J
 
 FIREWEED
 
 FIREWEED 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSLYN GRAY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 1920
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 Published, March, 1920
 
 TO MY MOST INDULGENT READERS 
 DOCTOR AND MRS. CHARLES ADAMS GRAY 
 
 2135957
 
 FIREWEED
 
 FIREWEED 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " HEAR ye ! Hear ye ! Hear ye ! Believe me, Libby 
 Lancaster, I shall hear ye to the last day of my life, the 
 very last. If I had had the slightest inkling if I had 
 dreamed what I should have to endure, what depths of 
 hell I should be dragged through, goodness only knows 
 whether I should have had the courage to start the bloom- 
 ing thing at all. But how could I know? How should 
 I guess ? Naturally, I looked for fair play, as how should 
 I not? Even though they were desperate, you would 
 hardly have expected Alex and John Blackwood to be 
 such fiends as to sic that shyster lawyer on me, now 
 would you ? " 
 
 Warmly as Erica Manners spoke, she did not, how- 
 ever, take the trouble to face the person to whom she 
 appealed. Indeed, she seemed rather to turn purposely, 
 if ever so slightly, away from her. The restless gaze of 
 her rather shallow brown eyes wandered from the trans- 
 parent tongues of amethyst and coral flame rising from 
 the hearth before her to the brilliant buckles of the gay 
 satin slippers into which her bare feet were thrust and 
 up to the slender fingers clasped about her knees whose 
 jewels refracted the firelight. At the same time, there 
 was something intimate and confidential in her petulant 
 voice, which, while not full nor rich, had an odd sort of 
 compelling charm about it. 
 
 Over her elaborate frilled and embroidered night-
 
 2 FIREWEED 
 
 gown, she wore an elegant mantle of corn-colored silk, 
 and on her head, a useless little cap of the same shade. 
 Beneath the lace border, her gleaming, silky hair, parted 
 and plaited in two tails, hung nearly to the floor, though 
 the low, hooded chair in which she sat made it appear 
 longer than it was. Huddled in its shelter, ungracious 
 as her manner was, she was the picture of grace; and 
 though the profile revealed by the soft light was thin to 
 sharpness and slightly aquiline into the bargain, it was 
 girlishly youthful, almost that of a child. 
 
 Miss Lancaster, who would have been gracious, as she 
 would have been humorous, could such qualities come 
 through volition or by imitation, who, though not half a 
 dozen years older than Mrs. Manners, might almost have 
 passed for her mother, agreed emphatically that Manners 
 and his solicitor were fiends indeed. She was, as she 
 would have expressed it, " simply perishing " for want of 
 sleep, longing to get back to her bed in the adjoining 
 chamber whence she had been summoned an hour after 
 midnight by her neurotic patient and patron who hadn't 
 been able to get away from the events of the day in the 
 court-room and hadn't closed her eyes. But being de- 
 voted to Mrs. Manners in the fullest sense of the word, 
 being used, moreover, to being haled from bed in the 
 small hours, Elizabeth Lancaster made a successful 
 struggle to keep awake, and was ready with the heavily 
 stressed negative or affirmative particles that were all 
 that was required or wanted from her. 
 
 Of course she knew that Caleb Cotton was not a shyster 
 lawyer. She was aware that he stood next to John 
 Black wood himself in the first legal firm in the city and 
 perhaps in the state. Furthermore, she understood Erica 
 Manners sufficiently well to doubt her frequent assertion 
 that she had dreaded the notoriety of the divorce court 
 and had only had recourse to it under compulsion; and
 
 FIREWEED 3 
 
 she couldn't have failed to realize that up to to-day, 
 now yesterday, when Cotton had begun his cross- 
 examination, Mrs. Manners had enjoyed the excitement 
 and her own dramatic position. Elizabeth Lancaster, a 
 mature woman who had earned her living as a trained 
 nurse for upwards of a dozen years, in frequent and 
 intimate contact with women of wealth and social stand- 
 ing, might, had she so chosen, have seen all these things 
 without prejudice. That she did not so choose was per- 
 haps her own affair: certainly she was not the less pros- 
 perous because of her failure so to do. 
 
 " I suppose you are aware that Cotton isn't nearly done 
 yet. I don't know that he has more than begun," Mrs. 
 Manners went on petulantly, unclasping her hands, lying 
 back in her chair, and crossing her legs so that her gaze 
 could rest comfortably on her right foot which she pointed 
 now this way, now that, without dropping the slipper 
 which hung only from the toe. " And yet, you would 
 certainly think he must have done his damnedest already, 
 wouldn't you? Is there any possible chance, Libby, of 
 his saying anything worse than he said to-day ? " 
 
 Miss Lancaster hated to be called Libby. But it was 
 preferable to Lanky, which was the alternative with Mrs. 
 Manners, so she submitted patiently. 
 
 " O no, Erica, dear," she assured her patron, as she 
 successfully stifled a yawn, " he couldn't possibly. He's 
 used up his ammunition." 
 
 Mrs. Manners shrugged her shoulders. " I confess, I 
 have my doubts as to that, Libby," she owned. " Any- 
 how, I rather dread to have him go on. I just dread the 
 sight of his ugly carcass, to tell the truth. Here it is 
 nearly three o'clock, and at ten it will all be beginning 
 again, with that stupid crowd sitting there with pop-eyes 
 and open mouths. The men aren't so bad, but, O those 
 women, those painfully ordinary women! Libby, don't
 
 4 FIREWEED 
 
 you think extraordinary ought to mean powerfully ordi- 
 nary ordinary to the limit ? " 
 
 Miss Lancaster laughed. 
 
 " Really, Erica, you must give your brain some rest 
 before to-morrow or you will go to pieces. Can't you 
 fix your mind resolutely on something soothing? " 
 
 " Soothing rot ! " retorted the other. " No, Libby, I 
 can't fix it on anything but Hear ye and Hear-me-Cotton. 
 Oh, I shall be cottoned all right. It was only the begin- 
 ning to-day yesterday no sense in shutting our eyes 
 to that fact. To-morrow, to-day, I should say, he'll 
 fall on me like listen, could you feel when he began 
 how everybody, all the strangers, too, were against him 
 and for me ? " 
 
 " Indeed I could. Honestly, Erica, if he should try 
 to go further, I believe those women would hiss him." 
 
 " Heaven foref end any such vulgarity. And saying 
 that, Libby, you remind me that that's what they are, a 
 mob, which means that they're this way to-day and that 
 to-morrow, hail one hour and damn the next. Did you 
 notice the other day when Alex came off the stand and 
 bowed his head on his hand how very quiet it was for a 
 few seconds ? Goldthwaite didn't leave him a leg to stand 
 on, and yet, bowing his head like that, you know, so 
 that the gray hair about his temples showed, well, some 
 of them pitied him, that was plain. I'm not sure that 
 I didn't have to remind myself who he was so that I 
 shouldn't spill any pity, myself." 
 
 " O Erica, I don't think any one was sorry for him" 
 Miss Lancaster declared with unusual promptness. 
 
 " Well, if they weren't then, he'll make 'em soon, old 
 Cotton will you just watch out, Libby." 
 
 Miss Lancaster, who sat bolt upright in her chair in 
 order to keep awake, stretched her head forward, craning 
 her long neck for relief, an unconscious and ugly habit
 
 FIREWEED 5 
 
 she had acquired. The light fell curiously upon her long, 
 thin nose, which made her chin look smaller and weaker 
 than it was, and deepened her resemblance to some great, 
 awkward bird, which her round, bright, though rather 
 pale-colored eyes intensified. There was something stri- 
 dent, too, in the falsetto voice in which she constantly 
 spoke. 
 
 " I cannot believe that, Erica," she asseverated sol- 
 emnly. " He might do some such thing in the West ; 
 but the man is too uncultivated to move people in this 
 part of the country, even those you call the mob. Out 
 West, however, I don't doubt that his crude methods took 
 the public by storm." 
 
 Mrs. Manners yawned. 
 
 " To my mind," Miss Lancaster added, " the fact that 
 Mr. Manners should choose him was the same as giving 
 over the case." 
 
 Mrs. Manners, who expected Miss Lancaster always to 
 agree with her, was impatient with all but the briefest 
 replies, and usually controverted any independent state- 
 ment she was bold enough to make. 
 
 " O Lanky, you're way off there. Not he ! Not 
 Alex ! " she retorted. " That's the worst of it. Cotton's 
 really a crackajack lawyer, though he hasn't any educa- 
 tion to speak of, except in the law, and he's had no social 
 advantages at all and is a boor. Phil Stokes, who is the 
 most fastidious person I know, is quite daffy over him, 
 and he says Blackwood thinks more of him than any man 
 (or woman, for that matter) in the world except Alex. 
 I dare say he hugged himself at getting him on from the 
 West in time to fight the case for Alex. Otherwise, I 
 don't know what would have become of him. For after 
 all, John Blackwood is a gentleman, and having been my 
 guest so often, he couldn't O, he couldn't have begun 
 to say as nasty things as Cotton said to-day, to say
 
 6 FIREWEED 
 
 nothing of what he may bring forth to-morrow. And 
 yet, I wonder whether it's the part of a gentleman to put 
 in the mouth of another what one wouldn't say oneself ? " 
 
 " No, Erica, it certainly is not," returned Miss Lancas- 
 ter as if she were an accredited arbiter in such matters. 
 " I am afraid Mr. Blackwood has lost his claim to the 
 name of gentleman for good." 
 
 " I'm not so sure, Libby," the other characteristically 
 demurred. " I suppose in a sense all's fair in well, 
 there's certainly no love in this case, even though Alex 
 insists that there is. You weren't present, were you, 
 when Goldthwaite asked him his reasons for opposing 
 the divorce, and Alex said there were no reasons, only a 
 reason that he loved me? It was not only absurd, you 
 know, it was sickening. A man of Alex's type doesn't 
 know the meaning of love. He's no more capable of 
 experiencing real, intellectual love than I am of the 
 other sort." 
 
 A pensive expression flitted over her face; for the 
 moment she was the romantic figure the newspapers had 
 portrayed her. As the clock chimed the three-quarters 
 she sighed. 
 
 " My dear, you won't get through the day unless you 
 get a little rest. Get into bed now, have a little massage, 
 and try to sleep," proposed Miss Lancaster in her pro- 
 fessional capacity. 
 
 Erica Manners rose and stretched herself, all grace 
 and languor. 
 
 " I may as well," she admitted. As she stood passive 
 while Miss Lancaster removed her mantle and cap, she 
 sighed again, less pensively, more ruefully. 
 
 " Honestly, Libby," she confessed as she got into bed, 
 " I'm scared blue of that man Cotton, no joking about 
 it. You don't know what to expect from a person who's 
 so utterly lacking in refinement. Don't ever tell if I
 
 FIREWEED ' 7 
 
 whisper to you what I'm most afraid of? I'm fright- 
 ened to pieces for fear he'll call me haggard! Anything 
 but that ! " 
 
 Miss Lancaster laughed, and her laughter was not 
 forced. She knew that Mrs. Manners was too well 
 groomed, to use her favorite phrase, for anything of that 
 sort. She was thin, delicate-looking, always, and at times 
 a bit worn-looking in a pensive, aristocratic way, but 
 haggard, never ! 
 
 Half an hour later, when Miss Lancaster turned to 
 go to her own rest, Mrs. Manners lay in her great, hand- 
 some bed, refreshed and relaxed and ready for sleep, a 
 picture of grace and luxury, and not without a certain 
 appeal in the delicacy of her features and the wistf ulness 
 of her expression. On a sudden she laughed out, a ring- 
 ing, mirthful sound that partook of the undeniable charm 
 that was her birthright and that had made her what she 
 was. 
 
 " Libby, just one moment more," she begged in a low 
 caressing voice that was almost lovely. " I want to ask 
 you if you ever in all your born days, saw such blue eyes 
 as that man has except in little kittens, little baby 
 Angora kittens ? " 
 
 " What man ? " asked Miss Lancaster wearily. 
 
 " What man ! Elizabeth Lancaster ! Do you mean to 
 tell me that you haven't noticed Caleb Cotton's eyes? 
 Well, I'll be damned!" 
 
 She stroked the silky plait of her soft brown hair with 
 a small thin hand that looked the smaller from its nest of 
 frills. 
 
 " He is such a rube in every way ! And suddenly to 
 see those china-blue eyes, with the whites so very white, 
 blue- white, next his tanned skin. And there's no doubt 
 about it, that line of white that shows below the iris makes 
 him look powerfully honest. And he certainly was rather
 
 8 FIREWEED 
 
 funny when he answered Goldy about the boys, you know. 
 Just for a tiny moment, I couldn't help feeling rather a 
 sneaking liking for the old blob. And I had hard work 
 not to laugh. If I had, like as not I should have lost 
 out. Goldy had better sit up and take notice." 
 
 " I guess I didn't hear that," murmured Miss Lancaster 
 sleepily. Mrs. Manners knew that she must be far gone 
 to revert to the " guess " of her youth, but she made her 
 hear the story nevertheless. 
 
 " Quite right, you didn't. You had gone to fetch the 
 salts, Libby. Alex was on the stand, and Cotton was 
 questioning him, O, so sweet and gentle and suave, 
 he certainly has a peach of a voice, truer in pitch and 
 quality than many a cultivated one, which his isn't. I 
 don't recollect just how it was, but Goldthwaite objected 
 to something, and there was a sort of squabble, and 
 somehow Goldthwaite brought it out in a perfectly nat- 
 ural manner that out in Indiana they used to call him 
 Cale Cottontail. Every one snickered, and the fellow 
 in brass buttons that sits next the door rapped and mut- 
 tered something or other. But Cotton, mind you, not 
 fazed in the least, turned and addressed the judge. 
 
 " ' May it please the court, although what my brother 
 alludes to does not bear directly upon the question of 
 the libel, I should like to explain that circumstance,' " 
 Mrs. Manners was a practised and capital mimic, but of 
 course she exaggerated Cotton's drawl. 
 
 " Well, the judge, who favors that side because, I sup- 
 pose, he means to give us the verdict, of course allowed 
 it, and he goes on : ' The court will have noted that my 
 brother goes far back in history. What he says was 
 true once, but it wasn't true long. Some of the boys did 
 get to calling me that behind my back. Then once 
 they did it to my face and that was once too many.' 
 
 " Then, Libby, he looks up to the judge with those blue
 
 FIREWEED 9 
 
 eyes solemn as a baby's, his face ever so sober, and says 
 in the drollest way : ' I was tall in those days (as if he 
 wasn't to-day!) and a mite bony, and I licked those boys 
 took off my .coat, shoved up my sleeves, and laid 'em 
 out, one after another, in a line. There was no Cale- 
 Cottontailing after that ! ' " 
 
 Erica Manners's memory was facile and quick, her 
 sense of humor keen, and she enjoyed relating the inci- 
 dent even while she knew that Miss Lancaster quite 
 wanted any subtle sense of the absurd. 
 
 " He's rather common, not to say vulgar," the latter 
 remarked with a forced smile. 
 
 " M m, well, yes, I suppose he is. And yet, I couldn't 
 help feeling as if that were rather dear. At the same time 
 I'm mighty thankful it's Goldthwaite that's defending 
 me." 
 
 Miss Lancaster made her escape, slipped out of her 
 bathrobe, which was a hand-me-down and too short, and 
 dropped into bed. And she wasted no time musing upon 
 the rather singular turn the monologue had taken at the 
 last. 
 
 Had Alexander Manners heard it, he would have pon- 
 dered deeply upon it ; but at the end he would have been 
 less wise than Miss Lancaster who had dismissed it so 
 readily. He would have seen in it nothing but Erica's 
 engaging, absurdly inconsequential, fatal charm. Had 
 he mused all day upon her words, he would never have 
 discovered therein what was nevertheless implicit the 
 secret of his own failure.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE Manners trial dragged on and on. Witness after 
 witness was sworn, examined, and cross-examined until 
 it seemed as if a bowing acquaintance with either party 
 connected with the case made one subject to such inqui- 
 sition. Much unsavory matter was exhumed from the 
 past. No one protested overmuch as to that ; but there 
 was considerable complaint because much that was merely 
 tedious and seemed to the uninitiated quite irrelevant was 
 threshed and rethreshed. Day after day, session after 
 session, the court-room was crowded to the limit of its 
 capacity, the throng coming early to struggle for seats 
 many women with a good sprinkling of men and re- 
 maining almost invariably until after adjournment, 
 thereby greatly disappointing the stragglers who watched 
 jealously and more and more hopelessly through the glass 
 oblongs of the swinging doors, for places on the benches 
 to be vacated. 
 
 The newspapers were given over largely to this one 
 subject. Allotting limited headlines and a portion of a 
 column on the first page to Mexican affairs, thence refer- 
 ring the reader to an inner page, they devoted the re- 
 mainder of the page and the paramount headlines to the 
 Manners divorce case. And while the different papers 
 vied with one another in the number, quality and clever- 
 ness of their pictures, sketches, and caricatures, they were 
 alike in presenting a resume of each day's proceedings, 
 followed by a verbatim report, question and answer,
 
 FIREWEED ii 
 
 which carried it over to succeeding pages. A few 
 mothers of school-girls wrote letters to the editors pro- 
 testing against the publicity ; but on the whole there was 
 little exception to such monopolization of space. For 
 the parties to the suit were persons of consequence, as 
 their fathers and grandfathers had been, and that back- 
 ground would have made a more ordinary case inter- 
 esting. 
 
 Finally, however, there was an end of it all. When 
 court adjourned early on the afternoon of Friday, the 
 thirteenth May, the evidence was all in. On Wednes- 
 day, the eighteenth, the arguments were to begin, and, in 
 all likelihood, to conclude, after which a speedy verdict 
 was expected. The public accepted the interruption per- 
 force but with clamorous impatience. Those concerned 
 welcomed the respite gratefully. 
 
 Among the latter was Philip Stokes, though neither side 
 had thought it worth while to summon him as a witness. 
 And it was not his position as junior member of the firm 
 which represented Alexander Manners in opposing the 
 divorce that made the proceedings of such moment to 
 him. His long-lived, hopeless passion for Erica Man- 
 ners, for years now a matter of common gossip through- 
 out the city, rendered him painfully sensitive to every turn 
 in the trial whose outcome would after all mean nothing 
 to him. 
 
 Immediately after adjournment, though with no ap- 
 pearance of haste Stokes was an elegant dawdler in 
 manner and by reputation the young man made his way 
 to the hotel where he had quarters, dropped his lawyer's 
 bag, picked up fresh chamois gloves and a more elegant 
 stick, and set forth leisurely again into the street. The 
 case being closed, he felt at liberty to resume a habitude 
 discontinued during the long course of the trial, of going 
 daily to drink a cup of tea with his sister, Delia Hoi-
 
 12 FIREWEED 
 
 brook, who was Erica Manners's intimate and only woman 
 friend, though Miss Lancaster was her companion and 
 confidante. 
 
 Philip Stokes was a singularly fastidious fellow, with 
 old-fashioned ideas that were rather absurdly incongru- 
 ous with the manner of life of the " fast " set he asso- 
 ciated with. He did not admire his sister; he was quite 
 frank in expressing his regret at their relationship. Nev- 
 ertheless, he liked Delia Holbrook amazingly. He hated 
 women to know anything about politics; yet he thought 
 as highly of her opinion in regard to politics as in regard 
 to letters and other impersonal matters. And he had 
 missed her keenly, during these past weeks, his loyalty 
 to the firm as well as his natural sense of fitness having 
 kept him away from the Holb^ook mansion while the 
 trial was pending, there being always a chance of his 
 encountering Erica Manners there. 
 
 He found Delia in, but exceedingly cool. As always, 
 she was first for Erica, and then, a long way after, for 
 her brother. She resented his long absence and took no 
 trouble to hide the fact. 
 
 " I suppose, Del, you think it was easy for me to stay 
 away ? " he asked more warmly than it was his wont to 
 speak, and in rather boyish manner, though he seldom 
 appeared to be less than his full age, which was one and 
 thirty. 
 
 " I know jolly well you wouldn't have done it unless 
 it was easier than it would have been to show people 
 particularly Erica that you were loyal," she retorted. 
 And she shrugged her shoulders indifferently when she 
 saw his face go suddenly white and not only lost its mo- 
 mentary boyish look but appear years older. 
 
 As a matter of fact, it had been torture keeping 
 away from Erica constant agony. Stokes hadn't 
 known happiness, it is true, since he had learned of
 
 FIREWEED 13 
 
 Erica's betrothal upwards of seven years ago; but he 
 had learned to distinguish shades of unhappiness, and 
 his recent exile, voluntary only in a certain sense, had 
 been one of the most wretched periods of his recent life. 
 
 He had known Erica as a child, had admired her ever 
 since he had danced with her at a children's party before 
 he went away to school. He had fallen in love with her 
 when she had returned at sixteen, in long skirts with 
 her hair put up, after three years in Europe with her 
 aunt. Even at that time, even at sixteen, Erica Ericson 
 hadn't accorded at all with his singular ideals. Never- 
 theless she had bewitched him with the charm that still 
 endured. He had striven with might and main to win 
 her love ; but he had failed to win that or her hand. He 
 had a small income and was heir to his uncle's place in 
 the Blackwood firm with a good salary from the begin- 
 ning, but he was not rich ; and Miss Ericson, who was 
 poor and ambitious, had preferred Alexander Manners, 
 an agreeable, but in no sense magnetic or popular mil- 
 lionaire, who was twenty years her senior. 
 
 Whereupon, Philip Stokes, in the strength of his youth 
 and the pride of his four-and-twenty years, had deter- 
 mined to break with her utterly and irrevocably. But he 
 had not broken with her even temporarily. The years 
 had gone by seven of them and there had been no 
 change in the situation except that his passion had in- 
 creased, albeit with nothing to feed upon. For Erica's 
 attitude remained the same, easy, tolerant, humorously 
 friendly, but never intimate. She wasn't squeamish : she 
 had had numerous and almost continuous " affairs " with 
 other men since her marriage ; but she had given Philip 
 Stokes no more though no less than the limited en- 
 couragement she had always yielded him simply enough 
 to hold him. And he had never once stretched taut the 
 tenuous thread of that bond.
 
 i 4 FIREWEED 
 
 He had looked forward feverishly to this minute 
 this minute when she wasn't at Delia's but might be on 
 her way. Though he never saw her without pain, he was 
 hungry, famished for the sight of her, famished even 
 for that particular sort of pain which he suffered in her 
 presence. And he recovered from the thrust of his sis- 
 ter's stab by reminding himself that he wasn't to see 
 Erica only to-day. He was about to resume his habit of 
 seeing her daily, either here or wherever her home might 
 be. He was practically certain that the verdict would 
 be against her; but even if he had expected her to win, 
 he would have had no illusions as to himself. All he 
 had to hope for was the return to the status quo. 
 
 The blinds were drawn, the candles lighted, and a fire 
 burned on the hearth. The young man gazed in silence 
 at the flames he had absently poked into existence. 
 Then, just as he started, in his slow proud way, to explain, 
 to endeavor to justify himself, Erica Manners walked 
 in unannounced, and the atmosphere cleared instan- 
 taneously and as if by magic. This was a common hap- 
 pening. Whatever might be the case when any two of 
 the three were together, as an unit of three, intercourse 
 between them was all that any of them could desire. It 
 was not a subject that was acknowledged or ever alluded 
 to, but while it lasted, none of the three asked for any- 
 thing other or better. 
 
 There was something radiant about the newcomer, 
 which might have had to do with her new spring finery. 
 Mrs. Manners had donned for the first time that after- 
 noon, perhaps as an expression of her relief at the re- 
 prieve, a costume that Delia (whose taste, where she was 
 not herself concerned, was excellent) declared the finest 
 and most becoming she had ever worn. The long, loose 
 coat, with graceful flowing lines, the tunic, and the skirt, 
 which somehow followed an ugly fashion without being
 
 FIREWEED 15 
 
 ugly, were of soft, rich stuff and of a wonderful shade, 
 
 a fawn color which so exactly matched her soft hair 
 that one would have expected to find the latter dappled 
 when she removed the drooping hat which gave her 
 sharp little face a charm it had, perhaps, little title to. 
 
 Dragging herself rather comically across the floor, she 
 flung herself into a great leather covered chair. Stokes's 
 disappointment that she hadn't noticed his outstretched 
 hand was swallowed up in the pleasure of feasting his 
 eyes upon her from his position on the hearth rug. 
 
 " I suppose you know why I limp, Phil ? " she asked 
 dryly, looking up frankly. " It's because that man Cotton 
 of yours didn't leave me a leg to stand on only stumps 
 
 hardly enough, indeed, to hobble on from the car in 
 here." 
 
 Stokes smiled faintly but less cynically than was his 
 wont. Physically, Erica Manners resembled the ideal 
 lady of his heart as little as morally ; but only the extraor- 
 dinary length of his lashes decently veiled the famished 
 staring of his habitually bored, weary, and rather melan- 
 choly eyes. 
 
 " And yet, you know, old man, if I should lose, it 
 wouldn't be because he's a clever lawyer, but " 
 
 Suddenly she sat erect. Her rather pale brown eyes 
 grew hard, where darker ones would have flashed. 
 
 " What the devil is Blackwood thinking of, anyhow? " 
 she demanded, exulting secretly in the possibility of hurt- 
 ing some one of retaliation by proxy. " You know, 
 Phil, when all is said, a court of law isn't a Sunday 
 School. That boob simply moralised all over me. He 
 didn't keep to the law at all, in fact, he kept strictly 
 away from it." 
 
 " Mr. Cotton has the law by heart, Erica, knows it for- 
 ward and backward," returned Stokes quietly. He sel- 
 dom raised his lids fully, and his glance, when it didn't
 
 16 FIREWEED 
 
 seem sleepy, was insolent of appearance. But Erica was 
 used to it. 
 
 " I wish you'd sit down, Phil," she said petulantly. 
 " I'm dead sick of focusing my eyes upon a standing 
 figure." 
 
 He dropped into a chair, but rose at once as his sister 
 handed him a cup of tea for Erica. 
 
 " Do you know," remarked Delia suavely the moment 
 the cup was out of her hand, " I had a foolish notion in 
 my head all the time that there was some connection 
 between morals and the law. Funny, wasn't it ? " 
 
 Mrs. Holbrook was an ugly woman, older than either 
 of the other two, with large features, prominent bones, 
 and a too-prominent forehead. Her skin was thick and 
 swarthy, her mouth very large with the upper lip un- 
 usually long, but her eyes were not bad, and her won- 
 derful, but exceedingly rare smile was said to transform 
 her face into something as compelling as beauty. 
 
 " Now, Del, don't, I entreat you, be grim," Erica 
 pleaded, refusing tea with a petulant gesture as she pulled 
 off her hat and rested her graceful head against the 
 leather cushion wearily. " Honestly, I've been squeezed 
 between the upper and the nether millstone, and squeezed 
 and squeezed again until I feel as flat as a paper doll. For 
 days Good Lord, for ages and aeons it's been like 
 this: all day in court with Cotton turning me inside out 
 and cordially inviting the daws to peck at my vitals; all 
 night in the sole company of Libby Lancaster who has 
 no sense of humor but says the same thing over and over 
 and stretches her neck at me until I want to shy bricks 
 at her. I naturally expected to find solace here, but, O, 
 no ! You've got too much humor, Del, and no bowels of 
 compassion. Well, Ish ga bibble." 
 
 Mrs. Holbrook grinned. 
 
 " By the by, Erica, that was an amusing picture of you
 
 FIREWEED 17 
 
 in the Gazette the other day, with Lancaster and the 
 smelling bottle," she remarked. " Did you happen to see 
 it?" 
 
 Stokes winced secretly. Mrs. Manners again sat erect. 
 
 " No, and I don't want to, and if you've kept it, don't 
 for heaven's sake, haul it out now. The Gazette had 
 one picture of me that looked at least forty with a reg- 
 ular witch's chin. Really, it was scandalous. I'd just 
 like " 
 
 Shrugging her shoulders impatiently, she flung back 
 against the cushion. 
 
 " Hatch certainly has a clever touch," Mrs. Holbrook 
 observed, referring to the newspaper artist. 
 
 Stokes, exceedingly ill at ease, endeavored to change 
 the subject. But he discovered that Erica herself 
 wouldn't and couldn't leave the trial. She could think 
 or speak of naught beside. Replying absently and briefly 
 to his queries as to indifferent matters, she resumed her 
 own train of mind with a curious zest which it was plain 
 to see was not without an element of pain. In an high 
 state of excitement, she was, it hurt Stokes to feel, con- 
 fident of success; it was the rankling of sundry recol- 
 lections that caused her spirits to fluctuate. 
 
 " I could have howled at the way Cotton handled 
 Alex," she declared, taking the lead again. " Possibly 
 you noticed, Phil, that he treated Alex like a perfect 
 lady and me like a well, cow-puncher? But let us be 
 charitable : I dare say that in the West the poor old galoot 
 had to do mostly with toughs and cattle thieves." 
 
 " Good Lord, Erica, Mr. Cotton comes from Indiana ! 
 That's not West. Where's your geography, anyhow ? " 
 demanded Stokes. 
 
 " My geography is where yours obviously is not, in a 
 reasoning intellect," she retorted. " Indiana was West 
 when your Uncle Caleb grew up in the formative days
 
 i8 FIREWEED 
 
 of his tender youth. And surely Goldthwaite established 
 the fact clearly that he has had no experience in dealing 
 with ladies." 
 
 " Rot ! You ought to know, Erica, clever as you are, 
 that all that's merely part of Goldthwaite's job, a trick 
 of the trade," rejoined Stokes with unusual heat. " You 
 may say all you like, but Mr. Cotton's a gentleman if 
 there's one in the city. He worships the memory of his 
 wife, and if you could see him with his daughter ! " 
 
 " Ah ! Nancy f " inquired Delia with peculiar inflec- 
 tion, rolling the word on her tongue. 
 
 " Yes, Delia, Nancy," her brother declared severely. 
 
 Erica glanced at him rather sharply. " Is she another 
 gawk ? " she inquired sweetly. 
 
 " Nancy Cotton is without exception and in every way 
 the loveliest young girl I ever laid eyes on ! " he declared 
 with a dramatic sort of finality. And he sighed within 
 him. 
 
 Delia Holbrook was aware of that stifled sigh. She 
 understood what her brother believed to be hermetically 
 hidden in the depths of his heart. She was aware, in- 
 deed, she knew it better than he himself understood it 
 that for six months he had been striving to drive Erica 
 from her place in his heart by association with the Cotton 
 girl, who represented almost ideally his obsolete ideals. 
 And she knew that his failure was implicit in that sigh. 
 
 Erica frowned at Stokes's uncalled for declaration, if 
 not of independence, of independent taste. She had 
 never happened to see Cotton's daughter ; but she did not 
 care to have Stokes, at the moment of her suspense and 
 uneasiness, prating thus of a bread-and-butter miss whose 
 father had hounded her to the verge of distraction. She 
 drew on her gloves, uttered a few spiteful phrases against 
 the Blackwood firm, designed to hurt Stokes and success- 
 ful, and made an abrupt departure.
 
 FIREWEED 19 
 
 After handing her to her car, Stokes returned to his 
 sister. 
 
 " That's the female of it," he growled, frowning down 
 upon Delia from his position on the hearth rug with his 
 back to the fire. But he wasn't, as she thought, refer- 
 ring to Erica's pique at the mention of Nancy. " Of 
 course you must have noticed, Del, that Erica couldn't 
 get away from Mr. Cotton? If she had to dwell ad 
 nauseam on the trial, why in heaven's name didn't she 
 confine herself to Goldthwaite? Why? Simply because 
 it's the woman, the dog, and the walnut tree ! " 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense, Phil, it's nothing of the sort," 
 Delia retorted stanchly. " You don't understand 
 you're prejudiced. Poor Erica's really terribly cut up 
 over it all. She's hungry she's just starving for sym- 
 pathy, though naturally of a different sort from the crass 
 mess she gets from Lancaster. After having all those 
 nasty things dinned into her ears day after day, what she 
 really yearns for is to be reassured by some one who 
 counts. And that could be only you or me I ought to 
 have said me or you." 
 
 " Right-O," he said grimly. As he looked at her from 
 beneath lowered lashes, his sister felt that his eyes were 
 full of pain. 
 
 " She certainly got as much sympathy from me as 
 from you, so far as that goes," he said. 
 
 " There are different ways of withholding sympathy," 
 she remarked as she lighted a cigarette. There was no 
 use in passing the case to her brother for he invariably 
 refused to smoke with her. 
 
 " I'm not one of the cuddling kind as you know, Phil," 
 she remarked after a pause, gazing meditatively at the 
 cigarette between her fingers. " And yet, do you know, 
 I would have held her hand to-day and hugged her, and 
 praised her sore little heart and indulged in no end of
 
 2 o FIREWEED 
 
 Tommy-rot if I had dared. But I knew it wasn't safe. 
 Erica must not break down. She's on the very edge of 
 doing so, now. I'm going on to Atlantic City to stay 
 until Tuesday night just so that she won't have a chance 
 to see me again. And Phil, don't you see her." 
 
 " I don't want to," he returned coolly, though he was 
 secretly moved. " And of course I wouldn't think of 
 such a thing with you away. And anyhow I'll risk 
 her breaking down. Good heavens, Delia, Erica likes it, 
 she quite gloats over it, barring a few things that strike 
 home. You know, if I were going to worry about any one, 
 it would be for Manners. He looks ten years older than 
 he did before this came on, and for the last few days he 
 has looked livid, alarmingly so, when you consider that 
 his grandfather died of heart disease." 
 
 " Yes, Phil, but practically all of us have weak hearts 
 if we knew it, and all our grandfathers might have died 
 of heart disease if something else hadn't come along and 
 taken them off prematurely. As for Alex, I'm sorry for 
 him, of course. It's certainly hard lines for him. But 
 I can't at this moment consider any one but Erica. Do 
 you think she's likely to win, Phil ? " 
 
 " I am not willing to discuss the case at all, Delia. I'm 
 right sorry I came here to-day at all," her brother returned 
 sulkily. 
 
 " You certainly haven't wasted much time here for the 
 last month," she declared. " Where have you been, at 
 the Cottons'?" 
 
 He kicked the log with his foot to start a blaze. 
 
 " I haven't been there since the case was called," he 
 said stiffly. 
 
 "Rather circumscribed, eh?" Delia grinned, and her 
 grin was quite another thing than her smile, which, how- 
 ever, never favored her brother. 
 
 She threw the stub of her cigarette with skilful aim
 
 FIREWEED 21 
 
 straight into the fire. Looking up with bent brows, she 
 asked suddenly, again with that peculiar inflection: 
 " Phil, if you think so highly of the Cotton girl, why don't 
 you marry her ? " 
 
 He stared at her with haughty amazement. 
 
 " For one thing, she's too young : she isn't out of 
 school," he returned. " For another," he added, " I'm 
 too old: I'm twice her age." 
 
 " Rot ! That wouldn't count if you really wanted her." 
 
 " I do," he said moodily, and to her rather surprisingly. 
 
 "You doubt being acceptable to pappy f " she asked, 
 ironically. How did Delia come to know that Nancy Cot- 
 ton addressed her father thus? 
 
 Stokes not seeing fit to reply to the rhetorical question, 
 his sister demanded: 
 
 "Well, what is it then?" 
 
 Stokes flushed slightly a rare occurrence with him. 
 He started to speak but checked himself and remained 
 staring at his sister's plain face with its prominent cheek 
 bones and its rather oriental breadth and flatness below. 
 He wondered now, as frequently before, why Delia tacitly 
 encouraged his clinging to Erica. Sometimes he believed 
 it was because she was quite as infatuated with Erica as 
 he was, and was quite ready to sacrifice his life to her 
 caprice. But the subject was never mentioned between 
 them. Again, he paused at the very brink of such dis- 
 cussion and turned abruptly away. Something always 
 seemed to warn him of flood gates and boiling rapids. 
 
 Leaving her moodily, as he went down the walk, Stokes 
 caught a glimpse of Nancy Cotton, music roll in hand, 
 crossing the common in the direction towards her father's 
 house. Coming out of the dimly lighted drawing-room 
 heavy with the fumes of tobacco, into the bright spring 
 twilight, from the presence of Delia and her friend and 
 the atmosphere of the divorce court to the sight of the
 
 22 FIREWEED 
 
 fair young girl going her simple way about her lessons, 
 was to the young man like sweet, pure air upon a fevered 
 brow, like spring water to a parched throat. All sorts 
 of images came crowding to his mind, images out of his 
 boyhood and early youth, before romance and poetry had 
 come to seem dead letters to him. 
 
 But the vision which lingered was that which the music 
 roll must have brought before him, a picture which, 
 originating probably in the Lays of Ancient Rome, had 
 haunted his school-boy imagination and must have lin- 
 gered amidst its later cynicism the vision of the school- 
 girl Virginia crossing the Forum with her books. And 
 Philip Stokes sighed deeply and without restraint as he 
 turned sharply in the opposite direction. 
 
 No one knows how it was with that sweet daughter 
 of Virginius. One hopes that her heart was indeed free 
 from care as she tripped across the Forum on her way 
 to school. But after all, youth does not always imply 
 light-heartedness, and many another young girl has borne 
 heavy secret sorrow at like years. Even sixteen-year-old 
 Evelyn Hope might have been happier as she lay with the 
 geranium flower in her cold hand than on the day she 
 plucked it. In any event, it was probable that few mature 
 women in all the city were more unhappy than Nancy 
 Cotton at that very moment when she awaked idyllic 
 images in the mind of Philip Stokes. As she went back 
 and forth through the quieter streets of the pleasant old 
 place, the girl's heart was like a stone, cold and heavy, its 
 dead weight dragging her down. And there was seldom 
 a night that she did not cry herself to sleep.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AFTER an interruption concerning a technicality, Caleb 
 Cotton, counsel for Alexander Manners, resumed his 
 argument. 
 
 " The court will have noted further that my brother 
 has indicated that I am the wrong sort of timber to prop 
 up this particular kind of case: that I am not so con- 
 stituted as to be capable of understanding so complex and 
 delicate a personality as that of his client : that the rough 
 school where I got my learning didn't fit me to apprehend 
 the culture that is the slow growth of generations." 
 
 There was something almost as surprising in Cotton's 
 voice as in the curiously blue eyes under his rugged brows. 
 Even on this last day of the trial, people marveled at it. 
 Clear and carrying easily, though he never raised it, it 
 seemed unusually, almost impossibly low, being at the 
 same time rich and warm and singularly mellow. Quite 
 unlike the monotonously correct voice of the counsel for 
 the libellant, it was a gift of nature, modulated according 
 to the speech of the folk among whom his early youth 
 had been spent (their speech having been influenced by 
 the negroes) and 'deepened and enriched by years of 
 earnest and thoughtful living. 
 
 Lean, lank, bony, awkward with the awkwardness of 
 the strength that is called wiry, ugly, and, despite his 
 stooping, inordinately tall he stood six feet three in 
 his stockings Caleb Cotton faced the court, one hand 
 in his pocket, confronting an hostile atmosphere with a 
 
 23
 
 24 FIREWEED 
 
 rugged kindness of expression upon his plain worn face 
 that had something large and even patriarchal about it, 
 though he was still a young man well under fifty. The 
 opposition, supported by the sentiment of the court-room 
 and, indeed, of the city itself, had gone to the limit of 
 personalities ; but the lawyer from the West had borne 
 it all calmly and rather humorously. He had not once 
 lost his temper nor even his patience, a sort of large 
 patience that seemed to associate itself with the monu- 
 mental things of nature. No trace of irritation nor of 
 annoyance had been apparent in his voice or manner 
 since the opening of the case. And now he met the hos- 
 tile and scornful regard with a friendliness quite free 
 from self-consciousness and yet not impersonal. 
 
 " That is of course a large question," he went on, tak- 
 ing his hand from his pocket to lay it in the palm of the 
 other, " but if the court will pardon me, I will go into it 
 briefly. I own that I'm not an educated man as the 
 term is used in the East. I have studied the classics, and 
 I claim to have read the law. I have pored over that 
 days and nights together. I was admitted to the bar 
 twenty-three years come Michaelmas, and there's never 
 a day passed since then, except Sundays and the week 
 when death visited my household, that I haven't read it 
 for at least two hours. And human nature, I have stud- 
 ied more than that, and I have seen and known many 
 varieties. When I was fourteen, my father gave me my 
 freedom and the sum of twenty dollars, and I kissed my 
 mother and set out to shift for myself. Since then I 
 have made my way. I worked at lumbering and smith- 
 ing. I taught day school in the farther West and night 
 school in the nearer, studying at the law along with both, 
 and always mingling with my fellow men and women and 
 endeavoring to understand them I didn't have to en- 
 deavor to like them. Most of them were, I grant you,
 
 FIREWEED 25 
 
 plain people, who dealt first hand, instead of through 
 books or art, with the things that are the common heritage 
 of us all, such as life, death, birth, marriage, and our 
 human relationships, one to another. At the same time, 
 I have seen, in my day, a few of the other sort too, the 
 more sophisticated and those of the finer manners. And 
 I cannot help feeling that they are all made pretty much 
 alike as to the essential things, so that experience with 
 the one sort helps you with the others. They all have to 
 bow alike to the natural law of the universe." 
 
 Pausing, as his hand mechanically sought his pocket, 
 Caleb Cotton called back the faraway gaze of his blue 
 eyes the adventurous dark blue eyes of the sailor, the 
 explorer, the discoverer. And on a sudden, feeling, 
 which had been eager and alert, became curiously tense, 
 as if a cord had been drawn taut. Even the artists whose 
 pencils had been busy with the last caricatures of a figure 
 that might have been in any circumstances an invitation 
 to travesty, forebore their task and sat as spell-bound. 
 
 Erica Manners felt the thrill and paled beneath her 
 lace veil. But she held her pretty head proudly erect, 
 and her rather plaintive-looking, shallow brown eyes 
 stared straight before her. She was hardly pretty, 
 though she was commonly called so, only exquisitely re- 
 fined in appearance, as if she had been cared for all her 
 life like the typical princess of the fairy tale, as, indeed, 
 she had. Her small head was proudly set ; her small face 
 had delicate features with a really beautiful though 
 haughty mouth, her white skin was smooth and clear; 
 her soft hair that would have been " sandy " without much 
 burnishing, had acquired thereby a reddish-golden tone. 
 Her simple, elegant costume, perfect in every detail, gave 
 distinction to a slender, girlish figure. Plainly, she was 
 one who had lived all her life in luxury and ease, one 
 who had ever had her will, a will that by nature and
 
 26 FIREWEED 
 
 training had chosen the most exquisite things that money 
 can buy or taste or social position secure. A certain 
 wistfulness of expression that characterized her face in 
 repose did not so much suggest anything fine or noble 
 as it registered a sort of weariness, of satiety, a refined 
 selfishness that craves better bread than wheaten even 
 while others hunger for black crusts. 
 
 Philip Stokes, who had likewise felt the thrill pass 
 through the court-room, felt it the more sensitively 
 through Erica. He knew without looking that she had 
 paled because of it. He had known from the beginning 
 that though sentiment was with her, the law was against 
 her, and she would lose; yet this moment when he be- 
 lieved that she understood or feared that the game was 
 against her, was like a stab at his heart. Still the habit- 
 ually bored expression of his handsome face did not alter, 
 though the look he cast upon Manners from underneath 
 his long, sleepy lashes was keen and alert. 
 
 Alone among them all, however, Alexander Manners 
 appeared unmoved. He sat as he had done through- 
 out the proceedings except when in the witness stand, 
 his head in his hand, his face partly shaded. It had been 
 a pleasant, rather genial face, with a kind mouth and 
 traces of breeding; but during these searching weeks, it 
 had changed almost startlingly. It not only looked older, 
 years older but it was marked by an expression of 
 pain that just stopped short of horror, as if the shock 
 with which he had first heard the ill news had been 
 stamped indelibly across brow and temples. Perhaps his 
 comparative impassivity now was due to the fact that he 
 had been so constantly and so tragically moved through- 
 out that he could suffer nothing more. 
 
 The pause only seemed long. Again Cotton withdrew 
 his hand from his pocket and began to enumerate his 
 points upon it with the long index finger of the other.
 
 FIREWEED 27 
 
 " The charges against my client which Mr. Goldthwaite 
 considers sufficient to warrant the demand that the court 
 grant a decree of absolute divorce to the libellant are 
 these," he went on, his voice reaching every corner of the 
 room without effort on his part, while he seemed merely 
 to be speaking confidentially to the judge. " In the first 
 place, Mr. Manners is charged with total lack of sym- 
 pathy with his wife's devotion to poetry and music. Sec- 
 ondly, it is claimed that he was jealous, and, probably as 
 a consequence, irritable. He objected to Mrs. Manners's 
 receiving calls from other men in his absence, even 
 though they were old friends, and likewise to her driving 
 alone with them. He made what was referred to as a ' big 
 row ' because she wished to go on yachting trips with par- 
 ties consisting of an equal number of men and women, 
 when he could not accompany her. He didn't even ap- 
 prove of her women friends and said harsh things about 
 them: he objected to her keeping a nurse she had em- 
 ployed during illness as a companion afterwards. Finally, 
 he took the death of their only child too much to heart. 
 He seemed to blame her because it died, and was always 
 saying or intimating that a home is not a home without 
 children." 
 
 Again his hand sought the shelter of his pocket, and 
 his right hip and shoulder slouched. 
 
 " These are the only arguments, the court will have 
 noted, that can be deduced from the mass of testimony 
 that has been given. The court is asked to affirm that 
 these constitute cruel and abusive treatment; and yet, I 
 confess I cannot persuade myself that bearing only such 
 indignities, the libellant can be termed an ill-used wife. 
 And what shall we say of the reckoning on the other 
 side? This woman married Mr. Manners because of 
 his wealth no one has ventured to dispute that fact. 
 Well, she has had it. All the money she has ever asked
 
 28 FIREWEED 
 
 for, she owns that she has had. She spent it lavishly 
 perhaps extravagantly. Furthermore, she desires and 
 expects to go on doing so. In other words, she wishes 
 to repudiate utterly the contract to which she was a 
 party, and yet to continue to receive the financial benefit 
 that accrued therefrom. She asks that the court free 
 her from any obligation to her husband, at the same time 
 compelling him to support her in luxury. And what of 
 the weight of arguments to support this claim ? " 
 
 Alexander Manners suddenly raised his head. His 
 friends feared he was about to cry out in protest. But 
 he dropped it into his hand again as Cotton went on. 
 
 "As to art and poetry," he said slowly, "as to Shake- 
 speare and the musical glasses, Mr. Manners possessed 
 at the time she married him the same amount little or 
 great of appreciation for such things, as he did when 
 this woman decided that was a prime reason for refusing 
 longer to share the home he had given her. As to whether 
 she might have been able, meantime, to have increased 
 his enjoyment of art and music, we cannot say; for she 
 confesses that she made no effort whatever in such direc- 
 tion. Leaving him to himself evenings and Sundays 
 the only leisure he had during the greater part of the 
 year, she flitted about from one place to another where 
 these higher intellectual topics were bandied and dis- 
 cussed. He made no objection ; and therefore I contend 
 that this woman did not suffer unduly from his want of 
 sympathy in that regard. 
 
 " As to his jealousy, my client had a right to consider 
 his own honor. In becoming a wife, a woman is under- 
 stood to renounce certain rights and privileges she may 
 enjoy as a single woman. Mrs. Manners has acknowl- 
 edged that the callers to whom her husband took excep- 
 tion were actually visitors, spending long afternoons with 
 her alone in a small parlor; also, that more than once
 
 FIREWEED 29 
 
 when Mr. Manners returned home unexpectedly, she let 
 them out by a side door; also, that when she drove 
 with one or another, she met him on the street corner 
 and was dropped there on her return. Now I reckon 
 that by many persons, such conduct would be allowed to 
 be cause for at least displeasure; and should an husband 
 show signs of jealousy in such circumstances, who could 
 consider such natural feeling could warrant his wife in 
 expecting to divorce him? 
 
 " Again, that he should have objected to her women 
 friends is undoubtedly to be deprecated, and yet rather 
 to have been expected. Mrs. Manners has admitted that 
 they not only encouraged her in going counter to my 
 client's wishes, but that they joined her in ridiculing him. 
 Wherefore, that he should have said uncomplimentary 
 things about them was natural and human, and hardly to 
 be pronounced cruel and abusive treatment of her. The 
 case of the nurse who became her companion belongs in 
 the same category : if she sustained his wife in her oppo- 
 sition to him, Mr. Manners had a right to object to her 
 alien presence in his house." 
 
 Cotton paused and glanced gravely about him. With 
 that long forefinger which might have been the index of 
 a painted sign-board, he touched the fourth finger of his 
 left hand, upon which a ring with a large dark seal 
 dangled loosely, held in place only by the knuckle. The 
 gesture was not lost upon Erica Manners. She had had 
 a certain amount of amusement out of that ring, weaving 
 absurd legends wherein it had been presented to Caleb 
 Cotton with grotesque ceremony as a parting memento 
 when he left the West. 
 
 " The question of the child remains," he said quietly 
 and very impressively. " This woman, blaming her hus- 
 band for caring too much for the little one, endeavors, 
 through her explanation why she did not care for her
 
 30 FIREWEED 
 
 baby at all, not only to prove herself blameless but even 
 praiseworthy, or at least an object of tender pity. Mrs. 
 Manners claims that she was too young to be a mother ; 
 that, in giving birth to the child, she nearly lost her life ; 
 and finally, that, knowing it to be a sickly infant that the 
 physician believed could not survive, she did not allow 
 herself to become attached to it." 
 
 At a moment when it might have been expected that 
 one would look into another's eyes, everyone in that court- 
 room looked straight ahead. Only Philip Stokes, under 
 the heavy screen of his lashes, glanced towards Alexander 
 Manners and saw how ghastly white he was. 
 
 " Of course," Cotton was saying slowly, " there are 
 instances of mother-love triumphing and snatching weakly 
 infants from the very jaws of death, even girl-mothers, 
 years younger than this woman, who was one-and-twenty 
 when her child was born. I doubt not that some of the 
 world's heroes would never have survived to benefit 
 humanity by their mighty achievements had it not been 
 for some self -devoted young mother giving her days and 
 nights, her strength and courage, to their rearing. And 
 setting aside the heroes, I suppose that since the very 
 beginning of family life there has been a deal of love 
 poured out, thrown away, if you will, on sickly 
 babes that didn't live to comfort their parents or to prove 
 a blessing to mankind. All down the ages, Rachels have 
 been mourning their lost little ones; and yet, even so, 
 few of them would have missed the chance to have so 
 loved. Perhaps they would not put it into words, but 
 they would have dimly felt that the experience of mother- 
 hood is a rich experience : that to have lived deeply is to 
 have known sorrow as well as joy. 
 
 " Whether this woman has lived thus richly, it con- 
 cerns not me. My concern is to show why she should 
 not be granted a decree of divorce from my client. I
 
 FIREWEED 31 
 
 have endeavored to present and to meet the charges 
 brought against him. It remains only to summarize them 
 in a few sentences. 
 
 " I submit, then, that this woman, who has never in the 
 whole course of her life known what it means to want 
 anything, entered into a contract with this man with the 
 single view of getting control of such part of his wealth 
 as she might desire. She received from him not only 
 that money, poured out abundantly, but other things 
 stipulated in the contract, love, honor, and the will to 
 cherish her until such time as death should separate the 
 one from the other. On her part, she repudiated all the 
 terms of the agreement. She disdained to love her hus- 
 band, was careless of his honor, and having derived the 
 gain she wished from the association, chooses to have the 
 partnership dissolved, the contract annulled, only still 
 retaining her financial advantage after the dissolution. 
 It is enough to say that such things cannot be. I cannot 
 believe that this court or any court of justice in these 
 United States will find grounds or any single ground for 
 granting such decree." 
 
 As Caleb Cotton ceased, the silence in the court-room 
 was so intense as to be almost appalling. Even those who 
 were merely spectators felt their hearts beating wildly 
 within their bosoms and almost feared they were thereby 
 disturbing that awful stillness. Striking personality as 
 the speaker was, he had suddenly and mysteriously seemed 
 transformed into an abstract voice, like the voice of Jus- 
 tice, or it was as if the moral law had proclaimed itself. 
 And to one or two, indeed, it was almost as if there had 
 been no voice, no sound, but that in the midst of the 
 solemnity of utter silence, a hand had written on the wall. 
 
 It was like a blow to Erica Manners ; she heard nothing 
 more, and scarcely spoke all the rest of that day. It was
 
 32 FIREWEED 
 
 not until evening that she recovered her poise sufficiently 
 to take account of herself. Confident to the very end, 
 she knew now that she had lost. But she set her teeth 
 and forced herself to be cool until she should learn from 
 her lawyer whether there was a chance of appealing to 
 a higher court. Only she would wait for the verdict 
 before doing that; she wouldn't admit until she had to 
 the possibility of the inevitable. 
 
 She would not speak to Miss Lancaster lest she some- 
 how give her an intimation of her discouragement, and 
 when Miss Lancaster ventured an unsolicited remark, 
 she snubbed her rudely. 
 
 But she couldn't keep up the pretense. When, shortly 
 after midnight, Miss Lancaster turned to leave her after 
 the customary massage, Erica Manners broke from her 
 self-imposed bonds. 
 
 " I will never live with that man again, and they cannot 
 force me to ! " she declared in low, fierce accents. 
 
 Elizabeth Lancaster, who was smarting with resent- 
 ment, withheld her customary echo. As she left the room 
 she breathed a silent, vindictive " You'll jolly well have 
 to ! " which matched her patron's words in intensity. 
 
 Fate ordained otherwise. On that night of the six- 
 teenth May, 1914, as the two men were about to enter 
 their club, Alexander Manners dropped dead, falling into 
 the arms of John Blackwood who was on the step below. 
 The next morning the news was abroad everywhere.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 IT was natural and quite to be expected that the death 
 of Alexander Manners, falling as it did, should be a ter- 
 rible shock to John Blackwood; and no one who knew 
 the latter was surprised to see that the reserved and 
 kindly gentleman had apparently aged by many years 
 since the death of his intimate, lifelong friend. But that 
 Caleb Cotton, Blackwood's partner and Manners's law- 
 yer, should have taken his death sadly to heart seemed, 
 to the few who were aware of it, strange and even inex- 
 plicable. For Cotton had known his client only slightly 
 up to the beginning of the trial, and though during the 
 course of it a genuine personal regard had grown up 
 between them, it was not yet sufficiently warm to account 
 for the effect Manners's death seemed to have upon the 
 lawyer. He looked like one smitten by an almost vital 
 blow. 
 
 As a matter of fact, he suffered vicariously. Years 
 before, Caleb Cotton had been connected with John 
 Blackwood in a railway case in the Middle West which 
 had stretched out over a year. He had conceived an 
 admiration for the older man which had grown into warm 
 affection during the interval between that period and the 
 time when Blackwood, tremendously impressed on his 
 part by Cotton, had brought him on East to become his 
 partner. In the past two years of close association, the 
 big, lonely heart of the Westerner had gone out wholly 
 and unreservedly to the quiet scholarly lawyer, the pro- 
 
 33
 
 34 FIREWEED 
 
 found thinker, the kindly gentleman, whose professional 
 standing seemed to intensify his isolation. He who had 
 never realized his own loneliness realized Blackwood's 
 in an almost disproportionate manner. And now he felt 
 to the utmost the cruelty of the loss of Blackwood's friend 
 under peculiarly painful circumstances. 
 
 Moreover, he blamed himself, if not as a contribut- 
 ing cause of Manners's death, at least as having made its 
 significance more painful. He had been over severe to- 
 wards the woman whom, through it all, Alexander Man- 
 ners had loved. He had hurt him terribly overmuch 
 through her. He had only, it is true, striven with all 
 his might, absolutely convinced of the righteousness of 
 his cause, that justice might be done his friend's good 
 friend. But he had bungled, blundered. He had been 
 too hard, not upon the woman, had she alone been con- 
 cerned, but for the man who was so much finer-tempered 
 that blows that glanced off her thick armor penetrated 
 straight to his heart. Nancy Cotton heard her father 
 pacing the floor of his chamber that midnight of the i6th 
 May and many subsequent midnights. 
 
 Blackwood, who had had no shadow of criticism, but 
 had only been drawn the more closely to his partner dur- 
 ing the course of the trial and by the death of his friend, 
 went away directly after Alexander Manners's funeral 
 to recuperate from the only shock and the greatest grief 
 of his life. Returning after three weeks' absence, he 
 found Cotton a stalking shadow of his former self. 
 Always thin and gaunt, the man was worn to emaciation, 
 with hollow eyes and cheeks and deepened lines in his 
 brow and about his large humorous mouth. Understand- 
 ing dimly, and deeply moved, John Blackwood pondered 
 the matter for a day and a night. He dropped into Cot- 
 ton's office late the following afternoon. 
 
 Caleb Cotton, in the act of stuffing papers and blue
 
 FIREWEED 35 
 
 books into his bag, looked up in surprise which deepened 
 to amazement as his partner without preliminary pro- 
 posed that he should take the three summer months for a 
 holiday. 
 
 " Why, John Blackwood, what put that queer notion 
 into your head ? " he demanded. 
 
 Blackwood sat down and lighted a cigar after pressing 
 one upon his friend who preferred his pipe. 
 
 " See here, Cotton, when was your last vacation, any- 
 how ? " he asked. 
 
 " I don't recollect." Cotton smiled in his comical fash- 
 ion, tipping back in his chair. His mouth was large, his 
 jaw bony and prominent, his upper lip over long ; and his 
 smile, as well as being irresistibly frank, was usually 
 irresistibly droll also. 
 
 " Man, have you had a week off these ten years ? " 
 
 Cotton lighted his cigar while he considered. 
 
 " I can't say that I have, partner," he returned. 
 
 " Great Scott ! have you ever had a week's vacation ? " 
 
 " Perhaps never a full week, partner, not since I 
 was fourteen," he said simply. " But after all, what 
 would I do with it ? " He waved the cigar aloft. " Most 
 likely I'd simply wander around visiting courts of law. 
 For you see, after all, there's nothing I like so well as 
 practising law." 
 
 " There's Europe," suggested Blackwood. " That was 
 why I said three months instead of two. Wouldn't you 
 enjoy visiting foreign shores foreign court-rooms, if 
 you will ? " 
 
 The faraway look that came so readily to Cotton's 
 adventurous blue eyes shone forth almost romantically. 
 
 " For court-rooms, I shouldn't, my dear Blackwood, 
 go further afield than the U. S. A.," he declared, " but - 
 well, I certainly should like a chance to see the Roman 
 Forum. I have read in the history of Rome off and on
 
 36 FIREWEED 
 
 for twenty-odd years I got interested when I read 
 Caesar and Cicero and because of Roman Law. Yes, and 
 I'd like well to see the Tower of London and Napoleon's 
 tomb, and the flags that went through his campaigns with 
 him. And I should like visiting Venice and sailing in a 
 gondola, and I shouldn't mind a look at the harbor of 
 Constantinople, I believe it's the second largest in the 
 world. Some day, later on, I really mean to see all those 
 things and more; but I want to be ready for 'em, and 
 I'm not ready now, not by a long shot." 
 
 " Never mind that. Now's your chance, Cotton," 
 Blackwood asseverated. " You ought to go this sum- 
 mer and take Nancy. There'll never be a better time for 
 you to leave the office. I've had a rest and now I want 
 to work like a dog for three months until my mind gets 
 settled again. I shall be here straight through the sum- 
 mer. Another year it might not be easy for you to get 
 away for so long, it will never be thus simple again, 
 in all probability. And it would be first rate for Nancy, 
 brace her up for another winter. The girl looks deli- 
 cate and a change of that sort would work wonders with 
 her." 
 
 Cotton started violently. Nancy was the apple of his 
 eye. She had been ailing, and he had realized it only 
 vaguely. He had vaguely supposed she was growing too 
 fast. He dropped his cigar upon a tray on the desk 
 and ran his fingers through his hair. 
 
 " Oh there's nothing to be worried over, believe me, 
 Cotton," Blackwood cried quickly. "There's nothing 
 wrong with the child, I'm sure. And yet, I think it 
 might be well to take her abroad before she gets really 
 run down. You would hardly want to send her with 
 someone else?" 
 
 " Oh no, Blackwood, we neither of us could stand that," 
 Cotton declared. " Nanny's scarcely been out of my
 
 FIREWEED 37 
 
 sight since she was a baby. Her mother was an invalid 
 and died when Nanny was six." 
 
 " Then take both my advice and your chance and go 
 with her. Catch one of the last June boats if you pos- 
 sibly can. Stokes has crossed more recently than I and 
 knows the ropes. He'll help put the thing through. And 
 mark my word, you'll have a different daughter to bring 
 back." 
 
 Cotton picked up his cigar and puffed at it as if it 
 were a pipe. For some moments there was silence be- 
 tween them. 
 
 "I'll consider it overnight ; but I reckon you've won, 
 partner," Cotton said finally. And John Blackwood de- 
 parted exultantly. 
 
 Cotton proposed it to his daughter that night. Nancy 
 turned deadly pale. A year ago, six months ago, the 
 prospect of such a journey with her father would have 
 filled the girl with the height of exultation. To-day the 
 proposal fell upon her sad heart like a blow, seeming to 
 make its burden heavier. In the suddenness of it, she 
 could have cried out. It was all she could do to refrain 
 from wild protestations. Only the realization that her 
 father's partner must have suggested it in the interest of 
 his health steadied her, enabled her to conquer the inten- 
 sity of her shrinking and endeavor to simulate interest 
 and perhaps excitement. 
 
 The invitation was like a death sentence, except that 
 its misery was to be long drawn out. For Nancy Cotton, 
 like Stokes, had come to recognize different shades of 
 unhappiness. Only in her case it was sadder and more 
 pitiful in that the girl was young, even for her seventeen 
 years, she was good and innocent, and her passion, prema- 
 ture. An almost tragic change had come over the child 
 in those past six months during which Philip Stokes, in 
 the pursuit of his own moral and temporal well-being,
 
 38 FIREWEED 
 
 had devoted the remnant of his will power to the attempt 
 to forget Erica Manners, deliberately striving to force 
 a sufficient interest in Nancy Cotton to create a back-fire 
 against his hopeless, consuming passion. 
 
 Nancy had irrevocably yielded her heart and her happi- 
 ness into his hands before she realized what was happen- 
 ing; and she had hardly learned that her error was fatal, 
 before she knew that it was likewise tragic. The story 
 of Stokes's infatuation for Mrs. Manners came to her 
 ears suddenly and with such conviction that she could not 
 do otherwise than believe it. It tallied too closely with 
 circumstances as she knew them, to be questioned; and 
 little as the girl mingled with others, it was not long 
 before she came to know that it was generally understood 
 throughout St. Vincent that this hopeless passion had 
 made him the indolent, unambitious, cynical, weary man 
 he was instead of the brilliant youth he might have been. 
 
 At the time her father made the announcement which 
 he believed would be so delightful to her, Nancy had 
 become accustomed to hiding her sorrow; and Cotton 
 merely thought she had not sufficient strength to support 
 the joyful excitement. And from that moment he deter- 
 mined that nothing should stand in the way of the trip 
 to Europe. 
 
 He blamed himself severely in that he had not before 
 noticed the change in his daughter which others besides 
 John Blackwood must have noticed, and which was now 
 so startlingly apparent to him. Nancy was terribly thin. 
 She had lost her pretty color; she looked sadly as her 
 mother had looked just before she broke down and 
 became an invalid. As he would have left the room to 
 consult Cousin Abby, the housekeeper, who was a dis- 
 tant relative of Nancy's mother, he heard the door bell 
 ring and waited until she should have answered it. Then, 
 as his eyes fell on his daughter and he saw her face
 
 FIREWEED 39 
 
 flooded with delicate color, he said to himself she was 
 better already at the mere thought of the holiday journey. 
 
 The caller was Stokes, who had resumed of late his 
 habit of dropping in once or twice a week. He heard 
 the news Cotton had to relate with an interest almost 
 eager, his nearest approach to enthusiasm. For he 
 was singularly, rather romantically attached to Caleb 
 Cotton. 
 
 Presently, he turned to the girl in the shadow. 
 
 "This will be your first crossing, Miss Nancy?" he 
 asked kindly, opening his sleepy eyes rather wider than 
 usual. 
 
 Nancy, paler now than ever, assented with a faint 
 smile. 
 
 " Well, by George, I envy you ! " he declared, still in 
 that kindly way in which one speaks to a school -girl. 
 " Do you know, a jaded beggar like yours truly has simply 
 to hold his breath to think of what it'll all mean to the 
 like of you, Miss Nancy. And to ship with such a mate 
 as your father ! Great Scott ! When do you sail ? " 
 
 One word, one most conventional expression of regret 
 for their going would have meant everything to the girl. 
 This eagerness to have her gone stabbed her cruelly. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she cried, " not for a long time 
 yet, I think. I only knew of it an hour ago." 
 
 " The surprise nearly took her breath away," com- 
 mented Cotton. " Blackwood wants us to catch a June 
 boat." 
 
 " Sure, June's the time, since you've lost May," said 
 Stokes. " Well, you're right in the swim. Everybody's 
 doing it. Mrs. Manners is on the other side already, I 
 understand." 
 
 " You don't say ! " ejaculated Cotton in what the lady 
 mentioned would have called his choicest Western 
 manner.
 
 40 FIREWEED 
 
 " Sure thing. I heard it only yesterday. She v/ent 
 up into the country the day her husband was buried, and 
 this tidings that she had sailed was the first news any one 
 had of her." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I asked my sister if she had gone into mourning," 
 he added cynically. " Curious, isn't it, that she should 
 be a true-blue widow with a big fortune, when all she 
 had hoped for was to become a grass widow with ali- 
 mony ? " 
 
 Stokes continually mentioned Mrs. Manners, and in- 
 variably in cynical, uncomplimentary terms; but it hap- 
 pened that Nancy Cotton had never before heard him 
 speak her name. She could scarcely believe that she had 
 heard aright. Surely he would not speak thus lightly of 
 one for whom he cared ! He must have ceased to do so. 
 Those shocking revelations of the trial, of which she had 
 had vague intimations, must have sickened him. 
 
 " I suppose she is sorry now that she brought the 
 trial ? " she asked timidly. 
 
 Again, he shrugged his shoulders. " In that case, you 
 see, Manners would still, in all likelihood, be alive, and 
 everything as of old. Oh, no, Mrs. Manners wouldn't 
 stand for that." 
 
 " Now, Phil, I wouldn't go so far as that," protested 
 Cotton. 
 
 " But pappy," cried Nancy, scarcely realizing what she 
 said, " Mrs. Manners is a very wicked woman. I heard 
 them talking at Miss Logan's about her." 
 
 Stokes laughed out. 
 
 " Why Miss Nancy ! " he cried banteringly, " to think 
 of your listening to old wives' gossip. I never would 
 have believed it if you hadn't yourself divulged it." 
 
 Nancy flushed. Born in the West, she looked never- 
 theless to Stokes like photographs of New England girls
 
 FIREWEED 41 
 
 of a generation or more earlier in his mother's album at 
 the old place up in the country. And yet, " old-fash- 
 ioned " wasn't adequate, perhaps no adjective was, to 
 describe Nancy, who suggested all sorts of sweet images. 
 Perhaps it would be easier to express the effect the girl 
 made upon one by spiritual rather than aesthetic terms. 
 She was like a white flame, a pure, colorless radiance. 
 
