FOUR,* ROADS 
 
 MAUD-WILDER-GOODWIN
 
 FOUR ROADS TO 
 PARADISE
 
 " 'GIVE YOU BACK MY MYSTEKIOUS LETTER? OH, IMPOSSIBLE!' "
 
 FOUR ROADS 
 TO PARADISE 
 
 BY 
 
 MAUD WILDER GOODWIN 
 
 Aotkar of "Sir Chrirtopher," " Ffit," " Wfeite 
 ," "The Head of a Hundred," etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY ARTHUR I. KELLER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1903, 1904, by 
 THE CENTURY Co. 
 
 Publiibed April, 1904 
 
 Reprinted June, 1904, July, 1904, 
 August, 1904, October, 1904
 
 TO 
 
 F. W.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 i A MODERN KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL . . 3 
 
 n THE FOUR ROADS 17 
 
 in ANNE BLYTHE 31 
 
 IT THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM .... 50 
 
 r OUTWARD BOUND 65 
 
 n A TRUST 83 
 
 TII MAXWELL NEWTON 103 
 
 mi THREE LETTERS 122 
 
 ix UP AT THE VILLA 137 
 
 x IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS . . . .154 
 
 xi FINE ARTS 176 
 
 xii "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" . . . .196 
 
 xiii THE COMING SHADOW 217 
 
 xrr "ONE DESTROYED THE YOUNG PLANT* " 232 
 
 XT ON THE TERRACE 247 
 
 XTI AT SANTA CROCE 262 
 
 XTII How IT HAPPENED 277 
 
 XTIII WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 291 
 
 xix His HEART'S DESIRE 307 
 
 xx THI MOTING FINGER 324 
 
 xxi IL PARADISINO 337 
 
 K
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PACK 
 
 " Give you back my mysterious letter ? Oh, im- 
 possible ! " Frontispiece 
 
 " Yes, yes," Walford answered, " I do see. I 
 
 understand perfectly " 39 
 
 " Anne," broke in the Bishop's voice, " I want 
 
 you to know Lady Hawtree Campbell" . . 77 
 
 " No ! " thundered Yates, bringing his hand down 
 
 hard 173 
 
 " Would you count it presumption if I thrust my 
 
 life-problem upon you ?" 21 1 
 
 " We will be sorry together " 333
 
 FOUR ROADS TO 
 PARADISE
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 " Four men," says the Talmud, " en- 
 tered paradise : one beheld and died, one 
 lost his senses, one destroyed the young 
 plants, one only entered in peace."
 
 FOUR ROADS TO 
 PARADISE 
 
 A MODERN KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL 
 
 " The way is long, my children, long and rough, 
 The moon are dreary, and the woods are dark ; 
 But he that creeps from cradle on to grave, 
 Unskilled sare in the velvet course of fortune, 
 Hath misted the discipline of noble hearts." 
 
 "A GENTLEMAN to see me ? A gentleman, 
 JT\. did you say, Parkins *? " 
 
 " Y-yes, sir. That is, he looked to be one 
 of the clergy, I think, sir." 
 
 " Did he give you his name ? " 
 
 " No, sir. He said you 'd not know him." 
 
 " Show him up." 
 
 The black-beetle butler closed the door, and 
 the Bishop reluctantly pushed aside a pile of 
 manuscript on which he had been working. It 
 was irritating to be interrupted at the climax of 
 a peroration ; but the thread of continuance once
 
 4 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 broken, there was no use in resuming work till 
 the interruption was disposed of finally. There- 
 fore the Bishop deliberately uncoiled his attention. 
 First he fixed his eyes upon the ring on his finger, 
 then he took a leisurely look up and down the 
 avenue which ran before his window as straight 
 and uninteresting as a strip of tape. Finally he 
 turned his gaze on the flame of gas which leaped 
 and fluttered from the artificial log in the fire- 
 place. It was seldom that he allowed himself 
 to look at that log, which was an offense to his 
 esthetic eye, and was tolerated only for its unques- 
 tioned convenience. 
 
 Bishop Alston's mien and bearing suggested 
 not so much the army of the Lord as His diplo- 
 matic service. Nature and time had drawn their 
 tonsure round the Bishop's crown, and a silver 
 fringe fell over his forehead. The eyes beneath 
 looked out small and gray from between narrowed 
 eyelids; but their sharpness was mitigated by 
 benevolent crow's-feet at the corners of the lids. 
 The ears, bent slightly forward, were adapted to 
 catching secrets, and the close-shut mouth to 
 keeping guard over them. The figure was wide 
 at the waist, to the point of straining the waist- 
 coat buttons, and told of one not unfamiliar with 
 flesh-pots. 
 
 " Come in ! "
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL 5 
 
 This in answer to a second knock, for the 
 Bishop's thoughts had wandered too far afield to 
 respond to the first summons from the outer 
 world. 
 
 In answer to the call, Parkins ushered in a 
 young man who stood crushing his soft hat ner- 
 vously, evidently hesitating on the threshold, in 
 spite of the invitation to enter. 
 
 The Bishop rose, looked at the newcomer 
 from over his gold-bowed spectacles, and re- 
 peated : 
 
 " Come in, Mr. f " 
 
 " Walford Stuart Walford." 
 
 There was a slight pause in which the Bishop 
 strove to classify the name in order to fit it with 
 social urbanity or episcopal benevolence. Evi- 
 dently he decided on the latter, for there was a 
 jingle of Peter's keys in his voice as he re- 
 sponded : 
 
 " And how can I be of service to you ? " 
 
 " By your counsel, Bishop. I have no personal 
 claim to urge as an excuse for taking up your 
 valuable time; but my grandfather, Archibald 
 Stuart " Here he drew out a note of intro- 
 duction, which Bishop Alston took to the window 
 and read. 
 
 " Ah ! " murmured the Bishop, adding a shade 
 of warmth to his manner as he felt the social clue
 
 6 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 drop into his fingers. " So Archibald Stuart is 
 your grandfather! We were boys together in 
 the Old Dominion. I knew him well, and liked 
 him as well as I knew him ; but in some way we 
 managed to lose each other : people are so easily 
 lost here at the West a dip in the prairie, and 
 they are gone from sight for years. Archie Stuart 
 a grandfather ! How time flies ! But reminis- 
 cence makes us old fellows tedious. Your grand- 
 father's name is a talisman. Let me ask you 
 again how I can serve you, and of what counsel 
 you stand in need." 
 
 " I wish to consult you about a course of 
 action that I have set my heart on." 
 
 " Is it advice or approval that you wish ? " 
 The youth winced, and the Bishop noted it. 
 "Pardon me, Mr. er-er Mr. Walford " 
 Bishop Alston spoke with that hesitating " er " 
 which Providence bestows on dignitaries to en- 
 able them to deliberate without a full stop : 
 " Pardon me, but we shall get on faster if you 
 tell me quite frankly at the outset whether you 
 have definitely resolved to carry out this course 
 of which you speak, or whether you really intend 
 to be swayed by my possible disapproval." 
 
 " I think it is your consecration more than 
 your approval I am seeking." Unconsciously 
 the young man fingered a black cross hanging
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL 7 
 
 above the clerical waistcoat. " I desire," he 
 rushed on breathlessly, " to dedicate my life to 
 the service of the lepers at Molokai. Damien is 
 dead. There is need of more workers like him." 
 
 " Yes," said the Bishop, with barely perceptible 
 emphasis, " more workers like him." 
 
 " But why should not the Anglican Church 
 send forth men as brave as he as willing to 
 renounce self and follow the cross ? " 
 
 " Self-love," said the Bishop, "has many forms. 
 One of them is altruism." 
 
 \Valford bit his lip. 
 
 " Oh," he cried impatiently, "do not trifle with 
 me ! It may be that I am unworthy ; but go I 
 must. By day and by night I can see nothing but 
 those poor wretches, dying there by inches, shut 
 in by a precipice on one side and the sea on the 
 other. In a beautiful spot *? Yes, but what, in 
 God's name, can that matter to them, cooped up, 
 driven from all human companionship, forgotten 
 by their friends, living in a dull loathing of one 
 another! Would it not be a glorious mission 
 to carry even a gleam of light and hope to these 
 outcasts, and, if one must die a leper, to die a 
 martyr too, and a martyr to such a cause *? " 
 
 The Bishop answered nothing. He was not fol- 
 lowing Walford's impassioned plea very closely. 
 The words of the old prophe* rose to his mind :
 
 8 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "Weep ye not for the dead . . . : but weep sore 
 for him that goeth away ; for he shall return no 
 more, nor see his native country." 
 
 Inadvertently his thought found its way to his 
 lips: 
 
 " What a sacrifice ! " 
 
 "A sacrifice? Yes; but one I am willing, 
 yes, eager, to make. I have counted the cost." 
 
 " Where is your home ? " was the Bishop's 
 somewhat unexpected question. 
 
 " In Alkali." 
 
 " You have always lived there *? " 
 
 " No ; I was born at Painted Rock, Arizona, 
 near the Gila River and the Maricopa Divide." 
 
 " You have traveled *? " 
 
 " Twice a year from Alkali to Tucson, and of 
 course back and forth from the seminary." 
 
 If the Bishop smiled it was imperceptible a 
 mere twitching of the muscles about the mouth, 
 instantly suppressed. 
 
 " You know nothing of Europe, then have 
 never seen either Paris or London, eh ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Nor even New York ? " 
 
 " Nor even New York." 
 
 " Then pardon me, but you have not counted 
 the cost. You are willing to give up a life which 
 you have never lived, that is, never tasted in its
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL 9 
 
 plenitude and power. You have lived among 
 your inferiors. I am not a clairvoyant, but I can 
 read your face, and I know the town where you 
 live. All your spiritual nourishment is drawn 
 from books. Of men, men as good as you mor- 
 ally, better than you intellectually, you know 
 nothing." 
 
 " Do I need to know more than Jesus Christ, 
 and Him crucified?" 
 
 Walford's eye kindled as though some pres- 
 ence were palpable before him. 
 
 The Bishop temporized. 
 
 " Archie Stuart's grandson ! " he exclaimed, as 
 if memory had drifted in like a fog, obscuring 
 the present crisis. 
 
 The visitor tapped on the under side of the 
 chair with restless finger-ends. At last he burst 
 out afresh : " I am ready to give myself wholly, 
 utterly to the Master's service. Can I do more ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " By having more to give." 
 
 "I I don't think I understand you." 
 
 " Perhaps not. What I mean is this : You 
 owe it to God to be first of all as much 
 of a man as it lies in you to be, and after 
 that to consecrate your full powers to the high- 
 est good as you see the highest good. You can-
 
 10 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 not tell no man of twenty-five or less can tell 
 where his mission lies, and many bring discredit 
 on the Master's service by setting themselves 
 tasks beyond their strength, and failing ignomini- 
 ously where they might have carried through a 
 smaller undertaking, if they had but gaged their 
 powers rightly." 
 
 " Ah, it is my strength you doubt ! " 
 
 " Pardon me again," answered the Bishop, in 
 his gentle, first-aid-to-the-injured manner. " I 
 know you so little I can in no wise estimate you 
 individually; but I have known many young 
 men of about your age, and never one whom I 
 thought justified in making a momentous decision 
 by which his whole after life must be bound." 
 
 " Yet young men marry." 
 
 " Yes, more 's the pity too young, most of 
 them. But, after all, that falls in with nature's 
 plan. You are working at cross-purposes with 
 nature. Oh, I do not forget the noble army of 
 martyrs, and St. Sebastian, with his boy's body 
 pierced and bleeding. You would face martyr- 
 dom stanchly I read that in your eye ; but 
 what you purpose is something far harder a 
 renunciation of life and all that makes it worth 
 while, not once for all, to awake in bliss to ever- 
 lasting rewards, but day after day shut off from 
 all the dear, familiar sights and sounds."
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL 11 
 
 " Yet He has promised to be with those vrho 
 go forth in His name " 
 
 The Bishop looked keenly at the flushed 
 cheek, and the broad brow from which the hair 
 had been shaken in an impatient tangle. Twice 
 he half stretched out the fingers of benediction; 
 then he drew them back and laid his hand on a 
 letter, the second in a pile at the end of his desk. 
 
 " Come," he said in his gentlest tones, " you 
 know the Knights of the Grail served their novi- 
 tiate before they were found worthy of the sacred 
 quest. Now I ask of you a like period of proba- 
 tion. I have here a letter from a rector, a friend 
 of mine at the East. He fills the pulpit of St. 
 Simeon Stylites in New York, and he writes that 
 he is overworked and is seeking an assistant. He 
 wants a Western man, a man conspicuous in 
 energy and organizing power, and asks if I can 
 suggest any one. He speaks of haste. Here is 
 your opportunity will you go ? " 
 
 The Bishop turned the ring on his finger as i 
 like Solomon's, it could compel the truth from 
 him whose eyes fell upon it. 
 
 The young man stared first at the ring ab- 
 sently, then at the wearer keenly. He too was 
 weighing motives. 
 
 " I will go," he said ; " but first will you ac- 
 cept my vows ? "
 
 12 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "No, no; you are neither strong enough nor 
 weak enough for vows. Make what resolutions 
 you choose." 
 
 " Resolutions ! Ah, those are weak ! " 
 
 " Only when they are weakly made. If hell 
 is paved with resolutions, heaven is vaulted with 
 them." This sentiment struck the Bishop as 
 rather good, and while he was uttering it he de- 
 termined to use it in his sermon. It might prove 
 worth the interruption. " If," he continued, " at 
 the end of eighteen months you are sure of your- 
 self, come back, and I will receive your vows. 
 More than that I will help you forward on the 
 glorious path which you have chosen." 
 
 Walford looked his gratitude. He could not 
 trust himself to speak. 
 
 " Let me see," said the Bishop. " This is 
 November; how soon could you make your 
 arrangements to start for New York *? " 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " Good ! I like promptness. And have you 
 any money for the journey *? " 
 
 " I have enough for everything." 
 
 " Good again ! " 
 
 The Bishop had a dawning fear that he might 
 have rushed into too impulsive a confidence in 
 this fiery young disciple. The sense of financial 
 backing gave solidity to aspiration.
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL 13 
 
 Walford rose. 
 
 " Sit down ! " his superior commanded, as he 
 drew out a sheet of note-paper. / 
 
 " I am writing a letter of introduction," he 
 explained cordially. " I would rather have you 
 make your impression on Dr. Milner personally 
 than through correspondence. If he appoints 
 you, you will secure the rare privilege of living 
 and working for a year or more by the side of a 
 man who shows forth the beauty of holiness not 
 only with his lips but in his life." 
 
 While the Bishop wrote, the young man 
 looked about him with interest rather than ap- 
 proval. To the soul keyed to sacrifice, luxury 
 is childishness, and Walford experienced a vague 
 scorn of the soft blend of Persian rugs and tapes- 
 tried walls. What right had men with baubles 
 such as these when their fellows were suffering, 
 agonizing, dying ? Yet unconsciously his starved 
 esthetic sense was being fed, and he found him- 
 self rested and refreshed. 
 
 Hitherto his sense of the beautiful had found 
 vent in the enjoyment of nature alone. It had 
 appeared to him a matter of course that the 
 indoor world should be full of hideous shapes 
 and crude colors. It seemed almost immoral that 
 they should be otherwise; yet here he rose 
 and walked to the book-shelves.
 
 14 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "Ah," exclaimed the Bishop, with more enthu- 
 siasm than he had yet shown, "you are looking 
 at my books, eh ? " And rising, he, too, crossed 
 the room to the shelves and drew out a volume 
 bound in blue levant. "Baxter's 'Saint's Rest,'" 
 he explained, " bound by Riviere, and one of my 
 treasures. See the delicacy of that tooling on the 
 inner edge alternate crosses and crowns " 
 
 "Very appropriate," Walford assented; but 
 the subject had little interest for him, and he 
 swiftly reverted to his old hostile attitude of 
 mind the protest of ethics against esthetics, a 
 struggle nineteen hundred years old. 
 
 The Bishop was quick to feel the indifference 
 of the younger man's manner. His books were 
 his children, and he was hypersensitive as to the 
 treatment which they received. He turned to the 
 table, hastily blotted and folded his note, and 
 handed it to Walford, who perceived at once that 
 the interview was ended. 
 
 " One thing more," the Bishop said. "I advise 
 you for these coming eighteen months to put 
 Molokai and its lepers wholly out of your mind. 
 Look at them as if they were the last of your life, 
 and resolve to live them to the full. At the end 
 of the time we have set, come back if you will, 
 and then then we '11 talk of the future." 
 
 Bishop Alston, accompanying Walford to the
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL 15- 
 
 door, laid his hands with kindly emphasis upon 
 the youthful shoulders. 
 
 " Don't think," he said, " that I fail to sympa- 
 thize with your hopes and aims ! It is a great 
 work that you have in view, a noble work, 
 and I honor you from my heart for your pur- 
 pose." 
 
 Walford bowed in silence, and the door closed 
 after his retreating footsteps. The Bishop mused 
 for some time with bent head, his elbows resting 
 on the table, and his delicate fingers running 
 through the thin fringe of silver hair. 
 
 He pulled toward him the half-finished sermon 
 which had been thrust aside at the stranger's 
 entrance and strove to pick up again the thread 
 of his discourse ; but it would not do. A real 
 life-problem had come between him and the aca- 
 demic argument, and he could not get rid of its 
 bulk and the shadow that it cast. * 
 
 He acknowledged to himself that he had gone 
 beyond his warrant in advising this young man 
 on such short acquaintance. Would it not have 
 been better, more in keeping with his office, to 
 have received Walford's vows, to have encircled 
 him with strengthening influences, to have sent 
 him on his sacred errand of help and mercy, and 
 followed him with blessing? 
 
 " No," said the Bishop, finally, aloud, as was
 
 16 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 often his wont in talking with himself; " he must 
 prove all things before he can have strength to 
 hold fast that which is good. I think I will write 
 to Anne about him. He has never known a 
 woman like her. What will he think of Anne, 
 I wonder"? Will he ever come back?" 
 
 The Bishop meditated for a long time with 
 folded arms and bent head. Then he drew out a 
 fresh tablet of paper, and, after consulting his 
 Testament, wrote at the head of the page : 
 
 "And he bearing his cross went forth (John xix. 17)." 
 
 Having written the text, he returned the paper 
 to his drawer and turned the key. " There," he 
 said ; " some day I will write a sermon from that 
 text some day when I know what this man 
 does with his life. Archie Stuart's grandson ! 
 Will he ever come back ? " 
 
 " Parkins, turn off the gas from the log."
 
 II 
 
 THE FOUR ROADS 
 
 " Ai a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." 
 
 WALFORD had spent six months in New 
 York, and already he measured his life 
 by them. Memory declined to visualize the 
 little Western town where he had lived through 
 two-and-twenty years of his youth, never ques- 
 tioning the wealth of its resources. Why should 
 he have questioned it? There were rows upon 
 rows of comfortable houses where the residents 
 were supremely occupied in residing. There 
 were new buildings constantly going up, more 
 commodious and no uglier than their predeces- 
 sors, and there was a steady growth of the census 
 report, which brought swelling pride to the heart 
 of every loyal citizen of Alkali. 
 
 As he looked back upon it all now, it was as 
 if through a veil of the dust of the plains. The 
 present alone had tangible reality. At twenty- 
 five he felt that he had just begun to live. 
 
 17
 
 i8 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 New York " haunted him like a passion." He 
 felt an intoxication in its very air, and he threw 
 himself eagerly into each passing experience. 
 He had visited every picture-gallery; he knew 
 every orchestral program by heart ; he had dined 
 in rich men's palaces ; he had heard great orators 
 and felt the thrill of their speech. But, after all, 
 there was nothing like the city streets. They had 
 taught him more than all the rest, and he was ac- 
 customed to walk up and down the great thor- 
 oughfares from Broadway to the Bowery, in a 
 delighted absorption, studying the myriad types 
 of men drifting around him. 
 
 On this Sunday morning he was on his way 
 from church to keep a luncheon engagement at 
 a club, and as he strolled up Fifth Avenue, un- 
 consciously he caught the gaiety of the crowd 
 which surged up and down in all colors of the 
 rainbow, like a flight of butterflies sunning them- 
 selves in the soft spring air. 
 
 At a broad window of the club toward which 
 Walford's steps were tending, two men sat in 
 deep leather arm-chairs, viewing the scene be- 
 neath them with lazy enjoyment. 
 
 " How intensely alive it all is ! " said one of the 
 spectators, a tall man with thinly parted, colorless 
 hair. " It gives me a qualm to think of tearing my- 
 self away from a show like this to go to a funeral."
 
 THE FOUR ROADS 19 
 
 " You going to a funeral this afternoon, Flem- 
 ing ? I wonder if it 's mine." 
 
 " You don't look like it, Yates." 
 
 The speaker smiled as he watched the flushed 
 face and stout figure opposite. 
 
 Yates wore a scarf-pin in the shape of a 
 telephone mouthpiece, yet he had his good 
 points. 
 
 "Oh," he explained with superfluous exactness, 
 " I did n't mean mine in that sense ; I mean the 
 one I 'm going to the services in memory of 
 my uncle, Richard Biythe." 
 
 " Curious ! " exclaimed a third man, dropping 
 the newspaper which he had been reading, and 
 drawing up his chair. " I am going there, too. 
 I was Blythe's physician awhile ago, before I 
 gave up practice." 
 
 Fleming chuckled. 
 
 " * Earth covers the doctor's errors,' Newton," 
 he said. 
 
 " It would be a lucky thing for Biythe if it 
 covered the errors of the patients/' Newton an- 
 swered, and then added, " I forgot that you said 
 he was your uncle, Yates." 
 
 " Don't apologize ! You can't hurt my feel- 
 ings by any remarks. I '11 tell you what I think 
 when I 've read the will." 
 
 " His will is in my box at the safe-deposit
 
 20 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 company," said Fleming, quietly. " I have told 
 my clerk to send you a copy to-morrow." 
 
 Yates opened his eyes wide. 
 
 " I did n't know you knew my uncle so well. 
 Have you been his counsel long *? " 
 
 " Ten years or so. Excuse me ! I must look 
 out for a guest who is coming Mr. Walford. 
 You know him, Newton ? " 
 
 " I have seen him somewhere, but I can't re- 
 member where." 
 
 " He 's the new assistant rector at St. Simeon's. 
 You have probably seen his picture in the Sun- 
 day papers, bracketed with Dr. Milner's, this 
 morning. He 's another recruit for the service 
 this afternoon, and lunches with me here first. 
 Blythc was a parishioner, you know." 
 
 As Fleming spoke, the other men turned their 
 glance toward the slender, dark-eyed man who 
 entered the room preceded by a uniformed bell- 
 boy, and threaded his way among the groups of 
 idlers. He looked about him inquiringly, until 
 his search ended in Fleming, and he smiled il- 
 luminatingly as Fleming moved to meet him. 
 
 " That smile ought to be worth ten thousand 
 a year to a clergyman," Newton said to Yates 
 under his breath, rising to greet the newcomer. 
 
 " Dr. Newton, Mr. Walford and Mr. Yates," 
 said Fleming.
 
 THE FOUR ROADS 21 
 
 The men bowed : Yates like an American, as 
 if conferring an honor, Newton like a European, 
 as if receiving one. 
 
 " We were just speaking of the funeral this 
 afternoon. We are all going Dr. Newton 
 was Mr. Blythe's physician and Mr. Yates is his 
 nephew." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Walford, non-committally ; 
 then turning to Yates, " Your uncle was a liberal 
 supporter of our church charities/' 
 
 " A good advertisement, that giving to chari- 
 ties," Yates answered. "Uncle Richard never 
 gave anything that people did n't hear of, I 
 guess." 
 
 " Oh, come, Yates," Fleming observed, " that 's 
 not fair play. There is always more than an 
 even chance that the living are speaking ill of 
 you, so that what you say of them is only give 
 and take ; but when their meuths are shut, yours 
 ought to be." 
 
 " Yes," said Newton, " silence in regard to the 
 dead is an easy form of charity ; but I pity the 
 clergyman called upon for a post-mortem eulogy. 
 There 's where your church service is such a 
 refuge. Fancy a man called upon to eulogize 
 Richard Blythe, to tell what a benefit to man- 
 kind his example had been, and what a joy it 
 would be to meet him again in heaven ! "
 
 22 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Heaven ! Does any one believe in it now- 
 adays ? Excuse me, Mr. Walford ; I forgot the 
 cloth for the moment." 
 
 It was Fleming who spoke. 
 
 Walford forced himself to smile. Had he 
 not resolved to be all things to all men, and was 
 not this a phase of life and thought with which 
 he was bound to come in touch, at least from 
 the outside ? 
 
 " Please go on," he said. " Is it your opinion 
 that most people do not believe in heaven *? " 
 
 " No more than they do in the Beatitudes or 
 the Golden Rule," said Yates, going further than 
 Fleming had intended. 
 
 " It 's a golden rule that won't work both 
 ways," he murmured, ready to sacrifice his repu- 
 tation for intelligence for the sake of changing 
 the subject; but the topic was a Frankenstein 
 creation which, once called into existence, would 
 not down at the bidding of its creator. 
 
 " I don't suppose," said Newton, fixing his 
 hawk eyes on Fleming, " that one in a hundred 
 of these people who have just come out of their 
 churches could give an intelligible account of 
 his idea of heaven, or even of what he would 
 wish it to be." 
 
 " * Heaven is the vision of fulfilled desire,' " 
 said Fleming, wondering if anything short of an
 
 THE FOUR ROADS 23 
 
 order for drinks would drive Frankenstein's man 
 back to his lair. 
 
 " All desires *? " Newton asked in his rasping 
 voice. 
 
 Fleming shrugged his shoulders. " The words 
 are Omar's, not mine," he said. 
 
 But Newton returned to the charge. 
 
 "Tell us, Yates, what would your idea of 
 heaven be?" 
 
 As he spoke, Dr. Newton settled back in his 
 chair and lighted a cigar, while he looked at 
 Yates through half-closed lids, curiously, as he 
 would have inspected a lizard or a beetle. He 
 noted the angle extending outward from the 
 temples to the base of the jaw, the puffy circles 
 about the eyes, and he felt that it would greatly 
 interest him to know what conception of the 
 spiritual world lay imbedded in that individ- 
 uality. 
 
 " Well," said Yates, playing with his watch- 
 chain, " I believe in taking your good times 
 while you can get them here on earth. I like 
 yachts and horses and automobiles and all that " 
 
 " That is," said Fleming, giving up the con- 
 test and yielding to the inevitable, "given plenty 
 of money, you 'd guarantee to make a heaven 
 of your own. What would you say, Newton*? 
 What would your heaven be ? "
 
 24 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " I confess I have no views of the future state. 
 I hold no chair of eschatology, and my ambi- 
 tions for this world are quite modest." 
 
 " For instance "? " 
 
 The question roused Newton to a new energy. 
 He sat up straight and buttoned his rough tweed 
 coat close over his chest. His fine bearing and 
 ill-fitting clothes gave him a curious effect of 
 being a cross between a prince incognito and a 
 tramp cognito. 
 
 His eyes shot fire from under his shaggy eye- 
 brows as he answered : " My ambition *? Simply 
 to put myself to school to learn something of the 
 laws under which we live. Here we are, several 
 hundred millions of atoms clinging to a small 
 dependency of a small sun. The breath of life 
 lasts with each of us a mere fraction of the time 
 it takes for a ray of light from the distant stars to 
 reach us. Now, with such an ephemeral exis- 
 tence, nothing seems worth while except to oc- 
 cupy ourselves with guesses at truth and some 
 effort to solve the world-enigma. 
 
 " But, after all," said Fleming, " that is a ques- 
 tion of duty, not of happiness." 
 
 " I can't imagine finding happiness in any- 
 thing which we realize as lasting only for a 
 moment. We must hook our lives on to the 
 eternities to give them any significance. Know-
 
 THE FOUR ROADS 25 
 
 ledge, after all, is a coral island, built on millions 
 of dead workers." 
 
 " But this does not touch the question of indi- 
 vidual pleasure." 
 
 " Oh," said Newton, " if you ask what my idea 
 of pleasure is, I should say work. If you ask 
 what reward, I should say recognition of my 
 work." 
 
 " Fame ? " 
 
 " Not what most men mean by that. It would 
 not gratify me in the least to see my name in 
 five-inch letters on the front of a morning news- 
 paper, still less to see my picture " Here he 
 paused, noting Walford's conscious flush, and 
 then hurled himself toward his next remark, care- 
 less of connection : " Jury of my peers, that 's 
 what I wish to be tried by, and I am willing to 
 accept the verdict. Come, Fleming, it 's your 
 turn." 
 
 " Oh, leave me out ! I have no imagination." 
 
 "You are a fortunate man," said Newton. 
 " Imagination is death to accurate deductions : it 
 is a nuisance. Did you ever watch an assayer 
 weigh a grain of gold *? He puts the grain on 
 the tiny scale, and then he draws down a glass 
 case over it, so that there shall be no vibration 
 of air to disturb the balance. That 's the way we 
 ought to measure truth in a dead calm. In-
 
 26 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 stead of which, we turn imagination loose to blow 
 a gale over it. A nuisance I call it, an unmiti- 
 gated nuisance " 
 
 " There I differ with you," Fleming answered. 
 " Imagination is given to a man to console him 
 for what he is not, as humor is given to him to 
 console him for what he is. A man who has both 
 is very near heaven already." 
 
 " But your ambition *? " 
 
 " Bless your inquiring soul, Newton, I have n't 
 any ! Time was, before my eyes gave out, when 
 I expected to see the name of Blair Fleming 
 writ large on the bill-board of history; but next 
 to a career, the best thing is a good excuse for 
 not achieving one." 
 
 " Have you no hopes ? " 
 
 " Hopes *? Yes, I have hopes of getting 
 through life with as little interference with or 
 from my neighboring atoms as possible." 
 
 " But your idea of heaven *? " 
 
 "A land where I should never be bored 
 Utopian, you see." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Newton, giving up Fleming 
 and turning to the latest comer, " Mr. Walford 
 will give us his views." 
 
 Walford, who till now had been an interested 
 and amused, if somewhat shocked, onlooker, 
 found himself suddenly dragged into the melee.
 
 THE FOUR ROADS 27 
 
 "I I am afraid I have no views worth con- 
 tributing," he stammered, awkwardly fingering 
 the prayer-book in his hand. 
 
 "Oh, well, now," said Fleming, "you know 
 we don't expect an inspired account; we only 
 wish to know what you think of when you say 
 4 heaven.' " 
 
 " Shall I tell seriously ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Then I should say that it was a place where 
 all men lived in obedience to the will of God, 
 and that my highest heaven would lie in the 
 thought that I had led them there." 
 
 " In short," said Newton, setting his tense, 
 positive lips argumentatively, "your idea of 
 heaven is influence ? " 
 
 " Influence for good yes, I suppose it re- 
 duces itself to that," Walford answered in evi- 
 dent embarrassment. 
 
 Fleming, perceiving that his guest was ill at 
 ease in being thus crowded into a corner, stopped 
 wiping his eye-glasses, stooped forward in order 
 to thrust his handkerchief into his coat-tail 
 pocket, and said : 
 
 " Suppose for heaven we substitute paradise 
 that word is depolarized, and we may speak our 
 minds more freely. To Yates, paradise means 
 money. Newton declares for work and the
 
 28 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 credit for it. And you want influence influ- 
 ence for good. I wonder if any of you will 
 attain your paradise." 
 
 Walford noticed that Fleming had really said 
 nothing of himself, and he would have liked to 
 ask further ; but something forbade. The young 
 clergyman had learned many things in the few 
 months of his stay in New York. Men here 
 intrenched themselves behind a barrier of re- 
 serve. What was sympathy in the West became 
 curiosity in the East, and it was not permitted 
 to inquire too closely. He had noticed, too, 
 how much less strenuously for the most part men 
 in the metropolis held their beliefs. Opinions 
 seemed to be flats, not homesteads. They were 
 shorn of association and sacredness, and liable to 
 be changed at convenience, or were at least open 
 to alteration on any promise of betterment. He 
 was not sure that he preferred it to the provincial- 
 ism where " I have always thought " was reason 
 good. To him it savored of levity; and yet he 
 could not deny that it gave a sense of spacious- 
 ness to talk. 
 
 Newton irritated him. The doctor had a way 
 of saying : " Is that your point of view*? How 
 very interesting ! " which reduced one to the 
 status of a specimen. But Fleming was differ- 
 ent. Walford felt that he understood that long,
 
 THE FOUR ROADS 29 
 
 lazy man with the colorless hair, and to compre- 
 hend is to possess. Yet he was troubled by 
 Fleming's views and unreligious attitude of mind. 
 He wished devoutly that his influence for good 
 might begin with Fleming. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by seeing 
 Yates yawn, first surreptitiously, then openly, and 
 finally rise and look at his watch. 
 
 "Do you lunch at the club, too, Newton?" 
 Yates asked. " I presume you are in town for 
 the dayV" 
 
 " Yes," Newton answered. " I have moved 
 to the suburbs for work ; but for relaxation New 
 York is the only place." 
 
 " And your wife does she like life on Long 
 Island <? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; she loves her potato-patch and her 
 poultry better than anything that Fifth Avenue 
 could give her." 
 
 " Suburbanity ! " Fleming murmured under his 
 breath. 
 
 As the group broke up, Yates drew Fleming 
 a little aside, and stood for the moment tilting 
 a chair back and forth in some embarrassment. 
 At last breaking the silence with which Fleming 
 declined to meddle, he said : 
 
 " You have been Mr. Blythe's counsel for ten 
 years ? "
 
 30 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Then you probably know his daughter-in-law.* 1 
 
 " Mrs. Richard Blythe, Jr.? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I have met her occasionally." 
 
 " A charming woman Anne Blythe is." 
 
 Fleming bowed. 
 
 " Her husband, Dick Blythe, was rather a 
 brute," Yates went on. 
 
 " So I have heard." 
 
 " He took after his father. But the old man 
 seemed fond of his son's widow. She was at the 
 head of his house, you know." 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 " Would there be any harm in asking if the 
 bulk of my uncle's fortune goes to her *? " 
 
 " No harm whatever." 
 
 " Well, then does it ? " 
 
 " The harm would lie in my answering. You 
 and Mrs. Blythe will each receive a copy of the 
 will to-morrow. Before that you must excuse 
 me from talking on the subject." 
 
 '* Humph ! " said Yates, as he left the room 
 and walked slowly down the marble steps, plan- 
 ned for princes and trod by plebeians, "Flem- 
 ing need n't be so touchy. Of all the fool 
 things in the world, professional etiquette is the 
 damn-foolishest."
 
 Ill 
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 
 
 " About the nations rum a aw 
 That over-good ill fortune breed*." 
 
 IT was the afternoon of the third day after the 
 funeral when Stuart Walford rang the bell of 
 the Blythe mansion, and on inquiring for Mrs. 
 Blythe was shown into the drawing-room, which 
 ran the length of the house on the street side 
 of the hall. 
 
 This was Walford's first call of condolence, 
 and he wished devoutly that Dr. Milner had 
 been at home to make it in his place ; but he 
 told himself that, after all, it was an experience 
 and an opportunity for influence ; moreover, the 
 reports which he had heard of Mrs. Blythe, 
 whom he had not yet seen, led him to think that 
 she would be of a new and interesting type. 
 Altogether it was in a mixed state of mind that 
 he entered the drawing-room. 
 
 The time of his waiting did not weary him, 
 3'
 
 32 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 for he was so unaccustomed to New York that 
 each new phase interested him, and the Blythe 
 household represented distinctly a new phase. 
 Ordinarily at this time of the year the rooms 
 would have been swathed in those cerements of 
 white linen in which the best houses stand after 
 the first of May, awaiting their resurrection in the 
 autumn. But Mr. Blythe's illness had postponed 
 all this springtime demolition. Heavy draperies 
 still covered the windows, Eastern rugs lay their 
 palm-leaf length on the slippery floor, and the 
 fine paintings on the wall hung undisguised by 
 swath ings. 
 
 It was one of the pictures which had fixed 
 Walford's attention so closely as to make him 
 oblivious of the time occupied by Mrs. Blythe in 
 her toilet. The painter was a Frenchman, and 
 had chosen his subject for its theatrical effec- 
 tiveness and its adaptability to composition a 
 young girl of noble family taking the veil in a 
 Carmelite convent : on one side the dim throng 
 of sad-colored nuns, on the other the court circle 
 in gorgeous garb, and in the center this slim vir- 
 ginal figure, with the meager charm of a Botticelli 
 Madonna, bending its golden head to receive the 
 obliterating veil. 
 
 Walford's awakening esthetic sense took in 
 vaguely the glow of color and the grace of line ;
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 33 
 
 but he was still unsophisticated enough to be af- 
 fected by the story told by the painter, and he felt 
 himself strongly moved by the pathos of it all. 
 
 So absorbed had he become that he was almost 
 startled by the rustle of skirts and the tap of a 
 slippered foot on the oak stairs. He rose stiffly 
 and awaited the coming interview, his thoughts 
 rapidly passing in review the course which he 
 had determined that it should take. 
 
 First he would introduce himself and explain 
 his coming, then he would struggle through the 
 period of condolence, then he would glide off 
 into church-work, for his lately acquired worldly 
 wisdom taught him not to overlook the possible 
 value of the Blythe fortune to the St. Simeon 
 Mission. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe entered. Walford had a confused 
 impression of a slight figure, a small head held 
 loftily, hazel eyes with high lights in them, and 
 curling lashes which lent a childlike expression to 
 a glance otherwise somewhat defiant in its direct- 
 ness. Walford instinctively suspended judg- 
 ment on her beauty till she should speak : after 
 she had spoken he forgot to have an opinion. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe bade him good morning as easily 
 as if she had known him all her life, and motioned 
 him to be seated, while for herself she selected a 
 low easy-chair covered with pale-green brocade.
 
 34 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Walford began at once on the little speech 
 which he had prepared on the street and sorted 
 on the steps. 
 
 " I have come," he said, " at the request of Dr. 
 Milner, who is out of town, to bring you a mes- 
 sage of sympathy in your sorrow." 
 
 The candid eyes looked full into his face for 
 an instant. 
 
 " It was very good in you in him ; but, to 
 be quite frank with you, I do not need it." 
 
 Involuntarily Walford's gaze swept over her 
 black dress and rested on the dark circles beneath 
 her eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe answered as if he had spoken. 
 
 "Yes, I know; but they are deceptive. I 
 wear black because I wish the world to think 
 that I am sorry, and I have been crying because 
 I am not." 
 
 Walford had come armed with several felici- 
 tous quotations from Thomas a Kempis and 
 Phillips Brooks, but clearly they would not fit. 
 Fortunately, he chanced upon the simplest and 
 therefore the best form of speech. 
 
 " Tell me about it all, please. That is, if you 
 can." 
 
 " I think," Anne began hesitatingly, " that I 
 should like to tell you, if you have time to listen. 
 Yes, I should like to tell you, though I know you
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 35 
 
 so little perhaps because I know you so little. 
 I have been decorous, and said just what I ought, 
 till I can't bear it any longer. I must speak out." 
 
 As long as women go to church and have 
 clergymen, they will continue to make injudicious 
 confidences to them. It is the legacy of many 
 hundred years. But Anne thought little of this as 
 she sat looking down, pushing the great diamond 
 round and round on her slender third finger. 
 Her mind was altogether fixed on herself and 
 her own troubles. The man before her was only 
 an escape-valve, a vent. She began at last ex- 
 plosively. 
 
 " For the last year and a half I have lived 
 here under Richard Blythe's roof in what the 
 world calls perfect comfort. I have had fine 
 clothes to wear, and carriages to drive in at such 
 hours as suited Mr. Blythe. Friends I have had 
 none he did not approve. His footstep in the 
 hall of an afternoon was the first sound to break 
 the stillness. Then came the drive in the park 
 without a friendly word just the monotonous 
 sound of the horses' feet. Afterward came dinner, 
 long and solemn and silent ; then the evening in 
 the library, where he liked me to play to him ; 
 and then he would take down his son's picture 
 from the mantel and talk, talk, talk about him." 
 
 " That at least must have been a comfort."
 
 36 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "Comfort*? It was a torture. I wonder, in 
 looking back, why I endured the last eighteen 
 months; and yet I know why well enough. It 
 was the same thing that made me marry Richard 
 Blythe's son I loved luxury. I was only 
 eighteen when I was married. I knew I was 
 marrying for money ; but I did not know what 
 it meant." 
 
 Walford's eyes looked his sympathy. 
 
 " For four years we lived together as man and 
 wife," she continued. " I never look back upon 
 that time I cannot. It was hell ! " 
 
 The silence was broken only by the tick of the 
 clock on the mantel. Anne Blythe could scarcely 
 articulate for the dryness in her throat, but when 
 she spoke again it was calmly enough. 
 
 " He died at last, cursing God and man, and 
 most of all his wife." 
 
 There was bitterness in her voice. It grew as 
 she went on. 
 
 "His father took the same view: it was my 
 fault; all young fellows sowed their wild oats; 
 men were what their wives made them. I knew 
 my lesson well." 
 
 " At least it is over now." 
 
 "Yes," she exclaimed, her look changing swiftly 
 from bitterness to exultation. " It is over now, 
 and I mean to be happy, to lead my own life."
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 37 
 
 " It ought to be a happy life which lies before 
 a woman like you, with youth and health and a 
 great fortune." 
 
 " So you have heard that," she said quickly. 
 "Perhaps you think I ought to be grateful to 
 Mr. Blythe for leaving me his millions; but I 'm 
 not. He had to leave them to some one, and 
 he hated the Yateses. Besides, the humiliating 
 conditions ! But never mind those ; I have put 
 everything behind me except the joy of belong- 
 ing to myself and being the woman I always 
 meant to be." 
 
 " Perhaps it is not an opportune time to bring 
 up the matter; but later, it might do you 
 good, if we could interest you in our parish 
 work among the poor " 
 
 Mrs. Blythe put up a deprecating hand, palm 
 outward. 
 
 " Thank you, no ! I know nothing of your 
 poor. I wish to know less. It is my life I mean 
 to lead mine^ not Bridget's in the tenement nor 
 Jacob's in the sweat-shop. I have had enough 
 of vice and misery. The corners of my soul 
 are full of their germs; I want a great wave of 
 happiness to wash it all clean. Oh, can't you see !" 
 
 " Yes, yes," Walford answered, " I do see. I 
 understand perfectly." 
 
 " Thank you ; it 's awfully good in you to
 
 38 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 understand. You don't know what it means to 
 me, after living with a man like my father-in- 
 law, who never would " 
 
 " Perhaps he could n't " 
 
 " He never wished to." 
 
 "And yet I think," said Walford, softly, 
 " that he was very fond of you." 
 
 " Of me ! " Anne sat bolt upright, and her 
 eyes grew round as china plates. 
 
 " Yes, I am sure of it." 
 
 "Why, please?" 
 
 "He took so much trouble " 
 
 " Yes to trouble me." 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " Oh, I don't say it 's agreeable to be loved in 
 that fashion, and no doubt it was selfish in Mr. 
 Blythe ; but don't you see how he tried to keep 
 you with him and to keep other people away, and 
 to make you talk with him about your about 
 his son, and all the time he grew more and more 
 bitter and exacting because he could n't make 
 you show what you felt ? But he could n't any 
 more than if he had been pouring gall and worm- 
 wood over a marble statue." 
 
 " I think," said Anne, with a tired little sigh, 
 " I prefer admiration to love. It demands so 
 much less."
 
 ' YES, YES,' WALFORU ANSWERED, 'I DO SEE. I UNDERSTAND PERFECTLY."
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 41 
 
 " Perhaps that is because you never loved." 
 
 Walford trembled at his audacity when he had 
 spoken, but his words gave no offense. 
 
 " It is wonderful," Anne murmured, " perfectly 
 wonderful, how you understand ! " 
 
 The words were spoken like a little child. 
 Walford half smiled as he rose. 
 
 "I will not stay longer now," he said, "for I 
 see that you are overstrained and need rest ; but 
 if at any time you would like to talk with me, 
 you have only to let me know." 
 
 " Thank you again. It means a great deal to 
 me your sympathy. If you get hold of every 
 one as you have of me, there will be no end to 
 your influence here in New York." 
 
 Walford colored and hesitated a moment. 
 Should he tell her? "No," said Intuition, which 
 taught him that mutual confidences cheapen each 
 other, and that no afternoon is long enough for 
 two souls to unburden themselves. 
 
 As Anne stretched out her hand at parting, her 
 handkerchief dropped to the floor. Walford 
 stooped awkwardly enough to pick it up. The 
 faint scent of the bit of black-edged cobweb clung 
 to his glove. 
 
 On the steps he lingered to look at his watch 
 and wonder how much time he had before the 
 Penny Provident meeting. To his surprise, he
 
 42 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 found that he was late already; yet he did not 
 hasten. His thoughts were still in the shaded 
 parlor. He still saw that luminous pale face, 
 those frank mutinous eyes. And he had minis- 
 tered to that sore heart. Yes, she had said so, and 
 what was it"? That there might be no end to 
 his influence here in this great city. She had not 
 guessed how near at hand the end was. Here 
 he broke off abruptly and turned to another line 
 of thought. 
 
 How did it happen, he wondered, that he, a 
 clergyman, had gone to the house of mourning 
 and had said no word of spiritual consolation or 
 exhortation that his only answer to words of 
 rebellion and self-assertion had been, " I under- 
 stand perfectly " ? 
 
 From this he turned to still another theme, and 
 tried to conjure up the vision of Mrs. Blythe as 
 she looked sitting in that deep chair against the 
 green of the brocade. He found it a task beyond 
 his powers. Analysis is necessary to recollection, 
 and analysis is possible only to the calm observer. 
 
 As for Anne, after her talk with Walford, her 
 spirits rebounded violently. A consciousness of 
 imprudence is an exhilarating tonic. She had 
 spoken out. On the whole, she was not sorry. 
 The explosion was bound to come, and under 
 other circumstances the confidence might have
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 43 
 
 been much more dangerous. She had, as it were, 
 shrived herself before a priest, who was bound to 
 observe professional reticence. Moreover, Mr. 
 Walford, with his awkward manner and his 
 Western accent, was not quite of her world, and 
 she would be spared that annoying consciousness 
 which besets us in constant meetings with those 
 to whom we have laid our hearts inconveniently 
 bare. 
 
 Yes, she was glad, distinctly glad. Let that 
 be the last word on the past. Now for the fu- 
 ture ! With a light heart she tripped up the 
 stairs to her little boudoir. On the desk lay a 
 letter from her uncle, Bishop Alston. She was 
 very fond of the Bishop, and she opened and 
 read the letter eagerly : 
 
 *' MY DEAR ANNE : I will not pretend to con- 
 dole with you over Mr. Blythe's death. I know 
 how difficult your position was and how strained 
 the relations between you and him have been 
 since your husband died. Under the circum- 
 stances the parting must be a relief. I suppose, 
 as there are no nearer heirs, you will have a large 
 share of the property. If so, remember that the 
 only return you can make is by allowing no re- 
 flection to be cast upon Mr. Blythe's memory. 
 Believe me, my dear niece, there is nothing equal
 
 44 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 in dignity to silence. Do not be misled by any 
 desire to put your side of the story before the 
 world. The world will thrust its tongue into its 
 cheek and believe just what it chooses anyway. 
 [Anne bit her lip as she remembered the flow of 
 confidences to the curate an hour ago.] But for- 
 give my sermonizing pen if it runs away with 
 me [the letter went on] ; I did not take it up to 
 lecture, but to beg. I want a visit a good 
 long visit from you as soon as your affairs are 
 settled and you can leave New York with a 
 comfortable sense of leisure. Remember I am 
 past sixty-three, and, as my friend FitzGerald 
 says : * We grand climactericals must not pro- 
 crastinate, much less pro-annuate.' Come to me, 
 and write me when you will come, that I may 
 be glad beforehand. 
 
