VIII.

The parlor at The Cedars was very different from that in the Craig

cottage. It was pretty and comfortable, with lamps that diffused a

cheerful, mellow glow over the lower half of the room and left the upper

in pleasantly mysterious gloom. There was much old-fashioned

furniture--such as the spindle-legged card table at which Miss Mullett

and the Doctor were deeply absorbed in cribbage--but enough comfortable

modern chairs had been provided to render martyrdom unnecessary. The

four windows were hung with bright creton and muslin, and the dull-green

carpet neither stared one out of countenance nor made one fearful to set

foot upon it. It was a jolly, chummy sort of carpet that seemed to say,

"Walk on me all you want to, and don't be afraid to spill your crumbs; I

like crumbs." A very large tortoise-shell cat lay stretched along the

arm of the couch, half asleep, and purred as Eve dipped her fingers in

the long fur. The windows on the side of the room were open and the

draperies swayed gently with the little breeze. Wade, seated at the

other end of the couch from his hostess, was feeling happy and

inexplicably elated.

"I feel quite guilty about this morning," Eve was saying. "I'm afraid I

wasn't very polite. Did I--did I smile?"

"If you didn't, you were a saint," answered Wade. "It's a wonder to me

you didn't howl!"

"It was funny, though, wasn't it? Now that it's all over, I mean; now

that I've apologized and Carrie has apologized for me and you've

apologized. You did look so--so utterly dumfounded!"

"I was!" replied Wade grimly. "For a moment I thought I'd had a

sunstroke or something and was out of my head. At first, when I came in

and saw you standing there, I thought--it was a foolish thing to think,

of course--but I thought you had come to call on me!"

"Again?"

"Again? I'm afraid I don't--"

"Now let's be honest, Mr. Herrick. You did see me the--the first time,

didn't you?"

"Just as you wish," laughed Wade. "I did or I didn't."

"You did. I wish you hadn't, but I know you did. I wonder what you

thought of me!"

"I--there wasn't much chance to think anything," answered Wade

evasively. "You didn't stay long enough."

"I was going by and saw the windows open and couldn't think what to make

of it, you see," she explained. "The cottage has been closed up so long

that it was quite breath-taking to see it open. My only idea was that it

was being aired out. So I thought I'd take a peep. I wanted to see

inside, for once I spent a whole day there with Aunt Mary, when I was

just a little bit of a girl, and I wondered whether it would look the

same. If you think you were surprised this morning when you came in and

found me confronting you, what do you suppose I was when I looked in

that window and right into your face? Don't you think we're quits now?"

"I reckon we are. Only you didn't make such an ass of yourself as I did.

You had presence of mind to get away. In fact you got away so quick I

wasn't sure whether I'd seen you or just imagined you. If I hadn't found

a lilac bloom on the ground out there I reckon I'd have been sort of

worried about myself."

"Did I drop it?"

"You must have. You're fond of it, aren't you?" He nodded at the tiny

spray tucked in the front of her white gown.

"Very. And I'm always sorry when it goes. This, I fear, is the very

last. It was later this year than usual; last summer it was almost all

gone when we got here."

"It's awfully sweet," said Wade. "Driving into the village the other day

the fragrance was almost the first thing that struck me. I reckon when I

go back West my memory of Eden Village will be perfumed with lilac.

"That's very pretty," said Eve. "Coup-ling lilacs with the West reminds

me of something that happened once when I was out there with papa."

Wade's glance wavered and shifted to the couple at the card table. She

knew, after all, or suspected!

"It was quite a few years ago. Papa was interested in some mines in

Nevada, and he took me out with him one spring on a business trip.

Coming back we stopped one morning at a little town. I don't remember

whether it was in Nevada or Colorado, and I've forgotten the funny,

outlandish name it had. There were just a few houses and stores there.

