THE 
 
 LEGATEE 
 
 ALICE 
 
 PRESCOTT 
 
 SMITH 
 

THE LEGATEE 
 
THE LEGATEE 
 
 By ALICE PKESCOTT SMITH 
 
 ;jBliA~ir 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1903 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY ALICE PRESCOTT SMITH 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published March, igoj 
 
TO MY 
 MOTHER AND FATHER 
 
 O 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. THE LEGACY . 1 
 
 II. BEHIND THE RED GERANIUMS .... 13 
 
 III. " WHAT DOTH IT PROFIT ? " . . . . 24 
 
 IV. THE HOUSE ON THE BLUFF .... 31 
 V. THE GAME OF CHESS 41 
 
 VI. WHILE THE SUN SHONE 56 
 
 VII. THE POT OF GOLD 67 
 
 VIII. A BRIDGE is CROSSED 80 
 
 IX. WHILE THE PENDULUM WAS SWINGING . 92 
 
 X. MISTRESS QUIXOTE 99 
 
 XL THE INITIAL MOVE 107 
 
 XII. WHERE JESSIE REIGNED 120 
 
 XIII. THE KERMESS 128 
 
 XIV. AN AWAKENING 139 
 
 XV. " NEED A BODY CRY ?" .... 149 
 
 XVI. THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA . . .158 
 
 XVII. A WINTER BLOSSOMING .... 171 
 
 XVIII. THE GATE is BARRED 180 
 
 XIX. AN IMPULSE ? 186 
 
 XX. THE MASK OF DUTY 195 
 
 XXI. THE PROMISE 203 
 
 XXII. ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL . . . . 217 
 
 XXIII. MR. PROCTOR SPEAKS 234 
 
 XXIV. NEW FACETS 245 
 
 XXV. CROSS-CURRENTS "258 
 
 XXVI. DAY BY DAY 268 
 
 XXVII. THE WAITING 280 
 
 XXVIII. THE COMING 292 
 
 XXIX. THE RECOMPENSE ...... 301 
 
 XXX. THE MEASURE 305 
 
 XXXI. THE PROMISE OF THE COVENANT . . 313 
 
 XXXII. STEWARDS OF THE MYSTERIES .... 319 
 
THE LEGATEE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE LEGACY 
 " Rescue the perishing, care for the dying, " 
 
 rose the voices, Karen Torstenson s above them all., 
 sweetly insistent and compelling; 
 
 " Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave. " 
 
 Karen s voice, which had held the pitying ca 
 dence of a mother s croon, rose now in triumphant 
 acclaim, and the choir followed blindly, dragging 
 with jubilant abandon several notes behind the 
 creaking cabinet organ. Karen s leadership was 
 proved and trusted ; the organ was an innovation, 
 and the end of its probation was not yet. 
 
 The Wilsonport Methodist Church was crowded, 
 despite the rain slapping against the windows, and 
 the wind and fog rushing in from Lake Michigan. 
 It was Olive Black s wedding day, and weddings 
 like this were events in Wilsonport. 
 
 " Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter, 
 Feelings lie buried that grace can restore. " 
 
 pleaded the chorus as the bridal party dropped 
 
2 THE LEGATEE 
 
 their wet wraps, and came awkwardly up the aisle. 
 But one face in the audience smiled. Not that 
 the subtleties of humor were necessarily unknown 
 in Wilsonport, but there was little that called for 
 laughter in the fact that the organist could play 
 only the hymns that she knew. 
 
 The two young people, stumbling noisily on the 
 uncarpeted floor, stopped in front of the bare box 
 pulpit where the clergyman stood waiting. There 
 was but one touch of adornment in the room, 
 " Feed my Lambs." The text, its letters made of 
 yellowing cedar twigs, formed a half circle back 
 of the clergyman s head a halo that might well 
 have disquieted his congregation, for the winds of 
 many months had robbed the sentence of its final 
 " s," so that the mandate read with definite and 
 unsoftened protest, a suggestive frame for the 
 pinched face below. 
 
 In the rear of the room Kobert Proctor stood 
 watching observantly. His isolation, his manner, 
 the very seams of his coat, bespoke him an alien ; 
 the unconscious amusement in his eyes marked 
 him yet more as one. But apart from the fleet 
 ing thought of the moment, he was not amused. 
 He was the new owner of the Wilsonport Lumber 
 Company s mill, and this was his superintendent s 
 wedding ; yet though he had come to Wilsonport 
 only the day before, no glance now made him wel 
 come. Indeed, the only look that had shown re 
 cognition of his presence had held rebuke. His 
 smile at the wail of the wedding march had been 
 detected, and the scorn in the gray eyes that had 
 
THE LEGACY 3 
 
 fronted his was unpleasant to remember. That 
 the eyes belonged to one of the most youthful of 
 the congregation, a young girl with a thin eager 
 face and flying hair, did not affect his point of 
 view. He was self-convicted of his rudeness. 
 
 " Do you, Olive, take this man " The cler 
 gyman s voice was searching, for he had seen 
 many go away from his presence man and wife, 
 and they had not always gone to happiness ; but 
 the girl s " I do " thrilled confident and joyous. 
 The challenge of her happiness sobered the lis 
 teners. Fate punished those who dared to claim 
 such perfect joy. 
 
 The service was over, and again came Karen s 
 voice. Clarion clear it sounded in the hushed 
 room, 
 
 " He leadeth me ! Oh, blessed thought, 
 
 Oh, Words with heavenly comfort fraught ! " 
 
 The people needed no organ now, they heeded 
 none, and they arose and sang ; sang with rough, 
 uneven voices ; sang out of the gray monotony of 
 tired hearts, 
 
 " * Whate er I do, where er I be, 
 
 Still t is God s hand that leadeth me. " 
 
 Lines faded in tense faces, and eyes dimmed. 
 They needed leading. For most of them life was 
 tangled and perplexing, crowded with care. But 
 for the time they had forgotten, and so they sang. 
 They sang for Olive, and for her husband, George 
 Cole. These two belonged to Wilsonport as did 
 the great pines ; therefore the people loved them. 
 
4 THE LEGATEE 
 
 and crowding about them now, they tried to tell 
 them so. 
 
 There were none to crowd toward Mr. Proctor. 
 It was an untried sensation for this man to find 
 himself upon the fringe of events, and to his sur 
 prised chagrin the feeling annoyed him. He 
 turned to look again at the girl who had resented 
 his smile, but she had disappeared. He remem 
 bered that she had worn a red cap. He would 
 know her by that, he thought, and speak to her if 
 occasion offered. The justice of her arraignment 
 still rankled. 
 
 " * He leadeth me, He leadeth me ! " 
 
 The refrain, carrying the vibrant sweetness of 
 Karen s voice, stayed in his ears, and he looked 
 across the room to where she stood, taller than the 
 women around her, the yellow masses of her hair 
 glinting even in the dull light. 
 
 " A viking princess," he said under his breath, 
 " and what a voice ! " But the princess was not 
 for him. There was none of it for him as yet 
 and he turned away into the rain. The rap 
 ture in the bride s face, the sense of homely joys 
 and comradeship that had ennobled the crude in 
 congruities of the day, passed him by. He was 
 outside it all. 
 
 He walked toward his mill, with dogged dis 
 comfort ignoring the rain. The village looked de 
 serted, and its small, unpainted houses stood drip 
 ping and lonely among the blackened stumps of 
 the clearing. Before him, Lake Michigan, a roll- 
 
THE LEGACY 5 
 
 ing mass of sullen gray, merged without horizon 
 line into the leaden sky above. Behind, so near 
 that the scattered houses of the settlement seemed 
 clinging to the narrow beach for refuge, lay the 
 forest, black and forbidding in the storm. 
 
 The man threw back his head impatiently. He 
 had not supposed that his moods were dependent 
 either on the barometer or on the liking of the 
 people about him. Manifestly his coming had 
 bred constraint. He must conquer that. In all 
 probability, years of his life lay before him in this 
 village, and since he could not occupy a pinnacle 
 indefinitely, it behooved him to dismount while he 
 could accomplish the descent with grace. 
 
 The mill was deserted in honor of the super 
 intendent s wedding, and Mr. Proctor walked 
 through its reverberating passages with a sense of 
 rising independence. His own mill, his own ma 
 chinery ! Pride of ownership had worked into 
 his consciousness but slowly ; it came now with an 
 alluring flavor. The long lines of belting, the 
 glitter of the great saws, gave him an exultant 
 sense of mastery. Powerful as they were, their 
 power was yet his, his to control. He smiled as 
 he realized how these material properties com 
 forted his vanity. It was not, at this moment, 
 that they represented money, but that they were 
 all that needed him, that claimed him, in this alien 
 land. 
 
 He walked to the top of the log-slide, and 
 looked out. The mill was on the beach, and the 
 shallow crescent of the bay lay before him. The 
 
6 THE LEGATEE 
 
 rain had ceased, but the wind blew furiously, and 
 the surf rolled in with a boom of crashing break 
 ers. The sand was as empty of life as a desert, 
 and the man looked at it with longing. The elec 
 tricity of the wind was in his blood. What a 
 track that beach would make ! In a moment he 
 was on it, the wet sand springing under his run 
 ning feet. Convention snatched at him fiercely as 
 he ran, but he threw her off, and sped with bound 
 ing pulse. Should he be seen why, he was run 
 ning to the pier ! It was his pier, and in danger 
 from the storm ! therefore he ran. That would do 
 as explanation were he catechised. There was that 
 in the air of Wilsonport that taught him the ever- 
 boding imminence of catechism. 
 
 As he reached the pier, his pace slackened. 
 Two figures were racing toward him, balancing 
 surely on the pier s shaking timbers. What mat 
 ter if they had seen him ? They, too, were run 
 ning, and doing it right well. He watched them 
 with approval. They were boy ami girl, and the 
 girl wore a red cap. It was, he could see, his red- 
 capped critic of the wedding. Here was his op 
 portunity. 
 
 The runners were absorbed, and did not see Mr. 
 Proctor. The girl was running with tight-pressed 
 lips ; she was losing, but not, it was plain, for lack 
 of effort. She stopped at the end of the pier, her 
 hand pressed to her side, her forehead clearing. 
 
 " You Ve won, Adrien," there was a some 
 what disproportionate admiration in her voice, 
 " but Let s try it again from here to the mill." 
 
THE LEGACY 7 
 
 She was starting without waiting for reply when 
 she saw Mr. Proctor. Her arrested breath showed 
 her surprise. 
 
 Mr. Proctor stepped forward, but the kindly 
 greeting that he had in mind was not forthcoming. 
 The girl was older than he had thought, and her 
 gray eyes, again unfriendly and reproving, scat 
 tered speech. What was the meaning of all this 
 fiery defiance ? 
 
 She turned to her companion, 
 
 " There s father, Adrien. I 11 leave you now, 
 and go home with him." She vanished even with 
 her words, and Mr. Proctor smiled after her. 
 Evidently to think was to act with this whirlwind 
 apparition. 
 
 The boy did not share the man s smile. The 
 portentous dignity that strives to hide embarrass 
 ment wrapped him in sombre folds. 
 
 " A great storm, is n t it ? " the man said with 
 insistent cheerfulness. This gloom of reserve 
 piqued his curiosity. 
 
 " Yes, it is a grand storm. I am just going." 
 The boy spoke with punctiliously clear enuncia 
 tion, yet a slight accent clung to his carefully 
 chosen words. 
 
 The man turned. " I 11 walk with you. I am 
 a stranger here. I came " 
 
 " You came yesterday on the Lurline, Mr. Proc 
 tor. Everybody in town knows that." 
 
 The man s eyebrows shifted a shade from the 
 horizontal. " Fame, verily ! I should n t have 
 suspected it from my reception this afternoon. 
 And your name ? " 
 
8 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The boy was silent a moment, his grave young 
 face set with the pallid fixity of ivory. " Adrien 
 Lauzeone," he said with grudging deliberation. 
 " My father is Xavier Lauzeone. He keeps the 
 hotel The Farmer s Friend/ It s a saloon, 
 too," he added defiantly. 
 
 " I remember. I was told that my men stayed 
 there some of them. I did n t see you at the 
 wedding." 
 
 The boy s face melted to curving lines. This 
 was the way men talked to equals. Perhaps the 
 " Farmer s Friend " was not a stigma after all. 
 
 " How was the wedding ? " he asked. " Was 
 the church full?" 
 
 " Yes, crowded. You were not there ? r 
 
 " I am a Catholic." The boy s tone held a touch 
 of impatience. It was plain that this prosperous 
 outsider had much to learn. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mr. Proctor, vaguely aware of 
 quicksands. " But your friend was there. Who 
 is she, and who is your Norse princess ? I wish 
 that you would tell me about the people here. The 
 singer this afternoon was a very daughter of the 
 Eddas, who " - 
 
 " I don t understand what you re saying," in 
 terrupted the boy, his hurried speech suggested 
 that he wished a change of subject, " but I will 
 some day. No one here would understand you 
 no one but Katherine Edmister. Katherine talks 
 the same way and Dr. Edmister, too." 
 
 " I doubt that I understood myself," said Proc 
 tor lightly. There was no need to emphasize his 
 
THE LEGACY 9 
 
 awkwardness by explanation. " In my mother 
 tongue, then, who was the tall girl who sang ? She 
 had a voice like dripping honey." 
 
 " Dripping honey," pondered the boy. " That ? s 
 just like Karen. You must know Karen Torsten- 
 son ; they keep the store." 
 
 "The store?" Yes, he recalled it. " Dry 
 Goods and General Merchandise. Ole Torsten- 
 son. It was the mill store, and he had been 
 there that morning. He felt a gentle glow of plea 
 sure that he was connected, even remotely, with its 
 display of plough and crockery, if those utensils 
 ministered to the well-being of the day s goddess. 
 
 Young Lauzeone looked curious, and the man 
 was pricked from his reverie by the pressing neces 
 sity of sustaining the conversation. 
 
 " Who was the lamb ? " he ventured wildly. It 
 was difficult to keep his auditor in mind, when his 
 thoughts were struggling with chaotic impressions 
 of the grimy interior of Ole Torstenson s store. 
 
 "The lamb?" 
 
 " The clergyman, I mean. Protestants call them 
 lambs sometimes," he added with ready mendacity. 
 " Never mind, I m not so much interested in him. 
 Who was it that you said talked as I do ? " 
 
 The boy s eyes shifted. He looked embarrassed. 
 
 " I guess you mean Dr. Edmister," he said eva 
 sively. " He s the doctor here. He lives up on 
 the bluff." 
 
 " In the big log house hanging over the water ? " 
 
 " He wanted it made of logs," the boy protested. 
 " He s rich enough to have a better house. He 
 
10 THE LEGATEE 
 
 likes log houses." The hopelessness of impressing 
 his auditor with so palpable an absurdity saddened 
 his tone. 
 
 " Does he ? " Here, then, was something that 
 augured promise for the future, and Mr. Proctor 
 looked expectantly down the curve of the beach to 
 where a brown lichen of a house clung to the cliff 
 that tipped the southern horn of the harbor s cres 
 cent. "And his wife?" 
 
 The wind tossed the black strands of the boy s 
 hair into his eyes. " He has n t any wife. She s 
 dead. I said his girl his daughter, I mean," 
 he corrected. " Mrs. Green keeps house for him 
 that is, her and Ephraim does. Ephraim s her 
 husband." 
 
 They had reached the office door of the mill, and 
 Mr. Proctor .stopped and studied the figure before 
 him. 
 
 " It s too windy to go farther now," he said, 
 " but come to see me. I live in the house that was 
 my uncle s back of the lumber piles. No wonder 
 that you didn t understand my stupidly long words. 
 But I ve a book that will tell you what I was talk 
 ing about. Would you like to read it ? " 
 
 The boy s pleasure appeared in his eyes, to van 
 ish swiftly. He drew back. 
 
 " The mill is yours now? " he asked. 
 
 The tone brought Mr. Proctor s wandering 
 glance to earth. " Yes, the mill is mine." It 
 was the tone of the conscious superior, and he 
 amended it. " My uncle, who owned the mill, is 
 dead, you know. I am his heir." 
 
THE LEGACY 11 
 
 "The men say that it s the same thing," the 
 boy pursued. " They don t see any difference." 
 
 " A reincarnation, am I ? Well, what of it ? " 
 
 Again the boy s eyes shifted. " Did you have 
 slaves ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor smiled. The lad was developing 
 surprises. " Naturally," he said. " Did my bio 
 graphers omit to state that I was from Virginia ? " 
 
 The boy turned away. His stubborn mouth 
 showed that he could understand the tolerant 
 amusement that he was helpless to resent. 
 
 " I hope you 11 come for the book, Adrien ? " 
 Mr. Proctor went on. " I ve no slaves now, I as 
 sure you, whatever my shameful past may have 
 been." His smile was whimsical, but he held out 
 his hand, and the boy took it shyly. 
 
 " I d like to come," answered the boy. " I want 
 to study everything. I mean to know as much as 
 Kather as much as anybody. I don t work in 
 your mill, so I don t see what the men can do, even 
 if I do come to see you. The war is over, anyway. 
 The men say " 
 
 " The men say ? " Mr. Proctor picked up the 
 broken thread only to drop it. It was not to his 
 mind to discuss his workmen and their vagaries 
 with this boy. " Come and get the book, then. 
 Good-by." 
 
 Adrien hesitated. " You you asked me who 
 who it was that was running. But I did n t tell 
 you because It was Katherine Edmister, the 
 one I told you about. There she is ; and that s 
 her father." 
 
12 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Mr. Proctor s glance traveled with the boy s 
 gesture. The red cap was going up the village 
 street, dancing like a wind-blown leaf in the wake 
 of a tall man. 
 
 Dr. Edmister and his daughter! Mr. Proctor 
 looked after them with meditative anticipation. 
 Yet if the father proved as stormy as the daughter 
 had shown herself to be He shook his head 
 at the memory as he unlocked his office door. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 BEHIND THE BED GERANIUMS 
 
 JESSIE applied her eye to knowledge at the 
 crack of Mr. Proctor s study door. Jessie was a 
 legacy not catalogued, as were the mill and 
 other properties, but none the less an inheritance. 
 
 She was a Norwegian woman who had kept Mr. 
 Oliver Proctor s house during his life in Wilson- 
 port ; she would continue to keep it for his nephew. 
 The phrase, which defined the situation, was her 
 own. To be a man s servant was one thing, to 
 keep his house, another ; she drew the distinction 
 with nicety of line. To keep a house demanded 
 more than skill in cooking though that was hers. 
 The habits of the family were a charge to keep, and 
 she spared no labor in reforming them. She was 
 studying them now upon her knees, and the line of 
 her eyebrows spoke dissatisfaction. 
 
 " Your uncle was always prompt to meals," she 
 chanted at length. Her voice took the village into 
 confidence. 
 
 Mr. Proctor laid down his pen without surprise. 
 A month of Wilsonport and Jessie had inured him 
 to voices which spoke from key -holes and window 
 casings. "Come in, Jessie," he called. "Is it 
 supper time ? " 
 
14 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Jessie materialized with confusing promptness. 
 
 " You said that you was going away to supper," 
 she said. " You told me that you was invited to 
 George Cole s." Her tone implied rooted unbe 
 lief of his intentions. 
 
 Mr. Proctor looked at his watch. "I am. 
 And it s almost six now." He turned from his 
 papers with a smile. " So my uncle was prompt, 
 was he ? " 
 
 Jessie nodded. Her brown face, despite its 
 wrinkles, repelled the suggestion of age. She 
 seemed as superior to the weakness born of time as 
 if she were the gnarled tree-trunk she resembled. 
 " T ain t that he was prompt when they asked 
 him," she supplemented. "They never asked 
 him." 
 
 " Asked him ? " 
 
 " To supper." She nodded again, each move 
 ment pregnant with meaning. " I did n t suppose 
 they d ask you." There was veiled pride in the 
 admission, and she hastened to cover it. " They ve 
 been long enough making up their minds to do it, 
 anyway. You ve been here a month to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Proctor s glance had returned to his papers. 
 " Did n t they like my uncle ? " he asked with 
 tolerant civility and an absent mind. 
 
 Jessie s eyes snapped. " Hated him like pizen. 
 He never listened to what folks said, either any 
 more than you do. Smiling ain t listening, let 
 me tell you." She turned an indignant back, and 
 started toward the kitchen, then stopped. " They 
 called your uncle Copperhead, " she delivered 
 
BEHIND THE RED GERANIUMS 15 
 
 her postscript as if it were a missile, " and 
 George Cole s gone to housekeeping in the house 
 with the red geraniums in the window." 
 
 Mr. Proctor looked after her, live interest 
 quickening his eyes. " Copperhead ! " he med 
 itated. " That s what the boys called me to-day. 
 So Jessie s not the only legacy not mentioned in 
 the will." He shrugged his shoulders, but his lips 
 curved upwards, and the smile stayed with him in 
 his walk across the sand. It was somewhat ghoul 
 ish, this wearing of a dead man s mantle, but it 
 had its compensations. Since his surroundings 
 held no companionship, it was a boon that they 
 could furnish amusement, and he would welcome 
 novelty in any guise. 
 
 Behind the red geraniums, Mrs. Cole extended 
 a shy hand in welcome. 
 
 " George will be in pretty soon," she explained. 
 " He could n t come till the hands left the mill, and 
 he s just cleaning himself up now." 
 
 The cleaning up disclosed the host in his wed 
 ding broadcloth, grave and unabashed. His un 
 smiling face turned often to his wife with evident 
 affection, but his words were austerely few, and 
 supper was eaten in the silence which a rite de 
 mands. Mr. Proctor s thoughts canvassed the 
 known world for dialogue, but each essay failed 
 to evoke more than a monosyllable. The social 
 experience of years seemed threatened with ship 
 wreck when a scratch at the kitchen door brought 
 the hostess to her feet. 
 
 " That sounds like Chevalier," she cried with re- 
 
16 THE LEGATEE 
 
 lief. " Katherine must be out there. I 11 call 
 her in to supper." 
 
 Mrs. Cole opened the door, and a small dog 
 bounded in with a delighted whine, pawing, with 
 ingratiating impartiality, at the people and chairs 
 alike. 
 
 " Send him out, Olive," came a clear voice. 
 " Chevalier understood that the Panjandrum was 
 coming to tea, and he s after the sacrificial calf. 
 He s always pushing himself socially." 
 
 Silence chilled the table, while a whispered con 
 sultation took place behind the door. " I must 
 come in and explain," the voice went on, clearer 
 and more expostulatory. " Indeed I must, Olive. 
 No, I must come now." 
 
 Katherine Edmister herself followed the voice, 
 and Mr. Proctor s face showed sudden interest. 
 He had not seen her since the day of the wedding, 
 and the memory of her look quickened his curios 
 ity. If her tongue matched her eyes there would 
 be no lack of conversation now. 
 
 " Miss Edmister, let me make you acquainted ; 
 this is Mr. Proctor," said Mrs. Cole with slow 
 formality. Introductions were blessedly infrequent 
 in Wilsonport, and the form limped slightly on 
 the rare occasions of its appearance. 
 
 The geographical restraints imposed by chair 
 and table fettered Mr. Proctor s bow, though he 
 improved the limited area offered him, but the girl 
 came forward, and held out a brown hand. Her 
 weapons seemed sheathed. Her anger had appar 
 ently been a childish impulse, soon forgotten. 
 
BEHIND THE RED GERANIUMS 17 
 
 " I m afraid that you heard me call you the 
 Panjandrum," she began at once. " I am sorry. 
 I supposed that you were in the other room. I 
 did n t mean to be unpleasant. Indeed I did n t. 
 But, you see, we have so little to talk about here ! 
 I really meant," her wide firm mouth twitched 
 slightly at the corners, " to be complimentary." 
 
 Her look was candid as a child s. In truth she 
 seemed little more than one, with her slight figure 
 and flying hair, and Mr. Proctor showed his frank 
 amusement. 
 
 " If I bury the Panjandrum, will you put the 
 lamb in the same grave ? " he hazarded. " I know 
 that you saw me laugh at the wedding." 
 
 The girl s look did not respond. She turned 
 with a touch of hauteur that added years to her 
 apparent age. " I must go, Olive," she began ab 
 ruptly, and walked toward the door, shaking her 
 head in smiling refusal of Mrs. Cole s appeals. 
 
 Mr. Cole pushed back his plate. " I want you 
 to stay, Katherine," he said with an air of finality. 
 
 The girl stopped instantly, though her mouth 
 was mutinous. "I ve had my supper," she de 
 murred, " and father will worry." 
 
 " I 11 take you home," Mr. Cole went on with 
 the same note of command, " and we can send 
 word to your father when Heinrich goes up with 
 the milk." 
 
 " Very well," said Katherine with instant sub 
 mission. She drew a chair to the table, and Mr. 
 Cole watched her, an air of responsibility temper 
 ing his evident pride. 
 
18 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " You re old enough to put your hair up, Kath- 
 erine," he chided. " Mr. Proctor thinks that 
 you re a little girl." 
 
 The girl flushed, and looked at Mr. Proctor de 
 fensively. " I am not very old," she protested. 
 " Karen is so dignified that you expect too much 
 from me." She seemed less annoyed at the per 
 sonality than anxious to cover the abruptness of 
 Mr. Cole s speech. She turned to Mr. Proctor. 
 " Do you know Karen Torstenson ? " Her eyes 
 lighted at the name. 
 
 It was the man s turn to feel confused. He had 
 not realized till that moment that Miss Torstenson 
 had been in his thoughts. 
 
 " Miss Karen is the she sings, does n t she ? " 
 
 " Karen is a child of God," asserted Mr. Cole. 
 "Yes, she sings in the choir. You ought to know 
 her. I 11 get her now, and we can have a sing." 
 
 His wife nodded placid approval. " Get Paul 
 Livingstone to come too," she called after him, 
 "and ask him to bring his Precious Jewels. 
 
 Mr. Proctor ventured a smile. " Does he wear 
 them the jewels ? " He turned toward Kather- 
 ine, but her grave face reduced jesting to imper 
 tinence. 
 
 Mrs. Cole s light laugh expressed less of amuse 
 ment than of comfortable acquiescence. " It s 
 a singing book," she conscientiously explained. 
 " Precious Jewels is just its name. I wanted 
 Paul Livingstone to bring it along with him. Paul 
 Livingstone s our teacher." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mr. Proctor comprehensively and 
 
BEHIND THE RED GERANIUMS 19 
 
 with meekness, oppressed by Katherine s deliberate 
 scrutiny. He had no words to add, for they were 
 entering the front room, and the gloom of that 
 formal apartment fell blightingly upon his spirit. 
 All his standards were at fault, and he surrendered 
 himself to the red plush arms awaiting him, bereft 
 of whatever small talk his life had taught him. 
 He seemed thinking in a foreign tongue. 
 
 Mrs. Cole sat down on a worsted bird of violent 
 plumage, and rocked to and fro. Her air of 
 pleased content was in itself an illumination of the 
 labyrinth of Mr. Proctor s doubts. Why, he was 
 not expected to talk ! Clearly the compulsion of 
 conversation, other than as a means to an end, 
 was unknown to Mrs. Cole s mind. 
 
 A rap at the kitchen door broke the spell. 
 
 "It s Mr. Heinrich with the milk, Olive." 
 Katherine, who had remained in the kitchen, looked 
 in to explain. 
 
 Heinrich was the keeper of the lighthouse, and 
 the village dairyman as well, a small bent man, 
 with shrewd eyes and grizzled hair. He met 
 Katherine with a bow of exaggerated deference, 
 and she responded with a courtesy of equal import. 
 Then they laughed, as friends of old time laugh 
 together, and went into the pantry, whence dis 
 jointed murmurs of further laughter reached the 
 front room. Mr. Proctor looked at his hostess, 
 but she made no explanation even when Kather 
 ine s clear treble was heard to say, 
 
 " Say to the Lady Bertha that court will be held 
 .Saturday next." 
 
20 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The answer which Mr. Proctor awaited with 
 shameless eagerness was lost in the sound of Mr. 
 Cole s steps outside. 
 
 With Mr. Cole came Karen Torstenson, and a 
 sombre-eyed young man who was introduced as 
 Mr. Livingstone, the teacher. Miss Torstenson, 
 her height dwarfing the men beside her, entered 
 with a matronly assurance of movement that con 
 tradicted her dimple. Her blush, as she was in 
 troduced, meant nothing, but was entrancing to 
 watch, and the three men, each to his fashion, 
 paid tribute Mr. Cole with the complacence of 
 familiarity, Mr. Proctor with undisguised admira 
 tion, and the schoolmaster with a frown of pro 
 test. 
 
 There was no lack of conversation now. It ran 
 the gamut of the day s sorrow and comedy ; the 
 price of hemlock bark ; the working out of the 
 road tax ; the run of whitefish ; the sinking of a 
 schooner. Mr. Proctor listened, but most of the 
 talk was Chaldaic to his mind. He looked at 
 Katherine. She sat, her dog in her arms, her face 
 vivid with attention, and his interest in her flagged. 
 He had thought, in an unformulated way, tfcat the 
 girl s defiant attitude might be a reflection of her 
 father s revolt against the restrictions of the vil 
 lage life, and that he might find in Dr. Edmister 
 one to whom this gossip was a weariness. But no. 
 The voices about him quoted the doctor as author 
 ity. Father and daughter evidently looked at this 
 as life. Mr. Proctor was conscious of disappoint 
 ment. 
 
BEHIND THE RED GERANIUMS 21 
 
 It was a relief to turn to Karen. She rocked in 
 radiant calm, talking not at all, but laughing, now 
 and then, at nothing in particular, with the gur 
 gling rush of a meadowlark s note, a sound so 
 delicious that Mr. Proctor wondered if his admira 
 tion of it were patent enough to be disconcerting. 
 Mr. Livingstone s eyes followed him with unplea 
 sant intentness, and though his weeks in Wilson- 
 port had wonted him to unexplained dislike, this 
 look seemed needlessly hostile. 
 
 The talk was now of the church, and George 
 Cole had forgotten his taciturnity in a discussion 
 of the needs of the Sunday-school. They had 
 been having a revival, he parenthesized to Mr. 
 Proctor, and now they must plan to hold the young 
 people. His unembarrassed speech was convin 
 cing, and Mr. Proctor s intelligence joyed in a sud 
 den understanding of his superintendent s force. 
 He remembered Katherine s docility of the earlier 
 evening ; was it because she, too, appreciated 
 strength that she had given such swift obedience ? 
 He looked across at her with a return of curios 
 ity. . 
 
 She met his scrutiny with unconsciousness of his 
 existence. Her mind was following Mr. Cole, and 
 she shook Chevalier s submissive paw to testify to 
 her approval. 
 
 " They need work to keep them interested," she 
 interrupted. " I 11 make the girls in my class give 
 a tenth of their berry money. It s going to be a 
 great raspberry year." 
 
 Mr. Proctor s too ready smile betrayed him ; the 
 
22 THE LEGATEE 
 
 connection between revivals and raspberries seemed 
 remote. 
 
 "Picking berries is hard work," Katherine 
 flashed. " Honest work work that s worth 
 while." 
 
 Mr. Proctor alone understood the addendum, 
 but he refused to meet the challenge, and dismissed 
 the matter with a mental shrug. The girl was 
 tiresome with her perpetual defiance of his smiles. 
 Had she undertaken to champion the entire vil 
 lage? 
 
 Karen smiled languidly at her friend s enthusi 
 asm. Her blue eyes were untroubled by a hint of 
 either assent or protest, and the very folds of her 
 gown radiated calm. Mr. Proctor walked over to 
 her and began to talk. It was worth while to wake 
 her laughter. 
 
 " Sing for us, Karen," Mr. Cole said, after a 
 pause. He dropped his head back, and his face 
 resumed its mask. 
 
 Karen rose at once, and picked up a singing 
 book. 
 
 " Page sixty-seven," Livingstone begged, as she 
 passed him. 
 
 The girl smiled obediently. She was standing 
 by the table, and the light behind her shone through 
 the cobweb tissues of her hair. 
 
 " Hark ! hark, my soul ; angelic songs are swelling. " 
 
 Karen s voice held now no suggestion of the reso 
 nant organ tone of the day of the wedding. With 
 faint flute notes, tender as the cry of birds at 
 
BEHIND THE RED GERANIUMS 23 
 
 wakening, it filled the little room with throbbing 
 suggestions too evanescent for speech. 
 
 No voice joined Karen s. Katherine had crept 
 over to Mrs. Cole, laying a childish head, with tum 
 bled hair, close to her protecting arm, and her face 
 looked small and awed. 
 
 " Onward we go, for still we hear them singing. 
 Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come. " 
 
 What did Katherine know of weariness ? Yet her 
 red lips trembled. 
 
 Long night seemed stealing on them as they 
 listened night and infinity; and George Cole s 
 hand sought his wife s and held it closely in the 
 dark folds of her gown. The fire of the zealot 
 glowed in Livingstone s eyes as he listened, but no 
 call to arms was in the singer s voice only the 
 pleading of the fostering mother ; and through the 
 white radiance of the moonlit village the echo fol 
 lowed the little party to their homes. 
 
 " Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, 
 The voice of Jesus sounds o er land and sea : 
 And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing, 
 Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 "WHAT DOTH IT PROFIT?" 
 
 IT was four o clock of the next day. Paul Liv 
 ingstone closed the red covers of his school register, 
 and looked with a sigh over the waiting rows of 
 pupils. That his sigh was of relief was a matter 
 for personal rebuke, and he would expiate it later ; 
 but now, even his mind inclined to idleness. June 
 had come to Wilsonport with sunrise. 
 
 Mr. Livingstone rose. "All those," his voice 
 was portentous, " who have communicated to-day 
 may stand." 
 
 A moment s pause, then Karen Torstenson and 
 Katherine Edmister rose in the rear of the room. 
 It was a daily tableau, but it held ever the thrill 
 of novelty, and a laughing rustle swept the expec 
 tant ranks. The master s face twitched ; his look 
 traveled down the lines, but each face met his sus 
 picion with reproachful composure, and his glance 
 dropped, baffled. 
 
 "Miss Torstenson and Miss Edmister may re 
 main in their seats," he said. " Attention ! Keady ! 
 One two" 
 
 The tramping feet they were the heavier that 
 the door was near, and the out of doors lawlessly 
 beguiling filled the room with a haze of white 
 
"WHAT DOTH IT PROFIT?" 25 
 
 dust, through which Mr. Livingstone peered dubi 
 ously at his refractory pupils. The ordeal be 
 fore him lost none of its poignancy through daily 
 familiarity. 
 
 " You may report at the desk, young ladies," 
 he said with ceremony, and awaited them stiffly as 
 they came up the echoing room. 
 
 " Have you any explanation, Miss Torstenson ? " 
 Mr. Livingstone s eyes fled from the girl s while 
 using her name. 
 
 Karen s ready dimple answered for her, but the 
 teacher s look was downcast, so her " No, sir," was 
 edifyingly meek. 
 
 " You know the rules, Miss Torstenson I can 
 not allow " the man stumbled. 
 
 Katherine looked amused. " Karen did n t whis 
 per much," she interrupted, " and I m to blame, 
 anyway, for I tempted her." 
 
 Mr. Livingstone turned from Miss Torstenson 
 with relief, and looked at the speaker ; he had no 
 difficulty in meeting her eyes. 
 
 " Do you realize, Miss Edmister, what your re 
 port will be this month ? " he asked with emphasis. 
 " Do you know you are the most unruly member 
 of this school, and I must mark you as such ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," Katherine assented blithely. Her 
 tone was studiously respectful, but her glance 
 strayed ; it was clear that her enormities weighed 
 but lightly on her spirit. 
 
 " You are too old to be punished, and I can only 
 mark your deportment card, and trust to your 
 pride." Mr. Livingstone s voice was the monotone 
 
26 THE LEGATEE 
 
 of stereotyped phrase, and his pupil s mind was 
 with the dimpling lake without. The man looked 
 at her. " I wish you d try to do better, Katherine," 
 he said impulsively. " You have so much influence 
 with the younger girls, that you make my work 
 very hard." 
 
 Katherine s eyes came back from the window. 
 " Do I ? " There was evident contrition in her 
 surprise. " Why, I never thought of it in that way, 
 and I won t do it any more that is I 11 try. 
 But really I was to blame about Karen." 
 
 Karen, who had been playing with a sprig of 
 lilac in her belt and listening idly, as to an oft- 
 heard tale, lifted her head at sound of her name, 
 and gave her teacher a brilliant smile. Quadratic 
 equations left her mind nebulous, but she had other 
 knowledge much more valuable, and the charts of 
 this young man s thought were quite within her 
 grasp. The look which he gave her in return 
 shook for a moment her usual composure, and she 
 turned sharply, catching her long braids of hair on 
 a projecting screw of the recitation bench. Mr. 
 Livingstone sprang to his feet, but Katherine was 
 before him. 
 
 " Let me do it. You 11 break Karen s hair," she 
 said jealously. Her brown hands were deft, and 
 she unwound the strands with loving caution. 
 
 Her yelwe heer was browded in a tresse, 
 Byhynde her bak, a yerde long I gesse, " 
 
 she lightly quoted. " There ! I ve saved every 
 inch of the yard, Karen. Good-night, Mr. Liv 
 ingstone." 
 
"WHAT DOTH IT PROFIT?" 27 
 
 The teacher s long breath of relaxation made 
 him oblivious for the moment of Adrien Lauze- 
 one s soft-footed approach. The boy waited, im 
 mobile, patient. Heredity had taught him the 
 attitude of the inferior. 
 
 "Well, Adrien, what is it?" asked the man. 
 The schoolmaster had dropped from him when 
 Katherine ran down the steps. 
 
 The boy leaned against the desk with the confi 
 dential air of one prepared for a long talk. 
 
 " You heard what Katherine said," he began, 
 " all that poetry about the hair. Do you know 
 who wrote it ? " 
 
 " No," the man answered. " Katherine Edmis- 
 ter knows a good many things that I don t," he 
 admitted with troubled sincerity. 
 
 The boy s nod was sage. " I know who wrote 
 it," he said, ignoring the confession. " His name 
 was Chaucer. Dr. Edmister gave me the book." 
 There was silence for a moment, and the plash of 
 the waves sounded loud. " Dr. Edmister talks 
 that way, saying things out of books," the boy 
 went on with an effort, " and now Mr. Proctor has 
 come from outside, and he talks the same way. 
 I m not going to stay here always " He paused 
 for the evident deduction. 
 
 The master s face was attentive. "I under 
 stand, Adrien ; you need more than I can give 
 you," he said with humility that suggested no 
 touch of affectation. " Yet books are not all, and 
 I have done for you the best that I know how. I 
 have carried you greatly on my heart. I have 
 
28 THE LEGATEE 
 
 striven, to the utmost, for all of you. And now 
 some of you," his eyes dropped, " are drifting 
 away." 
 
 The boy looked impatient. " Well, then you 
 see how it is," he pursued with ruthless egotism ; 
 " I m only wasting my time here. Maybe Mr. 
 Proctor will talk to father but I want you to 
 talk to him first. Father does n t like Mr. Proc 
 tor." 
 
 Mr. Livingstone s look changed ; it grew harder. 
 
 " Do you see much of this Mr. Proctor, 
 Adrien?" 
 
 " He lends me books. You want me to read all 
 the books I can get. You said so." 
 
 Mr. Livingstone bent a perturbed frown on the 
 boy. " I want you to grow to the full stature of 
 a man, not to consort with a law-breaker, with a 
 man who trafficked in human souls, and is a free 
 thinker and drunkard as well." 
 
 " But he is n t a drunkard ! " cried the boy. 
 
 " What is he, then ? Not a teetotaler. I asked 
 him last night. I wanted him to speak before my 
 Mission Band, and he refused. 4 He who is not 
 for us, is against us. Never forget that, Adrien." 
 
 Adrien looked unconvinced. " Dr. Edmister 
 drinks wine, too," he said carelessly. Then, with 
 a touch of shrewdness that sharpened his features, 
 " Mr. Proctor has such lots of money. Perhaps 
 he 11 help father send me away to school." 
 
 Mr. Livingstone s hand pressed the boy s shoul 
 der. " Adrien ! What doth it profit a man if 
 he gain the whole world ? " he cried. " Would 
 
"WHAT DOTH IT PROFIT?" 29 
 
 you sell your soul for such a mess of pottage as 
 this man s money? And if Dr. Edmister does 
 drink wine Oh, I have known for a long time 
 what influence was working against me ! Adrien, 
 are you tending the bar again ? " 
 
 Adrien scowled. " It s me or Ferdinante 
 evenings. Katherine said I ought to be ashamed 
 not taking my turn. She said it might be a 
 very saintly thing to do, to stay at home and send 
 my sister to the saloon to do my work, but that if 
 it was, she hoped my halo would have pricks in it." 
 His voice mimicked the disdain in the girl s tone. 
 
 The man s face took heavy lines. " It s as I 
 thought. Surely a man s foes are of his own 
 household. Shut your ears to Katherine. She 
 has an idle tongue, and it betrays her." 
 
 The boy s face showed rising color. " Kather 
 ine s in your church," he said suspiciously. " It s 
 queer for you to talk about her like that. Why, 
 Ferdinante says that she s leading me away ; she 
 says the priest says so," he broke off, with an em 
 barrassed laugh. 
 
 " If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off. " The 
 man s eyes glowed as if the words fed inward fires. 
 " What if Katherine is in the church ! That makes 
 her even more a stumbling block. She is like her 
 father. Be warned, Adrien. There is much that 
 is worldly, much that is seditious and unsettling, 
 that comes from that house on the bluff." 
 
 " Don t you want me to go to the Edmisters ? " 
 The boy was frowning. 
 
 The schoolmaster paced the floor. "I want 
 
30 THE LEGATEE 
 
 you to feel," his voice was rising, " that all are as 
 chaff who do not execute judgment and righteous 
 ness. Strange times are at hand. The spoiled 
 shall be delivered from the hand of the oppressor. 
 Then woe to them who by sitting in high places 
 cause a brother to offend. The sword of the Lord 
 and Gideon shall smite." 
 
 " What are you going to do?" asked the boy 
 with practical eagerness. His eyes had lost their 
 doubt. 
 
 Mr. Livingstone s hand reproved him. " It is 
 not I yet the Lord sometimes reveals his pur 
 pose through the humblest of his instruments. 
 And were I chosen But first must come a win 
 nowing of the wheat. Those who are dross, be 
 they our dearest, must be burned away." His tone 
 was growing tense. 
 
 A wandering breeze gathered a spray of lilac 
 from the top of a desk, and tossed it against the 
 young man s hand. He started, and mechanically 
 picked it up. The crushed flowers still held their 
 fragrance, and the man s face broke into gentler 
 lines. 
 
 "Adrien" his voice was almost tender; the 
 flowers were lying in his palm "changes 
 changes, and great deeds lie before us here in 
 Wilsonport, but the appointed time is not yet. I 
 shall be away this summer. When I return I 
 shall bring help, and the fields may perchance be 
 ready for the plough. In the mean time pray 
 without ceasing that those who are dear to us may 
 not be found among the chaff." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BLUFF 
 
 FROM the village to the house on the bluff a 
 narrow footpath twisted upward through the pines, 
 and while Adrien and Mr. Livingstone talked at 
 the schoolhouse, Katherine loitered homeward un 
 der broidered canopies of leaf and blossom. The 
 sombre green of the dark pines was broken here 
 by trees of lighter foliage : silver birches lifted 
 airy minarets of pendulous boughs ; sumachs thrust 
 heavy spears of green from out their leafy tangles, 
 and aspens, tortured by the snows of bygone win 
 ters, cast strange contorted shadows on the path. 
 The sunshine of late afternoon dappled the moss- 
 grown trunks with gold, and flushed with faint 
 pink the waxen blossoms of the LinnaBus, that 
 trailed with graceful garlanding across the way. 
 Harebells blossomed in sunny nooks, and here and 
 there, amid the deeper shade, late wintergreen ber 
 ries glowed from out their glossy leaves, flecking 
 the ground with crimson splashes. 
 
 It was a goodly world, and Katherine went 
 through it softly singing. She stopped many 
 times : now to throw herself at full length on 
 the crackling pine needles, resinous and aromatic 
 in the sun ; now to chatter with a friendly chip- 
 
32 THE LEGATEE 
 
 munk ; and now to arbitrate, with dignity of ges 
 ture, between two woodpeckers who were holding 
 a wordy altercation on the sheltered side of a 
 blasted pine. 
 
 The long log house that Dr. Edmister and his 
 daughter called home hung, as Mr. Proctor had 
 said, over the water, just where the rounding 
 shoulder of the bluff dropped, with a sheer plunge, 
 to the beach below. Its walls, mellowed by na 
 ture s craft to ashen gray, were tapestried with 
 curtains of wild grape, and the low veranda in 
 front of the house was hung with masses of Vir 
 ginia creeper. 
 
 Katherine found her father sitting in the shade 
 of the veranda, surrounded by a litter of books 
 and fishing-rods ; and tossing her hat on the floor, 
 she curled beside him with a contented sigh. 
 
 Dr. Edmister lifted an interrogative face. 
 
 " Late again ! Were you kept after school ? " 
 The censure in his tone was perfunctory, and his 
 daughter slipped a caressing hand along his arm. 
 
 " Don t tell Mrs. Green," she coaxed. " She 11 
 make me a subject for special pleading in prayer- 
 meeting. I m getting on her conscience." 
 
 Dr. Edmister attempted a frown. It sat ill 
 upon his sensitive, clean-cut face, and he aban 
 doned the attempt with dispatch. " You persist 
 in a very childish attitude, Katherine," he said 
 with lingering protest. " If you lived anywhere 
 but in the top of a pine-tree in the Wisconsin 
 forest yes, I saw you yesterday ; don t squander 
 that look of artless surprise you would be a 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE BLUFF 33 
 
 young lady. Is it quite worthy of your years to 
 spend your time devising trouble for that serious- 
 minded young man ? Not," he added, with rising 
 warmth, " that the man s personality is in the least 
 in question. He has been placed in a position of 
 authority over you, and I have tried to teach you 
 to respect authority, no matter how clothed. You 
 are, I fear, an idle pupil in more senses than one." 
 
 The girl flushed. " He asks who has communi 
 cated," she said plaintively. "What can I do? 
 Communicate ? Of course I communicate. If my 
 tongue did n t, my eyes would. Why will he use 
 that absurd word ? And when I stand up alone, 
 night after night, Karen was with me to-day, 
 but she inclines to paths of virtue, he looks at 
 me with horror and forgets all about the whisper 
 ing that has been going on under his eyes all day. 
 Please don t look reproving. It s not permissible 
 for one to be so stupid." 
 
 " You are experimenting, then, with the man s 
 confidence in the honor of his pupils ? " Dr. Ed- 
 mister queried judicially. 
 
 " I am experimenting with his common-sense," 
 Katherine returned with emphasis. " Think of a 
 grown man so shortsighted as not to see that he is 
 teaching the children to lie in the most brazen 
 fashion Oh, look ! " with a quick change of tone. 
 " There s Mr. Heinrich s sail I can see the patch 
 on the jib ! He s coming in from the shoal, too ! 
 The signs read Bass for supper ! " 
 
 Dr. Edmister picked up a fly-book from the 
 veranda floor, and dusted its covers with affection- 
 
34: THE LEGATEE 
 
 ate solicitude. " The signs will read bass to-mor 
 row night, at all events," he prophesied. 
 
 The girl caught the complacence in his tone. 
 " Are you going out with Mr. Heinrich ? " The 
 voice was wistful. 
 
 " I think so. If it s a quiet evening we 11 sail 
 over to the middle grounds, and I ll try a few 
 casts. I have n t had my tackle out this year. * 
 
 " Am I tackle ? " murmured the girl, with arch 
 ing brows. 
 
 " Not this time. The boat is small, and I need 
 Heinrich to manage the sail. I want a good basket 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Five barley loaves," suggested the girl. " You 
 know that we can t eat more than three small 
 fishes. Have n t I heard remarks about pot fisher 
 men? Oh, take me with you, and let the good 
 basket go ! " 
 
 Dr. Edmister shook his head. "Mr. Proctor 
 has been informed," he said, " that a bass never 
 takes a fly in these waters. He has a book that 
 is somewhat dogmatic on the subject. It s unfor 
 tunate, this habit of believing in books," he mused, 
 smiling. " It fetters the imagination. Now look 
 at this jungle cock ! " He took a vividly hued 
 fly, and held it to the light. " What bass of sober 
 character and habits would think of refusing 
 that?" 
 
 Katherine s eyebrows lost their arch, and drew 
 ominously near together. " I did n t know that you 
 knew Mr. Proctor. You said that you did n t think 
 that you cared to know him. You know that you 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE BLUFF 35 
 
 never could tolerate his uncle, and this man is ex 
 actly like him, only a great deal worse." The 
 accusations poured out breathlessly. 
 
 Dr. Edmister looked faintly amused. " I am 
 not deaf," he observed. " Despite my advanced 
 age I hear excellently, and I am also," he went on, 
 with a crafty eye upon his daughter s face, " still 
 capable of controlling my acquaintance with an 
 eye single to my own pleasure." 
 
 Katherine looked abashed, but an almost imper 
 ceptible lift of the corner of her father s mustache 
 taught her her bearings, and she climbed reck 
 lessly up on the arm of his chair. " Traitor ! " 
 she whispered in measured syllables into his ear. 
 " Did you see the box of chessmen standing on 
 that man s window ledge ? " 
 
 " I did," said her father with immovable face. 
 " They were of old ivory, and quaintly carved. I 
 saw them." 
 
 " You called, of course. When do you play ? " 
 
 Dr. Edmister laughed. "Mr. Proctor is com 
 ing up here to-night. We may try conclusions 
 in a game or so. I don t know. Mr. Proctor has 
 been well trained, but he is a young man, and 
 youth is volatile. Chess is a game for old age 
 and the fireside. I m badjy out of practice, but 
 I don t know that I m afraid of the result." 
 
 Katherine slipped from the chair and walked 
 to the veranda rail. " I won t see him. I shan t 
 have to, shall I ? " she asked. 
 
 Dr. Edmister looked at her curiously ; her voice 
 had learned a new note. " What is it, Kather- 
 
36 THE LEGATEE 
 
 ine ? " he asked, as he disjointed his rods and put 
 them back in their cases. " What s Mr. Proctor s 
 particular item of offense ? You re not jealous of 
 the chess, are you? " 
 
 " Jealous of him ! Hardly. But he s rude 
 and sneering. He called Mr. Ellis a lamb." 
 
 "A lamb!" 
 
 " Adrien Lauzeone said so. And I saw him 
 laugh at the church at the wedding, when Nelly 
 Peterson played Rescue the Perishing. 
 
 Dr. Edmister looked resigned. " If you Ve 
 sufficient command of your native English to tell 
 this story coherently, Katherine, I shall be grate 
 ful. My imagination has its reserves. Spare 
 them." 
 
 Katherine gave an unwilling smile. " I sup 
 pose you 11 laugh too," she said, as she told her 
 story, "but I don t mind your laughter. You 
 don t sneer. Why, we both laugh, but it s differ 
 ent we re part of it. Mr. Proctor does n t be 
 long here. What business has he to come from 
 outside and show us how queer we are ? It is n t 
 generous ! " she concluded defiantly. 
 
 Her father leaned against the rail, and listened 
 with tolerant enjoyment. His height and bearing 
 gave him a look of austere distinction that his 
 gray hair accented, and his daughter s mind re 
 sponded to the look of command in his face. 
 
 " Mr. Proctor may be the malefactor that your 
 tone implies," he said at last, " but you have proved 
 to me only that he has an appreciative mind. I 
 think the better of him, that quality being, as I 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE BLUFF 37 
 
 have heard you remark, not altogether common 
 in Wilsonport." 
 
 Katherine looked stubborn. " I don t like him," 
 she persisted. 
 
 " You may like him better when you meet him. 
 I found him civil enough, certainly, if that is the 
 article of your complaint." 
 
 " I have met him." 
 
 Dr. Edmister looked up sharply. " You have ? 
 You have n t told me of that, my daughter." 
 
 " There was n t much to tell. Yes, I suppose 
 that I ought to have told you ; I will now. I 
 suppose you 11 laugh at this, too." Her tone did 
 not invite amusement. 
 
 She was her father s daughter; so she told a 
 story too well to spare herself in the telling, but 
 Dr. Edmister did not laugh. 
 
 " Why did you go in when you knew that Mr. 
 Proctor was there?" he asked perplexedly. 
 
 Katherine bit her lip. " I had to apologize, and 
 I wanted to have it over with." 
 
 " But why an apology ? You say that you dis 
 like him." 
 
 The girl looked troubled at his density. " Don t 
 you see," she explained, " that was just why I had 
 to apologize ? I had made up my mind never to 
 like him, nor to have anything to do with him ; 
 then I put myself in the wrong by making that 
 silly speech, so that I was as much at fault as he. 
 I had to apologize so that I could start fair." 
 
 Dr. Edmister gave her a moment s puzzled 
 study. " I am afraid that I shall have to send you 
 
38 THE LEGATEE 
 
 away," he said shortly. " You will lose your sense 
 of humor if you stay here longer, and you can t 
 afford that. A sense of humor," he observed 
 didactically to the air at large, "is, after all, the 
 only heritage that the ages have left us is all 
 that distinguishes us from the savage. No, Kath- 
 erine, beware ! Lose your sense of humor, your 
 grasp of the point of view, and I will put you in 
 moccasins." 
 
 The girl s eyes grew stormy. " All that does n t 
 change my opinion of Mr. Proctor," she insisted, 
 a break in her voice. "I don t care if it was 
 funny. Mr. Cole is n t funny, and he laughed at 
 Mr. Cole s wedding. I can t stand it for anybody 
 to laugh at Mr. Cole funny or not ! " The sob 
 reached her throat, but she held it there. 
 
