pHN SHERWOOD^ 
 IRONMASTERS! 
 
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3rd Recruit Company 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
JFiction. 
 
 HUGH WYNNE. 
 
 CONSTANCE TRESCOT. 
 
 THE YOUTH OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCE. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS. 
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK. 
 
 DR. NORTH AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 ROLAND BLAKE. 
 
 FAR IN THE FOREST. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN. 
 
 A MADEIRA PARTY. 
 
 THE RED CITY. 
 
 HEPHZIBAH GUINNESS. 
 
 A COMEDY OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 A DIPLOMATIC ADVENTURE. 
 
 THE GUILLOTINE CLUB. 
 
 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER. 
 
 DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 
 WEAR AND TEAR HINTS FOR THE 
 OVERWORKED. 
 
 COLLECTED POEMS. 
 
 THE WAGER, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 THE COMFORT OF THE HILLS. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, 
 IRONMASTER 
 
 BY 
 
 S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D., LL.D. 
 
 Author of " Hugh Wynne," " The Adventures of Francois," 
 and " Constance Trescot," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1911 
 
Copyright 1911, by 
 THE CENTURY Co. 
 
 Published, May, 1911 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 RICHARD WATSON GILDER 
 
Men must endure 
 Their going hence, even as their coming hither; 
 
 Ripeness is all. 
 
 Lear. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
A STUDY of the mental and moral character 
 istics of children as altered, lost or valuably 
 developed later in life would, I think, be interesting. 
 Especially would this apply to the receptive and in 
 ventive imagination so often found in children and 
 so often to all appearance lost as time affords ma 
 terial contradictions to the day dreams of the years 
 of awakening intelligence. 
 
 This quality which makes children wordless poets 
 and is of the heaven which lies about us in our 
 infancy may usefully reappear in manhood as an 
 essential, not only of the poet but of the man of 
 science and the inventor. In midlife it may ripen 
 anew into forms of product which have something 
 of the joyous freedom, the self -born beliefs, which are 
 the prerogatives of that king of faeryland, the child. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, 
 IRONMASTER 
 
 MY father was killed in battle with the Sioux and 
 three months later my birth cost my mother an 
 illness which, during my third year, ended her life. 
 There was very little available property. Certain 
 wild lands in Maine only productive of taxes were 
 my sole inheritance. My two uncles, elder brothers 
 of my mother, found their bachelor lives charged 
 with the embarrassment of an infant. Even my birth 
 must have been an unusual event in the family, for it 
 was long since such an occurrence and now the 
 baby no one wanted was an orphan and to be con 
 sidered. The two men who decided my early fate 
 were long afterwards described by my cousin, Dr. 
 Harry Heath, as born aged and as having from child 
 hood some of the mental and moral peculiarities of 
 advanced life. I have never seen children like those 
 relatives of mine and I am not quite sure that I un 
 derstood what he meant, but certainly from my first 
 remembrance of my uncles, they changed very lit 
 tle in body or mind and were generally regarded 
 as somewhat eccentric persons. Although Richard 
 
4 ... .JOHN SHERW.OQD, IRONMASTER 
 
 and Robert were twins, they were singularly unlike 
 in jc>iztwi*d- iappear&nce.,. 1 Both were slightly under 
 middle size, but while Robert was stout, ruddy, and 
 had dark hair and the side whiskers then known 
 as mutton chop, his brother was thin, pale and 
 even ascetic in appearance and, as I first recall 
 him, a man quite bald and clean shaven. The 
 resemblance so common in twins, so entirely absent 
 in the case of my uncles, was almost unnaturally 
 complete in their mental and moral characteristics. 
 Indeed so much alike were they that it was easy 
 to predict what one would say from knowing what 
 the other had said. Both were sparing of words 
 and yet more sparing of money. Inheriting a se 
 cure, long-held, family business, they conducted it 
 on conservative lines with some business talent, but 
 without business genius. 
 
 I am fond of quoting my cousin, Dr. Heath, per 
 haps because he not only said unusual things, but 
 because they were apt to set me upon untrodden 
 paths of thought. 
 
 Once when we were young men, each doing his 
 life work with every faculty in energetic service, he 
 said, "John, that was an odd thing Euphemia said 
 last night. You know she never abuses people, even 
 our uncles, although she loathes them with good rea 
 son. When I had spoken of something unpleasant 
 they had agreed upon as my mother s trustees, 
 Euphemia said, They are as much alike as two peas, 
 and two very dried-up peas at that. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 5 
 
 "I said, Cousin, no two peas are unmistakably 
 the same. Euphemia retorted, I said alike, not the 
 same/ I owned to defeat, which pleased the dear 
 woman. In fact, those two old men are, in mind, 
 enough alike to encourage disbelief in the one law 
 without exception, the law of absolute individuality." 
 
 I liked this for I knew very well that although 
 two machines may be, as concerns construction and 
 material, to all appearances identical, they never 
 prove in their working to have the same capacity or 
 length of usefulness. 
 
 Those two human machines, my uncles, were at 
 one as concerned that infant, me, and my disposal. 
 
 The third human providence in my helpless life 
 was this remote cousin, Euphemia Swanwick, of 
 whom I shall have much to say. She had from time 
 to time uncertain theoretical views concerning the 
 management of my changing child life. Her for 
 tunate incapacity to carry out her theories was due to 
 two other interfering providences, my cousin s black 
 servants, to whose experienced knowledge of the wants 
 and needs of infants I owed much of the health and 
 happiness of these early years. 
 
 Euphemia was a personage of such dignified be 
 havior that to see her with abruptness begin to 
 mimic people she disliked was at times startling even 
 to those who knew her well. She had in fact a 
 talent for mimicry which her good manners usually 
 kept in the social background. I mention it here 
 because it was incidentally the means of my knowing 
 
6 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 something of the way in which I was placed in her 
 care. 
 
 When I was some twenty years old and Euphemia 
 had acquired an intimacy with me she never won in 
 my infancy, a question of mine brought out one of 
 these exhibitions of hostile mimicry which left with 
 me a contributed memory of a time of life of which 
 I could otherwise have had no knowledge and which 
 may serve here as an introduction to my own ac 
 count of John Sherwood. 
 
 "John, your Uncle Richard s supply of words was 
 as nearly dried up then as now. By and by he 
 will use only signs." Then she hunched up her 
 large shoulders, stooped, and said, "That is Dick. 
 Robert is inconceivable and," with a laugh, "in 
 imitable. They came together to my little house and 
 I knew you were the subject to be considered. 
 This was when your mother was not yet buried." 
 Here again was the queer presentation of Uncle Dick. 
 I laughed out my applause of what was a wonderful 
 rendering, " Euphemia, you are to take that baby. 
 
 We so concluded/ said Robert. 
 
 You will have an increase of the regular check/ 
 
 An increase/ said Robert. 
 
 Am I to do as I please with the baby? 
 
 No, do as we please. We will send you a state 
 ment of what we wish done. 
 
 And not done/ said Robert. 
 
 Yes/ said Richard, not done. 
 
 " Thank you, brothers. " 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 7, 
 
 "And was that really all?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, that was all, and that was the simple cere 
 mony by which I acquired you. My butcher could not 
 have left me a leg of mutton with more indifference. 
 Oh, John, I hated you and them. Dick is mean but 
 Robert is a spendthrift of meanness. He looks he 
 watches for chances like a cat at a mousehole. And 
 indeed, as concerned my uncles, she had reason 
 enough for her dislike. 
 
 The family council thus resulted in their turning 
 for aid to my Cousin Euphemia, then a maiden lady 
 under thirty. This was of necessity rather than of 
 choice. They were of middle age and lived very 
 isolated lives in an old home high above the Schuyl- 
 kill beyond the village of Manayunk and a mile or 
 so from the family possession, certain moderately 
 productive iron works conducted, as I have said, in 
 a very conservative way, making small profits which 
 they put away in safe bonds or permanent ground 
 rents. This easily won competence brought them no 
 luxuries except the privilege of undisturbed habits 
 of precise and punctual lives which they were with 
 out desire to have troubled by the intrusion of obvious 
 duties. 
 
 I learned later that they had been reluctant to hand 
 me over to Euphemia. In early womanhood she had 
 shocked the old society of Philadelphia by becoming 
 a Roman Catholic and had broken off a match with an 
 army officer because she declined to marry unless he 
 accepted the conditions her church imposed. She 
 
8 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 had lived ever since on the small income my uncles 
 allowed her. This was now to be increased, but not 
 largely, and I was consigned to her care with a writ 
 ten statement to the effect that in no way was she 
 to interfere with my being brought up in the faith 
 of the Episcopal Church which they regarded as a 
 family possession. How my religious education was 
 to be conducted they did not say and probably cared 
 very little. They themselves had no more hold on 
 the creed they desired for me than a century of 
 family ownership of a pew in St. Peter s, less likely 
 to be occupied by them than their family vault in 
 the graveyard of the church. 
 
 Once a month Uncle Dick drove to the city and 
 left with Euphemia a cheque which with economy 
 barely sufficed to keep the household. I am sure that 
 they knew it had been and was, far too little, even 
 with their present addition. Euphemia proudly 
 and silently accepted it without thanks. I am sure 
 that they regarded the narrowed life to which their 
 disapproval and meanness condemned her as proper 
 punishment for what they considered to have been 
 both social and religious apostasy. I suspect that 
 they gave little thought to me, their sister s child, 
 and none as to how I might incidentally suffer from 
 their punitive limitation of Euphemia s income. 
 
 Long afterwards, as the years ran on, I often 
 wondered how my cousin regarded the unfriended 
 waif left, as it were, on the doorstep of the small 
 house in Pine Street. She was not fond of children. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 9 
 
 If to love them be an animal instinct, it is easily 
 lost by some single women. I suspect that I was 
 regarded by Euphemia at first with a certain dull 
 dislike, then endured and at last loved, for really I 
 must have been as I grew older an interesting little 
 fellow. 
 
 But this was years later and when I had learned 
 to move with cautious respect among the sturdy 
 chairs and thin-legged Colonial fables she was hap 
 pily prevented by poverty from replacing with the 
 ugliness of the furniture of her own day. As I re 
 call the small front drawing-room, there were no 
 ornaments except on the mantel two nankin jars half 
 full of the gathered rose leaves of three generations. 
 There is a French name for these dead rose-leaf 
 treasuries, none in English, I think. An early re 
 membrance is of my cousin, a tall, handsome woman, 
 consulting a family receipt book and adding fresh 
 rose leaves and strange perfumes to those which 
 hands long dead had stored in the blue vases. 
 
 If I was for Euphemia an unwelcome guest, I was 
 anything but unwelcome to those other providences, 
 my black nurse, Sarah Koonis, and the yet blacker 
 cook. These women were well learned in babies and 
 my cousin, who at first regarded me as an ever- 
 changing puzzle, very willingly left me in my earlier 
 days to be guessed by the maternal-minded blacks 
 who then and later were my ready vassals. 
 
II 
 
 I SHOULD care little to dwell on my childhood 
 were it not that its peculiar conditions and 
 singular social isolation from other young lives left 
 me long without the contradictions and discipline 
 which come out of normal relation to other beings 
 as young as I and of other mental make. I was for 
 tunate in that it did not make me more peculiar, but 
 I am sure that the unusual character of my young 
 life did to some extent affect my later years. I was 
 an only child and a very lonely child. 
 
 When is it that we begin to acquire permanent 
 memories? There are mysterious years and at last 
 remembrances of scenes and people with long un 
 filled gaps and then more distinctly-remembered 
 scenes. The first I now recall impressed me strangely. 
 I see my cousin, a tall, well-made woman, settling a 
 dispute between the baker and our cook. The bill 
 paid weekly was based on the agreement of two tallies, 
 thin laths of wood notched for each loaf by the 
 baker s file when laid together. There was some dis 
 agreement. My cousin was angry. I was wonder 
 ing that anyone ventured to contradict her seeing 
 that she was so big and the baker so small, when I 
 
 10 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 11 
 
 was told to go into the garden. I went out as or 
 dered to amuse myself in the hundred feet of flowers 
 and grass plots under the peach and apricot trees 
 which bore delicious and forbidden fruit. 
 
 Other scenes recur to me, but generally it was 
 this playground and as I became older, when five or 
 six years of age, dull afternoon walks, duller visits 
 to St. Peter s church and overwhelming sleepiness 
 when Euphemia read to me child stories of a morn 
 ing. My cousin had no idea of fitting the book to 
 my age or sex. When I should have had Jack and 
 the Bean-stalk" I was dosed with Sanford and Mer- 
 ton worst of all was a small volume called "Blos 
 soms of Morality." These readings were in the sit 
 ting-room on the second floor, which was adorned 
 with ghastly prints of the martyrdoms of saints. 
 Now and then she was pleased to read their lives 
 to me and I made up my small mind, in the odd 
 secrecy of childhood, that these were very undesirable 
 examples, being distinctly aware that even the mod 
 erate pain of a spanking was more than enough mar 
 tyrdom for me. 
 
 Such mild punishments as I suffered were caused by 
 my increasing tendency to relate as seen by me things 
 which were, more or less, the product of my imagina 
 tion, aided by the tales of animals which my nurse 
 told me out of her long-descended negro folklore. 
 Once I related to my cousin having seen a gold coach 
 with elephants pulling it and as I held to it, I was 
 punished for untruthfulness. I told no more tales 
 
12 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 and fell back on my own mental company with un 
 shaken beliefs. 
 
 I cannot now decide whether I fully believed I had 
 seen certain things which, I became aware as I de 
 scribed them, were not received in a way to encourage 
 me in constant frankness. I dimly remember that I 
 liked to astonish my cousin by my statements. I am 
 now of opinion that my large stories of things seen 
 were, to some extent, exaggerations of things really 
 seen. I suspect, too, that after half believing and 
 telling some wonderful thing, a firm conviction of 
 it as true and real may come about. This happens 
 even to men and, I fancy, more easily to the imagina 
 tive young. If thus I now and then got into trouble 
 as an author of fiction, the tendency had for me real 
 values, and was the source of distinct pleasure. I 
 could give many instances of what might be of serv 
 ice were I dealing only with the psychology of a too 
 solitary childhood. I must content myself, however, 
 with such examples as show how convincing may be 
 the imaginations of these early years. 
 
 Having seen on the street a boy with a bull terrier 
 with golden eyes he called Mike, I asked for a dog, 
 of which animal my cousin had a horror. Failing in 
 this, I acquired in imagination a bull terrier called 
 Mike. He lived in the garden, learned tricks, loved 
 me and was for nearly two years my inconstant com 
 rade. 
 
 Once I saw a circus procession in the street. My 
 nurse went to see this show and I plead in vain to 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 13 
 
 go. I fell back as usual when denied some coveted 
 sight upon my magical power to realize in imagina 
 tion what I could not otherwise attain. My nurse s 
 account of the lion tamer filled me with wonder. I 
 tamed two lions and as my cousin had spoken of 
 St. Jerome as a lion for courage, I called one lion 
 St. Jerome and the other, a lioness, Euphemia, to 
 my nurse s delight. I owned thus for a time a 
 strangely peopled world of my own creation. 
 
 A child resembles some other animals and has likes 
 and dislikes, not always easy to account for. Mine 
 had cause enough. My cousin as I knew far later 
 revelled in spiritual mysteries with an amazing ap 
 petite for beliefs which some have found hard to 
 accept. The credence I desired for my own small 
 products of creative fancy was for her quite another 
 thing, but no tale of mine was too prodigious for 
 my nursery or the kitchen hearers. It was on the 
 whole well that it was so. Even the lesser authors 
 like a receptive audience. 
 
 During these years, I dreamed very often of things 
 I had seen. One day Sarah Koonis stopped with 
 me to let the bearers carry out a coffin and told me 
 a man was in it and was dead and would never move 
 or speak again. That night I was pursued over a 
 boundless plain by hosts of coffins. This I dreamed 
 often. 
 
 I of course cannot fix the dates of my memories, 
 some being early and some later. I have a life-long 
 dislike of the crucifix as a symbol. This came of a 
 
14 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 terrible print on my cousin s wall of the "Agony of 
 the Cross" by Velasquez. It was a present from one 
 of her French friends. With some pride in the gift, 
 Euphemia led me by the hand to look at it as it 
 hung above her prie-Dieu. For a moment I stared 
 at that most realistic of all renderings of the agony 
 of the cross. Then I screamed and ran out of the 
 room. For two or three nights, when about to sleep, 
 I saw the down-dragged figure, the long black locks 
 wet with the death sweat falling over the drooped 
 white face. To this day it is a horrible remembrance. 
 I must then have been about six or seven years old. 
 My cousin still wonders, if I mention it, why it so 
 disturbed me. 
 
 Euphemia s consultations with some of her ac 
 quaintances who were desirous to assist her in the reg 
 ulation of my childhood now and then resulted for me 
 in terrible trials. I was to sleep without the light, 
 which my nurse was accustomed to put out later. I 
 was to go upstairs to bed in the dark. Awful shapes 
 followed me, and I could not go to sleep. As usual 
 these arrangements were soon disposed of by my 
 black allies. But for the first time I so resented 
 what was a real cruelty that I confided to my nurse 
 my intention to hoodoo Euphemia. I had heard of 
 this terrible procedure from an aged black woman, 
 our cook s godmother, who was full of African tra 
 ditional tales of black magic and exceedingly recep 
 tive of my cousin s tea. My plan was discouraged 
 and my vengeance foiled. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 15 
 
 There were other visiting blacks who enjoyed the 
 hospitality of our kitchen and who were some of^ them 
 strange and interesting. One aged woman was said 
 to be an hundred years old and to have seen Wash 
 ington often. She was full of stories about ghosts 
 who were always of great stature and black. Dis 
 couraged in regard to questions by my cousin, I 
 saved them for ready answer by a voluble barber to 
 whom I was taken once a month to have my hair cut. 
 This man was a handsome, old light-colored mulatto 
 called Aaron Burr after his putative father as I have 
 since been told. I had heard so much in church 
 of the Holy Ghost that, with my too ready imagina 
 tion inflamed by kitchen tales of the returning dead, 
 I fell at last into great terror of being visited by 
 this special ghost. 
 
 When I consulted my barber, he told me that 
 so long as my hair was cut once a month I was en 
 tirely secure. This did relieve me. 
 
 My nurse, who pitied my terror, assured me that 
 my barber was rigfet and too advised me not to carry 
 my doubts to Euphemia. 
 
 I do not mean to imply that I was long or con 
 tinually troubled by fear of phantoms, pagan or 
 others. My curiosity was more intense than my fleet 
 ing fears and my life was, on the whole, far other than 
 unhappy. 
 
 One of my most joyous moments was when Eu 
 phemia with many cautions gave me a long-desired 
 jackknife and Sarah Koonis found for me some 
 
16 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 pine shingles. When somewhat later I discovered in 
 the attic a box of tools, I began to develop my one 
 practical talent of inventive work. I remember to 
 have made at last a set of jack straws, spillikins 
 my Uncle Richard called them when my cousin 
 proudly exhibited them, and he declared to my joy 
 that some day he must have me in the iron works 
 and that it was time I learned to read. 
 
 Euphemia undertook to teach me. I had no desire 
 to assist, and found it hard, until I began to know 
 what a new world it opened among the books with 
 prints my secret prowlings discovered in a wonder- 
 filled attic. On the rule of three we both stuck fast 
 and why some fractions are improper she could not 
 tell me. The day before we came onto this arith 
 metical obstacle, I had been found guilty of throwing 
 too-well aimed stones at a neighbor s cat and of mak 
 ing faces at a justly angered cook. I was told that it 
 was highly improper, and now I was to discover that 
 certain fractions were improper. I kept my child 
 puzzle to myself, for being at the age of inquiry, I 
 had learned that like certain people who fail of 
 sympathy with a child, my cousin disliked questions, 
 being in fact, although a woman of many books, of 
 very little basic education. 
 
 I look back with wonder at the unnatural limita 
 tions of my young life and too on the narrowness 
 of Euphemia s. Her few friends were within a 
 small circle of Roman Catholic gentlefolks, descend 
 ants of the early refugees who fled from Hayti 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 17 
 
 or Martinique. Among her acquaintances were also 
 a small number of people belonging to the long-seated 
 Philadelphia families, but most of her friends were 
 old and there were few with whose children I ever 
 became more than merely acquainted. If there had 
 been anyone with the common sense to complain of 
 my strangely isolated life, I might have had it whole 
 somely bettered. I was, however, a well-contented 
 child, good-humored, gaily inventive, well fed and 
 with Nurse Koonis ready to do whatever I desired. 
 
 It can never have occurred to my cousin that I 
 ought to want playmates. In fact, I did not feel or 
 show the want. Her church absorbed Euphemia, as 
 it is apt to do converts; and until later I was in 
 some measure forced upon her attention, she felt no 
 need to enlarge my life. Of my father and mother, 
 who had disliked her change of creed, she never spoke, 
 and I was too young to be exactingly curious, nor 
 were there any relatives to interfere except my 
 uncles, who knew of a child s wants even less than 
 did Euphemia, and even had they known would have 
 cared still less. 
 
 Priests from St. Joseph s and St. Mary s were re 
 sourceful values in her narrow social life. These 
 clerics drew on her small funds and brought her 
 rosaries and the like. One day a Mission priest gave 
 me an Indian doll, a hideous wooden creature in 
 feather dress and leggins. It pleased me until I 
 showed it to my nurse, who broke into wild anger. 
 
 "Why for she let him give you that? The Indians 
 
18 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 killed your father, the brave Colonel, way out west! 
 Did no one tell you?" And then I heard the sad 
 story of a gallant soldier s death. 
 
 I remember that a sudden rage possessed me. My 
 nurse said, "Burn it, Master John," but I was not 
 so minded. The martyrs they burned were good. I 
 ran out into the garden and cut off the Indian s head 
 with my knife. I buried him, feathers and all, and 
 stamped on his grave. Then Mike came, but I only 
 sat down on the porch and cried, which was rare 
 with me, realizing in my too vivid way the Indian 
 fight. I was afraid that my cousin would inquire 
 about the doll. It did not concern her. Few things 
 did. Her horizons of interest were limited. They 
 broadened somewhat in later and happier years. 
 
Ill 
 
 MY eighth birthday, August 11, was memorable. 
 My mother s cousin, Mrs. Heath, had recently 
 come from Lancaster to live in a large house on the 
 Germantown road opposite the graveyard where lie 
 the English dead of the battle of Germantown. We 
 were asked to spend Saturday. Euphemia was 
 enough excited to attract my attention. I felt as if 
 we were about to go to a foreign country, for indeed 
 we had never been able to leave the city. My ac 
 quaintance with nature had been limited to staid 
 walks in Washington Square. Once we were asked, 
 by Uncle Dick, evidently to Euphemia s surprise, to 
 visit the iron works and remain over Sunday, but a 
 heavy rain forbade my cousin to travel those eight 
 miles and so far as I know we were not again invited. 
 Year after year, we endured the long, hot summer 
 in the city, nor was it the custom then as now to 
 spend the whole summer in the country. 
 
 The drive to Mrs. Heath s along the pike, past 
 farms, cattle and country houses was to me as 
 strange, as interesting and as wonderful as it might 
 have been to a young barbarian. I hardly heard 
 my cousin s timid complaints of the risks we ran 
 from being driven so fast. In the large vine-clad 
 
 19 
 
20 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 house set back from the road, Mrs. Heath made us 
 welcome with the usual wine and cakes of the day, 
 and Harry Heath being away on an errand I was 
 lightly bidden to run out and play. 
 
 My cousin said, "But Ann Heath, he never goes 
 out without his nurse." 
 
 "Then it is time he did. What, a nurse at eight! 
 Eun, boy!" my cousin crying, "and do be careful, 
 John!" 
 
 I ran out as bidden, feeling the sense of adventure 
 as I saw the chickens, the cows and Harry s pony 
 and his hutch of guinea pigs. I asked a wondering 
 maid what they were. 
 
 I wandered down an orchard slope and, aware of 
 joyous iniquity, plucked plums and peaches and 
 climbing my first fence sat down beside the brook 
 which crossed a small marshy meadow. 
 
 Here Harry Heath had built a dam and below it 
 a water wheel which did not work. I had then and 
 there a sensation of personal pride because I had 
 contrived to make the hydrant in Euphemia s garden 
 run a better water wheel. Harry might own a pony 
 and guinea pigs, but he could not build a good over 
 shot wheel such as there were pictures of in a book 
 on machines found in our attic. Later when I over 
 heard Aunt Heath say I was more like a nice girl 
 than a boy, this water wheel consoled me and some 
 how raised my estimate of that human variety, a 
 girl, concerning whom I knew little or nothing. 
 
 Pleased with the newly won self-esteem I had 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 21 
 
 acquired, I went rashly to defeat. Beyond the 
 meadow was a deep spring. Of a sudden I came 
 at its margin upon two unknown creatures, enormous 
 bullfrogs who faced my ignorant gaze with golden 
 eyes. One of them uttered the loud cry boys say is 
 * Bloodynoun. " I fled in terror over the brook and 
 up the orchard where I met a handsome lad, Harry 
 Heath, two years older than I and many years wiser 
 in boy knowledge. 
 
 Perhaps counselled by his mother and by a very 
 amiable nature he was then and later kind to me 
 and thus began a life-long friendship. After this 
 we were much together for our common good, and 
 through him during our frequent visits I came to 
 know other boys. He was pleased with my inventive 
 capacity and I learned with him to be less fearful 
 and timid and soon became what my Uncle Dick de 
 scribed as rather a handful for Euphemia. 
 
 As I heard later, Mrs. Heath wrote to him that it 
 was an outrage to bring up a boy as I was being 
 brought up. He resented the interference, but a 
 year or more later it resulted I was now about ten 
 in my being sent to the day grammar school of 
 the university. I do not desire to dwell on the 
 earlier troubles a shy lad met with in the barbarian 
 tribe of boys. Except for Harry I had been worse 
 off, for until he taught me through much tribulation 
 to box, I was sadly bullied and took more and more 
 to my father s books on primary physics and certain 
 of Marryat s novels I found in my attic mine of 
 
22 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 treasures, and to attempt to construct in wood the 
 model of a boat with paddle wheels to make voyages 
 to foreign lands on that delightful dam. 
 
 Meanwhile I grew large and strong and as I grew 
 became anything but a source of happiness to Eu- 
 phemia, who was distressed at my desire to accept 
 risks and to escape feminine control and because my 
 boy appetite appeared to her abnormal. She had 
 always had certain odd ideas concerning what and 
 how much I should eat, but as she went to mass 
 daily and very early, my growing appetite was fed 
 at least at breakfast by my old nurse with whatever 
 I wanted. I may thus have troubled somewhat my 
 cousin s meagre purse but I highly approved of the 
 incidental advantages of her religious fervor. 
 
 As my little world was thus enlarging the years ran 
 on until at fifteen I was a sturdy boy ready to go to 
 the University, for in those days we went young. 
 Then two events changed to my joy the course of 
 my life. 
 
 I had become more venturesome than my Cousin 
 Harry and one day, having great faith in attic con 
 tributions to boy resources, I persuaded my doubt 
 ing kinsman to see if we could not find in their loft 
 strong paper for a new form of kite I had invented. 
 We came on some great folio volumes of accounts 
 on good stiff paper, entirely fit for our use. Mrs. 
 Heath soon discovered that we were sending into 
 the skies the account books of her grandfather, the 
 Quartermaster General of Washington s army. She 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 23 
 
 was very angry and wrote to Uncle Dick that I "the 
 girl boy!" was leading Harry into mischief and 
 needed the rule of a man. He took no action until 
 the final adventure which came near to ending my 
 life. 
 
 I had found some boys at school I liked and when 
 Harry Heath, a favorite of Euphemia, begged that 
 I might spend Christmas with two of the lads whose 
 parents had invited us to visit their home near Atzion 
 Mill Ponds in New Jersey, my cousin, pleased to have 
 me off her hands in the holiday season, gladly as 
 sented. For once I was free and in a home joyously 
 hospitable. We skated, sleighed, snowballed, and at 
 last set to work to build on my design an ice boat 
 such as I had seen described. My earnestness over 
 came Harry s caution. We fastened sleds together, 
 rigged sails out of sheets we induced the maids to 
 lend us and set in place a rudder and the required 
 brakes. 
 
 One cold winter morning early all four of us got 
 aboard and with a shout set off before a wild north 
 east gale over a mile-long stretch of ice which boys 
 called "glip," that is, smooth (not to be found in the 
 dictionaries). The speed was all that could be de 
 sired. Harry, alarmed as we neared the farther 
 shore, put on the brakes, which refused to hold. 
 The rudder snapped and all I recall was a quick 
 sense of the peril of stumps in the shallows, a wild 
 crash and then no more. 
 
 I woke up the third day a bit bewildered to see 
 
24 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Uncle Dick and a doctor at my bedside. My con 
 cussion of the brain got well promptly while I lay 
 quiet thinking over a better brake. Harry broke 
 his collar bone and the others got off with bruises. 
 Ann Heath was furious and Euphemia now declared 
 that I would end badly and confessed future inability 
 to control me. 
 
 Two days after my return home, Uncle Dick and 
 Robert called, and I was sent for by Euphemia. 
 
 My uncle said, "That was a poor ice boat, John." 
 
 "It was the brakes, sir. I can make better ones." 
 
 "You might, but you will not. You are to go 
 to the works to-day week." 
 
 I said meekly, "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Now," he returned, "take care how you behave. 
 There will be no weak woman to coddle you." This 
 was hard on Euphemia, who drew herself up in her 
 chair but said not a word. 
 
 "Your cousin has written to me that she is un 
 able to manage you any longer." 
 
 "Yes, sir." I knew very well that with the aid 
 of the two blacks, I had of late done pretty much 
 as I pleased. 
 
 He said to Euphemia, "You ought to have com 
 plained long ago. You have brought him up badly." 
 
 "I might have complained," said Euphemia, "but 
 it would have been useless." 
 
 "Would it?" said Richard. "Now we must take 
 this unruly lad away. Good hard work at the mills 
 will keep him in order." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 25 
 
 "Yes, sir," I said, delighted; "I would like that." 
 
 "No one spoke to you. Hold your tongue!" 
 
 Euphemia flushed and said timidly, "Must he go? 
 I shall miss him." She looked at me with tearful 
 eyes and indeed had come to love her unmanageable 
 ward. 
 
 "What are you crying about?" said Eichard West. 
 "You ought to be pleased." 
 
 "I am not." 
 
 "Well, he must go and learn to behave himself. 
 Here is your cheque, Euphemia. You have misman 
 aged this boy and now we are to suffer. You will 
 not need as much as when John was with you." 
 
 Even then from what the servants said and what, 
 as an observant lad I had seen of poor Euphemia s 
 occasional straits, I knew enough and this meanness 
 shocked me. I hated my uncle then and never after 
 got near to liking him. 
 
 Robert said, "I am of Eichard s opinion. We 
 ought to have had an account of what was spent on 
 this boy." 
 
 Now and for the first time my cousin spoke out 
 the gathered resentment and contempt of years. She 
 rose to her feet and towering over the two small men, 
 said, "Between you there is not enough of honor, 
 manners or kindness to make the half of a man, not to 
 say gentleman. Take your money. Eed and angry, 
 she tore the cheque to pieces and threw it on the 
 floor. "I can beg, work, earn my bread, but I will 
 not allow you to insult me." 
 
26 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I never before had felt proud of this high-minded 
 cousin now I was. 
 
 The two dried-up twins looked at her, amazed and 
 for a moment dumb. 
 
 "But, Euphemia," said Richard West. 
 
 "Euphemia," gasped Robert. 
 
 "Show these persons the door, John, the door!" 
 
 They went like lambs, speechless. 
 
 Euphemia said to me next day, "For your sake, 
 my dear John, I have stood more than you will ever 
 know. Now they fear what our little world will say 
 of them. They have written me an apology and re 
 considered their decision. For your sake I accept 
 it, because if I do not you may oh, you would be 
 taken out of my life altogether and that I could not 
 bear." Then she kissed me, which was rare, and 
 sent me away, my cheeks wet with her tears. 
 
 That night, on my way up to bed, I went into 
 Euphemia s sitting-room as usual to bid her good 
 night. I paused in the doorway when I saw that 
 she was kneeling on the prie-Dieu in prayer. 
 
 Presently she rose and said, "I was praying for 
 you, John. Sit down by me. I want to say a word. 
 You are going among rough men. Take care of your 
 manners. For a lad, they are good. As concerns 
 your uncles, they are not so hard as they are un- 
 thoughtful of others. I wanted to talk to Richard 
 and discuss the propriety of waiting a year before 
 he took you away. I can not always manage you, 
 but I shall miss you. I saw that it was useless to 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 27 
 
 say that or anything to Kichard. He has never been 
 either generous or kind or disposed to listen. He is 
 a man who has neither religion nor manners. As 
 concerns Robert he is not a man he is a thing. 
 The only difference between them is that each is 
 worse than the other. " Never before had I heard 
 from her a word of complaint. "Now kiss me and 
 go to bed. I have lost my temper, but really, Rich 
 ard West is there, I am beginning again. Good 
 night. " 
 
 If Euphemia was troubled at this separation, I was 
 not. For a year or more, indeed ever since Uncle 
 Dick bestowed meagre alms of praise on my spillikins, 
 and said some day the works would be in the place for 
 me I had longed at times with the born inventor s 
 longing for what now was to be mine. 
 
ALL that week I thought and dreamed machin 
 ery and on a Monday, with rough working 
 clothes in my trunk, amid the tears of Euphemia and 
 my old nurse, I left home and was driven eight miles 
 to a house near the works, where I was welcomed by 
 the foreman of one of the shops and his wife. They 
 were kindly, childless folk, who were, I fancy, sur 
 prised that I was inclined to be pleased at the prospect 
 of hard labour. I arrived at noon and was eager to 
 go at once and visit the long range of shops which I 
 regarded as my future home. 
 
 Mark Penryn laughed what he called a good fat- 
 Cornish laugh. He used to say Americans did not 
 know how to laugh. 
 
 "Oh, you 11 be having enough and too much of 
 them. It s the office wants you just now. Come 
 along." This was after the meal at noon. 
 
 We walked over the snow, hearing the roar and 
 clang of machines. The singular rhythm of the 
 hammer blows where boiler plates were riveted rang 
 music to me and said bits of phrase which my imag 
 ination interpreted after a habit of mine, "Come, 
 come along, along. " My whole soul was answering 
 this call. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 29 
 
 You are not hearing me," said Penryn, a ruddy 
 man, humorously kind, "and me a man of nigh to 
 thirty winters discoursing wisdom to a boy. 
 
 ( It is the great fine noise. 
 
 "Oh, is it? A nice new plaything for a little gen 
 tleman. My wife has lived thirty summers. You ll 
 be liking her soft woman talk better than mine. 
 
 I said quickly, "I did not hear you. It is all so 
 new, and I came to work. Can t a boy be a gen 
 tleman and a workman? I m sorry I did not 
 listen. " 
 
 The big man stopped, faced me, set great hands 
 on my shoulders and said, "Keep to that. You ve 
 got a good job. Keep it. Dick West is like to be 
 harder on you than on us. He can t get inside a 
 man and I set it up as sure he 11 always be outside 
 of you. I ve had to break in some boy colts; never 
 had a good one. Do you want a bit of advice? " 
 
 I said "Yes." 
 
 "Well, then, listen, and never answer back. Be on 
 time. Say your prayers and be watchful of the cruel 
 ways of machines. Can you use your fists? There 
 are rough lads here." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I can." 
 
 "We 11 put on the gloves of a Sunday. I m an 
 old hand at it. Get the first blow and hit hard the 
 left hand first, a man never expects that." 
 
 With this exposition of the duties of my new life, 
 we came to the office. Here was a large, rather ill- 
 kept room with cobwebbed windows, clerks on high 
 
30 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 stools, and the lean, pallid man I knew as Uncle 
 Dick. 
 
 He said only, "Come with me, John Sherwood," 
 and entering his private office, bade me sit down. 
 " You look big enough to take care of yourself. Don t 
 bring me any complaints. Be punctual, winter at 
 seven, six in summer. You will be errand boy at 
 this office for two months and here I am not Uncle 
 Dick, but Mr. West." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I pay your board. Your wages will be three 
 dollars a week, too much Robert thinks. Take this 
 note to Jameson in the boiler shop. That s all." 
 
 I went out. Errand boy! My whole heart was 
 with the noisy machines. After some inquiry I 
 found my man and returning came near the great 
 steam engine. I stayed, catching my breath, fasci 
 nated before the huge gleaming fly-wheel, noiseless, 
 a certain majesty in its steadying control. I knew 
 enough to comprehend to some extent the flow of 
 power which belt and rack work were distributing. 
 
 Suddenly I heard my uncle beside me, "A half 
 hour on a five-minute errand. Go to the office." I 
 went. 
 
 On the miserable waste of waiting hours in the 
 office with nothing to do I need not dwell. "Take 
 a book," said Penryn, to whom I complained. 
 Thereafter I was in my soul s very land of happiness 
 and was not again reproved for idling. He had lent 
 me a volume on the construction of locomotives. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 31 
 
 This was late in 1861. The greedy demands of 
 war were already urgent and we were running day 
 and night. Cannon were cast and rifled. There 
 were mortars, shells, engine boilers, contracts clam 
 orous for fulfillment, a great, eager, never-satisfied 
 appetite of the demon war. As boys we had heard 
 the noise of extras called, of battles, death-lists, and 
 knew also of cricket clubs broken up when elder 
 brothers were claimed by the all-demanding conflict. 
 What I now saw served to bring it nearer. These 
 great busy works too were fighting for a nation s 
 unity. 
 
 "Once," said Penryn, "we went on quietly mak 
 ing money. Now, it is too much for your uncles. 
 It is all a drive and hurry does kill old men. It is 
 killing those old uncles. " 
 
 It was not killing me. At last I was set to work 
 in the shops to learn filing, and then as machine 
 boy-aid. I was thus moved as time ran on from one 
 to another piece of mechanism and at last to the 
 engine room. 
 
 Of my uncles I saw almost nothing. Eobert was 
 rarely seen outside of the counting house. Richard 
 West walked about the works, worried by new ma 
 chines, anxious and silent. Now and again he sent 
 for me and told me of some change in my work. I 
 never have seen a man who had as limited a range 
 of interests or who transacted the business of life 
 with so small an expenditure of words. 
 
 When a foreman complained to Penryn that Rich- 
 
32 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 ard West was a hard master, the Cornish man said, 
 "He is a slave, not a master/ and yet he chose his 
 subordinates well, as I saw. I got from him neither 
 praise nor blame. Only once in all these years did 
 he ask me a personal question. 
 
 "You are to go to-morrow to the boiler work. I 
 Bee you have a black eye." 
 
 "Yes, Uncle." 
 
 "Mr. West lad?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, a fight." 
 
 "Got licked?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Well, that will do." 
 
 This seemed to be the limit of his interest, except 
 that Euphemia and I were year after year invited, 
 in my case ordered, to dine with my uncles on the 
 4th of July. Euphemia always declined to accept, 
 saying simply that she was unable to dine with them. 
 
 It was clearly in her interest to have cultivated 
 closer relations, but despite the poverty which the 
 twins decreed for her, Euphemia was not of the 
 nature which surrenders. She starved herself after 
 I left to give money to the poor and her church, 
 and cherished an abiding sense of insult of which 
 she spoke to me once only when both uncles were 
 dead. I, of course, went to dine as requested. 
 
 There was a look of what I may describe as shabby 
 wealth about the house and all I saw; the old silver, 
 uncleaned, stood on the sideboard, and good por 
 traits of Wests and Sherwoods in worn frames hung 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 33 
 
 on the walls. The dust everywhere would have made 
 Euphemia weep. 
 
 The dinner was excessive and the cooking good, 
 but the service by old colored men in much worn 
 clothes was careless and inattentive. Young as I 
 was, the amazing silence of these two old men and 
 their discourteous neglect of the guest made me 
 angry. 
 
 The mistakes and disasters of the war they were 
 feeding were scarcely mentioned. When I was older 
 I used to bring in some questions of general concern. 
 I got brief answers and the talk died, in a hopelessly 
 neutral social atmosphere. I used to wonder if these 
 old men loved one another. Penryn said, "No, they 
 are attached to one another, that s all, far as I can 
 see." 
 
 At last, at the close of the meal, the Madeira was 
 put on table and I was given a glass. My uncle 
 Dick rose and said, "The memory of Washington." 
 After dinner both men fell asleep in their arm 
 chairs and I slipped out, glad to get away. 
 
 Once a month, on Saturday afternoon, I walked 
 eight miles to town and spent Sunday with my 
 cousin, or the Heaths, and in searches among the 
 various treasures I still found in my attic room. 
 Euphemia was changing. She was more precise, 
 more inconsequent and not once in these years 
 spoke of my uncles. Now, however, she clung to me 
 as never before, liking my visits and always greeting 
 me with a kiss, which from childhood I disliked 
 
 3 
 
34 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 and which as I grew older curiously emoarrassed 
 me. 
 
 I took away from my treasure-attic more advanced 
 books on artillery and at last my father s sword and 
 epaulettes. Save for my good, shrewd Cornish 
 friends and rare visits to me from Harry Heath, 
 my life was an existence as apart from general human 
 sympathetic interest as had been my childhood. 
 
 But I was now eighteen and had found what was 
 for years my most valued association. If I say that 
 I had a sort of friendly relation to the numberless 
 mechanisms among which I moved, it may seem an 
 excessive statement. The vivid creative imagination 
 of child life awoke anew in endless thought of ma 
 chines I was ever inventing or bettering. I dreamed 
 of them, drew them, was encouraged by Penryn or 
 laughed at as a dreamer, for this is of the poetry 
 of invention. I was sorry when one of our machines 
 went wrong. A false sound struck me. I knew the 
 language of every one of these complex mechanisms, 
 their quick speech, their pauses, or when they stut 
 tered. At any time amid all this whirr and buzz 
 and clatter, I would stop arrested by a wrong note. 
 This is a sure quality of the inventor. At nine 
 teen, I drew and then modelled my well-known de 
 vice to be attached to cannon in order to register 
 automatically the number of times they are fired. 
 Penryn showed it to Uncle Dick, who was unready 
 to accept novelties, but the Government Inspector at 
 once took it up and it was used on all our cannon. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 35 
 
 At twenty I was assistant foreman of the boiler 
 shop and knew the works as no other did. On my 
 birthday, August 11, which has often been the date 
 of memorable incidents, two things happened. The 
 men refused to work inside of a boiler because of the 
 deadly heat. I said at once, "I order no man to do 
 what in his place I would be afraid to do." I 
 stripped to the waist, took a hammer and went in. 
 In two hours I was pulled out insensible from heat 
 stroke. When, three days later, I awakened with 
 no more than a headache, I learned that Uncle 
 Eobert West had died suddenly while I was in the 
 boiler. 
 
 Uncle Dick and Euphemia came to see me before 
 I was fit to work. He said little except that I was 
 to call on Sunday at ten A. M., but of his brother s 
 death, not a word, nor of my courage, of which 
 Penryn spoke. After this event Uncle Dick became 
 more and more a silent man, although he always ap 
 peared to keep himself aware of what I was doing 
 and how my work was done. 
 
 What this uncle really was I never knew. The 
 little I did know came to me through Mark Penryn, 
 who lost no chance of setting me before my uncle 
 in a favorable point of view. Mark was right in his 
 judgment of the man as being himself uninteresting, 
 and uninterested except in the accumulation of money 
 which added nothing to the pleasure of life. If he 
 had any other less distinct characteristic it was fam 
 ily pride in our old colonial line, of which once, and 
 
36 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 only once, he spoke to me at one of those sombre din 
 ners I so greatly disliked. 
 
 Euphemia would not go to Robert s funeral serv 
 ices at St. Peter s. She said, l i How can I ? For two 
 reasons, John, I cannot." 
 
 I did not attempt to reply and then learned from 
 her that Robert had left all of his property to Rich 
 ard. When I kept the engagement made for me, 
 I learned that I was to have an office room and be 
 come assistant to the general manager. It was not 
 quite to my liking, but I was now to receive seven 
 hundred dollars a year and to have more leisure 
 to hatch out the inventions I began to patent and 
 which are, many of them, still in use, especially the 
 air cushion recoil brake, and the determination of 
 the relation of rifling curves to the calibre of ord 
 nance. 
 
 Pleasure in the details of a man s work is a valuable 
 asset. I loved it all and still no joy was greater 
 than at night when inspecting the shops, to stand 
 still and hear the thunderous orchestra or to watch 
 the quiet motion of that mighty fly-wheel which had 
 so fascinated me on my first day at the mills. 
 
 I could have found pleasure in the company of 
 the highly-educated army officers who came as in 
 spectors of our work and whom I might have found 
 interesting. I discussed with them cannon-rifling 
 and the like and then retired into that silence and 
 self-absorption which is what the inventor craves 
 and the poet must have in his times of product. It 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 37 
 
 was not altogether good for me. Harry Heath used 
 to say so. I know it now, for the years are wise 
 preachers. I was losing all human interests in the 
 ardor of an entrancing success. Only a woman, the 
 woman, could have turned me aside. 
 
 For a while I missed the manual labor which had 
 put and kept me in high condition and to keep up 
 my useful habits of exercise I liked better than any 
 sport to go daily to an anvil, take a sledge hammer 
 and get a half hour of violent exercise. In my 
 craving for leisure to invent new mechanical devices 
 which would some time be of use in perfecting our 
 product, I by degrees gave up even this exercise and 
 made the grave error of leaving my own very effi 
 ciently trained muscular machinery to almost entire 
 disuse. Neither for man. nor engine is that whole 
 some. 
 
 Meanwhile, as a manager of men, I knew myself 
 to be a success. I was familiar with their ways and, 
 having been of them, settled all our troubles with 
 ease. Their illnesses and home difficulties never 
 concerned me. I was becoming merely a perfectly 
 organized mechanism. My friend, Penryn, saw my 
 indifference with obvious regret and would tell me 
 of men hurt or sick. I had the ready answer of 
 money. Had I gone to see them, I should not have 
 known what to say. 
 
 I was twenty when the war ended and in the new 
 rivalry of many mills with men more active than Eich- 
 ard West, business fell off. We went back to mak- 
 
38 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 ing rails, but there were new methods with costly 
 changes needed and Richard West was by primary 
 organization a thrifty saver of money. To spend 
 was hard. Though reluctant, he did spend out of 
 the great gains of the war, but became by degrees 
 to our surprise irritable and more and more talka 
 tive a strange thing much spoken of among the 
 men. 
 
 The new machinery was for me simply delightful 
 and as Richard West took less and less interest in 
 the works, I became in these years more important, 
 desiring no better life than that of the mills, with 
 books of many kinds and my private workshop be 
 hind Penryn s house. Harry Heath lectured me in 
 vain. Holidays! My ever-changing work was holi 
 day. 
 
 One day he said, "John, how much do you give 
 Euphemia ? 
 
 I felt myself flush. I had now two thousand dol 
 lars a year and was twenty-five when this question 
 disturbed me. I have given some, but not enough, 
 I said, as I thanked him, and at once doubled my 
 uncle s scant allowance. 
 
 I did not attempt to excuse myself to Euphemia 
 or to myself for having failed in so obvious a duty. 
 In fact, I was absorbed in my work, as only the in 
 ventor can be, self -full rather than selfish. The sim 
 ple way in which Euphemia took my gift and the evi 
 dent pleasure it gave was agreeable to me, but as an 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 39 
 
 example did me no good. I cared nothing for money 
 except to pay for books and models. 
 
 Thus the years ran on. One day I was now 
 twenty-nine my Uncle Dick did not come to the 
 mills. I had gone to Pittsburg about a large con 
 tract. Euphemia was summoned in haste, but found 
 him dead. She declined to put on mourning, but 
 advised me to do so. Her epitaph was simple and 
 bitter. "He lived a heathen, John, and he died a 
 heathen. I hope he will not be made to suffer more 
 than he deserves. About Robert I prefer not to ex 
 press myself. " I said it was a highly Christian ver 
 dict. She said it was and was seriously of that be 
 lief. 
 
I NEVER was attracted by Kichard West and did 
 not love him. No one did. I had wondered 
 at times what he would do with his property and 
 what Eobert West left him. Now I knew. The mill 
 was mine and a large property well invested. Harry 
 got fifty thousand dollars. No one else was remem 
 bered. I was entirely competent to run the mills and 
 asked no better lot and there was much need of 
 changes which I had not been able to effect while my 
 uncle lived. I began by making Mark Penryn man 
 ager and between us in a few months we put every 
 department in the highest state of efficiency. 
 
 When I told him what was to be his salary, he 
 began to express his gratitude so warmly that I fled 
 with the feeling of dislike to being thanked which 
 I had always had and have still to this day. I never 
 could satisfy myself as to what is the origin of that 
 which is with me a very real feeling. 
 
 I knew that I must face it once more now that, 
 the estate being fully settled, I meant to provide 
 fully for Euphemia. I found her in the little parlor 
 hemming the handkerchiefs with which she delighted 
 to provide me. I was in haste to get my business 
 done. 
 
 40 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 41 
 
 I said, Cousin, I have put in trust for you enough 
 to give you an income of fully two thousand dollars 
 a year." 
 
 She made what Heath called one of those Eu- 
 phemial remarks which caused people to say she was 
 affected. "John," she said, "that is interesting, but 
 what shall I do with so much money ? 
 
 "My dear Cousin, I know very well where most of 
 it will go. But for my sake, do get yourself some 
 decent gowns. You dress abominably. Get some 
 finery. You have a figure worth velvets and a little 
 attention. 
 
 "Oh, do you think so?" She was as simply 
 pleased as a child. It was one of her most attractive 
 characteristics. 
 
 "And your feet, Euphemia; you know you are 
 proud of them." 
 
 "Oh, John." 
 
 I laughed. "And here," I said, "are the title 
 deeds of this home." 
 
 "Oh, John, and I have not thanked you. I do. 
 I do." 
 
 "Yes, yes," I returned hastily. "I have an en 
 gagement," and so fled in mild fear of the kiss I dis 
 liked. 
 
 As I had been to my machines, so now I became 
 to this great business, a happy slave, caring little 
 for money, but vastly enjoying the game of defeat 
 ing rivals by my new inventions and daring expendi 
 ture. 
 
42 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I fully realized that the complete social isolation 
 I liked was clearly impossible for a man in my po 
 sition. At last I took ample apartments in the city 
 and joined the older club with as little change of 
 life as it was in my power to avoid. Some social 
 engagements I could not escape. 
 
 I left my bachelor apartments at eight, drove out 
 to the works, lunched with the Penryns, spent the 
 day, returned to dress and dine at the club and 
 with now and then a dinner party, occasional visits, 
 or a meal with Euphemia and a visit with her to a 
 theatre, I led, save for my cousin and Harry Heath, 
 long since a busy physician, an unfriended life. I 
 kept the old family pew, but went to church only 
 on the Sunday after the anniversary of my father s 
 death. I gave away money to charities, though never 
 largely, and chiefly because Euphemia suggested it 
 as desirable and because my position and family tra 
 ditions seemed to make it a respectable necessity. I 
 was said to be in my business hard and without in 
 terest in the lives of my growing number of workmen. 
 This attitude of mind towards the men I employed 
 is one apt to be reached soon or late by the great 
 employers of labor. I spared neither them nor my 
 self. To me they were like machines. They were to 
 be generously paid, and then set aside if as machines 
 they did not come up to my standard of efficiency. 
 It troubled the Penryns, who could not understand 
 how being as I was lavishly kind to them and to 
 Euphemia I could be so indifferent to others. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 43 
 
 If, at times, I had doubts as to the entire wisdom 
 of my life and vague thinkings about what I might 
 do on that some day or other with which the never 
 quite satisfied successful American toys at times, I 
 never set myself seriously to the task of planning 
 any other life. I was to have a rude awakening. 
 
