_Passing Clouds_
In spite of the surgeon's hopeful words, the path to recovery lay
fearfully near the gate of death. Firmstone had been shot from above,
and the bullet, entering at the base of the neck just in front of the
throat, had torn its way beneath the collar-bone, passing through the
left arm below the shoulder.
During the period of trying suspense, when Firmstone's life wavered in
the balance, through the longer period of convalescence, he lacked not
devotion, love, nor skill to aid him. Zephyr was omnipresent, but never
obtrusive. Bennie, with voiceless words and aggressive manner, plainly
declared that a sizzling cookstove with a hot temper that never cooled
was more efficacious than a magazine of bandages and a college of
surgeons.
Elise cared for Firmstone, Madame for Elise. Zephyr's rod and rifle,
with Bennie's stove, supplied that without which even the wisest counsel
comes to an inglorious end. Over all Elise reigned an uncrowned queen,
with no constitution, written or unwritten, to hamper her royal will.
Even the company surgeon had to give a strict accounting. The soft, red
lips could not hide the hard, straight lines beneath rounded curves, nor
the liquid black of velvet eyes break the insistent glint of an active,
decisive mind.
Miss Hartwell was still pretty and willing, but yet helpless and
oppressed. It was therefore with a regretted sense of relief that the
arrival of Miss Firmstone removed the last appearance of duty that kept
her in useless toleration. Hartwell's capacious sleeve held a ready card
which awaited but an obvious opportunity for playing. No sooner was
Firmstone pronounced out of danger than the card, in the form of urgent
business, was played, and Hartwell and his sister left for the East.
Like her brother, Miss Firmstone evidently had a will of her own, and,
also like her brother, a well-balanced mind to control its
manifestations. There was a short, sharp battle of eyes when first the
self-throned queen was brought face to face with her possible rival. The
conflict was without serious results, for Miss Firmstone, in addition to
will and judgment, had also tact and years superior to Elise. These were
mere fortuitous adjuncts which had been denied Elise. So it happened
that, though a rebellious pupil, Elise learned many valuable lessons.
She was ready and willing to defy the world individually and
collectively; yet she stood in awe of herself.
One afternoon Firmstone was sitting in his room, looking out of his
window, and in spite of the grandeur of the mountain there was little of
glory but much of gloom in his thoughts. The mine was in ruins; so, as
far as he could see, were his labours, his ambitions, and his prospects.
He tried to keep his thoughts on the gloom of the clouds and shut his
eyes to their silver lining. The silver lining was in softly glowing
evidence, but he could not persuade himself that it was for him. Step by
step he was going over every incident of his intercourse with Elise.
Their first meeting, her subsequent warning that his life was in serious
danger, her calm, resolute putting aside of all thought of danger to
herself, her daring ride up the tram to keep him from sure death when
she knew that the tram-house was to be blown up, that the catastrophe
might occur at any moment, her unremitting care of him, wounded near to
death: all these came to him, filled him with a longing love that left
no nerve nor fibre of heart or soul untouched with thrills that, for all
their pain, were even yet not to be stilled by his own volition.
Firmstone grew more thoughtful. He realised that Elise was only a girl
in years, yet her natural life, untrammelled by conventional proprieties
which distract and dissipate the limited energy in a thousand divergent
channels, had forced her whole soul into the maturity of many waxing and
waning seasons. Every manifestation of her restless, active mind had
stood out clear and sharp in the purity of unconscious self. This was
the disturbing element in Firmstone's anxious mind. Responsive to every
mood, fiercely unsparing of herself, yet every attempted word of
grateful appreciation from him had been anticipated and all but fiercely
repelled. With all his acumen, Firmstone yet failed to comprehend two
very salient features of a woman's heart, that, however free and
spontaneous she may be, there is one emotion instinctively and jealously
guarded, that she will reject, with indignation, gratitude offered as a
substitute for love.
Firmstone's meditations were interrupted by a knock on the door. Zephyr
came in, holding out a bulky envelope. It was from the eastern office of
the Rainbow Company. Firmstone's face stiffened as he broke the seals.