 " Funny ? " expostulated her father. " Who 
 said that it was funny ? Choose your words, child, 
 choose your words. Don t be a barbarian in 
 speech, even though you do live like a squirrel or 
 a Chippewa. Humor, remember, is a generic 
 term. Now, fun There s Mrs. Green with 
 Chevalier. Keep him away from the veranda, 
 Katherine ; he 11 tangle my lines ! " 
 
 Mrs. Green climbed the veranda steps, laugh 
 ing. Her ample sides were formed for laughter, 
 and responded with frequency to their manifest 
 role. " Ephraim s out trimmin the hedge by the 
 chicken coop, again, doctor," she said. " I tell 
 him that s his knittin work, trimmin that hedge ; 
 he does it whenever he gets kind of worked up, 
 just as I d sit down to round off the toe of a 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE BLUFF 39 
 
 stockin . And he wants to know whether it ain t 
 a good time to kill that old goose. He ain t a 
 mite of use to us, and he s got a dreadful appetite 
 for corn." 
 
 Dr. Edmister frowned. " This is n t the season 
 for roast goose," he said somewhat shortly, " and 
 he is n t doing any harm. You should mention the 
 matter in the autumn." 
 
 Mrs. Green looked comfortably resigned to the 
 expected. " I did," she said, with a placid nod. 
 " You know you said that we better wait because 
 the feathers would be better in the spring. No, 
 the goose ain t no harm, except that it kind of 
 bothers Ephraim to have him around. He sort of 
 litters up the chicken coop, he s so big. Ephraim 
 would like to have the geese and hens all one size, 
 so they d look neater on the perches. You 11 have 
 to look out for Chevalier, Katherine. He snapped 
 at the berry-boy real vicious to-day." 
 
 Chevalier, who had jumped into the circle of 
 Katherine s arms, lifted a quivering nose at the 
 sound of his name, then pushed closer to his refuge. 
 The inordinate length of bushy tail, which he 
 carried curled over his back like a squirrel s, spoke 
 his dubious race, but there was nothing mongrel 
 in his mental composition, and the eyes hidden 
 under Katherine s arm were hungrily questioning 
 and tender. 
 
 The girl caressed him absently. " Chevalier s 
 a patrician to his paws," she said. " He does n t 
 like bare feet. I d like to know where he formu 
 lated his conventions. Mrs. Green, Mr. Proctor 
 
40 THE LEGATEE 
 
 from the mill, you know is coming to spend 
 the evening with father. I m going to take my 
 books and sit with you. May I ? " 
 
 " Land, yes ! You re always welcome ; you 
 know that ; and Ephraim lots on having you come 
 to our room, but " Mrs. Green turned to Dr. 
 Edmister, and looked interrogative. 
 
 When the lash seemed needful, Dr. Edmister 
 could use it with a calm disdain that older wills 
 than Katherine s had quailed before. 
 
 " If my daughter may sit with you this evening," 
 he said with stately courtesy, " I shall be grateful. 
 Mr. Proctor is, I believe, unused to children, and 
 I wish him to have a pleasant visit." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE GAME OF CHESS 
 
 JUNE is but fickle in the north-land, and the 
 forest path, teeming with radiant color in the after 
 noon, was a maze of elfin shadowings when Mr. 
 Proctor climbed the hill. 
 
 He climbed it rapidly, for his one talk with Dr. 
 Edmister had stirred a wish for more. The stormy 
 Katherine he had dropped from his thought, now 
 that Dr. Edmister had proved companionable. The 
 girl had been of moment only when she seemed an 
 index of her father s mind. 
 
 Dr. Edmister met him at the door, and welcomed 
 him with kindly phrase. The large low room, 
 aglow from the red-shaded lamp upon the reading 
 table, was simple of furnishing, but the books and 
 pictures that crowded its walls pointed sharp con 
 trasts to the life that lay in the village below. It 
 is sometimes good to have been lonely when the 
 loneliness is over. Dr. Edmister s eyes, trained in 
 the lore of facial changes, missed nothing of the 
 alert enjoyment in his guest s look, and it was food 
 to his one vanity as a scholar. The two men were 
 strangers ; but with the chessboard between them 
 and the books about them, they were perilously 
 near to becoming sudden friends. 
 
42 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The game progressed with varying changes for 
 two hours ; then an unwary move of Mr. Proctor s 
 left the field to his adversary. 
 
 Dr. Edmister pushed the board to one side with 
 an ejaculation of content. "It is a pleasure to 
 win from you," he said, "but one that I must 
 make the most of this time. I shall not have it 
 often. You have been playing to-night with half 
 your mind elsewhere ; when you recall that half, 
 the score will be reversed." 
 
 Mr. Proctor smiled his denial. " It is good of 
 you to make excuse, but I was not inattentive, 
 only stupid. I ve had to eat and sleep mill for a 
 month, and, given a rut, my mind s not a detach 
 able organ." 
 
 The doctor looked sudden comprehension. " Are 
 things going smoothly?" he asked, pushing back 
 in his easy chair. 
 
 " Fairly. It s new work, and I don t know that 
 I understand my material." 
 
 " Men or lumber ? " 
 
 " Both ; though, so far as the men are concerned, 
 I ve a good superintendent." 
 
 Dr. Edmister balanced a pipe on his hand, offer 
 ing another to his guest. " Yes, Cole s a good 
 man," he presently said ; " bigoted, perhaps, but 
 capable and hard working. Are these labor 
 troubles likely to affect you ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor smoked for a moment. " I hardly 
 know," he answered. There was a new inflection 
 in his voice. The word " labor " brought to him 
 again the burden he had for the moment laid 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS 43 
 
 aside, a sordid burden, to his thinking, and a 
 gossamer of reserve blew across his consciousness. 
 " There s an undercurrent at work," he went on ; 
 " just what, I m uncertain. But I ve not given 
 it much thought ; I doubt that it s important. It 
 can t be that these men read the papers, and labor 
 troubles are largely imitative. Then remember 
 that I ve a tower of Babel down there. Ten na 
 tionalities would hardly agree on one plan." 
 
 Dr. Edmister studied his guest. "But Babel 
 had a strife of tongues," he warned. " Diversity 
 of blood may still mean unity. The case of servant 
 against master is an old one ; it s a stronger bond 
 than any tie of race." 
 
 The younger man smiled. " They re an uncouth 
 people," his hand brushed away the subject as if 
 it soiled him, " and are probably kinder in intent 
 than their words would seem. Certainly the sin 
 of dissimulation is not theirs." 
 
 The doctor s face was non-committal. " I am 
 much out of touch with any active phase of the 
 village life," he said at length. " It has seemed 
 wise to me to hold myself to the strictly neutral 
 role of physician. The souls and mentalities of 
 the people are already cared for with zeal, if not 
 discretion. You ve met Paul Livingstone ? " 
 
 " Only casually. He comes to the mill a good 
 deal, and talks with the men." 
 
 Dr. Edmister caught the restraint in the other s 
 voice, and answered it. " Livingstone won t trou 
 ble you," he said with easy optimism. " He may 
 be rude he s a zealot, and has the limitations of 
 
44 THE LEGATEE 
 
 his environment but he s conscientious. Then, 
 too, he s a religious fanatic, not a labor reformer." 
 The younger man looked thoughtful. " The two 
 seem oddly mingled," he said, as if formulating 
 his thought for the first time. " Religion, labor, 
 personal antagonism, all seem names for one 
 motive. I overheard a young Swede yesterday 
 haranguing a group of men at the lunch hour, and 
 it was hard to tell what moved his audience most, 
 
 his arguments for the eight-hour law, his lurid 
 picture of the doom of sinners, or his personal ar 
 raignment of me." 
 
 " Personal ? " 
 
 "The sins of the forbears." Mr. Proctor s 
 smile was enigmatic. " I m less an individual to 
 these men, I find, than the exponent of a princi 
 ple. Oh, the boy was eloquent on the general idea 
 that white men should not submit to the whip of 
 the overseer myself as overseer that slavery 
 should not be wiped out at the South to flourish in 
 the free air of the North. He was really effective 
 
 in view of his audience. I was sorry that the 
 prejudice against listening in hiding prevented my 
 hearing more. He stopped, of course, when he saw 
 me." 
 
 " Who was the man ? " 
 
 " One of the hands in the yards. I had n t no 
 ticed him till yesterday. Torstenson is his name." 
 
 Dr. Edmister whistled softly. " Yngve Tor- 
 stenson ! " he ejaculated. " That s bad. I 11 have 
 to set Karen after him. That s a good family, 
 industrious and frugal. Ole, the father, is as 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS 45 
 
 straight as a die. I wonder who s been after the 
 boy ! Go to the house and talk to him. He s a 
 weak-willed youngster oh, I ve known him since 
 his kite and marble days but he s quick-witted. 
 It would pay you to get hold of him." 
 
 Mr. Proctor bowed absent assent. " Don t look 
 around, Dr. Eduiister," he said evenly, " but 
 there s a man s face looking in at the end window. 
 I ve been watching him for some minutes. You 11 
 have to turn quickly to see him ; he dodges when 
 you move." 
 
 Dr. Edmister leaned languidly back in his chair, 
 then whirled with the recoil of a released spring. 
 The face in the window was too slow, and the 
 doctor gave an exclamation of relief and annoy 
 ance. 
 
 " The impertinent idiot ! " he exclaimed under 
 his breath, and going to the door opened it with a 
 jerk. 
 
 " Adrien," he called, " Adrien, come here ! " 
 The crash of breaking boughs was the only an 
 swer, and his forehead seamed with annoyance. 
 " The most unaccountable place, and the most un 
 accountable people," he grumbled. " That was 
 Adrien Lauzeone. The young man needs a lesson ; 
 he s an odd lad." 
 
 " I know Adrien," said Mr. Proctor somewhat 
 briefly. " I thought it was he at first, then con 
 cluded I was mistaken. He looked so " He 
 took up his pipe, and left the sentence unfinished. 
 
 " So unpleasant ? " supplied the doctor. 
 
 " Well, so far from amiable, at the least," Mr. 
 
46 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Proctor admitted. "What do you suppose was 
 the matter?" 
 
 " Anything from a toothache to a north wind," 
 said the doctor easily. " These Belgians show 
 their peasant blood in "their lack of self-control. 
 They fly in a black rage over nothing, and they 
 all look like stage brigands. He may have wanted 
 Katherine to help him with his lessons. Kather- 
 ine is my daughter, Mr. Proctor, hardly an old 
 enough daughter to dispense the courtesies of the 
 home, she is still a schoolgirl, but too old for 
 the license of a child. Hence you have not met 
 her this evening." The sudden reserve in the 
 doctor s tone struck the first dissonance. 
 
 " But I have met your daughter at George 
 Cole s," said the young man with an effort. The 
 comprehension in his host s face made the courteous 
 speech that was in his mind seem insincere, and he 
 withheld it. 
 
 Dr. Edmister looked up, and amusement can 
 celed his momentary annoyance. " Yes, she told 
 me." The emphasis that he gave the words stood 
 for the explanation he forbore to make. " I m 
 sorry if she seemed discourteous, but remember she 
 is a child, and the life you laughed at is the only 
 one that she has known." 
 
 Mr. Proctor s hand stopped him. " I am the 
 one who should apologize. But did she feel that I 
 laughed at her ? I assure you " 
 
 " Not at her ; that would have been much less 
 serious." The doctor smiled with reminiscent 
 enjoyment. "No, her tale was not of her own 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS 47 
 
 wrongs," and he repeated the conversation of the 
 afternoon. He told it brilliantly, and it assumed 
 importance. That he was talking to a responsive 
 listener did not in the least increase the pungency 
 of his narration ; he would have talked with equal 
 fluency to Mrs. Green. The mind that he was in 
 reality addressing was that of the woman who had 
 been his wife, and though its quick response had 
 failed to answer his for many years, he carried the 
 memory of its companionship with him, and was, 
 despite his surroundings, reasonably happy and con 
 tent. 
 
 Mr. Proctor listened intently, but with less 
 amusement than the tale deserved. " She told it 
 from my standpoint," he said perplexedly, "and 
 gave me the best of it. Yet she was vexed." 
 
 Dr. Edmister sobered at the gravity of the oth 
 er s tone. 
 
 " Don t try to reconcile a child s moods," he 
 protested. " She is an irrational little piece, and 
 needs a woman s companionship. She would n t 
 have been so defensive if it had been any one but 
 George Cole. She s true to her sex in her bolster 
 ing of idols." 
 
 " I saw that she was fond of Mr. Cole. His wish 
 seemed law." 
 
 " There s a story behind that," said the doctor, 
 with a change of look. " Some years ago four, 
 to be accurate we had malignant diphtheria in 
 the village. It was a black time. We were a hun 
 dred miles from a hospital. There were forty cases 
 in one week. I don t often talk of that week, for 
 
48 THE LEGATEE 
 
 I know that if I had been ten men instead of one 
 
 well, I did what I could. But I had two helpers 
 
 two only George Cole and Heinrich at the 
 lighthouse." The memory drove the doctor to the 
 window ; it was dark without, but he looked for a 
 time in silence. " In all this village," he resumed, 
 turning finally, " in all that time of fear and horror, 
 those two, alone, quitted themselves like men. The 
 others the few who had semblance of manhood 
 and tried to make excuse said they had children. 
 Heinrich has a crippled child, a girl, and mother 
 less. Perhaps Katherine has some excuse." 
 
 The younger man said nothing. He had seen 
 Heinrich s crippled daughter, and the memory 
 made the reality of the doctor s story uncomfort 
 ably keen. 
 
 " However," said the doctor at length, he had 
 come back to the table, and his tone was light, 
 " that is a bygone tale. There are good men in the 
 village ; yes, good men, as the warp of humanity 
 runs. I told the story to explain my daughter s 
 attitude. She is an impressionable child which 
 is one reason why I climbed this hilltop for a home. 
 I saw your wonder as I drew you in from the dark 
 
 ness." 
 
 " I marveled how your patients reached you." 
 " Wait till you see the path in the daytime. 
 There s healing in its beauty. As to my patients, 
 I have the ailments of the people well catalogued. 
 I know, as a rule, where I 11 be wanted." 
 
 " But in case of accidents at the mill, for in 
 stance ? " 
 

 THE GAME OF CHESS 49 
 
 " One stroke of the schoolhouse bell means an 
 accident. Not a child in the township but knows 
 that, and could call me. Surgical cases are piti 
 fully common, thanks to your saws. But enough 
 of that. It s not good fuel for an evening pipe." 
 
 They smoked for a time in silence, their thoughts 
 busy with themselves and with each other. Some 
 what of the gracious calm of a great forest falls on 
 those who live within its thrall. 
 
 Mr. Proctor roused himself first, with a guilty 
 awakening to the lateness of the hour. 
 
 " I must " he began, but was cut short by the 
 clanging stroke of a bell. One stroke ! No reso 
 nance softened the rude warning, and it tore the 
 soft quiet of the night. 
 
 Mr. Proctor s eyes leaped to his host. They met 
 no answering look. Dr. Edmister was already at 
 the door, his medicine case in hand. 
 
 " Bring the lantern ! " he called back. " It hangs 
 on a nail by the front door. Put out the lights, 
 lock the door, and bring the key ! " The last words 
 came faintly from the distance. 
 
 Mr. Proctor obeyed. Some yards from the bot 
 tom of the trail he overtook the doctor. The elder 
 man nodded, both were too breathless for speech, 
 and they pushed on, side by side. 
 
 " Where do we go ? " asked Mr. Proctor when 
 breathing became less a pain. 
 
 " A messenger should be here ; there he is now." 
 
 A man waiting at the foot of the path started 
 forward. The swinging lantern showed a short 
 twisted figure and bushy hair. 
 
60 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Come, Lars," said the doctor, with no break in 
 the swing of his stride. " Who is it ? Where ? " 
 
 "It s Yngve, sir Yngve Torstenson. And 
 he s hurt in his head by he was knocked down, 
 sir. We was at a meeting over the feed store." 
 
 "Torstenson s?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." . 
 
 " Is he badly hurt ? " 
 
 "He s awful bloody," said the man fearfully. 
 " I could n t see plain." He drew nearer, and his 
 voice essayed a whisper. "Will you send him 
 home first ? " His crooked finger indicated Mr. 
 Proctor. 
 
 The doctor did not answer, but he laid his hand 
 on Mr. Proctor s arm with a pressure which said 
 " stay," and the quickened speed of his step taxed 
 his companion s endurance. 
 
 The stairs that led to the loft over the feed store 
 were in the back of the building, and as the trio 
 picked their way among the sacks of grain and 
 flour, the swelling roar of voices in the room above 
 sounded ominous. 
 
 The doctor led the way up the narrow stair in 
 strides that seemed to scorn the intervening medium 
 of steps, and entered a low-raftered room, dimly 
 lighted with smoking lamps. The men there 
 were too many to count at a glance were gathered 
 in a huddled circle about a figure lying in the centre 
 of the room, and they started at the doctor s ap 
 proach. He gave them a quick look, but their eyes 
 had left him to dwell on Mr. Proctor. Plainly this 
 last arrival was, to their minds, an uninvited guest, 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS 51 
 
 and the doctor s look of command grew more pro 
 nounced. 
 
 " Proctor," he called authoritatively, " close the 
 door, and see that no one goes out ! Stand back 
 there, men ! " and he was on his knees beside the 
 figure on the floor. 
 
 Yngve Torstenson had somewhat of his sister s 
 coloring, but the blood-smirched head now lying on 
 Heinrich s arm bore little suggestion of the blonde 
 beauty of Karen s face. 
 
 The doctor looked grave. " Bring a lantern," he 
 commanded shortly, and the examination began. 
 
 The strained hush of the room was broken only 
 by the half-strangled breathing of the men, and the 
 doctor s voice, which at length ended the silence, 
 sounded startlingly abrupt. 
 
 " It s only " he began as he rose, then came 
 to a full stop, and studied the faces about him with 
 deliberation. " You ve given me some exercise," 
 he said. There was something in the glances that 
 met his that hardened his voice. " It s not your 
 fault that I have n t a pretty surgical case on hand. 
 A little more to the right and Who did it ? " 
 
 The men made no answer ; a few turned away. 
 
 " Is it bad, doctor ? " It was Heinrich s voice, 
 from his place on the floor ; he still held young 
 Torstenson s head in his arms. 
 
 The doctor s glance softened. "Bad? No. It s 
 only a scalp wound, and he 11 be out in a day, 
 but " his voice growing sterner "I want to 
 know who did it. It was a good job. Don t be 
 ashamed of your handiwork. I did n t know there 
 
52 THE LEGATEE 
 
 was a man of you strong enough to knock Yngve 
 Torstenson down. Speak out ! " 
 
 "I did it, doctor." The voice was again Hein- 
 rich s, and the doctor started. 
 
 " Heinrich J " he exclaimed. Few people in 
 Wilsonport had heard that tone in Dr. Edmister s 
 voice. It held both protest and appeal. 
 
 The wounded man opened his eyes. " Don t 
 you " he began, but Dr. Edmister stooped to lay 
 a hand upon his lips. 
 
 "Lie still, Yngve," he said. " We 11 take you 
 home in a minute. Now, men," he straight 
 ened himself once more, " is this true ? " 
 
 The men before him nodded a slow assent. To 
 Mr. Proctor, in the background, their reluctance 
 seemed sullen. 
 
 Dr. Edmister s look dropped. " You say that 
 you struck this boy, Heinrich ? " The incredulity 
 of his tone would not be stilled. 
 
 " Yes, doctor." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 Heinrich s glance flinched at the brevity of the 
 question, but he replied in kind. " I knocked him 
 down. His head hit the edge of the woodbox." 
 
 The woodbox was built of heavy jagged timbers, 
 and Mr. Proctor looked at it with shrinking. Yet 
 Heinrich s eyes were asking him for reassurance, 
 and he smiled. Later he wondered at his swift 
 response, for the scene seemed useless and de 
 grading. 
 
 The doctor s gaze in the mean time had not stirred 
 from the man on the floor. " You might have 
 killed him, Heinrich." 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS 53 
 
 " I know," Heinrich answered quietly, and rais 
 ing his eyes he met the doctor s glance. The two 
 men studied each other long, and the doctor turned 
 away with a look that made him younger. 
 
 " Take that door off its hinges," he said to Lars 
 Olson. " We 11 use it for a stretcher. Now, men, 
 
 don t leave, any of you, how did it happen? " 
 There was no answer. Again the heavy faces 
 turned aside. Dr. Edmister eyed them merci 
 lessly. " I in tired of this nonsense." His voice 
 was growing trumpet clear. " Xavier Lauzeone, 
 you re a man of sense. What does this mean ? " 
 
 The Belgian turned an immovable face. "I 
 have forgotten," he answered. 
 
 The doctor drew his breath through his teeth, 
 and resumed his scrutiny. Each face bore the 
 same answer. " You have forgotten," he repeated 
 slowly. " Have you forgotten, Heinrich? " 
 
 Heinrich again raised his steady eyes. " Yes, 
 doctor," he answered gravely, " I have forgotten." 
 
 The doctor s years had taught his face control. 
 He looked across at Mr. Proctor, and the ghost 
 of a smile showed its white shimmer in his eyes. 
 Why this dark importance ? Comedy hung close 
 upon their heels to-night. 
 
 Mr. Proctor s look was guarded. " Mr. Living 
 stone may be able to tell us something," he sug 
 gested. His bow brought the schoolmaster into 
 sudden view. " His memory trained, of course 
 
 may be less treacherous." 
 
 Dr. Edmister exclaimed, " Livingstone ! I 
 did n t see you." He checked the welcome on his 
 lips. " Surely you, too " 
 
54 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Have not forgotten ? " Livingstone caught at 
 the words defiantly. " No. And what I have not 
 forgotten I wish to tell." 
 
 The men closed about him. " No ! " they 
 shouted. " Keep still ! Keep still, on your life ! " 
 
 The schoolmaster did not flinch. " I do not 
 keep still on my life, " he said impressively, 
 " but because I am not sure that the time is ripe 
 for speech." His eyes surprised the amusement 
 in Mr. Proctor s glance, and his breath came 
 quickly. Then the mill-owner turned away negli 
 gent, smiling, and the doctor interposed. 
 
 " Mr. Livingstone may perhaps recall the pur 
 pose of this meeting," he observed. "His pre 
 sence here proves it of importance." 
 
 " It was a political meeting," said Mr. Living 
 stone. His voice was studiously reticent. He 
 would give Mr. Proctor no opportunity to repeat 
 that look of half -wearied disdain. 
 
 "Politics and broken heads," murmured the 
 doctor. " Consistent enough. Help me here, 
 some of you men ! You can take this young man 
 on a stretcher in state. The exertion will be good 
 for you. Your memories need a tonic." 
 
 The alacrity of the men spoke their joy at re 
 lease. Evidently they found the air of myster} 
 heavy breathing. The doctor followed, but turned 
 at the top of the stairs. 
 
 " Xavier Lauzeone ! " he took the Belgian by 
 the sleeve, and motioned to the room within. 
 " Look at Adrien. This is no place for him. You 
 are shrewd enough to know better. Send him 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS 55 
 
 away to school before he gets into mischief. He 
 came to my house to-night ; stared into my win 
 dows, and ran like a thief when I saw him. Send 
 him away." 
 
 Lauzeone s eyes justified Dr. Edmister s epithet. 
 " There s mischief in schools, too," he grumbled, 
 with a shrug, " and when Adrien went to your 
 house to-night Proctor was there first. Why go 
 in tell me!" 
 
 The doctor turned away. " I 11 tell you that 
 you re playing with sharp tools when you use Mr. 
 Proctor s name lightly," he said ; " but look out 
 for your own hurts. Only follow my advice with 
 Adrien." 
 
 Mr. Proctor, meanwhile, had left the building, 
 and Dr. Edmister hurried after him. Yet it was 
 a moment before either spoke. 
 
 " Well ? " the doctor said. 
 
 The young man laughed. " I am much your 
 debtor." There was new elasticity in his voice, 
 and the doctor looked at him. 
 
 " You are not curious ? " he asked. 
 
 Proctor shook his head. " Is n t it obvious ? " 
 he asked in turn. " Men of this stamp they re 
 children crave melodrama. They are driven by 
 their life here to create their own stage illusions. 
 What does it mean to you ? " 
 
 The doctor was grave. "It means that you 
 have other games of chess to play," he said slowly. 
 " Human pawns is an old simile ; it comes to me 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHILE THE SUN SHONE 
 
 THE next morning dawned cloudless and calm. 
 No curl of white broke the beryl-tinted surface of 
 the lake, where rounding billows swayed like giant 
 cradles, and the plash of the swells on the sand 
 was murmurous as a dove s note. 
 
 Mr. Proctor stood at his open window exulting 
 in the caress of the air. The crude hard outlines 
 of the settlement, that had beat upon his nerves 
 like hammer strokes on metal, were softened to 
 beauty in this flood of amber light, and an unrea 
 soning feeling of home comfort and content wiped 
 out the memory of the night before. The air 
 pulsed with peace. 
 
 Jessie brought in the breakfast with a grudging 
 curve of the lips that strove hard to be a smile. 
 
 " It s a weather breeder," she said, after dismal 
 scrutiny of the glowing out of doors, then added, 
 less as an afterthought than as if the facts bore 
 dark and related significance, " Karen Torsten- 
 son s been hanging round the gate waiting for 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Proctor left his half-finished breakfast, and 
 went with quick steps down the plank walk that 
 led through the sand. Why Karen ? His thoughts 
 
WHILE THE SUN SHONE 57 
 
 dragged unwillingly back to the feed loft and its 
 sensational mystery. Were here more complica 
 tions ? 
 
 Karen greeted him with timorous dimples. 
 " Yngve told me to come," she prefaced with un 
 wonted hesitation. 
 
 " Is he " The man stopped. He could ask 
 no questions till he knew how far the girl s infor 
 mation went. 
 
 " Oh, he s all right," Karen said easily, " but he 
 wanted me to see you. No, I can t come in. Are 
 you going to the mill ? I 11 go down that way." 
 
 " Let us go to the beach," Mr. Proctor sug 
 gested. The mill looked undesirably near. " And 
 now what can I do for Yngve ? " 
 
 The girl s tongue was not ready. " It s it s 
 Heinrich," she stammered. "You won t ar 
 rest " 
 
 The man caught the last word, and it repelled 
 him. " Arrest him? " he echoed. 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! " In her eagerness the girl placed 
 a hand upon his arm. " That s what Yngve is 
 afraid of. You must n t arrest Heinrich. Yngve 
 said so. He said I must coax you not to do it." 
 
 " Coax me ? My dear child," in their absorp 
 tion the patronizing epithet passed unnoticed, 
 " I ve nothing to do with it. I could n t arrest 
 Heinrich if I wished. Your brother must want 
 something else. What is it ? " 
 
 " No, that was all. Will you promise not to do 
 anything? You are the boss. I ll tell Yngve 
 you promised." 
 
58 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Her pleading flushed her cheeks newly, and Mr. 
 Proctor met temptation to magnify his preroga 
 tives. He vanquished it, with a sigh for his own 
 moderation. 
 
 " Yes, I 11 promise, if you wish. But what was 
 it all about, Miss Karen ? " 
 
 At the word " promise " the subject had blown 
 from Karen s mind like thistle-down. "I don t 
 know," she said indifferently. She turned a cheek 
 whose silken pink and white argued the futility of 
 aught but love and laughter. " But Yngve says 
 it a all right." 
 
 Mr. Proctor smiled at the period in her tone. 
 Complications had no place here, and his spirits 
 again tuned to the morning. " I had a sister 
 too," he said. " Let us sit down here on the sand," 
 he was in the clutch of an impulse, and he gave 
 it sway, " and I will show you her picture." 
 
 " I can t." Karen looked rueful. " I Ve got 
 to go to school. This is the last week, and then 
 I 11 be out for good. Father says I m too big to 
 go any more." 
 
 " What will you do then ? Go away to 
 school ? " 
 
 She looked faintly amused at the impropriety 
 of the suggestion. " A grown girl like me ? Oh, 
 I 11 stay at home. Father says he 11 pay me if 
 I 11 help tend the store." 
 
 Mr. Proctor winced, and hurried his sister s 
 picture to his pocket. His good sense seemed ever 
 at war with his traditions. He was tired of being 
 a battle-ground. 
 
WHILE THE SUN SHONE 59 
 
 They found Mr. Livingstone standing at the 
 schoolhouse door, Katherine beside him. The 
 girl held a paper, covered with figures, in her hand, 
 and her face was dark with doubt. "Oh, why 
 should A insist on giving the square root of the 
 nth division of his income to B ? " they heard her 
 lament. " I m sure it does n t sound nourishing." 
 
 The schoolmaster did not hear her. He was 
 watching the approaching figures, and his closed 
 hands showed white knuckles. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Torstenson," he said. 
 He gave Mr. Proctor a nod that was a cross be 
 tween denial of his presence and resentment of it. 
 " You have already kept us waiting." 
 
 Katherine s eyebrows betrayed surprise, and her 
 face flushed. The next moment she slipped her 
 hand into Karen s. 
 
 "You and Mr. Proctor came just in time to 
 save Mr. Livingstone," she said with a smile that 
 dwelt longest on the schoolmaster. " Algebra 
 and I are not to be recommended in combina 
 tion. Will you show Mr. Proctor that problem ? 
 I m sure he 11 agree with me that A squandered 
 his substance in riotous generosity." 
 
 There was deference in her voice that made her 
 nonsense winning, and complacence crowded an 
 noyance in Livingstone s face. 
 
 " You are perhaps a mathematician ? " he 
 asked of Mr. Proctor. His tone was once more 
 ex cathedra. His grasp upon his regained dignity 
 was none the less secure that he owed it to a girl s 
 slight hand. 
 
60 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Mr. Proctor smiled his denial and turned away, 
 but Karen followed a few paces. 
 
 " I hope that you will be happy here," she said, 
 and she held out her hand. 
 
 The man looked at her. Her cotton dress was 
 as blue as her eyes, and the sunshine strayed in 
 her hair. 
 
 "I am happy," he answered with unnecessary 
 vehemence, and because he used the present tense 
 he spoke the truth. 
 
 At his office he found Dr. Edmister, who greeted 
 him with a comradeship that under more usual 
 circumstances years alone would have had force 
 to justify. 
 
 " What have you learned of last night ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Nothing or rather, only that Yngve s mood 
 is pacific." 
 
 " Yes, I ve just seen Yngve. He has an exalted 
 vision of your estate, and is evidently afraid of an 
 investigation. I ve been walking through the 
 mill, and the mental air is balmy suspiciously 
 so. That affair last night seems to have been a 
 thunderstorm that cleared the air." 
 
 Mr. Proctor drew a long breath. " I think it s 
 the weather. We re all more amiable this morn 
 ing. This air is too strenuous most of the time 
 to admit of taking life lightly." 
 
 " It is a fine day which brings me to my er 
 rand. I ve a call to make near Birch Creek. 
 Would you like to drive out there ? " 
 
 " Yes, I 11 go with pleasure. Can you wait till 
 
WHILE THE SUN SHONE 61 
 
 I see Cole ? If you go near the shingle mill, I 11 
 speak to Detiere. I have n t been out there but 
 once since I came. Detiere needs very little super 
 vision, and I found work piled up here." 
 
 The doctor nodded. " We pass the mill. I 11 
 drop you there, and make my call." 
 
 Mr. Proctor came back from his interview with 
 his superintendent with an amused perplexity in 
 his smile. " You re right," he commented. " The 
 men are ingratiatingly anxious to say good-morn 
 ing. I find this sudden popularity upsetting." 
 
 " I don t like it." The doctor s troubled look 
 was more emphatic than his speech. " I liked the 
 men s gruffness better. This cordiality marks con 
 trasts ; they ve something to cover. However, 
 make the most of the change." 
 
 " I doubt that their moods have so much signifi 
 cance," said Mr. Proctor easily. " I m an opti 
 mist. I still think that it s the weather." 
 
 " I hope you re right." The doctor s frown re 
 laxed. " I m growing old and suspicious. I ve 
 been too much alone." 
 
 They drove through the village briskly, for ten 
 miles lay between Wilsonport and Birch Creek. 
 Near the schoolhouse they passed Adrien Lauze- 
 one, his face set with the introspective look of one 
 to whom reveries are realities. 
 
 The doctor checked his horse. " You re late, 
 Adrien." 
 
 The boy lifted an absorbed face. " It will not 
 matter. Dr. Edmister, I am going to the univer 
 sity in the fall. Father promised." 
 
62 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Good ! Good ! " The doctor leaned over, and 
 laid a hand on Adrien s shoulder. " Make the 
 most of it, my lad." 
 
 " Why did I call Adrien 4 lad ! " he ejaculated 
 as they drove on. " That is a trick of old age. I 
 can t keep Katherine young by dwarfing her com 
 panions. Well, I m glad that s settled. It is 
 one responsibility the less." 
 
 " Or one the greater ? " 
 
 Dr. Edmister turned at the tone. " You think 
 his going unwise ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor s eyes and answer evaded the issue. 
 " We were talking of responsibilities. Adrien s 
 children may be the better, but what of him ? The 
 transitional generation has a hard time." 
 
 " It s been bred to hard times," said the doctor 
 with lessening protest, "and it has unwearied 
 brain and iron muscle. That s my optimism, if 
 you like. I have faith." 
 
 They were now in the forest, which opened to 
 them with the coolness of early morning. The 
 grass-grown ribbon that formed the road twined 
 through tree arches, and the sunlight dropped in 
 splashes through weaving boughs. Save where the 
 roadside gave them freedom, the moss-fringed 
 pines grew close packed as ranks of soldiery, and 
 the moist ground beneath held in its mould the re 
 cords of a day before the birth of time. At inter 
 vals the forest wall swayed inward to give foothold 
 to a clearing, a few acres where blackened stumps 
 disputed with the stunted grain. Each clearing 
 had its house, and at the sound of wheels, the log- 
 
WHILE THE SUN SHONE 63 
 
 framed doors blossomed children here flaxen as 
 the descendants of vikings ; there dark-browed as 
 Attila. They beleaguered the doctor s way, and 
 he called them by name, Hendreka, Franois, 
 Odil, Knud. 
 
 " They are my children," he said in response to 
 Mr. Proctor s surprise. " I helped bring them 
 into the world, and they look to me to take them 
 through it. I am their visible Providence." 
 
 " The Detieres live here," he remarked, as they 
 passed an unkempt clearing. " Did you say that 
 Louis had charge of your shingle mill ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Who put him there ? " 
 
 " My uncle, I think. Possibly Cole. He was 
 there when I came. You think he s not trust 
 worthy?" 
 
 The doctor flicked the roadside with his whip. 
 " He s a handsome animal. I did n t suppose that 
 he could keep sober long enough to draw his pay. 
 I ve never seen him work." 
 
 " He s drunk every Sunday, Cole tells me, but 
 he is a marvel of sobriety while the mill s running. 
 And he not only works himself, but he drives the 
 men. They seem afraid of him." 
 
 " I ve no doubt that they are. He has an ill- 
 omened reputation for skill with his knife. Do 
 you know what a set of men you have here ? " 
 
 " I know a little about it more than I care to 
 hear. They tell me it s bedlam on Saturday 
 nights. In the mean time the men cut my shin 
 gles." Mr. Proctor s tone spoke frank distaste. 
 
64 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The doctor turned in his seat, and looked sev 
 eral things that he did not say. 
 
 "You are an epicure still," he commented at 
 length ; and when the young man ventured to pro 
 test, he dropped the matter with a smile. 
 
 " I ve seen Detiere with Ferdinante Lauzeone 
 more than I like," the doctor said later. "Do 
 you know the girl ? " 
 
 " I think not. Is she Adrien s sister ? " 
 
 " Yes a year or two older. I wish that she 
 could be sent to school instead of Adrien. But 
 that the family would n t consider. The male en 
 throned is the motto of these people. Ferdinante 
 is a handsome woman, as blonde as Adrien is 
 dark. I admit that she and Louis Detiere to 
 gether suggest that the gods have come down from 
 Olympus and left their brains behind. Detiere 
 is as good to look at as a leopard and is very 
 like one." 
 
 The settlement of Birch Creek proved the deso 
 lation man can accomplish. Charred stumps had 
 been hacked away to make room for a huddle of 
 buildings, and the opening was wind-swept and 
 dreary. A mill and some dozen frame houses 
 formed the village, and the buildings crowded 
 together with unwholesome intimacy, their dark 
 timbers forbidding and unclean. 
 
 " A squalid hole ! " ejaculated Proctor, as they 
 drove along. " There is your leopard, doctor. 
 More like a Mrs. Jarley s Indian, I should say." 
 
 Leopard or Indian, Detiere s was a theatrical 
 figure six feet of hard-knitted bone and muscle 
 
WHILE THE SUN SHONE 65 
 
 erect and sinewed as a bronze cast. At sight of 
 the two men his strong white teeth gleamed in a 
 smile. He was proud of the mill. 
 
 " What s wrong at the schoolhouse, Detiere ? " 
 asked the doctor, as he stopped for Mr. Proctor on 
 his return. " Who boarded up the door ? " 
 
 "Me." The man s teeth showed undesirably 
 now, and his swart face grew crimson. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the doctor, with curving inflections. 
 " What s the trouble ? " 
 
 Detiere clenched an iron-muscled hand and 
 struck the door-casing. " That man Livingstone," 
 he said, with oaths. " He comes here and has 
 meetings. He makes me trouble. There is no 
 school. So ! When he comes again he find that 
 I make fast the door, and ask me why. See ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think that I see," returned the doctor. 
 The mental picture that he saw moved his ready 
 humor. " So Livingstone s been giving you 
 temperance lectures. Well, I never denied his 
 bravery, though I have questioned his judgment. 
 You d better take your board down, Detiere. Mr. 
 Livingstone is going away next week, and I may 
 want to come and talk to you myself." 
 
 Detiere s expression altered. " You say he go 
 away ? And you say you come to talk to us ? " He 
 picked up a board. " Then I do this to the board 
 at the door ! " He snapped the wood in his hands 
 as if it were a shaving. " I do this for the doctor. 
 See ? " The Belgian s smile was dazzling. 
 
 " My acquaintance with leopards is superficial," 
 said Proctor, as they drove home, " but I suppose 
 
66 THE LEGATEE 
 
 that their good-will is to be esteemed. You evi 
 dently have Detiere s confidence." 
 
 The doctor slapped his reins sharply. " I don t 
 want it," he protested. " The feeling is not recip 
 rocal. I prefer distrust to his liking. It is more 
 of a compliment, to my thinking." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE POT OF GOLD 
 
 " I THINK it is the weather," Mr. Proctor had 
 said, and the weeks succeeding confirmed his care 
 lessly good-humored faith. 
 
 " This lull is an anti-climax," he complained to 
 Dr. Edmister. " All that travesty of mystery when 
 I first came prepared me for a stirring life. This 
 is as sleepy as vacation time." 
 
 And summer was vacation time in very truth. 
 Wilsonport s days were yellow sunlight, its nights 
 were crystal flashing stars, and the calendar of the 
 weeks was written to the melody of bird song and 
 lapping water. 
 
 It was not alone that the gray earth smiled. All 
 animate life crept out at the touch of the sun and 
 lived to the uttermost the brief days between the 
 frosts. The forest was aflutter with wings and 
 moved to the soft stir of gentle-footed creatures 
 that came and went among its shadows. Even 
 self-absorbed humanity responded ; the village 
 sitting-rooms grew musty through disuse while 
 their owners spent the golden moments of their 
 leisure on doorstep or beach. 
 
 No wonder that the days drifted happily. These 
 weeks of outdoor life were the solvent that re- 
 
68 THE LEGATEE 
 
 moved much of the year s accumulation of rancor 
 and misunderstanding, and life became less arduous 
 in plan and meaning. Mouths curved to readier 
 laughter in the softer air, and Mr. Proctor met 
 no unfriendliness ; more, he found looks of greet 
 ing. He was perhaps unaware of how warmly he 
 smiled in turn. The witchery of the solstice was 
 in his blood, and the life that he had called " un 
 couth " caught transient beauty. 
 
 At the mill the men worked lazily, but with 
 apparent content. If the meeting in the feed loft 
 had had significance, its force seemed spent. 
 
 But Dr. Edrnister shook his head. 
 
 " A lull is n t a calm, Proctor," he said. " It s 
 merely a negative condition. There s the languor 
 of summer to reckon with, but I m convinced 
 there s something more. Lifting logs and lumber 
 for eleven hours does n t fit a man for thinking. 
 Watch your men. You 11 see that they are too 
 tired at night to talk, much less to foster an in 
 dependent idea. I don t mean that they have n t 
 brains, only men of force would attempt a pio 
 neer s life in this wilderness, but physical ex 
 haustion literally compels them to take their ideas 
 at second hand. The question is, Who has been 
 doing their thinking for them ? Whoever he is, 
 he s keeping quiet for a time." 
 
 The men were sitting on Dr. Edmister s veranda, 
 looking off over the village. They sat together 
 often now, and Mr. Proctor s feet had learned each 
 winding of the woodland trail. The silence that 
 fell after the last remark spoke loudly of the com 
 radeship between them. 
 
THE POT OF GOLD 69 
 
 " He may be away ? " asked Proctor at last. 
 He made no excuse for the hiatus. Indeed his 
 thoughts were elsewhere, idly following a blue-clad 
 figure that had left the village for the path along 
 the beach. The hue suggested Miss Torstenson s 
 holiday attire. Why not follow ? It was Sunday 
 afternoon, and such was the custom of the village. 
 The summer weeks had taught him a somewhat 
 detailed knowledge of Karen s wardrobe, and he 
 could not be mistaken now. 
 
 The doctor studied his finger tips, unconscious 
 of the other s lapse of thought. " So you think that 
 Livingstone was the God of the Machine ?" he 
 answered. " Well, it looks as if you were right, 
 but what did he what does he hope to gain ? 
 I repeat that I ve always thought him honest. I 
 suppose that I m unreasonable in this matter," he 
 went on, with a short laugh, " but the fact is, that 
 so long as I send Katherine to the village school, 
 I m forced to believe the best of the teacher. It s 
 the attitude of the ostrich, I 11 admit, but I don t 
 know what else to do with Katherine, so have no 
 refuge but to hide my head so long as the sand 
 holds out." 
 
 Mr. Proctor laughed at the plaint in his friend s 
 tone and dropped Karen from his consciousness. 
 
 " Why not make Livingstone the pupil ? " he 
 asked. Katherine had just passed, and the mem 
 ory of her severely composed face added spice to 
 the suggestion. He seldom saw the doctor s daugh 
 ter, but when he did her eyes assured him that he 
 was a cumbrance to the ground. " That arrange- 
 
70 THE LEGATEE 
 
 ment would be much to the young man s advan 
 tage," he pursued, " and would keep your daugh 
 ter busy. I ve seen Miss Katherine s books. It 
 can t be that Livingstone can teach her anything, 
 and I think that she d enjoy implanting a few 
 needed lessons in his mind." 
 
 The doctor nodded appreciatively. " Implanting 
 lessons would suit her perfectly," he said. " She s 
 at the age to be didactic to her finger tips. But 
 you re mistaken about Livingstone ; he can teach 
 her something. Her heaven-sent density in regard 
 to anything that concerns number is my salvation, 
 for she has the utmost respect for what she cannot 
 understand. Now mathematics is Livingstone s 
 strong tower, and so long as the theorems hold 
 out Katherine s attitude toward him will be tinged 
 with awe." 
 
 " And after Livingstone and the theorems ? " 
 " Oh, the deluge, I suppose," admitted the doc 
 tor uneasily. " I ve put off the day of reckoning 
 as long as possible, too long her aunts tell me, 
 but it can t be postponed more than a twelvemonth 
 more. Then she must go back to her mother s 
 people. I ve not sent her before because well, 
 I ve dreaded to part from her of course. Then 
 her aunts would have sent her to boarding-school 
 and college. I don t want her sent to college. She 
 knows as much now as it s wholesome to teach a 
 woman. She lacks experience, but that will come 
 soon enough when she reaches the outside world ; 
 then it will be 4 good-by to Wilsonport. In the 
 mean time I 11 make the most of her misgivings as 
 
THE POT OF GOLD 71 
 
 to the stability of two times two ; it gives me this 
 year." 
 
 " And you will follow her ? " Mr. Proctor s ques 
 tion hurried. Wilsonport looked suddenly lack 
 ing in perspective. 
 
 The doctor did not answer at once, and his face 
 showed gray. When he did reply his tone was 
 guarded to the point of severity. 
 
 "I think not. I belong here. When I said 
 my people it was not an idle phrase. I should n t 
 bear uprooting." 
 
 Mr. Proctor s glance swept the picture before 
 him : the village ; the mill ; the forest his forest ; 
 his mill. Did the village hold his people as well ? 
 The question found no welcome, but it tarried. 
 
 It was the next afternoon that Mr. Proctor, sit 
 ting in his office, found his door blocked with 
 shadow. He looked up to meet a woman s glance 
 studying him. 
 
 " Do you wish to see me ? " he asked, curiosity 
 overcoming his annoyance. "Won t you come 
 in?" 
 
 The young woman she seemed very young 
 despite her magnificent proportions ignored the 
 proffered chair. Her breath came brokenly, and 
 her fingers twitched as she braided them together. 
 
 " You think Adrien Lauzeone is working for 
 you ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Yes," Mr. Proctor said, mildly amused at the 
 contrast between question and manner. " Adrien 
 is packing shingles. You 11 find him at the back 
 of the mill." 
 
72 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " You will not find him at the back of the mill." 
 Her voice chanted triumph. " He has run from his 
 work. Go quick, and you will catch him. He is 
 at the lighthouse with " her head flung back 
 "with Katherine Edmister. I catch them. Go 
 quick ! " 
 
 The toss of the girl s head stirred a memory, 
 and Mr. Proctor s perplexity grew. " So, you are 
 Adrien s sister." His tone was grave. " I heard 
 that he had a sister a sister that worked hard 
 for him that he might go to schooL And now this 
 sister comes and asks me to catch her brother? " 
 
 The girl s fair skin grew red, but her mouth re 
 mained sullen. 
 
 " He works for you," she said doggedly, " and 
 runs away. It is Katherine Edmister. She makes 
 him do it. You go catch them. You will see." 
 
 The venom in her tone stirred the man to anger 
 that he would not analyze. " The shingle packers 
 are paid by the piece," he explained, turning away. 
 "If Adrien does not want to work, it is not my busi 
 ness. You must excuse me now. I am busy." 
 
 The girl walked out of the mill yard with a step 
 that admitted no consciousness of rebuff, and as 
 Mr. Proctor watched her, admiration strove with 
 his unreasoning vexation. If Detiere were a leop 
 ard, he thought, this woman was fitted for his mate. 
 He returned to his desk, but he could not work. 
 Briery and uncomfortable Katherine might be, but 
 she was still his friend s daughter. His loyalty to 
 her was in arms, and pushing away his work, he 
 started for the lighthouse. 
 
THE POT OF GOLD 73 
 
 Heinrich s home tipped the northern horn of the 
 bay, as the doctor s did the southern, and clung, 
 limpet-wise, to a tumbled mass of pine-clad rock. 
 The day was oppressive, close, and warm, with mut- 
 terings of thunder in the air, but at the lighthouse 
 the shadow had ever the coolness of a grotto, and 
 Mr. Proctor walked rapidly, spurred by the thought 
 of the comfort awaiting him. 
 
 Some rods from the lighthouse he slackened his 
 pace. The still air was pulsating to the throb of 
 Heinrich s violin, and it behooved the listener to 
 go softly, for Heinrich s violin, famed through the 
 forest land, sang seldom but at twilight, and never 
 save for those whom he held dear. 
 
 Mr. Proctor pushed the twigs from his pathway, 
 and parted the bushes in silence, till an opening in 
 the trees framed a picture that checked him sud 
 denly. In front of the lighthouse a table-rock, 
 polished by rain and wave to satin smoothness, hung 
 like a broad shelf over the water. On one end of 
 this platform lay a gayly patterned quilt, and on it, 
 as on a dais, Heinrich and his daughter sat en 
 throned, while in front of them, with steps light as 
 the quivering shadows from the trees above, Kath- 
 erine Edmister and Adrien Lauzeone waltzed 
 blithely to the lilt of the violin. Their slender 
 figures, silhouetted against the gray of lake and 
 sky, were lissome as the dancing shapes on Greek 
 entablatures, and their heads, chaplet-crowned with 
 leaves and golden-rod, suggested echoes of a day 
 when Pan held revel. 
 
 An unwary step brought Mr. Proctor into view, 
 
74 THE LEGATEE 
 
 und the music stopped with a crash. There was 
 a pause long enough for a quickly drawn breath 
 to catch and die, and in that space the man saw 
 determination born in Katherine s look and grow 
 to action. 
 
 She swept him a courtesy that brought her wreath- 
 twined curls to the level of his knee. 
 
 " Another suitor ? " Her eyes pleaded with him 
 to do his part. " This is the court of the Princess 
 Bertha. Good sir, what is your name ? " 
 
 There was no time to think, else he had turned 
 temptation s face aside. " Only a wayfarer " he 
 made his way to where the lame girl, Bertha, sat 
 upon her throne " Petruchio by name." He 
 turned to Katherine. " You will present me ? " 
 
 The blaze he was expecting lit her eyes, but she 
 said nothing, and answering the eagerness in Ber 
 tha s look, she named him gravely. 
 
 The humility of the man s bowed head was not 
 of manner only. Should this young girl shame him 
 in courtesy? He sought swiftly for words, that 
 she alone should understand, to hold his penitence. 
 Bertha was flushing into comeliness at his deference, 
 and her pleasure held him for a moment longer. 
 Then he turned to Katherine. 
 
 "Do I recognize Diana?" he asked. "The 
 arrows seem familiar. But tell me, .Goddess, why 
 not use your weapons in your own behalf ? You 
 Lave them ever barbed in the defense of others." 
 
 For the first time he heard her laugh spontane 
 ously. It was a sound that the others joined with 
 out asking why. 
 
THE POT OF GOLD 75 
 
 Adrien, meantime, was looking sullen, and pulled 
 impatiently at the garlands on his head and shoul 
 ders. Katherine turned to him, and Mr. Proctor 
 caught her whisper. " Don t, Adrien, it will hurt 
 Bertha. Perhaps our Princess will make a wreath 
 for her new courtier." She added the last sentence 
 that they all might hear. 
 
 " But court is over," Heinrich interrupted. 
 " Look ! " He dropped his violin and pointed to 
 a finger of shadow that lay across their feet. 
 
 The little group relaxed into easier attitudes. 
 " We hold court an hour," Katherine explained. 
 " Mr. Heinrich measures it by a new dial every 
 day. This afternoon it was the fir tree." 
 
 " May I come earlier another time ? " asked Mr. 
 Proctor as he found a seat at Bertha s feet. Work 
 might lie waiting for him at his office, but he had 
 forgotten. The village seemed far away. 
 
 There was no constraint in the silence that fol 
 lowed. The pleasure in Heinrich s face was in 
 itself a welcome that lacked no force through being 
 voiceless, and content was in the air. 
 
 " What s the matter with the shingles this after 
 noon, Adrien ? " Mr. Proctor went on, at length. 
 He was playing with the leaves in Bertha s lap, 
 and his query sounded idle. 
 
 Adrieu, who was stretched on the rock at Kath 
 erine s side, turned a smiling face toward his ques 
 tioner. " I am going away to-morrow going to 
 Madison." He whispered the words as if afraid 
 that he might hear his voice and wake. " This was 
 my last afternoon, so I was paid off, and came here. 
 I am going away." 
 
76 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The repetition of the last words held emotion, 
 and Mr. Proctor turned instinctively toward Kath- 
 erine. He regretted the look, for he surprised a 
 mist in the girl s upraised eyes. 
 
 She met his glance steadily. " Perhaps you can 
 help us," she said. " You saw us dancing. Was 
 it right ? Adrien will want to dance at the uni 
 versity, and I was trying to show him how to hold 
 his partner. I ve been studying the pictures in 
 the magazines to learn how. Did it look at all as 
 it should ? " 
 
 What had lowered her defenses ? This new and 
 submissive Katherine bred regret in Mr. Proctor s 
 mind. " You danced well, both of you," he said, 
 " but Adrien held you too closely. I wonder " 
 his tone, taught by his surprise, learned humility 
 " whether you would like me to show you the way 
 that I was taught." 
 
 Adrien looked a negative, but Katherine was on 
 her feet. 
 
 " Please do," she begged. " Now watch, Ad- 
 
 Heinrich picked up his violin slowly, and the 
 first notes wavered ; then his mouth closed firmly, 
 and his bow drew clearer tones. He must submit 
 to seeing Katherine with strangers ; the lesson was 
 as well learned now as later. 
 
 Mr. Proctor s step caught the measure with joy. 
 It was long since he had moved to the rhythm of 
 pleasure, and after his first feeling of exhilaration 
 had passed memories crowded. The rhythmic 
 swing brought back times and faces that claimed 
 
THE POT OF GOLD 77 
 
 him and that he had endeavored to forget. For a 
 moment a wave of remembrance obliterated his 
 surroundings, and the cadence of the waltz stood 
 to him for all that he had forsworn, the ameni 
 ties and luxuries that seemed once more vital; the 
 voices of women and the companionship of men 
 the men and women who were of his past. 
 
 The music jarred. 
 
 " Is it that I go on ? " Heinrich suggested. 
 
 Mr. Proctor shook his head and seated the girl 
 on the quilted mosaic of the throne with a bow that 
 was a survival of his reverie. 
 
 " I have nothing to teach you. You dance be 
 yond comparison," he announced with deliberation 
 that seemed the flower of compliment. " I would 
 give something to dance with you on a good floor." 
 
 The girl blossomed under his approbation. He 
 had never praised her before. " Heinrich s violin 
 taught me." There was new shyness in her tone. 
 " I never danced anywhere else." 
 
 Heinrich smiled at the violin he was caressing. 
 " The gulls taught you," he murmured, " and the 
 winds, and the clouds." 
 
 " She skates the same way," said Adrien im 
 personally. Then he turned away his face and 
 drew a long breath that wavered. "I won t be 
 here to skate with you this winter, Katherine. 
 You 11 have to find some one else." His attempt 
 at nonchalance failed pitiably. 
 
 Katherine s eyes again grew misty. " Look," 
 she exclaimed, quickly defensive ; " see the rainbow 
 over the lake ! " 
 
78 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The clouds, which throughout the afternoon had 
 pushed rounded shoulders above the horizon line, 
 were now massed in a bank in the southeast, but 
 above them, spanning the arch from lake to forest, 
 hung a rainbow, its color thrown into relief by the 
 threatening shade below. 
 
