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 This text is much damaged; it goes on to speak of Aidugama, the Hittite King, in the country of the King of Egypt, who has taken various things—enumerated, but not intelligible—including, perhaps, ships or boats, and dwellings; and it mentions Neboyapiza. It then continues:

“My Lord: Tewiatti of the city of Lapana, and Arzuia of the city Ruhizzi, minister before Aidugama; but this land is the land of the dominion of my Lord. He is burning it with fire. My Lord, as said, I am on the side of the King my Lord. I am afraid also because of the King of the land of Marhasse, and the King of the land of Ni, and the King of the land of Zinzaar, and the King of the land of Canaan. And all of these are kings under the dominion (or, of the rule) of my Lord—chiefs who are servants. As said let the King my Lord live and become mighty, and so O King my Lord wilt not thou go forth? and let the King my Lord despatch the bitati soldiers, let them expel (them) from this land. As said, my Lord, these kings have the chief of my Lord’s government, and let him say what they are to do, and let them be confirmed. Because my Lord this land ministers heartily to the King my Lord. And let him speed soldiers, and let them march; and let the messengers of the dominion of the King my Lord arrive. For my Lord Arzuia of the city Ruhizzi, and Teuwiatti of the city Lapana, dwelt in the land of Huba, and Dasru dwelt in the land Amma, and truly my Lord has known them. Behold the land of Hobah was at peace my Lord in the days of this government. They will be


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between long silences and fits of febrile gaiety quite unlike her usual insouciant good humour. He thought that he caught a look of relief on her face when the men retired to the loggia with their cigars, since the new household tyrant had ruled against anything but cigarettes in the other parts of the house. The women took possession of the library and Pat established herself beside Dee, who sat on the lounge near the half-open door leading into the loggia. last Saturday, Mary Delia Fentriss James?”
 * “Who’s the angel-faced athlete I saw you skating with

was Pat’s

opening remark. “Saturday? Where were you?” “On the bank in my runabout. You were some conspicuous pair! He’s as good as you are, almost.” “Were we so good?” said Dee, coolly. “Meaning that you don’t choose to tell.” “Wrong guess. His name is Wollaston.” “Not in my Social Register.” “A few people manage to exist without being.” “Don’t be catty, pettah!” “Don’t be an imbecile, baba!’

“All right. I’m off’n him as a subject for airy persiflage. But I will say that he’s a wonderful looking bird —for a skating instructor.” Dee laughed. “You didn’t expect to get a rise out of me that way, did you?” But there was a harsh quality in her mirth which made Pat thoughtful. “When are you going South?” she asked. “T don’t want to go till the first. T. Jameson wants to go next week. We'll probably go next week.” “Like that !”? commented Pat. “But why be bitter about a jaunt to the Sunny? I wish it was me. ... Give ear: what’s old Bobs growling about?”

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1911] I suppose such incidents as this were to be expected, one cannot have ponies very fresh and vigorous and expect them to behave like lambs, but I shall be glad when we are off and can know more definitely what resources we can count on.

Another trying incident has occurred. We have avoided football this season especially to keep clear of accidents, but on Friday afternoon a match was got up for the cinematograph and Debenham developed a football knee (an old hurt, I have since learnt, or he should not have played). Wilson thinks it will be a week before he is fit to travel, so here we have the Western Party on our hands and wasting the precious hours for that period. The only single compensation is that it gives Forde's hand a better chance. If this waiting were to continue it looks as though we should become a regular party of ‘crocks.’ Clissold was out of the hut for the first time to-day; he is better but still suffers in his back.

Tuesday, October 24.—Two fine days for a wonder. Yesterday the motors seemed ready to start and we all went out on the floe to give them a ‘send off.’ But the inevitable little defects cropped up, and the machines only got as far as the Cape. A change made by Day in the exhaust arrangements had neglected the heating jackets of the carburetters; one float valve was bent and one clutch troublesome. Day and Lashly spent the afternoon making good these defects in a satisfactory manner.


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The heavy voice of Dr. Osterhout penetrated to them, “All very well for the club. But I wouldn’t have the swine in my house.” To which Ralph Fentriss’s musical and tolerant tones replied: “Oh, you can’t judge a man solely on the basis of his business, can you, now?”

“If his business is that of a panderer, I can.” “Rough talk,” murmured Pat to Dee. “Who’s the accused?” “Because Peter Waddington’s newspaper,” put in Browning, “has violated some technical rule of the medical profession: fi “Technical nothing! It isn’t technicality. It’s ordinary law and order and decency. Look at that column. Abortionists, every one of ’em.” “Oh, myo-my!” whispered Pat, vastly enjoying this. “They’re waxing wroth.” “A very useful contribution to the social system,” said Jameson James in his precise enunciation, with a lift obviously intended to be humorous, “TI always understood that those fellows didn’t deliver the goods,” remarked Fred Browning carelessly. “Whether they do or not,” retorted Osterhout, “has nothing to do with the question. That thing”—he snapped his finger against the offending print—~“‘is an invitation to commit murder. But aside from that feature, if you men think that sort of stuff is decent to have lying around a house where there is a young girl 2 “Oh, Pat would never think of looking at it,” said her father easily. “If she did she wouldn’t know what it

meant.

It’s veiled.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” remarked Browning.

“Pat’s a wise kid.

Not much gets past her, nor any of

the girls of her age for that matter.”

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“You make me sick, all of you,” vociferated Osterhout, “You wouldn’t talk about these things before young girls, yet you’d admit the stuff in this form. T’ll see that this specimen doesn’t befoul anyone’s eyes.” There was the rustle of a newspaper being violently crumpled. “Where’s the damned waste-basket?” “Chuck it in the wood-box and forget it. Have a drink,” advised Browning. Her quick and prurient curiosity stimulated, Pat made instant resolution to retrieve that newspaper and see for herself later how ‘they did these things. Presently the men came in and joined the group in the library. Pat sang for them to*her father’s accompaniment, also to his delighted surprise, for, with his natural taste he appreciated the genuine quality of the voice. Then there was poker, family limit, meaning fifty cents. At midnight Dee called for a round of roodies, declaring that she was tired out. She had previously announced her intention of spending the night at the Knoll, as James was taking an early morning train to attend a sale at which he expected to pick up some polo ponies. Pat, going upstairs last, as befitted the chatelaine, heard Dee moving about in the bathroom, and went to her own room to wait. When all was quiet she slipped on a dressing gown and tiptoed downstairs to rifle the woodbox of its denounced print. There was a single light on in the loggia. Astonished, Pat crept to a viewpoint and peeped in. Dee, with an intent and haunted face, was smocthing

out the newspaper upon her knee.

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 paper was there. The maids had not yet made their rounds; therefore Dee must have taken it up with hen Dee did not appear at breakfast, but at ten o'clock she ©

came down. Her face was weary and apathetic; her lithe —

body seemed to have Jost something of its peisa Sorely— compassionate and thrilling to the sense af seeret and —

adventurous matters Pat seized upon the first chance of speaking to her alone E

“Dee, did you take a newspaper from the weed-bex?” _ Dee's &

ssion was inscrutable.

“Yes.”

“The one Bobs was grouching about? I wanted to © see it.” 4 “You! The exclamation was pregnant with astonish- — ment and dismay.

Rt crystallised Pat's suspicion as te

Dee's motive in taling the paper. The older woman rese —

slowly, walked across the room and stared down inte the| thoughtful face of the younger. “What do you want —

that for?” Bobs is & nut,” said Dee Hstlessly. & that paper. I toreit up”
 * Just cassed curiosity.~

“There's nothing

“Dea, are you that way? “Nene of your business.” “Con tekd me when she was.” “Con's a cor.”

“She's tickled pink, I should think you” be” pa

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“Oh, would you!” Dee’s self-control broke. Her face worked spasmodically. “I'd kill myself first.” The badinage faded from Pat’s lips. ‘That doesn’t sound like you, Dee. I’d think you’d be a sport about it anyway.” “Pat, I can’t have a baby.” “Rats! You’re as strong as an ox.” “It isn’t that. I’m not afraid that way.” “What else is there to be afraid of?” “Tt isn’t fear. It’s—it’s disgust.” “Disgust?” Pat stared. “I don’t get you.” “Pat, listen to me,” burst out the sister, her hands

twitching, one over the other in a nervous spasm. ‘“Whatever you do, when the time comes however much it may seem the thing to do at the time, don’t, don’t, don’t marry

a man you aren’t in love with. It’s a thing to make you sick of yourself every day of your life.” “Dee

9?

“Tt is. JTll never talk to you like this again. But I tell you now; do anything, take any chance but that.” Pat’s voice was hushed as she asked: “Do you hate Jimmie-James so much?” “Not as much as I hate myself. But D’ve got cause against him. He hasn’t kept to his bargain. He hasn’t

been on the level.” Pat’s eyes widened. “You'll never make me believe that the correct and careful T. Jameson has been straying off the reservation.” “JT wish to God he would! It isn’t that. It’s worse— for me. I oughtn’t to be spilling this to you, Pat.” “Oh, go ahead! Get it off your chest.” “J married Jim under a private agreement. We were to live together for a month, and after that if either of us wanted to quit we were to just say so and stop being

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husband and wife without any legal separation or any fuss of that sort. The house is big enough for two separate

lives.” “No house is,” denied the sapient Pat. “I don’t know rauch about marriage, but I know that much. It’s a fool arrangement.” “J thought it would be a clever sort of trial marriage. Trial marriage”—Dee gave a short and bitter laugh— “doesn’t work out so well after the ceremony. If a girl is going to experiment, she might better make her experiments before——— Oh, damn it, Pat! I don’t meanit. I think I’ve gone crazy mooning over this thing.” “What was wrong? Wouldn’t Jimmie keep to his part of the agreement?” “No.”

“Bum

sport,” pronounced Pat.

“And he knew you

wanted to quit?” V

eg,??

“Why

???

Dee’s body writhed under its loose covering.

“I can’t

explain.” “Has it got something to do with—with the other man?” “What other man?” It was not like direct Dee to fence, Pat reflected. She

persisted: “The one you told me about.” “T never told you about any man.” “Oh, well!

You talked about that thrill stuff.

