Chapter 1 Pg 1

Like A Sudden Cloudburst The Dormitory Had Gone Into A Frenzy Of Sound.

Chapter 1 Pg 2

Doors Slammed,  Feet Trampled,  Hoarse Voices Reverberated,  Heavy Bodies

Flung Themselves Along The Corridor,  The Very Electrics Trembled With

The Cataclysm. One Moment All Was Quiet With A Contented

After-Dinner-Peace-Before-Study Hours; The Next It Was As If All The

Forces Of The Earth Had Broken Forth.

 

Paul Courtland Stepped To His Door And Threw It Back.

 

"Come On,  Court,  See The Fun!" Called The Football Half-Back,  Who Was

Slopping Along With Two Dripping Fire-Buckets Of Water.

 

"What's Doing?"

 

"Swearing-Match! Going To Make Little Stevie Cuss! Better Get In On It.

Some Fight! Tennelly Sent 'Whisk' For A Whole Basket Of Superannuated

Cackle-Berries"--He Motioned Back To A Freshman Bearing A Basket Of

Ancient Eggs--"We're Going To Blindfold Steve And Put Oysters Down His

Back,  And Then Finish Up With The Fire-Hose. Oh,  The Seven Plagues Of

Egypt Aren't In It With What We're Going To Do; And When We Get Done If

Little Stevie Don't Let Out A String Of Good,  Honest Cuss-Words Like A

Man Then I'll Eat My Hat. Little Stevie's Got Good Stuff In Him If It

Can Only Be Brought Out. We're A-Going To Bring It Out. Then We're Going

To Celebrate By Taking Him Over To The Theater And Making Him See 'The

Scarlet Woman.' It'll Be A Little Old Miracle,  All Right,  If He Has Any

Of His Whining Puritanical Ideas Left In Him After We Get Through With

Him. Come On! Get On The Job!"

 

Drifting Along With The Surging Tide Of Students,  Courtland Sauntered

Down The Corridor To The Door At The Extreme End Where Roomed The

Victim.

 

He Rather Liked Stephen Marshall. There Was Good Stuff In Him; All The

Fellows Recognized That. Only He Was Woefully Unsophisticated,

Abnormally Innocent,  Frankly Religious,  And A Little Too Openly White In

His Life. It Seemed A Rebuke To The Other Fellows,  Unconscious Though It

Might Be. He Felt With The Rest That The Fellow Needed A Lesson.

Especially Since The Bald Way In Which He Had Dared To Stand Up For The

Old-Fashioned View Of Miracles In Biblical-Lit. Class That Morning. Of

Course An Ignorance Like That Wouldn't Go Down,  And It Was Best He

Should Learn It At Once And Get To Be A Good Fellow Without Loss Of

Time. A Little Gentle Rubbing Off Of The "Mamma's-Good-Little-Boy"

Veneering Would Do Him Good. He Wasn't Sure But With Such A Course

Marshall Might Even Be Eligible For The Frat. That Year. He Sauntered

Along With His Hands In His Pockets; A Handsome,  Capable,  Powerful

Figure; Not Taking Any Part In The Preparations,  But Mildly Interested

In The Plans. His Presence Lent Enthusiasm To The Gathering. He Was High

In Authority. A Star Athlete,  An A Student,  President Of His Fraternity,

Having Made The Phi Beta Kappa In His Junior Year,  And Now In His Senior

Year Being Chairman Of The Student Exec. There Would Be No Trouble With

The Authorities Of The College If Court Was Along To Give Countenance.

 

Courtland Stood Opposite The End Door When It Was Unceremoniously Thrust

Open And The Hilarious Mob Rushed In. From His Position With His Back

Against The Wall He Could See Stephen Lift His Fine Head From His Book

Chapter 1 Pg 3

And Rise To Greet Them. There Was Surprise And A Smile Of Welcome On His

Face. Courtland Thought It Almost A Pity To Reward Such Open-Heartedness

As They Were About To Do; But Such Things Were Necessary In The Making

Of Men. He Watched Developments With Interest.

 

A Couple Of Belated Participants In The Fray Arrived Breathlessly,

Shedding Their Mackinaws As They Ran,  And Casting Them Down At

Courtland's Feet.

 

"Look After Those,  Will You,  Court? We've Got To Get In On This,"

Shouted One As He Thrust A Noisy Bit Of Flannel Head-Gear At Courtland.

 

Courtland Gave The Garments A Kick Behind Him And Stood Watching.

 

There Was A Moment's Tense Silence While They Told The Victim What They

Had Come For,  And While The Light Of Welcome In Stephen Marshall's Eyes

Melted And Changed Into Lightning. A Dart Of It Went With A Searching

Gleam Out Into The Hall,  And Seemed To Recognize Courtland As He Stood

Idly Smiling,  Watching The Proceedings. Then The Lightning Was Withheld

In The Gray Eyes,  And Marshall Seemed To Conclude That,  After All,  The

Affair Must Be A Huge Kind Of Joke,  Seeing Courtland Was Out There.

Courtland Had Been Friendly. He Must Not Let His Temper Rise. The Kindly

Light Came Into The Eyes Again,  And For An Instant Marshall Almost

Disarmed The Boldest Of Them With His Brilliant Smile. He Would Be Game

As Far As He Understood. That Was Plain. It Was Equally Plain That He

Did Not Understand Yet What Was Expected Of Him.

 

Pat Mccluny,  Thick Of Neck,  Brutal Of Jaw,  Low-Browed,  Red Of Face,

Blunt Of Speech,  The Finest,  Most Unmerciful Tackler On The Football

Team,  Stepped Up To Stephen And Said A Few Words In A Low Tone.

Courtland Could Not Hear What They Were Save That They Ended With An

Oath,  The Choicest Of Pat Cluny's Choice Collection.

 

Instantly Stephen Marshall Drew Himself Back,  And Up To His Great

Height,  Lightning And Thunder-Clouds In His Gray Eyes,  His Powerful Arms

Folded,  His Fine Head Crowned With Its Wealth Of Beautiful Gold Hair

Thrown A Trifle Back And Up,  His Lips Shut In A Thin,  Firm Line,  His

Whole Attitude That Of The Fighter; But He Did Not Speak. He Only Looked

From One To Another Of The Wild Young Mob,  Searching For A Friend; And,

Finding None,  He Stood Firm,  Defying Them All. There Was Something

Splendid In His Bearing That Sent A Thrill Of Admiration Down

Courtland's Spine As He Watched,  His Habitual Half-Cynical Smile Of

Amusement Still Lying Unconsciously About His Lips,  While A New Respect

For The Country Student Was Being Born In His Heart.

 

Pat,  With A Half-Lowering Of His Bullet Head,  And A Twisting Of His Ugly

Jaw,  Came A Step Nearer And Spoke Again,  A Low Word With A Rumble Like

The Menace Of A Bull Or A Storm About To Break.

 

With A Sudden Unexpected Movement Stephen's Arm Shot Forth And Struck

The Fellow In The Jaw,  Reeling Him Half Across The Room Into The Crowd.

 

With A Snarl Like A Stung Animal Pat Recovered Himself And Rushed At

Stephen,  Hurling Himself With A Stream Of Oaths,  And Calling Curses Down

Chapter 1 Pg 4

Upon Himself If He Did Not Make Stephen Utter Worse Before He Was Done

With Him. Pat Was The "Man" Who Was In College For Football. It Took The

United Efforts Of His Classmates,  His Frat.,  And The Faculty To Keep His

Studies Within Decent Hailing Distance Of Eligibility For Playing. He

Came From A Race Of Bullies Whose Culture Was All In Their Fists.

 

Pat Went Straight For The Throat Of His Victim. His Fighting Blood Was

Up And He Was Mad Clear Down To The Bone. Nobody Could Give Him A Blow

Like That In The Presence Of Others And Not Suffer For It. What Had

Started As A Joke Had Now Become Real With Pat; And The Frenzy Of His

Own Madness Quickly Spread To Those Daring Spirits Who Were About Him

And Who Disliked Stephen For His Strength Of Character.

 

They Clinched,  And Stephen,  Fresh From His Father's Remote Western Farm,

Matched His Mighty,  Untaught Strength Against The Trained Bully Of A

City Street.

 

For A Moment There Was Dead Silence While The Crowd In Breathless

Astonishment Watched And Held In Check Their Own Eagerness. Then The Mob

Spirit Broke Forth As Some One Called Out:

 

"Pray For A Miracle,  Stevie! Pray For A Miracle! You'll Need It,  Old

Boy!"

 

The Mad Spirit Which Had Incited Them To The Reckless Fray Broke Forth

Anew And A Medley Of Shouts Arose.

 

"Jump In,  Boys! Now's The Time!"

 

"Give Him A Cowardly Egg Or Two--The Kind That Hits And Runs!"

 

"Teach Him That We Will Be Obeyed!"

 

The Latter Came As A Sort Of Chant,  And Was Reiterated At Intervals

Through The Pandemonium Of Sound.

 

The Fight Raged On For Minutes More,  And Still Stephen Stood With His

Back Against The Wall,  Fighting,  Gasping,  Struggling,  But Bravely Facing

Them All; A Disheveled Object With Rotten Eggs Streaming From His Face

And Hair,  His Clothes Plastered With Offensive Yolks. Pat Had Him By The

Throat,  But Still He Stood And Fought As Best He Could.

 

Some One Seized The Bucket Of Water And Deluged Both. Some One Else

Shouted,  "Get The Hose!" And More Fellows Tore Off Their Coats And Threw

Them Down At Courtland's Feet; Some One Tore Pat Away,  And The Great

Fire-Hose Was Turned Upon The Victim.

 

Gasping At Last,  And All But Unconscious,  He Was Set Upon His Feet,  And

Harried Back To Life Again. Over-Powered By Numbers,  He Could Do

Nothing,  And The Petty Torments That Were Applied Amid A Round Of

Ringing Laughter Seemed Unlimited; But Still He Stood,  A Man Among Them,

His Lips Closed,  A Firm Set About His Jaw That Showed Their Labor Was In

Vain So Far As Making Him Obey Their Command Was Concerned. Not One Word

Chapter 1 Pg 5

Had He Uttered Since They Entered His Room.

 

"You Can Lead A Horse To Water,  But You Can't Make Him Drink," Shouted

One Onlooker. "Cut It Out,  Fellows! It's No Use! You Can't Set Him

Cussing. He Never Learned How. He Could Easier Lead In Prayer. You Have

To Teach Him How. Better Cut It Out!"

 

More Tortures Were Applied,  But Still The Victim Was Silent. The Hose

Had Washed Him Clean Again,  And His Face Shone White From The Drenching.

Some One Suggested It Was Getting Late And The Show Would Begin. Some

One Else Suggested They Must Dress Up Little Stevie For His First Play.

There Was A Mad Rush For Garments. Any Garments,  No Matter Whose. A Pair

Of Sporty Trousers,  Socks Of Brilliant Colors--Not Mates,  An Old

Football Shoe On One Foot,  A Dancing-Pump On The Other,  A White Vest And

A Swallow-Tail Put On Backward,  Collar And Tie Also Backward,  A Large

Pair Of White-Cotton Gloves Commonly Used By Workmen For Rough

Work--Johnson,  Who Earned His Way In College By Tending Furnaces,

Furnished These. Stephen Bore It All,  Grim,  Unflinching,  Until They Set

Him Up Before His Mirror And Let Him See Himself,  Completing The

Costume By A High Silk Hat Crammed Down Upon His Wet Curls. He Looked At

The Guy He Was And Suddenly He Turned Upon Them And Smiled,  His Broad,

Merry Smile! _After All That_ He Could See The Joke And Smile! He Never

Opened His Lips Nor Spoke--Just Smiled.

 

"He's A Pretty Good Guy! He's Game,  All Right!" Murmured Some One In

Courtland's Ear. And Then,  Half Shamedly,  They Caught Him High Upon

Their Shoulders And Bore Him Down The Stairs And Out The Door.

 

The Theater Was Some Distance Off. They Bore Down Upon A Trolley-Car And

Took A Wild Possession. They Sang Their Songs And Yelled Themselves

Hoarse. People Turned And Watched And Smiled,  Setting This Down As One

More Prank Of Those University Fellows.

 

They Swarmed Into The Theater,  With Stephen In Their Midst,  And Took

Noisy Occupancy. Opera-Glasses Were Turned Their Way,  And The Girls

Nudged One Another And Talked About The Man In The Middle With The Queer

Garments.

 

The Persecutions Had By No Means Ceased Because They Had Landed Their

Victim In A Public Place. They Made Him Ridiculous At Every Breath. They

Took Off His Hat,  Arranged His Collar,  And Smoothed His Hair As If He

Were A Baby. They Wiped His Nose With Many A Flourishing Handkerchief,

And Pointed Out Objects Of Interest About The Theater In Open Derision

Of His Supposed Ignorance,  To The Growing Amusement Of Those Of The

Audience Who Were Their Neighbors. And When The Curtain Rose On The Most

Notoriously Flagrant Play The City Boasted,  They Added To Its Flagrance

By Their Whispered Explanations And Remarks.

 

Stephen,  In His Ridiculous Garb,  Sat In Their Midst,  A Prisoner,  And

Watched The Play He Would Not Have Chosen To See; Watched It With A Face

Of Growing Indignation; A Face So Speaking In Its Righteous Wrath That

Those About Who Saw Him Turned To Look Again,  And Somehow Felt Condemned

For Being There.

 

Chapter 1 Pg 6

Sometimes A Wave Of Anger Would Sweep Over The Young Man,  And He Would

Turn To Look About Him With An Impulse To Suddenly Break Away And

Attempt To Defy Them All. But His Every Movement Was Anticipated,  And He

Had The Whole Football Team About Him! There Was No Chance To Move. He

Must Stay It Through,  Much As He Disliked It. He Must Stand It In Spite

Of The Tumult Of Rage In His Heart. He Was Not Smiling Now. His Face Had

That Set,  Grim Look Of The Faithful Soldier Taken Prisoner And Tortured

To Give Information About His Army's Plans. Stephen's Eyes Shone True,

And His Lips Were Set Firmly Together.

 

"Just One Nice Little Cuss-Word And We'll Take You Home," Whispered A

Tormentor. "A Single Little Word Will Do,  Just To Show You Are A Man."

 

Stephen's Face Was Gray With Determination. His Yellow Hair Shone Like A

Halo About His Head. They Had Taken Off His Hat And He Sat With His Arms

Folded Fiercely Across The Back Of "Andy" Roberts's Nifty Evening Coat.

 

"Just One Little Real Cuss To Show You Are A _Man_," Sneered The

Freshman.

 

But Suddenly A Smothered Cry Arose. A Breath Of Fear Stirred Through The

House. The Smell Of Smoke Swept In From A Sudden Open Door. The Actors

Paused,  Grew White,  And Swerved In Their Places; Then One By One Fled

Out Of The Scene. The Audience Arose And Turned To Panic,  Even As A

Flame Swept Up And Licked The Very Curtain While It Fell.

 

All Was Confusion!

 

The Football Team,  Trained To Meet Emergencies,  Forgot Their Cruel Play

And Scattered,  Over Seats And Railing,  Everywhere,  To Fire-Escapes And

Doorways,  Taking Command Of Wild,  Stampeding People,  Showing Their

Training And Their Courage.

 

Stephen,  Thus Suddenly Set Free,  Glanced About Him,  And Saw A Few Feet

Away An Open Door,  Felt The Fresh Breeze Of Evening Upon His Hot

Forehead,  And Knew The Upper Back Fire-Escape Was Close At Hand. By Some

Strange Whim Of A Panic-Maddened Crowd But Few Had Discovered This Exit,

High Above The Seats In The Balcony; For All Had Rushed Below And Were

Struggling In A Wild,  Frantic Mass,  Trampling One Another Underfoot In A

Mad Struggle To Reach The Doorways. The Flames Were Sweeping Over The

Platform Now,  Licking Out Into The Very Pit Of The Theater,  And People

Were Terrified. Stephen Saw In An Instant That The Upper Door,  Being

Farthest Away From The Center Of The Fire,  Was The Place Of Greatest

Safety. With One Frantic Leap He Gained The Aisle,  Strode Up To The

Doorway,  Glanced Out Into The Night To Take In The Situation; Cool,

Calm,  Quiet,  With The Still Stars Overhead,  Down Below The Open Iron

Stairway Of The Fire-Escape,  And A Darkened Street With People Like Tiny

Puppets Moving On Their Way. Then Turning Back,  He Tore Off The

Grotesque Coat And Vest,  The Confining Collar,  And Threw Them From Him.

He Plunged Down The Steps Of The Aisle To The Railing Of The Gallery,

And,  Leaning There In His Shirt-Sleeves And The Queer Striped Trousers,

He Put His Hands Like A Megaphone About His Lips And Shouted:

 

"Look Up! Look Up! There Is A Way To Escape Up Here! Look Up!"

Chapter 1 Pg 7

 

Some Poor Struggling Ones Heard Him And Looked Up. A Little Girl Was

Held Up By Her Father To The Strong Arms Reached Out From The Low Front

Of The Balcony. Stephen Caught Her And Swung Her Up Beside Him,  Pointing

Her Up To The Door,  And Shouting To Her To Go Quickly Down The

Fire-Escape,  Even While He Reached Out His Other Hand To Catch A Woman,

Whom Willing Hands Below Were Lifting Up. Men Climbed Upon The Seats And

Vaulted Up When They Heard The Cry And Saw The Way Of Safety; And Some

Stayed And Worked Bravely Beside Stephen,  Wrenching Up The Seats And

Piling Them For A Ladder To Help The Women Up. More Just Clambered Up

And Fled To The Fire-Escape,  Out Into The Night And Safety.

 

But Stephen Had No Thought Of Flight. He Stayed Where He Was,  With

Aching Back,  Cracking Muscles,  Sweat-Grimed Brow,  And Worked,  His Breath

Coming In Quick,  Sharp Gasps As He Frantically Helped Man,  Woman,  Child,

One After Another,  Like Sheep Huddling Over A Flood.

 

Courtland Was There.

 

He Had Lingered A Moment Behind The Rest In The Corner Of The Dormitory

Corridor,  Glancing Into The Disfigured Room; Water,  Egg-Shells,  Ruin,

Disorder Everywhere! A Little Object On The Floor,  A Picture In A Cheap

Oval Metal Frame,  Caught His Eye. Something Told Him It Was The Picture

Of Stephen Marshall's Mother That He Had Seen Upon The Student's Desk A

Few Days Before,  When He Had Sauntered In To Look The New Man Over.

Something Unexplained Made Him Step In Across The Water And Debris And

Pick It Up. It Was The Picture,  Still Unscarred,  But With A Great Streak

Of Rotten Egg Across The Plain,  Placid Features. He Recalled The Tone In

Which The Son Had Pointed Out The Picture And Said,  "That's My Mother!"

And Again He Followed An Impulse And Wiped Off The Smear,  Setting The

Picture High On The Shelf,  Where It Looked Down Upon The Depredation

Like Some Hallowed Saint Above A Carnage.

 

Then Courtland Sauntered On To His Room,  Completed His Toilet,  And

Followed To The Theater. He Had Not Wanted To Get Mixed Up Too Much In

The Affair. He Thought The Fellows Were Going A Little Too Far With A

Good Thing,  Perhaps. He Wanted To See It Through,  But Still He Would Not

Quite Mix With It. He Found A Seat Where He Could Watch What Was Going

On Without Being Actually A Part Of It. If Anything Should Come To The

Ears Of The Faculty He Wanted To Be On The Side Of Conservatism Always.

That Pat Mccluny Was Not Just His Sort,  Though He Was Good Fun. But He

Always Put Things On A Lower Level Than College Fellows Should Go.

Besides,  If Things Went Too Far A Word From Himself Would Check Them.

 

Courtland Was Rather Bored With The Play,  And Was Almost On The Point Of

Going Back To Study When The Cry Arose And Panic Followed.

 

Courtland Was No Coward. He Tore Off His Handsome Overcoat And Rushed To

Meet The Emergency. On The Opposite Side Of The Gallery,  High Up By

Another Fire-Escape He Rendered Efficient Assistance To Many.

 

The Fire Was Gaining In The Pit; And Still There Were People Down There

Chapter 1 Pg 8

Swarms Of Them,  Struggling,  Crying,  Lifting Piteous Hands For

Assistance. Still Stephen Marshall Reached From The Gallery And Pulled

Up,  One After Another,  Poor Creatures,  And Still The Helpless Thronged

And Cried For Aid.

 

Dizzy,  Blinded,  His Eyes Filled With Smoke,  His Muscles Trembling With

The Terrible Strain,  He Stood At His Post. The Minutes Seemed

Interminable Hours,  And Still He Worked,  With Heart Pumping Painfully,

And Mind That Seemed To Have No Thought Save To Reach Down For Another

And Another,  And Point Up To Safety.

 

Then,  Into The Midst Of The Confusion There Arose An Instant Of Great

And Awful Silence. One Of Those Silences That Come Even Into Great Sound

And Claim Attention From The Most Absorbed.

 

Paul Courtland,  High In His Chosen Station,  Working Eagerly,

Successfully,  Calmly,  Looked Down To See The Cause Of This Sudden

Arresting Of The Universe; And There,  Below,  Was The Pit Full Of Flame,

With People Struggling And Disappearing Into Fiery Depths Below. Just

Above The Pit Stood Stephen,  Lifting Aloft A Little Child With

Frightened Eyes And Long Streaming Curls. He Swune Assembling Of The Newly Elected Duma,  The

Czar's Government Announced New Fundamental Laws Which Limited The Powers

Of The Duma And Practically Reduced It To A Farce. In The First Place,  The

Imperial Council Was To Be Reconstituted And Set Over The Duma As An Upper

Chamber,  Or Senate,  Having Equal Rights With The Duma. Half Of The Members

Of The Imperial Council Were To Be Appointed By The Czar And The Other Half

Elected From Universities,  Zemstvos,  Bourses,  And By The Clergy And The

Nobility. In Other Words,  Over The Duma Was To Be Set A Body Which Could

Always Be So Manipulated As To Insure The Defeat Of Any Measure Displeasing

To The Old Régime. And The Czar Reserved To Himself The Power To Summon Or

Dissolve The Duma At Will,  As Well As The Power To Declare War And To Make

Peace And To Enter Into Treaties With Other Nations. What A Farce Was This

Considered As A Fulfilment Of The Solemn Assurances Given In October,  1905!

 

But The Reactionary Madness Went Even Farther; Believing The Revolutionary

Movement To Have Been Crushed To Such A Degree That It Might Act With

Impunity,  Autocracy Took Other Measures. Three Days Before The Assembling

Of The Duma The Czar Replaced His Old Ministry By One Still More

Reactionary. At The Head Of The Cabinet,  As Prime Minister,  He Appointed

The Notorious Reactionary Bureaucrat,  Goremykin. With Full Regard For The

Bloody Traditions Of The Office,  The Infamous Stolypin,  Former Governor Of

Saratov,  Was Made Minister Of The Interior. At The Head Of The Department

Of Agriculture,  Which Was Charged With Responsibility For Dealing With

Agrarian Problems,  Was Placed Stishinsky,  A Large Landowner,  Bitterly

Hostile To,  And Hated By,  The Peasants. The Composition Of The New Ministry

Chapter 1 Pg 9

Was A Defiance Of The Popular Will And Sentiment,  And Was So Interpreted.

 

The Duma Opened On April 27th,  At The Taurida Palace. St. Petersburg Was A

Vast Armed Camp That Day. Tens Of Thousands Of Soldiers,  Fully Armed,  Were

Massed At Different Points In Readiness To Suppress Any Demonstrations By

The Populace. It Was Said That Provocateurs Moved Among The People,  Trying

To Stir An Uprising Which Would Afford A Pretext For Action By The

Soldiers. The Members Of The Duma Were First Received By The Czar At The

Winter Palace And Addressed By Him In A Pompous Speech Which Carefully

Avoided All The Vital Questions In Which The Russian People Were So Keenly

Interested. It Was A Speech Which Might As Well Have Been Made By The First

Czar Nicholas. But There Was No Need Of Words To Tell What Was In The Mind

Of Nicholas Ii; That Had Been Made Quite Evident By The New Laws And The

New Ministry. Before The Duma Lay The Heavy Task Of Continuing The

Revolution,  Despite The Fact That The Revolutionary Army Had Been Scattered

As Chaff Is Scattered Before The Winds.

 

The First Formal Act Of The Duma,  After The Opening Ceremonies Were

Finished,  Was To Demand Amnesty For All The Political Prisoners. The

Members Of The Duma Had Come To The Taurida Palace That Day Through Streets

Crowded With People Who Chanted In Monotonous Chorus The Word "Amnesty."

The Oldest Man In The Assembly,  I.I. Petrunkevitch,  Was Cheered Again And

Again As He Voiced The Popular Demand On Behalf Of "Those Who Have

Sacrificed Their Freedom To Free Our Dear Fatherland." There Were Some

Seventy-Five Thousand Political Prisoners In Russia At That Time,  The

Flower Of Russian Manhood And Womanhood,  Treated As Common Criminals And,

In Many Instances,  Subject To Terrible Torture. Well Might Petrunkevitch

Proclaim: "All The Prisons Of Our Country Are Full. Thousands Of Hands Are

Being Stretched Out To Us In Hope And Supplication,  And I Think That The

Duty Of Our Conscience Compels Us To Use All The Influence Our Position

Gives Us To See That The Freedom That Russia Has Won Costs No More

Sacrifices ... I Think,  Gentlemen ... We Cannot Refrain Just Now From

Expressing Our Deepest Feelings,  The Cry Of Our Heart--That Free Russia

Demands The Liberation Of All Prisoners." At The End Of The Eloquchrist. He Let Me Live In Him. I Am The

Christ You Sneered At And Disbelieved!"

 

He Looked And His Heart Was Stricken With Shame.

 

"I Did Not Understand. It Was Against Reason. But Had Not Seen You

Then."

 

"And Now?"

 

"Now? What Do You Want Of Me?"

 

"You Shall Be Shown."

Chapter 1 Pg 10

 

The Smoke Ebbed Low And Swung Away His Consciousness,  And Even The Place

Grew Dim About Him,  But The Presence Was There. Always Through Suspended

Space As He Was Borne Along,  And After,  When The Smoke Gave Way,  And

Air,  Blessed Air,  Was Wafted In,  There Was The Presence. If It Had Not

Been For That He Could Not Have Borne The Awfulness Of Nothing That

Surrounded Him. Always There Was The Presence!

 

There Was A Bandage Over His Eyes For Days; People Speaking In Whispers;

And When The Bandage Was Taken Away There Were The White Hospital Walls,

So Like The Walls Of Smoke At First In The Dim Light,  High Above Him.

When He Had Grown To Understand It Was But Hospital Walls,  He Looked

Around For The Presence In Alarm,  Crying Out,  "Where Is He?"

 

Bill Ward And Tennelly And Pat Were There,  Huddled In A Group By The

Door,  Hoping He Might Recognize Them.

 

"He's Calling For Steve!" Whispered Pat,  And Turned With A Gulp While

The Tears Rolled Down His Cheeks. "He Must Have Seen Him Go!"

 

The Nurse Laid Him Down On The Pillow Again,  Replacing The Bandage. When

He Closed His Eyes The Presence Came Back,  Blessed,  Sweet--And He Was At

Peace.

 

The Days Passed; Strength Crept Back Into His Body,  Consciousness To His

Brain. The Bandage Was Taken Off Once More,  And He Saw The Nurse And

Other Faces. He Did Not Look Again For The Presence. He Had Come To

Understand He Could Not See It With His Eyes; But Always It Was There,

Waiting,  Something Sweet And Wonderful. Waiting To Show Him What To Do

When He Was Well.

 

The Memorial Services Had Been Held For Stephen Marshall Many Days,  The

University Had Been Draped In Black,  With Its Flag At Half-Mast,  The

Proper Time,  And Its Mourning Folded Away,  Ere Paul Courtland Was Able

To Return To His Room And His Classes.

 

They Welcomed Him Back With Touching Eagerness. They Tried To Hush Their

Voices And Temper Their Noisiness To Suit An Invalid. They Told Him All

Their News,  What Games Had Been Won,  Who Had Made Phi Beta Kappa,  And

What Had Happened At The Frat. Meetings. But They Spoke Not At All Of

Stephen!

 

Down The Hall Stephen's Door Stood Always Open,  And Courtland,  Walking

That Way One Day,  Found Fresh Flowers Upon His Desk And Wreathed Around

His Mother's Picture. A Quaint Little Photograph Of Stephen Taken

Several Years Back Hung On One Wall. It Had Been Sent At The Class's

Request By Stephen's Mother To Honor Her Son's Chosen College.

 

The Room Was Set In Order,  Stephen's Books Were On The Shelves,  His Few

College Treasures Tacked Up About The Walls; And Conspicuous Between The

Windows Hung Framed The Resolutions Concerning Stephen The Hero-Martyr

Of The Class,  Telling Briefly How He Had Died,  And Giving Him This

Tribute,  "He Was A Man!"

 

Chapter 1 Pg 11

Below The Resolutions,  On The Little Table Covered With An Old-Fashioned

Crocheted Cotton Table-Cover,  Lay Stephen's Bible,  Worn,  Marked,  Soft

With Use. His Mother Had Wished It To Remain. Only His Clothes Had Been

Sent Back To Her Who Had Sent Him Forth To Prepare For His Life-Work,

And Received Word In Her Distant Home That His Life-Work Had Been

Already Swiftly Accomplished.

 

Courtland Entered The Room And Looked Around.

 

There Were No Traces Of The Fray That Had Marred The Place When Last He

Saw It. Everything Was Clean And Fine And Orderly. The Simple Saint-Like

Face Of The Plain Farmer's-Wife-Mother Looked Down Upon It All With

Peace And Resignation. This Life Was Not All. There Was Another. Her

Eyes Said That. Paul Courtland Stood A Long Time Gazing Into Them.

 

Then He Closed The Door And Knelt By The Little Table,  Laying His

Forehead Reverently Upon The Bible.

 

Since He Had Returned To College And Things Of Life Had Become More

Real,  Reason Had Returned To Her Throne And Was Crying Out Against His

"Fancies." What Was That Experience In The Hospital But The Phantasy Of

A Sick Brain? What Was The Presence But A Fevered Imagination? He Had

Been Growing Ashamed Of Dwelling Upon The Thought,  Ashamed Of Liking To

Feel That The Presence Was Near When He Was Falling Asleep At Night.

Most Of All He Had Felt A Shame And A Land Of Perplexity In The

Biblical-Literature Class Where He Faced "Facts" As The Professor Called

Them,  Spoken In Capitals. Science Was Another Force Which

Mocked His Fancies. Philosophy Cooled His Mind And Wakened Him

From His Dreams. In This Atmosphere He Was Beginning To Think That He

Had Been Delirious,  And Was Gradually Returning To His Normal State,

Albeit With A Restless Dissatisfaction He Had Never Known Before.

 

But Now In This Calm,  Rose-Decked Room,  With The Quiet Eyes Of The

Simple Mother Looking Down Upon Him,  The Resolutions In Their

Chaplet-Of-Palm Framing,  The Age-Old Bible Thumbed And Beloved,  He Knew

He Had Been Wrong. He Knew He Would Never Be The Same. That Presence,

Whoever,  Whatever It Was,  Had Entered Into His Life. He Could Never

Forget It; Never Be Convinced That It Was Not; Never Be Entirely

Satisfied Without It! He Believed It Was The Christ! Stephen Marshall's

Christ!

 

By And By He Lifted Up His Head And Opened The Little Worn Bible,

Reverently,  Curiously,  Just To Touch It And Think How The Other Boy Had

Done. The Soft,  Much-Turned Leaves Fell Open Of Themselves To A Heavily

Marked Verse. There Were Many Marked Verses All Through The Book.

 

Courtland's Eyes Followed The Words:

 

     He That Believeth On The Son Of God Hath The Witness In

     Himself.

 

Could It Be That This Strange New Sense Of The Presence Was "The

Witness" Here Mentioned? He Knew It Like His Sense Of Rhythm,  Or The

Look Of His Mother's Face,  Or The Joy Of A Summer Morning. It Was Not

Chapter 1 Pg 12

Anything He Could Analyze. One Might Argue That There Was No Such Thing,

Science Might Prove There Was Not,  But He _Knew_ It,  Had _Seen_ It,

_Felt_ It! He Had The Witness In Himself. Was That What It Meant?

 

With Troubled Brow He Turned Over The Leaves Again:

 

     If Any Man Will Do His Will,  He Shall Know Of The Doctrine,

     Whether It Be Of God.

 

Ah! There Was An Offer,  Why Not Close With It?

 

He Dropped His Head On The Open Book With The Old Words Of

Self-Surrender:

 

"Lord,  What Wilt Thou Have Me To Do?"

 

A Moment Later Pat Mccluny Opened The Door,  Cautiously,  Quietly; Then,

With A Nod To Tennelly Back Of Him,  He Entered With Confidence.

 

Courtland Rose. His Face Was White,  But There Was A Light Of Something

In His Eyes They Did Not Understand.

 

They Went Over To Him As If He Had Been A Child Who Had Been Lost And

Was Found On Some Perilous Height And Needing To Be Coaxed Gently Away

From It.

 

"Oh,  So You're Here,  Court," Said Tennelly,  Slapping His Shoulder With

Gentle Roughness,  "Great Little Old Room,  Isn't It? The Fellows' Idea

To Keep Flowers Here. Kind Of A Continual Memorial."

 

"Great Fellow,  That Steve!" Said Pat,  Hoarsely. He Could Not Yet Speak

Lightly Of The Hero-Martyr Whom He Had Helped To Send To His Fiery

Grave.

 

But Courtland Stood Calmly,  Almost As If He Had Not Heard Them. "Pat,

Nelly," He Said,  Turning From One To The Other Gravely,  "I Want To Tell

You Fellows That I Have Met Steve's Christ And After This I Stand For

Him!"

 

They Looked At Him Curiously,  Pityingly. They Spoke With Soothing Words

And Humored Him. They Led Him Away To His Room And Left Him To Rest.

Then They Walked With Solemn Faces And Dejected Air Into Bill Ward's

Room And Threw Themselves Down Upon His Couch.

 

"Where's Court?" Bill Looked Up From The Theme He Was Writing.

 

"We Found Him In Steve's Room," Said Tennelly,  Gloomily,  And Shook His

Head.

 

"It's A Deuced Shame!" Burst Forth Pat. (He Had Cut Out Swearing For A

Time.) "He's Batty In The Bean!"

 

Tennelly Answered The Shocked Question In The Eyes Of Bill With A Nod.

"Yes,  The Brightest Fellow In The Class,  But He Sure Is Batty In The

Chapter 1 Pg 13

Bean! You Ought To Have Heard Him Talk. Say! I Don't Believe It Was All

The Fire. Court's Been Studying Too Hard. He's Been An Awful Shark For A

Fellow That Went In For Athletics And Everything Else. He's Studied Too

Hard And It's Gone To His Head!"

 

Tennelly Sat Gloomily Staring Across The Room. It Was The Old Cry Of The

Man Who Cannot Understand.

 

"He Needs A Little Change," Said Bill,  Putting His Feet Up On The Table

Comfortably And Lighting A Cigarette. "Pity The Frat. Dance Is Over. He

Needs To Get Him A Girl. Be A Great Stunt If He'd Fall For Some Jolly

Girl. Say! I'll Tell You What. I'll Get Gila After Him."

 

"Who's Gila?" Asked Tennelly,  Gloomily. "He Won't Notice Her Any More

Than A Fly On The Wall. You Know How He Is About Girls."

 

"Gila's My Cousin. Gila Dare. She's A Good Sport,  And She's A Winner

Every Time. We'll Put Gila On The Job. I've Got A Date With Her

To-Morrow Night And I'll Put Her Wise. She'll Just Enjoy That Kind Of

Thing. He's Met Her,  Too,  Over At The Navy Game. Leave It To Gila."

 

"What Style Is She?" Asked Tennelly,  Still Skeptical.

 

"Oh,  Tiny And Stylish And Striking,  With Big Eyes. A Perfect Little

Peach Of An Actress."

 

"Court's Too Keen For Acting. He'll See Through Her In Half A Second.

She Can't Put One Over On Court."

 

"She Won't Try," Said The Ardent Cousin. "She'll Just Be As Innocent.

They'll Be Chums In Half An Hour,  Or It'll Be The First Failure For

Gila."

 

"Well,  If Any Girl Can Put One Over On Court,  I'll Eat My Hat; But It's

Worth Trying,  For If Court Keeps On Like This We'll All Be Buying

Prayer-Books And Singing Psalms Before Another Semester."

 

"You'll Eat Your Hat,  All Right," Said Bill Ward,  Rising In His Wrath.

"Nelly,  My Infant,  I Tell You Gila Never Fails. If She Gets On The Job

Court'll Be Dead In Love With Her Before The Midwinter Exams.!"

 

"I'll Believe It When I See It," Said Tennelly,  Rising.

 

"All Right," Said Bill. "Remember You're In For A Banquet During

Vacation. Fricaseed Hat The _Piece De Resistance_!"

 

 

Chapter 2 Pg 14

 

It Was A Sumptuous Library In Which Gila Dare Awaited The Coming Of Paul

Courtland.

 

Great,  Deep,  Red-Leather Chairs Stood Everywhere Invitingly,  The Floor

Was Spread With A Magnificent Specimen Of Royal Bokhara,  The Rich

Recesses Of The Noble Walls Were Lined With Books In Rare Editions,  A

Heavily Carved Table Of Dull Black Wood From Some Foreign Land Sprawled

In The Center Of The Room And Held A Great Bronze Lamp Of Curious

Pattern,  Bearing A Ruby Light. Ornate Bronzes Lurked On Pedestals In

Shadows,  Unexpectedly,  And Caught The Eye Alarmingly,  Like Grim Ones Set

To Watch. A Throbbing Fire Like The Heart Of A Lit Ruby Burned In A

Massive Fireplace Of Grotesque Tiles,  As Though It Were The Opening Into

Great Depths Of Unquenchable Fire To Which This Room Might Be But An

Approach.

 

Gila Herself,  Slight,  Dark-Eyed,  With Pearl-White Skin And Dusky Hair,

Was Dressed In Crimson Velvet,  Soft And Clinging Like Chiffon,  Catching

The Light And Shimmering It With Strange Effect. The Dark Hair Was

Curiously Arranged,  And Stabbed Just Above Her Ears With Two Dagger-Like

Combs Flashing With Jewels. A Single Jewel Burned At Her Throat On An

Invisible Chain,  And Jewels Flashed From The Little Pointed

Crimson-Satin Slippers,  Setting Off The Slim Ankles In Their

Crimson-Silk Covering. The Whole Effect Was Startling. One Wondered Why

She Had Chosen So Elaborate A Costume To Waste Upon A Single College

Student.

 

She Stood With One Dainty Foot Poised On The Brass Trappings Of The

Hearth. In Her Short Skirts She Seemed Almost A Child; So Sweet The

Droop Of The Pretty Lips; So Innocent The Dark Eyes As They Looked Into

The Fire; So Soft The Shadows That Played In The Dark Hair! And Yet,  As

She Turned To Listen For A Step In The Hall,  There Was Something

Gleaming,  Sinister,  In Those Dark Eyes,  Something Mocking In The Red

Lips. She Might Have Been A Daughter Of Satan As She Stood,  The

Firelight Picking Out Those Jeweled Horns And Slippers.

 

"Leave Him To Me," She Had Said To Her Cousin When He Told Her How The

Brilliant Young Athlete And Intellectual Star Of The University Had Been

Stung By The Religious Bug. "Send Him To Me. I'll Take It Out Of Him And

He'll Never Know It's Gone."

 

Paul Courtland Entered,  Unsuspecting. He Had Met Gila A Number Of Times

Before,  At College Dances And The Games. He Was Not Exactly Flattered,

But Decidedly Pleased That She Had Sent For Him. Her Brightness And

Seeming Innocence Had Attracted Him Strongly.

Chapter 2 Pg 15

The Contrast From The Hall With Its Blaze Of Electrics To The Lurid

Light Of The Library Affected Him Strangely. He Paused On The Threshold

And Passed His Hand Over His Eyes. Gila Stood Where The Ruby Light Of

Hearth And Lamp Would Set Her Vivid Dress On Fire And Light The Jewels

At Her Throat And Hair. She Knew Her Clear Skin,  Dark Hair,  And Eyes

Would Bear The Startling Contrast,  And How Her White Shoulders Gleamed

From The Crimson Velvet. She Knew How To Arrange The Flaming Scarf Of

Gauze Deftly About Those White Shoulders So That It Would Reveal More

Than It Concealed.

 

The Young Man Lingered Unaccountably. He Had A Sense Of Leaving

Something Behind Him. Almost He Hesitated As She Came Forward To Greet

Him,  And Looked Back As If To Rid Himself Of Some Obligation. Then She

Put Her Bits Of Confiding Hands Out To Him And Smiled That Wistful,

Engaging Smile That Would Have Been Worth A Fortune On The Screen.

 

He Thrilled With Wonder Over Her Delicate,  Dazzling Beauty; And Felt The

Luxury Of The Room About Him,  Responding To Its Lure.

 

"So Dandy Of You To Come To Me When You Are So Busy After Your Long

Illness." Her Voice Was Soft And Confiding,  Its Cadences Like Soothing

Music. She Motioned Him To A Chair. "You See,  I Wanted To Have You All

To Myself For A Little While,  Just To Tell You How Perfectly Fine You

Were At That Awful Fire."

 

She Dropped Upon The Couch Drawn Out At Just The Right Angle From The

Fire And Settled Among The Cushions Gracefully. The Flicker Of The

Firelight Played Upon The Jeweled Combs And Gleamed At Her Throat. The

Little Pointed Slippers Cozily Crossed Looked Innocent Enough To Have

Been Meant For The Golden Street. Her Eyes Looked Up Into His With That

Confiding Lure That Thrills And Thrills Again.

 

Her Voice Dropped Softer,  And She Turned Half Away And Gazed Pensively

Into The Fire On The Hearth. "I Wouldn't Let Them Talk To Me About It.

It Seemed So Awful. And You Were So Strong And Great."

 

"It Was Nothing!" He Did Not Want To Talk About The Fire. There Was

Something Incongruous,  Almost Unholy,  In Having It Discussed Here. It

Jangled On His Nerves. For There In Front Of Him In The Fireplace Burned

A Mimic Pit Like The One Into Which The Martyr Steve Had Fallen; And

There Before Him On The Couch Sat The Girl! What Was There So Familiar

About Her? Ah! Now He Knew. The Scarlet Woman! Her Gown Was An Exact

Reproduction Of The One The Great Actress Had Worn On The Stage That

Night. He Was Conscious Of Wishing To Sit Beside Her On That Couch And

Revel In The Ravishing Color Of Her. What Was There About This Room

That Made All His Pulses Beat?

 

Playfully,  Skilfully,  She Led Him On. They Talked Of The Dances And

Games,  Little Gossip Of The University,  With Now And Then A Telling

Personality,  And A Sweep Of Long Lashes Over Pearly Cheeks,  Or A Lifting

Of Great,  Innocent Eyes Of Admiration To His Face.

 

She Offered Wine In Delicate Gold-Incrusted Ruby Glasses,  But Courtland

Chapter 2 Pg 16

Did Not Drink. He Scarcely Noticed Her Veiled Annoyance At His Refusal.

He Was Drinking In The Wine Of Her Presence. She Suggested That He

Smoke,  And Would Not Have Hesitated To Join Him,  Perhaps,  But He Told

Her He Was In Training,  And She Cooed Softly Of His Wonderful Strength

Of Character In Resisting.

 

By This Time He Was In The Coveted Seat Beside Her On The Couch,  And The

Fire Burned Low And Red. They Had Ceased To Talk Of Games And Dances.

They Were Talking Of Each Other,  Those Intimate Nothings That Mean A

Breaking Down Of Distance And A Rapidly Growing Familiarity.

 

The Young Man Was Aware Of The Fascination Of The Small Figure In Her

Crimson Robings,  Sitting So Demurely In The Firelight,  The Gauzy Scarf

Dropped Away From Her White Neck And Shoulders,  The Lovely Curve Of Her

Baby Cheek And Tempting Neck Showing Against The Background Of The

Shadows Behind Her. He Was Aware Of A Distinct Longing To Take Her In

His Arms And Crush Her To Him,  As He Would Pluck A Red Berry From A

Bank,  And Feel Its Stain Upon His Lips. Stain! A Stain Was A Thing That

Was Hard To Remove. There Were Blood-Stains Sometimes And Agonies; And

Yet Men Wanted To Pluck The Berries And Feel The Stain Upon Their Lips!

 

He Was Not Under The Hallucination That He Was Suddenly Falling In Love

With This Girl. He Did Not Name The Passionate Outcry In His Soul Love.

He Knew She Had Been A Charmer Of Many,  And In Yielding Himself To Her

Recognized Power He Was For The Moment Playing With A Force That Was New

And Interesting,  With Which He Had Felt Altogether Strong Enough To

Contend For An Evening Or He Would Not Have Come. That It Should Thrill

Along All His Senses With This Unreasoning Rapture Was Most Astonishing.

He Had Never Been A Fellow To "Fall" For Every Girl He Met,  And Now He

Felt Himself Gradually Yielding To The Beautiful Spell About Him With A

Kind Of Wonder.

 

The Lights And Coloring Of The Room That Had Smote His Senses

Unpleasantly When He First Entered Had Thrown Him Now Into A Kind Of

Delicious Fever. The Neglected Wine Sparkling Dimly In The Costly

Glasses Seemed A Part Of It. He Felt An Impulse To Reach Out,  Seize A

Glass,  And Drain It. What If He Should? What If He Flung Away His Ideas

And Principles And Let The Moment Sway Him As It Would,  Just For Once?

Why Should He Not Try Life As It Presented Itself?

 

These Fancies Fled Through His Brain Like Phantoms That Did Not Dare To

Linger. His Was No Callow Mind,  Ignorant Of The World. He Had Thought

And Read And Lived His Ideas Well For So Young A Man. He Had Vigorously

Protested Against Weakness Of Every Kind; Yet Here He Was Feeling The

Drawing Power Of Things He Had Always Despised; Reveling In The Wine-Red

Color Of The Room,  In The Pit-Like Glow Of The Fire; Watching The Play

Of Smiles And Wistfulness On The Lovely Face Of The Girl. He Had Often

Wondered What Others Saw So Attractive In Her Beyond A Pretty Face. But

Now He Understood. Her Child-Like Speech And Pretty Little Ways

Fascinated Him. Perhaps She Was Really Innocent Of Her Own Charms.

Perhaps A Man Might Lead Her To Give Up Certain Of Her Ways That Caused

Her To Be Criticized. What A Woman She Would Be Then! What A Friend To

Have!

Chapter 2 Pg 17

This Was The Last Sop He Threw To His Conscience Before He Consciously

Began To Yield To The Spell That Was Upon Him.

 

She Had Been Speaking Of Palmistry,  And She Took His Hand In Hers,

Innocently,  Impersonally,  With Large Eyes Lifted Inquiringly. Her Breath

Was On His Face; Her Touch Had Stirred His Senses With A Madness He Had

Never Felt Nor Measured In Himself Before.

 

"The Life-Line Is Here," She Said,  Coolly,  And Traced It Delicately

Along His Palm With A Sea-Shell Tinted Finger. Like Cool Delicious Fire

It Spread From Nerve To Nerve And Set Aside His Reason In A Frenzy. He

Would Seize The Berry And Feel Its Stain Upon His Lips Now No Matter

What!--

 

"Paul!"

 

It Was As Distinct Upon His Ear As If The Words Had Been Spoken; As

Startling And Calming As A Cool Hand Upon His Fevered Brow; The Sudden

Entrance Of A Guest. He Had Seized Her Hands With Sudden Fervor,  And

Now,  Almost In The Same Moment,  Flung Them From Him And Stood Up,  A Man

In Full Possession Of His Senses. "Hark!" He Said,  And As He Spoke A Cry

Broke Faintly Forth Above Them,  And There Was Sound Of Rushing Feet. A

Frightened Maid Burst Into The Room Unannounced.

 

"Oh,  Miss Gila,  I Beg Yer Pardon,  But Master Harry's Got His Father's

Razor,  An' He's Cut Hisself Something Awful."

 

The Maid Was Weeping And Wringing Her Hands Helplessly,  But Gila Stood

Frowning Angrily. Courtland Sprang Up The Stairs. In The Tumult Of His

Mind He Would Have Rejoiced If The House Had Been On Fire,  Or A Cyclone

Had Struck The Place--Anythirepresented In The

Legislative Body,  Without One Representative To Fight Its Battles On What

The World Universally Regards As One Of The Most Important Battle-Fields Of

Civilization. And Yet,  Here,  Too,  They Were Entirely Logical And

Consistent--They Did Not Believe In Parliamentary Government. As Yet,  They

Were Not Disposed To Emphasize This Overmuch,  Not,  Apparently,  Because Of

Any Lack Of Candor And Good Faith,  But Rather Because The Substitute For

Parliamentary Government Had Not Sufficiently Shaped Itself In Their Minds.

The Desire Not To Be Confused With The Anarchists Was Another Reason.

Because The Bolsheviki And The Anarchists Both Oppose Parliamentary

Government And The Political State,  It Has Been Concluded By Many Writers

On The Subject That Bolshevism Is Simply Anarchism In Another Guise. This

Is A Mistake. Bolshevism Is Quite Different From And Opposed To Anarchism.

It Requires Strongly Centralized Government,  Which Anarchism Abhors.

 

Parliamentary Government Cannot Exist Except Upon The Basis Of The Will Of

The Majority. Whoever Enters Into The Parliamentary Struggle,  Therefore,

Must Hope And Aim To Convert The Majority. Back Of That Hope And Aim Must

Be Faith In The Intellectual And Moral Capacity Of The Majority. At The

Foundation Of Bolshevist Theory And Practice Lies The Important Fact That

Chapter 2 Pg 18

There Is No Such Faith,  And,  Consequently,  Neither The Hope Nor The Aim To

Convert The Majority And With Its Strength Make The Revolution. Out Of The

Adult Population Of Russia At That Time Approximately 85 Per Cent. Were

Peasants And Less Than 5 Per Cent. Belonged To The Industrial Proletariat.

At That Time Something Like 70 Per Cent. Of The People Were Illiterate.

Even In St. Petersburg--Where The Standard Of Literacy Was Higher Than In

Any Other City--Not More Than 55 Per Cent. Of The People Could Sign Their

Own Names In 1905,  According To The Most Authentic Government Reports. When

We Contemplate Such Facts As These Can We Wonder That Impatient

Revolutionaries Should Shrink From Attempting The Task Of Converting A

Majority Of The Population To An Intelligent Acceptance Of Socialism?

 

There Was Another Reason Besides This,  However. Lenine--And He Personifies

Bolshevism--Was,  And Is,  A Doctrinaire Marxist Of The Most Dogmatic Type

Conceivable. As Such He Believed That The New Social Order Must Be The

Creation Of That Class Which Is The Peculiar Product Of Modern Capitalism,

The Industrial Proletariat. To That Class Alone He And His Followers Pinned

All Their Faith And Hope,  And That Class Was A Small Minority Of The

Population And Bound To Remain A Minority For A Very Long Period Of Years.

Here,  Then,  We Have The Key. It Cannot Be Too Strongly Stressed That The

Bolsheviki Did Not Base Their Hope Upon The Working Class Of Russia,  And

Did Not Trust It. The Working Class Of Russia--If We Are To Use The Term

With An Intelligent Regard To Realities--Was And Is Mainly Composed Of

Peasants; The Industrial Proletariat Was And Is Only A Relatively Small

Part Of The Great Working Class Of The Nation. _But It Is Upon That Small

Section,  As Against The Rest Of The Working Class,  That Bolshevism Relies_.

 

Lenine Has Always Refused To Include The Peasants In His Definition Of The

Working Class. With Almost Fanatical Intensity He Has Insisted That The

Peasant,  Together With The Petty Manufacturer And Trader,  Would Soon

Disappear; That Industrial Concentration Would Have Its Counterpart In A

Great Concentration Of Landownings And Agriculture; That The Small Peasant

Holdings Would Be Swallowed Up By Large,  Modern Agricultural Estates,  With

The Result That There Would Be An Immense Mass Of Landless Agricultural

Wage-Workers. This Class Would,  Of Course,  Be A Genuinely Proletarian

Class,  And Its Interests Would Be Identical With Those Of The Industrial

Proletariat. Until That Time Came It Would Be Dangerous To Rely Upon The

Peasants,  He Urged,  Because Their Instincts Are Bourgeois Rather Than

Proletarian. Naturally,  He Has Looked Askance At The Peasant Socialist

E Flung Them From Him. He Had

Sprung From The Couch Almost As If He Had Been Under Orders. She Could

Not Understand It,  Only She Knew She Was Drawn By It All.

 

But He Should Yield! She Had Power And She Would Use It. She Had Beauty

And It Should Wound Him. She Would Win That Gentle Deference And

Attention For Her Own. In Her Jealous,  Spoiled,  Little Heart She Hated

The Little Brother For Lying There In His Arms So,  Interrupting Their

Evening Just When She Had Him Where She Had Wanted Him. Whether She

Wanted Him For More Than A Plaything She Did Not Know,  But Her Plaything

He Should Be As Long As She Desired Him--And More Also If She Chose.

 

When Courtland Lifted His Head At The Sound Of The Doctor's Footsteps On

The Stairs He Saw The Challenge In Gila's Eyes. Drawn Up Against The

White Enamel Of The Bathroom Door,  All Her Brilliant Velvet And Jewels

Gleaming In The Brightness Of The Room,  Her Regal Little Head Up,  Her

Chin Lifted Half Haughtily,  Her Innocent Mouth Pursed Softly With

Determination,  Her Eyes Wide With An Inscrutable Look--Something More

Than Challenge--Something Soft,  Appealing,  Alluring,  That Stirred Him

And Drew Him And Repelled Him All In One.

 

With A Sense Of Something Stronger Than He Was Back Of Him,  He Lifted

His Own Chin And Hardened His Eyes In Answering Challenge. He Did Not

Know It,  Of Course,  But He Wore The Look That He Always Had When About

To Meet A Foe In A Game--A Look Of Strength And Concealed Power That

Nearly Always Made The Coming Foe Quake When He Saw It.

 

He Shrank From Going Back To That Red Room Again,  Or From Being Alone

With Her; And When She Would Have Had Him Return To The Library He

Declined,  Urging Studies And An Examination On The Morrow. She Received

His Somewhat Brusque Reply With A Hurt Look,  Her Mouth Drooped

Grievedly,  And Her Eyes Took On A Wide,  Child-Like Look Of Distress That

Gave An Impression Of Innocence. He Went Away Wondering If,  After All,

He Had Not Misjudged Her. Perhaps She Was Only An Adorable Child Who Had

No Idea Of The Effect Her Artlessness Had Upon Men. She Certainly Was

Lovely--Wonderful! And Yet The Last Glimpse He Had Of Her Had Left That

Impression Of Jeweled Horns And Scarlet,  Pointed Toes. He Had To Get

Away And Think It Out Calmly Before He Went Again. Oh Yes,  He Was Going

_Again_. He Had Promised Her At The Last Moment.

 

The Sense Of Having Escaped Something Fateful Was Passing Already. The

Coolness Of The Night And The Quiet Of The Starlight Had Calmed Him. He

Thought He Had Been A Fool Not To Have Stayed A Little Longer When She

Asked Him So Prettily; And He Must Go Soon Again.

 

 

Chapter 3 Pg 19

"I Think I'll Go To Church This Morning,  Nelly. Do You Want To Go

Along?" Announced Courtland,  The Next Morning.

 

Tennelly Looked Up Aghast From The Sporting Page Of The Morning Paper He

Was Lazily Reading.

 

"Go With Him,  Nelly,  That's A Good Boy!" Put In Bill Ward,  Agreeably,

Winking His Off Eye At Tennelly. "It'll Do You Good. I'd Go With You,

Only I've Got To Get That Condition Made Up Or They'll Fire Me Off The

'Varsity,  And I Only Need This One More Game To Get My Letter."

 

"Go To Thunder!" Growled Tennelly. "What Do You Think I Want To Go To

Church For A Morning Like This? Court,  You're Crazy! Let's Go And Get

Two Saddle-Horses And Ride In The Park. It's A Peach Of A Morning For A

Ride."

 

"I Think I'll Go To Church," Said Courtland,  With His Old Voice Of Quiet

Decision. "Do You Want To Go Or Not?"

 

There Was Something About Courtland's Voice,  And The Way Bill Ward Kept

Up Winking His Off Eye,  That Subdued Tennelly.

 

"Sure,  I'll Go," He Growled,  Reluctantly.

 

"You Old Crab,  You," Chirped Bill,  Cheerfully,  When Courtland Had Gone

Out. "Can't You See You've Got To Humor Him? He Needs Homeopathic

Treatment. 'Like Cures Like.' Give Him A Good Dose Of Religion And He'll

Get Good And Tired Of It. Church Won't Hurt Him Any,  Just Give Him A

Good,  Pious Feeling So He'll Feel Free To Do As He Pleases During The

Week. I Had A 'Phone From Gila This Morning. She Says He's Made Anoiratory Movements That This Should Be So,  And Also That It Should

Result In Saturating The Minds Of All Engaged In The Movements With

Distrust And Suspicion. More Than Once The Charge Of Being A Provocateur

Was Leveled At Lenine And At Trotzky,  But Without Justification,

Apparently. There Was,  Indeed,  One Incident Which Placed Lenine In A Bad

Light. It Belongs To A Somewhat Later Period Than We Have Been Discussing,

But It Serves Admirably To Illustrate Conditions Which Obtained Throughout

The Whole Dark Period Between The Two Great Revolutions. One Of Lenine's

Close Friends And Disciples Was Roman Malinovsky,  A Fiery Speaker Of

Considerable Power,  Distinguished For His Bitter Attacks Upon The Bourgeois

Progressive Parties And Upon The Mensheviki. The Tenor Of His Speeches Was

Always The Same--Only The Interest Of The Proletariat Should Be Considered;

All Bourgeois Political Parties And Groups Were Equally Reactionary,  And

Any Co-Operation With Them,  For Any Purpose,  Was A Betrayal Of Socialist

Principle.

 

Malinovsky Was Trusted By The Bolsheviki. He Was Elected To The Fourth

Duma,  Where He Became The Leader Of The Little Group Of Thirteen Social

Democrats. Like Other Members Of The Bolshevik Faction,  He Entered The

Duma,  Despite His Contempt For Parliamentary Action,  Simply Because It

Afforded Him A Useful Opportunity For Agitation And Demonstrations. In The

Duma He Assailed Even A Portion Of The Social Democratic Group As Belonging

To The Bourgeoisie,  Succeeding In Splitting It In Two Factions And Becoming

Chapter 3 Pg 20

The Leader Of The Bolshevik Faction,  Numbering Six. This Blatant Demagogue,

Whom Lenine Called "The Russian Bebel," Was Proposed For Membership In The

International Socialist Bureau,  The Supreme Council Of The International

Socialist Movement,  And Would Have Been Sent As A Delegate To That Body As

A Representative Of Russian Socialist Movement But For The Discovery Of The

Fact That He Was A Secret Agent Of The Czar's Government!

 

It Was Proved That Malinovsky Was A Provocateur In The Pay Of The Police

Department,  And That Many,  If Not All,  Of His Speeches Had Been Prepared

For Him In The Police Department By A Former Director Named Beletzky. The

Exposure Made A Great Sensation In Russian Socialist Circles At The Time,

And The Fact That It Was Nikolai Lenine Who Had Proposed That Malinovsky Be

Chosen To Sit In The International Socialist Bureau Naturally Caused A

Great Deal Of Unfriendly Comment. It Cannot Be Denied That The Incident

Placed Lenine In An Unfavorable Light,  But It Must Be Admitted That

Nothing Developed To Suggest That He Was Guilty Of Anything More Serious

Than Permitting Himself To Be Outwitted And Deceived By A Cunning

Trickster. The Incident Serves To Show,  However,  The Ease With Which The

Extreme Fanaticism Of The Bolsheviki Played Into The Hands Of The

Autocracy.

 

 

 

 

Vii

 

While Bolsheviki And Mensheviki Wrangled And Disputed,  Great Forces Were At

Work Among The Russian People. By 1910 The Terrible Pall Of Depression And

Despair Which Had Settled Upon The Nation As A Result Of The Failure Of The

First Revolution Began To Break. There Was A New Generation Of College

Students,  Youthful And Optimistic Spirits Who Were Undeterred By The

Failure Of 1905-06,  Confident That They Were Wiser And Certain To Succeed.

Also There Had Been An Enormous Growth Of Working-Class Organizations,

Large Numbers Of Unions And Co-Operative Societies Having Been Formed In

Spite Of The Efforts Of The Government. The Soul Of Russia Was Once More

Stirring.

 

The End Of 1910 And The Beginning Of 1911 Witnessed A New Series Of

Strikes,  Such As Had Not Occurred Since 1905. The First Were Students'

Strikes,  Inaugurated In Support Of Their Demand For The Abolition Of

Capital Punishment. These Were Quickly Followed By Important Strikes In The

Industrial Centers For Economic Ends--Better Wages And Shorter

Working-Hours. As In The Period Immediately Preceding The First Revolution,

Chapter 3 Pg 21

The Industrial Unrest Soon Manifested Itself In Political Ways. Without Any

Conscious Leade The University They Met Gila Dare. Gila All In Gray

Like A Dove,  Gray Suit Of Soft,  Rich Cloth,  Gray Furs Of The Depth And

Richness Of Smoke,  Gray Suede Boots Laced High To Meet Her Brief Gray

Skirts,  Silver Hat With A Single Velvet Rose On The Brim To Match The

Soft Rose-Bloom On Her Cheeks. Gila With Eyes As Wide And Innocent As A

Baby's,  Cupid Mouth Curved Sweetly In A Gracious,  Shy Smile,  And Dainty

Little Prayer-Book Done In Gray Suede Held Devoutly In Her Little Gloved

Hand.

 

"Who's That?" Growled Tennelly,  Admiringly,  When They Had Passed A

Suitable Distance.

 

"Why,  That's Bill Ward's Cousin,  Gila Dare," Announced Courtland,

Graciously. He Was Still Basking In The Pleasure Of Her Smile,  And

Thinking How Different She Looked From Last Evening In This Soft,  Gray,

Silvery Effect. Yes,  He Had Misjudged Her. A Girl Who Could Look Like

That Must Be Sweet And Pure And Unspoiled. It Had Been That Unfortunate

Dress Last Night That Had Reminded Him Unpleasantly Of The Scarlet Woman

And The Awful Night Of The Fire. If He Ever Got Well Enough Acquainted

He Would Ask Her Never To Wear Red Again; It Made Her Appear Sensual;

And Even She,  Delicate And Sweet As She Was,  Could Not Afford To Cast A

Thought Like That Into The Minds Of Her Beholders. It Was Then He Began

To Idealize Gila.