 Late in the fall of my thirty-fourth year, I began 
 to feel tired at the close of the day. It is strictly 
 true that I had never felt fatigue of mind or body 
 which was not lost in sleep. Now I woke up unre- 
 freshed. I had the abrupt alarm of the exception 
 ally strong in the presence of the threat of incapac 
 ity. The slight cough I had long ignored became 
 harassing. At times I was chilly. Except once or 
 twice as a child, I had never in my life required a 
 physician, but now my day of need had come. 
 
 I have heard other men speak of their dislike to 
 being stripped and intimately investigated by a doc 
 tor. It is a manifestation of modesty you may please 
 to think morbid. There appeared to me to be, how 
 ever, something inexplicably disrespectful in extorting 
 confession from organs which are such intensely per 
 sonal possessions. When, later, I asked my cousin 
 doctor if men or women were naturally the more 
 modest animal, he said usually men, but that neither 
 man nor any other animal had by nature what we 
 know as personal modesty. One day we will become 
 transparent to that terrible physical confessor, the 
 doctor. Imagine the horror of having your bones 
 indecently exposed, possibly photographed. These 
 
44 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 were later reflections. I had a prophetic imagina 
 tion. 
 
 I hated to ask medical advice, but at last I re 
 quested Harry Heath to look me over and went 
 through an impertinently close examination concern 
 ing my life and habits. In the pride of my vigor dis 
 ease had always seemed to me an insulting reflection 
 on a man s capacity to take care of himself and now, 
 after being on the medical rack, I was told frankly, 
 as many times before, that I lived an unwholesome 
 life, and with kindly hesitation, for Heath loved me 
 well, a serious bronchitis and that I had possibly, 
 of this he was not at all sure, a small deposit of 
 tubercle at the apex of my right lung. Then I was 
 advised to do this and that and to go to the Riviera or 
 Florida or perhaps Minnesota, with other disgusting 
 orders about cod liver oil and the disuse of tobacco. 
 
 When he had gone I sat down to consider what his 
 gravity more than his words seemed to predict as 
 pretty surely the slow torment of useless years and 
 a final death warrant. The mere anticipation of be 
 coming an idle man filled me with horror. I have 
 heard men say they were worked to death, now I 
 was to be idled to death. Heath says that the indi 
 viduality of the man is always a part of the symptom 
 atology of sickness and is a partner in that grim firm, 
 Disease and Company. I was to suffer for my past 
 habits, because I was myself. 
 
 I rose and walked about with fierce will not to 
 be beaten and a sudden realization of the value of life. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 45 
 
 I was to escape from the conditions of an artificial 
 existence and as the doctor advised live an out-door 
 life, but he added not too remote from civilized ways. 
 Why not, I thought, rather return as far as might 
 be to such a life as my infinitely remote ancestors led 
 and away from society and its limitations. In the 
 club library that memorable night I read by a happy 
 chance a little essay called "Camp Cure." My two 
 doctors were at one with me, or as near in opinion 
 as one can hope doctors to be. I closed the small 
 book and went home with a mind clear as to what I 
 should do and would do. Harry was in doubt about 
 my novel plan, but I persisted. The scheme was well 
 enough, he said, if I were careful, but I would be 
 unbearably bored and come in at last to some one or 
 other of his plans for more comfortable invalid re 
 sorts. I was resolute, Harry said obstinate. 
 
 Heath s preference for me of some "invalid re 
 sorts " was the final drop in the bitter bucket of ad 
 vice a repair shop for a worn-out human machine. 
 I think doctors should be more carefully discreet in 
 their language "invalid resorts" indeed. I im 
 agine that Heath knew enough of the sick and of me 
 to humor what he saw I would undertake with hope 
 rather than to insist on that which he knew I would 
 simply endure if companioned by despair. He did 
 finally all he could to help me with detailed lists of 
 what I might require. 
 
 All this was late in the autumn. I set about at 
 once to see some of my rivals in business and by the 
 
46 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 end of March, although far worse in health, I had 
 succeeded in forming a company which took over my 
 mills with royalties on my inventions, and upon terms 
 which made me a rich and independent man. 
 
 On the sixth of April I said good-bye to Heath and 
 had to stand a mournful interview with Euphemia, 
 who had evidently heard from Heath what her af 
 fection emphasized as a death warrant. 
 
 I had before me a yet more painful good-bye. At 
 midday, coughing and out of breath, I climbed the 
 hill to Penryn s house, where for years I had lunched. 
 Mrs. Penryn made me welcome as usual and before 
 we sat down Mark Penryn came in. We talked of 
 the works and, of course, of their sale, which was 
 matter for much comment among the hands. When 
 the meal was over I asked Penryn to come with me 
 to the work shop and library I had built long ago 
 at the farther end of the garden. 
 
 "No," I said, when we sat down and he offered 
 his tobacco pouch. "I am forbidden to smoke, 
 Mark." 
 
 "Is that so, sir and you are going away, we hear. 
 My wife says that seems just to be the end of things. 
 Why, you were a lad of fifteen when I first gave you 
 some advice. That s nigh onto twenty years and 
 now, sir, you re going to leave us. 
 
 "Yes, I am a sick man and how it will end I do 
 not know, but I mean to make a fight for life/ 
 
 "Mr. Sherwood, you will have the prayers of two 
 old people and you will be missed by many. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 47 
 
 "Hardly, Mark." 
 
 "Yes, the men dread this change, sir. You are 
 always just and a judge of when work is done well 
 or slighted." 
 
 That did, as I knew, charitably express my lim 
 itations of interest in their lives, but of his own anx 
 iety as to his future he said not a word. It was like 
 the man. For a moment he sat still, regarding me 
 with his kindly eyes, more moved than his man ways 
 would let him show. I too remained speechless for 
 a minute, thinking of how little I had done to de 
 serve the manifest grief at parting which my old 
 friendly workman was, with small success, trying 
 to suppress. 
 
 "Mark," I said, "you are still to be the manager 
 here as long as you please to stay. 
 
 "It will not be long, sir. It s one thing to work 
 with you, but " 
 
 "Oh, there will be no new difficulties." 
 
 "Perhaps not." 
 
 "These mills owe much to you and I owe you 
 much, Mark. I have put in your name fifteen thou 
 sand dollars of the stock. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Sherwood, I could not ever have ex 
 pected " 
 
 "Don t thank me, Mark," I said. In my weak 
 state I was beginning to find these partings too great 
 a trial. "You are to have this workshop. There are 
 two or three inventions worth patenting. They are 
 yours. That sidegear wheel is one." I rose, say- 
 
48 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 ing, "I have some Vvcrk to do here, papers to burn 
 and other matters. " 7 
 
 When alone I sat down and looked about me. It 
 was the most bitter hour of a life quite without sor 
 row or disaster. Here were many models of machines 
 in use or half perfected or never to be bettered, the 
 wild, materialized dreams of an inventor. The walls 
 were covered with mechanical drawings, some as old 
 as my early days at the mill ; others newly made plans 
 yet to be worked out. 
 
 I got up and walked about. And so this was the 
 end for me of ideas which were to have changed the 
 iron industry of a continent. What a man may say 
 in the face of defeat like mine is hardly to be guessed. 
 What I did say was simply, "Damn!" as I walked 
 out the back door, of no mind to encounter again 
 the two good people whose troubled affection had so 
 surprised me. I heard, as I moved away, the clatter 
 and roar of busy machines and the strong voice of 
 the great trip hammers. They came and went and 
 were lost. No music had been as pleasant to me as 
 had been this grim orchestra. 
 
 I had read or heard of men wrecked in life or 
 heartbroken by some failure to keep the love of 
 woman. I knew nothing personally of such ruined 
 hopes. I laughed bitterly as I went down the hill. 
 These seemed small griefs compared to the anguish of 
 mental disappointment a cruel fate had dealt out to me. 
 I had closed one chapter in the book of life. What 
 would, what could the next hold on its unread pages ? 
 
VI 
 
 I OWNED as my small maternal heritage, a thou 
 sand acres on the north coast of Maine, long cared 
 for by my uncles, and later by me. It yielded noth 
 ing but taxes. Hither I sent in advance my capable 
 black servant, Dodo, with full orders and discretion 
 as to what I had thoughtfully considered needful. 
 With increase of doubt on the part of my doctor, I 
 left home to find Dodo at Belport, Maine, with a 
 sailboat ready. He had been two years in the navy 
 and was as pleased as a child to be in command of a 
 boat. 
 
 The day was warm, the breeze was gentle, the sky 
 without a cloud. I lay in the catboat, weary in body 
 and feeling the slight depression of spirits which I 
 have always felt in the spring and fall for a brief 
 season. Now and of late it had been present in great 
 intensity. It was not fear which caused it nor yet 
 the dread of being incapacitated. I had read that 
 the tubercular are said not to feel the melancholy 
 which accompanies some other maladies. It seemed 
 to me therefore a good symptom. 
 
 I smiled to think what a little thing will flatter 
 hope and as I lay at rest in the boat determined not 
 to indulge my moodiness. At home, events hustle 
 4 49 
 
50 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 one s moods, imminent duties keep a man from think 
 ing morbidly, but here would be perilous leisure for 
 harmful self-study. I made up my mind that the 
 cave ancestor I was to imitate would need to have 
 some distinct physical work and a more methodical 
 existence than I had first thought of as desirable. 
 
 As I let my mind wander, I wondered lazily if 
 there be a par of human happiness with normal range 
 above and below which. excess in either direction must 
 be regarded as abnormal. This would define insanity 
 as a matter of degree. Perhaps continuance of excess 
 might also have to be taken into consideration. To 
 laugh, be hilarious, or violently angry for a month 
 would be serious. Who was it said that cheerfulness 
 is the temperate zone of life ? I smiled to think how 
 even the best-governed men at times are drifted away 
 on the derelict slave-ship of a mood to the tropics 
 or the arctic zone. It is, I concluded, the duration of 
 our moods which we must watch with care, and 
 as I found later there are rough physical resorts 
 which rout a mischievous mood when reason fails to 
 be of service. 
 
 I began to watch Dodo s handling of the boat and 
 to ask quick questions about it, for in all my life 
 I had never been in a sailboat. Here was a new 
 and interesting machine. When Dodo did not know 
 why it was called a catboat, I wrote a word of query 
 and this was the first use of the notebook which has 
 received since then so many confidences, so many 
 questions earth will never answer. When I fell into 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 51 
 
 silence, Dodo would have me take the tiller and 
 pleased at being my master was glad in his obvious 
 way to see me interested. In fact, this white-winged, 
 sensitive thing won my heart on first acquaintance 
 and was soon or late to treat me to wiles and wooings 
 and temptations such as lured Ulysses. I soon came 
 to understand why a boat is she. 
 
 At last Dodo exclaimed, " There s the tents!" A 
 deep, nearly land-locked bay, a sound, the fishermen 
 call it, lay before me. Unbroken forests, chiefly of 
 tall pines and red oaks, came down to the shore. A 
 mile or more away a mountain range crowned the 
 horizon. There was no sign of human habitation ex 
 cept three white tents set on a granite promontory 
 some fifty feet high within the loop of the bay. 
 
 We tacked to avoid a little island and a reef of 
 rocks and came to anchor inside of it where lay a 
 canoe on the shore. I had a sudden realization of 
 ownership and the delight of a child as I saw beside 
 my cliff home a bountiful brook which came forth of 
 the dark woodland in a single leap of some twenty 
 feet and fell crushed to snowy whiteness on the beach. 
 We walked up the rocks and before me were the three 
 tents set on the verge of the forest with no tree in 
 front of them except a single aged red oak now re 
 minding me in its young foliage that I had come into 
 a land just answering to the call of spring. 
 
 In the mid space was my day room. Aided by 
 carpenters from Belport, Dodo had laid floors and 
 dug around the sides of the tents little ditches for 
 
62 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 drainage. The central tent was large and square. 
 There were camp chairs, a lounge, book shelves, tables 
 roughly built and racks for the guns and rods I was 
 for the first time in life to learn to use. The night 
 tent was smaller and simply furnished. That to left 
 was for meals. Out of it at the back, a covered can 
 vas way led to a small log-built kitchen and a tent 
 for Dodo. 
 
 A word of my man Friday is here in place. He 
 was a middle-aged Maryland ex-slave who had been 
 to sea in the navy, served as a young teamster in the 
 war and by good fortune come to be something for 
 me between servant and friend. Perfect cook, ready 
 handed and dog-like in his affection, I could have had 
 no companion, for he was that at need, better suited 
 to my wants. 
 
 When once I asked him where he got his odd sur 
 name, he replied with a grin, "My father, he opened 
 the Bible and took for luck the first name he saw. 
 Nobody else got a name like that." He had a sense 
 of ownership of the unusual which was clearly a 
 source of pride. I verified his authority. What he 
 lacked was singular. He could neither read nor 
 write and declined my early efforts to have him 
 taught. I came to the belief that he regarded his 
 ignorance as a distinction. 
 
 He wound with care a noisy Yankee clock which 
 clucking endlessly seemed to me to be calling the min 
 utes like an old hen. What it meant for him I never 
 knew for he could not tell what o clock it was except 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 53 
 
 by the sun shadow in the doorway of the kitchen. If 
 in gray weather this failed him, he would ask me near 
 the meal hours to look at my watch to see if his clock 
 was right, all of which I gladly humored. 
 
 His memory was to me a constant wonder, for he 
 knew no arithmetic and yet kept in his head any and 
 all details of what he bought and paid, being a sharp 
 bargainer. 
 
 There was in the man, however, as in all of us, 
 something of the primitive barbarian. When later I 
 was on the water or otherwise absent and his work 
 done, he whistled to Mike, the bull terrier named for 
 the imagined dog of my youth, and disappeared into 
 the wood, finding his way with the sure instinct of an 
 animal. What he did, he and the dog, I never knew, 
 and this side of Dodo was and remained mysterious. 
 He at least had an enviable absence of moods and 
 was at all hours a temperately joyous creature with 
 pride in his capacity as a cook and liking a word 
 of praise. He was reserved and somewhat suspicious 
 of strangers, expressing what he called his notions 
 to me with confiding frankness but with a quite 
 feminine incapacity to give reasons for opinions which 
 were hardly to be called judgments but were usually 
 correct. 
 
 I soon learned in camp what I could not have 
 learned in a city, that he was a creature in whom the 
 failing instincts of the primitive man were still pre 
 served and the senses amazingly acute. He never 
 would, perhaps never could, tell me why he was so 
 
54 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 surely sensitive to coming changes in the weather. 
 Physically he was a tall, strong man of athletic build, 
 wearing a constant smile which showed his large 
 white teeth. He ate like an animal, when he was 
 hungry, observing no regularity as to the time of his 
 meals. 
 
 The life I proposed was one which in those days 
 seemed so unpromising a resort that, as I have said, 
 I had not been without medical and other prophecies 
 of disaster. Nevertheless, I still held to my confi 
 dence in my plan of battle with disease. After the 
 first two weeks of increasing cough and high evening 
 temperature, a quite abrupt change for the better 
 gave me the tonic of hope and I wisely put away my 
 thermometer. 
 
 My life had been made up from my youth of 
 laborious days. Incessant work and the attendant 
 responsibilities had become, as is apt to be the case, 
 necessary to the happiness of an existence in which 
 constant success had rewarded labor so that at times 
 I was bored by the enforced idleness of the Sunday 
 quiet. I had been always able to control events and 
 caring far less for money than for the game of con 
 tested supremacy in business, I had found little to 
 disturb my belief in the permanence of things. 
 
 The invasion of what seemed likely to be a mortal 
 malady shocked me into the conviction that something 
 in my plan of life must have been wrong. My cousin, 
 the doctor, left me, as concerned this question, not the 
 least chance for self-excuse. Such an illness seemed 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 55 
 
 to me to be a mockery of the intelligence with which 
 a man should be able to guard his health and now I 
 was to suffer for the unwisdom of years. 
 
 I confess to some dismay as I looked forward dur 
 ing my early life in camp to being materially unpro 
 ductive and to devoting the machinery of a trained 
 mind to filling the long days of threatened emptiness 
 which lay before me. Here were no new problems to 
 interest me. The camp was disappointingly complete. 
 There was nothing for my mechanical talent to per 
 fect. I had only to arrange for my house-keeping 
 supplies and then fall upon some routine of whole 
 some life. At first it seemed to me rather singular 
 that I, who had rejoiced in battle with rivals and in 
 the difficulties of old machines or new unworkable 
 processes should have been so troubled at the prospect 
 before me. I think this was because for two weeks 
 I was daily losing ground and was losing interest as 
 I lost health. Then, as I have said, the wholesome 
 life began to be felt in many ways. 
 
 I had looked to my present plan as merely a dis 
 agreeable necessity. That it was to be for me the 
 revolutionary source of new pleasures and was to en 
 large my horizons more and more I learned later 
 and only by degrees. Least of all did I anticipate 
 that such an entire change in bodily habits could 
 affect a man s character and his relation to his fel 
 lows. I was in fact in the hands and under the dis 
 cipline of a schoolmaster with power to evolve what 
 my previous life had masked or discouraged. 
 
56 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 The irritability new to me, and caused by disease 
 and its effects on my competencies, began to disap 
 pear with my recovery of health and vigor. I ob 
 served with curious pleasure, the fact that I was 
 beginning to have brief moments of simple enjoyment 
 in things to which before I had been carelessly in 
 different. The imaginative capacities of childhood, 
 long diverted into the service of inventing mechanical 
 devices, were again awakening for simpler forms of 
 use and creating new joys. 
 
 The sense of being born again into health is as 
 if the world thus won again were also renewed. 
 I have not heard anyone who had become well after 
 nearly fatal illness mention the unexpected happiness 
 of convalescence. I myself find it hard to speak 
 without exaggeration of the distinct pleasure given 
 by loss of pain and all forms of distress, by daily in 
 crease of strength and desire to use it, by freshened 
 sensory appreciations and a contented languor of 
 mind indisposing to serious mental pursuits. All 
 nature daily wore for me novel aspects as if not only 
 I myself but the world grown sick were freshly con 
 valescent. 
 
 The habitual reversion to protective observation of 
 nature such as my cave ancestors must have found 
 needful did at times surprise me. My man Dodo had 
 it always. Thus I soon began to discover interest in 
 the changes of the weather, a matter which in the 
 city concerned me of late only as exacting care in 
 regard to clothing. Nature became to me a comrade 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 57 
 
 worthy of increase of intimacy, repaying attention 
 with gifts small or large. 
 
 As the days ran on and my inner self ceased to 
 exact care of symptoms and to intrude consciousness 
 of the abnormal, I began to take satisfaction in filling 
 a notebook with sketches in words. Except in me 
 chanical drawing, I have no skill with the pencil, but 
 I learned so to set scenery in words as to answer in 
 place of photographs, which I do not like. 
 
VII 
 
 A WEEK later, my domestic affairs having been 
 ordered to my temporary satisfaction, there 
 came one afternoon in a sailboat from Belport my 
 agent, Jones, whom until then I had never seen. I 
 had written of my new plan of life and wanted to 
 ask him certain questions, for which I learned the 
 need at Belport. Now, however, I met him with dis 
 satisfaction because of this intrusion of mere business 
 on my new and solitary life. 
 
 As we sat down in front of my tent, he declined 
 whiskey and a pipe to which my gain in health had 
 tempted me to return. He was silently regarding my 
 outfit. Then he guessed I would n t bide long ; it was 
 too lonesome. I thought otherwise and heard vague 
 talk about taxes which concerned me in no wise. 
 There were three squatters on my land and these 
 voluntary tenants, he said, were using my forests 
 pretty freely. There was good landing and it would 
 pay right well to cut the big pines. 
 
 VCut my pines?" I said. "Not a tree, Mr. Jones, 
 not a stick. They are my friends and the company 
 you would like to organize may go to a place where 
 fuel is not needed. 
 
 58 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 59 
 
 Evidently he thought me somewhat eccentric and 
 I began to re-open the only subject in which we had 
 a common interest, my tenants. He became at once 
 voluble and talked of the rights of property. One 
 man had been there on the main road to Belport 
 many years; that was Peter Christian. I d got to 
 deal with him and he ought to pay higher rent. 
 
 I asked, "Does he raise chickens?" 
 
 This he considered, as I thought, more reasonable 
 and as having applicative value. "Well, I guessed 
 you d find out he could pay more rent. He don t 
 pay none, or not regular." 
 
 I said I would take my rental in kind, on which 
 he was of opinion that there would be an immediate 
 rise in the market value of chickens. 
 
 Then he looked about him as if in thought and 
 illuminated his lean, sharp face with a smile in honor 
 of a victorious capture of a fresh idea. 
 
 "Well?" I queried. 
 
 "It ain t only this waste of lumber, but to see 
 them pines and right to hand that there idle water 
 fall that s never done any work since the Lord set 
 it a-going." This incursion of an alien bit of imag 
 ination into a business view of nature is not very 
 rare in the rural New England mind, sentimental 
 enough, but shy of emotional expression. It was at 
 that time odd to me. 
 
 My reply was quick and almost angry. "You may 
 have heard of the lilies of the field." 
 
 He grinned with unexpected comprehension as I 
 
60 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 added, "That brook is going to be idle and loaf all 
 my life and do no work and run no mill wheel." 
 
 "Guess He as set it going meant it to be of use. 
 Now the lilies was n t made to be of any use except 
 to look pretty." He nodded his head to emphasize 
 his consciousness of having settled that question and 
 me. 
 
 "Well, yes," I laughed, vastly enjoying the talk; 
 "yes, but if you think the only use of the lilies was 
 to look pretty, you had better go home and read 
 your Bible. They waited a long time to be consid 
 ered. You might ask Mrs. Jones." 
 
 "I will. I will. I don t see your p int." 
 
 "I think you will see it. This brook is for me a 
 big water lily, Mr. Jones. It shall toil not nor spin 
 anybody s wheel. Let it alone. Perhaps God set it 
 here to be the friend of a tired, sick man. Let my 
 babbling friend alone." 
 
 He grinned maliciously. "It s been an awful 
 waste waiting for you these years." 
 
 "That may be, but think of those lilies. They 
 waited long." 
 
 "I don t see it." 
 
 "Perhaps you never may. What of my other ten 
 ants?" 
 
 "There s that Hapworth. He s a sort of no ac 
 count wastrel. He doesn t work and he lives alone 
 and buys what he wants. He does pay rent, but what 
 with the road tax and one thing and another it is 
 just swallowed up." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 61 
 
 "Then he has some means." 
 
 "Must have. He says he can leave the land, but 
 won t come and see you." 
 
 This tenant interested me. Why need he come? 
 "What of the other man? You mentioned another. 
 I think you spoke of three?" 
 
 "Oh, Bob Cairns. Well, Mr. Sherwood, there was 
 an ugly story about Cairns and he just left Belport 
 years ago, because folks wouldn t have nothing to 
 do with him. He wasn t real bad. I don t know 
 the right and wrong of it." 
 
 I was curious, but seeing that Jones was disinclined 
 to commit himself I let it drop. 
 
 "You might have him come and again you 
 mightn t. He don t pay much rent and being a 
 right misf ortunate man I guessed you would n t wish 
 to have me push him. 
 
 This seemed unlike Jones, but I said, "Of course 
 not. Well, what else?" 
 
 "He s a quiet man, bout your age, a kind of too 
 to himself man. He is either working like mad or 
 loafing round. Hapworth s been teaching him some. 
 He s great friends with the Christians. They do 
 say he and Susan Christian s keeping company. I 
 don t believe it. If someone wants help in harvest 
 or gets sick, he 11 drop anything to go and tend to 
 them. He won t come and see you. Keeps to him 
 self. He pays rent in wood, off and on. It about 
 covers the taxes. He 11 sit and look at the sea and 
 bide till Dagett s boat comes to shore with fish. 
 
62 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 They re a queer lot. Now I m done business, I ll 
 sample that whiskey." 
 
 I called for Dodo, who came with the liquor. Mr. 
 Jones took it with appreciative slowness and became 
 taciturn with now and then a glance of regretful ap 
 preciation at the tall, moveless pines, which seemed 
 to me like proud, indifferent gentlemen, unthoughtful 
 of the guillotine of the axe. Then this incarnation 
 of business greed stood up and looked to the left at 
 my friend, the brook, with its many voices of joy, 
 praise or prayer, which I had learned already to love 
 and interpret. I too rose. 
 
 "It s an awful waste," he said persistently. 
 "You might think it over. It s jest pine trash." 
 
 "Perhaps," I returned, smiling, "you and I are 
 wastes. There may be in us values we have never 
 yet put to use." 
 
 "Maybe that s so," he returned, with more ap 
 preciation than I could have expected, "but if I was 
 you" 
 
 Here Dodo appeared. "There s a thunderstorm 
 coming, sir. The gentleman might like to know it." 
 Except for a low-lying bank of clouds on the south 
 west horizon I saw no sign of a change in the seren 
 ity of a pleasant April day, for the season warm 
 and with a mild norther blowing. 
 
 How do you know ? " I said to Dodo. 
 
 "It s coming, sir." He had no other comment to 
 make, but his certainty disturbed my agent, who made 
 haste to his boat, set sail and was soon far out in 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 63 
 
 the bay, Dodo remarking, "He 11 have to land some 
 where, sir, or he 11 never see Belport again. He s 
 got a mean face, that man." This was like Dodo. 
 
 "Nonsense!" I said, but he had. 
 
 When he left me, I went down the slope from my 
 tent to the cliff and sat some fifty feet above the 
 sea thinking of these strange tenants and what fate 
 had brought them to this wild-wood shelter. What 
 did it matter to me? My own cause for this flight 
 from the familiar was simply the desire to live and 
 to live in health. Every day was now giving me 
 joyous intimations of the success of my experiment. 
 I felt that certain generous intentions in regard to 
 my queer wood neighbors were wholesome additions 
 to the physical joy of mere living when everything 
 about me was raining sweet influences of which I 
 was conscious as never elsewhere or hitherto. 
 
 Behind me the squares of my tent home stood white 
 against the dark wood spaces where, free of under 
 brush, were only the motionless pines of a pathless 
 wood. Along the shore beyond my brook the waves 
 lifted and let fall the green things of the great sea 
 garden. There was some suggestion of a lazing mood 
 in the way the slow water rolled up the shore and 
 loitered seaward. I was to become, as never before, 
 familiar with the ways of ocean and to find how easy 
 it was and how natural to see in it something far 
 more alive than anything else which nature pre 
 sented. But for this one must be living alone with 
 the sea and have some sense of comradeship such 
 
64 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 as is not easy to inland folk nor to all nations. Just 
 now I lay still on the rock edge, noting that the after 
 noon light was lessening and the water over the shal 
 lows of delicate purples. The low-lying clouds to 
 southwest soon to fulfill Dodo s prediction were vast, 
 wind-tumbled masses. A quick little shiver breezed 
 over the quiet ocean which had just now the stillness 
 of a mobile thing expectant of change. I was learn 
 ing to recognize the ways of this other larger friend. 
 How much of my interest and joy was what anyone 
 would have felt, how much of it the wholesome con 
 tribution of health creating something new to me, 
 strange to me, mysteriously delightful, breeding 
 meditative moods. On leaving I had said laughing, 
 to reassure my much-valued Roman Catholic cousin, 
 Euphemia, that I was about to make a Retreat. She 
 said gravely, "Oh, John, if you really would!" I 
 must write to her. 
 
 I felt the chill of the herald breeze and had a 
 solemnizing realization of terror and majesty in the 
 death-laden possibilities of the darkening clouds un 
 der which the sea of a sudden lost its look of trans 
 lucent blue brightness and took on a dull leaden gray. 
 
 Then I was startled to hear behind me a grandly 
 mellow roll of thunder and turning saw that another 
 storm was coming from the northwest. A moment 
 later a succession of jagged lightning lances flashed 
 before and back of me with crash of incessant thun 
 der. I have seen this meeting of two storms but 
 once since. The southeast array passed far above 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 65 
 
 the lower level of the norther. The wind among the 
 pines moaned, shrilled, and in a minute the sea was 
 in an uproar and the rain falling in torrents. I 
 fled, laughing, to the shelter of my tent. A blind 
 ing flash lighted the dark wood spaces and turned 
 to the gold of a moment every falling raindrop. 
 The thunder roll was as to time almost as one with the 
 lightning. 
 
 My dog, Mike, had no enjoyment of this terrible 
 orchestra. He set up a long howl and I ran into the 
 kitchen, hearing Dodo groaning. I found my man 
 under the mattress. Here were two animals in ex 
 tremity of fear. It is vain to argue with emotion so 
 profound. Mike followed me back to my tent and 
 while I watched the two armies of cloudland the dog 
 at each reverberant thunder peal howled piteously, 
 crouching close to me where I lay in the tent. I 
 at least should have been the most alarmed by this 
 vast display of electric energy, for when yet a lad 
 at the iron works in a field under a willow, I was 
 struck by lightning and was insensible for some 
 minutes. The man beside me was paralysed. As I 
 had never heard of a person twice struck the chances 
 of escape were in my favor. The Romans would have 
 regarded me as one forever sacred, the chosen of the 
 gods. Next day I told Dodo of my escape when a 
 youth. He concluded that it was safer to keep away 
 from me in a thunderstorm. I understood his logic 
 and he was indeed quite serious. 
 
 I had been much confined in the city even in sum- 
 
 5 
 
66 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 mer when a lad and during these later years, deep 
 in the cares of a great and successful factory, had 
 desired no holiday. The vast dramas of nature went 
 on with small attention from me. A thunderstorm 
 was merely an inconvenience or agreeable as laying 
 the dust of the town. Sunrise, the spring of day, I 
 had not seen in years with any feeling but a desire 
 to sleep longer, nor had the roof-bounded oblongs of 
 cloud or sky in the city possessed for me the least 
 interest. I may be rather overstating it, but in fact 
 I was never free from such occupative care as leaves 
 no true leisure and is good as a permanent thing, 
 neither for body nor mind. 
 
 Now I was a toilless man, acquiring abrupt addi 
 tions of interest in this new world. I had regret 
 when this splendid spectacle of the two storms was 
 at an end. I felt that I should have attended more 
 carefully to what passed and as nature is an artist 
 who never duplicates her works, I might not see 
 again so rendered the like of this changing drama 
 of the April day. I had for the first time in this 
 storm a personal concern I could not explain and 
 which I discovered to be hard to set in words. 
 
 The two storms, alive with incessant violet light, 
 their thunderous challenge, the sea lashed by 
 obliquely driven gray columns of rain and what 
 seemed like a personal fury of wind, getting noises 
 out of sea, shore, rocks, trees, and the hum of the 
 rain, yes, of these I had awe, but I had also a sense 
 of elation, of glad uplift of soul, pride in that I had 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 67 
 
 no fear and stranger still the feeling that I was a part 
 of it all. I am on the verge of saying something fool 
 ish in my effort to extort from words what it is not 
 in their power to state. Let me call it a mood and 
 leave it. The condition of exaltation faded as the 
 sun broke out over a tossing sea. 
 
 At breakfast the next day Dodo showed some un 
 easiness in regard to the material matter of food sup 
 plies. I set it aside to be thought of only by Dodo. 
 I told him we would settle the fish and lobster ques 
 tion with Dagett, the fisherman ; in fact, he had done 
 so. I said I meant to take my rent in chickens and 
 eggs from the Christians and hoped too to be quit 
 of condensed milk. Then Dodo said, "They won t 
 do it, sir. They think maybe you 11 pay." 
 
 "Have you been to call on these confident folks?" 
 
 "Kind of." 
 
 "What do you mean? Did they talk to you?" 
 
 "No, sir. I just wandered round about at dusk. 
 I saw his chickens. I got some of your eggs, too. 
 I saw the man and his woman." I concluded not to 
 press my inquiry as to how the eggs changed owners. 
 
 11 He 11 be here to-day." 
 
 "How do you know that?" 
 
 "Oh, I was around in the wood and I saw him 
 pointing and she laughed and she pointed too. They 
 was talking about you and Jones. 
 
 "Well, we shall see, Dodo, and afterwards we will 
 visit these others. I want things settled." 
 
 My tenant did not come that day nor the next and 
 
68 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 meanwhile I was childishly impatient to finish with 
 business. I recognised it as an unusual state of mind. 
 There was much to make a man impatient in a fac 
 tory and its work, where methods were continually 
 undergoing change and the men who as a majority 
 dislike all new ways were forced at times to re-learn 
 their trade. Yet one of my old managers said I was 
 a moral for patience. I liked the phrase. The mech 
 anism of the practical mind-workings of the American 
 mechanic interested me only as did our mill machinery 
 and whenever I was interested, I became in pro 
 portion patient. Now without due reason and be 
 cause matters of the utmost simplicity did not get 
 adjusted to my desire, I wanted to go at once and 
 settle all these squatters in a day. 
 
 When I proposed to Dodo to go with me, he had 
 always something he must do. I could not go alone, 
 for after twice losing myself in my thousand acres 
 of wood and once discovering a marsh with perilous 
 depths, I declined to go again until Dodo had blazed 
 a trail. Even then and far later, I was apt to lose 
 my way because amid the delightful distractions of 
 the spring foliage I lost at times the needed on- 
 guard attentiveness, and once off the trail, no baa 
 lamb was more helpless than I. For Dodo I was a 
 great personage and so entire was his respect that 
 he could not understand why I was not able to do 
 what he did so easily. I heard him later explaining 
 it to Mr. Cairns with the confident fidelity of his 
 race, "Any dog could find his way, but Mr. Sher- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 69 
 
 wood have too big things to think about. If he 
 wanted, he d go like the bees fly." 
 
 No wanting would have taken with me the place of 
 the faculty of orientation. I presume that to mean 
 originally knowledge of where the east lies. To know 
 that and then that the west lay behind one should make 
 the rest easy theoretically. If to possess the power to 
 find your way be an instinct for which the rising 
 race has substituted intelligent attention, the child 
 should still have the gift as being more the animal, 
 but who so easily lost? These little problems stuck 
 to me like burr grass to my trousers. At home they 
 were out of my sphere of thought as needless because 
 I dwelt only on what concerned the day s work. 
 Here they became vital questions. Let me call it the 
 compass sense. Unused to reason on such matters, 
 I found it confusing and kept asking myself ques 
 tions I could not answer. To trust reason at the 
 helm is for me at least unworkable here in the ocean 
 of a wood. I am unconscious that I have any other 
 guide. I wonder if the woman has preserved more 
 of the instinctive capacities than the man. My doc 
 tor tells me that if you label or number for identi 
 fication a dozen babies a week or so from birth, the 
 mothers can not pick out their own. Could a bitch 
 or cat find pup or kitten under a like test and if 
 so would it be all by instinct, or by use of capacity 
 for detective observation? 
 
 In this wilderness, to find your way or not be 
 able to do so may be a question of life or death. 
 
70 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Some practical lessons led me to think over this ques 
 tion. I spent an evening in thought and thought 
 record over such questions, the origin being a cer 
 tain annoying wonder because of this absurd inca 
 pacity to do by use of intelligently guided care what 
 Dodo did with the easy use of some mystery of 
 guidance. I went to bed and for the first time since 
 I took to outdoor sleep, slept ill and dreamed in 
 distinct horrors. I coughed hard on awaking at 
 dawn although I had almost lost that reminding 
 symptom. I wrote in my notes some conclusive 
 self-advice and went out to watch the sunrise. The 
 sun rose to left of me over a low headland and the 
 lateral light on the sea was gloriously new. I stripped 
 and ran down to the beach and, as was now my habit, 
 since I became better, took a startling cold dip and 
 then a douche of fresh water where my brook fell on 
 the beach. I ran back refreshed to sleep again as a 
 child sleeps, until called over and over by Dodo. 
 
 I was busy next day writing some orders to enable 
 Dodo to get the still-needed canned food from Bel- 
 port as well as my letters, when I was aware of a 
 round-faced, rubicund man of about fifty, at the tent 
 door. Although very fat he moved with the alert 
 ness of some over-stout men. I was sure it was my 
 tenant Christian and promised myself an occasion 
 of humorous interest. Coming from a region where 
 the ownership of land was long settled and the squat 
 ter was unknown, I was curious to see what my land 
 pirate could have to say for himself. Dodo, with his 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 71 
 
 unreadable dark mask of a face, set out two camp 
 chairs in front of the tent under the great red oak, 
 the only tree between my tents and the sea. 
 
 Mr. Christian said, as I rose to meet him, * Thought 
 I d just step over and see how you are fixed. 
 
 "Glad to see you. Sit down." 
 
 "With the anxious care of the overly heavy, my 
 guest confided his weight to the light camp chair 
 which creakingly complained of an unusual responsi 
 bility. Dodo left us, but I heard now and then from 
 the space behind my tent his ill-restrained low laugh, 
 for his hearing was as keen as his other senses and 
 the racial humor of his people was unfailingly ready. 
 
 1 Glad to see you," I said, and waited. 
 
 "Had an awful poor time last year, up my way." 
 
 "Indeed. How much land have you cleared?" 
 
 " Bout twenty acres, no account land." 
 
 "Good for potatoes?" 
 
 "Potatoes! Bout as big as walnuts." 
 
 "What about chickens?" 
 
 The remonstrant camp chair creaked uneasily. 
 "Oh, a few, what with the vermin, foxes and pip 
 they re no good." 
 
 "You have now," I said, "some thirty-seven." 
 
 "Who told you that?" 
 
 "No matter. Do you cut my wood for sale in 
 Belport?" This was my first allusion to ownership. 
 
 "Guess a man s got to live and bile things and 
 keep warm. Maybe I do cut some." 
 
 "On another man s land?" 
 
72 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "No one s asked me for no rent but wood till 
 just lately." I thought this quite likely, my agent 
 having been, I suspected, somewhat vitalised by my 
 unexpected coming. There was more to learn later 
 about Jones. 
 
 "Well, you squat on land not your own, clear 
 twenty acres, cut and sell another man s wood, sell 
 potatoes and chickens. When did you first settle 
 here?" 
 
 " Bout twenty-one years this spring." 
 
 "Twenty, I think. And what now do you propose 
 to do?" 
 
 He set a huge hand on each knee and bent forward. 
 "Will you sell? Seems I a most earned that land. 
 Would you sell?" 
 
 "No, I will not sell." 
 
 "Well, bout rent?" 
 
 "I will not rent it." 
 
 "Mean it? Won t rent and won t sell?" His 
 face reddened, his hands shut and opened. His emo 
 tion gave better evidence of the value to him of 
 this little farm than his verbal statements. The 
 man s distress troubled me. He wiped his forehead 
 with his sleeve, looked about him like a resourcelessly 
 trapped animal and stood up with, "If you re of a 
 mind to profit by twenty years of a man s work and 
 won t sell and won t let, I suppose the old woman 
 and me has got to go. The law s on your side. I 
 never thought to stay when I first come. Guess I 11 
 go." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 73 
 
 "No, wait a little. Mr. Christian, the law is not 
 on my side, not the law of decent kindness. If you 
 will supply me till November with chickens, eggs and 
 milk, I will give you your twenty acres and ten 
 more of woodland on the main road, if you like that 
 best." 
 
 "You ain t foolin me?" 
 
 I ? No indeed. His look of puzzled incredulity 
 was plainly to be read. I repeated my terms. 
 
 "There ain t nothin back of it?" 
 
 "How can there be?" 
 
 "It s sort of overcomin . Guess I 11 have to talk 
 it over with my old woman." He neither accepted 
 nor rejected nor even thanked me, but was clearly 
 -suspicious of what was so unheard-of an offer. 
 
 "Wait," I said, and going into my tent wrote 
 and signed an agreement in the form of a distinct 
 promise. Then I called my man and said, "Here is 
 your name. Put a cross here between Dodo and 
 Key." I read it to the pair. Dodo grinned, but 
 said no word. The other man read it and put it in 
 his pocket. "Have to ask the old woman. Good 
 bye. Let you know." 
 
 A few moments later he reappeared. "Well?" I 
 queried. 
 
 "I was wondering how many chickens you d 
 want." 
 
 "About five hundred," I cried, laughing. "Let 
 me hear from you to-morrow. Good-bye, and I went 
 into the tent. 
 
74 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Why did I do it, I asked myself. At home I was 
 regarded, and I knew it, as an exact man in my 
 dealings, and among my hands as a man stern and 
 just in my ways, but without more interest in the 
 hbme lives of my working people than had many 
 other worried employers of labor. Various influences 
 were now acting upon me, the largest being a sense 
 of increasing pleasure in life and a quite novel de 
 sire to have the world about me share in my content 
 ment. The cost was of no moment to me. I was 
 buying peace of mind. At home I liked a sharp 
 business battle, here I would have escaped it at far 
 greater cost. 
 
 Next day I was lying supremely lazy on the cliff 
 watching the gulls with a good glass when Dodo ap 
 peared. "Here s Mrs. Christian come to see you, 
 sir." 
 
 He was followed by a thin little woman of per 
 haps forty years. She was bareheaded, with an im 
 mense and as I thought inconvenient amount of very 
 black hair of uncommon silkiness. I never could re 
 member or describe a woman s dress. I had, how 
 ever, an impression of great neatness and of a face 
 which was pleasingly unusual, for below the black 
 hair the eyes were darkly but distinctly blue. The 
 full face was too thin. The side face might have 
 served for the profile on a Greek coin. She was smil 
 ing as she set at my feet a basket of eggs and said, 
 "I ran quick, Mr. Sherwood, for fear you would 
 change your mind." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 75 
 
 Mike came and put his nose up to meet the touch of 
 her hand as she said, "Lord, but he s got eyes of 
 gold." 
 
 This was pretty clearly the thinking partner. 
 "Take a seat, Mrs. Christian. Your husband 
 seemed to be in some doubt about my offer. He ap 
 peared to me to think I had something to my own 
 advantage behind it. Why he was suspicious I really 
 fail to understand. Perhaps you do. 
 
 "Well, it s just this way. Since my husband was 
 a lad, he has never had anyone to do anything for 
 him without they was expecting to swap favors. 
 He s a real good man, Mr. Sherwood, but he s right 
 simple about bargains and he gets cheated every time. 
 So when he couldn t of a sudden explain to himself 
 why a stranger should just drop down and say, Give 
 me a few fowls and I will give you thirty acres 
 of land/ he began to think about it until he got 
 puzzled and suspicious like. The fact is, the folks 
 hereabouts are all that way." 
 
 "I see," I returned. 
 
 "And it does seem to you right unusual, now 
 doesn t it? I hope it don t vex you right much." 
 
 She was obviously anxious and I liked her defense 
 of her husband. "Yes," I replied. "It is, I sup 
 pose, somewhat unusual, but perhaps I too am un 
 usual." 
 
 "Now," she exclaimed with animation, "That s 
 just about what I told Peter. Guessed you had some 
 good reason." 
 
76 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I liked her. "I will tell you why I did it if you 
 care to hear." 
 
 "Now, I d like right well to know." 
 
 "Come into the tent," I said. 
 
 She was unembarrassed, her voice low and pleas 
 ant, an example of the accident of refinement, which 
 is seen now and then in the American woman of her 
 limited opportunities. 
 
 "Take the eggs, Dodo, and get tea and biscuits. 
 The fact is, Mrs. Christian, why I gave you the land 
 I am not quite sure. I have not been much of a 
 giver. 
 
 "Jones he said you d been more of a getter." 
 
 "Did he?" I said, vastly amused. 
 
 "Did Peter ask how many chickens you might 
 want?" 
 
 "He did." 
 
 "And eggs?" she cried. 
 
 "No." 
 
 She became of a sudden quiet. "He has had a 
 hard life, my man," and now her eyes filled and 
 she took my hand. "I just don t know how to thank 
 you." 
 
 "I am thanked," I said. "I was. I am. Let 
 us drop it. The land is yours. I will see to the 
 deed. A cup of tea, one lump or two ? 
 
 "Two, please." She looked about her, curious. 
 "Books! Now perhaps you might trust me with one 
 or two some day if the eggs are good." 
 
 "Take what you want. Take them now." She 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 77 
 
 rose quickly and began with frank interest to look 
 over book after book. Then she turned to me, "Tell 
 me what to take. I shouldn t know to choose. * 
 
 My choice was experimental. I gave her "Gran- 
 ford," and hesitated. "Would you like a book of 
 verse ? 
 
 "I don t know. Try me. When I was at school I 
 did read some poetry." 
 
 I gave her "Childe Harold." What would she 
 make of it? 
 
 "That will do, sir. Lord, it s raining riches. 
 Now I must go. My basket, please. You might tell 
 your man to mind me to give him an apple pie when 
 he comes to fetch the chickens. And come yourself. 
 You will want to see the big spring. Folks often 
 come to see it. I don t mind me of the Indian name, 
 but it means just something like Earth Laugh. You 
 see, sir, it kind of chuckles like it was glad to get into 
 the sun. Come and see it. Good-bye." 
 
VIII 
 
 I HAD now been nearly a month of varied weather 
 in my camp and with rare exceptions had been 
 steadily gaining. To my surprise east winds no 
 longer affected me and my spirits rising gave me 
 with new strength, desire to use my strength. 
 
 The day after Mrs. Christian s visit Dodo arranged 
 a cold meal for my luncheon and sailed away in the 
 catboat to be gone over night, having errands in 
 Belport. I was rather pleased to be left to my own 
 resources. Next day after breakfast, I determined to 
 try the woods once more and, not to be lost this time, 
 made up my mind to trust the guidance of my friend, 
 the brook, which I knew must lead me near to the 
 home of Christian, and how stupid not to have 
 thought of this before. I took a pocket compass and 
 my stick and set off up the stream. 
 
 I felt the joyous call of a cool, sunlit day as I wan 
 dered inland by the water side where the .great 
 pines, spruce and tamarack rose about my path, mo 
 tionless green tents. At my feet the brook slid over 
 shallows or leaped little moss-clad rock ledges, noisily 
 .boisterous, saying things or luring me to find echoes 
 in my mind. Now it was, " Cheer up" and now, 
 "Yes, sir," or something as childish. Then there 
 
 78 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 79 
 
 was a glowing, sun-lighted pool where the merry, 
 mischievous thing seemed to pause, silent and mo 
 tionless as if in thought, and then was away again, 
 dancing water, sun braided, tossing the light about. 
 I wondered how the long lances of light got through 
 the thick greenery overhead and of a sudden too 
 how I, of all men, should have come to read joy and 
 life into the simplicity of these wilful waters. 
 
 I lighted my after-breakfast pipe and sat down to 
 watch the alert nimbleness of the darting trout. I 
 had learned to use tobacco when a man of twenty. 
 Penryn used to say, "Be a master of the pipe and 
 not its slave. I stop of a Sunday to see who ? s boss, 
 me or the pipe." I gave it up when I fell sick with 
 the full mastery I have always had in regard to 
 habits. Now to want the pipe and to find it pleas 
 ant was one sign of return to health. 
 
 By and by, my pipe being out, I was aware of an 
 odour I had not smelt before. It was another inti 
 mation of the keenness of sense I had acquired in 
 the changes brought by convalescence. The scent 
 came and was gone and came again with the low- 
 breathed sweetness of some appealing thing of life 
 seeking to be noticed. Looking about me, I saw a 
 slender vine trailing over the decayed wood beside me. 
 There were small leaflets, and set between them in 
 pairs, delicate, thread-like stems crowned each with 
 a tiny flower, no violet as sweet, fairy vases scatter 
 ing fragrance like tiny censers swung by the wander 
 ing breezes. I smiled at the play of intrusive fancy 
 
80 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 so alien to the ways of a hard business man. It was 
 as if the baby imagination had been left on my door 
 step, I am yours, pinned to the sleeve. Take me 
 in and feed me. 7 If I were to talk this way to my 
 broker between deals at the Club? I broke into a 
 roar of laughter and in the reminding cathedral-like 
 stillness of the solemn green arches of the pines, was 
 silent, aware again of the faint fragrance near to 
 me. I had found, as Mrs. Christian told me later, the 
 twin flower, some weeks ahead of its due season. My 
 book told me later it was the Linnea borealis, found 
 far to the north, a brave little settler, once dear to the 
 botanist whose name it bears. I left it unplucked and 
 went on my way, watchful of things about me with the 
 silence-born mood of the forest where sound of bird 
 or other living creature was rarely heard and only 
 the varied voices of the brook busily hurrying to the 
 great mother sea. 
 
 I soon came to where a lesser brook joined the main 
 stream and saw its darker marsh-tinted water meet 
 and mingle with the purity of my guiding stream. 
 Which to follow I consulted my compass and confi 
 dently took to the bank of the newly-found brook. 
 Here were spruce, birch, maple, young leafed as yet, 
 brambles, and the poplar best known as the balsam 
 tree. The leaves were dancing in an air so light that 
 it did not stir the other foliage. It was a very little 
 thing, but pleasant to learn why this leafage was so 
 sensitive. Plucking a leaf I saw that where the long 
 leaf stem was joined to the branch and to the leaf, 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 81 
 
 it was twice as thick as the part between and there 
 fore responsively mobile to the breeze. These leaves 
 deranged by greater winds lie loosely sideways when 
 wet with a look of dejection and, as I saw later, have 
 rough ribbed under faces which are then silvery in 
 the day and at sunset golden. 
 
 The guiding water was checked or turned by dead 
 trees and wriggled in and out under and over rocks, 
 not having at all an easy journey. I went on con 
 fidingly and then, here was no spring, but my old 
 enemy, the "ma sh," out of which oozed in abject 
 illegitimate birth that untrustworthy brook. 
 
 Now for the compass. There plainly was the north. 
 The instinct of the needle I might trust and there 
 must be the west and my course. I skirted the 
 morass, not without disaster and then, alas, the north 
 had got dislocated and I not located at all. I have 
 deep respect for the man who can usefully employ 
 the compass in a tangled wood. At sea it is simple 
 enough, but with a log here and a big cedar there 
 and bits of absorbent marsh and nets of briars how 
 can a man go straight? I would have returned de 
 feated to my familiar stream but that the compass 
 had lost me. 
 
 Then I did what perhaps was best. I set my eye 
 on a far tree and when I reached it on another in 
 line with this. At the close of an hour I saw open 
 sky ahead of me and to my great relief came out on 
 a clearing in which was set a small log cabin. 
 
 I sat down and consulted my pipe as to whether 
 
82 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I had not made a reassuring discovery in wood craft. 
 I made the further and more certain discovery that 
 I was tired and hungry as I had not been for a year. 
 This at least was pure instinct. The other was a tri 
 umph of intellect. When I related my method to 
 Dodo, he said it would not work on the berry flats 
 north of Christian s, because there were no trees; but 
 the discoverer is always thus treated and Dodo was 
 critical and inclined to defend the quality in which he 
 was my superior. 
 
 "Walking toward the cabin, I saw no sign of life. 
 Black tree stumps, half burned, stood amid the po 
 tato sprouts perhaps an acre or more. There were 
 dutchman pipe vines and Virginia creeper on the 
 house and a well-kept garden of flowers before the 
 door. For these the spring was caring. In the win 
 dows were old tomato cans holding for pleasant re 
 lief amid the sombreness of the brown cabin logs and 
 the signs of a meagre life, the rich red of geranium 
 flowers. 
 
