Joyce had walked a long way on a long gray ribbon of road before it
wound up hill and she began to realize where her steps were turning. Up
there on the top was the dark outline of the old Hill Church, its spire
a black dart against the luminous night sky. A fitful moon gleamed
palely and showed it for a moment, still and gray like a little lone
dove asleep, and about it clustered the white stones of the graveyard
on the side of the hill sloping down toward the valley. One tall shaft
showed where lay the dust of the rich, old, good man who gave the
land and built the church, and others less pretentious flocked close
at hand, a little social clique of the select dead who had clung to
the old church through the years of their life, who there had been
christened, married and buried.
With a catch in her breath like a sob Joyce hurried on, realizing that
it was here her heart was longing to go, where she had left all that
was mortal of her precious Aunt Mary.
It was not that she had any feeling that the spirit she loved was
lingering there near its worn out earthly habitation, it was only that
the earth seemed so alien and she so alone that it did her good to
creep away to the quiet mound that some kind neighbor had already made
velvety with close shaved turf.
She felt her way to the place, close beside the mound where her mother
had been laid. They had always kept it neat and carefully tended when
her aunt was alive, and now she sank down between the two graves with
her hands spread broodingly, anguishingly over the tender grass, and
her face dropped down on its coolness. How long she lay there she did
not know. The hot tears flowed relievingly down her cheeks and fell
into the cool grass, and overhead the quiet sky, with the single star
in a clearing among the floating clouds, and now and then the serene,
busy moon above it all, quite as if the world was going as it should
even though hearts were being broken.
A sense of peace stole gradually upon her, and the ache drifted out of
her weary limbs, and out of her lonely heart. It was almost as if some
comfort had stolen upon her from the quiet grass, and the busy, serene
heaven above. She did not feel afraid. She had no sense of the presence
of her aunt, only a deep, sweet understanding that this little spot was
sacred and here she might think entirely unmolested.
It might be that she slept for a space, for she was very weary and the
day had been so hard, but she was not sure. Rather it was as if she
were just resting, as she used to rest in her mother’s arms and be
rocked, long ago, the first thing she could remember. The sense of her
troubles, and her terrible situation had slipped away from her. She was
just resting, not thinking. When suddenly the sound of voices--voices
quite near, broke upon her, as if they had suddenly rounded the hill
and were close at hand, coming on. Cautious voices, albeit, with a
carrying sibilant, and something familiar about one of them. She could
not tell why they struck terror to her soul, nor at what instant she
realized that they were not just foot travellers going on by, but were
coming toward her. She found herself trembling from head to foot.
“Look out there, Kid,” said the familiar voice, “Don’t skid over that
poor stiff. Those headstones aren’t easy to play with and we can’t
afford to lose any of this catch. Its worth it’s weight in gold you
know, rare antique! We ought to make about four hundred bucks apiece
out of this lot if we place it wisely.”
The footsteps came on, and suddenly as the moon swept out from the
clouds for an instant she saw four dark figures silhouetted against
the lighter darkness of the road, stealing slowly into the cemetery
among the graves carrying burdens between them, heavy, bulky, shrouded
burdens. The hurrying clouds obliterated everything again, but she
could hear the soft thud of their feet, as they slowly felt their way.
An occasional dart of light from a pocket flash flickered fitfully on a
headstone here and there as she watched with bated breath. They seemed
to be coming straight toward her, and for an instant she thought of
trying to flee, but a great weakness overcame her, so that she could
hardly breathe, and it seemed impossible to rise. Then the flashlight
jabbed into her very eyes, and she crouched against the sod and wished
there were some way to get down beneath it out of sight.
“What was that, Kid?” the voice whispered. The tiny flash fluttered
here and there on the grass all about her as she crouched. In a moment
they would be upon her. It seemed the culmination of all the terrible
day. Her heart throbbed painfully, while she waited a long minute,
hearing distinctly the oncoming feet swishing softly in the grass, the
labored breathing of those who carried the heavy burden, the cautious
whispers, and then, could it be? They were only two graves away. They
were passing by. They were going toward the back part of the cemetery.
She lay absolutely motionless listening for what seemed hours. The soft
thud of burdens laid down was followed by the sound of a spade plunged
deep in the earth, and the ring of metal as it was drawn forth and hit
against a stone.
By and by she gained courage to open her eyes and then to lift her head
cautiously and glance about. Her frightened heart almost stifled her
with its wild beating. The sky was luminous off to the east and against
it the five dark figures were darkly visible, three with shovels, and
one with a pick, the fifth watching, directing, occasionally flashing
a spot of light on a particular place. On the ground a long line of
something dark like a box or boxes. Had they murdered some one and come
to bury him in the night, or were they grave robbers? She found herself
shuddering in the darkness, and when she put a trembling hand to her
brow it was cold and wet with perspiration.