 

"Gila Dare!" Tennelly Straightened Up And Took Notice. So That Was The

Invincible Gila! That Little Soft-Eyed Exquisite Thing With The Hair

Like A Midnight Cloud.

 

"Some Looker!" He Commented,  Approvingly,  And Wished He Were In

Courtland's Shoes.

 

"She's Got In Her Work All Right," He Commented To Himself. "Old Court's

Fallen Already. Guess I'll Have To Buy A Straw Hat,  It'll Be More

Edible."

 

Courtland Was Like His Gay Old Self When He Got Back To The Dormitory.

He Joked A Great Deal. His Eyes Were Bright And His Color Better Than It

Had Been Since He Was Sick. He Said Nothing About The Morning Service,

And By And By Bill Ward Ventured A Question: "What Kind Of A Harangue

Did You Hear This Morning?"

 

"Rotten!" He Answered,  Promptly,  And Turned Away. Somehow That Question

Recalled Him To The Uneasiness Within His Soul For Which He Had Sought

Solace In The Church Service. He Became Silent Again,  And,  Strolling

Away Into Stephen's Room And Closing The Door,  Sat Down.

 

There Was Something Strange About That Room. The Presence Seemed Always

To Be There. It Hadn't Made Itself Felt In The Church At All,  As He Had

Half Hoped It Would. He Had Taken Tennelly With Him Because He Wanted

Something Tangible,  Friendly,  Sane,  From The World He Knew,  To Give Him

Ballast. If The Presence Had Been In The Church,  With Tennelly By His

Chapter 3 Pg 22

Side,  He Would Have Been Sure It Was Not Wholly A Hallucination

Connected With His Memory Of Stephen.

 

It Was Strange,  For Now That He Sat There In That Quiet Room That Had

Once Witnessed The Trying Out Of A Manly Soul,  And Saw The Calm Eyes Of

The Plain Mother On The Wall Opposite,  And The True Eyes Of The Dowdy

School-Boy On The Other Wall,  He Was Feeling The Presence Again!

 

Why Hadn't He Felt Its Power In The Church? Was It Because Of The

Presence Of Such People In The Temple As That Little Mean-Souled

Professor,  Whom Everybody Knew To Be Insincere From The Crown Of His

Head To The Soles Of His Sly Little Feet? Was It Because The People Were

Cold And Careless And Didn't Sing Even With Their Lips,  Let Alone Their

Hearts,  But Hired It All Done For Them?

 

And Then There Had Been That Call Of His Name When He Was With Gila

Dare,  As Clear And Distinct,  Like A Friend He Had Left Outside Who Had

Grown Tired Of Waiting,  And Worried About Him. Why Hadn't The Sense Of

The Presence Gone With Him Into The Room? Would A Presence Like That Be

Afraid Of Hostile Influences? No. If It Was Real And A Presence At All

It Would Be More Powerful Than Any Other Influence In The Universe. Then

Why?

 

Could It Be That He Had Gone Deliberately Into An Influence That Would

Make It Impossible For The Presence To Guide?

 

Or Was It Possible That His Own Attitude Toward That Girl Had Been At

Fault? He Had Gone To See Her Regarding Her Somewhat Lightly. As A

Gentleman He Should Regard No Woman With Disrespect. Her Womanhood

Should Be Honored By Him Even If She Chose To Dishonor It Herself. If He

Had Gone To See Gila With A Different Attitude Toward Her,  Expecting

High,  Fine Things Of Her,  Rather Than Merely To Be Amused By One Whom He

Scarcely Regarded Seriously,  Perhaps All This Strange Mental Phenomena

Would Not Have Come To Pass.

 

Finally He Locked The Door And Knelt Down With His Head Upon The Worn

Bible. He Had No Idea Of Praying. Prayer Meant To Him But A Repetition

Of A Form Of Words. There Had Been Prayers In His Childhood,  Brought

About By The Maiden Aunt Who Kept House For His Father After His

Mother's Death,  And Assisted In Bringing Him Up Until He Was Old Enough

To Go Away To Boarding-School. They Were A Good Deal Of A Bore,  Coming

As They Did When He Was Sleepy. There Was A Long,  Vague One Beginning,

"Our Father Which Art," In Which He Always Had To Be Prompted. There

Was,  "Now I Lay Me," And "Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  And John,  Bless The Bed I

Lie Upon; Wish I May,  Wish I Might,  Get The Wish I Wish To-Night!" Or

_Was_ That A Prayer? He Never Could Remember As He Grew Older.

 

He Did Not Know Why He Was Drawn To Kneel There With His Eyes Closed And

His Cheek Upon That Bible. Strange That When He Was In That Room All

Doubt About The Presence Vanished,  All Uneasiness About Reconciling It

With Realities,  Laws,  And Science Fled Away.

 

Later He Stood In His Own Room By The Window,  Watching The Great Red Sun

Chapter 3 Pg 23

Buildings That Stretched Beyond The Campus. The Glow In No Wise

Resembled,  But Yet Reminded Him,  Of The Fire In The Glowing Grate Of The

Dare Library. Why Had That Room Affected Him So Strangely? And Gila,

Little Gila,  How Sweet And Innocent She Had Looked When They Met Her

That Morning With Her Prayer-Book. How Wrong He Must Have Been To Take

The Idle Talk That People Chattered About Her And Let It Influence His

Thoughts Of Her. She Could Not Be All That They Said,  And Yet Look So

Sweet And Innocent. What Had She Reminded Him Of In Literature? Ah! He

Had It. Solveig In _Peer Gynt_!

 

       How Fair! Did Ever You See The Like?

     Looked Down At Her Shoes And Her Snow-White Apron!--

     And Then She Held On To Her Mother's Skirt-Folds,

     And Carried A Psalm-Book Wrapped Up In A 'Kerchief!--

 

That Ample Purple Person By Her Side,  With The Dark Eyes,  The Double

Chin,  And The Hard Lines In Her Painted Face,  Must Be Gila's Mother!

Perhaps People Talked About The Daughter Because Of Her Mother,  For

_She_ Looked It Fully! But Then A Girl Couldn't Help Having A Foolish

Mother! She Was To Be Pitied More Than Blamed If She Seemed Silly And

Frivolous Now And Then.

 

What A Thing For A Man To Do,  To Teach Her To Trust Him,  And Then Guide

Her And Help Her And Uplift Her Till She Had The Highest Standards

Formed! She Was So Young And Tiny,  And So Sweet At Times! Yes,  She Was,

She Must Be,  Like Solveig.

 

If A Man With A Good Moral Character,  A Tolerably Decent Reputation For

Good Taste And Respectability,  No Fool At His Studies,  No Stain On His

Name,  Should Go With Her,  Help Her,  Get Her To Give Up Certain Daring

Things She Had The Name Of Doing--If Such A Fellow Should Give Her The

Protection Of His Friendship And Let The World See That He Considered

Her Respectable--Wouldn't It Help A Lot? Wouldn't It Stop People's

Mouths And Make Them See That Gila Wasn't What They Had Been Saying,

After All?

 

It Came To Him That This Would Be A Very Pleasant Mission,  For His

Leisure Hours During The Rest Of That Winter. All Thought Of Any Danger

To Himself Through Such Intercourse As He Was Suggesting To His Thoughts

Had Departed From His Mind.

 

Half A Mile Away Gila Was Pouring Tea For Two Extremely Ardent Youths

Who Scarcely Occupied Half Of Her Mind. With The Other Half She Was

Planning A Little Note Which Should Bring Courtland To Her Side Early In

The Week. She Had No Thoughts Of God. She Was Never Troubled With Much

Pondering. She Knew Exactly What She Wanted Without Thinking Any Further

About It,  And She Meant To Have It.

 

Chapter 4 Pg 24

It Was A Great Source Of Question With Courtland Afterward,  Just Why It

Should Have Been He That Happened To Carry That Telegram Over To The

West Dormitory To Wittemore,  Instead Of Any One Of A Dozen Other Fellows

Who Were In The Office When It Arrived And Might Just As Well Have Gone.

Did Anything In This World _Happen_,  He Wondered?

 

He Could Not Tell Why He Had Held Out His Hand And Offered To Take The

Message.

 

It Was Not Because He Was Not Trying Hard,  And Studying For All He Was

Worth,  That "Witless Abner," As Wittemore Had Come To Be Called,  Had Won

His Nickname. He Worked Night And Day,  Plunged In A Maze Of Things He

Did Not Quite Understand Until Long After The Rest Of The Class Had

Passed Them. He Was Majoring In Sociology Through The Advice Of A

Faddist Uncle Who Had Never Seen Him. He Had Told Abner's Mother That

Sociology Was The Coming Science,  And Abner Was Faithfully Carrying Out

The Course Of Study He Suggested. He Was Floundering Through Hours Of

Lectures On The Theory Of The Subject,  And Conscientiously Working In

The College Settlement To Get The Practical Side Of Things. He Had The

Distressed Look Of A Person With Very Short Legs Who Is Trying To Keep

Up With A Procession Of Six-Footers,  Although There Was Nothing Short

About Abner. His Legs Were Long,  And His Body Was Long,  His Arms Were

Long,  Too Long For Most Of His Sleeves. His Face Was Long,  His Nose And

Chin Were Painfully Long,  And Were Accompanied By A Sensitive Mouth

That Was Always On The Quiver With Apprehension,  Like A Rabbit's,  And

Little Light Eyes With Whitish Eyelashes. His Hair Was Like Licked Hay.

There Was Absolutely Nothing Attractive About Wittemore Except His

Smile,  And He So Seldom Smiled That Few Of The Boys Had Ever Seen It. He

Had Almost No Friends.

 

He Had Apparently Just Entered His Room When Courtland Reached His Door,

And Was Stumbling About In A Hurry To Turn On The Light. He Stopped With

His Lips Aquiver And A Dart Of Fear In His Eyes When He Saw The

Telegram. Nobody But His Mother Would Send Him A Telegram,  And She Would

Never Waste The Money For It Unless There Was Something Dreadful The

Matter. He Looked At It Fearfully,  Holding It In His Hand And Glancing

Up Again At Courtland Half Helplessly,  As If He Feared To Open It.

 

Then,  With That Set,  Stolid Look Of Prodding Ahead That Characterized

All Abner's Movements He Clumsily Tore Open The Envelope.

 

"Your Mother Is Dying. Come At Once," Were The Terse,  Cruel Words That

He Read,  Signed With A Neighbor's Initials.

 

The Young Man Gave The Gasp Of A Hurt Thing And Stood Gaping Up At

Chapter 4 Pg 25

Courtland.

 

"Nothing The Matter,  I Hope," Said Courtland,  Kindly,  Moved By The Gray,

Stricken Look That Had Come Over The Poor Fellow's Face.

 

"It's Mother!" He Gasped. "Read!" He Thrust The Telegram Into

Courtland's Hand And Sank Down On The Side Of His Bed With His Head In

His Hands.

 

"Tough Luck,  Old Man!" Said Courtland,  With A Kindly Hand On The Bowed

Shoulder. "But Maybe It's Only A Scare. Sometimes People Get Better When

They're Pretty Sick,  You Know."

 

Wittemore Shook His Head. "No. We've Been Expecting This,  She And I.

She's Been Sick A Long Time. I Didn't Want To Come Back This Year! I

Thought She Was Failing! But She Would Have It! She'd Got Her Heart So

Set On My Graduating!"

 

"Well,  Cheer Up!" Said Courtland,  Breezily. "Very Likely Your Coming

Will Help Her To Rally Again! What Train Do You Want To Get? Can I Help

You Any?"

 

Wittemore Lifted His Head And Looked About His Room Helplessly. It Was

Plain He Was Dazed.

 

Courtland Looked Up The Train,  'Phoned For A Taxi,  Went Around The Room

Gathering Up What He Thought Would Be Necessities For The Journey,  While

Wittemore Was Inadequately Trying To Get Himself Dressed. Suddenly

Wittemore Stopped Short In The Midst Of His Ineffective Efforts And Drew

Something Out Of His Pocket With An Exce Strange

For Wilhelm Ii To Aid Nicholas Ii In Quelling A Revolution That Menaced His

Throne Than It Was For Alexander I To Aid In Putting Down Revolution In

Germany; Or Than It Was For Nicholas I To Crush The Hungarian Revolution In

1849,  In The Interest Of Francis Joseph; Or Than It Was For Bismarck To

Rush To The Aid Of Alexander Ii In Putting Down The Polish Insurrection In

1863.

 

The Democrats Of Russia Knew,  Moreover,  That,  In Addition To The Natural

Affinity Which Served To Bind The Two Autocracies,  The Romanov And

Hohenzollern Dynasties Had Been Closely Knit Together In A Strong Union By

Years And Years Of Carefully Planned And Strongly Wrought Blood Ties. As

Isaac Don Lenine Reminds Us In His Admirable Study Of The Russian

Revolution,  Nicholas Ii Was More Than Seven-Eighths German,  Less Than

One-Eighth Of His Blood Heritage Being Romanov. Catherine The Great,  Wife

Of Peter Iii,  Was A Prussian By Birth And Heritage And Thoroughly

Prussianized Her Court. After Her--From 1796 To 1917--Six Czars Reigned In

Russia,  Five Of Whom Married German Wives. As Was Inevitable In Such

Circumstances,  The Russian Court Had Long Been Notoriously Subject To

German Influences And Strongly Pro-German In Its Sympathies--By No Means 

Chapter 4 Pg 26

Small Matter In An Autocratic Country. Fully Aware Of Their Advantage,  The

Kaiser And His Ministers Increased The German Influence And Power At The

Russian Court By Encouraging German Nobles To Marry Into Russian Court

Circles. The Closing Decade Of The Reign Of Nicholas Ii Was Marked By An

Extraordinary Increase Of Prussian Influence In His Court,  An Achievement

In Which The Kaiser Was Greatly Assisted By The Czarina,  Who Was,  It Will

Be Remembered,  A German Princess.

 

Naturally,  The German Composition And Character Of The Czar's Court Was

Reflected In The Diplomatic Service And In The Most Important Departments

Of The Russian Government,  Including The Army. The Russian Secret Service

Was Very Largely In The Hands Of Germans And Russians Who Had Married

German Wives. The Same Thing May Be Said Of The Police Department. Many Of

The Generals And Other High Officers In The Russian Army Were Either Of

German Parentage Or Connected With Germany By Marriage Ties. In Brief,  The

Whole Russian Bureaucracy Was Honeycombed By German Influence.

 

Outside Official Circles,  Much The Same Condition Existed Among The Great

Landowners. Those Of The Baltic Provinces Were Largely Of Teutonic Descent,

Of Course. Many Had Married German Wives. The Result Was That The Nobility

Of These Provinces,  Long Peculiarly Influential In The Political Life Of

Russia,  Was,  To A Very Large Degree,  Pro-German. In Addition To These,

There Were Numerous Large Landowners Of German Birth,  While Many,  Probably

A Big Majority,  Of The Superintendents Of The Large Industrial

Establishments And Landed Estates Were German Citizens. It Is Notorious

That The Principal Factories Upon Which Russia Had To Rely For Guns And

Munitions Were In Charge Of Germans,  Who Had Been Introduced Because Of

Their High Technical Efficiency.

 

In View Of These Facts,  And A Mass Of Similar Facts Which Might Be Cited,

It Was Natural For The Democrats Of Russia To Identify Germany And German

Intrigue And Influence With The Hated Bureaucracy. It Was As Natural As It

Was For The German Influence To Be Used Against The Democratic Movement In

Russia,  As It Invariably Was. Practically The Entire Mass Of Democratic

Opinion In Russia,  Including,  Of Course,  All The Socialist Factions,

Regarded These Royal,  Aristocratic,  And Bureaucratic German Influences As A

Menace To Russia,  A Cancer That Must Be Cut Out. With The Exception Of A

Section Of The Socialists,  Whose Position We Shall Presently Examine,  The

Mass Of Liberal-Thinking,  Progressive,  Democratic Russians Saw In The War A

Welcome Breaking Of The German Yoke. Believing That The Victory Of Germany

Would Restore The Yoke,  And That Her Defeat By Russia Would Eliminate The

Power Which Had Sustained Czarism,  They Welcomed The War And Rallied With

Laughed Aloud. "You Won't Find No Such Thing As Gas

Around This Part O' Town. There's About An Inch Of Candle Up On That

Shelf. The Distric' Nurse Left It There. I Was Thinkin' Mebbe I'd Get

Mr. Widymer To Light It Fer Me When He Come,  An' Then The Night

Chapter 4 Pg 27

Wouldn't Seem So Long. It's Awful,  When You're Sufferin' To Have The

Nights Long."

 

He Groped Till He Found The Shelf And Lit The Candle. By Degrees The

Flickering Light Revealed To Him A Small Bare Room With No Furniture

Except A Bed,  A Chair,  A Small Stove,  And A Table. A Box In The Corner

Apparently Contained A Few Worn Garments. Some Dishes And Provisions

Were Huddled On The Table. The Walls And Floor Were Bare. The District

Nurse Had Done Her Level Best To Clear Up,  Perhaps,  But There Had Been

No Attempt At Good Cheer. A Desolate Place Indeed To Spend A Weary Night

Of Suffering,  Even With An Inch Of Candle Sending Weird Flickerings

Across The Dusky Ceiling.

 

His Impulse Was To Flee,  But Somehow He Couldn't. "Here's This

Medicine," He Said. "Where Do You Want Me To Put It?"

 

The Woman Motioned With A Bony Hand Toward The Table. "There's A Cup And

Spoon Over There Somewhere," She Said,  Weakly. "If You Could Go Get Me A

Pitcher Of Water And Set It Here On A Chair I Could Manage To Take It

Durin' The Night."

 

He Could See Her Better Now,  For The Candle Was Flaring Bravely. She Was

Little And Old. Her Thin,  White Hair Straggled Pitifully About Her

Small,  Wrinkled Face,  Her Eyes Looked As If They Had Been Burned Almost

Out By Suffering. He Saw She Was Drawn And Quivering With Pain,  Even Now

As She Tried To Speak Cheerfully. A Something Rebellious In Him Yielded

To The Nerve Of The Little Old Woman,  And He Put Down His Impatience.

Sure He Would Get Her The Water!

 

She Explained That The Hydrant Was Down On The Street. He Took The

Doubtful-Looking Pitcher And Stumbled Out Upon Those Narrow,  Rickety

Stairs Again.

 

Way Down To The Street And Back In That Inky Blackness! "Gosh! Thunder!

The Deuce!" (He Didn't Allow Himself Any Stronger Words These Days.)

Was This The Kind Of Thing One Was Up Against When One Majored In

Sociology?

 

"I Be'n Thinkin'," Said The Old Lady,  Quaveringly,  When He Stumbled,

Blinking,  Back Into The Room Again With The Water,  "Ef You Wouldn't Mind

Jest Stirrin' Up The Fire An' Makin' Me A Sup O' Tea It Would Be Real

Heartenin'. I 'Ain't Et Nothin' All Day 'Cause The Pain Was So Bad,  But

I Think It'll Ease Up When I Git A Dose Of The Medicine,  And P'r'aps I

Might Eat A Bite."

 

Courtland Was Appalled,  But He Went Vigorously To Work At That Fire,

Although He Had Never Laid Eyes On Anything So Primitive As That Stove

In All His Life. Presently,  By Using Common Sense,  He Had The Thing

Going And A Forlorn Little Kettle Steaming Away Cheerfully.

 

The Old Woman Cautioned Him Against Using Too Much Tea. There Must Be At

Least Three Drawings Left,  And It Would Be A Long Time,  Perhaps,  Before

She Got Any More. Yes,  There Was A Little Mite Of Sugar In A Paper On

Chapter 4 Pg 28

"There's Some Bread There,  Too--Half A Loaf 'Most--But I Guess It's

Pretty Dry. You Don't Know How To Make Toast I 'Spose," She Added,

Wistfully.

 

Courtland Had Never Made Toast In His Life. He Abominated It. She Told

Him How To Hold It Up On A Fork In Front Of The Coals And He Managed To

Do Two Very Creditable Slices. He Had Forgotten His Own Supper Now.

There Was Something Quite Fresh And Original In The Whole Experience. It

Would Have Been Interesting To Have Told The Boys,  If There Weren't Some

Features About It That Were Almost Sacred. He Wondered What The Gang

Would Say When He Told Them About Wittemore! Poor Wittemore! He Wasn't

As Nutty As They Had Thought! He Had Good In His Heart! Courtland Poured

The Tea,  But The Sugar-Paper Had Proved Quite Empty When He Found It;

Likewise A Plate That Had Once Contained Butter.

 

The Toast And Tea,  However,  Seemed To Be Quite Acceptable Without Its

Usual Accessories. "Now," He Said,  With A Long Breath,  "Is There

Anything Else You'd Like Done Before I Go?--For I Must Be Gettingred A Free Outlet To The Warm

Waters Of The Mediterranean,  Which Alone Could Give Her Free Access To The

Great Ocean Highways. Therefore They Hoped That One Result Of A Victorious

War By The Entente Against The Central Empires,  In Which Russia Would Play

An Important Part,  Would Be The Acquisition Of Constantinople By Russia.

Thus The Old Vision Of The Czars Had Become The Vision Of An Influential

And Rising Class With A Solid Basis Of Economic Interest.

 

 

 

 

Iii

 

As In Every Other Country Involved,  The Socialist Movement Was Sharply

Divided By The War. Paradoxical As It Seems,  In Spite Of The Great Revival

Of Revolutionary Hope And Sentiment In The First Half Of The Year,  The

Socialist Parties And Groups Were Not Strong When The War Broke Out. They

Were,  Indeed,  At A Very Low State. They Had Not Yet Recovered From The

Reaction. The Manipulation Of The Electoral Laws Following The Dissolution

Of The Second Duma,  And The Systematic Oppression And Repression Of All

Radical Organizations By The Administration,  Had Greatly Reduced The

Socialist Parties In Membership And Influence. The Masses Were,  For A Long

Time,  Weary Of Struggle,  Despondent,  And Passive. The Socialist Factions

Meanwhile Were Engaged In An Apparently Interminable Controversy Upon

Theoretical And Tactical Questions In Which The Masses Of The

Working-People,  When They Began To Stir At Last,  Took No Interest,  And

Which They Could Hardly Be Supposed To Understand. The Socialist Parties

And Groups Were Subject To A Very Great Disability In That Their Leaders

Were Practically All In Exile. Had A Revolution Broken Out,  As It Would

Chapter 4 Pg 29

Have Done But For The War,  Socialist Leadership Would Have Asserted Itself.

 

As In All Other Countries,  The Divisions Of Opinion Created By The War

Among The Socialists Cut Across All Previous Existing Lines Of Separation

And Made It Impossible To Say That This Or That Faction Adopted A

Particular View. Just As In Germany,  France,  And England,  Some Of The Most

Revolutionary Socialists Joined With The More Moderate Socialists In

Upholding The War,  While Extremely Moderate Socialists Joined With

Socialists Of The Opposite Extreme In Opposing It. It Is Possible,  However,

To Set Forth The Principal Features Of The Division With Tolerable

Accuracy:

 

A Majority Of The Socialist-Revolutionary Party Executive Issued An

Anti-War Manifesto. There Is No Means Of Telling How Far The Views

Expressed Represented The Attitude Of The Peasant Socialists As A Whole,

Owing To The Disorganized State Of The Party And The Difficulties Of

Assembling The Members. The Manifesto Read:

 

    There Is No Doubt That Austrian Imperialism Is Responsible For The

    War With Serbia. But Is It Not Equally Criminal On The Part Of

    Serbs To Refuse Autonomy To Macedonia And To Oppress Smaller And

    Weaker Nations?

 

    It Is The Protection Of This State That Our Government Considers

    Its "Sacred Duty." What Hypocrisy! Imagine The Intervention Of The

    Czar On Behalf Of Poor Serbia,  Whilst He Martyrizes Poland,

    Finland And The Jews,  And Behaves Like A Brigand Toward Persia.

 

    Whatever May Be The Course Of Events,  The Russian Workers And

    Peasants Will Continue Their Heroic Fight To Obtain For Russia A

    Place Among Civilized Nations.

 

This Manifesto Was Issued,  As Reported In The Socialist Press,  Prior To The

Actual Declaration Of War. It Was A Threat Of Revolution Made With A View

To Preventing The War,  If Possible,  And Belongs To The Same Category As The

Similar Threats Of Revolution Made By The German Socialists Before The War

To The Same End. The Mildness Of Manner Which Characterizes The Manifesto

May Be Attributed To Two Causes--Weakness Of The Movement And A Resulting

Lack Of Assurance,  Together With A Lack Of Conviction Arising From The Fact

That Many Of The Leaders,  While They Hated The Czar And All His Works,  And

Could Not Reconcile Themselves To The Idea Of Making Any Kind Of Truce With

Their Great Enemy,  Nevertheless Were Pro-Ally And Anxious For The Defeat Of

German Tfully,  "Not That I Know Of." The

Suggestion Struck Him Curiously As One Who Hears For The First Time That

There Is A Possibility That He May Be Selected For Some Important

Chapter 4 Pg 30

Foreign Embassy.

 

"Well,  Then,  Yer Surely A Blessed Child O' God Himself,  Anyhow,  And This

Is A Great Night Fer This Poor Little Room To Be Honored With A Pretty

Prayer Like That!"

 

Scarcely Hearing Her,  He Said Good Night And Went Thoughtfully Down The

Dark Stairs,  A Strange Sense Of Peace Upon Him. Curiously Enough,  While

He Felt That He Had Left The Presence Up In That Little Dismal Room,  It

Yet Seemed To Be Moving Beside Him,  Touching His Soul,  Breathing Upon

Him! He Was So Engrossed With This Thought That It Never Occurred To Him

That He Had Given The Old Woman Every Cent He Had In His Pocket. He Had

Forgotten Entirely That He Had Been Hungry. A Great World-Wonder Was

Moving Within His Spirit. He Could Not Understand Himself. He Went Back

With Awe Over The Last Few Minutes And The Strange New World Into Which

He Had Been So Suddenly Plunged.

 

Scarcely Noticing How He Went,  He Got Himself Out Of The Intricacies Of

The Court Into A Neighborhood A Shade Less Poverty-Stricken,  And Stood

Upon The Corner Of A Busy Thoroughfare In An Utterly Unfamiliar

District,  Pausing To Look About Him And Discover His Whereabouts.

 

A Little Child With Long,  Fair Hair Rushed Suddenly Out Of A Door On The

Side-Street,  Eagerly Pulling A Ragged Sweater About His Small Shoulders,

And Stood Upon The Curbstone,  Breathlessly Watching The Coming Trolley.

The Car Stopped,  And A Young Girl In Shabby Clothes Got Out And Came

Toward Him.

 

"Bonnie! Bonnie! I've Got Supper All Ready!" The Child Called In A

Clear,  Bird-Like Voice,  And Darted From The Curb Across The Narrow

Side-Street To Meet Her.

 

Courtland,  Standing On The Corner In Front Of The Trolley,  Saw,  Too

Late,  The Swift-Coming Automobile Bearing Down Upon The Child,  Its

Head-Lights Flaring On The Golden Hair. With A Cry The Young Man Sprang

To The Rescue,  But The Child Was Already Crumpled Up Like A Lily And The

Relentless Car Speeding Onward,  Its Chauffeur Darting Frightened,

Cowardly Glances Behind Him As He Plunged His Machine Forward Over The

Track,  Almost In The Teeth Of The Up-Trolley. When The Trolley Was

Passed There Was No Sign Of The Car,  Even If Any One Had Had Time To

Look For It. There In The Road Lay The Little,  Broken Child,  The Long

Hair Spilling Like Gold Over The Pavement,  The Little,  Still,  White Face

Looking Up Like A Flower That Has Suddenly Been Torn From The Plant.

 

The Girl Was Beside The Child Almost Instantly,  Dropping All Her

Parcels; Gathering Him Into Her Slender Arms,  Calling In Frightened,

Tender Tones:

 

"Aleck! Darling! My Little Darling!"

 

The Child Was Too Heavy For Her To Lift,  And She Tottered As She Tried

To Rise,  Lifting A Frightened Face To Courtland.

 

"Let Me Take Him," Said The Young Man,  Stooping And Gathering Him Gently

From Her. "Now Show Me Where!"

 

 

Chapter 5 Pg 31

Into The Narrow Brick House From Which He Had Run Forth So Joyously But

A Few Short Minutes Before,  They Carried Him,  Up Two Flights Of Steep

Stairs To A Tiny Room At The Back Of The Hall.

 

The Gas Was Burning Brightly At One Side,  And Something That Sent Forth

A Savory Odor Was Bubbling On A Little Two-Burner Gas-Stove. Courtland

Was Hungry,  And It Struck His Nostrils Pleasantly As The Door Swung

Open,  Revealing A Tiny Table Covered With A White Cloth,  Set For Two.

There Was A Window Curtained With White,  And A Red Geranium On The Sill.

 

The Girl Entered Ahead Of Him,  Sweeping Back A Bright Chintz Curtain

That Divided The Tiny Room,  And Drew Forth A Child's Cot Bed. Courtland

Gently Laid Down The Little Inert Figure. The Girl Was On Her Knees

Beside The Child At Once,  A Bottle In Her Hand. She Was Dropping A Few

Drops In A Teaspoon And Forcing Them Between The Child's Lips.

 

"Will You Please Get A Doctor,  Quick," She Said,  In A Strained,  Quiet

Voice. "No,  I Don't Know Who; I've Only Been Here Two Weeks. We're

Strangers! Bring Somebody! Anybody! Quick!"

 

Courtland Was Back In A Minute With A Weary,  Seedy-Looking Doctor Who

Just Fitted The Street. All The Way He Was Seeing The Beautiful Agony Of

The Girl's Face. It Was As If Her Suffering Had Been His Own. Somehow He

Could Not Bear To Think What Might Be Coming. The Little Form Had Lain

So Limply In His Arms!

 

The Girl Had Undressed The Child And Put Him Between The Sheets. He Was

More Like A Broken Lily Than Ever. The Long Dark Lashes Lay Still Upon

The Cheeks.

 

Courtland Stood Back In The Doorway,  Looking At The Small Table Set For

Two,  And Pushed To The Wall Now To Make Room For The Cot. There Was Just

Barely Room To Walk Around Between The Things. He Could Almost Hear The

Echo Of That Happy,  Childish Voice Calling Down In The Street: "Bonnie!

Bonnie! I've Got Supper All Ready!"

 

He Wondered If The Girl Had Heard. And There Was The Supper! Two

Blue-And-White Bowls Set Daintily On Two Blue-And-White Plates,

Chapter 5 Pg 32

Obviously For The Something-Hot That Was Cooking Over The Flame,  Two

Bits Of Bread-And-Butter Plates To Match; Two Glasses Of Milk; A Plate

Of Bread,  Another Of Butter; And By Way Of Dessert An Apple Cut In Half,

The Core Dug Out And The Hollow Filled With Sugar. He Took In The

Details Tenderly,  As If They Had Been A Word-Picture By Wells Or Shaw In

His Contemporary-Prose Class At College. They Seemed To Burn Themselves

Into His Memory.

 

"Go Over To My House And Ask My Wife To Give You My Battery!" Commanded

The Doctor In A Low Growl.

 

Courtland Was Off Again,  Glad Of Something To Do. He Carried The Memory

Of The Doctor's Grizzled Face Lying On The Little Bared Breast Of The

Child,  Listening For The Heart-Beats,  And The Beautiful Girl's Anguish

As She Stood Above Them. He Pushed Aside The Curious Throng That Had

Gathered Around The Door And Were Looking Up The Stairs,  Whispering

Dolefully And Shaking Heads:

 

"An' He Was So Purty,  And So Cheery,  Bless His Heart!" Wailed One Woman.

"He Always Had His Bit Of A Word An' A Smile!"

 

"Aw! Them Ottymobbeels!" He Heard Another Murmur. "Ridin' Along In

Their Glory! They'll Be A Day O' Reckonin' Fer Them Rich Folks What

Rides In 'Em! They'll Hev To Walk! They May Even Have To Lie Abed An'

Hev Their Wages Get Behind!"

 

The Whole Weight Of The Sorrow Of The World Seemed Suddenly Pressing

Upon Courtland's Heart. How Had He Been Thus Unexpectedly Taken Out Of

The Pleasant Monotony Of The University And Whirled Into This Vortex Of

Anguish! Why Had It Been? Was It Just Happen That He Should Have Been

The One To Have Gone To The Old Woman And Made Her Toast,  And Then Been

Called Upon To Pray,  Instead Of Tennelly Or Bill Ward Or Any Of The

Other Fellows? And After That Was It Again Just Coincidence That He

Should Have Happened To Stand At That Corner At That Particular Moment

And Been One To Participate In This Later Tragedy? Oh,  The Beautiful

Face Of The Suffering Girl! Fear And Sorrow And Suffering And Death

Everywhere! Wittemore Hurrying To His Dying Mother! The Old Woman Lying

On Her Bed Of Pain! But There Had Been Glory In That Dark Old Room When

He Left It,  The Glory Of A Presence! Ah! Where Was The Presence Now? How

Could _He_ Bear All This? The Christ! And Could He Not Change It If He

Would--Make The World A Happy Place Instead Of This Dark And Dreadful

Thing That It Was? For The First Time The Horror Of War Surged Over His

Soul In Its Blackness. Men Dying In The Trenches! Women Weeping At Home

For Them! Others Suffering And Bleeding To Death Out In The Open,  The

Cold Or The Storm! How Could God Let It All Be? His Wondering Soul Cried

Out,  "Lord,  If Thou Hadst Been Here!"

 

It Was The Old Question That Used To Come Up In The Class-Room,  Yet Now,

Strangely Enough,  He Began To Feel There Was An Answer To It Somewhere;

An Answer Wherewith He Would Be Satisfied When He Found It.

 

It Seemed An Eternity Of Thought Through Which He Passed As He Crossed

And Recrossed The Street And Was Back In The Tiny Room Where Life Waited

On Death. It Was Another Eternity While The Doctor Worked Again Over Th

Chapter 5 Pg 33

The Government Based Its Action Upon The Following Allegations,  Which

Appear To Have Been Substantially Correct: In October Arrangements Were

Made To Convoke A Secret Conference Of Delegates Of The Social Democratic

Organization To Plan For A Revolutionary Uprising. The Police Learned Of

The Plan,  And When At Last,  On November 17th,  The Conference Was Held At

Viborg,  Eight Miles From Petrograd--As The National Capital Was Now

Called--A Detachment Of Police Found Eleven Persons Assembled,  Including

Five Members Of The Imperial Duma,  Messrs. Petrovsky,  Badavev,  Mouranov,

Samoelov,  And Chagov. The Police Arrested Six Persons,  But Did Not Arrest

The Duma Members,  On Account Of Their Parliamentary Position. An Examining

Magistrate,  However,  Indicted The Whole Eleven Who Attended The Conference,

Under Article No. 102 Of The Penal Code,  And Issued Warrants For Their

Arrest. Among Those Arrested Was Kamanev,  One Of Lenine's Closest Friends,

Who Behaved So Badly At His Trial,  Manifesting So Much Cowardice,  That He

Was Censured By His Party.

 

At This Conference,  According To The Government,  Arrangements Were Made To

Circulate Among The Masses A Manifesto Which Declared That "From The

Viewpoint Of The Working Class And Of The Laboring Masses Of All The

Nations Of Russia,  The Defeat Of The Monarchy Of The Czar And Of Its Armies

Would Be Of Extremely Little Consequence." The Manifesto Urged The

Imperative Necessity Of _Carrying On On All Sides The Propaganda Of The

Social Revolution Among The Army And At The Theater Of The War,  And That

Weapons Should Be Directed Not Against Their Brothers,  The Hired Slaves Of

Other Countries,  But Against The Reactionary Bourgeois Governments_. The

Manifesto Went On,  According To The Government,  To Favor The Organization

Of A Similar Propaganda In All Languages,  Among All The Armies,  With The

Aim Of Creating Republics In Russia,  Poland,  Germany,  Austria,  And All

Other European Countries,  These To Be Federated Into A Republican United

Stares Of Europe.

 

The Declaration That The Defeat Of The Russian Armies Would Be "Of

Extremely Little Consequence" To The Workers Became The Key-Note Of The

Anti-War Agitation Of The Bolsheviki. Lenine And Zinoviev,  Still In Exile,

Adopted The View That The Defeat Of Russia Was _Actually Desirable_ From

The Point Of View Of The Russian Working Class. "We Are Russians,  And For

That Very Reason We Want Czarism To Be Defeated," Was The Cry.[3] In His

Paper,  The _Social Democrat_,  Published In Switzerland,  Lenine Advocated

Russian Defeat,  To Be Brought About Through Treachery And Revolt In The

Army,  As The Best Means Of Furthering Revolutionary Progress. The Majority

Chapter 5 Pg 34

Of The Bolshevik Faction Made Common Cause With The Extreme Left-Wing

Socialists Of The Socialist-Revolutionary Party,  Who Shared Their Views And

Became Known As "Porazhentsi"--That Is,  Advocates Of Defeat. Naturally,  The

Charge Was Made That They Were Pro-German,  And It Was Even Charged That

They Were In The Pay Of Germany. Possibly Some Of Them Were,  But It By No

Means Follows That Because They Desired Russia's Defeat They Were Therefore

Consciously Pro-German. They Were Not Pro-German,  But Anti-Czarists. They

Believed Quite Honestly,  Most Of Them,  That Russia's Defeat Was The Surest

And Quickest Way Of Bringing About The Revolution In Russia Which Would

Overthrow Czarism. In Many Respects Their Position Was Quite Like That Of

Those Irish Rebels Who Desired To See England Defeated,  Even Though It

Meant Germany's Triumph,  Not Because Of Any Love For Germany,  But Because

They Hated England And Believed That Her Defeat Would Be Ireland's

Opportunity. However Short-Sighted And Stupid Such A Policy May Be Judged

To Be,  It Is Quite Comprehensible And Should Not Be Misrepresented. It Is A

Remarkable Fact That The Bolsheviki,  While Claiming To Be The Most Radical

And Extreme Internationalists,  Were In Practice The Most Narrow

Nationalists. They Were Exactly As Narrow In Their Nationalism As The

Sinn-Feiners Of Ireland. They Wery Of Looking At The Matter; A Possibility That The

Wicked Old Reprobate Had Yet Something More To Learn Of Life Before He

Went Beyond Its Choices And Opportunities; A Conviction That If He Were

Called To Go He Had Rather Be The Little Child In His Purity Than The

Old Man In His Deviltry.

 

The Sudden Cutting Down Of This Lovely Child Had Startled And Shocked

Him. The Bereavement Of The Girl Cut Him To The Heart As If She Had

Belonged To Him. It Brought The Other World So Close. It Made What Had

Hitherto Seemed The Big Worth-While Things Of Life Look So Small And

Petty,  So Ephemeral! Had He Always Been Giving Himself Utterly To Things

That Did Not Count,  Or Was This A Perspective All Out Of Proportion,  A

Distorted Brain Again,  Through Nervous Strain And Over-Exertion?

 

He Came Presently To A Well-Known Undertaker's,  And,  Stepping In,  Felt

More Than Ever The Borderland-Sense. In This Silent House Of Sadness Men

Stepped Quietly,  Gravely,  Decorously,  And Served You With Courteous

Sympathy. What Was The Name Of The Man Who Rowed His Boat On The River

Styx? Yes! Charon! These Wise-Eyed Grave Men Who Continually Plied Their

Oars Between Two Worlds! How Did They Look On Life? Were They Hardened

To Their Task? Was Their Gentle Gravity All Acting? Did Earthly Things

Appeal To Them? How Could They Bear It All,  This Continual Settled

Sadness About The Place! The Awful Hush! The Tear-Stained Faces! The

Heavy Breath Of Flowers! Not All The Lofty Marble Arches,  And Beauty Of

Surroundings,  Not All The Soft Music Of Hidden Choirs And Distant Organ

Up In One Of The Halls Above Where A Service Was Even Then In Progress,

Could Take Away The Fact Of Death; The Settled,  Final Fact Of Death! One

Moment Here Upon The Curbstone,  Golden Hair Afloat,  Eyes Alight With

Chapter 5 Pg 35

Joyous Greeting,  Voice Of Laughter; The Next Gone,  Irrevocably Gone,

"And The Place Thereof Shall Know It No More," Where Had He Heard Those

Words? Strange,  Sad House Of Death! Strange,  Uncertain Life To Live.

Resurrection! Where Had He Caught That Word In Carven Letters Twined

Among Lilies Above The Marble Staircase? Resurrection! Yes,  There Would

Need To Be If There Was To Be Any Hope Ever In This World!

 

It Was A Strange Duty He Had To Perform,  Strange Indeed For A College

Boy To Whom Death Had Never Come Very Close Since He Had Been Old Enough

To Understand. It Came To Him To Wonder What The Fellows Would Say If

They Could See Him Here. He Felt Half A Grudge Toward Wittemore For

Having Let Him In For All This. Poor Wittemore! By This Time To-Morrow

Night Wittemore Might Be Doing This Same Service For His Own Mother!

 

Death! Death! Death! Everywhere! It Seemed As If Everybody Was Dying!

 

He Made Selections With A Memory Of The Girl's Beautiful,  Refined Face.

He Chose Simple Things And Everything All White. He Asked About Details

And Gave Directions So That Everything Would Move In An Orderly Manner,

With Nothing To Annoy. He Even Thought To Order Flowers,  Valley-Lilies,

And Some Bright Rosebuds,  Not Too Many To Make Her Feel Under

Obligation. He Took Out His Check-Book And Paid For The Whole Thing,

Arranging That The Girl Should Not Know How Much It All Really Cost,  And

That A Small Sum Might Be Paid By Her As She Was Able,  To Be Forwarded

By The Firm To Him; This To Make Her Feel Entirely Comfortable About It

All.

 

As He Went Out Into The Street Again A Great Sense Of Weariness Came

Over Him. He Had Lived--How Many Years Had He Lived!--In Experience

Since He Left The University At Half Past Five O'clock? How Little His

Past Life Looked To Him As He Surveyed It From The Height He Had Just

Climbed. Life! Life Was Not All Basket-Ball,  And Football,  And Dances,

And Fellowships,  And Frats. And Honors! Life Was Full Of Sorrow,  And

Bounded On Every Hand By Death! The Walk From Where He Was Up To The

University Looked Like An Impossibility. There Was A Store Up In The

Next Block Where He Was Known. He Could Get A Check Cashed And Ride.

 

He Found Himself Studying The Faces Of The People In The Car In A New

Light. Were They All Acquainted With Sorrow? Yes,  There Were More Or

Less Lines Of Hardship,  Or Anxiety,  Or Disappointment On All The Older

Faces. And The Younger Ones! Did All Their Bright Smiles And Eagerness

Have To Be Frozen On Their Lips By Grief Some Day? When You Came To

Think Of It Life Was A Terrible Thing! Take That Girl Now,  Miss

Brentwood--Miss R.B. Brentwood The Address Had Been. The Name Her

Brother Had Called Her Fitted Better,  "Bonnie." What Would Life Mean To

Her Now?

 

It Occurred To Him To Wonder If There Would Be Any Such Sorrow And

Emptiness Of Life For Any One If He Were Gone. The Fellows Would Feel

Badly,  Of Course. There Would Be Speeches And Resolutions,  A Lot Of

Black Drapery,  And All That Sort Of Thing In College,  But What Did That

Amount To? His Father? Oh Yes,  Of Course He Would Feel It Some,  But He

Had Been Separated From His Father For Years,  Except For Brief Visits In

Vacations. His Father Had Married A Young Wife And There Were Three

Chapter 5 Pg 36

Young Children. No,  His Father Would Not Miss Him Much!

 

He Swung Off The Car In Front Of The University And Entered The

Dormitory At Last,  Too Engrossed In His Strange New Thoughts To Remember

That He Had Had No Supper.

 

"Hello,  Court! Where The Deuce Have You Been? We've Looked Everywhere

For You. You Didn't Come To The Dining-Hall! What's Wrong With You? Come

In Here!"

 

It Was Tennelly Who Hauled Him Into Bill Ward's Room And Thumped Him

Into A Big Leather Study-Chair.

 

"Why,  Man,  You're All In! Give An Account Of Yourself!" He Said,  Tossing

His Hat Over To Bill Ward,  And Pulling Away At His Mackinaw.

 

"P'raps He's In Love!" Suggested Pat From The Couch Where He Was Puffing

Away At His Pipe.

 

"P'raps He's Flunked His Greek Exam.," Suggested Bill Ward,  With A Grin.

 

"He Looks As If He'd Seen A Ghost!" Said Tennelly,  Eying Him Critically.

 

"Cut It Out,  Boys," Said Courtland,  With A Weary Smile. "I've Seen

Enough. Wittemore's Called Home. His Mother's Dying. I Went An Errand

For Him Down In Some Of His Slums And On The Way Back I Just Saw A

Little Kid Get Killed. Pretty Little Kid,  Too,  With Long Curls!"

 

"_Good Night Nurse!_" Said Pat From His Couch. "Say,  That Is Going

Some!"

 

"Ferget It!" Ejaculated Bill Ward,  Coming To His Feet. "Had Your Supper

Yet,  Court?"

 

Courtland Shook His Head.

 

"Well,  Just You Sit Still There While I Run Down To The Pie-Shop And See

What I Can Get."

 

Bill Seized His Cap And Mackinaw And Went Roaring Off Down The Hall.

Courtland's Eyes Were Closed. He Hadn't Felt So Tired Since He Left The

Hospital. His Mind Was Still Grappling With The Questions That His Last

Two Hours Had Flung At Him To Be Answered.

 

Pat Sat Up And Put Away His Pipe. He Made Silent Motions To Tennelly,

And The Two Picked Up The Unresisting Courtland And Laid Him On The

Couch. Pat's Face Was Unusually Sober As He Gently Put A Pillow Under

His Friend's Head. Courtland Opened His Eyes And Smiled.

 

"Thanks,  Old Man," He Said,  And Gripped His Hand Understandingly. There

Was Something In Pat's Face He Had Never Noticed There Before. As He

Dropped His Eyelids Shut He Had An Odd Sense That Pat And Tennelly And

The Presence Were All Taking Care Of Him. A Sick Fancy Of Worn-Out

Nerves,  Of Course,  But Pleasant All The Same.

 

Down The Hall A Nasal Voice Twanged At The Telephone,  Shouting Each

Answer As Though To Make The Whole Dormitory Hear. Then Loud Steps,  A

Thump On The Door As It Was Flung Open:

 

"Court Here? A Girl On The 'Phone Wants You,  Court. Says Her Name Is

Miss Gila Dare."

 

Chapter 6 Pg 37

The Messenger Had Imitated Gila Dare's Petulant Childish Accent To

Perfection. At Another Time The Three Young Men Would Have Shouted Over

It. Now They Looked At One Another In Silence.

 

"Sha'n't I Go And Get A Message For You,  Court?" Asked Tennelly. For

Courtland's Face Was Ashen Gray,  And The Memory Of It Lying In The

Hospital Was Too Recent For Him Not To Feel Anxious About His Friend. He

Had Only Been Permitted To Return To College So Quickly Under Strict

Orders Not To Overdo.

 

"No,  I Guess I'll Go," Said Courtland,  Indifferently,  Rising As He

Spoke.

 

They Listened Anxiously To His Tones As He Conversed Over The 'Phone.

 

"Hello!... Yes!... Yes!... Oh! Good Evening!... Yes.... Yes....

No-O-O--It Won't Be Possible!... No,  I've Just Come In And I'm Pretty

Well 'All In.' I Have A Lot Of Studying Yet To Do To-Night. This Is

Exam. Week,  You Know.... No,  I'm Afraid Not To-Morrow Night Either....

No,  There Wouldn't Be A Chance Till The End Of The Week,  Anyway.... Why,

Yes,  I Think I Could By That Time,  Perhaps--Friday Night? I'll Let You

Know.... Thank You. Good-By!"

 

The Listeners Looked From One To The Other Knowingly. This Was Not The

Tone Of One Who Had "Fallen" Very Far For A Girl. They Knew The Signs.

He Had Actually Been Indifferent! Gila Dare Had Not Conquered Him So

Easily As Bill Ward Had Thought She Would. And The Strange Thing About

It Was That There Was Something In The Atmosphere That Night That Made

Them Feel They Weren't So Very Sorry. Somehow Courtland Seemed Unusually

Close And Dear To Them Just Then. For The Moment They Seemed To Have

Perceived Something Fine And High In His Mood That Held Them In Awe.

Chapter 6 Pg 38

They Did Not "Kid" Him When He Came Back To Them,  As They Would

Ordinarily Have Done. They Received Him Gravely,  Talking Together About

The Examination On The Morrow,  As If They Had Scarcely Noticed His

Going.

 

Bill Ward Came Back Presently With His Arms Laden With Bundles. He

Looked Keenly At The Tired Face On The Couch,  But Whistled A Merry Tune

To Let On He Had Not Noticed Anything Amiss.

 

"Got A Great Spread This Time," He Declared,  Setting Forth His Spoils On

Two Chairs Alongside The Couch. "Hot Oyster Stew! Sit By,  Fellows! Cooky

Wrapped It Up In Newspapers To Keep It From Getting Cold. There's Bowls

And Spoons In The Basket. Nelly,  Get 'Em Out! Here,  Pat,  Take That

Bundle Out From Under My Arm. That's Celery And Crackers. Here's A Pail

Of Hot Coffee With Cream And Sugar All Mixed. Lookout,  Pat! That's

Jelly-Roll And Chocolate Eclairs! Don't Mash It,  You Chump! Why Didn't

You Come With Me?"

 

It Was Pleasant To Lie There In That Warm,  Comfortable Room With The

Familiar Sights All Around,  The Pennants,  The Pictures,  The Wild

Arrangements Of Photographs And Trophies,  And Hear The Fellows Talking

Of Homely Things; To Be Fed With Food That Made Him Begin To Feel Like

Himself Again; To Have Their Kindly Fellowship All About Him Like A

Protection.

 

They Were Grand Fellows,  Each One Of Them; Full Of Faults,  Too,  But True

At Heart. Life-Friends He Knew,  For There Was A Cord Binding Their Four

Hearts Together With A Little Tenderer Tie Than Bound Them To Any Of

The Other Fellows. They Had Been Together All The Four Years,  And If All

Went Well,  And Bill Ward Didn't Flunk Anything More,  They Would All Four

Go Out Into The World As Men Together At The End Of That Year.

 

He Lay Looking At Them Quietly As They Talked,  Telling Little Foolish

Jokes,  Laughing Immoderately,  Asking One Another Anxiously About A Tough

Question In The Exam. That Morning,  And What The Prospects Were For Good

Marks For Them All. It Was All So Familiar And Beloved! So Different

From Those Last Three Hours Amid Suffering And Sorrow! It Was All So

Natural And Happy,  As If There Were No Sorrow In The World. As If This

Life Would Never End! But He Hadn't Yet Got Over That Feeling Of The

Presence In The Room With Them,  Standing Somewhere Behind Pat And

Tennelly. He Liked To Feel The Consciousness Of It In The Back Of His

Mind. What Would The Fellows Say If He Should Try To Tell Them About It?

They Would Think He Was Crazy. He Had A Feeling That He Would Like To Be

The Means Of Making Them Understand.

 

He Told Them Gradually About Wittemore; Not As He Might Have Told Them

Directly After Seeing Him Off,  Nor Quite As He Had Expected To Tell

Them. It Was A Little More Full; It Gave Them A Little Kinder,  Keener

Insight Into A Character That They Had Hitherto Almost Entirely

Condemned And Ignored. They Did Not Laugh! It Was A Revelation To Them.

They Listened With Respect For The Student Who Had Gone To His Mother's

Dying Bed. They Had All Been Long Enough Away From Their Own Mothers To

Have Come To Feel The Worth Of A Mother Quite Touchingly. Moreover,  They

Chapter 6 Pg 39

Perceived That Courtland Had Seen More In Wittemore Than They Had Ever

Seen. He Had A Side,  It Appeared,  That Was Wholly Unselfish,  Almost

Heroic In A Way. They Had Never Suspected Him Of It Before. His Long,

Horse-Like Face,  With The Little Light China-Blue Eyes Always Anxious

And Startled,  Appeared To Their Imaginations With A New Appeal. When He

Returned They Would Be Kinder To Him.

 

"Poor Old Abner!" Said Tennelly,  Thoughtfully. "Who Would Have Thought

It! Carrying Medicine To An Old Bedridden Crone! And Was Going To Stick

To His Job Even When His Mother Was Dying! He's Got Some Stuff In Him,

After All,  If He Hasn't Much Sense!"

 

Courtland Was Led To Go On Talking About The Old Woman,  Picturing In A

Few Words The Room Where She Lay,  The Pitifully Few Comforts,  The Inch

Of Candle,  The Tea Without Sugar Or Milk,  The Butterless Toast! He Told

It Quite Simply,  Utterly Unaware,  That He Had Told How He Had Made The

Toast. They Listened Without Comment As To One Who Had Been Set Apart To

A Duty Undesirable But Greatly To Be Admired. They Listened As To One

Who Had Passed Through A Great Experience Like Being Shut Up In A Mine

For Days,  Or Passing Unharmed Through A Polar Expedition Or A Lonely

Desert Wandering.

 

Afterward He Spoke Again About The Child,  Telling Briefly How He Was

Killed. He Barely Mentioned The Sister,  And He Told Nothing Whatever Of

His Own Part In It All. They Looked At Him Curiously,  As If They Would

Read Between The Lines,  For They Saw He Was Deeply Stirred,  But They

Asked Nothing. Presently They All Fell To Studying,  Courtland With The

Rest,  For The Morrow's Work Was Important.

 

They Made Him Stay On The Couch And Swung The Light Around Where He

Could See. They Broke Into Song Or Jokes Now And Then As Was Their Wont,

But Over It All Was A Hush And A Quiet Sympathy That Each One Felt,  And

None More Deeply Than Courtland. There Had Never Been A Time During His

College Life When He Had Felt So Keenly And So Finely Bound To His

Companions As This Night; When He Went At Last To His Own Room Across

The Hall,  He Looked About On Its Comforts And Luxuries With A Kind Of

Wonder That He Had Been Selected For All This,  While That Poor Woman

Down In The Tenement Had To Live With Bare Walls And Not Even A Whole

Candle! His Pleasant Room Seemed So Satisfying! And There Was That Girl

Alone In Her Tiny Room With So Little About Her To Make Life Easy,  And

Her Beautiful Dead Lying Stricken Before Her Eyes! He Could Not Get Away

From The Thought Of Her When He Lay Down To Rest,  And In His Dreams Her

Face Of Sorrow Haunted Him.

 

It Was Not Until After The Examinations The Next Afternoon That He

Realized That He Was Going To Her Again; Had Been Going All The Time,

Indeed! Of Course He Had Been But A Passing Stranger,  But She Had No

One,  And He Could Not Let Her Be In Need Of A Friend. Perhaps--Why,  He

Surely _Had_ A Responsibility For Her When He Was The Only One Who Had

Happened By And There Was No One Else!

 

She Opened The Door At His Knock And He Was Startled By The Look Of Her

Face,  So Drawn And White,  With Great Dark Circles Under Her Eyes. She

Had Not Slept Nor Wept Since He Saw Her,  He Felt Sure. How Long Could

Chapter 6 Pg 40

Human Frame Endure Like That? The Strain Was Terrible For One So Young

And Frail. He Found Himself Longing To Take Her Away Somewhere Out Of It

All. Yet,  Of Course,  There Was Nothing He Could Do.

 

She Was Full Of Quiet Gratitude For What He Had Done. She Said She Knew

That Without His Kind Intercession She Would Have Had To Pay Far More.

She Had Been Through It Too Recently Before And Understood That Such

Things Were Expensive. He Rejoiced That She Judged Only By The Standards

Of A Small Country Place,  And Knew Not City Prices,  And Therefore Little

Suspected How Very Much He Had Done To Smooth Her Way. He Told Her Of

The Preacher He Had Secured That Afternoon By Telephone--A Plain,  Kindly

Man Who Had Been Recommended By The Undertaker. She Thanked Him Again,

Apathetically,  As If She Had Not The Heart To Feel Anything Keenly,  But

Was Grateful To Him As Could Be.

 

"Have You Had Anything To Eat To-Day?" He Asked,  Suddenly.

 

She Shook Her Head. "I Could Not Eat! It Would Choke Me!"

 

"But You Must Eat,  You Know," He Said,  Gently,  As If She Were A Little

Child. "You Cannot Bear All This. You Will Break Down."

 

"Oh,  What Does That Matter Now?" She Asked,  Pitifully,  With Her Hand

Fluttering To Her Heart Again And A Wave Of Anguish Passing Over Her

White Face.

 

"But We Must Live,  Mustn't We,  Until We Are Called To Come Away?"

 

He Asked The Question Shyly. He Did Not Understand Where The Thought Or

Words Came From. He Was Not Conscious Of Evolving Them From His Own

Mind.

 

She Looked At Him In Sad Acquiescence. "I Know," She Said,  Like A

Submissive Child; "And I'll Try,  Pretty Soon. But I Can't Just Yet. It

Would Choke Me!"

 

Even While They Were Talking A Door In The Front Of The Hall Opened,  And

An Untidy Person With Unkempt Hair Appeared,  Asking The Girl To Come

Into Her Room And Have A Bite. When She Shook Her Head The Woman Said:

 

"Well,  Then,  Child,  Go Out A Few Minutes And Get Something. You'll Not

Last The Night Through At This Rate! Go,  And I'll Stay Here Until You

Come Back."

 

Courtland Persuaded Her At Last To Come With Him Down To A Little

Restaurant Around The Corner And Have A Cup Of Tea--Just A Cup Of

Tea--And With A Weary Look,  As If She Thought It Was The Quickest Way To

Get Rid Of Their Kindness,  She Yielded. He Thought He Never Would

Forget The Look She Cast Behind Her At The Little,  White,  Sheet-Covered

Cot As She Passed Out The Door.

 

It Was An Odd Experience,  Taking This Stranger To Supper. He Had Met All

Sorts Of Girls During His Young Career And Had Many Different

Experiences,  But None Like This. Yet He Was So Filled With Sympathy And

Chapter 6 Pg 41

Sorrow For Her That It Was Not Embarrassing. She Did Not Seem Like An

Ordinary Girl. She Was Set Apart By Her Sorrow. He Ordered The Daintiest

And Most Attractive That The Plain Menu Of The Little Restaurant

Afforded,  But He Only Succeeded In Getting Her To Eat A Few Mouthfuls

And Drink A Cup Of Tea. Nevertheless It Did Her Good. He Could See A

Faint Color Coming Into Her Cheeks. He Spoke Of College And His

Examinations,  As If She Knew All About Him. He Thought It Might Give Her

A More Secure Feeling If She Knew He Was A Student At The University.

But She Took It All As A Matter That Concerned Her Not In The Least,

With That Air Of Aloofness Of Spirit That Showed Him He Was Not Touching

More Than The Surface Of Her Being. Her Real Self Was Just Bearing It To

Get Rid Of Him And Get Back To Her Sorrow Alone.

 

Before He Left Her He Was Moved To Tell Her How He Had Seen The Little

Child Coming Out To Greet Her. He Thought Perhaps She Had Not Heard

Those Last Joyous Words Of Greeting And Would Want To Know.

 

The Light Leaped Up In Her Face In A Vivid Flame For The First Time,  Her

Eyes Shone With The Tears That Sprang Mercifully Into Them,  And Her Lips

Trembled. She Put Out A Little Cold Hand And Touched His Coat-Sleeve:

 

"Oh,  I Thank You! That Is Precious," She Said,  And,  Turning Aside Her

Head,  She Wept. It Was A Relief To See The Strained Look Break And The

Healing Tears Flow. He Left Her Then,  But He Could Not Get Away From The

Thought Of Her All Night With Her Sorrow Alone. It Was As If He Had To

Bear It With Her Because There Was No One Else To Do So.

 

When He Left Her He Went And Looked Up The Minister With Whom He Had

Made Brief Arrangements Over The Telephone The Night Before. He Had To

Confess To Himself That His Real Object In Coming Had Been To Make Sure

The Man Was "Good Enough For The Job."

 

The Rev. John Burns Was Small,  Sandy,  Homely,  With Kind,  Twinkling

Red-Brown Eyes,  A Wide Mouth,  An Ugly Nose,  And Freckles; But He Had A

Smile That Was Cordiality Itself,  And A Great Big Paw That Gripped A

Real Welcome.

 

Courtland Explained That He Had Come About The Funeral. He Felt

Embarrassed Because There Really Wasn't Anything To Say. He Had Given

All Necessary Details Over The 'Phone,  But The Kind,  Attentive Eyes Were

Sympathetic,  And He Found Himself Telling The Story Of The Tragedy. He

Liked The Way The Minister Received It. It Was The Way A Minister Should

Be To People In Their Need.

 

"You Are A Relative?" Asked Burns As Courtland Got Up To Go.

 

"No." Then He Hesitated. For Some Reason He Could Not Bear To Say He Was

An Utter Stranger To The Lonely Girl. "No,  Only A Friend," He Finished.

"A--A--Kind Of Neighbor!" He Added,  Lamely,  Trying To Explain The

Situation To Himself.

 

"A Sort Of A Christ-Friend,  Perhaps?" The Kind,  Red-Brown Eyes Seemed To

Search Into His Soul And Understand. The Homely,  Freckled Face Lit With

A Rare Smile.

Chapter 6 Pg 42

 

Courtland Gave The Man A Keen,  Hungry Look. He Felt Strangely Drawn To

Him And A Quick Light Of Brotherhood Darted Into His Eyes. His Fingers

Answered The Friendly Grasp Of The Other As They Parted,  And He Went

Out Feeling That Somehow _There_ Was A Man That Was Different; A Man He

Would Like To Know Better And Study Carefully. That Man Must Have Had

Some Experience! He Must Know Christ! Had He Ever Felt The Presence? He

Wondered. He Would Like To Ask Him,  But Then How Would One Go About It

To Talk Of A Thing Like That?

 

He Threw Himself Into His Studies Again When He Got Back To The

University,  But In Spite Of Himself His Mind Kept Wandering Back To

Strange Questions. He Wished Wittemore Would Come Back And Say His

Mother Was Better! It Was Wittemore That Had Started All This Queer

Side-Track Of Philanthropy; That Had Sent Him Off To Make Toast For Old

Women And Manage Funerals For Strange Young Girls. If Wittemore Would

Get Back To His Classes And Plod Off To His Slums Every Day,  With His

Long Horse-Like Face And His Scared Little Apologetic Smile,  Why,

Perhaps His Own Mind Would Assume Its Normal Bent And Let Him Get At His

Work. And With That He Sat Down And Wrote A Letter To Wittemore,  Brief,

Sympathetic,  Inquiring,  Offering Any Help That Might Be Required. When

It Was Finished He Felt Better And Studied Half The Night.

 

He Knew The Next Morning As Soon As He Woke Up That He Would Have To Go

To That Funeral. He Hated Funerals,  And This Would Be A Terrible Ordeal,

He Was Sure. Such A Pitiful Little Funeral,  And He An Utter Stranger,

Too! But The Necessity Presented Itself Like A Command From An Unseen

Force,  And He Knew That It Was Required Of Him--That He Would Never Feel

Quite Satisfied With Himself If He Shirked It.