Zephyr noted the look and, after an introductory whistle, said:
"'Tisn't up to you to fret now, Goggles. Foolishness at two cents an
ounce or fraction thereof is more expensive than passenger rates at four
dollars a pound."
Firmstone looked up absently.
"What's that you're saying?"
Zephyr waved his hand languidly.
"I was right. Have been all along. I knew you had more sense than you
could carry in your head. It's all over you, and you got some of it shot
away. I'm trying to make it plain to you that foolishness on paper ain't
near so fatal as inside a skull. Consequently, if them Easterners had
had any serious designs on you, they'd sent the real stuff back in a
Pullman instead of the smell of it by mail."
Firmstone made no reply, but went on with his letter. There was
amusement and indignation on his face as, having finished the letter, he
handed it to Zephyr.
The letter was from Hartwell and was official. Briefly, it expressed
regret over Firmstone's serious accident, satisfaction at his recovery,
and congratulations that a serious complication had been met and
obviated with, all things considered, so slight a loss to the company.
The letter concluded as follows:
We have carefully considered the statement of the difficulties with
which you have been confronted, as reported by our manager, and
fully comprehend them. We have also given equal consideration to
his plans for the rehabilitation of the mine and mill, and heartily
assent to them as well as to his request that you be retained as
our superintendent and that, in addition to your salary, you be
granted a considerable share in the stock of our company. We feel
that we are warranted in pursuing this course with you, recognising
that it is a rare thing, in one having the ability which you have
shown, to take counsel with and even frankly to adopt the
suggestions of another.
By order of the President and Board of Directors of the Rainbow
Milling Company, by
ARTHUR HARTWELL,
Gen. Man. and Acting Secretary.
Zephyr's face worked in undulations that in narrowing concentrics
reached the puckered apex of his lips.
"Bees," he finally remarked, "are ding-twisted, ornery insects. They
have, however, one redeeming quality not common to mosquitoes and black
flies. If they sting with one end they make honey with the other. They
ain't neither to be cussed nor commended. They're just built on them
lines."
Firmstone looked thoughtful.
"I'm inclined to think you're right. If you're looking for honey you've
got to take chances on being stung."
"Which I take to mean that you have decided to hive your bees in this
particular locality."
Firmstone nodded.
Zephyr looked expectantly at Firmstone, and then continued:
"I also wish to remark that there are certain inconveniences connected
with being an uncommonly level-headed man. There's no telling when
you've got to whack up with your friends."
"All right." Firmstone half guessed at what was coming.
"Madame," Zephyr remarked, "having been deprived by the hand of death of
her legal protectors, namely, Pierre and Morrison, wishes to take
counsel with you."
Zephyr, waiting no further exchange of words, left the room and shortly
returned with Madame. She paused at the door, darted a frightened look
at Firmstone, then one of pathetic appeal to the imperturbable Zephyr.
Again her eyes timidly sought Firmstone, who, rising, advanced with
outstretched hand. Madame's hands were filled with bundled papers. In
nervously trying to move them, in order to accept Firmstone's proffered
hand, the bundles fell scattered to the floor. With an embarrassed
exclamation, she hastily stooped to recover them and in her effort
collided with Zephyr, who had been actuated by the same motive.
Zephyr rubbed his head with one hand, gathering up the papers with the
other.
"If Madame wore her heart on her neck instead of under her ribs, I would
have had two hands free instead of one. Which same being put in literal
speech means that there's nothing against nature in having a hard head
keeping step with a tender heart."
Madame was at last seated with her papers in her lap. She was ill at
ease in the fierce consciousness of self, but her flushed face and
frightened eyes only showed the growing mastery of unselfish love over
the threatening lions that waited in her path. One by one, she tendered
the papers to Firmstone, who read them with absorbed attention. As the
last paper was laid with its fellows Madame's eyes met fearlessly the
calm look of the superintendent. Slowly, laboriously at first, but
gathering assurance with oblivion of self, she told the story of Elise's
birth. With the intuition of an overpowering love, she felt that she was
telling the story to one absolutely trustworthy, able and willing to
counsel her with powers far beyond her own. Firmstone heard far more
than the stumbling words recited. His eyes dimmed, but his voice was
steady.