Papa and I got out of the Pullman and walked up and down the station

platform. Just across the road was a little frame house and in front of

it was a lilac bush just full of blooms. It seemed so strange to find

such a thing out there, and the blossoms were so lovely that I called

papa's attention to it. 'I do wish I could have some!' I said. There

were some men standing about the station, great big rough-looking men,

miners or ranchers, I suppose. One of them heard me and whipped off his

hat. 'Do the flowers please you, ma'am?' he asked. He looked so kind of

wild and ferocious that I was too startled to answer him at first,

'Cause if they do,' he went on, 'I'll get all you want.' 'Indeed they

do,' I said, 'but they're not yours, are they?' 'No, ma'am, they're

yourn,' he said. He pulled out a big knife, strode across to the bush

and began cutting the poor thing all to pieces. 'Oh, please don't!' I

cried. 'That's more than enough!' 'Just as you say, ma'am,' and he came

back with a dozen great branches of them. I took them and thanked him. I

told him it was dear of him to give them to me and I did hope he hadn't

spoiled his bush. He--he--well, he emptied his mouth of a great deal of

tobacco juice, wiped his big hand across it and said: 'It ain't my bush,

ma'am, but you're just as welcome to them lilocks as if it was. There

ain't nothin' in this town a pretty girl can't have for the askin'!'

Thank goodness, the conductor cried 'All aboard' just then and I ran up

the steps. There wasn't any reply I could have made to that, was there?

As the train went off we could see the other men on the platform

laughing and hitting my friend on the back, and enjoying it all greatly.

But wasn't it dear of him?"

"Yes," answered Wade, warmly. "They're like that out there, though rough

and uncultured, maybe, but kind and big-hearted underneath. I dare say

that incident made him feel so good that he went out and shot a

Greaser."

"Oh, I hope not!" laughed Eve. "But he looked as though he might have

shot dozens of them, one every morning for breakfast! The flowers lasted

me all the way to Chicago. The porter put them in the ice-water tank and

I picked fresh lilacs every day."

Wade wondered whether she had forgotten another incident, which must

have happened on the evening of that same day. He hoped she had, and

then he hoped she hadn't. If she recalled it she made no mention of it,

nor did the smiling unconsciousness of her face suggest that she

connected him with her trip in the remotest degree. He felt a little

bit aggrieved. It wasn't flattering to be forgotten so completely.

"You said your father was interested in some mines in Nevada. Do you

mind telling me the name?"

"The New Century Consolidated, they were called."

"Oh, that was too bad," exclaimed Wade, regretfully. "That property

never was any good. The whole thing was a swindle from first to last.

Was your father very badly hit?"

"Ruined," answered Eve, simply. "He had to sell everything he had. They

had made him a director, you see, and when the exposure came he paid up

his share. The lawyer said he didn't have to, but he insisted. He was

right, don't you think, Mr. Herrick?"

"No--well, perhaps. I don't know. It depends how you look at it, I

reckon."

"There was only one way to look at it, wasn't there? Either it was right

or it was wrong. Father believed it was right."

"So it was! But plenty of men would have hidden behind the law. I wish

your father might have bought into our property instead of the New

Century. I wanted Ed to write to him; we needed money badly at first,

and I'd heard Ed speak of him once; but he wouldn't do it; said his

uncle wouldn't have anything to do with any schemes of his."

"I'm afraid he was right," said Eve, sadly. "When I was a little girl my

father and Ed's father had some sort of a misunderstanding and would

never have anything to do with each other afterwards. It made it very

hard for mamma, for she and Aunt Mary were very fond of each other.

Please tell me about Cousin Edward, Mr. Herrick. I think I only saw him

once or twice in my life, but he was my cousin just the same, and now

that he's dead I suddenly realize that all the time I was unconsciously

taking a sort of comfort out of the knowledge that somewhere I had some

one that belonged to me, even if I never saw him and hardly knew him.

What was he like?"

"A big, silent, good-hearted fellow. I think there was a resemblance to

you, Miss Walton. He was dark complexioned, with almost black eyes,

but--there's something in your expression at times--that reminds me of

Ed." Wade frowned and studied the girl's face. "But I have a photograph

of him at the Camp. I'll send for it. Shall I?"

"It wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all. I'll just send a wire to Whitehead, the

superintendent. I met Ed in a queer way. It was at Cripple Creek. I'd

been there almost a year. After my mother died there wasn't anything to

keep me at home in Virginia, and there wasn't much money. So I hiked out

to Colorado, thinking about all I'd have to do was to cinch up my belt

and start to pick up gold nuggets in the streets. The best I could find

was work with a shovel in one of the mines over Victor way. Then I got

work in another mine handling explosives. I got in front of a missed

hole one fine day and was blown down a slope with about a hundred tons

of rock on top of me. As luck had it, however, the big ones wedged over

me and I wasn't hurt much, just scratched up a bit."

