Rod s Salvation
 
 STORIES BY 
 
 ANNIE ELIOT TRUMBULL 
 * 
 
 A CHRISTMAS ACCIDENT AND OTHER 
 STORIES. i6mo. Cloth .... $1.00 
 
 ROD S SALVATION AND OTHER STO 
 RIES. i6mo. Cloth i. oo 
 
 A CAPE COD WEEK. i6mo. Cloth i.oo 
 
 * 
 
 A. S. BARNES & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 New York.
 
 " ILLUMINATED ONLY BY THE UPWARD FLASH OF THE 
 LANTERN "
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 By 
 
 Annie Eliot Trumbull 
 
 Author of " A Christmas Accident and 
 Other Stories " 
 
 With full-page Illustrations by 
 Charles Copeland 
 
 New York 
 
 A. S. Barnes and Company 
 1898
 
 T5 
 
 TlS 
 
 Kir 
 
 Copyright, 1898, 
 BY A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY. 
 
 SHtttbmttg $ws: 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 MY acknowledgments are due to the Editors of 
 the Atlantic Monthly and Scribner s Magazine for 
 permission to reprint the first three stories of this 
 volume. 
 
 A. E. T.
 
 Contents 
 
 Page 
 ROD S SALVATION i 
 
 DECLINE AND FALL 102 
 
 UNEFFECTUAL FIRE 168 
 
 THE CHEVALIER SAINT AGAR .... 241
 
 Illustrations 
 
 Page 
 
 " Illuminated only by the upward flash of 
 
 the lantern" Frontispiece 
 
 " Why not a dryad ?" 148 
 
 " They had wandered " 196 
 
 "Bending forward, she read " 273
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 "W 
 
 ELL, she ain t shipped 
 for it yet, I reckon," said 
 Captain Case, with a touch of 
 irony, as he removed the pipe from 
 his mouth and leaned back in his 
 stiff chair. 
 The tobacco smoke was thick in the 
 low room, and unpractised eyes might not 
 readily have discerned the owner of a voice 
 which came in response from the further 
 corner; but there was no such doubt in 
 the minds of the few silent listeners who 
 sat gravely about, one tipped back against 
 the window-casing, two others leaning on 
 the deal table. They recognized Captain 
 Small. 
 
 " Well, no," said the voice, " I don t 
 know as she s shipped for it, and I don t 
 say as she s going to ; but I do say that 
 i i
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " Glad to see you at the Club, cap n," 
 said one of the men at the table, with a 
 smile and a nod. " You don t get down 
 as often as you used to." 
 
 " That s a fact, that s a fact," an 
 swered Captain Wheelock genially. u I 
 don t cruise round evenings as much as I 
 did." 
 
 " There ain t as much to talk about 
 nowadays," suggested Captain Case, with 
 an elaborate wink addressed to the com 
 pany in general. "Whalin ain t what it 
 was." 
 
 Captain Wheelock joined in the good- 
 humored laugh at his expense. 
 
 " Well, no, it ain t," he affirmed regret 
 fully ; " really it ain t." 
 
 Then there fell a silence upon the com 
 pany. The old whaling captain s entrance 
 had been an interruption, albeit no unwel 
 come one, and there was felt a certain 
 delicacy about taking up the thread of 
 conversation just where it had been broken 
 off. The pause, however, was by no 
 4
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 means one of embarrassment or awkward 
 ness. It was very seldom that either of 
 these annoyed society in Seacove. The 
 most polished of social ornaments might 
 well envy the charm found here, in a gen 
 uineness and simplicity which was never 
 disturbed because it never dreamed of in 
 equality, and withal an absence of provin 
 cial narrowness which comes from the 
 necessarily wide experience of those who 
 go down to the sea in ships. 
 
 The men smoked ; the dim kerosene 
 lamp flickered and grew dimmer in the 
 clouded room. It was a lamp plucky as 
 most, but it had a good deal against its 
 success in life this evening. The windows 
 rattled now and then, and from outside 
 came the intermittent soft rush of the surf 
 on the sandy beach. Captain Small, with 
 a grave deliberateness which intimated to 
 the room generally that he saw no reason 
 for not going on with the discussion, broke 
 the silence. 
 
 " We were talking, Cap n Wheelock," 
 5
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 he said, " as you came in, about your grand 
 daughter there." 
 
 " Were you, now ? " said the old man, 
 with friendly interest. It was no unusual 
 thing to discuss here the personal affairs of 
 the Club members. It was rather flatter 
 ing than otherwise, within certain bounds, 
 which were never transgressed by the 
 courtesy of Seacove. " Fayal s a good 
 girl," he added, with the certainty of a 
 friendly response. 
 
 " There s nobody here said anything 
 against that, cap n," and a man who had 
 not spoken before shook the ashes out of 
 his pipe, and looked about with a little air 
 of defiance, as though he had added, " And 
 I d like to see the landlubber who d dare 
 say it, too." No one felt himself aggrieved 
 by this attitude of Captain Sash. In the 
 first place, their consciences were clear ; 
 and, in the next, Captain Sash s defiances 
 were well understood. He was a small, 
 sandy-haired man, with the proverbial 
 anchor tattooed on his left forearm, a defi- 
 6
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 ciency of reliable teeth, and the best heart 
 in the world. His was not the mould to 
 inspire uneasiness, and so much the better 
 for it, but he looked upon himself as a 
 figure of systematic aggression. 
 
 " And not so much about her, either," 
 went on Captain Small, after varioHS nods 
 expressive of entire assent on the part of 
 the company to the previous statements, 
 " as about that young Farnor that s an 
 chored here for the last two months, and 
 that s always round after Fayal." 
 
 " I don t know as he s after her," said 
 Captain Wheelock slowly, while an anxious 
 expression crossed his rugged face. 
 
 " Well, we don t think he 11 make much 
 headway," struck in Captain Case, " as 
 long as she keeps so close alongside of 
 Rod." 
 
 " That s a fact," and Captain Wheelock s 
 face brightened again. " I guess you re 
 right, cap n. There ain t room for any 
 other vessel in that port." 
 
 "It s a queer thing," said Captain Small 
 7
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 meditatively, " the kind of thing women tie 
 up to." 
 
 Captain Small was credited with even 
 more than the sailor s usual devotion to the 
 fair sex, a circumstance which imparted 
 a shade of melancholy to his general obser 
 vations thereupon, and caused them to be 
 listened to with great respect. " So it is, 
 cap n, so it is," assented Captain Sash. 
 
 " No, I don t know as Rod is worth it," 
 asserted Captain Wheelock, shaking his 
 head. " Fayal s a good girl, and I don t 
 say Rod s worth it." 
 
 It was not the first time that Rod s mis 
 demeanors had brought his name into this 
 intimate and sympathetic circle. 
 
 " What s he doing now, Cap n Whee 
 lock ? " asked one of the more silent men, 
 with respectful interest. 
 
 " Nothing," answered Captain Whee 
 lock gloomily, " nothing, or else mis 
 chief." 
 
 The darkness in the room threatened to 
 become inpenetrable. The stove door was 
 8
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 bright enough, to be sure, but the lamp let 
 its discouragement be seen and began to 
 smoke. Captain Trent set his chair noisily 
 on four legs, and turned up the wick. 
 The increased illumination suggested a 
 change in the tone of conversation, which 
 was growing depressed. 
 
 " That P arnor, where does he come 
 from ? " asked Captain Small. 
 
 " He s of Seacove extract," answered 
 Captain Case. " His grandmother was a 
 Wheelock, kind of third or fourth cousin 
 of the cap n s, and she married a nothing 
 that came down here from the inland, and 
 went away with him. This is the first one 
 of the tribe that s come back. Ain t that 
 so, cap n ? " 
 
 " That s so." 
 
 " And he might as well have stayed 
 away, according to my reckoning," went 
 on Captain Case. 
 
 " That s a fact," assented Captain 
 Wheelock for the second time. Then he 
 roused himself from what threatened to 
 9
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 be a fit of abstraction. " What that boy 
 needs," he went on with decision, and a 
 
 glance around him whose little touch of 
 self-consciousness showed that he antici 
 pated the verdict of his audience, " is a 
 whalin voyage." He paused, as one who 
 could bring forward corroborative evidence 
 if demanded by the situation, but who for 
 bore to force an opening for it. This 
 opening was instantly afforded by the good 
 breeding of the company. 
 
 " Guess you re about right, cap n," 
 said Captain Trent. "That ll take the 
 stifFenin out of most anybody." 
 
 "Well, I guess it will," said the cap 
 tain, while his eyes sparkled, and he leaned 
 forward and knocked his pipe on the table 
 edge. But he waited still for the stimulus 
 of further interest. 
 
 " The kind of weather you have up 
 there don t suit land-lubbers," remarked 
 Captain Small. 
 
 " Weather ! " Captain Wheelock ex 
 claimed. " A man that s been around
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 Cape Horn three times don t have much 
 to say about the weather. When I " 
 The auditors settled back in their chairs; 
 the lamp flickered, the atmosphere grew 
 more stifling, the sound of the waves on 
 the beach deeper, but the little circle within 
 were in the northern seas with harpoon 
 and grappling-iron. 
 
 It was an hour later that Captain Trent, 
 carelessly glancing out of the window at 
 his right, saw approaching swiftly a bright 
 spot on the thick darkness. He said noth 
 ing, however, but watched it as he listened, 
 and in a few moments the light of the 
 lantern flashed through the low window, 
 a light step sounded on the doorstone, then 
 a subdued swish of a skirt against the door 
 itself, and a sharp, quick knock on the 
 panels. There was a scraping of chairs. 
 Captain Wheelock suspended his narration, 
 and Captain Case called out, " Come in ! " 
 
 The door swung back, and in the dark 
 opening, illuminated only by the upward 
 flash of the lantern in her hand, stood a 
 ii
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 young girl. Even the feeble light of the 
 lamp blinded her, after the cool, soft dark 
 ness without, and she paused a moment, 
 a smile on her lips, peering uncertainly into 
 the smoky room. Her short, plain skirt 
 was dull blue, and her blouse waist was 
 like it, with a deep white sailor collar, out 
 of which her graceful throat and head rose 
 like a flower. Her dark hair was twisted 
 into a thick, close knot behind, and she 
 wore a small red cap pulled down almost 
 to her ears. A few dark locks fell over 
 her forehead, under which her star-like eyes 
 looked out brilliantly and fearlessly. Her 
 small nose and charming, smiling mouth 
 made up a singularly beautiful face. 
 
 " Good-evenin , Miss Fayal. Come in ! 
 Come in ! " rose the chorus, with a hospit 
 able waving of pipes. 
 
 " Well, Fay, I guess you ve come after 
 me," supplemented Captain Wheelock, 
 with a somewhat shamefaced abandonment 
 of his role of narrator. 
 
 " Good-evening," said Fayal, stepping 
 12
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 into the room, with a laughing nod to the 
 whole group. " Well, grandpa, I guess 
 I have come after you," and she went over 
 to the old man, and laid her hand on his 
 shoulder. There was an absolute uncon 
 sciousness of her beauty in her manner, 
 and yet a full, friendly appreciation of the 
 admiring and affectionate glances of the 
 half-dozen weather-beaten old sailors that 
 was charming. 
 
 " It s time you were home, you know 
 it is. No wonder you looked put by when 
 I came in. Now I know what you were 
 saying," and she looked slowly around the 
 group, who grinned in assenting enjoy 
 ment. " Yes, I know, and there s no use 
 in denying it. You were saying, just as I 
 came in, that you did n t believe there was 
 anybody could kill a whale quicker than 
 you could." 
 
 The grin deepened into a loud laugh of 
 confirmation, joined in by the old captain 
 with some deprecation. 
 
 " Oh, I know you, you old whaler," re-
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 peated the girl, nodding and swinging the 
 lantern. " Come along home." 
 
 Captain Wheelock rose, and in a minute 
 the two, with a gay " Good-night " from 
 Fayal, left the murky atmosphere of good- 
 fellowship, and stepped out into the damp 
 darkness, lightened by the twinkling lan 
 tern and penetrated by the sound of the 
 waves below. -k 
 
 The usual silence of people who are in 
 no haste to express what is in the minds 
 of all followed their exit. Then Captain 
 Sash remarked, " Well, I guess she ain t 
 off her soundings yet" and looked defiantly 
 around for somebody to contradict him. 
 Nobody did. Even Captain Small s pessi 
 mistic views of the attendant difficulties of 
 woman s career were modified by the vision 
 of the young, beautiful, and courageous 
 creature who had just left them.
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 II 
 
 IT was perhaps twenty minutes later. 
 The conversation had been renewed upon 
 subjects dear to seafaring men. There 
 was another rapid tread outside ; the door 
 opened abruptly for the third time, and 
 a young man stepped into the room, 
 whose quick glance had taken in all the 
 occupants before he responded to their 
 deliberate nods of recognition. He was 
 a heavily-built fellow, rather good-looking 
 in a not particularly attractive way, with 
 overhanging eyebrows, beneath which his 
 eyes looked watchfully forth to see what 
 people were thinking of him. His was 
 a not unintelligent face, though far from 
 intellectual. His manner, gait, and voice 
 were permeated by a sense of his own im 
 portance, which restrained within bounds 
 what might otherwise have been a turbu 
 lent nature. His passions, naturally strong 
 and tenacious, could be wrought upon only 
 through this medium of self-consideration, 
 15
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 which, without concealing their existence 
 from even indifferent observers, usually 
 withheld them from reaching active de 
 monstration or real depth. Yet this armor 
 of Farnor s was not proof against his own 
 carking doubt of the entire success of the 
 impression he made upon others, by which 
 suggestion perfect self-satisfaction is un 
 troubled. 
 
 " Come for your mail, Mr. Farnor ? " 
 asked Captain Sash. It was noteworthy 
 that no one suspected him of having come 
 for the social advantages of the place. 
 
 "Yes, captain," answered the young 
 man, with an attempt at ease and famil 
 iarity. " Anybody brought it over ? " 
 
 " Here you are," and Captain Sash 
 shoved towards him a small pile of letters 
 lying on the table. " Went over myself 
 to-night." 
 
 Farnor picked up the pile, and ran them 
 
 through, laying aside one or two addressed 
 
 to himself. This was the usual mode of 
 
 mail distribution at Seacove. The men 
 
 16
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 sat around, smoking silently and watching 
 him. 
 
 " Don t see any that belong up my way, 
 or I d take them along too," he said, lay 
 ing down the last letter and picking up his 
 hat. 
 
 " Most of em been in. Cap n Whee- 
 lock was the last." 
 
 Farnor looked quickly at the speaker, 
 and then, with something of an effort, asked 
 carelessly, " So the cap n s been down this 
 evening, has he ? " 
 
 " Yes. Left about half an hour ago." 
 There was a pause, somewhat oppressive 
 to Farnor, who kicked the table leg with 
 assumed carelessness. " Him and Fayal," 
 concluded Captain Trent. 
 
 " Yes," supplemented Captain Sash. 
 " She came down and towed him home," 
 and he glanced around to see if anybody 
 had anything to say against that. 
 
 "Ah, yes?" murmured Farnor inter 
 rogatively. " Well, what are the prospects 
 for codfishing, cap n ? " 
 17
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " Get out to-morrow or next day," was 
 the reply, " if it don t blow too hard." 
 
 " I d like to get a chance to go out with 
 you, some time." 
 
 " Plenty of chances before the fishing s 
 over, I guess," was the not too cordial 
 statement. 
 
 " Well," and Farnor opened the door, 
 " I 11 say good-evening, gentlemen." 
 
 " Good-night," answered the two men 
 upon whom generally devolved those social 
 duties of Seacove that no one else cared to 
 attend to. 
 
 It struck Farnor that there was more 
 cordiality in their parting salutation than 
 had been in their greeting ; and though this 
 was not a reflection that affected his self- 
 esteem, it was something very like an oath 
 that passed his lips as he stepped from the 
 threshold and strode away into the darkness. 
 
 Meanwhile, Fayal and her grandfather 
 were walking slowly along the uneven road 
 towards home. They passed through sev 
 eral of the little ten-feet-wide streets, on 
 18
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 each side of which the small houses of the 
 fishermen clustered and smiled at each 
 other, and made their way to the Wheelock 
 cottage, which stood a little apart from the 
 rest, at the head of a lane. In one place 
 a foot-bridge across a deep gully was broken 
 down, and they had to descend and ascend 
 the steep banks on either side ; no easy 
 matter, in the darkness, with the loose dirt 
 and rolling stones. But Fayal s foot was 
 as sure as a deer s, and to the old man the 
 way was as familiar as his own sitting-room 
 floor : while the swinging lantern gave the 
 necessary assistance at critical points. Here 
 and there gleamed through the curtainless 
 windows the ray of a lamp right across the 
 narrow footpath, and twice they met a way 
 farer, like themselves, whose lantern warned 
 them of his approach, and with whom they 
 exchanged a good-evening. Always in their 
 ears was the tumbling of waves on the 
 beach, just beyond the line of tiny houses 
 which ran along the edge of the steep sand 
 bluff on their right ; and above the dark-
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 ness of land and water were wind-driven 
 mists, and above the mists were the half- 
 veiled stars. 
 
 " Why did n t Rod come with you, for 
 company ? " asked Captain Wheelock. 
 
 " Oh, Rod was studying," answered 
 Fayal quickly, turning on her heel towards 
 her grandfather, whom she was preceding, 
 and walking backwards, as she spoke, over 
 the short green turf which was now under 
 their feet. " He wanted to come with me, 
 but I would n t let him. I thought he d 
 much better stay where he was." 
 
 " Yes, if he was studying, I should think 
 he had." 
 
 Fayal was quick to perceive the critical 
 implication. 
 
 " Now, grandpa, you know Miss Round 
 says that there s no one can get ahead of 
 Rod Grant when he wants to study. And 
 who wants a boy to study the during day ? 
 You wouldn t yourself." 
 
 "No," admitted Captain Wheelock. 
 He did not add that there certainly was 
 
 20
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 little danger of such a mistake. He knew 
 his granddaughter s line of argumentative 
 reply by this time. 
 
 " I thought perhaps Farnor would have 
 come along with you, if Rod did n t," he 
 resumed. 
 
 Fayal turned indifferently on her heel 
 again, and went forward, swinging her 
 lantern, while she answered, in a voice out 
 of which all the interest had gone : 
 
 " I guess he thought so, too. He asked 
 me if he could come. There wasn t much 
 use in saying I did n t want him, so I told 
 him to wait for me at Rose Lane, and I 
 came round by Sash Corner. I guess he s 
 there now. Any way, he has n t sighted 
 us yet," and Fayal laughed aloud. 
 
 " Well, I don t know as I d play those 
 sort of tricks with Farnor," said Captain 
 Wheelock a little uneasily. " He does n t 
 seem just the right kind." 
 
 " Why, grandpa ! " and Fayal swung 
 round again. U I guess you don t want me 
 to be afraid of Dan Farnor ! "
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " Well, no, I guess I don t," said the 
 captain apologetically, as they turned one 
 of the many little corners of the toy village, 
 and found themselves facing the old white 
 house which was home for both. The 
 door opened, and in the doorway stood a 
 charmingly pretty old woman. 
 
 " I sighted your lantern when you turned 
 into the lane," said she, as they went in. 
 " Seems to me you took the long way 
 round." 
 
 " And what if we did, grandma ? " said 
 Fayal, who, depositing the lantern in the 
 corner, put her arm about the old woman 
 and drew her into the sitting-room, which 
 
 O 
 
 opened directly from the little square place 
 of entrance which could not be called a 
 hall. " I guess you did n t worry about 
 us much, did you ? " 
 
 " Worry ! Land, what d I worry about ? " 
 said her grandmother, sitting down, and 
 picking up her four steel needles and the 
 dependent stocking. " I never was much 
 of a whittle." 
 
 22
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " Where s Rod ? " asked Fayal, with a 
 quick glance about the room. 
 
 " Gone to fetch some wood ; the fire s 
 getting kind o low." 
 
 " Oh ! " and Fayal tossed off her red 
 cap, and dropped into a rather uncompro 
 mising rocking-chair. But it might have 
 been a divan of Oriental luxury, so grace 
 ful were the curves of her figure and so 
 suggestive of indolent comfort, as she threw 
 one arm over her head, and looked, smiling, 
 from one to the other of the old couple. 
 Mrs. Wheelock s hair was snow-white, 
 and, parted in the middle, was decorously 
 smoothed back and wound in a knot be 
 hind. Her eyes were blue, with that vivid 
 color which we associate usually with youth 
 alone. Her features were regular, and her 
 smile was childishly sweet. The old sea- 
 captain s eyes dwelt upon her with loving 
 satisfaction. He felt he had been away 
 some time, and he was glad to see her 
 again. 
 
 " Well ? " said she, looking up to meet 
 2 3
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 his eyes with a little nod and smile. It 
 was as pretty as if they had been eighteen 
 and twenty. 
 
 u No," said the captain, smiling too. 
 "You were n t ever anything of a whittle ; 
 not even in the winters when I was off 
 after whales." 
 
 " Oh, whales ! " said Mrs. Wheelock, 
 with a little toss of mock contempt. Cap 
 tain Wheelock enjoyed the contempt im 
 mensely. 
 
 " She used to write me letters," he said 
 to Fayal, with a nod. " She can write a 
 mighty good letter. Used to be a school- 
 marm, you know." 
 
 Just then the door opened, and a boy of 
 eighteen came in with an armful of wood. 
 Fayal sprang to her feet, and, with a smile 
 of pleasure playing about her lips, which 
 dimpled into a laugh at his overloaded 
 appearance, helped him deposit the wood 
 on the hearth. 
 
 " Hullo, Fayal ; got back, have you ? " 
 was the boyish greeting. " Well, grandpa, 
 24
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 how was the Club to-night ? Did you spin 
 em a yarn that knocked Cap n Sash out of 
 sight ? " 
 
 " Of course he did," answered Fayal for 
 him ; " and he d have been spinning em 
 yet, if I had n t brought him home." 
 
 Fayal had resumed her seat, but her eyes 
 dwelt upon her brother, who tossed a knot 
 of wood into the stove, slammed the iron 
 door, picked up a book, and threw himself 
 on the stiff sofa under the mantelpiece, as 
 if everything he did was of absorbing inter 
 est. He was a very handsome boy, and 
 looked much like his sister; but his face 
 lacked the spirit and will that intensified 
 hers, and the coloring was quite different. 
 The eyes, with their long lashes, were blue, 
 like his grandmother s ; the mouth was 
 sensitive and wilful ; and his manner con 
 veyed a hint of constant restlessness, which 
 might develop into activity, and might prove 
 something less desirable. He was sure to 
 find women to condone his offences, what 
 ever they might be ; that much might be 
 25
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 easily read in a certain appealing look in his 
 blue eyes, and a general air of irresponsible 
 charm. That he had not hitherto won 
 golden opinions from his own sex was un 
 doubtedly the unfortunate effect of their 
 stormy lives, which unfitted them for the 
 enjoyment of the less sturdy graces. 
 
 Ill 
 
 THE next day, Fayal stood on the door- 
 sill, looking out over the intense glittering 
 blue of the sea. Just below her was 
 Rod, and her arm rested on his shoulder. 
 It was a brilliant day. The air at Seacove 
 was remarkably clear ; there was none of 
 that distant haze which so often shadows 
 the outlines about a place by the sea. Every 
 low building rose clear and sharp against 
 the sky, and beyond the village stretched 
 the sweep of flat land, clothed in smoky 
 browns and smouldering reds, to the very 
 horizon line ; while on the other side 
 expanded 
 
 26
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " the great opaque 
 Blue breadth of sea, without a break." 
 
 " It s just the day for it," said Fayal 
 positively. " I m sure it s quite cold 
 enough." 
 
 " They went earlier than this, last year," 
 said Rod, " and got a good haul." 
 
 Down the lane came a fine-looking 
 woman, with a shawl tied over her head. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mrs. Trent ! " called 
 out Fayal. " Are they going cod-fishing 
 to-day ? " 
 
 " Morning, Fayal. They re going at 
 eleven o clock. I just stopped in at Peter 
 Sash s to tell him James thought they might 
 as well try their luck. I told James I d bet 
 a shad they would n t get a fish, and he 
 said it was the first time he ever knew a 
 Seacove woman bet awn anything but a 
 certainty. All the same, I m reckoning 
 awn fried cod for my supper." 
 
 Mrs. Trent was leaning on the palings 
 of the trifling fence, which seemed intended 
 more to keep the house from coming into 
 27
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 the road than from encroachments the other 
 way, so close it stood to the low windows. 
 Mrs. Trent had plenty of time this morn 
 ing ; no one was ever in much of a hurry 
 at Seacove. 
 
 " Who s going ? " asked Rod eagerly. 
 
 " Only two boats, Rawd," answered 
 Mrs. Trent. " Peter Sash and James in 
 one, and Abel Small and John Mason 
 in the other." 
 
 " Good-day, Mary Jane Trent," said 
 Mrs. Wheelock, behind Fayal. Her little 
 shawl was crossed on her breast ; she wore 
 a fresh white cap, and the soft, plump out 
 lines of her old face were tinted like a 
 girl s. " So they re going out to-day, are 
 they ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Wheelock, they re going to 
 see if the fish have come up yet. Where s 
 the captain ? He ought to go and launch 
 em." 
 
 " He s cruisin round," answered the old 
 lady placidly. " I guess he 11 be down about 
 the time they start." 
 
 28
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 Fayal and Rod had dashed into the house 
 for their caps, and were now on their way 
 to the beach, where already a little group 
 of men stood about two heavy row-boats. 
 
 " There s Cap n Small now," said Rod, 
 as they drew near, " and Cap n Trent s 
 with him." 
 
 The men who were to go were clad in 
 oilskin suits, and were packing now a spear 
 and now a coil of rope in their several 
 boats, and answering the questions and the 
 chaff of the bystanders. Two or three 
 women stood about, with housewifely fore 
 sight, engaging a share of the possible spoil. 
 As Fayal and Rod drew near, a figure sep 
 arated itself from the group and approached 
 them. Fayal nodded indifferently, but Rod 
 called out, " Hullo, Dan ! Don t you wish 
 we were going too ? " 
 
 " Not to-day. What s the fun of it, 
 anyway ? Beastly hard work, and no fish, 
 probably," answered Dan Farnor, shrug 
 ging his shoulders. 
 
 Rod looked at him with some admira- 
 29
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 tion ; he envied the knowledge of larger 
 excitements that made the stranger so in 
 different to Seacove episodes, but at present 
 could not imitate it, and rushed down to the 
 boats, leaving Farnor with his sister. 
 
 u That was a nice trick you played me 
 last night, Miss Fayal," said Farnor, stop 
 ping short and looking into the girl s face. 
 
 Fayal stopped, too, and met his glance 
 fearlessly, though at first in some bewil 
 derment. In the interest of the moment 
 she had forgotten all about the incident of 
 the evening before. Then she broke into 
 a laugh, long and merry, which made the 
 young man s cheek flush deeper with anger. 
 
 " You cruised round considerable before 
 you gave it up, did n t you ? " she laughed. 
 
 " Never mind," he replied shortly. " I 11 
 pay you up for your tricks yet." 
 
 " Did you go into the Club ? " she 
 questioned, with renewed amusement. " If 
 you did, I know you hung yourself, 
 they d all be sure to know you came after 
 me." 
 
 3
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " They did n t know anything of the 
 sort." 
 
 They had walked on again, but though 
 they were quite near the men and the boat 
 their voices were inaudible save to each 
 other, for the sound of the beating surf. 
 
 " But, Fayal, why do you treat me so ? " 
 said the man, in another tone. " You know 
 I love you ; why don t you act like any 
 other girl ? " There was real passion in 
 his voice, but he kept a close guard on his 
 eyes and manner, that the people near 
 might know nothing of what was going 
 on. 
 
 " I don t know much how other girls 
 act," said Fayal coolly. " You know I 
 never cared much for other girls. I had 
 Rod," and she looked up as if sure of 
 sympathy in this her great love. 
 
 " And how when Rod begins to care for 
 other girls ? " said Farnor, with a sneer. 
 
 Fayal s face grew grave suddenly, then 
 brightened again. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " she answered, " he 
 3 1
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 won t. In the first place, there are not 
 any girls here he would like as much as 
 me, anyway." 
 
 "And you, do you mean to say you 
 never expect to care for any man as much 
 as you do for Rod ? " exclaimed Farnor, 
 angry at this persistent obtuseness. 
 
 " Care as much as I do for Rod ! " cried 
 Fayal. " Oh, go along ! " and she laughed 
 in sheer amusement at the question. " I 
 guess you know you re not talking sense 
 now. Come on. They re going to 
 launch her." 
 
 The other two salts had arrived while 
 they were talking, and Fayal danced down 
 to the group, followed by Farnor, trying 
 to conceal his chagrin under his usual air 
 of self-importance. The men were drag 
 ging one boat to the water s edge. The 
 waves were boisterous, and it seemed to a 
 novice a hazardous undertaking to launch 
 her in the midst of them. 
 
 " Good luck, cap n ! " said Fayal, lay 
 ing her hand in that of Captain Trent, 
 32
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 who stood nearest to her. Captain Trent 
 grasped it heartily and shook it, his brawny 
 arm bared above the elbow, with a singu 
 larly nice thing in the way of an anchor 
 and lover s knot showing in fine relief. 
 Mary Jane could have told a tale of Cap 
 tain Trent s devotion to sentiment as 
 therein indicated. 
 
 Good luck to all of you ! " and she 
 stood back, as one of the heavy men clam 
 bered into the bow and picked up the oars, 
 while the other, assisted by friendly hands, 
 pushed the boat down into the ripple of the 
 receding wave, and waited with practised 
 eye for the right moment for the final 
 shove. It came at last, and with a cheer 
 from those on shore the craft rode out over 
 the crests of the breakers, with the two 
 men pulling hard at the oars. Fayal s 
 eyes were shining, and she held her breath 
 and clasped her hands in excitement. It 
 was not without its romantic side, this 
 matter-of-fact expedition for codfish, and 
 she was susceptible to shades of emotion. 
 3 33
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " Well, now," said Mary Jane Trent, 
 at her side, with what passed for enthu 
 siasm at Seacove, " I do like to see em go 
 out like that awn the tawp of the waves, 
 don t you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Fayal. 
 
 They stood and watched the launching 
 of the other boat, which followed immedi 
 ately, and then the group dispersed ; only 
 a few, including Fayal, waiting to see the 
 fishermen become dots on the blue expanse 
 of the ocean. The year s work had be 
 gun. Farnor waited because Fayal did, 
 and turned to walk away with her at 
 last. 
 
 " You may as well listen to me, Fayal," 
 he said, an obstinate look settling down 
 about his eyes. " I shall tell you every 
 day that I love you. There s no use try 
 ing to turn me off." 
 
 " I don t know as I m trying very hard 
 to turn you off," said Fayal easily. 
 
 "Yes, you are," retorted Farnor. " You 
 are always trying it in one way or another, 
 34
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 and, by George ! I don t know how I 
 stand it from you ! Other girls have n t 
 behaved so with me, I can tell you." 
 
 " Why don t you go after one of them, 
 then ? " inquired Fayal, with a lack of 
 active interest that must have been trying. 
 
 " Because I don t want any of them ! " he 
 answered angrily. " Because it s you that 
 I want. But I don t know how long you 
 expect a man to hang around waiting for 
 you, and making himself the laughing-stock 
 of these old coves around here for propos 
 ing to you." 
 
 " Oh, I ve kept it private as murder," 
 said Fayal, with some scorn. She was 
 not experienced, but she felt the egotism 
 of the man as keenly as a more subtle 
 analyzer would have done. 
 
 " It is n t that I care about," asserted 
 Farnor hastily and untruthfully, " but it s 
 all-fired hard on a man who is in love with 
 you." 
 
 Fayal looked over her shoulder, and 
 then paused. Farnor paused, too, looking 
 35
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 into her eyes for a gleam of encouragement. 
 His was an honest passion; it only felt the 
 limitations of his character. 
 
 " There he comes, poor boy ! " said 
 Fayal, in a tender tone. " He wanted to 
 go with them." 
 
 " Who are you talking about ? " said 
 Farnor roughly. 
 
 " Rod," answered Fayal. 
 
 " Damn him ! " came from the man s 
 white lips. 
 