 " I often blame myself, in looking over your 
 life, that I did not make a stronger effort to 
 have you under my charge in your childhood. 
 Sometimes I have thought that things might 
 have been different if I had. Your mother, as 
 you know, was my favorite sister, but after her 
 death your father and I drifted apart, never hav- 
 ing had very much in common, so that when he 
 died and left you in care of his sister, I felt no 
 right to interfere, though I dreaded the effect of 
 her worldliness on your inexperience. Not that
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 45 
 
 I objected to her being a woman of fashion 
 quite the contrary. I have always felt that a 
 knowledge of the world is the best safeguard 
 against being led away by it. The crassest world- 
 liness and materialism with which I have met 
 have not been among the very poor or the very 
 rich, but in the temperate zone of society, in the 
 smaller towns and among people of moderate 
 means, like your Aunt Fanny. In her case a 
 large ambition and a small income went as badly 
 together as a great empire and little minds. 
 They combined to force her into a position neither 
 dignified nor commendable, and her rejoicings 
 over your marriage with the son of a rich man 
 went far beyond the bounds of good taste, and 
 laid both her and you open to severe criticism. 
 I am afraid that in my disapprobation I with- 
 drew from the situation too abruptly and too far. 
 But an end to this long letter, and let me know 
 when to expect you. 
 
 " Affectionately your uncle, 
 
 ** LAWRENCE G. ALSTON. 
 
 " P.S. How did you like my curate ? " 
 
 When Mrs. Blythe had finished reading, she 
 sat for some time musing, her head resting on 
 her hand. At length she drew out a sheet of 
 black-crested paper and began a response :
 
 46 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " DEAR UNCLE [she wrote] : I am impelled to 
 answer your letter at once, to tell you that it is 
 as you foresaw. I am left heir to the Blythe 
 estate. Certain substantial sums, enough to look 
 well in the morning papers under the heading 
 ' Beneficences of One of our Leading Million- 
 aires,' are left to charities. A hundred thousand 
 dollars go to Tom and Eunice Yates. The 
 rest to me, under a restriction which does not 
 surprise me at all. In case of my marrying 
 again, the terms of the will are to be reversed. 
 I am to have the Yateses' share, and they mine. 
 Somewhat humiliating, this clause, but of no 
 practical effect. I have burned my fingers once, 
 and shall never try the fire of matrimony again. 
 So this does not disturb my satisfaction. 
 
 "/ mean to be happy I wish I knew how to 
 write it in capitals large enough to express the 
 height and depth of my intention. There is not 
 a creature in the world to whom I owe any par- 
 ticular obligation, so I shall adopt myself, and I 
 intend to treat myself as a philanthropist treats 
 his favorite charity. Thanks for your invita- 
 tion! Sometime I shall be delighted to ac- 
 cept it; but just at present I am thoroughly 
 used up with all the excitement and nervous 
 strain of the last six weeks, indeed, of the last 
 six years, and I am anxious to get away from
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 47 
 
 it all for a while, to put a space of actual dis- 
 tance, as well as of time, between me and my 
 past; so I am arranging to sail for Europe early 
 in June, and I want you to go with me as 
 whatever is the masculine of chaperon. 
 
 " Tell me that you will, there 's a dear! 
 
 " Don't shake your mitered locks and say it is 
 impossible. Even a bishop owes something to 
 family ties, and all your churches and charges 
 and institutions together do not need you half as 
 much as I do. We will summer on the coast 
 of France in a dear little niche of the Brittany 
 coast close by St. Malo, then in the autumn 
 we '11 jog along down to Rome, reserving judg- 
 ment on Athens and Cairo. In the spring we '11 
 take a villa at Florence for a while, and after 
 that you shall come home if you must. Re- 
 member I count upon you, and meanwhile be 
 assured that you know no one more in need of 
 spiritual advice than 
 
 " Your loving niece, 
 
 "ANNE BLYTHE. 
 
 " P.S. I saw your young curate to-day and 
 was quite taken by surprise. I shall make a 
 point of seeing a great deal of him when we 
 come home." 
 
 Her letter finished, Anne rang for the
 
 48 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 brougham. The day was mild and lovely. 
 Secretly she would have preferred the victoria; 
 but the conventions were against it. As it was, 
 the open windows of the brougham allowed the 
 soft breezes to play through her hair and cool 
 her hot cheeks. Care for the time withdrew, 
 and left her mind open to all the influences of 
 the moment. As the carriage entered the park, 
 her eyes took in with pleasure the line of nurses 
 gossiping in groups and wheeling the baby-car- 
 riages with averted heads. A turn of the road 
 brought her to a green space where a group of 
 boys were tossing a ball to and fro ; and farther 
 on, joyous shouts drew her attention to a May- 
 party, the little queen leading a tumultuous pro- 
 cession insubordinate to her mild authority, each 
 child bent on his individual enjoyment regardless 
 of the rest. Only one conscientious elder sister 
 held fast to the chubby hand of the littlest 
 one, dragging reluctant toes along the rough 
 asphalt. 
 
 " What a world of children it is ! " thought 
 Anne, and stifled a sigh only half understood. 
 
 Before the cross-road at McGown's Pass was 
 reached, the fresh air had raised her spirits to 
 such a degree that she found herself humming 
 softly under her breath the tune which the May- 
 party had been singing as she passed :
 
 ANNE BLYTHE 49 
 
 ' London Bridge is falling down, 
 
 My fair lady! 
 
 Build it up with bricks and stones, 
 My fair lady!" 
 
 London Bridge seemed to rise before her as 
 her own life. It was lying in ruins now ; but she 
 would build it up again. The bricks should be 
 of gold, and its walls should echo with mirth 
 and laughter. 
 
 She was still in this mood of slippery exalta- 
 tion when the carriage drew up again before her 
 own door. For the first time she looked up at 
 the broad expanse of brownstone and plate-glass 
 with a thrill of pleasure in the pride of owner- 
 ship. It had been a prison ; but she forgave it 
 its past in the promise of its future. 
 
 The man at the door announced that some 
 one was waiting to see her in the office. As 
 Mrs. Blythe walked the length of crimson-car- 
 peted hall she gloried in being ruler of her fate, 
 and bestowed a moment's pity on the women 
 whose lives were inextricably tangled with the 
 sordid and the commonplace. Entering the 
 office, she found herself suddenly face to face 
 with a woman whom she had never seen before 
 a young woman, with a child in her arms. 
 
 Anne Blythe's heart sank with a strange pre- 
 monition of coming evil.
 
 IV 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 
 "The beginning of wisdom is the desire of discipline. " 
 
 WHEN Blair Fleming came home from his 
 office late in the afternoon, he found 
 awaiting him a note from Mrs. Blythe, asking that 
 he would come to see her in the evening on im- 
 portant business. 
 
 He and Mrs. Blythe had been left co-execu- 
 tors and trustees, and in consequence of this 
 summons he pondered a good deal on matters 
 connected with the Blythe estate, as he assimilated 
 a brace of chops and absorbed a modest pint of 
 claret in the grill-room of the club. 
 
 Ordinarily he looked upon business thoughts 
 at meal-times as nails in a man's coffin. He 
 made a point of dining with the dullest of his 
 fellow-clubmen rather than run the risk of slip- 
 ping into the mulling habit which neither relaxes 
 nor achieves. 
 
 To-night, however, he took a vacation from 
 5
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 51 
 
 his resolutions. He deliberately abandoned the 
 dining-room and its companionship for the soli- 
 tude which he found himself able to secure in 
 the grill-room. Why had Mrs. Blythe sent for 
 him? was his first questioning thought. Not 
 that he objected to the summons in fact, he 
 had intended calling this evening or to-morrow ; 
 but he knew of nothing demanding such imme- 
 diate attention, unless, as seemed not improb- 
 able, she wished to announce her coming mar- 
 riage and to seek his advice as to her rights 
 under the will. Fleming suspected that she 
 had some cause to fear friction, as Yates had the 
 reputation downtown of being a difficult man to 
 deal with. Indeed, this reputation of his as a 
 hard business man had led Fleming to anticipate 
 some suggestion of protest against the will, and 
 he often wondered if Yates and his sister were 
 planning anything of the kind. Perhaps Yates 
 had in mind the possibility of marrying Mrs. 
 Blythe himself. That had not occurred to 
 Fleming's mind before ; but, once admitted, it 
 offered many possibilities. The question of most 
 interest then would become, What were Mrs. 
 Blythe's views'? He hoped that this evening 
 would carry some enlightenment on the subject, 
 and he looked forward with interest and amused 
 curiosity to the coming interview.
 
 52 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 It was nine o'clock when he reached the 
 house. He found Mrs. Blythe waiting for him 
 in the library. A twisted dragon in Japanese 
 bronze held up a softly shaded electric lamp on 
 the study table, and a low fire flamed on the 
 hearth, sputtering now and then as if in anger at 
 the damp chill of the evening outside. 
 
 Fleming noticed as he entered that Mrs. 
 Blythe was looking pale and worn and worried 
 in spite of the forced smile with which she rose 
 to greet him. There was no suggestion of bridal 
 happiness, no blushes; rather a preoccupation so 
 deep as to be scarcely broken by Fleming's en- 
 trance. It was with an evident effort that she 
 compelled herself to the opening civilities of 
 greeting. 
 
 " I am sorry to trouble you with business in 
 your evening hours " 
 
 " Not at all ; I had intended to come before I 
 had your note. You have read the will I sent 
 you?" 
 
 "Thank you. Yes, I have read the will." 
 
 " It is an unusual will in fact, confidentially, 
 let me say it is a beastly will. I tried my best 
 to induce Mr. Blythe to draw it differently; but he 
 was not easy to influence, as you perhaps know." 
 
 Anne shrugged her shoulders. Alas! did she 
 not know it only too well *?
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 53 
 
 "That clause in regard to your marrying " 
 
 " Never mind," said Anne, wearily ; " I have 
 no intention of marrying, so it all makes very 
 little difference to me." 
 
 "Ah," thought Fleming, "so the Yates mar- 
 riage is not a live hypothesis." 
 
 " Pardon me, Mrs. Blythe," he said aloud, 
 " but this is a matter about which I feel that I 
 must speak freely, though I realize how distaste- 
 ful it may be to you. You have done me the 
 honor to make me your counsel, and I should 
 not be doing my duty if I did not point out to 
 you all the possibilities that lie before you. It 
 is entirely natural that you should not at present 
 think of marriage as one of these possibilities ; but 
 you are a young woman, and the future may 
 hold many things " 
 
 " Not that." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but the question is whether it 
 would not be wise to put yourself in a position 
 where you are wholly free to decide the matter, 
 if it should come up, with no hampering restric- 
 tions." 
 
 Anne drew her finger-tips wearily across her 
 forehead. 
 
 " I suppose I am very dull, but I don't see 
 what you mean." 
 
 " I mean just this, and please understand that
 
 54 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 it is not my advice, but only the opening of the 
 question whether you would prefer a compromise 
 by which you agree to some sort of division with 
 Mr. Yates and his sister, and they agree to make 
 no further claim." 
 
 Anne sat up very straight. The impetuous 
 color rose in her cheeks, and the climbing fire- 
 light, touching, made it brighter still. 
 
 " I see no reason why I should give part of 
 my property to the Yateses. As for marrying, 
 I have no such intention. I have seen enough 
 of it." 
 
 Fleming, finding speech difficult, took refuge 
 in silence, looking down at the seal on his fob 
 and withdrawing himself from the situation. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe began again, with a little less em- 
 phasis : " Perhaps if I should change my mind 
 later, why, then " 
 
 Fleming shook his head. 
 
 " Yates is an obstinate man," he said, " obsti- 
 nate and shrewd. He will watch you closely, 
 and he will not hesitate to put on the screws if 
 he gets the chance." 
 
 Anne colored faintly. 
 
 " I don't think I have anything to fear from 
 Tom. Now, Eunice do you know Eunice 
 Yates at all?" 
 
 "I have met her, I think, though all I re-
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 55 
 
 member is a Madonna face and a manner that 
 matched it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Eunice would never wear a manner 
 that did n't match ; but somehow I prefer Tom 
 with all his his oh, well, you know what I 
 mean." 
 
 Fleming was good at drawing inferences, and 
 rapidly made his deductions now. 
 
 " Yates is in love with her; his sister objects. 
 Mrs. Blythe may marry him, but she 's not in 
 love." Naturally he did not put these thoughts 
 into words. He only looked his comprehension. 
 His conversation usually had an interest quite 
 apart from the thing said, in the sense of rela- 
 tions established. Anne felt it now, and yet was 
 conscious of no desire to burst into confidences 
 as she had done with Walford. There was a 
 restraint in his sympathy, as if it said: "Tell 
 me everything that I need to know, but nothing 
 for which you will be sorry afterward." 
 
 " Thank you for calling my attention to this 
 question," Anne went on in a moment. " I shall 
 take it up later. Of course, too, I should not act 
 in such a matter without your advice ; but there 
 is plenty of time to go over all that later. Just 
 now there is something more pressing, something 
 about which I feel that I must consult you at once. 
 That is my excuse for sending for you to-night."
 
 56 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Anne hesitated ; but Fleming could not help 
 her, and kept silence. At length she went on : 
 " A woman came to see me this afternoon. She 
 had a child with her. She said it was my hus- 
 band's." 
 
 A deep, painful flush swept up to Anne's 
 hair. Fleming turned away his eyes, and finally 
 rose and took a turn or two up and down the 
 room. When he came back he stood looking 
 down into the fire with his elbow on the mantel. 
 
 " Insolent ! " he murmured ; then aloud : 
 * Surely you did not waste a thought over one 
 of those impostors who make a regular business 
 of following up the funerals of rich men with 
 demands and accusations'?" 
 
 " Her story is true at least, I think so. The 
 child is like him, and she has letters " 
 
 It was spoken impassively and in one key, 
 like a lesson learned by rote. 
 
 " If it is true," Fleming's calm voice struck 
 in, " what then *? We will not believe her story 
 till it is proved to the utmost, and even then, 
 what claim has she *? " 
 
 Anne made a little gesture of dissent. 
 
 " I have said the same thing over and over to 
 myself; but her story is true, and I shall have to 
 do something." 
 
 "Of course you will wish to do your duty,'*
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 57 
 
 Fleming began ; but Anne interrupted him scorn- 
 fully: 
 
 " Duty ! I detest doing my duty. It means 
 making myself unhappy in order to make some 
 one else happy, and there 's no philosophy in 
 it, for really if only one can be happy, it might 
 as well be I as the other one." 
 
 " That seems a sound proposition." As Flem- 
 ing made this remark, he was conscious of re- 
 sisting a temptation to smile. 
 
 " Oh, I know," Anne went on, " many women 
 have to meet these things ; but, you see, I do so 
 want to be happy ! I thought at last I was go- 
 ing to be. I was happy this very afternoon ; but 
 I came in from my drive to find this woman 
 waiting for me, and ever since I 've been miser- 
 able." As she said this she leaned forward, 
 clasping her hands in her eagerness, her lips 
 apart, like a child seeking sympathy. 
 
 Fleming realized that a complication had 
 arisen. Hitherto Mrs. Blythe had been to him 
 simply a client, to be advised on the legal aspect 
 of her affairs; now he felt suddenly that he was 
 called to deal with a human soul, full of blind 
 impulses and likely to turn to him for guid- 
 ance. On the whole, he did not like it. His 
 indomitable cheerfulness had survived the draw- 
 ing of many blanks in the lottery of life ; but he
 
 58 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 had reached a point where he felt that he needed 
 all his courage for himself, and was less prodigal 
 of sympathy than he might have been ten years 
 before. " Bear ye your own burdens " was his 
 rendering of Scripture. 
 
 In his desire to shake himself free from all but 
 professional relations to the situation, he returned 
 somewhat abruptly to the subject under discussion. 
 
 " What did this woman give as her name ? " 
 
 "Jaudon Rene"e Jaudon. Her father, she 
 said, had been an officer in the French army, 
 and she had worked to support him till till 
 she met my husband." 
 
 " A familiar story ! We lawyers grow rather 
 fatigued with hearing of the superhuman virtue 
 which has always characterized the careers of 
 these women up to the time of their ' misfor- 
 tunes,' as they call them." 
 
 " Oh, I don't care anything about her, or 
 whether her story is true or false, except so far 
 as it concerns the child. I have no sympathy 
 whatever with her. No matter what her troubles 
 have been, they were of her own making." 
 
 So spoke Anne the Pharisee, quite forgetful 
 of the tears which had bedewed her handker- 
 chief and the sympathy which she had demanded 
 of Walford this afternoon for woes equally of 
 her own making.
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 59 
 
 " She asked for money, of course," said Flem- 
 ing. 
 
 " Yes ; she said it seemed hard that with a 
 great fortune like this, the grandson, the only 
 grandson," Anne laid bitter stress on the word, 
 "should have none of it that people might 
 say" 
 
 " Ah," Fleming repeated, ** * people might 
 say.' She said that, did she ? That looks as if 
 blackmail were her game. Have you made up 
 your mind what you wish to do? Have you 
 any plan ? " 
 
 " No not really. There seem to be so many 
 objections to everything. My first thought was 
 to give the woman ten thousand dollars, on con- 
 dition that I never saw her face again." 
 
 " Give a woman like that ten thousand dol- 
 lars, and you may be very sure that you would see 
 her face again as soon as the money was gone." 
 
 " Yes, and then it would n't do the child any 
 good," said Anne; "and if I have a responsi- 
 bility, it is to the child." 
 
 " As for the child," Fleming said, deliberating, 
 " I think we must get that away at once. It is 
 a powerful weapon in her hands and always to 
 be feared. The mother might be made to sign 
 papers renouncing all claim to the child; but 
 what then ? "
 
 60 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Yes," said Anne, " that 's just the question : 
 what then *? " 
 
 " I think, Mrs. Blythe," said Fleming, " that 
 this is a matter in which there is great danger 
 in haste. Naturally you are overwrought from 
 this afternoon and in no condition to come to 
 any important decision, least of all such a far- 
 reaching one as this." 
 
 Anne found a curious comfort in studying 
 Fleming as he stood there before her. In his 
 careful evening dress, with his tranquil manner 
 and his unstressed speech, he seemed a solid 
 reminder that the world was moving along in 
 the old accustomed grooves, while this afternoon 
 she had felt as if she were the victim of a cata- 
 clysm which had shaken life to its foundations. 
 
 Her nerves calmed themselves and her voice 
 returned to its normal key, as she motioned 
 Fleming to a chair, saying : 
 
 " What would you advise me to do *? " 
 
 Fleming kept silence for some time, his head 
 bent and his forehead in a meditative pucker. 
 At last he spoke : 
 
 " I cannot answer at once. I shall have to 
 think it over. Here we have been talking as if 
 everything were proved; but it is easy to be 
 cheated in such a matter. You have seen the 
 woman only once. She may have taken advan-
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 61 
 
 tage of a chance resemblance. No *? Well, at 
 least we will investigate, have her story thor- 
 oughly sifted; and if, in the end, all is as she 
 says, we may arrange some system of periodical 
 payments dependent on her silence. But two 
 things we must get from her before you give her 
 a dollar the child and the bundle of letters." 
 
 * The letters ? I don't care about them," she 
 said. 
 
 ''That again you cannot judge about to-night. 
 The time may come when you will care, and she 
 will surely use them to annoy you ; but I will 
 see to that. " 
 
 " Thank you. You are very good." 
 
 " Good ? Not at all. Remember one thing, 
 my dear Mrs. Blythe : I am here to meet all the 
 disagreeable things which may need to be said or 
 done. That is what you have me for. As for 
 this this person, it is not decent that you should 
 have to talk with her, and you need n't ; I am sure 
 you need n't, except for some necessary signing of 
 papers, perhaps, at the end. Send her to me, and 
 don't worry." 
 
 Anne held out her hand cordially as Fleming 
 rose to take leave, and there was a distinctly per- 
 sonal note in her voice as she bade him good night. 
 
 Fleming, on his part, had an equally keen 
 consciousness of new relations established, and
 
 62 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 he was by no means wholly pleased. Why had 
 he told her not to worry? he asked himself. 
 Why should n't she worry? And why should 
 she, a grown woman, put in this ridiculous claim 
 against Fate for happiness? Probably the thing 
 she needed most was a taste of unhappiness, a 
 sharp experience to show her what life really 
 was to nine tenths of humanity. Some great 
 sorrow might stir the depths ; but, poor thing, no 
 one likes muddy waters any better because it is 
 an angel who has troubled them, and one could 
 see that Mrs. Blythe would make a hard fight 
 before she submitted to any discipline involving 
 unhappiness. Perhaps a great affection now 
 if this child had been hers 
 
 Here Fleming's thoughts drifted off to the 
 legal aspects of the situation, on which he pon- 
 dered as he strolled toward his club through the 
 fine drizzle of rain which had taken the place of 
 the balmy weather of the daytime. 
 
 They would be very lucky, he decided, if this 
 woman, this Renee Jaudon, were satisfied to pro- 
 claim herself Blythe's mistress. Of course the 
 scandal would be unpleasant for Mrs. Blythe, 
 particularly if she had social aspirations ; but if 
 the woman undertook to claim a common-law 
 marriage and set it previous to Mrs. Blythe's, 
 then there would be an awkwardness.
 
 THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM 63 
 
 So intent was he on his thoughts that he found 
 himself under the nose of a cab-horse at the 
 crossing, and saved himself only by reaching up 
 and jerking violently at the bridle. The cabman 
 swore at his inattention; but he paid little heed, 
 and fell again into considering the question of 
 Mrs. Blythe's marriage. Her denial of any such 
 intention counted for very little in his mind. She 
 was charming, therefore sure to have lovers; she 
 was sympathetic and impressionable, therefore 
 sure to respond to the love of some one of them. 
 The question was, Who would it be Yates *? 
 
 At present that looked impossible. But Flem- 
 ing was accustomed to seeing impossible mar- 
 riages take place ; moreover, the bluff and burly 
 bearing of a man like Yates might in time im- 
 press a high-strung, nervous organization like 
 Mrs. Blythe's by the mere law of opposite attrac- 
 tions. Of course such a marriage would be the 
 end of any development for her. 
 
 Never did a philosopher speak truer word 
 than that a woman's life is made by the love 
 which she accepts. If Mrs. Blythe accepted 
 Yates's, it was easy to fancy her, at middle age, 
 one of those women who find the provincial suc- 
 cesses of social New York soul-satisfying. It 
 would be a pity, Fleming thought, for that quick 
 flash of intelligence in her eye told of limitless
 
 64 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 capacity of response to influence. If it could 
 only be the right influence ! 
 
 Then he ran over in his mind the men of his 
 acquaintance, searching who might be the one 
 for Anne Blythe's husband. As rapidly as sug- 
 gested, they were rejected, and he found himself 
 driven back upon an ideal. This man of his 
 imagination, he decided, should have youth and 
 buoyancy and temperament, but under all a firm 
 substratum of common sense and balance. That 
 was what Mrs. Blythe needed more than any- 
 thing else, balance But what would she do 
 about the child? Here his speculations ended 
 as he furled his umbrella at the steps of the 
 club.
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 
 
 " The past it clean forgot 
 The present is and is not, 
 The future *i a sealed seed-plot, 
 And what betwixt them are we ?'* 
 
 THE weather was hot and sultry, hinting of 
 August, though it was only the middle 
 of June. A gentle breath of air from the river 
 tempered the heat on the pier where the steamer, 
 on which Mrs. Blythe and her uncle had taken 
 passage, was making ready for her outward trip. 
 The surface of the water was of mirrorlike 
 smoothness. It was hard to realize that the 
 vexed Atlantic was tumbling outside the bar of 
 Sandy Hook. 
 
 Everything was bustle and confusion at the 
 dock and on the vessel, except among the vet- 
 eran travelers to whom an ocean steamer had 
 come to seem only a ferryboat plying between 
 commonplace and commonplace. Bishop Alston 
 
 65
 
 66 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 was one of these; but to Mrs. Blythe the delight 
 of travel had not yet been dulled by the com- 
 monizing touch of long experience. To her the 
 steamer was like some live creature, a Europa's 
 bull bearing her to enchanted shores where Span- 
 ish castles rose on every cliff. 
 
 Just now she was standing by the rail on the 
 upper deck with Blair Fleming, who held a 
 bundle of papers in his hand. 
 
 " Here are the letters," he said. " I secured 
 them only this morning. I did not like to take 
 the risk of sending them, so I brought them my- 
 self." 
 
 Mrs. Blythe made no motion to take them 
 from Fleming's outstretched hand. 
 
 " I shall ask of you one more favor," she said. 
 
 " You have only to name it." 
 
 " Burn them for me." 
 
 Fleming looked down in some embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 " Pardon me, but as a measure of protection 
 they should be read first. It is only common 
 prudence." 
 
 " I cannot do it," Mrs. Blythe answered, with 
 emphasis. " I simply cannot. Would it be 
 asking too much that you that some one 
 should do it for me?" 
 
 Fleming looked up gravely.
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 67 
 
 " I will do it, if it is your wish." 
 
 " I never can thank you enough ! For me it 
 would be like pouring vinegar into a wound. 
 Oh, you don't know you can't!" 
 
 Fleming felt that he would have been glad to 
 follow Dick Blythe to Tartarus for the privilege 
 of inflicting corporal punishment; but he could 
 not put his feelings into words, so he said 
 nothing. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe drew a long breath. 
 
 " I have one very unfortunate possession," she 
 said. 
 
 " And that is ? " 
 
 " An excellent memory." Then after a pause, 
 " It is so easy to forgive when you have for- 
 gotten ! " 
 
 "Perhaps," said Fleming, looking carefully 
 away from Anne and fixing his eyes on the New 
 Jersey shore " perhaps it is easier to forget 
 when we have forgiven." 
 
 Anne heard him absently. 
 
 " Sometimes," she said, with a sigh, " the past 
 seems just as the dark used to when I was a small 
 child. That is one reason why I am so glad to 
 get away from America." 
 
 " But Europe is all past" 
 
 " Not my past ! " 
 
 "No." 
 
 3
 
 68 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " And that makes all the difference." 
 
 " I suppose it does. I had n't thought of 
 that." 
 
 Mrs. Blythe was silent for a while, watching 
 the crowd thronging over the gangway. At last 
 she said, as if going on with a subject which she 
 could not dismiss from her mind: 
 
 " Was the girl's story true ? " 
 
 " Substantially, so far as I can trace it. She 
 supported her father by working in a book- 
 bindery supplied with leather by Mr. Blythe's 
 firm." 
 
 " I can imagine the rest," said Anne, with a 
 tremble in her voice. " And did she make any 
 difficulties over the settlement ? " 
 
 Fleming shook his head with cynical empha- 
 sis. "Two hundred dollars a month for three 
 years seems to her a fortune, and she is more 
 than willing, in consideration of it, to renounce 
 all claims. As to parting with the child, it does 
 not seem to trouble her. You see, that enables 
 her to go back to her father, who fancies that she 
 has been in France all these years." 
 
 "And the child?" 
 
 " Everything is arranged as you desired. It is 
 to be cared for by the Sisters of St. Clara for a 
 year, and at the end of that time you are to 
 decide what shall be done with it. They con-
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 69 
 
 sidered the terms which you offered liberal; but 
 they stipulated that they should have no responsi- 
 bility after the end of the year." 
 
 *' Well, well," exclaimed Anne, shaking her 
 head like a thoroughbred horse teased beyond 
 endurance by some pestilent insect, " let us for- 
 get about it ! A year is a long time. Perhaps 
 the child may die." 
 
 Fleming wished that she had not said it, and 
 then wondered why he cared. Looking up, he 
 saw Stuart Walford waiting his opportunity for 
 a word with Mrs. Blythe. At the same moment 
 Bishop Alston approached from the opposite 
 direction, holding by the arm a white-haired 
 clergyman. Walford and Fleming withdrew. 
 
 " Here is Dr. Milner, Anne, come to see us 
 off," the Bishop said, advancing. 
 
 " How very good in you ! But you don't 
 look well enough to have come," Anne ex- 
 claimed, moving forward toward the aged rector. 
 
 Milner was a striking man still, and looked 
 handsome even standing as he was in contrast to 
 Mrs. Blythe's radiant youthfulness. The beauty 
 of youth is an ivory type, all curves and color- 
 ing ; the beauty of age is an etching bitten out 
 by the acids of time and experience. 
 
 " Yes, Milner," the Bishop said, repeating 
 Anne's words, " you don't look fit to stand the
 
 yo FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 heat here. Why don't you run across the water 
 yourself this summer ? It will not do to neglect 
 your health. A stitch in time, you know." 
 
 ** But I have so many stitches loose and so 
 little time left ! " answered Milner, rather sadly. 
 " My doctor does not speak encouragingly. But 
 no matter. One more or less does not count 
 except to himself. If I am not better by next 
 summer, I shall give up my work permanently, 
 and then it will be time to talk of rest and 
 Europe." 
 
 " I don't like to hear you speak in that way," 
 the Bishop answered gravely. " You are one 
 of the important men. We can't do without 
 you." 
 
 Milner smiled. " After all, flattery can 'soothe 
 the dull, cold ear of death,' " he answered, " and 
 I should like to think at the end that I was being 
 missed by a few. I believe, however, that I have 
 found the man to take up my work when I leave 
 it, and carry it further than I could ever do. He 
 is very young; but he has the promise and po- 
 tency of a career in him. By the way, I owe 
 him to you, Bishop." 
 
 "Is it Stuart Walford?" 
 
 At her uncle's question, Anne looked up 
 quickly and waited for Dr. Milner's reply. 
 
 " Yes, it is Stuart Walford. I have been
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 71 
 
 pushing him forward in all directions, giving 
 him a chance to show what he is good for, and 
 he improves every opportunity. It seems in- 
 credible that a young, untried man could do 
 what he has done, and in less than a year at that. 
 In fact, I have no hesitation in predicting a 
 brilliant future for him." 
 
 " Really ? " said the Bishop. 
 
 "Yes, really. He is an eloquent preacher 
 already, not on the curate order at all. He has 
 force, magnetism, and the organizing power 
 which we need more than anything else in 
 the church to-day. He may accomplish great 
 things if " 
 
 " If what *? " asked Mrs. Blythe, suddenly. 
 
 " Pardon me, Mrs. Blythe, when I say if the 
 women will let him alone. He is young and 
 handsome, and they find it easy to slide into 
 a sympathetic, confidential relation with their 
 spiritual adviser. I don't know that it does them 
 any harm, but I am not sure whether his head is 
 strong enough to stand it." 
 
 Anne had seen Mr. Walford several times since 
 that first interview, and she realized that the con- 
 versation on each occasion had been distinctly 
 sympathetic and confidential. 
 
 " Is Walford an ambitious man ? " the Bishop 
 asked.
 
 72 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "He has never spoken at least not to me 
 of any definite ambition, but I can see that he 
 craves influence, perhaps all of us do, and he 
 said the other day that he thought the rector of 
 a great New York church occupied the most 
 desirable position in the world. He would be 
 quite satisfied with that, he said." 
 
 " Oh, he did ! " the Bishop began, when Mil- 
 ner said, " Here he is now." And turning, Anne 
 saw Walford still standing near the head of the 
 gangway. He hesitated for an instant before 
 joining the group. 
 
 For some reason it embarrassed him to meet 
 these three people together, perhaps because his 
 temperament was sensitive and he was aware 
 of a complex relation, somewhat imcompatible 
 and demanding different treatment. Dr. Milner 
 turned to talk with Anne, and left Walford to 
 explain to the Bishop how surprised he had been 
 to learn of his connection with Mrs. Blythe and 
 how deeply he appreciated and always should 
 appreciate the kindness which the Bishop had 
 shown him. 
 
 "And your resolution does it still hold 
 firm *? " asked the Bishop, and suddenly remem- 
 bered that he had desired Walford to say nothing 
 on the subject to him till the eighteen months 
 had expired.
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 73 
 
 " There is my man ! " he exclaimed, glad of" 
 an escape from the subject. " He is mounting 
 guard over my rug and steamer-chair. If you 
 will excuse me, I '11 go and show him where to 
 place them." 
 
 As the Bishop moved away, Milner was 
 making his adieus to Anne, and Walford took 
 possession of the vacant place by her side. 
 
 " You are planning to be gone for a year." 
 
 " Almost that, I fancy." 
 
 " A year is a long time." 
 
 . " To look ahead, yes ; but when we look back 
 it seems a mere nothing perhaps because all 
 the unimportant things drop out." 
 
 " And the unimportant people, too ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but it is hard to tell who the unim- 
 portant people are. Importance is such a varia- 
 ble quantity." 
 
 " Can people make themselves important to 
 you ? " Walford spoke low and with a vibrant 
 intensity. 
 
 " I must first of all feel that I am important to 
 them." 
 
 " Then I need not ask you not to forget me." 
 
 " I shall remember you as long well, certainly 
 as long as the fragrance of these violets lasts." 
 
 It was a deft allusion, for the flowers which 
 she wore had been sent by Walford.
 
 74 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " But in a year the fragrance will be gone, and 
 the violets withered, and your friends perhaps 
 forgotten." 
 
 " Yes," said Anne, with a smile of doubtful 
 interpretation; "but then I shall come back, 
 and I shall have a chance to find out your im- 
 portance all over again. That is one of the de- 
 lights of travel to come home and rediscover 
 one's friends." 
 
 Walford colored. He felt that he must open 
 his heart to her; must tell her that when she 
 came back she would find his place empty ; that 
 never again in all the world should they stand 
 as they were standing now, face to face, eye to 
 eye. Then there flashed before him that picture 
 in the Blythe drawing-room, and he deeply com- 
 prehended the sensations of the young novice so 
 soon to be dead to the world. 
 
 He gathered his courage and opened his lips 
 to speak ; but Anne had mistaken the motive of 
 the silence he had allowed to fall between them. 
 He thought her ungrateful for the sympathy that 
 he had shown her. She could not go away leav- 
 ing him under that impression. She raised her 
 eyes full to his, and said softly : " I have more 
 than violets to thank you for : I assure you I can 
 never forget all I have owed to you in these last 
 few weeks. I shall never cease to be grateful."
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 75- 
 
 "Don't talk of gratitude, please don't not 
 from you to me ! " 
 
 Walford had moved closer to Mrs. Blythe as 
 he spoke, and had taken her hand impulsively 
 in his. 
 
 " Anne," broke in the Bishop's voice, " I want 
 you to know Lady Hawtree Campbell. That is 
 she talking with Mr. Fleming there by the rail- 
 ing. She and her husband are on board, with 
 four of their daughters. They were very kind 
 to me when I was in Derbyshire." 
 
 44 How many daughters have they left at 
 home ? " asked Anne, petulantly. 
 
 " Hush ! they will hear you. That is one of 
 them with the dog in her arms and her hair tum- 
 bling down." 
 
 " Oh, is it *? Well, why won't there be plenty 
 of time for us to meet on our way across the 
 ocean ? However, if I must, I must. Will you 
 come too, Mr. Walford ? " 
 
 " No ; I 'd rather say good-by now, though I 
 shall wait on the pier till you are fairly off." 
 With this Walford touched her hand again, but 
 more lightly, bowed to Bishop Alston, and was 
 gone, Anne's eyes following him until he was 
 quite out of sight and lost in the crowd. 
 
 " By the way," said the Bishop, " here 's a note 
 for you. A messenger just left it with me."
 
 76 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Anne took the note and had no difficulty in 
 recognizing the large commercial hand. 
 
 " DEAR ANNE [it ran] : It 's a hustling day, and 
 I may not get down to the ship, though I shall 
 make a try for it. I send you a box of wine, 
 with best wishes for a good voyage. May your 
 boat never run her nose into the fog, or anything 
 else except the dock on the other side ! 
 
 " Yours with as much love as you will accept, 
 
 " T. R. YATES." 
 
 " Poor Tom ! " said Anne, with a deprecating 
 shrug, as she thrust the note into her chatelaine 
 bag and moved across the deck to Lady Camp- 
 bell. Despite her annoyance at the interruption 
 of her talk with Walford, she took one of her 
 sudden likings to this badly gowned, well-look- 
 ing Englishwoman with the charming voice and 
 the restful absence of emphasis. Lady Camp- 
 bell, on her side, was so pleased with Fleming 
 that it required quite a minute for Anne to secure 
 her attention, which, curiously enough, raised 
 Fleming in that inconsistent young woman's 
 esteem. She turned to him with her most cor- 
 dial manner and asked if they might not hope to 
 see him on the other side. 
 
 " I have no such agreeable expectations at
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 79 
 
 present," Fleming answered, " but every one does 
 turn up over there sooner or later, and the winter 
 winds often drive me to seek shelter somewhere 
 from this pitiless climate of ours." 
 
 " We shall hope to meet you, then," Anne 
 went on, " let us say in Rome, or, better still, in 
 Florence. We expect to take a villa there in 
 the spring and shall welcome any of our friends 
 who will come. I shall spend all my time this 
 winter learning enough Italian to speak with my 
 maids. What 's that ? The whistle ? " 
 
 Fleming made hasty adieus and hurried along 
 the gangway to the pier below, which had before 
 been a scene of wild confusion and now had 
 become all at once a section of pandemonium. 
 Men and women threaded their way under the 
 noses of the horses; boxes and barrels were 
 thrown this way and that ; ropes creaked, men 
 shouted, tugs whistled. Then slowly the steamer 
 moved out, the tugs hauled .their lines taut, the 
 huge stern swung round, and the voyage had 
 begun. 
 
 Anne stood watching the mass of cheering, 
 waving humanity on the wharf. "And all 
 those," she thought, "are 'important people* to 
 somebody." Her mood, however sentimental, 
 was exultant. Was it not happiness of which 
 she was going in search, and had she not money
 
 8o FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 in the bank to buy it"? The revolving screw 
 pounded into Mrs. Blythe's ears a happy tune. 
 It was the music of the future. 
 
 Meanwhile, among the throng on the wharf 
 who strained their eyes to catch the last glimpse 
 of the vessel, were three men whose thoughts 
 were fixed on the slender, black-gowned figure at 
 the stern. 
 
 "A year is a long time," thought Walford, 
 with a sudden pang. " I wonder if she will re- 
 member." 
 
 "A year is a long time," thought Fleming. 
 " Perhaps she will forget." 
 
 " Infernal bad luck ! " growled Tom Yates. 
 " I made a run for it; but there was a block and 
 I was too late. I hope she got my note. Did 
 she say anything about it, Fleming *? " 
 
 " Not to me ; but then I forgot to ask her." 
 
 The sarcasm was thrown away on the panting, 
 perspiring Yates. 
 
 " I say, Fleming, will you breakfast with me at 
 the Casino to-morrow about noon and go for a 
 run in my ' bubble ' afterward ? " 
 
 " Thank you, yes. I '11 go. I have nothing 
 less dull on hand." 
 
 " Dull ! I guess you Ve never been in my 
 machine." 
 
 " No, but I have been in the machine of every
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 81 
 
 other man I know, and on each occasion I have 
 spent several hours in the road holding tools, 
 while the owner or his chauffeur lay on his back 
 under the car, and then we have joyously taken 
 the trolley home. Still, I '11 go. There, that 's 
 all." 
 
 The steamer was out of sight, lost in the mist 
 which hung like a veil over the lower bay, and 
 the watchers on shore returned to their workaday 
 world. 
 
 Through the remainder of the day Fleming 
 carried in his mind the picture of Anne Blythe 
 standing there on the stern of the steamer flushed 
 and smiling. It came between him and the brief 
 on which he was working, and would not be 
 brushed away. For the first time he could 
 imagine Mrs. Blythe softly human. It was easy 
 to think of her as a woman to be admired ; might 
 it be possible to fancy her a woman to be adored? 
 Not by himself, of course, he was past all that, 
 but by some other man Stuart Walford, 
 for instance. He recalled distinctly the look in 
 Walford's eyes as he waited there for Mrs. Blythe 
 to turn. There was no mistaking its unconscious 
 self-revelation; but Mrs. Blythe's manner, that 
 was less easily read. He wondered vaguely why 
 women found it necessary to be so much less 
 simple and direct than men in their love-affairs.
 
 82 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Was it that they must always stand ready to 
 deny their love even to themselves if it were not 
 returned ? 
 
 With Mrs. Blythe, he fancied, it was not any 
 such reservation, but rather that, while willing to 
 accept a devotion which would only add prestige 
 to her present role of Queen of Fortune, she by 
 no means desired to lay down her scepter. 
 
 The man who finds enjoyment in the incon- 
 gruities of human nature has a vast fund of enter- 
 tainment always at hand, and Fleming amused 
 himself that evening by recalling all Mrs. Blythe's 
 inconsistencies and the contradictions of her 
 moods. At last, about midnight, it occurred to 
 him that Mrs. Blythe had employed him to look 
 after her legal affairs, not to be responsible for 
 her spiritual condition. 
 
 "After all," he said to himself, as he turned off 
 the light, "the key to her character will lie in 
 what she does about the child. That will tell the 
 story."
 
 VI 
 
 A TRUST 
 " Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fell. " 
 
 THE gayest place in New York of a summer 
 Sunday morning is the little Casino, which 
 sprawls like a turtle between the two Central 
 Park driveways and refuses to be wholly hideous 
 in spite of its roof of colored slate and its shape- 
 less addition. 
 
 In the wistaria-covered pergola beyond, bois- 
 terous children climb the benches, to be pulled 
 down at intervals by nurses neglectful enough 
 until their little charges begin to enjoy themselves, 
 when they interfere sharply and with the finality 
 of brief authority. 
 
 In the court between the pergola and the 
 Casino a line of motley vehicles is drawn up as 
 if on dress-parade, so close together that the cabby 
 on his hansom can talk with the footman on the 
 box of the brougham. The incongruity of the 
 equipages is no greater than that of their owners, 
 
 83
 
 84 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 who fill the tiled space in front of the build- 
 ing and look at one another across infinite spaces 
 of differing experiences. The out-of-door restau- 
 rant is studded with small tables, and sheltered 
 under a gaily striped awning from the heat of the 
 sun. Altogether the place has a distinctly foreign 
 flavor ; this gave it a charm for Fleming. More- 
 over, the food is excellent, if one can possess his 
 soul in patience for the cooking; this gave it a 
 charm for Yates. And the two men therefore 
 sat down in great comfort at a small table cozily 
 niched between the wall and railing and over- 
 looking the tiny plaza. 
 
 Yates ordered the breakfasts a plain one for 
 Fleming, whose taste was fastidiously simple ; 
 for himself an elaborate one, and such as did 
 credit to his gastronomic imagination. When 
 the waiter had gone, Fleming leaned back in his 
 chair to take in the scene around him, the obser- 
 vation of his fellows being one of his cheap and 
 constant amusements. 
 
 Yates looked up from the bulky folds of 
 the morning paper. " ' Passengers outward 
 bound may look for foggy weather till they 
 reach the Banks,' so the paper says. Hard luck 
 for Anne ! She was counting a lot on the voy- 
 age, but I '11 bet she is wishing herself ashore 
 by now."
 
 A TRUST 85 
 
 " I am afraid so. How did the market close 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 " You can see for yourself," said Yates, push- 
 ing the paper toward Fleming's side of the table. 
 
 " Thanks ; I never read the Sunday papers. 
 I see no need of making a scrap-basket of my 
 mind. But as you have been reading the stock 
 lists for the last half-hour, I should be glad of 
 your information, not to say your advice. Mrs. 
 Blythe has asked me to keep her informed as to 
 the values of certain stocks which are fluctuating 
 just now, and I shall depend very much on what 
 you think." 
 
 " Women have no business dabbling in 
 stocks," observed Yates, with the easy general- 
 izing of a narrow mind. 
 
 "Nevertheless, Mrs. Blythe, having several 
 millions involved, seems obliged to * dabble,' as 
 you call it. What else can she do *? " 
 
 " Marry ! " said Yates. " Anne ought to marry 
 and let her husband manage her millions." 
 
 Fleming was irritated. ' He resented the tone 
 of Yates's speech. He resented Yates's speaking 
 of his cousin by marriage as "Anne." His 
 irritation lent a tinge to his manner as he 
 answered : 
 
 " You seem to forget that if Mrs. Blythe mar- 
 ries she will have no millions to manage."
 
 86 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " I don't know," said Yates. " She might 
 marry me I " 
 
 "She might, and then again she might marry 
 some one else; but in that case it would be 
 within your prerogative to refrain from enforcing 
 the terms of the will." 
 
 " Now, see here, Fleming, that 's going too 
 far. I make no secret of the fact that I would 
 like to marry Anne Blythe. She knows it well 
 enough, and I don't care who else does. But if 
 she won't have me, that ends it ; after that it 's 
 pure business. Ton can see that!" 
 
 Yates leaned his arm on the table as he went 
 on. " I tell you the reason so many fellows 
 don't get on is because they mix up sentiment 
 and business. Sentiment 's a good thing and 
 business is a good thing; but they don't belong 
 together." 
 
 " It seems not, certainly," Fleming answered 
 nonchalantly. 
 
 At this point the long-delayed breakfast ap- 
 peared and was set upon the table. As Yates 
 took up his knife and fork he resumed his con- 
 versation. 
 
 ** If a man wants to succeed he must keep his 
 head clear for business and turn his life into 
 cash. He must talk money, think money, dream 
 money. And, after all, there 's nothing like it."
 
 A TRUST 87 
 
 " Nothing like it, perhaps," Fleming answered, 
 " but a good many things better worth having." 
 
 " I don't think so." 
 
 '* Well, I should be glad not to think so my- 
 self. It certainly has many advantages : in the 
 first place, it 's so easy to get." 
 
 " Is it, indeed ? " 
 
 "Why, yes; you have only to make a lucky 
 turn in Wall Street or lose a maiden aunt, and 
 there you are. You can step out next day 
 and buy your racers, hire your servants, order 
 your wines, and be as good as any millionaire in 
 the country ; but, after all, what of it '? " 
 
 " Well," said Yates, leaning back in his chair 
 and jingling the change in his pockets, " it may 
 be as you say. Only, if it is, please tell me why 
 the college presidents are all angling for money. 
 Why are the churches tumbling over one an- 
 other to secure a rich parishioner *? Who is it 
 that the dukes and princes want to see when 
 they come over from the other side *? I '11 tell 
 you : it 7 s the men who have made their pile." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Fleming; "but there was a 
 man named Abraham Lincoln who never made 
 any pile except a pile of rails, and yet he seems 
 to have amounted to something and to have 
 found life worth while without money." 
 
 " Well, there was a man named Anatole Jau-
 
 88 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 don who shot himself yesterday morning because 
 he did not find life worth while without money." 
 
 " What is that ? " Fleming exclaimed, drop- 
 ping the lazy indifference with which he had been 
 conducting the conversation. " What was that 
 name you used ? " 
 
 " Anatole Jaudon. Did you know him *? " 
 
 " I have heard of him. What do you say 
 happened ? " 
 
 " He killed himself. Here is the account in 
 the paper. You can read it for yourself, unless 
 you are afraid of turning your mind into a scrap- 
 basket." 
 
 Fleming took the proffered paper and read 
 hastily: 
 
 Anatole Jaudon, formerly a lieutenant of the French army, 
 killed himself yesterday at his boarding-house in Morton 
 Street. For several years he had lived on remittances sent him 
 by his daughter in France. Recently these had failed; but a 
 week ago he received a letter promising money on Saturday. 
 He rose early yesterday morning to watch for the postman; 
 but when the carrier passed the door without stopping, Jaudon 
 drew a revolver and shot himself. The carrier turned back as 
 the shot was fired. There was a letter, with a double remit- 
 tance. The body, unless claimed, will be sent to the morgue. 
 
 "Come," said Yates, impatiently, "stop read- 
 ing ! Finish your coffee and let us start. Shall 
 it be Pelham or the Bronx ? "
 
 A TRUST 89 
 
 " What was that you were saying, Yates ? 
 Would I rather go to Pelham Park or the 
 Bronx ? I don't know. In fact, I think I must 
 give up both. I know friends of this Jaudon, 
 and I ought to notify them before the body is 
 carried to the morgue. Perhaps you will be 
 good enough to take me to the elevated road." 
 
