A TALE OF THE GRAND CANON KATHARIJNTE. SHARP /,<=" JOCELYN WEST A Tale of THE GRAND CANON . OP CALIF. LIBBARY, LOS ANGELES Jocelyn West A Tale of The Grand Canon By KATHARINE SHARP NEW YORK AND LONDON THE GOODHUE COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1912, by THE GOODHUE COMPANY All Bights Reserved TO HELEN 2132698 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. JOCELYN WEST 9 II. SENORA MADERO 27 III. THE BONDAGE OF THE LAW 43 IV. THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION 51 V. A DAY WITH THE SPANIARDS 61 VI. THE TRIUMPH OF THE PURITANS . . . . 71 VII. JOCELYN IN QUEST OF LIBERTY .... 84 VIII. WHOM GOD HATH JOINED 94 IX. THE FINISHED CHAPTER 104 X. THE SPELL OF THE CANON in XI. JOCELYN'S CAVE 131 XII. SUNSET AND EVENING STAR 148 XIII. NATURA AND PRIMITIVO 156 XIV. ASPERA AND INTELLECTO 165 XV. PRESCOTT'S VIGIL 174 XVI. THE DAWN . ... 182 [7] JOCELYN WEST CHAPTER I JOCELYN WEST "As you seem to enjoy my dancing, perhaps you would like to be shown how high I can kick." The suggestion was made with the appearance of utter naivete, and with a note of interrogation. The response was a burst of applause, and a chorus of "Bravos" from every part of the draw- ing-room. Some of the women gasped a little, but even they for the most part clapped their hands in seeming approval. "Ah, you wish to be shown? Then will some gentleman kindly hold a cap." At least a dozen gentlemen responded with alacrity. "One will do. Yours, if you please," smiled the dancer, indicating the tallest of the expectant gallants. [91 JOCELYN WEST "Hold it high. Oh, much higher. As high as you can reach." The smiling young woman poised gracefully, fixed her luminous gray eyes on the cap, and swung her body about as if to gain impetus. She seemed to hesitate a moment, brought her right foot back as if on the verge of darting it high in the air; then she paused as if in doubt, stepped back, viewed the cap critically from a new angle, and, relaxing every muscle, shrugged her shoulders. "Do you really wish me to show you?" she asked quizzically, drawling the words in a deli- cious mezzo voice. "Well, I said I would show you, and I will." She leaned forward, extended her right hand slowly at about the level of her waist, and re- garded it critically. "I suppose I could kick about that high," she drawled. Then she threw her head back, displaying a splendid set of teeth; and burst into a laugh, in which the entire audience joined her. The holder of the cap muttered something probably not expressive of pleasure. But his words were lost in the storm of applause, and the [10] JOCELYN WEST cries of "Bravo," "Another dance," with which the room resounded. "Please, Miss West, please; dance just once more," pleaded the Master of Ceremonies, com- ing close beside her. "If they wish it, of course." The reply was made nonchalantly. The girl's eyes swept the audience casually. Her manner was reserved, with a touch of hauteur. Despite the unconventional character of her share in the entertainment, she herself seemed, when in re- pose, to represent a type of high-bred convention- ality. She was gowned modishly but simply, and there was nothing in the remotest degree theatrical about her appearance. Indeed, there seemed a distinct incongruity in her presence as a participant even in this amateur performance in behalf of invalid seamen. And as to the dare-devil jest she had just per- petrated, that seemed utterly out of keeping with her personality. Possibly she herself regretted it almost before it was performed, for an added tint of crimson appeared now to rise to cheeks already flushed from the exertion of the dance; and the girlish face took on an aspect of utter seriousness. In point of fact, the young woman had not [11] JOCELYN WEST considered the general audience at all in her act of bravado. She had been moved by a sudden im- pulse to call out something that a certain auditor might hear; and, on the instant, she could think of nothing to say until the bizarre and impish proposal of the kick flashed into her mind. Her sole thought had been of the possible effect of her performance on this one auditor. For reasons of her own, she had wished to let him hear her voice. The auditor in question was a tall, well-built man, with a grave, rather stern face, who had entered the room a few moments before, and who, pausing by the door, now regarded the dancer with fixed attention. The face and figure of the man had caught the eye of the young woman the instant he entered the room; and she regarded him now over the heads of the audience, as she poised her body for the dance. She kept her glance riveted on the grave, ascetic-seeming face as she began swaying slowly, this way and that, in the sinuous and allur- ing contortions of the Spanish Tarantella. Nor did she look elsewhere till she had assured herself that the deep-set eyes of the man glowed with a responsive light, and that he was regarding her [12] JOCELYN WEST with hypnotic intentness. After that, as she went on with the dance, her eyes sought every part of the room except that where the tall man stood; every face but his. But his eyes sought no goal save the face of the dancer. If you chanced to see Carmencita dance in the old days, you know what the Spanish Taran- tella is like. Jocelyn West for so the dancer was named on the program did not dance it, perhaps, with quite the aplomb of that mistress of the art, but she gave a very colorable imitation of her method, and added a witchery of move- ment, gesture, and facial expression that were all her own. Every movement was graceful, rhyth- mic, compelling. The lithe, gracile body surged back and forth with a sinuous motion which had no suspicion of unmaidenly suggestiveness, yet which stirre'd the blood of every man in the audience, and excited a pang of jealousy in the heart of every woman. Then of a sudden the dancer paused, glided swiftly forward with a quick and emphatic stamp of her foot that sent an electric thrill through the audience; darted back again, swaying as if about to fall, and disappeared behind a large screen. [13] JOCELYN WEST Again the room was in a turmoil of applause. But the dancer neither heard nor heeded it. Through a crevice in the screen, she regarded only one face, one figure. Herself unseen, she scru- tinized the face of the big man by the door, and noted his every expression with earnest attention. The man was standing exactly as he had stood when she first saw him. He had seemingly not moved a muscle. Even his face had not relaxed from its expression of thoughtful gravity. He had only turned his eyes slightly toward the screen behind which the dancer had vanished, and from the vantage ground of which she now scrutinized him. He alone of all the assembly did not applaud. Yet the girl had danced to him, for him, alone. Had her shaft missed its mark? Instinct told her that it had not, and her stolen glance through the crevice in the screen con- firmed her instinct. The man's fixed glance, the very pose of his head, the motionlessness of his poise, were all evidence that his heart gave her silent applause. She felt it, knew it, and was content. A few moments later, as the company was dis- persing to various parts of the ship for the scene [14] JOCELYN WEST of the episode was the concert-room of the Mauretania the tall man made his way toward the improvised stage by the piano, where the dancer was the center of a congratulatory group of men and women. He touched the arm of the Master of Ceremonies. "Introduce me to Miss West, old man." "Oh, confound you, Knight. Please keep away," laughed the other in an undertone. "What chance shall I have if you enter the field? However, I suppose I may as well submit." They came forward together. "Miss West, let me present my old college friend, Mr. Prescott Knight." The girl greeted him casually, and for a few minutes the conversation was general. But pres- ently someone suggested that a stroll on the deck would be in order. As they filed out, Knight was at Miss West's side. The two were presently separated from the others, and standing by the rail, looking off across the water. Nothing beyond the most banal conventional- ities had been exchanged between them; but now she looked up at him piquantly, and they both laughed with seeming understanding. [15] JOCELYN WEST "I owe you a profound apology, Mr. Knight," she said, becoming suddenly grave. "It was really very shocking for me to have played such a prank; but what is one to do to pass the time on shipboard?" The "prank" of which the girl spoke had no connection with the episode of the dance. It referred to an incident of the afternoon, when Knight had spoken to the young woman as they chanced to stand side by side, watching a game of shuffleboard. Knight had made a casual re- mark, to which the girl had responded by smiling up at him hi the most naive and winning way, and saying, in a quaint, broken dialect: "I no es-speak Ingleesh, Senor." The words, manner, and intonation had fas- cinated Knight, and he had at once set himself the task of teaching the young woman some English words and phrases. She had proved the most charming of pupils, with all the innocent coquetry and naivete of a Spanish girl who had not mingled with the world. She had told him the Spanish equivalent of the words in turn, and between his smattering of Spanish, her appar- ently slight knowledge of English, and a liberal use of French, they had managed to make them- [16] JOCELYN WEST selves understood fairly well. So at least he had supposed. He had been informed that her name was Senora Madero, that her husband was in Mexico; that she expected to remain for some time in New York, before going on to the West. Judge, then, of the man's astonishment when he had strolled, quite by accident, into the con- cert-room of the ship, searching for the senora; and had found her there, calling out in perfect English without a trace of accent. It had instantly been made obvious to Knight that the girl had been amusing herself by playing a part in the mock English lesson of the afternoon. But, rather strangely, he did not feel piqued by the discovery, though he was not a man with whom people often took liberties. On the con- trary, he felt a sense of relief, of positive pleasure, at thus learning that the girl was not Spanish after all, but quite obviously an American. A glance at the concert -program had told him that her name was Jocelyn West, and he had experienced a distinct sense of satisfaction on discovering that the prefix was not Senora, but Miss. So now, as he looked down at her as they stood 2 [17] JOCELYN WEST by the rail together, he felt neither embarrass- ment nor chagrin. He was conscious only that she was very charming, and that her voice, as she spoke naturally, had the same resonant quality that it had shown when she had spoken the make- believe Spanish-English of the afternoon. "I am evidently a most extraordinary teacher," he said, smiling. "Or perhaps you had a very apt pupil." "That I do not doubt. Suppose we have an- other lesson. I will tell you the name of that bright object up there in the sky." "Ah, la lima!" "Doubtless. In English we call it the moon. Let us go up on the upper deck, where we can see it better." On the upper deck the two were presently en- sconced in steamer-chairs in a snug corner. "Now, as reparation for the joke you played on me, you must tell me all about yourself." "It is a short story, and of no possible inter- est," she replied evasively. "But your story must be full of incident. Where have you been this trip? I think I can guess. You have been to Thibet in quest of the Oms poll Marco Polo's sheep." [18] He regarded her curiously. "T&uchc" he said. "How did you do it?" The girl laughed. She had really gained her information from the captain, who chanced to be familiar with Knight's exploits. She sat at the captain's right. That genial person had amiably responded to her interrogations. She now chose, however, to make the matter more mysterious, so in reply to Knight's query she glanced up archly, and said with a knowing air: "Oh, I have a woman's knack of guessing secrets." "Have you also the unwomanly knack of keeping them?" "Try me." "Well, I will. It isn't such a dreadful secret, to be sure, but at least it is something no one has been told, and " She checked him with a gesture. "No, please don't tell it," she said earnestly. "I have no right to hear your secrets. You know things have a way of leaking out, and you might think that I betrayed your confidence." "That is my lookout. I want to tell you this secret. Besides, it concerns you, and you are en- [19] JOCELYN WEST titled to have it. It is this: I have decided that you are very much worth while, and that we are destined to become great friends." "Oh," she gasped, taken quite by surprise. "Is that what you call a secret? Well, as it is a secret, you must let no one find it out. But I will tell you quite frankly that I hope your prediction about our friendship may prove true." "It is a trite suggestion, but suppose we shake hands on it." She put out her hand and took his, as one man might clasp the hand of another. He noted that her hand was soft and warm, yet with sinewy strength beyond what its suppleness might suggest. He held it for an instant only, resisting an impulse to raise it to his lips. "That being settled," he said, "tell me how you learned Spanish including the dance!" "Not to-night, please. We came up to talk about the moon, you remember, not about me. The moon is much more worth while. See how she soars among the clouds. What is it Shelley calls her? 'That orbed maiden with white light laden.'" "Suppose we take the moon for granted," he [20] JOCELYN WEST said, laughing. " I see that you know all about it. And since you refuse to talk about yourself, let us trade biographies. That's fair, isn't it?" "Then you begin." "Very well. I am a New Yorker, age thirty- four; Harvard '96. I have lived on a ranch in the West; have hunted big game almost every- where, including the Bad Lands of the North, and in the heart of Africa; play polo and hand- ball, and my pet recreation is boxing." "I knew it," she said with enthusiasm. "I knew you were an athlete from the way you moved about. Oh, I should love to see you in action." "Some day you shall have that great priv- ilege," he laughed. "Meantime, you have the platform." She looked at him amusedly. "But supposing I do not wish to declaim?" "A bargain is a bargain." "I made no bargain. However, I am quite willing to take you into my confidence. I was born in California. I am twenty-two years old. I was educated hi a boarding-school. I spent two years or so on a ranch with my brother in Mexico, where I learned Spanish. I can shoot a [21] little. I have killed antelope, deer, and one bear. And I can ride a horse." "Splendid," he cried. "I told you we should be friends. We will begin by riding together at Meadow Brook, after we get home. Meantime, I am anxious to hear what led you to tell me you were Sefiora Madero. Why Senora?" "Perhaps it is true." "But the concert program tells me better." "Perhaps I thought it impertinent of you to speak to me without an introduction." "It was. But you didn't seem to resent the impertinence." "Oh! I liked it. I only resented the fact that you had waited till about the last day of the voyage. For I saw you when you came on the boat, and wanted to get acquainted with you at once. You were such a big, robust specimen that you interested me." "The deuce I did. Then you had a queer way of showing it; for you fled every time I came within speaking distance, or else buried your face in a book. Not knowing that we had mutual acquaintances on board, I have devoted this en- tire trip to the effort to corner you where I could get some colorable pretext for speaking to you, [22] JOCELYN WEST and I never got within a mile of the mark until this afternoon." The girl laughed. "You must imagine things," she said. "You don't look like a person who would stand on cere- mony long if you wanted to speak to anyone. I don't believe you'd hesitate to walk up to the King of England and slap him on the shoulder. You'd frighten the poor chap, though, if you did, you are such a huge person. By the way, how tall are you? And what is your weight?" "Not to be diverted so easily, Lady Sherlock," he laughed. "I stand six feet in my stockings, and classify as a heavy-weight, if you wish to know. But the point at issue is, why did you tell me you were Senora Madero Senora anybody?" "How does one account for the whim of a moment and on shipboard, at that? I saw a chance to have a little diversion. Why should you complain? Didn't we have an interesting lesson? " "A fascinating lesson. But what puzzles me is that I find the name of Senora Madero on the passenger list. You are not she, that is obvious enough; but who is she, and why did you take her name?" [231 JOCELYN WEST "Haven't you noticed that I have a traveling companion? And could you not see that she is Spanish? Anyone can see that. What is more natural than that I should assume her name when I wished to have a little flirtation with a strange gentleman? It was really a good joke, was it not?" Her teeth showed white in the moonlight, her eyes sparkled, and she laughed in the merriest, most infectious vein. "But mind you," she continued, after a mo- ment, becoming suddenly serious, "I shall be obliged to answer for what I have done. The Senora has Spanish notions, and she will take me to task most severely, I assure you. " It is bad enough that I talked with you this afternoon. But the episode of the cap at the concert was worse. And if she learns that I have sat up here alone with you this evening, she will be scandalized." Again she laughed, but now there was less of merriment in her tones. The recital had been made with child-like sim- plicity and frankness. As Knight regarded the girl, her face seemed to belie the twenty-two years to which she had laid claim. In the half- [24] JOCELYN WEST light of the moon, she seemed rather a girl of seventeen; a roguish school-girl, fond of a frolic, but shielded by the mantle of her unsophis- ticated innocence. "The Senora can't get used to American ways, then?" he said presently. "They horrify her. And that reminds me, she will be organizing a search for me if I do not put in an appearance. Let us go down." She sprang to her feet before he could offer to help her. He mentally likened her quick, agile movement to the action of a deer. He regarded her lithe, active figure with the eye of a connoisseur, as she glided, rather than walked, before him. "She's a thoroughbred," was his mental com- ment. But indeed the girl's refinement and dis- tinction of manner were patent to the least ob- servant. It was the very sureness of her social poise that made it possible for her, on occasion, to depart from the conventionalities, as she had done in her first interview with Knight, and in the episode of the dance. At the elevator door she turned and put out her hand with the quick, impulsive movement that he had found so fascinating. [25] JOCELYN WEST "Good-night. I hope I shall see you again before the boat lands." "Good-night, Senora" with bantering em- phasis on the last word. "I will look for you on deck after breakfast." Half an hour later, as Prescott Knight was retiring, he viewed his face in the mirror, and paused to regard himself rather curiously. "Pres- cott," he said presently, "you are a large and healthy person, and not without certain glimmer- ings of intelligence. But I see symptoms that tell me you are about to make a fool of yourself over a little morsel of a girl with a lithe and graceful figure, and a pair of remarkable gray eyes." Meantime, could he have known it, the "little morsel of a girl" had thrown herself on the bed in the cabin, the lithe figure convulsed with sobs, and the gray eyes dimmed with tears. [261 CHAPTER II SENORA MADERO Prescott Knight breakfasted early next morn- ing, and began strolling about the deck. He felt rather confident that his companion of the eve- ning before would appear at a reasonable hour. He had come to have a feeling of comradeship with the girl in the course of the short acquaint- ance, and he entertained no doubt that she would meet him half-way in making the most of the opportunities offered by this last day of the voyage. He frankly admitted to himself that he was impatient to see her. He tried to pass the time by watching the gulls, even attempting to count them; but he found himself constantly turning his eyes toward the cabin door, and scrutinizing each person that came along the deck. But the object of his interest did not appear. Miss West had apparently overslept, or, for some other reason, chose not to come on deck. Hour [27] JOCELYN WEST after hour passed, and still Knight paced the deck by himself, his impatience giving place pres- ently to surprise, and even to solicitude. He was a man particularly prone to analyze his own propensities with entire candor. The feelings that he now found himself experiencing came in the nature of a self-revelation. At thirty-four a man who has seen much of the world, and mingled freely with the men and women of various nations, does not often find himself suddenly interested to the point of absorption in a chance traveling acquaintance. One week earlier, Knight would have repudiated the notion that he could by any chance be caught hi the net of any personality whatsoever. Yet from the moment he had first set his eyes on the young woman, whose coming he now awaited so impatiently, he had felt a strange wish to know her, and the two short conversations he had with her had raised the inclination for her companionship to a compelling desire. Knight was a student of books as well as of men; a practical and successful man of affairs; a thoroughgoing rationalist, yet withal an idealist. He was an egoist of the tolerant type, disposed to regret what seemed to him the under-development [28] SENORA MADERO of the chief mass of his fellow mortals; yet in- dulgent toward their foibles. He called himself a materialist, yet he was at heart a sentimentalist. But even his sentiment was analytical, and as he strolled the deck this morning, he asked himself whether it did not seem probable that the romance of his life had just begun. In any event, he felt an exaltation of mood that he had not for years experienced. And the cause of this exhilaration was, beyond question, the recollection of the face, figure, and personality of the little gray-eyed girl, who now, to his very great regret, was absenting herself from his view. As frequently happened, his emotionalism tended to take a lyrical form, but the exact na- ture of its expression was different from what might have been expected. It was characteristic, however, of the unusual temperament of the man himself. He was a lover of Nature in her every form; in particular, of wild creatures of every type. And now as he stood watching the gulls, he found himself formulating in metrical periods the thoughts they inspired. As giving an insight into the character of the man, it is, perhaps, worth while to transcribe the [29] JOCELYN WEST verses here, though the writer himself would have been the last to seek for them such publicity. SEA-GULLS "They float and soar on deftly balanced wings: Their eyes search eagerly the foaming tides That flow in crested billows from the sides Of the great ship. They seek such offerings As from its maw the ocean-monster flings. Following a craft that ever onward glides, They ask not whence it comes nor where abides They only care that store of food it brings. "On every side the purple billows dance They heed them not. In plumes of crested spray The myriad diamonds of the rainbow glance, By them unseen. Fleecy and gray Float clouds of witching forms in azure skies For such mysterious things they have no eyes. "Move we thus blindly o'er the sea of life, O voyagers that watch with dubious eyes The sea-gull's flight? Shunning the good that lies Ever about us where turmoil is rife, 'Midst a mad vortex of discordant strife