 Fayal looked at him a moment with eyes 
 flashing anger ; then turned, and, leaving 
 him, went back to meet her brother. Far- 
 nor s eyes followed her a moment, and 
 then he too went on, with an ugly look 
 about the corners of his mouth. 
 
 IV 
 
 IT was two weeks after, in the early 
 
 evening, that Fayal came again into the 
 
 sitting-room from out-of-doors, and asked, 
 
 36
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 as she had done that other time, with a 
 quick glance about, 
 
 Where s Rod ? " 
 
 This time, however, there was more 
 anxiety in her tone ; her eyes, too, were 
 anxious, as she looked at her grandmother, 
 waiting her answer, before she tossed down 
 the cap she held in her hand, and took her 
 usual seat in the stiff rocking-chair. 
 
 " Well, Dan Farnor came for him just 
 after you went out," answered Mrs.Whee- 
 lock placidly, as usual. " I guess they re 
 cruisin round somewhere." 
 
 Fayal seated herself wearily, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 " I wish he d shipped with another 
 mate," remarked the captain. 
 
 " Now, you let Rod alone," said Mrs. 
 Wheelock, with a little nod of autocratic 
 decision. 
 
 Captain Wheelock smiled broadly. He 
 thought her charming. " I have n t said 
 anything about Rod," he protested. " Have 
 I, Fay ? " 
 
 37
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " No, grandpa," answered Fayal ab 
 sently. " You are always very good." It 
 was almost admitting that he might have 
 found something to say. She was absent 
 indeed. 
 
 " And why should n t he be ? " inquired 
 Mrs. Wheelock. "Why shouldn t he be, 
 I d like to know ? " 
 
 It was easy to see that the tones of her 
 soft old voice were intended to signify 
 excitement. 
 
 14 Who d he be good to if not his 
 own daughter s children ? I d like to see 
 him anything but good to em ! A great 
 rough sea-captain like him ! " and she 
 nodded tremendously, and looked at him 
 with a scorn which convulsed the delighted 
 captain. " If he behaved here as he did on 
 board ship, he d see ! / d manage him ! " 
 
 "You d set me adrift entirely, would n t 
 you, now ? " asked the captain, with an 
 air of recognizing harsh facts. " Well, 
 you see, I m careful, I m careful. I 
 know her," he added to Fayal. "We ve 
 38
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 been married sixty-one years, kind o 
 got the run of each other." 
 
 Usually Fayal delighted in the coquet 
 ting of her grandfather and grandmother, 
 but this evening she could hardly smile in 
 response to the appeals made to her. It 
 was a relief when, at the usual early hour 
 for retirement, they left her alone in the 
 sitting-room by the smouldering fire to wait 
 for Rod. Into her eyes, as she waited, 
 came two slow tears, those eyes which, 
 until the last ten days, had never looked 
 upon life as anything which brings burdens, 
 in the bearing of which hearts are bowed 
 down and willing steps are made to falter, 
 but rather as a practically limitless oppor 
 tunity for the enjoyment of sun, health, 
 and affection. To speak nearer the truth, 
 she had never looked upon life at all ; she 
 had lived. These two tears were all she 
 shed then ; it was not the way of the Sea- 
 cove women to cry very much over their 
 misfortunes. Nor were these tears of pro 
 test or of helpless grief; they were rather 
 39
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 a tribute to the loneliness of the present 
 position. She who almost never in her 
 whole life had spent a half-hour alone ; she 
 who, many and many an evening, had 
 watched the fire die out, with Rod s curly 
 head close beside her, while they talked of 
 the delightful things they were doing every 
 day, and the brilliant things they would do 
 some time together ; she was sitting alone, 
 while the old clock ticked away one hour, 
 and then another, alone and lonely, 
 while Rod Rod was where ? She 
 knew well enough ; and a little frown 
 drew together the beautifully pencilled eye 
 brows. Down at the Resort, pjaying cards 
 with Farnor. No such respectable meet 
 ing-place was the Resort as the Club, 
 where Fayal could break in, and, laughing, 
 carry home her brother or her grandfather, 
 as the case might be. Neither would it 
 fairly be considered a den of iniquity. It 
 was the place where the young men of 
 Seacove, not yet fitted by experience or 
 consideration for the solemn conclave of 
 40
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 the Club, met to while away the many 
 idle hours of life in a fishing-village, cut 
 off for so much of the year from any 
 active intercourse with the outside world. 
 Whether or not it might have remained a 
 place of entirely innocent amusement must 
 be left to experts in original sin ; but, un 
 fortunately, there was not wanting the 
 spirit of temptation existing outside the 
 souls of the younger members. The black 
 sheep of the older population, shut out by 
 social lines from the respectable atmosphere 
 of the Club, or finding there a lack of 
 necessary excitement; strangers, young 
 and old, who, like Dan Farnor, drifted 
 into the village, bearing with them the 
 aroma of metropolitan dissipation, these 
 and other influences, together with the 
 harum-scarum element existing in any 
 community, made the Resort a place 
 strongly disapproved of by conservative 
 Seacove. Hitherto, Rod had not shown 
 the slightest inclination for the place, and 
 even now his occasional presence there
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 would not perhaps have caused Fayal over 
 weening anxiety ; for, with the optimistic 
 philosophy of Seacove in general, and her 
 own youth and temperament in particular, 
 she would not have expected her Rod to 
 imbibe any great harm while under her 
 watchful guardianship. 
 
 But to-night she heard again Dan Far- 
 nor s words, and saw again the sulky fire 
 in his eyes, when he had last met and 
 spoken to her in the village street ; words 
 and look had haunted her, in spite of her 
 self. It was the day after the fishing-boat 
 episode. She was dodging the little irreg 
 ular houses, on her way to Julia Sash s for 
 some yeast, when, around the corner of one 
 of them, Farnor came towards her. Most 
 of the doorways of Seacove bore the sem 
 blance of one or more wonders of the sea 
 perched above them, striking the beholder 
 with a new awe of the possible contents of 
 the gay, glittering element from which such 
 things could be brought as trophies. A 
 special favorite of Fayal s was that over 
 42
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 Captain Small s, a mermaid, of course ; 
 such an admirer of the sex could do no 
 less than patronize a mermaid ; but it 
 would be a most susceptible mariner who 
 would suffer himself to be decoyed by this 
 wooden representative of siren fascination. 
 She was plain of feature and deficient in 
 outline, but her red waist, suggestive of 
 firemen and a readiness to connect a hose 
 with her native element, was startling of 
 hue, and her green skirt tapered with deli 
 cate discrimination and appropriateness of 
 color into a somewhat vague fish s tail. 
 In order that there might be lacking no 
 charm to endear her to the patriot, she 
 bore under one arm the shield of the 
 United States. Her face was turned 
 towards the ocean, and Fayal fancied her 
 longing to ride again at the head of a gal 
 lant whaling-ship and greet her companion 
 Lorelei upon the distant rocks. Fayal was 
 pleasing herself with this fancy, and did 
 not see Farnor until he was close in front 
 of her. 
 
 43
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " I have something to say to you, Miss 
 Fayal," he said. 
 
 " You generally do have," was the non 
 chalant reply. 
 
 " I have to warn you this time." 
 
 " To warn me ! " 
 
 " Yes. You think you won t mind, but 
 you will. It seems that no man can reach 
 you except through your brother Rod ; 
 that no man can make you think of him 
 without you think of him first. Very well. 
 You shall think of me when you think of 
 Rod ! You won t be able to think of him 
 without thinking of me ! The next time 
 I tell you that I love you, you 11 listen to 
 me. That s all I ve got to say to you, 
 Miss Fayal," and he passed on. 
 
 He had spoken so rapidly that Fayal 
 could only look and listen, but her look 
 was so fearless that it angered the man 
 more. 
 
 " Well, you ve laid your course, have n t 
 you ? " she called after him indifferently, 
 undismayed by his vehemence, and nodded 
 44
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 at the mermaid sympathetically as she 
 went on. 
 
 But since that time dismay had grown 
 upon her, nevertheless, though she did not 
 call it by its name. Day after day had 
 seen Rod in the company of Dan Farnor. 
 Evening after evening he had wandered 
 off, now and again to bring up at the 
 Resort. He had been out fishing once or 
 twice, but had come back without his 
 usual enthusiasm. Xo-night Fayal ac 
 knowledged that Farnor had spoken the 
 truth to her that morning. Since then 
 she had hardly thought of Rod that she 
 had not been forced to think of Farnor 
 too; in a shadowy, unacknowledged way, 
 to be sure, like an unimportant guest in 
 the presence of the heart s idol, but there 
 nevertheless. It did not make him the 
 chief figure through angry, indignant, 
 scornful thought of him, as it would have 
 done with some women. This was, per 
 haps, what he had hoped for ; for Farnor 
 fancied himself versed in women s books, 
 45
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 and knew that hatred is not too far off 
 from love, both being in the torrid zone, 
 though on opposite sides of the sphere of 
 emotion. No, it was Rod still that she 
 thought of, Rod and herself; but she 
 knew, too, that there were four of them, 
 two other unimportant people, Farnor 
 and the mermaid, who had mixed herself 
 up with them, unaccountably, ever since 
 that morning when she had been brought 
 back from contemplation of her by the 
 sound of Farnor s voice. There was a 
 last flicker inside of the stove ; the fire 
 had gone out entirely, but the somewhat 
 overheated room was the more comfortable. 
 Voices were heard from the road. Fayal 
 turned her head to listen. Yes, Rod was 
 coming home, and Dan Farnor with him. 
 It was not necessary that Fayal should go 
 to unbolt the door ; bolts and locks were 
 unknown at Seacove. Who would want 
 to come in except people who had business 
 there, and whom there was no object 
 in shutting out ? She sat quietly and 
 46
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 waited. There was a pause outside, and 
 then Rod entered, and Farnor went on alone. 
 He could not see Fayal as he passed the 
 curtainless window, her high-backed chair 
 concealed her, but he was quite sure that 
 she was there. 
 
 " Here I am, Rod," said Fayal, turning 
 her face around with a smile. 
 
 " Oh, Fay ! What did you sit up for ? " 
 he said a little impatiently, as he came 
 forward. 
 
 " Sit up ! " said Fayal, with grieved sur 
 prise. " When did I ever go to bed when 
 you were nt in the house ? I m not 
 sleepy." 
 
 " No, of course you re not," said Rod, 
 with some compunction, bending over and 
 kissing her heartily. Not even Farnor s 
 laughing inquiry as to whether his sister 
 was waiting for him with a lighted candle 
 to take upstairs could make him indiffer 
 ent to her whose companionship up to this 
 time had been all sufficient. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " asked Fayal. 
 47
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 There was no tone of reproof in her 
 voice ; only interest, made a little pathetic 
 by the fact that she found it necessary to 
 ask. 
 
 " Oh, playing cards at the Resort." 
 
 " With Dan Farnor ? " 
 
 " Yes. He s an awfully entertaining 
 fellow, Fay." 
 
 " Oh, I know he can talk like Hob." 
 
 " Well, he can. I should almost think 
 you d take a fancy to him," said Rod 
 boyishly. 
 
 " Well, I don t," answered Fayal coldly. 
 Then she sat up, with a sudden sense of 
 grieved humiliation, and, leaning forward, 
 looked down into his eyes as he sat on the 
 floor by her side. " Rod," there were 
 almost tears in her voice, " do you want 
 to have me ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not. Why should 
 I ? " he answered carelessly. 
 
 Fayal leaned back again, relieved. 
 
 " He s been teaching me a new game," 
 went on Rod, with eagerness. " And he 
 48
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 says he never saw such a lucky fellow as 
 I am," and he laughed with pleasure. 
 
 " Did you play for money, Rod ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, but I did n t get out over 
 my head, Fay ; you need n t worry," said 
 the boy reassuringly. " It was only just 
 to have something to play for; and you 
 know I earned some money this summer." 
 
 " I don t see why you can t play for the 
 fun of it," said Fayal, pulling at the curly 
 rings of his hair. 
 
 " Oh, well, it is n t rulable not to play 
 for money in this particular game," said Rod 
 patronizingly. " It does n t make any 
 difference, anyway, but I won everything." 
 
 " I d rather Dan Farnor won your 
 money than that you won his," said Fayal 
 quickly. 
 
 " Oh, if that is n t just like a girl ! " 
 
 " I wish it was like you ! It s like 
 grandpa, too." 
 
 " Dan Farnor says that grandpa must 
 be quite well off for a whaling cap n," 
 said Rod thoughtfully. 
 4 49
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " He s no business to say anything of 
 the sort!" blazed Fayal. "And, Rod, 
 Rod, how can you talk with him about it ! 
 What has come over you that you talk 
 with Dan Farnor about your own grand 
 father ? " Fayal had risen, and pushed 
 back her chair. 
 
 Rod was startled by her impetuosity. 
 
 " Why, he did n t mean anything, 
 Fay," he said; "and neither did I, I m 
 sure." 
 
 "Well, go to bed, anyway," said Fayal 
 wearily. " I m going. Dan Farnor never 
 says anything that he does n t mean," she 
 added. It was a conviction that had sud 
 denly come to her. " Good-night," and 
 she threw her arms around the boy s neck 
 and kissed him. 
 
 There was a dull ache in her throat, 
 and a blinded sensation in her eyes, and a 
 helpless, hurt feeling all over, as Fayal laid 
 her head on the pillow that night. She 
 was all unused to crying herself to sleep.
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 DURING the next week things did not 
 grow better. Rod was absent more and 
 more, and had less and less to say 
 about his employments. Fayal was too 
 proud to ask questions, but her misery 
 grew with the silence. He was restless, 
 excited, or discontented, and somewhat 
 sullen ; and her eyes, as they followed 
 him about the room, or as he made his 
 hasty exit after supper, were dark with 
 suffering. When, in all the years of their 
 two lives before now, had he gone off 
 without her for a " cruise around," morn 
 ing, afternoon, or evening ? He had not 
 even to call her; she was by his side as a 
 matter of course. They two, all igno 
 rant of the rarity of it, had known the bliss 
 of perfect, sufficing companionship ; and 
 now that it was past, of course it was on 
 one heart that the bitterness of the loss 
 chiefly bore. 
 
 5 1
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 The old people saw it all. Do not the 
 old people always ? And when youth thinks 
 age irresponsive, weak, submissive, is it 
 not only that it has so often seen it all ? 
 
 It was at sunset, one clear afternoon, 
 after the early tea, that Fayal threw a 
 shawl over her shoulders and stepped out 
 into the lane, and, nodding to her grand 
 mother at the window, with the smile 
 that had ceased in the last weeks to be 
 brilliant, and become only sweet, walked 
 slowly out towards the open country. 
 The kind old blue eyes watched her till 
 she was out of sight ; then Mrs. Whee- 
 lock turned around and faced her husband, 
 who was looking out of the window, too, 
 over her shoulder. 
 
 " Well ? " said she. 
 
 " Well ? " answered Captain Wheelock, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 There was a pause while Mrs. Whee 
 lock went over to her accustomed seat 
 and picked up her knitting. 
 
 " She is n t used to it," observed the 
 5 2
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 captain, somewhat apologetically. " It s 
 been plain sailing up to now." 
 
 " Yes," assented the old lady calmly. 
 " This is a voyage to learn." 
 
 Then they sat placidly into the twilight, 
 talking now about this little matter, then 
 that, while the girl whom they both loved 
 was absent, " taking her turn at the 
 wheel," as Captain Trent would have 
 said. 
 
 It did not take Fayal long to get into 
 the open country. The little spot of 
 houses was soon left behind, and the 
 wandering road, with its divisions of foot 
 paths twisting about in the grass which 
 here and there spilled over the low white 
 fences from the small door-yards, became 
 a yet more wandering guide over the com 
 mon and undivided land. Captain Trent s 
 house was the last one in this direction, 
 and as Fayal passed Mary Jane came to 
 the open door. 
 
 " Good-evening, Fayal Grant," she said. 
 " Have you heard that Susan Whitton s 
 53
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 brother, that s been studying so hard all 
 winter, sickened and died yesterday, over 
 awn the mainland ? " 
 
 " No," answered Fayal, leaning on the 
 palings. " Why, I m so sorry." 
 
 "Yes; the news came this forenoon. 
 William brought it over. I meant to 
 stawp in and tell you before, but there s 
 been a heavy sea awn all day, what with 
 getting the baking done and having Julia 
 Spence to help with the sewing." 
 
 " Poor Susan ! I m so sorry for her." 
 
 " Yes, it s a dreadful thing ; and he 
 was a very pretty young man, too." 
 
 " Yes, he was." 
 
 " And very well educated, too, but 
 you d never know it." 
 
 Fayal assented again, sadly. Both 
 women recognized that commendation 
 could go no further than this. 
 
 " Well, they say he 11 have a very 
 handsome obituary notice in the paper," 
 declared Mary Jane, with a cheerful con 
 fidence that even death may have its com- 
 54
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 pensations, " a very handsome notice 
 indeed." 
 
 " I m glad of that. I hope it will be 
 a comfort to Susan." Fayal s voice 
 dropped into a somewhat doubtful into 
 nation as she turned away. Her mind 
 reverted constantly to Susan, as she picked 
 her way over the deep ruts in the grassy 
 roads, to turn out of which put in appar 
 ently imminent peril the wheels of any 
 adventurous charioteer as well as his own 
 bones. To have one s brother lying dead 
 in one s sight, that was terrible! Fayal 
 had had no experience of death ; it was 
 as yet only a fact to her, not a reality ; 
 but she knew, at least, that it meant 
 strangeness, separation, and silence. It 
 was better even to see Rod loving her 
 less, caring less for her companionship, 
 than to have him gone, to live without 
 him, oh, a thousand times better ! Poor 
 Susan Whitton ! 
 
 But Fayal was still too young, too un 
 used to trouble, to find consolation in the 
 55
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 knowledge that there were worse things 
 than that she was undergoing j and it 
 was sadly enough that, having reached a 
 point where the sea stretched forth on 
 nearly three sides of her, while on the 
 other the level land was unrolled to the 
 horizon, with only the poor little huddled 
 gray houses of Seacove in the near distance 
 to break the lines of uniformity, she sank 
 down on the dry grass, and looked land 
 ward towards the sunset. She heard 
 nothing except the low accompaniment 
 that was never wanting at Seacove, the 
 break of the waves on the beach. As 
 far away from the village as this, even 
 those few sounds that come with twilight 
 were lost, the tinkling of the cowbells, 
 the shutting of doors and windows, the 
 good-nights of neighbors called to each 
 other across the lanes. There were rarely 
 more strident noises than these in Seacove ; 
 it was a singularly quiet place, and the 
 women had low voices. The western 
 heavens were bronze, illuminated with 
 56
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 molten gold, and in the midst hung the 
 sun, a globe of crimson fire, with, about 
 it, clouds of yellow and flaming rose. 
 Beneath, the earth itself glowed with a 
 tender color, which was dark only when 
 it touched the radiance of the sky. As 
 her eyes, dazzled by this magnificence, 
 turned to the sea, they saw there a tossing 
 stretch of tinted lights and shadows, and 
 a pink sky over it, the eastern clouds re 
 flecting the western brightness, and the 
 mist on the horizon shimmering with the 
 warmth that lay before its face. Perhaps 
 Fayal was too used to the glory of Sea- 
 cove sunsets to be much moved by them, 
 but it did not uplift her to-night. The 
 sun sank below the darker earth, the 
 flaming colors disappeared, as she sat 
 there ; the blue dropped down over the 
 green and lavender, and the eastern sky 
 lost its pink reflections and grew slate- 
 color before she moved at all ; then she 
 turned her head quickly, in response to 
 a voice behind her. 
 
 57
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " I have found you at last, Fayal," said 
 Dan Farnor. 
 
 Fayal turned slowly away again, and 
 did not reply for a moment. The sky 
 was dark, and the clouds, which had 
 seemed marshalled only to contribute to 
 the splendor of the occasion, showed them 
 selves instead opposing and dangerous 
 forces which threatened to sweep all light 
 from the earth. The sea was a wide- 
 stretching gray waste, shrouded by a mist ; 
 no longer a shimmering veil of beauty, but 
 a cold swathing garment, which would 
 make sight and motion impossible. 
 
 " I thought you went over to the main 
 land to-day," said Fayal. 
 
 " So I did go, but I ve just come back." 
 " Did you bring Rod with you ? " 
 She spoke with an anxiety which she 
 made no attempt to conceal. She was, 
 however, restraining her impulse to rush 
 home and greet her brother. She had 
 learned lately that this was not always 
 the best thing to do. 
 58
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " Yes, I brought Rod." 
 
 There was a contemptuous carelessness 
 in his voice which filled Fayal with wild 
 anger, but, with instinctive and unusual 
 self-control, she kept silence. She was 
 angry with herself, as well as with him, 
 that she had framed her question in just 
 that way. Farnor seated himself beside 
 her on the ground. 
 
 " I knew you did n t want him to stay 
 over there all night," added Farnor. 
 
 Fayal said nothing. She was, indeed, 
 glad that Rod was at home again, but she 
 would give this man no thanks for it. 
 
 " I guess you have learned that I can 
 bring him home to you about when I 
 want to," he went on. 
 
 Fayal flashed an indignant glance at him. 
 
 " This seems to be a voyage to learn," 
 she retorted, unconsciously making use of 
 the same quaint phrase that had risen to 
 her grandmother s lips ; " and I guess 
 you ve learned that you don t get much 
 thanks for it." 
 
 59
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " No, that s a fact," assented the man ; 
 " but they 11 come some time, when you 
 want him worse than you have yet." 
 
 Fayal turned towards him again, and 
 swept him with a look of superb disdain. 
 
 u You think that I 11 come to you for 
 him, do you ? " 
 
 " I know you will." 
 
 Fayal s form was slighter, her cheeks 
 were paler, and her eyes not so brilliant as 
 when she had thrown open the door of the 
 club-room, three weeks ago, but she looked 
 like a spirited young goddess still, as she 
 said slowly, 
 
 " So you re threatening me, Dan 
 Farnor ? " 
 
 " I 11 threaten you or anything else to 
 make you think of me, and acknowledge 
 that I m something to you," was the dog 
 ged answer. 
 
 " So that s the way the people where 
 
 you come from make love, is it ? That s 
 
 not the way to talk to a Seacove girl, 
 
 though. We re used to men down here." 
 
 60
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 The contempt in her voice was so gen 
 uine that it touched Farnor as perhaps 
 nothing else would have done, but not as 
 it would have touched a finer man. His 
 self-love was of the sort that could not bear 
 to know that he was underrated. 
 
 " And I am used to women," he returned 
 angrily ; " and I know there are other ways 
 of making a girl like you than the straight 
 forward way you are used to down here." 
 
 It was a foolish boast, and Farnor s sen 
 sitiveness to ridicule made him feel that it 
 was, after he had made it ; but he believed 
 it, all the same. Fayal laughed a low, 
 scornful laugh, which she would have been 
 incapable of a month earlier. 
 
 " I guess you need n t be afraid of any 
 body s thinking you re straightforward," 
 she said. 
 
 " I don t care what they think," he 
 rejoined sullenly. 
 
 "And as for making people like you, 
 well, I guess you might as well go at it, 
 next time, tilt a bucket, l the way we do 
 61
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 here ; you could n t have worse luck than 
 you ve had." Her mocking laugh and her 
 words were maddening to the man, who, 
 with all his faults, loved her. Moreover, 
 he had made more than one mistake this 
 evening, and the knowledge of this irritated 
 him into making more. 
 
 She had risen, and he picked himself up 
 too, and faced her. 
 
 "You will take back every word you 
 have said to me to-night," he asserted 
 angrily. 
 
 u Do you think I will ? " she questioned 
 contemptuously. " You ve said something 
 like that before. I am going home now," 
 she added. 
 
 " Going to find Rod ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered defiantly, " to find 
 Rod." 
 
 " Fayal, Fayal ! " exclaimed Farnor pas 
 sionately. She was very beautiful, standing 
 there in the misty twilight. " Why do you 
 treat me like an enemy ? " 
 
 u Because you are my enemy." 
 62
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " I could be your best friend." 
 "You will never be my best friend." 
 " I can bring Rod back to you." 
 " Rod will come back to me without 
 your help." 
 
 She spoke confidently, but she was tired, 
 tired out. She was utterly unused to 
 emotional crises. She would have left him, 
 but he followed her, and they walked back 
 in an almost complete silence, which he 
 broke at the door of the Wheelock cottage. 
 " I told you you d listen to me, and you 
 have listened to me," he said. "Now I 
 have warned you twice, and it is no use. 
 Next time you 11 talk differently." 
 
 His vanity told him that, although he 
 undoubtedly had a good deal of power in 
 his hands, the advantage of this interview 
 had not been altogether on his side. Cer 
 tain of her words and looks it irked him to 
 remember; for once the menace in his 
 words failed to rouse her. She scarcely 
 heard him, and certainly gave no heed to 
 what he might or might not be saying ; for 
 63
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 she had looked into the sitting-room win 
 dow, and had seen Rod sitting alone in the 
 high-backed rocker, his head on his hand. 
 Quickly she slipped into the house, and, 
 without a word or look at Farnor, shut the 
 door behind her, and left him standing out 
 side in the misty evening. The angry man 
 waited an instant, with the annoying con 
 sciousness that his last shot had missed fire, 
 and through the same window saw her 
 enter the sitting-room, toss off the shawl 
 that she had held tightly around her in the 
 chilly evening, and, going up behind Rod, 
 lay her hand softly on his tumbled curls. 
 He waited to see no more, but flung him 
 self away, down the tiny lane. He had 
 taken a path from which all such manliness 
 as was in him revolted ; he had risked some 
 money and a good deal of reputation, and 
 had fretted through many a tiresome hour, 
 in this stupid hole, as he characterized Sea- 
 cove, forgetting that places where we 
 have met love and revenge and disappoint 
 ment, face to face, can hardly be called 
 64
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 stupid by the most exacting of us. All 
 this he had done, and was doing, for the 
 sake of a woman who forgot his very 
 existence in the presence of a silly boy 
 whose weakness he had made his tool, and 
 who, unheeding even her own danger, left 
 him outside alone, that she might meet this 
 boy with a caress which, he told himself, 
 he would have given half his life to induce 
 her to bestow upon him. 
 
 VI 
 
 IT was not long before things reached a 
 climax which Fayal, had she been older 
 and wiser, might have foreseen, and, had 
 she been less single-minded in her devo 
 tion and a shade or two less truthful, 
 might possibly have prevented. 
 
 One night Rod did not come at all. As 
 usual, Fayal sat up long after the old peo 
 ple had gone to sleep, with that apparent 
 indifference which, to her youth and inten 
 sity, was a strange and an unnatural thing ; 
 5 65
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 but at midnight, an unheard-of hour for 
 Seacove dissipation to prolong itself to, she 
 too, exhausted and miserable, dragged her 
 self out of the big chair and crawled into 
 bed. 
 
 With one of those intuitions, strong 
 where love is strong, she felt that he 
 would not come home that night. She 
 was sure that she should not sleep, but 
 trouble and anxiety had not yet so cowed 
 the riotous health that was her birthright 
 that she could be wakeful through the long 
 hours which lead to morning. She slept 
 heavily, but waked early to hear Rod s step 
 outside and his hand on the latch. In a 
 few minutes she was downstairs, and, enter 
 ing the kitchen, found him building the fire, 
 his usual morning duty. He did not turn 
 to greet her as she came in, but poor Fayal 
 had learned to do without the almost lover- 
 like demonstrations which had formerly 
 been to her as sun and air. Yet it touched 
 her that he had come home in time to save 
 her the trouble of making the fire, as he 
 66
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 knew she would have done, rather than let 
 her grandfather suspect his absence. She 
 stepped quickly to his side. 
 
 " It was good of you, Rod " she 
 began. 
 
 u Don t ! " he interrupted sharply, as if 
 she had hurt him. " I m not good to do 
 anything ! Don t say it." Then he re 
 covered himself, and glanced up at her 
 only to look down again, and resume in 
 an altered voice, " You gave me a start, 
 Fay, coming in like that." 
 
 Fayal stood astonished, dismayed, by the 
 change in him. His face was pale and 
 haggard, with purple lines under his blue 
 eyes, and a worried, apprehensive look 
 strayed about his eyes and mouth. More 
 over, there was something else, inde 
 finable, unmistakable, something which 
 went straight to Fayal s heart, bringing a 
 feeling of dread ; something in his looks 
 and voice which indicated mysteriously that 
 here was no longer the petulance of a boy, 
 but the misery of a man. She sank down 
 67
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 beside him, the old protecting feeling strong 
 as ever, but with a certain new helplessness 
 which suggested that this was a trouble 
 from which she might not be able to save 
 him. Her arms about his neck, she said, 
 
 " Tell me, Rod, what is it ? Perhaps 
 we can do something." 
 
 " What makes you think there is any 
 thing to tell ? " he said quickly ; but he did 
 not push her away, as he sometimes did. 
 Instead, he rested his dishevelled curly 
 head against her in a tired sort of way, 
 which was balm to Fayal s heart. It 
 brought him back to her for the moment. 
 In fact, the boy was utterly exhausted ; 
 excited, disturbed, exultant, and depressed 
 as he had been for the last weeks, this 
 night s vigil had taken away his remaining 
 strength. 
 
 " Oh, Rod, as if I would n t know ! " 
 said Fayal softly. 
 
 " There is nothing, nothing," he said, 
 moving his head restlessly, and then relaps 
 ing into quiet. 
 
 68
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " What has happened ? " 
 
 " Nothing has happened." 
 
 "But just think, you have been out 
 all night." 
 
 Fayal spoke a little timidly. She was so 
 afraid to disturb what seemed like their old 
 affection. 
 
 " Never mind. Don t ask questions, 
 Fay," he answered wearily. 
 
 Her lips were closed, but her heart cried 
 out against this dreadful helplessness. Rod 
 was in trouble, and she could do nothing 
 for him ! In all her young life she had 
 never dreamed of such a catastrophe. His 
 silence continued, and in a few moments 
 they heard the heavy step of Captain 
 Wheelock in the next room. Rod roused 
 himself, and Fayal went about the prepara 
 tions for the early breakfast. After the 
 meal was over, she stood a moment in the 
 doorway, looking out over the shining sea. 
 Rod was beside her, knocking a nail or 
 two into a loose shingle. He had been on 
 his way out, as usual, when his grand- 
 69
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 mother had stopped him, and asked him to 
 attend to this small matter. A man s figure 
 turned into the little side lane that led down 
 to the bluff, and thence by wooden steps to 
 the sand below. 
 
 " There is Dan Farnor," said Fayal. 
 
 Rod turned so suddenly that he almost 
 dropped the hammer. 
 
 u Seems to me you can sight him most 
 any time of day." She spoke with uncon 
 cealed aversion ; evidently he was a blot on 
 the face of nature. 
 
 11 Coming here ? " asked Rod. 
 
 " Oh, I guess so. He never seems to 
 get time for a longer cruise." 
 
 She spoke with more open contempt 
 than was usual with her before Rod. Dan 
 Farnor s name had been practically tabooed 
 of late. This morning, however, her deep 
 resentment got the better of her; besides, 
 in spite of his silence, Rod and she had 
 drawn a little nearer together, though the 
 heavy curtain of dread and anxiety still shut 
 out hope and joy. 
 
 70
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 "Look here, Fay," Rod spoke rapidly, 
 and looked straight up into her eyes for the 
 first time that day; "don t go to sending 
 Dan Farnor all adrift, not till this blow 
 is over, anyway." 
 
 " He s a pretty poor mate for either of 
 us." 
 
 " Perhaps he is, and perhaps he is n t," 
 answered Rod doggedly. " Anyhow, I ve 
 shipped with him for a while, and I wish 
 you would n t give him the go-by every 
 time he speaks to you," and Rod struck 
 the hammer hard into the wall, so that the 
 whole house quivered. 
 
 " My land ! " said old Mrs. Wheelock, 
 out of the window. " There s no call to 
 knock away the timbers under her just yet." 
 