2

“Don’t!” gasped Dee. “Y’m sorry,” said Pat in swift contrition. “Is it as bad as that? Then I suppose it is the angel-face on skates.” The hard lines melted out of Dee’s face. “Yes,” she whispered. She seemed to find relief in the admission,

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24. 44

the maiden that cometh forth to draw, to whom I shall say, Give me, I pray thee, a little water from thy pitcher to drink.  And she shall say to me, Both drink thou, and I will also draw for thy camels. Let the same be the woman whom Jehovah hath appointed for my master's son.  And before I had done speaking in my heart, behold, Rebekah came forth with her pitcher on her shoulder. And she went down unto the fountain, and drew. And I said unto her, Let me drink, I pray thee.  And she made haste, and let down her pitcher from her shoulder, and said, Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also. So I drank, and she made the camels drink also.  And I asked her, and said, Whose daughter art thou? And she said, The daughter of Bethuel, Nahor's son, whom Milcah bare unto him. And I put the ring upon her nose, and the bracelets upon her hands.  And I bowed my head, and worshipped Jehovah, and blessed Jehovah, the God of my master Abraham, who had led me in the right way to take my master's brother's daughter for his son.  And now if ye will deal kindly and truly with my master, tell me. And if not, tell me. That I may turn to the right hand, or to the left.

Then Laban and Bethuel answered and said, The thing proceedeth from Jehovah. We cannot speak unto thee bad or good.  Behold, Rebekah is before thee, take her, and go, and let her be thy master's son's wife, as Jehovah hath spoken.  And it came to pass, that, when Abraham's servant heard their words, he bowed himself down to the earth unto Jehovah.  And the servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment, and gave them to Rebekah. He gave also to her brother and to her mother precious things.  And they did eat and drink, he and the men that were with him, and tarried all night. And they rose up in the morning, and he said, Send me away unto my master.  And her brother and her mother said, Let the damsel abide with us a few days, at the least ten. After that she shall go.  And he said unto them, Hinder me not, seeing Jehovah hath prospered my way. Send me away that I may go to my master.  And they said, We will call the damsel, and inquire at her mouth.  And they called Rebekah, and said unto her, Wilt thou go with this man? And she said, I will go.  And they sent away Rebekah their sister, and her nurse, and Abraham's servant, and his men.  And they blessed Rebekah, and said unto her, Our sister, be thou the mother of thousands of ten thousands, and let thy seed possess the gate of those that hate them.

And Rebekah arose, and her damsels, and they rode upon the camels, and followed the man. And the servant took Rebekah, and went his way.  And Isaac came from the way of Beer-lahai-roi. For he dwelt in the land of the South.  And Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide. And he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold, there were camels coming.  And Rebekah lifted up her eyes, and when she saw Isaac, she alighted from the camel.  And she said unto the servant, What man is this that walketh in the field to meet us? And the servant said, It is my master. And she took her veil, and covered herself.  And the servant told Isaac all the things that he had done.  And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent, and took Rebekah, and she became his wife. And he loved her. And Isaac was comforted after his mother's death.

And Abraham took another wife, and her name was Keturah.  And Abraham took another wife, and her name was Keturah.And she bare him Zimran, and Jokshan, and Medan, and Midian, and Ishbak, and Shuah.  And Abraham took another wife, and her name was Keturah.And Jokshan begat Sheba, and Dedan. And the sons of Dedan were Asshurim, and Letushim, and Leummim.  And Abraham took another wife, and her name was Keturah.And the sons of Midian: Ephah, and Epher, and Hanoch, and Abida, and Eldaah. All these were the children of Keturah.  And Abraham took another wife, and her name was Keturah.And Abraham gave all that he had unto Isaac.  And Abraham took another wife, and her name was Keturah.But unto the sons of the concubines, that Abraham had, Abraham gave gifts. And he sent them away from Isaac his son, while he yet lived, eastward, unto the east country.  And Abraham took another wife, and her name was Keturah.And these are the days of the years of Rh


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’ Pat took her courage in her hands. baby?”

223

“Dee, is it his

“If it were, I’d want to have it,” was the low, vehement

response. For the stood well her forces

“I’d be proud to have it.”

moment Pat was awed. Passion she underenough; but not in this degree. She gathered again.

“Ts it Jimmie’s, then?” “Yess it’s Jim’s.”

“You say that,” marvelled Pat, “as if you were ashamed of xt.” “Tam. God knows I am!” She bowed her proudly set head in her hands and rocked it to and fro.

“Pat, there’s

nothing so rotten and shameful in the world as marrying a man you don’t love.” “You didn’t have to,” said Pat, gaping. “What did you do it for?” “The usual thing: convenience. And because I was afraid of making a fool of myself by—with someone else. It couldn’t come to anything, the other thing. So I got reckless and took Jim. It wasn’t a fool that I made of myself; it was something worse. Shall I tell you?” “No. Don’t think it. You did the right thing.” “Of course! As we figure it out. And I’ve paid for it, But I won’t pay for it this way. I won’t! I won't!” “F would,” said Pat slowly. “If I went into it I’d go through with it. You’ve got to be fair to Jimmie. Does

he know?” The smile called forth by the query disfigured Dee’s mouth. “No. And he never will know, what’s more.”

“You're going to get out of it? of those people in the newspaper?” CoV es?

“Isn't it terribly dangerous?”

You’re going to one

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193

the waning moon I walk at night, And muse on human life—for all around Are dim uncertain shapes that cheat the sight, And pitfalls lurk in shade along the ground.  13


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“What do I care if it is?”

“Dee, why don’t you go to Bobs?” “Bobs?” She hesitated. “I couldn’t go to Bobs.

wouldn't help me out anyway.

He

Doctors aren’t allowed to.”

“He'd do anything in the world for you, Dee.” “If he would, that’s all the more reason why I couldn't go to him with this,” muttered Dee obscurely. Pat had an inspiration. “I could. Pil tell him. PH tell him the whole thing. Except about Angel-face, of

course.

I'll tell him he’s just got to get you out of it.

Let me, Dee.”

“Qh, go ahead! I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I wish I were dead.” “Don’t be an ass. We'll fix it.” Pat was exuberant with the sense of great and delicate affairs in her hands. “Tl go right now and tackle him. If he sends for you will you come?” “Yes,” agreed Dee listlessly. “You're a good little sport, Pat,” she added.

The response was curt and unexpected: “Are you?* “For not going through with it, you mean?”

“Yes.

On Jimmie’s

account.

It’s as much his as

yours.” “Js it!” Bitter laughter followed. “He's no right to it. He’s no right to me.” “Why didn’t you quit him, then? I would have. Ina minute.” “T couldn’t. You don’t know.” “You could have come home. Of course there'd have been a stink-up, but e

“T wouldn’t have cared.

I'd have done anything te get

away from him. But he found out—about Stanley.” “Stanley? Oh, Angel-face! Dee, had you?”

“No;

no!

There was never any question of that

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petween us,” she said moodily. “I did meet him, though. [t was accidental at first, for I never meant to see him

again after I married Jim. After that we met once in a while, for walks and in places like the skating rink. That was all there was to it, but Jim found it out and used it te

blackmail me and hold me to the marriage. White slave stuff, on the respectable side! But Bobs won’t do any-

thing,” she added dully.

“You'll see.”

Pat caught her in a sudden, reassuring hug. “Leave it to me,” was her commonplace but confident rejoinder to this baring of a woman’s self-wrought and therefore doubly grim tragedy. Having carefully rehearsed her form of attack upon the family physician Pat went to his bungalow. “Why the face so solemn, Infant?” he greeted her. “T’ve got something serious to say to you, Bobs.” “What devilment have you been up to now?” “Tt isn’t me,” returned Pat, with her usual superiority to the laws of grammar. “It’s Dee.” “Hello! His expression changed. “Anything wrong?” “Yes, She’s going to have a baby.” “Dee,” he murmured, “a mother.” He lost himself in musing, seeming to forget Pat’s presence. “But she doesn’t want to be a mother.” “Eh?” Osterhout quite jumped, startled by the emphasis which Pat gave to the assertion. “Oh! That’s unimportant. They often don’t in the early stages.” “Dee never will. Never! Never!” The physician smiled tolerantly. “And you’ve got to help her out of it.” The scandalised amazement in his expression “7?”

tempted Pat to mirth, but she restrained herself. “Help her out! In what way, may I ask?” “You needn’t may-I-ask in that hateful tone. You

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 An Administration Delegate Reports

By

(Ted Miller―that isn't his name, but it will do just as well―is a rock-ribbed reactionary, a defender of the American Constitution and protector of the sanctity of the home. He is down on all Reds. So the bureaucrats in the central labor body picked him out to represent them at the A. F. of L. convention at El Paso. This is what Ted reported when he got back. It is not fiction. Ted is a real person, and the story was taken down pretty nearly verbatim.)

"Well, brothers,

I got back from the Texas Convention last night,

And I sure want to thank you for the trip.

The convention was called on the Seventeeth

And adjourned on the Twenty-fourth.

We all had a good time.

Most of the boys spent their time in Juarez.

That's sure some town

They don't have keys in that town

Whisky two dollars a quart  good stuff.

Plenty of beer. The Mexicans make a drink

Called pulki it would make a man kill his mother.

We sure had plenty to drink

Now I've seen lots of bull thrown around here,

But down there I saw them killed by the car load.

And cock fights! Christ, them long-legged birds

Can fight like hell never seen anything like it.

23


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364 where they could hear the birds squawking, but from which they were quite unable to find a way down. The poor light was failing and they returned to camp. Starting again on the following day they wound their way through frightful ice disturbances under the high basalt cliffs; in places the rock overhung, and at one spot they had to creep through a small channel hollowed in the ice. At last they reached the sea ice, but now the light was so far spent they were obliged to rush everything. Instead of the 2000 or 3000 nesting birds which had been seen here in Discovery days, they could now only count about 100; they hastily killed and skinned three to get blubber for their stove, and collecting six eggs, three of which alone survived, they dashed for camp.

It is possible the birds are deserting this rookery, but it is also possible that this early date found only a small minority of the birds which will be collected at a later one. The eggs, which have not yet been examined, should throw light on this point. Wilson observed yet another proof of the strength of the nursing instinct in these birds. In searching for eggs both he and Bowers picked up rounded pieces of ice which these ridiculous creatures had been cherishing with fond hope.