 Seeing her after ,the long interval, Stokes had realized 
 at once the change that had come over her. Thin and 
 wan; there was a sad, almost hurt look in the girl's 
 eyes; and he, at once so wise and so weary, read this, 
 reluctantly clear-sighted. Some girlish grief had come 
 to her, he decided, and was gently sorry. But he thought 
 it to be no more serious than the loss of a kitten or a 
 pet canary, magnified by her sensitive nature. And he 
 was as ever gently playful when addressing her. 
 
 The flush died out. Nancy persisted in her effort to 
 set her father right. 
 
 " Pappy, they said she didn't even care for her little 
 baby, nor mind when it died, and " 
 
 She paused and flushed the more deeply. 
 
 " Oh, pappy, you don't like me to repeat such things? " 
 she cried deprecatingly. 
 
 " Why, honey, I never knew you to do any such thing 
 before," returned her father in some surprise. " But I 
 think it's rather a good plan not to say people are wicked 
 unless they happen to be right on the spot. And in this 
 case, if Mrs. Manners did wrong, she certainly has re- 
 ceived a terrible punishment." 
 
 " None the less, sympathy is rather wasted on her," 
 Stokes remarked laconically. " She didn't, after all, you 
 see, take Manners's death so bloomin' hard. What she 
 minded most, believe me, was the flop-over of public sen- 
 timent. She had reached the point of being absolutely 
 dotty over the publicity the notoriety if you will of
 
 42 FIREWEED 
 
 that trial ; she really gloated over the washing and airing 
 of her dirty linen before that inquisitive crowd that was 
 with her from the start. But Mr. Manners's death 
 changed all that. On a sudden, feeling was dead against 
 her. And it hit hard." 
 
 Nancy was gazing at him almost in fascination. What 
 did it mean? To her Philip Stokes was the embodiment 
 of wisdom, wisdom in the Biblical sense, coupled with 
 a certain esoteric knowledge which gave him that air of 
 cynical, indifferent yet noble elegance which was to her 
 mind the modern equivalent of the chivalry of old. How 
 clearly he saw into the meaning of things ! How readily 
 he separated the ill from the good. Of course, such an 
 one couldn't care for a woman like Mrs. Manners 
 couldn't at least continue to care for her after he had 
 come to know her fully. His every word confuted the 
 things said against him. And yet 
 
 Moving farther into the shadow, the girl found herself 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 " Well, it's not unlikely that that may work out for the 
 best," Cotton commented hopefully, " You never can 
 tell. Public opinion is truly a great steadying force. I 
 am glad that Mrs. Manners has gone to Europe, and I'm 
 glad that she is still young. With her youth and under 
 fresh skies, she may apply the lesson she seemed to 
 repudiate here." 
 
 " She's young only in years," Stokes observed. Then 
 dropping the cynical tone, he asked with some eagerness : 
 "And how do you go, Mr. Cotton, lone hand?" 
 
 Cotton's worn face, which seemed to have added weary 
 lines as the trial was recalled, lighted up. " What do you 
 think ! It has come to me since you rang that door bell 
 that the way is clear for us. I reckon there's a party 
 we can join. An old friend and neighbor of ours men- 
 tioned in a letter that she wrote early in the spring that
 
 FIREWEED 43 
 
 she was going to Europe to spend the summer with a 
 party being made up out there. The Rev. Dr. Burgess, 
 Presbyterian pastor in a city five miles north of Buell, 
 our old home, has been conducting tours for a dozen 
 summers, more or less, and he's on the job this year. 
 There are some school teachers going, so he won't be 
 starting until well along in June ; and if we can't get the 
 same boat, I feel certain we can catch him easily. I 
 believe I will write him to-night." 
 
 " Why not telegraph ? " suggested Stokes. " Write it 
 out and I'll send it as I go home." 
 
 Cotton accepted the amendment, pulled out his pocket 
 book, scribbled two lines with a lawyer's facility and 
 handed it to the younger man. 
 
 "I didn't ask you whether you approved of that way of 
 traveling," he remarked. 
 
 " For the first time crossing, it's certainly mighty con- 
 venient not to be bothered in the matter of routes, book- 
 ings, unfamiliar time-tables, hotel tariffs and foreign 
 tongues," Stokes admitted. " At the same time you are 
 pretty constantly mixed up with a job lot of people," he 
 added. 
 
 " Bless your heart, boy, but I like that part of it almost 
 best of all ! " cried Cotton. " You know, I've been so 
 busy all my life rait I never yet saw anything like what 
 I want to see of people, of my fellow human beings. The 
 plain truth is that I just dote on seeing them and watching 
 them and talking with them by the hour, if only I can 
 find the hour. And do you know, Phil, outside the courts 
 of law, it seems to me as if the great majority of people 
 hadn't any faults at all, none that interfere with your 
 liking 'em." 
 
 " Sometimes," said the young man gravely, his words 
 falling coldly on Nancy's heart, " sometimes it seems as 
 if they were the fortunate ones, those who have been
 
 44 FIREWEED 
 
 before the courts. Sometimes I wish that all our doings 
 were subject to just that : that they be carried before a 
 court of law and pronounced right or wrong, and then 
 either given over in the latter case, or, if held to, held to 
 labeled plainly. We are an unhonest lot, Mr. Cotton, 
 with our secret sins." 
 
 " But don't forget the secret virtues, Phil. There's a 
 heap of them, too," the older lawyer admonished him. 
 But his words carried no conviction to Stokes, and though 
 Nancy tried to hug them to her heart, they were somehow 
 cold comfort.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE members of the Burgess party were literally 
 prompt to a fault. There had been no occasion since 
 their landing at Liverpool when one of them had kept 
 the others waiting for so long as three minutes. Even 
 Mary Little, who was a rattling, inconsequential sort of 
 person, and always had final messages for the servants 
 and functionaries of the hotels and pensions where they 
 stopped, as well as the vergers and guides in public places, 
 usually rushed in among the assembled company, breath- 
 less and flushed and full of laughing excuses about John 
 or Betty or Hans, just as the hands of the clock told the 
 appointed hour. Indeed, the difficulty was that the ma- 
 jority erred on the side of over-promptness ; so that five 
 or six out of the nine were always ready and waiting for 
 any expedition ten minutes beforehand, thus burdening 
 the merely prompt with a factitious sense of remissness. 
 
 On this particular day, a fair cool afternoon of early 
 July, they were to set out shortly after lunch to visit what 
 was for some of them the chief attraction of The Hague : 
 the palace dedicated to international peace. At a quarter 
 before two, Dr. Burgess, their leader, and his wife were 
 seated in wicker chairs outside the door of the rambling, 
 comfortable old Dutch hotel near the Vyver, whose floor 
 was raised above the ground only by the inconsiderable 
 height of the threshold, gazing contentedly out into the 
 quiet, shaded square. Miss Cameron and Miss Griffiths, 
 school teachers from Detroit, the former tall, plain, 
 
 45
 
 46 FIREWEED 
 
 middle-aged and capable looking ; the latter small, young, 
 graceful, and pretty in a slightly prim fashion, sat just 
 within, conning their Baedeker; while Miss Little stood 
 talking with the old Dutch portier who had been forty 
 years at the inn and was the factotum and general man- 
 ager. 
 
 Mary Little, just under thirty, of independent means, 
 laughed constantly as she chatted. Her personal appear- 
 ance answered singularly to her manner everything 
 about her was attractive but slightly over-emphasized. 
 As one looked at her, the high color in her cheeks sug- 
 gested excitement; it rarely faded or lessened; but after 
 all, she commonly appeared to be excited. Gushing in 
 manner and unconsciously patronizing as she was, as a 
 member of the party, she wore very well. 
 
 She towered far above the little porter with whom she 
 was discussing the history of the cross lame dog which 
 always lay on a particular mat in a most inconvenient 
 place near the central front door. The Dutchman stood 
 just four feet from the ground. But though short, he was 
 stout, inordinately stout, so that his circumference below 
 where his waist would naturally have been, had he pos- 
 sessed a waist, must have equaled his height. His small 
 round head was like a bullet, his round face very red, not 
 to say purple, with short, stiff white hair standing straight 
 up from his forehead. He spoke English in an explosive, 
 guttural manner, his words coming seemingly from the 
 depths of his capacious paunch, and with such apparent 
 difficulty that it often seemed as if he had been seized 
 with a fit when he was merely struggling for utterance. 
 
 Hannah Melendy, after Nancy Cotton the youngest of 
 the Burgess party, a girl of one-and-twenty just out of 
 college and about to enter medical school in the autumn, 
 strolled through the corridor on her way upstairs. She 
 was dressed in boyish rather than masculine fashion, and
 
 FIREWEED 47 
 
 looked like a charming boy. Her cheerful grin as she 
 noted Miss Little's characteristic preoccupation, disclosed 
 a pair of boyish dimples. 
 
 Pausing, she made the usual inquiry to the porter as 
 to foreign mail. 
 
 " Lebdarrs ubstairs," he growled or exploded, and 
 the girl turned quickly. But Miss Little laid a restrain- 
 ing hand on her shoulder. 
 
 " Where's your hat, sonny ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Ubstairs," said the girl gravely. " I'm not going. 
 I'm taking an afternoon off, Little Mary." And Miss 
 Melendy hitched herself from beneath the long-fingered 
 grasp. 
 
 " Oh, but infant, everybody's going ! " cried Miss Little. 
 " Even Mrs. Burgess is going. What do you think of 
 that?" And she laughed. 
 
 Miss Melendy shrugged her shoulders. " It will 
 simply mean that the winter supply of the Burgess house- 
 hold will be shy one doily," she answered. " But what 
 struck her, Little dear ? " 
 
 Miss Little raised her high brows conspicuously and 
 lowered them to indicate that the lady was just outside. 
 Then she laughed again. 
 
 " Listen, kid. Mrs. Burgess told Maude Griffiths that 
 she felt constrained to go, having once been vice presi- 
 dent of the W.C.T.U. Did you ever hear anything so 
 screamingly funny ? " 
 
 Miss Melendy grinned. " Never," she asseverated. 
 " At least, hardly ever, Little Mary, once or twice, per- 
 haps." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton, come here, please ! " cried Miss Little 
 to the lawyer, who was coming through from the office, 
 bending his head, unnecessarily, in this instance, as he 
 passed under the door. 
 
 " What do you think ! " she exclaimed as he joined
 
 48 FIREWEED 
 
 them, " our little Hank isn't going with us this afternoon. 
 She's craw-fished out of it." 
 
 Cotton eyed Miss Melendy with some surprise. Like 
 himself, the girl appeared to be tireless and insatiable in 
 the matter of sight-seeing. Under his scrutiny, she 
 flushed ever so slightly. 
 
 " I reckon I'm sick of hearing Aristides called the 
 Just," she explained. " Somehow, I don't give a hang 
 for a nearer view of that smug, bulbous old peace palace." 
 
 " / say," cried Miss Little with the Indiana emphasis 
 on the pronoun, "isn't she awful, Mr. Cotton? Aren't 
 such sentiments heretical ? " 
 
 Cotton smiled. 
 
 " Well, now, I understand somewhat how Miss Me- 
 lendy feels," he said quietly, turning to the girl. " The 
 idea is sound, but there truly is something rather repug- 
 nant to one's sense of fitness in having it thus set off by 
 itself, separated from other elements of national and 
 international life, and covered over with this huge monu- 
 ment. Any abstraction taken by itself, made an object 
 of semi-intellectual worship, and so more or less a fad, 
 must wither and become in a way dry and juiceless. 
 Oftentimes it happens well, now, do you know, I 
 shouldn't myself greatly wonder if some day when they 
 came to roll the stone away they would find the tomb 
 empty, and in this case, no angel by its side." 
 
 At that instant, Mrs. Miles burst suddenly upon them, 
 stout and red-faced and looking as if her clothing was 
 too tight and very uncomfortable. She was from Buell, 
 Indiana, the Cottons' former home, and asked anxiously 
 if Nancy were not going. As Miss Melendy settled a 
 bulging bit of Mrs. Miles's lawn blouse, Cotton explained 
 that Nancy hardly felt up to it. And while she was 
 lamenting the fact, the two remaining members of the 
 party appeared.
 
 FIREWEED 49 
 
 These were Miss Williams and Miss Addie Budd. The 
 latter, a cousin of Mrs. Miles's from Vermont, was a very 
 stout, very blonde, very placid lady in the late thirties. 
 Miss Williams, who usually paired with her, resembling 
 her in nothing but her uniform admiration of everything 
 they came across, was the oldest of the party, small, thin, 
 nervous and short-sighted, not unlike a bony little bird 
 in appearance, for she was always hopping about and 
 chirping, dipping her head this way and that because of 
 her short range of vision. 
 
 Now the party was off, only Caleb Cotton lagging 
 behind a few moments to jot down in a little red book 
 he always carried in his breast pocket the words on a 
 cart just passing through the square. " Houthandel 
 Zagerij Schaverij," it was mere gibberish to him, but 
 entertaining, and destined to serve as an illustration in 
 court at a later day. The cross, fat dog closed both 
 eyes he usually lay with one open the porter seated 
 himself, folded his short-fingered hands over the narrow- 
 est girth of his stomach and prepared to doze. Miss 
 Melendy ascended the stair. Nancy Cotton, alone in her 
 corner room overlooking the Vyver and the square, 
 watched the party until the last straggler had disappeared. 
 Then she drew forth her writing materials. 
 
 For more than a", hour the girl wrote feverishly, filling 
 page after page with her small, pretty script. As she 
 wrote, she was another person, more vivid, more alive; 
 there was a spirit about her that made her seem more 
 a personage, more worthy of being her father's daughter. 
 
 More than once, she had to dash the tears from her 
 eyes, and twice she stopped and bowed her head upon 
 the table before her. But she held to it until she had 
 apparently satisfied herself so far as possible. Signing 
 herself " Always and for ever your loving Nancy," after 
 she had sealed it and addressed it with minute, loving
 
 5 o FIREWEED 
 
 care, she tore it into tiny fragments and consigned them 
 to the waste basket. 
 
 Unless she was ill, never a day passed when Nancy 
 did not thus pour out her heart in a letter to Philip 
 Stokes which she invariably destroyed as soon as it was 
 finished. Writing was not so much solace as relief ; nor 
 was it great relief at that. It was only that without some 
 such slight easing of her burden, she could never have 
 borne it from day to day. 
 
 She had scarcely dried her eyes when Miss Melendy's 
 familiar drum-tap sounded on the door. The blinds were 
 lowered and the room dim, but Miss Melendy perceived 
 at once that Nancy had been crying and had to steel her 
 heart to enable her to carry through the purpose that had 
 made her seek Nancy in the absence of the others. 
 
 Too frank by nature to lead up to her point dexterously, 
 the girl explained rather lamely that she had just finished 
 her daily installment to her father. 
 
 " It's some grind, believe me ! " she declared, " but I 
 dassn't stop lest dad stop supplies." 
 
 She glanced at the portfolio on the table. 
 
 " You have been improving the time also," she re- 
 marked. " Got lots of correspondents, honey ? " 
 
 Nancy took no exception to the question ; for already 
 there was real warmth of affection between the two girls. 
 But she paled sensitively. 
 
 " No, Hank, no one, really, except Cousin Abby. She 
 is Miss Abby Manning, who came on from back home 
 with us and keeps house for pappy and me. We wanted 
 her to come with us this summer, but she was afraid to 
 cross the ocean. I write her once a week and pappy 
 writes once." 
 
 As her eyes, too, fell upon the writing case, which was 
 in daily use, Nancy paled yet further with a deep sense 
 of guilt.
 
 FIRE WEED 51 
 
 Miss Melendy thrust her hands into her skirt pockets. 
 
 " Well, in a way, you're rather in luck not to have any 
 more than that on your mind," she declared. It struck 
 her that Nancy must be deadly pale to have it so apparent 
 in the dimness of the room. None the less, she forced 
 herself to go on relentlessly : " No girl friend pestering 
 you ; no man getting huffy if you don't " 
 
 " No, Hank," said Nancy, speaking more quickly than 
 was her wont. " I'm not much acquainted yet in our 
 new home, except with older people apd pappy's friends. 
 And " 
 
 " Of course not, honey," returned Miss Melendy 
 warmly, " and of course " 
 
 Pausing, she raised her hands with a gesture of dis- 
 may. " For the love of Mike, is that bunch back 
 already ! " she exclaimed, and pushing up the blind nearest, 
 peered out into the square. " Sure, here they come. You 
 can't mistake Little Mary's laugh, can you? She's cate- 
 chising poor old Jan to beat the band, and he hasn't once 
 opened his little round peepers since she left. Well, that 
 means I must toddle on. I promised Mrs. Miles to take 
 her to a shop I discovered yesterday in the Korte Poten 
 to get some Dutch buttons. So long, honey. See you at 
 dinner." 
 
 Hannah Melendy went whistling to her room to get 
 her Panama hat and chamois gloves. But for all that 
 her heart wasn't light. Something of the heaviness of 
 Nancy's had settled upon it. 
 
 It had happened that Miss Melendy was the one person 
 of the little group who were associated so familiarly and 
 even intimately who guessed the real nature of Nancy 
 Cotton's malady. No one else, not even Nancy's father, 
 dreamed that the root of the trouble was other than 
 physical. Cotton acknowledged that Nancy was run 
 down, but seemed to see that she was picking up. That,
 
 52 FIREWEED 
 
 however, was apparent to no one else. The others could 
 but see that the girl tired more easily as the days passed, 
 drooping and growing yet paler, and that she went about 
 with them less and less, even when they drove all the 
 way. Nevertheless they attributed it to a frail consti- 
 tution. 
 
 In the face of this mature opinion, Miss Melendy hesi- 
 tated to credit her own intuitive judgment. But the more 
 she pondered the atter, the more she was with Nancy, 
 the less could she combat the conviction that had seized 
 her very shortly after the party had reached Liverpool. 
 It had been borne in upon her that Nancy Cotton, child 
 as she was otherwise, was in love, unhappily and perhaps 
 tragically. 
 
 From the very first, Hannah Melendy's heart had gone 
 out to the younger girl, something of boyish chivalry in 
 her being touched by the vision of innocent maidenhood 
 Nancy presented. From the very first, too, she had been 
 troubled about her, resenting openly, yet remembering 
 secretly, Mrs. Miles's hint of the shadow of early death 
 upon her brow. And when she had finally acknowledged 
 the probability nay, the inevitability, of her own diag- 
 nosis, there was no limit to her tenderness and pity. Her 
 heart yearned towards Nancy, and the longing to help 
 her and perhaps even to heal, became paramount with 
 her. With no experience of hopeless passion, it was 
 almost as if she knew by prescience of its fatally con- 
 suming power. 
 
 But what was it that Nancy wanted or who, rather ? 
 That was the rub. Before they left England, Miss Me- 
 lendy had been satisfied that no one on this side of the 
 water, except Nancy herself, knew aught of any lover or 
 of any love story connected with the girl. Mrs. Miles 
 spoke of her as leaving Buell two years earlier, not, 
 indeed, robust, but a rosy, blooming girl of fifteen ; while
 
 FIREWEED 53 
 
 her father couldn't have been less suspicious of any such 
 thing if Nancy hadn't yet entered her teens. The neces- 
 sity of seeking a pou sto from Nancy herself had im- 
 pressed itself upon Miss Melendy some time since. Only 
 she had recently determined to seek it more actively, even 
 though she had to be ruthless ; to use the scalpel if 
 there were no other means towards her recovery. 
 
 She hadn't used it to any purpose to-day, however, she 
 said to herself late that afternoon as she returned to the 
 inn and stood a few moments gazing wistfully out upon 
 the carpet of withered yellow leaves in the square. As 
 she entered, her attention was attracted to Nancy's win- 
 dows by the sudden raising of the green blinds to their 
 full height. She almost saw Cotton's long arms; and 
 then she wondered whether in the strong light he would 
 notice traces of his daughter's sorrow. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Caleb Cotton noticed nothing as 
 he sat down with Nancy to read his letters. Opening and 
 glancing over them, he commented upon each. One was 
 from Philip Stokes, who wrote from a fashionable water- 
 ing place where he passed week-ends with his sister, 
 apparently more bored than ever. A flippant, gossipy 
 letter, with a few words on books and a few more on 
 politics, it partook of the careless personal charm of the 
 writer. In a postscript, the young man mentioned that 
 Alexander Manners's widow, who was in undisputed pos- 
 session of the bulk of his property, was in the South of 
 England for the summer with her shadow, the companion- 
 nurse. 
 
 Having perused this letter rather more carefully than 
 the others, which he read again in his own room, Cotton 
 handed it to his daughter. 
 
 " From Phil ; not much in it, but so like him you hear 
 his very voice," he remarked. 
 
 Nancy, marble white, took it in her trembling hand, but
 
 54 FIREWEED 
 
 would not trust herself to read it until she was alone. 
 When she could control her voice she asked in low tones 
 whether he wished to have it back. 
 
 " No, honey, I reckon I've got the gist of it," he said, 
 and her sad heart leaped. Then he pursed his lips in 
 his droll way and remarked : " Well, I don't know but 
 what you'd better keep it. I might look at it again." 
 
 Nancy read and re-read the letter until she knew it 
 by heart. Again and again she pressed it to her lips, to 
 her cheek, to her heart. She slept with it under her 
 pillow, drawing it forth continually in her long hours 
 of waking. She traced the word " Dear " from the 
 beginning and her own name from the close where he 
 had politely sent his regards to Miss Nancy and agonized 
 over the painful bliss the sight of it gave her. Then her 
 conscience forced her to tear it into bits. 
 
 She handed it silently to her father when he brought 
 in Miss Abby's letter next morning. He glanced 
 through it again and made a taper of it with which to 
 light his pipe.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 HE stood, a quaint figure, in very truth, before the 
 little alcove in the Musee Carnavalet where Marie-Antoi- 
 nette's poor bed with its cretonne coverings, her bare 
 dressing table whose few empty, heavy glass scent bottles 
 seemed still to flout her lost beauty, and other odd be- 
 longings, including the little writing-desk of the Princess 
 Royal, reproduce the room in the Temple where the last 
 tragic months in the life of the unhappy queen were wept 
 away. He was tall, very tall, and exceedingly lank. His 
 hair, iron grey and curling slightly from the heat of the 
 day, stood somewhat awry, disarranged by the Panama 
 hat which he held in his hand. His long arms were folded 
 over his breast with sharply protruding elbows. His 
 face, lantern-jawed, with overhanging brow, small, deep- 
 set eyes, large features and hollow cheeks, wore an ex- 
 pression of wonder, of incredulity, such as to make him 
 present, together with his awkward, angular person, a 
 fatally easy subject for caricature. Only somehow, at 
 the moment one would not have dared. 
 
 No one could have looked twice into those deep-set, 
 honest eyes, blue as a child's, without reading the deep 
 and chivalrous feeling that converted the look upon his 
 face from blank wonder into intense deprecation, noble 
 protest. And indeed, the man could not conceive the 
 fact that this scene commemorated, which had become 
 so intensely real that it was to him an affair of yesterday. 
 Now his warm heart cried out against it even more 
 warmly than it had done in early youth when he had 
 
 55
 
 5 6 FIREWEED 
 
 first read the story. He could not accept, could not 
 reconcile himself to the fate of this woman whose last 
 wild prayer had gone out more than a hundred years 
 before. 
 
 He had come hither after a slow progress through the 
 adjoining hall, after long, deliberate study of the por- 
 traits of Marie-Antoinette as Princess and as Queen in 
 the flush of her youth and royalty. In them, in one and 
 all, it must be confessed, he had been disappointed, bit- 
 terly disappointed. With all his keenness, and all his 
 charity and he had abundance he had been able to 
 find little but selfishness in that blooming face, and that 
 not particularly refined selfishness. He acknowledged 
 that he should not have expected to find more. He had 
 not long since read a book that went deeply into the early 
 years of the life of the Austrian Princess, pondering 
 much upon it, as was his wont, and had not found therein 
 warrant for what was probably, when all was said, the 
 mere yearning of a hero worshiper. 
 
 But all that only went to make this scene the more 
 moving. Now, as he reached the last station in the 
 Queen's career, as he saw above the poor bed the colored 
 print of " La Veuve Capet," he realized the more keenly 
 the cruelty of suffering that could have wrought this 
 tragically sad, pitifully refined grey-haired woman from 
 that glowing, rosy, careless girl. He shook his head 
 sadly, deprecatingly. More than ever he wondered that 
 the heart of mankind could have tolerated it. 
 
 For many moments he stood motionless, quite absorbed, 
 utterly lost to all about him, unaware of any other person 
 in the quiet gallery. Finally he turned slowly from the 
 placard whose large black letters summoned whoever 
 would to attend the funeral obsequies of the most unhappy 
 of queens, and turning, found himself face to face with 
 a woman a young girl she seemed to him clad in
 
 FIREWEED 57 
 
 white, whose pretty, shallow brown eyes had grown wist- 
 ful as she had witnessed his absorption. 
 
 Called suddenly from another world, for an instant, 
 Caleb Cotton stood inside the threshold. The chance 
 meeting was a curious shock to the man. It was more 
 than a shock; that is, it was a double, a twofold shock. 
 For at first he did not realize the actual. Still in the 
 past, he stared at the girl incredulous. For a fraction of 
 a second, he believed himself to be looking upon the 
 living face of the young Queen the call to whose obse- 
 quies he had only now heard. Whether there were, in- 
 deed, any vague resemblance, other than in the color of 
 the hair, between this delicate, slender, quite modern 
 looking girl and the rosy, buxom Austrian Princess, or 
 whether it were some subtlety of color or expression 
 visible to his clear sight, it would be impossible to deter- 
 mine. Most likely, it was simply a refraction of his 
 imagination which, at that- moment, would have trans- 
 formed any young woman confronting him thus unex- 
 pectedly into the likeness of the subject of his preoccu- 
 pation. 
 
 In any event, the sensation endured only for a moment. 
 There followed the recognition that the newcomer was 
 someone whom he had seen before. And the complemen- 
 tary shock fell with full recognition. 
 
 Beneath all this really a matter of seconds rather 
 than of minutes Erica Manners had grown deadly pale. 
 As Caleb Cotton stared at her without acknowledging 
 her presence by any slightest gesture, she believed he was 
 trying to express or possibly to hide the depths of 
 his contempt for her, his loathing and hatred. But before 
 she could turn, Cotton, recalled perchance to the actual 
 by her change of color, though not yet beyond the fact 
 that she was someone he had seen before, reached out 
 his big hand and was saying in the old Western way
 
 58 FIREWEED 
 
 these Indiana friends had recalled, " Why, how do you 
 do, ma'am ! " 
 
 With a singular revulsion of feeling, Erica Manners 
 put her little white-gloved hand into his. For the mo- 
 ment, the sudden, immense relief was akin to joy. Her 
 veins thrilled with excitement at the strong grasp of his 
 hand. 
 
 But she forgot herself only for a moment. Remem- 
 brance returned. She withdrew her hand and replied 
 coldly : " Thank you, Mr. Cotton, I am quite well." 
 
 As he had realized her identity, Cotton started to say 
 that he had mistaken her for someone else. But the 
 sudden weariness that enveloped him made him long only 
 to get away, and murmuring some formal word of cour- 
 tesy, he turned quickly. 
 
 Why she should have stopped him, Erica Manners 
 would have been at a loss to explain. But she seemed 
 impelled to detain him. 
 
 " O Mr. Cotton, please don't let me drive you away," 
 she said with the haughty insolence characteristic of her. 
 " I'm just leaving myself, going back to my hotel." 
 
 Still she made no move. Again, she seemed to be held. 
 For, on a sudden, she wanted desperately to talk with 
 this man, this man who had reviled her, who had held 
 her up to public contumely, who had called her " this 
 woman." And she might never see him again, never 
 have another opportunity to speak to him. 
 
 Opportunity for what? She did not know. Erica 
 Manners did not understand her impulse nor know what 
 she wanted. Of course she would have liked him to 
 retract what he had said, but that wasn't within the 
 limits of possibility. However, it wasn't impossible that 
 he should alter his opinion of her to a certain extent. 
 Goodness knows she didn't want him to like her, but she 
 felt sure that she could, with a chance, compel his respect.
 
 FIREWEED 59 
 
 She could hardly expect to accomplish it off-hand, as it 
 were, at this chance meeting. Still, she couldn't let him 
 go without some effort an entering wedge. 
 
 " I am afraid I disturbed your meditation," she re- 
 marked politely. " You are you seem to be particu- 
 larly interested in Marie-Antoinette ? " 
 
 Replying, Cotton's voice and manner were so wholly 
 impersonal that Erica Manners could scarcely credit her 
 hearing. Could it be possible that he didn't actually rec- 
 ognize her? He had acted so at first, indeed, and he 
 hadn't called her by name. He spoke now as to a mere 
 acquaintance, not as to an enemy and certainly not as to a 
 friend. 
 
 " I am. I always have been. I wish they hadn't killed 
 her," he said simply, his deep voice vibrant with regret. 
 " She was young and thoughtless and hadn't had any sort 
 of up-bringing. After all, she did the best she knew, and 
 in the end, I reckon she was very much a woman as well 
 as a queen." 
 
 He looked absently at the scent-bottles. 
 
 " ' I thought ten thousand swords would have leaped 
 from their scabbards/ " he murmured, as if to himself, 
 and unconsciously drew a deep sigh. 
 
 Erica Manners stared at him. Herself overwhelmed 
 by memories of the court-room, she marveled to see him 
 so transported by the historic relic as to be oblivious of all 
 else. He wasn't speaking to her : he was talking to 
 Any one, merely thinking aloud. The relief from the 
 first shock of his staring was so great that Erica might 
 have been expected to be content that he didn't recall 
 her past, that bit of past that was common to them ; but 
 it was characteristic of her egotism that she resented his 
 forgetting her, even forgetting his hatred of her in his 
 contemplation of a woman who had been dead for over 
 a century.
 
 60 FIREWEED 
 
 " How old was she when she died ? " she asked, merely 
 to gain time. 
 
 " She was thirty-seven, ma'am, in her thirty-eighth 
 year," he replied in his precise way. 
 
 " Old enough to know better ! " she remarked flip- 
 pantly. 
 
 " She did know better, ma'am," he asserted almost 
 sternly. " Pray come here and look at this." 
 
 As he led her into the next gallery and pointed out a 
 miniature in the glass case in the center for her inspection, 
 he might have been a stern school-master. Erica on her 
 part fixed her eyes on it in docile fashion and endeavored 
 to see what he expected her to see therein, though inevi- 
 tably she saw considerably less. She saw only a Teutonic 
 face, long, with round, high-colored cheeks, an aquiline 
 nose, and hair very much the color of her own. 
 
 After a minute (which was longer than she required for 
 her quick, shallow appraisal) he conducted her in silence 
 back to the crude portrait sketch above the poor bed, 
 thin, hollow-eyed, widowed, sad, infinitely touching. 
 Whether it were the sharp contrast, the pathos in the 
 picture itself, or that she could not help being moved by 
 the depths of his feeling, Erica Manners was amazed to 
 find her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " You see ? " he asked almost eagerly. " Here, in this 
 portrait, she has learned not only what her mother ought 
 to have taught her, but likewise the lessons that only life 
 can teach. You can see that, ma'am ? " And he added 
 sadly : " I wish they hadn't put her to death. I can't 
 seem to bear the idea now less than ever of her 
 riding in that cart." 
 
 What curiously warm imaginative sympathy the man 
 had! Unable to get away from herself, Mrs. Manners 
 was seized with sudden self-pity. Ah! if only Cotton 
 had been her lawyer ! At this moment it seemed to her
 
 FIREWEED 61 
 
 sore heart as if to have him sorry for her would mean 
 oh, the world itself ! 
 
 On a sudden the room became dark. But it was not, 
 as Erica at first thought, because she saw through a blur 
 of tears. For in another instant the drops of a smart 
 shower were drenching the courtyard below the windows. 
 
 She glanced dubiously, though half absently, at her 
 fresh white linen suit, white shoes and filmy sunshade. 
 She wished Cotton might propose that they should sit 
 down to wait until the shower passed, and that failing, 
 longed to speak of it herself. But he quietly proposed 
 to call a cab for her, and they descended the stairs in 
 silence. He was such a mixture of inconsistencies, 
 bewailing the fate of the long dead, moralizing to her like 
 the gentleman in the silk hat and frock coat of the old- 
 fashioned children's books, and yet at the same time 
 quite at his ease in a strange foreign city, fetching a cab 
 as if it were a matter of course. 
 
 There was none within hailing distance of the covered 
 court, and he stepped out into the shower. During his 
 absence, Erica decided, in her spoilt child fashion, that 
 she wouldn't lose sight of him : she would not let him go 
 until she had spoken personally with him. She hardly 
 understood his " ma'aming " her : yet he had seemed per- 
 fectly ready to talk with her on impersonal matters. He 
 had no umbrella, and cabs were evidently scarce in the 
 neighborhood of the Musee ; she would insist upon taking 
 him to his hotel. On the way thither, she would in some 
 manner and to a certain extent justify herself before 
 him. She would impress it upon him that she was a 
 person to be respected. That was sufficient for her. 
 After that, she hoped never to see him again. 
 
 He returned with wet shoulders and a wet Panama 
 hat in his hand. The cab followed and he handed her 
 in. And though he repeated her direction to the cocker
 
 62 FIREWEED 
 
 with surprising glibness, Caleb Cotton had no time to 
 analyze his unusual facility, for Mrs. Manners had moved 
 to the farther side of the seat and was waiting for him 
 to get in beside her. 
 
 " Oh, thank you kindly, ma'am," he said politely, " but 
 I always walk when I am alone. I like to take in things 
 as I go along." 
 
 " But it's simply pouring, Mr. Cotton. You won't be 
 able to take in anything but wetness," she protested. 
 
 " I wasn't planning to go just yet," he owned in that 
 winning voice that would have made his worst enemy 
 forget his ugliness. " I rather want to go upstairs again 
 for a little." 
 
 Still she detained him. She wouldn't be baffled. She 
 would not let this man go out of her life forever thinking 
 so ill of her. She began to feel assured that if she could 
 speak with him at her ease, she could get him to under- 
 stand her side. It didn't seem wholly unlikely that he 
 might come even to pity her. 
 
 "Where are you staying, Mr. Cotton?" she asked 
 politely. Cotton, longing to get back to Marshal Ney, 
 absently named the hotel. 
 
 Mrs. Manners flushed. For it was the same whose 
 street and number he had just repeated to the coachman 
 for her. She signaled the man to go on, and bowing 
 frigidly went from his presence. 
 
 Well back under the hood of the carriage, Mrs. Man- 
 ners drove through the rue de Sevigne, seeing nothing 
 of the quaintness all about, into the rue de Rivoli, where 
 the throng of carriages, taxicabs and omnibuses made 
 progress very slow. Her cheeks burned hotly. The 
 repulse had been rude, indeed. She had shown she 
 must have seemed to show that she didn't want this to 
 have been merely a casual meeting and nothing more. 
 And he had tried to avoid ever seeing her again! He
 
 FIREWEED 63 
 
 had told her only under compulsion that they were both 
 staying at the same hotel ! Since he hadn't had the grace 
 to explain when she had given him her address, he might 
 have been decent enough to keep it to himself ! 
 
 Suddenly the blood mounted not only the more warmly 
 to her burning cheeks but to her brow as well. He must 
 have guessed that she wished to speak further with him. 
 Suppose he had thought she wanted oh, not to justify 
 herself, but to confess that he had been right and she 
 wrong! Ah! it would be just like him with his moraliz- 
 ing nature to get that maddening notion into his head. 
 That was why he had led her about to look at pictures 
 and expected her to be affected. And of course he had 
 believed himself to have succeeded. He must have seen 
 tears in her eyes. Good God! Had he believed them 
 tears of repentance? 
 
 Even so, he had been eager to be rid of her presence. 
 Erica clasped her hands far back in the carriage. Oh, 
 that she might never look upon his ugly face again ! But, 
 alas ! now she would be obliged to just for the once. 
 She would have to correct the false impression she had 
 made. It made no difference to her if a man of that 
 sort thought her worse than she really was ; but under 
 no circumstances would she have him believe her a 
 whining penitent, or even one who thought she had to 
 justify herself in any way for any action of her life. 
 
 Fortunately it would be simple to accomplish that. 
 Cotton was at the Royal. She would see him at night 
 and get the whole thing off her mind for always. 
 
 The rain ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Mrs. 
 Manners made the cocker stop and put back the top, 
 which he was loth to take the time to do. The sun shone 
 out dazzlingly. It would dry that Panama hat that made 
 the lawyer look like a haymaker, Erica decided, her sense 
 of humor coming to her aid and reducing the tenseness
 
 64 FIREWEED 
 
 of the situation. And she began to wonder why Cotton 
 of all persons should be in Paris ye gods ! visiting 
 the galleries ! And how did he happen to be staying at 
 this almost unknown little inn in the rue St. Honore? 
 
 She was herself only there by accident and had only 
 engaged her rooms that morning. A week ago Miss Lan- 
 caster had sprained her ankle, so that it would be some 
 time before she would be of service as a traveling com- 
 panion. At the instance of an old friend of her aunt's 
 who had lived at the Royal for years, Erica had reluc- 
 tantly decided to fall in with a conducted party rather 
 than take the burden of their traveling upon herself. 
 Through this lady, she had made arrangements with one 
 Dr. Burgess, an American clergyman now at the Royal, 
 who was on his way South with a party of nine, for 
 herself and Miss Lancaster to complete the tour with 
 them. On the whole it seemed rather better than to 
 secure a private courier. There would be no need of 
 her mixing with the party she was to have her own 
 rooms and always to travel first class. She merely wished 
 to be rid of the bother of bookings, tariffs and the like. 
 
 Meanwhile, Caleb Cotton had paid a second entrance 
 fee, and had returned to study the portraits of Napoleon 
 and his generals, he had felt like waiting until another 
 day before going back to Marie-Antoinette. But he lost 
 himself happily among the portraits and didn't think of 
 the interruption again until he was on his devious way 
 back to the Royal. 
 
 Just as Mrs. Manners had driven away, it had occurred 
 to him that she, too, was staying at the Royal. Now, on 
 a sudden, he quickened his strolling pace as it dawned 
 upon him that she and her nurse must be the strangers 
 who, it had been announced the night before, were to 
 join those who had left New York together and who
 
 FIREWEED 65 
 
 already seemed so like a family group that they rather 
 dreaded the advent of strangers. 
 
 Surely it was a strange coincidence! And surely it 
 was not a pleasing one. However, most likely when Mrs. 
 Manners should discover that he was among the party, 
 she would change her plans. She was an accomplished 
 and experienced traveler, he knew. 
 
 As he paused to look from the dark, narrow street into 
 a sunny courtyard, Cotton's face grew troubled. Mrs. 
 Manners's companion, he understood, had met with some 
 sort of accident. It might therefore be difficult for 
 her to make the change. In which case, he didn't see 
 anything else to do but to make other arrangements for 
 himself and Nancy. 
 
 He sighed. Nancy would be grieved to leave Miss 
 Melendy. For himself, the idea of parting from these 
 people he liked so warmly was hard to face. And he 
 wasn't sure that Dr. Burgess would have wanted the 
 newcomer if he had understood that those with whom 
 she had always associated would look down upon the 
 class of people who made up the party. 
 
 He recalled the interview he had just had with her. 
 Away from the importunate images of the Musee, he 
 could now give Mrs. Manners the undivided attention 
 he couldn't give her in the gallery, and his face grew still 
 more grave. He was surprised and even shocked to 
 realize how little she had changed. He had believed that 
 her husband's tragic death must have affected her tre- 
 mendously; he could not conceive it as otherwise; and 
 yet, so far as he could judge, it hadn't left a shadow. It 
 almost, indeed, it quite seemed to him that she looked 
 younger and fresher; she was truly like a young girl, 
 proud, scornful, selfish. Caleb Cotton's hand sought for 
 his pocket. She was flippant, merely flippant, in the face 
 of destiny.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 EXCEPT in instances where her exaggerated regard for 
 wealth and social standing prejudiced her, Elizabeth Lan- 
 caster was mistress of a goodly portion of common sense. 
 Wherefore, when she sprained her ankle, by a misstep 
 due to an absurdly narrow skirt, she understood that she 
 must give up everything for a fortnight and " favor " 
 the injured member all summer. 
 
 That this would not be simple nor easy, Miss Lancas- 
 ter well knew. In order to put it through, she would be 
 obliged to assert herself in a manner that for a person 
 in her position would be considered disagreeable. But 
 no one else would take any thought for her ; and neither 
 Erica Manners nor any other of the aristocratic ladies 
 who had taken her up would voluntarily spare her in 
 time of weakness, nor stand by her if she should become 
 incapacitated for usefulness to them. 
 
 She had proposed, most reluctantly, to return to Amer- 
 ica; but Mrs. Manners would not hear of that. She 
 declared she could temporarily do without massage and 
 other little services Miss Lancaster was in the habit of 
 rendering and that, if it should prove necessary, she 
 would arrange to relieve her of the details of travel by 
 getting a courier. Miss Lancaster knew that she did this 
 willingly ; but she would never have acknowledged that 
 what Mrs. Manners wanted and what she paid for liber- 
 ally she could still have, the services of a toady. 
 
 On the day when they moved to the Royal, where the 
 party which they had joined had quarters, as Mrs. Man- 
 
 66
 
 FIREWEED 67 
 
 tiers returned to the hotel after her visit to the Carna- 
 valet, she found Miss Lancaster asleep on the sofa in the 
 sitting-room which connected their bedrooms. Longing 
 to relieve her mind, to free herself from an unaccustomed 
 sense of chagrin that was akin to humiliation, Erica was 
 annoyed and even angry not to have an eager, waiting 
 ear. It would have been decent of Libby, she told her- 
 self, to wait until after lunch, when other cats napped; 
 then she might have slept the whole afternoon away. 
 But to doze off in the forenoon was disgusting ! 
 
 At the risk of breaking the Dresden china ball on the 
 handle, she dropped her sunshade noisily. But her 
 " Pardon me, Libby," was quite thrown away, for Miss 
 Lancaster slept on peacefully. Dropping a book was as 
 ineffectual, and picking it up, Erica stood a moment by 
 the table turning over its pages ; but she could not forget 
 herself : the words were words and letters nothing 
 more. 
 
 In desperation she decided to betake herself to the 
 hot garden ; for she felt as if she should go mad if she 
 remained alone with Libby in that ugly travesty of slum- 
 ber. But she felt indignant, as she seated herself in one 
 of the green painted chairs that encircled a round iron 
 table underneath a small fig tree, as she discovered 
 another woman in the further corner of the place. She 
 opened her book moodily. 
 
 Quiet and retired as if it were in the heart of the 
 country, the garden was enclosed on two adjoining sides 
 by the gray walls of the old hotel, which had been the 
 dormitory of a religious association, and on the other two 
 by high walls of stone overgrown with ivy, with a con- 
 fused tangle of green above and all about. The fig tree 
 was barren, but had beautiful glossy leaves, and further 
 shade was furnished by an horse-chestnut and a few small 
 maples. Shrubbery shi^mved the corners, and geraniums
 
 68 FIREWEED 
 
 and begonias bloomed rather palely in the narrow bor- 
 ders. If one could reconcile oneself to the substitution 
 of clean gravel for turf, it was a fairly satisfactory spot ; 
 but that some of the Americans failed to do. 
 
 Erica had not turned a page when the other occupant 
 of the garden, a stout woman with very small feet and 
 ankles which made for awkwardness in walking, quitted 
 her table and came and stood before her, smiling com- 
 placently. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Miles, of Buell, Indiana " (Erica added 
 the U.S.A.) she announced suavely, "and I presume 
 you're one of the two new members Dr. Burgess told us 
 last night we were to have the pleasure of receiving. 
 Welcome to our midst. You will, I am . c ure, find us 
 a cozy little family." 
 
 Erica eyed her superciliously. " I am Mrs. Manners," 
 she said coldly; while the other seated herself without 
 being asked. Then, as if that was all that was necessary 
 she looked down upon her book. Scorn was usually her 
 strongest feeling against such people, and ridicule was 
 more common than that. But Erica found herself hating 
 this woman hotly. She hated her smug complacency and 
 she hated her because she was fat. She viewed all stout 
 persons with scorn, indeed, though her own slenderness 
 was not at all because she was not indolent nor self-indul- 
 gent, but was in part hereditary and in part good luck. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners, are you going out with us this 
 afternoon ? " the newcomer asked eagerly. 
 
 " No, indeed, Mrs. Miles," returned Erica icily. " I 
 am afraid you hardly understand the circumstance which 
 compelled me to engage Mr. Burgess's services for myself 
 and my companion. We became members of the party 
 solely for convenience in traveling. I do not, of course, 
 expect to go about sightseeing I've been in Europe 
 time and again and it's quite likely that I sha'n't even
 
 FIREWEED 69 
 
 meet the other members. My companion sprained her 
 ankle, and I merely wish to get down into Italy with as 
 little bother as may be. That's all." 
 
 " You don't say ! " murmured Mrs. Miles, referring to 
 the accident. " How did she do it, Mrs. Manners ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure some carelessness, I fancy," 
 returned Erica insolently, poking the gravel with the toe 
 of her white shoe. 
 
 Mrs. Miles could hardly credit her ears. Was it pos- 
 sible that such things could be ? But her sympathy went 
 out the more warmly to the injured companion. 
 
 " Has she ever been abroad before ? " she asked with 
 deep concern evident in her decidedly Western voice. 
 
 "Miss Lancaster? I haven't the slightest idea. I 
 should fancy not." 
 
 " What a pity, for no doubt she'd admire to go about 
 with us," declared Mrs. Miles, who had had no experience 
 in being snubbed, and didn't realize that she wasn't mak- 
 ing herself agreeable to this stranger. " You never could 
 imagine how very pleasant Dr. Burgess makes every- 
 thing. When we first reach a place, we take a drive so 
 as to get the main points of the city in our heads, the 
 doctor calls it orienting ourselves. He's perfectly lovely, 
 knows everything, and is that patient and kind. He's very 
 amusing, too, though being a clergyman, he isn't, of 
 course, so funny as Mr. Cotton. He's simply killing. 
 We all nearly die laughing when he gets to training as 
 my cousin Addie calls it telling funny stories, you 
 know." 
 
 Her fat arms, bare to the elbow, rested on the table. 
 She smiled confidingly. Erica, in the shock of surprise 
 with which she learned that Mr. Cotton was traveling 
 with Burgess (which she should have guessed) hesitated 
 a moment. Then she remarked cynically : " Cotton's cer- 
 tainly amusing to look at."
 
 70 FIREWEED 
 
 " Oh, then you have seen him ? " Mrs. Miles exclaimed. 
 " Yes, Mrs. Manners, indeed he is tall and spare, Mr. 
 Cotton is, but you know Miles and I have always felt 
 as if it suited him. And all the others of the party seem 
 to feel just the same. We all fairly worship him. He's 
 really the kindest hearted man I ever came across, and 
 Miles, if I do say it, is something wonderful that way. 
 And on shipboard " 
 
 She paused suddenly. 
 
 " Well, isn't that queer. There's Nancy, his daugh- 
 ter, now. I must go speak to her. Excuse me, Mrs. 
 Manners for being abrupt, but Nancy is so delicate and 
 sort of spiritual that we women even the girls, too, 
 for that matter just vie with one another in mothering 
 her. Well, good-by for now." 
 
 " Forever, you fat old fool ! " Erica murmured to her- 
 self. 
 
 She glanced with some curiosity towards the newcomer. 
 And what had started as a sigh of relief at being rid 
 of Mrs. Miles's company changed involuntarily to a deep 
 breath almost of incredulity as her eyes fell upon Caleb 
 Cotton's daughter. There was truly something about the 
 girl to give one pause; and Erica Manners, thoroughly 
 selfish and worldly as she was, was sensitive to the appeal 
 of the things that are more excellent. Now she did not 
 lose one detail of the girl's loveliness, her sweet face 
 with its pure outline, her soft, madonna hair, her simple 
 attractive gown, her gentleness, her singular grace, her 
 girlish modesty and pretty deference to the older woman 
 a sort of modesty long out of fashion and largely out 
 of existence. She was near enough to catch the tones of 
 her sweet young voice, too, though she heard no words ; 
 for the garden was filled, on a sudden, with the chatter of 
 the remaining women of the party who poured in, evi- 
 dently just back from some excursion.
 
 FIRE WEED 71 
 
 Stokes or his sister must have suggested the image, 
 for as she took flight, Erica too, thought of Virginia along 
 with a little Saint Catherine of Botticelli's. But when 
 she joined Miss Lancaster, who had waked at length, she 
 referred to Miss Cotton as exactly the sort of bread-and- 
 butter miss one might have expected Cotton's daughter 
 to be. 
 
 " The surprising part is that she's really pretty, though 
 in a Sunday school book fashion," she owned. " It makes 
 one think of ' Look where the youngest wren of nine 
 comes,' you know, Libby. Well, the womanly woman's 
 bad enough, Lord knows, but the maidenly maiden's cer- 
 tainly the limit." 
 
 " I confess Miss Cotton seemed rather attractive to me 
 this morning," Miss Lancaster plucked up spirit to 
 remark. 
 
 " What ! " cried Erica. 
 
 " She came in to see me," observed Miss Lancaster, 
 endeavoring vainly to be nonchalant. 
 
 " Libby Lancaster ! What in hell do you mean, any- 
 how ? " demanded Mrs. Manners in strange excitement. 
 "Who came to see you?" 
 
 "Miss Cotton." 
 
 " Elizabeth Lancaster ! " cried Erica reproachfully. 
 
 " I couldn't help it, Erica, upon my word I couldn't," 
 declared Miss Lancaster. " It seems she Miss Nancy, 
 knew the doctor I believe he had been called in to 
 give her a tonic or something. I suppose he must have 
 told her about me, and that I was alone and rather 
 wretched." 
 
 Miss Lancaster's voice had become plaintive. Erica's 
 indignation increased. Probably missy would have told 
 " pappy " how she neglected her companion. 
 
 " The doctor knew you were better alone, Libby," she 
 said severely.
 
 72 FIREWEED 
 
 Miss Lancaster maintained a meek silence. Reaching 
 over, she diplomatically adjusted the cushion under her 
 foot, catching her breath, as if in involuntary pain, as she 
 did so. 
 
 Mrs. Manners was unaffected. But she was not one 
 to stand on ceremony. 
 
 " Well, tell me about it, can't you ? " she ordered irri- 
 tably, " though I must say, Libby, I consider it rather 
 indecent of you to foregather with Caleb Cotton's 
 daughter." 
 
 " Erica, upon my sacred word, I couldn't help it. I 
 didn't know she was within three thousand miles of us, 
 nor her father either. She knocked and came right in. 
 Of course she's childish and unsophisticated, but her chat- 
 ter helped me to forget the pain." 
 
 " Nonsense, Libby, there isn't any pain now," Erica 
 declared. " There can't be." 
 
 " Oh, but Erica, there is indeed," insisted the other 
 with mild obstinacy, and shut her eyes as if a sudden 
 twinge stabbed her at that very instant. As a matter of 
 fact, she had had no pain for the past two days, but she 
 felt obliged to keep up the fiction until she believed it 
 wise to use the foot. 
 
 " Humph ! " Mrs. Manners shrugged her shoulders 
 gracefully. " Well, what did missy chatter about ? Did 
 she mention her esteemed father?" 
 
 " Once or twice. Oh, Erica," she smiled grimly 
 " What do you think ! She calls him pappy ! " 
 
 " I know. Pappy Cottontail. Hoosier, I suppose," 
 said Erica dryly. 
 
 " Buell, Indiana," said Miss Lancaster trying to repro- 
 duce Mrs. Holbrook's manner. 
 
 Erica crossed the room quickly to look at an engraving 
 that hung between the further windows. She thought it 
 was Marie-Antoinette, and her quick mind already antici-
 
 FIREWEED 73 
 
 pated mentioning the fact of the picture to Cotton, wherr 
 she discovered it to be the (supposed) Countess Potocka, 
 
 " What else, Libby ? " she demanded crossly as she 
 returned. 
 
 " She talked a lot about a Miss Melendy, and spoke of 
 a Mrs. Miles who is an old, old friend of pappy's. She 
 offered to read to me, but I didn't feel strong enough for 
 that." 
 
 " Good Lord, you haven't been ill, Libby ! What's got 
 into you! Spraining one's ankle is nothing at all after 
 the first few hours. You mustn't let yourself go like 
 that. It's arrant nonsense." 
 
 Miss Lancaster's voice was her only protest. It be- 
 came feeble and plaintive. 
 
 " She sang to me," she added mildly. " Her voice was 
 so sweet that I felt as if she must sing, and asked her. 
 She blushed all over ; but when I told her that if she would 
 sing, I could close my eyes and perhaps get a little sleep 
 I have lost a lot, Erica she gave in at once. She 
 sang for well, I should say over half an hour. I'm not 
 sure, for to my surprise, I did get a bit of sleep, and when 
 I opened my eyes she had stolen out." 
 
 " She needn't have stolen," remarked Erica dryly, " a 
 fife and drum corps wouldn't have disturbed you." 
 
 " I dare say I did sleep heavily for the few minutes I 
 lost myself," the other acknowledged. " I was quite worn 
 out. It did me good, though I feel a little weak from it. 
 You hardly understand, Erica, that all this has been a 
 shock to my nerves." 
 
 As Erica smiled provokingly, showing a single dimple 
 that rarely appeared, a man servant knocked and entered 
 to lay the table for lunch. 
 
 Over the salad, Mrs. Manners inquired as to Miss Cot- 
 ton's voice. 
 
 " Rather sweet and true," responded Miss Lancaster,
 
 74 FIREWEED 
 
 who pretended to have a better ear than she possessed. 
 " Of course her voice hasn't been trained. But if it had, 
 I should have been the loser, for she wouldn't have been 
 allowed to sing all that time. Her repertoire belongs to 
 the dark ages, but " 
 
 It came suddenly to Elizabeth Lancaster that the songs 
 Miss Cotton had sung, which had really charmed her, 
 were exactly what her father and mother would have 
 enjoyed. But she never mentioned her parents to her 
 wealthy patrons, and most of them supposed her to be 
 alone in the world. 
 
 "Such as?" 
 
 " Let me see. Oh, Bonnie Doon, and Put Me in My 
 Little Bed fancy ! and " 
 
 " Gospel Hymns ? " suggested Erica as she rang for 
 sweets. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," returned Miss Lancaster vaguely 
 as if she hardly knew what Mrs. Manners meant. As a 
 matter of fact, she had herself sung Gospel Hymns at the 
 weekly prayer meeting every Friday evening of her girl- 
 hood. 
 
 Erica pushed aside her plate and rose, leaving Miss 
 Lancaster to linger over her pastry. 
 
 " I'm sure I'm right glad you had such a happy, pastoral 
 morning, Libby," she declared with another shrug of her 
 shoulders, " though I fear it will be your last chance at 
 missy. Pappy will forbid her associating with us, you, 
 my dear, as well as me. It's rather singular, but Del 
 Holbrook told me that people said he hated you even 
 more than he did me." 
 
 Miss Lancaster flushed painfully and with painful ef- 
 fect. But she checked the indignant protest that rose 
 to her lips. After all, as she knew well, indignant re- 
 joinder was not for the like of her. She shrugged her 
 shoulders in a labored sort of fashion.
 
 FIREWEED 75 
 
 " I should worry," she remarked with her lumbering 
 imitation of Mrs. Manners's fluent slang. 
 
 Mrs. Manners disappeared into the next room. 
 
 "What are you going to do now, Erica?" Miss Lan- 
 caster called in to her, " get a courier ? " 
 
 " I don't know that it will be necessary," Erica returned 
 indifferently. " We didn't intend to mix with the others 
 anyhow. We'll only have to be a bit more wary to avoid 
 the Cottontails. You'll be careful after this, won't you, 
 Libby?" 
 
 She appeared on the threshold as she reached her 
 question. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Erica," responded Miss Lancaster sol- 
 emnly. " It will be simple to avoid him, too. Don't you 
 think he would be just the sort to take in all the excur- 
 sions so as to get his money's worth ? " 
 
 " Likely enough. That's damn poor cream filling you're 
 eating, Libby, Don't you want some fruit or something ? " 
 asked Erica. 
 
 " No thanks, dear. I know he's going this afternoon 
 on a bus ride they've postponed until to-day because of 
 the weather, for Miss Nancy said so. It's a regular 
 Christian Endeavor excursion, you know, Erica : Eiffel 
 Tower, Invalides, Bastille, oh, all sorts of weird 
 places." 
 
 Erica retired to her pretty chintz hung bedroom. She 
 happened to know that the Burgess party were to leave 
 the hotel at half-past three. At three she appeared before 
 the astonished Miss Lancaster dressed in an embroidered 
 fawn-colored linen she had purchased a few days before 
 and a charming little French hat, looking girlish and sin- 
 gularly attractive. 
 
 " Do you know, Libby, I feel as if it would be rather 
 a lark for you and me to go with the bunch this after- 
 noon," she proposed eagerly and rather sweetly. " Just
 
 76 FIREWEED 
 
 for once it would be sport to see the antics of the aunties 
 Mrs. Miles spoke of this morning. You could go all 
 right if I got that big strapping Jules to carry you out 
 and put you in the car. You wouldn't need to leave it, 
 you know." 
 
 " Oh, Erica, it would kill me ! " cried the horror-stricken 
 nurse in a voice which grew suddenly faint. 
 
 " On the contrary, it would do you good," Erica re- 
 joined. " You know you've got to make a start some 
 time." 
 
 " Oh, but I mustn't let my foot down yet," pleaded the 
 other, her voice yet feebler. " In three or four days 
 more, I shall be able to go about a little with care. 
 Couldn't you wait a little, Erica?" 
 
 " No, Libby, I have the inclination to go this after- 
 noon," Erica declared coldly. " Of course if you won't 
 go-" 
 
 " Erica ! " cried Miss Lancaster pitifully. " You know 
 I would if I could. But I don't dare." 
 
 " I can go alone," Mrs. Manners declared stiffly as she 
 rang for a servant. 
 
 As she waited, she changed the note she had written 
 to Dr. Burgess, so that it asked or rather demanded only 
 one seat for the afternoon. 
 
 The doctor appeared at the door himself. He was 
 extremely sorry, but the only place left in the car was not 
 good the middle place in the back seat. But perhaps 
 as she was familiar with Paris she wouldn't mind. 
 
 Mrs. Manners minded exceedingly, it appeared. Dr. 
 Burgess, quite unused to such behavior, and taken aback, 
 could only repeat that there was nothing else. 
 
 " Couldn't you change one of the others ? " she asked 
 arrogantly. 
 
 " Oh no, Mrs. Manners, I couldn't do that. I shouldn't 
 have the right," he replied, still further surprised.
 
 FIREWEED 77 
 
 Then he bethought himself. " Oh, I never thought. 
 You can have my place," he proposed kindly. " It's right 
 here in front." He indicated number 2 in the diagram 
 he took from his pocket. " I usually take it because it's 
 rather easier to point out things from there and then I 
 can direct the driver at the same time. However, I'll 
 manage very well from the place in back." 
 
 " Thank you," murmured Erica coldly, and he gave her 
 the ticket. 
 
 He had expected a formal word of regret from her. 
 When none came, believing she must nevertheless feel 
 uncomfortable at having disturbed his plan, he spoke in 
 the same reassuring way he would have answered her 
 word of compunction. 
 
 " Personally, I'm rather pleased by the change, Mrs. 
 Manners," he remarked politely, " for it puts me beside 
 Mr. Cotton, and I confess it's a treat to sit next to him. 
 Being the only two men, we usually feel constrained to 
 take opposite poles on account of helping the ladies." 
 
 Bowing courteously, he went on. All the eagerness 
 Erica had felt died out. She could have stamped her 
 foot in rage. She had had a chance to drive about for 
 two or three hours sitting next to Cotton : she had thrown 
 away the only opportunity she was likely ever to get to 
 speak to him personally. For even if he continued with 
 the party and she did not leave, he would warn Burgess 
 against any repetition of such contingency. She might 
 oh, she might have entered that wedge ! She could at 
 least have shown him enough of her real self so that he 
 would have felt that he had misunderstood her. 
 
 More than once she exclaimed to Miss Lancaster over 
 the narrow escape she had had. But she was so irritable 
 for the remaining quarter hour, that the latter was thank- 
 ful when she left the room to join the others below.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " OH, you see, Cotton, it was this way," Dr. Burgess 
 was explaining, " I exchanged places at the last minute 
 with our new member, Mrs. Manners. It would have 
 been a pity not to allow her a good seat on her first outing 
 with us. I will introduce her to you presently. I hope 
 she may prove rather a charming addition to our group." 
 
 Caleb Cotton pursed his lips; but it was not because, 
 despite the doctor's good will, his words were rather 
 belied by the doubtfully hopeful tone of his voice. 
 
 " As it happens, I met Mrs. Manners this very morning 
 in the Carnavalet, and spoke with her," he returned, then 
 added in his honest way : " The fact is, I knew of her 
 before. She comes from our home, from St. Vincent, 
 that is to say." 
 
 "Well, isn't that singular! And to think she should 
 have fallen in with us ! " exclaimed Dr. Burgess with 
 genuine gratification. " Old friends, I take it ? " 
 
 " Hardly, doctor. In fact we're not friends at all. 
 We could scarcely be called acquaintances. I know more 
 or less about her, and she knows who I am ; but we belong 
 to different neighborhoods. Mrs. Manners moves among 
 the most fashionable people of the city, is, indeed, one 
 of their leaders." 
 
 Dr. Burgess's good gray eyes narrowed. In a certain 
 way, he was a handsome man, tall, large without being 
 stout, with a pleasant, florid face relieved by thick snow- 
 white hair and a white moustache, and an easy, genial, 
 
 78
 
 FIREWEED 79 
 
 rather clerical manner. He wondered at the lawyer's 
 rather dry account of acquaintanceship between himself 
 and this lady who wasn't, despite her extreme sophistica- 
 tion, anything like the equal of Mr. Cotton. Dr. Burgess, 
 in common with his whole party, had realized their singu- 
 lar fortune in numbering among their ranks a man of his 
 breadth of mind, originality of personality and trans- 
 parent nobility of character. It would have seemed to 
 him that such an one, being an eminent lawyer into the 
 bargain, must have been the social peer of any in even a 
 larger city than St. Vincent. 
 
 " If I had had any idea that you knew her " he 
 began apologetically. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right, doctor. Mrs. Manners won't 
 trouble me any, and if I find that I trouble her, why, 
 time enough then to see what we can do. Being she has 
 a lame nurse on her hands, she's rather more encumbered 
 than Nanny and I. But don't get worked up now, my 
 friend." 
 
 " May I ask where her husband is ? " Dr. Burgess 
 questioned. 
 
 " Mr. Manners died on the evening of the sixteenth 
 May of the present year," the other responded in his 
 quaintly accurate way. 
 
 " What ! This very May ! Do you know, I sort of 
 concluded in my secret heart she might be what they call 
 a grass widow. She said nothing of her husband when 
 she came to me first. Mrs. Miles thought she wasn't old 
 enough to have lost her husband and be through the usual 
 period of mourning." 
 
 He hesitated. " No doubt her husband disapproved of 
 the custom of wearing black. I believe I disapprove 
 myself," he added. 
 
 " It's a relic of barbarity," said Cotton. " In this case, 
 however, well, doctor, the fact is Mrs. Manners's mar-
 
 8o FIREWEED 
 
 ried life wasn't so satisfactory as to make her feel her 
 loss greatly, and I suppose " 
 
 On a sudden his face lighted radiantly. 
 
 "Hullo! What's this!" he exclaimed. "George 
 Washington, as I live ! " 
 
 His head was bared at once. Dr. Burgess had the car 
 stopped. Only Cotton alighted and went back. He did 
 not keep them long, but returned to his seat full of enthu- 
 siasm over the right pretty action of the French ladies in 
 erecting the statue. And he drew the familiar little red 
 memoranda from his pocket and made a note as to its 
 exact location. By this time all the party understood 
 that he always came back to any shrine he recorded thus, 
 often more than once. It would be like him to revisit 
 this one by moonlight to-night. 
 
 Mrs. Manners didn't turn her head to ascertain the 
 cause of their delay. But late in the afternoon when 
 she happened upon Cotton, he had the little red book in 
 his hand. She had endured the circuitous drive, sulky 
 and bored, replying only in rude monosyllables to the 
 polite advances of Maude Griffiths, the pretty school 
 teacher who had the place next her. She had not left 
 the car until now, though it had stopped again and again. 
 But when she had learned that it was to wait half an 
 hour before the Hotel des Invalides, she alighted and an- 
 nounced to Maude Griffiths, very much as if the latter 
 had been a servant, that she intended to take a cab and 
 return to the Royal. 
 
 Seeing none, Erica strolled about rather aimlessly and 
 presently found herself under the dome of the Tomb of 
 Napoleon. Retiring to the shadow of the further wall, 
 she stood idly gazing upon the thin stream of tourists 
 winding through and looking morbidly down upon the 
 sarcophagus. As she recognized the fat Miles woman 
 among them, she shrank further into her background.
 
 FIREWEED 81 
 
 But she knew the moment when Dr. Burgess and a half 
 dozen women passed through the further door ; and pos- 
 sibly she was not wholly surprised to see that there was 
 only one other person in the room except herself. Caleb 
 Cotton occupied the center of the place, hanging over 
 the marble balustrade. 
 
 Erica did not move, but stared at him critically. It 
 seemed long ago, far in the past, somehow, that she had 
 talked with him in the Carnavalet. 
 
 The sun was westering, the shadows strong and the 
 light dramatically effective. It seemed to concentrate 
 upon Cotton's figure, and truly it could never have 
 fallen upon a more singular one. It was awkward to 
 the extreme, typically Yankee (or was it Hoosier?) as 
 he leaned far over, with conspicuous elbows and the inev- 
 itable Panama hat tucked under his arm. 
 
 He wore the same dark-gray suit with sack coat, and 
 an undress shirt with blue stripes. The gray tint matched 
 his hair and the blue stripe brought out the blue of his 
 eyes, effecting an accidental charm which came back to 
 Erica now when she saw his face only in shadow. The 
 stuff of his suit was good, but she knew by the way 
 it hung from his gaunt figure that he had got it ready- 
 made, and she tried to despise him for it. She had a 
 great mind to answer one of Stokes's letters which 
 were legion already just for the sake of telling him 
 that, because of the firm, he ought not to have allowed 
 Cotton to go abroad without interviewing a tailor. 
 
 By moving a little, she could see his face. Good 
 heavens ! what a sentimentalist the man was ! You might 
 have thought from his expression that Napoleon was an 
 angel or Cotton's father, no, his son ! How could 
 he care that way ? But he was obviously sincere, he 
 wasn't clever enough to assume anything he did not feel. 
 And Erica was herself so tired, so bored, that she envied
 
 82 FIREWEED 
 
 that power of the hero-worshiper of so losing himself in 
 contemplation of the object of his admiration. 
 