Unmeaning as the sea-gull's raucous cries Must we pursue our doubtful enterprise Unfeeling warring ever to the knife? [30] SENORA MADERO " Challenge thy soul with questionings such as these, O voyager that scorns the sea-gull's greed. Thou mayst not pierce the barriers fate decreed Must ever shroud the eternal mysteries; But thou canst see the rainbow-tinted skies; Thou canst look upward, and aspire to rise." When the verses were completed, the writer thrust them into his pocket and probably never thought of them again. As time wore on, he at- tempted further to divert his thoughts by read- ing a book; but the experiment proved futile. The printed page could not hold his attention; he had thoughts for a certain young woman, and for no other subject. For a time he half expected a message from the young woman herself, explaining her absence. But he reflected presently that she had not said she would meet him on the deck. He recalled her exact words in parting, and was obliged to admit that they implied nothing beyond an almost formal and altogether con- ventional expression of the hope that they might meet again before the voyage ended. The sug- gestion that they meet on the deck after breakfast had come from him; and, as he now recalled, had. met with no response from his companion. [31] JOCELYN WEST Yet, on the other hand, her frank friendliness had suggested a willingness to see him; she had warmly seconded his prediction that they should be good friends. But had she not evaded him throughout the voyage until yesterday? Of that there could be no doubt. Apparently, then, she had repented of her momentary complaisance, and, for some reason best known to herself, had reverted to her pre- vious attitude of mind. The conviction that such was the case grew upon him as the day lengthened, and it seemed a certainty when finally evening came without his having had a glimpse of the only person on the ship who in the least interested him. The day had been passed very differently from what he had anticipated, and Knight confessed to himself a disappointment that seemed quite out of proportion to its cause, considering that he had, within twenty-four hours, spoken for the first time to a girl who now filled his thoughts, and had talked with her for not more than a couple of hours. But he was, as has been said, a man who had culti- vated the rather unusual habit of being frankly honest with himself; and he did not now at- [32] tempt to conceal from himself, or explain away, his disappointment. The matter was made the more exasperating by the fact that he could think of no reasonable explanation of the girl's non-appearance. She had taken obvious pleasure in his society last night; had shaken hands with him cordially at parting. Why, then, had she absented herself from the deck to-day? Knight was still puzzling over the matter as he walked rather petulantly about the deck after dinner; when of a sudden, to his surprise and delight, the object of his thoughts appeared at the doorway. On seeing him, the girl came forward with a smile, her hand extended. "I hoped I should find you here," she said. "They are to land us early in the morning, I am told, and, of course, we shall all be busy then; and I did not wish to leave without saying good- bye to you." Knight was taken aback at the nature of the greeting. He could not but feel that Miss West had purposely kept away from him all day; yet he had no right to assume this. There was noth- ing but friendliness in her tone now; and, after all, there had been no agreement if there had 3 [33] JOCELYN WEST been a tacit understanding that they were to have spent the day together. Nevertheless, he could not refrain from giving expression to his disappointment. "I have been looking for you, and hoping to see you, all day long. We had begun to get ac- quainted last evening. I had hoped to make much progress to-day." "Oh! It was kind of you to think of me." She looked full into his eyes as she spoke, and her smile had no trace of coquetry. "I thought of you, too, and wished more than once that I was out on deck; but I did not sleep well last night, and it seemed best for me to stay in my cabin. I have only just come out." "Then we must make the most of this evening. Shall we go up on the upper deck again?" "I am afraid I must not. I promised the Senora that I would return immediately, and try to get a good night's rest. She is worried about me, though there is no reason to be. But I think she is right about it being well for me to get a good rest. So I will say good-night, and good- bye, in case we don't see each other as we get off the boat to-morrow. There is always such a rush [34] SENORA MADERO that one never has time to see anyone, I am told. You see, this is my first trip abroad." She put out her hand, smiling in a way that made her seem altogether adorable. "Good- night," she said again. Knight took the proffered hand; but instead of touching it formally and releasing it, he gripped it firmly, and held it while he scrutinized the win- some face that was upturned to him. He drew himself to his full height, towering above the girl. For a moment he did not speak. Then he said slowly: "Miss Jocelyn West, we pledged each other to be good friends last night. Do you think it a friendly way of doing, to evade me to-day, and to attempt to leave me with this formal greeting now? I told you last night that I felt sure you were very much worth while. I am doubly convinced of it now; and I can't bear the thought of losing you. We have known each other but a few hours; yet I feel that our talk of last night put us on a foot- ing that makes it possible for me to ask, without impertinence, that you will tell me what has happened since yesterday to make you feel that my friendship is not worth having." "Oh, Mr. Knight," she faltered. "Please do [35] JOCELYN WEST not think that I should not prize your friendship. I should prize it very much indeed. And nothing has happened to-day to change my feeling in any way toward you." "Yet you have purposely avoided me." "If I have, it was because it seemed best, and not for any reason that concerns you directly. "It must concern me directly, since it results in keeping you away from me. Come, Miss Jocelyn; let us go on the upper deck where we were last night, and you shall tell me about it." He drew the girl's hand through his arm as he spoke, and turned with her toward the gangway. She felt the overmastering force of his personal- ity, and she went with him without comment or protest. Nor did he speak again till he had found a chair for his companion, wrapped a rug about her, and seated himself beside her. They were in the same corner where they had been the night before, in the lea of one of the great funnels. "There," he said ; "are you quite comfortable? " "Perfectly so. Thank you." She paused a moment, and he saw that her face was very grave. "I am glad to be here," she continued, "though I felt that I ought not to come. Yes, I am very glad." [36] SENORA MADERO She smiled up at him now, and put out her hand impulsively. " Thank you for bringing me here, my friend." He took her hand with full understanding; and in the moment that he held it, they both felt that the bond of their friendship had been cemented. "Miss Jocelyn," he began "I may call you that, may I not?" She smiled assent. "Tell me," he continued, "why did you evade me to-day; why did you intend to leave me with a formal 'Good-bye'?" "Some time I will tell you. Please do not ask it just now. Let it suffice that I did it because I thought it best; not because I wished to. Isn't that enough for the moment?" " It is enough to know that you did not wish to elude me." He was leaning close above her as he spoke, and there was a look of tenderness in his eyes that could not be mistaken. "Jocelyn," he said softly, "it is ridiculous, but I feel as if we had known each other for years instead of hours. All day I have thought of nothing but your coming; and when you finally came to-night, and were going away again, I [37] JOCELYN WEST could not bear it. Little as I know about the details of your life, I feel that I know you the real you, your innermost self as well as if I had watched you from childhood. And some- how I feel that you know me in the same way. "I said last night that I felt we were destined to be friends. I feel now, Jocelyn, that we are destined to be more than friends. I feel that I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, five days ago; and I know that time will not, cannot, change my feeling. I am going to make you love me, and when you feel that you know me well enough, I shall ask you to marry me." If Knight had not been oblivious to all but his own emotions, he would have been aware that the face of his companion blanched. "Oh, please, please," she gasped. "I was afraid you were going to say that. I couldn't stop you, for I loved to hear the words. But I must tell you now, at once, what I should have told you in the beginning. I cannot marry any- one, because because I am married already. Oh, Mr. Knight, don't you remember that I told you I am Senora Madero? It is true. You took it for granted that I was Jocelyn West, because you saw that name on the program. When you [38] SENORA MADERO took it for granted, I had not the courage to un- deceive you, because it was very sweet to me to think, even for a few hours, what might have been. But then I saw that it must not go on. That was why I kept away to-day. I had no right to see you. I have no right to be here now. I am not the young girl I seem. I am a married woman." Knight regarded his companion with con- sternation. " Married ! " he said bitterly. "Married ! Good God; it can't be true. Why were you on the program as Miss Jocelyn West if you are married?" "That was my maiden name. I used it on the concert program to hide my identity, as one uses a nom de plume. But I did not tell you that was my name. I told you at the outset that I was Sefiora Madero. I never denied it after- ward. I told you the exact truth about myself, even to the fact of my husband being a Spaniard and living in Mexico." "But last night you let me think you were Miss Jocelyn West." "You took it for granted, and I did let you go on thinking so, because, at the moment, there seemed no harm in it; and it was very pleasant to [39] JOCELYN WEST feel myself a girl again, and to sit there in the moonlight and talk with a man who did not know one was an old married woman. But, after a little, I began to see that you might become fond of me, and that I might become fond of you; and after I went to my stateroom I felt very wicked and miserable, and I well I'm afraid I was very foolish. That was why I spent a bad night, and why I did not come out on the deck to-day." Knight rose and walked back and forth for sev- eral minutes without speaking. His head was awhirl. But he strove to keep his bearings; to clear the mad jumble of his thoughts. At last he paused, and as he leaned over the girl, he thought he caught the glitter of tears in her eyes. "Do you love your husband?" he asked suddenly. "Do I love him? Oh, no, no. I think I hate him. I could not tell you that yesterday, of course. But now I must make you understand. I have not seen my husband for two years. I do not expect ever to see him again. I was only seventeen when I married a foolish girl's run- away match, to get away from an unhappy home. I was caught by the glamour of the Spanish gal- [40] SENORA MADERO lant manner, and the romanticism of ranch life. Senor Madero has a big ranch in Mexico. But I soon learned my mistake; and after leading a cat-and-dog life for three years, I gave it up, and came away. My husband had squandered a good deal of my property, and a good deal more was tied up in the ranch; but I had enough beside to support me comfortably, and I came to New York and have lived there, except while traveling, the past two years. "You remember, perhaps, that I told you I was on a ranch with my brother in Mexico. That was true; my brother was a partner there. But he could go away when he chose; while I was bound for life, legally, even though I should go away in person as I finally was forced to do." "But why for life, Jocelyn? We will secure your freedom, and then you shall begin life over again as my wife." "It is impossible. My husband is a Catholic. He received a special dispensation in order to marry me; the Church consenting, I believe, chiefly with the hope of getting my property. Neither Senor Madero nor his clerical advisers will tolerate the thought of a divorce. I begged for that before I came away; and I have written 41] JOCELYN WEST about it again and again. In fact, that is the only subject of communication between us. But it is quite useless. Sefior Madero declares he will fight against a divorce with his last dollar, and the whole force of the Church is back of him. He is very influential in his country. The case is utterly hopeless. I am bound for life." They were both silent for a few moments; then she looked up at him appealingly. "Do you think it will be right for us still to be friends, now that you know everything? " For reply, he took her hand in his very tenderly, and raised it to his lips. . 142"] CHAPTER III THE BONDAGE OF THE LAW The Mauretania came to her dock early next morning. On the afternoon of the same day, Prescott Knight paid a visit to his lawyer. That gentleman expressed a mild surprise at the nature of the questions his client propounded. "What the deuce should you care about divorce laws?" he said. "Marriage laws should be more in the line of a bachelor's interests." "Perhaps the two are not unrelated." "Ah, I see. Well, precisely what is your bias? State your hypothetical case." "I don't mind telling you that the case is more than hypothetical. It is actual and tangible. It concerns a young American woman who was mar- ried at seventeen to a Spaniard. The marriage took place in California, and the couple went to live in Mexico. They were ill-mated, and after a few months the girl left her husband, came to New York, and has never returned. She was [43] JOCELYN WEST made miserable at the ranch by the utterly dif- ferent views held by herself and her husband re- garding pretty nearly every subject, but so far as I can learn there was no open quarrel at any time, even when the girl came away." "Yes, yes; 'incompatibility of temperament' is the way it is usually phrased. That will do well enough. Desertion and non-support can be in- cluded, presumably, if necessary. There ought not to be any very great difficulty about that. The wife is to be allowed to be the complainant, I suppose? That is the more usual way. The husband consents, of course?" "Unfortunately not. That is precisely the trouble. Instead of consenting, he bitterly op- poses the idea of a separation of any kind. More- over, there is a religious complication. The hus- band is a Catholic, and the Church will back him up in strenuous opposition to a divorce." "Humph. That makes a difference, of course. Where there is a mutual desire or willingness to have a separation, it can usually be arranged, if financial matters are not a complication; but where one party opposes the separation, there may be difficulty." "So I feared. But are the difficulties [44] THE BONDAGE OF THE LAW insurmountable? That is what I wish to know." The lawyer regarded his client smilingly for a few moments before he spoke. "Do you wish them to be insurmountable?" he asked. "On the contrary, I very much wish them to be overcome." "The wife herself is equally anxious?" "She has used every endeavor for the past year or more to secure her husband's consent; but without avail." "I think I see the point. I will take it under advisement. Of course we do not specialize in this line, but I have a friend that does. Come hi Monday, and I will report. Meantime, let me make a note of the data." Knight gave the desired information in detail, withholding only the names of the parties in- volved. His interview had not added much to his knowledge, but he felt that he was at least in the line of good legal advice. When he visited the office Monday, he found a lengthy document there, giving the opinion of the expert. In the midst of much verbiage, this document embodied the idea that the wife in [45] JOCELYN WEST question would, under all the circumstances, find it very difficult to secure a decree. There was no evidence that she was an injured party. Cruelty was not charged, nor desertion, nor non- support; nor was the husband accused of mis- conduct that would provide the usual statutory grounds. The religious complication was also dwelt upon. The expert considered this a very important item. The Catholic Church forbids divorce, regarding marriage as a divine covenant; and while the law takes no ostensible cognizance of the relig- ious views of anyone, yet practically the opposi- tion of the Church would make itself felt. Knight read the document through, mentally sifting out its pertinent portions. "As far as I can make out," he said, "there is little hope that the wife will be able to secure a divorce." " Unless the husband can be induced to con- sent, apparently not." "In other words, the marriage vow makes a woman a slave, not subject to emancipation ex- cept with the full consent of her master." "Ah, but it binds the husband equally." "In theory, perhaps. But in any event, the (46] THE BONDAGE OF THE LAW young woman in question is bound for life, ac- cording to this interpretation of the law, unless her husband will agree to release her. If he agrees, she can be released. That puts her entire future in his hands. She cannot live with him; yet she must remain legally his wife, with all the restrictions that this implies. It appears to me that we are in need of some new emancipa- tion-from-slavery laws." "Ah, but remember, my dear Mr. Knight, that the laws must be framed to meet the needs of the average citizen. In individual cases, an injus- tice may be done by the operation of a law that in general application is perfectly just. We must take the conditions of society as we find them. The entire question of the marriage relation is based on the fact that the family is the foundation- stone of civilization, and that the woman is fundamentally not a bread-winner but a child- bearer. As such, the woman must be protected. So the law provides that abuse, non-support, abandonment, shall constitute grounds for a separation. "All this is in the interest chiefly of the woman; in fact, the entire system of marriage laws has been developed in her interest. If legislation had [47] JOCELYN WEST considered, primarily or chiefly, man's side of the proposition, there would be no marriage laws at all." "I can see a good deal of force in that view of the case. But whatever the philosophy of the law, the net result is, that a woman who mar- ries even if she took the step while she was still at an age at which men are held to be minors has no conceivable way of escaping from her husband as long as she lives, unless the man vol- untarily decides to give her up." "Well, that is a rather unusual way of stating the case; but it perhaps fairly represents the facts or, at least, one aspect of the facts." "Then it appears to me that it is high time our laws were modified. It appears that any and every married woman who is unhappily mated is virtually a slave." "Being a bachelor, you naturally think of the woman's side of it. If you were, like myself, a married man, you might reflect that the husband is also subjected to his full share of bondage. Now, between ourselves, I'll admit that I have often thought of the marriage relation as a species of slavery; but I always pictured myself as the slave. [48] THE BONDAGE OF THE LAW " Why, I may not, for example, go out for lunch with a female client without infringing the pro- prieties. If the client chanced to be good-looking, I should most certainly involve myself in domestic difficulties were I to show her any attentions out- side the office. "That, if you please, is slavery. I endure that slavery. But I must exact something in return. What manner of compact should I have made were it legally permissible for a man's wife to mention casually to her husband some night when he comes home from his day's work, that she has seen some other fellow she thought she would like better, but that she will magnani- mously postpone her going until he can engage a housekeeper to look after the children?" As he propounded this poser, the lawyer smiled benevolently, and rubbed his hands together in the manner characteristic of the arguer who feels that he has made a good point. "It looks a bit different when you regard it from that standpoint, doesn't it? A good deal depends on whose ox is gored, eh?" "Most things do look differently from different points of view; otherwise I suppose you lawyers would all go out of business. However, at the 4 [49] JOCELYN WEST moment I am concerned not so much with the philosophy of the marriage laws although I ad- mit the interest of that subject as with the concrete case of a young woman who desires her freedom, which her husband will not give her. The point seems to be that she is a slave, bound for life, and your legal mind offers no avenue of escape." "That is about the substance of it, I'm afraid." "Well, I can only add that my excursus into the law has made me a convert to the views of Bernard Shaw, as regards the subject of divorce." And Knight left the office of his legal adviser in no very pleasant mood. He was not accustomed to be balked in his plans by any obstacle whatso- ever, and the present experience put him in a decidedly rebellious frame of mind. [50] CHAPTER IV THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION Prescott Knight did not see Senora Madero during those first few days after the landing of the steamer. He had learned her address before say- ing good-bye on the pier, and he had telephoned her on several occasions; but she had replied that she was going out of town for the week-end, and pleaded an engagement as an excuse for not accept- ing his invitations to lunch or dine with him. He felt that she was evading him, but as he now un- derstood the reason, he did not resent, much as he deplored, her attitude. She had promised, however, to meet him early in the following week. Meantime Knight, as we have seen, was inform- ing himself as to the probability of Jocelyn's being able to secure her freedom. The girl herself had also renewed her efforts to that end. She had not only consulted her lawyers, but had sent through them a direct appeal to her husband, making the offer of certain financial sacrifices, hoping to gain [51] JOCELYN WEST through his cupidity what no sense of generosity would cause him to accede to. For Jocelyn's lawyers had taken the same view of the legal aspect of the matter that had been arrived at by the expert Knight had consulted. Tuesday morning Knight called up Senora Madero on the telephone, and asked her to go to lunch with him. She suggested that he come to lunch at her apartment instead, and he eagerly acquiesced. The sound of Jocelyn's rich, full voice, even over the telephone, made the young man's pulse beat quicker. The prospect of seeing the girl herself filled his mind with pleasurable anticipations that shut out every other thought. Yet there remained always, as background for the mental picture, the dark shadow of the recollec- tion that Jocelyn was married, and that there was no legal escape from her thraldom. This unpleasant recollection was for the mo- ment quite banished, however, when he at last was ushered into Jocelyn's drawing-room. The girl came forward to greet him with the most spontaneous and unaffected appearance of pleas- ure. She grasped his hand warmly, and her entire manner denoted friendliness. Yet he was con- scious from the first of a certain atmosphere of [52] tt THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION reserve; and the young woman presently put in words the feelings that had thus found uncon- scious expression. "I am truly glad to see you, Mr. Knight," she said; "yet