 "See, Adrien," Katherine went on, her voice 
 steadier, " the foot of the bow lies to the south, 
 just where you are going. You 11 find your pot 
 of gold." 
 
 " Is it gold ? " asked Mr. Proctor. " I thought 
 glory was what you were seeking." The sympathy 
 in his voice made his words kindly. 
 
 " It s the same thing, Katherine says," the boy 
 answered. " It s what we want most." 
 
 Katherine nodded, and her mouth wore a smile 
 born of her own thoughts. "That s what it 
 means to me," she said. The peace of the after 
 noon seemed to bring fullness of speech. " I think 
 that the gold at the foot of the rainbow must 
 have different forms for all of us. It can t be a 
 yellow metal for everybody. It s the thing that 
 looks fairest. Now Adrien s pot of gold is an 
 education." 
 
 " And yours, Miss Katherine ? " The question 
 came from Mr. Proctor. 
 
 Katherine s mouth broke into its irregular teas 
 ing smile. " I don t know," she confessed. " It s 
 one thing, then another. Sometimes it s to try my 
 wings, to learn what s waiting for me there " her 
 comprehensive gesture swept the horizon. " Some 
 time it s power, only I don t know just what power 
 
THE POT OF GOLD 79 
 
 is. It s never money, as yours is, for I ve seen 
 too little to have it mean much to me." 
 
 " So my pot of gold is money, is it ? " Mr. 
 Proctor s voice held a hint of abstraction that 
 made him suddenly remote. " Well, that s a defi 
 nite goal at least. Yours is n t." 
 
 " Yes, yours is definite, and you 11 reach it," 
 said the girl with the conviction of a seer. "I 
 know, for look at the rainbow. It stops just over 
 your lumber piles." 
 
 Mr. Proctor laughed outright. Was this child 
 or woman ? At all events, she harbored generous 
 impulses, despite her thorns. He was glad for Dr. 
 Edmister s sake that he had seen his daughter s 
 softer side. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A BRIDGE IS CROSSED 
 
 THE Buffalo steamer landed at the pier the next 
 day, and the crowd of travelers peering over her 
 rail saw a leave-taking that they called picturesque. 
 Adrien was saying good-by to Wilsonport. 
 
 " I wish these people would n t stare at Ferdi- 
 nante," Dr. Edmister grumbled to Proctor, who 
 was looking over the freight. " How we drop our 
 reservations when we turn sight-seers ! " 
 
 Mr. Proctor turned. " Don t miss the best part 
 of the play yourself," he said with lowered voice. 
 " Have n t you seen Livingstone and his impressive 
 friend ? My vacation is over. Methinks I hear 
 the tocsin." 
 
 " Livingstone ? I had forgotten it was time for 
 him." The doctor s tone was almost reprovingly 
 matter of fact. " Those trunks suggest that his 
 friend has come to stay." 
 
 The friend had indeed come to stay. He was 
 Dr. Griggs, the lounging audience was at once in 
 formed, and he had chosen Wilsonport as a home, 
 attracted thereto by the beauty of its surround 
 ings and the intelligence of its people. 
 
 Mr. Proctor, included in this comprehensive in 
 troduction and biography, was conscious from the 
 
A BRIDGE IS CROSSED 81 
 
 eyes about him that he was present at an epoch- 
 making moment. Here, at last, was a man who 
 had corne from the outside because he wished. 
 The situation was new. 
 
 Equally new was Dr. Griggs himself : his speech 
 and his raiment both carefully ornate re 
 flected worlds not realized in the former standards 
 of the village. His very walk, as he led a proces 
 sion from the pier, lent to the sawdust-covered 
 street an air that was dimly metropolitan. 
 
 Mr. Proctor, following with outward meekness 
 in the rear of this attendant column, was momenta 
 rily impatient of Dr. Edmister s kindly generali 
 ties as to the benefits of having two physicians in 
 the village. Dr. Griggs s apologetically pompous 
 back seemed, in some way, even more irritating 
 than his face. Were there no boundaries to Dr. 
 Edmister s tolerance ? 
 
 Mr. Proctor s question would have been justified 
 to his own mind could he have heard a conversa 
 tion of a week later. Livingstone and George 
 Cole were in the mill yard, and their talk was of 
 a shining sign, large of frame and gilt of letter, 
 that announced to him who ran the residence of 
 Arthur Griggs, M. D., Physician and Surgeon. 
 
 Mr. Cole s remarks discouraged argument. 
 " Dr. Edmister s good enough for me," he an 
 nounced, with frowning brows. 
 
 Mr. Livingstone s eyes did not flinch. " Per 
 haps," he said, " but Dr. Edmister countenances 
 spirituous liquors. Dr. Griggs is a consecrated 
 man and a teetotaler. Remembering this, can a 
 man like you stop to choose between them ? " 
 
82 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Cole looked stolidly distressed. He had no arts 
 at his command to hide his discomfiture, and Liv 
 ingstone pressed his point. 
 
 " Think of your duty as an example to the men 
 you are employing," he urged. 
 
 Cole s slower wits seized at the loophole with 
 an eagerness that proved his mental disturbance. 
 " I don t employ the men," he explained. " Mr. 
 Proctor does that." 
 
 The schoolmaster ignored the evasion. "It 
 should not be necessary for me to point out to you 
 the straight road of salvation," he said severely. 
 " If you fail in this matter it is because you have 
 sold yourself to the Mammon of unrighteous 
 ness." 
 
 An illuminating beam of humor struggled 
 through the clouds of Cole s mind. " You ve 
 called Mr. Proctor Mammon before," he remarked, 
 snapping his fingers, " but what has that to do 
 with your Dr. Griggs ? " 
 
 The other s lips tightened. " It has this to do 
 with it : Mr. Proctor is an atheist, an oppressor of 
 the poor. You know his past. If you accept his 
 blood-stained money, the least you can do is to 
 consecrate it to better uses. And Dr. Edmister 
 is in league with him. He is a man without " 
 
 " Look out ! " Cole interrupted with emphasis 
 that answered for an oath. " Let Dr. Edmister 
 alone." He raised a hand that clenched uncon 
 sciously. 
 
 Livingstone caught the upraised hand and 
 pointed with it to a man who was working near 
 
A BRIDGE IS CROSSED 83 
 
 them. "Look at Knud Halverson," he com 
 manded. " He was the best trimmer you had in 
 the mill ; you said so yourself. Look at him now ! 
 One hand gone, and all he can do is to drive the 
 dump-cart. And it was drink that did it. He 
 never would have lost his hand if he d been sober, 
 and yet you try to tell me that Dr. Edmister is a 
 good friend to the men." 
 
 " But Dr. Edmister tries to keep the men from 
 drinking." 
 
 " Yes, and prescribes whiskey ! " Livingstone 
 kicked the sawdust. " I tell you the only friend 
 the men have is the one who practices what he pre 
 tends to preach. Does Dr. Edmister sign the 
 pledge ? No, he is too superior to need restraints 
 of that kind. He and Mr. Proctor are run in the 
 same mould. They are in league, I tell you, to 
 debauch and destroy the working-man. Are you 
 with them or not ? " 
 
 Cole walked to a pile of lumber and looked it 
 over with deliberation. When he returned his eyes 
 were steady. " You ve said enough, Livingstone. 
 And Mr. Proctor is my boss. You can remember 
 that." 
 
 " I can remember that you are pledged to a 
 master called Christ," returned the other gravely. 
 " You, too, will remember it some day." 
 
 44 1 have never forgotten it," said Cole ; but 
 though his voice was firm, his mind was troubled. 
 It was true that Dr. Edmister would not sign the 
 pledge. And Livingstone was right, too, about 
 the whiskey. The tyrannous saws exacted clear 
 
84 THE LEGATEE 
 
 eyes and steady brains. Yet did this bear on Dr. 
 Griggs ? It was an unquiet heart that the super 
 intendent carried back with him to his cottage that 
 evening. 
 
 He found Katherine Edmister in the kitchen 
 with Olive, and the sound of her laughter light 
 ened his frowning eyes. 
 
 "Father has gone to Birch Creek," she an 
 nounced, " and I m to stay here till he calls for 
 me. Will he ever let me grow up, do you think ? " 
 
 Mr. Cole looked at her with puzzled intentness. 
 " You look more grown up now, someway. I no 
 ticed it when I met you in the store the other day. 
 What is the matter? Don t you" he paused, 
 and his tone grew sincerely apprehensive " don t 
 you feel well? " 
 
 Katherine flushed. Outspoken affection had not 
 been common enough in her life to enable her to 
 meet it without embarrassment, and the moisture 
 that blurred her eyes taught her that she had been 
 fighting loneliness. 
 
 " It s my hair, I think," she said, trying to frown 
 down Olive s laughter. " I ve been putting it 
 up lately, and of course it makes me look older. 
 There ! " She drew out a handful of hairpins and 
 shook the short curls over her shoulders. " Is that 
 better ? " 
 
 Mr. Cole s hand checked his wife s protest. 
 "Yes," he replied, with disproportionate gravity, 
 " that is better." He could not have explained 
 his own feeling, but the thought of Katherine as a 
 woman seemed, in some formless way, to add to 
 
A BRIDGE IS CROSSED 85 
 
 the perplexities of the afternoon. His sense of the 
 comfortable stability of his surroundings was gone ; 
 his moorings of the accustomed had been shaken. 
 
 " We 11 have to hurry and do the dishes," said 
 Mrs. Cole as they finished supper. " It s choir 
 practice to-night." 
 
 Katherine had been looking absent. " I 11 wash 
 the dishes, Olive," she said. " I d better not go to 
 the church with you, for father may come for me 
 early." 
 
 " But you 11 be lonesome." Mrs. Cole s protest 
 was faint. An evening s respite from the treadmill 
 of dishwashing was not to be put by lightly. 
 
 A laugh of affectionate comprehension chased 
 the listlessness from Katherine s face. " I m 
 never lonesome," she protested, as she cleared the 
 table, " and then I ve Chevalier. Please go." 
 
 " Are you going to stop for Karen ? " she asked, 
 as Mrs. Cole put on her hat. " If you are, I 11 
 walk as far as that with you. I have n t seen her 
 this week." 
 
 Mrs. Cole dropped her shawl and looked as 
 tonished. " Why, Karen just went by with Mr. 
 Proctor. Oh, we never stop for Karen now." 
 
 " Now ? " Katherine echoed. The stab of sur 
 prise which confused her made her use the question 
 mark, which she instantly regretted. 
 
 " Since Karen and Mr. Proctor have been keep 
 ing company," Olive explained with relish. " You 
 don t mean to say that Karen has n t told you. He 
 walks to church with her all the time." 
 
 " I have n t seen Karen much lately," Katherine 
 
86 THE LEGATEE 
 
 quickly defended, " and she would n t tell me, any 
 way. Why, I I would n t want her to tell me." 
 
 " She tells other people fast enough," said Mrs. 
 Cole triumphantly. She was fond of Katherine, 
 but this was a situation that she could not resist. 
 " I should think that you d feel kind of queer 
 about it." 
 
 "Karen has been very busy," Katherine per 
 sisted. " I live up on the hill, you know," she went 
 on, with a somewhat wavering smile, " so that I never 
 hear any news. Let me fix your shawl. I don t 
 suppose Karen thinks that she has anything to 
 tell." 
 
 Katherine washed the dishes and swept the 
 kitchen in a stormy frame of mind. The storm was 
 at herself, for she was unused to pain and resented 
 it. Karen had failed her and the world was awry, 
 but the sharpest sting lay in her sudden bewildered 
 admission of her own unhappiness and that at 
 so trivial a hurt. She raged at her weakness ; she 
 would show more self-control. What was it to her 
 that Karen had found another friend ? It was what 
 she had expected, but she had put it off into the 
 future, as something that might occur when she was 
 so old that she would not care, for she had an ill- 
 defined belief that womanhood and its resulting 
 complement of marriage brought with it a blessed 
 callousness of heart and mind. Had her belief 
 been put in words she would have scorned it, but 
 it was none the less an undercurrent of her thought. 
 Age brought wisdom ; it must also bring indiffer 
 ence else how could people live ! 
 
A BRIDGE IS CROSSED 87 
 
 The September evening was chilly, and the work 
 done, Katherine still sat in the kitchen, her feet on 
 the fender of the cooking-stove. " I m never lone 
 some," she had said to Olive but why had not 
 Karen been to see her ? Chevalier climbed into 
 her lap and laid his head against her arm with a 
 questioning sigh. He ignored the tear he would 
 have liked to lick away and sighed again, while 
 Katherine patted him mechanically. He had served 
 as comforter before ; he had no instinct now to tell 
 him that his power was waning. 
 
 The sound of steps approaching the kitchen 
 brought Katherine to realities, and she opened the 
 door without waiting for a knock. It was not her 
 father she knew, for his conscientious use of the 
 formal front entrance was his one violation of vil 
 lage traditions, but it must be some of the neigh 
 bors, and the doorstep, an uncertainly balanced 
 shingle bolt, had often bred dark misgiving in her 
 mind. 
 
 The light from the open door showed the dark 
 face and unkempt curls of Louis Detiere. The red 
 silk handkerchief around his neck was not more 
 brilliant than the scarlet of his lips. 
 
 " I want Cole," he said sharply. His disturbed 
 glance went over Katherine s head and searched 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " Mr. Cole is not here," replied Katherine with 
 equal sharpness. She knew the man by sight, and 
 his reputation was a matter for the disciplining of 
 children. " Be good or Louis Detiere will catch 
 you " was a compelling phrase. 
 
88 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The man closed his teeth. "He has gone to 
 Livingstone s meeting. I will drag him away." 
 
 " He has gone to choir meeting." 
 
 " Choir meeting ? So? He tell you that ? Choir 
 meeting ! " 
 
 The insult of the man s laugh darkened the gray 
 of Katherine s eyes. " Mr. Cole is at the church, 
 Mr. Detiere. If you want him you can find him 
 there. I must close the door." 
 
 The man looked down with sudden recognition 
 of her presence. " He lied," he said roughly. " The 
 church where he go is with Livingstone, in Tor- 
 stenson s feed loft." 
 
 " The church where he went is on the next cor 
 ner. Take your foot away, please. It is cold, and 
 I am going to close the door." 
 
 The easy superiority of the girl s tone waked a 
 chord of association and brought the man s eyes 
 back to her face. " So ? You are Dr. Edmister s 
 girl," he said, with a chuckle of comprehension, 
 and a vagrant impulse moved his hand to his 
 cap. 
 
 " I am Miss Edmister," returned Katherine with 
 patient tolerance. 
 
 He drew his foot away. " You look like you tell 
 the truth." There was wonder in the admission. 
 " Where is Livingstone ? " 
 
 The girl ignored the first part of his remark, and 
 a little sigh escaped her. Her thoughts were still 
 with Karen, and her speech with Detiere was taking 
 but a fraction of her mind. " I don t know where 
 you 11 find Mr. Livingstone," she said. " Not at 
 
A BRIDGE IS CROSSED 89 
 
 the church, for he does n t sing. Will you leave 
 a message ? " 
 
 The patronage of her manner brought a gleam to 
 the man s eyes. He was accustomed to dominate 
 women and was tired of it. There were women 
 living who could have told Katherine, had they 
 seen his face, that she had won the perilous dis 
 tinction of Louis Detiere s admiration. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I have a message. Tell Cole 
 that Livingstone s little bonfire didn t burn. I 
 made it so ! " His foot brushed the step in vig 
 orous pantomime. " Tell him that, and if he knows 
 what I mean " He stopped, and his laugh was 
 suggestive. " Well ! " 
 
 Katherine s mind was with him now and was 
 alert. " What do you mean ? I can take no mes 
 sage like that. What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean what I say. I found the fire, and I 
 did so!" 
 
 " But what fire ? This is child s play." 
 
 " So ? Child s play ? " He was master again, 
 and his tone swaggered. " But children should 
 not have matches. See? When I see Living 
 stone " The break, which stood with him for 
 matter which transcended speech, again supplied 
 his meaning. 
 
 " Stop ! " The girl barred his exit with uncon 
 sciousness of gesture. " Stop ! You say that Mr. 
 Livingstone lighted a fire and that you put it out. 
 Where was the fire ? " 
 
 " Under a lumber pile," the man answered, to 
 his own surprise. The girl s eyes were looking 
 
90 THE LEGATEE 
 
 directly into his, and he went on. "I was go 
 ing through the yards, and I found it. There was 
 shavings there, and they smelled of oil." 
 
 " Oh ! " There was a shiver in the monosyllable. 
 " How dare you accuse Mr. Livingstone ? Why 
 do you do it?" 
 
 The Belgian was said not to like questions, but 
 he answered this one. " Livingstone hates Proc 
 tor." The girl s eyes had not left his face, yet 
 he knew that she did not see him. How could he 
 make her conscious that he, Louis Detiere, was 
 there? "I will find Livingstone," he blustered. 
 "Then" 
 
 He had succeeded. Katherine s eyes had caught 
 the gleam of the knife in his belt, and the look that 
 met his now held, not only knowledge of his pres 
 ence, but memory of his repute. 
 
 " Don t look for Mr. Livingstone to-night," she 
 begged. " Let it go till to-morrow. Think it over. 
 You will see that you are wrong. Even if, as you 
 say, he dislikes Mr. Proctor, he would n t destroy 
 property. It is preposterous." 
 
 " Who did it ? " asked the man. 
 
 " I don t know," she said with less assurance, 
 " but it was n t Mr. Livingstone. Why " her 
 thoughts took a new leap " did you want Mr. 
 Cole?" 
 
 The Belgian shrugged his shoulders. " He is 
 the mill boss. Then there is meetings to-night at 
 Torstenson s. I wanted to find if he is there." 
 
 He turned away, and again the lamp s rays 
 pointed to his knife. Was it impulse that cap- 
 
A BRIDGE IS CROSSED 91 
 
 tured Katherine ? Her own voice was a stranger 
 when she spoke again. 
 
 " Listen ! You ve done your duty. Let it rest 
 there. I will tell Mr. Cole. Please go home and 
 leave the matter to me." 
 
 Detiere looked at her, and his reply was per- 
 tinent. Why ? " 
 
 " Because because you will make trouble if 
 you see Mr. Livingstone to-night. You are angry 
 and will make a scene. Then aU the village will 
 know. No matter if you are wrong, it will hurt 
 the school. No, I know that you don t care for 
 the school, but you do care for for order. You 
 are the head of the shingle mill. You can under 
 stand how important it is that Mr. Livingstone 
 should have obedience. Please go." 
 
 The Belgian frowned. The girl was dictating 
 to him. He stared at her rudely, till, of a sudden, 
 his mood was shaken by unextinguishable laugh 
 ter. How small she looked! He measured his 
 own inches, and his amusement grew. Go ? Of 
 course he would go. He had never been thwarted 
 by a woman, and he enjoyed seeing himself obey 
 
 surprises were precious to Louis Detiere. 
 
 " I go," he repeated, as he clicked the gate. 
 " You tell Cole that I go. That I left my business 
 for a girl to do." His trumpet call of laughter 
 at the thought rolled echoingly down the deserted 
 street. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 WHILE THE PENDULUM WAS SWINGING 
 
 THE mind that Katherine carried back with her 
 into the kitchen was not the unobtrusive handmaid 
 that was wont to do her bidding. It led her into 
 alien paths. She had been too much absorbed in 
 winning her point with Detiere to think of all that 
 it involved ; now its import left her breathless. 
 
 Some one had tried to burn the mill the mill 
 that fed the men ! Her anger struggled with her 
 fear. How Mr. Proctor must be hated, how un 
 justly ! A sudden allegiance to him sprang to 
 life. He was no taskmaster. She saw his face 
 again, as she had seen it a week before upon the 
 lighthouse rock, and its memory rebuked her. 
 Clean-drawn and spirited it was, but not unkind. 
 He was her father s friend. She had never 
 thought of him in that regard before. 
 
 She walked the floor. How could she warn 
 him ? She must see him see him at once. It 
 was not enough that Mr. Cole would tell him in 
 the morning. So wanton an attempt upon his 
 property should not be hidden even for the night. 
 The room choked her as she thought, and she 
 opened the door. The night was dark, and the 
 broad squares of light that marked the church 
 
WHILE THE PENDULUM WAS SWINGING 93 
 
 seemed beckoningly near. Mr. Cole was there, 
 Olive, Mr. Proctor perhaps. She could walk 
 there in a moment and see them all. She longed 
 for their companionship. If she could share the 
 burden of her news, the night would seem less 
 black. 
 
 She stepped outside. Her father would not 
 come for her that night. When he was detained 
 as late as this, he left her till the morning. The 
 church was but a few rods away. Why hesitate ? 
 She would sleep better if she felt that Mr. Proctor 
 knew. 
 
 The door of the church was open, and she halted 
 on the steps. The group within was larger than 
 she had expected. She had no mind to show her 
 evident excitement to so many, so would wait 
 for the meeting to disband. She watched them 
 idly. They were not practicing, for the moment, 
 and Mr. Cole and Olive, their faces severe with 
 importance, were selecting hymns. Mr. Proctor, 
 with Karen, stood near the door ; his attitude 
 showed that he had just come in, and the girl, 
 with shining eyes, seemed begging him to stay. 
 
 The girl watching outside felt her chin lift de 
 fensively. Karen looked eager, and Katherine s 
 heart went out in protest. Karen must not try so 
 palpably to entertain this man must not show 
 him that his admiration was a thing to covet ; for 
 it was all a matter of indifference to him. The 
 girl without knew, instantly and surely, that his 
 thoughts were elsewhere. It was Karen s flushed 
 beauty that appealed to him, and Katherine felt, 
 
94 THE LEGATEE 
 
 with swift resentment, that the girl s words but 
 barely reached his ear. 
 
 Her jealousy for Karen showed a new phase 
 now a conquering one. Friendship was in arms. 
 She, too, loved Karen s beauty, but she loved the 
 girl as well the girl whom this man s supercili 
 ous blindness would never let him see. The old 
 irritation that his presence bred increased four 
 fold. How calm he looked, untouched by all the 
 drama of the enwrapping night ! What that he 
 knew nothing of it? He should know. Such 
 ignorance as his came only from a callous uncon 
 cern of all but his own pleasure. His lack of 
 knowledge was the secret of the crime. 
 
 And when he did know what then ? He had 
 turned from Karen now, and his glance, idly 
 wandering, seemed to meet her own. It chal 
 lenged all her pulses. It was a firm glance, she 
 acknowledged, but hard the glance of a man 
 who would exact his pound for pound. 
 
 She turned away to the village. Its homes were 
 sleeping. How pitifully small and poor they 
 looked in the dim light! And the tired hearts 
 within them ! Unreasoning, childish, wicked, per 
 haps, but always tired. A clutch of mother pity 
 seized the girl, who herself could not remember 
 the pressure of a mother s arms. Her village 
 the people who loved her I How could she betray 
 them to this man ? 
 
 A step behind her made her conscious of the 
 tears upon her cheeks, and she turned. 
 
 " Mr. Livingstone ! " she cried. " Mr. Living 
 stone ! " 
 
WHILE THE PENDULUM WAS SWINGING 95 
 
 She was heedless of her tears now, as she ran 
 down the steps with eager greeting. Here was 
 the one man who could help her, and she could 
 talk to him freely. Bigoted or not, he loved the 
 village ; he would understand. 
 
 He listened to her story in absolute silence. If 
 the emotion that she had expected was not in his 
 face, she was then too self-absorbed to miss it. At 
 mention of Detiere his face grew dark. 
 
 " Why did you interfere ? " he interrupted. 
 
 She stopped, her narrative checked rudely. 
 For a moment she, too, wondered why. Her rea 
 sons, cogent before, seemed slipping from her 
 grasp. " Why why, to prevent a scene." Then, 
 as Livingstone s expression grew more inquiring, 
 " The man will see, when he comes to himself to 
 morrow, that he was wrong, that you know no 
 thing about it." 
 
 " No, I know nothing," he echoed. He still 
 looked uncomprehending. " Nothing at all." 
 
 Katherine looked at him. His denial grated, 
 and she had the sudden forlorn consciousness that 
 she stood alone. Of course he knew nothing. 
 Why should he think it necessary to tell her 
 so? 
 
 " But I promised to tell Mr. Cole," she said, 
 following her own thought, " and now I don t know 
 what to do. Mr. Cole will have to tell Mr. Proc 
 tor that will be his duty and then " She 
 made a hopeless gesture. 
 
 " What can Mr. Proctor do ? " asked the man. 
 " He does n t know who did it." There was a hint 
 
96 THE LEGATEE 
 
 of complacence in his voice, and Katherine s an 
 swer came with frowning haste. 
 
 " He will find out who did it. He will find out 
 or lose his mill in trying. Can t you see how 
 strong he is and how determined? He is merci 
 less too. He is n t a bad man, but the life here 
 is a jest to him. The men are puppets in his eyes, 
 because he knows nothing about them ; he does n t 
 want to know. Oh, if he should discover this 
 can t you see what a crime it is ! he would never 
 be able to make excuses. If I should tell father, 
 he would be afraid of partisanship and would say, 
 Tell Mr. Proctor, but Oh, is n t there some 
 other way ? " 
 
 Mr. Livingstone s attention had wandered. He 
 had drawn nearer the steps and was looking in at 
 the church door. " Proctor s in there," he an 
 nounced. 
 
 " I know. That s why I m here. I intended 
 to tell Mr. Proctor when he came out, but " A 
 new idea claimed her, and her face lighted with 
 relief. " Why, Mr. Livingstone, Mr. Detiere said 
 that you held meetings with the men. If you do 
 that, you can protect the people from themselves ; 
 you can make them see how wicked this is how 
 wicked and useless. They don t think. How can 
 they? But you can teach them better. If you 
 will do that, I won t need to tell Mr. Cole. Will 
 you?" 
 
 Mr. Livingstone s thoughts were still with the 
 group within, and his moody eyes said that he did 
 not find them pleasing. " The prosperity of the 
 
WHILE THE PENDULUM WAS SWINGING 97 
 
 wicked is an offense," he said absently. " Christ 
 overthrew the tables of the money changers." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Livingstone, you surely can t mean 
 What would become of the village if the mill 
 should burn ? " 
 
 The perplexed horror of the girl s tone waked 
 the man. " I don t mean that I approve," he said 
 with some eagerness. " I think that such an at 
 tempt is ill-advised ill-advised. I shall tell the 
 men so. You won t tell Mr. Cole ? " 
 
 The girl s perplexity took on recoil. That re 
 quest should not have come from him. The group 
 within the church was moving, and she watched it 
 breathlessly. It was now or not at all. 
 
 " What can I do ? " she asked aloud. " What is 
 right ? Yes, Mr. Livingstone, I must tell Mr. 
 Cole. That is the only way." She stopped. Mr. 
 Proctor was coming down the aisle, and his glance, 
 searching the night, seemed once more to fall upon 
 her own. Amusement lurked in his mouth and 
 altered the lines of his eyes amusement he had 
 turned his back upon the others to conceal. 
 
 The pendulum swung back. " No, I am wrong." 
 Her tone was unwavering now. " It will be wiser 
 to leave this all with you. You can help the men 
 and watch them. Then I won t need to tell Mr. 
 Cole, will I ? You will promise ? " 
 
 The young man s solemn eyes turned full upon 
 her. " You do not need to say that," he rebuked. 
 " My life is one long promise to help the men to 
 do the thing the Lord deems best." 
 
 " The thing the Lord deems best." Katherine 
 
98 THE LEGATEE 
 
 echoed the words as she ran down the street. Was 
 that what she had done ; or had she meddled ? 
 
 She reached the house and stood upon the 
 door-step waiting. The darkness was a welcome 
 shelter for her sudden fear and shame. To what 
 was she committed ? The step from girlhood out 
 
 she recalled, mechanically, the ancient phrase 
 
 was already of the past. The last few hours 
 had put her far beyond the line. Her first deceit 
 
 and why ? Oh, but the people ! They loved 
 her father ; they were worth it all. 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 MISTRESS QUIXOTE 
 
 "A UNION temperance meeting will be held 
 in the schoolhouse Saturday, September 9th, at 
 eight o clock. Dr. Griggs and other prominent 
 speakers will address the meeting. All are cor 
 dially invited. Come and bring your friends." 
 
 This notice, printed on brown wrapping paper, 
 was seen the next morning nailed to the hacked 
 tree trunk that served as a hitching post in front 
 of Torstenson s store, and it did its work so well 
 that the succeeding evening found the schoolhouse 
 crowded. 
 
 It was not that the subject of temperance was 
 alluring, that was, indeed, an aged and distaste 
 ful tale, but what it lacked in novelty the name 
 of Dr. Griggs supplied. He was said, by those 
 attending the mid-week meetings, to have a gift 
 for prayer. Such a reputation did not seem com 
 patible with his worldly garb, and controversy 
 flourished. Temperance too ? The term gathered 
 social importance from association with his name. 
 
 The meeting justified anticipation. " Dr. 
 Griggs is a grand speaker," the women said, as 
 they went home that evening, and their husbands, 
 stumbling in front, mumbled an affirmative. They 
 
100 THE LEGATEE 
 
 were curiously stirred. They had heard little of 
 temperance, but much of conflict, of aggression, 
 and the fife that led the singing had called them to 
 their feet, not once, but many times. The familiar 
 strains of " Hold the Fort " became a war cry ; 
 they sang it till their bodies swung to and fro to 
 the rhythm of its marching time. They had not 
 been asked to sign the pledge ; they had been 
 summoned to battle, and they thrilled with the 
 conviction that they must unite and overthrow 
 something. Dr. Griggs had spoken of oppression. 
 They grasped the word. They heard too of fight 
 ing and of faith, and the alliteration stirred them. 
 Liquor was not their only foe. Before they went 
 home they rose in a body and voted to continue 
 the meetings. 
 
 It was several evenings later when Mr. Proctor 
 came in. Karen and George Cole had spoken to 
 him urgently about attending the meetings, and 
 he had laid aside his books and pipe to pleasure 
 them. He was late, and the audience had just risen. 
 
 " Am I a soldier of the cross ? " 
 
 they asked with fervor. 
 
 The fife was leading as usual, its piercing note 
 dominant and compelling, but as Mr. Proctor 
 entered the fifer faltered and lost his place. It 
 was only for a moment, but the scarcely apprecia 
 ble break had done its work, and the audience, 
 swayed by an emotion that the fifer had set free, 
 stopped singing and turned toward the newcomer 
 with frowns. A hiss came from the rear of the 
 
MISTRESS QUIXOTE 101 
 
 room, and though it was smothered by a friendly 
 hand, mouths shaped to answer it with others. 
 
 One could have counted heart beats. The sullen 
 eyes that met Mr. Proctor s were hostile, and as he 
 faced them his own grew scornfully defiant. The 
 notes of the fife dropped with a wail, and a little 
 child, holding fast to its mother s gown, began to 
 cry. Hands were clenching, in all that room 
 one man stood at bay, when a voice, uncertain 
 and faltering, began to sing, 
 
 " Rock of ages, cleft for me. " 
 
 In the hushed room the faint notes echoed like 
 smothered memories. Katherine Edmister was 
 singing, and her girlish face took for the moment 
 the contour of her father s graver one. The people 
 breathed hard. 
 
 " Let me hide myself in Thee. " 
 
 They had sung that over many a coffin, and Dr. 
 Edmister, haggard from watching, had stood be 
 side them. Were they forgetting him now ? If 
 so, the face that memory summoned held no re 
 buke. And this was his daughter. Their voices 
 rushed to her rescue. 
 
 " Save me, Lord ! and make me pure, " 
 
 sang voices that were husky. A woman standing 
 next to Mr. Proctor opened her hymn book and 
 offered it to him with a deprecatory smile. He 
 hesitated a moment, then his look, too, softened, 
 and taking the book he began to sing. Wilson- 
 port had never heard him sing, and the deep notes 
 that made their way through the sound already 
 
102 THE LEGATEE 
 
 rising added new tension to the air. He was sing 
 ing as he had never sung in the days when he 
 roared out the refrain to a college chorus, for the 
 melody was a vent to a perturbed heart. The hurt 
 of the moment before had been a real one, and he 
 was combatant and sore. The isolation that he 
 had felt at his superintendent s wedding had not 
 lost force in the succeeding six months, and to 
 night it did not seem a thing for shrugs and 
 laughter. Why submit to it longer ? And yet - 
 
 " Simply to Thy cross I cling " 
 
 sang the voices. There was no hostility in them 
 now, and with the healing of each word the re* 
 sentment in Mr. Proctor s mind died. He looked 
 around, and timid glances of friendliness met him. 
 
 There was nothing in his answering look to 
 send their eyes away. 
 
 George Cole rose at the conclusion of the sing 
 ing. His eyes were lustrous, and his mouth wore 
 decision that it had lacked for a time. 
 
 " I will ask Mr. Ellis to lead us in prayer," he 
 said. 
 
 Mr. Ellis bowed his head with a prayer for help 
 that the congregation did not hear. Could he but 
 say the right thing ! The voice that asked for 
 guidance came from a full heart. 
 
 " Father in Heaven," he begged, " be patient 
 with our blindness and lead us into the safe pas 
 tures of Thy peace." "Peace." The word was 
 grateful, and the room calmed with that stillness 
 that comes from unity of thought. He prayed for 
 
MISTRESS QUIXOTE 103 
 
 charity, for help to endure the rigors of the day, 
 and his listeners murmured " Amen." The care- 
 lined faces lifted at the close of the prayer were 
 softened and subdued. 
 
 Dr. Griggs rose and smiled glitteringly. " We 
 will disband early this evening," he said, " but I 
 will ask the officers of the Knights of Temperance 
 to remain for consultation. There will be no more 
 meetings until further notice." 
 
 The people scattered slowly. They stood un 
 easily, watching Mr. Proctor and making shame 
 faced excuses to speak to him. The atmosphere 
 was distinctly friendly, but the fact remained that 
 Mr. Proctor s coming had broken up the meeting, 
 and he was keenly alive to the significance of this 
 change of front. He owed the rise in the tempera 
 ture to Katherine Edmister, as he well knew, and 
 he made his way at once to where she was sitting 
 with Mrs. Green. 
 
 " Well," he began, then stopped and held out 
 his hand without speaking. This fiery little Kath 
 erine, whom he had ignored, seemed suddenly very 
 near to him, very much his friend. To him she 
 had grown to womanhood in this last hour, and an 
 homage that was not wholly gratitude crept into 
 his eyes. 
 
 Katherine looked embarrassed, but at the same 
 time oddly reproachful. " It was nothing," she 
 said nervously. " Come, Mrs. Green, we must go. 
 It was nothing." 
 
 He placed himself before her. " It was every 
 thing," he insisted. " Won t you permit me to 
 
104 THE LEGATEE 
 
 thank you ? I know what you would say, that 
 you did it in the interests of justice, that I was 
 the under dog, but that does n t change my 
 gratitude. I ve always been the under dog with 
 you, if you but knew it," he added, with a touch 
 of half -mechanical gallantry. 
 
 To his surprise the girl flushed painfully. " No, 
 no ! " she cried with protest out of all proportion 
 to his idle speech. " You have always had the 
 upper hand. If you had been the l under dog, as 
 you. call it, we should have been spared more 
 trouble than you know." 
 
 So the swift defense that had warmed his heart 
 she called " trouble." He turned away, rebuffed 
 and annoyed. This Mistress Quixote ran atilt at 
 any windmill that offered, careless of the cause 
 intrenched behind. He had been a fool to think 
 otherwise. 
 
 Karen was smiling with invitation, but his mood 
 did not incline him to meet her eyes. He went 
 instead to Yngve. 
 
 " Yngve," he began without greeting, " why did 
 you hiss me to-night ? " 
 
 Yngve lifted a face where defiance met fear. 
 " How do you know that I did it ? " he evaded. 
 
 Mr. Proctor studied him. " I was n t sure when 
 I asked," he said with distaste. " I am now. I ve 
 stood a good deal of nonsense from you because it 
 did n t seem worth my time to interfere. I think 
 I 11 speak to your father. It is time he took you 
 in hand." 
 
 The boy blanched with anger. " I m my own 
 
MISTRESS QUIXOTE 105 
 
 boss," he blustered. * It is n t my father s busi 
 ness if I won t submit to oppression." 
 
 " Oppression ! " meditated Mr. Proctor. " So, 
 that s it. And this is called a temperance meet 
 ing." He smiled rather bitterly. " All right, 
 Yngve, overthrow oppression by all means. It s 
 a wicked thing," he added carelessly, as he turned 
 away. 
 
 Yngve followed. " What is it that you think 
 I ve done ? " he asked in a half whisper. 
 
 The suspense of the boy s tone brought a return 
 of Mr. Proctor s interest. " More than I ve time 
 or inclination to tell," he said oracularly. Since 
 melodrama was on the boards, he, too, would play 
 his share. 
 
 Yngve looked at him for a moment with shrewd 
 ness that strove hard to match his own, then 
 slouched away. He had been outgeneraled in 
 wit, but that was not important. He salved his 
 pride with a fierce mutter to the effect that talk 
 was cheap. 
 
 Mr. Proctor felt equal discomfort. His en 
 counter with Yngve had been distasteful. He had 
 no mind to play the bully, and the boy, whatever 
 he had done, was Karen Torstenson s brother. He 
 turned to find Karen, but she was absorbed with 
 Mr. Livingstone, and he went away, well pleased 
 to be left to his own thoughts. 
 
 At the door he met Ferdinante Lauzeone. He 
 had not seen her since the day that she had come 
 to his office, but hers was not a face to forget. 
 
 " Mr. Detiere and me was sorry," she said, with 
 
106 THE LEGATEE 
 
 a shy smile. It was the first open allusion that 
 had been made to the scene of the evening, and 
 Mr. Proctor enjoyed it. The woman impressed 
 him, as she had before, with her splendid panther 
 grace, and he felt as he might if some wild crea 
 ture had shown him trust and liking. It was dif 
 ficult to remember that she stood, night after 
 night, at the bar of " The Farmer s Friend." 
 
 " Thank you." He smiled in turn. " So De- 
 tiere is here ? " 
 
 The Belgian s dark face answered for him. 
 " The doctor has a great girl," he said excitedly. 
 "She is brave, very. She mak the folks feel 
 cheap." 
 
 It was the admiration that one commanding soul 
 gives to another, but Mr. Proctor resented it. He 
 turned to the woman beside him. 
 
 " You remember the day that you came to my 
 office, you asked me why Adrien was not work 
 ing ? " he questioned hurriedly. " Did n t you 
 know that he was going away the next day ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the woman. She started down the 
 steps, and the kindness left her face. "I knew 
 that he go away," her voice came back from 
 the darkness, " but if he have so much money 
 that he did not need to work, why did he not stay 
 at home ? His family is not good enough for him. 
 We don t talk right any more. He can t stand us 
 since he knew Katherine Edmister." 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE INITIAL MOVE 
 
 IT was a week later when Heinrich knocked, one 
 evening, at Mr. Proctor s door. Few visitors came 
 to this house, and those few arrived by way of the 
 kitchen and were ushered by Jessie into the apart 
 ment of state. It proved Heinrich s excitement 
 that he came boldly up the front walk. 
 
 Mr. Proctor greeted him with misgiving. " Is 
 Bertha well ? " he asked, as he led the way into 
 his study. The lighthouse had seen him often 
 since the day that he had sat with Bertha on the 
 rock, and the little lame girl s horizon had grown 
 pink with clouds of pleasure. 
 
 " Yes, she is well." Heinrich s words might be 
 laconic, but the wrinkles at his eyes showed up 
 ward curves. There were several roads to this 
 man s heart, but none so wide and free of access 
 as the one to which Bertha held the keys. 
 
 " I am very glad," Mr. Proctor said with slow 
 heartiness. " Now I am not so much afraid of 
 your bad news. You have bad news, Heinrich, I 
 know from your face. What is it ? " 
 
 Heinrich drew a soiled paper from his pocket 
 and fumbled it in his knotted hands, then closed 
 his lips, and handed it to Mr. Proctor. 
 
108 THE LEGATEE 
 
 "It is silly. I think that boys made it," he 
 said. 
 
 The paper was crumpled and finger marked, but 
 the printing on it was carefully done, and Mr. 
 Proctor read it easily in the waning light. 
 
 " Boss," it read, " Notice, you have Caried this 
 Opreshion far as you can be Careful the Laboring 
 man is standing for His Eights and we heer notify 
 you to take a Warning. 
 
 Kof TLU" 
 
 Mr. Proctor read it twice in silence, while Hein- 
 rich looked out of the window. Then he folded 
 the paper and put it into his pocket. 
 
 "Well," he said, "my unknown friend has a 
 long name. Where did you find this, Heinrich ? " 
 
 Heinrich turned a relieved face. Words, in 
 this foreign tongue, meant little more than con 
 fusion of spirit, but he had a lexicon of tones, and 
 Mr. Proctor s light speech was balm to his fear. 
 
 " On the path," he explained, " below the big 
 dead tamarack." 
 
 " On the path, but nailed to a tree," Mr. Proc 
 tor supplemented. " I see where you tore it off. 
 Have you shown it to any one ? " 
 
 " To Bertha. I read not the English." 
 
 Mr. Proctor pondered. " You remember that I 
 saw you at the feed loft, Heinrich," he said at 
 length. He took the paper from his pocket and 
 looked interrogation. 
 
 Heinrich s answering look was dumbly unhappy. 
 " I cannot tell." His voice was almost sullen. 
 " I go there no more, but I I promised " 
 
THE INITIAL MOVE 109 
 
 " I understand. You promised to forget. Do 
 you think it wise to forget this now ? " 
 
 Heinrich shook his head. " It is perhaps boys ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 It was Mr. Proctor s turn to shake his head. 
 " I don t think so," he said, as he lighted the lamp. 
 " Most of the boys have been to school and can 
 spell better. Well, whoever wrote it was fright 
 ened, or he would n t have put it way off there on 
 the tamarack tree. I 11 find one on my office door 
 when they grow bolder. I think that, after all, 
 this is another case for poor memories. Suppose 
 that we both forget ? " 
 
 Heinrich looked dubious, though deferential. 
 He touched his grizzled hair as he had done in his 
 sailor days. 
 
 "You think not to tell the doctor?" he sug 
 gested. 
 
 " Yes, I might tell Dr. Edmister," Mr. Proctor 
 agreed thoughtfully, " though I ve an impression 
 that he tries to keep himself out of the village 
 troubles. I think I 11 go up there this evening." 
 
 " This evening ? " Heinrich s tone forgot its 
 deference and was again eager. " Then will you 
 ask him to get a sign ? " 
 
 " A sign ? " 
 
 " Like Dr. Griggs. I asked him, and he 
 laughed." 
 
 " But why a sign for him ? Every one knows 
 him for fifty miles around. You don t want him 
 to copy Dr. Griggs ? " 
 
 The negative in Heinrich s face was angry, but 
 
110 THE LEGATEE 
 
 he persisted. "Folks like a sign. That s why 
 they go to Dr. Griggs. You tell Dr. Edmister a 
 sign is good." 
 
 The emotion in the man s words touched some 
 thing in Mr. Proctor s heart that Wilsonport was 
 wont to leave dormant. 
 
 "Friends are good, at all events," he said. 
 " Dr. Edmister and I are to be congratulated. 
 Thank you, Heinrich." 
 
 Heinrich had not more than reached the gate 
 when Mr. Proctor started for the house on the 
 bluff. He had not seen Dr. Edmister in some 
 time, and there was much to say. Yet, after all, 
 it was the doctor s daughter who was with him as 
 he climbed the hill. Her he had not seen since 
 the evening of the temperance lecture. He had 
 been remiss in that. Whatever her motive, she 
 had come to his defense. He must not permit his 
 annoyance at her inconsistencies to blind him to 
 that fact. 
 
 It was the daughter who met him. She was 
 alone in the big living-room, curled cat-wise in an 
 armchair near the red lamp, and she looked at him 
 over a barricade of books and magazines. 
 
 " Father is with Mr. Green in the chicken house, 
 trying to catch the old red hen," she said. " He 11 
 be in in a minute." 
 
 "What s the red hen done?" Mr. Proctor 
 asked, as he drew a chair near her. " Is it the 
 minister to dinner ? " 
 
 Katherine s nose tilted with laughter. " It s 
 worse. Mrs. Green is going to have the sewing 
 
THE INITIAL MOVE 111 
 
 circle to tea. It s a yearly ceremony, and father 
 and I are hunting for a hollow tree. We re 
 dreadfully in the way." 
 
 " Come and have dinner supper with me." 
 Mr. Proctor beamed jubilantly at his inspiration. 
 "Jessie will find a rival hen. You don t know 
 what a kindness it would be if you would come." 
 
 Katherine looked over the corner of the lamp 
 shade. There was certainly anticipation in his 
 tone. His mouth, too, reassured her ; never had 
 she seen it more gravely horizontal. Excitement 
 crept into her eyes. An invitation to supper which 
 her father might accept would justify a long mark 
 upon the calendar. 
 
 " But father " she hesitated. " He s never 
 willing." 
 
 " We 11 overpower him.- We re two to one in 
 this," He smiled that they two should be linked 
 in a common cause. " We 11 make it an occasion 
 of state. Shall we ask any one else ? " 
 
 " Karen ? " she debated. " I m sure Jessie will 
 find a large hen." 
 
 " Miss Karen by all means. Any one else ? " 
 
 " Not if you want father to accept. I wish he d 
 come in now." 
 
 He came at once. The screams of disapproval 
 from the chicken house had been quieting for some 
 minutes, but they found an echo in the expression 
 of his face. 
 
 " What about the red hen ? " Mr. Proctor asked 
 in greeting. "Miss Katherine and I have been 
 laying plans." 
 
112 THE LEGATEE 
 
 "The red hen! " the doctor repeated irascibly. 
 " Oh, she s all right. Her plumage is a little 
 ruffled, that s all. It would be foolish to kill a 
 good hen like that just at this season. Ephraim 
 tells me that we re getting very few eggs as it is. 
 I wish you would tell Mrs. Green, Katherine, that 
 when she wishes fowls for the table she can buy 
 them. Now will you remember? " 
 
 " I will remember," Katherine meekly replied. 
 That she did not remind her father that this was 
 a charge of weekly occurrence showed that she 
 was growing older. 
 
 The doctor recognized her clemency and grew 
 apologetic. " I get attached to my poultry, and 
 consistency is a nuisance anyway. What is your 
 plan, Proctor?" 
 
 "It s been a rule of mine to dine at home," he 
 said, as Mr. Proctor explained, " and but you d 
 like to go, would you, Katherine? Well, it s a 
 foolish rule. Day after to-morrow, is it ? Yes, 
 we 11 come with pleasure, Mr. Proctor." 
 
 Katherine looked demurely elated. " Father 
 called it dinner instead of supper," she said. 
 " I m going out to dinner at last. I feel as if I 
 were living in a book. It s going to be a festiv 
 ity my first dinner party. Think of your re 
 sponsibility to make it all that I have dreamed ! " 
 
 Mr. Proctor smiled at her, the promised even 
 ing was assuming festivity in his own mind, but 
 her father looked up sharply as he drew out the 
 chessboard. 
 
 " It occurs to me that I had better accept more 
 
THE INITIAL MOVE 113 
 
 invitations or go where more will be tendered 
 me," he said, as he polished the ivory of his black 
 queen. " Your remarks, Katherine, are not wholly 
 usual. Are you ready for a game, Proctor ? " 
 
 " In a moment." The young man went back to 
 his business with distaste. " I ve something to 
 show you first." 
 
 He told briefly of Heinrich s visit, conscious of 
 Katherine s attentive ear. This was not a matter 
 for listeners, and the girl had already shown too 
 much inclination to be a partisan in these affairs. 
 The word " trouble " returned to rankle in his 
 mind. 
 
 Dr. Edmister examined the paper with care. 
 " It s a Molly Maguire which shows that 
 some one has been reading the papers. I m glad 
 that this came through Heinrich, for I ve been 
 perplexed about him not doubtful, though. I 
 don t believe that this amounts to much, Proctor. 
 It reads like the bravado of a boy. Yngve Tor- 
 stenson, for instance, might do a thing like this 
 and repent in the sackcloth of fear the moment 
 after. Socialists are made easily at nineteen 
 and as easily mended. What do you make of the 
 signature ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor shook his head. " We ve changed 
 roles," he said. " I ve been the optimist before. 
 I m not now. This looks to me like the initial 
 move in what you are pleased to call my game of 
 chess. The signature I ve not made out. L. U. 
 is labor union of course, and K. is probably 
 4 Knights, but I can t find a word to fit the T. I 
 
114 THE LEGATEE 
 
 canvassed the dictionary on my way up here to 
 night. I m inclined to think it a mistake in the 
 printing. It looks a little like an I. Knights of 
 Industry might do." 
 
 The men had drawn toward the table, away 
 from Katherine, and she had taken a seat in a 
 shadowed corner, as if wearied with their talk. 
 The voice that came from her now, however, was 
 far from weary. 
 
 " Temperance ! " she exclaimed. " Knights of 
 Temperance Labor Union ! " 
 
 The men turned toward her and tried the words 
 in their own minds. 
 
 "Yes, I believe that is it, Proctor," said the 
 doctor, nodding. " Katherine has it." 
 
 " Of course she has it." Mr. Proctor felt a 
 throb of pleasure that somehow made his speech 
 short. " The second time to my rescue, Miss 
 Katherine. I have occasion to thank you." He 
 started toward her corner as he spoke. 
 
 " Wait ! " cried the girl. She rose, and her right 
 hand grasped the back of her chair. " Listen to 
 me ! This is n t the beginning, Mr. Proctor. They 
 tried to burn your lumber piles. And I knew it. 
 Mr. Detiere tried to tell Mr. Cole, but I would n t 
 let him. I knew it, and I did n t tell you. But 
 Mr. Livingstone promised to help, and " 
 
 " Stop, Katherine ! " Dr. Edmister rose heavily, 
 and his face was white. " I cannot understand. 
 One sentence at a time, and think carefully of 
 what you say. Now." 
 
 The pallor of the doctor s face was mirrored in 
 
THE INITIAL MOVE 115 
 
 his daughter s, but she met his eye. " I told 
 you." She spoke to her father, as if Mr. Proctor 
 were not there. " Some one tried to burn Mr. 
 Proctor s lumber. Mr. Detiere found the fire and 
 put it out. Then he came to tell Mr. Cole. He 
 found me there alone. I persuaded him to drop 
 the matter to leave it with me. I promised to 
 tell Mr. Cole myself." 
 
 In crucial moments all speech is elemental. Dr. 
 Edmister s comment was what Detiere s had been, 
 "Why?" 
 
 For a moment the girl glanced at Mr. Proctor. 
 It was a look that both men misread, and they 
 judged her harshly. 
 
 "Mr. Detiere was in search of Mr. Living 
 stone," she answered. " He thought that Mr. Liv 
 ingstone had started the fire. He was angry ; I was 
 afraid he might do harm. Then I saw Mr. Liv 
 ingstone and told him about it. He promised to 
 help the men to teach them to do better. I 
 said that if he would do that I would not tell 
 Mr. Cole." 
 
 The cold anger of the doctor s face was giving 
 way to pain, so keen that Mr. Proctor interfered. 
 
 " Will you tell me " his voice was stern even 
 to his own ears " why you changed your mind 
 why you tell us now ? " 
 
 " Because I see now that Mr. Livingstone has 
 not done his part." She spoke to Mr. Proctor, 
 but her eyes battled piteously with her father s. 
 " Because he is the leader in the temperance 
 society, and if this notice comes from the Knights 
 
116 THE LEGATEE 
 
 of Temperance, it shows that he has not influenced 
 the men as I thought he could. I tell you now in 
 the interests of honor and justice." 
 
 The doctor turned from her. " Honor and jus 
 tice ! " he said, with a groan. " Those are not 
 words for your lips to-night, Katherine." 
 
 The girl sought the chair-back with her other 
 hand and did not reply. In the dim room her 
 slight figure looked unprotected and lonely, but 
 her head was finely erect. Mr. Proctor found a 
 Curious thrill shaking him. He sought for anger ; 
 he found only an irrational longing to comfort 
 and shield. 
 
 The pause was long, though no one seemed to 
 realize it. It was the doctor who again spoke. 
 
 " My daughter conspiring with men like Detiere 
 and Livingstone and against your property ! 
 Mr. Proctor, I have no words to offer you." 
 
 Proctor turned from him impatiently. " I am 
 convinced that Miss Katherine has an explana 
 tion." Unconsciously he drew nearer the girl. 
 " Perhaps she can make it with less difficulty if I 
 leave the room." 
 
 Katherine looked at him with amaze and grati 
 tude that stabbed him. Had she thought him 
 incapable of generosity? The line of her lips 
 quivered for the first time. 
 
 "Her explanations are due you, not me," the 
 doctor interposed sternly. " If you have any ex 
 cuse to offer, Katherine, I command you to make 
 it now." 
 
 " Not to me," Mr. Proctor interrupted, " unless 
 
THE INITIAL MOVE 117 
 
 she wishes." He crossed the room and opened 
 the door. " Miss Katherine ? " 
 
 The girl s shamed step passed him without halt 
 ing. She bowed, but the eyes that he was sud 
 denly eager to see brighten were drooped. 
 
 Dr. Edmister turned with indignation to the 
 younger man. "You take much upon yourself, 
 Proctor," he said. 
 
 " And^will take more," the young man blazed, 
 " if you hurt her so again. The girl s flesh and 
 blood, not steel. Think what you said to her! 
 And she s the heart of honor." 
 
 "The heart of honor! And because she dis 
 likes you she connives at the burning of your 
 lumber piles. This from my daughter Kath 
 erine ! " 
 
 " Your daughter Katherine is the heart of hon 
 or." Mr. Proctor walked the floor. " What has 
 she done after all ? She tried to save Livingstone 
 from what was, to her, an unjust suspicion, but 
 when she found that she d made mischief she 
 did n t stop to shield him or herself. She told 
 the truth. And her courage! Listen to what 
 she did for me the other night." 
 
