THREE weeks later Judge Hollis found Caleb able to walk about the
library. The wound had healed, but the fever and the struggle for life
had told. His tall figure was more gaunt than ever, and there were deep
hollows in his cheeks. He had prevailed with Judge Hollis to get the
case against Zeb Bartlett dismissed; the boy was half an idiot, and
the story of Jacob Eaton’s pistol and the money that Jacob had given
him before he fled, were too choice bits to get into the newspapers.
Dr. Cheyney had put down the scandal which made Zeb’s shot a revenge
for Jean, and there was an effort now to make things easy for poor
Jinny Eaton, who had gone to relatives in Virginia, still bewailing
Jacob and the influx of anarchists, which seemed to her to be the real
root of the trouble, as these incendiaries must have stirred up the
investigation which had wrecked Jacob before he had time to recover his
investments. For years she spoke of these alien influences which must
be responsible even for the fluctuations on Wall Street. Meanwhile,
Jacob had escaped to South America, and was heard of later as a
financier in Buenos Ayres.
Judge Hollis announced his escape to Caleb.
“Got off with a cool million, I reckon,” said the judge grimly; “by the
Lord Harry, I wish I could have laid him by the heels.”
Caleb smiled faintly. He was leaning back in a big armchair by the
fire, and the window before him commanded a view of the mountain trail
where he had told Diana that he loved her. He had not yet recovered
from the miracle of finding himself under Colonel Royall’s roof. He
glanced now about the room and noticed the fine air of simplicity and
comfort; the deep-seated leather chairs, the old mahogany table, the
portraits of Colonel Royall’s mother and his grandfather in the uniform
of the Colonial Army on the walls. On the table was a great cluster of
roses from Diana’s hothouses. “I am glad Jacob went,” he said quietly.
“Of course!” said the judge with sarcasm, “it’s my belief that William
Cheyney warned him in time. It’s like the old fool!”
“Dear Dr. Cheyney!” said Caleb warmly.
“Dear Dr. Fiddlesticks!” snapped the judge. “I reckon I know William;
we played alleys together when we were boys and I licked him about as
often as he licked me.”
“The eternal bond of friendship,” smiled Caleb.
“He’s got off Jacob and you got off Zeb Bartlett,” grumbled the judge,
“and if you keep on, at your present gait, you’ll be governor of this
State in two years. Then I suppose you and the doctor will empty the
penitentiary.”
Caleb laughed. “I’ll get your help,” he said, “your heart isn’t as hard
as you pretend it is.”
“A good many people think I haven’t got one,” said the judge; “I reckon
they don’t let you see the papers yet?”
Caleb shook his head.
The judge grinned. “And yesterday was the first Tuesday in November.
Drat ’em, I call that hard! I’ll tell you,” he leaned forward, his
fingers on Caleb’s knee, “the Republicans carried the State by a
plurality of ten thousand; Peter Mahan is elected.”
Caleb’s amazement kept him silent.
“Your fault, sir!” said the judge triumphantly, “you ripped the
Democracy in two, showed the machine, convicted the governor. By the
Lord Harry, boy, I voted the Republican ticket!”
Caleb wrung the old man’s hand. “Now I know you love me, Judge!” he
said.
It was then that the door opened and Diana appeared on the threshold,
bearing a little tray, Sammy at her skirts and Shot trailing behind
her. “Judge,” she said, “the doctor’s orders--twenty minutes and no
politics!”
The judge got up and reached for his hat and cane. “I’m guilty, Diana!”
he cried.
“Then you’ll have to go,” she said, and smiled across at the patient.
It was only the third time Caleb had seen her, and he did not know how
often she had hung over him in agony when he lay unconscious. Diana,
meeting his eyes, turned crimson. She remembered, with a sudden panic,
that she had kissed him when she thought that he was dying!
Meanwhile, the judge went out grumbling. He was too full of the
election to be silenced, and went to drink a mint julep with Colonel
Royall. Diana came back into the library leading Sammy. The dog had
bounded to his master and lay now on the hearthrug. Caleb stood by his
chair, pale but transformed.
“You must not stand,” ordered Diana, as she set down the little tray
on the table and began to arrange his luncheon. “Kingdom is out and I
brought you some lunch myself,” she said simply.
“You are very good to me,” said Caleb.
She had turned away, and Sammy, who was devoted to her, had again
appropriated her hand. “You must not stand,” she repeated, “I will
never come here again if you cannot obey the doctor’s orders.”
Caleb smiled. “I’d rather obey yours, Miss Royall,” he said, his eyes
following the two figures, the woman and the child.
Half-way to the door Diana turned and let go the child’s detaining
fingers, coming toward him as if with some new resolve. She had never
looked more lovely in his eyes, though to him she had always been
an exquisite picture. The warm flood of November sunshine filling
the room, and the deeper glow on the hearth touched her and vivified
the buoyancy and freshness of her personality. Her chin was slightly
raised, and the delicate oval of her face glowed with feeling; it
seemed to him that her eyes were wonderful.
“I want to ask your forgiveness,” she said.
“My forgiveness?” he was taken aback, “you have done everything for me,
been everything to me; it is I who should ask forgiveness for having
been a burden here.”
She put aside his thanks with a gesture at once gracious and
significant, and the sweetness of her smile arrested the words on
his lips. “Nevertheless I ask your pardon,” she said, “for--for my
stupidity, my ignorance, my want of manners long ago, when you came
here to the house and I treated you with discourtesy. You were always
fine; I was hateful. You must have despised me!”
He smiled sadly. “I think you know that I did not,” he said.
“I deserved it. But since then I have learned to value your friendship,
to honor you for the fight you have made.”
He turned toward her; his tall gaunt figure seemed to have lost some of
its awkwardness, and the homely sweetness of his haggard face had never
been more apparent. “You know,” he paused, and then went on with deep
emotion, “I recognized then, I do still, the gap between our lives, but
it cannot change the one inevitable fact of my existence, my love for
you.”
The color rose from her chin to the arch of her lovely brow, but
her lips quivered. “You know that we have lost almost all we had,
and--about my mother?”
“I know,” he said simply, “Dr. Cheyney told me, and”--he looked
suddenly at Sammy and the dog--“your goodness to these, when you must
think--”
She looked up, and their eyes met. “Did you think my heart was not big
enough for all?” she asked.
Sudden joy leaped into his face, transfiguring it. “Diana,” he
exclaimed, “is it possible that through it all, in spite of it all, you
love me?”
She smiled. “I think I always loved you, Caleb,” she said.