 There was a look of ungracious triumph 
 in Farnor s eyes, as he paused before them 
 and glanced at Rod, who met his look for 
 an instant, and then turned off and leaned 
 his arms idly against the low fence, swing 
 ing his hammer, with his back towards the 
 other two.
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 Fayal stood tall and straight, her hands 
 falling lightly clasped in front of her, look 
 ing down, with the scorn which had ani 
 mated her in their last interview reviving 
 in her eyes, in spite of Rod s pleading. 
 Nevertheless, it was not altogether fearless 
 this morning. Farnor recognized this with 
 a thrill of pleasure. The fear which had 
 haunted her since her first look at Rod s 
 face, that day, could not be driven out 
 before the man whom she instinctively felt 
 to be responsible for it. His eyes took in 
 her beauty with an intoxicating sense of 
 ownership. He loved her, he could even 
 be sorry for her ; but she should learn not 
 to put him in belittling situations; after 
 she had learned that, she should see how 
 he could love her ! 
 
 " It s a nice sailing morning, Miss 
 Fayal," he said. 
 
 " Yes," answered Fayal, in an expres 
 sionless tone, " I guess it is." 
 
 u We ve been having good weather, 
 lately. Let me see ; the moon fulls to- 
 72
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 night, don t it ? " went on Farnor specu- 
 latively. 
 
 "Couldn t tell if I suffered," replied 
 Fayal, with lamentable want of interest. 
 
 " I think it does. Suppose you take a 
 walk with me a little cruise, as you say 
 here after tea, to-night, and see if it 
 does n t." He spoke with an attempt at 
 easy intimacy which it annoyed him to feel 
 was not altogether successful. 
 
 " You need n t take the trouble to say 
 what we say here. Nobody 11 ever take 
 you for Seacove-born," remarked Fayal. 
 This statement from the mouth of a 
 dweller in Seacove was never meant to 
 be flattering. 
 
 Farnor s cheek flushed, but he repeated 
 his question quietly. He could afford to 
 bide his time. 
 
 " Will you go ? " 
 
 Fayal s evasive answer had not been 
 without its motive. She hated with all 
 her undisciplined soul to yield in the small 
 est matter to this detested man, but she 
 73
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 had caught a pleading glance from Rod, as, 
 with apparent inattention, he had listened 
 to Farnor s question, and she herself was 
 troubled by a new and strange emotion, 
 she was afraid. If she had known of what 
 she was afraid, the fear might have van 
 ished. It was not of this man personally, 
 and yet he had the power to inspire her 
 with this mysterious suggestion of dreadful 
 possibilities. She did not know just what 
 saving rope she might be casting from her 
 if she answered as she would fain have 
 done, and so she hesitated, and Farnor 
 repeated his question. 
 
 Distrust your first impulses, says Tal 
 leyrand; they are almost always true ones. 
 
 " I don t know but I will," she answered, 
 carelessly enough for a girl who had no 
 social training, only feminine instincts, to 
 teach her deception. Then she went into 
 the house ; angry, helpless, frightened, and 
 contemptuous, she could trust herself no 
 longer. Rod and Farnor exchanged a few 
 words, and then walked away together. 
 74
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 "Well, Fayal," said Mrs. Wheelock, 
 her bright blue eyes scanning the girl with 
 placid deliberation, " I guess you d better 
 make you a cap that don t muss your hair 
 like that when you take it ofF. You cer 
 tainly do look like split." 
 
 VII 
 
 THE early darkness had fallen, and the 
 moon was just rising over the sea, as 
 Fayal stepped from the doorway and 
 turned down the lane with Farnor. They 
 took the way through the village towards 
 the lighthouse on the other side. The air 
 was cool, but there was none of that raw 
 chilliness which breathes through autumn 
 evenings farther inland. The shadows of 
 the little houses lay in black irregularity 
 across the moonlit road. The short turns 
 and windings were so many mysterious 
 paths leading to what might be anything, 
 but which proved to be nothing at all 
 save passages into further grassy moonlit 
 75
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 roads, with black shadows checkering their 
 whiteness, and always between them a 
 glimpse of the dancing, gleaming, moonlit 
 sea. 
 
 To Farnor there was in this walk the 
 suggestion of a triumphal procession, but 
 he was prevented from enjoying it to its 
 fullest extent by the unapproachable at 
 titude of the girl beside him, whose light 
 steps led her at an even swinging pace 
 over sandy road, trodden by-path, and 
 short-cropped turf alike. Despite the 
 keen weapon he carried, and that she as 
 yet knew nothing of, he could not feel 
 secure of her ; there was a firm line in the 
 shutting of the mouth, a haughty turn in 
 the way she held her head, that forbade 
 security. 
 
 After they had left the village behind 
 them, their way lay along the edge of the 
 bluff, which here rose steeper, while the 
 sea washed its base. Now and then sand 
 and pebbles, loosened by their footsteps, 
 rolled down the steep slope into the foam. 
 76
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 Here and there it was dangerous walking, 
 so close ran a straggling fence to the edge 
 of the bluff, leaving outside it a narrow 
 foothold, in its nature precarious, as it 
 jutted out over the crumbling earth, ready, 
 apparently, to break off under a light foot 
 fall. Farnor held out his arm to steady 
 her, as she slipped, with catlike agility, 
 around a not too steady post ; but she 
 pushed it aside with a scornful indifference 
 that made it difficult to proffer such assist 
 ance a second time. 
 
 " There s no call to dub a Seacove girl 
 going round here," she said. "You d 
 better look out for yourself." 
 
 Indeed, he found it necessary ; and it 
 was not until they gained the open ground 
 beyond, where the straggling fence, having 
 imprudently left the guiding neighborhood 
 of the bluff, lost itself in the thick low 
 growth of grape and huckleberry, that he 
 found conversation practicable. Here they 
 stood together, for Fayal turned and faced 
 him, her slight figure standing dark against 
 77
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 the uniformity of low moor and level sea, 
 while in the distance rose the shaft of the 
 lighthouse, with its revolving light throw 
 ing broken rays upon the expanse of 
 waters. 
 
 " Well, what did you ask me to come 
 out for, Dan Farnor ? " 
 
 Farnor hesitated ; there was a certain 
 pleasure in holding back a moment. 
 
 " Is n t it worth while to come out just 
 to see such a sight as this ? " he answered, 
 waving his hand towards the sea. 
 
 Fayal glanced around her, shrugging her 
 shoulders. She knew every inch of that 
 view, and loved it better than he could; 
 and the assumption that he had come out 
 to show it to her was irritating, but she did 
 not put the feeling into words. 
 
 " And, besides, I never see you in Sea- 
 cove," went on Farnor. " But I suppose 
 you don t think that s much of a reason, 
 do you ? " 
 
 " When you get through taking sound 
 ings, and know where you are," said Fayal 
 78
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 deliberately, "you sing out, and I 11 listen 
 to you," and she walked on a few steps. 
 
 "Well, listen, then." Farnor spoke 
 with more decision. " I brought you out 
 here " 
 
 " You did n t bring me ; I came," in 
 terrupted Fayal contemptuously. " It 11 
 take a bigger craft than you are to tow 
 me." 
 
 Her dread of what he might be going to 
 say impelled her to reckless mockery. She 
 would say what she could to exasperate 
 him now; she might be silenced later. 
 
 " To tell you again that I love you ; to 
 tell you that this time you shall not escape 
 me ; to tell you that you are helpless 
 against disgrace without me ; to get you to 
 make me a promise." 
 
 " Reminds me of Father Abbey s will," 
 said Fayal, with desperate nonchalance, 
 although her lips were white, and that 
 dreadful word "disgrace" had tightened 
 her heartstrings and made it hard to breathe. 
 " There are so many important things " 
 79
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " I have come," broke in Farnor brutally, 
 provoked beyond self-control, " to get you 
 to buy your brother Rod out of state s 
 prison by promising to be my wife ! " 
 
 The blow did its work. Fayal stag 
 gered a little, but recovered herself before 
 he could touch her. She knew the worst 
 now, and the worst was bad beyond her 
 half-formed anticipations. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she gasped. 
 The moonlit sea had come up to her feet 
 and receded, and the lighthouse had toppled 
 over and righted itself again, before she spoke. 
 
 " I mean this," said Farnor doggedly ; 
 " that your brother Rod, having gambled 
 away more than all his money to me, has 
 forged your grandfather s name to a check, 
 and that I have it here," and he drew out 
 his pocket-book, and took from it a folded 
 paper. He was half ashamed of his bru 
 tality ; it was not in just such ways that 
 he usually recommended himself to women, 
 but now that he had begun her eyes com 
 manded him to finish. " Give me the 
 80
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 promise I want, and you can have it, 
 tear it up, give it back to Rod, anything 
 you like : you will never hear of it again 
 from me." 
 
 Farnor really thought himself generous 
 in making this statement. 
 
 " Let me see it," said Fayal huskily. 
 
 He handed her the bit of paper, and she 
 gazed at it blankly, but seeing every word. 
 It might not have been a wise or a safe 
 thing for a man in Farnor s position to do, 
 to place such a perishable bit of evidence 
 in the hands of a desperate woman ; but 
 not for a moment did even he misjudge 
 Fayal. There were the unmistakable 
 words, a promise to pay one hundred 
 and fifty dollars to Daniel S. Farnor or 
 bearer, signed " Amos Wheelock " in a 
 pretty fair imitation of the old captain s 
 cramped hand. One hundred and fifty 
 dollars ! Fayal had never seen so much 
 money in her life. Had Rod lost his 
 senses, that he dared to palter with such 
 vast sums ? 
 
 6 8 1
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 As the girl stood there with the bit of 
 paper fluttering in her hand, instead of 
 the dark water, and the silver radiance, and 
 the level stretch of gloomy moor, she saw 
 the scene in the cottage as it might be, as 
 it would be ! the scene that, she realized 
 with a thrill of suffering sympathy, must 
 have been before Rod s eyes every hour 
 since he traced those ineffaceable words. 
 " Amos Wheelock," she looked at the 
 crooked characters again. No wonder the 
 letters were somewhat cramped and waver 
 ing. The signature from which they were 
 copied was that of a hand sturdy and 
 weather-beaten, used to hard work, and 
 hard blows if need be, and hard service in 
 icy seas, but which would have shrunk 
 from a touch of dishonesty as quickly as 
 the delicate fingers of a scrupulous woman. 
 What would it be to Captain Wheelock 
 when he knew that his grandson, his daugh 
 ter s child, had not hesitated at a crime 
 from which unprincipled sinners sometimes 
 shrink ? She was too ignorant of business 
 82
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 to know that the fraud was too unskilful 
 to be sure of success, or of anything like 
 it. If she had, it would have made little 
 difference ; her grandfather s heart would 
 go as near to being broken in one case as 
 in the other. Then her grandmother ! 
 She had to the full the placid calm that the 
 sea seems to teach the women who live by 
 it ; but Seacove placidity was not proof 
 against an attack of this kind ; this was 
 a sort of trouble Seacove women never 
 " shipped for." And Rod ! poor Rod, poor 
 boy ! What would life be worth to him if 
 this were known ? He would have to go 
 away, of course ; and to Fayal going away 
 from her own little corner of the world 
 meant expatriation as much as if it had 
 been a larger one. But where could he 
 go ? As for herself, why, she should 
 die without him ! The uncertainty, the 
 anxiety, of these last weeks were killing 
 her, she felt sure. It was too hard, it was 
 too dreadful ! Her heart cried out again at 
 the truth of it. Her glance fell again upon 
 83
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 the bit of paper, and she held it out to 
 Farnor, while her eyes travelled over the 
 silver path beyond the dark waters, and 
 with incongruous recollection she fancied 
 herself the funny, sad little mermaid over 
 Captain Small s door, who longed with all 
 her red, white, and blue soul to be on the 
 sea again. Perhaps somewhere away from 
 here, somewhere, there was a place 
 
 " Well, what do you think about it ? " 
 said Farnor s voice, half mocking, half 
 pitying, at her side. 
 
 She came back to realities with a throb. 
 " I think you are a coward ! " she an 
 swered suddenly. So intense was her 
 tone that the words rang through the air 
 as if a bullet had whizzed by his ear. 
 
 " You ve said as much before," he re 
 plied. " I want to know what you are 
 going to do." 
 
 " You mean that if I don t make you 
 the promise you want, you will show that 
 piece of paper you will " 
 
 "Will take it over to the mainland 
 84
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 to the bank j or else, to smooth matters 
 over, I 11 take it direct to Captain Whee- 
 lock himself." 
 
 Fayal shuddered, as if she had been struck. 
 
 " But if we pay you back," she began 
 eagerly, " Rod and I ? We can ; only 
 give us time." 
 
 Farnor made a gesture of impatience. 
 u It is n t the money I want," he said. 
 " I want your promise ; and," he added, 
 with a muttered word or two she did not 
 hear, " have it I will, or else that brother 
 of yours will make up to me for it." 
 
 The struggle was three parts over. 
 Fayal thought there was but one thing 
 she could not bear. 
 
 " Do you want a wife that will hate 
 you every hour of her life ? " she de 
 manded, " that will curse the hour she 
 first saw you ? " 
 
 " I want you." 
 
 " One that will despise you, and will 
 never look at yours when there is another 
 face she can turn to ? " 
 
 85
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 Farnor winced a little. The girl was 
 cruel in her way, too. But he answered 
 again, " I want you, Fayal, whatever 
 you do." 
 
 " Do you want a wife that would throw 
 you overboard, and never give you a rope 
 to cling to, for the sake of lightening 
 the ship for Rod Grant : " she went on 
 relentlessly. 
 
 We 11 see about that later,* said Far 
 nor sullenly, who could not let pass alto 
 gether unnoticed so keen an affront to his 
 vanity. u I want your promise, and I 
 want you." 
 
 " So that s the kind of wives your sort 
 of men want ? " said Fayal, with swift 
 scorn. tt You want a wife that cares 
 more for her brother s little finger than 
 for your whole body and soul ! " she added, 
 as if it were an unimportant afterthought. 
 
 Probably Fayal could never know how 
 much Farnor had to bear that night. For 
 a man of sensitive vanity, such unmiti 
 gated contempt from the woman he loved 
 86
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 could not be easy to undergo, even though 
 he held the winning cards in his hand. 
 But he answered persistently, " You know 
 what I Ve said, Fayal, and I stand to it." 
 
 The moon was declining towards the 
 west. They had been out a long time. 
 The whole world grew dimmer, for the 
 clouds were coming up from the south, 
 and now and then fluttered across the 
 face of the moon. The tide was at the 
 full, and broke more noisily below them. 
 
 " Then," said Fayal suddenly, her face 
 white, but her eyes ablaze, u I will be your 
 wife ! I give you my promise, and I 
 throw it to you as I would a bone to 
 a dog ! " 
 
 There was a moment s pause. In spite 
 of himself, Farnor was startled by the vic 
 tory he had gained. It was difficult to 
 feel that there were laurels on his brow, 
 and yet it was a triumph. She had made 
 him the promise, and the fact that she 
 would rather have died did not detract 
 from its value. It was Fayal who broke 
 87
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 the silence. She sank down in a little 
 heap on the ground, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh, Rod ! " she cried. " Rod, Rod, 
 I love you so ! " 
 
 It would have angered her to give way 
 before this man, if she had thought of 
 him. But for the moment even her mis 
 ery was forgotten, and she remembered 
 only the boy who, she felt, now that she 
 had saved him, might come back to her. 
 
 Her tears changed Farnor s mood, as 
 women s tears will change a man s mood 
 one way or the other. 
 
 "Oh, Fayal," he said, sinking down 
 beside her, " do not be so hard on me. 
 You have always been so hard ! Try 
 to feel how I love you ! It will not be 
 anything dreadful to let me love you. I 
 will make you happy, dear. I will in 
 deed. I have done it all for love of you, 
 because you would not let me come near 
 you any other way ! " 
 
 He would have taken her into his arms, 
 but she seemed more unapproachable than
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 ever, now that she had yielded, and some 
 thing held him away. She did not heed 
 him, and finally he stopped making inco 
 herent protestations. His knowledge of 
 women, though not so deep as a well nor 
 so wide as a church door, was still enough 
 to teach him that whatever mitigating in 
 fluences her spirit might become subject 
 to must be exerted later. 
 
 It was not long before she too grew 
 quiet. She raised her head, and, looking 
 into his eyes with an utter absence of con 
 sciousness, said wearily, " Well, I guess 
 you have what you wanted. Give me the 
 paper, now." 
 
 Had what he wanted ! The uncon 
 scious mockery of the words fell upon 
 the stormy current of passion, pity, and 
 remorseful triumph that swept through 
 the man s soul. Would he ever have 
 what he wanted ? Could this girl ever 
 conceive what the love was that he 
 wanted, for which he had given so much ? 
 In the moment of discouragement his 
 89
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 vanity came to his aid. Oh, yes, she 
 would learn ; he had nothing to do now 
 but to teach her ! 
 
 " Here it is," he said, holding it out 
 to her for the second time. " It is 
 yours, to do what you like with. Tear it 
 up." 
 
 " No," she answered, rising, " I shall 
 keep it, and you shall be paid " 
 
 " I am paid ! " he interrupted. " Oh, 
 Fayal, will you not see that it is nothing 
 to me now ? " 
 
 " But," she went on immovably, " it 
 shall not do the harm you meant it to. 
 Good-by." 
 
 " c Good-by ! " he exclaimed. " What 
 do you mean by saying good-by now ? 
 I m going back with you." 
 
 " No ! " she cried, turning towards him, 
 in a burst of fierce impatience. " No, 
 you shall not, not to-night ! I will not 
 bear it ! I want to go alone ! I want to 
 take soundings," she said, with that sea 
 faring turn of speech never long absent 
 90
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 from the lips of Seacove inhabitants, " and 
 I can t do it with you alongside." 
 
 Her manner was so vehement that 
 Farnor paused, in spite of himself. The 
 usual plea that she could not be allowed 
 to go so far alone so late at night would 
 be laughed to scorn. 
 
 " But suppose anything should hap 
 pen," he began. 
 
 " What should happen ? " she demanded 
 superbly. 
 
 Truly, what should happen ? He knew 
 enough of Seacove fashions to recognize 
 the fact that Seacove women of all ages 
 went from one end to the other of the 
 primitive little village at all hours, with 
 not so much as a thought of any attendant 
 unpleasantness. Nevertheless, he began 
 another protest. She interrupted him : 
 " If you stir from here, Dan Farnor, 
 or try to hail me, till I ve had time to 
 get down past John Small s, you can have 
 your prize money back again, and I 11 
 have my promise back again, and Rod 
 9 1
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 and I 11 pull through somehow, though 
 the wind is dead ahead ! " 
 
 It was the old Fayal who flung him 
 this defiance. She threw her head back ; 
 her eyes sparkled, and her sweet, strong 
 young voice thrilled with the stress of 
 her anger. She had borne all she could, 
 and the thought of longer companionship 
 with this man whom she hated, and yet 
 whom she had promised to endure, brought 
 a shock of reaction. It warned Farnor 
 not to let victory slip from him at the 
 moment of attainment, and he stepped 
 back in sign of sullen acquiescence. 
 
 She turned and walked swiftly home 
 ward, the bit of paper grasped tightly in 
 her hand. She would show it to Rod, 
 tell him that everything was safe, and 
 they would have some happy days to 
 gether again before they need think of 
 anything else, anything that shut off 
 into desolate obscurity the after-years of 
 her life. She would not think of that ; 
 she would only think that Rod was saved. 
 92
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 One such lesson was enough, she was 
 sure ; he would never do a second time 
 anything that would bring into his face 
 that terrified, despairing look she had seen 
 there that morning. She had perfect faith 
 that Rod was saved. But as she walked 
 on, in the light of the setting moon, with 
 the surge of the high tide beneath her and 
 the moors stretching away into " undis- 
 tinguishable gray " at her side, and instead 
 of the friendly rays of the lighthouse only 
 here and there, in the village before her, 
 the faint glimmer of a belated candle, the 
 heavy consciousness of what she had done 
 settled down upon her. Yet she hardly 
 knew what it was. Only she felt dimly 
 that upon the freedom of her life had been 
 placed fetters ; that she, to whom affection 
 for others had been as natural as air, had 
 met with something called love, which 
 was a burden and a nightmare ; that the 
 man against whose presence her soul re 
 volted had acquired some power over her, 
 which, deepest humiliation of all, she had 
 93
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 consented to. She left the broad path 
 along the moor, and followed wearily the 
 narrow little footpath between the fence 
 and the treacherous edge of the bluff. 
 Her eyes were blurred by bitter tears, as, 
 at a place where the path was narrowed 
 to two or three inches, the sandy earth 
 crumbled rapidly away under her feet. 
 She caught at the fence which leaned over 
 the descent, but her hand slipped or she 
 lacked the usual strength, and she did not 
 save herself. Even as she fell she was 
 not much frightened ; it did not occur to 
 her to scream ; it was a question only of 
 rolling a few feet down the sandy bluff, 
 and she was too tired and confused to 
 make any desperate struggle. But the 
 slope was steeper here than at any other 
 point, and with the smooth round pebbles 
 which rolled noiselessly down, in the sud 
 den collapse of a large mass of the over 
 hanging edge, were some sharp, jagged 
 bits of stone, which had not yet yielded 
 to the friction of the waves ; and as Fayal, 
 94
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 the force with which she fell increased by 
 her effort to seize the support of the fence, 
 struck heavily almost at the bottom of 
 the bluff, her temple came sharply in con 
 tact with such a flint-like edge, and with 
 a little moan of pain she closed her eyes, 
 and, for the first time in her healthy life, 
 sank into utter unconsciousness. 
 
 VIII 
 
 THERE they found her early the next 
 morning. 
 
 It was Rod who gave the alarm. He 
 had watched and waited for her to come 
 home, as she so often had done for him ; 
 and then had fallen asleep, in the tall, 
 stiff chair, to awake, dazed and frightened, 
 at daylight, to realize that Fayal was not 
 there. His first step had been to find 
 Farnor, who, white as death, shook him 
 roughly by the shoulder and bade him 
 " wake up," when he cried out to him for 
 news of his sister. The man could tell 
 95
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 him nothing except that she left him safe 
 and well the night before. Farnor had 
 taken the same way home, but one place 
 was so like another that he had not no 
 ticed that at one spot the earth had freshly 
 caved in, and, if he had, would not have 
 dreamed of danger to the swift-footed girl 
 who had so scornfully rejected his offer 
 of help a short time before. 
 
 They did not think of looking for her 
 near the path for some time. Farnor and 
 Rod were devoured by a mutual fear that 
 she had run away from what might be 
 disgrace, and was sure to be suffering. 
 It was Captain Wheelock who first saw 
 her red cap, as it lay beside her at the 
 foot of the bluff. He stood a moment 
 looking down, his weather-beaten face 
 drawn and white ; then, his voice, which 
 had rung out sturdily in so many fierce 
 blasts and conflicts, feebly hailed Captain 
 Small. 
 
 " Come here, mate," the old man called. 
 " Here s my little girl, here s Fayal." 
 96
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 They did not think at first she could 
 be dead, the wound on her temple was 
 apparently so slight and her face so fair 
 and still; but in a few moments they saw 
 what had happened. The sea that Fayal 
 had loved since her birth, the sea of which 
 she had never known fear, had crept up 
 over her head, as she lay there unresisting, 
 and, gently rippling over the beautiful 
 features, had brought her through the 
 gates of unconsciousness into the inner 
 place of death. Then, receding as it had 
 come, it had left her there above the level 
 of the low tide, but, with the capricious 
 friendliness of absolute power, had with 
 drawn from her grasp the secret she would 
 have hidden, to keep it for her forever. 
 
 The bit of paper, the evidence of Rod s 
 guilt and Farnor s intrigue, had been 
 washed from the loosened fingers, and 
 borne away beyond the grasp of human 
 hands, powerless for good or evil ; but its 
 purpose was accomplished, Fayal had 
 rescued Rod. The all-wise power which 
 7 97
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 had decreed that her self-sacrifice should 
 not be in vain touched, through her death, 
 with no uncertain hand the impulses for 
 good which had been temporarily sus 
 pended, together with the adoring love 
 which Rod had always felt for Fayal. 
 
 Rod and Farnor did not exchange many 
 words before the latter left finally for the 
 mainland. The boy did not know just 
 what had happened that night between the 
 man and his sister, and would never, per 
 haps, realize how thoroughly Farnor had 
 been his enemy ; but some instinct told 
 him that he had nothing further to fear. 
 
 " Dan," said he, as he waited with him 
 on the dock for the incoming boat, " I 11 
 pay you every cent of that money, if I 
 live." 
 
 Farnor had been very quiet for the last 
 three or four days, but it was with a burst 
 of savage impatience that he turned upon 
 him. 
 
 " Curse you ! " he said. " Do you 
 suppose I ever cared for the money or 
 98
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 for you, you young scoundrel ? What I 
 did I did for the sake of one a hair of 
 whose head was worth more than your 
 whole body ; and your miserable life is 
 left you, and hers," the man s voice 
 broke in spite of himself, " hers was 
 dragged from her by our accursed selfish 
 ness, yours and mine ! Keep still about 
 the money, can t you ? " 
 
 Rod stared at him in a hopeless, help 
 less sort of way. He had believed this 
 man to be his friend, and the truth added 
 another pang to what he was undergoing. 
 He was not wise enough to know that all 
 Farnor s disappointed passion, furious re 
 gret, and stinging remorse spoke in that 
 final outburst. 
 
 IX 
 
 A WEEK later, at the Club, Captain Sash 
 expressed the general sentiment when he 
 said, 
 
 " She set great store by Rod. I think 
 she rated him most too high." 
 99
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 " Women do," said Captain Small, with 
 melancholy intuition. " They never know 
 what sort of vessel carries the best kind 
 of ballast." 
 
 " But, after all," objected Captain Trent, 
 " he ain t sailing as close to the wind as 
 he was. It s done him a pile of good. 
 Fayal " and Captain Trent, who was 
 a soft-hearted fellow, wiped his eyes with 
 the back of his hand "would have liked 
 to see it." 
 
 " I wish," said Captain Small solemnly, 
 " that she had been married." 
 
 There was a pause. Farnor s figure 
 came before the eyes of each one of the 
 group, and they could not coincide with 
 the judgment that would have given their 
 favorite to Farnor. 
 
 " Yes," concluded Captain Small, " I 
 wish she could have been married to 
 a husband." 
 
 " Yes," assented one after the other, 
 " that would have been better." 
 
 This form of statement removed their
 
 Rod s Salvation 
 
 objections. Farnor was not the Seacove 
 conception of a husband. He might have 
 been the man Fayal Grant married, but 
 that was all. 
 
 Then a stillness fell upon the little group, 
 and the smoke grew denser in the low-ceiled 
 room, and no one broke the silence. 
 
 Each one of those weather-beaten old 
 men, hardened to danger and death, trained 
 in rough schools, looking upon vicissi 
 tude as the breath of daily life, was 
 longing for the sight of a young figure, 
 which should stand on the threshold, the 
 door swinging open before her with a 
 breath of keen salt air, and, superb in 
 youthful health, radiant in youthful beauty, 
 laugh in upon their deliberations. 
 
 Fayal Grant had been their tropics and 
 their Italy, and now that she came no 
 more their faithful hearts found the old 
 seafaring world a shade the grayer.
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 DEAR FRANCES, I am here. That has 
 often the air of a self-evident statement ; 
 believe me, in this case, it is not one. When I 
 climbed out of the stage last week, after being 
 jolted and precipitated and playfully tossed and 
 caught again for twenty miles or so, it was a 
 matter for serious doubt whether I was all here or 
 not. But I think I am all essential parts of me, 
 at least. There are certain airs and graces which 
 a too censorious world considers essential parts 
 of me which I have left behind somewhere on 
 the road. Never mind ; I shall undoubtedly 
 find them on the way back ; they are not the 
 sort of property to tempt the rustic of the region 
 to appropriation. In fact, I may as well make 
 a clean breast of it, for you will be sure to find 
 it out. I am at present having an acces of sim 
 plicity true, unassumed, unpicturesque sim- 
 
 102
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 plicity simplicity without any arriere pensee 
 whatever. It seems to me that I have longed 
 for this opportunity all my life to be entirely 
 natural, without giving a thought to how my 
 being so was going to affect anybody. It is 
 not only that I eat when I am hungry, and go 
 to bed when I am tired, and sit still when I ve 
 a mind, but it has reached my mental attitude 
 too. I don t anticipate or plan, and I don t 
 see why anybody should. I know what you 11 
 say that it is just another spell of " feeling the 
 hollowness well, perhaps it is ; I know that 
 same old emotion turns up in all sorts of forms. 
 Or it may be that the air is beginning to exert 
 the beneficial effect the doctor says it possesses. 
 
 The mistress of the house I mean the 
 two mistresses of the house are amusing, in 
 fact, likable. They are both little, gray- 
 haired, widowed women, only one is littler, 
 grayer- haired, and, I dare say, more widowed 
 than the other. They are decidedly women of 
 their world, only it reaches each of them in 
 a different way. The one to whom I have 
 hitherto applied the comparative degree is also 
 the younger, and it is she that has the imagi 
 nation. It is an imagination that has never 
 been developed by circumstances, but to her 
 103
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 what is emotional or abstract or picturesque 
 appeals. I am clever to have found this out, 
 because it is difficult to recognize the emotional 
 or the abstract or the picturesque in the mass 
 of detail with which she cumbers her narrative, 
 but I have found it out. The other one has 
 a burning interest though sometimes quenched 
 by the ice-water of New England reticence 
 
 in purely material questions. Where do I 
 get my clothes ? I think that is about the 
 most satisfactory subject with her. I tell her, 
 and then I feel snubbed because she has never 
 heard of the places. But she rolls them after 
 ward as sweet morsels under her tongue, which 
 is something of a consolation. Have I been 
 unnecessarily detailed in my description ? 
 Well, that is the extent of my social envi 
 ronment, unless you count the people who 
 come over now and then with supplies, with 
 whom I always exchange a word or two from 
 the front steps that is part of the simplicity, 
 you understand. Oh, yes, there is one other 
 
 he is a supply himself of the pulpit 
 vn the " Centre," four miles from us. Now, I 
 see you smile. At last, you say, we have 
 come to the human interest. No, really, 
 Frances you know I would not hesitate to 
 
 104
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 tell you if it were, but let me convince you. 
 He lives in the only other house in this part 
 of the country boards there, while he 
 preaches for the summer in the aforesaid 
 pulpit. So much in favor of your theory, I 
 admit. He is good-looking quite but 
 with an expression that betokens too much 
 confidence in life s being a pleasant thing 
 you know the kind a little trusting, if any 
 thing ; which circumstance, fully considered, 
 cannot be said to be for or against. But listen. 
 I have heard him preach ; I have met him 
 once. He is narrow, opinionated, the plain, 
 unvarnished product of a theological seminary 
 of the most orthodox proclivities. Need I 
 say more ? He has all the disadvantages of 
 the unfledged of every kind, with the added 
 hindrance of profound conviction that he has 
 divine warrant for ignorance a special out 
 growth of this variety. Were the magnificent, 
 broad, intellectual clergymen that you and I so 
 much admire ever incased in this sort of shell, 
 I wonder! I feel that I have placed the 
 Reverend Alfred Neal above suspicion. 
 
 Write to me, dear, and I will continue to 
 tell you about my simplicity. 
 
 Yours always, BETTY. 
 
 I0 5
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 Miss Everard laid down her pen and 
 sought in her portfolio for an envelope. 
 Then she took up her letter and read it 
 hastily through. " Betty ! " she said to 
 herself, as she folded and addressed it to 
 Miss Waring, " that is not a name to be 
 bestowed under a republican government. 
 It ought to have Lady before it, and 
 then it suggests powder and plumes and 
 patches. Lady Betty ! How pretty she 
 would be in a ruff and high red-heeled 
 shoes ! " She had risen while she solilo 
 quized, and, placing her stamped and 
 sealed letter upon her dressing-table, she 
 glanced in the mirror. " But just plain 
 Betty ! Well, perhaps not hopelessly 
 plain Betty " and she smiled calmly 
 at her own reflection, " but unpowdered, 
 unplumed, unpatched, nineteenth-century 
 Betty that is highly inappropriate." 
 