 He told the story earnestly, for memory lived 
 again that hostile moment and its swift recoil. 
 The doctor s face softened. 
 
 "That was like her," he said more gently, 
 Then the knife turned again. "But how could 
 she have done this ! I ve been proud of my 
 daughter, Proctor." 
 
 " And rightly. But can t you see ? All that 
 
118 THE LEGATEE 
 
 she did was to try to save Livingstone. A woman 
 may always be forgiven that." 
 
 " To save Livingstone at your expense. Has she 
 no sense of equity ? And it was not a woman s 
 business." , 
 
 " Everything is a woman s business at times," 
 Proctor said with some gravity. " When the in 
 terests of two men are in balance with a woman, 
 one man or the other must go to the wall. I was 
 the other man." 
 
 The doctor turned with squared shoulders. 
 " Preposterous ! " 
 
 " But it s not the first time that she s defended 
 him," Proctor argued, and he sketched Kather- 
 ine s attitude the morning that he had found her 
 with Livingstone in front of the schoolhouse. 
 " She hurled herself and her theorems at the 
 breach," he concluded, " without a thought." 
 
 " But Livingstone ! " the doctor protested. 
 
 " He s been her teacher. The situation s old. 
 It is not a matter that I would choose to discuss, 
 but it seems the explanation. Anything is better 
 than that you should judge her as you do now." 
 
 There was silence after this, which the doctor 
 broke with effort. " What do you plan to do, 
 Proctor ? The paper, too what about that ? I 
 retract what I said about its unimportance." 
 
 The young man waked from what seemed a 
 reverie. " I have n t thought." His tone was 
 abstracted. " Never mind about that to-night. 
 You 11 dine with me on Thursday, doctor ? " 
 
 " After this ? " The doctor looked denial. 
 
THE INITIAL MOVE 119 
 
 "Why not the more? Will you renew my 
 invitation to Miss Katherine? I think that she 
 will understand and come." 
 
 The doctor drew himself together. " You are 
 generous," he said. " I am glad to accept your 
 kindness for myself and daughter. We will 
 
 come." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 WHEKE JESSIE REIGNED 
 
 MK. PROCTOR prepared for his dinner with a 
 nervous care which would have amused himself 
 had it been less unconscious. He belonged to the 
 helpless type of men where household matters 
 were concerned and showed, as a rule, a truly 
 Elisha-like indifference as to the methods of his 
 ministering ravens ; but now, spurred by the mem 
 ory of Katherine s assured announcement that this 
 was to be an occasion of the world worldly, he 
 gave his menu serious consideration. 
 
 The task before him was more unfamiliar than 
 the scaling of logs had been six months before, 
 but his memory, stimulated by study of a cook 
 book which he stealthily extracted from a drawer 
 in the kitchen table, served him well, and he sur 
 veyed his completed list of dishes with a smile 
 born of the anticipatory complacence of his palate. 
 
 " This is to be a dinner, not a supper," he ex 
 plained to Jessie when he carried the list to her 
 for consultation, "and you must have the plates 
 brought in at different times, as I have marked 
 here, not put on the table all at once. You can 
 hire all the help you need, and I would like you 
 to find a young girl to wait on the table. We will 
 have the soup " 
 
WHERE JESSIE REIGNED 121 
 
 Where or how he would have the soup was 
 never known. Jessie, who had been stolidly wash 
 ing dish towels throughout his explanation, was 
 halfway down the steps, one hand full of clothes 
 pins, the other supporting an unsteady structure 
 of moist toweling, and the angle of her neck sug 
 gested uncompromising deafness. 
 
 The futility of annoyance was a lesson concern 
 ing which the man was fast growing letter-perfect. 
 Since he had learned that his moods were a mat 
 ter of complete indifference to all about him, his 
 temper had greatly improved he told himself, and 
 he now awaited Jessie s return with patience com 
 pounded full as much of amusement as of resigna 
 tion. 
 
 His second essay was more discreet. " You 
 know how to cook all of these things so well that 
 I want to show Dr. Edmister what you can do," 
 he cajoled, but the look which Jessie turned upon 
 him painted so visibly the childishness of his 
 palpable flatteries that he respected her wordless 
 scorn. 
 
 " What shall we have, then ? " he asked at 
 length, with the meekness of utter defeat. " I 
 suppose that you are willing to give them some 
 thing to eat?" 
 
 Jessie paused in her vindictive scrubbing of the 
 top of the kitchen table and again found her 
 tongue. 
 
 " Dinner is dinner ; supper is supper," she said, 
 pulling at her tightly rolled sleeves, and with this 
 darkly oracular remark she turned toward her 
 
122 THE LEGATEE 
 
 employer a look which experience told him beto 
 kened a listening ear. 
 
 " Very well, call it supper, then. Here, take 
 the list, and select the dishes that you re willing 
 to have, but please don t leave out either the 
 chicken or the whitefish." 
 
 Jessie took the extended list, only to let it drop 
 to the floor, and turned again to her scrubbing. 
 
 " Whitefish is grand eating," she said, as she 
 stopped to pour the soft soap upon her cloth, 
 " but you 11 find it awful messy on the same plate 
 with chicken." 
 
 The suggestive industry of her pose discouraged 
 further conversation, and Mr. Proctor made the 
 most of his toppling dignity as he retreated to his 
 room. If he were an oppressor, the whirligig of 
 time in Jessie s hands was bringing odd revenges. 
 
 He was apparently deep in his papers when the 
 door of the study softly opened and Jessie s pro 
 file showed at the enlarging crack. 
 
 " We 11 have riz biscuit for supper to-night," 
 she said casually, her one visible eye directed to 
 ward the ceiling, " and I dunno as I care, after all, 
 if you do smoke in the parlor." 
 
 The thoughts which Jessie had interrupted had 
 not concerned themselves wholly with papers. 
 There was a question mark in Mr. Proctor s mind 
 whenever he thought of Dr. Edmister and Kather- 
 ine, and he was considering it now. The appeal in 
 Katherine s face would not leave him. How had 
 her father answered her ? His own share, too, in 
 the conversation left a prickling memory. Why 
 
WHERE JESSIE REIGNED 123 
 
 had he been so zealous in suggesting explanations 
 for the girl s conduct ? A lurking sense of pro 
 portion whispered that he had been rude. 
 
 Dr. Edmister s face, as he saw it the next even 
 ing, silenced his doubts. To all intents it was the 
 same serene, half-humorous, indulgent. The 
 doctor s manner to his daughter, too, betrayed 
 no change. Mr. Proctor felt relief. Katherine s 
 attitude toward himself mattered little now. Yet 
 he had thought that she might meet him with a 
 franker smile. 
 
 Supper materialized as fried chicken, biscuit 
 light as the puffballs of the woods, and mashed 
 potatoes that frothed over the curving edges of 
 the dish. It was not a meal that permitted of 
 apology, and the story of frustrated social ambi 
 tions, which the host had reserved as the climax 
 of his entertainment, seemed so out of place that 
 he suppressed it. It may have been that Karen s 
 presence changed his perspective. At all events, 
 the tale lost humor in his eyes. 
 
 The hour at the supper table was a pleasure so 
 distinct that Mr. Proctor marveled that he should 
 have deferred its enjoyment for so long. It was 
 good to play the host once more, and two of his 
 guests, at least, were in an appreciative humor. 
 Of Katherine s attitude he was not so sure. Could 
 her father have told her of what had been said 
 about Livingstone ? Impossible ! He put the 
 thought away, yet with -it he could not dismiss 
 his irritation. Since he had overlooked his private 
 wrongs to offer the olive branch of this evening s 
 
124 THE LEGATEE 
 
 hospitality, it was absurd of the girl to build a 
 barrier of reserve between them. With Karen 
 he had no doubts. She talked little, but her ready 
 laughter filled the pauses with tinkling music 
 more effective than speech, and her hair was the 
 color note of the lamp-lit room. 
 
 " You 11 have a wild time at Birch Creek next 
 week," the doctor said, as they lingered at table. 
 " The Belgians will be having their harvest dance. 
 Will you try to run the mill? " 
 
 " Will I try to run the mill ? " Mr. Proctor 
 echoed perplexedly. " Why, yes, though Cole 
 did say something about expecting that Detiere 
 would shut down on Saturday. I don t like to 
 have him do it, for we re crowded, but at the same 
 time I d be sorry to run counter to the scruples of 
 the men. It s a semi-religious festival, is n t it ? " 
 
 Dr. Edmister smiled confidentially at the cornice. 
 " It s the kermess, properly. Kirk means church, 
 mess means mass," he answered with categorical 
 evasion. 
 
 Mr. Proctor looked interested. " I m familiar 
 with the Flemish kermess," he said. " It s a pic 
 turesque custom." 
 
 Dr. Edmister s hand covered his mouth, but 
 his eyes were regretful. " Look here, Proctor," he 
 warned, " remember that a harvest festival in these 
 pineries is one thing ; a fete in Flanders is another 
 or looks so in an engraving. We re talking at 
 cross-purposes. You 11 be wiser at the end of the 
 week. As to running your mill, you 11 have not a 
 word to say about it." 
 
WHERE JESSIE REIGNED 125 
 
 Karen s mouth looked reproach. This was not 
 conversation to her mind, and she let Mr. Proctor 
 hear her sigh. He turned to her at once. " Have 
 you been out to Birch Creek, Miss Karen ? " 
 
 Karen shook her head. " I m not interested 
 in Birch Creek," she said with some complacence. 
 " Mr. Livingstone says it is a sink of iniquity." 
 
 Despite his wish, the schoolmaster s name drew 
 Proctor s eyes to Katherine. He was rewarded by 
 a face that again showed animation ; the reformer 
 in the girl had waked. 
 
 " Why should n t one be interested ? " she de 
 manded dogmatically. " They re human beings 
 at Birch Creek sink of iniquity or not." 
 
 " But I don t like to talk about such people." 
 Karen looked daintily petulant. " Mr. Living 
 stone says it is n t a nice place for a lady to go." 
 
 A shadow strayed across the talk, and the 
 remainder of the evening passed less happily. 
 Karen s somewhat assured use of the schoolmas 
 ter s name suggested a new complication to Proc 
 tor s mind. It came to him suddenly that Kath 
 erine must be lonely. For even Karen had just 
 shown that she did not comprehend. He looked 
 over at Katherine and remembered once more 
 that he had arranged for this evening at her 
 suggestion. He was regretful that it did not 
 give her pleasure. 
 
 "As to the paper Heinrich brought you," Dr. 
 Edmister asked as he was leaving " what have 
 you done ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor welcomed the advance. He had 
 
126 THE LEGATEE 
 
 feared that the doctor might choose to make the 
 matter a forbidden topic. 
 
 "Nothing," he said, "beyond doubling the 
 night watch at the mill and warning the men that 
 they must be more careful about flying sparks. 
 They can read a warning into that if their con 
 sciences are sensitive. Everything is going well. 
 My mill is sawing lumber eleven hours a day, and 
 I m unmolested personally. What more would 
 you?" 
 
 " I would several things among them that 
 this matter had not come between us. My daugh 
 ter" 
 
 " Has done no harm. I m sorry that you gave 
 that a second thought. I did not. Won t you 
 forget it ? " 
 
 The doctor smiled at the phrase. " Complaisant 
 memories seem the mode among us. Perhaps it s 
 as well. Here s a curious incident. Detiere came 
 to me the other day professionally. Climbed up 
 to the house and asked me to prescribe for him." 
 
 Mr. Proctor whistled. " Detiere sick ! " 
 
 " Sick ! No. Absolutely the most perfect thing 
 physically it was ever my good fortune to see. I 
 felt as I might if a mastodon had wandered in 
 and asked for a nerve tonic. No, he simply 
 wanted medicine he said. But Louis Detiere 
 developing imagination as a hypochondriac is a 
 situation." 
 
 "Not a pleasant situation," Mr. Proctor began, 
 but the girls were entering the room, and he com 
 pleted his thought with another half-smothered 
 
WHERE JESSIE REIGNED 127 
 
 whistle. " By the way," he went on, " when do you 
 order your sign ? " 
 
 The doctor smiled as he lighted his lantern. 
 " Heinrich is a wicked and perverse generation," 
 he said. " I can t convince him that there s work 
 enough for Dr. Griggs and myself, and the more 
 good men the better for the village. Well, tell 
 me about the keriness. You d better go out and 
 see it." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE KERMESS 
 
 THE next week brought business to drive the ker- 
 mess from Mr. Proctor s mind. It was on Wednes 
 day that Cole recalled it to his somewhat perplexed 
 consciousness. 
 
 " Detiere s running yet full handed," Cole 
 commented. 
 
 "Well, why not?" Mr. Proctor asked sharply. 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " It mostly happens that the men are too drunk 
 to work by the middle of the week. Xavier sent 
 a load of beer out last week. They have meetings 
 and dances every night. They 11 have to knock off 
 by Saturday." 
 
 Proctor s lips pressed more firmly. " Find out 
 for me whether they stop work on Saturday." 
 
 It was late Saturday afternoon when Cole came 
 again. The shingle mill had been running all day, 
 he said, and his face was nonplussed. The mes 
 senger had reported Detiere as swearing like a 
 fiend and driving the men like a tiger, and Cole 
 repeated the similes with relish. 
 
 " He never did it for your uncle," he wondered. 
 " You don t suppose " his heavily moulded face 
 grew more mobile " Detiere was at the last meet- 
 
THE KERMESS 129 
 
 ing at the schoolhouse. You don t suppose that 
 he could have experienced a change ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor shook his head. Detiere s face 
 seemed suddenly before him, summoned at sound 
 yf his name. His dominant overflowing person 
 ality was more than a memory. He was there, 
 rakish, defiant, viciously handsome as a fallen 
 angel. 
 
 "No, Cole. Don t hunt for a convert there. 
 I m glad that he kept the mill going, though. I 11 
 speak to him about it. I m going to drive out to 
 the festival to-morrow, and I may see him." 
 
 Cole s teeth gleamed. His sense of humor lay 
 deep, but it could be stirred. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " you 11 probably see him." 
 
 It was sundown of the next day when Mr. Proc 
 tor reached Birch Creek. The dusty road that ran 
 through the clearing was empty, and the buildings 
 looked deserted. He stopped before the boarding- 
 house and shouted vigorously, but the whine of a 
 chained dog was the only response. A cow, at 
 tracted by the clamor, came slowly toward him, and 
 laying her head across the log-railed steps, mooed 
 plaintively that it was milking time and she had 
 been forgotten. Still no one came. Mr. Proctor 
 pondered. The Catholic church was a half mile 
 beyond the settlement. If the people were there at 
 vesper service, he would await their return. 
 
 He tied his horse and looked for a point of van 
 tage. The ground back of the mill rose slightly 
 for a few hundred yards, and he made his way to 
 the top of the incline. 
 
130 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Ah ! qu il est beau le Regiment, 
 Des Carabiniers de Belgique ! " 
 
 The song reached him as he seated himself on a low 
 stump. He was just in time, and as he looked to 
 ward where the road plunged again into the timber, 
 a swelling dust cloud heralded the singers. 
 
 The sun, balancing upon the summit of the forest 
 wall, left Mr. Proctor in deep shadow, and slanted 
 redly on the winding road below, so that the dust- 
 shrouded procession danced into view through a 
 spraying shower of gold. 
 
 " Boire et chanter, aimer et rire. " 
 
 It was a procession of Bacchantes. Men and 
 women were there, gray heads and baby faces, 
 but all seemed elfin in the license of their mirth. 
 Laughing and stumbling they danced along, their 
 figures magnified by the dust haze to mythical pro 
 portions. Their arms were around one another, and 
 the wind played with their disordered hair. Not 
 all of them were singing ; ribald laughter punctu 
 ated jests that the kindly air refused to carry to 
 the watcher on the slope above. 
 
 Before them, his dark-curled head bent with 
 maudlin laughter, Louis Detiere led the way. In 
 his arms lay a woman, her lagging weight resisting 
 the ardor of his movement, but no burden could 
 entirely hamper the grace of a step that a dancing 
 satyr might have envied. With all the noticeable 
 figures in the company his was the compelling one. 
 He was there, as in the mill, the governing note. 
 
 " La Belgique et la liberte* ! " 
 
THE KERMESS 131 
 
 The column passed through the settlement, and 
 the voices dimmed. The sun dropped behind the 
 screening forest. Mr. Proctor was alone. 
 
 He untied his horse, in an unwonted mood of 
 analysis. Somehow Katherine s cry, " They re 
 human beings ! " battled with his distaste for what 
 he had just seen. Yes, it might be well for him 
 to see more. This had been but prelude. He had 
 learned from the random talk of the revelers that 
 they were on their way to the Detiere place. He 
 would wait for an hour and follow. 
 
 Twilight had passed when he reached Detiere s 
 clearing. The harvest moon, yellow and languor 
 ous, looked over the treetops, and its gentle glamour 
 disguised the squalor of the refuse-strewn dooryard. 
 The dancers were before him. The squeak of a 
 fiddle sounded above the shuffle of feet, and waver 
 ing squares of light marked open windows. 
 
 He tied his horse to a tree the log fence did 
 not suggest permanent anchorage and stood by 
 an open window. The dancers had passed all re 
 cognition of exterior impressions, and he was rea 
 sonably secure from observation. 
 
 The house had apparently but two rooms, into 
 the larger of which he was looking. Its furniture 
 had been removed, and its pine floor, black with 
 unmentionable usage, furnished insecure footing 
 for a crowd of reeling men and women. At one 
 end of the room, the musician, a withered old man 
 with a nutcracker face, held his fiddle high upon 
 his shoulder to protect it from the elbows of the 
 trampling crowd, while at the other, unplaned 
 
132 THE LEGATEE 
 
 boards mounted upon hogsheads supported a line 
 of beer kegs, their faucets dripping a seductive 
 stream into the blackened tin cups below. 
 
 The room beyond seemed, from glimpses caught 
 through the open door, to be piled high with tou 
 sled heaps of babies. Many of their elders, too, 
 had passed from torpidness to slumber. Even in 
 the room where they were dancing, figures sprawled 
 upon the floor. 
 
 It was a wavering picture. Lanterns flared un 
 certainly from the rafters, and candles tottered in 
 the crannies of the logs. The broken shadows of 
 the dancers leaped upon the shaking walls. 
 
 Again Louis Detiere was chief. He danced in 
 cessantly, and his activity seemed an effect of me 
 chanism. When one partner dropped exhausted, 
 he seized another. The men gave way before him 
 with scowls ; their befogged brains did not have 
 wit enough to turn their resentment to action. He 
 drank, as did the others, but what would have 
 made a weaker brain sluggish served but to stimu 
 late him afresh. He was license incarnate the 
 embodied spirit of animal exuberance unhampered 
 by a hint of mind. 
 
 The revelry was at its height when a high 
 treble call palsied the roisterers. Paul Living 
 stone was standing in the centre of the room, and 
 though his face was white and his figure shaking, 
 his voice was clear and firm. 
 
 " Repent ! " he cried. " Repent ! Daughters of 
 Jezebel, sons of Belial, I call upon you in the 
 name of the Most High God." 
 
THE KERMESS 133 
 
 For a moment the shock held the company. No 
 one had seen Livingstone enter, even Mr. Proc 
 tor, at the window, had not noticed his soft-footed 
 approach, and the supernatural in his appearance 
 gave him a short respite. Then a murmur rose, 
 like the protest of a bees swarm. Jezebel was as 
 good a name as any other, but they objected to 
 intrusions. A line of old army muskets leaned 
 against the wall, and one of the men walked to 
 ward them. There were threatening fists and a 
 muttering of Belgian oaths, but Livingstone s voice 
 persisted. 
 
 " Hell lies naked before you ! Repent ye, while 
 there is yet time ! Ye are now cursed before God, 
 but He will forgive even unto the uttermost. Turn, 
 children of Sodom, for the Master calls ! " 
 
 " Hold on ! " called Louis Detiere. He had 
 been standing rigid, his eyes narrowing ; now his 
 figure relaxed, and he took the centre of the floor. 
 " Hold on ! " There was something like amusement 
 in his face as he studied Livingstone. " I don t 
 understand your lingo, and I don t know what 
 you re here for, or who asked you to come," he 
 stopped to call down upon the intruder a flood of 
 descriptive oaths, " but you said something about 
 masters. Now I ve one word. You ain t the one 
 to talk to me about masters. Who kept the mill 
 running all week and did fair square days works 
 for the man that paid him wages ? That s the 
 master I know about the one I work for and 
 I ain t too drunk yet to know the dirty work 
 you re doing him. I know your meetings where 
 
134 THE LEGATEE 
 
 you put blankets to the windows because you re 
 afraid you 11 be shot you talk a lot about shoot 
 ing. I know your paper on the tree boy s play 
 because you don t dare use a knife in the open 
 and I know your white-livered doctor." He 
 stopped to spit in the face of the man before him, 
 and an interlude of profanity stayed his accusa 
 tions. " You ain t worth killing, else I d do it 
 now. Besides, I want you. Tell Cole from me 
 that I may be a drunken Belgian, but there ain t 
 any under-handed crookedness in my crew. That s 
 more than he can say. Tell him so." 
 
 Mr. Livingstone had listened patiently with un 
 seeing gaze. Now he raised his eyes. 
 
 " Peace, child of wrath," he said. " I hear you 
 not. I " 
 
 A blow across the mouth stopped him, and De- 
 tiere pushed a swelling face nearer. 
 
 "Will you tell Cole what I told you?" he 
 roared. 
 
 The man in Livingstone vanquished the mystic. 
 " No ! " he shouted in turn. " I carry no mes 
 sages for liars." 
 
 The force of his tone gave him sudden ascend 
 ency, and reason snapped in Detiere s brain. His 
 look spoke murder, and Mr. Proctor jumped 
 through the window at the sight. He was not too 
 soon. Detiere had seized a musket, and grasping 
 it by the stock, was swinging it around his head. 
 Livingstone looked up. He withered in the second 
 needed for the bludgeon to descend, and no one 
 called him coward. 
 
THE KERMESS 135 
 
 But the musket did not reach Livingstone. 
 Proctor s scrambling rush was made in time for 
 him to catch the weapon in its downward sweep, 
 and his arm, though beaten backward by the im 
 petus, held the musket firm. The sodden com 
 pany drew back. If the first appearance had been 
 disturbing, this was in the nature of a miracle, and 
 they breathed hard as they crossed themselves. 
 
 Detiere alone showed no surprise. His teeth 
 gleamed under tight-pulled lips, but he made no 
 sound, and grasping the gun barrel with both 
 hands, he tried to wrench it from the man before 
 him. There was a moment s tableau. The men 
 were of a height, and they wrestled eye to eye. 
 Light hair to dark brow, they stood in contrast ; it 
 seemed the eternal conflict of sun and shadow, and 
 the dullest were stirred. But it was an unequal 
 contest. Proctor s right arm was numbed by the 
 blow of the musket, and it soon swung helpless at 
 his side. 
 
 " Run, Livingstone ! " he called over his shoulder. 
 " I can t hold out much longer ! Run, man I in 
 all right ! " 
 
 The scowl on Detiere s mercurial face shifted, 
 like shadows on a pool. With a burst of noisy 
 laughter he dropped the musket. 
 
 " Run ! Run ! He run five minutes ago. You 
 are strong, Mr. Proctor." He beamed admiration 
 from a face that held no memory of the anger of 
 the moment before. " I m sorry that I hurt your 
 arm." 
 
 Proctor walked to the wall and replaced the 
 
136 THE LEGATEE 
 
 musket without speaking. His arm was painful, 
 but that Livingstone had deserted was more so. 
 It made the whole scene unnecessary, belittling. 
 
 " You would n t enjoy prison, Detiere," he said 
 with brevity of accent. " You d find it confining. 
 But mend your ways, if you mean to keep out of 
 it. I can t be around to save you every time." 
 
 "So?" The Belgian* smiled with undisturbed 
 good humor. " You are a strong man. Sacristi ! " 
 He examined Proctor s muscles with an eye that 
 paid tribute to their power. " I work the men all 
 this week, Mr. Proctor. Cole said I could n t." 
 
 " Yes, you did well this week, Detiere. Now do 
 better and stop this orgy." Mr. Proctor swept 
 the room with a glance of contempt that was lost 
 on the crowd before him. " Do it because I ask 
 it. You should be grateful to me to-night. Send 
 these people home." 
 
 " Oui," Detiere blithely assented. He spoke a 
 few sharp words, and the women turned away. 
 The men such of them as were not beyond hear 
 ing shrugged their shoulders, but they slouched 
 toward the door. " They go," their leader an 
 nounced to Mr. Proctor. " Next time " his tone 
 was insinuatingly gentle " maybe you come ear 
 lier." 
 
 Proctor walked away to hide his unwilling smile. 
 " Next time," he called back, " I will come earlier, 
 and I 11 bring the sheriff." 
 
 A few rods from the door he met Livingstone. 
 " Stop, Livingstone ! " he called. " Don t go back 
 there." 
 
THE KERMESS 137 
 
 The schoolmaster wheeled. " You re hurt ? " 
 
 " I ? No. But why are you going back ? You 
 left once." 
 
 " I left to go for help. I was coming back to 
 aid you." 
 
 "Where did you go for help?" Proctor per 
 sisted. Had the schoolmaster s pride overcome 
 his cowardice ? Why this return ? 
 
 Livingstone looked troubled, but did not finesse. 
 " I went for Dr. Griggs. He s out there, but he 
 would not He did not think it best to return." 
 
 " I understand," said Mr. Proctor with sudden 
 cordiality. " Won t you drive home with me ? I 
 came alone." 
 
 " I m with Dr. Griggs," Livingstone reluctantly 
 replied. He followed to the road and watched 
 Mr. Proctor untie the horse. " I suppose that I 
 that I owe my life to you. I m very much 
 obliged." 
 
 Mr. Proctor picked up the reins. " That s all 
 right, Livingstone. Don t think of it again. I m 
 glad, though, that I happened to be playing Peep 
 ing Tom. Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night. But Mr. Proctor ! Mr. Proc 
 tor ! Just one moment ! " 
 
 "Well?" Mr. Proctor leaned from the car 
 riage, and the moonlight showed him the school 
 master s face distorted with resolve. 
 
 " Mr. Proctor, I cannot let my gratitude to you 
 interfere with my duty. I cannot. I warn you of 
 that. I cannot do it." 
 
 " By no means," said Mr. Proctor. The friend- 
 
138 THE LEGATEE 
 
 liness of his tone was accented by the sight of a 
 portly figure crouching by a roadside bush. " Do 
 your duty wherever you see it. May I suggest 
 that at this moment duty lies in the rescuing of 
 your friend Dr. Griggs? He is under the bush 
 there, and he appears to be in pain." 
 
 Mr. Proctor s arm seemed less painful as he 
 drove away. To have proved Dr. Griggs a coward 
 was a gain as well as a pleasure. It removed what 
 he had thought of as a factor in his plans. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AN AWAKENING 
 
 ME. PROCTOR S wrenched arm wrought the un 
 expected. The village was impressed. The story 
 of his encounter with Detiere spread and lost no 
 picturesqueness in the telling. He found himself 
 in an Indian summer of esteem. 
 
 " I ve learned the road to popularity," he said 
 to Dr. Edmister, who was caring for his arm. " I 
 expected to begin next summer with drastic mea 
 sures, but now I 11 knock a man down once a month 
 and let the labor agitators do their worst." 
 
 The doctor did not smile. " I m glad that it 
 happened," he said with some gravity. " The 
 people have underestimated your strength. I wel 
 come every accident that shows them the real 
 man." 
 
 Mr. Proctor was going down the trail when he 
 met Katherine. He was aglow from his talk with 
 her father, and his retrospective smile momentarily 
 included her. Their greetings were wont to be 
 perfunctory. 
 
 The girl met his smile with a rill of song and 
 eyes that strove vainly for sobriety. He placed 
 himself in her way. 
 
 " I m almost tone deaf," he said severely, " and 
 
140 THE LEGATEE 
 
 I don t wish to be suspicious, but isn t that 4 Lo ! 
 the Conquering Hero ? " 
 
 Katherine sat down on a log and stopped to 
 laugh. "But I liked it." Her look hailed him 
 as a comrade. " I m so glad that you did it ! " 
 
 This was a new Katherine, and Mr. Proctor took 
 the other end of the log. " Et tu ! " he groaned. 
 " "Well, there s no escape if destiny calls, but a 
 pugilist s life never attracted me." 
 
 Katherine sat up straight. "Oh, I didn t 
 mean the catching of the gun though that was 
 all right too. I meant that I was glad of the other 
 thing that the man was afraid of you. He was 
 afraid of your self-control. He couldn t under 
 stand your taking a blow meant for another man. 
 He would never be afraid of mere strength." 
 
 " Energy is substance with Detiere," said the 
 man somewhat absently. He neglected the per 
 sonal application of the girl s speech in wonder at 
 her vivid face. 
 
 " I m afraid that I m like him. I understand 
 his worship of force." The girl curled her palms 
 together gleefully and looked up with a frank de 
 mand upon his discernment. 
 
 It was difficult to respond. A new and wholly 
 unexpected impulse of admiration was crowding 
 Mr. Proctor s tongue to flattery. Yet he must not 
 repel her advances. Why had she never shown 
 him this side of herself before ? 
 
 Katherine rose. " Mr. Livingstone should be 
 very grateful to you," she said formally. The 
 glow with which she had welcomed the conquering 
 hero had faded. 
 
AN AWAKENING 141 
 
 Mr. Proctor rose too, with a laugh for his own 
 egotism. He had been obtuse. Of course Kath- 
 erine would show him new friendliness ; he had 
 saved Livingstone. 
 
 He was not smiling as he walked down the trail. 
 The girl s attitude might be admirably consistent, 
 but he was annoyed. He paid somewhat dearly 
 for his friendship with Dr.Edmister in these prickly 
 encounters with the daughter. Yet why try to 
 find excuse for her phases ? He was exaggerating, 
 losing his perspective. A few weeks more and he 
 would be in the world again, and this life of petty 
 irritations and childish mysteries would seem as 
 immaterial as a dream. 
 
 He was dreaming of that world some mornings 
 later when he was wakened by a splatter of pebbles 
 against his window. He looked out into a chill 
 dawn. 
 
 "Who is it? "he called. 
 
 A cough answered him, and Livingstone stepped 
 from the shadow of the house. 
 
 Proctor stayed his exclamation. "What is 
 it?" 
 
 Livingstone motioned to silence. " Come," said 
 his gesture. 
 
 Mr. Proctor dressed with some amusement. 
 How characteristic of Livingstone ! Pebbles and 
 secrecy consorted well with the man. 
 
 He met the schoolmaster at the gate and fol 
 lowed him in silence. Livingstone led him past 
 the mill to a distant corner of the yards, then 
 stopped and looked about him. No one was in 
 
142 THE LEGATEE 
 
 sight. He drew Mr. Proctor to his side and 
 pointed to a pile of lumber. 
 
 For a moment the schoolmaster s air of tragedy 
 was justified in the mill owner s eyes. A cone of 
 sticks lay at the edge of the lumber, and the boards 
 above showed stains of oil. 
 
 Proctor bent to the pile. It was nicely placed. 
 The prevailing winds would carry the sparks to 
 ward the mill. He rose and held out his hand. 
 
 " You have done me a great kindness, Living 
 stone. I am the more reproached that I once mis 
 judged you." His voice was alight with gratitude. 
 
 Livingstone s gravity took a deeper tone. " It 
 was contrary to my advice distinctly con 
 trary." 
 
 Mr. Proctor reconstructed his point of view. 
 " I am greatly in your debt," he said with some 
 restraint. 
 
 " No. That is what I wish to speak of. You 
 are not in my debt, nor I, I hope, in yours. You 
 saved my life the other evening I suppose," 
 Livingstone s voice stumbled at the admission, 
 " and now I have saved your mill. Are we, per 
 haps do we seem to you to be quits ? " 
 
 Proctor stared. Was Livingstone developing 
 as a humorist ? No, the growing light showed the 
 schoolmaster s face unflinchingly composed. Mr. 
 Proctor s glance dropped to the cone of sticks. 
 That, at least, was not travesty. 
 
 " An eye for an eye ? " he queried. " Certainly, 
 we are quits. Since this is a business matter an 
 exchange I call the balance in your favor." 
 
AN AWAKENING 143 
 
 Livingstone bowed. " It is not a case for incli 
 nation," he said. " The Bible reads plainly. I 
 cannot be beholden to one whose works are un 
 righteousness." 
 
 Mr. Proctor spent the morning in his office 
 thinking. He had a business crisis to meet, but 
 his mind had room for Katherine Edmister and 
 Livingstone. What troubles might this fiery child 
 not bring upon herself if she persisted in her de 
 fense of the schoolmaster ? It was as if in answer 
 to his thought that, about ten o clock, Katherine 
 knocked at his door. 
 
 He placed a chair for her with an air that tried 
 to be usual and failed. Her embarrassment did 
 not bode well for the interview. What new com 
 plication was he to meet ? 
 
 " Father was n t at home," she explained hur 
 riedly, " and 1 could n t wait for him. I had to 
 come. I ve seen Mr. Livingstone. He told me 
 about the lumber." 
 
 The man s face changed. It had not occurred 
 to him that Livingstone would spread the tale. 
 
 Katherine read his silence rightly. " You don t 
 like his having told me. But I don t think that he 
 will tell any one else. Of course he would tell me." 
 
 Mr. Proctor tapped the table. All women had 
 their crudities he thought. They seemed denied 
 the reticence that instinct gave to men. 
 
 " Don t you go to school ? " he asked absently. 
 
 Katherine s brows lifted. " No. Father de 
 cided about a week ago that knowledge was not 
 seemly for a woman. I m a little sorry about the 
 
144 THE LEGATEE 
 
 geometry. However, that is n t what I came to 
 say." 
 
 Mr. Proctor leaned back. She had come to 
 make another plea for Livingstone but for what ? 
 He did not feel interested to hear. 
 
 " Never mind what you canie to say. Don t you 
 think we re all tired of reasons ? Everything in 
 Wilsonport is done with a purpose. Suppose that 
 you forget you had a moral." 
 
 To his surprise she showed him a flitting smile. 
 
 " You re trying to save me from what you re 
 afraid I m going to do," she said, sobering. 
 " But I m not going to meddle again. It s be 
 cause I meddled before that I m here now. I 
 did n t dream of the mischief I was doing when 
 I did n t tell you about the other fire. I thought 
 it would never happen again, and you are so hard 
 on the men on the people that I could n t 
 bear But I ve tried to keep watch of your 
 lumber. Mr. Heinrich has helped. And Mr. 
 Livingstone promised to tell me if another attempt 
 was made, so he came to me to-day. Then I knew 
 that the trouble was serious, and that I ought to 
 tell you what I d found out." She stopped, 
 breathless. Her eyes were clouded. 
 
 The young man s eyes were lowered, but he 
 missed no detail of her face. " So hard on the 
 men? Miss Katherine, will you be good enough 
 to explain ? " He did not conceal his disapproval. 
 Her shielding of Livingstone he could forgive, but 
 this belated attempt to hide behind another motive 
 roused his contempt. 
 
AN AWAKENING 145 
 
 Katherine s lip escaped from her control, and 
 quivered. His censure, to her mind, was a phase 
 of his anger against the men. 
 
 " Yes, you are stern in your judgment of the 
 people." She had not meant to say this, but his 
 face opened the flood-gates, and the words escaped. 
 
 " You re not so much stern, perhaps, as con 
 temptuous, indifferent. That s much worse. You 
 don t care what happens to the men so long as 
 your Of course the men have been wrong, 
 wicked, but but " She drew herself up and 
 looked toward the door. " I must go. I did n t 
 mean to say this. I m sorry about the lumber." 
 
 The man rose. His unconscious action barred 
 her way. " What do you know of my dealings 
 with my men, Miss Katherine? Your inform 
 ant" 
 
 " Oh, but I have n t had an informant ! It s 
 yourself. Can t you see ? You hold yourself so 
 ramote, so outside it all ! I That s why I 
 made that why I did n t tell you about the other 
 attempt. I went to the church to tell you, but I 
 saw you smile " 
 
 " Don t stop ! " The young man picked up a 
 book, and dropped it. " You came to warn me, 
 and I ? Don t go. Please. Take this chair. 
 When did I smile?" 
 
 " I went to the church and looked through the 
 window, and you smiled You did n t mean it 
 as disdainful, perhaps, but you ve always smiled 
 that way since the first day, and it shows that you 
 don t care for the people. I know that you re 
 
146 THE LEGATEE 
 
 just, and the men are wrong, very wrong, but they 
 work so hard, and they re so poor ! " 
 
 " And I seem as hard to you as that. So hard 
 that you did n t dare trust me. And I thought " 
 
 " But you re not so hard," she cried, with a 
 rush of penitence. " It s only that you don t 
 understand. If you only did think of it differ 
 ently, you could do so much just as you did at 
 the kermess. I was very wrong. But I hoped 
 too much from Mr. Livingstone." 
 
 " Don t stop. Please tell me more. I can t 
 tell you how much I ve been mistaken in some 
 things. Please sit down and tell me what hap 
 pened that night." 
 
 His eyes were searching hers. Her eager face 
 was tear-wet, but he waked to the thought that 
 the day was fair. 
 
 She told the story with stormy reiteration of 
 phrase. Her interference now that she was 
 forced to put it into words seemed an incredible 
 impertinence, but she did not try to soften it. 
 
 Men, piling lumber in the yards, slouched by 
 the window as she talked, and Mr. Proctor watched 
 them. They looked heavy and sullen, and their 
 leather aprons were crusted with dirt. Yet it was 
 for them that this girl was in tears. It did not 
 once come to him that the situation held a touch 
 of the absurd. 
 
 " I ve had my lesson," she concluded. " I ve 
 had to think things out. It was man s work that 
 I tried to do, and I am a child. It was good of 
 you not to tell me that the other night. It was so 
 
AN AWAKENING 147 
 
 true that I could n t bear to hear it. But now I 11 
 have to tell you what I ve found out. That s the 
 hardest." 
 
 " I Ve had I m having my lesson, too, Miss 
 Katherine. As to what you ve found out, don t 
 tell me unless you wish." 
 
 " I must wish. It may be important. I over 
 heard I saw " 
 
 " You found some one in mischief. Perhaps I 
 can help. Was it Yngve Torstenson? Don t 
 answer. Yes, I ve been watching Yngve. Don t 
 add that to your conscience." 
 
 The girl s face relaxed ; she looked tired. " I 
 must go," she said, with sudden timidity. "You 
 won t think that I meant too much about Yngve ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor laid a hand upon her chair. 
 " Wait, it s my turn. Will you listen, Miss 
 Katherine ? I close the mill to-morrow." 
 
 "You close the mill?" 
 
 " I must reach the men in some way. If they 
 try to burn my mill, I close it. That logic should 
 impress their minds." 
 
 " But your loss ! Oh, did I do this ! " 
 
 The man s half laugh seemed fragmentary and 
 illogical. His glance, which had rested on her 
 face, wavered. " Miss Katherine, do you know 
 that you have never before sided with the task 
 master ? But I can t take your sympathy under 
 false pretenses. No, I will lose nothing. I am 
 nearly out of logs. I could bring another raft 
 from Douglas Harbor, but that is dangerous work 
 at this season. I have lumber on hand for the 
 
148 THE LEGATEE 
 
 spring trade, and my mill is insured. Do you 
 see?" 
 
 Katherine had followed his reasoning with at 
 tentive nods, and he went on. " My point of view 
 is still selfish, you see. I tell you, not that I am 
 proud of it, but that I may meet you with honesty. 
 I am simply following the path of least resistance. 
 However, the men will lose little. The work in 
 the woods begins very soon." 
 
 The girl s eyes were troubled. " It is good of 
 you to trust me this way, after I have given you 
 so much annoyance." 
 
 The man was silent a moment. " You have 
 given me many things this morning but not 
 annoyance. You say that I ve been hard. Grant 
 that I have, there s another summer coming." 
 He dwelt on the words, and smiled. " Have you 
 room for faith in me until that time ? " 
 
 She searched his face for amusement, but found 
 none. " Faith ? " she said. " Have you charity ? 
 It is the greater. I am afraid that I need it at 
 your hands." 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 " NEED A BODY CRY ? " 
 
 MR. PROCTOR S morning had been idle, but his 
 afternoon did penance for the crime. 
 
 At five o clock Cole called the men together, and 
 dismissed them for the season. He had been well 
 drilled in his interview with Mr. Proctor, and his 
 words were few. An attempt the second had 
 been made to burn the mill ; therefore it would be 
 closed. Work would probably be resumed in the 
 spring. He did not know. He went away at 
 once, to leave no opportunity for argument. 
 
 The men, too, said little. Questions would con 
 fess ignorance, and each suspected his mate of 
 greater knowledge. From the standpoint of ex 
 citement the closing of the mill made scant im 
 pression on the village. 
 
 It was mid-afternoon of the next day when Dr. 
 Edmister, driving through the tamarack swamp, 
 found Mr. Proctor by the roadside. 
 
 " Partridges ? " The doctor looked expectantly 
 at the young man s gun. " I ve heard the rascals 
 drumming." 
 
 Mr. Proctor showed an empty game bag. " I ve 
 been estimating the timber. Yes, I 11 be glad to 
 drive back with you." 
 
150 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The doctor watched him leap to the seat. The 
 young man s eyes were shining, and never had his 
 sinewy length of limb seemed more pronounced. 
 
 " Why a gun, Proctor ? For decorative pur 
 poses ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor stretched himself. "Yes, it s a 
 stage property. I wished the village to believe I 
 went a-hunting. It s as well for the people not to 
 have too accurate data of my movements. You ve 
 heard about the mill ? " 
 
 " Naturally." 
 
 " It s, as I told Miss Katherine, a gallery play. 
 It sends me home earlier and gives me a dramatic 
 exit. I told Miss Katherine " 
 
 " She told me. What does Cole say ? " 
 
 " Cole s obedient. I tried to show him that his 
 leader is a man of straw." 
 
 " His leader ? " 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Griggs is the spring that moves Liv 
 ingstone, I think, and even Cole s infected. 
 That s what the winter will do for me. Prove 
 my suspicions, and show whether this unrest is 
 serious. Dr. Griggs can t follow the men into the 
 camps." 
 
 " You 11 be away till spring ? I shall miss you." 
 The doctor s tone, which had worn an edge of re 
 straint, grew more genial. 
 
 " I m coming back in January for a week or 
 more." 
 
 The doctor turned. "In January? That s 
 new, is n t it ? I 11 be glad to see you, Proctor, 
 you ve no idea how long the winter will be, but 
 
"NEED A BODY CRY?" 151 
 
 you can t accomplish anything at that time, can 
 you?" 
 
 The young man drew a long breath. " I can 
 accomplish my pleasure. I ve never seen Wil- 
 sonport in winter dress. Then, I ought to go out 
 to my camps." 
 
 The doctor shook his head. " Too many miles 
 for a whim. You won t come. But I should wel 
 come you." 
 
 " I 11 get out here," Mr. Proctor said, as they 
 neared the village. " I ve an errand in Torsten- 
 son s wood yard." He jumped to the ground, 
 but stopped, his hand upon the seat. " There s 
 one thing, doctor. I mentioned something to you 
 the other night which I have since regretted. I 
 see now that I was wrong. It was a foolish sur 
 mise, and it has not been my habit to discuss " 
 He stopped, frowning at his own circumlocutions. 
 
 The doctor examined his whip to preserve his 
 gravity. He had never before seen Mr. Proctor 
 embarrassed, and he had a passing thought that 
 the emotion sat upon the young man well. 
 " About Katherine and Mr. Livingstone? " he as 
 sisted. " You see that you were wrong? I thought 
 so. I know my daughter no, I m not sure that 
 that statement s correct. I think, however, that 
 I can claim some knowledge of her standards. I 
 did n t consider that Livingstone matter seriously." 
 
 " But you took her out of school." 
 
 " I told you that so long as she was there I 
 must defend the teacher. Then, too, I may send 
 her away." 
 
152 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " But not before Christmas ! Will you write 
 me this winter, doctor ? " 
 
 " Yes, with pleasure but you don t leave for 
 some days yet, do you ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor smiled at the doctor s perplexity ; 
 he understood his own irrelevance well. " On the 
 next Buffalo boat," he said, as he turned away. 
 " I 11 be up before I go." 
 
 He leaped the fence of the Torstenson wood 
 yard. Yngve was there, as he had expected, and 
 turned an equally expected scowl. 
 
 The man stopped. "I want a business talk, 
 Yngve, and now s a good time. You ve seemed 
 somewhat interested in my affairs. I ve further 
 information for you. My mill is heavily insured 
 heavily. The bulk of my timber is near Doug 
 las Bay, and it is an expense and a trouble to raft 
 it from there. It would be to my present advan 
 tage if my uncle had chosen Douglas Bay for a 
 mill site. These are facts for your leisure. You 
 might repeat them to the Knights of Temperance 
 Labor Union." 
 
 Yngve, for once, did not look angry. " Do you 
 think that I was the one who tried to burn your 
 mill ? " His voice shook. 
 
 Mr. Proctor lifted his eyebrows. "I don t 
 think any more. I jump to conclusions. It s a 
 Wilsonport habit, and I ve acquired it." 
 
 The next few days saw the lumber stacked for 
 the winter and the plans for the camps arranged. 
 The arrival of the Buffalo steamer found Mr. 
 Proctor with only the good-bys waiting to be said. 
 
"NEED A BODY CRY?" 153 
 
 It was a dreary day. Winter was threatening, 
 and the air promised snow. Drab clouds wrapped 
 lake and forest. Everywhere was discomfort, yet 
 Mr. Proctor, walking with difficulty on the ridges 
 of frozen ground, showed no pleasure in the 
 thought of his release. It was Olive Cole who 
 discovered the thoughtful regret in his good-by. 
 
 " You re sorry to go away," she cried trium 
 phantly. " I expect we 11 have to go to Karen to 
 find out when you re coming back." 
 
 The remark sent him to Karen with some dis 
 comfort. It occurred to him now that he had not 
 been there in some time. His neglect had not been 
 intentional, but the thought of it bred constraint. 
 
 There was answering constraint in Karen s man 
 ner. Mr. Livingstone was with her, and the at 
 mosphere hastened Mr. Proctor s adieus. 
 
 " I m I in going to join the church, Mr. 
 Proctor," Karen stammered, as she said good-by. 
 
 Livingstone stepped before her. "Karen has 
 said good-by to the world at last," he said. This 
 other good-by was evidently symbolic to his mind. 
 
 Mr. Proctor went from there to the house on 
 the bluff. He ran the last part of the way. It 
 came to him sharply that it would be a long time 
 before he could again climb that trail. 
 
 Katherine was in the yard, taking a washing 
 from the line, and she worked to the accompani 
 ment of a recitative query. " Need a body 
 cry ? : she fluted, as she contended with the 
 wind for possession of a flapping sheet. The sheet 
 conquered, her mouth was needed to hold clothes- 
 
154 THE LEGATEE 
 
 pins, but she persevered, withal in broken tones, 
 " Gin a body kiss a body, need a body cry ? 
 Mr. Proctor stopped behind her. A wrinkle, that 
 he had worn all day, disappeared, and he looked 
 care free and boyish. The question seemed per 
 plexing, and the girl went back to it. " Need a 
 body cry ? " she repeated. 
 
 " You tempt me to allay your curiosity," Mr. 
 Proctor remarked with colloquial ease. u Experi 
 ence would prove." 
 
 The girl turned so slowly that he knew her to be 
 searching for a retort. 
 
 She accepted her defeat. " My repartee is as 
 Scotch as my song," she laughed, as she dropped 
 her burden into the clothes basket. " Won t you 
 come in ? I m sorry that you re going away." 
 
 " No, I can t come in. I 11 see your father at 
 the steamer, and it s time for it now. I m glad 
 if you re sorry. But I m coming back in Janu 
 ary. Will you be here ? " 
 
 The girl sat on the edge of the clothes basket, 
 and looked at him. She balanced herself craftily, 
 her chin in her hands. " I 11 always be here, I 
 think. How I d like not to be just for a 
 little time ! Have you any idea how I envy you ? 
 Not the going nor the coming, perhaps, but the 
 having tried both. You ought to be very happy. 
 Think of your opportunities." 
 
 "I do think," the man solemnly replied. " I ve 
 thought of my opportunities steadily for nearly a 
 week. The trouble is, I have n t used them as I 
 might. That s why I m coming back in January." 
 
"NEED A BODY CRY?" 155 
 
 Katherine s cheeks grew hot. " For nearly a 
 week ? It was nearly a week ago that I went to 
 your office. Mr. Proctor, have I have I any 
 thing to do with your coming back in January ? " 
 
 The man laughed a little. " Yes," he said. 
 
 The girl sat erect on her uncertain seat, and 
 raised a troubled face. " I ve been unhappy 
 over what I said to you that day, Mr. Proctor 
 about your opportunities. And now I 11 be still 
 more so if you come back on that account. For, 
 after all, what can I know about your work with 
 the men ? I ve been thinking a great deal lately, 
 and I 11 never meddle again. I did n t mean 
 the men when I spoke just now of your opportuni 
 ties. I was thinking how wonderful it must be to 
 know the world as you do. Mr. Proctor, please 
 forget what I said that day ! " 
 
 Mr. Proctor came close to the edge of the 
 clothes basket. " Miss Katherine," he said soberly, 
 " I don t want to forget that day nor your share 
 in it. And if what you said determined me to 
 come again in January, believe me that I come 
 because I wish." 
 
 Katherine had her father s eyes. She lifted them 
 now, candid, yet questioning. " Then I m very 
 happy that you re coming back," she said. " And to 
 think that in two days you 11 be out in the world ! " 
 She stopped to laugh at herself, and her chin 
 cradled itself in her hands once more. " That s 
 what I never can realize. We seem so far away 
 so outside of things ! It does n t seem possible that 
 by the end of the week you will be in the whirl." 
 
156 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The man looked down at her. She was hum- 
 miijg to herself, and her absent eyes showed that 
 her mind was afield. Her thought was exploring 
 that outside world that chained her fancy. 
 
 " The whirl is n t so glittering, after all," he 
 said. " You re going to be a disappointed, Cinder 
 ella, when you reach the ball. I wonder " his 
 even tone tripped a little " whether you would 
 let me write to you about it while I am away 
 tell you how it looks to me now that I ve been 
 out of it for a time." 
 
 Katherine stopped humming. " Why why 
 It would be very kind of you, Mr. Proctor." 
 
 Was this pleasure ? It wore the air of embar 
 rassment and surprise. Mr. Proctor drew a long 
 breath. 
 
 " But I m not a philanthropist, Miss Kather 
 ine. I demand my wage. If I write to you I 
 shall expect letters in return. You see the bald 
 ness of my ruse. Will you write to me ? " 
 
 " But I ve never written letters except, of 
 course, to Adrien, and duty letters to aunts I ve 
 never seen. But perhaps to you and I would 
 so like your letters " she looked up in his face, 
 and misread its sudden intensity. " No ! " she 
 cried with swift panic. " You re not saying all 
 that you think again. I ve been mistaken. It s 
 a jest to you here still, and my letters would be 
 part of it." 
 
 A whistle checked the hot denial on the man s 
 tongue. Why say more? Nothing but deeds 
 would convince this girl. 
 
"NEED A BODY CRY?" 157 
 
 " There s the steamer." He was the older man 
 once more. " I 11 have to run to make it. Say 
 good-by to Mr. and Mrs. Green for me, please." 
 He held the girl s hand for a moment. " I asked 
 for your faith. It did n t prove that of the 
 mustard seed, did it? Perhaps I can make it 
 different when I come again. Good-by." 
 
 He was some rods down the trail when Kather- 
 ine started after him. 
 
 " Mr. Proctor, Mr. Proctor ! " she called. 
 
 But the wind carried her words away, and the 
 man ran on unheeding. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA 
 
 JANUARY was still young when Mr. Proctor 
 drove into Wilsonport. 
 
 He checked his horse at the edge of the village 
 and turned to the fur-wrapped figure beside him. 
 " There it is, Philip." 
 
 The figure laughed. " It s what I expected. 
 Brown huts and a forest. What in the world did 
 you come back for ? " 
 
 " Why did you insist on coming with me ? I 
 didn t" 
 
 " No, you did n t urge me. Say, Bob, that s 
 not so bad. Look at the skaters ! " 
 
 The skaters numbered most of the village, for it 
 was Saturday afternoon, and the ice blue-black. 
 A crowd blackened the shore, and from pier to 
 lighthouse the sun lighted a tropic flowering of 
 scarlet hoods. Mr. Proctor hastened at the sight. 
 
 The beat of hoofs brought Jessie to the door. 
 Her face suggested that the unexpected was always 
 the unpleasant. 
 
 " This is my cousin, Mr. Cabell," Mr. Proctor 
 explained. " You 11 have to thaw him out care 
 fully, Jessie. I *m going down on the ice." 
 
 Mr. Proctor s springing step as he walked 
 
THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA 159 
 
 toward the shore came from a pulse that would 
 not beat calmly. Yes, he had certainly come be 
 cause he wished. The crowd upon the ice was 
 merry ; he caught laughter and scraps of song, 
 and the sound chimed well with his own pleasure. 
 These people were kindly and happy-hearted after 
 all. It was part of his supercilious past that he 
 had thought them otherwise. That he had closed 
 his mill because his men had tried to burn it, 
 slipped from his memory. 
 
 The news of his coming ran a furlong before, 
 and he reached the ice the focus of amazed glances. 
 There was silence ; so still it was that from out by 
 the lighthouse could be heard the click of ice to 
 steel. Mr. Proctor sturdily told himself that this 
 was embarrassment, and persisted in his greetings. 
 He met but indifferent response, and when the 
 crowd divided, even as the Red Sea, and indicated 
 a path to Karen Torstenson, he took it gladly. 
 
 But the end of the path held Mr. Livingstone 
 as well. Karen s cheeks suggested that this was 
 a contretemps. She took a step forward, wavered 
 back to the schoolmaster, then stopped to hold out 
 a limp hand. 
 