"But that was wonderful!" breathed Eve.

"Yes, it was sort of funny. I was covered up from one in the afternoon

until five, quite conscious all the time and pretty well scared. You

see, I couldn't help wondering just what would happen if the rocks

should settle. My eyes got the worst of it and I had to stay in the

hospital about a month. But I'm afraid I'm boring you. I was just

leading up to my meeting with Ed."

"Boring me! Don't be absurd! Then what happened?"

"Well, after I got out of the hospital I bought a burro and a tent and

hiked out for the Sangre--for the southern part of the State. I still

had some money coming to me for work when the trouble happened, and

after I got out I cashed an accident policy I'd luckily taken out a

month before. I stayed in the mountains pretty much all summer

prospecting. I found the biggest bunch of rock I'd ever seen, but no

yellow iron--I mean gold. Came sort of near starving before I got out. I

sold my outfit and went back to Cripple and struck another job with the

shovel and pick, digging prospect ditches. It was pretty tiresome work

and pretty cold, too. So when I'd got a month's wages I told the boss

he'd either have to put me underground or I'd quit. I said I was a miner

and not a Dago. You see, I felt independently rich with a month's wages

in my jeans--pockets, that is. The boss said I could quit. I've been

wondering ever since," laughed Wade, "whether I quit or was fired."

"That was lovely," said Eve. "Oh, dear, I've often wished I'd been a

man!"

"H'm; well, every one to his taste. But look here, Miss Walton, you're

certain I'm not boring you to death?"

"Quite. What did you do with all that money? And how much did a month's

wages amount to?"

"About ninety dollars. You get three a day and work seven days a week.

But, of course, I owed a good deal of that ninety by the time I got it.

Well, I paid my bills and then did a fool thing. I got my laundry out of

the Chinaman's, put on a stiff shirt and went over to Colorado Springs.

It just seemed that I had to have a glimpse of--well, you know;

respectability--dress clothes--music--flowers. I remember how stiff and

uncomfortable that shirt felt and how my collar scratched my neck. When

I got over to the Springs I ran across some folks I'd known back home in

Virginia. Richmond folks, they were. I dined with them and had a fine

time. I forgot to tell them I'd been pushing a shovel with the

Pinheads--that is, Swedes. They asked me to be sure and visit them when

I went back to Virginia for Christmas, for of course I would go! I told

'em I'd do that very thing. Rather a joke, wasn't it? If railroads had

been selling at forty dollars a pair I couldn't have bought a headlight!

I went back to Cripple the next day, having spent most of my money,

feeling sort of grouchy and down on my luck. That night I thought I'd

have a go at the wheel--roulette, you know. I'd steered pretty clear of

that sort of thing up to then, but I didn't much care that night what

happened. I only had about fifteen dollars and I played it dollar by

dollar and couldn't win once. Finally I was down to my last. I remember

I took that out of my pocket and looked at it quite awhile. Then I put

it back and started to go. But before I'd reached the door I concluded

that a dollar wasn't much better than none in Cripple, and so I went

back to the table. It was pretty crowded and I had to work my way in

until I could reach it. Just when I got my dollar out again and was

going to toss it on, blind, some one took hold of my arm and pulled me

around. I'd never seen the fellow before and I started to get peeved.

But he--may I use his words? They weren't polite, but they were

persuasive. Said he: 'Put that back in your pocket, you damned fool, and

come out of here."

Wade looked anxiously at his audience to see if she was shocked. She

didn't look so; only eager and sympathetic. He went on.

"Well, I went. He lugged me over to his room across the street and--and

was hospitable. He made me talk and I told him how I was fixed. He told

me who he was and said he thought he could find a job for me. And he

did. He was partner with a man named Hogan in an assay office and knew a

good many mine managers and superintendents. The next day I went to work

running an air-drill at four dollars a day. That's how I met Ed. We got

to be pretty good friends after that. Later I went over and roomed with

him. He was only two years older than I, but he always seemed about ten.