 Yates looked at Fleming in surprise, then he 
 sulkily ordered his automobile. He did not 
 enjoy having his outing spoiled in this fashion. 
 His annoyance found vent in the jerk with which 
 he started his machine, and its headlong speed as 
 he made the curve from the Casino to the main 
 drive, and again where the drive intersects the 
 cross-road below the Mall. 
 
 At this point he almost ran down a pedestrian, 
 who saved himself by jumping backward. As 
 he did so, both men recognized him, and Yates 
 brought the automobile to a sudden halt. 
 
 "Well met, Mr. Walford!" he called out. 
 " Fleming, here, promised to go with me on a 
 drive ; but he has changed his mind, and I am 
 left all alone, like the girl in the song, unless 
 you will take his place." 
 
 " Thank you," said Walford, who had not 
 forgiven the indignity of his sudden jump, "but 
 I have been called to see some one at the Pres- 
 byterian Hospital. I am on my way there now."
 
 90 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Sorry ! " said Yates, shortly, and started ahead 
 again, at full speed. 
 
 Walford stood for a moment looking disap- 
 provingly at the flying vehicle. He could not 
 have explained why it struck him as more in- 
 decorous to travel fast than slowly on Sunday, 
 and yet he felt that it was out of harmony with 
 the tranquillity which should rule the Sabbath ; 
 ani then to run people down like that was 
 neither safe nor courteous. There was only one 
 thing which could have tempted him to accept 
 Yates's invitation : that was the chance of hear- 
 ing some word of a person who had been much 
 in his thoughts of late, almost to the exclusion of 
 all other thoughts, in fact. It is needless to say 
 that the name of the person was Anne Blythe. 
 
 Anne Blythe ! The words sent the blood 
 coursing faster through Walford's veins and set 
 his pulses to beating. He seemed to see her 
 again, standing on the deck of the steamer, his vio- 
 lets pinned at her breast, her eyes smiling into his. 
 
 Here a swift revulsion of feeling followed his 
 elation. What right had he to be dallying with 
 thoughts of love ? No priest of the Roman 
 Church could be more chained to celibacy than 
 he. Could he for an instant imagine weighting 
 himself with a wife in such a service of sorrow 
 and death as lay before him? Even if, by a
 
 A TRUST 91 
 
 wild flight of fancy, he could imagine himself 
 taking a wife, was there a woman in the wide 
 world so absurdly unfitted to the situation as 
 Anne Blythe ? 
 
 He pictured himself telling her of his plans 
 and asking her to share them. Memory showed 
 him the deprecating gesture with which she had 
 met his suggestion of mission work. He could 
 fancy the ironical smile with which she would 
 greet the unfolding of his schemes for the 
 future. He should make himself ridiculous in 
 her eyes. At this thought the hot blood flamed 
 over Walford's face. Up to this time he had 
 seen his mission only in the light of exalted self- 
 sacrifice and solemn consecration. Now, of a 
 sudden, he comprehended that it might strike 
 practical minds as quixotic and fanatical. 
 
 With such emotions surging in his mind 
 Walford took little account of distances, and 
 it was almost of their own guidance that his feet 
 stopped at the door of the hospital which rises 
 big and bare above Park Avenue. Walford 
 looked up at it uncomprehendingly for a mo- 
 ment, and then, suddenly recalling his errand, he 
 pulled the bell sharply and asked to see the nurse 
 in charge. She came to him in the little recep- 
 tion-room, and he told her as briefly as he could 
 the story of his coming. A message had been
 
 92 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 received at the rectory saying that a very sick 
 woman wished to see the rector, and Dr. Milner 
 being absent, he had come as a substitute. 
 
 "Yes, I know; it was I who sent the mes- 
 senger. A young woman was brought here yes- 
 terday suffering from collapse not likely to 
 live beyond to-morrow, we think. The doctor 
 called it a case of heat-prostration, and the sun 
 was very hot, you remember, yesterday." 
 
 " Yes, I remember it well." 
 
 " Of course that may be all that 's the matter 
 with her; but I think she 's had some shock to 
 her mind. She 's been moaning ever since they 
 found her wandering in the streets yesterday 
 evening, and all night she was talking French 
 by fits and starts. This morning she could give 
 her name ; but her heart is weaker. The doctor 
 does n't want her excited, but she begged so 
 hard to send for some one that he thought it 
 would be better to let her have her own way. 
 First she wanted to see a Mr. Blair Fleming, but 
 she could only give his office address. We 
 begged her to wait and see him to-morrow; but 
 she said she must see some one to-day, and 
 after thinking awhile she asked, ' Is there a 
 Church of St. Simeon?' 
 
 " ' Yes,' I said. ' I was there once. I remem- 
 ber the candles.' "
 
 A TRUST 93 
 
 Then, she said, she would like to see the rector ; 
 and she would give us no peace till we sent. 
 
 " What is the young woman's name *? " Wai- 
 ford asked. 
 
 " Renee Jaudon, and it 's my belief that she 
 is related to the man who shot himself yesterday 
 in Morton Street. But I must n't keep you wait- 
 ing. Will you come up with me now?" 
 
 Walford followed up the wide stairway to the 
 open door of a ward where a line of white beds 
 stood side by side in what looked, at first, like 
 an endless row. The nurse pointed to a bed 
 which seemed quite alone, because its neighbors 
 had no occupants. Walford approached softly, 
 watching a white face with closed eyelids. As 
 he drew near, the eyes slowly opened. 
 
 " Monsieur is the cure, what you call the rector, 
 of St. Simeon's?" 
 
 The voice that spoke was weak, and Walford 
 was obliged to lean over to catch the words. 
 
 " I am not the rector. He is away. I am his 
 assistant. I thought I might be better than no 
 one at least, I could take a message. You 
 will trust me *? " 
 
 There was a note in Walford's voice which 
 was neither to be repelled nor denied. 
 
 " Trust you, monsieur *? Oh, but yes, I trust 
 you ! I am going to die is it not ? "
 
 94 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " You are very ill." 
 
 " Yes, I know. I have been not good, and 
 when the sun was so hot and I sank down in 
 the street, I said, *See, Renee, God is angry 
 against you/ They lifted me up and brought 
 me here. At first they thought I would get 
 well ; but God was angry, et il rfy avait pas moyen. 
 Before I die there is a something I must do. 
 There is a letter. I kept it back when I sold the 
 rest. I might have had need of the money, and 
 this would have brought it; but now that makes 
 nothing. God is angry against, me. My father 
 is dead. I saw it in the paper yesterday. Will 
 you give back the letter for me ? " 
 
 "Surely I will, if you tell me to whom." 
 
 The girl tried to sit up, but finding herself too 
 weak, sank back on the pillow and gasped for 
 breath; yet she laid a detaining hand on the 
 sleeve of Walford's coat, fearing he would go if 
 she slipped into unconsciousness. 
 
 Walford answered as if she had spoken. " I 
 will not leave you till you have told me all. 
 Take plenty of time." 
 
 At last she began again. 
 
 " I tried to see Monsieur Fleming." 
 
 " Yes," said Walford, striving to help her. " I 
 know him. He is a lawyer. You wished to see 
 him perhaps about some business ? "
 
 A TRUST 95 
 
 " Yes, it was that. He was kind, Monsieur 
 Fleming, yet I had fear of him. He was so 
 right ! When I heard that he was not at his 
 house, I thought, * Good ; now there is no need 
 that he know.' " 
 
 " Whose letter is it that you have kept ? " 
 
 " This is why I sent for you : because I knew 
 Madame Blythe went to monsieur's church." 
 
 " Do you mean Mrs. Richard Blythe ? " 
 
 "Out! Oui! It is for her. She hates me 
 I do not mind. She has fear of me I am glad. 
 But I forget." 
 
 The weak hand moved upward to the pillow 
 and drew out a folded sheet of paper, soiled 
 along the edges and in the creases, as if with 
 long carrying. 
 
 " For her ! " the woman exclaimed, with the 
 force of excitement in her tone. " Only for her ! 
 You will give it ? " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " Not send give ! " 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " That is all. Thank you. Au revrir." 
 
 The ghost of a smile trembled along the pale 
 lips and was gone. 
 
 " The ten minutes arc over," said the nurse, 
 coming up. 
 
 Walford took the dying girl's hand in his.
 
 96 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "You have my promise," he said. "Shall I 
 come to see you again *? When you are stronger, 
 I might pray with you." 
 
 "No, no; I will have a priest of my own 
 church. Adieu, monsieur" 
 
 There were tears in Walford's eyes as he 
 walked down the corridor and out into the street. 
 The heavy door closed behind him. He looked 
 up at the brick pile stretching from avenue to 
 avenue, equipped with every life-saving appa- 
 ratus, and he thought how little it all availed, 
 how powerless, after all, was every human aid 
 when death must conquer in the end. 
 
 I say he thought all this. It would be truer 
 to say he put himself through this course of 
 thought, for all the time his subliminal conscious- 
 ness was occupied with that letter in his pocket, 
 against which his heart was beating heavily. 
 
 " Mrs. Blythe what had this girl to do with 
 her *? ' Not good ' was not that what Renee 
 Jaudon had said of herself? No ; one could 
 see that. The history of her past life was written 
 in her face. How had this letter come into her 
 hands, and what had it to do with Anne Blythe ? 
 Why had Mrs. Blythe bought the others ? Was 
 she afraid ? Good heavens ! Anne Blythe 
 afraid 1 ? Absurd on the very face of it; and 
 yet "
 
 A TRUST 97 
 
 Walford walked rapidly in spite of the heat ; 
 but when he reached Fifth Avenue he crossed 
 the street and sank down on the stone bench 
 from over which the head of Hunt keeps watch 
 upon his work across the way. Waiford sat va- 
 cantly staring at the mass of gray masonry. He 
 seemed to see nothing, yet afterward he remem- 
 bered every detail the curving driveway in 
 front, the high doorway, the bald windows, 
 and the heavy cornice. Yet all the time his 
 mind was hammering at the old thought: 
 " What is it to Anne Blythe ? How does it 
 concern her? " 
 
 He was aware that his forehead was wet. He 
 drew out his handkerchief to wipe off the drops 
 of sweat. As he did so, the letter fell out of his 
 pocket and lay half open on the flags at his feet. 
 As he stooped to pick it up, his eye almost un- 
 consciously took in these words: "Yates is in 
 love with my wife, and she " Here the writing 
 ended at the foot of the page. Walford turned 
 white. Who was " my wife " ? Did that refer 
 to Anne ? It spoke only of Yates. That did 
 not in itself cast any reflection on her ; but that 
 broken sentence he must and would know 
 how it ended. Then he seemed to hear again 
 the dying girl's voice in his ear: 
 
 "Trust you, monsieur? Oh, but yes! "
 
 98 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Yet, he reasoned, this might be interpreted in 
 another way. It might mean that she trusted 
 him with full knowledge in the matter. How 
 much more wisely he could carry himself toward 
 Mrs. Blythe if he only knew if he only knew ! 
 But no he could not. 
 
 He rose, thrust the letter back into his pocket, 
 and walked on faster than ever till he came to 
 an opening in the stone wall which separated the 
 street from the park. He entered and mechani- 
 cally took a turn which brought him to a high 
 rock topped by a summer-house under a spread- 
 ing maple-tree. Here he sat down again, and 
 again he resumed the mental struggle. This 
 time he told himself that it would be wrong for 
 him to go through life harboring a suspicion 
 without foundation a suspicion which might 
 poison his whole life and blast his future ; for he 
 no longer attempted to deny that he held a per- 
 sonal stake in the character of Anne Blythe. 
 
 The riddle had been thrust into his hand; he 
 had not sought it ; but given the riddle, the an- 
 swer must be read, or he should go mad. Indeed, 
 he felt the veins of his forehead swelling in the 
 heat, and he hastily loosened the tight collar 
 which bound his neck. 
 
 The voice within urged constantly: 
 
 " Read ! Read ! "
 
 A TRUST 99 
 
 He resisted; he set his teeth; he shut his 
 eyes; but still the voice went on : "Read ! Read! 
 Just one word only one word ! " At length, 
 with a gasp, he drew out the letter, swiftly turned 
 the page, and read: "w like the rest of you" At 
 the foot of the page was the name of Richard 
 Blythe. 
 
 " I have been not good," the girl in the hos- 
 pital had said; "and she is like you," Anne's 
 husband had written. What did it mean *? 
 
 Walford's education stood him in poor stead 
 at this crisis. His sympathies were alive to any 
 appeal ; his emotions responded like an aeolian 
 harp to every gust of feeling; but his reason had 
 not been trained to sift evidence, to weigh prob- 
 abilities, to test statements. He was liable to 
 accept hastily and without due consideration any 
 conclusion which he either supremely desired or 
 dreaded. 
 
 He instinctively saw life in high lights and 
 deep shadows. It was easier for him to believe 
 the worst than to hold his judgment in suspense, 
 to wait and question Time, the great revealer. 
 
 Yet, even for him, it was difficult to plunge 
 so suddenly from devotion to doubt. Anne's 
 image was still set in that shrine where a man 
 places only the woman whom he both loves and 
 honors. He could not all at once cast it out.
 
 ioo FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 But he asked himself how he should feel if this 
 awful thing were true; how she would feel if she 
 knew that he knew. It was too terrible to be 
 considered, and yet he considered it. He began 
 to picture her look when he handed her that 
 letter. He framed the sentences which he would 
 speak in answer to her self-exculpations. He 
 half formed the prayers he would offer, the final 
 absolution which his spiritual strivings should 
 earn him the supreme privilege of extending. 
 But oh for the perfect trust, the unconscious 
 confidence of an hour ago ! 
 
 "I wish I had not looked," said Wal- 
 fbrd aloud. He rose and walked unsteadily 
 away, but only for a short distance. His feet 
 faltered, and at the next unoccupied seat he sank 
 down once more, and leaning his arm across the 
 back of the bench, he bowed his head above it. 
 Memory was busy with that first interview when 
 Mrs. Blythe had poured out her confidences as 
 a volcano pours out its lava-tide when it can no 
 longer be held pent up. He wondered, in look- 
 ing back, that his suspicions had not been aroused 
 then. He ought to have seen how unnatural 
 it was for a woman in her position to rush into 
 such self-revelation ; but if there were some guilty 
 secret, not revealed, then he could understand 
 how slight her confidences might seem to herself.
 
 A TRUST 101 
 
 Was this the reason why her life with her 
 husband had been unhappy ? Was this why it 
 had been such torture to hear his father talk of 
 him ? Was this why Mr. Blythe had kept her so 
 closely at home, forbidding visitors ? This would 
 explain everything. And yet, if Mr. Blythe knew 
 of it, why did he not cut off Yates in his will? 
 No; clearly he could not have known who her 
 lover was, but that there was one he did know. 
 
 The judicial attitude is lost when a man makes 
 up his mind. After that he argues the case for 
 his opinion, and has the same interest to prove 
 his own wisdom that a lawyer has to prove his 
 client's innocence. 
 
 Memory flashed more than one searchlight on 
 the situation. Words, phrases, hints of remorse, 
 to which he had paid slight attention at the 
 time, rose before him now charged with a darker 
 significance. Had there been an attempt on her 
 part at a half confession, an appeal for sym- 
 pathy without the humiliation of an avowal of 
 her need ? Alas, it looked only too probable. 
 It fitted only too well with his reluctant suspi- 
 cions. He should be a simpleton not to believe 
 it. Yet he would hope against hope. He 
 would give her every chance to explain it. He 
 would place the letter in her hand and let 
 her read it alone. Afterward he would question
 
 102 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 her gently, as one who knows nothing. If she 
 were guiltless, God knew how he would rejoice; 
 if, on the other hand, she broke down, if she con- 
 fessed her guilt, he would stand her friend, 
 though his ideal might be shattered. He might 
 still influence her. Through him she might yet 
 be brought out of darkness into light. 
 
 " God grant it ! " Walford murmured aloud, 
 and brokenly repeated : " / wish I bad not looked"
 
 VII 
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 
 
 " Ihm ziemt ' die Welt im Inncrn ru bewegen, 
 Natur in Sich, Sich in Natur lu hegcn." 
 
 NEW YORK in July is like the circle in 
 the Inferno where each man lives in his 
 own particular little oven, and where the walls 
 cast the red glare of their heat high on the 
 clouds. But there is a worse torture reserved 
 for those who fly from the city of Dis to its 
 suburbs, whither foolish folk betake themselves 
 in order apparently to escape all the conveniences 
 of town while abating nothing of its heat. 
 
 Maxwell Newton lived on the north shore of 
 Long Island, in a Maltese cottage, one of a 
 Maltese settlement squatted close together, for 
 all the world like a family of gray cats, at un- 
 easy distance from New York, and reached with 
 equal difficulty by boat or train. Newton's 
 chief social pleasure lay in showing his house to 
 his friends. The chief satisfaction of his friends 
 
 103
 
 104 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 lay in the reflection that it did not belong to 
 them. 
 
 On Saturday evening Blair Fleming alighted 
 at the Newton cottage before the mosquito- 
 netted porch which told its own story. He 
 found himself eagerly calculating the number of 
 hours which must elapse before Monday morn- 
 ing, and cursing the temporary glow of friendli- 
 ness which had led him to accept Newton's 
 invitation last week at the club. It was a 
 weakness of Fleming's temperament that sug- 
 gestion appealed to him so much more than ful- 
 filment. He welcomed each invitation with a 
 distinct thrill of anticipation ; but when the oc- 
 casion arrived, the bloom was off the rye, and 
 he began to reflect on the comparative comforts 
 and privileges of staying at home. 
 
 He was a confirmed bachelor, and a confirmed 
 bachelor can make himself comfortable anywhere 
 except in his friend's house. There he has de- 
 liberately put away the right to ring for every- 
 thing he wishes, and he cannot swear at the 
 attendants, at the moderate price of twenty-five 
 cents an occasion, for not foreseeing and fore- 
 stalling his needs. 
 
 It was of no use now to regret his room at the 
 club, his window-seat in the dining-room, with 
 his dainty meal ready and served to the instant
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 105 
 
 when it suited himself, not when it was easiest 
 for the servants. He was here, and here he 
 must remain for the coming thirty-eight hours 
 and twenty-six minutes. 
 
 Newton stood on the porch mopping his fore- 
 head. " So glad to see you, Fleming ! Seems 
 pretty good to get out of that beastly heat, 
 does n't it ? George, take Mr. Fleming's suit- 
 case to his room." 
 
 George was Dr. Newton's son, a long, narrow, 
 tow-headed boy of sixteen, who had met Fleming 
 with the dog-cart, and who now preceded him up 
 the stairs and opened the door of an oven papered 
 in yellow and looking out on a tinned roof. 
 
 " Would you like a bath ? " 
 
 Decidedly Fleming would like a bath. 
 
 " Well, the bath-room is there at the end of 
 the hall. You have to go through Father's and 
 Mother's room to get to it ; but you won't mind 
 that." 
 
 " Oh, no, certainly not ! But perhaps you 
 will kindly show me the way, for fear I might 
 fall into the clothes-closet or be shot down the 
 chute to the butler's pantry." 
 
 To himself Fleming murmured, "I suppose I 
 ought to think myself lucky not to have a sofa- 
 bed in the hall." 
 
 Supper was cleverly placed at half-past six, in
 
 io6 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 order apparently to cut out of the day the two 
 hours when strolling or driving might have been 
 agreeable. The sun was slanting its last spiteful 
 rays in at the scantily shaded windows of the sit- 
 ting-room, happily combined with a hallway, when 
 Fleming came down-stairs, immaculate and to the 
 outer eye coolly comfortable in his fresh linen. 
 
 Mrs. Newton met him and introduced herself. 
 She was not at all what Fleming would have ex- 
 pected Newton's wife to be. To understand 
 men's wives one should know how they looked 
 as girls, and that is often difficult. The Mrs. 
 Newton of to-day had about as much individu- 
 ality as a dish-pan, to which she bore some 
 resemblance, being round and gray and monoto- 
 nous. She welcomed Mr. Fleming with timid 
 cordiality and then seemed suddenly to become 
 afraid of the situation. 
 
 " I think," she said, " I 'd better hurry supper 
 a little. The country always gives people such 
 an appetite ! " 
 
 Fleming, who usually dined at eight, bowed 
 his assent, and the little lady rolled away, leav- 
 ing him at leisure to observe the room in which 
 he sat. The furnishings were an unhappy com- 
 bination of Newton's ideas of interest with his 
 wife's ideas of beauty. 
 
 The chief ornament was a large walnut-framed
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 107 
 
 clock, which designated not only the hours, but 
 the minutes and seconds, also the day of the 
 week, month, and year, and with lavish super- 
 fluity indicated in the corner the phases of the 
 moon and the date of eclipses. Next the mantel 
 stood a spectroscope. A phonograph occupied 
 the table, and in the window, taking up the only 
 space where an easy-chair might have stood with 
 its back to the light, was a glass tank filled with, 
 anemic fish and small uncanny reptiles. All 
 these represented Newton. His wife, in the 
 " pursuit of prettiness," had added certain easily 
 recognized artistic touches a sofa-pillow deco- 
 rated with a picture of George as a baby, his 
 yellow curls forming a charming contrast with 
 the light-blue background, embroidered " tidies" 
 representing a pathetic amount of misdirected 
 industry, and a catch-all, made of satin ribbon 
 and heavy lace, hung against the wall. 
 
 Fleming hoped that it would be possible to 
 spend a great deal of time out of doors during 
 his visit, and reflected with satisfaction that half 
 an hour had already passed. 
 
 As he rose to walk to the doo.r, his eyes fell 
 on a pile of music, a violin-stand, and an open 
 case. It was like finding an orchid in a cab- 
 bage-bed. How had such an exotic fallen into 
 this Philistine world?
 
 io8 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 As if in answer to his questioning thought, 
 the owner of the violin appeared at the door, and 
 on discovering Fleming would have backed out 
 again, but the visitor spoke to him. 
 
 " Hulloa, George ! " he said. ** Is it you who 
 play?" 
 
 " Yes, I do, a little very badly, you know. 
 But I get a lot of fun out of it." 
 
 " You have had lessons ? " 
 
 " No. Father won't let me. He says I 'm to 
 be a scientific man, and that a scientific man has 
 nothing to do with fiddling." 
 
 "And you do you wish to be a scientific 
 man?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 " Then why " Fleming was beginning, when 
 Newton entered and his son disappeared. 
 
 " Come, Fleming," urged his host, " you must 
 see my laboratory before dinner." 
 
 The guest followed willingly enough down a 
 long passage to a separate building containing a 
 large, square room, much more admirable than 
 the sitting-room. Places where people work 
 are generally more esthetic than those where they 
 consult their ideas of the beautiful. The useful 
 is good enough in any household. It is reserved 
 for the ornamental to be hideous. 
 
 Newton's study, to Fleming's mind, quite
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 109 
 
 atoned for the rest of the house and for the first 
 time he could understand his friend's living here. 
 A large table, littered with books, pamphlets, 
 and papers, occupied the center of the room. 
 Two or three easy-chairs stood around it. About 
 the walls were shelves, filled on one side with 
 books, above which hung a colored geological 
 map of the basin of the Thames, showing the 
 layers of chalk, weald clay, oolite, lias, and trias 
 in shades of green and yellow. 
 
 Fleming drew near to the bookcase and ran 
 his eye carelessly over the volumes which repre- 
 sented the only library of the house. They 
 were, as he would have expected, entirely scien- 
 tific. Not a poet was there, not a romancer, not 
 a dramatist, not a historian. Everything was 
 science. Fleming read the titles, confessing 
 with some shame to himself that even they were 
 unfamiliar and bewildering Haeckel's "Peri- 
 genesis of the Plastidule," Biichner's " Matter and 
 Force," Max Verworn's " Psychophysiologische 
 Protisten-Studien." What effect would it have 
 on a man's mind, Fleming wondered, to read 
 this sort of thing and nothing else ? Would he 
 gain in concentration as much as he would lose 
 by the exclusion of the humanities? 
 
 "Ah, you are looking over my books, are 
 you ? " said Newton's voice, as if in answer to
 
 no FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 the questioning. " They 're food enough for a 
 lifetime; but there are better things yet than 
 books." 
 
 " Perhaps I did him injustice," thought Flem- 
 ing. 
 
 " Yes," Newton went on. " Just look at the 
 other side of the room ! " 
 
 Fleming looked, and saw rows upon rows of 
 glass vials rilled with alcohol and containing 
 ** specimens " a five-legged frog in one, an 
 appendix in another, and then a succession of 
 test-tubes containing a jelly-like substance and 
 labeled "cultures." "Bacillus typhi" caught 
 Fleming's eye. 
 
 " Pleasant ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; very," Newton answered. 
 " I 'm glad you feel so. Some people don't ; 
 but I was sure you would take an intelligent 
 interest. I should like to show you some of 
 my experiments, if you 'd only stay over next 
 week." 
 
 " Thank you," murmured Fleming, hastily, 
 " but it 's quite impossible ! " 
 
 " You know," Newton went on, scarcely tak- 
 ing in Fleming's response, " I am in the midst 
 of an article for * Pure Science ' on the Musca 
 domestic a, or common house-fly, as a dangerous 
 enemy of mankind. These are my material."
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 111 
 
 With this he opened the door into a sort of pen 
 stocked with rabbits and guinea-pigs. " The 
 ones in the cages have not yet been inoculated. 
 Those which have been, and are under observa- 
 tion, are kept in a special hospital about a quarter 
 of a mile away. Of course every precaution is 
 taken ; the dead animals are cremated, and there 
 is no possibility of the communication of disease 
 to human beings. Still people are so foolish 
 about such things that I have thought it better 
 not to mention my experiments to my neighbors." 
 
 "A wise precaution!" Fleming assented. 
 
 "Yes; caution is always necessary in dealing 
 with ignorant prejudice. Now to an intelligent 
 layman like you it would be a pleasure to ex- 
 plain my process. The flies are allowed to plant 
 their feet in one of these * cultures,' you see, and 
 then their " 
 
 "Excuse me!" interrupted Fleming. "It is 
 of no use for me to pose as an intelligent ob- 
 server. The fact is, I rather loathe the whole 
 business. Would you object to coming back 
 into the other room and shutting the door ? " 
 
 " Why, of course, if you 'd rather," assented 
 Newton ; but his face fell. 
 
 Fleming, perceiving his disappointment, con- 
 tinued the conversation by asking : " Is this the 
 principal work upon which you 're engaged?"
 
 112 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " No ; oh, no," Newton answered, brightening 
 a little. " My real work, the one that goes on 
 year in and year out, is the study of cellular 
 psychology." 
 
 " Is it really ? " Fleming exclaimed, with a fair 
 imitation of enthusiasm, secretly wondering what 
 the deuce it was all about 
 
 " Yes ; I regard that as the greatest field open 
 to the scientist to-day. It is at the very hub of 
 nature's wheel, which goes whirling on, swinging 
 from lifelessness through life back to life- 
 lessness." 
 
 " Would you mind saying that over again *? 
 But if it 's too much trouble, you need n't, you 
 know." 
 
 " Why, you must understand ! A child could 
 see that how the plant raises inert matter to 
 the living world, while the animal destroys living 
 matter and gives it back to the earth, and all the 
 while the blind instinct of the imperceptible atom 
 is in all and through all and the secret of all. 
 You understand ? " 
 
 " I 'm sure you could n't make it clearer.'* 
 
 "Precisely. Then you see that, just as we 
 take the material cell as the unit in the biological 
 world, we must accept the cell-soul as the ele- 
 mentary unit in the psychological world." 
 
 " Now, see here, Newton ! " Fleming began,
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 113 
 
 when the conversation was interrupted by a 
 knock at the door and the announcement that 
 supper had been ready for some time and Mrs. 
 Newton said would n't they please come. 
 
 Fleming rose with alacrity. Newton, on the 
 other hand, frowned and ran his fingers impa- 
 tiently through his backward-falling iron-gray 
 hair. 
 
 "Just the way," he muttered, "always the 
 way ! They wait till some one in the house gets 
 his brain at work, and then they ring a bell or 
 knock on the door, or raise some infernal racket 
 for what? To let him know that meat and 
 potato are on the table. For Heaven's sake, why 
 should hours for eating be so sacred, and hours 
 for reading, thinking, or talking be broken in 
 upon without apology!" Nevertheless, he rose 
 and led the way to the dining-room, where 
 George and Mrs. Newton were waiting, the 
 former frankly hungry, the latter gently queru- 
 lous and begging Fleming not to blame her if 
 the soup were cold. 
 
 A silence fell as they took their seats, and 
 Fleming had full opportunity to note the differ- 
 ence between the aggregation that makes a 
 household and the congregation that makes a 
 home. These three human beings had no more 
 in common as a fund for spontaneous conversa-
 
 114 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 tion than if they had gathered from the corners 
 of the earth. Each threw down a gauntlet in the 
 shape of a remark on a subject interesting to 
 himself, but as no one took it up, no tournaments 
 ensued, and the tilts were solitary canters. 
 
 " The peas are late this year," was Mrs. New- 
 ton's first contribution to the conversation this 
 evening. 
 
 Fleming responded that such peas as these 
 were worth waiting for. 
 
 Mrs. Newton was glad he thought so and 
 would n't he be helped to some more? 
 
 " Father," broke in George, who had been 
 surreptitiously reading the evening paper which 
 he held under the table, "they 've begun the 
 summer concerts. May I go to the city to hear 
 one next week 4 ?" 
 
 "No," said his father, shortly. Whereupon 
 George bit his lip and looked as though if he 
 had been a girl he might have cried. 
 
 Fleming felt sorry for him. 
 
 " Perhaps," he said, turning to Newton, " you 
 will let George spend the night in town and 
 go to a concert with me sometime." 
 
 "As you like," said Newton, indifferently; 
 "but I can't understand George. Here, last 
 month, when I wanted him to go to a meeting 
 of the Geographical Society with me, he said
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 115 
 
 that no entertainment in town paid for the 
 journey." 
 
 Fleming bowed his head over his plate to 
 conceal a smile. As he did so, his eyes fell upon 
 a fly making its way leisurely across the table- 
 cloth. What if awful thought what if this 
 fly had experienced a "culture"! 
 
 He strove to rid his face of all misgivings 
 before he looked up ; but he might have spared 
 himself the trouble. Newton's mind was too 
 preoccupied to take much heed of the expres- 
 sions of his neighbors. He proceeded now un- 
 moved with the train of thought which he had 
 been following. 
 
 " That was an interesting man, that friend of 
 yours whom I met at the club a month or two ago. 
 I 've come across him two or three times since. 
 What was his name ? Walden ? Walworth ? " 
 
 " Walford," said Fleming. "He is n't a friend 
 of mine; only an acquaintance. Did you find 
 him interesting ? " 
 
 *' As a study, yes." 
 
 " You were not drawn to him as an indi- 
 vidual *? " 
 
 " I don't say that ; but I would not trust him, 
 not in any enterprise which I had much at 
 heart." 
 
 " I never doubted his honesty."
 
 n6 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "Not his honesty, perhaps, but his integrity, 
 his whole-souledness, that is. His enthusiasms 
 are too facile. He is too sensitive, too appre- 
 ciative, too feminine. I find that the more an 
 individual shares the peculiarities of the opposite 
 sex, the weaker it is, the less chance of survival 
 it has. I wonder, by the way, if Walworth 
 Walford is going to marry Mrs. Blythe." 
 
 Fleming dropped his napkin and stooped to 
 pick it up. 
 
 " Have you heard any such report*?" he asked. 
 
 " I am not sure whether I have actually heard 
 it or whether I formed the impression from 
 seeing them together several times. On that 
 day when she sailed, I met him coming off the 
 pier, and he looked quite broken up. You 'd 
 have thought that he had said good-by to his last 
 friend. That 's what I object to ; he has no self- 
 control, no governor to his engine." 
 
 " Don't you think Mr. Fleming would like to 
 take his coftee on the porch, Father ? " Mrs. 
 Newton asked. She always called Newton 
 "Father," as if his only relation to her were 
 through their child. 
 
 " An excellent idea ! " exclaimed Fleming, 
 glad to be rid of the heat and the flies and the 
 subject of Walford. 
 
 George turned in at the door of the sitting-
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 117 
 
 room, and picking up the score of " Tristan," 
 began to read it as he would read a novel. Mrs. 
 Newton established herself with her embroidery 
 under the light of an electric piano-lamp, and the 
 master of the house, accompanied by his guest, 
 strolled out to the porch, where Fleming seated 
 himself on the broad, flat railing. Newton of- 
 fered cigars ; but Fleming drew out a pipe, which 
 he filled lovingly, pressing down the tobacco 
 with his thumb and first finger. As he lighted 
 it, he heard a cough, a slight, dry, hacking cough 
 which made him shiver. His older brother had 
 died of phthisis, and he knew the sound. 
 
 " Who is that coughing *? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, that 's George. He has formed the 
 habit of it lately." 
 
 " Formed the habit of it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it often bothers me when I am trying 
 to study." 
 
 " But does n't it worry you *? " 
 
 " It does a little. In fact, I sent him to a 
 doctor here, you know, physicians never like 
 to tinker up their own families, and Grey says 
 it would be a good plan for George to go South 
 or abroad, to Italy perhaps, for the winter. I 
 can't see my way to it, and I dare say the boy 
 will do just as well at home here, with the proper 
 medicines."
 
 ii8 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " He is fond of the violin, he tells me." 
 
 "Oh, he thinks he is no genius for it; no- 
 thing that makes it worth while." 
 
 " But if he enjoys it " 
 
 " He must learn to enjoy the kind of thing in 
 which he can succeed." 
 
 " Has George a taste for science ? " 
 
 "He will have he must have. It takes time 
 at first, of course, and much drudgery ; but the 
 reward is so immense that none except the dullest 
 of the dull would stop to count the cost." 
 
 " Might not the same be true of music *? " 
 
 "Not at all. Music is only an amusement, 
 with no intellectual element in it; at any rate, 
 till we reach the grade of the composer. The 
 musician, the performer on an instrument, is only 
 a step above the clog-dancer. What a thing to 
 give a life to ! " 
 
 Fleming saw that further argument was useless. 
 He puffed at his pipe in silence, watching the 
 embers glow and darken in the bowl. In his 
 heart he wondered how it could come to pass 
 that there should be so little mutual understand- 
 ing between those of the same blood. 
 
 At last, more by way of changing the current 
 of talk than from vital interest, he asked : 
 
 " Have you ever regretted giving up the prac- 
 tice of medicine, Newton *? "
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 119 
 
 " No, a thousand times no ! " was the almost 
 explosive answer. 
 
 Fleming murmured something about a noble 
 profession, alleviating of human suffering, saving 
 of human life. 
 
 "Ah, there it is!" Newton broke in impa- 
 tiently. " We have grown to have such an 
 exorbitant estimate of the value of the individual 
 life. Where do we get it ? Not from nature, 
 surely. She makes short work of the individual 
 who puts himself in the path of her laws. The 
 physicians pride themselves on their success if 
 they prolong for a few years the existence of 
 Tom or Dick or Harry, when nature would have 
 put them all out of the way to make room for bet- 
 ter men. Oh, I 'm not finding fault with the doc- 
 tors. I used to feel so myself; but I 've put all 
 that behind me as a childishness. Why, merely 
 on the ground of philanthropy, discoveries like 
 those of Koch and Virchow and Pasteur and 
 Jenner outweigh by a thousandfold any petty 
 results of a tinkering doctor who gives up his 
 life to taking care of a few old women ; and as 
 for the unfolding of great laws like those laid 
 down by Darwin and Kepler, they simply open 
 a new world to millions, widening their horizon, 
 lifting them higher in the scale of sentient be- 
 ings that 's the sphere of pure science."
 
 120 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Oh, if that 's the way you look at it ! " 
 
 "To be perfectly frank with you, Fleming, 
 that is n't the way I look at it at all. If you 
 wish the real truth, I never think about human 
 beings or their interests." 
 
 *' A strange mortal ! " thought Fleming. " One 
 is tempted to ask : If a man love not his brother 
 whom he hath seen, how can he love truth which 
 he hath not seen ? How can the abstract take 
 such hold upon the soul as wholly to extinguish 
 the personal, to drive out the consciousness of the 
 individual which separates man from the brutes ! 
 Is it an advance or a retrogression *? " 
 
 He continued this course of thought after the 
 lights were out and he had lain down in his 
 room, where he felt like one of the wretched folk 
 in the city of Dis in their red-hot tombs with the 
 lifted lids. Even they, he told himself, were not 
 tormented with mosquitos. 
 
 Sleep he could not, and every now and then 
 his ears were assailed by that dry, thin, hard little 
 cough. "How long can this thing last," he 
 asked himself, "and how can Newton be so 
 blind? It is as bad as murder to sit still and 
 do nothing." 
 
 Then he began to be afraid that if he thought 
 of it any more he should try to do something 
 about it himself. There he drew the line. It
 
 MAXWELL NEWTON 121 
 
 was none of his responsibility and he would not 
 make it so. He was planning to go away for a 
 trip next winter, but he meant it to be a pleasure- 
 trip. He certainly had no intention of escorting 
 an invalid boy who was a vicioso on the fiddle ; 
 not he no such fool. At this point Fleming 
 turned, tucked in the mosquito-netting, and went 
 to sleep. 
 
 On Monday morning he stood on the steps 
 waiting for the dog-cart, which, like Vergil's robe 
 to Dante, represented a blessed promise of escape. 
 Quite to his own surprise, he heard himself say- 
 ing casually: "By the way, Newton, I am plan- 
 ning to go to Italy next winter. If you 'd like to 
 have George go with me, just say so."
 
 VIII 
 
 THREE LETTERS 
 " Black-and-white Angels of Revelation. " 
 
 ONE morning in the early autumn, Fleming 
 found on his desk a letter bearing a French 
 stamp. The handwriting told him that it came 
 from Mrs. Blythe. He laid it aside and did not 
 open it till the stress of the day's business was 
 over. This was done partly as self-discipline 
 and partly in order to convince himself that the 
 contents had no special interest for him. Never- 
 theless, more than once he permitted himself to 
 take the envelope between his fingers and en- 
 deavor to estimate the length of the letter by its 
 thickness a problem for which there is no 
 mathematical formula. When at last he broke 
 the seal he discovered with a satisfaction which 
 he would not admit that the letter was long and 
 closely written. 
 
 "DEAR MR. FLEMING [it ran]: The postmark of 
 St. Malo on this letter does not indicate that we 
 
 122
 
 THREE LETTERS 123 
 
 live there, but only that we drive to that town to 
 get and send our mail. We are traveling, or rather 
 resting from travel, with Lord and Lady Camp- 
 bell and their curious assortment of sons and 
 daughters and dogs and men- and maid-servants. 
 They let us alone as only English people can 
 let you alone that is, without prejudice to your 
 attractions or their appreciation. The son, young 
 Hawtree Campbell, is an agreeable man. He 
 means to stand for Parliament next year all 
 because we have been twitting him with his idle- 
 ness. I am rather sorry, for I like to have people 
 stay in their type, and his type is emphatically 
 that of the leisure class." 
 
 Here Fleming laid the letter down on his 
 desk, and smoothed the open page mechanically. 
 "Now, why does she write that to me*?" he 
 asked himself. " Mrs. Blythe is too clever to 
 introduce the creditable anecdote for its own sake. 
 If she wishes me to know that Hawtree Campbell 
 is in love with her, why not say so and let it alone? 
 She need not be afraid of my repeating it." 
 
 Fleming, you see, judged a woman's motives 
 by a man's, and thereby fell into many and griev- 
 ous errors. 
 
 " I wonder [the letter continued] how you 
 would adapt yourself to the lazy life which we
 
 124 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 are leading here. Could you content yourself 
 with strolls on the beach, crunching mussel-shells 
 under your heels, or with drives along the cliffs 
 between borders of funny, stubbly grass, or watch- 
 ing the sun dip into the ocean to the west of us ? 
 That is the thing to which I cannot grow accus- 
 tomed over here, rinding the Atlantic always on 
 the wrong side. If you were here, and brought 
 your logical mind to bear, I dare say I should 
 come to understand that we do not carry our 
 horizon line in the 'trunk when we travel. If we 
 could only get rid of our mental horizon as easily! 
 Every day I realize the truth of Lady Kew's say- 
 ing that we belong to our belongings ; and once 
 in a while, once in a very long while, I feel as if 
 I should like to be rid of mine, and travel about 
 like the artist who is sketching under my win- 
 dow, with no impedimenta but his kit and his 
 umbrella. 
 
 " I have discovered in myself the meanest 
 jealousy not of what people have, but of what 
 they are. All the time while I am watching my 
 artist I am thinking : " Oh, dear, I wish I could 
 do that ! " After all, though, should I be satis- 
 fied with such an impersonal life *? Would any 
 woman be satisfied with it ? I suspect I should 
 weary of it in the end. It is the influence of my 
 individuality which interests me. Better be the
 
 THREE LETTERS 125 
 
 inspiration of the painter Andrea del Sarto's wife, 
 for instance, if she had had the brains to appre- 
 ciate his art, or that Mona Lisa who smiled her 
 crooked smile on to Leonardo's canvas! But 
 a man would n't feel so would he ? 
 
 " Here I am forgetting that you are a busy 
 lawyer whose time is of value. Therefore to the 
 purpose of my letter, which is to acknowledge 
 your letter and to inclose the proxies for which 
 you ask. I shall trust to your judgment entirely. 
 The rubber stock I prefer to hold, even at the 
 risk of loss. Perhaps you will send me a stock- 
 list. I have not seen one for a long while. 
 
 " Now I come to that part of your letter which 
 is hardest for me to answer, and so, like a cow- 
 ard, I have put it off till the last. I ask myself: 
 ' What shall I say of Renee Jaudon's death ? ' 
 Whatever sentences I frame sound either brutal 
 or hypocritical. I am not sorry that she is dead. 
 I am not. I am not. After all, you know, why 
 should I be, except as it makes the question of 
 the child more importunate ? At the end of the 
 year I suppose I must come to some decision 
 about that; but I am fully determined not to 
 burden my life with this responsibility which 
 Fate has tried to thrust upon me. The child's 
 very existence is an insult to me. His presence 
 would be a perpetual reminder of all that I most
 
 126 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 wish to forget. You do not know what it means. 
 You cannot, or you could never have said so 
 calmly there on the deck of the steamer that we 
 must forgive in order to forget." 
 
 " Did I say that ? " thought Fleming. " What 
 a prig I must have been ! It sounds like the 
 top line of a copy-book." 
 
 " I, at least, can neither forgive nor forget at 
 present [the letter went on], therefore I ,can 
 only ignore, and this child is a stumbling-block 
 in even that path. My idea is, if possible, to 
 find some decent person who will adopt the boy 
 and bring him up in ignorance of his parentage. 
 This will be the kindest course toward him. 
 No, perhaps not that, but the only possible one 
 for me. I recognize no obligations on my part 
 beyond those of common charity. 
 
 " My uncle is calling me to watch the Breton 
 women gathering seaweed. They are a picture 
 in their tattered, bright-colored petticoats against 
 the white sand and blue sea. We shall be here 
 for another month, and after that it will be safest 
 to address me in care of my bankers. I am glad 
 that there is a prospect of your running over this 
 winter. If we meet in Rome, remind me to tell 
 you of a compliment that my uncle paid you the
 
 THREE LETTERS 127 
 
 other day. I must tell you also of his comment 
 on my portrait, an etching by Rajon. 
 
 " * Anne,' he said, ' you have not really much 
 intellect or such good looks ; but the clever peo- 
 ple think you good-looking and the artistic peo- 
 ple think you clever.' I like my picture because 
 it is a happy blend of the two deceptions. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "ANNE BLYTHE. 
 
 " P. S. If you see Mr. Walford, please tell 
 him that Hawtree Campbell is anxious to read 
 his last Easter sermon; if he has kept the notes 
 perhaps he will let me borrow them. 
 
 "A. B." 
 
 " H'm," said Fleming, pushing aside the page, 
 "so that is the solution of the riddle. It is Wal- 
 ford who is to know about Hawtree Campbell. 
 Perhaps; but not through me." 
 
 The week after receiving this letter from Mrs. 
 Blythe, Fleming wrote an answer inclosing the 
 stock-list for which she had asked. It so chanced 
 that the same steamer which carried his letter car- 
 ried also a letter from Stuart Walford'. The two 
 were brought at the same time to Mrs. Blythe as 
 she sat with Lady Campbell at the base of a cross 
 set up by the pious Breton peasants on the edge
 
 128 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 of the cliff, a few rods from the red-roofed inn. 
 Anne turned the letters in her hand, and at sight 
 of " St. Simeon's Parish House " in the corner 
 of one envelope she flushed so high that Lady 
 Campbell noticed it and said considerately : " I 
 think I will explore the cove down below there 
 while you are reading your mail." 
 
 " Very well," Anne assented. " If there is 
 anything of interest, I will read it aloud when 
 you come back." 
 
 When she found herself alone she threw 
 Fleming's letter lightly on the grass and tore 
 open the other envelope with quick, nervous 
 fingers. As she read, her brows drew together 
 in a puzzled frown and her breath came short. 
 
 "You were good enough [Walford wrote] 
 to grant me permission to write to you when 
 you went abroad. I have tried several times to 
 begin a letter ; but it was difficult. My life here 
 is absorbing to me ; yet it has very little material 
 of general interest, so if I write it must be of the 
 inner and not the outer world, and more of you 
 than of myself. I often think of our talks last 
 spring. They meant a great deal to me. You 
 said once that I helped you. The words linger 
 in my memory and give me courage for what I 
 am going to say."
 
 THREE LETTERS 129 
 
 Here several words were erased, as if a sen- 
 tence had made a false start and trotted round the 
 track for a fresh one. 
 
 " My object in writing now is to beg you to 
 trust me [the letter went on] if you should ever 
 find yourself in any trouble requiring sympathy 
 or counsel. I know that you have the wisest 
 spiritual guidance close at hand; but we cannot 
 always lay bare the deep things of our lives be- 
 fore those who stand nearest us, can we ? That 
 sorrow is only half a sorrow of which we can 
 speak freely. 
 
 " Yet it does not do to lock our hearts utterly, 
 lest we shut out the Holy Spirit when it comes 
 to strive with us. I sometimes think that our 
 church made a fatal mistake in breaking with the 
 sacred tradition of Rome which offers her chil- 
 dren the spiritual sanctuary of the confessional, 
 where the burdened soul may lay down its load, 
 sure of a listening ear, a sympathetic heart, an 
 eternal silence. 
 
 " Forgive me if I have "said too much ! I 
 could not say less, remembering as I do the look 
 in your eyes on that day when we first met. I 
 shall never forget it I cannot I do not wish to. 
 
 "You will answer this, will you not? and tell 
 me where your winter is to be spent. A task
 
 130 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 has been assigned to me which is likely to take 
 me to Geneva in the late winter or the early 
 spring, and nothing shall hinder me from finding 
 you out if you are in that part of the world." 
 
 Walford's signature followed, and so the letter 
 ended. Anne read it through twice, then folded 
 it slowly and slipped it meditatively into its 
 envelope, after which she leaned back against the 
 great cross, clasped her hands about her knees, 
 and sat staring at the line of islands rising blue 
 to the northwest. " What does it mean *? " she 
 asked herself, and found no answer. 
 
 We take enormous risks when we send off 
 letters to our friends. The mood of the reader 
 is so little to be foreseen by the writer! Our 
 trifling jests fall on breaking hearts. We fill 
 pages with our swelling emotions, and they are 
 scanned by eyes of cynical amusement. 
 
 Walford's letter left Anne baffled and bewil- 
 dered. What could it mean *? At length, after 
 her mind had wandered through puzzled mazes 
 for a long while, she began to feel that she had 
 hold of a clue. It must be that to Walford's 
 life of strenuous self-sacrifice her self-indulgence 
 took on the aspect of crime, and he felt that he 
 must break down the barriers of conventionality 
 and deliver his message of warning. She re-
 
 THREE LETTERS 131 
 
 spected him for that, though she thought it might 
 have been done with something less of solemnity 
 less of the manner of the Hebrew prophets. 
 
