The door of the bungalow stood wide open. Mary paused in rapture over
the rich beds of wood violets that carpeted the spaces between the drive
and the log walls.
“Aren't they beautiful!” she cried. “A perfect carpet of dazzling green
and purple!”
“Come right in,” the Doctor urged from the steps. “My neighbor's a
patient of mine. He hasn't moved in yet but he told me always to make
myself at home.”
Mary lifted the boy from his wagon, tied the goat and led the child
into the house. The Doctor showed her through without comment. None was
needed. The woman's keen eye saw at a glance the perfection of care with
which the master builder had wrought the slightest detail of every
room. The floors were immaculate native hard-wood--its grain brought out
through shining mirrors of clean varnish. There was not one shoddy piece
of work from the kitchen sink to the big open fireplace in the spacious
hall and living-room.
“It's exquisite!” she exclaimed at last. “It seems all
hand-made--doesn't it?”
“It is, too. The owner literally built it with his own hands--a work of
love.”
“For himself?” Mary asked with a smile.
“For the woman he loves, of course! My neighbor's a sort of crank and
insisted on expressing himself in this way. Come, I want you to see two
rooms upstairs.”
He led her into the room Jim had built for his wife.
“Observe this furniture, if you please.”
“Don't tell me that he built that too?” she laughed.
“That's exactly what I'm going to tell you.”
“Impossible!” she protested. “Why, the line and finish would do credit
to the finest artisan in America.”
“So I say. Look at the perfect polish of that table! It's like the
finish of a rosewood piano.” He touched the smooth surface.
“Of course you're joking?” Mary answered. “No amateur could have done
such work.”
“So I'd have said if I had not seen him do it.”
“What on earth possessed him to undertake such a task?”
“The love of a beautiful woman--what else?”
“He learned a trade--just to furnish this room with his own hand?”
“Yes.”
“His love must be the real thing,” she mused.
“That's what I've said. Look at this iron work, too--the stately
andirons in that big fireplace, the shovel, the tongs, and the massive
strop-hinges on the doors.”
“He did that, too?” she asked in amazement.
“Every piece of iron on the place he beat out with his own hand at his
forge.”
“And all for the love of a woman? The age of romance hasn't passed after
all, has it?”
“No.”
Mary paused before the window looking south.
“What a glorious view!” she cried. “It's even grander than yours,
Doctor.”
“Yes. I claim some of the credit, though, for that. I helped him lay out
the grounds.”
“Who is this remarkable man?” she asked at last.
“A friend of mine. I'll introduce him directly. He should be here at any
moment now.”
“We're intruding,” Mary whispered. “We must go. I mustn't look any more.
I'll be coveting my neighbor's house.”
The doctor turned to the window and signaled to someone on the lawn, as
Mary hurried down the stairs.
She fairly ran into Jim, who was being pulled into the house by the boy.
“'Ook, Mamma! 'Ook! I found a Daddy! He says he be my Daddy if you let
him. Please let him. I want a Daddy, an' I like him. Please!”
Jim blushed and trembled and lifted his eyes appealingly, while Mary
stood white and still watching him in a sort of helpless terror.
The child moved on to his wagon.
“Say, little girl,” Jim began in low tones, “it's been a thousand years
since I saw you. Don't drive me away--just give me one chance for God's
sake and this baby's that He sent us! I've gone straight. I've sent back
every dishonest dollar. I'm earning a clean living down here and a good
one. I've practiced for two years cutting out the slang, too.”
He paused for breath and she turned her head away.
“Just listen a minute! I know I was a beast that night. I'm not the same
now. I've been through the fires of hell and I've come out a cleaner
man. Let me show you how much I love you! Life's too short, but just
give me a chance. If I could undo that awful hour when I hurt you so,
I'd crawl 'round the world on my hands and knees--and I'll show you that
I mean it! I built this house for you and the baby.”
Mary turned suddenly with wide dilated eyes.
“You--YOU built this house?” she gasped.
“I've worked on it every hour, day and night, the past two years when
I wasn't earning a living in the mine. I made every stick of that
furniture in the rooms up there--for you and my boy. The house is
yours--whether you let me stay or not.”
“I--I can't take it, Jim,” she faltered.
“You've got to, girlie. You can't throw a gift like this back in a
fellow's face--it cost too much! Your money's all gone. You've got to
bring up that kid. He's mine, too. I'm man enough to support my wife and
baby and I'm going to do it. I don't care what you say. You've got to
let me. I'm going to work for you, live for you and die for you--whether
you stay with me or not. I've got the right to do that, you know.”
She lifted her head and faced him squarely for the first time, amazed at
the new dignity and strength of his quiet bearing.
“You HAVE changed, Jim----”
Her eyes sought the depths of his soul in a moment's silence, and she
slowly extended her hand:
“We'll try again!”
He bent and kissed the tips of her fingers reverently.
They stood for a moment hand in hand and looked over the sunlit valley
of the Swannanoa shimmering in peace and beauty between its sheltering
walls of blue mountains. The bees were humming spring music among the
flowers at their feet and the faint odor of fruit trees in blossom came
from the orchard Jim had planted two years before.
“I'll show you, little girl--I'll show you!” he whispered tensely.