I told him about the Sangre--about the country I'd prospected in the

summer and we agreed to go over it together. In the spring, when the

snow was off, we started out. We bought a good outfit, two burros, a

good tent, and everything we could need. We expected to be away all

summer, but we struck gold about five weeks after we reached the

mountains. Struck it rich, too. All that summer we slaved like Dagoes

and by fall we had a prospect good enough to show any one. But we needed

money for development, and it was then I suggested to Ed that he write

to Mr. Walton. You see, I'd heard a good deal about his folks and about

Eden Village by that time. Evenings, after you've had supper and while

you're smoking your pipe, there isn't much to talk about except your

people and things back in God's country. And we'd told each other about

everything we knew by autumn. But Ed wouldn't consider his uncle; said

we'd have to find some one else to put in the money. So we had a

clean-up and I started East with a trunk full of samples and a pocket

full of papers. Ed gave me the names of some men to see. As luck had it,

I didn't have to go further than Omaha. The first man I tackled bit and

three months later we started development. Ed and I kept a controlling

interest. Now the--" Wade pulled himself up, gulped and hesitated--"the

mine is the richest in that district and is getting better all the

time."

"It's like a fairy tale, almost," said Eve.

"What is the name of the mine, Mr. Herrick?"

"Well--er--we usually just called it 'The Mine.' It isn't listed on the

exchange, you see. There aren't any shares on the market."

"Really? But I wasn't thinking of investing, Mr. Herrick," responded

Eve, dryly. "If there's any reason why I shouldn't know the name, that's

sufficient."

Wade observed her troubledly.

"I--I beg your pardon, Miss Walton. I didn't mean to be rude. The mine

has a name, of course, and--and sometime I'll tell it to you. But just

now--there's a reason--"

"It sounds," laughed Eve, "as though you were talking of a cereal

coffee. Indeed, though, I don't want to know if you don't want me to."

"But I do! That is--sometime--"

"I understand; it's a guilty secret. But you were telling me about my

cousin. When did he die, Mr. Herrick?"

"Last August. We'd both been working pretty hard and Ed was sort of run

down, I reckon. He got typhoid and went quick. I got him to Pueblo as

soon as I learned what the trouble was, but the doctor there said he

never had a chance. We buried him in Pueblo."

Wade was looking down at his roughened hands and spoke so low that Eve

had to bend forward a little to hear him.

"It--it was a pretty decent funeral," he added simply. "There were seven

carriages."

"Really?" she murmured.

"Yes." He raised his head and looked at her a trifle wistfully. "You

can't understand just what Ed's death meant to me, Miss Walton. You see,

he was about the only real friend I ever had, the only fellow I ever got

real close to. And he was such a thoroughbred, and--and was so darn--so

mighty good to me! I tell you, it sort of knocked me out for awhile."

"I'm sorry I didn't know him," said Eve, softly. "I'm sure I'd have

liked him as well as you did. And perhaps he'd have liked me."

"I'm sure of that," said Wade with conviction.

"I suppose he never spoke of me?"

"Only once, I think. Before he died he told me he had made a will and

left me his share of the mine and everything else he had. I--oh, well, I

didn't like it and said so. 'You'll have to take it,' he answered.

'There's no one else to leave it to; I've got no relatives left except

an uncle and a cousin, and they have all the money they need. You see,

he didn't know about--"

"I understand. And even had papa been alive he would have accepted

nothing from Edward, I'm certain."

"But you--"

"Nor I."

"I'm sorry to hear you say that," said Wade, frowningly. "I've been

thinking that perhaps--something might be done. There's so much money,

Miss Walton, and it doesn't belong to me. Don't you think--"

"No." Eve shook her head gently, but decisively. "It's nice of you to

want it, Mr. Herrick, but you mustn't think any more about it. Papa

would never have allowed me to accept any of Cousin Edward's property if

he had been alive, and I shan't do it now that he is dead. We won't

speak about that any more, please. Tell me how you came to visit Eden

Village. To see the house you'd inherited?"

