THE RED MOON
 
 THE RED MOON 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. EUGENIE JONES-BACON 
 
 NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 
 
 THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 1910
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY 
 THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
 
 The sweetest gifts of God to a woman, 
 a husband and a child.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A WOMAN'S DREAM 9 
 
 II. 1860 TO 1865 26 
 
 III. ALICE GREY 34 
 
 IV. THE SHIPWRECK 49 
 
 V. A WOMAN'S Vow 60 
 
 VI. ALBINA'S FOURTH TRIAL 71 
 
 VII. ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS .... 76 
 
 VIII. THE ABDUCTION 96 
 
 IX. WALLIS 101 
 
 X. MEMORY REFRESHED 114 
 
 XI. HOPE AND FEAR 125 
 
 XII. THE RED MOON GOES DOWN ... 131 
 
 XIII. AT THE DOCKS . . .__i_^_ ... 138 
 
 XIV. THE REUNION 145
 
 THE RED MOON 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 
 " You may live the religion you cannot talk." 
 
 " STOP teasing, Dolly, I'm in earnest. Will you 
 marry me ? " 
 
 A roguish merriment plays about Dolly's lips. 
 " Marry you, Jonah? What have you to offer a 
 young woman with lofty ideas, and unnumbered 
 desires for the future? Your farm is encumbered 
 with a heavy mortgage, and your purse empty; can 
 you expect me to cast my lot with yours before 
 you have made a fresh start in life? " 
 
 Remorse burns in Jonah's heart, for he is con- 
 scious that he has sown a plentiful crop of wild 
 oats, and that the yield is one of disappointment 
 and poverty; but, to be told these plain facts by 
 the girl he loves, and wishes to make his wife, is 
 hard to endure, and a hot flush mounts to his 
 cheeks. 
 
 But love knows no defeat, and presently Jonah 
 finds fresh courage.
 
 10 
 
 " Sweetheart, every word you say is true, but 
 sometimes adversity rouses a fellow brings him to 
 his senses. Will you marry me and go West with 
 me? I'll dig for gold, and more than likely pan 
 out a round million. Will that supply your needs ? " 
 
 Dolly touches lightly her lover's forehead, and 
 replies gravely : " You have caught the Western 
 fever, have you? Your temples are burning hot. 
 All right, go dig with a shovel and pick in the 
 gold fields, then come to me and I will give you 
 my answer." 
 
 Impulsively Jonah clasps Dolly's hand and draws 
 her to his side. " Sweetheart, I'd dig with joy, 
 day and night, to win your love." Then the vigor 
 of hope thrills his .soul, and he kisses her. 
 
 Dolly's head sinks upon her lover's shoulder, 
 every vestige of merriment gone from her face. A 
 new color suddenly flashes its glow of hope over 
 the outlook of her life, as she realizes the vitalizing 
 power of love. The dark clouds of poverty turn 
 to a roseate hue with Jonah as her avowed lover. 
 If love binds their hearts together, what trials can 
 they not endure! Jonah, too, forgets his poverty. 
 Dolly's heart beats close beside his, and his bronzed 
 face touches her pink cheeks. What cares he for 
 money ? 
 
 " Sweetheart, will you marry me? Say yes, and 
 I will yoke my oxen, make my covered wagon a
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 11 
 
 house on wheels, and we will start for the gold fields 
 of the Pacific Coast. Hundreds as poor as I am 
 are already on the Western trail. Let us join the 
 hopeful crowd." 
 
 The compact is sealed with a kiss, and the wed- 
 ding day finally fixed for a day in early spring. 
 
 When the birds are mating, Dorothy Albina Allen 
 stands before the altar of God with a rosebud in 
 her hand and promises to love, honor, and obey 
 Jonah Baxter. He vows, " With all my worldly 
 goods I thee endow," knowing himself to be poverty- 
 stricken. 
 
 Cheered with the good wishes of friends, and in 
 a shower of rice, the newly married couple leave 
 Dayton, Ohio. The horns of Buck and Dock are 
 adorned with old slippers, and there is a broad band 
 of white ribbon tied across the covered wagon. This 
 improvised home on wheels shows the skilful touch 
 of a woman's hand. A barrel of cornmeal, and 
 sacks of flour, share the corners with a medley of 
 the small articles needed on a long and wearisome 
 overland journey. On the sides hang a good store 
 of smoked bacon, and sun-dried beef, called, in 
 country parlance, "jerked meat"; and the cooking 
 stove and bird cage are in close touch. 
 
 Dolly is fond of pets, and sees with pleasure that 
 her yellow cat and Jonah's fox terrier are cuddled 
 together, on the foot of the mattress. 
 
 2136390
 
 12 THE RED MOON 
 
 Neither Jonah nor his bride realize the tedium 
 of the journey they are to take, with slow-moving 
 oxen as their only means of locomotion. Happily, 
 in the hearts of the young there pulsates a well- 
 spring of expectation, and in the first days of love 
 a silvery glow transforms commonplace things, ob- 
 literating the dark forebodings and shadows that 
 sometimes mar life's outlook. 
 
 Jonah and his wife are determined to master fate, 
 and with hope and health to brace their resolve 
 they are confident of success in the gold fields. 
 
 It was in 1849 that the country went mad over 
 the discovery of gold in the far West. Numbers 
 of Eastern men left homes, and in their desire to 
 dig for gold they gave little thought to the pros- 
 pect of midnight attacks of Indians. Not yet had 
 the Western plains with their bleaching human 
 bones given clear proof of the deadly vengeance 
 of the Red Man resenting the encroachment of 
 others upon his happy hunting grounds. 
 
 With a woman's instinct, Dolly realizes that the 
 time to train a husband to suit oneself is in the 
 early days of married life, before love becomes an 
 old story and subsides. Bravely, then, in everyday 
 occurrences, she uses the hammer upon the forge of 
 her husband's life, and molds while the iron is 
 malleable. She has an abiding belief in the prom- 
 ises contained in the leaves of her father's well-worn
 
 13 
 
 Bible. He was a Scotch clergyman, often preached 
 of hell and hell-fire; and underlined his favorite 
 texts ; one of which reads, " Ye shall be tormented 
 with fire and brimstone in the presence of the Holy 
 Angels." 
 
 Well grounded in Scriptural doctrines, Dolly has 
 developed decided ideas, and now insists that both 
 man and beast must rest on the seventh day. Jonah 
 protests, but finally yields. On Sunday, then, the 
 oxen are tethered beside the road. Dolly rises early 
 to make coffee, and on an improvised camp table 
 spreads the breakfast. Dressed in their " Sunday- 
 go-to-meeting " clothes, Dolly reads aloud from her 
 father's Bible, often interrupted by Jonah's com- 
 ments. 
 
 " Sweetheart, old Solomon must have had you in 
 mind when he wrote those Proverbs, and King Lem- 
 uel describes you to a tee, when he says, ' There 
 are many daughters (who) have done virtuously, 
 but thou excellest them all.' Read that verse again, 
 ' Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth 
 among the elders of the land.' I say, sweetheart, 
 these white -shirts washed and ironed by you beside 
 the campfire, make a man feel worthy to sit in 
 the gate of any city alongside the mighty men of 
 the land." 
 
 A merry laugh indicates how pleased Dolly feels 
 over this compliment. Callous indeed is the woman
 
 14 THE RED MOON 
 
 who is not stronger and more hopeful for words of 
 commendation from her husband. 
 
 Time wears on, with its routine of daily duties. 
 Fortunately each new experience has its joys and 
 pleasures, as well as its hours of depression ; and 
 the young heed not the shadows on life's pathway 
 until the revolving lamp of fate turns its hooded 
 side to them. 
 
 The grey mists gradually overshadow Jonah's 
 hopes. 
 
 " Dolly, we have jogged along with these oxen 
 for months and are not yet near the Pacific Coast. 
 Where are the crowds going West? The few we 
 have met, like myself, are ready to wheel about and 
 go back. Sweetheart, if one-half the stories be true 
 of the richness of gold fields in California, every 
 mother's son in America would be on this overland 
 trail. Shall we go back?" Dolly is silent. She 
 reaches for her father's Bible, and, caressing it, 
 says: "Father often found a solution for his per- 
 plexities within these pages. Why can't we do the 
 same? Let us select a verse and see if it will shed 
 light on our plans, for I am not able to advise 
 you." 
 
 Jonah shouts to his oxen : " Whoa, Buck ! 
 Whoa, Dock ! " With merriment in his voice, he 
 replies, " Dolly, you know every word of the Bible 
 from cover to cover. If our future plans are to be
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 15 
 
 decided by a verse, let chance have a showing, not 
 your familiarity with the Scripture." 
 
 " I'm willing to leave the selection to chance. 
 Blindfold me, then, while I point out a verse." 
 
 With her eyes tightly blindfolded and the Bible 
 closed, Dolly gently opens the Book, and places her 
 finger midway of a page. 
 
 " Read that verse, Jonah." 
 
 With emphasis he begins : " No man having put 
 his hands to the plough His voice quivers 
 
 slightly, but his wife encourages him, and he starts 
 afresh. " No man having put his hands to the 
 plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of 
 Heaven." They are both awed into silence. Jonah 
 whispers : " Dolly, that test has been squarely and 
 fairly done. God surely is your guide, and from 
 hence He shall be mine." 
 
 " No lane is .so long but that it has its turn- 
 ing." In time they reach the Western coast, and 
 there they find a wilderness of golden-tinted poppies 
 growing in wild confusion on the sandy cliffs that 
 overhang the sea, its water glistening like liquid 
 diamonds canopied by a turquoise sky. Jonah loses 
 no time in staking his claims, and builds himself an 
 adobe cabin. He believes the little town may yet 
 become a mighty city, like Rome, built on the slope 
 of many hills, with long reaches of land beyond. 
 
 Each country has certain advantages and disad-
 
 16 THE RED MOON 
 
 vantages, and it is not long before the once hope- 
 ful Jonah begins to emphasize the disappointment he 
 feels in his new home in the West. 
 
 " I say, Dolly, we have reached the Pacific Coast 
 only to be choked to death with sea sand, sea sand, 
 with not an atom of gold dust in it. It blows 
 into my eyes, goes down my back, and covers me 
 with grit. I'm ready to start East. Are you? " 
 
 Dolly has always tried to cheer her husband, but 
 she, too, is discouraged. No sooner has she tidied 
 her little cottage, washed and polished her dishes, 
 than a gust of wind blows the sand over every- 
 thing. Rain has not fallen for six months, the 
 earth is dry, and yet, at every doorstep, flowers 
 bloom and vegetation flourishes. Flowers are per- 
 ennial in California. 
 
 Jonah is in despair. " Come, Dolly, select an- 
 other verse and decide if we shall go East, or stay 
 here and starve on sea sand. Don't tell me to wait 
 and be patient. Without rain this country may 
 blossom like the Garden of Eden, but I'm not happy. 
 I did not endure that long overland journey for 
 the fun of picking flowers. I came to dig for gold, 
 but it's only worthless sea sand I find." 
 
 Dolly's voice, always merry with laughter, is sub- 
 dued; she folds a small garment, quite finished now, 
 and brushing the grit from her dress says : " Do 
 you believe in dreams, Jonah?"
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 17 
 
 "I reckon I do, if they happen to suit me." 
 
 " You know, dear," continues Dolly, " the old 
 prophets were dreamers of dreams. Father Allen 
 believed a dream dreamed three times, and told to 
 the one you loved best in the world, would insure 
 its realization." 
 
 Jonah makes no reply, but clinches his pipe-stem 
 with a firm grip, and in lieu of more profitable em- 
 ployment, whittles a stick. Every aspect of his life 
 reveals a dismal failure, leaving him without faith 
 or hope for the future. 
 
 His wife, too, is losing her buoyancy. She is 
 far from home and home-ties with many daily duties 
 taxing her failing strength. One sweet picture, 
 however, remains in her mind the hour when, with 
 joyous expectations, she walked to the altar with a 
 rosebud in her hand, and a well-spring of love in 
 her heart. She constantly reverts to her dream, 
 dreamed three times, and now she will tell it to 
 Jonah,, the one she loves best. 
 
 " I do not deserve to be loved, Dolly, I, with only 
 bad luck dragging me down." 
 
 Dolly looks up with a twinkle in her eyes, and 
 a remnant of her coquettish smile. " We married 
 for richer or for poorer, and so must meet the 
 days as they come, must we not? " 
 
 " It's for poorer, sweetheart. True, I have the 
 best wife God ever gave a man, and if only I can
 
 18 THE RED MOON 
 
 make money, she shall dress in silks and satins. 
 Thank God, we have peace in our home, and some- 
 times, Dolly, you do smile your courtship smile, which 
 gives me strength to bear my trials." 
 
 But Dolly is in a contemplative mood. 
 
 " Jonah, I care nothing for silks and satins. I 
 prefer to use money to lighten the burden of the 
 oppressed, to comfort the widow and orphan. There 
 are many ways that I could use gold coin," and a 
 far-away look overspreads her face. 
 
 " Wife, you are dreaming with your eyes wide 
 open. Wake up, and tell me what you discovered 
 in your vision. Was it gold nuggets? I'm ready 
 to dig, if I can dig to some purpose." 
 
 " My vision did not locate a gold mine for you, 
 but I dreamed you amassed a fortune by the aid 
 of a sand shovel. Be patient," and she motions him 
 to be seated. " If this new town could be relieved 
 of the accumulation of sand washed ashore by the in- 
 coming tides of ages, there is no doubt in my mind 
 it would become the garden spot of America. Now, 
 then, I dreamed that with a large sand shovel you 
 scraped away this unstable sea sand, making your 
 land saleable in lots and -so filled your pockets with 
 gold coin, and not with gold dust." 
 
 Jonah jumps to his feet. " This is a gigantic 
 task! By the shade of George Washington, what 
 a difficult bit of work! Sweetheart, I'd need two
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 19 
 
 lives to finish this unending job. A whale might 
 gulp up tons of sea sand and spue them into the 
 sea, but imagine me shoveling sand under the rays 
 of this tropical sun ! I'd need a quick- growing vine 
 to shield me, and ravens to feed me." He strides 
 nervously up and down. " The very mention of 
 food makes me realize our barrel of meal is ex- 
 hausted, and the cruse of oil empty. How can I 
 refill them? Not by shoveling sand. It's all right 
 to have faith in the Bible, and dreams, but a fellow 
 must be practical to succeed. Must he not?" 
 
 Dolly busies herself making a drawing of the 
 mammoth sand shovel, while Jonah .sits inertly by. 
 A gust of wind covers him with sand. 
 
 " Confound it ! This pestiferous grit coats my 
 tongue, blinds my eyes, and chokes me. I'm ready 
 to shovel dirt, anything to be rid of the nuisance." 
 
 Dolly has finished her drawing and explains how 
 easily the sand can be removed. 
 
 The dark side of life's lantern now revolves, and 
 the gloomy outlook changes to a bright glow of 
 hope, while Jonah toils day by day with Buck and 
 Dock drawing his sand shovel. Jeeringly, men 
 ask when he will dig a new sea? Their idle taunt 
 has no effect, for there is light ahead for Jonah. 
 
 One success, one joy never satisfies us. We are 
 ever seeking something else, anticipating, perhaps, 
 a trial, or a sorrow.
 
 20 THE RED MOON 
 
 Jonah does make money with his new device, but 
 he is not content, and seeks a new field of thought. 
 Standing beside his wife he asks : 
 
 "Dolly, if I die, will you marry again? Will 
 you share my hard-earned gold with some fellow 
 eager to live in idleness? Your Bible you love so 
 well advocates a woman's marrying seven times, but 
 I'd rise from my grave and choke the man who 
 dared kiss your lips.'* 
 
 Dolly laughs at the very thought, but her voice 
 is sad as she replies : " We intuitively shrink from 
 burdens that we have borne day by day. Married 
 women find it a difficult task to train one man to 
 suit their exalted ideas, so then, if our young day- 
 dreams of happiness with the man of our choice 
 turn to sorrow, and he dies, remember it adds new 
 care to one's life to train another husband. Pray 
 do not fear that your chair beside the hearthstone 
 will ever be filled by anyone else." A roguish 
 merriment dances about her deep-set brown eyes. 
 " When I married you, Jonah, life was a mystery 
 to me. I believed the sun would never go below the 
 horizon, but alway envelop me in its soft rays. I 
 pictured my pathway strewn with roses." She 
 plucks a rosebud from the vine overhead. " That 
 delusion is over. I have grown wise as I steam 
 over the kitchen fire, or bend over the washtub. 
 However, when the day's work is finished and you
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 21 
 
 sit beside me, I forget the toil, and am quite con- 
 tent and happy. Are you, Jonah? " 
 
 Recalling the hard trials his wife has endured, 
 Jonah's heart is too full for words. He passes his 
 hand over his eyes to shut out this mental vision, 
 and resolves to double his energy in shovelling sea 
 sand with his mammoth sand shovel. 
 
 The shifting sands of San Francisco were really 
 removed by just such an invention. Like the fabled 
 giant, San Francisco continues to make rapid prog- 
 ress, and no lovelier place can be found than the 
 city at the Golden Gate of the Pacific; where in 
 1579 Sir Francis Drake proposed to his sea cap- 
 tain that a religious service be held in grateful 
 acknowledgment for God's protection during their 
 first voyage around the world. 
 
 It is in San Francisco that Jonah and his wife 
 are now settled, and where a wee brown-eyed girl, 
 named Albina Allen, comes to enliven the home, a 
 tiny rosebud to develop within the walls of the rude 
 cabin. Jonah fears to touch the fairy-like creature, 
 lest it, too, vanish from sight, as did his early 
 dreams of wealth. 
 
 In the West the Indians call white children 
 " snow babies," and now, gazing with fixed atten- 
 tion into the cradle at Albina Allen, an old Indian 
 squaw makes a strange prediction. As she sways
 
 her muscular body back and forth seven times, 
 crosses her forehead solemnly, and turns abruptly 
 to the east to give efficacy to her words, she says : 
 " Snow baby bend like a reed, seven times, but snow 
 baby no break. Snow baby moon rise red like blood, 
 but snow baby sun set in gold, bright, like day." 
 
 Being more or less influenced by superstition, 
 Dolly ponders over this curious prophecy. She 
 watches with loving tenderness the development of 
 her little girl, with the deep-set brown eyes, and 
 wonders why this curious prediction should be made 
 over her precious child's life. For Dolly hopes her 
 daughter will fulfil the philanthropic ideas she her- 
 self has never been able to accomplish. 
 
 As the years pass, Dolly's dream is fulfilled, for 
 Jonah makes a modest fortune. He builds a large 
 and comfortable house, and other children come to 
 enliven the Baxter home, but, like the early bloom- 
 ing poppies, they droop, and die. Side by side the 
 little graves lie in God's Acre. Albina Allen, how- 
 ever, develops rapidly, and on her young brow there 
 is a sad expression, reminding her mother of the 
 heritage foretold by the Indian squaw. 
 
 The little human reed bends almost to breaking 
 over the death of a tiny brother, whose little casket 
 she covers with white rosebuds. This is her first 
 trial. 
 
 The second bending of the reed of her life, is over
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 23 
 
 the suffering of " Uncle Tom," as depicted in a 
 book that is firing the fuse of abolition. With a 
 child's keen sympathy for the downtrodden, she asks 
 day after day : " Mamma, is there nothing a little 
 girl can do to help ' Uncle Tom ' out of his misery ? 
 When I'm older will you let me do something for 
 the poor negroes ? " 
 
 Dolly encourages these philanthropic ideas in her 
 daughter, whom she feels sure will make her life a 
 useful one, not one to be frittered away as a society 
 butterfly, leaving no good works to mark the path- 
 way of her existence. 
 
 Though quite in agreement on most subjects, 
 Jonah and his wife differ widely on this subject of 
 slavery, a subject now agitating the country at 
 large. In reading Northern papers containing 
 stories of cruelty on Southern plantations, Jonah 
 gets excited, and tossing aside the papers declares : 
 " Every black man in America should be on his 
 knees in gratitude for his servitude, which in the 
 end places him within sound of the Christian church 
 bells. He was brought over bound physically, but 
 is now mentally enlightened by the story of Re- 
 demption. In His love for the untutored cannibals 
 of Africa, God appointed human agents to drag 
 them away from the dense canebrakes where in a 
 miasmic climate missionaries dare not risk their own 
 lives."
 
 24, THE RED MOON 
 
 Dolly exclaims : " The hand of God linked with 
 the hand of the oppressor! Never, never, Jonah." 
 
 Little Albina is deeply moved by these discussions 
 between her father and mother. She thinks as her 
 mother does, but listens attentively while her father 
 says : " Dolly, both your grandfathers and mine 
 helped to start slavery, not alone in America, but 
 far back in the English colonies. Now, no com- 
 punction of conscience troubles me, when I compare 
 the cannibals of Africa with the slaves on a South- 
 ern plantation, contentedly strumming the strings 
 of their banjos. We must all labor. Have you 
 forgotten our own anxieties when we first reached 
 this Western wilderness? I would have gladly wel- 
 comed a master to refill the barrel of meal for me 
 then." 
 
 Dolly is oppressed, for her life is saddened by 
 the death, one after another, of her little babies, 
 whose deaths, like silver threads, keep her thoughts 
 turning upwards, where she feels they await her 
 coming. She is loath to discuss the painful subject 
 of slavery with her husband. 
 
 Day by day little Albina spends hours beside the 
 sea ; its ceaseless roar seems linked with her life, and 
 her eyes follow the great sun as it dips down be- 
 yond the sea line, gleaming like a red moon of fire. 
 Full of hope, she yet wonders why the Indian squaw 
 should predict seven sorrows to overtake her to
 
 A WOMAN'S DREAM 25 
 
 bend her to the breaking point. Intermixed with the 
 prophecy is the comforting assurance that her sun- 
 set will be " bright, like day." 
 
 This only child is a great pet with her father. 
 He calls her his " California poppy," and he 
 watches her maturing to womanhood under the 
 godly influence of her mother.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 1860 TO 1865 
 
 " Much to learn and much to forget." BROWNING. 
 
 IT is now the height of the season in Saratoga, 
 and the hotels are filled to their utmost capacity. 
 Visitors from Virginia, Mississippi, the Carolinas, 
 Georgia and Louisiana are here with their families, 
 a retinue of servants, carriages and fine horses. 
 They have come to drink of the life-giving waters, 
 as an antidote to the miasma of their low-lands. 
 Fully conscious that the best blood of England 
 flows in their veins, they care little for the formal- 
 ities of society, which those of humble parentage 
 study, hoping thereby to gain an entrance into the 
 coveted social circle. 
 