She began to wonder if she dared to try and get away, and measured the
distance with her eye. The men seemed so close when she considered
making a move, especially the one with the flashlight! Its merciless
eye would be sure to search her out if she attempted flight. Perhaps
it would be safer to lie still till they went away and trust that they
would go out by the same path they had entered and not discover her.
Yet when she tried to relax and wait she was trembling so that it
seemed as if the very cords that held her being together were loosed
and she was slowly becoming useless like Dorothea’s big bisque doll
that lay on a trunk in the attic with its head and arms lolling at the
end of emaciated rubber cords. She had a frightened feeling that if she
lay still very long she would become unable ever to move again, the
sensation that comes in nightmare.
Then into her frenzied mind came the thought of Eugene and Nannette
and how triumphant they would be if they knew she was going through
this agony. They would say it was good punishment for her behavior, a
just reward for her headstrong actions. Had she been wrong in going
away as she did? Had they been right to insist on her giving up the
examinations? Somehow her conscience, hard pressed as she was, could
not see that they had a right to keep her from the only way she knew
of earning her living. Somehow she could not feel that any law,
either physical or moral laid any obligation upon her to stay with
the children when the mother had known for three weeks of her coming
examinations, and when she often of her own accord let them take their
lunch to school if it happened to suit her own convenience. Junior
might have been hurt playing ball at recess as well as at noon, and
he always played ball at recess. No, her conscience was clear on that
score. She had a perfect right to put herself in the way of not being
dependent upon them financially, and the school teaching was the only
way she knew to do it. Still, of course it was all over now. She had
gone away from any chance that might have come to her through those
examinations, gone out into space alone without any goal or any plan.
She might have done that in the first place of course if she had known
they were going to act that way. Well it couldn’t be helped now. She
had gone and nothing would induce her to go back. Perhaps when she
found a home, if she found a home, she might send back to find out the
result of her hard work. It might do her some good somewhere else. But
she was too tired now, and too frightened to think about it.
She stole another glance toward the invaders. They seemed to be arguing
in whispers about something, gesticulating, pointing. Perhaps she might
manage to slip away while they were absorbed without their notice.
She made a soft little move to sit up, and as she put out her arm to
steady herself the metal chain of her handbag clinked just the faintest
little bit against the iron pipe of the low fence that surrounded the
neighboring grave. Instantly everything was silent among the group of
men, the dark figures as if they had been but shadows crouched out of
sight, only the alert head and shoulders of one showed dimly against
the luminous spot in the sky. She could feel that their eyes were
focused upon her as if they had been spotlights out of the darkness.
She did not dare to move even to relax her fingers which had been
stretched to grasp the iron rail. Her breath was suspended midway, and
in the whole wide, peaceful acre the air seemed tense as though the
very dead were waiting with her for the outcome.
“Oh, God!” she prayed, “Oh, God! Help me now!”
It was the first time since Aunt Mary’s death that she felt herself
to have really prayed. Somehow her heart had seemed stunned since the
funeral, and when she said the words of prayer with her lips there
had been such empty ache in her heart that they had not seemed to mean
anything. Now in her great need she had the distinct realization of
crying out to a God upon whom she relied and whom her faith of the
years had tested. And just as distinctly she felt the surety that He
was there. He had answered.
It was as if that cry for help was a surrender, a committing of her way
to Him. As if she had said: “Here am I. I am yours. However right or
wrong I may have been to have put myself into this situation I am here
and helpless. If I am worth anything at all to you save me for I cannot
save myself. I am giving my future into your hands.”
Of course there was no such logical sequence of thought or word in the
swift flash of her appeal, but afterwards she was aware it had been a
commitment and a covenant.
As if an answer of assurance had come a calm came upon her. Her breath
moved on, her heart beat naturally. The tensity of the air seemed gone.
The dark shadows by the pile of dirt stirred. A low murmur passed among
them. They moved and came upright again. Their eyes ceased to pierce
her like spot lights. They moved with ease and took up their shovels.
One even laughed in a low, half nervous tone. Only one still stood and
watched, his attitude alert, not satisfied that the danger was passed.
He murmured a low warning.
“Aw! What’s eatin’ ye?” another replied jocularly. “D’ye think the dead
can walk? It’s just a wild rabbit jumpin’ amongst the gravel.”
“Wild rabbits aren’t metal shod,” said the familiar voice seeming to
come from a face looking her way, and she knew that one at least of the
shadowy figures had not ceased to watch and listen.
It seemed hours that she lay there holding her breath, afraid to stir
lest they come her way, yet feeling an impulse within her to get away.