 I knocked at the door which was ajar and again 
 louder. There was no reply. I was curious as to 
 whom the cabin belonged, but all my social train 
 ing being against intrusion where the owner was 
 absent, I sat down on the squatter s doorstep and 
 waited. 
 
 Then there was a brown flash and a hare darted 
 under the log house and hot foot after him my dog 
 Mike. I had left him tied up because of a lame leg 
 and swollen nose reported by Dodo as the results of a 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 83 
 
 too curious investigation of a nest of yellow jackets, 
 resentful of impertinent curiosity. Mike gave up the 
 hare and came to my feet. Having wagged his tail 
 in glad salute, he lay down and went to sleep. Here 
 was one consolation. Mike was better than a com 
 pass and would know the way home, so I waited and 
 walked to the highway near by and then sat down 
 again on the step, wondering if this were Hap worth s 
 home or Cairn s. 
 
 About three o clock, as I stood looking toward the 
 road, a man came around the house, for the door as 
 I had seen to my surprise did not face the road. 
 He was dressed neatly in well-fitting gray, with a 
 gray cap to match and altho his boots were dusty 
 they had been blacked. The clean-shaven face was 
 brown and thin, the features refined, the teeth white, 
 the expression grave. 
 
 "Good afternoon," I said. "May I ask if you are 
 Mr. Cairns?" 
 
 "No, my name is Hapworth." 
 
 "My tenant, I believe. I am Mr. Sherwood." 
 
 "Your tenant or not, sir, as you please," he said, 
 very quietly. "I pay what rent that unpleasant 
 agent of yours demands. I can go or stay as you 
 like." 
 
 As I had been quite neutral in my statement, I 
 knew no reason why he should have made me this 
 surly return, but the intonations were those of a man 
 of my own class. 
 
 I ignored his manner and said, "You like Mr. 
 
84 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Jones no better than I do. I am taking or shall 
 take no rent from the three or four who have made 
 homes on my land, and who I fear have been cheated 
 by my agent. 
 
 "As far as I am concerned, I could hardly con 
 sent to that. It is as well that you have learned 
 what manner of man you employ. 
 
 I have, but we will discuss our own business later. 
 I am not here to make money. 
 
 "Yes. I heard that you have given Mr. Christian 
 his land. There are no better folk. For myself I 
 saw no reason why I should go to see you. I did 
 not mean to call on you. That man Jones is not a 
 fortunate representative. 
 
 I agree with you. I see no reason why you should 
 visit me. You will excuse me just now. I got lost 
 and, if I may have a slice of bread and, if you have 
 it, milk, I shall go on my way." 
 
 "Then this was not a deliberate intrusion on the 
 privacy of a stranger. 
 
 "No," I said sweetly, "a lamentable accident." 
 
 "Indeed." He seemed satisfied. "Ah, wait a 
 moment." He left me standing at his door and did 
 not ask me to come in. He returned presently, 
 brought out a chair and gave me bread, cold ham 
 and milk. He stood quite silent while I satisfied my 
 hunger. 
 
 I was sure that my agent, aroused into vigilance, 
 had been of a sudden harsh with my queer tenants 
 after years of careless indulgence or worse. This 
 
JOHN" SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 85 
 
 and something interesting about Hapworth made me 
 very desirous of atoning to him for any rascality 
 on the part of Jones, concerning whom I had gath 
 ered in Belport on my way some informing par 
 ticulars. Thus minded, I thanked Mr. Hapworth for 
 his hospitality and made clear that when agreeable 
 to him a return visit would be most welcome. 
 
 I asked if he would set me on the brookside where 
 the water would be my guide. He went with me to 
 the edge of the forest, walking ahead of me, not speak 
 ing at all until in the wood, when he said, "Here is 
 a plain blaze. You need only to follow it. Good 
 bye," and I, rather surprised, "You must be sure to 
 come soon and return my visit." 
 
 He paused and said with curious slowness, "I will 
 endeavor to do so." 
 
 "Oh, I shall expect you. When may I look for 
 you? I usually sail before noon." 
 
 "No one sets a time here. Time hardly survives 
 the abundance of it in this wild country. I mean," 
 and he smiled, "punctualities are as useless here as in 
 post-mortem countries. 
 
 "How do you know they will be absent there?" 
 
 "I do not," he said. "I will try to come." 
 
 He had half accepted my invitation, but why 
 should he need to try? Why apparently did a thing 
 as simple require effort? To have guided me to the 
 brook was so small a courtesy that the man s per 
 sonal refinement made the disinclination to go with 
 me the more strange. 
 
86 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I called Mike, but he had left me, and I saw him 
 racing to and fro far away, declining to obey my 
 whistle. Keeping an eye on the blazed trees, I came 
 on my friendly brook. I tried to dismiss from mind 
 my not wholly agreeable visit and to take up again 
 my new game of study of the frolic thing and its 
 charming varieties. It was not to be done. In fact, 
 I observed very often as time ran on that there were 
 fortune-freighted hours when my relation to nature 
 seemed to be easy and others when, as now, no such 
 nearness was attainable. More and more I felt it 
 then and still feel it to be a natural relation, however 
 mysterious. I was to learn in a graver hour that the 
 sense of nearness to the great artist maker was at 
 times such as to fill me with awe and at others such 
 as to seem despairingly absent. 
 
 Just now the man I had left was in possession of 
 my thoughts. Then suddenly there came to me out of 
 the tantalizing, unsystematic index, memory, a vague 
 remembrance that I had at some past time seen him. 
 Where and when I could not recall. I kept on mak 
 ing the vain effort we all know. At last, as I came 
 out on the cliff, I gave it up with the belief that 
 before long I should get the clue, which is of course 
 the wiser method of dealing with a lost memory. 
 You advertise for it in the mind and forget it until 
 some honest minute turns up with the lost bit of 
 mental property. 
 
 It was six when I got home, rather tired, and 
 found Dodo with his kindly way of personally in- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 87 
 
 terested service not at all pleased with me, betrayed 
 as I was by swamp mud and bramble scratches. I 
 had to confess and was duly lectured. But if I had 
 played truant, Mike was in worse case and in un 
 pleasantly plain disgrace. 
 
 " That dog, sir" 
 
 "No need to explain. Lift up the tent flies and 
 let the air through confound the dog. I will dine 
 on the rock. Where is Mike now?" 
 
 "Under the waterfall. Hear him." 
 
 I did indeed. About once a fortnight, Mike in 
 dulged in the strange luxury of killing a skunk. I 
 saw him on one occasion as he let it fall dead. He 
 rubbed his nose on the soil, panted, whined in ex 
 treme distress and walked feebly home to take the 
 sure whipping, bath and anointing and to be tied up 
 for two days on low diet far away in the wood. 
 The stench was obviously a cause of suffering, but 
 neither that nor the later punishment and Dodo s 
 rather severe use of the stick did any good. Luckily 
 he kept away from the tents when he came home 
 from these hunts. The skunk odor and the conse 
 quences left my joyous comrade, Mike, very meek 
 for some days and indisposed for Dodo s society, but 
 skunk killing was to the end a too fascinating busi 
 ness. He must have "snatched a fearful joy." 
 
 April was over and the days of May were bring 
 ing warmth, but always with refreshing coolness at 
 night. There was a wonderful stillness in the twi 
 light as I sat on the rock. The sea was one vast quiet- 
 
88 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 ness with faint whisperings on the beach and murmur 
 ous fall of my brook on the strand. The sunset glow 
 behind the low northwest headland of the bay and the 
 side falling sunshine of the fading day made the calm 
 ocean a plain of orange light with shifting purples 
 over the shoals near shore; and now it was darker, 
 the white wing flash of gulls gone home to some far 
 loneliness of island rocks ; and now it was night. 
 
 For the first time since I came hither an uplift 
 ing sense of thankfulness grew upon me. I was self- 
 assured that I would get well, almost that I was 
 well, and how sweet was this stillness and how much 
 of such fertility of happiness my former life had 
 ignorantly missed. I had dreaded the solitude, and 
 the entire absence of laborious days. Pure idleness 
 I could not have endured. I had yet to learn that the 
 best rest for a tired mind is the employment of 
 hitherto unemployed mental faculties. These I was 
 rediscovering and setting to work. I was to go far 
 on this voyage of discovery, back to days of a return 
 in nobler forms of the unfettered use of my imag 
 ination. 
 
 At last I got up, the sea a black gulf far below 
 me, the stars coming out one by one like the many 
 shining things which the darkness of my disease had 
 brought me. I smiled as I went up to my tent, re 
 flecting on this bit of fancy so far from anything my 
 life at home could have given me. 
 
 For the second time it occurred to me to write 
 the letters which I knew at least two or three per- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 89 
 
 sons would expect. Yes, the doctor, my cousin. I 
 wrote : 
 
 My dear Harry: I am so incredibly better that I am 
 tempted to say I am well, except that you would not be 
 lieve me. That pack of devils you call symptoms have 
 folded their tents like the Arabs and gone to seek other 
 spoil and other victims. I have not the ghost of a symp 
 tom left. Sad, isn t it 1 ? a defeat of all predictions. I 
 presume that little tubercular swarm of fiends has gone to 
 play the devil elsewhere, or is still there, somehow quaran 
 tined. 
 
 This is my life up at dawn, a dip in the cold sea, 56 
 Fahrenheit, and a fresh water douche in a brook I own; 
 back to bed, sleep till awakened for breakfast a hungry 
 man. Then a sail or a canoe paddle if the sea has no 
 symptoms and is quiet; lunch, a walk in the wood where 
 having been lost three times I am learning how to find my 
 way. I am being devoluted and revoluted and acquiring 
 primitive arts of self-preservation much needed, since, ex 
 cept for Dodo, I was for a time as helpless in the woods 
 as a turtle on his back and a turtle too with symptoms. 
 
 I am reminded that you and Euphemia promised me a 
 visit. Come soon. I set no date on this letter for I do 
 not know what day of the month it is, nor if it be Mon 
 day or Tuesday. Pardon my delay in writing. I left my 
 social conscience at home. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 JOHN SHERWOOD. 
 
 Camp Retreat. 
 
 I put off writing to my one woman friend, my 
 cousin Euphemia, because of the mail Dodo had 
 
90 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 brought. There were some seven letters pleading for 
 "causes." I loathe the very name of this form of 
 charitable plunder. The other letters were on busi 
 ness and vexed me. What had I to do with business ? 
 I wanted to be let alone and so made short work of 
 these reminders of my past. Newspapers I had for 
 bidden. The war had left me long ago with a horror 
 of them. 
 
 I went to bed, telling Dodo to take word to Tom 
 that I would go out with him to his fishing ground 
 in the morning about eight if the tide and the weather 
 served. Neither did, it seemed. The weather was 
 gray and the ocean turbulent. I decided at all events 
 on a talk with Tom and went away for a mile walk 
 over the beach in a waterproof coat, the rain soon 
 falling heavily. A violent southeast gale drove the 
 sea in charging ranks of mounded billows on the 
 shore, tearing off their crests in long white level 
 plumes of spray as they rose. A clatter of rattling 
 pebbles followed. The roar of elate triumph in this 
 thunderous tumult pleased me. The crush of the huge 
 billows and their crash of defeat gave me a vague 
 sense of pity. I liked my personal battle with the 
 rage of the elements and the feeling of competent 
 vigor. 
 
 Then at last I heard, "Halloa! You be goin by 
 me, ain t you? " I was, but now looking up I 
 saw a man at a log cabin door just within the shelter 
 of the woods. I turned from the shore and went 
 up the bank. "Come in," he said. I entered and 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 91 
 
 he closed the door while I threw off my waterproof 
 coat. 
 
 "Mr. Sherwood, I guess. If Jones is right, you re 
 a-temptin Providence. It s a skatherin kind of a 
 day." 
 
 What the deuce, thought I, is a skatherin day? I 
 was to find that this lonely man had an inventive tal 
 ent for words. 
 
 I said, "What did Jones say of me?" 
 
 "Oh, that man. He said you was half dead and 
 he guessed these pines would be for sale pretty soon. 
 
 "Will they, indeed? Damn Jones." 
 
 "Well, now I see you, he don t seem to me not 
 even one of them minor prophets our preacher down 
 to Belport talks bout." 
 
 "No, I am well. I was not, but this open-air life 
 has set me up. Out-of-doors is a fine doctor." 
 
 "Cold, are you?" 
 
 "Rather." 
 
 "Hold on. I 11 make a fire." While he set about 
 it, I took a good look at him, a tall, round-shouldered 
 hardy man, with a freckled face of deep brown, large 
 yellow teeth, a gray-bearded visage with nearly shut 
 eyes, and clad in what he called "ilers." The blaze 
 was agreeable and we sat by it and talked. 
 
 "Are you one of my tenants," I asked. 
 
 No, sir. Own my own land just round the bight 
 of the bay, got shore fishing rights like anyone. 
 
 "Any luck this spring?" 
 
 "Well, fish is like humans. They will to-day and 
 
92 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 to-morrow they won t. They re terrifical unsure. 
 Like to go out with me sometime?" 
 
 "I would. I see on my chart that out to sea there 
 are some islands. Do you go that far?" 
 
 1 Yes, Cod Rock and Lonesome Ledge. Queer 
 place that. No one lives there, tho it s good for 
 fish, and there s Gull Rock, which it isn t just a rock, 
 but reefs and a big woodsy island, mostly scragged 
 pines. 
 
 "Lonesome Ledge, why do they call it that?" 
 "No one lives there. Tried it once, but no man 
 can t sleep on that there island. It s the best for 
 fish. It ain t a ledge tho they named it so. 
 "I should like to try a night there." 
 "You can. Not me. It s a mournsome place." 
 I had heard of haunted houses but an island where 
 a man was doomed to lie awake amused me. I fell 
 to thinking of how the belief had been created and 
 presently hatched a theory I kept to myself. Vol 
 unteered talk was not much in Dagett s line, having 
 on the great sea he frequented no chances for exercise 
 of speech. 
 
 "Have you any family, Mr. Dagett?" 
 "I think I answer better to the name of Tom. 
 Don t mind of being mistered these years back. Con- 
 cernin family, I have three and my wife." 
 
 "Quite a heavy charge that on a business as un 
 certain as yours. 
 
 "Ain t no charge," he said quietly. "They re all 
 dead these three years." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 93 
 
 I took quick thought what reply to make to this 
 unequalled statement. I elected the more common 
 place. "A sad loss, Tom." 
 
 "That s as may be, considering they was all a 
 sickly lot. I m settled to the notion they re better 
 off. Will you be wantin fish of me and lobsters?" 
 
 Eelieved by this diversion of the talk, I said yes, 
 and that Dodo would come for them twice a week 
 and I must see those islands. With this I faced the 
 storm again, wondering as I went, about this little 
 by-place of odd people. 
 
 Tom, as I left him, said it was ornery weather and 
 flustery. I treasured his queer words, and above all 
 "mournsome, " and went away with attention to the 
 vast mounds of water which, now that the tide was 
 up, were at times charged with danger. At last a 
 great wave made me leap away but caught Mike and 
 upset him. The surf and the great wind drove me 
 sidling and crouching up the shore. Mike was rolled 
 over and over. When he recovered possession of his 
 legs, he looked about for some explanation of this 
 insult and finding none fled up the beach and into 
 the forest where I had no mind to follow, having my 
 self a stern joy in my contest with the elements. 
 
 The immense amount of noise struck me. The thun 
 derous roar of these miles of high-flung bounding 
 waters as they fell and fell would alone have been 
 wonderful to hear, for me at least, to whom the open 
 sea was unknown until now. The wind beating sounds 
 out of the pines was now gentle and now a furious 
 
94 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 charge with never long the same response. It changed 
 from moment to moment and became at times low, 
 almost mellow, or again shrill, sharp and then not a 
 sound. This was all a matter of tall pines. As I 
 came to know later, the deciduous forests have other 
 voices when the wind is on the war-path, with chal 
 lenge of their vigor, and their cry in the norther like 
 enough to be a death song if any of them stood alone. 
 Then they make murmurous moan, soft, long, or like a 
 breathless wail of pain. In fact, near the sea the 
 mass of the surrounding pines alone saved them, for 
 here was no inland shelter. There was on the shore 
 a granite boulder ten feet high where gasping I took 
 shelter and waited, longing to have some musical 
 recognition of certain distinct notes of this wild 
 orchestra, at times only a monstrous unaccordant mob 
 of noises. When I climbed the rocks, I staggered 
 to my tent and gladly dropped on the lounge. 
 
 Dodo had got back and had set heavy logs between 
 the tent pins and the canvas and lifted it at the back 
 to let the wind through. But for this, the tents 
 would have been in the skies, or in the woods. 
 
 "I was sure you shouldn t have gone," said Dodo. 
 In fact, he had warned me, but I laughed out my 
 recalled joy in this ultimate test of my endurance 
 and retired to the warm log kitchen to change my 
 clothes. 
 
 The rain was over and the wind, which fell away 
 at sunset, soon dried the tents. The chipmunks that 
 night retired to drier quarters. During my first 
 
JOHN SHEBWOOD, IRONMASTER 95 
 
 nights, they extemporized a wild circus all over the 
 tent canvas, until I discovered that if Mike slept in 
 my tent, they left me in peace. As Mike slept the 
 sleep of the canine just, it must have been the dog 
 odor which thus routed them. 
 
 I sat in tired comfort and made notes Chipmunks, 
 queer little monks they, or chipmuk, the dictionaries 
 say. I am getting curious in the matter of words, 
 one of my many enlargements of interest. "Skath- 
 erin" I give up, but "mournsome," heard on the 
 lakes, as I discovered later, is worthy of promotion 
 to a place in the dictionaries where as yet it is not, 
 nor woodsy for wooded. Twin flower I find, Linnea 
 borealis, boreal I supposed because of its habitat. A 
 marginal note of an after year says: Linnaeus wife 
 was oddly named Boreala. Queer, if true. Then I 
 went to bed, which I had as well have done sooner, 
 and slept, with some faint previous thinking of that 
 island where no man can sleep. 
 
 The days ran on with a pretty regular routine, 
 much as described in my letter to my doctor and, in 
 spite of occasional lapses into old symptoms, my gain 
 in weight, strength and what Carlyle called, eupeptic 
 conditions, soon relieved me of all thought of my 
 bodily state. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dodo went and came to and from the 
 Christians with eggs, amazingly good butter, chickens 
 and milk, but Mrs. Christian did not come again nor 
 had Hapworth called to return my involuntary visit. 
 About him I was not only curious, but still haunted 
 
96 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 by the idea that somewhere I had seen him. The 
 Christians were more obvious people. One sunny 
 morning in May Mrs. Christian did appear after 
 breakfast, rosy and smiling, with doughnuts and a 
 dried apple pie. 
 
 1 1 1 ve fetched your books, she said. I did n t 
 care much for that man Byron. Seemed he was out 
 of humor with the world and himself too. But that 
 other book, Cranf ord, why, you just seem to know 
 those people. There are folks down Belport way 
 just like them. Must have been real." 
 
 "They were," I said, "or some of them." 
 
 "I guessed no one could have invented them. 
 Why, do you know, there s a Major Brown at Bel- 
 port, only he has an e to his name. He lost an arm 
 at Antietam and when he heard it was in a glass jar 
 in the museum, he went and got a letter from Lin 
 coln that he was to have it and get it decently buried. 
 Well, seeing that he had reinlisted the doctors told 
 him the whole of him was government property till 
 his term was over. He was that mad, for he d had 
 a gravestone set up in the cemetery to be over the 
 arm." 
 
 "Indeed," I was enjoying it. "And he put on it 
 an inscription?" 
 
 "He did. Here lies the arm of Major Browne, 
 abiding the time for to come when the Lord is of a 
 mind to take the rest of him. 
 
 "Did he ever get it?" 
 
 1 No, he s been writing letters about it ever since. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 97 
 
 "That s a good story, Mrs. Christian." 
 
 "I knew you d like it. How stout you re getting, 
 Mr. Sherwood." 
 
 I knew it and what it meant. 
 
 "More books? suppose we try a novel." 
 
 I chose Rob Roy and she went away with a bunch 
 of bananas and a basket of oranges. 
 
 A week later she returned the book, saying, "No 
 more novels for me. I just sat up with it, till next 
 morning I was so sleepy I could hardly get Peter s 
 breakfast, and there s lots to do and I 11 just bide 
 a while before I have another. Good-bye. Have you 
 seen Hapworth again?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Said he was thinking to come. Does seem 
 to take a heap of time over a simple bit of a think 
 like that. What about Cairns, sir? He s another 
 queer one. He 11 come, I guess." 
 
 "Well, I can wait. Good-bye. Come soon again." 
 
 The weather was cold and rainy without much wind 
 for quite a week in mid May, and not pleasant for 
 sailing or for walking in the forest. I got exercise at 
 this time in the shelter of the long stretch of reef by 
 learning to use the canoe, a light paper built boat, 
 in which later I took much pleasure. I had one 
 upset, by good hap near shore. The use of the pad 
 dle and of secure balance in this frailest of crafts 
 are not to be had without much practice. 
 
 I began after my upset to devise a canoe that was 
 unupsetable. This use of invented words comes of 
 
98 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 want of education, but why this despotism of the dic 
 tionary? Unupsetable must stand. My one talent 
 had been mechanical invention and now the old year 
 long habit got grip of me and I took my baby idea to 
 sleep with me, worked with it, played with it, and 
 fed it with incessant thought, for only in this de 
 lirium of industry does the inventor get his victo 
 ries. For him a factory, any factory, with its 
 rhythmic mechanism is a delight. He is the poet of 
 motion and knows that no machine which does not 
 sing true to his ear is to have long life. I think I 
 said this before. 
 
 Two days of such thought found me losing sleep 
 and I let it drop in alarm and accepted the malicious 
 freaks of the unimproved canoe, which I soon learned 
 to handle with expertness. After all, a boat without 
 caprice, I comfortably reflected, would be like a 
 woman without well, I know not what. 
 
 Reading and my notebook helped me through the 
 wet weather and at last I felt like writing to 
 Euphemia. This lady, my near friend and cousin, 
 now a well-preserved woman over fifty years of age, 
 was a more and more devout Koman Catholic. I had 
 been able, as I have said, to make her entirely com 
 fortable by a gift of enough money to put her at 
 such ease as had been sadly wanting in other days. 
 It was the only large gift, except that made to Penryn, 
 which I remember as having given me distinct pleas 
 ure. I gave and usually thought little of the object. 
 Euphemia was now an eager and wide reader, with a 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 99 
 
 too emotional interest in people and an ardent desire 
 to interfere in their doings. She had a dominative 
 spiritual temperament, enjoying like many people of 
 her type the mystical and, like some very religious 
 people, was without alert sense of humor, despite her 
 own rarely used talent for mimicry. 
 
 Dear Cousin Eupliemia: 
 
 I am making 1 , as I told you, a Eetreat. My spiritual 
 advisers are wood and ocean, and I do assure you they 
 are good for me, soul and body. I am well again, and as 
 concerns my soul, far nearer to grave thought than when 
 that blessed M. D., our cousin, made death seem to me so 
 imminent, and I recoiled from it with the horror of a 
 man unused to defeat. Never was I less religious than 
 when I gathered from my medical judge that I was sen 
 tenced to possibly slow decay and death. Abominable doc 
 trine that, you will say. For me, my dear Euphemia, 
 such new and untroubled communion with nature in its 
 many moods as has here been mine, has been more spir 
 itually useful than any of the few sermons I have ever 
 heard, and I might go further. You will say this is not 
 religion and that there is but one way to God, the church, 
 your church. I do not so read God s dealings with man, 
 or with the tribes of man in their varied grades of civil 
 ization. Do not be shocked if I say that it is necessary to 
 attribute common sense to the ruler of the world. With 
 this in mind, I cannot believe that any creed given to man 
 was meant to escape evolutionary change. Neither nature 
 nor religion is free from the rule of this law. I had not 
 meant to lecture you or invite you to read between the 
 lines what in thoughtful hours I may think of your church 
 
100 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 and its incessant feeding of man with needless mysteries. 
 In my present surroundings religion seems to become sim 
 ple, nor can I here avoid belief in my immediate respon 
 sibility to the Maker without need of the authoritative in 
 termediation of a church. But a man is himself and his 
 creed and thus no serious person in or out of a church is 
 really the absolute slave of his accepted beliefs, not even 
 if he decide to think he is. I hear you exclaim, "Good 
 gracious, John, what nonsense!" 
 
 I did not mean to write about that of which I never talk, 
 but it may serve to let you know that I am acquiring new 
 subjects of thought, and rest sure after this that you will 
 be my only confessor. I wonder whether men at least 
 would not on the whole confess more easily to woman. 
 Let the naughty part of me confess to the better part, 
 Conscience. But here I am off again. No more of that. 
 
 I hear Dodo calling I have just been out on my rock 
 to look at something, a rocket, I judge, and then another. 
 This coast is a death trap. We listened and looked, but 
 saw nor heard anything more. Dodo thought that she 
 a ship may have weathered the cape to north and found a 
 refuge. I do not know. A gale is rising and now and 
 then there is a fierce gust of wind and a sound like a brief 
 wail from my pines of the many voices. 
 
 I have been thinking about women, all along of a limp 
 ing novel. When again I write, I may air my opinions 
 of your sex with the liberty of inexperience. Let us laugh 
 at them a little, for they have their revenge when we 
 marry. So far I have escaped the Comedy, the lever de 
 rideau, which precedes the tragedy of domestic life. I 
 have here the only real insurance against the accident 
 called marriage, that is, entire absence of women. But 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 101 
 
 then as a warning there is the ^e&skical case of Adam. I 
 ought to touch wood. I do 1 . -Good: uigkh :*; :, J -\ 
 
 Yotfr s , 
 
 J. S. 
 
 This set me to thinking. I should like to know 
 Euphemia s honest opinion of women. I learned of 
 later years that what the married and the elect maid 
 ens think of women singularly differs. I had known 
 them in their variety, but work is a stern enemy of 
 the sex, and why think of them now at all, or of a 
 double dozen of subjects which never before had for 
 me any interest? I seemed to be exercising a limit 
 less mental hospitality, which reminds me, I know npt 
 why, to order a good telescope. 
 
 A morning of May why is that such a pretty 
 name? was faultless, sky and ocean blue, azure, we 
 say, an Arabian word. "Why more expressive than 
 blue? Our vocabulary of colour seems to be meagre 
 and one must resort to comparatives such as orange, 
 violet, indigo, etc. I wonder if savage people have 
 our color sense or more words for tints. 
 
 I told Dodo we would go together and see my un 
 social squatters and ask lunch of Mrs. Christian. 
 In fact, I was hungry for exercise. It was nine when 
 we left, with Mike hilariously barking. 
 
 We left the brook and Dodo went on ahead slowly 
 as I insisted, to give me leisure to look about me, for 
 I was learning to enjoy the pleasure of simple ob 
 servation unaided by science or explanatory wisdom. 
 
102 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Dodo went without .apparent care a course of his 
 own, I iulaite. *kig mood., now companioned by fancy, 
 now by rather lazy reason. 1 
 
 I asked Dodo how he knew the way. He reckoned 
 it was just the same way Mike knew to go. This was 
 conclusive. Then I asked where was the north. He 
 had it as correct as my compass. I said, "The moss 
 seems to be mostly on the north side of the trees." 
 Dodo did not know, hadn t noticed that, nor did he 
 appear capable of this kind of observation. 
 
 The beauty of the trunks of the white birch caught 
 my eye and the grays and greens, like some mottled 
 snakeskin, of the striped maple. Presently we came 
 on to spruce, fragrant after the rain, but in fact 
 there were divers odors of earth and others of un 
 known product, a mingling as in some of the pop 
 ular artificial perfumes. I observed at a later time 
 that, after a soaking rain, especially at dusk of day, 
 these wood smells are more distinct, on which, if 
 I were a poet, I could say things of note, but when 
 a man has imagination and can not speak its language 
 he had better enjoy its silence. Storm and rage 
 of great waters, flaming, far-flung firebrands from 
 the cloud battlements of heaven I have seen here and 
 felt how more neighboured I grew to Him of whom 
 were these measureless energies, arch demons of 
 deathful power and still aglow with the arch-angelic 
 splendor. I have longed to set it all in words, yearned 
 for the poet s power, the mind pregnant of a thing 
 never to be born, vain longings felt of many. I 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 103 
 
 smiled as I thought of the impropriety of anyone but 
 a poet king dancing for joy of what the unnamable 
 One has given. 
 
 Such thoughts came and went through my mind 
 with bird-like quickness of flight as I strode after 
 Dodo, until we came on the marsh. Here at this time 
 I first saw the pitcher plant, with its tall stem, not 
 yet flower crowned, and below the graceful green 
 vase with an appetite for animal diet, as I learned 
 later. I got Dodo to fill a basket with it and the 
 marsh soil. On my return, I set it out near the tent 
 in a bowl where I discovered in the wet earth the 
 sundew, with its luring trap for insects, which led 
 me to send for books on the lives and ways of plants. 
 The pain-inflicting habits of animals are strange 
 enough, but some of the feeding methods of the veg 
 etable world appear needlessly cruel. I saw long 
 after this in a hothouse a tall tropical pitcher plant 
 armed at top with two sharp thorns. When the lesser 
 creatures, like little mice, try to enter the cup and 
 plunder for food the accumulated dead insects within, 
 they get impaled on the thorns and rotting, fall in, 
 adding to the food stores of the greedy Saracenia. I 
 concluded that I would not bother my head with this 
 difficulty about merciless nature and a merciful God. 
 My own suffering had been a friend to me, but for 
 my trapped, tortured mouse what is there to say ? 
 
 At the marsh Dodo struck off to the right and very 
 soon we came out on Christian s clearing. 
 
 Mrs. Christian was pinning a variety of garments 
 
104 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 on clothes lines, aided by a stout rosy girl of eighteen. 
 As I watched her a moment unseen, I saw how grace 
 ful were her movements. The girl was more the 
 mother s child. Both were singing with evident 
 pleasure, the words heard with distinctness, as is 
 rarely the case with the greater trained voices. Mike 
 barking, to my regret, spoilt the pretty picture, and 
 the song or was it a hymn, ceased. 
 
 "Good gracious, Mr. Sherwood," cried Mrs. 
 Christian, "now you have ketched me and not fit 
 to be seen. Come in. Peter s gone to Belport to tell 
 the major no more chickens for him. What between 
 you and Hapworth, we are like to run short of 
 fowls." 
 
 Dodo set down his basket and went away to inspect 
 chickens for a choice and the girl passed into the 
 house. 
 
 "Your girl sings well," I said. 
 
 "Lord s sake, don t tell her! She s that set up 
 about it. Mr. Hapworth told her it was something 
 out of the common. 
 
 "It is. What were you singing, a hymn?" 
 
 "Oh, a kind of. Mr. Hapworth fetched it one day 
 and sang it too. I guess he made it up himself. It s 
 about saying prayers lying down in bed. Now that 
 is a queer idea, isn t it, sir?" 
 
 I said, "Yes, perhaps," and had thus a fresh light 
 on Hapworth. 
 
 "I have written it down. Like to see it?" 
 
 I did and, pleased with it, made a copy in my note- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 105 
 
 book. I was going, I said, to see Hapworth and 
 Cairns, and would she give me lunch on our way 
 back? As we went out, she saw the basket of 
 marsh mud and said, "Oh, you ve got the side saddle 
 plants," and kneeling to look at them, "here s the 
 sundew. He s a greedy one, too." 
 
 Sundew, I commented. What a pretty name ! 
 
 Later I observed that when the sun was hot, little 
 drops like dew came out on the leaves and this may 
 explain the pretty name, sundew. I wondered what 
 observant peasant thus christened it. 
 
 Leaving Dodo to wait for me, I whistled to Mike 
 and took to the lonely wood road which led to Hap 
 worth s and to Cairns, on the highway to Belport. 
 
 As I had said, there was significance in the fact that 
 Hap worth s cabin was set with its back to the road, 
 nor was there a gate. To enter the rude clearing, 
 one must climb the snake fence. Passing around to 
 the front, I went through the only part of the land 
 which showed care in a very well-kept garden now 
 responding to the Maytime sun. Mike, who had no 
 manners, but a generally distributed amiability, 
 bounded barking through the open door. There was 
 no escape for my unwilling host. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Sherwood," he said, rising from a writ 
 ing-table, "come in, or do you like better the sun 
 outside?" 
 
 I was too curious to accept what I fancied he de 
 sired and saying, "No, I am too warm now," went 
 in and took the proffered chair. 
 
106 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "This time," I said, "I have come on a visit to a 
 neighbor, not to a tenant. I have been hoping for a 
 visit from you." 
 
 "The weather has been bad." Then he paused 
 long enough to make the interval of silence seem 
 strange and said, with deliberate slowness, "The fact 
 is, Mr. Sherwood, to be frank, I came to this place 
 for a purpose and to get awav from my kind. The 
 why is no man s business but my own. You are my 
 landlord and I pay my rent. Your kindly persistent 
 wish to know me is, I am sure, well meant, but as on 
 the whole I am desirous to secure, perhaps for years, 
 a retreat from the world I knew, you must pardon 
 my insisting on my right to be undisturbed!" 
 
 It was oddly formal and deliberate and not very 
 pleasant. I rose at once, annoyed for a moment at him 
 and then at myself for not having acted on the pre 
 vious distinct evidence of the man s wish for a sol 
 itary life. 
 
 I said quietly, "You are quite right and I should 
 have respected your wish. You will pardon me, I am 
 sure. The fact is, I, too, am making a Retreat. 
 
 "Did I say I was making a Eetreat?" He showed 
 some anxiety. 
 
 "Yes, or to that effect. Mine has been very suc 
 cessful. Permit me to hope that yours has been." 
 
 That is between me and my God. I do not know. 
 May I offer you anything?" 
 
 "A little water for my dog." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 107 
 
 While he was outside at the well, I took note of 
 the couple of hundred books, the brass firedogs, the 
 table with a silver inkstand, a desk and the general 
 order and neatness. I longed to look at his books, 
 but of course did not and was sorry I had gotten 
 his verse. 
 
 In a minute or two, I met him at the door and say 
 ing good-bye, turned to go when he said a singular 
 thing. " After all, Mr. Sherwood, a man has a right 
 to refuse to another the hospitality of access to his 
 mind." 
 
 "Each to his cell, then," I cried, laughing, "but 
 other forms of hospitality being still possible, I am 
 always at your service. 
 
 "Very neatly answered, Mr. Sherwood," and now 
 he was smiling. "We will part as did Hamlet from 
 his friends, Every man to his business/ Then he 
 added gravely, "And the rest of it, the rest." 
 
 With a kind word and, thinking over the remainder 
 of his quotation, I went away along the road. Here 
 was a strange find in this wilderness, a gentleman 
 clearly, educated, yes, with a certain oddness, some 
 thing strikingly uncommonplace and no business of 
 mine. 
 
 "Come, Mike. You are a born tramp." 
 
 Then I stood still. "Retreat" I had it, but 
 why not before? These disassociations and reasso- 
 ciations of memory, how wonderful they are. I had 
 my man. His name was Benedict Norman, the sur 
 name never given to a child in this country since 
 
108 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Benedict Arnold s infamy. He was a clergyman of 
 my own nominal church who long ago had asked help 
 for one of my workmen, ill and of course out of 
 work. My head clerk had seen him and brought me 
 his request with his name. It had struck me as un 
 usual. I gave the desired aid, but although I saw him 
 once or twice, near the works, we had never spoken. 
 This was quite four years ago or more. He must be 
 about my age. When I first heard of him he had a 
 small parish near my foundry in the country. Had 
 he recognized me? I was sure he had not and that 
 was not strange. 
 
 I lunched liberally with Mrs. Christian and her 
 shy, handsome girl and went home without seeing 
 the volunteer tenant, Cairns, who would neither pay 
 rent, said Jones, nor go to see his landlord. Surely 
 I was in relation with rare specimens of man ec 
 centric or possibly only so unlike the average man 
 as to be unwilling to live with him and desiring 
 seclusion on account of some of the hurts of life, an 
 animal habit with an instinctive basis. Mike exempli 
 fied it when, after misbehavior, he had been pun 
 ished. 
 
 My own desire for a lonely corner had been sat 
 isfied. When I regained my health, I should have 
 been once more the man I was, with fixed habits 
 and impatient, mild contempt for the lame ducks, 
 the incapables, the unusable people; a want of char 
 ity that, Euphemia said. I replied that she had it 
 for two and that I was doing enough if I supplied 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 109 
 
 her with money to run her church charities and help 
 the folks that could but would not, or would but 
 could not. Now I had somehow shed my indiffer 
 ence concerning social freaks and my distrust of peo 
 ple who had lost the herding instinct. I had begun 
 to entertain charitable reasons for the desire of 
 others than I to secure the monastic seclusion of 
 loneliness. 
 
 Here were three strange characters, including the 
 fisherman, who too must be what people call a char 
 acter, and content to live alone. When Dodo, with his 
 customary frankness, had asked Tom Dagett why he 
 did n t get married again, Tom had replied by asking 
 him if he were married. Dodo said he had tried it 
 twice and both were dead ; to which Tom, with a grim 
 smile, said he d been smart enough to find out one was 
 all he wanted and now he did guess he and her both 
 were better off, for she was in heaven and, with a grin, 
 he himself was not, and hoped he had a little time left. 
 The inference was not missed by Dodo. 
 
 When I mentioned it to Mrs. Christian, she said: 
 "They were just about near to getting apart on 
 earth. And then, after a reflective pause, Fact is, 
 Mr. Sherwood, that woman couldn t cook. If more 
 women knew how to cook, there would n t be so many 
 divorces. Beauty s a thing don t stand against time 
 and weather, but right good cooking does, and so I tell 
 Susan. Sour bread will spoil any marriage, Mr. Sher 
 wood. It goes with sour children and a sour hus 
 band." 
 
IX 
 
 AT home I would not have had the least curiosity 
 concerning the man who was Norman and chose 
 to play hermit and call himself Hapworth. I would 
 have dismissed him with the label, Krank, with a K, 
 which a writer has proposed as not being so disre 
 spectful to an honest piece of mechanism, the Crank. 
 
 Now I had become interested to know more of my 
 tenant. That night I wrote to Euphemia to inquire 
 about the Rev. Benedict Norman, but said nothing of 
 his being a neighbor. Euphemia always sturdily de 
 nied a love of gossip but would, I was sure, find out 
 for me all I desired to know and be very eager to 
 learn why I had any interest in the clergyman. 
 
 For a while, I failed to hear more of my human 
 neighbors and took to sailing the catboat with Dodo 
 and Mike, my sailor servant insisting upon my learn 
 ing to handle the boat before I ventured far from 
 home. I soon became expert in sailing and at last 
 proposed that we run out to Lonesome Ledge, taking 
 Tom and towing his light fishing dory. 
 
 When I said that I meant to sleep there, Dodo, who 
 accepted all my whims and knew nothing of the 
 island s bad name, thought he would run over with 
 Tom and take a tent and blankets. Tom made no 
 
 110 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 111 
 
 comment except that folks from town had queer ways, 
 but he would go of course. Dodo accordingly sailed 
 with Tom and came back smelling vilely of fish, hav 
 ing pitched a small unused tent for me. 
 
 We set sail at noon of a very warm and brilliant 
 May day, Tom, Dodo, Mike and I, and ran straight out 
 to sea with a fresh wind from the northwest. About 
 five, we anchored in the lee of the island, set Dodo 
 ashore and had a prosperous take of cod, haddock 
 and rock flounders. 
 
 Then I declared that I meant to spend the night 
 here alone with Mike and they would return for me 
 next morning. Dodo was rebellious and said we were 
 going to have a storm, but when I persisted and Tom 
 laughed at the idea of a storm, Dodo silently provided 
 for my comfort and, very cross, sailed away with 
 Dagett, who being by this time sure of being well 
 paid for all services, wished me a good night and 
 grinning would be back early next day. 
 
 I had my way and was pleased with being ma 
 rooned. The island was about two or three acres, 
 chiefly ruddy granite rocks, twenty to sixty feet high. 
 To southeast was a beach and outside a curved reef. 
 My survey was brief and without interest except 
 that between two rocks lay the crushed wreckage of 
 an ancient sloop, festooned with green seaweeds, 
 which rose and fell with the waves as they ran into 
 the dark hold and out again, white and hurried. 
 The bow was high up and two seaworn gray blocks 
 swung over the side, not unlike, oh, very like, skulls. 
 
112 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I lighted my pipe and sat wondering if anyone had 
 escaped from the wreck and if so, how long they 
 waited for human help. Mike wandered and came 
 and went and at last gave up a futile search for 
 game and fell asleep at my feet. 
 
 I was pleased to have come, liking my entire isola 
 tion and realizing again in this sea-guarded solitude 
 that strange sense of nearness to God, which is rarely 
 to be had in the busy life of cities, and is the 
 priceless gift of nature s most generous hours. It 
 was worth while to have come for this alone. I made 
 no effort at self-analysis ; had indeed no desire to find 
 an explanation of what was a voice from the soul with 
 ever for me the sense of that mystery of peace which 
 is past understanding and therefore remote from the 
 cold explanations of reason. 
 
 I called Mike as the night came and went up to 
 the higher level, where were some scrub oaks and 
 a dozen bewildered pines storm-bent and stunted. 
 The sky was darkly clear, the stars brilliant, the waves 
 monotonously breaking. I undressed in the tent and 
 was glad of the warmth of my blankets. 
 
 I was to go to sleep. I smiled at Tom s legend. 
 I thought that if I did not sleep it would be because 
 I was obsessed by his belief. That was too absurd 
 to be entertained for a moment. 
 
 I put it aside and began to recall what my doctor 
 has said of what he called the prce dormitium, that 
 clouding interval between being awake and asleep, a 
 time when the sentinel senses go off guard, one by 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 113 
 
 one, and at last we pass into the world of slum 
 ber. No man has full knowledge of that passage. 
 I lay awake and having in this interval, as have 
 many up to middle life, power to see what they 
 will, or perhaps what they will not to see, I beheld 
 unendingly the blocks, like skulls, swinging over the 
 wreckage. I kept on seeing them. 
 
 At last I got up and struck my repeater watch. It 
 was past eleven. I took a look at the sky, which was 
 darkening with a scurry of clouds from the southeast. 
 The wind blew in gusts, no steadification in it, as 
 Tom would have said. Mike was gone. I whistled 
 and he was again at my feet. He too was sleepless. 
 I went back to bed and lay awake, hearing the can 
 vas flap and the tent ropes hum in the rising gale. 
 Outside Mike sat up and howled like a possessed 
 thing. At last he came into the tent. I soothed 
 him, but he was shivering with cold so that I bade 
 him lie down and cast a fold of my blanket over 
 him. Even then he moved uneasily, but slept no 
 more than I, who felt that the storm quite suffi 
 ciently explained my insomnia. It was blowing furi 
 ously. Aware that I must do something to secure 
 the tent, I sat up. A moment later the tent was in 
 air and I saw it, sailing kite-like, to leeward, a gray 
 blur and then gone. 
 
 It had begun to rain, a good steady downfall. I 
 dressed in haste, wrapped the blankets about me and 
 was soon wet to the skin. Both Mike and I had a 
 horrible night. I walked, smoked and lay down, wet 
 
114 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 as I was, wondering if my little tubercle would find 
 in my condition an ally. 
 
 The morning broke in radiance of scarlet to east 
 ward. The rain ceased, but the wind blew with in 
 creasing violence, hurling the spray some sixty feet 
 high over the rocks. I was in for an unexpected stay, 
 but the wind and the sun soon dried me, as I ran 
 to and fro, or stopped to share my wet provisions 
 with Mike. I was too disgustingly uncomfortable to 
 admire the waterworks and could do no more than 
 smoke and wait. About three p. M. Dodo and Tom 
 appeared and, with much trouble, the wind failing, 
 made a landing and got me off the island. 
 
 "Said it would storm, sir," said Dodo. He was 
 anxious and then, as usual, cross. 
 
 Tom, at the helm, was silent, but at last remarked 
 in a casual way, "Get any sleep?" 
 
 "No," I said. "Who could, in that gale?" 
 
 " Twasn t the gale," said Tom. "Tell you some 
 day. Look out for the boom, sir; got to get about." 
 
 We were out of it at last. At home, well chidden, 
 I was put to bed with hot bottles and a cup of hot 
 ter cocoa, treated in fact like a very naughty child. 
 To my surprise, there were no bad results, but I 
 was cured of desire to repeat my experiment, al 
 though still very curious to hear Tom s theory. I 
 have always had an eager will to know all of a 
 matter and a certain patient urgency to end things, 
 a mechanical problem or a large business affair. 
 
 This habitual desire was now continually teasing 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 115 
 
 me about small matters, such as in my old city days 
 would have had for me no least interest. I seemed 
 also to have come into an enlarging inheritance of 
 the lesser pleasures. To discover the first white vio 
 let and to find that it had perfume such as the yel 
 low and purple violets have not was a memorable 
 event. 
 
 If Dodo had had his way, I would have been in 
 bed for a week. In truth, I felt the better, the more 
 self-assured for my tussle with the storm on Lone 
 some Ledge. I had never been an invalid, but at 
 home I had been fast becoming invalid (a queer 
 language our English, a change of accent and we 
 have two words, though spelled alike). The day 
 after my sleepless night, I humored Dodo, but next 
 morning, as I slept always with the tent open on 
 all sides, the gray dawn as usual called me. An 
 acquaintance of mine says the young age into fatigue 
 as the day goes on to its close, but the aged get 
 up old and grow younger all day. As I never was 
 old I could not confirm this, but I do know that the 
 sudden escape from the oppression of disease into 
 the liberty of the do-as-you-please country, makes 
 it almost worth while to have been in the bondage 
 of the doctor, which is in fact to be aged. 
 
 I was up and out on the cliff in a moment. I 
 smiled at my fancy that the sea was tired after the 
 storm, for never again did I see it so calm. As 
 the light grew, for the first time I was struck with the 
 wonderful stillness of this tremendous spectacle of a 
 
116 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 sunrise. To-day it was simple, in a way, a vast glow 
 of scarlet light in the sky and on the sea a level 
 scarlet reflex. It gave me a quite new feeling, some 
 thing akin to awe, for in fact sensitiveness to color 
 was one of the gains this wild-wood life had given 
 me, or was it not a novel gift but the use of a hith 
 erto neglected capacity? 
 
 I went down to the beach and lay on the shore. 
 The ocean plain was motionless. It is never really 
 altogether moveless at the shore line. The vast life- 
 ful thing throbbed noiseless in little waves on the 
 beach. The great tides seemed to me huge breath 
 ings of the sea s immensity and this faint note of 
 the little waves like the heart beats of the slumber 
 ing monster. Again I had the hopeless yearning to 
 put my thought in verse as I lay in the gold of the 
 risen sun. Would such a power reveal to me more 
 than these reveries told? I recalled a favorite quo 
 tation of Euphemia, La poesie ne doit pas tout dire, 
 mais peut tout rever." Ah, if then I can but only 
 dream, I may be as near the soul of things as ever 
 the poet can be. He too has his defects. It was 
 consoling. 
 
 A plunge into the sea dismissed the poetry and 
 with that deep gasp of chest-filling respiration a cool 
 dip causes, I ran away up the cliff to get a rough rub 
 and dry myself and then to cuddle up in my bed 
 and sleep. 
 
 Dodo, pleased that I had slept so long, awoke me 
 at eight and guessed I might get up if I was careful. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 117 
 
 Still curious about that Lonesome Ledge, I walked 
 alone up the beach at evening and found Tom mend 
 ing a lobster pot. 
 
 1 Well, Tom," I said, "what of that island where 
 no man can sleep ? I certainly did not, nor my dog 
 Mike. I have brought you some tobacco." 
 
 "And I was just out of it. Well, Mr. Sherwood, 
 this is what my grandfather told me. Way off in 
 those French days afore our folk took Louisberg, 
 some fishermen got blowed down this way and 
 wrecked on Lonesome Ledge. There was two broth 
 ers come ashore alive and afore the shallop smashed 
 they got out of it victuals and water to last a week. 
 When it was nigh all done they fell to despairin and 
 the older one said to draw lots which should die and 
 leave the other a chance to bide, else both would 
 die sure. Fell out the elder got the death lot. He 
 just ran down and leapt off the big rock. End of 
 him. The other ate and drank till all was gone. 
 Some of our cod boats going south saw a wild man 
 stumbling round on that bit of beach. They ran in to 
 help him. He died fore they could get him aboard, 
 but he did tell them all about it and said he was a 
 murderer, which I don t see nohow. They buried 
 him up on the hill. The storms leveled what mound 
 they set over him and when Dodo he put up your 
 tent I kind of did suspicion it was best not to tell 
 you you was goin to lie right over that dead man. 
 You did, sure enough. I ve knowed two men tried 
 to sleep there. They didn t sleep and you didn t 
 
118 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 and the dog didn t. Like to try it again, sir?" 
 Tom grinned. 
 
 "No. I shouldn t like to spoil a good story. " 
 
 "It won t spile," said Tom. 
 
 We talked fish and went up to Tom s cabin to see 
 a gun I had bought for him, after which I walked 
 home, reflecting on Lonesome Ledge. It was easy to 
 explain the sleeplessness of the first man who had tried 
 to sleep there, knowing of the story of the brothers. 
 I confessed to myself that I was pleased not to have 
 been aware beforehand of my under neighbor, the dead 
 fisherman. 
 
 Thus the days ran on into June, with books, fish 
 ing, sailing and visits from Mrs. Christian. She was 
 very intelligent and kindly, oddly humorous company. 
 She told me Hapworth came daily for milk and 
 chickens and had learned at last to make bread for 
 himself. Of a Sunday, she said, that every week he 
 would come and read prayers, to which came always 
 Cairns, with whom he was at ease and of whom Mrs. 
 Christian talked less freely. Reading prayers out of 
 a book did not have her approval. It was like one 
 hen getting another hen to lay eggs for her, on which 
 I broke into great laughter. 
 
 "At least," I said, "the hen would know what 
 the egg would be, but what another man prays for 
 you may not suit you at all." 
 
 She said, "That s so. Ought to hear Deacon 
 Dagett that s Tom s cousin. It s mighty inform 
 ing, but I guess the Lord does n t need quite so much 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 119 
 
 information. Concerning prayer, if we ask what s 
 fit for us, we get it, and if we ask what s not fit, 
 we don t and that s the whole of that business." 
 Then she paused and added, "No, that isn t all. 
 Seems to me right honest praying out loud by your 
 self sort of talks you out of the world. I ve found 
 it relieving when things are crooked. I don t seem 
 to explain myself. Now I must go. You have n t 
 been to the spring yet, so Dodo says. 
 
 "No, I really have been too busy. I must see it." 
 When Christian came, which was mercifully rare, 
 he sat silent for the most part with the countryman s 
 utter disregard of time. For the rest, I received 
 few letters and was let alone by my small world. 
 Meanwhile, I got Dodo to blaze two or three path 
 trails through the woods and, thus assured of safety, 
 I wandered daily, taking note of the flowers of June. 
 One or two of these lonely walks were memorable. 
 On June twelfth I remembered that, as Mrs. Chris 
 tian reminded me, I had never yet seen the great 
 spring. I set out to find it. I knew now that I 
 had only to follow the brook to its main source. 
 I called Mike and went up the stream. The brook 
 seemed to have no mind to go straight to its ocean 
 home. Why it wandered, like Mike, in this loafing, 
 leisurely way, was not plain to me. It had no name, 
 by good luck, or it might have been labelled Jones 
 Run or the like. On my survey plan I christened 
 it after a baby of a river with the nice Saxon name 
 of the Wandle, found by the happiest fortune on a 
 
120 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 map of England, I think near Carshalton. Wandle 
 it was and is, a hither and thither tramp on no busi 
 ness bent. It was kind to me this June morning, 
 for here was my first sight of the marsh marigolds. 
 They were in little groups, gallant, glorious, golden, 
 in the water or on the margin ; now they were under 
 the waves and tossed about and then with quick up- 
 leap shaking themselves free with a look of alert 
 volition of liking this pretty play of gay tussle with 
 their capturer of a moment. 
 