 

Fortunately His Examination Began At Eight O'clock. If He Worked Fast He

Could Get Done In Plenty Of Time,  For The Hour Of The Funeral Had Been

Set For Eleven O'clock.

 

Tennelly And Pat Stood And Gazed After Him Aghast When,  On Coming Out

Of The Class-Room Where He Had Taken His Examination,  He Declined Their

Suggestion That They All Go Down To The River Skating For An Hour And

Try To Get Their Blood Up After The Strain So They Could Study Better

After Lunch.

 

"I Can't! I'm Going To That Kid's Funeral!" He Said,  And Strode Up The

Stairs With His Arms Full Of Books.

 

"Good Night!" Said Pat,  In Dismay.

 

"Morbid!" Ejaculated Tennelly. "Say,  Pat,  I Don't Guess We Better Let

Him Go. He'll Come Home 'All In' Again."

 

But When They Found Bill Ward And Went Up To Try And Stop Courtland He

Had Departed By The Other Door And Was Half-Way Down The Campus.

Chapter 7 Pg 43

It Was All Very Neat And Beautiful In The Little,  Third-Story Back Room.

The Gas-Stove And Other Things Had Disappeared Behind The Calico

Curtain. Before It Stood The Small White Coffin,  With The Beautiful Boy

Lying As If He Were Asleep,  The Roses Strewn About Him,  And A Mass Of

Valley-Lilies At His Feet. The Girl,  White And Calm,  Sat Beside Him,  One

Hand Resting Across The Casket Protectingly.

 

Three Or Four Women From The House Had Brought In Chairs,  And Some Of

The Neighbors Had Slipped In Shyly,  Half In Sympathy,  Half In Curiosity.

The Minister Was Already There,  Talking In A Low Tone In The Hall With

The Undertaker.

 

The Girl Looked Up When Courtland Entered And Thanked Him For The

Flowers With Her Eyes. The Women Huddled In The Back Of The Room Watched

Him Curiously And Let No Flicker Of An Eyelash Pass Without Notice. They

Were Like Hungry Birds Ready To Pounce On Any Scrap Of Sentiment Or

Suspicion That Might Be Dropped In Their Sight. The Doctor Came Stolidly

In And Went And Stood Beside The Coffin,  Looking Down For A Minute As If

He Were Burning Remedial Incense In His Soul,  And Then Turned Away With

The Frank Tears Running Down His Tired,  Honest Face. He Sat Down Beside

Courtland. The Stillness And The Strangeness In The Bare Room Were

Awful. It Was Only Bearable To Look Toward The Peace In The Small,

White,  Dead Face; For The Calm On The Face Of The Sister Cut One To The

Heart.

 

The Minister And The Undertaker Stepped Into The Room,  And Then It

Seemed To Courtland As If One Other Entered Also. He Did Not Look Up To

See. He Merely Had That Sense Of Another. It Stayed With Him And

Relieved The Tension In The Room.

 

Then The Voice Of The Minister,  Clear,  Gentle,  Ringing,  Triumphant,

Stole Through The Room,  And Out Into The Hall,  Even Down Through The

Landings,  Where Were Huddled Some Of The Neighbors Come To Listen:

 

"And I Heard A Voice From Heaven Saying Unto Me: Write--Blessed Are The

Dead Which Die In The Lord From Henceforth ... But I Would Not Have You

To Be Ignorant,  Brethren,  Concerning Them Which Are Asleep,  That Ye

Sorrow Not,  Even As Others Which Have No Hope. For If We Believe That

Jesus Died And Rose Again,  Even So Them Also Which Sleep In Jesus Will

God Bring With Him.... For The Lord Himself Shall Descend From Heaven

With A Shout,  With The Voice Of The Archangel And With The Trump Of God:

And The Dead In Christ Shall Rise First. Then We Which Are Alive And

Chapter 7 Pg 44

Remain Shall Be Caught Up Together With Them In The Clouds,  To Meet The

Lord In The Air; And So Shall We Ever Be With The Lord. Wherefore

Comfort One Another With These Words."

 

Courtland Listened Attentively. The Words Were Utterly New To Him. If He

Had Heard Them Before On The Few Occasions When He Had Perforce Attended

Funerals,  They Had Never Entered Into His Consciousness. They Seemed

Almost Uncannily To Answer The Desolating Questions Of His Heart. He

Listened With Painful Attention. Most Remarkable Statements!

 

"But Now Is Christ Risen From The Dead And Become The First Fruits Of

Them That Slept!"

 

He Glanced Instinctively Around Where It Seemed That The Presence Had

Entered. He Could Not Get Away From The Feeling That He Stood Just To

The Left Of The Minister There,  With Bowed Head,  Like A Great One Whose

Errand And Presence There Were About To Be Explained. It Was As If He

Had Come To Take The Little Child Away With Him. Courtland Remembered

The Girl's Prayer The Night The Child Died: "Go With Little Aleck And

See That He Is Not Afraid Till He Gets Safe Home." He Glanced Up At Her

Calm,  Tearless Face. She Was Drinking In The Words. They Seemed To Give

Strength Under Her Pitiless Sorrow.

 

"The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed Is Death!"

 

Courtland Heard The Words With A Shock Of Relief. Here Had He Been Under

The Depression Of Death--Death Everywhere And Always! Threatening Every

Life And Every Project Of Earth! And Now This Confident Sentence Looking

Toward A Time When Death Should Be No More! It Came As Something Utterly

New And Original That There Would Be A Time When No One Should,  Ever

Fear Death Again Because Death Would Be Put Out Of Existence! He Had To

Look At It And Face It As Something To Be Recognized And Thought Out,  A

Thing That Was Presenting Itself For Him To Believe; As If The Christ

Himself Were Having It Read Just For Him Alone To Hear; As If Those

Huddled Curious Women And The Tearful Doctor,  And The Calm-Faced Girl

Were Not There At All,  Only Christ And The Little Dead Child Waiting To

Walk Into Another,  Realer Life,  And Courtland,  There On The Threshold Of

Another World To Learn A Great Truth.

 

"But Some Will Say,  How Are The Dead Raised Up? And With What Body Do

They Come?"

 

Courtland Looked Up,  Startled. The Very Thought That Was Dawning In His

Mind! The Child,  Presently To Lie Under The Ground And Return To Dust!

How Could There Be A Resurrection Of That Little Body After Years,

Perhaps? How Could There Be Hope For That Wide-Eyed Sister With The

Sorrowful Soul?

 

"Thou Fool,  That Which Thou Sowest,  Thou Sowest Not That Body That Shall

Be,  But Bare Grain,  It May Chance Of Wheat,  Or Of Some Other Grain."

 

He Listened Through The Wonderful Nature-Picture,  Dimly Understanding

The Reasoning; On To The Words:

Chapter 7 Pg 45

 

"So Also Is The Resurrection Of The Dead. It Is Sown In Corruption,  It

Is Raised In Incorruption; It Is Sown In Dishonor,  It Is Raised In

Glory; It Is Sown In Weakness,  It Is Raised In Power; It Is Sown A

Natural Body,  It Is Raised A Spiritual Body."

 

He Looked At The Child Lying There Among The Lilies,  Those Spirituelle

Blossoms So Ethereal And Perfect That They Almost Seem To Have A Soul.

Was That The Thought,  Then? The Little Child Laid Under The Earth Like

The Bulb Of The Lily,  To See Corruption And Decay,  Would Come Forth,

Even As The Spirit Of The Lilies Came Up Out Of The Darkness And Mold

And Decay Of Their Tomb Under-Ground,  And Burst Into The Glory Of Their

Beautiful Blossoms,  The Perfection Of What The Ugly Brown Bulb Was Meant

To Be. All The Possibilities Come To Perfection! No Accident Or Stain Of

Sin To Mar The Glorified Character! A Perfect Soul In A Perfect,

Glorified Body!

 

The Wonder Of The Thought Swelled Within Him,  And Sent A Thrill Through

Him With The Minister's Voice As He Read:

 

"So When This Corruptible Shall Have Put On Incorruption,  And This

Mortal Shall Have Put On Immortality,  Then Shall Be Brought To Pass The

Saying That Is Written: Death Is Swallowed Up In Victory. O Death Where

Is Thy Sting? O Grave,  Where Is Thy Victory? Thanks Be To God,  Which

Giveth Us The Victory Through Our Lord Jesus Christ!"

 

If Courtland Had Been Asked Before He Came There Whether He Believed In

A Resurrection He Might Have Given A Doubtful Answer. During The Four

Years Of His College Life He Had Passed Through Various Stages Of

Unbelief Along With A Good Many Of His Fellow-Students. With Them He Had

Made Out A Sort Of Philosophy Of Life Which He Supposed He Believed. It

Was Founded Partly Upon What He _Wanted_ To Believe And Partly Upon What

He Could _Not_ Believe,  Because He Had Never Been Able To Reason It Out.

Up To This Time Even His Experience With The Presence Had Not Touched

This Philosophy Of His Which He Had Constructed Like A Fancy Scaffolding

Inside Of Which He Expected To Fashion His Life. The Presence And His

Partial Surrender To Its Influence Had Been A Matter Of The Heart,  And

Until Now It Had Not Occurred To Him That His Allegiance To The Christ

Was Incompatible With His Former Philosophy. The Doctrine Of The

Resurrection Suddenly Stood Before Him As Something That Must Be

Accepted Along With The Christ,  Or The Christ Was Not The Christ! Christ

_Was_ The Resurrection If He Was At All! Christ _Had_ To Be That,  _Had_

To Have Conquered Death,  Or He Would Not Have Been The Christ; He Would

Not Have Been God Humanized For The Understanding Of Men Unless He Could

Do God-Like Things. He Was Not God If He Could Not Conquer Death. He

Would Not Be A Man's Christ If He Could Not Come To Man In His Darkest

Hour And Conquer His Greatest Enemy; Put Himself Up Against Death And

Come Out Victorious!

 

A Great Fact Had Been Revealed To Courtland: There Was A Resurrection Of

The Dead,  And Christ Was The Hope Of That Resurrection! It Was As If He

Had Just Met Christ Face To Face And Heard Him Say So; Had It All

Explained To Him Fully And Satisfactorily. He Doubted If He Could Tell

The Professor In The Biblical Literature Class How,  Because Perhaps _He_

Chapter 7 Pg 46

Hadn't Seen The Christ That Way; But Others Understood! That White,

Strained Face Of The Girl Was Not Hopeless. There Was The Light Of A

Great Hope In Her Eyes; They Could See Afar Off Over The Loneliness Of

The Yed By Varying The Combinations And Proportions Of These

Fifty. We Have Seen How Quickly Elements Formerly Known Only To

Chemists--And To Some Of Them Known Only By Name--Have Become

Indispensable In Our Daily Life. Any One Of Those Still Unutilized May

Be Found To Have Peculiar Properties That Fit It For Filling A Long

Unfelt Want In Modern Civilization.

 

Who,  For Instance,  Will Find A Use For Gallium,  The Metal Of France? It

Was Described In 1869 By Mendeleef In Advance Of Its Advent And Has Been

Known In Person Since 1875,  But Has Not Yet Been Set To Work. It Is

Such A Remarkable Metal That It Must Be Good For Something. If You Saw

It In A Museum Case On A Cold Day You Might Take It To Be A Piece Of

Aluminum,  But If The Curator Let You Hold It In Your Hand--Which He

Won't--It Would Melt And Run Over The Floor Like Mercury. The Melting

Point Is 87 Deg. Fahr. It Might Be Used In Thermometers For Measuring

Temperatures Above The Boiling Point Of Mercury Were It Not For The

Peculiar Fact That Gallium Wets Glass So It Sticks To The Side Of The

Tube Instead Of Forming A Clear Convex Curve On Top Like Mercury.

 

Then There Is Columbium,  The American Metal. It Is Strange That An

Element Named After Columbia Should Prove So Impractical. Columbium Is A

Metal Closely Resembling Tantalum And Tantalum Found A Use As Electric

Light Filaments. A Columbium Lamp Should Appeal To Our Patriotism.

 

The So-Called "Rare Elements" Are Really Abundant Enough Considering The

Earth's Crust As A Whole,  Though They Are So Thinly Scattered That They

Are Usually Overlooked And Hard To Extract. But Whenever One Of Them Is

Found Valuable It Is Soon Found Available. A Systematic Search Generally

Reveals It Somewhere In Sufficient Quantity To Be Worked. Who,  Then,

Will Be The First To Discover A Use For Indium,  Germanium,  Terbium,

Thulium,  Lanthanum,  Neodymium,  Scandium,  Samarium And Others As Unknown

To Us As Tungsten Was To Our Fathers?

 

As Evidence Of The Statement That It Does Not Matter How Rare An Element

May Be It Will Come Into Common Use If It Is Found To Be Commonly

Useful,  We May Refer To Radium. A Good Rich Specimen Of Radium Ore,

Pitchblende,  May Contain As Much,  As One Part In 4,000,000. Madame

Curie,  The Brilliant Polish Parisian,  Had To Work For Years Before She

Could Prove To The World That Such An Element Existed And For Years

Afterwards Before She Could Get The Metal Out. Yet Now We Can All Afford

A Bit Of Radium To Light Up Our Watch Dials In The Dark. The Amount

Needed For This Is Infinitesimal. If It Were More It Would Scorch Our

Skins,  For Radium Is An Element In Eruption. The Atom Throws Off

Corpuscles At Intervals As A Roman Candle Throws Off Blazing Balls. Some

Of These Particles,  The Alpha Rays,  Are Atoms Of Another Element,

Helium,  Charged With Positive Electricity And Are Ejected With A

Velocity Of 18,000 Miles A Second. Some Of Them,  The Beta Rays,  Are

Negative Electrons,  Only About One Seven-Thousandth The Size Of The

Others,  But Are Ejected With Almost The Speed Of Light,  186,000 Miles A

Second. If One Of The Alpha Projectiles Strikes A Slice Of Zinc Sulfide

Chapter 7 Pg 47

It Makes A Splash Of Light Big Enough To Be Seen With A Microscope,  So

We Can Now Follow The Flight Of A Single Atom. The Luminous Watch Dials

Consist Of A Coating Of Zinc Sulfide Under Continual Bombardment By The

Radium Projectiles. Sir William Crookes Invented This Radium Light

Apparatus And Called It A "Spinthariscope," Which Is Greek For

"Spark-Seer."

 

Evidently If Radium Is So Wasteful Of Its Substance It Cannot Last

Forever Nor Could It Have Forever Existed. The Elements Then Ate Not

Necessarily Eternal And Immutable,  As Used To Be Supposed. They Have A

Natural Length Of Life; They Are Born And Die And Propagate,  At Least

Some Of Them Do. Radium,  For Instance,  Is The Offspring Of Ionium,

Which Is The Great-Great-Grandson Of Uranium,  The Heaviest Of Known

Elements. Putting This Chemical Genealogy Into Biblical Language We

Might Say: Uranium Lived 5,000,000,000 Years And Begot Uranium X1,  Whietween Her Set Lips. He Was

Relieved When At Last The Carriage Stopped Again And He Recognized The

Stone Buildings Of One Of The City's Great Hospitals.

 

 

 

Chapter 8 Pg 48

 

When Courtland Got Back To The University The Afternoon Examination Had

Been In Progress Almost Half An Hour. With A Brief Explanation To The

Professor,  He Settled To His Belated Work Regardless Of Bill Ward's

Anxious Glances From The Back Of The Room And Pat's Lifted Eyebrows From

The Other Side. He Knew He Had Yet To Meet Those Three Beloved

Antagonists. He Seemed To Have Progressed Through Eons Of Experience

Since He Talked With Them Last Night. The Intricate Questions Of The

Examination On Political Science Over Which He Was Trying Faithfully To

Work Seemed Paltry Beside The Great Facts Of Life And Death.

 

He Had Remained At The Hospital Until The Girl Came Out Of Her Long

Swoon And The Doctor Said She Was Better,  But The Thought Of Her White

Face Was Continually Before Him. When He Closed His Eyes For A Moment To

Think How To Phrase Some Answer In His Paper He Would See That Still,

Beautiful Face As It Lay On His Shoulder In The Carriage. It Had Filled

Him With Awe To Think That He,  A Stranger,  Was Her Only Friend In That

Great City,  And She Might Be Dying! Somehow He Could Not Cast Her Off As

A Common Stranger.

 

He Had Arranged That She Should Be Placed In A Small Private Room At A

Moderate Cost,  And Paid For A Week In Advance. The Cost Was A Mere

Chapter 8 Pg 49

Trifle To Courtland. The New Overcoat He Had Meant To Buy This Week

Would More Than Cover The Cost. Besides,  If He Needed More Than His

Ample Allowance His Father Was Always Quite Ready To Advance What He

Wanted. But The Strange Thing About All This Was That,  Having Paid To

Put The Girl Where She Would Be Perfectly Comfortable And Be Well Taken

Care Of,  He Could Not Cast Her Off And Forget Her. His Responsibility

Seemed To Be Doubled With Everything He Did For Her. Between The

Problems Of Deep State Perplexities And Intrigues Was Ever The

Perplexity About That Girl And How She Was Going To Live All Alone With

Her Tragedy--Or Tragedies--For It Was Apparent From The Little Hints She

Had Dropped That The Death Of The Small Brother Was Only The Climax Of

Quite A Series Of Sorrows That Had Come To Her Young Life. And Yet She,

With All That Sorrow Compassing Her About,  Could Still Believe In The

Christ And Call Upon Him In Her Trouble! There Was A Kind Of Triumphant

Feeling In His Heart When He Reached That Conclusion.

 

He Lay On The Couch In Tennelly's Room That Night After Supper And Tried

To Think It Out,  While The Other Three Clattered Away About Their Marks

And Held An Indignation Meeting Over The Way Pat Was Getting

Black-Listed By All The Professors Just When He Was Trying So Hard. He

Didn't Know The Fellows Were Keeping It Up To Get His Mind Away From The

Funeral. He Was Thinking About That Girl.

 

The Doctor Had Told Him That She Was Very Much Run Down. It Looked As If

The Process Had Been Going On For Some Time. Her Heart Action Was Not

All It Should Be,  And There Were Symptoms Of Lack Of Nutrition. What She

Needed Was Rest,  Utter Rest. Sleep If Possible Most Of The Time For At

Least A Week,  With,  Careful Feeding Every Two Or Three Hours,  And After

That A Quiet,  Cheerful Place With Plenty Of Fresh Air And Sunshine And

More Sleep; No Anxiety,  And Nothing To Call On The Exhausted Energies

For Action Or Hurry.

 

Now How Was A State Of Things Like That To Be Brought About For A Person

Who Had No Home,  No Friends,  No Money,  And No Time To Lie Idle?

Moreover,  How Could There Be Any Cheerful Spot In The Wide World For A

Little Girl Who Had Passed Through The Fire As She Had Done?

 

Presently He Went Out To The Drug-Store And Telephoned To The Hospital.

They Said She Had Had Only One More Slight Turn Of Unconsciousness,  But

Had Rallied From It Quickly And Was Resting Quietly Now. They Hoped She

Would Have A Good Night.

 

Then He Went Back To His Room And Thought About Her Some More. He Had An

Important English Examination The Next Day,  One In Which He Especially

Wanted To Do Well; Yet Try As He Would To Concentrate On Wells And Shaw,

That Girl And What Was Going To Become Of Her Would Get In Between Him

And His Book.

 

It Was After Ten O'clock When He Sauntered Down The Hall And Stood In

Stephen Marshall's Room For A Few Minutes,  As He Was Getting The Habit

Of Doing Every Night. The Peace Of It And The Uplift That That Room

Always Gave Him Were Soothing To His Soul. If He Had Known A Little More

About The Christ To Whose Allegiance He Had Declared Himself He Might

Have Knelt And Asked For Guidance; But As Yet He Had Not So Much As

Chapter 8 Pg 50

Heard Of A Promise To The Man Who "Abides," And "Asks What He Will."

Nevertheless,  When He Entered That Room His Mind Took On The Attitude Of

Prayer And He Felt That Somehow The Presence Got Close To Him,  So That

Questions That Had Perplexed Him Were Made Clear.

 

As He Stood That Night Looking About The Plain Walls,  His Eyes Fell Upon

That Picture Of Stephen Marshall's Mother. A Mother! Ah! If There Were A

Mother Somewhere To Whom That Girl Could Go! Some One Who Would

Understand Her; Be Gentle And Tender With Her; Love Her,  As He Should

Think A Real Mother Would Do--What A Difference That Would Make!

 

He Began To Think Over All The Women He Knew--All The Mothers. There

Were Not So Many Of Them. Some Of The Professors' Wives Who Had Sons And

Daughters Of Their Own? Well,  They Might Be All Well Enough For Their

Own Sons And Daughters,  But There Wasn't One Who Seemed Likely To Want

To Behave In A Very Motherly Way To A Stranger Like His Waif Of A Girl.

They Were Nice To The Students,  Polite And Kind To The Extent Of One Tea

Or Reception Apiece A Year,  But That Was About The Limit.

 

Well,  There Was Tennelly's Mother! Dignified,  White-Haired,  Beautiful,

Dominant In Her Home And Clubs,  Charming To Her Guests; But--He Could

Just Fancy How She Would Raise Her Lorgnette And Look "Bonnie" Brentwood

Over. There Would Be No Room In That Grand House For A Girl Like Bonnie.

Bonnie! How The Name Suited Her! He Had A Strange Protective Feeling

About That Girl,  Not As If She Were Like The Other Girls He Knew;

Perhaps It Was A Sort Of A "Christ-Brother" Feeling,  As The Minister Had

Suggested. But To Go On With The List Of Mothers--Wasn't There One

Anywhere To Whom He Could Appeal? Gila's Mother? Pah! That Painted,

Purple Image Of A Mother! Her Own Daughter Needed To Find A Real Mother

Somewhere. She Couldn't Mother A Stranger! Mothers! Why Weren't There

Enough Real Ones To Go Around? If He Had Only Had A Mother,  A Real One,

Himself,  Who Had Lived,  She Would Have Been One To Whom He Could Have

Told Bonnie's Story,  And She Would Have Understood!

 

He Looked Into The Pictured Eyes On The Wall And An Idea Came To Him. It

Was Like An Answer To Prayer. Stephen Marshall's Mother! Why Hadn't He

Thought Of Her Before? She Was That Kind Of A Mother Of Course,  Or

Stephen Marshall Would Not Have Been The Man He Was! If The Bonnie Girl

Could Only Get To Her For A Little While! But Would She Take Her? Would

She Understand? Or Might She Be Too Overcome With Her Own Loss To Have

Been Able To Rally To Life Again? He Looked Into The Strong Motherly

Face And Was Sure _Not_.

 

He Would Write To Her. He Would Put It To The Test Whether There Was A

Mother In The World Or Not. He Went Back To His Room,  And Wrote Her A

Long Letter,  Red-Hot From The Depths Of His Heart; A Letter Such As He

Might Have Written To His Own Mother If He Had Ever Known Her,  But Such

As Certainly He Had Never Written To Any Woman Before. He Wrote:

 

     Dear Mother Of Stephen Marshall:

 

     I Know You Are A Real Mother Because Stephen Was What He

     Was. And Now I Am Going To Let You Prove It By Coming To You

     With Something That Needs A Mother's Help.

Chapter 8 Pg 51

     There Is A Little Girl--I Should Think She Must Be About

     Nineteen Or Twenty Years Old--Lying In The Hospital,  Worn

     Out With Hard Work And Sorrow. She Has Recently Lost Her

     Father And Mother,  And Had Brought Her Little Five-Year-Old

     Brother To The City A Couple Of Weeks Ago. They Were Living

     In A Very Small Room,  Boarding Themselves,  She Working All

     Day Somewhere Down-Town. Two Days Ago,  As She Was Coming

     Home In The Trolley,  Her Little Brother,  Crossing The Street

     To Meet Her,  Was Knocked Down And Killed By A Passing

     Automobile. We Buried Him To-Day,  And The Girl Fainted Dead

     Away On The Way Back From The Cemetery And Only Recovered

     Consciousness When We Got Her To The Hospital. The Doctor

     Says She Has Exhausted Her Vitality And Needs To Sleep For A

     Week And Be Fed Up; And Then She Ought To Go To Some

     Cheerful Place Where She Can Just Rest For A While And Have

     Fresh Air And Sunshine And Good,  Plain,  Nourishing Food.

 

     Now She Hasn't A Friend In The City. I Know From The Few

     Little Things She Has Told Me That There Isn't Any One In

     The World She Will Feel Free To Turn To. She Isn't The Kind

     Of Girl Who Will Accept Charity. She's Refined,  Reserved,

     Independent,  And All That,  You Know. There's Another Thing,

     Too--She Prays To Your Stephen's Christ--That's Why I Dared

     Write To You About It.

 

     You See,  I'm An Entire Stranger To Her. I Just Happened

     Along When The Kid Was Killed And Had To Stick Around And

     Help; That's How I Came To Know. Of Course She Hasn't Any

     Idea Of All This,  And I Haven't Any Real Business With It,

     But I Can't See Leaving Her In A Hole This Way; And There's

     No One Else To Do Anything.

 

     You Wonder Why I Didn't Find A Mother Nearer By,  But I

     Haven't Any Living Of My Own,  Except A Stepmother,  Who

     Wouldn't Understand,  And All The Other Mothers I Know

     Wouldn't Qualify For The Job Any Better. I've Been Looking

     At Your Picture And I Think You Would.

 

     What I Thought Of Is This (If It Doesn't Strike You That Way

     Maybe You Can Think Of Some Other Way): I'm Pretty Well

     Fixed For Money,  And I've Got A Lump That I've Been

     Intending To Use For A New Automobile; But My Old Car Is

     Plenty Good Enough For Another Year,  And I'd Like To Pay

     That Girl's Board Awhile Till She Gets Rested And Strong And

     Sort Of Cheered Up. I Thought Perhaps You'd See Your Way

     Clear To Write A Letter And Say You'd Like Her To Visit

     You--You're Lonesome Or Something. I Don't Know How A Real

     Mother Would Fix That Up,  But I Guess You Do.

 

     Of Course The Girl Mustn't Know I Have A Thing To Do With It

     Except That I Told You About Her. She'd Be Up In The Air In

     A Minute. She Wouldn't Stand For Me Doing Anything For Her.

     She's That Kind.

Chapter 8 Pg 52

     I'm Sending A Check Of Two Hundred Dollars Right Now Because

     I Thought,  In Case You See A Way To Take Up With My

     Suggestion,  You Might Send Her Money Enough For The Journey.

     I Don't Believe She's Got Any. We Can Fix It Up About The

     Board Any Way You Say. Don't Hesitate To Tell Me Just How

     Much It Is Worth. I Don't Need The Money For Anything. But

     Whatever's Done Has Got To Be Done Mighty Quick Or She'll Go

     Back To Work Again,  And She Won't Last Three Days If She

     Does. She Looks As If A Breath Would Blow Her Away. I'm

     Sending This Special Delivery To Hurry Things. Her Address

     Is Miss R.B. Brentwood,  Good Samaritan Hospital. The Kid

     Called Her "Bonnie." I Don't Know What Her Whole Name Is.

 

     So Now You Have The Whole Story,  And It's Up To You To

     Decide. Maybe You Think I've Got A Lot Of Crust To Propose

     This,  And Maybe You Won't See It This Way,  But I've Had The

     Nerve Because Stephen Marshall's Life And Stephen Marshall's

     Death Have Made Me Believe In Stephen Marshall's Christ And

     Stephen Marshall's Mother.

 

                           I Am,  Very Respectfully,

                                              Paul Courtland.

 

 

 

 

He Mailed The Letter That Night And Then Studied Hard Till Three O'clock

In The Morning.

 

The Next Morning's Mail Brought Him A Dainty Little Note From Gila's

Mother,  Inviting Him To A Quiet Family Dinner With Them On Friday

Evening. He Frowned When He Read It. He Didn't Care For The Large,

Painted Person,  But Perhaps There Was More Good In Her Than He Knew. He

Would Have To Go And Find Out. It Might Even Be That She Would Be A Help

In Case Stephen Marshall's Mother Did Not Pan Out.

Chapter 9 Pg 53

Mother Marshall Stood By The Kitchen Window,  With Her Cheek Against A

Boy's Old Soft Felt Hat,  And She Looked Out Into The Gathering Dusk For

Father. The Hat Was So Old And Worn That Its Original Shape And Color

Chapter 9 Pg 54

Were Scarcely Distinguishable,  And There Was One Spot Where Mother

Marshall's Tears Had Washed Some Of The Grime Away Into Deeper Stains

About It. It Was Only On Days When Father Was Off To Town On Errands

That She Allowed Herself The Momentary Weakness Of Tears.

 

So She Had Stood In Former Years Looking Out Into The Dusk For Her Son

To Come Whistling Home From School. So She Had Stood The Day The Awful

News Of His Fiery Death Had Come,  While Father Sat In His Rush-Bottomed

Chair And Groaned. She Had Laid Her Cheek Against That Old Felt Hat And

Comforted Herself With The Thought Of Her Boy,  Her Splendid Boy,  Who Had

Lived His Short Life So Intensely And Wonderfully. When She Felt That

Old Scratchy Felt Against Her Cheek It Somehow Brought Back The Memory

Of His Strong Young Shoulder,  Where She Used To Lay Her Head Sometimes

When She Felt Tired And He Would Fold Her In His Arms And Brush Her

Forehead With His Lips And Pat Her Shoulder. The Neighbors Sometimes

Wondered Why She Kept That Old Felt Hat Hanging There,  Just As When

Stephen Was Alive Among Them,  But Mother Marshall Never Said Anything

About It; She Just Kept It There,  And It Comforted Her To Feel It; One

Of Those Little Homely,  Tangible Things That Our Poor Souls Have To

Tether To Sometimes When We Lose The Vision And Get Faint-Hearted.

Mother Marshall Wasn't Morbid One Bit. She Always Looked On The Bright

Side Of Everything; And She Had Had Much Joy In Her Son As He Was

Growing Up. She Had Seen Him Strong Of Body,  Strong Of Soul,  Keen Of

Mind. He Had Won The Scholarship Of The Whole Northwest To The Big

Eastern University. It Had Been Hard To Pack Him Up And Have Him Go Away

So Far,  Where She Couldn't Hope To See Him Soon,  Where She Couldn't

Listen For His Whistle Coming Home At Night,  Where He Couldn't Even Come

Back For Sunday And Sit In The Old Pew In Church With Them. But Those

Things Had To Come. It Was The Only Way He Could Grow And Fulfil His

Part Of God's Plan. And So She Put Away Her Tears Till He Was Gone,  And

Kept Them For The Old Felt Hat When Father Was Out About The Farm. And

Then When The News Came That Stephen Had Graduated So Soon,  Gone Up

Higher To God's Eternal University To Live And Work Among The Great,

Even Then Her Soul Had Been Big Enough To See The Glory Of It Behind The

Sorrow,  And Say With Trembling,  Conquering Lips: "I Shall Go To Him,  But

He Shall Not Return To Me. The Lord Gave,  And The Lord Hath Taken Away.

Blessed Be The Name Of The Lord!"

 

That Was The Kind Of Nerve That Blessed Little Mother Marshall Was Built

With,  And It Was Only In Such Times As These,  When Father Had Gone To

Town And Stayed A Little Later Than Usual,  That The Tears In Her Heart

Got The Better Of Her And She Laid Her Face Against The Old Felt Hat.

 

Down The Road In The Gloom Moved A Dark Speck. It Couldn't Be Father,

For He Had Gone In The Machine--The Nice,  Comfortable Little Car That

Stephen Had Made Them Get Before He Went Away To College,  Because He

Said That Father Needed To Have Things Easier Now. Father Would Be In

The Machine,  And By This Time The Lights Would Be Lit. Father Was Very

Careful Always About Lighting Up When It Grew Dusk. He Had A Great

Horror Of Accidents To Other People. Not That He Was Afraid For Himself,

No Indeed. Father Was A _Man_! The Kind Of A Man To Be The Father Of A

Stephen!

 

Chapter 9 Pg 55

The Speck Grew Larger. It Made A Chugging Noise. It Was One Of Those

Horrible Motor-Cycles. Mother Marshall Hated Them,  Though She Had Never

Revealedential Oils And Artificial

Perfumes," 1918 Edition. "Chemistry And Odoriferous Bodies Since 1914"

By G. Satie In _Chemie Et Industrie_,  Vol. Ii,  P. 271,  393. "Odor And

Chemical Constitution," _Chemical Abstracts_,  1917,  P. 3171 And _Journal

Of Society For Chemical Industry_,  V. 36,  P. 942.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Vi

 

The Bulletin On "By-Products Of The Lumber Industry" By H.K. Benson

(Published By Department Of Commerce,  Washington,  10 Cents) Contains A

Description Of Paper-Making And Wood Distillation. There Is A Good

Article On Cellulose Products By H.S. Mork In _Journal Of The Franklin

Institute_,  September,  1917,  And In _Paper_,  September 26,  1917. The

Government Forest Products Laboratory At Madison,  Wisconsin,  Publishes

Technical Papers On Distillation Of Wood,  Etc. The Forest Service Of The

U.S. Department Of Agriculture Is The Chief Source Of Information On

Forestry. The Standard Authority Is Cross And Bevans' "Cellulose." For

The Acetates See The Eighth Volume Of Worden's "Technology Of The

Cellulose Esters."

 

 

 

 

Chapter Vii

 

The Speeches Made When Hyatt Was Awarded The Perkin Medal By The

American Chemical Society For The Discovery Of Celluloid May Be Found In

The _Journal Of The Society Of Chemical Industry_ For 1914,  P. 225. In

1916 Baekeland Received The Same Medal,  And The Proceedings Are Reported

In The Same _Journal_,  V. 35,  P. 285.

 

A Comprehensive Technical Paper With Bibliography On "Synthetic Resins"

By L.V. Redman Appeared In The _Journal Of Industrial And Engineering

Chemistry_,  January,  1914. The Controversy Over Patent Rights May Be

Followed In The Same _Journal_,  V. 8 (1915),  P. 1171,  And V. 9 (1916),

P. 207. The "Effects Of Heat On Celluloid" Have Been Examined By The

Bureau Of Standards,  Washington (Technological Paper No. 98),  Abstract

In _Scientific American Supplement_,  June 29,  1918.

 

For Casein See Tague's Article In Rogers' "Industrial Chemistry" (Van

Nostrand). See Also Worden's "Nitrocellulose Industry" And "Technology

Of The Cellulose Esters" (Van Nostrand); Hodgson's "Celluloid" And Cross

And Bevan's "Cellulose."

 

For References To Recent Research And New Patent Specifications On

Artificial Plastics,  Resins,  Rubber,  Leather,  Wood,  Etc.,  See The

Current Numbers Of _Chemical Abstracts_ (Easton,  Pa.) And Such Journals

As The _India Rubber Journal,  Paper,  Textile World,  Leather World_ And

_Journal Of American Leather Chemical Association._

Chapter 9 Pg 56

 

The General Bakelite Company,  New York,  The Redmanol Products Company,

Chicago,  The Condensite Company,  Bloomfield,  N.J.,  The Arlington

Company,  New York (Handling Pyralin),  Give Out Advertising Literature

Regarding Their Respective Products.

 

 

Chapter 10 Pg 57

Sir William Tilden's "Chemical Discovery And Invention In The Twentieth

Century" (E.P. Dutton & Co.) Contains A Readable Chapter On Rubber With

References To His Own Discovery. The "Wonder Book Of Rubber," Issued By

The B.F. Goodrich Rubber Company,  Akron,  Ohio,  Gives An Interesting

Account Of Their Industry. Iles: "Leading American Inventors" (Henry

Holt & Co.) Contains A Life Of Goodyear,  The Discoverer Of

Vulcanization. Potts: "Chemistry Of The Rubber Industry,  1912." The

Rubber Industry: Report Of The International Rubber Congress,  1914.

Pond: "Review Of Pioneer Work In Rubber Synthesis" In _Journal Of The

American Chemical Society_,  1914. Bang: "Synthetic Rubber" In

_Metallurgical And Chemical Engineering_,  May 1,  1917. Castellan:

"L'industrie Caoutchouciere," Doctor's Thesis,  University Of Paris,

1915. The _India Rubber World_,  New York,  All Numbers,  Especially "What

I Saw In The Philippines," By The Editor,  1917. Pearson: "Production Of

Guayule Rubber," _Commerce Reports_,  1918,  And _India Rubber World_,

1919. "Historical Sketch Of Chemistry Of Rubber" By S.C. Bradford In

Chapter 11 Pg 58

"The Cane Sugar Industry" (Bulletin No. 53,  Miscellaneous Series,

Department Of Commerce,  50 Cents) Gives Agricultural And Manufacturing

Costs In Hawaii,  Porto Rico,  Louisiana And Cuba.

 

"Sugar And Its Value As FN,  The Same Principles To Go By. So When,

After She Had Passed The Hot Johnny-Cake,  Seen To It That Father Had The

Biggest Pork Chop And The Mealiest Potato,  And Given Him His Cup Of

Coffee Creamed And Sugared Just Right,  Mother Got Out The Letter With

The University Crest And Began To Read. She Had No Fears That Father

Would Not Agree With Her About It. She Read Eagerly,  Sure Of His

Sympathy In Her Pleasure; Sure He Would Think It Was Nice Of Stephen's

Friend To Write To Her And Pick Her Out As A Real Mother,  Saying All

Those Pleasant Things About Her; Sure He Would Be Proud That She,  With

All The Women They Had In The East,  Should Have So Brought Up A Boy That

Chapter 11 Pg 59

A Stranger Knew She Was A Real Mother. She Had No Fear That Father Would

Frown And Declare They Couldn't Be Bothered With A Stranger Around,  That

It Would Cost A Lot And Mother Needed To Rest. She Knew He Would Be

Touched At Once With The Poor,  Lonely Girl's Position,  And Want To Do

Anything In His Power To Help Her. She Knew He Would Be Ready To Fall

Right In With Anything She Should Suggest. And,  True To Her Conviction,

Father's Eyes Lighted With Tenderness As She Read,  Watched Her Proudly

And Nodded In Strong Affirmation At The Phrases Touching Her Ability As

Mother.

 

"That's Right,  Mother,  You'll Qualify For A Job As Mother Better 'N Any

Woman I Ever Saw!" Said Father,  Heartily,  As He Reached For Another

Helping Of Butter.

 

His Face Kindled With Interest As The Letter Went On With Its

Proposition,  But He Shook His Head When It Came To The Money Part,

Interrupting Her:

 

"I Don't Like That Idea,  Mother; We Don't Keep Boarders,  And We're

Plenty Able To Invite Company For As Long As We Like. Besides,  It Don't

Seem Just The Right Thing For That Young Feller To Be Paying Her Board.

She Wouldn't Like It If She Knew It. If She Was Our Daughter We Wouldn't

Want Her To Be Put In That Position,  Though It's Very Kind Of Him Of

Course--"

 

"Of Course!" Said Mother,  Breathlessly. "He Couldn't Very Well Ask Us,

You Know,  Without Saying Something Like That,  Especially As He Doesn't

Know Us,  Except By Hearsay,  At All."

 

"Of Course," Agreed Father; "But Then,  Equally Of Course We Won't Let It

Stand That Way. You Can Send That Young Feller Back His Check,  And Tell

Him To Get His New Ottymobeel. He Won't Be Young But Once,  And I Reckon

A Young Feller Of That Kind Won't Get Any Harm From His Ottymobeels,  No

Matter How Many He Has Of 'Em. You Can See By His Letter He Ain't

Spoiled Yet,  And If He's Got Hold Of Steve's Idea Of Things He'll Find

Plenty Of Use For His Money,  Doing Good Where There Ain't A Young Woman

About That Is Bound To Object To Being Took Care Of By A Young Man She

Don't Know And Don't Belong To. However,  I Guess You Can Say That,

Mother,  Without Offending Him. Tell Him We'll Take Care Of The Money

Part. Tell Him We're Real Glad To Get A Daughter. You're Sure,  Mother,

It Won't Be Hard For You To Have A Stranger Around In Steve's Place?"

 

"No,  I Like It," Said Mother,  With A Smile,  Brushing Away A Bright Tear

That Burst Out Unawares. "I Like It '_Hard_,' As Steve Used To Say! Do

You Know,  Father,  What I've Been Thinking--What I Thought Right Away

When I Read That Letter? I Thought,  Suppose That Girl Was The One

Stephen Would Have Loved And Wanted To Marry If He Had Lived. And

Suppose He Had Brought Her Home Here,  What A Fuss We Would Have Made

About Her,  And All! And I'd Just Have Loved To Fix Up The House And Make

It Look Pleasant For Her And Love Her As If She Were My Own Daughter."

 

Father's Eyes Were Moist,  Too. "H'm! Yes!" He Said,  Trying To Clear His

Throat. "I Guess She'd Be Com'ny For You,  Too,  Mother,  When I Have To Go

Chapter 11 Pg 60

To Town,  And She'd Help Around With The Work Some When She Got Better."

 

"I've Been Thinking," Said Mother. "I've Always Thought I'd Like To Fix

Up The Spare Room. I Read In My Magazine How To Fix Up A Young Girl's

Room When She Comes Home From College,  And I'd Like To Fix It Like That

If There's Time. You Paint The Furniture White,  And Have Two Sets Of

Curtains,  Pink And White,  And Little Shelves For Her Books. Do You Think

We Could Do It?"

 

"Why,  Sure!" Said Father. He Was So Pleased To See Mother Interested

Like This That He Was Fairly Trembling. She Had Been So Still And Quiet

And Wistful Ever Since The News Came About Stephen. "Why,  Sure! Get Some

Pretty Wall-Paper,  Too,  While You're 'Bout It. S'posen You And I Take A

Run To Town Again In The Morning And Pick It Out. Then You Can Pick Your

Curtains And Paint,  Too,  And Get Jed Lewis To Come In The Afternoon And

Put On The First Coat. How About Calling Him Up On The 'Phone Right Now

And Asking Him About It? I'm Real Glad We've Got That 'Phone. It'll Come

In Handy Now."

 

Mother's Eyes Glistened. The 'Phone Was Another Thing Stephen Insisted

Upon Before He Left Home. They Hadn't Used It Half A Dozen Times Except

When The Telegrams Came,  But They Hadn't The Heart To Have It

Disconnected,  Because Stephen Had Taken So Much Pride In Having It Put

In. He Said He Didn't Like His Mother Left Alone In The House Without A

Chance To Call A Neighbor Or Send For The Doctor.

 

"Come To Think Of It,  Hadn't You Better Send A Telegram To That Chap

To-Night? You Know We Can 'Phone It Down To The Town Office. He'll Maybe

Be Worried How You're Going To Take That Letter. Tell Him He's Struck

The Right Party,  All Right,  And You're On The Job Writing That Little

Girl A Letter To-Night That'll Make Her Welcome And No Mistake. But Tell

Him We'll Finance This Operation Ourselves,  And He Can Save The

Ottymobeel For The Next Case That Comes Along--Words To That Effect You

Know,  Mother."

 

The Supper Things Were Shoved Back And The Telephone Brought Into

Requisition. They Called Up Jed Lewis First Before He Went To Bed,  And

Got His Reluctant Promise That He Would Be On Hand At Two O'clock The

Next Afternoon. They Had To Tell Him They Were Expecting Company Or He

Might Not Have Been There For A Week In Spite Of His Promise.

 

It Took Nearly An Hour To Reduce The Telegram To Ten Words,  But At Last

They Settled On:

 

     Bonnie Welcome. Am Writing You Both To-Night. No Money

     Necessary.

 

                    (Signed)   Stephen's Mother And Father.

 

The Letters Were Happy Achievements Of Brevity,  For It Was Getting Late,

And Mother Marshall Realized That They Must Be Up Early In The Morning

To Get All That Shopping Done Before Two O'clock.

 

First The Letter To Bonnie,  Written In A Cramped,  Laborious Hand:

Chapter 11 Pg 61

 

     Dear Little Girl:

 

     You Don't Know Me,  But I've Heard About You From A Sort Of

     Neighbor Of Yours. I'm Just A Lonely Mother Whose Only Son

     Has Gone Home To Heaven. I've Heard All About Your Sorrow

     And Loneliness,  And I've Taken A Notion That Maybe You Would

     Like To Come And Visit Me For A Little While And Help Cheer

     Me Up. Maybe We Can Comfort Each Other A Little Bit,  And,

     Anyhow,  I Want You To Come.

 

     Father And I Are Fixing Up Your Room For You,  Just As We

     Would If You Were Our Own Daughter Coming Home From College.

     For You See We've Quite Made Up Our Minds You Will Come,  And

     Father Wants You Just As Much As I Do. We Are Sending You

     Mileage,  And A Check To Get Any Little Things You May Need

     For The Journey,  Because,  Of Course,  We Wouldn't Want To Put

     You To Expense To Come All This Long Way Just To Please Two

     Lonely Old People. It's Enough For You That You Are Willing

     To Come,  And We're So Glad About It That It Almost Seems As

     If The Birds Must Be Singing And The Spring Flowers Going To

     Bloom For You,  Even Though It Is Only The Middle Of Winter.

 

     Don't Wait To Get Any Fixings. Just Come As You Are. We're

     Plain Folks.

 

     Father Says Be Sure You Get A Good,  Comfortable Berth In The

     Sleeper,  And Have Your Trunk Checked Right Through. If

     You've Got Any Other Things Besides Your Trunk,  Have Them

     Sent Right Along By Freight. It's Better To Have Your Things

     Here Where You Can Look After Them Than Stored Away Off

     There.

 

     We're So Happy About Your Coming We Can'testablished By The Revolutionary Coalition Headed By

Prince Lvov. From The Very First Day It Was Evident That The Cabinet Could

Never Satisfy The Russian People. It Was An Anomaly In That The Revolution

Had Been A Popular Revolution,  While The Provisional Government Was

Overwhelmingly Representative Of The Landowners,  Manufacturers,  Bankers,

And Merchants--The Despised And Distrusted Bourgeoisie. The Very Meager

Representation Given To The Working Class,  Through Kerensky,  Was,  In The

Circumstances,  Remarkable For Its Stupid Effrontery And Its Disregard Of

The Most Obvious Realities. Much Has Been Said And Written Of The

Doctrinaire Attitude Which Has Characterized The Bolsheviki In The Later

Phases Of The Struggle,  But If By Doctrinairism Is Meant Subservience To

Preconceived Theories And Disregard Of Realities,  It Must Be Said That The

Statesmen Of The Bourgeoisie Were As Completely Its Victims As The

Bolsheviki Later Proved To Be. They Were Subservient To Dogma And

Indifferent To Fact.

 

The Bourgeois Leaders Of Russia--And Those Socialists Who Co-Operated With

Them--Attempted To Ignore The Biggest And Most Vital Fact In The Whole

Chapter 11 Pg 62

Situation,  Namely,  The Fact That The Revolution Was Essentially A

Socialist Revolution In The Sense That The Overwhelming Mass Of The People

Were Bent Upon The Realization Of A Very Comprehensive,  Though Somewhat

Crudely Conceived,  Program Of Socialization. It Was Not A Mere Political

Revolution,  And Political Changes Which Left The Essential Social Structure

Unchanged,  Which Did Not Tend To Bring About Equality Of Democratic

Opportunity,  And Which Left The Control Of The Nation In The Hands Of

Landowners And Capitalists,  Could Never Satisfy The Masses Nor Fail To

Invite Their Savage Attack. Only The Most Hopeless And Futile Of

Doctrinaires Could Have Argued Themselves Into Believing Anything Else. It

Was Quite Idle To Argue From The Experience Of Other Countries That Russia

Must Follow The Universal Rule And Establish And Maintain Bourgeois Rule

For A Period More Or Less Prolonged. True,  That Had Been The Experience Of

Most Nations,  But It Was Foolish In The Extreme To Suppose That It Must Be

The Experience Of Russia,  Whose Conditions Were So Utterly Unlike Those

Which Had Obtained In Any Nation Which Had By Revolution Established

Constitutional Government Upon A Democratic Basis.

 

To Begin With,  In Every Other Country Revolution By The Bourgeoisie Itself

Had Been The Main Factor In The Overthrow Of Autocracy. Feudalism And

Monarchical Autocracy Fell In Western Europe Before The Might Of A Powerful

Rising Class. That This Class In Every Case Drew To Its Side The Masses And

Benefited By Their Co-Operation Must Not Be Allowed To Obscure The Fact

That In These Other Countries Of All The Classes In Society The Bourgeoisie

Was The Most Powerful. It Was That Fact Which Established Its Right To Rule

In Place Of The Deposed Rulers. The Russian Middle Class,  However,  Lacked

That Historic Right To Rule. In Consequence Of The Backwardness Of The

Nation From The Point Of View Of Industrial Development,  The Bourgeoisie

Was Correspondingly Backward And Weak. Never In Any Country Had A Class So

Weak And Uninfluential Essayed The Rôle Of The Ruling Class. To Believe

That A Class Which At The Most Did Not Exceed Six Per Cent. Of The

Population Could Assert And Maintain Its Rule Over A Nation Of One Hundred

And Eighty Millions Of People,  When These Had Been Stirred By Years Of

Revolutionary Agitation,  Was At Once Pedantic And Absurd.

 

The Industrial Proletariat Was As Backward And As Relatively Weak As The

Bourgeoisie. Except By Armed Force And Tyranny Of The Worst Kind,  This

Class Could Not Rule Russia. Its Fitness And Right To Rule Are Not

Appreciably Greater Than The Fitness And Right Of The Bourgeoisie. It

Cannot Even Be Said On Its Behalf That It Had Waged The Revolutionary

Struggle Of The Working Class,  For In Truth Its Share In The Russian

Revolutionary Movement Had Been Relatively Small,  Far Less Than That Of The

Peasant It Was Mother Marshall Who Put It Into Words:

 

Chapter 11 Pg 63

"You Don't Suppose,  Seth," She Appealed--She Always Called Him Seth In

Times Of Crisis--"You Don't Suppose That Perhaps She Mightn't _Want_ To

Come,  After All!"

 

"Well,  I Was Thinking,  Rachel," He Said,  Tenderly,  "We'd Best Not Be

Getting Too Set On It. But,  Anyhow,  We'd Be Ready For Some One Else. You

Know Stevie Always Wanted You To Have Things Fixed Nice And Fancy. But

You Fix It Up. I Guess She's Coming. I Really Do Think She Must Be

Coming! We'll Just Pray About It And Then We'll Leave It There!"

 

And So With Peace In Their Faces They Arrived At Home,  Just Five Minutes

Before The Painter Was Due,  And Unloaded Their Packages. Father Lifted

Out The Big Roll Of Soft,  Velvety Carpeting,  Gray As A Cloud,  With Moss

Roses Scattered Over It. He Was Proud To Think He Could Buy Things Like

This For Mother. Of Course Now They Had No Need To Save And Scrimp For

Stephen The Way They Had Done During The Years; So It Was Well To Make

The Rest Of The Way As Bright For Mother As He Could. And This "Bonnie"

Girl! If She Would Only Come,  What A Bright,  Happy Thing It Would Be In

Their Desolated Home!

 

But Suppose She Shouldn't Come?

Chapter 12 Pg 64

 

The Telegram Reached Courtland Friday Evening,  Just As He Was Going To

The Dare Dinner,  And Filled Him With An Almost Childish Delight. Not For

A Long Time Had He Had Anything As Nice As That Happen; Not Even When He

Made Phi Beta Kappa In His Junior Year Had He Been So Filled With

Exultation. It Was Like Having A Fairy-Tale Come True. To Think There

Had Really Been A Woman In The World Who Would Respond In That Cordial

Way To A Call From The Great Unknown!

 

He Presented Himself In His Most Sparkling Mood At The House Where He

Was To Dine. There Was Nothing At All Blue About Him. His Eyes Fairly

Danced With Pleasure And His Smile Was Rare. Gila Looked And Drooped Her

Eyes Demurely. She Thought The Sparkle Was All For Her,  And Her Little

Wicked Heart Gave A Throb Of Exultant Joy.

 

Mrs. Dare Was No Longer A Large,  Purple Person. She Was In Full Evening

Dress,  Explaining That She And Her Husband Had An Engagement At The

Opera After Dinner. She Resembled The Fat Dough People That The Cook

Used To Fashion For Him In His Youth. Her Pudgy Arms So Reminded Him Of

Chapter 12 Pg 65

Those Shapeless Cooky Arms That He Found Himself Fascinated By The

Thought As He Watched Her Moving Her Bejeweled Hands Among The Trinkets

At Her End Of The Glittering Table. Her Gown,  What There Was Of It,  Was

Of Black Gauze Emblazoned With Dartling Sequins Of Deep Blue. An Aigret

In Her Hair Twinkled Knowingly Above Her Coarse,  Painted Face.

Courtland,  As He Studied Her More Closely,  Rejoiced That The Telegram

Had Arrived Before He Left The Dormitory,  For He Never Could Have Had

The Courage To Come To This Plump-Shouldered Lady Seeking Refuge For His

Refined Little Bonnie Girl.

 

The Father Of The Family Was A Little Wisp Of A Man With A Nervous Laugh

And A High,  Thin Voice. There Were Kind Lines Around His Mouth And Eyes,

Indulgent Lines--Not Self-Indulgent,  Either,  And Insomuch They Were

Noble--But There Was A Weakness About The Face That Showed He Was Ruled

By Others To A Large Extent. He Said,  "Yes,  My Dear!" Quite Obediently

When His Wife Ordered Him Affably Around. There Was A Cunning Look In

His Eye That Might Explain The General Impression Current That He Knew

How To Turn A Dollar To His Own Account.

 

It Occurred To Courtland To Wonder What Would Happen If He Should

Suddenly Ask Mr. Dare What He Thought Of Christ,  Or If He Believed In

The Resurrection. He Could Quite Imagine They Would Look Aghast As If He

Had Spoken Of Something Impolite. One Couldn't Think Of Mrs. Dare In A

Resurrection,  She Would Seem So Out Of Place,  So Sort Of Unclothed For

The Occasion,  In Those Fat,  Doughy Arms With Her Glittering Jet

Shoulder-Straps. He Realized That All These Thoughts That Raced Through

His Head Were But Fantasies Occasioned No Doubt By His Own Highly

Wrought Nervous Condition,  But They Kept Crowding In And Bringing The

Mirth To His Eyes. How,  For Instance,  Would Mother Marshall And Mother

Dare Hit It Off If They Should Happen Together In The Same Heaven?

 

Gila Was All In White,  From The Tip Of Her Pearly Shoulders Down To The

Tip Of Her Pearl-Beaded Slippers--White And Demure. Her Skin Looked Even

More Pearly Than When She Wore The Brilliant Red-Velvet Gown. It Had A

Pure,  Dazzling Whiteness,  Different From Most Skins. It Perplexed Him.

It Did Not Look Like Flesh,  But More Like Some Ethereal Substance Meant

For Angels. He Drew A Breath Of Satisfaction That There Was Not Even A

Flush Upon It To-Night. No Painting There At Least! He Was Not Master Of

The Rare Arts That Skins Are Subject To In These Days. He Knew

Artificial Whiteness Only When It Was Glaring And Floury. This Pearly

Paleness Was Exquisite,  Delicious; And In Contrast The Great Dark Eyes,

Lifted Pansy-Like For An Instant And Then Down-Drooped Beneath Those

Wonderful,  Long Curling Lashes,  Were Almost Startling In Their Beauty.

The Hair Was Simply Arranged With A Plain Narrow Band Of Black Velvet

Around The White Temples,  And The Soft Loops Of Cloudy Darkness Drawn

Out On Her Cheeks In Her Own Fantastic Way. There Was An Attempt At

Demureness In The Gown; Soft Folds Of Pure Transparent Nothing Seemed To

Shelter What They Could Not Hide,  And More Such Folds Drooped Over The

Lovely Arms To The Elbows. Surely,  Surely,  This Was Loveliness

Undefiled. The Words Of Peer Gynt Came Floating Back Disconnectedly,

More As A Puzzled Question In His Mind Than As They Stand In The Story:

 

     "Is Your Psalm-Book In Your 'Kerchief?

       Do You Glance Adown Your Apron?

         Do You Hold Your Mother's Skirt-Fold?

           Speak!"

 

But He Only Looked At Her Admiringly,  And Talked On About The College

Games,  Making Himself Agreeable To Every One,  And Winning More And More

The Lifted Pansy-Eyes.

 

When Dinner Was Over They Drifted Informally Into A Large

White-And-Gold Reception-Room,  With Inhospitable Chairs And Settees

Whose Satin Slipperiness Offered No Inducements To Sit Down. There Were

Gold-Lacquered Tables And A Curious Concert-Grand Piano,  Also Gold

Inlaid With Mother-Of-Pearl Cupids And Flowers. Everything Was Most

Elaborate. Gila,  In Her Soft Transparencies,  Looked Like A Wraith Amid

It All. The Young Man Chose To Think She Was Too Rare And Fine For A

Place So Ornate.

 

Presently The Fat Cooky Arms Of The Mother Were Enfolded In A Gorgeous

Blue-Plush Evening Cloak Beloaded With Handsome Black Fur; And With Many

Bows And Kindly Words The Little Husband Toddled Off Beside Her,

Reminding Courtland Of A Big Cinnamon Bear And A Little Black-And-Tan

Dog He Had Once Seen Together In A Show.

 

Gila Stood Bewitchingly Childish In The Great Gold Room,  And Shyly Asked

If He Would Like To Go To The Library,  Where It Was Cozier. The Red

Light Glowed Across The Hall,  And He Turned From It With A Shudder Of

Remembrance. The Glow Seemed To Beat Upon His Nerves Like Something

Striking His Eyeballs.

 

"I'd Like To Hear You Play,  If You Will," He Answered,  Wondering In His

Heart If,  After All,  A Dolled-Up Instrument Like That Was Really Meant

To Be Played Upon.

 

Gila Pouted. She Did Not Want To Play,  But She Would Not Seem To Refuse

The Challenge. She Went To The Piano And Rippled Off A Brilliant Waltz

Or Two,  Just To Show Him She Could Do It,  Played Humoresque,  And A Few

Little Catchy Melodies That Were In The Popular Ear Just Then,  And Then,

Whirling On The Gilded Stool,  She Lifted Her Big Eyes To Him:

 

"I Don't Like It In Here," She Said,  With A Little Shiver,  As A Child

Might Do; "Let's Go Into The Library By The Fire. It's Pleasanter There

To Talk."

 

Courtland Hesitated. "Look Here," Said He,  Frankly,  "Wouldn't You Just

As Soon Sit Somewhere Else? I Don't Like That Red Light Of Yours. It

Gets On My Nerves. I Don't Like To See You In It. It Makes You

Look--Well--Something Different From What I Believe You Really Are. I

Like A Plain,  Honest White Light."

 

Gila Gave Him One Swift,  Wondering Glance And Walked Laughingly Over

    8. Education In Native Language; Native Languages Everywhere To

    Have Equal Rights With Official Language.

 

    9. Every Nationality In The State To Have The Right Of

    Self-Definition.

Chapter 12 Pg 66

 

    10. The Right Of All Persons To Prosecute Officials Before A Jury.

 

    11. Election Of Magistrates.

 

    12. A Citizen Army Instead Of Ordinary Troops.

 

    13. Separation Of Church From State And School From Church.

 

    14. Free Compulsory Education For Both Sexes To The Age Of

    Sixteen.

 

    15. State Feeding Of Poor Children.

 

    16. Confiscation Of Church Property,  Also That Of The Royal

    Family.

 

    17. Progressive Income Tax.

 

    18. An Eight-Hour Day,  With Six Hours For All Under Eighteen.

 

    19. Prohibition Of Female Labor Where Such Is Harmful To Women.

 

    20. A Clear Holiday Once A Week To Consist Of Forty-Two Hours On

    End.

 

It Would Be A Mistake To Suppose That This Very Moderate Program Embraced

All That The Majority Of The Social Democratic Party Aimed At. It Was Not

Intended To Be More Than An Ameliorative Program For Immediate Adoption By

The Constituent Assembly,  For The Convocation Of Which The Social Democrats

Were Most Eager,  And Which They Confidently Believed Would Have A Majority

Of Socialists Of Different Factions.

 

In A Brilliant And Caustic Criticism Of Conditions As They Existed In The

Pre-Bolshevist Period,  Trotzky Denounced What He Called "The Farce Of Dual

Authority." In A Characteristically Clever And Biting Phrase,  He Described

It As "The Epoch Of Dual Impotence,  The Government Not Able,  And The Soviet

Not Daring," And Predicted Its Culmination In A "Crisis Of Unheard-Of

Severity."[5] There Was More Than A Little Truth In The Scornful Phrase. On

The One Hand,  There Was The Provisional Government,  To Which The Soviet Had

Given Its Consent And Its Allegiance,  Trying To Discharge The Functions Of

Government. On The Other Hand,  There Was The Soviet Itself,  Claiming The

Right To Control The Course Of The Provisional Government And Indulging In

Systematic Criticism Of The Latter's Actions. It Was Inevitable That The

Soviet Should Have Been Driven Irresistibly To The Point Where It Must

Either Renounce Its Own Existence Or Oppose The Provisional Government.

 

The Dominating Spirit And Thought Of The Soviet Was That Of International

Social Democracy. While Most Of The Delegates Believed That It Was

Necessary To Prosecute The War And To Defeat The Aggressions Of The Central

Empires,  They Were Still Socialists,  Internationalists,  Fundamental

Democrats,  And Anti-Imperialists. Not Without Good And Sufficient Reason,

They Mistrusted The Bourgeois Statesmen And Believed That Some Of The Most

Influential Among Them Were Imperialists,  Actuated By A Desire For

Territorial Expansion,  Especially The Annexation Of Constantinople,  And

That They Were Committed To Various Secret Treaties Entered Into By The Old

Régime With England,  France,  And Italy. In The Meetings Of The Soviet,  And

In Other Assemblages Of Workers,  The Ugly Suspicion Grew That The War Was

Not Simply A War For National Defense,  For Which There Was Democratic

Sanction And Justification,  But A War Of Imperialism,  And That The

Provisional Government Was Pursuing The Old Ways Of Secret Diplomacy.

 

Strength Was Given To This Feeling When Miliukov,  The Foreign Minister,  In

An Interview Championed The Annexation Of Constantinople As A Necessary

Safeguard For The Outlet To The Mediterranean Which Russian Economic

Development Needed. Immediately There Was An Outcry Of Protest From The

Soviet,  In Which,  It Should Be Observed,  The Bolsheviki Were Already

Gaining Strength And Confidence,  Thanks To The Leadership Of Kamenev,

Lenine's Colleague,  Who Had Returned From Siberian Exile. It Was Not Only

The Bolsheviki,  However,  Who Protested Against Imperialistic Tendencies.

Practically The Whole Body Of Socialists,  Mensheviki And Bolsheviki Alike,

Agreed In Opposing Imperialism And Secret Diplomacy. Socialists Loyal To

The National Defense And Socialists Who Repudiated Thay. Sdulgently. "She Didn't

Have Any Use For A Chaperon,  Child," He Said,  As If He Were A Great Deal

Older Than She. "She Came Here With Her Little Brother To Earn Their

Living."

