When Sprowl galloped his sorrel mare across the bridge and up to the
O'Hara house, he saw a man and a young girl seated on the grass of the
river-bank, under the shade of an enormous elm.
Sprowl dismounted heavily, and led his horse towards the couple under
the elm. He recognized Munn in the thin, long-haired, full-bearded man
who rose to face him; and he dropped the bridle from his hand, freeing
the sorrel mare.
The two men regarded each other in silence; the mare strayed leisurely
up-stream, cropping the fresh grass; the young girl turned her head
towards Sprowl with a curious movement, as though listening, rather than
looking.
"Mr. Munn, I believe," said Sprowl, in a low voice.
"The Reverend Amasa Munn," corrected the Prophet, quietly. "You are
Peyster Sprowl."
Sprowl turned and looked full at the girl on the grass. The shadow of
her big straw hat fell across her eyes; she faced him intently.
Sprowl glanced at his mare, whistled, and turned squarely on his heel,
walking slowly along the river-bank. The sorrel followed like a dog;
presently Munn stood up and deliberately stalked off after Sprowl,
rejoining that gentleman a few rods down the river-bank.
"Well," said Sprowl, turning suddenly on Munn, "what are you doing
here?"
From his lank height Munn's eyes were nevertheless scarcely level with
the eyes of the burly president.
"I'm here," said Munn, "to sell the land."
"I thought so," said Sprowl, curtly. "How much?"
Munn picked a buttercup and bit off the stem. With the blossom between
his teeth he surveyed the sky, the river, the forest, and then the
features of Sprowl.
"How much?" asked Sprowl, impatiently.
Munn named a sum that staggered Sprowl, but Munn could perceive no
tremor in the fat, blank face before him.
"And if we refuse?" suggested Sprowl.
Munn only looked at him.
Sprowl repeated the question.
"Well," observed Munn, stroking his beard reflectively, "there's that
matter of the title."
This time Sprowl went white to his fat ears. Munn merely glanced at him,
then looked at the river.
"I will buy the title this time," said Sprowl, hoarsely.
"You can't," said Munn.
A terrible shock struck through Sprowl; he saw through a mist; he laid
his hand on a tree-trunk for support, mechanically facing Munn all the
while.
"Can't!" he repeated, with dry lips.
"No, you can't buy it."
"Why?"
"O'Hara's daughter has it."
"But--she will sell! Won't she sell? Where is she?" burst out Sprowl.
"She won't sell," said Munn, studying the ghastly face of the president.
"You can make her sell," said Sprowl. "What is your price?"
"I can't make her sell the title to your club property," said Munn.
"She'll sell this land here. Take it or leave it."
"If I take it--will _you_ leave?" asked Sprowl, hoarsely.
Munn smiled, then nodded.
"And will that shut your mouth, you dirty scoundrel?" said Sprowl,
gripping his riding-crop till his fat fingernails turned white.
"It will shut _my_ mouth," said Munn, still with his fixed smile.
"How much extra to keep this matter of the title quiet--as long as I
live?"
"As long as you live?" repeated Munn, surprised.
"Yes, I don't care a damn what they say of me after I'm dead," snarled
Sprowl.
Munn watched him for a moment, plucked another buttercup, pondered,
smoothed out his rich, brown, silky beard, and finally mentioned a
second sum.
Sprowl drew a check-book from the breast-pocket of his coat, and filled
in two checks with a fountain pen. These he held up before Munn's
snapping, yellowish eyes.
"This blackmail," said Sprowl, thickly, "is paid now for the last time.
If you come after me again you come to your death, for I'll smash your
skull in with one blow, and take my chances to prove insanity. And I've
enough money to prove it."
Munn waited.
"I'll buy you this last time," continued Sprowl, recovering his
self-command. "Now, you tell me where O'Hara's child is, and how you are
going to prevent her from ever pressing that suit which he dropped."
"O'Hara's daughter is here. I control her," said Munn, quietly.
"You mean she's one of your infernal flock?" demanded Sprowl.
"One of the Shining Band," said Munn, with a trace of a whine in his
voice.
"Where are the papers in that proceeding, then? You said O'Hara burned
them, you liar!"
"She has them in a box in her bedroom," replied Munn.
"Does she know what they mean?" asked Sprowl, aghast.
"No--but I do," replied Munn, with his ominous smile.
"How do you know she does not understand their meaning?"
"Because," replied Munn, laughing, "she can't read."
