I
When Dreeme awoke late in the morning he heard the heavy roar of rain
on the roof, and, hurrying through his morning ablutions, he proceeded
downstairs to his breakfast, finding the covered dishes on the table
in the little study. Mrs. Slater had been there and had not waited,
and he was thankful for this. He did not care to see her standing
beside him, her eyes fluttering with excitement, and a repressed
rancor in her pursed mouth. She resented his interference on Deborah’s
behalf, and a strong distaste for her had grown in the young doctor’s
mind. A regular New England aunt. A narrow-minded, overly-righteous,
cold-hearted descendant of icy-natured forebears. The devil take her!
Dreeme raced through his breakfast, not minding that the eggs were cold
and coagulated on the heavy china plate, that the coffee was insipid
and luke-warm. He would probably never get good service again from Mrs.
Slater. Well, he would not need her services long. He would not be here
in this small two-storied, two-room building that whined in the strong
winds and drew in all the unpleasant heat of the summer. He would be
in some large city, Boston or New York, and Deborah would be with him.
There were lots of places where a young doctor could find a refuge.
Finishing his meal he rose from the table and strode through the hall
to the door and thrust it open. A wind-blown gust of rain dashed in
his face, and he drew back from it. The weather had changed all right.
Last night the largest moon he had ever seen had poured its silver
light over Marlborough, but some time in the night it had disappeared,
devoured by angry storm-clouds, and now the community lay prone beneath
a furious down-pour. The farmers would not complain at this. Here was
fecundation enough. Reaching for his rubber-slicker Dreeme adjusted it
about his shoulders and stepped out into the storm. The heavy drops
snapped against his face and drummed on his hat. The trees across the
road were mere misty shadows. It was dark, too. Dreeme noticed that the
lamps were lighted in the Slater house.
A New England rain-storm was a desolate phenomenon. It turned the
entire vista gray and sodden green. Great puddles widened in the road,
and the unceasing whir of falling water made a monotonous sound in the
ears. Dreeme supposed that he should have put on boots, but he did not
feel inclined to turn back into the house. He desired too much to go
on and to finish up the business that was in his mind. He was going to
face Humphrey Lathrop, and stay with the huge old doctor until he had
made everything clear to him. He would tell Lathrop everything that
had happened. Lathrop would help him, for, after all, Lathrop was a
wise man. Even if he did look like a swelling frog at times. Dreeme
sloshed through the puddles and mud on his way to the old doctor’s
cottage, his mind a chaotic mixture of problems and unasked questions.
He had all the facts now, but he could not put them together until
he possessed the key. With the key he could unlock the last secret
door, and when he did this everything would fall into order, and his
curiosity about Marlborough would be satisfied. He crossed the square
and saw nobody but the tall spare figure of Bidwell standing in the
shelter of the porch of the post office and general store. Bidwell did
not return his greeting, but stood immovable watching the young doctor
who proceeded on his way, head down against the driving rain and wind.
Dreeme smiled sarcastically to himself. He was certainly a popular man
in Marlborough. The rain dripped in an unceasing stream from the front
brim of his hat and got into his eyes. It flowed into the back of his
neck. It was in his shoes now. Every time he stepped he made a sucking
sound. But it was cool and not altogether unpleasant. It quenched the
restless fire of his body, and soothed his torn nerves. He felt as
though he could walk for miles with this heavy down-pour beating upon
him and that he would be all the better for it. The front of Humphrey
Lathrop’s cottage, small and gray in the rain, loomed before him, and
he opened the rickety gate and walked up the path. He would find out
everything now, and he would not leave Humphrey until he did.