 The months of breezy intercourse with a crowd 
 ing world dropped away from Mr. Proctor. He 
 was back in the old atmosphere of unexplained 
 hostility and misunderstanding. Again these 
 issues seemed vital. 
 
 The people were questioning now, but Mr. Proc 
 tor answered absently. He had not traveled for 
 days to talk of the roads. Chevalier, a huddled 
 
160 THE LEGATEE 
 
 bunch of misery, sat on the shore. Where was 
 the dog s mistress ? 
 
 He did not understand how his eyes found the 
 answer. Katherine was but a blue-crowned speck 
 drifting in from the lighthouse, but he knew her ; 
 no gull slanted its strong-winged flight in truer 
 lines. 
 
 As her face grew to distinctness, he saw that 
 she was smiling ; but smiling as if at her own 
 thought. She paid no heed to the other skaters. 
 Her face seemed older, more reliant. The lone 
 liness of her enjoyment gave her, to Mr. Proctor s 
 mind, a look unexpectedly remote. 
 
 She had swayed to the outskirts of the group 
 before she saw Mr. Proctor. There was a surge 
 of something to her face. Was it surprise ? The 
 man could not catalogue it, though he looked in 
 tently. 
 
 She dropped her arms with a little gesture of 
 greeting and dismay, and he went toward her. 
 He had not pictured this meeting with half the 
 village to assist. 
 
 " I did n t think you meant it ! " She held out 
 a mittened hand. 
 
 " I meant it absurdly. I meant it more and 
 more with every day. I could n t have stayed 
 away." 
 
 She looked at him with serious consideration. 
 " Father will be so glad to see you ! He s en 
 joyed your letters. He was always brighter after 
 they came. This winter the winters are always 
 long." 
 
THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA 161 
 
 He placed his back to the crowd. " The winter 
 has been a century. There were days when I 
 knew that January would never come." 
 
 Her lower lip took refuge between her teeth. 
 " Did you really care ? " Her eyes raised slowly 
 but not to where Mr. Proctor s were waiting. 
 " Why, who is that ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor turned. " My cousin, Philip Ca- 
 bell," he said curtly. " You 11 like him, I think." 
 
 It would have been churlish not to like the fig 
 ure that swung down the slight incline. Even in 
 the disguise of the heavy overcoat, it was debonair 
 and youthfully assured. 
 
 Mr. Cabell acknowledged the many introduc 
 tions with smiling suavity, but went straight to 
 ward what he wanted. The gleam of Karen s 
 hair had determined his course when he was yet 
 yards away, and a further view made him politely 
 deaf to his cousin s whispered suggestions. 
 
 Mr. Proctor turned again to Katherine. Her 
 gravity had vanished; this was the face of the 
 child who had danced with Adrien upon the light 
 house rock. She was looking at his cousin. 
 
 44 A new species ? " he asked. 
 
 She laughed with frank confession of her curi 
 osity. " Yes, he is different, but " her glance 
 came back " so are you to-day, for the matter 
 of that. No, it s not your coat. Your manner s 
 different, and you look so so so alert. Mr. 
 Cabell looks the same way as if he must seize 
 things as they came. It s the air of the world, I 
 think. Adrien s letters are beginning to sound as 
 you look." 
 
162 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " You, too, are different. Have you grown as 
 much wiser as you are taller? Your father wrote 
 me that you had n t changed. Fathers are poor 
 authorities. I wonder where I can find yours 
 now." 
 
 " He s out in the country. I m so glad I look 
 taller." She executed an elaborate dance step on 
 her tottering skates. " Why, that s father now ! 
 See, driving down by the fish shanties ! I can 
 skate down there and catch him. He has to go 
 away now, I know, but he 11 want to see you this 
 evening." 
 
 She tucked Chevalier under her arm and was 
 away. Mr. Proctor turned to his cousin. " Come, 
 Philip 1 " 
 
 " Whom were you talking with ? " Philip asked, 
 as they walked toward the house. " She blew 
 away like thistle-down. I d like to skate with 
 her." 
 
 " I introduced you. Your wits deserted when 
 you saw Miss Torstenson." 
 
 " T is true, t is true, I am undone ! " the 
 young man hummed ; then he looked at his cousin, 
 and his own face sobered. " See here, old chap," 
 a caressing tone came to him as easily as to a 
 woman, " you re in the dickens of a temper. If 
 I m poaching with Miss Torstenson, say so." 
 
 Mr. Proctor looked amused. " Oh, to be young 
 enough to see game in every thicket I " he said, 
 with a half sigh. 
 
 Dr. Edmister came that evening. Had Mr. 
 Proctor forgotten his friends on the bluff that 
 
THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA 163 
 
 they should both look older ? It seemed, too, that 
 the doctor s reticence had deepened. Of Mr. 
 Proctor s matters he talked with interest, but the 
 tale of his own winter he put by. 
 
 " How long will you be here, Proctor ? " he 
 asked at length. 
 
 Mr. Proctor studied his answer unduly. " That 
 will depend. A day or a month as it seems 
 wise. We go to the camps to-morrow morning. 
 I 11 get that over, then play." 
 
 Two days later the cousins returned from the 
 camps. 
 
 " I had to drag Philip away," Mr. Proctor said 
 to Dr. Edmister, who came down to see them. 
 " He cried for a red cap with a tassel." 
 
 " Did you see much of the men ? " the doctor 
 asked. 
 
 " Really nothing. I had Cole to see, and De- 
 tiere. And then, I did n t make this trip to see 
 the men." 
 
 " I think that he made this trip to see you, Dr. 
 Edmister," Philip interposed. " I can t find any 
 other reason." 
 
 Mr. Proctor looked his annoyance. " What 
 has become of Dr. Griggs ? " he asked rather hur 
 riedly. " I suppose he s still here ? " 
 
 It was the doctor s turn to look evasive. " Yes, 
 he s here. What s this affair you re giving, 
 Proctor ? You ve spread destruction in my house 
 hold. Karen is there, and the children are dress 
 making all over the place. I ve sat on a needle 
 twice already." 
 
164 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Oh, it s this infant Philip," Mr. Proctor said, 
 with a shrug of resignation. " He s interested in 
 types, and insisted that I turn showman. I can t 
 make him see that this is a serious, hard-working 
 life. He acts as if it were a dialect play produced 
 for his benefit." 
 
 The doctor smiled ; he had seen the glance of 
 affection that passed between the cousins. " I 
 wonder if you know how you ve changed, Proc 
 tor," he said. " You re saying of your cousin 
 what we used to say of you. But this party to 
 night is everybody coming? " 
 
 " The village so far as I could include it. 
 You 11 come?" 
 
 " Yes, I 11 bring the girls. I m glad you re 
 doing this. It s what we need wholesome 
 amusement to bind us together. Even the young 
 people get tired of each other. I don t know 
 when Karen has been at the house before. Well, 
 good-by till evening." 
 
 The doctor found his daughter waiting for him. 
 " How do you like him ? " she demanded. 
 
 The doctor seated himself rather wearily. 
 44 This explosion refers to Mr. Cabell ? He seems 
 a decent enough youth." 
 
 The girl s brows remonstrated. " Oh, is n t he 
 more than that ? This is my first party, remem 
 ber." 
 
 44 And Mr. Cabell is the party ? What about 
 Mr. Proctor ? " 
 
 Katherine waltzed to the window. " Mr. Proc 
 tor is Wilsonport, and hard work, and gravity. 
 
THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA 165 
 
 Mr. Cabell is the world and the frivols thereof. 
 I wish that eight o clock would come." 
 
 The doctor pulled his mustache. " Is Karen 
 equally expectant ? " 
 
 The girl smiled rather soberly. " Karen is be 
 tween two fires," she said. " She wants to go 
 and she does n t. Of course Mr. Livingstone ob 
 jects to her going. Mr. Livingstone is n t looking 
 well. I wish that his Dr. Griggs would take bet 
 ter care of him." 
 
 Her father frowned. " Don t let me hear you 
 say his Dr. Griggs again, Katherine. It is a 
 cheap form of satire and is in very poor taste. 
 Dr. Griggs, remember." 
 
 Katherine went over and snuggled her face in 
 her father s neck in one of her rare caresses. 
 " I don t want to remember him," she whispered. 
 " Daddy, you have n t been very busy this winter. 
 Is it a distressingly healthy year ? " 
 
 Her father pulled her down upon his lap. 
 " Katherine," he said, with gravity that she knew 
 meant emotion, "are you doing Dr. Griggs the 
 honor to be jealous of him for me ? If you are, I 
 have lost the fight that I have made for you from 
 babyhood. Small personalities and rivalries are 
 the curse of village life. I can t do much, here in 
 the woods, to equip you for life, but I can at least 
 send you out with broad horizons and a horror 
 a horror, I say of petty strivings." The catch 
 in his voice alarmed him, and he stopped with a 
 little laugh. " Will you horror to please me ? " 
 he added, as he stood her on her feet. 
 
166 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " I will horror," she promised firmly, and there 
 were tears of determination in her eyes. 
 
 Karen dressed early that evening, and sat, a 
 completed picture, in her blue gown and coroneted 
 braids, but Katherine loitered with the air of one 
 who would prolong a too-fleeting joy. 
 
 " There ! " She perched upon the bed, and fit 
 ted a black satin slipper on a foot whose neatness 
 she eyed with open complacence. " My mother s 
 slippers ! I may be Wilsonport as to my head, 
 but these be the feet of sophistication sophisti 
 cation of some years back, but still sophistication. 
 If I lose courage when Mr. Cabell speaks to me, 
 I ll put out a foot, and reassure myself. How 
 do I look, Karen?" 
 
 " I don t know," demurred Karen. " Could n t 
 you wear your red dress ? It s real pretty." 
 
 " And this is n t pretty ? " Katherine went to 
 the mirror, and studied her reflection. Her plain 
 black gown was cut to show an oblong of white 
 throat, and she had edged the opening with gulls 
 breasts. The slender black-gowned figure, with its 
 bands of shining white, had a look of bizarre dis 
 tinction which comforted her self-esteem. 
 
 " It s kind of pretty," Karen admitted, " but it s 
 so queer ! Won t Mr. Cabell be astonished ? " 
 
 " We could n t astonish Mr. Cabell." Katherine 
 executed a pirouette of joy at the thought. " He 
 came here for that express purpose. There ! When 
 I get my fan I 11 be ready. I covered an old fan 
 with the gulls breasts, too. Don t you see, Karen, 
 we re an interesting sort of aborigine to Mr. Ca- 
 
THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA 167 
 
 bell ? He d consider it quite in character to find 
 us in war paint and feathers. I can t oblige him 
 as to the paint, I wonder what rouge is like, 
 but I ve been assembling the feathers against just 
 such an emergency. Let s see what father says." 
 
 Dr. Edmister bent upon them the meditative look 
 that he would have given a new insect. " Karen 
 looks very well," he gravely said, " but you, Kath- 
 erine, are you quite quite usual?" 
 
 " On the contrary," she had equal solemnity, 
 "I am most unusual. The question is, Am I 
 effectively so ? If you were a young man, and had 
 come from somewhere into nowhere, what would 
 you say ? " 
 
 " I don t know. I am an old man, and am very 
 distinctly somewhere. As it is, I should say that 
 you were a stranger. You may be effective, but 
 you are not of my previous acquaintance." 
 
 And that was what Mr. Proctor s eyes said when 
 he met the doctor s daughter that evening. Kath- 
 erine thought that his silence, as he greeted her, 
 was disapproval. But it was not that. 
 
 Philip crossed the room, and clutched his cousin 
 by the sleeve. 
 
 " Who," he demanded, " is Lady Patricia, and 
 why did n t you tell me ? " 
 
 "Miss Torstenson? You talked with her the 
 other day." 
 
 " I talked with a milkmaid. There she is now, 
 by the way, and does n t she look pretty ! But Lady 
 Patricia ! She s a Malbone miniature. Are you 
 going to introduce me or not? " 
 
168 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Mr. Proctor drew in his breath. " If you mean 
 Miss Edmister, go and speak to her. You ve been 
 introduced twice already. But, Philip, don t 
 don t spoil her." 
 
 Mr. Proctor himself found time to spoil no one 
 by undue attention. The response to his invitation 
 had proved embarrassingly feminine. Where were 
 the men ? Not all of them were in the camps. And 
 why, if they disdained this hospitality, had they 
 permitted their wives and daughters to accept? 
 Perhaps, Mr. Proctor thought, they could not help 
 themselves ; women, he knew, would overlook an 
 antagonism rather than forego a joy. In the mean 
 time, these wives and daughters were his guests, 
 and he had the instinct of the host. The few men 
 who were dancing showed their preferences without 
 check, and he found the binding of the wounds of 
 the neglected an absorbing care. 
 
 Katherine was not among the neglected. Philip 
 was with her constantly, and her face was radiant. 
 It was late in the evening before Mr. Proctor could 
 go to her. Her eyes welcomed him, but told him 
 that he had not been missed. He stood in silence 
 for a moment, playing with the feathers of her fan. 
 
 " Are you having a good time, Cinderella?" he 
 finally asked. 
 
 " The best in my life. The very best in my life." 
 
 " Is power so sweet ? There s a world of good 
 times waiting you." 
 
 " But never but one first time," her enjoyment 
 bubbled in laughter, " and never but one I m 
 going to tell you something. I Ve never known 
 
THE DEBUT OF LADY PATRICIA 169 
 
 the feeling of individuality before. I ve always 
 had attention at second-hand it was Karen s 
 first. If she was busy, people it has n t been 
 men alone talked to me. Sometimes I Ve wished, 
 a little bit, that people would come to me first." 
 
 " But you ve been a child ! " The man explored 
 the anatomy of the girl s fan, and a fringe of down 
 fell upon his knee. 
 
 " Oh, but children have their rivalries ! Not " 
 she was still smiling happily " that Karen is 
 to blame that people love her and Karen is my 
 friend. But she s had admiration enough to spare 
 this to me, and it has been pleasant that Mr. 
 Cabell did n t watch Karen while he was talking 
 to me." 
 
 "A man s thought doesn t always follow his 
 eyes, Miss Katherine," Mr. Proctor said bluntly. 
 " My eyes, for instance, have n t been with you this 
 evening. My thoughts have." 
 
 Katherine s ready flush crept even to her throat. 
 " Was I dancing too much with Mr. Cabell ? I ve 
 no one to tell me these things. Father does n t 
 notice." 
 
 The man looked at her resignedly. He felt 
 himself stiffening into the aged relative that she 
 thought him. " My contention is not that you 
 danced too much with Philip," he said senten- 
 tiously, " but too little with me. Come. I asked 
 Heinrich that the next be a waltz. May I have 
 it ? " He rose and bowed formally. 
 
 The girl looked perplexed. "Mr. Cabell 
 asked" 
 
170 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " And Mr. Proctor asks now. Will you come, 
 Miss Katherine ? " 
 
 Heinrich, playing with half-shut eyes, looked 
 up to see these two together. He hesitated ; then 
 changed his melody. It was the air that he had 
 played upon the lighthouse rock that he selected 
 now, and he smiled to himself as he remembered. 
 
 Mr. Proctor remembered too, but he did not 
 smile. He had been blind that August day. Could 
 he live it again, Katherine should not say that 
 Philip was the first to pay her tribute. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A WINTER BLOSSOMING 
 
 " LADY PATRICIA and I are planning a skating 
 party for to-night," Philip announced at the break 
 fast table the next morning. " Too bad you don t 
 skate." 
 
 Mr. Proctor pushed his plate away. " See here, 
 Philip, does Miss Edmister permit your your 
 familiarities ? " 
 
 " Calling her Lady Patricia ? I have n t tried 
 it yet. But I m going to." 
 
 " You 11 not have much time. I think we 11 go 
 back to-morrow." 
 
 Philip rose. A sudden tightening of his lips 
 made his face singularly like his cousin s. " I don t 
 want to leave yet, Bob. You know it is n t neces 
 sary. You spoke of staying two weeks. We ve 
 planned a lot of things. We go to the lighthouse 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " * We is Miss Edmister ? " 
 
 " Well, why not ? I ve sense enough to appre 
 ciate her, if you don t." 
 
 " I do appreciate her." 
 
 " Not as you do Miss Torstenson. It s odd that 
 you don t see the difference. You used to be some 
 thing of of an epicure about women. And you 
 danced with Lady Patricia only once ! " 
 
172 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Mr. Proctor laughed indulgently. " Your dances 
 with her should keep the balance. You re no epi 
 cure in your pleasures, my boy." He walked over, 
 and laid a hand on his cousin s shoulder. " See 
 here, Philip Cabell, I m not going to turn you 
 out of my house, and you shall stay as long as you 
 wish, but Remember, Philip, that you begged 
 me not to stay more than a week. Are you going 
 to change your plans for a girl that you 11 never 
 see again ? " 
 
 The young man reddened. " Nonsense ! It s 
 the country, and the people but that girl is all 
 right. You 11 stay?" 
 
 Yes, Mr. Proctor would stay, though he ques 
 tioned his judgment even as he promised. He was 
 irritated with his own feeling of the importance 
 of this decision. Wilsonport, he decided, destroyed 
 his point of view, and gave an air of potential 
 tragedy to the simplest action. 
 
 He was late in joining the skating party that 
 evening. When he did, he went at once to Kath- 
 erine ; she had stopped for a moment by the bon 
 fire, Philip beside her. 
 
 " Philip has had his share," the man said. 
 " Will you come with me, Miss Katherine ? " 
 
 " But you re not skating " Philip looked 
 at his cousin s feet and whistled. " Better try it 
 alone," he warned. 
 
 "Let me help," Katherine interrupted. She 
 took Mr. Proctor s arm, with the avowed partisan 
 ship that women give the helpless. 
 
 Mr. Proctor timed his stroke to hers without 
 
A WINTER BLOSSOMING 173 
 
 answer, and soon the fire fell behind. It was a 
 phantasmal world that lay before them, and the 
 moon reigned queen. 
 
 " But you do skate, after all," she said. 
 
 " Never until to-day. I ve practiced out by 
 the lighthouse all the afternoon. I did it that I 
 might skate with you to-night." 
 
 She gave him the back of a hood to study. 
 
 " I did it," he went on, " not only for the plea 
 sure of being with you, but to convince you that 
 I am sometimes in earnest. You accused me of 
 making everything in connection with Wilsonport 
 a jest." 
 
 She turned a curiously sobered face. " I tried 
 before you went away to tell you that I was sorry 
 for that speech. I followed and called, but you 
 didn t hear me." 
 
 " And you would have written to me after all ? " 
 
 Before she could reply, Ferdinante Lauzeone 
 swung across their path. She was skating alone. 
 Her handsome mouth took a straight line as she 
 passed Katherine, and her eyes stared immovably 
 in front. 
 
 Mr. Proctor turned to the girl beside him. Her 
 eyes were full of tears. She felt his glance, and 
 her free hand flew to shield her face. But her 
 control had snapped. She dropped on a log that 
 was frozen in the ice at their feet, and hid her face 
 in her hands. Her shoulders told of the sobs that 
 she was struggling to conquer. 
 
 The man looked down at her in dumb unhappi- 
 ness. He could do so little, and he felt so much ! 
 
174 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The girl s small figure looked incredibly lonely in 
 the pallid light. Yet all his chivalry begged him 
 to walk warily, not to show the emotion that was 
 clutching him, and that she would read as pity. 
 
 She raised a calming face. " Does n t this show 
 that I trust you though I did n t intend to do 
 it?" 
 
 He substituted his expansive handkerchief for 
 her tear-wet one, and helped her to her feet. 
 " You must skate or you 11 take cold," he said, 
 with gentle authority that showed no kinship with 
 his manner of ten minutes before. " And now 
 suppose that you trust me more." 
 
 " I ve wanted to cry about this all winter 
 and have n t. It s foolish to care so much. But 
 Ferdinante won t speak to me, and others seem to 
 feel the same way. It s about Adrien. Ferdi- 
 nante feels that I ve taken him away from her 
 and from his people." 
 
 " But he s at school ? " 
 
 " They think it s my influence that sent him 
 there. And perhaps they are right, and it was n t 
 wise for him to go. His letters sound unhappy. 
 But I wish that Ferdinante could know that I 
 would n t take him from her that I wanted him 
 to have an education that he might do more for his 
 people, not to separate him from them." 
 
 " Why is he unhappy? " 
 
 The girl smiled a little wearily. Now that the 
 storm had passed, she was the Katherine whom he 
 had seen upon the ice before Philip appeared, a 
 grave and somewhat lonely looking woman. 
 

 A WINTER BLOSSOMING 175 
 
 " I don t know," she said. " You will under 
 stand better than I because you know the world. 
 I m afraid that he s found that education does n t 
 stand for what he expected. He thought it was 
 all that he lacked, and now he finds that there are 
 other distinctions." 
 
 " It s the old confounding of knowledge with 
 culture, but poor Adrien ! " 
 
 " I may be imagining this. He does n t say it. 
 Only he s talking Socialism and equality of mind. 
 We don t know distinctions here in Wilsonport, 
 and it s hard to remember them." 
 
 " But that is n t all, Miss Katherine." 
 
 " No," she looked at him with the frankest con 
 fidence, " it is n t. But I think that I d better 
 not tell you the rest now. In the spring, perhaps, 
 I will, for it s about father. There s Karen. 
 Can we skate that way? I d like to speak to 
 her." 
 
 They were within a few strokes of Karen when 
 the man who was skating with her turned his head. 
 Katherine stopped. " That is Mr. Livingstone," 
 she said softly. " Let s go the other way." 
 
 Mr. Proctor did not move. " Is Mr. Living 
 stone unpleasant ? Why should n t we speak 
 to Karen?" 
 
 The girl s brows lifted. " Reasons are Wilson- 
 portish ? " Then she dropped her flash of light 
 ness. "It s not Karen s fault that Mr. Living 
 stone does n t like to have her with me. And I 
 can understand his side of it. I can t look at life 
 as he does, and he thinks my ways mischievous. 
 
176 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Though he should know that I would n t influence 
 Karen." 
 
 " And Karen obeys him, while you stay on that 
 hill alone ! " 
 
 Katherine stiffened ever so slightly. "That 
 hill is home and Karen does come to see me. 
 She was there yesterday. But Mr. Livingstone 
 makes her unhappy if he sees her with me." 
 
 " Is their engagement announced ? " the man 
 asked. 
 
 "We don t announce engagements in Wilson- 
 port. We have understandings. Don t think 
 I m lonely, Mr. Proctor. I have n t cried all win 
 ter as I did to-night. I don t know why I did it. 
 And I m having such a good time since you and 
 Mr. Cabell came 1 " 
 
 In some way the air cleared at the sound of 
 Philip s name. The girl s mouth quirked into 
 dimples at thought of this good time, and her 
 glance sought the shore. Philip was standing by 
 the fire, his arms folded in Napoleonic loneliness. 
 It was an attitude that needed no commentary, 
 and even Mr. Proctor laughed. 
 
 Katherine laughed too. Her face broke into 
 rollicking youth and denied all memory of her 
 tears. 
 
 " Suppose that we skate faster." She dropped 
 his arm, and executed an elaborate spiral for sheer 
 joy in her skill. " I want to run away from my 
 perplexities." 
 
 Mr. Proctor turned their course toward the fire. 
 Katherine would not run far from her perplexities, 
 
A WINTER BLOSSOMING 177 
 
 he saw, if lie ran by her side. It was Philip who, 
 by his very lack of knowledge, stood for rest and 
 forgetfulness. He gave her into Philip s keeping, 
 with the sharp consciousness that her eyes had 
 again grown happy. 
 
 Not that he resented her happiness. Until her 
 tears had unmanned him, it had not come to him 
 how vital it was to his own well-being that this 
 girl should always smile. The hot impulse to as 
 sert his own claims passed. His longing to see 
 this wayward, frank-eyed child had brought him 
 many miles ; his deeper new-born longing to save 
 the child from the burdens of her fast-crowding 
 womanhood tied his hands now that he was here. 
 For she had given him trust, confidence. The 
 simplicity of her faith in him pledged him to the 
 attitude of confessor for a time. And the spring 
 was coming. 
 
 " Will you send your daughter away before 
 spring ? " he asked the doctor the next day. 
 " You spoke of it at one time." 
 
 The doctor s eyes fell. "There are obstacles 
 that I had not foreseen. It looks increasingly 
 difficult to arrange her going." 
 
 Mr. Proctor stiffened his resolve. " Dr. Ed- 
 mister, is anything wrong? I may be fanciful, 
 but I ve been disturbed by " 
 
 "By what I haven t said?" The doctor laid 
 his hand for an instant on the young man s 
 shoulder. " Don t mind my silence, Proctor. I m 
 cursed with a dumb devil of late. But it s good 
 to have you here ! No, things have n t been quite 
 
178 THE LEGATEE 
 
 as I d wish them, but I 11 talk It over with you 
 in the spring. It is n t anything that touches your 
 business, of course, else I d tell you now." 
 
 " The truth is that what touches your household 
 touches my business, or what I should like to 
 make my business," the young man dared. " I 11 
 go with you, if you re going home. I want to see 
 Miss Katherine." 
 
 But the horseman who brought the tri-weekly 
 mail was standing before the post office, and his 
 bag had letters for Mr. Proctor. Mr. Proctor 
 read them, and snapped them into his pocket. 
 
 "It means leaving to-morrow," he said, "and 
 riding out to see Cole this afternoon. I thought I 
 had my wires better laid." 
 
 Yet he went first to the house on the bluff. 
 Katherine sat with Philip in the living-room, but 
 Mr. Proctor went at once to her side. 
 
 " Will you come in the other room with me ? " 
 he asked. " I want to see you alone." 
 
 Katherine followed instantly. Her face, as the 
 man saw to his swift chagrin, paled a little. 
 
 " I wish that I did n t always do the wrong 
 thing with you. I did n t mean to frighten you. 
 It s just that I learned five minutes ago that I 
 must leave to-morrow, and I wanted to see you 
 first." 
 
 The girl s eyes questioned. 
 
 " It s only this. I have to ride to the camp 
 to-night, so must talk fast. Miss Katherine, I ve 
 been distressed over what you told me the other 
 night. I can supply a great deal that you did n t 
 
A WINTER BLOSSOMING 179 
 
 say. I hoped to talk with you again, and at 
 length. But I ve time for only one question. I 
 must leave now, but if I come back in a few 
 weeks, say can I be of service ? Will you let 
 me come ? Can I do anything ? " 
 
 The girl turned from him, and hid her face 
 against the door. 
 
 " No, no ! " she said. " You can t do anything. 
 But to think that you would do this for us ! " 
 
 " You mean that absolutely ? You wish me not 
 to come ? " 
 
 " I mean absolutely that it would be unwise for 
 you to come. Indeed, Mr. Proctor, it would n t 
 do. It would n t do on your own account. Your 
 men " 
 
 " My men hate me. The few who are here re 
 fused to dance under my roof. But that does n t 
 matter. I will make it different in the spring. 
 Nothing is of consequence now, but that something 
 has hurt you and your father. What, I cannot 
 understand." 
 
 " Don t try to understand. Perhaps it will 
 change before spring. And you would have come 
 back for father ! " 
 
 " Not for your father alone. You are giving 
 me confidence. It has been hard-won. Will you 
 trust me again in the spring, Katherine ? " 
 
 He had never before forgotten the prefix. Her 
 color flamed, but she gripped her hands hard, and 
 forced her eyes to meet his own with candor. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I will trust you again in the 
 spring." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE GATE IS BARKED 
 
 SPRING is an elastic term ; Mr. Proctor under 
 stood it to mean the first steamer of the season. 
 
 The steamer was unexpected, and there were 
 few men upon the pier. Mr. Proctor greeted them 
 briefly. Whether his greetings were returned was 
 not of moment. What was of moment was that 
 he had not heard from Dr. Edmister in some time, 
 and that he was going at once to the house on the 
 bluff. 
 
 He went up the trail with unseeing eyes. Sum 
 mer beckoned from among the budding birches, 
 but the sorceries of the woodland were not for him 
 that day. 
 
 Vision returned rudely. He reached the doc 
 tor s gate, to find it barred. A conspicuously let 
 tered scarlet-fever sign was nailed to the bar, and 
 a note beneath begged all who read to respect the 
 quarantine. 
 
 Mr. Proctor considered the notice long, and 
 with frowning intent. Once he placed a hand 
 upon the fence as if to vault it. In the end he 
 walked rapidly down the trail. 
 
 As he passed the schoolhouse the children were 
 singing ; Livingstone would be within. Fear, 
 
THE GATE IS BARRED 181 
 
 which ran hot behind Mr. Proctor, pushed him up 
 the steps. What matter that Livingstone was 
 unfriendly! He was seeking a voice that could 
 answer questions. As well Livingstone as any. 
 
 He stepped to the open door. " One question, 
 Livingstone ! I ve been up to the doctor s. Who 
 is ill?" 
 
 The schoolmaster s surprise made him neglect 
 ful of his dignity. " 111 ? There s nobody at 
 Dr. Griggs s. He just went by." 
 
 It seemed a senseless evasion, but Mr. Proctor s 
 voice was even. 
 
 " I meant Dr. Edmister. Is he ill ? " 
 
 The light of curiosity in Livingstone s face 
 showed that he had been misjudged. " We al 
 ways think of Dr. Griggs when any one says the 
 doctor. I was not aware that Dr. Edmister was 
 sick. What is the matter ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor went down the steps without speak 
 ing. He had no room in his thought to wonder at 
 Livingstone s ignorance. 
 
 An unusual number of people were abroad in 
 the one street. The camps had closed early for 
 lack of snow, and the men were idle ; they lounged 
 in red-shirted groups along the muddy highway. 
 
 " Olson ! Swanson ! " Mr. Proctor called. 
 " Wait ! " He reached the men. " There is a 
 scarlet-fever sign at Dr. Edmister s. Who is ill ? " 
 
 The men shook their heads. As with Living 
 stone, genuine interest stirred their eyes. 
 
 " It might be the doctor," one ruminated. " I 
 ain t seen him down town in I don t know when." 
 
182 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Mr. Proctor turned. His face was set toward the 
 bluff. Barred gates had no meaning for him now. 
 
 " Hold on, Mr. Proctor," a man called. 
 " There s Dr. Edmister coming out of your house." 
 
 The moment that passed for Mr. Proctor before 
 he could grasp Dr. Edmister s hand gave him 
 time to grow haggard. 
 
 " Is Katherine worse ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Katherine ! Katherine is all right. What is 
 the matter, Proctor ? " The doctor s lips, too, were 
 gray. His tone was almost irascible. 
 
 " Katherine is all right ? " Mr. Proctor 
 searched the doctor s face incredulously. " But 
 the sign on your gate " 
 
 " You have been there already ? " The doctor 
 turned back, and his eyes were dim ; then he 
 squared his shoulders. " No, it is n t Katherine. 
 It s the little Torkildson girl. She lived with the 
 Murphys on the Birch Creek road. They refused 
 to give her proper care, so I had to take her home. 
 I 11 go back to the house with you for a moment. 
 Jessie has heard that you are here, and is light 
 ing a sacrificial fire for you in the front room. I 
 thought that the first steamer would bring you. 
 You re looking well, Proctor." 
 
 The doctor himself was not looking well. His 
 step, as he followed Mr. Proctor to the study, was 
 inelastic. 
 
 " Have you been ill this winter, doctor ? " Mr. 
 Proctor repented his bluntness even as it passed 
 his lips. 
 
 " IU ? Nonsense ! " The doctor shrugged with 
 
THE GATE IS BARRED 183 
 
 his old impatience. " Never felt better." Yet the 
 hand that fumbled with the fastenings of his over 
 coat shook as it had not done six months before. 
 
 Mr. Proctor poked at the fire. " I could n t 
 learn anything definite. Your sign gave me a bad 
 half hour." 
 
 The doctor frowned. " But I could n t do any 
 thing else," he protested. " I could n t let the 
 child die." 
 
 The doctor s tone brought the young man to his 
 side. " You think that Katherine is going to be 
 ill," he asserted. 
 
 " I tell you I could n t do otherwise." The doc 
 tor drew his coat about him and shivered, though 
 the stove in front of him already vibrated with 
 heat. 
 
 " Whatever comes Katherine s mother would 
 have had me do the same thing. And after all, 
 scarlet fever But one s own flesh and blood 
 We re all cowards." 
 
 " Send to Brownsville. I 11 start now. I can 
 have another physician here by to-morrow noon." 
 
 " To have him find an impertinent young woman 
 who refuses to go to bed ? " The doctor shook his 
 shoulders, as if to free himself. " No, I ve in 
 fected you with my own senseless nerves. The 
 child s hardly sick yet, but I know the symptoms. 
 Let s drop the thought of it. I came down here 
 to regain my point of view." 
 
 " The quarantine " The young man stopped, 
 and beat a tattoo on his chair. " I am coming to 
 your house from now on, Dr. Edmister." 
 
184 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The doctor rose, his hat in hand. " You are 
 not coming to my house until I give you permis 
 sion." 
 
 " But you will give me permission when you 
 understand." 
 
 " I will never give you permission so long as 
 there is danger of contagion, and if you attempt 
 to come I will oppose you by force. I told you 
 once what an epidemic means in a place like this. 
 I am talking violently, for a great deal is at 
 stake." 
 
 " Because for me everything is at stake " 
 
 The doctor did not seem to hear him. " I shall 
 send you word whenever I can," he interrupted. 
 " Wait ! We 11 contrive a post office. There is 
 a hollow pine at the top of the trail." 
 
 " I will be there twice a day." 
 
 Dr. Edmister studied the rubbed carpet. "I 
 have missed you, Proctor. Have you any message 
 for Katherine ? She asked to be remembered to 
 you, by the way." 
 
 The young man bowed. " Only my warm re 
 gards. My message I will bring in person 
 when I come." 
 
 " You re coming ! " 
 
 " So long as the -news is favorable no. But 
 otherwise it will take more than force to stop 
 me." 
 
 The doctor s look softened. " I will leave the 
 messages. Good-by." 
 
 The young man wakened as the doctor walked 
 away. He realized, suddenly, how fragmentary 
 
THE GATE IS BARRED 185 
 
 their talk had been ; how little interest he had 
 shown in the doctor s greeting. A pang of belated 
 hospitality dulled, for a moment, the ache of 
 anxiety that he felt had been his companion for 
 years, instead of for an hour. Well, there would 
 come a day when Dr. Edmister would understand. 
 
 "There would come a day." Mr. Proctor 
 walked the floor with impatience that the day 
 must be again delayed. He was glad to see Cole 
 approaching. Cole stood for action, action that 
 was to undo the false beginning of the previous 
 year. 
 
 As usual, Cole s pauses told more than his re 
 ticent speech. He was glad that Mr. Proctor was 
 back ; it had been a strange winter little snow 
 and unseasonable heat. Logging had been diffi 
 cult for six weeks, and the men had had too much 
 leisure. It would be all right now that the mill 
 was to open. 
 
 Cole made his adieus, then came back with a 
 postscript. He delivered it with unmistakable 
 reluctance. 
 
 "What do you think about employing Yngve 
 Torstenson again ? " 
 
 " Has Yngve been in mischief ? " 
 
 " He likes to talk." Cole gave his unwilling 
 smile. " He s taking elocution lessons from Dr. 
 Griggs." 
 
 In spite of his anxiety Mr. Proctor laughed. 
 " Then employ him by all means. He will serve 
 as barometer and messenger boy." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 AN IMPULSE? 
 
 THERE was a note in the hollow tree the next 
 morning. " Katherine is ill," it read, " but I think 
 that the case promises to be a light one. Minnie 
 Torkildson is out of danger." 
 
 Mr. Proctor put the paper in his pocket, with no 
 change of look. The suggestion that the case 
 would be a light one meant nothing. He was 
 familiar with the doctor s unfailing optimism. 
 
 As he went through the village he stopped, with 
 the sudden realization that there was no one but 
 Olive Cole with whom he could share his anxiety. 
 His mouth grew hard ; he was beginning to 
 understand the loneliness in Katherine s face that 
 had troubled him in January. He studied the 
 mean houses, the squalid street. Katherine had 
 talked to him with tears of these people; had 
 called them her friends ; had said that they loved 
 her father. They were proving that she was 
 wrong. The glow of reforming zeal with which he 
 had looked forward to the year s work gave way to 
 sick distaste. He had thought to begin the season 
 with a talk to the men ; he was in no mood for it 
 Stow. He welcomed the work that lay before him, 
 but he knew that he would do it stolidly. The 
 
AN IMPULSE? 187 
 
 best of his thought was tarrying on the doctor s 
 bluff. 
 
 Summer arrived, in defiance of the calendar, in 
 the coming days ; the air was close and steaming. 
 People did not wonder that Mr. Proctor looked 
 fagged. He was working late in his office, and 
 walked a great deal. It was supposed that he was 
 examining the timber. 
 
 The bulletins at the hollow tree were monoto 
 nously guarded. " As well as can be expected " 
 was the favorite phrase. Mr. Proctor shared his 
 news with no one ; the forest was his confidant. 
 
 But the forest walks held compensations. What 
 matter that spring were early the birds and the 
 flowers were awaiting it. Even in the dimness of 
 woodland paths, where the snow yet lingered, the 
 arbutus dragged its rough leaves to the warmth, 
 and burst into pink-flushing beauty. Its haunt 
 ing fragrance was the breath of coming summer, 
 and the dreams that it brought wove magic from 
 the lengthening sunbeams. The birches on the 
 headland looked out from veils of misty gray that 
 heralded their robes of green. On all sides was 
 the divine unrest of birth. Old as the resurrection 
 miracle it might be, but it waked the man who 
 watched upon the doctor s trail to a new. know 
 ledge of himself and life. 
 
 He walked up the trail one day, to find Louis 
 Detiere before him. The Belgian was sitting on 
 a log near the hollow tree,, and his look estimated 
 Mr. Proctor less as a man than a possible source 
 of news. 
 
188 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " The doctor, or his girl ? " Detiere pointed to 
 the scarlet-fever sign. 
 
 " It is Miss Edmister." 
 
 " Good ! " The man stroked the column of his 
 bared neck with approval. " The doctor, he has 
 lost his nerve, and would die, but she will get well 
 the girl will." 
 
 " How do you know she will get well ? " Mr. 
 Proctor had been waiting for three weeks for this 
 assurance; he could not ignore it, whatever its 
 foundation. 
 
 " How do I know that she get well ? " The Bel 
 gian rose, and stretched his superbly muscled arms 
 above his head. " See me ! " he said arrogantly. 
 " Would not I get well ? She is like me that 
 girl. She will want to get well, and she will get 
 well. She has grit, and gets what she wants. The 
 fever pouf ! " he tossed the thought of it from 
 off his ringer tips. " But the doctor is old, and 
 give up." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 Detiere stopped to call down furies of unmen 
 tionable size and name upon the village. " The 
 people kill the doctor," he said. " All winter no 
 one came to him. They go to Dr. Griggs." 
 
 " But the men were in the camps." 
 
 " Not all. No, it was Dr. Griggs, and the doc 
 tor he know it and get old. When the people see 
 him, they go away because they are ashamed." 
 
 " Why do you admire Dr. Edmister so much, 
 Detiere ? " Mr. Proctor had walked with the Bel 
 gian to the foot of the trail. The message could 
 wait until he was alone. 
 
AN IMPULSE? 189 
 
 Detiere laughed till the woods echoed. " Why 
 do I like Dr. Edmister? Why do I like you?" 
 His look patronized even as it commended. " I 
 can do things. See ! " He tossed his open knife 
 at a distant pine, and the blade stuck quivering in 
 a knot that showed itself as target. " I can boss 
 people, and I choked a wolf with my own hands. 
 I like strong men. The people is sheep. They 
 like Dr. Griggs." 
 
 The talk with Detiere proved the turning-point. 
 " Better " ran the messages, and " Still better," 
 till there came a day when "Out of danger" 
 looked up at Mr. Proctor. The words blurred ; 
 he read them several times, as if to get their mean 
 ing. He was a long time going down the trail that 
 day. A robin was singing, and he found a clus 
 ter of bloodroot in a sheltered hollow. It would 
 be weeks before Katherine could run down the 
 path with her old dancing step, but if he could 
 help her He picked a stone from the way, and 
 trimmed some intrusive branches, while the robin 
 mocked him for his pains. 
 
 As he reached the village, he saw the smoke 
 of a departing steamer. He hastened his step. 
 There should be a package of books for him in this 
 mail. Perhaps Katherine could read soon. At all 
 events, he would send her the books, and she could 
 exult in the uncut leaves. 
 
 He saw Jessie at his side door, and made a de 
 tour to greet her. She should share in this over 
 flowing of good-will. 
 
 " Any mail ? " he shouted. " I expected a pack- 
 
190 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Jessie lifted an expressive face. " It came," she 
 said. " It s hanging up its things in the side 
 bedroom." 
 
 Mr. Proctor walked to the door of the side bed 
 room. 
 
 " Well, Philip ! " 
 
 "Hello, old chap!" The young man turned 
 his winning smile. " You did n t get my letter ? " 
 
 " Naturally not. Why did you come ? " 
 
 " Commend me to my guardian for a welcome ! 
 How is she, Robert ? " 
 
 " Miss Edmister ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did you come these thousand miles to ask that 
 question ? " 
 
 " I ve asked it now, anyway, and I d like an 
 answer. Confound you, Robert, if you ve bad 
 news, tell it ! " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Philip. She s better. 
 Out of danger." 
 
 " Good for Lady Patricia ! " The lad whistled 
 his relief. " I m awfully glad to hear it." 
 
 " You understand it will be some time before 
 you can see her ? " 
 
 " Oh, that s all right ! " Philip laughed easily. 
 " See here, Bob, don t take this so seriously. I 
 told you I was coming up some time this summer, 
 and I thought I d come now, and get the early 
 fishing. If it is n t convenient, though " 
 
 " It s always convenient." Mr. Proctor threw 
 an arm over his cousin s shoulder. " It s been 
 convenient ever since you were in kilts, you repro- 
 
AN IMPULSE? 191 
 
 bate, and you know it. I m getting the manners 
 of Wilsonport." 
 
 " You re awfully good to me. I 11 be square 
 with you, Kobert. You ve been brother and 
 cousin and guardian together. I did come to see 
 that girl, in a way. It was just because you wrote 
 that she was ill. I could n t get her out of my 
 head after that. It seemed so forlorn to think of 
 her on that hill, with no one to care what became 
 of her. And I was coming later, anyway." 
 
 Mr. Proctor smiled, a rather tired smile, that 
 came often to replace the half-cynical lightness of 
 the year before. 
 
 " I believe you re rather a credit to your guar 
 dian, after all. Well, come to supper." 
 
 A week later Philip appeared in his cousin s 
 office door. 
 
 " Dr. Edmister s coming," he announced. " If 
 that means that Lady Patricia s receiving, say a 
 good word for me." 
 
 Dr. Edmister held Mr. Proctor s hand a long 
 time. 
 
 " I 11 have another patient," he said. " You re 
 overworking." 
 
 " My hardest work has been to keep my promise 
 to you." 
 
 " I ve seen you on the trail. Well, it s over. 
 Come up to-morrow. We 11 be fumigated by that 
 time. What have you been doing, Proctor?" 
 
 " Climbing your trail. I 11 climb it with a hap 
 pier heart now." 
 
 The doctor drew a chair to the window. " How 
 
192 THE LEGATEE 
 
 blue the water is ! " he said irrelevantly. " It s a 
 glad world." 
 
 " It s a glad world for me but it has n t been. 
 May I talk seriously for a few moments, doc 
 tor ? " 
 
 The doctor buttoned his coat. " Now I wonder 
 if you re going to ask me about last winter ! " he 
 protested. " I thought I had something an anx 
 iety to share with my friend, but I find that 
 I ve not. Since Katherine is herself again I learn 
 that I love this country, and am happy in it. It s 
 a mysterious land, wild and austere, and the people 
 are like the country. But they are my people. 
 Their hearts are right, and they are worth being 
 patient with when they make mistakes. So what 
 more is there to say ? Don t misunderstand me, 
 Proctor. I would come to you first if I were in 
 perplexity." 
 
 " I think that I understand." 
 
 " Yes, I think that you do. But I ve another 
 explanation, that s not so easy. I must make it 
 before you see Katherine. I hope that you will 
 be able to understand my motive. I have told 
 my daughter nothing of your kindness in these 
 last weeks God knows that I feel it myself 
 beyond the fact that you inquired occasionally. 
 The flowers I have carried to her room but have 
 said nothing. Can you understand ? " 
 
 " Why should you They were trifling cour 
 tesies." 
 
 " They were far from trifling courtesies to me," 
 the doctor avoided his friend s eyes, " but they 
 
AN IMPULSE? 193 
 
 meant little to you, in a way, and that is what 
 Katherine would not understand. She would ex 
 aggerate. You can hardly grasp the limitations 
 of the life that she has lived. What would be the 
 courteous phrase of friendship of acquaintance, 
 even in the life that we have known would be 
 demonstrative to her. She is a grateful child, and 
 rather hungry for liking or so I have thought 
 lately. It is difficult not to say more than I mean. 
 This small concealment has been for your sake as 
 well as for hers." 
 
 Mr. Proctor lifted his head. The pallor of the 
 winter had not left his face, and he looked white 
 enough to make the doctor pause. " But suppose 
 that I wish her to exaggerate ? I have tried to tell 
 you this before. What would you say then ? " 
 
 The doctor did not reply for a moment. He 
 walked the room. " I should say," he said at 
 length, " that I was confused that I would ask 
 you to wait that this was an impulse." He came 
 back and held out his hand, looking at it with 
 scorn when he saw that it trembled. " You know 
 how I feel about you, Proctor. But I m not 
 prepared for this. Suppose that we forget it for 
 a time. We re all overstrained, and then the 
 weather. Did you ever see such heat at this time 
 of year ? The roads are dusty now." 
 
 Mr. Proctor had regained his speech and his 
 color. " My impulse, as you call it, does n t depend 
 on the state of the roads." He looked at the older 
 man with a determined smile. " If you say wait, 
 
194 THE LEGATEE 
 
 I will wait for a time. I have waited now 
 longer than you would suspect." 
 
 The doctor studied the young man. " Well, 
 come up to-morrow. And bring your cousin, if 
 he d like to come." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE MASK OF DUTY 
 
 THE cousins found Katherine on the veranda 
 the next day. She was throned in an armchair, 
 and was obviously sovereign of the occasion. Dr. 
 Edmister wore, even from the distance, the air of 
 a satellite, and Mr. Proctor s breath halted as he 
 realized again how ill the girl must have been to 
 justify such an attitude in her father the father 
 who, with all his easy catholicity, maintained, 
 even with his daughter, the distinction of an un 
 approachable reserve. 
 
 It was a wasted Katherine who greeted the young 
 men, but one whose face was aflame with renewed 
 interest in life. Her eyes defied the memory of 
 illness, and exulted in the wonder of living. The 
 happiness in her face as she welcomed her friends 
 was as impersonal as the caress of the wandering 
 breeze ; she welcomed them as she welcomed the 
 sunshine. 
 
 Mr. Proctor watched her in what he felt was in 
 excusable silence. Yet no rage at his dumbness 
 could find him words. The memory of his vigils 
 in the forest made paltry the usual phrases, and 
 those were all that he had opportunity to use. 
 Philip swept the conversation with him, and Dr. 
 Edmister sat by and used observant eyes. 
 
196 THE LEGATEE 
 
 But Mr. Proctor claimed something for himself 
 as he was leaving. 
 
 " May I come to-morrow alone ? " he asked. 
 
 As Katherine looked at him in answer, he real 
 ized how her manner had changed even since Jan 
 uary ; how steady and controlled it had become. 
 
 " Yes, come," she said. 
 
 But with the to-morrow, Katherine looked tired. 
 The radiant courage in her eyes persisted, but her 
 face showed lines. 
 
 " Don t stay long, Proctor," Dr. Edmister 
 warned, " and don t talk of anything more serious 
 than the weather that s serious enough to be 
 uncomfortable. Is n t it warm ! " 
 
 And so it was not until the end of his brief call 
 that Mr. Proctor touched upon anything that he 
 really wished to say. 
 
 " I ve a great many questions but your fa 
 ther asked me not to stray from the barometer. 
 You 11 have to talk to me a day at a time when 
 you re stronger. You remember you promised." 
 
 Katherine laced her thin fingers together, and 
 studied the water through the oblong openings 
 that she made. 
 
 " I do remember. I m glad to remember. But 
 I don t want to talk about anything in Wilsonport 
 now. It s cowardly to turn my back on what 
 has to be faced eventually, but I d like to have 
 a playtime while Mr. Cabell is here ; just as we 
 had in January. There will be time to be serious 
 when we are alone again. I ve almost forgotten 
 how to play." 
 
THE MASK OF DUTY 197 
 
 " Miss Katherine, you treat me as if I were a 
 walking homily ! I have been known to jest 
 upon compulsion." 
 
 Katherine dropped her hands, and her mouth 
 looked suddenly troubled. " But not lately," she 
 said. "You jested all the time when you first 
 came and at everything. You don t now. I 
 don t think you know how you have changed. 
 Wilsonport, and everything in it, means care and 
 gravity to you. You must have dreaded to come 
 back." 
 
 " Wilsonport means everything that is nearest 
 my heart, the home that I dream of making, 
 the This is not what I promised your father. 
 Well, we 11 agree to play. Philip is my lord para 
 mount of the art." 
 
 Yes, Katherine looked white and tired. " But 
 you 11 play too ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes, I 11 play too." 
 
 But he did not. His business pressed savagely. 
 The men were not working as they should, and ac 
 complishment lagged. A feeling of tension showed 
 even in Cole s face. 
 
 " The men are so sulky I m afraid to push 
 them," he confessed. " Perhaps it will be better 
 when this hot spell s over." 
 
 But work could not have detained Mr. Proctor 
 had there been holiday time in his spirit. There 
 was not. Philip came and went in the doctor s 
 household, with a happy assurance of welcome that 
 made it impossible for the somewhat perturbed 
 host to say him nay, and the lad frolicked with 
 
198 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Katherine through the sunshine hours with an 
 abandon that Mr. Proctor could not share. The 
 man acknowledged that he must seem stiff and un 
 adaptable, but he had reached a point where his 
 tongue betrayed him. He could not be in the 
 near presence of this girl without showing some 
 what of his mind. It would be unkind to trouble 
 her yet. And so he stayed away. Philip would 
 be leaving soon, and the summer would be long 
 and gracious in its opportunity. 
 
 But Philip did not go, and the days sped. Mr. 
 Proctor spoke at last. 
 
 " They re writing me from home, and I m at 
 the end of my excuses. I think you 11 have to 
 leave on the next steamer." 
 
 Philip chewed his lip, and walked a few paces. 
 " It s that office, I suppose. I think I 11 stay an 
 other month, and take the chances." 
 
 Mr. Proctor laid down his papers. " You 11 
 lose the chances, you mean. If they 11 take you 
 in the office after your procrastination, you go. 
 You must take this steamer." 
 
 "I must?" 
 
 " I happen to be guardian, farce that it is, and 
 you re several months short of your majority, my 
 boy. Be reasonable. You ve had a long holiday. 
 Why not go ? " 
 
 " I m not ready." 
 
 " Philip ! Philip ! Life is n t play." 
 
 The boy squared his shoulders. " No, life is n t 
 play, I suppose, nor love, nor happiness, nor any 
 thing else but grind. Oh, I did n t mean to say 
 
THE MASK OF DUTY 199 
 
 that, old chap ! But you ve been so queer lately, 
 and I don t like to be pushed off this way. Fur 
 thermore, I don t intend to go. I m not going 
 till I ve had an answer from Katherine Ed- 
 mister." 
 
 " An answer from Miss Edmister ! " 
 
 "Miss Katherine to every one else, Miss Ed- 
 mister to me ! She does n t need help in hedging 
 her dignity." 
 
 " But, Philip ! Have you spoken to her father ? " 
 
 " No. Yes, yes, I will. I m speaking to you 
 first. But you see that I can t go away." 
 
 " I see that you can go on Saturday s steamer." 
 
 " And if I refuse ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor walked the room. " Philip," he 
 laid a hand upon his cousin s shoulder, " we *re 
 saying what we 11 regret. We ve lost our balance. 
 But you must go away. This won t last. It has n t 
 root enough. You must go away." 
 
 " I am in earnest, Robert. No one but myself 
 can tell whether it has root enough. And after 
 all why not?" 
 
 " You are too young. You must wait." 
 
 " Wait till another man wins her ? And she s 
 young, too. And I ve hoped lately Oh, well, 
 I ve got to face it, whichever way it goes. Why 
 do you disapprove ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor did not answer for a time. He 
 stopped walking, and sat at his desk. " I have no 
 reason to disapprove," he said, with mechanical 
 quiet. " You have a right to your chance as well 
 as the next man. I suppose, as you say, it is suit- 
 
200 THE LEGATEE 
 
 able. You are both young, and I had n t thought 
 of it. But I must ask you to go Saturday, if pos 
 sible. There is double reason for it now. You 
 need the position." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose that I do. All right, I 11 go 
 Saturday. I in glad to have had this talk, Bob. 
 I have n t liked the distance between us." 
 
 Mr. Proctor passed his hands over his face, as if 
 to smooth the lines that he knew were hardening. 
 * The distance has been my selfishness," he said 
 slowly. " You 11 come to me, Philip, when you 
 have something to tell ?" 
 
 Philip nodded soberly. " I 11 come to you." 
 
 But Saturday came without bringing further 
 confidences. The cousins sat together on a pile of 
 bark, and waited for the steamer. 
 
 " I promised to tell you," Philip said after long 
 study of the horizon, " but I ve nothing to tell. I 
 could n t do it. I 11 write then she can t change 
 the subject." 
 
 " If she has tried to change the subject " 
 
 " I don t know that she has. I don t know that 
 she s thought about it, either way. I never could 
 get her to be serious. Oh, she s been Lady Patri 
 cia all right enough pleasant, but miles away. 
 I thought that when I said good-by but it was 
 the same story." 
 
 A scroll of smoke grew distinct on the horizon, 
 and the men rose. 
 
 "There s the steamer, Kobert." Philip held 
 out his hand. " Wish me luck. You have n t 
 done that, and I d like to hear you say it." 
 