 Moments passed. Erica stood irresolute. Some one 
 would of course come back to look for Cotton. He would 
 moon there all day otherwise. And if it were one of 
 the women, be sure she would spy Erica out and be full 
 of curiosity. As she moved to go, she saw by the grasp 
 of his hand on the Panama hat that he was about to 
 follow the others. Turning, he saw her, and started 
 ahead to open the door for her, standing back to allow 
 her to pass through. Erica wanted to speak, but for the 
 first time within her remembrance was at a loss for a 
 remark. 
 
 " I don't suppose you believe that he only got what was 
 coming to him, Napoleon, I mean," she queried in a 
 flippant tone that fell strangely, even to her own ears, 
 upon the intense quiet, and jarred painfully upon the 
 solemn mood that was upon Caleb Cotton. Insensibly 
 he frowned deeply as if he had suffered a sudden stab 
 of pain. 
 
 He let the door go to. For a little, he gazed at the 
 shaft of yellow light streaming through the window. 
 Then he spoke, with his wonted scrupulous regard for 
 the question. 
 
 " Yes'm, I reckon it was only that only his come- 
 uppings," he acknowledged in a troubled tone, as if Napo- 
 leon had been a client of his. " But he had the world 
 against him, the whole wide world, and he was 
 well, he was mighty plucky, anyhow." 
 
 Erica shrugged her shoulders. Her lip curled. She 
 didn't want to go; but she gained a certain satisfaction 
 out of the realization that it was he who was keeping her. 
 
 " And consider," he begged her, " that before he lay 
 yonder, he had been six years a prisoner at St. Helena. 
 As you say, ma'am, he brought it upon himself ; but
 
 FIREWEED 83 
 
 for that fiery spirit, that eagle of the crags, to be caged 
 for six years ! I grant you he was ambitious, over- 
 ambitious. I am afraid that he was passing selfish, 
 but " 
 
 He moved to get away from the swinging door and so 
 stood nearer her, and his voice fell low, so that any one 
 observing them, Erica felt, would take them for friends. 
 
 " I used to wake from sound sleep at the dead of 
 night when I was a lad, just choking with the burden of 
 his fate," he confessed, very much indeed, as he might 
 have spoken to a friend, " eating his heart out in idleness 
 and exile and longing, for six dreary years. And he was 
 only in the early fifties when his whole career was over, 
 an extinguisher shut down over the burning flame of his 
 life when he was only six years older than what I am 
 now." 
 
 " But you don't look so old as that," Erica declared 
 impulsively. She bit her lip and colored, but he did not 
 notice any confusion. 
 
 "Do you think so," he said ingenuously. (She knew 
 by now that he avoided using her name.) "Well, now, 
 I hardly know with my gray hairs and wrinkles ? I 
 shaved off my whiskers when I came East, like enough 
 it's that. So far as I recollect, people have mostly added 
 years to my age in the room of taking any off." 
 
 He drew forth the little red book, and Erica wondered 
 if he was about to record the compliment. 
 
 " Red Finland granite," he said aloud, politely indicat- 
 ing his preoccupation. " Given by the Emperor Nich- 
 olas I. of Russia. I must tell my daughter that. But I 
 must bring her here. She must see the flags. No one 
 would believe they could be so impressive, just battle- 
 worn, ragged tarleton, and yet " 
 
 Again and more deeply Erica envied his caring so 
 deeply for old, unhappy, far-off things. Bwt why he
 
 84 FIREWEED 
 
 should take them personally, and living persons, herself, 
 quite impersonally, she couldn't understand. A certain 
 past they had in common meant nothing at all to him. He 
 didn't have interest enough in it to have it in mind. He 
 didn't care whether she had been right or wrong, good 
 or bad. He rambled on in his easy, unconventional, 
 countrified fashion when he met her just as he would 
 have talked with the guard if he could speak French. 
 He was never aware whom he was addressing. He was 
 thinking aloud. 
 
 " Of course," he remarked as he replaced the little 
 book carefully in his breast pocket, " it was an handsome 
 thing for Nicholas to do ; and yet, it doesn't to my mind 
 compare with that old slab taken from his grave in St. 
 Helena. You have seen that, I dare say ? " 
 
 Erica shocked him visibly when she said she didn't 
 remember. She didn't shock him purposely. When he 
 asked her a question, she felt as if she were being cross- 
 examined under oath and answered like a scared school- 
 girl. 
 
 He held the door open for her and followed her in. 
 They stood together before the worn, gray, truly eloquent 
 stone. Erica, looking down upon it, was touched in spite 
 of herself; but it must have been because she couldn't 
 help feeling how very deeply he was moved by it. 
 She saw him reach out his hand almost shyly, and lay 
 it gently on the monument; but he said nothing. Pres- 
 ently he turned to gaze upon the death mask; and she, 
 without prompting, saw in the sad, worn face something 
 of majesty and nobility. 
 
 " If he could come back at this moment " he was 
 looking strangely at the dead face, an expression that was 
 almost a smile upon his own "I reckon it would have 
 been another story," he said softly. " He had revised 
 his judgments already, it would seem."
 
 FIREWEED 85 
 
 As he turned to her, truly one who had seen them 
 would have taken them for good friends. 
 
 " It was a kindly thought, saving that expression, so 
 that the harshest judge of posterity could scarcely be 
 without charity for the dead," he said in that same gently 
 impersonal way. " I wonder perhaps it might be 
 worth while to do some such thing in case of lesser folk. 
 It might comfort those left behind and strengthen their 
 faith. I have seen in my day many a beautiful look on 
 the faces of the dead peace and contentment and true 
 nobility. Once a friend of mine was an hard drinker. 
 He fought against it to the very last, but he never con- 
 quered. Nor was he ever truly vanquished. The look 
 on that man's face after he had gone is with me yet 
 such thankfulness, I never saw, and a sort of triumph, 
 as if in death at last he had conquered." 
 
 That was really an epochal moment in Erica Manners's 
 life. In a sense, Cotton had forgotten to whom he was 
 talking; yet there must have been something in her to 
 which appeal could be made, else he had never so spoken. 
 She stood spellbound, lost in the vision, in the sense of 
 the fine and the heroic evoked by the simple, homely elo- 
 quence of this stranger. Her breath quickened. Her 
 eyelids quivered. Something strange stirred within her. 
 
 But it was for only a brief moment. She was rudely 
 recalled by the entrance of another member of the Bur- 
 gess party, a breezy young Westerner. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton," cried the girl, who had a pretty, 
 saucy manner and a piquant personality, " I've looked 
 everywhere for you. Do come. It's the Eiffel Tower, 
 and unless you're along, no one will make the ascent." 
 
 " Bless me, how the time has flown ! " he exclaimed, 
 glancing at the big silver watch he had pulled from his 
 pocket the instant she appeared. " I'm with you this 
 moment," he declared so warmly that Mrs. Manners de-
 
 86 FIREWEED 
 
 cided that he could be extremely personal. " It's right 
 good of you, Miss Melendy, to take all that trouble for 
 the like o' me." 
 
 He introduced the girl to Mrs. Manners, speaking the 
 lady's name for the first time in her presence. " Mrs. 
 Manners is now one of the Burgesses, I believe you know, 
 Miss Melendy," he added. " I dare say she, too, would 
 have been sorry to miss the Eiffel Tower." 
 
 As Erica was about to remark that it would be rather 
 a lark, the pert stranger anticipated her. 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Cotton, Mrs. Manners is tired of us 
 already, and supposed to be this minute on her way back 
 to the hotel in a taxi. Doctor was just counting noses, 
 and Maude told him that. We thought you might have 
 gone with her, but we knew you'd be back. We didn't 
 have to count to know that you were missing, sir ! " 
 
 He laughed. " Six feet four can't be hidden," he re- 
 marked dryly, and asked Mrs. Manners if he might get 
 her a cab. 
 
 Erica was angry with herself for having told Miss 
 Griffiths of her plan and thus precluded changing her 
 mind; but she was more irritated at this girl's inoppor- 
 tune appearance, at her pertness and assurance, and at 
 Cotton's readiness to get rid of her. Refusing his offer 
 curtly, she watched the two go off together, remarking 
 perforce that despite his exceeding awkwardness, the 
 finest gentleman she had ever seen wasn't more truly 
 courteous than Caleb Cotton. 
 
 For herself, she returned to her rooms and bullied Miss 
 Lancaster. Later in the day, regaining her ordinary 
 humor, she told her companion something of these two 
 meetings with Cotton. Of Miss Melendy, she said that 
 she was rather good-looking in a crude, bizarre fashion, 
 that she dressed absurdly, burred her r's outrageously, 
 and was on the whole rather a gawk.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE Burgess party were leaving Paris next day, Mrs. 
 Manners and her companion traveling first class, the 
 others second. Erica sat alone in the little graveled 
 garden. It was early and the midday heat intense; but 
 apparently every one was making the most of the last 
 afternoon, even Miss Lancaster being out with Miss 
 Cameron and Miss Budd. 
 
 Erica's face seemed to have grown sharp within the 
 past fortnight; and there was a shadow as of ill-nature 
 upon it that was new to it. For up to the time she had 
 brought the libel against her husband, Erica had been 
 almost uniformly good humored cynically, carelessly 
 so, indeed, yet truly so. Caustic of tongue, fond of irony, 
 not gentle nor generous nor considerate, she had pre- 
 served, nevertheless, enough of the gay good temper of 
 childhood to sugar-coat her selfishness, and render her a 
 charming companion. Hardened as she was, however, 
 the death of her husband had nevertheless been a shock 
 to her. Her irritability had increased progressively and 
 at this time she was on the very verge of shrewishness. 
 During the fortnight she had been a member of the 
 Burgess party, little as she had mingled with the others, 
 she had made herself as disagreeable as only a thoroughly 
 spoiled and utterly selfish person, with such an increment 
 of irritability, can be; and she had so constantly bullied 
 Miss Lancaster that that long-suffering creature had all 
 but wished herself back in the United States working 
 hard at a bona fide case. 
 
 87
 
 88 FIREWEED 
 
 It was cooler in her pretty chintz bedroom with the 
 great casements than here in the garden. But Erica had 
 felt she could not endure being alone inside another 
 moment. Now, however, a greater weariness yet 
 swooped down upon her. She bowed her head in her 
 hand with a gesture of utter despair. Then she raised 
 it quickly. Never again could she assume that pose 
 without remembering Alex as he had sat in the court- 
 room with his blue-white, melancholy face. 
 
 How could she ever go on like this, bored to death 
 from morning to night; aching, restless, nearly mad from 
 night to morning? Why, in heaven's name, should she 
 drag herself over Europe when there was nothing on the 
 continent that she cared twopence to see? And yet 
 what was there to do otherwise ? She couldn't go home : 
 she couldn't yet endure all the sickening associations of 
 that nightmare trial. Neither did she care to stay in 
 Paris nor return to England. There was nothing for her 
 in the old world nor the new. 
 
 Still, she didn't want to die. Good God ! she was only 
 twenty-eight, and she had hardly begun to live. Some- 
 thing would happen. Something must happen. She sup- 
 posed it must have been the shock of seeing Cotton that 
 had brought everything back and was behind this nervous 
 wretchedness. It would pass, and she would be herself 
 again, restless still, as always, but not so damned restless. 
 
 It would have been better if she had not had the ill 
 luck to stumble upon Caleb Cotton ; but since that had hap- 
 pened, it would have been better if she could have seen 
 more of him. Erica felt that if she could have carried 
 out her purpose of explaining certain things to him, she 
 would now be easier in mind. But the man had avoided 
 her. Apparently he was afraid of her. It might be, of 
 course, that he believed her quite too wicked for the 
 like of him and his angel daughter; but Erica believed
 
 FIREWEED 89 
 
 that he feared to be forced to acknowledge that he had 
 wronged her. He acted as if he were bound not to come 
 in contact with any extenuating circumstances. 
 
 Nevertheless, she would force him to, she cried out, 
 clenching her hands. She could only rid herself of this 
 terrible obsession of weariness and restlessness by setting 
 herself right with him. But that having been accom- 
 plished, she did not care if she never saw him again. 
 
 Erica leaned back in her chair and drew a long breath. 
 She said to herself she would manage to see him very 
 soon, and then she wondered where he was to-day. Prob- 
 ably he would be revisiting some shrine or another, sen- 
 timentalizing over some dead-and-gone sinner. One 
 might conclude from his attitude towards Marie-Antoi- 
 nette and Napoleon that he had started in quest of those 
 who had gone wrong through ambition, in order to shed 
 tears over their fate their just deserts, when all was 
 said. Why should he so go out of his way to be char- 
 itable to them, and yet oh, he would say, of course, 
 that they had suffered. Good God! and hadn't she suf- 
 fered? 
 
 Ah, but that wasn't all to his mind. He had reit- 
 erated his jargon about learning one's lesson. Erica won- 
 dered just what he meant. The words themselves were 
 plain enough; but somehow, he had interpretations of 
 his own. Or was he so painfully honest that he went 
 to the very roots of words just as he did of things and 
 used them in their exact meanings, which made him speak 
 another language from other people Erica Manners 
 among them? 
 
 On a sudden it came to her that she would go back to 
 the Carnavalet and look again at the sketch of La Veuve 
 Capet hanging over the poor bed. Perhaps she might 
 gain inspiration from the sad portrait. Inspiration for 
 what, pray? she demanded of herself. Did she, Erica
 
 go FIREWEED 
 
 Ericson Manners, want to know the secret of Marie- 
 Antoinette's life lesson that she might con her own? 
 Nonsense ! she wasn't so low as that. It was only that 
 she had to do something to pass this terribly long after- 
 noon, lest she go mad, and it might as well be that means 
 as another. 
 
 On her way to her room to get her hat, gloves and 
 sunshade, she ordered a motor cab. With all her swift- 
 ness, it was ready when she got to the door, and she 
 experienced a novel sense of gratification as she was 
 whirled and trundled through the hot streets. She won- 
 dered why she had not returned to the Musee before. 
 An odd little dimple that hardly appeared twice a year 
 twinkled in her thin cheek as she realized that she was 
 rejoicing in what she had characterized as the height of 
 banality in others visiting this shrine or that as a last 
 rite before leaving Paris. 
 
 Turning into the rue de Sevigne, Erica's heart grew 
 cold as she saw Caleb Cotton and his daughter coming 
 from the gallery deep in conversation, the girl hanging 
 on his arm in true eighteenth century fashion. Had she 
 been ten, even five minutes earlier, she might have caught 
 them inside. 
 
 Her own zest was completely gone; but she hoped if 
 she dragged herself upstairs she might revive a portion 
 of it. Instead, she experienced another emotion. Fierce 
 anger seized her as she found the Musee closed. 
 
 She might have known! Cotton wouldn't be coming 
 away unless he had been driven. Raging at the stupidity 
 of closing a public gallery at this hour of the afternoon, 
 Erica berated the chauffeur in good idiomatic French for 
 not warning her. The man shrugged his shoulders and 
 made irrelevant remarks, and considered himself for- 
 tunate in being ordered to drive his fare back to the hotel 
 in the rue St. Honore.
 
 FIREWEED 91 
 
 Erica's anger was not cooled by the fact that Miss 
 Lancaster was still absent. Determined that when she 
 should come, she should not linger in the garden for tea 
 and gossip as she was likely to do, she went out so as to 
 be at hand to intercept her. 
 
 Without warning, she came upon Nancy Cotton who 
 had come to the garden to wait for Miss Melendy. Nancy 
 had avoided Mrs. Manners more sedulously and more 
 conspicuously than her father had done ; and on a sudden, 
 at sight of her, Erica's anger became savage. She had an 
 irresistible impulse to punish the self-righteous little chit. 
 
 " Won't you come over here, Miss Cotton," she asked 
 in a tone that made it a command. " I want to sit near 
 the entrance in order to catch my companion." 
 
 Nancy complied politely, and even in her rage Erica 
 acknowledged the flawlessness of her type. She was not 
 handsome, not beautiful hardly but for her particu- 
 lar type, she was perfect. There wasn't a blemish. Even 
 her clothes didn't belie her. Her white frock suited her 
 as if it had been made for her at the best shop in Paris, 
 or as if it had been designed for a character on the stage 
 who represented just what this girl was. How could it 
 be? Had the girl such natural grace that she carried off 
 anything and everything? And she the daughter of a 
 man who was, when all was said, a blob ! 
 
 "Are you as sentimental about leaving Paris, Miss 
 Cotton, as the others seem to be ? " she inquired care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " It will be nice to see Switzerland and Italy," Nancy 
 returned evasively. 
 
 Erica caught the undertone of resignation or pain in 
 the sweet young voice; but she only fixed the girl more 
 coldly with her critical gaze. 
 
 " You like traveling with a party?" she almost sneered. 
 
 Nancy was partly shaded by the little fig tree, her
 
 92 FIREWEED 
 
 white gown dappled with shadows of leaves, her pale 
 brown hair turning to gold in the sunlight. As she smiled 
 wanly, she might have suggested images she was con- 
 stantly suggesting to others as they moved among asso- 
 ciations of the romantic past; but her purity and inno- 
 cence, enhanced by that mysterious but unmistakable sad- 
 ness, only irritated Mrs. Manners further. 
 
 " I like it ever so much, Mrs. Manners, they are all so 
 very nice," Nancy returned with something of her father's 
 scrupulous regard for detail. 
 
 What forced enthusiasm! Erica decided that the girl 
 was as bored as she herself was, only smothered in her 
 own virtue. Little Nanny didn't care twopence for Italy 
 or Switzerland or the Greek Archipelago ! 
 
 " You really think so !" she remarked. " Surely, Miss 
 Cotton, you don't include that impossible Mrs. Miles? 
 Can you stand her ? " 
 
 Nancy flushed sensitively. Her soft brown eyes opened 
 very wide. Erica was amused to perceive that the girl 
 thought she had blundered. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners, we like Mrs. Miles particularly, 
 pap my father and I ! " she cried. " She's our old 
 friend and comes from our dear old home back in In- 
 diana. She talks and is just like all the home people. 
 And, oh, she's right sweet." 
 
 As the girl ceased, she clasped her thin hands over her 
 knees. A tinge of color lingered in her cheeks ; but her 
 eyes were soft and appealing. 
 
 " As for me," drawled Erica and her words were 
 like impaling a butterfly for sport "I could perhaps 
 put up with everything else if she weren't so blooming 
 fat under her ears. Have you noticed how her funny 
 little lobes are propped straight out at right angles by 
 the plumpness underneath? They're like little corner 
 brackets, don't you know ? "
 
 FIREWEED 93 
 
 Shocked and pained beyond expression, Nancy threw 
 a quick, helpless glance about her to see if there were any 
 relief in sight. Erica read the glance and decided to 
 punish the girl further for it. If any one had asked her 
 at the moment why, in the name of common sense, if she 
 truly desired to correct the unfavorable impression she 
 had made upon the father, she should thus deliberately 
 wound and outrage the daughter, she could not have 
 answered. It was probably because she had always 
 yielded to her every impulse and whim, and her impulse 
 at this moment to get even with the girl before her made 
 her oblivious of all else. 
 
 " However, it's mighty fortunate it's no worse. Sup- 
 pose, for instance, her ears were as large as Miss Wil- 
 liams's ? " she went on. " Did you ever see such enor- 
 mous ears as that woman has regular flappers ! I 
 don't see how she gets lappets big enough to cover them 
 in winter, and yet she couldn't leave all that surface 
 exposed. Poor old thing ! it's rather hard that she should 
 have crooked teeth into the bargain ! " 
 
 While she rattled on, Erica Manners was conscious of 
 immense relief. In truth, she disburdened herself of an 
 accumulation of pent-up irritation; and she hardly knew 
 how her savage mood welcomed this priggish girl's sen- 
 sibility to play on in place of Miss Lancaster's hypocrisy. 
 She went on almost gleefully, holding the members of the 
 party up to ridicule, one by one, giving Nancy no oppor- 
 tunity whatever to protest or defend. 
 
 What she did wasn't at all difficult; it wouldn't have 
 taxed the ingenuity of a far less clever person than she. 
 Furthermore, it would have puzzled her to say why she 
 should be at such pains to shock this bread-and-butter 
 miss, who had, most likely, only obeyed orders in fighting 
 shy of her. And truly, when Erica recalled it afterwards, 
 it seemed as if some fiend had possessed her.
 
 94 FIREWEED 
 
 After Mrs. Miles and Miss Williams, Mrs. Manners 
 attacked the others, even unoffending little Mrs. Bur- 
 gess, whom she had scarcely seen. She shot her pointed 
 arrows at them all, and the missiles lodged in Nancy Cot- 
 ton's gentle heart. And yet, all that went before was as 
 nothing when Erica finally came to Miss Melendy. She 
 spoke with such heat almost venom, it was that 
 Nancy scarcely endured the onslaught. 
 
 " It's all so pitifully absurd, too," Erica concluded. 
 " What with her dickeys and cravats and waistcoats 
 and all her sham masculine flummery, and yet at 
 the same time to be making eyes at the men and phil- 
 andering as she does. It only marks her out the 
 more clearly for just what she is a lovesick young 
 woman ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners, I must think you are wrong ter- 
 ribly wrong ! " cried Nancy with mantling cheeks and 
 mournfully incredulous eyes. " It's no such thing ! Par- 
 don me, but truly, it is not so not in the least. Why 
 every one just loves Hank. The party wouldn't be the 
 same at all without her. Father admires her like he 
 never cared for any of my friends before, and besides he 
 likes her as well as if she were as old as he. Of course, 
 she is rather a Tom-boy, but every one likes it in Hank. 
 Pap father does. He'd have liked me to be a Tom- 
 boy, but I have always been more like his mother, so old 
 and quiet, you know. But she Miss Melendy, can talk 
 horses and fishing with him, and can drive a pair and 
 milk a cow, and oh, she has even traded horses just 
 like pa my father. And one night " 
 
 Nancy stopped short, not because it was an unusually 
 long speech for her the longest, certainly within the 
 year but because she heard the clock strike the hour 
 at which Miss Melendy was to meet her in the garden. 
 And in truth Hank entered with the last stroke.
 
 FIREWEED 95 
 
 She came straight to Nancy and read much of the 
 record in the girl's flushed, distressed face. 
 
 " Afternoon, Mrs. Manners," she said curtly, then 
 turned to Nancy. 
 
 " Here we are, honey, what's left of us," she remarked, 
 perching on the arm of the chair next Nancy's with her 
 stout, laced boys' boots braced firmly on the gravel. 
 
 " Such larks you never heard," she went on, " do listen 
 while I tell you, honey-bunch." 
 
 Mrs. Manners continued to fix her with a critical, 
 haughty stare, but Miss Melendy was apparently unaware 
 of her presence and rattled away. Even though she were 
 a bit absurd, as Mrs. Manners had pronounced her, Miss 
 Melendy was truly a piquant figure. And even though 
 her masculine fashion of attire were a bit forced, it 
 wasn't ungraceful nor unbecoming. To-day she wore 
 a white linen suit, the loose Norfolk jacket of which 
 abounded in pockets (some of which rather bulged), a 
 white shirt with stiff collar and cuffs, a white cravat and 
 a Panama hat which resembled the one Cotton was never 
 seen without, except it was fresher and smarter. Her 
 only ornaments were a watch chain with heavy seals, a 
 scarf pin and a seal ring. 
 
 She looked very young, rather childish, indeed, or 
 boyish was slender with an healthy leanness and not 
 tall enough to be conspicuous. Her dark brown hair, 
 parted at the side and rolled into a knob at her neck, was 
 soft in texture as in shade, not quite straight and grew 
 low and attractively about her brow. Her brown eyes 
 were not large but deep, honest and indicative of reserve 
 strength. Her skin was brown with a dusky gipsy color 
 in her cheeks, and her face, round without being plump, 
 with charming boyish dimples, was so honest and fair 
 and ingenuous that the boyish costume really suited it 
 strangely. Erica Manners felt all this though against
 
 96 FIREWEED 
 
 her will; for she had conceived a violent antipathy to 
 this girl. 
 
 " Such a lark ! " repeated Miss Melendy, removing her 
 hat, which required no pins but fitted her head like a 
 man's. " We were crossing the street down yonder, the 
 bunch of us, the whole damn bunch as Dr. Burgess 
 would put it coming from the Palais Royal and headed 
 for the Louvre for last farewells of our respective 
 steadies when we discovered we had lost Mrs. Miles. 
 Your father " 
 
 Mrs. Manners rose with intentional rudeness. 
 
 " I see that my nurse has come back at last, Miss 
 Cotton," she remarked, haughtily, " and I'd best get hold 
 of her if I want any massage before dinner. She's so 
 taken up with strangers that I don't get much attention 
 myself of late." 
 
 " I trust you may get a good rub down to-night, I'm 
 sure," remarked Miss Melendy, partly to cover Nancy's 
 dumbness, partly because she disliked Mrs. Manners quite 
 as much as the latter disliked her, only less personally, 
 and was glad of a chance to " come back at her " as she 
 remarked to the younger girl afterwards. 
 
 " Good Lord ! Good riddance over and over ! " she 
 cried the moment Mrs. Manners's graceful figure dis- 
 appeared. " Isn't that woman the limit of limits ! Her 
 nurse, indeed! Her poor old toady! The only reason 
 any of us endure her is because we can't help being 
 sorry for her. She's certainly less impossible than her 
 boss." 
 
 Nancy did not mention the tirade she had just heard. 
 She and her father had agreed not to speak of Mrs. Man- 
 ners's history as they knew it; and she felt that Hank 
 was sufficiently antagonistic towards the lady as it was. 
 Neither did she say aught to her father of the terrible 
 half hour in the garden. But thereafter the girl had a
 
 FIREWEED 97 
 
 positive dread of coming in contact with the woman, 
 avoiding ever being alone in any public room or gather- 
 ing place. And the mystery of Philip Stokes's caring 
 for such an one became the deeper as it became the more 
 painful. 
 
 After Nancy had gone to her room, Miss Melendy went 
 out again. And again as she stood before the Luxem- 
 bourg Gallery and gazed upon the shivering lovers, she 
 was thinking mournfully of Nancy and her mystery. 
 Returning to the hotel, she overtook Miss Little, who had 
 been adding to her huge collection of trinkets. 
 
 " What does Little Mary think of the new member of 
 the menagerie ? " she asked. 
 
 Miss Little laughed merrily. But to-day her high color 
 was too deep for any heightening. 
 
 " About the same as she thinks of the rest of the 
 bunch, I shouldn't wonder," she returned. " She hasn't 
 much use for us; but as long as she keeps her distance, 
 it doesn't make any great difference. We can get along 
 without her royal favor. Some of us were rather wor- 
 ried for fear she might monopolize Mr. Cotton. That 
 would have been tragic, don't you know, Hank dear. But 
 she doesn't seem even to be interested in him. And he 
 never goes out of his way to speak to her, as he would 
 have to do if he wanted to. I rather wonder what doctor 
 thinks of her." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " If you ask my opinion," remarked Miss Melendy 
 emphatically, " I should say that good as the old duck is, 
 for once he's bitten off more than he can chew ! " 
 
 " Oh, Hank! " cried Miss Little, " Oh, Hank, Hank! " 
 and went laughingly on her way to her room.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ARRIVING in very midsummer, the Burgess party never- 
 theless found Florence a pleasant, breezy city where one 
 could draw a long breath after the heat of those last days 
 in Paris. The garden of the Pensione Magenta, just back 
 from the Arno on the Via Magenta, was an inviting, almost 
 a " lovesome " spot on this, the hot hour of the after- 
 noon, though it was occupied by only one person. Even 
 at the hour commonly devoted to siestas, the garden was 
 seldom so nearly deserted : for the pension was large, 
 exceedingly comfortable, and very well conducted, and 
 was commonly filled with tourists with quarters engaged 
 weeks in advance. It was only that, in the interval 
 between the departure directly after luncheon of a goodly 
 number of guests moving on to Rome or Venice and the 
 arrival of as many more to-night and on the morrow, 
 both palace and garden were wholly at the disposal of 
 the Burgess party and quiet reigned over all. 
 
 A very high wall shut the garden from the quiet street, 
 the old palace and its wings enclosing the other three 
 sides. Shutters were lowered at all the windows and the 
 only sound that came out was an occasional strain from 
 an opera in a sweet baritone from the kitchen. 
 
 At the farther end of the garden, a great orange tree, 
 trained upon a lattice close against the stone wall of one 
 of the wings, was a mass of dark, glossy green foliage 
 with great, deep-colored, pendent fruit at the top. Out- 
 lined against this pre-Raphaelite background, was the 
 
 98
 
 FIREWEED 99 
 
 figure of a slender girl in white with fawn-colored hair 
 crowning a proud little head and an air of distinction 
 about her. At once haughty and sad, the small, delicate 
 face recalled portraits in the Florentine galleries down 
 yonder, of Italian princesses in the brave days of the 
 duchies, and other high-born ladies. And though of a 
 truth it was rather restlessness and egotistic discontent 
 than sorrow which had molded these lineaments, curiously 
 enough the face was more akin to the saintly countenances 
 than to those of such princesses as had been adepts at 
 poison, and had no scruple against even more brutal 
 methods of getting rid of rivals or other burdensome 
 folk. And the little red leather volume in the motionless 
 white hands might well have been a missal or book of 
 days. 
 
 Just as a particularly fine bit of melody rang out from 
 the basement upon the quiet air, some one came through 
 the house and halted on a little balcony before descending 
 the steps into the garden, listening until the last notes 
 died away. Then, evidently assuming the place to be 
 empty, the newcomer, who had exceedingly long legs, 
 stretched his arms along the balustrade and took the 
 whole flight at one leap. 
 
 Surely there was nothing else like that lank, awkward, 
 over-tall figure, in living being, picture or statue in all 
 Italy; it should, however, have been familiar long since 
 to every member of the party in possession of the palace 
 at the present hour. None the less, Erica Manners, 
 glancing up from her book, started and opened her eyes 
 wide in wonderment. But perhaps what surprised her 
 was that she believed Caleb Cotton to be seeking her out 
 voluntarily. For they had not met since they had parted 
 at the Tomb of Napoleon. She smiled a welcome that 
 quite transfigured her face and amazed Cotton, who did 
 not see her until he had gone too far to retreat.
 
 ioo FIREWEED 
 
 She moved gracefully to offer him a place on the 
 wicker bench beside her. 
 
 " I am surely glad to see some one at last," she said with 
 charming candor, quite as if she were a genuine instead 
 of an honorary member of the party. " I have given 
 myself what my old nurse used to call the ' magrums ' 
 reading poetry out here in the deathly stillness." 
 
 Caleb Cotton seated himself deliberately. He was sur- 
 prised at her cordiality ; but he considered her a finished 
 woman of the world, and decided that, having found the 
 other members of the party agreeable to her (he consid- 
 ered them a wonderful group) she had made up her mind 
 to tolerate his presence when she found it necessary. 
 Even so, he would never have considered her capable of 
 such sweetness not only of voice, but of manner and 
 expression. 
 
 " I wonder if you care for poetry, Mr. Cotton ? " she 
 inquired gently. 
 
 " Well, yes'm, I may say that I do," he returned, imme- 
 diately yielding her what he proffered every one, his 
 whole attention and the tribute of the exact truth, the 
 best that was in him. 
 
 " You would hardly think it from my look and bearing," 
 he went on with a certain drollness that made his humility 
 charming, " but as a matter of fact, I am powerfully fond 
 of it. Many a time I have neglected my duty and had 
 to sit up till nearly morning because I had forgotten 
 everything poring over some poetry book. And to this 
 day, I glance at every poem I come across in the news- 
 papers for fear of missing something good. Now there's 
 ' Snow Bound,' I'm particularly fond of that. Do you 
 care for it ? " 
 
 " M m, rather," she responded vaguely, as if she 
 hardly understood. His very unlikeness to those with 
 whom she had formerly discussed the belles lettres,
 
 FIREWEED 101 
 
 brought back vivid memories of the trial which she had 
 for once forgotten while in his presence. But he was, 
 as usual, wholly absorbed in the present. 
 
 " And Paradise Lost ? " he added interrogatively eager. 
 " That's really what I started on, after my mother's 
 hymns and songs. When I first left home I worked for 
 a man named Haynes old Col. Haynes of Buckeye 
 County. He had what seemed to me then a power of 
 books and I had the run of them. Among them was 
 Paradise Lost, a great handsome volume with full-page 
 pictures. Not that I set any great store by the pictures, 
 the angels' wings were too skinny, according to my 
 way of thinking more like bats'; but I took to the 
 poetry and was interested in the doctrine. I got so I 
 knew whole pages by heart." 
 
 For a brief space he lost himself in retrospect, Erica 
 gazing at him the while through lowered lashes. At the 
 moment, it was borne in on her that a plain, yes, an 
 ugly face is the best medium for showing fineness of 
 expression. And it never occurred to her that she might 
 have discovered that fact from Delia Holbrook. 
 
 On a sudden he smiled or nearly smiled out of 
 his reverie. 
 
 " I'll tell you a poem I have always liked," he remarked 
 with that eagerness which is rather the reaching out for 
 intellectual sympathy than a personal appeal, " and that 
 is ' Curfew shall not ring to-night.' Don't you consider 
 that a fine poem, ma'am ? " 
 
 Erica wanted to laugh. She didn't know when she 
 had had such a natural impulse towards simple mirth 
 without bitterness or cynicism. Now she forgot who he 
 was, except that he was like a big, awkward, sweet-tem- 
 pered puppy to whom one's heart goes out in spite of 
 oneself. 
 
 " I am afraid I know only the name," she confessed 
 
 \
 
 102 FIREWEED 
 
 with an odd little pucker of her lips that indented her 
 rare dimple. " I know it was very popular at one time. 
 Ill look it up." 
 
 " You've got something before you," he declared quite 
 as if he had been speaking of a masterpiece of Brown- 
 ing's or Swinburne's. " It's certainly a stirring thing. 
 When I was a boy, the girls used to recite at church 
 sociables. Abby Manning, who is now our valued house- 
 keeper, used to give it wonderfully. I remember one 
 night in particular. She wore a red merino dress that 
 night she had brown curls hanging over her shoulders 
 and red cheeks and her eyes shone like stars. We were 
 all more or less familiar with ' Curfew,' but we didn't 
 mind that, books weren't so common in the West of 
 that time nor learning so general. Anyhow, we fellows 
 in the back seat just sat spellbound. And when Abby 
 came out with the last line flung out her arms wide and 
 came out strong with ' " Go, your lover lives," cried 
 Cromwell, " Curfew shall not ring to-night ! " ' why, we 
 didn't dass look at one another for fear of 
 
 His long lips were puckered comically. His eyes, full 
 of a droll naivete, met hers and Erica could not resist. 
 She laughed until the tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 He smiled in his big, kindly way. 
 
 " It was funny," he owned, " we great hulking lads 
 there on the back seat, our ankles and wrists outstretching 
 our pantaloons and jacket sleeves, our hair wet and slick, 
 not venturing to glance sidewise because of that slip of a 
 red-cheeked girl in scarlet merino reciting moving poetry." 
 
 " I really want to read it awfully," said Erica gently, 
 "and I like the idea of those big boys. I suppose 
 you were the tallest ? " 
 
 " Oh yes'm, and the awkwardest of the squad. The 
 reason I remember that particular evening was because 
 Charley Tuck who sat beside me was sweet on Abby,
 
 FIREWEED 103 
 
 as we used to say. He died that very year, come spring, 
 and she never married." 
 
 He glanced off into space. And afterwards looking 
 back, she understood the connection between that scene 
 and his next suggestion. 
 
 " Then there's another," he added less readily. " I 
 think most likely you know ' Backward, turn backward, 
 O Time in your flight ? ' ' Still he omitted her name, 
 yet the courtesy of his manner and the deference of his 
 really beautiful deep voice were almost equivalent to 
 " your grace," or some such fair address. 
 
 " Dear me, I've got to confess that I don't know that, 
 either," she said. 
 
 " That was my wife's favorite," he observed simply. 
 " I used to read it over and over again to her until I got 
 so I knew it by heart and could repeat it in the dark 
 when she wanted it. She was an invalid for many years, 
 and such things soothed her." 
 
 Erica looked up quickly. 
 
 " Do you know it now ? " she demanded. 
 
 "Yes'm," he said. He hesitated, then added: "In 
 fact, I said it over this morning." 
 
 Erica frowned unconsciously. For heaven's sake! 
 Did the man repeat it every morning in the year ? she asked 
 herself. Before the day closed, she was to understand 
 better. She seemed to speak her next words against her 
 will or against something, for they were sincere. 
 
 " I'd like first rate to hear it. I wish awfully you 
 felt willing to say it over," she begged. 
 
 Even at that critical moment, he did not show any 
 self consciousness. Simple, unashamed, earnest, with- 
 out excuse or preliminary, he repeated the lines in his 
 strong, sweet, vibrant voice a voice that could have 
 transformed the merest doggerel to poetry, his blue eyes 
 fixed on some far-away image.
 
 io 4 FIREWEED 
 
 Erica did not want to be pleased. She wanted to 
 please, it is true, but for ulterior purposes. She did not 
 yield without a struggle. She tried to picture to herself 
 how screamingly funny it would be to narrate to Delia 
 when she should see her with Phil Stokes in the back- 
 ground, most likely how this long-shanks Hoosier had 
 solemnly repeated " Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to 
 sleep," sitting on the bench in the Florentine garden. 
 She recalled how the three of them had laughed howled 
 to read in a recent volume of memoirs of a dinner 
 party in Ireland where a famous member of parliament 
 had risen and recited the " Wreck of the Hesperus." 
 This was still funnier. And yet, although she per- 
 ceived the humor, the utter absurdity of the situation, she 
 didn't feel it, didn't experience it. She listened in very 
 much the mood of those boys on the back bench at the 
 church sociable. And when Cotton had finished, she 
 thanked him with real gentleness. 
 
 " It is really very sweet, Mr. Cotton," she added. " I'm 
 awfully glad to learn of it." 
 
 He seemed gratified by her reception of it, but he was 
 perhaps rather moved himself. At any rate, when he 
 asked her what she was reading, it seemed by way of 
 changing the subject. 
 
 She showed him the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyham. 
 
 " I haven't looked at it for years. I was rather daffy 
 over it at one time, though," she confessed. " Of course 
 you know it ? " 
 
 " No ma'am, I have heard it quoted, but I never had it 
 in my hand to read," he said. " I ought to have said 
 that I am way behind the times. It's partly because of 
 reading over and over the things I am familiar with, and 
 partly because I meet so few people who care for poetry." 
 
 He bethought himself just as he would have said that 
 young Stokes cared for certain poets. And his face was
 
 FIREWEED 105 
 
 a shade graver as he remarked : " You would be shocked, 
 I daresay, to learn that I never read Pope's ' Essay on 
 Man ' until last Thanksgiving." 
 
 Erica, who had felt his touch of hesitation, forgot it. 
 She had to smile. 
 
 " Oh dear me, ho. Lots and lots of people haven't. 
 But you would like Omar no end better than Pope, and 
 really he holds forth on the same subject. Won't you 
 take this, please, and read it ? " 
 
 He demurred because he had found her deep in it. 
 She insisted. 
 
 " I know the most of it by heart," she declared. " Be- 
 sides, as I said, it makes me blue. It's absurd, I know, 
 but as I was reading the lines 
 
 ' And that same summer month that brings the rose 
 
 Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away,' 
 suddenly, it all seemed very sad as if one couldn't 
 have it so. I haven't the slightest idea who or what 
 Jamshyd or Kaikobad were, but I'm sorry for them." 
 
 Even as she spoke, Erica became almost sickeningly 
 aware that she had given him a chance to make a nasty 
 remark. But that was not like Caleb Cotton. He smiled 
 and said with his homely gentleness : " You're sorry to 
 have the rose oust them : I reckon it's that. That's human 
 nature. I shouldn't wonder if we all spill our tears over 
 Jamshyds and Kaikobads, and then avert our eyes as we 
 drop a copper into a beggar's cup and hurry away." 
 
 Erica's heart began to beat violently. Until within 
 these few moments, she had forgotten everything in the 
 present. Now, on a sudden, it came to her that here was 
 the opportunity heaven-sent for which she had 
 waited and longed. Now, when Caleb Cotton was so 
 kindly disposed, at a moment when she wasn't afraid of 
 him, when, too, she was in an unusual mood wherein she 
 could be truer to herself than her restlessness would often
 
 io6 FIREWEED 
 
 allow her to be, circumstances had led them, unawares, 
 to a point of beginning. Now it would be simple as 
 never before and, in all likelihood, as never again. She 
 had only to say : " See here, Mr. Cotton, after all I'm 
 not so bad as you thought me. It was like this " 
 
 Oh, but how could she! If only he would help her. 
 If only Raising her eyes bravely, she began. 
 
 " But Mr. Cotton " 
 
 She stopped short. The light died out of her eyes, and 
 something quite unlovely displaced it. For, at that very 
 moment, while a servant approached from one direction 
 with tea and cakes, from both entrances of the palace 
 poured forth what seemed to be a stream of people. 
 Instead of straggling in by ones and twos in their wonted 
 fashion, it seemed to Erica Manners as if the whole 
 Burgess party had deliberately formed in two battalions 
 to storm her position. Cotton rose as they flocked to- 
 wards him. 
 
 The man would have placed the tea things before 
 Erica, but she motioned him away, and Mrs. Burgess 
 served it. After handing it round, Cotton resumed his 
 place beside her. For no one had ventured to sit beside 
 Mrs. Manners uninvited. But he had hardly done so 
 when Miss Melendy came tearing down the nearer steps 
 and stood before him with scarlet cheeks and eager eyes. 
 He pushed her gently into his seat and drew up a rickety 
 chair and sat beside her. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton, what do you think? " the girl cried, 
 while the eyes of all excepting Mrs. Manners rested sym- 
 pathetically, even fondly upon her. " I've found a Gari- 
 baldi, a perfect stunner, and where do you guess? Right 
 out there on the Arno fancy ! Just above Americus's 
 house, you know. We must have passed it half a dozen 
 times ! " 
 
 " Well, now, that is singular," he remarked, partly to
 
 FIREWEED 107 
 
 her, partly to the interested group. " That certainly is 
 very curious. But I would back Miss Melendy to dis- 
 cover anything anywhere and at any time." 
 
 " Bully for Hank ! " cried Mary Little with her custom- 
 ary laugh. 
 
 Cotton turned politely to Mrs. Manners. 
 
 " We have been on the lookout for statues and memo- 
 rials of all sorts connected with Garibaldi ever since we 
 struck Italy, Mrs. Manners," he explained; though what 
 she noted was that he didn't " ma'am " her before others. 
 " But you'd be greatly surprised or you would be if 
 you were as untraveled as Miss Melendy and I to dis- 
 cover how very rare they are, at least so far as we have 
 gone. We looked for 'em at every other corner. And 
 now to think of Miss Melendy's discovering one right 
 out yonder ! " 
 
 " And in his poncho, too ! " cried the girl, whose eyes 
 shone as if she had found a gold mine. " But I won't 
 tell you more, Mr. Cotton." 
 
 " You two hero-worshipers have something in store for 
 to-morrow when we go up to Fiesole," remarked Dr. 
 Burgess pleasantly. " You will open your eyes wide 
 when you get into the public square." 
 
 " Oh, doctor, what is it ? " Miss Melendy begged to 
 know. 
 
 He smiled. " Two handsome figures mounted on two 
 noble chargers," he replied with what Erica considered 
 the excess of smugness. " Victor Emmanud clasping 
 the hand of Garibaldi." 
 
 " I don't know how we could ask more," Cotton ob- 
 served. "What time do we start, Doctor?" 
 
 " Not until after luncheon. We go up in the tram and 
 return in carriages with the sunset." 
 
 Dr. Burgess passed his cup to his wife to be refilled, 
 and she gave the matter her undivided attention. With
 
 io8 FIREWEED 
 
 the others, she always seemed a bit distrait, as if she was 
 longing to get back to her fancy work which at the 
 moment was tatting. But when she filled her husband's 
 cup she acted as if she believed life to be eminently worth 
 while. And she always lingered long over that brew. 
 
 " Well, I suppose we can wait if we must, and shall 
 make shift to piece out the morning somehow or other," 
 Cotton declared drolly. He turned to his left hand 
 neighbor. 
 
 " Take your tea, Miss Melendy, and then if you are 
 not too tired, I should like well to see this statue right 
 now. Would any one else be interested ? " he inquired, 
 glancing round. " How should you feel, Mrs. Manners ? " 
 
 To his surprise for his opinion of her was under- 
 going revision she refused in ungracious fashion, leav- 
 ing the impression that the figure was insignificant as a 
 work of art. Miss Budd said she would love to see it, 
 but she felt constrained to favor her feet. Miss Williams 
 was eager to go and swallowed her tea so hastily that the 
 tears rose to her eyes and blurred the thick lenses of her 
 glasses. Maude Griffiths, too, was enthusiastic in her 
 pretty way, and the four set off gaily, disappearing 
 through the nearer entrance into the palace. 
 
 Erica sat in stony silence long after all the others had 
 left the garden. Then she rose and went listlessly in. 
 It was not yet nearly time to dress for dinner which was 
 at eight, and after wandering about a little, finding the 
 writing-room empty, she dropped into a chair in the dim- 
 mest corner of the long apartment, and gave herself up 
 to bewailing or rather, cursing her ill luck. 
 
 This was the second time that impossible Miss Melendy 
 had bounced in upon her, Erica wondered if she hadn't 
 done it purposely, maliciously. And everything had been 
 propitious at just that moment ! If that disgusting posse 
 hadn't swooped down, she might at this instant be feeling
 
 FIREWEED 109 
 
 calm and happy and satisfied and justified. That was 
 all she wanted, justification. 
 
 At seven, Cotton entered the room. He did not see 
 her. Seating himself at one of the writing-tables, he 
 took something from his pocket. It was that self-same 
 little red memorandum book. 
 
 Settling down as if for an hour's work, he took his 
 stylographic pen from his pocket and began to write. 
 But when he had written what could hardly have been 
 three lines, he stopped short, picked up a small piece of 
 blotting paper, shut it in the book, rose abruptly and left 
 the room. 
 
 Could he have seen her? she asked herself. Was that 
 the reason he had interrupted himself? But no. If he 
 had seen her, he would have looked at her, would have 
 spoken. He was too 
 
 Suddenly he appeared again, and Erica's heart beat 
 quickly. She believed he had seen her and had come back 
 to speak to her to say something hard and cruel. He 
 wasn't in his usual genial mood when he moved like a 
 whirlwind. 
 
 The apprehension flashed through her mind, lightning 
 quick. Almost simultaneously, Cotton replaced the bit 
 of blotting paper on the table and vanished again. Erica 
 waited a moment. Then she went to the table and after 
 glancing quickly around seized the blotter and hurried 
 from the room. 
 
 Just outside the door she encountered Miss Melendy 
 and started perceptibly. 
 
 " For the love of Mike ! " cried the girl. " How you 
 scared me, Mrs. Manners. What's the row? Anything 
 up ? You look as if you were fleeing from something or 
 some one. Is there a spook in the writing room? Or 
 have you committed homicide and is that a dagger 
 you are hiding in the fold of your skirt or what
 
 no FIRE WEED 
 
 would be a fold if skirts weren't so like trousers this 
 year?" 
 
 Mrs. Manners, who truly was having difficulty to con- 
 ceal the piece of blotting paper, small as it was, flushed 
 angrily. 
 
 " The ghost of boredom haunts me constantly," she 
 declared superciliously. " I fancy it's the dead slowness 
 of everything that drives me to endeavor to get a physical 
 reaction, in any event, through running up stairs. You 
 probably couldn't conceive how seeing only things you 
 know by heart, and hearing people repeat the sickeningly 
 obvious banalities get on one's nerves." 
 
 Miss Melendy, who was far from being her best self 
 in Mrs. Manners's presence, thrust her hands deep into 
 her skirt pockets. 
 
 " Do you know, they tell me that sort of restlessness is 
 likely to haunt every idle woman in her thirties," she 
 remarked in a judicial tone. " Perhaps that's partly why 
 I am going in for medicine, so that I won't have time 
 to get that bug." 
 
 " You'll only have the more time," retorted Erica. 
 " Practise comes slowly enough to a doctor in any case, 
 and I fancy it will come even more slowly than usual to 
 you. I rather think from my experience I am twenty- 
 eight that first, people like for a physician a real man 
 and after him a real woman. They're mighty shy of the 
 third sex." 
 
 With that she was gone. 
 
 " At any rate," remarked Hank Melendy to herself as 
 she sat down at the table to write her daily letter to her 
 father, " I made her madder than she did me, though I 
 must own that I'm a good bit riled. I should certainly 
 like to punch her head for her ! Old cat ! " 
 
 She jerked her fountain pen from her pocket. As she 
 had absent-mindedly put it in wrong side up, as she re-
 
 FIREWEED in 
 
 moved the cap, a great drop of ink fell on the sheet of 
 letter paper. 
 
 " Gosh ! Where's that blooming blotter ! " she exclaimed 
 inelegantly, looking and feeling wildly about. But there 
 was none in sight on this or the other table. It happened 
 that she was certain that it must be in plain sight. As 
 she wriggled around another great drop fell on her fresh 
 white pique skirt. 
 
 With a yet bolder expletive, Miss Melendy abandoned 
 her pen and fled to her room, the so-called Italian room 
 which was only half as high as the other lofty apartments 
 and had been assigned to her as the only lady of the party 
 who did not take an afternoon nap. Donning another 
 suit, she sat down and wrote a letter with a lead pencil. 
 
 When she presented herself at Mrs. Miles's door, she 
 was a bit later than usual. Mrs. Miles's blouses fastened, 
 one and all, in the back; and Miss Melendy, who was, 
 despite her masculine garb, thoughtful in many little ways 
 commonly called feminine, always had herself ready fif- 
 teen minutes before dinner or any other occasion when 
 it was a question of dressing, in order to put the finishing 
 touches upon Mrs. Miles's toilet. 
 
 She found that lady to-night standing before her mir- 
 ror with red eyelids and a much powdered nose. Miss 
 Melendy loathed powder, but she kissed Mrs. Miles on 
 her fair powdered cheek and asked anxiously if she had 
 had bad news from home. 
 
 " Oh, no, Hank dear. It's nothing at all. I'm just a 
 silly old thing ! " wailed Mrs. Miles. " I ought not to 
 mind anything, so long as Miles keeps well and doesn't 
 get smashed up in his new automobile. Only well, 
 Hank, I was in Miss Lancaster's room just a few minutes 
 ago having a real pleasant visit with her, when Mrs. Man- 
 ners came in. She sort of looked at me, you know, 
 and I I said something about Raphael's madonnas, 
 you know " she caught her breath " and she "
 
 ii2 FIREWEED 
 
 Tears gathered in her eyes. She struggled to go on. 
 But Miss Melendy interfered. 
 
 " See here, honey, this won't do at all," she declared 
 firmly. " You had better wait until to-morrow or at 
 least until after supper before you tell me. She's a d.f ., 
 that's what she is, and for the moment we'll let it go 
 at that. You won't digest your wittles unless you get 
 her off your mind first." 
 
 " I don't care so much for that part of it, Hank," Mrs. 
 Miles owned lugubriously. " What troubles me is the 
 way I look. I'm such a fright, and I had planned to 
 make a call this evening on a cousin of Miles's a dis- 
 tant cousin, she is that I met when I was on East four 
 years ago. Cousin Clara wrote me that she was here in 
 Florence, and Honestly, dear, don't I look too bad 
 to go?" 
 
 " You'll be all o.k. after dinner, honey ; it won't show a 
 mite by that time," Miss Melendy assured her, and began 
 diplomatically to inquire about this friend of Cousin 
 Clara's, where she was staying, and what she was like, 
 and whether she knew that Mrs. Miles was on the con- 
 tinent. And Mrs. Miles straightway forgot her troubles 
 as she entered into a recital that lasted until they went 
 downstairs, though she drew a deep, sobbing breath now 
 and then that went straight to Hank's warm heart. 
 
 Meantime, Erica Manners was also dressing for din- 
 ner, but more deliberately and unperturbed. She had 
 chosen a favorite and very becoming gown, a rich, soft 
 silk, fawn-colored and opalescent, with chiffon drapery 
 and pearl trimming. The shade of the silk so accorded 
 with her soft fawn-colored hair and dun-colored eyes 
 as to make her exceedingly picturesque; and the con- 
 sciousness of this, together with a certain vaguely eager 
 expectation connected with the bit of blotting paper,
 
 FIREWEED 113 
 
 enhanced this by lending a flush to her cheeks and a light 
 to her eyes. She had forgotten, for the moment, the 
 disagreeable episodes of the afternoon (perhaps she had 
 vented a good part of her ill humor upon Mrs. Miles) 
 and felt quite like herself ; not, indeed, like the self 
 that had been so excited, so almost happy, as she had 
 discussed poetry with Caleb Cotton in the garden, but 
 like the old, every-day self of pre-trial days who had 
 been, after all, very good company. 
 
 Closing the door of her bedroom to shut out the sight 
 and thought of Miss Lancaster, Erica drew the blotting 
 paper from the drawer, and taking a silver-backed mirror 
 from the dressing-table, seated herself on a sofa under 
 the light. As she had anticipated, the words, written with 
 a coarse point, were quite legible on the surface of the 
 mirror. She drew a deep breath and read with a thrill 
 of excitement: 
 
 " On this day, eleven years ago, my beloved Grace 
 entered into eternal life." 
 
 The mirror slipped from Erica's hand. Her eyes 
 stared unseeingly at the reversed letters on the blotting 
 paper, for they had filled with tears. She could not 
 understand how or wherefore, but suddenly she dropped 
 her head against the arm of the sofa and wept softly, the 
 tears coursing down her cheeks. 
 
 It was only for a few moments, but the effect was 
 strange, almost marvelous ; her heart was strangely eased, 
 her spirit refreshed. Her face was truly sweet and 
 gentle as the explanation came to her of Caleb Cotton's 
 repeating that morning the lines he had afterwards re- 
 peated to her: 
 
 " Backward, turn backward, O time in your flight, 
 Make me a child again, just for to-night ! " 
 
 What an absurd, loyal, likable soul he was, after all! 
 And they were getting acquainted!
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 AT dinner that night, whereas Mrs. Miles was, as she 
 had apprehended, rather a fright, Erica Manners was 
 only the more picturesque for the tears she had shed. 
 Indeed, for the moment, she was almost lovely. Her 
 gown gleamed with a soft, pearl-like luster; there were 
 faint golden lights in her hair, a faint flush on her cheeks, 
 and a pensiveness that was almost sweetness deepened 
 somewhat her shallow brown eyes. Again, while every- 
 one in the dining room who looked at Mrs. Miles knew 
 she had been crying, only one person guessed the fact 
 in regard to Mrs. Manners. Caleb Cotton might have 
 been dense in certain directions, but in others he was 
 the clearest of the clear-sighted. As he glanced at the 
 table where she sat with Miss Lancaster, he detected the 
 signs in a twinkling. 
 
 To-day he had understood for the first time how it was 
 within the bounds of possibility that Alexander Manners 
 should have retained his love for his wife up to the last. 
 And now he felt sorry for her, poor, lonely, spoiled child, 
 with her little impulses towards what was fair and fine 
 and her unconsciously colossal selfishness. None the less 
 he forgot her quite when he caught sight of Mrs. Miles. 
 Evidence of recent grief on the countenance of his old 
 friend touched Cotton nearly. But perceiving that she 
 strove to conceal her trouble, and that Miss Melendy was 
 striving to make her forget it, he came to the latter's 
 assistance cordially. Making the dinner hour cheerful 
 with his droll off-hand talk, which was to-night prac- 
 
 114
 
 FIRE WEED 115 
 
 tically monologue, he enlivened the others and completely 
 diverted Mrs. Miles, so that at the close of it she was 
 ready and eager for her visit to Miles's cousin. 
 
 Nancy had not felt able to come down, so her father 
 left promptly as they rose from the table. Dr. Burgess 
 went out with Mrs. Miles to put her in her carriage and 
 direct the driver. The others lingered in the lobby. As 
 Mrs. Manners would have passed through, Miss Melendy 
 stopped her. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners," she cried, " I'm depending on 
 you to clear up a mystery for me ! " 
 
 Erica stared at her in haughty inquiry, though within 
 she was extremely disturbed. For the first time in her 
 life, she was afraid of some one. She feared the auda- 
 cious wit of the young girl she hated. 
 
 " I am sure I haven't the least idea what you mean, 
 Miss Melendy, but I will ask you to be brief, for I am 
 rather in a hurry," she said coldly. 
 
 The eyes of the others centered upon the two; there 
 was a curious sense of tension in the air. Miss Melendy, 
 despite the attempt she made to be casual, was pale, and 
 her youthful brow was set and stern. She wore a red 
 scarf with her white suit, and her friends thought she 
 looked handsome, like a righteous young judge, Miss 
 Cameron said afterwards. 
 
 " Very well, then I needn't be preliminary," she said. 
 " Did you happen to carry off that small, precious blotter 
 from the table in the writing-room this afternoon?" 
 
 " Of course not ! What do you mean, Miss Melendy ? " 
 Erica retorted hotly. Afterwards she told herself that 
 it wasn't really a lie because she answered before she 
 thought. Moreover, it was not Miss Melendy's business. 
 One who thrusts the muzzle of a pistol before another's 
 face forfeits by that very action one's right to the truth. 
 However, if she had been cooler, it would have been more
 
 n6 FIREWEED 
 
 satisfactory to refuse haughtily to answer such an inso- 
 lent demand. 
 
 "You're quite sure?" Miss Melendy asked incredu- 
 lously. Mrs. Manners shrugged her shoulders super- 
 ciliously. Whereupon Miss Melendy took the others into 
 her confidence, or such as remained. Mrs. Manners 
 herself stood still, partly because she was hemmed in, 
 partly because she did not dare to leave until she should 
 learn Miss Melendy's purpose in attacking her. Mrs. 
 Burgess, who was mildly alarmed, stole out, with Miss 
 Lancaster reluctantly following. The latter knew that 
 Mrs. Manners would never forgive her if she should 
 linger. 
 
 " Listen," Miss Melendy cautioned them superfluously. 
 " Soon after seven, I came down to the writing-room to 
 write to dad, and met Mr. Cotton at the foot of the stair. 
 He saw what I was up to and said, well now, it must 
 have been a premonition of my need that made him go 
 back at that very minute to restore the blotter he had 
 carried away shut up in his little red book to its proper 
 place. I told him that more likely what reminded him 
 was the fact that he couldn't get the precious book into 
 his pocket with the blotter sticking out, and he drew 
 down his lips and said ' Just so ! ' All that naturally 
 fixed it in my mind and prepared me to find the blotter 
 in case of need ; but, by George, when I spilled a gob of 
 ink and reached round for it, it wasn't there! It was 
 nowhere to be found. Now, what do you think of that ? " 
 
 " Did you look on the floor, Hank ? " Miss Budd in- 
 quired soberly. 
 
 " Indeed, I did, Buddy dear, and on the ceiling and 
 the chandelier. You've got another guess coming, Friend 
 Sherlock." 
 
 " Oh, Hank ! " protested Miss Little, giggling. 
 
 " You know it couldn't have been three minutes
 
 FIREWEED 117 
 
 hardly more than three seconds from the time Mr. 
 Cotton left the room until I entered it, meeting Mrs. 
 Manners just this side the threshold. Was there any one 
 else in the room when he left, Mrs. Manners ? " 
 
 " I haven't the slightest idea, Miss Melendy," said Erica 
 shortly. " It's altogether too hot to stand in this stuffy 
 hole talking nonsense. I will get you a large sheet of 
 blotting paper to-morrow or a dozen large sheets and if 
 you can't wait you may have my writing case meantime. 
 Will that satisfy you, pray ? " 
 
 " Quite the contrary, Mrs. Manners," returned Miss 
 Melendy promptly and pleasantly. " All that, you know, 
 is nothing to Old Sleuth. It's the mystery that gets me." 
 
 Erica felt it undignified and unworthy herself to linger ; 
 but when Miss Melendy again turned to her satellites, like 
 a concert master facing his orchestra, she couldn't but 
 remain to see how far the insolent girl might go. 
 
 " One reason why I'm so keen about it, is because 
 when I was at boarding-school where there was a pretty 
 lovesick little teacher who was supposed to be always 
 writing to her beau, one of the girls took to following 
 her about with a little mirror and reading sentiments 
 from the blotters she used. The head mistress got hold 
 of it somehow, and Lord ! what a row ! What a dressing 
 down that girl got ! And those that had listened to her 
 didn't get off lightly, believe me! To this day, I never 
 see a blotter with any sort of legible tracks on it that I 
 don't shudder inwardly. But of course, in oh, come on 
 girls, let's go make a thorough search of the premises." 
 
 All the group, with the exception of Mrs. Manners, 
 followed Miss Melendy into the writing-room. Needless 
 to say, there was no search for the lost bit of paper. The 
 six of them seated themselves in a compact group. 
 
 " My dear Hank," protested Miss Cameron gently, 
 " weren't you rather hard ? "
 
 n8 FIREWEED 
 
 Hank drew a deep sigh as she plumped herself dewn on 
 a sofa between Mary Little and Maude Griffiths. 
 
 " I suppose I was. I feel like thirty cents, I confess," 
 she returned. " I haven't any hunch for playing the 
 bully; and goodness knows, if that woman wants to 
 read what Mr. Cotton writes in his diary, let her ! 
 Only " 
 
 Miss Little laughed. 
 
 " But Hank, consider. I'd be willing to wager twenty 
 lire that all any blotter he used would give away would be 
 lists of figures : the height of the Campanile in metres, 
 the number of sculptures on the Duomo, or even the 
 number of pieces that go to make the mosaics we saw 
 this morning." 
 
 Again she laughed. " That man has such a passion for 
 facts and figures ! " she cried. " They might be little 
 orphans, he's so tender towards them ! " 
 
 " To tell the truth, girls, when I met him, Mr. Cotton 
 was looking as sad as if they had been little dead orphans, 
 stretched out in a row, that's why I tried to jolly him," 
 confessed Hank. " But that wasn't why I pitched into 
 Lady Manners. I'm not guarding Mr. Cotton's secrets, 
 though he is such an old dear, and I'm not watching over 
 her ladyship's honor or want of it. I simply took my 
 chance to pay her back because I was furious at her for 
 making Mrs. Miles cry. She's lit into Mrs. Miles more 
 than once, cat as she is, and to-day Mrs. Miles was 
 awfully done up over it. You all saw how she looked 
 some little time after the worst was over. So I lit into 
 Mrs. Manners." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " I don't know what good 
 it will do beyond making me feel queer," she added. 
 
 " I can't help wishing she hadn't joined us ; we were 
 such a cozy little family party before," observed Miss 
 Williams.
 
 FIREWEED 119 
 
 " It wasn't so bad until we came to a pension," re- 
 marked Miss Budd hopefully. " Maybe when we get to 
 Rome, we will be in a hotel again and they'll have their 
 own suite and will stick to it." 
 
 " It seemed to me she was the limit in Paris. And 
 Rome is only one place. We're going to stop at a slew of 
 pensions ; and anyhow, she'll make shift to get in her 
 little digs and nasty speeches just the same," grumbled 
 Miss Melendy. 
 
 " And don't you think pensions are rather nicer ? " 
 inquired Maude Griffiths plaintively. " It would hardly 
 pay to put up at hotels just so that she could be by 
 herself." 
 
 Mary Little laughed as she reached her long arm across 
 Miss Melendy to pat Maude's crinkly red hair. 
 
 " No, Maudie, indeed it would not, and your last name 
 ought to be Gilpin, because of your prudent mind. But 
 doesn't it occur to any one else that Mrs. Manners is just 
 as uncomfortable as we under this combination. And 
 that makes me think it was too funny for words ! 
 Giuseppe " 
 
 " Hold on, Little Mary, you're getting off the track, 
 and I want to stay on till something is settled or unset- 
 tled," Miss Melendy broke in. " And what you said 
 makes me think. If that is so, if she doesn't like us 
 any better than we tolerate her why isn't it dead easy ? 
 She has no use for us and we less for her. Why not 
 decently separate, then ? We won't even need to employ 
 Mr. Cotton to divorce us, for both sides agree to incom- 
 patibility of temper. What do you say, Miss Cameron? " 
 
 " I doubt if it's so simple as all that, Hank," replied 
 Miss Cameron gravely. She had had long experience 
 with girls and women and was older than Mrs. Manners 
 by twenty years. " It is perfectly evident that Mrs. Man- 
 ners doesn't care for us; but I hardly think she would
 
 120 FIREWEED 
 
 be willing to leave us. Otherwise, why hasn't she made 
 some move to that end already? Miss Lancaster is per- 
 fectly fit now, and yet they apparently have no notion of 
 going on by themselves again." 
 
 Secretly, Miss Cameron believed that Mrs. Manners's 
 interest in Mr. Cotton would hold her when nothing else 
 could. Indeed, she believed that it held her now. But 
 apparently no one else had noticed that situation and she 
 was too upright to plant suspicion in the minds of the 
 others. All the other members of the party relied im- 
 plicitly upon Miss Cameron's judgment, and her sober 
 words carried conviction at this moment. 
 
 " We certainly were a cozy little party without her," 
 repeated Miss Budd pleasantly, and Miss Williams sec- 
 onded the remark as cordially as if it had not been her 
 own in the first instance. 
 
 " Cozy sounds like winter and sitting round a fire or 
 snuggling under a comfortable," laughed Miss Little, 
 " but all the same we were jogging along under the 
 blazing canopy very peacefully until those two butted in. 
 Funny, isn't it, what a difference two people can make 
 or rather, one person, for by herself Miss Lancaster's 
 comparatively harmless." 
 
 Mary Little, who wore tulle over bright blue, which 
 made her prominent round blue eyes look innocent and 
 curious like those of a big baby, stretched out her long 
 legs before her and gazed complacently upon her blue 
 satin slippers and fine silk ankles. 
 
 " Some foot ! " remarked Miss Melendy, and placed 
 her own square toes alongside the narrow satin points. 
 
 " I don't suppose Cousin Annabel would have come 
 abroad one step if she had known about that Mrs. Man- 
 ners," declared Miss Budd, who was also in blue and 
 looked very large and very blonde. " Miles is that care- 
 ful of her, he would never have consented. Do you
 
 FIREWEED 121 
 
 know, I don't believe Cousin Annabel's ever had a harsh 
 word said to her from the moment she was married until 
 this Mrs. Manners er well " 
 
 " Lit into her," concluded Miss Melendy as she jumped 
 up and perched on the arm of Miss Cameron's chair so 
 as to face the others. 
 
 " See here, fellows, what's the sense of chewing the 
 rag any longer? " she demanded. " Why should we have 
 our trip spoiled in this way, when we're not half done 
 yet? Why shouldn't we just go to Dr. Burgess and ask 
 him to well, to request Mrs. Manners to hand in her 
 resignation? Little Mary and I, being born fighters, 
 could stand her; but Maude lets it wear on her, and it's 
 simply ruining everything for Mrs. Miles, not to mention 
 making things less cozy for Buddy and Willy. And even 
 Nancy I don't know, but I had strong suspicions when 
 I came upon them alone in the garden the day before 
 we left Paris that the cat had been rowing Nancy. If 
 she could do that " 
 
 Hank's honest eyes flashed. 
 
 " No, Hank, I hardly think she would do that," Miss 
 Cameron interjected. 
 