 Major Patterson of Vicksburg, and Colonel Fur- 
 gerson of Virginia, meet morning after morning, at 
 the Congress Spring, but they have not become 
 acquainted. Major Patterson is the first to speak. 
 
 " Good morning, sir; I'm sure we are both South- 
 erners, why do we not come into closer touch as we 
 drink of these life-giving waters ? " Colonel Fur- 
 
 26 ^
 
 1860 TO 1865 27 
 
 gerson extends his hand, gives a secret Masonic sym- 
 bol, and at once they are friends. 
 
 Mrs. Furgerson finds Mrs. Patterson depressed, 
 needing cheer. Her eldest daughter, a mere child 
 in years, who should be under the sweet influences 
 of a mother's love, is on her wedding tour, married 
 to the owner of a vast estate in Mississippi. This 
 child-wife must soon assume the heavy responsibility 
 resting upon the mistress of hundreds of slaves, and 
 her mother is depressed at the outlook. 
 
 Women are not alone in craving sympathy, but 
 often men in real womanish moods .seek comfort in 
 their perplexities. Colonel Furgerson gladly con- 
 sults his new comrade on the management of his 
 estate in Virginia. 
 
 " The old ancestral home of Stirlingate," he says, 
 " which I have inherited with its hallowed associa- 
 tions, was first established in the time of Queen 
 Elizabeth, and in English style descends from father 
 to oldest son. It is now in danger of going to 
 rack and ruin. For years I have resided in New 
 York, leaving my affairs on the plantation in the 
 hands of my colored foreman, Sandy, who is either 
 incompetent, or neglectful." 
 
 " Why, my dear sir," exclaims Major Patterson, 
 " you need a real live Yankee overseer down there 
 to stir up the indolent negroes. I have no doubt 
 your old foreman sleeps half the day, and dances
 
 28 THE RED MOON 
 
 a greater part of the night. I'll guarantee that 
 your corn crop is knee-deep in grass, and your 
 tobacco plants covered with caterpillars. Pay a 
 Northern man a good salary, and your beautiful 
 estate will blossom like a rose. Your next year's 
 crop will amaze you." 
 
 " Where am I to find such a man ? " 
 
 " I can fully recommend a young fellow recently 
 graduated from the agricultural department of a 
 well-known college. Shall I have him see you at 
 your office in New York ? " 
 
 "Do so, Major, and I shall be under lasting obli- 
 gations." 
 
 It is an accepted fact, that in these days of slav- 
 ery no Southern man of any mental ability will 
 assume the position of overseer, even with a lucra- 
 tive salary. He prefers to suffer want rather than 
 be called an " overseer." The position is filled en- 
 tirely by Northern-bred men, with little or no inher- 
 ent love for the negro (such as Southerners feel, 
 who from childhood are petted and spoiled by their 
 black mammies) and with full scope given them 
 by the master, the overseer uses such force and 
 cruelty as finds voice in " Uncle Tom's Cabin." 
 
 The master's duty is not fulfilled in paying a lib- 
 eral salary to his taskmaster, with a bonus on each 
 bale of cotton, tierce of rice, or hogshead of mo- 
 lasses or sugar. Having a keen desire for gain, the
 
 1860 TO 1865 29 
 
 Northern men-drivers urge on the work with the 
 lash, if necessary. Meanwhile, the owner of the es- 
 tate summers at Saratoga or travels in Europe. 
 
 * 
 
 And so it happens that just before Christmas in 
 1860, Mr. Wallis Bickers of Dayton, Ohio, pre- 
 sents a card of introduction from Major Patterson 
 to Colonel Furgerson. 
 
 " Be seated, sir," and the Wall Street lawyer 
 closes a ponderous volume and turns his attention 
 to the cultivation of cotton, corn, and tobacco. He 
 talks freely with his visitor. 
 
 " Have you a wife ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; my mother, a widow, lives with me." 
 
 " Good idea, sir ; a man is lonely without a woman 
 to look after his comfort. What are your politics ? " 
 
 Wallis Bickers hesitates, then answers, candidly : 
 " I am a Northern man, but have never meddled with 
 politics." 
 
 Colonel Furgerson wheels in his revolving chair, 
 and faces his visitor. 
 
 " You are wise, sir, for if I mistake not, we are 
 soon to have civil war; at least such are the signs 
 at Washington. If it does come, it will be a mighty 
 upheaval. As a Southern man, I feel no sympathy 
 with the movement in Boston, and elsewhere, for 
 the education of the black race. God designs dif- 
 ferent men for different spheres of work. A full-
 
 30 THE RED MOON 
 
 blooded horse runs well on the race track, but at- 
 tempt to win a stake with a mule, and the owner 
 will fail to clear the animal's food. On the other 
 hand, hitch a thoroughbred Kentucky horse to a 
 plough, and he will kick it into splinters rather than 
 drag its weight over rough ground. 
 
 " Edward Colston, of Bristol, England, advo- 
 cated the duty of educating the working classes. 
 What did the mayor and aldermen of that old city 
 do ? They at once voted him to be 'a dangerous 
 person, likely to turn the sons of the poor into 
 vipers to sting the rich when once they are raised 
 out of ignorance.' 
 
 " If Northern men will study the contentment of 
 the black race south of Mason and Dixon's line, they 
 will let them alone to live their simple lives lives 
 free from care. I speak of this matter, Mr. Bickers, 
 for if you take charge at Stirlingate I wish no abo- 
 lition doctrine talked to my happy slaves. And 
 now, let me ask if you have had practical experi- 
 ence in the cultivation of land? Book knowledge is 
 well, but not all sufficient." 
 
 " Yes, Colonel ! My diploma in the agricultural 
 department at Amherst was given me after prac- 
 tical work on the farm. If you wish references as 
 to my character, I can give them." 
 
 Colonel Furgerson laughs. 
 
 "I judge a man by his facial expression, that
 
 1860 TO 1865 31 
 
 mysterious hall-mark about his mouth that infalli- 
 bly demonstrates his character. The worst rogues 
 of to-day are many of them highly esteemed church 
 members, moving in good society." 
 
 Although he had strong faith in the physiognomy 
 of persons, Colonel Furgerson makes careful inquiry 
 as to the character of the man he is about to en- 
 gage. It proved entirely satisfactory. 
 
 About the holidays Wallis and his mother arrive. 
 They establish themselves in great comfort, with 
 " Granny Kitty's " daughter as cook, and a " likely 
 girl " from " the quarters " as housemaid. 
 
 In Ohio, Mrs. Bickers herself performed the 
 duties of her household, and her son, by periods of 
 manual labor, worked his way through college. 
 Now, he never saddles, or unharnesses a horse, nor 
 fetches his mother a bucket of water. Mrs. Bickers 
 is having an easy time. 
 
 Negroes are astute observers, and " Granny 
 Kitty " eyes the newcomers with a cynical smile 
 playing about her lips. She places her arms akimbo 
 as she says to her husband : " Sandy, dese w'ite 
 folks is some Yankee trash what Mars Jemes is 
 picked up on de street in New York. What for he 
 send us sech w'ite folks, hea? No 'count w'ite 
 buckra ! I tell you, Sandy, yourn day of re j 'icing 
 is done gone. You might as well go hang your harp 
 on de willow tree, cayse dat cotton planter whip
 
 32 THE RED MOON 
 
 strapped sidewise ober your shoulder is to be un- 
 strapped. Mars Jemes is hear tell of some of yourn 
 fool idea about freedom. You a jet black crow 
 now a talking 'bout de time when you'll be free, 
 and a snow white dove! Sandy, yonder is a sheep 
 dog to guard dis place," and she tilts her turbaned 
 head in the direction of Mr. Wallis Bickers. " I 
 neber did hab no use for Yankees; dey don't 
 understand we colored folks like we's massa and 
 missus " 
 
 Sandy's downcast expression indicates plainly 
 that he is of his wife's opinion; yet with the old- 
 time intuitive respect for the white race, he doffs 
 his hat to the man who is to supersede him, while 
 deep in his heart there surge emotions which he 
 wisely suppresses. 
 
 After the New Year, an aged brother joins Mrs. 
 Bickers, and the three live on the " fat of the land." 
 
 " Granny Kitty's " wrath grows more intense, 
 and she indignantly declares : " Missus up in New 
 York wid all her money neber has sech suffusion of 
 victuals ! Turkeys an' chickens ain't got no time to 
 grow, wid dat w'ite 'oman a ordering my Zenas to 
 chop off de,ir heads. De Lord only knows what ole' 
 Massa would say if he could rise from he grave an' 
 see dese poor w'ite folks a gallavantin' up and down 
 at Sterlingate, an' a going to drive in Massa's fine 
 carriage, jest de same as if it is dey own. My
 
 1860 TO 1865 33 
 
 Lord, how my blood biles! yet both me an' Sandy 
 is 'bleeged to keep we mouth shet tight. I t'inks a 
 powerful lot o' nights." 
 
 The years pass, and Colonel Furgerson's predic- 
 tion as to civil war comes true. Formerly an of- 
 ficer in a Virginia regiment, he closes his New York 
 office, and hastens to his native State to offer his 
 services in the Southern army. His wife and chil- 
 dren remain North. Bidding them good-bye, he 
 assures them: "We will annihilate the Northern 
 troops, drive them into the sea. Look out for me 
 very soon, with the victor's plume in my helmet." 
 
 The word " soon " echoes and re-echoes in the 
 gloom of Mrs. Furgerson's Fifth Avenue home. 
 When New York is decked with bunting to cele- 
 brate a victory, Mrs. Furgerson instead bows her 
 windows, as is customary in Philadelphia after a 
 death in the family. 
 
 Four years of bitter conflict pass before the 
 bonnie blue flag of the Confederacy is furled, never 
 more to lead brave soldiers to battle.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ALICE GREY 
 
 The whispering shell is mute 
 
 And often is evil cheer; 
 She shall stand on the shore and cry in vain 
 
 Many and many a year. 
 
 HOWELLS. 
 
 ALBINA has matured rapidly since we left her be- 
 side the Western sea. With wealth at her com- 
 mand, she adheres to her purpose of helping the 
 downtrodden, lifting the fallen. 
 
 After repeated refusals, she gains her parents' 
 consent to go East and do what she can for the 
 suffering soldiers. There under the care of her 
 aunt she devotes her time to reading for the con- 
 valescent in the hospitals ; it matters not if they be 
 Northern or Southern soldiers. 
 
 The end of the war finds many sick and wounded, 
 needing the soothing influence of woman, a few of 
 whom are doomed never to return to their families. 
 Their eyes follow Albina as she passes back and 
 forth in the wards. She has neither beauty of face 
 nor form, and \ it is the magnetism of her deep-set 
 
 34
 
 ALICE GREY 35 
 
 brown eyes that brings others to her feet, ready 
 and willing to do her bidding. Young as she is, 
 her life is dedicated to charitable work. Womanly 
 love fills her heart and makes her equally kind to 
 all, whether they wear the blue or the grey. 
 
 It is when in this noble work of ministering to 
 the sick and suffering that Albina comes in touch 
 with Mr. Wallis Bickers of Dayton, Ohio, the town 
 from which her father and mother came. In fact, 
 Wallis Bickers remembers that, as a mere lad, he 
 joined in the fun of showering rice over a couple 
 starting West in a covered wagon, who were none 
 other than Albina's father and mother. This fact 
 opens the doors to a new friendship. 
 
 Albina ministers daily to two soldiers, Munroe by 
 name; one, an officer wearing the blue, the other, a 
 boy who glories in the thought that his uniform is 
 grey. His last bugle has sounded for taps, and he 
 never will buckle on the sword of which he is proud. 
 Through Albina'.s keen insight she discovers that 
 the Munroes are brothers, but neither knows of the 
 other's presence under the same roof. Paul Mun- 
 roe, the elder, with tears in his eyes, now confides to 
 Albina that he recognized his youngest brother on 
 the field of battle at Appomattox, as with a plunge 
 forward he rushed into the Confederate lines with 
 bayonet fixed. With the natural love of a brother 
 over-riding every other feeling, he quickly threw
 
 36 THE RED MOON 
 
 down his gun, and tried to stay the flow of blood 
 from a wound made by his keen sword, and while 
 doing so, received a bullet from his own company 
 which shattered his leg. Each day Albina bears 
 loving messages from one to the other, and she holds 
 the hand of the boy in grey as he passes beyond the 
 Sentinel at the gateway of death. Later, .she essays 
 to soothe the pangs of regret in the bosom of the 
 officer doomed to hobble on crutches for the rest of 
 his life. 
 
 As yet, no Confederate soldier is willing to admit 
 that he is whipped; he is overpowered, that is all. 
 But descendants of Colonial aristocrats, in whose 
 veins flows the bluest of blue blood, now have their 
 iron will sorely tried. Accustomed to luxury, they 
 must now break the fetters that bind them to a life 
 of ease, and lay hold of the plough-handle of man- 
 ual labor. So only can they hope to rise above the 
 ruin and devastation of war, which has reduced 
 their homes to ashes, with chimney stacks pointing, 
 like the Sphinx of Egypt, to the splendors of the 
 past. 
 
 The burning words of their great chieftain con- 
 tinue to ring in their ears: "We have fought this 
 fight as long and as well as we know how. We 
 have been defeated. For us, as Christian people, 
 there is but one course to pursue. We must accept 
 the situation."
 
 ALICE GREY 37 
 
 Before the grass grows over the graves of their 
 fathers and brothers, the women of the South, once 
 belles of the drawing-room, enter the kitchen. With 
 their sleeves rolled up, they follow Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds' recipe, and " mix edibles with brains." En- 
 gaged in these homely duties, they sing the " Lore- 
 lei " or some other love song, and, in fact, even 
 stand under marriage bells with poverty as their 
 only inheritance. 
 
 When the young gather about the fabled fount 
 to drink, they forget that, like Marah's well, the 
 water may some day be bitter. Love is not easily 
 discouraged by adverse circumstances, nor is Cupid 
 averse to poverty, even absolute want. 
 
 There is, however, another form of love which is 
 not entangled in the fairy web of a sybarite, and 
 it is this disinterested love that actuates Albina to 
 leave wealth and home to devote her life to char- 
 itable work. When the citizens of Boston call for 
 volunteer teachers to go South to teach the negroes, 
 Albina promptly sends in her name, and is assigned 
 to a little log-cabin school in Fairfax County, Vir- 
 ginia, some three miles from Stirlingate, where 
 Wallis Bickers is in charge of hired laborers on 
 Colonel Furgerson's estate. 
 
 At this time untutored colored men are hurled on 
 to the platform of untried duties, and by a strange 
 fatality were granted the franchise. Is it any won-
 
 38 THE RED MOON 
 
 der that these illiterate men wear the cap of free- 
 dom with a comical mien? Or is it surprising that 
 the voices of their former masters cry out for shame, 
 when their slaves by a powerful turn of the political 
 wheel are elected to seats in the halls of Southern 
 legislatures to formulate State laws of which they 
 know absolutely nothing? 
 
 It is at this trying period that Albina Baxter 
 arrives in Virginia, and renews her acquaintance 
 with Wallis Bickers. Isolated as she is by her 
 chosen work, which debars her from meeting refined 
 Southern ladies, she turns to Mrs. Bickers for com- 
 panionship, and thereafter is a frequent visitor at 
 Stirlingate. This colonial home in every way ful- 
 fills her ideas of the South's old ancestral home- 
 steads. 
 
 The dwelling is a spacious one, with a twelve- 
 foot piazza running around the house, and .sup- 
 ported by massive stone pillars in Corinthian de- 
 sign. The wide piazza effectively protects the 
 rooms from the summer sun, and also from the fury 
 of winter storms. Of an evening, when the moon 
 silvers every object, it is an ideal promenade. What 
 is more natural than that Albina and Wallis should 
 spend happy hours there, their friendship each day 
 becoming more binding? 
 
 Roses clamber in luxurious abandon about the 
 pillars. Though unpruned, uncared for, they are
 
 ALICE GREY 39 
 
 laden with blooms. The old-fashioned boxwood bor- 
 ders of the garden, once a joy to successive owners, 
 is trodden under foot by the heel of the late in- 
 vaders. The kitchen garden in the rear shows lov- 
 ing care. " Granny Kitty " and her helpers are 
 convinced that some day " Missus " will come from 
 New York, and will need chickens and vegetables. 
 The rearing of poultry, and cultivating of the gar- 
 den is a self-imposed duty she assumes, while her 
 husband, Sandy, is hired to till the .soil. Her son, 
 Zenas, is warned never to wring off the heads of 
 chickens or turkeys save by her command. She says : 
 " If dat white 'oman in Massa's house is got to eat 
 fowl meat, she kin buy an' clean dem herself. Us 
 don't mean to raise fowls for her to eat." 
 " Granny " is staunchly loyal to her white " chil- 
 lens," as she calls Colonel Furgerson's family, hav- 
 ing been a slave of the Colonel's father. 
 
 The old homestead of Stirlingate bears the scars 
 not only of Northern bullets but also of the War 
 of 1812, when the Tories entered the mansion and 
 chopped into an old-fashioned massive mahogany 
 bureau drawer to secure silver and jewels. 
 
 Impoverished nobility of the Old World often find 
 it difficult to maintain their ancestral estates, and 
 now but for the energy of its present owner, Stir- 
 lingate would totter to its ruin; this beautiful 
 house that General Lee made his headquarters, and
 
 40 THE RED MOON 
 
 from the upper enthroned balcony looked down upon 
 his soldiers bivouacked in the meadows. Here in 
 the evening fireflies hold high carnival, and at the 
 midnight hour mocking-birds trill their impassioned 
 love songs. 
 
 Beyond, and sweeping off toward the blue hills, 
 is a wealth of dark forest trees, the middle distance 
 a cultivated area of corn. 
 
 " Father Time " and his truant son, the " Tide," 
 wait for no man. Is it any wonder that with such 
 environment Wallis Bickers " makes hay while the 
 sun shines," and seizes upon the present moment to 
 win a trusting heart, before its owner realizes that 
 her feelings are those of love? 
 
 Beneath a bower of cloth of gold roses, and the 
 soft light of a crescent moon, Albina and Wallis 
 Bickers plight their troth, and he calls her his 
 " California poppy," a name dear to her. 
 
 Albina now laughs at the prediction of the In- 
 dian squaw. The petty cares of her school dwindle 
 into insignificance when her lover spends his even- 
 ings with her, and in the morning she sees her sun 
 rise with golden tints, and not in the least like a 
 great red moon. She feels that she can bear more 
 than the seven trials marked out for her, if only 
 Wallis holds her hand. Day by day they plan for 
 their future, as if neither could die. 
 
 Scarce a year has passed when Colonel Furgerson
 
 ALICE GREY 41 
 
 pays a hurried visit to Stirlingate to consult his 
 manager about a project he has in mind. 
 
 A large mill owner in England, a friend of Major 
 Patterson, is in possession of a rare package of 
 cotton seed, that produces a delicate pink fibre. 
 Cloth woven from its long and durable staple shows 
 the sheen of silk, the soft flexibility of wool, and 
 the ravishing color of a peach blossom. How these 
 seeds were purloined from the descendants of the 
 Pharaohs of Egypt is a carefully guarded secret, 
 as for centuries this plant has been the exclusive 
 property of the Crown ; and a penalty of death is 
 said to await any one who cultivates it outside the 
 royal domain. 
 
 America, a free country, is not under the tyrannic 
 power of an Eastern potentate, and the climate of 
 England not being warm enough to mature the 
 cotton plant, Mr. Lathan offers the package of 
 seeds to Major Patterson. As he possesses no cot- 
 ton land, he passes the offer on to Colonel Furger- 
 son, suggesting that he make an effort to grow this 
 singular but certainly money-producing plant. 
 
 The Colonel proposes to Wallis Bickers that a,s 
 soon as the crops are laid by for the summer, he 
 shall cross the ocean and secure the precious pack- 
 age of seed, for it is only to be delivered person- 
 ally. Wallis consents, and on August the 31st sails 
 from New York.
 
 42 THE RED MOON 
 
 The sloping terraces on Staten Island are ablaze 
 with summer's gayest blossoms, making brilliant 
 glimpses of color to blend with the waters of the 
 bay that are calm and unruffled. Wallis enjoys the 
 sea, and each day of the voyage writes a few lines 
 to his beloved Albina. A rambling letter, he posts 
 it in Queenstown. A few extracts reveal his state 
 of mind. 
 
 " SEPTEMBER 3rd MID-OCEAN. 
 
 " Darling Albina, life would be a dream of bliss 
 were you beside me. This, my first voyage, is ideal. 
 I spend many hours peering over the rails, for there 
 is a fascination about the waves with the Portu- 
 guese men of war atop, their fin-like sails set. The 
 water is clear and I'm wondering if countless dead 
 lie entombed below, shrouded in clinging seaweed 
 and guarded by silvery fish that glide in and out 
 among the beds of coral. It is said scarce a ripple 
 disturbs the sleep of those who go down into the 
 depths of the sea. Why is it, then, that the human 
 heart instinctively shudders at the mere suggestion 
 of such a grave? 
 
 " But, I must not write of sad thoughts. My one 
 longing is to embrace you, my precious little Cali- 
 fornia poppy ** 
 
 "SEPT. 8th. 
 
 " Strange but true that before I set foot on land, 
 I am already counting the weeks and the days till
 
 ALICE GREY 43 
 
 I shall be with you again. I cannot live without 
 you, for you are essential to my happiness. Life is 
 a blank without your presence. Write to your par- 
 ents and gain their consent to be my wife as soon 
 as I return to the States. 
 
 " Day by day I picture your frail young form in 
 the schoolroom, surrounded by a stupid odoriferous 
 crowd of negroes, and every fibre of my being re- 
 volts at this self-sacrifice. Colonel Furgerson is 
 really correct when he .says that the Southern ne- 
 groes will never be more content and happy than 
 when the slaves of their masters. 
 
 " Darling Albina, give up this self-imposed work 
 of teaching. Leave it to be performed by ' the phil- 
 anthropic Bostonians.' ' 
 
 " SEPT. 9th. 
 
 " We have just sighted the Emerald Isle. What 
 a thrill of joy we all experienced at the tinge of 
 green on God's beautiful earth, even though it be 
 still some distance away. I am closing this to post 
 at Queenstown. Longing to have a letter from my 
 darling Albina, I am ever her devoted lover, 
 
 " WALLIS." 
 
 " SEPT. 14th. 
 
 " I visited, to-day, the large mills of Mr. Ernest 
 Lathan, at Lancaster, who has already delivered to 
 me the package of precious cotton seed. He has
 
 44 THE RED MOON 
 
 also presented me with two beautiful English dogs. 
 One for the Colonel, a greyhound, and a jet black 
 water spaniel named Beauty, which I shall present 
 to you. She will soon be as devoted to her mistress 
 as I am. 
 
