Mary stood overwhelmed by the tragedy she had witnessed. For the time
her brain refused to record sensations. She had seen too much, felt too
much in the past eight hours. Soul and body were numb.
The first impressions of returning consciousness were fixed on Nance.
She had risen suddenly from the floor and smoothed the hair back from
Jim's forehead with tender touch as if afraid to wake him. She drew the
quilt from the kitchen floor, spread it over the body, and lifted her
eyes to Mary's. It was only too plain.
Reason had gone.
She tipped close and put her fingers on her lips.
“Sh! We mustn't wake him. He's tired. Let him sleep. It's my boy. He's
come home. We'll fix him a fine Christmas dinner. I've got a turkey.
I'll bake a cake----” she paused and laughed softly. “I've got eggs too,
fresh laid yesterday. We'll make egg-nog all day and all night. I ain't
had no Christmas since that devil stole him. We'll have one this time,
won't we?”
The girl's wits were again alert. She must run for help. A minute to
humor the old woman's delusion and she might return before any harm
came to her. Jim had not moved a muscle. It was plain that he was beyond
help.
“Yes,” Mary answered cheerfully. “You fix the cake--and I'll get the
wood to make a fire.”
Nance laughed again.
“We'll have the dinner all ready for him when he wakes, won't we?”
“Yes. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Nance hurried into the kitchen humming an old song in a faltering voice
that sent the cold chills down the girl's spine.
Mary slipped quietly through the door and ran with swift, sure foot down
the narrow road along which the machine had picked its way the afternoon
before. The cabin they had passed last could not be more than a mile.
She made no effort to find the logs for pedestrians when the road
crossed the brook. She plunged straight through the babbling waters with
her shoes, regardless of skirts.
Panting for breath, she saw the smoke curling from the cabin chimney a
quarter of a mile away.
“Thank God!” she cried. “They're awake!”
She was so glad to have reached her goal, her strength suddenly gave way
and she dropped to a boulder by the wayside to rest. In two minutes she
was up and running with all her might.
She rushed to the door and knocked.
A mountaineer in shirt-sleeves and stockings answered with a look of
mild wonder.
“For God's sake come and help me. I must have a doctor quick. We spent
the night at Mrs. Owens'. She's lost her mind completely--a terrible
thing has happened--you'll help me?”
“Cose I will, honey,” the mountaineer drawled. “Jest ez quick ez I get
on my shoes.”
“Is there a doctor near?” she asked breathlessly.
He answered without looking up:
“The best one that God ever sent to a sick bed. He don't charge nobody
a cent in these parts. He just heals the sick because hit's his callin'.
Come from somewhar up North and built hisself a fine log house up on
the side of the mountains. Hit's full of all the medicines in the world,
too----”
“Will you ask him to come for me?” Mary broke in.
“I'll jump on my hoss an' have him thar in half a' hour. You can run
right back, honey, and look out for the po' ole critter till we get
thar.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” she answered grate fully.
“Not at all, not at all!” he protested as he swung through the door
and hurried to the low-pitched sheds in which his horse and cow were
stabled. “Be thar in no time!”
When Mary returned, Nance was still busy in the kitchen. She had built a
fire and put the turkey in the oven.
Mary was counting the minutes now until the doctor should come. The old
woman's prattle about the return of her lost boy, so big and strong and
handsome, had become unendurable. She felt that she should scream and
collapse unless help came at once. She looked at her watch. It was just
thirty-five minutes from the time she had left the cabin in the valley
below.
She sprang to her feet with a smothered cry of joy. The beat of a
horse's hoof at full gallop was ringing down the road.
In two minutes the Doctor's firm footstep was heard at the kitchen door.
Nance turned with a look of glad surprise.
“Well, fur the land sake, ef hit ain't Doctor Mulford! Come right in!”
she cried.
The Doctor seized her hand.
“And how is my good friend, Mrs. Owens, this morning?” he asked
cheerfully.
Mary was studying him with deep interest. She had asked herself the
question a hundred times how much she could tell him--what to say and
what to leave unsaid. One glance at his calm, intellectual face was
enough. He was a man of striking appearance, six feet tall, forty-five
years of age, hair prematurely gray and a slight stoop to his broad
shoulders. His brown eyes seemed to enfold the old woman in their
sympathy.
Nance was chattering her answer to his greeting.
“Oh, I'm feelin' fine, Doctor--” she dropped her voice
confidentially--“and you're just in time for a good dinner. My boy that
was lost has come home. He's a great big fellow, wears fine clothes and
come up the mountain all the way in a devil wagon.” She put her hand
to her mouth. “Sh! He's asleep! We won't wake him till dinner! He's all
tired out.”
The Doctor nodded understandingly and turned toward Mary.
“And this young lady?”
“Oh, that's his wife from New York--ain't she purty?”
The Doctor saw the delicate hands trembling and extended his.
No word was spoken. None was needed. There was healing in his touch,
healing in his whole being. No man or woman could resist the appeal of
his personality. Their secrets were yielded with perfect faith.
“Come with me quickly,” Mary whispered.
“I understand,” he answered carelessly.
Turning again to Nance, he said with easy confidence:
“I'll not disturb you with your cooking, Mrs. Owens. Go right on with
it. I'll have a little chat with your son's wife. If she's from New York
I want to ask her about some of my people up there----”
“All right,” Nance answered, “but don't you wake HIM! Go with her inter
the shed-room.”
“We'll go on tip-toe!” the Doctor whispered.
Nance nodded, smiled and bent again over the oven.
Mary led him quickly through the living-room, head averted from the
couch, and into the prison cell in which she had passed the night. The
physician glanced with a startled look at the gold still scattered on
the floor.
She seized his hand and swayed.
He touched the brown hair of her bared head gently and pressed her hand.
“Steady, now, child, tell me quickly.”
“Yes, yes,” she gasped, “I'll tell you the truth----”
He held her gaze.
“And the whole truth--it's best.”
Mary nodded, tried to speak and failed. She drew her breath and steadied
herself, still gripping his hand.
“I will,” she began faintly. “He's dead----”
She paused and nodded toward the living-room.
“The man--her son?”
“Yes. We came last night from Asheville. We were on our honeymoon. We
haven't been married but three weeks. I never knew the truth about his
life and character until last night when he told me that this old woman
was his mother. I found a case of jewels in the bag he carried--jewels
that belonged to a man in New York who was robbed and shot. I recognized
the case. He confessed to me at last in cold, brutal words that he was
a thief. I couldn't believe it at first. I tried to make him give up his
criminal career. He laughed at me. He gloried in it. I tried to leave
him. He choked me into insensibility and drove me into this cell, where
I spent the night. He brought the gold that you saw on the floor which
he had honestly made to give to his old mother--but for a devilish
purpose. He showed it to her last night to rouse her avarice and make
her first agree to hide his stolen goods. He succeeded too well. Before
he had revealed himself she slipped into the room at daylight while he
slept in a drunken stupor, murdered him and took the money. The struggle
waked me and I rushed in. She gripped her knife to kill me. I told her
that she had murdered her own son and she went mad----”
She paused for breath and her lips trembled piteously.
“You know what to do, Doctor?”
“Yes!”
“And you'll help me?”
He smiled tenderly and nodded his head.
“God knows you need it, child!”
The nerves snapped at last, and she sank a limp heap at his feet.