The light had failed entirely by the time the party were clear of the pressure ridges on their return, and it was only by good luck they regained their camp.

That night a blizzard commenced, increasing in fury from moment to moment. They now found that the place chosen for the hut for shelter was worse than useless. They had far better have built it in the open, for the fierce


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know perfectly well. Doctors do those things, don’t they?” “Oh, certainly! By all means. It’s the backbone and mainstay of the profession.” “Now you’re being sarcastic. And it’s terribly serious.” “You go back to Dee and tell her not to be a damned fool. She ought to be ashamed of herself for sending you on such anerrand. I don’t understand it in Dee.” “Liar yourself, Bobs. She didn’t send me. I came. And”—a little breathlessly —“if you don’t do it for her somebody else will.” “Somebody else? Who?” “I don’t know yet. One of these people in here.” She produced the newspaper page which she had extracted from Dee. Osterhout swore vividly and voluminously. “Just what — X said! Leaving such filth about where girls can pick it up.” He rose, shuffled over to Pat, took her chin between finger and thumb and peered down into her limpid, troubled eyes. ‘‘What’s behind all this foolishness?” came the stern question. “Oh, Bobs! Be good and help us. She can’t have © the baby. Truly she can’t. I mustn’t tell you why, but you’d say so, too, if you knew.” His face darkened. ‘“What’s this? Isn’t it James’s

child?” Pat was virtuously indignant,.notwithstanding that she had put a like query herself a few moments earlier. “Of course it is!” “Then it’s probably the very best thing that could happen to her.” “Won’t

tell you

~.

you believe me, Bobs,” Pat implored, “when ] |

&

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227

“I’m going to put you out of this house in a minute if yeu don’t stop talking such trash.” You won’t help her?” “Not by so much as stirring a finger.” Then Pat, offering up a silent prayer to the genius of histrionics, played her trump card. “Will you help—me, then?” Her eyes were cast down; that was in the rdéle she had

assumed ; but she heard his pipe clatter to the floor, felt the insistence of his stare fixed upon her. “Bambina!l” It was long since he had called her by the old pet-name of her childhood. The realisation of what the reversion implied almost broke down her resolution. But he instantly recovered his ‘self-command; was wholly the physician. “Tell me about it,” he said gently. “What is there to tell more?” She threw out her arms in what she deemed the proper gesture. “Are you sure?” “Yes. Or I’d never have come to you.” “Who is the man?” Pat shook her head. She had not invented the man even in her own mind. “Tell me, Pat.”

Her lips set firm indicating (as she had scen determination “registered” on the screen) that rather would she die than betray her lover. “The damned scoundrel has got to marry you.” “He can’t.” “Why? Is he married?” She was quite pale with Her head inclined slowly. emotion now, living into her part thoroughly. Pat “Then I'll drive the dirty whelp out of town. me.” tell you yow’re not going to leave this room until

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‘Real old mellerdrammer stuff,’ thought Pat.

Sadly

she said: “What’s the use, Bobs? Ill never tell. He’d marry me if he could. Oh, you needn’t go guessing,” she added hastily. ‘‘You’ve never seen or heard of him. Word of honour.” He went over to the window and stood, staring out into the soft, grey drizzle of an early thaw. When he turned to her his face was set in a still resolution. “Pat, you’re absolutely certain that he can’t marry you?”

“Absolutely,” returned Pat, with the conviction of truth. “Then, will you marry me?” “Bobs!” She started to her feet, astounded, incredulous. “You’re joking.” “I’m in dead earnest.” The irrepressible coquette within her seized upon and dominated her. “Do you mean to say that you’re in love with me? With little Pat?” she crowed. “No.”

“Oh! The coquette retired, discomfited. “I’m offering you a marriage of safety; a marriage of form, only. I should never make any claim on you.” “I couldn’t,” she gasped, still in the grip of utter amazement.

“Do you see any other way out?” he asked with grim patience, “But why should you do it?” “Why shouldn’t I? I’d do it for your mother’s sake if for no other reason. It isn’t as if I had anything else to do with my life. You needn’t be afraid of my ever bothering you; and when the time comes, we can get a quiet divorce.”

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229

Pat fell back into her chair, her brain still whirling. “No. No. No. No. No! Never in this world! I couldn’t even think of it.” “If the idea of me as a pretended husband is so repulsive——” “Tt isn’t. I think you’re divine. I adore you. Not that way, though. And I couldn’t mess things up that way for both of us. I’d kill myself, first.’ She was winning back, though badly jarred, into the drama of it again. “Bobs, you will help me through. 'The—the other way.” “What! <A criminal operation? Why, I couldn’t if T were willing. I’m no obstetrician!” Pat had the grace to turn red. “No. Not you, of course. But if you’d just send me somewhere—to one of the men in the paper i “That would be just as bad.” “Then you’d rather stand by and see me ruined and disgraced,” she cried hotly. With a swift change to beseeching softness she murmured, “Mona would tell you to help me if she were here.” Again Osterhout turned to look out into the colorless tumult of the storm: “You’re wrong, Pat. She wouldn’t. She’d know me better.” “Then what am I going to do?” He prowled up and down the room like an anxious bear. “J don’t know. We'll have to get you away somewhere. How could you be such an infernal little Oh, Bambina! fool? Why didn’t I look after you better?” “Poor old Bobs!” said she softly. ‘How could you know anything about it?” “One thing you absolutely must not do,” he pursued vigorously, “is to go to any of those scoundrelly quacks

in the paper.”

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 i—
 * mel

h

=

2330

 * el i

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ee "

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“You've got to go through with it, Pl make t

arrangements when the time comes. Just trynottowor amy more than you can help.” . a ss Pat nodded her assent and farewell, But inwanily he

ss

=a

meod was anything but acquiescent.

If Bobs, her —

stand-by of so many years, wouldn't help, well— Outsid in thedrisaleshedrow outthenewspaper andscanned the second legend in the discreet looking column,

Tigers

obscure address in Newark and was signed “Dr.

Jelle

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 CHAPTER

XXII

War work Osterhout was able to do in the two days following Pat’s revelation was mainly mechanical. Neither his mind nor his rea: interest were enlisted. Pat’s supposed situation absorbed both. There were so many phases to that problem! If only Mona were alive. That thought came to him with more poignancy than for a long time past. He would have taken Pat’s secret to her at once, without hesitancy. Could he take it to any other member of the family? Certainly not Ralph Fentriss. Nor the helpless Constance. Dee? He shrank from that idea with an invincible reluctance. Life, he more than suspected, was nct treating Dee over-tenderly. He took his perplexities out into the bluster and whirl of a wild afternoon, and came back weary and a little quieted to find the subject of them stretched out on his divan, fast asleep. Her face, he observed pitifully, showed not only exhaustion but a deeper strain. He touched her limp hand and spoke her name softly. At once she sprang half erect, like a startled animal. “Oh, Bobs! It’s you. I’m so glad you’ve come. afraid, Bobs.”

I’m

“No, dear; you mustn’t let yourself be,” he soothed her. “There’s nothing is “You don’t understand. And I’ve got to tell you That’s what I’m scared about.” ‘“Haven’t you told me the whole thing, Bambina?”

“No. VIl—T’ll tell you on the way over to Dee’s.” “To Dee’s?” 231

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“Yes. Dee’s ill. You must come at once.” He caught up his hat and gloves; his overcoat he had not taken off. “What is it?” “Bobs, it’s—it’s that.”

“That? What? Can’t you speak out?” Out in the air she took a deep breath. “It wasn’t me at all that was in trouble,” she announced desperately. “Not you?” Stupefaction was in his voice. Gathering wrath superseded it as he demanded, “Is this some kind

of an infernal joke?” “No. It was Dee all the time. As I told you at first.” “Then why in the name——” “You wouldn’t help her because she’s married. So 1 thought you might help me, if you thought it was me, because I wasn’t.” “An admirable little game. But I’m still not sure that I quite get the point of it.” His voice was so ugly that Pat’s shook as she said: “The point was to get you to tell me, if you wouldn’t help me

yourself, about

one of those men

in the news-

paper 4 “Dee went to one of them?” he broke in. She looked up at him piteously, pleadingly. “Bobs, it was terrible. He was so—so ghastly business-like.” “What did you expect?” he returned grimly. “And now she’s ill?” “Ves.”

“Fever f”?

“{—I think so.” With a barked-out oath he increased his pace. Pat, striding fast to keep up said: “Bobs, dear; Dee doesn’t know about it.” “About what?”

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“About my pretending that I was the one. own notion.” “Then you will tell her,” he ordained with mand, “as soon as she is well enough to hear gets well enough,” he added. “If? Bobs! You don’t think there’s any ger

233 It was my chill comit. If she

real dan-

39

“Of course there is danger. What do you think fever means in such a case? You take things into your own hands, perpetrate a piece of criminal folly. ” “Bobs! I couldn’t have stopped her.” “You could have told me the truth and let me handle the situation. She would never have dared if she knew that I knew. Now, if Dee dies “Don’t, Bobs!”

ee

“It will be your lie that killed her.” For once the reckless soul of Pat shrunk back upon itself in awed remorse. ‘You’ve never spoken to me that way in your life,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry, Bobs. But Ihadtodoit. Id do it again to save Dee.” “Save her? Aid her in a cowardly shirking of her first duty as a woman and a wife. It is bad enough to find you lying to me. But to find her a coward and a slacker: zi “You’re more angry at her than you are at me, aren’t you?” said Pat, in wonder and some resentment. She did not like to have anyone else put before her even for indignation. He made no reply, but turned in at the gateway to the James ground. As they passed under the portico she stole a glance at his face. It had, by the magic of his
 * T’ve never felt toward you before as I feel now.”

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will, become calm, cheerful, self-possessed, exorcised of all — wrath and dismay, the face of the confident, confidence-

imspiring physician going on his duty ef aid. Pat mar — velled and admired. For her it was a long and thought-haunted half hour before he emerged from Dee's room. “Is it bad?” she whispered, striving te read his expression. “No. A slight nervous shock. Nothing more.* “Oh, Bobs! I could cry with thankfulness.” “Save your tears,” he advised, “for these on whom

they might make an impression.” “You don’t like me much, de you?” she sighed. “Did you tell Dee about my trick?” “Haven*t I made it clear that you are to make that explanation?” “What if I dont choose to?” “J think you will, Whether you like it or not.”