I have had many misgivings about allowing you to come here. We have agreed that we are to be friends, yet there are obvious diffi- culties in the way of our maintaining that friend- ship." But surely "- Oh, I do not mean that there would be any difficulty so far as we ourselves are concerned. But you must remember that my position is a very delicate, and often an embarrassing one. I am a married woman, separated from her husband in fact, yet just as rigidly bound to him by law as if actually living with him. A woman under these circumstances is always subject to the critical surveillance of every one about her. All men regard her as fair game. " 1 ' Jocelyn ! " he protested. "Again I do not refer to you, amigo mio" she said, with an almost caressing accent on the word that made his heart leap. "I speak of men as a class, and of the interpretation which man and woman alike put upon a friendship between a [53] JOCELYN WEST married woman detached from her husband and any man whomsoever. When the woman hap- pens to be as young as I am, and the man as obvi- ously attractive as you are, the tongues of the gossips would be set wagging all the more readily." Knight was too honest not to admit the truth of the suggestion. But his affection for the girl, which grew with each sight of her, was such that he would not for a moment consider the thought of giving her up. Each time he had met her she had shown him a different aspect of her person- ality, and each one seemed more charming than the last. He contrasted now the gravity and earnestness of her pale face with the jollity and vivacity of the girl who had danced at the concert, and with the demure coquetry of the Sefiora who had lisped broken English that afternoon on the boat; and he felt that his first impression of a responsive, sympathetic personality was emphasized and demonstrated. Here at last he had found the woman of his dreams found her only to be told that he must give her up. His mind rebelled at the injustice of the situa- tion. " Jocelyn," he said; "I realize the full force of [54] THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION your suggestion; and I need not tell you that I would not do anything that might compromise you in the eyes of your associates or of the world at large. But what are we to do? Before I knew that you were not free, I told you that I loved you. Learning that you are married does not make me cease to love you; though according to the conventionalities of society, I may not now tell you so without offending the proprieties. But our case stands apart from the conventionalities. You are nominally bound" "Unfortunately I am bound with legal chains that are very far from being 'only nominal.' ' He realized the truth of this, and for a few min- utes was silent. He arose and stalked back and forth, his hands behind his back, in a manner that characterized him when puzzled or deeply in- volved in thought. "We must find a way out, Jocelyn dear." He came close beside her. "I feel that I cannot give you up. And is there any justice in restric- tions that would impose upon you for all time the life of a Vestal? No, you must break the bonds of conventionality" "You forget how society punishes any one who dares to do that." 155] JOCELYN WEST "No; I do not forget. I have thought the matter over have thought of nothing else since that night on the boat. I am trying to see things from your side altogether. I realize the difficulties, the sacrifices required. But all life is a choice of evils, and I ask you frankly whether you might not find a better chance of happiness in defying the conventionalities than in being doomed to a life of celibate retirement; the suppositious life of a nun?" "Happiness?" she queried. "Happiness? I have almost ceased to expect to find much hap- piness. It has sometimes seemed to me that my marriage must have constituted an unpardonable sin for which I must do penance the rest of my life. Don't you remember how George Eliot says in Adam Bede, is it not? that there are some sins that can never be atoned for?" "Well, I don't think even the severest moral- ist would wish to catalogue an ill-advised mar- riage on the part of a seventeen-year-old girl as a sin of the unpardonable type. If the law and the voice of conventionality so decree it, then so much the worse for the law and the voice of con- ventionality. Come, dear Jocelyn, intelligent beings must become to some extent arbiters of [56] THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION their own destinies. You have but one life to live, and it would be the very mockery of justice to assume that a mistake in judgment made when you were a child of seventeen years should put a bar on your chance of happiness for all the future. We can do better than that, Jocelyn." "But how, Prescott?" It was the first time she had called him by his first name, and that indication of friendship gave him a thrill of pleasure. "By taking up our lives together, Jocelyn." "Oh, my friend, you must not speak of such a thing." Her tone was very grave, but without a trace of anger. "If I were to consider it for a moment, all my Puritan ancestors would rise up and haunt me." "But you are not afraid of ghosts, Jocelyn." "Yes; I am afraid of ghosts of that description. But even if I were not, there are more tangible, though not more terrible, things than ghosts to be considered. All my friends in the flesh would of course turn against me. I should be an outcast from the circle of friends where I am now re- spected. How could one expect happiness when cast off by one's friends and upbraided by one's own conscience? No; no, my friend, whatever [57] JOCELYN WEST else may be in store for me, that surely can not be the gateway to my goal of happiness." "But you are fond of me, Jocelyn?" "I could be fond of you very fond of you only too easily, did I not hold myself in check. I tell you that quite frankly." "Then let us go to some other part of the world, and take up life together there. If we leave old friends, we will make new ones. We will be known as man and wife, and our new friends will never suspect" "You forget the ancestral ghosts. They would go with us. And where eight genera- tions of them are New England ghosts, I as- sure you they are very real and utterly domina- ting. There is one strain of Spanish blood in my veins; and the ancestors of that line beckon me tempt me, for a moment, to accept your point of view. But the hosts of Puritans outnumber and overmaster them. If you and I cannot be friends without offending that austere galaxy of monitors, who sit ever in judgment, then we must cease to be friends." He looked at her with increasing amazement as she went on. Here was the little Spanish coquette, the naive girl, transformed into a philosopher, [58] THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION There were mental depths here that he had scarcely suspected, much less sounded. The girl's physical charm had attracted him with the grip of magnetism; the new glimpses of her men- tality made her all the more alluring. But he saw clearly enough the futility of any argument against her prejudice at the moment. So he strove only to convince her that it would be possible for them to remain friends without infring- ing the proprieties. He so far succeeded that she agreed to let him call on her occasionally, and even to go with him now and then for lunch or to a matinee. Yet she made even these concessions not with- out misgivings as to what interpretation her women associates might put upon her friendship with this attractive man. Deep in her heart she had some misgivings also as to whether the concessions she had made slight as they seemed might not lead in the di- rection of dangerous paths. But Prescott urged that even if she were a slave for life at least she had not been condemned by law to solitary con- finement. This argument, together with a con- sciousness of the integrity of her own motives, led her to dismiss the clamorings of the more ascetic of her Puritanical monitors. 159] JOCELYN WEST Even the Blue Laws themselves, she reflected, could hardly condemn a woman to refrain for all time from speaking to a member of the opposite sex. [601 CHAPTER V A DAY WITH THE SPANIARDS For the ensuing week or so nothing occurred to disturb the equanimity of the most Puritanical of Jocelyn's mentors. The girl was constantly on her guard to warn her admirer that their relations must be those of friends, not those of lovers. Her circumspection made her doubly alluring, but Knight had come so to prize her friendship that he held himself carefully in check whenever the impulse to make love to the girl came over him. But one day he learned to his surprise that Jocelyn was to spend the week-end at a country house on Long Island, to attend a hunt to which he also had been invited. Their respective hosts were neighbors, and it was quite by accident that they were to be thrown together in this hunting- party. Needless to say, Knight looked forward to the hunt with keen anticipations. He said nothing to Jocelyn about his expected presence there, [61] JOCELYN WEST thinking to surprise her; and perhaps harboring a half -fear that if she knew of his going she might feel it her duty to stay away. So it chanced that on the morning of the hunt, Jocelyn, seated on a splendid mount, came face to face on a Long Island road with Prescott Knight, likewise mounted, when she had no sus- picion that he was anywhere in that part of the world. Her genuine surprise was mingled with equally genuine pleasure. If a momentary qualm came to her mind she dismissed it immediately. This meeting had not been of her seeking; it had been accomplished without her knowledge or consent. There could be no possible harm in it. The fates had thrown them together for a day in the open. She would make the most of it. Jocelyn was with half a dozen other young women; Knight with a group of men. They rode forward thus to the starting-place. Nor did they have much opportunity for conversation beyond the conventional greetings, until after the run was ended. The dash across country was like any other hunt, with no incidents beyond the ordinary. One or two riders came a cropper, with no great damage done. The anise-bag was finally run to [62] A DAY WITH THE SPANIARDS cover, and Jocelyn and Prescott were well at the front when the "kill" was made. For the return trip, the straggling men and women fell into groups or pairs, and made their way leisurely along the roads instead of cross- country. It was inevitable that Prescott should be at Jocelyn's side, and these two presently found themselves progressing along a road leading through a woodland of scrub oaks and cedars, with no other members of the party within sight or hearing. As they came into a little glade, flooded with sunlight which cast picturesque shadows along the earth carpeted with moss and arbutus, Pres- cott drew his horse in, and regarded his compan- ion at a little distance. If she had seemed allur- ing on previous occasions, she was now enchant- ing. She sat her horse with a grace born of long practice on the range. Her trim, lissome figure was shown to perfection by her riding-habit. Her cheeks had the glow of health, her eyes gleamed, and her entire person seemed vibrant with pleas- urable emotions. He moved his horse close beside her. " Jocelyn, you are wonderful to-day," he mur- mured. [63] "I was just thinking something like that of you," she replied, with a laugh. Her eyes scanned his stalwart figure with frank admiration. "You make me think of a centaur, you seem so much a part of your horse." She reached out her hand impulsively as she spoke. His left joined it, the fingers intertwined, and they rode thus for a little distance. Then of a sudden he leaned far over in the saddle toward her. She drew back instantly. "Oh, please! That was not fair. Centaurs are not to be trusted, I see." After that she pulled her horse a little to one side, and no longer let her hand meet his; but the spirit of the woods was in her veins, and she could not find it in her heart to be angry. The touch of Prescott's hand had thrilled her, and caused her cheeks, already aglow, to take on a yet warmer hue. "Forgive me, Jocelyn, I truly did not premedi- tate doing that," he said penitently. "But how could I help it? If you could see yourself, could know how utterly bewitching, how like an ador- able wood-nymph you are to-day, you would not blame me." "I have not said that I blamed you." Her roguish laugh echoed through the woodland. [64] A DAY WITH THE SPANIARDS "Come; I will beat you to the big trees yonder." Giving rein to her horse she darted ahead at a pace that his mount, with its extra weight,, could not match. When she checked her horse, and let Prescott come again beside her, they had passed through the woodland, and were out in the open country. "Now I am no longer a wood-nymph and you are no longer a centaur. Aren't you sorry? I am. But out here in the open we are just prosaic peo- ple. It was rather scandalous for us to ride through the woods by ourselves, to say nothing of what we did. So now do you ride on your side of the road and conduct yourself with grav- ity becoming your size." She shook her finger banteringly at him as she spoke. Her eyes still sparkled, the blood still glowed in her cheeks, her smile revealed her teeth; and the ensemble made so bewitching a personal- ity that Prescott Knight, his blood atingle, felt an almost irresistible impulse to seize her, centaur- like, and dash with her he cared not whither. There was something eerie, elusive, almost supersensual about her in this mood. Prescott whimsically likened her to the ghost of one of those pleasure-loving Spanish ancestors. But 5 [65] she was a very corporeal ghost, he reflected, as he noted the graceful curves of her figure and the pulsing undulations of her bosom. They rode on for the most part without speak- ing, happy in each other's presence. When they were joined presently by a group of other hunters, they responded casually to the greeting of their companions, but they were still absorbed, lover- like, with their own thoughts, and each had eyes only for the other. As Prescott helped Jocelyn to dismount, he held her hand for a moment, and they smiled into each other's eyes. A . "I hope you have enjoyed the ride. "It has been glorious." For a moment their hands lingered; each felt the thrill of their mutual contact. But they parted without a word beyond these banalities. A few hours later they were again together, in the large room where the guests had assembled for the hunt ball. They had circled the room again and again in the waltz, to the seductive music of the old Blue Danube. As the music ceased, Prescott led his companion out on the terrace. They found a seat in a dark corner of the veranda, where they were quite by themselves. [66] A DAY WITH THE SPANIARDS "Did you read the verses I sent you this eve- ning?" he asked. "To be sure I did- when did you write them?" "I was inspired by our ride this afternoon, and I wrote them immediately after our return." "And I forthwith learned them by heart." "Did you? I'm immensely flattered. Repeat them for me." "If you will promise to sit very still, and not to move until I tell you you may, I will do it." "I promise." Jocelyn arose and stood in front of him. "Your verses, Mr. Poet," she laughed, "ex- press sentiments that are rather shocking. It is not for me to judge of the truth of your words, but I will recite them. Please give attention: "Of all strange things in a world full strange, The strangest by far is this: That a man will his very soul exchange As the price of a woman's kiss. " 'Tis but a trifle lips that part And to yours for a moment cling; A form pressed to yours for the beat of a heart Ah, yes, 'tis a trifling thing! [671 JOCELYN WEST "Yet crowns have been lost and kingdoms won Since time began, I wis, And honor bartered and fame undone For this trifle a woman's kiss. "The wisest of men have become as fools, The bravest cowards, the good remiss, In the quest of that which the wide world rules, A winsome face with its lips that kiss "Oh, 'twere easy to prove as the rule of three That these kissing lips are a devil's lure To draw men away from their destiny, Leading them on to destruction sure. x " 'Twere easy to prove nay, it needs no proof, That kissing lips breed sorrow from bliss; Oh, the man is a fool that holds not aloof, From the siren-snare of a woman's kiss! "Yet I that have striven to win a name Through many a task that the soul equips For higher flights I would forfeit fame, I would barter each prize of the whole world-game, For the touch of one woman's lips." She enunciated softly, yet with distinctness, and her tones had a caressing quality that added to the sensuousness of the words. The radiant [68] A DAY WITH THE SPANIARDS face and vibrant figure of the girl herself gave the finishing touch, to make the lover's nerves tingle. But he remembered his promise, and restrained the impulse to spring to his feet. "Am I to understand that mv lips are referred to in that last verse?" "Assuredly yours and no other." "Then you deserve a reward. Remember your promise not to stir." She stooped suddenly forward, put her hands on his shoulders, and brought her face close to his. "You are magnificent, primeval man," she whispered. "I truly wish I might kiss you. But now that I learn what a terrible thing a kiss is I dare not." Then she sprang back with a peal of laughter that haunted his dreams for days to come. Glid- ing across the terrace, she was lost in the com- pany of dancers. The shades of the Spaniards had had their inning. Knight arose, his heart throbbing tumultu- ously, and followed. But for the remainder of the evening she eluded him; though once or twice in the dance as they came near each other their eyes met, hers still full of mirth, his deep-glowing [69] JOCELYN WEST with passion. For an instant only he was alone with her in the hallway as the guests were saying good-night. She touched his hand with hers, gave it the slightest perceptible pressure, smiled roguishly, showing her gleaming teeth; half whispered, "Buenos noches, Amigo mio," and was gone. [70] CHAPTER VI THE TRIUMPH OF THE PURITANS In his room after the hunt ball, Prescott Knight sat for hours, his heart aflame and his head awhirl. As usual, the emotional stimulus gave him the impulse to write. He seized a pen, and jotted down the thoughts that crowded in upon his excited brain. He had caught for the first time to-day a glimpse of the personality of yet another Jocelyn Jocelyn the wood-nymph, the primeval woman, the adorable daughter of Aphrodite. For a time he could think of her only thus; but presently there came as a background for his thoughts the sense of her mental traits, her moral standards, her spirituality, as revealed in their earlier acquaintance. A full appreciation of her marvelously rounded personality came to him. Then he was led to reflect on his own dual per- sonality on the two utterly antagonistic im- pulses that had actuated him in his desire to pos- [71] JOCELYN WEST sess this most adorable woman. As his thoughts shaped themselves, he began putting them on paper, and the conceit came to him to transcribe them in the form of a dialogue between the two opposing selves of which he was conscious the intellectual self, which thought of Jocelyn as a mind, a spirit, a sympathetic companion; and the primitive self which had to-day been held in thraldom by the physical personality of his enamorata. "You are magnificent, primeval man," Jocelyn the wood-nymph had said to him, as her hands for a moment rested on his shoulders, out there on the terrace. But another personality had touched his hand and said "Good-night, my friend," at the stairway an hour later. Then she had seemed ethereal, spirituelle, intellectual, and her friendliness had had an element of reserve such as had marked it in their earlier acquaint- ance. This last impression of the girl came into the foreground of his mind as he began writing. What he wrote followed the shifting tenor of his thoughts. He captioned his musings with the title: "Dialogue of the man In- tellecto and his alter-ego Primitive"- and he , [72] / THE TRIUMPH OF THE PURITANS represented the two antagonistic personalities as praising in turn the different aspects of Jocelyn's personality. His emotions were colored by the lover's nat- ural figure of speech, and some of Primitive's outbursts were too impassioned to be reproduced for the eyes of a reading public accustomed to the chaperonage, so to speak, of prudish traditions. But in the end, as at the beginning, the more intellectual and spiritual element of his own na- ture was in the ascendancy, and the truer depths of his affection found expression in the rhap- sodies with which Intellecto was made to meet the more material and passionate outbursts of Primitive. Thus Intellecto was represented as depicting the physical charms of his enamorata in such terms as these: "Ah, how her sweet face haunts me! How my heart throbs as I seem to hear the rich modula- tions of her voice! Her merry laugh rings in my ears. I can feel the pulsing cadence of her tones as she recites a ballad of Thackeray, or the virile strains of the Yukon poet. I see deep into her eyes, and her soul seems revealed. I recall the [73] JOCELYN WEST spontaneous smile; the warm, tender hand- clasp "- And when Primitive interrupts to call atten- tion to the more sensuous aspects of her person- ality "The provocative sinuousness of waist- line; the entrancing taper of agile limbs," and the like, Intellecto urges: "I do not wish to think of Jocelyn thus. I think of her as a mind, a soul, a spirit: a mind marvelously intuitive, aspiring after knowledge, interested in my work, seeking channels of self- expression; a soul attuned to the beautiful in nature, swept by noble emotions; a spirit instinct with altruistic impulses, yearning after high ideals, striving for self-betterment and for the betterment of those about her." There was much more in kind; but these glimpses suffice to show the highly emotional state of mind in which the day had left Jocelyn's lover, and the depth and sincerity of the affection with which the girl had inspired him. While Prescott Knight was recording his dis- cordant emotions in this half-poetical fashion, Jocelyn Madero was engaged as was doubtless natural enough in a not altogether dissimilar task of self-analysis. Unlike her admirer, she did [74] THE TRIUMPH OF THE PURITANS not put her thoughts on paper; but she dramatized them in an even more spectacular fashion. The young woman, rather curiously for one of her sex, had given a good deal of attention to the study of heredity. It was this, doubtless, that had led her, when talking with Knight, to conjure up the figures of a galaxy of Puritan ancestors op- posing a smaller group of Spanish progenitors. She had read enough about the newest and most popular phase of heredity to think of all the traits of body and mind as being grouped in antago- nistic pairs, each, as it were, fighting for self-ex- pression. So now as she contemplated the events of the day that was coming to a close, she seemed to see before her that host of Puritan forebears, trans- mitting along the line of descent, and finally to her the helpless recipient of their tendencies the traits of mind that go to make up the austere, precise, New England character. These traits she had recognized in her own instinctive tenden- cies. Using the popular phrasing, she had often spoken of them to herself as the "dominant" traits of her character. But she had been conscious also that other traits [751 JOCELYN WEST of a quite different type were half-concealed back of these puritanical ones the traits of a vivacious and pleasure-loving personality. These traits she had laughingly referred to, still using the conventional phrasing, as the "reces- sive" propensities of her character; and they con- stituted her heritage, she felt well assured, from the galaxy of Spaniards that specifically repre- sented the forebears of her paternal