 Her vanity was wounded by the constraint of 
 the letter and by the lack of that something 
 which had marked his bearing on the steamer 
 something as impossible to explain as to mistake, 
 the tutoiement of manner underlying indifferent 
 speech. Moreover, the ascetic ideal which Wai- 
 ford represented struck a chili across the warm 
 expansiveness of Anne's mood. She shook her 
 head wilfully like a Shetland pony, and turned 
 to Fleming's letter. 
 
 " MY DEAR MRS. BLYTHE [Fleming wrote] : I 
 understand your desire to hold the rubber stock ; 
 but you must remember that all industrials 
 are uncertain. However, it was agreed before 
 you left that I should assume no responsibility 
 for your individual investments, but simply act 
 as your agent except where I act as trustee for 
 the estate. The proxies I have and shall try 
 to use for your best interest. I inclose herewith 
 the stock-list for which you asked. 
 
 " Yesterday I received a report from the Sis- 
 ters of St. Clara. Renee Jaudon's child has been 
 ill,, but is recovering. Will you be sorry, 1 
 wonder? They seem fond of it, and it is not
 
 132 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 impossible that they will be willing to undertake 
 the charge for another year. That is all my 
 news. 
 
 "Your wind-swept cliffs are a pleasant con- 
 trast to my close office, where the electric light 
 burns all day and sheds a circle of sham sun- 
 shine over my desk. I take great credit to 
 myself for not being more envious than I am ; 
 but there are always compensations. I, for in- 
 stance, am too busy to be bored and you *? " 
 
 Anne looked off from the letter, and her eyes 
 fell on Lady Campbell, wandering along the 
 beach, picking up shells of which she intended 
 to make a picture-frame as a souvenir of St. 
 Malo. Mrs. Blythe had thoroughly appreciated 
 the companionship of these kindly, well-bred, 
 well-placed English friends ; but she realized with 
 swift compunction that in the matter of interest 
 there might still be something to be desired. 
 "Mr. Fleming would be more agreeable," Anne 
 decided, "if he were not a clairvoyant." Then 
 she read on : 
 
 " I shall soon have an opportunity of testing 
 my own power of enjoyment as an idler. We 
 sail by the Southern route late in January. I 
 think I wrote you that George Newton is going
 
 THREE LETTERS 133 
 
 with me. As he has a little cough of his own, 
 we shall loiter about Naples and Capri for several 
 weeks and shall probably reach Rome about the 
 time when you are leaving. 
 
 ** I was much interested in what you say in 
 your letter of the difference between a man's 
 ideals and a woman's." 
 
 " What did I say about ideals *? " Anne ques- 
 tioned; but not being able to remember, she 
 continued reading: 
 
 ** I certainly do not know many men who 
 would be contented to be the inspiration of 
 another man's work. It is too passive a form of 
 achievement to appeal strongly to the masculine 
 mind. As to * the influence of one's individu- 
 ality,' was n't that your phrase ? I fancy 
 most men would rather be known through their 
 work than through their personality. For myself, 
 I thoroughly agree with Montaigne that one is 
 never so well off as in the back shop ; but then 
 one must have been in the front shop first to 
 appreciate it, and, moreover, neither he nor I ever 
 looked at life from the standpoint of a beautiful 
 woman. 
 
 " Shall I see your portrait if we meet in Rome? 
 I hope so. And of your mercy, Gracious Lady,
 
 134 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 do not play upon my vanity by asking me to 
 remind you to repeat the Bishop's compliment. 
 Dispense it affably and without taking notice of 
 my confusion ! I dearly love flattery, but not at 
 the time of its administering. I prefer to drag it 
 up my winding stair into my dismal den, and 
 there, like the spider, to gloat over it unobserved. 
 "My respectful regards to your uncle, whom 
 I have admired from the moment of our meeting 
 (true, by the way), also to Lord and Lady Camp- 
 bell ; but not to their son : I have a notion that 
 I should not like him I don't know why. 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 "BLAIR FLEMING," 
 
 Anne was still smiling when she looked up to 
 find Lady Campbell quietly sitting near her on 
 the grass. 
 
 " My letter is from Mr. Fleming," Anne said. 
 "He is my lawyer. He sends his regards to you 
 and Lord Campbell." 
 
 " I should like to see him again ! " Lady 
 Campbell exclaimed cordially. " He is not only 
 a gentleman but an interesting man." Then she 
 added, after a reflective pause : 
 
 " I don't wish to say anything nasty about the 
 States ; but when we were over there we did not 
 find your gentlemen your best specimens. My
 
 THREE LETTERS 135 
 
 husband was tremendously impressed with your 
 workingmen they were so intelligent and all 
 that, don't you know. But as you go higher and 
 look for more, you often don't get it." 
 
 " No, you don't ! " Anne admitted candidly, 
 and then added : " As for Mr. Fleming, you 
 probably will meet him again if you go to Rome 
 with us. He speaks of being there when we 
 are." 
 
 Lady Campbell raised her eyebrows question- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Anne ; " he is not in love 
 with me. He admires a very different type of 
 woman. I suspect that his most complimentary 
 adjective would be 'discreet.'" 
 
 " That word does not exactly describe you, I 
 admit." 
 
 " Thank Heaven, it does n't ! Discretion is a 
 mean combination of second-rate virtues. I 'd 
 rather wear my heart on my sleeve and have it 
 fairly riddled with daw-pecks than to keep it 
 under glass like a French clock. Shall we go 
 in?" 
 
 Lady Campbell noticed that Mrs. Blythe had 
 not fulfilled her promise of reading her letters 
 aloud, and she drew her own inferences. They 
 strolled in silence across the moorland stretching 
 between the top of the cliff and the inn, which
 
 136 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 boasted a gilded monkey hanging before its 
 doorway, and rejoiced in the name of Le Singe 
 d'Or. The dry grasses crackled beneath their 
 feet, the mellow autumn air blew softly against 
 their faces. Anne took off her hat that she might 
 feel it stronger on her forehead. 
 
 "I wish to be good," she said at last, breaking 
 the silence. " But I should hate to be too good. 
 As far as I can see, the better you are the less 
 comfort you get out of it. I mean to keep a firm 
 hand on my conscience if I find it growing too 
 sensitive." 
 
 Lady Campbell laughed. " Here comes Haw- 
 tree," she said.
 
 IX 
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 
 
 " What of a villa ? Though winter be over in March by rights, 
 *T is May perhaps ere the snow shall have withered well off the heights. 
 You 've the brown plowed land before where the oxen steam and wheeze, 
 And the hills over-smoked behind by the faint gray olive-trees." 
 
 MY dear Anne, whenever you feel that it 
 would relieve your mind to say some- 
 thing, don't say it!" 
 
 Bishop Alston and his niece had been travel- 
 ing together for ten months, and the Bishop had 
 arrived at a tolerably clear understanding of 
 Mrs. Blythe's character, at least in its superficial 
 phases. This remark was the result of his obser- 
 vation. They had been talking of Eunice Yates, 
 who, like them, was spending the spring in Flor- 
 ence, and who had just sent a note saying that 
 she should come up to take tea with them. This 
 afternoon tea was a pleasant thing as Mrs. Blythe 
 served it on the terrace of the pink-stuccoed 
 villa on the slope of the Fiesole hill. The slant
 
 138 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 sunlight fell across the red roofs of the city, re- 
 ducing them to a ruddy blur, through which the 
 shaft of the Campanile and the burly cube of the 
 Palazzo Vecchio rose solid and tangible. Be- 
 yond, the distance softened into the terraced 
 heights of San Miniato. 
 
 Anne had just returned from a drive and still 
 wore her black-plumed hat and black gloves, which 
 with her white gown made a combination too 
 effective to be missed by the most obtuse mind, 
 and Anne's mind was not obtuse. At present, 
 however, her attention was fixed, not upon the 
 gown, but on her uncle's words. She pondered 
 with intently knit brows while she fed bits of 
 bread from her plate to a black bird perched on 
 the carved back of her chair. It was a mina- 
 bird, and the mina-bird, as every one knows, was 
 made by Mephistopheles in a moment of mock- 
 ery. It outranks a parrot in cleverness as a par- 
 rot outranks a canary, and makes its living by 
 scoffing at the human beings around, till they 
 are fain to stop its mocking mouth with titbits. 
 Such a genius did the bird possess for voicing 
 the inmost thoughts and lighting upon the secret 
 weaknesses that Mrs. Blythe, who had bought 
 him of an English sailor at Naples, straightway 
 changed his name from the Indian one he bore 
 to " Conscience."
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 139 
 
 " I must say it," said Mrs. Blythe, still looking 
 at the bird over her shoulder. " It is like steam 
 gathering in a boiler the longer I keep it 
 shut up, the bigger the explosion when it comes. 
 If I could just once speak out from the shoul- 
 der " 
 
 " A mixed metaphor, my dear." 
 
 " Never mind. If I could once say, ' Eunice, 
 you are a fraud. You know it, and I know it,' 
 we might go on being friends; but as to eternally 
 accepting her valuation of herself, her false in- 
 voice of her own virtues, I can't and I won't." 
 
 " Can't and won't," echoed Conscience. 
 
 Anne laughed. 
 
 " After all," said the Bishop, " she deceives no 
 one in the long run." 
 
 " No ; but in the short run she does. She de- 
 ceives me in spite of myself. When I hear that 
 she is in the drawing-room, I say to myself, 'Now, 
 mind, don't believe a word she says to you,' and 
 before I have been with her five minutes she is 
 molding my opinion of people and things, and 
 I find myself taking up her prejudices, which, by 
 the way, she discards promptly whenever they 
 are likely to cause her any annoyance." 
 
 "Anne, your dislike of Eunice Yates is exces- 
 sive positively morbid. What is the secret 
 of it? What lies at the root of it all ? "
 
 140 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Chiefly, I think, the excellence of her mo- 
 tives. They are too good. They pass the 
 bounds of human credulity, and so we earth- 
 worms, who cannot grasp such transcendent vir- 
 tue, begin to grope about to find less worthy ones 
 and fit them to the case. Now, for instance, here 
 is Eunice's note to-day. She says that she has not 
 been able to sleep on account of her sympathy 
 with my headache yesterday. She has heard at 
 the pension of a remedy, and if I don't object she 
 will come up and bring it this afternoon." 
 
 " Now, even you cannot deny that that is a 
 kindness, Anne." 
 
 Mrs. Blythe crinkled her eyelids till their lashes 
 met, and shook her head. 
 
 " You do not perhaps remember my opening 
 a note the other day when she was here. You 
 made some inquiry about it, and I told you that it 
 was from Mr. Walford, that he was staying in 
 Florence for a few days, and that he asked if I 
 were to be at home this afternoon. You went 
 on to repeat all that Dr. Milner had said of Mr. 
 Walford's success and popularity." 
 
 "Ah! "said the Bishop; but he was not think- 
 ing of Eunice Yates. His eyes were fixed upon 
 the rising color in Anne's face, and he noted a 
 slight tremble in her voice as she spoke. He 
 had not been oblivious of the interest with which
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 141 
 
 his niece had listened to every passage in Milner's 
 letters mentioning Walford's name, or of the 
 pleasure with which she had heard of his rapid 
 advancement. How much of this interest lay on 
 the surface and how far its roots ran into the 
 depth of feeling he was unable to discover, so he 
 waited. Few men understood so well the art of 
 waiting. Regarding himself as the custodian of 
 Walford's secret, he did not feel at liberty to give 
 any hint to Anne, or even a caution not to be- 
 stow her heart upon a man pledged, in a sense, 
 to make no return. 
 
 His reflections were interrupted by the tinkle 
 of the bell at the iron gate, and a moment later 
 the servant appeared, followed closely by Stuart 
 Walford, who advanced toward Mrs. Blythe 
 with a constrained smile. Its conventionality 
 belied the flush on his face and the high excite- 
 ment of his eyes. The color was reflected on 
 Anne's cheeks, and more than the common wel- 
 come dwelt in the ring of her voice and in her 
 quickly extended hand. 
 
 Bishop Alston was struck by the change which 
 these ten months had wrought in Walford's ap- 
 pearance a change none the less convincing 
 because indefinable. Was it that the ascetic line 
 of r.iS cheek had acquired a shade of fullness, 
 that his eyes took in more and gave out less,
 
 142 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 that his manner had gained in accustomedness, 
 in the air of the world, or was it only the closer 
 cut of the hair, the better tailoring of his clerical 
 coat? Such small things go to make up the 
 totality of an impression ! 
 
 For a moment Walford was wholly absorbed 
 in the vision of Anne as she stood there in her 
 white gown; he held her in an intense gaze as 
 if he sought to fathom her very soul ; then sud- 
 denly he turned and caught the Bishop's eyes 
 fixed upon him. 
 
 " This is an unexpected pleasure ! " he ex- 
 claimed. " Dr. Milner told me that you were 
 going back to America on the 1st, leaving Mrs. 
 Blythe here for the month." 
 
 " I was," replied the Bishop, " but circum- 
 stances changed my plans." 
 
 " The more fortunate for me ! " rejoined Wal- 
 ford, with what the Bishop considered unwar- 
 rantable glibness in addressing his superior. He 
 preferred the embarrassment of last year. The 
 Bishop never showed himself tenacious of his 
 dignity unless some one failed to recognize it. 
 
 " Indeed," Walford went on, " I was so un- 
 certain in regard to Mrs. Blythe's movements 
 that I thought it best to come here at once in- 
 stead of stopping at Geneva, where I was bound 
 for the Conference of Missions."
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 143 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Bishop, with the falling in- 
 flection which tells of satisfied interrogation. 
 
 " What is this conference ? " Anne inquired 
 with specious interest. In reality nothing was 
 further from her thoughts, which were wholly 
 occupied with speculation as to the meaning of 
 Walford's coming. " Before you begin, though, 
 let me give you your tea, unless you prefer going 
 into the house." 
 
 " Oh, please not ! Remember I come from a 
 region where we don't sit out of doors at this 
 time of the year, where we don't have a scene 
 like this spread out before us at any time." 
 
 "Very well," assented Anne, leaning back in 
 her chair as she softly moved the samovar and 
 lifted ,the cups with her delicate fingers. 
 
 Walford began to feel the old bondage steal- 
 ing over him. For the moment he yielded him- 
 self wholly to its charm. 
 
 " And the conference ? " suggested the Bishop. 
 
 " The conference," Walford answered with 
 enthusiasm, ** is really the finest thing of the cen- 
 tury. Fancy all the denominations coming to- 
 gether to compare their methods of mission work, 
 to study the needs of the heathen in the uttermost 
 parts of the world, to consider what form of reli- 
 gious teaching reaches them best and why, and to 
 consider, too, what we have to learn from them!"
 
 144 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " What is the standing of the Church as com- 
 pared with the sects, in mission work *? " the 
 Bishop asked. 
 
 " Oh, we stand well up in the ranks ; but our 
 converts seem to be less affected in the matter of 
 changing their way of life." 
 
 " I 'm not surprised," the Bishop assented, 
 balancing his spoon absently on the edge of his 
 cup. " It is true in civilized countries as well. 
 The laisser-faire of the Church attracts but does 
 not compel." 
 
 "And you, Mr. Walford," broke in Anne, 
 impatient to end the theological discussion, 
 " what part do you take in the conference ? " 
 
 " I am to give a paper on the condition of the 
 Hawaiian lepers and their spiritual needs. It is 
 a subject which has interested me for a long 
 time." 
 
 Here he cast a sidelong glance at the Bishop, 
 who received it imperturbably. 
 
 " Goodness, what a ghastly theme ! " mur- 
 mured Anne, with a shrug of her shoulders. 
 " Leprosy is so hopeless ! If the lepers can find 
 any comfort in sin, why not let them ? Don't 
 you think it 's rather cruel to add a sense of re- 
 sponsibility to their other burdens *? " 
 
 " Oh, Cousin Anne ! " exclaimed a soft voice 
 from behind her shoulder. Anne scarcely turned.
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 145 
 
 "That you, Eunice? Let me present Mr. 
 Walford, Miss Yates. You heard part of our 
 talk evidently." 
 
 Walford, rising, faced a slender girl with a 
 smooth sweep of hair, and eyes of a sweet, serious 
 gray. The eyes met his with an understanding 
 and sympathy which went far to console him for 
 the shock caused by Mrs. Blythe's words. 
 
 " Yes," said Eunice, placing her profile be- 
 tween Walford and the view, while she spoke to 
 Anne, " I heard, and was so interested I could 
 not bear to interrupt. I know Mr. Walford by 
 reputation already. I hoped that he was going 
 on to tell something of those poor lepers and of 
 that lonely life of theirs." 
 
 "Eunice, you 're a fraud! " 
 
 The voice that uttered these words came from 
 the black imp in the shape of a bird, which had 
 forsaken the back of Mrs. Blythe's chair for a 
 perch on the balustrade. His words sent a shock 
 through the entire company. Anne blushed. 
 Eunice looked at her with reproachful compre- 
 hension. The Bishop fingered his spectacles 
 uneasily, and Walford fairly started from his 
 chair. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe was the first to recover her com- 
 posure. 
 
 " You must not be surprised by any bit of
 
 146 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 folly or impertinence from this bird of mine, Mr. 
 Walford. He speaks 'an infinite deal of no- 
 thing.' " 
 
 " Does he ever say anything of his own, Cousin 
 Anne, or does he only repeat what he hears *? " 
 
 Anne did not find it convenient to answer. 
 
 " I trust, Eunice," she said, " that you have 
 come to say that you will sing at the musicale 
 to-morrow evening." 
 
 " Yes ; that is, if you will be contented with 
 that 'Ave Maria.' You know, I don't sing 
 secular songs." 
 
 " So you told me," Anne assented nonchalantly. 
 
 As he watched the warmth of Miss Yates's 
 manner and the chill of Mrs. Blythe's, Walford 
 felt a bewilderment stealing over him like the 
 fog which rises where the Gulf Stream meets the 
 Labrador Current. 
 
 "No," Eunice continued, with dreamy eyes 
 fixed on the distant hills. "For others of course 
 it may be right; but for me, my singing is only 
 a way of speaking to the heart, so I would have 
 it speak of the highest things, and of those alone." 
 
 She turned and smiled softly at Walford, who 
 looked at her with a quick little nod of assent. 
 
 "A beautiful nature ! " thought he, and noticed 
 with a painful contraction of his heart the indif- 
 ferent shrug with which Mrs. Blythe greeted the
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 147 
 
 remark. Had she grown so hardened that she 
 ceased to respond to noble words like these *? 
 He could not bear to think it, and yet he told 
 himself that he was prepared for anything. His 
 mind had traveled over a long road in these past 
 ten months. The windings had been devious 
 and the guidance uncertain. The thought of 
 Anne's guilt, which had cut him to the soul at 
 first, had grown familiar. He had not lived so 
 long in the metropolitan world without realizing 
 how frequent such things were. It had long ago 
 ceased to seem impossible ; it was rapidly ceasing 
 to seem improbable ; and yet he had not stood 
 in Anne's presence five minutes before he felt 
 the return of her old empire over him, and he 
 was consumed with a wild desire to confront her 
 with the letter, to demand the truth, to know the 
 worst or the best at once. 
 
 Even now his pulses thrilled as he heard his 
 name spoken by her voice. So quickly did his 
 heart beat that he scarcely caught the substance 
 of her words ; but at last he gathered that she 
 was telling him of the musicale. It was to be 
 the next afternoon very informal; but one or 
 two artists had promised their services, and Miss 
 Yates was to be the star. 
 
 " Miss Yates sings very well, I assure you. I 
 hope you will come to hear her."
 
 148 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Walford bowed his thanks and assent. In a 
 pause he turned to the Bishop, who had been 
 studying the young clergyman as closely as 
 Walford had regarded the two women. 
 
 " I don't think, Bishop Alston," said Walford, 
 "that I quite understand what you were saying 
 just now about the Church attracting rather than 
 compelling." 
 
 " Ah," thought the Bishop, " he is afraid that I 
 am going to ask him about himself. He need 
 not fear. I shall learn all that I need to know 
 and more without the brutality of the direct 
 question." Aloud he said : 
 
 "There are two views of the Church the 
 sacramental and the institutional. In common 
 with many broad-churchmen, I incline to the 
 latter view. To my mind, the Church of Eng- 
 land is the best religious machine in the world. 
 Her task is harder, in some respects, than that of the 
 Roman Church, for she deals with men who can cut 
 the connection at will, and yet she keeps her hold 
 on them generation after generation. And how ? " 
 
 " By offering to take their religious thinking 
 off their hands," said Anne, whereat Walford 
 decided that she was flippant, and of a flippant 
 woman what might not be true? His vague 
 suspicions returned in full force. 
 
 The Bishop received the remark calmly.
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 149 
 
 "Not altogether that," he answered mildly. 
 " The people in any sect who really think must 
 always be numerically insignificant ; but there is 
 nothing of which men are so jealous as of their 
 right to think if they should ever take a fancy to 
 do so. Now the Church is strong just here in 
 her combined firmness and elasticity. For her 
 thinkers she has her reserves in store, the best 
 and wisest of all her provisions, the right of pri- 
 vate interpretation. Of course we got it from 
 the Jesuits, and they, for all I know, from the 
 Roman augurs, and they from the Egyptian 
 priests. Be this as it may, the device works to 
 perfection. If the Westminster Catechism were 
 ours it would give us no trouble. The catechism 
 asks : ' What is the chief end of man ? ' The 
 old theologian would answer: 'To glorify God 
 and enjoy him forever.' The modern rationalist 
 would translate this : ' To glorify Good and enjoy 
 it as long as I live.' Then they would go on 
 comfortably together." 
 
 " But does not this private interpretation en- 
 courage doubt ? " ventured Walford, who had 
 observed a respectful but dissenting silence. 
 
 " Very likely ; but the people who as believers 
 have no doubt in their minds, as skeptics would 
 have no mind in their doubts. They are the 
 least valuable part of the community."
 
 150 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " * Faith is a passionate intuition,' " said Eunice 
 Yates, rising as if she were pronouncing a bene- 
 diction. The others rose too. 
 
 There was a moment's pause. Eunice broke 
 it, saying: "I had a letter from Tom at Monte 
 Carlo this morning. He arrives to-night." 
 
 Walford looked at Anne ; but her manner of 
 receiving the news told him nothing. 
 
 " Tom is enjoying Monte Carlo, and he detests 
 Florence ; but he is coming merely to be with us." 
 
 " He is a devoted brother," volunteered Anne, 
 amiably. 
 
 " He is a devoted everything" Miss Yates re- 
 plied inscrutably, and then turned to walk toward 
 the gate with the Bishop. 
 
 Walford remained standing with Anne, who 
 followed her cousin with a " Till to-morrow 
 evening, then, Eunice, and I will send the car- 
 riage." 
 
 The young clergyman gripped his hat tightly, 
 as was his habit when embarrassed. 
 
 "Mrs. Blythe," he said at last, "I stopped 
 in Florence and came here to-day to see you on 
 a special errand." 
 
 The color flashed up to Anne's brow and re- 
 treated. Her eyelids fell till their lashes lay long 
 and shadowy on her crimson cheek. " Yes ? " 
 was all she said.
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 151 
 
 " I promised to place a certain letter in your 
 hands a letter which I did not dare to trust to 
 the vagrant Continental mails. I have it here." 
 And thrusting his hand into his breast-pocket, he 
 handed Anne an envelope addressed in his own 
 writing. 
 
 " A letter ! " exclaimed Mrs. Blythe, opening 
 the wide astonishment of her glance full upon 
 him. " How mysterious ! And do you happen 
 to know its contents ? " 
 
 If a bomb had exploded under Walford's feet 
 he could hardly have been more confounded. 
 Up to this time he had pictured Mrs. Blythe in 
 almost every attitude : confessing her guilt, beg- 
 ging for his sympathy, or flaming into indigna- 
 tion at the calumny; but this smiling, casual 
 question suddenly changed all roles. How was 
 it that he had never thought of this 4 ? 
 
 "Why I I that is, Mrs. Blythe, I 
 cannot explain now " (seeing the Bishop coming 
 toward them after escorting Miss Yates to the 
 gate). " But would you be good enough to give 
 me back the letter till I find a chance to explain*? " 
 
 " Give you back my mysterious letter ? Oh, 
 impossible ! How high you rate a woman's self- 
 control, or how low her curiosity ! I '11 tell you : 
 I will read the letter first and hear your explanation 
 afterward. You say you have read it already *? "
 
 152 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 A man with less principle would have lied ; a 
 man with more experience would have evaded. 
 Walford could do neither. He strove to plunge 
 into the depths of self-exculpation, only to be 
 caught in the eel-grass of self-consciousness. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mrs. Blythe " he began. 
 
 But at this critical moment the Bishop rejoined 
 them, and Walford was obliged to take his leave 
 without even an appointment for an interview. 
 
 As the iron gate closed behind him Mrs. 
 Blythe rose from her chair and walked to the 
 balustrade, which ran the length of the terrace. 
 She leaned upon its broad top. Her gaze swept 
 the hillside, with the valley at its foot and the 
 narrow pathway which wound precipitously from 
 highway to highway, cutting off half the distance 
 for the pedestrian. 
 
 " Yes," Anne said at last, " I thought so." 
 
 The cause of this remark was the sight of a 
 slender figure in gray, seated on a slab of old 
 yellow marble placed close to the path for the 
 benefit of wayfarers, in a clearing which gave a 
 wide view of hill and valley. The gray gown, 
 as Anne instantly noted, belonged to Eunice 
 Yates, who with raised arm and extended finger 
 was pointing out the beauty of the landscape to 
 the stolid Italian maid at her elbow. 
 
 In a few minutes another figure, tall and black-
 
 UP AT THE VILLA 153 
 
 coated, wound its way through the trees and 
 reached the bench. Then the gray figure rose, 
 and the three went on down the hill together. 
 
 " Cleverly done, my lady ! " exclaimed Anne, 
 half aloud. With a not wholly genial smile, she 
 turned and began to pace the terrace back and 
 forth, striking her lips softly with the envelope 
 which she held in her fingers.
 
 X 
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 
 
 " Our faults no tenderness should ask, 
 
 The chastening stripes must cleanse them all ; 
 But for our blunders, oh, in shame 
 Before the eyes of Heaven we fall ! " 
 
 ^ I ^HE architect of the Villa Piacevole had 
 JL built it of white stucco, with a loggia and 
 a vine-covered pergola. A terrace bounded by 
 a marble balustrade lay in front. Its steps led 
 down to the garden, which was Mrs. Blythe's 
 particular pride, and laid out, as befitted an 
 Italian garden, in delightful stiff little walks 
 hedged with box, and leading nowhere. In one 
 corner a Roman amphora leaned forgotten against 
 the vine-grown wall. At the head of the garden, 
 beneath a clump of ilex-trees, stood a stone bench 
 fashioned after one in the Boboli Gardens. It 
 had no back and was far from comfortable, yet 
 Anne had a strange fancy for it, and sat there 
 dreaming away long hours in the still spring
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 155 
 
 afternoons, breathing in the fragrance of the 
 plum-trees, and watching the faint silvery green 
 of the olive slopes. 
 
 But the thing which most often attracted her 
 eye was a sun-dial of yellow marble, brought 
 from the ruins of an old Mantuan villa, and set 
 up afresh here in Fiesole. Around the dial-plate 
 was carved a ring of cupids, and twisting in 
 among them ran a line from Dante : 
 
 " L' amor die muove il sol e 1* altre stelle." 
 
 Anne looked at it so often that at last it sang 
 itself in her memory, and she liked the dial the 
 better for the inscription's sake. Yet she did not 
 wholly accept its burden, and sometimes won- 
 dered as she looked : " After all, does love move 
 the sun and stars or even this earth of ours *? " 
 
 On the afternoon of the musicale, Walford 
 walked up the hill leading to Mrs. Blythe's villa, 
 past gray walls hung with creeping vines, paus- 
 ing every now and then to look at the scene 
 behind him, as if unwilling to face what lay 
 before. The terrace was alive with people when 
 Walford reached the villa. He had already 
 learned through his New York experiences to 
 avoid the dull first hour of a function. More- 
 over, he had his own reasons for preferring to
 
 156 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 arrive with the crowd. Now he and the samovar 
 presented themselves together just as the sun was 
 preparing to take his leave and making his bow 
 over the shoulder of the hills. 
 
 The candles were lighted in the delightfully 
 bare, sophisticatedly simple salon, and their 
 twinkle contrasted oddly with the diffused sunset 
 glow on the terrace. For a few moments Wai- 
 ford stood still, neglecting to seek his hostess, 
 and interested in taking in the company as a 
 whole before speaking with those whom he knew 
 here and there. 
 
 It was a curiously mixed assemblage. The 
 American Ambassador to St. Petersburg, having 
 given himself leave of absence for a few weeks 
 in Rome, now loitering on his way back to his 
 post, was talking in a corner with Bishop Alston; 
 Lord and Lady Campbell were explaining the 
 view to their daughters, the Honorable Beatrice 
 and the Honorable Virginia, who received the 
 information with an upper-crustacean languor. 
 A rich California woman, recently divorced and 
 soon to marry an Italian count, presided at the 
 samovar. 
 
 The polyglot conversation carried on among 
 some Russian and Roman artists floated about 
 Walford's ears, now blending with, now rising 
 above, the strains of the Brahms Hungarian
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 157 
 
 dances played by a trio in the salon. As Wai- 
 ford looked and listened, the scene struck some 
 vibrating chord in his memory. Once more the 
 picture in the Blythe drawing-room rose before 
 him. He could see the little novice in her white 
 veil, the candles twinkling like those within, 
 the crowd of bejeweled bystanders, and the sad 
 sisterhood waiting to receive the newcomer. 
 Strangely enough, the scene seemed to blend 
 with the one before him ; but in place of the 
 golden-haired girl, he saw himself, his life about 
 to be stripped of all that made its charm, and 
 sacrificed yes, he might as well call things by 
 their right names sacrificed in that lonely 
 island of a distant sea. 
 
 He shook off the unwelcome thought, and 
 turned his eyes to the center of the terrace, 
 where Mrs. Blythe stood. Tom Yates hovered 
 beside her, and awaited his chance to secure her 
 attention. Anne was at her best. Her color 
 was high, her eyes bright, her voice low, but 
 filled with a ripple of laughter. 
 
 Walford had his own reasons for not joining 
 the group around Mrs. Blythe too hastily. Had 
 she read the letter ? If so, what were her emo- 
 tions, and what were her feelings toward the 
 man who had read it also ? He was sure that her 
 manner would tell him something. He felt that
 
 158 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 he would rather not receive the information in 
 public. So he simply stood still and watched 
 her; yet her spell lay on him more heavily than 
 on any man in the group about her. A know- 
 ledge of soul-secrets tells both ways. 
 
 Walford studied Yates closely, but learned 
 little from the scrutiny. His manner was de- 
 voted, certainly, but not beyond that of the 
 other men, and there was no suggestion of mutual 
 understanding. Still here Walford's wander- 
 ing gaze rested on the familiar figure of a man 
 lounging in the doorway, playing with his eye- 
 glasses, and regarding the company with critical 
 aloofness through lazy eyelids. It was Blair 
 Fleming, as Walford saw at a glance, and beside 
 him stood a half-grown lad listening with eager- 
 ness to the melancholy, delirious music. " Oh," 
 Walford said to himself, " I remember now to 
 have heard that Fleming was spending the win- 
 ter in Rome on account of Newton's invalid son." 
 Here he caught Fleming's eye, and crossed the 
 terrace, bowing in passing to his hostess, but 
 scarcely pausing for more than the bow of 
 greeting. 
 
 " Ah, Fleming," Walford exclaimed, with the 
 genial manner which had won a score of parish- 
 ioners for St. Simeon's, " this is a pleasure ! 
 Who would have predicted, when we lunched
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 159 
 
 together at the Fifth Avenue Club last spring, 
 that our next meeting would be in Florence ? " 
 
 The touch of professionalism in Walford's 
 tone annoyed Fleming. 
 
 " Who could *? " was all he said in response. 
 
 Fleming was one of the few men who can 
 drop a subject without breaking it. Walford 
 felt his effusiveness checked. He was irritated 
 thereby, and was impelled to a remark of the 
 unwisdom of which he was fully aware, or would 
 have been had he not been completely off his 
 mental balance as the result of a sleepless night, 
 spent in wrestling with an unsolvable problem. 
 
 "Have you seen Yates here to-night?" he 
 asked in a constrained tone. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Curious that he should have deserted New 
 York at the busiest season of the year a man 
 so absorbed in business as he ! " 
 
 " We have all done it, it seems.** 
 
 " Then you have no suspicion as to what 
 brought him *? " 
 
 " If I felt enough interest in his movements 
 to attempt a reason for his coming, I should say 
 that his sister's presence was reason enough." 
 
 " Still, I suspect he had another." 
 
 "Very likely. Mixed motives are common 
 to mankind."
 
 160 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " I think he is in love with Mrs. Blythe." 
 
 " More than probable," Fleming assented 
 coolly. 
 
 " I think that he has been in love with her for 
 years," Walford rushed on, maddened by the 
 calmness of the other man. " For years," he re- 
 peated " before her husband's death ; and that 
 she returned it." 
 
 Fleming's stare of blank amazement infuriated 
 Walford still further. All night he had been 
 going over yesterday's interview with Mrs. 
 Blythe, and always with a growing sense of 
 mortification, and an intolerable consciousness 
 of wounded vanity. Fleming's cool contempt 
 drove him mad. 
 
 " You can afford to hear me calmly," he cried, 
 " for you have known it all along." 
 
 Fleming put on his glasses, tilting his chin 
 upward a little as he did so, looked at Walford 
 for a moment, and then said quietly : 
 
 "Mr. Walford, if you have any common 
 sense left use it ! " 
 
 To himself he wondered: "What can the 
 man mean? Does he realize what he is saying 
 that he is making such an accusation as this 
 against a woman whose guest he is, and to an- 
 other guest, at that ? Surely he was not such a 
 cad a year ago."
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 161 
 
 Fleming, like the rest of us, judged a man by 
 results, without taking the pains to follow pro- 
 cesses. Could he have traced the workings of 
 Walford's mind through these ten troublous 
 months, he might have had more comprehen- 
 sion and therefore more tolerance. 
 
 Walford opened trembling lips to reply ; but 
 he was interrupted by a murmur, " Miss Yates is 
 going to sing," followed by a general movement 
 from without toward the doors and windows of 
 the salon, where Eunice Yates sat with her harp 
 against a background of dark wood. 
 
 The gold-framed triptych above her head was 
 matched by the fillet in her hair. The flowing 
 sleeves fell back and left her arms bare. The 
 square, gold-embroidered neck of her gown left 
 her throat likewise bare, and like her arms it was 
 as white as snow. " St. Cecilia," said some one, 
 and then another said, " Hush ! " as the white 
 hands swept their first chord and the pure soprano 
 voice began Gounod's "Ave Maria." 
 
 When the song was over Eunice Yates had 
 won her place. The women congratulated Mrs. 
 Blythe on such a protegee. The rich Californian 
 asked if Miss Yates sang for money, and the 
 English girls wiped their blue eyes and tried to 
 say something and could not. 
 
 The Bishop, after handing a cup of tea to the
 
 162 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 wife of the Ambassador, settled himself comfort- 
 ably in a portly arm-chair and turned his spec- 
 tacled glance in the direction of the singer. Wai- 
 ford was talking to her, leaning his arm on the 
 top of the harp and bending over in an attitude 
 of devotion. A smile which in a worldling 
 might have been called cynical dawned on the 
 Bishop's face. " How much easier to coddle out 
 izeal than to crush it out ! " he murmured under 
 his breath. 
 
 Two other observers were taking in the tableau 
 of St. Cecilia. Mrs. Blythe and Fleming stood 
 side by side, a little apart from the company on 
 the terrace. From their corner they had an un- 
 interrupted view of the brightly lighted salon, 
 of which Eunice Yates was for the time being 
 the central figure. For some moments neither 
 spoke. At last Fleming observed : 
 
 " How well they suit each other ! " 
 
 "Not in the least!" answered Mrs. Blythe, 
 with decision. 
 
 " Well, now let us see," said her companion, 
 with an air of judicial calmness. "They are both 
 handsome you admit that." 
 
 " Yes, I admit that." 
 
 "Both have charm magnetism call it what 
 you will." 
 
 Ye e-s."
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 163 
 
 " You speak doubtfully. You don't, perhaps, 
 feel Mr. Walford's charm." 
 
 " Oh, he ! There is no doubt about kirn, I 
 should say. It is Eunice about whom I hesi- 
 tated. I realize her power, I see others swayed 
 by it, and yet, for my life, I cannot help holding 
 back and analyzing it, and in the end resent- 
 ing it." 
 
 " Curious ! " said Fleming. " That is precisely 
 the way I feel about Walford. But there 's an- 
 other point in common which will be sure to draw 
 them together. They both have such high aims ! " 
 
 "You don't really believe in Eunice's senti- 
 ments ? " 
 
 " Do you in Stuart Walford's ? " 
 
 Anne looked down, and began to pull to 
 pieces the rose which she held in her hand. "If 
 you had asked me that question ten months ago," 
 she said at last, " I should have resented it. Then 
 I thought Mr. Walford the noblest man I ever 
 knew. If you had asked it last week I should 
 have argued, refuted, rebelled ; but I should have 
 listened. To-night I don't know I think," 
 she said, flushing suddenly rosy red " I think I 
 am awfully near being in love with Mr. Walford ; 
 but something holds me back. I tell you all 
 this because you let me make a sort of father 
 confessor of you there in Rome."
 
 164 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Fleming was silent for several moments. At 
 length he said : " I am not surprised. Walford 
 was sure to appeal to a woman like you cer- 
 tainly at first." 
 
 "He did he does. But I have learned a 
 great deal of myself, among other things in 
 these ten months, and and I don't take people 
 so much at their face value. Sometimes I wish 
 I did. When Mr. Walford wrote me that he 
 was coming to Florence and coming to see me, I 
 felt I can't tell you just what I felt; but it was 
 excitement, anticipation, and pleased vanity, and 
 perhaps something a little deeper. I 'm afraid 
 this is boring you." 
 
 " Assume that it does n't bore me, please, and 
 go on." 
 
 " Well, before I had been with him half an 
 hour I realized that he was changed in some 
 way. He was more polished, and all that, than 
 a year ago ; but he did not seem like the same 
 man." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " He had lost the dignity of simplicity with- 
 out attaining the distinction of a man of the 
 world. He was more self-conscious, bent on 
 making a good impression on my uncle and let- 
 ting him know what a success he was making; 
 but, besides that, he seemed to have lost his
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 165 
 
 frankness, to be keeping something back, and 
 the old expression was gone from his eyes when 
 he looked at me. Somehow, distrust seemed to 
 have taken the place of the old friendliness and 
 sympathy." 
 
 Fleming remembered Walford's words of a 
 few minutes ago, and felt that he might, if he 
 would, shed a flood of light on his behavior to 
 Mrs. Blythe. He only smiled, however, and 
 said : 
 
 " Perhaps the old feeling was not merely 
 friendliness, and that is what 's the matter." 
 
 " I have thought of that," said Anne, simply, 
 " and I think, in a way, it is true ; but it does n't 
 account for his manner." 
 
 Fleming let a long pause fall. Then he said 
 calmly : 
 
 " If I were you, I would let Eunice Yates 
 have him." 
 
 " But I want him for my salon. He 's such 
 good material." 
 
 " Would his devotion to Miss Yates interfere 
 with that?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; he would n't care to come if he 
 were n't a little well, a little interested." 
 
 " Then I am to understand that the salon is to 
 be made up exclusively of people who are *a 
 little interested.'"
 
 1 66 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "No, not exactly, because then we should 
 miss you, and you count for something." 
 
 " Yes, that would certainly shut me out," said 
 Fleming, with a smile that dislodged his glasses. 
 He readjusted them with two fingers. 
 
 "No, Eunice cannot have him," said Anne, 
 returning to the charge ; " at least, not yet. He 
 may not be all that my fancy painted him, but 
 he 's much too good for her." 
 
 " Fleming, judge, dissenting," commented her 
 companion, stepping back as Lady Campbell 
 came up to speak her adieus to her hostess. 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said Lady Campbell, " we 
 are off in a fortnight. I shall be quite too awfully 
 sorry to say good-by to you ; but remember you 
 are to give us a week at the Hall in the autumn. 
 I shall ask the jolliest people we know to meet 
 you." 
 
 Anne murmured some response and walked 
 toward the steps with her guest, leaving Fleming 
 alone. He turned his back to the company, and 
 strolled to the edge of the terrace. Fixing his 
 gaze on the bulk of the Duomo, he began a very 
 plain talk with himself. 
 
 "Sir Jackass, whose other name is Blair 
 Fleming, it is not your fault that you belong 
 to the ancient and honorable order of Donkeys. 
 That you can't help ; but it is still in your power
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 167 
 
 to be an honest donkey, and not to commit an 
 act which would cause you to hang your head 
 and bray with shame for the rest of your life. 
 Ask her to marry you ? Asinine is no word for 
 it. * My dear Mrs. Blythe, would n't you like 
 to give up several millions of dollars, a house on 
 the Avenue, and what your poor little imagina- 
 tion conjures up as social celebrity, for obscurity 
 and a side street with a man of forty who has 
 neither achieved greatness nor had it thrust upon 
 him ? ' Sounds well, does n't it ? Bah ! " And 
 Anne, would she not think had she not per- 
 haps already thought that in the first interview 
 after Mr. Blythe's death, when he advised her to 
 come to some sort of compromise with the 
 Yateses, he had thoughts of entering the lists 
 himself; that there was greed underlying his 
 counsel ? Oh, humiliating, degrading, disgust- 
 ing ! That way madness lay. And yet to let her 
 marry Walford without an effort to prevent it! 
 
 He strode hastily across the terrace toward 
 young Newton, who sat crouched in a corner 
 of the salon, oblivious of his surroundings. 
 "George," he said, " it is time for you and me to 
 be leaving. Come along and say good evening 
 to Mrs. Blythe." 
 
 " Not quite yet, please. Could n't we wait just 
 ten minutes ? Perhaps she will sing again."
 
 i68 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 '' * She ' being Miss Yates, I suppose." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 Fleming good-naturedly assented, and stood 
 over the boy, leaning against the wall. 
 
 " Mr. Fleming " 
 
 " Yes, George." 
 
 "Do you think she would let me thank 
 her?" 
 
 " I advise you to risk it. I Ve known a good 
 many artists, and I never saw one become vio- 
 lently indignant at a respectful expression of 
 admiration, or 'appreciation,' as they call it. 
 Come over, if you like, and I '11 present you 
 now. Miss Yates, here is a young man who 
 wishes to thank you for past favors, and is trying 
 to screw up courage to ask for more." 
 
 George stood by with blushing ears, looking 
 like a tortured sheep, till a sibylline smile from 
 Eunice put him sweetly at his ease. 
 
 " You sing perhaps yourself? " she asked. 
 
 "No; oh, no! I only scrape a little on the 
 violin." 
 
 " Ah, that is better ! A violin does perfectly 
 and steadily what the voice does only imper- 
 fectly and uncertainly. A violin may take cold 
 and grow hoarse ; but it never breaks down from 
 excess of feeling. I am afraid I could not sing 
 again to-night; I have felt too much."
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 169 
 
 George was in an agony at the thought of 
 having forced so intimate a confession from such 
 a being, but Fleming took the situation quite 
 composedly. 
 
 " It seems audacious, after you say that, to 
 urge you further, and yet I am impelled by the 
 prospect of being kept awake by the plaints of 
 this young cormorant. Is n't there something in 
 your music-roll which makes less demand on the 
 voice and on the emotions than the 'Ave Maria' V " 
 
 " Since you wish it, Mr. Fleming," Miss Yates 
 answered, with a delicate emphasis on the pro- 
 noun, " I will try. Yes, my music-roll is in the 
 corner. Perhaps Mr. Newton will bring it." 
 
 Eunice's voice flattered. It made her words 
 of secondary importance. 
 
 George was in the seventh heaven of delight, 
 and further transported by the look with which 
 Miss Yates received the music-roll. He felt 
 himself not only drawn within the circle of a 
 beautiful woman's intimacy, but made one of the 
 glorious company of musicians, the preeminent 
 society of the world. 
 
 Miss Yates left her harp and stood by the 
 piano. The accompanist glanced over the music 
 and struck a few chords. Then Eunice began : 
 
 " Angels, ever bright and fair, 
 Take, oh, take me to your care!"
 
 170 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 With the first notes the leave-taking crowd 
 halted, turned, and trooped back to doors and 
 windows. The rendering was not as finished as 
 in the " Ave," but there was a vibrant sweetness, 
 a simplicity, which touched the heart more. 
 George Newton half expected that her white- 
 robed sisters would come at her call, to bear her 
 out of his sight forever, and even Fleming caught 
 his breath and wondered if Anne might not be a 
 little prejudiced. 
 
 When the song ended, George gave a long, 
 gasping sigh, as if he were coming to life out of 
 some ecstatic trance. 
 
 " Come, my boy," said Fleming's voice in his 
 ears ; " you have heard enough now to dream of 
 o' nights for a month. We must be going." 
 
 The lad assented, nothing loath. What was 
 there worth staying for longer ? 
 
 So Fleming and his charge slipped out with 
 the departing throng, which lessened rapidly till 
 all were gone except Eunice Yates, slowly don- 
 ning her wraps in the dressing-room ; her brother, 
 explaining the merits of his new touring-car to 
 the Bishop on the terrace ; and Walford, who 
 hesitated in the doorway. 
 
 " What a supreme actress that woman is! " he 
 thought as he caught the brilliant smile with 
 which Mrs. Blythe sped the last of her departing
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 171 
 
 guests. To have just learned that her secret was 
 discovered, that it was in the possession of one 
 of the men about her, and yet to bear herself 
 with this gay nonchalance it was incredible. 
 And yet, suppose her innocent*? Then, to throw 
 off the accusation so, as a mere nothing, argued 
 a levity worse than guilt. No, however he looked 
 at it, Anne was hopelessly . lost to his esteem. 
 But there still remained a problem of some in- 
 terest, and that was how did be stand in her 
 esteem ? The moment for the test had come, 
 and he determined to learn whether she had for- 
 given him whether she ever would forgive his 
 stripping off her mask. 
 
 Slowly he drew near to where she stood under 
 the full blaze of the Venetian chandelier. She 
 was superb to-night. He almost wished that he 
 had put off the tragic moment ; but it was too 
 late now for regrets. Mrs. Blythe had caught 
 sight of him, and as he approached she drew 
 from the folds of her dress the letter which he 
 had given her the day before. 
 
 " See ! " she exclaimed, as she held it up gaily. 
 " Honor and a sense of gratitude have held out 
 so far; but curiosity is storming the citadel. I 
 have not opened the letter yet; but if you have 
 explanations to offer, prepare to shed them now." 
 
 Walford was still smarting under the contempt
 
 172 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 in Fleming's voice, and he was aware of a strange 
 contradictory feeling that he could almost wish 
 to see this woman before him humiliated. Her 
 confession would be his justification. He had 
 thought about this thing till his mind was warped 
 and he could see nothing straight. Besides, what 
 real explanations had he to offer for having read 
 the letter *? Perhaps the best excuse would have 
 been to tell her that he loved her and had been 
 driven half mad with jealousy at the words on 
 which his eyes had fallen. But he could not go 
 into all this here and now ; and even if he could, 
 it looked like a poor shelter. 
 
 " Go on ! " he said with dry lips which failed 
 pitifully in their effort at a smile. " Never mind 
 the explanation ! After all, it is of no conse- 
 quence. Read the letter ! I had it from a dying 
 woman, and one may look for truth there ! " 
 
 Anne felt her heart beat heavily. Something 
 in Walford's voice told her that this was no jest- 
 ing matter, and yet she could not step so easily 
 from the social surface gaiety to the tragedy of 
 real life. With the smile still on her lips, she 
 opened the envelope addressed to her in Wai- 
 ford's handwriting and unfolded the sheet. 
 