 

"Oh,  She _Had_ A Brother,  Then!" Sighed Gila With Evident Relief.

 

It Occurred To Courtland To Be A Bit Pleased That Gila Was So Particular

About The Conventionalities. He Had Heard It Rumored More Than Once That

Her Own Conduct Overstepped The Most Lenient Of Rules. That Must Have

Been A Mistake. It Was A Relief To Know It From Her Own Lips. But He

Explained,  Gently:

 

"The Little Brother Was Killed On Monday Night," He Said,  Gravely. "Just

Run Down In Cold Blood By A Passing Automobile."

 

"How Perfectly Dreadful!" Shuddered Gila,  Shrinking Back Into The Depths

Of The Chair. "But You Know You Mustn't Believe A Story Like That! Poor

People Are Always Getting Up Such Tales About Rich People's

Automobiles. It Isn't True At All. No Chauffeur Would Do A Thing Like

That! The Children Just Run Out And Get In The Way Of The Cars To

Tantalize The Drivers. I've Seen Them Myself. Why,  Our Chauffeur Has

Chapter 12 Pg 67

Been Arrested Three Or Four Times And Charged With Running Over Children

And Dogs,  When It Wasn't His Fault At All; The People Were Just Trying

To Get Some Money Out Of Us! I Don't Suppose The Little Child Was Run

Over. It Was Probably His Own Fault."

 

"Yes,  He Was Run Over," Said Courtland,  Gently. "I Saw It Myself! I Was

Standing On The Curbstone When The Boy--He Was A Beautiful Little Fellow

With Long Golden Curls--Rushed Out To Meet His Sister,  Calling Out To

Her,  And The Automobile Came Whirring By Without A Sign Of A Horn,  And

Crushed Him Down Just Like A Broken Lily. He Never Lifted His Head Nor

Made A Motion Again,  And The Automobile Never Even Slowed Up To

See--Just Shot Ahead And Was Gone."

 

Gila Was Still For A Minute. She Had No Words To Meet A Situation Like

This. "Oh,  Well," She Said,  "I Suppose He Is Better Off,  And The Girl

Is,  Too. How Could She Take Care Of A Child In The City Alone,  And Do

Any Work? Besides,  Children Are An Awful Torment,  And Very Likely He

Would Have Turned Out Bad. Boys Usually Do. What Did You Want Me To Do

For Her? Get Her A Position As A Maid?"

 

There Was Something Almost Flippant In Her Tone. Strange That Courtland

Did Not Recognize It. But The Firelight,  The White Gown,  The Pure

Profile,  The Down-Drooped Lashes Had Done For Him Once More What The Red

Light Had Done Before--Taken Him Out Of His Normal Senses And Made Him

See A Gila That Was Not Really There: Soft,  Sweet,  Tender,  Womanly. The

Words,  Though They Did Not Satisfy Him,  Merely Meant That She Had Not

Yet Understood What He Wanted,  And Was Striving Hard To Find Out.

 

"No," He Said,  Gently. "I Want You To Go And See Her. She Is Sick And In

The Hospital. She Needs A Friend,  A Real Girl Friend,  Such As You Could

Be If You Would."

 

Gila Answered In Her Slow,  Pretty Drawl: "Why,  I Hate Hospitals! I

Wouldn't Even Go To See Mama When She Had An Operation On Her Neck Last

Winter,  Because I Hate The Odors They Have Around. But I'll Go If You

Want Me To. Of Course I Won't Promise How Much Good I'll Do. Girls Of

That Stamp Don't Want To Be Helped,  You Know. They Think They Know It

All,  And They Are Usually Most Insulting. But I'll See What I Can Do. I

Don't Mind Giving Her Something. I've Three Evening Dresses That I

Perfectly Hate,  And One Of Them I've Never Had On But Once. She Might

Get A Position To Act Somewhere Or Sing In A Cafe If She Had Good

Clothes."

 

Courtland Hastened Earnestly To Impress Her With The Fact That Miss

Brentwood Was A Refined Girl Of Good Family,  And That It Would Be An

Insult To Offer Her Second-Hand Clothing; But When He Gave It Up And

Yielded To Gila's Plea That He Drop These Horrid,  Gloomy Subjects And

Talk About Something Cheerful,  He Had A Feeling Of Failure. Perhaps He

Ought Not To Have Told Gila,  After All. She Simply Couldn't Understand

The Other Girl Because She Had Never Dreamed Of Such A Situation.

 

If He Could Have Seen His Gentle Gila A Couple Of Hours Later,  Standing

Before Her Mirror Again And Setting Those Little Sharp Teeth Into Her

Red Lip,  The Ugly Frown Between Her Angry Eyes; If He Could Have Heard

Chapter 12 Pg 68

Her Low-Muttered Words,  And,  Worse Still,  Guessed Her Thoughts About

Himself And That Other Girl--He Certainly Would Have Gone Out And

Gnashed His Teeth In Despair. If He Could Have Known What Was To Come

Of His Request To Gila Dare He Would Have Rung Up The Hospital And Had

Miss Brentwood Moved To Another One In Hot Haste,  Or,  Better Still,  Have

Taken Strenuous Measures To Prevent That Visit. But Instead Of That He

Read Mother Marshall's Telegram Over Again,  And Lay Down To Forget Gila

Dare Utterly,  And Think Pleasant Thoughts About The Marshalls.

 

Chapter 13 Pg 69

Gila Dare,  In Her Very Most Startling Costume,  Lavishly Plastered With

Costly Fur,  And High-Laced,  French-Heeled Boots,  Came Tripping Down Her

Father's Steps To The Limousine. She Carried A Dangling Little Trick Of

A Hand-Bag And A Muff Big Enough For A Rug. Her Two Eyes Looked Forth

From The Rim Of The Low-Squashed,  Bandage-Like Fur Hat Like The Eyes Of

A Small,  Sly Mouse That Was About To Nibble Somebody Else's Cheese.

 

By Her Side A Logy Youth,  With Small,  Blue Fish-Eyes Fixed Adoringly On

Her,  Sauntered Protectingly. She Wore A Large Bunch Of Pale-Yellow

Orchids,  Evidently His Gift,  And Was Paying For Them With Her Glances.

One Knew By The Excited Flush On The Young Man's Face That He Had Rarely

Been Paid So Well. His Eyes Took On A Glint Of Intelligence,  One Might

Almost Say Of Hope,  And He Smiled Egregiously,  Egotistically. His

Assurance Grew With Each Step He Took. As He Opened The Door Of The

Luxurious Car For Her He Wore An Attitude Of One Who Might Possibly Be A

Fiance. Her Little Mouse-Eyes--You Wouldn't Have Dreamed They Could Ever

Be Large And Wistful,  Nor Innocent,  Either--Twinkled Pleasurably. She

Was Playing Her Usual Game And Playing It Well. It Was The Game For

Which She Was Rapidly Becoming Notorious,  Young As She Was.

 

"Oh,  Now,  _Chaw_-! _Ree_-Ally! Why,  I Never Dreamed It Was That Bad! But

You Mustn't,  You Know! I Never Gave You Permission!"

 

The Chauffeur,  Sitting Stolidly In His Uniform,  Awaiting The Word To

Move,  Wondered Idly What She Was Up To Now. He Was Used To Seeing The

Game Played All Around Him Day After Day,  As If He Were A Stick Or A

Stone,  Or One Of The Metal Trappings Of The Car.

 

"Chawley" Hathaway Looked Unutterable Things,  And The Little Mouse-Eyes

Chapter 13 Pg 70

Looked Back Unutterable Things,  With That Lingering,

Just-Too-Long-For-Pardoning Glance That A Certain Kind Of Men And Women

Employ When They Want To Loiter Near The Danger-Line And Toy With Vital

Things. An Impressive Hand-Clasp,  Another Long,  Languishing Look,  Just A

Shade Longer This Time; Then He Closed The Door,  Lifted His Hat At The

Mouse-Eyed Goddess,  And The Limousine Swept Away. They Had Parted As If

Something Momentous Had Occurred,  And Both Knew In Their Hearts That

Neither Had Meant Anything At All Except To Play With Fire For An

Instant,  Like Children Sporting At Lighting A Border Of Forest That Has

A Heart Of True Homes In Its Keeping.

 

Gila Swept On In Her Chariot. The Young Man With Whom She Had Played Was

Well Skilled In The Game. He Understood Her Perfectly,  As She Him. If He

Got Burned Sometimes It Was "Up To Him." She Meant To Take Good Care Of

Herself.

 

Around Another Corner She Spied Another Acquaintance. A Word To The

Automaton On The Front Seat And The Limousine Swept Up To The Curb Where

He Was Passing. Gila Leaned Out With The Sweetest Bow. She Was The

Condescending Lady Now; No Mouse-Eyes In Evidence This Time; Just A

Beautiful,  Commanding Presence To Be Obeyed. She Would Have Him Ride

With Her,  So He Got In.

 

He Was A Tall,  Serious Youth With Credulous Eyes,  And She Swept His

Soulful Nature As One Sweeps The Keys Of A Familiar Instrument,  Drawing

Forth Time-Worn Melodies That,  Nevertheless,  Were New To Him. And Just

Because He Thrilled Under Them,  And Looked In Her Eyes With Startled

Earnestness,  Did She Like To Play Upon His Soul. It Would Have Been A

Bore If He Had Understood,  For He Was A Dull Soul,  And Young--Ages Young

For Gila,  Though His Years Numbered Two More Than Hers. She Liked To See

His Eyes Kindle And His Breath Come Quick. Some Day He Would Tell Her

With Impassioned Words How Much He Loved Her,  And She Would Turn Him

Neatly And Comfortably Down For A While,  Till He Learned His Place And

Promised Not To Be Troublesome. Then He Might Join The Procession Again

As Long As He Would Behave. But At Present She Knew She Could Sway Him

As She Would,  And She Touched The Orchids At Her Belt With Tender Little

Caressing Movements And Melting Looks. Even Before She Reached Home She

Knew He Would Have A Box Of Something Rarer Or More Costly Waiting For

Her,  If The City Afforded Such.

 

She Set Him Down At His Club,  Quite Well Satisfied With Her Few Minutes.

She Was Glad It Didn't Last Longer,  For It Would Have Grown Tiresome;

She Had Had Just Enough,  Carried Him Just Far Enough On The Wave Of

Emotion,  To Stimulate Her Own Soul.

 

Sweeping Away From The Curb Again,  Bowing Graciously To Two Or Three

Other Acquaintances Who Were Going In Or Out Of The Club Building,  She

Gave An Order For The Hospital And Set Her Face Sternly To The Duty

Before Her.

 

A Little Breeze Of Expectation Preceded Her Entrance Into The Hospital,

A Stir Among The Attendants About The Door. Passing Nurses Apprized Her

Furs And Orchids; Young Interns Took Account Of Her Eyes--The Mouse-Eyes

Chapter 13 Pg 71

Had Returned,  But They Lured With Something Unspeakable And Thrilling In

Them.

 

She Waited With A Nice Little Superb Air That Made Everybody Hurry To

Serve Her,  And Presently She Was Shown Up To The Door Of Bonnie

Brentwood's Room. Her Chauffeur Had Followed,  Bearing A Large Pasteboard

Suit-Box Which He Set Down At The Door And Departed.

 

"Is This Miss Brentwood's Room?" She Asked Of The Nurse Who Opened The

Door Grudgingly. Her Patient Had Just Awakened From A Refreshing Sleep

And She Had No Notion That This Lofty Little Person Had Really Come To

See The Quiet,  Sad-Eyed Girl Who Had Come There In Such Shabby Little

Garments. The Visitor Had Made A Mistake,  Of Course. The Nurse

Grudgingly Admitted That Miss Brentwood Roomed There.

 

"Well,  I've Brought Some Things For Her," Said Gila,  Indicating The

Large Box At Her Feet. "You Can Take It Inside And Open It."

 

The Nurse Opened The Door A Little Wider,  Looked At The Small,  Imperious

Personage In Fur Trappings,  And Then Down At The Box. She Hesitated A

Moment In A Kind Of Inward Fury,  Then Swung The Door A Little Wider Open

And Stepped Back:

 

"You Can Set It Inside If You Wish,  Or Wait Till One Of The Men Comes

By," She Said,  Coolly,  And Deliberately Walked Back In The Room And

Busied Herself With The Medicine-Glasses.

 

Gila Stared At Her Haughtily A Moment,  But There Wasn't Much

Satisfaction In Wasting Her Glares On That White-Linen Back,  So She

Stooped And Dragged In The Box. She Came And Stood By The Bed,  Staring

Down Apprizingly At The Sick Girl.

 

Bonnie Brentwood Turned Her Head Wearily And Looked Up At Her With A

Puzzled,  Half-Annoyed Expression. She Had Paid No Heed To The Little

Altercation At The Door. Her Apathy Toward Life Was Great. She Was Lying

On The Borderland,  Looking Over And Longing To Go Where All Her Dear

Ones Had Gone. It Wearied Her Inexpressibly That They All Would Insist

On Doing Things To Call Her Back.

 

"Is Your Name Brentwood?" Asked Gila,  In The Sharp,  High Key So Alien To

A Hospital.

 

Bonnie Recalled Her Spirit To This World And Focused Her Gaze On The

Girl As If To Try And Recall Where She Had Ever Met Her. Bonnie's

Abundant Hair Was Spread Out Over The Pillow,  As The Nurse Had Just

Prepared To Brush It. It Fell In Long,  Rich Waves Of Brightness And

Fascinating Little Rings Of Gold About Her Face. Gila Stared At It

Jealously,  As If It Were Something That Had Been Stolen From Her. Her

Own Hair,  Cloudy And Dreamy,  And Made Much Of With All That Skill And

Care Could Do,  Was Pitiful Beside This Wonderful Gold Mane With Red And

Purple Shadows In Its Depths,  And Ripples And Curls At The Ends.

Wonderful Hair!

 

The Face Of The Girl On The Pillow Was Perfect In Form And Feature.

Chapter 13 Pg 72

Regular,  Delicate,  Refined,  And Lovely! Gila Knew It Would Be Counted

Rarely Beautiful,  And She Was Furious! How Had That Upstart Of A College

Boy Dared To Send Her Here To See A Beauty! What Had He Meant By It?

 

By This Time The Girl On The Bed Had Summoned Her Soul Back To Earth For

The Nonce,  And Answered In A Cool,  Little Tone Of Distance,  As She Might

Have Spoken To Her Employer,  Perhaps; Or,  In Other Circumstances,  To The

Stranger Begging For Work On Her Door-Sill--Bonnie Was A Lady

Anywhere--"Yes,  I Am Miss Brentwood."

 

There Was No Noticeable Emphasis On The "Miss," But Gila Felt That The

Pauper Had Arisen And Put Herself On The Same Level With Her,  And She

Was Furious.

 

"Well,  I've Brought You A Few Things!" Declared Gila,  In A Most

Offensive Tone. "Paul Courtland Asked Me To Come And See What I Could Do

For You." She Swung Her Moleskin Trappings About And Pointed To The

Box. "I Don't Believe In Giving Money,  Not Often," She Declared,  With A

Tilt Of Her Nasty Little Chin That Suddenly Seemed To Curve Out In A

Hateful,  Satanic Point,  "But I Don't Mind Giving A Little Lift In Other

Ways To Persons Who Are Truly Worthy,  You Know. I've Brought You A Few

Evening Dresses That I'm Done With. It May Help You To Get A Position

Playing For The Movies,  Perhaps; Or If You Don't Know Rag-Time,  Perhaps

You Might Act--They'll Take Almost Anybody,  I Understand,  If They Have

Good Clothes. Besides,  I'm Going To Give You An Introduction To A Girls'

Employment Club. They Have A Hall And Hold Dances Once A Week And You

Get Acquainted. It Only Costs You Ten Cents A Week And It Will Give You

A Place To Spend Your Evenings. If You Join That You'll Need Evening

Dresses For The Dances. Of Course I Understand Some Of The Girls Just Go

In Their Street Suits,  But You Stand A Great Deal Better Chance Of

Having A Good Time If You Are Dressed Attractively. And Then They Say

Men Often Go In There Evenings To Look For A Stenographer,  Or An Actor,

Or Some Kind Of A Worker,  And They Always Pick Out The Prettiest. Dress

Goes A Great Way If You Use It Rightly. Now There's A Frock In Here--"

Gila Stooped And Untied The Cord On The Box. "This Frock Cost A Hundred

And Fifty Dollars,  And I Never Wore It But Once!"

 

She Held Up A Tattered Blue Net Adorned With Straggling,  Crushed,

Artificial Rosebuds,  Its Sole Pretension To A Waist Being A Couple Of

Straps Of Silver Tissue Attached To A Couple Of Rags Of Blue Net. It

Looked For All The World Like A Draggled Butterfly.

 

"It's Torn In One Or Two Places," Pursued Gila's Ready Tongue,  "But It's

Easily Mended. I Wore It To A Dance And Somebody Stepped On The Hem. I

Suppose You Are Good At Mending. A Girl In Your Position Ought To Know

How To Sew. My Maid Usually Mends Things Like This With A Thread Of

Itself. You Can Pull One Out Along The Hem,  I Should Think. Then Here Is

A Pink Satin. It Needs Cleaning. They Don't Charge More Than Two Or

Three Dollars--Or Perhaps You Might Use Gasolene. I Had Slippers To

Match,  But I Couldn't Find But One. I Brought That Along. I Thought You

Might Do Something With It. They Were Horribly Expensive--Made To Order,

You Know. Then This Cerise Chiffon,  All Covered With Sequins,  Is Really

Chapter 13 Pg 73

Too Showy For A Girl In Your Station,  But In Case You Get A Chance To

Act You Might Need It,  And Anyhow I Never Cared For It. It Isn't

Becoming To Me. Here's An Indigo Charmeuse With Silver Trimmings. I Got

Horribly Tired Of It,  But You Will Look Stunning In It. It Might Even

Help You Catch A Rich Husband; Who Knows! There's Half A Dozen Pairs Of

White Evening Gloves! I Might Have Had Them Cleaned,  But If You Can Use

Them I Can Get New Ones. And There's A Bundle Of Old Silk Stockings!

They Haven't Any Toes Or Heels Much,  But I Suppose You Can Darn Them.

And Of Course You Can't Afford To Buy Expensive Silk Stockings!"

 

One By One Gila Had Pulled The Things Out Of The Box,  Rattling On About

Them As If She Were Selling Corn-Cure. She Was A Trifle Excited,  To Be

Sure,  Now That She Was Fairly Launched On Her Philanthropic Expedition;

Also The Fact That The Two Women In The Room Were Absolutely Silent And

Gave No Hint Of How They Were Going To Take This Tide Of Insults Was

Somewhat Disconcerting. However,  Gila Was Not Easily Disconcerted. She

Was Very Angry,  And Her Anger Had Been Growing In Force All Night. The

Greatest Insult That Man Could Offer Her Had Been Heaped Upon Her By

Courtland,  And There Was No Punishment Too Great To Be Meted Out To The

Unfortunate Innocent Who Had Been The Occasion Of It. Gila Did Not Care

What She Said,  And She Had No Fear Of Any Consequences Whatever. There

Had Not,  So Far To Her Knowledge,  Lived The Man Who Could Not Be Called

Back And Humbled To Her Purpose After She Had Punished Him Sufficiently

For Any Offense He Might Knowingly Or Unknowingly Have Committed. That

She Really Had Begun To Admire Courtland,  And To Desire Him In Some

Degree For Her Own,  Only Added Fuel To Her Fire. This Girl Whom He Had

Dared To Pity Should Be Burned And Tortured; She Should Be Insulted And

Extinguished Utterly,  So That She Would Never Dare To Lift Her Head

Again Within Recognizable Distance Of Paul Courtland,  Or She Would Know

The Reason Why. Paul Courtland Was _Hers_--If She Chose To Have Him; Let

No Other Girl Dare To Look At Him!

 

The Nurse Stood,  Starched And Stern,  With Growing Indignation At The

Audacity Of The Stranger. Only The Petrification Of Absolute

Astonishment,  And Wonder As To What Would Happen Next,  Took Her Off Her

Guard For The Moment And Prevented Her From Ousting The Young Lady From

The Premises Instantly. There Was Also The Magic Name Of The Handsome

Young Gentleman That Had Been Used As Password,  And The Very Slight

Possibility That This Might Be Some Rich Relative Of The Lovely Young

Patient That She Would Not Like To Have Put Out. The Nurse Looked From

Bonnie To The Visitor In Growing Wrath And Perplexity.

 

Bonnie Lay Wide-Eyed And Amazed,  Startled Bewilderment And Growing

Dignity In Her Face. Two Soft,  Pink Spots Of Color Began To Bloom Out In

Her Cheeks,  And Her Eyes Took On A Twinkle Of Amusement. She Was

Watching The Visitor As If She Were A Passing Punch-And-Judy Show Come

In To Play For A Moment For Her Entertainment. She Lay And Regarded Her

And Her Tawdry Display Of Finery With A Quiet,  Disinterested Aloofness

That Was Beginning To Get On Gila's Nerves.

 

"You Can Have My Flowers,  Too,  If You Want Them," Said Gila,  Excitedly,

Seeing That Her Flood Of Insult Had Brought Forth No Answering Word From

Either Listener. "They're Very Handsome,  Rare Ones--Orchids,  You Know.

Did You Ever See Any Before? I Don't Mind Leaving Them With You Because

Chapter 13 Pg 74

I Have A Great Many Flowers,  And These Were Given Me By A Young Man I

Don't Care In The Least About."

 

She Unpinned The Flowers And Held Them Out To Bonnie,  But The Sick Girl

Lay Still And Regarded Her With That Quiet,  Half-Amused Gravity And Did

Not Offer To Take Them.

 

"I Presume You Can Find A Waste-Basket Down In The Office If You Want To

Get Rid Of Them," Said Bonnie,  Suddenly,  In A Clear,  Refined Voice. "I

Really Shouldn't Care For Them. Isn't There A Waste-Basket Somewhere

About?" She Asked,  Turning Toward The Nurse.

 

"Down In The Hall By The Front Entrance," Answered The Nurse,  Grimly.

She Was Ready To Play Up To Whatever Cue Bonnie Gave Her.

 

Gila Stood Haughtily Holding Her Flowers And Looking From One Woman To

The Other,  Unable To Believe That Any Other Woman Had The Insufferable

Audacity To Meet Her On Her Own Ground In This Way. Were They Actually

Guying Her,  Or Were They Innocents Who Really Thought She Did Not Want

The Flowers,  Or Who Did Not Know Enough To Think Orchids Beautiful?

Before She Could Decide Bonnie Was Speaking Again,  Still In That Quiet,

Superior Tone Of A Lady That Gave Her The Command Of The Situation:

 

"I Am Sorry," She Said,  Quite Politely,  As If She Must Let Her Visitor

Down Gently,  "But I'm Afraid You Have Made Some Mistake. I Don't Recall

Ever Having Met You Before. It Must Be Some Other Miss Brentwood For

Whom You Are Looking."

 

Gila Stared,  And Her Color Suddenly Began To Rise Even Under The Pearly

Tint Of Her Flesh. Had She Possibly Made Some Blunder? This Certainly

Was The Voice Of A Lady. And The Girl On The Bed Had The Advantage Of

Absolute Self-Control. Somehow That Angered Gila More Than Anything

Else.

 

"Don't You Know Paul Courtland?" She Demanded,  Imperiously.

 

"I Never Heard The Name Before!"

 

Bonnie's Voice Was Steady,  And Her Eyes Looked Coolly Into The Other

Girl's. The Nurse Looked At Bonnie And Marveled. She Knew The Name Of

Paul Courtland Well; She Telephoned To That Name Every Day. How Was It

That The Girl Did Not Know It? She Liked This Girl And The Man Who Had

Brought Her Here And Been So Anxious About Her. But Who On Earth Was

This Huzzy In Fur?

 

Gila Looked At Bonnie Madly. Her Stare Said As Plainly As Words Could

Have Done: "You Lie! You _Do_ Know Him!" But Gila's Lips Said,

Scornfully,  "Aren't You The Poor Girl Whose Kid Brother Got Killed By An

Automobile In The Street?"

 

Across Bonnie's Stricken Face There Flashed A Spasm Of Pain And Her Very

Lips Grew White.

 

"I Thought So!" Sneered Gila,  Rushing On With Her Insult. "And Yet You

Chapter 13 Pg 75

Deny That You Ever Heard Paul Courtland's Name! He Picked Up The Kid And

Carried It In The House And Ran Errands For You,  But You Don't Know Him!

That's Gratitude For You! I Told Him The Working-Class Were All Like

That. I Have No Doubt He Has Paid For This Very Room That You Are Lying

In!"

 

"Stop!" Cried Bonnie,  Sitting Up,  Her Eyes Like Two Stars,  Her Face

White To The Very Lips. "You Have No Right To Come Here And Talk Like

That! I Cannot Understand Who Could Have Sent You! Certainly Not The

Courteous Stranger Who Picked Up My Little Brother. I Do Not Know His

Name,  Nor Anything About Him,  But I Can Assure You That I Shall Not

Allow Him Nor Any One Else To Pay My Bills. Now Will You Take Your

Things And Leave My Room? I Am Feeling Very--Tired!"

 

The Voice Suddenly Trailed Off Into Silence And Bonnie Dropped Back

Limply Upon The Pillow.

 

The Nurse Sprang Like An Angry Bear Who Has Seen Somebody Troubling Her

Cubs. She Touched Vigorously A Button In The Wall As She Passed And

Swooped Down Upon The Tawdry Finery,  Stuffing It Unceremoniously Into

The Box; Then She Turned Upon The Little Fur-Trimmed Lady,  Placed A

Capable Arm About Her Slim Waist,  And Scooped Her Out Of The Room.

Flinging The Bulging Box Down At Her Feet,  Where It Gaped Widely,

Gushing Forth In Pink,  Blue,  Cerise,  And Silver,  She Shut The Door And

Flew Back To Her Charge.

 

Down The Hall Hurried The Emergency Doctor,  Formidable In His

White-Linen Uniform. When Gila Looked Up From The Confusion At Her Feet

She Encountered The Gaze Of A Pair Of Grave And Disapproving Eyes Behind

A Pair Of Fascinating Tortoise-Shell Goggles. She Was Not Accustomed To

Disapproval In Masculine Eyes And It Infuriated Her.

 

"What Does All This Mean?" His Voice Expressed A Good Many Kinds Of

Disapproval.

 

"It Means That I Have Been Insulted,  Sir,  By One Of Your Nurses!"

Declared Gila,  In Her Most Haughty Tone,  With A Tilt Of Her Chin And A

Flirt Of Her Fur Trappings. "I Shall Make It My Business To See That She

Is Removed At Once From Her Position."

 

The Doctor Eyed Her Mildly,  As Though She Were A Small Bat Squeaking At

A Mighty Hawk. "Indeed! I Fancy You Will Find That A Rather Difficult

Matter!" He Answered,  Contemptuously. "She Is One Of Our Best Nurses!

James!" To A Passing Assistant,  "Escort This Person And

Her--Belongings"--Looking Doubtfully At The Mess On The Floor--"Down To

The Street!"

 

Then He Swiftly Entered Bonnie's Room,  Closing And Fastening The Door

Behind Him.

 

The Said James,  With An Ill-Concealed Grin,  Stooped To His Task; And

Thus,  In Mortification,  Wrath,  And Ignominy,  Did Gila Descend To Her

Waiting Limousine.

Chapter 13 Pg 76

There Were Tears Of Anger On Her Cheeks As She Sat Back Against Her

Cushions; More Tears Fell,  Which,  Regardless Of Her Pearly Complexion,

She Wiped Away With A Cobweb Of A Handkerchief,  While She Sat And Hated

Courtland,  And The Whole Tribe Of College Men,  Her Cousin Bill Ward

Included,  For Getting Her Into A Scrape Like This. Defeat Was A Thing

She Could Not Brook. She Had Never,  Since She Came Out Of Short Frocks,

Been So Defeated In Her Life! But It Should Not Be Defeat! She Would

Take Her Full Revenge For All That Had Happened! Courtland Should Bite

The Dust! She Would Show Him That He Could Not Go Around Picking Up

Stray Beauties And Sending Her After Them To Pet Them For Him.

 

She Did Not Watch For Acquaintances During That Ride Home. She Remained

Behind Drawn Curtains. Arrived At Home,  She Stormed Up To Her Room,

Giving Orders To Her Maid Not To Disturb Her,  And Sat Down Angrily To

Indite An Epistle To Courtland That Should Bring Him To His Knees.

 

Meantime The Doctor And Nurse Worked Silently,  Skilfully Over Bonnie

Until The Weary Eyes Opened Once More,  And A Long-Drawn Sigh Showed That

The Girl Had Come Back To The World.

 

By And By,  When The Doctor Had Gone Out Of The Room And The Nurse Had

Finished Giving Her The Beef-Tea That Had Been Ordered,  Bonnie Raised

Her Eyes. "Would You Mind Finding Out For Me Just What This Room Costs?"

She Asked,  Wearily.

 

The Nurse Had Been Fixing It All Up In Her Mind What She Should Say When

This Question Came. "Why,  I'm Under The Impression You Won't Have To Pay

Anything," She Said,  Pleasantly. "You See,  Sometimes Patients,  When They

Go Out,  Are Kind Of Grateful And Leave A Sort Of Endowment Of A Bed For

A While,  Or Something Like That,  For Cases Just Like Yours,  Where

Strangers Come In For A Few Days And Need Quiet--Real Quiet That They

Can't Get In The Ward,  You Know. I Believe Some One Paid Something For

This Room In Some Kind Of A Way Like That. I Guess The Doctor Thought

You Would Get Well Quicker If You Had It Quiet,  So He Put You In Here.

You Needn't Worry A Bit About It."

 

Bonnie Smiled. "Would You Mind Making Sure?" She Asked. "I'd Like To

Know Just What I Owe. I Have A Little Money,  You Know."

 

The Nurse Nodded And Slipped Away To Whisper The Story To The Grave

Doctor,  Who Grew More Indignant And Contemptuous Than He Had Been To

Gila,  And Sent Her Promptly Back With An Answer.

 

"You Don't Have To Pay A Cent," She Said,  Cheerfully,  As She Returned.

"This Bed Is Endowed Temporarily,  The Doctor Says,  To Be Used At His

Discretion,  And He Wants To Keep You Here Till Some One Comes Who Needs

This Room More Than You Do. At Present There Isn't Any One,  So You

Needn't Worry. We Are Not Going To Let Any More Little Feather-Headed

Spitfires In To See You,  Either. The Doctor Balled The Office Out Like

Everything For Letting That Girl Up."

 

Bonnie Tried To Smile Again,  But Only Ended In A Sigh. "Oh,  It Doesn't

Matter," She Said,  And Then,  After A Minute,  "You've Been Very Good To

Chapter 13 Pg 77

Me. Some Time I Hope I Can Do Something For You. Now I'm Going To

Sleep."

 

The Nurse Went Out To Look After Some Of Her Duties. Half An Hour Later

She Came Back To Bonnie's Room And Entered Softly,  Not To Waken Her. She

Was Worried Lest She Had Left The Window Open Too Wide And The Wind

Might Be Blowing On Her,  For It Had Turned A Good Deal Colder Since The

Sun Went Down.

 

She Tiptoed To The Bed And Bent Over In The Dim Light To See If Her

Patient Was All Right. Then She Drew Back Sharply.

 

The Bed Was Empty!

 

She Turned On The Light And Looked All Around. There Was No One Else In

The Room! Bonnie Was Gone!

 

Chapter 14 Pg 78

 

Wildly The Nurse Searched The Room,  Throwing Open The Wardrobe First!

Bonnie's Shabby Clothes Were No Longer Hanging On The Hooks! She Rushed

To The Window And Looked Helplessly Along The Fire-Escape Out Into The

Courtyard Below,  Where The Ambulance Was Just Bringing In A Fresh Case.

There Was No Sign Of Her Patient. Turning Back,  She Saw On The Table A

Bit Of Paper From The Daily Record-Sheet Folded Up And Pinned Together

With A Quaint Little Circle Of Old-Fashioned Gold In Which Were Set Tiny

Garnets And Pearls. The Note Was Addressed,  "Miss Writroversy Between Bolsheviki And Mensheviki.

 

In The Mean Time The War-Weary Nation Was Clamoring For Peace. The Army Was

Demoralized And Saturated With The Defeatism Preached By The Porazhentsi.

To Deal With This Grave Situation Two Important Conventions Were Arranged

For,  As Follows: The Convention Of Soldiers' Delegates From The Front,

Which Opened On May 10th And Lasted For About A Week,  And The First

All-Russian Congress Of Peasants' Delegates,  Which Opened On May 17th And

Lasted For About Twelve Days. Between The Two Gatherings There Was Also An

Important Meeting Of The Petrograd Council Of Workmen's And Soldiers'

Deputies,  Which Dealt With The Same Grave Situation. The Dates Here Are Of

The Greatest Significance: The First Convention Was Opened Three Days

Before Miliukov's Resignation And Was In Session When That Event Occurred;

Chapter 14 Pg 79

The Second Convention Was Opened Four Days After The Resignation Of

Miliukov And One Day After That Of Guchkov. It Was Guchkov's Unique

Experience To Address The Convention Of Soldiers' Delegates From The Front

As Minister Of War And Marine,  Explaining And Defending His Policy With

Great Ability,  And Then,  Some Days Later,  To Address The Same Assembly As A

Private Citizen.

 

Guchkov Drew A Terrible Picture Of The Seriousness Of The Military

Situation. With Truly Amazing Candor He Described Conditions And Explained

How They Had Been Brought About. He Begged The Soldiers Not To Lay Down

Their Arms,  But To Fight With New Courage. Kerensky Followed With A Long

Speech,  Noble And Full Of Pathos. In Some Respects,  It Was The Most

Powerful Of All The Appeals It Fell To His Lot To Make To His People,  Who

Were Staggering In The Too Strong Sunlight Of An Unfamiliar Freedom. He

Did Not Lack Courage To Speak Plainly: "My Heart And Soul Are Uneasy. I Am

Greatly Worried And I Must Say So Openly,  No Matter What ... The

Consequences Will Be. The Process Of Resurrecting The Country's Creative

Forces For The Purpose Of Establishing The New Régime Rests On The Basis Of

Liberty And Personal Responsibility.... A Century Of Slavery Has Not Only

Demoralized The Government And Transformed The Old Officials Into A Band Of

Traitors,  _But It Has Also Destroyed In The People Themselves The

Consciousness Of Their Responsibility For Their Fate,  Their Country's

Destiny_." It Was In This Address That He Cried Out In His Anguish: "I

Regret That I Did Not Die Two Months Ago. I Would Have Died Happy With The

Dream That The Flame Of A New Life Has Been Kindled In Russia,  Hopeful Of A

Time When We Could Respect One Another's Right Without Resorting To The

Knout."

 

To The Soldiers Kerensky Brought This Challenge: "You Fired On The People

When The Government Demanded. But Now,  When It Comes To Obeying Your Own

Revolutionary Government,  You Can No Longer Endure Further Sacrifice! Does

This Mean That Free Russia Is A Nation Of Rebellious Slaves?" He Closed

With An Eloquent Peroration: "I Came Here Because I Believe In My Right To

Tell The Truth As I Understand It. People Who Even Under The Old Régime

Went About Their Work Openly And Without Fear Of Death,  Those People,  I

Say,  Will Not Be Terrorized. The Fate Of Our Country Is In Our Hands And

The Country Is In Great Danger. We Have Sipped Of The Cup Of Liberty And We

Are Somewhat Intoxicated; We Are In Need Of The Greatest Possible Sobriety

And Discipline. We Must Go Down In History Meriting The Epitaph On Our

Tombstones,  'They Died,  But They Were Never Slaves.'"

 

From The Petrograd Council Of Workmen's And Soldiers' Deputies Came I.G.

Tseretelli,  Who Had Just Returned From Ten Years' Siberian Exile. A Native

Of Georgia,  A Prince,  Nearly Half Of His Forty-Two Years Had Been Spent

Either In Socialist Service Or In Exile Brought About By Such Service. A

Man Of Education,  Wise In Leadership And A Brilliant Orator,  His Leadership

Chapter 14 Pg 80

Of The Socialist Group In The Second Duma Had Marked Him As One Of The

Truly Great Men Of Russia. To The Convention Of Soldiers' Delegates From

The Front Tseretelli Brought The Decisionl Of Workmen's And

Soldiers' Deputies,  In Shaping Which He Had Taken An Important Part With

Tchcheidze,  Skobelev,  And Others. The Council Had Decided "To Send An

Appeal To The Soldiers At The Front,  And To Explain To Them That _In Order

To Bring About Universal Peace It Is Necessary To Defend The Revolution And

Russia By Defending The Front_." This Action Had Been Taken Despite The

Opposition Of The Bolsheviki,  And Showed That The Moderate Socialists Were

Still In Control Of The Soviet. An Appeal To The Army,  Drawn Up By

Tseretelli,  Was Adopted By The Vote Of Every Member Except The Bolsheviki,

Who Refrained From Voting. This Appeal To The Army Tseretelli Presented To

The Soldiers' Delegates From The Front:

 

    Comrades,  Soldiers At The Front,  In The Name Of The Revolutionary

    Democracy,  We Make A Fervent Appeal To You.

 

    A Hard Task Has Fallen To Your Lot. You Have Paid A Dear Price,

    You Have Paid With Your Blood,  A Dear Price Indeed,  For The Crimes

    Of The Czar Who Sent You To Fight And Left You Without Arms,

    Without Ammunition,  Without Bread!

 

    Why,  The Privation You Now Suffer Is The Work Of The Czar And His

    Coterie Of Self-Seeking Associates Who Brought The Country To

    Ruin. And The Revolution Will Need The Efforts Of Many To Overcome

    The Disorganization Left Her As A Heritage By These Robbers And

    Executioners.

 

    The Working Class Did Not Need The War. The Workers Did Not Begin

    It. It Was Started By The Czars And Capitalists Of All Countries.

    Each Day Of War Is For The People Only A Day Of Unnecessary

    Suffering And Misfortune. Having Dethroned The Czar,  The Russian

    People Have Selected For Their First Problem The Ending Of The War

    In The Quickest Possible Manner.

 

    The Council Of Workmen's And Soldiers' Deputies Has Appealed To

    All Nations To End The Butchery. We Have Appealed To The French

    And The English,  To The Germans And The Austrians.[18] Russia

    Wants An Answer To This Appeal. Remember,  However,  Comrades And

    Soldiers,  That Our Appeal Will Be Of No Value If The Regiments Of

    Wilhelm Overpower Revolutionary Russia Before Our Brothers,  The

    Workers And Peasants Of Other Countries,  Will Be Able To Respond.

    Our Appeal Will Become "A Scrap Of Paper" If The Whole Strength Of

    The Revolutionary People Does Not Stand Behind It,  If The Triumph

    Of Wilhelm Hohenzollern Will Be Established On The Ruins Of

    Russian Freedom. The Ruin Of Free Russia Will Be A Tremendous,

    Irreparable Misfortune,  Not Only For Us,  But For The Toilers Of

    The Whole World.

Chapter 14 Pg 81

    Comrades,  Soldiers,  Defend Revolutionary Russia With All Your

    Might!

 

    The Workers And Peasants Of Russia Desire Peace With All Their

    Soul. But This Peace Must Be Universal,  A Peace For All Nations

    Based On The Agreement Of All.

 

    What Would Happen If We Should Agree To A Separate Peace--A Peace

    For Ourselves Alone! What Would Happen If The Russian Soldiers

    Were To Stick Their Bayonets Into The Ground To-Day And Say That

    They Do Not Care To Fight Any Longer,  That It Makes No Difference

    To Them What Happens To The Whole World!

 

    Here Is What Would Happen. Having Destroyed Our Allies In The

    West,  German Imperialism Would Rush In Upon Us With All The Force

    Of Its Arms. Germany's Imperialists,  Her Landowners And

    Capitalists,  Would Put An Iron Heel On Our Necks,  Would Occupy Our

    Cities,  Our Villages,  And Our Land,  And Would Force Us To Pay

    Tribute To Her. Was It To Bow Down At The Feet Of Wilhelm That We

    Overthrew Nicholas?

 

    Comrades--Soldiers! The Council Of Workmen's And Soldiers'

    Deputies Leads You To Peace By Another Route. We Lead You To Peace

    By Calling Upon The Workers And Peasants Of Serbia And Austria To

    Rise And Revolt; We Lead You To Peace By Calling An International

    Conference Of Socialists For A Universal And Determined Revolt

    Against War. There Is A Great Necessity,  Comrades--Soldiers,  For

    The Peoples Of The World To Awaken. Time Is Needed In Order That

    They Should Rebel And With An Iron Hand Force Their Czars And

    Capitalists To Peace. Time Is Needed So That The Toilers Of All

    Lands Should Join With Us For A Merciless War Upon Violators And

    Robbers.

 

    _But Remember,  Comrades--Soldiers,  This Time Will Never Come If

    You Do Not Stop The Advance Of The Enemy At The Front,  If Your

    Ranks Are Crushed And Under The Feet Of Wilhelm Falls The

    Breathless Corpse Of The Russian Revolution_.

 

    Remember,  Comrades,  That At The Front,  In The Trenches,  You Are

    Now Standing In Defense Of Russia's Freedom. You Defend The

    Revolution,  You Defend Your Brothers,  The Workers And Peasants.

    Let This Defense Be Worthy Of The Great Cause And The Great

    Sacrifices Already Made By You. _It Is Impossible To Defend The

    Front If,  As Has Been Decided,  The Soldiers Are Not To Leave The

    Trenches Under Any Circumstances_.[19] At Times Only An Attack Can

    Repulse And Prevent The Advance Of The Enemy. At Times Awaiting An

    Attack Means Patiently Waiting For Death. Again,  Only The Change

    To An Advance May Save You Or Your Brothers,  On Other Sections Of

    The Front,  From Destruction.

 

 

 

Chapter 14 Pg 82

    Remember This,  Comrades--Soldiers! Having Sworn To Defend Russian

    Freedom,  Do Not Refuse To Start The Offensive The Military

    Situation May Require. The Freedom And Happiness Of Russia Are In

    Your Hands.

 

    In Defending This Freedom Be On The Lookout For Betrayal And

    Trickery. The Fraternization Which Is Developing On The Front Can

    Easily Turn Into Such A Trap.

 

    Revolutionary Armies May Fraternize,  But With Whom? With An Army

    Also Revolutionary,  Which Has Decided To Die For Peace And

    Freedom. At Present,  However,  Not Only In The German Army,  But

    Even In The Austro-Hungarian Army,  In Spite Of The Number Of

    Individuals Politically Conscious And Honest,  There Is No

    Revolution. In Those Countries The Armies Are Still Blindly

    Following Wilhelm And Charles,  The Landowners And Capitalists,  And

    Agree To Annexation Of Foreign Soil,  To Robberies And Violence.

    There The General Staff Will Make Use Not Only Of Your Credulity,

    But Also Of The Blind Obedience Of Their Soldiers. You Go Out To

    Fraternize With Open Hearts. And To Meet You An Officer Of The

    General Staff Leaves The Enemies' Trenches,  Disguised As A Common

    Soldier. You Speak With The Enemy Without Any Trickery. At That

    Very Time He Photographs The Surrounding Territory. You Stop The

    Shooting To Fraternize,  But Behind The Enemies' Trenches Artillery

    Is Being Moved,  New Positions Built And Troops Transferred.

 

    Comrades--Soldiers,  Not By Fraternization Will You Get Peace,  Not

    By Separate Agreements Made At The Front By Single Companies,

    Battalions,  Or Regiments. Not In Separate Peace Or In A Separate

    Truce Lies The Salvation Of The Russian Revolution,  The Triumph Of

    Peace For The Whole World.

 

    The People Who Assure You That Fraternizing Is The Road To Peace

    Lead You To Destruction. Do Not Believe Them. The Road To Peace Is

    A Different One. It Has Been Pointed Out To You Already By The

    Council Of Workmen's And Soldiers' Deputies: Tread It. Sweep Aside

    Everything That Weakens Your Fighting Power,  That Brings Into The

    Army Disorganization And Loss Of Spirit.

 

    Your Fighting Power Serves The Cause Of Peace. The Council Of

    Workmen's And Soldiers' Deputies Is Able To Continue Its

    Revolutionary Work With All Its Might,  To Develop Its Struggle For

    Peace,  Only By Depending On You,  Knowing That You Will Not Allow

    The Military Destruction Of Russia.

 

    Comrades--Soldiers,  The Workers And Peasants,  Not Only Of Russia,

    But Of The Whole World,  Look To You With Confidence And Hope.

 

    Soldiers Of The Revolution,  You Will Prove Worthy Of This Faith,

    For You Know That Your Military Tasks Serve The Cause Of Peace.

 

    In The Name Of The Hoping,  Perhaps,  For No Kindlier Hands To Greet Her

Chapter 14 Pg 83

Than Those That Had Been Withheld From Her In This World! What Would The

Resurrection Mean To A Poor Little Soul Like That? What Could It Mean?

Ah! Perhaps It Had Not All Been Her Fault! Perhaps There Were Others Who

Had Helped Push Her Down,  Smug In Self-Righteousness,  To Whom The

Resurrection Would Be More Of A Horror Than To The Pretty,  Ignorant

Child Whose Untaught Feet Had Strayed Into Forbidden Paths! Who Knew? He

Was Glad To Look Up And Feel The Presence There! Who Knew What Might

Have Passed Between The Soul And God? It Was Safe To Leave That Little

Sinful Soul With Him Who Had Died To Save. It Was Good To Go Out From

There Knowing That The Pretty,  Sinful Girl,  The Hardened,  Grizzled Sot,

The Poor Old Toothless Crone,  The Little Hunchback Newsboy Who Lay In

The Same Row,  Were Guarded Alike And Beloved By The Same Presence That

Would Go With Him.

 

Around The Little Newsboy Huddled A Group Of Street Gamins,  Counting Out

Their Few Pennies,  And Talking Excitedly Of How They Would Buy Him Some

Flowers. There Were Tear-Stains Down Their Grimy Cheeks And It Was Plain

They Were Pitying Him,  They Who Had Perhaps Yet To Tread The Paths Of

Sin And Deprivation And Sorrow For Many Long Years. And The Presence

There! So Near Them,  With The Pitying Eyes! The Young Man Knew The Eyes

Were Pitying! If The Children Could Only See! He Felt An Impulse To Turn

Back And Tell Them As He Passed Out Into The Street,  Yet How Could He

Make Them Understand--He Who Understood So Feebly And Intermittently

Himself? He Felt A Great Ache In Himself To Go Out And Shout To All The

World To Look Up And See The Presence That Was In Their Midst,  And They

Saw Him Not!

 

He Was Entirely Aware That His Present Mental State Would Have Seemed To

Him Little Short Of Insanity Twenty-Four Hours Before; That It Might

Pass Again As It Had Done Before; And A Kind Of Mental Frenzy Seized Him

Lest It Would. He Did Not Want To Lose This Assurance Of One Guiding

Through A World That Was So Full Of Sorrow As This One Had Recently

Revealed Itself To Him To Be. And With The World-Old Anguished "Give Me

A Sign!" The Cry Of The Soul Reaching Out To The Unknown,  He Spoke Aloud

Once More: "God,  If You Are Really There,  Let Me Find Her!"

 

And Yet If Any Had Asked Him Just Then If He Ever Prayed He Would Have

Told Them No. Prayer Was To Him A Thing Utterly Apart From This Cry Of

His Soul,  This Longing For An Understanding With God.

 

He Walked On Through Streets He Did Not Know,  Passing Men And Women With

Worn And Haggard Faces,  Tattered Garments,  And Discouraged Mien; And

Always That Cry Came In His Soul,  "Oh,  If They Only Knew!" There Was The

Presence By His Side,  And Men Passed By And Saw Him Not!

 

He Was Walking In The General Direction Of The Good Samaritan Hospital,

Just As Any One Would Walk With A Friend Through A Strange Place And

Accommodate His Going To The Man Who Was Guiding Him. All The Way There

Seemed To Be A Sort Of Intercourse Between Himself And His Companion.

His Soul Was Putting Forth Great Questions That He Would Some Day Take

Up In Detail And Go Over Little By Little,  As One Will Verify A Problem

That One Has Worked Out. But Now He Was Working It Out,  Becoming

Satisfied In His Soul That This Was The Only Way To Solve The Great

Otherwise Unanswerable Problems Of The Universe.

Chapter 14 Pg 84

 

They Had Gone For Perhaps Three Miles Or More From The Morgue,  Traveling

For The Most Part Through Narrow Streets Crowded Full Of Small

Dwelling-Houses Interspersed By Cheap Stores And Saloons. The Night

Lowered! The Stars Were Not On Duty. A Cold Wind From The River Swept

Around Corners,  Reminding Him Of The Dripping Yellow Hair Of The Girl In

The Morgue. It Cut Like A Knife Through Courtland's Heavy Overcoat And

Made Him Wish He Had Brought His Muffler. He Stuffed His Gloved Hands

Into His Pockets. Even In Their Fur Linings They Were Stiff And Cold. He

Thought Of The Girl's Little Light Serge Jacket And Shivered Visibly As

They Turned Into Another Street Where Vacant Lots On One Side Left A

Wide Sweep For The Wind And Sent It Tempesting Along Freighted With Dust

And Stinging Bits Of Sand. The Clouds Were Heavy As With Snow,  Only That

It Was Too Cold To Snow. One Fancied Only Biting Steel Could Fall From

Clouds Like That On A Night So Bitter. And Any Moment He Might Have

Turned Back,  Gone A Block To One Side,  And Caught The Trolley Across To

The University,  Where Light And Warmth And Friends Were Waiting. And

What Was This One Little Lost Girl To Him? A Stranger? No,  She Was No

Longer A Stranger! She Had Become Something Infinitely Precious To The

Whole Universe. God Cared,  And That Was Enough! He Could Not Be A Friend

Of God Unless He Cared As God Cared! He Was Demonstrating Facts That He

Had Never Apprehended Before.

 

The Lights Were Out In Most Of The Houses That They Passed,  For It Was

Growing Late. There Were Not Quite So Many Saloons. The Streets Loomed

Wide Ahead,  The Line Of Houses Dark On The Left,  And The Stretch Of

Vacant Lots,  With The River Beyond On The Right. Across The River A

Line Of Dark Buildings With Occasional Blink Of Lights Blended Into The

Dark Of The Sky,  And The Wind Merciless Over All.

 

On Ahead A Couple Of Blocks The Light Flung Out On The Pavement And

Marked Another Saloon. Bright Doors Swung Back And Forth. The

Intermittent Throb Of A Piano And Twang Of A Violin,  Making Merry With

The Misery Of The World; Voices Brokenly Above It All Came At Intervals,

Loudly As The Way Drew Nearer.

 

The Saloon Doors Swung Again And Four Or Five Dark Figures Jostled

Noisily Out And Came Haltingly Down The Street. They Walked Crazily,

Like Ships Without A Rudder,  Veering From One Side Of The Walk To The

Other,  Shouting And Singing Uncouth,  Ribald Songs,  Hoarse Laughter

Interspersed With Scattered Oaths.

 

"O! Jesus Christ!" Came Distinctly Through The Quiet Night. The Young

Man Felt A Distinct Pain For The Christ By His Side,  Like The Pressing

Of A Thorn Into The Brow. He Seemed To Know The Prick Himself. For These

Were Some Of Those For Whom He Died!

 

It Occurred To Courtland That He Was Seeing Everything On This Walk

Through The Eyes Of The Christ. He Remembered Scrooge And His Journey

With The Ghost Of Christmas Past In Dickens's _Christmas Carol_. It Was

Like That. He Was Seeing The Real Soul Of Everybody! He Was With The

Architect Of The Universe,  Noting Where The Work Had Gone Wrong From The

Mighty Plans. He Suddenly Knew That These Creatures Coming Giddily

Toward Him Were Planned To Mighty Things!

Chapter 14 Pg 85

The Figures Paused Before One Of The Dark Houses,  Pointed And Laughed;

Went Nearer To The Steps And Stooped. He Could Not Hear What They Were

Saying; The Voices Were Hushed In Ugly Whispers,  Broken By Harsh

Laughter. Only Now And Then He Caught A Syllable.

 

"Wake Up!" Floated Out Into The Silence Once. And Again,  "No,  You Don't,

My Pretty Little Chicken!"

 

Then A Girl's Scream Pierced The Night And Something Darted Out From The

Darkness Of The Door-Step,  Eluding The Drunken Men,  But Slipped And

Fell!

 

Courtland Broke Into A Noiseless Run.

 

The Men Had Scrambled Tipsily After The Girl And Clutched Her. They

Lifted Her Unsteadily And Surrounded Her. She Screamed Again,  And Dashed

This Way And That Blindly,  But They Met Her Every Time And Held Her.

 

Courtland Knew,  As By A Flash,  That He Had Been Brought Here For This

Crisis. It Was As If He Had Heard The Words Spoken To Him,  "Now Go!" He,

Lowering His Head And Crouching,  Came Swiftly Forward,  Watching

Carefully Where He Steered,  And Coming Straight At Two Of The Men With

His Powerful Shoulders. It Was An Old Trick Of The Football Field And It

Bowled The Two Assailants On The Right Straight Out Into The Gutter. The

Other Three Made A Dash At Him,  But He Side-Stepped One And Tripped Him;

A Blow On The Point Of The Chin Sent Another Sprawling On The Sidewalk;

But The Last One,  Who Was Perhaps The Most Sober Of Them All,  Showed

Fight And Called To His Comrades To Come On And Get This Stranger Who

Was Trying To Steal Their Girl. The Language He Used Made Courtland's

Blood Boil. He Struck The Fellow Across His Foul Mouth,  And Then

Clenching With Him,  Went Down Upon The Sidewalk. His Antagonist Was A

Heavier Man Than He Was,  But The Steady Brain And The Trained Muscles

Had The Better Of It From The First,  And In A Moment More The Drunken

Man Was Choking And Limp.

 

Courtland Rose And Looked About. The Two Fellows In The Gutter Were

Struggling To Their Feet With Loud Threats,  And The Fellow On The

Sidewalk Was Staggering Toward Him. They Would Be Upon The Girl Again In

A Moment. He Looked Toward Her,  As She Stood Trembling A Few Feet Away

From Him,  Too Frightened To Try To Run,  Not Daring To Leave Her

Protector. A Street Light Fell Directly Upon Her White Face. It Was

Bonnie Brentwood!

 

With A Kick At The Man On The Ground Who Was Trying To Rise,  And A Lurch

At The Man On The Sidewalk Who Was Coming Toward Him That Sent Him

Spinning Again,  Courtland Dived Under The Clutching Hands Of The Two In

The Gutter Who Couldn't Quite Make It To Get Upon The Curb Again.

Snatching Up The Girl Like A Baby,  He Fled Up The Street And Around The

First Corner,  And All That Cursing,  Drunken,  Reeling Five Came Howling

After!

 

 

 

Chapter 15 Pg 86

 

Courtland Had Run Three Blocks And Turned Two Corners Before He Dared

Stop And Set The Girl Upon Her Feet Again. He Looked Anxiously At Her

White Face And Great,  Frightened Eyes. Her Lips Were Trembling And She

Was Shivering. He Tore His Overcoat Off,  Wrapped It About Her,  And

Before She Could Protest Caught Her Up Again And Ran On Another Block Or

Two.

 

"Oh,  You Must Not!" She Cried. "I Can Walk Perfectly Well,  And I Don't

Need Your Coat. Please,  Please Put On Your Coat And Let Me Walk! You

Will Take A Terrible Cold!"

 

"I Can Run Better Without It," He Explained,  Briefly,  "And We Can Get

Out Of The Way Of Those Fellows Quicker This Way!"

 

So She Lay Still In His Arms Till He Put Her Down Again. He Looked Up

And Down Either Way,  Hoping To See The Familiar Red-And-Green Lights Of

A Drug-Store Open Late; But None Greeted Him; All The Buildings Seemed

To Be Residences.

 

Somewhere In The Distance He Heard The Whir Of A Late Trolley. He

Glanced At His Watch. It Was Half Past One. If Only A Taxicab Would Come

Along. But No Taxi Was In Sight. The Girl Was Begging Him To Put On His

Overcoat. She Had Drawn It From Her Own Shoulders And Was Holding It Out

To Him Insistently. But With The Rare Smile That Courtland Was Noted For

He Took The Coat And Wrapped It Firmly About Her Shoulders Again,  This

Time Putting Her Arms In The Sleeves And Buttoning It Up To The Chin.

 

"Now," Said He,  "You're Not To Take That Off Again Until We Get Where It

Is Warm. You Needn't Worry About Me. I'm Quite Used To Going Out In All

Weathers Without My Coat As Often As With It. Besides,  I've Been

Exercising. When Did You Have Something To Eat?"

 

"When I Left The Hospital This Evening. I Had Some Strong Beef-Tea," She

Answered,  Airily,  As If That Had Been Only A Few Minutes Before.

 

"How Did You Happen To Be Where I Found You?" He Asked,  Looking At Her

Keenly.

 

"Why,  I Must Have Missed My Way,  I Think," She Explained,  "And I Felt A

Little Weak From Having Been In Bed So Long. I Just Sat Down On A

Door-Step To Rest A Minute Before I Went On,  And I'm Afraid I Must Have

Fallen Asleep."

Chapter 15 Pg 87

"You Were _Walking_?" His Tone Was Stern. "Why Were You Walking?"

 

A Desperate Look Came Into Her Face. "Well,  I Hadn't Any Car Fare,  If

You Must Know The Reason."

 

They Were Passing A Street Light As She Said It,  And He Looked Down At

Her Fine Little White Profile In Wonder And Awe. He Felt A Sudden

Choking In His Throat And A Mist In His Eyes. He Had It On The Tip Of

His Tongue To Say,  "You Poor Little Girl!" But Instead He Said,  In A

Tone Of Intense Admiration:

 

"Well,  You Certainly Are The Pluckiest Girl I Ever Saw! You Have Your

Nerve With You All Right! But You're Not Going To Walk Another Step

To-Night!"

 

And With That He Stooped,  Gathered Her Up Again,  And Strode Forward. He

Could Hear The Distant Whir Of Another Trolley,  And He Determined To

Take It,  No Matter Which Way It Was Going. It Would Take Them Somewhere

And He Could Telephone For An Ambulance. So He Sprinted Forward,

Regardless Of Her Protests,  And Arrived At The Next Corner Just In Time

To Catch The Car Going Cityward.

 

There Was Nobody Else In The Car And He Made Her Keep The Coat About

Her. He Couldn't Help Seeing How Worn And Thin Her Little Shabby Shoes

Were,  And How She Shivered Now Even In The Great Coat. He Saw She Was

Just Keeping Up Her Nerve,  And He Was Filled With Admiration.

 

"Why Did You Run Away From The Hospital?" He Asked,  Suddenly,  Looking

Straight Into Her Sad Eyes.

 

"I Couldn't Afford To Stay Any Longer."

 

"You Made A Big Mistake. It Wouldn't Have Cost You A Cent. That Room Was

Free. I Made Sure Of That Before I Secured It For You."

 

"But That Was A Private Room!"

 

"Just A Little More Private Than The Wards. That Room Was Paid For And

Put At The Disposal Of The Doctor To Use For Whoever He Thought Needed

Quiet. Now Are You Satisfied? And You Are Going Straight Back There Till

You Are Well Enough To Go Out Again! You Raised A Big Row In The

Hospital,  Running Away. They've Had The Whole Force Of Assistants Out

Hunting You For Hours,  And Your Nurse Is Awfully Upset About You. She

Seems To Be Crazy Over You,  Anyway. She Nearly Wept When She Telephoned

Me. And I've Been Out For Hours Hunting You,  Stirred Up The Old Lady On

Your Floor At Your Home,  And A Lot Of Hospitals And Other Places,  And

Then Just Came On You In The Nick Of Time. I Hope You've Learned Your

Lesson,  To Be A Good Little Girl After This And Not Run Away."

 

He Smiled Indulgently,  But The Girl's Eyes Were Full Of Tears.

 

"I Didn't Mean To Make All That Trouble For People. Why Should You All

Care About A Stranger? But,  Oh! I'm So Thankful You Came! Those Men

Chapter 15 Pg 88

Were Terrible!" She Shuddered. "How Did You Happen To Come There? I

Think God Must Have Led You."

 

"He Did!" Said Courtland,  With Conviction.

 

When They Reached The Big City Station He Stowed His Patient Into A Taxi

And Sent A Messenger Up To The Restaurant For Hot Chicken Broth,  Which

He Administered Himself.

 

She Lay Back With Her Eyes Closed After The Broth Was Finished. He

Realized That She Had Reached The Full Limit Of Her Endurance. She Had

Forgotten Even To Protest Against Wearing His Overcoat Any Longer.

 

It Was A Strange Ride. The Silent Girl Sat Closely Wrapped In Her

Corner,  Fast Asleep. The Car Bounded Over Obstacles Now And Then,  Or

Swung Around Corners And Threw Her About Like A Ball,  But She Did Not

Waken; And Finally Courtland Drew Her Head Down Upon His Shoulder And

Put His Arm About Her To Keep Her From Being Thrown Out Of Her Seat; And

She Settled Down Like A Tired Child. He Could Not Help Thinking Of That

Other Girl Lying Stark And Dead In The Morgue,  And Being Glad That This

One Was Safe.

 

Nurse Wright Was Hovering About The Hallway When The Taxi Drew Up To The

Entrance Of The Hospital,  And Bonnie Was Tenderly Cared For At Once.

 

Courtland Began To Realize That This Great Hospital Was An Evidence Of

The Presence Of Christ In The World! He Was Not The Only One Who Had

Felt The Presence. Some One Moved As He Had Been To-Night Had

Established This Big House Of Healing. There On The Opposite Wall Was A

Great Stained-Glass Window Representing Christ Blessing The Little

Children,  And The People Bringing The Maimed And Halt And Lame And Blind

To Him For Healing.

 

The Quiet Night Routine Went On About Him; The Strong,  Pervasive Odor Of

Antiseptics; The Padded Tap Of The Nurses' Rubber Soles As They Went

Softly On Their Rounds; The Occasional Click Of A Glass And A Spoon

Somewhere; The Piteous Wail Of A Suffering Child In A Distant Ward; The

Sharp Whir Of An Electric Bell; The Homely Thud Of The Elevator On Its

Errands Up And Down; Even The Controlled Yet Ready Spring To Service Of

All Concerned When The Ambulance Rolled Up And A Man On A Stretcher,

With A Ghastly Cut In His Head And Face,  Was Brought In; All Made Him

Feel How Little And Useless His Life Had Been Hitherto. How Suddenly He

Had Been Brought Face To Face With Realities!

 

He Began To Wonder If The Presence Was Everywhere,  Or If There Were

Places Where His Power Was Not Manifest. There Had Been The Red Library!