 " Well, I wasn't sure. She's capable of as bad, but it 
 doesn't seem likely any one would venture to sass Mr. 
 Cotton's daughter. For all he's so dear, he'd be simply 
 terrific as the lawyer prosecuting one. But certainly Nan 
 wouldn't miss her. And Doctor would be ready to let 
 her go hang. She makes him more trouble than any one 
 he ever had before. Mrs. Burgess whispered that in 
 Mrs. Miles's ear." 
 
 " It isn't like she was poor," Maude Griffiths said gently. 
 
 " Not on your tintype. Miss Lancaster whispers with 
 bated breath that she's worth a million or more. Let 
 her hire a special guide ! Let her be a royal Cook's tour 
 of self-and-nursemaid ! "
 
 122 FIRE WEED 
 
 After some further discussion, it became plain that 
 general sentiment favored getting rid of the intruder as 
 soon as might be. Miss Williams proposed in a quick, 
 nervous way that belied her counsel, that they take a few 
 days to consider the matter. 
 
 " No sirree ! " rejoined Miss Melendy emphatically. 
 " We'll do it to-night, Willy dear, before Mrs. Miles gets 
 back. Like as not she'd be too chicken-hearted to agree 
 to it. She was rather smitten with Mrs. Manners in the 
 first place, if you recollect. No, we'll put it through in 
 her absence. We have a quorum right here." 
 
 " How about Mr. Cotton ? Shouldn't we consult him ? " 
 inquired Maude Griffiths in the matter-of-fact voice that 
 was curiously contrasted with her extreme prettiness. 
 
 Miss Cameron vetoed that promptly. 
 
 " Oh, no, Maude, it wouldn't be fair to bring Mr. Cot- 
 ton in. If the thing is to be done, we women must put 
 it through. We can't put it on a man, particularly upon 
 as chivalrous a gentleman as one is likely to encounter 
 in a lifetime. Of course, if she were a friend of his it 
 would be different; but he avoids her when he can. I 
 think, Hank, it is for you and me to do this. Dr. Bur- 
 gess will be out in the garden now. Shall we go and 
 lay it before him and let him have the night to think it 
 over?" 
 
 They found it not at all a difficult task to perform. 
 Dr. Burgess was devoted to his original party, some of 
 whom had been his friends for years. He heard Miss 
 Cameron and Miss Melendy sympathetically ; and though 
 he had not realized how bad things were, conceived the 
 situation immediately. 
 
 " I'll think it over and let you know to-morrow night, 
 after our return from Fiesole," he agreed. " Of course, 
 since that's the way the majority of us feel, there's really 
 nothing to do but to return as soon as may be to our
 
 FIREWEED 123 
 
 original number, and finish our tour so happily as to make 
 us forget the unfortunate digression. The only question 
 is as to the how and the when." 
 
 He smiled ruefully. 
 
 " If you won't tell, I don't mind saying to you two 
 that I'm a bit afraid of Mrs. Manners. I assure you it 
 will be no " 
 
 " Cinch ? " suggested Miss Melendy. 
 
 " No cinch to discuss the question with her," he con- 
 cluded. 
 
 " But you're game," Miss Melendy assured him warmly. 
 
 " I'm game ! " he declared. 
 
 Miss Melendy had his comforting tidings at the end 
 of her tongue when she went to Mrs. Miles's room late 
 that evening, to help her out of her gown. When she 
 returned to her own room she felt thankful that they 
 had not delayed in putting the matter before their leader. 
 For she had found Mrs. Miles full of excitement, eager 
 to relate some news or gossip she had heard from the 
 stranger. Miss Melendy wouldn't for worlds have 
 missed the story; but she was well pleased that she had 
 not heard it before going to Dr. Burgess. 
 
 Mrs. Miles had named to Mrs. Whipple the members 
 of the party at the Pensione Magenta. The latter had 
 exclaimed at Mrs. Manners's name. A connection of 
 hers had married Alexander Manners's cousin, and hav- 
 ing discovered that she was the widow of Alexander, she 
 related the history of the sensational divorce suit. The 
 only name she recollected besides those of the principals 
 was that of Philip Stokes. Of him, she had much to say. 
 
 It was not Mrs. Whipple's fault that her information 
 in regard to that young man was inaccurate where it was 
 not erroneous or false. She handed on the story to Mrs. 
 Miles as she had received it, giving her the impression
 
 124 FIRE WEED 
 
 that Stokes had been the co-respondent, and that all sorts 
 of shocking things had come out concerning Mrs. Man- 
 ners's relations with him. But Mrs. Manners, she as- 
 sured her listener, had been so infatuated and brazen that 
 she hadn't minded anything, and that the sudden tragic 
 death of her husband hadn't caused her to turn a hair. 
 
 " I can't seem to remember anything more now, Hank 
 dear, but if anything should come to me, I'll tell you 
 to-morrow," said Mrs. Miles in conclusion as, freed from 
 the restrictions of her dress, looking larger but more 
 comfortable, she stood before the mirror putting up her 
 front hair in crimping pins. 
 
 "Just think, Hank," she added, "Mr. Cotton must 
 have known all about it." 
 
 " It might have happened before he came East," sug- 
 gested Hank. 
 
 " My dear Hank, it was only last spring ! " 
 
 " Gee ! " cried Hank in amazement. But when she con- 
 sidered the matter with regard to Mr. Cotton, she said of 
 course he wouldn't be the sort to peach. 
 
 " Wouldn't it be great to hear about it from him now? " 
 she exclaimed. " Being a lawyer, he would know all the 
 fine points. But I'd never dass ask him, would you? " 
 
 " I don't know as I would, though I can't imagine being 
 afraid of Caleb Cotton," responded the other. But her 
 thoughts were elsewhere. 
 
 " Maybe it's that that makes her Mrs. Manners so 
 difficult," she observed charitably. " Mrs. Whipple says 
 she was all gone on the young man and expected he would 
 marry her as soon as she was free. But I believe she 
 was older than what he was. Anyhow, for some reason, 
 he hung off. He wants her money, Mrs. Whipple says, 
 yet after her husband's death made it so easy, he wasn't 
 so anxious. And people say she came abroad to get 
 over it. It looks very much like it, doesn't it, Hank ? "
 
 FIREWEED 125 
 
 " Might be," said Hank absently. 
 
 " I can't help being sorry for her," added Mrs. Miles, 
 " even if she didn't behave very well. It's a terrible 
 thing being in love that way and not having it returned. 
 Poor, misled young thing ! " 
 
 " Not so darned young, either ! " remarked Miss Me- 
 lendy dryly, " for she owns to being twenty-eight. And 
 take it from me, my friend, if there was any misleading 
 done, that young thing had a hand in it. And I can't 
 believe she got half her come-uppings either." 
 
 The following morning Miss Melendy told the others 
 she hadn't mentioned to Mrs. Miles what had taken place 
 among them during her absence, and cautioned them to 
 say nothing until the matter should be settled.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 AMONG his professional paraphernalia, Dr. Burgess 
 carried about a small folding rack which was always 
 placed in a conspicuous position in the hotel or pension 
 where the party was quartered and in which the letters 
 of the members were arranged. Since Mrs. Manners 
 had joined the party, her letters had been posted with 
 the others, and it would have been impossible for any one 
 who visited the rack regularly to fail to remark that the 
 bulk of her mail was from one correspondent. She re- 
 ceived many letters, sometimes three or four by one post, 
 in large, square gray-green envelopes, addressed in a bold, 
 handsome hand that was plainly that of a man. It was 
 only the morning after Mrs. Miles's call upon Mrs. 
 Whipple that Miss Melendy noticed that the postmark 
 upon two such letters which had just been put out was 
 St. Vincent, the same as that upon a smaller envelope 
 directed in a cramped old-fashioned handwriting to Miss 
 Nancy Cotton. 
 
 Manners coming just before Melendy, the girl couldn't 
 help seeing this, and she did not feel she was doing wrong 
 in taking a second survey. So doing, she knit her brows 
 in perplexity. " Mrs. Erica Ericson Manners " it 
 wasn't only that the writing was so handsome and dash- 
 ing; there was something about the way in which the 
 lovely name was written in full that made one feel per- 
 force that it had been done con amore. These missives 
 couldn't be from the reluctant Stokes, the young man 
 who wanted her ladyship's money but hesitated at taking 
 
 126
 
 FIREWEED 127 
 
 her along with it. And anyhow, he wouldn't write so 
 constantly as this correspondent wrote ; for, according to 
 Mrs. Miles's informant, it was a case of " Whistle and 
 I'll come to you, my lad." There must be another, a gen- 
 uine lover, if, indeed, one could be genuine and care for 
 her. However, Hank had to admit there had been not 
 a few instances in history of obsession of that sort. 
 
 She climbed the stair slowly and was so deep in thought 
 that she started violently as she encountered Nancy Cot- 
 ton in the upper corridor. 
 
 " Oh, honey, there's a letter for you down there. Wait 
 here and I'll fetch it," she proposed. 
 
 But Nancy declared she would go down and get it. 
 
 "Just where are the letters, Hank, dear?" she asked. 
 " Pappy always gets ours so I never think anything about 
 it. But he went off early this morning so as to get up 
 to the Piazza Michelangelo for the sunrise, and isn't 
 back yet." 
 
 Hank directed her and passed on. As she would have 
 entered Mrs. Miles's room, she recollected that she, too, 
 had had a letter, and started back. But she stopped short 
 on the upper landing. 
 
 Below her, Nancy stood before the rack like one trans- 
 fixed by horror or terror, gazing straight before her, 
 yes, and at the letter which she herself had just been 
 studying. White as a ghost, with all her sorrowful, 
 hungering heart in her eyes, with clasped hands and 
 frozen face, the girl agonized (Miss Melendy could but 
 know) over that line of handwriting. Suddenly she 
 threw a quick, wild glance about her. Reassured, she 
 unclasped her hands and softly touched the letter on top, 
 laid her hand against it as if to stroke it. Then, bolder 
 yet, she took it out, pressed it against her white cheek 
 and to her lips. An instant more, and she flew up the 
 stair, passing Miss Melendy without seeing her.
 
 128 FIREWEED 
 
 Conscious, on her own part, of a strange weakness that 
 was almost faintness, Miss Melendy returned to her 
 own room, again forgetting Mrs. Miles. She forgot, 
 too, her own letters, as she sat like a stone, trying 
 to think, yet seemingly incapable of thought. For the 
 moment, the shock seemed almost as great to her as to 
 Nancy. 
 
 After some time she went to the casement and stood 
 looking down into the garden. Poor little Nancy ! With 
 all her far-fetched speculation, she had never dreamed of 
 anything so terrible as this. The child was in love with 
 some one who was in his turn in love with Mrs. Manners ! 
 What a terrible, what a diabolical situation ! It might 
 or might not be that Stokes, in any event it was some- 
 one as bad ; for any one who cared enough for Mrs. Man- 
 ners to write her daily as this person must wasn't 
 worth one glance of Nancy's sweet eyes. Nevertheless, 
 the hard fact confronted her that Nancy had given her 
 heart into the keeping of such an one. Moreover, she 
 had as rival a selfish, hard, sophisticated woman of the 
 world. If this were not tragedy, then Hannah Melendy 
 did not know the meaning of the word. 
 
 Well, she knew now. She had sought arduously, 
 eagerly, for some clew to Nancy's sorrowful mystery. 
 Now she had what she sought. At last she had a foot- 
 hold. Wherefore, she should be encouraged, spurred to 
 vigorous action as she had anticipated. But such was 
 far from being the fact. With a heavy heart, Hannah 
 Melendy confessed that action was impossible. There 
 was nothing to do but to give up without making an 
 effort. Nancy was But she wouldn't say doomed. 
 
 The chambermaid came in to do her room. Seizing 
 her hat and jamming it down on her head, Miss Melendy 
 fled precipitately into the street, without waiting for her 
 usual word of " queer " Italian with Marietta or stopping
 
 FIREWEED 129 
 
 to inquire what plans for the morning the others might 
 have. 
 
 The sky was cloudless and very blue, though it seemed 
 strangely hard and metallic. Without knowing or caring 
 whither she went, the girl made her way swiftly down 
 the Borgo Ognissanti, keeping on the sunny side of the 
 street, though the morning was scorchingly hot already, 
 through the Via dei Fossi into the Piazza, beyond. 
 Vaguely aware, now, of a secret prompting which must 
 have drawn her hither, she crossed the square diagonally 
 in the full glare of the sun. Pausing only to drop a few 
 coppers into the hand of the blind woman at the door, 
 she pushed aside the corner of the portiere and took 
 refuge in Santa Maria Novella. 
 
 Refuge, indeed, it proved. The dim coolness faintly 
 perfumed with incense, the spaces, the high altar, the 
 quietude, answered the cry of the girl's perturbed spirit. 
 She dropped into a seat near one of the great pillars and 
 remained motionless for nearly an hour. During all that 
 time there were no strangers, the hour being too early 
 and the morning too hot for tourists ; only now and again 
 a flash of sunlight glinted in with the raising of a corner 
 of the curtain as some Florentine woman or girl entered 
 and bowed before some shrine. Gradually her tenseness 
 relaxed; Hannah Melendy felt as if a cool, kindly hand 
 had been laid upon her throbbing temples. The dim quiet, 
 the coolness, the simple faith she seemed to see exempli- 
 fied as these women brought their burdens to lay before 
 the mother of Christ, made her feel that her own 
 Nancy's might not be altogether crushing, that, though 
 the problem truly seemed hopeless, there must be solace 
 somewhere, somehow, for Nancy also. 
 
 So young, so sweet, so good, Nancy should not die of a 
 broken heart. As she left the church and came out into 
 the full light of the high sun, this assurance, more vaguely
 
 130 FIREWEED 
 
 expressed, was in the girl's mind. She hastened back to 
 the Magenta to endeavor to get Nancy to go out before 
 luncheon. 
 
 Meanwhile Erica Manners had gathered in the letters 
 that had aroused so much feeling, glanced over them care- 
 lessly, and tossed them upon a pile of others, largely from 
 the same person, who was, of course, Philip Stokes, on 
 the writing table in her room. She had had a bad night, 
 and it seemed that more than the old restlessness tortured 
 her on this hot, glaring morning. Miss Lancaster was 
 visiting the shops on the Ponte Vecchio. Finally, Erica 
 betook herself to the garden with a book, hoping and half 
 expecting that Cotton might find her there and resume the 
 conversation that had been so inopportunely interrupted 
 the day before. 
 
 Not that she thought he would be eager about it, 
 with all her egotism, she didn't dream of that. But she 
 felt that he must have understood she had something to 
 say to him. And that fair-and-squareness of his that 
 made him weigh what she said to him in conversation as 
 thoughtfully as if she had been a person high in his esteem 
 would lead him to accord her this well, favor. Erica 
 refrained from calling it " justice." 
 
 Even in the morning, there were a few shady spots in 
 the garden, and Erica had her choice of these. For the 
 only occupant she found was a deaf Englishwoman who 
 lived at the pension all the year around except for two 
 winter months spent in Egypt, and who had her own seat 
 in a secluded corner. Miss Cameron had gone with Miss 
 Budd and Miss Williams to the Pitti ; the rest of the 
 party were going about among the shops, and the new- 
 comers at the Magenta were out for first surveys of the 
 town. 
 
 A book she had found in the library lay open in her
 
 FIREWEED 131 
 
 lap, but nearly an hour went by and she had not turned a 
 leaf. Reading one page, however, had distracted her 
 and as she mused, to the melodious accompaniment of 
 Carlo Alberto's medley of opera and street songs, her 
 mind wandering among a corresponding medley of 
 visions, her face was for a time as nearly serene as 
 would have been possible with her. 
 
 She saw Marie- Antoinette (whom the volume in her 
 lap concerned) in her glittering pride at the play-house 
 at Versailles. Again, she saw her in the balcony, holding 
 up her ill-fated little son to the mob. Then she looked 
 back and saw her, an untrained, ignorant little girl of 
 fourteen, setting forth on that long, wearisome, cruel, 
 state pilgrimage from Austria to Paris. Erica sighed. 
 Then, being an egoist she saw another girl of four- 
 teen, ignorant, indeed, but extremely sophisticated, 
 haughty and bored, setting out for Europe with a fash- 
 ionable aunt and a French maid. In a way, this latter 
 girl had a chance a considerable chance. And yet 
 Erica sighed again surely something hati been wrong 
 that she should have been so bored and blase at fourteen. 
 
 The music from the kitchen ceased suddenly. The 
 scene changed drearily. She saw a dark, dismal old 
 court-room that seemed stained with the crimes of a cen- 
 tury, with swinging doors pierced by glass oblongs and 
 attendants in blue with brass buttons bustling officially 
 about. She saw the bored faces of lawyers and reporters 
 in the enclosure, the judge and his attendants, and the 
 sea of faces beyond the lawyers. She heard a voice, 
 cultivated, elegant, adequate, giving forth the secret sor- 
 rows of a woman, a mere girl in years, who was bound 
 to a man older than herself and far below her intellec- 
 tually and in every other way. She heard sentences, even 
 epigrams upon art and poetry that made even the news- 
 paper men open their eyes.
 
 132 FIREWEED 
 
 Another voice roused Erica Manners rudely, a voice 
 less cultured, but finer as to quality, absolutely true in 
 pitch, deep and ringing and charged with personality. 
 But, dear God, what hard words ! What unjust phrases ! 
 And how powerful ! How pitilessly scathing ! 
 
 She recalled what they had said to encourage her at 
 the time : how he had believed her case so strong that he 
 had nerved himself to the highest pitch in his endeavor to 
 break it down. He had truly put himself into it, heart 
 and soul. 
 
 Ah ! but so he did with everything. He was oh, the 
 explanation was simple, but there was no comfort in it. 
 Only, how comfortable it would be to have him heart and 
 soul for one instead of against one. 
 
 Erica leaned her head back against the wicker bench. 
 As she closed her eyes she seemed not to see but to hear 
 the words, the quaint, old-fashioned phraseology, which 
 seemed a part of the faraway past : " On this day, eleven 
 years ago, my beloved Grace entered into eternal life." 
 
 " My beloved Grace ! " Had he really loved her to the 
 depths of his capacity? Had he gone into that, heart 
 and soul? But how should he not? How could one 
 question? And yet, if he had, could he have outlived it, 
 even in eleven years ? He was worn, truly ; but it seemed 
 to have been through hard circumstance. His eyes, 
 though so youthfully clear and blue, were capable of 
 deep sadness, indeed, they were always faintly sad ; 
 and his whole face seemed channeled by struggle and 
 pain. But it seemed rather reminiscence of what he had 
 borne, coupled with anxiety for his daughter and a gen- 
 eral consciousness of the burden of the world's sorrow, 
 than mourning for a lost love. 
 
 Erica opened her eyes, shut her book together and 
 tossed it carelessly down on the bench. What utter non- 
 sense! Once in a great while, one caught a glimpse of
 
 FIREWEED 133 
 
 sadness in Cotton's face. But after all, it was very 
 rarely. As a matter of commonplace fact, the man was 
 the happiest member of a party that simply exuded smug 
 complacency. However his eyes might look in repose, 
 he was seldom in a state of repose. For the most part, 
 he simply went round enjoying himself from morning to 
 night! Such enjoyment must be crude, else it wouldn't 
 find so much to feast upon. Truly, in a way, he was 
 almost as much a rube as that fat, blonde Budd woman. 
 He admired the gilding and colors of a rococo ceiling as 
 much as Giotto's tower; and cared more for a copy of 
 Guido Reni in mosaic than for Botticelli's Spring. 
 
 Wearily, Erica picked up her book, found her place, 
 and read a sentence three times. Then, her eyes on the 
 page, she lost herself in reverie again. 
 
 No, he wasn't anything like so banal as that Budd. 
 He always had a reason, could explain his preferences. 
 And somehow, in spite of his ignorance of all save the 
 law and the lore of the backwoods, he was always inter- 
 esting. That the other members of the party who 
 weren't of course fastidious should simply hang on his 
 words wasn't surprising, but she herself And of 
 course, he was good-humored to the point of genius, if 
 there was such a point, and though lacking in manner, 
 was rarely thoughtful and considerate. He was yes, 
 one had to admit that he was chivalrous to a fault. As 
 to his ugliness and awkwardness 
 
 What a mass of contradictions ! A gentlemanly boor ! 
 a gracious log! a courteous rube! Erica wished to 
 heaven she didn't know what she did wish, she was 
 sure, but Whatever that might have been, she was 
 more than content to look up and see the subject of her 
 thoughts coming towards her at that moment. Her smile 
 was so natural and spontaneous that she did not realize 
 how warm a welcome it gave.
 
 i 3 4 FIREWEED 
 
 " Goodness, but you look hot, Mr. Cotton ! " she ex- 
 claimed. " Do sit down here in the shatie and cool 
 off." 
 
 He smiled comically as he stood irresolute before her, 
 towering far above her. He had been out since before 
 sunrise. His tanned face was darkly ruddy with the 
 heat, his collar limp and his shoes dusty. But the damp 
 hair curling about his temples made the direct gaze of his 
 blue eyes boyish and ingenuous, and as he stood fanning 
 himself with his Panama hat, there was something dis- 
 tinctly grateful, even beneficent in his presence, a 
 breadth and freshness as of nature herself, like a breeze 
 blown in from a field of lavender flowers. 
 
 " I am hot," he owned, " all het up, as an old aunt of 
 mine would have put it ; but I really ought not to sit 
 down with these shoes and my cuffs caving in. You see 
 I came right out here from the street, thinking there'd 
 be nobody round at this time o' day. My room gets tol- 
 erably warm when the sun's near the zenith, so I sort of 
 postponed breaking and entering." 
 
 " You did just right," she declared. " What's the odds ! 
 Sit right down this moment. You ought to stay here and 
 rest until luncheon if you're going to Fiesole." 
 
 Her smile made her a pretty girl again. Cotton seated 
 himself at the opposite end of the little settee. 
 
 " Yes, I calculate to go, ma'am," he replied, " but I 
 must wash up and dress; and besides, I'm not tired at all, 
 only warm. And that, you know, is largely because of 
 those girls. I was strolling along the Arno in the sun, 
 I own, but when I'm headed in this direction I like to 
 pass by the statue of Garibaldi, there now, I talk as if 
 it were an old habit, and I saw it for the first time yes- 
 terday. Time goes so fast, that yesterday seems to join 
 the remote past." 
 
 " Isn't that singular. The very same thing struck me a
 
 FIREWEED 135 
 
 few minutes ago," she cried. " But go on, please, Mr. 
 Cotton." 
 
 " Well, as I was passing, some one challenged me, and 
 there was a carriage stopping, and my own daughter, 
 if you please, ordering her father to hop in, hop in, 
 when he'd climbed a mountain already. It seems that she 
 and Miss Melendy were bound for a silversmith's on the 
 bridge down yonder to find some keepsakes to give to 
 Nanny's friends back home, and nothing would do but 
 that they should take me down to a bakeshop in the Via 
 Tornabuoni and give me a lunch because I had gone off 
 early without breakfast. And to please those children 
 I drank hot chocolate and melted my collar." 
 
 The girlishness and sweetness had gone from Erica's 
 face. Perhaps it had been too long exiled to endure any 
 strain. Her lip curled in its wonted way as she asked: 
 " Wasn't it rather thoughtless in Miss Melendy to take 
 Miss Cotton out in this heat? Of course she's a strap- 
 ping young person herself, but your daughter looks deli- 
 cate." 
 
 " Oh dear no, ma'am," he rejoined, " that little Miss 
 Melendy is the real thing. I believe I never before knew 
 any one of her age to be so thoughtful and unselfish. 
 She isn't above three years older than Nanny, yet in a 
 way she's like a mother to her. She's always looking 
 out for her, trying to keep her from being lonesome and 
 to rouse her interest in this and that. She seems to know 
 just what the child needs, which, I confess, her father 
 doesn't. I'm perfectly hopeless. Last night I felt right 
 down blue about her, she seemed to have so little strength ; 
 and here this morning she and Hank were talking about 
 pendants and trinkets as gay as chickadees, with a list 
 made out as to who gets what. And she's just that way 
 with every one, Miss Melendy is. She chaffs the others 
 a good bit, but they like it and her. Why, she even
 
 136 FIREWEED 
 
 mothers me. It was she that insisted about the choco- 
 late." 
 
 The mere mention of Miss Melendy had dissipated that 
 wonderful sense of well-being Erica had had from the 
 moment she had first seen Cotton coming towards her. 
 And when he let slip that chance but natural " Hank," 
 it seemed as if she could not bear it. She knew that she 
 was as foolish to venture now as she had been that day 
 in Paris when she had talked so flippantly or worse 
 to Nancy Cotton ; but she couldn't help it. Erica Man- 
 ners wasn't used to swallowing her ill humor. 
 
 " Of course I don't know Miss Melendy at all," she 
 observed coldly, " but dressing as she does gives one the 
 impression that she's rather bold." 
 
 Even before the last word was out of her mouth, a 
 wave of hot color flooded her face. The irony of it was 
 too keen. Good heavens ! what would he think of her ! 
 Fancy her characterizing any one as bold, particularly 
 when speaking to the man who three months earlier had 
 held her up to public contumely as the boldest of the 
 brazen. Surely, it was not for her to bandy such terms 
 as that. As the color died out, she set her lips and un- 
 consciously clenched her hands, bracing herself for a 
 scathing reply. 
 
 Which showed how little she knew the man beside her. 
 Caleb Cotton had not seen the flood of color, for at her 
 first word, which hurt him, his eyes had fallen to his 
 dusty shoes. Neither did he, even secretly, make the 
 application she apprehended. Both face and voice were 
 gentle as he protested. 
 
 " But somehow, when you know her, ma'am, it seems 
 just to suit Miss Melendy to dress that way. I think 
 most probably you are not aware that she means to study 
 to be a doctor? Surely, she won't need frills and fur- 
 belows then. And now to Nanny and me, Miss
 
 FIREWEED 137 
 
 Melendy looks right handsome in her jackets and cravats 
 and little waistcoats, and then " he smiled naively. 
 " Now she has pockets," he declared with an implied 
 appeal to her common sense. " I never could understand 
 why all women shouldn't have, don't you know. She car- 
 ries a jackknife, which is right convenient, and has a safe 
 place for her wallet. I never understand why ladies don't 
 lose their money as well as their pocket handkerchiefs, 
 which I am told they scatter to the four winds." 
 
 " Miss Budd carries hers in her stocking," returned 
 Erica demurely. 
 
 Cotton smiled. He looked, however, as if he had more 
 to say about Miss Melendy, and Erica hastened to ask if 
 he had had a chance to look into the Rubaiyat. 
 
 Cotton instantly produced the little volume from his 
 pocket, removing the neat cover in which he had envel- 
 oped it, bourgeois fashion, as he handed it to her. 
 
 " Thank you kindly, ma'am, I read it through several 
 times," he said. 
 
 Her eyes lighted. 
 
 " And you liked it ? " she asked so eagerly that his 
 answering voice was apologetic. He could never speak 
 aught but the exact truth, but his voice had the power of 
 making even unpalatable truth kindly and good to hear. 
 
 " I enjoyed reading it," he admitted. " It is right 
 musical and striking and melancholy. And yet, you know, 
 it's not sound, at least, not to my thinking. That chap 
 got below the surface, I grant you, but he never once 
 touched bottom." 
 
 Erica's eyes flashed. " Oh, but what of this ? " she 
 cried and quoted : 
 
 " ' What, without asking, hither hurried Whence ? 
 And without asking, Whither hurried hence? 
 
 Oh, many a cup of the forbidden wine 
 Must drown the memory of that insolence ! ' "
 
 138 FIREWEED 
 
 Moved by the rhythm, vaguely aware of an almost 
 lovely tone in her voice, Cotton looked at her with a 
 certain admiration in his eyes. 
 
 " Well, now, I confess I don't feel that the sentiment 
 is as strong as you plainly feel it to be," he owned reluc- 
 tantly. " Sounding lines, they are, I grant you, but they 
 seem to me not to be pitched in the right key. He doesn't 
 take his stand on a really lofty plane. Those lines are a 
 challenge, but that isn't heroism nor even genuine 
 strength. It isn't asking for more worlds to conquer. 
 It isn't voluntarily bracing one's shoulders to bear a 
 cross." 
 
 " No, it isn't that," she assented, impressed by his 
 earnestness, " but " she paused. At the moment she 
 didn't know what it was. 
 
 " I can't make myself feel that a strong man would 
 have so spoken," he went on, knitting his brow until 
 heavy lines came out. " I could easier see the strong man 
 as grateful to be fetched from eternity and set down in a 
 place where all the glory of struggle lies between him and 
 the mystery he faces. Insolence ! Oh, Mrs. Manners, it 
 isn't, believe me, a great soul that whines thus ! It isn't 
 a man. It's a cry-baby." 
 
 Erica gazed into the blue distance beyond the garden 
 wall, moved, as it might have seemed, out of all propor- 
 tion. Then she glanced rather shyly at the man before 
 her, with his massive brow lined with care, his thin face 
 worn in hollows by the struggle he himself had made 
 against odds, yet with his eyes shining with the ardor of 
 untried youth. Her eyes fell before them. She shrank 
 back, daunted for once. He seemed far away high 
 above her, standing on lofty heights, with a great yawning 
 gulf between him and such as she. 
 
 In the long pause which fell upon them, she considered 
 the words he had spoken, fearful of losing one syllable,
 
 FIREWEED 139 
 
 longing to retain them for days to come. And so doing, 
 she felt like a child whose toys are taken away and a 
 stern lesson-book substituted. So that, like such an one 
 that has concealed a favorite toy behind him and must 
 nedds bring forth that also, Erica yielded up hers. 
 
 " There's one other stanza I have always cared for 
 particularly. I wonder how you would feel about that ? " 
 she said in a low voice and with a curious, gentle humil- 
 ity. " It seems rather human and kind." 
 
 Her voice faltered here and there as she quoted the 
 second time : 
 
 " * Ah love ! could you and I with Him conspire 
 To grasp this sorry Scheme of things entire, 
 Would we not shatter it to bits and then 
 Remould it nearer to the heart's desire? ' ' 
 
 As he shook his head, Cotton smiled kindly. 
 
 " It wouldn't do at all," he said. " If we tried to re- 
 shape it to make it better for our fellow human beings, 
 we'd blunder sadly. If we did it truly after our heart's 
 desire, we shouldn't alter it. You know really we do 
 not hanker for flowery beds of ease. That's a big fal- 
 lacy. It's no such thing; we don't want flowery beds 
 of ease. Man isn't that sort of an animal. Ask a real 
 man any day which he would prefer : riding fifty or sixty 
 miles over smooth macadam roads in the easiest motor- 
 car on the market, or footing it, climbing for all he's 
 worth to the summit of a steep, trackless mountain. 
 Most any man would prefer the climb. The only ones 
 who wouldn't choose it would be those that didn't under- 
 stand themselves, didn't know what they really crave. 
 The poor are often fortunate in being forced to endure 
 hardship, for the rich are seldom canny enough to choose 
 it voluntarily. The longing for ease and pleasure isn't 
 natural to man. As far as my experience goes, the
 
 140 FIREWEED 
 
 opposite extreme, even martyrdom, appeals more strongly 
 to him. Of course I have known mostly plain people, 
 but the testimony of history confirms the conclusions I 
 have drawn from my observations, that there isn't really 
 a quarter part of the allurement in a crown that there is 
 in a cross." 
 
 Strange talk, indeed! Old-fashioned doctrine! But 
 in all her life, Erica Manners had never been so moved. 
 Stirred to the depths, she was conscious of a strange, a 
 thrilling excitement. She seemed to herself to have ex- 
 perienced an upheaval of her inner life. And she seemed 
 to be gazing upon the ruins with a sensation of intense 
 relief that might have been joy had it been less solemn. 
 She did not understand what had happened, could not 
 realize that she had discovered or had pointed out to 
 her the root of her lifelong malady. But even now 
 she knew dimly that she had a glimpse of a possible new 
 life that was fine, bracing, even heroic, a life that wasn't 
 beyond her aim, however it might be for her reach. 
 
 They sat silent for some minutes, Erica's eyes down- 
 cast. Then she rose. He stood beside her, looking down 
 from his great height. 
 
 " I think you are right, Mr. Cotton," she said slowly, 
 " and I am very grateful to you for saying it to me. 
 No one has ever spoken so to me before and I should 
 never discover fine, brave things like that for myself. 
 It is very good of you and it has given me a lot to 
 think of. And even now do you know " she raised 
 her eyes with a little half smile " even now, I feel as 
 if it might be why, rather good sport to to try 
 oh, I don't know what unless to foot it up the 
 mountain ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ERICA MANNERS read at a glance the meaning of the 
 look on Elizabeth Lancaster's face as she entered the 
 room; she was mentally bracing herself to endure 
 being bullied. Miss Lancaster might have looked so 
 any number of times before, and Erica's regard have been 
 uniformly careless. In any event, it was plain to-day, 
 and she caught her breath. 
 
 In a flash, she realized that that was what she had 
 been a bully. She had made life wretched for her 
 companion ever since they had left America. The real- 
 ization that she had become a person whose mere entrance 
 was indeed to be dreaded struck painfully upon her 
 exalted mood, and not less so her instinctive impulse to 
 say something sharp and hateful, to give Miss Lancas- 
 ter just what she apprehended. 
 
 It was quite unlike her to make the considerable effort 
 to conquer the impulse and to ask, pleasantly casual, what 
 Libby had been up to that morning. 
 
 Miss Lancaster responded pleasantly, implying that 
 Erica's graciousness was a matter of course. But Erica 
 knew half humorously, half irritably, that she suspected 
 the Greeks dona ferentes. Again, she swallowed the 
 bitter pill. 
 
 " That's a lot for one morning, sure," she remarked. 
 " However, if one feels well, one can do it easily. Now, 
 I begin to feel so much better myself, Libby. I have 
 been so " 
 
 141
 
 i 4 2 FIREWEED 
 
 Beginning to descant upon the wretched nervousness 
 she had suffered under, Erica checked herself. 
 
 " Never mind that," she began again. " At any rate, 
 I am going out more after this. After all, I don't mind 
 if I see things I have seen over and over again. And it is 
 rather absurd to come to Europe and confine oneself to 
 hotel gardens and railway carriages, isn't it? Like as 
 not I shall swing so far the other way that I shall even 
 take Mrs. Miles's favorite orientation jaunts!" 
 
 She laughed, half appealingly. Then she sighed. If 
 only she had gone straight to her room from that gracious 
 half hour in the garden ! But now she might as well 
 go on. 
 
 " There's a monastery across the river somewhere that 
 Aunt Rose and I visited when I was fifteen, that I think 
 you would like to see, Libby. Suppose we take a car- 
 riage and go this afternoon ? Would you like to ? " she 
 proposed. 
 
 Miss Lancaster's heart sank. She wanted to go to 
 Fiesole but without Mrs. Manners. 
 
 " Are you sure you feel able to do it, Erica ? " she pro- 
 tested feebly. 
 
 " Oh, yes indeed, Libby. As I remember it, it's rather 
 a lark. The carriage leaves us way down below some- 
 where, and we walk up a steep path with a hundred 
 steps, more or less, cut in the rock. Are you good 
 for it?" 
 
 Picking up a letter, which chanced to be from Stokes, 
 from the table, she balanced it absently on the palm of 
 her hand as if to ascertain its weight. 
 
 Miss Lancaster craned her long neck in her annoying 
 way. But Erica was determined she would not be an- 
 noyed. 
 
 " Well," Miss Lancaster remarked finally in a resigned 
 tone, " perhaps if we take it very easily, it won't be too
 
 FIREWEED 143 
 
 much of a strain on my ankle. But you, Erica ? I doubt 
 if you realize what an extremely hot day it is. Even 
 Hank Melendy crawfished, as they called it, out of going 
 to the mosaic works this morning, and she's supposed to 
 be the best sport of the whole bunch." 
 
 " Who said she was ? " demanded Erica, tearing the 
 letter into bits. 
 
 " The oracle." 
 
 " Who's the oracle ? " Erica inquired casually, though 
 she knew right well. 
 
 " Caleb Cotton, Esquire," said Miss Lancaster with 
 what seemed to Erica tiresome flippancy. She betook 
 herself abruptly into her own room and closed the door. 
 
 Dropping into a chair, she realized that all her false 
 elation had dissipated and she was nervous and irritable 
 even angry. Good Lord, what was the use ! What 
 was the use of anything! How absolutely absurd to be 
 going off in the heat to climb that fiendish hill in the 
 glaring sun and suffer a greedy old brother in greasy 
 white serge to lead them hither and thither and up and 
 down, finally vouchsafing, as a special touch of grace, a 
 glimpse through closed doors of other fat, dingy, greasy 
 monks mumbling their prayers into their hoods. And 
 why, pray, should one care to be called a good sport 
 even the best in the company? Even if she should go 
 to the Certosa this afternoon, and even if Mr. Cotton 
 should hear of it which was unlikely he wouldn't 
 probably attach any significance to it. He might think 
 it only a pose. 
 
 She buried her face in her hands, then uncovered it 
 hastily. Ah ! if only he did not know her so well ! If 
 only she were not dragged down by that wretched past 
 of hers ! Suppose she had met Cotton in Paris that morn- 
 ing for the first time, on a plain, fair footing? If they 
 could have encountered one another as strangers just
 
 144 FIREWEED 
 
 as he and the Melendy girl had done, what a difference it 
 must have made ! They could have become friends 
 unconventional friends, as he and Miss Melendy were, 
 he had called her Hank unawares when speaking of her. 
 After all, she, Erica, was lonely, terribly lonely, and there 
 was no use in pretending, he was truly very likable. 
 He was original and quaint and droll, and somehow, 
 he made things life seem worth while. 
 
 It would have been good for him, too, Erica declared, 
 very much as if she were contradicting some one, better 
 than for him to foregather constantly with the others. 
 She had had more experience than any one of them and 
 should have, correspondingly, more personality. Also, 
 she ought to have keener sense of humor and a more 
 practised if not a subtler intellect. In short, she was 
 more his kind. She wasn't, perhaps, many-sided enough 
 to satisfy the demands of his big, broad, deep nature; 
 but surely she could go further towards it than any of 
 the Burgess party. 
 
 Impotent, baffled, protesting, Erica Manners forced 
 back the tears that burned her lids, and rising, gazed 
 stonily out of the window. She saw only the gray plaster 
 walls of the house on the further side of the Via Magenta 
 which looked stern and forbidding. It was too late, she 
 told herself bitterly : everything was cut close at the root. 
 She might as well leave Italy at once. The sensible pro- 
 cedure for her was to make tracks for America and 
 resume with all speed her dreary existence of monotonous 
 days and endless nights, with Delia Holbrook as croaking 
 chorus, and Phil Stokes as perpetual gloomy suitor. That 
 would be purgatory, indeed ; even so it was preferable to 
 this nerve-racking struggle, which was hell itself. Erica 
 told herself she would announce her purpose to Miss 
 Lancaster at luncheon and get her to begin packing that 
 afternoon.
 
 FIREWEED 145 
 
 When she went into the sitting room, however, and 
 Miss Lancaster asked hesitatingly about ordering a car- 
 riage for the Certosa, she said simply that they would go 
 at four. 
 
 At the appointed hour, they drove down the shaded 
 street and turned into the glare of the piazza and the 
 bridge. Across the Arno, they threaded the narrow 
 streets and emerged upon the dusty, unshaded highway, 
 toiling slowly upward past villas and vineyards with mag- 
 nificent distances to right and left, climbing still up and 
 up until they reached the gate of entrance into the Car- 
 thusian territory. Here, they descended and dismissed 
 the driver. 
 
 As they drove, Erica had rambled on entertainingly of 
 her remembrance of her former visit. Miss Lancaster, 
 suspicious of her unwonted good humor, had been less 
 responsive than she would ordinarily have ventured to 
 be. As they were about to begin the steep ascent, she 
 looked vaguely over towards the Western horizon, though 
 only because that happened to be more clearly visible. 
 
 " I suppose they are doing Fiesole in great style," she 
 remarked in a non-committal tone that might have suited 
 almost any mood of her companion. 
 
 " I dare say. I shouldn't mind looking over from here 
 and seeing just what they're up to," Erica returned, al- 
 lowing her eyes to rest for some seconds upon the quarter 
 of the heavens that in reality hung over Fiesole. She 
 spoke quietly, puzzling Miss Lancaster as to her drift. 
 Secretly, saying they, she meant he; and half wistfully, 
 half bitterly, she wished it might be possible that he was 
 thinking of her at that moment, no matter how casually. 
 But she didn't flatter herself that there was any remote 
 chance of his wondering what she was up to. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Cotton had at that moment for- 
 gotten that such a person existed, even though he had
 
 i 4 6 FIREWEED 
 
 been emphatically reminded of her not many hours pre- 
 viously. 
 
 After Mrs. Manners had left him in the garden that 
 morning, he had mused for some little time upon their 
 conversation. Since he had come upon her in Paris, he 
 had found little difficulty in holding to the purpose he 
 had at once conceived of not reverting even in thought 
 to the past that was common to them. Believing it wiser 
 and more comfortable for both of them that they should 
 not come into unnecessary contact, though he had made 
 no effort to avoid her, he had been quite content that 
 circumstances had acted to keep them apart to a consid- 
 erable extent. When he had seen her, he had had need 
 at first to summon forth his charity ; but of late it had not 
 been called into play. Yet, up to within a few days, his 
 attitude towards her had been at best that of kindly 
 tolerance. 
 
 Of late, however, and to-day in particular, something 
 in her had appealed to his genuine interest. And now 
 he wondered if perchance he had not heretofore taken it 
 too much for granted that Mrs. Manners was hopelessly 
 spoiled, incurably selfish. Surely to-day he had felt in 
 her a reaching out towards something beyond herself, a 
 groping towards something different and not ignoble. 
 There had been something almost touching about that 
 last little speech. 
 
 He had known for some time that she had a singularly 
 bright mind; now he realized that she had a conscience, 
 however long it had remained in abeyance. If she had 
 had other upbringing, indeed, he could see how singularly 
 attractive she might have been. As it was, she was dif- 
 ferent from any woman he had ever known. 
 
 As to that, perhaps Caleb Cotton's field of comparison 
 was more limited than he was aware. He had, indeed, 
 known many women and a few intimately, but not of
 
 FIREWEED 147 
 
 late. Since his maturity the greater number of those 
 with whom he had to do had been the wronged or sinning 
 members of the sex who come before the courts. But 
 though that sufficed for the lawyer, there might be ques- 
 tion with regard to the man. 
 
 His mother, who had been his inspiration, had been a 
 fine, strong creature, pioneer daughter of pioneers, with- 
 out the family traditions of her husband, yet infinitely 
 superior to him and his. But she had died, worn out 
 prematurely by toil and drudgery shortly after he had 
 left home, when she was two-and-thirty and the boy 
 fourteen. 
 
 His wife, his pitying affection for whom he had taken 
 and still mistook for love, had been a distant rela- 
 tive on his father's side. Frail as a girl, she had been 
 a suffering, fretful invalid from the birth of their child 
 to the day of her death. He had devoted himself tire- 
 lessly to her, working to the limit of his extraordinary 
 strength to meet the constantly augmenting expenses of 
 the household. Pitying her weakness ever more and 
 more, never becoming callous to her constant complaints, 
 he had never ceased to strive to divert her, to help her 
 while away the weary hours and restless nights. And 
 when she had died, he had mourned her sadly, never real- 
 izing that what he missed was not the wife of his bosom, 
 but the daily care, the burden that had both bowed and 
 braced his shoulders. 
 
 Since coming East, the friends he had made were 
 wholly men. But joining the Burgess party, suddenly all 
 was reversed. He had been thrown into the company of 
 seven women, all but one of whom were from the Middle 
 West and represented the section, the speech and the 
 ways that meant home to him. And it had indeed been 
 like home-coming to his weary soul to be made so warmly 
 welcome by these kindly, genuine folk, to hear phrases
 
 i 4 8 FIREWEED 
 
 and intonations that recalled so vividly early friends and 
 neighbors and the associations of the plastic period of 
 youth, that it was a matter of a few days only before the 
 strange faces were gratefully familiar. 
 
 The squire of all the party, Caleb Cotton, when free 
 to choose, instinctively sought Miss Melendy's side. 
 They were attracted by the same things, were almost 
 equally tireless and possessed the abnormal power of 
 absorption sometimes found in the extravagantly unself- 
 ish. Furthermore, a common concern for Nancy united 
 them as the days passed. 
 
 His newly awakened interest in Mrs. Manners, however, 
 was in a category by itself, and he would have been at a 
 loss to explain it. His conclusion that she was different, 
 however, was sound so far as it went. Erica Manners was 
 different; there was an exquisite finish about her, not 
 only physical and material but also intellectual, above 
 that of any other woman he had ever known. She had 
 lived exquisitely all her life; and if, from the standpoint 
 of morals, she displayed the effects in an unfortunate 
 way, she showed them physically, on the contrary, in the 
 perfection of the physical, and intellectually, in a piquant 
 cleverness that in many instances outshone more solid 
 gifts. Furthermore, she possessed a something which 
 might easily in other circumstances have been charm, and 
 which, as it was, amounted to personality, and she exerted 
 herself to please him as she had never in all her life 
 exerted herself for any human being other than herself. 
 
 Some vague suggestion of all this came to Caleb Cot- 
 ton that day as he lingered in the garden until the lunch- 
 eon hour found him still in his unreadiness. But as he 
 began to go back in his mind and recall details, suddenly 
 he went too far, and all that past which he had hitherto 
 succeeded so well in disregarding came rushing back to 
 him. He grasped instinctively at his forgotten charity,
 
 FIREWEED 149 
 
 but even so, he defeated his own purpose. For he opened 
 his eyes, as it were, at just the wrong moment. As he 
 endeavored to steer aside from visions of the court-room, 
 something he had quite forgotten flashed involuntarily 
 and suddenly into full view, shooting across his mental 
 vision with the unexpectedness of a meteor; he recol- 
 lected the forgotten fact that there had been a child. 
 He remembered the baby that had died unloved and un- 
 mothered. And that remembrance came with a real, with 
 even a great shock. He did not realize that the circum- 
 stance seemed far worse now than it had formerly im- 
 pressed him. He made no distinction. But he was rilled 
 with a sternness of indignation that was almost contempt. 
 It was unfortunate for Mrs. Manners that it should 
 have come upon him at this moment, when he still seemed 
 to hear the regretful echoes of her voice lingering over 
 the complaint: 
 
 " And that same summer month that brings the rose 
 Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away." 
 
 And circumstance made it doubly unfortunate. For as 
 he bowed his head in a sort of dumb protest, he was 
 forced to raise it almost immediately by hearing his name 
 spoken by Dr. Burgess. 
 
 His face resumed its usual serenity; but perhaps he 
 felt called upon to explain his posture, for he smiled in 
 a somewhat rueful fashion as the other man joined him 
 on the bench where he had found Mrs. Manners. 
 
 " You know, Doctor, far better than I," he began, " that 
 there are certain facts that were understood to be facts 
 in the day of Jeremiah, which, nevertheless, every man 
 jack of us has to rediscover for himself. Human nature 
 is more inexplicable it's more contrary than a mule, 
 that's what it is! For example, I can never understand 
 why, having all the gifts of fortune and heritage, with
 
 1 5 o FIREWEED 
 
 all their attendant advantages, a person, a man, isn't 
 thereby the more of a man. Of course I have been told 
 from my childhood that prosperity is no sort of teacher. 
 I have seen with my own eyes that most people learn 
 through hardship and adversity, and that the straight and 
 narrow way is the safest to travel. And do you know, 
 for all that, I find I don't believe it yet. I am constantly 
 taken by surprise when one born with a golden spoon in 
 his mouth is spoiled by the taste of the metal. And yet 
 wouldn't it seem to be as fixed as an axiom of Euclid 
 that the principle of * Freely ye have received, freely 
 give ' should apply first of all to the prosperous ? And 
 as a matter of fact, it's commonly only the poor who take 
 it to themselves." 
 
 " It is certainly a perplexing subject," responded Dr. 
 Burgess in rather a perfunctory manner. He rose 
 abruptly from the seat. 
 
 " It's singular that I should find you thinking along 
 that line, however," he said less absently, " for it bears on 
 what I want to consult you about. Do you mind walking 
 up into the Cascine for a little? We shan't start until 
 half past three, so we can have a late lunch." 
 
 Cotton forgot his disheveled appearance, which was 
 really less noticeable than he thought, and agreed quietly. 
 They walked up the Via del Prato with its jingling trams, 
 passed under the arch at the head of the street, and on 
 into the broad walks of the Cascine. As they advanced, 
 the trees were fine and spreading and screened the sun, 
 but the air was oppressive and the absence of turf and 
 the appearance of the baked earth made it seem the hotter 
 and look bare and forlorn to the eyes of the Americans. 
 
 " I want your advice sorely," declared Dr. Burgess as 
 they struck into a path which led by a number of tennis 
 courts which seemed to be privately owned and probably 
 belonged to clubs. " I am not "
 
 FIREWEED 151 
 
 At that instant, a tennis ball came singing through the 
 air towards them like a bullet. Quick as a flash, Cotton 
 had reached out and caught it on the fly with his left 
 hand. Changing to the other, he tossed it nonchalantly 
 over the wall to an handsome Italian youth in white 
 flannels, whose face glowed with wonder and admiration 
 at the stranger's feat. 
 
 Dr. Burgess slapped him on the back. 
 
 " You are a brick, Cotton, and no mistake ! " he cried. 
 " And that was only your left hand. See here, I want 
 your right."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 " As I was saying, or as I was about to say," Dr. Bur- 
 gess resumed after the interruption, " I am not asking 
 you on the ground that the person in question, who is 
 Mrs. Manners, comes also from St. Vincent, but simply 
 because you are one of us, and because I rely absolutely 
 upon your judgment, as how should I not?" 
 
 Cotton uttered a slight interjection. 
 
 " Mrs. Manners ? " he repeated in a strange and inter- 
 rogatory, not to say deprecatory way. 
 
 " Yes, Cotton, Mrs. Manners. She doesn't seem to be 
 what we call in the West a mixer. She's rather a misfit 
 for our party." 
 
 " You don't say ! " Cotton remarked in his plebeian way 
 which would once have moved the lady in question to 
 scornful merriment. " I confess I am rather taken aback. 
 I sort of thought that the association was doing her 
 good. Do I understand you that she has been inding 
 fault?" 
 
 " Not exactly, but the long and the short of it is 
 that it was an unlucky day for our party when she joined. 
 You don't, I see, realize what's been going on. As a 
 matter of fact, during the time she has been with us, 
 Mrs. Manners has made herself persona non grata to 
 every other member of the party, with the possible excep- 
 tion of yourself and Miss Nancy." 
 
 " Just so," remarked Cotton with a tone at variance 
 with the words. " Unconsciously, you mean to infer? I 
 had the impression she rather tried to be agreeable." 
 
 152
 
 FIREWEED 153 
 
 " My dear Mr. Cotton, she has, I regret to say, not 
 only flatly rejected all friendly overtures but deliberately 
 gone out of her way to be rude to more than one of the 
 ladies. Two of them came to me last night to ask if 
 something could not be done about it before the whole 
 trip is spoiled because of one person." 
 
 It seemed inconceivable. But Dr. Burgess was author- 
 ity for it. And Cotton felt absolutely assured that if any 
 member of the original party had said Mrs. Manners was 
 rude, she must have been rude, indeed. At the same 
 time, he couldn't understand it. 
 
 Dr. Burgess waited a few moments rather expecting his 
 companion to speak. Then he went on. 
 
 " It is rather hard on the other ladies, you know, Cot- 
 ton. Some of them have earned the money for this holi- 
 day, and I believe all of them, with the exception of Miss 
 Melendy and Mrs. Miles, have saved for it with more or 
 less sacrifice. And I can't help feeling that they have 
 an especial right to be relieved of petty annoyance. Up 
 to the moment we took in the two strangers, this group 
 was the pleasantest party I ever had. They welcomed 
 Mrs. Manners into their midst with all kindness, per- 
 haps with effusiveness " he smiled rather grimly for 
 him " But she spurned their friendliness. She has 
 used the party as a convenience in getting about, but in 
 all her relations towards us she has been unpardonable. 
 Personally, I regretted it the day after I had taken her 
 in." 
 
 He drew out his watch, and seeing the hour, proposed 
 that they turn back. 
 
 " The question is," he said, " what's to be done about 
 it?" 
 
 Cotton's face was troubled, even pained. But he spoke 
 without hesitation. 
 
 " Well, now, Doctor, it's certainly a great pity, but so
 
 154 FIREWEED 
 
 far as I can see, there's only one thing to do. You have 
 only to say to Mrs. Manners that it seems to be against 
 the best interests of the party that she should continue as 
 a member of it. It isn't at all, you know, as it would be 
 if she had had to earn her money, or as if she hadn't 
 a-plenty more, and more than a-plenty. And it isn't as if 
 she were alone. She has her nurse, who has been with 
 her, I believe, for some little time and suits her to a T, 
 and who seems to be perfectly chipper again now. Fur- 
 thermore, Mrs. Manners is herself a capable woman of 
 the world. And if she still wishes to be conducted, why, 
 there's no end of those tourist chaps that will be glad of 
 the job." 
 
 A great burden seemed to roll from Dr. Burgess's 
 shoulders. He had apprehended that Cotton's good 
 humor and his abounding charity would plead for Mrs. 
 Manners, the more that she stood alone with all the others 
 arrayed against her. His expression changed so quickly 
 that his handsome, florid face was almost jubilant. 
 
 " Of course, Cotton. Of course. You're just right as 
 you always are ! " he exclaimed warmly. 
 
 "Come now, Doctor, between ourselves," pleaded Cot- 
 ton in his droll fashion. 
 
 " I can simply inform Mrs. Manners that my specialty 
 is people who come abroad for the first time," the clergy- 
 man went on, thinking aloud in an eager manner that 
 showed his relief. " I only pretend to give a very general 
 introduction to Europe. I can't take my parties behind 
 the scenes as one should who presumes to guide real 
 travelers. I shall be only too glad to look up a courier 
 for her and to make no charges for my services up to 
 this time. I consider I am getting out of it easily at 
 that." 
 
 As they passed under the arch, he took off his hat and 
 mopped his brow.
 
 FIREWEED 155 
 
 " I am more than relieved and correspondingly grateful 
 to you, Mr. Cotton," he declared. " I was prepared to 
 act in any way you might propose, but I confess I am well 
 content that you should have acquiesced in my instinctive 
 decision. I never had any real unpleasantness before in 
 any party I have conducted ; and as I said, I never had a 
 group of people I liked better or wished more to please. 
 I shall put this through at my first opportunity. I should 
 be glad to get it off my mind before I get to bed to-night."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE others, who had come by tram, were at the church 
 across the square. Miss Melendy and the Cottons, who 
 had come in a carriage because of Nancy, sat at a rickety 
 table in a rather untidy garden on a terrace overlooking a 
 wonder of hillside, valley and distant blue mountains. 
 Miss Melendy and Cotton had eaten two ices each which 
 they declared they wouldn't have looked at back home 
 but Nancy's first was almost untouched. And Nancy 
 made no comparisons. Had hers been ambrosia, it would 
 have been the same. She could not have tasted it. 
 
 " Honey, couldn't you manage to worry just a mite of 
 it down for the sake of the coolness and the wetness ? " 
 urged her father. " Why, when you were a little thing 
 back in Buell, you would have beaten me eating ice cream 
 any day if Cousin Abby hadn't been so fearful of letting 
 you have all you wanted." 
 
 " Fiesole is so lovely, pappy, and this is such a sweet 
 spot," said Nancy with a little catch of her breath, " that 
 I reckon it is enough to take away one's appetite, isn't 
 it, Hank?" 
 
 " Sure," Hank asseverated, looking into the sweet face 
 shaded by the big floppy hat they had bought in Paris. 
 What a picture the girl made with her big eyes and lovely 
 mournful face, sitting at the edge of this lofty terrace 
 with the panorama of Tuscany beyond. If only What's- 
 his-name could see her now ! Could even a Stokes have 
 resisted? Could any mortal in his senses prefer Mrs. 
 Manners ? 
 
 156
 
 FIREWEED^ 157 
 
 " Don't try to force it down her, Mr. Cotton, it cer- 
 tainly is bum," she went on in her inelegant way. " But 
 if you are really done, Nanny-goat, shall we walk on a 
 bit?" 
 
 " Oh, Hank, won't you and pappy please go on and 
 leave me here ? " Nancy begged. " I'll sit and look at the 
 hills and you can take all the time you want. Honestly, 
 I would rather let this sink into my mind than see any- 
 thing more." 
 
 Again Miss Melendy decided that she should do as she 
 liked. After Cotton had made her comfortable on a 
 bench in the shade of the shop building, he and Miss 
 Melendy strolled out into the square, pausing with one 
 accord before the pair of equestrian statues in the center, 
 where Victor Emanuel II eternally holds the hand of 
 Garibaldi in his own firm grasp. Cotton stood long, his 
 hat tucked under his arm, gazing at his hero, absolutely 
 lost to all about him. Miss Melendy, truly interested and 
 affected, nevertheless after a little shifted her gaze, 
 though without turning her head nor moving, to study 
 her companion's face. 
 
 He had looked more tired this afternoon than she had 
 ever seen him before. As he had left Nancy a few mo- 
 ments since, his brow was deeply furrowed. Now it 
 was serene, though it hardly seemed possible that lines 
 so deep could have straightened out so magically. The 
 far-away look in his blue eyes was made up of wonder 
 and reverence and tenderness, and his big, ugly mouth had 
 what seemed to the girl strange beauty of expression. 
 The man was transformed by the potency of his spiritual 
 imagination. On a sudden, Hank Melendy turned her 
 head. Her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 Perhaps the motion recalled him, for presently he 
 asked her if they should go on. Taking the direction he 
 believed the others to have taken, they crossed the square
 
 i 5 8 , FIREWEED 
 
 diagonally towards the left, turned into a street leading 
 by the church and followed the road it shortly became, 
 neither speaking until they had gone some little distance. 
 As they climbed the long, winding hill, the wall at their 
 left formed a parapet above a sheer green precipice where 
 olive trees found a precarious foothold above an orchard 
 that sloped far down into the green bowl of the valley. 
 Beyond that they looked at circles of hills shading from 
 green to blue and rising higher and higher as they 
 stretched to the far horizon. At their right, were the 
 walls of villas and gardens. 
 
 But Cotton was still in the piazza.. 
 
 " Somehow, that alone seems worth coming across the 
 world to see, doesn't it, Miss Melendy?" he said with 
 warm feeling. " There's a world of meaning in those 
 clasped hands." 
 
 " I suppose you know ' Oh, East is East and West is 
 West ' ? " she asked shyly. 
 
 He shook his head. " No, Miss Melendy, I'm a back 
 number so far as poetry is concerned." And he sighed, 
 for the mention of poetry made him feel vaguely uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 Miss Melendy sighed too, then frowned. Then she 
 repeated or rather blurted out the verses in rather a 
 wooden fashion. Ordinarily not at all shy, she was 
 embarrassed in quoting poetry, and her boyish voice was 
 brusque and jerky. But Cotton was so impressed by the 
 sentiment, that he asked her to repeat it, and the second 
 time she did the verses less injustice. 
 
 Afterwards, when he recalled it, Cotton decided that 
 he liked the way the girl recited poetry better than that 
 of the elegant and eloquent Mrs. Manners. But he 
 wasn't sure he would have thought of comparing them 
 if he hadn't heard what he had from Dr. Burgess. In 
 any event, he considered the girl's shyness in the presence
 
 FIREWEED 159 
 
 of noble sentiment as a becoming and grateful tribute, as 
 well as another indication of her being " true-blue " in 
 every particular. 
 
 Any such intimation would have meant much to Miss 
 Melendy. As it was, however, she was quite content 
 with his word of simple thanks and with his appreciation 
 of the stanza. She was not thinking of herself nor of 
 the effect she might make, and was more than satisfied to 
 have been able to give any slight gratification to one who 
 gave so constantly and so lavishly of his rich treasure. 
 
 Moreover, her mind was divided. She had set her- 
 self a task to perform and she could not rest until it was 
 off her mind. She rather hated to use this precious 
 time, but if she could so manage it as to spoil only her 
 own enjoyment and not interrupt Cotton's, she would 
 be content. 
 
 She had decided that there was nothing else to do but 
 to inquire of Cotton himself concerning the mysterious 
 Stokes. She could at least learn from him whether 
 Nancy knew him. The sight of a figure before them on 
 the white road reminded her that the others might be 
 upon them at any moment. Cotton paused to get a spray 
 of leaves for Nancy from one of the silvery olives whose 
 top was just below the level of the wall. She determined 
 to have the matter over as soon as might be. 
 
 " Oh, by the way, Mr. Cotton," she remarked as he 
 overtook her, " a friend Mrs. Miles called on the other 
 goodness me, don't tell me it was only last night, for it 
 couldn't be." 
 
 " Mrs. Miles was certainly making some call or other 
 last night," he observed. " But there's certainly some- 
 thing uncanny about the length of this particular day. 
 For my part, I should say it had been twenty-five hours 
 at the very least since sunrise." 
 
 His smile was less droll than usual. There was some-
 
 160 FIREWEED 
 
 thing weary and rueful about it. Miss Melendy had to 
 pluck up more spirit before she could go on. 
 
 " Anyhow, the point I wished to make was this," she 
 said. " This lady she saw at the hotel in the Via Torna- 
 buoni was speaking of a young man who comes from 
 your home, St. Vincent. I thought he might be a 
 neighbor, perhaps. Do you happen to know a Mr. 
 Stokes?" 
 
 As his face lighted up, the girl felt like a villain. 
 
 " Indeed I do, Miss Melendy; he's the junior member 
 of our firm," he exclaimed. " He's a right fine fellow, 
 Phil Stokes is, and a great favorite at our home." 
 
 Miss Melendy's eye sought the farthest rim of pale 
 violet hills. 
 
 " Is he anywhere near Nancy's age ? " she asked 
 lamely without looking at her companion. 
 
 " Bless you, no, Miss Melendy ; he's twice Nanny's 
 age, I shouldn't wonder. The truth is, though again I'm 
 twice as old as he, or thereabouts, he is rather a chum of 
 mine. He is our neighbor he's the most neighborly 
 among our new friends, and I take solid comfort in his 
 visits. Nanny likes him first rate, too, though to her 
 young eyes he appears something of an hoary oracle, you 
 know. He gave her a book to read on the steamer he 
 takes a very kindly interest in her and the child cher- 
 ishes that book as if it were a Bible or prayer-book." 
 
 She turned quickly from his smile, and paused a few 
 moments to gaze through a little pierced bell tower 
 against the deep blue Tuscan sky. 
 
 " I suppose he Mr. Stokes has a future before him ? " 
 she asked as they went on. 
 
 Cotton's brow clouded. But it never occurred to him 
 that her interest in the stranger was singular. 
 
 " You know, Miss Melendy, that's the hard part of it, 
 I am afraid he hasn't much of a future ahead of him.
 
 FIREWEED 161 
 
 I can speak of it to you as I wouldn't to any one who 
 knows him, or even to Nanny. Phil Stokes is bright 
 he's brilliant, indeed, accomplished and thoughtful. He 
 might, I believe, reach almost any height in the law ; but 
 he hasn't the least particle of ambition." 
 
 " In other words, he's no hustler." 
 
 "He's no hustler." 
 
 " I suppose," she opined, " things have come too much 
 his way ? " 
 
 " Exactly. You have hit it exactly, Miss Melendy. 
 They have, indeed, all but one thing. Stokes never 
 learned, as most of us have to, to do without anything 
 he happened to fancy, and when as a man something 
 came up that he wanted very much and couldn't have, 
 he didn't know how to meet the situation. And if he 
 couldn't have that, he didn't want anything. I begin to 
 fear that it has spoiled his life for good, though I don't 
 like to believe it's hopeless yet." 
 
 By now they had left the handsome villas, standing 
 well apart with their gardens, at their right, far behind 
 them. The way narrowed as they approached a little 
 group of peasant cottages making a tiny settlement about 
 a double bend in the road. Miss Melendy had one more 
 question to put, after which, she thanked heaven, she 
 would be through playing the hypocrite. The girl hated 
 and had always hitherto avoided anything faintly re- 
 sembling double dealing, and though this was all for 
 Nancy, it was extremely repugnant to her. And in asking 
 this last question, she felt that she was really abominable. 
 She had never before felt anything approaching fear of 
 Cotton; but now it seemed to her that if he should be 
 indignant at her prying it would kill her. 
 
 " I rather wondered " she began, then stopped, for 
 she hadn't wondered. She began again and succeeded 
 in avoiding 'direct untruth, though she knew all the
 
 162 FIREWEED 
 
 while that her intention to deceive was quite as reprehen- 
 sible. 
 
 " This lady I forget her name mentioned Mrs. 
 Manners also and said that they she and Mr. Stokes 
 were acquainted. Do you think it might be a polite 
 thing for Mrs. Miles to mention it to Mrs. Manners? " 
 
 " Oh, no, Miss Melendy, I wouldn't have her do that," 
 he responded so quickly that there was no more to be 
 said. It was Stokes, then. Her questions were an- 
 swered. She felt like a double-dyed wretch, but she 
 didn't care ! Miss Melendy said to herself she was going 
 to forget everything and make the most of what remained 
 of the day and the place. 
 
 The westering sun made the remnant the loveliest part 
 of the day. As for the place, just here it was ttirty, 
 and unpleasant odors stained the air, but it was very 
 picturesque. On the left, the declivity continued, though 
 the olives and much of the nearer greenness were gone. 
 On the right, stone-flagged paths led to tiny cottages ap- 
 proached by steep flights of steps which alternated with 
 others which bordered directly on the road without so 
 much as a threshold. Groups of happy, untidy women, 
 children and infants were gathered on the steps and in 
 doorways, slouching, sprawling, chattering and laughing 
 gaily. There was no sign of industry anywhere until 
 they came to a forge perched on the edge of the cliff at 
 the left in the elbow of the second curve, with a glow 
 from the anvil where a stout old man was shaping a bar 
 of iron, and at a few rods distance on the level, a woman 
 plaiting straw on a curious hand-machine. 
 
 The woman sat full in the glare of the sun, and they 
 saw that she was blind and working by touch. She was 
 so neglected-looking and filthy that Miss Melendy, though 
 filled with pity, shrank back in involuntary loathing. 
 But Cotton stopped and spoke gently to her, helped her
 
 FIREWEED 163 
 
 to rise, moved the machine and the chair back into the 
 shade and led her gently to it, speaking English all the 
 while, but so gently and chivalrously that the woman 
 understood and poured out her gratitude in an incoherent 
 flood of Italian. 
 
 And Miss Melendy, who was gazing across the deep 
 valley to the white villas dotting the hillsides beyond, was 
 saying under her breath : " Oh, why will you do such 
 things? Why will you? Please don't. Don't make me 
 care don't make me lose my interest in things so 
 that I'll be another Stokes and not care about my career. 
 I could stand certain things, you know if only you 
 wouldn't do the funny, dear, absurd sort of things that 
 no one else in all the world would dream of doing. I'm 
 proof against common goodness, but your sort " 
 
 Which shows that Miss Melendy was forewarned. 
 
