"Do you wish to speak to me?"
"_Yes._"
"About your father?"
"_Yes._"
"Through my mother?"
Now came one of those baffling changes. The answer was faintly slow,
"Tick, tick," betraying uncertainty--and succeeding queries elicited no
response.
Victor, excited and eager, would have gone to his mother for aid had he
known where to find her room. The mood for marvels was upon him now, and
Altair and Margaret, and all the rest of the impalpable throng, seemed
waiting in the dusk and silence to communicate with him. Hopelessly wide
awake, he lay, while the big clock on the landing rang its little chime
upon the quarter hours, but no further sign was given him of the
presence of his intangible visitor; and at last the experience of the
day became as unsubstantial as his dreams.
He was awakened by the cackling of fowls and the bleating of calves and
lambs. The sun was shining through the leafy top of a tree which lay
almost against his window, and happy shadows were dancing like fairies
on the coverlet of his bed.
"It sounds like a real farm!" he drowsily murmured, filled with the
peace of those cries, which typify the most ancient and unchanging parts
of the cottager's life.
He had known only the poetic side of farm life. He had seen it, heard
it, tasted it only as the lad out for a holiday, and it all seemed
serene and joyous to him. To his mind the luxury of quietly dozing to
the music of a barn-yard was the natural habit of the farmer. He did not
attempt to rise till he heard the voice of his host from the lawn
beneath his window.
A half an hour later he found Bartol in the barn-yard surveying a span
of colts which his farmer was leading back and forth before him. They
were lanky, thin-necked creatures, but Victor knew enough of horses to
perceive in them signs of a famous breed of trotters.
"You are a real farmer," he said, as he came up to his host.
Bartol seemed pleased. "I made it pay five per cent. last year," he
responded, with pride. "Of course that means counting in my time as a
farmer, and not as a lawyer. How did you sleep?"
"Pretty well--when I got at it. I was a little excited and didn't go off
as I usually do when I hit the pillow."
"No wonder! I had a restless night myself." He nodded to the hostler.
"That will do," and turned away. "I gave a great deal of thought to your
mother's case. The fact seems to be that the human organism is a great
deal more complicated than we're permitted ourselves to admit, and the
tendency of the ordinary man is to make the habitual commonplace, no
matter how profoundly mysterious it may be at the outset. Of course at
bottom we know very little of the most familiar phenomenon. Why does
fire burn and water run? No one really knows."
They were facing the drive, which curved like a lilac ribbon through the
green of the lawn, and the estate to Victor's eyes had all the charm of
a park combined with the suggestive music of a farmstead.
"It's beautiful here!" he exclaimed.
"I'm glad you like it, and I hope you and your mother will stay till we
have put you both straight with the world."
"If I could only do something to pay my freight, Mr. Bartol. I feel like
a beggar and a fool to be so helpless. I was not expecting to be kicked
out of college, and I'm pretty well rattled, I'll confess."
"You keep your poise notably," the lawyer replied, with kindly glance.
"To be so suddenly introduced to the mystery and the chicanery of the
world would bewilder an older and less emotional man."
They breakfasted in a big room filled with the sunlight. Through the
open windows the scent of snowy flowers drifted, and the food and
service were of a sort that Victor had never seen. A big grape-fruit,
filled with sugar and berries; corn-cakes, crisp and golden; bacon
delicately broiled, together with eggs (baked in little earthen cups),
and last of all, coffee of such fragrance that it seemed to vie with the
odor of the flowers without. Each delicious dish was served deftly,
quietly, by a sweet-faced maid, who seemed to feel a filial interest in
her master.
The service was a revelation of the perfection to which country life can
be brought by one who has both wealth and culture; and Victor wondered
that any one could be sad amid such radiant surroundings.
"I can't see why you ever return to the city," he said, with conviction.
Bartol smiled. "That's the perversity of our human nature. If I were
forced to live here all the time the farm might pall upon me, just as if
all seasons were spring. As it is, I come back to it from the turmoil of
the town with never-cloying appetite. Per contra, these maids and my
farm-hands find a visit to the city their keenest delight. To them the
parks and the artificial ponds are more beautiful than anything in
nature." His tone changed. "In truth, I live on and do my work more from
force of habit than from zest. So far as I can, I get back to the simple
animal existence, where sun and air and food are the never-failing
pleasures. I try to forget that I am a pursuer of criminals. I return to
my work in the city, as I say, because it helps to keep my appetite for
the rural things. I can't afford to let silence and green trees pall
upon me. If I were a little more of a believer," he smiled, "I would say
that you and your mother had been sent to me, for of late I have been in
a deeper slough of despair than at any time since the death of my wife.
I am curious to see how all this is going to affect your mother. She may
find it very lonely here."
"Oh, I'm sure she will not."
"Well, now, I must be off. But before I go I will show you the
catalogues of my library; and perhaps I can bring home some books which
will bear on these occult subjects. I have given orders that no
information as to you shall go off the place; and your mother is safe
here. You may read, or hoe in the garden, or ride a horse."
"I wish I might go to the city with you."
"My judgment is against it. Stay here for a few days till we see which
way the wind is blowing." And with a cheery wave of his hand he drove
away, leaving Victor on the porch with the feeling of being marooned on
an island--a peaceful and beautiful island, but an island nevertheless.