There Also Had Been That Church Last Sunday.

 

The Office Clock Chimed Softly Out The Hour Of Three O'clock. It Was

Sunday Morning. Should He Go To Church Again And Search For The

Presence,  Or Make Up His Mind That The Churches Were Out Of It Entirely

And That It Was Only In Places Of Need And Sorrow And Suffering That He

Came? Still,  That Was Not Fair To The Churches,  Perhaps,  To Judge All By

Chapter 15 Pg 89

One. What An Experience The Night Had Been! Did Wittemore,  Majoring In

Philanthropy,  Ever Spend Nights Like This? If So,  There Must Be Depths

To Wittemore's Nature That Were Worth Sounding.

 

He Drew His Handkerchief From His Inner Pocket,  And As He Did So A Whiff

Of Violets Came Remindingly,  But He Paid No Heed. Gila's Letter Lay In

His Pocket,  Still Unread. The Antiseptics Were At Work Upon His Senses

And The Violets Could Not Reach Him.

 

There Were Dark Circles Under His Eyes,  And His Hair Was In A Tumble,

But He Looked Good To Nurse Wright As She Came Down The Hall At Last To

Give Him Her Report. She Almost Thought He Was Good Enough For Her

Bonnie Girl Now. She Wasn't Given To Romances,  But She Felt That Bonnie

Needed One Most Mightily About Now.

 

"She Didn't Wake Up Except To Open Her Eyes And Smile Once," She

Reported,  Reassuringly. "She Coughs A Little Now And Then,  With A Nasty

Sound In It,  But I Hope We Can Ward Off Pneumonia. It Was Great Of You

To Put Your Overcoat Around Her. That Saved Her,  If Anything Can,  I

Guess. You Look Pretty Well Used Up Yourself. Wouldn't You Like The

Doctor To Give You Something Before You Go Home?"

 

"No,  Thank You. I'll Be All Right. I'm Hard As Nails. I'm Only Anxious

About Her. You See,  She's Had A Pretty Tough Pull Of It. She Started To

Walk To The City! Did You Know That? I Fancy She'd Gone About Two Miles.

It Was Somewhere Along Near The River I Found Her. It Seems She Got "All

In" And Sat Down On A Door-Step To Rest. She Must Have Fallen Asleep.

Some Tough Fellows Came Out Of A Saloon--They Were Full,  Of Course--And

They Discovered Her. I Heard Her Scream,  And We Had Quite A Little

Scuffle Before We Got Away. She's A Nervy Little Girl. Think Of Her

Starting To Walk To The City At That Time Of Night,  Without A Cent In

Her Pocket!"

 

"The Poor Child!" Said Nurse Wright,  With Tears In Her Kind,  Keen Eyes.

"And She Left Her Last Cent Here To Pay For Her Room! My! When I Think

Of It I Could Choke That Smart Young Snob That Called On Her In The

Afternoon! You Ought To Have Heard Her Sneers And Her Insinuations.

Women Like That Are A Blight On Womanhood! And She Dared To Mention Your

Name--Said You Had Sent Her!"

 

The Color Heightened In Courtland's Face. He Felt Uncomfortable. "Why,

I--Didn't Exactly Send Her," He Began,  Uneasily. "I Don't Really Know

Her Very Well. You See,  I'm Just A Student At The University And Of

Course I Don't Know A Great Many Girls In The City. I Thought It Would

Be Nice If Some Girl Would Call On Miss Brentwood; She Seemed So Alone.

I Thought Another Girl Would Understand And Be Able To Comfort Her."

 

"She Isn't A _Girl_,  That's What's The Matter With Her; She's A Little

_Demon_!" Snapped The Nurse. "You Meant Well,  And I Dare Say She Never

Showed _You_ The Demon Side Of Her. Girls Like That Don't--To Young

_Men_. But If You Take My Advice You Won't Have Anything More To Do With

_Her_! She Isn't Worth It! She May Be Rich And Fashionable And All That,

But She Can't Hold A Candle To Miss Brentwood! If You Had Just Heard How

She Went On,  With Her Nasty Little Chin In The Air And Her Nasty Phrases

Chapter 15 Pg 90

And Insinuations,  And Her Patronage! And Then Miss Brentwood's Gentle,

Refined Way Of Answering Her! But Never Mind,  I Won't Go Into That! It

Might Take Me All Night,  And I've Got To Go Back To My Patient. But You

Are Not To Blame Yourself One Particle. I Hope Miss Brentwood's Going To

Get Through This All Right In A Few Days,  And She'll Probably Have

Forgotten All About It,  So Don't You Worry. I Think It Would Be A Good

Thing If You Were To Come In And See Her To-Morrow Afternoon A Few

Minutes. It Might Cheer Her Up. You Really Have Been Fine,  You Know! No

Telling Where She Might Have Been By This Time If You Hadn't Gone Out

After Her!"

 

The Young Man Shuddered Involuntarily,  And Thought Of The Faces Of The

Five Young Fellows Who Had Surrounded Her.

 

"I Saw A Little Girl In The Morgue To-Night,  Drowned!" He Said,

Irrelevantly. "She Wasn't Any Older Than Miss Brentwood."

 

The Nurse Gave An Understanding Look. On Her Way Back To Her Rounds She

Said To Herself: "I Believe He's A _Real Man_! If I Hadn't Thought So I

Wouldn't Have Told Him He Might Come And See Her To-Morrow!"

 

Then She Went Into Bonnie's Room,  Took The Letter With The Western

Postmark,  And Stood It Up Against A Medicine-Glass On The Little Table

Beside The Bed,  Where Bonnie Could See It The First Thing When She

Opened Her Eyes.

Chapter 16 Pg 91

A Little After Four O'clock,  When Courtland Came Plodding Up The Hall Of

The Dormitory To His Room,  A Head Was Stuck Out Of Tennelly's Door,

Followed By Tennelly's Shoulders Attired In A Bath-Robe. The Hair On The

Head Was Much Tumbled And The Eyes Were Full Of Sleep. Moreover,  There

Was An Anxious,  Relieved Frown On The Brows.

 

"Where In Thunder've You Been,  Court? We Were Thinking Of Dragging The

River For You. I Must Say You're The Limit! Do You Know What Time It

Is?"

 

"Five Minutes After Four By The Library Clock As I Came Up," Answered

Courtland,  Affably. "Say,  Nelly,  Go To Church With Me Again This

Chapter 16 Pg 92

Morning? I've Found Another Preacher I Want To Sample."

 

"Go To Thunder!" Growled Tennelly. "Not On Your Tin-Type! I'm Going To

Get Some Sleep. What Do You Take Me For? A Night Nurse? Go To Church

When I've Been Up All Night Hunting For You?"

 

"Sorry,  Nelly," Said Courtland,  Cheerfully,  "But It Was An Emergency

Call. Tell You About It On The Way To Church. Church Don't Begin Till

Somewhere Round 'Leven. You'll Be Calm By That Time. So Long! See You In

Church!"

 

Tennelly Slammed His Door Hard,  And Courtland Went Smiling To His Room.

He Knew That Tennelly Would Go With Him To Church. For Courtland Had

Seen Among The Advertisements In The Trolley On His Way Back To The

University,  The Notice Of A Service To Be Held In A Church Away Down In

The Lower Part Of The City,  To Be Addressed By The Rev. John Burns,  And

He Wanted To Go. It Might Not Be _The_ John Burns Of Course,  But He

Wanted To See.

 

Worn Out With The Events Of The Night,  He Slept Soundly Until Ten. Then,

As If He Had Been An Alarm-Clock Set For A Certain Moment,  He Awoke.

 

He Lay There For A Moment In The Peace Of The Consciousness Of Something

Good That Had Come To Him. Then He Knew That It Was The Presence. It Was

There,  In His Room. It Would Always Be His. There Might Be Laws

Attending Its Coming And Going--Perhaps In Some Way Concerned With His

Own Attitude--But He Would Learn Them. It Was Enough To Know The

Possibility Of That Companionship All The Days Of One's Life.

 

He Couldn't Reason Out Why A Thing Like That Should Give Him So Much

Joy. It Didn't Seem Sensible In The Old Way Of Reasoning--And Yet,

Didn't It? If It Could Be Proved To The Fellows That There Was Really A

God Like That,  Companionable,  Reasonable,  Just,  Loving,  Forgiving,  Ready

To Give Himself,  Wouldn't Every One Of Them Jump At The Chance Of

Knowing Him Personally,  Provided There Was A Way For Them To Know Him?

They Claimed It Had Never Been Proved,  Never Could Be. But He Knew It

Could. It Had Been Proved To Him! That Was The Difference. That Was The

Greatness Of It! And Now He Was Going To Church Again To Find Out If The

Presence Was Ever There!

 

With A Bound He Was Out Of Bed,  Shaved And Dressed In An Incredibly

Short Space Of Time,  And,  Shouting To Tennelly,  Who Took His Feet

Reluctantly From The Window-Seat,  Lowered The Sunday Paper,  And Replied,

Sulkily:

 

"Thunder And Blazes! Who Waked You Up,  You Nut! I Thought You Were Good

For Another Two Hours!"

 

But They Went To Church.

 

Tennelly Sat Down On The Hard Wooden Bench And Accepted The Worn

Hymn-Book That A Small Urchin Presented Him,  With An Amused Stare Which

Finally Bloomed Into A Full Grin At Courtland.

Chapter 16 Pg 93

"What's Eating You,  You Blooming Idiot! Where In Thunder Did You Rake Up

This Dump,  Anyway? If You've Got To Go To Church,  Why In The Name Of All

That's A Bore Can't You Pick Out A Place Where The Congregation Take A

Bath Once A Month Whether They Need It Or Not?" He Whispered,  In A Loud

Growl.

 

But Courtland's Eyes Were Already Fixed On The Bright,  Intelligent Face

And Red Hair Of The Man Who Stood Behind The Cheap Little Pulpit. He Was

The Same John Burns! A Window Just Behind The Platform,  Set With Crude

Red And Blue And Yellow Lights Of Cheap Glass,  Sent Its Radiance Down,

Upon His Head,  And The Yellow Bar Lay Across His Hair Like A Halo;

Behind Him,  In The Colored Lights,  There Seemed To Stand The Presence.

It Was So Vivid To Courtland At First That He Drew In His Breath And

Looked Sharply At Tennelly,  As If He,  Too,  Must See,  Though He Knew

There Was Nothing Visible,  Of Course,  But The Lights,  The Glory,  And The

Little,  Freckled,  Earnest Man Giving Out A Hymn.

 

And The Singing! If One Were Looking For Discord,  Well,  It Was There,

Every Shade Of It That The World Had Ever Known! There Were Quavering

Old Voices,  And Piping Young Ones; Off The Key And On The Key,

Squeaking,  Grating,  Screaming,  Howling,  With All Their Earnest Might,

But The Melody Lifted Itself In A Great Voice On High And Seemed To Bear

Along The Spirit Of The Congregation.

 

     "I Need Thee Every Hour.

       Stay Thou Near By;

     Temptations Lose Their Power

       When Thou Art Nigh.

     I Need Thee,  Oh I,  Need Thee,

       Every Hour I Need Thee;

     O Bless Me Now,  My Saviour,

       I Come To Thee!"

 

These People,  Then,  Knew About The Presence,  Loved It,  Longed For It,

Understood Its Power! They Sang Of The Presence And Were Glad! There

Were,  Then,  Others In The World Who Knew,  Besides Himself And Stephen

And Stephen Marshall's Mother! Without Knowing What He Was Doing,

Courtland Sang. He Did Not Know The Words,  But He Felt The Spirit,  And

He Groped Along In Syllables As He Caught Them.

 

Tennelly Sat Gazing Around Him,  Highly Amused,  Not Attempting To

Suppress His Mirth. His Eyes Fairly Danced As He Observed First One

Absorbed Worshiper,  And Then Another,  Intent Upon The Song. He Fancied

Himself Taking Off The Old Elder On The Other Side Of The Aisle,  And The

Intense Young Woman With The Large Mouth And The Feather In Her Hat. Her

Voice Was Killing. He Could Make The Fellows Die Laughing,  Singing As

She Did,  In A High Falsetto.

 

He Looked At Courtland To Enjoy It With Him,  And Lo! Courtland Was

Singing With As Much Earnestness As The Rest; And Upon His Face There

Sat A High,  Exalted Look That He Had Never Seen There Before. Was It

True That The Fire And The Sickness Had Really Affected Court's Mind,

Chapter 16 Pg 94

After All? He Had Seemed So Like His Old Self Lately That They Had All

Hoped He Was Getting Over It.

 

During The Prayer Courtland Dropped His Head And Closed His Eyes.

Tennelly Glanced Around And Marveled Amusedly At The Serious Attitude Of

All. Even A Row Of Tough-Looking Kids On The Back Seats Had At Least

One Eye Apiece Squinted Shut During The Prayer,  And Almost An Atmosphere

Of Reverence Upon Them.

 

Tennelly Prided Himself Upon Being A Student Of Human Nature,  And Before

He Knew It He Was Interested In This Mass Of Common People About Him.

But Now And Again His Gaze Went Uneasily Back To Courtland,  Whose Eyes

Were Fixed Intently Upon The Preacher,  As If The Words He Spoke Were Of

Real Importance To Him.

 

Tennelly Sat Back In Wonder And Tried To Listen. It Was All About A

Mysterious Companionship With God,  Stuff That Sounded Like "Rot" To Him;

Uncanny,  Unreal,  Mystical,  Impossible! Could It Be True That Court,

Their Peach Of A Court,  Whose Sneer And Criticism Alike Had Been Dreaded

By All Who Came Beneath Them--Could It Be That So Sensible And Scholarly

And Sane A Mind As Court's Could Take Up With A Superstition Like That?

For It Was To Tennelly Foolishness.

 

He Owned To A Certain Amount Of Interest In The Emotional Side Of The

Sermon. It Was True That The Little Man Could Sway That Uncouth Audience

Mightily. He Felt Himself Swayed In The Tenderer Side Of His Nature,  But

Of Course His Superior Mind Realized That It Was All Emotion;

Interesting As A Study,  But Not To Be Taken Seriously For A Moment. It

Wasn't A Healthy Thing For Court To See Much Of This Sort Of Thing. All

This Talk Of A Cross,  And One Dying For All! Mere Foolishness And

Superstition! Very Beautiful,  And Perhaps Allegorical,  But Not At All

Practical!

 

The Minister Was Down By The Door Before They Got Out,  And Grasped

Courtland's Hand As If He Were An Old Friend,  And Then Turned And

Grasped Tennelly's. There Was Something So Genuine And Sincere About His

Face That Tennelly Decided That He Must Really Believe All That Junk He

Had Been Preaching,  After All. He Wasn't A Fake,  He Was Merely A Good,

Wholesome Sort Of A Fanatic. He Bowed Pleasantly And Said A Few

Commonplaces As He Passed Out.

 

"Seems To Be A Good Sort," He Murmured To Courtland. "Pity He's Tied

Down To That Sort Of Thing!"

 

Courtland Looked At Him Sharply. "Is That The Way You Feel About It,

Nelly?" There Was Something Half Wistful In His Tone.

 

Tennelly Looked At Him Sharply. "Why,  Sure! I Think He's A Bigger Man

Than His Job,  Don't You?"

 

"Then You Didn't Feel It?"

 

"Feel What?"

 

Chapter 16 Pg 95

"The Presence Of God In That Place!"

 

There Was Something So Simple And Majestic About The Way Courtland Made

The Extraordinary Statement--Not As A Common Fanatic Would Make It,  Nor

Even As One Who Was Testing And Feeling Around For Confirmation Of A

Hope,  But As One Who Knew It To Be A Fact Beyond Questioning,  Which The

Other Merely Hadn't Been Able To See--That Tennelly Was Almost

Embarrassed.

 

"Why--I-- Why--No! I Can't Say That I Noticed Any Particular

Manifestation. I Was Entirely Too Much Taken Up By The Smell To Observe

The Occult. Say,  What's Eating You,  Anyway,  Court? Such Foolishness

Isn't Like You. You Ought To Cut It Out. You Know A Thing Like This Can

Get On Your Nerves If You Let It,  Just Like Anything Else,  And Make You

A Monomaniac. You Ought To Go In For More Athletics And Cut Out Some Of

Your Psychology And Philosophy. Suppose We Go And Take A Ride In The

Park This Afternoon. It's A Great Day."

 

"I Don't Mind Riding In The Park For A While After Dinner. I've Got A

Date About Four O'clock. But I'm Not A Monomaniac,  Nelly,  And Nothing's

Getting On My Nerves. I Never Felt Better Or Happier In My Life. I Feel

As If I'd Been Blind Always,  Been Sort Of Groping My Way,  And Had Just

Got My Eyes Open To See What A Wonderful Thing Life Really Is."

 

"Do You Mean You've Got What They Used To Call 'Religion,' Court? 'Hit

The Trail,' As It Were?" Tennelly Asked As If He Were Delicately

Inquiring About Some Insidious Tubercular Or Cancerous Trouble. He

Seemed Half Ashamed To Connect Such A Perilous Possibility With His

Honored Friend.

 

Courtland Shook His Head. "Not That I Know Of,  Nelly. I Never Attended

One Of Those Big Evangelistic Meetings In My Life,  And I Don't Know

Exactly What 'Religion,' As They Call It,  Is,  So I Can't Lay Claim To

Anything Of That Sort. What I Mean Is,  Simply,  I've Met God Face To Face

And Found He's My Friend. That's About The Size Of It,  And It Makes

Things All Look Different. I'd Like To Tell You About It Just As It

Happened Some Time,  Tennelly,  When You're Ready To Hear."

 

"Wait Awhile,  Court," Said Tennelly,  Half Shrinking. "Wait Till You've

Had A Little More Time To Think It Over. Then If You Like I'll Listen."

 

"Very Well," Said Courtland,  Quietly. "But I Want You To Know It's

Something Real. It's No Sick Fancies."

 

"All Right!" Said Tennelly. "I'll Let You Know When I'm Ready To Hear."

 

 

Late That Afternoon,  When Courtland Entered The Hospital,  The Sunshine

Was Flooding The Great Stained-Glass Window And Glorifying The Face Of

The Christ With The Outstretched Hands. Off In A Near-By Ward Some One

Was Singing To The Patients,  And The Corridors Seemed Hushed To Listen:

 

     The Healing Of The Seamless Dress

Chapter 16 Pg 96

       Is By Our Beds Of Pain.

     We Touch Him In Life's Throng And Press

       And We Are Whole Again!

 

All This Recognition Of The Christ In The World,  And Somehow It Had

Never Come To His Consciousness Before! He Felt Abashed At His

Blindness. And If He Had Been So Long,  Surely There Was Hope For

Tennelly To See,  Too. Somehow,  He Wanted Tennelly To See!

 

Chapter 17 Pg 97

Bonnie Brentwood Was Awake And Expecting Him,  The Nurse Said. She Lay

Propped Up By Pillows,  Draped About With A Dainty,  Frilly

Dressing-Sacque That Looked Too Frivolous For Nurse Wright,  Yet Could

Surely Have Come From No Other Source. The Golden Hair Was Lying In Two

Long Braids,  One Over Each Shoulder,  And There Was A Faint Flush Of

Expectancy On Her Pale Cheeks.

 

"You Have Been So Good To Me!" She Said. "It Has Been Wonderful For A

Stranger To Go Out Of His Way So Much."

 

"Please Don't Let's Talk About That!" Said Courtland. "It's Been Only A

Pleasure To Be Of Service. Now I Want To Know How You Are. I've Been

Expecting To Hear That You Had Pneumonia Or Something Dreadful After

That Awful Exposure."

 

"Oh,  I've Been Through A Good Deal More Than That," Said The Girl,

Trying To Speak Lightly. "Things Don't Seem To Kill Me. I've Had Quite A

Lot Of Hard Times."

 

"I'm Afraid You Have," He Said,  Gravely. "Somehow It Doesn't Seem Fair

That You Should Have Had Such A Rotten Time Of It,  And I Be Lying Around

Enjoying Myself. Shouldn't Everybody Be Treated Alike In This World? I

Confess I Don't Understand It."

 

Bonnie Smiled Feebly. "Oh,  It's All Right!" She Said,  With Conviction.

"'In The World Ye Shall Have Tribulation,  But Fear Not,  I Have Overcome

The World,' You Know. It's Our Testing-Time,  And This World Isn't The

Only Part Of Life."

 

"Well,  But I Don't See How That Answers My Point," Said Courtland,

Pleasantly. "What's The Idea? Don't You Think I Am Worth The Testing?"

Chapter 17 Pg 98

"Oh,  Surely,  But You May Not Need The Same Kind I Did."

 

"You Don't Appear To Me To Have Needed Any Testing. So Far As I Can

Judge,  You've Showed The Finest Kind Of Nerve On Every Occasion."

 

"Oh,  But I Do," Said Bonnie,  Earnestly. "I've Needed It Dreadfully! You

Don't Know How Hard I Was Getting--Sort Of Soured On The World! That Was

The Reason I Came Away From The Old Home Where My Father's Church Was

And Where All The People I Knew Were. I Couldn't Bear To See Them. They

Had Been So Hard On My Dear Father That I Thought They Were The Cause Of

His Death. I Had Begun To Feel That There Weren't Any Real Christians

Left In The World. God Had To Bring Me Away Off Here Into Trouble Again

To Find Out How Good People Are. He Sent You To Help Me,  And Nurse

Wright; And Now To-Day The Most Wonderful Thing Has Happened! I've Had A

Letter From An Utter Stranger,  Asking Me To Come And Visit. I Want You

To Read It,  Please."

 

While Courtland Read Mother Marshall's Letter Bonnie Lay Studying Him.

And Truly He Was A Goodly Sight. No Girl In Her Senses Could Look A Man

Like That Over And Not Know He Was A _Man_ And A Fine One. But Bonnie

Had No Romantic Thoughts. Life Had Dealt Too Hardly With Her For Her To

Have Any Illusions Left. She Had No Idea Of Her Own Charms,  Nor Any

Thought Of Making Much Of The Situation. That Was Why Gila's

Insinuations Had Cut So Terribly Deep.

 

"She's A Peach,  Isn't She?" He Said,  Handing The Letter Back. "How Soon

Does The Doctor Think You'll Be Able To Travel?"

 

"Oh,  I Couldn't Possibly _Go_," Said The Girl,  Relapsing Into Sadness;

"But I Think It Was Lovely Of Her."

 

"Go? Of Course You Must Go!" Cried Courtland,  Springing To His Feet,  As

If He Had Been Accustomed To Manage This Girl's Affairs For Years. "Why,

Mother Marshall Would Be Just Broken-Hearted If You Didn't!"

 

"Mother Marshall!" Exclaimed Bonnie,  Sitting Up From Her Pillows In

Astonishment. "You Know Her,  Then?"

 

Courtland Stopped Suddenly In His Excited March Across The Room And

Laughed Ruefully. "Well,  I've Let The Cat Out Of The Bag After All,

Haven't I? Yes,  Then,  I Know Her! It Was I Who Told Her About You. And I

Had A Letter From Her Two Days Ago,  Saying She Was Crazy To Have You

Come. Why,  She's Just Counting The Minutes Till She Gets Your Telegram!

You _Haven't_ Sent Her Word You Aren't Coming,  Have You?"

 

"Not Yet," Said Bonnie. "I Was Going To Ask You What Would Be The Best

Way To Do. You See,  I Have To Send Back That Money And The Mileage.

Don't You Think It Would Do To Write? It Costs A Great Deal To

Telegraph,  And Sounds So Abrupt When One Has Had Such A Royal

Invitation. It Was Lovely Of Her,  But Of Course You Know I Couldn't Be

Under Obligation Like That To Entire Strangers."

 

There Was A Little Stiffness In Bonnie's Last Words,  And A Cool

Chapter 17 Pg 99

Withdrawal In Her Eyes That Brought Courtland To His Senses And Made Him

Remember Gila's Insinuations.

 

"Look Here!" He Said,  Calming Down And Taking His Chair Again. "You

Don't Understand,  And I Guess I Ought To Explain. In The First Place Get

It Out Of Your Head That I'm Acting Fresh Or Anything Like That. I'm

Only A Kind Of Big Brother That Happened Along Two Or Three Times When

You Needed Somebody--A--A Kind Of A Christ-Brother,  If You Want To Call

It That Way," He Added,  Snatching At The Minister's Phrase. "You Believe

He Sends Help When It's Needed,  Don't You?"

 

Bonnie Nodded.

 

"Well,  I Hadn't An Idea In The World Of Interfering With Your Affairs At

All,  But When I Heard You Ought To Rest,  I Began To Wish I Had A Mother

Of My Own,  Or An Aunt Or Something Who Would Know What To Advise. Then

All Of A Sudden I Thought I'd Just Put The Case Up To Mother Marshall.

This Is The Result. Now Wait Till I Tell You What Mother Marshall Has

Been Through,  And Then If You Don't Decide That God Sent That Invitation

I've Nothing Else To Say."

 

Courtland Had A Reputation At College For Eloquence. In Rushing Season

His Frat. Always Counted On Him To Bowl Over The Doubtful And Difficult

Fellows,  And He Never Failed. Neither Did He Fail Now,  Although He Found

Bonnie Difficult Enough. But He Had Her Eyes Full Of Tears Of Sympathy

Before He Was Through With The Story Of Stephen.

 

"Oh,  I Would Love To See Her And Put My Arms Around Her And Try To

Comfort Her!" She Exclaimed. "I Know Just How She Must Feel. But I

Really Couldn't Use The Money Of A Stranger,  And I Couldn't Go Away With

All This Debt,  The Funeral,  And Everything!"

 

Then He Set Carefully To Work To Plan For Her. He Read Mother Marshall's

Letter Over Again,  And Asked What Things She Would Need To Take If She

Should Go. He Wrote Out A List Of The Things She Would Like To Sell,  And

Promised To Look After Them.

 

"Suppose You Just Leave That To Me," He Said,  Comfortingly. "I'll Wager

I Can Get Enough Out Of Your Furniture To Pay All The Bills,  So You

Won't Leave Any Behind. Then If I Were You I'd Just Use That Check

They've Sent For Your Expenses,  And Trust To Getting A Position,  In

That Neighborhood When You Are Strong Enough. There Are Always Openings

In The West,  You Know."

 

"Do You Really Think I Could Do That?" Asked Bonnie,  Excitedly. "I'm A

Good Stenographer,  I've Had A Really Fine Musical Education,  And I Could

Teach A Number Of Other Things."

 

"Oh,  Sure! You'd Get More Positions Than You Could Fill At Once!" He

Declared,  Joyously. Somehow It Gave Him Great Pleasure To Be Succeeding

So Well.

 

"Then I Could Soon Pay Them Back," Said Bonnie,  Reflectively.

 

Chapter 17 Pg 100

"Sure! You Could Pay Back In No Time After You Got Strong. That Would Be

A Cinch! It Might Even Be That You Could Help Mother Marshall About

Something In The House Pretty Soon. And I'm Sure You'll Find She Just

Needs You. Now Suppose We Write Up That Telegram. There's No Need To

Keep The Dear Lady Waiting Any Longer."

 

"He Thinks I Really Ought To Go," Said Bonnie To The Nurse,  Who Had Just

Returned.

 

"Didn't I Tell You So,  Dear?" Said The Nurse.

 

"How Soon Would The Doctor Let Her Travel?" Asked Courtland.

 

"Why,  I'll Go Ask Him. You Want To Put It In Your Message,  Don't You?"

 

"She's A Dear!" Said Bonnie,  With A Tender Look After Her.

 

"_Isn't_ She A Peach!" Seconded Courtland,  Enthusiastically.

 

The Nurse Was Back Almost At Once,  Reporting That Bonnie Might Travel By

The Middle Of The Week If All Went Well.

 

"But Could I Get Ready To Go So Soon?" Said The Girl,  A Shade Of Trouble

Coming Into Her Eyes. "I Must Go Back And Pack Up My Things,  You Know,

And Clean The Room."

 

Courtland And The Nurse Exchanged Meaningful Glances.

 

"Now Look Here!" Began Courtland,  With His Engaging Smile. "Why Couldn't

The Nurse And I Do All That's Necessary? How About To-Morrow Afternoon?

Could You Get Off Awhile,  Miss Wright? I Don't Have Any Basket-Ball

Practice Till Tuesday,  And I Could Get Off Right After Dinner. Miss

Brentwood,  You Could Tell The Nurse Just What You Want Done With Your

Things,  And I'll Warrant She And I Have Sense Enough To Pack Up One

Little Room."

 

After Some Persuasion Bonnie Half Consented,  And Then They Attended To

The Telegram.

 

     Your Wonderful Invitation Accepted With Deep Gratitude. Will

     Start As Soon As Able. Probably Wednesday Night. Will Write.

 

                                        Rose Bonner Brentwood.

 

Was What They Finally Evolved. Bonnie Had Been Divided Between A Desire

To Save Words And A Longing To Show Her Appreciation Of The Kindness.

 

But The Strangest Thing Of All Was That,  In His Eagerness,  The Paper

Courtland Fumbled Out From His Pocket To Write It Upon Was Gila Dare's

Unopened Letter,  Reeking With Violets. He Frowned As He Realized It,  And

Stuffed It Back In His Pocket Again.

 

Courtland Enjoyed Sending That Telegram. He Enjoyed It So Much That He

Sent Another Along With It On His Own Account,  Which Read:

Chapter 17 Pg 101

 

     Three Cheers For The Best Mother In The United States! She's

     Coming And You Ought To See Her Eyes Shine!

 

It Was On The Way Back To The University That He Happened To Remember

Gila's Letter.

 

 

Chapter 17 Pg 102

     My Dear Mr. Courtland:

 

The Very First Line Translated Courtland Into Another World From The One

In Which He Had Been Living During The Past Three Days. Its Perfumed

Breath Struck Harshly On His Soul.

 

     I Am Writing To Report On The Case Of The Poor Girl Whom You

     Asked Me To Help. I Was Very Anxious To Please You And Did

     My Best; But You Remember That I Warned You That Persons Of

     That Sort Were Likely To Be Most Difficult And

     Ungrateful--Indeed,  Quite Impossible Sometimes. And So,

     Perhaps,  You Will Be Somewhat Prepared For The Disappointing

     Report I Have To Give.

 

     I Went To The Hospital This Afternoon,  Putting Off Several

     Engagements To Do So. I Was Quite Surprised To Find The Girl

     In A Private Room,  But Of Course Your Kindness Made That

     Possible For Her,  Which Makes Her Utter Ingratitude All The

     More Unpardonable.

 

     I Took With Me Several Very Pretty Frocks Of My Own,  Quite

     Good,  Some Of Them Scarcely Worn At All,  For I Know Girls Of

     That Sort Care More For Clothes Than Anything Else. But I

     Found Her Quite Sullen And Disagreeable. She Wouldn't Look

     At The Things I Had Brought,  Although I Suggested Several

     Ways In Which I Intended To Help Her And Make It Possible

     For Her To Have A Few Friends Of Her Own Class Who Would

     Make Her Forget Her Troubles. She Just Lay And Stared At Me

     And Said,  Quite Impertinently,  That She Didn't Remember Ever

     Having Met Me. And When I Mentioned Your Name She Denied

     Ever Having Seen You. She Even Dared To Ask Me To Leave The

     Room. And The Nurse Was Most Insulting.

 

Chapter 17 Pg 103

     But Don't Worry About It In The Least,  For Papa Has Promised

     To Have The Nurse Removed At Once From Her Position,  And

     Blacklisted,  So That She Can't Ever Get Another Place In A

     Decent Hospital.

 

     I Am Afraid You Will Be Disappointed In Your Protegee,  And I

     Am Awfully Sorry,  For I Would Have Enjoyed Doing Her Good;

     But You See How Impossible It Was.

 

     You Are Not To Feel Put Out That I Was Treated That Way,  For

     I Really Enjoyed Doing Something For You; And You Know It Is

     Good For One To Suffer Sometimes. I'll Be Delighted To Go

     Slumming For You Any Time Again That You Say,  And Please

     Don't Mind Asking Me. It's Much Better For Me To Look After

     Any Girls That Need Help Than It Is For You,  Because Girls

     Of That Sort Are So Likely To Impose Upon A Young Man's

     Sympathies.

 

     My Cousin Has Been Telling Me How You Have Been Looking

     After Some Of The Work Of A Student Who Is Majoring In

     Sociology,  So I'm Beginning To Understand Why You Took This

     Girl Up. I Do Hope You'll Let Me Help. Suppose You Run Over

     This Evening And We Can Talk It Over. I'm Giving Up Two

     Whole Engagements To Stay At Home For You,  So I Hope You

     Will Properly Appreciate It,  And If Anything Hinders Your

     Coming,  Would You Mind Calling Up And Letting Me Know?

 

     Hoping To See You This Evening,

                  Your True Friend And Fellow-Worker,

                                              Gila Dare.

 

The Letter Struck A False Note In The Harmony Of The Day. It Annoyed

Courtland Beyond Expression That He Had Made Such A Blunder As To Send

Gila After Bonnie. He Could Not Understand Why Gila Had Not Had Better

Discernment Than To Think Bonnie An Object Of Charity. His Indignation

Was Still Burning Over The Trouble And Peril Her Action Had Brought To

Bonnie. Yet He Hated To Have His Opinion Of Gila Shaken. He Had Arranged

It In His Mind That She Was A Sweet And Lovely Girl,  One In Every Way

Similar To Solveig The Innocent,  And He Did Not Care To Change It. He

Tried To Remember Gila's Conventional Upbringing,  And Realize That She

Had No Conception Of A Girl Out Of Her Own Social Circle Other Than As A

Menial To Whom To Condescend. The Vision Of Her Loveliness In Rose And

Silver,  With Her Prayer-Book "In Her 'Kerchief" Was Still Dimly Forcing

Him To Be At Least Polite And Accept Her Letter Of Apology For Her

Failure,  As He Could But Suppose It Was Sincerely Meant.

 

Then All At Once A New Fact Dawned Upon Him. The Invitation Had Been For

Saturday Evening! This Was Sunday Evening! And Now What Was He To Do? He

Might Call Her Up And Apologize,  But What Could He Say. Bill Ward Might

Have Told Her By This Time That He Knew The Letter Had Been Received. A

Blunt Confession That He Had Forgotten To Read It Might Offend,  Yet What

Else Could He Do? It Was Most Annoying!

 

He Went To The Telephone As Soon As He Reached The College. The Fellows

Chapter 17 Pg 104

Had Already Gone Down To The Evening Meal. He Could Hear The Clink Of

China And Silver In The Distant Dining-Room. It Was A Good Time To

'Phone.

 

A Moment,  And Gila's Cool Contralto Answered: "_Hel_-Lo-_Oo_!" There Was

Something About The Way That Gila Said That Word That Conveyed A Whole

Lot Of Things,  Instantly Putting The Caller At His Distance,  But Placing

The Lady On A Pedestal Before Which It Became Most Desirable To Bow.

 

"This Is Paul Courtland!"

 

"Oh! Mr. Courtland!" Her Voice Was Freezing.

 

But Courtland Was Not Used To Being Frozen Out. "I Owe You An Apology,

Miss Dare," He Said,  With Dignity. He Didn't Care How Blunt He Sounded

Now. It Always Angered Him To Be Frozen! "Your Letter Reached Me Just

As I Was Leaving Here Last Evening On A Very Important Errand. I Put It

In My Pocket,  But I Have Been So Occupied That It Escaped My Mind

Utterly Until Just Now. I Hope I Did Not Cause You Much Inconvenience."

 

"Oh,  It Really Didn't _Mattah_ In The _Least_!" Answered Gila,

Indifferently. Nothing Could Be Colder Or More Distant Than Her Voice,

And Yet There Was Something In It This Time,  A Subtle Lure,  That

Exasperated. A Teasing Little Something At His Spirit Demanded To Be Set

Right In Her Eyes--To Have Her The Suppliant Rather Than Himself.

 

"I Really Am Awfully Ashamed," He Said,  In Quite A Boyish,  Humble Tone,

And Then Gasped At Himself. What Was There About Gila That Always "Got A

Fellow's Goat"?

 

After That Gila Had The Conversation Quite Where She Wanted It,  And

Finally She Told Him Sweetly That He Might Come Over This Evening If He

Chose. She Had Other Engagements,  But She Would Break Them All For Him.

 

"Suppose You Go To Church With Me This Evening," He Temporized. "I've

Found A Minister I'd Like To Have You Hear. He's Quite Original!"

 

There Was A Distinct Pause At The Other End Of The 'Phone,  While Gila's

Little White Teeth Came Cruelly Into Her Red Under Lip,  And Her Pearly

Forehead Drew The Straight,  Black,  Penciled Brows Naughtily. Then She

Answered,  In Sweetly Honeyed Tones:

 

"Why,  That Would Be Lovely! Perhaps I Will. What Time Do We Start?"

 

Something In Her Tone Annoyed Him,  Despite His Satisfaction At Having

Induced Her To Be Friends Again. Almost It Sounded Like A False Note In

The Day Again. He Hadn't Expected Her To Go. Now She Was Going,  He Was

Very Sure He Didn't Want Her.

 

"I Warn You That It Is Among Very Common People In The Lower Part Of The

City," He Said,  Almost Severely.

 

"Oh,  That's All Right!" She Declared,  Graciously. "I'm Sure It Will Be

Dandy! I Certainly Do Enjoy New Experiences!"

Chapter 17 Pg 105

He Hung Up The 'Phone With Far Greater Misgivings Than He Had Felt When

He Asked Her To Call On Bonnie.

 

Bill Ward Was Called Out Of The Dining-Room To The Telephone Almost As

Soon As Courtland Got Down To The Table.

 

It Was Gila On The Phone: "Is That You Bill? Well,  Bill,  This Is Gila.

Say,  What In The Name Of Peace Have You Let Me In For Now? I Hope To

Goodness Mamma Won't Find It Out. She'd Have A Pink Fit! Say! Is This A

Joke,  Or What? I Believe You're Putting One Over On Me!"

 

"Search Me,  Gila! I'm All In The Dark! Give Me A Line On It And I'll

Tell You."

 

"Well,  What Do You Think That Crazy Nut Has Pulled Off Now? Wants Me To

Go To Church With Him! Of All Things! And Down In Some Queer Slum Place,

Too! If I Get Into A Scrape You'll Have To Promise To Help Me Out,  Or

Mamma'll Never Let Me Free From A Chaperon Again. And I Had To Make

Artley Guelpin,  And Turner Bailey Sore,  Too,  By Telling Them I Was Sick

And They Couldn't Come And Try Over Those New Dance-Steps To-Night As

I'd Promised. If I Get Into The Papers Or Anything I'll Have A Long

Score To Settle With You."

 

"Oh,  Cut That Out,  Gila! You'll Not Get Into Any Scrape With Court. He's

All Right. He's Only Nuts About Religion Just Now,  And Seems To Be Set

On Sampling All Kinds Of Churches. Say! That's A Good One,  Though,  For

You To Go To Church With Him! I Must Tell The Fellows. Keep It Up,

Guile,  Old Girl! You'll Pull The Fat Out Of The Fire Yet. You're Just

The One To Go Along And Counteract The Pious Line. You Should Worry

About Artley Guelpin And Turner Bailey! You Can't Keep Either Of Them

Sore; They Haven't Got Back Bone Enough To Stay So. If It's The Same

Dump Court Took Tennelly To This Morning You'll Get Your Money's Worth,

All Right. Nelly Said It Was A Scream."

 

Bill Ward Came Back,  Grinning From Ear To Ear. Every Few Minutes During

The Rest Of The Meal He Broke Out In A Broad Grin And Looked At

Courtland,  Who Was Absorbed In His Own Thoughts; And Then He Would Slap

Tennelly On The Shoulder And Say: "Ho! Boy! It's A Rare One!" But It Was

Not Until Courtland Had Hurried Away After His Lady That Bill Gave Forth

His Information.

 

"Oh,  Nelly!" He Burst Forth. "Court's Going To Take Gila To Church! You

Don't Suppose He'll Take Her To That Dump Where He Led You This Morning,

Do You? I Can See Her Nose Go Up Now. I Thought I'd Croak When She Told

Me! Wait Till You Hear Her Call Me Up On The 'Phone When She Gets Home!

She'll Give Me The Worst Balling Out I Ever Had! And Aunt Nina Would

Have Apoplexy If She Knew Her 'Darlin' Pet' Was Going Into That Part Of

Town! Oh,  Boy! Set Me On My Feet Or I'll Die Laughing!"

 

Tennelly Regarded Bill Ward With Solemn Consternation. "Do You Mean To

Tell Me That Court Has Asked Your Cousin To Go To That Camp-Meeting Hole

Where He Took Me This Morning? Cut Out The Kidding And Tell Me Straight

Chapter 17 Pg 106

Well,  Then,  Bill,  It's Serious,  And We've Got To Do Something! We Can't

Have A Fellow Like Court Spoiled For Life. He's Gone Stale,  That's

What's The Matter; He's Gone Stale! He's Got To Have Strenuous Measures

To Pull Him Up."

 

"He Sure Has!" Said Bill Ward,  Soberly,  Getting Up From The Couch Where

He Had Been Rolling In His Mirth. "What Can We Do? What About These

Business Ambitions Of His? Couldn't We Work Him That Way? For Court's

Got A Great Head On Him,  You Know! I Thought Gila Would Do The Business,

But If He's Rung In Religion On Her It's All Up,  I'm Afraid. But

Business Is A Different Thing. Not Even Court Could Mix Business And

Religion,  For They Won't Fit Together!"

 

"That's The Trouble," Said Tennelly,  Thoughtfully. "If It Gets Out

What's The Matter With Court He Won't Stand Half A Chance. I Was

Thinking Of My Uncle Ramsey,  Out In Chicago. He Has Large Financial

Interests In The West; He Often Wants Promising Men To Take Charge Of

Some Big Thing,  And It Means A Dandy Opening; Big Money And No End Of

Social And Political Pull To Get Into One Of His Berths. He's Promised

Me One When I'm Done College,  And I Was Going To Talk To Him About

Court. He's Twice The Man I Am And Just What Uncle Ramsey Wants. He's

Coming On East Next Week,  And Likely To Stop Over. I Might See What I

Can Do."

 

"That's Just The Thing,  Nelly. Go To It,  Old Man! Write Unc. A Letter

To-Night. Nothing Like Giving A Lot Of Dope Beforehand."

 

"That's An Idea! I Will!" And Tennelly Went To His Desk And Began To

Write.

 

Meantime Gila Awaited Courtland's Coming,  Attired In A Most Startling

Costume Of Blue Velvet And Ermine,  With High Laced White Kid Boots,  And

A Hat That Resembled A Fresh,  White Setting-Hen,  Tied Down To Her Pert

Little Face With A Veil Whose Large-Meshed Surface Was Broken By A

Single Design,  A Large Black Butterfly Anchored Just Across Her Dainty

Little Nose. A Most Astonishing Costume In Which To Appear In The Rev.

John Burns's Unpretentious Little Church Crowded With The Canaille Of

The City!

 

It Was The First Time That Courtland Had Ever Felt That Gila Was A

Little Loud In Her Dress!

 

Chapter 18 Pg 107

Mother Marshall Got Strenuously To Her Feet From The Low Hassock On

Which She Had Been Sitting To Sew The Carpet,  And Trotted To The Head Of

The Stairs.

 

"Father!" She Called,  Happily. "Oh,  Father! It's All Done! I Just Set

The Last Stitch. You Can Bring Your Hammer And Tacks. Better Bring Your

Rubbers,  Too. You'll Need Them When You Come To Stretch It."

 

Father Hurried Up So Quickly It Was Clear He Had The Hammer And Rubbers

All Ready.

 

"You'll Need A Saucer To Put The Tacks In!" And Mother Marshall Hustled

Away To Get It. When She Came Back The Carpet Was Spread Out Smoothly

And Father Stood Surveying The Effect.

 

"Say,  Now,  It Looks Real Pretty,  Don't It?" He Said,  Looking Up At The

Walls And Down To The Floor.

 

"It Certainly Does!" Declared Mother Marshall. "And I'm Real Glad The

Man Made Us Take This Plain Pink Paper. It Didn't Look Much To Me When

He First Brought It Out,  I Must Confess. I Had Set My Heart On Stripes

With Pink Roses In It. But When He Said 'Felt,' Why That Settled It

Because That Article In The Magazine Said Felt Papers Were The Best For

General Wear And Satisfaction. And Then When He Brought Out That Roll

With The Cherry Blossoms On It For A Stripe Around The Top,  I Was Just

All Happy Down My Spine,  It Did Look So Kind Of Bridey And Pretty,  Like

Our Cherry Orchard On A Spring Evening When The Pink Is In The Sky. And

That White Molding Between 'Em Is Going To Be Real Handy To Hang The

Pictures On. The Man Gave Me Some Little Brass Picture-Hooks. See,  They

Fit Right Over The Molding. Of Course,  There Isn't But One Picture,  But

She'll Maybe Have Some Of Her Own And Like It All The Better If The Wall

Isn't All Cluttered Full. You Know The Magazine Said Have 'A Few Good

Pictures.' I Mean To Hang It Up Right Now And See How It Looks! There!

Doesn't That Look Pretty Against The Pink? I Wasn't Sure About The White

Frame,  It Was So Plain,  But I Like It. Those Apple Blossoms Against That

Blue Piece Of Sky Look Real Natural,  Don't They. You Like It,  Don't You,

Father?"

 

"Well,  I Should Say I Did," Said Father,  As He Scuffed A Corner Of The

Carpet Into Place With His Rubbered Feet. "Say,  This Carpet Is Some

Thick,  Mother,  As I Guess Your Fingers Will Testify,  Having Sewed All

Those Long Seams. 'Member How Stevie Used To Sit On The Carpet Ahead Of

Your Seams When He Was A Baby,  And Laugh And Clap His Hands When You

Couldn't Sew Any Further Because He Was In The Way?"

 

"Yes,  Wasn't He The Sweetest Baby!" Said Mother Marshall,  With A Bright

Tear Glinting Suddenly Down Her Cheek. "Why,  Father,  Sometimes I Can't

Really Make It Seem True That He's All Done With This Life And Gone

Ahead Of Us Into The Next One. It Won't Be Hard Dying,  For Us,  Because

He's There,  And We Sha'n't Have To Think Of Leaving Him Behind To Go

Through A Lot Of Trials And Things."

Chapter 18 Pg 108

"Well,  I Guess He's Pretty Happy Seeing You Chirk Up So,  Mother. You

Know What He'd Have Thought Of All This! Why He'd Have Just Rejoiced In

It! He Hated So To Have You Left Alone All Day. Don't You Mind How He

Used To Wish He Had A Sister? Say,  Mother,  You Just Stand On That

Corner There Till I Get This Tack In Straight. This Edge Is So Tremenjus

Thick! I Don't Know As The Tacks Are Long Enough. What Was You Figuring

To Do With The Book-Shelves,  Put Books In,  Or Leave 'Em Empty For Her

Things?"

 

"Well,  I Thought About That,  And I Made Out We'd Better Put In Some

Books So It Wouldn't Look So Empty. We Can Take Them Out Again If She

Has A Lot Of Her Own!"

 

"We Could Put In Some Of Stephen's That He Set Such Store By. There's

All That Set Of Scott,  And Dickens,  And Those Other Fellows That He

Wanted Us To Start And Read Evenings This Winter. By The Way,  Mother,

We'd Ought To Get At That! Perhaps She'll Like To Read Aloud When She

Comes! That Would About Suit Us. We're Rather Old To Begin Loud Reading,

Steve's Always Read To Us So Long. I Don't Know But I'd Buy A Few New

Books,  Too. She's A Girl You Know,  And You Might Find Something Lately

Written That She'd Like. It Wouldn't Do Any Harm To Get A Few. You Could

Ask The Book-Store Man What To Pick Out--Say A Shelf Or Two."

 

"Oh,  I Shouldn't Need To Do That!" Said Mother,  Hurrying Away To Get Her

Magazine,  Which Was Never Far Away These Last Two Or Three Days.

"There's A Whole Long List Here Of Books 'Your Young People Will Want To

Have In Their Library.' Wells And Shaw And Ibsen,  And A Lot Of Others I

Never Heard Of,  But These First Three I Remembered Because Stephen Spoke

Of Them In One Of His First Letters About College. Don't You Know He Was

Studying A Course With Those Men's Books In It? He Said He Didn't Know

As He Was Always Going To Agree With All They Said,  But They Were Big,

Broad Men,  And Had Some Fine Thoughts. He Thought Sometimes They Hadn't

Just Got The Inner Light About God And The Bible And All,  But They Were

The Kind Of Men Who Were Getting There,  Striving After Truth,  And Would

Likely Find It And Hand It Out To The World Again When They Got It; Like

The Wise Men Hunting Everywhere For A Saviour. Don't You Remember,

Father?"

 

"I Remember!" Father Tried To Speak Cheerily,  But His Breath Ended In A

Sigh,  For The Carpet Was Heavy. Mother Looked At Him Sharply And Changed

The Subject. It Wasn't Always Easy To Keep Father Cheerful About

Stephen's Going.

 

"You Don't Suppose We Could Get Those Curtains Up To-Night,  Too,  Do

You?"

 

"Why,  I Reckon!" Said Father,  Stopping For A Puff Of Breath And Looking

Up To The White Woodwork At The Top Of The Windows. "You Got 'Em All

Ready To Put Up,  All Sewed And Everything? Why,  I Reckon I Could Put Up

Those Rods After I Get Across This End,  And Then You Could Slip The

Curtains On While I Was Doing The Rest. You Don't Want To Get Too Tired,

Mother. You Know You Been Sewing A Long Time To-Day."

 

Chapter 18 Pg 109

"Oh,  I'm Not Tired! I'm Just Childish Enough To Want To See How It's All

Going To Look. Say,  Father,  That Wasn't The Telephone Ringing,  Was It?

You Don't Think We Might Get A Telegram Yet To-Night?"

 

"Not Scarcely!" Said Father,  With His Mouth Full Of Tacks. "You See,

It's Been Bad Weather,  And Like As Not Your Letter Got Storm-Stayed A

Day Or So. You Mustn't Count On Hearing 'Fore Monday I Guess."

 

They Both Knew That That Letter Ought To Have Reached The Hospital Where

Bonnie Brentwood Was Supposed To Be About Six O'clock That Evening,  For

So They Had Calculated The Time Between Stephen's Letters To A Nicety;

But Each Was Engaged In Trying To Keep The Other From Getting Anxious

About The Telegram That Did Not Come. For It Was Now Half Past Eight By

The Kitchen Clock,  And Both Of Them Were As Nervous As Fleas Listening

For That Telephone To Ring That Would Decide The Fate Of The Pretty Pink

Room,  Whether It Was To Have An Occupant Or Not.

 

"These White Madras Curtains Look Like There's Been A Frost On A Cobweb,

Don't They?" Said Mother Marshall,  Holding Up A Pair All Arranged Upon

The Brass Rod Ready To Hang. "And Just See How Pretty This Pink Stuff

Looks Against It. I Declare It Reminds Me Of The Sunset Light On The

Snow In The Orchard Out The Kitchen Window Evenings When I Was Watching

For Steve To Come Home From School. Say,  Father,  Don't You Think Those

Book-Shelves Look Cozy Each Side Of The Bay Window? And Wasn't It Clever

Of Jed Lewis To Think Of Putting Hinges To The Covers On That

Window-Seat? She Can Keep Lots Of Things In There! Wait Till I Get Those

Two Pink Silk Cushions You Made Me Buy. My! Father,  But You And I Are

Getting Extravagant In Our Old Age! And All For A Girl That May Never

Even Answer Our Letter!"

 

There Was A Kind Of Sob In The End Of Mother Marshall's Words That She

Tried To Disguise,  But Father Caught It And Flew To The Rescue.

 

"There Now,  Mother!" He Said,  Getting Laboriously Up From The Carpet,

Hammer In Hand,  And Putting His Arms Tenderly About Her. "There Now,

Mother! Don't You Go Fretting! You See,  Like As Not She Was Asleep When

The Letter Got There,  And They Wouldn't Wake Her Up,  Or Mebbe It Would

Be Too Much Excitement For Her At Night That Way! And Then,  Again,  If

The Mail-Train Was Late It Wouldn't Get Into The Night Deliv'ry. You

Know That Happened Once For Steve And He Was Real Worried About Us! Then

They Might Not Have Deliv'ry At The Hospital On Sunday,  And She Couldn't

_Get_ It Till Monday Morning! See? And There's Another Thing You Got To

Calcl'ate On,  Too! You Never Thought Of That! She Might Be Too Sick Yet

To Read A Letter,  Or Think What To Say To It! So Just You Be Patient,

Mother! We'll Just Have That Much More Time To Fix Things; For,  So To

Speak,  Now We Haven't Got Any Limitations On What We Think She Is. We

Can Just Plan For Her Like She Was Perfect. When We Get Her Telegram

We'll Get Some Idea,  And Begin To Know The Real Girl,  But Now We've Just

Got Our Own Notion Of Her."

 

"Why,  Of Course!" Choked Mother,  Smiling. "I'm Just Afraid,  Seth,  That

I'm Getting Set On Her Coming,  And That Isn't Right At All,  You Know,

Because She Mightn't Be Coming."

 

Chapter 18 Pg 110

"Well,  And Then Again She Might. Howsomenever,  We'll Have This Room

Fixed Up Company Fine,  And If She Don't Come We'll Just Come Here And

Camp For A Week,  You And Me,  And Pretend We're Out Visiting. How Would

That Do? Say,  It's Real Pretty Here,  Like Spring In The Orchard,  Ain't

It,  Mother? Well,  Now,  You Figure Out What You're Going To Have For

Bureau Fixings,  And I'll Get Back To My Tacking. I Want To Get Done

To-Night And Get That Pretty White Furniture Moved In. You're Sure The

Enamel Is Perfectly Dry On That Bed? That Was The Last Piece He Worked

On. I Think Jed Made A Pretty Good Job Of It,  For Such Quick Work. Don't

You? Got A Clean Counterpane,  And One Of Your Pink-And-White Patchwork

Quilts For In Here,  Haven't You,  And A Posy Pin-Cushion? My! But I'd

Like To Know What She Says When She Sees It First!"

 

And So The Two Old Dears Jollied Each Other Along Till Far Past Their

Bedtime; And When At Last They Lay Quiet For The Night Mother Raised Up

In The Moonlight That Was Floodal Government Were Arrested In The Winter Palace,  But

Kerensky Managed To Escape. The Bolshevik _Coup D'état_ Was Thus

Accomplished Practically Without Bloodshed. A New Government Was Formed,

Called The Council Of People's Commissaries,  Of Which Nikolai Lenine Was

President And Leon Trotzky Commissioner For Foreign Affairs. The

"Dictatorship Of The Proletariat" Was Thus Begun. Kerensky's Attempt To

Rally Forces Enough To Put An End To This Dictatorship Was A Pathetic

Failure,  As It Was Bound To Be. It Was Like The Last Fitful Flicker With

Which A Great Flame Dies. The Masses Wanted Peace--For That They Would

Tolerate Even A Dictatorship.

Chapter 19 Pg 111

 

The Defenders And Supporters Of The Bolsheviki Have Made Much Of The Fact

That There Was Very Little Bloodshed Connected With The Successful

Bolshevik Uprising In Petrograd. That Ought Not To Be Permitted,  However,

To Obscure The Fundamental Fact That It Was A Military _Coup D'état_,  The

Triumph Of Brute Force Over The Will Of The Vast Majority Of The People. It

Was A Crime Against Democracy. That The People Were Passive,  Worn Out,  And

Distracted,  Content To Wait For The Constituent Assembly,  Only Makes The

Bolshevik Crime Appear The Greater. Let Us Consider The Facts Very Briefly.

Chapter 19 Pg 112

Less Than Three Weeks Away Was The Date Set For The Constituent Assembly

Elections. Campaigns For The Election Of Representatives To That Great

Democratic Convention Were Already In Progress. It Was To Be The Most

Democratic Constitutional Convention That Ever Existed In Any Country,  Its

Members Being Elected By The Entire Population,  Every Man And Woman In

Russia Being Entitled To Vote. The Suffrage Was Equal,  Direct,  Universal,

And Secret.

 

Moreover,  There Was A Great Democratic Reconstruction Of The Nation

Actually In Progress At The Time. The Building Up Of Autonomous Democratic

Local Governing Bodies,  In The Shape Of A New Type Of Zemstvos,  Was Rapidly

Progressing. The Old-Time Zemstvos Had Been Undemocratic And Did Not

Represent The Working-People,  But The New Zemstvos Were Composed Of

Representatives Nominated And Elected By Universal Suffrage,  Equal,  Secret,

And Direct. Instead Of Being Very Limited In Their Powers As The Old

Zemstvos Were,  The New Zemstvos Were Charged With All The Ordinary

Functions Of Local Government. The Elections To These Bodies Served As An

Admirable Practical Education In Democracy,  Making It More Certain Than

Would Otherwise Have Been The Case That The Russian People Would Know How

To Use Their New Political Instrument So As To Secure A Constituent

Assembly Fully Representing Their Will And Their Desire.

 

At The Same Time Active Preparations For Holding The Election Of Members To

The Constituent Assembly Were Actually Under Way. The Socialist Parties

Were Making Special Efforts To Educate The Illiterate Voters How To Use

Their Ballots Correctly. The Provisional Government,  On Its Part,  Was

Pushing The Preparations For The Elections As Rapidly As Possible. All Over

The Country Special Courts Were Established,  In Central Places,  To Train

The Necessary Workers So That The Elections Might Be Properly Conducted.

Above All,  The Great Problem Of The Socialization Of The Land Which Had

Been Agitated For So Many Years Had Now Reached The Stage At Which Its

Solution Might Almost Have Been Said To Be Complete. The National Soviet Of

Peasants,  Together With The Socialist Revolutionary Party,  Had Formulated A

Law On The Subject Which Represented The Aspiration And The Best Thought Of

The Leaders Of The Peasants' Movement. That Law Had Been Approved In The

Council Of Ministers And Was Ready For Immediate Promulgation. Peasant

Leaders Like Chernov,  Rakitnikov,  Vikhiliaev,  And Maslov Had Put An Immense

Amount Of Work Into The Formulation Of This Law,  Which Aimed To Avoid

Anarchy,  To See To It That Instead Of An Individualistic Scramble By The

Peasants For The Land,  In Small And Unorganized Holdings,  The Problem

Should Be Scientifically Dealt W's Happy Thoughts Were In A Tumult,  But She Had Her Head

About Her Yet.

 

Chapter 19 Pg 113

"Now,  Make Him Say It All Over From The Beginning Again,  Father,  And See

If We've Got It Right. You Speak The Words Out As He Says 'Em,  And I'll

Watch The Writing."

 

And So At Last The Message Was Verified And The Receiver Hung Up. They

Read The Message Over Together,  And They Looked At Each Another With

Glad Eyes.

 

"Now Let Us Pray,  Rachel!" Said Father,  With Solemn,  Shaken Voice Of

Joy. And The Two Lonely Old People Knelt Down By The Little Table On

Which Stood The Telephone And Gave Thanks To God For The Child He Was

About To Send To Their Empty Home.

 

"Now," Said Father Marshall,  When They Had Risen,  "I Guess We Better Get

A Bite To Eat. Seems Like A Long Time Since Dinner. Any Of That Cold

Chicken Left,  Mother? And A Few Doughnuts And Milk? And Say,  Mother,  We

Better Get The Chores Done Up And Get To Bed Early. I Don't Think You

Slept Much Last Night,  And We've Got To Get Up Early. There's A Whole

Lot To Do Before She Comes. We Need To Chirk Up The Rest Of The House A

Bit. Somehow We've Let Things Get Down Since Stephen Went Away."

 

Said Mother,  As She Landed The Platter Of Cold Chicken On The Table,

"How Soon Do You S'pose She'll Write? I'm Just Aching To Get That

Chapter 20 Pg 114

 

 

Gila Had Counted On An Easy Victory That Evening. She Had Furnished For

The Occasion Her Keenest Wit,  Her Sweetest Laughter,  Her Finest

Derision,  Her Most Sparkling Sarcasm; And As She And Her Escort Joined

The Motley Throng Who Were Patiently Making Their Way Into The Packed

Doorway She Whetted Them Forth Eagerly.

 

Even While They Took Their Turn Among The Crowd She Began To Make Keen

Little Remarks About The Company They Were Keeping,  Drawing Her Velvet

Robes Away From Contact With The Throng.

 

Courtland,  Standing Head And Shoulders Above Her,  His Fine Profile

Outlined Against The Brightness Of The Lighted Doorway,  Was Looking

About With Keen Interest On The Faces Of The People,  And Wondering Why

They Had Come. Were They In Search Of The Presence? Had They,  Too,  Felt

Chapter 20 Pg 115

That She,  Too,  Might See And Understand To-Night. What Friends They

Might Be--How They Might Talk These Things Over Together--If Only Gila

Would Understand!

 

He Wished She Had Had Better Sense Than To Array Herself In Such

Startling Garments. He Could See The Curious Glances Turned Her Way;

Glances That Showed She Was Misunderstood. He Did Not Like It,  And He

Reached Down A Protecting Hand And Took Her Arm,  Speaking To Her

Gravely,  Just To Show The Bold Fellows Behind Her That She Was Under

Capable Escort. He Did Not Hear Her Keen Sallies At The Expense Of Their

Fellow-Worshipers. He Was Annoyed And Trying By His Serious Mien To

Shelter Her.

 

The Singing Was Already Going On As They Entered. Just Plain Old Gospel

Songs,  Sung Just As Badly,  Though With Even More Fervor,  Than In The

Morning. Courtland Accepted The Tattered Hymn-Book And Put Gila Into The

Seat The Shabby Usher Indicated. He Was Wholly In The Spirit Of The

Gathering,  And Anxious Only To Feel The Spell Once More That Had Been

About Him In The Morning. But Gila Was So Amused With Her Surroundings

That She Could Scarcely Pay Attention To Where She Was To Sit,  And

Almost Tripped Over The End Of The Pew. She Openly Stared And Laughed At

The People Around Her,  As Though That Was What Courtland Had Brought Her

There For,  And Kept Nudging Him And Calling His Attention To Some

Grotesque Figure.

 

Courtland Was Singing,  Joining His Fine Tenor In With The Curious

Assembly And Enjoying It. Gila Recalled Him Each Time From A Realm Of

The Spirit,  And He Would Earnestly Give Attention To What She Said,

Bending His Ear To Listen,  Then Look Seriously At The Person Indicated,

Try To Appreciate Her Amusement With A Nod And Absent Smile,  And Go On

Singing Again! He Was So Absorbed In The Gathering That Her Talk

Scarcely Penetrated To His Real Soul.

