XXIV.

Midsummer at Port aux Pins. The day was very hot; there was no feeling

of dampness, such as belongs sometimes to the lower-lake towns in the

dog-days, up here the air remained dry and clear and pure; but the

splendid sunshine had almost the temperature of flame; it seemed as if

the miles of forest must take fire, as from a burning-glass.

Eve stood at the open window of Paul's little parlor. A figure passed in

the road outside, but she did not notice it. Reappearing, it opened the

gate and came in. "Many happy returns--of cooler weather! We ought to

pity the Eyetalians; what must their sufferings be on such a day as

this!"

Eve gazed at the speaker unseeingly. Then recognition arrived;--"Oh, Mr.

Hollis."

Hollis came into the house; he joined her in the parlor. "My best

respects. Can't help thinking of the miserable Eyetalians." Eve made no

reply. "Just heard a piece of news," Hollis went on. "Paul has sold his

Clay County iron. He would have made five times as much by holding on.

But he has been so jammed lately by unexpected demands made upon him

that he had no other course; all his brother's South American

speculations have come to grief, and the creditors have come down on

_him_ like a thousand of brick!"

"Will he have to pay much?" asked Eve, her lassitude gone.

"More than he's got," answered Hollis, putting his hands still more

deeply into his trousers pockets, his long, lean, fish-like figure

projecting itself forward into space from the sixth rib. "I don't get

this from Paul, you may depend; _he_ don't blab. But the law sharks who

came up here to get hold of whatever they could (for you see Paul has

always been a partner in his brother's enterprises, so that gives 'em a

chance), these scamps talked to me some. So I know. But even the sale of

his Clay County iron won't clear Paul--he will have to guarantee other

debts; it will take him years to clear it all off, unless he has

something better than his present salary to do it with."

"You ought to have told me. I have money."

"I guess he wouldn't take it. He's had pretty hard lines all round; he

wanted terribly bad to go straight to Ferdie, as soon as he heard he was

shot. But Mrs. Morrison--she had come here, you know; and he had all

Ferdie's expenses to think of too, so that kept him grinding along. But

he wanted awfully to go; he thought the world and all of Ferdie."

"I know he did," said Eve. And now her face was like a tragic

mask--deadly white, with a frown, the eyes under her straight brows

looking at him fixedly.

"Oh, eheu!" thought Hollis distressfully, disgustedly. "You screw

yourself up to tell her all these things about him, because you think it

will please her; and _this_ is the way she takes 'em!"

He looked at her again; she gave no sign. Feeling painfully

insignificant and helpless, he turned and left the room.

A few minutes later Paul came in. "You have sold your Clay County iron!"

said Eve.

"I have always intended to sell it."

"Not at a sacrifice."

"One does as one can--a business transaction."

"How much money have you sent to your brother all these years?"

"I don't know that it is--I don't know what interest you can have in

it," Paul answered.

"You mean that it is not my business. Oh, don't be so hard! Say three

words just for once."

"Why, I'll say as many as you like, Eve. Ferdie was one of the most

brilliant fellows in the world; if he had lived, all his investments

would have turned out finely, he was sure of a fortune some time."

"And, in the meanwhile, you supported him; you have always done it."

"You are mistaken. I advanced him money now and then when he happened to

be short, but it was always for the time being only; he would have paid

me back if he had lived."

The door opened, and the judge came in. "I'm glad you're here," said

Paul; "now we can decide, we three, upon what is best to be done. The

doctor says that while this heat is very bad for Cicely, travel would be

still worse; she cannot go anywhere by train, and hardly by

steamer--though that is better; there would be no use, then, in trying

to take her south."

"It's ten times hotter here to-day than I ever saw it at Romney,"

interposed the judge. "It's a tophet--this town of yours!"

"I was thinking also of Miss Abercrombie's illness," Paul went on.

"Though her fever is light, her room is still a sick-room, and that

would depress Cicely, I feel sure. But, meanwhile, the poor girl is

hourly growing weaker, and so this is what I have thought of: we will go

into camp in the pines near Jupiter Light. Don't you remember how much

good camp-life did her before?"

Six days later they were living in the pine woods at Jupiter. This time

lodges had been built; the nurse accompanied Cicely; they were a party

of eight, without counting the cook and the Indians.

At first Cicely remained in much the same state, she recognized no one

but Jack.

Jack continued to be his mother's most constant adorer; he climbed often

into her lap, and, putting his arms round her neck, "loved" her with his

cheek against hers, and with all his little heart; he came trotting up

many times a day, to stroke her face with his dimpled hand. Cicely

looked at him, but did not answer. After ten days in the beneficent

forest, however, her strength began to revive, and their immediate fears

were calmed. One evening she asked for her grandfather, and when he came

hastily in and bent over her couch, she smiled and kissed him. He sat

down beside her, holding her hand; after a while she fell into a sleep.

The old man went softly out, he went to the camp-fire, and made it

blaze, throwing on fresh pine-cones recklessly.

"Sixty-five in the shade," remarked Hollis.

"This Northern air is always abominable. Will you make me a taste of

something spicy? I feel the need of it. Miss Bruce,--Eve--Cicely knows

me!"

Eve looked at his brightened face, at the blazing fire, the rough table

with the tumblers, the flask, and the lemons. Hollis had gone to the

kitchen to get hot water.