Sprowl did not believe him, but he was at his mercy. He stood with his
heavy head hanging, pondering a moment, then whistled his sorrel. The
mare came to him and laid her dusty nose on his shoulder.
"You see these checks?" he said.
Munn assented.
"You get them when you put those papers in my hands. Understand? And
when you bring me the deed of this cursed property here--house and all."
"A week from to-day," said Munn; his voice shook in spite of him. Few
men can face sudden wealth with a yawn.
"And after that--" began Sprowl, and glared at Munn with such a fury
that the Prophet hastily stepped backward and raised a nervous hand to
his beard.
"It's a square deal," he said; and Sprowl knew that he meant it, at
least for the present.
The president mounted heavily, and sought his bridle and stirrups.
"I'll meet you here in a week from to-day, hour for hour; I'll give you
twenty-four hours after that to pack up and move, bag and baggage."
"Done," said Munn.
"Then get out of my way, you filthy beast!" growled Sprowl, swinging his
horse and driving the spurs in.
Munn fell back with a cry; the horse plunged past, brushing him, tearing
out across the pasture, over the bridge, and far down the stony road
Munn heard the galloping. He had been close to death; he did not quite
know whether Sprowl had meant murder or whether it was carelessness or
his own fault that the horse had not struck him and ground him into the
sod.
However it was, he conceived a new respect for Sprowl, and promised
himself that if he ever was obliged to call again upon Sprowl for
financial assistance he would do it through a telephone.
A dozen women, dressed alike in a rather pretty gray uniform, were
singing up by the house; he looked at them with a sneer, then walked
back along the river to where the young girl still sat under the elm.
"I want to talk to you," he said, abruptly, "and I don't want any more
refusals or reasons or sentiments. I want to see the papers in that
steel box."
She turned towards him in that quaint, hesitating, listening attitude.
"The Lord," he said, more cheerfully, "has put it into my head that we
must journey once more. I've had a prayerful wrestle out yonder, and I
see light. The Lord tells me to sell this land to the strangers without
the gates, and I'm going to sell it to the glory of God."
"How can you sell it?" said the girl, quietly.
"Isn't all our holdings in common?" demanded Munn, sharply.
"You know that I am not one of you," said the girl.
"Yes, you are," said Munn; "you don't want to be because the light has
been denied you, but I've sealed you and sanctified you to the Shining
Band, and you just can't help being one of us. Besides," he continued,
with an ugly smile, "I'm your legal guardian."
This was a lie; but she did not know it.
"So I want to see those papers," he added.
"Why?" she asked.
"Oh, legal matters; I've got to examine 'em or I can't sell this land."
"Father told me not to open the box until ... I found an ... honest
man," she said, steadily.
Munn glared at her. She had caught him in a lie years ago; she never
forgot it.
"Where's the key?" he demanded.
She was silent.
"I'll give you till supper-time to find that key," said Munn,
confidently, and walked on towards the house.
But before he had fairly emerged from the shadow of the elm he met
Lansing face to face, and the young man halted him with a pleasant
greeting, asking if he were not the Reverend Doctor Munn.
"That's my name," said Munn, briefly.
"I was looking for Mr. Sprowl; I thought to meet him here; we were to
speak to you about the netting of trout in the river," said Lansing,
good-humoredly.
Munn regarded him in sulky silence.
"It won't do," continued Lansing, smiling; "if you net trout you'll have
the wardens after you."
"Oh! and I suppose you'll furnish the information," sneered Munn.
"I certainly will," replied Lansing.
Munn had retraced his steps towards the river. As the men passed before
Eileen O'Hara, Lansing raised his cap. She did not return his salute;
she looked towards the spot where he and Munn had halted, and her face
bore that quaint, listening expression, almost pitifully sweet, as
though she were deaf.
"Peter, our head-keeper, saw you netting trout in that pool last night,"
said Lansing.
Munn examined the water and muttered that the Bible gave him his
authority for that sort of fishing.
"He's a fake," thought Lansing, in sudden disgust. Involuntarily he
glanced around at the girl under the elm. The beauty of her pale face
startled him. Surely innocence looked out of those dark-blue eyes, fixed
on him under the shadow of her straw hat. He noted that she also wore
the silvery-gray uniform of the elect. He turned his eyes towards the
house, where a dozen women, old and young, were sitting out under the
tree, sewing and singing peacefully. The burden of their song came
sweetly across the pasture; a golden robin, high in the elm's feathery
tip, warbled incessant accompaniment to the breeze and the flowing of
water and the far song of the women.