Pat said with slow malice: “Shall I tell her that you asked me to marry you?” “Why not? “Oh, very well She could think of nothing more effective to say.

He iook his coat and hat from the chair upon whieh he had tossed them. “Bobs.” He turned at the door, eyeing her with an unces promising regard. “Don’t look at me in that poisonous way. Say you're sorry, or I'm sorry, or something.”

He did not move but seemed to be considering. When he spoke his voice shook her with its gravity: “Itiis not going to be easy to forgive you, Pat.” “How about Dee?” she shot at him.

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That is between Dee and myself. lie to me.”

235

She at least did not

Pat flamed with a sense of unmerited injuries. “Oh, you go to hell!” she muttered. But her eyes were wondering and frightened after he left her. Dee’s voice calling gave her something else to think about. She ran upstairs. “What were you and Bobs quarrelling about?” demanded the patient. “Nothing.” “You were. Was it about me? Is he very bitter against me?” ‘Tl tell you to-morrow. You must go to sleep now.” her bed and set her back to the door. ‘You won’t leave this room till you tell me.”
 * There’s something back of this.” Dee jumped from

“Get back into bed,” implored the alarmed Pat. tell you.

“I'll

Truly I will.”

Tell, then.”

Pat related the tale of the stratagem with increasing relish in the unfolding of the drama. “Pretty clever of little Pat, what?” “I’m sorry you had to lie to Bobs, though.” “I’ve kept the best of it. When I told him, Bobs asked me to marry him.” “Asked you?” “Yes. Isn’t that a scream!” Between nervousness and exaltation of her diplomatic powers Pat burst into laughter. “And you laugh?” The mirth died on her lips. “Don’t you think it’s fun.

39

“Y ou—dirty—little—heast.” “What did I do?” faltered the younger sister.

“Why

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25. 8

Abraham's life which he lived, a hundred threescore and fifteen years.  And Abraham gave up the ghost, and died in a good old age, an old man, and full of years, and was gathered to his people.  And Isaac and Ishmael his sons buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the son of Zohar the Hittite, which is before Mamre.  The field which Abraham purchased of the children of Heth. There was Abraham buried, and Sarah his wife.  And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that God blessed Isaac his son. And Isaac dwelt by Beer-lahai-roi.

Now these are the generations of Ishmael, Abraham's son, whom Hagar the Egyptian, Sarah's handmaid, bare unto Abraham.  And these are the names of the sons of Ishmael, by their names, according to their generations: the first-born of Ishmael, Nebaioth, and Kedar, and Adbeel, and Mibsam,  and Mishma, and Dumah, and Massa,  Hadad, and Tema, Jetur, Naphish, and Kedemah.  These are the sons of Ishmael, and these are their names, by their villages, and by their encampments. Twelve princes according to their nations.  And these are the years of the life of Ishmael, a hundred and thirty and seven years. And he gave up the ghost and died, and was gathered unto his people.  And they dwelt from Havilah unto Shur that is before Egypt, as thou goest toward Assyria: he abode over against all his brethren.

And these are the generations of Isaac, Abraham's son. Abraham begat Isaac.  And Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebekah, the daughter of Bethuel the Syrian of Paddan-aram, the sister of Laban the Syrian, to be his wife.  And Isaac entreated Jehovah for his wife, because she was barren. And Jehovah was entreated of him, and Rebekah his wife conceived.  And the children struggled together within her. And she said, If it be so, wherefore do I live? And she went to inquire of Jehovah.  And Jehovah said unto her,

And when her days to be delivered were fulfilled, behold, there were twins in her womb.  And the first came forth red, all over like a hairy garment; and they called his name Esau.  And after that came forth his brother, and his hand had hold on Esau's heel; and his name was called Jacob: and Isaac was threescore years old when she bare them.

And the boys grew: and Esau was a skilful hunter, a man of the field; and Jacob was a quiet man, dwelling in tents.  Now Isaac loved Esau, because he did eat of his venison: and Rebekah loved Jacob.  And Jacob boiled pottage: and Esau came in from the field, and he was faint:  and Esau said to Jacob, Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage; for I am faint. Therefore was his name called Edom.  And Jacob said, Sell me first thy birthright.  And Esau said, Behold, I am about to die: and what profit shall the birthright do to me?  And Jacob said, Swear to me first; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob.  And Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentils; and he did eat and drink, and rose up, and went his way: so Esau despised his birthright.

And there was a famine in the land, besides the first famine that was in the days of Abraham. And Isaac went unto Abimelech king of the Philistines, unto Gerar.  And Jehovah appeared unto him, and said, Go not down into Egypt. Dwell in the land which I shall tell thee of.  Sojourn in this land, and I will be with thee, and will bless thee. For unto thee, and unto thy seed, I will give all these lands, and I will establish the oath which I sware unto Abraham thy father.  And I will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and will give Rh


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pick on me? I did it all for you anyway, and I think it’s pretty rotten, if you ask me, to——”
 * You didn’t laugh at Bobs for me.”

“T didn’t laugh at him at all. I was too paralysed.” “Tf you had I hope he’d have killed you. I would.” A monstrous conjecture rose in Pat’s excited brain. “He isn’t the man,is he? It isn’t Bobs that you’re crazy about, and the other man just a bluff? It couldn’t be.” “Why couldn’t it?” “Dee! It isn’t.” “No; it isn’t. But there’s no reason why it couldn’t be with any woman who had heart and sense enough to know him for what he is. He’s the best and finest person I’ve ever known. And when he does the biggest and noblest thing a man could do and offers his name and honour to shield a little heartless fool, he gets laughed at.” “But it wasn’t any of it true,” cried Pat feebly. “Don’t you see what a difference that makes?” “No. He thought it was true.” “Oh, very well! I guess I’m pretty rotten. But I’m just as fond of Bobs as you are, Dee Fentriss. Only, the idea of marrying him—well, it’s a scream,

That’s all; a

simple scream.”

“Oh, do get out of here,” said Dee wearily. She slumped down into her bed and drew the covers up. “Good-night,” said Pat, and made her exit. Before the hall mirror she paused to contemplate herself, ‘There you are, Pattie-pat,” she remarked, with the little triple jerk of the head that set her shaggy locks rippling over her ears and neck. “You still look pretty good tome. But if this family was running a popularity contest with peanuts for ballots, you wouldn’t get one shuck. Lord-ee! I wish Cary Scott was here for just one minute! I need moral support.”

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 CHAPTER

XXIII

Spzrine was turbulent in the sap of young trees and the blood of young humans when Mary Delia James rolled along Fifth Avenue in the quietly elegant limousine provided for her special use by a correctly generous husband. Nothing about her suggested participation in the turbulence of the season.

Rather, life with that most unvernal

young man, T. Jameson James, would have served to allay any tendencies toward ebullience which she might otherwise have exhibited. She gave the impression of a cool impassivity. The car had just turned into a side street when her languid expression livened. She signalled to her chauffeur, leaned out of the window and called:

“Cary! Cary Scott!” The object of the summons turned in mid-crossing and came back, his eyes shining with pleasure. “Dee! It is good to see you again. How’s James?” “All right, thank you. What do you mean by turning up and not letting us know?” “Unexpected,” he explained. “I hardly had time to find it out before I was here.” “The telegraph, that useful invention, is still operating. Get in; we’re blocking traffic. You’re dining and spend-

ing the night with us, of course.” “Tf I stay over,’ he answered dubiously. “I don’t know yet. Tell me about the family.” “As usual. We’re all flourishing in true Fentriss style.” “Pat? And Mr. Fentriss? And the Brownings?” 237

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“Separated. No; I don’t mean Fred and Con,” she amended, laughing at the dismay in his face. “Dad and the Brownings. Fred’s sticking to business and to Con; they’ve got a cottage over beyond the Club; addition in June, not to the cottage, to the family. Pat’s running Holiday Knoll like a veteran, though just now she’s in Boston. She’ll be sunk in desolation when she finds you’ve been here and she’s missed you.” “Perhaps Ill be back again when she returns,” he said carelessly, but his words belied his inward resolution so to arrange his schedule that he would run no risk of the peace-destroying encounter. As a minor determination, he decided to accept Dee’s invitation for the night, since jt involved no danger of seeing Pat. “Yes; Pat’s quite doing her job,” continued Dee.

“It’s

good for her to have the responsibility. But she’s still a queer, restless, morbid kid. You saw a lot of her at one time, Cary. I always thought you had a steadying influence on her. What’s the matter with Pat, do you think?” ““The fever of the age, perhaps.” “Oh, we’ve all got that. But Pat’s temperature is particularly high. She rushes from one whirl te another, playing Billy-old-hell with Mark Denby one week, and Emslie Selfridge another, and,Selden Thorpe, a third, and what does she get out of it? Not even excitement, or else she’s a little liar. She’s beaten it now because she says she’s bored to suicide with this place.” ‘And you yourself, Dee? How is it with you?” “Oh, I’ve everything I want,” she said restlessly. “Everything should include happiness; I’m glad.” “What's that? Don’t know—yeh.” Her voice was hard. “Please stop looking at me like a solemn owl, as if

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239

you were probing for symptoms. Bobs does all that I need in that line.” “Osterhout? How is he?” “Go and see him. He needs stirring up. You are coming to us to-night, aren’t you?” “Only too charmed, What’s this place?” he asked, as the car drew to the curb. “My tailor’s. Will you wait for me?” “Heavens, no!” he laughed. “I’m nearly forty now. Can’t spare the time.” “Then account for yourself before you go. What brings you here so suddenly and without any announcement?” “A peculiar mission.” “Private, for a guess. Not hooked, are you, Cary?” “Nothing of that nature.

It’s private, but not secret,

from you. In fact, you may be able to help me.” “T? In what possible way?” “T want to find Stanley Wollaston.” At the name a slow colour rose in Dee’s cheeks until it tinged even the breadly and beautifully modelled forehead. “He’s gone away. To Richmond. I can give you his address.” “Good! I’ve some important news for him. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t know it. His aunt in England has died and left him the estate. Stan’s lean days are over.” The rich hue ebbed out of Dee’s face. ‘“‘He’ll go back, then,” she mused.