 " From Dick ! " she exclaimed. Her hand 
 trembled; her cheeks paled. Breathlessly she 
 read on to the foot of the page, then turned the
 
 JO1 ' THLNUEKEU YATES BKl.NOl.NG HIS HAND DOWN liAHU."
 
 IN WHICH WALFORD LEARNS 175 
 
 leaf, and never faltered till the close. At the end 
 she looked up, and her eyes met those of Tom 
 Yates, who chanced to be entering at the door. 
 
 " Read that ! " she said. '* It is from my hus- 
 band to his mistress." 
 
 Yates took the letter in some bewilderment. 
 His face darkened as he read, and his lips moved, 
 but uttered no word. Anne's eyes never left his 
 face. When he had finished, she said simply: 
 
 " Was it true ? Did you care for me, then ? " 
 
 " I did, Anne. I could /i't help it." 
 
 " And did you ever say or do anything which 
 could have led me to suspect how you felt ? " 
 
 " Before God, no I " thundered Yates, bringing 
 his hand down hard on the edge of the malachite 
 table. 
 
 Anne extended her hand. 
 
 "Very well, Tom. Is that all that you wish 
 to know, Mr. Walford ? " 
 
 Mrs. Blythc swept a courtesy of dismissal to 
 Walford, who stood silent and dazed for an in- 
 stant, then bowed low enough to hide the mor- 
 tified crimson of his cheeks. As he withdrew he 
 saw her take Yates's hand in both hers and heard 
 her say : 
 
 " Thank you, Tom. Thank you for not tell- 
 ing me and thank you for caring! "
 
 XI 
 
 FINE ARTS 
 " He feedeth on ashes : a deceived heart hath turned him aside." 
 
 IT is a long distance from the Fiesole heights 
 to the Accademia delle Belle Arti; but to 
 Tom Yates it looked only too short in prospect, 
 for Anne Blythe had promised to traverse it with 
 him, and he was waiting impatiently in the little 
 salon for her appearance. It was not strange, 
 perhaps, that he should have built high hopes 
 upon the warmth of her manner to him on the 
 night of the musicale. It is hard for a man to 
 realize that there is often a tertium quid to be 
 reckoned with in considering a woman's manner, 
 and that that third something is her calculation 
 of its effect upon some other man. 
 
 Another thing which he could not be expected 
 to take in by intuition was Mrs. Blythe's motive 
 in assenting at once and cordially to his sugges- 
 tion of this walk. In fact, it was a very compli- 
 
 176
 
 FINE ARTS 177 
 
 cated motive, and might have resolved itself into 
 several. In the first place, she wished to talk 
 with him alone and uninterrupted. In the second 
 place, she wished at once to let down the situ- 
 ation from the plane of high tragedy on which 
 the scene of the musicale had left it. In the third 
 place, she thought Walford might still be in 
 Florence, and she wished to show him that she 
 defied his interpretation of her conduct. Finally, 
 she thought that it would be endlessly diverting 
 to see Tom Yates wandering among the early 
 Tuscan painters. Poor Tom ! As I say, he 
 could not know all this, and so he sat in the 
 salon of Mrs. Blythe's villa, in great satisfaction 
 with himself and the world, awaiting Anne's 
 entrance. 
 
 The mina-bird perched in equal content upon 
 a gilded pedestal in the corner and surveyed 
 Yates, with his head cocked on one side in droll 
 imitation of the way in which Mrs. Blythe car- 
 ried hers, and a diabolical acutcness shining in 
 his beady black eyes. Every once in a while 
 he burst into a hoarse uncanny cackle, which 
 for some reason Yates found extremely discon- 
 certing. 
 
 Anne entered the room, wearing a gown of 
 gray corduroy, with a bunch of jonquils at her 
 belt, and gloves of yellow chamois leather. It
 
 178 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 was the first touch of color that Yates had seen 
 her wear since her husband's death, and it uncon- 
 sciously raised his hopes; but the mina-bird's 
 ominous croaking still lingered in its exasperating 
 persistence. 
 
 " Anne," Yates remarked, strolling in the direc- 
 tion of the gilt pedestal, "what would you say if 
 I wrung the neck of that black bird of yours?" 
 
 " Say *? I should say that I quite understood 
 the feeling which led you to the deed, in fact, 
 I have often experienced a similar impulse my- 
 self, but I should also say that the execution 
 of the intent was injudicious. ' Conscience ' is 
 under the protection of the infernal powers, and 
 if you succeeded in destroying the mortal part of 
 him, his astral body would haunt you, and 
 tendings' of impalpable black-winged things 
 would appear in your room at midnight." 
 
 Again the croaking laugh from the perch. 
 
 Anne and Yates laughed also, and walked 
 slowly toward the door, Mrs. Blythe buttoning 
 her gloves and Yates carrying her yellow-lined 
 gray parasol. 
 
 As they descended the hill in the direction of 
 the Porta San Gallo, Tom looked down with 
 approval at Mrs. Blythe's low shoes, stout with- 
 out clumsiness, and loose without bigness. " I 
 am glad, Anne," he said, " that you brought over
 
 FINE ARTS 179 
 
 enough American shoes to last. They don't 
 know how to make them over here." 
 
 "No," said Anne, indifferently; "I don't think 
 they do." 
 
 " Nor anything else, to my mind." 
 
 " Oh, I can't go so far as that." 
 
 Yates rejoined with a querulous accent : 
 " What you find over here to fall in love with, 
 I cannot see. There 's the Pitti [Yates pro- 
 nounced it fity\. Don't it look just like Sing 
 Sing prison *? Now tell me honestly if it don't 
 remind you of it." 
 
 " It does a little, perhaps," Anne admitted 
 candidly ; " but then I think our prisons are the 
 best buildings we have." 
 
 " And these narrow streets do you like these 
 too?" 
 
 " Why, Tom, it is n't the buildings, nor the 
 streets, nor the pictures, nor the music, though I 
 do care for them all in a way that I don't suppose 
 I could make you understand. It 's all of them 
 together, and, more than that, it 's the way of 
 living. Here, for hundreds of years, people have 
 been at work building up a delightful life for me 
 to live. Now, why should I throw away these 
 advantages and go over to America to help build 
 up the same kind of life for people ten or fifteen 
 generations away ? "
 
 i8o FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " But it is so clean over there." 
 
 Anne laughed. 
 
 ** Yes, it is clean, and I like to be clean. 
 That 's why I took a villa instead of going into 
 one of the old palaces ; but when I have once 
 secured a little circle of cleanliness, with a bath- 
 tub in the center, I don't care about the rest of 
 the world. In fact, I like it a little dull and 
 worn. I grow tired of the new brass at home. 
 There 's old Tommaso's shop, for instance, in the 
 Via Porta Rosa. You have n't seen it *? Well, 
 I '11 take you there sometime, and show you brass 
 that is brass, all green in the creases, like Stilton 
 cheese, and with lovely vines and satyrs winding 
 in and out everywhere. And, oh, the little back 
 room ! That is best of all, with its altar can- 
 dlesticks and its benitiers. You buy them be- 
 fore you think, and then you wonder how you 're 
 going to get them home, and what you '11 do with 
 them after you do. That 's one of the delights 
 of Europe." 
 
 " It 's not that, Anne, you know it 's not; for 
 only the other day you told me that you hated 
 things, and that shopping was a punishment in- 
 vented to make the rich more miserable than the 
 poor." 
 
 Anne laughed a second time. 
 
 "What is it, then, that makes me love Eu-
 
 FINE ARTS 181 
 
 rope ? You tell, since you seem to understand 
 my sensations better than I do." 
 
 " It 's the people." 
 
 " Perhaps it is. I had n't thought of that. 
 Look there ! " 
 
 Tom turned and saw a pretty child, with eyes 
 as black as sloes, and braids to match, dancing 
 on the pavement, the yellow shawl knotted about 
 her waist showing bright against the green of her 
 short skirt. As she caught sight of them stand- 
 ing and gazing, she threw redoubled energy into 
 her dance and shouted, " Buon giorno I " as she 
 waved her hand toward them. 
 
 " Yes," said Anne, " I believe it is the people." 
 
 " I 'm blessed if I can sec why. I looked 
 round at your musicale, and thought how badly 
 dressed all the women were." 
 
 " Very likely. They don't have to make their 
 position by their dress, as we do. But the 
 men you must admit that they have more 
 distinction than those you 'd meet at a tea at 
 home." 
 
 " I don't know; I did n't notice the men par- 
 ticularly. Anne, have you given me a thought 
 since you 've been over here *? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Tom ; I 've given you two this 
 very morning." 
 
 " And am I to hear what they were ? "
 
 182 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " You may, if you wish, though I am afraid 
 you won't care for them." 
 
 " Tell me, anyway." 
 
 " Very well. First, then, you were drinking 
 last night." 
 
 "Now, how in thunder do you know that*?" 
 
 "Not by any Sherlock Holmes intuition, I 
 assure you. I simply heard you asking my but- 
 ler if there were any bottled soda in the house. 
 Bottle/ soda in the morning means a good deal, 
 as I learned to my sorrow in those years with 
 Dick." 
 
 "Was the other thought equally pleasant?" 
 
 " No, not quite." 
 
 " Then in Heaven's name tell it and have it 
 
 over!" 
 
 "Shall I really?" 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " You have been playing heavily at Monte 
 Carlo, and lost " 
 
 "Anne, I ivill wring the neck of that black 
 bird of yours. You send him out at night to 
 prowl about and bring you back bad news of 
 your neighbors. You know you do." 
 
 " I had n't thought of that before. It would n't 
 be a bad plan. Thank you for suggesting it. In 
 this case, however, I did not need Conscience's 
 services. Your letter to Eunice told us that you
 
 FINE ARTS 183 
 
 were at Monte Carlo. I knew that you did not 
 go there without playing, nor play without plung- 
 ing. As for losing, you would never have come 
 away so soon if you had not lost." 
 
 " Yes, I would to see you, Anne." 
 
 " No, no ; my society would keep, and a run 
 of luck would n't." 
 
 " You 're awfully hard on a man. I 'm not 
 such a bad fellow, though of course I 'm not 
 good, like you and Eunice." 
 
 " Don't bracket us together like that, please ; 
 I 'm not good like Eunice, either." 
 
 ** You don't care for Eunice, do you ? " 
 
 " Not particularly." 
 
 " She does for you, though." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 "Yes, she says she loves you, though you are 
 selfish and frivolous, and she prays for you every 
 night." 
 
 "Does she? Well, I wish she would n'L 
 She '11 just prejudice God against me, with her 
 little insinuations and her damaging petitions. 
 But never mind Eunice now. The reason I 
 spoke about Monte Carlo was to ask if I could n't 
 lend you some money. I 'd love to do it." 
 
 " Now your imagination has run away with 
 you, as it does with every clever woman in the 
 end. Why, it was only a matter of a few thou-
 
 184 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 sand. It was n't the money at all that troubled 
 me ; but I 'm not accustomed to lose, and I don't 
 like it" 
 
 " I have known that for a long time. You are 
 an ambitious man." 
 
 " I don't know. I have only two ambitions in 
 the world to make money and to marry you." 
 
 " But if you married me you would not need 
 to make money." 
 
 " Oh, that is a woman's way of looking at it. 
 Your fortune would only be a beginning. In 
 five years I would double it; in ten years you 
 would be the richest woman in America." 
 
 " In the first place, I doubt whether you could; 
 in the second place, I should not care if you did. 
 It would not interest me in the least to be ticketed 
 as the richest woman in America, any more than 
 the tallest woman, or the woman with the longest 
 hair. I don't care for money in itself. I like 
 the ease and luxury and exclusiveness ; but I 
 could not buy any more of them with ten times 
 my fortune. There is a limit, you know, and 
 I have reached it." 
 
 " But don't you see I 'm the only person you 
 can marry without giving up all these things ? " 
 
 This was a false move. Anne answered with 
 a slight upward motion of her head. 
 
 " That is a matter about which you need give
 
 FINE ARTS 185 
 
 yourself no anxiety. At least I shall have the 
 satisfaction of feeling that if I marry some one 
 else, my loss is your gain." 
 
 It was really unworthy of Anne Blythe, and 
 she knew it as soon as she had spoken; but there 
 are some people whose obtuseness makes them 
 as responsible as ourselves for our brutalities. 
 When a man cannot be made to feel with a 
 needle-point, who is not tempted to try a gimlet*? 
 
 When Yates spoke again it was sullenly. One 
 knew how he might speak to his wife ten years 
 hence. 
 
 " You need n't have said that. It was n't very 
 nice in you." 
 
 " Nice ? No, I should say not. It was hor- 
 rid, perfectly horrid. But don't you see how we 
 irritate each other, and if it 's like that in one 
 short morning walk,^what would it be if we tried 
 passing the whole of our lives together ? " 
 
 " But I love you, Anne. Does n't that make 
 a difference *? " 
 
 Yates looked so abjectly miserable that Anne 
 felt a pain at her heart. 
 
 " Yes, it does, Tom. It makes me awfully fond 
 of you. And then you 're so honest and outspoken, 
 and don't try to make yourself out better than you 
 are, or wear a halo with your every-day clothes, 
 like like some people. Besides, it was so good
 
 186 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 of you to care about me all that time when no- 
 body else did, and not to say a word or hint at 
 it that showed what stuff there was in you. 
 Really I do love you, Tom, and I want you 
 always to remember it, and say to yourself, 
 4 There 's some one that I can call on if ever I 'm 
 in trouble.' I think I have it in me to be as 
 good a friend as a man." 
 
 "And is that all, Anne? Is that the last 
 word ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear ; the very last." 
 
 Yates gulped down something very like a sob. 
 
 "But, Tom," Anne's voice faltered, and she 
 turned away her head a little, " don't let it make 
 a break between us. Please don't ! I have so 
 few friends, and I need them so much." 
 
 "Nonsense, Anne; look at all those people 
 the other night." 
 
 " Pooh ! They were acquaintances, not friends. 
 What I mean by a friend is a person who lets 
 you alone a good deal, perhaps, when things are 
 going well with you ; but once get into trouble, 
 there he is at your side, and all of a sudden it 
 does n't seem trouble any more, because he 's 
 there, and he believes in you through thick and 
 thin. And if people say nasty things about you, 
 he just smiles and lets them talk ; but he takes 
 your hand afterward, so it 's a comfort ; and you
 
 FINE ARTS 187 
 
 look into his eyes and you know what he thinks, 
 and then you don't care any more." 
 
 Anne was holding her head high, and the color 
 was flaming in her cheeks, red as the poppy-beds 
 they had left behind them on the hillsides. She 
 walked along the Via Cavour with the air of one 
 who scorned to change her state with kings. 
 
 Yates looked at her a little awed. He did 
 not know her in this mood. He was obliged to 
 quicken his footsteps to keep pace with her. 
 They walked on rapidly in silence till a turn 
 brought them to the gateway of San Marco. 
 
 Two people were coming out, and met them 
 face to face. Anne drew her breath sharply. 
 
 "Why, hulloa, Eunice!" exclaimed Tom. 
 " I thought you were going to a rehearsal this 
 morning. You said so when I left." 
 
 "It it was given up." 
 
 " No matter," said Anne ; " all forms of art are 
 equally desirable." 
 
 Eunice looked up quickly; then as quickly 
 her eyelids drooped and hid the expression of 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, I look back on Signer Paladino's illness 
 as almost providential, since it brought me a new 
 knowledge of Fra Angelico." Here she paused 
 an instant and added under her breath, "and of 
 Mr. Walford."
 
 i88 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Walford was looking down and nervously 
 fingering the black cross which he always wore. 
 Anne fixed her eyes upon him and studied him 
 calmly. 
 
 " Is it a place where I ought to go *? " asked 
 Yates, struggling valiantly with the difficulties 
 of the situation. " Any pictures in there worth 
 seeing *? " 
 
 " I am afraid, Tom," his sister answered sweetly, 
 " that the frescos would not please you. One 
 needs the artistic temperament and a deeply 
 spiritual nature to care for the Fra Angelicos. 
 We have been wandering around among them 
 in a foolish kind of rapture. But even you, 
 Tom, would be interested in the prior's cell, 
 where you see Savonarola's chair and his rosary 
 and hair shirt, and a piece of wood from the fire 
 in which he was burned. If you notice, Cousin 
 Anne, that my eyes are red, I may as well confess 
 that they drew the tears, these silent symbols of so 
 much useless sacrifice. I wish you could have 
 heard what Mr. Walford said of them, of what 
 a waste it all was, and how necessary it was to 
 see our way clearly before we rushed into mar- 
 tyrdom." 
 
 " Poor Savonarola ! " Anne exclaimed with a 
 slightly ironical emphasis. 
 
 " Yes, that '3 just the way in which Mr. Wai-
 
 FINE ARTS 189 
 
 ford spoke of him. He says he does so pity a 
 man who makes mistake in his life-work." 
 
 " All mistakes are pitiable," said Anne. For 
 the first time Walford raised his eyes ; but they 
 fell again before her calm, direct gaze. 
 
 " Some are unpardonable," he murmured. 
 
 Anne saw no reason for a response. She stood 
 looking at him with a sense of admiration of his 
 physical beauty, the sensitive mouth, the intel 
 lectual brow, and the impressive setting of the 
 head upon the shoulders; but, with all this, she 
 was conscious of an aloofness, as if he were no- 
 longer in her world. 
 
 After an instant's pause she turned to Yates r 
 saying : " Come, Tom ; if we are to get the 
 morning light on those pictures we must hurry. 
 Good morning, Mr. Walford. Good morning, 
 Eunice. And, Oh, by the way, next time we 
 meet will you try to remember the prescription 
 for my headache? You know you came up to 
 the villa on purpose to give it to me, but some- 
 thing must have driven it out of your mind." 
 
 Anne thrust the remark in to the hilt. Even 
 the men felt that something was amiss. 
 
 Eunice colored. 
 
 " Forgive me, Anne ! " she said gently ; and 
 then she and Walford turned away, while Mrs. 
 Blythe and her cousin went on toward the Ac-
 
 190 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 cademia. Before they had gone more than a 
 few steps Yates stopped short. 
 
 "Anne, how much do you care about seeing 
 those pictures ? " 
 
 " Not a brass farthing," Anne answered. 
 
 " Then, if you don't mind, suppose we don't 
 go in. I 'm not up to it." 
 
 " Very well ; let us go home," said Mrs. 
 Blythe ; and they turned on their steps, retracing 
 the way through the street, out at the city gates, 
 and up the long Fiesole hill. All the way they 
 scarcely spoke. When they reached the gate 
 of the villa, Mrs. Blythe broke the silence, saying : 
 
 " You '11 come in, won't you, Tom ? " 
 
 " No, thank you, Anne; not to-day. I could n't 
 quite stand it." 
 
 " Very well another day, then." Anne held 
 out the right hand of fellowship. Tom took it. 
 
 "And, Anne, there 's another thing I wanted 
 to say. I 've always thought you were too hard 
 on Eunice. You 're right ; she 's a cat" 
 
 Mrs. Blythe put out her other hand and 
 grasped both of Tom's cordially. 
 
 " Now we are friends," she said, smiled into 
 his eyes for a moment, and, turning, walked 
 swiftly through the gate. 
 
 On the terrace Fleming and the Bishop were 
 pacing to and fro, the former with a cigar, the
 
 FINE ARTS 191 
 
 latter with hands locked behind him, under his 
 coat, after a fashion which he had acquired years 
 before in his study, pondering his sermons. 
 Anne decided that she would change her dress 
 before joining them, and slipped into the house 
 by a side door. 
 
 The two men continued their walk and their 
 talk. In Rome they had formed a habit of inti- 
 mate companionship, and they spoke their minds 
 to each other with a freedom possible only to 
 reserved men who find at last a channel of com- 
 munication at once safe and easy, able to bear 
 conversational shipping of heavy draft, and yet 
 with frequent harbors for small talk. 
 
 A turn in their promenade brought Yates's re- 
 treating figure in view. 
 
 " I wonder why he did not come in," the Bishop 
 said. 
 
 Fleming, having no explanation to offer, at- 
 tempted none. 
 
 " I 'm glad that he did n't," he ventured. 
 
 " I am not sorry myself: I cannot understand 
 what my niece sees to like in him." 
 
 " I can - " Fleming began, and then bit his lip. 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " Pardon me ! I did not intend to volunteer 
 my opinion in such an intimate matter. It was 
 very stupid."
 
 192 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " On the contrary, you can be of real service 
 by speaking candidly. I should be much obliged 
 if you would, and you know, I think, that it will 
 go no further." 
 
 "Then," said Fleming, throwing away his 
 cigar, " I should say that it lies in the fact that 
 Mrs. Blythe likes a sense of superiority, and that 
 Yates offers an excellent opportunity for it." 
 
 " You think it 's only that ? " 
 
 " Not quite." 
 
 " What else ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Blythe's nature has many sides. 
 After she has carried her esthetics and philoso- 
 phizing a shade too far, she loves to throw them 
 aside and plunge into frank materialism. There 's 
 where Yates appeals to her. Besides, she enjoys 
 her liking for him as a neat antithesis to her dis- 
 like of his sister. We can't afford to dislike too 
 many people at the same time. It reflects on our 
 own amiability." 
 
 " You understand Anne, I see." 
 
 " Only in phases, here and there. It would be 
 a bold man who professed to understand Mrs. 
 Blythe's character as a whole. She is as full of 
 surprises as a Christmas-box." 
 
 " Yes, too many by half! She has no under- 
 lying principle of consistency in her actions." 
 
 " Is n't that, after all, what makes her charm
 
 FINE ARTS 193 
 
 in a too well-regulated world ? She has no pre- 
 arranged platitudes of conduct." 
 
 " If Anne had more platitudes of conduct it 
 would be less fatiguing for one who feels the re- 
 sponsibility. I am often anxious." 
 
 " Don't you think, Bishop, that, believing in 
 Providence as you do, you might trust something 
 to it?" 
 
 " To return to Yates " said the Bishop, who 
 was a passed master in the art of changing the 
 topic of conversation. 
 
 "Yes ; to return to Yates " assented Fleming. 
 
 " He is a curious product of metropolitan life,"" 
 the Bishop observed, " a thorough barbarian, with 
 a veneer of civilization." 
 
 " I fancy a man must be something of a bar- 
 barian to succeed as Yates has done. The privi- 
 lege of sensitiveness is reserved for the second 
 generation of success." 
 
 " And the privilege of decadence for the third." 
 
 " Yes ; those are time's revenges." 
 
 "But, after all," said the Bishop, "we are 
 speaking of a vulgar success." 
 
 " What extension do you give to the word 
 * vulgar ' ? " 
 
 "I call a vulgar success one which sets the ma- 
 terial above the spiritual, which dispenses with 
 ideals. Christianity owes its distinction to the
 
 194 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 stress it lays on the value of thoughts versus 
 things. Fancy the magnificent audacity of Paul, 
 standing up in that hard old Roman world and 
 telling the men of Rome and Corinth and Ephesus 
 that their glory of temples and palaces was a 
 mere delusion of the senses, that the only real 
 things the things of consequence were re- 
 pentance and faith, love, joy, peace, and long- 
 suffering ! " 
 
 " Yes," thought Fleming, " and when Paul's 
 Christianity had triumphed, it began straightway 
 to build its own temples and palaces and to 
 knock the fruits of the Spirit ofT the tree with a 
 club." He said nothing of this aloud, however. 
 It would have been like interrupting a sermon. 
 
 The Bishop warmed to his subject. " They 
 have asked me," he said, " to preach next Sunday 
 in the American chapel, and I intend to talk about 
 the sham of the Renaissance, the futility of the 
 effort to revive the Greek spirit when the shadow 
 of the cross of Christ had fallen between the an- 
 cient and modern worlds. A man might as well 
 pretend himself back into childhood. We can- 
 not ignore an epoch-making experience either in 
 humanity or in the individual, I shall take for 
 my text : ' And he, bearing his cross, went forth.' " 
 
 The men took several turns in silence. Then 
 the Bishop spoke again.
 
 FINE ARTS 195 
 
 ** I don't think it is any breach ot confidence," 
 he said, "to tell you what led me into this train 
 of thought. Some time ago a man came to me 
 and announced his intention of going to the ut- 
 termost parts of the earth as a missionary to an 
 afflicted people. He was hot with zeal and eager 
 for the sacrifice ; but the words of my text haunted 
 rny mind as I listened to him. I felt that he 
 would not flinch if he were nailed to a cross in 
 view of the multitude; but as to bearing it 
 through unnoted slums and byways before he 
 reached his Calvary, I could not feel sure that 
 it was in him to do it. I advised waiting. I 
 changed the current of his activities, and now, 
 from all that I hear (the man was an intimate 
 friend of friends of mine, and they often write of 
 him), I gather that his purpose is waning, that he 
 is turning from the asceticism of the Cross to the 
 estheticism of the Renaissance. I have had many 
 bad quarters of an hour on the subject with my 
 conscience." 
 
 "I don't see why you should," said Fleming; 
 " upon my soul, I don't. A life-purpose which 
 could be shaken by a counsel of delay would 
 have gone to pieces at the first shock of trial, 
 anyway. Good morning, Mrs. Blythe ! "
 
 XII 
 
 ONE BEHELD AND DIED 
 
 " Some of him lived ; but most of him died 
 Even as you and I " 
 
 WALFORD was at the crisis of his fate. 
 The crucial moment had come. The 
 question was this : Had his nature inherent no- 
 bility efiough to humble itself? Would he go 
 back to Anne Blythe and say : " I did a dishon- 
 orable thing. It has poisoned more than half a 
 year of my life with mean, miserable suspicions. 
 Forgive me " *? 
 
 This was what his conscience prompted him 
 to do; but vanity pulled him by the sleeve and 
 whispered: "Not to her! Humiliate yourself 
 before any one else, but not in the eyes of the 
 woman who has looked up to you for light and 
 guidance. No, not to her! " Moreover, he had 
 made a sort of overture there before San Marco. 
 If Eunice Yates had not been present he would 
 have been glad to say more. He had conjured 
 
 196
 
 'ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 197 
 
 up meetings with Mrs. Blythe in which he should 
 make graceful acknowledgment of his perhaps 
 unwarrantable interference in her affairs: but it 
 would not do. Something in Anne's eyes in that 
 instant of their meeting had told him that no 
 superficial balm would heal the wound. It 
 must be probed first. He must say, " I am 
 guilty," or all must remain unsaid. He saw that 
 Anne was ready to accept either alternative, but 
 no compromise. Still, she might have said some- 
 thing something which would have made it 
 easier. It was not to be expected that a man 
 should humiliate himself in public and before 
 those unsympathetic eyes. 
 
 After all, what was it that he had done *? A 
 dying woman had handed him an unsealed letter 
 without comment, without any request that he 
 should not inspect it; and she did not belong to 
 :he class in which such things are done as a matter 
 of courtesy. Why, of course a man of the world 
 would think nothing of it, and in this case so 
 much had been at stake ! It was so desirable 
 that he should know the real state of the case 
 with this interesting parishioner who had opened 
 her heart to him at least in part at their first 
 meeting. 
 
 It was as if the shepherd of the ninety and 
 nine had been over-scrupulous as to methods of
 
 198 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 learning the whereabouts of the lost sheep. It 
 was his business to know. Really he should have 
 blamed himself if she had done wrong and he 
 had failed to arm himself at all points to help 
 her. God knew he would not have been as hard 
 toward her as she had shown herself to him. To 
 be sure, she had not done wrong, and that com- 
 plicated everything. 
 
 To some men that scene in the Piacevole 
 music-room would have carried no conviction; 
 but to Walford it was final. He was no more 
 inclined to weigh evidence now than months ago 
 in Central Park, when the blow had first fallen. 
 He felt the full force of his blunder, the full dis- 
 credit of his conduct. Probably Mrs. Blythe 
 would tell the Bishop, and Walford felt his 
 cheek scorch at the thought of that prelate's cyni- 
 cal smile. No, he could not face it. 
 
 To comprehend Walford's state of mind it is 
 needful to consider the atmosphere in which he 
 had spent the last year. To be admired is more 
 thaa most men's heads will bear without turning 
 giddy ; to be adored is too much, and adoration 
 or something akin to it had been Walford's 
 portion. 
 
 The rift in the lute with Walford was vanity. 
 Unconsciously to himself, it had lain at the bot- 
 tom of his noblest aspirations, and was so inter-
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 199 
 
 mixed with them that to strike at one was to 
 destroy the other. He was like a man poisoned 
 with the sacramental wafer. 
 
 When he poured out before Bishop Alston 
 his longing to go forth as a soldier of the Cross 
 among the lepers, there was no insincerity in his 
 mind. He did long to go. He longed to be of 
 service to these neglected outcasts. But it must be 
 he who rendered the service. It was not so much 
 the thought of help to the lepers, as the thought 
 of himself ministering to them, which appealed 
 to him. 
 
 When he felt his heart warm toward Anne 
 Blythe in her grief, there was always the picture 
 in his mind of himself soothing, stimulating, 
 uplifting. Later still, when he read Rene*e 
 Jaudon's letter, it gave him a certain painful 
 satisfaction to fancy himself the accusing angel 
 bearing the sword of retribution in one hand and 
 the cup of consolation in the other. Always and 
 everywhere Stuart Walford occupied the center 
 of the canvas. 
 
 Apollyon struck him in the weakest joint 
 of his armor when he laid that open letter at his 
 feet. The desire for influence, "influence for 
 good," that ideal which Walford had professed 
 at the club, had been the cause of his undoing. 
 Unwilling as he would have been to admit it to
 
 200 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 himself, he had found a melancholy interest, 
 during all these months, in the thought of Anne 
 as a penitent, claiming his pity, his sympathy, 
 his intercession at the throne of grace. How 
 could a man who had lived in such a frame of 
 mind for months suddenly admit that it was he 
 who must wear the dust upon his garments, the 
 ashes on his head, and say to the woman whom 
 he loved : ** I have sinned against heaven, and in 
 thy sight"? 
 
 Perhaps there had been a deeper note than 
 Eunice Yates could comprehend in Walford's 
 sympathy with Savonarola. Here, too, was a man 
 with noble impulses led hopelessly astray by the 
 mad passion for " influence for good," by that 
 curious confounding of his own voice with the 
 voice of the Lord, which made it seem a blow 
 at the cause of righteousness to confess himself 
 a weak, sinful man. 
 
 One wonders if that was in Walford's mind as 
 he looked at the prior's crucifix and shirt of hair 
 there in the convent of San Marco, or if that was 
 the power which drew his steps half unconsciously 
 toward Savonarola's cathedral as he walked the 
 Florentine streets, battling with himself, on this 
 beautiful April afternoon. 
 
 It was with a distinct sense of pleasure that he 
 reached the Duomo, and lifting the heavy cur-
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 201 
 
 tain, felt the chill of the church within strike 
 cool on his hot forehead. 
 
 To a nature as susceptible as his it almost 
 seemed that the change of air would bring a 
 change of mental atmosphere as well, and he was 
 very tired ; so tired that with a sigh of relief he 
 felt the tension about his head give way, and 
 realized that for the first time in twenty-four 
 hours he could stop thinking. That endless 
 repetition of the question, " Shall I see her ? 
 Shall I not see her ? " ceased to hammer at his 
 brain. He could be still. 
 
 It was the hour of vespers, and the distant 
 hymns in the choir, the faint glimmer of the ta- 
 pers, the scent of the incense, fell upon his weari- 
 ness like a benediction. He yielded to the spirit 
 of the place and sank down before a side altar 
 but not to pray; rather to give himself up to the 
 sweetness of the abandonment of struggle to 
 find rest. He closed his eyes. A long fast and 
 a sleepless night had brought him to the point 
 where men see visions, and indeed white-robed 
 figures seemed to hover about him, and he al- 
 most caught the strains which had haunted him 
 ever since the night of Mrs. Blythe's musicale: 
 
 " Angel*, ever bright and fair, 
 Take, oh, take me to your care!"
 
 202 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 With the natural association of the song, the 
 singer rose before his eyes. How beautiful she 
 was this woman who had so lately come into 
 his life ! How sympathetic had been her re- 
 sponse to his suggestions of the underlying mean- 
 ings in the Fra Angelicos ! How uplifting her 
 aspirations; how exalted her predictions of the 
 future that lay before him ! Ah, there was some 
 one who trusted and looked up to him ! With 
 her there would be no need of painful explana- 
 tions. If he ever told her the story of the letter, 
 as very likely he might some day, he was sure 
 that he could make her look at it from his point of 
 view make her see how it all came about. She 
 would understand how good the thread of his 
 intentions had been, even if fate had tangled the 
 skein of action. 
 
 In his efforts at self-exculpation he went 
 back to the old pagan idea of fate as a force 
 working from without and independent of 
 human character. He was glad to think of it 
 so. It lifted the burden of responsibility from 
 his weak shoulders and thrust it upon a vast, 
 vague, inscrutable somewhat whose name was 
 Destiny. 
 
 At length he rose and made his way out at the 
 great doorway. The dream was over. He came 
 out into the light and glow and color and heat of
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 203 
 
 the open square, into the clash and clang, barter 
 and strife, of every-day existence. 
 
 Once outside the door, he stood hesitating 
 at the foot of the steps. In one direction lay 
 the Via Calzaioli, leading to the pension in the 
 Lungarno alle Grazie where Eunice Yates was 
 staying. In the opposite direction the Via 
 Ricasoli led to the Porta San Gallo, to Fiesole, 
 to Anne ! Which should he take ? 
 
 He looked toward the hill rising softly through 
 the mist. Its green, misty slope seemed to beckon 
 him, but the stones lay hard between. He set 
 his teeth and turned northward, walking rapidly 
 for a couple of blocks ; then he stopped, breath- 
 ing heavily. " I cannot do it ! I cannot ! " he 
 exclaimed ; and wheeling about, he strode with 
 determined steps along the Via Calzaioli in the 
 direction of the Arno. 
 
 Eunice Yates was sitting alone in the recep- 
 tion-room of the pension when Walford entered. 
 He was thankful that it was so. He could not 
 have borne to encounter the groups of idle 
 listeners who, as he knew, would fill the room 
 a little later, when the sight-seeing hours were 
 over. 
 
 Clearly his call was well-timed, and he felt 
 that no picture by one of the old masters could 
 have been more beautiful than this which greeted
 
 204 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 his eye, of Eunice by the window, working at 
 the embroidery of an altar-cloth. The dull brown 
 plush of the shabby sofa only served as a back- 
 ground for the pure tints of her skin, and the 
 cold north light warmed itself in the brightness 
 of her hair. As Walford came in she rose, with 
 calm welcome, but with no surprise. He, on his 
 part, was far from calm. 
 
 " I ought not to have come," he said in an 
 agitated voice, " but I was irresistibly impelled." 
 
 " Don't you think it is often like that ? " she 
 responded " that the leading comes if we sub- 
 mit ourselves to the guidance of the Spirit?" 
 
 " That is a beautiful thought." 
 
 " Yes, to me it is very beautiful. I often think 
 that the prophets and holy men of old differed 
 from other men in just this their willingness 
 to be led by the Spirit. Is n't it Isaiah who 
 says : ' As for me, the secret is not revealed 
 to me for any wisdom that I have more than 
 any living"? It was just submissiveness, was n't 
 it?" 
 
 " Thank you ! " said Walford, fervently. " I 
 shall use that text for a sermon some day. The 
 words of the sermon will be mine, but the inspi- 
 ration will be yours. Do you know the mean- 
 ing of your name *? It signifies ' Victory.' I 
 shall always think of it after this." 
 
 Eunice looked down and allowed a moment's
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 205 
 
 appreciative silence to follow Walford's words. 
 Then she spoke : 
 
 " What a privilege I have to look forward 
 to in going home, Mr. Walford, to sit un- 
 der your preaching, to be led by your example 
 and influence ! When I was in America before, 
 my soul was starved for spiritual companionship. 
 My life lay among people well, people like 
 my cousin, Mrs. Blythe. Dear Anne ! She is so 
 sympathetic in her manner that one is with her a 
 long time before he finds out that she is heartless." 
 
 "Really heartless?" 
 
 " I wish I could think of some kinder word to 
 describe her lack of feeling. You have noticed 
 it already, I am sure, or nothing should tempt 
 me to speak of it." 
 
 " I have noticed a certain lack " 
 
 " Of course you have. A man of your sensi- 
 tive fiber was sure to notice it. And then, the 
 levity with which she takes serious subjects. I 
 could not admire enough the patience with 
 which you treated her there at San Marco." 
 
 Walford felt as if his crumpled self-respect 
 had been handed back to him, neatly pressed 
 and folded, and altogether almost as good as 
 new. He wrapped himself in it as in a garment. 
 It seemed good to get back to it. 
 
 " Oh, one must have patience ! " he murmured. 
 " It would ill become a priest to judge others
 
 206 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 harshly. But Mrs. Blythe what development 
 of her character do you look for ? " 
 
 "That," said Eunice, "will depend on the 
 man whom she marries. Anne has very little 
 original force. Her tone is always drawn from 
 those around her. You who see everything have 
 seen that too." 
 
 " And is there any one with whom you think 
 her marriage likely ? " 
 
 " Have you ever thought of Mr. Fleming *? " 
 
 Walford started, and for an instant he felt a 
 distinct pang ; but it was not real. 
 
 " He is a very ardent champion," he said. 
 
 " * Champion ' that is just the word. The 
 man who marries Mrs. Blythe will find many- 
 things which can be neither reasoned nor ex- 
 plained away f they must be championed. I 
 admire Mr. Fleming in spite of his coldness and 
 his satisfaction with himself. I am sure I wish 
 Anne much happiness if she gets him that is, 
 if circumstances draw them together. If they 
 marry, you know, it will make a strange differ- 
 ence in Anne's position and mine relatively." 
 
 " Yes, I have heard." 
 
 " I often think one can but think some- 
 times of these things what I should do if her 
 millions should by chance fall into my hands 
 what I should do with them."
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 207 
 
 ' What would you do ? " 
 
 "I think, for one thing, I should found a 
 school of sacred music in New York right in 
 the center of materialism, in the very core of 
 unbelief and indifference. What a triumph to 
 battle with them through something so impalpa- 
 ble, so gentle, and yet so subduing as music ! " 
 
 " It is an inspiration." 
 
 Eunice dropped her needle and fixed her eyes 
 beyond Walford. " Yes, I would build an ex- 
 quisite chapel in connection with some church 
 like St. Simeon's. I would fill it with sacred 
 relics of the Old World, with tapestries and fres- 
 cos and fonts and choir-stalls from the churches 
 over here. I would have the finest organ the world 
 could produce not over-powerful, you know, 
 but perfect in harmony; and there, with all that 
 beauty around them, the musicians should be 
 trained to render Bach and Handel and Pales- 
 trina, and at Easter we would give the * Messiah ' 
 with a noble chorus ! " 
 
 Walford looked at her with reverence. 
 
 " Such a vision," he exclaimed, " could not 
 come to you unless Heaven meant to make you 
 the instrument of its fulfilment." 
 
 ** I have thought that too ; indeed, it was so 
 strongly impressed upon me at the time of my 
 uncle Richard's death that I almost felt it a mat-
 
 208 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 tcr of conscience to contest the will ; but an in- 
 ward voice bade me wait and told me that 
 Cousin Anne's marriage was only a matter of 
 time. You see," she added, smiling gently, " the 
 inward voice was right." 
 
 " And the vision will be fulfilled." 
 
 Walford looked at her with ardent eyes. 
 
 She answered in low, level tones : " I only fear 
 that I should not be equal to its fulfilment. My 
 judgment is not sound enough, my will not firm 
 enough." 
 
 Walford moved from his chair to the corner of 
 the sofa opposite Eunice Yates. The window 
 behind cast a nimbus of light round her head, 
 softly silhouetted against the sky. Her beauty 
 stole his judgment. 
 
 When he spoke again his voice faltered : 
 
 " Did you ever know a man worthy in any re- 
 spect of such a trust ? " 
 
 The gray eyes opened large upon him. No 
 word was spoken, yet the silence thrilled with 
 meaning. 
 
 Walford breathed hard. He took up the skein 
 of embroidery silk and twisted it nervously in his 
 fingers. One of the signs of his lack of early 
 social training was the necessity of doing some- 
 thing with his hands, especially when under any 
 strain or stress.
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 209 
 
 " Miss Yates ! " he said at last ; then lower, 
 "Eunice!" 
 
 A cool hand fluttered toward him. He caught 
 and held it while he went on : 
 
 " Would you count it presumption if I thrust 
 my life-problem upon you ? " 
 
 Eunice simply looked at him ; but he seemed 
 to find the answer of her eyes sufficient and satis- 
 factory, for he went on : 
 
 " From the moment when I first saw you there 
 in the Fiesole garden I felt that you had a message 
 for me that Heaven meant you to be more 
 than a stranger; that our destinies were some- 
 how twisted together, like this silk I have been 
 tangling hopelessly here." 
 
 " Never mind the silk, I mean. As for the 
 other, I felt it too ; and yet how easily we might 
 have missed each other ! " 
 
 " It could not have been, Eunice it could 
 not. The beings whom fate decrees to be some- 
 thing to each other cannot evade their destiny. 
 It is vain for seas or mountains to set up their 
 barriers between such. As to refusing to heed 
 the call of soul to soul, the blade of grass might 
 as well refuse to bend before the wind. When 
 affinity asserts itself it is absolute, compelling, 
 and will be obeyed. Therefore I shall make no 
 excuses for laying bare my heart to you."
 
 210 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Eunice sighed; but it was not the sigh of 
 melancholy. 
 
 " When I was a mere boy," Walford went on, 
 keeping meanwhile a lookout toward the door, 
 lest some one should be overhearing, " I was 
 fired with the desire to be of use in the world. 
 When men praised my eloquence, a mere trick 
 of speech in my own eyes, I asked only to be 
 allowed to lay it as an acceptable sacrifice on the 
 altar of the Lord. Then I read of Damien and 
 of how he had given up his life to the service of 
 the lepers. Ah ! you shudder ; but it is because 
 you think of the trials and not of the rewards. 
 I felt that nothing would make me happier than to 
 follow in his footsteps. I made my plans ; I was 
 ready to go. I went to Bishop Alston and begged 
 him to bless my mission and receive my vows." 
 
 "And he," questioned Eunice, leaning for- 
 ward, " what did he say *? Did he not plead 
 against such a sacrifice *? " 
 
 " ' Sacrifice ' that was what he called it, and 
 the word startled me. Not that I thought of 
 my own paltry life I felt that I had flung that 
 ahead of me into the battle, as Douglas flung the 
 heart of Bruce; but I said to myself: 'What if 
 it were a sacrifice in the higher sense *? What 
 if in another field my gifts would serve a deeper 
 need and in a wider sphere ? ' "
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 213 
 
 "Yes, indeed," Eunice murmured; "you 
 ought surely to think of that." 
 
 " The feeling has grown upon me I confess 
 it has as my eyes have been opened to the 
 many avenues of the world's work. More than 
 that, I have been brought to see the moral lep- 
 rosy which exists, not far off, but close at our 
 doors, there in New York, where the lepers are 
 not even in the slums, but live in rich men's 
 palaces and eat at rich men's tables. I have 
 asked myself: ' Have I any right to turn away 
 from such as these, my brethren, to give myself 
 to strangers and aliens ? ' 
 
 " A man of your breadth and depth of spiritual 
 experience was sure to come to that you could 
 not escape it" 
 
 "You think so, Eunice you really think 
 so?" 
 
 " To me it is as clear as sunlight on crystal. 
 The Lord adapts men to the work which He has 
 for them to do. If He had really meant you for 
 this missionary service of which you dreamed in 
 your young enthusiasm, He would have given you 
 a sturdy body and a phlegmatic soul capable of 
 long resistance to disease, and calmness in the 
 face of the sufferings of others. Instead He has 
 endowed you with an exquisite sensitiveness 
 of nature, attuned to all beauty, and then be-
 
 214 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 stowed upon you the incomparable gift of elo- 
 quence to move the hearts of your fellow-men 
 and stir in them noble impulses to all divine 
 aspirations. Do not, I beg of you, do not throw 
 away this heaven-sent opportunity ; do not ignore 
 this unmistakable leading of Providence." 
 
 " I cannot tell you how it helps me to have 
 you speak with such a fervor of conviction. I 
 will not deny that it chimes in with the conclu- 
 sions of my own judgment; but I so feared to 
 be misled by any considerations of self." 
 
 " The only danger will lie in considering your- 
 self too little. It is an arduous work on which 
 you are entering, if you decide to labor in the 
 home vineyard." 
 
 "It is I appreciate that; but that only 
 makes it the better worth while. I have laid my 
 problem before you, Eunice, and I am resolved 
 to abide by your decision. You know the cir- 
 cumstances you know how I long to go; but 
 you can estimate, perhaps better than I can my- 
 self, the need of me where I am. Which shall 
 it be *? Shall I stay or go ? " 
 
 " Believe me, you should stay. Your field, your 
 calling, your career, your duty, all lie in New 
 York." ' 
 
 " But, Eunice, like you, I fear to enter upon 
 this new life, this changed career, alone. If I go
 
 "ONE BEHELD AND DIED" 215 
 
 out among the lepers, my course is clear I 
 give up at the outset all that makes life dear to 
 most men ; but if I remain among my fellows, I 
 must live as men live to reach and influence 
 them I must be thoroughly one of them; so you see 
 you have solved only half my problem, after all." 
 
 Eunice looked down with an air of sweet and 
 bashful bewilderment. 
 
 " What can I say ? How do you wish me to 
 answer? " 
 
 44 By looking into your own heart and telling 
 me what you find there. Is it love ? Do you 
 even feel that it ever might be love *? " 
 
 44 How can I tell ? Woman's love is but an 
 echo, and her heart only whispers the word in 
 answer to a man's voice." 
 
 "The man's voice is speaking now, Eunice. 
 It says : 4 1 love you.' " 
 
 44 Are you sure of yourself sure that no other 
 woman rules your heart *? " 
 
 44 Not my heart I see clearly now that it is 
 only my fancy that has been touched before now. 
 My heart was left for you. For the first time I 
 feel that I have reached the full stature of man- 
 hood and learned what love means. I have met 
 a woman who can enter into my highest hopes 
 and my deepest feelings. I love you, Eunice. 
 Tell me that you love me too ! "
 
 216 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " The time has been so short ! " 
 
 " Short ? Not if you count it by heart-beats." 
 
 " No ; but short to forget that other woman." 
 
 " Listen, Eunice ! I admit that I have spent 
 the last year under the spell of a woman far 
 different from you. I was deceived, bitterly 
 deceived, and I have had a cruel awakening. 
 I could scarcely have borne it, I think, but that 
 just when my grief was heaviest and my need 
 sorest, you appeared, and I knew that my dream 
 of perfect womanhood was not all a dream that 
 in your keeping lay peace." 
 
 Eunice laid down her work, folded her long 
 white hands before her, and sank back. Every 
 line of her figure suggested the repose for which 
 Walford's soul was yearning. His pulses throbbed, 
 his senses swam, he felt himself dizzy with the 
 wine of hope. 
 
 " Dearest ! " he said, leaning forward and sud- 
 denly raising the hand to his lips, " my destiny 
 lies in these white hands of yours. Am I to go 
 alone or to stay with you?" 
 
 ** Stay with me ! " whispered Eunice. 
 
 And the soul of Stuart Walford went out like 
 the flame of a candle in the wind.
 
 XIII 
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 
 
 " Bfiad and deaf that we are'; oh, think if thou yet lore anybody tiring, 
 wait not till death sweep down the paltry little dust-clouds and idle dissonances 
 of the moment and all be at last so mournfully clear and beautiful when it is 
 too late I " 
 
 EORGE, I have made up my mind to send 
 
 for your father." 
 " Don't ! For Heaven's sake, don't! " 
 As he spoke, the boy raised himself from the 
 pillows on the lounge against which he had been 
 leaning, and looked pleadingly at Fleming. 
 