 She sauntered indolently to the small 
 
 window and looked across at the pine 
 
 woods, whose fragrant, spicy breath came 
 
 into the room below the slightly raised 
 
 106
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 sash. It was one of those windows to 
 open which demands strength which is 
 as the strength of ten, and which, when 
 opened, refuse to be closed again save 
 with the velocity and archaic force of a 
 battering-ram. " I have been used," pon 
 dered Miss Everard, with that volatility 
 which comes with the accomplishment of 
 a definite duty, " to windows which re 
 mained up without visible means of sup 
 port. Since I came to Kenyon s I have 
 learned better. It seems to me that one 
 volume of Roman history and a hairbrush 
 don t keep that window up high enough." 
 She gazed idly round the room. " I guess 
 one of my second-best slippers will about 
 do it," and she inserted that bit of per 
 sonal property, with no mean skill, so that 
 the high heel raised the window two or 
 three inches farther. " That is n t much," 
 she concluded, somewhat warm with the 
 effort, " but it is something. How deli 
 cious that pine fragrance is ! " and she 
 bent her head so that her little nose drew 
 107
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 in long breaths of the sweet air through 
 the opening. Then she walked over 
 again to the dressing-table, took down a 
 broad hat which hung at one side, and, 
 picking up her letter, went slowly out of 
 the room. At the door she paused and 
 looked back. 
 
 " I suppose that window will come 
 down," she soliloquized, still idly, " and 
 grind that slipper and the hairbrush to 
 powder. Never mind. Rome can stand 
 it and they must have hairbrushes over 
 at the 4 Centre. There was an in 
 consequence in whatever she did which 
 was itself a conscious charm for her in 
 her life here. It was a delightful sense, 
 this of having no duties, of being able 
 to saunter from table to window and 
 back again, to put on her hat, and make 
 stop-gaps of useful information when she 
 chose, after the hurry, social, intellectual, 
 and physical, of the last five years. 
 
 On the wide door-stone, in two little 
 chairs, sat Mrs. Mint and Mrs. Thrum. 
 108
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 It demanded a trained faculty of observa 
 tion to immediately recognize the fact that 
 these two chairs were just alike. It struck 
 most people, as it had struck Miss Ever- 
 ard, that they were totally unlike, and it 
 was only after coming across them several 
 times when they were empty that one 
 perceived that it was the figures of their 
 usual occupants which imparted this air 
 of distinct dissimilarity. Now, for instance, 
 Mrs. Thrum s was an alert, inquisitive, 
 somewhat self-willed rocking-chair, as she 
 sat on the edge and tipped it forward to 
 the extreme limit of equilibrium ; when 
 it went back it flew back suddenly, as if 
 only to take breath for another prolonged 
 pause in its constrained position on the 
 front end of the rocker. As for Mrs. 
 Mint s, hers was a calm, even-tempered, 
 mildly authoritative chair. It moved 
 slowly back and forth, and asserted itself 
 no further than by way of gentle accom 
 paniment to the statements made from its 
 depths. Except now and then when there 
 109
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 was a pause, then it furnished suggestions 
 of its own, its slow, regular motion con 
 veying to all intelligent minds the assur 
 ance that the world went on just about as 
 well whether we looked after it or not, and 
 there was no use in being uncomfortable. 
 
 " Mrs. Thrum," said Miss Everard s 
 clear voice in the hall, " shall I leave my 
 letter here on the table ? or is it too late 
 for the butcher ? " 
 
 " Land, yes ! " said Elvira Thrum. 
 " He was here before you was up." 
 
 " But Edward has n t been from the 
 store, Elvira," suggested her sister. 
 
 " No, and he won t be here till he 
 thinks I ve forgot that he brought me 
 cream o tartar and labelled it saleratus," 
 replied Elvira, somewhat grimly. 
 
 " I don t know as he will," assented 
 Mrs. Mint. Betty sauntered to the door 
 and leaned against the side, with the letter 
 still in her hand, pending the discussion 
 of its chances. Both the little old women 
 turned and looked up at her.
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 " Perhaps there 11 be somebody along 
 from the other house," hazarded Camilla, 
 " on the way to Centre. You might stick 
 it in the railing in case anybody is." 
 
 " Are those cherries artificial ? " inquired 
 Elvira. 
 
 " Cherries ? " said Betty. " Oh, yes, 
 very artificial indeed," and she put up her 
 hand and pinched one of the red orna 
 ments of her hat. 
 
 " I would n t wonder," continued Ca 
 milla, rocking to and fro, her hands folded 
 in her lap, " but what Mr. Neal would be 
 going on down this morning. He calls on 
 old Miss StifF pretty regular." 
 
 " Did you buy them on it ? " asked Elvira. 
 
 " Er yes I think I did," answered 
 Betty, " and yet, I m not sure perhaps 
 I saw them somewhere no, I m sure 
 they were on it." Her anxiety to please 
 made her almost painfully conscientious. 
 
 " She says he s a great comfort to her. 
 He s so positive in his faith," commented 
 Mrs. Mint, with satisfaction. 
 in
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 " I suppose you most always buy em 
 ready made," asserted Mrs. Thrum. 
 
 " Yes," said Betty, conscious that this 
 proceeding would have its objection, " it is 
 more convenient, you know, and you can 
 tell " 
 
 " All the faith I could ever see that 
 old Miss Stiff had," interrupted Elvira, as 
 her rocking-chair flew back once and then 
 forward again, where it remained poised, 
 " was that all the people that did n t agree 
 with her d get come up with." 
 
 " Something like David," remarked 
 Camilla. 
 
 " I don t know as Mr. Neal d get along 
 any too well with David," said Elvira, 
 with a certain amount of irrelevance. " I 
 got my last bonnet ready made, and it 
 looked like a peck measure when I got it 
 home." 
 
 " They look very differently when one 
 gets them home," answered Betty. 
 
 She stood smiling down on her two 
 diminutive companions as she spoke, tap-
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 ping her belated letter against her small 
 white teeth, her dainty yellow gown turned 
 away at the throat, where the cream-col 
 ored embroidery was caught together with 
 a gold pin, the only ornament she wore. 
 Then she raised her eyes and glanced up 
 the road. 
 
 "Suppose I should walk over to Centre 
 myself," she suggested. The gate of the 
 "other house," the one just beyond the 
 bend of the road, creaked as it was pulled 
 open. They could always hear that gate 
 creak. Camilla turned and looked up the 
 road. 
 
 " Here comes Mr. Neal now," she said, 
 placidly. Betty did not change her posi 
 tion as she watched the young man come 
 briskly toward them, but her smile grew 
 more amused. He was quite conscious of 
 the scrutiny he was undergoing, and as he 
 raised his hat, just opposite the door, his 
 face was flushed, and he spoke with an 
 embarrassed little laugh. 
 
 " Good-morning, ladies," he said. " Can 
 8 11
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 I be of any service ? I am going to the 
 Centre." 
 
 He was a tall man, too slight for his 
 height ; his clothes were evidently carefully 
 put on, and his expression was somewhat 
 provokingly amiable, as Betty had hinted 
 to Miss Waring. His manner and ap 
 pearance indicated that somewhat uneasy 
 consciousness of externals which, by some 
 apparent injustice, seems to be a part of 
 those who, it is conceded, are specially oc 
 cupied with the hidden and the vital. He 
 looked at Betty as he spoke, as most men 
 would have done in his place, and, meeting 
 her gay little nod of greeting, immediately 
 turned his eyes away and looked question- 
 ingly at Elvira and Camilla. He even 
 contrived to convey a slight shade of dis 
 approval in the way in which he did this. 
 Possibly her smile and nod were too gay ; 
 possibly, in spite of their gayety, they were 
 too indifferent, too suggestive of this per 
 son s proneness to take life easily, and to 
 consider morning meetings with young 
 114
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 clergymen as destitute of any profound 
 importance. 
 
 " Did you sit up with Mr. Thomas last 
 night ? " asked Elvira. 
 
 " Yes, I did," he replied, with solemnity. 
 
 " Did he die in the night ? " she asked 
 quickly, before Camilla could speak. 
 
 " Oh, no ; he s better this morning." 
 
 " Is ? " Perhaps there was a shade of 
 disappointment in this observation, but not 
 more than was entirely natural. 
 
 " The Thomases always had rheumatic 
 fever as a family," said Camilla. " Reu 
 ben Thomas s father had it twice. I said 
 to him once it was when we lived, my 
 husband and I, in Whitney; that was before 
 my husband went into business with his 
 brother and we had the little house that 
 set back from the street, and Pelatiah, 
 that s Reuben Thomas s father, used to 
 drive by every day with " Elvira s rock 
 ing-chair had hung fire long enough. 
 " Here s Miss Everard," she said, " talk 
 ing about walking over to Centre herself."
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 Camilla looked at her sister with mild 
 reproof, but met no glance of apology. 
 Elvira was looking at Mr. Neal and re 
 volving another question. Neal had not 
 raised his eyes to Betty s a second time, 
 but, as he listened respectfully to the sis 
 ters, he was conscious to his finger-tips 
 that she was watching him from the van 
 tage of the threshold, with that same 
 tantalizing little smile. Elvira s remark 
 necessitated his addressing her. 
 
 " Can I will you " he began, look 
 ing up and stammering a little in his 
 embarrassment. She waited a moment, 
 but he did not finish his sentence. The 
 day was warm and damp, and his hair, a 
 trifle longer than fashion demands, had 
 curled into little rings about his forehead, 
 giving him a very boyish look. 
 
 " How nice to have your hair curl like 
 that ! " she said. " Just nothing but the 
 weather ! " 
 
 The soul of the Reverend Alfred Neal 
 quivered with resentful confusion, but he 
 116
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 found no words with which to assert his 
 dignity, and grew scarlet under the mock 
 ing brightness of Betty s sweet smile. 
 
 "Well, it is," said Mrs. Thrum. 
 Neither she nor Mrs. Mint felt the 
 indignity. 
 
 " Do you do yours with an iron ? " she 
 went on, swiftly. 
 
 " I ve given it up entirely," said Miss 
 Everard, laughing. Then, meeting a look 
 of scepticism from Elvira, she added, " Oh, 
 you mean in the back of my neck yes, 
 with an iron." 
 
 " I mean in the back of your neck," 
 said Elvira. 
 
 During the conversation the Reverend 
 Alfred Neal grew warmer and warmer. 
 It seemed to him to more than verge on 
 indelicacy. It was not the sort of thing 
 that men of his cloth should listen to. 
 And yet, when Mrs. Thrum finished her 
 last sentence, to save his life he could not 
 prevent his eyes from a hasty glance at the 
 back of Miss Everard s head, where a 
 117
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 small blond, fluffy curl made itself seen 
 below the rim of her hat. Unfortunately 
 he also met her eyes, and there was that in 
 their malicious depths that worsted him yet 
 further. Then their expression changed 
 utterly. She stepped down, and held out 
 her letter. 
 
 " Will you mail it for me ? " she said, 
 gravely. " I shall be very much obliged." 
 And lifting her delicate skirt with one hand 
 and with a nod of farewell, she passed 
 down from the piazza to the gate, so near 
 that her dress touched him, and, crossing 
 the road, turned into the cool pine woods 
 just below. 
 
 Alfred Neal went on his way to the 
 village in a state of mind not altogether 
 well regulated. He was a little vexed, 
 a trifle shocked, and a good deal em 
 barrassed. A course of reflection, how 
 ever, upon his own position and the 
 transitory influence of a girl like Miss 
 Everard restored his ordinary confident 
 composure before he entered the main 
 118
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 street of the Centre, where domestic com 
 merce was represented by two stores, on 
 the front piazza of each of which sat the 
 proprietor in his shirt-sleeves, with his chair 
 tipped back against the white-painted wall. 
 
 Betty made her way over the slippery 
 pine-needles, until, with a steadiness of 
 purpose denoting a specific goal, she reached 
 a tall pine-tree whose shaft went straight 
 up, not bothering itself with branches, for 
 thirty feet. Here she threw herself down 
 and, removing her hat, leaned back in the 
 embracing roots. The resinous bark gave 
 forth its spicy smell. Hot as it was, there 
 was a faint breeze which just kept up con 
 versation in the tops of the pine-trees. 
 Small and active insects went pottering 
 about the moss and needles and soft earth. 
 It was delicious. Betty drew a sigh of 
 satisfaction, and pitied the people in towns. 
 A faint smile touched her lips as she re 
 called Neal s expression in his first flush of 
 annoyance at her impertinence. 
 
 " It did curl prettily," she said to her- 
 119
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 self, lazily stretching her arm over her head. 
 " It made him almost debonair. Fancy 
 the Reverend Alfred Neal debonair ! He 
 does n t know what it means. Ho ! hum ! " 
 she yawned. " Yes, I suppose life is real, 
 life is earnest. But I have to convince 
 myself of it ; some people are born believ 
 ing it. They re just like that ant. They 
 take life seriously and hurl themselves 
 against obstacles without in the least know 
 ing why," and Neal passed entirely out of 
 Miss Everard s consciousness in a mist 
 of philosophic speculation which was one 
 of the privileges of Kenyon s. She never 
 had time for it at home. 
 
 It was high noon when Neal came back 
 along the dusty highroad. As he drew 
 near the two-house hamlet known as Ken 
 yon s, he tore open a letter and began to 
 read it. It was from a theological class 
 mate who was settled in the small town 
 where they had both been at college. He 
 wrote with the freedom of a man sure of 
 his audience, and among other things re-
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 ferred to a certain laxity of doctrine per 
 ceptible even in his own congregation as a 
 part of the undoubted laxity of the age. 
 " We have had enough of the doctrine of 
 brotherly love," wrote this confident young 
 preacher. " It is time to dwell on the 
 other side. Brotherly love in these times 
 of breadth and toleration will take care of 
 itself. Heaven forbid that I should un 
 derrate its importance, but let you and 
 me, Brother Neal, see to it that brotherly 
 warning and argument also continue." 
 
 Neal nodded his head as he read in 
 warm acquiescence. It was a pity that so 
 many preachers gifted of God were so 
 prone to be over-lenient toward the prompt 
 ings of a personal devil. And he breathed 
 a sigh, genuine and devoted, over the evils 
 which it might lead to. There was not 
 the slightest taint of hypocrisy in the soul 
 of Alfred Neal ; he was single-minded and 
 earnest. At the close of the letter his 
 friend gave him an item or two of news. 
 " Emily Grant asked about you the other 
 
 121
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 day, and was interested to hear of your, 
 summer s work. She spends part of the 
 summer in New Hampshire, whither she 
 goes to-morrow." 
 
 Alfred Neal folded the letter, put it in 
 his pocket, and, crossing the road that he 
 might be more in the shade of the over 
 reaching branches, betook himself again to 
 meditation. Emily Grant ! She had been 
 his companion in many of the harmless 
 gayeties of the little town. On picnics he 
 had often found himself at her side, and 
 after the weekly sociable his forethought 
 had usually provided her with an escort 
 home. She was a pretty girl, with a sweet, 
 yielding expression, and an inflexibility of 
 opinion that would have done credit to an 
 inquisitor. More than one whisper had 
 reached young Neal s not ungratified ears 
 regarding her innate suitability for the part 
 of clergyman s wife. It is to be supposed 
 that Emily s own ears had not been entirely 
 unassailed by such suggestions, but she had 
 never shown them anything but the most 
 122
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 becoming indifference. When Neal left 
 for this his first parochial experience in the 
 wilds of Maine, they had parted with un 
 emotional propriety and an unexpressed 
 expectation of meeting again, which, possi 
 bly, upon the part of one or the other, might 
 be said to approximate to a determination. 
 To-day, as he walked quickly along, his 
 hat in his hand and the breeze ruffling 
 still further those unclerical rings of hair, 
 the image of Emily Grant, though unex 
 ceptionable in detail, had a certain color- 
 lessness. An annoyed squirrel rustled 
 suddenly at his right. He turned to watch, 
 if might be, its rapid course along the 
 picturesque pathway of a broken, moss- 
 grown, insufficient rail fence. Caught by 
 a glint of color, his eye wandered farther 
 into the woods. At the base of the pine- 
 tree, just visible from the lonely road, sat 
 Miss Everard. The pale yellow of her 
 dress blended with the wood browns and 
 dusky greens about her, while the hot sun 
 light penetrating here and there made flecks 
 123
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 of a still paler gold. She suggested a true 
 butterfly of fashion, alighted for a moment 
 in the flowerless recesses of the forest. 
 She -was reading, and his step did not 
 startle her into lifting her head. Alfred 
 paused a moment. The insufficient fence 
 had come to a sudden pause here, forcing 
 the squirrel into a precipitate leap and 
 leaving the way invitingly open into the 
 solitude peopled by this harmonious young 
 person. The road was hot and dusty, the 
 wood cool and fragrant, and Kenyon s din 
 ner-hour was fifteen minutes off. Miss Ev- 
 erard seemed rendered peculiarly accessible 
 by the surrender of the fence, and Neal 
 turned and made his way up the slippery 
 brown pathway. She raised her eyes and 
 smiled in recognition. Now that he had 
 come, he realized that he had no statement 
 to make, and his conscientiousness led him 
 to feel that the occasion demanded one. 
 Evidently she was deficient in conscien 
 tiousness, for she did not share his un 
 easiness. 
 
 124
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 "That is a nice root," she observed, 
 pointing it out in a friendly way. " If you 
 sit down a little lower you will find it 
 makes a back, and there is a place for your 
 arm too." 
 
 Neal had not expected to sit down by her 
 side. He had had a vague idea of standing 
 and saying a few words to her. It seemed 
 almost too sylvan to sit on the ground, in 
 the lazy attitude her suggestion indicated, 
 and take part in a tete-a-tete. But his 
 six-mile walk made the resting-place not 
 uninviting, and he remembered that he had 
 done the same thing at picnics without in 
 curring serious liabilities. Moreover, her 
 manner and words were of a disarming 
 simplicity. 
 
 " Did you bring me a letter ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " No, there were none for you." 
 
 " Such is the faithlessness of friends." 
 
 " Do you not expect too much from 
 your friends ? " he ventured. 
 
 " Undoubtedly I do. Everybody does. 
 125
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 And then we all get disappointed, and 
 begin over again." 
 
 " Perhaps you should have said your 
 nominal friends," he suggested, with good- 
 humored tolerance. 
 
 Miss Everard was unaccustomed to be 
 told what she should have said. 
 
 " Well, yes. What other kind are 
 worth having ? I don t care a pin for peo 
 ple who are your friends and are ashamed 
 to be called so," she said, wilfully. 
 
 " That is not quite what I meant," he 
 began, carefully. 
 
 " Oh, meant ! " exclaimed Betty, throw 
 ing her head back against the trunk of the 
 tree and looking at him under her eye 
 lashes. " What difference does it make 
 what any of us mean ? " 
 
 Such utter irrelevance was a novelty 
 to Neal. His perplexity with the manner 
 gave him no time to ponder the audacity 
 of the matter. He experienced a shade 
 of satisfaction that he had not stood up, 
 after all ; he recognized dimly that the 
 126
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 pulpit attitude would have put him still 
 more at a disadvantage. 
 
 "I I " he began. 
 
 " Now, don t say," she interrupted, 
 " that though it may not make any differ 
 ence what 7 mean, you are glad to say it 
 makes a great deal of difference what 
 you mean ! " 
 
 The very fact that any expression of 
 this kind had been so far from his lips per 
 plexed him the more. He envied the man 
 who might have the presence of mind to 
 answer her so. 
 
 " Because it won t do any good. I 
 suppose," she went on, curiously, "that is 
 what you are always thinking of doing 
 people good." 
 
 " I wish I was," he replied, honestly. 
 
 " Now I like that in you," said Betty, 
 her eyes softening, as she leaned forward 
 again, her hands lying clasped around her 
 knee. " It is very interesting." 
 
 " It ought to be," he answered, " but it 
 is n t always." He paused, frightened, 
 127
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 feeling that he had made a dangerous be 
 trayal. She did not seem at all shocked. 
 
 " No, I suppose not," she answered. 
 " But then, you know, nothing is 
 always." 
 
 This was not the form of consolation 
 that he felt the occasion demanded, but 
 whether it was the rest and the coolness, 
 or her words or her presence itself, his 
 aroused conscientiousness allowed itself to 
 be soothed, and he let his statement go 
 undefended. 
 
 " I had a letter this morning," he said, 
 still under the influence of this sudden ex- 
 pansiveness, " from a friend who is more 
 than a nominal one, one whose friend 
 ship is a privilege indeed." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Miss Everard. But be 
 fore he had time to think this exclamation 
 irrelevant too, " And was it a nice letter ? " 
 she questioned, with a smile. 
 
 "Yes," he assented, with momentary 
 hesitation at the insufficiency of the ad 
 jective, " really, a precious letter." 
 128
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 " Do you get one every day ? " inquired 
 Betty, with friendly impertinence. 
 
 " Every day ? Oh, no. He has a 
 large parish and " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Betty again. " He s a 
 man. Yes, go on." But her rapidly 
 drawn conclusions and their modifications 
 made it impossible for him for the moment 
 to go on. It flashed across him what she 
 had thought, and he paused and laughed 
 in some embarrassment. He thought of 
 Emily Grant, and he was alarmed to see 
 how near he had unwittingly drawn to the 
 reefs of sentiment. 
 
 " That s all right," said Betty, com 
 posedly, " he has a large parish and " 
 
 " And he finds his time fully occupied," 
 concluded Neal, somewhat ineffectively. 
 Now that she had steered him safely off 
 again he almost regretted that he had 
 not dallied with the danger a little. He 
 wished he might have answered her that he 
 was heart-whole Emily Grant being for 
 the moment in abeyance and possibly 
 9 129
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 have received some like acknowledgment 
 from her. 
 
 " You must have a great deal in com 
 mon," she said. " That makes it so easy 
 to write." 
 
 " Yes," he answered. He saw her in 
 tention to be sympathetic and interested, 
 but did not find it so easy to take advan 
 tage of as at first. Emily Grant seemed 
 to be in some inexplicable fashion an in 
 trusive influence. She waited a moment, 
 and then she looked up into the tall tree- 
 tops. 
 
 " Is n t it nice," she said, " the trees 
 and the dry ground and the warm sun ? 
 Are n t you glad you are not a trilobite or 
 a a some kind of a pod, you know, 
 that lived before the earth was done ? " 
 and she brought her lazy glance down to 
 rest upon his. 
 
 " Yes," he said, smiling, " I think I am." 
 
 " They must have had such a stupid 
 time," she commented, " poking round." 
 
 He felt that her geological knowledge 
 130
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 might be doubtful, but her imagination 
 found a response in his own perceptions. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " it is a distinct pleas 
 ure to live to-day," and he, too, looked 
 about him appreciatively. 
 
 " And to live one must eat," said Betty, 
 gayly, looking at a toy watch. " The 
 dinner-hour of Kenyon s will be past 
 when you swing that atrociously rusty 
 gate. As for me, I shall be just in time. 
 And we have such beautiful things to eat 
 at our house, I would n t miss one of 
 them ! " she asserted, greedily. He fol 
 lowed her down the rough path and crossed 
 with her the dusty road. When he left 
 her at the gate he looked back at the 
 morning interview as a time when he had 
 not known her very well. As he entered 
 Deacon Evans s, and knew from the clat 
 ter of knives and forks that they were at 
 dinner, he wondered if his detention had 
 been altogether a profitable one. She was 
 an attractive woman, to be sure, but Emily 
 Grant would never have thought of bring-
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 ing a member of the Christian ministry 
 into even momentary comparison with 
 u some kind of a pod." 
 
 On a day of the next week Miss 
 Everard came into the sitting-room and 
 found both rocking-chairs empty. It was 
 a disappointment. It rained hard, and she 
 had come down from her room after what 
 was to her sedulous application to the 
 " Decline and Fall," though possibly to 
 a student somewhat desultory, and she 
 felt the need of relaxation. She wandered 
 to the window and watched the chattering 
 little puddles in the middle of the road, 
 and the tops of the trees waving irreso 
 lutely against the sky. She bethought 
 herself that rainy afternoons were not alto 
 gether dreary in the city. One could stay 
 at home now and then, and someone 
 might happen in for a cup of tea. The 
 kitchen door opened and Camilla came in, 
 and took her rocking-chair. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Mint," said Betty, " I want 
 to be entertained." 
 
 132
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 " When I lived in Whitney," Camilla 
 began, Betty leaned her head against 
 the wall, swinging one slippered foot, the 
 other lying out of sight, "I used to en 
 tertain a good deal. I remember once 
 they were coming to our house to the 
 sewing society. It was n t the church 
 society. I 11 tell you just how it was. 
 They used to do more talking than sew 
 ing at the church society. My husband 
 used to say to me it was when he was 
 alive, that we lived in Whitney, and he 
 used to go in the evening, along with the 
 other gentlemen ; they always liked to have 
 him come too I remember Mrs. Burns 
 saying to me once that it was always a 
 different sort of sewing society when Anise 
 Mint came. My husband s name was 
 Anise, and he had a brother Cummin. 
 Old Father and Mother Mint both of 
 them had a liking for Bible names, and 
 they said it always seemed providential 
 their names being Mint and having just 
 those two sons. They always spoke of 
 133
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 them as c my two sons Anise Mint and 
 Cummin the sound of it sort of pleased 
 them. My husband was a very lively 
 man." 
 
 The poignancy of Mrs. Mint s grief at 
 the loss of this attractive consort had suffi- 
 ciently. passed away for her to dwell upon 
 his qualities with calm appreciation. Her 
 rocking-chair was moving back and forth 
 in its usual contemplative manner, with 
 her two little hands resting on its arms. 
 Betty nodded from time to time, and said, 
 "Oh," "Yes," and "Indeed," when 
 occasion demanded it, which was not often. 
 
 " He used to say about the church sew 
 ing society that he made excuses to come 
 at all sorts of times, but he had never 
 struck it when they were n t just putting 
 away the sewing. So there were some of 
 us used to meet between times, those of 
 us that were interested, and that was the 
 one that was meeting at our house at 
 the time I speak of. Mrs. Burns was 
 the first to come " 
 134
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 Just here Elvira came into the room, 
 and, taking possession of her own rocking- 
 chair, observed : " Those hollyhock seeds 
 are n t no manner of use." 
 
 " And she said when she came that she 
 did n t see why she had n t run across 
 young Mrs. Babbitt on her way over. 
 She lived near her in the house that stood 
 at the end of the green, and it was burned 
 afterward, and they could n t get the insur 
 ance. It had run out just the week before." 
 
 " I got em of Amelia Thomas," said 
 Mrs. Thrum. " She told me they blos 
 somed most any time. I planted them 
 along in the spring, and they have n t blos 
 somed yet, and I guess they don t mean 
 to. Is that a photograph of your sister 
 that stands alongside of your mirror? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Betty, " my older 
 sister." 
 
 " Married ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, and lives in " 
 
 " I was trying to tell her about the time 
 that " began Mrs. Mint. 
 135
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 " Where did you say she lived ? " asked 
 Mrs. Thrum. 
 
 " In Cleveland." 
 
 " Does ? " 
 
 " That Mrs. Babbitt committed suicide," 
 concluded Mrs. Mint. 
 
 " Suicide ! " exclaimed Betty. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Mint, placidly, 
 u that was the reason she did n t come. 
 She d taken laudanum. They had two 
 doctors ; old Dr. Norton, that lived in 
 the next town, he happened to be driving 
 through, and Dr. Bent called him in he 
 was a young man and inexperienced. My 
 husband said " 
 
 " There is Mr. Neal," said Mrs. 
 Thrum ; " I should n t wonder if he was 
 coming over here. Land ! he has n t any 
 umbrella. I guess something s happened. 
 He looks sort of hurried." 
 
 Betty leaned forward and looked out of 
 
 the window. Mr. Neal did seem hurried. 
 
 He was running as fast as he could through 
 
 the driving rain, and along the muddy road. 
 
 136
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 " You don t suppose anybody s com 
 mitted suicide, do you ? " asked Betty, with 
 some apprehension. 
 
 " I guess anybody over there has n t," 
 said Mrs. Thrum, decidedly. " Caleb Evans 
 feels about dying as the wicked man did 
 about the resurrection it 11 come soon 
 enough, anyhow." 
 
 She stepped to the door, leaving her 
 rocking-chair to fly back and forth wildly, 
 while Mrs. Mint tipped hers a little for 
 ward and waited. Betty rose too, and 
 went to the door, looking over Mrs. 
 Thrum s shoulder. It really seemed as 
 if there was to be an event. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Thrum," panted Neal, as he 
 sprang up the low steps, " there has been 
 an accident. Nat has had his arm badly 
 cut in the cutting-machine. His father is 
 away and there is n t anybody good for 
 anything over there. Can one of you 
 come over while I run for the doctor ? " 
 
 "Cut? "said Elvira. "Nat? Why, I ll 
 come right over." 
 
 137
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 11 You don t go a step to-day, Elvira ! " 
 said Mrs. Mint from the balanced rocking- 
 chair. " I don t propose to nurse you 
 through rheumatic fever. I 11 go myself," 
 and she rose and came forward. 
 
 " Well, I guess you 11 take some time 
 to get ready," retorted Elvira, " so as you 
 won t come down with pneumonia." 
 
 " I ought to have thought of that," said 
 Neal, and paused, dismayed, as he looked 
 out at the driving storm. He knew per 
 fectly well that both these old ladies were 
 really invalids. But the case was so urgent 
 even now it seemed to him the delay 
 had been tremendous. As Mrs. Thrum 
 spoke, Betty, with swift movement, had 
 slipped by her, snatched a heavy shawl 
 from the chair in the little entry and now 
 stood by his side. 
 
 " I 11 go," she said, impatiently. 
 "Come." 
 
 He turned and looked at her, the shawl 
 drawn over her dainty head, her face pale 
 with fright. 
 
 138
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 " You ? " he said, doubtfully. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " Come, I say ! " 
 and darted down from the sheltering porch 
 into the heavy rain. 
 
 " But " he began, as he followed her. 
 
 " Land ! " observed Elvira, " that 11 be 
 the end of that dress. Slippers, too. I 
 wonder which arm it is he s cut." 
 
 Camilla had already gone to her room 
 to prepare to face the storm. 
 
 " Get some bandages ready, quick, 
 Elvira," she called out. 
 
 " I m getting them," replied Elvira. 
 " Did you think I thought it would do 
 just as well to get them to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Tell me what to do," Betty said. He 
 did so in a few words. He had improvised 
 a tourniquet and had stanched the bleeding 
 for the present, but feared that it might 
 break out afresh, and then it would be all 
 to do over again. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I understand," and 
 they entered the Evans s house. The boy s 
 mother was in a state of partial collapse
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 from fright, but still held the arm as Mr. 
 Neal had bidden her, looking alarmingly 
 white. The younger sister was shrieking, 
 " Oh, Nat 11 die, won t he ? " in the stimu 
 lating and encouraging manner peculiar to 
 ungoverned feminine anxiety. The boy 
 himself, calm enough, lay on the floor, the 
 stained bandages giving Betty one awful 
 moment of sickening nervousness. But 
 Alfred Neal, while he paused to see if this 
 was going to do, did not perceive this ; he 
 only saw her drop down on the floor, slip 
 her hands about the wounded arm, telling 
 the half-fainting woman to go away until 
 she felt better, and, with a little smile of 
 encouragement to the boy himself, introduce 
 suddenly elements of order and relief. Then 
 he dashed out a second time into the rain 
 after the doctor. 
 
 Insensibly, during the last week, his 
 admiration for another sort of Betty had 
 been growing, but now he carried with him 
 a new impulse toward this pale, smiling 
 young woman, with firm, gentle fingers, 
 140
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 who had tossed back her heavy shawl, and, 
 with raindrops still hanging on her hair 
 and little, soaked slippers, had calmly taken 
 the position of ministering angel. Possibly 
 a ministering angel might have chosen 
 other language to express Miss Everard s 
 next idea. 
 
 "You little idiot," she observed to the 
 irresponsible Eliza. " He won t die unless 
 he does it to get rid of hearing you make 
 that outrageous noise." Eliza held her 
 tongue, and gazed like one distraught at 
 the young lady with the beautiful clothes, 
 who had a command of ready invective 
 somewhat at variance with her appearance. 
 Betty took immediate advantage of her 
 stupefaction. 
 
 " Now go and get your mother a glass 
 of water," she said, " and take her this," 
 and she placed a toy vinaigrette in the 
 hands of the obedient Eliza. Then she 
 began to talk to Nat, whose boyish endur 
 ance found food and comfort in her atten 
 tions. She had begun bravely, but it was 
 141
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 with a sigh of relief that she heard Mrs. 
 Mint s voice in the entry. 
 