 I sat and looked and at last laughed outright. 
 "Were they really marigolds or more happily merry 
 golds? Who gave what the botanists call the com 
 mon names to the wild flowers ? What is the history 
 of these names? If they were English peasant 
 names, our laborer of to-day has lost the poetic in 
 genuity which gave to England the delightful names 
 so clearly sweet to Shakespeare s memories of his boy 
 hood. We have been less happy. I recall only the 
 Quaker lady and then, alas, skunk cabbage and fire- 
 weed, golden-rod, Indian pipe and cat-tails, perhaps, 
 too, gold thread, and there may be others. 
 
 I went on thinking and had in a minute a small 
 and very different adventure. I saw the back of a 
 large bird s head just over a fallen tree. It was a 
 big hawk busily eating, as it proved, the young hare 
 he had caught. I stood moveless for quite a minute, 
 but he must have smelled me, for he could neither 
 have seen nor heard me. Of a sudden he was up 
 and away, not in a lateral flight but, to my amaze- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 121 
 
 ment, in a straight, directly perpendicular rise of such 
 power as broke leaves and twigs from the trees over 
 head. How he effected this I could not then or later 
 understand, but I have since learned that this is 
 still a puzzle to the students of bird flight. No doubt 
 he returned to his disturbed dinner. 
 
 A little further, I came to a wide, treeless space 
 of granite rock strewn with broken shells of mussels. 
 Tom Dagett told me that the gulls carry inland the 
 shells from the flats and, he says, let them fall so 
 as to break the shell and free its edible contents. 
 Dodo declares they sit on the trees and crack the 
 shells, eat the inside and let the shell fall. As I 
 found shells in the wood where were no rocks, this 
 is my own conclusion. 
 
 The brook, fed by several tribute rills, grew smaller 
 as I followed it, and by and by I came to a part of 
 my property which was new to me. The ground rose 
 sharply to northwest in an upreared ridge of gran 
 ite perhaps some eighty feet high. The stream clung 
 to the base of this rock boundary for a hundred feet. 
 Here in some vast throe of our much mauled earth, a 
 granite dyke had fallen in huge blocks on the brook, 
 quite hiding it, so that I mistook its emergence for 
 the parent source I was in search of. Climbing up 
 and over the wreckage with Mike ahead of me, I 
 scrambled on, hearing the hidden brook beneath me. 
 Then I came out on a higher rock and saw below 
 me a moss-fringed pool and on the further side two 
 great rocks with black and orange lichens and above 
 
122 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 luxuriant growth of ferns. From the cleft between 
 the granite masses leapt out into the sun a great 
 rush of water. I had found the source. 
 
 Beside the spring sat a man. His bare head bent 
 down rested on his hands, his elbows on his knees. 
 He was, I thought, in fact, I heard him, praying aloud. 
 It was Hapworth. The man was plainly in the grip of 
 some overwhelming anguish. I was quietly retreating 
 when I heard Mike, barking a noisy greeting. I 
 waited a minute or two so as to give the man 
 assurance that he had not been overheard. Then 
 ceasing to hear him I returned to the top of the 
 rock. 
 
 As I appeared, he had risen and was making 
 friends with Mike. He said, "Be careful how you 
 come down the rocks. There is one rock, that one 
 with the ferns, so balanced that it moves with a man a 
 weight. 
 
 "Thank you," I said, and in a minute was beside 
 him. "Thanks for the warning. This is my first 
 visit to the spring. I had no idea of its beauty or 
 I should have been here long ago. You were frank 
 enough to say you like to be alone and as I find you 
 in possession, I shall leave you with your nine-tenths 
 of the law." 
 
 My hermit tenant laughed outright and checked 
 his mirth abruptly, as if it had not his self-approval. 
 The change to gravity was to me unnatural. He 
 said, "Ah, Mr. Sherwood, you are after all the owner 
 of this wonderful gift of earth. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 123 
 
 "I, indeed? Who can be said to truly own a 
 spring like this? It is," I smiled, " somewhat of a 
 squatter on my land and off and away to the sea, 
 with a wanderlust, and no more rent to pay than a 
 cup of water. 
 
 "May I offer you some?" he said. "I left a tin 
 cup here." 
 
 "How it sparkles! Thanks. It is delicious and 
 cold." 
 
 "About forty-five degrees," he returned. "To 
 the southward the springs are not below fifty-two 
 degrees or so I have read. It has a good deal of 
 gas, as you may notice, carbonic acid, I suppose." 
 
 "But where does it get it?" I queried. "Not 
 from these hard granites?" 
 
 "Yes, they all contain some carbonate of lime." 
 
 "I see. But these rocks can not be the sources 
 of this great constant volume of water. 
 
 "I suppose not, but although they seem quite im 
 permeable, they must be one of the storehouses of 
 the rain, for a cubic yard of granite weighing two 
 tons contains three and a half gallons of water and can 
 absorb a gallon more. There are also in the micro 
 scopic cavities various gases, notably, carbon diox 
 ide. " This time he used the modern chemist s name 
 for what is popularly carbonic acid. In his interest 
 he seemed to have lost his look of melancholy and 
 a way I had noticed of glancing about him like a 
 person in dread of something. 
 
 Now, as I pleasantly acknowledged my gratified 
 
124 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 curiosity, I saw him turn once more and look behind 
 him. I was quick to see and to re-awaken his interest. 
 
 "But how," I asked, "can this granite so feed 
 this great overflow? Can it have another parent 
 supply ? 
 
 "Who can say? No one, I believe, suspects that 
 water is ever formed in the earth. It may be, it 
 may be in some far hidden laboratory." 
 
 "A curious thought," I said. "The granite sur 
 faces must take in rain water and it may soak in 
 we know not how far and yield it by evaporation in 
 dry weather. If it somewhere releases this gathered 
 fluid under ground may be a question. 
 
 "I think you put it well, Mr. Sherwood, but these 
 granites are of unknown depth and this, like other 
 springs, may come from some far distant part of 
 the under earth." 
 
 He was again the natural, well-mannered gentle 
 man, charmed out of his mood by the claim our talk 
 was making upon an educated intellect. 
 
 I repeated his words, "the under earth," adding, 
 "That makes one think of far hidden darkness, of 
 great caverns of water, of rivers in your under 
 earth, of the flowing to and fro of a great complex 
 ity of little water courses ever moving like the cir 
 culation of some monster; and then somewhere the 
 children of earth-darkness burst out into the sun 
 shine and bid us be glad with them but tell no stories 
 of that under- world. " I ceased, a little surprised at 
 my own way of putting a simple matter. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 125 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Sherwood," said my companion, "you 
 have what I lack and envy, the gift of wholesome 
 imagination. 
 
 "I, of all men," I laughed outright. "I wonder 
 what my older business friends would say if anyone 
 were to put that talent to my credit." 
 
 "It may have been a long-buried talent." 
 
 "Perhaps," I said. "I am learning many things 
 about myself since I came to this wild country." 
 
 "I have learned nothing and lost nothing," said 
 Hapworth shortly. "Good-bye. I must go. I leave 
 you a gayer companion, your spring." 
 
 He picked up his book and with no more words 
 disappeared into the forest. 
 
 I too walked away and accompanied the brook sea 
 ward. "Very soon I must hear from Euphemia and 
 then shall know whether this lonely, troubled man 
 were better let alone or could be helped by me, or 
 whether after all I need to bother myself at all about 
 this neighbor? 
 
A FEW days later Mrs. Christian made one of 
 her rare visits and told me an amazing story. 
 
 She had persuaded Cairns to visit me and to make 
 
 sure called for him and set out with him through 
 
 the woods. 
 At this time, it being near to sundown and the 
 
 west a wonder of opalescent colors, I ordered tea on 
 
 the rock. Mrs. Christian settled herself for the talk 
 
 she enjoyed. 
 
 "Dear me, but that tea is good." 
 
 "Well," I asked, "what of Cairns?" 
 
 "That man, you won t believe it. He just stopped 
 
 short at the big spruce and said he couldn t stand 
 
 it and with that, he went home again." 
 "Is he afraid of me or what is it?" 
 "No, he don t want to see you or anybody." 
 "Does he pay rent? It is of no moment, but I 
 
 want to know." 
 
 She laughed. "He cuts firewood for Jones. I 
 
 suppose Jones pays you the cost, or don t. A bit 
 
 mixed up, isn t it?" 
 
 I agreed with her. "He doesn t," I said, and 
 
 asked if she knew what was the matter with Cairns. 
 Upon this she sat still in evident hesitation and 
 126 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 127 
 
 then said, If I was to have another cup of that tea, I 
 might get courage to tell you about that man." 
 
 The tea was duly served and I said, "Dodo has 
 ready a pound of it for you to take home. Now, 
 about Cairns? Come for more when it s out." 
 
 "Oh, thank you! Well, there isn t anything so 
 very bad, and yet there is and the fact is, I m 
 ashamed for him and right sorry, too." 
 
 "Then let us drop it." 
 
 "But I can t I can t you Ve got a right to 
 know. Here you come and find a lot of people in 
 your woods and you give them land and buy a boat 
 for Tom Dagett and want to help everybody and 
 lend me books. Why, you re just an angel oh, you 
 are ! Think of Jones telling us you d be a hard 
 land owner." 
 
 "He may have believed it." 
 
 "Indeed, and now this poor creature Cairns be 
 having this way to you. I m right grieved for him, 
 I am. He s got a share of what sorrow I have to 
 spare for misfortuned people. But it s getting late 
 and I must go." 
 
 "Not till I hear your story. Dodo will take a 
 lantern and see you safely home. 
 
 Well well it is n t short and my man 11 be 
 right anxious. I don t so much mind that. It does 
 men good now and then to be a bit anxious." 
 
 It was now the dusk of twilight as I sat and 
 smoked and, looking over the slowly darkening sea, 
 heard Mrs. Christian tell all she knew about Cairns. 
 
128 . JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "He was a Belport boy, Mr. Sherwood, and a 
 right merry, pleasant-mannered young man. He 
 was at college when the war broke out, couldn t 
 have been over fifteen, and was going to study law. 
 You see he was an orphan and lived with John 
 Cairns. That was the judge, his uncle. He s dead 
 now. 
 
 "Well, this nephew went to the war near to the 
 end of it. He was a private in a company where 
 our Major Browne was captain. I guess these boys 
 north and south lightlied this war business. Once 
 in, there s no decent way out. My John he was in 
 it at the close when it fell to be in need of men. 
 He doesn t incline to talk about it." 
 
 "I do not wonder at that, Mrs. Christian. We 
 paid a great price for a precious thing. But go on. 
 
 "Well, sir, what was left of Company K came 
 back and of course there was a fuss over them. 
 Before this people must have heard something, be 
 cause you see there were letters. The others of the 
 company were shy of Bob Cairns and by degrees it got 
 out. The man was a coward. He just wilted like 
 with fear the first time he was under fire. Then he 
 was always sick when there was to be a fight. It must 
 have been awful bad at last, because the day his 
 company marched in, they wouldn t have Bob with 
 them. 
 
 " So it all got out. He was just made to feel it, all 
 round. You know in a little town, sir, nothing never 
 gets forgotten. At last the judge had it all out of 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 129 
 
 Major Browne and Mr. Grice, the editor. They do 
 say it killed the old man, but not before he had time 
 to change his will. He left Bob one hundred dollars 
 a year and all the rest of his money to the town. 
 
 "Bob stood it out for some years and I guess took to 
 liquor. I don t wonder at that. At last he went away 
 for a year and then when he came back, Jones told 
 him, they do say, that if he d keep Jones in wood, 
 he might bide here. His uncle did leave him his books 
 and now for years he just cuts wood and reads and 
 never goes to Belport. He s what Mr. Hapworth calls 
 a soul cripple. That s about all I know of it. Is n t 
 it awful?" 
 
 "A very sad story. " 
 
 "Oh, it s worse than sad. The women were the 
 hardest. A girl he was in love with just broke it 
 off sharp." 
 
 "Would you have done that?" I asked, curious. 
 
 "I don t know. I think women do scorn a coward 
 worse than men do. My old man will never give 
 me that trial. Seems to me I must be going. Worst 
 of it is that Bob Cairns is a honest and right capable 
 man and now he s just wasted, and a fellow like Jones 
 having all the best chances ! Good night. 
 
 I watched them pass into the wood until Dodo s 
 lantern was lost to sight. I went back to the rock 
 with another subject for thought, courage. My own 
 had never once been tested. The events of the next 
 day put it all out of mind for the time, but I began 
 to think I might do something to help Cairns. 
 
130 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 When Dodo came back and got my dinner ready 
 he guessed we would have another big blow. My 
 barometer was of the same opinion, but I had become 
 used to storms and after making some notes went to 
 bed. I was aroused by the noise of the surf and 
 the wind. When again I awakened near to dawn 
 it was to find myself in the open air, shelterless. 
 Two of the tents were lodged in the wood. I leaped 
 out of bed and found Dodo at my side. My old 
 red oak was swaying dangerously in the blast, but 
 escaped with a few broken branches. Two great 
 pines to the left had gone down in ruin. 
 
 As the spray was flying high in air, we set to work 
 to shelter my books in the only remaining tent, which 
 we made secure, and still the wind increased in vio 
 lence. It was in fact a new experience. The catboat, 
 sheltered by the island and ledge, rode it out bravely, 
 but the canoe was in fragments on the beach. Tom 
 Dagett appeared about seven, anxious, and with some 
 trouble we set up the recovered tents and at last went 
 to the kitchen for shelter. 
 
 "These there dry blows," said Tom, "without rain 
 is the worst, but this is the biggest since the big blow 
 in 1845. Even the fish could n t stand that. Lots of 
 them was just pitched up among the woods, so my 
 mother said. The gulls was blowed miles away in 
 land, up on the hills." 
 
 The charging waves left no beach, the wood was 
 groaning and perilous from falling branches and I 
 persuaded Tom to stay with me all day, He was 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 131 
 
 more silent than usual, but swore as his lobster pots 
 rolled in breaking on the rocks. 
 
 "Oh, Lord! To see them, Mr. Sherwood, kind of 
 shakes a man s faith in Providence. " 
 
 "And my canoe, Tom. Look at it." 
 
 "It s bad, sir, awful. I hate to see a boat battered 
 that way. It s a so derned alive kind of a thing." 
 
 It was like the feeling I used to have about the 
 wreckage of my machines. Certain things in one s 
 use do get what I concluded to describe to myself 
 as de-materialized; but by noon the wind lessened 
 and I sent Dodo to see how my tenants had fared. 
 My fears for them were justified when he came home 
 and told me that Hap worth s roof had been torn off 
 and lay on the road, and Cairns cabin was much 
 damaged. 
 
 I let him alone, but I wrote to Hapworth: 
 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 I have asked Christian to go to Belport and get men to 
 replace your roof. Meanwhile I offer you the hospitality 
 of a tent and no more of my company than you may in all 
 honesty desire. Dodo will carry hither whatever you may 
 need. You will be most welcome. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Camp Retreat. JOHN SHERWOOD. 
 
 Dodo hurried home with his answer: 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 I can not sleep out of doors. I would, but I can not. 
 Unless I share the crowded quarters of my good neighbor 
 
132 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Christian, I must of necessity break a self-imposed rule 
 and accept your kindness. I do it the more willingly be 
 cause you are to me an entire stranger. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 JAMES HAPWORTH. 
 
 I asked Dodo to set up a tent and arrange bedding, 
 etc. I put books and writing material on my guest s 
 table and then reread this very singular letter. Cer 
 tainly it was ungracious and "not sleep out of doors" 
 in the open, why not? The weather was now good. 
 A few days later I might have hesitated in my too 
 ready inclination to be helpfully hospitable. 
 
 About seven toward the dusk of this fourteenth 
 day of June, my guest arrived. He made a great 
 effort, as I saw, to be at his ease and to appear 
 thankful. I, in turn, was formally courteous and, 
 showing him his tent, left him. In an hour one of 
 Dodo s best dinners was on table and I made an 
 effort to keep the talk on to the storm and its hap 
 penings, but there were long pauses I vainly tried 
 to fill with talk trifles. 
 
 At last, as we rose, he said, "You must pardon 
 my silences. I have lost these two years the habit of 
 talk." 
 
 "Be silent," I said gaily, "or talk as pleases you. 
 I too fled from social life, being a sick animal. We 
 will each respect the other s wish for mental loneli 
 ness. The wind is over. Come out to the rock. You 
 smoke?" 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 133 
 
 "I do, my pipe, I prefer that. It is more like a 
 companion than the cigar. The cigar is only an 
 acquaintance, but the pipe is a friend, sometimes the 
 only friend." 
 
 Knowing his desire to be silently companioned, I 
 sat and smoked for a long time without a word. 
 
 At last he said, "Do you like this clamor of the 
 ocean ?" 
 
 "Yes, and the wind in the woods." 
 
 "Oh, not that, not that. Sometimes it is too like 
 the cry of a soul in distress." 
 
 "Are we not apt to interpret these voices of na 
 ture as our own moods determine?" 
 
 "Ah! but a life-long mood!" 
 
 "That," I returned, "would be morbid." 
 
 "Then I am morbid," he said. "It may be the 
 retribution for sin to have blotted out of nature all 
 gladness, all pleasure, like estrangement from a 
 friend." 
 
 "I do not see that as possible." 
 
 "You are fortunate. Pray God you never may 
 find it possible. It is early, but with your permis 
 sion I will go to bed. I am tired. I promise to 
 make believe a little while I am your guest. I have 
 been talking of myself to ,my astonishment. But I 
 promise to do it no more. Good night, and pleasant 
 dreams, or better, none." 
 
 Three more days went by, a new canoe was or 
 dered and meanwhile Dodo borrowed a small dory 
 
134 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 from Tom, as it was desirable to have a small boat 
 in tow of the catboat for landings. The sailboat 
 was easily put in order, having suffered little. 
 
 I learned from Christian that my guest s house 
 needed more than a roof to make it habitable and that 
 the repairs would hardly be completed within a week 
 or two. This promised a longer tax on my hospi 
 tality than I had intended. What else could I do 
 but insist on his remaining? He spent most of the 
 day in his tent, or with a book on the rocks. At 
 meals, he said little, but although very dejected early 
 in the day he was almost cheerful after six or seven 
 p. M., and at times talked freely of books and travel. 
 A sudden anxious look about him and a long silence 
 were apt to follow. He might then rise quickly and 
 go out of the tent and return with some excusing 
 statement about a look at the weather. 
 
 As a guest he gave me no trouble, being absent in 
 the woods for half the day, but to my surprise, he 
 never seemed to concern himself about the house I 
 was having repaired and for which I was paying. 
 My shrewd neighbor, Mrs. Christian, spoke of this to 
 me one day when I sought to know something more 
 of a man whom I began to regard as at times uncom 
 fortably beyond the boundaries of mere eccentricity. 
 
 * I suppose, she said, * Mr. Hap worth will be going 
 home? You ve gone and done a heap for him. 
 Does he ever mind to thank you?" 
 
 1 Oh, enough," I said, "quite enough." 
 
 "I Ve done no end of chores for him and at last 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 135 
 
 my man got the better of his lazy tongue and says, 
 1 Seems to me, Hap worth, you just take things and 
 never give so much as a word/ 
 
 "Then I put in and says, Mr. Hap worth does for 
 us more than we do for him/ which is true. Peter 
 just growled, Maybe/ and Mr. Hapworth he said 
 a queer thing." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Oh/ he says, Peter Christian, silence is the best 
 thanks. You can t ever proportion thanks. Best 
 not to give any. I didn t get that clear, but my 
 Peter says, * I d like to conduct business on that there 
 basis/ Now it was queer, but Hapworth s like that. 
 Fact is, he s kind of unexpectable. " 
 
 I laughed and said, "I prefer to thank when I get 
 things, but not to be thanked when I give. 
 
 "I know, sir, but you like to think the thanks 
 are somewhere." This was like her, and true. 
 "Brought you two punkin pies. They might go to 
 my credit on the account between you and me," and 
 laughing merrily, Oh, no thanks, please. About Mr. 
 Hapworth, sir, I gave up this long time back. My 
 Susan says he s a saint and Cairns says he s too good 
 for this earth and Peter says he s a wise fool. 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 * Oh, I guess you know. I did not, and she went 
 away with laughter, with which she was abundantly 
 generous, being now with me on terms of easy inti 
 macy. The talk left me with more than mirth and 
 with some feeling that this capable woman, being 
 
136 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 grateful to my guest, would not express the uneasi 
 ness about him which I believed she shared with me. 
 
 The third day of this week we were sitting in my 
 tent, not long before bedtime. A neglected lot of 
 letters brought from Belport by Christian lay on a 
 table. Beside it, in an easy camp chair, Hapworth 
 was reading Middleton s Cicero, the kind of neutral 
 book he generally selected from my increasing store. 
 
 He laid the book down and looking up said, "How 
 simple, what an everyday familiar matter suicide or in 
 fact death must have seemed to the pagans. Was it 
 that they had no real belief in a hereafter, in any 
 after, or a perfect belief in another and less uneasy 
 world?" 
 
 I did not know enough of what the cultured Ro 
 mans believed to answer him and frankly confessed 
 ignorance, but was sure the upper class of Romans 
 feared death less than does the average man of our own 
 day. And after all, I continued, as it is as natural 
 as birth, why dread it? I knew that I had not 
 feared it, but had greatly feared one mode of its ap 
 proach. 
 
 Hapworth said, "As to birth, we have no choice, or 
 none we now remember," and then, with a pause, 
 "As to death we have more or less of a lifetime to 
 think of it, but until the priest surrounded it with 
 fear, men seem to have regarded it with little of the 
 terror they have of it to-day. I do not fear it and 
 indeed I should welcome it. I am of opinion that 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 137 
 
 self -destruction ought to be made legally possible, con 
 sidered by a Court and authorized." 
 
 Or not, I returned. If not, what then ? 
 
 "In the first case the man would be honorably dis 
 missed from life. * In the second, if he killed himself 
 he would forfeit money deposited with the Court." 
 This he said with gravity. 
 
 I looked at him, amazed. "But," I said, "what 
 would a suicide care about money?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, with singular simplicity, "that 
 did not occur to me. But after all it is not quite 
 sure that we cannot take money and its influences to 
 the death world. There is a way." 
 
 My exclamation and look of too-astonished interest 
 seemed to arrest this revelation. He said, "Another 
 time; not now. My views on suicide are quite 
 rational, as defensible as Donnes . I can lend you 
 his book." 
 
 I did not like the trend of his talk. I had watched 
 him of late with increasing belief that when at night 
 he stood with me on the rock, talking visibly but not 
 audibly, he was facing the temptation to end a life 
 of, to me, mysteriously complete unhappiness. Once 
 he had said how easy it would be. Now I spoke out, 
 being more and more disturbed. 
 
 "Mr. Hapworth," I said, "in self-defense I am 
 about to take a great liberty. You have had it in 
 mind to kill yourself. To do so here would be for 
 me a calamity and would destroy for me the pleasure 
 
138 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 of a home which has brought me health, hope and 
 much more. You have no right to do this thing." 
 
 He made a frank reply. Yes, I have long been 
 so tempted. To do it here would be ungrateful, a 
 piece of bad manners. I had the temptation, but have 
 it no longer. I have reached a decision of late which 
 relieves me of the responsibility of ending my life. 
 What it is, I beg you will not ask me." 
 
 11 Certainly not. Let us drop this subject. You 
 -have very greatly reassured me. May I add that you 
 have been no unwelcome guest." 
 
 1 Thank you. I fear that I may not have been just 
 what a guest should be." For a moment he was si 
 lent and then returned to his book, while I began 
 to open my letters. Here at last was Euphemia s 
 reply. 
 
 My dear John: 
 
 Why you want to hear about this Mr. Norman, I am 
 rather curious to know. It was enough for me at first 
 that you desire the information I find myself at last able 
 to give. 
 
 The Norman family came from Canada long ago to 
 Maryland. (This explained to me the use of the sur 
 name Benedict. Here with us, as I have said, it is never 
 given to a child.) Mr. Norman left the charge he had 
 near your works to take a church in Baltimore. Some 
 time later I cannot get the dates, he married in Italy, 
 Miss Maynard, a very charming- Maryland woman. She 
 seems to have had moderate means. He inherited before 
 marriage a considerable property. I ought to have said 
 that I knew Miss Maynard s mother. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 139 
 
 Soon after their marriage, he began to exhibit causeless 
 jealousy in regard to his wife and at last threatened to kill 
 her. At this time also he sold some of his stocks and 
 placed the money, about twelve thousand dollars, as was 
 learned later, in the village bank near your works. At 
 last he did fire at his wife. She was unhurt, and he fled. 
 He was caught a little later and, her friends intervening, 
 he was with his wife s consent, put in an asylum. 
 
 It is a strange story and this the strangest part. He 
 became worse, told everyone calmly that he had killed his 
 wife and still was in constant fear of arrest. It was, it 
 seems, thought well to let him see his wife. When she 
 appeared, he cried out that she was dead and fell fainting 
 or in some kind of convulsion. It only deepened his de 
 lusion. He never did see her again. 
 
 A few days later he escaped from the asylum. It was 
 found that he had gone at once to Millwood, his old home, 
 and there drawn from the bank the money he had deposited. 
 Then he disappeared and now for two years has been looked 
 for in vain. His wife has come at last to believe him dead. 
 I learned all about him from a Baltimore woman, Mrs. 
 Howard, a distant relation of the Maynards. This is all, 
 but it is, I am sure, entirely correct. If he had been really 
 a priest this kind of thing could not have happened. 
 
 This was so like Euphemia that, despite the near 
 neighborhood of tragedy, I broke into laughter. 
 
 My guest looked up from his book and said 
 quietly, "Is the cause of laughter one to be 
 shared?" 
 
 "Heavens!" I exclaimed inwardly, "to think of 
 it, of this man asking questions about himself ! 
 
140 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 No, no," I said, "what is a joke for one is not 
 always a joke for two." 
 
 "Ah, I beg pardon. Until of late, all my curi 
 osity concerning the less or even the larger things 
 of life has ceased to exist." 
 
 "And now you are changing?" 
 
 "Yes, since I made the decision on which I shall 
 act, I am changing. Does a man ever know himself? 
 I seem to be like one being watching another s change. 
 I am full of self -surprises. To know yourself is im 
 possible. I am one man to-day another man to-mor- 
 
 i i 
 
 I too am changing, Mr. Hapworth. Let us 
 hope," I spoke gravely, "that it is for both of us well 
 to change." That I, of all men, should talk in this 
 way to a stranger, seemed to me almost with the 
 spoken word, a quite self -amazing thing. 
 
 My singular guest returned again to his book and I 
 to my cousin s letter. The postscript announced the 
 forwarding of two pair of high stockings, knit by 
 herself, very useful but, and I glanced over the top 
 of the letter I had now read again with care, what 
 a mingling of the trivial and tragic. What a pleas 
 ing situation for a man flying from responsibility, 
 from cares, from the need of decisions. I was in 
 the trap of that troubling thing, my duty to this, 
 my neighbor. Ignore it? At one time I would have 
 done so, but now in the clutch of this trap, how 
 to get out of it I did not comprehend. I longed to 
 question him. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 141 
 
 The white canvas interior I see as I write, the 
 man intent on his book, for me strangely intent, con 
 sidering our talk. The noise of the brook came and 
 was gone and came again in the freakish way of night 
 noises. The ocean drummed on the rocks, one un 
 changing rhythm. 
 
 I slowly folded this fateful letter, replaced it in 
 the envelope and sat still, asking myself what I must 
 decide. Here was I in the possession of facts long 
 sought for by every resource love and money could 
 command. I had now up to the hour this man s story, 
 both halves of it. Was he still under the delusion 
 that he had murdered the woman he once loved ? His 
 acts had shown the cunning of the insane and under 
 the belief that he would fall into the hands of the 
 law, he had fled, pursued by such anguish of terror 
 as is beyond the conceivable reach of the sane mind. 
 What now was this decision in which he found relief ? 
 And there too was the woman waiting with her wan 
 ing hope. The man was indeed changing. That was 
 obvious, but if for the better or the worse, I could 
 not always be sure. He must have had or believed he 
 had, a reason for the act he presumed himself to have 
 committed. 
 
 Whether I liked it or not the action to be taken, 
 and action there must be, lay with me. I rose and 
 went out on the rock with a pipe for counsellor. For 
 an hour I walked to and fro, vainly turning over 
 in my mind what to do. I went back to the tent 
 and found that my guest had gone to bed. That 
 
142 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 wise prce dormitium presented me with no decisive 
 advice and I passed an unpleasant night. 
 
 The morning brought me no counsel that seemed to 
 me prudent to act upon. I had never been indecisive 
 but here was a case of urgent responsibility, with 
 perhaps need to act and any long delay possibly peril 
 ous. I was glad to excuse myself from taking at 
 once a positive role in this tragic drama. The man 
 was better, as even Dodo observed. He was less self- 
 absorbed and had twice expressed himself in a natural 
 way about my hospitality to a stranger. Every vis 
 ible gain in mental health would make it more possible 
 to be of use. But after all, my truest reason for delay 
 was that I did not know what to do. I sorely needed 
 counsel. Should I write to his wife ? It would bring 
 her hither. But what then? 
 
 After breakfast, to my surprise, Hapworth said, 
 "What are you going to do to-day?" Usually he 
 was very melancholy early in the day and retired 
 to his tent until luncheon. 
 
 I replied, "I want to see Tom Dagett. Suppose 
 we walk up the beach to his cabin. Dodo will meet 
 us with the catboat and you must sail with me, a 
 perfect day for it." 
 
 Hapworth hesitated. I gave my orders to Dodo. 
 
 Come, I said, and led the way down to and along 
 the beach. For a while my companion said nothing. 
 This time at least his attention was on a very ob 
 vious bodily discomfort. 
 
 "Good gracious!" I exclaimed, "you are wearing 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 143 
 
 moccasins/ A mile on one of these Maine beaches 
 over pebbles large or small is somewhat trying to a 
 man with the best footgear. 
 
 "Yes, Cairns gave them to me. He always wears 
 them and in the woods they are pleasant, but here 
 how much more is there? I do not know this 
 coast." 
 
 I laughed, not ill pleased. " About a quarter of 
 a mile. Consider it penance, part of our Retreat." 
 
 "You should have your share then." He smiled 
 grimly and watched his feet and the stones. 
 
 "I am having my penance," I said, "but not in 
 your fashion." 
 
 "How then? " 
 
 "How? In a Retreat we ask no questions. Our 
 confessor may." 
 
 "What confessor?" 
 
 "The priest called common sense, or if you like, 
 the Reverend Dr. Conscience. But we agreed not 
 to be socially intimate. We settled that long ago. 
 
 "Yes, yes. These stones get worse and worse." 
 
 "Penance? Retreat?" I laughed. "If you want 
 me to use for you any words expletory, I am at your 
 service. 
 
 He laughed, "But there is no such word." 
 
 "I offer then expletives." 
 
 "That only means superfluous." 
 
 "Thank you for verbal education," I laughed. 
 
 "No words express the situation. The moccasins 
 get thinner and the stones too. 
 
144 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 " There are the woods," I said, "but to beat a re 
 treat and shirk penance Fie, for shame." 
 
 He made no reply but stumbled up the rocks and 
 kept on along the edge of the forest, while I, not at 
 all unhappy over the bodily distress of my patient, 
 held to the beach. We came together at Tom s cabin. 
 
 " Ain t seen you here before in all these two years, 
 Mr. Hap worth." 
 
 "No, there has been no occasion." 
 
 "Well, maybe not, as long as r john Christian 
 fetches your fish, but the sea s fine company." 
 
 "I want none," said Hap worth shortly. 
 
 "Well, now, that s queer to me. The sea s a good 
 friend and a cruel foe and a fair good preacher. It s 
 father and mother-in-law and family too for me. 
 You 11 get to like it" 
 
 "He will," I said. "He is to have his first sail 
 now. Here is the money in this envelope for your 
 friend s boat." 
 
 Thank you, said Tom, and we went to the shore 
 where Dodo waited with the dory. 
 
 "You 11 have a brave baptizing," said Tom, "and 
 wind to spare. It s gettin lumpy." 
 
 As we approached the stern of the catboat, Hap- 
 worth exclaimed, "So you have named it the Abbott." 
 
 "Retreat," I said. 
 
 "I thought boats were always feminine. Why not 
 abbess?" 
 
 "An impropriety. Do men retreat to a nunnery?" 
 
 " Not I. " His face became grave. " Not I. " 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 145 
 
 "Get in, "I said. 
 
 We were off and away in half a gale, I at the helm. 
 
 To my surprise, Hap worth cried out, "This is glo 
 rious. I never was in a sailboat until now. What 
 life in these leaping waters," he paused, "and death 
 so near. 
 
 "The marge of perils sweet," I returned. 
 
 We were running free before the wind when Dodo 
 said to him, "Take the tiller, sir. I 11 watch you." 
 
 "Try it," I urged. 
 
 "This is port and this starboard," said Dodo 
 pleased and important, but watching him closely. 
 My guest s pleasure was evident as he felt his power 
 of control over the boat. 
 
 To my relief Dodo soon took the helm and ran in 
 under shelter of the reef. Hapworth thanked me and 
 all day was in far better spirits, while I, alas, was 
 haunted by the terrible question my cousin s letter 
 kept ever before me. 
 
 When at bedtime Hapworth asked if I meant to 
 sail to-morrow, I said yes and that we would run to 
 Belport, lunch and return. 
 
 He said, I prefer not to go. 
 
 "Very good. Then we will run out to one of the 
 islands, taking our lunch with us." 
 
 "I should like that. You must think me very 
 well anything but civil yet no matter. Good 
 night." 
 
 The morning of the June day was warm and a 
 rising northwest wind set the sea dancing. When 
 
146 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 about ten we went to the beach and were about to 
 enter the dory I heard voices and saw coming down 
 the rocks Mrs. Christian and a man I guessed to be 
 my other tenant, Cairns. He was a well-built man 
 over thirty, with a face which was grave, even sombre, 
 and which remained at rest as I said that I was glad 
 to see him and tried to seem more than commonly 
 pleased. 
 
 He returned very quietly, "I owe you an apology 
 for my long delay in calling, but I am somewhat of a 
 hermit. I wanted to talk to you about your agent, 
 Mr. <Jbnes. " 
 
 "He needs to be talked to. I have written, dis 
 missing him. We must not let him spoil a perfect 
 day. Come out with me for a sail, you and Mrs. 
 Christian, just for two or three hours." 
 
 I was sure I had made the impression I desired to 
 make when he said, "I can not answer for Mrs. 
 Christian, but I shall be most glad to go." 
 
 His manner was rather grave, his speech, like that 
 of many of the men of these shores, was low and 
 clear. I suspected that he found it agreeable to be 
 among educated people who were ignorant of his 
 sad defeat in life. 
 
 Mrs. Christian said, " Can t leave me out. Two 
 hours, you say?" 
 
 "Well, not over three or four." 
 
 "Well, I m going anyway. Seems most like a 
 holiday." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 147 
 
 We were soon aboard and heading out to sea with 
 more promise of wind than I quite fancied. Whether 
 Hapworth, as I suspected, was aware of Cairns story 
 I did not then know, but he showed very clearly the 
 courteous desire of a gentleman to enliven my odd 
 party and for the time no one could have believed 
 that he was the victim of an insane delusion. 
 
 Cairns became interested in my talk and Mrs. 
 Christian delighted when Dodo asked her to aid in 
 cooking our lunch on the island. 
 
 The norther became as usual boisterous at midday 
 but I felt no anxiety with Dodo at the helm and 
 the sail reefed. Presently the wind shifting, we had 
 to tack and were soon pretty wet, which my company 
 took pleasantly enough. We were now within a half 
 mile of home and with need of care in meeting the 
 seas. 
 
 "We must tack, Dodo," I said. 
 
 "Yes, sir. Ready about. Look out for the boom." 
 
 If Hapworth in his ignorance misunderstood, I can 
 not say. He rose as the boom swung over, was struck 
 on the shoulders, lost his balance and fell overboard 
 into a wild sea of rolling billows. Without a word, 
 Dodo put the boat about. I saw Cairns tear off his 
 coat, look around him, and leap into the ocean. Dodo 
 threw an oar after him. I heard Mrs. Christian s 
 cry of horror and caught sight of Cairns swimming 
 strongly. I got too a moment s impression of Hap 
 worth and then no more. 
 
143 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Dodo stood up. "Next tack, sir, may fetch them. 
 Now then, about. Take the helm, sir. Keep her 
 full, so!" 
 
 The spray was flying. I could see little or noth 
 ing. 
 
 "Steady, sir. Now, quick, put her into the wind. 
 Hard a port and hold her. 
 
 He caught an oar and helped the half turn. With 
 my right hand on the tiller I flung out my left to 
 the desperate grip of Cairns. 
 
 "The other," he gasped. 
 
 Dodo caught the limp weight of Hapworth and 
 heaved him up and over into the boat. Cairns, with 
 what aid I could offer, tumbled in and lay with his 
 head on my knees. Dodo was lifting and letting fall 
 Hapworth s arms, with, as they fell, knee pressure on 
 the belly. 
 
 "He s not dead, sir. Take care now. Get her 
 about." 
 
 Mrs. Christian was admirably silent, Cairns help 
 less, the black busy. As we rounded the reef I 
 brought the boat up into the wind and crying to Mrs. 
 Christian to drop the anchor, was glad to be under 
 the island lee in quiet water. 
 
 i What now, Dodo ? " I said, as I drew up the dory 
 we towed. 
 
 "Take Mr. Cairns ashore. Mrs. Christian, please 
 run up and get hot water and brandy. He 11 do. 
 He s breathed. Come back quick. There, he s bet 
 ter." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 149 
 
 I somehow got Cairns on to the beach and left him 
 lying in the sun, an utterly exhausted man. Then 
 I pulled back to the catboat. Hapworth was drawing 
 long irregular breaths. We got him ashore and at 
 last up to the tent and into his bed, where Mrs. 
 Christian took charge. He lay with wide-open eyes 
 but said no word. Cairns too was put to bed in my 
 own tent. I left Dodo in care of the camp and went 
 away in haste up the shore to find Dagett. 
 
 "Well," he said, "what was it? I knowed you 
 was in some trouble." 
 
 I told him briefly what had happened. 
 
 "And Cairns went over after him in that there sea? 
 It ain t scarcely to be believed, Mr. Sherwood. Why, 
 down Belport way they say he s of the very scum of 
 cowards. Them army men 11 say of a man to this 
 day, He scares as bad as Bob Cairns. I couldn t 
 of done it. I don t seem to feel I could of done it, 
 and I m nigh as seaworthy as a fish. 
 
 "He s a brave man, Tom. I d like to have that 
 thing to my credit. 
 
 "Me the same, sir, and was you wantin any 
 help?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 I sent him to tell Christian I must keep his wife 
 all night. Then I walked homeward. I soon knew 
 that I was unusually tired. Presently I sat down 
 and began to laugh. Here was I, a sick man, con 
 valescing creditably, comfortably, making friends with 
 nature and of a sudden I have on my hands an in- 
 
150 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 sane man, a situation eminently tragic and, to cap 
 all, what I hoped would be only a temporary hospital 
 ward. Then for added human interest there was this 
 amazing contrast of cowardice in the lad and perfect 
 courage in the man. 
 
 I went home thoughtful and disposed to feel hope 
 ful as to the rescued man and his yet unsolved problem. 
 Cairns was doing well, but Hapworth was wandering 
 in mind and uneasy in body. I ventured to give 
 him a dose of morphia, which sent him into a deep 
 sleep. After dinner I went to see Cairns, who was 
 lying in my day tent. 
 
 "And so," I said bluntly, as I sat down, "you are 
 a coward ? I would give much to have done what you 
 did. Nothing but Dodo s readiness saved you. You 
 had n t half a chance in that seaway. 
 
 "Then, sir, you know my story?" 
 
 "Yes, I have heard it." 
 
 He sat up, put a hand on mine and said, "Then 
 I escape the need to tell you of that boy shame. I 
 thank God for this chance. But I want you to know 
 that I did not do it just to get rid of the idea I was 
 a coward. That man is of God s best. What is his 
 trouble, I don t know. I do know that if it had not 
 been for him my misery would have made me a 
 drunkard. 
 
 "But," I said, "you rescued more than your 
 friend, you rescued your own life." 
 
 "Yes, perhaps, perhaps. It is years, sir, since I 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 151 
 
 talked to anyone, but Mrs. Christian, of this. I can t 
 talk about it now." 
 
 "You need not." I rose. 
 
 "Oh, don t go. I want to, and I must say some 
 thing. Sit down. Mr. Hapworth has given Susan 
 Christian an education such as women do not get up 
 here in this hard-worked country. 
 
 "What he taught me in my loneliness was to find 
 company in the books he lent me. I owe to him 
 all that and much more. But, Mr. Sherwood, the more 
 educated I became and the more I lived in the books 
 with those who had done great things, the more ter 
 ribly have I felt the failure which wrecked my life. 
 Why, as a boy I was always thinking about heroic 
 acts and what I might do some day oh, just like all 
 boys and then my God to think of it! In the 
 long winter nights, sitting alone by the fire in my 
 cabin, I have had awful hours. 
 
 "I have longed for a war oh, for a chance a 
 chance. It did all seem so hopeless. Then I would 
 tramp through the snow to Christian s and talk to 
 Susan and go away cursing the refinements Hapworth 
 had brought into her life and mine. It has made me 
 increasingly sensitive and here I was constantly with 
 the Christians, pretty sure how Mrs. Christian and 
 her old soldier felt, not daring to risk a new defeat. 
 Even if I had been sure of Susan, I would never 
 have asked her to marry a man who I can t go on. 
 I had to talk to you. I could not talk to Hapworth. 
 
152 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Any talk about women somehow troubles him. And 
 now I can go to Susan and she will know and feel 
 that what I did this morning those men who mock 
 at me to this day would never have dared to do, and 
 that s laughable, Mr. Sherwood, because, oh, if they 
 only knew, it wasn t courage oh, because it was 
 simply the love and gratitude of a soul rescued from 
 the hell of drink. 
 
 "Thank you for listening to me. I shall say no 
 more. But to think of it, a kind word on the beach 
 from you gave me this chance and I came near to 
 saying no. It scares me now to think how damn near 
 I was may God bless you for the gift you gave me 
 this morning if you had not had just that gentle- 
 mannered way Mrs. Christian talks about I might 
 oh, Lord!" and he ceased, exhausted by his venture 
 and the excitement of confession. 
 
 I was much moved by what I thus heard and was 
 glad to have a ready reply. 
 
 "You went overboard to save a friend. I like to 
 say to you that before this gave me a new motive I 
 had talked with Mrs. Christian and was planning to 
 do something for you." 
 
 He sat up. "Is that so? What, before this? 
 You can t mean it, sir." 
 
 "Yes, I meant it, but now you have made a friend 
 and so have I. I have discharged Jones. You are 
 to take over my affairs. We will talk of this further 
 when you are better. I am sure from what I hear 
 that you are a competent man and one to trust and I 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 153 
 
 mean to trust you. I have long had in mind to buy 
 some pine lands up the shore. Now I wish you to be 
 my agent and to cut and sell as seems best to you. 
 No, don t thank me. This is my blessed chance. You 
 have had yours. Good night. We will breakfast to 
 gether." 
 
 He merely looked at me with over-full eyes and 
 fell back on his pillow murmuring, "A friend you 
 my friend thank God!" 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 I TURNED in early, wondering as I dropped into 
 slumber, what effect the day would have on Hap- 
 worth and if it would not be best to speak outright 
 of his delusions; in common phrase, to take the bull 
 by the horns. Then I laughed at the thought of that 
 as being the horns of a dilemma, for to let go were 
 perilous, to hold on till the bull acquired a Christian 
 spirit a lengthy task. This is the last I remember 
 of an eventful day. I fell overboard into the ocean 
 of sleep and was as well drowned as Hapworth. 
 
 After all these thousands of years, it is strange that 
 we know so little of that time in which we expend a 
 third of our years. It is a country from whose 
 bourne all travellers return with little knowledge. I 
 have heard that it solves problems and confides their 
 solution to the post dormitium. I much doubt the 
 story I have read of poets making verse in sleep. I 
 heard that Voltaire did it, or said he did, and even that 
 he composed in sleep a whole Canto, but he was the 
 prince of all the liars. Once I swore outrageously in a 
 dream and at Euphemia, of all people, for in fact I 
 never swear in daytime. I wonder how many men 
 a man is. I seem, as I write, to be not a changed 
 man, but another man and never more than when 
 
 154 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 155 
 
 I am born again at morning for the life of the day. 
 
 Awaking at dawn, I heard Mrs. Christian astir in 
 the Hapworth ward. Cairns, in his ward, was snor 
 ing with gentle rhythmic regularity, to be scanned in 
 spondees, and then out of the ridiculous suggestions 
 of memory came, But gently scan thy fellow man." 
 Enjoying my nonsense, I stood listening. To scan 
 Dodo s performance were impossible. I thought of 
 the god Snora and went down to my bath laughing. 
 
 A south wind gently chased what Shelley calls 
 wavelets along the beach line. They tumbled and 
 played like wild white kittens or streamed out along 
 the shore in wind-twisted coils, snake like. It was 
 quite new to me, for the south wind blowing parallel 
 to my beach is rare. I took one fearsome, delicious 
 plunge and then a douche of fresh brook water. 
 
 Dodo was calling to me to come up and see Mr. 
 Ilapworth, "he was that wild." I made haste to 
 dress and went into the tent. Ilapworth was seated 
 on his bedside. 
 
 "Mr. Sherwood," he cried, "this man will not let 
 me get up. Are they outside?" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "The detectives!" 
 
 "Nonsense. There is no one but me." 
 
 "I must have been dreaming." He sunk back in 
 bed, saying, "What is the matter? What was it?" 
 
 To which I replied, "You went out to sail yester 
 day." 
 
 "Yes, I remember that." 
 
156 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 t (. 
 
 You fell overboard. Cairns went over after yor. 
 and saved your life. Don t you remember that ? 
 
 "No, nothing until I was in the tent." 
 
 "Indeed. You must keep quiet until you are 
 better. " 
 
 "He saved me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Then he did me an evil turn. 
 
 1 1 No, a good one for you and for him. 
 
 "You are very kind to a man like me. I do not 
 want to live. 
 
 Oh, you will. You are the victim of some absurd 
 delusion. 
 
 "Who told you that?" he cried fiercely. To go on 
 or retreat ? I did not know which were better. 
 
 "We will not talk of it now." 
 
 "You had better not," he exclaimed angrily. 
 
 He was so much excited that I gave up all speech 
 for a little and then said merely, "Trust me as a 
 friend, Mr. Hapworth. I will come again, and do you 
 feel well enough for books?" 
 
 "No, thank you, and I had rather be alone." 
 
 "Very good. You will not tell Cairns he did you 
 an ill turn." 
 
 "I am a troubled man, Mr. Sherwood, and some 
 times I think I am possessed by fiends, but I am at 
 least a gentleman." 
 
 "Pardon me," I said, and left him. For two days 
 he lay abed, cared for by Dodo and me. 
 
 I saw meanwhile much of Cairns, whom I increas- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 157 
 
 ingly liked. We settled that there should be a saw 
 mill, I to supply the money and he, as my partner, 
 to divide with me the profits. He suggested Chris 
 tian as foreman. The change in the man s manner 
 was to me a daily pleasure. Moreover, he was intel 
 ligent and thoughtful. Once again he spoke, now 
 quite at his ease, of his own misconduct and at last 
 said, Don t you think, sir, there ought to be for crime 
 after the man has been punished by law a statute of 
 limitation in regard to the social consequences? I 
 mean for a repentant man. He is apt to be made to 
 suffer endlessly. 
 
 I said, Yes, but I fear we may wait long for that. 
 
 "I suppose you are right, sir, but it is hard. I 
 found it so. 
 
 "But yours was not a crime." 
 
 "Oh, the worst of crimes, a crime against my coun- 
 try." 
 
 "It is over for you now, a thing in the past of a 
 boy." 
 
 "Yes, but not the memory of it." 
 
 1 You will outlive even that bitterness. Let us talk 
 of the mill, Cairns. 
 
 Mrs. Christian reported the wonder our adventure 
 excited in Belport, whither she had gone, I was sure, 
 for an honest gossip about Cairns. I fancy it lost 
 nothing in the telling. "The Mayor, he s coming 
 out to see you, and more of them." 
 
 When she had gone, Cairns said to me, "I will 
 not see them." 
 
158 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Yes," I said, "you will. You resented their 
 treatment of you, but if it was cruel and excessive, 
 was it not founded on facts you could not deny?" 
 
 "Yes, I was all they said but to be brutally han 
 dled for years it was too much, and there was, what 
 was worse, a woman." 
 
 "You will find a kinder one." 
 
 "I have. I ought to tell you. I almost did tell 
 you/ 
 
 "Susan Christian?" 
 
 "Yes. Now I can ask her. A week ago I could 
 not." 
 
 "By George, I will build a house. We 11 plan it 
 to-night; and be thankful for this new world you 
 found under water. Be simply, quietly pleasant with 
 these people. Think of them as glad of your rescue 
 of Robert Cairns from the bad opinion of men who 
 are some of them surely, oh, no doubt of it, glad to 
 believe in you again." 
 
 "I will," he said, laughing, "but you ought to 
 have been a preacher, Mr. Sherwood." 
 
 "The devil!" I exclaimed, and went away laugh 
 ing and thinking of the whist or poker party at the 
 club hearing of me as an angel and a preacher, elect 
 of nature. 
 
 Mrs. Christian was right. The Belport folk found 
 difficulty in reversing their opinion of the man whom 
 their contempt had driven into exile. 
 
 I had the benefit of two visits from these somewhat 
 puzzled people. This was late in the afternoon of 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 159 
 
 my advice to Cairns. The day had been warm. The 
 air was hazy with the smoke from a smudge in front 
 of the tents, an attention to the mosquitoes. I was 
 reading, or trying to, in the failing light. Cairns 
 had a table outside of the tent and was busy with a 
 sketch plan I had made of the mill and of some of 
 my suggestions for adjusting the saws. 
 
 Within the shelter of my tent, I heard Cairns say, 
 "If Mr. Sherwood were here, he might ask you to 
 sit down. I take no such liberty." I sat up, at 
 tentive, and heard what followed. 
 
 "Why, Bob, what s the matter?" 
 
 His voice rose. "I am Mr. Cairns, not Bob, and 
 you, I suppose, are still editor of the Belport Star. 
 What is it you want?" 
 
 "Why, what s amiss? I guess you re still some 
 angry and the fact is you was n t too charitably con 
 sidered. Some don t altogether credit the story of 
 that heroic rescue. I call it heroic. Now a few par 
 ticulars would gratify I assure you would gratify, 
 the legitimate desire of the public to hear from you 
 personally. In fact " 
 
 Then I heard Cairns break in angrily, "Mr. Grice, 
 I think that will do. I" 
 
 "But permit me when you were in trouble years 
 ago, I am sure your trouble was misstated, misunder 
 stood" 
 
 "It was not. I behaved like the coward I was. 
 You were of those who made the worst of a boy s 
 misbehavior. It is men like you, who struck no blow 
 
160 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 in the war, who submitted to no test of courage, who, 
 north and south, have done all they could to keep 
 alive ill feeling. You can t interview me." 
 