At once she recovered herself.

“I am

glad,” she said. “J knew you would be,” he answered. But he thought with pity: “She still loves him’; and, with uneasiness,

“and still sees him.” He continued: “He’ll be going back within a month at the latest. Ill go on to-morrow to find him.”

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text:
User:Cremastra

 * PetScan query of a subset of Wikipedia articles needing links to WS author pages (may be some false positives)

Links (so I don't have to keep fishing through my contributions)

 * Index:Sea spray and smoke drift (IA seaspraysmokedri00gord).pdf
 * Index:Florula Mortolensis.djvu

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He got out, bared his head, and helped her to alight

‘At seven o’clock then,” she said. “Shall I get some people in? Who do you want to see?” “No

one

else in the world,”

he answered

with such

conviction that she smiled up at him. “You are a dear, Cary. I can’t tell you how much we’ve missed you. Pat almost went into mourning.” She did not see his expression change, ever so slightly, as he turned away. Business of his own kept Scott busy most of the afternoon. When he reached the club he found Jameson James waiting to motor him out. James was amiable in his stiff and carefully measured way. Scott went to his room immediately upon their arrival, bathed,

dressed, drank

the preliminary

cocktail

whieb

Dee had mixed with her own hands and sent up to him, and had started to go downstairs when he stopped, his breath piling up, as it were, in his throat from an emotien half dismay, half rapture. The unforgettable, luscious huskiness of a voice floated up from below. “Dee; where are you? Do come and hook this last howk forme. I can’t get the dam’ thing to stay.”

He took a step forward. Pat looked up. “Ch, Mist-er Scott!” she crowed. “It’s too flawless to see you again. I thought you were never coming back.”

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 CHAPTER

XXIV

He walked back with her to Holiday Knoll after dinner, Pat’s face was thoughtful, moody. As they paced in silence he studied it intently, with passionate longings, with passionate misgivings. Out of a reverie she spoke. “I’ve never missed anyone in my life as I’ve missed you, You were right.” “About what, Pat?”

“That day you took me to Philadelphia. You said I’d miss you more than I thought. D’you remember, I told you then what I thought about it. ‘Oh, well, Pll miss him for a few days and then—pouf!’” There followed the impatient, boyish wriggle and hunch of the lithe shoulders. “For me it has never been over. Not for a single minute.” “Have you wanted me so much?” Beneath the conscious coquetry there was a more wistful note. “Oh, God, Pat!”? His voice sounded thick and rough, “There has been no colour or savour, no music or fra-
 * Tt7ll be all over.” It wasn’t all over.”

grance in life without you.” “Why did you go away?” she demanded accusingly. “You know, I had to go.” “Why did you come back?” “Not to see you. I didn’t want to see you. Dee told me that you were away.” “She told me you were here. I’d phoned over about some clethes. So I just thought I’d like to see you again. Don’t scowl at me. You look as if you think I oughtn’t to have come,” 24]

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“No; you oughtn’t.” “Are you sorry I did?” He looked away from her into the wind-swept night. “Are you angry because I did?” “TI love you,” he burst out. “God, how I love you!” She laughed softly. Her hand slid down his arm, slasped for a moment the wrist in which his pulses leapt madly to her touch, wreathed itself, cool and strong and smooth, around his palm. “And I love you,” she half-

whispered gaily. “I’m terribly in love with you”—a pause of deliberate intent—“to-night. Because you’ve

been away from me so long.” “Ah, yes, to-night!” He made no effort to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“But, to-morrow

=

“To-night’s to-night,” she broke in happily. “We’ve got lots of it to ourselves. It’s only nine o’clock. I broke away early on purpose.” Arrested by the look on his face, she added with exasperation and protest: “Cary! You’re not going to play propriety to-night? When we haven’t seen each other for so long?” She shook the gleamy mist of her hair about her face, gave a gnomish bend and twist to body and neck and peered sidelong at him from out the tangle. Suddenly her face darted upward. Her mouth met his in a grotesque parody of a passion-laden kiss.

“Oh, bad bunny!” she admonished herself in mock reproach. He stopped, gazing at her from beneath bent brows. “You hated that, didn’t you?” she said. Ves.”

‘Because it wasn’t real?” “Because it was mockery.” “Petite gamine stuff. But I’m not petite gamine to-

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night; I’m something else.

YOUTH

243

I don’t know whatI am.

Do

you?”
 * “No.??

“Don’t be cross with me.

Whatever it is that I am, it’s

sorry that it kissed you that way. I didn’t mean to make a josh of it.” He smiled. “One might as well try to be cross with a moonbeam.” They had come around by the side street, and now he held the garden gate back for her. The house was dim. Pat kissed her hand to the clematis arbour. “D’you remember?” she murmured. “Ts there one moment ever spent with you that I’ve forgotten?” “Would you like to forget?” “There are times when I would give anything in the world to forget.” “But I don’t want you to forget.” “You want me to have to bear this always?” “No. I don’t want you to be unhappy about it. I want—I don’t know what Ido want. Except now. Now I want to have this evening just to ourselves.” She opened a side door, spoke to a servant, moving about in the kitchen. “It’s all right, Katie.” Then to Scott: “Aren’t you coming in?” He hesitated, but when

she added

impatiently,

“Oh,

don’t be such a crab!” he followed her. “Go into the small conservatory,” she bade him. “That’s my work. I’ve fussed it up into a sort of den.” She bounded upstairs and ran into her room, shook out

her eyes self felt

hair, gathered it, studied herself in the glass. Her were brilliant, heavy-lidded, dreamy. She shook herimpatiently; her strong, supervitalised young body cramped and pent in the close-fitting tailor-made

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26. 5

unto thy seed all these lands. And in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed.  Because that Abraham obeyed my voice, and kept my charge, my commandments, my statutes, and my laws.  And Isaac dwelt in Gerar.  And the men of the place asked him of his wife. And he said, She is my sister. For he feared to say, My wife. Lest, said he, the men of the place should kill me for Rebekah. Because she was fair to look upon.  And it came to pass, when he had been there a long time, that Abimelech king of the Philistines looked out at a window, and saw, and, behold, Isaac was sporting with Rebekah his wife.  And Abimelech called Isaac, and said, Behold, of a surety she is thy wife. And how saidst thou, She is my sister? And Isaac said unto him, Because I said, Lest I die because of her.  And Abimelech said, What is this thou hast done unto us? One of the people might easily have lain with thy wife, and thou wouldest have brought guiltiness upon us.  And Abimelech charged all the people, saying, He that toucheth this man or his wife shall surely be put to death.

And Isaac sowed in that land, and found in the same year a hundredfold. And Jehovah blessed him.  And the man waxed great, and grew more and more until he became very great.  And he had possessions of flocks, and possessions of herds, and a great household. And the Philistines envied him.  Now all the wells which his father's servants had digged in the days of Abraham his father, the Philistines had stopped, and filled with earth.  And Abimelech said unto Isaac, Go from us. For thou art much mightier than we.  And Isaac departed thence, and encamped in the valley of Gerar, and dwelt there.  And Isaac digged again the wells of water, which they had digged in the days of Abraham his father. For the Philistines had stopped them after the death of Abraham. And he called their names after the names by which his father had called them.  And Isaac's servants digged in the valley, and found there a well of springing water.  And the herdsmen of Gerar strove with Isaac's herdsmen, saying, The water is ours. And he called the name of the well Esek, because they contended with him.  And they digged another well, and they strove for that also. And he called the name of it Sitnah.  And he removed from thence, and digged another well. And for that they strove not. And he called the name of it Rehoboth; and he said, For now Jehovah hath made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.

And he went up from thence to Beer-sheba.  And Jehovah appeared unto him the same night, and said, I am the God of Abraham thy father. Fear not, for I am with thee, and will bless thee, and multiply thy seed for my servant Abraham's sake.  And he builded an altar there, and called upon the name of Jehovah, and pitched his tent there. And there Isaac's servants digged a well.

Then Abimelech went to him from Gerar, and Ahuzzath his friend, and Phicol the captain of his host.  And Isaac said unto them, Wherefore are ye come unto me, seeing ye hate me, and have sent me away from you?  And they said, We saw plainly that Jehovah was with thee. And we said, Let there now be an oath betwixt us, even betwixt us and thee, and let us make a covenant with thee,  that thou wilt do us no hurt, as we have not touched thee, and as we have done unto thee nothing but good, and have sent thee away in peace. Thou art now the blessed of Jehovah.  And he made them a feast, and they did eat and drink.  And they rose up betimes in the morning, and sware one to another. And Isaac sent them away, and they departed from him in peace.  And it came to pass the same day, that Isaac's servants came, and told him concerning the well which they had digged, and said unto him, We have found water.  And he called it Shibah. Therefore the name of the city is Beer-sheba unto this day.

And when Esau was forty Rh


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which she had on. She plucked at the buttons with hurried fingers, wriggled out of the garment which she kicked from her feet and left lying on the floor, tossed her corsets after it, and exhaled a long, luxurious “OQoooo-oofff !” of satisfaction and voluptuous relief.

Opening the door of her clothes-press, she rummaged for a moment and pulled out a long, sweeping robe, which she drew about her, moulding it to the boyish set of her shoulders and the woman’s depth and contour of her bosom. She caught up a cigarette, lighted a match, then, lapsing into thought, let it droop from her fingers until the scorching brought an angry “Damn!” of pain. She threw the cigarette after the expiring match. No; she wouldn’t

smoke, much

as her tense nerves demanded

it.

She would keep her mouth fresh and sweet for Cary’s first kiss. She ran down to him, putting on the far light in the hallway, so that only a dim glow invaded the conservatory-den. Scott stood at the window in an attitude of attention. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Listening.” “Music!

A violin.

Oh, I know.

It’s a visitor at the

Eastmans’, next door. He’s good. And how flawless of him to be playing just now. Open the window. Let’s hear it all.” He obeyed. She drew in to him. Her ready fingers sought his palm. “Want me to mix you a drink?” “No, dear.”

“That’s better,” she approved. “Though,” she added, with her old air of gaminerie, “it might go further and not get a call-down. What is it he’s playing?” “ “The Elégie.””