 " Don t take on," she was saying. " Men 
 are always doing things to themselves, even 
 in their cradles." The vision of a large 
 
 O 
 
 man in a small cradle inclined Betty s 
 nerves to hysterical laughter, but she did 
 not yield to it. " It s fortunate the Lord 
 made em tough," concluded Mrs. Mint. 
 With this placidity between her and the 
 contingency of Neal s unprofessional band 
 aging proving insufficient, it did not seem 
 very long to Betty before the doctor 
 entered, with Neal, who had met him at 
 the end of a mile covered at racing speed. 
 Then she was free to go out of the room 
 and take her damp skirts and slippers home 
 again. Neal had an umbrella for her this 
 time, and in that short, sloppy walk home 
 they were nearer in sympathy than they 
 had ever been before. The half-mocking 
 and critical, half-indifferent attitude which 
 Miss Everard had hitherto maintained to 
 wards the young clergyman had given way 
 142
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 to a natural feminine confidence in this 
 man, who had known what to do in case 
 of accident and had then run a mile, in a 
 pouring rain, for a doctor. The old ine 
 radicable instinct of the weaker toward the 
 stronger had gotten the better of her cul 
 tured perceptions. With Neal an equally 
 natural force exerted itself. She had been 
 feminine and calm and apprehensively 
 brave, instead of fascinating, eluding, and 
 dangerously broad-minded. In fact, she 
 had adopted a demeanor which would have 
 done credit to Emily Grant herself. He 
 did not formulate this last idea, but it was 
 in the background, casting its protecting 
 shadow over the attachment he felt for 
 Miss Everard. 
 
 The next two weeks saw the two often 
 together. Kenyon s was too remote from 
 contemporary observation for gossip. 
 
 As for Mrs. Mint and Mrs. Thrum, life 
 was to them a spectacle of much interest, 
 few surprises, and no fining and refining of 
 motives or mental processes whatsoever.
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 It was natural that the time Neal had to 
 spare from pastoral work should be spent 
 with Miss Everard. Notwithstanding their 
 many differences, and the fact that Betty 
 was always mentally comparing him with 
 greater men of his own profession, to his 
 manifest disadvantage, they represented the 
 same intellectual plane. In a community 
 where intellectual interests were wide 
 spread, these differences would have kept 
 them apart ; in this isolated spot they were 
 drawn together. 
 
 One afternoon she again sat before the 
 open window, writing. The deeper, thicker 
 green outside, and the burning, impalpable 
 haze that penetrated without obscuring the 
 landscape, showed that it was no longer 
 early summer. 
 
 DEAR FRANCES [the letter ran] , It has always 
 been my wish to gratify your entirely legitimate 
 appetite for personal details, when in my power. 
 I shall let this occasion be no exception ; con 
 sequently, when you ask "How about the 
 clerical Mr. Neal ? Is not the point of view 
 144
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 changing ? " I hasten to reply with a frankness 
 which should disarm unworthy suspicion. Yes, 
 certainly, the point of view has changed. 
 
 Here Miss Everard paused, and insen 
 sibly drifted into a purposeless revery ; then, 
 biting her pen-handle with some determi 
 nation, she brought herself up sharply to 
 self-analysis. 
 
 Much more than this I am not prepared to 
 say. He has grown more interesting, certainly 
 I am not sure that he has not grown indis 
 pensable I know I can trust you to understand 
 that I refer only to my existence here. He 
 annoys me frequently. This may be in your 
 mind an important point he annoys me more 
 than is altogether compatible widi personal indif 
 ference. I like him best when he is serious and 
 earnest. Unhappily, he has opposite moods 
 moods of gayety when he seeks to make evident 
 that, while he is a clergyman, he is not held in 
 by iron-bound tradition, and then he makes jokes 
 upon serious subjects. These are jokes which to 
 a polished unbeliever would seem to lack humor, 
 and are to me irreverent. He means to imply 
 that his heart is so thoroughly in the right place 
 10 145
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 that he can afford to play with the fringes upon 
 the robe of righteousness. I have always thought 
 that humor should be the more carefully handled 
 rather than the less, when applied to what we 
 love and honor. After he has said something 
 of this kind he perceives, somehow, that he has 
 not struck quite the note of worldly culture he 
 thinks appropriate for my ears, and relapses into 
 a mood of momentary depression which he shakes 
 off with another joke, possibly in still worse taste, 
 to prove to himself and to me that there was no 
 harm in the first one. Yes, this more than 
 annoys it irritates me. I think that is the 
 worst I can say of him. As opposed to this, he 
 has an earnestness and a sincerity of purpose 
 which make me like him. Now and then, 
 Frances, you know, one tires of these broad 
 people to whom all things are equally important. 
 I could write a history of Whitney I 
 think I shall, sometime. But it must be of its 
 historic period when Mrs. Mint lived there. 
 Such exciting things happened there then the 
 air was thick with mystery and the salons of the 
 women of Whitney " wielded far, peace and 
 war." Nothing happens there now. I went 
 there with Mrs. Mint the other day. I was 
 146
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 dreadfully disappointed. The streets are grassy 
 lanes. To quote again from the same poem : 
 " Such a carpet as o erspreads every vestige of 
 the city, guessed alone where a multitude of 
 men breathed joy and woe, long ago." Perhaps 
 the multitude of men was a fiction of my imagi 
 nation, under the sway of Mrs. Mint s reminis 
 cences. But not the "joy and woe" they 
 are not prerogatives of a multitude. 
 
 It s very trying, do you know, Frances, 
 every now and then, when you are really inter 
 ested in a subject, to come up against a bowlder 
 of prepossession. Do you know what I mean ? 
 Suppose one is talking of some point of doctrine 
 or criticism, or anything you like, and you find 
 what you say accepted without argument or pro 
 test, simply because your whole training and 
 belief are so wrong that there is no use saying 
 anything. And this when you know perfectly 
 well that your own standpoint is really that 
 learned from the wise and broad minds of the 
 century. Do you know what that is ? It is 
 
 exasperating. Always yours, 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 A week later Betty sat on the little porch. 
 It was moonlight, and the soft radiance
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 which here betrays and here conceals, with 
 supernatural perception of the artistic needs 
 of earth and humanity, had cast its mantle 
 over even the rocking-chairs which stood 
 empty on either side, so that they might 
 have been slight, delicate frames waiting 
 for fair and unearthly shapes, instead of 
 sturdy and reliable supports for Mrs. 
 Thrum and Mrs. Mint, just gone inside 
 out of the damp. Something of this sort 
 came into Miss Everard s fanciful head, 
 resting against the door-post, as she sat on 
 the low step of the threshold and watched 
 the dainty lace-like pattern made upon the 
 wooden boards, by the moonlight shining 
 through the prosaic cane seats of the 
 chairs. 
 
 " Why not a dryad ? " she said, dreamily. 
 " A nineteenth-century dryad of a wooden 
 rocking-chair ? I am sure if I were one 
 I d rather inhabit a rocking-chair than the 
 trunk of a tree." Neal looked up at her 
 from the lower step. The moonlight fell 
 upon her hair, softening the curves of her 
 148
 
 " WHY NOT A DRYAD ? "
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 face and figure with its own half-spiritual, 
 half-sensuous suggestiveness. Her eyes 
 deepened and darkened as she looked from 
 the porch out into the fragrant, clinging 
 duskiness of the sjummer night. It was 
 one or two minutes before he became con 
 scious that she had spoken, and that, instead 
 of answering, he had been watching her 
 with an intensity that partook a little too 
 much of the thoughtlessness of irresponsible 
 manhood. With an effort he turned away 
 and gazed into the shadows of the opposite 
 wood, whence came the low, persistent 
 sounds of manifold insect vivacity. 
 
 " Dryads," he repeated, slowly. He 
 was not quite sure what he was going to 
 say, but the sudden recollection of Emily 
 Grant, as she had appeared once crowned 
 with leaves at a strawberry festival, where 
 he had addressed her as " Fair dryad," 
 helped him to pull himself together. 
 
 " Those old myths," he said, " will 
 always bind the fancy more or less. 
 They have a certain hold on the truths 
 149
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 of nature that appeals to the universal 
 human heart." 
 
 While he could be didactic, he was safe 
 from any misleading influence of the hour. 
 
 " Why myths ? " demanded Betty, per 
 versely. " Why may they not have ex 
 isted ? long ago, you know ; I don t 
 say," she admitted, with fine tolerance, 
 " that they exist now. But I am quite as 
 likely to have descended from a dryad as 
 from an oyster." 
 
 Although Neal did not look at her 
 again he knew her portrait, and he felt 
 that really she had reason on her side. 
 
 11 An oyster," he repeated, vaguely. 
 
 " Yes, why not ? " 
 
 " I have no sympathy with the theory 
 of evolution myself," he asserted, shifting 
 a little the ground of argument. There 
 was a movement on the wooden boards of 
 the small slippered foot at his side. 
 
 " But that has n t anything to do with 
 it," said Miss Everard. 
 
 " But it has," he responded, unguard- 
 150
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 edly allowing himself to be drawn into 
 opposing her absurdity, and he turned and 
 looked up into her face. Possibly Miss 
 Everard had anticipated this, for she smiled 
 down at him, and, with a sudden loss of 
 active interest, said : u Has it ? " as if she 
 had no particular objection. Again Neal 
 saw the fair outline, and the white wrists, 
 and the shadowy eyes, and again he betook 
 himself to the firm ground of controversy. 
 
 " How certain men in the Church itself 
 can assume the theories of evolution to be 
 facts is a mysterious thing," he declared. 
 " Its conclusions are adverse to all that 
 we have of revelation." 
 
 " Oh," she demurred, " does n t that 
 depend on the way of looking at it ? " 
 
 " No," he said, " that would be the 
 end of peace and safety. We can look at 
 a thing in such a way as to make it appear 
 its direct contrary." As he spoke, he 
 knew that it was not as warmly as usual. 
 He believed what he said, but for the first 
 time in his life a doubt crept into his heart
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 concerning the absolute verity of all the 
 conclusions of his life. Was it possible 
 that some of them might be mistaken 
 ones ? Even as he pushed away the 
 doubt, it was almost with the unallowed 
 exclamation, What matters ? He was 
 frightened at the thought. Was it possi 
 ble that there was any force in the world 
 strong enough to make his theological 
 convictions a secondary matter ? Yet 
 even the fright did not last, the apprehen 
 sion that he might be losing his hold on 
 the very essence of his life-work grew 
 faint and far away. Was everything slip 
 ping away into a world of unrealities ex 
 cept the moonlight, and the sweet July 
 air, and a beautiful woman on the steps 
 above him all realities, whose presence 
 he felt as he had often in moods of special 
 grace felt other higher things ? 
 
 " But should n t we admit all of science 
 that we can ? " said Betty. " Is not that 
 the way not to fear it ? " 
 
 " Ah, that is the dangerous doctrine," 
 152
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 he answered. " It is this paltering with 
 science, this readiness to give up the divi 
 nations of truth for the mathematics of 
 science that is working us loss and injury." 
 
 How well he knew the words, though 
 he said them perfunctorily enough. They 
 came to his lips readily. They were the 
 result of honest thought. How often he 
 had said them and heard them, together 
 with his friend of seminary days, before he 
 had come to the Centre, before he had 
 loved this woman, who meant grace and 
 beauty and mental inspiration and deli 
 cious companionship and life itself be 
 fore he had loved her ! He had not 
 known where he was going ; the knowl 
 edge overwhelmed him in a flood of con 
 viction. Before its illuminating power he 
 stood abashed but unregretful. He cov 
 ered his eyes for a moment s thought. It 
 seemed to him as if a long time passed, 
 but it was only a moment, and Betty was 
 saying, with a little sigh : 
 
 " Well, perhaps. We don t any of us 
 53
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 know too much. Let us not lose the 
 divinations of truth, whatever else may 
 go." She thought him narrow, and the 
 hopelessness of finding a common ground, 
 at which she had hinted to Frances, op 
 pressed her ; but she had a deep reverence 
 for conviction, and as she saw him, his 
 head bowed in serious thought, she with 
 held her tongue from argument and as 
 sented to what truth she accepted. Neal 
 looked up. The shadows of the woods 
 were black beyond the broad white path 
 way of the road, edged by the tall, ragged 
 weeds, fairy-like under the general en 
 chantment. The summer chorus had 
 grown somewhat subdued, the fragrance 
 of sweet-william mingled with that of the 
 pines. 
 
 " Betty," he said. Miss Everard s eyes 
 grew a little startled. She had not thought 
 this was so near. She lifted her hand. 
 
 " Hush ! " she said, leaning forward. 
 " Listen a moment." Involuntarily Neal 
 turned his head and looked toward the 
 154
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 road, listening too. The sound of a 
 horse s hoofs was heard. 
 
 It was a most unusual thing at night. 
 Betty was vaguely frightened. There is 
 always something a trifle spectral in the 
 hoof-beats of an unseen horse. Neal was 
 interested and curious. It grew more 
 distinct, the horse and rider were not 
 far off. 
 
 " Who can it be ? " murmured Betty. 
 
 " I don t know, I m sure," answered 
 Neal, and he rose and walked down to the 
 little gate, between the sweet-william and 
 phlox. Betty rose too, and as she waited 
 on the step saw the horse turn down to 
 ward Deacon Evans s. 
 
 " It is someone for me," said Neal, and 
 he half-opened the gate and paused again. 
 There were voices from the house, and in 
 a few moments the horseman had wheeled 
 about, traversed the short remaining dis 
 tance, and stood before Neal at the gate. 
 
 " Old Missis Taunton is dying," said 
 a boyish voice. " She s been took sud- 
 55
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 den, and she says as how she won t die 
 without the minister. So if you 11 ride 
 Streak over, you 11 just about get there, I 
 guess." 
 
 The boy stood holding the bridle, and 
 Neal looked back. " You hear what it is, 
 Miss Everard ? " he said ; " I must go." 
 
 " Yes, of course," she murmured, " I 
 understand." 
 
 He sprang on the horse, lifted his hat, 
 and rode up the road out of sight, and 
 the boy, declining her suggestion of rest, 
 guessed he d walk along. 
 
 Betty went in and put out the sitting- 
 room lamp, nowadays always confided to 
 her care, bolted the front door, and groped 
 her way up the dark stairway. Instead 
 of lighting her bedroom candle, she went 
 to the window through whose uncurtained 
 frame the moonlight poured in. This 
 window was still upheld by Gibbon s 
 " Decline and Fall," and she gazed at 
 the volume with a transient revival of in 
 terest. The second volume had given 
 156
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 place to the first, which had been finished 
 with a sensation of triumph which had 
 carried her, free from conscience-pricks, 
 over three days of no reading at all. 
 With this trifling exception, the window- 
 support sustained its original form. 
 
 " It is curious," she said to herself. 
 " I came up here to devote myself to the 
 past, and it seems to me now that all my 
 interests are in the future." 
 
 She leaned her elbows on the top of the 
 sash. When the messenger had swung 
 himself from his horse below there at the 
 gate, and she had heard him deliver his 
 message, it had seemed a harsh, prosaic 
 interruption to that scene of quiet, ethe- 
 realized emotion. Old Mrs. Taunton 
 was a hard-fisted, rich old woman. Who 
 was she, that she should have come be 
 tween these two just as he looked into 
 her face and called her by her name ? 
 But that impression had been replaced by 
 the realization that it was no trivial thing 
 that had interrupted them. It was not
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 a whim of old Mrs. Taunton. It was 
 nothing less solemn than Death itself 
 one of the two or three great facts of life. 
 There were not so many of them that 
 were unalterable, unevadable yes, to be 
 sure, there was Love. And was not Love 
 always confronted with the awful strength 
 of Death ? Oh, yes, it was appropriate 
 enough. She smiled as she remembered 
 her irritation with his opinions, the nar 
 rowness which had seemed a hopeless 
 stumbling-block in the way of their under 
 standing one another. What were such 
 small matters, compared with the power 
 to face the realities of existence ? How 
 quickly, how naturally, he answered ap 
 peals such as this to-night an appeal 
 men and women of broader culture and 
 larger views might have shrunk from. It 
 seemed to Miss Everard as if, for the 
 first time, she saw the true proportions of 
 things. 
 
 Meanwhile Neal sat by the dying woman. 
 She had sunk into temporary unconscious- 
 158
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 ness, but the doctor prophesied a brief re 
 turn to reason and urged him to remain. 
 Of course he did not dream of refusing, 
 and as he sat there in the darkened room, 
 silent, save for the heavy, uneven breath 
 ing at his side, he, too, face to face with 
 Death, began again to see things in what 
 he felt to be their true proportions. He 
 was still under the spell of Betty s beauty 
 and grace, he still felt the subtle influence 
 of the scene he had just left, but the cau 
 tion of his training and customary line of 
 thought reasserted itself. Was this the 
 woman who would be a helpmeet in the 
 work he had to do ? Would not this very 
 beauty and grace be almost a drawback in 
 an unappreciative parish ? Less avowedly, 
 but forcibly, came the reflection, would 
 not this very quickness of intellect, now a 
 refreshment, be a snare in the way of a fit 
 ting reverence for his authority and his 
 office ? To be sure, she had other claims 
 on his affection. He thought of her as 
 she sat on the farmhouse floor, holding 
 J 59
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 Nat s wounded arm, pale and resolute. A 
 rush of love for her swept him on for a 
 moment, but he fought with it and turned 
 back. It was a crisis in his life let him 
 be wise ! Half an hour later old Mrs. 
 Taunton stirred, and called feebly. Neal 
 knelt down at her side to pray. When he 
 came away in the early morning after she 
 died, he walked back to the farmhouse 
 with firm lips and determined stride. Later 
 that day he wrote a friendly letter to Emily 
 Grant. 
 
 It was the last day of August that the 
 rocking-chairs on the porch were filled by 
 Mrs. Thrum and Mrs. Mint. 
 
 " I m sorry she s going," said the latter. 
 " She has n t been any trouble, and she s 
 made it more lively since she s been here." 
 She continued : " It has seemed more like 
 Whitney more like what it was when I 
 lived there." 
 
 " I m sorry too," said Mrs. Thrum. 
 41 She s going to send me her photograph, 
 and I think I 11 get a frame for it one 
 160
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 of those red-velvet ones. They have em 
 at the Centre. It is n t very good velvet, 
 but I guess it 11 do. Not but what she s 
 used to the best," she added. " Ought to 
 have it, too." 
 
 " Mr. Neal 11 miss her some, I guess," 
 added Camilla, slowly rocking back and 
 forth. 
 
 Elvira s chair jerked back suddenly. 
 
 "Miss her! He ll miss her, fast 
 enough," and the chair flew forward again 
 as Mrs. Thrum rose. " But what s 
 missing ? " and with what might have been 
 a scornful toss she passed into the house. 
 Mrs. Mint knit on placidly, steeped in 
 reminiscences of a young clergyman who 
 made a brief sojourn in Wh tney. 
 
 Miss Everard was writing to Frances. 
 
 DEAR FRANCES [she said], I start for home 
 to-morrow. Yes, I think, perhaps, I am a little 
 bored. But it is time for me to be at home, 
 anyway, if you and I go away for September. 
 As for Corydon yes, again it may be that 
 I long to exchange the combination of crook 
 ii 161
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 and pastoral staff you refer to for something 
 more polished and worldly. Anyway, come 
 and see me at the end of the week. 
 Yours, 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 I ve finished the " Decline and Fall." 
 
 It was more than a year later. The 
 sparse trees of the prosperous manufactur 
 ing town whither Alfred Neal had been 
 called to take charge of a parish were 
 already losing their yellow leaves, and the 
 pretentious house opposite looked as cruelly 
 unshaded and aggressively new as its 
 owner s social position. Neal looked older 
 and somewhat graver this afternoon, as he 
 read the New York paper that had just 
 come by mail. His air of superb con 
 fidence that for a man of good physique 
 and theological training nothing ever came 
 hard had diminished, but he had not lost 
 by the change. Instead, his face had 
 gained in thought and purpose. 
 
 " Married, October fifteenth, at the 
 Church of the Holy Trinity, Elizabeth, 
 162
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 daughter of Franklin Everard " the 
 paper fell with a sudden rustle to the 
 floor, and Neal strode to the window and 
 leaned his forehead against the pane, star 
 ing across at the rich manufacturer s house, 
 which stared back with all the strength of 
 its uncurtained windows. In a few mo 
 ments he came back, picked up the paper, 
 and finished reading the notice. He knew 
 the man by name and reputation well 
 enough. He reddened with shamed annoy 
 ance when he realized that he was trying 
 to think if he had ever heard anything 
 against him, and he was sincerely glad that 
 he had not. He dropped the paper again 
 and threw his head back in his one easy- 
 chair, and in so doing disarranged a silk- 
 embroidered scarf worked by a member of 
 the choir, and knocked off a balsam pillow 
 sent him by one of his Sunday-school 
 teachers. He recalled every incident of 
 his last interview with Betty. After three 
 months of a struggle which had taught him 
 much he had not dreamed it necessary to 
 163
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 learn, he had gone to see her at her own 
 home. She had worn a pale-blue gown, 
 and her head lay against the back of the 
 cushioned, luxurious chair just as he had 
 seen it on the rough pine-tree and the hard 
 door-post at Kenyon s. 
 
 "No, Mr. Neal," she had said, kindly, 
 so very kindly. " It really is too late for 
 this sort of thing, you know. Up there, 
 it was different. I think, one evening 
 the night old Mrs. Taunton died what 
 a superb summer night it was ! do you 
 remember ? " He had raised his eyes and 
 looked at her in silence when she said that. 
 
 " Yes," she went on, " I think you do. 
 Well, that evening I think I was in love 
 with you. I thought you very fine and 
 noble, and I thought you could make me 
 happy. Not that I don t think all those 
 things now, you know," and whether her 
 smile had a touch of its old mockery or 
 not he could not for the life of him have 
 told, " but I accept them as I do other 
 facts, the personal appeal of them has 
 vanished " he had been about to speak 
 164
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 then, but she went on, with a slight ges 
 ture " vanished, I am afraid I must say, 
 Mr. Neal, forever." 
 
 He remembered with a tremor, as of 
 physical pain, how he had felt when she 
 said those words. They were both silent 
 for a moment. Miss Everard s slipper 
 had slightly disturbed the snatched slumbers 
 of a terrier that lay at her feet. Then she 
 had spoken again. 
 
 " But you thought I would not do, you 
 know " 
 
 " Miss Everard," he had broken in, 
 u j " 
 
 "No, don t speak yet, please, Mr. Neal," 
 she had said, smiling still ; " I can say it a 
 great deal better than you can. I have 
 quite a gift for analyzing impressions, and 
 I m not a bit vexed. You thought I 
 would n t do, and " 
 
 He was glad that he had insisted on 
 speaking once, at least. 
 
 " I did a foolish thing," he had ex 
 claimed ; " and I have suffered for it. But 
 it was because I did not heed my own con-
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 victions. I admired you I loved you 
 then, as now, but I did not know until 
 afterward that it was your character, your 
 very self, that I loved as well as your 
 beauty and your wit." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Neal," she had exclaimed, 
 softly, " you are saying beautiful things to 
 me, but " here she had leaned over and 
 frankly held out her hand " but you were 
 right, in the first place ; there is nothing 
 to be sorry for I would n t do at all. I 
 know that now better than you knew it 
 then. I thank you for being wise for us 
 both." 
 
 Had ever man had his wisdom held up 
 to him wearing more completely the guise 
 of folly, he wondered to-day, as he absently 
 played with an etched pen-wiper, the gift 
 of the youngest member of his Bible-class ? 
 Folly, pitiless, irrevocable folly ! and how 
 sweetly she had shown it him, and how 
 sure she had been that she was right ! 
 While he and he rose and straightened 
 himself as though to throw off the burden 
 of his fatal uncertainty was she perhaps 
 1 66
 
 Decline and Fall 
 
 right, right for him as well as for herself? 
 Heaven knows ! 
 
 The afternoon was wearing on. Au 
 tumn clouds were piling up in the west. 
 He looked out of the window again. The 
 manufacturer s youngest son was playing 
 the hose over the clothes hung out to dry 
 in the side yard. He turned away, took 
 his hat, and went out. Down the street 
 was a small, pretty, quiet house, and on its 
 piazza he rang the bell. 
 
 " Is Miss Emily Grant still here ? " he 
 asked the maid who opened the door. 
 
 " Yes, sir," was the answer. " She 
 does not leave till to-morrow." 
 
 " Tell her," he said, entering, " that 
 Mr. Neal would like to see her for a few 
 minutes."
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 I 
 
 long sand-beach stretched in one 
 -*- direction into the vagueness of an 
 irregular curve ; in the other, it lost itself 
 in the unimportance of a fragmentary 
 jumble of bowlders, a small dwelling, and 
 a bathing-house or two. The blue-green 
 water rose and fell under blue depths of 
 space to the distant horizon. The break 
 ers, with ceaseless, untiring effort, lifted 
 themselves, waxed strong and resistless, 
 and sweeping on in bold confidence, 
 dashed themselves to pieces, and foamed 
 and gurgled and lapped the sand in ebb 
 ing weakness, which yet was not all weak 
 ness, but a return to renewed strength and 
 progress. It was the reiterated expression 
 168
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 of treacherous power and its futility. A 
 gaunt, gray wreck lay three-cornerwise on 
 the sand, colorless, grim, and unwillingly 
 conspicuous, as are most skeletons, that, 
 stripped of the bloom and glory that were 
 theirs, still raise themselves in the midst 
 of existence with the unspoken burden, 
 " Here once was happiness." 
 
 The thunder of the surf reverberated, 
 a slight breeze blew from the sea, and 
 there was no other sound or motion from 
 the far-away curve to the distant jumble 
 of bowlders. Suddenly, from the gray 
 timbers of the wrecked vessel s stern, 
 where they lay prone, half-buried by the 
 sand, rose the head of a young girl. 
 Kneeling, she rested a brown hand on 
 the jagged edge of a beam, and, leaning 
 forward, looked up and down the unpeo 
 pled beach. Nothing could be seen of 
 her but a charmingly pretty face, a lot 
 of reddish-brown hair, roughened by the 
 wind, and the supporting hand and wrist. 
 It was as if a spirit of youth had suddenly 
 169
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 risen within the very barriers of desolation 
 to assert a resurrection. 
 
 For a moment she knelt there, motion 
 less, facing the gleaming sea. The strong 
 light drew her eyebrows together into a 
 slight frown as she glanced up toward 
 the sun it was early yet they would 
 come soon. Out at sea a schooner went 
 swiftly across her vision. She watched it, 
 smiling, and with another look north and 
 south, sank back out of sight, and the 
 beach was lonely as before. 
 
 For ten minutes more the sun whitened 
 the sails that flitted about the horizon, 
 the waves broke and retreated and ad 
 vanced, and then down one of the little 
 paths, worn to the sand on the short, 
 dry turf of the fields, and losing itself in 
 the longer beach-grass, came slowly a 
 man and woman. They were both types 
 of a high civilization. She was tall, and 
 carried herself extremely well, but she was 
 obliged to look up to the man who walked 
 by her side. Their costumes bore wit- 
 170
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 ness to the careful carelessness of summer 
 fashion. She paused as they came to the 
 edge of the grass, and he waited, looking 
 at her. Her eyes swept the long curve 
 of the beach with an indolent curiosity 
 far removed from that eager search of a 
 few moments earlier. 
 
 " Nobody here," she said. " Do you 
 know, I feel like the man who discovered 
 the Atlantic Ocean, you know, in the 
 reading-books " She paused and looked 
 at her companion. 
 
 " Yes well ? " he answered. 
 
 " Don t be affected tell me his name." 
 
 " I suppose you mean Balboa, 2nd it 
 was the Pacific," he suggested, without 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " Yes no matter if it was the Pacific 
 I feel like him whenever we come 
 here. Nobody else seems to know about 
 it." 
 
 She spoke with a certain vivacity which 
 seemed to contradict the theory of indif 
 ference which her expression suggested. 
 171
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " I hope they won t find out," he 
 remarked. 
 
 " They like the other beach better, of 
 course. It s nearer home. I feel as if 
 I were cribbed and confined till I get out 
 of sight of the hotel. I am afraid every 
 minute that Mrs. Mellin will ask me what 
 the temperature is." 
 
 They walked on as she spoke, appar 
 ently to a definite goal. 
 
 " How I hate the temperature ! Good, 
 honest talk about the weather I don t 
 mind but I do hate the temperature. 
 Nobody ever agrees about it, to begin 
 with, do they ? " 
 
 " Never," he answered, promptly. 
 "The temperature has probably produced 
 more bearing false witness against thy 
 neighbor than any five other causes within 
 the last year. The thermometer is the 
 curse of modern civilization." 
 
 Though his interest in the question was 
 less burning than hers, the fact that they 
 were together meant more to him than to 
 172
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 her. He watched her, answered her, list 
 ened to her with intensity, while her face 
 and manner never lost their indifference 
 whatever changes her voice might un 
 dergo. They passed the corner of the 
 wreck where the apparition had risen just 
 before, and went down to the other end, 
 where some fallen timbers made a shel 
 tered seat. They were both looking away 
 from the dismantled stern of the vessel, 
 and through a convenient opening in its 
 joints, a pair of eyes watched them eagerly. 
 To be sure, their owner could only see 
 the broad shoulders and close-cut hair of 
 the man, and now and then his profile 
 as he looked up at his companion ; while 
 of her nothing was visible but her blue 
 serge skirt, the russet shoes somewhere 
 about the border of it, her small hands 
 with their several rings, and when she 
 leaned forward to pick up a pebble, her 
 face with its somewhat pale beauty, for an 
 instant. The wind was in the observer s 
 direction, and their voices, raised a little 
 173
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 on account of the surf, came steadily to 
 her ears. 
 
 " How plainly we hear the buoy ! " she 
 said, idly, at last. Evidently they knew 
 each other too well to plunge into con 
 versation under the spur of an embarrass 
 ing pause. The man looked out to sea, 
 whence came the fitful tone at disconcert 
 ing intervals. 
 
 "The wind is in our direction," he 
 said, briefly. Then he returned to his 
 study of the effects of her dark hair under 
 a yachting cap, and that of the chastening 
 indifference of her eyes. 
 
 " What makes it so sad ? " she specu 
 lated. " Is it the irregularity of the sound, 
 do you think ? " 
 
 " Irregularity is not always sad," he 
 objected. "I think it s the well, the 
 aimlessness the the futility of it, 
 don t you know. A bell ought to call 
 people together, and there is n t anybody 
 to call." 
 
 " It is neither aimless nor futile." 
 174
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 The man sat up and clasped his hands 
 about his knee, apparently roused into a 
 defence of his opinions. The eyes behind 
 the wreck saw distinctly his handsome 
 profile. " Well, then," he amended, " in 
 stead of the ordinary mission of a bell, 
 which is, as I say, to call people together, 
 it warns them off. Therefore it is lonely, 
 it must ever be lonely that is why it is 
 unhappy." 
 
 " That is n t what you said before." 
 She was evidently a logician. 
 
 " Is n t it ? No matter." 
 
 The bell swung at the mercy of the 
 water and the wind ; its sound came to 
 their ears in a pause of the surf. 
 
 " Keep away ! Keep away ! " chanted 
 the girl, with the same measured intervals. 
 " I don t know but you are right. It is a 
 rather melancholy burden." 
 
 There was silence again. The man 
 picked up a pebble and threw it into the surf. 
 
 " I ve thought of something else," she 
 said, slowly.
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " That must be a relief," he said, drop 
 ping down again into his former position. 
 She glanced at him questioningly. " To 
 think of something else. I am always 
 thinking the same thing " 
 
 " How monotonous ! " she interrupted ; 
 but he completed his sentence. 
 
 " That I love you." 
 
 The unseen listener leaned perilously 
 forward to see if she could not see the 
 response of look as well as voice ; the 
 blood sprang to her own cheek. Just 
 then the other woman bent forward also 
 and she saw her face. It was calm and 
 unemotional as ever, though a little smile 
 curved her small mouth, as she looked 
 down at her companion. 
 
 " That is nice for me," she said, " but 
 perhaps just a little well, ennuyant for 
 you ! " 
 
 "Anything but that," he said, with a 
 laugh like, yet unlike, her own. 
 
 " Don t you want to know what it is 
 that I have thought of? " she asked, lean- 
 176
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 ing back again on the wreck and putting 
 her arm over her head. 
 
 " By all means." 
 
 " Matthew Arnold s merman." 
 
 " It is almost a pity, is n t it, that you 
 did n t think of him before he did ? Sec 
 ond thoughts may be best, but they 
 have n t the same commercial value." 
 