 "But, Mr. Cairns, you aren t very wise not to 
 make friends with the press. It s a power, sir " 
 
 "A power. Yes for good or evil. Stop just here, 
 Mr. Grice. You came to get an article for your 
 paper, and because I want none of you, you threaten 
 me, in a way. You and your press may go to Sheol 
 if you know what that is. Good-bye. 
 
 I heard him moving and the other man exclaim, 
 1 Well, by George !" Then he too went away through 
 the woods. I regretted not to have seen him. 
 
 Coming out, I saw Cairns, still red and angry. 
 
 "Well, well," I laughed, "you are doing pretty 
 well with my sermon." 
 
 "Mr. Sherwood, that man was the first one to take 
 my miserable story straight to my uncle. It killed 
 him. He was a proud man. It killed him. He had 
 had many troubles and deaths and, as he was fond 
 of me, what I did or failed to do, hit him hard. 
 You see, my folks had been in every war since the 
 Louisburg time. I did so want to kick that man. 
 He will have to be careful." 
 
 That was my opinion. This happy, alert, well 
 built, young fellow was an altered personality, had 
 undergone a sea change. 
 
 Mr. Hapworth was now up and came to meals. 
 What he said to Cairns of his rescue I neither heard 
 nor asked. The latter was to leave next day to bar- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 161 
 
 gain for the pine lands. There were other guests, 
 not a few, mosquitoes and black flies. They did not 
 bite me at all, but to my amusement they attacked 
 Hapworth ferociously, singularly disturbing the con 
 tinuity of his melancholic moods, so that he was 
 every now and then running out to stir up the 
 smudge, which the smudge is an art and demands 
 judgment and cedar bark, as not everyone knows. 
 Now this was years ago but nowadays we have Chris 
 tian Science and of course no need to scratch the bite 
 even of a Jersey mosquito. 
 
 I was speculating that night on the remedial value 
 of these tormentors when Dodo appeared. He was 
 much excited. "That gentleman! Didn t you hear 
 him!" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "He got up last night, about twelve o clock, and 
 came to my tent and told me he was afraid to be 
 alone. Two days ago he said he killed someone. I 
 asked him who it was and he didn t seem to know. 
 I m scared of that man. He comes and sits in the 
 kitchen when you re away and he s hoodooed the 
 bread so it won t rise!" 
 
 Nonsense ! 
 
 "Never hear that? The bread won t ever rise if 
 there s a crazy around. I just think, sir, he ought 
 to have a doctor." 
 
 "That is my opinion, Dodo, and I am glad to tell 
 you that I have persuaded Dr. Heath to pay me a 
 visit. I wrote before we started this private sani- 
 
162 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 tarium and, Dodo, Miss Euphemia is coming with 
 him. You will go to Belport in the catboat to-mor 
 row and wait for them. If the day is bad, they must 
 drive up and walk through the woods. Get another 
 tent and blankets, whatever we need. They may keep 
 you till day after to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, sir, the doctor he s all right, but Miss 
 Phony" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I was only just reflecting. " 
 
 "Oh, get out!" 
 
 "Better send that gentleman home. His house is 
 most done." 
 
 "No, it is not." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Since of late I knew of Hapworth s delusion I 
 would have been glad to put off Euphemia s visit, 
 but it was now out of the question and I sorely 
 needed Heath s counsel. 
 
 Dodo went away at dawn before I bathed and for 
 a time the population was limited to Hapworth, Mike, 
 myself, mosquitoes, and an occasional black fly. 
 
 I routed Hapworth out at sun-up and made him 
 take a dip in the cold surf. He re-appeared at break 
 fast, which was none of the best, as Dodo being ab 
 sent I tried my hand at an omelette and made coffee 
 in the teapot with memorable results. Hapworth 
 heard that Dodo had gone to Belport, but of my new 
 guests, I said, as yet, nothing. My companion was 
 for the time of day notably better and would go out 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 163 
 
 to the kitchen and make the coffee and, in fact, did 
 make it well. I began coolly to talk of his rescue 
 and the Belport editor and he in turn very rationally 
 of Cairns and his good qualities, and what I had 
 done for him, with a pleasant word of Susan. 
 
 At last he said, "Were you ever haunted by a 
 dream until now and then it seemed to you to have 
 been real ? 
 
 This abrupt break into subjects I had with care 
 avoided was rather startling and put me on my guard. 
 Was it a sign of recovering reason and a hopeful 
 symptom ? 
 
 "Oh, yes," I replied; "I used to dream of being 
 able to move through the air at will until at last for 
 a little while, on waking, I felt I could do it. 
 
 "But not permanently do it?" 
 
 "No, of course not. One may even have in sleep an 
 insane dream of having killed someone and be pleas 
 antly contradicted by the relief of the waking state." 
 
 "But if it continued, the dream?" 
 
 That would mean an insane state. 
 
 He was silent a while and then said, "Let us talk 
 of something else." 
 
 "Gladly," I said. "You are better, but you need 
 exercise. Suppose we try a long walk through the 
 woods and over Gay Mountain. There is a good trail, 
 or by the way, last week you spoke of trout fishing. 
 I have not fished since I noosed pike in a Jersey mill- 
 race. You might give me a lesson. There are all 
 kinds of tackle in Dodo s tent." 
 
164 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I saw at once that I was fortunate. I left him 
 to find rods, flies and nets, an evidently pleasured 
 man and liking the small responsibility I declined. 
 
 While he was absent, I sat outside of my tent and 
 smoked the pipe of reflection. Yes, I had come hither 
 in April. It was now mid July. I must think over 
 the situation created by the coming guests. I can not 
 think consecutively here. At home my mind worked 
 in an orderly, disciplined way. Here I am so jostled 
 of late by the small needs of the moment that I 
 forgot to put down my first find of the red lily and 
 an orchid nameless for me and the green fungus, 
 luminous of damp nights, which seemed to my igno 
 rance so wonderful. I got back to my social problem. 
 In a day or two I would have to tell Euphemia who 
 Hapworth was and the doctor of course very soon, to 
 my relief. I had become pitiful of my unhappy 
 guest and was learning to like the man and to admire 
 his emerging social qualities and his knowledge of 
 things of which I knew little and which were slowly 
 acquiring interest. I had been a rather lonely fellow 
 and without desire to be otherwise. Now the mechan 
 ism called man was winning my attention and I was 
 glad that Cairns, a simpler personality, liked me and 
 would be pleased to feel that I had won the regard 
 of Hapworth, his friend, a far more complex char 
 acter. 
 
 I heard a quite cheerful "Halloo!" from the man 
 in question and went away up the brook with him. 
 I listened like a child to his instructions, tried a cast 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 165 
 
 and another, Hap worth saying, " Strike quicker. 
 Your personal equation is defective." 
 
 I knew what that meant. The hand did not re 
 spond quickly enough to the bite. The next time I 
 lodged my fly in the branches of a pine and broke 
 the tip. Then I sat down and watched the brilliant 
 success of the personal equation of Hapworth, who 
 soon filled his basket. 
 
 We went home and Hapworth cooked the trout in 
 paper for lunch. Cairns turned up soon after and 
 I went into the wood to collect marsh marigolds and 
 twin flowers to decorate the dinner table in honor of 
 Euphemia. 
 
 On my return I found Cairns pleasantly talking 
 with the one-armed Major Browne. He said to me 
 frankly, Major Browne was about the only man in 
 Belport, Mr. Sherwood, who was kind to me when, 
 as a lad, I lost the respect of other men. He did his 
 best for me with my uncle. I am glad for his sake 
 to be able to look him in the face without shame." 
 
 "And I am glad, too," said the Major. "I m 
 real glad. I hear, sir, you have been right kind to 
 him. He deserves it." 
 
 I said simply that few things had given me more 
 satisfaction and added, to draw out the Major, that 
 I was sorry to see he had lost his arm, and did he 
 miss it much? 
 
 "No and yes." It had brought him the medal of 
 valor. That was worth an arm. I saw Cairns face 
 change, but the Major went on. "To think of it, 
 
166 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 sir. That arm is in a jar in a government show in 
 Washington. If Abe Lincoln had lived, I d ave got 
 it for decent burial. Comes an east wind and I feel 
 every finger and sometimes I want to scratch it, 
 mainly the thumb, and how can I when it s in a jar 
 in alcohol?" 
 
 "But," I said, "it would be as bad if it was 
 buried." 
 
 "Never thought of that. That s so." The Major 
 accepted a segar and rye whiskey and left us, re 
 marking that he might be of service in the matter 
 of marketing pine, and Hapworth sat down on the 
 rock to read. Cairns turned to his plan for the mill 
 and I to arrange the table in my large tent. 
 
 Presently Hapworth came in. He saw the seats 
 for five and as he at once showed uneasiness, I had 
 to explain. 
 
 * I expect my cousin, Dr. Heath. I want him to see 
 me. You know I was said to have some lung trouble. 
 I fear I did fib mildly. In fact, I shrunk from an 
 other overhauling of my interior and meant to have 
 none. As I named Heath, Hapworth s face changed. 
 
 "Heath Heath" he repeated and then quickly, 
 "Wasn t he in Italy at one time?" 
 
 "No," I said, rather surprised; "never. Why do 
 you ask?" 
 
 "And the other?" 
 
 "Oh, my cousin, Miss Euphemia Swanwick, a 
 maiden lady. You will like her. Help me to make 
 the table pretty." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 167 
 
 He exclaimed again "Heath, Heath," but of 
 a sudden became interested in the flowers. He set the 
 yellow marigolds in a central bowl and I left him 
 laying the twin flower vines around the plates. 
 
 He said, when he came out, "A woman, you said. 
 Where is she from?" 
 
 I told him, and once more he seemed to be set at 
 ease, but queried, "Is she young?" 
 
 I laughed, "About fifty." 
 
 Then he went back to his book, but I saw that now 
 and then he looked across the sea, where a light wind 
 blowing from Belport promised my new guests an 
 agreeable sail. 
 
 About five, having smudged the tents free of 
 mosquitoes, never very annoying in this wind-swept 
 space, I called Hapworth and we went to the beach 
 to meet my guests. Euphemia and the doctor were 
 set ashore. 
 
 "Mr. Hapworth," I said, "Miss Swanwick, Dr. 
 Heath, both my cousins," and with a word or two of 
 their pleasant sail, we went up to the camp, where 
 Cairns was presented. 
 
 Euphemia was, as usual, enthusiastic, and praised 
 everything. To my amusement, Hapworth took upon 
 him to show her the tents and the kitchen while I 
 set about arranging their new canvas homes. 
 
 That was a very memorable dinner. No one knew 
 better than Euphemia that the table showed refined 
 taste. "Not yours, John," she remarked. 
 
 " No, " I said. Mr. Hapworth s. 
 
168 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 A moment later, between the chowder and baked 
 lobster, I saw her put on her eyeglasses (she was 
 very near-sighted) and carefully regard Hap worth 
 and more briefly Cairns. Then she closed the glasses 
 in a conclusive and to me highly indicatory way. 
 We talked about Dodo s skill as a cook and the things 
 we were eating. Mr. Cairns said only Dodo and two 
 women he knew could broil a chicken. It must be 
 split like this one. 
 
 "It looks like the arms of Austria," said Euphe- 
 mia. 
 
 There was an omelette with clams, a salad and 
 what else I forget. The talk was lightly handled. 
 Euphemia s easier fortunes had for many years 
 set free the natural gaiety which anxieties due to 
 limited means had long repressed. She thought 
 this .plan of the cook serving the dinner had its 
 advantages. He would hear the criticisms. * But 
 after all, John, no one nowadays gives serious at 
 tention to the matter of dinner. The gourmet is 
 extinct." 
 
 Then to my surprise Hapworth, long, too long, 
 silent, said, smiling, "The gourmet in literature is 
 passing, too, the refined, critical reader, the dear 
 lover of the essay, of the little kingdom of the son 
 net so few have conquered. He is passing, the sensi 
 tive gourmet of literature. We are gourmands and 
 gorge ourselves with crude food at the newspaper 
 trough or the magazine lunch counter." 
 
 Cairns, who had scarcely spoken at all, listened, 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 169 
 
 intelligently apprehensive, an educable creature, thor 
 ough American, appreciative of opportunities long 
 denied. 
 
 I had rarely heard Hapworth speak so bitterly. 
 
 "We have no troughs here, Cousin Euphemia," I 
 said, "no literary lunch counters, not a newspaper 
 since April." 
 
 "Bless me," said my cousin. "How dreadful for 
 this little pig! I never read the politics. I dislike 
 drowning or being murdered. When I want to be 
 serious I read Punch, and for the humorous side of 
 life, the Spectator s reports of questions asked in the 
 House of Commons." 
 
 "And," I said, "she does read the deaths, Mr. 
 Hapworth. 
 
 "That," cried Heath, "is because she declares it 
 is so reassuring to find that only the people with 
 queer names die." 
 
 "It is a calumny, Mr. Hapworth." I, for my 
 part, liked her half-meant nonsense. It was a sure 
 sign of good humor and I had not felt quite secure 
 about this visit. Euphemia and the doctor, Hap 
 worth and Cairns, made a difficult social equation 
 which was being pleasantly solved. But how strange 
 to hear a man talk of the refinements of the essay 
 and the sonnet and know that he believed he had 
 murdered his wife. 
 
 As I thus reflected, Cairns, quite acceptive of Eu 
 phemia s humor, said, "Might I send for the Belport 
 8tarf" 
 
170 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Not if you value your life." said I. 
 
 "I bought a copy as we waited for Dodo," said 
 Euphemia, "but I did not know, Mr. Cairns, that I 
 was to meet the editorialised hero." 
 
 "Editorialised, Cousin ?" I said. "Thanks for an 
 addition to English." 
 
 "I assure you it was most delightful. If anyone 
 would give me such a character for my next place 
 but now you will tell me all about it. 
 
 Cairns said, "I must ask you not to insist. It 
 was of no moment. 
 
 I saw his growing embarrassment. He was think 
 ing backward. I made haste to say, "If Mr. Grice 
 was editorially amiable, Cairns, after your interview 
 he must have sunk the natural man in that singular 
 creature, the reporter, at his worst. 
 
 "I wish the mosquitoes would not be so eager 
 to interview me," said Heath. "Stir the smudge, 
 Dodo." 
 
 "Please to explain, John," insisted Euphemia, not 
 approving of my desire to change the subject. 
 
 "Ask Mr. Cairns, Cousin." 
 
 "Ah, Miss Swanwick," said Cairns, "I have 
 learned that to forgive is not equivalent to forget 
 ting. If that man praised me, I regret it. Two 
 great happinesses are teaching me to forgive." 
 
 "Entire f orgetf ulness, " said Hap worth, "would 
 make forgiveness needless." 
 
 Jleath looked up suddenly attentive, Miss Swan- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 171 
 
 wick, her glasses on, was revising her primary judg 
 ments. 
 
 "You are all very enigmatic, " she said. "Do you 
 live here in an atmosphere of mystery, with islands 
 where, my cousin writes me, no one can sleep and 
 heroic rescues no one will tell me about? Perhaps 
 you will, Mr. Hap worth ? 
 
 "I know less of it than anybody, he said shortly, 
 which was true. 
 
 "You are all of you very provoking." 
 
 Let us have our coffee on the cliff, I said, rising. 
 
 As we sat down on the rock, I threw a shawl over 
 Euphemia s shoulders, for the chill of the north was 
 more marked than usual. I could not have desired 
 a more wonder-filled night for Euphemia. It was 
 not of the kind to call out her usual small enthusi 
 asms. The sea was at rest, the moon at full and to 
 the north, in fact, from southeast to far northwest, 
 on the horizon lay a semicircle of faint luminous 
 purple, half way up to the zenith. 
 
 "My God," said Euphemia, in a low voice, "how 
 beautiful." 
 
 "A night of prayer," I heard Hapworth mutter 
 under his breath. "All nature seems at prayer." 
 
 "Thank you," said she, overhearing him, and we 
 fell to silence, for of a sudden up from the purple 
 flashed long lances of silver light and then flare of red 
 and gold banners, flame-like, swaying, quivering, as if 
 in some great wind, and then again the silver lances. 
 
172 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Hap worth was first to speak. "Do you know the 
 line, Miss Swanwick, The banners of Odin stream 
 red on the sky? The rest I forget." 
 
 "No, I do not know the verse." 
 
 Cairns was silent and merely remarked that it was 
 an unusual display. About ten o clock the high- 
 tossed lances were seen no more. The purple mound 
 became rose-red and faintly tinted the sea. We sat 
 still and saw it fade away. 
 
 "Do you have this often?" asked Euphemia. 
 
 "No," I said, "this is the first." 
 
 "Do great masses of color, red, I mean, trouble you 
 with some sense of awe?" asked Hapworth. It re 
 called my own feeling. 
 
 "Why should they?" asked Cairns. 
 
 "Oh, the why of what we call awe no man can 
 explain," returned Hapworth. 
 
 1 1 You are out of my depth, said my cousin. For 
 me that glory of rose light was simply beautiful. I 
 like it. I mean to be amused here, to be introduced 
 only to new and pleasant things and to share with 
 you all the joys of your retreat. Are you, Mr. Hap 
 worth, like my cousin, flying for a retreat from our 
 uneasy world?" 
 
 "I, Miss Swanwick?" he said, with entire self- 
 command. "I am flying from an unroofed house," 
 and then, "for two years these great lonely woods 
 have been a very welcome retreat. 
 
 "There is a far better one," said Euphemia, 
 "with more of helpfulness than the woods can give. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 173 
 
 There is but one mode of retreat of real spiritual 
 value. 
 
 Ah, Miss Swanwick," returned Hap worth, " Full 
 many are the ways that lead to God. I saw Heath 
 turn quickly and look at him. 
 
 The gravity of his quoted answer checked her re 
 ply, or seemed to. She was as usual tempted to 
 speak of her church. What she did say was, "Cer 
 tainly in such a night as this there is something like 
 an atmosphere of spiritual serenity, but I have felt 
 it elsewhere. One must feel it in cathedrals and in 
 some towns. I should breathe it, I think, in a village 
 like Nazareth." 
 
 I listened, curious at the serious trend of the talk. 
 Where would it go? Heath, never a great talker, 
 had been unusually silent. 
 
 "Talking of towns, were you ever at Assisi?" 
 asked Hapworth. 
 
 1 Never ; were you ? I envy you. 
 
 "One must be there long. I had " he hesitated. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I had a strange experience in Assisi. I was there 
 a month. One night I entered the great church. No 
 one was there. I knelt at the chancel rail. Pres 
 ently, as I stood up, I was aware of a tall, slight 
 monk in gray kneeling near by. I stood watching 
 him. After a little he rose and I followed him down 
 the nave. At the door I lost him. How, I do not 
 know. No one was in the street near by. He was 
 gone. 
 
174 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "St. Francis," murmured Euphemia, "and you 
 after that are not a Catholic." 
 
 "I am catholic," he replied. 
 
 I saw that she did not like it, and aware that she 
 was eager as usual to reply I rose and said, "In 
 this retreat we go to bed early, Euphemia. You 
 must be tired. 
 
 "I am." 
 
 We said good nights and went toward our tents. 
 
 "I shall go to see Christian to-morrow," said 
 Cairns, "and early." 
 
 "Send his wife here in the morning," I said. 
 "This way, Cousin. It is dark." 
 
 "John," she said, "I really can not go to bed 
 until I know why you wanted to know about Mr. 
 Norman. 
 
 "Hush," I said, "Mr. Norman is Hap worth." 
 
 "Good saints! John that man! here! is he sane 
 now? And here, how amazing." 
 
 "Come into my tent and we will talk, but speak 
 low." She went with me and sat down. "I came 
 here a pretty miserable man to make a fight for life. 
 I wanted quiet and a mind free of care. I found 
 a swindling agent, one Jones, who misused valuable 
 property, and three squatters my agent was not eager 
 for me to see. The Christians have been here long, 
 unprosperous people because the wife is not the hus 
 band. She will be over to see you to-morrow. We 
 will talk of this another time and of Cairns. 
 
 "Now for this man. About two years ago he came 
 
JOHX SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 175 
 
 here, paid Jones to build him a log cabin, and settled 
 down to a lonely life, a wood wanderer, befriending 
 Cairns, reading, keeping in perfect order a small 
 garden. Mrs. Christian looks after him, mends his 
 clothes, buys for him at Belport. The first month he 
 was here he found Cairns drunk. He took him to his 
 own home and kept him two months. He has never 
 taken spirits since. Cairns told him the story of his 
 having shown uncontrolled cowardice in the war. It 
 was really very bad. It had ruined a sensitive char 
 acter, lost him a fair property and an old boy-love. 
 At last drink destroyed his last chance. Jones put 
 him on my land to cut wood for him and for sale, 
 presumably rental. Hapworth has educated his very 
 competent mind and so these two miserable, self- 
 exiled men have lived, shunning all others except the 
 Christians. Of Norman s story Cairns knows noth 
 ing. Neither man came to see me, neither would. 
 I myself went to see Hapworth twice/ 
 
 Euphemia smiled, put on her glasses and said, "I 
 should have supposed you would have ordered them 
 off your land. 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 "Because you are a masterful man, used to being 
 obeyed and respected. You are changed, John, 
 curiously changed." 
 
 "Retreats are valuable, confession hateful." 
 
 "How did he seem to you when you called? Was 
 he sane?" 
 
 "Sane, I should have said, but odd and unciviL 
 
176 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Still he interested me. He would not have done 
 so a year ago. There is more, but to cut it short, 
 I was sure I had seen him at some time. It was true. 
 I recalled his name at last and how he came to my 
 works to ask help for a workman. I did not see him. 
 Then I became curious and wrote to you. At that 
 time a storm unroofed his house and very reluctantly 
 I got him to come to me for a time. You know the 
 rest. He still believes he killed his wife, or so I 
 think, but he takes more interest in life and I fancy 
 begins to doubt his delusion." 
 
 Again Euphemia looked at me with her perplexing 
 smile. "And so here is John Sherwood in charge of 
 an insane man and the queer human problem of a 
 coward who is capable of an act of astonishing self- 
 devotion. Really, John, you are an extraordinary 
 person, but what do you mean to do with these 
 pleasing companions? Both, I admit, are interest 
 ing and Norman a cultivated gentleman and that 
 poor sad wife. Have you written to her?" 
 
 "No, not yet. Cairns I shall care for. Christian 
 I have given his little farm." 
 
 "Ah, indeed." I thought her smile cynical and 
 the glasses were up. 
 
 "Of Hapworth Norman I must talk to Heath. 
 Now you should go to bed. Be careful, Euphemia, 
 about Norman his name." 
 
 "Certainly. Do you not think him dangerous?" 
 
 "I do not, and he soon leaves us. Dodo will see 
 to you. You like to breakfast in bed. Ask for what 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 177 
 
 you want. I may be away in the woods early. Good 
 night." 
 
 I went to Heath s tent to see if he had been com 
 fortably cared for by Dodo. He was awake and 
 complaining of a neuralgic headache, which, as he 
 said, was predictive of a storm. Dodo had already 
 assured me that the Aurora was a sure sign of bad 
 weather. Heath laughed at Dodo s prophecy, but 
 was certain of his own unpleasant personal capacity 
 to foretell such a change. He asked me if I had 
 seen the Belport Journal, which had amused Eu- 
 phemia by its article on Cairns. I said, I had not, 
 but presumed it would naturally have been malicious ; 
 upon which I related Cairns amiable interview 
 with the editor. He, I thought, would revenge him 
 self. 
 
 Heath said, "No, that fellow Grice will probably 
 write a cynical, discrediting article, and then tear 
 it up and obey the average editor s desire to tell 
 the truth." 
 
 I had not seen the Journal, but from Euphemia s 
 account, it was neither unkind nor malicious. Heath 
 proved to be correct in his judgment, rather to 
 Cairns disgust, who would have preferred his enemy 
 to have lied about him. 
 
 I left Heath with his headache and his reflections 
 on newspaper moralities, and went to my own tent. 
 There was still a faint remnant of the Northern 
 Lights, and although the sky was clear, a smart 
 northeast wind promised to justify both prophets of 
 
 12 
 
178 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 wet weather. I went to bed, with much to think 
 about, and I did think about it. 
 
 It was gray and foggy at dawn with a steady driz 
 zling rain. Cairns had gone. I woke up Hapworth. 
 
 Come, let us bathe and get off up the brook and 
 take some trout for my cousin s breakfast." 
 
 He was more or less, less I thought than usual, in 
 his morning mood of depression. He agreed in an 
 uninterested way. The bath with no warm after- 
 greeting from the sun seemed to rouse him. We 
 dressed and went away up the stream. I declined to 
 fish, pleading my inefficient personal equation, but 
 Hapworth had great luck. 
 
 "I am pretty wet, it is most uncomfortable," he 
 said at last. The unavoidable comic, the fool in 
 every tragedy, was here, a man with the credit of 
 murder on his soul complaining of the inconvenience 
 of being wet. 
 
 I laughed at him and said, Oh, I am soaked, too, 
 but I want to see the spring again the Earth Laugh. 
 Find me the Indian name. I mean to have the pool 
 cleared of dead leaves. They are choking the out 
 let." 
 
 "Dead leaves dead leaves," he murmured. 
 
 "Yes. Walk fast. The ducking won t hurt 
 you." 
 
 I strode away, he following after he had laid 
 the rod and fish basket on the shore. The spring 
 lost some of its gay beauty in the gray light and 
 the drip of over-laden leaves. We discussed the clear- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 179 
 
 ing of the pool and how to direct the overflow so as 
 not to leave the ground a morass. He was now so 
 lucid and intelligent, so reassuring that I came to a 
 quick resolution. I turned on him, set a hand on each 
 of his shoulders and said, "Hapworth, I have been 
 to you I have tried to be what man should be to 
 man in this wilderness. Your melancholy troubles 
 me. What can I do for you?" 
 
 1 Nothing." He remained facing me. 
 
 What is that decision which you say has re 
 lieved you?" 
 
 "To surrender myself to justice." 
 
 And now that I was in I felt that I must go on. 
 
 "But why?" I asked. 
 
 "I killed my wife in a fit of jealousy. She was 
 not innocent " 
 
 "Stop here. Not a word more. You were out 
 of your head. You were put in an asylum." 
 
 "Yes, to save me from the law." 
 
 "If you knew her to be alive and heard from her 
 and saw her, what would you think?" 
 
 "Impossible! I tell you she is dead." 
 
 "But if, as they say, you feared arrest when in 
 the asylum, why did you tell everyone you had 
 killed her?" 
 
 "That is confusing. Did I?" 
 
 "Yes. And sometimes now you are in doubt. 
 The whole thing is a wild delusion." 
 
 "Yes, for a time after I came here I was in doubt, 
 but now I know." He put up his hands and gently; 
 
180 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 freed himself from my detaining grasp of his shoul 
 ders as he added, "You are very kind, but " and 
 then abruptly, "you know my name?" 
 
 "Yes, Benedict Norman. I saw you once or twice 
 near my mills." 
 
 " I do not remember. Who told you all this ? 
 
 No matter. I want to help you. 
 
 "Help me? No man can help me. As well might 
 you be able to make these dead leaves green." 
 
 "You will not do anything rash without talking 
 further to me? I think I have earned the right to 
 ask it of you. 
 
 1 1 1 can make no promises. 
 
 "Think on what I have said. It is late. Let us 
 go back to camp." 
 
 We walked homeward silent in the thin rainfall 
 of an east wind. Of a sudden I heard him exclaim, 
 "Well, of all the queer things. How abominable!" 
 The trout were gone, the basket torn to fragments, 
 the dainty nine ounce rod broken. 
 
 "A bear," I said. "Here are Mr. Bruin s foot 
 marks. 
 
 Hapworth regarded the wreckage with so woeful 
 an aspect that I roared with laughter. He said, 
 "And such a rod, and a bluejay and rose hackle 
 gone. 
 
 "Well hooked, no doubt, in Bruin s nose. That will 
 make him scratch. Dodo will mend the rod." The 
 contrasted moods puzzled me as well they might. 
 
 It was a sorry day for eainp, but as the doctor was 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 181 
 
 now well I put him in oilers and left with him to 
 walk up to see Tom Dagett just as Mrs. Christian 
 arrived with Susan, both in hideous dark overcloaks 
 of rubber. I heard later of that visit and of Susan. 
 Hapworth went to his tent. 
 
 As we walked Heath and I talked of home things 
 and my camp life and habits and would I like to 
 have him overhaul me. I shouted, "No, no. I am 
 well and I don t believe I ever had any tubercle, but 
 you did me a vast service. I have discovered my 
 self." 
 
 c What do you mean, John ? 
 
 "Well, my dear Harry, I have learned how to 
 play. I have learned that life without steady work 
 may content a man. I have discovered that pleasure 
 may be found in giving. I used to give when Pen- 
 ryn or Euphemia wanted help for some one, but it 
 was a mere perfunctory business. I have learned to 
 find interest in men for what they are as characters, 
 human mechanisms. By George, Heath, it was worth 
 while to find what must have been the indistinct un- 
 visited background of self somehow become the fore 
 ground. The most surprising thing of it all is that 
 I am telling you all this." 
 
 "A little mixed, that metaphor," said Heath, 
 "but really, you have justified the opinion I often 
 expressed of you when " and he hesitated. "Well, 
 when men said you were a mere hard, money-making, 
 very efficient machine and would come to be like 
 Uncle Dick." 
 
182 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "That was a pleasing verdict. I 11 be blanked if 
 I know how you knew I was not what men said." 
 
 "My dear John, every fellow has a background. 
 Some never discover it, but it is part of my own pro 
 fessional business to find it and, at need, to light 
 it up helpfully. Sometimes it is a spiritual dis 
 covery, a true revelation of character. You know 
 that I am what is called orthodox and have a creed 
 of conduct by which I try to abide. It has its place 
 at times in the work of my profession." 
 
 "You are fortunate, but here is Tom Dagett, a 
 character, and by the way I have for you a more 
 difficult patient than I this man Hapworth, a strange 
 case, as you may have observed. I have purposely 
 refrained from talking about him and waited to let 
 you observe him. Your coming has been to me a 
 vast relief. We will talk about him later. I have 
 much to say. How are you, Tom ? This is my friend 
 and cousin, Dr. Heath." 
 
 "Pleased to see you. Come in. It s twiddling 
 no-account weather, neither man weather nor 
 woman weather." 
 
 "Like some people," said Heath, much amused. 
 
 "Set down," said Tom. "It s kind of fishy here. 
 I like it. It smells of luck, but some folks don t 
 like it. Susan Christian and her mother was here 
 to-day. They won t bide here a minute. Ever 
 hear them two sing? It s like bein in meetin . 
 They come through the woods singin Coronation and 
 Old Hundred. Folks call them pennyroyal Hymns," 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER, 183 
 
 " Pennyroyal!" exclaimed Heath. "Why do they 
 call them that?" 
 
 " Mother told me, but I Ve clean forgot. Fact is, 
 the sea s washed out of me a heap of things I used 
 to know. I was minded of one of her stories yester 
 day when I come out of my door and saw one of 
 them rangers pullin in. I know the man. Seem 
 me, he sheered off." 
 
 "What s a ranger?" asked Heath. 
 
 "Well, he s a no-account man, like what land 
 folks call a tramp. He cruises round in a boat and 
 steals and he s here to-day and there to-morrow." 
 
 What was your mother s story ? 
 
 "Well, when I was a boy one of them rangers up 
 from nigh Rocque Island, he come to my uncle s 
 when he was off fishin . When Uncle Bill come 
 back his wife told him what that ranger done. That 
 afternoon Bill just didn t say a word, but took to 
 his sailboat and went away. When he come back, 
 might of been a week, he told mother and no one 
 else. He hunted that man way down to Isle au 
 Haut. He found him drunk in his boat on the 
 beach. He threw the oars and the mast out of the 
 boat and shoved it off and towed it in half a gale 
 bout nine miles to sea. There he cast it off and 
 tacked round till the man s boat was all a wash and 
 he so wet he sat up and was sober like. He saw he 
 had no oars and cried out to Bill to help him. Bill 
 come nigh so the man could hear, and says he, "I m 
 Jane Simmons husband," and then he just sailed 
 
184 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 away and left him. Mother said Uncle Bill was a 
 deacon and couldn t on no account have killed the 
 man. He just left him to the justice of God." 
 
 "He made pretty sure, Tom." The touch of what 
 was for me tragic humor was not lost on Heath. 
 He said it was a strange and interesting story. 
 
 Said Tom, "Don t see as it s interestin . It s 
 true." 
 
 Pleased with the distinction, I rose, asking Tom 
 of the boat I had given his friend. 
 
 "She s fine, sir. Sails like a witch. You 11 be 
 wantin more lobsters and fish, I guess. Mrs. 
 Christian says you ve got more folks at your camp. 
 
 "Yes," I returned, "and smaller lobsters, too." 
 
 As we moved away, Heath said, "Mr. Dagett has 
 an eye on the main chance." 
 
 "I pay about double what he gets at Belport, but 
 really I do not growl. Think of the meagreness of 
 the lives of these people. I would rather give out 
 right, but" 
 
 "You do both, it seems." 
 
 "It amuses me." 
 
 "A queer name for it, you old humbug." 
 
 "Their quietly-accepted belief that I won t kick at 
 being pvercharged does amuse me, but not Dodo. 
 I am quite willing to pay for my intimacies. In 
 fact, Harry, there are in these lonely longshore peo 
 ple elements of human interest one does not meet 
 in our turmoil of town life. The comradeship of the 
 sea, and woods, and the limitations of more or 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 185 
 
 less isolated lives leave the individual more angular, 
 less smoothed, more characteristical. " 
 
 "Did you invent that word or find it here? I see 
 that to you this life and these people are interesting, 
 but you must somehow have manufactured the pleas 
 ure and then fallen in love with the product. 
 
 "That is not uncommon one sees it. A rich 
 man for some reason other than from charity makes 
 his first large gift. His self-esteem rises and he 
 goes on, decoyed by self-admiration, until the habit 
 of giving becomes an appetite of self-esteem. I was 
 weak and miserable when you discouraged my de 
 sire to come hither. Since I became well, I have 
 found my horizons enlarging. People attract me as 
 they never did except in the mass. More things in 
 terest me, the sea, the sky, the woods, the weather." 
 
 I hesitated and then added what I could have said 
 to no other man and no woman except my cousin 
 Euphemia, who would not have understood what I 
 meant. "How far, Harry, are a man s morals and 
 his relations to religious beliefs affected by his phys 
 ical state?" 
 
 "What a bewildering question. I recaU old Mr. 
 Winsted s remarking casually that when he was well 
 he was inclined to be free handed and give largely 
 to charities, but he never would give or wanted to 
 give if he was gouty. The other question I cannot 
 answer." 
 
 "I understand that. I am happy. I want others 
 to be so and, to be quite sincere, Harry, I do not want 
 
186 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 my present entire satisfaction with life to be dis 
 turbed by the want of contentment in the people 
 about me. It is a form of selfishness, I suppose. 
 
 11 The test of selfishness is that it is willing to de 
 prive others for personal ends. The quality of your 
 own form of selfishness or the shape it assumes is 
 rather rare. As my diagnosis sent you here, I ought 
 to be credited with whatever good you do." 
 
 "A doctor, who preserves lives, good or bad, 
 would have a queer moral credit account if he were 
 responsible for the after-lives of his patients. 
 
 1 Would he not. Think of it ! " 
 
 "But to return to my question, I heard you say 
 once that mere physical courage is somewhat depend 
 ent on the bodily state." 
 
 "Not quite that, but a grave wound, long lasting 
 pain, a rattling fall from a horse, a railway accident, 
 may for years deprive a man of what we agree to 
 call nerve. Just what these things do to us, the 
 explanation, is far to seek. There are lesser things 
 that disturb the balance of normal control, those 
 mysterious fears, the cat terror, the horse or dog or 
 rose smell, the sight of blood " 
 
 "Euphemia has that." 
 
 "A woman I knew acquired it on seeing a man 
 she loved die of hemorrhage. At last all reds af 
 fected her and once at a theatre on the fall of a red 
 curtain, she fainted." 
 
 How did it, or did it ever end ? 
 
 "She was a woman of high character. She went 
 
JOHN SHEKWOOD, IRONMASTER 187 
 
 at last into a hospital and served in the surgical 
 clinic until she cured the habit." 
 
 "That is interesting, but here we are. I want 
 you to observe this man Hapworth sharply, then 
 later I will tell you his story. I see Mrs. Christian 
 on the cliff with Euphemia. Let us join them. 
 Cairns has gone for a while. Hapworth is away 
 in the wood. I have set him to work chopping 
 wood for the tent stoves, for we have cold nights and 
 Euphemia is apt to be cross if she is not kept 
 warm." 
 
 "Ah," said Heath gaily, "that is another con 
 tribution to the art of preserving the minor moralities 
 by coddling the body." 
 
 The petticoats were fluttering like flags in the sea 
 wind as we came upon the three curiously con 
 trasted women. 
 
 Euphemia was in one of her enthusiastic moods 
 and was evidently on easy terms with Mrs. Christian 
 and the handsome, rosy maid, Susan, to whom I 
 duly presented my friend. 
 
 Mrs. Christian said to Dr. Heath, "So you have 
 been to see Tom Dagett. When Tom has a chance to 
 talk he makes up for lost time. The fact is, up here 
 you don t get much chance to talk. You get to be 
 silent." 
 
 "But has Tom no family?" asked Heath. 
 
 "No, his wife and children are dead and he must 
 pass days without speech." 
 
 "But his wife talked enough, mother," said Susan. 
 
188 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Christian, "do you just remem 
 ber that when you are married. Cairns, he s a 
 right silent man and you 11 be tempted. " 
 
 1 1 Oh, he can talk enough, mother. 
 
 * So it is settled, Susan, I said. 
 
 "So he says, sir." She was blushing. "I sup 
 pose he knows. He says, I do, too." 
 
 "Ah, here is Mr. Hapworth," said my cousin, 
 putting on her glasses and considering with silent 
 interest the slight form and thin delicate face of the 
 clergyman. 
 
 "We are congratulating Susan, Mr. Hapworth." 
 
 "Cairns is a fortunate man," he returned gravely. 
 
 "Well, after all," said Mrs. Christian, "marrying, 
 I tell Susan, is a kind of fishing venture. You never 
 know what kind of fish you ve hooked till you ve 
 got him in the boat." 
 
 Heath was delighted. "How then about the 
 equality of the sexes, Mrs. Christian? Between the 
 man and the fish, where is the equality ? 
 
 "Isn t any, sir. Major Browne, he says marriage 
 is a republic or ought to be, but that s bachelor wis 
 dom he s got no experience. 
 
 To my amusement, Susan said quietly, "Oh, but 
 mother, you ought to have asked him who would have 
 the casting vote between the man and the fish?" 
 
 She was gay, quick witted, and as I found then 
 and later, capable of unexpected cleverness. We 
 broke into laughter. Susan looked shyly ashamed, 
 while Heath exclaimed, "Casting vote? The chil- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 189 
 
 dren, of course," upon which Susan fell to silent 
 consideration of a hovering fish hawk. 
 
 Presently I arranged for Dodo to take Euphemia 
 and Hapworth to sail after lunch and the doctor and 
 I pleaded letters to be written. Hapworth excused 
 himself. He must pile the wood he had cut. Ev 
 idently he was unwilling to sail, and we did not urge 
 it. 
 
 We were now far on into July, with beautiful 
 weather but in the woods a fierce army of mosquitoes 
 and black flies with, worst of all, the midge, the 
 pungee of Pennsylvania, possibly its Indian name. 
 On this account, except in the early morning, the 
 forest, despite its beauty, was out of the list of en 
 joyable things for Euphemia, but she became a quite 
 fearless lover of the sea. 
 
 There was some unexpected delay about the shin 
 gles for Hapworth s roof and I felt forced to ask 
 him to remain. He so quietly settled down as a 
 guest that this easy assent added by its contrast to 
 my feeling of doubt and insecurity concerning him. 
 Then also Euphemia watched him far too much. 
 For the rest, he was a quiet, courteous gentleman, 
 subject to moody silences, or again falling at times 
 into interesting and interested talk. I had purposely 
 left Heath to make his own observations of Hap 
 worth and he, though watchful, had as yet made no 
 report. 
 
 Euphemia sailed, bothered Dodo about his cooking 
 and amused herself with Mrs. Christian, who had 
 
190 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 again a craving for books. Euphemia, after her way, 
 wrote letters, many letters, but I had declined to 
 humor her inclination for further talk about Hap- 
 worth and his wife and began to suspect her of a 
 desire to interfere in a matter which was giving me 
 thought which was presently increased in seriousness 
 by a consultation with my doctor. I was more and 
 more sure as time ran on that in my newly acquired 
 interest in my fellowmen, I was facing a human 
 problem far beyond my powers. 
 
 The story is tangled up in memory with many 
 days of joyful life, and with now and then a startling, 
 eventful talk, such as I had next day when after our 
 bath at dawn, I took Heath away into the woods on 
 pretence of visiting my spring. 
 
 He said, How still these woods are. Ah, there 
 is a squirrel at breakfast. 
 
 "Yes," I said, "he chooses always an open space 
 that no lurking enemy may surprise him unseen." 
 
 "It is curious to see you, of all men, acquiring the 
 art of minute observation of men and nature. With 
 me it is part of my professional outfit." 
 
 "I am only making use of a quality I have always 
 employed for practical purposes." 
 
 "I see." He went on up the brook in what I had 
 come to feel as the most solemn time, the day spring 
 of dawn. 
 
 Heath seemed to be sharing my unspoken thought, 
 for he said, "Oh, Jack, how wonderful!" as of a 
 sudden long lines of light flashed through the forest 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 191 
 
 maze, girdling the trees with golden light and leav 
 ing here and there untouched in shadow the trunks 
 of delicate purple. 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed, for now I led him around 
 the rocks and into the open mossy space, where the 
 vast outrush of the spring leaped into the pool. 
 Heath looked a moment at this generous constancy 
 of giving and turned to me with a faint smile of ap 
 preciative pleasure. He had a way of waiting for 
 me to say something, or that does not quite state 
 what I mean. It was a way he had of just saying, 
 "Well, John?" 
 
 I said simply what had been in my mind as he 
 spoke, "Oh, more than anything else, more than the 
 sea or the forest, this spring appeals to me as if with 
 a definite personality. As I state it, Harry, it ap 
 pears to me absurd, but it is real; an affection for a 
 gush of water ! To see it utilized, piped away would 
 give me pain." 
 
 "Well, and why?" 
 
 "Because it would destroy beauty to save some 
 man toil or to make money for him and others. 
 
 "Well, go on. You are an amazing person." 
 
 "I do not see why you say that." 
 
 "Oh, goon." 
 
 "I was about to say that a spring like this is a 
 symbol and, this is Hapworth s thought: When in 
 the ages man discovered the playmate Fancy, and 
 her statelier sister Imagination, he must have found 
 delight as in some live thing, in the wonder of this 
 
192 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 perpetual birth of purity. I made a note of it, as 
 interesting. 
 
 "And does this moody tenant of yours feed you 
 often with this kind of food?" 
 
 At times, and usually he is a pleasantly cultivated 
 man, not out of the ordinary." 
 
 "Oh, very much out of the ordinary. You have a 
 queer menagerie and really are you not unwise to 
 perplex and bother yourself and plan to help this 
 man and that?" 
 
 "You do not think so." 
 
 No, I do not, but you are to me so changed a man, 
 John, that well, the great cyclones, the earthquakes 
 of life, a great love, a great sorrow, above all the 
 recognition of but that is the kind of thing you 
 will never let me talk of and about which talk with 
 another is usually of no effect. What has come into 
 your life, I do not know. If it were a woman, I 
 could understand it, but, my dear fellow, let me say 
 that you are becoming what the American man often is 
 and dislikes to be told he is, sentimental." 
 
 I laughed outright. "Go on. You can not scare 
 me on the ground of sentiment anything else?" 
 
 "Well, Jack Sherwood, you are wholesomely spir 
 itualized. 
 
 I knew it to be true. I might not have so stated 
 it or just as he put it, but I knew that on the whole, 
 he was right. I was silent for a time, watching the 
 endless flow of the spring. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 193 
 
 "I hope," said Heath, "that you do not feel me 
 to have overstepped the modesties of friendship or 
 that I said a too intrusively intimate thing." This 
 was very like him. 
 
 "Oh, no. No, Harry. It is " I was silent. "I 
 can not define to my satisfaction some of the changes 
 in my mental attitudes. But now I want to talk 
 about Hapworth. It is hard to get a chance in the 
 camp. Let us sit here and I will ask your advice. I 
 will cut short a long story. 
 
 "Not too short." 
 
 "When I settled here this man refused to call on 
 me and made clear that I must respect his will to be 
 alone. Jones spoke of him as paying rent and as 
 eccentric. I learned later that he had helped his 
 neighbors in various ways. When a storm unroofed 
 his house I asked him to accept my camp shelter. 
 Here is his reply. I purposely brought it with me." 
 
 Heath read it. "Well, what next? It is odd 
 enough. 
 
 He accepted, as you see. I soon found that I had 
 as guest a man in occasional fear of something. 
 When I called on him earlier, I was sure I had seen 
 him at some time. At last I got it. He was a clergy 
 man who once asked help of me for a sick man. I 
 did not see him then. What he was doing here for 
 two years, why he came, interested me. I wrote to 
 ask my cousin to find out for me what she could 
 about him. His name as it came to my recollection 
 
194 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 was in fact Benedict Norman. What is the matter, 
 Heath?" I had seen a look of startled surprise. 
 "Do you know him?" I asked. 
 
 "I have never seen him before. Go on and I will 
 explain my surprise when you have done. Tell me 
 all." 
 
 "Certainly. Here is Euphemia s letter." 
 
 He read it twice with care. "Ah, the sad little 
 woman. Let me, as a doctor, consider this coldly. 
 It is a too familiar story, belief without cause in his 
 wife s being unfaithful, threat to kill her, a shot that 
 misses, delusion at last that he had killed her. He is 
 committed to an asylum, with still the firm belief of 
 being a murderer." 
 
 "Yes. It is like a mad dream." 
 . "Are not our dreams brief insanities? He tells 
 everyone what he did and yet fears arrest. It is of 
 course like the contradictions of a dream. The fear 
 of arrest drives him into escaping. How he wan 
 dered hither no one knows and now he has, or may 
 have, remorse and thinks he will surrender himself 
 to the law. Then he hesitates, is in and then out of 
 his dream, so to speak." 
 
 For a moment Heath was silent in thought and at 
 last added, "You say he has really educated that 
 clever Susan and saved from drunkenness the man 
 who did him and another human being the cruel thing 
 of saving this morbid life." 
 
 "Another, you say. What other?" 
 
 "His wife." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 195 
 
 "Oh, yes, his wife. I see." 
 
 "One gets, John, a great respect in my profession 
 for the complexities of this machine, a man. I won 
 der how many little corner closets of delusion are 
 sedulously kept locked by men whose lives seem com 
 monplace. I have known some such cases ; one of 
 them in one of the great soldiers, one in a merchant 
 of importance. Through years of the ablest competi 
 tion in large affairs, he believed in a conspiracy to 
 steal from him certain papers. It resulted in a small 
 rather tragic incident, and his delusion became 
 widely known. This man has the indecisiveness of 
 his malady." 
 
 "Let us get back to him. What course should I 
 take?" 
 
 He did not answer me, but remarked, "Euphemia 
 knows then all that you know? Be sure there was 
 more, a background." 
 
 "Perhaps but now you know all I know, Heath. 
 Oh, not quite. I brought him here one day and 
 frankly faced him with a commonsense statement of 
 his folly. I scarcely shook his belief." 
 
 "I presume not. Have you a cigarette, John? 
 Ah, I have my case. A match, please. Let me think 
 a little." 
 
 I too sat still as the light of morning illumined the 
 dim wood spaces and the endless babble of the spring 
 went on, while I sat reflecting on the words of my 
 friend. 
 
 He said at last, "I must not venture now to advise 
 
196 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 you. I wish the man*were safe in an asylum, but 
 that is not easily possible. Will Euphemia keep her 
 hands off of this case? She thinks she has missions 
 and her pursuit of this matter may be as full of peril 
 as some other missions." 
 
 "Good gracious, I will speak to her. I thought of 
 that, but forgot it for a time. You had something 
 else to say to me, or I so inferred." 
 
 "Yes. Some five years ago at Chilton Springs, I 
 fell into a circle of pleasant Maryland people. 
 Among them was an ex-Confederate general, May- 
 nard, and his daughter. He fell ill and, in taking 
 care of a very grave case, I came into easy and purely 
 friendly relation with Miss Maynard, a girl of ad 
 mirable character. After he grew better, they went 
 to Italy where they met Norman. On the general 
 again falling ill, she wrote to get from me for his 
 doctors, an earlier account of his rather obscure case. 
 Several letters were exchanged, some of which Mr. 
 Norman, who had been very attentive to the general, 
 may have seen. She married the clergyman, as I 
 heard, and her father died. I never saw Mr. Nor 
 man and neither of him nor of her have I heard a 
 word. Now these two people suddenly reappear in 
 my life. If I can help her and him, I will do it, 
 but the but is a large one the man is dangerous." 
 
 "Do you really think so?" 
 
 "Yes, I am sure." 
 
 "I suppose I dwell too hopefully on the obvious 
 pleasant qualities of the man, his courteous ways, his 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 197 
 
 intelligence, his cultivation. Mrs. Christian gave me 
 some really good verse he wrote and I picked up here 
 these lines in his writing the day after my frank 
 talk with him. How can a man be so possessed and 
 be lucid enough to write like this? I brought them 
 with me as a part of his case. Remind me to show 
 you the other verse." 
 
 "Let me see the verse you brought." He read it 
 with care. 
 
 I am a child of the earth s dark caverns, 
 
 Here to find a voice. 
 
 Out of the depths I come, 
 
 Out of the darkness flowing 1 , 
 
 Nor whence nor whither knowing. 
 
 I babble as babbles a man 
 
 With his dream of ever living 
 
 To be one with the sea of hereafter. 
 
 Sport of elemental laughter, 
 
 Rain am I, dew am I, 
 
 Born but to live and die 
 
 Into the earth anew. 
 
 "Strange enough, John. Rather better stuff than 
 some of these paranoiac cases manufacture. The 
 other verses?" 
 
 "Oh, quite different, far better." 
 
 Let us go home. Ah, the poor little lady. I shall 
 watch Norman. I wish for your sake he were not 
 here." I walked homeward troubled in mind. 
 
 The days ran on. Hapworth, as I shall continue 
 to call him, was at times silent, at times agreeably 
 
198 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 talkative and evidently found relief in his incessant 
 use of the axe. Cairns came and went, while Mike, 
 Euphemia, Heath and I sailed and fished, as the days 
 of July ran on into August. My strange guest, to 
 my embarrassment, showed no signs of desire to leave 
 my camp. In fact, his house was still uninhabitable. 
 Meanwhile, I waited upon whatever decision Heath 
 might reach, and observed that Hapworth now and 
 then stared at Heath in a way which was so notable 
 as to trouble me. 
 