grandmother. This Spanish host seemed now marshalled before her mind's eye as she stood musing, slowly disrobing, in her room after the hunt ball. "You have had your innings to-day, my be- loved ancestors," she said, with a mock bow of salutation. As she spoke, she chanced to catch a glimpse of herself in a large mirror that revealed her half- disrobed figure. The electric light fell full on her, and feature and outline were repeated with the fidelity and vividness of reality itself in the plate- glass image. Jocelyn regarded the lissome figure with ap- proval. She noted the cheeks, still flushed from the exhilaration of the dance, the eyes asparkle. Her bare arms flashed white as she now extended them and raised them above her head, as if hold- [76] THE TRIUMPH OF THE PURITANS ing the castanet with which she was wont to accompany herself when she danced the taran- tella. She assumed the attitude of the dance, her head thrown back, her body poised, revealing a most enticing contour. Posing thus, she tossed her head, made a quick foot-thrust or two, swayed her body as in the dance, moved her arms languorously, and smiled at her own image till her teeth shone white and her dark eyes were lustrous, soul-revealing depths. Then she laughed softly, made a low obeisance, and said aloud, addressing the image: "Yes, I know you full well. You are Jocelyn West otherwise Senorita Natura, child of Span- ish gallants and pleasure-loving ladies. You are a born coquette, a flirt; a type of femininity; a lover of life, of things sensual; a reveller in the beauties of nature; a being of warm flesh and pulsing blood. To-day has been for you a day of life, of triumph; but wait you are under sur- veillance." She raised her finger as if in warning; and as she did so she half turned, and extended her hand toward the opposite side of the room, where an- other mirror, panelled in a wardrobe, revealed again the full contour of her figure. [771 JOCELYN WEST By a curious effect of light, the entire appear- ance of this second reflection was in utter con- trast with the first. One showed Jocelyn's figure bathed in light, aglow with color. The other re- vealed her all in shadow. The effect was natural enough was indeed inevitable, as all the lights were at the side of the room where the first mirror was placed. Yet the result, to one in Jocelyn's mood, was distinctly startling. Looking now at the second image, she beheld the same contour as before; but a figure painted as it were in flat shadow; a face devoid of color. The very aspect of the figure seemed changed, as Jocelyn, half startled by the contrast, added to it by assuming an involuntary attitude of sur- prise, almost of fear. The face in the mirror took on an expression of austerity. She regarded this second apparition fixedly for several moments, her face becoming more and more grave. Then with a beckoning movement behind her, as if to call to her side the image of the first mirror, she said slowly: " There, fair Sefiorita Natura; behold your Nemesis ! This severe-seeming lady who is watch- ing you, bears, by a curious paradox, the Spanish name Senora Madero; otherwise, let me see; ah, [78] THE TRIUMPH OF THE PURITANS yes, I recall, she is Mistress Aspera; daughter of the Puritans; being of mind and morals rather than of flesh and blood. With her must you reckon. This day you have ignored and defied her. Imagine her feelings when you came through the woodland there, alone with a Man; but let us not even try to imagine what they were when you let that man hold your hand. Oh, do you see the blood coming to her pale cheeks even now at the recollection? "And as to your conduct of the evening out there on the terrace ah, let us not think of it, much less speak of it. Long and dreadful must be your penance for that unpardonable sin. Mistress Aspera will counsel you, upbraid you, and pray over you by the hour, ere that transgression is forgiven and forgotten." As the soliloquy continued, Jocelyn's voice had become more and more grave and serious. Her own mood reflected the mood of the figure in the shadow. She felt a sudden twinge of con- science at the remembrance of the day's trans- gressions. The recollection of her true position, which she had purposely banished, came back to her with full force. She suppressed a sigh that was half a sob. Then she turned away from the [79] JOCELYN WEST mirror, and impulsively touched the button ex- tinguishing the lights. "Natura and Aspera; child of Nature and daughter of the Puritans, I bid you good-night," she said. " I, Jocelyn West Madero, am going out to commune with the stars." She slipped on a soft fleecy coat and stepped out on the little balcony. It was one of those clear dark nights when each star reveals itself in the vault with diamond-like brilliancy, and when, alone beneath the stars, one feels in the midst of sympathetic friends. Jocelyn's mind had now reacted from the exal- tation of the day, and a deep-seated, haunting sense of apprehension and sadness brooded over her spirit. The words of Going's poem came to her lips: " Star-glow and song they melt from sound and sight, The great infinity enfolds them round In darkness yet more beautiful than light And silence more harmonious than sound. "So may we pass, in wonder and afar, When the slow curtains of the night are drawn, To sleep beyond the star-dusk and the star To waking that is stranger than the dawn!" [80] THE TRIUMPH OF THE PURITANS As she slowly recited these words, she found herself brooding over the realities of her position. Her thoughts went out to Prescott Knight; to the might-have-beens that his nearness evoked; and she felt herself wishing that her spirit might in very truth be transported " beyond the star- dusk and the star" be its final destiny a "strange waking" or an eternity of oblivion. She was too young and too buoyant, however, to remain long hi this mood. Presently, by a curi- ous antithesis, the words of the childhood jingle, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are," came into her mind, and she recited the lines over and over until she found herself think- ing of their meaning, and actually wondering about the stars. She knew just enough of astron- omy to understand that the stars are distant suns, perhaps the centers of planetary systems. As she gazed at the seeming thousands of these that were revealed above her, a sense of her own littleness of the inconsequence of her life; of the life of any mortal came to her, and with it a momentary balm. While this mood lasted she went inside, hastily disrobed, and sprang into bed. But now, alone in the dark, the exalted mood JOCELYN WEST of the starlight no longer supported her. The realities of the little world of ourselves of here and now made themselves felt, and insistently paraded before her mental view. For hours she could not sleep. Her thoughts during that long vigil reviewed all the salient events of her past, and conjured unhappy predictions as to her future. One conclusion made itself clearer and clearer to her as she brooded through the still hours of the night. She must obey the call of her Puritan ancestors. Of that there could be no doubt. And this meant so she well knew, though she tried hard to reason herself away from the knowledge that she must give up seeing Prescott Knight once and for all. The thought of this sacrifice cut her to the quick; yet she knew that therein lay her only safety. Finally, just as day was breaking, she arose; secured pen and paper; and hurriedly wrote a letter; folded without reading it, and addressed the envelope to "Prescott Knight, Esq." Then she went back to bed, and presently fell asleep. And no doubt the galaxy of New England ancestors, having looked over her shoulder as she wrote the letter, breathed ghostly sighs of relief. [821 But the Spanish hosts, by the same token, may be supposed to have risen up in angry, though futile, remonstrance. For the letter she had written was this: "My DEAR FRIEND: I have hardly closed my eyes thinking over the events of the day, and I am writing to tell you that which I find it hard to say, yet which I know is for the best. "We must not go on seeing each other. "It is not fair to you or to me. Surely we can both see whither we are drifting, and I cannot be reconciled to adopt your point of view, i So I am asking you to release me from the dinner- engagement we made for next Monday, and I take it that you, who understand all things, will be gracious about it. "I do not want to inflict pain, nor do you either, but please believe me, this is for the best. "Always sincerely, "JOCELYN MADERO." [83] CHAPTER VII JOCELYN IN QUEST OF LIBERTY Prescott Knight received Jocelyn's letter in town that Monday morning. He broke the seal with the most pleasurable anticipations. The shock he received from the contents was propor- tionately severe. He was for a time dumbfounded, stunned. When at last he recovered sufficiently, he wrote letter after letter in response, tearing up each in turn. At last in desperation he scrawled a few lines in which he said that, after hours of mental turmoil, he had reached a point of relative calm, in which he could see with a certain clearness. He recog- nized the reality of the dangers of their position; the realities of the phantoms that hovered over them. Yet he made an appeal a passionate appeal to Jocelyn to reconsider her decision; to let them try to be friends in the purest sense. [84] JOCELYN IN QUEST OF LIBERTY He dispatched the letter by a messenger; and paced his room for an hour or two days they seemed till the messenger returned. The letter he brought was this: "AMIGO Mio: What can I say to your let- ter beside acknowledging its tenderness and sincerity? "My pen fails to keep pace with my thoughts that rush madly, chaotically, nowhere; and after the same 'mental turmoil' of which you speak, in my hour of calmness, I find my decision unalterable notwithstanding the plea that you so ably make. "Do you go back to your work with a keener zest, saying that the little Senora was only an episode, soon to be forgotten." Prescott read and re-read the letter; and his whole world seemed turned topsy-turvy. But he did not at first rebel against the mandates of the letter. The words seemed inexorable. He did not feel that he could even telephone to Jocelyn; he feared that he could not control his voice. So he brooded darkly over the injus- tice of the Fates for an entire day. The following day he resolved to make one more effort to fight against the current. Sum- [85] JOCELYN WEST moning all his resolution, he took down the tele- phone receiver and called for Jocelyn's number. A strange voice, replying, told him that Senora Madero and her maid had gone from New York for an indefinite period; and had not left an ad- dress except that of her banker. Prescott called up the bank and was assured, politely but firmly, that the custodians of Senora Madero's property were not authorized to give her address. Th'ey would, however, forward any mail that was sent her. Prescott hung up the telephone receiver in despair. In point of fact, Jocelyn's sudden action had been resolved upon partly by way of seeking safety in flight, partly to carry out the project of a seem- ing forlorn hope. Convinced of the futility of further correspond- ence, she had suddenly resolved to go to the ranch and make a personal appeal to her husband. She had many misgivings about the project; and she shrunk from the thought of seeing Juan, as from the touch of some loathsome thing. But the overmastering desire to be free, and the conviction that by no possibility could she attain this end without a personal interview with the man who held her in bondage, led her finally [86] JOCELYN IN QUEST OF LIBERTY to put aside all scruples and to out-argue her own apprehensions. Having decided to go, she acted with charac- teristic energy and celerity. "We are going on a journey to the West," she announced to her maid. "We shall be gone at least a month, perhaps longer. We start this afternoon. Please get everything ready at once." On board the Twentieth Century Limited that afternoon they were starting for the West, almost at the very moment when Knight was reading Jocelyn's second letter. The trip was tiresome but devoid of incident. On the morning of the third day they arrived at the railway station nearest the ranch. They were still fifty miles from their destination, but an au- tomobile was engaged to take them four-fifths of the journey, to the little town only six or eight miles from the ranch. It pleased Jocelyn's fancy to make the remain- der of the journey on horseback. Merely to sit in the saddle always tended to exhilarate her, and she felt that a gallop across the mesa would the better prepare her for the interview that she dreaded none the less because it was of her own seeking. Marcellina was also an excellent horse- [87] JOCELYN WEST woman, and she decided to accompany her mis- tress on horseback. So, directing the chauffeur to await their return, the two women mounted, and were soon galloping along the well-remembered road leading to the ranch. They had ridden four or five miles, when, as they turned a corner in the road, Jocelyn saw a horseman coming toward them, whom she instantly recognized as her husband. She braced herself for the ordeal. She hoped that her face would not reveal the real state of her feelings; for she went hot and cold alternately, and her heart thumped till she feared it must be audible. As Juan drew near, she saw that he had not noticeably altered in the two years that had elapsed since she had seen him. He was hand- some and debonnair as ever, his moustache waxed and curled, his eyes flashing black, with the cold glitter of steel. As he raised his sombrero, she noted that his hair had thinned; but there was no other visible evidence that he had changed for better or worse. His manner had all the old-time Spanish gal- lantry. As he came close he hailed her with a [88] JOCELYN IN QUEST OF LIBERTY term of endearment, and leaned forward as if to kiss her. She drew back quickly in the saddle, but gave him her gloved hand and responded to his greet- ing with as much of seeming cordiality as she could summon. After all, she had come to seek a favor, and she must propitiate the man on whose answer all her future happiness seemed to depend. But she had no wish to postpone matters. So she nodded to her maid to check in her horse a little, and allowed Madero to ride at her side. She addressed him quite calmly: "Juan, it is not necessary to tell you why I have come. I am here to say to you, what I have so often written, that I am ready to make any finan- cial sacrifice in order to have my freedom. I thought by coming in person I could sign any papers that may be necessary." "So you have found some man you like better than your husband." He spoke slowly, putting a peculiar emphasis on the last word. "I have not said so, Juan. It is not a question of someone else, so much as of being free. You know we can never be anything to each other again. It is not fair to you that you should be [89] JOCELYN WEST bound to me, any more than it is fair that I should be bound to you." "I see no unfairness in the proposition from either side, my dear wife." He drawled the last words with a most exasperating insistence. "We are married and belong to each other. I have at no time wished for what you call freedom. I ask only that you return here to your home, to take up the old life as your plain duty demands." "You know that is utterly impossible, Juan; let us not even refer to it. Let us only discuss the terms on which you are willing to release me." "I do not like your choice of words, querida mm. There is no question of 'release.' You are not a captive; you are my lawful wife. It is my duty as well as pleasure to provide for you, to love and cherish you as long as I live. Whom God hath united, no man can put asunder. That, as you know, is the mandate of the mother church under whose sanction we were married. ; "But come, my dear, what manner of greet- ing is this for husband and wife who have not seen each other for two years? Tell me about yourself. There is no need to ask if you are well your looks are sponsor for that. You must tell me of all you have done; of the interesting people you [90] JOCELYN IN QUEST OF LIBERTY have met. One leads a lonely life here on the mesa, as you know, and your stories will be a boon." Jocelyn bit her lip in chagrin and anger. " Juan, can you not be reasonable?" she said, when she could control her voice. "I can and will be not only reasonable, but generous and forgiving. If you prefer not to talk of your experiences, I will ask nothing about them. I will not ask you to mention the name of a single friend you may have met in the outside world, or to talk of a single incident. We will take up the old life just where we left it, and as if you had been away for a ten days' visit instead of for two years. So be it; all is forgotten. Let us talk of the weather and the crops." "Juan, there is only one subject of which I wish to talk. I have already told you what that is." "And that chances to be the only subject about which I must refuse to talk. Jocelyn suddenly halted her horse, and turned it about. "Then there is no need for me to go on. I know there is no use in appealing to your sympathy or your compassion. I did think that by offering to give you my share in the property, you might, [91J JOCELYN WEST as a business proposition, give me my liberty. As you are not interested, I shall bid you ' Good- bye.' " This unexpected turn of affairs brought Juan into another mood. He had no mind to let Jocelyn slip away from him so easily. So, like a true Spaniard, he adopted evasive tactics. "Come, come, Jocelyn," he expostulated; "I have not said that I will not do as you wish. Certainly I shall not refuse to discuss the matter with you. But let us wait till we are at the house. Let us then call in Padre Francisco and ask his advice. You know we can do nothing without his co-operation." , Jocelyn realized the truth of the last allegation, little as she trusted the preamble of the speech. She reflected that she would at least be no worse off for seeing the priest. And it was not her na- ture to leave a task half completed, or to give up without having made every possible effort, so she turned her horse's head and rode on, saying simply: "Very well; I will see the Padre. Will you ride ahead, please, and summon him; for I have no time to lose." Juan thought it best to accede to her request; [92] , JOCELYN IN QUEST OF LIBERTY so telling her to ride directly to the house, he raised his sombrero and galloped off. "You are not so pressed for tune as you think, my fine lady," he muttered to himself as he rode away. "A bird in the hand may find it hard to get back to the bush. We shall see.' [93] CHAPTER VIII WHOM GOD HATH JOINED A flood of memories threatened to overmaster Jocelyn, as she rode up to the house to which she had first come as a bride five years ago, and which she had left, vowing never to return, a few months later. Nothing about the place seemed to have changed. The man who came to take their horses touched his sombrero as if the Senora had merely come from a morning's ride; and none of the servants manifested the slightest surprise at seeing her. She waited in the living-room and Juan pres- ently came with the priest. "Perhaps you would like to speak alone with Padre Francisco," Juan suggested with seeming deference, after the greetings were over. "I should think it better for you to be present, as the interview chiefly concerns you." [94] WHOM GOD HATH JOINED "I will return presently. I have one or two things to attend to." "Do not be gone long, please; for we must set out again within an hour." "I will see that your horses are looked after, and return." As Juan left them the priest turned to Jocelyn with a smile that was intended to express at once benevolence and friendliness, but which sug- gested quite different emotions. "I am delighted at your return, Senora. We have missed you greatly. Surely you must be tired of journeying, now, and glad to be at home again." Jocelyn ignored his words, knowing that he understood the situation perfectly. "Padre Francisco, let us speak to the point. I have come back only to beg Sefior Madero to re- lease me. My remaining here is not even in ques- tion. I return in an hour. I seek your aid with reference to the details that may be necessary to effect the annulment of our marriage." The priest raised his hand in an attitude of deprecation. "Oh, Senora, these are very serious words. I am shocked and grieved to hear vou say them. [95] Surely you are aware that the Church does not countenance the separation of husband and wife. 'Whom God hath united no man may put asunder.'. " He had drawn his chair close in front of her as he spoke, and now his hand rested on hers, which she could not withdraw without palpable rude- ness. "I have always loved you, Senora as a daugh- ter," he said, slowly; but there seemed nothing paternal in the expression of his eyes. "I have grieved at your absence, and it re- joiced my heart when Juan told me that you had returned. I little thought your coming had such a meaning." He paused, and seemed to reflect, looking straight in her eyes. "Tell me, my daughter, why do you seek to annul your marriage? Is it that your heart has turned towards some man other than your hus- band?" "Father Francisco, I cannot discuss the mat- ter," she cried impatiently. "You know I am not of your faith, and this is not a confessional. It is enough that I cannot and will not live with Senor Madero; and that I wish to give him his freedom [96] WHOM GOD HATH JOINED and to regain my own. The question is, Will you help to secure it?" She pushed her chair back and rose as she spoke, feeling his nearness intolerable. At that moment Juan appeared at the door. Jocelyn's back was towards him, but the priest saw him and he slightly raised his voice as he said: "Whatever your motive, Sefiora, you must un- derstand once and for all that we cannot coun- tenance the thing you suggest. Your husband cannot release you. You are his wife. You have sworn to love, honor, and obey him. The Church cannot make you love and honor; but the laws make sure that you shall obey. Look ahead, Sefiora. You are young and years are before you. You are bound for life to Juan Madero. Whom God hath united no man may put asunder." "Well spoken, Padre." At the words Jocelyn turned, and became aware of the reason for the change in the Padre's tone and manner. "I urge you, my daughter," the priest con- tinued, "to take up your life here with your hus- band, comforting his bed and board as is your wifely duty. There is no other hope of happiness for you in this world or the next. The Church 7 [97] JOCELYN WEST has so decreed it; all human society is built on that decree." "You hear what he says, Jocelyn," said Juan. "His words, as you know, are final. I could do nothing, even if I wished to interfere. Our lot is cast together; come and take your share in it. I repeat that I will ask nothing about your absence. All shall be as in the old days." He turned towards the priest. "Padre, I am deeply indebted to you for mak- ing the matter clear. The Senora, I am sure, sees the wisdom of your words." The priest bowed and left the room. When Jocelyn had sufficiently recovered her composure to trust herself to speak, she said : "I see that it is useless to argue the case, Juan. So please send word to my maid that I am ready, and order our horses." "I am very sorry, my dear, but your horse has gone lame. The man reported it and I saw it for myself just now at the stable. I have sent for my foreman, but he cannot get here for an hour. Meantime let us have something to eat. Surely you will not deny me the pleasure of sitting at lunch with you." Jocelyn's first thought was a suspicion that [98] WHOM GOD HATH JOINED Juan had purposely lamed the horse. Her sus- picion was fully justified. In point of fact, a pebble had been craftily placed under the animal's shoe. But of course Jocelyn had no way of veri- fying her suspicion; and, in any event, she knew it would be useless to refer to it. So when she asked to have the horse brought out, it was merely with the idea of gaining time and seeking an opportunity to speak with her maid. While Juan went to order the horse, Jocelyn beckoned to Marcellina, who had lingered within sight on the veranda. " Marcellina/' she said, hurriedly, "go at once very quietly to the telephone you remember where it is and call up our chauffeur. Tell him to come at once with the car, as quickly as pos- sible. One of the horses is lame." The girl nodded, and made a gesture that im- plied full comprehension of the situation. "Be sure to telephone yourself; and let no one overhear your message." "Trust me for that, Sefiora." The maid slipped quietly away, and Jocelyn was standing alone, apparently unconcerned, when Juan returned. A moment later the horse [99] was led up. There was no mistaking the serious- ness of its limp; and Jocelyn readily agreed that riding it in that condition was out of the question. "The foreman will be here in an hour," said Juan carelessly. "Meantime let us go to lunch." If he was surprised at the readiness of Jocelyn's acquiescence, he was far too clever to show it. As they sat at the table, their conversation for a time did not depart from the conventional. He told her incidents of ranch life of the number of cattle now on the range; the prospects for the coming year. But she noted presently that he was taking glass after glass of wine, drinking her health again and again. He urged her to drink, and when she declined he restrained his impatience with obvi- ous difficulty. Finally he arose and took a turn or two about the room. Then he seated himself beside her. She moved her chair away, but he put out his hand to restrain her. "Come, come, nina mia" he whispered. "Do not repulse me. Think of the old days." There was a look in his eyes that was unmis- takable, and now his face was flushed, and his voice was unsteady as he said: [100] WHOM GOD HATH JOINED "You are very beautiful to-day, heart of my heart. Ah, it is a joy to think that you are my wife. Yet, think of it, my beloved, you have not kissed me since you returned after all these months of absence. Well, your lips will be all the sweeter for the delay." He put out his arms, but she sprang to her feet and eluded him. She darted towards the door; but he caught her just as she reached it, and threw his arms about her. She struggled fiercely to free herself, and uttered an involuntary scream. He laughed mockingly. "It is useless to scream, querida mia. I am master here, and no one will heed you. But you have nothing to fear. Am I not your husband? Is it not a husband's right to salute his wife?"