"Yes. Ed wanted me to. He was very fond of this place and fond of the

house. 'I'd rather you always kept it,' he told me. 'If the time ever

comes when you have to sell it, all right; but until then see that it's

looked after and kept up.' So this summer, when I found I was going to

have a vacation--the first real one for six years, Miss Walton--I

decided that the first thing I'd do would be to come here and look after

Ed's place."

"Then yours is only a flying visit? I'm sorry."

"No, I think I shall stay some time," replied Wade. "I like it

immensely. It's so different from where I've been. And, besides, the

house needs looking after. I think I'll have it painted."

"Then you'll be sure to make mistakes," laughed Eve. "Or perhaps you'll

paint it a different color from this?"

"No, I shan't; white it must be. Then, you see, I'll have every excuse

for mistaking this house for my own."

"I hope you won't feel that you need an excuse to come here, Mr.

Herrick. We're not a ceremonious people here. We can't afford to be;

neighbors are too scarce."

Wade thanked her and there was a moment's silence. Then Eve, who had

been smilingly watching the players, turned with lowered voice.

"And sometimes when you come to see us, Mr. Herrick, won't you come

through the gate in the hedge, please?"

"Certainly," he answered, looking a little puzzled.

"Does that sound queer?" she asked with a soft laugh. "I suppose it

does. There was a time when the dwellers in your house and in mine used

that gate in the hedge as my poor old grandfather meant they should.

Perhaps I have a fancy to see it used so again. Or perhaps that isn't

the reason at all. You have your secret; we'll call this mine. Maybe

some day we'll tell our secrets."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, eagerly.

She hesitated a moment. Then, "If you like," she answered, smiling

across at him.

"Good! Then let us have it all shipshape, in contract form."

"Oh, you business men!"

"I hereby agree to tell you before I leave Eden Village the name of my

mine, and you agree to tell me why--why--"

"Why you are to come to see us by way of the gate in the hedge. Agreed,

signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of Miss Caroline Mullett

and Doctor Joseph Crimmins."

"Eh?" asked the Doctor. "What's that? I heard my name spoken, didn't I?"

"You did, Doctor, but quite respectfully," answered Eve.

"Respectfully!" grumbled the Doctor. "That's all age gets, just respect!

Thirty years ago, madam, you wouldn't have dared to respect me! I beg

your pardon, Miss Mullett; you are right, it is my first count.

Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, fifteen-six, and a pair's eight and one's

nine. And that puts me out!"

"Brute!" said Miss Mullett.

"Who won?" asked Eve.

"I, Miss Eve, but an empty victory since I have incurred this dear

lady's displeasure," replied the Doctor, arising. "I had the misfortune

to run out when she needed but one to win, an unpardonable crime in the

game of cribbage, Mr. Herrick."

"I'm not sure we wouldn't hang you for that out our way, Doctor," said

Wade, with a smile.

"Well, something ought to be done to him," grumbled Miss Mullett,

closing the cribbage box with a snap.

"Madam, leave me to the reproaches of my conscience," advised the

offender.

"Your conscience!" jeered Miss Mullett. "You haven't any. You're a

doctor."

[Illustration: "STERN IN HER ANGER, MR. HERRICK, BUT OF AN AMIABLE AND

FORGIVING DISPOSITION"]

"Mr. Herrick, let us be going, I pray.

"'From pole to pole the thunder roars aloud,

And broken lightnings flash from ev'ry cloud.'

"Besides which, sir, it is close upon ten o'clock, I see, the bed-hour

of our virtuous village. Miss Mullett, I shall pray for your

forgiveness. Miss Eve, I trust you to say a good word for me. If the

storm clears, do you hang a white handkerchief from the window there and

I, going by, will see it and be comforted." The Doctor laid a hand on

Wade's shoulder and, with a mischievous glance at Miss Mullett,

whispered hoarsely: "Stern in her anger, Mr. Herrick, but of an amiable

and forgiving disposition."

"I'll forgive you when I've had my revenge," answered Miss Mullett,

laughingly.

"Ah, the clouds break! Let us be gone, Mr. Herrick, while the sun shines

on our pathway!"

When the front door had closed Miss Mullett turned eagerly to Eve.

"Sit down, dear, and tell me! Was he nice? What did he say?"