For at any moment they might come out and walk right in the path by
her side. They could not fail to see her if they passed that way. Dear
Aunt Mary lying so quietly beneath the sod! How good that she was not
really there herself, that she could not know the peril she was in! Or
was she perhaps near in spirit? Did God ever let those who had gone to
live with Him come to guard and help those they had left behind? But at
least she was not worried, for in heaven none could worry, being with
the great God who knew all, and whose power was over all. God would
not really let anything hurt her. She had cried for help and he would
eventually bring her out of all this into safety.
The assurance that came with these swift thoughts made her calmer,
and finally gave her courage to begin slowly to move a hand and foot
out toward the path. There was a sound of soft thudding of the spade
against the turf as if it were being replaced over the excavation and
the men would soon be returning to the road. If she would escape unseen
it must be done at once.
Slowly, cautiously, she put out her hand and firmly grasped the rail of
the low fence surrounding the next little lot. The cold iron steadied
her, and she next moved her foot with a motion so slow and cautious
that there was absolutely no sound from it. But it was a work of time.
Would the time hold out until she had removed herself entirely from the
line of their possible route?
After the other foot had changed its place somewhat she was able to
lift her whole body and move it over several inches into the path
without perceiving any sign that she had been heard or seen. Pausing
to take a deep breath, and holding her body steady a few inches above
the ground she cautiously began to move forward. It reminded her of
those moving pictures of divers and tennis players who by a slower
manipulation of the machine are made to perform their tricks in
measured rhythm so that every stage of the action can be observed.
It meant perfect control of every muscle of the body. It meant deep
breathing and a calm mind to perform the feat, and sometimes the wild
beating of her frightened heart made her feel that she must just drop
in the grass where she was and give it up. Besides her whole body was
trembling with weariness and excitement of the long, hard day, and her
nerves were spent. Big tears welled into her eyes and dropped into the
grass but she was unaware of them. Only her will kept her moving or
held her back when she would have jumped to her feet and run screaming
from the place; only her sense that God was near somewhere and would
help her, kept her mind steady enough to direct her movements. And
sometimes, as she moved inch by inch away from the direct line of the
men it seemed so slow, so impossible that she could ever get away that
she almost fell down.
She had crawled thus on hands and knees some twenty feet, and was just
considering the wisdom of turning her course a little farther to the
left before striking toward the road, when suddenly she heard a low
murmur among the men and glancing back saw that they had shouldered
their implements and were about to start away.
Fear overcame her and made her forget caution, and she lifted one hand
with a sudden movement to hasten, grasping the handbag tightly and once
more the tinkling chains, slipping from between her tired fingers,
struck against a headstone and gave forth a weird little sound.
Instantly there was silence for the space of about a second, the four
men frozen into attention. Then stealthily, his body ducked low,
one of them crouched and came forward. Almost silently he came, but
she knew he was coming straight toward her. She was paralyzed with
fear. She felt she could not move another fraction of an inch, could
not any longer hold on to that cold, smooth stone she had grasped,
could not draw herself out of sight behind a marble shaft that loomed
benevolently close at hand. Then the realization that in a moment more
he would be upon her gave strength to her weakness. Who knew what
desperate criminals these might be? Grave robbers would not hesitate
to dig a new grave and hide a victim in it where no one would ever
suspect. Whatever they had been doing it was evident they did not wish
it known, and it would go hard with any one who might be feared as an
eavesdropper. The thought gave wings to her feet as she stumbled up and
flew away in the darkness among the shadowy grave stones, out toward
the road.
It seemed miles she darted among those stones, as noiselessly as
possibly, but blindly, for it was dark, so dark, and the little spot
of light chased her maddeningly, darting ahead of her and flickering
into her eyes from the side unexpectedly, causing her to change her
course. She was aware that the men had separated, and she seemed to
be encompassed from all sides. Once she stumbled and fell across a
grave with the myrtle brushing her face, and the scent of crushed rose
geranium in the air. Strange that rose geranium should be identified
in her mind at such a time as this. It seemed like a sweet thought
reminding her of quiet home and love and peace. But she grasped the
mossy stone above her and pulled herself up just in time to evade one
of her pursuers; and lo, just at her left was the open field separated
only by a scraggy hedge. She parted the shrubs and slipped between,
thankful that her dress was dark, and sped away over the stubbly
ground, only the impetus of her going keeping her from falling at
almost every step. It was almost as if she were flying, as if she were
upheld by unseen hands and guided. And the hedge grew taller as she
approached the road, completely hiding her flight from those on the
other side. She was conscious of confused noises behind her, but her
own going was so rapid as to shut out any accurate sound. So at last
she gained the fence, crept tremblingly beneath the lichen covered
rails and tottered to her feet only to be confronted by a tall, dark
figure looming in the road as if he had been waiting there for her a
long time.
She caught her breath and turned to fly, but her hands were caught
in a big, firm grasp like a vise, and a flashlight blazed into her
frightened eyes for an instant. She closed the lids involuntarily and
shrank away, with a dizzy feeling that for the first time in her life
she must be going to faint.