 One day we were at anchor fishing off Gull Rock 
 and pulling up the cod fish with success when Eu 
 phemia said to me, "Did Christian take my letters 
 to Belport yesterday?" 
 
 "Yes/ I said, "of course. He comes for them 
 every other day. They were mailed this morning. 
 He comes for the mail in the afternoon and takes 
 it to Belport next morning." 
 
 For a few moments my cousin took no notice of 
 the obvious hints the cod were conveying through 
 her line. 
 
 "You have a bite," I said. "Quick! pull up!" 
 She was so evidently far from the practical business 
 of the hour that, knowing her well, I connected her 
 absent-mindedness with her letter. I had at once a 
 misgiving, and said, "I hope, cousin, you have not 
 been writing to Mrs. Norman?" 
 
 "I have," she said defiantly. Heath looked up. 
 "You men seem to have just let the poor wife drop. 
 It appeared to me " 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 199 
 
 " What !" said Heath. You surely have not writ 
 ten to her, Euphemia!" 
 
 "I have. As a woman I felt it to be my duty." 
 
 "The devil!" exclaimed Heath. 
 
 "You are disrespectful, Harry, impertinent." 
 
 "Cousin," I said, "you had no right to interfere. 
 What did you write ? You promised not to interfere 
 with me." 
 
 "I have not. I knew her mother long ago. While 
 you were thinking of the man, no one gave a thought 
 to the woman. If I am not free to write to whom 
 I please I will go home tomorrow." 
 
 "You can t," said I. 
 
 "How did you know," said Heath, "that no one 
 gave a thought to Mrs. Norman. Of late I have 
 thought of little else." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Euphemia, and put on her 
 glasses. "Did you ever know her, Harry?" 
 
 "Yes, I did. Years ago I met her and her father 
 at Chilton Springs, a most charming young woman." 
 He threw a large haddock into the boat, which al 
 ways singularly excited Mike. "One for me," he 
 said. 
 
 "And I," cried Euphemia, "a big one. Good 
 gracious ! " A huge, unwary lobster held on just long 
 enough to tumble over the gunwale at Euphemia s 
 feet. 
 
 " Ware ankles!" I cried, too late, as she drew 
 herself up, lost her balance and fell backwards, her 
 august petticoats in bewildering confusion, with Mike 
 
200 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 gallantly attacking the immodest lobster. Heath 
 caught the tail of the foe and set her free as 
 Euphemia screamed, for the operative procedure was 
 crude. I pulled up the not light weight of the angry 
 dame. Very red she was. Heath threw the lobster 
 into the fishbox, whither Mike pursued his vendetta 
 with disastrous consequences. Euphemia rearranged 
 her skirts. That we did not laugh, as she no doubt 
 expected, must I think, go to our credit on the books 
 of some recording social angel. 
 
 She searched in vain for her glasses and failing 
 turned upon Heath. "When you allowed this dis 
 graceful accident to occur, Harry, I was about to 
 state that I merely wrote to Mrs. Norman that some 
 thing had been heard of her husband. It will re 
 lieve her mind until " 
 
 "Just a moment, Cousin," I said. "Did you say 
 where you were, or mention my name ? ? 
 
 "I did not mention you. I did not give your ad 
 dress. Do you think I am a fool, John Sherwood ?" 
 
 "What paper did you use?" t 
 
 "Your camp paper, of course, but," triumphantly, 
 "I inked out the heading Camp Betreat. There!" 
 
 "But," said Heath, "it was mailed at Belport, I 
 suppose ? ? 
 
 "Of course. Where else could it be mailed?" 
 
 1 The woman is no fool, said Heath. She is sure 
 to find us." I glanced at Heath as Euphemia felt 
 again for her too helpful lost glasses, but made no 
 comment. We were silent. The cod were biting. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 201 
 
 "My foot hurts me, John. I hope I shall not be 
 poisoned, Harry. I must go home at once ; at once. 
 
 I pulled up the killick and set sail. Everybody, 
 including Mike, seemed to be indisposed to talk. "We 
 were soon in camp. Mike retired to Dodo for sym 
 pathy and Cousin Euphemia went limping on 
 Heath s arm to her tent. She was very cross when 
 I explained to her more fully that she had made it 
 easy for Mrs. Norman to find us and Norman. She 
 refused to admit it, but promised not to send a sec 
 ond letter. 
 
 "You see, John, I meant to break it to her by de 
 grees. If you had consulted me and come to some 
 decision " 
 
 "Good heavens, Cousin, what was there to decide? 
 As soon as we do come to a decision, we will take 
 some distinct action." 
 
 "I think Harry makes too much of the case. I 
 have no doubt this man was once insane, now he has 
 moods, to be sure, but really who can see that he is 
 other than just a man with a sad past? I wash my 
 hands of the whole business. I wish you would ask 
 Harry to attend to my foot." 
 
 The doctor came at my call and told her what 
 was true and restored her good humor, that she had 
 a ridiculously small foot and perfect, and that the 
 lobster had left nothing worse than a bruise. Her 
 imprudence left with us an added anxiety. 
 
 As usual we made some change of dress for dinner 
 for in a camp one is apt to get into lazy ways. Hap- 
 
202 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 worth was always in simple gray and Euphemia in 
 some plain dinner dress. As we waited for her and 
 Hapworth I said to Heath, Keep Euphemia in a good 
 humor to-day. We have not done with her but no 
 more letters shall go. I will see to that. She will 
 find some excuse to write to someone if not to Mrs. 
 Norman. I can not rob all her mail." 
 
 I remember how pretty was the tent that evening 
 at the dinner hour with the candles sheltered from 
 draughts by the tall old-time glass screens Dodo had 
 brought with him. The smallness of this white- 
 walled dining-room seemed to bring us into social 
 nearness. 
 
 Hapworth, who was always latest and usually able 
 to offer some pleasant excuse, sat down without a 
 word. It was serious to me that a man clearly well 
 bred could so easily accept my hospitality and now 
 and then forget the habitual courtesies of life. I 
 observed in him what Heath said was common to the 
 morbidly absent-minded, that there is little guard 
 kept on the features. He said further, what struck 
 me as interesting, that normally acquired success in 
 governing visible display of feeling was a great safe 
 guard against yielding to a sudden storm of emo 
 tion and even to prolonged moods. I saw now, as 
 Hapworth sat down, that he had again the occasional 
 look of watchful suspicion. 
 
 Cousin Euphemia was in high spirits. Her ways 
 were difficult to predict or explain. 
 
 "I am entirely well, Dr. Heath," she said. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 203 
 
 "That poor lobster," I said. "Why should the in- 
 nocent suffer?" 
 
 "If you dare, John!" 
 
 "How did you do it, Harry, this sudden cure?" 
 
 "Oh, I quoted for a charm the only verse in Eng 
 lish about the lobster. 
 
 " Hudibras-Butler, " said Hapworth without look 
 ing up. 
 
 "Suppose we drop a very disagreeable subject," re 
 joined Euphemia in her conclusive way, just as Dodo, 
 entering, said. "Lobster chowder, Miss Phemy." 
 We all laughed, of course, except my sober guest. 
 
 "Are you morally capable of devouring your en 
 emy?" cried Heath. 
 
 "I never eat it! It disagrees with me." 
 
 "It seems to me," I said, "that you began the 
 disagreement by cultivating a perilous acquaintance. 
 You might keep up the vendetta." 
 
 "I never eat it, Harry. I consider it suicidal." 
 
 "That becomes serious," laughed Heath. 
 
 "Life," said Hapworth, "is one prolonged suicide, 
 moral and physical. Day by day we reinforce de 
 cay." 
 
 Heath glanced at the set sad face and Euphemia 
 felt for her lost glasses. 
 
 "I take pity on you, Cousin," I said quickly. 
 "Dodo found your pince-nez in the boat." 
 
 Your terrible summary of life, remarked Heath, 
 
 has been said, Mr. Hapworth, in many ways. Noth 
 ing is original. I doubt even original sin." 
 
204 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "At least Cain was original," said Hap worth. 
 * He invented murder. I saw a look of horror come 
 over Euphemia s face. 
 
 "We are not very gay," I said. 
 
 "Gay!" murmured Hapworth. He appeared to be 
 lost to all around him, self-absorbed. 
 
 Heath looked uneasy and said, "We need that lob 
 ster again." 
 
 "Harry!" exclaimed Euphemia. 
 
 We laughed, and eager to shift the talk, I said, 
 "Well, we won t tell it at home. Was Mrs. Chris 
 tian here yesterday, Cousin?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," she returned, pleased to be on firmer 
 ground. "She asked me to go to church to-day, 
 which is, I believe, Sunday. Time seems to have quite 
 forgotten us here. I told her there was no Church at 
 Belport and that I was a Catholic." Euphemia 
 cleverly rendered Mrs. Christian s amazement. 
 " Well, now, I never, and you re a Romanist! I 
 tried to explain that there was only one church." 
 
 "I should like to have heard that preachment. 
 What did she say?" 
 
 Euphemia hesitated. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "She did say, The Churches, I do hear, have too 
 many trimmings. I don t go with that. Didn t 
 Christ say, Where two or three are gathered together 
 there I am? There don t seem to be anything more 
 needed. " 
 
 "In My name," added Hapworth. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 205 
 
 "Yes," said Euphemia. "I told her what that 
 really meant and then I asked her what her sect was. 
 She said, Baptist, and you just ought to hear our 
 preacher. He s good and long, but we pick wild 
 caraway seed and chew it. That does keep you 
 awake. Most all the old women chew caraway in 
 meeting. Think of that, John. I shall try it on you, 
 when you talk science to Harry." 
 
 Hapworth alone remained unamused and now look 
 ing up, said, "When two or three are gathered to 
 gether. What two or three? Any two or three? 
 Judas, Nero, Pontius Pilate?" 
 
 "In His name? Hardly," said Heath gravely. 
 Hapworth made no reply. * 
 
 Euphemia looked the annoyance she felt. With all 
 my charity for an insane man whose society I had 
 courted, I felt concerned about what these reminding 
 outbreaks of ingenious eccentricity of thought must 
 inflict on Euphemia. I saw her lips move slightly 
 and that she crossed herself, as I said, "I think 
 Heath has answered you, Hapworth." 
 
 He flushed slightly and with recovery of his en 
 tirely courteous way, said, "You must pardon me, 
 Miss Swanwick," and then looking down as if in 
 soliloquy, "the wind of thought bloweth where it 
 listeth." 
 
 "And the tongue," laughed Heath, "is its weather 
 cock. Thanks for that chance, Mr. Hapworth." 
 
 Hapworth made no comment and Euphemia broke 
 the next moment of silence in an awkward effort to 
 
206 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 deal with a disagreeable situation. "I forgot to tell 
 you a delightful story and I really must. 7 
 
 1 Let us have it," I said, pleased at any relief. 
 
 "It was apropos of Dodo, who had not blacked 
 my walking-boots because the blacking was all used 
 and none to be had in Belport. 
 
 She was presently my amusingly humorous Mrs. 
 Christian, "My Peter has gifts as a hearer. He 
 does rest his tongue a good deal." 
 
 "He may have acquired the habit," said Heath, 
 "through the tyranny of domestic circumstances." 
 
 "That," I said, "is Tom Dagett s view of the case. 
 Tom says, Christian and his wife s like the sea and 
 me. Mrs. Sea does all the talk and I ve got not to 
 answer back. : 
 
 "If," said Euphemia, "you interrupt my conver 
 sation with Mrs. Christian, I but, by the way, what 
 is what they call here her spoken name? I was de 
 sired to use it, but then she was carried away on a 
 flood of praise of Mr. Sherwood and forgot to tell me. 
 She says you " 
 
 "You may leave me out, Euphemia. Her name, if 
 you please, is Caressa." 
 
 "Not really?" cried Heath. These names that 
 commit the baby to impossible attainments may be 
 rather cruel. 
 
 "She is still very handsome," said Euphemia 
 meditatively. 
 
 We laughed and my cousin said, "I do not see 
 that I said anything amusing. Am I to have the 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 207 
 
 floor or not?" Again she was Mrs. Christian. 
 "You see, Miss Euphemia Now that is a queer 
 name, yours, isn t it? I had just to keep saying it 
 to keep it in mind. When we came here nigh on to 
 twenty years ago a man from New York was here 
 about some land titles and he boarded with us a 
 week. Lord, the brushes and things he had. After 
 three days he says to Peter, I put out my boots three 
 nights and no one has touched them. 
 
 " Well, says Peter, we re honest up here. 
 Why, you might of put out your watch and no one 
 would have touched it. Then that man explained and 
 John said he d attend to it and next day those boots 
 were right well greased with axle grease like Peter s. 
 You ought to have seen that man." We all laughed 
 but Hapworth, who was evidently far away in 
 thought. 
 
 Nevertheless, I felt that Euphemia had helped us. 
 
 * * I saw, said Heath, that you lent her the Imita 
 tion of Christ. What did she say of it? She is apt 
 to have some unusual critical comment on books." 
 
 "You may well call this one unusual, Harry. 
 She said, Now that book is just lovely and child 
 like. Guess it didn t take much trouble to write. 
 Couldn t say I liked it. I don t like imitations. " 
 
 "What did you say?" asked Hapworth, again in 
 terested. 
 
 "That you will never know," returned my cousin. 
 
 I said, rising, "Coffee, Euphemia?" 
 
 "No. I am for bed. Good night." 
 
203 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I left Heath with his segar in my day tent, which 
 I may not have said, was used on account of its large 
 size for meals when my camp party increased in num 
 ber. To the right of it was my night tent and beyond 
 it, Hap worth s. To left Heath was lodged and 
 Euphemia beyond him. 
 
 The darkening night promised the easter Dodo con 
 fidently predicted. I went with Euphemia to her 
 tent, as was my custom at night, while Hapworth 
 went out on the rock and stood looking at the uneasy 
 sea. 
 
 Said Euphemia, " John, I am afraid I can not stand 
 this any longer. You are very much to be blamed 
 for not telling me beforehand not to write to " 
 
 Hush ! " I said. l Be careful. 
 
 4 Well, to her." 
 
 This was, as Heath liked to say, Euphemial. 
 
 "My dear Cousin, really " 
 
 "I wish to explain " on which I cried, "Good 
 night," and fled, laughing. 
 
 As I was about to rejoin Heath, Hapworth came 
 from the rock and said, "May I say a few words to 
 you?" 
 
 I went with him where to my surprise he led me 
 far into the wood. Here he turned towards me. "I 
 am going early to-morrow to my house to put things 
 in order. I shall come over in the afternoon to say 
 good-bye. I have been too long an intruder on your 
 hospitality. I am going on Tuesday to Baltimore to 
 give myself up. I do not wish to be misunderstood, 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 209 
 
 at least by you. I was right to kill her. And the 
 man, I know. He thinks no one knows that man." 
 Leaning towards me, he hissed a word between his 
 teeth, Heath, he too must die. Heath, curse him ! 
 
 Nothing in life thus far so affected me as this 
 sudden outburst of homicidal intention. "Heath?" 
 I said, "Nonsense! If you dare to use my cousin s 
 name in connection with this insane delusion, I assure 
 you, sir, you will get into trouble. Neither he nor 
 I are very patient men. You had better be careful." 
 
 He looked about him with sudden timidity and ex 
 claimed, to my amazement, "Do you think so?" He 
 was like a scared child. 
 
 Yes, I do, and as for Mrs. Norman, you are cruelly 
 deluded. Heath and she never met after she went 
 to Europe." 
 
 "Ah, but there were letters, letters, and, my God, 
 before, before we married, proof of their guilt, damn 
 ing proof." He spoke with the earnestness of abso 
 lute belief. 
 
 I said, "Don t you dare to talk that way of my 
 cousin. "What nonsense ! 
 
 "No, it is true! It is horribly true. She has paid 
 the penalty of her sin and his sin. She is dead." 
 Then he paused and looked around him in the dark 
 wood shadows. I, too, was silent until he added, He 
 is alive and she is dead. You don t know about it 
 about these two. I do I have proof." 
 
 " Proof," I cried. "What of? Nonsense!" I 
 was at the end of my patience. 
 14 
 
210 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 He became of a sudden quietly earnest. "I want 
 you to believe me. Of course, you don t know as I 
 do. There are ways, things, voices you cannot hear, 
 by day and by night telling me what to do." He 
 turned without a word more and left me standing 
 in the forest, an astounded man, unconscious of a 
 sudden patter of heavy rain on the tents behind me 
 and the roar of the rock-beaten surf. A moment 
 later I followed him slowly. For the time I had 
 been appalled. Now I reflected on the childish sim 
 plicity of this abrupt revelation of an intention 
 to kill made to the man most likely to thwart it. 
 I had had a look into the terrible abyss of an in 
 sane mind. I quickened my pace. Hapworth had 
 disappeared. 
 
 I went into the dinner tent where the threatened 
 man was writing a letter. "Come into your own 
 tent, Heath." He followed me. 
 
 Heath looked at me. "What s up, John?" 
 
 I told him frankly what Hapworth had said. He 
 took this amazing charge of adultery and the threat 
 of murder with tranquillity not shared by me. I 
 presume that I made my anger plain to him for, after 
 hearing me quietly, he said, "John, this is not a mat 
 ter for anger. I told you this man was dangerous. 
 I could not predict how he would break out. Cer 
 tainly the charge against this innocent young wife 
 is the worst of his madness. You must have known 
 her to understand what she has surely suffered." 
 
 "I am sorry for her," I said. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 211 
 
 4 And for him," returned Heath, "for him." 
 
 "Can you explain his delusion in any way, its 
 origin, I mean ? 
 
 "Sometimes we can trace a delusion back to an 
 apparently inadequate cause, or, as here, we can find 
 nothing to explain it, and you can not predict what 
 he may do. A man like Norman may seem to the 
 every day layman rational and to-morrow he stops 
 some stranger and says, You called me a bastard/ 
 and shoots him. These men are as dangerous as a 
 stick of dynamite in the hands of a boy. I sent to 
 the Italian physician, at Miss Maynard s request, an 
 inclosure about General Maynard s case. As I recall 
 it two or three letters passed. Then she married and 
 I received a very curt note from Mr. Norman asking 
 me to correspond in the future with the physician 
 under cover to him, Norman. I thought it rude and 
 very singular. Now I see that it may have marked 
 the beginning of his delusion. We have come to the 
 explosive consequences. I told you, I think, of my 
 acquaintance with the young woman, but not of Nor 
 man s letter." 
 
 "Well, he is going away. I am sure of that. It 
 is a relief to get rid of him. How it is raining ! " I 
 was becoming more and more uneasy. 
 
 "Yes, he says he is going, but he has not gone. 
 I hope he will not change his mind. In Baltimore 
 he would at once be put back in the asylum. My 
 fear, John, my deadly fear has been of Mrs. Nor 
 man s coming or of their meeting elsewhere. I am 
 
212 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 sure that she will come soon or late. Pray God it be 
 late, and after he has gone. Confound Euphemia! 
 She may have made terrible mischief." 
 
 "I am sure he will go, Harry, and this storm will 
 prevent any one coming from Belport for two days 
 or more." 
 
 "You can t be sure of his going. You can be sure 
 of nothing in regard to Norman except that he is 
 just now as deadly as a cobra. The storm is a wel 
 come friend. I understand my own danger. It is 
 perhaps great. You or any one might have been 
 the chosen victim. He has now or may develop at 
 any moment a wild homicidal tendency, but I do not 
 mean to take any madman risks unprepared. I shall 
 be on my guard while he is here. Have no uneasi 
 ness about me." 
 
 "But I have, and shall have, until he is gone. 
 Why not sleep in my tent to-night? I shall feel 
 easier. 
 
 He stood for a moment in thought and then re 
 turned: "You may be right." He took down a re 
 volver, threw in loads, picked up his blankets and 
 hastily followed me to my tent through a fury of 
 wind-driven rain. We sat down for a while and 
 smoked in silence. At last he said, "I have given 
 you just now the impression that I would kill this 
 madman if it became a question of his life or mine. 
 I should not have even thought it." He put the re 
 volver on my table. "I would take many risks 
 rather than hurt that poor fool. He has no arms?" 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 213 
 
 I think not, but I can not be sure, Harry. 
 
 "Well, he is a feeble little man and if he is un 
 armed he is hardly to be feared. Listen to the 
 wind!" He threw open the tied tent front and 
 looked out. "What a pretty effect!" 
 
 Dodo s care provided at night a large head-light 
 lantern fastened to my red oak. What now pleased 
 Heath was the flash of flitting gold as the large rain 
 drops passed through the brilliant cone of the lan 
 tern s illumination. As he closed the canvas he said, 
 "There s a light in Hap worth s tent." 
 
 "He often reads half the night," I said. 
 
 "What does he read?" 
 
 "All manner of books. Mrs. Christian says mostly 
 on Sundays Revelation, on which she remarked with 
 irreverent comment that it don t seem so very reveal 
 ing." 
 
 Again Heath looked out. "What a wild night. 
 How the tent shivers! He must be in bed. His 
 light s out." He reclosed the canvas and filled his 
 pipe. "Match, please." 
 
 "It is time we were in bed." 
 
 "Not I, John." The evident uneasiness of a man 
 whose courage I once saw tested when he stopped 
 a runaway pair of horses infected me with like dis 
 trust of my demented guest. I tacitly signalled my 
 acceptance of Heath s unwillingness by filling the 
 pipe I had just emptied and we sat down again, while 
 the canvas flapped and the rain hummed anew on the 
 over-cover of the tent. 
 
214 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I never have seen Heath as I saw him that night. 
 At last he said, "Why the deuce don t you talk. 
 You think I am anxious? I am, and I shall be until 
 this maniac is disposed of and his wife safe. I have 
 handled too many human explosives to feel easy just 
 now." He walked about the limited tent room, talk 
 ing. He was impatient. "I wish Euphemia were 
 not here/ 
 
 I tried to talk trifles, of our boy days, and recalled 
 that famous iceboat. It did not succeed. He an 
 swered in monosyllables. At last I said, "I think 
 we are hoodooed." He laughed and I fell back, as 
 was inevitable, on talk of the man who was to be 
 pitied and feared. 
 
 "Is it, Harry, that this man was born doomed to 
 this miserable insanity? Could he have saved him 
 self? Is there, was there any physical and mental 
 self-insurance possible, any predictive signs in his 
 youth?" 
 
 "I do not know. Give me the boy, the lad, his 
 surroundings and ancestry and I might guess or 
 might not, probably could not. When did you be 
 gin to tackle such questions, you of all men?" 
 
 "It grew out of personal interests and thought of 
 this unlucky fellow. Since my own illness I have 
 speculated in the freedom of ignorance as to why 
 some people live to be old and in constant health of 
 mind and body. What physical insurance was there 
 on which, for instance, I failed to pay the premiums ? 
 
 Harry laughed. "To live to be old and yet effi- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 215 
 
 cient? The receipt is, Have a talent for living and 
 don t bury it. " 
 
 "Oh, but seriously, Harry." 
 
 "Go on, Doctor," rejoined Heath, smiling. 
 
 "Well, if we knew all of a man at birth, all you 
 mention, could we not foresee at least his physical 
 failure as life went on?" 
 
 * How could we know all 1 Your if is a large one. 
 To follow on with your speculation, it may be that in 
 some men from birth there waits a material fate in 
 the organs, or in some one organ of the body, like 
 an actor behind the scenes, ready to take his tragic 
 part in the drama called life. Any clever M. D. could 
 have foretold that disease would attack you soon or 
 late. There is a text of St. Paul on which many 
 medical sermons could be preached. He was more 
 largely wise than he knew, which may define genius. 
 
 "As usual, Harry, you are getting out of my depth 
 and I do not read St. Paul." 
 
 "And yet you like the essayists!" 
 
 "St. Paul an essayist! Well, really" 
 
 "Yes, but look up the text or, not to bother you, 
 it is, The head cannot say to the feet, I have no 
 need of thee. " 
 
 "That is clear enough and now I understand and 
 can preach the sermon for myself." 
 
 "Yes. You did need it once, not now." 
 
 "You were rather too medically mystical for me. 
 It might please Euphemia." 
 
 "No, she would not like it at all. Talk of disease 
 
216 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 or death scares her. I did not mean to be mystical. 
 We are only trying to reason from rather misty 
 premises. 
 
 "Then let us go to bed and dream answers. I said 
 bed, but I do not mean it. We must one of us be 
 on guard to-night. You will watch. Call me at two. 
 Hark, there goes Dodo s clock. It is twelve. You 
 will surely call me at two." 
 
 "I will. Bon voyage on the ocean of sleep." He 
 blew out the candle. I lay down dressed but re 
 mained wide awake. At two he did call me with a 
 touch on my arm. 
 
 "What is it?" I sat up. 
 
 "Nothing. I suppose I am possessed to-night. 
 We will laugh over it to-morrow. Wake me at dawn 
 for a dip in the sea." He threw himself on the 
 lounge, saying good night, and slept as I had not 
 done. 
 
 I did not lie down but sat in the darkness thinking 
 over my past life and the tragic possibilities of Mrs. 
 Norman s too probable visit and then of Norman s 
 wild decision; and after he left, what then? About 
 three the patter of rain on the tent ceased. As I was 
 intensely on guard I thought I heard some movement 
 in the stillness of the now quiet night. I rose and 
 looking through the interspace of the tent folds saw 
 Hapworth, fully dressed, crossing the cone of light 
 from the lantern. He looked about him and as he 
 moved I saw, to my horror, the light flash from a 
 wood axe he carried. He passed me and, putting my 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 217 
 
 head out, I saw him open the canvas of Heath s tent 
 and disappear. I picked up the revolver and quickly 
 returned to my watch. My fear was now for 
 Euphemia and I released the tent ties. I was to be 
 ready in case of need. He came out, stood a moment 
 as if bewildered, made a step or two towards my 
 Cousin Euphemia s tent and then threw down the 
 axe and went slowly back to his own tent. 
 
 Before dawn I heard Hapworth moving. He was 
 gone when I wakened Heath. "All right," I said, 
 "but wait a moment." I went to Dodo s tent and 
 called him. I said, "Be busy about the front of the 
 tents until I come back, and do not leave them a 
 moment. 
 
 "Yes, sir." Dodo asked no questions when given 
 an order. 
 
 "Come, Harry," I said. "The surf is glorious. 
 What a grand sea! Come out to the cliff before we 
 bathe." 
 
 It was in fact what Dodo called a Sunday sea. 
 Why, he did not know. It was perhaps picked up 
 in the Navy. It meant, and that was plain, a boister 
 ous sea, very splendid as we saw it in the rose glow 
 of the morning light. Swift currents and the per 
 plexing tideway of the bay made huge disorderly 
 billows which met wind-winged ranks of charging 
 waves. I had never before seen this. The two armies 
 of tormented waters crashed together and tumbled 
 and met again and again and rolled in on the rocks 
 thunderous with at last a shower of spray which an- 
 
218 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 swered all the purposes of a morning bath. We fled 
 laughing to the tents. 
 
 "What fool man left that axe out here to get 
 rusty?" said Dodo. 
 
 You might have forgotten it," I said. 
 
 He took me seriously. "No, sir. That s Mr. Hap- 
 worth s axe. He went away before you was up. He 
 took one of his bags, said he d be back to-night for 
 the other. Didn t want any help when I said I d 
 carry his dunnage." 
 
 "Did he say just when he would return?" 
 
 "No, sir. He s crazy, that man. I m glad he s 
 going. After dressing, we went again on to the rock, 
 keeping a more respectful distance, and watched the 
 ever-fascinating spectacle of a storm-driven ocean. 
 
 "There will be no Mrs. Norman here to-day," said 
 Heath. 
 
 "No. And I trust not to-morrow, in fact, not at 
 all, I hope. Even a man would not care to sail over 
 here in that sea." 
 
 "She will come," he said confidently, "but some 
 thing has delayed her. Could she drive up and walk 
 through the woods?" 
 
 "No, no," I said, "hardly. Come in before break 
 fast. I must go and get my sleep. I had none last 
 night." 
 
 Euphemia rarely appeared at breakfast. Just now 
 she was presumably engaged in what she called 
 her morning meditations. They were audible at 
 times, but to me at least incomprehensible. Then I 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 219 
 
 had my delayed chance of telling Heath my rather 
 grim story of the night. He took it very quietly. 
 
 "Your insisting on my sharing your tent probably 
 saved my life. I wish we were surely rid of that 
 man. If after he has left, Mrs. Norman should come, 
 we must keep her. Somehow we must keep them 
 apart until he is in some way cared for." 
 
 1 We will keep her, I said. I saw and shared his 
 anxiety and felt relieved that we might not have to 
 meet the consequences of Euphemia s meddling. 
 
 The day was clear, with a norther still blowing 
 wholesome with the freshness of the snowy northland, 
 a great roaring Viking wind. This morning Eu- 
 phemia appeared at breakfast. You never could tell 
 what she would do. 
 
 "Another plate, Dodo," I said. 
 
 "The chipmonks were holding a riotous camp- 
 meeting on my tent last night," said my cousin. 
 
 l That is unusual on these stirring nights. 
 
 1 Thought you had a fancy for monks, said Heath. 
 
 "That is a very meagre joke, Harry, and imperti 
 nent!" 
 
 "I like meagre jests, Cousin." They played a gay 
 game of small talk, everyone feeling the uplift of the 
 dry north wind and the absence of Norman. 
 
 No sailing was desirable for man or woman ; but the 
 surf was of a never-ending, changeful splendor as the 
 tide grew to full of flood. Euphemia was never 
 bored, and needed no attention. The day wore on 
 with the usual routine until after lunch, when Mrs. 
 
20 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Christian appeared, about four o clock, with wild 
 strawberries, and Euphemia took her away at once 
 to her tent for a talk I would have liked to have 
 heard. 
 
 Heath and I lingered in the dining tent, lazily 
 smoking, and at last I said, "Did it ever occur to 
 you that Cousin Euphemia has at present her usual 
 confident hopes of a convert?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, John. It is a favorite game with the 
 cousin and she plays it badly but she plays it." 
 
 "I suppose, Harry, you know nothing of what took 
 Euphemia away from the church of our own people ? 
 
 "No, I, of course, know nothing. It was long be 
 fore I came to the city. It made a needless row in 
 the family." 
 
 I said, after a moment s reflection, "She would be 
 a good woman in any church. What captured her 
 was the mystical. The more of it the better, and yet 
 the simplest belief is hard enough for some of us. 
 When century after century added more mysteries 
 to the simplicities of an earlier day they found some 
 appetite in man for that which the few found hard 
 to digest. Some nations have found it so." 
 
 Heath, as I went on speaking, looked at me with 
 increasing attention. I ceased, aware that I was on 
 ground we had never moved over together. 
 
 He said, as I pondered, "Well, well, Jack?" which 
 in fact is interrogative, although no dictionary says 
 so. 
 
 "I was about to say that it is explained by the fact 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 221 
 
 that Euphemia s early friends were among the 
 emigres Catholic French, to one of whom she went to 
 school. Some people drift through life, some people 
 sail or are towed. Euphemia drifts." 
 
 "Or now and then steams," laughed Heath. 
 
 "Euphemia drifts, now and then she sails a little 
 and very rarely steams." 
 
 "What you say of her as fascinated by the mystical 
 is true. She has tentacles of eager faith out in loving 
 search of the mystical. Did you notice how at once 
 she accepted the less obvious explanation of poor Nor 
 man s day dream at Assisi?" 
 
 "Yes, it was she who said it was St. Francis and 
 in her really childlike way that it ought to make 
 Norman a Catholic." 
 
 "She got her answer," said Heath. "As one sees 
 the religious movements of the day nothing is more 
 surprising to men at anchor than the continuous 
 drifts from sect to sect, to and fro, and, as I said, 
 our cousin drifted and is amazed that others cannot. 
 
 "But," I returned, "more wonderful to me are the 
 single text sects or in the greater churches, the idol 
 atry of forms. One may like them but they can 
 never be for me essentials. They are for some men. 
 Over them all rises the peasant Christ, from whose 
 divine simplicities were born as the ages ran on these 
 myriad-minded ways of interpreting Him. 
 
 "Go on," said Heath. 
 
 "No," -I said, rising. "This is matter for talk at 
 night when no sunshine invites the mind to lazily 
 
222 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 loiter. You may be at ease," I cried laughing, 
 "about Mrs. Christian; not John Knox were more 
 easy to convert and we are secure too of Mrs. Nor 
 man s absence. Few men and no woman would care 
 to cross that sea to-day. But wait a moment." I 
 called Dodo. "We are going to see Dagett," I said. 
 "Keep to the camp while we are away and if Mr. 
 Hapworth returns, be watchful." Dodo expressed 
 no surprise. "You understand me?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Would you rather not leave the camp, Harry?" 
 I said. 
 
 "Why not? We shall be back in an hour. Come, 
 John." 
 
 We went away up the beach for a time in silence. 
 As we paused to look at an unusually lofty billow, 
 the spray rainbow-crowned, Harry said, gravely, "In 
 all the years I have known you and often as we 
 have talked, never before have we got on to the sub 
 ject of religions." 
 
 "No, Harry. Men rarely talk of it. I, least of 
 all, have been so minded." 
 
 "But you think of it, John?" 
 
 "Yes. Here, of late often. I suppose, Harry, 
 that men do not talk of this most eminent of life s 
 affairs because take care, what a wall of water!" 
 We ran up the the beach, salt sprayed. 
 
 "Well, go on, John." 
 
 "No," I said, "another time," 
 
 "I am sorry." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 223 
 
 The sea was talking enough for me. At last Heath 
 said : 
 
 "I wanted to hear more. You know, John, that 
 even between life-long friends there are personal 
 boundaries which sensitive men hesitate to cross. 
 They are guarded by good manners or by some del 
 icately-felt convictions that there are subjects so 
 sacred that silence is best unless the other man in 
 vites speech." 
 
 A little wondering what he meant, I said, "What 
 do you mean not only about religion?" 
 
 "No, nor creeds. I mean that just this has hap 
 pened. In all these years of hundreds of talks, this 
 serious side of you I have never seen. So far, my 
 dear John, you are new to me, surprisingly new. I 
 realize that you are for me another you than you 
 were. To know wholly a man you have loved is worth 
 much, even through disasters, calamities, whatever 
 justified the respect, held beforehand with earth s 
 imperfect knowledge. Not often, John, does a man 
 attain in this world these realizations in all their 
 fullness. In some other world husband and wife, 
 brothers, friends, may say, here at last is the soul 
 we never knew." 
 
 "There will be some queer surprises, Harry," I 
 smiled. "One might not recognize that other you. 
 How appalling or how relieving to have the privilege 
 of such recognition or not. 
 
 "Now don t be cynical," he returned. "I was se- 
 
224 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Were you, indeed. I was reflecting that I had 
 as to this matter the better of you in advanced 
 knowledge of a man I have known so long." 
 
 Thanks, I could answer you, but, ah, here we are, 
 and what a handsome young woman!" She had 
 just come out of the cabin with Tom and a boy 
 six or seven years old and was carrying a pail of 
 lobsters. I spoke to her and stopped to pet the child 
 and empty my pockets of pennies, shyly accepted. 
 They went away along the beach. 
 
 "We went in and sat down. "Who," I asked, "is 
 that girl, Tom?" 
 
 "Oh, she s Spruce Holloway s girl. He s dead. 
 That s her child the boy. If Spruce had a been 
 alive, there d of been a buckshot marriage." 
 
 "A buckshot marriage?" queried Heath. "Oh, I 
 see." 
 
 1 Yes, he d of made the man marry her. He went 
 west, that man the child s father, I mean." 
 
 "Pitiful indeed, "said I. 
 
 "Down this way," said Tom, "we call them there 
 girls broken wings." 
 
 "That is pathetic," said Heath. "Is it common?" 
 
 "Not nowadays. Used to be. Nice girl, too, but 
 she 11 get a man to marry sometime. There s one 
 keep in company now, I do hear. Fact is, she s a 
 real good cook. Can t get a girl married hereabouts 
 unless she can cook." 
 
 "I should think you would need a cook yourself," 
 said Heath. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER , 225 
 
 "When a man can cook for himself what s the 
 use of two cooks. Everybody, specially the women, 
 gives me that kind of advice. You ain t tried it, 
 I hear. I have. The fact is, a man s life s always 
 a leaky boat. Come to put two in it, it leaks worse. 
 The sea s wife enough for me. Where s that man 
 Hap worth? Hear he s goin away. He s a real 
 loony, that man; can t even handle a dory of a calm 
 day." 
 
 Heath said that was conclusive and, much amused, 
 humored Dagett s abrupt changes of the subjects of 
 talk, plying the old fisherman with questions. I 
 heard only bits of their chat. My mind was on the 
 woman and the little fellow who followed her along 
 the shore or stopped to fling stones at the beach 
 birds. The woman who had sinned was not consid 
 ered here, at least by Dagett, as a lost soul, or as 
 outside of the happy chances of womanhood; nor, 
 indeed, had she any look of being hopelessly de 
 prived of the joys of life. I was recalled from my 
 thought of what would have been her fate in the 
 city, by hearing Heath speak of her. Along this 
 coast, at least, at that time, the social verdict was 
 not mere contemptuous disapproval, nor did it in 
 volve a life sentence. This was plain from what 
 Dagett had already said. Now, he added in reply to 
 a question by Heath: 
 
 "She s been a good mother to that boy. She s 
 took her wages of sin and complained none, and I 
 take it she ain t really bad." 
 
226 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "But," I asked, "will the man she marries care 
 for that other man s youngster?" 
 
 "He will, or he won t get her. I d take the boy 
 any day. He s strong and tough, and he just does 
 love to go out in the boat with me and fish, and 
 get me to tell Bible stories. Jonah s the one he 
 likes best. I ve had Jonah swallered all sorts of 
 ways. 
 
 "If," I said, "I can help this marriage, Dagett, 
 let me know: I mean, if the man is really going 
 to make her a good husband." 
 
 "He will, Sir, he will. You might think to give 
 him work at that new mill." 
 
 "Well, we will see about it. I must talk to 
 Cairns." 
 
 "I think, John," said Heath, "the woman s looks 
 will assist him to be good." 
 
 "And her cooking to stay good," I cried, laughing. 
 "The boy will be the trouble." 
 
 "Guess not, Sir," said Dagett, and then of a sud 
 den he shifted the talk on to a biblical subject. 
 
 I rarely left him without having received some 
 such contribution out of his lonely intimacy with 
 the one book he owned. The abrupt turn to his 
 favorite form of talk was as usual unexplained by 
 what went before, or perhaps was suggested by my 
 doubt in regard to the little fellow who, even more 
 than his mother, had my pity. 
 
 "It is time we left, John," said Heath. 
 
 "Got to say something first, Mr. Sherwood; got 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 227 
 
 to get it off my mind, or you mightn t never hear it 
 again." Dagett had to the full the high self -estimate 
 of the lonely thinker. 
 
 1 What is it?" I asked. 
 
 "I ve been wantin to get your notions about it. 
 It came to mind just as that small boy was gittin 
 into my dory Monday come two weeks. It was just 
 like as if he fetched it." 
 
 4 Well, what is it?" 
 
 The air was damp and the evening chilly as we 
 stood outside of the cabin door. I was impatient 
 to get away. Dagett took his time, and spoke 
 quietly. 
 
 "I was thinkin that there ar n t any little girls 
 in the Old Testament. They couldn t of been of 
 much account in those days; and the little boys, I 
 don t mind me of any, if it is n t for that small 
 Samuel and Moses, and it might be one or two more. 
 The little children don t seem to I can t put it in 
 the right words but it s just this, Mr. Sherwood 
 the little ones, the children, just all of them, didn t 
 come to be considered till Christ He took em all 
 under the wings of His love." 
 
 Heath s face expressed his pleasure at this inter 
 esting comment, as he said, Thank you, Mr. Dagett, 
 that is really a good thought and fresh but, what s 
 the matter?" 
 
 The fisherman making no reply, turned back into 
 the cabin and came out with what he called a spy 
 glass. He appeared to take no notice of the ques- 
 
228 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 tions I put to him. He stood a moment in the fading 
 light and the mists of the high-tossed surf, and 
 searched the coast with his glass. Again I asked, 
 "What is it?" 
 
 And he answered, "Why, Sir, there s a sloop; 
 it s Tom Weston s, lyin inside your reef. What 
 doted fool ever fetched her over there and in weather 
 like this?" 
 
 "By George! Harry," I cried, "it must be Mrs. 
 Norman. Come, quick." 
 
 "What s wrong?" said Dagett, amazed. 
 
 We fled with hardly a word. As we hastened over 
 a mile of beach, there was no chance to do more 
 than watch the surf, which now at full flood left 
 but a narrow space between the wood and the sea. 
 At the foot of my rocks, on the strand, we found 
 Weston and a sailor. I learned that Mrs. Norman 
 had, of course, traced Euphemia easily, and had 
 bribed Weston to bring her to the camp. She had 
 gone up to the tents half an hour before we arrived, 
 and had asked the Captain to wait, and would I 
 send him word what she wanted? He was in no 
 hurry, the sea would go down with the ebb and 
 make it easier. We left him and went up to the 
 tents, both somewhat relieved for the time. There 
 was no one in sight. I heard Euphemia s voice and 
 another s in her tent. I ran to the kitchen. Dodo 
 was not there, nor Mike. Returning, I found Eu 
 phemia outside of the tent, talking in low tones to 
 Heath. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 229 
 
 "What has happened?" I asked. Little things 
 worried and disturbed my cousin, but not the great 
 crises of life. 
 
 "I do not know yet. Mrs. Norman came in that 
 sloop. I was asleep. I was wakened by a noise be 
 hind my tent and then a cry, a woman s. I ran out 
 and saw men on the beach and Mrs. Norman run 
 ning forward between the tents, reeling. I caught 
 her and brought her into my own tent. She was 
 sobbing, and not fit to talk. Something happened, 
 I don t know what. I got her on to the bed and 
 asked no questions. There was I half heard it as 
 I woke up a great noise behind the tents, a scream. 
 Then I ran out. I heard Dodo s voice, but he is not 
 about the camp. He has gone." 
 
 Was Norman here ? " I asked anxiously. 
 
 "I do not know. I know no more than I have told 
 you. Someone was there. Best to leave Mrs. Norman 
 to me and send the sloop away. She must stay. 
 Get them to bring up what baggage she has." 
 
 * Certainly, I said. I went to the beach and talked 
 again to the men of the sloop, who knew only that 
 Mrs. Norman had paid them well for a rather peril 
 ous voyage. The sloop sailed away and we went 
 back to the tents. It was now dusk. Heath took 
 down the lantern from Dodo s door and we soon 
 saw among the pine needles behind the tents some 
 evidence of a struggle. 
 
 As we looked about, Heath said, "Norman has 
 certainly been here. Did he meet his wife?" 
 
230 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "He must have seen her. Dodo has gone after 
 this madman, I said. * He will take care of himself. 
 We shall see him presently and then we will know. 
 There is nothing to do but to wait." 
 
 We went in silence to my day tent and sat down. 
 Neither of us was disposed to talk. Heath, uneasy 
 as I saw, went at last to Euphemia s tent to ask if 
 she needed him. 
 
 "Neither doctor nor man," said my cousin; "I 
 will call if I want you. 
 
 Heath returned and I said, "That must be a 
 pretty resolute woman. She must have paid them 
 pretty well to bring her." 
 
 "I said she would come, John." 
 
 I went away and foraged among Dodo s reserves 
 for something to eat. Heath was gone when I came 
 back, and was on the beach where he liked to get 
 exercise. 
 
 I sat down alone wondering what had happened. 
 This drama was playing itself out to me. It began 
 with an idle, or I like to think, kindly curiosity 
 about a tenant and involving several people, had be 
 come dark enough. 
 
 I became more and more uneasy as the night wore 
 on to ten o clock. Cousin Euphemia, large, spectral 
 and white in the darkness, came to say Mrs. Norman 
 was quiet, perhaps sleeping, and had hardly spoken, 
 and where was Dodo? 
 
 I did not know, but was sure he would soon re 
 turn. With a quite needless, very feminine and re- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 231 
 
 peated request that we would make no noise, I was 
 again left alone. 
 
 I had heard no sound of approach when Mike ran 
 into my tent silently affectionate and behind him 
 Dodo. His very neat clothes were torn and his face 
 scratched and bloody. He stood, a dark figure in 
 the tent opening, with the searchlight behind him. 
 As usual, he waited for me to speak. 
 
 I said, "Come with me, Dodo. Talk low." I led 
 him away from Euphemia s tent and my own to 
 what had been Norman s. I lighted two candles and 
 saw books, clothes, and an open bag in a confused 
 litter. 
 
 "Sit down/ I said. 
 
 "Yes, sir," Dodo dropped on to a camp stool. 
 
 "What happened?" 
 
 "I was mending the stovepipe in the kitchen, so 
 I didn t hear anything. Then Mr. Hap worth came 
 in from the wood and put twenty-five dollars on 
 the table and he says, I am obliged by your kind 
 service/ He spoke like he does always, very soft. 
 I just thanked him and took it. After that he said 
 he was going away and where was Dr. Heath? He 
 didn t ask for you, but took my axe and said he 
 must stake up the wood pile and end that job. I 
 said it didn t make no matter. It was late. It was 
 just after sundown. Then he went out and I heard 
 him hewing the stakes. 
 
 "Next thing, sir, I heard him say, very loud, My 
 God! I ran out. He was standing still with the 
 
232 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 axe in his hand, like he was dazed, just staring at a 
 lady behind the tents. She was all in a black water 
 proof cloak and a hood. Hapworth he said quite 
 slow, Dead, dead. The lady she stumbled over the 
 tent ropes to meet him. She cried out, I am not 
 dead. I have come to help you, to find you/ She 
 did n t have more than time to say it when that man 
 ran at her with the axe. He screamed something 
 like, I 11 make sure this time! 
 
 She ran back between the tents and I just caught 
 him by the collar and put a foot behind him. He 
 struck round at me with the axe and missed my 
 shoulder as he fell, kind of sideways; grabbed me, 
 too, and we sort of fell together. Can t tell just 
 what did happen, but know I wrenched his arm back 
 so he screamed; think I broke it. He fought and 
 scratched me with one hand like a cat. At last I 
 choked him so he lay still. It wasn t long, not half 
 a minute. Then I let go and stood up. I thought 
 I d killed him. He got up and stared round and 
 pitched about like he was drunk and just walked 
 away into the wood. There was light enough to see. 
 He went faster and struck against the trees and that 
 was all of him. I heard Miss Phemy and so I 
 guessed the lady would be took care of and, seeing 
 that you took an interest in this man, I thought 
 you d like to know where he went." 
 
 "That was right. What next?" 
 
 "He was easy to track. He took up the creek a 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 233 
 
 bit and when I couldn t keep sight of him, I went 
 right to his house. The door was open and he had a 
 light. He was piling books and clothes and chairs 
 in a heap on the floor. Then, sir, he poured the oil 
 of the lamp on it and set it afire and ran out the door 
 round the house and up the road. I ran in and 
 kicked some things into the fireplace and threw some 
 out the door. Then I ran to the well and got a bucket 
 of water. I left it safe. "Wasn t well lighted; 
 was n t much oil, I guess. I went up the road a bit, 
 but it was dark. I did think I heard him on the 
 farther wood road a bit up Gay Mountain." 
 
 * That was well done, I said. But we must find 
 him to-morrow for the woman s sake. Was that all, 
 Dodo?" 
 
 "No, sir. I stopped at Christian s. Mr. Cairns 
 was there. I told them. Wasn t that right? It 
 seemed to trouble them a heap. Cairns went out to 
 look for the man. 
 
 "You were entirely right. Go to my tent and get 
 a glass of whiskey. You must need it. 
 
 "Thank you, sir, seems I kind of do need it." 
 
 "Go down to the beach and find Dr. Heath. He 
 is walking there. Tell him the whole story." He 
 was pleased, as I saw, to have another audience. 
 
 "After that get us something to eat, anything; 
 you must be tired." 
 
 Euphemia had a good report to make of Mrs. Nor 
 man. When all was quiet, I asked my cousin to come 
 
234 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 and have something to eat. She had, however, pro 
 vided for herself in Dodo s absence and for Mrs. 
 Norman, who wanted nothing. 
 
 I told her as briefly as possible of Mrs. Norman s 
 narrow escape from death and of Norman s flight. I 
 said too that Tom Dagett would be sent for early 
 next day and left in charge of the camp, as we must 
 try to find Norman. I had in mind a fear that he 
 might return. "A search," I added, "must of 
 course be made for a man as dangerous as Norman. 
 
 Upon this, lingering, she said, "John, I brought 
 all this on you. I am very sorry I brought her here. 
 
 As she spoke, Heath stood in the tent opening, 
 * Whether it was a wholly wise thing to do, Cousin, 
 he said, "is really not worth considering now. It 
 has proved to be fortunate for Mrs. Norman. If they 
 had met elsewhere, something worse might have hap 
 pened. You can t always be sure to have a good 
 giant about like Dodo." 
 
 Cousin Euphemia was not yet consolable. I said 
 that it was not a matter to trouble her, but she shook 
 her head in negative protest and said what was so 
 like her that Harry and I signalled quick glances of 
 humorous enjoyment. 
 
 "The worst of it is, John, that I know I would do 
 it again. I was sure that something awful was going 
 to happen. I ought to have warned you." 
 
 I laughingly urged that the opportunity for further 
 interference did not now exist and therefore she need 
 not repent beforehand. On this she said that dis- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 235 
 
 respect for these intimate spiritual premonitions was 
 to be expected from two such heathen. Then we 
 laughed until she, too, laughed, but said she knew she 
 should not. 
 
 We were all clear that Mrs. Norman must be kept 
 with us and guarded carefully until her husband s 
 fate was determined, a very difficult question as it 
 seemed to both the doctor and me. Mrs. Norman 
 was quiet, my cousin assured us, and was behaving 
 with such tranquil self-control as Euphemia con 
 sidered unnatural, and would not talk and was not 
 quite what was to be expected after such nearness to 
 death. I inquired if Mrs. Norman had said or asked 
 anything about her husband. 
 
 "Not a word," said Euphemia. She thought it 
 strange, and so left us. 
 
 "What with Dodo and Euphemia and Mrs. Nor 
 man/ said Harry "we are like d Artagnan and his 
 friends and will have to go sailing to talk where we 
 will not be heard by someone. 
 
 "There isn t much to talk about," I said, "but 
 here is your chance. Come with me to Norman s 
 tent. 
 
 We lighted the pipes and held counsel with the 
 help of that useful preliminary silence which the 
 pipe imposes. 
 
 "This is a grim ending, Jack, to your attempt to 
 run a private insane asylum. You have my admi 
 ration and my sympathy." 
 
 "Don t chaff me, Harry." 
 
236 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Not I. I am very far from that. I am really 
 wondering at the courage and intelligence of your 
 charity. Now you are to play host to a sick woman. 
 She will of course feel embarrassed here and will 
 want to go home at once." 
 
 "Would you let her go?" I asked. 
 
 "No, I would not, of course not." 
 
 "Then she must stay. How long she must stay, 
 we may know to-morrow after you have seen her 
 and we hear or don t hear what has become of Nor 
 man. You seemed to think I was foolish to try 
 to help Norman. You were really half in earnest." 
 
 Was I ? Then I did not make myself clear. 
 
 "No, and perhaps I am just now sensitive." 
 
 "Pardon me." 
 
 "All right," I said; "I am a little on edge to 
 night. We must be up early and find this madman." 
 