THE MASK OF DUTY 201 
 
 Mr. Proctor took the hand and held it for a 
 moment. " What a boy it is, after all," he said. 
 " Where s your bag ? " 
 
 " Katherine likes you," Philip used the name 
 boldly, as if its sound gave him courage, " and 
 what you say counts with her always. Do your 
 best for me. Promise to do that." 
 
 The man looked at the lad whom he loved. 
 " Don t send another to do your wooing," he cried. 
 " You re leaving me alone with your Priscilla. 
 Don t ask me to promise anything. Leave my 
 hands free." 
 
 Philip s flush paled swiftly. " I beg your par 
 don I had never thought of this," he stumbled, 
 as if thinking slowly. Then his color returned, 
 burning and angry. " So this is why you hurried 
 me away ! " 
 
 Mr. Proctor met his gaze quietly. " Be just, 
 Philip. I gave you your opportunity. I am 
 claiming mine." 
 
 " Then it s all over with me." Philip dropped 
 his bag, and his breath was almost a groan. " You 
 can t mean it, Robert ! You re not serious ! " 
 
 " I am very serious. I do you the justice to 
 think you the same. Now it rests with her to 
 choose." 
 
 Philip pressed his hands together. The steamer 
 was rocking against the pier. " To choose ! Pre 
 cious little choice about it when you re alone with 
 her all summer. And you hurried me away. It 
 was n t fair, Bob, it was n t fair ! And if I could 
 stay a week longer I think Promise not to say 
 anything to her this summer." 
 
202 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Now it is you who are not fair. It s a sorry 
 snarl, Philip, but let us stand up to it without 
 whining." 
 
 " I m not whining. I m asking for my rights. 
 It was n t square to try to pack me off this way 
 without giving me a hint. I can get a vacation in 
 October. Promise not to say anything till I come 
 back then. That will give us both a fair field. 
 Promise me that, Bob ! " 
 
 " I can t, Philip." Mr. Proctor s face was gray. 
 " That is a promise no man has a right to exact." 
 
 " But I ask you for it." 
 
 " You won t when you re cooler, my boy. 
 There, you must go. If it were anything else in 
 the whole world But I can t. Good-by." 
 
 A moment later Philip appeared at the stern 
 of the boat. A wake of churning water foamed 
 between his cousin and himself, but he called 
 across it. 
 
 " I do ask for your promise, Kobert. Remem 
 ber that you sent me away." 
 
 Mr. Proctor shook his head, but his step lagged. 
 The struggle had cost him dear. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE PROMISE 
 
 THE next morning gave hope of rain ; cloud- 
 streamers banded the sky, and the horizon line 
 showed gray-white and threatening. It had been 
 pitilessly clear for weeks, and now, from mill to 
 lighthouse, courage rose with the sinking mercury. 
 A rain might yet save the crops. 
 
 Mr. Proctor spent the day in his office, but 
 though his papers claimed him, his glance haunted 
 the barometer. The air was breathlessly still, and 
 clouds were gathering. A drought was the frequent 
 forerunner of a tempest. He knew the potentiali 
 ties of the lake in a storm and he knew that he 
 had sent Philip away. 
 
 Late in the afternoon Dr. Edmister came to 
 the office. " Where have you been of late ? " he 
 chided. " It s to your undoing, wherever it is. 
 You re looking wretchedly. What are you taking 
 to heart your mill, or the weather ? " 
 
 " The weather. You suggested, you remember, 
 that my emotions hung on the barometer." 
 
 The doctor attempted to look grave, and failed. 
 " Don t scoff at the barometer. It rules emotion 
 more than young heads like yours admit. Well, 
 we re going to have rain at last." 
 
204 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Proctor s anxious look returned. " I m afraid 
 this is n t rain. I hope that you can be at home 
 to-night, for it acts like wind. It s going to be a 
 tempest, or the mercury s a liar." 
 
 The mercury proved true. The wind came at 
 sunset out of a sable sky. A white furrow cut 
 the oily stillness of the lake, and with a sibilant 
 scream the storm leaped to the land. Mr. Proctor 
 watched it from the window, and his face was grim. 
 That the house he stood in crouched shivering in 
 the gale, did not concern him. 
 
 He watched the storm for hours. It was battle 
 royal that the wind had with earth, and the chances 
 seemed in favor of the gale. The lightning, lacing 
 the low scudding clouds, showed the lake black and 
 struggling. Philip was somewhere in that chaos, 
 and he, his guardian, had sent him. 
 
 He walked the floor, and strove for reason. 
 This thought that jumped at his throat, this sense 
 of accountability for Philip, might be morbid, but 
 it would not away. It was useless to tell himself 
 that he had done what seemed duty, that no man 
 could be, or should wish to be, his brother s keeper ; 
 all excuses read as sophistry in the face of two 
 statements. He had pushed Philip into this dan 
 ger. He had done it because Philip blocked his 
 way. The man put it to himself thus badly, though 
 conscious, even as he did so, that it was but half 
 the truth. The truth was deeper, tenderer, harder 
 to find. Faced with his own soul, Mr. Proctor 
 knew that he had tried, gropingly, but with mouth 
 set hard, to hold himself to what seemed best for 
 all of them. But Philip could not know this. 
 
THE PROMISE 205 
 
 It was not a night for sleep. The rain was 
 shredded into mist by the wind, and the air was 
 sulphurous and dust-laden ; the sob of the lake 
 could be heard above the storm. It was possible 
 that the Buffalo steamer had found port, but the 
 possibility looked more remote with every hour. 
 
 " I do ask for your promise, Kobert. Remem 
 ber that you sent me away." The words echoed. 
 What had then sounded like ruthless egotism, 
 seemed now a legitimate appeal. Mr. Proctor 
 lived his life again, and reviewed his obligations. 
 Where, he asked himself at last, should Philip turn 
 for support, if not to the man who had stood to him 
 for brother ? 
 
 But it was not his struggle with the balance- 
 sheet of his conscience that made Mr. Proctor most 
 wakeful ; it was the thought of Philip s danger. 
 The elemental temptation assailed the man to bar 
 gain with Fate ; to say, " Spare Philip, and I will 
 give my own happiness as ransom." Yet even as 
 the thought came, he put it by. His was not a God 
 of barter. 
 
 The night and the next day passed. Then word 
 came. " The steamer Undine of the Buffalo line 
 lay at Cedar Harbor during the storm." 
 
 Mr. Proctor read the message, and walked to 
 the door. It was a dreary world. The air was sul 
 try, and wreckage littered the sand. But the very 
 austerity of life supplied the iron for the man s 
 resolve. He would make the promise now, freely, 
 and under no compulsion. The trust that Philip 
 had tried to thrust upon him, he would accept. He 
 
206 THE LEGATEE 
 
 would step aside, and hold an even step till Philip 
 could return. 
 
 And with this promise in his heart, he was free 
 to go once more to the house upon the bluff. He 
 had withdrawn thought and glance from there for 
 a day, and he starved for a word. 
 
 As he climbed the trail, he heard Chevalier s 
 plaintive staccato. His step hastened. Whatever 
 his promise, he could at least see Katherine. But 
 Katherine was not in sight, and a bend in the trail 
 showed Chevalier scratching at the foot of a large 
 pine. 
 
 " Hold him, old fellow ! " Mr. Proctor pushed 
 by the dog, and peered upward. The game was 
 easily found ; it was curled in a blue ball on a 
 stout branch, and its eyes were wrathful. 
 
 Mr. Proctor recoiled, as if he were the detected 
 one. " Are you hurt ? " he called sharply. 
 
 " Not seriously," came the response, after a 
 pause. " I should n t be ten feet above the ground 
 if I were permanently disabled." The voice matched 
 the eyes. 
 
 The man forgot everything but his joy in the 
 tone ; this was the happy, brier-set Katherine of 
 an earlier day. 
 
 "I ll wait for you here." He selected a log 
 with some ostentation. " When you re tired of 
 playing dryad, I 11 help you down." 
 
 "Will you?" A small laugh answered him. 
 " Turn your back for a minute, and you 11 see." 
 
 There was a stir in the pine needles, and the 
 girl stood before him. Her cheeks were pink, and 
 
THE PROMISE 207 
 
 her eyes embarrassed, but there was welcome in 
 her face, welcome that hastened the man in con 
 fusion to declare his message. 
 
 " I ve good news for you, Miss Katherine. The 
 Undine is safe. I ve just heard." 
 
 " That is good news. I ve been anxious." And 
 that, with the breath of a sigh, was all. The day 
 had passed when Katherine s mind was his for the 
 reading. 
 
 " Mr. Proctor," she said, as they walked on, " you 
 said that you would talk with me sometime. Is 
 to-day sometime ? " 
 
 " All days are sometime if you will talk with 
 me." 
 
 Katherine stopped. Her hair, cut during her 
 illness, framed the eager face that she lifted to him 
 in scrolls of reddish gold. " Have you time ? How 
 much of that speech is of the world, and how much 
 is of Wilsonport ? I did n t mean to say that. For 
 you 11 think that I don t appreciate your interest 
 in anything that concerns father. And I do. In 
 deed I do. Shall we take this path ? If we go to 
 the house now, we 11 meet the men." 
 
 "What men?" 
 
 " I heard Louis Detiere coming with some of his 
 men, and " 
 
 " And you climbed the tree. Miss Katherine, 
 you must n t come down here alone ! " 
 
 Katherine s chin lifted. "You don t under 
 stand. That s part of what I want to tell you. 
 I was n t afraid of the men, but it was pleasanter 
 not to be seen." 
 
208 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " But Chevalier ! If the men had been a minute 
 later he would have called them to the tree. Don t 
 do it again ! And don t come down the trail alone ! 
 Promise me that." 
 
 " May I eat and sleep ? The trail s as necessary 
 to me. Chevalier was there all the time. He lay 
 like a stone till the men passed." 
 
 "But I heard him barking before I reached 
 you." 
 
 Sudden contempt threaded the girl s speech with 
 laughter. " He saw you first else he would n t 
 have barked. Chevalier has never been properly 
 acclimated in Wilsonport. He does make dis 
 tinctions." 
 
 There was flattery in the pause before the last 
 word, and a flying dimple led the way to forgetful- 
 ness, but Mr. Proctor kept his eyes down. His 
 thought was sombre. What had looked like the 
 path of duty, arid but well marked and clear to 
 follow, now showed tortuous windings. Every 
 word told him that his tongue was not his servant 
 when he was with Katherine. And if he took this 
 comradeship that she was proffering, could he hold 
 his share of it within the bounds of his control ? 
 The debatable land where friendship joins love has 
 not been mapped. He had promised not to cross 
 the line. He would not cheat himself with phrases. 
 Yet if he could help her 
 
 Katherine stopped at a flower-fringed log. " Let 
 us sit down," she said more soberly. If she felt 
 rebuff in his manner, she hid her discomfiture in 
 dignity that became her well. " And now to go 
 
THE PROMISE 209 
 
 back to last winter. You knew then that some 
 thing was wrong." 
 
 " But about Detiere first ! This farce of his 
 needing a doctor has gone far enough." 
 
 "It s a farce, but a kindly one." Katherine 
 crossed her hands to hold them steady, and her 
 face lost its glow. " Now to begin at the begin 
 ning " 
 
 " I know the beginning. It s about Dr. Griggs. 
 I can spare you that." 
 
 Katherine rested her chin in her hand, and 
 looked at him gravely. " Why try to spare me ? 
 Our evasions can t alter the fact. No, I d rather 
 put the situation in words, even though I know 
 that you must understand part of it already. The 
 people have deserted father for Dr. Griggs. The 
 feeling began before the mill closed last year, and 
 grew through the winter. We ve lived alone for 
 months." 
 
 " It s unbelievable. I " 
 
 Her hand checked him. "The worst is over, 
 and never mind. But that s what brings Mr. 
 Detiere. He not only comes himself ; he brings 
 his men. They re all uncompromisingly well, and 
 father frowns and sends them away. It s absurd, 
 but it s an effort at loyalty. Do you wonder that 
 I called it a kindly farce? " 
 
 It was the man who hunted for words. Her 
 composure hurt him. What had not this vivid 
 girl endured that the months should have taught 
 her tongue control ! 
 
 " In January," she went on, " I was bewildered, 
 
210 THE LEGATEE 
 
 unhappy. I did n t know what it all meant. I had 
 thought that the people loved my father. I had 
 been proud of their love for him. It it choked 
 me sometimes just to think that I was his daughter. 
 And they do love him. They do. I can see how 
 it all happened. I ve had a great deal of time to 
 think. For one thing, father kept me away from 
 the village on on just a little different plane, 
 and the people resented it. They did n t feel that 
 he was one of them but he was. Indeed he was. 
 He did it all for me. If I could only have under 
 stood this earlier. And so when Dr. Griggs came 
 and lived among them, and had temperance meet 
 ings, they well, that s the story." 
 
 " That s not all the story. The story is the in 
 gratitude of the matter the injustice. Your 
 father had been as watchful, as tender, as Provi 
 dence itself." 
 
 The girl looked troubled. " I wish that you 
 would n t think of it in that way. I don t not 
 now. I I don t know how to say this." Her 
 voice halted with sudden timidity. " But have we 
 any right to act as Providence for others ? Think 
 of the mischief that I ve made ! Not about your 
 mill alone Oh, please don t speak of that ! 
 but about Adrien. I was sure that I knew best as 
 to what he should do, and I ve made such a tangle 
 for everybody. Not that father would do anything 
 like that, and father does know what is best, but 
 he couldn t help trying to hold the people to 
 standards that they did n t understand. I hope 
 that this doesn t sound as if I were criticising 
 
THE PROMISE 211 
 
 father. But I m able to see now that I must n t 
 call the people ungrateful. Father does n t." 
 " You ve talked with your father about it ? " 
 " Only once. I wanted him to go away. Can 
 you talk to him about it, Mr. Proctor ? You can 
 influence him. That is why I am telling you the 
 whole story." 
 
 " He does n t wish to go ? " 
 "He was ready to go last winter, but now 
 He s never talked with me but once, but he told 
 me I hope that he would n t mind my telling 
 you this he told me that he was not willing to 
 leave the people with only Dr. Griggs for a phy 
 sician. He has found that Dr. Griggs is not 
 competent. He You know, Mr. Proctor, that 
 he would n t say that to any one but me ? " 
 "I know." 
 
 " And now I am telling you. But I know that 
 you care for father." 
 
 " Yes, I care for your father." 
 " And he must go away ; he must go. I can t 
 say anything more. If I try, he laughs and talks 
 of the economic conditions in Corea. But he must 
 go away. He is not well. Will you talk to him 
 about it ? " 
 
 Mr. Proctor pulled the bark from the log beside 
 him, and a straggling line of ants skurried over 
 his marauding fingers. 
 
 " There ! " he said. " That comes of interfer 
 ence. It s just what you were saying. Why 
 could n t I have spared their roof ! " 
 " You d rather not speak to father ? " 
 
212 THE LEGATEE 
 
 He looked down into her eyes. She held them 
 wide for him for a fleeting second. 
 
 "Dare I take the responsibility?" he asked 
 very slowly. " I don t know. I m not as ready 
 to answer such a question as I would have been a 
 year ago. It was you who taught me to pause 
 who changed my standpoint." 
 
 The girl did not seem to hear his last words. 
 Her face looked pinched. 
 
 " I am worried about father," she said almost 
 mechanically. " And you won t help me ? " 
 
 He stretched out a hand. " Is that fair ? Do 
 you think it s easy for me to sit here and refuse ? 
 But I have learned. There would come a day 
 when you would not respect me if I urged your 
 father to leave now. He can t desert, and leave 
 the people in Dr. Griggs s hands. It is you who 
 taught me to understand that." 
 
 She rose and stood before him with her hands 
 pressed together. "Men are so strong, so sure 
 that they are right ! For even father does n t care 
 if it hurts me. You pick out a goal, then ride 
 roughshod. I I don t care for the people," 
 her careful tones broke, "I am worried about 
 father." She walked away; then came swiftly 
 back. " I m wrong," she said, with a catch in her 
 voice that hung between sobs and laughter. " I m 
 wrong, and you re right. But let s change the 
 subject." 
 
 " Not before you let me say " 
 
 " Please please ! " she interrupted. She sat 
 beside him again, and ventured the tip of a finger 
 
THE PROMISE 213 
 
 on his outstretched hand. " Please, not a word ! 
 For you re right. And I must learn to be worthy 
 of father. You re working very hard. Your face 
 shows it. Perhaps it s this weather. Will the 
 work be easier in time ? " 
 
 " What what makes me look tired may grow 
 easier in time. When is Adrien coming home ? 
 I m thinking of taking him into the office this 
 summer. He will need work, and his brains 
 should serve me better than his fingers. Is he 
 happier than he was at first ? " 
 
 " I don t know. I don t hear from Adrien." 
 
 " I will ask his father about him." Mr. Proc 
 tor looked away at the treetops, and hunted for 
 another conversational bridge to safe territory ; 
 his pulse was beating hard from the last struggle. 
 Then an intimation of what Katherine s words 
 might mean came over him, and prudence yielded 
 the right of way. " Miss Katherine, has anything 
 happened anything unpleasant ? You say that 
 Adrien does n t write. Have Ferdinante and Liv 
 ingstone been meddling ? If they have " 
 
 "But they haven t." A sunbeam dropped 
 through the leaves to show the girl s eyes wet, 
 though her mouth was smiling. " You can lower 
 your lance. There s no battle for you there, Sir 
 Knight." 
 
 The man would not smile. " I am permitted to 
 fight only your father s battles ? " 
 
 "But the battle is over. I would like to ex 
 plain. You remember that Ferdinante would n t 
 speak to me ? She came to me in the winter after 
 
214 THE LEGATEE 
 
 you went away. It was nearly dark, a cold, snowy 
 night, and she stood outside my window. You can 
 hardly imagine how lonely these woods can look in 
 a winter twilight. She had been crying ; Adrien 
 had not written. And she talked to me. She had 
 never done that before, and she taught me a great 
 many things. I had been very selfish ; I had taken 
 everything that came to me as a matter of course, 
 and never thought whom I might be robbing. She 
 felt that I had made Adrien discontented, and that 
 I had even taken Karen s friendship from her. 
 She did not understand about Karen. But she 
 has had very little from life, and it seemed to her 
 that I had had everything. So I told her, at last, 
 that I wouldn t write to Adrien any more." 
 
 " But there are two sides. Don t you owe 
 Adrien consideration ? " 
 
 She looked grave. " I tried to think that out. 
 But in the end the matter seemed to rest between 
 Ferdinante and me. I could n t do anything else. 
 Ferdinante has been lonely all her life. I ve 
 learned this winter what it means to be lonely." 
 
 "And you have been alone all these winter 
 months ! Why did I take you at your word in 
 January ! I should have stayed in spite of you. 
 Even one friend and you let me call myself that 
 would have helped." 
 
 " No, no ! It would have been madness for you 
 to come back." Her tone gave combat, even 
 though the possibility was past. " It would have 
 put you in the wrong with your men if you had 
 tried to fight our battles. Then you have work to 
 
THE PROMISE 215 
 
 do out in the world. All this will pass. And 
 I m not lonely now." 
 
 He looked at her. No, she was not lonely. 
 Her eyes were merry and wholly fearless. And 
 as he searched her yet again, he saw that this was 
 not the girl whose tears had haunted him since 
 January. There had been a moment then when 
 his hand might have helped her ; now she held 
 her footing bravely. The gentle philosophy of 
 the father had become courage in the daughter. 
 
 He left her at her father s gate, with the convic 
 tion that the moment that might have been his he 
 had let slip by ; but even as he turned, her voice 
 stopped him. 
 
 " Mr. Proctor," the name wavered, "I was 
 unjust to you long ago. Have you forgiven it? 
 I ve often " 
 
 She was at his side, and his breath came hard. 
 He had said good-by to a serene-eyed woman; 
 here stood the impetuous child of his memory. 
 What alchemy wrought this ? 
 
 " But the men don t understand you yet," she 
 dashed on. " They think " a frown of embar 
 rassment corrected her blush " they think as 
 I did. I know now that I was wrong. It s a 
 strange summer. No one can tell what it may 
 bring. Have you forgiven me ? " 
 
 Her face, wistful, challenging, looked to him for 
 answer ; its very trustfulness robbed him yet 
 again of words. He took her hand, and raised it 
 to his lips. " To thank you," he gravely said ; his 
 air made the observance dignified and fitting. 
 
216 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " You were not wrong. I was Yes, let me 
 say it ! Well, never mind. It is a strange sum 
 mer. Whatever it brings, you Ve I hope that 
 it may bring you happiness, Miss Katherine." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 
 
 KATHERINE S remark that it was a strange sum 
 mer was the echo of what was on every tongue. 
 For July, that only the year before had dowered 
 the passing summer with a coronal of beauty, 
 came now with heat that baked the ground. The 
 showers that fell occasionally, to save the earth 
 from madness, were too brief to make impression 
 on the highways, and dust hung like smoke above 
 the forest. Near the settlements the earth was 
 tinder, and even the morasses of the tamarack 
 swamps showed spots of powdered soil. 
 
 Life drooped under the heat. The sun brought 
 no healthful languor in its shining ; it carried fever 
 and unrest. Mr. Proctor, forcing his way dog 
 gedly through the barrier of days that separated 
 nim from October and Philip s return, felt, as he 
 watched his men, that this was not the time for 
 him to try to reach them by speech or deed. If 
 he could ignore their sullen impertinences a few 
 weeks longer, the weather must change. Then he 
 could act. Now his own brain felt sluggish, inert. 
 How must his men feel who lifted logs eleven 
 hours a day ? 
 
 For himself the hours were monotonously toil- 
 
218 THE LEGATEE 
 
 some. He went little to the house on the bluff, 
 for he hated his half measures with Katherine. 
 He could not be friend, and he must not be lover ; 
 the compromise that had served him at their last 
 meeting seemed mean in his own eyes. 
 
 But the doctor came to him. After one sugges 
 tion that Mr. Proctor s visits were welcome at all 
 times, Dr. Edmister accepted the situation in 
 silence that showed that he was drawing deduc 
 tions of his own. Yet never had he seemed to 
 find Mr. Proctor s friendship more essential. 
 
 " Have you seen Adrien Lauzeone since his 
 return ? " he asked one day. 
 
 Mr. Proctor laughed. "Yes." 
 
 The doctor looked annoyed. " It s hardly a 
 laughing matter, Proctor. The boy s a travesty. 
 He s talking communism in the same breath with 
 aristocracy of intellect. His self-love must have 
 been cruelly torn at Madison to send him on this 
 tangent. He s adopted the oldest clothes yes, 
 and the oldest manners. His vocabulary with the 
 men is fairly primeval." 
 
 " I should explain my laugh ; it was more at 
 myself than at Adrien. I offered to take him into 
 the office, and he gave me a comprehensive state 
 ment of what he thought of any one who would 
 enter my service." 
 
 " What does it all mean, Proctor ? " 
 
 Proctor hesitated. " He gave a variety of rea 
 sons, economic and feminine." 
 
 Dr. Edmister frowned, then smiled as suddenly. 
 " I heard something of that the other day. I 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 219 
 
 should have been as well pleased if you had n t 
 stumbled on it." 
 
 " I did n t stumble. I stood and took it as 
 a broadside. I wonder just what you heard, if you 
 are willing to tell me." 
 
 The doctor cleared his throat as if he disliked 
 his task. " Oh, I heard what I suppose you call 
 the feminine side. It was Yngve who was spokes 
 man, the men were in front of the store, but 
 Adrien prompted. He said supply your own 
 details, Proctor that your attentions to Karen 
 Torstenson had been somewhat pronounced ; that 
 you dropped " 
 
 " The cub ! To drag the girl in ! " Mr. Proc 
 tor s eyes met the doctor s. The smile that grew 
 between the men was grave, but full of confidence 
 and understanding. " I suppose that I did make 
 a mistake. I admired Miss Karen, and I did n t 
 understand village conventions. It s somewhat 
 absurd, though, that Yngve did n t take the other 
 side, and show me as a blighted being. This view 
 may flatter my vanity, but it perplexes me re 
 membering the facts of the case." 
 
 "The facts of the case never concern Yngve. 
 But this idea is too complex to be his ; it must be 
 Adrien s. It s interesting to see" the doctor 
 gave himself over to philosophical enjoyment 
 " how that superstition persists, the inherent 
 wickedness of the men of the town; the primal 
 integrity of the men of the country. It s an arti 
 cle of faith. Adrien played a strong card, even if 
 he had no facts." 
 
220 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " It moved the men ? " 
 
 "Apparently. I hope this story won t reach 
 Karen. Livingstone is growing too much of a 
 mystic to be a very practical protection." 
 
 " Livingstone seems to intend to stay here this 
 summer." 
 
 " Yes. I found him praying in the woods the 
 other day. I did n t like his eyes. It will be 
 visions next. He d better go back to organizing 
 reform clubs. I wish that Livingstone were not 
 just what he is. A little broader outlook, and he 
 could accomplish the good that I m convinced he 
 has at heart. It is a fair far country of piety and 
 brotherhood that he has in mind. But he has lost 
 his way. No matter if he has made mischief; 
 his goal is to him a high conception." 
 
 " With Dr. Griggs as the flower of his concep 
 tion," Mr. Proctor said testily. "My men are 
 taking to letter-writing again, doctor. I found 
 this notice on my door yesterday." 
 
 Dr. Edmister took the soiled paper gingerly. 
 " It s all so childish and yet so tragic ! " His 
 voice had a tired fall that was new. " It s nearly 
 a year since Heinrich brought you the other paper, 
 is n t it ? At this rate they re not of much im 
 portance." 
 
 "Their importance lies just in that. If they 
 were not so scattering I could take action. Well, 
 is it too warm for chess ? I m in the humor for a 
 game." 
 
 And this was as close to vital matters as their 
 talk ever came. There was confidence between 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 221 
 
 them, but not expression. It was not alone that 
 much that was in their minds was hard to bring to 
 speech ; there was another feeling a sense of ten 
 sion that Katherine had voiced when she said that 
 no one could tell what the summer might bring. 
 The impending weighed on tongue as well as 
 spirit. 
 
 It was but little after daybreak the next morn 
 ing when Mr. Proctor started for the lighthouse 
 trail. He was going for the plunge which helped 
 him through the day, when, at a bend of the path, 
 he caught the gleam of a paper nailed to a hem 
 lock. He walked over and tore it down with em 
 phasis. It was more scurrilous than its predeces 
 sors, and for a moment his anger shook his poise. 
 The position of the notice displayed a knowledge 
 of his movements that was in itself an affront, for 
 he told no one of his morning walk, and took it 
 at an hour when the birds were scarce astir. He 
 reread the blurred and ill-spelled lines, and his 
 anger grew. The thought came that the wording 
 was forced ; that the errors were such as would 
 suggest themselves by euphony to one trying to 
 write incorrectly. If this were so, the writer was 
 not far to find. His foot pressed the ground hard 
 at the suggestion. 
 
 In his absorption he was slow in realizing that 
 the ground under his right foot was curiously re- 
 sistent. When he did, he stooped to investigate. 
 He was standing on an iron belaying-pin of unusual 
 size, and as he picked it up, fresh indignation col 
 ored his face. The pin was a relic of Heinrich s 
 
222 THE LEGATEE 
 
 sailor days, and belonged, as every child in the vil 
 lage knew, in the lightkeeper s mackinaw. It lay 
 at the foot of the tree, as if it had been used in 
 tacking the notice, and had been dropped and for 
 gotten, but its position was ostentatiously careless. 
 It courted inquiry, and was so palpably a ruse that 
 Mr. Proctor wondered if after all these placards 
 might be the work of childish hands. But the 
 warning had been posted far above a child s grasp, 
 and the venom of its wording was unmistakably 
 mature. 
 
 He tore the paper, and sowed it on the lake, but 
 the belaying-pin he replaced. At last he had, if 
 not a clue, an opportunity to work toward one. 
 
 He left his house that evening as soon as he had 
 finished supper, and sauntered through the village. 
 He made an errand at the post office, and stopped 
 to chat with Cole, whom he found standing in 
 front. Ole Torstenson was smoking on the steps 
 of the store, and, joining him, he questioned about 
 the last order of supplies for the boarding-house ; 
 then he walked slowly to the other end of the vil 
 lage, and climbed the hill leading to the doctor s. 
 All the village was astir in the long twilight, and 
 he had been seen by fifty or more people. He 
 stopped a few rods short of the end of the trail, 
 and seating himself, waited for darkness. His 
 destination was the lighthouse, but should he be 
 seen his plan would go for naught. 
 
 No path followed the shore line back of the vil 
 lage, and Mr. Proctor climbed over brush and 
 fallen timber till the half circle of the settlement 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 223 
 
 was passed, and he could venture into the open. 
 The lighthouse trail, at the other horn of the cres 
 cent, he took boldly. He asked nothing better 
 than to meet some one there, for Heinrich had no 
 evening visitors, and a straggler upon that lonely 
 way could have but one errand. But he reached 
 the lighthouse, hearing nothing but his own foot 
 steps and the hushed breathing of wild things that 
 crept from his presence as he passed. 
 
 Heinrich met him with amazement and pleasure, 
 but Bertha accepted his coming, as she accepted 
 all good things, as hers by right, and did not 
 trouble her enjoyment with question of his rea 
 sons. The room, exquisite in its cleanliness, 
 looked radiant of home. Heinrich was mending 
 a sail, Bertha knitting ; and their faces showed 
 peace that the tumultuous village did not share. 
 The Bible, which was never far from Bertha s side, 
 lay open on the kitchen table. The lame girl had 
 yet to learn the meaning of loneliness. 
 
 Mr. Proctor seated himself with a sigh ; he en 
 joyed the luxury of admitting that he was tired. 
 
 " I came for you to play for me," he said, and 
 as Heinrich s violin whispered through the silence, 
 the day s perplexities seemed of fading moment. 
 The hour in the dim room was a gracious inter 
 lude. 
 
 The moon was low and the path black in shadow 
 as he walked homeward ; so black that it was un 
 necessary to conceal himself when he reached the 
 hemlock tree. He found a log that offered dubi 
 ous resting-place, and prepared to wait. If he 
 
224 THE LEGATEE 
 
 knew aught of human nature, the belay ing-pin 
 would bring at least one visitor before the night 
 was over. He had thought that his ostentatious 
 climb to the doctor s bluff would bring the visit 
 early in the evening, but the hours passed, and 
 with his thoughts for company, he watched the 
 moon swing above the treetops. 
 
 It was difficult not to be introspective, alone 
 with the night and the shadows, and after a losing 
 struggle he abandoned himself to thoughts that 
 during waking hours he fought away by labor. 
 The procession of his days in Wilsonport walked 
 before him, each with its memory. He had not 
 stopped before to study the pattern of his life, and 
 now he looked at its varying threads with care to 
 weigh their values. He counted the year s gains 
 and losses ; its petty annoyances ; its trivialities 
 that were tragedies ; yes, and its rewards em 
 phatically, its rewards. 
 
 And if, as he suspected, he were soon to meet 
 Adrien, how should he deal with him ? His pity 
 for the lad had an undercurrent which Dr. Edmis- 
 ter had failed to understand. For with Adrien, 
 the feminine side of Mr. Proctor s misdeeds had 
 not concerned Karen alone. The wall which the 
 lad had found between Katherine and himself was, 
 he said without scruple, of Mr. Proctor s building. 
 Here was cause for enmity which might lead to 
 open action. Was Adrien to prove the burning- 
 glass that should focus the prevailing discontent ? 
 But why should Adrien try to implicate Heinrich ? 
 Question for question ! 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 225 
 
 And for Dr. Edmister what ? The thought 
 was a knife for Mr. Proctor. Whatever crash 
 was coming, he himself was prepared, but for the 
 doctor this man of indomitable quiet faith in 
 human goodness the way looked black. 
 
 And Katherine He turned with sudden 
 passion and gripped the log. The consciousness 
 of this girl was always the background of his 
 hours, but at this moment he could not hold her 
 to the gray neutrality of his half thought. His 
 fancy rioted, for a space, with a picture of what 
 life would mean with her beside him, her love 
 ready to meet his need through the long days. 
 But even this vision had its sting. He had been 
 sure of late that it would never be more than a 
 vision. Since that last day when his talk with 
 her had been largely blanks and dashes, he had 
 had intuitive knowledge that each hour was push 
 ing him further from her possible regard. How 
 could she care for him? She had seen, first, a 
 half-cynical critic who played and patronized, then 
 a hard-working elderly man who talked in enig 
 mas. He set his teeth at these pictures of him 
 self ; yet he felt them to be true. 
 
 And then came pictures of Katherine to tanta 
 lize him random memories that pricked, yet drew 
 him on. It was a momentous feeling that could 
 so chain a man of his age, and he retraced its 
 growth in himself almost with awe. He recalled 
 the child who had piqued and amused him ; then 
 his fancy loitered with the Katherine of the Janu 
 ary holiday the half -awakened girl with her 
 
226 THE LEGATEE 
 
 moods of tears and laughter. The Katherine 
 whom he knew now was none of these, but a 
 woman, poised and sunny eyed. He had neglected 
 his opportunities when he had let the child and 
 girl slip by. 
 
 And what if Philip s interest in Katherine had 
 been, after all, of the moment regretted as his 
 life flowed back in the channels that it had known ? 
 The question was best not asked. It was a relief 
 that a faint sound from down the trail made him 
 drop all thought, to listen. 
 
 Soon the sound became definite ; steps were 
 approaching. One person, or two ? Two, it 
 seemed at first ; but the steps were cautious and 
 there were no voices. The footfalls grew more 
 distinct. Yes, there were two. This was unex 
 pected, but Mr. Proctor tingled with anticipation. 
 Let them come. He examined his muscles un 
 consciously; his fingers slipped away from them 
 as if he had grasped steel. 
 
 A hoot-owl stirred sleepily, raised a wondering 
 question of the night, and the steps halted. They 
 were at the turn of the trail ; but they waited 
 listening. There was a stout stick at Mr. Proctor s 
 side. The symmetrical tapering of its knobby 
 length recommended it to his critic s eye, and his 
 hand weighed it with appreciation. The moon 
 had found an opening in the trail s green canopy, 
 so that hemlock and path were lighted, while the 
 man waited in the shadow. 
 
 The steps came on again but imagination had 
 played tricks. There was but one person, after 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 227 
 
 all, and the figure that crept to the foot of the tree 
 and dug in the earth at its base looked so small 
 and unprotected that Mr. Proctor dropped his arm, 
 with a gesture that was almost disappointment. 
 
 He waited till the belaying-pin, which he knew 
 was the object of the search, was found, then 
 sprung upon the groping figure, pinioning its 
 arms. 
 
 " Well, Yngve," he said conversationally, 
 " you ve kept me waiting some time. I 11 take 
 this letter in person, if you please. So you Ve 
 been my correspondent. I ve done you an in 
 justice. I had n t thought you capable of so sus 
 tained an effort." 
 
 The boy writhed with imprecations, but he could 
 as well have beaten his strength against stone. 
 
 " Cultivate repose," the mocking voice went on. 
 " You 11 find it useful socially commend that 
 precept to your friend Adrien. Your manner at 
 this moment is too galvanic." 
 
 The boy flung the belaying-pin backwards at 
 his tormentor, but his arms were helpless, and the 
 missile fell harmless to the ground. 
 
 " You hound ! " the man dropped his mockery, 
 and his voice was a lash, "pick that up again! 
 That s a little token that you re to carry to Hem- 
 rich in person, and I 11 go with you to see that you 
 do it gracefully. Pick it up, I say ! " 
 
 He pushed the lad forward, and was bending 
 with him, keeping a grasp upon the slender arms, 
 when he heard a new sound behind him. His ear 
 registered the warning more quickly than his 
 
228 THE LEGATEE 
 
 brain, but instinct taught him to dodge, and the 
 blow that beat the sky to blood and the earth to 
 nothingness lost half its force. 
 
 He had watched a star for what seemed a long 
 time. He tried to look away, and sleep again, but 
 the star irritated with its persistent twinkle, and 
 he cried querulously for some one to pull down 
 the shades. His head ached, and he was cold ; 
 his bed, too, was hard, and as he tried to turn 
 upon it his groping hand struck iron. The cold 
 touch formed a link with memory. He kept his 
 grasp upon the metal, struggling for mind and 
 reason, and, little by little, he pieced fragmentary 
 consciousness from out the chaos of his pain. 
 
 He had been struck on the head from behind 
 memory came in flashes, interspersed with inter 
 vals when he was dragged through space in the 
 trail of a blazing star whose light seared his aching 
 eyes until he cried for mercy. He tried to move, 
 but a gush of warm blood upon his face left him 
 sick and trembling, and he fell back, to struggle 
 again with the mind that would not do his bidding. 
 
 How time passed he did not know, but the 
 moisture of the night was merciful, and his brain 
 cleared sufficiently to give him one thought that 
 lie could hold: he must go to Heinrich. The 
 going would involve calculation, and he tried to 
 think it out, but his mind would hold but the one 
 idea : he must go. He found his feet after some 
 stumbling, and clenched the belaying-pin, to think 
 which way to start. Yes, the trail led upward ; 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 229 
 
 he wiped the blood from his eyes, and turned to 
 ward the lighthouse. 
 
 In after time he lived fragments of that walk in 
 his dreams. Trees struck at him with blows that 
 made his wound bleed afresh ; serpents, guised as 
 vines, twined about his feet, and he fell shrinking 
 from their hisses. He must have left the path 
 many times, but instinct served where reason failed, 
 and at last his investigating fingers met the rough 
 wall of the lighthouse, and he gathered his 
 strength for a call. 
 
 And then came nothingness, broken, after a3ons 
 of time, by a stinging in his throat that brought 
 him back through space to puzzled study of a face 
 above him. It was Heinrich s face, he decided. 
 The whiskey that was being forced between his 
 lips brought consciousness with a rush, and he felt 
 of the couch beneath him, with an attempt at a 
 smile. Heinrich saw the smile, and his hand 
 shook. 
 
 "You re better, sir?" 
 
 " Apparently." Mr. Proctor prolonged the syl 
 lables as if to assure himself of the fact. The 
 alcohol was doing its work, and the situation 
 seemed clearer. He felt oddly cheerful. 
 
 Heinrich was sponging the blood away, and the 
 cold water supplied still further Mr. Proctor s 
 missing links of memory. 
 
 " Where did you find me ? " he questioned, 
 " and what time is it ? " 
 
 " It s near daylight, sir. Can I leave you with 
 Bertha, do you think, and go for the doctor ? " 
 
230 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Mr. Proctor made a futile effort to examine his 
 head. " Pretty well scalped, am I ? " Heinrich s 
 face answered him, and he debated the matter. 
 " If you go for the doctor now, all the village will 
 know. You ought to be something of a surgeon, 
 Heinrich. Can t you wash this cut, and tie it up ? 
 The doctor can sew me together later." 
 
 " But it will hurt, sir." 
 
 " That means that you know how to do it. 
 Then the quicker, the better. Don t go for the 
 doctor until I ask it, and never mind the pain." 
 
 But the pain was in no mind to be ignored, and 
 when Mr. Proctor was bandaged and at rest, he 
 had the wrathful consciousness that more lapses 
 of memory were to be accounted for. 
 
 " Fainted, did I ? H m ! Don t, Heinrich ! " 
 Mr. Proctor s own voice was somewhat uncertain. 
 "I mall right." 
 
 "But who did it?" 
 
 " It was this way," and Mr. Proctor reviewed the 
 story haltingly. " It would n t have happened," 
 he concluded, " if I d had ordinary common sense. 
 When Yngve came in sight alone, I did n t stop 
 to remember that rogues hunt in couples." 
 
 " But to hit you this way, sir ! Who do you 
 think it was ? " 
 
 " I don t know. Of course I ve suspicions. I 
 don t think the attack was deliberate. The boy 
 probably lost his head with fright. That is, if it 
 was a boy." 
 
 " But why " 
 
 " They had tried to make me think that you 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 231 
 
 were putting up these papers, Heinrich. They 
 dropped your belaying-pin where I would see it. 
 They knew it would go hard with them if I caught 
 them." 
 
 Heinrich looked curiously impassive. The at 
 tempt on his honor moved him less than the sight 
 of the cut on Mr. Proctor s head. 
 
 " Yngve does n t like me," he said. " He took 
 the pin but some one else told him. Yngve 
 talks a lot, but he would not hit you. He is afraid 
 except to talk." 
 
 Mr. Proctor tried to nod his bandaged crown, 
 and failed. " But why should they wish to injure 
 you with me ? " 
 
 Heinrich did not answer at once. His grave 
 eyes studied the young man with almost fatherly 
 understanding. 
 
 "I am a friend to Dr. Edrnister," he said at 
 length. 
 
 Proctor closed his eyes wearily. " I see." 
 
 " There is more, sir," Heinrich went on, " about 
 Yngve. It is since I knocked him down at the 
 feed loft. The men laughed at him, because I 
 was old, and could knock him down." 
 
 A numbing longing for sleep contended with 
 Mr. Proctor s interest. " This must n t be known, 
 if we can cover it," he said, with effort to make the 
 world of consequence once more. " But I can t go 
 home that s plain. Heinrich, I 11 have to ask 
 you to go to the village. You can tell Jessie that 
 I stayed at the lighthouse all night. If she asks 
 questions, say that I talked of using your boat to 
 
232 THE LEGATEE 
 
 go out fishing that s a small enough lie to be 
 moral and tell Cole the same. I don t think that 
 he 11 believe it, but it may stop some talking. Yes, 
 and tell Cole to come up here this afternoon, at 
 three o clock, say." 
 
 Heinrich hesitated. " The doctor ? " 
 
 " Don t go for the doctor till later. Ask him to 
 keep his medicine case out of sight when he comes 
 through the village. He 11 understand that I ve 
 a good reason for all this secrecy. I hope that 
 Yngve and his choleric friend will hold their 
 tongues. And now I m going to sleep." 
 
 But he was not to sleep until Heinrich had 
 prepared bed and breakfast nor until a question 
 had been asked. 
 
 " Heinrich, the man looked away as he spoke, 
 " 1 know that I was pretty well shaken up even 
 after you found me. I ve an impression that I 
 did some talking. Can you tell me what I said ? 
 Did I mention names ? call any one ? " 
 
 The sailor grew more ruddy than the wind had 
 painted him, and looked reserved. 
 
 " Go on," Mr. Proctor pressed. " I would rather 
 have the truth." 
 
 Heinrich swallowed hard. " You called Kath- 
 erine Edmister. You thought that " 
 
 " I thought that she was hurting me," Mr. Proc 
 tor quietly supplied. " I remember a little about 
 it." He turned his head painfully, and looked out 
 at the summer dawn. " That s all there is to it, 
 Heinrich the wanderings of a sick man. You 11 
 forget it, if I ask it, I know." 
 
ON THE LIGHTHOUSE TRAIL 233 
 
 " Yes, sir," Heinrich said obediently. He walked 
 as far as the door, then turned to look at the figure 
 on the bed ; its look of weary laxity deepened his 
 eyes to sudden resolve. " Mr. Proctor," he walked 
 back to the bed, and his voice was hushed, " if 
 that s true what you talked about why, God 
 bless you, sir, and good luck ! She s a little thing, 
 but so loving ! Bertha can tell you. You ve both 
 of you been good to Bertha, and you don t mind 
 God bless you ! " 
 
 The head upon the pillow turned to hide its tell 
 tale eyes. " But it is n t true, Heinrich, and you 
 are to forget. But thank you. Kemember, it 
 is n t true, but Take care of her, Heinrich, if 
 anything happens to her father and me." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 MR. PROCTOR SPEAKS 
 
 DR. EDMISTER S mind, as he examined Mr. 
 Proctor, hung between irritation with his patient, 
 and admiration of Heinrich s skill. 
 
 " Why did n t you call me at once ? " he grum 
 bled, to hide the strain upon his throat. His for 
 titude was tried. If the blow had been a little more 
 to the side, his friend at this moment would have 
 been what or where ? The question hurt him. 
 He was growing old, and friends were dear. He 
 looked at this one with a sudden yearning to tell 
 him so. 
 
 Proctor smiled. " I suppose that Heinrich has 
 told you the story ? " 
 
 " I ve pieced together most of it," the doctor 
 said absently, his mind concerned with the necessi 
 ties before him. " Go home for a time, Proctor, 
 and rest. Get out of this atmosphere." 
 
 The young man s lips closed suggestively. " Not 
 for fifty atmospheres." 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 The wound was dressed, and the doctor ready to 
 leave, before the subject came up again. 
 
 " You say that you won t go home, Proctor ? " 
 Dr. Edmister looked at his patient with an af- 
 
MR. PROCTOR SPEAKS 235 
 
 fection which he did not try to hide. " Then, if 
 you re determined to fight it out, I ve one thing to 
 say. Forgive me if I go back. I asked you once to 
 wait. I now withdraw that request. One moment 
 do not answer I ask no confidences. But we 
 are fallen on evil days, and I wish to leave your 
 hands free. If your feeling was an impulse that you 
 have since outgrown, do not regret my speaking, 
 for we shall be where we were before yet nearer." 
 
 "The roads are still dusty," Mr. Proctor s 
 smile was wan, " so my impulse has not changed. 
 I dare to believe that it never will. But I can t 
 talk of it this morning, doctor. I my hands are 
 tied." 
 
 " Oh, as to that " the doctor interrupted. 
 " "Well, I must go. No getting up till supper 
 time, remember, if you insist on going home to 
 night." 
 
 " Just a moment ! Dr. Edmister, this is n t the 
 sort of thing that a man can thank another for ; 
 at least, I can t to-day, If I seem slow to act, try 
 to believe that I ve strong reasons. But never 
 again distrust the strength of my impulse. That 
 remains." 
 
 The men clasped hands in silence. " I m go 
 ing fishing," the doctor said casually, " and will 
 look in again before supper time. Now take an 
 other nap." 
 
 Cole came at three o clock. His methodical 
 step was at curious variance with his bewildered 
 eyes. 
 
 " I ve sent for you to review the situation, 
 
236 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Cole." Mr. Proctor began at once on the heart 
 of the question. "You know the story of this 
 year. We won t go over it. It has come to 
 a point where Dr. Edmister and I seem to be 
 arrayed against the village. Even you, who are 
 conscientious, do not seem satisfied in my employ 
 ment. Why ? " 
 
 Cole leaned his head on his hand. " It is n t 
 that you have n t been a good man to me, Mr. 
 Proctor," he groped to find speech for his rea 
 sons, " but the Bible teaches us that righteous 
 ness can have no fellowship with unrighteousness. 
 I don t know. I pray about it. But if I take your 
 money have I a right to a share in the kingdom ? 
 Mr. Proctor, can t you come with us ? " 
 
 Proctor lay silent. "One shuns me for my 
 birthplace," he thought, " another for my manners ; 
 this man for my morals and belief. What a mask 
 I must have worn that I should have reached no 
 one ! Cole," he said aloud, " you must work this 
 out with your own conscience. Perhaps my way is 
 not so far from yours, after all. The roads have 
 different names, but the goal may be the same. 
 But as to Dr. Edmister I know you are his friend 
 at heart what turned people against him ? " 
 
 " It s the drink, for one thing," Cole hesitated. 
 " He prescribes liquor sometimes. Dr. Griggs " 
 
 " Yes, yes. But the drinking men are against 
 him, too." 
 
 " He s so thick with you that some don t like it. 
 Then they they think that you both feel your 
 selves too good." 
 
MR. PROCTOR SPEAKS 237 
 
 " I suppose that s the root of it all." Mr. Proc 
 tor had a black moment; his own folly seemed 
 to have been Dr. Edmister s undoing as well. 
 " About these anonymous warnings, Cole, and the 
 meetings in the feed loft ? " 
 
 "I don t know much. I didn t know about 
 the warnings. There was trouble among the men 
 when your uncle was alive. You see, he was a 
 Southerner the men say you re the same, Mr. 
 Proctor." 
 
 " I understand that side of it. Yes, a secret 
 society was already in existence when I first came. 
 Dr. Edmister was called there one night, and I 
 went with him. Heinrich had had trouble with 
 Yngve Torstenson." 
 
 Cole s reserved face moved to a show of amuse 
 ment. He evidently, Proctor saw, knew the story 
 better than it could be told him. 
 
 " Do you know why Heinrich hit Yngve ? " 
 Cole asked. 
 
 " No. But I think that Heinrich himself will 
 tell me. To go back to these meetings. Dr. 
 Griggs found a socialistic society already formed, 
 and he organized a temperance club and united the 
 two. Am I right?" 
 
 Cole looked protest. " Dr. Griggs urged us to 
 combine temperance with labor, and fight under 
 one banner." He fell at once into the doctor s 
 flowery phraseology. " But I never went to the 
 labor meetings, Mr. Proctor. Dr. Griggs did not 
 advise me to go." 
 
 " Dr. Griggs had discretion. In regard to 
 
238 THE LEGATEE 
 
 
 
 your own attitude, I wish that there had been 
 better fellowship between us. I think, had we 
 both been wiser, there might have been. I should 
 ask you to stay with me now, and work toward a 
 better understanding, if it were not that I look for 
 stormy times. As it is, I don t want to influence 
 you. Don t answer me now. Think it over. To 
 morrow morning I go to the mill and talk to the 
 men. Then you can tell me what you have de 
 cided." 
 
 " To-morrow morning ! Will you be well 
 enough ? " 
 
 " It must be to-morrow. Stop the machinery at 
 ten, and call the men upstairs. I 11 meet them 
 there. I don t want them to know of this accident 
 till after I ve seen them. If they hear of this 
 they will be on the defense, and I 11 be ten times 
 the taskmaster in their eyes. So keep it as quiet 
 as you can." 
 
 " But you ve no idea who did it ? " 
 
 " I 11 have a better idea before to-morrow s 
 over. Well, Cole," Mr. Proctor held out his 
 hand, " if you decide to leave me, I wish you 
 well with all my heart. You are a good man." 
 
 At ten the next morning the men were gathered 
 in the mill, and their faces assured Mr. Proctor, 
 as he stepped before them, that the story of the 
 lighthouse trail had not been told. 
 
 " Sit down, all of you," he said. " You can sit 
 on the log rollers, there, and on the carriage. I 
 know that you are tired, and I want you to listen. 
 Sit down." 
 
MR. PROCTOR SPEAKS 239 
 
 The men obeyed; their glances were confused 
 and troubled. The white-faced man addressing 
 them had more than his pallor, and the suggestive 
 bandages around his head, with which to command 
 their surprised obedience. His dominance, with 
 all his quiet, was assured. Master of them he 
 might be ; master of himself he assuredly ap 
 peared. 
 
 And he in turn saw that which impressed him. 
 He saw the slouch of limbs so wearied that they 
 dropped, flaccid and unresisting. He saw greasy 
 clothing and charcoal-blackened faces. Above all, 
 he saw the poverty of thought and living that the 
 vacant eyes expressed. 
 
 " Men, I have called you together to-day " he 
 spoke slowly, and stopped to choose his words 
 "to have a frank talk. We have not been on 
 good terms since I came here a year and a half 
 ago. There are many reasons for this, and we 
 have both been at fault. Let us look at the situa 
 tion fairly. To begin at the beginning, I came 
 from the South ; therefore you did not trust me. 
 You were rude to me from the first, not on my 
 own account, but because of my birthplace. That 
 angered me, and I grew impatient of you. Then 
 you began sending me these notices," he drew a 
 number of soiled papers from his pocket, and held 
 them before him, " threats, which you had not 
 the power to carry out, against my life and pro 
 perty. To crown all, night before last, one who 
 has been of your number struck me from behind. 
 Whether he represented your feeling or not, I do 
 
240 THE LEGATEE 
 
 not know, but his intention, for the time, was 
 murder. You see, do you not, that we must stop 
 right here, and come to an understanding? I 
 know that the trouble lies deeper than your dis 
 like of me personally. You want something from 
 me shorter hours and better wages. Am I 
 right, Stephenson ? " 
 
 Aslag Stephenson, head sawyer of the mill, 
 nodded. He looked puzzled and intent. 
 
 "As to the shorter hours," Mr. Proctor went 
 
 on, " no. If we run the mill on shorter hours, we 
 
 run it to its closing. It cannot pay. I have been 
 
 over the figures carefully. Our season is short, 
 
 and we are far from the markets. We must push 
 
 work while the season lasts. I know that eleven 
 
 hours is a long day s work, but eleven hours it 
 
 must be, so long as the market stands as it does 
 
 now. If I work two shifts I cannot pay you as 
 
 much as I do now, and that you would like even 
 
 less. The hours, then, cannot be changed. For 
 
 the wages, I am paying now all that I can afford, 
 
 and leave a safe margin of profit. But you are 
 
 not working as well as you can. This is what I 
 
 would propose: From now on, a percentage of 
 
 all that is made above this margin I will divide 
 
 among you, on a profit-sharing system that I will 
 
 explain. I cannot explain this to you fully, for 
 
 you would need to see the books ; but if you will 
 
 pick out one of your number whom you trust, and 
 
 who understands figures, I will take him into the 
 
 office and show him what I mean. I have been 
 
 slow in offering you this percentage, for I needed 
 
MR. PROCTOR SPEAKS 241 
 
 time to find out what I could afford to do. The 
 business was new, and I needed a year of experi 
 ence before I dared make changes. This, then, is 
 your answer. No reduction of hours, and no 
 change of wages except on a dividend basis. 
 Have you other requests ? " He stopped for an 
 swer, and the men shuffled and shook their heads. 
 
 " Have I touched on all that you wish to say ? " 
 he persisted. " This is your time." 
 
 There was further shaking of heads. " I think 
 that is all," Stephenson ventured. 
 