"I think I understand. You want Elise restored to her friends?"
Madame's eyes slowly filled with tears that welled over the trembling
lids and rolled down her cheeks. She did not try to speak. She only
nodded in silent acquiescence. She sat silent for a few moments, then
the trembling lips grew firm, but her voice could not be controlled.
"We ought to have done it long ago, Pierre and I. But I loved her.
Pierre loved her. She was all we had." It was worse than death. Death
only removes the presence, it leaves the consoling sense of possession
through all eternity.
Zephyr started to speak, but Firmstone, turning to Madame, interrupted.
"You have no need to fear. Where you cannot go Elise will not."
Madame looked up suddenly. The rainbow of hope glowed softly for an
instant in the tear-dimmed eyes. Then the light died out. "She will be
ashamed of her hol' daddy and her hol' mammy before her gran' friends."
Pierre's words came to her, laden with her own unworthiness.
The door opened and Elise and Miss Firmstone came in. Miss Firmstone
took in the situation at a glance.
"You are reliable people to trust with a convalescent, aren't you? And
after the doctor's warning that all excitement was to be avoided!"
"Doctors don't know everything," Zephyr exploded, in violence to his
custom. Then, more in accord with it, "It does potatoes no end of good
to be hilled."
Elise looked questioning surprise, as her glance fell on Madame, then on
Zephyr. Her eyes rested lightly for a moment on Firmstone. There was a
fleeting suggestion that quickened his pulses and deepened the flush on
his face. Again her eyes were on Madame. Pity, love, glowed softly at
sight of the bowed head. She advanced a step, and her hand and arm
rested on Madame's shoulders. Madame shivered slightly, then grew rigid.
Nothing should interfere with her duty to Elise.
Elise straightened, but her arm was not removed.
"What is it? What have you been saying?" She was looking fixedly at
Firmstone. There was no tenderness in her eyes, only a demand that was
not to be ignored.
Firmstone began a brief capitulation of his interview with Madame. When
he told her that she was not Madame's daughter, that she was to be
restored to her unknown friends, that Madame wished it, the change that
came over the girl amazed him. Her eyes were flashing. Her clinched
hands thrust backward, as if to balance the forward, defiant poise of
her body.
"That is not so! You have frightened her into saying what she does not
mean. You don't want me to leave you; do you? Tell me you don't!" She
turned to Madame, fiercely.
Firmstone gave Madame no time to answer.
"Wait," he commanded. "You don't understand." His words were impetuous
with the intensity of his emotion. "I don't want you to leave Madame.
You are not going to. Don't you understand?" He laid his hand on hers,
but she shook it off.
He withdrew his hand.
"Very well, but listen." Himself he put aside; but he was not to be
diverted from his purpose. He felt that in the life of the girl before
him a vital crisis was impending, that, unforeseeing of consequences,
she, in the sheer delight of overcoming opposing wills, might be
impelled to a step that would bring to naught all her glorious
possibilities. The thought hardened his every mental fibre. He was
looking into eyes that gleamed with open, resolute defiance.
"You and Madame are not to be separated. You are going East with my
sister and Madame is going with you: You are going to your father's
friends."
"Is that all?" The voice was mocking.
"No. I want your word that you will do as I say."
Without seeming to turn her defiant eyes, Elise laid her hand firmly on
Madame.
"Come."
Madame rose in response to the impulse of hand and word. She cast a
frightened, appealing look at Firmstone, then with Elise moved toward
the door.
On the threshold Firmstone barred the way.
"I have not had my answer."
"No?"
"I can wait."
Elise and Firmstone stood close. There was a measure of will opposed to
will in the unflinching eyes. Elise felt a strange thrill, strange to
her. With Pierre and Madame opposition only roused her anger, their
commands only gave piquancy to revolt. But now, as she looked at the
strong, resolute man before her, there was a new sensation fraught with
subtler thrills of delight, the yielding to one who commanded and took
from her even the desire to resist. She felt warm waves of blood surging
to her face. The defiant poise of her head was unchanged, her eyes
softened, but the drooping lids hid them from those that she
acknowledged master.