 " I am deeply impressed with the home life of this 
 rich Englishman. His house is surrounded by high 
 stone walls, against which are interlaced fruit trees 
 and grape vines, with here and there a -stunted mag- 
 nolia bush. I tried to describe the magnolia trees 
 in the forests of America to Mr. Lathan. 
 
 " Within the walls of his grounds it is difficult to 
 imagine that a busy city lies just outside. In fact, 
 my head is still dizzy with the hum of the spindles 
 in his large factory, which is near at hand. 
 
 " By invitation I dined with him, and was pre- 
 sented to his wife and daughters ; rosy-cheeked girls, 
 but neither of them has the sweet charm of manner, 
 the simple grace of my darling Albina, whose eyes 
 even here follow me with their depth of true feeling. 
 
 " Your first letter reached me this morning, and 
 I kissed impulsively the words your heart indited 
 and pen wrote. 
 
 " To-morrow I leave for a hurried glance at the 
 metropolis, spending a few hours at Manchester and 
 Birmingham. 
 
 " God bless you, my precious California flower, 
 the sweetest flower that ever bloomed in earth's gar-
 
 ALICE GREY 45 
 
 den. And to think it is for me overpowers me with 
 gratitude! Your devoted WALLIS." 
 
 " MOBXEY'S HOTEL, LONDON, 
 
 " SEPT. 28th. 
 
 " I should enjoy this busy city of London if you 
 were only with me. I am very lonely and homesick 
 at times, and fully appreciate the idea of the poet, 
 that one is never more alone than when in the midst 
 of a crowd. 
 
 " However, there are a number of Americans in 
 this hotel, and as they are universally sociable, I 
 hope soon to become acquainted." 
 
 " SEPT. 29th. 
 
 " To-day I had the great pleasure of seeing Her 
 Majesty the Queen. It happened in this wise: Last 
 evening I enjoyed a short conversation with a Mrs. 
 Grey and her daughter, Miss Alice. They are from 
 Chicago, and informed me that the Queen would 
 pass Hyde Park corner at three o'clock and then 
 drive in the park. With pity for my ignorance of 
 localities they kindly offered me a seat in their car- 
 riage. I accepted with profound gratitude. 
 
 " They have cheered me greatly. Miss Alice Grey 
 is very bright and witty, in fact, captivating, and 
 reminds me somewhat, in the tones of her voice, of 
 my dear Albina. Miss Grey is considered one of
 
 46 THE RED MOON 
 
 the most stylishly dressed women in the hotel. She 
 is really a beauty. 
 
 " However, dear Albina, it matters not what 
 women I meet; you will ever be the choice pearl of 
 my love, the little California poppy that blooms in 
 the warmest, cosiest corner of my heart. 
 
 " Your devoted WALIJS B." 
 
 "OcT. 2nd. 
 
 " I am sure you will be pleased to know how much 
 Mrs. Grey and Miss Alice are adding to my enjoy- 
 ment of London. They allow me to accompany 
 them in their rounds of sight-seeing, and to-day 
 they honored me by being my guest for a drive in 
 Hyde Park. You may be sure I secured a fine turn- 
 out. 
 
 " Miss Alice has large, soft, brown eyes like those 
 dreamy eyes one sees in the heads of young seals, 
 eyes that seem to cling for comfort to those who 
 have the privilege of gazing into their depths. She 
 will make some man's home a happy one. She and 
 her mother expect to sail for America about the date 
 I have fixed upon, and I cannot but hope they will 
 select the same ship. It is so pleasant to have ac- 
 quaintances aboard. I have suggested it to them. 
 
 "I neglected to mention in my last that although 
 we had a fine view of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, 
 she did not impress me as being one whit queenly in
 
 ALICE GREY 47 
 
 appearance, not so majestic in outward carriage as 
 the young Chicago lady vis-a-vis. However, we felt 
 a queer kind of sensation in looking into the face 
 of a bona fide queen, one of whom since our child- 
 hood we have read. 
 
 " Your devoted WALLIS B." 
 
 "2 P. M. 
 
 " P. S. I close this letter rather hurriedly as 
 Mrs. Grey is in the writing-room awaiting her 
 daughter. They are going to the National Gallery 
 and allow me to join them. It is pleasant to view 
 pictures with those who are artistically inclined. 
 Miss Alice has been studying art in Paris." 
 
 " 6 P. M. 
 
 " I must hurry, as it is time for dinner. My new- 
 found friends have kindly invited me to sit at their 
 private table instead of the table d'hote. To a 
 stranger this latter is tiresome in the extreme. 
 
 " Your loving WALLIS B." 
 
 " OCTOBER 18th, 7 o'ck p. M. 
 
 " Here in London the hours slip by rapidly and 
 I have little time to write you, darling. Mrs. Grey 
 and Miss Alice are my guests this evening to see 
 one of the greatest living actors play at Drury 
 Lane Theatre. I have booked my passage by the
 
 48 THE RED MOON 
 
 steamship Dorogan, which sails from Liverpool Oc- 
 tober 22nd." 
 
 " 12 P. M. 
 
 " P. S. We have just returned from the theatre. 
 The play was fine and Miss Alice bewitching in a 
 pale grey evening silk. I am sure you would like 
 her, she is so unaffected and simple. 
 
 " Good-night, and good-bye, dear Albina. This 
 of necessity must be my last letter, as I sail by the 
 next outward-bound ship. Pray earnestly for your 
 own WALLIS B."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK 
 
 " But the stately wide-winged ship lies wrecked, 
 
 Lies wrecked on the unknown deep: 
 Far under, dead in his coral bed 
 
 The lover lies asleep." HOWELLS. 
 
 THE Dorogan leaves the docks of Liverpool with 
 a heavy mist hugging the water's edge. The great 
 ship moves sluggishly, as if loth to quit the har- 
 bor. Gradually the massive buildings of the city 
 are enveloped in clouds of fog and lost to view. 
 Involuntarily Wallis Bickers contrasts the brilliant 
 sunshine of New York harbor with the chilling gloom 
 of the English coast at noon. Beads of moisture 
 settle on his topcoat, and seem to chill his heart, 
 yet he really is happy at the thought of the home- 
 ward voyage, and comforts himself that after the 
 mists will come sunshine, for he recalls the trip over, 
 when scarce a white-cap wave was seen; however, 
 the date of the equinox is at hand, when adverse 
 winds may toss the ship from side to side. An 
 unaccountable .sensation of sadness mingles with the 
 joy of his return. Is it fear that grips his heart- 
 strings as he watches the grimy old houses of Liver- 
 pool grow dim and dimmer? To seaward sky and 
 
 49
 
 50 THE RED MOON 
 
 water blend their mists and obliterate the horizon. 
 Thinking of home, a patriotic surge of feeling fires 
 his heart; his cheeks glow and his eyes sparkle over 
 the thought of once more seeing the green slopes 
 of the harbor of New York. The sea murmurs in 
 its restless onrush, and overhead the winds sigh and 
 moan in the ropes and canvas. This soothes Wallis. 
 He walks back and forth, living over the pleasures 
 of his short trip abroad, where he has mingled with 
 traveled people, and is convinced that he can never 
 again undertake the humdrum life of an overseer, 
 even in such an ideal place as Stirlingate. " I must 
 locate where my future wife can enjoy advantages 
 to which .she is entitled." Dwelling on these serious 
 thoughts, he is attracted by the voices of a bevy 
 of young girls in merry mood. 
 
 " I say, Alice, what are you to do? I would sue 
 that London tailor for negligence. He has your 
 money and your coat besides." 
 
 A fair-haired girl, with a roguish twinkle in her 
 eyes, takes up the subject. " I'd make him dance 
 to the tune of one hundred dollars' damages. My 
 papa wouldn't lose a day; he'd put the case in the 
 hands of a lawyer. That's the way we do things in 
 Chicago." 
 
 The girls surround Alice to know definitely what 
 she intends to do. Modestly she replies : " Really, 
 girls, I would not mind if it were any other part
 
 THE SHIPWRECK 51 
 
 of my trousseau, but that jacket belongs to my 
 traveling-gown, and I have promised to marry di- 
 rectly we arrive in New York, before my fiance must 
 leave for the South. Now, what shall I do ? " 
 
 Then she whisks herself around, saying with de- 
 termination : " I will not marry until my new j acket 
 comes." Unexpectedly, she narrowly escapes flirt- 
 ing herself into Wallis Bickers's arms as he advances. 
 Wallis and Alice Grey both flush crimson. Why? 
 
 Wallis excuses himself, passes a few pleasant re- 
 marks, and slips away to master his sudden emo- 
 tion at meeting the young woman who has added 
 so much to his trip abroad. He seats himself on a 
 coil of rope beside the mizzenmast, and watches the 
 sun going down, uniting the overhanging clouds 
 with a promise of coming glory, a bright sunset. 
 Soon the great red ball dips behind the rolling 
 waves, in coquettish fashion rising and playing hide 
 and seek, then, like a winged archer, rides the silver- 
 crested expanse of water before disappearing for the 
 night, leaving an assurance, after the darkness of 
 night there will be light, a blaze of glory. 
 
 Wallis walks across the deck, seeking the silver 
 lining of amber and gold that interlines every cloud. 
 Instead, there comes over the sea a death-like pallor 
 as the curtain of night draws together, leaving in 
 the swinging canopy overhead one lone star that 
 glitters and sparkles; then,
 
 52 THE RED MOON 
 
 " Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of 
 
 Heaven, 
 
 Blossom the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of 
 the angels." 
 
 Wallis is deeply moved by this weird change from 
 brilliant sunshine to the soft light of early night. 
 This dance of joy by the red sun, so soon followed 
 by funereal gloom, this the intermingling of the 
 power of the Almighty with the natural forces of 
 sea and air. 
 
 Surcharged as his heart is with a feeling of awe, 
 a sensation akin to dread permeates his mind. He 
 sits musing over the singular prophecy once pro- 
 nounced over the cradle of Albina Baxter. Again 
 and again he asks himself, " Can one frail woman 
 bear seven trials without being broken in spirit? " 
 
 Restless in body as well as in mind, he hurriedly 
 walks to and fro, and finds Alice Grey, wrapped 
 like a mummy, and pinioned in her steamer chair to 
 the deck. She is making desperate efforts to resist 
 the sickening effects of the rocking -ship. She has 
 often boasted that she is a good sailor. 
 
 So strong is the influence of some women that 
 each time Wallis passes the lovely Alice Grey his 
 ambition is stimulated, and he determines to seek a 
 wider field wherein to fulfil his aspirations, not the 
 circumscribed life he leads at Stirlingate, egging on
 
 THE SHIPWRECK 53 
 
 to work a number of shiftless negroes. The trip 
 abroad has opened an avenue of new ideas, new as- 
 pirations. Before long the decks are quite deserted, 
 as reeling passengers hurry to their cabins, wishing 
 they had never left the safety and comfort of terra- 
 firma. The gloomy dread of a long night is occa- 
 sionally appeased by the cheery voice of the watch- 
 man aloft crying " All's well ! " 
 
 Wallis is a good sailor and with firm .step seeks 
 his berth with a prayer on his lips. 
 
 " Thou who madest the heavens, the sun, moon 
 and stars, who holds the ocean in the hollow of 
 Thy hand, grant us," he emphasizes the pronoun, 
 " grant us a safe voyage ! " He sleeps, but 
 dreams of the loved ones at home. So real is his 
 dream, he smells the odor of late blooming roses at 
 Stirlingate, and listens to the last dying notes of 
 the impassioned mocking-birds ; he sees once more 
 the sloping shores of Staten Island, and notices that 
 the summer flowers have faded; in place thereof on 
 tree-limb and hedgerow is thrown a covering of au- 
 tumnal gold, scarlet, and russet brown. Suddenly 
 a wave dashes against the port-hole of his cabin, 
 and awakens him. 
 
 Up from the east rises the conqueror of darkness, 
 gleaming like a red moon in the sea mists ; each 
 white-capped wave tinted with blue, orange, red and 
 saffron.
 
 54 THE RED MOON 
 
 Day by day, the great ship moves on over the un- 
 beaten ocean track. With favorable winds she will 
 soon enter her port. Sailors are busy cleaning and 
 painting, in readiness for the inspector. 
 
 During the voyage Wallis has spent many pleas- 
 ant hours beside the winsome Alice Grey of Chi- 
 cago. She is now a good sailor, and has entirely 
 put from her mind the disappointment about her 
 gown. She hesitates to upset the plans of the one 
 man in the world she believes is foreordained to be 
 her husband. He who came into touch with her at 
 the very moment when heart and soul were ready 
 to respond to his love. There could be no chance in 
 their meeting. 
 
 The Dorogan has made good speed and will prob- 
 ably land her passengers in less than thirty-six 
 hours. The glass points " variable," and knowing 
 ones shake their heads with dread; they note that 
 the captain is silent and taciturn. The wind veers 
 round to west and northwest, and blows with great 
 velocity. 
 
 The light-hearted Alice Grey, jesting of the 
 glories of a storm at sea, exacts from Wallis Bickers 
 a promise to save her, should a gale arise and the 
 ship be wrecked. And thus they plan and banter, the 
 one with the other, over a disaster that neither sup- 
 poses will come to pass. The old ship Dorogan has 
 withstood many a fierce wind; she is nearly at her
 
 THE SHIPWRECK 55 
 
 journey's end, and will bring them to New York 
 within the next day or night. 
 
 Wallis promises faithfully to do his best to rescue 
 Alice, if she in turn consents to rescind a determina- 
 tion made on account of the non-arrival of a part 
 of her traveling-gown. Again they both flush crim- 
 son, and the resolution remains undecided. She will 
 let him know her decision later. 
 
 Wallis Bickers goes below to care for his dumb 
 pets chained to a ring in the floor, while the wind 
 howls and shakes the ship from stem to stern. 
 " Beauty," the water spaniel, with a bound of de- 
 light, springs forward to greet her master, then 
 raising her head, sends forth a piteous howl, which, 
 in dog fashion, expresses the animal's instinct of 
 coming danger. " Danger ahead, eh, Beauty? " and 
 the dog licks the hand that strokes her silky, shaggy 
 side. The ship rocks and rolls in the trough of the 
 sea, and to give the dogs a chance to save them- 
 selves, Wallis unfastens the fetters from their necks, 
 and while doing this a sudden flash of light pene- 
 trates down deep into the hold of the ship ; as over- 
 head the deck is swept by the force of waves that 
 sound like the rattle of artillery. In quick succes- 
 sion comes flash after flash with the roar of thun- 
 der. Shorter and shorter are the intervals between 
 lurid streaks of lightning and thunderbolts. Wallis 
 hurries up the gangway^ with his mute friends fol-
 
 56 THE RED MOON 
 
 lowing, and realizing the danger, he recalls his 
 promise to Alice Grey. He seeks her with a life 
 buoy in hand, and while on this search a vivid glare 
 and a crash show that the mast is struck and shiv- 
 ered. 
 
 Sailors, like automatic figures, hurry hither and 
 thither, and in the weird darkness look like emis- 
 saries of the devil who have boarded the ship to 
 complete her destruction. These men are implic- 
 itly obeying the commands of the captain, who 
 stands firmly on the bridge, while the ship lurches 
 from side to side, at each dip shipping a volume 
 of water. The captain's voice is clear and ringing 
 and inspires hope, despite the din of shrieking women 
 and crying children. 
 
 However, in the confusion another alarm rings 
 out which pierces every heart with dread. From all 
 sides comes the cry, " Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! " 
 
 With calmness the first officer musters his fire 
 brigade. The pumps! strain to their utmost ca- 
 pacity, groaning and creaking like living things. 
 Buckets of water swing from hand to hand, and still 
 tongues of fire leap fore and aft. The ship seems 
 doomed, and in this scene of horror and confusion 
 the captain's stern command extinguishes the last 
 ray of hope in the bosom of both passengers and 
 crew : " Man the life-boats ! " 
 
 This indicates that the ship is to be abandoned,
 
 THE SHIPWRECK 57 
 
 although she is but twenty-four hours from New 
 York. 
 
 While assisting women and children into the life- 
 boats, Wallis scans each face, hoping to find the 
 beautiful Chicago girl, whom he has promised to 
 save in case of shipwreck. Presently, with a shriek 
 of pain, she rushes into his arms, crying : " Save me, 
 oh, save me! " He jerks off his coat and wraps it 
 about her burning dress, as the .steamer plunges for- 
 ward and they are both swept overboard by a wave. 
 Wallis sinks like a leaden weight, but the buoyance 
 of a life-belt that encircles him brings him to the 
 surface, and he seems poised on air-bubbles. Scarce 
 knowing what he does, he spreads his arms to swim. 
 He mastered the principle of keeping above water in 
 his boyhood, but paddling about in an old pond is 
 unlike withstanding the fury of ocean waves lashed 
 by the force of a storm. 
 
 From every side come cries for help, but there is 
 not an arm long enough to assist poor, struggling 
 human beings knocked about like feathers before the 
 wind. 
 
 The hissing of burning timbers, and the roar of 
 fire, quiets down suddenly as the great ship sinks 
 to her doom. 
 
 In mute devotion to her master, Beauty, the water 
 spaniel, swims to Wallis's side. He welcomes her 
 with a shout. " Beauty, find her ! " Then, over the
 
 58 THE RED MOON 
 
 roar of waves, he cries : " Alice Grey, where are 
 you? Cling to me, let me save you! " There is no 
 reply, only now and again a flash of light, as .some 
 portion of the burning, floating spars make the 
 night more impenetrably black. 
 
 This battle with the waves is a severe test of 
 human endurance, pitted against insurmountable 
 difficulties. Wallis is still above water, and as wave 
 after wave dashes over his head he feels something 
 grip his foot. Despite the buoyancy of his life- 
 preserver, this monster of the deep, as he supposes 
 it to be, threatens to drag him down. Instinctively 
 he struggles to be free. With a mighty effort, Wal- 
 lis rides the crest of a wave, as a flash of light 
 reveals a woman clinging to his feet. It is Alice 
 Grey. In piteous accents she cries : " Save me, oh, 
 God ! I can't hold another moment." 
 
 With heroic effort Wallis clutches her outspread 
 arm, and draws it within the circle of his life-belt, 
 saying, " Do not struggle, for if you do we must 
 both go down." 
 
 Alice recognizes his voice and cries, " You prom- 
 ised to save me ! " 
 
 " I'll do my best, only try to be brave. Help 
 may come with the morning light. I have my arm 
 over a floating spar." 
 
 Alice Grey is soothed. She believes if any one 
 in the world can save her, he can, he so manly and 
 brave.
 
 THE SHIPWRECK 59 
 
 And supported, buoyed up by the life-preserver, 
 her natural powers relax, while she imagines her 
 mother's arms are about her. The angry sea kisses 
 her purple lips, that with childish simplicity mur- 
 mur, " Hold me tight, please " ; then she swoons into 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 Wallis, almost exhausted, clings to his burden, 
 limp and buffeted by the waves, for there is nothing 
 he can do to revive Alice. As the hours pass, he 
 reads page after page of his short life written with 
 the indelible point of memory, line after line aglow 
 with visions of happiness, when he shall clasp the 
 woman of his choice to his heart and claim her as 
 his bride. 
 
 In a mere instant of time, we are told, at death 
 our thoughts often traverse and retraverse the 
 beaten track of our past, hedged in at one turn by 
 love or hatred, joy or sorrow, hope or fear. 
 
 And thus it happens the clear morning light rises 
 above the horizon like a great red ball of fire, blind- 
 ing Wallis, whose strength is well-nigh exhausted. 
 He tightens his grip of the girl he holds, and he 
 seems to see great black lines against the sun with 
 these words, " Prepare to meet thy God," as if 
 written with the sharp point of a great pen. His 
 mortal frame is exhausted, while the emotions of 
 his soul are keen and thrilling.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A WOMAN'S vow 
 
 " Believe me, Sir, 
 
 It carries a rare form, but 'tis a spirit." 
 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 AROUND the mountain heights in Virginia No- 
 vember mists curl and condense into rain. 
 
 The fields are bare, for the gleaning is over; to- 
 bacco leaves hang in close touch for the drying 
 process ; large banks of sweet potatoes are safely 
 covered from frost, waiting the roasting time, when 
 all Southern fireplaces are heaped with glowing 
 oaken coals that roast and mellow the .sweet yams. 
 
 At Stirlingate Mrs. Bickers is making great prep- 
 arations for her son's return. The finest gobbler 
 of the flock is doomed, and in imitation of the old 
 French women in the Place de la Concorde, Paris, 
 Albina promises to drop a stitch in her knitting 
 when a blow of Zenas' hatchet tumbles a gobbler's 
 head into the basket. She is counting the hours 
 before Wallis' ringing whistle will echo in the spa- 
 cious halls. Excited and nervous with expectation, 
 she continues to use her best efforts in teaching her 
 
 60
 
 A WOMAN'S VOW 61 
 
 black pupils. In this excitable mood she tears open 
 a New York paper, sure that the Dorogan has ar- 
 rived. Great headlines flash out : " The Dorogan 
 burned at sea. Only a few passengers saved." 
 
 Dazed and bewildered, she dismisses her scholars 
 for the day, and hastens to Mrs. Bickers for news, 
 but not a word has she heard of the safety of her 
 son. 
 
 Young, and full of hope, Albina convinces herself 
 that Wallis is one of the rescued. She recalls his 
 great muscular strength, and feels sure if any one 
 could ride the waves to safety he has done so. 
 
 As the days follow each other in quick succession, 
 bringing no news, her courage fails, and overwhelm- 
 ing feelings of dread encompass her. The frail 
 reed of hope in her soul is slowly bending to the 
 breaking point. 
 
 Meanwhile, search yachts leave New York har- 
 bor to rescue the survivors of the Dorogan, but their 
 mission ends in disappointment, for they find only 
 lifeless forms drifting with the tide. Securing me- 
 mentoes of the dead, the bodies are consigned to 
 coral couches in the depths of the sea. 
 
 A telegram, slightly blurred, found in a Rus- 
 sian leather bag attached to a young girl's belt, 
 gives the clue to two of the dead. It reads : 
 
 " ALICE. I will join you aboard the Dorogan.
 
 62 THE RED MOON 
 
 I have the precious package, also an English dog 
 for your acceptance." 
 
 "WALLIS B 
 
 " London, Oct. 21st." 
 
 A reporter, Jubal Lane, anxious to increase the 
 sale of his paper, with vivid imagination seizes upon 
 the fact that this girl was found tightly clasped in 
 the arms of a man with a life-preserver about him, 
 cleverly weaves a love story about the incident, and 
 with telling words depicts the thrilling scene on the 
 angry sea ; pictures lips sealed together with the 
 kiss of love in death. 
 