 " Then it remains to me to state my intentions 
 clearly. If you cannot accept the conditions I 
 have made, and work peaceably, I shall dismiss 
 you all. That sounds harsh but think. I am 
 giving you the best terms in my power, my 
 books will show that, and the more smoothly 
 you work the larger your profits. We have been 
 falling behind lately. This cannot go on. There 
 fore, if, from now on, one hand is raised against 
 me, if I find one more notice like these that I 
 hold here, the mill shall be closed. You have 
 worked together in hiding your meetings from me 
 in the past; work together now in preventing 
 them. For if one goes, all go. There is labor 
 enough to be had somewhere, but even if I do not 
 send for it, I can better afford to close my mill 
 than to run it at a loss. Are you following me ? " 
 
 The faces gave assent and attention, but Mr. 
 Proctor stopped, and leaned against one of the 
 upright timbers for support. The strain of his 
 weakness was telling. 
 
242 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " If we are through with business," he went on 
 again, " there is one thing more that I would like 
 to say. We have,, as employer and employed, 
 made mistakes. That is no reason why we should 
 go on making them. You took your stand against 
 me without reason. My ways were new to you, 
 therefore you did not like them. For my own 
 part, I, too, was severe from lack of understand 
 ing. I could not see, for one thing, why you 
 should be bitter over the war : you were the vic 
 tors. I know now that though you are foreigners, 
 many of you lost friends and brothers in the war, 
 and that they died for a cause that was not their 
 own because they felt that it stood for freedom 
 the freedom that they had crossed the ocean to 
 find. And that is not the only thing that I have 
 learned about you. I have learned of your 
 strength of heart in coming into this wilderness 
 to make a home; I have seen your self-denial 
 that your children might go to school. And these 
 things have made me wish to learn more ; to go 
 among you on a new footing of friendliness and 
 confidence. I cannot do this, however, by making 
 concessions that would hurt us all in the end. I 
 have told you what I can do. From to-day we 
 work on friendly terms or we part. You may go 
 home now. This shall be a holiday. Talk it 
 over ; think it over ; have meetings if you will. 
 To-morrow is the first of August. That is a good 
 time to begin on a new leaf. You need not tell 
 me what you intend. If the mill starts to-morrow 
 at six, that is all the answer I will need." He 
 
MR. PROCTOR SPEAKS 243 
 
 stopped and smiled at the men. It was a grave 
 smile, for he was tired, but it met a response that 
 revived his flagging strength. The men slouched 
 away without speaking, but they cast backward 
 looks of friendliness. 
 
 Cole remained and looked at his employer anx 
 iously. " You 11 go home now, Mr. Proctor, and 
 rest ? " 
 
 " In a moment. Yngve was not here. Did he 
 come to the mill this morning ? " 
 
 " No. Will you have him arrested? " 
 
 " For stealing Heinrich s belaying-pin ? What 
 should I do with him, with no jail within fifty 
 miles ? No, this is n t a matter for arresting any 
 one ; it s patience that will count now. The men 
 would have stayed with me, I think, if I d asked 
 for a vote this morning." 
 
 " I wish you d done it. They re all right now, 
 but they may get to talking." 
 
 " A vote this morning would n t have stood for 
 much but impulse. How suffocating this air is ! 
 No, I want them to agitate, and see Dr. Griggs, 
 and stir themselves up generally. Then if they 
 stay with me it will mean something. But I have 
 not had my superintendent s answer." 
 
 Cole held out his hand with a spontaneity that 
 was rare to him. " I m with you, Mr. Proctor. 
 I prayed I don t know whether I m right. But 
 I can t do anything else. God could n t mean for 
 me to desert now. If it was smooth times with 
 you it might be different, but now it would n t be 
 square." 
 
244 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Proctor took the hand, and let his eyes answer. 
 It came to him that in his appreciation of Cole s 
 allegiance his estimate of values had greatly al 
 tered in the year. 
 
 " You heard me tell the men that one of their 
 number had struck me," he said later. " I owe 
 you more of an explanation. I have good cause to 
 think that it was Adrien Lauzeone good cause, 
 but no proof. I learn that Adrien has n t been 
 seen since day before yesterday." 
 
 " But why should he run away ? You did n t 
 see him." 
 
 "No, but he had threatened me; then I used 
 his name just before the blow came, and he may 
 have thought that I saw him. I m sorry to be 
 lieve that it was Adrien. He s young ; that 
 makes me feel in a measure responsible." 
 
 Yes, he did feel responsible and not for 
 Adrien alone. The long stifling day of forced in 
 action wore upon his pain-racked nerves, and he 
 was almost irritated to feel that his sharpest anx 
 iety was not for himself. If he were forced to 
 close the mill, what could the men do to live? 
 The question cried for answer. He had become, 
 whether he would or no, his brother s keeper. 
 
 But the compensation for it all came to him 
 tliat evening as he sat at his window in the twi 
 light. The girl whose love for the people had 
 taught him this responsibility might not be for 
 him, but this part of her thought he had learned to 
 share. He held an understanding of her that no 
 one could take from him ; that was worth some pain. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 NEW FACETS 
 
 THE next morning dawned, as all the days 
 dawned now, hot and cloudless. The mill s whistle 
 blew the morning calls, and Mr. Proctor, break 
 fasting leisurely at his usual hour, did not look 
 toward the yards. He would learn soon enough, 
 and without effort, what was in store for him. He 
 had found a note from Katherine awaiting him, 
 and though it was in the simplest of phrases, ex 
 pressing her pleasure in his escape, he wished to 
 enjoy it undisturbed. It was the first time that she 
 had written him, and the tangible evidence of her 
 interest tempered the oppression of the morning. 
 
 Jessie projected her head into the opening of the 
 kitchen door. She never walked definitely upright, 
 and she never stopped ; her body simply followed 
 her investigating head in a slanting line. 
 
 " Aslag Stephenson s waiting to see you," she 
 cannonaded. 
 
 So it was to be war. Proctor turned an un 
 moved face. "I am going to my office. Tell 
 Stephenson he can come to me there." 
 
 As he walked to the office he heard the whir of 
 saws. They must, after all, be working, and have 
 sent a delegate to see the books. Yet how could 
 
246 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Stephenson be spared? The man himself an 
 swered. His blond bulk filled the doorway, but 
 despite his inches he was ill at ease. 
 
 "Is it the books, Stephenson?" 
 
 The giant grew ruddy. " No, sir, it s to ask you 
 to compromise. We had a meeting last night " 
 
 " It s of no use, Stephenson." Mr. Proctor 
 turned to the door. " I gave you my answer yes 
 terday. There is no ground for compromise." 
 
 Cole came in a moment later, and his expression 
 did away with need of comment. 
 
 " Shall we shut down ? " he asked. 
 
 "At once. The men were paid yesterday. 
 Come to the office as soon as you re through, and 
 we 11 look the situation over. We ve several alter 
 natives." 
 
 And so silence descended upon Wilsonport. 
 The drone of the machinery was as much a part 
 of the summer s life as the song of the cicadas by 
 the roadside, and this unnatural stillness was more 
 jarring than noise. Some vital principle of the 
 year s unfolding seemed to be lost, and the strike, 
 like the heat and the drought, confused the senses 
 by its strangeness. 
 
 Life itself was confusing. The men, unused to 
 liberty, grew moody and irritable in their efforts 
 to use their freedom to its utmost. They waited 
 for the initiative from Mr. Proctor, but he went 
 through the days with an unconcern of manner 
 that told them nothing. His wound was trouble 
 some, and he gave himself over to idleness, with 
 no apparent care. 
 
NEW FACETS 247 
 
 " Go home, Proctor," Dr. Edmister begged at 
 the end of the second week. The men were sitting 
 on Mr. Proctor s porch, facing the lake. " You re 
 only making the men furious by doing nothing, and 
 I don t want another cracked crown on my hands. 
 This one of yours will take some time to heal, and 
 you re looking white. Isn t Detiere capable of 
 handling Birch Creek alone ? " 
 
 "Detiere is capable of handling this entire 
 village, and I think that I 11 let him do it. My 
 plans are about matured, and I was going to tell 
 you about them. I m going to change crews, and 
 open the mill Detiere here, Cole at Birch Creek. 1 
 
 The doctor s face was an interrogation point. 
 
 " It will be easily done," Proctor went on. " De 
 tiere can manage this mill with his Belgians. I ve 
 been over the work with him, and he understands 
 all that is necessary. Cole is to go to the shingle 
 mill. That s easier work for beginners, of course, 
 and we ve picked up a few lads from the farms. 
 We 11 be a little short-handed at both ends, but 
 we can say that we re running the two mills. 
 That s something." 
 
 " And I thought that you were sleeping after 
 noons, and reading week-old papers ! " 
 
 " I ve had no opportunity to tell you what I was 
 doing, and secrecy seemed necessary with the men. 
 It s a poor solution, but the best that offered." 
 
 " I don t see where you will lose from now on." 
 
 " I may not lose anything. But my way is n t 
 clear as regards the men. I can t make conces 
 sions that would be the elixir of madness. But 
 
248 THE LEGATEE 
 
 the men must have work. I would n t import out 
 side labor ; that would cut me off from taking these 
 men back. Detiere s crew can be shifted at any 
 time." 
 
 The doctor laid his hand on the young man s 
 arm. " You re taking a great deal of thought for 
 these men who have tried to injure you." 
 
 Proctor s face did not light. "I m taking it 
 too late, I fear. If I had acted on your teaching 
 earlier yes, Dr. Edmister, I could not know you 
 and your daughter without learning charity I 
 might have saved the men from this open rebel 
 lion. Then I could have won them in time. They 
 are easily swayed. It was Yngve who swung the 
 balance against me last night." 
 
 " You think it was not Dr. Griggs ? " 
 
 " Yes and no. I think we ve been inclined to 
 give Griggs too much credit. The seeds of revolt 
 were sown before his time he s been little more 
 than gardener. I think that I ve the story of 
 Heinrich and the feed loft at last." 
 
 " He told you ? " 
 
 " I suppose I trapped him into it. He said that 
 he had made a vow not to tell, and in explaining 
 what a vow was he blundered out enough of the 
 story for me to supply the rest. It seems Yngve in 
 duced Heinrich to join their secret society. When 
 Heinrich found that they were talking anarchy, 
 he threatened to expose them; whereon Yngve 
 taunted him with his vow." 
 
 " So Heinrich knocked him down," the doctor 
 completed. " I thought that I saw the triumph of 
 
NEW FACETS 249 
 
 the reformer in Heinrich s eyes that night. Well, 
 if Dr. Griggs has n t been the driving wheel, who 
 has?" 
 
 " They ve lacked a wheel else all this would 
 have come to a head earlier. As I see the situ 
 ation now, Dr. Griggs has been little more than 
 their oracle their visible testimony that their 
 views were sound and their ways righteous. He 
 found this labor movement ready for his hand, 
 and it suited his ends to foster it up to a point. 
 I ve no idea that he intended to permit this defi 
 nite revolt. If he d wanted a strike, he could have 
 brought it about two months ago. No, I doubt 
 that we 11 hear much about him from now on. If 
 the men don t work, they 11 have no money ; if 
 they don t have money, they can t pay him. He 
 must have worked out the logic of that long ago. 
 I think that Yngve has the reins now." 
 
 " Poor lad ! With his temperament it was the 
 turn of a copper whether he should preach anarchy 
 or salvation." 
 
 " Poor people, I should say!" Proctor turned 
 in his chair impatiently as the thought came home 
 to him. " For Yngve has their ear. I could hear 
 him last night ; he was talking in the square by 
 the church. It would have had its ludicrous 
 side if there had n t been so much at stake. He 
 had Dr. Griggs s intonations and vocabulary and 
 Adrien s ideas. It was an ingenious patchwork." 
 
 The doctor was silent for a time. " So the mill s 
 to open Monday. Will Detiere s men bring then 
 families ? " 
 
250 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Not now. There s nowhere to put them. 
 We 11 try it as it is for a time. We may need the 
 whole force to fight fire before the month s over. 
 The tamarack swamp south of the creek is burn 
 ing I heard last night and I can t afford to 
 let the fire spread into the heavy timber. I sent 
 out men last night, but I may need more." 
 
 "We ll have rain before many days. This 
 drought can t last. It will seem good to hear the 
 saws whistling again, but " the doctor extended 
 a warning hand " don t work too hard. There s 
 need of your strength ahead." 
 
 The doctor had been gone an hour or more, when 
 Mr. Proctor, turning easily in his lounging chair, 
 heard the click of his gate. He looked but once, 
 and was on his feet. 
 
 " Miss Katherine ! " He took the girl s hand, 
 and led her up to the veranda. " I ve waited for 
 this every day since I ve been an invalid." 
 
 The girl had lost the happy comradeship of man 
 ner that she had shown him in the earlier summer. 
 " I ve a plan," she announced rather breathlessly. 
 
 " So this is n t a visit ? " There was disappoint 
 ment in the question, whatever its raillery of tone, 
 and Katherine answered it seriously. 
 
 " But, Mr. Proctor," she said slowly, " I m sure 
 you know that I ve thought about you all these 
 days. Yet we have n t had room to feel sorry, 
 father and I, we ve been so glad it was no worse. 
 You must know that." 
 
 " It s good to hear it, anyway," the man 
 smiled at the water, " and it s doubly good to 
 see you. It s been a long time." 
 
NEW FACETS 251 
 
 " Yes, you have been very busy this summer." 
 She dismissed the subject in some haste. "I ve 
 been to see Olive, and she told me about your 
 pl ans that Mr. Cole was going to Birch Creek. 
 Please don t look black. Of course she ought not 
 to have told me, but I don t tell things, and 
 she was worrying about her husband about 
 having him go out there alone. I told her I was 
 going to tell you that she had told me, and made 
 her say that she was willing. You re not vexed ? " 
 
 " I like you to know about my plans. I m not 
 in the least I am gratified, Miss Katherine." 
 Mr. Proctor still smiled at the water. " Go on. 
 All this is prelude." 
 
 " How easy you make things ! " The girl gave 
 a luxurious sigh. " Yes, it s a prelude. But, 
 about the mill, I was sure that you were doing 
 something. I knew that you were not giving up 
 as you seemed to be, and I ve waited for the 
 whistles every day. I knew that you would n t 
 give up." 
 
 " Why would n t I? " It was childish, but he 
 wished to hear her say it. He was entitled to some 
 indulgence ; he had few pleasures, and he had been 
 ill. He enumerated his excuses even as he spoke. 
 
 The girl scrutinized him, and bit her lip. 
 " Why, you could n t, and be why, of course 
 you could n t ! I told father so and so you see 
 it was n t so much Olive s fault, after all the 
 telling me. And I want to go out to Birch Creek 
 with Olive, and teach the school." 
 
 Mr. Proctor dropped his study of the water, and 
 fell to earth with a crash. 
 
252 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " To Birch Creek ! " he protested. 
 
 Katherine held out her hand at his dismay. 
 " I ve been dreading that tone. I am not mad, 
 most noble Festus. Let me show you how simple 
 it is. Father has an invitation to read a paper at 
 the National Medical Convention, or a something 
 like that. It meets at Philadelphia next month. 
 He s been sending papers to the medical journals 
 on a something with a long name, and they want 
 him to discuss it. I think that he would go if it 
 were not for leaving me. Now Olive can t go to 
 Birch Creek without another woman at least, 
 her husband says that she can t. Don t you see 
 how it all works out ? If I can get the school 
 there, I can stay with Olive, and at the same time 
 earn some money, and father can go away." She 
 stopped, with a climax of triumph. 
 
 Mr. Proctor turned the thought over. "It 
 sounds feasible. Are you sure there s a school ? " 
 
 " Yes, there s a school, and the term begins 
 soon. I know that you did n t want to influence 
 father before, but this is different. Will you try 
 to make father see that I shall be safe, and that 
 it is the right thing to do ? " 
 
 " But Birch Creek ! It s a wild place, even 
 with the men away. Miss Katherine, I don t 
 like " 
 
 Katherine rose with a grave little air of dignity. 
 " Must I hear that from you both I Think, Mr. 
 Proctor, of what it means to me. My father is 
 not well. I have been alone with him this spring 
 and summer, and have seen him change and grow 
 
NEW FACETS 253 
 
 old from day to day. He has changed so much, 
 and there has been nothing for me to do or say 
 but this is my opportunity. If he goes now, he 
 will have excuse. He can t feel that he has de 
 serted, or that I have been meddling. Even if he 
 stays but a few weeks it will be a gain. Can you 
 see how much is in the balance and still tell me 
 that Birch Creek is a rough place ? " 
 
 " I can tell you that I trust your wisdom, and 
 that I will help you always. In return may 
 I play guardian while your father is away, Lady 
 Patricia?" 
 
 The girl flushed. " I m glad that Mr. Cabell 
 went away before this trouble began." She made 
 no attempt to hide her understanding of the allu 
 sion. " He would have been so impatient of it all ! 
 He never could make allowances." 
 " But am I to be guardian ? " 
 " Is it always pound for pound with you?" she 
 asked wrathfully. " Your idea of playing guardian 
 would be to make me walk from Olive s to the 
 schoolhouse with my eyes on a crack." 
 " Miss Katherine, I m serious." 
 "You always are serious." An attempt at a 
 sigh escaped into a smile. " That s why I don t 
 want to promise. If you say to father that you 11 
 be responsible for my up-risings and down-sittings 
 while he s away, you 11 give me a great deal of 
 time and thought that you can t afford to spare. 
 You 11 be trying all the time to see that I m com 
 fortable. You re going to need all your time and 
 strength for your own perplexities, and and I 
 don t want to promise." 
 
254 THE LEGATEE 
 
 "Then there s nothing more to be said." The 
 man picked up a book from the veranda floor, and 
 straightened its crumpled leaves. " Where is Che 
 valier to-day? " 
 
 " Oh," Katherine groaned, " why did n t the 
 fairy godmothers give me tact and you percep 
 tion ! Can t you see that it s only that I don t 
 want to burden you more than is necessary ? You 
 must know that I would n t come to you as I do 
 unless I felt sure of your interest and friendship 
 for father and me. But you do take things seri 
 ously, and you d take me so. However, if you re 
 going to look at me in this way, yes, a thousand 
 times yes ! " 
 
 The man s mouth quirked. " But it s a serious 
 matter, the following of your mental processes. 
 You may be right. Responsibility for your moods 
 might prove a burden." 
 
 Katherine laughed. " It would be more than a 
 burden what Mr. Green would call a chore. 
 I must go now. And to think that the mill is to 
 start Monday! " She rose and looked down at the 
 silent buildings. " You will speak to father ? " 
 
 " I *11 go with you now." Mr. Proctor hesitated. 
 "Will you leave the school for me to arrange? 
 I 11 be at Birch Creek a great deal from now on ; 
 it will be very simple." 
 
 " I think that it is always simple for you to 
 be kind." The words faltered, and in dismay 
 the girl seized upon another sentence. " Is n t it 
 strange about Adrien! You know that he has 
 disappeared, don t you ? " 
 
NEW FACETS 255 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Katherine looked up. " What why, do you 
 know where he is ? " 
 
 " The impression seems to be that he has 
 shipped on a wood schooner. He had a quarrel 
 with his father, the men say. His father wanted 
 him to do some work for me." 
 
 Katherine looked rebuffed and doubtful. These 
 smooth phrases were not Mr. Proctor s thought. 
 
 " Shall we go ? " she asked, with a little indraw- 
 ing of her lip. 
 
 The man looked at her over the back of his 
 chair ; his eyes could not hide his exultation that 
 she should have read him so well. " But I ve told 
 you all that I know," he expostulated. " I ve no 
 knowledge of where Adrien is. My suspicions 
 amount to nothing." 
 
 " You have suspicions ? Adrien Adrien and 
 I were friends." Katherine s voice was suddenly 
 difficult to control. 
 
 Mr. Proctor was making up his mind. " Miss 
 Katherine, will you stay a few minutes longer 
 here, this chair is more comfortable and let me 
 tell you the story of my suspicions ? You are com 
 mitted to a long business tale if you do." 
 
 Katherine checked the affirmative that her lips 
 formed. " Do you really wish to tell me ? " she 
 asked soberly. "You remember that I that I 
 once made trouble for you." 
 
 Was it possible that she was still grieving over 
 that memory ? Mr. Proctor studied her he had 
 opportunity, for her eyes were downcast and her 
 
256 THE LEGATEE 
 
 close pressed lips told him that the thought that 
 she had summoned was one of sore humiliation. 
 She looked so like a hurt child that his hand went 
 out to her. 
 
 " Now, is it fair " his short laugh was at once 
 emotion s herald and its check " to build a wall 
 between us on that ground? I ve told you a 
 little That memory is precious to me, Miss 
 Katherine. Some day But now I m going to 
 tell you this story." 
 
 He told the story fully. The notices, Heinrich s 
 belaying-pin, Yngve, the night upon the lighthouse 
 trail he withheld nothing. They had fallen, as 
 her father had said, on evil times ; she must be 
 armed with knowledge. 
 
 " But if Adrien comes to you," he concluded, 
 " or if you see him accidentally, don t turn away. 
 Whatever he did and we don t know that he did 
 anything is past." 
 
 It was the poised, mature Katherine that with 
 varying eyes had followed the growth of his story, 
 and that looked up at him now. 
 
 " Was I wrong in giving up Adrien s friendship ? 
 I could n t hurt Ferdinante that way when I learned 
 what I was doing. For Karen had hurt me she 
 did n t intend it. So I knew. But how can I help 
 you with Adrien ? " 
 
 " How can you help me ? " 
 
 " How can I help you get him back ? I know 
 that you feel responsible for him, just as you do for 
 the men. I heard what you tried to do." 
 
 " But I failed with the men utterly. One 
 
NEW FACETS 257 
 
 does n t accomplish democracy in one speech after 
 indifference of a year. I don t know how we can 
 any of us reach Adrien. I think he s in the woods 
 in semi-hiding. People are too ready in assuring 
 me that he has gone away. He s probably preach 
 ing communism to the wood-choppers." He 
 stopped and looked off at the lighthouse point. 
 With his look came pictures of the lad and lass who 
 had danced to Heinrich s violin less than a year 
 before. No wonder that Adrien s name brought 
 tears to the girl s eyes ! 
 
 " Adrien will justify himself, yet," he said, with 
 a change of tone. " Ferdinante will bring him to 
 manhood if a woman can and it was you who 
 saved him for Ferdinante. Now shall we go and 
 find your father ? " 
 
 They found the doctor in his office. It was a 
 long talk that the men had as the sun dropped to 
 sunset. Katherine was not with them, but she 
 was called at last and told that she had gained 
 her point. 
 
 " And, Katherine," her father held her hand 
 a moment, " Mr. Proctor tells me that he has 
 promised to be guardian. You may have need of 
 him. Remember that I wish you to go to him 
 freely if you do." 
 
 The girl looked up. Her father and Mr. Proc 
 tor were looking at her intently. Did their quiet 
 scrutiny mean that they felt that she would prove 
 a care ? She read their scrutiny as gravity over 
 the responsibility that she might be. 
 
 " I 11 try not to give you trouble," she said a 
 little unsteadily. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 CROSS-CURRENTS 
 
 Six o clock of the next Monday morning heard 
 the call of the mill s whistles, and the drowsy vil 
 lage was galvanized to instant life. Each door 
 showed a protruding head ; the blue puffing smoke 
 that rose against the sulphur of the morning sky 
 stood for a surprise that to the on-lookers was near 
 to tragedy. They were unprepared ; Cole, always 
 silent, had had no difficulty in keeping his move 
 ments from their knowledge, and Detiere s men 
 had been brought in late the night before. 
 
 The opening of the mill was dramatic in that it 
 was unexpectedly commonplace. The Belgians 
 worked indifferently, stolidly oblivious of jeers and 
 imprecations ; Detiere, conscious to his ringer tips 
 of the effectiveness of his pose, looked a bronze 
 statue of indifference ; and Mr. Proctor, at work 
 in his office, seemed equally unconcerned. The 
 men could make nothing of the situation, and sur 
 prise deprived them of the power of vituperation, 
 which had comforted them hitherto. Lack of ex 
 citement left them baffled. The importation of 
 outside labor they had been prepared to meet and 
 resent, but Louis Detiere s appearance changed the 
 horizon ; the cries of " scab," which they raised at 
 intervals, seemed ineffective. 
 
CROSS-CURRENTS 259 
 
 The next morning a committee waited on Mr. 
 Proctor, and asked him to submit new terms. He 
 heard them with patience, but shook his head. 
 
 " You must come to my terms," he said. " I 
 gave you in the beginning the best terms that I 
 can offer. I can only tell you again that if I con 
 cede more, the mill will be run without profit if 
 not at a loss. In the end that will hurt you as 
 well as me. For no mill will come here if I fail. 
 There s too little good timber left. I gave you 
 the opportunity to discuss this two weeks ago. 
 For the present the subject is closed." 
 
 There was silence in the little office, as he fin 
 ished, and the waves of heat that rose from the 
 floor beat upon the company with the distinctness 
 of sound. 
 
 " But there is work for you if you will do it," 
 Mr. Proctor went on. " You can go into the woods 
 and get out shingles by hand. I will buy all that 
 you bring here to market." 
 
 The men listened sullenly. They had shaved 
 shingles ; it was harder than the mill work, and 
 the pay was small. Then, too, they had no teams. 
 Sick memories came of early days when they had 
 worn wooden yokes and drawn their own carts to 
 the settlement. 
 
 Mr. Proctor watched their faces. "I think 
 that it is only fair to tell you," he said slowly, 
 " that Detiere and his men go well armed by 
 my permission. This is because an attack was 
 made upon me, and because I feel responsible for 
 the safety of the inen in my employment. If you 
 
260 THE LEGATEE 
 
 can understand what is the truth that I am 
 trying to arrange this with your welfare in mind, 
 you will not resort to force. But it may prevent 
 trouble for you to know that Detiere s men are 
 prepared for it." 
 
 The men walked away with bent heads. The 
 day was lowering with a hot wind which tore the 
 lake to spray ; earth seemed leagued with air for 
 their undoing. They wiped the dust from their 
 moist faces, and their mouths grew dogged. Fair 
 words did not put their names back on the pay 
 roll. As to going into the woods to get out 
 shingles, that would be a confession of failure. 
 Their leader had told them that labor must always 
 keep the upper hand. 
 
 In the house on the bluff events moved swiftly. 
 The doctor, once stirred, was a man of action. 
 The house was to be closed for two months, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Green were to go to Vermont for a 
 visit, and Katherine was to teach at Birch Creek. 
 It was, as Katherine had prophesied, very simple 
 in the doing. 
 
 But "good-bys," Katherine learned, were not 
 simple in the saying. Yet she said hers without 
 tears. She stood alone with her father in the 
 close cabin of the steamer, and was held tightly in 
 a long embrace. The red plush settees wavered 
 before her eyes, but her smile was brave. 
 
 " Good-by, daughter." It was the man who 
 could not command his voice at this last moment. 
 "Don t stay here. Let Mr. Proctor take you 
 home with Olive. Good-by." 
 
CROSS-CURRENTS 261 
 
 The gang-plank was withdrawn ; the steamer 
 gave a warning lurch, and backed away. The 
 doctor grasped the white-painted rail of the stern, 
 and looked down into the faces turned toward him, 
 Mr. Proctor, Heinrich, Olive, a group of men 
 from the store, some who had been of the mill, 
 and in the centre, Katherine, her eyes bright, 
 her tremulous smile ready. He looked at them 
 and at the village ; and the scene, shimmering un 
 steadily in waves of heat, grew remote and 
 unreal. Why was he leaving? He was needed 
 there. Already he looked at the picture as from 
 a world removed. The shifting floor under his 
 feet belonged to the country that lay beyond the 
 horizon line, and his heart cried for the land that 
 was slipping away. It had never looked lonelier 
 than now, as it lay parched and dust-blown before 
 him ; but its very dreariness clutched his heart. 
 All that he saw he knew, as he knew the curves 
 of his forest trail; it was his by right of labor. 
 Had he the right to leave his post ? The steamer 
 turned the southern horn of the crescent, and the 
 pier melted into indistinctness ; the brown house 
 on the bluff looked down from its rocky shelf with 
 that air of abiding loneliness which an hour of 
 absence of the family life can bring. Its shut 
 tered windows echoed the good-by in the doctor s 
 heart. It was good-by for two months only. Yet 
 what might two months not bring ? 
 
 The watching group upon the pier scattered 
 slowly. Dr. Edmister s tall figure, familiar as the 
 pines upon the lighthouse ledge, had gained dis- 
 
262 THE LEGATEE 
 
 tinction in their eyes, at this last moment, and 
 they felt oddly lonely. Late awakening to re 
 morse that old punishment of Life, the school 
 master made their speech scant. The doctor 
 had been always patient and tireless, they remem 
 bered now. Then they growled at the weather, 
 and walked away. 
 
 Olive and Heinrich, who started home with 
 Katherine, were vociferously cheerful painting 
 the pleasures of the doctor s trip with startling 
 pigments. Mr. Proctor listened for a moment, 
 then came to Katherine. 
 
 " Will you come down on the beach with me ? " 
 he asked. " We can go to the point and watch 
 the steamer." 
 
 Katherine turned a look which did not conceal 
 its gratitude, and they walked in silence to where 
 the widening view showed them the steamer once 
 more, a swaying exclamation point of gray break 
 ing the blue which stretched to the horizon. 
 
 Mr. Proctor drew a water-bleached log down 
 toward the wave line, and cushioned it with moss 
 from a wind-blown hemlock. 
 
 " There ! " He studied his upholstery with an 
 admiration that gave him excuse for avoiding the 
 girl s eyes. " You are to sit there, and cry to 
 your heart s content. Cry as you ve been wishing 
 to all this week. For a little while don t try to be 
 brave." 
 
 To his surprise the girl turned to him a pair of 
 clear eyes. 
 
 " How did you know - but you re wrong, after 
 
CROSS-CURRENTS 263 
 
 all. I don t want to be left alone, and I m not 
 going to cry. I want to talk to you for a moment ; 
 then I must go to the house and help Olive. We 
 go to Birch Creek to-morrow. And you re not 
 to give your charge a moment s thought. I m not 
 going to be lonely. I m going to work work. 
 I learned it in the copy books that work was a 
 refuge." 
 
 " A refuge ? " 
 
 " From unpleasant thoughts. I Ve read it from 
 my Second Reader on that work was a narcotic 
 for unhappiness." 
 
 " And sometimes an outlet for joy ? " The 
 question sounded casual, but the man dug among 
 the stones at his feet with unnecessary energy. 
 
 " I don t know. Joy means contentment," said 
 the girl sagely. " If people are satisfied with what 
 the day brings them, why should they go out in 
 the highroad, where the stones are rough and the 
 sun hot?" 
 
 " Ambition by this sin fell the angels ? " 
 
 " Oh, ambition ! " The girl frowned, though 
 a dimple shifted. " That s a word, a formula, a 
 phrase to hide behind. I ve thought of it often 
 lately. I have n t been happy this winter, but 
 when I was busy I could forget. And I ve won 
 dered if that was what pushed people to great 
 deeds that they might forget. It s a strange 
 thought that the pictures that have been 
 painted, and the bridges that have been built, 
 stand for the men and women who have found 
 that they had blundered that life was n t giving 
 
264 THE LEGATEE 
 
 them what they had the right to expect and 
 who have been too proud to complain." 
 
 The man was at a loss for reply. If he took her 
 seriously She solved the query with a catch of 
 laughter. 
 
 " How sorry you must be for me," her lip 
 gave an unexpected quiver, " to listen in such 
 a matter of fact way ! But I m not going to be 
 lonely father would grieve. And I came down 
 here to ask you not to think of me as in your 
 charge." 
 
 " But you are in my charge. I 11 try to be an 
 indulgent guardian." 
 
 " Please don t think it a jest. I know that you 
 and father felt that I did n t understand ; that I 
 did n t know how serious the situation had grown, 
 and that I might try to live at Birch Creek as I 
 have lived here. But I do understand. I 11 
 promise anything you like. It shall be from 
 Olive s to the schoolhouse, and from the school- 
 house to Olive s. I 11 not stray an inch from the 
 highroad. Only, you re to promise not to think 
 of me as a care ; riot to consider me in your 
 charge." 
 
 " But, Miss Katherine, it is a pleasure " 
 
 "For you, perhaps, not for me. For please 
 see my side of it. For you I know that you are 
 ready that it is a pleasure to do a kindness. 
 But there is no need of giving you unnecessary 
 care. I realize more than you think the 
 weight that you are carrying. There is something 
 strange in the air. The drought, the heat ; it is 
 
CROSS-CURRENTS 265 
 
 all beginning to tell. We are none of us our 
 selves. Don t you suppose that I can see how this 
 affects you? You have more than a man s bur 
 den. You must hold the men to sanity, yet go 
 on with your business. You need a steady hand 
 
 and all of your time." 
 
 " If I may see you occasionally, it will help me 
 
 keep my hand steady." 
 
 She looked at him almost wistfully ; her glance 
 begged that he should not put her off with small 
 courtesies. 
 
 "You have been too busy this summer," she 
 went on, her mouth set to determined gravity, 
 " to come to see father as you used to do. Yet 
 I know that there has been no change in your 
 friendship. It has been only that you were ab 
 sorbed. And now you will be more so. You 
 won t have time to think or speak to me till this 
 is over." 
 
 He looked at her hopelessly, moved, through all 
 his sudden wrath, by the grim humor of the situ 
 ation. Now that his honor at last permitted him 
 to see something of this girl, was she to build new 
 barriers between them ? 
 
 She was, and moreover she was doing it with a 
 dignity of intention that he could not overlook. 
 Try as he might, he found no trace of pique in 
 face or tone. He saw her point of view with dis 
 quieting clearness. She wished to carry her share 
 of the day s burden, and would do it by taking 
 what responsibility she could into her own hands. 
 
 He rose, and threw a handful of pebbles at the 
 
266 THE LEGATEE 
 
 water. " Does n t it occur to you that as elderly 
 and remarkable a person as you announce 
 me to be might be competent to arrange his own 
 times to suit his pleasure ? " 
 
 " But you do see what I mean, Mr. Proctor ? " 
 Eyes and mouth spoke radiant satisfaction. "I 
 promise to be twice as careful as even you would 
 ask. And now I must go home." 
 
 They walked to the point in silence. Mr. Proc 
 tor was biting back some sentences ; they did not 
 belong to his present character as cold and cau 
 tious guardian. 
 
 As they rounded the point, Paul Livingstone 
 stood in their way. He stopped, and raised his 
 hand. Mr. Proctor s bow he did not appear to 
 see, but he stepped in front of Katherine. 
 
 " So your father left you," he said pityingly. 
 " Did he think to escape from the wrath that is 
 to come ? Tell him that the city of refuge is 
 ,not to be found by flight; that in the Day of 
 Judgment the strong will be scattered even as the 
 weak." 
 
 Katherine raised her eyes ; clear and steady they 
 met the wavering intensity of the schoolmaster s 
 glance. 
 
 " My father is coming back soon, Mr. Living 
 stone ; but what do you mean ? " 
 
 The man pointed to the black-piled clouds that 
 lay on the horizon, then to the dust-laden forest. 
 " Search the Scriptures." He walked away, but 
 his voice followed them. " The hills melt, and 
 the earth is burned at his presence. The Lord 
 
CROSS-CURRENTS 267 
 
 has written his warnings for him who cares to 
 read." 
 
 Whatever her will, Katherine shivered. " Let 
 us go." She drew nearer to Mr. Proctor. " Oh, 
 if it would only rain ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 DAY BY DAY 
 
 KATHERINE S cry for rain was not more insist 
 ent than Mr. Proctor s unspoken plea for a few 
 days of calm weather. The clouds, which held no 
 rain these latter days, were prodigal of wind, and 
 the beach was lined with wreckage. So long as Dr. 
 Edmister was on the water, Mr. Proctor watched 
 his barometer with anxiety. 
 
 But the three days that the steamer needed to 
 Chicago passed in quiet, and letters followed soon 
 after. The doctor was well ; was having a pleas 
 ant trip. In the schoolroom on the Birch Creek 
 road, Katherine, with a mouth that relaxed in 
 curves it had sometimes forgotten this past year, 
 smiled at her dozen pupils. 
 
 There was little smiling in the village. Sep 
 tember, whose name had held healing in its syl 
 lables as it summoned pictures of autumns gone 
 before, had come, and brought no change. The 
 chill of the lengthening shadows could not color 
 the dried and dropping leaves. The land lay 
 parched and gasping. 
 
 The sun was veiled, indeed, but days proved that 
 what had at first seemed fog, was the low lying 
 smoke of forest fires. Mr. Proctor doubled his 
 
DAY BY DAY 269 
 
 force along the fire line, but the tangled depths 
 of the tamarack swamps guarded the smouldering 
 sparks with a cunning that overmatched the men. 
 Wood schooners, touching at the pier, brought 
 grave reports from the next county. Rain must 
 come soon, or the loss of timber would be wide 
 spread. 
 
 At Xavier Lauzeone s the men talked vaguely 
 of the might of labor, but the heat which robbed 
 their nights of rest palsied their thought and will. 
 A few went into the timber and began work, but 
 public disapproval manacled their steps ; the mill, 
 meanwhile, whirred on its undisturbed way, and 
 Detiere s black-browed crew smiled insolently as 
 they pointed to the growing piles of lumber. 
 
 Mr. Proctor went through the furnace of the 
 days with an even pace. The muscular leanness 
 of his long limbs was telling now, and he forced 
 his way through the numbing lassitude that mas 
 tered others. 
 
 He was driving, as Katherine had said that he 
 would, with a steady hand. But whither did the 
 road lead ? He could not look ahead ; but he went 
 on and on, counting each day as gain, though the 
 goal was hidden. His mills prospered ; not so the 
 men whom he chose to consider as his responsi 
 bility. The see-saw of interest made his position a 
 constant effort for balance. If Detiere s crew did 
 their work as well as it had been done in Cole s 
 day, they would presume upon their success. That 
 would mean riot. Yet, if the mills did not make 
 money, what could the man do whose purse stood 
 for the livelihood of the village ? 
 
270 THE LEGATEE 
 
 His overtures to the men must be tentative. He 
 had tried to meet them frankly and had been 
 repulsed. His dignity as a superior force was a 
 needed weapon in his armament, and he would not 
 blunt it. 
 
 It came to him as possible that he might reach 
 the women. The elementary needs would have 
 double force with them ; children were hungry, 
 whatever the ethics of a cause, and credit at the 
 mill store would not last. But the withdrawal 
 that met his efforts at friendliness with the wives 
 showed that it was late to gain a hearing there. 
 He had built no foundations. Half-lifted eye 
 brows made him aware that the tale of his slights 
 to Karen had found listeners. The absurdity of 
 the misunderstanding did not make it the less piti 
 ful. The facts, as lived before the women, moved 
 them less than the suggestion that one of their 
 number had been jilted by the man who held them 
 in his power. Karen s open preference for the 
 schoolmaster had not impressed them, save as an 
 expedient of hurt vanity. Whatever their respect 
 for Livingstone, they were evidently scornful of 
 him in the capacity of cavalier. 
 
 There remained Yngve but Yngve had tasted 
 the wine of leadership. And in this leadership 
 lay a shadowing of tragedy, as Mr. Proctor knew. 
 Yngve s blatant generalities would lead the men 
 only so far he could not convince them to con 
 certed action. They distrusted his youth, yet 
 lacked an abler mouthpiece. Concerted action 
 could be met in the open, but this formless irrita- 
 
DAY BY DAY 271 
 
 tion would find head in the insanity of a blind 
 clamor for revenge. Then it would be a knife or 
 a blow in the dark. 
 
 There were days when Mr. Proctor s composure 
 was a poor mask days when the futility of it all 
 weighed mercilessly. Cui bono? But physical 
 weariness was his friend. Grinding labor gave 
 him dreamless sleep then strength for the next 
 day. 
 
 He rode often to Birch Creek, but not to see 
 Katherine. His first visit to her had been met 
 with such a mingling of reserve and pleading 
 gentleness that it seemed cruel to repeat it. She 
 could see in his courtesies nothing but effort to 
 fulfill his promise to her father. Remembering his 
 avoidance of her during the summer, what better 
 understanding could he ask ? He knew that she 
 was well, and he contented himself, as he rode by 
 the schoolhouse, with a glimpse of Chevalier, who 
 sat, a frigid image of responsibility, upon the door- 
 stone. 
 
 Olive he saw often. Her white kitchen was a 
 breathing-place. Here was a household spirit that 
 moved serenely, careless of the grimness of the 
 forest so long as her husband shared her life. 
 
 Katherine was happy, Olive said. The girl s 
 books lay on the table ; her hat hung on the nail 
 by the door. The air told of home and content 
 ment, of courage that helped Mr. Proctor through 
 his weary days. 
 
 He was thinking this, somewhat indefinitely, one 
 afternoon as he turned his horse homeward. He 
 
272 THE LEGATEE 
 
 was later than usual, and might meet Katherine 
 on the road. He drew his horse to a snail s pace 
 at the suggestion. But the dusty stretch before 
 him remained unbroken, and the sharpness of his 
 disappointment turned him with a frown to the 
 schoolhouse. He was acting a boy s part. He 
 could at least give himself the satisfaction of her 
 face. 
 
 The children had gone home, and Katherine sat, 
 back to the door, examining a pile of slates. The 
 dust of the highway padded the horse s hoofs with 
 silence, and Mr. Proctor came unobserved to the 
 door. He stopped, till his mouth should be able 
 to hide its telltale joy. The impressive preoccu 
 pation of this schoolmistress must be met with an 
 attempt at equal solemnity. 
 
 He coughed at last. " They always cough on 
 the stage," he said apologetically, "when the 
 heroine refuses to turn around." 
 
 " Oh, Mr.- Proctor ! " Katherine was on her 
 feet, regardless of slates or dignity, " I m so 
 glad ! I m so glad ! " 
 
 The man stepped over the sill into a new earth. 
 
 " So am I," he said blankly. Happiness does 
 not always give command of thought. 
 
 The girl drew back. " Look out for the slates ! " 
 She still breathed quickly, and her eyes were kin 
 dling. " I ve been planning all day how I could 
 reach you. I did n t want to alarm Olive. I 
 had n t heard you go by. And you came ! " 
 
 The man made his way around the slaty wreck 
 age, and took her hand. " Yes, I came." The 
 
DAY BY DAY 273 
 
 hand in his own was trembling, and the knuckles 
 of his free hand whitened. " Who frightened 
 you, Katherine ? " 
 
 It was not Katherine s hand alone that trem 
 bled now. She leaned on the desk behind her for 
 support. 
 
 " It s no use to say that I m not frightened, is 
 it ? " She met his eyes bravely. " But it was n t 
 for myself. It s about you. And what if you 
 had n t come ! " 
 
 " What if I had n t ! " The fervor of one re 
 prieved throbbed in the exclamation. " What can 
 I get for you ? " He drew her into the one chair. 
 " A drink of your own water ? H m ! I don t 
 like your dipper." He foraged in her lunch bas 
 ket until he found a cup, and stood over her while 
 she drank. "Now, Lady Schoolmistress," he drew 
 the recitation bench near her, " what are we going 
 to do about these slates ? " 
 
 " But don t you want to know what it s all 
 about?" 
 
 He laughed and bent toward her. " See if you 
 can hold that slate steadily while I count ten. 
 That s better but none too good." 
 
 " But I ve something " 
 
 " Oh, Lady, Lady ! " He sat, elbow on knee, a 
 picture of content, and gave his eyes holiday. 
 " What can you tell me that will mean more than 
 what I have this minute ? You re here alive ; 
 I m here alive. To-morrow s to-morrow." 
 
 Katherine s head went back with a sigh of satis 
 faction. 
 
274 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " See how yellow the sunshine looks on the 
 wall ! " she said absently. " I sit and watch it 
 sometimes till it brings back the old feeling, the 
 love of the woods and the sun. If I sit where I 
 can t see the window, I can forget. But" her 
 tone came back to its normal cheerfulness " the 
 equinoctial storms will be coming now. And when 
 Ferdinante " 
 
 " So it s Ferdinante ! " He had found one of 
 Katherine s gloves, and drew it slowly through his 
 fingers. " Is she going to play the Borgia and 
 what s my offense ? " 
 
 " Don t laugh ! I found her waiting for me this 
 morning. Think of her reaching here so early ! 
 She told me to tell you to be careful ; not to go 
 out alone at night. I Ve been here all day with 
 no way to send you word. I d made up my mind 
 to drive to Wilsonport to-night some way. I 
 was sitting thinking of it when you came. And 
 you re never careful ! Can t you go home ? " 
 
 " But why in the world did Ferdinante come to 
 you ? " The man did not intend to say the words 
 aloud. He was absorbed in his irritation that 
 Katherine should have been annoyed. 
 
 Katherine crimsoned, but she looked at him 
 proudly. " I think that it was because she knew 
 that I would be concerned about your danger," she 
 said simply, " and that I d contrive some way to 
 send you word. She may have been afraid to go 
 to you herself." 
 
 Mr. Proctor laid his hand upon the girl s for 
 the space of a second. " I m not quite a churl, 
 
DAY BY DAY 275 
 
 Miss Katherine. Of course I know why Ferdi- 
 nante came to you. She was searching for some 
 thing that she could do for you in return for what 
 you ve been to her ; so she manufactured a dan 
 ger to threaten your friend. But it s hard to see 
 you annoyed needlessly." 
 
 " But it s not a manufactured danger, Mr. Proc 
 tor ! I m sure it is n t. You must listen to it. 
 She would n t tell me anything definite. But she 
 said to be careful about going out at night. She 
 would n t tell me whom she was warning you 
 against but it s the warning itself that counts." 
 
 " It s Adrien, probably. I thought I saw him 
 on the road the other day. What a splendid child 
 of the woods and the wild spaces Ferdinante is ! " 
 The man s breath of admiration carried him to his 
 feet. " She does n t know how to stoop to a sub 
 terfuge even to shelter that rascal Adrien." 
 
 The cloud that Adrien s name could always 
 bring fell over Katherine. 
 
 " I asked you once," she said a little timidly, 
 " if I made a mistake in giving up Adrien s friend 
 ship. You did n t answer. I wonder if you d 
 mind answering now." 
 
 Mr. Proctor gave his absorbed attention to the 
 map-hung wall. This girl s unexpected and swift- 
 vanishing humilities always left him suspended 
 between his impulse to tease and his rush of long 
 ing to tell her that he loved her. The matter-of- 
 fact answer that he dragged from some underworld 
 of consciousness came slowly. 
 
 " I don t know. I m a negation about most 
 
276 THE LEGATEE 
 
 things now. But I know that you did the thing 
 that looked right the hard thing so I ve con 
 fidence that in the end it will work out as it should. 
 That s my anchor these days, Miss Katherine, 
 the knowledge that you and your father have kept 
 your belief in inherent goodness untouched. But 
 some of us have blundered with Adrien. There 
 must have been opportunity to reach him ; to show 
 him his fallacies ; to convince him that he was 
 right in the beginning that education was, after 
 all, a touchstone." 
 
 Katherine s eyes sparkled to a reminiscence. " I 
 heard you tell father, once, that you did n t be 
 lieve in education for the masses." 
 
 The man tasted his share of embarrassment ; 
 yet that was the least of the many inconsistencies 
 that Katherine undoubtedly had seen. 
 
 " Everything was abstract in those days," he 
 laughed. " Now it s vividly concrete. That s 
 the influence of the village as against the city. 
 But we 11 reach Adrien yet if we can find him." 
 
 " But you will be careful, Mr. Proctor ? You 11 
 promise to be careful ? " 
 
 He picked up her glove again. " Of course I 11 
 be careful. Am I not guardian ? Have I not a 
 ward ? A stubborn and rebellious ward that needs 
 my chastening care ? " 
 
 Katherine looked up with a new thought ; she 
 gave a little laugh of private understanding and 
 pleasure. 
 
 " You re Mr. Cabell s guardian, too," she said. 
 " Poor, overburdened man ! " 
 
DAY BY DAY 277 
 
 There was a moment s silence ; and in it Philip 
 stood beside them, summoned by his name. He 
 seemed a palpable presence, laughing as ever, as 
 sured and debonair. 
 
 Mr. Proctor s smiles died. The happy inconse 
 quence of the hour was over, and he turned away 
 with the feeling that it was late, and that he had 
 been living a foolish daydream. 
 
 Katherine rose and picked up her hat. There 
 was a barrier in her manner that irritated them 
 both. They remembered that outside lay a dusty 
 road, and that they were tired. 
 
 " Mr. Detiere seems to be trying to run both 
 mills," Katherine said, as they walked toward Birch 
 Creek. Her tone was a spiritless effort to hide 
 with a veneer of phrases her knowledge of the 
 sudden chill between them. 
 
 "You see Detiere?" 
 
 Katherine s chin lifted. " Frequently." 
 
 " Since you promised to stay on the highroad, 
 that means that he goes past the schoolhouse." 
 
 " It s a public thoroughfare," Katherine said 
 impassively. " Mr. Detiere is a great convenience 
 in maintaining discipline. He stops at the school- 
 house window sometimes, and after one look from 
 him the children don t move for an hour." 
 
 Mr. Proctor bit his lip. " It might be well if 
 you shared the children s prejudices. I wish that 
 you would not consider this as a personal matter 
 between you and me. You promised your father 
 to tell me if Detiere annoyed you." 
 
 The sudden flush in the girl s face was hostile. 
 
278 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " How little you understand ! " she cried. " Don t 
 you see that Louis Detiere is eaten up with pride 
 that he can carry on the work where George Cole 
 failed ? He owns us all Your mills, my school, 
 Birch Creek. Till this is over, he will keep sober, 
 and will follow your wishes to the division of a 
 hair. I did n t say that he spoke to me. I said 
 that I saw him. He does go by the schoolhouse, 
 and he looks in to see that all is well. He will 
 never speak to me. He has a code. But you 
 will never understand." 
 
 They had reached George Cole s cabin, and she 
 gave Mr. Proctor a long look as she opened the 
 door. That, with the briefest inclination, was her 
 only farewell. It may have been that the face 
 watching hers did not encourage civilities. The 
 two had forgotten the fiction of guardian and 
 ward. They were man and woman, and they were 
 bitterly angry. Yet neither could have told at 
 what. 
 
 As Mr. Proctor untied his horse, the smoke that 
 hung above the trees was beaten downward by 
 the wind till it stood like a wall between himself 
 and the spot where Katherine had looked good-by. 
 The sun was low, and the black woods were more 
 than ever dreary. And Philip was at Old Point 
 Comfort for a week ; his last letter had mentioned 
 yachting parties, and had used indifferently words 
 that had lost meaning in these grim surroundings. 
 Why did he not return to claim his own if his 
 it were ? Mr. Proctor s mouth grew resolute. He 
 would end this. He would write Philip to come 
 
 
DAY BY DAY 279 
 
 now, or not at all. For his own part, his endur 
 ance was at an end ; never again would he talk to 
 Katherine till he was free to ask a question and 
 be answered. 
 
 It was dark when he rode into Wilsonport, but 
 the straggling street was alight and astir. A bon 
 fire was blazing in the square before the church, 
 and its leaping light showed Paul Livingstone 
 preaching to an attentive group. Mr. Proctor 
 drew rein in the shadow and listened. He could 
 hear little, but the crouching figures of the lis 
 teners suggested that the message that they heard 
 was one of fear. 
 
 He rode on, his heart no lighter for the incident, 
 and Livingstone s voice, rising now, rang after 
 him, " The sun shall be turned into darkness, 
 and the moon into blood, before the great and 
 the terrible day of the Lord come. " As he lis 
 tened the moon pushed a blazing disk above the 
 line of the smoke-hung lake, and its track upon 
 the water stained the night with red. A group of 
 men took courage of the darkness, and cursed him 
 as he passed. And he had parted from Katherine 
 in anger. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE WAITING 
 
 " * There is a land of pure delight, 
 Where saints immortal reign, " 
 
 sang the people in the square. The last week of 
 September had come, and still there was no de 
 liverance. The smoke qloud, heavier every day, 
 pressed its black weight upon the village till 
 breathing was a pain. The lake, lashed by the 
 constant wind, rolled stormily in the semi-dark 
 ness ; steamers blew their whistles night and day 
 as they groped up and down the shore line. 
 
 Night after night the group that gathered 
 around Paul Livingstone swelled in size. The 
 schoolmaster had returned from his lonely days in 
 the woods, and he brought an assured message. 
 The day of the Lord s coming was upon them 
 " the end of the world ! " " the Day of Judg 
 ment ! " Every look at the relentless sky drove 
 the phrases nearer home. And if the fire was the 
 Lord s will, it was blasphemy to oppose it. Those 
 who believed, prayed and sang and waited, while 
 Paul Livingstone moved among them, assured and 
 calm. The visions of the forest were realities of 
 which he spoke with confidence. His work now 
 was to prepare his followers for that inevitable 
 
THE WAITING 281 
 
 day of which they had been told, "a day of dark 
 ness and of gloominess, a day of clouds and thick 
 darkness." The words were with him always, as 
 he pointed upwards. Could they doubt ? 
 
 There was little of terror in the faces of the 
 waiting crowd. They were not only awe-struck ; 
 they were tired. Life pressed heavily. They were 
 bewildered, rudderless ; they were numbed by the 
 smoke-filled air ; and Karen s voice invited them 
 to scenes the thought of which filled their smart 
 ing eyes with tears,. 
 
 " Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
 Stand dressed in living- green. " 
 
 " In living green." The words were balm. 
 
 In the mean time there was work to be done, 
 and none to do it. The lines in Mr. Proctor s 
 face were graving deep. The fire was spreading ; 
 how fast no one could tell. It crept, the men said, 
 under the ground, and ate into the heart of the 
 great trees, till, though sound to the eye, they fell 
 in blazing ruin. Birds dropped in the dooryards, 
 burned and strangled. There was none to tell how 
 far their flight had carried them. The men whom 
 Mr. Proctor had relied upon as fire guards were 
 growing exhausted. He could find no others. 
 
 Yet with each discouragement his responsibility 
 deepened. When this apathy should end, when 
 the rains should come what then ? If he lost 
 his timber, he could not give the men work. The 
 mill problem retreated. There had always been 
 logging and coopering to fall back upon. That 
 gone, what was before them ? 
 
282 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Not all of the village followed Livingstone s 
 lead, but even the skeptical were immovable when 
 asked to help. They might scorn the fear of 
 doomsday which held their companions, but the 
 irresponsibility which the thought bred was con 
 tagious, and they became openly and insanely 
 careless of the future. Xavier Lauzeone s way 
 was far from rose-lined ; his politic soul was torn 
 by much that passed under his roof. 
 