"She knows me," repeated the judge, triumphantly. "She sent for me

herself."

Paul now appeared, and the good news was again told. Paul had just come

from Port aux Pins. After establishing them at Jupiter, he had been

obliged to return to town immediately, and he had remained there closely

occupied for more than a week. He sat down, refusing Hollis's proffered

glass. The nurse came out, and walked to and fro before Cicely's lodge,

breathing the aromatic air; this meant that Cicely still slept. Eve had

seated herself a little apart from the fire; her figure was in the

shadow. Her mind was filled with but one thought: "Cicely better? Then

must I tell her?" By-and-by the conversation of the others came to her.

"Hanging is too good for them," said the judge.

"But wasn't it supposed to be a chance shot?" remarked Hollis. "Not

intentional, exactly?"

"That makes no difference. You may call it absolute chance, if you like;

but the negro who dares to lift a pistol against a white man should not

be left alive five minutes afterwards," declared the old planter,

implacably.

"You'd ought to have lived in the days of religious wars," drawled

Hollis. "I don't know anything else carnivorous enough to suit you."

"You must be a Quaker, sir! Tennant feels as I do, he'd shoot at sight."

"Oh no, he wouldn't," said Hollis. "He ain't a Southerner."

"Tennant can speak for himself," said the judge, confidently.

"I'd shoot the man who shot my brother," answered Paul. "I'd go down

there to-morrow--I should have gone long ago--if I thought there was the

least chance of finding him." A dark flush rose in his face. "I'm

afraid--even if it was an unintentional shot--that I should want to

_kill_ that man just the same; I should be a regular savage!"

"Would you never forgive him?" asked Eve's voice from the shadow.

"Blood for blood!" responded Paul, hotly. "No, not unless I killed him;

then I might."

Eve rose.

Paul got up. "Oh, are you going?" But she did not hear him; she had gone

to her lodge. He sat down again. She did not reappear that night.

The next morning she went off for a solitary walk. By chance her steps

took the direction of a small promontory that jutted sharply into the

lake, its perpendicular face rising to a height of forty feet from the

deep water below; she had been here several times before, and knew the

place well; it was about a mile from the camp. As she sat there, Paul's

figure appeared through the trees. He came straight to her. "I have been

looking for you, I tried to find you last night." He paused a moment.

"Eve, don't you see what I've come for? Right in the midst of all this

grief and trouble I've found out something. It's just this, Eve: I love

you."

She tried to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her where

she was. "Oh, but I do, you needn't doubt it," he went on, with an

amused smile--amused at himself; "in some way or other the thing has

come about, I may say, in spite of me. I never thought it would. But

here 'tis--with a vengeance! I think of you constantly, I can't help

thinking of you; I recognize, at last, that the thing is unchangeable,

that it's for life; have you I must." The words were despotic, but the

tone was entreating; and the eyes, looking down upon her, were

caressing--imploring. "Yes, I'm as helpless as any one," Paul went on,

smiling as he said it; "I can't sleep, even. Come, take me; I'm not such

a bad fellow, after all--I really think I'm not. And as regards my

feeling for you, you need not be troubled; it's strong enough!"

She quailed under his ardor.

"I haven't spoken before because there has been so much to do," Paul

continued; "there has been Cicely, and then I've been harassed about

business; I've been in a box, and trying to get out. Besides, I wasn't

perfectly sure that my time had come." He laughed. "I'm sure now." He

took her in his arms. "Don't let us make any delays, Eve; we're not so

young, either of us. Not that you need be afraid that you're to be the

less happy on that account; I'll see to that!"

She broke from him.

But again he came to her, he took her hands, and, kneeling, laid his

forehead upon them. "I will be as humble as you like; only--be good to

me. I long for it, I must have it."

A sob rose in her throat. He sprang up. "Don't do that! Why, I want to

make you absolutely happy, if I can. We shall have troubles enough, and

perhaps we shall have sorrows, but at least we shall be together; you

must never leave me, and I will do all I can to be less rough. But on

your side there's one thing, Eve: you _must_ love me." These last words

were murmured in her ear.

She drew herself away from him. The expression of her face was almost

like death.

"You look as though you were afraid of me! I thought you loved me, Eve?"

"I do."

"Pretend you are a man, then, long enough to say 'yes' without any more

circumlocution. We will be married at Port aux Pins. Then we can take

care of Cicely together."

"I shall never marry."

"Yes, you will."

"I do not wish to leave Cicely."

"She wouldn't care about that. She isn't even fond of you."

"Oh, what shall I say to you?" cried Eve, her hands dropping by her

sides. "Listen: it will be absolutely impossible for you to change my

determination. But I am so horribly unhappy that I do believe I cannot

stand anything more--any more contests with you. Leave me to myself; say

nothing to me. But don't drive me away; at least let me stay near you."

"In my arms, Eve."

"Let me stay near you; see you; hear you talk; but that is all."

"And how long do you suppose that could last? It's a regular woman's

idea: nonsense."

"Paul, be merciful!"

"Merciful? Oh, yes!" He took her again in his arms.

"I swear to you that I cannot marry you," she said, trembling as his

cheek touched hers. "Since I've known you I haven't wanted to die, I've

wanted to live--live a long life. But now I _do_ want to die; there is a

barrier between us, I cannot lift it."

He released her. "There could be but one.--I believe that you are

truthful; is the barrier another man?"