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The violin was sobbing, panting, pleading like a woman in sweet distress. The wind swept the notes to them until the whole room was surcharged with the passion and grief of it. Pat lifted Scott’s hand, cuddled it to her cheek, flipped it away carelessly, turned from him, drifted out of the den into the hallway, back again, and to the divan in the

far corner, where she threw herself, snuggling amidst the pillows. Her eyes grew heavy, languorous; in their depths played a shadowed gleam like the far reflection of flame in the heart of sombre waters. The long, thrilling, haunted, wind-borne prayer of the violin penetrated to the innermost fibre of her, mingling there with the passionate sense of his nearness, swaying her to undefined and flasbing languors, to unthinkable urgencies. “Oh, Cary!” she breathed, in the breaking seduction of her voice, a voice that blended and was one with the

resistless pleading of the music. And again: “Oh, Cary!” Her arms yearned out to him, drawing him through the dimness. With a cry he leapt to her, clasped her, felt her young strength and lissome grace yield to his enfoldment. Through her sundered lips he drew the wine of her breath deep, deep into his veins, until all his self was merged and lost in her passion. Outside the great wind possessed the world, full of the turbulence, the fever, the unassuaged desire of Spring, the allegro furioso of the elements, and through it pierced the unbearable sweetness of the stringed melody. The strain died.

Was it after a minute, or an hour, or

a night that was an age in their intertwined lives? He was back at the window, leaning against the casement, drawing the rushing wind into his lungs, his heart bursting, his soul a whirl of fire.

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Behind him, in the gloom, sounded the shaken softness of her breathing.

He bent his head upon his arms.

“Oh, God!” he said. “Pat. Little Pat!* She came to him then, spread her gracious arms wide, flung the gleaming fog of her hair to the wind, enclasped him, claimed his soul with her lips. “I’m not sorry,” she panted. “Pm not! Pm not! I'm glad!”

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 CHAPTER

XXV

Noruine irked Pat more than being awakened tod early. Consequently Katie’s knock upon her door, at the third discreet repetition, elicited a plaintive growl of protest. “Oh, go away!” ‘Special delivery letter for you, Miss Pat.” ‘Shove it under the door and don’t bother me.” She flumped over in bed, burrowing her face-among the pillows like an annoyed baby. Very much did Pat wish to sleep. Until long after midnight she had lain awake, thinking excitedly. To be roused out of the profound oblivion which she had finally achieved, thus untimely, was a little too much. But that letter got between her and her rest. From Cary Scott, of course. She visualised the oblong blue stamp, insistent, intrusive, “immediate.” Oh, well! Up she jumped, caught the envelope from the floor, and dived back into bed to read it. It was mainly repetition of what he had said last night when they parted: nothing but the absolute necessity of going would have taken him away from her at such a time; he would be back in a few days at the latest; she must wait until then; must not let herself worry, must not make herself unhappy, must trust in him. It ended, “I love you, Pat.” Through the quiet directness of the wording Pat felt the stress of an overwhelming emotion. It was not so much worry or unhappiness that filled Pat’s thoughts as a confused and colourful bewilderment, a sense of unreality. There intervened a reflection from her mis247

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 44 tions? Emerson denies it. He says: "Then, in a moment, and unannounced, the truth appears. A certain wandering light appears, and is the distinction, the principle we wanted. But the oracle comes because we had previously laid siege to the shrine. It seems as if the law of the intellect resembled that law of Nature by which we now inspire, now expire the breath; by which the heart now draws in, then hurls out the blood—the law of undulation. So now you must labor with your brains, and now you must forbear your activity, and see what the great Soul showeth."

Emerson declares that "we are all wise; the difference between persons is not in wisdom, but in art." "Each truth that a writer acquires is a lantern, which he turns full on what facts and thoughts lay already in his mind, and behold. all the mats and rubbish which had littered his garret become precious. Every trivial fact in his private biography becomes an illustration of this new principle, revisits the day, and delights all men by its piquancy and new charm. Men say, Where did he get this? And think there was something divine in his life. But no; they have myriads of facts just as good, would they only get a lamp to ransack their attics withal."

He illustrates: "If you gather apples in the sunshine, or make hay, or hoe corn, and then retire within doors, and shut your eyes, and press them with your hand, you shall still see apples hanging in the bright light, with boughs and leaves thereto, or the tasseled grass or the corn-flags, and this for five or six hours after-


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education through the media of flash fiction and the conventional false moralizings of the screen. In a variety of presentations they all taught the same lesson, that when girls “went wrong” they invariably “got into trouble.” She passed her hands down along her slender, boyish body and experienced a sharp qualm of fear and disgust and anger, a Visualisation of gross and sodden changes in those slim contours. It couldn’t happen to her. In spite of the movies, other girls “took a chance” and “got away with it.” Ada Clare, for instance, according to common gossip; nothing had happened to her. Cissie Parmenter

had

lightly

hinted

at “experiences.”

Pat

thought it would be exciting to tell Cissie. But would it be safe? She would like to have Cissie’s reassurance that everything would be all right. But why should she need reassurance? She steadied herself with the thought, entertained wholly without idea of blasphemy or irreverence, that God wouldn't let anything like that come about, the God to whom she had paid such assiduous homage by going regularly to church and asking every night for what she specially wanted on the morrow or in the further future. It was her naive idea of an unwritten pact with the Deity that the performance of her little ritual, be it never

so self-seeking,

entitled her, of right, to definite

rewards and exemptions, claimable as required. This was one of them. Surely He would keep to His part of

the bargain.

Otherwise, what good would religion be to

anyone? . It occurred to her uncomfortably that He had somewhere said, ““The wages of sin is death,” which she secretly

deemed bad grammar even if it was in the Bible.

But Pat

did not really feel that this was sin; rather it was accident.

Technically it might be sin; she admitted so much. But if it were really sin she would, as a sound Christian, feei

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26. 35

years old he took to wife Judith the daughter of Beeri the Hittite, and Basemath the daughter of Elon the Hittite:  and they were a grief of mind unto Isaac and to Rebekah.

And it came to pass, that when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, so that he could not see, he called Esau his elder son, and said unto him, My son. And he said unto him, Here am I.  And he said, Behold now, I am old, I know not the day of my death.  Now therefore take, I pray thee, thy weapons, thy quiver and thy bow, and go out to the field, and take me venison.  And make me savory food, such as I love, and bring it to me, that I may eat. That my soul may bless thee before I die.  And Rebekah heard when Isaac spake to Esau his son. And Esau went to the field to hunt for venison, and to bring it.  And Rebekah spake unto Jacob her son, saying, Behold, I heard thy father speak unto Esau thy brother, saying,  Bring me venison, and make me savory food, that I may eat, and bless thee before Jehovah before my death.  Now therefore, my son, obey my voice according to that which I command thee.  Go now to the flock, and fetch me from thence two good kids of the goats. And I will make them savory food for thy father, such as he loveth.  And thou shalt bring it to thy father, that he may eat, so that he may bless thee before his death.  And Jacob said to Rebekah his mother, Behold, Esau my brother is a hairy man, and I am a smooth man.  My father peradventure will feel me, and I shall seem to him as a deceiver. And I shall bring a curse upon me, and not a blessing.  And his mother said unto him, Upon me be thy curse, my son. Only obey my voice, and go fetch me them.  And he went, and fetched, and brought them to his mother. And his mother made savory food, such as his father loved.  And Rebekah took the goodly garments of Esau her elder son, which were with her in the house, and put them upon Jacob her younger son.  And she put the skins of the kids of the goats upon his hands, and upon the smooth of his neck.  And she gave the savory food and the bread, which she had prepared, into the hand of her son Jacob.

And he came unto his father, and said, My father. And he said, Here am I. Who art thou, my son?  And Jacob said unto his father, I am Esau thy first-born; I have done according as thou badest me: arise, I pray thee, sit and eat of my venison, that thy soul may bless me.  And Isaac said unto his son, How is it that thou hast found it so quickly, my son? And he said, Because Jehovah thy God sent me good speed.  And Isaac said unto Jacob, Come near, I pray thee, that I may feel thee, my son, whether thou be my very son Esau or not.  And Jacob went near unto Isaac his father. And he felt him, and said, The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.  And he discerned him not, because his hands were hairy, as his brother Esau's hands. So he blessed him.  And he said, Art thou my very son Esau? And he said, I am.  And he said, Bring it near to me, and I will eat of my son's venison, that my soul may bless thee. And he brought it near to him, and he did eat. And he brought him wine, and he drank.  And his father Isaac said unto him, Come near now, and kiss me, my son.  And he came near, and kissed him. And he smelled the smell of his raiment, and blessed him, and said,

And it came to pass, as soon as Isaac had made an end of blessing Jacob, and Jacob was yet scarce gone out from the presence of Isaac his father, that Esau his brother came in from his hunt- Rh


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remorse,

YOUTH

249

And she did not feel remorse.

could not in any serious sense be sin.

Therefore it

Irrefutable logic!

What did she feel? She asked herself. A sense of the fullness of life, of adventure boldly dared. She had met one of the great crises of a woman’s life, the crisis, indeed.

It must be so, since all the stories and movies and plays agreed on the point. The singular aspect of it was that she was conscious of no inner change. She was the same Pat Fentriss, only a day older than yesterday. Being a “woman,” if this was it, was not so different from being eo girl.” And Mr. Scott. According to the conventions, as she had absorbed them through the sensationalised and distorted lens to which her intellectual vision had become habituated, the lover should lose all “respect” for the unfortunate girl, this being the first symptom of the waning of his love. Well, it wasn’t working that way with her lover.

The few, broken words of parting last night, the still passion of his letter, told a different story. Possibly, reflected Pat, the people who set forth what purported te be life, on screen, stage, and the printed page, didn’t know

so much about it after all. Or possibly she and Cary Scott were different from other people. She felt convinced that she was. From this she fell to speculating upon Scott’s probable attitude toward the ingenious and comforting theory of conduct and responsibility which she just had formulated specially to fit the present crisis. Somehow it did not seem quite satisfactory in the illumination of his imagined view. She had thought of him always and rather mournfully as a non-religious if not actually irreligious man; but it was disturbingly cast up from the depths of her mind that if Cary Scott had a God, he would never try either to make cheap excuses to nor shift responsibility

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upen Him. Andesuddenty in that light her exeulpatery arguments seemed shallow and paltering. This uncom | fortable consideration she thrust determinedly into the | background, and concentrated her thought upon her next

meeting with Scott.