 As he joined her, she reminded him that it was getting 
 late for Nancy, and they turned. He stopped to give a 
 piece of money to the smith, making him understand that 
 he was to move the woman into the shade in requital. 
 As he drew out his huge silver watch, he uttered an 
 exclamation. 
 
 " Nancy won't mind," she said rather softly. 
 
 " You're mighty good to my daughter, Miss Melendy," 
 he said suddenly and a bit shyly. " I hope you under- 
 stand something of what it means to me ? " 
 
 " Nonsense," said Hank. " Look, Mr. Cotton, will you 
 see that beast ! " 
 
 A tiny donkey, loose on the road, had stopped to help 
 himself to a sprig of garlic from an open window. 
 
 " No nonsense about it," he declared. " Upon my 
 word, Miss Melendy, I never before knew a young per- 
 son to be so thoughtful. It has made me wonder I 
 hope no great sorrow has come into your life? " 
 
 " No, Mr. Cotton, I have had smooth sailing," she re-
 
 164 FIREWEED 
 
 turned, adding " as yet," with a sudden curious coldness 
 at her heart as if of premonition. Perhaps it hadn't 
 after all been forewarning. 
 
 " I was too young to feel my mother's death, and dad 
 and Aunt Mary have never allowed me to miss her 
 they have just lavished things on me," she continued. 
 
 " Then it's just a happy combination of elements in 
 you that has given you qualities that commonly come with 
 maturity, and seldom without sorrow and pain," he said 
 simply. " I'm right glad for you that this is so, Miss 
 Melendy. It's an handsome equipment for life. Get 
 your medical education, and you'll make such a doctor 
 that I reckon your mother up in heaven will feel joy 
 for it." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton," the girl protested through sudden 
 tears, " please don't. I'm quite helpless." 
 
 Reaching the square, they paused briefly. 
 
 " It would be mighty hard to leave these parts if we 
 hadn't Rome before us, wouldn't it ? " he exclaimed, the 
 light of adventure very brilliant in his eyes. " Aren't 
 you just hungry for Rome? Doesn't it sometimes seem 
 as if you couldn't wait, even in the midst of the very 
 richest treasures that aren't Rome ? " 
 
 " Sure it does at this very minute," said Hank with 
 her own blithe, boyish smile. And she offered to fetch 
 Nancy and leave him there with Garibaldi. As she went, 
 she heard him repeating the verses from Kipling. And 
 she lingered long enough to know that he had them letter 
 perfect. 
 
 Driving back to Florence, they had a beautiful view of 
 the city the earlier part of the way. Then the road was 
 shut in on both sides almost tunnel-wise by high walls 
 above which nothing was visible except trees and tall 
 shrubbery. But rounding the curves, they looked back, 
 directed by Cotton, who faced that way, to see that be-
 
 FIREWEED 165 
 
 yond the walls, stately villas, standing high above gar- 
 dens and parks, bordered the way on both sides. Fur- 
 ther on, they met laborers toiling home at the close of 
 the long summer day, the more part walking, a few in 
 donkey carts. Later, there were handsome carriages 
 drawn by high-bred horses, and they got their first 
 glimpses of the Florentine aristocracy. There were beau- 
 tiful children and fair young girls; but the stout, ugly, 
 overdressed women in immense plumed hats were so 
 strikingly in contrast that Miss Melendy declared they 
 were haloed by interrogation points. 
 
 The steep descent became precipitous, but their stout 
 little horses were sure-footed as mountain goats. The 
 shadows had lengthened gradually on the heights, and 
 after they had crossed the railway tracks and turned into 
 the narrow side streets, it was already dusk. 
 
 But daylight still lingered in the piazza before the 
 Duomo, which, shining rosy and white in the pearly even- 
 ing glow, seemed more than ever something apart from 
 the busy life of the city, yet its true center and its soul. 
 Miss Melendy proposed that they should get out and go in. 
 
 The day had been long and difficult, but its close was 
 so serene and comforting that she wished to prolong it, 
 or perhaps to consecrate it. Cotton's face showed how 
 grateful the proposal was to him, and Nancy was always 
 glad to carry her burdened heart to a shrine. They dis- 
 missed the carriage, and crossed the piazza, and entered. 
 
 Within, it was as lovely and peaceful as Miss Melendy 
 had anticipated. She felt, too, that the father and daugh- 
 ter found it grateful. The pity of it was that when 
 they emerged, in silent, serene companionship, a chance 
 word spoiled it all. 
 
 They strolled slowly and silently through the Via de 
 Proconsolo into the Piazza della Signoria. The sky was 
 softly purple and gold and misty blue, the old historic
 
 166 FIREWEED 
 
 spot full of mystery and romance. Why it should have 
 recalled to Cotton just the wrong thing, Miss Melendy 
 couldn't understand. 
 
 His face lighted suddenly as he turned to Nancy. 
 
 " Oh, honey, what do you think ! " he cried, " Miss 
 Melendy says Mrs. Miles saw a lady last night who knows 
 a very good friend of ours. Who do you suppose it is ? " 
 
 Nancy grew very white. 
 
 " Back home ? " she faltered. 
 
 " No, honey, just plain home." 
 
 " Oh, pappy, I don't know. Please tell me ! " cried 
 Nancy in such a distressed tone that Miss Melendy won- 
 dered how her father could be so blind and deaf. 
 
 " Phil Stokes ! " he returned genially. " Now doesn't 
 that seem singular and good ! " 
 
 Miss Melendy tucked her arm under Nancy's and spoke 
 quickly. 
 
 " Here's a first rate chance for Buddy to get in her 
 stock remark about the world's being small, after all, 
 though I, for one, could never see why they always 
 append that after all," she remarked. " But Lord love 
 us, friends, it's getting late and here we are way off here. 
 I vote we take a cab, after all. Nan's tired and I want 
 a chance to wash up. The others will be at the table 
 with shining evening faces promptly at eight." 
 
 As a matter of fact, they were all in their places when 
 Miss Melendy appeared in fresh white linen with her 
 scarlet tie with two minutes to spare. Miss Little could 
 scarcely wait until Miss Melendy had seated herself at 
 her side. 
 
 " Oh, Hank, what have you heard from the doctor ? " 
 she whispered. 
 
 For a moment Hank didn't even understand what she 
 meant. 
 
 " For the love of Mike, I had forgotten all about the
 
 FIREWEED 167 
 
 blooming thing ! " she confessed. " But he wasn't to tell 
 us anyhow until this evening." 
 
 Although worn almost beyond anything she had ever 
 experienced by the emotional strain of the long, hot day, 
 the girl sought out Miss Cameron directly after dinner. 
 The two thought best to wait in the drawing-room where 
 Dr. Burgess, who had disappeared before sweets came 
 on, could find them easily if he desired to report to them.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 POLITE and deferential as he was, Dr. Burgess knew 
 how to be firm, and though he had chosen his language 
 carefully, when he left Mrs. Manners that night after a 
 short interview, she knew as definitely as if he had said 
 it in so many words that she had been asked to withdraw 
 from the Burgess party because the other members had 
 not found her an agreeable addition. She, Erica Ericson 
 Manners, who had all her life picked and chosen and 
 rejected at her will, had been ostracized, exiled, expelled 
 by a group of Hoosier nobodies ! 
 
 Throughout the interview, Erica was haughty and 
 frigid and insolent if not directly rude. She declared her- 
 self ready to sever relations at once and scorned his prof- 
 fered assistance. There was, therefore, nothing to do, 
 after the door had closed behind him, but to summon 
 forth Miss Lancaster and announce the decision to her 
 at once. 
 
 It was a bitter pill indeed. Erica wished with all her 
 heart she had carried out her intention at noon that day 
 and bidden her companion begin packing. She might, 
 of course, make the declaration now, and Miss Lancaster 
 might never know the truth. But though formerly she 
 would not have hesitated so to spare herself, to-day, Erica 
 dismissed the thought haughtily. Calling Miss Lancas- 
 ter, she stated the bald fact laconically. 
 
 Miss Lancaster was genuinely amazed. For once, she 
 
 1 68
 
 FIREWEED 169 
 
 could not fully express her incredulity. Such proceeding 
 was actually unknown in her experience. She hadn't 
 supposed it to be possible that one who controlled one's 
 hundreds of thousands could suffer any slightest indig- 
 nity, least of all such a shocking one as this. As soon 
 as she could find words, she was vociferous in her in- 
 credulous indignation, laying it all to spite on the part of 
 the instigators, of whom she declared Miss Melendy was 
 probably chief. 
 
 Erica paid her more than her wonted attention. She 
 listened over-zealously, indeed, striving to gain solace 
 from her words. But somehow, strong as they were, it 
 was cold comfort. Somehow her allegations didn't carry 
 conviction, or else they bore the wrong sort. She sat like 
 a stone for a time, then retired into her own room without 
 a word and did not reappear. And Miss Lancaster did 
 not venture even to knock to ask if she wished massage. 
 
 Erica Manners had complained, and not without 
 ground, of wretched, wakeful nights; but on this night, 
 when she had in all less than an hour of forgetfulness, 
 she found it quite another experience. Contrary to her 
 wont, however, she did not disturb her companion's sleep. 
 When she changed restlessly from bed to arm-chair and 
 back again, she was very quiet in her movements. And 
 whether this was because her attitude toward Miss Lan- 
 caster had become somewhat less thoughtless, or because 
 she didn't want to be reminded of her presence, probably 
 she didn't herself know. 
 
 The stony numbness, incident to the total unexpected- 
 ness of the blow she had received, being over, her brain 
 began to work excitedly. Yes, she said to herself again, 
 Libby was right. It was Miss Melendy who had done 
 this underhand thing. The others, who weren't Vbove it, 
 were incapable of initiating anything but would follow 
 like huddled sheep. Erica wondered how the minx had
 
 1 7 o FIRE WEED 
 
 brought it about. Had she called a meeting or asked old 
 Burgess to do so, and demanded a solemn vote? All in 
 favor? A female volley of ayes. All opposed? Dead 
 silence. The ayes have it. For of course no voice would 
 have opposed her impeachment, least of all Mr. Cotton's. 
 No doubt he had been the first one consulted as to the 
 matter. He had quite likely prescribed the proper for- 
 malities. 
 
 And it was only this morning that he had seemed 
 friendly, really friendly. And he had known of this 
 all the while. But somehow, Erica couldn't accuse him 
 of insincerity. Perhaps he forgot who it was he was 
 talking to, now she considered it, he hadn't been very 
 personal. He had simply been talking to Anyone. She 
 might have been a man or a woman with crossed eyes and 
 an hump, and it would have been the same to him. 
 
 Even so, he had made her want to cry and had almost 
 made her want to be different. Well ! she certainly 
 would never again feel any inclination to try to be dif- 
 ferent to be good, there! she might as well say it 
 plainly. More likely, she would become definitely bad. 
 She would go to the devil, and it would be old Burgess's 
 fault. No, it would be his Caleb Cotton's. One word 
 from him would have had them all at his feet. But he 
 wouldn't speak it. Who said that man was tender- 
 hearted ? He was as hard as the nether millstone ! 
 
 Well, suppose he was! What did she care? She 
 wouldn't come in contact with him any more. She might 
 never see him again after she left the party. Certainly 
 she would never But suddenly Erica's heart failed 
 her. Wrath, which had supported her up to this moment 
 gave way to utter wretchedness. Throwing herself prone 
 upon the bed, she burst into tears. She wept silently, 
 bitterly, for the first time since her early girlhood. 
 
 Nancy Cotton was reserved even in her inmost heart.
 
 FIREWEED 171 
 
 But Erica Manners was quite another person. Even as 
 the realization came to her, she voiced it, put it into 
 actual words. She cried out, within herself, that she 
 could not live without seeing Caleb Cotton frequently, 
 yes, daily. It would be like death to be cut off from the 
 sight of him, from the opportunity of those chance meet- 
 ings with him. She would far rather die than be ban- 
 ished from his presence. 
 
 Even now, however, Erica did not wholly understand. 
 Prematurely sophisticated, she had babbled of love from 
 her early girlhood; she had discussed the intricacies of 
 love and lovers with her little coterie of friends and 
 lovers. But she had never before experienced the real 
 passion, and with all her wisdom, she did not recognize 
 it. This fierce, wild longing, this utter craving, this bitter 
 anguish at the thought of separation from another, must 
 interpret itself to her eventually, but that was not to be 
 until she had undergone a night of torture and the suc- 
 ceeding day of agony. It was to come to her, indeed, 
 only after an interview with Cotton himself. 
 
 The following evening she sent a note to him asking 
 him to come to her sitting-room. 
 
 The messenger found the lawyer in his room. As he 
 put aside the pipe he had been about to light, he sighed, 
 but not because he was tired, though he truly was. Early 
 that morning Nancy had fainted, and though she was 
 better, she remained weak still. He had left her just 
 now in Miss Melendy's company. 
 
 He did not mind losing or postponing his pipe, which 
 Miss Melendy had sent him out to smoke. (Mrs. Bur- 
 gess objected to the odor of tobacco and he seldom in- 
 dulged.) But he dreaded the meeting. Dr. Burgess had 
 told him that he had spoken to Mrs. Manners, and all day, 
 in the midst of his own anxiety, he had felt vaguely sorry 
 for her. As he presented himself at her door, he said
 
 172 FIREWEED 
 
 to himself hopefully that doubtless she wished to consult 
 him with regard to some detail of travel. 
 
 Mrs. Manners was alone. She had not left her rooms 
 all day but was elegantly dressed in a faint blue evening 
 gown, which, though it made her pallor the more con- 
 spicuous, rather suited her. Despite her wretchedness, 
 she was not unconscious of the fact; but she was of 
 course quite unaware that to Cotton she looked older by 
 ten years than she had appeared yesterday, and worn, 
 as if she had grown thin in a night. In truth, for the 
 first time in her life, Erica merited the term she had so 
 dreaded she was haggard. But she had never before 
 been so deeply stirred nor by such genuine emotion. 
 Remarking this at his first glance, Cotton's mind involun- 
 tarily traveled straight back to that dingy court-room to 
 the figure of his late client, sitting with bowed head, with 
 that terrible blue-whiteness about the temples. 
 
 It was probably that recollection that made him rather 
 surprised to be greeted by Mrs. Manners almost as if he 
 were an old friend, though their last interview had, 
 indeed, been rather cordial. 
 
 He didn't take the chair she had meant for him, nor 
 note that she grew a shade whiter. 
 
 " It's awfully kind of you to come, Mr. Cotton," she 
 said rather humbly. " I suppose you know why I asked 
 you?" 
 
 His honest eyes fell. The chair he had taken was 
 too low, so that his knees stood out awkwardly. The 
 toes of his big shoes were on an exact level with a line 
 in the figured carpet. 
 
 " I reckon," he began, then raised his eyes. " Well, 
 no, Mrs. Manners, I don't really know, and if I were to 
 guess, I might be quite wrong," he said with some em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 " But if you were to guess? " she persisted, and worn
 
 FIRE WEED 173 
 
 as she was, and anxious, she did not speak without 
 coquetry, " what would it be ? " 
 
 " Suppose you up and tell me, Mrs. Manners," he pro- 
 posed quietly. " My horse trading days are too far in 
 the past for me to take any odds now. You just tell me, 
 if you please, if there's any way in which I can serve 
 you." 
 
 How hard he was! Erica clasped her hands tightly. 
 For a little she could not trust her voice to speak. 
 Then she spoke abruptly and quite without affecta- 
 tion. 
 
 " You understand that Burgess has turned us out, Miss 
 Lancaster and me ? " she demanded with a little break 
 in her angry voice. 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Manners, I hardly take it in that way," 
 he returned in a troubled voice. " Didn't the doctor mean 
 that he wasn't the right guide for one who has traveled 
 about so much as you, and that we Hoosiers, who have 
 never been far outside our door-yards before, and want 
 to poke our noses into everything, aren't the right sort of 
 companions for you? Lots of people would feel just 
 so. Why Stokes even warned me against folk I might 
 encounter in a hit-or-miss party, as if I couldn't put up 
 with any one that could stand the like o' me ! " 
 
 Erica flushed. 
 
 " Well, if Burgess thought that, why couldn't he wait 
 for me to say it ? " she cried hotly. 
 
 His eyes were still troubled, but he spoke calmly. 
 
 " Well, now, do you know, I think the doctor thought 
 you did say just that, and pretty plainly in actions. I 
 haven't happened to see you much with the others, but I 
 can understand how he might have come to feel that you 
 would be happier among people who were more like those 
 whom you have been accustomed to." 
 
 Again she flushed and more deeply.
 
 I 7 4 FIREWEED 
 
 "In other words, he considers me a snob?" she de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Indeed, Mrs. Manners, I don't think you ought to say 
 that," he protested. 
 
 " But you think I'm one yourself ? " 
 
 She looked straight into his clear, steady, honest, deep- 
 blue eyes, her own deepened by excitement and emotion. 
 
 " I don't know you sufficiently well to pronounce judg- 
 ment," he said quietly. 
 
 " But you think I have acted like one since I 
 joined this party?" 
 
 " It isn't my place to judge you," he declared. " I 
 have seen you only rarely, you know. As far as " 
 
 He paused. After all, he couldn't absolve her in any 
 respect, much as he would have liked to say something to 
 soothe her wounded spirit. There would have been ex- 
 cuse for her if she had been rude to him ; but there was no 
 shadow of excuse for one who had deliberately offended 
 his old friend Annabel Miles, the kindest soul in the 
 world. 
 
 " I think perhaps the mistake lay in your coming in 
 with us, a party of Westerners, and you so characteris- 
 tically East of the East," he went on, gravely kind. " The 
 mere sound of our Western voices and our ugly speech 
 might rile you in itself, as we would put it out there." 
 
 His arraying himself with the others against her hurt 
 her keenly. Moreover, she felt she was losing ground. 
 
 " It was so unexpected ! " she cried, " and I'm sure 
 I don't know what to do ! I feel as if I had been shoved 
 off in a little boat on a wide sea without rudder, oar or 
 sail." 
 
 Cotton felt for something vaguely. It was his Panama 
 hat, which naturally he hadn't with him. 
 
 " Ah, but there are other skippers," he reminded her. 
 " I am told that at the tourist offices you can easily get a
 
 FIREWEED 175 
 
 man that will take you anywhere and tend to all your 
 affairs. Dr. Burgess, of course, understands such things 
 better than I, but I should be very glad to look up the 
 facts for you." 
 
 " Good Lord, Mr. Cotton, I would no more go around 
 with one of those putty-faced gabblers at my elbow than 
 I would ride a motorcycle through the Alps with Libby 
 Lancaster in a basket at my side ! " she cried. 
 
 " Oh ! " murmured Cotton rather abashed. He rather 
 wondered what, then, she had wanted of him, and when 
 the pause had lengthened he asked her in politer form. 
 
 Erica was at a loss to answer. Vaguely, she had 
 counted on moving him. 
 
 " Dr. Burgess has no right to do this, when I paid full 
 price for Miss Lancaster and myself ! " she cried, hardly 
 knowing what she said. For whatever she was or was 
 not, certainly Erica Manners was not stingy. 
 
 Cotton had nothing to say. 
 
 " He acts as if he were the manager of a young ladies 
 select school. Has he the right " 
 
 She hesitated. He answered the unfinished question. 
 
 " Yes'm, he has the right," he said calmly. " He'll be 
 glad to refund your money, doctor will ; but this is only 
 a voluntary sort of thing for him, you know, Mrs. Man- 
 ners. He doesn't do it for his livelihood. He is a min- 
 ister of the gospel. He has his pastor's salary and does 
 this only, as one might say, in the room of raising his 
 own potatoes and beans. He wouldn't have come at all 
 unless he had been assured of money sufficient to pay 
 expenses." 
 
 " I didn't mean that. Don't think I mind the money ! " 
 she entreated. 
 
 " No, ma'am, I don't," he said soothingly. " But of 
 course doctor has the right to keep his party homogeneous, 
 as it were, all agreeable, one to another."
 
 176 FIRE WEED 
 
 " Oh, damn ! " she cried, hardly realizing what she 
 said, and too excited to consider that the word was 
 less current in circles where Cotton moved than in 
 her own. Cotton, amazed, indeed, lowered his eyes 
 and studied the line in the carpet he was toeing so 
 strictly. 
 
 " Just because I don't happen to fancy holding hands 
 at twilight with that fat Miles woman, he doesn't he 
 insults me in this fashion ! " she cried. 
 
 Cotton saw how wrought up she was, and his pity made 
 him overlook what would have otherwise filled him with 
 indignation. 
 
 " Now see here, Mrs. Manners," he said soothingly, 
 " Dr. Burgess hasn't any such notions, as you would 
 know well if you weren't somewhat excited. He's only 
 thinking of his party and their comfort. I don't believe 
 you know quite how it is with these people. The vaca- 
 tion didn't fall into their hands easily, for the most part. 
 Most of them had to make real sacrifices to bring it about, 
 and doctor wants to make it just as happy for them as he 
 knows how. He wants to, he's more than eager to; but 
 even if he didn't, you know, it would be up to him to do 
 it. It would be his job." 
 
 He glanced across the room. Returning, his eyes 
 rested upon her kindly. He smiled in a droll, almost 
 paternal fashion. 
 
 " As for holding the hand of my dear old friend, Mrs. 
 Miles," he said, " well, one might do a heap worse. 
 She may be large around the waist, but she's of the salt 
 of the earth. Now there's Miss Melendy, she doesn't 
 go in at all for that sort of thing: she's like a boy and 
 hates kissing and fussing and what you call holding hands, 
 and yet she never fails to give Mrs. Miles a good-night 
 kiss. 
 
 " Mrs. Miles lost two children in infancy," he went
 
 FIREWEED 177 
 
 on, then called her especial attention to the words by his 
 abrupt change of subject. 
 
 " She goes in to help with her clothes, Miss Melendy 
 does," he said hurriedly and rather lamely. " There was 
 some mistake about them, I reckon, for they all come 
 together in the back and she can't get in nor out of them 
 alone." 
 
 The girl's name acted upon Erica's excitement like oil 
 poured upon flame. 
 
 " Well, it's good practise in the nursing line for Miss 
 Melendy," she observed. 
 
 " But Miss Melendy is going to be a doctor, not a nurse, 
 like your Miss Lancaster," he returned with a certain 
 warmth. 
 
 " A lady doctor has to be more or less of a nurse these 
 days," she rejoined more warmly. " They're no longer 
 a novelty and I fancy many of them are mighty glad 
 to get a chance to do massage." 
 
 Cotton carefully adjusted his toes to the line. 
 
 " Personally, I have known women physicians that 
 couldn't be beat," he said reluctantly, as if he disliked 
 to differ with her. But more likely he wished to keep 
 to the point, finish the business and get away. Whatever 
 it was, he couldn't let a friend go undefended. 
 
 " To my mind, Miss Melendy has the makings of a 
 wonderful physician, without specifying as to man or 
 woman," he added. " She's a born doctor." 
 
 He waited a moment, then rose. 
 
 " Perhaps I'd best be going," he said politely. 
 
 " But you haven't told me what I'm to do," she pro- 
 tested. 
 
 Why she should expect him to do any such thing, he 
 could not conceive. And anyhow, there was but one 
 thing to be done. But he seated himself again patiently, 
 toeing the line, with his knees more prominent than
 
 178 FIREWEED 
 
 before. Half absently he reached for an ivory paper 
 knife on the table near, and that in hand he seemed to 
 turn into the lawyer he had almost forgotten. 
 
 " You had rather expected to do your traveling this 
 summer with Miss Lancaster alone, had you not, up to 
 the time she met with her accident ? " he asked rather 
 formally. 
 
 " Why, yes," said Erica, " I suppose I had." 
 
 " And she is quite well again ? " 
 
 Mrs. Manners admitted that she was as fit as she 
 would ever be. 
 
 " Then what would be more natural than for you two 
 to finish the summer together just as you had planned? " 
 he concluded. 
 
 " But I don't want to," cried Erica as if he were the 
 stern school-master and she the pupil. " That woman 
 bores me to death ! " 
 
 " Oh that's it ! " he said in his droll way, almost 
 smiling. " May I ask if there is any one in the party 
 that doesn't bore you, Mrs. Manners?" 
 
 Erica laughed. " There's nothing so bad as the bore- 
 dom of one," she said. " And besides, in a lump I 
 rather like 'em, honestly I do, Mr. Cotton, even though 
 perhaps I didn't seem to. I I suppose I hardly real- 
 ized it until this moment. Don't you think couldn't 
 you possibly arrange it so that I could go on with 
 them?" 
 
 " Oh, but Mrs. Manners," he protested, " I haven't any 
 authority, you know. It all rests with Dr. Burgess and 
 I reckon that when he's made up his mind he's right 
 firm. I could say to him that you wish to remain in 
 the party, but it wouldn't do any good. You won't, I 
 believe, take it amiss, for you don't care for them " he 
 half smiled " not individually, at least but the fact 
 is well, the ladies don't want you to continue."
 
 FIREWEED 179 
 
 Erica knew this right well. But it hurt strangely com- 
 ing from him. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm sorry," she murmured. " But perhaps they 
 wouldn't mind, if if oh, Mr. Cotton, do you think 
 of anything I could do to make things right?" 
 
 He hesitated, looked at his toes against the line and 
 replied without raising his eyes. 
 
 " I am sorry, too, but I am afraid there isn't anything," 
 he said. 
 
 On a sudden she leaned forward in the chair she sat 
 in, clasped her hands over her knees and raised her eyes 
 beseechingly to his. 
 
 " Tell me this," she begged. " What would you do if 
 you were in my place and this had happened ? " 
 
 " Well, I would " he began promptly, then hesitated 
 and shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " You see it's different with a man or with any one 
 who has been up against it, Mrs. Manners," he said 
 gravely. " You couldn't do it." 
 
 " Couldn't do what? " she cried, " and why couldn't I ? " 
 
 He returned the paper knife to exactly its original 
 place on the table. Spreading out his fingers with the 
 tips touching, he gazed earnestly at the hemisphere thus 
 formed as if to draw inspiration therefrom. 
 
 " Because," he said slowly, raising his eyes, then allow- 
 ing them to fall again upon the little dome, " because 
 after all, Mrs. Manners, it all boils down to being a 
 case of " 
 
 He checked himself sharply as the familiar phrase of 
 his profession rose to his lips; but she understood and 
 flushed deeply. And she was clever enough to realize 
 that the memory of the trial stiffened him into the lawyer 
 again. 
 
 " It is a case of two groups of people from different 
 environments and without common interests who are
 
 i8o FIREWEED 
 
 mutually personae non gratae," he went on calmly and 
 judicially. " Now the larger group and the one in pos- 
 session has the right of way. The minority, you and Miss 
 Lancaster, were late comers and have no right to expect 
 those in possession to turn out or to cramp themselves in 
 order to accommodate you. It has been amply proved 
 impossible for you to walk on side by side with them. 
 Wherefore, you must either take an entirely different 
 direction or you must wait and let them pass by. After 
 that, the whole highway is yours." 
 
 In unconscious, or only partly conscious imitation, 
 Erica had touched the finger tips of one hand with the 
 long slender white fingers of the other, and was in turn 
 gazing at the lantern they formed. 
 
 " Perhaps, by trying again, we could walk alongside ? " 
 she ventured in a low voice. 
 
 " I don't want to be a wet-blanket," he returned, " but 
 honest Injun, Mrs. Manners, you couldn't fit into our 
 group without just making yourself over, and " he 
 smiled kindly and again rather paternally, " I reckon your 
 friends would never stand for that, even if you should 
 wish it and it were possible." 
 
 Now he leaned forward, with an hand on each elevated 
 knee, an extremely awkward figure yet with the dignity 
 of earnest kindness. 
 
 " Why don't you just make up your mind to go your 
 way and let us go ours ? " he suggested. " You know 
 right well in your heart that there ain't a man jack of 
 us that you would turn your little finger over to see again. 
 I understand why you chafe over this, and in a way I 
 sympathize with you more than I ought, perhaps, when 
 you consider all these people are my good friends. 
 You're upset largely because it's a fiat, and you are not 
 accustomed to receiving even mild suggestions. It's be- 
 cause you feel that you are being put out that you hesitate
 
 FIREWEED 181 
 
 to go; but it isn't unlikely that if you had been left to 
 yourself you might have come to the same decision volun- 
 tarily. Now isn't that so ? " 
 
 " Not at all," she declared with an increment of firm- 
 ness because of the kindness of his voice and manner. 
 " I truly want I don't want to go off by myself, and 
 I could walk in the same path." 
 
 In the pause that fell between them, Cotton resumed 
 his former position. Erica waited breathlessly for his 
 next words. But as she waited, she was suddenly startled 
 out of herself by a deep sigh. He had breathed it uncon- 
 sciously, and she seemed rather to have felt than heard it. 
 
 Looking up, she saw that his face was deeply lined, 
 weary and older than it should have been, it was more 
 lined, more tired, and older than it had been when he 
 came to her door. There was a subtle change in the 
 pulsing of her heart. On a sudden, she forgot herself 
 completely. 
 
 " I mustn't keep you you are tired," she said gently. 
 " I had no right to vex you with all this, and you had the 
 best of reasons for refusing to come. Don't bother any 
 more. I'll think over what you have said. Perhaps 
 perhaps I'll try to make myself over anyhow, even though 
 you think I can't. I want to awfully, and that might 
 make a difference. I have thought ever since you 
 spoke so beautifully about high and heroic things, about 
 choosing the hard way, you know that they seemed 
 honestly, Mr. Cotton, if I thought that I was worth mak- 
 ing over, I'd try I would just struggle there ! " 
 
 Her voice faltered. She raised her eyes, smiled waver- 
 ingly and went on. 
 
 " I suppose I am a bad lot. Most likely, I'm not worth 
 making any struggle about. Perhaps I couldn't scrape 
 together enough good material to make an whole garment 
 to cover my nakedness not even by patching."
 
 182 FIREWEED 
 
 She shook her head. " No," she repeated, " it wouldn't 
 be really worth while." 
 
 Erica Manners was absolutely sincere. In the wave 
 of emotion that had engulfed her with his sigh of weari- 
 ness, emotion more nearly maternal than anything she had 
 ever known, the vague, unformed desires that had haunted 
 her of late, the reaching out dimly toward better things 
 than she had known, had crystallized into definite longing 
 even aspiration. For the moment she forgot every- 
 thing the purpose for which she had summoned Cotton 
 to her, her determination not to be separated from 
 the party, the past that stood between them, and all else. 
 She only knew that being sorry for him, she was not 
 worthy to put her hand in his and tell him so. She 
 wanted, she, Erica Manners, wanted, like any street con- 
 vert of the Salvation Army, to be good. 
 
 Coming from her with that depth of sincerity, it cer- 
 tainly meant much. But whether it were deep or lasting 
 enough to call forth that wonderful expression upon Cot- 
 ton's homely, tired face, would have been a moot ques- 
 tion. It was the beautiful look one attributes to the 
 Shepherd in the parable, and Erica Manners flinched 
 before it. She who had never known the meaning of 
 humility could have bowed her head and hidden her face 
 before it in the conviction of her unworthiness. 
 
 " Worth it worth a struggle ! " he exclaimed with a 
 smile that was the more comforting in that it was droll 
 as well as kindly, such a deprecatory smile as he might 
 have given a naughty but repentant little pupil of his in 
 the days of his teaching in the backwoods. " Of course 
 it's worth it ! It's magnificently worth it ! You know 
 or rather, you can't know what it means when one who 
 is naturally gifted, who could please without much try- 
 ing, makes a real effort to " 
 
 He paused, and his voice fell low.
 
 FIREWEED 183 
 
 " Why to live justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly 
 with one's God," he concluded. 
 
 He rose and held out his hand. As Erica stood before 
 him, unable to raise her eyes because of tears, the feeling 
 of surrender, of peace, of well-being that came upon her 
 with the strong, firm grasp of his hand was something 
 so much better than anything she had hitherto experienced 
 that it was, perhaps, small wonder that she took it to be 
 permanent. She believed, humbly, indeed, yet confi- 
 dently, solemnly yet almost jubilantly, that the miracle 
 was accomplished once for all, and that she was truly 
 " made over."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE Burgess party had alighted from the railway car- 
 riage at Perugia in a downpour of rain which had closed 
 in like a curtain about the elegant, red carpeted tram-car 
 in which they climbed the long steep hill to the piazza 
 which occupies the site of the ancient citadel. 
 
 Rain still fell when Caleb Cotton set forth directly after 
 luncheon, but the sky was so mistily bright that it seemed 
 like " sun showers," which are not supposed to wet the 
 traveler. The further hills were still shut off, but he had 
 glimpses of the green valley as he slowly descended the 
 long hill and entered the narrow streets of the little old 
 town in the plain below. 
 
 The descent had been through a sleeping city as it 
 were; but the dirty streets below were swarming with 
 life. Cotton nodded his way along cheerfully, produc- 
 ing sweets from the bulging pockets of his waterproof 
 coat for the children, and purchasing apples at a way- 
 side booth to feed numerous forlorn little donkeys he 
 encountered. 
 
 Leaving the street, he passed into the open, strolling 
 on until on a sudden the gentle shower became an heavy 
 downpour, when he took hurried refuge in a church at a 
 few rods distance to the left from the spot where he hap- 
 pened to be. Later, he found it to be San Pietro de' 
 Cassinensi. 
 
 With the exception of the Duomo, the churches of 
 
 184
 
 FIREWEED 185 
 
 Florence had not interested Cotton. This fine old basil- 
 ica, however, with its rich deep reds and blues in ceilings 
 and vaultings, appealed to his natural sense of proportion 
 and his love of rich color. Having feed the bent old sacris- 
 tan, who departed into an anteroom, he had the place to 
 himself, being content for a time to rest quiescent against 
 a pillar, his mind passive in the dim, rich quietude of the 
 place. 
 
 But when presently he moved on into the choir, he 
 was again his usual keenly alert self, delighted with the 
 richly carved stalls, whose gracious handiwork was clear 
 as the outlines of Nature. He hoped Nancy would be 
 interested in the myriad, wonderful, fantastic little figures, 
 and determined to bring her hither in a carriage and let 
 her look at them to her heart's content. 
 
 Quite unaware how distinctly inappropriate the latter 
 phrase was, as he left his close study, he came upon a 
 door in the center of the apse that stood just ajar. Push- 
 ing it open, he encountered a tiny balcony and stepped 
 out. 
 
 The rain had ceased and the blue sky shone out from 
 piled masses of dazzlingly white clouds whose fantastic 
 shapes cast curious, charming shadows upon the wide- 
 spreading landscape, green and lilac and misty, rising 
 gently from the hollow to the far, faint blue hills. Look- 
 ing from the dark church was like looking through a spy- 
 glass or the hood of a camera. It seemed to be a vision 
 which belonged only to the church, and he could almost 
 believe that it had no existence apart from it, that it 
 was not Perugia, not, indeed, Italy, but some fair country 
 of the spirit. Here was a genuine surprise for Nancy. 
 
 Leaving the church, and strolling on, he found himself 
 at the entrance to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, whence, 
 he seemed to recollect, one might get a glimpse of four- 
 teen cities, including Assisi. It wasn't sufficiently clear
 
 i86 FIREWEED 
 
 to-day, he knew, but sauntered on towards the statue. 
 Pausing before it, on a sudden he caught sight of a girl 
 in a waterproof cloak and slouch hat standing against the 
 parapet at the further edge of the piazza. He hadn't seen 
 the costume before, but something familiar in the pose 
 of the figure told him it was Miss Melendy, and he strode 
 over to her and greeted her eagerly. 
 
 " Why, Miss Melendy, I feel like I hadn't seen you 
 this many a day ! " he exclaimed with his droll smile. " I 
 feel like I had been away from the world and the dwellers 
 therein for a very long time. I have been in the church 
 yonder St. Peter's. I seem to have forgotten myself 
 and the passage of time, and I shall have to inquire of 
 you whether it's to-day or yesterday ? " 
 
 " To-morrow," said the girl smiling, as she took off 
 her little shapeless hat and shook the water from it. 
 But it wasn't Hank's old grin nor her funny boyish smile. 
 Perhaps it was a forlorn yet sweet shadow of the latter. 
 For she was wishing in her heart that she wasn't so over- 
 whelmingly glad to see Mr. Cotton. She wished she 
 hadn't longed to steal away from the inn and come down 
 this way just because she knew the direction he had 
 chosen and believed she might encounter him. She had 
 always taken pride in her independence and frank deal- 
 ing. Somehow, she wasn't herself of late. And, oh, she 
 wished that she didn't suspect the reason! 
 
 With a savage consciousness that she was making a 
 guy of herself, she pulled her hat low over her brow. 
 But the result was not what she expected. For the hat 
 pushed the loosened locks of her brown hair, curling in 
 the dampness, about her face, softening it and adding to 
 its charming piquancy. 
 
 " Have you stolen a march on me and found the four- 
 teen cities ? " he asked, and standing beside her strained 
 his adventurous eyes far out over the hills before them.
 
 FIREWEED 187 
 
 Beyond the deep valley, almost dazzlingly green from 
 the rain, rose the hills, circle within circle, the rich fore- 
 ground of green shading into the silvery gray of the 
 olive groves and diversified by the warmer, lighter green 
 of the vineyards. Patches of pinkish brown showed 
 fields that had been harvested. Violet succeeded blue 
 and lilac melted into the neutral sky. Stray villas stood 
 out singly here and there and white towns and villages 
 clustered about churches and towers. Of these, some 
 dotted a round eminence, while others circled below the 
 crest of a great beetling rock that had been an impreg- 
 nable fortress when the land had been parceled out among 
 princes. 
 
 The apparent clearness was deceptive, for the air was 
 still heavy with moisture, and they could count only a 
 few towns and did not identify Assisi. But it was good 
 to have made the preliminary survey. They could get 
 out their maps that evening and call in Dr. Burgess for 
 counsel. 
 
 As they turned to retrace the way, Cotton stooped and 
 picked up a small stone, not so big as a lira, of a pinkish- 
 brown color with a distinct line of white encircling it. 
 
 " My eye ! It's a lucky-stone ! " he exclaimed, calling 
 on her to witness that the circle was perfect. And draw- 
 ing out his stylographic pen, he inscribed it with the place 
 and date and handed it to her. 
 
 " Put it in your pocket for the best of good luck, Miss 
 Melendy," he said with his characteristic earnestness. 
 " It isn't heavy enough to weigh you down, and if you 
 didn't merit it for other reasons, you would deserve to 
 have it for being the only lady in the party with pockets 
 inseparable from your dresses." 
 
 Miss Melendy took it into her hand and gazed upon 
 it in a curiously reminiscent fashion. 
 
 " I shall always keep it," she said softly, " and it will
 
 i88 FIREWEED 
 
 remind me of Perugia and Victor Emanuel and the four- 
 teen cities." 
 
 Which was hardly like Miss Melendy. Neither was 
 her secret discovery that it was of the shade which our 
 grandmothers called ashes of roses. Still less, was her 
 vision of her future self evoked by her own words. For 
 even as she spoke, she saw herself, years hence, coming 
 suddenly upon that little sad-colored lucky-stone. She 
 would have forgotten the picture gallery, the octagonal 
 well in the tilted plane before the cathedral, and even the 
 fourteen cities. Perugia would mean only that lucky- 
 stone and the fact that Mr. Cotton had given it to her. 
 Indeed, not only Perugia, but all Italy, all they had seen 
 or were to see of Europe, would amount to just that. 
 And, oh, would it be a compensating value? But the 
 girl cried out within herself that she would make it so. 
 She must make it so. There was nothing for her but 
 that. 
 
 All the while these and similar meditations possessed 
 her, they had been walking back up the hill. Suddenly 
 she raised her eyes in surprise to find that they were on 
 the last lap of the hill, and within a few minutes' walk 
 of the inn which crowned it. 
 
 She looked up at her companion. 
 
 " I should like to ask you, Mr. Cotton, whether has 
 coming abroad meant to you all that you expected ? " 
 
 As he removed his Panama hat, which was rather more 
 shapeless than usual after its wetting, he beamed down 
 upon the girl with some surprise. 
 
 " Far beyond my fondest hopes, Miss Melendy," he 
 returned, " and there's Rome, the best of all, I calculate, 
 still beyond. Rome and London were what I chiefly 
 banked on, particularly Rome; and yet, if I had to turn 
 around this minute and go straight home, I should feel 
 rewarded all my life for what I have had already."
 
 FIREWEED 189 
 
 He gazed down over the greenness of a tangle of shrub- 
 bery, and caught a glimpse of the elegant tram car. 
 
 " How much we owe to civilization for making it so 
 easy and comfortable to cross seas and continents with 
 less difficulty than our grandparents had in visiting their 
 neighbors," he observed. " Of course, I could have 
 roughed it perhaps I should have liked roughing it a 
 trifle more; but I shouldn't have come without Nanny." 
 
 He considered a few moments. 
 
 " But after all," he added, " I reckon we owe a heap 
 more to past civilizations for giving us something worth 
 crossing seas and countries and mountains to visit. I sup- 
 pose we can never be sufficiently grateful to the genera- 
 tions of men and women who have made all this natural 
 beauty so much more beautiful through association 
 living their lives bravely and honestly, shaping their vi- 
 sions in color or stone or in the hearts of men, enriching 
 the world for centuries to come. Do you know, Miss 
 Melendy, what I catch myself doing every now and then 
 when all this comes over me like a flood? I make the 
 sign of the cross, like I was a true Roman Catholic." 
 
 Miss Melendy laughed out in her old blithe way. Sud- 
 denly the burden seemed to drop from her shoulders, 
 for the present, at any rate, and she could go the rest 
 of the way elate. Farther than that, too, perhaps? For 
 somehow, she felt inspired to face the unknown future 
 she had only now meditated with fear and dread. Now, 
 it seemed as if the lucky-stone might mean the necessity 
 and beauty of brave daily living the sign of the cross. 
 
 Tiny showers had chased them all the way ; but ar- 
 rived at the parapet before the inn, they found the zenith 
 bright, and a throng of people, their friends among them, 
 gathered to view a wonderful rainbow which spanned the 
 hills from one horizon across the wide deep valley to the 
 farther rim of the great circumference. Overhead, the
 
 i 9 o FIREWEED 
 
 heaven was dazzling; in the East and about the low sun, 
 were shining banks of cloud ; the valley gleamed as with 
 sapphires, rubies and a myriad crystals; and that great 
 bow of transparent, gemlike radiance rested on purple 
 summits on either side of the world. 
 
 Miss Melendy went in to fetch Nancy but did not 
 return. 
 
 Later in the evening, however, when there was music 
 on the terrace of the inn, she coaxed the girl to come 
 out and sat with her through the first numbers. But 
 whether the music wasn't compelling (the others seemed 
 quite satisfied with it) or whether it was her mood, which 
 had changed since the afternoon. Miss Melendy did not 
 know, but she felt as if she could not endure to sit there 
 after the first quarter hour. They walked out to the edge 
 of the parapet where, unimpressed and not soothed by 
 the wonderful clear night and the marvelous expanse of 
 starry heavens, she burst forth suddenly. 
 
 " Nancy, tell me, have you ever known what it means 
 to feel like the Elder Brother?" she demanded. 
 
 Nancy's face lost its habitual sadness in wonder. 
 
 " Of the parable, you know." 
 
 Nancy confessed she had never thought much about it. 
 
 " Dear me, I wish you had, then I wouldn't feel so 
 small. I have always had a sneaking sympathy for the 
 poor cuss, and well, oh, honey, if you could have 
 heard Mrs. Miles to-night when I went in to hook her 
 up the back for dinner. I found her simply gushing and 
 bursting with complacency because that Mrs. Manners, 
 who has been such a cad to every one in general and to 
 Mrs. Miles in particular ever since she landed on us 
 until within a few days, has been making up to her. Of 
 course Lady Erica's been in Perugia before, and knows 
 the place from A to Z, and she devoted herself especially 
 to Mrs. Miles all afternoon, took her all through the
 
 FIREWEED 191 
 
 high city, dealing out wisdom all the way, and Mrs. Miles 
 says she's perfectly fascinating! And there the two of 
 them sit yonder now, listening to the music together. 
 They had a date for it. And Mrs. Miles kindly asked me 
 to come along. Oh, Nancy, Nancy, wouldn't that rattle 
 your slats ? " 
 
 Nancy's cheeks flamed suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, Hank, dear, you don't mean that Mrs. Miles was 
 
 cool to you ? " she asked in a distressed voice. 
 
 " Oh, no," Hank admitted, " only oh, Nancy, some- 
 times I think I hate all women. They are so indecorous 
 
 so indecent, there ! Good heavens ! I'm perfectly will- 
 ing that Mrs. Manners should come along with us if she 
 wants to so badly and continues to behave herself in 
 a civil fashion. She humbled herself before Dr. Burgess 
 and that's sufficient. And I'm willing to let bygones be 
 bygones. But to make such a splurge over one who only 
 a week ago made you cry until your eyes and nose were 
 crimson O Lord, it's too disgusting for words. Now 
 don't you agree ? " 
 
 " If she's sorry " Nancy began doubtfully. 
 
 " Sorry nothing ! " cried the other. " She simply 
 wanted to hang on because " 
 
 Of course she wouldn't complete the sentence. The 
 girl was honestly shocked and indignant at what seemed 
 to her the general fawning attitude of the greater number 
 of the party towards the woman she believed to be 
 absolutely insincere and unscrupulous. Generous to a 
 fault herself, Miss Melendy had condemned Mrs. Man- 
 ners from the first; and now, suspecting her motive for 
 forcing herself upon a group of people who had repu- 
 diated her, she scorned her the more for her scheming 
 and hypocrisy. But she said no more. Regretting 
 Nancy's perturbation, she endeavored to get away from 
 the subject. Chance helped her out.
 
 i 9 2 FIREWEED 
 
 As the band struck up a composition in march time, 
 Nancy clasped her hands in excitement. Miss Melendy 
 had never seen her so animated. 
 
 " Oh, Hank, that's pappy's favorite air ! " she cried. 
 " It's the only one he can always recognize. Do let's go 
 and see if he is where he'll hear it. He's so pleased and 
 proud when he can tell some one what the name of it is." 
 
 As it chanced, Cotton had just finished a stroll and a 
 pipe, and sauntered into the lighted space just as the 
 familiar melody rang out. He dropped like a bolt into 
 the first empty seat, which happened to be that which 
 Mrs. Miles had saved for Miss Melendy, and leaned for- 
 ward, listening eagerly. 
 
 When they had finished, he turned to the ladies Mrs. 
 Manners was the other side of Mrs. Miles. 
 
 " Now who would have thought do you happen to 
 know what that last tune was ? " he asked eagerly. 
 
 Neither of them knew. 
 
 "Well, now, that's the Happy Farmer," he informed 
 them almost gleefully. " It's the only tune I know for 
 sure, and to think of my hearing it way up on this moun- 
 tain top in the heart of Italy. It carries me back to my 
 early days." 
 
 "How's that?" inquired Mrs. Miles affably. 
 
 " Well, the winter I was studying law with Judge Pear- 
 son, teaching school and living with his family, his son 
 was taking lessons on the piano-forte, and the only way 
 they could get him to practise his music was for me to 
 sit in the parlor with him with my law books every night 
 after supper. This Happy Farmer was his piece I 
 didn't suspect it then, but later I came to believe that that 
 was all Joe ever played over and over and over again. 
 You see when Nanny began, she had scales and all sorts 
 of frills I know he never had. However, I got that one 
 tune pretty pat. I used to catch myself whistling it as
 
 FIREWEED 193 
 
 I walked, and keeping step with it, and to this day it comes 
 back to me now and then in court. I reckon it's when a 
 bit of law comes up that I first read at that time. I'll 
 hear it just as plain: one and two, and three and four, 
 and one and two and three and four, and so on." 
 
 He laughed. " Now Mrs. Miles, don't you go to think- 
 ing your old neighbor fit for treason, stratagems and 
 spoils, for I do know one piece from another when the 
 words are sung, and I am moved by concord of sweet 
 sounds, even though all concourses are pretty much alike 
 to me." 
 
 " All pussy-cats are gray in the dark," murmured Mrs. 
 Manners. 
 
 At the end of the next selection, she leaned over Mrs. 
 Miles to ask Cotton why he did not ask the conductor 
 to repeat his favorite piece. She declared that she wanted 
 to hear it again so that she would know it henceforth, and 
 Mrs. Miles was like minded. Cotton rose and made his 
 way to the bandmaster. 
 
 The parley was an amusing sight to witness, the tall, 
 thin American bending over the short, stout little Tuscan, 
 both talking, both gesticulating, yet neither understanding 
 the other. Then Cotton made a supreme effort. Once 
 more was clearly encore; he had only to hum the first 
 strain, which he did calmly and with remarkable sweetness 
 of tone, though he didn't strike the key at all, and the 
 impression was conveyed. The leader grasped the 
 American's hand in excitement, the orchestra laughed out, 
 took up their instruments eagerly and at the awaited sign 
 struck up the music with great gusto. And thereafter, 
 so long as the party remained, and no one knew how long 
 afterwards, that piece opened each concert. 
 
 Erica Manners related the incident to Miss Lancaster, 
 who had remained in her room, and who admitted rather 
 unenthusiastically that it was very amusing.
 
 i 9 4 FIREWEED 
 
 " Yes, it was funny," said Erica musingly. " But, Libby, 
 it wasn't so funny, after all, as it was for me .to sit snug- 
 gled up to Mrs. Miles all the evening, as confidential as 
 Darby and Joan. And yet do you know, I rather like 
 her. It's an awful mistake, going about with one's head 
 in the air and missing the good wholesome things that 
 don't turn sour. And honestly, I can't help really taking 
 to Mrs. Miles, triple chin, funny ears and all." 
 
 " H'm. I rather wonder what Mrs. Holbrook would 
 say," remarked Miss Lancaster grimly. 
 
 Erica flushed deeply. But she had nothing to say.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 " No, I had quite forgotten," Mrs. Manners acknowl- 
 edged with her pretty slight smile which was somehow 
 more attractive, even more flattering than one less indef- 
 inite would have been. " But it's refreshing, the sight of 
 those clear green robes, don't you feel so, Dr. Burgess ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do, Mrs. Manners," he replied with a courtly 
 inclination of his handsome head. 
 
 " Poor Madonna, she must be sick and tired of blue, 
 eternal blue," Erica went on. " Perhaps that is the secret 
 of her bored, set smile ? Now there's something dignified 
 about Perugino's virgins, and the green mantle seems to 
 suit the grave serenity of their faces." 
 
 As she paused to fill Mrs. Burgess's cup and to glance 
 about to see if any one else was ready for more tea, Dr. 
 Burgess took up the topic in the rather stiff, guide-book 
 fashion that seems inevitable to the leader of a group of 
 travelers, however friendly and informal the company 
 may be. 
 
 " Another distinctive touch of this school is the green 
 tint in the sky," he added. " At the same time, I hardly 
 understand how they came by that in this high hill coun- 
 try where the air is so clear that one could hardly see 
 the sky too blue." 
 
 " I know one thing, doctor," observed Mrs. Miles, look- 
 ing up quickly from her cup, " and that is, if the sky 
 should ever get as green at home as it is under some of
 
 196 FIREWEED 
 
 those arches in the pictures we saw this morning, we'd 
 all be down in our cellars before you could say Jack Rob- 
 inson, waiting for a cyclone." 
 
 Cotton sat a little back. He was not taking tea and 
 had had thus far no part in the conversation. It seemed 
 to Erica that he mingled rather less with the others since 
 she had become a genuine member of the party. She 
 honestly tried to be the same in his absence as when he 
 could hear and see ; and if she was not wholly successful, 
 it was because of what was beyond her control. In any 
 event, when he was near, no matter who put the question, 
 it always seemed to her to come from him. Somehow, 
 he seemed to second every motion even before it was 
 proposed. And now, addressing Dr. Burgess, it was 
 Cotton she really seemed to answer. 
 
 " It rather seems to me that it's true, nevertheless, doc- 
 tor, that green tinted sky," she said softly. " Raphael, as 
 you know, painted his baker's daughter, buxom and com- 
 placent and handsome for his Madonna; but Perugino 
 made his from a heavenly vision, so that the one is a 
 handsome woman and the other a sweet-eyed saint. And 
 just so, it would seem to me in the matter of the sky: 
 Perugino would never paint broad noon. His sky would 
 be early dawn or more likely afterglow, and his soul 
 would choose the rarest, purest tint of the evening sky, 
 which is just that pale, clear green." 
 
 Cotton turned his Panama hat slowly round and round 
 and round, studying it carefully. He was strangely im- 
 pressed with Mrs. Manners's words, and by what they 
 seemed to add to the revelation of her real nature. And 
 yet he could not understand. Often he seemed to be 
 seeing men as trees walking. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners," cried Mrs. Miles enthusiastically, 
 " I never knew any one who expressed things so sweetly, 
 and so that one can never forget them ! "
 
 FIREWEED 197 
 
 Erica flushed, and protesting, tried to laugh it from her. 
 As a matter of fact, she was surprised at herself almost 
 frightened. For, in truth, the words seemed not to be 
 her own. As once or twice of late, she didn't even feel 
 sure that the ideas behind them had been hers, certainly 
 she had never formulated them before. She had, indeed, 
 always had a reputation for brilliancy in conversation, 
 and had made certain efforts to sustain it, but sometimes 
 now she almost seemed possessed. In the presence of 
 Caleb Cotton, she found herself saying better and truer 
 things than she believed herself capable of evolving, and 
 she had a distressing dread of being insincere, of playing 
 the hypocrite. She couldn't help herself that he was 
 always in the background of her thoughts, but not only 
 was she always striving, unawares, it seemed to her, to 
 please him, but she seemed to be given matter and words 
 suited to that end. 
 
 " Oh, you can't get out of it that way," declared Mrs. 
 Miles and turned back to demand confirmation of her old 
 neighbor. 
 
 " Yes, it's certainly a right satisfactory explanation," 
 he assented. " I must look into that gallery to-morrow. 
 I started to-day, but I didn't get far." 
 
 He explained to her afterwards that he had encountered 
 a life-size crucifixion which had so taken the heart from 
 him that he had turned and fled down into the valley. 
 
 Miss Melendy, who had come in with Nancy, took 
 advantage of the pause. 
 
 " It's the angels that get me, I confess," she observed. 
 " Such neat, natty creatures I never dreamed of, dressed 
 cap-a-pie with high necks and tight sleeves, fitted basques 
 with little triple peplums, and neat little fitted and finished 
 orifices for the wing feathers to come through. And the 
 solid way they rest on the air as if it were a snow bank ! 
 I could sooner see the virgins and saints with their floating
 
 198 FIREWEED 
 
 drapery floating off to heaven than the angels, for all 
 their wings." 
 
 Every one smiled from relief and pleasure, for this 
 was like the old Hank. The girl had hardly mingled with 
 the others at all of late and then had been silent and cold. 
 No one guessed that she was only with them at the tea 
 hour to-day at Nancy's request. 
 
 " Well, Miss Melendy, then the cherubs surely please 
 you," remarked Dr. Burgess, " for they're not hampered 
 by clothing nor even by limbs." 
 
 " They're the limit all right ! " she cried, " little smirk- 
 ing heads ! I pass 'em right by, for they give me visions 
 of the French Revolution." 
 
 " Oh, Hank, I think they're very sweet," protested 
 Mrs. Miles. 
 
 " And they fit into the composition so nicely," added 
 Maude Griffiths demurely. 
 
 " Oh, Maudy ! " Miss Melendy thrust her hands deep 
 into her pockets. She wore Holland linen with a red tie, 
 but her usual ruddy color was wanting. " Now you're 
 playing Mrs. Gilpin again. Well, I don't mind ghosts; 
 old Truepenny is my favorite character in Shakespeare ; 
 but I draw the line at headless bodies or bodiless 
 heads." 
 
 " Now that you have said that, Hank, I shall probably 
 always think of it when I look at my picture of cherubs 
 hanging in my bedroom at home," said Mrs. Miles re- 
 proachfully, " and yet, their heads peep out from the 
 clouds so their bodies might well be hidden." 
 
 She sighed. " Well, I can still enjoy my favorite pic- 
 ture," she remarked hopefully. " It was a wedding pres- 
 ent from an intimate friend who has since died. You 
 probably know it, Dr. Burgess, for a good many people 
 seem to have it. It represents two beautiful children 
 in a boat on the brink of rapids, but over their
 
 FIREWEED 199 
 
 heads are their guardian angels ready to rescue them. 
 Their draperies would satisfy even you, you naughty 
 Hank." 
 
 " Sure, Mrs. Miles. I know that picture and it's all 
 right," responded Hank, who felt a bit guilty. Nancy 
 reached her hand down into Hank's pocket and pressed 
 her hand in token of understanding. 
 
 " Such pictures were more common in the days when 
 mothers rocked their babies to sleep and sang ' Hush, my 
 babe, lie still and slumber,' " remarked Dr. Burgess. 
 
 " What ! " cried Cotton, " Do you mean they don't sing 
 it to-day? My eye! What a back number I am, to be 
 sure ! " 
 
 " Pappy used to sing it to me by the hour," said 
 Nancy. " He used to walk the floor with naughty me, 
 singing it over and over." 
 
 " Did you hush? " demanded Hank. 
 
 " Only until he stopped singing," returned Nancy with 
 her pathetic little forced smile. " Then, they tell me, I 
 began again." 
 
 Miss Melendy, who certainly was not at her best to-day, 
 turned to Cotton. 
 
 " Suppose you sing it now ? " she suggested. 
 
 " I'm not allowed to use my voice so soon after eat- 
 ing," he returned in a falsetto that made them laugh. 
 
 " Nonsense, you haven't taken a bite." 
 
 Whereupon Cotton astonished them all by rising, bow- 
 ing in grandiose manner and singing through the one 
 and only stanza he knew of the old cradle hymn. Then 
 he made a hasty retreat amid the laughter that was as 
 spontaneous as it was affectionate, Dr. Burgess follow- 
 ing after. 
 
 To an Italian lady sitting in the further corner of the 
 garden, it was a curious experience. The group of 
 women and girls, typical American travelers with their
 
 200 FIREWEED 
 
 handsome, white-haired, florid-faced, clerical guide, 
 against the background of palms and oleanders was a not 
 uncommon sight. But the inordinately tall and thin 
 stranger in their midst was different from them, and 
 from any one else she had ever seen, with the wondering 
 adventurous eyes of youth in a worn, weary face, stand- 
 ing with his shabby hat in his hands singing a singular 
 ditty in a voice of sweetness and power but with appar- 
 ently no sense of time or pitch or key. What was the 
 significance of it all? Presently she addressed Mrs. 
 Manners, the only one of the party who understood and 
 spoke Italian fluently, and asked whether the song the 
 signer sang were perhaps adapted to Mexican or Indian 
 notation. 
 
 Erica laughed as she repeated the query to Cotton that 
 evening. 
 
 " I suppose I made up or made over the tune and then 
 held to my invention," he admitted. " But it was Nanny's 
 fault that my range was so limited. I could do ' Poor Old 
 Aunt Abby ' famously once, but after she came to under- 
 stand the words it distressed her so to hear that the gray 
 goose was dead, I had to give it up." 
 
 " I always felt that it made it all so simple. There was 
 the dead goose and the feathers, so why all that fuss about 
 breaking the news ? " she returned. 
 
 " Ah, but that's the whole thing. It's live feathers 
 they're after. I reckon you never slept on a feather 
 bed?" 
 
 " I have slept under one in Germany and nearly smoth- 
 ered," she retorted, and they laughed together almost in 
 the easy way of old friends. 
 
 They stood in the lobby, and there being no further 
 pretext for keeping him, Erica turned reluctantly. 
 
 " I shall go to see your green-robed Maries to-morrow," 
 he said by way of farewell.
 
 FIREWEED 201 
 
 Erica accepted the announcement as if it were a per- 
 sonal tribute. 
 
 " I 'm so glad," she said, and added, somewhat irrele- 
 vantly : " I suppose you know Browning's Guardian 
 Angel? " 
 
 " No, ma'am, I don't," he said. 
 
 " I wish I wish you would let me read it to you?" 
 she proposed rather humbly. 
 
 " You have the book with you ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " I'd like right well to hear it, if it isn't too much 
 trouble to fetch the book," he assured her. 
 
 She returned quickly with the volume and they sat 
 down in a little alcove furnished in wicker. Erica read 
 the verses with feeling, and Cotton listened with his 
 wonted concentrated attention, which was, however, trib- 
 ute rather to the poet than to the reader. 
 
 She realized this, but after the first pang was content 
 to have it so. For she read in his face the response to 
 the solace of the poem. The lines in his brow, indeed, 
 seemed rather to deepen than to decrease, but it seemed 
 to be by reason of his relaxing his habitual restraint. 
 And over and above and through the weariness, one felt 
 a sense of serenity and solace that made it seem somehow 
 better than any want of weariness, any utter rest could 
 have been. 
 
 He thanked her simply and asked leave to borrow the 
 volume to read to Nancy and Miss Melendy. Erica 
 paled slightly at mention of Miss Melendy, but handed 
 over the book cordially and went on her way at once. 
 
 Which might have intimated that Mrs. Manners was 
 really changed, as every one except Miss Melendy and 
 Miss Lancaster believed. Perhaps the question were 
 rather whether the change, which was unmistakable out- 
 wardly, were radical and permanent.
 
 202 FIREWEED 
 
 Erica had, indeed, resolved that it should be. Deeply 
 moved, she had risen above her desire to do anything, 
 make any sacrifice of pride or resentment in order to 
 remain near Caleb Cotton ; she had suddenly but sincerely 
 desired something higher and better ; she had longed to be 
 different, irrespective or almost irrespective of conse- 
 quences, to live justly, to love mercy and perhaps even 
 to walk humbly with her God. She had clenched her 
 hands, set her teeth, and boldly entered what she believed 
 was to be the narrow way. 
 
 It had been hard, terribly hard, to humble herself 
 before Dr. Burgess ; but he had met her so kindly that it 
 was soon over. And after that there was no struggle. 
 She had only entered the narrow way when it became 
 broad, easy and comfortable, rose-strewn, as it were. 
 Erica had had no chance to sue or plead or struggle. 
 It looked as if the gods themselves were against her 
 in quite another fashion than the stars that in their 
 courses fought against Sisera they would not allow 
 her to taste the wholesome savor of rue. 
 
 The situation was human and natural. At her best, 
 even at her second best, Erica Manners was a charming 
 creature. And these simple, kindly travelers, who had 
 so taken to her from the first as to have to be repulsed 
 for their unwelcome ardor, were ready to flock back to 
 her side at the first intimation of friendly feeling upon 
 her part, forgiving, ignoring, and presently quite forget- 
 ting past unpleasantnesses, as they clustered about her, 
 and hung upon her words. 
 
 And fantastic as it might seem utterly absurd and 
 monstrous as Delia Holbrook would have conceived it to 
 be Erica Manners liked all this, nay, reveled in it. 
 She drank their appreciation, praises and flattery grate- 
 fully : she began to delight in their idiosyncrasies, to enjoy 
 acting the Lady from Philadelphia to such endearing
 
 FIREWEED 203 
 
 Peterkins. She liked being consulted as to hats and 
 gowns and colors and combinations ; to air her sometimes 
 rather trite opinions as to art and poetry ; to have her little 
 sallies greeted with such wholesome, infectious mirth. 
 Furthermore, she was grateful in her heart of hearts to 
 have recaptured unconsciously that old lost gift of care- 
 less good-nature that had really been her birthright. But 
 better than anyone else, Erica Manners knew that she 
 was receiving rather than giving; in no sense was she 
 enduring hardness ; she wasn't even climbing hillocks or 
 stepping over the smallest obstacles. 
 
 However, if the ascent from Avernus was like rolling 
 down hill on velvet sward, she couldn't help it, and she 
 might as well make the best of it. And after all, the sit- 
 uation wasn't so desperate as that of the king in the old 
 tale who had to fling his precious ring into the sea: for 
 there was the implacable Miss Melendy in the background. 
 She didn't say or do anything, indeed. But there she 
 was, just, righteous, unbending, implacable, a cloud upon 
 the horizon that might at any time darken the whole 
 heaven.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 To herself, Elizabeth Lancaster said that she had no 
 use for this last pose of Erica's. She enjoyed a certain 
 relief in that she was no longer bullied, but she found 
 Mrs. Manners a far less interesting personage. More- 
 over, she resented her own sudden drop into obscurity; 
 she had been about as constantly as she could manage it 
 with the other members of the party until Mrs. Manners 
 began to mingle with them ; but now that she belonged 
 to the inner circle, there didn't appear to be a place for 
 Miss Lancaster even at the edge of the outer. There was 
 nothing for her, however, but to wait patiently until the 
 pose should begin to pall and she should come into her 
 own again. 
 
 Miss Melendy, on the contrary, believed the import of 
 the game to be serious. The girl sincerely believed Mrs. 
 Manners to be hoodwinking the whole party in general 
 for the sake of deceiving Mr. Cotton in particular. She 
 feared ill would come from it ; but there was nothing she 
 could do. It would be worse than bootless to play Cas- 
 sandra. Nevertheless, she couldn't follow suit and join 
 in the general adulation. She kept apart from the others 
 when Mrs. Manners was among them which was 
 almost constantly. And half unconsciously, she was on 
 her guard for whatever might happen. 
 
 Naturally, it came about that she devoted herself only 
 the more exclusively to Nancy. But she was the more 
 disheartened the more she saw of Mrs. Manners. What- 
 
 204
 
 FIREWEED 205 
 
 ever the present attitude of the latter might impart, Hank 
 felt convinced that she would not lose her strangle hold 
 upon Stokes. 
 
 Presently it came to Miss Melendy disconcertingly that 
 she had somehow insensibly abandoned her purpose of 
 straightening out the tangle of Nancy's fate, and was 
 working merely toward the futile end of persuading her 
 to forget. That, Nancy wouldn't do with eternity before 
 her ; but with Mrs. Manners blocking the way, what else 
 remained? And Hank not only kept on, but with aug- 
 mented energy. 
 
 On their first day at Assisi, she put Nancy through a 
 program she had thoughtfully mapped out, and was 
 rather surprised that evening to realize that Nancy 
 seemed stronger than she had done since they had left 
 Paris. But her satisfaction was not unmixed. For, 
 after all, it was a counter-attraction she sought for 
 Nancy not resignation to her fate. The girl had 
 followed in the footsteps of St. Francis rather too 
 successfully; Hank rebelled in her heart against any 
 solution of the problem through martyrdom arid saint- 
 hood. 
 
 The evening was wonderful, with a waning moon flood- 
 ing the hills with soft light. The others had gone for a 
 stroll. Miss Melendy, depressed and perplexed, had 
 taken refuge in the deserted garden, both desiring and 
 dreading to ponder upon certain matters and draw from 
 them their logical conclusions, if such there were. 
 Presently Nancy joined her. For some time they sat 
 silent in the beautiful, neglected old garden among the 
 long shadows and pallid open spaces. As Nancy, still 
 in a dream of the visions of the day, began to sing an 
 old hymn softly to herself, Miss Melendy's thoughts re- 
 verted to that mysterious twilight hour in the church out 
 yonder.
 