/ He held his hand over her mouth now to quiet her, and in so doing he released one of her arms. Exerting all her strength she brought her palm to his face, and gave a sudden thrust that over- balanced him. As he relaxed his hold, she sprang to the middle of the room. "Well done, you little panther," he muttered. He turned to lock the door, putting the key in his pocket. [101] JOCELYN WEST "Now we shall see who is master here," he sneered. There was a gleam of low, malicious cunning in his eye as he faced her. But the look instantly changed to one of anger, not unmixed with fear, for Jocelyn was standing in the center of the room, with her right hand ex- tended directly towards him, and in her hand was something that had a sinister glitter in the dull light. Instinctively Juan started forward. But the look in Jocelyn's eye brought him to his senses, and he paused just in time. "Unlock that door and open it; then stand back behind the table," she said quietly. With a look of hatred on his dark face, Juan unlocked the door and drew back. As Jocelyn came on to the veranda, MarceUina ran towards her. "The car will be here any moment, Senora. I heard the horn down the road there." A moment later the car appeared. The two women hastily entered it. Just as it started, Juan appeared on the veranda. His face was wreathed in smiles. He came to the steps, bowed ceremoniously, waved his hand and called [102] WHOM GOD HATH JOINED out a parting salutation in the most suave tones. But his whole aspect and manner changed the moment they were out of sight. He summoned his foreman. "Geronimo, get the automobile ready at once. We will follow the Senora." "Si, Senor, it will be ready in five minutes." Meantime Jocelyn, having no suspicion that she was being followed, made such effort as she could to recover her composure, and felt an added sense of relief with each mile of distance that sep- arated her from the ranch. "It was foolish of me to come," she said to Marcellina presently. "But I felt that I must make this final effort. Now I at least know the worst." Beyond this she scarcely spoke till they were drawing up at the railway station that marked the end of their automobile journey. Then she directed the maid to buy tickets to the Grand Canon, and check the baggage there. "I think a few days at El Tovar will do us good," she said. [103] CHAPTER DC THE FINISHED CHAPTER It was a superb April day when Jocelyn and Marcellina came to the hotel at the canon. Jocelyn still felt the strain of the ordeal through which she had passed. But the atmosphere at El Tovar is electrical; and a glimpse of the canon exalts the mind, gives one a new sense of proportion, and soothes sorrow itself into forgetfulness. So Jocelyn's spirits had already begun to rise when she came from the hotel and strolled out on the terrace that gives a view across the great gorge. The final touch was given to the rejuve- nation of her spirits when, as she came around the clump of junipers to an outjutting point that she well remembered, she caught the first glimpse of the setting sun, all mantled in clouds of lam- bent tints. But her enthusiasm received a momentary check as she beheld the figure of a man standing [104] THE FINISHED CHAPTER at the apex of the ledge, on the very spot which she was seeking. She was about to turn back, but a second glance brought her to a full stop. "Is it possible?" she gasped. "No; that is ridiculous. Yet it surely is amazingly like him." She took a few steps to one side till she stood in the shadow of the junipers. Then as she got a clearer view of the man, who had not shifted his position, she was left no longer in doubt. The man was Prescott Knight. There was no mis- taking that gigantic figure, though the face was turned away, intent on the sunset view. Jocelyn clutched her hands ^together, and con- trolled an impulse to run forward and throw her arms about him. Instead, she tiptoed along until she stood almost at his side without his having discovered her presence. Then, disguising her voice, she said nonchalantly : "Mira no mas, Senor; que encantadora!" The man made a gesture of impatience, but did not turn his head. "I am sorry; but I don't speak Spanish," he said rather curtly; "and I came here to watch the sunset." [1051 JOCELYN WEST "Oh, well, I es-speak a leetul Ingleesh," she laughed. He turned towards her instantly. "Jocelyn," he cried, in utter astonishment. Then he sprang forward and would have caught her in his arms. But she held him back, with an arm-thrust which was half a caress, and they stood regarding each other, with mutual surprise, and with pleas- ure that neither sought to conceal. "In the name of wonder how did you come here?" he said at last. "In a railway carriage, of course." "But whence and when and why?" Without waiting for an answer he continued. "It was the merest accident that I stopped here. I am or was on a trip to Lower California, to hunt that mountain sheep I told you about. As I was feeling down in the mouth, I thought a glimpse of the canon would be good for me. And it surely has been," he added. "I certainly am in luck for once." He regarded her so intently that she felt the color rise in her cheeks, and was conscious of her heart-throbs. "Jocelyn," he said at last in a low voice, "are you glad to see me?" [1061 THE FINISHED CHAPTER "I can truly say I was never so glad to see any one before in my life." "Jocelyn! Yet you ran away from me, and now I have found you only by chance." There was a note of reproach in his voice now; seeming only to emphasize the note of tenderness. She came close beside him and laid her hand on his arm. The touch thrilled him as even Jocelyn's touch had never thrilled him before. There was a look in her eyes he had never seen there, and her voice had a vibrant quality that was new to it, as she said: "Never mind that now, Prescott; I will ex- plain everything. Is it not enough that we are together now and, of all places, here at the canon?" "It is enough," he said exultantly. He held both her hands for a moment, but she gently withdrew them. "Let us go to dinner. I have ridden for hours and am starving. As we dine I will tell you every- thing. But I forget you wish to see the sun- set," she added with a bantering laugh. "I wish to see nothing but your eyes, as you know very well," he replied gravely, as they went towards the Inn. [107] JOCELYN WEST Two hours later they were sitting on the ve- randa in the shadow. Prescott had heard every- thing; and Jocelyn had begun to feel the reac- tion from the exhilaration of their unexpected meeting under stress of the rehearsal of the events of the past few days. "I have done my best, Prescott," she said, "and I have signally failed. I am bound to that man for life, and there is no future for me. I can't see any way of escape. Can you, Prescott?" "Of course I can, Jocelyn. I have repeatedly told you what it is. Your life with Madero is a finished chapter. Why should you not take up a new life with me begin a new chapter? You are young, with all the world before you; and I love you. I do not urge you to decide anything to-night; but to-morrow we will talk things over." She rose swiftly, and stood before him. "I think I am ready to decide to-night, Pres- cott dear. If you are sure that you want me, I will come with you. We will begin life over; and it shall indeed be a new chapter. Let us make a tour around the world, and then go to New York to live, and make our lives worth while together." He was on his feet before she had finished speaking, and had seized her hands. [1081 THE FINISHED CHAPTER "Dearest child," was all he could say. "To-morrow, then, we will start. We will tour along the canon for a time; then on to the coast." "Shall we start by the morning train?" "No; let us first go along the canon. About ten miles away at the Grand View trail, there is a cave, far down the canon, a cave reached only by a narrow path hewn out of the rock. No one ever goes to it, but I know it of old. I will guide you to it; and there, close to nature's heart, we will make our camp to-morrow night." She gave a little laugh, and stepped quickly away. "Breakfast at eight," she called back, as she went through the door. Prescott stepped to the edge of the veranda, lighting a cigarette. He walked along the path leading towards the canon. As he did so, a man crept stealthily towards him along the shadow of the cedars. But before the would-be assassin came within striking distance, another man came quickly be- hind him and touched his arm. "Come with me, you fool," whispered the second. "That is the man. I must get him." [109] JOCELYN WEST "Not yet; you would spoil everything. Did you hear what she said about the cave? Well, I know that cave. Padre Francisco told me about it. I know the place, and its location suggests a plan. Your wife is lost to you forever, Juan. You heard what she said. She is lost, body and soul; and this man is responsible. But you shall have your revenge, dear Juan. Come with me." "But, Geronimo," protested the other. "Come; trust everything to me. Your revenge will not be long delayed. I have a plan that will please you. Come." And the two sinister figures disappeared into the night, without having given Prescott an in- timation of their existence. [1101 CHAPTER X THE SPELL OF THE CANON It required but an hour or so in the morning to complete arrangements for the trip. Jocelyn and Prescott sent their chief luggage forward by express to Flagstaff, with instructions to hold until called for. The few things required for the camping trip were soon in readiness. Marcellina was to take the train back to New York, being told that she would probably hear nothing from her mistress for at least a month. The maid was overjoyed at the turn affairs had taken, for Knight had from the outset been a favorite with her. At ten o'clock they took the stage that made the trip along the rim of the canon to the Grand View Hotel. This would bring them to the proximity of the trail leading to the cave about which Jocelyn had spoken. The tourist party in the stage was the usual one all such groups are as much alike as peas in [111] JOCELYN WEST the pod. They were of sundry ages and national- ities, and each individual was in tow, as it were, of his or her own pet superlative, which made itself manifest at every turn in the road, or wher- ever the driver pulled rein at a place affording an especially good view. "Wunderschon!" the stout German never failed to exclaim. "Superb!" "Stupendous!" "Magnificent!" "Glorious!" came with like certitude from the respective lips of various others. And the tall, lank, Middle Westerner with equal invariableness propounded to the universe at large the unanswerable query, "Well, isn't it the limit?" varying the character of the interroga- tion to suit the shifting scene merely to the ex- tent of altering the degree of emphasis on the penultimate word. Then, of course, there was the young woman, who, if she did not come from Boston, should have done so; she who gauged her emotions in strict accordance with the mandates of the guide- book. "It is splendid at least it seems so to me," she said at the first stopping-place. "But the authorities tell us that there is a far finer view about a mile farther on. I am eager to see that, and I am restraining my emotions." [112] When the viewpoint referred to was reached, however, the Boston damsel's emotions took no more violent form of expression than led to her reading aloud from the book. "Oh, this is it; this is it!" she exclaimed in what she probably meant for carefully studied tones of enthusiasm. "Listen to the description: " 'An inferno, swathed in soft celestial fires; a whole chaotic underworld, just emptied of pri- meval floods and waiting for a new creative word; eluding all sense of perspective or dimension, out- stretching the faculty of measurement, overlap- ping the confines of definite apprehension; a boding, terrible thing, unflinchingly real, yet spectral as a dream. " 'The beholder is at first unimpressed by any detail; he is overwhelmed by the ensemble of a stupendous panorama, a thousand square miles in extent, that lies wholly beneath the eye, as if we stood upon a mountain peak instead of the level brink of a fearful chasm in the plateau, whose opposite shore is thirteen miles away. " 'A labyrinth of huge architectural forms, endlessly varied in design, fretted with ornamen- tal devices, festooned with lace-like webs formed of talus from the upper cliffs and painted with 8 [113] JOCELYN WEST every color known to the palette in pure trans- parent tones of marvelous delicacy. Never was picture more harmonious, never flower more ex- quisitely beautiful. It flashes instant communi- cation of all that architecture and painting and music for a thousand years have gropingly striven to express. It is the soul of Michael Angelo and of Beethoven.' "There! Isn't that description sublime and thrilling?" the reader demanded. A number of her associates responded with "Ohs" and "Ahs." Jocelyn and Prescott were standing apart, but within earshot of the reader. Prescott found it difficult, to refrain from smiling. "That woman reminds me of A. B. Frost's pic- ture of the girl that went to the mountain to paint; and then sat down before a magnificent landscape and made a picture of a bunch of violets." "Oh, don't mind her; if she gets her happiness that way, let the poor thing do so. Most women must have their emotions interpreted for them, especially would-be intellectual women. After all, she is more endurable than that young sta- tistician over there, isn't she?" The statistician in question was propounding [114] THE SPELL OF THE CANON data as to the size of the canon its five to twenty-five miles of width; its mile or more of depth; the number of years that had been re- quired to carve it out of the rocks. And when the statistician could be silenced, his place was taken by the amateur geologist, whose sole joy consisted in attempting to name the strata that make up the walls of the canon. With Major Powell's description in front of him he peered into the depths, and insistently gave the entire company the benefit of his discoveries. "There are really only seven distinct strata of rock," he assured them, "though they seem to be divided into so many sections. At the bottom there is a stratum of black gneiss, eight hundred feet in thickness. Above that comes a bed of quartzite, then five hundred feet of sandstone, and then" "Oh, professor, isn't it wonderful," interrupted the girl from Ohio. "Now what stratum is it that makes up the red part of the steep cliff just over there?" This practical question took the geologist quite beyond his depth, and he found refuge in further readings from Powell. And so it went on. But Jocelyn and Prescott [1151 JOCELYN WEST did not mind. They touched hands when they could without being observed, and gave each other companionable nudges, but said little to each other and nothing to their associates. They were themselves too exhilarated and happy to be over- critical of the foibles of their fellow-mortals. But they were glad when the stage reached the bend in the road where they were to descend and take the foot-path along the cliff. No one paid any attention to them, or probably gave them a thought, when they left the stage midway of the journey. Each carried a pack con- sisting of supplies for a short camping trip, wrapped in Navajo blankets. To all appear- ances they were an ordinary couple, prepared to descend the Grand View trail and perhaps to camp over night at the bottom of the canon. As the lovers proceeded now by themselves along the wooded path, they went hand in hand, their spirits keyed high with a sense of excitement and exhilaration. Prescott could not keep his eyes off his companion's face, and he would have stopped every fifty yards to embrace her had she permitted it. But she constantly diverted him by directing his attention to new glimpses of the canon that were revealed at each turn of the path. [1161 THE SPELL OF THE CANON "Hark!" she whispered, as they came out on a point from which tney could look down to the very depths of the great chasm. "Doesn't this make you think of Robert Service's description of the Yukon Valley: "'I've stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow That's plumb full of hush to the brim.' "'Plumb full of hush!' that describes it, doesn't it! It seems to me that no other words of all the volumes that have been written about the canon characterize it quite so well and, of course, these words weren't written about the canon at all. But all great chasms are alike, I suppose; only this is more so." "The words I always think of when I stand beside the canon," said Prescott, "are parts of Kipling's poem, 'The Red Gods Call Me.' Here in this chasm, it seems to me, the red gods might make their final stand against the encroachments of civilized man." "But you do not believe in the red gods, Pres- cott?" "No, but that does not keep me from enjoy- ing poetry that tells about them." Chatting thus, and each from time to tune [117] JOCELYN WEST quoting such snatches of verse as came to mind under stress of emotions evoked by the canon and their own new experience together, they made their way along the path, and came presently to Grand View Point. As they stood at the point near the beginning of the Grand View trail, they clasped hands and were silent. If you have witnessed the panorama of the canon from this point the mere mention of it will bring to your mind such memories as find no adequate expression in words. If you have not seen it, you can at best form but a vague con- ception of its grandeur; and words would be utterly futile to bring it before your mind's eye. Jocelyn and Prescott had both visited the point many times, and to-day the canon, for all its sub- limity, formed but a background for the picture of their thoughts. They themselves were the foreground. The bracing air of the plateau com- bined with the grandeur of the surroundings to stimulate their minds and bodies to the point of elation. They held hands, and felt their pulses beat yet faster. They looked into each other's eyes and laughed like children, for no better rea- son than that they were alone together. Both seemed to have resolved to forget all disagreeable [118] THE SPELL OF THE CANON experiences of the past; to live the day to its full possibilities. They had walked leisurely after leaving the stage, and it was well towards noon when they came to the cliff above the Grand View path. They sat for a time in the shade of the junipers and ate some sandwiches; and they replenished their canteen with a supply of water which must last them until their return to the same spring next day. As they turned to descend the trail, they felt that their real adventure had begun. Each step of the tortuous path seemed to take them farther from the world, and to give them more fully to each other. Wherever possible they walked hand in hand. Prescott's strong arm was extended to support Jocelyn on the steeper declines; and she leaned on it, rejoicing in his strength, though she needed aid in such a journey scarcely more than would a chamois. They stopped occasionally to regard the scenery, and as he stood below her on a steep part of the trail he would now and again put out his arms to embrace her; but she always held him back with a caressing touch which neverthe- less revealed her sinewy strength. [119] JOCELYN WEST "By and by, my beloved; by and by. Let us wait till we come to our castle," she would whis- per with a little laugh. And he would laugh back, release her hands for the moment and go on, his mind aglow with anticipation. About half a mile from the top when a sheer descent of something like two thousand feet had been accomplished they paused at a ledge that seemed to Prescott not different from others above it. But Jocelyn ran ahead and inspected the wall a short distance off to the right of the path. "This is it," she cried excitedly. "Do you see this little cross cut hi the rock? It was made by the priest who first discovered the cave and who told me about it." "You did not come here with the priest?" Prescott asked, with a lover's quick apprehension of jealousy. "Oh, no indeed. The priest was not within a hundred miles of here when I came. He was at the ranch where he still is. I will tell you more about him some day, but we must not let thoughts of such a person mar this occasion. Still, I owe the cave to him. He told me its location, and of this cross that marks the ledge at which you turn from the trail. He used to come here, so he said, [120] THE SPELL OF THE CANON to do penance. He had much need to do penance, I fear. But he has not been in this region for many years; and so far as I am aware no one else so much as knows of the existence of the cave. You see there is nothing to make this ledge seem different from others. The priest must have found the cave quite by accident; although, as you will see, once you start right you can go no- where else." As she spoke she walked along the ledge, which at this point projected fifteen or twenty feet, form- ing a shelf of level rock. Prescott followed, and they were almost immediately out of view of the trail, passing along the rocky shelf, which, fol- lowing the irregular contour of the cliff, wound a serpentine course, with a