"If he doesn't beat me this mile, and over that high jump he shall never
have me, I have told him so."
There are little things even in big events that count more than the big
things themselves. I sat utterly wretched. I heard her calling her
horse pet names, and saw her rubbing his neck with her whip. I saw the
old daring nervousness that showed in the very shoulders of her, the
keen, fine play of her eyes, and the white lines that lay like a rim of
moonlight around the red of her lips. The next five minutes were spent
by the starter telling of the record of Goff's horse.
They lined up ready for the word. It was I who gave it. Instantly from
Eloise, even in the thunder of the great leap of her horse I saw two
fingers fly to her lips in a kiss to me in her old daring, fun-loving
way. "Go!" I had cried.
"But I am coming back, Jack. Good-by."
The Colonel's horse, trained as he was, strode easily ahead of the
noisy, awkward bunch. I saw Eloise turn Satan loose, and in an instant
he had collared the imported one. They went over the first hurdle like
a pair, the field behind Nestor and Satan running neck and neck. With
my glasses I could see that Goff was smiling in the delight of the race
she was giving him. They were not going fast--it was more of a
gallop--for the Colonel set the pace to suit the slower field of
amateurs behind him. They mounted the last hurdle together, and came
into the back stretch for the last quarter of the mile. The six-foot
gate sat in the middle of the track. The judges rose and stood with
their timers in their hands. I heard the grand stand hum and buzz with
expectancy.
"Now, hold back!" shouted Goff to all as he turned his horse loose in
the stretch. "Give me the right of way!"
He came the last quarter with great speed, and then I saw the grand
stand rise to its feet, and a wild roar followed, for Eloise had passed
him as a full-set yacht a tug, headed straight for the bars. I heard
Goff shouting to her; he had lost his head in the fear for her safety.
They rose for the leap, Eloise two lengths ahead. I saw Satan rise
high, true to his stride, high up--straight up, his great form
silhouetted against the sky, Eloise smiling, triumphantly, beautifully,
splendidly lifting him over.
It was Goff's horse that did it. In the excitement his rider did not
hold him true; he wavered a moment, dodged faint-heartedly, ducked,
shied the perilous leap before him, and, bolting, struck the nigh post
of the movable gate, hurling it forward ten feet, full under the flanks
of Satan, who had cleared it. It caught him cruelly as he came down,
under the flanks, making him turn a summersault, hurling Eloise into the
fence. I heard the grand stand groan.
It was I who held her lifeless form in my arms....
I remember but little of the tent and the surgeons. I heard someone
say, "_She'll die, her back is broken!_"
A horse, riderless, had followed us to the tent's very door; he had
thrust his head in, whinnying. It broke my heart to feel his cold nose
against my cheek. It was then I led him away, so blinded by tears that
I did not see where we went.
*III*
*THE HICKORY'S SON*
*CHAPTER I*
*"LOVE IS NOT LOVE THAT ALTERS WHEN IT ALTERATION FINDS"*
Three weeks after Eloise was injured and while her life was yet
despaired of by the physician, my Aunt Lucretia came to me. I was
sitting on the rustic bench beneath the hickories. Night after night I
had sat there, watching the light from her window, and the coming and
going of the physician and nurses. To-day there had been a
consultation. My Aunt had sent for a famous surgeon of Philadelphia,
and all afternoon he had been in the sick room. When I saw my Aunt I
knew that his decision had been reached, and though I sat still,
apparently calm, my heart was smothered within me. She said very
distinctly, "It's her spine, Jack, he says she will never walk again."
I found myself an hour afterwards taking the old path to the dairy. I
saw the light from Tammas's cottage shining far out into the night. I
was wandering around numbed, stunned. As I passed the paddock I heard
Satan whinny appealingly to me. From the little window in his stall he
had thrust out his great head. This was the horse we had all feared,
and had cruelly misnamed. The great vicious horse that had almost
killed the groom, that had only been conquered by one woman, had his
head on my shoulder and was whinnying softly. I knew that he was
begging for news of Eloise, and for sympathy; and, dumb as he was, he
knew that I would understand.
"She insists that she must see you to-night," said my Aunt Lucretia,
when I reached the house.
She led me up the old, familiar stairs, and down the great hall to
Eloise's room. She stopped at the door.
"You will find her very brave," said my Aunt, "very brave, and so must
you be," she added, giving me a quick look.
Then she opened the door, and I stood looking at Eloise, with drawn,
tied lips, and a great choking in my throat, trying to return the smile
she was giving me from among her pillows. I stood still, I could not
move, my limbs seemed to have caught the dead numbness of my heart.
"I want you right here by me a moment, Jack," she said calmly. "You'll
let him sit on the side of the bed, Miss Rose, just a moment. I'll not
exert myself."
She was more beautiful than ever. Her brave body had lost none of its
suppleness and grace; her face shone, and over the pillow her hair was
massed in great red-gold waves against the white of the linen.
"See," she said, taking my hand, "see, Jack, I can move my head and both
my arms. Isn't that fine? And the doctor says I shall always be able
to do that, and, well--" she smiled, "he says there is no reason why I
should not outlive all of you to be an old woman. A crippled old
woman--"
I turned my head quickly. As she had spoken I saw again the brave,
beautiful creature, coming in head-long flight at the six-foot bar, and
the triumphant smile that lit her face, sky-lined forever in my memory,
as she lifted her horse almost straight up towards the sky.
She was speaking now to the nurse. "If you please, just a moment Miss
Rose--Aunt Lucretia, I would like to speak to Jack alone. I shall not
exert myself." I heard them go out. "There! I have been thinking,
Jack, all these weeks--one can think so very much lying in bed, and see
so very, very far. I have been thinking and seeing, Jack. It's so easy
to think and so hard to see. But--but--I have prayed, too, about it--to
help me see. Praying is seeing's eyesight, Jack. I want you to promise
me something. It is what I have seen in my prayer--it is the last thing
I shall ever ask of you--for you have done me so many favors, dear
Jack."