He woke to the light of morning amazed and full of a strange wonder
because he did not know what had amazed him. For a little while after
his eyes opened, he lay quite motionless; then he lifted his head
slightly and shook it with some caution. This had come to be custom.
The operation assured him of the worst; the room swam round him, and,
with a faint groan, he let his head fall back upon the pillow. But he
could not sleep again; pain stung its way through his heart as memory
began to come back to him, not of the preceding night--that was all
blank,--but realization that the girl of whom he had dreamed so long
was to be married. That his dreams had been quite hopeless was no balm
to his hurt.
A chime of bells sounded from a church steeple across the Square,
ringing out in assured righteousness, summoning the good people who
maintained them to come and sit beneath them or be taken to task; and
they fell so dismally upon Joe's ear that he bestirred himself and
rose, to the delight of his mongrel, who leaped upon him joyfully. An
hour later, or thereabout, the pair emerged from the narrow stairway
and stood for a moment, blinking in the fair sunshine, apparently
undecided which way to go. The church bells were silent; there was no
breeze; the air trembled a little with the deep pipings of the organ
across the Square, and, save for that, the town was very quiet. The
paths which crossed the Court-house yard were flecked with steady
shadow, the strong young foliage of the maples not moving, having the
air of observing the Sabbath with propriety. There were benches here
and there along the walks, and to one of these Joe crossed, and sat
down. The mongrel, at his master's feet, rolled on his back in morning
ecstasy, ceased abruptly to roll and began to scratch his ear with a
hind foot intently. A tiny hand stretched to pat his head, and the dog
licked it appreciatively. It belonged to a hard-washed young lady of
six (in starchy, white frills and new, pink ribbons), who had run ahead
of her mother, a belated church-goer; and the mongrel charmed her.
"Will you give me this dog?" she asked, without any tedious formalities.
Involuntarily, she departed before receiving a reply. The mother, a
red-faced matron whom Joe recognized as a sister of Mrs. Louden's,
consequently his step-aunt, swooped at the child with a rush and rustle
of silk, and bore her on violently to her duty. When they had gone a
little way the matron's voice was heard in sharp reproof; the child,
held by one wrist and hurried along on tiptoe, staring back over one
shoulder at Joe, her eyes wide, and her mouth the shape of the "O" she
was ejaculating.
The dog looked up with wistful inquiry at his master, who cocked an
eyebrow at him in return, wearing much the same expression. The mother
and child disappeared within the church doors and left the Square to
the two. Even the hotel showed no signs of life, for the wise men were
not allowed to foregather on Sundays. The organ had ceased to stir the
air and all was in quiet, yet a quiet which, for Louden, was not peace.
He looked at his watch and, without intending it, spoke the hour aloud:
"A quarter past eleven." The sound of his own voice gave him a little
shock; he rose without knowing why, and, as he did so, it seemed to him
that he heard close to his ear another voice, a woman's, troubled and
insistent, but clear and sweet, saying:
"REMEMBER! ACROSS MAIN STREET BRIDGE AT NOON!"
It was so distinct that he started and looked round. Then he laughed.
"I'll be seeing circus parades next!" His laughter fled, for, louder
than the ringing in his ears, unmistakably came the strains of a
far-away brass band which had no existence on land or sea or in the
waters under the earth.
"Here!" he said to the mongrel. "We need a walk, I think. Let's you
and me move on before the camels turn the corner!"
The music followed him to the street, where he turned westward toward
the river, and presently, as he walked on, fanning himself with his
straw hat, it faded and was gone. But the voice he had heard returned.
"REMEMBER! ACROSS MAIN STREET BRIDGE AT NOON!" it said again, close to
his ear.
This time he did not start. "All right," he answered, wiping his
forehead; "if you'll let me alone, I'll be there."
At a dingy saloon corner, near the river, a shabby little man greeted
him heartily and petted the mongrel. "I'm mighty glad you didn't go,
after all, Joe," he added, with a brightening face.
"Go where, Happy?"