 Albina reads this touching account, her eyes 
 dimmed with tears. The spelling of the name Wallis 
 in the telegram is unusual, and so with a quickened 
 pulse she checks off the six symbols. They spell 
 Bickers. " Wallis Bickers," she exclaims, " my Wal- 
 lis, and Alice Grey he met in London. My Wallis." 
 A hot flush mantles her cheeks as she tries to re- 
 read the account, sure that her eyes have deceived 
 her. " Wallis has forgotten his vows of love to me," 
 she says, slowly, " else, why this telegram to a girl 
 he has known less than a month? 'An English dog 
 for your acceptance.' He has revoked the gift from 
 me, to Alice Grey. She, whose soft brown eyes, and 
 mellow voice reminded of me ! Oh, it cannot be ! 
 I'm dreaming a horrid dream ! " Again, she opens
 
 A WOMAN'S VOW 63 
 
 the crumpled paper, and once more checks off the 
 six symbols on her fingers. " Bickers. Yes, it's true. 
 He also mentions the precious package of cotton 
 seed he crossed the ocean to secure." 
 
 In a frenzy of jealous feeling she dashes the paper 
 from her. " He, the traitor, has been away less 
 than three months, and in that short space has 
 proved false to his vows of love for me. He ! " she 
 almost hisses the pronoun through her teeth. " He 
 the man foolishly believed to be the very soul of 
 honor." 
 
 In the quiet of many sleepless nights, the spiritual 
 influence of her godly mother comes to her like a 
 balm, and she murmurs, " Until the dawn of the 
 millenium women, weak, loving women, will pin their 
 faith to the words of a man ; the idle words of his 
 love. I am no exception." Gradually the color 
 fades from her cheeks and her deep-set brown eyes 
 seem to sink deeper into their sockets. She continues 
 to teach, however, but all enthusiasm for her work 
 has died and she realizes her inertness when her little 
 black maid asks : " Ain't Miss Albina gwine to gib 
 de yaller bird any .seed? He wings is drapped, an' 
 he don't sing no moe." 
 
 Albina has forgotten to feed her pet, the parting 
 gift of Wallis Bickers. 
 
 " Walzie, my sweet Walzie, forgive me ? Walzie, 
 will you sing for me ? " She fills the seed cup with
 
 64 THE RED MOON 
 
 trembling hands, bitter thoughts of her faithless 
 lover filling her heart. Indeed, the sun of her life 
 has gone down, down on the horizon of her hope, 
 and a great red moon of disaster rides ever in view 
 to recall the prediction of the Indian squaw. She 
 dwells on the fact : " I will not need seven trials to 
 break the slender reed of my life. Already my sun 
 has turned to blood, surely there can be no glorious 
 sunset for me." 
 
 In the midst of these cruel and oppressive hours 
 there are moments when her troubled heart again 
 hears her mother's voice, like the gentle breathing 
 of the wind over rushes on the water's edge. A 
 faint hope sometimes steals over her, that perhaps 
 it is fiction. Perhaps, after all, -she thinks, Wallis 
 is safe, and if safe, surely, surely he is true to his 
 vows. 
 
 Mrs. Baxter writes, imploring her daughter to re- 
 sign her duties in the school and come to Santa Bar- 
 bara, where her father has removed from San Fran- 
 cisco. " Come," she writes, " come where the Pacific 
 gently laps the sandy beach and sunshine and roses 
 vie with each other in brilliancy ; where one breathes 
 the refreshing fragrance of pine, mingled with the 
 odor of lemon and orange blossoms, while drowsy 
 honeybees hum their sleepy murmur so calming to 
 tired nerves." 
 
 After a long and wearisome journey Albina
 
 A WOMAN'S VOW 65 
 
 reaches her father's home, bright with flowers. 
 Satan's emissaries continue their efforts to entice her 
 into the abyss of despair, but she determines they 
 shall have a hard battle. Gradually, Albina is con- 
 vinced that Wallis Bickers has not been rescued. 
 With courage born of Christian fortitude, her spirit 
 bows to the inevitable, but does not break. Her 
 mind frequently reverts to the thought of the kiss 
 of love that sealed her lover's lips cold in death. 
 The memory rankles in her heart, and causes her 
 many sleepless nights. The sunlight of perfect 
 peace might be rekindled in her soul with the assur- 
 ance that her lover was true to his vows. 
 
 As the weeks go by, black lines encircle her eyes, 
 and the far-away look that characterized her 
 as a child is intensified, and her parents note this. 
 Sitting under the orange trees, Albina asks with 
 feeling : 
 
 " Mother dear, do you think the cruel heart- 
 burnings I have now will cling to me after death? 
 In Paradise when I meet Wallis and Alice Grey 
 arm in arm, even there will my soul cry out in 
 agony over his faithlessness ? " 
 
 Mrs. Baxter looks up from her father's old Bible 
 open on her lap. " My daughter, has your mother's 
 careful training been of no avail? In this your 
 time of trial do cling to the words of this book." 
 Her voice is full of sympathy while she turns the
 
 66 THE RED MOON 
 
 leaves, saying : " In heaven there is neither hus- 
 band nor lover, but we shall be one in the bosom 
 of the dear Lord and Master." 
 
 " Then, I do not want to go there ! If I'm to 
 be so stupid as not to know my earthly friends from 
 my faithless lover it is no place of joy and peace 
 for me. Do you suppose I could look at Wallis 
 caressing Alice, and not be filled with indignation? 
 No! I could not, nor do I want to." 
 
 Albina plucks the petals from an early blooming 
 rose her father has brought her, and scatters them 
 over her frock. 
 
 Mrs. Baxter remains silent, for in moments of in- 
 tense feeling one's thoughts are best uninterrupted. 
 The mind at rest, the clouds may blow over. 
 
 Day by day, Albina listens to the ebb and flow 
 of the waves, as they wash on the sandy shore in 
 the rear of her father's house. At times lashed into 
 fury by western gales, the incoming tide seems to 
 say, " False, false ; he is false ! " The sea, sun- 
 flecked by day, at night sighs and mourns, and 
 seems to hint that away off in a shell-encrusted 
 cavern of the Atlantic Ocean Wallis Bickers lies en- 
 folding to his bosom Alice Grey. 
 
 With the realization of this crushing truth, the 
 bruised reed of her love bends again almost to the 
 breaking point. There is but one cure for Albina's 
 malady, one chance to restore her equanimity, and
 
 A WOMAN'S VOW 67 
 
 that is in work for others. Her philanthropic mother 
 advises her beloved child to join the Women's Chris- 
 tian Temperance Union, and she consents. 
 
 California's rainy season is about over, and for 
 six months not a drop of rain, not a spray of water 
 will fall to moisten the thirsty earth. For half the 
 year mammoth clouds have emptied themselves in 
 downpours, or in gentle showers ; now, there is to be 
 a time of unremitting sunshine. A perfect spring 
 has followed on the heels of the winter, and Santa 
 Barbara is about to have her first flower show; a 
 Mardi Gras in nature's art, instead of the gay tin- 
 sel of New Orleans' Creole fete. 
 
 The town is thronged with visitors, and the prin- 
 cipal street is a moving mass of human beings, hur- 
 rying from side to side, with baskets of posies, ready 
 for the battle of flowers. Even Jonah Baxter is 
 burdened with an armful of roses. No one enjoys 
 gathering a nosegay of blossoms more than he. Ac- 
 customed now to the climatic peculiarity of his 
 adopted country, he ceases to wonder how vegeta- 
 tion flourishes and flowers bloom without rain. His 
 one anxiety is in regard to the health of his visibly 
 fading " California poppy." She has promised to 
 go with him to witness the carnival of flowers; to 
 see the gayly-decked carriages pass up and down 
 the street with happy occupants enthroned in the 
 midst of their favorite flowers.
 
 68 THE RED MOON 
 
 The morning is perfect, and the air sweet and 
 invigorating. Seaward not a cloud flecks the soft 
 blue sky, and inland the thirsty land glows with a 
 wealth of gold, orange- and lemon-tinted poppies 
 that bloom in wasteful prodigality. 
 
 In a day or two, Albina is to turn her face away 
 from the sweet enchantments of her Western home, 
 and to bend her energy to the work of rescuing the 
 fallen. Surrounded by a babel of evil in the slums 
 of a great city, this work will be trying to one so 
 young, and one with the allurements of wealth to 
 induce idleness. Albina, however, is staunchly loyal 
 to her early determination, the determination that 
 first showed its vital force, when as a child she 
 begged to be allowed to help " Uncle Tom " in his 
 abject misery. The Civil War has unfettered his 
 chains of servitude ; and now she seeks to free others 
 bound by the degrading desire for strong drink, a 
 cruel servitude. 
 
 The hilarity of the flower show is at its height, 
 when, unnoticed, Albina slips away from her father 
 and the crowd. She longs for the quiet of the sea- 
 shore. She is firm in her determination to banish 
 all harrowing recollections of the disaster to the ill- 
 fated Dorogan, when her young life was robbed of 
 its sweet dreams of joy and happiness. Alone, she 
 stands on the shore, gazing westward, where imper- 
 ceptibly sky and water mingle. The tide is creep-
 
 A WOMAN'S VOW 69 
 
 ing treacherously near and nearer to her shoe tips 
 as it caresses the willing sand. 
 
 In a trance of thought, Albina stands lost to the 
 tangible things of earth. Peering through the inde- 
 scribable splendor of the overarched sky, and down 
 beyond the embroidered azure of the horizon that 
 sparkles with the glint of the sun like gleams of 
 gold and yellow, her imagination, enhanced by a 
 spiritual influence, now discerns, as it were, a reef 
 of snow-white coral, and resting as if asleep, lies 
 Wallis. Silvery fish play about his form, and sea- 
 weed drapes his couch, but no fair young creature 
 lies enfolded to his bosom. She strains her eyes to 
 be sure that he lies there alone. Assured of this, 
 she calls aloud : " Wallis ! Wallis ! tell me, are you 
 true to your vows of love for me? Answer me yes, 
 or no. I will be content, whatever it be." 
 
 She listens, and imperceptibly the angels of peace 
 and consecration draw near, and the white-winged 
 throng infuse into Albina's mind a new strength, a 
 strength that nerves her heart, and brings a smile 
 to her sad face. For she feels convinced that her 
 lover is true to his vows. 
 
 Then, Albina, in a trance of joy, kneels upon the 
 soft sand, and lifts her hands to heaven. " Ocean, 
 cease your tireless moan. I would have my beloved 
 Wallis hear my vow. Oh, my God, here in the clear 
 sunlight of love, I dedicate my life and my wealth
 
 70 THE RED MOON 
 
 to the comfort of the sorrowing, the help of the 
 needy. Once flowers bloomed in my earthly garden, 
 but the greedy Atlantic has swallowed up my last 
 hope of happiness. Henceforth my energy shall be 
 used for the benefit of others. O God, keep me as 
 a chosen medium of Thy power." 
 
 In the trees nearby there sounds the twitter of 
 birds consulting over the nest for a coming brood, 
 and suddenly a mighty shout rends the air, as a 
 chorus of rejoicing echoes the acclaim that the blue 
 ribbon decorates the chosen carriage of the carnival 
 of roses.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ALBINA'S FOURTH TRIAL 
 
 " Of all the treasures that God has bestowed upon 
 mankind, sympathy is the purest jewel." 
 
 AFTER many struggles the indomitable pluck of 
 the Western pioneer, coupled with the energy of 
 the East, has encircled America with steel rails. 
 The last spike, a golden one, is driven into place; 
 and the two sections East and West shake hands 
 in rejoicing over the union of their iron roadway. 
 
 At best, railroad traveling is irksome, and Albina, 
 to break the journey, accepts an invitation to spend 
 a month or more with a school friend residing in 
 Chicago, that wonderful city that by magical hands 
 sprang into being in a night. Where Indians once 
 wielded their tomahawks and settlers built their 
 huts, is now a modern city, up to date in vice, as 
 well as prosperity. Good and evil flourish side by 
 side. Albina has quite resolved to locate and begin 
 her chosen work with the Women's Christian Tem- 
 perance Union in this Western city. 
 
 Albina is devotedly attached to her friend's baby 
 boy, Bennie Bowles, for he diverts her mind, and so 
 
 71
 
 72 THE RED MOON 
 
 she prolongs her visit. Mrs. Bowles is constantly 
 " on the go," but she has never prevailed upon her 
 visitor to mingle in her gay life. She prefers to 
 cuddle Bennie in her arms and lull him to sleep 
 with old-time crooning songs learned in Virginia: 
 
 " Oh, my dearest May, 
 You're lovely as the day. 
 Your eyes so bright 
 They shine at night 
 When the moon has gone away. 
 
 (Chorus) 
 
 Then row away, row 
 O'er the water so blue. 
 Like a feather we'll float 
 In our gum-tree canoe." 
 
 The summer has passed rapidly, and it is now 
 the first week of October. From the prairies come 
 hot blasts of air, as if blown from a furnace, in- 
 creasing the concentrated heat of the city. Bennie 
 is feverish, restless, and fretful. Mrs. Bowles, like 
 many other society women, has cast from her the 
 sweetest joy of motherhood, those precious moments 
 when a baby hand rests upon its mother's bosom, and 
 lips like velvet seek the God-given well-springs of 
 life. Bennie is relegated to a foster-mother who 
 but recently arrived from Ireland, and, not being 
 accustomed to the heat of America, is ill. The foot- 
 man goes in search of fresh milk for the baby.
 
 ALBINA'S FOURTH TRIAL 73 
 
 " Good evening, Mistress O'Leary. The little 
 marster is crying, and not even Miss Albina can 
 sing him to sleep. Will you milk me a quart of 
 fresh milk? " 
 
 " Faith and sure it's a late time to be comin' for 
 milk and the night as hot as the devil's kitchen." 
 
 Mrs. O'Leary places her round-globed spectacles 
 on the table, and mops her face with a red hand- 
 kerchief, saying, " It's late to be a-milking, but sure 
 my mother's heart can't let a baby cry for a drop 
 of milk." 
 
 With a milking pail and a small lamp she enters 
 the cow stall. A plaintive Moo! Moo! greets her. 
 On Daisy's nose are beads of moisture, while per- 
 sistdntly she laps her rough tongue into her nostrils ; 
 her tail in constant motion switching the flies from 
 her sides. One unfortunate switch, and over goes 
 the lamp and in an instant the straw is ablaze. 
 
 Church bell after church bell sounds the alarm, 
 for the fire spreads rapidly. From the prairies 
 rushes a hot blast, which, meeting a current of air, 
 lifts sheets of fire from street to street, and they 
 roll about like waves of the sea. The leaves of burn- 
 ing books blow about like falling stars. House after 
 house totters into ruins, sending forth a rumbling 
 sound as of distant thunder, a roar of wild beasts 
 turned loose to riot in exasperated fury. 
 
 From every direction come the screams and cries
 
 74 THE RED MOON 
 
 of human beings, dazed and frantic ; or helpless, and 
 hopeless. In the densely crowded alley-ways where 
 the poor herd like cattle, the bewilderment of the 
 helpless and excitement of the children touch many a 
 stout heart. 
 
 In this veritable carnival of hell many daredevils 
 risk freely their lives with the hope of securing 
 money or valuables, while strong men, suffocated by 
 smoke and hot vapors, leave the richest treasures of 
 home, conscious of but one desire a place of safety. 
 The work of the fire engines is mere child play; 
 and police officers fail to cope with the emissaries 
 of Satan. 
 
 Realizing the danger, Albina hugs little Bennie 
 Bowles to her bosom and seeks his father and mother, 
 without avail. Beside the lake seems the only place 
 one can hope to breathe, and while standing there 
 the distressed voice of a mother startles Albina. Her 
 first thought prompts her to hurry away, but, real- 
 izing her life is dedicated to the relief of the dis- 
 tressed, she gropes in the smoky street, guided by 
 the pleading voice which cries, " Captain, mate, -some 
 one find my daughter. She is lost, and I am man- 
 ning the boat trying to save her." Then, the same 
 voice pleads, "Alice, Alice Grey, answer your 
 mother! Where are you?" Instantly the sting of 
 that green-eyed monster, jealousy, sends the blood 
 tingling through Albina's veins. Only a simple
 
 75 
 
 name, but one closely connected with the crushing 
 of her own fondest hopes in life. 
 
 Finding the woman, Albina whispers in her ear, 
 " Will you be comforted when I tell you Alice is 
 safe? She is where no flames can reach her." 
 
 This comforting assurance is greeted by a mean- 
 ingless laugh. 
 
 " You say she is safe, safe in this blazing fur- 
 nace? She would be safer in mid-ocean. Oh, help 
 me to man the boat. Now then, let us row, row 
 for our lives." 
 
 Gradually, Mrs. Grey's voice grows feeble, and a 
 numbness creeps over her prostrate body, for the 
 candle of life flickers, and the flame goes out for- 
 ever, as she whispers softly, " Alice, Alice dear, we 
 are safe." 
 
 Albina in the meantime has -sought the lake-shore 
 for the safety of the sleeping babe in her arms. She 
 essays to rouse the boy, but Bennie Bowles gives no 
 sign. He is asleep, and will open his eyes in the 
 green pasture lands of Heaven. 
 
 Standing there dumb with amazement, Albina sees 
 the setting sun across the lake gleaming like a red 
 moon through the weird and hazy atmosphere of a 
 great city that is now a heap of glowing coals and 
 desolated homes.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 
 
 " When my heart is crushed with anguish 
 
 And the waters reach the brim; 
 Faith can sing the mighty chorus, 
 Like some glorious battle hymn." 
 
 SIMPSON. 
 
 SOON after Bennie's death Albina leaves Chicago 
 for New York, with the hope that her unstrung 
 nerves may regain vigor. On the horizon of her 
 horoscope, the red moon of her destiny never goes 
 down, never gives a respite, never promises better 
 days when free from trials. 
 
 With the strength of a consecrated life she en- 
 gages in work in the slums of America's greatest 
 city. After some years of work, mentally weary, the 
 natural consequence of her work, she plans to visit 
 her father's home. Varied trials have bent, but not 
 broken, her supple mind; a steadfast faith in God, 
 the anchor sustains her under all circumstances. 
 Daily forgetful of herself, she is ever on the alert, 
 watching the downward career of those who have 
 lost the rudder of their life-boat and must be 
 
 76
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 77 
 
 swamped unless a helping hand is extended to them. 
 Others, she finds plunging headlong into forbidden 
 pleasures. In their garden of life roses once bloomed ; 
 now, their hopes for the future are dead. With deli- 
 cate intuition, too subtle for words, Albina pleads 
 with strong men whose red and swollen eyes betray 
 their besetting sin ; she tries to awaken their minds 
 to touch the chords of love in their memory, with the 
 gentle pleadings of a mother, or a sister's tender 
 words. 
 
 Her plans are finally arranged for a rest at home, 
 away from the greedy hordes of the metropolis, when 
 a telegram announces a tragedy on the peaceful, 
 sun-flecked streets of Santa Barbara. Hastening to 
 her mother's side, she finds that her father has been 
 seriously injured by runaway horses, and thrown 
 against a telegraph pole in front of his beautiful 
 home. 
 
 The metaphorical reed of her life is now bent to 
 the breaking point. With wild pleadings she im- 
 plores her father to call her his " California poppy," 
 but he gives no response. Like the great soul of 
 Stonewall Jackson, he crosses the river, and rests 
 under the shade of the trees of Paradise. 
 
 After some weeks, Albina feels that both her 
 mother and herself need new scenes, new associations. 
 She eventually induces Mrs. Baxter to leave her 
 home where the deadly telegraph pole is ever in
 
 78 THE RED MOON 
 
 sight. They plan to settle permanently in New 
 York. Before leaving, beside her father's newly 
 made grave, Albina renews her vows of dedication 
 to the welfare of others. She is now an heiress, but 
 simple in dress and manners. Not even strangers 
 call her Miss Baxter. It is " Miss Albina," that is 
 all. 
 
 Neither time nor money can ever drown the requiem 
 of her dead hopes, and each year on the anniversary 
 of the sinking of the Dorogan she allows herself to 
 be sad. One evening in the three hundred and sixty- 
 five she permits herself to dwell upon what might 
 have been, but for the red moon of misfortune which 
 follows her. On the morrow she will bravely stifle 
 all reminiscences of the past, with hope that the 
 glorious going down of her sun may be " bright as 
 day" in her work for others. During the bitterly 
 cold months of the winter, and with the advent of 
 spring flowers, she redoubles her energy; nor does 
 her work cease until the heat compels her to seek, 
 with her mother, a respite in the White Mountains. 
 
 Refreshed from their outing, Mrs. Baxter and her 
 daughter are once more in their Madison Avenue 
 home, and shut away in her own room Albina, on 
 the foggy, dismal night of November fifth, gives 
 free scope to her thoughts ; thoughts such as every 
 woman may indulge in ; recalls how in the fervor of 
 a strong love Wallis embraced her in parting, vow-
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 79 
 
 ing to be true to her until death. For the moment 
 not a shadow obscures her faith, her soul is in sweet 
 communion with that of her dead lover; and she con- 
 vinces herself that he was always loyal to her. 
 
 This sad reverie is interrupted by a telegram, 
 which reads : " The ' Wallis Bickers ' cot in the 
 Richmond (Virginia) hospital, endowed by Colonel 
 Furgerson, is occupied, for the first time, by a frail 
 young Southern girl." Later there comes an urgent 
 request for help, a call for Albina to visit a dying 
 man. She follows the young lad who seeks her aid. 
 They go up two flights, into a small room on 
 Eleventh Street, East, near the river, and then she 
 realizes the urgency of the case. The house is dark 
 and cold, and the sound of drunken revelry comes 
 from the rooms below. 
 
 With the unmistakable air of good birth, a woman 
 rises to welcome Albina. This, her only home, has 
 not a comfort, not a handful of coal, and only one 
 small oil stove for cooking and heating purposes. 
 On the table lies a half loaf of stale bread, the re- 
 mains of a hasty supper. Everything shows the 
 most abject poverty, yet shows, too, the care of a 
 refined hand. The utmost neatness and cleanliness 
 prevail. The woman's face is lined with deep fur- 
 rows, evidently not stamped there by the sculpturing 
 hand of time; they reveal the signet of suffering. 
 Though she is yet in the prime of life, her abun-
 
 80 THE RED MOON 
 
 dant hair is snow white. In her arms she holds a 
 golden-haired baby, whose father, by reason of a 
 courteous manner, and gifted pen, was once an orna- 
 ment to society. The victim of an appetite for 
 strong drink, he lies now on a bed of death, in a 
 home of poverty, and he has dragged his wife and 
 child down to poverty. 
 