All things considered, she was not, on the whole, sorry

that he had gone away, assuming, of course, that he came. back very seen. Ft gave her time te think, to figure

things out free from the immediate glamour of his pres — ence and the disturbing gladness of his return after the © long disseverance. Did she really love him? She sapposed she must; otherwise —— Yet there was still strong: within her the impulse toward the companionship af youth which had inspired her petulant remonstrance to Dr, Bobs aver his opinion as to the desirable age for her hushand: “J don’t want to marry my grandfather!’ Would she

marry Cary Scott if he were free? Even now she doubted it, Not at ence, anyway. She wanted her own freedom for a time yet, freedom te enjoy life, to range, to pick and choese. But she had made her choice.

Traditien |

would hold that she had taken an irrevocable step, committed herself. Tradition be damned! She didn’t be Gere it. Would Cary take that view? Ti, on his retura, he should assume the proprietary attitude, evince a sense of possessiveness—Pat clenched her fists but at ance softened with the recollection of his sure comprehension, his unerring tact, his instinctive sense af her deeper enatians and reactions. Se far as the immediate future went, he was not free

te marry her, nor likely te be. That problem need not be faced now. Suppose later she fell in love and wanted te marry someone else; what would be her course then? Qh, well! Let that take care of itself when it came Meantime she had something more immediate to look forward te.

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in Cary’s return.

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251

She anticipated it with a mingling of

trepidation, eagerness, warmth, and excited curiosity, the latter element being predominant. On the following morning she had another letter, and still a third on the day after. She quite gloried in his devotion. But she did not answer the letters. She rather wanted to but found a difficulty in beginning. She preferred to plan out what she should say to him when they met again, and was in the act of building up a quite thrilling and’ eloquent statement of her feelings when the phone summoned her. “Pat?” It was Dee’s voice, queer and strained. “Ca™ you come over at once?” “Yes. What’s happened?”

Jim has been hurt.” “Jim? How?” “Hit by a car.” “Oh, Dee! Is it bad?” “Yes, Ithink so. They’re bringing him here.” “T’ll be right over.” Pat made a dash for her runabout. When she reached the James house there were two cars in the driveway, Dr. Osterhout’s and a large touring car strange to her. There was blood on the steps which Pat mounted. “Ts he killed?” she asked, chokingly, of a maid who was hurrying through the hall. “Nom,” said the girl. “I don’t think so.” Then added in awe-stricken tones: “He was swearin’ somethin’ awful when they brung him in. The poo-er man!” Dr. Osterhout’s Pat followed her to the front room. head was thrust out, at her knock. “What can I do, Bobs?” she asked.

He nodded, approving the steadiness of her voice and control. “Locate a trained nurse and bring her here.”

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“T’}] have one in half an hour.

How is he?”

“Bad.”

Within the time prescribed Pat was back with the She found Dee in the library waiting. The ‘urse. face was sallow, her eyes wide and shining wife’s young and fixed. “Oh, Dee! don’t!” begged Pat. “You look so afraid.” “J am afraid,” was the monotoned reply. “Is he going to die?” “J don’t know. That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid he isn’t.” “Dee!” “T know, I know how it sounds.

I don’t care.

When

the word first came they said he was killed. I was glad.” Pat stared at her aghast. “Why should I lie and pretend?” whispered the wife fiercely. “Why shouldn’t I want to be free of him? You know how it is between us. I’m a marriage-slave to a man who has no thought of anything but himself.” She gulped and writhed in an access of strong physical nausea. Pat’s strong hands fell upon her wrists. “Stop, Dee! You mustn’t let yourself go that way. Tell me how it happened.” “J don’t know anything about it. The Marburys’ car struck him, down near the station.”

“Poor Jimmie!” “Poor Jimmie? vened last week?”

Poor me!

“No. 'Not now, Dee.

Shall I tell you what hap-

You’re——”

“I’m all right, I tell you. We fought it out to a finish,

And I’m going to tell you. He wants to have children.

children, after the agreement he broke! Well, I couldn’t tell him the whole reason why I wouldn’t; but I told him this, and it’s true, too, as far as it goes. I said to him:

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253

‘Jim, if you’d ever had one single thought for anybody in your life but yourself I might feel different. But if there’s anything in heredity I’d as soon hand down idiocy to a child as your strain. Now, if you want a separation, get it.’ What do you think he said? ‘Oh, no, my dear. That’s heroics. I’m just about the same as other men. You don’t get off so easily. As for selfishness, you didn’t marry me in any spirit of altruism.’ ” “He had you there, Dee.” “Yes; he had me there. Then he said, ‘I’m going to hold you until you make good or break away yourself.’ ” “¢Then [ll break,’ I said. ‘Tl leave you.’ He only smiled. ‘You won’t find it too easy,’ he said. I could have killed him.” “Are you really going to leave him?” asked Pat, wide: eyed. | “I was. Now’— she jerked her hand upward—“how can I? What kind of a brute would I look?” “Perhaps he will die. Poor Jimmie!” “Tf you say ‘Poor Jimmie’ once again I'll scream at the top of my voice.” A man in chauffeur’s livery came down the stairs. He looked beseechingly at Dee. “I couldn’t help it, Mrs. James,” he gulped. “I never seen him until he grabbed the kid an’ then I couldn’t turn.” “What kid?” asked Pat. ‘Didn’t you hear how it happened?” “No. Tell us.” “I was comin’ down the road by the turn above ths bridge when a little girl run out from the curb. Mr. James must have been right behind her. I honked and the kid stopped dead. I give the wheel a twist and the kid jumped right under the fender. I knew there wasn’t no chance, but I jerked her again and felt her hit some-

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thin’ hard, and the Kid yelled once, and there was Mr. | James under the wheels. He'd seen the little girl and ©

he made a dive for her and shoved her out from under — just as E—I got him. It was the nerviest thing™—the man’s rough veice broke. “He must-a knowed he didn’t: have a chance. A—a—man’s thinkin’ Httle of himself te de thst for a Dago kid he never seen before.”

Dee was leaning forward with fixed stare and twitching — ips which barely formed the words: “Did Jim do that?™ “Yestm. He sure did. He'd oughta get the Carnegie medal for it.” “And the little girl?” said Pat, thrilled. “He saved her?*

The man shook a doleful head. “He shoved her out from under my wheels and she rolled right into a track passin’ the other way.” “Killed”

He nodded, speechiessly.

Dee burst inte laughter. taughed.

She laughed and laughed and

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 CHAPTER

XXVI

Never in all her career of coquetry had Pat devoted more careful planning than to her meeting with Cary Scott when he should return. At first sight of him all her elaborate campaign was dissipated in consternation. “Mist-er Scott!” she cried. He had come out from the city direct to Holiday Knoll and was standing in the library, as she came downstairs to meet him, the morning light brilliant on his haggard face. At her exclamation a wry smile twisted his lips. “Still that, to you?” he asked. She moved toward him slowly, a little shyly, with fut tering hands outstretched, lips upturned, rather from the wish to comfort his manifest suffering than from any impulse of passion within herself. He drew her into his arms,

bent

over

her, kissed her gently.

She felt him

tremble in her clasp. “What is it, Cary?” she whispered. “You look too appalling.” “J haven’t slept very well.” She drew back to survey him. “I don’t believe you’ve slept at all,’ she pronounced. “Have you?” “It doesn’t matter.” “Tt does! You mustn’t take it that way.” His expression told her that her coolness amazed him,

And, then, suddenly, by reflex from him, it amazed herself. It was so exactly the reverse of the programmed course of events as presented in the familiar media of her reading. She, the woman, the “betrayed,” was striving to comfort and reassure ge the man, the “betrayer.” 26

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“Did you expect that I should take it lightly, Pat?” “No, but

7

“T love you,” he said. No more than that, hardly above his breath. But it was as if he had pronounced the final word of passion, of yearning, of devotion; his full confession of the bond which is at once primal and eternal between man and woman. She dropped her head. The thick clusters of her hair rippled forward, almost concealing the eyes which she lifted, aslant, alight, mischievous, yet craving, to his.

“Do

you?”

she whispered.

“Do

you truly?”

nestled again, close in his embrace. “And you, Pat?” he asked. “T don’t know,” she answered, troubled. been able to think—-since.

She

“I’ve hardly

I suppose I must; but

~

“We have a great deal to say to each other,” he began gravely, when she broke in:

“T’ve had so much else to think about.

Have you heard

about poor Dee?” “Dee? No. What is it?” “Tt isn*t exactly Dee. It’s Jimmie. He was run over by a car three days ago.” “Not killed!” “Almost. It’s his back. Bobs says they can save him but it would be kinder to let him die. He'll never be anything but a helpless log.” “Good Heavens! Poor Dee! I must go over there.” “We'll go over together. Ill tell you as we go.” She ran to get her hat, returned at once, setting it in place on her —utinous hair, stood studying him for a moment through half-closed eyes, then leapt to him, flung her arms about his body, pressed her cheek to his, murmuring, “Ti’s too flawless te have you back, Cary!” Outside, she said, “Dee was going to leave him.”

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 Rh wards. There lie the impressions on the retentive organ, though you know it not. So lies the whole series of natural images with which your life has made you acquainted in your memory, though you know it not, and a thrill of passion flashes light on their dark chamber, and the active power seizes instantly the fit image, as the word of its momentary thought."

He becomes bold in comparison—"Perhaps if we should meet Shakespeare, we should not be conscious of any steep inferiority; no; but of great equality—only that he possessed a strange skill of using, of classifying his facts, which we lacked."

The mind can have "its choice," says Emerson, "between truth and repose." "Take which you please—you can never have both. Between these, as a pendulum, man oscillates. He in whom the love of repose predominates will accept the first creed, the first philosophy, the first political party he meets—most likely his father's. He gets rest, commodity, and reputation; but he shuts the door of truth. He in whom the love of truth predominates will keep himself aloof from all moorings, and afloat. He will abstain from dogmatism, and recognize all the opposite negations, between which, as walls, his being is swung. He submits to the inconvenience of suspense and imperfect opinion; but he is a candidate for truth, as the other is not, and respects the highest law of his being. The circle of the green earth he must measure with his shoes to find the man who can yield him truth. He shall then know that there is something more blessed and great


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“No!