 206 FIREWEED 
 
 Late in the afternoon, her depression had sent her out 
 upon a long, solitary walk. Returning, hot and weary, 
 she had paused irresolutely before the church, and enter- 
 ing had hidden herself in a dark corner of its cool depths. 
 The hour was so late that it was unlikely that even tour- 
 ists would be about. Everyone would be dressing for 
 dinner. She was alone and grateful for the solace that 
 seemed to draw the bitterness from her aching heart. 
 
 But presently the curtain was drawn and a figure stole 
 in, passed down the side aisle and paused before an altar. 
 To her annoyance, she saw that it was Mrs. Manners. 
 That lady might have committed any act of depredation, 
 and Miss Melendy would not have felt the slightest sur- 
 prise ; as it was, the girl felt that she was dreaming. For 
 the newcomer stopped, glanced around, then crossed her- 
 self with nervous haste and dropped on her knees before 
 the shrine, burying her face in her arms on the railing. 
 Miss Melendy forgot everything in her absolute amaze- 
 ment, until she was startled by a tiny ray of light stealing 
 in without the slightest accompanying sound. 
 
 The girl shrank back further into her corner as she 
 made out the dark, very tall gaunt figure of a man who 
 started noiselessly up the center aisle but stopped short 
 as he caught sight of the motionless figure bowed before 
 the shrine in the south aisle. Then he hid himself in a 
 corner corresponding to Miss Melendy 's. No sound had 
 disturbed the silence and apparently Mrs. Manners was as 
 little aware of the presence of anyone else in the place 
 as Mr. Cotton was unaware of Hank herself. And 
 truly it didn't seem her part to divulge the fact of her 
 presence. 
 
 Some minutes passed, perhaps five. Mrs. Manners 
 rose and moved slowly and softly towards the great cen- 
 tral door. As she passed a spot in the nave where a 
 shaft of mild radiance fell through the rose window to
 
 FIREWEED 207 
 
 the pavement, Miss Melendy saw her face and saw that 
 she had wept. Again, she made the sign of the cross in 
 an uncertain, faltering way and passed out through the 
 curtain. 
 
 Breathless, and with strangely beating heart, Miss 
 Melendy sat in her dark corner, confused and almost 
 dazed. Because he, too, had seen, she would not make 
 herself known to Mr. Cotton, not if she had to stay 
 in the church all night. But soon he, too, came out of 
 the shadows, and standing where Mrs. Manners had 
 stood, looked up to the shaft of light that had fallen upon 
 her. Then he, too, made the sign of the cross, but 
 unfalteringly, simply and reverently. Passing out, he 
 left Miss Melendy alone in a tumult of feeling she could 
 neither understand nor control. 
 
 Neither could she understand it now. But presently 
 she couldn't longer endure the retrospect. In some way 
 or another, she must free herself from it at least for 
 the time being. 
 
 " Oh, Nan, I must tell you of some people I ran up 
 against when I was off on my hike this afternoon," she 
 said suddenly, " two young fellows on bikes. I thought 
 by the look of them they were English, but one of them 
 broke out singing ' You're as welcome as the flowers in 
 May ' and I knew in a jiffy they were Americans. Honey, 
 suppose you sing it now instead of those dreary old hymns." 
 
 " But Hank, I don't know it. I never heard it." 
 
 " For the love of Mike. Well, I can't let you go to 
 bed that ignorant. It goes like this." 
 
 And Hank thrust her hands into her pockets, threw her 
 head back and assumed a jaunty attitude. 
 
 " You're as welcome as the flowers in May, 
 I am waiting for you day by day " 
 
 So far, so good. But here the girl's bravado failed
 
 208 FIREWEED 
 
 her. She faltered, and instead of coming out strongly 
 on the last verse she only just managed to carry it 
 through : 
 
 " I love you in the same old way." 
 
 She choked and her eyes filled with tears. But Nancy 
 did not realize. For suddenly she had bowed her head on 
 the arm of the bench where they sat and was weeping 
 convulsively, all the solace of saintship vanquished by that 
 strain of a music-hall song. 
 
 Miss Melendy, who had never seen Nancy give way to 
 tears before, was alarmed and frightened as well as over- 
 whelmed with self-reproach. Throwing her arms about 
 the sobbing girl, she strove by every means within her 
 power to soothe her. And Nancy, who had had long, 
 sad practise in self-control, choked back her sobs and 
 after only a few minutes raised her head and tried to smile. 
 
 " Poor darling, you're tired and that's a bally old song 
 it like to made me cry myself," exclaimed Hank 
 warmly. " It's an immoral song, too, honey, for what it 
 makes one cry for is something one couldn't have in any 
 event, something wholly out of reach, like that poor 
 old moon with the sunken cheek. And let me tell you, 
 honey, it's immoral to get to wanting the moon ; for if one 
 does, no matter what beautiful things are offered one or 
 what good friends one has, one doesn't in one's secret 
 heart give a damn for any one of them. You want the 
 moon or nothing, and you just wear yourself out trying 
 to hide it from the world." 
 
 Hank laughed, rather uncertainly. 
 
 "There! I've preached myself a little sermon with 
 that Home-Sweet-Home sort of ditty for a text or a 
 refrain. Well, don't you care. Whatever comes, honey, 
 I shall love you in the same old way, and I hope you 
 won't forget your faithful old Hank."
 
 FIREWEED 209 
 
 Meantime, the person who might have represented the 
 moon in this instance, Philip Stokes, Esquire, was 
 wearing out the long hours of a long and dreary summer. 
 He was missing and wanting Erica Manners sadly. For 
 a little, he had somewhat appeased his hungry longing 
 by the daily letters he wrote her. But after a certain 
 time, though he still continued it as an occupation, it 
 ceased to be a resource. Erica seldom wrote to him and 
 never answered his letters, and it began to seem like 
 talking to a deaf person in the dark. He began to won- 
 der whether she even read his letters. Certainly she 
 would never peruse them. And he had visions of her 
 tossing them aside after the most cursory glance, just 
 as he had seen her use Mahners's letters during past sum- 
 mers when she had received them at the shore or moun- 
 tains. 
 
 He continued to write because he could not help it; 
 but he did so against his judgment and against his will. 
 He was ashamed of himself for persisting in the circum- 
 stances. Unstable as water, he pronounced himself, a 
 poor-spirited cur indeed to be thrusting his missives upon 
 one who did not want them. He belabored himself for 
 want of spirit and of pride. Why, in heaven's name, he 
 asked himself, since he despised himself and Erica de- 
 spised him the more for doing so, should he continue to 
 play the fool ! 
 
 Shrugging his shoulders, the young man confessed 
 that it was beyond him. After all, he didn't know what 
 he wanted anyhow. He wanted Erica? True, but sup- 
 pose suppose the impossible: suppose he should get 
 her? Suppose Erica should yield and he should marry 
 her? 
 
 What then? Philip Stokes said to himself that it would 
 be hell nothing less to live with Erica if she didn't 
 love him. And she simply wasn't capable of loving him
 
 210 FIREWEED 
 
 nor anyone else: it wasn't in her. She hadn't even any 
 real affection for Delia, who worshiped Erica in her odd, 
 secret, passionate way. Furthermore, Erica was so thor- 
 oughly, so inveterately selfish, so brutally unfeeling, that 
 one would be rash to the extremity, foolhardy to the point 
 of madness, to adventure marriage with her. As for 
 himself, whose tastes were really what is called " domes- 
 tic," who had in spite of himself and his fortunes kept 
 intact in his heart through the years the vision brought 
 out of early boyhood, of home, firelight, motherhood and 
 repose, for such as he, he could not doubt that what 
 he now experienced as unhappiness would be as naught 
 in comparison with the torture he would undergo daily 
 and hourly in that hypothetical position in which he en- 
 deavored to see himself. And yet what a travesty it 
 all was ! notwithstanding all this, it was not in him to 
 give over the bootless struggle to win her. 
 
 Stokes also missed Caleb Cotton, albeit in a quite dif- 
 ferent fashion. His craving for Erica Manners was of 
 the morbid nature of the craving for drugs or narcotics ; 
 but he missed Cotton and wanted his companionship as 
 one wants healthful pleasures or simple food. And this, 
 Stokes had somehow not anticipated as he had the other. 
 He began to realize how much more dreary life was 
 his own peculiarly complicated life without the solace 
 of the Cotton hearthstone. And whereas thoughts of 
 Erica only induced pain, he liked dwelling upon the Cot- 
 tons and conjecturing upon their happiness in Europe. 
 He liked to think of Cotton surveying in his homely, 
 genial way, every foot of the continent he came in con- 
 tact with, and of sweet Nancy filling her mind with visions 
 of pure beauty. Ah! it would be good indeed to have 
 them back again, father and daughter. It would be good 
 to hear Cotton's humorous reminiscences as one thing or 
 another should call them forth, and to listen to Nancy's
 
 FIREWEED 2ii 
 
 artless prattle. Artless prattle! How Hank Melendy 
 would have raged at the phrase. 
 
 The week-end following Austria's ultimatum to Servia, 
 Stokes spent with his sister at the shore. They spoke of 
 that diplomatic incident briefly and discussed at some 
 length the verdict in the Cailloux case. Presently Mrs. 
 Holbrook made a casual remark that made other foreign 
 news seem quite unimportant. 
 
 " Oh, Phil, I had forgotten to tell you the best joke 
 yet ! " she exclaimed suddenly. " What do you suppose 
 Erica has gone and done ? " 
 
 Though his heart seemed to stop beating, he answered 
 glibly enough : 
 
 " Married a count, I suppose? " 
 
 " Goodness, no, Phil, something far more banal than 
 that. Erica's actually joined a party ! " 
 
 "For the love of Mike, what of that?" he growled. 
 " It seems to me there's something mighty near banality 
 in introducing a trivial matter in such a disgustingly 
 sensational way." 
 
 Delia grinned in her ugliest fashion. " But, Phil, you 
 know how she has always scorned any such thing?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. " If Erica had joined the 
 Salvation Army, your announcement would still have been 
 a bit flamboyant," he muttered. 
 
 " The other seemed sufficiently flamboyant to me, I 
 own," she confessed, lighting a cigarette. 
 
 As she puffed at it she eyed him in an exceedingly 
 irritating way. Presently he began to stare back. 
 
 " See here, Del Stokes, if you've got anything up your 
 sleeve, why don't you either out with it or shut up ? " 
 he demanded. 
 
 " Did I tell you the Italian ambassador is here?" she 
 asked casually. 
 
 " Only twice before."
 
 212 FIREWEED 
 
 She finished her cigarette silently. As she drew another 
 from her little silver case, she remarked pleasantly that 
 there were parties and parties. 
 
 Her brother couldn't endure it longer and lighted a 
 cigar, though he abominated smoking with Delia. She 
 took a fiendish delight in torturing him, bringing up 
 Erica's name merely to madden him; and he sulkily un- 
 derstood her exultation. But he couldn't help following 
 her lead. 
 
 " Erica enjoying her widowhood ? " he asked. " When 
 did she write?" 
 
 " It must have been early in the month, for I got it ten 
 days or a fortnight ago. She seems at least as bored as 
 usual." 
 
 They sat in a tiny balcony outside her room. Stokes 
 looked straight into the eye of the bright star of the 
 Charioteer, but with scant appreciation of its brilliancy. 
 
 " What in hell is it you want me to ask, Del ? " he 
 suddenly demanded, turning and facing her. 
 
 Delia only shrugged her bare shoulders, which her 
 brother considered too dark and bony to be so largely 
 visible. 
 
 " I suppose it's a Cook's Tour ? " he ventured. 
 
 " No, brother dear, you've another guess coming." 
 
 " Well, I don't suppose it's a Christian Endeavor con- 
 vention or a W.C.T.U. excursion ? " 
 
 " Keep your shirt on, brother. It's simply a small, 
 select party personally conducted by a smug little white- 
 haired clergyman from Indiana I'm not sure she said 
 he was little, though. Burgess, I believe is the old fel- 
 low's name." 
 
 Burgess Indiana for a few moments Stokes strug- 
 gled with vague recollections. Then on a sudden it 
 flashed over him that the name Burgess figured in Cot- 
 ton's address and that the party to which he belonged
 
 FIREWEED 213 
 
 had been made up in Indiana. And even then it was an 
 appreciable interval before the real significance of it all 
 struck him. Then, however, it struck hard. It seemed 
 to stun him, to fell him on the spot, as it were. 
 
 " My God, Delia ! " he exclaimed rising and standing 
 over her, " you can't mean that Erica's in the same group 
 with Mr. Cotton ? " 
 
 Her dark, oriental eyes seemed to smolder. It was 
 something of a triumph to get such a rise out of Phil. 
 
 " Aren't you, perhaps, over-dramatic, Phil ? Aren't 
 you yourself somewhat flamboyant in your gesticula- 
 tion ? " she murmured. " Can't two persons from the self- 
 same city belong to the same excursion party without your 
 becoming hysterical and tearing your hair?" 
 
 " You mean to say that Erica has forced herself upon 
 the party that Mr. Cotton went over with? Is Erica 
 really as brazen as that ? " he cried hotly, tossing his cigar 
 over the railing. 
 
 " Erica's a good sport, just as of old," she said lightly. 
 " And she's certainly in the same party with your rever- 
 end friend and meeting him daily." 
 
 She laughed. " Erica'll give him his come-uppings. 
 Don't you forget that, brother," she said tauntingly. 
 
 He left her abruptly. He passed a wretched night, 
 storming over this indignity to his friend. It has been 
 seen that his passion did not make him blind to Erica 
 Manners's faults; on the contrary, it rather seemed to 
 make him the more keenly aware of them. Because 
 Erica did a thing never made it seem right to him ; it was 
 more likely to seem wrong, utterly abominable. The pity 
 of it was that this never made any difference in his feeling 
 towards her. 
 
 Now, however, for the first time, some such contin- 
 gency threatened. It was as if someone whose deeds 
 one has invariably washed one's hands of, had attacked
 
 214 FIREWEED 
 
 one's mother. Stokes's friendship for Cotton was the 
 strongest affection of his life, and ranked next in depths 
 to his passion for Erica Manners. And when tidings 
 came thus to the younger man, indicating that she had 
 broken in upon the first real holiday of Cotton's life, 
 impinging upon his happiness and well being, he was 
 deeply and fiercely indignant. 
 
 It was so brazen an action, he repeated to himself 
 again and again, to thrust herself thus upon his daily 
 notice and recall so disagreeably to his mind that which 
 his friends had wished him to travel abroad to forget. 
 Furthermore, Erica was the sort of woman to be most 
 repellent of her sex to a simple, straightforward, chival- 
 rous soul like Cotton. He might leave the party, of 
 course, but Stokes knew how pleasant he had found 
 those with whom he and Nancy had crossed, and besides, 
 there was Nancy to consider. Her father would hate to 
 have her in constant contact with a woman like Mrs. 
 Manners, and yet he would hate to take her away from 
 the others, some of whom were her old friends. On the 
 whole, Stokes felt that he would remain, and his journey 
 would be of the nature of an enforced holiday in a hos- 
 pital or at the dentist's. 
 
 As for Erica, what in the name of common sense did 
 she mean by her behavior? Though he pondered long 
 over this matter, her lover could get no clew to the mys- 
 tery. Erica was selfish through and through, but he had 
 never believed her small nor mean. It didn't seem like 
 her to do anything like this for revenge, that she would 
 stoop to petty, nagging retaliation, particularly since she 
 must be herself nearly as uncomfortable as Cotton. In- 
 deed, when all was said, it must be more unpleasant for 
 her than for him. Erica wouldn't suffer discomfort with- 
 out good cause. There was some deep purpose under- 
 neath.
 
 FIREWEED 215 
 
 As he paced the floor of his bedroom in the small hours 
 of the morning, it came to Philip Stokes that his sister 
 might know of this further. It wasn't unlikely that 
 Erica would have informed her fully; she had always 
 been exceedingly frank with Delia, and would hardly 
 mention this inexplicable fact without explanation. And 
 he decided that he would have it out of Delia if he had 
 to remain here a week to put it through. 
 
 With that thought he went back to bed and fell at once 
 into sleep, troubled though it was. With the same thought 
 he woke in the early dawn. And with it still uppermost 
 in his mind, he waited impatiently for the first moment 
 when he might present himself before his sister's door, 
 which was not until twelve, noon. 
 
 But before that time something happened that drove 
 that and all else wholly from Philip Stokes's thoughts. 
 And he returned to the city without seeing Delia.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 Miss MELENDY had come to be as sensitive to the sight 
 of Mrs. Manners's square, gray letters with the bold, 
 handsome superscription as if she were herself jealously 
 interested in the writer. She had constantly to maneuver 
 to make them inconspicuous among the other mail, and 
 to keep Nancy from the letter rack. For they were 
 legion, those maddeningly uniform letters. It seemed to 
 Miss Melendy that they arrived by every mail, irrespective 
 of steamers. 
 
 On the fourth morning in Rome, Miss Melendy came 
 down ten minutes after the others, Nancy among them, 
 had set forth together for the Vatican. She found a 
 letter for herself and half-absently noted that there were 
 two for Mrs. Manners. There was none for anyone 
 else, which meant that the others had taken theirs along 
 with them. She rather wondered that Mrs. Manners 
 should have left hers. She had an elegant little bag to 
 match every gown or suit she wore, and even if she 
 wished to read them in the privacy of her room, the girl 
 couldn't understand her not wishing to have them with 
 her. 
 
 She stood for a few moments idly studying the super- 
 scription. What handsome M's the wretch made. But 
 the first E on this one was a bit queer, oh, it had 
 started to be an A. Perhaps her husband's name had 
 been Arthur no, more likely it was Aaron, he had left 
 such a pile to his widow. 
 
 216
 
 FIREWEED 217 
 
 Returning from rather a dreary morning in the Forum, 
 Miss Melendy learned that the others, with the excep- 
 tion of Nancy, were going back to the Vatican after 
 luncheon, as it would be closed all the next day. Appar- 
 ently, Mrs. Manners hadn't expected to return; but Dr. 
 Burgess begged her in the most flattering way (nauseous, 
 it seemed to poor Hank) to give them the benefit of her 
 experience and her way of looking at things, and laugh- 
 ing prettily at the idea of being of service, she declared 
 herself ready to go. 
 
 For herself, the girl remained with Nancy until four, 
 then took a cab to the Via dei due Macelli to buy some 
 photographs. Returning, she stopped mechanically be- 
 fore the letter rack. As she saw two more letters for 
 Mrs. Manners, she uttered an imprecation. 
 
 She noted another curious E. This, too, had started 
 to be an A. No, good heavens ! it was the very same 
 letter ! Mrs. Manners had left it there all day ! 
 
 On a sudden, she felt guilty. Possibly in her zeal to 
 hide the letters from Nancy, she had concealed them 
 from Mrs. Manners, and so deprived her of them all this 
 time. Knowing that Miss Lancaster had not gone out, 
 she carried them to the door. But Miss Lancaster in- 
 sisted upon her entering. 
 
 " These letters have been down there since morning. 
 I was afraid Mrs. Manners had missed them," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 " She missed them on purpose," said Miss Lancaster 
 with an unnatural shrug of her shoulders. " Dear me, I 
 do wish she would read her letters. They pile up so. 
 If she doesn't begin soon, she'll never get caught up." 
 
 And taking the two from Miss Melendy's hand she 
 dropped them wearily upon a pile containing at least one 
 other that was unopened. The girl could not believe 
 her eyes.
 
 218 FIREWEED 
 
 " Why, I never heard of anything like that ! " she ex- 
 claimed rather weakly. " My goodness ! when there's 
 always a perfect stampede for letters from home ! I 
 could almost shed a tear over a printed bond advertise- 
 ment." 
 
 " It is queer." Miss Lancaster stretched her long neck 
 and adjusted the pile neatly. " I'm crazy over them, too, 
 myself. But Erica never is like other people. And be- 
 sides, this particular correspondent, as I happen to know, 
 bores her terribly. Oh, Miss Melendy, don't go, please." 
 
 But Hank made an hasty retreat. Rushing to her room 
 to fetch her hat, she hurried forth again. 
 
 Recalling, in her need of retirement and quiet, the little 
 church at the corner where the Via S. Susanna descends 
 from the Piazza Barberini, she made her way thither. 
 Pushing the curtain, she entered the dark interior. 
 
 Confused and perplexed though she was, as Miss Me- 
 lendy seated herself, she was whimsically inquiring 
 whither this growing habit of requiring a church to do 
 her meditating in was to lead her. In America there 
 wasn't a church on every corner, and when there was, it 
 was shut and locked fast excepting on Sundays. And 
 anyhow, so far as her experience went, people at home 
 were too self-conscious to enter churches when there 
 wasn't a service scheduled. 
 
 But that, she reminded herself, was neither here nor 
 there. At this hour to-day she had only to ponder upon 
 this new development in the case of Nancy Cotton. Mrs. 
 Manners did not, after all, it seemed, care for the man 
 whom Nancy loved, his letters bored her. Apparently 
 he still cared for her or wanted her money. And yet, 
 since she didn't love him, villain though he might be, 
 there was hope for Nancy ! 
 
 Hank wondered why her heart did not leap at the real- 
 ization. Staring dumbly at the dimly lighted altar, she
 
 FIREWEED 219 
 
 seemed to herself to be more stony, and far more unfeel- 
 ing than the mild face that beamed down from above 
 it. She bowed her head and tried to murmur some 
 word of thanksgiving, but none came. Then she ut- 
 tered a little silent prayer for pardon, for what she knew 
 not. 
 
 Startled by a sigh, she raised her head. But the sigh 
 was her own. And giving over, perforce, for the mo- 
 ment, any direction of her thoughts, she became a prey 
 to wild speculations. 
 
 How had this come about? Why had Mrs. Manners 
 suddenly tired of her lover? She was, indeed, with her 
 shallow, flippant brilliancy, of the fickle type; but this 
 had been an affair of years. Had some other, greater 
 interest made this of lesser import and finally driven it 
 out? Ah! now Hank understood why she didn't feel 
 any exultation over her discovery. It was because there 
 was in her own heart something desperate and ugly to 
 struggle against and conquer before she should be decently 
 human again. 
 
 Oh, if only she could understand that scene at Assisi ! 
 Were Mrs. Manners's tears genuine? They seemed so, 
 and yet, somehow, she must have known that Mr. 
 Cotton was near. Her crossing herself before he came 
 in must have been simply by way of practise, though for 
 a person so graceful as the Lady Erica she had rather 
 bungled the business. But it had been for practise, and 
 it was very like her. 
 
 On a sudden, the girl sprang to her feet and flung 
 herself from the church as if she had been expelled by a 
 whirlwind. Hank was far from being a saint; but it 
 had suddenly struck her that her thoughts were ill-suited 
 to a place that was truly hallowed and made sacred by 
 the suffering, the sorrow, the repentance and the faith of 
 ages; that she had no right to allow her thoughts to
 
 220 FIREWEED 
 
 wander to this secondary, personal problem wherein she 
 feared she really wished to see things in their worst, 
 rather than their brightest aspect. 
 
 Without, almost at the very steps, she encountered 
 Cotton. Though she paled, her heart leaped secretly. 
 She had had no word with him for days, and the un- 
 feigned pleasure that beamed from his worn face was very 
 grateful. 
 
 As they turned together into S. Susanna, he explained 
 that he had come from the American Embassy just 
 around the corner. 
 
 " What do you think, Miss Melendy, I've been reading 
 home newspapers," he said with an eager note in his 
 voice. " They have all the principal ones in the long 
 room at the end of the passage. Of course the very 
 latest is upwards of a fortnight behind time, but " 
 
 " Don't you care," she said as he paused and shrugged 
 his shoulders expressively. 
 
 " Just so," he smiled, " and I found four men, three 
 from New York and one from Chicago, and we fell to 
 discussing politics, the way things were going on a 
 month ago, you know. I reckon we talked for an hour, 
 and well, Miss Melendy, I feel almost like a boy again." 
 
 " It means all that to you ? " the girl inquired wist- 
 fully. 
 
 Cotton smiled comically, and pursed his lips in rueful 
 fashion. 
 
 " I reckon it does, Miss Melendy, I reckon it does," 
 he confessed as if he were ashamed of his weakness. 
 " Traveling and sight-seeing are right pleasant, and I 
 don't know how I shall ever live without the Burgesses 
 again. And yet won't it seem good to be home again 
 and in the midst of things, knowing what's doing in Con- 
 gress and being able to keep an eye on Mexico? Trav- 
 elers are like those poor creatures Mrs. Manners was
 
 FIREWEED 221 
 
 speaking of the other day, belonging neither in heaven nor 
 in hell, wandering about in some neutral mid-space." 
 
 The irrelevant thought flashed through Miss Melendy's 
 mind that Mrs. Manners, whom he considered one of the 
 Burgesses, lived near him at home and he wouldn't lose 
 her. But she didn't allow herself to dwell upon it. This 
 wee bit of time was too precious to waste that way. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton, here you have been fooling us all 
 this time ! " she exclaimed. " Everyone thinks you the 
 most enthusiastic traveler that ever happened." 
 
 He laughed. " So I am, Miss Melendy, honest Injun. 
 After all, this is the first time since we landed, excepting 
 when I have been more worried about Nanny than usual, 
 that I haven't been altogether content to be over here. 
 For instance, these three days in Rome have been why 
 I feel more than ever before that a man's life is incom- 
 plete until he has seen the Roman Forum. It was only 
 that something in those home papers the mere look of 
 the familiar type sort of stole over me and made me 
 hungry for my own country. I haven't thought of it 
 before, but as I glanced at a New York paper, it came 
 over me that it would be mighty agreeable to be strolling 
 down Broadway even to be shoved and jostled along 
 when you wanted to take your time but understanding 
 every solitary word that was said anywhere about you, 
 and being able to read all the signs. To my mind, there's 
 nothing like the English language, unless, perhaps, 
 Cicero's orations, and I think Burke's are finer and Glad- 
 stone's not so far below." 
 
 " I wouldn't mind exchanging it for this blooming 
 baby-talk business myself," she admitted. "And I con- 
 fess I should like a good cup of coffee. Oh, yes, and I 
 should like to know how the league games are going. I 
 don't suppose you happened to notice ? " 
 
 " My dear Miss Melendy, I pitched all one season when
 
 222 FIREWEED 
 
 I was studying law, for the Cumberland Stars; and for 
 years afterwards when they got in a tight place they called 
 on me to help 'em out. There isn't a place on the diamond 
 I haven't held at one time or another." 
 
 Reaching the old wall, they paused a moment before 
 going under the arch. Cotton smiled reminiscently. 
 
 " Some used to say it was worth the price of admission 
 to see Cale Cotton make a home run," he said, " and as a 
 matter of fact, though you might not suspect it, my legs 
 are rather long." 
 
 Again, at the steps of the pension, they stopped. Cot- 
 ton drew out his familiar little red book, opened it and 
 handed it to Miss Melendy. To her surprise, there, 
 copied neatly upon opposite pages, were the scores, com- 
 plete up to less than three weeks earlier, of the two great 
 baseball leagues. She scanned them eagerly. 
 
 He took the cap from his stylographic pen. 
 
 " Let me have your note-book, Miss Melendy," he said, 
 holding out his hand, 
 
 Hank was filled with chagrin in having to confess that 
 none of her numerous pockets held any such thing. As 
 she went in and on to her room, she said to herself that 
 she would go out the first thing in the morning and get 
 one. 
 
 Less than an hour later when she went down to dinner, 
 however, she found at her place at the table occupied by 
 the party a charming little blank book bound in tooled 
 Florentine leather. Drawing out the little pencil that 
 closed it, she saw her name on the fly-leaf, with Rome 
 and the date. As she was the first one down, it didn't 
 matter that her eyes grew suddenly dim when she saw 
 that he had written not Miss nor Hannah but Hank. 
 And on the first page he had copied, still more beautifully 
 than in his own, the baseball record ! 
 
 As Mrs. Miles and Miss Williams entered the dining
 
 FIREWEED 223 
 
 room, she slipped it into her pocket. Nancy came in 
 alone, saying that her father would be late. She told 
 Hank, who always sat next her at table, that he had sud- 
 denly rushed out just after he had come in and had only 
 returned a few minutes ago. 
 
 When he came down ten minutes later, his face red 
 and shining from the friction of the towel, a sort of tri- 
 umphant content conquered its weariness. Hank caught 
 him on the way out. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton, you are an angel, sure, and not of 
 the Perugino type, either. You're the very best sort of 
 all, a true red-white-and-blue one, and I shall keep my 
 precious little book for ever and ever, amen ! " 
 
 He smiled. " Might I give you a memorandum to put 
 in it, Miss Melendy ? " he asked, looking down upon her 
 with so much friendliness in his eyes that the girl had 
 ado to control her voice. 
 
 " Sure, Mr. Cotton," she replied rather gruffly. 
 
 " Just so. Well, under date of Wednesday, put down 
 that we're all going out along the Appian Way to the 
 Catacombs, leaving the pension at two, and that we'll find 
 you in the lobby at one fifty-five. And for the next 
 morning, put down that it's Hadrian's Villa, and we go 
 at ten. Now Miss Melendy, may I please tell the doctor 
 to set you down for both ? " 
 
 " Oh, but you said dum and then you mentioned two 
 items, which would be da or dums, so the bond doesn't 
 hold, and I shall be obliged to decline," she said, trying 
 to speak lightly. 
 
 Of course Caleb Cotton understood why Miss Melendy 
 had suddenly ceased to participate in the activities of the 
 party as a party. He partly understood why the girl 
 should feel as she seemed to feel, and hardly wondered. 
 Yet he believed she was wrong. He couldn't help feeling 
 that if she could once get thoroughly acquainted with
 
 224 FIREWEED 
 
 Mrs. Manners, the whole question would be settled. And 
 he wished for the sake of the latter, that it might come 
 about. He felt that it would be good for Mrs. Manners 
 to know Miss Melendy. 
 
 " You know, Miss Melendy, it doesn't seem the same 
 party without you," he urged. " There seems to be a 
 great huge vacuum in our midst all the time. And you 
 know that's what whirlwinds and water spouts form 
 about." 
 
 " My place is more than filled," she said almost bit- 
 terly. " And besides, I think one gets more going about 
 alone or with only one pal. And I get dead sick of oh, 
 so much Shakespeare and the musical glasses." 
 
 The phrase struck Caleb Cotton oddly. He thrust his 
 hands deep into his pockets. 
 
 " I don't doubt that, Miss Melendy, I don't doubt it at 
 all," he said very kindly, realizing how sore the girl's 
 heart must be. " But somehow, I don't feel that it's like 
 you, even so, to hold off from us like that. It would be 
 more like you to disregard all that and only consider how 
 we want and need your presence. Now just you think it 
 over, and if you can see your way to doing this, why, 
 do." 
 
 " I'll come," the girl said quietly. " Dr. Burgess may 
 put me down for both." 
 
 And she fled to her room precipitately.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Miss MELENDY spent the evening alone, sitting by her 
 window. At about the time she was retiring, Mrs. Man- 
 ners seated herself by one of the windows of her great 
 handsome corner room, remaining here until after the 
 late, waned moon rose above the old wall. 
 
 Gazing out through the dimness upon the old Roman 
 wall with its grass grown parapet, Erica lost herself in 
 reverie. Perugia, Assisi, Siena, lay behind her, fair 
 visions all, with perhaps fairer prospects before, the only 
 shadow being the thought of the end of the summer, the 
 return to America. 
 
 But before that stretched six weeks, and what was 
 it someone said about forty days being a lifetime? They 
 were to remain in Rome ten days or a fortnight ; a week 
 was to be divided between Venice and the Italian lakes, 
 and then there was a choice : they could spend two weeks 
 in Switzerland and the Rhine cities or visit Vienna, Dres- 
 den and Berlin. Those who preferred the latter route 
 were to fall in at Venice with a party conducted by a 
 sister of Dr. Burgess, rejoining the others at Boulogne 
 to take the boat for New York. 
 
 Like the greater number of the others, Erica had 
 secretly waited to learn Cotton's choice. He had elected 
 to remain with Dr. Burgess largely because of his liking 
 for him, but also because he wished to get a glimpse of 
 Bingen (which he called Binjen}, a place which lingered 
 in the holy-land of his imagination from a favorite poem 
 of his boyhood. 
 
 225
 
 226 FIREWEED 
 
 As she reflected upon it, Erica acknowledged humbly 
 that while Cotton would be content to have her in the 
 group with him, he never would have dreamed of making 
 his plan contingent upon any choice of hers. Further- 
 more, he would be equally pleased with a similar decision 
 on the part of any other member of the party with the 
 exception of Miss Lancaster, and much more so in the 
 case of Mrs. Miles and Miss Melendy. Indeed, if the 
 latter had decided to go by the Austrian and German 
 route, quite likely he would have taken Nancy that way, 
 Bin jen or no Bin j en. 
 
 A boy's voice sounded faintly in the distance, singing 
 the air of an old Venetian boat song, blithely and mu- 
 sically but with a curious accent, due to the heavy burden 
 he bore on his head. Erica listened entranced until the 
 last notes died away in the distance. 
 
 Now the old wall seemed in the intense quiet to 
 breathe out a peace that was like a fairer, subtler melody, 
 a peace out of centuries of suffering, an harmony out of 
 din of battle and pride of empire quieted for centuries. 
 Resting her head on her hand, her eyes fixed upon 
 the ruined parapet, Erica seemed to see dimly a pro- 
 cession of all that past glory and pain. All those 
 men of mighty valor, all those stately, heroic women ; 
 she shrank back as the thought struck her that they 
 had struggled to the very end, a lifelong struggle. 
 .Why shouldn't they have had their share of peace, of 
 reward, of whatever it was they most wanted, in fine ? 
 Why should all the monuments of this old city, which 
 was in itself an epitome of the history of the world, be 
 ruins inscribed with the legend that therein lies the end 
 of struggle and endeavor? 
 
 Turning from the window as if to shut out the vision, 
 she folded her hands in her lap and stared into the dark- 
 ness. What was life worth, in short, she asked herself,
 
 FIREWEED 227 
 
 if the reward of all the struggling, all the sorrow and 
 pain, came only at the end, or more likely after the end 
 or if there wasn't any reward at all, only end? Mr. Cot- 
 ton would say that the struggle itself was life. He would 
 welcome the fact that the road winds up-hill all the way. 
 He would welcome it, that is to say, for himself, and 
 Erica felt sadly convinced that he wouldn't hesitate to 
 prescribe it for her. But how about Nancy, his daugh- 
 ter? He appeared quite willing that she should lie on 
 flowery beds of ease. And that beloved Grace who had 
 entered into eternal life eleven years ago? Erica didn't 
 fancy that he had wanted her to endure hardness. 
 
 Then, there was Miss Melendy. How would he feel 
 in regard to Miss Melendy? Erica winced. For it was 
 borne in upon her that Miss Melendy was just the sort of 
 person who would voluntarily choose the hard, yes, even 
 the heroic way. She had known it and walked therein 
 long before she had met him. No wonder he so liked 
 her. 
 
 The night was yet more silent, but now as Erica turned 
 restlessly to the window, the wall was bathed in shallow, 
 silvery light from a fragment of moon which had just 
 made its way above the horizon. Dropping her head 
 wearily upon the wide sill, she sighed as she wished her 
 thoughts weren't always harping on Miss Melendy. And 
 she wished to heaven she weren't so fatally clear-sighted, 
 that she didn't see Miss Melendy's virtues so plainly. 
 For, deep down in her heart, she suspected that she hated 
 the girl, hated her not for any hateful qualities, but 
 because she hadn't any. 
 
 The sound of a light step below the window distracted 
 her attention. She looked out just in time to see a tall, 
 lank figure disappearing through the arch. It was Cot- 
 ton, of course, and of course he was off to see the Colos- 
 seum by the romantic light of this late moon.
 
 228 FIREWEED 
 
 A wild, futile desire took possession of her. She felt 
 as if she must throw on her cloak and follow him. She 
 would catch up with him, tuck her hand through his arm 
 and say : " Take me along, please, Mr. Cotton. I should 
 love above all else to see the Colosseum by the light of this 
 fantastic moon and with you. I'll be so quiet you'll 
 hardly know I'm there. I won't say one word, honestly 
 I won't." 
 
 Tears came to her eyes. " I'd do it in a minute, if I 
 thought he wouldn't mind, but he would," she said 
 humbly. And she owned that Miss Melendy could have 
 accomplished it more simply and naturally. And he 
 would have been delighted to have her companionship. 
 
 She followed him nevertheless in imagination. He 
 would walk, of course, every step of the way. Oh, those 
 long, tireless legs of his. They reminded her of those 
 words in the Bible about those who should run and not 
 be weary. Now, he would be in Santa Susanna, striding 
 over the hill as usual as if it were up-grade that gives 
 one momentum. Now he would be pausing before the 
 fountain in the piazza, he never could get by a foun- 
 tain without stopping. And how he loved them! He 
 would cover the distance between that and the great 
 fountain near the railway station in a few strides. An- 
 other pause. Now, he would be sauntering slowly down 
 the Via Cavour, it was his curious way to saunter 
 down hills and race up. Then, turning to the left, he 
 would hasten on until he was rushing up the hill whence 
 he could look down upon the Colosseum. 
 
 Ah, and now he would be among the ruins, with that, 
 mystical, romantic fragment of moon, that smudge of 
 brightness, shining down upon them from the serene 
 heaven. Erica saw him sitting there in the shadow, his 
 Panama hat under his arm, his hair ruffled all about his 
 face from mopping his brow with his great sheet-like
 
 FIREWEED 229 
 
 pocket handkerchief. She could even see the look of 
 wonder and solemn joy and deep protesting sympathy 
 upon that plain face, could almost read therefrom his 
 visions of foregone Roman splendor, gorgeous spectacle, 
 sinner, saint and martyr. 
 
 Presently a little sob escaped her, and she left the 
 window abruptly. Coming in contact with a table she 
 knocked off a book which fell heavily. 
 
 "Did you call, Erica?" Miss Lancaster drawled in a 
 sleepy tone. 
 
 " I was speaking to the old Roman wall," replied Erica, 
 realizing she would not be understood, " and this is what 
 I was saying: 
 
 " ' Shut them in 
 
 With their glory and their triumphs and the rest, 
 Love is best.' "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THEY had just visited the painting of Saint Michael 
 and the Dragon in the little Church of the Capuchins near 
 the American Consulate, and Mrs. Miles, Miss Cameron, 
 Maude Griffiths and Mrs. Manners had returned to St. 
 Peter's to see the copy in mosaic a second time. The 
 latter had dropped behind the others as they entered the 
 great cathedral. 
 
 It was still early on a fair morning. As Erica stood 
 idly by one of the great pillars, a young Italian couple 
 approached an altar near by. They were handsome peas- 
 ants, youth and maiden, and the girl mother carried a 
 fair-haired child some nine or ten months old. Even as 
 Erica's eyes wandered to the graceful little group, the 
 child suddenly uttered a little cry of joy for the bright 
 colors, and stretched out its little hands in a baby's ecstasy 
 of happiness. The eyes of mother and father met, with 
 something so lovely, so sacred in their light that Erica 
 averted her own quickly. As she dashed the tears from 
 them, she felt that that had been the loveliest picture of 
 the Holy Family she had ever looked upon. 
 
 All that day the vision haunted her, the child with its 
 outstretched hands, the mother with the shy love in her 
 dark eyes, and the protecting affection of the young 
 father guarding both. And a curious longing that had 
 seized upon her even as she had turned away from the 
 sight returned again and again, a longing unlike anything 
 she had ever experienced. She wanted to take those baby 
 hands in hers and cover them with kisses, she wanted 
 
 230
 
 FIREWEED 231 
 
 to hold that little form in her arms and cherish and 
 fondle it. 
 
 Excusing herself, she had gone directly back to the 
 pension and had shut herself into her room. And remem- 
 brance of the child she had herself borne came to her. 
 But her child came back, not as a warm, blithe little 
 creature like the beautiful baby in St. Peter's, but rather 
 as a fact, a hard, cruel fact. For Erica could not really 
 remember her baby, could not recall how it had looked. 
 With all her striving, no image came to her, only a 
 dim sense of a wailing, sickly little thing in a far away 
 chamber that wasn't even called a nursery. She had vis- 
 ited it, of course, but she hadn't really looked at it squarely 
 and unflinchingly. And now she could see only a crib 
 and blankets, a trained nurse and a little nursemaid. 
 Suppose there were really a heaven such as Mr. Cotton 
 so naively believed in and spoke of? If she should find 
 her baby there, she wouldn't know it. 
 
 It was, of course, the love between this father and 
 mother that made the difference. Perhaps if the situation 
 had been otherwise in her case, she might have loved her 
 child. Ah ! she didn't know. Only, she could love it 
 now, she could almost love that little image of the 
 Christ-child she had seen just now, and her heart began 
 to yearn strangely for her own. And looking back to 
 last night, she wondered whether that conclusion, " Love 
 is best " belonged most truly of all to this group with the 
 happy innocent child in their midst. 
 
 Her pensiveness deepened into sadness and into de- 
 pression. Then, as she sat in her room with idle hands 
 in her lap, suddenly there came upon her in the midst of 
 her melancholy, like a flash from the heavens, a blow 
 from the past. There was probably no other word spoken 
 during the course of the trial that had not come back to 
 Erica Manners at one time or another except this; for
 
 232 FIREWEED 
 
 some reason, this had, up to this moment, utterly escaped 
 her. Now, out of the darkness and blankness, she heard 
 Cotton's scathing denunciation of her as a recreant 
 mother. It fell like a whip of scorpions and she cowered 
 and writhed under it. Stokes to the contrary notwith- 
 standing, Erica had suffered during the course of that 
 trial; but she had suffered nothing that could be com- 
 pared with the agony that overwhelmed her now, the 
 tempest that had broken upon true halcyon weather. 
 
 She did not go down for lunch. And when the hour 
 came at which they were to leave the pension for the 
 Catacombs, she felt really ill. But it came to her that 
 she couldn't endure this longer : she must get out of her- 
 self ; she must have the relief of mingling with the others. 
 She left her room and slipped into the place assigned her 
 at the last moment. 
 
 Wherefore her white face caused no comment. Her 
 companions in the carriage, Miss Cameron, Miss Grif- 
 fiths and Miss Williams, attributed it to the heat, which 
 was intense. The dust, too, was so thick that Dr. Bur- 
 gess wished he had arranged to go by motor cars ; and in 
 this carriage, at any rate, they were very quiet. Erica 
 realized vaguely that Miss Melendy rode with the Cot- 
 tons, but did not realize that this was the first time in 
 weeks the girl had taken part in any outing of the whole 
 party. As they halted before the tomb of Cecelia Me- 
 teUa, she heard Mary Little's high, ringing laugh, but it 
 was only through the amused comment of Miss Cameron 
 and Miss Griffiths that her attention was directed to Cot- 
 ton, who had alighted and stood close by the Italian guide, 
 his little red book in hand, jotting down statistics, later 
 she learned that he recorded the number of metres from 
 that point to the end of the Appian Way at Brindisi. 
 
 Not long after, they again came to a stop; and now 
 everyone excepting herself and Nancy Cotton alighted
 
 FIREWEED 233 
 
 and entered an open field at the left for a celebrated view 
 of the Campagna and aqueducts. After the dust had 
 settled, a fresh, pungently sweet odor rose from beneath 
 their feet and penetrated to the highway. As they 
 trooped back to the carriages, everyone had a pleasant 
 word for Mrs. Manners, and Cotton, coming last, gave 
 her half the greens he had gathered for Nancy. It was 
 Roman thyme, more pungent and less delicate than the 
 English thyme, but very grateful after the heat and dust. 
 Moreover, it meant something further to Erica. She had 
 lost her sense of time and place. It was only a few hours 
 since that she had heard him brand her womanhood in 
 terms so scathing that she felt she could never meet his 
 eyes again, never look into his face. Wherefore it 
 seemed at the moment as if this offering, this old-fash- 
 ioned, wholesome, bitter-sweet herb, were a token of his 
 charity if not of forgiveness, an earnest that he was big 
 enough and good enough to feel that she could outlive 
 even this great wrong. 
 
 At the entrance to the Catacombs, a brown-robed, 
 bearded brother was waiting to conduct them into the 
 subterranean. Leaving Nancy in a little arbor, the oth- 
 ers, Erica included, followed after him. Descending the 
 stone stair, their light chatter ceased. Even Mary Little 
 became silent and serious as they stood in the antecham- 
 ber and received their lighted candles. 
 
 They had provided themselves with heavy wraps, but 
 after the extreme heat the chill of the place was so intense 
 as to be depressing, almost appalling. Erica, who had 
 eaten nothing since morning, and who had suffered poign- 
 antly for hours, felt it more keenly than the others. She 
 dropped behind a little, absently aware of Cotton, who 
 had never seemed so thin and tall as now, towering high 
 above the fat monk, taper in hand, his head seeming to 
 touch the top of the cavernous passage.
 
 234 FIREWEED 
 
 The guide, who spoke English fluently, though with a 
 strong and often comical Italian accent, and who had not 
 once paused in his continual recital, halted the party and 
 began to tell the story of Saint Cecelia; and Erica stood 
 at the edge of the group gazing at the beautiful, touching 
 effigy of the high-born martyr. The brother related the 
 tale with fire and with strong, almost brutal realism, and 
 Erica like the others hung upon his words. But when 
 she saw tears spilling from Mary Little's blue eyes upon 
 her rosy cheeks, a sudden f aintness came over her. 
 
 Moving out of the sound of his voice, or at such dis- 
 tance that she could not distinguish his words, she tried 
 to collect herself. She extinguished her candle, for she 
 trembled so that she feared to set fire to her clothing, 
 and leaned against the wall. But she shrank from 
 its chill dampness, and remembering that it was lined 
 with sepulchres, stood away in a shuddering panic of 
 dread. 
 
 The next thing she was aware of was that the brother's 
 voice had ceased. Peering ahead, she saw that they had 
 all gone on. Their candles wavered at a distance where 
 they had apparently stopped again. Erica said to herself 
 she must join them the instant they moved on. 
 
 But somehow, she seemed to have lost consciousness 
 for a few seconds, for when she looked again, the candles 
 had disappeared. Rousing herself with an effort, she 
 followed what she believed to be the direction they must 
 have taken, turning sharply to the right. After a few 
 steps, however, she heard voices in exactly the opposite 
 direction, and retracing her steps, or attempting so to do, 
 entered another passage. Groping along for some dis- 
 tance without hearing or seeing anything, she turned back 
 and tried again. Now she seemed somehow to find her- 
 self upon a lower level, threading a passage under the one 
 through which they had started. She turned again and
 
 FIREWEED 235 
 
 yet again. And now, she had lost all sense of direction. 
 As the awful certainty that she was lost lost in the 
 Catacombs came over her, a panic of fear paralyzed 
 her. 
 
 Crouching in the middle of the aisle, conscious of 
 sepulchres all about her, she stood shudderingly still, 
 fearing to reach out an hand lest she encounter some- 
 thing. The darkness and silence were fearful, the chill, 
 benumbing. It came to her that one might go on in the 
 so-called streets of the Catacombs for miles and miles and 
 miles was it not hundreds of miles in all that they 
 amounted to? Mr. Cotton would have it recorded in his 
 little red book the exact number of miles. But even if 
 the sum total were only a dozen, there would be no hope 
 for her. Two miles would be fatal, indeed. She was 
 somehow in a labyrinth and would only walk round and 
 round till she dropped and died. 
 
 Oh, if only she needn't drop until she died ! She would 
 be dead when they found her, perhaps to-morrow, perhaps 
 in a week. They wouldn't discover that she was missing 
 until to-night. Miss Cameron would think she had re- 
 turned in another carriage and only when Libby Lancas- 
 ter asked for her, would it all come out. It would be 
 very late by that time, so that it would be morning before 
 any search could be made, and then there would be all 
 those miles and miles ! And meanwhile Erica sickened 
 with horror she would be alone in this place of tombs. 
 
 It came to her that perchance she was alone now. She 
 had no idea how much time had elapsed an hour may 
 have passed already, and her moment of unconsciousness 
 might really have been an hour. She wasn't at all sure 
 that those were voices she had heard. It might have been 
 only murmurs in her ears. 
 
 Of course ! They were gone already ! They were even 
 now driving back over the Appian Way in the sweet,
 
 236 FIREWEED 
 
 warm sunshine, among grass and trees and living human 
 creatures, and she was alone among the dead ! 
 
 And what a dread loneliness was that ! Even a child's 
 company would mean much. And again the image of 
 the morning came back to Erica, and the thought of her 
 own child. And now it came to her mind that had that 
 child lived, it would be six years old, nearly seven a 
 little girl of seven ! Ah ! suppose she had lived and were 
 here now? How different it would be. She would not 
 have given over thus. She would have taken the little 
 thing's hand in hers ; for her sake, she would have kept 
 up her courage, talking cheerfully lest she be frightened. 
 They never would have remained standing still in this 
 dreary, huddled fashion ; they would have gone one way 
 and then another, and they would have turned and twisted 
 and kept on. They would have shouted, alone and in 
 unison. They would have persisted for any length of 
 time, each for the sake of the other. For, oh, a little 
 girl of seven may be very thoughtful and mature. 
 
 She tried to shout now, but it was like the effort in a 
 nightmare. She scarcely made a sound. Neither could 
 she stand longer without support. Groping for the side 
 of the passage, she leaned fearfully against it. 
 
 Closing her eyes, she opened them immediately, for that 
 seemed like death. Suddenly her thoughts turned to 
 Caleb Cotton. He would be sorry when they found her 
 dead. It would be like him, simple and noble as he was, 
 to forget all the past and be sorry just as if they had 
 been old friends. And she clasped her hands, thinking 
 feverishly that he would like it if they found her so. 
 Then, lest there be something dishonest in that pos- 
 ture, she endeavored to justify it by murmuring a 
 prayer. 
 
 The only words that came to her seemed far away and 
 comfortless: "Almighty and everlasting God, who has*
 
 FIREWEED 237 
 
 brought us safely to the beginning of this day, defend us 
 in the same with thy mighty power." But she could think 
 of no other, and straining her clasped hands against her 
 breast, she repeated these over and over. And presently 
 they seemed to grow familiar, and so to rise from her 
 heart as if they were not cried to deaf ears. 
 
 " Defend us in the same with thy mighty power ! " 
 On a sudden a far-away sound smote the stillness. Erica 
 stood erect, breathless, waiting for a repetition. Again, 
 she heard it, but, alas ! more faintly. It must have been 
 the last living being leaving the place ! She could not be 
 heard, even if she shouted, and she could not utter a 
 sound. 
 
 She strove vainly. Only a faint moan, which fright- 
 ened herself, escaped her. But that moan was answered 
 by a cry, a cheerful shout in a well-known, yes, a beloved 
 voice. And almost immediately a flicker of light was 
 visible which straightway became a candle, and she saw 
 the tall, stooping figure of Cotton advancing towards her, 
 outlined against that of the stout brown priest. A mo- 
 ment more, and she fell half fainting into his arms. 
 
 They got her out and up into the daylight she was 
 near the entrance, as it happened and the guide went 
 back for the others. Cotton half led, half carried Mrs. 
 Manners to a little rude chapel behind the building that 
 served as a lodge at the gate, and sat down with her at 
 one of the forms. There was no back to the rude bench, 
 and he had to support her with his arm. 
 
 Utterly unstrung, Erica buried her face in his shoulder 
 and burst into a paroxysm of weeping. Cotton, all con- 
 sternation and pity, but unabashed, treated her as if she 
 had been Nancy, patting her shoulder and saying " There, 
 there ! " in a soothing way that went straight to her heart. 
 After the violence of her sobbing ceased, she lay passive, 
 too exhausted to think or move.
 
 238 FIREWEED 
 
 A younger brother, beardless and tall and thin, entered the 
 chapel and seated himself at a desk at the side, facing the 
 benches. Gravely opening a large book with hand copied 
 and illuminated musical notation across its broad pages, 
 he began to intone the words or notes in a determined, 
 rather unmusical but very businesslike manner, paying no 
 attention to the two before him, as if it were quite the 
 usual thing to confront a young lady weeping in the arms 
 of a gentleman. 
 
 But Erica started at the sound, collected herself with 
 an effort, raised her head and changed her position. For 
 a few moments, she hid her face on the desk before them. 
 Then she drew a fresh handkerchief from the pocket of 
 her jacket and dried her eyes. 
 
 Pushing back the loose hair from about her face, she 
 looked up. She was still so weak that she could just 
 articulate. 
 
 " I was frightened oh, I was terribly frightened," 
 she said, trying to smile. " I had been there for 
 hours! I thought no one would come until I was 
 dead." 
 
 " God forbid ! " he said so simply and warmly and 
 kindly that tears filled her eyes again. 
 
 " There are miles and miles in the Catacombs, aren't 
 there ? " she asked in tones of horror, going yet paler. 
 
 He drew out his little red book. 
 
 " Five hundred and forty-five miles, if you follow all 
 the passages," he stated. 
 
 Erica laughed out suddenly. At the sweet silvery 
 sound, the young brother, who had persevered method- 
 ically up to this moment, lost his place and had to go back 
 half a page. But none marked the shade of disapproval 
 on his brow. 
 
 " Oh, I knew you'd know ! " she cried gaily, though 
 with a little sob. " I thought of it in the midst of every-
 
 FIREWEED 239 
 
 thing, how you'd be sure to have it down in your little 
 red book." 
 
 He pursed his lips in his droll way. 
 
 " Now you're poking fun at me," he declared. 
 
 " Not at all ! " rejoined Erica unsteadily. Her lip quiv- 
 ered. But a chance sound averted an outburst. She 
 caught Mary Little's laugh. 
 
 " Good heavens, there are the others ! " she cried. " Do 
 let me get back to my carriage before any of them see me. 
 I simply can't be pitied or anything now ! " 
 
 Cotton led her to the carriage at once. She declared 
 she was all right and he fetched Nancy and met the 
 others. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Cotton, how did it happen? The frate 
 didn't seem to understand ! " cried Miss Little. 
 
 " I don't rightly understand myself, Miss Little," he 
 returned. " Mrs. Manners didn't feel like going into ex- 
 planations. But we found her at once, as the brown 
 brother must have told you. He seemed to know just 
 where she would be, you know, and there she was. Her 
 candle had gone out, you see." 
 
 Miss Melendy hardly saw. As she passed Mrs. Man- 
 ners on the way to her carriage, the girl glanced keenly 
 at her. Mrs. Manners looked excited and really lovely 
 with her pink cheeks and ruffled hair. But she didn't 
 look frightened or 'disturbed. She seemed perfectly 
 at her ease, and to be waiting for a word or a smile 
 from Cotton as he should pass her carriage. Miss 
 Melendy couldn't help feeling it had been a bit of act- 
 ing- 
 She saw, however, when he joined Nancy and herself, 
 that Cotton credited it, and that he had been strongly 
 moved. She resented the false appeal to his chivalrous 
 soul, but she said nothing to anyone in regard to the 
 matter. And she was still unconvinced next morning
 
 24 o FIREWEED 
 
 when Mrs. Manners did not appear for the excursion to 
 Tivoli, but sent Miss Lancaster to take her place. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Erica was really ill from the effects 
 of that terrible day. She had had a wakeful, feverish 
 night, and looked like a wan ghost when she came from 
 her room dressed for the drive. But she was so weak 
 and giddy that she stopped at the threshold and gave it up. 
 
 She passed a wretched day alone, unable to eat, sleep 
 or rest. Again and again she lived over the horror of 
 the experience in the Catacombs. And when she got 
 away from that briefly, it was only to have the scene in 
 the little chapel come back to her distressingly and with- 
 out its humorous relief. She had thrown herself into 
 Cotton's arms and wept on his shoulder. What would he 
 think of her! Now, she was sure that she could never 
 look into his face again ! 
 
 The long day wore itself out. Miss Lancaster re- 
 turned, got Erica some tea and toast, which she hardly 
 touched, and then went down for her own dinner. Be- 
 fore she came back, Cotton came to the door to see how 
 Mrs. Manners felt. 
 
 He found her very pale with dark circles beneath her 
 eyes, which in themselves looked darker and very appeal- 
 ing, somehow. He came in and sat down, not to keep 
 her standing. She answered his kindly inquiries per- 
 functorily, and asked in turn about his day. He com- 
 mented upon the trip in his droll way, and Erica, dis- 
 tressed as she was, did not lose one syllable of the recital. 
 
 Then a pause fell between them. 
 
 Erica sighed as she looked up. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton, I don't know what you think of me 
 because of yesterday ? " she faltered. 
 
 " I certainly do not think the less of you, Mrs. Man- 
 ners, for being upset under those circumstances," he said 
 cordially. " You know, I think I should have been
 
 FIREWEED 241 
 
 scared blue myself, feeling myself lost underground 
 among the tombs." 
 
 She shuddered nervously. 
 
 " But that wasn't all," she remarked presently. " To 
 cry like that leaning on you, and as soon as the 
 monk came in, I stopped, you know, just as if I might 
 have done so before, or as if I needn't have given way 
 in the first place." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners, not at all," he declared emphat- 
 ically. " The brother startled you. He challenged your 
 attention, and that moment of f orgetf ulness restored your 
 self-control. It was perfectly natural, the whole thing. 
 And now, if I were you, I shouldn't dwell upon it any 
 more. Can't you just make an effort and put it all out 
 of your mind ? " 
 
 It wasn't so much the words as the spirit of kindness 
 Erica felt, a quite inexpressible kindness, unless one 
 understood it as the expression of the absolute unselfish- 
 ness of a warm-hearted, imaginative nature. It touched 
 Erica Manners deeply. She had always been frank, 
 albeit in an insolent, often brutal way, with that frank- 
 ness which is only one of the luxuries of the wealthy 
 and powerful, which does not have its root in the love 
 of truth, and which would resent an answering frankness. 
 But she had never before been so straightforward, so 
 absolutely honest as now. 
 
 " There was more to it than getting lost, Mr. Cotton," 
 she owned, clasping her hands tightly, " more even than 
 getting faint and sick from hearing about Saint Cecilia. 
 It all began in the morning at St. Peter's. A little child 
 that stretched out its hand to the bright colors made 
 me " 
 
 She was deathly white, as for an instant she raised her 
 eyes desperately to his. 
 
 " It made me think of my own baby," she said. "I
 
 242 FIREWEED 
 
 wanted her. I was wretched and terribly sorry that 
 I hadn't loved her. She would have been nearly 
 seven. It's too late now, even to think of it, and I don't 
 know that even remorse does any good except that it's 
 a terrible punishment." 
 
 " Not punishment," he protested, " not punishment, I 
 believe, so much as consequence. I don't like to speak 
 as if the good God dealt in punishments. I rather feel 
 that in his all-wisdom, he ordained that we should bear 
 the responsibility for our deeds, yes, even unto the 
 second generation. The whole universe is so ordered 
 effect follows cause. That is the first lesson the child 
 learns, and all his life he observes the same law fulfilling 
 itself all about him, in little as in large. And he grad- 
 ually learns that when he acts voluntarily, uses his pre- 
 rogative of free will, he sets certain forces in motion 
 which the whole universe works out, but for which he 
 must answer to his own conscience." 
 
 " * Our fatal shadows that walk by us still,' " she mur- 
 mured sadly. " And yet," she added, " after all, so many 
 people have a chance to go back and undo wrong actions 
 and make things right. And others the thing is done 
 inevitably ; one cannot call the dead back from the grave." 
 
 " Perhaps, as they tell us, if we knew all, we shouldn't 
 want to. And that difference, Mrs. Manners, doesn't lie 
 in the persons, but in the nature of the acts. And it's 
 cause bringing forth result in every case. If things were 
 labeled more or less dangerous, you know, remediable 
 or inevitable, we shouldn't be free agents, and life 
 wouldn't be an arena in which to test our strength, a 
 struggle to try our nerves and sinews, our hearts and 
 souls, and to call forth the best that's in us. It would 
 be a silly sort of kindergarten, and we'd be bored idiots 
 at the end." 
 
 His droll dismay at the vision he had evoked made
 
 FIREWEED 243 
 
 Erica smile in spite of herself, but she fell back into 
 depression. 
 
 " Nevertheless, when one has committed the inevitable 
 sort and has them behind one there isn't, after all, much 
 hope," she said. 
 
 " Perhaps there's only the more," he urged. " You 
 mentioned our fatal shadows, well, perhaps standing in 
 that fatal shadow is one condition of high attainment, 
 it may be an handicap that makes the race the more 
 thrilling and the prize the more worth while. To know 
 the shadow is there, to keep it from touching other lives 
 or spoiling our own, to understand what darkness such 
 shadows may harbor, and so guard others against them, 
 why, all that might seem to promise that a man might 
 die with his boots on. And what could be finer ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! " she cried, lifted out of herself. And 
 silence fell between them. 
 
 Presently, as Cotton made a motion to rise, Erica 
 spoke. 
 
 " I can't understand how it is, Mr. Cotton," she said 
 seriously, " but you comfort me and give me strength to 
 go on, and yet not by saying comforting things. You 
 make me want to do things that aren't at all like me. 
 You give me bitter medicine, and though it tastes bitter, 
 it seems better than sweet. You don't excuse or con- 
 done. You point out hard paths up-hill, and somehow 
 make one think that the one thing worth while is to 
 climb and climb and reach more hills to climb ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners, it isn't me, it's just the lesson life 
 itself teaches," he returned, " that the experience of all 
 the ages has taught. And it seems to me the finest proof 
 that man was created a little lower than the angels that 
 we are given hard lessons to learn and stiff problems to 
 figure out instead of such kindergarten play as I spoke 
 of just now."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Miss MELENDY sat alone on the Spanish Steps, gazing 
 idly down upon the fountain where three little gamins 
 were playing in the water, and upon the throng of people, 
 cabs and carts moving through the piazza.. Despite the 
 publicity of the place, she found real retirement, for 
 placards below warned sightseers that S.S. Trinita de' 
 Monti was closed during repairs, so that the only persons 
 to ascend the thoroughfare were those to whom it was 
 truly a thoroughfare, Romans returning home from work 
 or other commerce of the day. And the procession of 
 these only added to the sense of privacy. 
 
 Nancy was not so well to-day, and Miss Melendy was 
 harping on the old question. She felt exceedingly remiss. 
 Any other than she would long since, she felt sure, have 
 resolved the tangle that enmeshed Nancy's youth and 
 happiness. But she, who had the end in her hand, as it 
 were, had something tangible to work upon, had made 
 no move all this while. If Mrs. Manners had ever cared 
 for the man Nancy loved, she had ceased to do so. She 
 was bored by his letters, and she was plainly angling for 
 another man. Stokes was, therefore, willy-nilly free; 
 but he did not know it and neither did Nancy. 
 
 Quite likely the former was content not to know it; 
 but what of Nancy? If she knew, might not a ray of 
 hope lighten the blackness of her heavy heart? The 
 slightest hope, Miss Melendy felt, would mean some- 
 thing to the girl ; it might mean much. And she needed 
 help desperately. 
 
 Miss Melendy asked herself how would it do to say to 
 
 244
 
 FIREWEED 245 
 
 Nancy that Mrs. Manners allowed her home letters to 
 collect unread? No, Nancy wouldn't see through it; 
 nothing would make her understand unless the letters 
 should cease and she should be apprised of the fact. 
 
 They wouldn't, however, stop unless Mrs. Manners 
 ordered them so to do, and she would never do that. 
 She would continue her desperate flirtation with Mr. Cot- 
 ton ; but she would never risk losing the other, the sure 
 lover. She wanted him to fall back upon in case 
 But no, there was no question but that failure confronted 
 the lady in that direction. Nevertheless, in that she had 
 in secret actually thrown over her former lover in pur- 
 suit of Mr. Cotton, she ought to be compelled to do so 
 openly. 
 
 A momentary lull had fallen upon the Spanish Steps. 
 Hank looked about her to find herself alone. The quiet 
 seemed even to extend to the piazza, below, for she heard 
 the, fountain playing. She listened passively for a little, 
 then rose half reluctantly. The water seemed to call 
 her. 
 
 As she slowly descended, the girl was making excuses 
 to herself. It was probably true that she would never 
 have come to care so much for fountains if it had not 
 been for Mr. Cotton's naive delight in them. And yet, 
 there was nothing very wicked in that! If it was an 
 acquired taste, it was certainly an innocent one. And if 
 it were sentimental well, she didn't care a hang! 
 
 Before she reached the basin, cabs were rattling again, 
 and traffic of all sorts was noisier than ever. As Miss 
 Melendy brushed past two stout women who stood in the 
 little island to rest their tired feet, on a sudden her heart 
 began to beat violently, like a bass drum, it seemed to 
 her. For there on the further side, listening and gazing, 
 stood Cotton. 
 
 For the first time since her early teens, Miss Melendy
 
 246 FIREWEED 
 
 felt herself blushing hotly. But she was game, and raised 
 her flushed face bravely to his unsuspicious and beaming 
 welcome. As a cab drove perilously near, he drew her 
 to the sidewalk. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Melendy, I wanted to see you, and I'm 
 right pleased that I haven't got to wait till supper time," 
 he exclaimed. " Tell me, do you remember that as we 
 came back from the Catacombs on Wednesday, as we 
 went through the rather poor quarter just outside the 
 gate in the wall, we saw a lad with a cock under his 
 arm?" 
 
 " Sure. And you said he was the third child that you'd 
 seen, and you calculated that it was a peculiarity of 
 Roman children to have 'em as pets. I suppose you've 
 seen a fourth ? " 
 
 " Now don't you be too sure, Miss Melendy," he 
 warned her rather mysteriously. " However, I own that 
 I've got something that I want to show you the worst 
 way. I suppose you would hardly feel like visiting the 
 Forum now, would you ? " 
 
 " Sure. There's nothing I'd like better," she returned 
 eagerly, and they set out briskly without another word, 
 facing the splendid but startlingly new monument to Vic- 
 tor Emanuel II. But before they had gone far, the girl 
 saw that Cotton looked tired, and announced that she 
 would like to stop for a cup of tea. Accordingly she led 
 him around the corner to a little shop where she had 
 been before with Maude Griffiths. 
 
 To her great dismay, as they entered they encountered 
 not only Maude Griffiths, but Mrs. Manners, sitting at a 
 little table with cakes and tea. Mrs. Manners's welcome 
 seemed effusive to Hank, but Mr. Cotton was delighted. 
 (Trust him!) While Hank took her tea in moody 
 silence, he repeated, with apologies to her, his tale of the 
 child and the cock. And when he had done, he asked,
 
 FIREWEED 247 
 
 with the same deprecating eagerness, if they would accom- 
 pany Miss Melendy and himself to the Forum to see 
 something interesting if he fetched a carriage. 
 
 They were enchanted, and he secured a carriage. As 
 she sat with him on the seat behind the driver, Hank 
 tried to convince herself how much more attractive Maude 
 Griffiths was than the lady Providence had saved from 
 being a grass widow. Maude certainly was dear, with 
 her kinky, reddish hair, her clear complexion, and her 
 sweet light-blue eyes with long, curling pink lashes. Her 
 blue suit, too, was smart and becoming, and her little hat 
 not bad. But Hank sighed silently there you were ! 
 Any one might have tagged her at first sight for what she 
 was, a Michigan school-ma'am, not yet long enough 
 out of college to lose her girlishness. On the other hand, 
 Mrs. Manners might have been any one, a duchess or a 
 princess or even Beatrice Cenci. There was some- 
 thing in the oval of her face very like that of the lovely, 
 melancholy face of Guido's portrait; and her eyes 
 
 And of course her Parisian costume was truly elegant. 
 Over a gown of the same material, Mrs. Manners wore 
 a loose cloak of raw silk with Chinese-looking embroidery 
 in the same shade, and a wonderful buckle at the throat. 
 All the accessories were perfect, and a modern adapta- 
 tion of the old poke bonnet shaded her face and softened 
 her expression. Furthermore, it didn't seem to-day to 
 need so much softening as Miss Melendy would have 
 supposed. 
 