 It is none other than Jubal Lane, the talented 
 New York newspaper reporter who some years ago 
 graphically depicted the scenes connected with the 
 loss of the Dorogan, and he, too, deciphered the 
 telegram to " Alice." Mr. Lane tries to greet Al- 
 bina, but his tongue is heavy. As the night grows 
 old his spirit passes through the gate which opens 
 but once for king or peasant. 
 
 Touched by the condition of Mrs. Lane and her 
 baby, Albina takes them to her home, where in a 
 short time the little boy, properly nourished, sweetly 
 coos with infantile delight, and day by day, in mo- 
 ments of tender retrospection, Albina assures herself 
 that the spirit of Bennie Bowles has returned in 
 another form, and wearing other features, so the 
 baby wins her love. 
 
 Mrs. Lane, too, proves a good worker in the 
 Women's Christian Temperance Union, and is made 
 welcome in Mrs. Baxter's home. No wonder that in 
 time the lines about her face are less deep, and her 
 cheeks pink with the bloom of health, in vivid con-
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 81 
 
 trast with her former pallor, the condition of a 
 poorly nourished body. Her womanly heart shows 
 her appreciation of her blessings by devotion to Al- 
 bina, and her life work. 
 
 Prosperity tests a man or woman far more than 
 adversity. One who can withstand the enticements 
 of pleasure, can bear the pangs of hunger. 
 
 Mrs. Lane proves her strength of mind both in 
 the valley of want and on the mountain-top of 
 plenty. There is really no experience which teaches 
 us successfully to minister to the needs of others 
 like the fact that we ourselves have suffered. Albina 
 and Mrs. Lane, akin in suffering, sit beside an even- 
 ing lamp reading, while the golden-haired baby 
 sleeps upon its mother's knee. 
 
 Presently Albina looks up. 
 
 " Mrs. Lane, I have wondered " She pauses, 
 
 for her voice .suddenly fails. Then she controls her- 
 self and continues : " I wonder if our baby," she 
 always speaks of the child with this loving pronoun, 
 " has a middle name, and if so, are you willing 
 to use it? " 
 
 Mrs. Lane is surprised by this singular request, 
 but she lays her book down and gently strokes the 
 temples of her sleeping boy, saying, " Wallis ! " She 
 says it with simple sweetness. " Wallis ! I love the 
 sound of each syllable, but, Miss Albina, to please 
 you, our best friend, I will use his other name."
 
 82 THE RED MOON 
 
 Saying this, she presses the child to her bosom, and 
 kisses it. She is struggling with memories of the 
 past, and replies : " Our baby's name is Wallis Bee, 
 after a dear friend of my girlhood." 
 
 A slight tremor shakes Albina's voice as she asks, 
 " Mrs. Lane, why do you spell baby's name with 
 * i-s ' instead of the Scotch ' a-c-e ' ? Is there a rea- 
 son for this mode of spelling a common name?" 
 
 Mrs. Lane hesitates for a moment, as a keen and 
 poignant pain rushes through her heart. 
 
 " Miss Albina, do not ask me to reveal this hidden 
 secret. I have no right to mar the sweet tran- 
 quillity of your useful life by uncovering the tragedy 
 of my own. It is now buried forever; let it rest. 
 Kindest of friends, you already know that the years 
 of my married life were full of weariness and sad- 
 ness, and sometimes I am convinced that it was my 
 just due, for the thoughtlessness and apparent heart- 
 lessness of my girlhood. Oh, I was of such a jealous 
 disposition ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lane weeps, while Albina tries to soothe her, 
 saying : " Let me share your trials with you, thus 
 making them lighter? Remember when Pandora 
 opened her box all the evils escaped, but Hope re- 
 mained. Let us then retain this choice privilege, 
 and though the past may have been dark for both 
 of us, we can still hope, and cheer others." A tinge 
 of color rushes over Albina's usually pale face as
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 83 
 
 the recollection of her own suffering comes to mind. 
 Suppressing the emotion that racks her heart, she 
 says : " We must be self-sacrificing, else our gifts 
 are valueless." 
 
 Mrs. Lane brightens up at these words of encour- 
 agement. " Yes, I will tell you why I named my 
 little Wallis Bee after one from whom I still long to 
 have news. True, I am a heart-broken woman, and 
 but for this sweet gift of a baby I should to-day 
 be inconsolable. Miss Albina, in my girlhood I was 
 betrothed to a young man, a graduate of Amherst 
 College. He was an only child, and his father was 
 dead. I loved him with all the force of my nature, 
 and some years ago, when he went to Europe, I 
 promised him with my farewell kiss that I would 
 marry him as soon as he returned. While he was 
 away, I was like one forsaken ; I had no relatives in 
 the North, and so our engagement was kept a secret 
 even from our dearest friends. We neither of us had 
 many relations. To human eyes not a cloud flecked 
 our horizon. We were madly in love with each other. 
 I recall to this day that the moon shone in full glory 
 as we walked up Fifth Avenue, the night before he 
 sailed, when we each vowed to be true until death. 
 Alas ! Miss Albina, I who made that vow, broke it 
 in a thoughtless and unpardonable manner." 
 
 Albina is touched by Mrs. Lane's condemnation 
 of herself, and she tries to comfort her, but Mrs.
 
 84 THE RED MOON 
 
 Lane replies : " No, dear friend, I deserve no pity. 
 God knows my sunless days are my just reward." 
 
 Then she goes on with her story : " It was time 
 for my lover to return, and a happy-hearted girl 
 I was as I went from store to store selecting my 
 wedding gowns, for we were to be married ere the 
 new year was born. 
 
 " Late in October, I had a few hurried lines from 
 my fiance stating that he had decided to sail earlier 
 than November, the first date fixed upon. He said 
 not one word about his joy over the prospect of our 
 meeting, nor yet of our marriage. Naturally jeal- 
 ous, I re-read the letter, hoping to find a note of 
 gladness that he would soon be with me, but there 
 was not a word; only a postscript to say how pleas- 
 ant his trip would be, for ' Alice ' was booked by 
 the same ship. I asked myself who this Alice could 
 be, that she could make my lover happy? A shiver 
 of coming evil rushed over me, and I drew near the 
 grate, for we had our first fire of the season. And 
 there, in the midst of the glowing coal, I distinctly 
 saw outlined a woman's face with a broad-brimmed 
 hat. Instantly I snatched up the poker and crushed 
 in the head, saying, ' It serves you right, Alice, 
 you who have supplanted me.' " 
 
 Mrs. Lane shudders as she recalls her youthful 
 impetuosity. Her little boy stirs in his sleep, and as 
 she hugs him to her bosom, she asks : " Miss Al-
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 85 
 
 bina, do you believe that our intuition carries our 
 minds far beyond the finite, and reveals to us the 
 secrets of the future? I was convinced that picture 
 in the fire was sent to warn me of my rival, Alice. 
 
 " My eyes were opened to the fallacy of this the- 
 ory, after it was too late. Miss Albina, do you re- 
 member some years ago the old vessel Dorogan was 
 lost at sea, within twenty-four hours out from New 
 York? My Wallis was booked as one of her pas- 
 sengers." 
 
 Albina makes an effort to rise from her chair, but 
 turns deadly pale and sinks back into her seat, say- 
 ing, "Oh, God, help us!" 
 
 With pain Mrs. Lane sees the effect of her words. 
 She leans forward, saying : " Miss Albina, it is cruel 
 for me to oppress you with the story of my life. 
 Try, dear friend, to overlook my girlish impetuosity. 
 I never had the tender care of a mother, and was 
 spoiled and petted by my father." 
 
 Albina is thinking of her own lover in a new 
 light, that of a heartless flirt. It is now evident 
 that he was engaged to Mrs. Lane Jessie Lea of 
 Maryland before the renewal of their acquaintance 
 at Stirlingate, where he wooed and won her young 
 heart. Later, in London, evidently he sought the 
 affection of Alice Grey, only to clasp her to his 
 bosom in death. Indignant over this revelation, 
 she assures herself that the traitor Wallis well de-
 
 86 THE RED MOON 
 
 served his fate for toying with the hearts of three 
 women. 
 
 Mrs. Lane gently strokes her baby's curls, as if 
 the very touch gives her fresh courage to continue: 
 
 " My flush of jealousy cooled as I scanned the 
 daily papers for news of the Dorogan. I counted 
 the hours till she was due, for I was desperately in 
 love with Wallis. Imagine my consternation one 
 morning, reading in a New York paper this news: 
 ' The Dorogan has been lost at sea ; only a few 
 passengers saved by a sailing-vessel.' It was a ter- 
 rible shock, but I continued to read the morning and 
 evening papers, hoping to find Wallis's name in the 
 lists of the saved. You know, when the heart is 
 young it is buoyant and hopeful. I was sure that 
 Wallis was stranded on some lone island, like Rob- 
 inson Crusoe was, and I was confident that he was 
 thinking of me. ' Hope deferred makes the heart 
 sick,' and I became restless and nervous, and day 
 after day I called at one of the newspaper offices 
 for additional news. Mr. Jubal Lane, the principal 
 reporter, always came himself to give me the details. 
 He was touched by my distress, and gained my per- 
 mission to call at my boarding place, in case he 
 heard anything of importance. After the search 
 yachts returned I knew I could not hope any longer. 
 Then it was that a telegram was found in a dead 
 girl's leathern bag that burnt itself into my mind
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 87 
 
 as if graven there with a fine steel point. It read: 
 ' Alice J will join you aboard the Dorogan. I have 
 the precious package, also an English dog for your 
 
 acceptance,' and it was signed, * Wallis B ' 
 
 For a moment I believe I lost consciousness, so 
 fiercely did jealousy burn in my heart. The graph- 
 ically written article depicted the two enfolded in 
 each other's arms, as if they were lovers. Was this 
 man who signed the telegram with dots my Wallis, 
 who used symbols always to his name in my letters? 
 With trembling fingers I checked them off, and to 
 my horror they spelt my darling's name. This fact, 
 or tragedy, seems to have fixed itself in my mind, 
 much as a murderer is photographed upon the retina 
 of his victim's eye; for, even to this day, it comes 
 to my view." 
 
 Albina's head droops low, and lower, and finally 
 rests on the edge of the table, and her hands fall 
 like leaden weights into her lap. The recollection 
 of all she has suffered through the perfidy of one 
 man, for the moment dulls her sensibility. She 
 raises her head in an instant, resolved not to be 
 unnerved by the details Mrs. Lane has narrated. 
 Up to this hour she has never fully convinced her- 
 self that Wallis was untrue to her. To-night she 
 spurns the very thought of a man who could stoop 
 to make love to three women at the same time, 
 showing himself utterly unworthy of any true-hearted
 
 88 THE RED MOON 
 
 woman's love. The expression of her face, usually 
 as mobile as the sea, represents now a cold statue in 
 marble on which the sculptor depicts proud defiance, 
 and makes the face insensible to the tender emotion 
 of love, pity, or sympathy. 
 
 Mrs. Lane is dwelling on the thoughts of her own 
 experience, and picks up the thread of her story 
 where she was interrupted, and she goes on to the 
 end, not noticing Albina's fixed .stare, an expression 
 unlike her gentle, loving solicitude and interest for 
 others in distress. 
 
 " Miss Albina, can you realize the weary hours of 
 anxiety, hoping against hope, for news of my be- 
 loved Wallis? When he was depicted as the lover of 
 another, I put on a mask of indifference, crushing 
 my feelings, and entered society. Among the young 
 people Mr. Lane was a great favorite. In his viva- 
 cious presence, the remembrance of my former hap- 
 piness was obscured as if by a thick veil. Mr. Lane's 
 magnetic power held me, and a cold cynicism envel- 
 oped my being. Later, to my horror, I detected 
 that he ferreted out my love for Wallis, and he 
 fanned into flame my jealousy of Alice." 
 
 The recollection of her broken life fills Mrs. Lane 
 with emotion, and she bows her head. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Albina, need I repeat the sequel ; you 
 know somewhat of the hours of bitter remorse that 
 followed. It will ever remain a mystery how, and
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 89 
 
 why, I married Mr. Lane in the bridal robes pre- 
 pared for my nuptials with Wallis. Soon, Mr. Lane 
 took to drink to drown the injustice done me. Miss 
 Albina, have you ever felt the power of a hypno- 
 tist? " and Mrs. Lane looks up with a questioning 
 appeal in her eyes. 
 
 A cathedral clock on the mantel-shelf chimes the 
 hour of ten, its deep soft tones echoing through 
 the room, over which the pall of death seems to have 
 settled. The child stretches its little arms above its 
 curly head, and thus recalled to that first question, 
 about the baby's name, his mother says: 
 
 " At Amherst College there were two students 
 who spelled their names Wallis with the ' i-s ' instead 
 of the usual Wallace, and so, to distinguish them, 
 one was called Wallis B. This was my Wallis, and 
 in fun he added six symbols to his name as his hive 
 of bees. You know how little it takes to make mer- 
 riment with a lot of college boys. Miss Albina, by 
 some magical power you have secured the key to 
 the innermost chamber of my heart, and now I am 
 freely spreading out the most sacred jewels of my 
 life secrets for you to ponder over. It may ease 
 my heart-ache." 
 
 In deep contrition, the outcome of a painful ex- 
 perience, Mrs. Lane goes on: 
 
 " Miss Albina, it was not my Wallis who was lost 
 at sea, but "
 
 90 THE RED MOON 
 
 Albina grasps her hand, and holds it in a vise- 
 like grip. She does not wait for the finished sen- 
 tence: " Wallis was not lost at sea? Then he still 
 lives ! Oh, Mrs. Lane, tell me where he is ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lane wonders at this fervor, but attributing 
 it to Miss Albina's tender, sympathetic heart, she 
 replies feelingly : " No, my Wallis did not go down 
 with the ill-fated Dorogan." 
 
 Albina brightens up with hope for the future, and 
 her thoughts travel rapidly. A -sudden enthusiasm 
 rouses her spirit. Despite the lapse of years, Wallis 
 may yet be rescued from the barren island on which 
 she believes him stranded. She resolves, " I will fit 
 up a yacht and with my mother go in search of him." 
 And she asks herself, " To what better use can I 
 apply my father's wealth? How serve the human 
 family more effectively than to go to one in peril?" 
 
 There are times when we soar in spirit above the 
 environment of our earthly bodies. The spiritual 
 having gained the ascendency, we leave behind us 
 every thought of the groveling cares of earth. Such 
 is Albina's mood as she pulls herself together with 
 the resolve to go in search of Wallis Bickers, who 
 is still alive. Every atom of jealousy in her heart 
 is extinguished by the hope of seeing him again. 
 True love is more enduring than jealousy. The two 
 cannot exist for the same person, even as water and 
 oil in a vessel remain two distinct components. With
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 91 
 
 love uppermost in her soul, Albina forgets the heart- 
 burnings she has endured. She thinks to confide the 
 story of her life to Mrs. Lane, but a spirit of true 
 heroism admonishes her to guard her secret a little 
 longer. 
 
 The house is wrapped in silence ; an occasional cab 
 rumbles past in the street; or the quick pace of a 
 doctor's gig tells of the needs of a sufferer. Now 
 and again sounds the heavy tread of a policeman 
 walking his beat in search of evil-doers. 
 
 In the muffled quiet Mrs. Lane says : " At the 
 beginning of February my lover, Wallis Bentone, re- 
 turned to New York, and although he knew I was 
 the wife of Jubal Lane, he came to see me. Then 
 it was that I learned the truth of the telegram which 
 he sent to his cousin Alice Grey, whose tailor had 
 neglected to forward the coat to her traveling-dress. 
 She wrote asking Wallis Bentone to get the pack- 
 age, and meet her at Liverpool. As he was so soon 
 to sail, he changed his passage to the Dorogan, but 
 a delayed London express caused him to miss the 
 steamer. The tragic death of his cousin Alice de- 
 cided him to prolong his stay abroad, and he wrote 
 me saying he felt it wiser not to marry until his 
 aunt, Mrs. Grey, recovered her mind, unsettled by 
 exposure and the loss of her only child. This letter, 
 and -subsequent ones, never reached me. You can 
 judge why. New York papers circulate in Europe,
 
 92 THE RED MOON 
 
 and Wallis read the announcement of my marriage 
 to Mr. Lane, which explained to him my silence. 
 You see, Miss Albina, it was not my betrothed, but 
 that other Amherst man, who, I have heard, might 
 have saved himself, but for his manly effort to res- 
 cue a young lady he met in London, who was also 
 a passenger aboard the ill-fated ship." 
 
 Within the past hour deep emotions have stirred 
 Albina's heart. Pity for a widow, tender love for 
 a baby, scorn for a man, then hope intense hope 
 and a belief that she may yet see her beloved Wal- 
 lis. 
 
 In the vortex of contending feeling the lamp of 
 love is once more relit, never again to be obscured 
 by mistrust. Her lover, Wallis Bickers, shines forth 
 in the light of a true and noble man worthy to be 
 mourned by her. This is the supreme hour of her 
 life. A radiant expression overspreads her usually 
 sad face, as the angel of perfect peace lifts her 
 thoughts out of the slough of despond. 
 
 Henceforth the sea may howl and toss its waves 
 mountain high, wailing a requiem mass for the dead 
 who rest in the depths. Albina now mourns as one 
 with a strong hope of reunion with a faithful lover. 
 
 Oppressed by recollections of her error, Mrs. Lane 
 finishes her sad story. 
 
 " Miss Albina, remorse has embittered every hour 
 of my life. You see my hair is prematurely grey."
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 98 
 
 Then, catching the inspiration of Albina's new joy, 
 she hugs her baby to her bosom. " God gave me this 
 child to comfort me, and with Mr. Lane's knowledge 
 I named him Wallis Bee. I must not forget to tell 
 you that Mr. Wallis Bickers was reported engaged 
 to a wealthy Virginia girl, but believing the story 
 my husband wrote of the betrothal of Mr. Bickers 
 and Alice Grey, rumor says she shut herself up in 
 a convent, and donned the white veil of a nun. 
 Knowing the falsity of Mr. Lane's story as I 
 do, I would go a long distance, and make any sacri- 
 fice, to assure that Southern girl of the error; 
 unfortunately, however, I have never heard her 
 name." 
 
 Albina gives a quick start, then, with a tone of 
 perfect composure, she asks ; " Mrs. Lane, will you 
 trust me to ferret out and perform that sacred 
 duty?" 
 
 " Gladly, Miss Albina." 
 
 Albina takes the sleeping child's hand and kisses 
 it, saying, " Our precious little Wallis Bee ! God 
 bless him." 
 
 Once more it gives her pleasure to repeat that 
 sacred name, which has rarely passed her lips in 
 years. 
 
 Little Wallis Bee Lane opens his eyes and smiles 
 a sweet, artless baby smile that shows the dimples 
 in his cheeks. The two women peer into his face,
 
 94 THE RED MOON 
 
 and his mother thinks she hears him say, " Ma-ma. 
 As the clock ticks its ceaseless rounds 
 
 " Two faces o'er the baby bent, 
 Two hands above the head were locked, 
 Those pressed each other, while they looked 
 They watched a life that Love had sent. 
 O ! solemn, hour ! 
 O ! hiddeii 
 
 And now, Albina's kindly heart reverts to the 
 other sufferer in this human tragedy. " Mr. Wallis 
 Bentone! What of him, Mrs. Lane? Does he still 
 live? " 
 
 " Alas, Miss Albina, I do not know. Wallis Ben- 
 tone bade me good-bye in New York, on his way 
 to Chicago to visit his aunt, Mrs. Grey, whose mind 
 was greatly enfeebled by her experiences on the Doro- 
 gan. She constantly asks if her daughter is safe. 
 I have also read that Mrs. Grey was found dead on 
 the street after the Chicago fire. Indirgtly I have 
 heard that Wallis Bentone gave up the practice of 
 law and went into the distant West to hunt big 
 game." 
 
 She buries her face in her hands. " God knows, 
 wherever he is, my prayers follow him. I need not 
 conceal the fact that my heart is still his, and will 
 be until death releases me and allows me to join him 
 in the Great Beyond, or, if he outlives me, accords
 
 ALBINA'S FAITH AWAKENS 95 
 
 my spirit the sweet privilege of returning to earth 
 as his guardian angel. But for this precious child 
 I would pray for annihilation, or at least a dead- 
 ening of that faculty called memory." 
 
 The two women, whose hearts are cemented by the 
 kinship of suffering, now plan many things for the 
 child, the culminating point of hope in their lives. 
 In the care and education of this boy, Albina begins 
 to see her sun going down in bright colors, and 
 Mrs. Lane transfers her baby to her benefactress's 
 lap, saying, " I gladly share his love with you."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE ABDUCTION 
 
 " Long, long, long the trail 
 Out of sorrow's lonely vale; 
 But at last the traveler sees 
 Light between the trees ! " 
 
 HENRY VAN DYKE. 
 
 THE heyday of happiness is not always when one 
 is surrounded with the glamor of riches. One's 
 truest peace and noblest impulses are often born in 
 the mortal throes of buried prospects or crushed 
 hopes. Then, the annunciator of love lifts the soul, 
 and gives rise to high aspirations. Environed with 
 the needs of others, Albina realizes her obligations to 
 the desolate poor, as she goes from house to house. 
 
 This lesson of sympathy and fellowship is taught 
 by little birds roosting with wing touching wing, or 
 by the buttercups and daisies grouped together on 
 the roadside. It is true that even the most degraded 
 of mankind has a vulnerable spot that sympathy 
 and kindness may touch. 
 
 Without a friendly hand to grasp, or an answer- 
 96
 
 THE ABDUCTION 97 
 
 ing thrill of love to vibrate in answer to our heart- 
 throbs, one's home, no matter how beautiful, how 
 luxurious, soon turns into a wilderness ; the flowers 
 of joy all dead, sunshine overshadowed by grey 
 clouds, and the cup of life filled to the brim with 
 wormwood and gall. 
 
 With this thought ever uppermost, Albina follows 
 out this lesson of the birds and flowers; with subtle, 
 mesmeric power thus influencing those who have 
 fallen in sin, alluring them through the little wicket- 
 gate of hope, and on into the paths of right-living 
 and peace. 
 
 New York is in a state of luxury, where the rich 
 and poor jostle each other; one abounding in good 
 things ; another, with starving children crying for 
 bread. Side by side, pass millionaires and maimed 
 heroes of the civil strife, the latter too proud to 
 admit their needs. Albina and Mrs. Lane ferret out 
 the secrets of many such proud poor. 
 
