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