 Fleming laughed ; but there was a catch at his 
 throat. He had grown immensely fond of George 
 Newton. We love people more for what we are 
 to them than for what they are to us ; but aside 
 from the fact that he had been good to the boy and 
 felt a corresponding glow of heart toward him, 
 he had come to feel a distinct interest in this 
 idealistic, inarticulate, beauty-loving nature which 
 could only feel, and so rarely succeeded in making 
 
 itself felt. The evident bodily frailness and inse- 
 
 217
 
 218 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 cure tenure of life, too, lent their added charm. 
 The death of a youth thrills us with the pathos 
 of the unfulfilled, and Fleming's tenderness vi- 
 brated more and more to these minor chords. 
 He did not dare to look into the future. Every 
 week was forcing home upon him the conviction 
 that George's days were numbered, and he could 
 only console himself with the reflection that they 
 were the happiest of the boy's life. 
 
 He crushed back the melancholy which weighed 
 heavily on his soul, and answered George's pro- 
 test with a smile, repeating : 
 
 " Yes, I shall certainly send for him. I shall 
 tell him that your devotion to Miss Yates is be- 
 coming a matter of public notoriety and making 
 the Florentine hair to stand on end, that you took 
 cold the other day walking in the wind to the 
 Mercato Nuovo to buy roses for your inamorata, 
 and that, in short, I can't manage you, and he 
 must come and take charge." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Fleming, you would n't joke like 
 that not with Father ! " 
 
 " See here, Master George ! I have a great 
 respect for your father, and being of a weak and 
 impressionable nature, I have more respect than 
 ever since he has taken all these medals and 
 made his place in the scientific world; but I 
 don't know that he has yet attained that awful
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 219 
 
 height of greatness where it is blasphemy to joke 
 with him." 
 
 " That is n't what I mean. You may joke 
 about yourself as much as you like, but don't 
 say anything about me. I would n't have him 
 come on my account" 
 
 " But he is in London. What would it be for 
 him to run down to Florence? He might do 
 that just to see the pictures, you know, not to 
 mention such a trifling matter as his son." 
 
 " Oh, he would n't want to come, I 'm sure 
 he would n't, and he '11 be no end put out at 
 the thought of coming here. He grudges every 
 day away from his laboratory." 
 
 " Put out ! " exclaimed Fleming, his irritation 
 with Newton finding its way to the surface in 
 spite of himself. " Put out by being sent for to 
 look after his boy ? " 
 
 " Oh, Father does n't care much about me, you 
 know ; we were never chummy in the way you 
 and I are." 
 
 " And your mother were you and she 
 chums?" 
 
 " Well, no. Not exactly." 
 
 " And yet you are anxious to go home ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I want to sec my dog." 
 
 44 But you can't talk music to your dog." 
 
 '* Indeed I do talk to him by the hour to-
 
 220 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 gether, and play to him, too. Next to him, 
 I 'd rather talk to you than to any one in the 
 world." 
 
 " Except Miss Yates," interrupted Fleming, in 
 a mocking voice. 
 
 George laughed; but the flush in his face 
 deepened. 
 
 " Never mind about her," he said, " but prom- 
 ise me you won't send for my father. You may 
 try to put it off on Miss Yates, but I know why 
 you 're sending ; and there 5 s no need, really there 
 is n't." 
 
 " Well, well, there 's plenty of time to think 
 it over, and we will not decide anything in a 
 hurry; only don't get excited, old man! Put 
 your feet up so and I '11 spread the rug 
 over them." 
 
 " What a duffer a man is at taking care of sick 
 people ! " Fleming thought as he folded the rug, 
 which suddenly seemed to become all corners 
 and fringe. 
 
 Some one knocked at the door, and a bell-boy 
 caine in, bringing a tray loaded with hothouse 
 grapes and jonquils. 
 
 " For Mr. Newton." 
 
 George kicked away the rug and jumped up 
 to take the card, but his face fell as he read it. 
 " They 're from Mrs. Blythe," he said, " and the
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 221 
 
 card 's partly to you. It asks if she can see Mr. 
 Fleming at the door of the hotel for a moment." 
 
 " Yes," said Fleming, " say that I will come 
 down at once; and, George, if you won't be 
 lonely I '11 turn in at the smoking-room and smoke 
 my cigar before I come up. It would n't do to 
 set you coughing with it up here." 
 
 "All right," George answered cheerfully. 
 "Thank Mrs. Blythe for the flowers and the 
 grapes." 
 
 " And shall I add that you would have liked 
 them a little better if they had come from Miss 
 Yates?" 
 
 Fleming did not wait for a reply, but seized 
 his hat and made his way with rapid strides down 
 the stairs, through the long corridor, and out into 
 the street, bright with the slant light of the setting 
 sun. 
 
 An open carriage was drawn up by the curb, 
 and Mrs. Blythe sat in it, looking absently down 
 the street, so absently that she started when Flem- 
 ing spoke her name. 
 
 " I have come to inquire for George," she said ; 
 " you seemed worried about him the other night." 
 
 " How did you know that ? " 
 
 "Oh, I saw it from your way of looking at 
 him. I 've been thinking about him since, and 
 last night, as I looked down on the mist lying
 
 222 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 over the river, I decided that he ought not to be 
 here in all this dampness." 
 
 " I think that you are perfectly right," said 
 Fleming. "George has grown steadily worse 
 here, and I should have taken him south again 
 before this ; but we came here to consult Dr. 
 Branchi, and his tests and diagnosis take time. 
 As soon as we get results I shall write to the 
 boy's father, for, to tell the truth, I don't feel will- 
 ing to take the responsibility any longer." 
 
 " I should n't think that you would, certainly 
 not here in this dismal hotel. And all that you 
 say fits in with my plans. I want you to bring 
 George up to the villa and let us help you to 
 take care of him till his father comes, at any rate, 
 and then we can decide." 
 
 Fleming shook his head with emphasis; but 
 before he could speak Mrs. Blythe went on: 
 " Now, remember, this is n't an invitation to you 
 at all, except as George's guardian. It 's to him, 
 and you have no right to decline it, if you be- 
 lieve that the high and dry air of Fiesole is bet- 
 ter for him than the dampness of this malarious 
 old Lungarno. We have a room facing south 
 and opening on a loggia where he can sit in the 
 sun all day." 
 
 Fleming hesitated. " Oh, we could not we 
 must not ! " he exclaimed, sorely tempted. " It
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 223 
 
 would mean such a lot of bother for you. Why 
 should you ? " 
 
 " It is only my plain duty," Anne answered. 
 Fleming put his foot up on the step and leaned 
 ngainst the coachman's seat. 
 
 " Do you remember," he said, smiling, " a 
 young woman who told me a year ago that do- 
 ing her duty meant doing what did n't please her 
 in order that some one else might do what 
 pleased him, and that in the end there was no 
 gain in social economy ? " 
 
 " To tell the truth, it was not exactly duty 
 that brought me." 
 "What, then?" 
 
 " The reasons are personal to myself." 
 "And are not to be inquired into 1 ?" 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " Perhaps I could guess. May I ? " 
 " No yes you may guess three times." 
 "And you will answer?" 
 " Three times no more." 
 " Here goes, then : It is a penance ? " 
 " Not at all. Is n't my uncle a bishop *? " 
 " True. I had n't thought of that. Indul- 
 gences ought to come more easily. But I have 
 two more guesses. Oh, I know : You are 
 troubled with cats at the villa, and you wish 
 George to play his violin to them.
 
 224 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " George plays very well, as you know." 
 
 " So that is not it, and I have only one guess 
 left. You promised to answer truly *? " 
 
 Mrs. Blythe nodded, though she kept her eyes 
 fastened to the gilt buttons on the back of the 
 coachman's coat. 
 
 " You are doing it because you think I am 
 tired and you know I am a duffer." 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Is that it ? " 
 
 Mrs. Blythe raised her parasol to shield her 
 eyes from the sun. 
 
 " Is that it ? " 
 
 " Tell Luigi to drive on, please.'* 
 
 " Luigi will not move at present except over 
 my dead body." 
 
 " Mr. Fleming, you are not civil." 
 
 *' It is only my civility which prevents my 
 observing that you are not truthful." 
 
 " Truthfulness," said Mrs. Blythe, " is a much 
 overrated virtue." 
 
 " I thought that you objected to the absence 
 of it in Miss Yates." 
 
 " It is a small nature which twits people with 
 their confidences." 
 
 " But to return to the original subject." 
 
 "I will tell you, perhaps at the villa. I 
 shall send the carriage at noon to-morrow."
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 225 
 
 "Mrs. Blythe " 
 
 The Bishop came out of a shop close at hand 
 and stood on the curb, waiting for the carriage. 
 Anne closed her parasol. 
 
 " Till to-morrow, then. A rrvederci! Drive 
 on, Luigi." 
 
 Fleming withdrew his foot from the step of 
 the carriage. Mrs. Blythe bowed. The driver 
 cracked his whip, and the carriage rattled down 
 the street. Fleming entered the smoking-room 
 of the hotel, seating himself by a window which 
 gave a view of the open square. 
 
 He drew out a cigar and lighted it; but it 
 went out several times, because he was too ab- 
 sent-minded to keep it going. The sun sank 
 lower and lower, and darkness grew in the room. 
 Darkness grew in his soul, too. He blamed him- 
 self for yielding to the temptation of Mrs. 
 Blythe's invitation. It was best for George, of 
 course; but some other way might have been 
 devised. Here he was deliberately putting him- 
 self in a position where his resolution would be 
 tried to the utmost, and he had come to a time 
 of life when he realized that the prayer, " Lead 
 us not into temptation," was no vain petition; 
 that nine tenths of the broken vows, the falls 
 from purpose, come from failure to make the 
 stand soon enough. Well, it was too late to
 
 226 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 consider all that now ; and, after all, it was only 
 for a few days. 
 
 He looked out of the window. A band was 
 playing lively airs in the center of the square. 
 Then the retreat sounded, and the little Italian 
 soldiers scurried from all quarters toward the bar- 
 racks, leaving the square empty and desolate ex- 
 cept where the moon, rising slowly through the 
 translucent dusk, laid her pale bars of light across 
 the pavement. It grew darker. The moon 
 dappled the square with still pools of light. 
 The bulk of the houses rose black against them. 
 
 There are some temperaments to which moon- 
 light is profoundly depressing. Fleming's spirits 
 sank steadily as he sat gazing into r! e deserted 
 square, so like life the noise and mirth and hur- 
 rying to and fro, and then the darkness and the re- 
 flection from the dead planet, type of the future 
 of our world. 
 
 As if in response to his thoughts, a black-robed 
 procession bearing torches moved slowly through 
 the space, and Fleming recognized the brothers 
 of the Misericordia on their way to fulfil the last 
 sad offices for the dead. The sight chimed with 
 his mood. Taking up his hat, he passed out into 
 the street and followed in the wake of the funeral 
 train till it turned a corner and was lost in the 
 courtyard of a palace.
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 227 
 
 Fleming stood still, with uncovered he:id. 
 looking after it. The moon shone full upon his 
 face and also upon a man on the other side of 
 the narrow street. It was Stuart Walford. 
 
 The two men recognized each other instantly. 
 Walford crossed the street. Fleming made a 
 motion as if to walk on ; Walford took his arm, 
 and walked on with him toward the Ponte Santa 
 Trinita. 
 
 " There is something I wish to say to you,'* 
 Walford began hesitatingly, "and I don't just 
 know how to say it." 
 
 " So many things are better left unsaid, don't 
 you think *? " 
 
 " Still I feel as if I ought to say this." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " It 's about what we were talking of at Mrs. 
 Blythe's musicale." 
 
 " About Mrs. Blythe ? " 
 
 " Yes, about Mrs. Blythe. It was all a mis- 
 take. I should n't want you to go on believing 
 a mistake." 
 
 " I was in no danger. I knew Mrs. Blythe. 
 But you how did you discover your mistake ? 
 Who told you that it was not true ? " 
 
 " She told me herself." 
 
 "You asked her?" 
 
 Fleming's tone cut like a whip-lash.
 
 228 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Walford answered tremulously: 
 
 " No ; I did n't ask her. I simply handed her 
 a letter which I had been asked to hand to her. 
 It was the letter which accused her." 
 
 The two men had reached the bridge and 
 stopped, facing each other. Fleming let a long 
 pause fall ; then he said slowly : 
 
 " Had you read that letter ? " 
 
 Walford's face whitened in the moonlight. 
 He half turned, and leaning on the railing of the 
 bridge, he stared at the sluggish river, gleaming 
 in the moonlight, dark brown in the shadow of 
 the bank. His silence pleaded for mercy, but 
 Fleming was relentless. "You had read the 
 letter, I see," he persisted. " Had you been 
 asked to read it ? " 
 
 Walford bent his face till it was quite in 
 shadow. " A dying woman gave it to me," he 
 began. 
 
 " It was Renee Jaudon, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, it was. She sent for me there in the 
 hospital when she was dying. She gave me the 
 letter, and she said she trusted me with it fully 
 and entirely. I understood that she trusted me 
 to use my judgment in the matter." 
 
 " Did she say all that, or did she only say that 
 she trusted you *? " 
 
 " I know of no obligation on my part, Mr.
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 229 
 
 Fleming, to submit to this cross-examination from 
 you. I felt that I owed it to myself as a gentle- 
 man to leave you under no misapprehension as 
 to Mrs. Blythe. There my duty ends." 
 
 Fleming appeared scarcely to hear him. 
 " Renee Jaudon broke her faith with us," he 
 said calmly, "and you broke your faith with 
 her. I am not surprised in either case. Good 
 night, Mr. Walford." 
 
 Fleming took off his hat with that formal 
 courtesy which men assume to protect them- 
 selves from intimacy, and turning on his heel, he 
 strode away in the direction of the hotel, mutter- 
 ing under his breath a single word, "Cad !" 
 
 Blair Fleming passed for a good-natured man. 
 In reality he was capable of such rage as few 
 men know; but he had long ago learned that 
 he could not afford to let it get beyond his lips. 
 Consequently not many of those who knew 
 him were aware of its heights and depths. To- 
 night, however, the flood-gates were open, and to 
 himself he gave free vent to the rush of indig- 
 nant contempt in his soul. 
 
 " Anne Blythe in love with such a thing as 
 that!" he exclaimed aloud, as he strode solitary 
 under the shadow of the wide-corniced buildings 
 and recalled Mrs. Blythe's smiling confession to 
 him at the musicale. "In love with him! I 'd
 
 230 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 rather see her married to Tom Yates. Vulgarian 
 as he is, he 's a man at least, and an honest one. 
 But to the end of the chapter women will go on 
 falling in love with these sentimentalists in spite 
 of all that other men can say or do." 
 
 Fleming rushed along faster and faster, his 
 hands thrust deep in the pockets of his coat, his 
 head thrown back, and his eyes fixed on the 
 stars, which seemed to twinkle from over the 
 house-tops with such friendly sympathy that he 
 blurted his heart out to them, and they looked 
 down as patiently as though no lover had ever 
 before sought their consolation or poured out 
 doubts and despair and anger and love under 
 their kindly light. 
 
 In his absorption Fleming twice passed the 
 door of his hotel; but on reaching it the third 
 time he turned in. Passing the door of the 
 smoking-room, he saw it lighted, and noticed a 
 copy of the London " Times " lying on the table. 
 He went in and took it up, thinking that he might 
 chance upon Newton's name. He was not dis- 
 appointed. Under the heading of "An American 
 Honored by Scientists " he saw an account of a 
 dinner to be given to Newton at the Hotel Cecil 
 on the 2Oth the 2oth, and this was the 14th. 
 That meant that he must wait until the function 
 was over.
 
 THE COMING SHADOW 231 
 
 And yet, a week at Mrs. Blythe's, in her pres- 
 ence daily and with the easy familiarity of a 
 household guest could he carry it through, he 
 wondered, carry it through and make no sign ? 
 
 "Well, George," he said to himself, as he 
 slowly mounted the steps, ** I 'd do a good deal 
 for you ; but this is the toughest thing that could 
 be asked of me."
 
 XIV 
 
 "ONE DESTROYED THE YOUNG PLANTS" 
 
 " Soon or late, sardonic Fate 
 
 With man against himself conspires j 
 
 Puts on the mask of his desires : 
 Up the steps of Time elate 
 
 Leads him blinded with his pride, 
 And gathering, as he goes along, 
 
 The fuel of his suicide." 
 
 ' /% FTER the dinner given in his honor at the 
 jfTL Cecil by a distinguished group of the 
 Royal Society, Dr. Newton rose to respond to 
 the following toast : 
 
 " To our -Guest, the Representative of Amer- 
 ican Scientists. 
 
 ' Men our brothers, men the workers, ever seeking something 
 new.* 
 
 "I have to thank you, gentlemen," he said, 
 "for two things in connection with this toast: 
 first, for selecting the line from the only poem 
 with which I am familiar; and next, for giving 
 me so good a text for the things I should like to 
 say: 
 
 232
 
 "THE YOUNG PLANTS" 233 
 
 " * Brothers ' and workers' If there is any set 
 of men on God's earth to whom these words are 
 applicable, it is the men of science. They of all 
 professions have done most to make life contribu- 
 tive rather than competitive. Whatever one has 
 learned has been fully laid open for the teaching 
 and advancement of the rest ; whatever one ac- 
 complishes is rejoiced in by all, and in return 
 there is no reward to which the scientist looks 
 with such eagerness as to the approval of other 
 scientists. 
 
 " As one of your most distinguished members 
 once said : ' The sole order of nobility which, in 
 my judgment, becomes a philosopher is the rank 
 which he holds in the estimation of his fellow- 
 workers, who are the only competent judges in 
 such matters.' 
 
 " With this in mind, you will have no diffi- 
 culty in understanding the depth of my gratitude 
 and my appreciation of such a tribute as this to 
 me, and through me to my American fellow- 
 workers." 
 
 From this beginning the speaker went on to 
 indicate the lines along which America was 
 likely to make her special contribution to scien- 
 tific work, the vast fields of observation offered 
 by her great West, the prodigious sums of money 
 poured into her lap to support scientific investi- 
 
 15
 
 234 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 gation and exploration, the growing number of 
 institutions existing for special research, and 
 finally the resistless energy which had flooded 
 the country with material wealth and now was 
 turning its force into the channels dug for it by 
 the scientific workers of the Old World, men to 
 whom Americans were in no danger of forgetting 
 their indebtedness. They only asked the privi- 
 lege of repaying some fragment of the debt by 
 their own contribution. 
 
 " I profoundly hope," he ended, " that the 
 years to come may prove our right to add the 
 other line of the couplet from which you quote : 
 
 ' That which they have done but earnest of the things that 
 they shall do.' " 
 
 Newton had a confused sense of clapping and 
 cheering as he took his seat, but he was too 
 much bewildered by the scene around him to 
 realize it fully. The electric lights struck sharply 
 in his eyes and dazzled him, the fumes of the 
 wine seemed to go to his brain. 
 
 Could this be really he, Maxwell Newton, 
 whose praises were being sounded by speaker 
 after speaker"? And the speakers themselves, 
 could they be live men, and not the frontispieces 
 of the books which lined his library shelves at 
 home? Was it possible that the toast-master
 
 "THE YOUNG PLANTS" 235 
 
 was that leader of English scientific thought 
 whom he had dreamed of meeting some day? 
 that the man on the right, shaking him by the 
 hand, was the Sir John Larned, F.R.S., whose 
 book on the " Genesis of Instinct " had first 
 turned his thoughts to the theme which had 
 grown into his life-work *? 
 
 The first volume of Newton's work on Cellu- 
 lar Psychology had been published only a little 
 more than three months, and already he found 
 himself a marked man. 
 
 His paper on " ^Esthesis and Tropesis in the 
 Atom " had carried off the honors of the meet- 
 ing of the Association for Scientific Research 
 yesterday. To-night at the dinner it had been 
 the topic most widely and hotly discussed, and 
 he who had been a solitary worker felt for the 
 first time the electric current which runs through 
 such a gathering, quickening every fiber of the 
 mind, raising every faculty to its highest power, 
 making the unattainable the possible, and the 
 difficult the desirable. 
 
 Moreover, in this company Newton had known 
 the crowning satisfaction of finding himself " not 
 least, but honored of them all." 
 
 He wore the " invidious purple " of fame with 
 a pride far above the cheap gratification of van- 
 ity, rather with a high sense of responsibility and
 
 236 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 the thrill of an immense impetus to cany forward 
 the work which brought such rewards. He was 
 not yet fifty. Twenty years of splendid activity 
 should lie before him. Life opened out large 
 and luminous. 
 
 The elation was still upon him when the din- 
 ner was over and the party broke up. He and 
 Lamed came out of the hotel together, and stood 
 for an instant on the steps lighting their cigars, 
 sharply outlined against the light which streamed 
 through the plate-glass of the doors behind them. 
 
 "A foggy night," said Newton, peering out 
 toward the Strand through the gray mist. 
 
 44 Yes, foggy even for London," Lamed an- 
 swered. 
 
 The man at the entrance touched his hat and 
 " 'oped they 'd get safe 'ome, sirs." 
 
 " He evidently doubts our ability to take care 
 of ourselves after a dinner," said Larned. " Shall 
 we have this cab *? " 
 
 " Thanks ! But if you 'd as lief, I 'd rather 
 walk," Newton answered ; " I shall sleep better 
 to put in a bit of exercise between that dinner 
 and bed." 
 
 " It was a great ovation," said Larned, cor- 
 dially, " but disappointing as these big public af- 
 fairs always are from the point of talk. I 'd like 
 it if you would breakfast with me at the club
 
 "THE YOUNG PLANTS" 237 
 
 to-morrow at twelve, and we '11 get hold of 
 two or three other men who will be specially 
 interested to talk over your paper. By the way, 
 you will publish it, of course." 
 
 " I think not certainly not at present," New- 
 ton answered. * 4 It is in a sense copyrighted by 
 this semi-public reading, and before publishing 
 it I shall spend two or three years in verifying 
 and qualifying. It is a weakness of my coun- 
 trymen to rush into print with haldigested 
 theories." 
 
 " Not a weakness of yours ! " Lamed ex- 
 claimed, with enthusiasm; "your work has round- 
 ness, solidity, force." 
 
 " Thank you ; there is nothing I would rather 
 hear said of it ; but I feel its shortcomings. We 
 are babies in science compared with you fellows 
 over here ; but I am learning something of your 
 secret of concentration and limitation. I have 
 made up my mind to devote the rest of my life 
 to the study of psychoplasm." 
 
 Larned murmured something about " being on 
 your guard against narrowing influences." 
 
 " Narrowing, my dear Sir John ! Why, there 
 is nothing between heaven and hell toward which 
 it does not reach out. Life and death and im- 
 mortality are involved in the question of cellular 
 psychic activities. The only trouble is that so
 
 238 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 little can be done toward solving the problems 
 in a single lifetime ; but I have a son." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " Yes, a boy of sixteen. I intend that he shall 
 follow in my footsteps, and I hope that he will 
 go much further. He should, with all that I 
 can teach him and with the facilities which I 
 shall be able to place at his command." 
 
 " And the boy is he interested to pursue 
 this branch of work ? " 
 
 It was the same question which Fleming had 
 asked, and its iteration irritated Newton's over- 
 strung nerves. " It must interest him. It shall ! " 
 he went on insistently. " What in the world is 
 really worth living for in comparison with such 
 work as mine ? " 
 
 " It is a great work. I 'm not denying that. 
 Still I don't believe in forcing any one into it. 
 I have five boys of my own. Not one of them 
 cares a penny about my interests, and they all 
 hate the sight of my laboratory." 
 
 " And you don't insist upon it *? " 
 
 " Not I. If the beggars prefer boating and 
 cricket, why, let them. I took the responsibility 
 of bringing them into the world, and the least I 
 can do, now that they are here, is to give them a 
 happy boyhood. At least, that is the way I look 
 at it."
 
 "THE YOUNG PLANTS" 239 
 
 " After all," said Newton, " what we or our 
 children accomplish amounts to very little. The 
 individual is only the fly on the chariot-wheel. 
 All we can say is that it is better to be the fly on 
 the wheel than the log that stops its progress 
 even for an instant." 
 
 " Yes," assented Lamed ; " there is a kind of 
 dizzy delight in feeling the motion of the wheel 
 under us. But, after all, it is only one of the 
 pleasures of life ! " 
 
 Newton threw open his coat and took in a 
 deep breath of the night air. 
 
 " This sort of thing makes me homesick for 
 my laboratory," he said. " All these social func- 
 tions are pleasant and stimulating; but, for the 
 pure joy of living, give me the solitude of the 
 study, when there is no one to disturb you, and 
 you can go nosing about among the secrets 
 which nature shuts up in her closets. I can't 
 imagine anything making a man really unhappy 
 while he has his work." 
 
 " I can," Larned began ; but Newton broke 
 in: "No! Science is all-satisfying all-absorb- 
 ing. We must look to her for the joys which 
 men used to find in religion." 
 
 Larned shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " I question," he said, " whether science can 
 ever supply us with all-sufficing happiness, be-
 
 240 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 cause she makes no response to the emotions. 
 She is a Galatea for whom we may break our 
 hearts, but we cannot make her feel. She has 
 no tenderness for humanity, let them slave as 
 they will in her service." 
 
 " But the service, man ! The service is the 
 reward and the satisfaction and the glory. For 
 myself I ask nothing beyond. It suffices. These 
 are my lodgings," he added, as they stopped 
 before a red brick house with white trimmings. 
 " Is it too late to ask you to come in ? Good 
 night, then." 
 
 " Good night. And I will look for you at 
 twelve to-morrow at the club." 
 
 Newton went up the steps with the lightness 
 which is born of elation and simulates youth. 
 He turned the key in the door of his room and 
 entered. Sardonic fate gave no warning of what 
 awaited him within. 
 
 The landlady had looked after his comfort. 
 A glowing bed of coals freshly raked lay in the 
 grate, and a kettle simmered on the hob. New- 
 ton warmed his hands before the fire for a mo- 
 ment, then went to the closet, brought out a gray 
 earthenware jug, poured a portion of whisky into 
 a tumbler, and added hot water from the kettle. 
 
 He sat down in an apoplectic chair, fatly 
 cushioned, and covered in purple-red reps. The
 
 "THE YOUNG PLANTS" 241 
 
 glass stood on the table beside him, and as he 
 lifted it he saw for the first time a pile of enve- 
 lopes leaning against the lamp. The upper one 
 bore an American stamp. It was in his wife's 
 handwriting, and he opened it first, as in duty 
 bound. 
 
 Mrs. Newton wrote for the pleasure of the 
 sender rather than the receiver of the letter, and 
 she was not skilled in the art of selection. All 
 the events of the day had equal value in her 
 eyes, and found equal prominence on the pages 
 traced with her large round characters. The 
 vines had been planted, but the gardener was ter- 
 ribly upset because the order came so late, and 
 she was sure she did not know what she could 
 have done about it. How could she let him 
 know any earlier, when Newton would not an- 
 swer the questions about it in his last letter, and 
 did he think it was quite fair, when she was 
 taking all the trouble, that he should n't even 
 answer a simple question? 
 
 Newton's eye traveled rapidly over the page. 
 One can read rapidly when he is not afraid of 
 missing anything. On the next sheet it tran- 
 spired that the dog had caught a hedgehog and 
 that some of the quills were still lodged in the 
 roof of his mouth. She wished that her husband 
 would ask some of the scientific gentlemen he
 
 242 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 was meeting what would be the best lotion for a 
 dog's mouth. The carpets ought to be taken up 
 and beaten ; but she had decided to wait till fall 
 and send them to the Steam Cleaning Company. 
 She missed George and was glad that Newton 
 was having such a good time in London. For 
 herself, she preferred America. Europeans all 
 took their breakfast in bed and had other untidy 
 habits, and she was his affectionate wife, Ida 
 Wilkins Newton. 
 
 When Newton had finished reading the letter, 
 he folded it neatly, returned it to the envelope, 
 and laid it on the bed of coals, where it turned 
 bright for a time, and then reverted to its original 
 dullness. Newton had never acquired the habit 
 of preserving his wife's letters. 
 
 Having disposed of this, he looked over the 
 other envelopes in the pile, and after sorting out 
 and putting aside an unimportant half-dozen, he 
 took up a square one, broke the seal, then drew 
 the lamp nearer, and settled back in his chair as 
 he unfolded the sheet of paper " the fuel of his 
 suicide." The letter was from Fleming. 
 
 " DEAR NEWTON [it ran] : I hate to break in 
 upon your gala week there in London with bad 
 tidings, but they won't keep. I am afraid that 
 I have held my tongue too long. George seemed
 
 "THE YOUNG PLANTS" 243 
 
 so much better while we were in Naples that I 
 thought the turn for the better had come. Then 
 we came up to Rome, and something went wrong. 
 We had sunny rooms, and never went out at 
 night; but in spite of all, the cough came back, 
 and things have gone from bad to worse. We 
 hurried on to Florence to see Dr. Branchi, who 
 withheld his verdict till to-day. When I saw 
 him this morning he shook his head and said that 
 he thought the boy's father should be notified. 
 Of course we all hope that things may turn out 
 brighter than they look just now. George him- 
 self is hopeful, talks confidently of going home, 
 and would by no means forgive me if he knew 
 that I was writing to you. Perhaps when 
 you come you will find him so much better 
 that you will fall on me with deserved impre- 
 cations for giving you an unnecessary fright; 
 if not" 
 
 Here the letter ended abruptly, as if the writer 
 had been suddenly called away and only took 
 time, on returning to his writing, to scrawl 
 " Blair Fleming " at the end, followed by a hasty 
 postscript : 
 
 "The doctor thinks you 'd .better come at 
 once."
 
 244 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 When he had finished reading, Newton turned 
 the page and began again, forcing himself to take 
 in the meaning of the words and the weightier 
 meaning that lay between the words; then he 
 laid the letter on the table, and smoothed it 
 out with trembling fingers. As he sank back, 
 his face showed drawn and pallid against the 
 purple-red of the chair. His eyes were fixed 
 upon the graying ashes in the grate; but they 
 saw nothing. 
 
 So this was the end. He seemed to have 
 known it all along now. In a vault of his 
 subliminal consciousness this ghost had been 
 shut up; now it had burst its cerements and 
 would not down. No, never again ! Doomed! 
 
 "By that one word hitting the center of a boundless sorrow." 
 
 George was doomed! He could not quite take 
 it in yet; his mind felt too numb to grasp it; 
 but he knew that it was so. With the accept- 
 ance of the fact he seemed to feel the clods of 
 the grave falling on himself. He had accepted 
 long ago with calmness the relinquishment of 
 individual immortality; but all the more he had 
 clung to the idea of race-perpetuation and the 
 continuance by one of his line of the work which 
 he had begun. This alone seemed to make it
 
 "THE YOUNG PLANTS" 245 
 
 worth while by lending a semblance of perma- 
 nence to what was otherwise but the shadow of a 
 moth's wing outlined for a moment against the 
 light. 
 
 George doomed! Suddenly a rush of human ten- 
 derness drove out all abstract reasoning His boy 
 lost, gone forever, perhaps even now while he sat 
 passive there in his arm-chair. Unconciously 
 his lowered eyes fell upon the decoration on his 
 coat. How full of meaning it had been but an 
 hour ago ! How empty now ! He was a physi- 
 cian and had not been able to save his own child ! 
 A wave of remorse swept over the man and bur- 
 ied him in its bitter depths. Alas ! it was not 
 skill that had been lacking, but will. His life 
 had made its own channels and would not let it- 
 self be diverted by an inch. He had meant that 
 his son's life, too, should be merged in the same 
 current and swell its volume before it reached 
 the sea. He had neglected the boy. He had 
 shut his eyes to danger until it was too late too 
 late ! The thought stung him beyond endurance. 
 He rose hastily, and unpinning the decoration 
 from his breast, held it in his hand over the table, 
 where the light of the lamp fell full upon its 
 glittering circle. There it lay the symbol of 
 the success for which he had sacrificed every- 
 thing, which had seemed so tangible, so full, so
 
 246 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 satisfying, and now was turned to a child's toy 
 in his hand. Work and fame he had coveted 
 for his portion, and they had fallen to his share 
 in abundance, yet hope lay dead in his heart. 
 What was it all worth to him now *? His son, 
 his only son, was the sacrifice. 
 
 The twenty years of splendid activity which 
 had loomed glorious before him looked now like 
 a twenty-mile pilgrimage, each mile marked by 
 a gravestone. 
 
 The clock on the mantel ticked dully on, then 
 gathered itself with a whirring effort, struck three, 
 and stopped.
 
 XV 
 
 ON THE TERRACE 
 
 " There is a war against ourselves going on within every one of M." 
 
 GEORGE NEWTON was better; that is, 
 he was experiencing one of those rallies 
 which elate the patient and torture the onlookers 
 with a renewal of their forsworn hope. All day 
 the boy had been at ease and happy, and as Mrs. 
 Blythe, with the Bishop and Fleming, sat down 
 to dinner, the strains of his violin floated down 
 to them from the room above. 
 
 It was a somewhat somber party which gathered 
 round the table, Anne's black lace gown affording 
 no relief to the dullness of the men's dress. But as 
 if to balance their somber habit, the table at which 
 they sat burgeoned and bloomed with color. 
 Candelabra of Venice glass held pink lights, 
 which duplicated themselves in the cluster of 
 roses in the center. Plates of Ginori ware 
 blended their cream and orange and blue, and 
 wine-glasses held up by opalescent dragons bub- 
 bled with their amber burden. 
 
 24?
 
 248 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " George is certainly better," said the Bishop. 
 
 "He seems better. I am glad to have his 
 father find him so when he comes," Fleming 
 answered. 
 
 " Well, for my part," Anne answered, " I am 
 not at all concerned about Mr. Newton's feelings. 
 They do not seem to be of a particularly tender 
 variety, and I don't see why we should wish to 
 spare him his share of the anxiety that we have 
 all been going through." 
 
 " Newton has feelings, plenty of them," expos- 
 tulated Fleming, who made a fetish of loyalty to 
 his friends, " but they have had no chance to de- 
 velop. His devotion to science has been like a 
 prairie fire, sweeping everything before it and 
 killing off all the domestic affections. You are 
 smiling, Mrs. Blythe." 
 
 " Was I ? Yes, I believe I was." 
 
 " At me, perhaps." 
 
 " Why, now that you mention it, I think it 
 must have been at you." 
 
 " Was my absurdity general or particular ? " 
 
 " Oh, it was the phrase * domestic affections ' 
 which struck me as funny coming from you. 
 You always seem so so detached. I think of 
 you as a pendulum swinging between your club 
 and your office." 
 
 "A pendulum ! Is that a desirable thing to be?"
 
 ON THE TERRACE 249 
 
 " Evidently/' Mrs. Blythe answered, still smil- 
 ing, when a cough faintly heard made Fleming 
 start from his chair; but the Bishop stretched 
 out a detaining hand. 
 
 "Giulio is with him. He will call you if you 
 are needed." 
 
 " Yes," added Anne, " and the boy has seemed 
 so well all day ! " 
 
 " You think him better, honestly ? " 
 
 " Don't you ? " 
 
 " I wish I dared to." 
 
 " What a coward you are in hoping ! " 
 
 Anne smiled at him as she spoke, and he an- 
 swered her with a look. To the Bishop he said : 
 
 " My reason tells me that I ought not to wish 
 George to come back to that invalidism which is 
 all that the poor boy could hope for that half- 
 health which brings duties and denies strength to 
 meet them." 
 
 "But," said Anne, determined to break up 
 Fleming's despondency, "think how much of 
 the world's work has been done by invalids! If 
 I ever lose my health, I shall flaunt my invalid- 
 ism in the face of the world as a badge of 
 distinction. I shall adopt a coat of arms 
 a hot-water bottle couchant and a plaster 
 rampant, quartered with a mortar and pestle, 
 and for a motto quick give me a motto, 
 
 16
 
 250 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 uncle what 's the Latin for * Grin and bear 
 it'?" 
 
 " Ridete et sursum corda" suggested the Bishop. 
 Then they all laughed and Anne had succeeded 
 in her purpose. 
 
 ** Think of the pedigree of invalidism ! What 
 an aristocracy we could select from our invalid 
 ancestors ! " the Bishop continued. 
 
 " Yes," Fleming assented ; " we might have 
 Csesar and Napoleon for rulers and Hood and 
 Heine for their jesters. Heine, there 's an in- 
 valid hero for you! Do you think, Bishop, if 
 you were given your choice, you would rather be 
 a healthy, hearty, full-blooded day-laborer or a 
 Heine in his mattress-grave *? " 
 
 " Heine ! " said the Bishop ; " without a mo- 
 ment's hesitation I should say Heine. Why, of 
 course; there would be the lucid intervals, you 
 see, when pain relaxed its grasp, and these would 
 offset years of stolid physical comfort. The 
 mind must dominate the body." 
 
 " But then," ventured Fleming, with his char- 
 acteristic smile, which never failed to dislodge 
 his glasses, " you must not forget that the laborer 
 would probably stand a better chance of heaven. 
 Your profession binds you, I suppose, to place 
 soul as far above mind as you place mind above 
 body."
 
 ON THE TERRACE 251 
 
 " H'm ! " said the Bishop, lifting his wine-glass, 
 and looking at the light through it with half-shut 
 eyes and head a little on one side. " Socially 
 the virtues are everything; sociologically they 
 are not. History asks not, was a man impec- 
 cable, but was he imperial what did he do? 
 Napoleon is a code and a unified France. Heine 
 is no longer a libertine and a scoffer; he is a 
 bundle of lyrics and epigrams." 
 
 "Cleverly evaded, but not answered," said 
 Fleming to himself, and he resolved to prod the 
 Bishop a little further. 
 
 " You think, then, that a man may ignore his 
 private morality if he sees his way to accomplish- 
 ing some marked public service that genius 
 supersedes the decalogue." 
 
 " How do you know that I think so ? I 
 have n't said so." 
 
 " Excuse me," said Fleming ; " I thought it 
 was the inevitable inference from your last re- 
 mark." 
 
 The Bishop, thus brought to bay, adopted the 
 oblique method of defense and attack combined. 
 
 " You see, Anne," he said, turning to Mrs. 
 Blythe, " Mr. Fleming would rob conversation 
 of its delightful irresponsibility, and substitute a 
 series of just and dreary observations by intro- 
 ducing legal methods into social intercourse.
 
 252 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 He butchers the half-truth to make a legal holi- 
 day." 
 
 " Yes, uncle, and the half-truth is very agree- 
 able, is n't it ? We feel so clever in supplying 
 the other half! Whereas a whole truth bowls us 
 over and leaves us no recourse but tame acqui- 
 escence, or eccentric defiance of the obvious. 
 When you lawyers kill the half-truth, Mr. Flem- 
 ing, you kill conversation." 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Blythe ! " exclaimed Fleming, 
 with deprecating eyebrows, "have I deserved 
 this to be called a prig under guise of being 
 called a lawyer, a soft impeachment which I can- 
 not deny *? " 
 
 Before Anne could reply, the Bishop, who was 
 quite satisfied to slip out so easily from the con- 
 versational coil in which he had found himself 
 entangled, blandly suggested coffee on the ter- 
 race. 
 
 " I must go back to George," said Fleming, 
 with a sting of compunction. 
 
 " No," the Bishop said, rising; " I shall sit with 
 George. Coffee keeps me awake, and I have 
 not strength of mind enough to forego it except 
 under the incentive of a benevolent motive." 
 
 Fleming felt that he, too, lacked strength of 
 mind to decline either the coffee or the moonlight 
 tete-a-tete on the terrace with Anne. So he only
 
 ON THE TERRACE 253 
 
 said, " Thank you," to the Bishop, and followed 
 his hostess through the long window to the little 
 table where the red-coated serving-men were 
 already setting the coffee-tray, lighting the alco- 
 hol lamp, and laying out the tobacco and rice- 
 paper. He sank back into the lounging-chair 
 and watched with a sense of physical content the 
 motion of Mrs. Blythe's slender fingers as they 
 rolled the cigarettes and laid them in a deft row 
 on his side of the table. The diamond on her 
 left hand caught the sparkle of the alcohol flame 
 and blazed like an answering fire. Her head 
 was bent, and his eye noted the curls at the base 
 of her small head where it joined the neck. 
 
 " Is she a beautiful woman ? " he asked him- 
 self, and remembered a time when he would 
 have said " No " quite positively. Now he 
 found himself thinking, if this were not beauty, 
 so much the worse for beauty. There is a charm 
 which can afford to smile at any appraisement of 
 the value of features. Is the nose straight by 
 rule, is the mouth of undue width, the chin too 
 pointed ? What does it all matter when a smile 
 can rob men of the power to judge?" 
 
 For these few days in which fate had thrown 
 them together Fleming had resolved to give 
 himself up to this woman's spell, to live in the 
 light of her eyes and the lilt of her voice. For
 
 254 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 one week he would bask in her presence and 
 drift; after that he would take control of himself 
 once more, man the helm, and steer for safer waters. 
 
 Anne was agreeably aware that she was being 
 watched and that she bore watching. The lazi- 
 ness of Fleming's look gave a sense of tranquillity 
 and robbed her of apprehension, yet it told un- 
 mistakably of appreciation, and hinted at some- 
 thing beyond. 
 
 " We forgot Keats, did n't we, among our 
 invalids *? " Anne said, taking up the dinner- 
 table talk once more as she poured the coffee 
 into the tiny cups with their setting of filigree 
 silver. 
 
 " Yes, we forgot Keats." 
 
 " That is curious." 
 
 " Curious ? I don't see that. We could n't 
 think of every one. Why of him more than 
 another ? " 
 
 " Because you always make me think of that 
 friend of his Severn, was n't it? I can im- 
 agine you doing just what Severn did. In his 
 place you 'd have thrown over your profession 
 and gone to Rome and nursed Keats till he 
 died, just as you 're doing with George Newton." 
 
 " Why, yes, of course, if he 'd been my friend. 
 So would you." 
 
 Anne narrowed her eyelids till the eyelashes
 
 ON THE TERRACE 25$ 
 
 almost met. "Perhaps," she said doubtfully, 
 ** if he were a genius and I knew it, and knew 
 that I should be immortalized in the 'Adonais.' 
 Otherwise not; it is n't in me." 
 
 Fleming reached forward and took another 
 cigarette. The darkness fell broodingly. The 
 moon climbed slowly over the hill opposite. 
 
 At last Anne spoke abruptly. 
 
 " I am going home next month." 
 
 " Yes ? " 
 
 "Not home to New York, you know. It 
 would be hot and and rather dreary, and I have 
 not courage enough yet to face that house and 
 all its associations. No; I mean to write and 
 have them open Driftwood. You know Mr. 
 Blythe bought that the year before he died." 
 
 " Yes," said Fleming again. 
 
 " And I have done something else." 
 
 " Something very radical and startling, by 
 your tone." 
 
 " It is, and I dare say I shall be awfully sorry 
 for it by and by; but it is you who are respon- 
 sible." 
 
 " I ! " 
 
 " You." 
 
 "Explain, please." 
 
 " I call it obnoxious to be as good as you are. 
 It sets such an uncomfortable standard."
 
 256 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "Yes, my judgments are so kindly and my 
 social relations so easy and genial ! " 
 
 "They are n't, are they? I 've thought of 
 that, and tried to take comfort, but I can't. I 
 see clearly that it 's only doing good to people 
 that gives you a right not to like them and 
 so and so " 
 
 " And so you 've sent for the child ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I knew you would. You, being you, could n't 
 help it. Still, it 's taking a great risk. I 'm 
 afraid you 're right in saying that you will be 
 sorry." 
 
 " Very likely ;. but you don't know quite what 
 I mean to do. I could n't keep him with me. 
 You don't think I ought to do that ? " 
 
 " I should think it the most foolish thing you 
 could possibly do." 
 
 " I don't know. I suppose some women arc 
 good enough to do it. I 'm not. But I mean 
 to take the responsibility of bringing up the boy, 
 giving him an education and a start in the world. 
 My maid has a sister who lives in New Hamp- 
 shire, under the shadow of Monadnock. She 
 has promised to care for the child, and she is 
 to be trusted. Of course, when he is older, we 
 must do something else ; but I don't need to decide 
 that now. You think that is doing my duty ? "
 
 ON THE TERRACE 257 
 
 " I do, Mrs. Blythc, I truly do," Fleming an- 
 swered earnestly. " I should be surprised at 
 your doing so much if I had not been watching 
 you all these weeks and seeing how you do your 
 duty with one hand and shake your fist at it with 
 the other. Do you know, a year ago I thought 
 you perhaps needed forgive me for being im- 
 pertinent enough to speculate about you but I 
 thought the discipline of unhappiness might be 
 good for you ; and here you 've come by every 
 wish of your heart, and prosperity has done as 
 much for you as adversity ever did for the most un- 
 happy-go-unlucky wight in the world. It 's a com- 
 fort to see things work like that once in a while. 
 Now, look at all you Ve been doing for George." 
 
 "Nothing at all absolutely nothing." 
 
 " Too much by far. You are overtaxing your 
 strength ; but it will not be for long. If Newton 
 arrives to-night, as he should, or even to-morrow 
 morning, we can leave next day, and take George 
 by easy stages to Genoa, giving him a rest at 
 Pisa and again at Spezia before the steamer sails. 
 Newton telegraphed that he would start for 
 home at once." 
 
 " You are in a hurry to be off." 
 
 " In a way I am. I feel this trespassing on 
 your hospitality ; but I can't regret it when I see 
 what it has done for George."
 
 258 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " You are not going back to America with 
 them ? " 
 
 "No; I have business in Paris next month, 
 and it would be crossing the ocean to take the 
 next steamer back again ; but I must go as far 
 as Genoa and see George safely on board ship." 
 
 " But his father will be with him." 
 
 " Yes ; another reason why I ought to go. A 
 gift for cellular psychology does not imply a 
 knowledge of ticket-buying and luggage-check- 
 ing." 
 
 " You could not be persuaded to stay over a 
 day and join them at Genoa ? " 
 
 Fleming flicked the ashes from his cigarette 
 with his little finger. It gave him an instant to 
 reflect on his reply. 
 
 " It is a triumph of hospitality to suggest it," 
 he said, "after all the bother we 've given you; 
 but I must not let myself think of it. You see, 
 I 'm only a nuisance here, and George really 
 needs me." 
 
 " Yes," said Anne, reluctantly ; " I suppose 
 he does, and my need of you is quite frivolous." 
 
 Fleming tossed away his cigarette and leaned 
 forward, throwing his face into the light. It was 
 tense and lined. 
 
 " Your ' need,' did you say *? " 
 
 " Need is a strong word to apply to a horse-
 
 ON THE TERRACE 259 
 
 back ride. The fact is that ever since I 've been 
 here I 've been longing to ride to Vincigliata 
 the castle, you know, back here on the hills, 
 that a rich Englishman has been restoring to all 
 its middle-agedness, even to spits and donjon keys. 
 Now, my absurd uncle won't consent to my go- 
 ing with the groom, and it would be cruelty to 
 ask him to go himself; so, you see, I thought 
 perhaps you would n't mind sacrificing yourself, 
 But it is really of no consequence, for, whatever 
 Uncle Lawrence may say, I shall go with the 
 groom." 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed Fleming. " The 
 Bishop is quite right in protesting over these 
 roads with untried horses " 
 
 " They 're not untried," said Anne. " Some 
 English people had the villa last year, and I 
 fancy the horses were broken to saddle then, 
 Luigi says that two of them have a very fair 
 gait, and there 's a third which pounds along 
 after a fashion." 
 
 " You really mean to go *? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Then, with your permission, I shall change 
 my mind and accept your invitation to stay over 
 a day." 
 
 " No, no, you must n't. George would miss 
 you."
 
 260 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Let him." 
 