 "I often wonder, John, how far men like Norman 
 are responsible. Is he no more so than the axe with 
 which he strikes? Is he hopelessly hurled into 
 murder by the riot of a group of nerve cells? Was 
 he ever in a state to win by effort the battle against 
 advancing insanity? I wonder, I often wonder that 
 we are ever well in body or mind. Perhaps we never 
 are." 
 
 "My dear Harry, if you begin at midnight a dis 
 cussion on the insanities of the sane, I retire and 
 accept any conclusion you may reach. You and I 
 and Dodo and Mike will leave the camp in care of 
 Dagett. We will pick up Christian and Cairns, who 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 237 
 
 is at Christian s, and search Mount Gay. I have 
 little hope of securing our man. If he has kept on 
 the main road, he may be easily traced. If he goes 
 to Belport and then home by rail, he is enough 
 known at Belport to be found. To westward of 
 Mount Gay is a wilderness." 
 
 "What he will do, John, depends on his insane 
 moods. The active mood of murderous fury is usually 
 brief. He may then resume a condition of apparent 
 competence for the everyday things of life. Sup 
 pose we find him, what then ? 
 
 "What after-course we shall take depends on the 
 result of our search. I have become in a way respon 
 sible for this man and now for the woman. If we 
 miss him and he has gone through Belport, I shall 
 wire and write to someone in Baltimore." 
 
 "And Mrs. Norman, John?" 
 
 "She will stay, if I have to scuttle the catboat. 
 Chance and the isolation of the place make me a 
 rajah here like Brook of Sarawak. No woman at 
 least can get away. 
 
 "Then good night. Cousin Euphemia is just now 
 penitent, which is rare and not lasting. She will 
 accuse, excuse and exalt herself for the not too happy 
 results of her interference. She has always had more 
 an imprudent pen than an imprudent tongue and 
 that is obviously hard to explain for use of the pen 
 gives time to reflect. It is always the tongue which 
 is denounced in the Bible as the maker of mischief, 
 never the pen." 
 
238 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Yes, death and life are in the power of the 
 tongue/ 3 
 
 "I wish sleep was. I ve had but little lately," 
 said the doctor yawning. "I wonder if Euphemia 
 will stay awake. If she knows her powers orchestral 
 and their infinite variety, she will remain awake in 
 the interest of Mrs. Norman s quiet. She once told 
 me that only vulgar persons snore in sleep. Eeally, 
 John, Euphemia is a large contribution to the 
 humorous side of life, an endless riddle to me. She 
 is capable of any self-sacrifice, any minor folly, 
 any major penitence on account of it. She has really 
 moods of truth and moods when she is quite un 
 trustworthy. By George, she can be unpleasantly 
 truthful. But she can lie to Euphemia and never 
 confess it even to the priest called conscience." 
 
 I laughed out my recognition of this estimate and 
 was checked by Harry with, "Take care, John. You 
 have acquired a fine talent for laughter. I was 
 serious about Euphemia, thinking of the diabolical 
 mischief a too busy angel may create by the use of 
 her pen-feathers. I have no honest laugh in me to 
 night." 
 
 "You ought to know well enough," I said, "to 
 give you a text in return even in laughter the heart 
 is sorrowful and the end of mirth is heaviness. But 
 let us laugh if we can." 
 
 "Was it there Shelley found Our sincerest 
 laughter with some pain is fraught ?" 
 
 "No, in his life. Let us go to bed. We have twice 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 239 
 
 said good night. I have tied Mike to the tent ropes. 
 He will be guard enough to-night." 
 
 "Norman will not return, John, Best assured of 
 that. Good night" 
 
XII 
 
 DODO called us at 6 A. M., and leaving Dagett in 
 the camp with Mike and a word of caution, we 
 went away through the dim forest. "We picked up 
 Christian, silent and apparently unconcerned, and 
 Cairns, who was grave and had failed to find his 
 friend. On our way we discussed our plan of search. 
 We must first look for Norman on Mt. Gay. Heath 
 and I took to the two old disused wood roads, Dodo 
 went his own way with Mike, while Christian and 
 Cairns separated, following trails through the dense 
 underbrush up the farther side of the hill, agreeing to 
 meet us on the granite summit, some eight hundred 
 feet above the sea-level. 
 
 At the top I met all but Dodo. We had found 
 no trace of the fugitive. After waiting a while we 
 went down together, skirting the nearly dry bed of 
 the Chasm Brook. The trail led us over fern-clad 
 rocks, a rather sharp descent. About half way down 
 Mount Gay the small stream falls some eighty feet 
 into a dark-walled chasm. Here we were hailed by 
 a cry from Dodo far below us. I heard, "He ? s here. 
 I found him," echoed by the walls of the canyon. 
 
 We hurried down and entering the gorge walked 
 up it in haste. At the foot of the high rock wall 
 
 240 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 241 
 
 black with lichens stood Dodo. At his feet lay 
 Norman, on his back, his clean-cut face white and 
 still. Heath knelt. In a moment he looked up. 
 He is dead. I find no mark of injury, nothing, ex 
 cept a dislocated shoulder." He continued his in 
 spection. "Ah, I see, the skull is fractured. It was 
 a fall, a fall, John." 
 
 No one spoke except Cairns, who said, "Dead? Are 
 you sure that he is dead?" 
 
 "Yes, and for many hours." 
 
 "Was it his shoulder that s out of joint?" asked 
 Dodo. "I thought maybe I broke his arm, and it 
 was his shoulder." He was merely curious and no 
 more. 
 
 "Was it suicide or accident?" I asked, as Heath 
 rose. 
 
 "Let us go up above and look," said Heath, "but 
 we may never know." 
 
 Leaving the dead man, we carefully followed up 
 ward the farther side of the lightly wooded edge of 
 the chasm. Near the top Cairns pulled me back, 
 saying, "Take care! Those pine needles are danger 
 ous footing." 
 
 "Stop!" cried Heath. "Look, he slipped here. 
 See, his heels dug into these dry pine needles." 
 
 "He fell? You think he fell?" I said. "It was 
 not suicide." 
 
 "No, not that. He caught that maple sapling as 
 he went over and held on. Then it broke, as you 
 can see, when he swung out over the abyss." 
 
242 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "By heavens! in the darkness," murmured Cairns. 
 
 It was plain to be read. The grip of his one availa 
 ble hand slid down to where the sapling was thin; 
 it broke and he fell. I asked all present to examine 
 and feel sure that it was an accidental fall. We 
 were of one mind. 
 
 Cairns turned to Dodo. "Didn t you say you 
 broke his arm or put it out of joint?" 
 
 "I did," replied Dodo, grimly; "something 
 cracked. 
 
 "If he had had the use of both hands," said 
 Cairns, "he might have saved himself. My God! 
 How awful!" 
 
 We were silent, convinced. Quite abruptly Dodo 
 remarked, "Then I killed him when I did for that 
 arm." 
 
 A moment I was troubled for Dodo. "An accident 
 killed him," I said. 
 
 Was Dodo remorseful? I glanced at his dark 
 face. His white teeth showed as he said, "I m not 
 sorry. He clawed me awful. He was just a wild 
 beast" 
 
 "Quit that," said Cairns sharply. "He was my 
 friend." 
 
 "He wasn t mine," said Dodo. "He wasn t 
 his wife s neither." 
 
 "Keep quiet," I said. 
 
 "Yes, sir." It was an outbreak of ferocity in 
 herited from some far-away African barbarian. I 
 understood it and my man. My own barbaric in- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 243 
 
 stincts were merely some thousand years further 
 away. 
 
 "Come," said Heath; "it is clear enough." We 
 went down the mountain again to where in the 
 shroud of thickening fog the body lay. I asked Dodo 
 if he would stay by it until Christian and Cairns 
 and some neighbors would return with the means of 
 carrying it to Christian s house. 
 
 Dodo shook his head. "No, sir." 
 
 Cairns said, "I will stay." I laid a handkerchief 
 over the pale face and between the black walls of 
 the canyon we left the dead man and his friend. 
 
 "And so," said Heath, as we walked through the 
 wood, "there ends a tragedy." 
 
 "It is not ill ended, if it be really ended." 
 
 "No, it may not be, but," returned Heath, "I think 
 it is at an end. 
 
 "And the woman?" I said. 
 
 "God knows. She is well out of it. " 
 
 "Someone must tell her. Will you, Harry, who 
 knew her ? 
 
 "No, not I. After what that poor fellow said to 
 you of me, I you can understand. I would rather 
 not. It is a feeling, John, not a reason. Certainly 
 it should not be Euphemia, who can only tell her that 
 it was an accident." 
 
 "Will she want to know the whole story?" 
 
 "I think so. It will be well for her to be made 
 sure it was not suicide." 
 
 Then I knew it must fall to me as her host. I 
 
244 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 did not like it, but I have always disliked a reprieve 
 from the inevitable of some disagreeable task and 
 when therefore I was at the camp, it now being near 
 to noon, I called Euphemia out of her tent. 
 
 "Well, John," she said, as we walked to my own 
 tent, "have you found him?" 
 
 "Yes. We found him dead, from a fatal fall in 
 the night, an accident, certainly not suicide." 
 
 This tragic ending had an unexpected influence on 
 my cousin. She sobbed, "If I had not brought Mrs. 
 Norman here, this would not have happened." 
 
 "Listen," I said; "the man was hopelessly insane. 
 He was homicidal and wanted to kill Heath." I 
 told her briefly of the night peril, thinking to re 
 lieve her mind. The result was as usual to make her 
 minutely curious but presently, getting no complete 
 satisfaction as to the cause of Norman s desire to 
 kill the doctor, of which I said nothing, she returned 
 in a quite childlike way to her own share in the mat 
 ter. 
 
 "I shall never, never forgive myself." 
 
 "You will forget it to-morrow, or begin to blame 
 me or someone else." 
 
 "I shall. I shall. I am foolish, I suppose, but it 
 might have been helped if you had only 
 
 "Only what?" I broke in, quite out of patience. 
 "That poor fellow is mercifully disposed of. He is 
 happier dead and his wife the better for it. Now I 
 must tell her." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 245 
 
 "Why not Harry? It seems to me that a physi 
 cian would be the better person. 7 
 
 "No, I am her host. He will not and I must un 
 less you will." 
 
 She at once declared she would not, that if Harry 
 would not do his manifest duty, I was the proper 
 person. If she had not brought Mrs. Norman to 
 camp, it might not have happened. She would have 
 to confess it. 
 
 "But she knows that already. What is there to 
 confess? Euphemia, you are really inconceivably 
 foolish." 
 
 "I am. I am," she cried, mopping her eyes. "I 
 will tell her you want to see her. It is all dreadful. 
 I wish I had never come." 
 
 I followed her. "She wants to see you," she said 
 as she came out of the tent. I went in and Euphemia 
 walked away, tearful, unfolding a fresh handkerchief. 
 
 The gray foggy day made the tent so dark that 
 I was aware at first only of a pale face as she lay on 
 the lounge and of large eyes and a hand meeting 
 mine. There is one thing in a woman which is always 
 agreeable to me, a low clear voice, with varied tones. 
 Before I collected myself so as to speak, she said, 
 "Mr. Sherwood, I have had a life of great sorrow. 
 If you have bad news, do not try to prepare me for 
 it. Have you found him?" 
 
 "Yes, he died by a purely accidental fall into a 
 chasm on the mountain." 
 
246 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 1 It was not suicide ? 
 
 "No, it certainly was not that." 
 
 "Did he suffer?" 
 
 "No, his death must have been instantaneous." 
 
 She said nothing for a little while and then mur 
 mured, "God has been good to him." 
 
 "And," thought I, "to you." 
 
 For a moment she was again silent and then said, 
 "Thank you for your great kindness to him, and 
 above all for your frankness. I owe you a longer 
 statement of what led up to this. I am not in a state 
 to talk just now. Thank you." 
 
 She put out a hand which was tremulous. It was 
 the only sign of emotion, for her voice was clear and 
 distinct and never broke. I left her, as she said, 
 "Ask Miss Swan wick to leave me alone for an hour 
 and she will pardon me not to think that even the 
 kindest talk can help me." 
 
 I knew that I had met an unusual character and 
 that her amazing self-command must be due to cir 
 cumstances in her life of which as yet we knew but 
 little. For several days we saw nothing of Mrs. Nor 
 man and quietly arranged for her husband s burial, 
 concerning which she had no directions to give and 
 no wishes except that I would arrange it as seemed 
 best to me. 
 
 Just above the road to Belport on the northern 
 lower slope of Mt. Gay is one of those lonely little 
 graveyards seen in this half-settled land. As the 
 men climbed the hill with their load I observed the 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 247 
 
 too common neglect, the rude broken fence, the two 
 or three marble headstones leaning over, futile records 
 of sorrow as dead as those the stones were meant to 
 keep in remembrance. More pathetic were the 
 mounds marked only with rain-faded little muslin 
 flags renewed year by year over the dead in battle 
 long ago. Here we left him. 
 
 As the party separated, Heath and I walked home 
 ward through the forest. I was first to break the 
 silence. 
 
 "That was a sad ending, Harry. There was a man 
 of intelligence, cultivated, unusually well-read, kindly, 
 charitable, religious, a master of all the courtesies 
 of life, distinctly what you and I claim to be, a gen 
 tleman." I paused. 
 
 "Indeed, I share with you, John, the wonder you 
 have in mind over the contrast of this man s natural 
 character with his actions, his murderous impulses. 
 Like others I have seen, he must have been the merest 
 child in his unreasoning acceptance of those coun 
 selling voices urging murder, and after all, we must 
 believe him as truly innocent as a baby, ah, as you 
 or I" 
 
 I found it hard to accept his verdict of utter in 
 ability of control and said that when I threatened 
 Norman he became scared. 
 
 "Yes, that is true," said Heath. "I have known 
 cases where some brutal handling on the part of 
 a man the madman meant to kill, alarmed him into 
 a state of quite lasting harmlessness, " 
 
248 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "That seems strange," I said. 
 
 "But true." 
 
 I said no more, but went on thinking of the horror 
 of a brain haunted by fiend thoughts, forever whis 
 pering murder to one incapable of intelligent con 
 trol. 
 
 The camp life lapsed into its usual routine, Mrs. 
 Norman spending much time lying on cushions upon 
 the cliff, where Mrs. Christian and Euphemia sat and 
 sewed, mercifully silent, while day after day went 
 by. I had an unwilling guest, as I knew, but too 
 plainly she was not in condition to leave or endure 
 long travel. Thus week after week of summer came 
 and went, while slowly her color returned with in 
 crease of strength. 
 
 Euphemia, at her best, assured her that I would be 
 hurt if she left us until Heath thought her well 
 enough. Now and then she said to me a few words 
 of thanks or greeting, as she went to and from her 
 meals in a separate tent I set up to secure for her the 
 isolation I was sure she desired. More rarely in the 
 intimate life of the camp we had a few minutes 
 of longer chat, but generally I so arranged as to leave 
 her alone with Euphemia. 
 
 As I had to visit the mill and see my newly-bought 
 pine land, we contrived easily to be much absent from 
 the camp. Distant sailing excursions up to the 
 Grand Manan and Digby Sound, the home of Evange- 
 line, twice took us away for days at a time and thus 
 in one and another way the women were left to them- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 249 
 
 selves. I had in fact seen very little of Mrs. Nor 
 man. Euphemia had wisely decreed that they should 
 dine alone and, under all the circumstances, this 
 seemed reasonably to save the younger woman from 
 needless social effort. 
 
 The woods were now too early gay with the colors 
 of autumnal days. September had come and at last 
 all of my guests declared that they could stay no 
 longer. 
 
 Some days before they left camp, Mrs. Norman 
 asked me timidly if she might walk with me in the 
 wood, as now she felt equal to some exercise and evi 
 dently felt the need of it. 
 
 I knew that what she desired was freedom to speak 
 where she would not be overheard. It was now more 
 than four weeks since Norman s death. She had not 
 so grieved with conventional sufficiency as to satisfy 
 Euphemia, who was on the way toward doubtfully 
 adopting her as a proper case for spiritual treatment. 
 She had proved, however, as I suspected, not quite 
 all that the role of young widow suggested to Eu 
 phemia. My cousin said to Heath that she had 
 been in no haste at all about mourning dress and 
 was shocked that its absence did not trouble our 
 guest. On this Harry brutally remarked that the 
 common sense of time would dictate entire satisfac 
 tion with this merciful divorce by death. Euphemia, 
 indignant, returned that the doctor s life had made 
 him hard and that he was a sad example of the want 
 of sympathy so common in a godless profession. 
 
250 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Said Harry, who liked to puzzle her, "Where did 
 you get that commonplace wisdom ? I must tell John. 
 The fact is, Cousin, you yourself are a materialized 
 spiritualist; that for you!" and fled laughing, de 
 lighted as usual to leave her bewildered. 
 
 With some advice from Euphemia concerning the 
 length of walk Mrs. Norman and I went slowly up 
 the brook where by the side of this comrade stream 
 of many moods, I had had a path cleared so that 
 beyond the open pine forest the underbrush was cut 
 away as far as a trail was required. 
 
 "This way," I said, and went on before her of 
 which matter whether side by side or in Indian file 
 there is much to be said. A quarter of a mile away 
 the path crossed a small morass where stepping stones 
 had been laid by Dodo, and we came among the 
 deciduous trees. Here the way was broader and I 
 could walk at her side. 
 
 Was her returning health, which was obvious, due 
 to the tonic of release from the prison of a terror 
 too great for human endurance, or to the royal health 
 touch of the winds of these coasts? Something was 
 fashioning out of the troubled, broken-spirited woman 
 an intelligent creature who was to have many forms 
 of attractiveness from childlike sweetness and ca 
 pacity to be easily pleased to bewitchment which no 
 man can explain or has explained since the world 
 began. 
 
 "The pine woods make no record of the decay of 
 fall," I said, willing to distract her. "There is no 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 251 
 
 autumn here. The pine is an aristocrat and has the 
 peculiar ways of his caste. " 
 
 "Tell me," she said. "I hardly understand." 
 
 "His only autumn comes in the spring." 
 
 "I see. The spring is their autumn. Then they 
 only shed their leaves when the summer is coming, 
 not in the woodland sadness of the fall. 
 
 "Yes, that is so." 
 
 I had the suggested thought as she spoke that for 
 her the full sense of loss might not come until she 
 was far away in time from the oppression of a fatal 
 hour of wintry fate. 
 
 She was silent for a while and then said, "Ah, the 
 pleasant, companionable water. You must find it a 
 pleasure to own it. 
 
 "It seems rather to own me. I am in fact a di 
 vided property. I came to this coast a very sick 
 man. Sea and wood have been kind. They have 
 made me well and given me many gifts besides health. 
 I have been a hard-worked iron-master, liking my 
 task and little else. Here I have discovered a new 
 world of happiness. As I look back, it seems to me 
 incredible. It is like the return of a larger child 
 hood." 
 
 How incredible ? but no, not quite. 
 
 "No, not quite incredible. I was a rather lonely, 
 very imaginative child. After that I lived long a 
 mere material life. Can you conceive of a man find 
 ing himself, Mrs. Norman, his long-lost self?" 
 
 1 Yes, Mr. Sherwood, and of a woman who has 
 
252 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 lived too much in the world of emotion without the 
 regulation of a happy material life of duties never 
 finding herself." 
 
 This half confession pleased me. "But she will 
 find herself, her true self." I understood her and 
 to get off the ground of personal reflections I added, 
 "Perhaps it is because my brook has no duties that 
 I have come to like it. It quenches no thirst of cat 
 tle. It turns no mill. It is uselessly delightful. It 
 shall never work. 
 
 "Never, I hope. How gay it is. It seems to romp 
 and dance like a child." 
 
 "In July it is bordered with marsh marigolds and 
 stop a moment ! " I had the sudden sense of some 
 thing pleasant. Then in an instant I knew it was 
 because of the fragrance of the twin flower. A faint 
 emotion of pleasure reminded me anew of what this 
 scent once brought to me before the recognition of it 
 as an odor had become clear. I stood in brief 
 thought of this as singular while I looked about me 
 for the flower. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. "Linnea? I do not 
 know it." 
 
 "The twin flower. It is long out of season, but 
 here it is, just half a dozen." 
 
 She leaned over to look at it. "It is new to me. 
 How delicate! How refined!" I observed that she 
 did not pick it. "What a tiny thing to give such 
 pleasure! I wonder if it is like music and poetry 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 253 
 
 and is a giver of unequal pleasure, more to me or to 
 you than to Dodo?" 
 
 Very likely, seeing that there are coarse tastes in 
 regard to odors as in other things. The taste in 
 odors is rather suggestive. I am at once prejudiced 
 against a woman who uses certain perfumes." 
 
 Then she said gaily, "I shall claim at least a small 
 share of approval, for I dislike all scents except 
 flowers and not all of them." 
 
 "My cousin Euphemia will agree with you. Are 
 you tired?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no." 
 
 "Then I must show you the famous spring. Most 
 of my brook comes from it, but at a word we will 
 return!" 
 
 "No, I must first talk to you, but not while we 
 walk. I must sit down." 
 
 Very well then. We will see the spring. 
 
 We passed under and through the autumn glory of 
 red oak and maple with knee-high on each side the 
 varied reds of the blueberry bushes. We went on, 
 not talking, until I led her around the rocks to the 
 moss-bordered pool. 
 
 As always, the quick outleap of this great bounty 
 of water between the stern granite lips was a re 
 freshing joy. 
 
 "Sit here," I said, and waited to hear what this 
 young woman with her strange experiences and quick 
 insight would say. 
 
254 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 She knelt beside the spring and then looked up at 
 me as if I were to speak and interpret its language. 
 
 I said lightly, "Old Mother Earth does not often 
 speak to us like this. What does it say?" 
 
 "Ah, if I only knew!" and then with a pause, 
 "but isn t there a kind of joy in not knowing?" 
 
 "Perhaps," I returned. I thought at once of the 
 mystical vague thinkings of Norman and a gleam of 
 explanatory comprehension flashed through my mind 
 but no, this was more wholesome reflection. 
 
 "How cold it is," she said. "The mere sight of 
 it makes one thirsty. How it sparkles!" 
 
 The tin cup Norman brought hither was on the 
 rock above her head. I did not offer it to her. Why 
 I did not, I would have found it hard to explain. 
 Meanwhile, still kneeling and making a cup of her 
 hands, she drank as I watched her. 
 
 "Must I thank the spring or you?" she said, 
 looking up. "All waters do differ so much. You 
 seemed in doubt when I said there was joy in not 
 knowing, but I do insist, Mr. Sherwood, that igno 
 rance may be many forms of bliss. There is a charm 
 in not knowing what this new-born child of earth 
 could tell if we could interpret its prattle. Is n t the 
 impossibility of knowing all of friendship or of love 
 and of God, a part of life s value? Mystery is for 
 some people the far too cherished part of religion." 
 
 "Yes, yes," I said laughing, "Euphemia." 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed, the dear lady loves it. But am 
 I not right?" 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 255 
 
 She rose from her knees as I replied: 
 
 "Yes, you are right for you. I suppose that it is 
 for some natures agreeable; not for me. The less 
 of mystery, the less of the unknowable, the better 
 I am pleased. I cannot make clear what I mean 
 without too long a talk, but I confess that to have 
 Nature willing to explain herself too easily would 
 not please me." 
 
 "I see," she said thoughtfully. "It is a large sub 
 ject." 
 
 Wondering how much of this interesting little 
 woman I was yet to know, I said gaily, "I shall tell 
 you if ever I come to understand what the baby 
 spring says before it gets to the sea." 
 
 "Oh, yes. It will be growing up. Do not for 
 get." 
 
 "No, but now to make you more comfortable. Sit 
 here." As I spoke I folded a light shawl I had 
 brought and set it behind her. 
 
 "Thank you. I am not at all tired. And now let 
 me talk. I wanted I had to have a chance. I think 
 it right to make clear to you some things. I have 
 been here, Mr. Sherwood, the prisoner of my own 
 weakness, for I really came in spite of every counsel 
 and I am the wreck of all kinds of moral and bodily 
 storms. I got up out of bed to come here." 
 
 Hesitating a moment, she went on. "Now what I 
 am, I must explain a little. I may have seemed too 
 cold, too well, I feel sure Miss Swanwick thinks me 
 so. When my father was long ill in Italy, Mr. Nor- 
 
256 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 man was kind beyond the common and I came to care 
 for him. You would understand why, if you had 
 known him in his better days. We were married 
 before my father s death and, returning to Baltimore, 
 within a month this dreadful thing came on, oh, even 
 before we came back. I did not understand at first. 
 Then I knew. I lived a year amid wild jealousies 
 and threats of my life, oh, more than threats! I 
 thank God that I was able to endure it to the end." 
 Sitting with head bent down, she ceased to speak. 
 
 Thinking to relieve her of a trying task, I said, 
 I know the rest, Mrs. Norman, all of it, or enough. 
 
 She looked up. "Oh, thank you. That spares me 
 something. One word more, I want to give your 
 man, Dodo, five hundred dollars. He saved my life 
 and indeed I still want to live. Here is my cheque. 
 
 I took the cheque and said, "I will give it to 
 him." 
 
 "Thank you and you will not misunderstand me. 
 I tried to tell Miss Swanwick. She did nothing but 
 cry, dear lady, and urged me to find comfort in her 
 own church. I wanted oh, I did want to explain 
 myself fully. I could, but not to her. Her kind 
 ness defeats me always and I too, end by crying." 
 She turned with a quick movement. "Let us go." 
 
 We walked homeward for a time in entire silence. 
 My mind kept oscillating, so to speak, between the 
 present and the remembrance of a past hour with 
 Norman at the spring when he stood confessing the 
 murder of this woman who here had told me her un- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 257 
 
 happy story. She had been more precise, and nat 
 urally so, when she had tried to tell my cousin, but 
 somewhat failed, as I have said. It was plain, how 
 ever, that she had lived for months with the fear 
 of being killed by the man to whom she had, as 
 Euphemia thought, given herself under the influence 
 of gratitude so great as to have made her consent too 
 readily to her father s wish. Now she was deeply in 
 debt to strangers. To them she must make clear that 
 she had done her duty. To them she could not say 
 that the torture of daily fear and the years of sus 
 pense as to Norman s fate, and her own relation to 
 life, had left her with what affection she had ever 
 had neutralized by the cruelty of events. Such at 
 least was my own inference after talking it over with 
 Euphemia and later with Heath. Her anxiety to go 
 home was naturally due to a desire to trespass no 
 longer on my hospitality and to settle the complica 
 tions of Norman s affairs. 
 
 Aware as we walked beside the stream that she 
 was too plainly living over in memory a painful 
 past, I said, "You know this pleasant aromatic 
 odor?" I picked the leaves as we moved on and 
 gave them to her. 
 
 "Oh, yes, the sweet fern, and this too, the winter- 
 green." She responded at once to the gentle call of 
 normal things and noticed the ripening beauty of the 
 leaves of the maple and the bright colored toadstools. 
 Encouraged by a word or two and more and more 
 interested she observed the many varieties of golden- 
 
258 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 rod and asked what the bees in swarms were gather 
 ing from the spruces. I did not know, nor do I now. 
 Presently she said, pausing near the camp, "What a 
 curious stone! It is wet and yet all these granite 
 boulders are dry." 
 
 "Yes. I must have passed it many times until 
 Heath noticed it. It is a very black dense rock, not 
 belonging here. It must have been carried hither 
 by the great glacier sledges ages ago. The people 
 here call these stones weeping rocks. Even in dry 
 weather they are wet." 
 
 "I have heard of them. How do you explain their 
 being wet?" 
 
 "I do not know. Ask the doctor. There are some 
 superstitions about them; Dodo has one." 
 
 "Oh, but I must know." She had again the eager 
 childlike way which was so pretty. For my part I 
 was pleased to have found for her in nature an hour 
 of relief from the company of sorrowful memories. 
 
 "Ask Dodo," I said. "Here we are at home." 
 
 "It has been indeed a kind home to me," she re 
 turned, as we passed through the tent lines. l Thank 
 you. 
 
 The September gales from the northwest are the 
 only certainly predicable weather on the coast. One 
 of them quite forbade for a time the intended de 
 parture of Euphemia and my other guests. I soon 
 found that to get to Belport by the wood trail and 
 then by a long drive was, for Euphemia at least, not 
 to be thought of. The doubt with which she con- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 259 
 
 fided her trunks to a railway and out of her sight 
 was, as Heath said, of mysterious origin. I had set 
 tled that Dodo should take the trunks by catboat 
 and that some kind of a carriage would meet the 
 women at Christian s. But Euphemia at once de 
 clined this separation from her baggage and had not 
 walked two miles at any one time for years. 
 
 We could but wait on the uncertain September 
 weather. Three days of southwest wind and rain 
 tried Heath s patience, as he would have to wait for 
 Euphemia and was evidently eager to leave and an 
 noyed by her difficulties. A day was twice set for 
 the sail to Belport and twice the wind or a fury of 
 rain forbade. I took it philosophically, as one may 
 the lesser calamities of others, but in fact the camp 
 was becoming a bit out of temper. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Norman must have felt a certain 
 embarrassment at being the prisoner of my hos 
 pitality because of Euphemia s whims. More than a 
 month had gone by since Norman s death. Her own 
 bodily weakness had at first forbidden her departure 
 and now it was my cousin s fancies. 
 
 After these last few days of postponement, Mrs. 
 Norman told Euphemia that on Monday or Tuesday 
 she would go to Belport in my boat, unless I said 
 it would be dangerous. I declared that the weather 
 would probably serve or that if she decided to go, I 
 would go to Belport with her, and Euphemia might 
 wait on the winds with Heath. 
 
 Mrs. Norman had shown me no least sign of the 
 
260 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 impatience which in Heath, to my surprise, and in 
 Euphemia, not to my surprise, was at times rather 
 too plain. As usual, Euphemia gave way before a 
 decisive person, but said to go in my sailboat, if it 
 blew hard, was tempting Providence. Then for the 
 first time I heard from Mrs. Norman a word of the 
 humorous criticism which, in some characters, no 
 calamity seems to keep in the silence of unsaid things. 
 
 Faintly smiling, she said, "Dear Miss Euphemia, 
 tempting Providence? Why do people think that 
 Providence is so easily tempted?" 
 
 We were standing near my tent at this time dis 
 cussing the weather and plans for speeding the part 
 ing guests. Euphemia, who was always puzzled by 
 this kind of mingling of the mirthful and good sense, 
 considered Mrs. Norman s remark silently, while 
 Heath said, "Mrs. Norman, there is somewhere in the 
 Koran or, no, in some Oriental writer, * Tempt not 
 God, nor yet the devil/ " 
 
 "That certainly covers the whole ground," I said, 
 laughing as the group separated. They did get away 
 on Tuesday, in perfect weather. 
 
 I neglected to state the unlooked-for result of Mrs. 
 Norman s gift to Dodo. On returning from our walk 
 I sought him in the kitchen, and said, "Mrs. Norman 
 feels very grateful to you for saving her life and has 
 asked me to give you this check for five hundred 
 dollars." 
 
 "I won t take it, sir." He spoke with unusual 
 decision. "I killed that man. He d have been alive 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 261 
 
 now if I hadn t have lamed his arm. He was my 
 enemy. I killed him. I m not sorry. He mauled 
 me awful. If she was to know I killed him, she 
 would n t want to thank me. 
 
 I reasoned with him in vain. "No, sir, I just can t 
 take it." 
 
 When I returned the check to Mrs. Norman, of 
 course, without Dodo s full explanation of his re 
 fusal, she said, "I will then have merely to thank 
 Dodo/ which she did in a kind note. I read it to 
 him. He made no comment, except to say he would 
 like to keep the note. When I told Heath he re 
 marked that my horizons of human experiences must 
 be enlarging. They were in many directions. I said 
 to Euphemia only that Dodo had refused the gift, 
 on which she returned that it showed great delicacy 
 of feeling, and Mrs. Christian, to whom witH praise 
 of Dodo Euphemia mentioned it, that he was a fool 
 and that there were some people no one could under 
 stand. 
 
XIII 
 
 THE business of packing became, as usual, very 
 serious for my cousin. On the day before that 
 set for them to leave, between unpacking and re 
 packing, and anxious consideration of the weather, 
 she was so fully occupied that Mrs. Norman was for 
 the time left to Heath and to me. My cousin, who 
 had just received a number of letters, excused him 
 self to my great satisfaction, when I asked him to 
 join Mrs. Norman and me in a visit to Dagett. 
 
 1 It is over a mile," I said; "will it tire you? 
 It is hard walking." 
 
 "No, I am ever so much better. I shall be ready 
 in a minute." 
 
 Presently Mrs. Norman rejoined me, and together 
 we went down the rocky descent and walked up the 
 beach. On our left was the sombre green of pine 
 and spruce, with the red and gold of autumn, and 
 here and there the singular purples of the striped 
 maple. 
 
 "An early fall, is it not?" asked my companion. 
 
 I said as it was my first autumn in these woods, I 
 could not tell. 
 
 "But the sea the seal You must have known 
 it?" 
 
 262 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 263 
 
 "No, sea and forest are like new books to me 
 books in a strange tongue I have had to learn their 
 language. 
 
 "But you have learned it?" 
 
 "Yes, more or less, and slowly." 
 
 For a little while neither spoke, which is the sign 
 of an empty mind or a too full mind. Then Mrs. 
 Norman said, "I sometimes think that it is the citi 
 zen of towns who gets the most out of nature. It 
 is so with you, I am sure. All this wonder world 
 speaks one tongue to you and another to Mr. 
 Cairns." 
 
 "Yes," I said, "perhaps but these coast people 
 do not easily reveal themselves. They are apt to 
 surprise you at times." 
 
 "That may be. The mention of Mr. Cairns," she 
 said, "recalls to me the fact that I ought to have 
 spoken to him of his rescue of my of Mr. Nor 
 man. I did not forget, but I could not. Before 
 we talk of other matters, I want to ask you when I 
 am gone to give the money I meant for Dodo to 
 Mr. Cairns and Susan as a remembrance of what he 
 did for Mr. Norman. It is a wedding gift. Here 
 is my cheque." 
 
 "It will be welcome, I am sure." 
 
 "I have, of course, thought much of what he did. 
 How very strange, Mr. Sherwood, are the chances of 
 this life. The doing of a brave action has brought 
 back into this man s life friends, love and respect. 
 What a lift out of the slough of self-reproach and 
 
264 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 dishonor. Mrs. Christian has told me all about him. 
 He seems to me an unusual man. Where did he get 
 his refinement, his good manners ?" 
 
 "Well, he comes of one of those cultivated clerical 
 New England breeds which have given us so many 
 able men, but he owed much to Mr. Norman. " 
 
 "Yes, so 1 have heard, and that does make nobler 
 the risk he took. He was far from any hope of 
 rehabilitation. It was the impulse of gratitude that 
 made him do what we call a heroic act." 
 
 "Yes," I said, "but like most of these rescues, 
 there was no time for complex thought. This action 
 had the abruptness of an urgent instinct. You see 
 this where children who can not swim have lost their 
 lives in trying to rescue comrades, or in the most 
 perilous of all attempts to save life, the most fatal, 
 the attempt to stop a running horse." 
 
 "You like to talk about courage, Mr. Sherwood." 
 
 "Yes. I often regret that I had no chance in war 
 to test what no man surely knows he has without 
 some trial and indeed, Mrs. Norman, men may go, 
 most men do, nowadays, a lifetime in this igorance. 
 My conscience is at ease as concerns our Civil War. 
 I was doing a better service than if I had been under 
 fire." 
 
 "I see. Yes, I understand. Dr. Heath is given to 
 some friendly idolatry about you. 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so. Don t trust Harry Heath too 
 much. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 265 
 
 "Or Miss Euphemia or " 
 
 "No, none of them," I laughed. 
 
 "Not even my own experience?" 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 "Well, I have let you off very easily, but it is 
 chiefly because I can not venture to talk freely. My 
 thanks for kindness are out of my power to express 
 and always will be. I suppose you will at least per 
 mit praise of the sea. It seems to be in a good 
 humor to-day. How can it be at times so terrible! 
 And yet I should like to see one of your great 
 storms. 
 
 "Harry Heath says, apropos of this, he would like 
 to have seen once the unrestrained anger of certain 
 great men. He named one or two. Euphemia must 
 bring you again," I said thoughtlessly. "I will 
 order a storm for you." 
 
 "Oh, never, never, Mr. Sherwood." 
 
 "Pardon me." 
 
 "That is needless. You said what was kind and 
 natural. I may come to see things differently. To 
 associate all this endless beauty of sea and wood with 
 our poor human disasters so as to lose its true value 
 is, I suppose, unreasonable." 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. Norman, it is not as I think of it a 
 thing we can settle in the Supreme Court of reason." 
 
 "You are right, quite right. I carry away some 
 pleasant memories, some things I want never to for 
 get, never, unending kindness, thoughtful considera- 
 
266 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 tion and please not to protest, Mr. Sherwood yes, 
 I know you are one of the men who are embarrassed 
 and annoyed by thanks. " 
 
 It was true. I did not know how she knew it. 
 For a moment she seemed to me to be too much 
 moved for further speech. I was not displeased that 
 she recognized what had been done for her. I did 
 not want to be told of it. I have always had this 
 peculiarity. 
 
 I had at least to speak out of what is the smallest 
 part of it all, hospitality so unusual. Now I have 
 paid this debt to myself, I shall say no more, except, 
 and she smiled, "that as you do not like the debts of 
 gratitude to be paid in words, you must have suf 
 fered, if all I hear of you be true." 
 
 "For shame, Mrs. Norman." 
 
 "Well, you deserved it. I will not sin again. 
 What kind of a man is this Dagett, who seems to 
 amuse Dr. Heath so much?" 
 
 "He is an example of remarkable intelligence with 
 out cultivation and without enterprise, an oddly 
 original thinker. You will see for yourself if you 
 humor him into frank talk." 
 
 "That seems attractive. You have been, I hear, 
 a kind friend to these people in their lonely, limited 
 lives." 
 
 "What, again? Ah, Mrs. Christian has been dis 
 coursing 
 
 "Yes, an angel was the smallest title she had for 
 you. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 267 
 
 "There are people who knew me at home who 
 would be rather amazed at my moral promotion. " 
 
 "Are you?" 
 
 "Yes and no." 
 
 "Why, yes?" 
 
 "Because, to be frank, I did not imagine it possible 
 that a man s view of his relation to others could be 
 changed by the happiness of recovered health and by 
 what was new to him, the close and every-day con 
 tact with nature." 
 
 "I think I understand, but you said yes and no. 
 Why, no?" 
 
 "No, because I have seen here how easily men are 
 changed ; one, Cairns, by a single event and by a little 
 sunshine of prosperity." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Cairns. I wonder if many people, strong 
 people, unhappy people, can come to know the happi 
 ness of some such radical change or or if we I 
 can t talk of it now as I should like to do. Is that 
 your fisherman on the rock?" 
 
 "Yes." I was glad to get away from what I dis 
 like, talk of this kind and, above all, of myself. I 
 was saying things to this woman such as were foreign 
 to my nature to speak of to anyone. We fell as by 
 common consent to trivialities with chat of the 
 seaside people and were presently at Dagett s 
 cabin. 
 
 "Good morning, Tom," I said. "This is Mrs. 
 Norman. 
 
 He put on a queer, puzzled look. "I was thinkin 
 
268 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 you was Mrs. Hap worth. 7 Being at the moment be 
 hind her, I shook my head at him. 
 
 The woman said quickly, "My husband was not 
 of sound mind. Here he chose to call himself Hap- 
 worth. His name was Norman. " 
 
 "Well, now," said Tom, "come to think of it, he 
 did seem a bit queer. Hope I don t offend, ma am." 
 
 Oh, no, she returned very quietly ; " it was quite 
 natural that I should puzzle you. 
 
 "Would you come in?" We followed him. 
 
 She looked about her at oars, sails, nets and oilers 
 on the beams overhead. "I should think you needed 
 a woman, Mr. Dagett, " she remarked smiling. 
 
 "Now that s what every woman says. It is a 
 kind of a here-and-there sort of place, but I can al 
 ways find things. Women like closets. Ever notice 
 that, Mr. Sherwood?" 
 
 "I had not noticed it." 
 
 "I have, " laughed Mrs. Norman, "the more 
 closets the better." 
 
 "Well, it s so. I Ve got three old aunts. They 
 set it up one of them was to live with me. They 
 drawed lots for me, but I said that was worse than 
 gettin married, because there wasn t any law for 
 divorcing your aunt, and there wasn t a chance of 
 them dyin because my folks has got a most teedyus 
 talent for livin !" 
 
 Mrs. Norman laughed outright. "I give up," she 
 said. "But you will get caught some day and then 
 there will be closets " 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 269 
 
 He shook his head. "Not this fish, ma am. Been 
 hooked once. No more for me." 
 
 Desirous of being pleasant she presently asked, 
 "And still are you not lonely at times? I suppose 
 you have time to read? Would you like me to send 
 you some books?" 
 
 "Well, Sabbath do drag a bit but I don t feel to 
 need books. The Bible s enough for me. Other days 
 I m busy one way and another." 
 
 "Of course," pursued Mrs. Norman, much amused, 
 "there is church on Sunday, but it is a long way to 
 Belport." 
 
 "That minds me of Deacon Jones. He comes 
 here now and again to get me to go to Belport to 
 meetin . I said, Bible s enough meetin for me. 
 Got some choice of preachers in that meetin . Then 
 he talked about two or three bein necessary and I, 
 I just said did he think God wasn t around when a 
 man prays by himself and besides, the way he put it 
 wasn t what was set down. I never could clear my 
 head about that text. Texts is very contradictious 
 sometimes. Ever notice that, ma am? Now there s 
 them texts concernin temptation. They re right 
 puzzlin . There s that about God not temptin no 
 man and about prayin to be kept out of tempta 
 tion. I m of a mind that that s where the devil 
 comes in. He does explain a lot of things." 
 
 "Why not ask Miss Swanwick, Mr. Dagett," said 
 my companion. 
 
 "Never thought of that. I did hear Mrs. Chris- 
 
270 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 tian say she s awful learned in Bible. Guess she s 
 a right deep thinker." 
 
 Euphemia as a deep thinker was almost too much 
 for my gravity. Mrs. Norman took it seriously, or 
 seemed to, and advised the conversation with my 
 cousin, expressing some desire to be present and 
 clearly enjoying my fisherman. . 
 
 While Tom was indulging himself with free use of 
 a rare opportunity to talk, I observed the perfect 
 courtesy of Mrs. Norman s attentiveness, the absence 
 of feature comment upon his oddity of statement and 
 the courteous little word of interest or agreement. 
 It is not always easy for the humorous to conceal the 
 sense of amusement, or was she merely so very gravely 
 interested as not to feel for a time the humor of what 
 he said? 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Dagett," she remarked, "people gen 
 erally manage to get out of the Bible support for 
 whatever they desire to believe." She was evidently 
 luring him on to not unwilling talk, liking, I 
 thought, as I did, his earnestness and its somewhat 
 startling originality. 
 
 "That s so, ma am," he went on well pleased. 
 "It s like the sea, the Bible. It s God s own sea. 
 There s many fishes in it and people they just keeps 
 so much of their catch as they want and then they 
 cooks it their own way and that s the end of it. 
 
 Turning to me, she said, "That is sadly true, Mr. 
 Sherwood. We should have had Miss Euphemia 
 here." Tom, self-absorbed, was for a moment silent. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 271 
 
 while I agreed with Mrs. Norman. Then he said, 
 "And there s things in the sea no man ain t never 
 seen, nor never will. It s awful deep, the Bible 
 sea." 
 
 "Thank you," said Mrs. Norman as we rose. "I 
 have got some new ideas. Thank you." 
 
 "That s the good of talkin V said Tom, much de 
 lighted. "Come again." 
 
 No. I go to-morrow. 
 
 "Oh, you 11 come again," returned Tom confi 
 dently. 
 
 As we walked away, Mrs. Norman said, "Tom is 
 truly a delight, and to think of the vastness of the 
 Bible being like a great ocean. 
 
 "It was," I remarked, "a quite natural thought 
 for Tom." 
 
 "But to think of it also as a huge grab bag and 
 yet not in the least to feel the humor of it!" I was 
 aware that she felt with me the strangeness of this 
 lonely man s reflections so reverent and yet so re 
 mote from the ridiculous in their earnestness. 
 
 As we walked, some care had to be given to the 
 footsteps where rocks were slippery or where was 
 need to pick the way over rough stones, so that, as 
 we moved on, I was reminded of Norman s com 
 plaint. Thus there was but little chance to talk, 
 until the beach became easier. 
 
 Then I said, "I feared for you Tom s clumsy 
 frankness. He lives on the surface, so to speak. It 
 is hardly to be called frank, it is so simple." 
 
272 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Sherwood, the unnaturalness, the reserve 
 of our own social world is sometimes far more clumsy. 
 I mean about death. Plain outspokenness like this 
 man s would never hurt or even trouble me. I am far 
 past the suffering which mere words can bring." 
 
 "You are quite right," I said, "and the man who 
 uses the words is to be considered. Tom was, I hope, 
 all I promised?" 
 
 "Oh, more, far more. I have enjoyed the walk 
 and indeed I should like to hear Miss Euphemia and 
 Tom." 
 
 "You never will, but here is the camp and tea on 
 the rock." 
 
 "Ah, I am not sorry to go away, Mr. Sherwood, but 
 I shall miss these out-of-door people and the open- 
 air life and the new friends I am leaving. I can 
 not quite trust myself to say to you or even to Dr. 
 Heath what I would and never can say. I can talk 
 to Miss Euphemia but the dear lady weeps over me 
 and as I can not always cry, she brings me into a 
 condition of self-reproach because I am not to her 
 what she seems to think I should be. I have writ 
 ten you a note. I want a small added service." 
 
 "Anything I can do?" 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 "Tea, tea, my dear," called Euphemia. "We had 
 lingered on the top of the rise from the beach and now 
 joined them. Mrs. Norman of late made evident ef 
 forts to take a share in the easy chat at the meals she 
 now partook with us. She drank her tea, set down 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 273 
 
 her cup and remained quiet as the evening dusked 
 over a tranquil sea. At last she rose, saying she 
 had letters to write, and left us. 
 
 1 A very remarkable woman, that, said Heath, so 
 quiet, so self-contained/ 
 
 "Sometimes too much so," said Euphemia. 
 
 "No," said Heath. "You ask too much of human 
 nature. She must have lost any real affection in the 
 face of a life with a madman, and that was two years 
 ago." 
 
 "She may never have had affection," persisted 
 Euphemia, "never truly, or how could she be with 
 out any appearance of emotion and be so easily di 
 verted? It is too unhuman." 
 
 "It would have killed most women, Euphemia," I 
 said. "I can understand how one may have gone 
 through such a campaign of torture, such a trial of 
 courage, as leaves one a veteran no longer capable 
 of the distress which finds comfort or relief in vain 
 tears." 
 
 "You are quite right," remarked Harry. "She is 
 natural, Euphemia, and that surprises you." 
 
 "I do not agree with you or him. It is unnatural. 
 I should like to know what you really think, John." 
 
 "You have heard what I think. It is plain 
 enough." I was growing impatient and disliked the 
 discussion perhaps because Mrs. Norman was my 
 guest, perhaps because her reticence and self-control 
 were to my liking. Euphemia was apt to construct 
 for people she fancied a theoretical scheme of con- 
 
274 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 duct and when they did not live up to it began to 
 lose her too easily won sympathies. 
 
 Now she said, "Of course you don t really think. 
 What man would? I shall be anxious as to what 
 she will be or become. She is, or will be, a very 
 handsome woman and she is young. 
 
 "For heaven s sake, Euphemia," I said, "let the 
 poor thing alone. I fear I was rather cross. 
 
 Euphemia rose, put up her glasses and said, "I 
 like her, John. She could make anyone like her, but 
 I can not help wishing that she were more serious- 
 minded. She was laughing with Dodo yesterday 
 about some queer stone he calls a sweating rock, laugh 
 ing like a child. I was really troubled. What was 
 it about the rock that amused her?" 
 
 "Euphemial, this," murmured Heath. 
 
 "Well, Cousin," I said, "I at least am glad she can 
 laugh and be natural. Dodo says that in the South 
 the negro explains the origin of these sweating stones : 
 When Adam he done his first day s work, he just 
 sweated awful and when he sat down on a rock that 
 just sweated, too. All that kind of stones kept on 
 sweating ever since. 
 
 "I wonder," said Harry, "what inspired colored 
 preacher invented that explanation." 
 
 "How absurd!" said Euphemia. "Good night, 
 you have both been disagreeable. You are very 
 very I will not say what I think. Good night." 
 Heath signalled me with a smile as she sailed away, 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 275 
 
 for Euphemia reminded me now and then of a great 
 ship under sail. 
 
 "The cousin is well, not serene at times, " said 
 Heath. "Mrs. Norman has been through what would 
 wear out the honest emotionality of any but the 
 feeble. What I said was true." 
 
 "Yes, and just. I am sorry you are all leaving 
 me." 
 
 "And I but before I go let me say a pleasanter 
 word. You will like it, John. I had a letter to-day 
 from Baltimore. I am engaged to Miss Howard." 
 
 "What, to Lucy? Ah, that is indeed good news. 
 Have you told Euphemia?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then tell her. Let her think she is the first to 
 hear it." 
 
 Heath laughed. "Good advice that, and a kindly 
 ending to this strange month. I trust you will now 
 have an easier time and how well you are. When 
 shall you return home?" 
 
 "I shall stay here until the snows come. After 
 that, I do not know, but my city life is over. 
 
 That will be well. And now I must go and dress. 
 
 Our last camp dinner was not altogether a success, 
 although Dodo put forth not only his best culinary 
 skill, but had decorated the tent walls with the moose 
 wood foliage. In the summer its large leaves seem 
 to float in air on tendrils so delicate as to be almost 
 invisible at a little distance in the dark wood shadows. 
 
276 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Now the leaves of dark purple were spotted with 
 scarlet. 
 
 I had brought in some of the leaves one day 
 and as Mrs. Norman expressed pleasure and they 
 were new to her, our decoration was a little tribute 
 to my guest. As Mrs. Norman did not appear at 
 dinner and, as Dodo reported, ate very little, he 
 was doubly disappointed. Failure of appetite was 
 for Dodo a serious condition. We took care to praise 
 both the dinner and this display of autumnal color. 
 
 Heath exhausted his social resources reinforced by 
 a great happiness in amusing Euphemia, who was in 
 a very undivertible ill humor, because one of her 
 trunks could not be locked. Moreover, Mrs. Norman, 
 to whom I had long ago given a tent to herself, had 
 asked that she might be left alone this last evening. 
 She had in fact so excused herself to me as her host, 
 but Euphemia thought there would have been more 
 propriety in her also excusing herself to the older 
 woman. Why, did not appear to me. In fact, as 
 Heath said later in high good humor and in the con 
 fidence of the cigar hour, Cousin Euphemia was at 
 times so ingeniously cross that it became amusing. 
 When after dinner she made the novel declaration that 
 tobacco was unendurable, Heath followed her to her 
 tent. 
 
 He came back laughing, "I told her of my en 
 gagement. She hoped it would prove satisfactory. 
 Really, John, she said so, and why had I not told her 
 before? She supposed that of course I had told you 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 277 
 
 at once. Don t ask me how I got out of that, but I 
 did. Just now she is in a measure reassured. When 
 Euphemia is about to travel, the last day she becomes 
 intolerable." 
 
 "Yes, that is true. I suppose we all have our min 
 utes of discontent. I have, Harry." 
 