"We don't mean to annoy you," said Lansing, quietly; "I for one believe
that we shall find you and your community the best of courteous
neighbors."
Munn looked at him with his cunning, amber-yellow eyes and stroked his
beard.
"What do you want, anyway?" he said.
"I'll tell you what I want," said Lansing, sharply; "I want you and
your people to observe the game laws."
"Keep your shirt on, young man," said Munn, coarsely, and turned on his
heel. Before he had taken the second step Lansing laid his hand on his
shoulder and spun him around, his grip tightening like a vise.
"What y' doing?" snarled Munn, shrinking and squirming, terrified by the
violent grasp, the pain of which almost sickened him.
Lansing looked at him, then shoved him out of his path, and carefully
rinsed his hands in the stream. Then he laughed and turned around, but
Munn was making rapid time towards the house, where the gray-clad women
sat singing under the neglected apple-trees. The young man's eyes fell
on the girl under the elm; she was apparently watching his every
movement from those dark-blue eyes under the straw hat.
He took off his cap and went to her, and told her politely how amiable
had been his intentions, and how stringent the game laws were, and
begged her to believe that he intended no discourtesy to her community
when he warned them against the wholesale destruction of the trout.
He had a pleasant, low voice, very attractive to women; she smiled and
listened, offering no comment.
"And I want to assure you," he ended, "that we at the club will always
respect your boundaries as we know you will respect ours. I fear one of
our keepers was needlessly rude last night--from his own account. He's
an old man; he supposes that all people know the game laws."
Lansing paused; she bent her head a trifle. After a silence he started
on, saying, "Good-morning," very pleasantly.
"I wish you would sit down and talk to me," said the girl, without
raising her head.
Lansing was too astonished to reply; she turned her head partly towards
him as though listening. Something in the girl's attitude arrested his
attention; he involuntarily dropped on one knee to see her face. It was
in shadow.
"I want to tell you who I am," she said, without looking at him. "I am
Eily O'Hara."
Lansing received the communication with perfect gravity. "Your father
owned this land?" he asked.
"Yes; I own it now, ... I think."
He was silent, curious, amused.
"I think I do," she repeated; "I have never seen my father's will."
"Doubtless your lawyer has it," he suggested.
"No; I have it. It is in a steel box; I have the key hanging around my
neck inside my clothes. I have never opened the box."
"But why do you not open the box?" asked Lansing, smiling.
She hesitated; color crept into her cheeks. "I have waited," she said;
"I was alone; my father said--that--that--" She stammered; the rich
flush deepened to her neck.
Lansing, completely nonplussed, sat watching the wonderful beauty of
that young face.
"My father told me to open it only when I found an honest man in the
world," she said, slowly.
The undertone of pathos in her voice drove the smile from Lansing's
lips.
"Have you found the world so dishonest?" he asked, seriously.
"I don't know; I came from Notre Dame de Sainte Croix last year. Mr.
Munn was my guardian; ... said he was; ... I suppose he is."
Lansing looked at her in sympathy.
"I am not one of the community," she said. "I only stay because I have
no other home but this. I have no money, ... at least I know of none
that is mine." Lansing was silent and attentive.
"I--I heard your voice; ... I wanted to speak to you--to hear you speak
to me," she said. A new timidity came into her tone; she raised her
head. "I--somehow when you spoke--I felt that you--you were honest." She
stammered again, but Lansing's cool voice brought her out of her
difficulty and painful shyness.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"I'm Dr. Lansing," he said.
"Will you open my steel box and read my papers for me?" she inquired,
innocently.
"I will--if you wish," he said, impulsively; "if you think it wise. But
I think you had better read the papers for yourself."
"Why, I can't read," she said, apparently surprised that he should not
know it.
"You mean that you were not taught to read in your convent school?" he
asked, incredulously.
A curious little sound escaped her lips; she raised both slender hands
and unpinned her hat. Then she turned her head to his.
The deep-blue beauty of her eyes thrilled him; then he started and
leaned forward, closer, closer to her exquisite face.
"My child," he cried, softly, "my poor child!" And she smiled and
fingered the straw hat in her lap.
"Will you read my father's papers for me?" she said.
"Yes--yes--if you wish. Yes, indeed!" After a moment he said: "How long
have you been blind?"