 " Listen ! " she said. " He is ringing 
 the bell for his human wife to come back 
 she ran away from him, you know, and 
 she doesn t hear of course it is sad." 
 
 " Now you are purely fanciful," he pro 
 tested. " I was trying to be analytic. If 
 it comes to mermen you can make it any 
 thing you like." 
 
 " Come, dear children, come away down; 
 
 Call no more. 
 
 She will not come though you call all dayj 
 Come away, come away! 
 
 she quoted softly. 
 
 " That is just like you, is n t it ? " he 
 commented. " You would be like that. 
 12 177
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 You would never have a regret for what 
 you had left behind you. You would be 
 saying your prayers in the little gray 
 church on a windy hill, wasn t it? 
 no matter who was calling for you out 
 side." 
 
 He spoke with a bitterness that seemed 
 involuntary. She laughed a little. The 
 small hands that were in sight of the silent 
 watcher were playing lazily with the sand, 
 through which the diamonds gleamed with 
 sudden brightness as she half buried her 
 fingers in its colorlessness. 
 
 " Would you have me always regret 
 the the bottom of the sea ? " she asked. 
 
 "I would have you regret nothing. I 
 am too much of a philosopher," he an 
 swered, with a smile at his own presump 
 tion, " but I wish he caught one of 
 her hands from the yielding sand and 
 kissed it twice. The figure behind the 
 wreck clasped her hands with a sudden 
 movement; a rush of noisy waves one, 
 two, three each close behind the other 
 178
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 would have drowned a more emphatic 
 sound. The sparkling hand was with 
 drawn, and the quiet voice was heard. 
 
 " For a philosopher " she paused, and 
 then went on " are n t you a little 
 tempestuous ? " 
 
 ut Toujottrs phtlosophe is a fool, " he 
 answered, quickly. " I Ve forgotten who 
 said that, but it was somebody a great deal 
 cleverer than I and it s true." 
 
 " I don t think you are in any immediate 
 danger of that sort of foolishness." 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 " Think what you ve saved me from." 
 
 "Oh, saved you!" she sighed, with 
 slight impatience. " Why can t you let 
 well enough alone ? " 
 
 " I do, a great deal of the time only 
 you call it well enough I don t." 
 
 She tossed a handful of sand into space, 
 and it was immediately blown hither and 
 yon, into strange places, as are most things 
 that we toss carelessly into space. Some 
 of it went into the eyes of which she was 
 179
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 so unconscious, and made them quite un 
 comfortable for a moment. Apparently 
 with the gesture she dismissed the subject. 
 
 The afternoon waned, the hours passing 
 as swiftly as do all unhurried hours. 
 
 " I d like to walk up the hill," she 
 suggested, " before sunset. Will you 
 
 go?" 
 
 " If you go with me," he assented. 
 
 He offered her his hand to help her to 
 rise. She hesitated a little, laughing still, 
 before she gave him hers the one he had 
 kissed. He grasped it quickly, laughing a 
 little too, and drew her lightly to her feet. 
 She moved a few steps on while he stooped 
 to pick up the shawl and parasol. So 
 standing, she was in full sight from the 
 creviced timbers, it seemed as if she must 
 feel the magnetism of those eager eyes ; 
 but she did not ; she turned and went on 
 toward the hill, the same idle smile on her 
 lips as she looked up at the man who 
 walked with her. Without turning for a 
 last glance at the lonely grandeur of the 
 180
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 surf which still rose and broke and thun 
 dered with no diminution of the majesty 
 that had ceased to be a spectacle to their 
 human eyes, they reached the foot of the 
 hill and began to climb it. The other girl 
 rose from her somewhat cramped position, 
 and slowly shaking the sand from her dress 
 gazed after them. She was perhaps nine 
 teen years old, and too nearly beautiful to 
 escape comment wherever might be ob 
 servers. She stretched her arms lazily, 
 relieved from the narrow limitations of her 
 hiding-place. Her lips were smiling and 
 her cheeks were flushed with excitement. 
 She climbed over the fallen timbers which 
 surrounded her on all sides save that away 
 from the ocean, where the land rose into a 
 little hillock, itself a shield in that direction. 
 Still smiling, she strolled along the sand, 
 and at last threw herself down again upon 
 it, her half-bare arms burying themselves 
 in its warmth, her chin resting in her hands, 
 and her eyes, like ancient mariners, " fol 
 lowing the sea." 
 
 181
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 The sun fell on the reddish masses of 
 her hair, and touched the color on her 
 brown cheeks into deeper warmth, and then 
 slipped away almost imperceptibly behind 
 the hill j but she did not go away, though 
 she shifted her position now and then. 
 She was gifted with an extraordinary fa 
 cility of repose. But she was mentally 
 active, reviewing every sentence of the 
 conversation she had just heard. Many of 
 its allusions, much of its significance, had 
 escaped her. In its lightest triviality there 
 was something that she did not lay hold 
 of; but the tone, the inflection of it 
 this she grasped notwithstanding. The 
 intensity that deepened it, the passion that 
 now and then glanced through it, she 
 caught and responded to with a quickness 
 and a certainty that were remarkable. 
 Moreover, her ears were becoming accus 
 tomed to the language that had been 
 strange at first ; it was no longer the hope 
 less confusion of tongues that it had been, 
 when it had seemed but a saying of things 
 182
 
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 that had no meaning, a slipping away from 
 a meaning before it was half said, com 
 bined with a deafness that came upon them 
 when most tremendous meanings chal 
 lenged their attention. That first time 
 had been when she wakened from a long 
 nap in her favorite corner of the old ship, 
 to hear just outside the voice that she 
 recognized as that of the young lady 
 watched and idolized for three whole weeks. 
 Since then Judith had come with the same 
 companion three or four times, and she 
 had awaited them, eagerly, silently. At 
 last she fancied she saw realized the vision 
 of years, at last the reserve of strength and 
 the sweet coldness of the princess who per 
 ceives the prince had come into her life. 
 Trena Polton had imagination and keen 
 perceptions. To-day, with the sun caress 
 ing her cheeks and throat, with the breeze 
 roughening still further her carelessly 
 knotted hair, with the freedom of the sea 
 before her and its voice in her ears, the 
 warm sand under her, and the blue sky 
 183
 
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 bending down about her, she felt the 
 subtleties and the possibilities of love. 
 
 At last, as the breeze struck more coldly 
 and the warmth departed, she picked her 
 self up, glanced over her shoulder to the 
 glorified west, and went on up the beach 
 to a path more distant than that down which 
 the others had come. 
 
 Meanwhile, at the top of the hill, watch 
 ing the sunset, sat Judith Van Wert and 
 Randal Kane. In the west, over the bay, 
 the sky was changing from gold to rose, 
 and melting here and there into green, and 
 deepening into faint warm tints of purple 
 and curious, dull, breathing reds ; the 
 canoes and row-boats floated softly in a 
 throbbing, molten medium that was not 
 sky and must be water, and a sail-boat 
 drifted silently across the brightness and 
 lost itself in the shadows already beginning 
 to lurk in the near distance. 
 
 " There is no use," sighed Judith, " we 
 can t live up to our sunsets here. What 
 possibility has life to offer us of which that 
 184
 
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 magnificence can be a symbol ? " She 
 paused to gaze silently a moment. "What 
 deed can be done which should not be un 
 worthy such a background ? " she went on 
 dreamily. " What emotion that could burn 
 itself into such a flame of glory ? " 
 
 " After all, there are certain things on 
 earth that are too great for other expres 
 sion," he said. " As for love " 
 
 " Don t," she said, quickly ; " you will 
 introduce that 4 horrible sense of the d eja 
 connu ! " 
 
 II 
 
 THE door of the fisherman s small house 
 was open. Within was the sound of dishes 
 and a slight hissing, suggestive of the with 
 drawal of fish from their native element, 
 and a not far-distant frying-pan. As the 
 girl s shadow deepened the growing twi 
 light of the doorway, her mother looked 
 up. " There you are, Trena," she said ; 
 " Ben s been looking for you." 
 85
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 The somewhat statuesque importance 
 of " Tryphena " had been shortened for 
 daily use into " Trena." 
 
 " He says he 11 meet you after supper 
 in Whaler s lot." 
 
 The girl tossed her head a little. The 
 interior of the small kitchen looked almost 
 dark after the soft brilliance of the outer 
 world. The bright sparkle of fire from 
 the sputtering stove was dim beside the 
 flame that had devoured the heavens. 
 
 " He did, did he ? " she responded. 
 
 Her mother stood with her elbows on 
 her hips, in one hand a steel knife, in the 
 other an iron fork, asserting themselves 
 at right angles to her body, with which im 
 plements, at discreet intervals, she investi 
 gated the fish. She faced her daughter with 
 a sharpness that was not condemnatory. 
 
 " Yes, he did, and I guess you re goin 
 to be there too, ain t you ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I guess I 11 be there," Trena 
 replied, negligently. " Has father come 
 in ? " 
 
 186
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " Come in ? Yes, he s come in. 
 Sometimes t looks as if that was n t any- 
 thin but another name for goin out," 
 sighed the housekeeper, as she turned a 
 crisp fish in the pan. " Lobster-pots this 
 time." 
 
 " He s coming now," said the girl, as 
 she watched a small boat being pulled in 
 through the tinted waters of the bay. 
 Then she sauntered slowly down to the 
 dock to meet him. Her mother stepped 
 to the door and looked after her ; there 
 had been a curious, subdued excitement 
 in Trena s manner that had affected her. 
 She wondered what idea the child had 
 in her head. She watched the short, scant 
 blue skirt as it wavered against the gray- 
 ness of the dock, and noted, half-uncon- 
 sciously, the erect, light figure, and the 
 pretty, well-set head that gave her ineffec 
 tive costume a certain picturesqueness. 
 She did not perceive these details, which 
 would have struck a more tutored eye with 
 their significance, but she felt her daugh- 
 187
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 ter s beauty, and retained this fresh impres 
 sion of it, even after she had returned to 
 the unbeautiful stove and the numerous 
 pots and kettles subject to its sturdy 
 influence. 
 
 As Trena went toward Whaler s lot, 
 after supper, the clouds had faded and 
 grown heavier in the west, and the sky 
 was a curious blending of dark grays, with 
 here and there a vivid red breaking 
 through and vivifying the oppression of 
 the low-lying masses into a sullen hint of 
 rebellion. Trena s spirit was filled with 
 inarticulate discontent. She did not know 
 why the romance of her life had suddenly 
 grown crude and yet colorless. She did 
 not say to herself that it had. She only 
 felt the wide and immeasurable distance 
 between the tryst of Whaler s lot and that 
 of the afternoon on a lonely beach, when 
 the murmurs of love-making drifted in half- 
 meanings and delicate suggestion through 
 the thunder of the surf. She knew so well 
 what Ben would say, and how he would 
 188
 
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 say it. She was sure there would be none 
 of that withheld strength, that reticence of 
 expression that had lent the other inter 
 view something elusive, but distinct and 
 delicious. It would not be like that to 
 night, but perhaps, in time, she might 
 teach him. Why not ? The idea pleased 
 her. Trena s temperament was one pecu 
 liarly susceptible to shades of feeling. Un 
 used to self-analysis, utterly at a loss as 
 she would have been for the terms to ex 
 press the distinctions that she perceived, 
 ignorant of the whole world of artificial 
 and conscious sentiment, she nevertheless 
 was keenly sensitive to the changes, fluctua 
 tions, and significances of emotional expe 
 rience. Had she been a woman of the 
 world she would have been dangerously 
 wise in the nuances of sentimental rela 
 tions, and would, perhaps, have used her 
 wisdom not altogether to edification. But 
 she was not a woman of the world, and 
 she had no gauge to judge of the com 
 parative value of her impulses. To her 
 189
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 fascinated gaze Judith, in her daintiness, 
 her beauty, and her air of experience, was 
 the incarnation of all wild dreams of what 
 she herself would become ; while Kane, 
 whose strength, courtesy, and command of 
 every occasion seemed to her ignorance 
 exclusively his own, was the nobleman 
 who made all other men commoners. 
 With the frank curiosity of a child she had 
 listened to their idle talk, with as little 
 thought of any dishonor in the transaction 
 as if they had been in reality beings of 
 another world. She was like a novice 
 who has watched with rapture the graceful 
 play of the fencing foils, and in eager 
 emulation snatches one of them, too ig 
 norant to see if the button be in place. 
 
 She swung open the big wooden gate 
 that barred the way into Whaler s lot. 
 The late twilight had fallen, but it was 
 long at this season, and the three or four 
 stunted apple-trees that stood together at 
 the further end stretched out their arms in 
 rugged protectiveness, while through their 
 190
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 branches the evening star flickered with 
 an unsteadiness that was that of the slight 
 breeze that was blowing, and not its own. 
 Through all, and under all, and yet un 
 mistakably over all the sounds, the sights, 
 and the beauties of the summer evening, 
 was the long, slow roll of the unseen 
 surf. 
 
 A man s figure advanced from the other 
 side of the field. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I was beginning to 
 cast about for an excuse for being here by 
 myself, in case anybody should happen 
 along, seeing how you did n t seem to be 
 coming." He smiled as he spoke, and 
 taking her hand in his, swung it gently 
 back and forth as they went toward the 
 gnarled apple-trees. She did not answer 
 for a moment, and let her hand rest in his. 
 Then, with sudden coquetry, she looked 
 up at him. 
 
 " Supposing I had n t come ? " she 
 suggested. 
 
 " Well, then," he answered, still smil- 
 191
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 ing, " I guess I d V had to go up and 
 fetch you." 
 
 " Supposing I would n t have come 
 then," she persisted. " Supposing I 
 should n t ever have come ? " 
 
 Ben looked puzzled and then laughed 
 good-humoredly. 
 
 " Well, you re not thinking of getting 
 drowned or or going to boarding-school, 
 are you ? " he inquired, briefly reviewing 
 the two sorts of casualties which, within 
 his memory, had carried off any of the 
 female population of the place. Trena 
 pouted and tossed her head. His calm 
 serenity irritated her. 
 
 " I should n t think you d talk that way 
 about my being drowned," she said. " If 
 I should go go away some day and 
 never come back, perhaps you d talk 
 differently." 
 
 Ben s face grew less untroubled. 
 
 " It depends on why you went," he 
 said, slowly ; " if t was anywhere you 
 did n t want to go I d go after you ; but 
 192
 
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 if it was because you wanted to go, then 
 I guess I d make up my mind to let you." 
 
 Trena glanced at him, a little startled. 
 This new tone did not altogether displease 
 her, though it was unlike what she had 
 heard that afternoon. 
 
 " I might go," she said, airily, "because 
 I liked somebody else better." 
 
 His momentary sternness vanished. 
 This was nonsense she liked nobody 
 better. 
 
 " I don t believe you will," he answered. 
 
 They were standing now under the first 
 apple-tree. He put his arm around her 
 and kissed her cheek. The suddenness of 
 the caress made her forget her new as 
 sumptions. Ben was not prodigal of 
 caresses. She laughed and blushed a 
 little ; her eyes met his and then glanced 
 away to the trees and the evening sky. 
 
 " I don t know as I will," she said. 
 
 Ben stood looking at her in silence ; 
 her red-brown hair had almost escaped 
 from the knot which a tawdry, gilded 
 193
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 hairpin, bought in imitation of Judith s 
 ornaments, was supposed to hold in place. 
 In the faint light it had lost its tawdriness, 
 and gleamed bright gold in the darker 
 masses of her hair. Her eyes were soft 
 ened by the half shyness that had come 
 over her. A little restless under his gaze, 
 she raised her hand to the low-bending 
 bough of the tree, and swung it gently 
 back and forth over her head. Ben could 
 say nothing; he turned and looked toward 
 the invisible ocean, feeling dimly that its 
 deep undertone was expression. Its salt 
 breath was in their faces as the darkness 
 closed in more swiftly and the evening 
 star grew brighter. 
 
 The branch of the old apple-tree swung 
 suddenly back into its place with a sharp 
 swish. It seemed that it might miss the 
 soft, clinging grasp of her warm, brown 
 hand they had so little softness in their 
 lives, these apple-trees they were ex 
 posed to so many icy blasts and so much 
 sready, persistent wind, that much of their 
 194
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 existence was a struggle ; and were it not 
 for occasional visions of sentiment like 
 the present, they would have forgotten 
 that there was such a thing as tenderness 
 in the world. 
 
 " Now I ve come, why don t you talk 
 to me, Ben ? " asked Trena, laughing. 
 
 For a time the spirit of discontent was 
 banished, but Trena s impressible nature 
 had come too decidedly under the spell of 
 a different civilization for her not to return 
 to the attempt to repeat some of its fea 
 tures. Ben s talk about the fishing was 
 monotonous, his confidence in her interest 
 inapposite. 
 
 " What makes you tell me all that ? " 
 she asked, with a flash of impatience. 
 
 " Why do I tell you ? " he repeated, 
 and went on somewhat clumsily, he 
 was utterly unused to analyzing his emo 
 tions. " I don t exactly know. I thought 
 you might no, I guess it s only because 
 I love you." 
 
 Had she been really the sophisticated 
 
 95
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 woman she was trying to fancy herself, 
 the simplicity of this statement would have 
 touched her, did she but know it ; but it 
 was simplicity which had palled upon her. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I suppose you do," she an 
 swered, flippantly. 
 
 Then, with an ill-directed grasp at the 
 evasive sentiment of the afternoon, " But 
 what s the use, Ben, anyway ? " she added. 
 
 Ben was wounded. He did not often 
 tell her that he loved her. He was one 
 of those slow, undemonstrative, not alto 
 gether unreasonable people, who, having 
 made such a statement, expect it to remain 
 in force until contradicted or otherwise 
 falsified, and it hurt him that when he 
 tried to make her understand she should 
 treat his explanation as so trivial. 
 
 " You never asked me what the use of 
 it was before," he said, " and I m sorry 
 you have to ask now." 
 
 They had wandered away from the 
 apple-tree and were leaning against the 
 old rail fence that bordered Whaler s lot. 
 196
 
 "THEY HAD WANDERED
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 A couple of belated, and perhaps dissi 
 pated, swallows, swooped down almost be 
 tween them, and, with what seemed a 
 single flutter of swift wings, were gone. 
 How stupid Ben was to answer her in that 
 sort of way ! Why could n t he have 
 shrugged his shoulders and quoted a line 
 of poetry ? 
 
 He drew nearer to her ; possibly he 
 thought that renewed tenderness might 
 overcome this new wilfulness, some indi 
 cations of which he had seen of late. She 
 moved away pettishly. 
 
 " Let s go back," she said ; " it s late 
 anyhow." 
 
 Ben felt strangely checked and thwarted 
 by her manner. He was not unprepared 
 for a lovers quarrel now and then, but 
 this coolness, this dissatisfaction was not 
 of that sort. In increasing perplexity 
 and regret he let her lead the way from 
 Whaler s lot toward home. Trena herself 
 could have cried with vexation. She had 
 so lamentably failed in producing the 
 197
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 effects she longed for. Ben could not 
 care for her as that other lover cared ! 
 Why, if Ben must kiss her, could he not 
 have kissed her hand ? That swift kiss 
 she had seen on the beach seemed to her 
 awakened imagination more poetic, more 
 intense, fuller of concentrated feeling than 
 all Ben s words and demonstrations. 
 
 The month went slowly by. With 
 grand unconsciousness of the petty ebb 
 and flow of human love and jealousy and 
 distrust, the mighty tides swept themselves 
 over the unresisting sand, or when a storm 
 arose, in magnificent contempt of bondage, 
 dashed themselves over the rocks about 
 the lighthouse. The days were growing 
 steadily shorter, but the afternoons were 
 still sunny, and still Judith and Kane 
 made their way through the long, strong, 
 but yet unsuccessful-looking beach-grass 
 to the hard sand, and across it to the old 
 wreck. Behind the old wreck often 
 crouched a picturesque figure whose heart 
 198
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 was filled with mingled sensations of envy, 
 admiration, dissatisfaction, and something 
 stronger yet, while she listened, half- 
 comprehending, half-bewildered, to their 
 talk with its occasional flashes of passion. 
 Then followed other scenes in Whaler s 
 lot, on the rocks, near the narrow door- 
 stone of the fisherman s house, in the one 
 street of the straggling village wherever 
 Ben and Trena met, which she, with the 
 ignorance of a child and the persistence of 
 a woman, strove to infuse with the caustic 
 mockery and the sceptical spirit of which 
 she had half caught the significance, and 
 so wounded and angered Ben until he 
 slowly and unwillingly became bitter, sus 
 picious, and resentful. 
 
 But to his moods Trena was strangely 
 indifferent ; it was as if she were under a 
 spell the spell of the spirit of the time 
 only to her the drama of the sands lacked 
 one thing climax. Were they going 
 on forever in this way ? she wondered. 
 Still Judith talked of the sea and life and 
 199
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 people, and appealed to him and interrupted 
 him, and still he listened and commented, 
 and now and then said sharp, uncompro 
 mising things, and lazily acquiesced in her 
 interruptions. Was this to be all ? She 
 grew impatient for something she did 
 not know for what. Her unregenerate 
 human heart craved climax. 
 
 One day, the afternoon had grown 
 almost into evening, and they did not 
 come. Trena, half-asleep in her corner, 
 roused herself to go back, it was her sup 
 per hour. Before she rose she heard voices. 
 
 " How can you be so impatient ? " said 
 Miss Van Wert, with an inflection of 
 lingering surprise, " with that calmness be 
 fore your eyes ? Look ! " 
 
 " Good heavens, Judith ! " her compan 
 ion exclaimed, "haven t you had enough 
 of my patience yet ? I should think I had 
 had too much even for you ! " 
 
 " Look ! " she repeated, insistently. 
 
 u Yes," he said, " it is very beautiful, 
 but it is unsympathetic." 
 200
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " Oh, Randal ! " she sighed, " sometimes 
 I think it is your sympathetic people that 
 do all the harm in the world." 
 
 " Enough of your paradoxes ! " he said, 
 almost roughly. 
 
 " Oh, but it is," she persisted. " What 
 we want is example, not sympathy. Now 
 to drift into a peace like that ! " She 
 stood against the wreck, looking seaward. 
 She was in gray and white, a soft gray that 
 blended with the weather-beaten color of 
 the ship. The sea was perfectly still be 
 yond the line of the surf, which seemed to 
 roll in, curve, and break lingeringly, almost 
 gently, under the hush of the sky. A 
 warm pink, felt rather than seen, glowed 
 under the translucent mother-of-pearl of 
 the sky and water. All up and down the 
 sand was a warm stillness. The distant 
 sail lay becalmed in the heart of the 
 rose. 
 
 " I do not want peace," said the man. 
 " I have not your everlasting suscepti 
 bilities." 
 
 201
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 She laughed a little. 
 
 " How cruel you are ! " she said. " If 
 it were not for my susceptibilities, as you 
 call them, you would never have cared for 
 me at all." 
 
 " Heaven knows," he answered, " but I 
 do care for you. I don t care much why." 
 
 " But I like my admirers to be discrim 
 inating," she demurred. 
 
 "And it is nothing to me what your 
 admirers are. I am your lover." 
 
 " Oh, dear," she sighed, gently resting 
 her head against a broken upright beam, 
 and meeting his dissatisfied eyes ; " you 
 are so dreadfully uncompromising." 
 
 He laughed angrily " And you are so 
 distinctly temporizing." 
 
 "No, I am not naturally," she re 
 plied, slowly. " I am halting between two 
 opinions." 
 
 He looked at her steadily. The dissat 
 isfaction died out of his face, giving place 
 to a keen scrutiny. The warmth was 
 ebbing from the mother-of-pearl, and 
 202
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 leaving only the soft grays, like the 
 color of her gown. 
 
 u I wonder if you know what that im 
 plies," he said, at last. She lifted her 
 eyes to his frankly, with the same level, 
 unmoved glance. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, quietly, " I know. 
 But I never get far beyond implication." 
 
 u I wonder if you ever will," he said, 
 half-smiling, "ever get as far as " 
 
 " Confession ? " she interrupted. " Per 
 haps. And then well, then there will 
 be something to say besides good-by," and 
 she held out her hand. 
 
 " Walk with me once up the beach," 
 he said, " and then come back, and I will 
 say good-by." 
 
 Trena s eyes followed them as they 
 moved up the beach. She did not dare 
 wait for their return. It was late, and 
 though her mother had so little time to 
 spare from worrying about her father, she 
 might speculate concerning her absence 
 and possibly send someone to look for 
 203
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 her. Moreover, for the first time, she 
 felt overpower! ngly that she had no right 
 to be there. She shrank from witnessing 
 their parting. Before it had seemed to 
 her a spectacle to-night she knew that 
 she was listening to a man and woman 
 speaking one to the other. She knew 
 how it must end, and it was this very end 
 that she had longed for she need not 
 wait to see it. People who were going 
 to say a real good-by did not talk like that 
 about it. Her instinct told her this was 
 but the prelude to lovers vows. 
 
 Swiftly, in the growing dimness which 
 blurred the distant outlines, she slipped 
 out and ran across the sand toward home. 
 The sail still lay becalmed on the glassy 
 gray of the water, the gray of the sky was 
 tender and warm, but the pulse of crimson 
 which had thrilled it with deeper meanings 
 had vanished. Nevertheless, to Trena s 
 eager eyes the scene still thrilled and 
 glowed with the intensity of a lover s 
 farewell. 
 
 204
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 III 
 
 TRENA S mother regarded life on the sea 
 board as a possession of the frailest pos 
 sible tenure. She was an inland woman, 
 born and bred, and when she married a 
 fisherman she knew next to nothing of 
 the apprehension that was henceforth 
 to be her daily food. She could not 
 grow accustomed to the ocean ; she 
 looked upon the confidence of those who 
 lived on its shores and went down into 
 it in ships of all varieties of promise 
 and performance, as a fatalism little less 
 than impious. To her it was a medium 
 in which people were drowned, nor more, 
 nor less. And those who trusted them 
 selves to a surface which was never in 
 tended to be relied upon were sure to 
 meet this fate sooner or later. Naturally 
 it was only a matter of time when her 
 husband should share the common lot. 
 It would have imparted no comfort to 
 205
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 have suggested to her that for those who 
 dwell on the dryest kind of land it is only 
 a matter of time. Captain Polton never 
 went out in his boat that she did not think 
 that he might not go again. She had 
 learned to keep her forebodings to herself; 
 they were not, she soon realized, in the 
 spirit of the place, and were never received 
 by her husband with anything but good- 
 humored ridicule. But as she made her 
 bread, or swept her kitchen, or fried her 
 fish, she cast glances at the broad, glisten 
 ing, tumultuous ocean which might have 
 been those of a Hindoo worshipper toward 
 a malignant deity. Not once, but many 
 times, had the poor woman s imagination 
 presented to her every detail of the scene 
 she felt was inevitable : the heavy sea, the 
 sturdy, struggling boat, the final plunge, 
 without recover, into the trough of the 
 waves ; then, the upturned wreck floating 
 helplessly in, and on another day, perhaps, 
 the finding of the once strong form, on 
 the dreary beach, of the man whose stiff 
 206
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 hand would never guide the rudder or furl 
 a sail again ; the heavy tramp of the men 
 carrying something with a sail-cloth over 
 it into the little kitchen. With herself 
 in widow s weeds, and Trena in deep 
 black, the forecast ended in sheer despair. 
 This had been enough in the way of ap 
 prehension ; but now, while her husband 
 was out later than usual on a rough 
 night, and while she listened for the slow, 
 heavy step of the bearers, she had to note 
 that Trena had grown pale and tired- 
 looking. 
 
 Partly in consideration for her entreaties, 
 she did not lay commands, public opin 
 ion would have pronounced them too un 
 reasonable, partly from an indifference 
 to the pleasure itself, Trena went out on 
 the water very little, so that the fact that 
 her mother s mind was usually at rest 
 about her, made the present anxiety harder. 
 For that she was anxious about her was 
 undeniable, though it was the furtive, re 
 pressed anxiety of one who has borne such 
 207
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 a burden long, feeling that its expression is 
 unseasonable and perhaps unwelcome. 
 
 One late August evening the girl rose 
 listlessly from where she had been sitting 
 watching her mother sew, and stepped out 
 of the open door. 
 
 " I wonder what it is that has gone 
 wrong," sighed her mother, looking after 
 her. Had she witnessed the parting that 
 took place on the evening of the day, two 
 weeks before, when Trena had returned late 
 for supper and gone out again immediately 
 after with Ben, she might have guessed. 
 
 The charm had been upon Trena still 
 as she went on by Ben s side, careless 
 of the direction in which he led, careless 
 of the words that he might say. It 
 seemed cruelly commonplace to-night, this 
 wandering across the fields in this ordi 
 nary acknowledged fashion utterly des 
 titute of all the charm that clung to the 
 half-said and the tacitly understood. Ben 
 felt the coolness of her mood at once. 
 He had come with news to-night he 
 208
 
 {Ineffectual Fire 
 
 had a chance to go into business in a 
 larger way, in a larger place; to him, poor 
 fellow, this evening, instead of being of the 
 commonplace, was touched with a halo of 
 realized happiness and of dear possibilities ; 
 they might be married now, and surely, 
 in the thought of this nearer relation, her 
 late tantalizing capriciousness and wound 
 ing indifference would yield to something 
 sweeter so he had hoped before they 
 met. The very exultance of his antici 
 pation rendered him peculiarly susceptible 
 to the coldness of her manner; he was 
 the more hurt by the way in which she 
 passed over his attempts to lead her to 
 personal considerations. It was as if she 
 thrust back upon him all that he felt, 
 and part of which, with unusual demon- 
 strativeness, he might have said. The 
 news was still untold when they finally 
 reached the end of their walk, the only 
 mass of rock of any considerable height 
 on this bit of the coast. The darkness, 
 that, hurrying to reclaim the tender twilight, 
 r 4 209
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 sweeps into the last days of summer 
 with encroaching suddenness, had cast 
 itself over sea and land. Ships lanterns, 
 near and far, were twinkling over the 
 water. A revolving light sent its inter 
 rupted message of deliverance across the 
 dimness. 
 
 " Trena," said Ben, " I m going away." 
 
 Trena s first impulse was one of plea 
 sure. It was better than she had fancied 
 possible. Here was a parting made ready 
 to her hand. Her lover, too, had come 
 to say farewell. Why should they, too, 
 not have speech, half-quiet, half-passionate, 
 by the sea ? Perhaps Ben caught the 
 gleam of this satisfaction in her eyes. 
 Certainly he did not read there what he 
 had hoped for. 
 
 " Going away ! " she replied. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, quietly enough, 
 " I came to tell you." 
 
 " Well the best of friends must 
 part ! " the girl said, lightly. He glanced 
 at her questioningly. She was gazing at 
 210
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 the distant horizon, where a faint lumi- 
 nousness indicated the rising moon. 
 
 u It need n t mean that we must part," 
 he went on, with an effort. " Perhaps it 
 means that we can stay together," he 
 concluded, awkwardly. 
 
 " Stay together ? " she repeated, her 
 eyes still on the horizon, while he watched 
 her eagerly, longing for some response to 
 the deep feeling in his own heart so 
 deep that it made words come hard. She 
 had caught Judith s very pose of the head. 
 " And how do you know we shall like 
 that ? " 
 
 " Look here, Trena," said he, roughly, 
 " are you listening to me ? " She turned 
 toward him. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I m listening fast enough." 
 Her imitation of Judith s manner would 
 have been amusing if it had not been 
 pathetic the realities were so unlike. 
 
 " Then, if you are listening to me, 
 why does n t it mean something to you ? " 
 broke out the man, passionately. " To 
 
 211
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 me it s what isn t it to me? "he de 
 manded, checked by the force of his own 
 emotion. " And you, you sit there look 
 ing out to sea as if you did n t care 
 whether I lived or died, or went or came ! 
 Is this what it means all this way 
 you ve got lately, of you will and you 
 won t, and you wish things was different, 
 and why don t I do things that I don t 
 do is this what it all means, that you 
 don t care ? " 
 
 Trena was thrilled with excitement. 
 She had never seen Ben like this. This 
 was what she wanted ; this outburst, vio 
 lent as it was, had in it something of the 
 held-down intensity that now and then 
 broke the bonds of sober speech down 
 there on the sand. 
 
 " Oh my, Ben ! " she laughed, " what 
 a fuss just because I like to look out to 
 sea ! There s too much caring and not 
 caring in the world, anyhow. What will 
 it all amount to in a hundred years 
 you and me and our talk about this and 
 
 212
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 that ? I say I might as well look out to 
 sea as listen to you." 
 