precipitous or even over- hanging wall above and a sheer descent below. In general the projecting ledge varied from ten to fifty feet in width, and no great mountaineer- ing skill was required to traverse it. But after walking along it perhaps a mile, they came to a point where the cliff turned at a sharp angle, and Prescott saw that the ledge narrowed to a little strip not much more than a yard wide. Jocelyn turned to him. "I hope you have a steady head." [121] JOCELYN WEST "If I had not, I should not be here to affirm or deny it, for I have hunted nearly every variety of mountain sheep and goat in the world, and they have led me over some pretty tough places. But Jocelyn, are you quite sure of your footing on such a path as that? " She laughed. "I was an ibex in some previous incarnation. Watch me." As if impelled by a spirit of recklessness she darted forward and sped along the narrow path with almost the fleetness of a chamois, till she stood poised on the wide terrace just beyond, which marked a point in the rock at which the path if such it could be called turned another corner. Prescott uttered an involuntary exclamation of solicitude, as he watched Jocelyn pass with such seemingly reckless bravado along a path where a misstep would have precipitated her down a sheer descent of four thousand feet. But she had passed to safety in a moment, and he, following with quick, firm stride, could only conjure her not to repeat the dangerous experiment. "But I am really as sure-footed as a bighorn," she protested. "There was not the slightest dan- ger. However, I will go more sedately since you [122] THE SPELL OF THE CANON wish it. There is only one other dangerous point, anyway, and that is just ahead. We shall pass it in a moment, then there is a good wide ledge the rest of the way. But let us pause a moment here, for I have something to show you. "Look," she continued, pointing off across the chasm. "In the wall opposite way over there at that other bend of the cliff is the entrance to the cave. We can't see it from here, for it is just around the bend. But to get to that point, as you see, we must walk almost a mile, clear around this horseshoe curve." The curve in question was one of the innu- merable gulches or alcoves that ramify hi every direction back from the main channel of the canon, giving the great chasm its irregularity and picturesqueness of contour. From the point where Jocelyn and Prescott stood, the conformation of the cliff could be studied with peculiar advantage, as the wall opposite, after sweeping back to form a cul-de-sac, approached again, horseshoe-like; and the point opposite (which might be likened to one end of the horseshoe, while they stood at the other end) was not much over a quarter of a mile distant. Scarcely anywhere in the whole extent of the [1231 JOCELYN WEST great canon are the walls more precipitate than here. And in few places could the geological strata be studied by the casual observer to better advan- tage. The successive layers of rock are almost exactly horizontal; and the ledge on which the lovers stood thus formed a perfectly level path. The explanation of its existence is found simply in the fact that the stratum of rock composing it chanced to be of harder and tougher texture than the next stratum above it. This harder stratum, representing a different geological era, is a red limestone, which Powell, the geologist of the canon, calls the "red wall" limestone stratum. It is almost sixteen hundred feet in thickness, and from top to bottom, at this particular point, it had been cut away to form a wall almost as even and perpendicular as if it had been planed and fashioned by a human being of colossal propor- tions working with chisel and pliimb-line. As your eye follows down that appalling de- clivity, the distance becomes hazy; and markings on the wall are indistinct long before you scan the bottom. For below the wall of red limestone there are four successive formations of strata- seven hundred feet or so of "alcove limestone"; five hundred feet of "cliff and stone"; eight hun- [124] dred feet of "variegated quartzite"; and, finally, down at the depths of the abyss, a "black gneiss" stratum adding another eight hundred feet of hazy distance beneath one's feet. Not all the strata are as precipitous as the red wall stratum on which Jocelyn and Prescott stood. Some layers are carved away, others project slightly, each having yielded more or less to the action of water and rain and wind according to its texture. But the aggregate effect is that of a wall which, ignoring the minor irregularities, may be spoken of as being absolutely precipitous; and the aggregate extent of that wall, stretching down in an appalling, awe-inspiring vertical from the narrow ledge on which the lovers stood to the hazy and vague depths of the canon, is more than four thousand feet; stated otherwise, four-fifths of a mile. Figures give no conception of the sublimity of such distances, as you look down awe-stricken, terrified, into their depths. Nor do comparisons and illustrations greatly aid the imagination. We might estimate, for example, that twenty-odd Niagaras must be heaped one on another to fill the gap between the top of the red limestone wall and the foot of the black gneiss stratum. Or we [125] JOCELYN WEST may note that had Mount Washington been trans- ported and set in this horseshoe gorge, Jocelyn and Prescott, as they stood there on the ledge, would have looked down on its peak. But all such illustrations serve to arouse only in very vague degree the feeling of sublimity, of immensity, of incomprehensibleness that comes to the heart and mind of the spectator who be- holds the majestic scene with his own eyes; who feels its weirdness, its awesomeness, its super- sensuality, if you please, its supernaturalness. Meantime, if, standing on the ledge with Joce- lyn and Prescott, one turns one's eyes upwards, the spectacle is almost equally sublime and fear- compelling. For almost eight hundred feet above the ledge that forms the narrow path, the strata of so-called "banded limestone" rise chiselled and excoriated in layers of varying depth, some strips gray, others bright red in color. The ledges of this stratum have weathered irregularly, so that the wall they form is not merely perpendicular, but in many places overhanging, roofing in, as it were, the ledge along which lies the path to Joce- lyn's cave. As the eye searches still farther above the banded strata, there come to view the strangely [1261 THE SPELL OF THE CANON turreted and columned heights of the so-called "tower limestone" stratum, adding another thou- sand feet to the already stupendous wall, and giving it a finish at once artistic and sublime. The irregular battlements of this overtopping stra- tum might be likened to the battlements that topped the wall of a mediaeval fortress, except that they are chiselled into varied and fantastic shapes. As the sun strikes them the Aubrey lime- stone of which they are composed gleams white as marble, contrasting charmingly with the reds and grays of the lower strata. It was still not long after the mid-day hour when Jocelyn and Prescott stood on the terrace at the bend of the horseshoe, viewing the spectacle afforded by the cliff beyond. At this hour the turrets and towers of the distant portions of the main canon become blended into hazy and ill- defined shapes through lack of shadows to out- line them. The air is clear as crystal, and in look- ing along the great chasm all sense of perspective is lost at a little distance, and peaks that really are only five miles away seem blended with other peaks and cliffs that are in reality perhaps a score of miles beyond them. It requires the purple shadows of the morning [127] JOCELYN WEST or the evening to bring out the contour of the strangely figured and chiselled mountains and val- leys and gorges tessellated spires and excoriated facades that make up the picturesque contour of the canon. Yet it would be paradoxical to de- clare that the sublimity of the spectacle could im- press the beholder more at one hour than at an- other, since at all times it is overwhelming. Jocelyn and Prescott felt themselves profoundly under the influence of the spell of this unimagin- able and incomprehensible grandeur. Even had they been amidst the most prosaic surroundings their spirits would have been keyed to the high- est emotional stress. To be alone together on this eyrie in the sky, amidst the vastness and silence, with the abysmal depths below them, the awe-inspiring heights above, aroused emotions that no words could depict, and to which they themselves did not for the moment seek to give expression except with a mute pressure of the hand. "Come," said Jocelyn presently. "The cave is just across there as I told you a thousand feet or so as the crow flies; but it is a full mile away along the route we must travel, since we are not provided with wings or aeroplanes. I will lead the way." '[128] THE SPELL OF THE CANON "Please be careful," pleaded Prescott, as he saw her start along the path which for a few yards from the point on which they had stopped was even narrower than the fearsome ledge just traversed. "Never fear," she replied coolly; and in a mo- ment she had passed along the fifty feet or so of ledge less than a yard wide and had come to the relatively broad stretch beyond. A moment later Prescott was at her side. "That was the last danger point," she assured him. "The ledge is eight or ten feet wide all the rest of the way about the horseshoe." They walked side by side now, holding hands as before, for the most part silent, overcome by the strangeness of their presence together, amidst such surroundings, under such conditions. They progressed rapidly, for both were eager to reach the cave which constituted the goal of their jour- ney. As they came about the huge curve of the horseshoe they were presently traversing the face of the cliff which they had just inspected, and looking across at the point where they had stopped, with its adjoining stretch of narrow path. Soon they came to the opposite point the other end of the horseshoe just beyond which, Jocelyn had said, the cave entrance lay. 9 [ 129 1 JOCELYN WEST As they rounded the corner, the ledge on which they were walking broadened to a little plateau twenty or thirty feet in width, and came to an abrupt termination. Just where it stopped, or blended with the cliff wall beyond, a large clump of juniper bushes had found foothold, and this side of the bushes appeared an opening, only six or eight feet across, which was obviously the cave entrance. "Here it is," Jocelyn cried exultantly; and running forward she turned abruptly into the opening and disappeared from Prescott's view. [130] CHAPTER XI JOCELYN'S CAVE In an instant Prescott had followed Jocelyn into the cave. But for a few moments he could see nothing, coming thus suddenly into the rela- tively gloomy cavern, out of the brilliant glow of daylight. Groping about, his hand came in con- tact with Jocelyn's. He seized it and attempted to draw her towards him; but she eluded him with a laugh. "Not yet; not yet"; she cried. "I wish you to inspect our castle." It was in reality fairly light within the cave, once the eyes became accustomed to it, and in a few moments its occupants could distinguish everything about them. "Well, what do you think of it?" Her voice had a tone of solicitude. "It is a dream. I had no idea it was so large. Why, it is a castle indeed, and ready furnished. That ledge at the entrance is just high enough [131] JOCELYN WEST for a settee on which we can sit while we study the canon and each other. And there at the back of the cave is a terrace that is precisely de- signed for a couch; and here"- She interrupted him, her cheeks aflame, though she hoped the gloom of the cavern would hide her confusion. "We must cut some juniper branches to carpet the ledges. Let us set about it." They had no utensil more suitable than a large pocket-knife, but this sufficed to cut such branches as could not be broken. They had pres- ently piled them deeply on the ledges, and spread over them the Navajo blankets. "Behold! Our castle is furnished," cried Joce- lyn. "Now let us sit here at the entrance, and look out upon our estate. "This is really a pagan throne," she continued when they were seated. "Off there in front of us are all manner of pagan temples. Far to the left are the temples of Zoroaster and Buddha and Brahma and Osiris and Confucius. Here in front are the shrines of Krishna and Rama and Vishnu, and Wotan's Throne, and Angel's Gate. Off to the right are the temples of the Greeks Apollo and Venus and Jupiter and Juno. Oh, they have [ 132 1 JOCELYN'S CAVE exhausted the dictionaries of mythology in nam- ing the countless peaks, and still I suppose only one in a hundred has been given a distinctive title. And so far as I ever heard, our cave has no name at all." "Let us christen it." "Very well. What shall we call it?" "The answer suggests itself. 'Castle Jocelyn,' of course." "Oh, I should much rather name it after you. A man must be lord of the castle, you know." "Perhaps. But he may name the castle after the fair lady of his choice, whom he brings to rule the ruler of the castle. In this case he has already done so." He rose as he spoke and turned towards the mouth of the cave. "Cave, I christen you with the name of the fair Jocelyn," he said gravely. "She will honor you with her presence only for a day; but she will rule the heart and destiny of her fellow- sojourner within your hospitable walls so long as he lives." Jocelyn had also arisen, and she stood looking at Prescott, an expression of solicitude, even of sadness, on her face. [133] JOCELYN WEST "Oh, Prescott, I wonder if these words are a true prophecy. I wonder if we are doing what is right, what is best? " "Dear child," he said, taking her hand. "Do not misunderstand me, Prescott. I think I am very glad to be here. But you cannot won- der if just at the time of taking this critical step there is an undertone of sadness to my happiness. I have acted with deliberation. I do not think I feel that I am doing wrong. I tried very hard to get my freedom; and I could not make it seem right that I should be bound for life because Sefior Madero had not the wish to release me. So I came to you willingly, gladly. Yet I cannot now escape a feeling of apprehension, almost of fear. Oh, Prescott, are you quite sure that we are acting wisely?" He took her in his arms, but she pushed him gently back. "No, Prescott, please. Let us talk about it calmly." "Then sit here at my side, dearest, and let me at least put my arm about you." . "Please do not do even that, Prescott, just yet. Let us be very calm and rational." "You are not quite yourself, Jocelyn. The [134] JOCELYN'S CAVE spell of the canon is on you, and the proximity of all these pagan temples." " Perhaps the canon has something to do with it. But I think it is chiefly those puritanical an- cestors I told you about. I fear they do not ap- prove of my decision of our decision. Truly, Prescott, I feel conscience-stricken even now, out here amidst these wonderful cliffs that should make one forget oneself altogether. If that is so, how shall I feel when I get back to the haunts of people? How can I ever look my old friends in the face?" "Jocelyn, you are excited and just a little morbid. I do not wonder at it. Things have moved rapidly for us during the past four weeks. Do you realize that it was just four weeks ago to-day that I saw you for the first time?" "It seems more like four years. But that it is so short a tune merely makes our decision appear the more dubious." "Do you think you would be likely to decide otherwise if we took more time? You know you would not, Jocelyn. I have loved you from the first moment that I saw you; and I think you cared for me from the first." [135] JOCELYN WEST "I certainly feel as if I had known you for a long time, and as if I should not know you better after years. But is it right that we should yield to our mutual wish to be together, when we can not do so without violating the conventions of so- ciety in the most flagrant way?" "Jocelyn, dear, have we not already decided that question? Did you not clearly decide it last night? I admit that there may be moments of embarrassment in store for us; but shall that possibility outweigh the hours and years of happiness that our mutual relations should give us? "After all, dearest, we are only playing the part of intelligent beings who refuse to be the victims of circumstances. We cannot be married accord- ing to the formula of the man-made code of rules called the law. But in the larger sense we shall be man and wife always. Come, my beloved, let us pledge our faith each to the other, and make our vows of eternal friendship and fealty here at the door of our castle our bridal chamber and in the view of the temples of all the gods of many nations. I do not believe in these gods or in any other, as you know. But I do believe in hon- esty and honor and justice; and I believe in you, [1361 JOCELYN'S CAVE my beloved, and I will teach you to believe in me." "I do believe in you, Prescott, as I believe in no other human being. It is only myself that I doubt. I know that I am acting in accordance with my own wishes, my own desires; and I feel the weight of disapproval of that galaxy of Puri- tan ancestors whose motto, so far as I can learn, has ever been that whatever you desire to do is wrong; the right consisting solely in doing the thing that is disagreeable." "Let us break away from the bondage of those ancestors, Jocelyn. That thing is right which harms no one or which brings in its aggregate effects more happiness than pain. There is no other standard in any broad view of morality. Judged by that standard we are doing right in giving ourselves each to the other. I could wish that we might do this without offending even the conventionalities. But since this may not be, let us repose in the consciousness of our own mutual love and the integrity of our own motives. Come, dearest, let us make a vow a promise each to the other. . Let us pledge ourselves to love and honor each other; to live for each other; to be in the fullest and truest sense man and wife, and [137] JOCELYN WEST to fulfil the duties and obligations of that bond henceforth and forever." He clasped her hands and held them very tenderly. "I pledge and promise you that, Jocelyn; I pledge you to be bound by that vow as firmly as if it had been sworn before a multitude, instead of here in Nature's temple." For several minutes the two stood there with bowed heads, Jocelyn in a sort of religious ecstacy, Prescott bowing in deference to the feelings of his companion. Presently her lips moved, and in low, grave tones she pronounced words which he recognized as the opening stanza of Van Dyke's invocation to the God of the open air. "Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair With flowers beneath, above with starry lights, And set thine altars everywhere, Waiting for worshippers to come to thee In thy great out-of-doors! To thee I turn, to thee I make my prayer, God of the open air." She was silent for a time, though her lips moved. Then very softly she pronounced the closing words of the same poem: [138] JOCELYN'S CAVE "And when at last I can no longer move Among them freely, but must part From the green fields and from the waters clear, Let me not creep Into some darkened room and hide From all that makes the world so bright and dear; But throw the windows wide To welcome in the light; And while I clasp a well-beloved hand, Let me once more have sight Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land, Then gently fall on sleep, And breathe my body back to Nature's care, My spirit out to thee, God of the open air." "Amen," said Prescott reverently. He put his arms about her and she lay in them unresisting; and for the first time their lips met. Then they were seated again on the little throne at the door of the castle, his arms about her. She smiled up at him as a child smiles through its tears when its heart is comforted. But for a long time neither of them broke the silence. Finally Jocelyn began to speak. Her voice was raised scarcely above a whisper, but her words were clearly audible in the midst of the great silence. [139] JOCELYN WEST "I have been thinking of my childhood, Pres- cott; and of my marriage my other marriage. My father died when I was an infant; and my mother, on whom the responsibility of rearing the family of six devolved, was an austere, self-suffi- cient woman, the very type and personification of the Puritan hosts from which she sprang. She was past middle life when I was born, and I don't think I was ever welcome. But she did what she considered to be her duty by me, according to her austere standard. I am afraid I was a self-willed, impetuous child, yet kindness could always rule me. But kindness is not the keynote of the puri- tanical idea of discipline. So the flint of my tem- per was always striking fire against mother's steel; and my childhood was not a happy one. "When I was seventeen Senor Madero came into my life. They were about to send me to college, and I did not wish to go. So I jumped at the possible chance to escape by marrying this gallant, handsome Spaniard. I saw him but a few times before he proposed. He seemed fond of me, and I thought myself madly in love with him. "Of course my mother opposed the match. She had decided that her daughter should never [140] JOCELYN'S CAVE marry. I recall that she told her dearest friend of this decision; and when the friend expostu- lated with her, she ordered her from the room, declaring haughtily that she did not wish to dis- cuss her children with a stranger. But the friend took pity on me, and did me the very doubtful service of providing me a trousseau and letting me get married at her home. Mother, of course, refused to be present. But she afterward became quite reconciled to Juan. "But why should I tell you all this now, my beloved?" " "I love to hear it, dearest; go on." "Well, there is not much more to tell. But what there is is very important from my stand- point. Juan and I got along well enough for a time. I think he admired my independent spirit, and I was proud of his good looks and his gallant manner. But one day I found some letters that opened chapters of his history I had never dreamed of or suspected. To make a long story short, I learned that an alleged business trip made by my husband to England had really been spent with a woman in Paris." "But Jocelyn," Prescott interrupted. "This would give you cause for divorce." [1411 JOCELYN WEST "It might have done so. I intended that it should. I left the ranch and went at once to San Francisco, declaring I would never return, but will you believe it my Puritan mother had by this tune become a champion of my husband. She urged me to return to him; and she made things so uncomfortable for me that when Juan finally came, full of protestations of repentance and affection, I was persuaded to go back with him. "This virtual condoning of his offences, so the lawyers assure me, bars me from using his mis- conduct as a plea for divorce. I remained only a few days at the ranch the second time, for I found that I utterly loathed the thought of living with him now; but the fact that I did return and remained overnight doomed me to perpetual bondage." "Let us not think about it any longer, dear Jocelyn. It is better forgotten." "You are right, Prescott dear. And now that I have told you about it I feel that I can at least dismiss it all from my mind for the present. Prob- ably the recollection of it all is a toll that those Puritan ancestors have exacted. But now I feel that the Spanish ones are demanding a hearing. [142] JOCELYN'S CAVE You shall see me in quite another mood presently. "I seem to myself to represent two quite dif- ferent persons at different tunes. I have some- times dramatized my two selves, calling one of them 'Natura,' because of her natural, sponta- neous, pleasure-loving disposition; and the