 Together they, too, devise a new club for news- 
 paper reporters, and the front basement of Mrs. 
 Baxter's Madison Avenue home is fitted up for the 
 club's use. In the winter a bright fire burns, and 
 for the asking may be had a cup of tea, or choco- 
 late, with bread. 
 
 No initiation fee is required for membership, only 
 the signature in a book with this inscription: 
 
 "We, the undersigned, agree never to contribute
 
 98 THE RED MOON 
 
 exaggerated accounts, or needlessly sensational ar- 
 ticles for our paper, nor for the purpose of grati- 
 fying the public thirst for scandal will we ever 
 encroach upon the sanctity of the family in its home 
 life." 
 
 Running in and out, little Wallis Bee Lane has 
 become the pet of the " New Writers' Club." In 
 his every footprint he scatters sunshine over thc- 
 household. Mama, and " Aunty " as he calls his 
 benefactress watch his development with loving 
 care. By Mrs. Baxter's advice, Albina makes him 
 her legal heir; for the simple story of his name 
 cleared up the uncertainty of the telegram, and re- 
 newed her trust in her lover's faithfulness. 
 
 One day they are all busy getting ready for the 
 outing at the seashore, where little barefooted Wallis 
 Bee delights to paddle in the surf, or play in the 
 sand. 
 
 In the garish light of a June day, the sun di- 
 rectly overhead, the child disappears, leaving his iron 
 hoop his favorite plaything leaning against the 
 step, as if he were about to enter at the basement 
 door. All over the city the reporters fill their papers 
 with descriptions of the pet of the Writers' Club; 
 and Albina offers a reward of " twenty thousand 
 dollars for his return, no questions asked." 
 
 Many theories find voice as to the reason for the 
 abduction. The heavy reward failing to uncover his
 
 whereabouts, an idea gains ground that the motive 
 was revenge, and the crime instigated by a former 
 lover of the child's mother. 
 
 This latter theory Mrs. Lane stoutly refuses to 
 believe, but relates an exciting scene between her 
 husband and an Indian warrior at Saratoga Springs. 
 Forthwith the reporters take the cue, and confidently 
 assert that two Indians were seen on Fifth Avenue 
 the day Wallis Bee disappeared. What more nat- 
 ural than the belief that the child is in the distant 
 West with a tribe of Indians? 
 
 Swiftly the summer is blotted from the calendar. 
 Still, not one word comes regarding the missing boy. 
 Mrs. Lane's face again shows the deep lines of sor- 
 row, and Albina's solicitude for her keeps the disap- 
 pointment in her own heart from taking deeper root. 
 Since her girlhood she has been drifting with the 
 tide of human woe, no wonder the simoon of sorrow 
 overtakes her in this keen disappointment. 
 
 She has now borne six of the trials predicted for 
 her life, and with calmness she awaits the seventh. 
 Deep in her soul, in amongst the dead leaves of her 
 blasted hopes, glitter pure dewdrops of faith ; and 
 over the mountain peaks of her trials now and 
 again gleams a bright ray of sunshine that comes 
 with the joy of helping others. In the happiness of 
 others, she confidently looks for the going down of 
 her sun, " bright, like day," as foretold over her
 
 100 THE RED MOON 
 
 cradle. She firmly believes that if, through her 
 agency, she can restore the child to its mother, her 
 sun will surely set in golden tints. She continues to 
 offer the reward, while making every effort to cheer 
 Mrs. Lane's sad life. 

 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 WALLIS 
 
 " Clouds 
 
 Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphurous 
 Like foam from the roused ocean." 
 
 MANFRED. 
 
 A LAW student of Amherst College, always neatly 
 dressed and clean shaven, his eyes sparkling with 
 the fire of intellect, is now in the far distant West. 
 He is now wearing a sun-faded suit of corduroy, 
 and his face is brown and tanned, his hair and 
 beard long and shaggy. This man, Wallis Ben- 
 tone, lives in the heart of nature in its wildest forms. 
 True to his resolve, he purchased a camping outfit, 
 with Nero, his English hunting dog, as his sole com- 
 panion. Beside the campfire he talks to this dumb 
 friend, and with his head on his master's knee, Nero 
 wags his tail, and seems to say, in dog language, 
 " Trust me. I will be faithful to you." 
 
 There are times, however, when Bentone would 
 welcome the bark of a hyena, even, for company. 
 And then, again, he surprises himself by singing 
 his college songs, with birds joining in full chorus. 
 His only auditors are timid rabbits, " cottontails," 
 nervously twitching their lips, their long ears erect 
 
 101
 
 102 THE RED MOON 
 
 with attention. Nero, however, is too well trained 
 to give chase, for it is necessary for Bentone to 
 restrain the natural impulses of his dog, as Indians 
 lurk on every side. Neither fear nor cowardice, how- 
 ever, holds a place in Bentone's bosom. His lone- 
 liness is relieved from time to time by occasional 
 letters from a former classmate, Richard McKellar 
 of Chicago, who delights in the study of meta- 
 physics ; and why his friend denies himself the privi- 
 lege of studying the best authors is a mystery Rich- 
 ard seeks to .solve ; why Bentone is content to bury 
 himself away from civilization with the heavens his 
 only canopy, leaves and brushwood his softest couch, 
 often troubles his friend Richard. He writes for an 
 explanation. 
 
 Bentone replies : 
 
 " DEAR RICHARD : 
 
 I have the book of nature always open. I am 
 following the trail of buffalo and deer to kill time, 
 to .subdue a passionate love for Jessie Lea, whom I 
 last saw in New York, the wife of Jubal Lane. To 
 this day, I recall words from her lips that opened 
 wide the gates of Elysium for me. I live over and 
 over the memory of the months when she was my 
 betrothed, and had she not fallen under the hypnotic 
 spell of a scoundrel, who trapped her into a hasty 
 marriage, to-day she would be my wife. I blame
 
 WALLIS 103 
 
 myself for prolonging my stay abroad after the loss 
 of the Dorogan, when my favorite cousin, Alice 
 Grey, was lost. Fool that I was ! Many contend 
 that as ' good fish swim in the sea as ever were 
 caught,' but I hold a different opinion. Jessie is 
 my ideal of a perfect woman. I bade her good-bye 
 as the wife of a man I am sure she does not love, 
 yet, neither by word or look, did she let me know it. 
 The perversity of our human nature is such, that 
 our pride is gratified by a woman's questionable 
 bearing toward us, yet we love, honor, and respect 
 her more in her noble attitude of unsullied virtue. 
 Now, do you comprehend, my dear Richard, why I 
 am roaming over the West? Have pity on me and 
 write soon to your lonely friend, 
 
 " WALLIS BENTONE." 
 
 Nothing brings us to our senses, or at least to a 
 normal frame of mind, so surely as the craving for 
 food. Bentone often then has to cast aside his 
 weight of trouble to .supply his wants. A pot of 
 coffee, hardtack, and a steak of venison broiled on 
 glowing coals, satisfies his appetite. Following long 
 trampings he sleeps soundly, with Nero as guard, 
 and at the first gleam of a morning sun, master 
 and dog are on tramp again. 
 
 Now comes a letter telling of the death of Rich- 
 ard's mother, and Bentone replies :
 
 THE RED MOON 
 
 " DEAR RICHARD : 
 
 " My heart is with you in this, your hour of keen 
 sorrow. Remember it is a sweet privilege to have 
 known your mother's love, even though you hence- 
 forth have only the memory of it. My mother is 
 merely the creature of my fancy, a dream I would 
 have real. I cannot recall her personality. Indeed, 
 Richard, I always lose those to whom I would give 
 a wealth of affection. Your mother has been such 
 a joy in your life, now let the thought be your 
 solace. Is it not true that we are born for sorrow? 
 A dead sorrow can be endured, but a living sorrow 
 is a weight that drags the soul down. My closet 
 is filled with a medley of dry bones. My sorrow is 
 a living, ever-present reality, and upsets my faith 
 in womankind at least women so easily influenced 
 by the fascinations of a man who understands the 
 art of flattery, or who influences her through her 
 weakness jealousy. Jealousy is my Jessie's beset- 
 ting sin. I still call her * my Jessie.' 
 
 " It was a monster in man's garb who stole her. 
 Think of my present occupation, hunting, and fish- 
 ing for salmon. I, who used to be fond of society 
 and study, and now turn with loathing from it. 
 Nature soothes the cravings of my soul, and keeps 
 me from cursing Jubal Lane for my bitter disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 " Do you remember the picture of my little Jes-
 
 WALLIS 105 
 
 sie with the nut-brown hair and eyes as blue as a 
 violet? It is still in my breast-pocket, as near my 
 heart as I can get it. But Jessie belongs to another, 
 and when I think of Jubal Lane as Jessie's husband, 
 I am a murderer in thought. 
 
 " Richard, you ask that I come and join you in 
 your travels abroad. But, why not change your 
 plans, and wander over your own country with me? 
 I have in mind a .scheme a plan to trap salmon as 
 they go up the Columbia River. If I succeed in this 
 scheme, and we have transportation, there will be 
 a fortune made. 
 
 " Write soon to your friend, 
 
 " WAI/LIS BENTONE." 
 
 This letter written, Bentone, the hunter, selects a 
 thick growth of trees under which to camp. Sweet 
 beyond expression is the soft glow of sunset, as day 
 after day it tips the towering peak of Mount Hood 
 with a last lingering ray of gold and crimson. In 
 its grandeur Mount Hood stands alone, as if, in the 
 dim past, like some fabled growth, it sprang from 
 the earth in a night, no rolling chain of lesser moun- 
 tains to break the reach of sky and forest, forests 
 that in the gloaming twilight look black against the 
 soft sky. In the quiet of many evenings Bentone 
 gives wing to his thoughts, while near by, in the 
 trees, twittering birds seek shelter for the night.
 
 106 THE RED MOON 
 
 Bentone tries to gain his own consent to join 
 Richard in Rome, but Bentone prefers to follow the 
 course of the Columbia River as it flows toward the 
 Pacific. After long, weary tramps, one afternoon 
 he catches sight of the Western sea, with a fore- 
 ground of rocks that clearly mark the undulating 
 surface of the land, the horizon dotted here and 
 there with small boats, their sails tossed about on 
 the waves as the weird playthings of sea nymphs. 
 In this scene of grandeur there is no human sound 
 to greet the lone wanderer, no lowing of cattle 
 nothing to suggest the proximity of animate life. 
 To the east tower great purple mountains, almost 
 touching the darkening clouds, now looming up, om- 
 inously, in the south. 
 
 Bentone stands in reverie, watching the changeful 
 light of the setting sun, that like a great ball of 
 fire suddenly drops out of sight. Face to face with 
 nature in its wildest aspects, he is startled by the 
 uncanny screech of an owl, that recalls an old super- 
 stition, that these birds of night foretell death, and 
 a chill .strikes his heart. What if it be his dear 
 little Jessie about to die. Thinking of her, a strong 
 impulse seizes him ; an impulse to retrace his steps 
 and again assume the duties of his profession. A 
 flush of shame tinges his cheeks, as he looks back 
 upon the privileges he has enjoyed, such as a liberal 
 education in college, and in travel. Of what avail
 
 WALLIS 107 
 
 is it in this useless, profitless existence he now 
 spends? And why? In pique over the marriage of 
 a girl he loves, he lives as a woodsman a low level, 
 indeed, for an educated man. Thus it is that in the 
 loneliness of the oncoming night, a wave of remorse 
 stirs his heart a desire and a craving to return to 
 manly work. 
 
 He comforts himself with the assurance that in a 
 new life, with the cobwebs brushed from his brain, 
 he can easily retake his place in the rank and file, 
 and so fulfil his high aspirations in life. 
 
 At this moment a spiritual agency surrounds him, 
 and with it strange and mystic power seem to force 
 him to do his duty as a citizen. 
 
 In reality man is a mere bauble, a plaything when 
 some unseen, invincible power grips him, and forces 
 him on, to weal or woe. 
 
 Suddenly Bentone realizes that a storm is brew- 
 ing, for heavy clouds darken the sky. Seeing a slen- 
 der spiral of smoke in the distance, he walks rapidly, 
 hoping for shelter. This he finds in the hut of a 
 settler, who gladly welcomes him. From the sup- 
 ply of game in his knapsack, a frugal meal is soon 
 spread for him. 
 
 To one isolated in the woods newspapers are a 
 great boon. Bentone therefore seats himself com- 
 fortably to read by the firelight the old and recent 
 New York papers his host supplies. In a paper
 
 108 THE RED MOON 
 
 yellow with age, a paragraph catches his eye. 
 " Twenty thousand dollars reward is offered by Miss 
 Albina Baxter, for the return of Wallis Bee Lane 
 only child of the widow of Jubal Lane. The boy 
 was trundling a hoop in front of No. 5 Madison 
 Avenue, when he suddenly disappeared." Then fol- 
 lows a description of the child, and a theory that 
 revenge, not money, is the motive for the abduc- 
 tion. Then the article concludes : " Clever detec- 
 tives believe the boy was spirited away by an In- 
 dian, in the pay of a former lover of Mrs. Lane, 
 who, rumor says, is hunting big game in the wilds 
 of the West." 
 
 Wallis Bentone springs to his feet. The pioneer's 
 cabin is too small to hold the infuriated man. Out 
 into the open he dashes, and struggles with his emo- 
 tion. " Am I, Wallis Bentone, the suspected brute 
 who would stoop to so mean a revenge upon a loving 
 mother? I, a gentleman by birth, and scholar by 
 education ? " He strides rapidly up and down, up 
 and down the narrow walk leading to the suggestion 
 of a gate. 
 
 " Revenge ! " Again the blood rushes with mad- 
 dening force through his veins. " Revenge ! Had I 
 been capable of so despicable a motive I should have 
 sought to punish the man, Jubal Lane, who wronged 
 me; surely not the woman and her innocent child." 
 Bentone passes his hand over his throbbing temples.
 
 WALLIS 109 
 
 " Well, the devil has secured his own at all events. 
 Lane is dead, and I'm glad of it." 
 
 The rain has abated and the clouds have blown 
 over, showing a full moon, its silvery gleam beau- 
 tifying each rough hillock, or gaunt tree stump, but 
 its cold light accords ill with the fever of Bentone's 
 thoughts, as with a vow upon his lips, to which 
 Nero alone is witness, he swears, " I will traverse the 
 whole world, if need be, in order to discover the 
 whereabouts of Jessie Lea's son, he to whom my 
 darling has given my college name. I am not worthy 
 of this high honor; but, by God, I will try to repay 
 her by finding her boy, dead or alive." 
 
 Later, Bentone seeks bodily repose, but his emo- 
 tions are too feverish for sleep. Hour after hour, 
 he sits beside a blazing fire searching each column 
 of the papers for additional news of the kidnapping. 
 He is startled by the realization that the reward 
 was offered years ago, and that it may have been 
 paid, and the boy now safe in his mother's arms. 
 However, another item in a recent paper states: 
 " Detectives supposedly on the trail of the little boy, 
 Wallis Bee Lane, have found a girl instead." This 
 paragraph says the widowed mother is battling 
 bravely with her sorrow, and is still convinced that 
 her child is in the hands of Indians. 
 
 " By Jove ! " Bentone exclaims, " a woman's im- 
 pulses, or conjectures, are often correct. I. will fol-
 
 110 THE RED MOON 
 
 low her theory and steal upon every tribe of Indians 
 in the West, until I find the boy," and he begins to 
 formulate plans for the search. 
 
 Then a feeling of depression grips his heart. 
 " How am I to identify a child I have never seen ? 
 * Clever detectives ' might do so, but I'm no detec- 
 tive. If Wallis Bee is with Indians, as his mother 
 thinks, she probably would not recognize him now. 
 There is only a step^ from a high-born boy to a war- 
 rior in feathers and war-paint. Children soon grow, 
 and are what their .surroundings make them." 
 
 Then he wonders about Miss Baxter? What re- 
 lation is she to the child? What actuates her to 
 offer so large a reward for his return? He won- 
 ders, but he has no way of ferreting out this mys- 
 tery. 
 
 In early morning, before the larks rise in the air, 
 Bentone is up burnishing his gun and pistol, ready 
 for a start, a start on a hunt, but not for big 
 game. The game is the precious little child who 
 bears his name. To human eyes the chances are all 
 against him, and possibly he will be a victim of his 
 own rashness in creeping upon encampments of In- 
 dians, but this daredevil recklessness will add charm 
 to a hunter's life and give spice to his daily tramps. 
 
 By inquiry Bentone learns there is a white boy 
 with the Chilcats, an Indian tribe encamped beside 
 the river. Later, after a hairbreadth escape, he
 
 WALLIS 111 
 
 finds that this lad is nearly grown. He is therefore 
 not Jessie's son. 
 
 Weeks and months of marching, and counter- 
 marching in following different clues end in disap- 
 pointment. Wallis tries to gain his own consent to 
 renounce his determination, and fly to Jessie to de- 
 clare his love, to give up the useless waste of time. 
 In this spirit he writes again to his friend. 
 
 " MY DEAR RICHARD : 
 
 " I am sure you are wondering why you do not 
 hear from me. Well, to tell the truth, I have aban- 
 doned the chase after wild game, and am deeply 
 absorbed in the search for a boy, said to be with 
 the Indians in this far distant West. This is what 
 the New York papers affirm, and I am acting upon 
 their statements. It may be a wild-goose chase, but 
 at least it serves to kill time. 
 
 " Hold your breath while I tell you that this boy 
 is a son of my own darling Jessie. She has been 
 worse than dead to me, but thank God she is now a 
 widow, and so hope springs anew in my bosom. I 
 am frantic to go to Jessie, and lay my heart and 
 hand at her feet, but some inward monitor restrains 
 me, and urges me to seek the lost child. There is 
 a reward of twenty thousand dollars offered by a 
 Miss Albina Baxter. Who she is, I'm at a loss to 
 know ! Jessie never spoke of her to me ; but rest
 
 112 THE RED MOON 
 
 assured, friend Richard, the reward does not enter 
 into my thoughts. It is love for Jessie that gives 
 me the nerve to take my life in my hands, as I 
 stealthily creep upon encampments of savages. It 
 is love, unsatisfied love, that sends me wandering over 
 the prairies. Truly, love does at times make a fool 
 of more sensible men than I. Jessie surely cares for 
 me; else why did she give her only child my college 
 name Wallis Bee? 
 
 " Have you any way of finding the whereabouts 
 of Mrs. Jubal Lane, or Miss Albina Baxter? In 
 your search, please do not mention my name. I am 
 determined to keep in the background until I have 
 visited every tribe of Indians in this section. 
 
 " If I find the boy, it will be some compensation 
 for the blasting of my hopes by that brute of a 
 man who dashed from my lips my cup of happiness 
 just as I was about to drink of the sweetest joy of 
 a man's life. 
 
 " Note the date of my letter. This is Christmas 
 night, and I should be in my happiest mood, but 
 I'm not. 
 
 " I have tried to picture the Christ-child lying in 
 the manger, with the Divine Mother listening to the 
 song of the angels, and receiving the adoration of 
 the Magi. Struggle as I may, the mother's face is 
 that of Jessie, and the child I see is in the midst of 
 a band of swarthy warriors, who have hung their
 
 WALLIS 113 
 
 game on the surrounding tree branches. Do you 
 think it a possibility that this premonition may lead 
 me on to success? 
 
 " A New York paper intimates that a former lover 
 of Mrs. Lane may have instigated the abduction of 
 her son. I'm incensed at the very thought. Were 
 Jubal Lane alive, I'd put a bullet through his brain, 
 confident that the idea originated in his versatile 
 mind. 
 
 " Excuse this outburst from 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 " WALLIS BENTONE. 
 
 " P.S. Don't forget to make inquiries about the 
 two ladies. I am almost ready to return East, to 
 kneel at the shrine of Jessie's love."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 MEMORY REFRESHED 
 
 " Could we but draw back the curtains 
 That surround each other's lives." 
 
 THE air is crisp and cold, the season well ad- 
 vanced, increasing the discomforts of camp-life, but 
 intensifying the beauty of the evening sky, as nature 
 drops to sleep, to be born again in the morning with 
 a concert of singing birds, and rustling leaves. Day 
 by day the heavens are overspread with tints of red, 
 yellow, and purple, making a combination that can- 
 not be imitated by man. Brilliant sunsets forecast 
 the coming of the Lord in a chariot of fire. 
 
 Across the grave of Jubal Lane the little wicket 
 gate of hope stands wide open, alluring Bentone to 
 the arena of work; and the spiritual influence of 
 Jessie Lea, like the whisper in the tree-tops, soothes 
 him, as he thinks of a cheerful fireside, with the 
 woman he loves beside him. A fire in camp means 
 no end of annoyance from prowling beasts attracted 
 by the glare, or it may be the vengeful savage. But 
 for the vow to find the lost lad, Bentone assures 
 himself he would hasten to Jessie. His mind is torn 
 with conflicting emotions, one entirely selfish, the 
 114
 
 MEMORY REFRESHED 115 
 
 other unselfish. "Why does my heart burn with a 
 determination to find the child, and my muscles long 
 for action in this search, if an unknown force is not 
 urging me on? I will heed my impulse unto death." 
 So he continues to follow clue after clue, only to be 
 disappointed. 
 
 Then comes a letter from his friend. 
 
 " HOTEL EDEN, ROME, ITALY. 
 " MY DEAR BENTONE : 
 
 " I have made a note of your request to seek in- 
 formation in regard to Mrs. Jubal Lane, and Miss 
 Albina Baxter. As to the lost boy, can't you see 
 that you are on a wild-goose chase allowing your 
 impulse to lead you? Think of the absurdity of that 
 newspaper theory, that an Indian, at high noon, 
 could spirit off a white child from the busy streets 
 of New York ! It is quite as improbable and impos- 
 sible as that in a spirit of sordid revenge, you, a 
 gentleman by birth and education, would stoop to 
 instigate the abduction. 
 
 " Can you not read between the lines of that re- 
 porter's article? It was written to create a sensa- 
 tion, and so increase the sale of the paper. I im- 
 plore you not to lose your scalp and life on such 
 slight provocation. Mrs. Lane's child was stolen 
 years ago, and while the rich heiress, Miss Albina 
 Baxter, still offers a heavy reward for the boy's re-
 
 116 THE RED MOON 
 
 turn, so far as I can ascertain no clue has been 
 gleaned by the shrewdest detectives as to his where- 
 abouts. In reading the papers in the settler's hut, 
 you jumbled up dates. It is hardly surprising, how- 
 ever, for I can well imagine the/ tumult in your heart 
 the desire to fly to Jessie, and the manly impulse 
 to seek her stolen child. Take my advice and find 
 Jessie. Rest assured, every item of news bearing on 
 this subject will be quickly sent to you, by your 
 friend, RICHARD." 
 