YOUTH

257

For what earthly reason?”

“I can’t tell you.

Yes, I can.

I can tell you any-

thing—now.” She flushed, but looked at him unflinchingly. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” “It’s unutterably sweet,” he said. “It’s the companionship that is deeper and more lasting than any other association.” “But there’s always been that between us,” she mused. “Only,

it’s different

now.

I don’t

quite

understand;

there’s so much I don’t understand, Cary, dear. But I know that I want to tell you. I don’t believe Dee would mind.” She repeated Dee’s bitter protest over James’s breach of faith, her refusal to accept maternity, her recent resolution to quit her husband at whatever cost of scandal. “And now she can’t,” she concluded.

“You mean that she won’t.” “Yes. Dee’s a good sport. She’ll stick to a man when he’s down. The worst of it is, she told him why she wouldn’t have a baby of his; because he was just a bunch of pure selfishness. And then he goes and pulls a real hero stunt and deliberately throws his life away for a Dago brat—and doesn’t save the darn thing, anyway,” concluded Pat, her lips quivering. ‘Where does that

leave Dee?” “Was it what Dee said that drove him to do it?” “No. It was too quick for that. He did it instinctively. It must have been in him all the while to do the big, selfsacrificing thing when it was put up to him. Like the men on the Titanic that everybody thought were wasters. That’s what makes it so rotten for Dee. She thinks she’s misjudged him all the time. I believe she’d give her life now to have a child for him.” ‘Well? queried Scott.

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 ie Pat shook a mournful head. “No, never, Not a chance,

Haven't I told you? He'll live in a plaster cast the rest

of his life if he does live, I wouldn't! ... Pve had a hel of a time with Dee, Cary.” “Poor darling! Do you think Dee will want to see me?” “Yes. I'm sure she will. Perhaps not texday.” “Has this really turned her to James again, Pat?” “Has it made her really love him, you mean? How > could she? Women aren't that way. But all she can think of now is her remorse.” He paced along beside her in deep thought for a time before he said: “Was there any other reason for her leaving him?” “The other man?”

She gave him a quick look.

pose that had something to do with it.

“I sup-

Cary, was it a

rotten trick for Dee to marry Jimmie?”

“Tm afraid it was, rather,

Poor child!

She's paying

for it.” “Do women always pay for it?” “No. Sometimes the men do.”

“You know Dee’s man, don’t you?” “Yes.” “Do you know where he is now?"

“Not at this momeat.

But I know he is intending te

come back here in a few days.” “To see Dee?” “Tm afraid so.” “He mustn*t.” “No; he mustn't.”

“Can*t you stop him?” “Jf I can reach hm.” “Cary, you must stop him.” “Ts she still in love with him?” “Terribly.”

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 48 books. "The Origin of Species" ran into many editions, and was translated into several languages. Darwin found himself a center of interest for the world, and his theory a cause of heated argument for all who cared to talk or write about it.

How revolutionary Darwin's work was, and how unwillingly he himself came to the conclusion that organic evolution was an undeniable truth, it is hard for us to understand. For most of us, some at least, of the essential facts of evolution are every-day knowledge; we look upon the anti-evolutionist as a strange anachronism—a hang-over from a past age. But in Darwin's day conditions were very different. Thus we find him, in a letter written in 1844 to the great botanist Hooker, saying:

"I have been … engaged in a very presumptuous work, and I know no one individual who would not say a very foolish one. I was so struck with the distribution of the Galapagos organisms, etc., and with the character of the American fossil mammifers, etc., that I determined to collect, blindly, every sort of fact, which could bear in any way on what are species. … At last, gleams of light have come, and I am almost convinced (quite contrary to the opinion that I started with) that species are not (it is like confessing a murder) immutable. Heaven forfend me from Lamarck


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YOUTH

259

“Tl do my best.” At the James house they found Dr. Osterhout. Pat went up to Dee after bidding Cary come to the Knoll directly after dinner. Going out with the physician he asked how serious James’s case really was. “As serious as it could possibly be,” was the grim reply. ‘‘He’ll live.” “Then Pat was right. He’ll never be any better?” “Not much. A paralytic. With a good deal of suffering.” “Can’t you help him die?” muttered Scott. The medical man turned an uncompromising look upor the other. “When I acquire the wisdom of Deity, then I'll assume the prerogatives of Deity. Not before.” “It’s a merciless attitude. In a case like this iy “Tn a case like this,” the physician cut him short, “the

man’s life may be valuable to others if not to himself. And suppose after I’d killed him, as you so casually suggest”’—the other’s gesture of protest did not serve to stop him—“and some new operation was discovered that would restore this kind of case; where should I stand with myself ?” “Ts that likely?” _ “It?s most unlikely. But it’s possible. In any case, we doctors do not kill.” “You don’t give a thought to Dee.” A ripple of pain twisted the harsh features. “I’m trying not to. My business is with my patient.” “Does he know?” “Yes. He wormed the truth out of me. He wants Dee to get a separation.”

“A separation? idea?”

I don’t understand.

What

is his

“T'9 relieve her from being tied to a corpse, as he says.

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 260

FLAMING

YOUTH

He’s taken to thinking of others besides himself at this late date, has T.

Jameson James.

A close look at Death

sometimes works these miracles.”

“Trying to make his peace with Heaven?” “No. He’s honest in this, just as he has always been in his selfishness. He’s thinking only of Dee.” “Does he really care for her, Osterhout?”

“T think he’d die without her.” “Tsn’t there a good chance of his dying anyway?” “Nothing to bank on.” “What does Dee say to the separation idea?” “Won't listen. Just turns away and stops her ears.” More than ever convinced that Wollaston must be kept away from Dorrisdale at all costs, Scott put in the hours between his talk with Osterhout and his appointment with Pat, striving to locate the Englishman on the longdistance telephone, but without success.

Upon his arrival at the Knoll, Scott found only Ralph Fentriss in possession. “Pat is just starting back from Dee’s,” said the ostensible head of the Fentriss household, after a hearty greeting. “She telephoned. Pretty rough on Dee, this, isn’t it?” “She’s standing up under it like the sport she is,” said Scott. They chatted of local matters, Fentriss being patently restless. At the sound of Pat’s step on the threshold he said with relief: “You'll excuse me, Cary. I’ve got a business engage: ment downtown.” The visitor repressed a smile. So Ralph Fentriss’s evening “business engagements” remained a constant quantity. A casual sort of father. Had he been less casual, had Pat been less unprotected—a throb of remorse and self-contempt sickened Scott to the core of his heart,

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 Rh nonsense of a 'tendency to progression,' 'adaptations from the slow willing of animals', etc.! But the conclusions I am led to are not widely different from his; though the means of change are wholly so." This last statement, as we shall see by reference to the "Origin of Species" was not wholly true.

Another glimpse at the state of affairs in 1859 and the immediately succeeding years may be found in Darwin's anxiety to convince Hooker, Lyell, and Huxley that species were variable and changeable, and his rejoicing when Huxley wrote out his very guarded acceptance of the Darwinian version of organic evolution. We find it hard to conceive of Huxley, the "war-horse of Darwinism" reluctantly agreeing to most of Darwin's points, but at the same time voicing strong objections to others. And yet these very objections of Huxley's, made in 1859, were in 1921 paraded before an audience at one of the country's most famous universities as evidence against the truth of organic evolution!

In France, even more than in England, the "Origin of Species" was held in disapproval. A translation of the book was offered to a


text:
Author talk:John William Hall

John William Hall
https://www.thetreasury.org.nz/the-journal/john-william-hall Noracrentiss (talk) 22:46, 19 January 2024 (UTC)

title: Author talk:John William Hall


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YOUTH

.

261

How could he have let himself be so swept away! ... Pat stood before him in the doorway, and at once his bitter self-accusation sank into nothingness before the delight of her victorious charm. How could he have helped being carried away, loving her as he did! She tossed her hat on the table, her gloves at him and herself into the arm chair. ‘‘Now we can talk,” said she. “Yow begin.” At their morning meeting it had seemed to him that the indeterminate and hovering tragedy of the James household had aged and sobered Pat, given more of the womanly to her elfin fascination. Now she seemed again all gamine, provocative, elusive, challenging. He stood looking down at her gravely. “Owl-face!”” she mocked, protruding the tip of a red tongue.

“Pat, will you marry me?” The smile died from her eyes and lips. “How could we? You’re married.” “Pll get free.” “How can you?” “T’d rather not tell you.” “You’ve got to tell me,” she retorted imperiously. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve got to, if you insist. You’ve the right to know.” She softened.

“Have I?

Tell me, then.”

“T have—evidence.” He spoke with an effort. “Against your wife?” “Ves,”

“Why haven’t you used it before?” “T haven’t wanted to. And—I considered that it would not be entirely honourable.” “Jf it wasn’t honourable before, how is it now?” de: manded the keen Pat.

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Rh For them we wear these trusty arms, And lay them down no more Till we have driven the Briton, Forever, from our shore.


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 50 noted publisher of Paris, and was unceremoniously refused. The country which had praised Cuvier, and ridiculed Lamarck and St.-Hilaire was not going to receive willingly the contributions of an iconoclastic Englishman. We are not surprised to find Darwin depressed by the European reception of his theories, and writing to Huxley: "Do you know of any good and speculative foreigners to whom it would be worth while to send my book?"

But what was this "new" theory of evolution that so aroused the world? What were its characteristics, and how did if differ from the theories of Aristotle, Kant, Buffon, and Charles Darwin's own grandfather, Dr. Erasmus Darwin?

The theory of evolution set forth in the "Origin of Species" contained three principal factors: (1) the constant variation of animals and plants, (2) the struggle for existence, and (3) the natural selection of those organisms which possess variations which are of value to them in their attempt to keep alive.

The idea of variation was based upon simple observation. Dr. Herbert Walter has said that "variation is the most constant thing in nature," and paradoxical as that may seem, it is nevertheless true. No man looks exactly like another man, no tree exactly like another tree, no shell exactly like another shell. The Japanese artists appreciate this variation, and make use of their knowledge in painting, which is one of the reasons why their art is not readily appreciated by the occidental who is much in-