 They entered the Forum from the end nearer the 
 Colosseum. They were scarcely within the enclosure 
 when Mrs. Manners, smiling rather archly, cried out : 
 " Oh, Mr. Cotton, I wish you would let me lead." 
 
 " Oh, you can lead, Mrs. Manners, but how do you 
 know where I'm taking you all? " he rejoined indulgently, 
 as if she had been a child.
 
 248 FIREWEED 
 
 " Suppose I should guess ? " she retorted with a toss 
 of her head. 
 
 " Very well, guess away. But mind, if you guess 
 wrong, the penalty will be to sing a song to the assembled 
 Burgesses this evening on the roof garden," he declared. 
 
 Shrugging her shoulders, Mrs. Manners waved her 
 hand with the gesture of the Italian guide. Turning to 
 the left, she led the three towards the ruins of the 
 Library of Augustus. She paused before a grating in a 
 vaulted recess which had apparently been part of the 
 atrium, beyond which was a miscellaneous collection of 
 fragments of old sculpture. The most nearly perfect 
 piece was an oblong slab, like a stele, bearing a group in 
 high relief : a tall Roman in a classically folded toga, 
 with a fine, grave face, with a child by his side, a slender 
 little boy in a tunic, looking exceedingly small in contrast 
 with the tall father, and gravely carrying a chicken tucked 
 under his arm! 
 
 Hank knew that if she had seen it alone with Cotton 
 she would have cried and disgraced herself forever. As 
 it was, she was deeply moved by the sight, this linking 
 of the child of modern Rome with the little lad in the 
 tunic walking soberly beside his father some nineteen 
 hundred years ago, his pet under his arm. The girl was 
 her best self, as she seldom could be in the presence of 
 Mrs. Manners, as she looked into Cotton's face with a 
 frank, sweet smile of appreciation. 
 
 His face was a study, and yet not a difficult one. 
 Indeed, it was rather easy to read the record thereon. 
 There was, in the first place, large satisfaction in the fact 
 itself, and in the realization that his pleasure was shared 
 by his friends. Then, too, there was a certain amused 
 gratification because of the manner in which he had been 
 outflanked; he seemed to feel a personal pride in Mrs. 
 Manners's graceful assumption of leadership and her
 
 FIREWEED 249 
 
 clever anticipation of his surprise. There was something 
 almost proprietary about his attitude. 
 
 A great wave of weariness and discouragement swept 
 over Miss Melendy. She felt like throwing it all over 
 without knowing definitely what " it " was. It was as if 
 she had discovered that Mrs. Manners's hand was all 
 trumps, while she herself held nothing that could win a 
 point. What, then, was the sense of playing it out? 
 That she wasn't sure what the game was, nor the stakes, 
 made no difference. When Maude Griffiths, who was 
 always prudent and especially when some one else was 
 bearing the expense, suggested that they ought not to 
 keep the carriage waiting longer, and Hank seconded the 
 motion, she was virtually giving over the game, for 
 the moment, at any rate. For she might have waited and 
 walked with Cotton instead of returning to the Corso 
 with the others. 
 
 Cotton saw them into the carriage, then returned. He 
 knew exactly how quickly his long legs would carry him 
 back to the pension on the Via Po, for he had timed 
 himself long since, and drawing out his great silver watch, 
 he calculated just how long he might safely remain. As 
 he finally walked on towards the Tabularium, he was still 
 musing upon the father and little son. What had been 
 their fate? What had he made of himself, he wondered, 
 the little lad with the finely shaped head and the docile, 
 serious, child-like bearing? And the austere father? 
 He hoped he had lived to see his son assume and wear 
 the toga. But he wondered why he didn't hold the little 
 fellow by the hand. It seemed to Caleb Cotton that one 
 would hardly forego the privilege of walking hand-in- 
 hand with one's little son while he was still a child. Well, 
 they were both dead now, dead long, long since ; they were 
 at rest from their labors. And yet Cotton felt vaguely 
 sorry. The world was a fair place with sunshine and
 
 250 FIREWEED 
 
 blue sky and brave men and tender women, and life was 
 good even at its hardest. And here, in this oldest spot 
 of an immemorial city, he was touched with gentle melan- 
 choly because of the long past death of an unknown little 
 boy and his father. 
 
 Climbing the steps of the remains of the portico of the 
 Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, Cotton came upon a 
 fellow countryman whom he had seen hereabout upon a 
 number of occasions before. An instructor in a Western 
 college, he understood him to be, and knew he must be in- 
 terested in Roman history because he seemed constantly to 
 haunt the Forum. He was young, rather small and thin, 
 shy in manner, with shabby, very neat clothing, a thought- 
 ful face, and eyes that were very attractive in spite of 
 large spectacles. 
 
 They had nodded to one another in a friendly way 
 since their second meeting. Now, as they sat on the top 
 step together, Cotton, fanning himself with his battered 
 Panama hat, explained the subject of his musing. In the 
 young man, he found perhaps the most interested listener 
 of all. 
 
 " Ah, you have yourself given the little fellow a sort of 
 immortality ! " the latter exclaimed shyly. " I shall put 
 him in the gallery or galaxy, with my little girl. You 
 know Pliny's letters, I suppose ? " 
 
 He had studied Cotton from afar for several days, 
 decided that he was an archeologist, and longed to scrape 
 acquaintance with him. He was rather surprised at the 
 other's reply. 
 
 " The chap that died at Pompeii ? " Cotton asked 
 genially. 
 
 " No, the nephew of the scientist, Pliny the Younger. 
 It was from him I got the image of my little girl as 
 plainly as you got your boy from the stone." 
 
 Cotton begged for the whole story. The young man,
 
 FIREWEED 251 
 
 who later gave his name as John Cawthorne, hesitated 
 only a few seconds. 
 
 " She was the daughter of a philosopher who was a 
 friend of Pliny's," he explained. " He writes a letter to 
 another friend on the occasion of her death. She was a 
 bright, sweet, affectionate, companionable little thing, just 
 a dozen years old, when sickness overtook her and death 
 claimed her. Childish, docile, devoted to her lessons and 
 little duties, happy at her play (in which, however, Pliny 
 says she indulged but sparingly!) her father doted on the 
 little girl. And when she was taken away, Pliny, writing 
 to the third friend, advises him not to rub in, at this 
 moment of utter grief, the father's own maxims as to 
 the bearing of sorrow." 
 
 John Cawthorne smiled shyly and sweetly behind his 
 great spectacles. 
 
 " I'm a bachelor," he added, as if that explained his 
 peculiar attitude, " and I often catch myself thinking of 
 that little girl. It happened that I read that particular 
 letter of Pliny's first in the midst of a thick, white snow 
 storm ; and now whenever snow is falling softly and 
 steadily as it did then, she comes back to me, and I feel 
 somehow as if it were making a little mound over her 
 grave." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Cotton softly, " I understand just how 
 that is." 
 
 " After all, she had had a complete, rounded little life, 
 with her simple duties and pleasures, and her real sig- 
 nificance in the life of her philosopher father and of his 
 friends. I'm sorry for him ; but I am glad she died just 
 when she did, before the world had laid its rude hand 
 upon her. Think of it, sir, that baby was betrothed ! 
 Yes, I'm thankful she died before they married her 
 off." 
 
 " But suppose it had been my little lad that your little
 
 252 FIREWEED 
 
 maid was to marry ? What then ? " Cotton whimsically 
 demanded. 
 
 " By George ! " cried the other, beaming as if he had 
 had a gold mine pointed out and offered to him. 
 
 " Of course ! Of course ! " he cried. " Why shouldn't 
 it be true ! I wonder don't you think, sir, we might 
 we could at least see if it were a possibility, by getting 
 approximate dates. The little girl died about the year 
 98. Now, let's see " 
 
 " I reckon we'd better not go any further," remon- 
 strated Cotton gently. " Let's just leave 'em as they are, 
 little son and little daughter, gathered to their fathers 
 long, long ago." 
 
 " Requiescant in pace," added the younger softly.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE last Saturday of July had been a happy day for 
 Miss Melendy ; as she mused upon it, it seemed, perhaps, 
 the happiest day of all her one-and-twenty years. She 
 had passed it, morning and afternoon, meeting not by 
 agreement but by chance, wandering about the city which 
 had become the beloved city, in a desultory fashion with 
 Caleb Cotton. And every moment had been a golden 
 moment. 
 
 Her happiness instinctively sending her in quest of 
 Nancy, the girl's high spirits fell instantaneously to lowest 
 pitch. She found Nancy with red eyelids and deathly 
 pale. She must have been weeping for an hour. And it 
 wasn't only that she looked so touchingly sad ; she seemed 
 to look pinched and suddenly older. 
 
 Hank threw her arms about her. The girl explained 
 with a touching attempt at self-control, that she had been 
 reading verses, had come upon a poem that made her cry 
 and then hadn't been able to stop. After a weak attempt 
 at conversation, Hank had to bolt. She couldn't endure 
 it at the moment. 
 
 The verses were, of course, those Stokes had given her 
 as a parting gift. Probably the mere sight of the book 
 nearly broke her heart. Hank seemed to understand how 
 that might be, how the sight of a token of friendship 
 might nearly kill one at a certain moment. And yet, it 
 really wasn't so bad for Nancy as she believed. And 
 how wicked to withhold anything that might lighten her 
 burden even by a mere fraction. Somehow, Hank must 
 let her know what she had herself learned. 
 
 253
 
 254 FIREWEED 
 
 She pondered the matter all that evening and all the 
 next morning. In the afternoon, while she was driving 
 about the city in a carriage with Nancy and her father, a 
 plan, or at least a makeshift, came into her mind. She 
 didn't care for the aspect of it, but she had sworn that 
 she would not let another day go by, and there was no 
 chance of anything better suggesting itself. She said to 
 herself she would put it through that evening; then gave 
 herself up to the girl at her side. 
 
 Directly after dinner, seeing Miss Lancaster in the roof 
 garden with Maude Griffiths, Miss Melendy resolutely 
 sought out Mrs. Manners in her room. What she was 
 about to do was, she knew, quite an unprecedented thing. 
 She knew not what it might not involve her in. But there 
 was nothing else to do, nothing for the like of her 
 and she stiffened and made the plunge. 
 
 The room she entered for the first time was handsome 
 and stately, the suite being the finest the grand old palace 
 afforded. In dress and appearance, Mrs. Manners suited 
 it, too. She looked, indeed, rather sweet and gentle and 
 exceedingly aristocratic in the shaded light; but her ad- 
 dress was formal and even cold. She was evidently sur- 
 prised at the visit and perhaps annoyed. 
 
 She introduced some general topic of conversation ; but 
 Miss Melendy had no small talk least of all to-night. 
 The girl was white, with an almost desperate look in her 
 brown eyes that might have touched another. Even so, 
 after she had begun to speak it would probably have been 
 otherwise: for despite her effort to be conciliatory (per- 
 haps because of it) Hank was blunt to the verge of 
 rudeness. 
 
 " Mrs. Manners, I have come to ask something of you," 
 she said. " I don't suppose I have any right to ask any 
 such thing. I'm sure it isn't ladylike, but I hope it isn't 
 the motive, I mean unworthy of a gentleman, though
 
 FIREWEED 255 
 
 like enough I sha'n't be able to express myself so as 
 to make it seem so." 
 
 Mrs. Manners's heart seemed to grow cold. What had 
 the strange girl on her mind? She knew only too well 
 that Miss Melendy had spent the past two days almost 
 exclusively in the company of Cotton, and she couldn't 
 help fearing her errand had to do with him. 
 
 " Dear me, Miss Melendy, ask away, pray, but don't be 
 melodramatic, I beg," she returned much more lightly 
 than she felt. 
 
 Miss Melendy grew yet paler. Lest she be melodra- 
 matic, she was very bald, blurting out what she had come 
 prepared to lead up to with such amenity as she could 
 command. 
 
 " Mrs. Manners, I think you know a Mr. Stokes ? " 
 she questioned. 
 
 " I do, certainly, Miss Melendy," Erica rejoined 
 haughtily. But she restrained her inclination to ask the 
 impudent girl what that was to her. 
 
 " He is a good friend of yours ? " Miss Melendy 
 demanded. 
 
 " I suppose I may say so. But really, Miss Me- 
 lendy " 
 
 " I know," the girl broke in desperately, " but I can't 
 help it. I've just got to. The truth is " 
 
 Hank flushed hotly, then paled. And now she had no 
 choice. Too confused to select her words, she made haste 
 to get the bare, bald fact from her lips. 
 
 "I know some one who is well, desperately in love 
 with him with Mr. Stokes," she almost gasped. " She 
 is breaking her heart over him, and she will die if there 
 isn't some hope, some chance for her." 
 
 Erica flushed angrily. For a moment she couldn't 
 speak. She had of course no inkling of the truth. She 
 didn't know Nancy Cotton at all ; she hadn't had three
 
 256 FIREWEED 
 
 words with her since that terrible day in Paris. And 
 she would never have dreamed that Nancy's delicacy had 
 other than physical basis. But suddenly a suggestion 
 came to her that dissipated her anger. She looked up 
 quickly, almost eagerly, and fleetingly scrutinized the face 
 of the girl before her. It had come to her that Miss 
 Melendy was speaking for herself. In that case per- 
 haps Philip Stokes himself would have been surprised at 
 the lady's willingness to hand him over to another. 
 
 But she chose her words carefully. And her even 
 politeness was in contrast to Miss Melendy's recklessness. 
 
 " Would you mind telling me, Miss Melendy, if you 
 yourself happen to know Mr. Stokes ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, no," returned Miss Melendy, little knowing what 
 hopes she dashed. " I first heard of him from some one 
 who is in America," she faltered. Hank was anxious 
 above all things not to betray Nancy's secret; but she 
 hated to tell the truth with the intention to deceive 
 thereby. 
 
 Indignation helped Mrs. Manners preserve her self- 
 control. 
 
 " I'm sure I'm exceedingly sorry for your friend in 
 America," she remarked ironically, " but I confess I 
 hardly understand why you should have betrayed such a 
 confidence to me, or what you wish to ask or rather to 
 demand from me. Surely, you don't expect me to inter- 
 cede with Mr. Stokes for some stranger?" 
 
 " N-no, Mrs. Manners, I don't want that. I just want 
 oh, Mrs. Manners, of course I don't know but if 
 he's nothing to you I mean, if you don't really any- 
 how, why couldn't you just break with him tell him 
 you will have nothing further to do with him, make him 
 sure " 
 
 The look in Mrs. Manners's eyes compelled her to 
 pause.
 
 FIREWEED 257 
 
 " Oh, I know it's perfectly awful, unpardonable to talk 
 like this," the girl cried, " but, oh, Mrs. Manners, it's 
 really the one chance to save her life. Of course, if you 
 cared " 
 
 Hank stopped short, conscious of egregious bungling. 
 
 " Good heavens, Miss Melendy, how do you know 
 whether I care or not ? " cried Erica. " And why should 
 you come here demanding that I throw over an old friend 
 I have known since childhood? I confess, I never heard 
 of such conduct before in my life. Can it be that you 
 consider it honorable ? " 
 
 Miss Melendy rose. " It certainly isn't dishonorable, 
 not as I mean it," she retorted. " I'm not asking you 
 to go back on a friend, at least I didn't mean to make 
 it seem so. I only ask you to step aside for a little to 
 let some one else have a chance at what you don't 
 want." 
 
 " Who is this some one ? " Enrica demanded. 
 
 " I couldn't tell you that, Mrs. Manners," said Miss 
 Melendy sadly. " I can only ask you to do it as a woman 
 for a woman. She's good and sweet and I would never 
 dream of doing this, only that it's a case of life and 
 death." 
 
 "Who says so?" 
 
 " I say so." 
 
 " Ah ! you expect me to throw over an old friend for 
 some stranger on your word that she's lovesick ? " Erica 
 asked ironically. " The truth is, Miss Melendy, that 
 you're too young, or rather too immature, to understand 
 such things. I dare say it's only your judgment that's at 
 fault, however. As a matter of fact, love is the rarest 
 thing in the world. Quite likely your friend has anaemia." 
 
 " Anaemia rot ! " cried Miss Melendy hotly. " It's 
 God's truth, and it's wicked and cruel for you to refuse." 
 
 Erica laughed scornfully.
 
 258 FIREWEED 
 
 " It's very easy to make snap judgments of other peo- 
 ple, Miss Melendy," she declared, " but after all you don't 
 know me well enough to pronounce such glib sentence." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't mean to, Mrs. Manners ! " cried the girl 
 despairingly. " And I don't mean to be hateful. I don't 
 mean to demand or order. Only, I'm so wrought up I 
 hardly know what I do say. I would do anything in the 
 world to bring this about." 
 
 The girl's words rang out impressively. But simul- 
 taneously an unworthy impulse came to Erica Manners. 
 It came so mysteriously, so without prompting on her part, 
 as not to seem hers, but a suggestion from without. And 
 she seemed to herself actually to have expressed it in 
 words before she realized its import or had adopted it as 
 her own. 
 
 " Would you, indeed, Miss Melendy ! " she heard her- 
 self remarking. " Very well, I will take you at your 
 word. I really don't know you at all, you know. I will 
 do as you ask if you, to prove your good faith, will do 
 an equally unreasonable thing that I propose. If I throw 
 over my friend at your behest, will you join Miss Bur- 
 gess's party at Venice and travel with them in Ger- 
 
 many 
 
 Miss Melendy paled. " I don't understand you," she 
 faltered. 
 
 Mrs. Manners paled, too. She felt almost faint. She 
 was, indeed, almost as taken aback as Miss Melendy. 
 But she repeated the condition firmly. 
 
 " It's plain enough," she said carelessly. " You ask 
 me, apparently without rhyme or rhythm, to do some- 
 thing really momentous. As I said, I don't know any- 
 thing about you, and it wouldn't be fair to Mr. Stokes 
 for me to comply with your extraordinary demand with- 
 out some assurance of your good faith. Therefore, as 
 a warrant from you, I ask the first thing which happens
 
 FIREWEED 259 
 
 to come into my head, which may be absurd, but isn't, 
 after all, anything like so unusual or so critical as your 
 proposal to me." 
 
 "You would bribe me?" Miss Melendy inquired 
 scornfully. 
 
 " No such thing. But tell me, what right have you, 
 Miss Melendy, to come to me in this way and make this 
 melodramatic, impudent appeal ? " 
 
 Miss Melendy was silent. 
 
 " What right, I ask, Miss Melendy ? " 
 
 " No right. But if you had a heart " 
 
 " It evidently doesn't mean much to your heart." 
 
 " It means all the world, nearly." 
 
 " And yet " 
 
 " I don't see how you can ask such a thing ! " cried the 
 girl hotly. " Haven't you any sense of " But she 
 couldn't say decency nor yet shame, and she left it hang- 
 ing. It came upon her coldly that she must not go out of 
 her way to antagonize Mrs. Manners further. 
 
 " I rather wonder why we discuss the matter further, 
 Miss Melendy. Haven't we done ? " asked Erica coldly. 
 
 " But we must," cried Miss Melendy desperately. 
 " Oh, Mrs. Manners, you can't refuse ! " 
 
 " I certainly can and do ! " cried Erica. 
 
 Up to this moment, it had somehow not occurred to 
 Miss Melendy that she could yield to Mrs. Manners. 
 Now, first it struck her dimly. But she struggled dumbly 
 against it. 
 
 " Please tell me why I should go off with this Miss 
 Burgess whom I've never seen? What mortal good would 
 it do you ? " she demanded with sincerity. But no sooner 
 were the words out of her mouth, than she suddenly 
 understood. She felt sick and faint. 
 
 " What good would my relegating my friend to limbo 
 do you ? " Erica retorted.
 
 26o FIREWEED 
 
 " A sort of good you wouldn't understand, Mrs. Man- 
 ners, if I should explain it." 
 
 " Miss Melendy ! " cried Erica with flashing eyes. 
 
 " The good of doing good to another even to one's own 
 hurt," the girl said staunchly. But again that cold certi- 
 tude took possession of her only more coldly and more 
 definitely. Her own words repeated themselves in her 
 heart as a command. Even to one's own hurt! But 
 what Mrs. Manners asked was outrageous, abominable. 
 
 She hesitated, but only for a few seconds. Then she 
 spoke quietly. 
 
 " But Mrs. Manners, you know I couldn't join the other 
 party now. The arrangements are closed." 
 
 " No, they're not, or at least they're opened up again," 
 Erica rejoined quickly. And again the words seemed 
 given her. She was carried pushed along as it were. 
 
 " There's been a change lately. They're not going to 
 stop in Austria as they had planned, but are going straight 
 into Germany and spend all the time there. There's been 
 some row over the Archduke's funeral, I believe, that 
 makes them avoid Vienna ; but Miss Lancaster thinks the 
 new itinerary better." 
 
 Miss Melendy scarcely heard. Her utter scorn for the 
 woman before her almost choked her. Well, there was 
 no use hanging on here any longer. She had lost her 
 throw. Nancy must endure her fate. 
 
 " Then you refuse, Mrs. Manners ? " she asked wearily. 
 
 " I refuse your petition as you refuse mine, Miss Me- 
 lendy. I could hardly be expected to do more for a 
 stranger whom I never heard of until a quarter of an 
 hour ago, than you would do for a friend? " 
 
 " I suppose not," the girl admitted. 
 
 She gave one reluctant look into the future, then 
 shrank back. She looked back into the past, the very 
 recent past, the last two days. And something gripped
 
 FIREWEED 261 
 
 her. Thrusting her right hand deeply into her pocket, 
 she raised her head higher. 
 
 " I suppose not," she repeated, " and therefore, I agree, 
 Mrs. Manners, to what you demand on your part. If 
 you will write to Mr. Stokes to-night, I will see Dr. Bur- 
 gess the first thing in the morning and get enrolled in his 
 sister's party. Is it a bargain ? " 
 
 Mrs. Manners, taken aback and strangely confused, 
 could only murmur a just intelligible affirmative. Miss 
 Melendy fled. 
 
 The girl would not allow herself an instant to think it 
 over. With her heart like a stone, she sought out Nancy. 
 She was alone in her room, and Hank induced her to 
 come out into a little balcony which overhung the Via Po 
 and yet looked upon the old wall. 
 
 It was almost as difficult to speak to Nancy as it had 
 been to approach Mrs. Manners. One topic after another 
 Hank introduced, hoping to get an opening, discussed 
 feebly, with a few monosyllables from Nancy, then 
 dropped. Presently they had fallen into silence. Nancy, 
 with the sad patience that characterized her when off her 
 guard, was gazing towards the wall and beyond it. Sud- 
 denly, as she watched her, a generous glow warmed 
 Hank's heart. And now she had to restrain her excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " By the way, Nancy," she remarked as casually as she 
 could, " I heard something to-day about a friend of your 
 father's." 
 
 " Yes, Hank, dear ? " said Nancy, withdrawing her 
 gaze from the wall. 
 
 " You know that day at Fiesole, he spoke of a Mr. 
 Stokes?" 
 
 " Yes, Hank," assented the girl faintly. 
 
 " Well, before that, I had heard about him from some 
 one else. They said there was something on between him
 
 262 FIREWEED 
 
 and Mrs. Manners and that they kept up a rattling cor- 
 respondence. Well, I have just heard to-day that every- 
 thing whatever everything may imply is up between 
 them. Some one heard her say that hereafter there was 
 nothing doing between Stokes and her ladyship. She 
 said she was writing to him to say that all was over, 
 or to that effect. And you know, she meant it. There's 
 no doubt of that." 
 
 When she had first mentioned Stokes's name, Nancy 
 had clasped her hands. Now she was very quiet. But 
 presently she drew a deep breath and in the soft light of 
 the street lamp it seemed to Miss Melendy that she saw 
 the color flooding back to her lips and cheeks. She began 
 to chatter about things in which neither of them took any 
 particular interest, keeping it up as long as she could. 
 Then she broke the ensuing pause by declaring that she 
 must go in and write to her father. 
 
 " I wonder," said Nancy softly, " why she did it." 
 
 " She may have been bored ; he may have been bored. 
 Who knows ? " said Miss Melendy lightly. " At any rate, 
 it's my private opinion that it's a mighty good thing for 
 him. If he's a friend of your father's, believe me, he's 
 too good for her." 
 
 "Of course," said Nancy, "she is different lately." 
 
 " She's certainly smoother, whatever that may mean. 
 However Nancy Cotton, tell me, are those tears on 
 your damask cheek ? " 
 
 Nancy laughed tremblingly. 
 
 " I reckon they are, Hank," she said, throwing her arm 
 about the other girl. 
 
 "But they're fake?" 
 
 Again Nancy laughed tremulously. Then she dropped 
 her head on Hank's shoulder and began to cry. Her thin 
 form shook with her sobs, 
 
 "Nancy! "cried Hank.
 
 FIREWEED 263 
 
 The girl raised her head almost instantly. 
 
 " Hank, dear, it's only because I'm silly. I don't really 
 feel like crying, only I can't help it. I reckon I'm only 
 crying because it's such a good world, with so many 
 dear people in it you, Hank, and pappy, and almost 
 every one." 
 
 Again she wept, but now Hank understood and it did 
 not distress her. 
 
 " Come, now, you'd better come in with me," she urged 
 presently, and led the girl in. " Do you feel as if you 
 could sleep, dear ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, Hank, I feel as if I could sleep as I used when 
 we were way back home," Nancy cried, " before we came 
 East, you know." And then she added shyly, " But I'm 
 glad we came East." 
 
 Hank, who rarely kissed any one, kissed Nancy as she 
 turned to leave her. 
 
 The girl clung to her. " Oh, Hank, we'll have such a 
 good time in Switzerland together ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 The older girl would not to-night announce the fact 
 that she was going by the other route. She temporized. 
 
 "There's Venice first," she reminded Nancy, "with 
 gondolas and Doges, though I fancy the Dagoes are 
 thicker than the Doges these days, and it may not be the 
 marrying season for the Adriatic. However, St. Mark's 
 and the pigeons are a continuous performance, I take it." 
 
 Nancy laughed gaily, as if the wit were of the keenest 
 sort. And with that sound in her ears, Hank took her- 
 self off. 
 
 Nancy was on her knees beside her bed when the door 
 closed. But it was not the same Nancy. Neither was 
 it the same Nancy who woke next morning after a won- 
 derfully refreshing night of sleep and dreams. It wasn't 
 that the girl deluded herself. She didn't dream that Mrs. 
 Manners's loss was her gain in the same sense. Only,
 
 264 FIREWEED 
 
 a tremendous burden had been lifted from her heart. 
 She had a friend again in the same way that she had had 
 before she had heard of Mrs. Manners. And she was 
 free to love, and free to serve. 
 
 As for Miss Melendy? One does not draw interest 
 on demand from a new deposit ; and it is seldom that one 
 receives instantaneous reward fpr sacrifice, even in the 
 approval of one's own conscience. Nevertheless the 
 effect of the tidings upon Nancy had been an instan- 
 taneous and wonderful reward, and though she passed 
 the first sleepless night of her life, Miss Melendy was 
 content.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 LONG as Miss Melendy 's night was, on that second day 
 of August, 1914, it was in no way comparable to that of 
 Erica Manners. 
 
 For some time after the door closed behind Miss Me- 
 lendy, Erica sat motionless, in a sort of stony contem- 
 plation. She had ridden herself of the one obstacle in 
 the way of her present contentment, had effected it 
 without premeditation, moreover, almost without effort. 
 What she never would have dreamed of bringing to pass 
 deliberately, but what would mean everything to her, 
 had been as it were thrust upon her like a gift of fortune ; 
 she had scarcely more responsibility in regard to it than 
 if a purse of gold had dropped from a rainbow in the sky 
 to her feet. 
 
 When Miss Lancaster came in, Erica spoke to her in 
 a pleasant, absent way, then slipped into her bedroom and 
 closed the door. Donning an elegant dressing gown, she 
 seated herself in a comfortable chair next the open case- 
 ment. But it wasn't the landscape without that she saw. 
 
 It was a very pleasant view, however, the vision of 
 that fortnight which was to follow Venice. It would be 
 a change for every one to have Miss Lancaster, Mary 
 Little and Miss Melendy out of the way, though the 
 others might not realize it. She hadn't, of course, done 
 it 
 
 On a sudden Erica decided that she would calmly re- 
 view what had passed between herself and Miss Melendy. 
 
 She had promised to renounce all claim upon Phil 
 Stokes for the sake of some unknown, vulgar, lovesick 
 
 265
 
 266 FIREWEED 
 
 friend of Miss Melendy's. That was a generous act on 
 her part, even though at the moment she might be rather 
 relieved than otherwise ; for Erica knew that there might 
 be a moment when she would miss Stokes sadly. She 
 had 
 
 Rising abruptly, she turned on the light, and seated her- 
 self at the desk to redeem her promise. As she wrote, 
 she began to regain the vague sense of self-satisfaction 
 that had threatened to escape her. She was as good as 
 her word and better. She cast Stokes off utterly and 
 without reserve. She made it quite clear, without going 
 into reasons, that there was not and never would be any 
 chance whatever for him so far as she was concerned, 
 and that circumstances made it imperative that he should 
 not communicate further with her in any way. She was 
 resolute, but not unfriendly, advising him to become in- 
 terested in some one else (who might be Miss Melendy's 
 friend, though Phil was probably too fastidious for any 
 such person). 
 
 Having fulfilled her part of the bargain, she decided 
 to retire at once and get a long night's rest. But an 
 hour and a half passed and she was still wide awake. 
 Sleep did not come to her, nor even rest. Her sense of 
 self-satisfaction had oozed away, and poignant discom- 
 fort made her bed a place of torture. 
 
 She couldn't understand why she should suffer, unless 
 it was that contact with Miss Melendy always left her 
 ill at ease. Surely she hadn't asked anything of Miss 
 Melendy in comparison with what that young person had 
 coolly demanded of her. But Miss Melendy hadn't been 
 fair; she had behaved as if she, Erica, had some under- 
 hand motive. She was evidently of a suspicious nature. 
 
 Well, since she so suspected and disliked her, separation 
 from her would be good for Miss Melendy. It was her 
 first visit to Europe and would probably be her last, and
 
 FIREWEED 267 
 
 already she had missed a lot that she should have seen 
 simply because she wouldn't go where Erica went. Of 
 late, it is true, she had unbent a trifle in that respect, but 
 only because the request had come from Mr. Cotton, 
 the entreaty, rather, for she had had to be coaxed like a 
 sulky child. 
 
 On a sudden, Erica's thoughts wandered. She rather 
 wondered that one like Mr. Cotton should be willing to 
 coax Miss Melendy. Evidently he considered her worth 
 it. Erica winced. 
 
 And again, as she reflected that he wouldn't have felt 
 her worth it, she was haled sharply back to the present. 
 Ah ! what would he think of this action of hers ? He 
 would never know, of course: Erica acknowledged that 
 Miss Melendy wasn't the sort to tell. No matter how 
 much one disliked the girl, one would trust her down to 
 the ground. 
 
 Erica sighed deeply. But after all, she protested, it 
 was a bargain something ventured, something gained, 
 on both sides. Of course, what Miss Melendy gained 
 wasn't for herself Erica wished with all her heart it 
 had been. But, ah ! if it had been, would she ever have 
 asked it? Erica tried to persuade herself that she might 
 have, but she knew better. And when the question forced 
 itself upon her consciousness, whether Miss Melendy 
 would ever have demanded the compensation she had 
 herself asked, she winced again. No, that was impos- 
 sible, unthinkable. 
 
 It was one o'clock, and the pension very still. Erica 
 sprang impatiently from bed and dropped down into the 
 chair by the window. All without was quiet, too, with a 
 radiance in the sky at the horizon. She rested her tired 
 head and her hot cheek on the broad sill. 
 
 But rest was not here, nor respite. No, Miss Melendy 
 would never have accepted that sort of sacrifice, even
 
 268 FIREWEED 
 
 had it been pressed upon her. If she hadn't been too 
 proud, she would have been too good. It was a hard 
 fact to face ; but there it was. 
 
 Well, it was done and Erica couldn't help it now. 
 Every one made mistakes; every one had to begin over 
 more than once or twice. She had made a slip, but she 
 would try again; and with Miss Lancaster and Miss 
 Melendy out of the way, she would be able to get a better 
 start. 
 
 Her eagerness to persuade herself of this, Erica mis- 
 took for the high glow of resolve. But it all flared out, 
 and left her heart strangely cold and aching dully, and 
 she crept into bed, resolved to postpone all further con- 
 sideration of the matter until morning. 
 
 Presently, she said to herself that she wished she 
 hadn't done it. If only she had resisted the temptation 
 as it came to her, she might have acquired merit, like the 
 Lama in Kim, only it hadn't been temptation. It had 
 flashed into her mind so swiftly that there had been no 
 chance to inspect or label the impulse ; indeed, it seemed 
 to have been born on her lips as spoken words. 
 
 And having heard herself speak the words, she had 
 been forced to stand by them. Miss Melendy's scorn 
 had naturally strengthened her purpose, and well, that 
 was all there was to it ! She wished she hadn't done it : 
 but done it was, and there was no more to be said. 
 
 Thus for some little time Erica Manners communed 
 with herself. Then, on a sudden, remembrance of the 
 day in the Catacombs smote her. She had cried out in 
 prayer, ignorantly and blunderingly, it is true, yet out of 
 her heart. And for answer, Mr. Cotton had appeared 
 out of that awful leaguer of shadows. In a way, that 
 frightened prayer had been a vow. And now, only a few 
 days after, she had done what she would have been 
 ashamed to contemplate before that dark hour.
 
 FIREWEED 269 
 
 She wrestled with this phase of the matter, but she 
 could not down it, could not see it in any other light. 
 At length she rose again and taking her portfolio to the 
 window to catch the light of the dawn, seated herself 
 there for the third time and wrote the following note : 
 
 " Dear Miss Melendy, will you please consider what I 
 asked of you as unsaid? It was really proposed only in 
 jest, but your excitement and anger made me persist in it 
 far beyond what I should have dreamed of doing other- 
 wise. I have of course written to Mr. Stokes, and was 
 glad to do it. But I beg that you will not allow yourself 
 to be influenced in any way by that foolish mistake. 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 " Erica Ericson Manners." 
 
 Sealing and directing the envelope without stamping it, 
 she placed it opposite the other note on the mantel and 
 returned to bed. Half an hour later, she rose again and 
 tore it into bits. Again she wrote: 
 
 " Dear Miss Melendy, I did a very wrong thing when 
 I forced you into that agreement. I proposed what I 
 did under excitement, and I have only realized after con- 
 sideration what it means. Now I have thought it over, 
 I am terribly ashamed of myself and truly sorry. Please 
 show that you accept my apology and understand my 
 extreme regret by acting as if the proposal had never 
 been made. 
 
 " My note to Mr. Stokes, which I am glad to have 
 written, will be on its way by the time you get this. 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " Erica Manners." 
 
 As she dated the note, Erica realized that another day 
 had dawned and wrote August third.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ERICA MANNERS slept the sleep of exhaustion far into 
 the morning, as a consequence of which, though the letter 
 to Stokes was posted early, the note to Miss Melendy, 
 which Miss Lancaster only discovered upon her return 
 from shopping, was not sent to her room until after 
 luncheon and the girl did not find it until late in the 
 afternoon. And by that time any effect that it might 
 have had had she read it earlier had been neutralized. 
 It was like a check on a bank that had failed the day 
 before the check was drawn. 
 
 Miss Melendy 's long night was compensated by the 
 sight of Nancy appearing at the breakfast table, for the 
 first time since they had been in Italy, with her father 
 beaming beside her. 
 
 " Why, Nancy Cotton, what lark is this ! " she cried 
 incredulously. 
 
 The girl smiled. " Oh, Hank, I slept last night like " 
 
 " A top, though why that's supposed to sleep more 
 soundly than a dormouse, beats me." 
 
 Nancy laughed. 
 
 " I felt like going somewhere this morning, so I got 
 up," she declared. " Pappy's going to take me to see 
 the pet chicken. Oh, Hank, I believe that I shall tramp 
 the Swiss mountains with you ! " 
 
 Miss Melendy could scarcely believe her eyes. But 
 Nancy ate a moderate breakfast, and didn't lean on her 
 father as they left the table. As Cotton went into the 
 office, she drew Nancy aside. 
 
 270
 
 FIREWEED 271 
 
 " I have changed my mind, Nancy darling, and am not 
 going by way of Switzerland after all," she said reluc- 
 tantly. " I'm going into Germany with Miss Burgess." 
 
 " Oh, Hank ! " cried Nancy in deep dismay, " that will 
 spoil everything. Do you care a lot about Germany ? " 
 
 " I seem to be rather keen about it just at the last 
 minute," the girl said in an odd voice, " but there'll be 
 Venice first, you know, Nancy, and then the journey 
 home." 
 
 Nancy put her arms about her. " I want you to do 
 what you like, Hank, for once, because you never think 
 of yourself, but oh, it will be dreary without you. I 
 shall stick to you like a burr until you leave and then as 
 soon as you get back to us again." 
 
 She went rather soberly on to her room. Miss Melendy 
 found Cotton waiting for her in the corridor. 
 
 " I can't be mistaken Miss Melendy, can I, in thinking 
 that Nancy's a heap better this morning? " he exclaimed. 
 " I'm applying to the physician that wrought the change 
 to ask if it's true or if her father's seeing things ? " 
 
 " Nancy's better, sure," said Hank. " It's plain as 
 pudding, and every one will throw up his hat and cheer. 
 And if I was lucky enough to have any part in it, why, 
 it's no end of a lark, of course, to feel as if one could 
 do anything for Nancy." 
 
 Cotton held out his hand, and taking hers almost sol- 
 emnly, pressed it warmly. Hank found herself weak and 
 glad to drop into a chair when she reached her room. 
 But the gratitude in her heart warmed it royally. She 
 had truly done something for Mr. Cotton ; she hadn't so 
 aimed ; her thought had been all for Nancy. But she had 
 succeeded none the less, and the consciousness of it would 
 be with her wherever she went, as a solace. It would 
 last many days. It would render even those two weeks 
 in Germany endurable.
 
 272 FIREWEED 
 
 Cotton, meanwhile, coming upon his daughter, saw 
 her sobered face with apprehension. 
 
 " Oh, honey, do you feel tired again ? " he asked anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " Oh, pappy," she laughed, " when it's hardly ten min- 
 utes since you saw me! I'm fresh as ever, and ready 
 to go out when you are." 
 
 " I thought you looked sort of mournful, honey." 
 
 " Oh, pappy, Hank's going with the other party Miss 
 Burgess's, you know. I don't know how to get along 
 without her." 
 
 " Going with the doctor's sister ! You don't say ! " her 
 father exclaimed with some dismay. " I don't know how 
 any of us will get along without her. And you " 
 
 He considered. He had of course weightier reasons 
 than Binjen on the Rhine for his choice. But eying his 
 daughter searchingly, he made a quick decision. 
 
 " I reckon, honey, that you and I could still change and 
 go that way, too, if you like ? " 
 
 " Oh, pappy, I'd love to. Hank is such a darling ! " 
 cried Nancy with an enthusiasm that was strange and 
 wonderful to her father. He declared that he would fix 
 it up with the doctor at once, and went in search of him. 
 But Dr. Burgess was not to be found about the pension, 
 and he postponed it until luncheon time. As Miss Me- 
 lendy descended the stair a few minutes later, she saw 
 the father and daughter driving happily away in the 
 direction of the Forum. 
 
 She, too, was in search of Dr. Burgess to arrange 
 about changing her plans. No one seemed to know any- 
 thing about him; but Mrs. Burgess had a vague notion 
 that he had just stepped out to have the tickets for Ven- 
 ice countersigned, or whatever it was, and was sure that 
 he would be back shortly. The girl seated herself in 
 the lobby to wait for him. She was anxious to have the
 
 FIREWEED 273 
 
 matter settled before she should see Mrs. Manners or 
 have to explain to any of the others. 
 
 For their first week in Rome, the Burgess party had 
 had the pension almost to themselves ; but during the last 
 few days it had been filled to the limit of its capacity. 
 And this morning there was much going and coming, 
 much gathering in groups and animated discussion. Miss 
 Melendy sat where she could see the entrance, but at 
 such a distance that she caught no words. She couldn't 
 but realize that there was some excitement abroad, but 
 she was for the moment too absorbed in what was before 
 her to take any interest in anything else. When she 
 finally saw Dr. Burgess coming through the arch from 
 the tram car, she walked out into the street to meet him. 
 
 He looked hot and tired. For the first time, it struck 
 Miss Melendy that he was an old man. But, however 
 concerned she felt for his fatigue, she could not spare 
 him. She must fulfil her promise. She made her pro- 
 posal briefly and in businesslike manner. 
 
 " My dear Miss Melendy," he protested in a strange 
 voice that somehow made her feel very remiss. She won- 
 dered whether he felt hurt that she should wish to desert 
 the original party, or whether it was going to be a great 
 bother for him to change her about at this late hour. 
 But she simply must put it through. Otherwise, Mrs. 
 Manners would back out, and then Nancy ! 
 
 " I am more than sorry for the bother, doctor," she 
 said earnestly, " but I really am very anxious to make 
 the change. You see " 
 
 He stopped short on the Corso and looked down upon 
 her with an expression as unfamiliar as his voice. 
 
 " Miss Melendy, no one will go that way," he declared 
 with curious emphasis. " In fact, none of us will go any- 
 where outside of Italy. We can't get out. We can't 
 cross the frontier."
 
 274 FIREWEED 
 
 His face was certainly very red. Hank gazed at him 
 with amazement and great concern. He must have suf- 
 fered sunstroke. She wondered if she ought to take his 
 arm. He might fall at any moment. 
 
 She moved nearer. " We mustn't stand here in the 
 sun," she murmured soothingly, and reading her look, 
 Dr. Burgess smiled. But his face sobered again at once. 
 
 " I'm quite myself, dear child," he reassured her. " It's 
 only that I have very disquieting news. You know 
 Austria's ultimatum to Servia?" 
 
 " Why, yes, doctor, but " 
 
 " And that there was chance of its leading to war ? " 
 
 " Yes, but no one thinks that it will ? " 
 
 " Didn't you hear that leader some one read out of the 
 Daily Mail of Wednesday, perhaps, for we got it Sat- 
 urday that said that if trouble resulted because of 
 Austria's excessive demands, it would in all probability 
 be merely local. But it added that there were racial and 
 political ramifications that might involve all Europe, 
 in which case the greatest calamity of the world's history 
 would be upon us." 
 
 Miss Melendy's face was incredulous. Of course, she 
 said to herself, if one was to grow old, it has to begin 
 some time. It wasn't at all like the doctor to go off at a 
 tangent like this just to explain what she already knew 
 that they weren't to travel in Austria except to get into 
 Germany. 
 
 " No, doctor, I missed all that," she declared. " How 
 they croak, don't they, those newspapers? Back home, 
 we'd call it yellow journalism, wouldn't we?" 
 
 She saw that he did not hear. They had stopped on 
 the steps. He looked at her very gravely. 
 
 " Miss Melendy," he said solemnly, " the worst has 
 happened. At this very moment, all Europe is in arms, 
 on the very brink of battle. Indeed, there are rumors
 
 FIREWEED 275 
 
 already that blood has been shed between Germany and 
 France." 
 
 " Germany and France ! " the girl cried, more than ever 
 in a maze, " but, doctor, what have they got to do with it ? " 
 
 " That doesn't seem to make any difference," he said 
 wearily. " There's not much understanding possible. 
 Russia, too, is said to be mobilizing." 
 
 The office and lobby were thronged with a noisy, ex- 
 cited throng. Dr. Burgess pushed his way through them 
 as he went in search of Cotton. Miss Melendy, still 
 dazed and incredulous, went from group to group listen- 
 ing in wide-eyed amazement. 
 
 It seemed to the girl that she must be m a nightmare. 
 It was truly inconceivable. Only yesterday there was no 
 slightest intimation of any such thing, and to-day no, 
 it wasn't possible for a great convulsion of human nature 
 to fall with the instantaneousness of an earthquake. All 
 her life she had heard it affirmed, like a principle of 
 science or a geometrical axiom, that there could never 
 be another great war. And she had had an idea that the 
 Hague Conference had set a definite seal upon that uni- 
 versally accepted dictum. Yet now, here were people 
 glibly talking of the whole continent of Europe being in 
 arms. It couldn't be. This was only Monday. Europe 
 simply couldn't have gone to war over Sunday. It was 
 some awful mistake due to these rabid Italian newspapers. 
 
 Moving from circle to circle, she gained little fragmen- 
 tary talk about the Consulate and the Embassy, questions 
 of passports and whether money and tickets would be 
 refunded. But no one seemed to have so much definite 
 information as Dr. Burgess had brought. 
 
 At luncheon, of course, nothing else was discussed, and 
 never had there been more confusion at the Burgess 
 table. But Cotton saw the situation in a reassuring light. 
 He called Miss Melendy's attention to the fact that they
 
 276 FIREWEED 
 
 had heard at the Embassy on Saturday that the Amer- 
 ican ambassador was leaving a northern port that day 
 for a vacation in America. 
 
 " I can't help feeling, doctor," he concluded, " that if 
 international complications had been sufficiently serious 
 to have led up to the state of affairs predicated to-day, 
 the American ambassador would have known and must 
 have remained at his post. For what is hidden to ordi- 
 nary eyes, yes, and even to extraordinary ones is of 
 course plain to diplomacy. And a big affair like this 
 wouldn't happen overnight. You can be pretty sure that 
 he knew exactly what portended before he boarded his 
 vessel. All this excitement must be merely a flash in 
 the pan. In a day or so, we'll wake up and find every- 
 thing normal. You know how it is when the streets of 
 a big city have been cleared for a procession? It passes, 
 and traffic is resumed. For a little it looks as if the 
 mixture of carts, carriages, trucks and human beings 
 would never be unscrambled ; but after a little you'd never 
 know anything had happened. I shouldn't wonder at 
 all if time tables would be in effect again this day week, 
 and trains in motion transporting passengers to and from 
 France, Germany, Russia and Switzerland or whitherso- 
 ever they choose to go. Austria will wear her helmet 
 for a week and stand threateningly over Servia, but the 
 great powers will whisper in her ear. Concessions will 
 be mutually exchanged, and traffic will be resumed, and 
 everybody will be doing business at the old stand." 
 
 Dr. Burgess was sensibly relieved. He and Cotton 
 went out together directly after luncheon, and did not 
 return until tea time. The doctor joined such members 
 of the party as were having tea on the roof. He said 
 they would not go on to Venice for the present ; and he 
 couldn't yet tell whether any modified itinerary could be 
 made out.
 
 FIREWEED 277 
 
 " For even if war is averted, as I believe it will be, it 
 will take weeks, they tell me, to get back to normal even 
 after only such mobilization as has already taken place. 
 We have upwards of three weeks before our steamer 
 sails. I am going back now to the Embassy and to the 
 steamship and tourist offices ; but I have little expecta- 
 tion of our being able to do more than travel about Italy 
 and then get up to Boulogne in good season for our boat." 
 
 He swallowed his second cup of tea and went down 
 to the lobby where Cotton was waiting for him with an 
 American business man who had appointments with Ger- 
 man firms and was anxious to get into that country. The 
 three hurried out to add to the throng of foreigners 
 besieging the strongholds of the city of Rome. 
 
 After he had gone Miss Melendy lingered to discuss 
 the matter with the others. She did not get to her room 
 until after five at which time she discovered Mrs. Man- 
 ners's note. She hadn't seen Mrs. Manners since the 
 evening before, and had utterly forgotten the lesser sit- 
 uation in the excitement of the greater. She read the 
 note with amazement that turned to scorn. 
 
 The girl was not at all of a suspicious nature. Open 
 and frank herself, it was like her to think well of every 
 one. But she had never trusted Mrs. Manners, and now 
 there was no doubt in her mind. 
 
 The note bore the date of to-day, and she took it for 
 granted it had just been brought in. She supposed that 
 Mrs. Manners had learned that there would be no going 
 north, except to Boulogne for the boat, and no division 
 of the party, and that Miss Melendy couldn't carry out 
 her part of the bargain, and she had written the note to 
 claim a virtue from necessity. She had probably been 
 afraid Hank would tell the others, and the girl's scorn 
 increased manifold.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE week opening with that astounding, that incred- 
 ible, that momentous Monday, dragged itself out, unique, 
 unhappily unique, in the history of every member of the 
 party of Americans with which we are concerned. They, 
 like countless others, struggled against accepting or be- 
 lieving the monstrous tidings, but the struggle was a 
 losing one. The return of the ambassador, who was 
 allowed to make his way across the continent by means 
 of the soldiers' trains to reach his post, dispelled such 
 assurance as his absence had seemed to afford. Pres- 
 ently, every one was fain to acknowledge that actual war- 
 fare was in progress and that they were prisoners in 
 Italy. 
 
 It was difficult to get information concerning even the 
 most general operations, and impossible to secure any- 
 thing in the way of details. There was apparently no 
 communication with the world outside. Germany, 
 France and Russia seemed already to be fighting; and it 
 was taken for granted that Austria must have attacked 
 Servia, else why these others? Before the week came to 
 an end, word came through somehow that England had 
 entered the arena. There were also rumors concerning 
 Belgium, but none credited these, for why should that 
 tiny nation fling down the gauntlet to the great powers? 
 The Italian papers mentioned but one battle ground : each 
 day they reported a great engagement in process between 
 the French and Germans at Miilhausen with tremendous 
 losses. No other fighting was recorded, and it seemed 
 
 278
 
 FIREWEED 279 
 
 rather repetition from day to day than fresh informa- 
 tion. Indeed, so long as our Americans remained in 
 Italy, they had no clearer conception of the state of 
 affairs than that three or four great nations were at war, 
 and that actual righting was going on in one city of 
 Alsace. 
 
 The aspect of Rome changed overnight. Excitement 
 was rife. Always full of strangers, Rome now was full 
 of strangers with a difference. The railway stations 
 overflowed with Italian laborers who had been sent over 
 the frontier from the borders of Austria and France ; and 
 that helped give currency to the rumor that Italy was about 
 to enter the struggle. One heard now that she was in 
 duty bound to support the Triple Alliance; again it 
 was positively stated that she would fight against it. In 
 any event few doubted that she would be in the thick of 
 the conflict before many days, at most within a fort- 
 night. The streets were thronged with soldiers in the 
 various handsome uniforms of the Italian army, mostly 
 in twos and threes and small groups, but now and again 
 in companies. The ancient city of the Forum, the Pan- 
 theon and the Caesars, the medieval city of the popes, 
 princes and captains, the city of Michelangelo, of the 
 painters and architects, even the modern city of fountains 
 and gardens, flower-girls and tourists, had quite vanished 
 or been swallowed up. This Rome of August, 1914, was 
 essentially the capital of Italy, the residence of King and 
 government, to which the people looked for guidance 
 and direction in the clash of world forces. 
 
 Dr. Burgess, with his party to provide for, and the 
 possibility of his sister and six other women to be added, 
 should they be able to get through from France, was 
 worried and anxious, haunting the steamship offices in 
 the effort to secure passage and get his flock out of Italy 
 before anything should occur that might shut them up
 
 2 8o FIREWEED 
 
 there for the winter. Most of the members of the party 
 passed their days in the same manner as other Americans 
 in Rome, going about from one station of their country- 
 men to another, in a state of bootless suspense. The 
 most crowded of these places was the Consulate, where 
 the throng was constant, though the units that made it 
 up varied, from an hour before it opened at ten, until it 
 closed in the late afternoon. It was noisy and confused 
 beyond words. People registered, clamored for pass- 
 ports, changed their quarters and registered again; they 
 asked innumerable questions, a great part of them irrele- 
 vant, repeated them over and over, and entered into dis- 
 cussions with one another that branched fantastically in 
 all directions from the few facts available. 
 
 The greater number of the Burgess party had fixed 
 engagements as well as friends to draw them home, and 
 there was considerable real anxiety. Erica Manners, 
 having nothing to call her, was not concerned about the 
 chance of getting to America at any particular time, and 
 though she was truly sympathetic with those of the others 
 who confided their difficulties and worries to her, for 
 herself she did not dislike the idea of being in a belea- 
 guered city so long as Mr. Cotton was there. There wasn't 
 at this time sufficient knowledge of the real state of 
 affairs outside to elicit strong personal feeling in regard 
 to the fighting, or any but vague sympathy, so that in 
 that respect Erica nor any other as little informed was 
 to be considered remiss in looking at the situation from 
 a personal standpoint. And a certain personal relief that 
 was on her gave her almost a sense of exhilaration. The 
 thought of what she had so narrowly escaped, the real 
 ignominy she had just saved herself from committing 
 or at least from perpetuating while it sobered Erica 
 Manners, made her actively grateful. Her feeling was 
 the stronger when she realized that had she delayed but
 
 FIREWEED 261 
 
 a day, it would have been too late. Miss Melendy 
 wouldn't then have believed in her sincerity; and Erica 
 was not yet at the point where to satisfy one's own con- 
 science is sufficient. 
 
 Cotton, while quite indifferent to personal risk or in- 
 convenience, was profoundly moved by this sudden and 
 seemingly momentous upheaval of society. Eager for 
 tidings, for a clew to the mystery, he had never found it 
 so difficult to command the patience that had seemed to 
 be habitual with him. He, too, went about much, talk- 
 ing, perhaps, more than any other member of the party ; 
 but he avoided the places where the crowds were thickest 
 and did not spend his whole day in the process like nearly 
 every one else. 
 
 The inexplicable improvement in Nancy's strength 
 holding, her father devoted a goodly portion of these 
 extra days in Rome in taking her about the old city. 
 She had seen almost nothing, and it was his delight to 
 revisit old shrines. Wherefore, however anxiously the 
 day started, he came back to the pension in the late after- 
 noon with his daughter, refreshed and cheerful, ready to 
 pass the evening in the endeavor to while away the time 
 and raise the drooping spirits of the rather curious mix- 
 ture of folk now gathered under the roof of the old 
 palace whom the common ill predicament had made like 
 one great family. 
 
 Miss Melendy, who was always asked to share the 
 expeditions of the Cottons, constantly excused herself, 
 making, instead, one of the number who accomplished the 
 rounds of Embassy, Consulate, express and tourist of- 
 fices daily. It was not entirely by choice that she so 
 acted. She felt that her contract with Mrs. Manners 
 bound her to separate herself from those from whom she 
 would have been separated had it been possible to carry 
 out the schedule. At the same time, she did this so unos-
 
 282 FIREWEED 
 
 tentatiously that no one would have guessed that she was 
 not acting according to her preference. Even Erica Man- 
 ners did not suspect for some time that the girl had not 
 accepted her note in the spirit in which it had been 
 written. 
 
 On Saturday, there arrived at the already crowded 
 pension a party of young girls under the care of the prin- 
 cipal of a school on the Hudson River. They came from 
 Venice according to schedule, but they did not find, ac- 
 cording to the same schedule, a second group from the 
 same school in charge of one of the teachers, who were 
 to have joined them in Rome on their return from visit- 
 ing the exhibition in Norway. On Sunday, Miss Double- 
 day had a conference with Dr. Burgess during which she 
 explained that she had, before leaving America in June, 
 secured passage home for her entire party on an Eng- 
 lish boat that was due to leave Naples in ten days. The 
 company assured her that the vessel would sail; but 
 every one told her it was impossible that the others would 
 be able to get through to Italy. In that case, she offered 
 the extra places to him for his party. 
 
 There was great rejoicing among the party. They left 
 Rome for Naples on Monday, it being believed that if 
 Italy should enter the war within the ten days, on the 
 side of the Triple Alliance, the English boat might slip 
 away betimes. As they waited for more than an hour 
 beyond the scheduled time for their train in the fiercely 
 hot August sun, the railway station was a place of utter 
 confusion. As they stood among their luggage on the 
 platform, train after train pulled in consisting wholly of 
 third-class carriages which emptied out hundreds of 
 swarthy, sun-burned Italians, men, women, children and 
 infants, dressed in heavy woolen or corduroy, seem- 
 ingly wearing all the clothing they possessed, and toiling 
 and sweating under immense bundles and packs in sheets
 
 FIREWEED 283 
 
 and sacking. They were, or had been, residents of lands 
 across the borders who had been hurried to the frontier 
 as soon as war was declared and thrust across it, bearing 
 all their worldly goods on their backs or in their arms. 
 The stream of these people was apparently endless, but 
 no one seemed to know whither it flowed. No one knew 
 what was to become of these dispossessed laborers with 
 their families, they themselves least of all. Their eyes 
 looked frightened, questioning, confused, yet patient. 
 There was no sullenness nor rebellion visible. 
 
 " Poor things ! they look like dumb driven cattle, don't 
 they?" cried Mary Little. 
 
 Cotton was lending a helping hand wherever he could, 
 carrying a fatherless, sickly baby to a place where the 
 mother could sit down with it, helping an overburdened 
 young girl or boy, and cheering the children with sweets. 
 And when finally the train for Naples really pulled in, 
 he was the last to take his place in the carriage. 
 
 " I haven't really believed it before," he remarked to 
 Dr. Burgess as he mopped his dripping brow. " But now 
 I do. That makes it real, that picture yonder. War is 
 surely upon us." 
 
 It was so with the others. It was that picture that 
 first made war a reality to all the party. It was still in 
 progress, moreover, as they pulled out. The last thing 
 they saw was that slow-moving, endless procession of 
 poor, tired, hot, perspiring human beings, heavy laden 
 with goods and babies, ignorant of what fate lay before 
 them, yet patient and uncomplaining, with a kind of dumb 
 faith in their dark, frightened eyes. 
 
 At any time, the contrast between Rome and Naples 
 is striking, but at this season of wars and rumors of war 
 it seemed to our friends overwhelmingly so. They had 
 quarters in an hotel conducted by an Englishman on the 
 hill overlooking the bay; but most of them passed their
 
 284 FIREWEED 
 
 days down in the hot city, trying to forget their anxiety 
 and suspense in motion and bustle. The military was 
 constantly in evidence here. Troops marched back and 
 forth through the city for drills every hour, and every 
 train brought groups of soldiers and companies in uni- 
 form. Moreover, there was so much more excitement, 
 movement and commotion everywhere and continually as 
 to make Rome seem quiet and sedate in retrospect. 
 Everything was pitched in higher, strident key. Even 
 the throng of beggars, the like of which they had never 
 encountered before, crippled, deformed, loathsome from 
 disease, inveterate though they plainly were, seemed to 
 be a special feature of war time. 
 
 Hearing everywhere the clamor for passage to Amer- 
 ica, our friends felt themselves fortunate, indeed, to have 
 obtained places on a vessel ; nevertheless, there was ever- 
 increasing anxiety as to the boat. For the Apulia was 
 not yet in, and so far as one could ascertain, there were 
 no tidings of her. Each day the English company which 
 owned her announced that they were reasonably sure she 
 would dock before sunset ; but a week had gone by, and 
 still she had not appeared. Rumor had it that she was 
 at Malta, and many and conflicting were the explanations 
 for the delay there. Some declared that she was holding 
 off to make a dash into Naples at the last moment, seize 
 her passengers and dash out again. More experienced 
 persons retorted that such is not the way of merchant 
 vessels. Even though she coaled at Malta or wherever 
 she might be, she had to lay in provisions and supplies, 
 and a vessel of her tonnage does not do that in half an 
 hour or half a day. 
 
 Nine days passed. Finally, on the day she was an- 
 nounced to sail, the Apulia came in. The badgered force 
 of clerks at the office of the company were able to assure 
 the throng that haunted the place that she would sail only
 
 FIREWEED 285 
 
 twenty-four hours late, provided, always, that Italy did 
 not meantime enter the war. 
 
 Thus reassured, Dr. Burgess got a large touring-car 
 and took his party to Pompeii. Half an hour before 
 they were to start, Erica Manners, dressed and ready, sit- 
 ting idly at her window in an immense room on the 
 ground floor of the hotel, saw Miss Melendy setting 
 forth with hat and sun umbrella. She ran out and over- 
 took her. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Melendy ! " she cried. 
 
 The girl stopped. 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Manners?" she said in some surprise. 
 They had had no intercourse with one another since the 
 night before the announcement of the war. 
 
 " Aren't you going to Pompeii with us ? " Erica 
 gasped. 
 
 " I think not, Mrs. Manners," the girl returned politely. 
 
 " But why ? " cried Erica with mantling cheeks. " Why 
 aren't you, Miss Melendy ? " 
 
 " I don't care to," said Miss Melendy coldly. 
 
 " But I wish you would," protested Erica. " You 
 haven't been anywhere with us since since that Sunday 
 night. It isn't fair to me. You don't trust my good 
 faith, Miss Melendy." 
 
 Which was quite true. Miss Melendy did not deny it ; 
 but she tried to waive the issue. 
 
 " I really don't want to go to Pompeii," she said bluntly. 
 " I'm going" down to the arcade to get some gloves and 
 some books for the voyage. Now that the time's so 
 short, it's safe enough to part with one's gold, and I'm 
 going to blow in what I've got and trust to Dr. Burgess 
 for tips on the boat and so on." 
 
 For perhaps the first time in her life, Erica Manners 
 returned the soft answer. 
 
 " I wish very much you would go," she urged gently.
 
 286 FIREWEED 
 
 " I wish you felt like doing it as a favor to me. And if 
 you had rather I weren't in the party, I won't go. I 
 have been before, you know, Miss Melendy." 
 
 " I'm sorry not to oblige you, Mrs. Manners, but I 
 really can't change my plans," the girl insisted, and went 
 on into the hot sun, walking more briskly than she felt 
 inclined to do. 
 
 She had saved a goodly sum by not traveling about 
 these three weeks, and she had been fortunate in drawing 
 a large sum upon her letter of credit the week before 
 war was announced. She bought books for Dr. Burgess, 
 Mrs. Miles, Nancy and Miss Williams, and gloves and 
 trinkets for friends at home that she had not remembered 
 before. She went to the English chemists for Florentine 
 orris powder for Maude Griffiths, whose precious store 
 had been melted away by showers one night when she 
 left it on the window sill. She chose baskets of figs, 
 purple and green, for Miss Budd and Miss Little and 
 sweets for Miss Lancaster and Mrs. Burgess. It was 
 rather fun selecting the things ; but, after all, as she sat 
 in her cab with the parcels all about her, slowly climbing 
 the long hill to the Parco Margherita, the girl's heart was 
 heavy, her conscience troubled her. She had been more 
 than ungracious; she had been distinctly unkind. And 
 yet, how could she have been otherwise? She certainly 
 did not believe in Mrs. Manners, and she couldn't force 
 herself to do so. That lady had taken advantage of cir- 
 cumstances to get out of an awkward situation grace- 
 fully. Miss Melendy said to herself she might possibly 
 make herself admire her cleverness; but beyond that she 
 could not go. 
 
 For her part, Erica Manners bore with her a heavy 
 heart that the sight of a long-buried civilization did not 
 lighten, the thought of a people whose light was sud- 
 denly darkened, whose day became the black night of
 
 FIREWEED 287 
 
 death, almost two thousand years earlier. Miss Melendy 
 did not believe in her. It was, she supposed, part of her 
 punishment that Miss Melendy did not trust her. She 
 acknowledged sadly that it was no more than just that 
 it should be so. For it wasn't only because of what she 
 had done that night in Rome, but because she had been 
 the sort of person to whom the temptation to do a wrong, 
 a base act like that, appealed. Miss Melendy couldn't but 
 feel that the act itself was like her, and also the disown- 
 ing it when circumstance forced her hand. It was really 
 useless to struggle further. Her past would always be 
 dragging her down ! 
 
 They were on the return journey, but the light was 
 still painfully strong. As Erica closed her eyes a mo- 
 ment, she had a nightmare sensation of slipping down, 
 down. She opened them quickly. No, no, she cried 
 within herself, she would not give over. She wouldn't 
 even give over the struggle to make this girl feel her 
 sincerity. And underneath all, dimly felt and scarcely 
 defined, was a yet stronger purpose to render and keep 
 it of such a depth hereafter that it should defy challenge. 
 
 Only one more day, and they would be on the boat, 
 homeward bound. Less than a fortnight later, they 
 would be in New York. After that, she might never see 
 Miss Melendy again, unless 
 
 Well, would she care if she never saw her again? It 
 almost seemed as if she would. At any rate, if she 
 should somehow fail, during the voyage, to win Miss 
 Melendy *s good will, it might be, nay, it must be that 
 the girl's distrust of her would haunt her long, perhaps 
 always. Perhaps the struggle to win her good opinion was 
 to be her particular form of enduring hardness. If so, she 
 was ready for the struggle. But, oh, what if to strive for it 
 and not to win, always to bear the consciousness of defeat, 
 would be her far harder burden to endure ?
 
 288 FIREWEED 
 
 Thus she communed with herself as she sat silently 
 by Miss Lancaster for the greater part of tke drive from 
 Pompeii, which was picturesque and interesting despite 
 the heat and the volcanic dust. The colors of earth, bay 
 and sky were dazzling; luxurious groves and countryside 
 alternated with desolation; architectural splendor with 
 squalor. The big car was comfortable and the motion 
 grateful, moreover, after the enforced economy of the 
 past weeks since gold had been at a premium and money 
 impossible or very difficult to draw. 
 
 Erica caught fragments of the talk of others : Dr. Bur- 
 gess and Cotton discussing Pliny and his curiously modern 
 scientific ardor ; Miss Budd and Maude Griffiths weighing 
 the claims of cameos against those of coral roses; Mrs. 
 Miles wondering what would happen if they were chased 
 by a boat hostile to England after they got into the open 
 ocean ; Miss Williams suggesting that there might be 
 gates at Gibraltar like those of the Panama Canal that 
 might be closed behind them; and Miss Little laughing 
 hysterically and calling upon the others to listen to that. 
 Only Miss Lancaster sat dumbly at her side. 
 
 Erica called her attention to Vesuvius, looking gentle 
 and tame with its airy little canopy of smoke. 
 
 " You'd hardly believe it capable of wreaking such 
 desolation as we saw, would you, Libby ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " I shall never again believe anything is what it looks," 
 growled Miss Lancaster. 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry you've got to go home without 
 seeing the Sistine Madonna," said Erica gently, believing 
 her disappointment weighed upon her. 
 
 " Oh, that doesn't jar me," returned Miss Lancaster 
 lugubriously, too low-spirited to choose her words with 
 her usual care, " nor yet Venice nor Berlin." 
 
 " You'll be relieved to be on the boat and facing the 
 Goddess of Liberty ? " Erica queried smiling.
 
 FIREWEED 289 
 
 " I shall be thankful to drop into my berth, and I 
 shouldn't mind staying there for two weeks," declared 
 Miss Lancaster, adjusting her ecru motoring veil. 
 
 Erica gazed at her with sudden anxiety. Did she really 
 look an ashen hue, or was it the volcanic dust and the 
 yellow in her veil ? 
 