"May I go if I give my answer?"
"If your answer is right, yes."
The eyes were veiled, but the mobile lips were wavering.
"Madame and I have decided to go East."
The look on Firmstone's face changed from resolution to pleading.
"I have no right to ask more, unless you choose to give it. Don't you
know what I want to ask? Will you give me the right to ask?"
The drooping head bent still lower, a softer flush suffused the quiet
face.
Firmstone took the girl's unresisting hands in his own.
"Can't you give me my answer, dear? You have come to be all the world to
me. You are going away for the sake of your friends. Will you come back
some time for mine?"
Elise slowly raised her eyes to his. He read his answer. There was a
slight answering pressure, then her hands were gently withdrawn.
Firmstone stood aside. Elise and Madame moved over the threshold, the
door swinging to behind them, not quite shut; then it opened, just
enough to show a flushed face, with teasing, roguish eyes.
"I forgot to ask. Is that all, Mr. Minion?"
Then the door closed with a decided click.
THE END
Other Book to Read
By Arthur Stanwood Pier
Author of "The Pedagogues"
THE TRIUMPH
The Triumph has fire and pathos and romance and exhilarating humor. It
is a capital story that will keep a reader's interest from the first
appearance of its hero, the young doctor Neal Robeson, to his final
triumph--his triumph over himself and over the lawless, turbulent
oil-drillers, his success in his profession and in his love affair. It
displays a delightful appreciation of the essential points of typical
American characters, a happy outlook on everyday life, a vigorous
story-telling ability working in material that is thrilling in interest,
in a setting that is picturesque and unusual. The action takes place in
a little western Pennsylvania village at the time of the oil fever, and
a better situation can scarcely be found. Mr. Pier's account of the
fight between the outraged villagers and the oil-drillers around a
roaring, blazing gas well is a masterpiece of story telling.
_Illustrations by W. D. Stevens_
By James Weber Linn
Author of "The Second Generation"
THE CHAMELEON
The author uses as his theme that trait in human nature which leads men
and women to seek always the lime light, to endeavor always to be
protagonists even at the expense of the truth. His book is a study of
that most interesting and pertinent type in modern life, the
sentimentalist, the man whose emotions are interesting to him merely as
a matter of experience, and shows the development of such a character
when he comes into contact with normal people. The action of the novel
passes in a college town and the hero comes to his grief through his
attempt to increase his appearance of importance by betraying a secret.
His love for his wife is, however, his saving sincerity and through it
the story is brought to a happy ending.
By M. Imlay Taylor
Author of "The House of the Wizard"
THE REBELLION OF THE PRINCESS
A book that is a story, and never loses the quick, on-rushing,
inevitable quality of a story from the first page to the last. Stirring,
exciting, romantic, satisfying all the essential requirements of a
novel. The scene is laid in Moscow at the time of the election of Peter
the Great, when the intrigues of rival parties overturned the existing
government, and the meeting of the National Guard made the city the
scene of a hideous riot. It resembles in some points Miss Taylor's
successful first story, "On the Red Staircase," especially in the date,
the principal scenes and the fact that the hero is a French nobleman.
By Edward W. Townsend
Author of "Chimmie Fadden," "Days Like These," etc.
LEES AND LEAVEN
No novel of New York City has ever portrayed so faithfully or so vividly
our new world Gotham--the seething, rushing New York of to-day, to which
all the world looks with such curious interest. Mr. Townsend, gives us
not a picture, but the bustling, nerve-racking pageant itself. The titan
struggles in the world of finance, the huge hoaxes in sensational
news-paperdom, the gay life of the theatre, opera, and restaurant, and
then the calmer and comforting domestic scenes of wholesome living,
pass, as actualities, before our very eyes. In this turbulent maelstrom
of ambition, he finds room for love and romance also.
There is a bountiful array of characters, admirably drawn, and
especially delightful are the two emotional and excitable lovers, young
Bannister and Gertrude Carr. The book is unlike Mr. Townsend's "Chimmie
Fadden" in everything but its intimate knowledge of New York life.