 There was no thought in Mr. Proctor s mind 
 now of sending for Philip. All personal desires 
 were pushed aside. Life was endurance and wait 
 ing. He went to Dr. Griggs at last, and asked for 
 help. 
 
 " Talk to the men," he said. " They ve been 
 your tools. And talk to Livingstone. Show him 
 the injustice of his teachings. I m not concerned 
 with his religious belief, but this fire is threaten 
 ing all of us. The men are drugged. You ve in 
 terests at stake. Wake them up ! Send them out 
 into the woods." 
 
 Dr. Griggs listened, with a shrug of the shoul 
 ders. It was the first time that he had talked 
 directly to Mr. Proctor, and he would not put the 
 opportunity by. 
 
 " We d have made a great team if you d come 
 to me earlier," he suggested. " Now it s too 
 late." 
 
 Mr. Proctor s impulse to turn his back was con 
 quered. 
 
 " You re shrewd enough to know that your 
 bread and butter are at stake," he said curtly. 
 
THE WAITING 283 
 
 " What s your answer ? Will you help me with 
 the men?" 
 
 The doctor s shoulders again cried their nega 
 tive. " I can t help you. I d stop this if I could. 
 But the men won t listen. Go to Mr. Ellis the 
 parson and Heinrich." 
 
 " No need to go to them. I d find them in the 
 swamps with their hands blistered." 
 
 And so the days passed ; not in monotony, but 
 in fevered happenings small in themselves, yet 
 barometers of the prevailing unrest. It was a 
 day of the unexpected. Yngve Torstenson rose 
 one night and confessed to the audience in the 
 square his share in the adventure upon the light 
 house trail, but even that story, new to some of 
 them, made little stir. An attempt upon one life 
 seemed trivial, now that all lives were in the bal 
 ance. Few paused to wonder that Mr. Proctor 
 had allowed the matter to slip by. " God is jeal 
 ous, and the Lord revengeth." What room had 
 their hearts for fear of human retributions ? 
 
 The evening of the 5th of October George Cole 
 drove to Mr. Proctor s door. His face spoke 
 calamity. 
 
 " What is it, Cole ? " Proctor turned from his 
 paper-strewn desk. " Have your men left you ? " 
 
 Cole nodded heavily ; his face looked dull and 
 set. " I ve four boys left. The last man went 
 to-day." 
 
 Proctor debated the matter in a moment s 
 silence. "Have the boys plough a wider fire 
 break," he said, as his shoulders squared. " Then 
 
284 THE LEGATEE 
 
 place them as guards for the mill. We 11 win 
 yet, Cole. Every day that we hold out means a 
 day nearer the rain. This panic of Livingstone s 
 will end with the first northeaster." 
 
 Cole walked to the window, and leaning his 
 head against the casement, looked over to the 
 square. "The men said what was the use of 
 working when the world was burning up." His 
 tone was that of monotonous acquiescence. 
 
 Proctor studied his superintendent s bent face. 
 " They re taking a drought rather seriously," 
 unconsciously he used the aggressively buoyant 
 manner that he would have employed with a 
 frightened child, " but this will be over in a few 
 days." 
 
 Cole shook his head moodily as he resumed his 
 study of the square, and Mr. Proctor checked the 
 further exhortation on his lips, and joined him at 
 the open window. 
 
 There were no bonfires in the square now. 
 They had not been needed for days, for the glow 
 that filled the heavens lit the earth with a blood- 
 tinted radiance. It was a picture to banish speech ; 
 even the lake, dull red and sullen, looked a thing 
 of horror. The night was unnaturally still, and 
 in the hush Paul Livingstone s voice reached them 
 in the awful warning of Zephaniah, 
 
 44 4 Neither their silver nor their gold shall be 
 able to deliver them in the day of the Lord s 
 wrath ; but the whole land shall be devoured by 
 the fire of his jealousy : for he shall make even a 
 speedy riddance of all them that dwell in the 
 land. " 
 
THE WAITING 285 
 
 The men at the window listened for a time in 
 silence, while the whistle of a smoke-bound steamer 
 droned accompaniment to their thought. Karen, 
 her white dress stained by the red of the sky, was 
 singing now, but there was nothing but terror in 
 the words. 
 
 " That awful day will surely come, 
 The appointed hour makes haste. " 
 
 "Do you believe it, Cole?" Mr. Proctor 
 turned at last. " Do you, too, think, What s the 
 use? " 
 
 Cole looked at him. "I believe it. But I ll 
 keep at the work." 
 
 For a moment Mr. Proctor knew the savor of 
 the dust of futile effort. " Why ? if this is the 
 end?" 
 
 " Because I promised you." Cole s face, still 
 gray, looked dogged with resolve. " That s all 
 that s left us now, to keep the promises we ve 
 made, and wait." 
 
 " And wait." Mr. Proctor murmured the words 
 as he turned to his calendar. " To-morrow is the 
 6th. Dr. Edmister won t reach here before the 
 15th, unless news of the fire brings him earlier. 
 Cole, I m going out to-morrow to bring Miss Kath- 
 erine in to the village. She 11 be safer here until 
 her father s return. Would n t it be well for your 
 wife to come with her ? If the men come to active 
 revolt, they 11 probably begin at Birch Creek." 
 
 Cole nodded understandingly. " I know. But 
 Olive won t come. I ve talked to her, but she 
 won t leave me. I m glad you re coming for 
 
286 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Katherine, though. There 11 be one less to worry 
 about, and I think that she 11 be glad to get away." 
 
 But that was a thought that Katherine laughed 
 to nothingness. Mr. Proctor drove directly to the 
 schoolhouse the next afternoon, so timing his ar 
 rival that he might find her alone, and he stated 
 his errand somewhat bluntly. The girl s confu 
 sion at sight of him wounded and confused him 
 in turn, and made him brusque. The memory of 
 their last stormy interview was keen. This playing 
 guardian was not easy work, and in his embarrass 
 ment he said as much. 
 
 The girl s lips lost a little color. " But why 
 make your responsibility so tragic ? " Her tone 
 was almost indolent. " Mr. Cole will take care of 
 me." 
 
 " But Mr. Cole wants you to go." 
 
 "Does he?" Her face looked suddenly wan. 
 " But Olive wants me here needs me," she said, 
 brightening. " And after all, why should I go ? " 
 
 " Why should you not go except that I ask it ? 
 Miss Katherine," the man took advantage of 
 his height, and looked down upon her with stern 
 assurance that became his steady eyes, " we are 
 talking at cross-purposes. You are on the defen 
 sive with me, as you always are of late. I don t 
 know why. It s an old feeling between us. But 
 with all your distrust of my motives, you have 
 given me a certain sort of confidence, and it was 
 the knowledge of this confidence that enabled your 
 father to leave you as he did." He had been form 
 ing his sentences with scholastic precision, to curb 
 
THE WAITING 287 
 
 the words of loving wrath that were near his heart 
 to say. Willful, thorn-set Katherine, so childishly 
 annoying, so stubbornly true ! The longing to 
 catch her in his arms, to scold her, to laugh at 
 her, to dominate her, gripped at his composure. 
 " Lady Katherine," - his voice was a confession, 
 "I beg you it is n t easy come with me." 
 
 The girl s lips tightened, then slipped from her 
 control, and quivered pitifully. The man s soul 
 was in the dust. He felt that he had trampled 
 upon her without mercy. Was it the thought of 
 her father that had broken the fine temper of her 
 self-command ? He turned away to let the situ 
 ation pass, and the girl set her teeth determinedly. 
 
 " I will go with you, Mr. Proctor," she said in a 
 moment, " since you think it best." 
 
 " Don t you think it best too ? " 
 
 " I don t wish to think so. I ought not to leave 
 Olive, and I particularly dislike to give up my 
 school. Those are my ( don ts. Will you tell me 
 why you think it best for me to go ? " 
 
 The " why " seemed insufficient, after all, and 
 he groped to find it. In Katherine s presence his 
 imaginings seemed vain. It may have been the 
 magazines upon her desk, with their suggestion of 
 the brisk common-sense world of affairs ; it may 
 have been the mounting courage in her eyes, but 
 there was that in the atmosphere which relieved 
 the tension of his feeling. A cluster of Olive s red 
 geraniums was tucked into the girl s belt, and the 
 bright blossoms seemed an expression of Kath 
 erine s self, a challenge to the stifling air. The 
 
288 THE LEGATEE 
 
 drought, with all its discomfort, seemed suddenly 
 an incident, a local happening. There was a 
 world outside pursuing its unchecked way, and the 
 thought of it belittled the importance of the meet 
 ings in the square. 
 
 " If there s trouble with the men," Katherine 
 was answering his vague objections, " I 11 be in the 
 way, I know. But so will Olive. We can take 
 the white horse, and drive into town at once. And 
 there s more than my interest in the* school at 
 stake. You are the leaven of sanity in Wilsonport. 
 You seem so methodical and composed that you 
 steady the people. And I m of a little use in 
 the same way here. The men have left the mill ; 
 every one is on edge. If I desert the school, it will 
 be one feather the more on the wrong side of the 
 balance. Can t you see ? " 
 
 Yes, he could see, clearly. He acknowledged 
 it to himself, with comradeship in her pride. But 
 as he looked at her, the feeling died. It was not 
 her part to stand alone, and he rebelled at her 
 sufficiency. If he had but the right 
 " Decide it for yourself, Miss Katherine." 
 The tone was not to be mistaken, and the girl 
 smiled, with a tremor which escaped the man s eye. 
 " Petruchio s Kate ? " she said a little wistfully. 
 " But really I ve nowhere to go " she hurried 
 over the admission. " Do you think we re in 
 danger from the fire ? " 
 
 An evasion would have served his purpose, but 
 he refused its shelter. " No danger, except from 
 the smoke. The smoke s worse here than in the 
 
THE WAITING 289 
 
 village. That s why I had Cole widen the fire 
 break. The potato field is guard enough so far as 
 the fire s concerned." 
 
 " The smoke is trying, of course ; your own eyes 
 are beginning to show it," - she gave a flitting 
 look, " but it is n t excuse for running away, is 
 it ? " She faced him with sudden mischief. " I m 
 talking to a man who is running his mills and 
 conducting his business as usual, while half of his 
 people are insane with fright, and the other half 
 are held only by his steadiness from riot or 
 worse. What can such a man say to a woman 
 who is trying to do her small part in her own 
 way?" 
 
 The man said nothing till he picked up his 
 hat. " He says that he is overruled by a woman s 
 sophistry." He held out his hand for good-by. 
 " He s not convinced, but silenced." He could not 
 keep his irrational content from his tone. When 
 the air cleared between them it was ea:Sy to be 
 happy ! 
 
 He was driving away when Katherine called 
 him. Chevalier was whimpering in her arms, and 
 she held him out with an apologetic smile. 
 
 " Can you take him to Bertha ? Ask Bertha 
 to keep him shut up, please, or he 11 try to come 
 back to me." 
 
 " But why?" The smile died from Mr. Proc 
 tor s face. " I 11 take him with pleasure, but 
 Katherine, you re afraid, after all. Come with 
 me. Come ! " 
 
 The girl lifted her head, and for a startled mo- 
 
290 THE LEGATEE 
 
 ment looked full in the man s eyes. The glance 
 robbed them both of composure. 
 
 " I can t ! " she breathed protestingly. " Don t 
 ask it ! And I m not afraid. Only, Chevalier is 
 all I have that is, I m his Providence, and 
 you don t mind ? " 
 
 The man took the dog. " I may keep him my 
 self?" 
 
 "Oh, will you? Think, Chevalier," she 
 covered the dog s appealing eyes with her palm, 
 " of all the chicken that Jessie will give you ! 
 Please hurry, Mr. Proctor." She had a whimsi 
 cal smile for her own weakness. " I ve never sent 
 Chevalier away before, and he won t understand. 
 We don t understand Providence, do we ? " The 
 dash of philosophy was a cover for the mist in her 
 eyes. 
 
 The man tucked the dog under the shadow of 
 his coat, and lifted the reins. Then he stretched 
 out a hand to the girl, and sought her eyes. " It s 
 very simple," he said insistently. " Put your foot 
 on the step, take your seat beside me, and I can 
 save you from discomfort and possible danger, 
 as you are saving Chevalier. Can t you bow to 
 Providence even if you don t understand it ? " 
 
 The girl shook her head. " It s only till next 
 Friday. Help me to save my foolish little vanity 
 till that time. You can t monopolize the pride of 
 this situation." 
 
 She watched the carriage till it was a blur of 
 dust. Was it imagination, or could she hear 
 Chevalier crying for her? The forest, which had 
 
THE WAITING 291 
 
 been her friend, looked sinister in the waning light, 
 its pillared vistas grim and murky ; and she went 
 back to the schoolhouse to escape the crushing 
 majesty of the out of doors. The loneliness of 
 Nature beat upon her spirit as never before, and 
 she sat for a long time, her head upon her hands, 
 learning a new lesson. Pride was a costly posses 
 sion, and it was not for women. Since the whole 
 loaf of life s happiness was denied her, she was a 
 spendthrift to throw away the crumbs. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE COMING 
 
 THE 8th of October dawned with a splendor of 
 coloring which made the arch of the smoke-filled 
 sky a roof of shifting opal. There was little wind, 
 and though smoke still hung above the woods, it 
 was not ribbed with glancing flame, as it had been 
 the day before. A chatter of bird life came from 
 the thickets. People remembered, as they had not 
 in weeks, that it was the Sabbath, and a day of 
 rest. 
 
 But the peace of the day was not for Birch 
 Creek. Detiere s men came back each week to 
 spend Sunday with their families, and this day 
 a flag-decked wagon had come with them from 
 Wilsonport. The crowd that filled the one low 
 browed saloon augured a quiet day for Xavier 
 Lauzeone. 
 
 Olive and Katherine sat, their thoughts for oc 
 cupation, waiting for nightfall. It was a tedious 
 day, gauged even by the standards of a time when 
 all the hours were long. 
 
 " Keep out of sight," Mr. Cole had advised, and 
 had followed his own warning. He could not 
 check the men ; he must refuse to see them. 
 
 The noise from the saloon subsided at last, and 
 
THE COMING 293 
 
 Katherine slipped out of the house for a breath of 
 freer air. She made her way through the newly 
 ploughed fire-break till she found a sheltering 
 stump that hid her from the cottage. Olive and 
 Mr. Cole would think her in her room ; she would 
 return before they missed her. 
 
 She sat, her chin upon her palm, and strove for 
 gladness. Joy and she had traveled thus far de 
 terminedly hand in hand through somewhat show 
 ery weather. Why should her grasp relax now 
 that the sunrise was upon her ? 
 
 For it was the sunrise. It could not be else, 
 this moment that was now hers. Her father was 
 coming in a week ; then they would take up their 
 life together. " We will go away for a time," said 
 his last letter. " You must see something of the 
 world." She had hungered for the world; and now 
 she was to see it. But to see it she must go away. 
 She bit her palm fiercely to subdue the pain that 
 choked her as she faced the thought. The physi 
 cal smart gave her power to curb her dreams, to 
 fix her thought upon the passing moment. 
 
 The moment now gave her the consciousness 
 that it was growing warmer. The sun was setting 
 in a mist of swimming vapor, and as she looked 
 down at the settlement it wavered in crimson light. 
 Answering color glowed in the growing darkness 
 of the forest ; in the hush which held the air the 
 world seemed waiting. Yet the wind had died 
 away. 
 
 The girl s breath tightened. The rock of sanity 
 of which she had boasted crumbled beneath her. 
 
294 THE LEGATEE 
 
 She had seen panic in others these last weeks, and 
 had marveled ; now its terrors clutched at her. 
 Every familiar outline was strange with menace. 
 She covered her eyes from the picture. 
 
 But with closed eyes came fresh terrors. The 
 breathless air held whisperings. To her diseased 
 fancy the forest rustled to hushed footsteps. Then, 
 of a sudden, fear grew concrete. All this might 
 not be fancy. There might be men in hiding. 
 Adrien, perhaps and if Adrien, why not others ? 
 Were they waiting for Mr. Proctor ? 
 
 The insanity of the moment claimed the thought 
 as certainty. Dread, which she had checked for 
 weeks, surged over her. Mr. Proctor was in dan 
 ger somewhere. She must go to him. 
 
 The madness of the impulse passed in time, and 
 she rose to go to the cottage. But the road to 
 Wilsonport beckoned. Mr. Proctor might be on 
 it even now, coming to her. She wanted him ; she 
 needed him ; he must know it. Unreasoning as 
 the thought was, it bent her steps. If she could go 
 to the bend of the road, she could see for a long 
 distance. It was dusky now, and she would not 
 be observed. One look would cure her of this 
 folly ; then she would go home. 
 
 She kept in the shelter of the timber till she 
 reached the road, then walked swiftly and silently. 
 The settlement was still hushed ; the lifelessness of 
 the air numbed her like a drug. 
 
 She had reached the bend when a rush of sound 
 deafened her. She looked back. For a long in 
 stant sound and sight intermingled. Forest and 
 
THE COMING 295 
 
 settlement were blackness, wind, and flame. Then 
 she fell, face downward, in the road. 
 
 The road, she knew indefinitely, after a time, 
 was her protection. She heard the grinding of 
 the tempest as it mowed the trees, but she lay un 
 touched. She found herself thinking calmly as 
 she lay. Fear had left her suddenly as it had 
 come. 
 
 Seconds passed, and the maddening noise sub 
 sided. She raised her head. Her eyes met black 
 ness, and the wind beat her back with twigs and 
 stones ; but the fury of the whirlwind was over, 
 and she stumbled to her feet. The darkness was 
 smothering ; she put out her hands to push it away. 
 The prayer for help which her heart framed was 
 an audible cry, 
 
 " Oh, for light ! " 
 
 The heavens answered. With a fresh roar the 
 wind leaped from the side, and the cross-currents 
 opened the wall of black. There was a blinding 
 glimpse of fallen trees on a flame-fringed back 
 ground ; then darkness. 
 
 As Katherine stood a moment in indecision, 
 hands touched her own. They were a child s 
 hands, and with a cry she drew them toward her. 
 It was Leopold Evard ; the family lived next to 
 the Cole cottage. 
 
 " Listen, Leopold," she wiped the tears from 
 the child s smoke-grimed face ; " you are all 
 right now. The danger is over. Never mind if 
 you can t see. This is nothing but smoke. Keep 
 walking, don t turn around, and you 11 be at 
 
296 THE LEGATEE 
 
 home before you know it. Then go to Mr. Cole. 
 Find him some way. Tell him I am all right. 
 That I " she framed the first deliberate untruth 
 of her life " am in good hands. He must not 
 look for me. Do you understand ? " 
 
 Leopold nodded. He was a quiet, intelligent 
 child. Katherine knew that her message was 
 safe. 
 
 She kissed the lad, and led him a few paces, 
 then dropped his hand and turned away. Her 
 face was set toward Wilsonport. 
 
 Her black and solitary way led now through a 
 land of evil dreams. Smoke blinded, breathless, 
 she went on and on, the dust beneath telling her 
 that her feet were on the highway. The woods by 
 the roadside were burning, she thought. She 
 could hear cries of animals, and the crash of 
 branches, but the rolling smoke-cloud wrapped her 
 steps in mystery. In time figures passed ; a deer, 
 screaming with terror, struck at her with uncer 
 tain hoofs ; she tripped and fell over some small 
 woodland creature ; but nothing slackened her 
 pace. If human beings were near, as she some 
 times thought, she could not help them, nor they 
 her, and she made no outcry. She had no strength 
 to squander. 
 
 Into this unreality came her name. " Katherine 
 Edmister ! Katherine Edmister ! " The call rang 
 clear and unhurried. 
 
 Katherine choked back her answering cry. The 
 voice was Louis Detiere s. In an instant he was 
 by her side. 
 
THE COMING 297 
 
 " So ? " He swung her to his shoulder in one 
 motion. " I knew I find you." 
 
 The girl s lips controlled her second cry. 
 " What do you mean ? " She wrenched herself 
 free, and slipped to the ground. " Where are you 
 going?" 
 
 The man threw back his head and laughed as if 
 to his great lungs the smoke-filled air was balm. 
 
 " I knew you," he chuckled. " I heard little 
 Evard tell Cole. I knew you lied." He slipped 
 an arm about her waist, and turned her toward 
 Birch Creek. " Come on." 
 
 Katherine stopped ; the opposition of her slen 
 der strength moved Detiere to fresh laughter. 
 
 " Spitfire ! " he said, his teeth gleaming. 
 
 They had drawn near the side of the road, and 
 the fire, licking at the bushes at their feet, lighted 
 their faces. It showed the girl s steady eyes. 
 
 " You are very strong, Louis Detiere," she said 
 quietly. " You can take me with you, and I can t 
 help myself. But don t make me go. I beg you. 
 I must go to Wilsonport." 
 
 Detiere swaggered. " You re afraid of me." 
 
 " Oh, it has nothing to do with you ! " Her com 
 posure broke suddenly. " Let me go. I m wast 
 ing time. I must find Mr. Proctor. My father 
 left me. Mr. Proctor thinks that I am in his care. 
 The whirlwind must have reached Wilsonport. 
 Mr. Proctor will know that the wind will spread 
 the fire, and will try to come to me. He will be 
 burned to death. It is my fault, for I was proud, 
 and would not go with him. Now let me go." 
 
298 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The man whistled. " You have the spunk ! " 
 His arm still pressed her toward Birch Creek. 
 
 " Look at me ! " Katherine commanded. Her 
 eyes claimed his through the flame-ribbed shadows. 
 Her tone was now as calm as if they stood together 
 on her own home trail upon a summer s day. 
 " You are a strong man ; you are never afraid. I 
 understand strength. My father taught me. I 
 am not afraid of you, for I have watched you. 
 You never drink when you are working, and you 
 keep a trust. Think ! If you were a girl, you 
 would do what I am doing now. Don t keep me. 
 Don t ! " 
 
 He hesitated. The flame at the girl s feet had 
 fastened on her skirt, and he stooped and beat 
 it out with his hands. Her eyes did not follow 
 his motion. She was still pleading. " Please let 
 me go." 
 
 Detiere peered at her closely. " You want to 
 burn up? " Then the kinship which the girl had 
 claimed seized him and conquered. " All right. 
 Come on. It will be hell, but come on." 
 
 It was the girl who stopped. " But you must n t 
 go!" 
 
 Flame answered her. One of the thousand 
 whirlwinds of the night was upon them ; the air 
 boiled with fire, and they covered their faces, and 
 fought for breath. Then wind and flame moved 
 on. 
 
 Detiere pushed his face near the girl s. " Will 
 you go now ? " A sudden insanity of daring crin- 
 
THE COMING 299 
 
 kled his face with laughter. " If you 11 go, I 11 
 go." 
 
 Katherine nodded. Her smoke-rasped lungs 
 were incapable of speech, but her look did not 
 flinch. He laughed again. " Come on." 
 
 Walking grew easier for a time. The wind, 
 fickle that night as the flame upon its wings, 
 veered to the south, and through the lifting smoke- 
 cloud they could see again the glow of the lurid 
 sky. 
 
 The man whose pace Katherine forced herself 
 to meet timed his step as to a kermess holiday. 
 The splendid freedom of the uncaged elements 
 was in his blood. What was fear to others was his 
 intoxication, a delirium of riotous adventure. He 
 boasted fluently, and with constant laughter. His 
 huge figure, colossal in the magnifying smoke, 
 seemed at times to Katherine but a fantasy of the 
 wild wind and flame. 
 
 He stopped at last and looked at her, his reck 
 less glance glorying in her courage. " There s 
 a cut-off," he said more sanely. " It saves two 
 miles." 
 
 " Let us take it." 
 
 Detiere sobered. " All the world is cowards 
 but you and me. If we die all right." He 
 turned to the flame-bound wall. " Take fast to my 
 coat. The trees will be fallen on the trail. We 
 have to climb." 
 
 Again Katherine halted. " Please go back. 
 Why two lives?" 
 
300 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. He laughed 
 again, but this time grimly, as he pulled her on. 
 
 " Proctor is n t afraid of the devil either," he 
 said, as he crashed into the forest. " He 11 be on 
 the cut-off." 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE RECOMPENSE 
 
 AT six o clock of Sunday the 8th of October 
 Mr. Proctor was leaving his house in Wilsonport. 
 
 He had reached his gate when he looked up. To 
 the south, the heavens, green-black, flame-belted, 
 dropped upon the forest. 
 
 He looked but once, then stopped to snatch a 
 blanket from the house. He knew, as he forged 
 through the village, that people were screaming 
 and pointing to the sky. The whirlwind had 
 passed to the east, but the flame serpents in its 
 train were crawling to the zenith. 
 
 He was beyond the schoolhouse on the Birch 
 Creek road, when he heard Ferdinante Lauzeone 
 call him. " Mr. Proctor ! " The thud of her run 
 ning feet came close behind him. 
 
 He would not stop, but she pushed her strength 
 and reached him. 
 
 " You go to Birch Creek? " 
 
 " Yes. What is it ? Every minute counts. 
 Quick!" 
 
 "On foot?" 
 
 " Yes. I could n t get a horse through." 
 
 " You know the cut-off ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
302 THE LEGATEE 
 
 " Adrien must show you. It *s two miles 
 shorter." 
 
 " Can you find Adrien ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 They were walking steadily. The man turned 
 his head now, and looked at Ferdinante for the 
 first time. She swung beside him, massive, leo 
 nine, her long stride taxing his strength. 
 
 " How did you know that I was going ? Did you 
 see me ? " 
 
 " I did n t see. But there was only one road. 
 I knew you would go when the wind came. I 
 knew you would get to Katherine Edmister." 
 
 He accepted her knowledge in silence, and 
 walked on. Nothing seemed strange nor worthy 
 of comment. 
 
 "Wait here for me," Ferdinante said after a 
 time. She disappeared with her words. Mr. 
 Proctor could hear her give a low bird call as she 
 followed some unseen path. 
 
 Even to his hot impatience she was back soon, 
 Adrien with her. The lad s sullen look showed no 
 recognition of Mr. Proctor, but he pushed by the 
 man and led the way. No explanation stirred Fer- 
 dinante s face. She followed, watchful; impassive. 
 
 The beginning of the cut-off lay in the path of 
 the whirlwind. As they left the road the smoke 
 grew thick and sulphurous. The trees which 
 barred their way were even then quivering from 
 their fall. 
 
 Adrien stopped and spoke for the first time. 
 " We 11 be choked. I won t go." 
 
THE RECOMPENSE 303 
 
 Ferdinante pushed him forward. " Go on." 
 
 " Stop ! " said Mr. Proctor. " Unless the trail 
 branches I can follow it alone. Is it a straight 
 path, Adrien ? " 
 
 The boy looked up through lowered brows. 
 " Yes." 
 
 Ferdinante laid a hand upon her brother s shoul 
 der. She towered a head above him, and her voice 
 was dominant. 
 
 " Tell the truth. You know what I do if you 
 lie. Is the trail straight ? " 
 
 The boy folded his arms. " No. It forks several 
 times in the first mile. After Brandt s clearing 
 it s a single trail." 
 
 Ferdinante herself led the way. " We go to 
 Brandt s." 
 
 They fought their way in silence for a time. 
 The fire, which seemed the spirit of the wind, was 
 with them now, only to vanish. It leaped to the 
 ground in front of them, its shivering flame catch 
 ing at the twigs and grass ; then, torn and harried 
 by the wind, it swept from sight over the treetops. 
 Still the three went on. Adrien s one rebellion 
 was his last. Some force outside of Mr. Proctor s 
 ken lay in Ferdinante s hold upon her brother s 
 arm. 
 
 Through all his terrible anxiety the man felt 
 compunction. He begged the girl to take her 
 brother and go back. She listened unmoved. 
 " After we get to Brandt s," was all that she would 
 say. 
 
 The trail grew more difficult as it led deeper 
 
304 THE LEGATEE 
 
 into the forest. The animals that had used it as 
 a runway during the happy summer disputed for 
 its possession now ; coals and charred twigs fell 
 about them. 
 
 Mr. Proctor took the blanket from his arm, and 
 threw it over Ferdinante. 
 
 She looked at it. " You brought it for Kath- 
 erine Edmister ? " 
 
 "I Yes." 
 
 " Keep it." She crowded it back into his hands 
 with unhurried disdain. " I don t want it. Every 
 body does things for her." 
 
 " Why are you doing this for her, Ferdinante ? " 
 Words were precious, but the man was reckless of 
 them. " Why go through this misery for a girl 
 you speak of in that tone ? " 
 
 Ferdinante looked at him. Her mane of hair 
 was loose upon her shoulders, and she looked out 
 from it, regnant, wonderful. Framed by the flame- 
 lighted forest she towered above her cowering 
 brother like impassive Fate. 
 
 "Because Adrien must." She stopped and 
 spoke with deliberation, as if the time for expla 
 nation were come. " Katherine Edmister does n t 
 need me to like her. I was nobody. I never had 
 a chance. But she saved Adrien. He went by 
 her and stayed away from his church. He would 
 have burned in hell. But she sent him away. 
 He must do this. It is right. He must go to 
 Brandt s." 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE MEASURE 
 
 BRANDT S clearing passed, Mr. Proctor went 
 on alone. The trail was well defined. He could 
 push his endurance to its limit. 
 
 At first the sight of two dim figures stumbling 
 toward him meant nothing ; then the woman raised 
 her head. 
 
 " Katherine ! Katherine ! " He threw Detiere 
 aside and had her in his arms. " Katherine ! " 
 
 He did not stop to question the miracle, or 
 answer the girl s soft cry. He wrapped her in the 
 blanket and turned to Detiere. 
 
 " We re near Brandt s clearing. Follow me." 
 
 A man, running blindly from a side path, stumbled 
 against them. He was whimpering and sobbing. 
 
 " Brandt s ! " He caught Detiere by the sleeve. 
 " Take me to Brandt s." 
 
 "So? My little friend, Pierre Gigot!" De 
 tiere turned the man around, and squandered 
 breath in laughter. " Last week you say you lead 
 Proctor by the nose. Now he lead you. See ? " 
 
 " Don t play with your strength, Detiere," Mr. 
 Proctor took breath to say. " The clearing may 
 not save us." 
 
 The clearing was before them in a moment. 
 
306 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The smoke-cloud, lighter in the freer air, showed 
 moving figures, and the night was torn with human 
 cries. Bright coals were falling in the open field. 
 
 The men s eyes sought each other. 
 
 "It won t do, Detiere." Mr. Proctor drew 
 Katherine closer. " We must find higher ground." 
 
 The people huddled in the centre of the field 
 were from many scattered farms. They gave no 
 heed to the trio that approached them. Moaning 
 and crying, no misery could move them but their 
 own. 
 
 The Katherine that Detiere said could not know 
 fear found herself trembling. She had drawn 
 herself from Mr. Proctor s arm to save him from 
 her weight, but her look crept to him for refuge. 
 No terror of the blazing woods had beaten down 
 her courage as did this nakedness of human fear. 
 
 Mr. Proctor was begging the people to listen. 
 Speech was agony, but he did not spare it. 
 
 " It s gas that s burning, and it keeps to the low 
 ground. You 11 be smothered here or worse 
 before the night s over. Better to die quickly in 
 the woods. Pine Knob may save us. I know the 
 way." 
 
 The people did not even lift their heads. A 
 woman laughed foolishly, and played with her 
 bright beads. " Pretty ! " she gurgled. 
 
 " Pouf ! " said Detiere. He had been pleading 
 in Belgian with equal unsuccess. " Take her off, 
 Proctor. I 11 drive these pigs." He took his 
 suggestively well-polished sheath knife and flashed 
 it before them. " But take the girl away." 
 
THE MEASURE 307 
 
 Proctor bent to Katherine. " Can you do it ? " 
 He had not spoken to her before since his first 
 cry, but his hand had not left hers. 
 
 " Yes," she looked up steadily, though her voice 
 was faint, "and we must go. We hinder him. 
 He can drive the people if he is alone." 
 
 The man suddenly caught her to him. He was 
 unconscious of the motion. " It will be torture in 
 the woods, Katherine." He shook with the an 
 guish of the decision that he must make for her. 
 " But it may save us. It s death here." 
 
 She smiled up at him and brushed at a coal 
 that had fallen upon his sleeve. " Where you 
 think best." 
 
 " She 11 do it," Detiere interposed. " Nobody 
 is like her." 
 
 Something in the tone stayed Proctor s eyes. A 
 thought was born in all the storm and horror. 
 
 " There is another, Detiere Ferdinante Lau- 
 zeone. She came with me to-night. Drove Adrien 
 before her, and made him show me the trail." 
 
 The Belgian swore softly and fluently. 
 " Where is she ? " 
 
 " She went back with Adrien. They took the 
 cut-off to Wilsonport." 
 
 Detiere was prodding at the men. " I 11 drive 
 my pigs that way. Take your girl off." His 
 voice was electric as he turned to Proctor. " I go 
 on the cut-off." 
 
 The plunge into the furnace of the forest showed 
 Mr. Proctor that the delay in the clearing had 
 been costly. More than gas was burning now. 
 
308 THE LEGATEE 
 
 The ground was covered with blazing twigs. The 
 man drew the corners of the blanket under his 
 arm and half dragged, half carried, Katherine 
 with him. 
 
 He knew that she was trying to save him what 
 she could, but with every step her weight grew 
 more inert. He stopped at last, and held the 
 blanket as a screen above her. 
 
 44 We 11 make it yet. I ve seen a surveyor s 
 map. Pine Knob is near the clearing on this side. 
 Look at me, Katherine ! " 
 
 She met his cry with an effort for a smile, but 
 she could not answer. With the first groan that 
 the night had drawn from him, he wrapped her 
 closely, took her in his arms, and staggered on. 
 
 The fire was everywhere about him now, trickish 
 and elfin. It had a thousand sports and fantasies. 
 It throttled him and beat him to the earth, then 
 leaped away to hold a torch for his bleeding pro 
 gress. Now it closed round him in a death-em 
 bracing wall ; now left an open track that promised 
 safety. There was no reassurance in its lightness. 
 It was the frolic of the fiends of torment, and the 
 horror of it drove men mad. 
 
 What came from that time on, he could not tell. 
 He fought the demons of the night and conquered, 
 but how, he did not know. His eyes seemed 
 dancing balls of light, and his mind wandered 
 with them, but his feet, sensitive to each incline, 
 found their way upward. The trees at last ceased 
 whipping him with fiery brands. He had reached 
 the foot of the Pine Knob opening. 
 
THE MEASURE 309 
 
 But this was not the end. Pine Knob was 
 steep, and the way rough. Could he climb it? 
 The stir in his arms, that told him Katherine was 
 living, was his answer. 
 
 He fell at times, beaten by what seemed death, 
 but each fall stiffened the tried metal of his will, 
 and the end came. His feet stopped climbing, 
 and his failing sight showed him an open field. 
 What reason had called madness had been done. 
 This was Pine Knob. 
 
 How long he lay dazed he did not know. The 
 higher air, comparatively smoke free, roused him 
 at last, and he stumbled to his feet. Katherine 
 was unconscious, but her wavering breath calmed 
 his sick fear. 
 
 He turned from her to look below them. The 
 knob overlooked the forest, and the man who had 
 thought that his mind no longer knew surprise, 
 dropped to his knees. 
 
 Awe, pity, racking sorrow, anxiety for one whom 
 he held dear, dread, hopelessness, and torture, 
 all had been his since the last setting of the sun. 
 But never terror ; that reached him only as he 
 looked on the ruin of what had been his world. 
 
 East, west, north, south far as the eye could 
 register destruction met him. The fire was 
 now no teasing demon, torturing, then sparing, 
 that it might torture more. It moved in bands 
 like a deploying army. Beautiful, remorseless, 
 calm with the loneliness of death, it advanced with 
 battlemented front, and the forest crumpled to a 
 writhing pot of flame. 
 
310 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Here the fire wall moved slowly, with implac 
 able majesty of progress ; here it ran more swiftly 
 than the thought that followed it, riding the wind 
 in serpenting banners that twisted toward the stars. 
 But everywhere it moved. On on Where 
 would it end? Hundreds of miles of dry and 
 close-packed timber lay waiting for its touch. 
 And the homes and villages between ? 
 
 Terror passed slowly with the man, to merge into 
 dread wonder. Katherine safe from this and 
 he beside her ! He turned to watch her face for 
 reassurance, and trembled now as he had failed to 
 do when death had grappled with him for her 
 hand. A few minutes more, and he could not 
 have saved her. They had been just in time. 
 
 But were they, after all, in time? The doubt 
 grew grew with the moments till, full-fledged 
 and conquering, it strangled hope. God coveted 
 the living world that night man bird and 
 beast. There was no ark of refuge in this sea of 
 flame. The island where they lay was so far safe, 
 but around them rolled a fast encroaching tide ; 
 its plume-crested billows were near them even now. 
 
 The man, who watched approach him the death 
 that he had fought for hours, lay wrapped in 
 peace. Death had no weapons. Majestic, deso 
 late, it beckoned ; it looked a respite. Even love 
 was dwarfed. He had done what he could, and 
 he had failed failed in this, as he had failed in 
 life. Death would bring the rest for which his 
 torn and aching spirit cried. 
 
 The clarity of mind that comes after long ill- 
 
THE MEASURE 311 
 
 ness to the dying comforted him now. He 
 thought of what this sea below him covered. 
 What love, what crime, what happiness, what sin 
 all wiped away. The frenzied beings whom he 
 had seen that night all silent. They, with what 
 uncounted throngs of souls, were at this moment 
 meeting the mystery of the after life. What 
 would they find ? And he ? 
 
 How trivial it all looked now, the strife that 
 he had thought a tragedy the day before the 
 intrigues his vain regrets the petty strivings ! 
 Yet he would not belittle it; it had been life. 
 And it was over. Master and servant, they were 
 going now the same old road. Would the 
 myriad feet that had gone before them have 
 beaten down the thorns ? 
 
 Beautiful, invincible, the fire wall moved on. 
 
 Yet with it all, with all the fact that he had 
 failed, and that his penance came too late, was he 
 not, even now, most blessed ? For Katherine had 
 come to him the Katherine he loved. How, or 
 why, he now could never know. But the fact was 
 his. In stress that broke men s reason, she had 
 come to him. 
 
 Flying battalions of the flame passed over him ; 
 each step was nearer. 
 
 Why not tell her his story. It had lain long 
 near his heart to say ! He took her in his arms, 
 and let the words that he had smothered for a 
 year crowd on his lips. His strength was failing, 
 but he husbanded the wreck of it with care. He 
 would complete his tale. 
 
312 THE LEGATEE 
 
 He knew at last that he should fail to hear her, 
 even should she speak. The pit below him showed 
 the outlines of his childhood s home. He knew 
 that was the end. 
 
 He gathered his endurance for the one duty 
 that remained him to wrap her yet more closely. 
 Flames were about him now, and he begged of 
 them to spare her face. Then, hiding his own 
 face close to hers, he closed his eyes. Hje was 
 ready for the morning that should come. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE PKOMISE OF THE COVENANT 
 
 AFTER oblivion, instinct came to show him that 
 his arms were empty. He groped to find his bur 
 den ; he found himself, instead, drawn back by 
 hands that met his own. 
 
 "Hush!" Katherine crooned. "Lie still a 
 little longer." 
 
 Katherine s voice ! His arms went out, as they 
 had done many times the night before, and claimed 
 her. " It s you, Katherine ? Are you much hurt ? 
 I can t see. Tell me, are you much did the 
 fire" 
 
 "I m almost unhurt. It s you." A sob 
 which she could not suppress shook them both as 
 he held her closely. 
 
 " I don t quite understand. But your voice 
 Somehow I can t see. It is n t daylight. Or 
 am I blind?" 
 
 " No, no, you can t be blind ! " The hands that 
 touched his face were tear wet. " Your face is 
 swollen. It s that and the smoke. It s past 
 sunrise, I think, though it s not very light. It s 
 cloudy." 
 
 " But the fire ? " 
 
 "It s over. The ground is smouldering, but 
 
314 THE LEGATEE 
 
 there s no flame below us. I think that very little 
 of the fire reached us here." 
 
 He released her slowly, and sat in silence. His 
 mind could hold but the thought that Katherine 
 was alive ; he must prick his brain to more. 
 
 " Katherine, I must " 
 
 " Is n t it 4 we must ? " A hand slipped into his. 
 
 "I Katherine!" 
 
 "Oh," the girl, who had crept back to his 
 arms, trembled with sudden sobs, " did you 
 mean it all ? " she asked brokenly. " All that you 
 told me last night your loneliness your long 
 ing for me ? And you seemed so indifferent. 
 If I could have known ! " 
 
 His grip upon her arm brought tears. "You 
 heard me ? " 
 
 " I could n t answer. I was Don t, don t ! 
 I m all right now. Oh, if I d had more strength 
 I could have saved your eyes ! " 
 
 " But you heard me. I m waiting. Be mer 
 ciful, and answer. I can t see your face." 
 
 The face that he could not see turned to his 
 shoulder ; the look that he was giving her she could 
 not meet, even though his eyes were sightless. He 
 did not need an answer. 
 
 Yet he demanded more. He was a man and 
 helpless. 
 
 " But are you sure ? Katherine, this is n t to 
 help me through ? " 
 
 She slipped from him in a flare of indignation. 
 " Could I have come to you as I did now even 
 to have saved both our lives? How can you! 
 
THE PROMISE OF THE COVENANT 315 
 
 And you must n t think " Then his face con 
 quered. "Oh, do you care like that! I I m 
 afraid that I care even more." 
 
 Yet it was not a time for caresses, and they did 
 not need them. They had stood with Death, and 
 even now they dropped his hand-clasp with mis 
 giving. His touch did not mean separation ; they 
 would go on together. 
 
 Yet with the gravity that wrapped them both, 
 came flashes of sudden joy that they could not 
 withstand. Philip s ghost stood with them once 
 again, but now his look was gracious. 
 
 "Yet I promised," said the man. He never 
 spoke of that again, but the thought died hard. 
 That was the price that he paid the aloe that 
 love mixes always with her sweet. 
 
 They made no plans. If they could reach the 
 road, they might find rescue, should any be liv 
 ing in this world of doom ; but what had been the 
 forest lay hideous in smoke, and they were parched 
 and crippled. 
 
 They had lain silent for a time, content to let 
 the fact that they were side by side speak for 
 them, when Katherine started with a cry. 
 
 " A drop of rain ! " The words sounded like 
 the wandering of madness. 
 
 But it was true. The miracle denied for weary 
 months came now as softly as if it fell on fields of 
 waving grain. From out a sky of even gray it 
 dropped in slant lines on the hissing earth. This 
 was no summer shower. The redemption of the 
 promise of the covenant had come. 
 
316 THE LEGATEE 
 
 They caught the blessed drops and drank new 
 life. Katherine tore her clothing into bandages, 
 and bound them, water-soaked, upon the man s hot 
 eyes. Then, hand in hand, they began their jour 
 ney. Their fight for life showed promise now, but 
 it was far from won. 
 
 No horror of the night had prepared them fully 
 for what they were to meet. There was little tim 
 ber standing, and the ground was piled high with 
 logs logs that crumbled under their feet, to show 
 the red of furnace fires. All life but theirs seemed 
 stilled. Men and animals had sought the low land 
 by the streams, where the foul gas meant death ; 
 and when after a time the wanderers reached the 
 road, the apathy of their own approaching end 
 had fallen on them. The steady rain, so grateful 
 at the first, was numbing, and their chilled frames 
 lost the strength to nourish hope. Yet they were 
 together. If they were found in life or death, 
 their faces would show joy. 
 
 The shouts that came to them at last seemed 
 from another world, but life sent up an answering 
 pulse, and they gathered forces for a cry. Paul 
 Livingstone answered. He came down the rain- 
 sodden, steaming road, leading a mule among the 
 fallen timber ; the cart that rattled after carried 
 food and blankets. 
 
 He stared as if at spectres, then fell upon his 
 knees. 
 
 "Two alive!" he cried. "Thank thee for 
 them, O Father, and help me to find more ! " 
 
 The others found their knees for that last cry. 
 
THE PROMISE OF THE COVENANT 317 
 
 These three together on their knees at last, the 
 horror of the woods about them ! The silence 
 lasted but a moment. 
 
 " What news, Livingstone ? I know your voice. 
 Quick, man ! Remember, I can t see ! " 
 
 " Some reached town. You re all I ve found 
 out here. Look out she s falling ! " 
 
 Mr. Proctor tore the wrappings from his eyes, 
 and strained for sight. He could see a little. He 
 gave himself a moment to hold Katherine close and 
 make her presence sure. " Tell me more ! " He 
 laid the girl in the cart among the blankets as he 
 spoke. " Quick, Livingstone ! " 
 
 " It s what you see north, south. The land s 
 wiped out." 
 
 " But Wilsonport ? " 
 
 " Your mill s burned." 
 
 " Yes, yes. But the people." 
 
 " Safe. We went into the lake." 
 
 " What s being done ? There may be others 
 alive in the woods." 
 
 " There are two teams behind me. The bod 
 ies " 
 
 " Hush ! She may hear. Take her back, Liv 
 ingstone. She s light, and you can carry her. 
 I 11 take the mule to Birch Creek. But I can t 
 see ! " 
 
 The schoolmaster scowled. " Go back yourself. 
 You can t take my chance away from me. I must 
 go on. I am the wickedest of men. I tell you 
 that the land has been wiped out. I told the peo 
 ple that it was the Day of Judgment. If it had 
 
318 THE LEGATEE 
 
 not been for me, they might have fought the fire. 
 If I can save some lives, I can die better." 
 " No army of men could have fought this fire." 
 Mr. Proctor held himself upright by the wheels 
 of the cart. " You can t die nor will I. There s 
 work for us. We ve both made mistakes. But 
 this is a reprieve. Our work has just begun." 
 
 " But this is ruin ! " 
 
 " It is God s ruin," said the other man. " He 
 needs " His words were failing. 
 
 Livingstone helped him into the cart, and 
 turned the mule toward Wilsonport. 
 
 " And you believe that we have another 
 chance ? " Livingstone asked. He looked at Mr. 
 Proctor s face unbitter and serene ; his own took 
 new resolve. " God help us both. I 11 try." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 STEWAKDS OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 THE cart that jolted into Wilsonport brought 
 two silent bodies. But youth is strong ; Mr. 
 Proctor and Katherine dragged themselves to life, 
 and called for work to* do. 
 
 It was the doctor s face that answered them 
 Katherine s father. The tug that brought him in 
 the night seemed only then a miracle. Later they 
 knew that all the steam craft of the upper lake 
 had plied the work of rescue. 
 
 There was no time for tears or explanations in 
 that meeting. Each breath might mean the saving 
 of a life. The doctor s heart, with all its anguish 
 of pity, held thanksgiving. He had come in time. 
 His defection had not cost lives the lives of his 
 people. His hands swift skill meant life to those 
 he loved. He thanked God humbly. 
 
 The news came fast not all of horror. Some 
 heights of human sacrifice were reached that night 
 that held the hush of Heaven. But the roll call 
 of the dead grew till it dulled all hearing. 
 
 Birch Creek the name is never mentioned 
 now ; for there are still lips left to whiten at the 
 sound. The rescuing party made their way there 
 first, but they found no survivors ; and when they 
 
320 THE LEGATEE 
 
 looked among the dead, they knew that this was 
 mercy. George Cole s face, hidden in the saw 
 dust, was untouched, and it held comfort. His 
 Maker had not failed him at the end. 
 
 But life could be lived again, and as knowledge 
 of the majesty of the destruction grew as the 
 far-spread counties of the Northland sent their 
 tale came unexpected healing. The world that 
 seemed so far away that outside world, remote 
 and unregarded stopped to hold out arms of 
 help and pity. Brotherhood grew a near and holy 
 name when every day brought succor. 
 
 Even smiles grew possible and precious. 
 Courage, with sweetness and laughter and a refusal 
 to look backward, these were the weapons for 
 the day. To all who had looked as these people 
 had done into the mysteries that hedge the con 
 fines of God s world, life could not be the same. 
 It must be richer even if more chastened. Char 
 acter might not be created, but it was stripped to 
 its elements. 
 
 " How we like to see our estimates justified, 
 Proctor," Dr. Edmister mused, with his old toler 
 ant smile. " Livingstone is a distinct gratification 
 to my vanity these days." 
 
 Mr. Proctor stopped. He was unpacking the 
 boxes that the world had sent, while Dr. Edmister 
 itemized their contents. " Livingstone tells me 
 that Heinrich understands brick-laying," he said, 
 with frowning absorption. "If the material for 
 the smokestack comes to-morrow, we can begin 
 sawing by Friday." 
 
STEWARDS OF THE MYSTERIES 321 
 
 The friends did not smile at the transition of 
 thought. It was of such varying threads that life 
 now was made. 
 
 There was work for all. Some of the timber 
 could be used if sawed at once, and logging was 
 pushed in every hour of daylight. The warped 
 machinery of the mill was to be replaced, new 
 homes built. The hours were too short. What 
 ever the sorrow, there grew in all minds the under 
 lying content of fruitful labor. 
 
 And it was united labor. 
 
 " I heard Yngve lecturing Mr. Livingstone and 
 Karen last night," Katherine said one day. " I 
 could have thought that it was you, Mr. Kobert 
 Proctor, tone and precept. Fellowship ! Com 
 munity of interest ! You ve been proselyting." 
 
 " Yngve s still a mirror." The man s eyes went 
 to the girl s in happy understanding. " The sky 
 has changed and he reflects it. That s all." 
 
 Yes, the sky had changed. The fellowship that 
 Mr. Proctor had striven for somewhat consciously 
 had come without his knowledge. He had not 
 time now to recognize or classify his new relation 
 to his world ; he felt, however, that he was work 
 ing with his friends. 
 
 But the doctor, looking on, smiled tenderly. He 
 knew it was not the tragedy which they had all 
 been through that had wrought this new demo 
 cracy. The fire had wiped the slate clean for new 
 deeds, but with all its meaning and majesty it was, 
 after all, only an accident ; the transforming forces 
 for this regeneration had been born before. 
 
322 THE LEGATEE 
 
 ture, the doctor meditated, does not create new life 
 even by cataclysm ; she unfolds what was there. 
 The trust and respect now given Mr. Proctor were 
 not a miraculous flowering. The seeds had been 
 sown during the cruel summer when there had been 
 none in the village to call him friend. 
 
 Detiere shrugged his huge shoulders at the 
 change. " I knew what the men were going to 
 do if the fire had n t come. The day of the fire I 
 had them at Birch Creek. They was drunk 
 very drunk. They told " But his story, begun 
 in joyous complacence, ended there. After all, the 
 men had been his comrades. The past was can 
 celed. Even to his mind, only the future was of 
 moment now. 
 
 Detiere was a hero and accepted the distinc 
 tion blandly. It would be long before the tale of 
 his entry into Wilsonport that night could be told 
 calmly. Burned and bleeding, he had driven his 
 cowering band before him out of the flame-clouds, 
 urging them with knife and jest till they reached 
 safety. 
 
 Dr. Edmister heard the story, with lips hard set 
 not to show their trembling. 
 
 " Spectacular to the last, confound him ! " he 
 grumbled. " The worst of it is, that I ve been 
 wrong about him, and have got to tell him so." 
 
 Detiere met the doctor s proffered hand with 
 perfect comprehension. 
 
 " Too bad you was away," he said. " You would 
 have done it too. We are alike, you and I." 
 
 The doctor looked the Belgian over with con- 
 
STEWARDS OF THE MYSTERIES 323 
 
 sideration a look which he forced the man s bold 
 eyes to meet. 
 
 "No, Detiere," he said slowly. "You are a 
 brave man. Here is my hand. But we are not 
 alike. I do not get drunk, and I have all my life 
 been true to one woman." 
 
 Detiere s complacence ebbed. " But that is the 
 way I used to be," he protested almost nervously. 
 " I am not like that now since the fire. I in to 
 have charge of Proctor s mill. Then, when Fer- 
 dinante " 
 
 " I see. You re not half worth her, Detiere, 
 but I ve hope that you 11 make her happy. She s 
 had little enough. And she needs your strength." 
 
 " But she is braver than a man." The lines in 
 Detiere s face had learned a certain softness. " I 
 found her that night on the cut-off. Adrien had 
 left her, and she wanted to die. But when I came, 
 there was people to save, so she came with me. 
 And now she makes me wait because Adrien is 
 dead." 
 
 " Have patience," the doctor sighed. " She is a 
 thousand times worth it. Leave her to Katherine 
 for a while." 
 
 Many things were left to Katherine these days 
 so many, her lover complained? that she was at 
 all Wilsonport s service save his own. 
 
 She eyed him, after such remarks, over the barri 
 cade of a chair back, and her mouth had new curves. 
 Had he once said that there were three Katherines ? 
 There were a hundred now, and each one demanded 
 that he win her separately and ii* turn. 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY ) 
 
 o, J 
 
324 THE LEGATEE 
 
 Yet he had moments all his own. One of them 
 came one afternoon as they sat together on the 
 beach. Indian summer breathed sorcery in the air, 
 and the October light turned the lake to a quiver 
 of rose and pearl. The scarred forest lay behind 
 them, out of sight and thought ; before, were only 
 the mystery of the silent water and the spreading 
 vistas of the sky. 
 
 "It s going to your world, Katherine," Mr. 
 Proctor said, as they watched a ship sink into the 
 silver haze. " The world that is n t to be yours, 
 after all. That hurts sometimes. I had hoped to 
 give you more. It s a poor marriage." 
 
 Katherine covered her eyes. " Is it a poor 
 marriage," she breathed, "when one wakes every 
 morning to say, To-day I can stand near him, 
 watch him at his work, help him a very 
 little "- 
 
 He had her hand in his, and the clasp that he 
 gave it answered her. Yet he would not be stilled. 
 
 " Think what it means. You wanted life. That 
 was your pot of gold. And this means self-denial, 
 work, and care." 
 
 The lengthening shadows shielded Katherine 
 as she crept nearer. 
 
 " Add love why, that is life," she said. 
 
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