 " Dr. Newton could n't get on without you." 
 
 " No matter." 
 
 " I am quite ashamed to have asked it." 
 
 " Mrs. Blythe," said Fleming, looking at her 
 with a dominant eye, "let this be understood 
 between us, please. Your lightest wish counts 
 with me more than all the needs and wishes of 
 the rest of the world. Now, don't let us ever 
 refer to the subject again." 
 
 As he finished, a sound of wheels was heard. 
 
 " Newton !" exclaimed Fleming, rising quickly, 
 "and high time, too." 
 
 " Yes, it was Newton who descended heavily 
 from the carriage at the gate Newton ; but so 
 changed, so broken, that Fleming had difficulty 
 in recognizing him, and even Anne forgave him 
 much as she looked at his worn, white face. As 
 for him, he took their hands absently as if neither 
 they nor he were real. 
 
 " May I see George ? Is he awake *? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " You will not have some supper before you 
 see him ? " 
 
 " No ; please take me to him." 
 
 The door of George's room stood open, and 
 the Bishop was reading by the light of a shaded 
 night-lamp. He bowed gravely to Nevrton as
 
 ON THE TERRACE 261 
 
 he entered, but did not attempt to speak for fear 
 of disturbing the sleeping boy. 
 
 Newton walked to the bed and stood looking 
 down at the sunken cheek, the drawn lips, the 
 damp straggling hair. 
 
 He attempted no word of speech simply 
 looked and looked and looked. 
 
 Anne and the Bishop went out softly and 
 closed the door.
 
 XVI 
 
 AT SANTA CROCE 
 " One task more declined one more foot-path untrod." 
 
 NO one except a baby is so much missed 
 from a household as an invalid. If we 
 wish to be necessary to people we must let them 
 do for us. 
 
 George Newton's departure had cast a gloom 
 over the whole of the Villa Piacevole. The 
 sympathetic Italian servants went about with red 
 yes. "// poverino!" murmured one. "Ma, 
 cuor forte rompe cattiva sorte ! " They had 
 been much impressed with George's courage and 
 cheerfulness, and now they stood at the door of 
 his empty, silent room, awed as if there had been 
 a funeral. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe herself felt the depression that 
 comes of relaxed effort. There seemed of a sud- 
 den to be no occupation for her time. Of what 
 use to arrange flowers ? Every one of the house- 
 hold now was strong enough to go out of doors 
 and look at the tangled poppy banks and tulip 
 
 262
 
 AT SANTA CROCE 263 
 
 beds on the hillside. Why coop up a dozen 
 tulips in a vase when nature spread her lavish 
 thousands in the open? 
 
 No more ordering of delicate invalid's dishes ; 
 no gathering of news to beguile the sick-room 
 hours. Time hung heavily on her hands. More- 
 over, it would be worse instead of better, for to- 
 morrow Fleming was going, and beyond that 
 event Anne did not care to look. 
 
 Meanwhile, at least there was the ride. As 
 she came down the stairs dressed for it in her 
 closely fitted riding-dress, held tightly around 
 her above the little booted feet, she saw ,her 
 uncle, in the hall below, drawing on his gloves 
 and tucking his gold-headed cane under his arm. 
 He looked at her not wholly approvingly as he 
 noted her riding-dress. 
 
 *' So you are determined on this ride ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes ; why not ? " 
 
 " It is so so noticeable. People don't do it 
 here." 
 
 " But people are going to do it this afternoon. 
 ' That 's the way this duchess walks.' " 
 
 " Anne, you are obstinate, and obstinacy is not 
 pleasing in women." 
 
 " No," said his niece, taking the edges of his 
 coat in both hands and smiling into his face ; 
 " only in bishops ! "
 
 264 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 The Bishop had eaten an indigestible luncheon 
 and was a bit out of temper; therefore he was 
 led to say abruptly and explosively what he had 
 been meaning to say sometime judicially and 
 tactfully. 
 
 " Anne, you have had an overdose of freedom. 
 You need to marry." 
 
 Mrs. Blythe gave a short little laugh. 
 
 " It makes marriage sound very attractive, 
 certainly, this opposition to liberty ! " 
 
 "Nevertheless, it is exactly what I mean. 
 You should marry a man of sound sense and 
 strong character, who would rule you not so 
 much by force of will as by force of a supe- 
 riority to which you could not help bowing." 
 
 Anne swept him a salute with her riding-crop. 
 
 " Have you selected the person ? " 
 
 " No ; I have only selected the type. That is 
 as far as a guardian is justified in going." 
 
 " How would young Hawtree Campbell suit 
 you ? " 
 
 " A fop, a fribble, who divides his time between 
 Vienna and the hunting-field." 
 
 " But his estates have the dust of time on 
 them, and the dust of time is the one thing 
 which my money has not yet been able to buy. 
 Well, then, if you don't like him, there is the 
 Personage. I have been given to understand
 
 AT SANTA CROCE 265 
 
 that my graces would add luster to the ranks of 
 the Italian aristocracy." 
 
 " If I were you, Anne," said the Bishop, dryly, 
 " I should count that offer out. When the terms 
 of the will are known, I suspect insuperable ob- 
 stacles difference of religion, etc. will arise. 
 I have seen such things happen; love undergoes 
 a gold-cure." 
 
 " Uncle Lawrence, you are not flattering to 
 your niece's attractions; but if my charms really 
 depend wholly on gold, I don't see but I am 
 forced back on Tom Yates." 
 
 " Yates ! I 'd rather see you buried than mar- 
 ried to him." 
 
 " Please don't talk about Tom you don't 
 understand him. He is n't your kind, but he is 
 a thoroughly good fellow for all that ; at least, I 
 am fond of him in a curious way." 
 
 "Don't tell me, Anne, that you are one of 
 those women who think that they can reform 
 men by marrying them ! " 
 
 " I 'm not sure that I could n't. But if you 
 don't like him, there is no one left but Mr. Wai- 
 ford." 
 
 " Well, women are blind ! " The Bishop 
 threw back the remark as he left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe did not appear to be greatly per- 
 turbed by his contempt. She walked to the
 
 266 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 buhl table, on which stood a vase of roses, and 
 drawing out one, was pinning it to her dress 
 when Fleming came in from the stable, where he 
 had been inspecting the girth of the side-saddle 
 with some anxiety. Like most spare, square men, 
 he looked well in his corduroys and riding-boots. 
 
 ** Will you wear a rose in your buttonhole, 
 too ? " asked Mrs. Blythe. 
 
 " Thank you," said Fleming, and drew near to 
 Anne, as she sorted the flowers. While she was 
 busy fastening the rose in his coat, he stood with 
 hands behind him, carefully staring over her head 
 at the wall beyond ; but it did him no good, for 
 a mirror hung there and reflected him and her 
 standing close together, wearing what bore a fan- 
 tastic likeness to bridal favors. Every nerve in 
 him thrilled, the color rose in his cheek and a 
 light in his eyes ; but he bit his lips to keep back 
 the words that rushed to them. Men fancy, poor, 
 simple things, that all is well if they give their 
 emotions no words, as if words were not the least 
 of the signs by which a woman interprets their 
 feeling for her. 
 
 " Do men ever care how they look ? " asked 
 Mrs. Blythe, standing back with appreciative 
 scrutiny in her eyes. 
 
 "No; as a rule, they care more how the 
 woman with them looks, which is fortunate."
 
 AT SANTA CROCK 267 
 
 Anne smiled. She liked a man who took his 
 cue. 
 
 " Shall we go *? " she suggested. " I see the 
 horses are at the door." 
 
 Half-way down the hill they passed the Bishop. 
 Anne waved her hand airily. 
 
 " Don't worry about us, uncle," she called out 
 as they passed. " The worst that can happen is 
 to have ' Inglesi ' shouted at our heels." 
 
 Anne's horse shied a little, and Fleming caught 
 the bridle. 
 
 " The horses are hard-bitted, but safe enough. 
 I shall take care of her," he said in answer to the 
 Bishop's anxious glance. 
 
 " I am sure of it," the Bishop answered, and 
 started onward more placidly. His plan was to 
 walk down the hill and through the city as far 
 as Santa Croce, where the sharp lights promised 
 a good view of the frescos, and then to drive 
 home. He looked after the two figures on horse- 
 back somewhat wistfully, and yet he was not in 
 the least depressed at the prospect of his solitary 
 afternoon. He was no longer young, and Anne's 
 conversational pace sometimes put him out of 
 breath. Besides, as he grew older he became 
 more and more interested in what was true versus 
 what was clever. Having no divining-rod to 
 show him truth, he was compelled to dig for
 
 268 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 it, and digging for truth is a solitary, pioneer 
 process. It cannot be done in gangs. 
 
 Moreover, under the surface of worldliness in 
 the Bishop's character there lay a foundation of 
 genuine piety, which made it a pleasure to medi- 
 tate alone in the dim silence of these Old World 
 churches and give himself up to the sacred asso- 
 ciations of the place. 
 
 He particularly looked forward to seeing the 
 Franciscan frescos alone. Nothing made him 
 realize his age as much as the art criticism which 
 he heard about him. It was the jargon of a new 
 generation a patois not to be learned late in 
 life. For himself, he was contented to enjoy the 
 pictures without knowing whether they were in 
 the artist's early or later manner, or by whom the 
 restorations had been made. In fact, he found it 
 difficult to leave his profession behind him, and 
 he caught himself making surreptitious notes in 
 a little red book concerning the spiritual impres- 
 sions left by certain paintings ; and this, as every 
 one knows, bespeaks the barbarian in art. 
 
 To-day, as Santa Croce's brown coolness fell 
 on him, it put him in mind of the mantle of St. 
 Francis. He felt himself calmed and tranquil- 
 ized, yet quickened in spirit, as if by actual con- 
 tact with that sweetest of all the saints. Gradu- 
 ally he fell to brooding over the life of Francis,
 
 AT SANTA CROCK 269 
 
 the place of asceticism in the modern world, the 
 relative rights of self-sacrifice and self-develop- 
 ment what were the limits of each? 
 
 He stood in the Capello Bardi and looked up 
 at the picture of the saint giving his cloak to a 
 beggar, and leaving his father's house to wed with 
 poverty. How medieval in its passionately sim- 
 ple conception of duty ! The Bishop felt the 
 modern longing for that age of uncomplexity 
 and conviction. What terrors had loneliness or 
 poverty or death for the soul sure of its mission *? 
 
 " After all," said the Bishop to himself, " the 
 influence of a great and generous enthusiasm is 
 not to be measured by its direct results. It is 
 like a cross set up to mark a well in the desert. 
 Many travelers who may never taste of the waters 
 yet see the cross in the distance and uncover their 
 heads in prayer." 
 
 With this his eyes fell, and in falling struck 
 full on Stuart Walford. 
 
 Neither of the men was in the mood for an 
 interview, but the recognition had been too pal- 
 pable. Walford closed his Baedeker and moved 
 across to the spot where the Bishop was standing. 
 He came forward smiling, and with the slight 
 backward toss of the head which was a charac- 
 teristic gesture with him. 
 
 " Good afternoon," he said. " I suppose you
 
 270 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 came here, as I did, hoping for a good light on 
 the frescos. They 're interesting, don't you 
 think, in spite of being such palpable restora- 
 tions?" 
 
 " I was not criticizing," answered the Bishop 
 " not criticizing or even appreciating. I was 
 reflecting." 
 
 "Yes, that 's all one can do when the light is 
 so bad. Disappointing, is n't it ? " 
 
 " Rather." 
 
 " Santa Croce is jealous of the sun.'* 
 
 " It does seem so." 
 
 This was the first conversation which these two 
 men had had alone together since that day in the 
 Bishop's study. At such a meeting there is no 
 medium between confidence and commonplace. 
 Both minds are too full of vital things. They 
 must either speak or wear a mask. 
 
 Bishop Alston always refrained, on principle, 
 from meddling in other people's spiritual affairs. 
 He held that it was not the office of a bishop to 
 go about with his crozier in the collar of society. 
 " After all, I do not keep a black-sheep ranch," 
 he was accustomed to say. Yet, strangely 
 enough, this reticence of his impelled confi- 
 dences. There is nothing that men love so much 
 as talking of themselves, especially to those who 
 are not over-eager to hear.
 
 AT SANTA CROCE 271 
 
 " You know what month this is, Bishop ? " 
 Walford began with heightened color. 
 
 "Certainly; April." 
 
 "And have you any recollection of me and 
 my affairs connected with that date *? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," the Bishop answered calmly ; " this 
 was the time agreed upon, eighteen months ago, 
 for your final decision in regard to your mission 
 to the lepers at Molokai. Have you made it *? " 
 
 " Bishop Alston," Walford answered, " I feel 
 that I can never thank you enough for your 
 counsel. I came to you a raw boy, full of a boy's 
 enthusiasm and a boy's unpractical ideals." 
 
 " I suppose that all ideals are unpractical." 
 
 " Yes," Walford went on smoothly ; " ideals 
 are given to us as stars to light our course. We 
 must not try to carry them as lanterns." 
 
 " I don't think I meant exactly that," the 
 Bishop dissented mildly. 
 
 "Oh, I quite understood you," said Walford; 
 " and in looking back I understand the mingled 
 pity and amusement with which you must have 
 regarded me and my wild scheme." 
 
 " Indeed, no ! I never respected any man 
 more." 
 
 " Ah, that is like you, Bishop. You look to 
 the motive and forgive the crudeness of the act. 
 But your advice was excellent. I have acted
 
 272 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 upon it to the letter, and the result is what you 
 of course foresaw." 
 
 " You have given up the mission ? " 
 
 "Yes; that was a foregone conclusion from 
 the moment when I realized my own powers and 
 their true sphere." 
 
 The Bishop nodded. He did not trust him- 
 self to speak. 
 
 " I have stood in the pulpit there at St. 
 Simeon's," Walford continued, " and I have seen 
 that great audience swayed by the words it was 
 given me to speak. Through me ten thousand 
 agencies for good have been stirred and set in mo- 
 tion; the rich men have given of their plenty and 
 the poor of their scanty store ; the young men have 
 pressed forward to help in my work, and the 
 mothers have brought their babes to the font to 
 be consecrated by me to God. They have begged 
 me with tears in their eyes to help them in their 
 sacred charge of rearing their children. When I 
 realize all these things, I feel that I have known 
 the highest happiness possible to man." 
 
 "And the lepers do you still have the 
 vision of them on their lonely island ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it still haunts me at times. I think 
 of them with infinite pity and sadness ; but I try 
 to shut out the thought as much as possible, for 
 nothing so unmans one for the every-day duties
 
 AT SANTA CROCK 273 
 
 as allowing one's imagination to dwell on ills too 
 far off to be helped, and which do not rightfully 
 fall within his line of activity. It is a form of 
 self-indulgence, and nothing wrecks a career like 
 self-indulgence." 
 
 " Nothing," assented the Bishop, dryly. 
 
 " I had a letter to-day from Dr. Milner," Wai- 
 ford continued. " If I had had any doubts about 
 my course before, this would have put an end to 
 them, it is such a clear pointing of the finger of 
 Providence." 
 
 " Sometimes I think," said the Bishop to him- 
 self, " that the finger of Providence must be set 
 on a swivel, it points in so many different direc- 
 tions." 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to read the letter," 
 Walford volunteered. 
 
 The Bishop shook his head. 
 
 " Thank you, but my eyes will not serve me 
 in this half-twilight. I shall be glad to have you 
 tell me as much as you will of its contents." 
 
 Walford looked a trifle crestfallen. The letter 
 was highly complimentary, and compliments to 
 one's self are difficult to transmit through one's 
 own lips. 
 
 " Dr. Milner writes," went on Walford, after a 
 moment's hesitation, " that my success last win- 
 ter convinced him of my ability to carry on his
 
 274 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 work; that he has talked with the vestrymen, 
 and that they agree upon calling me in his 
 place when he resigns, as he intends to do next 
 January." 
 
 " Dear old Milner ! " interpolated the Bishop. 
 " How we shall miss him, and what a noble life 
 his has been ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes. As I was saying, when he resigns 
 next January I am to have the call an extraor- 
 dinary thing for so young a man, I see you 
 think, and so it is, but all the more gratifying for 
 that, and I shall always feel that I owe all that I 
 am to you and your counsel." 
 
 "Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed the Bishop, 
 and then added somewhat lamely : " You must 
 regard your success as wholly due to your own 
 temperament and talents. I should not be jus- 
 tified in accepting an iota of the credit." 
 
 " But I shall insist upon giving it." 
 
 *" Don't, please ; for credit implies responsi- 
 bility." 
 
 " Ah, you think that I may not live up to the 
 record I have made so far ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, I am sure you will." 
 
 The Bishop was apparently about to say more ; 
 but just then the bell of the Campanile sounded 
 its four strokes. 
 
 Walford looked at his watch deprecatingly.
 
 AT SANTA CROCK 275 
 
 " I am sorry," he said, '* but I have an engage- 
 ment with Miss Yates at four." 
 
 "You are already late then," the Bishop 
 answered, conscious of a marked relief. "Are 
 you to be in Florence for some time longer ? " 
 
 " No ; I leave Florence for Geneva to-morrow, 
 and as I fear I shall not have time to go to Fie- 
 sole, I shall, if I may, ask you to be the bearer 
 of my farewells to Mrs. Blythe. Tell her, please, 
 that I expect to sail from Naples, and so I shall 
 hope to see her when I pass through Florence again." 
 
 "Certainly; I will convey your farewells with 
 pleasure," said the Bishop, and then was aware 
 that the reply had not been exactly felicitous. 
 The younger man, however, was too self-absorbed 
 to be conscious of a secondary meaning in the 
 words. He held out his hand, which the Bishop 
 took, and then both men bowed and parted. 
 
 " Now, I wonder," said the Bishop to himself, 
 as he watched Walford disappearing down the 
 long aisle "I wonderwhy I feel as if I had heard 
 the death-sentence of a soul. After all, what is 
 it that Walford is about to do? To accept a 
 call to one of the most important and influential 
 churches in the country. Is that a tragic des- 
 tiny *? " Then Jean Paul's words floated through 
 his mind : " Tragic destiny is the long-reverber- 
 ating mountain-echo of a human discord."
 
 276 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " That 's it," he murmured ; " that 's it ! It 
 is what a man might have been which jars on 
 what he is. When a man has once stood on the 
 Mount of Vision, when he has once heard the 
 call of God to his soul and has made answer, 
 ' Here am I,' he can never go back to dwell in 
 the valley of commonplace. The miasma there, 
 to which ordinary men have become immune, is 
 deadly to him. It will kill Walford. I wonder 
 if I did right."
 
 XVII 
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 
 
 " I will ride until the end, 
 Half your lover_ all your friend." 
 
 IT was one of those Tuscan April days when 
 the earth is pied with violets, and the air is 
 like heady Greek wine, and one carries the gob- 
 let of life steadily lest a single precious drop be 
 spilled untasted. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe and Fleming came out from the 
 Vincigliata castle; but ignoring their horses, 
 which the groom was holding on the plateau be- 
 fore the postern-gate, they turned and walked in 
 the direction of a knoll commanding a view of 
 hill and valley, pine forest and olive slope, and 
 the lazy outline of the distant hills. 
 
 Fleming looked at Anne, and thought he had 
 never seen her so young, so spirited, so tingling 
 with vitality. He felt his own heightened by 
 the companionship. 
 
 " Why is it," Anne was saying, as they reached 
 277
 
 278 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 the foot of the knoll, "that a restoration like this 
 Vincigliata here leaves us cold, where the merest 
 stump of a ruin can give us quite an emotion ? " 
 
 " I fancy," Fleming said, " it is because asso- 
 ciation is a highly volatile essence and must be 
 kept in the original bottle; it escapes in the 
 transfer. And then we Anglo-Saxons begrudge 
 our emotions, anyway. We are willing to part 
 with them for a fair equivalent, but we will not 
 consent to be cheated out of a penny's worth." 
 
 " I understand that feeling perfectly." 
 
 "Naturally. You are an Anglo-Saxon, and 
 cannot escape your inheritance. We all get 
 heartaches from a repression which these Latins 
 never know." 
 
 " I am tired," said Anne. " Shall we sit down 
 here where we get the view ? " 
 
 She threw aside her riding-crop and seated her- 
 self in a little clearing under the shadow of a 
 group of pines. Clasping her knees with her 
 hands, she sat gazing hard in front of her at 
 what ? Fleming wondered as he lounged on the 
 carpet of pine-needles at her feet and looked at the 
 landscape because he did not dare to look at Anne. 
 
 From the distance came the clear flute-call of 
 a nightingale. The sound gave Mrs. Blythe a 
 sense of freedom, it was so strange, so alien, like 
 this silent, austere landscape, which seemed no
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 279 
 
 part of her life. She felt as if she and the man 
 beside her had drifted away from the conventions 
 of every-day existence into a still pool where 
 only heaven was reflected. In such surround- 
 ings much might be ventured. 
 
 Anne gathered a handful of the brown pine- 
 needles and let them slip slowly through her fin- 
 gers. At last she said: 
 
 " Have you seen anything of Mr. Walford 
 lately ? " 
 
 " As much as I cared to see." 
 
 " How much ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all." 
 
 " You don't find him particularly sympathetic, 
 do you ? " 
 
 " No ; our vices are too dissimilar." 
 
 A pause followed. Fleming broke it saying : 
 
 " And you ? Have you seen Mr. Walford 
 often <? " 
 
 " Once or twice only." 
 
 " And that feeling of which you spoke on the 
 night of the musicale has it grown any more 
 tangible*?" 
 
 Anne laughed a nervous little laugh. 
 
 " Oh, I forgot to tell you about that. It died 
 a natural death ; that is, if anything can die which 
 has never existed." 
 
 "Never existed ?"
 
 280 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "No. That 's the curious part of it. I un- 
 derstand it all now how I made up an ideal 
 out of qualities, some of them Mr. Walford's, 
 some of them imaginary, and some of them be- 
 longing to another person entirely. I called 
 them all his, and was ready to fall down before 
 them; but one day the veil fell from the real 
 Mr. Walford, and he did n't fit the ideal at all. 
 It was as if you 'd fallen in love with a picture, 
 and found the original quite different." 
 
 " It must have been a cruel disappointment." 
 
 ** Why, no. Queerly enough, it was n't a dis- 
 appointment, for I found, to my own surprise, 
 that I did n't care that I had never really 
 cared." 
 
 Fleming drew a deep breath of relief. 
 
 " I am more thankful than I can express," he 
 said at length. " You would never have been 
 happy with Walford; but I was desperately 
 afraid you might deceive yourself till it was too 
 late." " 
 
 " Why did you say nothing then *? " 
 
 " I had no right to speak, in the first place, 
 and, besides, I knew that I was not an impartial 
 judge." 
 
 "Mr. Fleming," said Anne, suddenly, "have 
 you a sound mind and a strong character ? " 
 
 " Decidedly not."
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 281 
 
 Mrs. Blythe was secretly disappointed. She 
 had hoped that he would inquire why she asked, 
 and she had her answer ready. As it was, she only 
 observed weakly: 
 
 " Oh, I thought perhaps you had." 
 
 " Nothing of the sort. If I ever flattered my- 
 self with any such delusions, I have been thor- 
 oughly undeceived of late. I knew I ought to 
 leave Florence, and yet I stayed does that 
 look like a sound mind 1 ? I resolved not to 
 take this ride to-day, and here I am is that 
 an evidence of a strong character? I assure 
 you, my will is made of jelly, mush, cream-pie 
 whatever is most a synonym for weakness and 
 instability." 
 
 Mrs. Blythe took up her riding-crop and poked 
 energetically at the ground with it. Fleming 
 watched her procedings idly. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " he asked, smiling. 
 " Digging a grave for Cock-Robin *? " 
 
 " Perhaps," Anne answered absently, " or per- 
 haps I am burying a few scruples." 
 
 " Let me help you ! " exclaimed Fleming, with 
 alacrity. " I have a private graveyard of my 
 own for interments of that sort. My mind is full 
 of such mounds quite humpy with them." 
 
 A long pause, then Mrs. Blythe began in a 
 rather nervous, low-pitched voice :
 
 282 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "Mr. Fleming " 
 
 ' Present." 
 
 ** Were you ever in love ? " 
 
 Fleming had that twin quality of brooding 
 melancholy, a delicately balanced sense of hu- 
 mor. It was struck and set vibrating by Anne's 
 words. He gave her one quick, amused upward 
 glance as he answered : 
 
 " Mrs. Blythe, you embarrass me ! " 
 
 " No doubt ; but were you ? " 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 "Did you ever offer yourself to any one?" 
 
 " You would strip the veil of privacy from the 
 most sacred emotions of the human soul." 
 
 " Very likely ; but did you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 "Must I tell?" 
 
 " I am afraid you must. It 's quite necessary." 
 
 Fleming appeared to be giving his whole at- 
 tention to filling Cock-Robin's grave with pine- 
 needles, while Anne reclasped her hands about 
 her knees and leaned back against a tree-trunk 
 in a listening attitude. 
 
 There was a tenderness of reminiscence in 
 Fleming's voice when he spoke at last. 
 
 " Well, then, as nearly as I can remember, I 
 said, ' Susan, let us build a little house in the
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 283 
 
 garden and go and live in it. I will be the hus- 
 band and fetch bread and butter from my kitchen 
 if you will be the wife and bring jam and cream 
 from yours.' I was seven and she was six, and 
 our gardens adjoined, which was convenient; 
 but I blush to this day to think what a lion's 
 share of the providing I imposed upon poor 
 Susan." 
 
 A smile trembled across Anne's lips. 
 
 " An excellent proposal," she said, " brief and 
 businesslike. Mr. Fleming " 
 
 " What is it, Mrs. Blythe ? " 
 
 "Suppose we build a little house in the gar- 
 den. You might be the husband and I that 
 is, if I were urged " 
 
 Silence, blank silence, broken only by the note 
 of the nightingale in the branches above them. 
 Anne leaned forward till she could see Fleming's 
 face, which had been kept carefully turned away 
 from her. It was white to the lips. If it had 
 been anything but that, she would have sunk 
 through the earth. As it was, she leaned back 
 contentedly and patted the gold chatelaine bag 
 which hung at her belt. 
 
 " Is this a farce or a fairy-story *? " Fleming 
 said at last. His voice sounded hoarse and 
 forced. 
 
 " Neither. It is a plain, straightforward offer
 
 284 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 of marriage. Now I have spoken out like a 
 man, and it is open to you to adopt the woman's 
 role and tell me that, while you entertain senti- 
 ments of the highest respect and esteem for me, 
 you have not that feeling which would justify 
 you in accepting my flattering offer. Go on ! " 
 
 Fleming jumped up and began to pace the 
 walk before her. His whole nature was in re- 
 volt. His feelings and his will were engaged in 
 a life-and-death struggle for the mastery. At last 
 he folded his arms and said, looking fixedly into 
 the distance : 
 
 " Mrs. Blythe, I do not wish to marry you." 
 
 '* That was not what I told you to say ; but 
 perhaps you found my formula too elaborate. It 
 will be enough if you look at me and say, ' Mrs. 
 Blythe, I do not love you.' " 
 
 "Mrs. Blythe " 
 
 " No ; but look at me." 
 
 Fleming turned and looked down at that 
 charming oval face, the arch eyes raised to his, the 
 tremulous lips; then he turned quickly away again. 
 
 " I cannot say it," he said low and unsteadily ; 
 " you know I cannot. Why do you tempt me ? 
 I have fought this battle out with my own heart, 
 and I will not be overcome now betrayed into 
 an act of which I should be ashamed as long as 
 I live. ApageSatana!"
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 285" 
 
 " I am not Satana, and I will not apage," Mrs. 
 Blythe replied with energy. " Neither am I the 
 victim of my own pride, which I make a fetish 
 and call self-respect." 
 
 Fleming leaned over and took the little glove- 
 less hands away from the knees which they had 
 been clasping. One of these hands he kept close 
 in his while he talked, and Anne could feel the 
 throbbing of that strong clasp. 
 
 " Listen, dear," he said. " You don't know 
 what you are asking me to do. It is adorable in 
 you to offer this sacrifice. I shall have it to re- 
 member all the days of my life. But for me to 
 accept it would be another matter. I should feel 
 like a scoundrel robbing a child of a bag of gold 
 pieces. Good God, Anne ! it 's hard enough 
 loving you as I do don't make it harder ! " 
 
 " I am not a child," said Anne, " and I have 
 counted the cost my gold pieces are Dead Sea 
 apples. No, frankly, that 's a lie. I like my 
 money immensely, but I like you better; and 
 since I must choose between you, why " 
 
 Fleming shook his head. 
 
 " Now let us look at the thing calmly," Anne 
 went on, as if she had ever looked at anything 
 calmly since she was born. " You think it would 
 be shabby in you to marry me *? " 
 
 " I know it would."
 
 286 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " And I think it would be shabby in you not 
 to. Perhaps we are neither of us quite impartial 
 judges. Suppose we lay it before the Bishop and 
 agree to accept his decision." 
 
 " To what purpose *? Bishop Alston is a man 
 of the world. I know what his point of view 
 must be. Why should I humiliate myself by 
 giving him reason to think me capable of any 
 other 1 ?" 
 
 " You say my uncle is a man of the world *? " 
 
 " In the best sense of the word, yes." 
 
 " Very good. Now if he sees nothing wrong, 
 nothing to be objected to, in this course, why 
 should you set yourself up to be a better judge 
 than a bishop and a man of the world *? " 
 
 Silence fell again. Fleming's stern jaw set 
 itself more firmly than before. His eyes were 
 inscrutable ; but Anne Blythe had long made it 
 a rule when she could not understand the lan- 
 guage of the eyes to watch the hands. In the 
 relaxing of the clenched fists she read relent- 
 ing. 
 
 "Mr. Fleming " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Blair No, no, that was not a challenge ! 
 There are limits even to my audacity." 
 
 " And to my self-restraint. Let us go home." 
 
 "And ask the Bishop?"
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 287 
 
 " Yes, since you wish to see me so humiliated^ 
 we will ask the Bishop." 
 
 "Ah, now you are charming." 
 
 ** I charming? I am a miserable weakling. 
 But what do you suppose you are in my eyes? 
 How can I ever hope to tell you ? " 
 
 "You might try." 
 
 " Not without danger of repeating my indiscre- 
 tion of a moment ago. Anne, do you think 
 no matter what the Bishop says you might let 
 me kiss you once? Thank you. I shall have 
 that to remember. Come what may hereafter, 
 Anne, I shall have that. Let us go ! " 
 
 Fleming stretched out his hand, and Anne laid 
 hers in his, and so, simply, like two children, they 
 walked down the path together; but when they 
 came in sight of the horses and the groom, the 
 sense of the world and its conventions rushed 
 back upon them, and Anne pulled her hand away, 
 flushing scarlet. 
 
 On their homeward ride, however, oblivious- 
 ness of all the universe fell upon them again. 
 They forgot everything except that they were 
 together. They walked their horses and stopped 
 every once in a while, as if, even at this snail's 
 pace, the ride would be ended too soon. 
 
 Now their road lay through dazzling patches 
 of sunshine, now through a stretch of woods as
 
 288 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 dark and mysterious as that where Dante lost his 
 path midway upon the journey of his life. It was 
 all one to them. 
 
 Anne's state of mind is easy to describe. She 
 was wildly, exultantly happy, like a gambler who 
 had staked his whole fortune on a single cast and 
 won. For her life had neither past nor future ; 
 it was one great absorbing, thrilling now. 
 
 With Fleming it was different. The happi- 
 ness was there, but overlaid with doubts, hesita- 
 tions, questionings, while under all lurked a pos- 
 sible despair. His senses were particularly alert 
 and acute. He could notice every wild flower 
 by the wayside. He could swerve Anne's horse 
 from the pool which the last night's rain had left 
 in the road. And yet nothing seemed real. For 
 him life was all past and future. It was Anne's 
 voice which brought him back to the present. 
 
 " Mr. Fleming, when did you fall in love with 
 me?" 
 
 " You called me Blair once." 
 " That was an experiment." 
 " Could n't you experiment again ? " 
 "Well, then, when did you Blair?" 
 " I could n't tell : for my life I could n't. 
 Somewhere in prehistoric ages, I fancy, when I 
 was a savage crying for the moon." 
 " But in your present incarnation."
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 289 
 
 "I don't know. In looking back, my life 
 seems only a series of impressions of you, with 
 vacant, meaningless spaces between." 
 
 Fleming's horse shied at a rock jutting out 
 from the hillside. When he had mastered it, 
 Mrs". Blythe began once more. 
 
 " I don't intend to letyou offso. We mustget at 
 it by a process of exclusions, I see. You were n't 
 in love with me before my father-in-law died?" 
 
 " N-no, I suppose not. What an idiot I must 
 have been not to be ! " 
 
 "Nor that evening Jin the library when I sent 
 for you there in New York ? " 
 
 " Was n't I ? I 'm not so sure. In fact, I 
 think, if the thing had a beginning, it was then 
 when you leaned forward in the firelight and 
 said how you wanted to be happy. I remember 
 I felt as if it were my own youth pleading with 
 me, and I was conscious of a wild desire that you 
 should be happy, let it cost what it might to any 
 one else ; but if I was in love, I did n't know it 
 not then, or on the steamer when I said good- 
 by ; not even when I came over here with George 
 Newton, though now it 's as clear as day to me 
 that the desire to see you again was at the bottom 
 of all that." 
 
 " Yes ; but when did you know ? " 
 
 " I '11 tell you : it was the night of your musi-
 
 290 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 cale. Walford was there, and he said something 
 to me about you something that I did n't like ; 
 but, curiously enough, instead of making me 
 more than passingly indignant with him, it turned 
 my thoughts inward. It was lik a great globe 
 of light striking me in the eyes, and my head felt 
 queer and my ears rang, and something said, 
 4 You 're in love with her. Don't deny it ! ' " 
 
 " How very strange ! " said Anne, and repeated 
 under her breath, " How very strange ! " 
 
 "Strange'? Not at all; only strange that I 
 should have been blind so long." 
 
 " I did n't mean that. I was thinking that it 
 was a curious thing that it should all have come 
 to me on the same evening, and through Mr. 
 Walford, too. He had brought me a letter 
 one that Renee Jaudon had kept back." 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Fleming. " I know all 
 about that, and Walford had read it." 
 
 '* He had, and I was very angry ; but after- 
 ward, up in my room, I sat down by my window 
 in the moonlight to think it over. I grew calmer, 
 and presently my resentment faded out. * After 
 all,' I thought, * I have no right to be severe 
 toward him. Perhaps any man would have done 
 it.' Then I stopped myself indignantly. * No ; 
 there 's one man who would n't have done it. 
 Blair Fleming would n't.' And then / knew."
 
 XVIII 
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 
 
 " Strange all this difference should be 
 'Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee." 
 
 MRS. BLYTHE and Fleming had returned 
 from their ride, but had not yet changed 
 their costumes. Anne sat in a lounging-chair, 
 and Fleming sat on the coping of the balustrade, 
 tapping the toe of his boot nervously with his 
 riding-whip, and looking at Anne Blythe as he 
 had never dared to look at her before, with his 
 heart in his eyes. 
 
 44 Have you always been as beautiful as you 
 are to-day *? " he asked at length. 
 
 "Always," Anne replied, with pleasing confi- 
 dence ; " only you had not the wit to see it." 
 
 " I think," said Fleming, " it was because I 
 was afraid to look at you long enough to form a 
 lasting impression that I never could bring you 
 up before me when I was away from you. I 
 could hear your voice I have every tone of it 
 by heart ; but when I tried to recall your face it 
 
 291
 
 292 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 was blurred, a mere catalogue of chestnut hair, 
 hazel eyes, and little pointed chin. But if I 
 imagined you speaking, then I could see the 
 smile ripple along your lips and the half closing 
 of your eyelids, as if they were trying to keep 
 the fun in your eyes all to themselves. You 
 should smile always, Anne." 
 
 " It will be your business in life to see that I 
 have cause to do so," Mrs. Blythe answered, flick- 
 ing at the dust on her skirt with her riding-crop. 
 " Ah, here comes my uncle up the little path. 
 He must have dismissed the carriage below there 
 somewhere. Shall we say anything to him this 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 '* By all means.** 
 
 '* Perhaps it would be better to wait" 
 
 "Not an hour. Suspense is worse than cer- 
 tainty. Do you know, Anne, that scene at Vin- 
 cigliata begins already to seem like the one 
 beautiful dream of my life, and now now I 
 am waking and the dream is over." 
 
 Tinkle, tinkle, went the Bishop's ringat the gate. 
 
 "Now, remember," said Fleming, "whatever 
 hig decision may be, we both agree to be bound, 
 by it" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And I am to lay the case before him fairly 
 and squarely ? *
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 293 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 ** And you will not interfere or interrupt until 
 he has spoken ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Don't you think you 'd better go away and 
 let me have it out with him alone ? " . 
 
 "Decidedly, I do not. The matter concerns 
 me as much as it does you, and I should think I 
 might at least be permitted to hear Do you 
 know, it begins to occur to me that you are quite 
 likely to develop a dictatorial turn of mind when 
 we are married *? " 
 
 " Don't say * when '; say * if.* When makes it 
 sound so distractingly possible, and it will be all 
 the harder to give it up in the end. But if you 
 will stay, at least let me move your chair." 
 
 " No, thank you ; I am very comfortable here, 
 where I can see the Duomo and the Bargello 
 and you." 
 
 " Yes ; but I can see you, too." 
 
 " Do I offend your esthetic sense ? " 
 
 "Anne, you are not so much in love as I 
 you don't know anything about it. When I 
 look at you I wish to give myself up to the full 
 luxury of the occasion. When I have business 
 on hand, and somewhat nervous business at that, 
 it distracts me." 
 
 "I will keep my veil down if you like."
 
 ^94 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " That will be of no use. I shall imagine the 
 face behind it, and I shall become hopelessly 
 confused and inconsecutive begin a sentence 
 .sensibly and end with a foolishness." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 *' Yes, I shall I shall say : * My dear Bishop, 
 why do you wear those bewildering little curls 
 in front of your ears, and where did you get that 
 curve to your cheek-line *? ' Then your Right 
 Reverend uncle will take me for a lunatic, and 
 very properly refuse to allow his niece to bestow 
 a second thought upon me. For pity's sake, go ! 
 Here comes the Bishop." 
 
 Fleming's arguments had been singularly ill 
 .adapted to produce the effect which he professed 
 to desire. Had he suggested that Anne's hair 
 was coming down or that the light was trying, 
 he might have accomplished something. As it 
 was, Mrs. Blythe only well, she did not move 
 any farther away. 
 
 " Did you enjoy Santa Croce, Uncle Law- 
 rence *? " she said as the Bishop entered, looking 
 rather winded, and dropping heavily into a rush 
 chair near the balustrade. 
 
 " Not at all," was the Bishop's answer. Clearly 
 his mood was not propitious. 
 
 " I am so sorry you were disappointed ! " 
 
 (She was uncommonly sorry.)
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 295 
 
 " Thank you, my dear." 
 
 " What was the trouble was the light poor? " 
 
 "The light was good enough, but I did not 
 stay long. The fact is, I met Mr. Walford, and 
 he and I talked for some time. After that I 
 found myself not in the humor for sight-seeing; 
 so I only looked at one or two of the frescos, and 
 came home. I shall try again some other day 
 in the morning, perhaps." 
 
 " So you saw Mr. Walford. Did he inquire 
 for me ? " 
 
 "No; that is, yes. He sent his compliments 
 and the message that he was leaving for Geneva 
 in a day or two, but should hope to see you 
 when he came back, as he expects to sail from 
 Naples. I had begun to think, Anne, that he 
 was an admirer of yours." 
 
 Fleming saw his chance. 
 
 " I am entirely of your opinion, Bishop," he 
 said. " I think that Mr. Walford not only was, 
 but w, an admirer of Mrs. Blythe's. Indeed, she 
 and I have been talking about him this after- 
 noon." 
 
 " Have you ? " said the Bishop. " Anne, my 
 dear, you might order the tea. I dismissed the 
 carriage and took the short cut up the hill, and I 
 find myself rather tired by the climb. I am not 
 so young as I once was."
 
 296 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Very well, uncle," Anne responded ; but she 
 did not give the order. Her eyes were fixed 
 anxiously on Fleming, who went on : " Yes, 
 we were talking of Walford, and in that con- 
 nection of marriage. The truth is that, although 
 our conversation was personal and confidential, 
 I obtained Mrs. Blythe's consent to lay it before 
 you, and she, on her part, agreed to consider her- 
 self bound by your decision." 
 
 " Ah ! " The Bishop turned sharply that he 
 might face Fleming. He crossed his knees and 
 thrust one hand between them, as was his habit 
 when listening intently. 
 
 "As our talk turned somewhat on legal and 
 business matters," Fleming said, "I asked Mrs. 
 Blythe to let me state the case without inter- 
 ruption from her, she being, as you know, not 
 wholly free from impulsiveness." 
 
 *' I should say not ! " the Bishop observed with 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Precisely. I see you understand your niece's 
 character perfectly, and realize how possible it 
 would be for her to be led under impulse into 
 doing something which she might greatly regret 
 afterward." 
 
 " I can imagine such a possibility." 
 
 " Very well ; then let me put to you a hypo- 
 thetical case. Let us suppose a man situated
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 297 
 
 somewhat as Mr. Walford is, in love with a 
 woman whose situation is like that of Mrs. 
 Blythe, and suppose her to reciprocate his senti- 
 ments." 
 
 The Bishop glanced swiftly at Anne. 
 
 She was blushing, and blushing was rare with 
 her. It meant a great deal. Her uncle felt his 
 heart sink. " And I was so fond of her ! " was 
 the thought that flashed through his mind. 
 
 "Go on, Mr. Fleming; I am listening," was 
 what he said aloud. 
 
 " Pardon me if I find it hard, after all, to put 
 my question all at once. It involves so many 
 things that we have been discussing. The first 
 is this : Is it your opinion that Mrs. Blythe could 
 be happy on the modest competence which 
 would remain to her, by the terms of Mr. 
 Blythe's will, if she entered into this alliance ? 
 Could she, that is, give up millions for thousands 
 without a reaction of regret in the years to 
 come?" 
 
 The Bishop saw breakers ahead. He rose and 
 took a turn up and down the terrace. When he 
 came back to where the other two were sitting, he 
 wore a troubled look. 
 
 " I must answer candidly, Fleming ; and 
 Anne, my dear, I am speaking to you. too: I 
 never saw a woman so dependent on money as
 
 298 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 you. I cannot imagine you happy living in a 
 small way." 
 
 "But, uncle " 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear Mrs. Blythe," Fleming's 
 voice broke in, "but you must not forget that 
 you agreed to be represented by counsel, and 
 under the circumstances you cannot be heard by 
 the court in person. The Bishop has delivered 
 his first decision, and no matter against whom it 
 scores, no exceptions must be taken. Now let 
 us go on. Would you say, Bishop, of course 
 you understand that this talk is wholly confiden- 
 tial, and frankness is essential, would you say 
 that for a man in Mr. Walford's circumstances 
 financially to offer himself to Mrs. Blythe, 
 placed as she is, was honorable or even 
 honest?" 
 
 The Bishop paused a long while. At length 
 he said : 
 
 " I look upon honesty as a high dilution of 
 honor. I could not conscientiously say that I 
 should regard it as any breach of honesty for a 
 man like Walford to ask my niece to marry him ; 
 but for a man of sensitive honor, a man like you, 
 Fleming, I should say it would be difficult to 
 bring himself to do it. It must necessarily lay 
 him open to a great deal of unpleasant criticism, 
 and, to say the least, he must have an excellent
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 299 
 
 opinion of himself to regard his society as an 
 offset to all that he asks her to relinquish." 
 
 " I have the honor to agree with you entirely, 
 Bishop. Mrs. Blythe, I think that your uncle 
 has answered all the points submitted." 
 
 Fleming's lips wore a smile, but his face was 
 ashen gray. The look of youth was gone out 
 of it. He quietly unpinned the rose from the 
 buttonhole of his coat and let it slip to the pave- 
 ment. Then he sat looking down at it. 
 
 Anne Blythe dropped her riding-crop. With 
 two strides she reached the Bishop's chair. She 
 sank down on the low stool beside it, and lean- 
 ing her head against the arm, she began to cry ; 
 not with the artistic, crystalline tears of Eunice 
 Yates, but with genuine sobs which burst the 
 pinning of her white stock and shook her hat 
 awry. 
 
 " Oh, don't you see how you 've mixed up 
 everything ! " she said at last, between her sobs. 
 " I said I would agree to be bound by your de- 
 cision, because I thought I could trust you. I 
 never believed for a moment you 'd take that 
 view of it, and you Ve always liked him so 
 much ! " 
 
 " No, Anne ; there you are grievously mis- 
 taken. From the first moment I saw Stuart 
 Walford here in Florence I distrusted him."
 
 300 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " But it was n't Mr. Walford he was talking 
 about. It was himself Blair Fleming. And he 
 did n't ask me to marry him I asked him to 
 marry me; and at first he would n't hear of it at 
 all, and at last he agreed to leave it to you ; but 
 he said you 'd say just this sort of thing about it. 
 I agreed to it, too, because I thought I knew 
 you; but now you 're so different I take back 
 my promise. You can do that, Mr. Fleming, 
 even in law ; you can, if nothing has been done 
 about it. Now I do not agree to abide by my 
 uncle's decision. It was absurd to think of leav- 
 ing such a thing to him to decide, anyway, after 
 you and I had decided it once for all over there 
 on the hillside at Vincigliata." 
 
 Bishop Alston was slowly recovering from his 
 bewilderment while Anne Blythe's tirade was in 
 progress. He laid a calming hand on her trem- 
 bling ones ; but he turned to Fleming with grave 
 and disapproving eyes. 
 
 " This is not what I should have looked for 
 from you, Mr. Fleming," he said. " It is not 
 not ingenuous." 
 
 Fleming crossed the terrace and seized the 
 Bishop's hand with a grip which made the 
 prelate wince. 
 
 " Forgive me ! " he exclaimed, with a stress of 
 compelling emotion in his voice. " I meant no
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 301 
 
 disrespect, and I had no intention of trapping 
 you in an ambush. I wished only to get your 
 unbiassed opinion, given so clearly that there was 
 no mistaking it as it has been. I knew that 
 you were a good friend of mine, and that drag- 
 ging my personality into the situation would 
 embarrass and pain you, while it would not affect 
 the question at issue." 
 
 " But it does affect the question at issue. In 
 fact, it changes the question altogether." The 
 Bishop spoke with an amount of irritation quite 
 foreign to his character; but in Anne Blythe's 
 eyes he had never appeared so altogether lovely. 
 She gave an affectionate squeeze to the hand laid 
 on hers. 
 
 " If you please, my dear ! " said her uncle, 
 withdrawing it hastily. " Mr. Fleming has just 
 disabled one of my hands, and I prefer to keep 
 one, at least, with which to write an essay on 
 4 The Inscrutable Folly of Lovers.' As for you, 
 Fleming, up to this time I had mistaken you for 
 a sensible man, you have all the earmarks of 
 one, but to-day you are behaving like a fool." 
 
 " Very likely," said Fleming, with dreary ac- 
 quiescence in his tone ; " but it does n't matter 
 much, does it, to any one but myself? " 
 
 " I should say it mattered a good deal to Anne 
 whether her husband were a fool or not."
 
 302 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Then let us hope that she may meet with 
 one of those rare beings on whom the gods have 
 bestowed both brains and money." 
 