 Then he gave me one of the surprises he rarely 
 presents me with. "John Sherwood, this month in 
 camp with you has been one varied lesson to me in 
 the possibilities of what a man may do with himself. 
 You try to hide what you have done here for these 
 desolate coast people, these poor devils, the dead man, 
 and your generous recognition of an act of courage. 
 No don t stop me. I always defended you when 
 men said you were a hard master." 
 
 "I was." 
 
 ""Well, it may be so. God sent you one of those 
 chances, if you like, one of those choices, which He 
 offers to men. It has been in its results a lesson to 
 me. Oh, wait a little. If you could hear what our 
 poor Mrs. Norman says of your tact and kindness " 
 
 "Nonsense!" 
 
 "It is not nonsense. I go home, John, with a feel 
 ing the stronger for my new happiness, and feeling 
 that you have set me an example of what a man may 
 do to make himself more the man he has not been." 
 He rose, set a hand on each of my shoulders and said 
 gravely, "I thank you for this justification of my 
 friend. You have found yourself. Good night, John 
 Sherwood." He was gone. 
 
278 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I sat down, much moved. He was a reticent man, 
 credited with a rather cold manner, and even to me 
 had never before been so frankly affectionate in his 
 language. Like most men of our time of life, intent 
 on the varied business that occupied him and me, such 
 personal talk had been rare and brief. 
 
 I sat still thinking back over my life. Was I so 
 radically changed? Are there many ways of being 
 born again ? And the woman I was pleased to think 
 that she had gratefully recognized services so pleasant 
 to render and I knew that I should miss her. It was 
 near to eleven when Dodo brought me a note, Mrs. 
 Norman had given him for me. He had put it down 
 somewhere and forgotten it. It said: 
 
 Dear Mr. Sherwood: 
 
 I find it easier to write than to say what I want done. 
 My thanks you have, but there are two other matters with 
 which I must trouble you. I wish a simple stone with the 
 name and date set over Mr. Norman s grave. Kindly have 
 this done for me and let me know from someone my ma 
 terial debt. 
 
 I feel that I must write for your eye alone what I lacked 
 courage to say fully and which yet, in defense of my 
 womanhood, I must somehow deal with. 
 
 I must have seemed to you singularly unaffected by the 
 horrible tragedy of this summer. I was not crushed by it. 
 I was not even capable of appearing to be that which I 
 was not. A woman who for a year has lived in the be 
 lief that any night might bring death has exhausted her 
 power to fear and, too, her resources of sorrow. There 
 must be for the strong a reason for tears. I falter here 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 279 
 
 and see that I can write no more. I did mean to explain 
 to the master of the tent whose salt I have eaten what I 
 find I cannot. Just here is indeed where courage to write 
 freely of my own past life is quite beyond my power. I 
 meant to do it and can not perhaps ought not or know 
 ing you, need not. 
 
 Please to burn this incoherent letter and believe me, 
 Always very gratefully yours, 
 
 HELEN NORMAN. 
 
 P. S. I sent home long ago the official proofs of Mr. 
 Norman s death you were so kind as to procure for me. 
 His will I have seen and now the papers will enable me at 
 once to settle his affairs and fulfill an intention long con 
 sidered. H. N. 
 
 Seated in my tent late in the night, I read this 
 letter several times. I felt that now I knew or too 
 fully realized what a year of constant nearness to 
 death might mean. I had heard from Heath how 
 few men or women will steadily abide by this pledge 
 of "till death us do part/ 
 
 I suspected that Helen Norman had made a mar 
 riage in which the passions had no share. I could 
 read between the lines that duty, not love, made her 
 enduringly face death and resolutely search for the 
 man whom she knew to be so dangerous. I was re 
 minded of Cairns desire to explain the motives which 
 made him risk his life to save Hapworth. I wrote : 
 
 Dear Mrs. Norman: 
 
 Be at ease about us. You are in no danger of being in 
 any way misunderstood. It was a real pleasure to have 
 
280 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 been able to be of any use to you. I hope in happier days 
 to renew an acquaintance which has given me at least one 
 good thing, the chance to see and know you. 
 
 If any further evidence of the death of Mr. Norman be 
 needed, you must say to your legal adviser that I am at 
 your service. I will attend to the other matter. I under 
 stand that Mrs. Christian and Cairns are to use Mr. Nor 
 man s books and furniture as they please. That is well and 
 kind. 
 
 Heartily at your service, I am very sincerely yours, 
 
 JOHN SHERWOOD. 
 
 All our good neighbors were on the beach at ten 
 the next morning, Tom Dagett, the Christians and 
 Cairns. As I, the last, went down the rocks with 
 Mrs. Christian to a rather silent group already gath 
 ered on the shore, she said, Seems to me they re 
 right sorry to go, sir. Mrs. Norman, she s about the 
 most cheery of them. She has given all her hus 
 band s things away to Bob and me. There was n t 
 much, except chairs, tables and books. We just shut 
 up the house and left it. When I asked her what 
 she wanted to keep, she said, Nothing, nothing at 
 all/ I guess she d like to give away some of the 
 things she remembers." 
 
 "No doubt, " I said, "that would be a privilege." 
 "Can t give away that kind of property, can you?" 
 "No. But they are waiting for us." 
 Mrs. Norman shook hands with those she left with 
 a kindly word to each and soon they were out at sea. 
 My neighbors went to their homes, and I was left 
 alone at the close of a too memorable summer. 
 
XIV 
 
 WHEN they had gone I busied myself about 
 the camp or took to my exercise with an axe, 
 cutting firewood, for now the September nights were 
 cold and a camp fire pleasant at times. 
 
 It was near eleven when I closed my diary of the 
 day and sat down to let my mind wander over the 
 last two months. A large silence was on land and 
 sea. It is the hour of self-confession. Yes, it were 
 vain to deny that for the first time a woman in 
 terested me as none had ever done. With my 
 capacity to vizualize things once seen, I saw the child 
 like, innocent look of blue eyes that seemed without 
 record of disaster. The virginal curves of her slight 
 figure I saw and recalled the sense her presence 
 gave me of flowerlike delicacy and appealing fresh 
 ness. I thought of the amazing courage of dutiful 
 months unsustained by sacrificial love. Good Heav 
 ens! Never once had she spoken of her husband 
 otherwise than as Mr. Norman. I had no least in 
 decision as to this matter. Time must pass, much 
 time, before I could speak to her of the thought 
 never more to be long out of my mind, but ah, this 
 waiting on time and its chances! 
 
 I had settled that I would not run the risks of city 
 
 2S1 
 
282 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 life, and the winter loneliness of a camp I could not 
 face. I wanted, as never before, larger human inter 
 course. To be near Helen Norman now, to see her 
 with apparent mere friendliness, was not possible. I 
 should have shocked her with betrayals of the love of 
 an age which had too, the impatience of a man ac 
 customed to go straight to his purpose ; I would take 
 Dodo and go West and then around the world. 
 
 A letter from her two weeks later, about October 
 7, still further added knowledge of her character. 
 
 Dear Mr. Sherwood: 
 
 Someone has said that we remember better the pleasures 
 of life than its pain. Certainly much of the sad past you 
 know of seems to me like the fading memory of an evil 
 dream, while the healing wonder of sea and wood is re 
 called with grateful clearness. 
 
 Miss Euphemia writes to me much disturbed by what I 
 have done on my return in regard to Mr. Norman s prop 
 erty, all of which he left to me by a will made soon after 
 our marriage. She can not comprehend my motives as you, 
 I am hopefully sure, will do when I tell you that I have 
 given his whole estate to his two aunts, old maiden ladies, 
 with narrow means. An earthquake could not have sur 
 prised them more. They have always been far from 
 friendly, but I was amused that they seemed to feel in 
 dignant at my desire to retain nothing that had belonged 
 to Mr. Norman s family. They were bound to express 
 gratitude, of course. They expressed it in rather unusual 
 forms; but really human nature is very interesting. 
 
 My lawyer was hard to convince that I was in earnest. 
 My friends are the more amazed because I will not explain 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 283 
 
 why I am doing so mad a thing. I did what I had to do 
 and if it is considered eccentric, I continue to feel no need 
 and surely no desire to defend my action. Only Lucy 
 Howard, who knows what my life has been, had the kind 
 insight which needed no explanation. I simply could not 
 keep that money. 
 
 I certainly should not have ventured to write to you of 
 this matter, were it not that it excites much comment and 
 that you may hear of it from others. And so the guest you 
 have probably by this time ceased to remember as other 
 than one to whom you were the good Samaritan prefers to 
 tell her own story. Miss Euphemia is sure to criticize my 
 action and is certain to write of it to you. 
 
 I must for a time fly from my friends and go abroad, 
 and please not to think me eccentric. I never did a more 
 merely commonsense thing than what I am now blamed for. 
 
 I have so set before Miss Swanwick the charm of a 
 winter in Rome that she has at last yielded to my desire, and 
 we sail October 10, to be gone at least a year. This will 
 surprise you. A friend of a near friend of yours, says I 
 write zigzaggy letters. You will pardon me, but I think I 
 have said what I wished to say. 
 
 Ever thankfully yours, 
 
 HELEN NORMAN. 
 
 I am by no means beggared and with her income and 
 mine we shall do very well. 
 
 I sat down that evening to thank Mrs. Norman for 
 the desire she expressed that I should not misunder 
 stand the unusual act which so excited my cousin. 
 For the first time in my life I felt the need to set 
 some guard on my words. The letter I sent at last 
 
284 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 was so formal that although regretting its stiffness 
 and the feeling that its reserve was almost discour 
 teous, I could not venture to better it. 
 By the same mail I heard from Euphemia. 
 
 Dear John: 
 
 Helen Norman is here with me for a day or two in order 
 to arrange this business of going to Europe. I am prepar 
 ing my mind for it with some difficulty. I could not have 
 yielded to Helen s wish if I had not felt that it was a duty, 
 a religious duty, to take this wounded soul into the spiritual 
 atmosphere of Rome. There I trust she will secure that 
 true peace and resignation which I am sure she needs, but 
 of which she shows no outward evidence. If she were not 
 now so pretty and so unexpectedly attractive to men, I 
 should have more hope that she would turn whither alone 
 consolation is assured, in the bosom of the Church. 
 
 Harry Heath would be delighted with these Eu- 
 phemial views on good looks as obstacles to piety. 
 
 I was too late to avert an act of incomprehensible folly, 
 in her turning over all of her husband s fortune to his two 
 old maiden aunts. She should have felt that it was the 
 only reparation he could make her. Could not something 
 be done to convince these women, his aunts, that they had 
 acted with undue haste in accepting her gift? 
 
 "Oh, Euphemia!" I gasped. "Are for you things 
 done and ended never done?" 
 I read on, 
 
 She laughed, John, like a child, when I wanted her to 
 reopen the matter. Is it really hopeless? 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 285 
 
 There was more of it, and where was I going? 
 Could not I join them in Rome, etc. I replied that 
 I had other plans and, making no comment on Mrs. 
 Norman s letter, sent my cousin an ample cheque to 
 make things easier when in Europe. 
 
 Mrs. Norman had gone back to Baltimore, when, 
 after a few days at home with Euphemia, Dodo and 
 I left for San Francisco. I could have done no better 
 thing. Of my unlooked-for pleasure in this tour, I 
 say nothing. Euphemia wrote of great happiness in 
 Italy, but I had rare and only formal answers from 
 Helen Norman, to whom I wrote now and then im 
 personal letters of what I saw in travel. She seemed 
 to me to be getting further and further from the 
 intimacies of our camp life. It puzzled me more 
 than it would have done a man versed in the ways 
 of women. Now and then she sent me a pleasant 
 message in Euphemia s more frequent letters. 
 
 A year and a half went by and, returning late 
 in May, I learned from Euphemia s letters that they 
 would be at home early in July. Mrs. Norman was 
 to be for a few days with Euphemia before they fled 
 from the heat of the city. I would see them and be 
 able to settle them in some seaside cottage if they 
 were so minded. I meant then to do, I knew not 
 what, certainly to be much with Helen Norman, con 
 cerning whom I felt a new timidity quite foreign to 
 my usual mood when about to approach any of the 
 difficulties of life. 
 
286 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 I had been gone some eighteen months and as sev 
 eral weeks must go by before their return, I re 
 solved, to Dodo s satisfaction, to spend the interval in 
 Camp Retreat. I little knew what problems awaited 
 me. No schoolboy could have more joyously returned 
 home. I had had enough of travel, and now to lie 
 on the rock that afternoon of my arrival with a pipe 
 and Dodo s perfect after-dinner coffee was for the 
 hour to ask no more of life. 
 
 A delayed letter from Euphemia found at Belport 
 somewhat unsettled me. Euphemia wrote that they 
 were both travel weary and had given up their con 
 templated tour among the "desecrated Cathedrals" 
 of England. This change of plan would, as I saw 
 from the date, bring them back before the letter I 
 read reached me in my camp. It was by no means 
 bad news and might take me home again long before 
 I had meant to return. 
 
 I was just trying to recall the lines The Evening 
 Star with growing splendor mocked the dying Sun 
 and heralded the gathering host of heaven when, 
 hearing a footfall, I turned from the sea and saw 
 Mrs. Christian as she said, "Now this is right nice 
 to see you here again. " Thus, ignorant of what 
 they carry, the postman of fate comes upon us. 
 
 I said, "Take a seat. Will you have coffee?" 
 
 "No, indeed. I don t want to keep company with 
 Caressa Christian all night. I get enough of her by 
 day." 
 
 "Tea, then? Tea, Dodo." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 287 
 
 "Well, that s better. I m a grandmother. Had 
 to run to tell you a boy John Sherwood Cairns." 
 
 "Indeed, and is all well? I am much honored." 
 
 "Oh, the baby is that, sir. There s another thing. 
 It s not as important as the baby. Is n t it dread 
 ful the way people lose their importance after they 
 quit being babies?" 
 
 I agreed to this obvious statement "and what is 
 the other thing?" 
 
 "Oh, when Mrs. Norman was going away why, 
 that s nigh along to two years she told me all the 
 furniture in her husband s cabin was to be for 
 Cairns and Susan. Some of it was right nice, like 
 brass firedogs and silver-plated candle sticks Mr. 
 Norman found in Belport. When we were to move 
 things I came on a tin box of papers. I didn t look 
 at them, that being none of my business. 
 
 "Certainly not. You were quite right. Some 
 more tea, Dodo. What did you do?" I was becom 
 ing mildly interested. 
 
 "Susan, she said, Just burn up the papers. Mrs. 
 Norman would be glad never to hear of that poor 
 man s belongings. It was true, Mr. Sherwood, she 
 did say to me, Burn what you don t want. She 
 wouldn t say another word, but just, I don t want 
 anything. " 
 
 "Well, of course you kept the box?" 
 
 "Yes. I was much of Susan s mind, but men 
 somehow feel to keep papers like they was sacred 
 things, and Peter said, Send that box to Mrs. Nor- 
 
288 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 man/ How could I and she in Europe. Cairns ad 
 vised to keep it till she got back and now here you 
 are, and I just fetched the box for you to send it. 
 It s in your tent." 
 
 I did not much fancy the business thus put in my 
 care and was for a moment silent when Mrs. Chris 
 tian said, "You don t like it now, me neither. She 11 
 hate it." 
 
 "I do not like it but I will think what is best to be 
 done." 
 
 "Well, it s relieving to have you look after it." 
 
 1 1 1 will. How are Cairns and Peter ? 
 
 "They re all right, and the mill s making money. 
 I forgot to tell you we found a miniature of Mrs. 
 Norman. It wasn t in the box but just lying on the 
 table. You d hardly know it for her the way she 
 looked when she was here. I left it on top of the 
 box. Bob Cairns will be here to see you to-morrow. 
 Got to go. Good-bye." 
 
 She went away and the last peace of many days 
 fell on my untroubled soul. 
 
 Late in the night, I laid aside a lightly considered 
 book and remembered the tin box and miniature. 
 The miniature lay on the box. This, at least, I might 
 look at. It was in an open gold setting and on the 
 back was engraved on the mounting, "Helen May- 
 nard, Mi. 25, Florence." It was not Helen Norman 
 and that I liked. I sat still looking through the open 
 tent at the leaping white caps on the dark ocean. 
 Something, as I studied the young face, something 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 289 
 
 like vague jealousy of the dead man, came over me. 
 Oh, to have known her earlier: and then came the 
 honest thought that it was not only her personal 
 charm which won my sudden love, but also her cour 
 age and high-minded conduct in the face of constant 
 peril, the sense of duty with which another duty had 
 burdened her. 
 
 "No," I murmured, "you never loved that man. 
 You were always Helen Maynard." 
 
 I was to decide what to do with the box. I was 
 clear as to what to do, but not how to do it. I, of 
 course, could not look at the dead man s papers; only 
 Helen Norman could do that. With every instinct 
 of love in revolt, I was averse to asking Mrs. Norman 
 directly what she wished done with this box. I re 
 solved at last to write to Euphemia and eager to be 
 done with it, I wrote at once. 
 
 Dear Cousin: 
 
 Among Mr. Norman s effects Mrs. Christian found a tin 
 box of papers which she kept until Mrs. Norman s return. 
 Not knowing what to do with it she brings it to me. Mrs. 
 Christian says it contains papers which she did not read. 
 Of course I do not. Will you ask Mrs. Norman what I am 
 to do with it. It is an unpleasant business for her, a ma 
 terial resurrection of a miserable past. 
 
 Yours always, 
 
 JOHN SHERWOOD. 
 Camp Retreat, June . . . ? 
 
 On the fifth day I heard in reply. 
 
290 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Dear John: 
 
 Helen is here for a fortnight. The Atlantic was at its 
 wicked worst and we are glad of a rest. When I asked 
 Helen what you were to do with the box of papers, she 
 showed an amount of emotion which amazed me. I never 
 supposed she cared for that man enough to be moved by 
 a thing like this. She was pretty near a fit of hysterics 
 when I said, "Control yourself, my dear child." 
 
 She broke out of a sudden with, "Tell Mr. Sherwood to 
 open the box. If there are any things I must see, then I 
 must. Tell him he is at liberty to read whatever there is, 
 at full liberty. Ask him to burn what is of no value. I 
 never want to hear of it again." 
 
 "But," I said, "would it not be better to have him send 
 you the box?" 
 
 She cried out, "No, No. This ends it. I hope to hear no 
 more of it. Tell him what I say. He will understand. 
 No one else understands me." What she meant by this, I 
 do not know. I felt hurt. She got up and left the room. 
 That is all. I did hope she had forgotten that wretched 
 man. It seems not. Yours always, 
 
 EUPHEMIA SWANWICK. 
 
 I was thus not only set at liberty to learn the con 
 tents of the box I had set on the table beside me, 
 but knew that I was desired to save her a task she 
 was not willing to undertake. 
 
 And so "I alone understood her." 
 
 The confidence reposed in a man of whom she had 
 seen so little touched me. It would have been for her 
 a miserable business; for me it was of itself of small 
 moment. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 291 
 
 I laid down my pipe and opened the box. It was, 
 as one might have expected, full of a tumbled mass 
 of paid bills, a few insane verses such as I had found 
 at the spring, some even better, some very wild, a half- 
 finished sermon and a diary with no entries. I found 
 also a cheque book with a credit of two thousand dol 
 lars on the county bank. Then I came on a revolver 
 and felt glad indeed that Helen Norman had not had 
 the courage to examine these papers. I walked to 
 the cliff and threw the weapon far out into the sea. 
 
 When I returned to my tent and the box, I discov 
 ered little else than a package of garden seeds and 
 what seemed to be memoranda of sales of stocks. 
 
 The last paper, now the only one left, was a blank 
 envelope not sealed. 
 
 I was startled as I unfolded the sheet of paper 
 thus covered. It was a holograph will, that is all 
 of it was in Norman s writing, dated, as I saw be 
 low, about four months after he had come to live on 
 my land. As I turned to the top of the sheet to read 
 it, I had a prevision of disaster. It ran thus : 
 
 I, Benedict Norman, being of sound mind and disposing 
 capacity, do give and bequeath to my aunts, Sarah Wilson 
 and Harriet Wilson, two hundred thousand dollars to be be 
 tween them equally divided. Also I give the residue of my 
 estate, fifty thousand dollars more or less, to the Baltimore 
 City Hospital in loving memory of my mother, Lucy El- 
 wood Norman. 
 
 I believe my wife, Helen Norman, to have been rightly 
 sent to the bar of God s justice by my hand. But as I am 
 
292 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 at times in doubt as concerns her having survived, I here 
 solemnly state that she has not been remembered in this 
 my will because I have proof that she was unfaithful to 
 her marriage vows. That I be not misjudged of men, I 
 name as her partner in guilt Henry Heath, a doctor of 
 medicine. 
 
 BENEDICT NORMAN. 
 May seventh, 1889. 
 
 There were no witnesses. 
 
 I fell back in my chair appalled. Here again was 
 the delusion out of which arose the desire to kill 
 Heath and his wife. He was under the despotic 
 power of a belief which drove him to take the prim 
 itive man s vengeance for the ultimate human wrong. 
 What a legacy of enduring revenge he had left in 
 case of his death. 
 
 I read it again. The whole picture of the man s 
 tormented nature was here, the belief that he had 
 murdered, the recurrent belief that he had not, the 
 legacy of hate, a wretched business. Had he for 
 gotten this will as time ran on and that made soon 
 after his marriage? Had he meant to burn this last 
 will when unluckily Dodo had saved it? Who could 
 say? At all events, here it was to arouse new ques 
 tions. This delusion must have begun soon after their 
 marriage. I recalled what Heath had said of his cor 
 respondence with her and of Norman s abrupt letter. 
 Then I took myself in hand and forced myself coldly 
 to consider the will and the serious needs which it 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 293 
 
 suggested. More and more the horrible nature of 
 the business thrown on my hands troubled me. 
 
 At last I rose and moved mechanically until I 
 stood on the rock, that fateful paper in my hand. I 
 alone knew of it. I alone would ever know. What 
 if I tore this slander to pieces and let it fall into the 
 murmuring sea below me, the confidant of so many 
 tragic secrets since time began? What saving 
 respect was due to a dead man s will, venomous with 
 this cruel charge of adultery ? My God ! This pure, 
 childlike woman, so gentle and so brave! The man, 
 my friend, as clean and upright a nature as earth 
 affords, sensitive to the least slur upon his honor and 
 now for a year married to a woman of the best ! 
 
 What ought I to do ? I was in the very agony of a 
 temptation intensified by love. I looked up to 
 heaven in dumb appeal. Prayer, lost to me since 
 youth, had become of late a habit. The woods and 
 the sea, the counsels of renewed health had spoken 
 and I had not heard in vain. I stood still in the 
 darkness, praying to be guided. 
 
 As I rose, Mike s cool nose touched my hand. He 
 had been left far away at the mill and had found his 
 way back to his master. He did not, as usual, bark 
 joyously, but looked up in wonder at my failure to 
 welcome his return. He followed me to the tent, 
 where I sat down and reread that accursed paper. I 
 caressed the dog carelessly as he set his paws on my 
 knees. 
 
294 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 Ah, Mike, what shall I do? I can not burn it. 
 Must it be allowed to become public property and 
 leave on two stainless lives the horror of newspaper 
 comments ? Alas ! 
 
 To discuss it aloud with this speechless confessor 
 seemed to clear my head and set aside the tempting 
 counsels of affection and friendship. Mike whined. 
 
 1 Yes, I do not know, old fellow. You see she has 
 given away all that money, all; but there is the hos 
 pital. I will not tell Harry Heath until I am 
 obliged to do so. She must see this will. I, horrible 
 thought, must show it to her, all of it; no other 
 course is to be considered as possible. 
 
 Mike whined and barked. I put him aside with an 
 impatient word. He looked up at me, reproach in 
 his gold-irised eyes. Was this my welcome after so 
 long an absence? At the end of his patience, he re 
 sorted to his final customary means of attracting 
 notice. He went to the corner of the tent and did all 
 the tricks Dodo had taught him, stood on his head, 
 played dead, and walked on his hind legs. I called 
 him. 
 
 "Mike," I said, "you at least have no cares. She 
 must know it all. O God, help her and me. Ah, the 
 dear gallant lady, so tender, alas, and so brave." 
 
 I had decided. I dropped on the floor and rolled 
 over in a joyful tussle with Mike, laughing, yes, 
 laughing, strangely relieved by my decision. 
 
 Then I went out again and won fresh serenity of 
 mind as I looked up at the stars and felt that He, 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 295 
 
 who set and kept them in their mighty paths, would 
 find for me and the woman I loved a way to do the 
 right thing. I went to bed and slept a dreamless 
 sleep. 
 
 I awakened, thinking what I should say to her, 
 how approach it. The hour and her face should 
 counsel me. I set it aside and told Dodo that I was 
 called home and must shortly leave. Except the 
 miniature, the will and the bank book, I burned all of 
 Norman s papers. 
 
 I was in haste to get done with a question to which, 
 so far, I had no answer. I told Dodo to hurry things 
 and left with Christian the care of the camp. 
 
 II Anything the matter, sir?" asked Dodo. "Miss 
 Phemy got home?" 
 
 "Yes. I must be at Belport by noon to-morrow. 
 "What the deuce amuses you?" He was showing his 
 white teeth in a broad grin. 
 
 "Nothing, sir." 
 
 * Then you are easily amused. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Cairns came over later and discussed the mill and 
 the baby. In the afternoon to fill an hour with other 
 thought, I called Mike and strolled up the beach, en 
 joying his continuous feud with the waves. He was 
 wildly leaping forward when they fell back and 
 growling in retreat before their return. At last, 
 there was Dagett, as usual, repairing lobster traps. 
 
 "Well," he cried, "it s good to see you again." 
 As always he fell to talk of the sea. "Them lobster 
 
296 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 pots do get wracked mighty easy. It s awful tryin 
 to my soul. I get impatient with the Lord s doin s 
 with the pots and nets." 
 
 " There are worse things to deal with in this life, 
 harder to mend." 
 
 "Not for folks like you, sir. It s just to pay and 
 someone else attends to the business. 
 
 "Money won t doctor all our hurts, Tom." 
 
 "No, sir, but there s God; and time s awful help 
 ful. Not even prayer will mend my nets. I hope 
 you ain t in any trouble. There s them on these 
 coasts would be sorry. Then he added, with his us 
 ual frankness, "What s happened?" 
 
 "Nothing I care to talk about." 
 
 "When talkin to people don t help things, talkin 
 to God does. You never can tell what He 11 say or 
 do. Prayin ain t so immediate helpful as some folks 
 expect, but when a man gets up off his knees and feels 
 to be better, his prayer s a kind of answered. 
 
 We were of one mind, this lonely fisherman with his 
 material difficulties and I with my larger problems. 
 I said, "Yes, yes," in a thoughtful way and shifted 
 a too intimate talk on to other matters, glad to speak 
 of Cairns and the coast people. 
 
 "How is Mrs. Norman?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, well. Very well." 
 
 "She s young, and time s a good friend, and it 
 was n t as bad as if he had lived." 
 
 "Yes," I said, "it was for her and for him merci 
 ful." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 297 
 
 "It was queer, too," remarked Tom. "Now, 
 wasn t it queer? That man was kind of religious. 
 Seemed like he was two or three people." 
 
 "I am," I said, laughing. 
 
 "Well, sir, hope you 11 hold on to the man I ve 
 knowed you for. I ve had some experience in the 
 ways of females. Mrs. Norman, she 11 get a better 
 man some day." 
 
 I turned to go, saying, "I hope so." 
 
 "Some man like you," said Tom. 
 
 "Oh, stuff and nonsense!" 
 
 "Her man was what we folks call a simple, had n t 
 no horse sense. Bible says, The Lord preserveth the 
 simple and one way is death. That s mighty pre- 
 servin . 
 
 Amused at his queer statement of the ways of 
 Providence, I strolled back to camp, thinking of Helen 
 Norman. 
 
XV 
 
 ON my homeward journey I reconsidered the 
 questions put to me by conscience, duty and 
 affection. I found no other answer than I had found 
 in camp. 
 
 I was still troubled and without any happier de 
 cision when I stood on the familiar doorstep of the 
 little house in Pine Street and hesitated a moment 
 before I rang the bell. There was a hearty welcome 
 from my grey-headed nurse, and I found Euphemia 
 as usual in the little drawing-room, what we still 
 called the parlor, hemming handkerchiefs as of old. 
 Her stay abroad had been of service, and I could 
 say with truth that she seemed to have dropped off 
 some years. 
 
 When, at last, she wondered why I had left my 
 cool camp to welcome an old woman, I was well aware 
 ,that she was becoming curious. I made haste to 
 multiply reasons for my return, and mentioned in 
 a casual way that I had found among Norman s 
 effects some business papers requiring consideration 
 by Mrs. Norman, and perhaps legal advice. She was 
 at once interested. 
 
 "John," she said, "I hope it concerns her folly in 
 
 298 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 299 
 
 giving Norman s property away no one knows 
 why." 
 
 "It does not," I replied; "that is an affair of 
 nearly two years ago. It is dead and buried." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I suppose so. But to think of it, John, 
 and she will not give any reason." 
 
 Euphemia, who gave lavishly to charities and her 
 church, had in her youth suffered so much from pov 
 erty that money, property in bulk, assumed for her 
 values which had clearly no such place in the nature 
 of Helen Norman, nor had the younger woman been 
 at pains to defend her unworldly action. 
 
 "She is sometimes very disappointing," continued 
 my cousin sadly. "I did not find, John, that she 
 found in Rome what I did. Perhaps she may have 
 been there with her husband." 
 
 "Possibly," said I, hating the discussion, all of 
 it, "possibly." 
 
 "Oh, probably," returned Euphemia. "She was 
 now and then depressed, far more than at the time 
 of her husband s death. I always said her sorrow 
 would deepen with time. Sometimes I fancied that 
 it was regret at her foolishness in depriving herself 
 of property in such a hasty way. At first, long ago, 
 I did think something might be done about it. I 
 spoke to you then of it." 
 
 "You did," I said curtly. "I thought we were 
 done with it. Why bring it up again ? It is neither 
 your business nor mine." 
 
300 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "But it is most lamentable, John, most lament 
 able. " 
 
 I was so well acquainted with my cousin s ways 
 that now as she spoke I had an unpleasant suspicion 
 that she had at some time been more immediately 
 meddling with Mrs. Norman s affairs. I said 
 sharply, "Euphemia, have you been at any time in 
 terfering in this business?" 
 
 "No, I have not, John." Then she hesitated and 
 added, "Not directly." 
 
 How then ? How indirectly ? 
 
 "Only by a letter, but not lately." 
 
 "Not really! You don t mean you wrote to her 
 husband s aunts!" 
 
 "I did, but it was such a short letter." 
 
 "You are really inconceivable. And pray, what 
 did you say?" 
 
 "Oh, I kept a copy. You know, John, how ac 
 curate I am in matters of business." A more hope 
 lessly inaccurate person I never knew. 
 
 "Let me see that letter, your copy." 
 
 She hesitated, and then said, "I will, I will, but 
 it was really long ago. 
 
 "Let me see it now. I will wait. Let me see it." 
 I was vexed and anxious. Well might Heath say 
 that she had a moderate amount of intellect, but 
 neither intelligence nor common sense. 
 
 She left me and in a few minutes returned. 
 
 "I can t find it," she said. "I have mislaid it." 
 I was certain that she was fibbing. "Perhaps to- 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 301 
 
 morrow, John." I was sure never to see that 
 letter. 
 
 I asked, "Did Mrs. Norman know of your inter 
 ference ? 
 
 "Of course not, but " 
 
 "Well, no matter. Did you get an answer?" 
 
 "I did, most discourteous, most unpleasant. You 
 will sympathize with me. Here it is." 
 
 Here it was, indeed, with a date of over a year ago. 
 
 Madam : 
 
 The young woman who made our nephew s life so miser 
 able has seen fit to return to his family the property which 
 he left to her before he came to understand her true char 
 acter. We are indisposed to dwell upon the matter what 
 you have to do with it we cannot conceive. 
 
 SARAH AND HARRIET WILSON. 
 
 I was troubled. Did these old fools believe his de 
 lusions as to his wife s dishonor? How freely had 
 he talked, and then had he named Heath? 
 
 "Oh, Euphemia," I exclaimed, "how could you!" 
 "But, John, it was ever so long ago." 
 I put the letter in my pocket, meaning to destroy 
 it, sure now that in no way must these women be 
 brought personally into the case. 
 "John, give me that letter." 
 
 No. You may have again made mischief. I shall 
 burn it. Once before you came near to costing her 
 life. You should have let alone what was none of 
 your business." 
 
302 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "But I want Helen to see it. I want her to feel 
 that I" 
 
 "Euphemia, if you ever speak of it to her, I shall 
 never forgive you. Promise me." 
 
 "I do, I do, but I am quite unable to see how it 
 concerns you." 
 
 "It does, Euphemia, but I will not discuss it 
 further. Promise me." 
 
 "Helen should have consulted me, oh or someone. 
 But I promise ! and for a wonder she kept her word, 
 or at least that is my belief. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Norman in?" I asked. "I must see her 
 about these papers and about a little balance Norman 
 left in the bank at Belport." 
 
 "Yes, she is in. I will call her. You won t men 
 tion it to her, John, about my letter, I mean." 
 
 "Hardly." 
 
 Left alone, I reflected that under no circumstances 
 must there be any appeal to the aunts concerning the 
 hospital. It should be, must be, discussed by us, but 
 with no reference to this letter or its implications. 
 So far, Euphemia s meddling had had its value. 
 
 Then Helen Norman entered, another Helen ! She 
 came swiftly from the back room, radiant, giving me 
 both hands of frank welcome. 
 
 Euphemia said you would come. But why in this 
 maddening heat should you leave that cool camp to 
 come and visit us? I told Euphemia, when she said 
 you would be sure to come at once to see her, that she 
 was a brevet mother and expected too much of men. 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 303 
 
 She keeps the spillikins you made and I think puts 
 them next in value to a precious relic of one of her 
 many saints. I love her too well to make merry over 
 the comic corners of her religion." 
 
 Mrs. Norman was talking fast, a little disconnect 
 edly, but showing no embarrassment before a man 
 who had met her last in the forced intimacies of an 
 unusual and painful situation. 
 
 "You are right, but I have no doubt that the ways 
 what you call the corners of any, perhaps of 
 every, sect may have their amusing aspects for the 
 outsiders of other creeds. There is Mrs. Christian 
 and Tom Dagett." 
 
 "Yes, that quaintly wise creature, and Mike who 
 believes in one divinity, John Sherwood. How is 
 Mike, the golden-eyed Mike?" 
 
 1 Oh, well, I said. Very well. " I was recalled 
 by his name to the remembrance of that last night in 
 camp and its bewildering problems. 
 
 Mrs. Norman s eyes, those childlike blue eyes of ap 
 peal, troubled me. "I hope *that Susan is well and 
 Cairns." 
 
 "Yes, all is as one could desire and there is a small 
 John Sherwood Cairns. I believe that you are to be 
 the godmother or some Baptist substitute for such an 
 office." 
 
 Then she said, smiling, "It will be at a distance. 
 What else is there?" Ah, these intuitive perceptions 
 of women. "There is something else?" 
 
 "Yes, there is." 
 
304 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "Then tell me. You look grave. What is it? 
 Nothing can happen to trouble me now. I have ex 
 hausted the possible calamities of life. There is some 
 thing over which you hesitate. Once I said to you I 
 was not a woman to be prepared, as people say, for 
 bad news. What is it?" 
 
 1 Mrs. Norman, it is you and you alone who brought 
 me here. Among Mr. Norman s effects was a tin 
 box full of unimportant papers which Mrs. Christian, 
 with her good sense, did not read, but thought I might 
 be a proper person to consider, or you if I thought 
 best. I asked Euphemia to to tell you and give 
 you a choice " 
 
 "Thank you. I am sure you understood me. I 
 sent you word. But there is something you hesitate 
 to tell me?" 
 
 "Yes. Among these papers I found a holograph 
 will, that is, a will all in Mr. Norman s handwriting. 
 She listened intent. "It is dated some months after 
 he settled on my land. At whatever pain it may 
 cost, you must see it. Then as as your friend, we 
 must consider what is to be done. There are ques 
 tions I could not decide without you." 
 
 "Give it to me." 
 
 I did. She read the first paragraph and looked 
 up. "But it is all left to his aunts. Why, they have 
 the money now." 
 
 "Go on, "I said. 
 
 "Ah, the hospital. That is serious, but " and she 
 paused, "there is a way." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 305 
 
 "Go on," I said. She read the brutal charge at 
 the close. "Oh, my God!" she cried. The paper 
 fell to the floor. She grew deathly pale and then 
 flushing scarlet, said a characteristic thing, "Poor 
 Dr. Heath, and my dear Lucy Howard!" Not a 
 word of herself. 
 
 They at least will never know, I said, as I picked 
 up the will. "They never shall know. I would 
 have saved you too this horror had it been possible. 
 I saw no way to save you. But remember that I, 
 your friend, put at your service all of resolution, 
 courage and resource I have with such power as 
 wealth can give. Let us consider what is to be done. 
 One courage I lacked. I wanted to burn this will." 
 
 "No," she said, "a dead man s will. You were 
 right. You, at least, should not. But, what is to be 
 done ? What is to be done ? 
 
 "I have learned that a holograph will, dated, with 
 out witnesses, is good to-day in Maryland. If we 
 turned this over to probate, its validity would de 
 pend on proof of the writer having been of sound 
 mind when he wrote it, and the gifts made, taken 
 alone, are sane enough? Would the aunts give the 
 hospital that fifty thousand dollars?" 
 
 I was now sure they would not, but felt I must 
 let the matter be discussed naturally. "These 
 women could reasonably be asked to give it as a 
 memorial, but you would have to explain yourself by 
 showing this paper. Would that be wise?" 
 
 "No, neither wise nor of any use. The condition 
 
306 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 of their minds is very strange. I mean about what I 
 gave. They were blindly devoted to Mr. Norman and 
 were furious when my legal adviser and I and my 
 friends put him in an asylum. They took his money, 
 but talked of it as an insult to the memory of a man 
 I had ill treated and as the gift of a remorseful 
 woman. Can you imagine that? They would do 
 nothing about the hospital unless they saw the will. 
 And even then if they did see it they would be sure to 
 believe this awful charge and talk. I know them far 
 too well. If the will were to be made public, they 
 would fight it bitterly." 
 
 "Yes," I said; "if you are right about them they 
 would stand on the first will and on your ownership 
 and resist the claim of the hospital that he was at the 
 time of this later will sane." 
 
 "But suppose, Mr. Sherwood, I myself quietly gave 
 this sum to the hospital. The intention of the will 
 would thus be practically fulfilled, after which I 
 would" 
 
 "Pardon me, but what would you have left?" 
 
 "About twenty-five thousand dollars. That is of 
 no moment. I want to defend your friend and mine, 
 Lucy Howard. Money, what is money? It is noth 
 ing. If this will went into the courts and was dis 
 cussed by the newspapers, I should die of shame. 
 How too could he be proved to have been at this later 
 date insane and would even proof of his insanity help 
 your friend or me? There always would be this 
 cruel charge." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 307 
 
 This was true. "For you," I said, "to send this 
 money to the hospital as an anonymous gift merely 
 to get out of an unendurable position would not help 
 you. There would still be the will which meant it to 
 be a loving memorial for his mother. Would you 
 give it in that form?" 
 
 "No, I could not. I would not. I do not want to 
 in that form. Oh, it is dreadful!" 
 
 "Let me think it over. No one knows of this but 
 you and me. I will see you to-morrow, no, in two 
 days. You must wait patiently." 
 
 "It is long to wait." 
 
 I put the will in my pocket, she saying as I rose, 
 "Mr. Sherwood, I leave this to you. I am sure you 
 will find a way for me to do what is right. Thank 
 you. Come early, at ten in the morning. I shall try 
 to be patient. Euphemia will be out at that hour." 
 
 I went back to the apartments I had kept through 
 out my long absences. I dressed, dined with Heath 
 and his wife and was resolute that they should never 
 know of this will. That night I sat down alone to 
 think over this difficult situation. 
 
 If the conditions of an insane man s testament 
 could be fulfilled without obedience to the legal forms, 
 did the moral law of good citizenship demand such 
 strictness of conduct as would result in the publicity 
 of the courts and the publication of one of those 
 slanders which have such vitality of evil. I did not 
 mean it should be. Then I saw a way. I was as 
 usual decisive and readily arranged matters to my 
 
308 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 own satisfaction, whether to hers or not I was yet to 
 learn. 
 
 "Euphemia is in," said Mrs. Norman, as we sat 
 down, "but I told her you had undertaken to settle 
 for me some business matters." 
 
 "Did this satisfy her?" 
 
 "No, it did not," and I was glad that she could 
 smile, but you know her. Now you have been think 
 ing, I trust to some purpose. I too, have been think 
 ing all night and to no purpose. I got this far. I 
 am a woman alone in the world, without any near 
 kindred to feel and suffer. If I alone were involved, 
 I would boldly face this matter and let this last will 
 be fought over by two greedy old women and the 
 hospital. Let me see it again." 
 
 She read it with quiet attention and laid it aside 
 on a table. 
 
 "No, I can not. It gets worse the more I think 
 of it. If I had found this will, I would have burned 
 it, but now you have seen it. It carries for you cer 
 tain responsibilities which I have to consider. To 
 give it to me would be to destroy it. Oh, I have 
 thought about it," she continued, "and that un 
 happily you too are to be considered. Ah, if I had 
 been less of a coward and had had that box sent to 
 me, neither you nor anyone else would have seen 
 this slander." 
 
 She spoke more and more rapidly as she went on, 
 evidently under the control of almost overmastering 
 emotion. "But now is your friend and mine to be 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 309 
 
 cursed in the dearest days of life by an insane man s 
 action, and would it be looked upon by everyone as 
 only the product of a sick mind? It is too devilish. 
 Was ever such a calamity ! She paused. 
 
 "Mr. Sherwood, you must excuse me. I had come 
 to think that nothing worse could happen to me than 
 what I had been able to bear with courage, but this 
 this ! You said you were my friend. You said 
 you would think about it " 
 
 It was time that she ceased to set free emotion in 
 speech. Even with my small knowledge of women it 
 was plain to me that she was near to some physical 
 disaster. As she ceased to speak, she looked up at 
 me with those troubled, overfull eyes of childlike 
 appeal. 
 
 I said, as quietly as possible, "Mrs. Norman, I 
 have, as I promised, given this matter all the thought 
 it requires. But before I tell you my conclusions I 
 want once more to know what you can do or cannot. 
 My own embarrassment as to this paper was is in my 
 sense of duty to the law. I am now considering this 
 thing, as you must, calmly. What can you do?" 
 
 She was more quiet, more thoughtful and was in 
 tently listening. 
 
 "These aunts," I said, further, "have already 
 what he meant to give?" 
 
 "Yes, but go on." 
 
 "You assured me that you could not give to the 
 hospital as Mr. Norman s memorial, the amount the 
 will leaves. You said I would understand why you 
 
310 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 could not. I was not quite clear as to your mean 
 ing." 
 
 I could give but not in the terms his will de- 
 
 i ( 
 
 "But that would not fulfill the wish of a loving 
 memorial to his mother. Whatever is sane about this 
 will has got to be respected by you and by me/ 
 
 1 That is plain, Mr. Sherwood. I have tried to feel 
 that way." 
 
 "You said I would understand." 
 
 "Yes, about the hospital gift." 
 
 "But really, as I have just told you, I am not clear 
 that I do." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Sherwood, I might give merely to get 
 rid of the last fragment of a doubt about my right 
 to destroy an insane man s will." 
 
 "I see, and burn it then?" 
 
 "Yes, and without a scruple, but to refuse to re 
 tain and use his money and yet to give now of my 
 own means as this will gives, a memorial that would 
 seem to be given out of affection, respect, remem 
 brance I do not make me say more. It would be 
 known as my gift. I should be acting a lie. I sim 
 ply cannot. Except for Lucy and Dr. Heath I would 
 say, let them fight out this will. I said so." 
 
 She had reached the conclusion I desired. Now I 
 did more fully understand her. 
 
 "No," I returned, "beside my cousin and your 
 friend, there is another to be considered you. You 
 will need some moral courage to face what I shall 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 311 
 
 propose." I was feeling a little uneasy at my own 
 daring. 
 
 "Courage!" she laughed, in a not pleasant way. 
 "It is too horrible. Even to have to speak of this, 
 this thing, this charge, to you to you oh, to any 
 one is horrible. That alone asks courage. What do 
 you want me to do that needs it ? I have faced death, 
 ah, many times, with a madman s pistol touching 
 my forehead. Courage!" She started up, and 
 walked about, twisting a handkerchief, talking wildly. 
 "You talk of courage! I had the courage of duty. 
 Love I never had. My friends, my doctor, said, 
 * Separation divorce, but this man; to him I had 
 bound my best self for sickness and health. I had 
 the courage of duty, of remembrance of his care of my 
 father. What more courage is wanted now?" 
 
 "I will tell you presently, but pray sit down and 
 listen." 
 
 "I will. I will. What have I been saying? 
 You will excuse me, I know. I thought it was all 
 gone and done with, and now oh, my God! He lay 
 like a curse on my young life, and now now I am 
 to be whipped through the years with a dead man s 
 slander ! Let me burn it. I have a right to burn it. 
 No one shall stop me. 
 
 "Sit down, please," I repeated. She did at last 
 throw herself on the lounge. 
 
 "You will not like what I have done. No other 
 course was possible." 
 
 "What is it that you have done?" 
 
312 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 "You can not, will not, give this memorial gift? * 
 
 "No, but " 
 
 "Pardon me. I understand your indecision, but I 
 took you at your word. It is now out of your power 
 and mine. To-day the hospital will have the check 
 of Maxwells, the Baltimore bankers, for fifty thou 
 sand dollars and with it a typewritten, unsigned note 
 saying that it is a gift in loving memory of Lucy 
 Elwood Norman, mother of the late Reverend Bene 
 dict Norman ; I at least can so put it if you could not. 
 I added that the donor desires to remain anonymous. 
 My agents in this matter are to be trusted. No one 
 else will know." 
 
 The little woman was on her feet as I ended. "Mr. 
 Sherwood, you have taken a liberty which nothing in 
 our relation justifies. I shall of course repay you. 
 You had no right to force upon me this obligation. 
 
 "Shall I withdraw the draft?" 
 
 "You know you cannot. You leave me helpless. 
 You would not have dared to do it for a man. 
 
 "Would I not? I would do it, oh, and more, for 
 Heath s sake, that I might feel free to burn this 
 accursed paper." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Sherwood, I have said to you in my my 
 distress what, remembering your kindness to me in 
 those bitter days, I should not have said. But why, 
 oh, why did you, who are so kind, so considerate, put 
 me in this position? Now I can do nothing. I am 
 trapped, powerless. Why did you, a friend, take this 
 liberty?" 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 313 
 
 I too had risen when she did. It was too much for 
 me, who had meant to be patient and trust my future 
 happiness to longer acquaintance and the delicacies 
 of a yet timid love. 
 
 I 1 Why ? You ask why ? Take it, then. It was be 
 cause I love you. There, it is out, the story of these 
 long months of waiting with never out of my mind 
 for a day one woman. It was the liberty of a great 
 honest love, the first of my life and the last. What is 
 your answer, Helen?" 
 
 For but a moment she looked me in the face. Then 
 she threw herself on the lounge, her head in her 
 hands, sobbing out, "I am ashamed, ashamed. It 
 came. It came in little self-surprises and then in a 
 terrible hour of lonely, uncontrolled surrender. I 
 knew, oh, I knew too well, but this How could I 
 guess that you you that you that you loved 
 me?" 
 
 Then I had her in my arms with wild words of love. 
 I held her at arm s length, a hand on each shoulder, 
 saying, "And this incredible thing has come, and you 
 are really mine. Ah, but life owes you much. I 
 shall pay that debt with interest. Oh, but I shall 
 spoil you, Helen," and more and more of such glad 
 folly of yearning love that had found at last a 
 tongue. 
 
 It might have been five minutes the lying clock 
 had the face to insist it was half an hour. She had 
 spoken hardly more than a word now and then. 
 
 I said, Talk to me. You are silent. Oh, I remem- 
 
314 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 her the hour I first heard that low, sweet voice, 
 Helen." 
 
 She laughed, "You have given me small chance. 
 You will get enough of my tongue for, oh, John Sher 
 wood, I have what I wanted, and I just wish to get 
 into a corner a while, all alone, and think about how 
 wonderful it is. Ah, the dear new toy, love. Let me 
 run away and play with it for, oh, John, I feel so 
 young again. You will please to go away, now, at 
 once, and consider the foolish thing you have done. 
 I can t talk to you, even to you, now. I should just 
 say over and over I love you. : She ended, with 
 happy emphasis of laughter. "Please to go." 
 
 "Yes, dear." 
 
 * Euphemia will be here and I am in such a state ! 
 my hair! Do let me go." 
 
 "One word," I said, "we have forgotten that will. 
 I will keep it until we decide what to do with it." 
 
 She had taken it from the table, and then let it fall 
 on the floor. Now she swept down on it fiercely and 
 cried, "Decide! What are wills, dead follies, hos 
 pitals, money, all, anybody! I have come into a for 
 tune, John Sherwood, and there is nothing in all the 
 world but love." Then she cried, "God bless you!" 
 and it is to be feared Euphemia saw it kissed me. 
 
 "Ye saints!" said my cousin, her confounded 
 glasses up, examining the pair of us. "So this was 
 the business on hand! Well, well." 
 
 "Please to go away," cried Helen, "both of you. 
 Tell him to go. Both of you go." 
 
JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 315 
 
 Then this afternoon?" 
 
 "Yes, but go." 
 
 I went as bidden. I walked away thoughtful, 
 along the familiar streets, past old St. Peter s Church, 
 thinking of the blessed chance-given accident of my 
 choice of a camp refuge. I must go and confide my 
 story of happiness to Harry and his wife. 
 
 When we met again in the afternoon, I said, after 
 an hour of talk over our plans, "You have that 
 paper, Helen? I forgot it and everything but you." 
 
 "Yes, it is safe." 
 
 Then she showed me a Baltimore journal where 
 the hospital gift was mentioned with some wondering 
 comment, but without a word of her. 
 
 I said, I am uneasy about that will. 
 
 "You need not be." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "It is burned." 
 
 "You burned it!" 
 
 "No, Sarah Koonis burned it. Those accidents will 
 occur. I wanted to destroy some letters and there 
 was no fire, except in the kitchen." 
 
 "As an explanation that is, well, rather dubious." 
 
 "Is it? You could not burn it." 
 
 "I always meant to and hesitated as a man may 
 over an illegal act, the breaking of a wise law." 
 
 "Well, I have saved your conscience. My own is 
 clear. Illegal! Law! What do I care. Thereis.no 
 law for me but the law of love. I said no more. 
 
 When our secret of a week was out, and Euphemia 
 
316 JOHN SHERWOOD, IRONMASTER 
 
 free to relate this delightful gossip, Dodo appeared. 
 
 "Well, Dodo/ said Helen Norman, "I hope you 
 are pleased. Was it a surprise?" 
 
 "I always did know it would come about." 
 
 * Good heavens ! said the lady. 
 When, before this, Harry Heath came with Lucy, 
 his wife, and roses and congratulations, I had, as he 
 spoke, the thought of how fortunate it was that there 
 is no human power to unlock the secret chambers of 
 another s mind. 
 
 THE END 
 

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