 " Does that mean that it is n t anything 
 to you ? " Ben s voice was hoarse. In 
 spite of what he had said, of his being 
 suddenly overwhelmed, as it were, by the 
 evidences which seemed to rush toward 
 him from the past two or three weeks, he 
 had not believed that there was no expla 
 nation but that that she did not care, 
 that it meant nothing to her. 
 
 " Perhaps it does, and perhaps oh, I 
 don t know." 
 
 " If that s how you feel," began Ben, 
 with a certain grimness, " then " 
 
 " There you go again," she laughed, 
 mockingly. Her laughter caught an in 
 tonation of Judith s, though it was louder. 
 u Talking about feelings sometimes I 
 wonder if I ve got any." 
 
 There was a moment s silence. Slowly 
 the misshapen disk of the moon rose above 
 the dark waters, and its faint rays trembled 
 upon their wavering surface. 
 213
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " If that s the way you feel or don t 
 feel it don t make much matter which," 
 said Ben, slowly, " then there won t be 
 anything more to say about my feelings. 
 I ve said my last say on that. And I 
 guess the less we see of each other the 
 better, and it won t be long anyway that 
 there 11 be any chance. I m going next 
 week." He had spoken so far with care 
 ful deliberation. Now he rose to his feet. 
 u I m going home, now," he said, and the 
 fire of his anger blazed through his words, 
 " and I m sorry I ever came with you ! 
 I m sorry I ever saw you. You ve fooled 
 me till you ve tired of me, and now you 
 have done with it not like a girl that 
 tells the truth and gives a man the go-by 
 and done with it, so that he knows where 
 he is and what she is but with a lot of 
 words that don t amount to anything ; and 
 that shows that she s more n half afraid 
 of her own meaning, and that she wants 
 to play with him and let him go at the 
 same time. I m tired of it, and I m 
 214
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 done with it, and I m done with you, 
 Trena, too ! " He turned on his heel, 
 and took long, quick strides over the 
 uneven grass. The whole moon had 
 risen now, and the trembling light grew 
 assured, though the surface it shone 
 upon still wavered. The world had 
 come from darkness into light, but sud 
 denly Trena felt herself within a cold 
 shadow. This was not what she had 
 looked for. It was not thus that the 
 scene was to end. Her soul was filled 
 with dismay. 
 
 " Ben," she called, and her voice 
 sounded frightened, " Ben, come back, 
 don t leave me here alone." 
 
 He paused and then swiftly retraced 
 his steps. They saw each other s faces 
 distinctly in the white radiance. 
 
 " Come," he said, briefly. She held 
 out her hands to him to help her rise. 
 He bent over her and lifted her to her 
 feet. How strong he was ! She clung 
 to him, but he put her down. 
 2I 5
 
 "[Ineffectual Fire 
 
 " Come," he said again, and she fol 
 lowed him along the narrow, trodden 
 footpath. Just beyond they met an older 
 man who was going their way. Ben 
 dropped into the road beside him, and 
 they went together to Trena s door. She 
 clinched her hands in helpless anger at 
 the presence of this third wayfarer. She 
 chafed wildly against the restraint, and 
 her heart was filled with hot, uncompre 
 hending rebellion and self-reproach. She 
 had an impulse to throw herself at Ben s 
 feet in the dusty road, and beg him to 
 wait, to listen; but his face deterred her 
 she thought he might put her one side 
 and go on, and then she should die. At 
 the door the casual companion would have 
 left them, but Ben bade her good-night, 
 and walked on with him. Only then 
 could she burst into tears it had been 
 such a pitiable ending ! 
 
 She had not seen him again, and now 
 it was two weeks later. To-night the 
 anger and the pain and the self-reproach 
 216
 
 {Ineffectual Fire 
 
 were not yet stilled and, as yet but half- 
 comprehended. As she stood in the little 
 porch, the silent night brooded over the 
 waters and hushed the world into listening 
 to the dolorous beat of the breakers on 
 the beach below. A storm was rising, 
 and the wind brought its fresh dampness 
 to her. Behind her lay the little village, 
 dark, for" the most part, and apparently at 
 rest from anxieties and worryings ; at her 
 side, the homely kitchen and its homely 
 associations of shelter and comfort ; before 
 her, the great unrest, the merciless, sym 
 pathetic sea. She laid her head on her 
 arms and sobbed. It was as if all the 
 peace and quiet of the village, all the 
 comfort, the soft shelter of affection and 
 strength were taken away from her, and 
 she was left alone to face the wide unrest 
 of life. Youth does not discriminate ; she 
 felt that she had lost everything. Her 
 mother looked wistfully out into the dark 
 ness, where Trena s figure was dimly 
 visible. 
 
 217
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " I never mistrusted anything could 
 happen to her on dry land," said the 
 sailor s wife to herself, not without 
 pathos. 
 
 IV 
 
 DAY after day went by, and their hours 
 taught Trena undreamed-of things ; they 
 were peaceful hours of early autumn, 
 when the earth is at rest, and, having 
 seen the glow, and the richness, and 
 the ripeness, breathes deeply, knowing 
 that it is very good. She was always out 
 of doors. Sometimes she took the walk 
 through Whaler s lot, where the apple- 
 trees sunned themselves, and one stumbled 
 now and then over a fallen apple in the 
 leaf-strewn grass the leaves prematurely 
 old and withered. Usually she went 
 toward the water, oftenest to the rocks 
 where they had parted finally. One day 
 she went down to the old wreck. This 
 218
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 time she took the place where Kane and 
 Miss Van Wert had spent so many hours. 
 They had gone away ; she had never seen 
 them again. Why was it, she asked her 
 self for the hundredth time, why was it 
 that what she did had made so different 
 an end ? Judith had spoken as carelessly, 
 had laughed oftener, and yet he had never 
 left her in bitterness he had known 
 that it was not really the end. He had 
 found her again, of course, and they were 
 happy somewhere now; while she oh! 
 why could not Ben have understood ! 
 She longed for the steadiness that had 
 been wont to pin down her fluttering 
 whims with an apparent carelessness that 
 she had admired while she had resisted it. 
 The tears came into her eyes, rolled down, 
 and then slowly ceased. The calm of 
 Nature fell upon her. Vague, great 
 thoughts dawned in her soul. Her imagi 
 nation had a vision of the realities and the 
 eternities. They were the old thoughts 
 that the sea brings the unsparingness 
 219
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 of its power, its lawlessness, and its order. 
 Not to change human misery into human 
 happiness would it check one breath of 
 the swift impulse that swept those waves 
 up the shore, and yet it had so many 
 waves and so much strength, such un- 
 wasted energy, that it might well spare 
 and be merciful. Humanity is so small 
 to the greatness of nature, but the great 
 ness of nature is not infinite for Infinity 
 can take thought for the littleness of hu 
 manity. She felt this, though she could 
 not have said it, and it was with more 
 calmness that she went back to her own 
 suffering. She had thrown away her hap 
 piness, though she knew not how, and 
 they that slight girl in gray, and the 
 man who stood by her side they had 
 known how to be happy. Suddenly she 
 straightened herself as one who sees action 
 instead of endurance before her. There 
 was one who knew the secret of doing 
 and leaving undone, there was one who 
 had led her into the snare there was 
 
 220
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 but one who could show her the way 
 out ! 
 
 She herself had not known how to 
 conjure, but had learned but half the 
 secret it was for her now to learn the 
 rest of it. 
 
 Three or four days later Miss Van 
 Wert was sitting on the piazza of her 
 father s house in one of the suburbs 
 of a large city. It was, by one of 
 New England s freaks, as warm as mid 
 summer, and the beauty of the evening 
 had brought her outside, although the 
 leaves of the woodbine rustled more dryly 
 than in real summer nights, and there 
 was a sharper and more active tone in 
 the crisp utterances of a neighboring 
 cricket. 
 
 " So you are sorry the summer is 
 over ? " asked her companion. 
 
 " Yes," she answered ; " it seems to be 
 the only season of irresponsible enjoy 
 ment left us. In these socialistic times 
 it behooves us to weigh our pleasures crit- 
 221
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 ically and take them sadly, when winter 
 is upon us. But in summer oh ! in 
 summer, nothing means anything or in 
 volves anything or " Judith paused, 
 for there was a step on the piazza. She 
 looked toward the entrance, where, in the 
 light of the electric lamp, falling on that 
 unshaded part of the porch, a girl s figure 
 was plainly discernible. 
 
 "Is Miss Judith Van Wert here?" 
 asked a voice she did not recognize. 
 Judith rose and went forward. 
 
 " Yes," she said, in her low, even 
 tones ; " did you wish to see me ? " 
 
 u Yes," said Xrena, " I I want to 
 see you very much." Her eyes wandered 
 to the man at the end of the piazza. He 
 was sitting on the railing, his face in the 
 deep shadow of the woodbine. 
 
 " That is Randal Kane, I suppose," she 
 said suddenly. Judith s questioning look 
 grew surprised. 
 
 " No," she answered, mechanically, 
 "that is not Mr. Kane."
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 u What ! " exclaimed the girl. Her 
 voice was intense and anxious. " Is n t 
 he with you ? Does n t he does n t he 
 keep company with you any more ? " 
 
 A shade of hauteur fell across Judith s 
 face. 
 
 " I do not understand " she began. 
 Trena laid her brown hand on her 
 arm. 
 
 " I don t understand," she said, in her 
 turn, as if the other had not spoken. " I 
 came to find out. I thought you would 
 tell me." She paused in pitiful per 
 plexity. The ground was slipping from 
 beneath her feet. Suddenly she grew 
 frightened and the tears came to her 
 eyes. She was tired and alone, and Ben 
 was farther off than ever. It seemed 
 that this beautiful woman had made a 
 mistake herself, her lover had left her too 
 How could she help her ? Judith 
 watched the girl intently. There was 
 something here she could not understand, 
 but there was nothing bold in her voice or 
 223
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 manner. Moreover, there was something 
 not entirely unfamiliar. 
 
 " Suppose we come inside," she said, 
 quietly, and she turned to her other visitor, 
 " Will you excuse me ? " 
 
 The man came forward instantly. 
 
 " I will come another time, Miss Van 
 Wert," he said ; " good-night," and with 
 a smile he bowed and went by the two 
 women, down the piazza steps, to the 
 gate. As he passed, Trena saw his face 
 in the light ; it was that of a man she had 
 never seen. This little incident seemed 
 to demolish all her hopes. With a ter 
 rible oppressive sense of mistake, she 
 dumbly followed Judith into a small re 
 ception-room. Judith had remembered 
 now. She recognized her as a fisher 
 man s daughter with whom she had now 
 and then, that summer, exchanged a few 
 words. She moved a low chair forward 
 as she turned to her guest. 
 
 " We can talk better here," she said, 
 and then paused, struck by the girl s 
 224
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 beauty. She had been pretty before 
 she had noticed her hair and eyes and 
 color but there had been a change that 
 had intensified everything about her, and 
 that made her beauty dramatic as she 
 stood in the doorway with wide, startled 
 eyes, pale cheeks, and a certain weariness 
 of expression. 
 
 " Won t you sit down ? " said Judith, 
 smiling with a friendliness the pathos of 
 the face impelled her to express. 
 
 Trena moved forward slowly and sank 
 into the chair. She was exhausted and 
 faint from hunger, though she did not 
 know it, for she had come straight from 
 the railway station here. The lighted 
 room, the luxury, dismayed her. But, 
 more than all else, this being suddenly 
 brought face to face with the woman who 
 had been so constantly in her thoughts agi 
 tated her. Every pose, every gesture of 
 Judith s was familiar to her ; the tones of 
 her voice struck her ear as if she had heard 
 them yesterday, her scrutiny had been so 
 15 225
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 keen and so direct. She wore a different 
 dress, and it was a different place, but it 
 was the same woman. 
 
 " Do you mean that he really left you 
 that time ? that he never came back ? " 
 asked Trena, slowly. " Have you never 
 seen him again ? " 
 
 The question was certainly not without 
 significance. Judith colored slowly, and 
 her eyes wavered an instant from their 
 calm steadiness. Moreover, she was 
 utterly at a loss to understand her ; but 
 she had learned that the easiest way 
 of meeting a difficult social situation is 
 usually the nearest at hand. 
 
 " I have seen Randal Kane since last 
 summer, oh, yes ! " she said ; " we are 
 very good friends, but we do not meet 
 very often in the winter." 
 
 " Don t you know how to make him 
 come back ? " asked Trena, with a touch 
 of despair. 
 
 The shadow of a smile flitted across 
 Judith s lips, and then a suspicion which 
 226
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 had flashed across her mind made a longer 
 stay. Had the girl fallen in love with 
 Kane ? If so, how much did he know 
 of it ? 
 
 " I have not wanted to know," she re 
 plied, watching Trena without seeming to 
 do so. " He does not live here ; I do 
 not know just where he is. He writes 
 books," she added, vaguely, conscious of 
 the pitiable inadequacy of the statement. 
 To some people it would have explained 
 so much ; but, she felt hopelessly, it would 
 not help this girl to understand. " He 
 has plenty to do plenty of people to 
 see." Xrena s face did not change. 
 Evidently it was his absence that troubled 
 her, not what he might be doing else 
 where. 
 
 " Then how am I to make Ben come 
 back ? " she asked, stonily. 
 
 " Ah ! there is a Ben," thought Judith, 
 relieved. " I cannot help you ; I cannot 
 even understand until you tell me," she 
 said, quietly. 
 
 227
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 Suddenly the girl s mood changed. 
 
 " Why is he not here ? " she demanded, 
 with shining eyes. " I saw you together ! 
 I watched you ! I listened to you ! He 
 cared about you you cared about him 
 you did not say so, but I knew it. He 
 told you he loved you, because I heard 
 him ! " she went on, breathlessly. " And 
 you listened to him, and you never told 
 him to stop or to go away. Is that all it 
 means with you rich people ? Is that all 
 it means ? " She rose to her feet and 
 came nearer Judith. " I come here, and 
 there s another one here, and you tell me 
 you do not know where that one is and 
 that you do not see him ever." The un 
 conscious mimicry of her tone, which was 
 the result of Trena s observation, struck 
 Judith unmistakably with a new surprise. 
 " Is that all it comes to that you do not 
 care, either ? And I thought I thought 
 you could tell me how to get Ben 
 back ! " Her voice broke. " I tried to 
 be like you," she went on, miserably, 
 228
 
 {Ineffectual Fire 
 
 " and that was what you meant that 
 he should go away and not come back. 
 I was like you," she concluded, with a 
 sob, " I was and Ben has gone away 
 too." 
 
 Judith had sat perfectly still as she lis 
 tened to the girl. She had grown pale, 
 but had neither moved nor spoken. It 
 was as if the fierce arraignment had proved 
 her guilty. " Whom summer makes 
 friends of, let winter estrange," was say 
 ing itself over and over in an undercurrent 
 of thought. Now she rose and led Trena 
 back to her chair. 
 
 " Sit down," she said, gently, " and tell 
 me all about it. If Ben has gone, you 
 shall have him back again I promise 
 you that." There was something in the 
 low voice that quieted the other woman. 
 " Yes, he shall come back," repeated 
 Judith, insistently. " It would break my 
 heart if he did not ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 u Your heart ? " asked Trena, in dull 
 surprise. 
 
 229
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " Yes, mine," answered Judith. 
 
 The story was not long in the telling, 
 but Judith listened to it with a variety of 
 sensations. It was startling to learn of 
 the espionage to which she had been sub 
 jected ; to know that while she had sup 
 posed herself alone with Kane their words 
 and actions were scrutinized by another 
 human being. It was impossible not to 
 resent this ; but it grew upon her, as 
 Trena went on, that their personalities 
 were nothing to this imaginative creature ; 
 that Judith Van Wert had been but a 
 woman with a lover; playing a part that 
 had fascinated the observer, who had longed 
 to imitate it. This removal of personality 
 from the scene made it offend her less. 
 When Trena finished, with the same 
 abrupt question, " Why should it have 
 seemed so real, if it was not ? " Judith 
 tried to explain it to her, and found herself 
 faced by impossibilities. It was as if she 
 spoke another tongue. She leaned forward 
 as she sought for the right words, her 
 230
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 hand with its sparkle of gems on the dark 
 plush of her chair. The glint of the 
 diamonds drew Trena s eyes. With a 
 sudden throb of recollection, " He kissed 
 your hand," she interrupted. Judith col 
 ored vividly. 
 
 " You should not have watched us ! " 
 she exclaimed, quickly. 
 
 " I did not think it was any matter," 
 said Trena, almost indifferently. The 
 reproach did not touch her as it would 
 afterward. Then Judith went back to 
 her impossibilities. How trivial it sounded 
 to tell this eager, passionate girl that the 
 language she had held to be the language 
 of love had been but that of well, of 
 what ? sentiment ? emotion ? idleness ? 
 Yet it had meant something a good 
 deal, perhaps. It had not been all affec 
 tation ; indeed it was genuine after a 
 fashion. Only it was not expected to 
 last forever ; they saw the end from the 
 beginning, but they did not say so no, 
 of course not. Judith found herself in 
 231
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 a maze of contradictions ; and yet there 
 had been no ambiguity, it had all been 
 clearly understood. Had it not been ? 
 For an appreciable space of time a quiver 
 of doubt weakened her position. Was it 
 possible that the difficulty had been with 
 the conception of the parts, hers as well 
 as his ? No, no the trouble was with 
 Trena herself. 
 
 " Ben was right," she said, when Judith 
 stopped speaking, " it was all just a lot of 
 words that don t amount to anything, so 
 that a man don t know where he is nor 
 what she is." 
 
 What use to say to a girl like this that 
 whom summer made friends of, winter 
 might be permitted to estrange ! 
 
 "If she were an inhabitant of another 
 world," Judith said to an interested listener 
 afterward, with the impatience born of 
 self-reproach, " it could n t have been 
 harder to make her understand. I felt 
 as if I were being visited by a a mis 
 sionary from Mars ! " 
 232
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 THE next evening Trena walked into the 
 little kitchen where her mother was frying 
 fish. The fish sputtered cheerfully, and 
 there was a trifling access of cheerfulness 
 in Mrs. Polton s manner. 
 
 " Well," she remarked, with the usual 
 lack of demonstration in persons of her 
 reticent sort, " so you ve come back ? 
 I hope you got to see your aunt you was 
 so anxious to. I never knew you set so 
 much store by your father s relations before." 
 
 " Yes, I saw her, mother," said Trena, 
 smiling an instant, as she came and stood 
 by the fire. " Where s father ? " 
 
 " Ashore, thank mercy ! " said the skip 
 per s wife. " His boat s sprung a leak and 
 he s looking after it. I s pose next time 
 it springs one it 11 be in the middle of the 
 sea " she sighed " and that 11 be the 
 end on him." 
 
 233
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " Oh, maybe not," said Trena absently. 
 She was still depressed. 
 
 " Find out where Ben is," had been 
 Judith s last words, " and let me know." 
 But what could she do ? Judith had failed 
 her once, and a great despair had come 
 upon Trena s soul. 
 
 " For the land s sake ! you re whiter 
 than a clam-shell ! " said Trena s mother 
 suddenly. " Sit down, and I 11 give you 
 your tea." 
 
 When Captain Polton came in Trena 
 was more like herself. 
 
 " Where s Ben Shelton gone to, father ? " 
 she asked, abruptly, as they sat at the 
 supper-table. 
 
 Captain Polton was a man to whom 
 anything that happened on dry land was 
 as trees walking. At sea his eye was 
 alarmingly keen : he knew the special 
 quality of a breeze while it was yet un 
 declared ; his instinct of the whereabouts 
 of the blue-fish was unerring ; his acquaint 
 ance with monsters of the deep was 
 234
 
 ^Ineffectual Fire 
 
 both wide and reliable, but the shore 
 limited his investigations. Therefore he 
 saw no particular significance in Trena s 
 question, which was not so lost on her 
 mother. 
 
 "He s layin over to Riverton, I guess," 
 he answered between mouthfuls. " Got 
 some kind of a job over there. They say 
 he s doin well well as you can on dry 
 land." 
 
 " The Lord made the dry land for men, 
 and the water for fishes," said Mrs. Pol- 
 ton, seeing her way to a point ; " and all 
 He did n t do was to put understandin 
 into the men, so they d know their place 
 as well as the fishes do." 
 
 " These here fishes understanding must 
 have played em considerable of a trick," 
 remarked her husband, with a gesture, 
 nearly related to a wink, for Trena s 
 benefit. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Polton, with her 
 sex s readiness in changing her ground, "I 
 do like to see a man eat with an appetite." 
 235
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 " Ben Shelton s comin over here next 
 day after to-morrow night," volunteered 
 the captain. Trena sat up straight in her 
 chair. " I know because Stoddard s boy s 
 borrowed an oar of me. He s comin 
 late one night, and going to ketch the 
 early boat over to the Point nex morning, 
 and Stoddard s boy s goin to pull him 
 over. He 11 have to leave bout day 
 break, I reckon. His business ain t goin 
 to hender him long. That s how I happen 
 to know by the oar," he concluded, 
 conscious that this unusual supply of in 
 formation needed some explanation. 
 
 " Next day after to-morrow night," 
 said Trena to herself. 
 
 The two following days went slowly, 
 but when the evening of the second came, 
 passed, and deepened into night, without 
 bringing to Trena any sign of Ben s 
 presence, she felt that they had flown. 
 One more chance of seeing him remained, 
 and that she determined to seize, half in 
 desperation that it was but one more ; half 
 236
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 in faint-hearted hope aroused by Judith s 
 confidence. 
 
 He was to leave at dawn ; she knew 
 the little place where Stoddard s boy s 
 boat was moored ; it was overlooked by 
 the very rock where they had parted ; she 
 should be there to see them go. 
 
 She woke with a start as the sky was 
 beginning to brighten. She dressed, and 
 as it was still too early to expect to see 
 him, seated herself in the small window 
 of her room and looked toward the grow 
 ing glory of the east, watching the " day 
 fill its blue urn with fire." The sky was 
 red and purple and green, with a grand 
 waste of color and pulsing radiance, as 
 though this were the last day and the final 
 sun-rising, and all the beauty that was left 
 in heaven should be lavished upon it. 
 The earth was still, in awed but beneficent 
 expectation. Trena could not see the 
 surf, but she heard its monotonous beat 
 as it rolled in solemnly under the glorified 
 sky. Its sound was in a different key 
 2 37
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 from that of the later day. It was as if 
 it too was hushed into a reverent waiting 
 for the advent of some great Power that 
 was to come, and listened for its footsteps, 
 even as it broke in plashing music on the 
 shore. As the glory faded into a con 
 centrated brightness low down in the 
 east, Trena rose and went out, and as she 
 seated herself on the rock " up leaped, of 
 a sudden, the sun." It was day, and the 
 mystery of dawn departed, and the ordinary 
 sights and sounds began to be. From one 
 of the chimneys, as Trena looked land 
 ward, curled a veil of smoke. From a 
 neighboring house a man went from the 
 kitchen door for an armful of wood. The 
 working of the miracle was over the 
 angel had troubled the waters and had 
 gone. But the day was still new, its fresh 
 ness yet unspoiled, the clear mirror of its 
 hours was yet unbreathed on by human 
 care and greed and selfishness. Trena 
 looked up suddenly and saw Stoddard s 
 boy, with the oars over his shoulder, going 
 238
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 to his boat. Then she turned her head 
 in the other direction and saw Ben com 
 ing toward the shore. He would have to 
 pass very near her. In the stillness of the 
 morning content she folded her hands and 
 waited. As he drew near he saw her and 
 paused ; then, with the long, quick step 
 she knew, he came toward her. How 
 handsome he was ! She had not seen him 
 for so long so long. Stoddard s boy 
 had gone into the house for something it 
 was as if they were alone in a new world. 
 
 " What made you come here, Trena ? " 
 he said, looking down at her. 
 
 " Oh, Ben ! " she said, with tender im 
 patience, " you know why I came it was 
 the only place I could find you." 
 
 " So you wanted to find me ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, looking up at 
 him steadily. Then she laughed a little : 
 " I don t care so much about partings as 
 I used to, Ben." 
 
 Stoddard s boy came out of the house 
 whistling as Ben sat down by her side. 
 2 39
 
 Uneffectual Fire 
 
 Suddenly he stopped whistling and went 
 into the house again, and left them alone 
 in the early morning world. Only their 
 voices were in their ears, with the ebb 
 and flow of the water growing louder as 
 the tide came in, as if it were deepening 
 into the turmoil of the day. 
 
 240
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 I 
 
 " T_T E wasn t the original Timothy," 
 
 i- J- said Mrs. Pinquit hastily ; " he 
 was his nephew." 
 
 u Oh, then their descent is only col 
 lateral ? " 
 
 " Only collateral." 
 
 " The original Timothy was an officer 
 in the colonial wars, and his nephew 
 simply justice of the peace," explained 
 Mrs. Pinquit, "and then he married the 
 sister of the Mary that afterwards became 
 the wife of the deputy governor." 
 
 " He was my ancestor," said a voice, 
 
 thin, but penetrated by a note of decision 
 
 that defied the conclusions of a fuller 
 
 organ. " He left two sons, who after- 
 
 16 241
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 wards distinguished themselves both in 
 civic and military life. The first was 
 one John, and he went to Ipswich, and 
 married there one of the daughters of 
 the commissary general, and left numerous 
 descendants " 
 
 " I did n t know the commissary gen 
 eral had more than one daughter," said 
 Mrs. Thomas, occasionally surnamed Didy- 
 mus by her exasperated co-patriots. 
 
 " He had three," went on the thin voice. 
 " The other brother came to Moosup, and 
 it was his great-granddaughter who, at 
 the time of the Revolution, detained the 
 British officer until a messenger could be 
 sent to General Washington. She was 
 my great 
 
 " It was from Moosup that my ances 
 tors came, the one that left us the silver 
 tankard with the arms of seven families 
 engraved on it," said a tall, spare woman, 
 whose ascetic appearance gave the lie to 
 any injurious reports sometimes circulated 
 with tankards in families. 
 242
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 " great-grandmother," concluded the 
 thin voice. " She left my grandmother 
 the salt-cellar that is the exact pattern 
 of the one belonging to Governor Win- 
 throp " 
 
 " I have one of those Moosup salt 
 cellars," interrupted a second time the 
 ascetic speaker. " What was your great- 
 grandmother s name ? " 
 
 " Great-^mrt-grandmother. She was 
 one of the Moos family Eunice." 
 
 " Of course. Eunice Moos. Then 
 we must be cousins." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose we are." Enthusiasm 
 was absent from both countenances as 
 they admitted the fact. 
 
 " I always thought my grandmother 
 ought to have had both salt-cellars," said 
 the thin voice. 
 
 " It seemed a pity to separate them," 
 replied the other dryly. 
 
 " Evidently the salt was spilled," whis 
 pered the one irreverent member of the 
 conclave to Mrs. Pinquit. 
 243
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 "To go back to the question," said 
 the presiding officer firmly, " it seems to 
 me that the Claim that has just been put 
 in is as good as some others that we have 
 admitted." 
 
 " And they say that she has traced nine 
 other lines of descent since she entered 
 this one," said another member of the 
 committee. 
 
 " I wish I could get my nineteenth 
 finished," said somewhat querulously a 
 large woman who was fanning herself 
 
 & o 
 
 slowly and powerfully. " If I could find 
 out whom the second son of the Canters 
 of Canterbury married, it would be com 
 plete. I know he was in the militia and 
 that his wife was the daughter of a 
 magistrate." 
 
 " I don t see how you can know that 
 unless you know the name of the magis 
 trate," said Mrs. Thomas. 
 
 " Because he is mentioned in one of 
 the earlier records as being present with 
 c his wife her father, a magistrate, " re- 
 244
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 plied Mrs. Bloomfield, with dignity. 
 " They drove fifty miles to attend the 
 convention that decided to prosecute the 
 Pequot War" 
 
 " I have established my sixteenth line 
 of descent," said Mrs. Maddux, with com 
 placency, " through the discovery of a 
 letter written just after the Pequot War. 
 It was quite an interesting document. It 
 begins, l Now, God be praised, the Pe- 
 quots be all dead : 
 
 "Well, they weren t all dead," inter 
 rupted Mrs. Thomas. 
 
 " They were completely crushed," said 
 Mrs. Bloomfield, coming to the rescue 
 with all the authority of a person who 
 could have crushed a few Pequots alone 
 and unaided. 
 
 " He ought to have said what he meant," 
 murmured Mrs. Thomas. 
 
 "The letter went on to say that the 
 
 writer had just seen c one of our hardest 
 
 hitters his son who had been visiting his 
 
 mother s brother l a deputy ; now I know 
 
 245
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 who that deputy must have been, and this 
 statement makes it certain that it is the 
 same one mentioned in a contemporary 
 journal as having married an ancestress 
 of my own." 
 
 " Oh, if they married by deputy," mur 
 mured the irreverent member. Mrs. 
 Maddux went serenely on : " I found the 
 record by the oddest chance. I was look 
 ing for an old valance, and I found it too, 
 a beautiful one, and a bellows also, 
 at the same place. We have a pair of 
 bellows in every room in the house we 
 had two open fireplaces put in on account 
 of having the bellows, and now I m look 
 ing for a Franklin stove but this pair 
 belonged to an intimate friend of Gover 
 nor Bradford of Massachusetts, and I 
 could n t resist them, so I got both," it 
 was as if the bellows were a horn of tri 
 umph, so swelled the paean of self-con 
 gratulation. " And I am not sorry, either, 
 though I must say they knew the worth 
 of them themselves. And just by an acci- 
 246
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 dent, while I was measuring the valance, 
 she happened to mention that my an 
 cestress s name was on the records in the 
 Aspetuck church " 
 
 " So you have examined the records of 
 the Aspetuck church ? " questioned a voice 
 that had not been raised before. Ruella 
 Pinquit withdrew her eyes from the con 
 templation of the summer fields stretching 
 before the open window on the sill of 
 which she leaned, and looked at her aunt. 
 There was a note of throbbing interest in 
 the question that vaguely caught her wan 
 dering attention. Her aunt sat at the toy 
 desk in the corner of the room, her rigid 
 figure upright, her nervous hands holding 
 the pencil with which she now and then 
 made a note on the writing-pad before 
 her. She was the secretary, and it was 
 for her, on such occasions as the present, 
 almost a painful puzzle to discriminate 
 between those matters which legitimately 
 belonged to the proceedings and those of 
 a more general and personal description, 
 247
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 which were apt to intrude themselves. So 
 intense was her application to this prob 
 lem that she rarely spoke ; but now that 
 she had asked her question, she looked 
 anxiously at Mrs. Maddux, awaiting her 
 reply. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I examined them carefully." 
 " Were they easily decipherable ? " 
 " Yes, by one accustomed to the style 
 of colonial records," said Mrs. Maddux 
 rather grandly. 
 
 " And bellowses," supplemented the 
 irreverent member. She did not smile, 
 and Mrs. Pinquit, who was presiding, did 
 not know whether she ought to be reproved 
 or not. 
 
 " Did you happen to notice the name 
 of Dunstable ? " asked Ruella s aunt. 
 Ruella turned her gaze idly back to the 
 fields whence breathed the scent of new- 
 mown hay. It was just that old Dun- 
 stable question again. It was always 
 cropping up, and Aunt Freewill was as 
 bad as grandfather. 
 
 248
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 " I can t say but now you speak of 
 it, I think I did spelled with a little 
 d\" 
 
 " Yes," breathed Miss Pinquit. 
 
 " Well, perhaps but to tell the truth 
 there didn t seem to me to be much in 
 the records except double j s with an/" 
 or two." 
 
 " Must have been all fuss," said irrev 
 erent Mrs. Maynew in Ruella s ear. 
 " There s my boy, come to take me home 
 in the cart. Go out and talk to him, 
 Ruella ; otherwise he 11 commit suicide 
 and I shall have no posterity to transmit 
 my insignia to." 
 
 Ruella looked up gratefully at Mrs. 
 Maynew, who stood beside her. She was 
 very much bored with the Colonial 
 Dames, but her mother made her attend 
 the committee meetings. It seemed to 
 her that life was largely made up of com 
 mittee meetings, particularly in warm 
 weather. In smiling assent she rose and 
 stepped out through the glass door. 
 249
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 " Where are you going, Ruella ? " 
 asked the presiding officer, with an accent 
 of complaint. 
 