By S. R. Crockett
Author of "The Banner of Blue," "The Firebrand"
FLOWER O' THE CORN
Mr. Crockett has made an interesting novel of romance and intrigue. He
has chosen a little town in the south of France, high up in the
mountains, as the scene for his drama. The plot deals with a group of
Calvinists who have been driven from Belgium into southern France, where
they are besieged in their mountain fastness by the French troops. A
number of historical characters figure in the book, among them Madame de
Maintenon.
"Flower o' the Corn" is probably one of Mr. Crockett's most delightful
women characters. The book is notable for its fine descriptions.
By Edith Wyatt
Author of "Every One His Own Way"
TRUE LOVE
A Comedy of the Affections
Here commonplace, everyday, ordinary people tread the boards. The
characters whom Miss Wyatt presents are not geniuses, or heroes, or
heroines of romance, but commonplace persons with commonplace tricks and
commonplace manners and emotions. They do romantic things without a
sense of romance in them, but weave their commonplace doings into a
story of great human interest that the reader will find far from
commonplace. The vein of humorous satire, keen, subtle and refined,
permeating the story and the characterization, sets this work of Miss
Wyatt's in a class by itself.
By Pauline B. Mackie
Author of "The Washingtonians"
THE VOICE IN THE DESERT
This is a story of subtle attractions and repulsions between men and
women; of deep temperamental conflicts, accentuated and made dramatic by
the tense atmosphere of the Arizona desert. The action of the story
passes in a little Spanish mission town, where the hero, Lispenard, is
settled as an Episcopal clergyman, with his wife Adele and their two
children. The influence of the spirit of the desert is a leading factor
in the story. Upon Lispenard the desert exerts a strange fascination,
while upon his wife it has an opposite effect and antagonizes her. As
their natures develop under the spell of their environment, they drift
apart and the situation is complicated by the influence upon Lispenard
of a second woman who seems to typify the spirit of the desert itself.
The spiritual situation is delicately suggested and all is done with a
rare and true feeling for human nature.
By Shan F. Bullock
Author of "The Barrys," "Irish Pastorals"
THE SQUIREEN
Mr. Bullock takes us into the North of Ireland among North-of-Ireland
people. His story is dominated by one remarkable character, whose
progress towards the subjugation of his own temperament we cannot help
but watch with interest. He is swept from one thing to another, first by
his dare-devil, roistering spirit, then by his mood of deep repentance,
through love and marriage, through quarrels and separation from his
wife, to a reconciliation at the point of death, to a return to health,
and through the domination of the devil in him, finally to death. It is
a strong, convincing novel suggesting, somewhat, "The House with the
Green Shutters." What that book did for the Scotland of Ian Maclaren and
Barrie, "The Squireen" will do for Ireland.
By Seumas McManus
Author of "Through the Turf Smoke"
"A LAD OF THE O'FRIEL'S"
This is a story of Donegal ways and customs; full of the spirit of Irish
life. The main character is a dreaming and poetic boy who takes joy in
all the stories and superstitions of his people, and his experience and
life are thus made to reflect all the essential qualities of the life of
his country. Many characters in the book will make warm places for
themselves in the heart of the reader.
By Joel Chandler Harris
GABRIEL TOLLIVER
A story filled with the true flavor of Southern life. The first
important novel by the creator of "Uncle Remus." Those who have loved
Mr. Harris's children's stories, will find in this story of boy and girl
love in Georgia during the troublous Reconstruction period, the same
genial and kindly spirit, the same quaintly humorous outlook on life
that characterizes his earlier work. A host of charming people, with
whom it is a privilege to become acquainted, crowd the pages, and their
characters, thoughts and doings are sketched in a manner quite
suggestive of Dickens. The fawn-like Nan is one of the most winsome of
characters in fiction, and the dwarf negress, Tasma Tid, is a weird
sprite that only Mr. Harris could have created.
"A novel which ranks Mr. Harris as the Dickens of the
South."--_Brooklyn Eagle._
"It is a pretty love-story, artistically wrought, a natural,
healthy love-story, full of Joel Chandler Harris's inimitable
naivete."--_Atlanta Constitution.