Carlia's ringing cry persisted with Dorian all the way home, but he
hardened his heart and went steadily on. His mother had gone to bed, and
he sat for a time by the dying fire, thinking of what he had just passed
through.
After that, Dorian kept away from Carlia. Although the longing to see
her surged strongly through his heart from time to time, and he could
not get away from the thought that she was in some trouble, yet his
pride forbade him to intrude. He busied himself with chores and his
books, and he did not relax in his ward duties. Once in a while he saw
Carlia at the meeting house, but she absented herself more and more from
public gatherings, giving as an excuse to all who inquired, that her
work bound her more closely than ever at home.
Dorian and his mother frequently talked about Uncle Zed and the hopes
the departed one had of the young man. "Do you really think, mother,
that he meant I should devote my life to the harmonizing of science and
religion?" he asked.
"I think Uncle Zed was in earnest. He had great faith in you."
"But what do you think of it, mother?"
After a moment's thought, the mother replied.
"What do you think of it?"
"Well, it would be a task, though a wonderfully great one."
"The aim is high, the kind I would expect of you. Do you know, Dorian,
your father had some such ambition. That's one of the reasons we came
to the country in hopes that some day he would have more time for
studying."
"I never knew that, mother."
"And now, what if your father and Uncle Zed are talking about the matter
up there in the spirit world."
Dorian thought of that for a few moments. Then: "I'll have to go to the
University for four years, but that's only a beginning. Ill have to go
East to Yale or Harvard and get all they have. Then will come a lot of
individual research, and--Oh, mother, I don't know."
"And all the time you'll have to keep near to God and never lose your
faith in the gospel, for what doth it profit if you gain the whole world
of knowledge and lose your own soul." The mother came to him and ran her
fingers lovingly through his hair. "But you're equal to it, my son; I
believe you can do it."
This was a sample of many such discussions, and the conclusion was
reached that Dorian should work harder than ever, if that were possible,
for two or perhaps three years, by which time the farms could be rented
and the income derived from them be enough to provide for the mother's
simple needs and the son's expenses while at school.
Spring came early that year, and Dorian was glad of it, for he was eager
to be out in the growing world and turn that growth to productiveness.
When the warm weather came for good, books were laid aside, though not
forgotten. From daylight until dark, he was busy. The home farm was well
planted, the dry-farm wheat was growing beautifully. Between the two,
prospects were bright for the furthering of their plans.
"Mother, when and where in this great plan of ours, am I to get
married?"
Dorian and his mother were enjoying the dusk and the cool of the evening
within odorous reach of Mrs. Trent's flowers, many of which had come
from Uncle Zed's garden. They had been talking over some details of
their "plan." Mrs. Trent laughed at the abruptness of the question.
"Oh, do you want to get married?" she asked, wondering what there might
be to this query.
"Well--sometimes, of course, I'll have to have a wife, won't I?"
"Certainly, in good time; but you're in no hurry, are you?"
"Oh, no; I'm just talking on general principles. There's no one who
would have me now."
The mother did not dispute this. She knew somewhat of his feelings
toward Carlia. These lovers' misunderstandings were not serious, she
thought to herself. All would end properly and well, in good time.
But Carlia was in Dorian's thought very often, much to his bewilderment
of heart and mind. He often debated with himself if he should not
definitely give her up, cease thinking about her as being anything
to him either now or hereafter; but it seemed impossible to do that.
Carlia's image persisted even as Mildred's did. Mildred, away from the
entanglements of the world, was safe to him; but Carlia had her life to
live and the trials and difficulties of mortality to encounter and to
overcome; and that would not be easy, with her beauty and her impulsive
nature. She needed a man's clear head and steady hand to help her, and
who was more fitting to do that than he himself, Dorian thought without
conscious egotism.
If it were possible, Dorian always spent Sunday at home. If he was on
his dry farm in the hills, he drove down on Saturday evenings. One
Saturday in midsummer, he arrived home late and tired. He put up his
team, came in, washed, and was ready for the good supper which his
mother always had for him. The mother busied herself about the kitchen
and the table.
"Come and sit down, mother," urged Dorian.
"What's the fussing about! Everything I need is here on the table.
You're tired, I see. Come, sit down with me and tell me all the news."
"The news? what news!"
"Why, everything that's happened in Green street for the past week. I
haven't had a visitor up on the farm for ten days."
"Everything is growing splendidly down here. The water in the canal is
holding out fine and Brother Larsen is fast learning to be a farmer."
"Good," said Dorian. "Our dry wheat is in most places two feet high,
and it will go from forty to fifty bushels, with good luck. If now, the
price of wheat doesn't sag too much."
Dorian finished his supper, and was about to go to bed, being in need of
a good rest. His mother told him not to get up in the morning until she
called him.
"All right, mother," he laughed as he kissed her good night, "but don't
let me be late to Sunday School, as I have a topic to treat in the
Theological class. By heck, they really think I'm Uncle Zed's successor,
by the subjects they give me."
He was about to go to his room when his mother called him by name.
"Yes, mother, what is it?"
"You'll know tomorrow, so I might as well tell you now."
"Tell me what?"
"Some bad news."
"Bad news! What is it?"
The mother seemed lothe to go on. She hesitated.
"Well, mother?"
"Carlia is gone."
"Gone? Gone where?"
"Nobody knows. She's been missing for a week. She left home last
Saturday to spend a few days with a friend in the city, so she said.
Yesterday her father called at the place to bring her home and learned
that she had never been there."
"My gracious, mother!"
"Yes; it's terrible. Her father has inquired for her and looked for her
everywhere he could think of, but not a trace of her can he find. She's
gone."
Mother and son sat in silence for some time. He continued to ask
questions, but she know no more than the simple facts which she had
told. He could do nothing to help, at least, not then, so he reluctantly
went to bed. He did not sleep until past midnight.