 Richard's letter fails to discourage Bentone, 
 rather firing anew his soul with a strong resolution 
 to keep up the search until he is satisfied in his own 
 mind that the child is not under the care of Indians. 
 " A smile from Jessie will repay me for any priva- 
 tion I may incur. Suppose I am scalped, Jessie will 
 never know of my weary round of tramping, hoping 
 to find her lost boy. I will write Richard to find 
 her, and tell her how I have risked my life in the 
 hope of making her happy, how I have longed to 
 rush to her side, but resisted the impulse in her 
 interest. So he writes the following letter: 
 
 " IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 " MY DEAR RICHARD : 
 
 " Should you fail to have news of me, and are 
 convinced that I have fallen a victim of my own
 
 MEMORY REFRESHED 117 
 
 rashness, will you seek a personal interview with my 
 dear Jessie Lea, and tell her how truly I have tried 
 to find her lost boy? Be sure to tell her that my 
 last breath will breathe her name, and a prayer that 
 we may meet in the Great Beyond. I would fly to 
 the East to throw myself at her feet, but something 
 in my heart braces my resolve to search for her little 
 son. O Dick! I have been such a fool, if I ever get 
 another chance, I mean to make a man of myself. 
 Were Lane alive, I would shoot him, knowing it was 
 he who dared assume that I could stoop so low as 
 to abduct or instigate the kidnapping of a child. 
 " Daily I pray the good Lord to spare me and 
 allow me the sweet privilege of casting my unworthy 
 heart at Jessie's feet. Do you think she will spurn 
 the love of your true friend? 
 
 " BENTONE." 
 
 Writing this letter produces a feeling of renewed 
 strength for the " wild-goose chase," and as the 
 blood-red moon rose over the hills, Bentone ap- 
 proaches the wigwam of Black Bear, who is at peace 
 with both the whites and the Indians. 
 
 As he advances, Bentone reverses his gun, which, 
 however, is carefully primed for any unexpected 
 emergency. 
 
 Black Bear understands the signal, and comes 
 forward with his tomahawk upside down.
 
 118 THE RED MOON 
 
 From him, Bentone learns that three days before 
 six warriors from the Chicopees passed northward 
 on their winter hunt. They had with them a brave 
 little lad with eyes as blue as the sky, and hair as 
 fair as the moon, but no inducement can prevail 
 upon either Black Bear or his son to assist in the 
 hunt for this white boy. 
 
 Alone, then, Wallis Bentone, with his dog, begins 
 a long, weary tramp. 
 
 " The hunters have the start of me," he says to 
 himself, " and there is one chance in a thousand that 
 if I overtake them I can identify a boy whom I have 
 never seen. One false step on my part, and my 
 scalp will dangle at a warrior's belt. But " Ben- 
 tone resolutely bows his head toward the east " to- 
 ward the rising of the sun I picture a sweet, sad 
 face; for a smile from her, I'd court danger, even 
 death." 
 
 The influence of the Japan current is quickly de- 
 tected by animals, and great herds migrate to the 
 softer air of the northwest. The day is closing when 
 Bentone sights a herd of bison hotly pursued by six 
 Indians, and a boy on an Indian pony. Although 
 at a great distance, he exclaims, " That's Jessie's 
 son ! " and he starts after them. Then he suddenly 
 stops to formulate a more sensible scheme. Certain 
 death would be his only reward to attempt a rescue, 
 save by stealth. Keeping under the cover of trees,
 
 MEMORY REFRESHED 119 
 
 he pushes on in the direction of the hunters. Nero's 
 nature is sorely taxed by the restraint, for he would 
 give chase in full cry, if allowed. 
 
 Nature requires repose, and so to fit himself for 
 the dangerous work before him, Bentone wraps him- 
 self in his waterproof and sleeps the sleep of an 
 exhausted man. 
 
 Do animals think and reason? Nero, by some 
 strange instinct, divines his master's wish, and at 
 midnight licks his face. Bentone rises and cautiously 
 advances, until the fitful glimmer of a campfire 
 marks the Indian bivouac. Each object intervening 
 is shrouded in a black pall, intensified by the red 
 gleam of the firelight, silhouetted against the back- 
 ground. 
 
 Stationing Nero on guard over his knapsack, Ben- 
 tone gets near enough to discern six sturdy warriors 
 around a bed of hot coals. The hunters are in 
 merry mood, and their chatter deadens the sound 
 of approaching footsteps, though each crushed twig 
 or dry leaf is an explosive to Bentone's sensitive ear. 
 He dares not make an attempt to reach the camp 
 until every Indian is asleep. Crouching beside a 
 tree, he hears a night bird singing a love song, which 
 recalls many sad memories. It recalls a visit to 
 Jessie in her Southern home, where at midnight 
 mocking-birds -sing their sweetest songs, to assure 
 their mates of their presence. Then every bird song
 
 120 THE RED MOON 
 
 was a note from heaven, and Jessie the bright star 
 of hope in his life. What a contrast now! Within 
 touch of six red devils who would not hesitate to 
 deal a death-blow, and sling his scalp at their side ! 
 And why this change? Bentone dares not dwell 
 upon the thought. 
 
 On the tree limbs about the campfire hang one 
 bison, two deer, and a number of small animals, so 
 protecting the game from prowling wolves. The 
 hunters arrange themselves in a circle, their feet to- 
 ward the embers of the fire. Stretched at full 
 length is a white boy clad in foxskin garments a 
 strong-looking, athletic boy. " That's Jessie's son," 
 says Bentone to himself. We are often convinced of 
 a thing without a tangible reason. 
 
 Soon the breathing of the sleepers gives Bentone 
 the opportunity to get nearer the lad, whose every 
 muscle is relaxed, his bow and arrows fallen from 
 the grasp of his hand. 
 
 " Is this really Jessie's son? " Bentone asks him- 
 self. " I must believe it is to nerve me for the 
 rescue." With his gun pointing toward the sleepers, 
 his revolver stuck in his belt, he gets close enough 
 to discern the clear-cut Roman nose of the boy, a 
 counterpart of Jessie Lea's. One great warrior stirs, 
 then rises and grasps his rifle. He listens, and rubs 
 his eyes with his swarthy hand, sees no one, and 
 again he lies down to sleep.
 
 MEMORY REFRESHED 121 
 
 Creeping cautiously to the head of the white- 
 skinned lad, Bentone says in a low voice, " Wallis ! 
 Wallis Bee ! " Perhaps a passing angel kisses the 
 lad's brow and whispers of home: for he seems to 
 dream: a smile overspreads his face; his lips part 
 and softly he murmurs, " Ma-ma." 
 
 Again Bentone says, softly, " Wallis ; Wallis 
 Bee." The child wakens, then true to the teaching 
 of his captors, he grasps his bow and arrows to de- 
 fend himself. A questioning look flashes from his 
 eyes, he is bewildered by an inrush of feeling, as for- 
 gotten incidents of his home-life sweep over him 
 and new joy, new hope springs into being. A keen 
 desire seizes him, a desire to be cuddled in his 
 mother's arms. In a moment his affection, like a 
 creeping vine, reaches out for support, and he finds 
 that support in a white man leaning over him, with 
 friendly interest in his voice. 
 
 With a quick motion of his arm the boy motions, 
 "Go! I will follow you." 
 
 Bentone takes from his pocket a phosphoric match- 
 box, turning its glowing side as a .signal, as he hur- 
 ries away, for an ominous growl of wolves in the 
 distance warns of coming danger. 
 
 The lad, keen of wit, understands the signal, and 
 springing to his feet utters a note of alarm, as a 
 pack of hungry, yelping wolves come bounding to- 
 ward the camp.
 
 THE RED MOON 
 
 Six rifle shots in quick succession rend the air, for 
 the hunters are busy defending their game. 
 
 With his match-box flashing like a glow-fly, Ben- 
 tone picks up his knapsack, and with Nero hurries 
 away. A light bounding step soon greets his ear, 
 and in an instant the boy grasps his hand. 
 
 Swiftly they rush forward. 
 
 In the forest there is comparative safety, but an 
 open stretch intervenes. This must be passed be- 
 fore day dawns. 
 
 Keeping close together, they pick their way over 
 the rough, uneven margin of the Columbia River, 
 here but a small .stream. There is a boat anchored 
 to a root; they spring into the boat and row north- 
 ward, keeping under the deep shadow of overhanging 
 trees. 
 
 Slowly the sun rises and lights all nature with a 
 torch of crimson. The snow-covered mountains 
 sparkle and rejoice at the birth of another day. 
 Jagged rocks and forest trees loom into bold relief. 
 Beside the edge of the boat, rosy-colored salmon 
 flounce their supple bodies out of the water, indig- 
 nant at being disturbed at so early an hour. 
 
 Bentone is alert and watchful, and evinces great 
 excitement over the experience of the night, and the 
 rescue of a white boy, no matter to whom he belongs. 
 Landing on the opposite shore, they leave the canoe 
 to float away.
 
 MEMORY REFRESHED 123 
 
 Dogs instinctively love boys at once, and now 
 Nero ignores his master and keeps close beside 
 the sturdy youth, who lovingly pats his soft, silky 
 head. 
 
 Reaching a German settler's home, Nero comes 
 face to face with two rivals, a fierce mastiff and a 
 dachshund. Well trained, Nero now fails to sup- 
 press his antipathy to others of his kind, but his 
 master prevents an encounter. 
 
 The settler, Moritz, a sturdy German, is plough- 
 ing, in preparation for sowing winter wheat. His 
 wife is bending over her washtub, but the glitter of 
 a silver dollar induces her to put aside her work 
 and prepare a hasty meal of cornbread and home- 
 cured bacon. 
 
 Bentone is weary and tries to calm himself for a 
 short rest, but the growls of the dogs suggest other 
 visitors. In front of the house stand two Indian 
 warriors, gesticulating and beating back the dogs. 
 They are in angry mood. Frau Moritz scents dan- 
 ger, and wrings her hands in distress, while her hus- 
 band tries to calm the ferocious mastiff. Moritz is 
 at peace with the Indians and wishes to keep their 
 friendship. Unconscious of danger, their little son 
 Carl trundles his wooden barrel hoop across the 
 earthen floor. Springing forward, the semi-Indian 
 lad, who has a dirk in his belt, pulls it out, and 
 with the agility of a practiced hand whirls the hoop
 
 THE RED MOON 
 
 round and round the room, his bronzed face a study 
 in delight and happiness. 
 
 Suddenly he stops in front of Bentone and says, 
 " Ma-ma ! Aunty." Although he speaks the Chico- 
 pee language, these two English words hold their 
 place in his mind. 
 
 Bentone catches the boy's hands, and looking into 
 his clear blue eyes, he asks, " Is your name Wallis 
 Bee Lane? Are you Jessie Lane's son? Do you 
 know Miss Albina Baxter? Where did you leave 
 your big iron hoop ? " 
 
 These familiar names are the keys that unlock 
 the door of the boy's memory. The mere mention 
 of his mother's name, and that of his benefactress, 
 floods his young heart with thoughts of his home. 
 With a wild cry of delight he throws his arms around 
 Bentone's neck, saying in broken English, " Take 
 Wallis to Ma-ma! Aunty." 
 
 The " wild-goose chase " is over. The boy is 
 found.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 HOPE AND FEAR 
 
 " Lo ! the poor Indian, whose untutored mind 
 
 Sees God in clouds or hears Him in the wind . . . 
 But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
 
 His faithful dog shall keep him company." 
 
 POPE. 
 
 THE warriors at the gate of the German's home 
 are not on a peaceable errand. Trouble is in the 
 air. 
 
 Using Moritz as interpreter, Bentone bargains for 
 the lad. He is absolutely certain that before he 
 reaches Portland there will be a fierce fight with the 
 treacherous Indians, but he is sure of victory if he 
 has half a chance. " A battle won in the mind is 
 won in reality." 
 
 The daffodil of the evening sky changes to a dull, 
 leaden hue, followed by the murkiness of darkness, 
 as Bentone and his companion steal away. With 
 the night grown old, he selects a secluded spot to 
 rest, guarded by Nero. He counts the stars over- 
 head in his effort to woo sleep, but slumber is not 
 enticed by so flimsy a pretext. Night turns to 
 
 125
 
 126 THE RED MOON 
 
 dawn, and a red ball of fire creeps up behind the 
 eastern horizon, flooding the earth with sunshine. 
 A few morsels of food, and they pick their way 
 along a deep canon, with precipitous walls on every 
 side a canon dry and arid, with impoverished soil 
 and rubble that grows scarcely any vegetation. 
 They clamber up the j agged wall, then enter a 
 thick growth of trees, with no footpaths to follow, 
 no well-kept roads of travel; they must struggle 
 through the troublesome meshes of wild grape, 
 briars and trailing vines, intermixed with low shrub- 
 bery. Nero, with canine instinct, scents danger, 
 and as a rifle ball whizzes past Bentone's head, and 
 buries itself in a tree, the man realizes that the 
 battle is on. They are discovered by a band of 
 Indians. 
 
 With deliberate aim, Bentone fires. A wild whoop, 
 a leap in the air, and a sinewy Indian falls to the 
 ground. In a moment the lad is seized from be- 
 hind, and a dash made for the deep canon. But 
 Bentone's revolver does quick work. The second 
 warrior tumbles over in a heap, holding the boy 
 with a death-grip. 
 
 Wallis Bee, however, bounds to his feet with the 
 agility of a .squirrel, and running to his protector 
 says, " Ma-ma ! Aunty." 
 
 After some time, Bentone reaches Portland and 
 ships for San Francisco. As uncle and nephew
 
 HOPE AND FEAR 
 
 they settle in an obscure street, where Bentone es- 
 says to teach the child his native tongue, easily for- 
 gotten, but as readily regained. 
 
 Not a doubt rests in his mind as to the identity 
 of the boy, and now his one aim is to find the 
 whereabouts of Jessie Lane. With the child as an 
 offering, there is a better chance of securing her 
 hand in marriage. He writes to his aunt living 
 at Nyack on the Hudson: 
 
 " MY DEAR AUNT ALICE : 
 
 " Have you any way of finding out where Mrs. 
 Jubal Lane is living? She is the lady whose son 
 was stolen several years ago. I judge she may still 
 be in touch with Miss Albina Baxter, who has of- 
 fered a large reward for the return of the lad. Do 
 let me hear from you as soon as possible, for I have 
 decided to return to the East and civilization. I am 
 tired hunting big game, and am going to settle 
 down to manly work once more. I am sure you 
 will be pleased to hear this. 
 
 " I hope you are feeling better, dear Aunt Alice. 
 I shall come to you as soon as I reach New York. 
 " Your affectionate nephew, 
 
 " WAI/LIS BENTONE." 
 
 This letter finished, Bentone writes to Richard, 
 who is still in Italy.
 
 128 THE RED MOON 
 
 " MY DEAR RICHARD : 
 
 " ' The wild-goose chase ' is over, for I have found 
 Jessie's son. I killed two huge Chicopees as his ran- 
 som. My conscience is clear, however, for I bought 
 the boy fairly, and the treacherous scoundrels went 
 back on their word, and came near killing me, and 
 recovering the lad. I found my favorite painted 
 pipe, which I gave in the trade, in one fellow's 
 pouch. Passing as uncle and nephew, the child and 
 I are living in this wind-blown city of San Fran- 
 cisco. I am trying to find out where Jessie is. In 
 the meantime I am teaching her son how to speak 
 his native tongue. He is progressing famously, 
 and is clever and alert. 
 
 "One thing about the stripling troubles me. 
 Whenever we pass an old lady on the street with 
 grey hair, the little fellow gets excited, and seizing 
 my hand says, ' That's mama ! ' Then he takes off 
 his cap, runs his hand through his own hair, and 
 says, ' Purty white hair.' 
 
 " Why does he associate his mother with white 
 hair? Perhaps Miss Albina has grey hair and he is 
 thinking of her. I often wonder who ' aunty ' is. 
 When he says aunty in his lessons, his eyes beam 
 with delight and he claps his hand and says, ' Take 
 me to Ma-ma and Aunty ! ' This puzzles me, for 
 his mother was an only child, and his father was 
 also an only child.
 
 HOPE AND FEAR 129 
 
 " Now, Dick, suppose, after all, I am mistaken, 
 and this little fellow proves to be some other 
 woman's son. What will I do? All my hopes for 
 the future will be blasted, and I fear my new en- 
 ergy will be crushed. The keenest desire of my life 
 is to return Jessie's son to her arms. My reward! 
 Well, let me be explicit and say that my reward 
 cannot be paid in dollars and cents. I ask some- 
 thing higher and nobler. Never, even at college, 
 was I more interested than now, devoting my life to 
 this boy, fitting him to meet his mother without 
 shocking her. I hardly dare trust myself with the 
 thought of seeing Jessie. Suppose, dear Richard, 
 after all, I fail to win her for my wife! What do 
 you think will become of me? May I quote a few 
 lines from an ancient Chinese philosopher? Men- 
 cius was not civilized as we rate civilization, but 
 his thoughts are gems. Let us hope they fit my 
 experience, especially as to supplying my incom- 
 pleteness. 'When Heaven is about to confer a 
 great office on any man it first exercises his mind 
 with suffering, and his sinews and bones with toil. 
 It exposes his body to hunger, subjects him to ex- 
 treme poverty, and confounds his understanding. 
 In all these ways it stimulates his mind, strengthens 
 his nature, and supplies his incompleteness.' 
 
 " Well, I have suffered ; I have had my sinews 
 sorely taxed, have been exposed to all kinds of
 
 130 THE RED MOON 
 
 weather, have been hungry; and now my mind is 
 troubled, fearing this may not be Jessie's boy. 
 
 " If all this worry has the effect of stimulating 
 my energy, I may yet round up as one not entirely 
 given up by either God or man. Place the letters 
 wo before the man, and emphasize it if you will. 
 
 " Richard, do you think the dream of my young 
 manhood will be realized? Jessie's face is as fresh 
 in my memory as if we parted yesterday, I with a 
 wicked vow on my lips, to bury myself in the wilds 
 of the West. Intense desire prompts me now to 
 quit my roving life, and hope lures me eastward. 
 
 " Do try to find out where Jessie is, and let me 
 know. 
 
 " May you never be tried in love, as I have been. 
 No one could suffer more than I have suffered. 
 " Your true friend, 
 
 " WALLIS BENTONE. 
 
 " P. S. Do not forget to ferret out the mystery 
 connected with Miss Baxter. I can't rest until I 
 find out who she is what a kind heart she must 
 have to offer twenty thousand dollars for one small 
 boy!"
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE RED MOON GOES DOWN 
 
 "If we only knew the heart-aches, 
 
 The struggles and the tears, 
 That follow like a phantom 
 The wake of human years." 
 
 E. STUART WEED. 
 
 BENTONE'S letter from San Francisco, and his 
 friend's letter from Italy, cross amid ocean, as 
 friendly letters often do. 
 
 Richard writes from Naples, Italy: 
 
 " MY DEAR BENTONE : 
 
 " Did you ever hear the saying, ' See Naples and 
 die ' ? Well, I have seen Naples, but I am not 
 ready to die. I must say, however, that the inter- 
 mingling of color in sky and sea cannot be imag- 
 ined. Such lights and shades I never saw in any 
 place other than Naples. The sun seems to shine 
 brighter, the breezes blow more gently, whilst the 
 sea glistens with prismatic colors. 
 
 " At college we read in Cicero, and Horace, of 
 the beauties of this country; now, I realize these 
 
 131
 
 182 THE RED MOON 
 
 writers did not exaggerate, or even overdraw the 
 description. 
 
 "Vesuvius, of course, is the central object of in- 
 terest, with occasionally a mysterious outburst of 
 flame, and a graceful crest of smoke. Here at 
 Naples, many things suggest Syria, with its an- 
 cient tribes of men. Here, too, the fruit trees are 
 laden with luscious fruit, and the sea gives rare 
 and choice fish. Perhaps this is the reason the na- 
 tives are so indolent. Their domestic life is lived 
 out of doors ; they revel in sunshine, and for food 
 are content with a bowl of macaroni and cheese, or 
 a glass of wine, with melons and grapes. 
 
 " When they sleep is a mystery. All night long 
 I hear them passing back and forth, talking, laugh- 
 ing and, I'm sure, gesticulating. No one walks 
 who can ride, and I have seen fifteen clamber into 
 a small vehicle, with one poor overworked donkey to 
 pull the cart, goaded on by blows and threats from 
 the driver. 
 
 "I have greatly enjoyed the museums, but of 
 these things you have read in books. I must tell 
 you, however, that at Pompeii I watched the slow 
 excavation of a small marble figure, in the center of 
 an old fountain decorated with seashells, and inlaid 
 with lapis lazuli. 
 
 " One afternoon we spent in this silent charnal 
 house of a voluptuous city, that, two thousand
 
 THE RED MOON GOES DOWN 133 
 
 years ago, was suddenly buried. We left reluc- 
 tantly, just as the sun sank down beyond Ischia. 
 The sky was flooded with an amber light which 
 recalled forcibly old Izaak Walton's words : ' If 
 God gives such beauty for us sinful creatures here 
 on earth, what must He not have prepared for His 
 saints in Heaven ? ' 
 
 " ROME, 
 " HOTEL EDEN. 
 
 " I was interrupted, and so failed to post this 
 letter in Naples. Here I am in my old quarters 
 at the delightful Hotel Eden. 
 
 " The night of my return, I was placed at a 
 small round table in the dining-room; and near me, 
 at another, sat two ladies in deep black. They 
 arrived during my absence in the South. I knew 
 at a glance they were not sisters ; the younger is 
 pretty, with a sweet, sad face and an abundance of 
 snow-white hair, which made me think, involuntarily, 
 ' Winter is intermingled with spring.' The other 
 lady cannot be called pretty, but she has the fa- 
 cial expression of an angel; her deep-set brown eyes 
 sent a thrill through my nerves, when I chanced to 
 meet her glance. 
 
 " ' Hold your breath,' as you once expressed 
 yourself, when I tell you that these two ladies are 
 Miss Albina Baxter and Mrs. Jubal Lane of New 
 York. Now, Bentone, see what a chance you have
 
 THE RED MOON 
 
 missed by not coming over, and joining me in my 
 travels, instead of going/on a ' wild-goose chase ' 
 over the West in search for a child whose mythical 
 abduction by a red man was the creation of a news- 
 paper reporter. I hope by this time you have real- 
 ized your folly in flying off merely from impulse 
 to do a noble deed. You had far better be here 
 to try and cheer Mrs. Lane. Her face is a study 
 in its combination of suffering and peace. I am 
 not surprised that you loved her so ardently. She 
 is still pretty, but must have been a beauty in her 
 youth. 
 