 " What is it, Libby ? " she inquired. " Do you feel 
 nervous? Are you afraid the boat won't sail and we'll 
 be hung up here all winter ? " 
 
 "Oh, Erica, don't jest about any such thing!" pro- 
 tested Miss Lancaster fearfully. 
 
 " Libby ! you don't feel ill ? " Erica cried with such 
 genuine concern that Miss Lancaster herself was seized 
 with violent self pity. 
 
 Tears filled her eyes. " I don't know, Erica," she re- 
 plied. " I suppose it's only the excitement and worry- 
 ing. And it was suffocatingly hot down there. I wish 
 I hadn't come. I wish I had gone shopping with Miss 
 Melendy. She asked me to go along." 
 
 Somehow, the tears in the faded eyes touched Erica 
 deeply. She was overwhelmed by the flood of self-re- 
 proach that swept over her with the pity. 
 
 " As soon as we get back to the hotel, you shall go 
 right to bed, Libby," she assured her warmly. " And 
 I'll have our dinner brought up and we'll eat it quietly 
 together, and I'll wait on you." 
 
 " I don't want any supper," Miss Lancaster almost 
 wailed. " All I want is to get into bed. And perhaps 
 if you don't mind, I'll stay there all day to-morrow and 
 only get up in time for the boat next day. The packing 
 is all done except for the last things." 
 
 :< You shall do just as you like, Libby. But after a 
 good night's sleep, you may feel better and want to shop 
 before we get where we won't see a shop for a fortnight."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 "WELL, it certainly seemed as if things were dreary 
 enough before without this happening," Miss Budd re- 
 marked in a pleasant voice that might have led one unac- 
 quainted with the English language to think she was 
 talking about spring flowers or summer breezes. 
 
 Miss Melendy, who had come in late and reached the 
 table just as the soup was removed, looked about in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 " What's up, Buddy ? " she asked. Then, realizing her 
 glance hadn't encountered Mrs. Manners or her com- 
 panion, she spoke with real concern : " Miss Lancaster 
 isn't ill?" 
 
 " My dear Hank," said Mrs. Miles impressively before 
 Miss Budd could choose her words, " she's gone to the 
 hospital ! " 
 
 " For the love of Mike ! " 
 
 " In an ambulance," added Miss Williams. " Oh, 
 Hank, dear, I am glad you were spared the sight. All 
 our hearts were in our mouths." 
 
 " How many apiece, in the interests of anatomy ? " 
 Hank couldn't forbear inquiring. Then her face sobered. 
 " But my goodness, how about to-morrow ? " 
 
 " All up," said Mary Little. And Miss Cameron, who 
 sat next to Miss Melendy, explained the situation. 
 
 As Hank had known, Miss Lancaster had remained in 
 bed since she had taken to it directly after her return 
 from Pompeii the day before, refusing all food. At 
 luncheon time she had seemed really ill, and Mrs. Man- 
 ago
 
 FIREWEED 291 
 
 ners, who had been with her continually, had consulted 
 Mrs. Cross, the English wife of the proprietor of the 
 hotel, and sent for an English physician. Dr. Page had 
 pronounced it a fever, apprehending it might be typhus. 
 He had gone to the steamship authorities with Dr. Bur- 
 gess, but they had refused to allow Miss Lancaster to be 
 brought on board the Apulia. The only thing to be done, 
 therefore, had been to send her to the English hospital on 
 whose staff Dr. Page served, and she had been taken there 
 an hour or more earlier in an almost unconscious condi- 
 tion. 
 
 The doctor, a gentleman and a physician of experience, 
 had promised to be a friend and counselor to Miss Lan- 
 caster as well as to look after her professionally ; and Mrs. 
 Cross would keep constantly in touch with the hospital, 
 visit Miss Lancaster as soon as it should be allowed, 
 bring her back to the hotel as soon as she could be moved 
 and keep her until she should be ready to return to Amer- 
 ica. And now Mrs. Manners had gone to see the wife 
 of the American consul, friends of whom she knew well, 
 to enlist her interest. 
 
 Miss Cameron closed by saying that Dr. Burgess had 
 told her in confidence that Mrs. Manners had been more 
 than liberal in making financial arrangements, she had 
 been lavish to an extreme. Just as Miss Melendy had 
 rejoined in a low tone that she could hardly have done less 
 under the circumstances, Mrs. Manners herself entered 
 and dropped into her place beside Miss Little. She looked 
 pale and tired, but smiled at Dr. Burgess as she an- 
 nounced : " It's all right, Doctor. She's a perfect brick. 
 She and her friends will adopt Miss Lancaster from the 
 moment the boat sails, and the consul will do everything in 
 the official line. I'm tremendously relieved." 
 
 " And well you may be," he said kindly. He had 
 grown fond of Mrs. Manners, like almost everyone else
 
 292 FIREWEED 
 
 in the group. " It's marvelous what you have put through 
 since two o'clock." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! And we don't sail until two to-mor- 
 row ! " cried Miss Williams in her most startled fashion. 
 " Why, there's time for every one of us to get carried to 
 the hospital by that time. Oh, dear, I hope nothing has 
 happened to Mr. Cotton. Does anyone know where he 
 is? Wouldn't it be simply terrible to have to go off and 
 leave him here ? " 
 
 " Cotton's right as rain, Miss Williams," said Dr. Bur- 
 gess quickly, smiling at Nancy. " He's gone on the Apu- 
 lia to look her over, and he doesn't know how to do any- 
 thing superficially, you know." 
 
 " Oh, doctor, why shouldn't we all go on board to- 
 night? " asked Mrs. Miles, " so as to be sure of being there 
 and avoid accidents. If any one should break an ankle, 
 say " 
 
 " I should worry," murmured Miss Melendy. 
 
 " I confess, I shall be more than thankful to feel the 
 paddles revolve," admitted Maude Griffiths. " I can't 
 help thinking, suppose Italy should declare war to-mor- 
 row? You know they are holding all night sessions of 
 parliament at Rome. And I do so want to get back to De- 
 troit to start my Latin classes myself. What would hap- 
 pen, doctor, if Italy went in before two to-morrow? " 
 
 " It -would depend on which side she espouses, Miss 
 Griffiths. If she should declare for her fellows of the 
 Triple Alliance, the Apulia, becoming by that act the ves- 
 sel of an hostile nation, would be interned during the 
 war." 
 
 " And we-all with it ! " cried Mrs. Miles in distress. 
 
 " As it is, I suppose Miles is just tearing his hair. For 
 my part, I wish we could not only go aboard to-night, but 
 steal away under cover of darkness." 
 
 " But Cousin Annabel," protested Miss Budd in her
 
 FIREWEED 293 
 
 placid way, as if refusing a child a third helping of jam, 
 " they couldn't do that, you know, it wouldn't be fair, for 
 someone outside of Naples who has a ticket might be left 
 behind. And anyhow, if Italy went in against England, 
 why couldn't we sail on a German or Austrian boat ? " 
 
 " How about Gibraltar ? " demanded Miss Melendy. 
 " I see England letting Germany or Austria through her 
 stone jaws, even if they carried we-all for cargo, without 
 snapping them up." 
 
 " Pappy says the Italians will never fight on the side of 
 the Austrians because the Austrians were such fright- 
 fully cruel enemies to them years ago," said Nancy. 
 
 " There's a great deal in that," acknowledged Dr. Bur- 
 gess. "The fathers of the soldiers of to-day remember 
 1860 and their fathers' tales of '48. Mr. Cotton and I 
 heard some young fellows say that if they should be 
 placed in a company to fight with the Austrians, they 
 would shoot them in the back. And I don't doubt they 
 would. But I believe Italy will withdraw from the Triple 
 Alliance. England has been her true friend." 
 
 Mention was made of Gladstone and Garibaldi. Dr. 
 Burgess spoke of Cavour and the Crimea ; but Cotton be- 
 ing absent, no one else could follow that topic further, 
 and the subject was changed. 
 
 Miss Little asked if there were tidings of the Tennessee, 
 the American battleship which had been sent by the gov- 
 ernment with a large amount of gold to the aid of its 
 citizens abroad. 
 
 " She is said to have reached Falmouth," Dr. Burgess 
 replied. "Of course, if the worst came, she or a sister 
 ship could call here for us when our turn came." 
 
 "Ah! but when would that be?" cried Miss Cameron, 
 whose work called her imperatively. "They say there 
 are 50,000 Americans in Europe. I wonder how many 
 there are in Italy ? "
 
 294 FIREWEED 
 
 "Enough to make a good many boatloads before they 
 could land us all in the good old U. S. A." declared Miss 
 Melendy. " Miss Lancaster would be well again and 
 ready to go with us before it would be our turn." 
 
 Mrs. Manners, leaving the table to finish her packing, 
 caught these last words as she went. It was thoughf ul of 
 Miss Melendy, she said to herself, keeping Libby on her 
 mind like that, when she was nothing to her. 
 
 Poor Libby! It was hard lines for her, mighty hard. 
 Of course she would have the best of care, and would re- 
 cover. She was seriously, but not dangerously ill. But 
 when she grew better, when she came to herself, she 
 would find herself among total strangers, and would learn 
 that they had all gone every soul that she knew and 
 she was alone. It would be a shock, indeed. Poor thing ! 
 and no one more anxious to get away ! 
 
 She set to work vigorously. Miss Lancaster's things 
 were to be put in order and her own packing finished. 
 When she had despatched all this, neatly and quickly, con- 
 sidering her inexperience, she sat down and wrote a long 
 letter to Miss Lancaster to leave at the hospital for her 
 when she should come to herself. Just as she had fin- 
 ished it and stood it on the mantel, Cotton appeared. 
 
 Half an hour earlier, immediately upon entering the 
 house, he had sought out his daughter. Nancy left the 
 little group that were talking in the corridor and ran 
 eagerly to him, reminding him, as she did daily, of the 
 spirited girl she had been before they had moved to the 
 East. He led her to her room. 
 
 " I want to ask you, honey, if you think you could get 
 along with Mrs. Miles and Miss Melendy on the trip 
 home, if your pappy should stay on in Italy for a spell ? " 
 he inquired anxiously. " You know I don't quite like the 
 idea of our all going off and leaving one of our party in a 
 strange country alone and out of her head. If you think
 
 FIREWEED 295 
 
 you could make shift, Nanny dear, why, I'll just wait 
 over a few steamers and look out for her and then 
 bring her back when the proper time comes. It won't be 
 long." 
 
 Nancy put her arms about his neck and pressed her 
 cheek against his. 
 
 " Oh, pappy, I might stay too," she coaxed. 
 
 " No, honey, I couldn't take that risk," he said firmly. 
 " You might get the fever, and all sorts of other complica- 
 tions might come up. Besides, I want you to sort of keep 
 Cousin Abby straight. Her aunt will want to be getting 
 back to Cherokee, you know." 
 
 Nancy sighed deeply. " It will be the first time in my 
 life, pappy, if we are separated," she said, and hid her face 
 on his shoulder a minute. 
 
 Then she raised it and smiled bravely. "Of course I 
 shall be all right with Hank and Mrs. Miles," she said. 
 " But you'll be very, very careful not to get the fever? " 
 
 He laughed. "You know well enough, honey, that I 
 never ' cotch ' anything unless long legs do the act. And 
 they, let me tell you Miss Cotton, will fetch me right 
 lively to the first steamer sailing after Miss Lancaster 
 recovers. Like as not, I shall hurry the poor thing in my 
 zeal." 
 
 He slipped out quickly. His life had not been easy, but 
 it seemed as if nothing had ever been so hard as the 
 situation he faced. He was confronting separation from 
 Nancy, who was the very apple of his eye. He was to 
 remain in the city he " took to " least of any he had seen, 
 to protect a woman who was almost the only human be- 
 ing towards whom he had ever felt a positive personal 
 antipathy ; always with the thought of his frail child ex- 
 posed to the extraordinary peril of the seas in time of 
 war, going farther and farther from him until she should 
 be three thousand miles distant. And no one knew at
 
 296 FIREWEED 
 
 this moment whether or not there was cable connection 
 with America. 
 
 He went directly to Mrs. Miles and laid the question 
 before her. She protested but finally agreed to do her 
 part. He felt his task would be harder with Miss Me- 
 lendy and so it proved. 
 
 " But Mr. Cotton ! " she cried, " Mrs. Manners is an 
 experienced traveler, and it's up to her. If any one 
 is to stay with Miss Lancaster, why shouldn't it be 
 she?" 
 
 Why not, indeed? Cotton rose, then sat down again. 
 There was scarcely room in the tiny reception room to 
 turn around. He felt for his Panama hat which he had 
 left in Nancy's room, then domed his fingers and stared 
 at them. 
 
 Though he felt the force of Miss Melendy's argument, 
 he exonerated Mrs. Manners fully in his heart. It 
 seemed to him that Mrs. Manners had accomplished al- 
 most a miracle. She had, he believed, truly made her- 
 self over. But in so doing, she had, of necessity, left Miss 
 Lancaster far behind; and he couldn't help feeling that 
 the latter must have become repugnant to her. Why, 
 then, should she remain by her side now, and perhaps get 
 the fever herself? He shrank from the idea of her 
 making such a sacrifice and felt that it was better that it 
 shouldn't have occurred to her. 
 
 Presently he turned to Miss Melendy. 
 
 " Somehow, it seems a man's place," he said simply. 
 " Doctor would do it, you know, only it's up to him to see 
 his party through to the end of the journey. On the 
 whole, I seem just the peg to fit the hole, Miss Melendy." 
 
 He spoke in a light, genial way as if it were a question, 
 say, of some one in a returning picnic party lagging be- 
 hind the others to accommodate a lame member. But his 
 face told another story. One far less keen and far less
 
 FIREWEED 297 
 
 concerned than Miss Melendy must have seen something 
 of what it meant to the man. 
 
 For a little the girl gazed at him. Then she sprang to 
 her feet impulsively. But he rose, too, and towered so 
 far above her that she begged him to sit down and dropped 
 back into her own chair rather weakly. 
 
 " Listen," she said. " I'm going to stay with Miss Lan- 
 caster myself, Mr. Cotton. There isn't a single member 
 of the party except Mrs. Manners who could do it so well 
 and easily as I. I am wholly disengaged, you see. I 
 couldn't be with dad, anyhow. It wouldn't pay to go way 
 out West and back again, and I'd as leave wait here for 
 Miss Lancaster as hang around in the East waiting for 
 medical school to open. You know I loathe visiting. And 
 besides, Miss Lancaster rather likes me. Honestly, I 
 shouldn't wonder if she would prefer me to Mrs. Man- 
 ners. And I don't mind her, while you don't tell me, 
 sir! I've seen through you long since. You simply 
 can't abide Miss Lancaster ! " 
 
 " But you see I'm powerfully sorry for her just now," 
 he said ingenuously, " and I've noticed that if I get to 
 feeling so, it's quite fatal to any feeling of dislike." 
 
 " Well, you won't have a chance for this to change to a 
 liking, for you're off, sir, on the Apulia to-morrow ! " 
 
 The look in his eyes ! That look of frank, simple ad- 
 miration, which might have reminded a third person of the 
 old Greek custom of exchange of noble gifts between 
 heroes, would have more than compensated Miss Melendy 
 for a greater sacrifice. But it was not to be. He would 
 not allow her to make it. He praised her warmly, shame- 
 lessly, for her generosity, but he would not yield to her. 
 
 There wasn't much use in reiterating that it was a man's 
 job, for Hank took naturally to a man's job. But the 
 girl couldn't deny that he was older, more experienced 
 in putting things through, and that he had the further ad-
 
 298 FIREWEED 
 
 vantage of being a man, so that the job fell to him natu- 
 rally without any of the friction which she, with the best 
 will in the world, must encounter constantly. 
 
 He had won his point, and they were talking quietly, 
 when a group of the school girls who were to be com- 
 panions of the Burgess party on the Apulia came in. 
 Hank fled to her room to give way to the tears that choked 
 her. Cotton paused to chat with the girls, then went on 
 to see Mrs. Manners. He did not falter, though by this 
 time he was distinctly weary. 
 
 This was his last task for the evening, however, and 
 he didn't force himself to introduce the subject at once. 
 He dropped into the easy chair she pointed out, and 
 listened while she talked, listened and looked. He for- 
 got other things, for the nonce, forgot even his daughter 
 and the fact that he was parting with her for an indefinite 
 time, as the realization came to him that he was saying 
 farewell to Mrs. Manners herself. 
 
 There was a permanency in this parting that did not 
 belong to any of the others. After she sailed on the 
 Apulia, it was altogether unlikely that they should ever 
 meet again in an entirely informal and friendly way. 
 Back in America, there would always be something be- 
 tween them. Their names had been so publicly associ- 
 ated in the city where they lived that neither could ever 
 be so unconscious of the barrier as to be simple and nat- 
 ural. 
 
 And somehow, they had become friends. He had 
 hardly realized it ; he hadn't thought of it in that light, but 
 they had become good friends. And he should miss her. 
 He should miss her sadly. 
 
 His eyes wandered about the room. He saw her 
 trunks ready to be taken to the boat in the morning; 
 the books, baskets and stores she had ready for the voy- 
 age ; the letter she had written, conspicuous on the mantel.
 
 FIREWEED 299 
 
 Then his eyes returned to her and rested on the slender, 
 girlish figure in white, gracefully listless against the big, 
 enveloping chair, with the soft gleam on her pretty hair 
 and the pensive shadow on her small, wistful, and to 
 him at that moment strangely sweet face. 
 
 Erica was talking rather faster than usual. She hardly 
 knew what she was saying, for Cotton was not paying 
 her his wonted scrupulous attention, though his inatten- 
 tion it hardly amounted to that was somehow not 
 unflattering nor uncomfortable. And it wasn't because 
 of it that she stopped suddenly. 
 
 A pause fell between them. Cotton knew that it was 
 his chance to announce his plan. He raised his eyes and 
 smiled. But she spoke first. And her words surprised 
 herself almost as much as they amazed him. 
 
 All the while Erica had talked so glibly, she had been 
 conscious of his face, his weary, lined face with its wealth 
 of kindness and gentleness and simple faith. And when 
 she had suddenly ceased, it had seemed to be only because 
 she was abashed by his goodness. 
 
 Erica Manners loved the man before her with the inten- 
 sity of a passion that, awakening late, had gathered to 
 itself all the hitherto scattered streams of thought and 
 life and feeling, merging them into a strong river that had 
 the potentialities of a torrent. All her life, she had had 
 her will. Now, absolutely hopeless of any return of her 
 love, she craved even crumbs : to be near him, to hear 
 him speak, to have his kind glance rest upon her now and 
 then, to listen to his quaint, homely wisdom. She had 
 looked forward eagerly to the journey home. Every 
 purchase she had made, books, tea, biscuit, a little alco- 
 hol lamp, had contemplated his sharing. It would have 
 seemed easier to die, now when the impulse of life had 
 never seemed so strong, than that he should cross the 
 water, and leave her here.
 
 300 FIREWEED 
 
 If he had not come to her with that weary face? Who 
 knows! But somehow it seemed as if that wave of pity 
 
 pity passionate as love but more unselfish that 
 surged through Erica as she looked into that homely, 
 noble face, had burned away the remaining dross of her 
 selfishness. How gladly would she have flung her arms 
 about him! How she would have liked, above all other 
 things, to have had him rest his head upon her breast. 
 She yearned to smooth out the lines in his brow, to stroke 
 his hair, growing thin and gray, and to press her cheek 
 against his. 
 
 Instead, the tribute his personality demanded of her 
 was the very negation of all this. She was not to think 
 of the crumbs she had craved and had been grateful for. 
 Instead of striving to do something for his comfort, of 
 making the voyage pleasant, even joyous to him, she must 
 
 put herself beyond the possibility of any smallest serv- 
 ice. The homage she must pay him was simply to do 
 her duty, her plain, bare, prosaic, commonplace, disagree- 
 able duty. Her heart cried out against it, against the idea 
 that romantic, passionate love should command her to 
 perform a duty which not only had nothing to do with 
 the beloved, but which should separate her from him and 
 the ways wherein he walked, perhaps forever. 
 
 As she started to speak, Erica half rose in an instinc- 
 tive motion to draw her chair nearer to his. With his 
 wonted clearness of understanding, he accomplished it 
 for her, placing it close to his own but turned a little so 
 that they could look into one another's faces. 
 
 "You have probably noticed, Mr. Cotton, that I am 
 packed and ready," she began. "And yet after all, 
 I'm not going on the Apulia with you and the others. I 
 have got to stay here with Libby Lancaster. I can't go 
 off and leave her here alone. Now, can I?" 
 
 " Why Mrs. Manners," he exclaimed, too taken aback 
 really to conceive the matter.
 
 FIREWEED 301 
 
 " I ought to stay. Don't you think so ? " she asked. 
 
 He frowned a little. 
 
 " Why, it's hard to say off the bat. Someone ought 
 to. But isn't it, perhaps, rather a man's job?" 
 
 " Not in this instance," she said firmly. " If I had 
 been taken ill, there would have been no question of 
 Libby's staying with me. I brought her over here, and 
 I'm responsible for her. If anything should happen to 
 her, how should I ever face her friends?" 
 
 She flushed. " No, I don't mean that. Even if I were 
 assured that she would get well and nothing should hap- 
 pen, and even if she hadn't any family or friends, I should 
 have to stay with her just the same." 
 
 " You're fond of her ? " he hazarded. She looked into 
 his eyes. 
 
 " I 'm used to her. I don't believe I am fond of her 
 not very. I am really under obligation to her, but I don't 
 take to her. However, I'm awfully sorry for her and 
 I'll be good to her. I'll be patience itself." 
 
 She smiled, rather touchingly, it seemed to Cotton. 
 
 " Of course you would," he declared, though dear 
 knows he had reason to think otherwise. " But some- 
 one else might do as well. Someone else might just 
 stay on and get her back home when she recovers. You 
 see, Mrs. Manners, there may be difficulties. And one 
 would have to reckon with the possibility of having to 
 remain all winter in case, you know, Italy went in with 
 the Alliance. I don't think, myself, however, that she 
 will." 
 
 At that Erica paled noticeably. She clasped her hands 
 convulsively. But she spoke with a firm voice. 
 
 " Even so, it's up to me to no one else," she assever- 
 ated. " I shouldn't have chosen it, I confess ; but I sup- 
 pose I could put it through even at the worst. I know 
 how to travel and how to get on in foreign countries and I
 
 302 FIREWEED 
 
 speak French and Italian. I have money enough and to 
 spare, and after all, there's nothing in the world to call 
 me home. I can't do otherwise than stay. Please tell 
 me, Mr. Cotton, if that isn't the way it looks to you." 
 
 " I reckon that's about as it is," he admitted regretfully. 
 But his look meant volumes and Erica hugged it to her 
 aching heart. 
 
 Her eyes fell before it, but presently she gazed up at 
 him through downcast lashes as if endeavoring to grave 
 his face upon her memory, though in truth it had been 
 impressed indelibly there this many a day. It came to 
 her that on the morrow at this hour he would be a hun- 
 dred miles away and speeding on further. And she 
 would be here all alone. 
 
 She rose abruptly. Going to the casement, she looked 
 out, but she did not see the bay nor the dim shadow of 
 Vesuvius against the dark, starry sky. Returning, she 
 stood with her arm resting on the mantel. Cotton waited, 
 his hand on the door. 
 
 " I hate to have you go," she faltered. " I hate to 
 stay behind. Oh Mr. Cotton, I hate to like hell!" 
 
 He was at her side in an instant. He reached out his 
 hand a big, brown cavern of a hand for her little white 
 one, and when she gave it gratefully, covered it with both 
 his. 
 
 " But I'm glad at the same time," she said, smiling 
 through tears. " I'm glad to do it because it is hard 
 once in a lifetime."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 INQUIRY being made at breakfast for Cotton, Dr. Bur- 
 gess explained that he had gone down to the boat again 
 about midnight and returning at dawn had been compelled 
 by Miss Nancy to lie down and have a late breakfast. 
 
 " The Apulia's a staunch craft, he reports, and our 
 quarters very comfortable," he added. " They were se- 
 lected, you see, by wealthy parents for their daughters. 
 Poor girls ! I hope they'll be able to get to England and 
 get home that way." 
 
 " It's just like Mr. Cotton, taking all that trouble, 
 isn't it ! " exclaimed Miss Williams, taking off her spec- 
 tacles to wipe her eyes, then prudently improving the oc- 
 casion by polishing the lenses. 
 
 " And isn't it like him to stay over here to guard Miss 
 Lancaster ! " cried Miss Melendy. 
 
 " Why, Hank ! " cried Miss Williams, Miss Little and 
 Miss Griffiths all together. 
 
 "Surely, you don't mean it, Hank?" Miss Cameron 
 asked anxiously. 
 
 Miss Melendy repeated the statement and Mrs. Miles 
 confirmed it. 
 
 " But how about Mrs. Manners?" Miss Little inquired. 
 
 Hank shrugged her shoulders. " She's sailing with us," 
 she said. 
 
 The proprietor of the hotel had engaged Dr. Burgess in 
 conversation, but he heard just enough of what was going 
 on around the table to be exceedingly ill at ease. 
 
 303
 
 304 FIREWEED 
 
 "One would almost think" Miss Cameron began, 
 but checked herself. 
 
 " It was up to her ? " Hank completed. " Rather ! " 
 
 " Dear me, I don't know about that," protested Mrs. 
 Miles. " I'm sure I should be at my wit's end to be over 
 here all alone except for a sick person out of her head. I 
 shouldn't dare to do it, and I presume Mrs. Manners 
 feels just the same. But, oh dear me, I can't bear the 
 thought of going without Mr. Cotton. Suppose we all 
 wait?" 
 
 Dr. Burgess, released just in time to hear this wish, 
 groaned aloud. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Miles, if you knew half that I have been 
 through to get this party out and off, and how I long to 
 have you all safely on board before anything else happens, 
 you wouldn't make any such proposal. It fairly makes 
 my hair stand on end ! " 
 
 He smiled and added : " And anyhow, we aren't to lose 
 Mr. Cotton after all. Mrs. Manners herself is to remain 
 with Miss Lancaster." 
 
 The murmur that rose was as a sort of refrain for 
 Mrs. Miles's " Now I consider that right sweet of Mrs. 
 Manners ! " 
 
 As for Miss Melendy, she seemed to be gasping for 
 breath. Mrs. Manners hadn't accepted Mr. Cotton's 
 sacrifice. Rather than do so, she was remaining here 
 herself. It didn't seem possible. Under cover of the 
 buzz of conversation about her, the girl fell into a brown 
 study. She couldn't understand it, that Mrs. Man- 
 ners should separate herself deliberately, for an indefinite 
 period of time, from Mr. Cotton ; that she, who hardly 
 could allow him out of her sight, should suffer the 
 breadth of the war-time seas between them. What did 
 it mean? Was she hauling in the nets she had spread? 
 Had she learned that all her springes were in vain?
 
 FIREWEED 305 
 
 Surely nothing less critical could have induced her so to 
 act. And yet 
 
 She was recalled by hearing Nancy's name. Maude 
 Griffiths was saying something about the relief it would 
 be to her. 
 
 Hank knew it would indeed be great. She tried not 
 to think what it would mean to herself. And Nancy was 
 such a changed creature, such a charmingly sprightly 
 young thing that she didn't even regret one particular 
 plan that would be called off. When Cotton had spoken 
 the night before of having Nancy met in New York, she 
 had casually suggested Stokes. He had agreed and had 
 sent a cable to that effect which had seemed to go through. 
 Well, there was no need, after all, of forcing things. 
 There would be time and occasion for everything to work 
 out naturally, she felt sure. And the more so with Mrs. 
 Manners (Hank had almost said " poor Mrs. Manners ! ") 
 shut up in Italy. 
 
 "We certainly need Mr. Cotton almost as much as 
 Nancy does to cheer us in parting with the dust and fleas 
 and cripples of Naples," Miss Little declared. " Gra- 
 cious heavens! I believe every solitary cripple in Italy 
 gravitates right here. There's one at every corner and 
 one between corners, and one at the top, bottom and land- 
 ing of every flight of steps, and, dear knows, stairs are 
 legion in Naples." 
 
 " Well, Mary, I confess that I shall miss the goats go- 
 ing by my window early in the morning. They are such 
 pretty creatures," murmured Maude Griffiths, who was 
 a pretty creature herself, in her pongee frock with her 
 hair curling round her pink little face. 
 
 " And the goat-herd. Has anyone noticed how un- 
 usual he is ? " added Mary Little. 
 
 " Rather a swell for that job, it struck me," Hank de- 
 clared.
 
 3o6 FIREWEED 
 
 " Yes, he really is above it," asseverated Mary seriously. 
 " He has a simply magnificent tenor voice, no, I be- 
 lieve it's barytone. Yes, I'm sure it is. Haven't you all 
 heard snatches of opera as he came over the hill ? " 
 
 " He sang * Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay ' for the Wards, be- 
 lieving it to be the British national anthem," chuckled Dr. 
 Burgess. 
 
 "Just as the kids on the street expect coppers when 
 they say ' Skidoo ' to an American," said Hank. " They 
 seem to think it's a general hail-and-farewell and univer- 
 sal password." 
 
 " It'll be nice to get where passwords aren't neces- 
 sary," remarked Mrs. Miles rather dolefully. Miss Wil- 
 liams prevented any one from echoing that sentiment by 
 rising so suddenly from her place that she startled the 
 whole group, all of whose nerves were a bit shaky. They 
 saw that Mrs. Manners had come in. 
 
 They crowded about her, heaping praises upon her for 
 her devotion and courage, assuring her how sadly they 
 should miss her. But somehow, Erica seemed to have lost 
 her appetite for flattery and even for praise. She tried to 
 take an interest in their various preoccupations for the 
 morning, but she couldn't even do that. She felt cold 
 and numb. Unconsciously, she was keeping on the sur- 
 face lest she go too far beneath the crust. 
 
 The others scattered. After a cup of coffee, Erica 
 drove to the hospital. Miss Lancaster was no better, nor 
 yet any worse. 
 
 Cotton, it seemed, had been there already to inquire. 
 He would, she knew now, spend his day going about on 
 her business, striving to leave everything as comfortable 
 for her as might be. He would probably be with the 
 consul now. Of course, being himself, he couldn't do 
 otherwise. But, oh, Erica wished he would just let things 
 go hang and spend the same amount of time with her !
 
 FIREWEED 307 
 
 She needed and wanted moral stiffening so sadly, more 
 than anything else. And she so wanted it for memory, a 
 quiet hour with him. 
 
 From the hospital she drove down into the city, where 
 she purchased charming baskets of fruit, one for each of 
 those going on the Apulia, and sent them aboard. There 
 were oranges on sprays of waxy leaves, Hamburg grapes 
 of immense size and wonderful color, purple and green 
 figs, and a nosegay of flowers in each. Prices had 
 doubled and quadrupled, but she did not mind emptying 
 her portemonnaie. When she returned to the hotel, Cot- 
 ton was still abroad. 
 
 Her window overlooked the entrance and the approach 
 to the hotel. At luncheon time he was still away. She 
 went absently out. It was a hurried meal, for the party 
 were to be driven to the boat directly afterwards though 
 the hour of sailing had been postponed. Because of this, 
 nerves were at high tension, every one doubting that they 
 would get away at all. The arrival at the hotel of guests 
 who had had harrowing experiences and seen terrible 
 sights coming from the North, and who were frantically 
 anxious to get passage for America, added to the sense 
 of uncertainty and peril. 
 
 Erica heard the discussion vaguely, conscious, however, 
 that it would all come back to her clearly to harass her 
 mind when she should be alone. Nevertheless it wasn't 
 that that made her so white and wretched. It was dis- 
 may, utter discouragement, that seized upon her as she 
 heard Cotton, who came in late, explain that directly he 
 had had a bite of luncheon, he must return to the consu- 
 late. He would meet them at the boat in good time, how- 
 ever, for there were at least two hours extra, and might 
 be double as many. 
 
 He smiled kindly across at Erica as he sat down, and 
 immediately turned the conversation away from the hor-
 
 3 o8 FIREWEED 
 
 rors of war, evidently with her in mind. But he hadn't 
 apparently any intention of saving time for anything more 
 than an hurried farewell. 
 
 She was to see the others off. She had agreed to fol- 
 low them in time to go over the boat, examine their quar- 
 ters, and inspect the various possibilities of comfort and 
 amusement. She wondered if Mr. Cotton expected to 
 see her only at that crowded moment. But she decided 
 to wait at the hotel until the latest possible minute in case 
 she should have an opportunity of seeing him here, and 
 then, failing that, to make the most of the chance on 
 the boat. 
 
 She dressed hastily, donning her most becoming frock, 
 the embroidered raw silk she had found in Paris. She 
 fastened the lace collar with a turquoise matrix set in 
 dull gold matching the buckle of the girdle. The long, 
 loose cloak of the same material, lined with turquoise 
 blue satin, was ready on the couch, with hat, gloves and 
 sunshade to match. Ready for any eventuality, she sat 
 down by the window to witness the departure of these 
 folk who had somehow, singly and collectively, crept 
 into her heart so as to seem already old familiar 
 friends. 
 
 The row of empty carriages stood for some time before 
 anyone appeared. Something must have caused a delay. 
 She had heard Dr. Burgess say that they should not start 
 until everyone was ready. But suddenly the little group 
 of servants straightened themselves expectantly, and she 
 saw that they were coming. And despite her anxious 
 preoccupation, she watched their movements affection- 
 ately. 
 
 Dr. Burgess and his wife advanced to the first carriage, 
 the lady beamingly happy, even at this distance, in the 
 consciousness that she should have ten days of her hus- 
 band's almost undivided attention in the interval before
 
 FIREWEED 309 
 
 his church would be claiming what the party had had. 
 Erica knew she would be gloating over the fact that there 
 were no galleries nor ruins at sea not even an excursion 
 lasting from breakfast to luncheon. She could sit all 
 day beside her lord in the steamer chair. 
 
 Miss Cameron and Maude Griffiths followed, their 
 correct (and rather pedagogical) traveling suits complete, 
 from neat little veils to neat spats, their faces keen with in- 
 telligence at a moment when every one else's mind seemed 
 to be in abeyance. Miss Cameron's pupils would be en- 
 riched by her summer, while Maude Griffiths well, a 
 pretty, sweet creature like Maude wouldn't be teaching 
 when she reached Miss Cameron's age. 
 
 Miss Little kept the line waiting while she chattered 
 her mongrel Italian with Fabriano, her waiter, whom she 
 believed to be inconsolable at her departure. Her laugh- 
 ter in the face of the distressed calls of the others that 
 they would lose the boat, her high color, her repeated offer 
 of her hand to the astute fellow who was plainly concerned 
 only over the size of his fee, all this must have dis- 
 gusted Erica once, not long since. To-day, with her 
 vivid, ever-present consciousness of the morrow's loneli- 
 ness, of her isolation from English-speaking people in a 
 beleaguered land, she could readily fancy herself longing 
 to see Mary Little's flushed face and to hear her gurgling 
 laughter. 
 
 The gift was finally forthcoming and seemingly quite 
 satisfactory. Miss Little climbed into her carriage in 
 which she rode alone in order to accommodate extra lug- 
 gage. Miss Budd and Miss Williams came next, the 
 former looking stouter than ever in her bright blue figured 
 foulard, sitting placidly erect, looking out over her capa- 
 cious bosom like one posted behind fortifications, calmly 
 content as ever with the status quo. Miss Williams, at her 
 side, was as birdlike as ever, wiping her eyes, polishing
 
 3 io FIREWEED 
 
 her glasses, and making little quick dabs at the luggage 
 to see that it was safely stored and all there. 
 
 Mrs. Miles, Miss Melendy and Nancy Cotton brought 
 up the rear. Upon every line of Mrs. Miles's plump face, 
 with its flushed apologetic half -smile, and upon every de- 
 tail of her ill-adjusted clothing, was written the cause of 
 the delay of the party in setting forth. Erica felt sure 
 that there were buttons missing on the back of her blouse 
 which the faithful Miss Melendy had had to replace with 
 what Mrs. Miles was pleased to call "beauty pins," that 
 her belt had refused to meet and had required splicing, 
 and that the wide lace collar and cuffs, which made her 
 face look fuller and redder than ever, had been hastily 
 pinned on the jacket of the smart suit she had purchased 
 at Florence. 
 
 And yet there it was again, that haunting spectre 
 of loneliness! who was so faithful and so genuinely 
 kind and charitable as Mrs. Miles? She would always 
 have her word in favor of the absent one, would always 
 be ready to listen eagerly to the most trite remarks the 
 stupidest might wish to relieve their minds of. She would 
 remain imperturbably good natured through everything 
 and would meet her Miles on the opposite side with all 
 the rapture said to characterize the meeting of saints on 
 the heavenly shore. 
 
 Miss Melendy wore a suit of soft brown corduroy with 
 conspicuous pockets on the Norfolk jacket, which opened 
 to show a neat white shirt and cravat and heavy watch 
 guards. The soft, broad-brimmed felt hat was more be- 
 coming than the Panama she had worn, and there was 
 something very attractive in the face it framed and shaded. 
 It seemed as if there was something in the girl's face 
 that had not been there when Erica had first looked upon 
 it in Paris. Where was it? Oh, at the Tomb of Napo- 
 leon. She was thinner of course, small wonder with
 
 FIREWEED 311 
 
 her constant exercise, but well, she wouldn't look sad 
 once they were started. She would bloom under the com- 
 panionship of Mr. Cotton, and it was no more than 
 her desert. And he would be happy with her and Mrs. 
 Miles and Nancy. And Erica drew a quick little breath 
 as she recognized the covered wicker basket containing 
 the alcohol lamp and all the tea-things she had collected so 
 happily which she had handed over to Mrs. Miles. 
 
 Most curiously, in contrast to Miss Melendy, Nancy 
 Cotton was almost rosy. Erica couldn't understand how 
 the delicate girl, after drooping through England and 
 Holland, as Mrs. Miles said she had done, being almost 
 floored in Paris, and falling into invalid ways in Italy, 
 should have been refreshed and revivified by Naples. 
 And it couldn't be attributed to excitement because she 
 was going home. That might account for the color but 
 not for the loss of the hollows in her cheeks, the shadows 
 under her eyes and the animation that replaced her former 
 spiritless languor. Cotton, she knew, attributed the change 
 to Miss Melendy, and Erica felt that it was very likely he 
 was right. 
 
 Erica turned from the window. The last brigand-like 
 driver had cracked the whip fiercely above the backs of 
 the last pair of sorry-looking horses (which Mr. Cotton 
 declared would have been far sorrier-looking but for 
 Garibaldi) ; the last wheels had whirled away, and the last 
 cloud of dust in their wake dissipated. With all their 
 delay, they could almost have caught the Apulia at the 
 hour originally named. It was well for her, however, 
 that they hadn't been characteristically prompt, for her 
 mind had been occupied and now she wouldn't have long 
 to wait for Mr. Cotton. She was thankful that she was 
 dressed so that every minute was her own. 
 
 Surely, he would come. It would be unlike him not 
 to give her the results of his efforts in her behalf before
 
 3 i2 FIREWEED 
 
 he joined the others, and to express his good wishes to 
 her alone. 
 
 Folding her hands in her lap, Erica dropped back in 
 her chair. Now she was not thinking nor musing nor 
 dreaming. She was waiting, and for the moment so sure 
 was she of his coming, that it was an ecstasy of waiting. 
 Behind her lay the past that she had disowned, and a 
 recent past too recent to be labeled ; before her stretched 
 a long dreary future, reaching from the sailing of the 
 Apulia until she knew not when, at the very least to 
 the end of this uncertain exile, and quite likely long after- 
 wards. Between these arid deserts was or was to be 
 this wonderful emerald oasis, so marvelously fair that she 
 closed her eyes involuntarily in the sense of enchantment 
 that thrilled her almost into unconsciousness. 
 
 The minutes stole by, perhaps half an hour had passed. 
 Erica had seemed to herself to be at the height, the quin- 
 tessence of consciousness ; but she was startled out of it, as 
 from sound sleep, the depths of unconsciousness, by a 
 strangely alien thought. She had quite forgotten! She 
 was to have visited her baby's grave directly after land- 
 ing from the steamship. 
 
 Poor little grave ! It would be unvisited now for many 
 weeks, perhaps months! Ah! but what would a few 
 months mean after seven years! Nothing, only she 
 had wanted to whisper certain words down into the dark- 
 ness, to press her face against the turf and say how sorry 
 she was. 
 
 Rising, she leaned out through the casement. Why 
 didn't he come? Why couldn't he understand that she 
 would far rather have her affairs in the direst confusion, 
 would rather be left on the frontier between opposing 
 armies, than lose this precious time. She could have 
 arranged everything after he had gone. She would be 
 craving some activity aside from driving to the hospital
 
 FIREWEED 313 
 
 for bulletins regarding Libby's condition. She would 
 sooner be unable to draw sufficient money to hire a cab 
 and be forced to walk miles upon miles in hot, dusty 
 Naples than miss one minute of the time she craved. As 
 it was, she could now wait only half an hour at the latest, 
 then drive furiously to the boat to redeem her promise. 
 
 Ten minutes passed. She was pacing the floor. An- 
 other ten passed and she wrung her hands. Ah! she 
 couldn't endure it only to see him on the crowded boat 
 among all the others, she cried out : she must have some 
 little intimate, understanding word all her own. Even 
 Miss Melendy wouldn't grudge her that grace. Well, if 
 he came within a few minutes, they could drive to the 
 Apulia together. 
 
 Seating herself, her thoughts reverted straight to that 
 little grave again. It came to her that Alex lay beside 
 the child his child and hers. Remembering that, could 
 she bear to visit the spot? 
 
 Wildly, she sprang to her feet. She couldn't decide 
 now. Afterwards, why, there would be nothing for 
 her but time, time, time, leisure, leisure, leisure, and she 
 could face that question and any other that came up. 
 There would be ample leisure for repentance. 
 
 A boy came to the door to say that her carriage was 
 ready. She gave him money for himself and to pay the 
 driver and asked him to get her a motor car. With a 
 sorry realization of her likeness to Bluebeard's wife, she 
 ran to the casement and watched with clasped hands for 
 any sign of the form she expected. Still she could not 
 bear to think that he would not come. For if she only 
 saw him in the midst of the confusion on the vessel, what 
 would she have to live on during the long, empty days ? 
 
 Again the boy came and announced the motor car. 
 The manager of the hotel had told her that he expected 
 Mr. Cotton back, and she longed to wait. She had prom-
 
 514 FIREWEED 
 
 ised to go to the boat, but they would think she had been 
 delayed. Ah ! but that wasn't true, and she had promised. 
 With one long, last look from the window, she left the 
 room, entered the car and was hurried down to the land- 
 ing.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 IT was very late before the Apulia finally got under 
 way, quite too dark for the farewell view of Vesuvius, 
 Capri and the Bay of Naples the more optimistic among 
 the passengers had anticipated. The majority, however, 
 were too thankful to feel the vessel moving to have any re- 
 grets. The throb of the machinery and the trail of the 
 wake in the dark water were all that they desired. For, 
 what with some of the crew being taken off at the last 
 moment and having to be replaced by others, passengers 
 who had fallen heirs to tickets of persons failing to ar- 
 rive rushing out to secure passports in case the vessel 
 be held up, and other more uncertain causes of delay, 
 hours had already elapsed that would have carried them 
 well out into the Mediterranean. 
 
 Erica Manners had more time than she cared for in the 
 circumstances. She boarded the vessel, found the quar- 
 ters of the Burgess party, and saw the members, singly 
 and in groups. Cotton had not yet come. Miss Melendy 
 had Nancy lying in her berth in preparation for the long 
 standing on deck when the time for starting drew near. 
 The others, with the exception of Miss Budd and Mrs. 
 Burgess, were moving restlessly about from deck to cabin, 
 from cabin to lounge and companion way, in the attempt to 
 relieve or forget or disguise their anxiety. Miss Budd 
 was calmly unpacking and stowing away her steamer lug- 
 gage, and Mrs. Burgess was beginning a piece of em- 
 broidery that was to be a souvenir of the voyage. 
 
 Strive as she would and did, Erica could not so enter 
 
 315
 
 3 i6 FIREWEED 
 
 into the partings as to make them seem satisfactory or 
 sufficient. The vessel was shortly so crowded that there 
 was nothing to do but to take refuge in staterooms, and 
 still people thronged on. Perhaps in any case, in all the 
 confusion and anxiety, intercourse must have been rather 
 perfunctory. As it was, Erica's mind was cruelly di- 
 vided. Would Cotton ever come? she was asking herself 
 in the midst of assuring Mrs. Miles that the first time she 
 came West she would visit her and meet Miles. Was he 
 already here? Would there be any chance of seeing him 
 alone? Absolutely none. Finally Erica resigned herself 
 perforce to that, but when it began to look as if she should 
 not see him at all, she felt that she could not bear it. 
 
 Finally, a whistle began to blow shrilly, frantically, sig- 
 naling all on board who were not sailing to leave the ves- 
 sel. There was a mad rush for the gangplank. Late 
 comers, forming a mob in themselves, appeared simultane- 
 ously to board the vessel, and, for a little, confusion was 
 almost panic. Erica stood wearily aside until the worst 
 was over. Nothing mattered to her now. 
 
 When at length there was an opportunity to go down, 
 she scanned the faces of the stragglers ascending. Cot- 
 ton had probably been one of the indistinguishable crowd 
 that had embarked already ; but when porters, with bulky, 
 belated luggage blocked her view, she felt somehow that 
 she had missed him in those minutes. 
 
 A goodly number of people stood on the wooden pier to 
 await the sailing of the vessel, but there was no crowd 
 and Erica took her stand in a conspicuous place. When 
 a whistle blew, she got out her pocket handkerchief ready 
 to wave, and looking up tried to distinguish her friends 
 among the sea of faces far above her. But dusk was 
 coming on, and she failed to find them and waited for a 
 signal which did not come. Other whistles sounded at 
 intervals, sharp, shrill shrieks that pierced her very soul,
 
 FIREWEED 317 
 
 but nothing happened. The dusk deepened. Stragglers 
 continued to arrive, taking the gangplank in leaps and 
 bounds as if they expected it to double up beneath them 
 and drop them into the sea. But though among them 
 there were tall men, there was none inordinately tall, and 
 though there were thin men and gaunt, there was none 
 who was thin and gaunt and very tall. Erica scanned the 
 deck again. A white blot she saw might have been a 
 Panama hat. In any event, when the vessel started all 
 she could do was to wave towards that. 
 
 The lingering afterglow faded out over the bay. The 
 sky darkened and the stars came out. Still people gath- 
 ered on the pier and now Erica was one of an indistin- 
 guishable throng. Noise and confusion abounded. Boys 
 and men stood on the extreme edge of the platform 
 hawking all sorts of articles from steamer chairs to tin 
 washing-basins and palm leaf fans. Men and women in 
 boats crawled close up to the great bulk of the vessel 
 holding up baskets of fruits and flowers, crying " Vare 
 sheep, vare sheep," and skilfully tossing up ropes by 
 which purchasers might haul up their booty and send down 
 the money. Half naked, dark-skinned little boys cleared 
 a stage for themselves at the front by means of elbowing 
 and anticking, then turned handsprings and sang " Santa 
 Lucia " over and over in hoarse voices for coppers from 
 the deck. 
 
 Amid it all, Erica stood like a stone. It was quite 
 vain. She would stand and watch the dark hulk until it 
 bore him away from her out into the blackness without 
 one last word, one farewell look. She might never see 
 him again. He might be going to his grave or she meet- 
 ing hers. A thousand, thousand things might happen. 
 And her grief for any one of them would be the deeper 
 and the heavier for the fact of their having separated 
 without parting.
 
 3 i8 FIRE WEED 
 
 She would have nothing to hold to, nothing to live 
 on. It seemed as if she could not have it so, as if she 
 must do something. But what was there to do? Noth- 
 ing, nothing. Only this bootless waiting here in the 
 darkness alone for the moment to come when she would 
 wave her hand into space, and they would sail out 
 towards the Mediterranean and Gibraltar and the great 
 Atlantic. 
 
 More and more frequently, the vessel gave vent to those 
 piercing, heartrending shrieks. But the gangplank was 
 still down. Men and occasionally women straggled up, 
 and one man came down. A serious looking but young- 
 ish man, the shaft of light showed him to be, thin, a bit 
 shabby, stooping a little, though he needed every inch of 
 his height. When he approached an Italian group stand- 
 ing beside Erica, she saw a good, whimsical face and 
 kindly, eager eyes behind large spectacles. 
 
 He wore no hat and the lady kept warning him ner- 
 vously that he would be left behind, but he was not con- 
 cerned. He answered her perfectly intelligible mixture 
 of Italian and English by a curious corruption that was 
 far more confusing to her than undiluted English would 
 have been. 
 
 " Gotta mucha timee alia samee," he reiterated sweetly, 
 while she shook her head frowningly. 
 
 At the same time that she witnessed this, Erica was 
 dimly aware of some particular commotion on the vessel, 
 indicated by high voices, hysterical cries, and sobbing. 
 She wondered vaguely then poignantly if some one had 
 been hurt. She half turned to ask her neighbor's opin- 
 ion as to that, just as a messenger appeared with a sum- 
 mons for the young man in spectacles. Whereupon he 
 shook hands again with his friends and they hurried 
 away. He himself, however, took his time. 
 
 " What's the row ? " he inquired of the boy.
 
 FIREWEED 319 
 
 " Lydy off 'er 'ed cause 'er cawn't go, " said the lad. 
 
 " No ticket ? " the other asked. 
 
 The boy explained that she had had one, but being in 
 Germany, her friend had sold it, never dreaming she could 
 get through. She had managed it somehow, perhaps be- 
 cause she wasn't in Germany at all, and had taken a long 
 journey by motor and reached the boat. But the guy 
 who had bought the ticket wouldn't part with it and the 
 poor lydy fairly 'owled. The officers were tyking her 
 off. 
 
 Now the young man started as if catapulted towards 
 the gangplank. He reached it, Erica saw, just in time to 
 meet the hysterical woman coming down between two 
 officials. It was quite dark, but a flaring light on the 
 dock revealed the scene as if for her benefit. She saw 
 the young man stop the officials and parley with them. 
 How like Mr. Cotton that was, his championing that poor 
 hysterical creature whom Erica would have called vul- 
 gar not so long since. Finally he took out his pocket book 
 and handed something out. They all turned and went on 
 together, the lady on the young man's arm. 
 
 Erica sighed deeply. As she watched idly for the gang- 
 plank to be removed, she saw the young man descending in 
 hat and top coat, with a valise in either hand, an umbrella, 
 walking stick, camera and several books, stepping blithely 
 down. He returned to the place where his friends had 
 been, dropped his luggage, all but the books, which he held 
 under one arm, and leaning nonchalantly upon his walking 
 stick, gazed up at the boat. 
 
 " Aren't you going ? " she gasped. 
 
 " Not this trip, Miss," he returned smiling. 
 
 " Was it you that had that woman's ticket ? " 
 
 " Not exactly, but it might have been." 
 
 " She is a stranger to you ? " 
 
 He nodded.
 
 320 FIREWEED 
 
 " And you gave up your ticket to her ? " she demanded 
 warmly. 
 
 " She was mad to get home," he murmured apologeti- 
 cally. " And I didn't care so much. You know, I just 
 hated to leave Rome. If I had gotten back to Denver and 
 heard that the Austrians were bombarding the Forum, 
 I should have wanted to take the next boat back, and sup- 
 pose there hadn't been one ? And really, it's no more than 
 fair, for that was the way I came by my ticket off a 
 fellow's partner who sold it to me for American Express 
 cheques. But I sha'n't even miss the money. You 
 know the Tennessee's at Falmouth." 
 
 He jerked out his sentences, smiling in embarrassed 
 fashion. 
 
 " And if Italy goes in ? " she asked. 
 
 " I should worry," returned the solemn looking young 
 man, and they both laughed. 
 
 They waited together, mostly in silence, but now and 
 then making little friendly remarks that relieved the lone- 
 liness. The young fellow's nonchalant sacrifice had 
 warmed Erica's heart. It would please Mr. Cotton when 
 she wrote him about it. She knew now that she would 
 find on her return to the hotel a scribbled note from him 
 that would explain. 
 
 Dreading the long drive up to the Parco Margherita 
 with the fierce Neapolitan cab drivers, she asked her com- 
 panion where he was staying. He named a place at the 
 opposite end of the city. 
 
 " It won't be easy to get cabs afterwards," he said, " and 
 I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll snap up one first thing and 
 land you wherever you want to go and then have him 
 drop me after that." 
 
 " Oh if you would ! " she cried gratefully, then flinched 
 at a loud blast from the steamship's whistle. 
 
 Involuntarily she wrung her hands. She thought she
 
 FIREWEED 321 
 
 had given up, but in truth until this moment she had hoped 
 against hope. He was going, and she was alone in Eu- 
 rope, alone in this dark, forbidding, frightful city of 
 Naples ! 
 
 The gangplank was drawn up. Shouts from above 
 answered shouts from all about her, and there was a 
 flashing of fluttering handkerchiefs. A moment, and the 
 Apulia was slipping silently away into the darkness. 
 The young man at Erica's side, dimly aware of her an- 
 guish, spoke in an easy, offhand way. 
 
 " Do you know, the very last chap to come down looked 
 like a man I got to know a bit in Rome. Gee ! but I wish 
 it might be ! " 
 
 But Erica heard only the sound of his voice. She 
 stood in stony silence. Still the dark hulk was visible, 
 though on the very moment of dissolution into the black- 
 ness. There was no further shouting. It seemed as if 
 those on the vessel like those on shore were unaware of 
 the exact moment of starting, so that they were under 
 way before either knew it. Or perhaps it was too 
 solemn a moment for those on board to make any demon- 
 stration, or for the English-speaking folk below. It 
 might have seemed that no passenger ship ever sailed out 
 into the Bay of Naples to cross the Atlantic with less 
 valedictory ceremony. 
 
 The shabby young man had been right. It was the 
 chap he had seen in the Forum. And just after the vessel 
 disappeared into the darkness, he came straight towards 
 the place where the younger man stood, apparently in 
 search of him, and the face of the latter beamed with 
 joy. 
 
 He was about to ask the strange young lady to excuse 
 him and wait a few seconds while he greeted his friend, 
 after which he would fetch the cab, when she, too, caught 
 sight of the other man. Good heavens! she knew him,
 
 322 FIREWEED 
 
 too. Her face was she going into hysterics, also, or 
 would she faint? No, Great Scott! she had fallen into 
 the arms of the stranger and was weeping on his breast. 
 
 Well, this was apparently no place for J. Cawthorne. 
 The young lady wouldn't need his help to get to her stop- 
 ping place. He hated awfully to lose sight of the tall 
 chap, but this was truly no moment to approach him, even 
 to make a hasty date for meeting on the morrow. And 
 anyhow, he had this chance. If he didn't encounter him 
 at the consulate or at Pompeii, he would go straight to 
 the Roman Forum and await him there. 
 
 And J. Cawthorne picked up his bags, his umbrella, and 
 camera and staggered away under his burden without a 
 backward look.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 JUST after the middle of August, Philip Stokes received 
 a cable message from Cotton asking him to meet Nancy, 
 who was leaving Naples on the SS. Apulia on the four- 
 teenth instant. He was perplexed as well as troubled. 
 What could it mean ? Why should Cotton remain abroad 
 at this critical moment, separating himself from Nancy 
 for the first time? 
 
 For his part, however, Stokes was more than pleased 
 to meet Nancy and escort her home. The only complica- 
 tion was that Erica Manners would be on the same ves- 
 sel and he didn't feel sure of himself with regard to her. 
 He hadn't yet received his letter of dismissal from her it 
 came on the Apulia but of late since he had learned of 
 her thrusting herself so rudely upon the Cottons, he had 
 had some respite from his former constant dwelling upon 
 her, some genuine relief. He hoped it might be an 
 earnest that he should finally break with her completely, 
 as he had so long endeavored to do, but never before with 
 so much foundation as now. If he met her now and 
 found her disagreeable and caustic, he could face it; but 
 if she should be at all friendly, if she should exert ever 
 so carelessly her abundant charm, he feared he would 
 capitulate at sight and grovel at her feet. 
 
 As the Apulia came up from quarantine early on the 
 second Monday morning after she sailed, Stokes was one 
 of the foremost of the throng gathered on the pier. And 
 his heart told him before his eyes had ascertained the 
 fact that Erica Manners was not aboard. 
 
 323
 
 324 FIREWEED 
 
 The sensation he experienced was that of overwhelm- 
 ing relief. It seemed at the moment, moreover, to be 
 more than the consciousness of escape from an awkward 
 predicament. It was so deep, so profound as to be a 
 positive rather than a negative sensation. It almost 
 seemed to him as if the years with their ugly freight 
 dropped from him and he stood erect and young again. 
 His heart certainly leaped at the idea of greeting the young 
 girl who would be unfeignedly glad to see him. He could 
 almost understand the joy of the rustic swain about to 
 meet his sweetheart. 
 
 Nancy came off with "Miss Melendy. Upon seeing 
 Stokes, the girl flushed all over in the prettiest confusion. 
 As he took her hand, he was seized with the desire to 
 kiss her pink cheek, as if she were a favorite little cousin 
 or he the aforementioned swain. Instead, he pressed her 
 hand very warmly in lieu of his wonted indolent touch, 
 and a rare smile lighted his bored face and lifted his lazy 
 lids to show the gleam in his fine gray eyes. 
 
 Though there was no second spring for Philip Stokes, 
 he was even now entering upon a rarely mellow Indian 
 summer which promised to be a far happier season and 
 more permanent. Certainly its sunshine was sweeter 
 and its flowers more fragant than any earlier harvesting 
 could have been. And Nancy, though she had known 
 drought and blight and tempest, stood on the very thresh- 
 old of May.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 Six weeks had passed, and Miss Lancaster was sailing 
 for America, but alone. Cotton and his friend John 
 Cawthorne, who had occupied these weeks in training for 
 ambulance work, would soon go to the front, the former 
 expecting to be relieved at Christmas by Philip Stokes. 
 Erica had entered the hospital with Miss Lancaster and 
 was about to complete a course in surgical nursing that 
 would enable her to be a capable assistant in an hospital. 
 She had expected to persuade Miss Lancaster to accom- 
 pany her into France, but Miss Lancaster had had more 
 than she wanted of Europe and would listen to nothing 
 that hadn't to do with her journey home. 
 
 At three o'clock on the day she left, a large, handsome 
 motor car drove up to the door of the hotel with Cotton 
 at the steering wheel. A professional would have re- 
 marked the skill and ease with which he handled the car. 
 Mrs. Manners was not surprised, as she always expected 
 perfection of him. Miss Lancaster had never ridden as 
 comfortably but she did not suspect how much of the 
 comfort was due to the driving. 
 
 Erica was beautifully dressed and had unusual color. 
 She wore a cream-colored, embroidered linen suit with a 
 loose jacket and embroidered waistcoat. An embroid- 
 ered hat of the same material dropped over her soft hair 
 and her eager little face. She had purchased the costume 
 in Florence with gloves, shoes and sunshade, but Miss 
 Lancaster had never seen her wear it before. 
 
 325
 
 326 FIREWEED 
 
 " I'm sure I ought to be flattered to have you put on 
 your glad rags to go down to that dirty old boat with 
 me," she sniffed. 
 
 " My dear Libby, how many times have I told you that 
 the boat isn't dirty?" rejoined Erica. " It's a clean, de- 
 cent boat. Even young Billings, that belongs to the rival 
 company, admits that." 
 
 " That's not saying that you ought to wear a brand 
 new suit that was frightfully expensive and that will 
 never look the same after it's dry cleaned," persisted Miss 
 Lancaster, who looked sour and sallow and retained much 
 of the peevishness of her convalescence. 
 
 "A nos moutons?" Erica smiled. "Which isn't at 
 all the way Mr. Cotton would say it. But he speaks right 
 good colloquial French for all that. No, Libby, I didn't 
 get into these togs especially to see you off. But I have 
 an engagement after you sail, and I wasn't sure there'd 
 be time to dress." 
 
 " H'm. With Cotton ? " in a low, suspicious voice. 
 
 " Yes, Libby, with Cotton ! " Erica declared mischie- 
 vously and distinctly. But there was too much noise for 
 the driver to hear, for they were now at the dock. 
 
 Cotton escorted them to the boat, attended to the lug- 
 gage, shook hands gravely with Miss Lancaster and 
 wished her a comfortable, pleasant voyage. Then he was 
 off. 
 
 Erica went with Miss Lancaster to the stateroom 
 which she was to share with a young lady who had 
 stayed at the hotel, and whom Erica rather pitied. She 
 perched upon the bed while Miss Lancaster fussed about 
 among her things. 
 
 With her bright color and her shining eyes, in her beau- 
 tiful suit and becoming hat, Erica was a picture. Her pose 
 was not only that of suppressed eagerness but of genuine 
 vitality.
 
 FIREWEED 327 
 
 " Libby, look pleasant please," she begged. " I have 
 something to tell you before Miss Bartlett comes on, but 
 I shall never be able to get it out if you look like that. 
 Let all that business go until you're off. You'll have 
 oceans I should say steamships of time then. Come, 
 we've been together a long time. You've borne a lot I 
 know, but well, we ought to rejoice in one another's 
 happiness just the same." 
 
 Her pleading voice fell low. Her eyes were as soft as 
 if there were tears in them. Most likely there were, and 
 they dimmed her vision, for though Miss Lancaster's 
 grimness did not relax, she went on. 
 
 " Libby, I'm going to tell you now what I promised 
 yesterday to tell you, and why I am wearing these things," 
 she said, her voice becoming almost solemn. " It is be- 
 cause this is my wedding-day, Libby. This is my wed- 
 ding gown." 
 
 " Erica Manners ! " cried Miss Lancaster in utter 
 amazement the moment she could find voice. 
 
 " Yes, Libby, we are going from the dock up to the 
 little English church on the hill near the Blue Sisters and 
 be married, Mr. Cotton and I." 
 
 She was transformed. Her eyes, her whole face shone 
 with a new, strange, lovely light. Though she looked ap- 
 pealingly into Miss Lancaster's face, she seemed hardly 
 to see her. 
 
 " But I can't understand it," protested Miss Lancaster 
 sharply. "I simply can't believe it. It beats me! 
 When I think of that trial " 
 
 " But Libby, please, I don't want to think of it to-day," 
 returned Erica gently. " It's a part of my life, of course, 
 a nightmare that may haunt me as long as I live; but I 
 am going to keep it in the background as far as possible. 
 Honestly, I believe I have learned the lesson it had to 
 teach. But anyhow, I must not think of it to-day."
 
 328 FIREWEED 
 
 She spoke pleadingly. The light had gone from her 
 eyes. The flush on her cheek deepened from the pain. 
 Her lip trembled. As Erica had sloughed her selfishness, 
 she had lost the immunity from slings and arrows that had 
 gone with it. 
 
 Miss Lancaster stretched her long neck and drew a 
 deep sigh. 
 
 " Of course, since you are both to stay over here, it's 
 only the proper and necessary thing to do," she acknowl- 
 edged sourly. 
 
 " Oh, Libby, it isn't that at all ! " cried Erica paling 
 suddenly. " He loves me it's just that and nothing 
 else. I can't understand how it can be myself, but it's 
 true. He has told me so. He didn't understand at all 
 until he went to Rome after the others sailed, and then he 
 missed me. He missed me, he wanted me, me, Libby. 
 Oh, you can't dream what all that means to me coming 
 from Mr. Cotton, the very noblest man in all the world. 
 It makes me so thankful that I'm frightened. I long to 
 be oh, just impossibly good. But even then I wouldn't 
 be anything like good enough for him." 
 
 Rising, she spread out her hands with an impulsive, 
 winged movement. Now, she was indeed transfigured. 
 Another soul, a finer, whiter spirit shone forth from the 
 lineaments of the old Erica. Comparing her with the 
 woman who had crossed the Atlantic in the late spring 
 would have been like contrasting a landscape in a sullen, 
 glowering dusk with the same when flooded with rosy- 
 golden sunset or the white radiance of the moon. 
 
 But Elizabeth Lancaster had not changed, except to 
 harden. She was the same woman who had bartered her 
 independence for money and her self-respect for a seat 
 in the vestibule of the great as she saw them. Able to 
 respond to the former Erica, she was unequal to the de- 
 mands of the new and better nature that was struggling
 
 FIREWEED 329 
 
 towards the light. It was well that they were separating 
 with little likelihood of coming together again. 
 
 The lady who shared the stateroom entered, and the 
 conversation became general. When the warning whistle 
 blew, Erica rose and said farewell to the stranger. She 
 put her arm through Miss Lancaster's and drew her out 
 towards the gangplank. 
 
 " You're sure you have everything you need, Libby ? " 
 
 " If I haven't, it's too late to do anything now," re- 
 turned Miss Lancaster, who seemed to have no medium of 
 intercourse between servile flattery and a bluntness that 
 bordered on rudeness. 
 
 " Do you want me to tell people the truth ? " she de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course, Libby. Mr. Cotton asks that first 
 you will deliver this letter to Nancy. After that, tell any 
 one who asks." 
 
 " I don't know what Mrs. Holbrook will say, I'm sure." 
 
 Erica smiled wanly. " Nor I," she admitted. And she 
 paled sensitively. 
 
 " Of course people will talk. But when we get home 
 well, I shall have a lot to live down. I shall have a 
 struggle, but I shall have Mr. Cotton by my side please 
 God."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 ERICA found Caleb Cotton waiting with eager eyes at 
 the foot of the gangplank, his old Panama hat tucked un- 
 der his arm. He took her hand as if she had long been 
 absent, looked deep into her eyes with his own bluer than 
 ever, and kissed her for the first time. To her there was 
 something knightly and chivalrous and yet homely in his 
 actions; and he spoke her name quite without hesitation, 
 though with accents that were his alone. 
 
 " Erica, my Erica," he said softly, " you look as if you 
 had been talking with the angels. How is that ? " 
 
 " I was talking with God," she said gently. " I had 
 been telling Libby all about it, you know, dear, and I said 
 that whatever lay before me, you were by my side to 
 help me. And suddenly it all came over me again, your 
 goodness and my unworthiness, and I added words I 
 had never used before, ' Please God.' And all the way 
 till I got to you, I was saying it as a prayer : ' Please God, 
 please God, please God.' " 
 
 " God bless you, Erica love," he said. " And now shall 
 we go ? " 
 
 " We must wait until the boat sails, dear. Libby will 
 expect it. Look, there she is now." 
 
 A little delay; a little ineffectual attempt at parleying; 
 then the vessel swept her moorings and steamed out into 
 the bay. 
 
 Erica waved her pocket handkerchief until it disap- 
 peared. Then the two turned away, walking later from 
 
 33>
 
 FIREWEED 331 
 
 the hotel to the little church above, where the simple cere- 
 mony took place just at sunset. 
 
 At home in America, the fireweed, whose romantic, rose- 
 amethyst blossoms, appearing suddenly after midsummer 
 and the first harvest, had covered the charred ruins of 
 desolate homesteads and glowed above the blackened 
 prairies, a lovely symbol of renascence, now added fur- 
 ther significance to that symbol as its tall stalks held high 
 their fleecy burden of silvery down which the winds wouli 
 carry far and wide to gladden another arid yet another 
 summer.
 
 
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