 

If He Had Been Trying To Baffle Gila He Could Have Used No More

Effective Method,  For The Point Of Her Jokes Seemed Blunted. She Turned

Her Eyes At Last To Her Escort And Began To Study Him,  Astonishment And

Chagrin In Her Countenance. Gradually Both Gave Way To A Kind Of

Admiration And Curiosity. One Could Not Look At Courtland And Not

Admire. The Fine Strength In His Handsome Young Face And Figure Were

Always Noticeable Among A Company Anywhere,  And Here Among These

Foreigners And Wayfarers It Was Especially So. She Was Conscious Of A

Thrill Of Pleasure In His Presence That Was New To Her. Usually Her

Attitude Was To Make Others Thrill At Her Presence! No Man Before Had

Caught Her Fancy And Held It Like This Rare One. What Secret Lay Behind

That Grave Strength Of His That Made Him Successfully Resist Those Arts

Of Hers That Had Readily Lured Other Victims?

 

She Watched Him While He Bowed His Head In Prayer,  And Noted How His

Rich,  Close-Cut Hair Waved And Crept About His Temples; Noted The Curve

Of His Chin And The Curl Of His Lashes On His Cheek. More And More She

Coveted Him. And She Must Set Herself To Find And Break This Other Power

That Had Him In Its Clutches. She Perfectly Recognized The Fact That It

Chapter 20 Pg 116

Power Was Broken,  And That She Might Have To Toss Him Aside After He Was

Fully Hers. But What Of That? Had She Not So Tossed Many A Hapless Soul

That Had Come Like A Moth To Singe His Wings In Her Candle-Flame,  Then

Laughed At Him Gaily As He Lay Writhing In His Pain; And Tossed After

Him,  Torn And Trampled,  His Own Ideals Of Womanhood,  Too; So That All

Other Women Might Henceforth Be Blighted In His Eyes. Ah! What Of That,

So That Unquenchable Flame In Her Soul,  That Restlessly Pursued And

Conquered And Cast Aside,  Might Be Satisfied? Was That Not What Women

Were Made For,  To Conquer Men And Toss Them Away? If They Did Not Would

Not Men Conquer Them And Toss Them Away? She Was But Fulfilling Her

Womanhood As She Had Been Taught To Look Upon It.

 

But There Was Something Puzzling About Courtland That Interested Her

Deeply. She Was Not Sure But It Was Half His Charm. He Really Seemed To

_Want_ To Be Good,  To _Desire_ To Resist Evil. Most Of The Other Men

She Knew Had Been All Too Ready To Fall As Lightly With As Little

Earnestness As She Into Whatever Doubtful Paths Her Dainty Feet Had

Chanced To Lead. Many Of Them Would Have Led Further Than She Would Go,

For She Had Her Own Limitations And Conventions,  Strange As It May Seem.

 

So Gila Sat And Meditated,  With A Strange,  Sweet Thrill In The Thought

Of A New Experience; For,  Young As She Was,  She Had Found The Pleasures

Of Her Existence Pall Upon Her Many Times.

 

Suddenly Her Ear Was Caught By The Sermon. The Ugly Little Man In The

Pulpit,  With The Strange Eyes That Seemed To Look Through You,  Was

Telling A Story Of A Garden,  With One Calling,  And A Pair Of Naked Souls

Guilty And In Fear Before Him. It Was As Though She Had Been One Of

Them! What Right Had He To Flaunt Such Truths Before A Congregation?

 

She Was Not Familiar Enough With Bible Truths To Know Where He Got The

Story. It Did Not Seem A Story. It Was Just Her Eden Where She Walked

And Ate What Fruit She Might Desire Every Day Without A Thought Of Any

Command That Might Have Been Issued. She Recognized No Commands. What

Right Had God To Command Her? The Serpent Had Whispered Early To Her,

"Thou Shalt Not Surely Die." Her Only Question Was Ever Whether The

Fruit Was Pleasant To The Eyes And A Tree To Be Desired To Make One

Wise. Till Now There Had Been No Lord God Walking In Her Garden In The

Cool Of The Day. Only Her Mother,  And She Was Easy To Evade. She Had

Never Been Really Afraid,  Nor Felt Her Little Soul Naked Till Now,  With

The Ugly Little Man's Bright Brown Eyes Upon Her,  And His Words

Shivering Through Her Like Winds About The Unprotected. Hideous Things

She Had Forgotten Flung Into View And Challenged Her; And Somewhere In

The Room There Seemed To Be One Who Dared To Call Her To Account. She

Looked Fiercely Back To Theic Socialism. Still,  The Fact Remains That What Social

Ideals They Hold Are No Part Of Bolshevism. They Are Socialist Ideals.

Bolshevism Is A Distinctive Method And A Program,  And Its Essence Is The

Relentless Use Of Power By The Proletariat Against The Rest Of Society In

The Same Manner That The Bourgeois And Military Rulers Of Nations Have

Commonly Used It Against The Proletariat. Bolshevism Has Simply Inverted

Chapter 20 Pg 117

Bolsheviki Themselves. They Denounced Kerensky's Government For Not Holding

The Elections For The Constituent Assembly Sooner,  Posing As The Champions

Of The Constituante. When They Had Themselves Assumed Control Of The

Government They Delayed The Meeting Of The Constituent Assembly And Then

Suppressed It By Force Of Arms! They Denounced Kerensky For Having

Restored The Death Penalty In The Army In Cases Of Gross Treachery,

Professing An Intense Horror Of Capital Punishment As A Form Of "Bourgeois

Savagery." When They Came Into Power They Instituted Capital Punishment For

_Civil_ And _Political Offenses_,  Establishing Public Hangings And

Floggings As A Means Of Impressing The Population![24] They Had Bitterly

Assailed Kerensky For His "Militarism," For Trying To Build Up The Army And

For Urging Men To Fight. In Less Critical Circumstances They Themselves

Resorted To Forced Conscription. They Condemned Kerensky And His Colleagues

For "Interfering With Freedom Of Speech And Press." When They Came Into

Power They Suppressed All Non-Bolshevist Papers And Meetings In A Manner

Differing Not At All From That Of The Czar's Régime,  Forcing The Other

Socialist Parties And Groups To Resort To The Old Pre-Revolution

"Underground" Methods.

 

The Evidence Of All These Things,  And Things Even Worse Than These,  Is

Conclusive And Unimpeachable. It Is Contained In The Records Of The

Bolshevik Government,  In Its Publications,  And In The Reports Of The Great

Socialist Parties Of Russia,  Officially Made To The International Socialist

Bureau. Surely The Evidence Sustains The Charge That,  Whatever Else They

May Or May Not Be,  The Bolsheviki Are Not Unbending And Uncompromising

Idealists Of The Type Of John Brown And William Lloyd Garrison,  As They Are

So Often Represented As Being By Well-Meaning Sentimentalists Whose

Indulgence Of The Bolsheviki Is As Unlimited As Their Ignorance Concerning

Them.

 

Some Day,  Perhaps,  A Competent Psychologist Will Attempt The Task Of

Explaining The Psychology Of Our Fellow-Citizens Who Are So Ready To Defend

The Bolsheviki For Doing The Very Things They Themselves Hate And Condemn.

In Any List Of Men And Women In This Country Friendly To The Bolsheviki It

Will Be Found That They Are Practically All Pacifists And

Anti-Conscriptionists,  While A Great Many Are Non-Resistants And

Conscientious Objectors To Military Service. Practically All Of Them Are

Vigorous Defenders Of The Freedom Of The Press,  Of The Right Of Public

Assemblage And Of Free Speech. With The Exception Of A Few Anarchists,  They

Are Almost Universally Strong Advocates Of Radical Political Democracy. How

Can High-Minded And Intelligent Men And Women--As Many Of Them Are--Holding

Chapter 20 Pg 118

Such Beliefs As These Give Countenance To The Bolsheviki,  Who Bitterly And

Resolutely Oppose All Of Them? How Can They Denounce America's Adoption Of

Conscription And Say That It Means That "Democracy Is Dead In America"

While,  At The Same Time,  Hailing The Birth Of Democracy In Russia,  Where

Conscription Is Enforced By The Bolsheviki? How,  Again,  Can They At One And

The Same Time Condemn American Democracy For Its Imperfections,  As In The

Matter Of Suffrage,  While Upholding And Defending The Very Men Who,  In

Russia,  Deliberately Set Out To Destroy The Universal Equal Suffrage

Already Achieved? How Can They Demand Freedom Of The Press And Of

Assemblage,  Even In War-Time,  And Denounce Such Restrictions As We Have Had

To Endure Here In America,  And At The Same Time Uphold The Men Responsible

For .

 

She Dropped Her Lashes And Played With The Frill On The Wrist Of The

Long Chiffon Sleeve Of Her Blouse. Her Eyes Beneath Their Concealing

Lashes Kindled. Her Mouth Grew Sweet And Sensitive,  Her Whole Attitude

Became Shy And Alluring. She Sat And Drooped Before The Fire,  Casting

Now And Then A Wide,  Shy,  Innocent Look Up,  Her Face Half Turned Away.

 

"Does She Look Adown Her Apron!" Floated The Words Through His Brain.

Ah! Here At Last Was The Gila He Had Been Seeking! The Gila Who Would

Understand!

 

"Tell Me,  Gila!" He Said,  In An Eager,  Low Appeal.

 

She Stirred Softly,  Drooped A Little More Toward Him,  Her Face Turned

Away Till Only The Charming Profile Showed Against The Rich Darkness Of

A Crimson Curtain. Now At Last He Was Coming To It!

 

"It Was--_You_--I Meant!" She Breathed Softly.

 

He Sat Up Sharply. There Was Subtle Flattery In Her Tone. He Could Not

Fail To Be Stirred By It.

 

"Me!" He Said,  Almost Sternly. "I Don't Understand!" But His Voice Was

Gentle,  Almost Tender. She Looked So Small And Scared And

"Solveig"-Like.

 

"You Meant _Me_!" He Said,  Again. "Won't You Please Explain?"

 

 

 

Chapter 21 Pg 119

 

Courtland Went Back To College That Night In A Tender And Exalted Mood.

He Thought He Was In Love With Gila!

 

That Had Been A Wonderful Little Scene Before The Fire,  With The Soft,

Hidden Yellow Lights Above,  And Gila With Her Delicate,  Fervid Little

Face,  Great,  Dark Eyes,  And Shy Looks. Gila Had Risked A Tear Upon Her

Pearly Cheek And Another To Hang Upon Her Long Lashes,  And He Had Had A

Curious Desire To Kiss Them Away; But Something Held Him From It.

Instead,  He Took His Clean Handkerchief,  Softly Wiping Them,  And Thought

That Gila Was Shy And Modest When She Shrank From His Touch.

 

He Did Not Take Her In His Arms. Something Held Him From That,  Too. He

Had A Feeling That She Was Too Sacred,  And He Must Not Lightly Snatch

Her For Himself. Instead,  He Put Her Gently In The Big Chair By His

Side,  And They Sat And Talked Together Quietly. He Did Not Realize That

He Had Done The Most Of The Talking. He Did Not Know What They Had

Talked About; Only That Reluctant Whispered Confession Of Hers Had

Somehow Entered Him Into A Close Intimacy With Her That Pleased And Half

Awed Him. But When He Tried To Tell Her Of A Wonderful Experience He Had

Had She Lifted Up Her Little Hand And Begged: "Please,  Not To-Night! Let

Us Not Think Of Anything But Just Each Other To-Night!" And So He Had

Let It Pass,  Knowing She Was All Wrought Up.

 

He Had Not Asked Her To Marry Him,  Nor Even Told Her He Loved Her. They

Had Talked In Quiet,  Wondering Ways Of Feeling Drawn To Each Other; At

Least _He_ Had Talked,  And Gila Had Sat Watching Him With Deep,

Dissatisfied Eyes. She Had Sense Enough To See That She Could Not Win

Him With The Arts That Had Won Others. His Was A Nature Deeper,

Stronger. She Must Bide Her Time And Be Coy. But Her Spirit Chafed

Beneath Delay,  And Dark Passions Lurked Behind And Brooded In Her Eyes.

Perhaps It Was This That Held Him In A Sort Of Uncertainty. It Was As If

He Waited Permission From Some Unseen Source To Take What She Was So

Evidently Ready To Give. He Thought It Was The Sacredness In Which He

Held Her. Almost The Sermon And The Feeling Of The Presence Were Out Of

Mind As He Went Home. There Played Around Him Now A Little Phantom Joy

That Hovered Over Like A Will-O'-The-Wisp Above His Heart,  And Danced,

Giving Him A Strange,  Inexplicable Exhilaration. Was This Love? Was He

In Love?

 

He Flung Himself Down On Tennelly's Couch When He Got Back To The

Dormitory. Bill Ward Was Deep In A Book Under The Drop-Light,  And

Tennelly Was Supposed To Be Finishing A Theme For The Next Day.

 

"Nelly,  What Is Love?" Asked Courtland,  Suddenly,  In The Midst Of The

Chapter 21 Pg 120

Silence. "How Do You Know When You Are In Love?"

 

Tennelly Dropped His Fountain-Pen In His Surprise,  And Had To Crawl

Under The Table After It. He And Bill Ward Exchanged One Lightning

Glance Of Relief As He Emerged From The Table.

 

"Search Me!" Said Tennelly,  As He Sat Down Again. "Love's An Illusion,

They Say. I Never Tried It,  So I Don't Know."

 

There Was Silence Again In Tennelly's Room. Presently Courtland Got Up

And Said Good-Night. Over In His Own Room He Stood By The Window,

Looking Out Into The Moonlight. The Preacher Had Said Prayer Was Talking

With The Lord Face To Face. That Was A New Idea. Courtland Dropped Upon

His Knees And Talked Aloud To God As He Had Never Opened His Heart To

Living Creature Before. If Prayer Was That,  Why,  Prayer Was Good!

 

Gila,  Standing Bewildered,  Studying Her Pretty,  Discontented Little Face

In The Mirror,  With All Its Masks Laid Aside,  Would Have Shivered In

Fear And Been All The More Uncertain Of Her Success If She Could Have

Known That The Man She Would Have Had For A Lover Was On His Knees

Talking About Her To God. Her Little Naked Soul In A Garden All Alone

With The Lord God,  And A Man Who Was Set To Follow Him!

 

Tennelly Looked Up And Raised His Eyebrows As Courtland Closed The Door.

"Guess You Needn't Have Written That Letter,  After All!" Chuckled Bill

Ward. "I Thought Gila Would Get In Her Little Old Work!"

 

"Well,  It's Written And Mailed,  So That Doesn't Do Any Good Now. And,

Anyway,  It's Always Well To Have More Than One String To Your Bow!"

Growled Tennelly. Courtland In Love! He Wasn't Exactly Sure He Liked It.

Courtland And Gila! What Kind Of A Girl Was Gila,  Anyway? Was She Good

Enough For Court? He Must Look Into This.

 

"Say,  Bill,  Why Don't You Introduce Me To Your Cousin? I Think It's

About Time I Had A Chance To Judge For Myself How Things Are Getting

On," Growled Tennelly,  Presently.

 

"Sure!" Said Bill. "Good Idea! Why Didn't You Mention It Before? How

About Going Now? It's Only Half Past Ten. Court Didn't Stay Very Late,

Did He? No,  It Isn't Too Late For Gila. She Never Goes To Bed Till

Midnight,  Not If There's Anything Interesting On. Wait. I'll Call Her Up

And See. I'm Privileged,  Anyway,  You Know. Cousins Can Do Anything. I'll

Tell Her We're Hungry."

 

So It Came About That An Hour After Gila Had Sat In The Firelight With

Courtland And Listened,  Puzzled,  To His Reverent Talk Of A

Soul-Friendship,  She Ushered Into The Same Room Her Cousin And Tennelly.

She Met Tennelly With A Challenge In Her Eye.

 

Tennelly Had One In His. Their Glances Lingered,  Sparred And Lingered

Again,  And Each Knew That This Was A Notable Meeting.

 

For Tennelly Was Tall And Strikingly Handsome. He Had Those Deep Black

Chapter 21 Pg 121

Eyes That Hold A Maiden's Gaze And Dare A Devil; Yet There Was Behind

His Look Something Strong,  Dashing,  Scholarly. Gila Saw At Once That He

Was Distinguished In His Way,  And Though Her Thoughts Were Strangely

Held By Courtland She Could Not Let One Like This Go By Unchallenged. If

Courtland Did Not Prove Corrigible,  Why,  There Was Still As Good Fish In

The Sea As Ever Was Caught. It Were Well To Have More Than One Hook

Baited. So She Received Tennelly Graciously,  Boldly,  Impressively,  And

In Three Minutes Was Talking With That Daring Intimacy That Young People

Of Her Style Love To Affect; And Tennelly,  Fascinated By Her Charms,  Yet

Seeing Through Them And Letting Her Know He Saw Through Them,  Was

Fencing With Her Delightfully. He Told Himself It Was His Duty For

Courtland's Sake. Yet He Was Interested For His Own Sake And Knew It.

But He Did Not Like The Idea Of Court And This Girl! They Did Not Fit.

Court Was Too Genuine! Too Tender-Hearted! Too Idealistic About Women!

With Himself,  Now,  It Was Different. He Knew Women! Understood This One

At A Glance. She Was "A Peach" In Her Way,  But Not The "Perfect Little

Peach" Court Ought To Have. She Would Flirt All Her Life And Break Old

Court's Heart If He Married Her.

 

So He Laughed And Joked With Gila,  Answering Her Challenging Glances

With Glances Just As Ardent,  While Bill Ward Sat And Watched Them Both,

Chuckling Away To Himself.

 

And Courtland,  On His Knees,  Talked With God!

 

The Next Morning Courtland Awoke With A Pleasant Sensation Of Eagerness

To See What Life Had In Store For Him. Was This Really The Wonderful

Experience Of Lov

Student Of Russian History,  Speaking The Language Fluently,  It Was His Good

Fortune To Spend Several Weeks In Petrograd Immediately Before And After

The Bolshevik Counter-Revolution. He Testifies That The "Freedom Of The

Press Established By Kerensky" Was "Terminated By The Bolsheviki."[27]

This Is Not The Testimony Of "Capitalist Newspapers," But Of Socialists Of

Unquestionable Authority And Standing. The _Dielo Naroda_ Was A Socialist

Paper,  And The Volunteer Venders Of It,  Who Were Brutally Beaten And Shot

Down By Red Guards,  Were Socialist Working-Men.[28] When Oskar Tokoi,  The

Well-Known Revolutionary Finnish Socialist Leader,  Former Prime Minister Of

Finland,  Declares That "Freedom Of Assemblage,  Association,  Free Speech,

And Free Press Is Altogether Destroyed,"[29] The Bolsheviki And Their

Sympathizers Cannot Plead That They Are The Victims Of "Capitalist

Misrepresentation." The Attitude Of The Bolshevik Leaders Toward The

Freedom Of The Press Has Been Frankly Stated Editorially In Pravda,  Their

Official Organ,  In The Following Words:

 

    The Press Is A Most Dangerous Weapon In The Hands Of Our Enemies.

    We Will Tear It From Them,  We Will Reduce It To Impotence. It Is

    The Moment For Us To Prepare Battle. We Will Be Inflexible In Our

    Defense Of The Rights Of The Exploited. The Struggle Will Be

    Decisive. We Are Going To Smite The Journals With Fines,  To Shut

Chapter 21 Pg 122

    Them Up,  To Arrest The Editors,  And Hold Them As Hostages.[30]

 

Is It Any Wonder That Paul Axelrod,  Who Was One Of The Representatives Of

Russia On The International Socialist Bureau Prior To The Outbreak Of The

War,  Has Been Forced To Declare That The Bolsheviki Have "Introduced Into

Russia A System Worse Than Czarism,  Suppressing The Constituent Assembly

And The Liberty Of The Press"?[31] Or That The Beloved Veteran Of The

Russian Revolution,  Nicholas Tchaykovsky,  Should Lament That "The

Bolshevik Usurpation Is The Continuation Of The Government By Which Czarism

Held The Country In An Iron Grip"?[32]

 

 

 

 

Iii

 

Lenine,  Trotzky,  Zinoviev,  And Other Bolshevik Leaders Early Found

Themselves So Much At Variance With The Accepted Socialist Position That

They Decided To Change Their Party Name. They Had Been Social Democrats,  A

Part Of The Social Democratic Party Of Russia. Now Ever Since Bronterre

O'brien First Used The Terms "Social Democrat" And "Social Democracy," In

1839,  Their Meaning Has Been Pretty Well Established. A Social Democrat Is

One Who Aims To Base Government And Industry Upon Democracy. Certainly,

This Cannot Be Said To Be An Accurate Description Of The Position Of Men

Who Believe In The Rule Of A Nation Of One Hundred And Eighty Millions By A

Small Party Of Two Hundred Thousand Or Less--Or Even By An Entire Class

Representing Not More Than Six Per Cent. Of The Population--And Lenine And

His Friends,  Recognizing The Fact,  Decided To Change The Name Of Their

Group To The _Communist Party_,  By Which Name They Are Now Known In Russia.

Lenine Frankly Admits That It Would Be A Mistake To Speak Of This Party As

A Party Of Democracy. He Says:

 

    The Word "Democracy" Cannot Be Scientifically Applied To The

    Communist Party. Since March,  1917,  The Word Democracy Is Simply A

    Shackle Fastened Upon The Revolutionary Nation And Preventing It

    From Establishing Boldly,  Freely,  And Regardless Of All Obstacles

    A New Form Of Power; The Council Of Workmen's,  Soldiers' And

    Peasants' Deputies,  Harbinger Of The Abolition Of Every Form Of

    Authority.[33]

 

The Phrase "Harbinger Of The Abolition Of Every Form Of Authority" Would

Seem To Indicate That Lenine's Ideal Is That Of The Old Nihilists--Or Of

Anarchists Of The Bakuninist School. That Is Very Far From The Truth. The

Phrase In Question Is Merely A Rhetorical Flourish. No Man Has More

Caustically Criticized And Ridiculed The Anarchists For Their Dream Of

Organization Without Authority Than Nikolai Lenine. Moreover,  His

Conception Of Soviet Government Provides For A Very Strong Central

Authority. It Is A Newof State,  But A State,  Nevertheless,  And,  As We

Shall Discover,  Far More Powerful Than The Political State With Which We

Chapter 21 Pg 123

Are Familiar,  Exercising Far Greater Control Over The Life Of The

Individual. It Is Not To Be A Democratic State,  But A Very Despotic One,  A

Dictatorship By A Small But Powerful Ruling Class. It Was Not The Word

"Democracy" Which Lenine Felt To Be A "Shackle Upon The Revolutionary

Nation," But Democracy Itself.

 

The Manner In Which They Betrayed The Constituent Assembly Will Prove The

Complete Hostility Of The Bolsheviki To Democratic Government. In Order To

Excuse And Justify The Bolsheviki's Actions In This Regard,  Their

Supporters In This Country Have Assiduously Circulated Two Statements. They

Are,  First,  That The Provisional Government Purposely And With Malicious

Intent Delayed The Convocation Of The Constituent Assembly,  Hoping To Stave

It Off Altogether; Second,  That Such A Long Time Had Elapsed Between The

Elections And The Convocation That When The Latter Date Was Reached The

Delegates No Longer Represented The True Feeling Of The Electorate.

 

With Regard To The First Of These Statements,  Which Is A Repetition Of A

Charge Made By Trotzky Before The Bolshevik Revolt,  It Is To Be Noted That

It Is Offered In Justification Of The Bolshevik _Coup D'état_. If The

Charge Made Were True,  Instead Of False,  As It Can Easily Be Shown To Be,

It Would Only Justify The Counter-Revolution If The Counter-Revolution

Itself Were Made The Instrument For Insuring The Safety Of The Constituent

Assembly. But The Bolsheviki _Suppressed The Constituent Assembly_. By What

Process Of Reasoning Do We Reach The Result That Because The Provisional

Government Delayed The Convocation Of The Constituent Assembly,  Which The

People Desired,  A Counter-Revolutionary Movement To _Suppress It

Altogether_,  By Force Of Arms,  Was Right And Proper?

 

With Regard To The Second Statement,  Which Is A Repetition Of An Argument

Advanced In Russia,  It Should Be Sufficient To Emphasize A Few Dates. The

Bolsheviki Seized The Power Of Government On November 7th And The Elections

For The Constituent Assembly Took Place On November 25th--Nearly Three

Weeks Later. The Date Set By The Kerensky Government For The Opening Of The

Constituent Assembly Was December 12th And On That Date Some Forty-Odd

Members Put In An Appearance. Recognizing That They Could Not Begin

Business Until A Quorum Appeared,  These Decided To Wait Until At Least A

Quorum Should Be Present. They Did Not Attempt To Do Any Work. What

Happened Is Told In The Following Passages From A Signed Statement By 109

Members--All Socialist-Revolutionists.[34]

 

    On The Appointed Day And Hour Of The Opening Of The Session Of The

    Constituent Assembly ... The Delegates To The Constituent Assembly

    Who Had Arrived In Petrograd Gathered At The Tavrichesky Palace.

    The Elected Representatives Of The People Beheld Innumerable

    Banners And Large Crowds Surrounding The Palace. This Was

    Petrograd Greeting The Representatives Of The People. At The Doors

Chapter 21 Pg 124

    Of The Palace The Picture Changed. There Stood Armed Guards And At

    The Orders Of The Usurpers,  The Bolsheviki,  They Refused To Let

    The Delegates Pass Into The Tavrichesky Palace. It Appeared That,

    In Order To Enter The Building,  The _Delegates Had First To Pay

    Respects To The Commissaire,  A Satellite Of Lenine And Trotzky,

    And There Receive Special Permission_. The Delegates Would Not

    Submit To That; Elected By The People And Equipped With Formal

    Authorization,  They Had The Right To Freely Enter Any Public

    Building Assigned For Their Meeting. The Delegates Decided To

    Enter The Tavrichesky Palace Without Asking The New Authorities,

    And They Succeeded In Doing So. On The First Day The Guards Did

    Not Dare To Lift Their Arms Against The People's Elected

    Representatives And Allowed Them To Enter The Building Without

    Molestation.

 

    There Was No Struggle,  No Violence,  No Sacrifices; The Delegates

    Demandedow Her Away!" Said Courtland,  Speaking

Out Of A Troubled Thought,  As He And The Nurse Stood On The Platform

Watching The Train Move Off. "Do You Think She'll Get Through The

Journey All Right?"

 

"Sure!" Said The Nurse,  Wiping Away A Wistful Tear Furtively. "She's Got

Lots Of Pep. She'll Rally And Get Strong Pretty Soon. She's Had A Pretty

Tough Time The Last Two Years. Lost Her Mother,  Father,  A Sister,  And

This Little Brother. Her Father's Heart Was Broken By Being Asked To

Leave His Church Because He Preached Temperance Too Much. The Martyrs In

This World Didn't All Die In The Dark Ages! They're Having Them Yet!"

 

"But She Looks So Ethereal!" Pursued Courtland. "I Wish I'd Thought To

Suggest You Going Along. We Could Have Trumped Up Some Reason Why You

Had To Have A Vacation."

 

"Couldn't Do It!" Said The Nurse,  Smiling And Patting His Arm. "I

Thought Of It,  But It Wouldn't Work. I Have To Be At The Hospital

To-Morrow For A Very Important Operation. There Isn't Anybody Else In

The Hospital Could Very Well Take My Place. Besides,  She's Sharp As A

Tack,  And You Needn't Think She Doesn't See Through A Lot Of The Things

You've Done For Her! Mark My Words,  You'll Hear From Her Some Day! She

Means To Know The Truth About Those Bills And Pay Every Cent Back! But

Don't You Worry About Her. She'll Get Through All Right. She's Got More

Nerve Than Any Dozen Girls I Know,  And She Doesn't Go Alone Through This

World,  Either. She's Had A Vision,  Too,  Or You'd Never See Her Wearing

That Patient Face With All She's Had To Bear!"

 

"Did It Ever Seem Strange To You That Good People Have So Much Trouble

In This World?" Said Courtland,  Voicing His Same Old Doubting Thought.

 

"Well,  Now _Why_? What's _Trouble_ Going To Be In The Resurrection? We

Won't Mind Then What We Passed Through,  And This World Isn't Forever,

Thank The Lord! If It's Serving His Plan Any For Me To Get More Than

What Seems My Share Of Trouble,  Why,  I'm Willing. Aren't You? The

Trouble Is We Can't See The Plan,  And So We Go Fretting Because It

Doesn't Fit Our Ideas. If It Was Our Plan Now We'd Patiently Bear

Everything,  I Suppose,  To Make It Come Out Right. We Aren't Up High

Enough To Get The Whole View Of The Finished Plan,  So Of Course Lots Of

Things Look Like Mistakes. But If We Trust Him At All,  We Know They

Aren't. And Some Time,  I Suppose,  We'll See The Whole And Then We'll

Understand Why It Was. But I Never Was One To Do Much Fretting Because I

Didn't Understand. I Always Know What My Job Is,  And That's Enough. I'm

Content To Trust The Rest To God. It's A God-Size Job To Run The

Universe,  And I Know I'm Not Equal To It."

 

Her Simple Logic Calmed His Restless Thoughts,  But There Was Still A

Strange Wistfulness In His Heart About Bonnie. She Looked So White And

Resigned And Sad! He Wished She Hadn't Gone Quite So Far Out Of His

Life.

 

Meantime,  Out In The Darkness Of The Night Bonnie's Train Whirled Along,

And Some Time During The Long Hours Between Midnight And Dawning It

Passed In A Rush And A Thunder Of Sound The Express That Was Bearing

Back To Courtland Another Menace To His Peace Of Mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 22 Pg 125

Uncle Ramsey Was Large And Imposing,  With An Effulgent Complexion And A

Prosperous Presence. He Wore A Double-Jeweled Ring On His Apoplectic

Finger,  And A Scarab Scarf-Pin. His Eyes Were Keen And Shifty; His Teeth

Had Acquired The Habit Of Clutching His Fat Black Cigar Viciously While

He Snarled His Rather Loose Lips About Them In Conversation. Uncle

Ramsay Never Looked One In The Face When He Was Talking. He Looked Off

Into Space,  Where He Appeared To Have The Topic Under Discussion In

Visible Form Before Him. He Never Took Up With The Conversation His Host

Offered. He Furnished The Topics Himself And Pinned One Down To Them. It

Really Was Of No Use Whatever To Start Any Subject Unless It Had Been

Previously Announced,  Because It Never Got Further Than The Initiative.

Uncle Ramsey Always Went On With Whatever He Had In Mind. Tennelly Knew

This Tendency,  Realized That In Writing The Letter He Had Taken The Only

Possible Way Of Bringing Courtland To His Uncle's Notice.

 

After An Exceedingly Good Dinner At The Frat. House,  Where Tennelly Did

Not Usually Dine,  And Being Further Reinforced By One Of The Aforesaid

Fat Black Cigars,  Uncle Ramsey Leaned Back In Tennelly's Leather Chair,

And Began:

 

"Now,  Thomas!"

 

Chapter 22 Pg 126

Tennelly Stirred Uneasily. He Despised That "Thomas." His Full Name Was

Llewellyn Thomas Tennelly. At Home They Called Him "Lew." Nobody But

Uncle Ramsey Ever Dared The Hateful Thomas. He Liked To Air The Fact

That His Nephew Was Named After Himself,  The Great Ramsey Thomas.

 

"Suppose You Tell Me About This Man You Have For Me? What Kind Of A

Looking Man Is He?"

 

Uncle Ramsey Screwed Up His Eyes,  Looked To The Middle Distance Where

The Subject Ought To Be,  And Examined Him Critically.

 

"Has--Ah--He--Ah--_Personality_? Personality Is A Great Factor In

Success You Know."

 

Tennelly,  In The Brief Space Allowed Him,  Declared That His Friend Would

Pass This Test.

 

"Well--Ah! And Can He--Ah!--Can He _Lead Men_? Because That Is A Very

Important Point. The Man I Want Must Be A Leader."

 

"I Think He Is."

 

"Um--Ah! And Does He--?" On Down Through A Long List Of Questions.

 

At Last,  After Once More Relighting His Cigar,  Which Had Gone Out

Frequently During The Conversation,  He Turned To His Nephew And Fixed

Him Sharply With A Fat Pale-Blue Eye.

 

"Tell Me The Worst You Know About Him,  Thomas! What Are His Faults?" He

Snapped,  And Settled Back To Squint At His Imaginary Stage Again.

 

"Why--I--Why,  I Don't Think He Has Any," Declared Tennelly,  Shifting

Uneasily In His Chair. He Had A Feeling That Uncle Ramsey Would Get It

Out Of Him Yet. And He Did.

 

"Yes,  I Perceive That He Has! Out With It!" Snapped The Keen Old Bird,

Flinging His Loose Lips About Restively.

 

"It's Only That He's Got A Religious Twist Lately,  Uncle. I Don't Think

It'll Last. I Really Think He Is Getting Over It!"

 

"Religion! Um! Ah! Well,  Now That Might Not Be So Bad--Not For My

Purpose,  You Know. Religion Really Gives A Confidence Sometimes.

Religion! Um! Ah! Not A Bad Trait. Let Me See Him,  Thomas! Let Me See

Him _At Once_!"

 

Tennelly Had Said Nothing To Courtland About The Approaching Uncle,  And

Therefore It Was Wholly A Surprise To Courtland When Tennelly Knocked On

His Door And Dragged Him From His Books To Meet A Chicago Uncle.

 

"He's Come East Looking For The Right Man To Fill A Very Important

Position. It Is Something Along Your Line,  I Guess,  So I Spoke To Him

About You," Whispered Tennelly,  Hastily,  As They Crossed The Hall

Together.

Chapter 22 Pg 127

Face To Face They Stood,  The Financier And The Young Senior,  And Studied

Each Other Keenly For The Fraction Of A Second,  Courtland No Less Cool

And Impressive In His Way Than The Older Man. For Courtland Was Not

Afraid Of Any Man,  And His Natural Attitude Toward All Men Was Challenge

Till He Knew Them. He Stood Straight And Tall And Looked Uncle Ramsey In

The Eye Critically,  Questioningly,  Courteously,  But With No Attempt To

Propitiate; And Not The Slightest Apparent Conception Of The Awesomeness

Of The Occasion Or The Condescension Of The August Personage Whom He Was

Thus Permitted To Meet.

 

And Uncle Ramsey Liked It!

 

True,  He Tried To Fix The Young Man Much As A Cook Fixes A Roast With A

Skewer,  To Be Put Over The Fire; But Courtland Didn't Skew. He Just Sat

Down Indifferently And Looked The Man Over; Smiled Pleasantly Now And

Then,  And Listened; But He Didn't Give An Inch. Even When The Marvelous

Proposition Was Made To Him Which Might Change The Whole Course Of His

Future Life And Cover His Name With Glory (?) Courtland Never Flickered

An Eyelash.

 

"He Took It As Calmly As If I'd Been Offering Him Toast With His Tea

When He Already Had Bread And Jam,  The Young Whelp!" Marveled Uncle

Ramsey,  Delightedly,  After Courtland Had Thanked Him,  Promised To Think

It Over,  And Gone Back To His Room. "He's Got The Personality,  All

Right! He'll Do! But What's His Idea In Being So Reluctant? Didn't The

Offer Strike Him As Bigticular Group--A Peasants' Soviet,  For Example. Another Type,  More

Important,  Roughly Corresponds To The Central Labor Union In An American

City,  In That It Is Composed Of Representatives Of Workers Of All Kinds.

These Delegates Are,  In The Main,  Chosen By The Workers In The Shops And

Factories And In The Meetings Of The Unions. The Anti-Bolshevist

Socialists,  Such As The Mensheviki And The Socialist-Revolutionists,  Were

Not Opposed To Soviets As Working-Class Organizations. On The Contrary,

They Approved Of Them,  Supported Them,  And,  Generally,  Belonged To Them.

 

They Were Opposed Only To The Theory That These Soviets,  Recruited In A

More Or Less Haphazard Manner,  As Such Organizations Must Necessarily Be,

Were Better Adapted To The Governing Of A Great Country Like Russia Than A

Legal Body Which Received Its Mandate In Elections Based Upon Universal,

Equal,  Direct,  And Secret Suffrage. No One Ever Pretended That The Soviets

Represented All The Workers Of Russia--Including Peasants In That Term--Or

Even A Majority Of Them. No One Ever Pretended That The Soviet,  As Such,

Was A Stable And Constant Factor. New Soviets Were Always Springing Up And

Others Dying Out. Many Existed Only In Name,  On Paper. _There Never Has

Been An Accurate List Of The Soviets Existing In Russia_. Many Lists Have

Been Made,  But Always By The Time They Could Be Tabulated And Published

There Have Been Many Changes. For These And Other Reasons Which Will

Suggest Themselves To The Mind Of Any Thoughtful Reader,  Many Of The

Leaders Of The Revolutionary Movement In Russia Have Doubted The Value Of

The Soviet As A _Unit Of Government,  While Highly Valuing It As A Unit Of

Chapter 22 Pg 128

Working-Class Organization And Struggle_.

 

Back Of All The Strife Between The Bolsheviki Centered Around The Soviets

And The Socialist-Revolutionists And Mensheviki,  Centered Around The

Constituent Assembly,  Was A Greater Fact Than Any We Have Been Discussing,

However. The Bolsheviki With Their Doctrinaire Marxism Had Carried The

Doctrine Of The Class Struggle To Such Extreme Lengths That They Virtually

Placed The Great Mass Of The Peasants With The Bourgeoisie. The Revolution

Must Be Controlled By The Proletariat,  They Argued. The Control Of The

Government And Of Industry By The People,  Which Was The Slogan Of The Old

Democracy,  Will Not Do,  For The Term "The People" Includes Bourgeois

Elements. Even If It Is Narrowed By Excluding The Great Capitalists And

Landowners,  Still It Embraces The Lesser Capitalists,  Small Landowners,

Shopkeepers,  And The Petty Bourgeoisie In General. These Elements Weaken

The Militancy Of The Proletariat. What Is Needed Is The Dictatorship Of The

Proletariat. Now,  Only A Very Small Part Of The Peasantry,  The Very Poor

Peasants,  Can Be Safely Linked To The Proletariat--And Even These Must Be

Carefully Watched. It Was A Phase Of The Old And Familiar Conflict Between

Agrarian And Industrial Groups In The Socialist Movement. It Is Not Very

Many Years Since The Socialist Party Of America Was Convulsed By A Similar

Discussion. Could The Farmer Ever Be A Genuine And Sincere And Trustworthy

Socialist? The Question Was Asked In The Party Papers In All Seriousness,

And In One Or Two State Organizations Measures Were Taken To Limit The

Number Of Farmers Entering The Party,  So That At All Times There Might Be

The Certainty Of A Preponderance Of Proletarian Over Farmer Votes.

 

Similar Distrust,  Only Upon A Much Bigger Scale,  Explains The Fight For And

Against The Constituent Assembly. Lenine And His Followers Distrusted The

Peasants As A Class Whose Interests Were Akin To The Class Of Small

Property-Owners. He Would Only Unite With The Poor,  Propertyless Peasants.

The Leaders Of The Peasantry,  On The Other Hand,  Supported By The More

Liberal Marxians,  Would Expand The Meaning Of The Term "Working Class" And

Embrace Within Its Meaning All The Peasants As Well As All City Workers,

Most Of The Professional Classes,  And So On. We Can Get Some Idea Of This

Strife From A Criticism Which Lenine Directs Against  Must Leave For

Boston That Evening; But He Finally Sent A Telegram Instead And Decided

To Remain Until The Next Night. There Were Matters In The City He Was

Intending To Look After On His Return,  And Of Course He Could Do It Now

Instead. He Felt It Was Important That That Young Man Should Be Landed

Before He Had A Chance To Do Too Much Thinking. Moreover,  He Was Piqued

That A Youngster Like That Should Presume To Consider Turning Down A Job

Like The One He Was Offering Him.

 

If Courtland Had Tried To Explain To Tennelly And His Uncle Just Why

This Offer,  Which Would Have Delighted Him So Much Three Months Before,

Was Hanging In The Balance Of His Mind,  They Would Scarcely Have

Understood. He Would Have To Tell Them Of The Presence Which Was By His

Side,  Which Had Been Very Real To Him As He Stood In Tennelly's Room

Listening To Uncle Ramsey That Afternoon,  And Which Had Hovered By Him

Chapter 22 Pg 129

Since,  So Close,  So Strong,  With That Pervading,  Commanding Nearness

That Demanded His Utmost Attention. He Would Have Had To Tell Them That

He Was Under Orders Now,  Being Led,  And That Every Step Was New And

Untried; He Must Look Into The Face Of His Companion And Guide,  And Find

Out If This Was The Way He Was To Go!

 

Something,  Somewhere Was Holding Him Back. He Did Not Know Why,  He Did

Not See For How Long. He Simply Could Not Make That Decision To-Night!

He Must Await Permission Before Moving.

 

Possibly The Trip To The Factory The Next Day,  Which He Had Promised To

Take,  Might Give Him Some Light In The Matter. Possibly He Would Find

Counsel Somewhere. But Where? He Thought Of Gila. He Took Out A Lovely

Photograph Of Her That She Had Given Him Before He Left Her Sunday

Night--A Charming,  Airy,  Idealistic Thing Of Earth And Fire That Had

Lain Innocently Open Upon The Library Table Where Some One (?) Had Left

It Earlier In The Day. He Stood It Up On His Desk And Studied The

Spirited Will-O'-The-Wisp Face! Then He Turned Away Sadly And Shook His

Head. She Would Not Understand. Not Yet! Some Time,  When He Had Told Her

About The Presence--But Not Yet! She Could Not Understand Because She

Had Not Seen For Herself.

 

Tennelly And His Uncle Went Down-Town In The Morning And Took Lunch

Together. Courtland Was To Meet Them At The Factory At Three O'clock,

But Somehow He Missed Them. Perhaps It Was Intention. Courtland Went

Early. He Wanted To See Things For Himself; Went Alone First. Afterward

He Could Go The Rounds To Satisfy Mr. Thomas,  But First He Would See It

Alone.

 

Then,  After All,  It Was The Rev. Robert Burns Who Met Him At The Door

And Took Him Through The Factory,  Bent On Seeing Some Parishioner On An

Errand Of Love. And There Was That Strange Sense Of The Presence Having

Been There Before Them,  Walking About Among The Machinery,  Looking At

The Tired Face Of One,  Sorrowing Over The Wrinkles In Another Forehead,

Pitying The Weary Hands That Toiled,  Blessing The Faithful! It Reminded

Him Of The Morgue In That. For A Minute He Began To Think That If The

Presence Was Here In This Peculiar Sense,  Then,  Of Course,  It Was An

Indication That He Was Needed Here To Work For These People,  As Uncle

Ramsey Had Tried With Strange Worldly Wisdom To Make Him Understand. But

Then,  Suddenly,  He Caught A Glimpse Of The Face Of The Little Minister,

White Under Its Freckles,  With A Righteous Wrath As He Fixed His Gaze

Sternly On The Door At The End Of The Long Room. He Looked Up Quickly To

Hear The Click Of A Key In A Lock As The Foreman Passed From One Room To

Another.

 

He Glanced Down At The Minister And Their Eyes Met.

 

"They Lock Them In Here Like Sheep In A Pen. If A Fire Should Break Out

They Would All Die!" Said The Minister Under His Breath. His Lips Were

Trembling With The Helplessness Of Himself Against The Power Of A Great

Trust.

 

"You Don't Say!" Said Courtland,  Startled. It Was His First View Of

Conditions Of This Sort. He Looked About With Eyes Alive To Things He

Chapter 22 Pg 130

Had Not Seen Before. "But I Thought This Was A Model Factory! Isn't It

Absolutely Fire-Proof?"

 

"Somewhat So,  On The _Out_Side!" Shrugged Burns. "It's A Whited

Sepulcher,  That's What It Is. Beautiful Marble And Vines,  Beautiful

Rest-Room And Library--For The _Visitors_ To Rest And Read In--Beautiful

Restaurant Where The Girls Must Buy Their Meals At The Company's Prices

Or Go Without; Beautiful Outside Everywhere; But It's Rotten,

_Absolutely Rotten_ All Through! Look At The Width Of That Staircase!

That's The One The Employees Use. The Visitors Only See The Broad Way By

Which You Came Up. Look At Those Machines! All Painted And Gilded! They

Are Old Models And Twice As Heavy To Work As The New Ones,  But We Can't

Get Them To Make Changes. Look At Those Seats,  Put There To Impress The

Visitors! The Fact Is Not One Of The Hands Dare Use Them,  Except A

Minute Now And Then When The Foreman Happens To Leave The Room! They

Know They Will Get Docked In Their Pay If They Are Caught Sitting Down

At Their Work! And Yet It Is Always Flaunted Before The Visitors That

The Workmen Can Sit Down When They Like. So They Can,  But They Can Go

Home Without A Pay-Envelope If They Do,  When Saturday Night Comes. Oh,

There Is Enough Here To Make One's Blood Boil! You're Interested In

These Things? I Wish You'd Let Me Tell You More Some Time. About The

Long Hours,  The Stifling Air In Some Rooms,  And The Little Children

Working In Spite Of The Law! I Wish Men Like You Would Come Down Here

And Help Clean This Section Out And Make Conditions Different! Why Don't

You Come And Help Me?"

 

The Minister Laid His Hand On Courtland's Arm,  And Instantly It Seemed

As If The Presence Came And Stood Beside Him And Said: "Here! This Is

Your Work!"

 

With A Great Conviction In His Heart Courtland Turned And Followed Burns

Down The Broad Marble Stairs Out To The Office,  Where He Left Word For

Tennelly And His Uncle That He Had Been There And Had To Go,  But Would

See Them Again That Evening,  And Then Down The Street To Burns's Common

Little Boarding-House,  Where They Sat Down And Talked The Rest Of The

Afternoon. Burns Opened Courtland's Eyes To Many Things That He Had Not

Known Were In The World. It Was As If He Laid His Hands Upon Him And

Said,  As Of Old: "Brother Saul,  Receive Thy Sight!"

 

When Courtland Went Back To The University His Decision Was Made. He

Felt That He Was Under Orders,  And The Presence Would Not Go With Him In

Any Such Commission As Uncle Ramsey Had Proposed. His Only Regret Was

That Tennelly Would Not Understand. Dear Old Tennelly,  Who Had Tried To

Do His Best For Him!

 

The Denouement Began In Tennelly's Room After Supper,  When Courtland

Courteously And Firmly Thanked Uncle Ramsey,  But _Declined_ The Offer!

 

Uncle Ramsey Grew Apoplectic In The Face And Glared At The Young Man,

Finally Bringing Out An Explosive: "What! You _Decline_?"

 

Uncle Ramsey Spluttered And Swore. He Tore Up And Down The Small

Confines Of The Room Like An Angry Bull,  Bellowing Forth Anathemas And

Arguments In A Confused Jumble. He Enlarged On The Insult He Had Been

Chapter 22 Pg 131

Given,  And The Opportunity That Was Being Lost Never To Be Offered

Again. He Called Courtland A "Trifling Idiot," And A Few Other Gentle

Phrases,  And Demanded Reasons For Such An Unprecedented Decision.

 

Courtland's Only Answer Was: "I Am Afraid It Isn't Going To Fit In With

My Views Of Life,  Mr. Thomas. I Have Thought It Over Carefully And I

Cannot Accept Your Offer."

 

"Why Not? Isn't It Enough Money?" Roared The Mad Financier. "I'll Double

Your Salary!"

 

"Money Has Nothing To Do With It," Said Courtland,  Quietly. "That Would

Make No Difference." He Was Sorry For This Scene For Tennelly's Sake.

 

"Well,  Have You Something Else In View?"

 

"No,  Not Definitely."

 

"Then You're A Fool!" Said Uncle Ramsey,  And Further Stated What Kind

Of A Fool He Was,  Several Times,  _Vigorously_. After Which He Mopped His

Beaded Brow With Trembling,  Agitated Hands,  And Sat Down. The Old Bull

Was Baffled At Last.

 

Uncle Ramsey Blustered All The Way To The Train With His Nephew. "I've

Got To Have That Young Man,  Thomas. There's No Two Ways About It. A

Fellow That Can Stand Out The Way He Did Against Ramsey Thomas Is Just

The Man I Want. He's Got Personality. Why,  A Man Like That At Work For

Us Would Be Worth Millions! He Would Give Confidence To Every One! Why,

We Could Make Him A Senator In A Few Years,  And There's No Telling Where

He Wouldn't Stop! He's The Kind Of A Man Who Could Be Put In The White

House If Things Shaped Themselves Right. I've _Got_ To Have Him,  Thomas,

And No Mistake! Now,  I'm Going To Put It Up To You To Find Out The

Secret Of This Thing. You Just Get His Number And We'll Meet Him On Any

Reasonable Proposition He Wants To Put Up. Say,  Thomas,  Isn't There A

Girl Anywhere That Could Influence Him?"

 

"Yes,  There's A Girl!"

 

"The Very Thing! You Put Her Wise About It,  And When I Come Back Next

Week I'll Stop Off Again And See What I Can Do With Her? You Can Take Me

To Call On Her,  You Know. Can You Work It,  Thomas?"

 

Tennelly Said He'd Try,  And Went Around To See Gila On His Way Back To

The University.

 

Gila Listened To The Story Of Uncle Ramsey's Offer With Bated Breath And

Averted Gaze. She Would Not Show Tennelly How Much This Meant To Her.

But In Her Eyes There Grew A Determination That Was Not To Be Denied.

 

She Planned A Campaign With Tennelly,  Coolly,  And With A Light Kind Of

Glee That Fooled Him Completely. He Saw That She Was Entering Into The

Spirit Of The Thing And Had No Idea She Had Any Other Interest Than To

Please Her Cousin,  And Achieve A Kind Of Triumph Herself In Making

Courtland Do The Thing He Had Vowed Not To Do.

Chapter 23 Pg 132

Was Off In The Machine Arranging For A Man To Do The Spring Plowing. She

Knew It By Heart Before He Got Back,  And Stood At Her Trysting Window

With Her Cheek Against The Old Hat,  Watching The Sunset And Thinking It

Over When The Car Came Chugging Contentedly Down The Road.

 

Father Waved His Hand Boyishly As He Turned In At The Big Gate,  And

Mother Was Out On The Side Door-Step Waiting As He Came To A Halt.

 

"Heard Anything Yet?" He Asked,  Eagerly.

 

"Yes. A Nice,  Dear Letter!" Mother Held It Up,  "Hurry Up And Come In And

I'll Read It To You."

 

But Father Couldn't Wait To Put Away The Machine. He Bounded Out Like A

Four-Year-Old And Came Right In Then,  Regardless Of The Fact That It Was

Getting Dark And He Might Run Into The Door-Jamb Putting Away The

Machine Later.

 

He Settled Down,  Overcoat And All,  Into The Big Chair In The Kitchen To

Listen; And Mother Put On Her Spectacles In Such A Hurry That She Got

Them Upside Down And Had To Begin Over Again.

 

     You Dear Mother Marshall! [The Letter Began.]

     And Dear Father Marshall,  Too!

 

     I Think It Is Just The Most Wonderful Thing That I Ever

     Heard Of That You Are Willing To Invite A Stranger Like Me

     To Visit You! At First I Thought It Wasn't Right To Accept

Chapter 23 Pg 133

     Such Great Kindness From People I Never Saw,  And Who Didn't

     Know Whether They Could Even Like Me Or Not. But Afterward

     Mr. Courtland Told Me About Your Stephen And That You Had

     Suffered,  Too! And Then I Knew That I Might Take You At Your

     Word And Come For A Little While To Get The Comfort I Need

     So Much! Even Then I Couldn't Have Done It If Mr. Courtland

     And My Nurse Hadn't Told Me They Were Sure I Could Get

     Something To Do And So Be Able To Repay You For All This

     Kindness. If I Can Really Be Of Any Comfort To You In Your

     Loneliness I Shall Be So Glad. But I'm Afraid I Could Never

     Even Half Fill The Place Of So Fine A Son As You Must Have

     Had. Mr. Courtland Has Told Me How Grandly He Died. He Saw

     Him,  You Know,  At The Very Last Minute,  And Saw All He Did

     To Save Others. But If You Will Let Me Love You Both I Shall

     Be So Grateful. All That I Had On Earth Are Gone Home To God

     Now,  And The World Looks So Long And Hard And Sad To Me! I

     Do Hope You Can Love Me A Little While I Stay,  And That You

     Will Not Let Me Make You Any Trouble. Please Don't Go To Any

     Work To Get Ready For Me. I Will Gladly Do Anything That Is

     Necessary When I Get There. I Am Quite Able To Work Now; And

     If I Have A Place Where I Can Feel That Somebody Cares

     Whether I Live Or Die It Will Not Be So Hard To Face The

     Future. A Great,  Strange City Is An Awful Place For A Girl

     That Has A Heavy Heart!

 

     I Am So Glad That You Know Jesus Christ. It Makes Me Feel At

     Home Before I Get There. My Dear Father Was A Minister.

 

     They Wouldn't Let Me Go And Pack Up,  So I Had To Do The Best

     I Could With Directing The Kind Friends Who Did It For Me. I

     Have Taken You At Your Word And Had Mother's Sewing-Machine

     And A Box Of My Little Brother's Things Sent With My Trunk.

     But If They Are In The Way I Can Sell Them Or Give Them

     Away. And I Don't Want You To Feel That I Am Going To

     Presume Upon Your Kindness And Settle Down On You

     Indefinitely. Just As Soon As I Get A Chance To Work I Must

     Take It,  And I Shall Want To Repay You For All You Have Done

     For Me. You Have Sent Me A Great Deal More Money Than I

     Need.

 

     I Start Wednesday Evening On The Through Express. I Have

     Marked A Time-Table And Am Sending It Because We Are Unable

     To Find Out Just What Time I Can Make Connections From

     Grant's Junction,  Where They Say I Have To Change. Perhaps

     You Will Know. But Don't Worry About Me; I'll Find My Way To

     You As Soon As I Can Get There. I Am Praying All The Time

     That I Shall Not Disappoint You. And Now Till I See You,

 

                   Sincerely And Gratefully,

                                     Rose Bonner Brentwood.

 

"It Couldn't Be Improved On," Declared Mother,  Beamingly. "It's Just

What I'd Have Wanted Her To Say If I'd Been Planning It All Out,  Only

More So!"

Chapter 23 Pg 134

Forgot. We'd Ought To Have Sent Her Word We Would Meet Her At The

Station,  And What Time The Train Left Grant's Junction,  And All! Now

That's Too Bad!"

 

"Now Don't You Worry,  Father. She'll Find Her Way. Like As Not The

Conductor Will Have A Time-Table And Be Able To Tell Her All About The

Trains. But I Certainly Do Wish We Had Let Her Know We Would Meet Her."

 

They Were Still Worrying About It That Night At Nine O'clock While

Father Wound The Kitchen Clock And Mother Put A Mackerel Asoak For

Breakfast. Suddenly The Telephone In The Next Room Gave A Whir,  And Both

Father And Mother Jumped As If They Had Been Shot,  Looking At Each Other

In Bewildered Question As They Hastened To The 'Phone.

 

It Was Father Who Took Down The Receiver. "A Telegram? For Mr. Seth

Marshall! Yes,  I'm Listening! Write It Down,  Mother! A Telegram!"

 

"Mercy! Perhaps She Wasn't Well Enough To Start!" Gasped Mother,  Putting

Her Pencil In Place.

 

     Miss Brentwood Left To-Night At Nine-Fifteen On Express

     Number Ten,  Car Alicia Lower Berth Number Eight. Please Let

     Me Know If She Arrives Safely.

 

                                             Paul Courtland.

 

"Now Isn't That Thoughtful Of Him!" He Said,  As He Hung Up The Receiver.

"He Must Have Sensed We Wanted To Send Her Word,  And Now We Can Do It!"

 

"Send Her Word!" Said Mother,  Bewildered.

 

"Why,  Surely! Haven't You Read In The Papers How They Send Messages To

Trains That Are Moving? It's Great,  Isn't It,  Mother? To Think This

Little Dinky Telephone Puts You And Me Out Here On This Farm In Touch

With All The World."

 

"Do You Mean You Can Send A Telegram To Her On Board The Train,  Seth?"

Asked Mother,  In Astonishment.

 

"Sure!" Said Father. "We've Got All The Numbers Of Everything. Just Send

To That Express Train That Left To-Night. What Was It--Express Number

Ten,  And So On,  And It'll Be Sent Along And Get To Her."

 

"Well,  I Think I'd Ask Her To Answer Then,  To Make Sure She Got It. I

Think That's A Mighty Uncertain Way To Send Messages To People Flying

Along On An Express Train. If You Don't Get Any Word From Her You'll

Never Know Whether She Got It Or Not,  And Then You Won't Know Whether To

Meet Her At Sloan's Or Maitland," Said Mother,  With A Worried Pucker On

Her Forehead.

 

"Sure!" Said Father,  Taking Down The Receiver. "I Can Do That."

 

Chapter 23 Pg 135

"It's Just Wonderful,  Seth,  How Much You Know About Little Important

Things Like That!" Sighed Mother,  When The Telegram Was Sent. "Now,  I

Think We Better Go Right To Bed,  For I've Got To Get To Baking Early In

The Morning. I Want To Have Bread And Pies And Doughnuts Fresh When She

Comes."

 

It Was While They Were Eating Breakfast That The Answer Came:

 

     Telegram Received. Will Come To Sloan's Station. Having

     Comfortable Journey.                       R.B.B.

 

"Now Isn't That Just Wonderful!" Said Mother,  Sitting Back Weakly Behind

The Coffee-Pot And Wiping Away An Excited Tear With The Corner Of Her

Apron. "To Think That Can Be Done! Now,  Wouldn't It Be Just Beautiful If

We Had Telephones To Heaven! Think,  If We Could Get Word From Stephen

To-Day,  How Happy We'd Be!"

 

"Why,  We Have!" Said Father. "Wait!" And He Reached Over To The Little

Stand By The Window And Grasped The Worn Old Bible. "Here! Listen To

This!

 

     "For This We Say Unto You By The Word Of The Lord,  That We

     Which Are Alive And Remain Unto The Coming Of The Lord Shall

     Not Prevent Them Which Are Asleep. For The Lord Himself

     Shall Descend From Heaven With A Shout,  With The Voice Of

     The Archangel,  And With The Trump Of God: And The Dead In

     Christ Shall Rise First: Then We Which Are Alive And Remain

     Shall Be Caught Up Together With Them In The Clouds,  To Meet

     The Lord In The Air: And So Shall We Ever Be With The Lord.

     Wherefore Comfort One Another With These Words.

 

"There,  Mother! Ain't That Just As Good As Any Telegram From A Moving

Train? And It's Signed With His Own Seal And Signature! It Means He's

Heard Our Sorrow About Stephen's Leaving Us,  And He Heard It Ages Before

We Felt It Ourselves,  And Wrote This Down For Us! Sent Us A Telegram

This Morning,  Just To Comfort Us! I Reckon That Meeting With Stephen And

The Lord In The Air Is Going To Knock The Spots Clean Out Of This Little

Old Meeting To-Morrow Morning Down At Sloan's Station. We Won't Need Our

Ottymobeel Any More After That. We'll Have _Wings_,  Mother! How'll You

Like To Fly?"

 

Mother Gave A Little Gasp Of Joy And Smiled At Father Like A Rainbow

Through Her Tears. "That's So,  Father! We Don't Need Telephones To

Heaven,  Do We? I Guess His Words Cover All Our Needs If We'd Only

Remember To Look For Them. Now,  Father,  I Must Get At Those Doughnuts!

Was You Going To Take The Machine And Run Down To Town And See If Those

Books Have Come Yet? They Surely Ought To Be Here By This Time. Then

Don't Forget To Fix That Fire Up In The Bedroom So It'll Be All Ready To

Light When She Gets Here. Isn't It Funny,  Father,  We Don't Know How She

Looks! Not In The Least. And If Two Girls Should Get Off The Train At

Sloan's Station We Wouldn't Know Which Was The Right One!"

 

"Well _I Should_!" Declared Father. "I'm Dead Certain There Ain't Two

Girls In The Whole Universe Could Have Written That Letter,  And If You'd

Chapter 23 Pg 136

Put Any Other One Down With Her,  And I Saw Them Side By Side,  I Could

Tell First Off Which She Was!"

 

So They Helped Each Other Through That Last Exciting Day,  Finding

Something To Do Up To The Very Last Minute The Next Morning Before It

Was Time To Start To Sloan's Station To Meet The Train.

 

Mother Would Go Along,  Of Course. She Pictured Herself Standing For

Hours Beside That Kitchen Window With Her Cheek Against The Old Hat,

Waiting,  And Wondering What Had Happened That They Hadn't Come,  And She

Couldn't See It That Way. So She Left The Dinner In Such Stages Of

Getting Ready That It Could Be Soon Brought To Completion,  And Wrapped

Herself In Her Big Gray Cloak.

 

Father Went Faster Than He Had Ever Been Known To Go Since He Got The

Car,  And Mother Never Even Noticed. He Got A Panic Lest His Watch Might

Be Out Of The Way And The Train Arrive Before They Got There. So They

Arrived At The Station Almost An Hour Ahead Of The Train.

 

"Oh,  I'm So Glad It's A Pretty Day!" Said Mother Marshall,  Slipping Her

Gloved Hands In Her Sleeves To Keep From Shivering With Excitement.

 

Mother Marshall Sat Quite Decorously In The Automobile Till The Train

Drew Up To The Platform And People Began To Get Out. But When Bonnie

Stepped Down From The Car She Forgot All About Her Doubts As To How They

Would Know Her,  And Jumped Right Out On The Platform Without Waiting To

Be Helped. She Rushed Up To Bonnie,  Saying,  "This Is Our Bonnie,  Isn't

It?" And Folded Her Arms About The Girl,  Forgetting Entirely That She

Hadn't Meant To Use The Name Until The Girl Gave Her Permission; That

She Had No Right To Know The Name Even,  Wasn't Supposed To Have Heard Of

It,  And Was Sort Of Giving The Young Man Away As It Were.

 

But It Didn't Matter! Bonnie Was So Glad To Hear Her Own Name Called In

That Endearing Tone That She Just Put Her Face Down In Mother Marshall's

Comfortable Neck And Cried. She Couldn't Help It,  Right There While The

Train Was Still At The Station And The Other Travelers Were Peering

Curiously Out Of The Sleeper At The Beautiful Pale Girl In Black Who Was

Being Met By That Nice Old Couple With The Automobile. Somehow It Made

Them All Feel Glad,  She Had Looked So Sad And Alone All The Journey.

 

What A Ride That Was Home Again To The Farm,  With Mother Marshall

Cuddling And Crooning To Her: "Oh,  My Dear Pretty Child! To Think You've

Really Come All This Long Way To Comfort Us!" And Father Running The Old

Machine At An Unheard Of Rate Of Speed,  Slamming Along Over The Road As

If He Had Been Sent For In Great Haste,  And Reaching His Big Fur Glove

Back Now And Then To Pat The Old Buffalo Robe That Was Tucked Snugly

Over Bonnie's Lap.

 

Bonnie Herself Was Fairly Overcome And Couldn't Get Her Equilibrium At

All. She Had Thought These Must Be Wonderful People To Be Inviting A

Stranger And Doing All They Were Doing,  But Such A Reception As This She

Had Never Dreamed Of.