 " The world is indeed small after all, is it not ? 
 
 " My first impulse led me to seek these ladies, and 
 introduce myself as your friend; but remembering 
 your wish I have waited for chance skillfully helped 
 to throw me into their society. Do, Bentone, 
 hasten to Rome, and try to cheer Mrs. Lane. I 
 heard last night from a lady in the hotel that 
 Miss Baxter has done everything in her power, 
 backed by a fortune, to find the whereabouts of 
 Mrs. Lane's son, whom, it seems, she has made her 
 legal heir. The two women have now reluctantly 
 settled to the belief that the boy is dead suc- 
 cumbed to the hardships of a cruel life. My in- 
 formant says that Miss Albina is as much crushed 
 by the loss as the mother, but being unselfish, she 
 thinks more of the happiness of others than of her
 
 THE RED MOON GOES DOWN 135 
 
 own. She is traveling, with Mrs. Lane as her 
 guest, trying by every means to soothe the mother's 
 heartache over the disappearance of her only child. 
 I am told that Miss Baxter is one of the most re- 
 markable women of the century, well read, and 
 highly cultured, with a sweet, gentle manner that 
 wins everyone with whom she comes in contact. 
 You know women are apt to tell all the gossip they 
 hear in a hotel, hence the sad story of Miss Albina 
 is no secret. It seems she was engaged to a man 
 whose first name was the same as yours ; he was 
 lost at sea, many years ago, as the ship neared the 
 port of New York. Instead of rushing into the 
 vortex of society for diversion, this heiress dedi- 
 cated her life, and money, to the amelioration of 
 suffering. They say her cup of sorrow has been 
 filled to the brim. Strange, that trials were pre- 
 dicted for her while she rested, an innocent baby, in 
 her cradle. I am told an Indian squaw muttered 
 these words : ' Baby moon rise like blood. Baby 
 bend with trouble seven times. Baby no break. 
 Baby sun go down in gold, bright like day.' My 
 informant says the seventh trial overtook Miss Bax- 
 ter during her voyage, when her mother died sud- 
 denly. By the daughter's wish, in the soft evening 
 light, as the sun sank behind the horizon, looking 
 like a great red ball of fire, her mother's body was 
 committed to the sea. Below the waves, on opal-
 
 136 THE RED MOON 
 
 tinted couches, her lover and mother now rest where 
 no rough winds will ever disturb their long sleep. 
 
 " People are wondering if Miss Albina will marry, 
 and fulfil the end of the prophecy with some other 
 lover, for old maids are not likely to have a glo- 
 riously bright sunset. Bentone, you will laugh 
 when I confess to a curious quivering of my heart 
 when I'm in Miss Albina's company: a sensation I 
 fail to analyze. It cannot be love, for I came 
 abroad to overcome my love for a girl my mother 
 disapproved of my marrying. I still love her, but 
 as mother is dead, I feel morally bound to respect 
 her wish. 
 
 " What is love, anyway ? Is an affinity for an- 
 other the same as true love? Give your definition 
 in your next letter. I advise you to take an early 
 eastward-bound ship and join me in Rome. Mrs. 
 Lane needs you to cheer her lonely heart. Hoping 
 to welcome you, I am your true friend, 
 
 " RICHARD." 
 
 Bentone is stirred to the depths of his heart by 
 this letter. With definite news of his beloved Jessie, 
 he makes hasty preparation for his journey to New 
 York, saying, " I must seek Jessie. If I lose sight 
 of her, I may never have a chance to renew my love- 
 making." 
 
 In Chicago he hears that Miss Albina Baxter is
 
 THE RED MOON GOES DOWN 137 
 
 to address a large meeting of " Woman's Christian 
 Temperance Union " workers early in May. Jessie 
 will of course be with her; and he almost decides to 
 remain in the magic city until their arrival. 
 
 March winds are scurrying around the street 
 corners, and to his excited mind the month of May 
 is a long way off. He boards an express train for 
 New York, uncertain whether or not he will go to 
 Europe. Walli.s Bee Lane is still his constant com- 
 panion, and is making good progress in his studies.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 AT THE DOCKS 
 
 " Thine eyes are stars to hold me 
 To love's pure rapturous height; 
 Thy thoughts are pearls to lead me 
 To truth beyond earth's sight; 
 Thy love is life to keep me 
 Forever in God's light." 
 
 ELIZABETH PORTER GOULD. 
 
 THE steamer Mary Powell, plying on the Hudson 
 River between New York and Kingston, stops at 
 her dock at Nyack. 
 
 A gentleman, a boy, and a dog land. With 
 quick steps they hurry up Elm Avenue. The man's 
 face is bronzed, and he appears to be very nervous 
 as he whistles a low tune. The muscular lad halts 
 now and then to spell the letters on brass door- 
 plates. Again, he dashes forward with his dog in 
 chase of twittering sparrows. 
 
 It is a delicious spring morning, musical with 
 the songs of birds, singing their love songs among 
 the bursting buds. There is still a crispness in the 
 air, but the backbone of winter is broken. A pair 
 
 138
 
 AT THE DOCKS 139 
 
 of robins, just arrived from the South, hold sweet 
 counsel, as to where they shall build their nest. 
 
 Reaching number eighteen, the man hesitates, 
 for his courage fails him, and he stands looking at 
 the white marble steps, immaculate from the house 
 maid's careful cleaning. He passes his handker- 
 chief over his brow, evidently to gain a moment's 
 respite ; then he climbs the steps and reaches to 
 lift the old bronze knocker. There is a visible 
 tremor in his hand, and he counts, unconsciously, 
 the black spots made by Nero's paws on the snowy 
 marble. 
 
 His young companion notices this hesitation, and 
 with the spring of an athlete he seizes the knocker 
 and gives three loud knocks, quick, firm, such as a 
 telegraph boy gives. Both mistress and maid are 
 startled by the sound, and hurry to the front of 
 the house. Mrs. Thomas dreads to have news of 
 such importance as to be sent by wire. 
 
 The door opens, Bentone's quick ear hears the 
 rustle of silk, and he enters unceremoniously, and 
 throws his arms around his aunt's neck before she 
 realizes who it is. 
 
 She is startled and amazed. 
 
 "Aunt Alice, don't you know me? Wallis, your 
 roving Wallis from the West ? " 
 
 She makes no reply, but her head drops heavily 
 to her nephew's shoulder, and tears rise and fill her
 
 140 THE RED MOON 
 
 eyes. Sad memories rush to mind as she stands 
 quite still, thinking of the time when she sat watch- 
 ing for the coming of this nephew, due to arrive 
 from Europe in company with his cousin, Alice Grey. 
 The great ship came not, but she still hopes that 
 she may have news of her niece. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas wears a breakfast cap of soft white 
 lace, and her silver curls hang loose about her 
 cheeks. Wallis Bee Lane notices this, and says 
 timidly, " Ma-ma, purty white hair." Then he steps 
 forward and puts his brown hands into Mrs. 
 Thomas's. Her maternal love is strong, and this 
 boy is someone's son ; she quietly, graciously greets 
 him, with a questioning look toward her nephew. 
 He understands, and drawing her aside, whispers : 
 " Aunt Alice, that boy is my dear Jessie's long-lost 
 son. Before going West I told you of her marry- 
 ing Jubal Lane, thinking I was drowned at sea. 
 Jubal Lane proved to be a worthless fellow, but 
 this is Jessie's child, and I risked my life to rescue 
 him from a tribe of Chicopee Indians. Sometime 
 I will tell you my experiences." 
 
 Mrs. Thomas leads the way to the wing of the 
 house, where, in a glass aviary, she keeps the 
 younglings from a pair of canaries, pets of her 
 niece, Alice Grey. The old home at eighteen Elm 
 Avenue for long has been in the Thomas family. 
 Heavy shadows fall aslant from the stately old
 
 AT THE DOCKS 141 
 
 elms on to a carpet of grass as soft as an Oriental 
 rug. And leaning against the side of the house, 
 Wallis Bee Lane finds a large steel hoop, once the 
 plaything of Alice Grey. He sends it whirling 
 around the garden, his face radiant with delight. 
 In due course a letter comes from Richard McKellar 
 with the welcome news that he is to sail on the 
 Russia, and that he will have Miss Baxter and 
 Mrs. Lane under his care. 
 
 As the days come and go, Bentone grows impa- 
 tient for the arrival of the Russia. To-morrow 
 yes, to-morrow the ship is due to land her pas- 
 sengers in New York. He counts the chimes of the 
 village clock the night through. The hours seem 
 interminable. 
 
 In the clear light of a gloriously bright May 
 morning Wallis Bentone secretes himself in a corner 
 of the New York dock, and watches the passengers 
 of the Russia go down the gangplank. " There she 
 is." With difficulty he restrains his impulse to 
 speak to Mrs. Lane, in spite of his resolve not to 
 meet her in public. With a loving, hungry gaze 
 he watches as Richard assists his friends to a car- 
 riage, and then he turns to greet Richard. 
 
 The college chums have a happy meeting time, 
 and by Mrs. Thomas's invitation Richard goes to 
 Nyack for the night. 
 
 In bed, the curtains looped back, the two friends
 
 THE RED MOON 
 
 talk of their trials and disappointments, their pleas- 
 ures and prospects for the future. Although full 
 of new hope, Bentone says, " Richard, I'm a wreck, 
 a mere wanderer over the face of the earth. Oh, 
 yes, a skilful Nimrod, I'll admit. Once I planned 
 to settle down with happiness as the keystone and 
 climax of my ambition, with Jessie Lea for my wife. 
 But a scoundrel intervened and cut me out. I have 
 rained curses upon the man, Jubal Lane, who sat 
 like a stoic while I bade my Jessie his wife good- 
 bye." Bentone's blood runs quicker at the very rec- 
 ollection, and he sits bolt upright. " The rascal 
 has gone to his just reward he's gone to hell. He 
 deserves his doom for deceiving Jessie." 
 
 Then he throws himself back on his pillow, and 
 says: 
 
 " Dick, I tried to drown my disappointment in 
 the wilderness and threw away my chances for a 
 profitable career. Fate held me. Then suddenly, 
 one night a hidden force enveloped me, seized me, 
 gripped me firmly and led me as a blind man to- 
 ward a goal that may yet be Paradise. A strange 
 desire filled my heart and urged me to undertake 
 that * wild-goose chase.' You know the outcome 
 the finding of Jessie's son." 
 
 Richard, too, is nervous. " Stop moralizing, 
 Bentone; think of coming joy, not of past trials, 
 or blasted hopes. Forget Mrs. Lane's unfortunate
 
 AT THE DOCKS 143 
 
 marriage. You have another chance to win her. 
 She is not young, but her smile is sweet and indica- 
 tive of a true woman. You may yet enjoy your 
 dream of happiness. Compare your lot with my 
 own. I must either dishonor my precious mother's 
 memory, or give up my sweetheart. I am virtually 
 without a ray of hope for the future, and I return 
 to a desolate home, where I shall miss my mother." 
 
 Richard tosses his pillow to the foot of the bed, 
 stretches himself, and lies stiff and still. He essays 
 to master his tongue, to smother a strong impulse 
 to tell Bentone of his growing interest in the heir- 
 ess, Miss Baxter. The .seventh trial has failed to 
 break her brave spirit, the red moon of her destiny 
 has gone below the horizon, now why can he not 
 help to bring about the bright sunset predicted by 
 the Indian squaw? 
 
 Bentone is bubbling over with excitement. His 
 thoughts are strangely commingled with the facts 
 of the past and hopes for the future. 
 
 " Richard, I gave Jessie up, never expecting to 
 see her again." 
 
 " All right, friend, but do recall that you are 
 soon to be fully repaid for your pain, your manly 
 heroism." 
 
 " Heroism ! " and Bentone laughs a bitter laugh. 
 " Heroism ! It was anything but heroism. It was 
 merely the cringing of my soul in face of a woman's
 
 144 THE RED MOON 
 
 suffering, a woman I adored, and whose eyes 
 pleaded for peace. I tell you, Dick, but for Jessie's 
 silent appeal the day I told her good-bye, I would 
 to-night be lying in a murderer's grave. I went 
 West rather than be a witness of my darling's suf- 
 fering." 
 
 Softly he whistles the tune to old " John Brown," 
 that is in the mouth of every street boy in New 
 York. Only for John Brown's name he substitutes 
 that of Jubal Lane. 
 
 On the brink of his happiness he is swept with 
 a medley of emotions. One moment he glows with 
 expectant joy, the next, the shadow of doubt ob- 
 scures the last lingering ray of hope. For conso- 
 lation and strength he turns to his friend. It is 
 so much more comforting than the companionship 
 of Nero, now asleep at the foot of the bed. 
 
 "Richard, dare I hope to call Jessie my wife? 
 What are my chances ? Tell me your opinion ? " 
 
 " They are fine, without a shadow of doubt. Re- 
 member, you bring her boy back, and your reward 
 will surely come." 
 
 And Bentone, with this sweet hope in his heart, 
 falls asleep. 
 
 And in the Fifth Avenue Hotel, at Twenty-third 
 Street, two ladies, weary from a sea voyage, are 
 unconscious of the happiness in store for them.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE REUNION 
 
 " Ah, me ! it was he that won her 
 Because he dared to climb." 
 
 T. B. ALDRICH. 
 
 RICHARD MCKELLAR is the bearer of the follow- 
 ing note to Mrs. Lane: 
 
 " NYACK-ON-HUDSON. 
 " DEAR MRS. LANE : 
 
 " I am glad to hear that you have arrived in 
 New York. When you and Miss Baxter are rested 
 from your long and very rough voyage, will you 
 both come and spend a few days with me? 
 
 " I hope you were able to find the photograph 
 duplicates of those my dear Alice Grey had bought 
 for her aunt. A friend in New York gave you the 
 list, and I should be so pleased to have them from 
 your own hands. 
 
 " Mr. Richard McKellar, of Chicago, who is my 
 guest, will meet you at the dock with my carriage, 
 any day you name. Could you come to-morrow 
 by the five o'clock boat? 
 
 145
 
 146 THE RED MOON 
 
 " Do excuse my not driving down ; I am quite 
 feeble. Sorrow has bowed me; nevertheless God is 
 good to me. You, too, have suffered, but being 
 still young you can look forward to renewed hap- 
 piness. Hoping, then, to see you soon, 
 " I am yours cordially, 
 
 " ALICE THOMAS." 
 
 With a touch of pathos in her voice, Mrs. Lane 
 reads this letter aloud to Albina. 
 
 "Will you accept? I'm sure it will tax you to 
 meet Alice Grey's aunt, but do go, for it will cheer 
 Mrs. Thomas to be in your sweet presence." Then 
 she places her arms about the woman who has been 
 all the world to her. 
 
 Putting aside her own feelings, Albina replies: 
 " Yes, certainly we will go." A keen observer 
 might have detected a tremor in her voice, and 
 there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 On Thursday afternoon Richard McKellar drives 
 to the boat landing in the little village of Nyack 
 to meet the visitors. 
 
 Bentone shuts himself in the library with the boy 
 Wallis. He attempts to teach him the game of 
 battledoor and shuttlecock; but this taxes him, 
 then he builds a tower with cards, but his hand 
 quivers and the paper palace collapses. He turns 
 listlessly the pages of a colored picture book.
 
 THE REUNION 147 
 
 Though strong and valiant under ordinary circum- 
 stances, to-day he is as nervous as a woman. He 
 has repeatedly pictured the scene of Jessie receiving 
 her lost boy, but as the hour draws near, the 
 thought unnerves him. He is still wondering if the 
 love of Jessie, once wholly his, will again answer 
 to the quick throbs of his own heart ? " That love 
 that will reinvigorate my whole life," he says to 
 himself, " and enable me to settle down to manly 
 work." 
 
 In the midst of these thoughts, the boy at his 
 side startles him. His quick ear has caught the 
 sound of carriage wheels on the driveway, and he 
 springs to his feet, and tries to go and greet Mr. 
 McKellar's return. 
 
 Bentone restrains him. Only a thin partition 
 now separates him from the woman he idolizes, and 
 yet he must wait. 
 
 Mrs. Lane and Miss Albina, having thrown off 
 their wraps, and composed themselves after meet- 
 ing Mrs. Thomas, sit in the oak-trimmed drawing- 
 room, watching the play of color as the evening 
 sun gleams between the branches of the stately elms 
 in the yard. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas excuses herself for a few moments. 
 She enters the library with her eyes still moist, yet 
 her manner shows the equanimity of a well-bred 
 woman.
 
 148 THE RED MOON 
 
 Bentone places his arms about her feeble form to 
 support her. Her voice trembles. " My dear Wal- 
 lis, may God bless and reward you fully for each 
 trial, each danger you have endured." 
 
 Then, with Wallis Bee clinging to her motherly 
 hand, she leads the way to the drawing-room. 
 
 With a startled cry, Mrs. Lane rushes forward, 
 for she recognizes the sunburnt faces of the two in 
 the world nearest her heart. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas can barely articulate, so deep is 
 her emotion. 
 
 "Mrs. Lane, God is indeed good to restore to 
 you your precious child." 
 
 Albina utters not a word. There are emotions of 
 the heart deeper than words can express. Let the 
 curtain fall in front of a scene too touching and 
 sacred for portrayal. 
 
 Over the village of Nyack rests an unusual quiet ; 
 no jarring notes mar the sweet harmony of a re- 
 union in the quaint old homestead beneath the an- 
 cient elms, and, outside, one by one, the little birds 
 tuck their heads under their wings and go to sleep 
 in the branches. 
 
 From a distance comes the soft notes of a flute 
 playing " Long, long ago," while in a little cottage 
 near by a mother tries to lull her baby to sleep. 
 Her voice rises and falls like the voice of one
 
 THE REUNION 149 
 
 physically weak, as she chants, over and over, a 
 familiar child's lullaby: 
 
 " Bye baby bunting, 
 Papa's gone a-hunting 
 To get a little rabbit skin 
 To wrap the baby bunting in." 
 
 Richard and Albina stand at the western window 
 listening to the plaintive song of the woman of toil. 
 Albina is formulating plans for the morrow to sup- 
 ply this mother's needs. The golden light of a 
 brilliant sunset envelopes her sombre form and casts 
 a glow over her face, radiant with the joy of the 
 reunion of Mrs. Lane and her son. 
 
 Richard's heart beats quick and fast with a sen- 
 sation he makes no effort to analyze, but he recalls 
 the singular prophecy of the Indian squaw about 
 the glorious sunset that is to be Albina's heritage. 
 
 Jessie Lane sits on the sofa with one hand encir- 
 cling her boy, the other covered by a brown and 
 powerful palm. The child is toying with her snow- 
 white hair. " This is my Ma-ma." He jumps to 
 his feet, and rushing into Albina's open arms, says, 
 " Aunty, oh, aunty, where is granny? " 
 
 Tears are in Albina's eyes as she points to the 
 brilliant sunset. " God has granny in his safe- 
 keeping up yonder in the beautiful heaven." 
 
 Stepping to where Mrs. Lane sits, she says,
 
 150 THE RED MOON 
 
 " Mother is happy ; she knows our boy is safe, and 
 this bright sunset is the reflection of her smile." 
 
 Deeply touched, Richard McKellar stands a si- 
 lent witness of his friend's happiness. 
 
 Months after this, Richard has a letter from his 
 former classmate. 
 
 " 18 ELM AVENUE, NYACK. 
 " MY DEAR RICHARD : 
 
 " You will be glad to know that in a few weeks 
 I am to marry my dear Jessie, the only woman I 
 ever loved. I tell you, first love is not to be dupli- 
 cated. I'm still on my knees at the shrine of Jes- 
 sie's heart. We are to be married November six- 
 teenth, after which we go for a ten-days' visit to 
 relatives in Norfolk, Virginia. Miss Albina is to 
 join us in New York, and go to Boston, and Port- 
 land, Maine. We are deciding upon a school in 
 which to place ' our boy.' Wallis Bee is rich in 
 friends. He is Miss Albina's legal heir, and Aunt 
 Alice talks of leaving him a .snug little sum of 
 money. She is so much amused with the curious 
 games he learned when with the Indians. Best of 
 all, she delights to see him running beside cousin 
 Alice's big steel hoop. He always .spends Sunday 
 here. 
 
 " My precious little Jessie is wondering if she 
 dare promise to obey, she has been her own mistress
 
 THE REUNION 151 
 
 so long. I say, Hang the word ' obey ' ! I'm willing 
 myself to promise to obey, if Jessie be the one to 
 give the command. She insists I'm not fit to be a 
 husband until my egotism is humbled by my re- 
 fusals at the hand of seven women. Well, as Jessie 
 is my first and only love, I need six others to per- 
 fect me. My one trial is far worse than the ' no ' 
 of a hundred fair maids. Indeed, I'm going to do 
 my best to make Jessie happy. In reality my life 
 is just beginning, for Jubal Lane upset all my 
 plans. I suppose I am a cad to cuss him occa- 
 sionally, but can you blame me, Dick? It does a 
 fellow good sometimes to express his feelings with- 
 out gloss or varnish. I'll say this much for my 
 Jessie: she never allows me to give vent in her 
 presence. She puts her little hand on mine and 
 says, ' Wallis, remember he is the father of my son.' 
 
 " You may be sure, Dick, I'm as dumb as an 
 oyster then. 
 
 " Now, I'm going to give you a word of advice. 
 Why don't you follow my example and get you a 
 wife? not a * Boston blue-stocking,' who might in- 
 deed be an inspiration to a man of letters like 
 yourself, but a gentle, loving woman the sort you 
 can cuddle in your arms. I tell you, Dick, learn- 
 ing and brain power won't count over against such 
 a woman. Jessie thinks Miss Albina will never 
 marry that she will never get over her grief at
 
 152 THE RED MOON 
 
 the loss of her lover on the ill-fated Dorogan; but 
 in my own mind I believe she will. You two would 
 make a fine couple. 
 
 " This letter is as long and wordy as a woman's, 
 and you will laugh at it, I know. You will think, 
 * Such a letter from a man who has slept in the 
 forest with only a dog for companionship, who has 
 stolen up to Indian campfires, and more than once 
 taken his life in his hands ! ' The truth is, I'm so 
 happy I believe I could jump over the moon, for 
 very joy. Good-bye, Dick. 
 
 " I hope a bright sunset will encircle you and 
 your future wife, just such a brilliant one as .seems 
 now to surround the life of your happy college 
 chum, WALLIS B. BENTONE." 
 
 (In " The Yellow Star," the sequel to this book, 
 the prophecy over Albina's cradle will be fulfilled.)
 
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