other 'Aspera/ because of her primness, prudery, puritanicalism in a word, her asperity of char- acter." "We are all dual, or even more complex in character, my beloved. I, for example, have also sometimes opposed my two selves one to the other. In particular I have done so in thinking about you. One of my selves my truest self, I like to believe loves you for your mental traits, your spirituality. Him I call 'Intellecto.' He is in love with Aspera. "But my alter-ego entertains for you a pri- meval love. Him I call ' Primitive ' ; and, adopting your nomenclature, he is obviously in love with Natura." "Oh, that is delightful," cried Jocelyn, spring- ing to her feet. "I feel as if we had just been in- troduced; and by way of salutation, Natura will give Primitivo a kiss; and Aspera will brew In- tellecto a cup of tea." [1431 JOCELYN WEST She leaned over and brushed her lips against his, and sprang away laughing. "I am afraid that was Aspera, not Natura," he laughed. "Well, Natura will be with us by and by; so now let us to our tea-making." They made a fire of some juniper limbs and the roots of an old cedar, just within the mouth of the cave, where a crevice formed a sort of natural chimney. The water was soon boiling in the little camp-kettle which was the only cooking-utensil they had brought. Collapsible cups were put in requisition; and the supply of sandwiches spread out on a cover laid across a projecting ledge. Soon they were partaking of the simple repast; and moment by moment Jocelyn's spirits were obviously in the ascendent. Before they had finished, her morbidness of the afternoon had vanished altogether. Presently she sprang to her feet, and pointed off to the west. "Look, Prescott, isn't it glorious!" The sunset clouds were forming in great masses of crimson and purple, that matched the hues of the towers and battlements and cliffs of the canon itself, which had taken on new forms and become [144] differentiated into a thousand new shapes as the slanting rays of the setting sun threw their peaks into high relief and bathed their bases in ever- ascending purple shadows. The lovers stood together far out at the edge of the terrace, and watched the gorgeous spec- tacle in silence, but with elation of spirit. "See how the whole lower part of the canon is bathed almost in darkness," he said. "One gets a more vivid sense of the distances now. It is a dizzy height, is it not? See that vulture wheel- ing about away off there below us. It is a big bird, but it is so far down that it looks no bigger than a swallow; yet if one were looking at it from the level of the river it would seem high in air. Jocelyn stooped and took up a large piece of stone that lay on the terrace. She tossed it as far out as she could, and they watched it fall. It seemed as if a full minute must have elapsed before the falling stone was finally invisible in the dis- tance far below them, on the way to the river. "I wonder just what would happen if one were to fall over?" Prescott laughed. "I suspect that one might suffer a broken bone or two." "Don't be flippant, Mr. Intellecto. I am aware 10 [ 145 ] that he would suffer not only one or two broken bones, but one or two hundred of them however many there are crushed and crumbled into frag- ments. But what I wish to know is, How soon would one lose consciousness? Would one know one was falling all the way during the minute or two that it would take to reach the bottom? That would be frightful." "Fortunately Nature is more kind. A falling man loses consciousness in a few seconds. If one were to fall from here, one would become un- conscious before the fatal journey had fairly begun. I know a guide in the Alps who fell a thousand feet or so a mere nothing as compared with this and who lived to tell the tale, thanks to a deep bed of soft snow that happened to claim him. But he told me that he remembered noth- ing except that the rope broke and he started to fall." "Then if one were to walk in one's sleep, and fall from this ledge, one would never even awaken long enough to know one's fate?" ' ' Presumably not. ' ' "It would be an easy and a pleasant way to die Hark! What was that?" Both turned their heads, startled; for there [146] JOCELYN'S CAVE came echoing along the wall of the canon the re- port of a series of sharp explosions, like the dis- charge of a repeating rifle. "What can it be?" "I can't imagine, for it sounded not far away." "Do you go and see, while I make my toilet for the evening Natura's toilet," she added with a merry, frolicsome laugh as she darted into the cave. [147] CHAPTER XII i SUNSET AND EVENING STAR As Prescott strolled along the ledge, field-glass in hand, his attention was attracted by a series of little clouds of dust that were curling up here and there from the wall of the cliff opposite. His eyes following down into the chasm, he saw well towards the bottom perhaps three thousand feet below a larger cloud seeming to indicate the location of some fallen mass. He brought his glass to bear on this, then raised it perpendicularly, along the wall of the cliff, from one dust cloud to another, each evi- dently induced by the impact of some falling body, since they were all in the same vertical line. At last his glass was raised to the level of the path opposite, and there he saw something that caused him to start and stand transfixed. "My God," he gasped. "It isn't possible!" He scrutinized the cliff with horrified atten- tion. There was no mistaking the meaning of what he saw. At the point just opposite, where [148] SUNSET AND EVENING STAR the horseshoe bend of the cliff wall brought it nearest to the ledge where he stood, the outjut- ting ledge that constituted the path along which he and Jocelyn had come that afternoon had been fractured torn away and in place of the path there now yawned for the space of fifty yards or so a ragged surface of fractured rock, as perpen- dicular and as impassable as the main cliff wall. It was the ledge of rock constituting the nar- rowest part of the path that had fallen. The full meaning of the frightful catastrophe came instantly to Prescott's consciousness. The ledge that had fallen had been the only possible way of approach to the cave. The yawning chasm that now took its place stood as an impassable barrier between the cave and the outer world. The occupants of the cave were prisoners. Mingled with Prescott's horror at the realiza- tion of this, came an instant sense of wonderment as to how the catastrophe had happened. But even as he looked the question was answered. Just beyond where the fracture occurred, the path turned abruptly about the corner of the cliff, and the other narrow portion of the path was visible for some distance, following the main line of the canon wall. [149] JOCELYN WEST Now there suddenly appeared a series of puffs of smoke running in succession along the path for some distance beyond the bend in the wall ex- actly at the narrow portion which Jocelyn had crossed at such reckless speed. Each puff of smoke was accompanied by the tearing loose of a mass of rock which was pre- cipitated into the depths of the canon. In a second or two there came the sound of a series of explosions, like those that had startled Prescott and Jocelyn as they stood at the mouth of the cave. Evidently a series of blasting charges of dynamite had been placed in the path and ex- ploded in succession. As the sounds died away, and the smoke and dust subsided, Prescott saw that a second portion of the path had been oblit- erated. And now on the uninjured portion of the ledge beyond the location of the explosion, Prescott saw the figure of a man obviously the author of the catastrophe. Instantly he divined that it was Juan Madero. Prescott watched him through the glass and the whole diabolical plot was at once clear to him. Madero had followed his wife; had dogged their footsteps; traced them to the canon; and [1501 SUNSET AND EVENING STAR now had destroyed with a few charges of dyna- mite the ledge that afforded the only possible footpath, thus making their escape impossible. They were absolutely, hopelessly entrapped. Their arcadian cave entombed them now as inex- orably as if it were the bottom of a mine the en- trance to which had fallen in. Prescott glanced instinctively upward along the expanse of the cliff. It rose above him for two thousand feet, impassable as a wall. Below, the descent was no less precipitous. As Prescott regarded the cliffs that now became prison walls in very fact, his heart alternately pounded tumultuously and seemed to stand still. "Good God, what a revenge!" he gasped. For some minutes he stood there trying to take full account of the conditions. The more he thought, the more utterly hopeless seemed the situation. No one had known they were coming to the cave, so no one would miss them or search for them. In all human probability their plight would never be known to anyone. But even if it were known, and an attempt were made to rescue them, what could be done? [151] JOCELYN WEST It would be as impossible for anyone to reach them as for them to get to the outer world. A company of engineers would be required to build a passable causeway across the devastated path; and, even were these at hand, Jocelyn and he would die of thirst before the rescue could be effected. As he turned over in his mind every possible clue that offered a chance of escape, and dismissed one after another, the appalling conclusion came home to him with a force of inescapable, inexor- able truth: Madero's revenge was absolutely com- plete. His victims were doomed to death. The cave was destined to be the tomb of the occu- pants who had come to its door so joyously. Nor could the execution of the death sentence however carried out be long delayed; for, so Prescott at once reflected, they had only a small canteen of water, and within twenty-four hours the pangs of thirst must begin to torment them. But Prescott instantly determined that Joce- lyn should not suffer thus. Then swiftly came the thought that she must not suffer at all must not know. "Thank God I alone have discovered this," he murmured. "She shall never know it. To-night she shall be happy supremely happy. [152] SUNSET AND EVENING STAR She shall go to sleep supposing that all is well with her; and before she awakens" He shuddered at the thought; but his mind did not waver. Indeed, this thought that Jocelyn must not know now took full possession of him, His own fate seemed of subordinate consequence, in com- parison with the desire that his loved one should not suffer. He, too, must die, but the last hours of his life should be devoted not to regret or lamentations, but to playing a part that would result in shielding Jocelyn from knowledge of the fate into which he had unwittingly betrayed her. This thought uppermost in his mind, Prescott made his way back towards the cave. As he stood at the point where the bend in the path brought him to the ledge in front of the cave, he paused for a moment and looked off to the west, where the sun was just setting behind the cliffs. It was the last sunset that he would ever see. The thought came to him with bitterness, with a sense of revolt against the hardness of his fate. Life had never before seemed so sweet to him as that day. And now, in the very hour of the su- [153] JOCELYN WEST preme fruition of his desires, he was doomed to die; to die by his own hand. And Jocelyn, the being he loved as he had loved nothing else in his whole world Jocelyn must die by his hand. His spirit revolted at the hardness of his fate. But presently he straightened himself, clenched his fists, and set his teeth together. Yes, this was hard; but he would prove equal to the needs of this bitter hour. Never yet had he turned his back to the enemy or shown the white feather. Now in this su- preme test he would not be found wanting. He would carry out the awful sentence thus imposed upon him; do it calmly, without flinching. And Jocelyn Jocelyn should never know. As he turned the corner bringing him to the mouth of the cave, the first star appeared just above the cliff off to the east. He stood for a moment gazing at it, and the words of Tennyson came to his lips: "'Sunset and Evening Star, And one clear call for me, And may there be no moaning at the bar When I put out to sea.'" "No moaning at the bar." There should be [154] SUNSET AND EVENING STAR no moaning, no note of regret. The game was played won and lost. The end was at hand. The time had come for a display of courage and not for lamentations. Some lines of Emerson came to his mind, as, still looking towards the sky, he noted the shining forth of one star after another: "Teach me your mood, patient stars That nightly climb the distant sky, Leaving no trace, no futile scars, No wound unhealed, no fear to die." "No fear to die." He repeated the phrase over and over. He had often said that he did not fear death. He would prove it now that death was imminent. He would put in practice the lesson of the stars. And Jocelyn sweet Jocelyn she must not, should not know! [155] CHAPTER XIII NATURA AND PRIMITIVO As Prescott came to the cave entrance, he made a supreme effort to control his manner and voice, that he might betray nothing of what he had seen. Fortunately, the cave was almost dark, for they had hung a blanket at the entrance, and the em- bers of the cedar roots furnished only a faint glow. But his apprehension was in any event ground- less, for Jocelyn was too much excited to be crit- ical of his appearance or words. "It was some hunter up on the cliff, shooting at a deer or signaling to some one, I fancy," he said with attempted nonchalance. "Anyhow, it doesn't concern us." She accepted the explanation without seeming to give it a thought. "Come," she said, "let us go out on the ledge and look at the stars." Prescott was glad of the opportunity to collect [156] NATURA AND PRIMITIVO his thoughts and formulate his plans. They were silent for a time, Jocelyn sitting with her arms clasped about one knee, her head thrown back. Presently he leaned softly over and kissed her forehead. "Oh, Prescott, your lips are cold," she cried banteringly. "I am excited, dearest; who would not be, out here alone in the sky with you!" "I, too, am excited, Prescott; but I don't be- lieve my lips are cold. Let me see." She sprang to her feet and threw her arms about his neck. Hei sinuous form moulded itself against him and his arms went about her instinctively. A wave of passion suffused him, and he forgot all else but the enticing figure that he held in his arms. His lips met hers and clung to them. "Ah, now your lips are warm, dearest," she laughed. "Now release me. Let us go into our castle and I will sing for you." He lifted the blanket and they went inside. "Put some more roots on the fire," she sug- gested. "I must have enough light to see you, my beloved." "With his arm about her they crossed the cave. "Now you sit at that end of the couch, and I [157] JOCELYN WEST will sit at this, so that we can see each other, and I will sing you a song. "You remember the poem you wrote me, about the kiss? Well, I set it to music, and I am going to sing it for you." In a low, sweet voice she began, and he did not interrupt her as she sang verse after verse. She paused, however, as she came to the last. "Now give particular attention to this verse, Prescott dear." Then she sang: "Yet I that have striven to win a name Through many a task that the soul equips For higher flights I would forfeit fame, I would barter each prize of the whole world-game For the touch of one woman's lips." As she finished, she crept forward along the couch, and came close to her lover, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Did you really mean the last of that, Pres- cott?" she asked earnestly. "Would you really sacrifice everything for my lips for me?" The words "God knows I have done so," came to his mind, but remained unuttered. Instead he said gravely: [158] NATURA AND PRIMITIVO "Most assuredly I would, my beloved." "You would give up everything for me and do it gladly?" "Without a twinge of regret, my own." He said the words with an attempt at jocular- ity. But his voice was very grave. Jocelyn nestled closer, and his arms closed about her tenderly, but for a time he said nothing more. He was running over the situation in his mind. Little had he thought when he wrote those words that he would ever be called upon to pay the price in so literal, so tragic a sense. Could he say now, to himself, that he would pay gladly, without a twinge of regret? The thing was too new, too near, too terrible to be de- cided. Who could weigh and evaluate the emo- tions? Let it suffice that he would pay resolutely, without murmuring, without flinching and with- out letting Jocelyn know. After all, we face the certainty of ultimate death every hour of our lives, and give it no thought. Death is terrible and terrifying only when we know that the hour of its coming is at hand. Why should that make any difference? "Sufficient unto the day" he had quoted the [159] JOCELYN WEST phrase a thousand times. Could he not live up to the tenets of his own philosophy? As if Jocelyn read his thoughts, she whispered, banteringly, "Why are you so sober, so unre- sponsive? Is not this the hour we have long awaited?" "I was thinking of the future, dearest." "Of the future? There is no future. To-day alone exists. What is here and now we know; all the future is a phantom. To-morrow never comes; or if it should come what then? Is it not written 'To-morrow we may die'?" She laughed aloud. "You see I give you back your preachments, Mr. Philosopher. Oh, I have been an apt pupil, have I not? So to-night I will teach the master even I; I will teach him the art of loving. What care we for the future? For us, now, there is no to-morrow. We are here close to the earth and the sky here together. We have each other and all the world is shut out from us. Only we two exist in the world to-night, my beloved; only we two Primitive and Natura, the first man and the first woman. The universe is ours, and there is none to dispute it." She nestled closer and closer as she prattled [160] on. Her cheeks were flushed; her long hair hung in waves down her back; her hands caressed her lover's cheek, his hair; her lips sought his again and again. Soon she had no cause to complain of his cold- ness. With responsive impulse, his hands alter- nately caressed the outline of her figure, and folded her in an embrace that threatened to crush and smother her. Yet even in that moment the sobering thought came to him that this supple form would soon be cold and stark in death. "Release me for a moment, Prescott, and I will dance for you." She sprang back, and her figure was revealed in the garish light of the cedar embers. As she began to dance, the soft folds of her garment floated hither and thither, alternately enwrap- ping and unfolding to reveal a flashing glimpse of her limbs. As Prescott regarded her, his emotions were keyed to the breaking-point. He was alternately hot and cold. A wave of passion succeeded to a flash of apprehension of recollection; and he passed from the heights to the depths of emo- tional being in an instant. 11 [ 161 ] JOCELYN WEST As he regarded with the passion of the lover the glow of her cheek, the sparkle of her eyes, there came before his mental vision a counter- image of the pallid visage, with staring sockets, into which this beauteous apparition was destined to be transformed and at his hands before an- other night should come. He banished this unwelcome vision with an effort of will, and gave himself over to the sensu- ous emotions of the hour. "Sufficient unto the day," he muttered over and over. But scarcely had he banished the gruesome vision before another came to take its place. The bed of coals and flickering embers at the mouth of the cave, which lit up the face of the dancer and added to its alluring glow and to the seduc- tive pinkness of the half-revealed flesh, cast also a shadow that everywhere followed the sinuous figure like a weird and contorted ghost, fantas- tically beckoning from the broken surface of the cave wall behind her. "Ghosts and apparitions all my life I have denied them," he whispered to himself. "Yet they always follow and mock me. The Egyptians were right when they brought the mummy to the [162] NATURA AND PRIMIT1VO feast; had they not brought him he would have come unbidden." He shrugged his shoulders, gripped his hands, shut his teeth tightly together. "A curse on the ghosts and mummies," he muttered. "Am I to be their victim hi this hour; I, who have always denied and defied them? No; I will banish them. Sufficient unto the day. This is my hour, the hour. No ghosts, no appari- tions shall rob me shall rob us of its full frui- tion." He rose to his feet with a gesture of impatience, as if he would challenge the ghosts to physical combat. Then he folded his arms, fixed his eyes full on the face of the dancer, and by an effort of will locked every mental portal against the in- trusion of any unbidden ghost. The atmosphere of the night took possession of him. He felt himself alone in the world with Jocelyn with Natura. She and he were indeed the first woman and the first man; and this was their bridal night. Surely she was good to look upon good to possess. She was poising before him in one provocative attitude after another; dancing with entire aban- don. Now she came close beside him, peering [163] JOCELYN WEST into his eyes through half-closed lids; her lips parted, her hot breath fanning his cheeks. Then, just as he clutched at her, she darted back, with a gesture that allured even while it repelled, and with a little laugh that made him tingle to his finger tips. Slowly she came across the cave, with body swaying in long rhythmic circles, her feet dragging with a languorous motion that was the very per- sonification of passion. Then she suddenly sprang forward, panther- like, her body tense, her eyes flashing, every muscle aquiver, until she almost touched him; when, poising, she slowly spread her arms carry- ing the garment until her figure stood revealed in all its sinuousness, rigid yet yielding. One mo- ment the figure stood there, the chaste statue of Diana, a thing of marble. The next moment, bathed in the glow of the red light, it was a Gala- tea come to life, palpitant with excitement, pas- sion, expectation. Fresco tt's breath came in gasps; his blood was at fever heat; he caught the soft, yielding figure in his arms and held it close. [164] CHAPTER XIV ASPERA AND INTELLECT It was well towards midnight when Prescott suddenly became conscious that light was stream- ing into the cave. He sat up and stared about, for the moment scarcely realizing where he was. He stretched out his hand and found himself alone. An instant later the blanket was fully removed from the mouth of the cave, and Joce- lyn's figure appeared silhouetted against the moon- lit sky. Prescott sprang to his feet and hastened to her side. "I must have been asleep," he murmured, still in confusion. " Asleep? I should say you had. Why, for two hours you have been sleeping like a babe and I have kept ever so still for fear of awaking you. But when I saw the moon shining through a crack in our door, I came to have a look at the canon by moonlight. Isn't it wonderful?" [165] JOCELYN WEST "It is glorious. And to think that we are here alone in the midst of it, shut out from the world." He had put his arm about Jocelyn, and now she felt a sudden spasmodic clutch as he ceased speaking. In his half-dazed condition, the truth of their situation had been quite forgotten. Now of a sudden it came home to him, and a great load of apprehension seemed instantly to weigh on his heart. The eerie spaces of the canon, which at first glimpse had seemed a fairyland, now became suddenly transformed into a ghost-haunted valley of Despond. He barely suppressed a cry of horror. But he braced himself in time and, stooping over, kissed Jocelyn's forehead. "Oh, my beloved," he said, striving to hide his confusion; "to think that we are here together." "It is divine, Prescott; and most wonderful of all here in the moonlight. Doesn't it all seem far away from everything? Surely there are no other beings in the world but you and me. We are the first man and woman, Intellect mio, and all the universe is ours. Even the moon and the stars," she added softly, stretching up her arms. [166] ASPERA AND INTELLECTO "And the earth and the waters under the earth," he said solemnly, responding to her mood. "Let us sit here in the moonlight, Prescott dear, and I will sing to you again." The two sat on a ledge just at the mouth of the cave, where the moonlight fell full upon them. "I want to sing you an old Spanish song that I learned when I was a child long before I knew what it meant. It was a weird, half-funereal mel- ody that appealed to my romantic spirit when I only half understood the words. Indeed, I think I never quite fully understood the words till now. Shall I sing it?" "Of course you shall, Aspera mia." "I once made a translation of the words, and I will sing these, as you might not understand the Spanish, and I want you to know just what the song says. It is called 'Love Justifies,' and there is a question-mark after the word in the original. You may tell me whether the question-mark should be there when I am through." In a slow measure that was almost a chant, Jocelyn began. The words of the song ran thus: [167] JOCELYN WEST "'Love justifies; Surely love justifies,' Half doubting, half in ecstasy, As if a questioning voice it heard, A fond heart cries. 