 

"Oh,  You Are So Good To Me!" Sobbed Bonnie,  With A Smile Through 

Chapter 23 Pg 137

Tears. "I Know I'm Acting Like A Baby,  But I Can't Seem To Help It. I've

Had Nobody So Long,  And Now To Be Treated Like This,  I Just Can't Stand

It! It Seems As If I'd Got Home!"

 

"Why,  Sure! That's What You Have!" Said Father,  In His Big,  Hearty

Voice.

 

"Put Your Head Right Down On My Shoulder And Cry If You Want To,  My

Pretty!" Said Mother Marshall,  Pulling Her Softly Over Toward Her. "You

Can't Think How Good It Is To Have You Here! Father And I Were So Afraid

You Wouldn't Come! We Thought You Mightn't Be Willing To Come So Far To

Utter Strangers!"

 

So It Went On All The Way,  All Of Them So Happy They Didn't Quite Know

What They Were Saying.

 

Then,  When They Got To The House Even Father Was So Far Gone That He

Couldn't Let Them Go Up-Stairs Alone. He Just Had To Leave The Machine

Standing By The Kitchen Door And Carry That Little Hand-Bag Up As An

Excuse To See How She Would Like The Room.

 

Bonnie,  Pulling Off Her Gloves,  Entered The Room When Mother Opened The

Door. She Looked Around Bewildered A Moment,  As If She Had Stepped From

The Middle Of Winter Into A Summer Orchard. Then She Cried Out With

Delight:

 

"Oh! How Perfectly Beautiful! You Don't Mean Me To Have This Lovely

Room? It Isn't Right! A Stranger And A Pauper!"

 

"Nothing Of The Kind!" Growled Father,  Patting Her On The Shoulder.

"Just A Daughter Come Home!"

 

Then He Beat A Hasty Retreat To The Fireplace And Touched A Match To The

Fire Already Laid,  While Mother,  Purring Like A Contented Old Pussy,

Pushed The Bewildered Girl Into The Big Flowered Chair In Front Of The

Fire And Began Unfastening Her Coat And Taking Off Her Hat,  Reverently,

Half In Awe,  For She Was Not Used To Girl's Fixings,  And They Held

Almost As Much Mystery For Her As If She Had Been A Man.

 

In The Midst Of It All Mother Remembered That Dinner Ought To Be Eaten

At Once,  And That Bonnie Must Have A Chance To Wash Her Face And

Straighten Her Hair Before Dinner.

 

So Father And Mother,  With Many A Reluctant Lingering And Last Word,  As

If They Were Not Going To See Her For A Month,  Finally Bustled Off

Together. In Just No Time At All Bonnie Was Down There,  Too,  Begging To

Be Allowed To Help,  And Declaring Herself Perfectly Able,  Although Her

White Face And The Dark Rings Under Her Tired Eyes Belied Her. Mother

Marshall Was Not Sure,  After All,  But She Ought To Have Put Bonnie To

Bed And Fed Her With Chicken Broth And Toast Instead Of Letting Her Come

Down-Stairs To Eat Stewed Chicken,  Little Fat Biscuits With Gravy,  And

The Most Succulent Apple Pie In The World,  With A Creamy Glass Of Milk

To Make It Go Down.

 

Chapter 23 Pg 138

Father Had Just Finished Trying To Make Bonnie Take A Second Helping Of

Everything,  When He Suddenly Dropped The Carving-Knife And Fork With A

Clatter And Sprang Up From His Chair:

 

"I Declare To Goodness,  Mother,  If I Didn't Forget!" He Said,  And Rushed

Over To The Telephone.

 

"Why,  That's So!" Cried Mother. "Don't Forget To Tell Him How Much We

Love Her!"

 

Bonnie Looked From One To The Other Of Them In Astonishment.

 

"It's That Young Man!" Explained Mother. "He Wanted We Should Telegraph

If You Got Here All Safe. You Know He Sent Us A Message After He Put You

On The Train."

 

"How Very Thoughtful Of Him!" Said Bonnie,  Earnestly. "He Is The Most

Wonderful Young Man! I Can't Begin To Tell You All He Did For Me,  A Mere

Stranger! And So That Explains How You Knew Where To Send Your Message.

I Puzzled A Good Deal Over That."

 

Four Hours Later Courtland,  Coming Up To His Room After Basket-Ball

Practice,  A Hot Shower,  And A Swim In The Pool,  Found The Telegram:

 

     Traveler Arrived Safely. Bore The Journey Well. Many Thanks

     For The Introduction. Everybody Happy; If You Don't Believe

     It Come And See For Yourself.

 

                          Father And Mother Marshall.

 

Courtland Read It And Looked Dreamily Out Of The Window,  Trying To Fancy

Bonnie In Her New Home. Then He Said Aloud,  With Conviction,  "Some Time

I Shall Go Out There And See!"

 

Just Then Some One Knocked At His Door And Handed In A Note From Gila.

 

     Dear Paul,--Come Over This Evening,  I Want To See

     You About Something Very Special.

 

                       Hastily,

                               Gila.

Chapter 24 Pg 139

Gila's Note Came To Courtland As A Happy Surprise. He Had Not Expected

To See Her Until The Next Evening. Not That He Had Brooded Much Over The

Matter. He Was Too Busy And Too Sanely Healthy To Do That. Besides,  He

Was Only As Yet Questioning Within Himself Whether He Was Going To Fall

In Love. The Sensation So Far Was Exceedingly Pleasurable,  And He Was

Ready For The Whole Thing When It Should Arrive And Prove Itself; But At

Present He Was Just In That Quiescent Stage When Everything Seemed

Significant And Delightfully Interesting.

 

He Had Firmly Resolved That The Next Time He Saw Gila He Would Tell Her

Of His Own Heart Experience With Regard To The Presence. He Realized

That He Must Go Carefully,  And Not Shock Her,  For He Had Begun To See

That All Her Prejudices Would Be Against Taking Any Stock In Such An

Experience. He Had Only So Shortly Himself Come From A Like Position

That He Could Well Understand Her Extreme Views; Her What Amounted

Almost To Repugnance,  Toward Hearing Anything About It. But He Would

Make Her See The Whole Thing,  Just As He Had Seen It.

 

Now Gila Had No Notion Of Allowing Any Such Recital As Courtland Was

Planning. She Had Her Stage All Set For Entirely Another Scene,  And She

Had On Her Most Charming Mood. She Was Wearing A Little Frock Of

Pale-Blue Wool,  So Simple That A Child Of Ten Might Have Worn It Under

A White Ruffled Apron. The Neck Was Decorated With A Soft 'Kerchief-Like

Collar. Not Even A Pin Marred The Simplicity Of Her Costume. Her Hair,

Too,  Was Simpler Than Usual,  Almost Carrying Out The Childish Idea With

Its Soft Looping Away From The Face. Little Heelless Black-Satin

Slippers Were Tied With Narrow Black Ribbons Quaintly Crossed And

Recrossed Over The Slim,  Blue-Silk Ankles,  Carrying Out The Charming

Idea Of A Modest,  Simple Maiden. Nothing Could Be More Coy And Charming

Than The Way She Swept Her Long Black Lashes Down Upon Her Pearly

Cheeks. Her Great Eyes When They Were Lifted Were Clear And Limpid As A

Baby's. Courtland Was Fairly Carried Off His Feet At Sight Of Her,  And

Felt His Heart Bound In Reassurance. This Must Be Love! He Had Fallen In

Love At Last! He Who Had Scorned The Idea So Long And Laughed At The

Other Fellows,  Until He Had Really Begun To Have Doubts In His Own Heart

Whether The Delightful Illusion Would Ever Come To Him! The Glamour Was

About Gila To-Night And No Mistake! He Looked At Her With His Heart In

His Eyes,  And She Drooped Her Lashes To Hide A Glint Of Triumph,  Knowing

She Had Chosen Her Setting Aright At Last. Softly,  Dreamily,  Pleasantly,

In The Back Of Her Mind Floated The Capitol Of The Nation,  And Herself

Standing Amid Admiring Throngs Receiving Homage. She Was Going To

Succeed. She Had Achieved Her First Triumph With The Look In Courtland's

Eyes. She Would Be Able To Carry Out Mr. Ramsey Thomas's Commission And

Win Courtland To Anything That Would Forward Ambitious Hopes For Him!

She Was Sure Of It!

 

The Very Important Business About Which She Had Wished To See Courtland

Was To Ask Him If He Would Be Her Partner In A Bazaar And Pageant That

Was Shortly To Be Given For Some Charitable Purpose By The Society Folks

With Whom She Companioned. She Wanted Courtland To March With Her,  And

To Consult Him About The Characters They Should Choose And The Costumes

Chapter 24 Pg 140

They Should Wear.

 

As If She Had Been A Child Desiring Him To Play With Her,  He Yielded To

Her Mood,  Watching Her All The Time With Delighted Eyes,  That Anything

So Exquisite And Lovely Should Stoop To Sue For His Favor. Of Course He

Would Be Her Partner! He Entered Into The Arrangements With A Zest,

Though He Let Her Do All The Planning,  And Heeded Little What Character

She Had Chosen For Him,  Or What Costume,  So She Was Pleased. Indeed,  His

Part In The Matter Seemed Of Little Moment So He Might Go With Her--His

Sweet,  Shy,  Lovely Maiden! For So She Seemed To Him That Night! A

Perfect Solveig!

 

The Reason For The Little Slippers Became Apparent Later,  When She

Insisted Upon Teaching Him The Dancing-Steps That Were To Be Used In A

Final Splendid Assembly After The Pageant. There Was Intoxication In The

Delight Of Moving With Her Through The Dreamy Steps To The Music Of The

Expensive Victrola She Set Going. Just To Watch Her Little Feet Like

Fairies For Lightness And Grace; To Touch Her Small,  Warm Hand; To Be So

Near Those Down-Drooping Lashes; To Feel Her Breath On His Hand; To

Think Of Her As Trusting Her Lovely Little Self To Him--Made Him Almost

Deliriously Happy. And She,  With Her Drooping Lashes,  Her Delicate Way

Of Barely Touching His Arm,  Her Utter Seeming Unconsciousness Of His

Presence,  Was So Exquisite And Pure And Lovely To-Night! She Did Not

Dream,  Of Course,  Of How She Made His Pulses Thrill And How He Was

Longing To Gather Her Into His Arms And Tell Her How Lovely She Was.

Afterward He Was Never Quite Sure What Kept Him From Doing It. He

Thought At The Time It Was Herself,  A Sort Of Wall Of Purity And

Loveliness That Surrounded Her And Made Her Sacred,  So That He Felt He

Must Go Slowly,  Must Not Startle Her Nor Make Her Afraid Of Him. It

Never Occurred To Him That The Wall Might Be Surrounding Himself. He Had

Entirely Forgotten That First Visit To Gila In The Mephistophelian

Garments,  With The Red Light Filling All The Unholy Atmosphere. There

Had Never Been So Much As A Hint Of A Red Light In The Room Since He

Said He Did Not Like It. The Lamp-Shade Seemed To Have Disappeared. In

Its Place Was A Great Wrought-Metal Thing Of Old Silver Jeweled With

Opalescent Medallions.

 

But It Was Part Of The Deliberate Intention Of Gila To Lead Him On And

Yet Hold Him At A Distance. She Had Read Him Aright. He Was A Man With

An Old-Fashioned Ideal Of Woman,  And The Citadel Of His Heart Was Only

To Be Taken By Such A Woman. Therefore,  She Would Be Such A Woman Until

She Had Won. After That? What Mattered It? Let Time Plan The Issue! She

Would Have Attained Her Desire!

 

But The Down-Drooping Lashes Hid No Unconscious Sweetness. There Was

Sinister Gleam In Those Eyes As She Looked At Herself Over His Shoulder

When They Passed The Great Mirror Set In A Cabinet Door. There Was

Deliberate Intention In The Way The Little Hand Lay Lightly In The

Strong One. There Was Not A Movement Of The Dreamy Dance She Was

Teaching Him,  Not A Touch Of The Little Satin Slipper,  That Did Not Have

Its Nicely Calculated Intention To Draw Him On. The Sooner She Could

Make Him Yield And Crush Her To Him,  The Sooner He Declared His Passion

For Her,  That Much Nearer Would Her Ambitions Be To Their Fulfilment.

Chapter 24 Pg 141

Yet She Must Be Very Sure That She Had Him Close In Her Toils Before She

Discovered To Him Her Purpose.

 

So The Little Blue Puritan-Like Spider Threw Her Silver Gossamer Web

About Him,  Tangling More And More His Big,  Fine Manly Heart,  And

Flinging Diamond Dust,  And Powder Made Of Charms And Incantations,  In

His Eyes To Blind Him. But As Yet She Knew Not Of The Presence That Was

Now His Constant Companion.

 

They Had Danced For Some Time,  Floating About In The Pure Delight Of The

Motion Together,  And The Nearness Of Each Another,  When It Seemed To

Courtland As If Of A Sudden A Cooling Hand Was Laid On His Feverish Brow

And A Calm Came To His Spirit Like A Beloved Voice Calling His Name With

The Accent That Is Sure Of Quick Response.

 

It Was So He Remembered What He Had Come To Tell Gila. Looking Down To

That Exquisite Bit Of Humanity Almost Within His Embrace,  A Great

Tenderness For Her,  And Longing,  Came Over Him,  To Make Her Know Now All

That The Presence Was Becoming To Him.

 

"Gila," He Whispered,  And His Voice Was Full Of Thrill. "Let's Sit Down

Awhile! There Is Something I Want To Tell You!"

 

Instantly She Responded,  Lifting Great Innocent Eyes,  With One Quick

Sweep,  To His Face,  So Moved And Tender; And Gliding Toward The Couch

Where They Might Sit Together,  Settling Down On It,  Almost Nestling To

Him,  Then Remembering And Drawing Away Shyly To More Perfectly Play Her

Part. She Thought She Knew What He Was Going To Say. She Thought She Saw

The Love-Light In His Eyes,  And It Was So Dazzling It Almost Blinded

Her. It Frightened Her A Little,  Too,  Like The Light In No Lover's Eyes

That Had Ever Drawn Her Down To Whisper Love To Her Before. She Wondered

If It Was Because She Really Cared Herself So Much Now That It Seemed So

Different.

 

But He Did Not Take Her In His Arms As She Had Expected He Would Do;

Though He Sat Quite Near,  And Spoke In A Low,  Privileged Tone,  As One

Would Do Who Had The Right. His Arm Was Across The Back Of The Couch

Behind Her; He Sat Sideways,  Turned Toward Her,  And He Still Touched

Reverently The Little Hand He Had Been Holding As They Danced Together.

 

"Gila,  I Have A Story To Tell You," He Said. "Until You Know It You Can

Never Understand Me Fully,  And I Want With All My Heart To Have You

Understand Me. It Is Something That Has Become A Part Of Me."

 

She Sat Quivering,  Wondering,  Half Fearful. A Gleam Of Jealousy Came

Into Her Averted Face. Was He Going To Tell Her About Another Girl? A

Fierce,  Unreasoning Anger Shot Across Her Face. She Would Not Tolerate

The Thought That Any One Had Had Him Before Her. Was It--? It Couldn't

Be That Baby-Faced Pauper In The Hospital? She Drew Her Slim Little Body

Up Tensely And W The Plastic Quality Of Inspired

Imagination. Though There Is Probably No Single Evil Which Exists For Which

Chapter 24 Pg 142

The Perversity Of The Subtle And Mysterious Thing Called Life Is Such That

Many Great And Grave Evils Continue To Challenge,  Perplex,  And Harass Our

Humankind.

 

Yet,  Notwithstanding The Plain Lesson Of History And Experience,  The

Reminder Impressed On Every Page Of Humanity's Record,  That Between The

Glow And The Glamour Of The Vision And Its Actual Realization Stretches A

Long,  Long Road,  There Are Many Simple-Minded Souls To Whom The Vision

Gleamed Is As The Goal Attained. They Do Not Distinguish Between Schemes On

Paper And Ideals Crystallized Into Living Realities. This Type Of Mind Is

Far More Common Than Is Generally Recognized; That Is Why So Many People

Quite Seriously Believe That The Bolsheviki Have Really Established In

Russia A Society Which Conforms To The Generous Ideals Of Social Democracy.

They Have Read The Rhetorical "Decrees" And "Proclamations" In Which The

Shibboleths Of Freedom And Democracy Abound,  And Are Satisfied. Yet It

Ought To Be Plainly Evident To Any Intelligent Person That,  Even If The

Decrees And Proclamations Were As Sound As They Are In Fact Unsound,  And As

Definite As They Are In Fact Vague,  They Would Afford No Real Basis For

Judging Bolshevism As An Actual Experiment In Social Polity. There Is,  In

Ultimate Analysis,  Only One Test To Apply To Bolshevism--Namely,  The Test

Of Reality. We Must Ask What The Bolsheviki Did,  Not What They Professed;

What Was The Performance,  Not What Was The Promise.

 

Of Course,  This Does Not Mean That We Are To Judge Result Wholly Without

Regard To Aim. Admirable Intention Is Still Admirable As Intention,  Even

When Untoward Circumstance Defeats It And Brings Deplorable Results.

Bolshevism Is Not Merely A Body Of Belief And Speculation. When The

Bolsheviki Seized The Government Of Russia And Began To Attempt To Carry

Out Their Ideas,  Bolshevism Became A Living Movement In A World Of Reality

And Subject To The Acid Test Of Pragmatic Criteria. It Must Be Judged By

Such A Matter-Of-Fact Standard As The Extent To Which It Has Enlarged Or

Diminished The Happiness,  Health,  Comfort,  Freedom,  Well-Being,

Satisfaction,  And Efficiency Of The Greatest Number Of Individuals. Unless

The Test Shows That It Has Increased The Sum Of Good Available For The

Mass,  Bolshevism Cannot Be Regarded As A Gain. If,  On The Contrary,  The

Test Shows That It Has Resulted In Sensibly Diminishing The Sum Of Good

Available To The Greatest Number Of People,  Bolshevism Must Be Counted As A

Move In The Wrong Direction,  As So Much Effort Lost. Nothing That Can Be

Urged On Philosophical Or Moral Grounds For Or Against The Moral Or

Intellectual Impulses That Prompted It Can Fundamentally Change The

Verdict. Yet,  For All That,  It Is Well To Examine The Theory Which Inspires

The Practice; Well To Know The Manner And Method Of Thinking,  And The View

Of Life,  From Which Bolshevism As A Movement Of Masses Of Men And Women

Proceeds.

Chapter 24 Pg 143

Philosophy Or The Program Of Socialism. Certain Persons Have Established A

Working Relation Between Socialism,  A Program,  And Bolshevism,  A Method.

The Connection Is Not Inherently Logical,  But,  On The Contrary,  Wholly

Adventitious. As A Matter Of Fact,  Bolshevism Can Only Be Linked To The

Program Of Socialism By Violently And Disastrously Weakening The Latter And

Destroying Its Fundamental Character. We Shall Do Well To Remember This; To

Remember That The Method Of Action,  And,  Back Of The Method,  The Philosophy

On Which It Rests And From Which It Springs,  Are Separate And Distinct From

Socialism. They Are Incalculably Older And They Have Been Associated With

Vastly Different Programs. All That Is New In Bolshevism Is That A Very Old

Method Of Action,  And A Very Old Philosophy Of Action,  Have Been Seized

Upon By A New Class Which Attempts To Unite The Program.

 

That Is All That Is Implied In The "Dictatorship Of The Proletariat."

Dictatorship By Small Minorities Is Not A New Political Phenomenon. All

That Is New When The Minority Attempting To Establish Its Dictatorship Is

Composed Of Poor,  Propertyless People,  Is The Fact Of Their Economic

Condition And Status. That Is The Only Difference Between The Dictatorship

Of Russia By The Romanov Dynasty And The Dictatorship Of Russia By A Small

Minority Of Determined,  Class-Conscious Working-People. It Is Not Only The

Precise Forms Of Oppressive Power Used By Them That Are Identically

Characteristic Of Czarism And Bolshevism,  But Their Underlying Philosophy.

Both Forms Of Dictatorship Rest Upon The Philosophy Of Might As The Only

Valid Right. Militarism,  Especially As It Was Developed Under Prussian

Leadership,  Has Exactly The Same Philosophy And Aims At The Same General

Result,  Namely,  To Establish The Domination And Control Of Society By A

Minority Class. The Bolsheviki Have Simply Inverted Czarism And Militarism.

 

What Really Shocks The Majority Of People Is Not,  After All,  The Methods Or

The Philosophy Of Bolshevism,  But The Fact That The Bolsheviki,  Belonging

To A Subject Class,  Have Seized Upon The Methods And Philosophy Of The Most

Powerful Ruling Classes And Turned Them To Their Own Account. There Is A

Class Morality And A Class Psychology The Subtle Influences Of Which Few

Perceive As A Matter Of Habit,  Which,  However,  To A Great Extent Shape Our

Judgments,  Our Sympathies,  And Our Antipathies. Men Who Never Were Shocked

When A Czar,  Speaking The Language Of Piety And Religion,  Indulged In 

Chapter 24 Pg 144

Most Infamous Methods And Deeds Of Terror And Oppression,  Are Shocked

Beyond All Power Of Adequate Expression When Former Subjects Of That Same

Czar,  Speaking The Language Of The Religion Of Democracy And Freedom,

Resort To The Same Infamous Methods Of Terror And Oppression.

 

 

 

 

Ii

 

The Idea That A Revolting Proletarian Minority Might By Force Impose Its

Rule Upon Society Runs Through The History Of The Modern Working Class,  A

Note Of Impatient,  Desperate,  Menacing Despair. The Bolsheviki Say That

They Are Marxian Socialists; That Marx Believed In And Advocated The

Setting Up,  During The Transitory Period Of Social Revolution,  Of The

"Dictatorship Of The Proletariat." They Are Not Quite Honest In This Claim,

However; They Are Indulging In Verbal Tricks. It Is True That Marx Taught

That The Proletarian Dominion Of Society,  As A Preliminary To The Abolition

Of All Class Rule Of Every Kind,  Must Be Regarded As Certain And

Inevitable. But It Is Not Honest To Claim The Sanction Of His Teaching For

The Seizure Of Political Power By A Small Class,  Consisting Of About 6 Per

Cent. Of The Population,  And The Imposition By Force Of Its Rule Upon The

Majority Of The Population That Is Either Unwilling Or Passive. That Is The

Negation Of Marxian Socialism. _It Is The Essence Of Marx's Teaching That

The Social Revolution Must Come As A Historical Necessity When The

Proletariat Itself Comprises An Overwhelming Majority Of The People_.

 

Let Us Summarize The Theory As It Appears In The _Communist Manifesto_:

Marx Begins By Setting Forth The Fact That Class Conflict Is As Old As

Civilization Itself,  That History Is Very Largely The Record Of Conflicts

Between Contending Social Classes. In Our Epoch,  He Argues,  Class Conflict

Is Greatly Simplified; There Is Really Only One Division,  That Which

Divides The Bourgeoisie And The Proletariat: "Society As A Whole Is More

And More Splitting Up Into Great Hostile Camps,  Into Two Great Classes

Directly Facing Each Other,  Bourgeoisie And Proletariat." ... "With The

Development Of Industry The Proletariat Not Only Increases In Numbers; It

Becomes Concentrated In Great Masses,  Its Strength Grows,  And It Feels That

Strength More." ... "The Proletarian Movement Is The _Self-Conscious,

Independent Movement Of The Immense Majority In The Interests Of The

Immense Majority_." It Is This "Immense Majority" That Is To Establish Its

Dominion. Marx Expe-Workers! Work Energetically And Unite Your Efforts,  And

    In This Way Help Us In Our Last Fight For Universal Peace For

    Nations! By Strengthening The Front You Will Strengthen Freedom!

 

    3. Fellow-Citizens Of The Capitalist Class! Follow The Historic

    Example Of Minin! Even As He,  Open Your Treasuries And Quickly

    Bring Your Money To The Aid Of Russia!

Chapter 24 Pg 145

    4. To The Peasants: Fathers And Brothers! Bring Your Last Mite To

    Help The Weakening Front! Give Us Bread,  And Oats And Hay To Our

    Horses. Remember That The Future Russia Will Be Yours!

 

    5. Comrades-Intellectuals! Come To Us And Bring The Light Of

    Knowledge Into Our Dark Trenches! Share With Us The Difficult Work

    Of Advancing Russia's Freedom And Prepare Us For The Citizenship

    Of New Russia!

 

    6. To The Russian Women: Support Your Husbands And Sons In The

    Performing Of Their Civil Duty To The Country! Replace Them Where

    This Is Not Beyond Your Strength! Let Your Scorn Drive Away All

    Those Who Are Slackers In These Difficult Times!

 

No One Can Read This Declaration Without A Deep Sense Of The Lofty And

Sincere Citizenship Of The Brave Men Who Adopted It As Their Expression.

The Fundamental Loyalty Of These Leaders Of The Common Soldiers,  Their

Spokesmen And Delegates,  Is Beyond Question. Pardonably Weary Of A War In

Which They Had Been More Shamefully Betrayed And Neglected Than Any Other

Army In Modern Times,  Frankly Suspicious Of Capitalist Governments Which

Had Made Covenants With The Hated Romanov Dynasty,  They Were Still Far From

Being Ready To Follow The Leadership Of Bolsheviki. They Had,  Instead,

Adopted The Sanely Constructive Policy Of Tchcheidze,  Tseretelli,  Skobelev,

Plechanov,  And Other Socialists Who From The First Had Seen The Great

Struggle In Its True Perspective. That They Did Not Succeed In Averting

Disaster Is Due In Part To The Fact That The Revolution Itself Had Come Too

Late To Make Military Success Possible,  And In Part To The Failure Of The

Governments Allied With Russia To Render Intelligent Aid.

 

 

 

 

Vii

 

The Provisional Government Was Reorganized. Before We Consider The Actions

Of The All-Russian Congress Of Peasants' Delegates,  One Of The Most

Important Gatherings Of Representatives Of Russian Workers Ever Held,  The

Reorganization Of The Provisional Government Merits Attention. On The 17th,

At A Special Sitting Of The Duma,  Guchkov And Miliukov Explained Why They

Had Resigned. Guchkov Made It A Matter Of Conscience. Anarchy Had Entered

Into The Administration Of The Army And Navy,  He Said: "In The Way Of

Reforms The New Government Has Gone Very Far. Not Even In The Most

Democratic Countries Have The Principles Of Self-Government,  Freedom,  And

Equality Been So Extensively Applied In Military Life. We Have Gone

Somewhat Farther Than The Danger Limit,  And The Impetuous Current Drives Us

Farther Still.... I Could Not Consent To This Dangerous Work; I Could Not

Chapter 24 Pg 146

Deterioration Of Our Military Forces. A Country,  And Especially An Army,

Cannot Be Administered On The Principles Of Meetings And Conferences."

 

Miliukov Told His Colleagues Of The Duma That He Had Not Resigned Of His

Own Free Will,  But Under Pressure: "I Had To Resign,  Yielding Not To Force,

But To The Wish Of A Considerable Majority Of My Colleagues. With A Clear

Conscience I Can Say That I Did Not Leave On My Own Account,  But Was

Compelled To Leave." Nevertheless,  He Said,  The Foreign Policy He Had

Pursued Was The Correct One. "You Could See For Yourselves That My Activity

In Foreign Politics Was In Accord With Your Ideas," He Declared Amid

Applause Which Eloquently Testified To The Approval With Which The

Bourgeoisie Regarded Policies And Tendencies Which The Proletariat

Condemned. He Pointed Out That The Pacifist Policies Of Zimmerwald And

Keinthal Had Permeated A Large Part Of The Socialist Movement,  And That The

Soviet,  The Councils Of Workmen's And Soldiers' Delegates,  Claiming Tong At It Now,  With The Possible Hypothesis That It Was

The Word Of God,  All Was Changed.

 

He Remembered Once Seeing A Tray Of Gems In An Exhibit,  And Among Them

One That Looked Like A Common Pebble. The Man Who Had Charge Of The

Exhibit Took The Little Pebble And Held It In The Palm Of His Hand For A

Moment,  When It Suddenly Began To Glow And Sparkle With All The Colors

Of The Rainbow And Rival All The Other Gems. The Man Explained That Only

The Warmth Of The Human Hand Could Cause This Marvelous Change. You

Might Lay The Stone Under The Direct Rays Of A Summer Sun,  Yet It Would

Have No Effect Until You Took It In Your Hand,  When It Would Give Forth

Its Beauty Once More.

 

It Was Like This When He Began To Read The Bible With The Idea That It

Was The Word Of God. Things Flashed Out At Him That Fairly Dazzled His

Thoughts; Living,  Palpitating Things,  As If They Were Hidden Of A

Purpose To Be Discovered Only By Him Who Cared To Search. Hidden Truths

Came To Light That Filled His Soul With Wonder. Gradually He Understood

That Belief Was The Touchstone By Which All These Treasures Were To Be

Revealed. Everywhere He Found It,  That Belief In Christ Was A Condition

To All The Blessings Promised. He Read Of Hearts Hardened And Eyes

Blinded Because Of Unbelief,  And Came To See That Unbelief Was Something

A Man Was Responsible For,  Not A Condition Which Settled Down Upon Him,

And He Could Not Help. Belief Was A Deliberate Act Of The Will. It Was

Not A Theory,  Nor An Intellectual Affirmation; It Was A Position Taken,

Which Necessarily Must Pass Into Action Of Some Kind. He Began To See

That Without This Deliberate Belief It Was Impossible For Man To Know

The Things Which Are Purely Spiritual. It Was The Condition Necessary

For Revelation. He Was Fascinated With The Pursuit Of This New Study.

 

Wittemore Came To His Room One Evening,  His Face Grayer,  More Strained

And Horse-Like Than Ever. Wittemore's Mother Had Made Another Partial

Recovery And Insisted On His Return To College. He Was Plodding

Patiently,  Breathlessly Along In His Classes,  Trying To Catch Up Again.

He Had Paid Courtland Back Part Of The Money He Borrowed,  And Was

Gradually Paying The Rest In Small Instalments. Courtland Hated To Take

Chapter 24 Pg 147

It,  But Saw That It Would Hurt Him To Refuse It; So He Had Fallen Into A

Habit Of Stopping Now And Then To Talk About His Settlement Work,  Just

To Show A Little Friendly Interest In Him. Wittemore Had Responded With

A Quiet Wistfulness And A Patient Hovering In The Background That

Touched The Other Man's Heart Deeply.

 

"I've Just Come From My Rounds," Said Wittemore,  Sitting Down,

Apologetically,  On The Edge Of A Chair. "That Old Lady You Carried The

Medicine To--She's Been Telling Me How You Made Tea And Toast!" He

Paused And Looked Embarrassed.

 

"Yes," Smiled Courtland. "How's She Getting On? Any Better?"

 

"No," Said Wittemore,  The Hopeless Gray Look Settling About His

Sensitive Mouth. "She'll Never Be Any Better. She's Dying!"

 

"Well," Said Courtland,  "That'll Be A Pleasant Change For Her,  I Guess."

 

Wittemore Winced. Death Had No Pleasant Associations For Him. "She Told

Me You Prayed For Her! She Wants You To Do It Again!"

 

It Was Plain He Thought The Praying Had Been A Sort Of Joke With

Courtland.

 

Courtland Looked Up,  The Color Rising Slowly In His Face. He Saw The

Accusation In Wittemore's Sad Eyes.

 

"Of Course I Know What You Think Of Such Things. I've Heard You In The

Class. I Don't Believe In Them Any More Myself,  Either,  Now."

Wittemore's Voice Had A Trail Of Hopelessness In It. "But Somehow I

Couldn't Quite Bring Myself To Make A Mockery Of Prayer,  Even To Please

That Old Woman. You See _My Mother Still Believes In Prayer_!" He Spoke

Apologetically,  As Of A Dear One Who Had Lacked Advantages.

 

"But _I Do_ Believe In Prayer!" Said Courtland,  Earnestly. "What You

Heard Me Say In Class Was Before I Understood."

 

"Before You Understood?" Wittemore Looked Puzzled.

 

"Listen,  Wittemore. Things Are All Different Now. I've Met Jesus Christ

And I've Got My Eyes Open. I Was Blind Before,  But Since I've Felt The

Presence Everything Has Been Different."

 

And Then He Told The Story Of His Experience. He Did Not Make A Long

Story Of It. He Gave Brief Facts,  And When It Was Finished Wittemore

Dropped His Face Into His Hands And Groaned:

 

"I'd Give Anything If I Could Believe All That Again," Came From Between

His Long Bony Fingers. "It's Breaking My Mother's Heart To Have Me Leave

The Faith!"

 

The Slick Hay-Like Hair Fell In Wisps Over His Hands,  His High,  Bony

Shoulders Were Hunched Despairingly Over Courtland's Study Table. He Was

A Great,  Pitiful Object.

Chapter 24 Pg 148

Closet For His Overcoat. "It's Up To You,  You Know. You _Can_! God Can't

Do It For You,  And Of Course There's Nothing Doing Till You've Taken

That Step. I Found That Out!"

 

"But How Do You Reconcile Things,  Calamities,  Disasters,  War,  Suffering,

That Poor Old Woman Lying On Her Attic Bed Alone? How Do You Reconcile

That With The Goodness Of God?"

 

"I Don't Reconcile It. It Isn't My Business. I Leave That To God. If I

Understood All The Whys And Wherefores Of How This Universe Is Run I'd

Be Great Enough To Be A God Myself."

 

"But If God Is Omniscient I Can't See How He Can Let Some Things Go On!

He Must Be Limited In Power Or He'd Never Let Some Things Happen If He's

A Good God!" Wittemore's Voice Had A Plaintive Sound.

 

"Well,  How Do You Know That? In The First Place,  How Can You Be Sure

What Is A Calamity? And Say,  Did It Ever Strike You That Some Of The

Things We Blame On God Are Really Up To Us? He's Handed Over His Power

For Us To Do Things,  And We Haven't Seen It That Way; So The Things Go

Undone And God Is Charged With The Consequences."

 

"I Wish I Could Believe That!" Said Wittemore.

 

"You Can! When You Really Want To,  Enough,  You Will! Come On,  Let's Get

That Prayer Down To The Old Lady! I'm Sort Of An Amateur Yet,  But I'll

Do My Best."

 

They Went Out Into The Mist And Murk Of A Spring Thaw. Wittemore Never

Forgot That Night's Experience--The Prayer,  And The Walk Home Again

Through The Fog. The Old Woman Died At Dawning.

 

Courtland Spent Much Time Thinking About Gila These Days. His Whole Soul

Was Wrapped Up In The Desire That She Might Understand. He Was Longing

For Her; Idealizing Her; Thinking Of Her In Her Innocent Beauty,  Her

Charming Ways; Wondering How She Would Meet Him The Next Time,  What He

Should Say To Her; Living Upon Her Brief,  Alluring Notes That Came To

Him From Time To Time Like Fitful Rose Petals Blown From A Garden Where

He Longed To Be; But Yet In A Way It Was A Relief To Have Her Gone Until

He Could Settle The Great Perplexity That Was In His Mind Concerning

Her.

 

Gila Prolonged Her Absence By A Trip South With Her Father,  And So It

Was Several Weeks Before Courtland Saw Her Again.

 

There Seemed To Be A Settled Sadness Over His Soul When He Prayed About

Her,  And When At Last She Returned And Summoned Him To Her He Was No

Nearer A Solution Of His Difficulty Than When He Had Last Left Her.

 

The Hour Before He Went To Her He Spent In Stephen's Room,  Turning Over

The Leaves Of Stephen's Bible. When He Rose At Last To Go He Turned

Chapter 24 Pg 149

Again To This Verse Which Had Caught His Eye Among The Marked Verses

That Were Always So Interesting To Him Because They Seemed To Have Been

Landmarks In Stephen's Life:

 

     My Presence Shall Go With Thee,  And I Will Give Thee Rest.

 

It Almost Startled Him,  So Well Did It Seem To Suit His Need. He Read On

A Few Verses:

 

     And He Said Unto Him,  If Thy Presence Go Not With Me,  Carry

     Us Not Up Hence. For Wherein Shall It Be Known That I And My

     People Have Found Grace In Thy Sight? Is It Not In That Thou

     Goest With Us? So Shall We Be Separated,  I And My People,

     From All The People That Are Upon The Face Of The Earth.

 

Wonderful Words Those,  Implying A Close Relationship That Shut Out To A

Certain Extent All Others Who Were Not One With That Presence. He Wished

He Knew What It All Meant! And In That Moment Was Born Within Him A

Desire To Understand The Bible And Know How Believing Scholars Explained

Everything.

 

But As He Went From The Room And On His Way,  He Felt That To Some Extent

He Had A Solution Of His Trouble. He Was To Be Under The Personal

Conduct Of The Presence Of God Wherever He Went,  Whatever He Did! This

Was To Make Life Less Complex,  And In Some Mysterious Way The Power Of

The Christ With Him Was To Be Made Manifest To Others. Surely He Might

Trust This In The Case Of Gila,  And Feel Sure That He Would Be Guided

Aright; That She Would Come To See For Herself How There Was With Him

Always This Guiding Power. Surely She Would Come To Know It And Love It

Also.

 

Gila Met Him With Fluttering Delight,  Poutingly Reproaching Him For Not

Writing Oftener,  Calling Him To Order For Looking Solemn,  Adoringly

Pretty Herself In A Little Frilly Pink Frock That Gave Her The Look Of

A Pale Anemone,  Wind-Blown And Sweet And Wild.

 

She Talked A Good Deal About The "Dandy Times" She Had Had And The

"Perfectly Peachy" Men And Girls She Had Met; Flattered Him By Saying

She Had Seen None Handsomer Or More Distinguished Than He Was. She

Accepted As A Matter Of Course The Lover-Like Attitude He Adopted,  Let

Him Tell Her Of His Love As Long As He Was Not Too Solemn About It,

Teased And Played With Him,  Charmed Him With Every Art She Knew,  Dancing

From One Mood To Another Like A Sprite,  Winding Her Gossamer Chains

About Him More And More,  Until,  When He Went From Her Again,  He Was

Fairly Intoxicated With Her Beauty.

 

He Had Lulled His Anxiety With The Thought That He Must Wait And Be

Patient Until Gila Saw. But More And More Was It Growing Hard To

Approach Her About The Things That Were Of Most Moment To Him. Sometimes

When He Was Wearily Trying To Find A Way Back From The Froth Of Her

Conversation To The Real Things He Hoped She Would Enjoy With Him Some

Day,  She Would Call Him An Old Crab,  And Summon To Her Side Other

Willing Youths To Stimulate His Jealousy; Youths Of Sometimes Unsavory

Reputation Whose Presence Gave Him Deep Anxiety For Her. Then He Would

Chapter 24 Pg 150

Tell Himself He Must Be More Patient,  That She Was Young And Must Learn

To Understand Little By Little.

 

Gila Developed A Great Interest In Courtland's Future,  His Plans For A

Career,  Of Which She Chattered To Him Much And Often,  Suggesting Ways In

Which Her Father Might Perhaps Help Him Into A Position Of Prominence

And Power In The Political World. But Courtland,  With A Shadow Of

Trouble In His Eyes,  Always Put Her Off. He Admitted That He Had Thought

Of Politics,  But Was Not Ready Yet To Say What He Would Do.

 

So Spring Came On,  With Its Final Examinations,  And Commencement Drawing

Nearer Every Day.

 

Through It All Courtland Found Much Time To Be With Gila; Often In

Company,  Or Flashing Through A Crowded Thoroughfare By Her Side;

Following Her Fancy; Excusing Her Follies; Laying Her Mistakes And

Indiscretions To Her Youth And Innocence; Always Trying To Lead Up To

His Great Desire,  That She Might See His Christ.

 

Tennelly Watched The Whole Performance Anxiously. He Wanted Courtland To

Be Drawn Out Of What He Considered His "Morbid" State,  But Not At The

Price Of His Peace Of Mind. He Was Very Sure That Courtland Ought Not To

Marry Gila. He Was Equally Sure That She Meant Nothing Serious In Her

Present Relation To Courtland. He Felt Himself Responsible In A Way

Because He Had Agreed In The Plot With His Uncle To Start Her On This

Campaign. But If Courtland Should Come Out Of It With A Broken Heart,

What Then?

 

It Was Just A Week Before Commencement That The Crisis Came.

 

Gila Had Summoned Courtland To Her.

 

Gila,  In Her Most Imperial Mood,  Wearing A Bewildering Imported Frock

Whose Simple Intricacies And Daring Contrasts Were Well Calculated To

Upbear A Determined Spirit In A Supreme Combat,  Awaited His Coming

Impatiently. She Knew That He Had That Day Received Another Offer From

Ramsey Thomas,  Tempting In The Extreme,  And Baited With Alluring

Possibilities That Certainly Were Dazzling To Her If They Were Not To

Her Lover. She Meant To Make Him Tell Her Of The Offer,  And She Meant To

Make Him Accept It That Very Afternoon And Clinch The Contract By

Telephoning The Acceptance To The Telegraph-Office Before He Left Her

Home.

 

Courtland Was Tired. He Had Been Through A Hard Week Of Examinations,

He Had Been On Several Committees,  And Had A Number Of Important Class

Meetings,  And The Like. There Had Been Functions Galore To Attend,  And

Late Hours That Were Unavoidable. He Had Come To Her Hoping For A Rest

And The Joy Of Her Society. Just To Watch Her Dainty Grace As She Moved

About A Room,  Handling The Tea Things And Giving Him A Delicate Sandwich

Or A Crisp Cake,  Filled Him With Joy And Soothed His Troubled Spirit; It

Was So Like His Ideal Of What A Woman Should Be.

 

But Gila Was Not Handing Out Tea That Afternoon. She Had Other Fish To

Fry,  And She Went At Her Business With A Determination That Very Soon

Chapter 24 Pg 151

Showed Him There Was No Rest To Be Had There.

 

Very Prettily,  But Quite Efficiently,  She Bored Him For Information

About His Plans. Had He No Plans Whatever About What He Was Going To Do

As Soon As He Had Finished College? Of Course She Knew He Had Money Of

His Own (He Had Never Told Her How Much,  And There Hadn't Really Been

Any Way Of Asking A Man Like Courtland When He Didn't Choose To Tell A

Thing Like That),  But Nowadays That Was Nothing. Even Rich Men All Did

_Something_. One Wasn't Anything Unless One Was In Something Big! Hadn't

He Ever Had Any Offers At All? It Was Queer,  Such A Brilliant Man As He

Was. She Knew Lots Of Young Fellows Who Had No End Of Chances To Get

Into Big Things As Soon As They Were Done With Their Education. Didn't

His Father Know Of Something,  Or Have Something In Mind For Him? Hadn't

He Ever Been Approached?

 

Goaded At Last By Her Delicate But Determined Insinuations,  Courtland

Told Her. Yes,  He Had Had Offers; One In Particular That Was A Fine

Thing From A Worldly Point Of View,  But He Didn't Intend To Take It. It

Did Not Fit With His Ideal Of Life. There Were Things About It That

Were Not Square. He Wasn't Quite Sure How His His Own Plans Were Going

To Work Out Yet. He Must Have A Talk With His Father First. Possibly He

Would Study Awhile Longer Somewhere.

 

Gila Frowned. She Had No Idea Of Letting Him Do That. She Wanted Him To

Get Into Something Big Right Away,  So That She Might Begin Her Career.

So That Was What Had Been Standing In His Way! Study! How Stupid! No,

Indeed! She Wanted No Scholar For A Husband,  Who Would Bore Her With

Horrid Old Dull Books And Lectures And Never Want To Go Anywhere With

Her! She Must Switch Him Away From This Idea At Once! She Returned To

The Rejected Business Proposition With Zeal And Avidity. What Was It?

What Did It Involve? What Were Its Future Possibilities? Great! What On

Earth Could He Find In That To Object To? How Ridiculous! How Long Ago

Had That Been Offered To Him? Was It Too Late To Accept? What? He Had

Had The Offer Repeated Even More Flatteringly That Very Day? Where Was

The Letter? Would He Let Her See It?

 

She Bent Over Uncle Ramsey's Brusque Sentences With A Hidden Smile Of

Triumph And Pretended To Be Surprised.

 

"How Perfectly Wonderful! All That Responsibility And All Those Chances

To Get To The Top! Even A Hint Of Washington!"

 

She Dimpled And Opened Her Great Eyes Imploringly At Him. She Pictured

Herself In Glowing Terms Going With Him And Holding Court Among The

Great Of The Land! She Wheedled And Coaxed And All But Commanded,  While

He Sat And Watched Her Sadly,  Realizing How Well Fitted She Was For The

Things She Was Describing And How She Loved Them All!

 

     So Shall We Be Separated,  I And My People,  From All The

     People That Are Upon The Face Of The Earth!

 

He Started Upright! It Was As If A Voice Had Spoken The Words,  Those

Strange Words From The Bible! Was This Then What They Meant? Separation!

Chapter 24 Pg 152

Must Explain It All To Her. He Must Let Her Know That He Had Chosen A

Way Of Separation That Forbade The Paths Wherein She Was Longing To

Wander. Would She Shrink And Wish To Turn Back? Nevertheless,  He Must

Make It Plain To Her.

 

Gently,  Quietly,  He Tried To Make Her Understand. He Told Her Of The

Visit Of Ramsey Thomas And His Own Decision In The Winter. He Told Her

Of The Factory That Was Built To Blind The Eyes Of Those Who Were Trying

To Uplift And Help Men. He Tried To Make Conditions Plain Where Girls As

Young As She,  And With Just Such Hopes And Fears And Ambitions,  Perhaps

In Some Cases Just As Much Sweetness And Native Beauty As She Had,  Were

Obliged To Spend Long Hours Of Toil Amid Surroundings That Must Crush

The Life Out Of Any Pure Soul,  And Turn All The Sweetness To Bitterness,

The Beauty To A Peril! He Hinted At Things She Did Not Know Nor Dream

Of; Dreadful Things From Which Her Life Had Always Been Safely Guarded;

And How He Could Not,  For The Sake Of Those Crushed Souls,  Accept A

Position That Would Close His Mouth And Tie His Hands Forever From Doing

Anything About It. He Told Her He Could Not Accept Honor That Was

Founded Upon Dishonor; That He Had Taken Christ For His Pattern And

Guide; That He Could Do Nothing That Would Drive God's Presence From

Him.

 

She Had Been Sitting With Her Face Averted,  Her Clasped Hands Dropped

Straight Down At The Side Of Her Lap,  The Fingers Interlaced And Tense

In Excitement; Her Bosom Heaving With Agitation Under The Paris Gown;

But When He Reached This Point In His Argument She Sprang To Her Feet

And Away From Him,  Standing With Her Shoulders Drawn Back,  Her Head

Thrown Up,  Her Chin Out,  Her Whole Lithe Body Stiff And Imperious.

 

"It Is Time This Stopped!" She Said,  And Her Voice Was Cold Like A

Frozen Dagger And Went Straight Through His Heart. "It Is Time You Put

Away Forever This Ridiculous Idea Of A Presence,  And Of Setting Yourself

Up To Be Better Than Any One Else! This Isn't Religion,  It Is

Fanaticism! And It Has Got To Stop Now And _Forever_,  Or I Will Have

Nothing Whatever To Do With You. Either You Give Up This Idea Of A Ghost

Following You Around All The Time And Accept Mr. Ramsey Thomas's Offer

This Afternoon,  Or You And I Part! You Can Choose,  _Now_,  Between Me And

Your Presence!"

 

 

Chapter 25 Pg 153

Gila Had Never Been More Beautiful Than When She Stood And Uttered Her

Terrible Ultimatum To Courtland. Her Little Imperial Head Sat On Her

Lovely Shoulders Royally,  Her Attitude Was Perfect Grace. Her Spirited

Face With Its Dark Eyes And Lashes,  Its Setting Of Blue-Black Hair,  Was

Fascinating In Its Exquisite Modeling. She Looked Like A Proud Young

Cameo Standing For Her Portrait. But Her Words Shot Through Courtland's

Heart Like Icy Swords Dividing His Soul From His Body.

 

He Rose To His Feet,  Gone Suddenly White And Stern,  And Stood Looking At

Her As If His Own Heart Had Turned Traitor And Slain Him. A Moment They

Stood In Battle Array,  Two Forces Representing The Two Great Powers Of

The Universe. Looking Straight Into Each Other's Souls They Stood,

Plumbing The Depths,  Seeing As In A Revelation What Each Really Was!

 

To Courtland It Was Suddenly Made Plain That This Girl Had No Part Or

Lot In The Things That Had Become Vital To Him. She Had Not Seen,  She

_Would_ Not See! Her Love Was Not Great Enough To Carry Her Over The

Bridge That Separated Them,  And Back Over Which He Might Not Go After

Her!

 

Gila In Her Fierce Haughtiness Looked Into Her Lover's Eyes And Saw,  As

She Had Never Seen Before,  The Mighty Strength Of His Character! Saw

That Here Was A Man Such As She Would Not Likely Meet Again Upon Her

Way,  And She Was About To Lose Him Forever. Saw That He Would Never

Give In About A Matter Of Principle,  And That His Love Was Worth All The

More To Any Woman Because He Would Not; Knew Which Way He Would Choose,

From The First Word Of Her Challenge; Yet The Little Fury Within Her

Would Not Let Her Withdraw. She Stood With Haughty Mien And Cold,

Flashing Eyes,  Watching Him Suffer The Blow She Had Dealt Him; Knew That

It Was More Than His Love For Her She Was Killing With That Blow,  Yet

Did Not Withdraw It While She Might.

 

"Gila! Do You Mean That?"

 

She Looked Him Straight In The Eye And Thrust Her Sword In The Deeper

With A Steady Hand. "I Do!"

 

He Stood For A Moment Looking Steadily At Her With That Cold,  Observant

Glance,  As If He Would Have This Last Picture Of Her This Way To Cut

Away All Tender Memories That Might Cause Pain In The Future. Then He

Turned As If To One Who Stood By His Side. Not Looking Back Again,  He

Said,  Clearly And Distinctly:

 

"I Choose!"

 

And With Erect Bearing He Passed Out Of The Door.

 

Gila Stood,  White And Furious,  Her Little Clenched Fists Down At Her

Sides,  The Sharp Little Teeth Biting Into The Red Underlip Until The

Blood Came. She Heard The Front Door Shut In The Distance,  And Her Soul

Cried Out Within Her,  Yet She Stood Still And Held Her Ground. She

Turned Her Face Toward The Library Window. Between The Curtains She

Could Presently See His Tall Form Walking Down The Street. He Was Not

Drooping,  Nor Disheartened. He Held His Head Up And Walked As If In

Chapter 25 Pg 154

Company With One Whom He Was Proud To Own. There Was Nothing Dejected

About The Determined Young Back. Fine,  Noble,  Handsome As A Man Could

Be! She Saw That One Glimpse Of His Figure For A Moment,  Then He Passed

Beyond Her Sight And She Knew In Her Heart He Would Come To Her No

More! She Had Sent Him From Her Forever!

 

She Dashed Up To Her Room In A Fury And Locked Herself In. She Wept And

Stormed And Denied Herself To Every One; She Watched And Waited For The

Telephone To Ring,  Yet She Knew He Would Not Call Her Up!

 

Courtland Never Knew Where He Was Walking As He Went Forth That Day To

Meet His Sorrow And Face It Like A Man. He Passed Some Of His

Professors,  But Did Not See Them. Pat Mccluny Came Up And He Looked Him

In The Eye With An Unseeing Stare,  And Walked On!

 

Pat Stood Still And Looked After Him,  Puzzled!

 

"Holy Mackinaw! What's Eating The Poor Stew Now!" He Ejaculated. He

Stood A Moment Looking Back After Courtland As He Walked Straight Ahead,

Passing Several More University Fellows Without So Much As A Nod Of

Recognition. Then He Turned And Slowly Followed,  On Through The City

Streets,  Out Into The Quieter Suburbs,  Out Farther Into The Real

Country,  Mile After Mile; Out A By-Path Where Grass Grew Thick And Wild

Flowers Straggled Under Foot,  Where Presently A Stream Wound Soft And

Deep Between Steep Banks,  And Rocks Loomed High On Either Hand; Under A

Railroad Bridge,  And Up Among The Rocks,  Climbing And Puffing Till At

Last They Stood Upon A Great Rock,  Mccluny Just A Little Way Behind And

Out Of Sight.

 

It Was There In A Sort Of Crevice,  Where The Natural Fall Of The

Crumbling Rocks Had Formed A Shelter,  That Courtland Dropped Upon His

Knees. Not As A Spot He Had Been Seeking For,  But As A Haven To Which He

Had Been Led. He Knelt,  And All That Pat,  Standing,  Awed And Uncovered,

A Few Feet Below,  Heard,  Was:

 

"O God! O _God_!"

 

He Knelt There A Long Time,  While Pat Waited Below,  Trying To Think

What To Do. The Sun Was Beginning To Sink,  And A Soft,  Pink Summer Light

Was Glinting Over The Brown Rocks And Bits Of Moss And Grasses. The

Young Leaves Waved Lightly Overhead Like Children Dancing In The

Morning,  And Something Of The Sweetness And Beauty Of The Scene Crept

Into Pat Mccluny's Soul As He Stood And Waited Before This Gethsemane

Gate For A Man He Loved To Come Forth.

 

At Last He Stepped Up The Rocks Quietly And Came And Stood By Courtland,

Laying A Gentle Hand Upon His Shoulder. "Come On,  Old Man,  It's Getting

Late. About Time We Were Going Back!"

 

Courtland Got Up And Looked At Him In A Dazed Way,  As If His Soul Had

Been Bruised And He Was Only Just Recovering Consciousness. Without A

Word He Turned And Followed Pat Back Again To The City. They Did Not

Talk On The Way Back. Pat Whistled A Little,  That Was All.

 

Chapter 25 Pg 155

When They Reached The Gates Of The University Courtland Turned And Put

Out His Hand,  Speaking In His Own Natural Tone: "Thanks Awfully,  Old

Chap! Sorry To Have Made You All This Trouble!"

 

"That's All Righfe,  Her Great Desire Was To Spread Happiness And To Obtain

It,  To Love And To Be Loved In Return. In Politics It Was Always The

Sentiment Of Justice Which Appealed To Her,  In Literature It Was The

Ideal. Sincerity Was Manifested In Everything She Said And Did. Pity

For The Misery Of Her Fellow Beings,  The Sentiment Of The Dignity Of

Man And His Right To Independence,  Of His Future Grandeur Founded

On His Moral Elevation,  The Cult Of Justice,  And The Love Of

Liberty--Such Were The Prevailing Thoughts Of Her Life And Works.

 

Mme. De Staël's Chief Influence Will Always Remain In The Domain Of

Literature; She Was The First French Writer To Introduce And Exercise

A European Or Cosmopolitan Influence By Uniting The Literatures Of The

North And The South And Clearly Defining The Distinction Between Them.

By The Expression Of Her Idea That French Literature Had Decayed On

Account Of The Exclusive Social Spirit,  And That Its Only Means Of

Regeneration Lay In The Study And Absorption Of New Models,  She

Cut French Taste Loose From Traditions And Freed Literature From

Superannuated Conventionalities. Also,  By Her Idea That A Common

Civilization Must Be Fostered,  A Union Of The Eastern And Western

Ideals,  And That Literature Must Be The Common Expression Thereof,

Whose Object Must Be The Amelioration Of Humanity,  Morally And

Religiously,  She Gave To The World At Large Ideas Which Are Only Now

Being Fully Appreciated And Nearing Realization. In Her Novels She

Vigorously Protested Against The Lot Of Woman In Modern Society,

Against Her Obligation To Submit Everything To Opinion,  Against The

Innumerable Obstacles In The Way Of Her Development--Thus Heralding

George Sand And The General Movement Toward Woman's Emancipation.

France Has Never Had A More Forceful,  Energetic,  Influential,

Cosmopolitan,  And At The Same Time Moral,  Writer Than Mme. De Staël.

 

The Events In The Life Of George Sand Had Comparatively Little

Influence Upon Her Works,  Which Were Mainly The Expression Of Her

Nature. As A Young Girl,  She Was Strongly Influenced By Her Mother,  An

Amiable But Rather Frivolous Woman,  And By Her Grandmother,  A Serious,

Cold,  Ceremonious Old Lady. Calm And Well Balanced,  And Possessing An

Ardent Imagination,  She Followed Her Own Inclinations When,  As A Girl

Of Sixteen,  She Was Married To A Man For Whom She Had No Love. After

Living An Indifferent Sort Of Life With Her Husband For Ten Years,

They Separated; And She,  With Her Children,  Went To Paris To Find

Work.

 

After A Number Of Unsuccessful Efforts Of A Literary Nature,  She

Wrote _Indiana_,  Which Immediately Made Her Success. Her Articles Were

Sought By The Journals,  And From About 1830 Her Life Was That Of The

Average Artist And Writer Of The Time. Her Relations With Chopin And

Alfred De Musset Are Too Well Known To Require Repetition. After 1850

She Retired To Her Home,  The Château De Nohant,  Where She Enjoyed The

Companionship Of Her Son,  Her Daughter-In-Law,  And Her Grandchildren;

She Died There In 1876.

Chapter 25 Pg 156

To Appreciate Her Works,  It Is More Important To Study Her Nature Than

Her Career. This Has Been Admirably Done By The Comte D'haussonville.

George Sand Is Said To Have Possessed A Dual Nature,  Which Seemed

To Contradict Itself,  But Which Explains Her Works--A Dreamy And

Meditative,  And A Lively,  Frolicsome Nature; The First Might Throw

Light Upon Her Religious Crisis,  The Second,  Upon Her Social Side.

The Combination Of These Two Phases Caused The Numerous Conflicts

Of Opinions And Doctrines,  Extending Her Knowledge And Inciting Her

Curiosity; The Not Infrequent Result Was An Intellectual And Moral

Bewilderment And The Deepest Melancholy,  From Which She With Great

Difficulty Freed Herself. Because Of These Peculiarities She Was

Constantly Agitated,  Her Strongly Reflective Nature Keeping Her Awake

To All Important Questions Of The Day.

 

Her Intellectual Development May Be Traced In Her Works,  Which,  From

1830 To 1840,  Were Personal,  Lyrical,  Spontaneous--A Direct Flow From

Inspiration,  Issuing From A Common Sourceived So Much Commendation,

That Would Have Meant Everything To Him A Few Brief Days Ago--Of Course,

Then It Would Have Been Different! But As It Was He Wondered That

Everybody Seemed So Much Interested In Things And Took So Much Trouble

For A Lot Of Nonsense.

 

Courtland Was Surprised To See His Father Come Into The Great Hall Just

As He Went Up On The Platform With His Class. He Hadn't Expected His

Father. He Was A Busy Man Who Did Not Get Away From His Office Often.

 

It Touched Him That His Father Cared To Come. He Changed His Plans And

Made It Possible To Take The Train Home With Him After The Exercises,

Instead Of Waiting A Day Or Two To Pack Up,  As He Had Expected To Do.

The Packing Could Wait Awhile. So He Went Home With His Father.

 

They Had A Long Talk On The Way,  One Of The Most Intimate That They Had

Ever Had. It Appeared During The Course Of Conversation That Mr.

Courtland Had Heard Of The Offer Made To His Son By Ramsey Thomas,  And

That He Was Not Unfavorable To Its Acceptance.

 

"Of Course,  You Don't Really Need To Do Anything Of The Sort,  You Know,

Paul," He Said,  Affably. "You've Got What Your Mother Left You Now,  And

On Your Twenty-Fifth Birthday There Will Be Two Hundred And Fifty

Thousand Coming To You From Your Grandfather Courtland's Estate. You

Could Spend Your Life In Travel And Study If You Cared To,  But I Fancy,

With Your Temperament,  You Wouldn't Be Quite Satisfied With An Idle Life

Like That. What's Your Objection To This Job?"

 

Courtland Told The Whole Story Carefully,  Omitting No Detail Of The

Matter Concerning Conditions At The Factory,  And The Matters At Which He

Was Not Only Expected To Wink,  But Also Sometimes To Help Along By His

Influence. He Realized,  As He Told It,  That His Father Would Look At The

Thing Fairly,  But Very Differently.

 

"Well,  After All," Said The Father,  Comfortably Settling Himself To

Another Cigar,  "That's All A Matter Of Sentiment. It Doesn't Do To Be

Too Squeamish,  You Know,  If You Have Ambitions. Besides,  With Your

Chapter 25 Pg 157

Income You Would Have Been Able To Help Out And Do A Lot Of Good. You

Ought To Have Thought Of That."

 

"In Other Words,  Earn My Salary By Squeezing The Life Out Of Them And

Then Toss Them A Penny To Buy Medicine. I Don't See It That Way! No,

Dad,  If I Can't Work At Something Clean I'll Go Out And Work In The

Ground,  Or Do _Nothing_,  But I _Won't_ Oppress The Poor."

 

"Oh,  Well,  Paul,  That's All Right If You Feel That Way About Of It,  Of

Course. Ramsey Thomas Wanted Me To Talk It Over With You; Promised To Do

The Square Thing By You And All That; And He's A Pretty Good Man To Get

In With. Of Course I Won't Urge You Against Your Will. But What Are You

Going To Do,  Son? Haven't You Thought Of Anything?"

 

"Yes," Said Courtland,  Leaning Back And Looking Steadily At His Father.

"I've Decided That I'd Like To Study Theology."

 

"Theology!" The Father Started And Knocked An Ash Delicately From The

End Of His Cigar. "H'm! Well,  That's Not A Bad Idea! Rather Odd,

Perhaps,  But Still There's Always Dignity And Distinction In It. Your

Great Grandfather On Your Mother's Side Was A Clergyman In The Church Of

England. Of Course It's Rather A Surprise,  But It's Always Respectable,

And With Your Money You Would Be Independent. You Wouldn't Have Any

Trouble In Getting A Wealthy And Influential Church,  Either. I Could

Manage That,  I Think."

 

"I'm Not Sure That I Want To Be A Clergyman,  Father. I Said _Study_

Theology. I Want To Know What Scholarly Christians Think Of The Bible.

I've Studied It With A Lot Of Scholarly Heathen Who Couldn't See

Anything In It But Literary Merit. Now I Want To See What It Is That Has

Made It A Living Power All Through The Ages. I've Got To Know What

Saints And Martyrs Have Founded Their Faith Upon."

 

"Well,  Paul,  I'm Afraid You're Something Of An Idealist And A Dreamer

Like Your Mother. Of Course It's All Right With Your Income,  But,

Generally Speaking,  It's As Well To Have An Object In View When You Take

Up Study. If I Were You I Would Look Into The Matter Most Carefully

Before I Made Any Decisions. If You Really Think The Ministry Is What

You Want,  Why,  I'll Just Put A Word In At Our Church For You. Our Old

Doctor Bates Is Getting A Little Out Of Date And He'll Be About Ready To

Be Put On The Retired List By The Time You Are Done Your Theological

Course. Let's See,  How Long Is It,  Three Years? Had You Thought Where

You Will Go? What Seminary? Better Make A Careful Selection; It Has So

Much To Do With Getting A Good Church Afterward!"