 " I don't know that rich fools are any more com- 
 mon than poor ones,"said the Bishop, more blandly, 
 as he felt his grasp strengthen on the situation. 
 " However, it was not of fools in general, but of 
 one in particular, that we were talking to be 
 exact, of you, Mr. Fleming. You wish to marry 
 my niece, and you very properly lay the matter 
 before me as her guardian in loco parentis, as it 
 were. Now, why could n't you do it like a 
 man, over your own name, instead of hiding be- 
 hind the back of another ? " 
 
 "All this talk is idle, Bishop," Fleming an- 
 swered wearily. " I admit I was a fool in dream- 
 ing of marrying Mrs. Blythe, not in loving her, 
 I shall always be proud of that ; but in not 
 being content to love her without return. To 
 ask for that return was, as you said just now, 
 unworthy of ' a man of sensitive honor.' * 
 
 The Bishop did not answer at once. He rose 
 and paced the terrace, his hands locked behind 
 him, and his head bent as if he were studying the 
 crevices between the bricks. At last he came up 
 behind Anne, and taking her head between his 
 hands, he turned it up and kissed her forehead. 
 
 " It occurs to me, Fleming," he said, " that in
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 303 
 
 all our discussion we are making very little ac- 
 count of one thing, the will of a wilful woman, 
 which is strong enough to dominate all the logic 
 of man. I scorn to take refuge behind the fact 
 that it was my niece who made the proposal of 
 marriage, for I know her well enough to be sure 
 that she would never have spoken with her lips 
 if you had not first spoken with your eyes and 
 your manner. Is n't that so ? " 
 
 "Of course it is: I plead guilty; but Heaven, 
 knows I tried my best not to betray myself. I 
 believe, except for these last few days, I could 
 have carried it through." 
 
 " That would have been a fine manly thing to 
 do ! " Anne exclaimed scornfully. " I 've known 
 many a man who would n't risk a refusal from 
 the woman he was in love with ; but you 're the 
 only one I ever saw who was afraid of an 
 acceptance." 
 
 "Anne," expostulated her uncle, "will you let 
 me finish ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; go on ! I apologize." 
 
 " Very well, then ; I wish both you and Mr. 
 Fleming to follow my state of mind, to listen to- 
 my retraction. I came away from Santa Croce 
 this afternoon thoroughly out of tune with Stuart 
 Walford. There was a time when I had high 
 hopes of him ; but I put him to a test, and he
 
 304 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 failed to meet it. He may be probably is 
 as good as other men still, but the canker is eat- 
 ing his soul. Well, I had been pondering on all 
 this on my way up the hill, and thinking how, of 
 all the men I had ever known, he was the last 
 whom I should choose to be Anne's husband, 
 when you sprang your trap on me, and I fell 
 into it thoroughly, completely, without a crack 
 or a crevice to escape by. As you sat there I 
 felt a sense of impotent wrath at your superiority, 
 and at Anne for not recognizing it. My feeling 
 colored every word I said. 
 
 " I cannot take back all of it even now. I do 
 think Anne will have a hard time to accustom 
 herself, not so much to economies as to the with- 
 drawal of that distinction which great wealth 
 gives. She is a vain creature, is Anne. With a 
 man like Walford her vanity would have grown 
 daily by contact with his ; but with you her 
 vanity will be swallowed up in your pride." 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Anne, "and pride is a 
 much worse vice than vanity ; for when you 're 
 vain, like me, you wish every one to love and 
 admire you, and so you try to be pleasant ; but 
 when you 're proud, like you, Mr. Fleming, you 
 just don't care what any one else thinks or how 
 any one else feels, so long as you preserve that 
 precious self-respect of yours."
 
 WHAT THE BISHOP SAID 305 
 
 "Anne, my dear, this is another digression," 
 said the Bishop, with authority in his voice. 
 " Let me finish what I was saying to Mr. Flem- 
 ing. I wish to apologize for the haste and the 
 unworthy motives with which I spoke. I wish 
 him to understand fully that I withdraw from the 
 position that I then took, and I make no effort 
 to preserve my consistency." 
 
 " Uncle, you are a saint. You belong over 
 the altar in one of the cathedrals. It is for us to 
 go down on our knees before you. But let us 
 begin all over again ! I was wrong myself, first 
 of all, in promising not to interrupt ; secondly, I 
 was wrong in keeping my promise ; finally, I was 
 wrong not to put a stop to the whole argument 
 by announcing that I was determined to marry 
 Blair Fleming whether he consented or not, and 
 no matter what any one else thought about it. 
 T'here ! That 's my confession ! " 
 
 "And mine is this," said Fleming, tracing a 
 name on the pavement with his stick : " I am in 
 love, fathoms deep in love, and I have no strength 
 to resist. Only I know that I was right to fight 
 against it, and I know that the Bishop's first 
 decision was just, and I ought to abide by it." 
 
 " Now that is a paltry assertion of your pride," 
 Anne broke in, "and not a confession at all. 
 Besides, you agreed to be bound by my uncle's
 
 306 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 final decision, and a man cannot take back his 
 word. That is a woman's privilege." 
 
 " Yes, Fleming," said the Bishop, smiling and 
 holding out his hand, having taken the precau- 
 tion to turn his ring, " you must accept the inevi- 
 table, and the inevitable in this case is Anne. 
 God bless you both ! And now, for pity's sake, 
 give me some tea."
 
 XIX 
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 
 
 " He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver ; nor he that loveth 
 abundance with increase : this is also vanity." 
 
 P 'TT 7HY do you invite Tom Yates to-night ?' r 
 V V the Bishop asked, looking up from his 
 Procopius, and added : " He does not belong 
 with this set of people at all." 
 
 " I have two reasons for asking him," Mrs. 
 Blythe answered. "I can't insult any one else 
 with so late an invitation, and, besides, I want 
 Eunice to know that he was here. She is so- 
 patronizing and superior." 
 
 " But she is really superior to her brother." 
 
 "All the more intolerable in her to make it so 
 oppressive. Tom is much better than she, except 
 on the surface. Besides, the note has gone." 
 
 " Then how easy for you to have assented to 
 my opinion ! " the Bishop commented. 
 
 Anne laughed. They understood each other 
 these two in spite of blood-relationship. 
 
 307
 
 308 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Mr. Thomas Yates had an excellent opinion 
 of himself, and as it was founded on thirty-five 
 years of intimate acquaintance, it was certainly 
 entitled to some consideration; yet there were 
 intervals when his confidence waned and when 
 he found that a familiar environment was needed 
 to support his judgment. 
 
 On 'Change he was easily a leader, and experi- 
 enced the exhilaration of his position ; but here, 
 in this quiet corner of the Old World, he felt 
 bewildered and depressed by a sense of inade- 
 quacy to things which he looked down upon, 
 and yet could not comprehend. The " Girlan- 
 dagoes" and "Jottos" and things that people 
 over here pretended to find so interesting irritated 
 and piqued him in spite of himself, like a blind 
 pool which he had not been invited to enter, and 
 where all sorts of interesting things might be go- 
 ing on, if he could only discover the secret. 
 
 The Bishop and Fleming also added uncon- 
 sciously to Yates's irritation. It was not that 
 they underestimated him, but that he saw them 
 measuring him by unaccustomed standards, and 
 ignoring the field where his superiority lay. He 
 longed to let them know what men thought of 
 him in Broad Street, and what his powers were 
 relatively to theirs in the real things of life. To 
 Yates the real things of life were those which
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 309 
 
 could be brought to the practical test of the open 
 market. There was no reality, for instance, in 
 the bars of moonlight which lay athwart the road 
 leading up the Fiesole slope, on this evening 
 when he was driving to Mrs. Blythe's dinner. 
 There was no reality in the Campanile rising 
 above Florence like the stamen of a lily; still less 
 in the associations which clung about every foot 
 of this upward way, delicate as the springtime 
 scent of the grape-vine. For him they simply 
 did not exist. His mind was not empty ; but it 
 had room for only two thoughts, two emotions 
 the love of money and the love of Anne Blythe. 
 
 As these did not conflict, neither crowded out 
 the other. Rather, they seemed to intensify each 
 other. Anne's refusal of the other day had de- 
 pressed him at the time ; but, as he thought it 
 over, he concluded that it need not be considered 
 final. He took it to mean simply that she was 
 not ready to show her hand. He admired her 
 the more for it. 
 
 He also regretted the precipitancy with which 
 he had declined her offer of a loan. Yesterday 
 he had received a letter from his partner in New 
 York, stating that the firm had an opportunity 
 of joining a syndicate composed of the chief 
 financiers of the city in an underwriting scheme, 
 which, if they could engineer it, would put them
 
 310 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 in the front rank of the Street. This would in- 
 volve an investment of four or five hundred 
 thousand more than they had at their command. 
 Could Yates make any arrangements on the 
 other side *? If so, profits were a sure thing, and 
 the opening for the future might lead almost 
 anywhere. 
 
 The letter called for an answer by cable, and 
 Yates had made up his mind to reopen the sub- 
 ject with Anne when he received a note asking 
 him to come to dinner that evening with the 
 Hawtree Campbells, who were leaving Florence 
 -suddenly. He was not deceived by the "sud- 
 denly," and realized that he was probably an 
 <eleventh-hour substitute. Moreover, it did not 
 suit his plans ; but he was a man accustomed to 
 grasping the skirts of unhappy as well as happy 
 chance, and not letting go even if the gathers 
 ripped. He was determined to make, if he 
 could not find, an opportunity for speaking alone 
 with Mrs. Blythe. With this in mind, he had 
 intended to be the earliest guest, and he was dis- 
 mayed, as he crossed the marble hall, to see 
 Fleming's tall figure passing through the velvet 
 curtains of the salon. 
 
 Luck was certainly against him, for though 
 Mrs. Blythe greeted him graciously, she at once 
 turned him over to the Bishop, and the Bishop
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 311 
 
 was in a talkative mood. Having filled his urn 
 with erudition, he found it heavy and wished to 
 pour it out on the first comer. 
 
 " I have been reading Procopius lately," he 
 began before they were fairly seated. " A chance 
 reference of his to Fiesole set me to studying its 
 history with some assiduity, and every day shows 
 me more and more how many secrets are held in 
 the hand of this old nurse of Florence." 
 
 "No doubt," echoed Yates, indifferently, 
 watching meanwhile the turn of Anne's shoulder 
 against the velvet curtains. 
 
 " Yes," the Bishop went on. " Her secrets run 
 back beyond the dawn of European civilization. 
 I should think for a scholar there would be an 
 immense fascination in the effort to decipher the 
 Etruscan language." 
 
 "I 'da deal rather know Spanish," Yates an- 
 nounced. " What with South America and 
 Cuba and Manila and Porto Rico, every Ameri- 
 can business man has got to have some acquain- 
 tance with Spanish ; and why should he want to 
 give up his life to learning a dialect that 's only 
 spoken in a little place like this *? " 
 
 " Etruscan," said the Bishop, leniently, " is not 
 spoken anywhere. It is not even read or under- 
 stood. It is the deadest kind of a dead lan- 
 guage."
 
 312 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Then none of it for me," Yates responded 
 with some defiance in his tone. " I hate a dead 
 language. I like things that are alive and up to 
 date. No, sir; for my part, I 'd rather do some- 
 thing big to-day, and let the thirtieth-century boy 
 read about it, and astonish the school by quoting 
 the things I used to say." 
 
 The Bishop blandly repressed a smile, and ob- 
 served that it certainly would be interesting to be 
 a great man in any age. 
 
 " Surely," said Yates. " I 'd like to have been 
 a David or Solomon, or some of those old kings 
 of Israel." Then with a sudden recollection of 
 the frailties of these heroes, he added : " Of course 
 I should not wish to bow the knee to Balaam as 
 they did." 
 
 This struck Yates as a happy quotation, espe- 
 cially in view of his company. 
 
 The Bishop's eye twinkled, but his voice was 
 grave as he answered : 
 
 " Perhaps if you did, Balaam would get on 
 better. But I must not monopolize you. There 
 is one of Lady Campbell's daughters in the cor- 
 ner. Let us go to her." 
 
 Before he could shake himself free, Yates was 
 literally cornered by the plain young lady in 
 yellow, and could console himself only by the ex- 
 cellent view of Anne which his position gave
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 313 
 
 him. " She is not really handsome," he declared ; 
 *' it is only the way she carries her head and her 
 general air of owning the room and the com- 
 pany." 
 
 Yates was right. Anne's manner was labeled 
 bors concours, like the pictures in the exhibitions, 
 and signified that it was his own merits rather 
 than hers which were being decided by her 
 neighbor's estimate. 
 
 Manners are acquired, and therefore are much 
 the same in the same grade of society the world 
 over. Manner, on the contrary, is individual, 
 the unconscious expression of the personality. 
 One learns much from it if one observes carefully. 
 
 When dinner was announced, Yates saw his 
 star brightening as he took his place on one side 
 of his hostess. To be sure, it had not fallen to 
 him to take her in ; but that he could not expect 
 when there were two English lords and an Italian 
 Personage present. He could not know by in- 
 tuition that Anne would not trust him too far 
 away from her controlling hand. 
 
 Yates was a true republican and valued self- 
 made money above inherited rank; yet he re- 
 alized that noblesse must be obliged, and, to tell the 
 truth, felt somewhat honored by sitting next but 
 one to a Personage. He would have liked to 
 join in the conversation, but being quite at sea
 
 314 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 as to how an Italian dignitary of that altitude 
 should he addressed, he was obliged to turn his 
 attention to the young lady on his other side. 
 
 Now and then Mrs. Blythe had a word or a 
 smile for him ; but they always seemed to make 
 a closure rather than an opening of conversation. 
 The Personage, on the other side, undoubtedly 
 received more than his share of his hostess's 
 attention, and repaid it with a marked devotion. 
 
 Yates's courage sank, and he found himself 
 compelled to admit that Anne would fit well in 
 a palace. 
 
 In his discouragement he turned with a mis- 
 leading air of interest to his neighbor, a little 
 American girl in pink. 
 
 " You have just come from Rome ? " 
 
 " Yes ; we have been there all winter. I love 
 Rome, there 's so much going on. It 's like a 
 three-ring circus. You want to watch everything 
 at once, and you can't." 
 
 " Lots of malaria there this spring, is n't there *? " 
 
 " No, I think not ; that is, not in the high parts 
 of the city; and if one is prudent but we 
 knew of a sad case, a man who sat next to me 
 I always talk to people at table d'hote ; do you ? " 
 
 " Yes, except to English people : they are so 
 patronizing; and the French and Germans and 
 Italians I can't understand."
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 315 
 
 *' Well, my friend was an American. All his 
 life he 'd been crazy to see Rome ; but he never 
 could go because he was so prosperous." 
 
 ** How American ! " exclaimed Mrs. Blythe. 
 
 "Yes, was n't it? But last winter his health 
 broke down, and the doctor ordered him abroad. 
 His wife could n't leave the baby, so he came 
 alone." 
 
 The little pink lady was growing as flushed as 
 her gown in the excitement of her narrative, when, 
 to her mortification, she discovered that Yates's 
 eyes were fixed on the bread he was crumbling 
 and that his attention was wandering. Anne 
 perceived it at the same moment, and having a 
 gift for keeping all the threads of conversation in 
 her hands, she now leaned forward with a quick 
 look of interest which should have abashed Yates. 
 
 " Do go on ! " she exclaimed. " I should love 
 to hear how Europe looks to a middle-aged 
 American who sees it for the first time. Was 
 your friend in raptures ? " 
 
 " Not he ! " the pink lady responded with re- 
 newed animation. " He was the most homesick 
 man you ever saw. He shut himself up and 
 looked at his family photographs all day, and at 
 night he could n't sleep, so he used to get up 
 and go to the Colosseum " 
 . *' Cb' era pazzo ! " murmured the Personage.
 
 316 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "And what came of it?" inquired Mrs. 
 Blythe, as if her life hung on knowing. 
 
 " Oh, it ended as you would suppose. He 
 took the fever, and the doctor had given up hope 
 when we left." 
 
 Mrs. Blythe sighed, and moved her salt-cellar. 
 
 " Poor man ! He should have consulted Mr. 
 Yates before he left home. He would have been 
 told that there is nothing outside of America 
 worth seeing." 
 
 Before Yates could protest, Anne's head was 
 turned, and her conversation with the Personage 
 was in full career. 
 
 "It always seemed to me," she said, "that 
 sacrifices little sacrifices, I mean would be 
 easier in Rome than anywhere else. Where 
 people have been crucified head-downward, it 
 seems to make less difference, don't you know, 
 what clothes we wear or whether people call 
 on us." 
 
 " I trust," said the Personage, bending forward 
 and dropping his voice, " that you will not think 
 of sacrifices in connection with my city. To me 
 it might be the most beautiful spot in the world 
 if" 
 
 Here his voice dropped still lower, so that 
 Yates lost the connection. Meanwhile his other 
 neighbor, vexed by his indifference, had turned
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 317 
 
 away, and Yates had only the coldest of cold 
 shoulders. He was not put out by that. On 
 the contrary, he contented himself with worrying 
 his bread with one hand and wringing the neck 
 of his wine-glass with the other, while he looked 
 up and down the length of the table. 
 
 Fleming was talking with Lady Campbell, 
 and scraps of their talk floated across to Yates. 
 They had evidently been discussing national 
 types of beauty, and Fleming, with praiseworthy 
 tact, had been enlarging on the charming repose 
 of the English. 
 
 " Repose," echoed Lady Campbell. " Yes, I 
 grant you that, but repose may be carried too 
 far. Our looks may win in a siege, but they do 
 not carry by storm, as your American type does. 
 Now there is Mrs. Blythe." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Blythe" 
 
 44 Yes, I know what you are going to say 
 that she is not a beauty at all. Perhaps not ; but 
 you should have seen her at the court ball in 
 Rome last January. The Romans were off their 
 heads about her." 
 
 " I am not surprised ; her type is so unlike 
 anything to which they are accustomed." 
 
 ** Yes ; she will make a sensation if she ever 
 goes to Rome to live, and it begins to look as if 
 it were quite on the cards of fate." As she spoke
 
 3 i 8 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Lady Campbell glanced meaningly toward the 
 end of the table where the Personage was lean- 
 ing forward with eyes intent on Mrs. Blythe. 
 Then she looked quickly at Fleming, and said 
 with a little laugh : " Why don't you pre- 
 vent it?" 
 
 " I never play against fate," Fleming replied 
 calmly. " The dice are loaded, you know." 
 
 "Still " mused Lady Campbell. 
 
 "Yes, still " assented Fleming. 
 
 " A man may throw away his chance by being 
 too distrustful of himself." 
 
 " Small danger of that for most of us," Flem- 
 ing responded. " It has often struck me as cu- 
 rious that there never was a man who wished the 
 woman whom he loved to marry a man unworthy 
 of her ; there never was a man who thought him- 
 self worthy, and yet there never was one who 
 did not wish to marry her. Is n't it inconsistent 
 of us?" 
 
 Lady Campbell looked rather bewildered. She 
 never knew how to take Mr. Fleming, much as 
 she liked him. 
 
 A few moments later Mrs. Blythe gave the 
 rising signal. 
 
 Yates moved toward the portiere and held it 
 back for the ladies. As Mrs. Blythe passed him 
 he leaned forward and said in a low tone :
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 319 
 
 " May I see you alone for a few moments ? " 
 
 " Is it necessary ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Can't it wait?" 
 
 " I 'm afraid not. The cable office closes " 
 
 " Then go to the white-and-gold room at the 
 end of the hall, and I will come when I have 
 settled these people in the drawing-room." 
 
 Yates followed her and strode along the hall 
 to the reception-room, where he stood nervously 
 turning over photographs on the onyx table and 
 wondering if Anne would never come. At last 
 he heard three or four heavy chords on the piano, 
 then a light, quick step on the marble floor, and 
 Anne stood in the doorway. 
 
 " I can give you just five minutes," she said, 
 with a glance at the clock on the mantel. 
 
 " I must be quick, then," said Yates, trying to 
 force a smile. " It 's about about that loan 
 you offered me the other day, Anne." 
 
 "Yes, yes; and you have thought better of 
 your refusal, like a sensible man. Tell me for 
 what amount I shall draw a check, and you will 
 get it to-morrow morning, and then you will 
 promise me not to go to Monte Carlo again, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 " It 's no question of Monte Carlo, Anne, and 
 it 's no gambling debt, as you seem determined
 
 320 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 to believe. It is not a loan so much as an invest- 
 ment. If I had an hour, instead of five minutes, 
 I could explain it all; but as it is, I must ask 
 you to take my word for it that it 's all right and 
 that you shall be secured. All I ask to-night is 
 your consent, and the money need n't be depos- 
 ited until I 've had time to explain ; but it 's a 
 thundering big sum." 
 
 " How much ? " 
 
 " Half a million dollars." 
 
 Anne walked to the window and stood look- 
 ing out into the night. 
 
 " I was afraid you 'd take it that way," said 
 Yates, following her. " I knew it was too much 
 to ask." 
 
 " No, Tom, it is n't that. You don't under- 
 stand. I can't pretend to lend you the money, 
 for it's all going to be yours when when I 
 marry. It will atone, won't it ? " 
 
 " Good God, Anne, you don't mean it ! " 
 
 Anne bowed her head. Her cheeks were 
 scarlet. 
 
 " It 's the Italian, of course." 
 
 " It is Mr. Blair Fleming. You '11 wish me 
 good luck, won't you, Tom, and we '11 be cousins 
 and good friends still*? " 
 
 Yates stood staring at her blankly. 
 
 Mrs. Blythe grew impatient.
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 321 
 
 " Come, Tom," she exclaimed, " the music has 
 stopped, and I must go back ; but before I go, I 
 insist on your shaking hands with me." 
 
 She came forward with a sweet impetuousness, 
 holding out both hands. He took them, and 
 stooping, kissed them again and again and again. 
 Then he dropped them and looked stonily after 
 her as she passed out at the door. 
 
 After Anne had left him, Yates stood for a 
 time silent and stunned, his face pale, his lips 
 twitching. Then he made his way down the hall 
 with no attempt at a farewell to the party in the 
 drawing-room, took his hat from the hands of a 
 servant at the door, and flung himself into the 
 waiting carriage. The plunge into the silence 
 and darkness without was grateful to his senses. 
 He wished vaguely that the drive could last for- 
 ever. He folded his arms and stared into the 
 dim distance, yet do what he would, he could see 
 nothing but Anne Blythe's face radiant and ap- 
 pealing. 
 
 He was aware of a swelling of the veins in his 
 neck, of a dull throbbing in his head, of a load 
 on his chest ; then like a drowning man he saw 
 the panorama of his life stretched out before him ; 
 but instead of the past, it was the future which 
 rose and mocked him. With such a start and 
 his financial ability, his career was assured: his
 
 322 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 name would travel wherever the wires flashed the 
 news of stocks and bonds ; but Anne would not 
 care. He would have a yacht; but she would 
 not walk its decks. He would give fine dinners ; 
 but she would never sit at the head of his table. 
 He would reckon his fortune in seven or eight 
 figures ; but what of it ? He felt that he would 
 give it all for one kiss. Never ! From now on 
 Anne was dead to him ! He began to think of 
 her as one thinks of the dead, calling up each 
 attitude, each trick of gesture and speech. 
 
 She had been by no means the only woman in 
 his life ; but it must be counted to him for right- 
 eousness that he saw the difference, that he had 
 given his coarse, blundering heart to the best he 
 had ever known. 
 
 Anne's face still haunted him. If it were to 
 follow him like this wherever he went, he should 
 go mad. How should he get rid of this load at 
 his heart, with that face before him ? He resolved 
 to think of other things the fortune. Ah, there 
 was something solid and tangible ! He would 
 think of that. The Blythe millions his money, 
 power, everything he used to dream of within 
 reach, in his very grasp. He should be a fool to 
 let a woman spoil his life. If only he could for- 
 get the smile playing round Anne's lips on that 
 day of their walk together when she stretched out
 
 HIS HEART'S DESIRE 323 
 
 both hands to him and said : " Now we are 
 friends!" 
 
 There was a band ot iron about his head, and 
 red globules danced before his eyes. He resolved 
 that he would have absinthe when he reached the 
 hotel. Absinthe could make a man forget such 
 things ; and then there were the Blythe millions. 
 But Anne 
 
 " To hell with the Blythe millions ! "
 
 XX 
 
 THE MOVING FINGER 
 
 " The moving finger writes, and having writ 
 Moves on ; nor all your piety nor wit 
 
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, 
 Nor all your tears wash out a word of it. ' ' 
 
 A 5 the first rays of sunrise touched the gild* 
 ing on the iron gate of the Villa Piace- 
 vole, a swiftly driven carriage stopped before 
 the gate, and a messenger pulled at the bell 
 with a haste and vigor which brought heads to 
 all the windows. 
 
 " What 's wanted ? " Fleming's voice called 
 out, while Giulio was still fumbling with locks 
 and bolts. 
 
 " Some one is ill at the Grand Hotel," answered 
 a voice from without. " We found a card in his 
 pocket. Is Bishop Alston here ? " 
 
 " Wait ; I '11 come down in a moment," the 
 Bishop responded, and lights began to glimmer 
 along the hallway and on the staircase. All the 
 household gathered at the door, the Bishop and 
 
 3 2 4
 
 THE MOVING FINGER 325 
 
 Fleming hastily buttoning their coats, and Anne 
 in her wrapper of soft white wool. 
 
 The messenger's story was soon told. Yates, 
 on his return to the hotel, had sat drinking 
 absinthe in the smoking-room till he had sud- 
 denly fallen on the floor in what they thought at 
 first was a drunken stupor; but the cut on his 
 head had made them think of summoning a 
 physician. The doctor, after feeling the pulse 
 and looking at the pupils of the eyes, had shaken 
 his head and asked if the man had friends in 
 Florence. They had carried Yates to his room 
 and searched his clothing, with the result of 
 finding the Bishop's card, and at the glimmer of 
 dawn they had sent the messenger. He had 
 orders to bring back in the carriage any one who 
 wished it. 
 
 " I will come, of course," the Bishop said, 
 stepping back into the hall and reappearing with 
 his hat and overcoat. 
 
 " I will be with you in a minute," Flemingadded. 
 
 " And I shall go, too," said Anne. 
 
 " On the contrary," Fleming said, ** you will go 
 into the house, put on warmer clothing, and let 
 Giulio bring you hot coffee at once." 
 
 " I said, I think, that I should go with you," 
 Anne protested, with heightened color. 
 
 " But you will not."
 
 326 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because your common sense won't let you. 
 It tells you that you could do no possible good 
 and might do a great deal of harm, to say nothing 
 of the risk to yourself in this chilly morning air. 
 Remember," he said lower : 
 
 " 'If I be dear to some one else, 
 
 Then I should be to myself more dear.' 
 
 You will stay here " 
 
 " Yes, I will stay." 
 
 " Thank you, and pardon me if I spoke per- 
 emptorily. We 're apt to when we care so 
 much. I shall come back at once, and if there 
 is any need of you if Yates asks for you 
 or wishes to speak with you I will take you 
 down." 
 
 Fleming sprang into the carriage, where the 
 Bishop was already seated, and Anne stood look- 
 ing after them as they rolled away, leaving eddies 
 of white dust in the track of their wheels. When 
 they were out of sight she turned slowly and en- 
 tered the house. She went up-stairs and per- 
 mitted her maid to dress her hair and lace her 
 gown. Then she came down and paced up and 
 down the hall; but the house air stifled her. 
 She seized a long cloak, and throwing it over 
 her shoulders, stepped out once more on the ter-
 
 THE MOVING FINGER 327 
 
 race to meet the glory of the sunrise, which 
 seemed an insult to the grief in her heart. It 
 was the old story : 
 
 " How can ye chaunt, ye little birds, 
 And I sae weary, full of care ! " 
 
 For the first time Anne Blythe was profoundly 
 moved by a sorrow not her own, and it marked 
 an epoch in her life. But, as with most epochs, 
 there had been a period of unconscious prep- 
 aration going on in her mind. It was as 
 Fleming fancied long ago in his walk through the 
 rain, when he had analyzed Mrs. Blythe's charac- 
 ter and hazarded a guess as to the influences to 
 which she might owe its development. " A great 
 affection," he had said, " would do it." A great 
 affection had done it. Already she was learn- 
 ing to see life through the magnifying-lens of 
 Fleming's larger nature : she was learning that 
 desire of discipline which had been so alien to 
 her a year ago, and she was ready to accept her 
 share of those mutual responsibilities which bind 
 society together. 
 
 But her interests were still profoundly personal 
 and intensely individual. It was the thought of 
 Tom and his suffering on her account which 
 now knocked importunately at her heart and 
 would not be put aside. She gave herself up
 
 328 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 freely to the reproaches of her conscience as she 
 recalled the scene of the night before in the 
 white-and-gold room. She realized now with 
 what a shock her announcement must have 
 come upon Tom Yates. Things which vitally 
 affect our own lives come quickly to seem 
 part of history, and in Anne's mind her en- 
 gagement to Fleming was already old, part of 
 the calm order of things, when she confided 
 it so lightly to Yates. Now for the first time 
 she put herself in his place and fancied Fleming 
 telling her in such a way of his love for another 
 woman. " Oh, did it hurt Tom like that ? " she 
 wondered. 
 
 If Tom died now, could she ever forgive her- 
 self? She would be to blame, not for wilful 
 cruelty, perhaps, but for a self-absorption which 
 would not let her enter into the sufferings of an- 
 other, and she had promised such a little while 
 ago to stand by him in any trouble ! She had 
 boasted that she had it in her to be as good a friend 
 as a man, and when it was put to the proof she 
 had failed him like this. 
 
 She flung her trouble into the smiling face of 
 the dawn, and with aching eyes watched the 
 coming of day. There is a solemnity in sunrise 
 far beyond that of sunset. The savage did well 
 to fear the dark whence his foe might leap out
 
 THE MOVING FINGER 329 
 
 to bury the hatchet in his sleeping brain; but for 
 us, whose perils spring from within, the danger 
 begins with waking, and it would be fitting for 
 us to offer up petitions to the rising sun, that 
 while his beams shone we might be kept from 
 folly and gluttony, from falsehood and treach- 
 ery, from lust of the eye and pride of life ; that 
 we might be wise to guard against the enemy 
 who comes in the guise of friendship, and to 
 bare our hearts to the friend who wounds us in 
 the name of truth ; that we might go forth to 
 meet our lives with a tender heart and a tough 
 courage, and lay us down at night feeling that 
 the world is no worse off for the day that we 
 have spent in it. 
 
 How long Anne sat communing alone with 
 her conscience in the chilly morning she could 
 not have told. Giulio brought her coffee, and 
 she swallowed it eagerly. Then she wheeled 
 her chair about that she might catch the first 
 glimpse of Fleming on his return. With the 
 thought of him light began to dawn on her 
 mood. She strove loyally to cling to her mel- 
 ancholy, but it was like a night trying to be 
 dark when the moon had risen. His image 
 would break through the gloom. She longed 
 for him. She deeply desired to lay her head 
 against his shoulder and be comforted; yet
 
 330 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 when he came at last she did not advance to 
 meet him, but held herself away. It was her 
 little reparation. 
 
 As usual, however, self-sacrifice demanded its 
 revenges; virtue, with most of us, being like a 
 rubber ball which if pressed upward too hard in 
 one place is bound to sink down in another. 
 There was a distinctly petulant note in Anne's 
 tone as she exclaimed, questioning Fleming's face 
 with eager eyes: 
 
 " Tell me all about him quickly, and don't 
 look so calm ! He is not going to die say he 
 is not ! " 
 
 " No ; he is in no immediate danger." 
 
 " Oh, how glad I am ! " sighed Anne, with a 
 gasp of relief; but Fleming continued : 
 
 " Perhaps, poor fellow, death would be the 
 best thing." 
 
 Anne's face paled. The hope of atonement 
 which had risen joyous in her heart fell back be- 
 fore the sadness of Fleming's tone. 
 
 " What does the doctor say *? " she asked. 
 
 " He talks of ' acute primary dementia.' " 
 
 Anne tapped her slippered foot impatiently on 
 the brick pavement. 
 
 "Dear me!" she exclaimed. "What do I 
 know or care about a lot of technical words like 
 that ? Oh, why can't a man tell you the story of
 
 TftE MOVING FINGER 331 
 
 what happened as a woman would, so you feel 
 as if you 'd been there *? " 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested Fleming, lightly, not 
 suspecting the underlying causes of Anne's irri- 
 tation " perhaps because he is more hampered 
 by the facts." 
 
 " Facts ! " exclaimed Anne, scornfully. " Facts 
 are just bones. If you wanted to see a flesh-and- 
 blood human being, would you thank any one to 
 show you a skeleton ? " 
 
 " More than I should thank him to show me 
 a creature of his imagination when I wished ta 
 know about the real thing." 
 
 " Well, well, never mind about that. Just 
 begin and tell as clearly as you can from the 
 beginning when you started in the carriage." 
 
 " I don't remember much, dear, I really donX 
 except that we drove very fast and that the 
 Bishop talked most of the time about Yates." 
 
 " I am sure he said something unkind. He 
 never liked Tom, never appreciated him, never 
 was even fair to him." 
 
 Anne spoke resentfully, eager as we all are at 
 times to turn into any other channel the stream 
 of reproach which is setting too insistently inward 
 upon ourselves. 
 
 "No," Fleming answered; "the Bishop spoke 
 kindly enough. He said Yates was what some
 
 332 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 one called Pepys, ' a pollard man ' ; that is, that 
 the higher aspirations had been lopped off, but 
 that the lower faculties flourished all the more 
 abundantly." 
 
 " I don't call that very kind. I should n't like 
 it said of me. But never mind any more about 
 the drive. Did you see Tom ? " 
 
 " Yes, I saw him." 
 
 *' Did he recognize you ? Did he ask for me *? " 
 
 " No ; he was speechless and utterly unaffected 
 by everything going on around him." 
 
 " How did he look <? " 
 
 "The impression was too painful. I would 
 rather not dwell upon it least of all with you," 
 he added to himself] as he noted Anne's twitching 
 fingers and strained voice. 
 
 " What did the doctor say of the future ? " 
 
 " Nothing definite. In fact, he said he did n't 
 know, which really gave me some confidence in 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he was looking after his reputation, 
 and what was our peace of mind compared with 
 that!" 
 
 " I am afraid," Fleming answered gravely, 
 *' that there would have been very little peace of 
 mind for Yates's friends to be had from the doc- 
 tor's opinion of probabilities. He asked many 
 questions of the Bishop and me. Some of them
 
 THE MOVING FINGER 335 
 
 we could not answer; but when he heard that 
 there was insanity in the family, that Yates's father 
 and grandfather had died in an asylum, he shook 
 his head discouragingly." 
 
 " But it came so suddenly." 
 
 " It seems so to us," Fleming answered, " but 
 the doctor thinks that the tendency may have 
 lurked in his system for a long while." 
 
 " But he was quite himself last night, was n't 
 he?" 
 
 "That was one of the questions which the doctor 
 asked. He thought that the excitement of Yates's 
 stock-exchange life combined with his drinking 
 habits must have laid the foundation for this 
 that it would have come ultimately, anyway; 
 but he asked if we knew of any shock which 
 would have precipitated it. Any sudden grief or 
 terror, he said, might have accounted for it." 
 
 Anne bowed her head upon her hands, and the 
 long-restrained tears burst out. 
 
 "Blair," she cried, "it was my fault all 
 mine ! If he dies, I have killed him." 
 
 Fleming looked at her anxiously and moved a 
 step nearer her ; but she motioned him away. 
 
 ** I told him last night that I was going to 
 marry you told him lightly, with no warning 
 and with no explanation. Just because a few 
 people were waiting for me in the drawing-room
 
 336 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 I went away and left him. Oh," she sobbed, " I 
 was selfish and cruel, and now I can never tell 
 him how sorry I am." 
 
 Fleming crossed the terrace with a determined 
 gentleness which would not be repelled. 
 
 " My darling," he said, putting his arm close 
 about her, " we will be sorry together."
 
 XXI 
 
 IL PARADISINO 
 " One only entered in peace." 
 
 A AHEY were sitting, he and she, on the steps 
 J. of " II Paradisino," the little hermitage 
 above Vallombrosa and the monastery, over- 
 looking a wide stretch of Tuscan landscape. 
 They had been married for a month, and still 
 they found it absorbingly interesting to be alone 
 together, from which we must infer that they 
 were both very happy and very foolish ; for if 
 two people are really one, why should they be 
 less dull together than when alone ? 
 
 Fleming broke the silence which had fallen 
 between them. 
 
 " Anne," he said, " are you sure that you never 
 regret giving up that money? " 
 
 " On the contrary, I regret it frequently." 
 
 "Much?" 
 
 " Very much indeed ! " 
 
 Fleming's face clouded. 
 337
 
 338 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " I was afraid of it," he said. 
 
 " Now you are silly, and it pleases me to see 
 that you can be as silly as any man when you 
 start. I said that I regretted the money. I 
 never said I regretted the choice between the 
 money and you. That you know I don't. But 
 if you expected virtuous sentiments about the 
 joys of poverty " 
 
 " Poverty, Anne *? I don't call it quite that, 
 do you "? " 
 
 "Say respectable mediocrity, then, which is 
 worse. If you wished creditable phrases turned 
 out to order on the subject, you should have 
 married Eunice Yates." 
 
 " Eunice Yates ! " 
 
 "Yes; there was a time when I think she 
 would have taken you, I truly do ; but that was 
 before Stuart Walford began to make love to 
 her." 
 
 "When do you think that sentiment of his 
 began?" 
 
 "Oh, more or less the first 'time he saw her 
 there at the villa." 
 
 " Then ! Why, it was after that that he spoke 
 to me about you in a way that was to be par- 
 doned only on the ground of desperate jealousy." 
 
 There was a touch of cynicism in Anne's smile 
 as she answered :
 
 IL PARADISINO 339 
 
 "'He consoled himself with rhetoric.'" 
 
 " But he told me " 
 
 " Yes, I dare say he did ; but men sometimes 
 change their minds suddenly, and when they 
 choose they can stop a love-affair in its own 
 length, like a train of cars." 
 
 " Walford is a well, never mind what he is. 
 He has gone over to the world of shams for good." 
 
 " Or for bad," interpolated Anne ; " but if he 
 had married me I should have taken the rhetoric 
 out of him, and there might have been something 
 worth while left. He was real once." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Fleming, reaching out and 
 taking Anne's hand in his " I am afraid that I 
 am not enough of an altruist to wish him saved 
 at chat price ; but, on the whole, he is well 
 matched with Eunice Yates, for she, too, is a 
 sham, a shadow, with no tactile value. It con- 
 soles me, at any rate, for the poor marriage which 
 you are making that you might have done worse. 
 Walford would really have been about the worst 
 you could do. Upon my soul, I 'd rather have 
 seen you married to Yates yes, drinking and 
 all." 
 
 " Poor Tom ! I might have saved him, per- 
 haps. I shall never forgive myself never." 
 
 " My dear, when a man starts for the devil 
 with a bottle of absinthe in his hand he is likely
 
 340 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 to arrive in spite of all the female influence and 
 that sort of thing which could be set to work 
 tugging at his coat-tails. I don't like the last 
 news I had of him in Newton's letter a few days 
 ago." 
 
 "A letter from Dr. Newton"? Why did n't 
 you show it to me ? " 
 
 " I could not. It was so sad, and we were so 
 happy, I could not make it fit into our mood." 
 
 " Then George is worse ? " 
 
 "He does n't say that. In fact, he says we 
 should see little change in him, that he can sit up, 
 and plays with the dog; but you can read be- 
 tween the lines that he has no hope. A man like 
 Newton knows too much of disease ever to shut 
 his eyes when they have been once fully opened. 
 I never read so melancholy a letter as he writes." 
 
 " What did he say of Tom ? " 
 
 " He speaks of seeing Yates and says that he 
 was looking badly. I 'm sorry for the poor fellow, 
 but I think you idealize him a good deal. All 
 that has come to him would have come in the 
 end anyway. * A man cannot escape that which 
 is written on his forehead.' " 
 
 " I don't suppose," said Anne, " that I could 
 make you understand the tenderness which I feel 
 for Tom. It 's partly vanity, but it 's partly 
 gratitude, too. I do think he really cared for me,
 
 IL PARADISINO 341 
 
 though he got me sadly mixed up with the dol- 
 lars and cents, and if he had married me I should 
 very soon have subsided into a mere episode. 
 Money was the master passion of his life." 
 
 Anne leaned back and clasped her hands be- 
 hind her head. 
 
 " Blair," she said at length, musingly, " have 
 you any philosophy of life *? " 
 
 Fleming turned and looked at her. 
 
 " You are very lovely so, with those filmy 
 white muslin sleeves falling from your arms. 
 They make such a good background for your face." 
 
 " Now you are trying to put me off with a 
 compliment ; but I really want to know." 
 
 "Don't you think it seems a little absurd to 
 undertake to formulate a system of philosophy in 
 ten minutes, and here of all places, where nature 
 is saying, ' Stop thinking ! It 's poor sport. Stop 
 and enjoy ' ? " 
 
 " But I don't ask you to make up a philosophy 
 on the spot. I want to know if you Ve had one 
 all these years." 
 
 " ' Philosophy of life "? What do you mean by 
 that *? " Fleming asked more seriously, leaning 
 his elbow on his knee and resting his chin on the 
 palm of his hand. 
 
 " Satisfactory way of accounting for every- 
 thing."
 
 342 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 " Why, no. I have no theory of how we came 
 into this world, nor of what governs our passage 
 through it, nor of what is to become of us when we 
 are done with it. I long ago closed the book of 
 the Unknowable and ceased to bother with it." 
 
 " But you must have some practical working 
 creed." 
 
 " Oh, if you mean that " 
 
 " Yes, that 's just what I do mean." 
 
 *' Well, then, I believe that, finding ourselves 
 here, it is our clear duty to add something to the 
 sum of human happiness." . 
 
 "Go on," Anne said, withdrawing her hands 
 from her head and leaning forward. " What else 
 do you believe in ? " 
 
 " I believe (this is a confession of faith, mind 
 you, and not of practice) I believe in hating 
 cant and sham in our neighbors and ourselves, es- 
 pecially in ourselves, and in not permitting our- 
 selves to cherish any fine sentiments which we do 
 not work out in action. I believe in cultivating 
 a sense of proportion, seeing large things large 
 and small things small, doing our work squarely 
 for the work's sake, and merging what pride we 
 have in the achievements of the race, which are 
 really most creditable to us pygmies." 
 
 " And how about heaven *? " 
 
 " There again you have me. If you mean a
 
 IL PARADISINO 343 
 
 literal New Jerusalem, I have no views at all. 
 If you mean heaven as another name for happi- 
 ness, that 's a different matter." 
 
 " Well, take it so." 
 
 " If I were to sum up my idea of heaven in 
 that sense, it would be a harmony of the inner 
 and outer worlds, combined with a cheerful ac- 
 ceptance of our limitations." 
 
 " Oh, dear," protested Anne, " I don't believe 
 in acceptance of our limitations at all. I approve 
 of kicking against them as hard as we can, and 
 climbing as well as kicking." 
 
 Fleming laughed. 
 
 " I should have said our insurmountable limi- 
 tations," he explained ; " but I remembered your 
 accusation against the legal mind of always quali- 
 fying a truth into a truism." 
 
 Anne looked up at him sidewise out of smiling 
 eyes. 
 
 " I don't see," she said, " that there is any need 
 of me in your heaven." 
 
 "No need of you.? You 're the whole thing. 
 You are the harmony. * Du bist die Rub' du 
 bist der Frieden' In the dull old times before I 
 knew you I accepted my own limitations cheer- 
 fully enough in fact, with a resignation which 
 no one but myself could distinguish from com- 
 placency; but I was highly impatient with the
 
 344 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 limitations of the rest of the world, out of tune 
 with the universe, locked up in Doubting Castle, 
 with the feeling that Giant Despair might make 
 a meal of me any day. Then you came along 
 and turned the key of my donjon on that blessed 
 day at Vincigliata, and ever since I have been a 
 free man, walking the Delectable Mountains, 
 with Paradise in full view." 
 
 Again Fleming fell into silence. Anne opened 
 her purse and laid a soldo on his knee. 
 
 " So that is all you think my thoughts are 
 worth, is it *? " asked her husband, with his deep- 
 chested laugh. " Well, perhaps even so you '11 
 get the worst of the bargain. I was thinking of a 
 talk which we had at the club a year or more ago. 
 Newton was there, and Yates, and then Walford 
 came in. How it happened I don't remember, 
 but we fell to talking of our individual ideal of 
 Paradise. It is curious, in looking back, to see 
 how the success and failure of each man was 
 foreshadowed in his words that day as if 
 the germ of it all was in himself. It is a terrible 
 thing, Anne, this modern idea of destiny, which 
 makes it not some malign outside power doing 
 spiteful things to us, but the slow inevitable 
 working out of our own natures. It seems to be of 
 so little consequence what we say or do, when what 
 we are looms above us, driving us on to our fate."
 
 IL PARADISINO 345 
 
 44 What were their ideals?" Anne asked, ig- 
 noring Fleming's speculations. 
 
 44 1 don't know that I could restate them ex- 
 actly. Newton had some vague idea of doing 
 great things in science and winning recognition 
 from men whose approval meant something. 
 Yates wanted money nothing vague about 
 him." 
 
 "And Mr. Walford?" 
 
 44 Influence was what he wanted 4 influence 
 for good,' as he put it." 
 
 44 Dear me! so I was n't in his Paradise, either? " 
 
 "I ignore the 'either,' having already refuted 
 its implication. As for Mr. Walford, he did n't 
 know you then. It was just before Mr. Blythe's 
 funeral. Probably a month later he would have 
 said : ' Better Eve without Paradise than Para- 
 dise without Eve ! ' I confess / have less sym- 
 pathy with Adam than I used to have." 
 
 44 It is strange, is n't it," Anne mused, 44 that a 
 single year should have brought each of those 
 men the wish of his heart?" 
 
 44 And yet now he has it, he is not satisfied." 
 
 " Who is ? " 
 
 "Thackeray asks the same question some- 
 where. I wish I had him here to show him his 
 man. / am utterly, blissfully contented; and 
 thou, belovedest ? "
 
 346 FOUR ROADS TO PARADISE 
 
 Anne drew a quick, short breath. 
 
 " I am so happy," she said, " that I don't dare 
 to think about it. I know how a great singer 
 must feel when his voice is in the very height of 
 its power and he trembles when he goes on the 
 stage lest the first sound may show a tiny flaw in 
 its perfectness. I wish," she added slowly, look- 
 ing off over the green blur of the tree-tops "I 
 wish that we could stay here always and need 
 never go down into the world below." 
 
 As Anne spoke, a sudden sharp little wind 
 sprang up and lifted the ruffles of her muslin 
 sleeves. She shivered, and the shiver roused 
 Fleming to the sphere of practical things. 
 
 "On the contrary," he said, "we must go 
 down at once. The tramontana is rising, and 
 your gown is thin. Besides, the Bishop is waiting 
 patiently at the Croce di Savoia in the valley 
 with that inevitable tea-basket. I confess I don't 
 share his taste. Does n't it strike you, Anne, that 
 tea is a rather mild beverage for a man six feet 
 high by two feet wide ? When I think how far 
 that gentle liquid must travel before it can reach 
 the nerves which it aims to stimulate, I wonder 
 at its courage in starting." 
 
 " You have n't the temperament for tea, Blair. 
 What 's the use of offering you ' the cup that 
 cheers but not inebriates' if you will insist on be-
 
 IL PARADISINO 347 
 
 ing inebriated before you consent to be cheered ? 
 Well, let us go, since we must. It grows harder 
 and harder to leave, the longer we stay in this en- 
 chanted spot." 
 
 But Anne did not rise, and Fleming leaned 
 against the doorway for some moments*, looking 
 down at her with delight in his eyes. At last he 
 put his hand in his pocket and dropped a lira 
 into her lap. 
 
 "You see," he said, "that my estimates are 
 more civil than yours. Is it the Adriatic you are 
 thinking of? Your eyes look at least as far away 
 as that." 
 
 "I was thinking," Anne replied softly, "of 
 the old yellow sun-dial there in our garden at the 
 villa, and of the inscription round it : 
 
 ' L' amor che muove 51 sol e 1' altre stelle.' 
 
 I wonder if that is not the legend over the gates 
 of Paradise."
 
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