 " I begged her to go out and talk to 
 Percy," said Mrs. Maynew, as she returned 
 to her seat. " You were saying that the 
 individual under consideration is eligible ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the chairman absent- 
 mindedly, and she sighed as she looked 
 after her daughter s retreating form ; but 
 Mrs. Maynew had twenty-one established 
 lines of descent from the Founders, and 
 there was not much use interfering with 
 her. 
 
 " Her chief claim rests on a constable," 
 said the thin voice, and the secretary made 
 a note. 
 
 u Well, if c a good man and true, 
 began Mrs. Maynew, " or only senseless 
 and fit " 
 
 " We must be very careful," interrupted 
 Mrs. Bloomfield thoughtfully, " and of 
 course, though descent is a great deal, it 
 is n t everything." 
 
 250
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 " No, not everything," said Mrs. Pin- 
 quit; and while the discussion was taken up 
 by the others, with another sigh she glanced 
 about her, and then out of the window at 
 Ruella, where she sat talking with Percy 
 Maynew. All was so successfully colo 
 nial, the house, the furniture, even her 
 own manner, all except Ruella. Ruella 
 was distinctly modern. She had jumped 
 into the dogcart and sat there bareheaded, 
 her golden hair rolled into an aggressive 
 knot with an exclamatory gold hairpin 
 thrust through it, her blue eyes blinking 
 a little in the dazzle. 
 
 " Don t scowl," said Percy. " You 
 are not so good-looking when you scowl." 
 
 " I am good-looking enough for you 
 any time," retorted Ruella. 
 
 It is to be feared not even their conver 
 sation was colonial. 
 
 One by one the Dames departed. Mrs. 
 Maynew took Ruella s place in the cart. 
 Mrs. Bloomfield sauntered slowly down 
 the driveway with the thin voice enunciat-
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 ing uncompromising doctrines in her 
 placid ears. 
 
 " Of course it s very hard to get round 
 a Signer," she assented as she turned the 
 corner. 
 
 " I should say so," the thin voice 
 drifted back to Mrs. Pinquit and her 
 sister-in-law as they watched them go. 
 
 " That s a beautiful miniature that Mrs. 
 Maddux wears," said the former, with a 
 throb of envy, " that miniature of her 
 great-grandmother." 
 
 11 How do you know it s her great- 
 grandmother ? " inquired Miss Pinquit 
 calmly. 
 
 " She said it came down in the family, 
 and " 
 
 " It came down in somebody s family, 
 no doubt, and no doubt it s somebody s 
 great-grandmother, and it s a very pretty 
 miniature ; but I think if Mrs. Maddux got 
 it in the line of descent at all, it came to 
 her collaterally oh, very collaterally in 
 deed," and with a smile of well-bred irony 
 252
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 Miss Pinquit turned away and ascended 
 the broad stairway with landings and a 
 colonial handrail. 
 
 There had been a time when Mrs. Pin- 
 quit had patronized and occasionally 
 ignored her husband s sister, but the Colo 
 nial Dames had changed all that. Unbroken 
 lines of descent, including an officer in the 
 colonial wars, three deputy governors, an 
 entertainer of Washington, two revolu 
 tionary generals, a distinguished divine, 
 and a naval commander of the War of 
 1812 had established their relations upon a 
 new basis, and Mrs. Pinquit now accepted 
 Miss Pinquit s dryness of speech with 
 a heart expanding in thankfulness that 
 Ruella s relations had a good right to it. 
 
 II 
 
 " FATHER," said Freewill, as she opened 
 
 the door of a room lined with bookcases 
 
 save where two broad windows admitted 
 
 253
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 the morning sun, " Mrs. Maddux says she 
 has seen the Aspetuck records and she 
 believes there is a mention of Dunstable." 
 
 An old man sitting by the writing-table 
 looked up quickly. His fine face, with its 
 prominent cheek bones, its sunken eyes, 
 and its intellectual forehead, gleamed with 
 a sudden eagerness. 
 
 " Is she sure ? " he asked. 
 
 " Sure, no," answered Freewill, as she 
 came into the room. " What woman was 
 ever sure of a matter of that kind unless it 
 was for her own interest ? Certainly not 
 Mrs. Maddux. But it is worth inves 
 tigating," she added, as she stood leaning 
 on the table and looking down on her 
 father. His thin hand, which trembled a 
 little, reached out and picked up a sheaf of 
 papers. 
 
 " Yes, yes, indeed it is," he said, hur 
 riedly. " It s there if it is anywhere, I am 
 sure of that." He singled out one from 
 the bundle of papers and unfolded it with 
 impatient but not rapid fingers. u Aspe- 
 254
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 tuck here it is," and he read aloud: 
 " This sixth son is said to have been estab 
 lished in the town of Aspetuck, than which 
 nothing can be imagined more unlikely, 
 but not by a finite knowledge to be over- 
 hastily and heedlessly pronounced impos 
 sible, since, in the Providence of God, 
 stranger things have come to pass, yea, 
 many a time and oft the merest accident 
 my finding it in that old correspondence, 
 Freewill," and Mr. Pinquit tapped it 
 nervously as he watched her face. She 
 nodded assent, an assent she had indicated 
 more than once before, but the words held 
 for her the same perennial interest that her 
 father found in them. " That writer," 
 went on Mr. Pinquit, " thinks it unlikely, 
 but I " and he pushed back his chair, 
 resting his hands on its arms, preparatory 
 to the effort of rising, still holding the 
 paper in his uncertain grasp, " I think it 
 likely, I think it highly probable, and in 
 one sense I know more than a contem 
 porary about the probabilities," and he rose 
 255
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 and moved restlessly across the room to 
 one of the bookcases. " I have all these to 
 help me," and he laid his hand on the shelf 
 before a row of books and pamphlets, half 
 indicating them, half supporting himself. 
 
 " I think you are right," said Freewill 
 briefly in answer to his look. 
 
 " We must go and see, my daughter," 
 said the frail old man, " we must go and 
 see." 
 
 " Yes, we must go as soon as you 
 feel equal to it. It will settle matters once 
 and for all." 
 
 " Yes, once and for all," he repeated, as 
 he took down one of the books and returned 
 with it, walking a little unsteadily, to his 
 former seat. Freewill s heart misgave her 
 as she saw the feverish excitement revealed 
 in the glance of his dim eyes as he turned 
 the leaves with fluttering eagerness. She 
 could bear another disappointment, if dis 
 appointment were in store for them, but 
 could her father s weakness bear even 
 success ? 
 
 256
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 His white, shrunken finger was tracing 
 the lines of the page before him. " c The 
 Chevalier Saint Agar, " he read again, " is 
 a unique figure of the time. The friend 
 of Cromwell and the serious sharer of his 
 weighty and God-fearing deliberations, yet 
 preserving the gay courtesy of an earlier 
 period, and an exquisite grace of gallantry, 
 inherited from a long line of noble forbears, 
 amid the stern rigors and cruel necessities 
 of a civil and religious war. A man on 
 whom women and children smiled, yet 
 whose indomitable conscience and sublime, 
 unerring singleness of purpose, the fanatics 
 of Barebone s Parliament and Cromwell s 
 Ironsides recognized and bowed before. 
 A man whose ancestral acres, spared alike 
 by Revolutionist and Royalist, yielded him 
 gold pieces in plenty, but who held them 
 lighter than motes of dust when weighed 
 against the smallest scruple of English 
 liberty. A man to whom Cromwell bared 
 his stormy soul, and who strengthened his 
 right hand, yet who found time to pity 
 17 257
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 Charles in his fallen folly, such was the 
 Chevalier Saint Agar and such," added 
 the old man solemnly, as he paused and 
 raised his eyes to Freewill, who still stood 
 leaning on the table, drinking in the slow 
 accents, " such, my daughter, I believe 
 was your ancestor and mine." 
 
 She came swiftly around to her father s 
 side and sank into a low chair. All her 
 doubts were quelled ; it was worth so much 
 to claim such a lineage it was worth a 
 thousand risks ! 
 
 " And I believe it too ! " she exclaimed. 
 " We must go and we must find the proof. 
 You have done so much only the record 
 of that one marriage, and the chain is 
 complete." 
 
 Already her father had turned to the next 
 page. " Of his sons, " he read aloud, 
 " l who lived in dignified retirement during 
 the reign of the second Charles, one was 
 welcomed with the stately respect that even 
 that frivolous monarch knew how to as 
 sume, when on rare occasions he appeared 
 258
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 in public, and that is not what I am 
 looking for. Oh, here i those who were 
 numbered among the American colonists 
 filled various stations of trust and honor, 
 being ever found among the foremost in 
 the worship of God and the freedom of 
 man. We see the name appearing now 
 and then in the chronicles of the earlier 
 period as that of a companion of Winthrop, 
 a remonstrant with Endicott, an opponent 
 of Sir Edmund Andros, and even as late as 
 that of a confidant of Samuel Adams ; but 
 here the family is lost sight of, and it is 
 believed that there are now no claimants 
 of this illustrious lineage. " The old man 
 rose, and, closing the book, returned it to its 
 place. It was as if the re-reading of the 
 record had been a draught of wine. His 
 step was firmer, his eye brighter, and his 
 voice more assured. 
 
 " So, the historian," he said, turning back 
 
 to his daughter, and standing erect, his 
 
 clean-cut, scholarly head with its white 
 
 hair outlined against the dusky reds and 
 
 2 59
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 browns of the volumes, " and it is for you 
 and me, Freewill, to prove him wrong in 
 one conclusion the last." 
 
 Ill 
 
 CONVERSATION about the Pinquit table 
 was apt to take a turn towards genealogy, 
 and that of to-day s luncheon received an 
 additional impetus in this direction from 
 the events of the morning. 
 
 " No one in Washington could ques 
 tion her right to be there," said Mrs. Pin- 
 quit confidently. " Her family is well 
 known, and its record what one might call 
 triumphant." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I think she is the one to go," 
 said Freewill. 
 
 " But Mrs. Maddux means to go," sug 
 gested Mrs. Pinquit. 
 
 " I guess they pretty much all mean 
 to go, don t they r " asked her husband 
 cheerfully. 
 
 260
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 His attitude of tolerant kindliness 
 towards colonial revivals was peculiarly 
 exasperating to his wife, and she failed to 
 see that he had a sturdy sort of ancestral 
 pride of his own. 
 
 " Who is Mrs. Maddux ? I don t re 
 member any Madduxes in our early rec 
 ords," said old Mr. Pinquit peevishly. 
 
 " Maddux is the best broker in town," 
 said his son. " Ought to be good stock." 
 This was more than Mr. Pinquit s family 
 could bear even from him except Ruella. 
 Ruella laughed. 
 
 " Guess you d better send Ruella to 
 Washington," he went on, willing to make 
 amends by a tardy interest. " What is the 
 matter with her being a delegate ? " 
 
 " I don t want to be a delegate," said 
 Ruella. 
 
 " I cannot understand Ruella," said 
 Mrs. Pinquit. " How a girl with a colonial 
 governor, a noted clergyman, two revolu 
 tionary officers, not to mention others, in 
 her immediate ancestry can be so indiffer- 
 261
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 ent, passes my comprehension." And 
 Mrs. Pinquit wondered for the hundredth 
 time if her child would have turned out 
 better if she had named her more judiciously. 
 Ruella was a combination of her father s 
 and mother s names Reuben and Ella. 
 It had seemed such a pretty idea at the 
 time before the colonial renaissance. 
 She realized with such hopeless keenness 
 now that the period for pretty ideas was 
 over. With a Freewill right in the family, 
 too how she had laughed at that name 
 when she first heard it, and thought it 
 dreadful ! Priscilla or Dorothy would have 
 done, but Freewill would have been infi 
 nitely better oh, it was too hard ! One 
 of her husband s most trying eccentricities 
 was that he liked Ruella s name as well 
 to-day as ever. 
 
 "Then there was the Pinquit that did 
 that plucky thing in New York when 
 Governor Fletcher " 
 
 " Reuben ! " cried Mrs. Pinquit, " he 
 was a Tory ! " 
 
 262
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 " Oh, to be sure," said her husband, who 
 was quite used to raking up the wrong 
 ancestor when he tried to be sym 
 pathetic. 
 
 " A time server ! A renegade ! " ex 
 claimed old Mr. Pinquit fiercely. 
 
 " Wait till we make out the line that 
 connects us with the Chevalier," said 
 Freewill. " Then even Ruella will be 
 glad to go." 
 
 " In that case Ruella would live to be 
 President," said Mrs. Pinquit solemnly, 
 " but " and she shook her head in far- 
 seeing negation. Not Caesar putting aside 
 the bauble of a crown could have been 
 more proudly forbearing. She refused 
 flatly to believe in the Chevalier. He was 
 too great a personage; she could not trifle 
 with such possibilities. 
 
 " Oh, the Chevalier," said Reuben Pin- 
 quit jovially. " How near have we got to 
 him now ? " He had no objection to the 
 Chevalier; he seemed to him rather an in 
 teresting old boy, though he privately be- 
 263
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 lieved that he hadn t been half the busy 
 man he was himself. 
 
 " Father and I are going to Aspetuck 
 next week, if he is able," answered Free 
 will, rising, " to look up the last clue." 
 
 " I hope you 11 find it, Aunt Freewill," 
 said Ruella lightly, as she pinned on 
 her sailor hat. " I like the Chevalier 
 myself." 
 
 Miss Pinquit accompanied her father to 
 his study. 
 
 " We must do it and do it alone, my 
 daughter," said he as he sank into a chair. 
 
 " Yes," she assented. They recognized 
 with equal clearness the difference between 
 their own emotion and the fleeting super 
 ficial interest of the others. Instead of an 
 idle or conventional curiosity, it wore the 
 sacredness of a passion. 
 
 Ruella wandered idly across the lane, 
 over a rustic bridge, and so down to a 
 meadow where they were making hay. 
 Seating herself at the base of a haystack 
 she made herself comfortable to its mani- 
 264
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 fest detriment. Throwing her head back 
 against the warm fragrance, she let her 
 eyes wander over the fields. How much 
 better this was than an excursion into the 
 musty Past ! How much better to be 
 alive than to be dead ! as dead as the 
 Chevalier ! The breeze, sweet with the 
 scent of the basking hay, blew her hair 
 about her forehead as she took her hat off 
 and threw it aside. Poor Aunt Freewill, 
 who had gone upstairs again with grand 
 father to look up genealogies, instead of 
 coming out into the fields ! Was there 
 ever a Chevalier, she wondered. It was a 
 pity that he should n t perch on their family 
 tree since they wanted so to find him there. 
 She believed it would half kill them, if they 
 did n t do so, this time. How frail grand 
 father looked, and how quickly he grew 
 excited ! Well, she wished she could 
 find a record for them it was pathetic 
 the way they had so little to make them 
 happy, boring themselves in grandfather s 
 study when it was like this outside. 
 265
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 Apparently Percy Maynew had been 
 well entertained in the morning, for he now 
 dropped down beside her in the hay. The 
 presence of this modern young man was 
 enlivening, it fitted perfectly the environ 
 ment, but nevertheless in Ruella s mind 
 the strain of sympathetic thoughtfulness 
 maintained itself. The warmer and sweeter 
 grew the golden afternoon, the more em 
 phatic grew the sense of her aunt s chilly 
 isolation, and the more positive her wish 
 that what seemed the one chance of happi 
 ness in this isolation might be realized. 
 
 " I m going up to Aspetuck to spend 
 Sunday," said Percy, as he stretched his 
 arms in luxuriant idleness over his head and 
 grasped a handful of the withered grass. 
 
 " Aspetuck ! " and Ruella looked around 
 at him with startled eyes. 
 
 " Be calm," he reassured her. " I did 
 not say the Klondike, I said Aspetuck, 
 not more than half a day s journey as the 
 crow flies or the schedule lies on a 
 branch road." 
 
 266
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 "Yes, I know, but what are you go 
 ing to Aspetuck for ? " 
 
 " To visit an aunt wants me up for 
 Sunday two girls." 
 
 u Aunt Freewill thinks they will find 
 the Chevalier at Aspetuck," said Ruella 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Don t know him," observed Percy 
 flippantly. "Does he happen to keep the 
 general store ? " 
 
 " And grandfather," proceeded Ruella 
 undisturbed. " It seems such a pity they 
 should n t find him." 
 
 " They 11 find him if he s there. He s 
 got to be in one of three houses or a barn." 
 
 " There s an old church, is n t there ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, very old church. Does the 
 Chevalier go to meeting of a week day ? " 
 
 " Listen, Percy," said Ruella. " Aunt 
 Freewill and grandfather don t care about 
 anything in life but finding their descent 
 from the Chevalier. You ve no idea. 
 It is n t like the rest of them. It s kind 
 of a religion. It s because they admire 
 267
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 him so and they don t care for things 
 like oh, like this ! " and she waved her 
 pretty arm in a comprehensive gesture. 
 " Aunt Freewill used to, but now she 
 goes off after clues with grandfather, and 
 they ve found some, but they don t find 
 the clue, you know, and it s such a dreary 
 life just going after clues ! " 
 
 Suddenly, from the vivid sympathy of 
 her tone he too caught the contrast between 
 an existence full of the warmth and color 
 of the Present, and one cold and cheerless 
 save for reflected gleams from a fading 
 Past. 
 
 " Well," he said as Ruella paused. 
 
 "And the last clue the very last 
 clue," she went on, " is at Aspetuck. At 
 least they believe it is there. Oh, Percy ! " 
 and Ruella sat up straight and clasped her 
 hands, " it will be such a pity if they don t 
 find it ! " 
 
 268
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 IV 
 
 IT was a week later that Freewill Pin- 
 quit and her father made their journey to 
 Aspetuck. They took it by easy stages 
 on account of the old man s probable 
 fatigue, spent the night at the nearest hos 
 telry, and drove over the next day. It was 
 a fresh, dewy morning, but the sun was 
 rapidly drying off the tangle along the 
 country road, which, however, still sparkled 
 in its shadier masses, the horse jogged com 
 fortably on, and old Mr. Pinquit lay back, 
 warmed by the sunshine, and expanding 
 in the atmosphere of hope, while Freewill 
 held the reins, her steadfast gaze now and 
 then scanning the horizon for the first 
 glimpse of Aspetuck steeple. 
 
 " To feel ourselves, through the blood 
 of an ancestor, near to that man of might, 
 that man of God, Oliver Cromwell ! " 
 exclaimed her father. " That man who 
 was made a judge and a divider, and 
 269
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 o 
 
 whom nor glory nor lust of power could 
 blind ! Oh, Freewill, it is a heritage 
 worth weariness, even tears." Freewill 
 murmured a quiet but ready assent. She 
 had grown up warmed by the flame of 
 her father s enthusiasm for the Round 
 heads, and above all for Cromwell, and 
 her life had been singularly free from 
 other devotions. 
 
 It was the haying season still. As they 
 passed through the softly rolling country, 
 all mankind seemed employed in healthful 
 unison with Mother Earth. The laborers 
 were hardy, tanned, broad-shouldered, and 
 strong-armed. Here they stood in the 
 midst of the falling golden-green grass, 
 swinging with the unconsciousness of rus 
 ticity the keen, rhythmic, sweeping scythe. 
 Further on, a group about a loaded haycart 
 stood as if posed for picturesqueness and 
 the joy of harvest. Every movement, 
 from the scythe to the pitchfork, regular, 
 purposeful, free. There was nothing arti 
 ficial, nothing cramped. The sun was 
 270
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 hot, and the fleecy clouds on the horizon 
 tended to swiftness and precision, for dan 
 ger may be in the air and destruction may 
 walk at noonday. Freewill found herself 
 watching with a novel pleasure the great 
 forkfuls of hay lifted, not with exhaust 
 ing effort, but with the ease of unwasted 
 force. The men raised their arms as if in 
 athletic sport, and steadily the fragrant 
 masses grew less in the field and greater 
 in the loft. The perfume of the dried 
 grass was in the nostrils of all breathing 
 things. They had left behind a noisy little 
 town where were the sound of wearing 
 machinery, the clank of whirring wheels, 
 but this was labor none the less, in a silence 
 like that of creation, not amid the din of 
 man s inventions. Sunshine and perfume 
 and strength were here and to spare, earth 
 gave of her increase, and man labored and 
 gathered into barns. 
 
 u He who mowed down disruption and 
 rebellion and tyranny with a consecrated 
 sword," her father was saying, " and before 
 271
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 whom the stubble of unrighteousness was 
 trodden out in blood," and with a guiding 
 hand upon the lax rein Freewill turned the 
 horse into Aspetuck Street. There was 
 really little on either side of the broad green 
 in the middle but the three houses and the 
 barn of Maynew s rapid sketch, and it was 
 a matter of no difficulty whatever to gain 
 entrance to the old church and a sight of 
 the records. With a rapidly beating heart 
 Freewill watched the custodian lay the 
 book down on the table within their reach. 
 There had been so many people lately to 
 examine the records that the request gave 
 him but a passing gleam of interest, and 
 he left them alone in the dim, bare little 
 church. Old Mr. Pinquit shivered a little 
 as he turned the leaves. Freewill was too 
 intent upon their object to even notice the 
 change from the glow without to the chilly 
 gloom within. The yellowed pages with 
 their cramped handwriting danced deco 
 rously before her eager gaze. 
 
 For what seemed an age they searched 
 272
 
 " BENDING FORWARD, SHE READ "
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 in vain. Once the name of Dunstable 
 flashed from the page in the marvellous 
 prominence that certain words and phrases 
 sometimes assume. But it led to noth 
 ing ; it seemed to relate to nothing. Free 
 will sank wearily back against the hard 
 seat. It was bitter, bitter. She looked 
 up at the dusty panes and the ungainly 
 pulpit she was living in the Past, and it 
 held nothing for her. She pressed her 
 hands over her eyes in miserable disap 
 pointment. An exclamation from her 
 father roused her. She was startled by 
 his pallor and the fire in his aged eyes. 
 Bending forward, she read the words 
 that lay under his tense finger. It 
 was the record of the marriage of Mal- 
 vina " dunstable " and Joseph Ranard. 
 Taken by itself it was very little ; fitted 
 into a familiar context it was every 
 thing. It was the long-sought-for confir 
 mation. The line connecting Freewill 
 Pinquit with the Chevalier Saint Agar 
 was complete. 
 
 18 273
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 They had no eyes to note an inde 
 finable difference between this page and 
 those near it, a variation of tint, a suf- 
 
 J O 
 
 gestion of newness which was not coun 
 teracted by the rough discolored edge or 
 the antiquated form of the letters. There 
 was no suspicion of an objectless deceit 
 to clarify their observation. Over and 
 over on their way home they dwelt on 
 every confirmatory detail of the outline 
 that had just received this keystone of 
 testimony. Mr. Pinquit reminded his 
 daughter where he had found this clue, 
 where that revelation had first dawned 
 upon him. He could now complete the 
 work of his life, the family genealogy, 
 which, with every refinement of typo 
 graphical elegance, he would soon give 
 to the world. Again and again Freewill 
 referred to the careful notes she had made, 
 and congratulated him on having held 
 back from print until the page should 
 sparkle with the name of the Chevalier 
 Saint Agar. Neither of them would have 
 274
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 found it easy to formulate a further wish 
 for temporal benefits. The elation of 
 his spirit, as well as her own felicity, 
 prevented Freewill from realizing her 
 father s exhaustion as they alighted from 
 their carriage, and also convinced the other 
 members of the family that the excursion 
 had been of actual physical benefit to him 
 as well as of supreme satisfaction. Ruella 
 watched them come, and a look of slight 
 apprehension vanished from her eyes, giv 
 ing place to one of gleaming pleasure as 
 she watched her grandfather s figure, more 
 erect than usual, pass up to his room, 
 followed by her Aunt Freewill, in whose 
 thin cheeks burned a pale flush of triumph. 
 But the apprehension came again. It was 
 the last time she watched him go up the 
 stairs, his wrinkled hand slipping slowly 
 along the colonial rail. The chill of the 
 country church, the fatigue, possibly the 
 relaxation of long-desired achievement, 
 combined to produce fatal illness. Up to 
 the last moment he labored transiently 
 275
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 and feverishly towards the completion of 
 his great work, and when he died he left 
 it as a sacred duty to be performed by his 
 daughter with a proud and tender enthusi 
 asm. Two or three days before his death 
 Ruella slipped quietly into his study to see 
 how he fared. Through the open door 
 leading into his bedroom she caught the 
 weak accents which had, nevertheless, a 
 strength of their own, the strength of an 
 impassioned fervor. 
 
 " My daughter," the old man said, 
 " you will not let our work be pushed 
 aside for other things ! It has cost me 
 such labor, such patience, such sacrifice 
 you will not forget this ? " 
 
 " No, father," answered Freewill. 
 
 " But they brought triumph at last 
 it is really so there can be no doubt 
 now Malvina Dunstable did marry 
 Joseph Ranard it was there ? I did 
 not dream it ? " he broke off to ask, with 
 sudden tremulous fear. 
 
 " Yes, yes, it was there." 
 276
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 " All that was necessary that one 
 entry you will find the proof on page 
 102 you know the book and you 
 will not fail I know you will not 
 the hard work is all done" and Ruella 
 slipped quietly out again. 
 
 Two weeks after her father s death 
 Freewill sat in his study, his books 
 about her, and before her a blank sheet 
 of paper waiting for the fine tracery of 
 her clear handwriting which should set 
 forth her claim to the blood of the Cheva 
 lier. She had laid on one side a sheet 
 which bore the statement of her father s 
 parentage, birth, marriage, and death, pre 
 pared by his own hands months before 
 all save the date at the very end, which 
 she had just filled in. Her black dress 
 increased the dignity of her pale, aristo 
 cratic features, and her eyes bore the 
 277
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 traces of tears, but there was resolution 
 in their glance, and even in the grasp of 
 the delicate hands, as, holding a note-book 
 open before her, she took up her pen to 
 write. 
 
 " Aunt Freewill," said Ruella, and Miss 
 Pinquit laid her pen down again. There 
 was a tremor in the ordinarily gay and 
 confident tones of the girl standing before 
 her that instantly called back her attention 
 from the precious Past. 
 
 " What is it, Ruella ? " she asked. 
 Ruella s eyes glanced over the table, the 
 note-book, the papers, and then to her 
 aunt s face. 
 
 " What what are you doing ? " she 
 asked with an effort. 
 
 " I am going to copy and amplify the 
 last notes made by your grandfather 
 those that prove the claim complete with 
 the link he and I found at Aspetuck. It 
 is a line to be proud of, Ruella," she 
 added, while she wondered at her niece s 
 loss of color. 
 
 278
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 "Oh, I don t know," said the girl 
 miserably, walking away to the window, 
 leaning her head on the sash and looking 
 out with unseeing eyes. " Oh, I don t 
 know," she said again, as she wandered 
 back. 
 
 " What do you mean, Ruella ? What 
 has happened ? " and her aunt turned to 
 face her. 
 
 " Oh, that is it nothing has hap 
 pened," she burst out, and then sank at 
 her aunt s feet in a flood of weeping. 
 
 " Nothing has happened," repeated 
 Freewill in utter perplexity. 
 
 " No," sobbed Ruella. " There was 
 not anything on the records of that church 
 in Aspetuck. Percy Maynew put it there. 
 I begged him to. He did n t want to 
 exactly, but I made him. I told him 
 it was only a question of pleasing you 
 and and grandfather. I did n t know 
 it made so much difference. I just 
 thought it would be something you d 
 279
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 like. And now you re going to put 
 it in a book. He made me promise to 
 tell you. And I m so sorry I m so 
 sorry ! " 
 
 Miss Pinquit looked down at the bent 
 head and then at the books and pamphlets. 
 Mechanically she leaned forward and 
 closed the note-book, and pushed the 
 blank paper away. There was no record 
 in the Aspetuck church ; then there was 
 no Dunstable-Ranard marriage, and no 
 connection with the Chevalier Saint Agar, 
 and to that time of England s splendor 
 and the great protectorate, she, Freewill 
 Pinquit, and her father had nothing to say. 
 Her eyes fell on the statement of her 
 father s death. " Died " two weeks 
 ago. Thank God for that. Ruella raised 
 her tear-stained face. 
 
 u I am so sorry," she repeated. " And 
 I did it to please you that was the only 
 reason. I did n t care a bit about it 
 for myself. But it seemed so hard that
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 you should be disappointed again. It was 
 just to please you." 
 
 Freewill regarded the girl with a bitter 
 little smile. How like her mother she 
 was, after all not much Pinquit about 
 her. She drew her dress away and, in 
 her turn, walked across the room, leaving 
 Ruella a wretched little heap on the floor. 
 She went to the bookcase and laid her 
 hand, as her father had laid his, on the 
 shelf before the row of books that treated 
 of the period they both loved. Slowly 
 she read the titles one by one ; she even 
 took one down and opened it the page 
 had lost that gleam that had seemed to 
 reflect itself in her father s eyes that 
 gleam from the stainless glory of the 
 Chevalier Saint Agar. It was but a dry 
 record, after all. She closed the volume 
 and turned back to her niece. 
 
 u It was very cleverly done," she 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, I know it," wailed Ruella. Miss 
 281
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 Pinquit did not smile this time, neither 
 did she go back to where she waited. 
 Instead, she went on to the window and 
 opened it. What a petty deceit it had 
 been ! What a bit of schoolgirl and 
 schoolboy trickery ! and yet it had 
 succeeded. It had been a torch to her 
 father s sacred enthusiasm, a crown to 
 her long and patient labor. The stern 
 love of truth that was a part of her Puri 
 tan inheritance flamed up against the lie, 
 the keen strength of her habit of thought 
 spurned its futility. It were as well for 
 Ruella not to disdain her Tory ancestor. 
 She too was a renegade from the family 
 religion. Without, it was just such an 
 other day as that in which they had driven 
 to Aspetuck. The summer sparkled and 
 shimmered in the pulsing activities of a 
 beautiful present. Suddenly, as she heard 
 Ruella crying quietly behind her, she felt, 
 rather than saw, her kinship to it, and her 
 utter lack of comprehension of anything 
 282
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 colder, subtler, and retrospective. She 
 came back to Ruella and stood beside her 
 a moment, and then sat down again and 
 drew one of her hands away from before 
 her face. 
 
 " Oh, well," she said, with a certain 
 indifference, " he never knew, and it did 
 make him happy, and he may have met 
 the Chevalier before this who knows ? 
 and have heard even better things than 
 this that you planned to please us." 
 
 " But you, Aunt Freewill ! " cried 
 Ruella. " But you ! Will you forgive 
 me ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Pinquit. " I forgive 
 you. I am glad you did not let me pub 
 lish it," and she glanced at the pen and 
 paper with an odd feeling of reminiscence. 
 " Perhaps I needed the discipline," she 
 added dryly. Ruella threw her arms 
 around her neck. 
 
 " You don t need anything ! " she ex 
 claimed. "And all the Chevaliers Saint 
 283
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 Agar in the world could n t make you any 
 better ! " 
 
 Miss Pinquit winced a little as she 
 gently withdrew from her niece s impul 
 sive embrace the wound was too recent 
 to bear touching. 
 
 After Ruella had gone, she sat a few 
 moments in quiet thought, and then she 
 selected from the material about her 
 several sheets of memoranda, tore out a 
 leaf from one and another note-book, 
 read over some pages of her father s trem 
 ulous but distinct handwriting, and with 
 a sigh added them to the rest. Striking 
 a match she knelt down before the empty 
 summer hearth. As the flame caught one 
 bit of paper after another, she watched 
 them flash, curl, smoulder, and at last fall 
 into a few gray ashes. Had a different 
 woman been kneeling there and the ashes 
 been those of letters once warm with a 
 lover s devotion, perhaps her heart would 
 have known no sharper pang than that 
 284
 
 The Chevalier Saint Agar 
 
 which pierced Freewill Pinquit s soul as 
 she saw vanish into nothingness these last 
 evidences of a grand passion, the only 
 records of her descent from the Chevalier 
 Saint Agar. 
 
 285
 
 Annie Eliof s Stories 
 
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 And Other Stories 
 
 By ANNIE ELIOT TRUMBULL 
 
 One volume, I2mo, cloth 
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 They are New England stories, and exhibit a delicate 
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 The volume is welcome for the terse and interesting way 
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 The book is a charming one, and is written in a most 
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