'Nay all too feeble is the word,' Said one that kissed the sweet eyes blurred With tears: 'Love glorifies that memory; Love sanctifies.'" Prescott regarded the singer with ineffable tenderness. As she finished, he stroked her hair softly and exclaimed: "In very truth it is so, my child; Love does glorify and sanctify" "But there is another stanza, dearest; listen to it before you decide." Again she sang; this time in a more plaintive tone, in an even slower measure, and with an almost mournful cadence: "The years abide; Murmurs life's evening tide. Love that erstwhile did mask As born of heaven, to live for aye , Long since has died. A heart that stranger is to ecstasy Clings to its memories helplessly And hopelessly; nor dares to ask If love were justified." [168] ASPERA AND INTELLECTO As Jocelyn finished the song, she slipped quickly from the ledge on which they were sitting, and knelt in front of Prescott, with her hands in his lap. "Oh, Prescott, will it be like that with us?" she whispered. He held her hands in his and looked down into her eyes devoutly. "I shall love you to the last hour of my life," he said. "Are you sure?" "Yes, darling, I am sure." The tragic humor of the appeal and reply went to his heart, and his features were drawn in a tense grim smile; but she felt only his strong arms about her, and his lips caressing her hair. "To the last hour of your life," she repeated. "Swear it, Prescott. Swear that it shall be so." "I swear it." For some minutes she was silent. Prescott gazed at her devoutly, his heart filled with strange emotions. Presently she raised her head and smiled up at him. "I know that I am foolish, Prescott darling; [169] JOCELYN WEST but you will forgive me my folly this once, will you not?" She nestled beside him. "Oh, Prescott, I was so frightened." "Frightened, my child?" "Yes, Prescott, while you were asleep. I seemed to fear my own mind, my own shadow. I had a haunting dread of some impending evil that seemed all the more terrible because it was ill-defined. It seemed to me that every one who would ever see me anywhere would know. That is nonsense, I understand, yet I could not escape the feeling; and after all, apparitions conjured up by the mind are our worst enemies because we can nowhere escape them." "Reasoned like a philosopher, dear Jocelyn. Now, like a philosopher, you must go one step further and lay the ghosts your imagination has summoned." "I have tried to banish them, but they refuse to go. And, for a time, they were very real and utterly terrifying, I assure you. I lay awake a long tune, while you were sleeping like a child, and my thoughts taunted and jibed at me, say- ing such things as I cannot bear to recall, much less to repeat." [170] ASPERA AND INTELLECTO "Why did you not awaken me, dear Jocelyn? I would have put my arms about you, and kissed away your fears." . "I dared not do even that. For in my fright it seemed to me as if you also might taunt me if I appealed to you." "Jocelyn!" "Forgive me, Prescott. I know better than that, of course, now that I am fully awake; but in the dark there it seemed to me that I was quite friendless, quite alone in the world, and that all things and all men must be leagued against me. It was terrible." "Jocelyn, dearest Jocelyn! Let us have done with such morbid reminiscences. See! This is my answer. I hold you in my arms, I kiss your eyes, your cheeks, your lips; and I call you now what my heart has long wished to call you wife." He repeated softly: "Jocelyn, my companion, my wife now and for all time." "Oh, Prescott, I know it cannot be; yet your words bring consolation. They enable me al- most to forget. For the moment, at any rate, they exorcise the ghosts. " Then she nestled back and gave a sigh of con- tentment. [171] JOCELYN WEST "There, dearest, forgive me, won't you? I will try not to have any such foolish thoughts again. I know no harm can come to me. Hold me close, and let us watch for the good fairies to come tripping up out of the canon. I will try to believe that they are guarding us to-night." Again Prescott felt that strange clutching at his heart; but he only held her closer and stroked her cheek and hair, while his thoughts played sad tricks with him in spite of his resolve to think only of the present. For an hour or so they sat thus, scarcely speak- ing. But at last she said: "I am afraid I am getting sleepy, dearest." "Well, it is time to sleep, my own." He arose without letting her out of his arms, and carried her into the cave and to the couch. Then he lay beside her and held her in his arms. "To think that we are here together, Prescott. I am glad; yes, I am truly glad. I have not been so happy since I was a child; and you must not mind if my happiness seems tinged with sadness; great happiness always is, I think. I could almost wish that I might die to-night; for it seems as if there could never be another quite so happy. There will be so many things to harrass one when [172] ASPERA AND INTELLECTO we get back into the big world of people. But I only ask that when the time does come, I may die in your arms. I only ask that you will go on loving me as long as I live; and that in my last hour you may hold me in your arms, as you are holding me now." "It shall be so, dearest; I swear it." "I believe you, Prescott. I believe that my prayer will be answered. And now, good night, darling; I am so sleepy." She nestled closer, her cheek against his, their arms intertwined. Soon her soft breathing told that she was sleep- ing as placidly as a child. [173] CHAPTER XV PRESCOTT'S VIGIL Physicians and psychologists are fond of assur- ing us that death is a wholly natural phenomenon; and that for the most part dying men sink to rest with as little apprehension and as slight men- tal disturbance as accompanies falling asleep. Be that as it may, strange and varied thoughts come to the mind of a man who, in perfect health, is condemned to die a death of violence. Doubt- less each individual condemned man passes the last night of his life in so far as he is not sleeping with a different play of emotions and thoughts, in accordance with his past life, his temperament, and his belief or non-belief in a life beyond the grave. Prescott Knight was a man of exceptional mentality; of overmastering will-power; of ac- knowledged bravery. His life had been in no very marked respect different from that of thou- sands of other men of culture and education, who [174] PRESCOTT'S VIGIL have gone forth to see the world, and who have tested most of its illusions. He was a man who had lived a strictly law- abiding life. Unless his infatuation for Jocelyn, with its denouement, be so accounted, he had in- fringed no law, nor imposed on any man's right. But his ethical sense, strongly developed as it was, had no religious foundation. He was one of the few men who have utterly freed themselves from superstition; who frankly call themselves atheists; and who have not even a glimmering doubt that this life is the only life to which human beings are destined. These facts stated, the nature of his medita- tions during the hours of that last night, while Jocelyn lay asleep, may be fairly judged, at least as to their main features. There was no element of doubt in his mind that when his life and that of Jocelyn were blotted out, they would be blotted out forever. He had no belief in any supernat- ural power to whom he might appeal for aid here or mercy in the future. His spirit rebelled at first against the thought of death, simply because he felt that it would be good to live, now that he had found a companion whose affection might give life new meanings. [175] JOCELYN WEST But a mind long trained to yield to the inevi- table led him now to accept the fate that had been doled out to him; to accept it without moaning or malediction. Not without regret, surely; but with the resignation of a philosopher. The thought that was uppermost in his mind after Jocelyn had fallen asleep, was one of thank- fulness that he had managed to carry through his part without letting her so much as suspect their danger nay, their doom. Not that he had a doubt that she would have met it bravely, hero- ically; but to spare her the agony of apprehension seemed to him the finest tribute his love could pay her. Now this had been accomplished. Jocelyn's slumber was profound and undis- turbed. She had fallen asleep with anticipations of awakening to a happy morrow. It was a hard fate which had decreed that he, who loved her better than anything else on earth, must be her executioner. But the only morsel of comfort that remained came with the knowledge that she would die in her sleep. At first he was disposed to consummate the tragedy at once. But there came over him the desire to look once more upon the face of his loved one an absurd desire, he told himself; for what [176] PRESCOTT'S VIGIL could it matter since both their lives were to be blotted out together? Yet this desire sufficed to make him delay. He decided to wait for the morning. Even should he fall asleep he felt cer- tain that he would awaken in time, as he was a life-long early riser, while he recalled that Joce- lyn had said that she usually slept till late. These trivialities yet very practical and im- portant from his present standpoint occupied Prescott's mind, and were weighed and considered as calmly as if they concerned a mere matter of the time of breaking camp to begin an ordinary day's journey, instead of the terminating of two human lives. Having decided to wait till morning, he let his thoughts wander whithersoever they might. At times his mind seemed calm and clear; again full of fantastic conceptions. He reviewed his whole life in retrospect. Inci- dents of his boyhood that had probably not been recalled for many years came before his mental vision with the clearness and realism of the events of yesterday. In particular there seemed to linger in his mind the recollection of the first corpse he had ever seen. It was that of a playmate who had been drowned. He saw the body now, as it 12 [177] JOCELYN WEST had been raised from the watery depths lank and pale and ghastly. His own face would look like that to-morrow his face and Jocelyn's. They were to die at dawn; he must be his own executioner and hers. They must die just when life had begun to be worth living but there! Let such thoughts pass. He took " up again the retrospect of his life. But instantly there flashed into view a picture of the funeral ceremony over the boy who had been drowned. This suggestion of the church recalled, by a natural association of ideas, the Sunday-school which he had attended in common with all the other boys of the village. A medley of texts came to his mind; all of a sinister tenor. "An eye for an eye"; "Whatsoever ye sow, the same shall ye reap"; "Can you gather grapes from thorns or figs from thistles?" "The wages of sin is death." The wages of sin is death. He was about to pay that fatal wage. Yet had he sinned in any such vital sense? His mental verdict repudiated the idea, almost angrily. Had he not desired to make Jocelyn his wife? Had she not been bound by [178] PRESCOTT'S VIGIL foolish laws that his intelligence repudiated? Was she not the victim of cruel circumstances rather than a sinner? But why follow up that strain of thought? What after all is death? Is it not something that comes to sinner and saint alike? And even so, is it after all an evil? Byron's cynical lines came to his mind. He repeated them softly: "Count o'er the pleasures thou hast known, Count o'er thine hours from sorrow free; And know, whatever thou hast been, 'Tis something better not to be." Then the equally pessimistic lines of Shelley rehearsed themselves in his mind, and he whis- pered them: "Where nothing is, and all things seem, And we the shadows of a dream It is an eerie thought, and yet Pleasant if you consider it, To think that death itself must be, Like all the rest a mockery." A bitter mockery, perhaps; yet after all as- suredly a mockery. How little we regard it as it concerns the beings [1791 JOCELYN WEST of the past. Does anyone feel compunction, for example, about disturbing the remains of an Egyptian mummy? Or consider the fossil creature whose bones he had noted projecting from the walls of this very cave. Groping along the walls with his hand he could touch it. The name some one had given the beast Pterodactylis lamarckiana came into his mind. The creature of whose skeleton it was a part had died, perhaps, half a million years ago. But beyond peradventure, when it had lived, life had been dear to it; to the beast itself, its own life was the one great desideratum; its own death the one great central world tragedy. What more did his own death matter? Pres- cott asked himself. Half a million years from now, perchance, some naturalists might find his bones his bones and Jocelyn's in the strata of the sometime canon; and a moment of surprise and pleasure of discovery would be the only emotion evoked. But that thought did not serve for long to banish the feeling of tension from his heart, as he faced the tragedy the hour for which came mo- mentarily nearer. But pshaw! Had he not the power of will to .[180] PRESCOTT'S VIGIL banish such thoughts and forget all that? He would see. So he strove to forget everything except the salient fact that Jocelyn was lying in his arms asleep; Jocelyn whom he loved who loved him. They had pledged to live each for the other; to love and cherish each other as if they were man and wife. Nay, in the fullest and best sense they were man and wife. For all the future he would be true to her. He would give no thought to any other woman; would never for an instant He was startled into full consciousness again by the soft brushing of a bat's wing against his face. But only for a moment. He drew a corner of the blanket over Jocelyn's face the bat must by no chance injure her. He caressed her cheek; softly pressed his lips to hers; murmured "my darling," and fell asleep. H81] CHAPTER XVI THE DAWN The first glimmerings of dawn were penetrating the cave when Prescott awoke. Already it was day on the plateau above. The half-light penetrating the gloom of the cave had perhaps been the stimulus that brought before the subconscious self of the sleeper a vision that stood out now so clearly before him that he was at first not quite fully aware that it represented only the imagery of dreamland. He had seemed to be wandering along the banks of a beautiful river, which he recognized as the little stream that flowed through his native village. It was springtime. The air was fragrant with odors of the blossoms of the wild crab-tree. The glades were embowered with the huge bou- quets of the dogwood. Crackles in flocks were serenading in the tree- tops; robins chanted and bluebirds carolled; off in the woodland he heard the staccato call of the [182] THE DAWN fiicker. Flocks of ducks were flying up the centre of the stream. A water-ouzel plunged from the shore. But all these delightful souvenirs of spring served only as the background of his thoughts; for their central theme had to do with the beau- tiful girl that walked by his side. She was very young; not more than fifteen; just about his own age, he reflected. He seemed to have known her from childhood; but not till recently had he come to think of her as different from all the other girls. Now he saw that she was superla- tively beautiful, entrancing, lovely. Her cheeks were made to be caressed, her lips to be kissed if only he dared. But he did not dare at first. They held hands, however, as they strolled; and the girl's eyes laughed up into his, and he laughed in return, from very gladness. Presently they came to a grassy bank in a little glade in the woodland, where the sun cast sprangly shadows, and the air was redolent of springtime odors. His companion sat down amidst a bed of violets, while he gathered for her a huge bunch of bluebells. She seemed altogether enticing, as he came close beside her to hand her the flowers. [183] JOCELYN WEST And she smiled back at him in the most bewitch- ing way as she thanked him. As their hands touched, a feeling of primeval desire came into his soul. He could not release the hand, and he awkwardly dropped the flowers in the girl's lap. Then they both laughed; and she blushed; and he was conscious that his own cheeks were tingling. But a mutual impulse seemed to impel their faces nearer and nearer together, each looking into the eyes of the other. And then his arms went about her and their lips met and clung in a kiss. And he murmured over and over, "Oh, Jocelyn, I love you." And at that, Prescott Knight awoke here in the cave; awoke to find his lips pressed to those of the real Jocelyn; his arms about her. He could just make out the outline of her face as he now very carefully drew back a little, and half arose on his elbow to regard her. It was the face of the girl of his dreams, with all the glow of youth; with all the enticing softness and ro- tundity of contour; with the same long lashes, the same bewitching curve of the lips. But the eyes were closed; his beloved was asleep. So he moved very cautiously as he slipped [184] THE DAWN from the. couch and stood above her, caressing her hair, and half expecting to see a pillow of violets and bluebells about her head. He stood thus for a moment or two, looking down in adoration on the sleeping face, before a sense of the realities flashed into his mind. Then he started, clenched his hands, and felt a gripping at his heart. "Am I awake or dreaming? " he half whispered. "Is what I recall a reality or a nightmare?" He looked slowly about the cave; came for- ward and stood at the entrance, catching a glimpse of the gilded clouds above the rim of the canon off to the east. He was wide awake now; yet for a moment or two he grasped at the thought that what he so vividly and painfully recalled of the tragic inci- dents of the day before was only a mad dream. He even stepped out on the ledge, and made his way swiftly to the corner whence the path across the horseshoe became visible. The point opposite was still bathed in purple shadows, and at first he could not make out dis- tinctly the contour of the path. So he hoped against hope. But even as he looked, the sun came above the rim at last and a gleam of light [185] JOCELYN WEST shot along the cliff, and seemed to focus on the wall where the path was hewn. Where it had been hewn! For a glance now showed that the path had been obliterated; a chasm yawned where it had been. The recollection of the catastrophe was no dream, no nightmare, no mad freak of the imagi- nation. It was stern, terrible, inexorable reality. As Prescott saw that last glimmering ray of hope take flight he stood for a moment, dazed; then he realized that the time had come for action. He turned instantly back to the mouth of the cave. As he did so, his eyes swept the amazing panorama of turrets and minarets and facades of rock, just taking on the glowing reds and opals of the morning. But he scarcely noted this or anything. For a moment, though, his attention was fixed on a vulture that was soaring about almost on a level with the ledge where he stood. The wings of the great bird of ill-omen alternately flashed white in the sun and silhouetted black against the haze of the distant cliffs. The gruesome thought came to Prescott that [186] THE DAWN before another hour the bird might be feasting on his flesh his flesh and Jocelyn's. He winced involuntarily, shrugged his shoulders, turned his face away, and put out his hand as if to repel so repulsive a thought. Then his eyes swept across the vast abyss, to rest for a moment on the cliff beyond, only half emerged from the gloom. A sense of his own littleness came to him, and by some strange freak of the brain a conception of the vast stretches of time that had been required to carve the great canon out of solid rock flashed into his mind. Man had not begun his slow climb from the status of the primate when the river first began cutting into the rocky surface. Since then un- told thousands of generations had come and gone always aspiring, loving, and hating cling- ing ever to life and fleeing from death. From death! The word brought him back to the present, to the sense of haunting apprehen- sion that held him in its grip. The terrible real- ity, for an instant banished, bore in on his half- dazed consciousness. What mattered it that all these generations had died, each in its turn? Did that make it [187] JOCELYN WEST easier for him to die? No; each must face death for himself, by himself, alone. Alone, and yet not alone. For was not Jocelyn with him? The thought brought him fully to his senses. What if Jocelyn were to awaken ! That must not be. He turned back into the cave where the light was already pretty clearly penetrating. There was no time to lose. Softly he approached the couch and bent over the sleeping form. Cautiously, tenderly, as a woman mothers her babe, he took the supple, yielding figure in his arms. He raised her slowly, gently, that she might not arouse. For a moment it seemed as if she would awaken; but she only turned and nestled closer against his bosom. Cautiously he tiptoed towards the mouth of the cave. As he came into the full light, his eyes were fixed devoutly on the face of his loved one. He put his lips to hers, and her lips responded, even as she slept. Now he stood at the mouth of the cave, his eyes never raised from the face that rested on his shoulder. He pulled the blanket closer about [188] THE DAWN the sleeper, partly to shield her face from the full light she must not awaken; partly that her body might be closely enwrapped that would protect it a little longer from the vulture! "Jocelyn, I love you," he murmured, He came forward to the very verge of the ledge. An instant he paused, to take a firmer hold on his fair burthen. Then he put his lips again to hers, and holding her in a farewell embrace, he leaped far out into space. As a meteor falls from the skies, seemingly with the speed of light itself, the two forms, blended in one, darted down down down into the well- nigh fathomless depths of the abyss. No eye but that of the vulture witnessed the tragedy. The great bird, as it soared, noted the flash of the falling bodies; and peered far down into the depths. A scarcely visible spot of red in reality a Navajo blanket marked the resting- place of the mangled bodies, a full mile below. For a few minutes the vulture seemed not to alter the plane of its flight. Then it began to circle expectantly downward in great, leisurely spirals. [189] A 000110203 7