 

"Father! You Don't _Understand_!" Said Courtland,  Desperately,  And Then

Sat Back And Wondered How He Should Begin. His Father Had Been A

Prominent Member Of The Board Of Trustees In His Own Church For Years,

But Had He Ever Felt The Presence? In The Days When Courtland Used To

Sit And Kick His Heels In The Old Family Pew And Be Reproved For It By

His Aunt,  He Never Remembered Any Presence. Doctor Bates's Admirable

Sermons Had Droned On Over His Head Like The Dreamy Humming Of Bees In A

Summer Day. He Couldn't Remember A Single Thought That Ever Entered His

Mind From That Source. Was That All That Came Of Studying Theology?

Chapter 25 Pg 158

Well,  He Would Find Out,  And If It Was,  He Would _Quit_ It!

 

They Were All Comfortably Glad To See Him At Home. His Stepmother Beamed

Graciously Upon Him In Between Her Social Engagements,  And His Young

Brothers Swarmed Over Him,  Demanding All The Athletic News. The House

Was Big,  Ornate,  Perfect In Its Way. It Was Good To Eat Such Superior

Cooking--That Is,  If He Had Been Caring To Eat Anything Just Then; And

There Was A Certain Freedom In Life Out Of College That He Knew He Ought

To Enjoy; But Somehow He Was Restless. The Girls He Used To Know

Reminded Him Of Gila,  Or Else Had Grown Old And Fat. The Country Club

Didn't Interest Him In The Least,  Nor Did The Family's Plans For The

Summer. It Suited Him Not At All To Be Lionized On Account Of His

Brilliant Career At College. It Bored Him To Go Into Society.

 

Sometimes,  When He Was Alone In His Room,  He Would Think Of The

Situation And Try To Puzzle It Out. It Seemed As If He And The Presence

Were There On A Visit Which Neither Of Them Enjoyed Very Much,  And Which

They Were Enduring For The Sake Of His Father,  Who Seemed Gratified To

Have His Eldest Son At Home Once More. But All The Time Courtland Was

Chafing At The Delay. He Felt There Was Something He Ought To Be About.

There Wasn't Anything Here. Not Even The Young Brothers Presented A Very

Hopeful Field,  Or Perhaps He Didn't Know How To Go About It. He Tried

Telling Them Stories One Day When He Wheedled Them Off In The Car With

Him,  And They Listened Eagerly When He Told Them Of The Fire In The

Theater,  Stephen Marshall's Wonderful Part In The Rescue Of Many,  And

His Death. But When He Went On And Tried To Tell Them In Boy Language Of

His Own Experience He Could See Them Look Strangely,  Critically At Him,

And Finally The Oldest One Said: "Aw Rats! What Kinda Rot Are You Giving

Us,  Paul? You Were Nutty Then,  O' Course!" And He Saw That,  Young As

They Were,  Their Eyes Were Holden Like The Rest.

 

In The Second Week Courtland Made His Decision. He Would Go Back To The

University And Pack Up. Gila Would Be Away From The City By That Time;

There Would Be No Chance Of Meeting Her And Having His Wound Opened

Afresh. The Fellows Would Be All Gone And He Could Do About As He

Pleased.

 

It Was The Second Day After He Went Back That He Met Pat On The Street,

And It Was From Pat That He Learned That Tennelly And Bill Ward Had Gone

Down To The Shore To A House Party Given By "That Fluffy-Ruffles Cousin

Of Bill's."

 

Pat Drew His Own Conclusions From The White Look On Courtland's Face

When He Told Him. He Would Heartily Have Enjoyed Throttling The Girl If

He Had Had A Chance Just Then,  When He Saw The Look Of Suffering In

Courtland's Eyes.

 

Pat Clung To Courtland All That Week,  Helped Him Pack,  And Dogged His

Steps. Except When He Visited The Little Sacred Room At The End Of The

Hall In The Dormitory,  Courtland Was Never Sure Of Freedom From Him. He

Was Always On Hand To Propose A Hike Or A Trip To The Movies When He Saw

Courtland Was Tired. Courtland Was Grateful,  And There Was Something So

Loyal About Him That He Couldn't Give Him The Slip. So When He Went Down

After Burns And Whirled Him Away In His Big Gray Car To The Seashore

Chapter 25 Pg 159

Friday Morning To Stay Until Saturday Evening,  Pat Went Along.

Chapter 26 Pg 160

 

They Certainly Were A Queer Trio,  The Little Scotch Preacher,  The Big

Irish Athlete,  And The Cultured Aristocrat! Yet They Managed To Have A

Mighty Good Time Of It Those Two Days At The Shore,  And Came Back The

Warmest Of Friends. Pat Proved His Devotion To Burns By Attending Church

The Next Day With Courtland,  And Listening Attentively To Every Word

That Was Said. It Is True He Did It Much In The Same Way The Fellows

Used To Share One Another's Stunts In College,  Sticking By And Helping

Out When One Of The Gang Had A Hard Task To Perform. But It Pleased Both

Courtland And Burns That He Came. Courtland Wondered,  As He Shared The

Hymn-Book With Him And Heard Him Growl Out A Few Bass Notes To Old "Rock

Of Ages," Why It Was That It Seemed To Fill Him With A Kind Of

Exaltation To Hear Pat Sing. He Hadn't Yet Recognized The Call To Go

A-Fishing For Men,  Nor Knew That It Was The Divine Angler's Deep Delight

In His Employment That Was Filling Him. It Was While They Were Singing

That Hymn That He Stole A Look At Pat,  And Felt A Sudden Wonder Whether

He Would Understand About The Presence Or Not,  A Burning Desire To Tell

Him About It Some Time If The Right Opportunity Offered.

 

The Days Down At The Shore Had Done A Lot For Courtland. He Had Taken

Care That The Spot He Selected Was Many Miles Removed From The Popular

Resort Where Mr. Dare Had A Magnificent Cottage; And There Had Been

Absolutely Nothing In The Whole Two Days To Remind Him Of Gila. It Was A

Quiet Place,  With A Far,  Smooth Beach,  And No Board Walks Nor Crowds To

Shut Out The Vision Of The Sea. He Leaped Along The Sand And Dived Into

The Water With His Old Enthusiasm. He Played Like A Fish In The Ocean.

He Taught Burns Several Things About Swimming,  And Played Pranks Like A

School-Boy. He Basked In The Sun And Told Jokes,  Laughing At Pat's

Brilliant Wit And Burns's Dry Humor. At Night They Took Long Walks Upon

The Sand And Talked Of Deep Things That Pat Could Scarcely Understand.

He Was Satisfied To Stride Between Them,  Listening To The Vigorous Ring

Of Courtland's Old Natural Voice Again. He Heard Their Converse High

Above Where He Lived,  And Loved Them For The Way They Searched Into

Things Too Deep For Him.

 

It Was Out In The Wildest,  Loneliest Part Of The Beach That Night That

He Heard The First Hint Of What Had Come To The Soul Of Courtland. Pat

Had Come Of Catholic Ancestry. He Had An Inheritance Of Reverence For

The Unseen. He Had Never Been Troubled With Doubts Or Sneers. He Had Let

Religion Go By And Shed It Like A Shower,  But He Respected It.

 

Courtland Spent Much Time In The Vicinity Of The Factory And Of Robert

Burns's Church During The Next Few Weeks. He Helped Burns A Good Deal,

For The Man Had Heavily Taxed Himself With The Burdens Of The Poor About

Him. Courtland Found Ways To Privately Relieve Necessity And Put A Poor

Soul Now And Then On His Feet And Able To Face The World Again By The

Loan Of A Few Cents Or Dollars. It Took So Pitifully Little To Open The

Gate Of Heaven To Some Lives! Courtland With His Keen Intellect And Fine

Perceptions Was Able Sometimes To Help The Older Man In His

Perplexities; And Once,  When Burns Was Greatly Worried Over A Bill That

Was Hanging Fire During A Prolonged Session Of Congress,  Courtland Went

Down To Washington For A Week-End And Hunted Up Some Of His Father's

Congressional Friends. He Told Them A Few Facts Concerning Factories In

General,  And A Certain Model,  White-Marble,  Much Be-Vined Factory In

Particular,  That At Least Opened Their Eyes If It Did Not Make Much

Difference In The General Outcome. But Though The Bill Failed To Pass

That Session,  Being Skilfully Side-Tracked,  Courtland Had Managed To

Stir Up A Bit Of Trouble For Uncle Ramsey Thomas That Made Him Storm

About His Office Wrathfully And Wonder Who That "Darned Little Rat Of A

Preacher" Had Helping Him Now!

 

It Was Late In September That Pat,  With A Manner Of Studied

Indifference,  Told Courtland Of A Rumor That Tennelly Was Engaged To

Gila Dare.

 

It Was The Very Next Sunday Night That Tennelly Turned Up At Courtland's

Apartment After He And Pat Had Gone To The Evening Service,  And Followed

Them To The Church. He Dropped Into A Seat Beside Pat,  Amazed To Find

Him There.

 

"You Here!" He Whispered,  Grasping Pat's Hand With The Old Friendly

Grip. "Where's Court?"

 

Pat Grinned And Nodded Up Toward The Pulpit.

 

Tennelly Looked Forward And For A Minute Did Not Comprehend. Then He Saw

Courtland Sitting Gravely In A Pulpit Chair By The Little Red-Headed

Scotch Preacher.

 

"What In Thunder!" He Growled,  Almost Out Loud. "What's The Joke?"

 

Pat's Face Was On The Defensive At Once,  Though It Was Plain He Was

Enjoying Tennelly's Perplexity. "Court's Going To Speak To-Night!" It Is

Probable Pat Never Enjoyed Giving Any Information So Much As That

Sentence In His Life.

 

"The Deuce He Is!" Said Tennelly,  Out Loud. "You're Lying,  Man!" Which,

Considering That The Scotchman Was Praying,  Was Slightly Out Of Place.

 

Pat Frowned. "Shut Up,  Nelly. Can't You See The Game's Called? I'm

Telling You Straight. If You Don't Believe It Wait And See."

 

Chapter 26 Pg 161

Preaching? Consternation Filled His Soul. He Loved Courtland As His Own

Brother. He Would Have Done Anything To Save His Brilliant Career For

Him.

 

He Hadn't Intended Staying To Service. His Plan Had Been To Slip In,  Get

Courtland To Come Away With Him,  Have A Talk,  And Go Back To The Shore

On The Late Train. But The Present Situation Altered His Plans. There

Was Nothing For It Now But To Stay And See This Thing Through. Pat Was A

Whole Lot Deeper Than The Rest Had Ever Given Him Credit For Being. Pat

Was Enjoying The Psychological Effect Of The Service On Tennelly. He Had

Never Been Much Of A Student In The Psychology Class,  But When It Came

Right Down To Plain Looking Into Another Man's Soul And Telling What He

Was Thinking About,  And What He Was Going To Do Next,  Pat Was All There.

That Was What Made Him Such An Excellent Football-Player. When He Met

His Opponent He Could Always Size Him Up And Tell Just About What Kind

Of Plays He Was Going To Make,  And Know How To Prepare For Them. Pat Was

No Fool.

 

That Was A Most Unusual Service. The Minister Read The Story Of The

Martyr Stephen,  And The Conversion Of Saul Of Tarsus,  Taken From The

Sixth,  Seventh,  Eighth,  And Ninth Chapters Of Acts. It Was Brief And

Dramatic In The Reading. Even Tennelly Was Caught And Held As Burns Read

In His Clear,  Direct Way That Made Scripture Seem To Live Again In

Modern Times.

 

"I Have Asked My Friend Mr. Courtland To Tell You The Story Of How He

Met Jesus One Day On The Damascus Road," Said Burns,  As He Closed The

Bible And Turned To Courtland,  Sitting Still With Bowed Head Just Behind

Him.

 

Courtland Had Made Many Speeches During His College Days. He Had Been

The Prince Among His Class For Debate. He Had Been Proud Of His Ability

As A Speaker,  And Had Delighted In Being Able To Hold And Sway An

Audience. He Had Never Known Stage Fright,  Nor Dreaded Appearing Before

People. But Ever Since Burns Had Asked Him If He Would Be Willing To

Tell The Story Of The Presence To His People In The Church Before He

Left For His Theological Studies,  Courtland Had Been Just Plain

Frightened. He Had Consented. Somehow He Couldn't Do Anything Else,  It

Was So Obviously To His Mind A "Call"; But If Had Been A Coward In Any

Sense He Would Have Run Away That Saturday Afternoon And Got Out Of It

All. Only His Horror Of Being "Yellow" Had Kept Him To His Promise.

 

Since Ascending To The Platform He Had Been Overcome By The Audacity Of

The Idea That He,  A Mere Babe In Knowledge,  A Recent Scorner,  Should

Attempt To Get Up And Tell A Roomful Of People,  Who Knew Far More About

The Bible Than He Did,  How He Found Christ. There Were No Words In Which

To Tell Anything! They Had All Fled From His Mind And It Was A Blank!

 

He Dropped His Head Upon His Hand In His Weakness To Pray For Strength,

And A Great Calm Came To His Soul. The Prayer And Bible-Reading Had

Steadied Him,  And He Had Been Able To Get Hold Of What He Had To Say As

The Story Of The Young Man Saul Progressed. But When He Heard Himself

Being Introduced So Simply,  And Knew His Time Had Come,  He Seemed To

Hear The Words He Had Read That Afternoon:

 

     Fear Not; For I Am With Thee: Be Not Dismayed; For I Am Thy

     God: I Will Strengthen Thee; Yea,  I Will Help Thee; Yea,  I

     Will Uphold Thee With The Right Hand Of My Righteousness.

 

Courtland Lifted Up His Head And Arose. He Faced The Sea Of Faces That A

Few Moments Before Had Swum Before His Gaze As If They Had Been A

Million. Then All At Once Tennelly's Face Stood Out From All The Rest,

Intent,  Curious,  Wondering,  And Courtland Knew That His Opportunity Had

Come To Tell Tennelly About The Presence!

 

Tennelly,  The Man Whom He Loved Above All Other Men! Tennelly,  The Man

Who Perhaps Loved Gila And Was To Be Close To Her Through Life! His

Fears Vanished. His Soul Burned Within Him.

 

Fixing His Eyes On That Fine,  Vivid Face,  Courtland Began His Story; And

Truly The Words That He Used Must Have Been Drawn Red-Hot From His

Heart,  For He Spoke As One Inspired. Simply,  As If He Were Alone In The

Room With Tennelly,  He Looked Into His Friend's Eyes And Told His Story,

Forgetting All Others Present,  Intent Only On Making Tennelly See What

Christ Had Been To Him,  What He Was Willing To Be To Tennelly--And Gila!

If They Would!

 

Tennelly Did Not Take His Eyes From The Speaker. It Was Curious To See

Him So Absorbed,  Tennelly,  Who Was So Conventional,  So Careful What

People Thought,  So Always Conscious Of All Elements In His Environment.

It Was As If His Soul Were Sitting Frankly In His Eyes For The First

Time In His Life,  And Things Unsuspected,  Perhaps,  Even By Himself,  Came

Out And Showed Themselves: Traits,  Weaknesses,  Possibilities; Longings,

Too,  And Pride.

 

When Courtland Had Finished And Sat Down He Did Not Drop His Head Upon

His Hands Again. He Had Spoken In The Strength Of The Lord. He Had

Nothing Of Which To Be Ashamed. He Was Looking Now At The Audience,  No

Longer At Tennelly. He Began To Realize That It Had Been Given To Him To

Bear The Message To All These Other People Also. He Was Filled With

Humble Exaltation That To Him Had Been Intrusted This Great Opportunity.

 

The People,  Too,  Were Hushed And Filled With Awe. They Showed By The

Quiet Way They Reached For The Hymn-Books,  The Reverent Bowing Of Their

Heads For The Final Prayer,  That They Had All Felt The Power Of Christ

With The Speaker. They Lingered,  Many Of Them,  And Came Up,  Pressing

About Him,  Just To Touch His Hand And Make Mute Appeal With Their

Troubled Eyes. Some To Ask Him Eagerly For Reassurance Of What He Had

Been Saying; Others To Thank Him For The Story. They Were So Humble,  So

Sincere,  So Eager,  These Common People,  Like The Ones Of Old Who Crowded

Around The Master And Heard Him Gladly. Paul Courtland Was Filled With

Humility. He Stood There Half Embarrassed As They Pressed About Him. He

Took Their Hands And Smiled His Brotherhood,  But Scarcely Knew What To

Say To Them. He Felt An Awkward Boy Who Had Made A Great Discovery About

Chapter 26 Pg 162

Pat And Tennelly Stood Back Against The Wall And Waited,  Saying Not A

Word. Tennelly Watched The People Curiously As They Went Out: Humble,

Common People,  Subdued,  Wistful,  Even Tearful; Some Of Them With

Illumined Faces As If They Had Seen A Great Light In Their Darkness.

 

When At Last Courtland Drifted Down To The Back Of The Church And

Reached Tennelly The Two Met With A Look Straight Into Each Other's

Soul,  While Their Hands Gripped In The Old Brotherhood Clasp. Not A

Smile Nor A Commonplace Expression Crossed Either Face--Just That

Strong,  Steady Look Of Recognition And Understanding. It Was Tennelly

Looking At Courtland,  The New Man In Christ Jesus; Courtland Looking At

Tennelly After He Had Heard The Story.

 

They Walked Back To Courtland's Apartments Almost In Silence,  A Kind Of

Holy Embarrassment Upon Them All. Pat Whistled "Rock Of Ages" Softly

Under His Breath Most Of The Way.

 

They Sat For A Time,  Talking,  Stiffly,  As If They Hardly Knew One

Another,  Telling The News. Bill Ward Had Gone To California To Look Into

A Big Land Deal In Which His Father Was Interested. Wittemore's Mother

Had Died And He Wasn't Coming Back Next Year For His Senior Year. It Was

All Surface Talk. Pat Put In A Little About Football. He Discussed Which

Of Last Year's Scrubs Were Most Hopeful Candidates For The 'Varsity Team

This Year. Not One Of The Three At That Moment Cared A Rap Whether The

University Had Any Football Team Or Not. Their Thoughts Were Upon Deeper

Things.

 

But The Recent Service Was Not Mentioned,  Nor The Extraordinary Fact Of

Courtland's Having Taken Part In It. By Common Consent They Shunned The

Subject. It Was Too Near The Heart Of Each.

 

Finally Pat Discreetly Took Himself Off,  Professedly In Search Of

Ice-Water,  As The Cooler In The Hall Had For Some Reason Run Dry. He Was

Gone Some Time.

 

When He Had Left The Room Tennelly Sat Up Alertly. He Had Something To

Say To Courtland Alone. It Must Be Said Now Before Pat Returned.

 

Courtland Got Up,  Crossed The Room,  And Stood Looking Out Of The Window

On The Myriad Lights Of The City. There Was In His Face A Far Yearning,

And Something Too Deep For Words. It Was As If He Were Waiting For A

Blow To Fall.

 

Tennelly Looked At Courtland's Back And Gathered Up His Courage:

"Court," He Said,  Hoarsely,  Trying To Summon The Nomenclature Of The

Dear Old Days; "There's Something I Wanted To Ask You. Was There

Anything--Is There--Between You And Gila Dare That Makes It Disloyal For

Your Friend To Try And Win Her If He Can?"

 

It Was Very Still In The Room. The Whir Of The Trolleys Could Be Heard

Below As If They Were Out In The Hall. They Grated Harshly On The

Silence. Courtland Stood As If Carved Out Of Marble. It Seemed Ages To

Tennelly Before He Answered,  With The Sadness Of The Grave In His Tone

Chapter 26 Pg 163

"No,  Nelly! It's All Right! Gila And I Didn't Hit It Off! It's All Over

Between Us Forever. Go Ahead! I Wish You Luck!"

 

There Was An Attempt At The Old Loving Understanding In The Answer,  But

Somehow The Last Words Had Almost The Sound Of A Sob In Them. Tennelly

Had A Feeling That He Was Wringing His Own Happiness Out Of His Friend's

Soul:

 

"Thanks,  Awfully,  Court! I Didn't Know," He Said,  Awkwardly. "I Think

She Likes Me A Lot,  But I Couldn't Do Anything If You Had The Right Of

Way."

 

When Pat Came Back With A Tray Of Glasses Clinking With Ice,  And The

Smell Of Crushed Lemons,  They Were Talking Of The New English Professor

And The Chances That He Would Be Better Than The Last,  Who Was "Punk."

But Pat Was Not Deceived. He Looked From One To The Other And Knew The

Blow Had Fallen. He Might Have Prevented It,  But What Was The Use? It

Had To Come Sooner Or Later. They Talked Late. Finally,  Tennelly Rose

And Came Toward Courtland,  With His Hand Outstretched,  And They All Knew

That The Real Moment Of The Evening Had Come At Last:

 

"That Was A Great Old Talk You Gave Us This Evening,  Court!" Tennelly's

Voice Was Husky With Feeling. One Felt That He Had Been Keeping The

Feeling Out Of Sight All The Evening. He Was Holding Courtland's Hand In

A Painful Grip,  And Looking Again Into His Eyes As If He Would Search

His Soul To The Depths: "You Sure Have Got Hold Of Something There

That's Worth Looking Into! You Had A Great Hold On Your Audience,  Too!

Why,  You Almost Persuaded Me There Was Something In It!"

 

Tennelly Tried To Finish His Sentence In Lighter Vein,  But The Feeling

Was In His Voice Yet.

 

Courtland Gripped His Hand And Looked His Yearning With A Sudden Light

Of Joy And Hope: "If You Only Would,  Nelly! It's Been The Thing I've

Longed For--!"

 

"Not Yet!" Said Tennelly,  Almost Pulling His Hand Away From The

Detaining Grasp. "Some Time,  Perhaps,  But Not Now! I've Too Much Else On

Hand! I Must Beat It Now! Man Alive! Do You Know What Time It Is? See

You Soon Again!" Tennelly Was Off In A Whirl Of Words.

 

"Almost Thou Persuadest Me!" Had Some One Whispered The Words Behind Him

As He Went?

 

Courtland Stood Looking After Him Till The Door Closed,  Then He Turned

And Stepped To The Window Again. He Was So Long Standing There,

Motionless,  That Pat Went At Last And Touched Him On The Shoulder.

 

"Say,  Pard," He Said,  In A Low,  Gruff Voice. "I'm Nothing But A

Roughneck,  I Know,  And Not Worth Much At That,  But If It's Any

Satisfaction To You To Know You've Bowled A Bum Like Me Over To His

Side,  Why _I'm With You_!"

 

Courtland Turned And Grasped His Hand,  Throwing The Other Arm About

Pat's Shoulder. "It Sure Is,  Pat,  Old Boy," He Said,  Eagerly. "It's The

Greatest Thing Ever! Thanks! I Needed That Just Now! I'm All In!"

 

They Stood So For Some Minutes With Their Arms Across Each Other's

Shoulders,  Looking Out Of The Window To The City,  Lying Sorrowful,

Forgetful,  Sinful,  Before Them; Down To The Street Below,  Where Tennelly

Hastened On To Win His Gila; Up To The Quiet,  Wise Old Stars Above.

 

 

 

Chapter 27 Pg 164

 

Tennelly Did Not Come Back As He Had Promised. Instead He Wrote A Gay

Little Note To Tell Of His Engagement To Gila. He Said It Was Not To Be

Announced Publicly Yet,  As Gila Was So Young. They Would Wait A Year

Perhaps Before Announcing It To The World,  But He Wanted Courtland To

Know. In An Added Line At The Bottom He Said: "That Was A Great Old

Speech You Made The Other Night,  Court. I Haven't Forgotten It Yet. Your

Reference To Marshall Was A Cracker-Jack! The Faculty Ought To Have

Heard It."

 

Courtland Read It Wearily,  Closed His Eyes For A Minute,  Passed His Hand

Over His Brow,  Then He Handed The Note Over To Pat. The Understanding

Between The Two Was Very Deep And Tender Now.

 

Pat Read Without Comment,  But The Frown On His Brow Matched The Set Of

His Big Jaw. When He Spoke Again It Was To Tell Courtland Of The Job He

Had Been Offered As Athletic Coach In A Preparatory School In The Same

Neighborhood With The Theological Seminary Where Courtland Had Decided

To Study. Courtland Listened Without Hearing And Smiled Wearily. He Was

Entering His Gethsemane. Neither One Of Them Slept Much That Night.

 

In The Early Dawning Courtland Arose,  Dressed,  And Silently Stole Out Of

The Room,  Down Through The Sleeping City,  Out To The Country,  Where He

Had Gone Once Before When Trouble Struck Him. It Seemed To Him He Must

Get Away To Breathe,  He Must Go Where He And God Could Be Alone.

 

Pat Understood. He Only Waited Till Courtland Was Gone To Fling On His

Clothes In A Hurry And Be After Him. He Had Noted From The Window The

Direction Taken,  And Guessed Where He Would Be.

 

On And On Walked Courtland With The Burning Sorrow In His Soul; Out

Chapter 27 Pg 165

Through The Heated City,  Over The Miles Of Dusty Road,  His Feet Finding

Their Way Without Apparent Direction From His Mind; Out To The Stream,

And The Path Where Wild Flowers And Grasses Had Strewn The Ground In

Springtime; Gay Now With White And Purple Asters. The Rocks Wore Vines

Of Crimson,  And Goldenrod Was Full Of Bees And Yellow Butterflies.

Gnarled Roots Bore Little Creeping Tufts Of Squawberry With Bright,  Red

Berries Dotting Thick Between. But Courtland Passed On And Saw It Not.

 

Above,  The Sky Was Deepest Blue And Flecked With Summer Clouds.

Loud-Voiced Birds Called Gaily Of The Summer's Ending,  Talked Of Travel

In A Glad,  Gay Lilt. The Bees Droned On; The Bullfrogs Gave Forth A Deep

Wise Thought Or Two; While Softly,  Deeply,  Brownly,  Flowed The Stream

Beside The Path,  With Only A Far,  Still Fisherman Here And There Who

Noticed Not. But Courtland Heard Nothing,  Saw Nothing But The Dark Of

His Gethsemane. For Every Nodding Goldenrod And Saucy Purple Aster Was

But A Bright-Winged Thought To Him To Bring Back The Saucy,  Lovely Face

Of Gila. She Belonged Now To Another. He Had Not Realized Before How

Fully He Had Chosen,  How Lost She Was To Him,  Until Another,  And That

His Best Friend,  Had Taken Her For His Own. Not That He Repented His

Decision Or Drew Back. Oh No! He Could Not Have Chosen Otherwise. Yet

Now,  Face To Face With The Truth,  He Realized That He Had Always Hoped,

Even When He Walked Away From Her,  That She Would Find The Christ And

One Day They Would Come Together Again. Now That Hope Was Gone Forever.

She Might Find The Christ,  He Hoped--Yes,  Hoped And Prayed She

Would!--It Was A Wish Apart From His Personal Loss,  But She Could Never

Summon Him Now,  For She Had Given Herself To Another!

 

He Gained At Last The Rock-Bound Refuge Where He Knelt Once Before. Pat,

Coming Later From Afar,  Saw His Old Panama Lying Down On The Moss And

Knew That He Was There. Creeping Softly Up,  He Assured Himself That All

Was Well,  Then Crept Away To Wait. Pat Had Brought A Basket Of Grapes

And A Great Bag Of Luscious Pears Against The Time When Courtland Should

Have Fought His Battle And Come Forth. What Those Hours Of Waiting Meant

To Pat Might Perhaps Be Found Written In The Lives Of Some Of The Boys

In That School Where He Coached Athletics The Next Winter. But What They

Meant To Courtland Will Only Be Found Written In The Records On High.

 

Some Time A Little After Noon There Came A Peace To Courtland's Troubled

Soul.

 

     When Thou Passest Through The Waters I Will Be With Thee,

     And Through The Floods They Shall Not Overflow Thee!

 

It Was As Near To Him As Whispers In His Ear,  And Peace Was All About

Him.

 

He Stood Up,  Looked Abroad,  Saw The Beauty Of The Day,  Heard The

Dreaminess Of The Afternoon Coming On,  Heard Louder God's Call To His

Heart,  And Knew That There Was Strength For All His Need. It Was Then

Pat Came With His Refreshment Like A Ministering Angel.

 

When They Got Back To The City That Evening There Was A Note From

Bonnie,  The First Courtland Had Received Since The Formal Announcement

Of Her Arrival And Her Gratitude To Him For Being The Means Of Bringing

Her To That Dear Home.

 

This Letter Was Almost As Brief As The First,  But It Breathed A Spirit

Of Peace And Content. She Enclosed A Check On The Funeral Account.

Bonnie Was Well And Happy. She Was Teaching The Grammar-School Where

Stephen Marshall Used To Study When He Was A Little Boy,  And Giving

Music Lessons In The Afternoons. She Would Soon Be Able To Pay Back

Everything She Owed And To Do A Daughter's Share In The Home Where She

Was Treated Like An Own Child. She Closed By Saying That The Kindness He

Had Shown Her Would Never Be Forgotten; That He Had Seemed To Her,  And

Always Would,  Like The Messenger Of The Lord Sent To Help Her In Her

Despair.

 

There Was A Ring So Fresh And Strong And True In This Little Letter,

That He Could But Recognize It. He Sighed And Thought How Strange It Was

That He Should Almost Resent It,  Coming As It Did In Contrast With

Gila's Falseness. Gila Who Had Professed To Love Him So Deeply,  And Then

Had So Easily Laid That Love Aside And Put On Another. Perhaps All Girls

Were The Same. Perhaps This Bonnie,  Too,  Would Do The Same If A Man

Turned Out Not To Have Her Ideals.

 

He Answered Bonnie's Note In A Day Or Two With A Cordial One,  Returning

Her Check,  Assuring Her That Everything Was Fully Paid,  And Expressing

His Pleasure That She Had Found A Real Home And Congenial Work. Then He

Dismissed Her From His Mind.

 

A Week Later He Went To The Seminary,  And Pat Accompanied Him As Far As

The Preparatory School Where He Was To Enter Upon His Duties As Athletic

Coach.

 

Courtland Found The Atmosphere Of The Seminary Quite Different From

College. The Men Were Older. They Had Chosen Definitely Their Work In

The World. Their Talk Was Of Things Ecclesiastical. The Happenings Of

The Day Were Spoken Of With Reference To The Religious World. It Was A

New Viewpoint In Every Sense Of The Word. And Yet He Was Disappointed

That He Did Not Find A More Spiritual Atmosphere Among The Young Men Who

Were Studying For The Ministry. If Anywhere In The World The Presence

Might Be Expected To Be Moving And Apparent It Should Be Here,  He

Reasoned,  Where Men Had Definitely Given Themselves To The Study Of The

Gospel Of Christ,  And Where All Were Supposed To Believe In Him And To

Have Acknowledged Him Before The World. He Found Himself The Only Man In

The Place Who Was Not A Member Of Any Church,  And Yet There Were But

Three Or Four That He Had The Feeling He Could Speak To About The

Presence And Not Be Looked Upon As "Queer." There Was Much Worldly Talk.

There Was A Great Deal Of Church Gossip About Churches And Ministers;

What This One Was Paid And What That One Got; The Chances Of A Man Being

Called To A City Church When He Was Just Out Of The Seminary. It Was The

Way His Father Had Talked When He Told Him He Wanted To Study Theology.

It Turned Him Sick At Heart To Hear Them. It Seemed So Far From The

Attitude A Servant Of The Lord Should Have. He Was In A Fair Way To Lose

His Ideal Of Ministers As Well As Of Women. He Mentioned It One Day

Bitterly To Pat When He Came Over To Spend A Spare Evening,  As He

Frequently Did.

 

Chapter 27 Pg 166

"I Think You're Wrong," Said Pat,  In His Queer,  Abrupt Way. "From What I

Can Figure There Was Only A Few Of Those Guys Got Around Christ And Knew

What He Really Was! You Didn't Suppose It Would Be Any Different Now,

Did You? Guess You'll Find It That Way Everywhere,  Only A Few _Real_

Folks In _Any_ Gang!"

 

Courtland Looked At Pat In Wonder. He Was A Constant Surprise To His

Friend,  In That He Grew So Fast In The Christian Life. He Had A Little

Bible That He Had Bought Before He Left The City. It Was Small And Fine

And Expensive,  Utterly Unlike Pat,  And He Carried It With Him Always,

Apparently Read It Much. He Hadn't Been Given To Reading Anything More

Than Was Required At College,  So It Was The More Surprising. He Told

Courtland He Wanted To Know The Rules Of The Game If He Was Going To Get

In It. His Sturdy Common-Sense Often Gave Courtland Something To Think

About. Pat Was Bringing His New Religion To Bear Upon His Work. He

Already Had A Devoted Bunch Of Boys To Whom He Was Dealing Out Wholesome

Truths Beginning A New Era In The School. The Head-Master Looked On In

Amazement,  For Morality Hadn't Been One Of The Chief Recommendations

That The Faculty Of The University Had Given Pat. They Had,  In Fact,

Privately Cautioned The School That They Would Have To Watch Out For

Such Things Themselves. Instead,  However,  Of Finding A Somewhat Lawless

Man In Their New Coach,  The Head-Master Was Surprised To Discover A

Purity Campaign On Foot,  A Ban On Swearing And Cigarette-Smoking Such As

They Had Never Been Able To Establish Before. It Came To Their Ears That

Pat Had Personally Conducted An Offender Along These Lines Out To The

Boundaries Of The School Grounds,  Well Behind The Gymnasium,  Where There

Was Utmost Privacy,  And Administered A Good Thrashing On His Own

Account. The Faculty Watched Anxiously To See The Effect Of Such Summary

Treatment On The Student Body,  But Were Relieved To Find That The New

Coach's Following Was In No Wise Diminished,  And That Better Conduct

Began Presently To Be The Order Of The Day.

 

Pat And Courtland Were Much Together These Days,  And One Sunday

Afternoon In Late October,  While The Sun Was Still Warm,  They Took The

Athletic Teams A Long Hike Over The Country. When They Sat Down To Rest

Pat Asked Courtland To Tell The Boys About Stephen,  And The Presence.

 

That Was The Real Beginning Of Courtland's Ministry,  Those Unexpected,

Spontaneous Talks With The Boys,  Where He Could Speak His Heart And Not

Be Afraid Of Being Misunderstood.

 

There Were Two Or Three Professors In The Seminary Who Struck Courtland

As Being Profoundly Spiritual And Sincere In Their Lives. They Were Old

Men,  Noted For Their Scholarship And Their Strong Faith The World Over.

They Taught As Courtland Imagined A Prophet Might Have Taught In The

Days Of The Old Testament,  With Their Ears Ever Open To See What The

Lord Would Have Them Speak To The Children Of Men. At Their Feet He Sat

And Drank In Great Draughts Of Knowledge,  Going Away Satisfied. There

Were Other Professors,  Some Of Them Brilliant In The Extreme,  Whose

Whole Attitude Toward The Bible And Christ Seemed To Have An Undertone

Of Flippancy,  And Who Fairly Delighted To Find An Unauthentic Portion

Over Which They Might Haggle Away The Precious Hours Of The Class-Room.

They Lacked The Reverent Attitude Toward Their Subject Which Only Could

Save The Higher Criticism From Being Destructive Rather Than

Constructive.

 

As The Year Went By He Came To Know His Fellow-Students Better,  And To

Find Among Them A Few Earnest,  Thoroughly Consecrated Fellows,  Most Of

Them Plain Men Like Burns,  Who Had Turned Aside From The World's

Allurements To Prepare Themselves To Carry The Gospel To Those Who Were

In Need. Most Of Them Were Poor Men Also,  And Of Humble Birth,  With A

Rare One Now And Then Of Brains And Family And Wealth,  Like Courtland,

To Whom God Had Come In Some Peculiar Way. These Were A Group Apart From

Others,  Whom The Rest Respected And Admired,  Yet Laughed At In A Gentle,

Humoring Sort Of Way,  As If They Wasted More Energy On Their Calling

Than There Was Any Real Need To Do. Some Of Them Were Going To Foreign

Lands When They Were Through,  Had Already Been Assigned To Their Mission

Stations,  And Were Planning With A Special View To The Needs Of The

Locality. Courtland Felt An Idler And Drone Among Them That He Did Not

Yet Know What He Was To Do.

 

The Men,  As They Came To Know Him Better,  Predicted Great Things For

Him: Wealthy Churches Falling At His Feet,  Brilliant Openings At His

Disposal; But Courtland Took No Part In Any Such Discussions. He Had The

Attitude Of Heart That He Was To Be Guided,  When He Was Through His

Studies,  Into The Place Where He Was Most Needed; It Mattered Not Where

So It Was The Place God Would Have Him To Be.

 

In February Burns Had A Farewell Service In His Church. He Had Resigned

His Pastorate And Was Going To China. Pat And Courtland Went Down To The

City To Attend The Service; And Monday Saw Him Off To San Francisco For

His Sea Voyage To China.

 

Courtland,  As He Stood On The Platform Watching The Train Move Away With

His Friend,  Wished He Could Be On That Train Going With Burns To China.

He Was To Take Up Burns's Work Around The Settlement And In The Factory

Section; To See Some Of His Friend's Plans Through To Completion. He Was

Almost Sorry He Had Promised. He Felt Utterly Inadequate To The

Necessity!

 

Spring Came,  And With It The Formal Announcement Of Tennelly's And

Gila's Engagement. Courtland And Pat Each Read It In The Papers,  But

Said Nothing Of It To Each Other. Courtland Worked The Harder These

Days.

 

He Tried To Plunge Into The Work And Forget Self,  And To A Certain

Extent Was Successful. He Found Plenty Of Distress And Sorrow To Stand

In Contrast With His Own; And His Hands And Heart Were Presently Full

To Overflowing.

 

Like The Faithful Fellow-Worker That He Was,  Pat Stuck By Him. Both

Looked Forward To The Week That Tennelly Had Promised To Spend With

Them. But Instead Of Tennelly Came A Letter. Gila's Plans Interfered And

He Could Not Come. He Wrote Joyously That He Was Sorry,  But He Couldn't

Possibly Make It. It Shone Between Every Line That Tennelly Was

Overwhelmingly Happy.

 

"Good Old Nelly!" Said Courtland,  With A Sigh,  Handing The Letter Over

Chapter 27 Pg 167

To Pat,  For These Two Shared Everything These Days.

 

Courtland Stood Staring Out Of The Window At The Vista Of Roofs And Tall

Chimneys. The Blistering Summer Sun Simmered Hot And Sickening Over The

City. Red Brick And Dust And Grime Were All Around Him. His Soul Was

Weary Of The Sight And Faltered In Its Way. What Was The Use Of Living?

What?

 

Then Suddenly He Straightened Up And Leaned From The Window Alertly! The

Fire Alarm Was Sounding. Its Sinister Wheeze Shrilled Through The Hot

Air Tauntingly! It Sounded Again. One! Two! One! Two! Three! It Was In

The Neighborhood.

 

Without Waiting For A Word,  Both Men Sprang Out The Door And Down The

Stairs.

 

 

Chapter 28 Pg 168

"The Whited Sepulcher," As Some Of The Bitterest Of Her Poorly Paid

Slaves Called The Model Factory,  Stood Coolly,  Insolently,  Among Her

Dirty,  Red-Brick,  Grime-Stained Neighbors; Like Some Dainty Lady

Appareled In Sheer Muslins And Jewels Appearing On The Threshold Of The

Hot Kitchen Where Her Servitors Were Sweating And Toiling To Prepare Her

A Feast.

 

The Luxuriant Vines Were Green And Abundant,  Creeping Coolly About The

White Walls,  Befringing The Windows Charmingly,  Laying Delicate Clinging

Fingers Even Up To The Very Eaves,  And Straying Out Over The Roof. No

Matter How Parched The Ground In The Little Parks Of The District,  No

Matter How Yellow The Leaves On The Few Stunted Trees Near By,  No Matter

How Low The City's Supply Of Water,  Nor How Many Public Fountains Had To

Be Temporarily Shut Off,  That Vine Was Always Well Watered. Its Root Lay

Deep In Soft,  Moist Earth Well Fertilized And Cared For; Its Leaves Were

Washed Anew Each Evening With Refreshing Spray From The Hose That Played

Over It. "Seems Like I'd Just Like To Lie Down There And Sleep With My

Face Clost Up To It,  All Wet And Cool-Like,  All Night!" Sighed One Poor

Little Bony Victim Of A Girl,  Scarcely More Than A Child,  As The Throng

Pressed Out The Wide Door At Six O'clock And Caught The Moist Fragrance

Of The Damp Earth And Growing Vine.

 

"You Look All In,  Susie!" Said Her Neighbor,  Pausing In Her Interminable

Gum-Chewing To Eye Her Friend Keenly. "Say,  You Better Go With Me To

The Movies To-Night! I Know A Nice Cool One Fer A Nickel!"

 

"Can't!" Sighed Susie. "'Ain't Got Ther Nickel,  And,  Besides,  I Gotta

Stay With Gran'mom While Ma Goes Up With Some Vests She's Been Makin'.

Oh,  I'm All Right! I Jus' Was Thinkin' About The Vine; It Looks So Cool

And Purty. Say,  Katie,  It's Somepin' To B'long To A Vine Like That,  Even

If We Do Have It Rotten Sometimes! Don't You Always Feel Kinda

Proud-Like When You Come In The Door,  'Most As If It Was A Palace? I

Like To Pertend It's All A Great Big House Where I Live,  And There's

Carpets And Lace Curtings To The Winders,  And A Real Gold Sofy With

Pink-Velvet Cushings! And When I Come Down And See One Of The Company's

Ottymobiles Standin' By The Curb Waitin',  I Like To Pertend It's Mine,

Only I Don't Ride 'Cause I've Been Ridin' So Much I'd _Ruther_ Walk!

Don't You Ever Do That,  Katie?"

 

"Not On Yer _Life_,  I Don't!" Said Katie,  With An Ugly Frown. "I Hate

The Old Dump! I Hate Every Stone In The Whole Pile! I Could Tear That

Nasty Green Vine Down An' Stamp On It. I'd Like To Strip Its Leaves Off

An' Leave It Bare. I'd Like To Turn The Hose Off And See It Dry Up An'

Be All Brown,  An' Ugly,  An' Dead. It's Stealin' The Water They Oughtta

Have Over There In The Fountain. It's Stealin' The Money They Oughtta

Pay Us Fer Our Work! It's Creepin' Round The Winders An' Eatin' Up The

Air. Didn't You Never Take Notice To How They Let It Grow Acrost The

Winders To Hide Folks From Lookin' In From The Visitor's Winders There

On The East Side? They Don't Care How It Shuts Away The Draught And

Makes It Hotter 'N A Furnace Where We Work! No,  You Silly! I Never Was

Proud To Come In That Old Marble Door! I Was Always Mad,  Away Down

Inside,  That I Had To Work Here. I Had To Go Crawlin' And Askin' Fer A

Job,  An' Take All Their Insults,  An' Be Locked In A Trap. Take It From

Me,  There's Goin' To Be Some Awful Accident Happen Here Some Day! If A

Fire Should Break Out How Many D'you S'pose Could Get Out Before They

Was Burned To A Crisp? Did You Know Them Winders Was Nailed So They

Wouldn't Go Up Any Higher 'N A Foot? Did You Know They 'Ain't Got 'Nouf

Fire-Escapes To Get Half Of Us Out Ef Anythin' Happened? Did You Never

Take Notice To The Floor Roun' Them Three Biggest Old Machines They've

Got Up On The Sixth? I Stepped Acrost There This Mornin'--Mr. Brace Sent

Me Up On A Message To The Forewoman--An' That Floor Shook Under My Feet

Like A Earthquake! Sam Warner Says The Building Ain't Half Strong Enough

Fer Them Machines,  Anyway. He Says They'd Oughtta Put 'Em Down On The

First Floor; But They Didn't Want To 'Cause They Don't Show Off Good To

Visitors,  So They Stuck 'Em Up On The Sixth,  Where They Don't Many See

'Em. But Sam Says Some Day They're Goin' To Bust Right Through The

Floor,  An' Ef They Do,  They Ain't Gonta Stop Till They Get Clear Down To

The Cellar,  An' They'll Wipe Out Everythin' In Their Way When They Go!

B'leeve Me! I Don't Wantta Be Workin' Here When That Happens!"

 

"_Good Night!_" Said Susie,  Turning Pale. "Them Big Machines On The

Sixth Is Right Over Where I Work On The Fifth! Say,  Katie,  Le's Ast Mr.

Brace To Put Us On The Other Side The Room! Aw,  Gee! Katie! What's The

Use O' Livin'? I'd 'Most Be Willin' To Be Dead Jest To Get Cool! Seems

Zif It's Allus Either Awful Hot Er Awful Cold!"

 

They Went To Their Stifling Tenements And Their Unattractive Suppers.

Chapter 28 Pg 169

They Dragged Their Weary Feet Over The Hot,  Dark Pavements,  Laughing And

Talking Boisterously With Their Comrades,  Or Crowded Into Places Of

Amusement To Forget For A Little While,  Then To Creep Back To Toss The

Night Out On A Hard Cot In Breathless Air Or To Creep To Fire-Escape Or

Flat Roof For A Few Brief Hours Of Relief,  Till It Was Time To Return To

The Vine-Clad Factory And Its Hot,  Noisy Slavery For Another Day.

 

Three Girls Fainted On The Fifth Floor And Two On The Sixth Next

Morning. They Were Not Carried To The Cool And Shaded Rest-Rooms To

Revive,  But Lay On The Floor With Their Heads Huddled On A Pile Of

Waste,  And Had A Little Warmish Water From The Rusty "Cooler" In The

Back Stairway Poured Upon Them As They Lay. No White-Clad Nurse With

Palm Leaf And Cooling Drinks Attended Their Unconscious State,  Although

There Was One In Attendance In The Rest-Room Whose Duty It Was To Look

After The Comfort Of Any Chance Visitors. When Any Stooped To Succor

Here,  She Fanned Her Neighbor With Her Apron,  Casting An Anxious Eye On

Her Own Silent Machine And Knowing She Was Losing "Time."

 

Susie Fainted Three Times That Morning,  And Katie Lost An Hour In All,

Bringing Water And Making A Fan Out Of A Newspaper. Also She Had An

Angry Altercation With The Foreman. He Said If Susie "Played Up" This

Way She'd Have To Quit; There Were Plenty Of Girls Waiting To Take Her

Place,  And He Hadn't Time To Fool With Kids That Wanted To Lie Around

And Be Fanned. It Was His Last Few Words As She Was Reviving That Stung

Susie To Life Again And Put Her Back At Her Machine For The Last Time In

Nervous Panic,  With The Thought Of What Would Happen At Home If She Lost

Her Job. Up Above Her The Great Heavy Machines Thrashed On And The Floor

Trembled With Their Movement. Black And Thick And Hot Was The Air Around

Susie And She Scarcely Could See,  For Dizziness,  The Machinery Which She

Worked From Habit,  As She Stood Swaying In Her Place,  And Wondering If

She Could Hold Out Till The Noon Whistle Blew.

 

Down In The Basement,  Near One Of The Elevator Shafts,  A Pile Of Waste

Lay Smoldering,  Out Of Sight. One Of The Boys From The Lumber-Yard Down

The Next Block Had Stopped To Light His Cigarette As He Passed Out Into

The Street After Bringing A Bill To The Head Manager. He Tossed His

Match Away,  Not Seeing Where It Fell. The Big Factory Thundered On In

Full Swing Of A Busy,  Driving Morning,  And The Little Match Lay Nursing

Its Flame And Smoldering.

 

How Long It Crept And Smoldered No One Knew. It Seemed To Come From

Every Floor At Once,  That Smell Of Smoke And Cry Of Fire! More Smoke In

Volumes Pouring Up Suddenly Through Cracks And Bursting From The

Elevator Shaft; A Lick Of Flame Darting Out Like A Serpent Ready To

Strike,  Menacing Against The Heat Of The Big Rooms.

 

Panic And Smoke And Fire! Cries And Clashing Of Machinery Thundering On

Like A Storm Above An Angry Sea!

 

The Girls Rushed Together In Fear,  Or,  Screaming,  Ran Desperately To

Windows Which They Knew They Could Not Raise! They Pounded At The Locked

Doors And Crowded In The Narrow Passages,  Frantically Surging This Way

And That. There Was No One To Quiet Them Or Tell Them What To Do. If

Some Oneion Of This Agreement Shall Not Void The Remaining Provisions.

 

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While We Cannot And Do Not Solicit Contributions From States Where We

Have Not Met The Solicitation Requirements,  Weontribuanybody_. There Is Probably Not

A Militarist In America To-Day Who,  However Bitterly Opposed To Disarmament

As A Present Policy,  Would Not Agree That If,  In Some Future Time,  Mankind

Reaches The Happy Condition Of Universal Socialism,  Disarmament Will Then

Become Practicable And Logical. It Would Not Be Difficult For General Wood

To Subscribe To That Doctrine,  I Think. It Would Not Have Been Difficult

For Mr. Roosevelt To Subscribe To It.

 

Not Only Is Lenine Willing To Support National Armaments,  And Even To Fight

For The Defense Of National Rights,  Whenever An Attack On These Is Also An

Attack On Proletarian Rights--Which He Believes To Be The Case In The

Continued War Against Germany,  He Goes Much Farther Than This _And Provides

A Theoretical Justification For A Socialist Policy Of Passive Acceptance Of

Ever-Increasing Militarism_. He Draws A Strangely Forced Parallel Between

The Socialist Attitude Toward The Trusts And The Attitude Which Ought To Be

Taken Toward Armaments. We Know,  He Argues,  That Trusts Bring Great Evils.

Against The Evils We Struggle,  But How? Not By Trying To Do Away With The

Trusts,  For We Regard The Trusts As Steps In Progress. We Must Go Onward,

Through The Trust System To Socialism. In A Similar Way We Should Not

Deplore "The Militarization Of The Populations." If The Bourgeoisie

Militarizes All The Men,  And All The Boys,  Nay,  Even All The Women,  Why--So

Much The Better! "Never Will The Women Of An Oppressed Class That Is Really

Revolutionary Be Content" To Demand Disarmament. On The Contrary,  They Will

Encourage Their Sons To Bear The Arms And "Learn Well The Business Of War."

Of Course,  This Knowledge They Will Use,  "Not In Order That They May Shoot

At Their Brothers,  The Workers Of Other Countries,  As They Are Doing In The

Present War ... But In Order That They May Struggle Against The Bourgeoisie

In Their Own Country,  In Order That They May Put An End To Exploitation,

Poverty,  And War,  Not By The Path Of Good-Natured Wishes,  But By The Path

Of Victory Over The Bourgeoisie And Of Disarmament Of The Bourgeoisie."[90]

 Universally The Working Class Has Taken A Position The

Very Opposite Of This. Universally We Find The Organized Working Class

Favoring Disarmament,  Peace Agreements,  And Covenants In General Opposing

Extensions Of What Lenine Describes As "The Militarization Of Populations."

For This Universality Of Attitude And Action There Can Only Be One Adequate

Explanation--Namely,  The Instinctive Class Consciousness Of The Workers.

But,  According To Lenine,  This Instinctive Class Consciousness Is All

Wrong; Somehow Or Other It Expresses Itself In A "Bourgeois" Policy. The

Workers Ought To Welcome The Efforts Of The Ruling Class To Militarize And

Train In The Arts Of War Not Only The Men Of The Nations,  But The Boys And

Even The Women As Well. Some Day,  If This Course Be Followed,  There Will Be

Two Great Armed Classes In Every Nation And Between These Will Occur The

Decisive War Which Shall Establish The Supremacy Of The Most Numerous And

Powerful Class. Socialism Is Thus To Be Won,  Not By The Conquests Of Reason

And Of Conscience,  But By Brute Force.

 

Obviously,  There Is No Point Of Sympathy Between This Brutal And Arrogant

Gospel Of Force And The Striving Of Modern Democracy For The Peaceful

Organization Of The World,  For Disarmament,  A League Of Nations,  And,  In

General,  The Supplanting Of Force Of Arms By The Force Of Reason And

Morality. There Is A Prussian Quality In Lenine's Philosophy. He Is The

Chapter 28 Pg 171

Treitschke Of Social Revolt,  Brutal,  Relentless,  And Unscrupulous,  Glorying

In Might,  Which Is,  For Him,  The Only Right. And That Is What Characterizes

The Whole Bolshevik Movement: It Is The Infusion Into The Class Strife And

Struggles Of The World The Same Brutality And The Same Faith That Might Is

Right Which Made Prussian Militarism The Menace It Was To Civilization.

 

And Just As The World Of Civilized Mankind Recognized Prussian Militarism

As Its Deadly Enemy,  To Be Overcome At All Costs,  So,  Too,  Bolshevi

Down To The City For Over Sunday. An Inexpressible Longing Filled Him To

See Tennelly Again,  Before His Marriage Completed The Wall That Was

Between Them. He Wanted To Have A Real Old-Fashioned Talk; To Look Into

The Soul Of His Friend And See The Old Loyalty Shining There. He Wanted

More Than All To Come Close To Him Once More,  And,  It Might Be,  Tell Him

About The Christ.

 

He Took Down His Road-Book,  Turned To The Map,  And Let His Finger Fall

On The Coast-Line About Midway Between The City And The Seminary.

Looking It Up In The Book,  He Found Shadow Beach Described As A Quiet

And Exclusive Resort With A Good Inn,  Excellent Service,  Fine

Sea-Bathing,  Etc. Well,  That Would Do As Well As Anywhere. He

Telegraphed Tennelly:

 

     Meet Me At Shadow Beach,  Howland's Inlet,  Elm Tree Inn,  This

     Evening.

 

                                                         Court.

 

It Was Dark When He Reached Elm Tree Inn. The Ocean Rolled,  A Long Black

Line Flecked With Faint Foam,  Along The Shore,  And Luminous With A

Coming Moon. Two Dim Figures,  Like Moving Shadows,  Went Down The Sand

Picked Out Against The Path Of The Moon. Save For Those All Was Lonely,

Up And Down. Courtland Shivered Slightly And Almost Wished He Had

Selected Some More Cheerful Spot For The Meeting. He Had Not Realized

How Desolate A Sea Can Be When It Is Growing Cold. Nevertheless,  It Was

Majestic. It Seemed Like Eternity In Its Limitless Stretch. The Lights

In Far Harbors Glinted Out In The Distance Down The Coast. Somehow The

Vast Emptiness Filled Him With Sadness. He Felt As If He Were Entering

Upon Anything But A Pleasant Reunion,  And Half Wished He Had Not Come.

 

Courtland Ran His Car Up To The Entrance And Sprang Out. He Was Glad To

Get Inside,  Where A Log Fire Was Crackling. The Warmth And The Light

Dispelled His Sadness. Things Began To Take On A Cheerful Aspect Again.

 

"I Suppose You Haven't Many Guests Left," He Said,  Pleasantly,  As He

Registered.

 

"Only Him,  Sir!" Said The Clerk,  Pointing To The Entry Just Above

Courtland's.

 

"James T. Aquilar And Wife,  Seattle,  Washington," Courtland Read,  Idly,

And Turned Away.

 

"They Been Here Two Days. Come In A Nerroplane!" Went On The Clerk,

Communicatively.

 

"Fly All The Way From Seattle?" Asked Courtland,  Idly. He Was Looking

At His Watch And Wondering If He Should Order Supper Or Wait Until

Tennelly Arrived.

 

"Well,  I Can't Say For Sure. He's Mighty Uncommunicative,  But He's Given

Out He Flies 'Most Anywhere The Notion Takes Him. He's Got His Machine

Out In The Lot Back O' The Inn. You Oughtta See It. It's A Bird!"

 

"H'm!" Said Courtland. "I Must Have A Look At It In Daylight. I'm

Looking For A Friend Up From The City Pretty Soon. Guess It Would Be

More Convenient For You If We Dined Together. I'll Wait A Bit. Meantime,

Let Me See What Rooms You Have."

 

When Courtland Came Back To The Office And Sat Down Before The Fire To

Wait,  The Spell Of Sadness Seemed To Have Vanished.

 

He Sat For Half An Hour,  With His Head Thrown Back In The Easy-Chair,

Watching The Flames,  Thinking Back Over Old College Memories That The

Thought Of Tennelly Made Vivid Again. In The Midst Of It He Heard Steps

On The Veranda. Some One From Outside Unlatched The Door And Flung It

Open. A Wild,  Careless Laugh Floated In On The Cold Breath Of The Sea.

Courtland Came To His Feet As If He Had Been Called! That Laugh Had Gone

Through His Heart Like A Knife,  With Its Heartless Baby-Like Mirth. It

Was Gila! Had Tennelly Played Him False,  After All,  And Brought Her

Along? Was This Some Kind Of A Ruse To Get Them Together? For He Knew

That Tennelly Was Distressed Over Their Alienation,  And That He

Understood To Some Extent That It Was On Account Of Gila That He Always

Avoided Accepting The Many Invitations Which Were Continually Pressed

Upon Him To Come Down To The City And Be With His Friends Once More.

 

The Door Swung Wide On Its Hinges And Gila Entered,  Trig And Chic As

Usual,  In A Stylish Little Coat-Suit Of Homespun,  Leather-Trimmed And

Short-Skirted,  High Boots,  Leather Leggings,  And A Jaunty Little

Leather Cap With A Bridle Under Her Chin. Only Her Petite Figure And Her

Baby Face Saved Her From Being Taken For A Tough Young Sport. She

Swaggered In,  Chewing Gum,  Her Gauntleted Hands In Her Pockets,  Her

Young Voice Flung Almost Coarsely Into The Room By The Wind; The

Innocent Look Gone From Her Face; The Eyes Wide And Bold; The Exquisite

Mouth In A Sensuous Curve.

 

Behind Her Lounged A Man Older Than Herself By Many Years,  With Silver

At His Temples,  Daredevil Eyes,  And A Handsome,  Voluptuous Face. He

Kicked The Door Shut Behind Him And Lolled Against It While He Lit A

Cigarette.

 

Gila's Laugh Rang Harshly In The Room Again,  Following Some Low-Toned

Remark,  And The Man Laughed Coarsely In Reply. Then,  Suddenly,  She

Looked Up And Saw Courtland Standing Sternly There With Folded Arms,

Regarding Her Steadily,  And Her Eyes Grew Wide With Horror.

 

Chapter 28 Pg 172

It Was Courtland's Great Disillusionment.

 

Never Had He Seen Such Fear In Human Face.

 

Gila's Skin Grew Gray Beneath Its Pearly Tint,  Her Whole Body Shrank And

Cringed,  Her Eyes Were Fixed Upon Him With Terror In Their Gaze.

 

"Papers Haven't Come In Yet,  Mr. Aquilar," Called The Clerk,  Affably.

"Train's Late To-Night. Be In Pretty Soon,  I Reckon!"

 

The Man Growled Out An Imprecation On A Place Where The Papers Didn't

Come Till That Hour In The Evening,  And Lounged On Toward The Elevator.

Gila Slid Along By His Side,  Her Eyes On Courtland,  With The Air Of

Hiding Behind Her Companion. Her Face Was Drooped,  And When She Turned

Toward The Elevator She Drooped Her Eyes Also,  And A Wave Of Shame

Rolled Up And Covered Her Face And Neck And Ears With A Dull Red

Beneath The Pearl. Her Last Glance At Courtland Was The Look That Eve

Must Have Had As She Walked Past The Flaming Swords,  With Adam,  Out Of

Eden. Her Eyes,  As She Stood Waiting For The Boy To Come To The

Elevator,  Seemed Fairly To Grovel On The Floor.

 

Was This The Sweet,  Wild,  Innocent Flower That Had Held Him In Its

Thrall All The Sorrowful Months,  And Separated Him From His Dearest

Friend?

 

Tennelly! Courtland Had Forgotten Until That Instant That Tennelly Would

Be There In A Few Minutes! Perhaps Was Even Then At The Door!

 

He Strode Forward,  And Gila Quivered As She Saw Him Coming; Quivered And

Looked Up In Terror,  Putting Out A Fearful Hand To The Arm Of Her

Companion.

 

The Elevator-Boy Had Arrived And Was Slamming Back The Steel Grating.

The Man Stood Back To Let Gila Enter,  And She Slunk Past Him,  Her Gaze

Still Held In Horror On Courtland.

 

"Will You Do Me The Favor To Step Into The Little Reception-Room To The

Right For A Moment?" Said Courtland,  Addressing The Man,  But Looking At

Gila.

 

"The Devil We Will!" Said The Man,  Glaring At Him. "What Right Have You

To Ask A Favor Like That?"

 

But Courtland Was Looking At Gila,  And There Was Command In His Eyes. As

If She Dared Not Disobey She Stepped Forth Again From The Elevator,  Her

Eyes Still Upon Him,  Her Face Gray With Apprehension. Without Further

Word From Him She Walked Before Him,  Slowly,  Into The Little Room At The

Right That He Indicated.

 

"You're A Fool!" Said Aquilar,  Regarding Her Contemptuously,  But She

Went As If She Did Not Hear Him. She Entered The Room,  Walked Half-Way

Across,  And Turned About,  Facing The Two Who Had Followed. Courtland Was

Within The Room,  Aquilar Lounging Idly In The Door,  As If The Matter

Chapter 28 Pg 173

Handsome Lips.

 

Courtland's Manner Was Grave And Sad. He Had The Commanding Presence And

Beauty Of An Avenging Angel.

 

"Gila,  Are You Married To This Man?" He Asked,  Looking Sternly At Her,

As Though He Would Search Her Very Soul.

 

Gila Kept Her Dark,  Horrified Gaze On His Face. She Was Beyond Trying To

Deceive Now. She Slowly Gave One Shake To Her Head,  And Her White Lips

Formed The Syllable,  "No!" Though It Was Almost Inaudible.

 

"And Yet You Are Registered Here In This Hotel As His Wife?"

 

Her Eyes Suddenly Flamed With Shame. She Drooped Them Before His Gaze

And Seemed To Try To Assent,  But Her Head Was Drooped Too Low To Bow.

She Lifted Miserable Pleading Looks To His Face Twice,  But Could Not

Stand The Clear Rebuke Of His Gaze. It Was Like The Whiteness Of The

Reproach Of God,  And Her Little Sinful Soul Could Not Bear It. She

Lifted A Handkerchief And Uttered Something Like A Sob. It Was As One

Might Think Would Be The Sound Of A Lost Soul Looking Back At What Might

Have Been.

 

"What The Devil Have You Got To Say About It? Who The Devil _Are_ You,

Anyway?" Roared The Man From The Doorway.

 

The Elevator-Boy And Clerk Were All Agog. The Latter Had Come Out Of His

Pen And Was Standing Behind The Boy,  On Tiptoe,  Where They Could Get A

Good View Of The Scene. The Room Was Tense With Stillness.

 

Aquilar's Voice Was Not One To Pass Unnoticed When He Spoke In Anger,

But Courtland Did Not Even Lift An Eyelid Toward Him.

 

Perhaps Aquilar's Words Had Given Gila Courage,  For She Suddenly Lifted

Her Eyes To Courtland's Face Again,  A Flash Of Vengeance In Them:

 

"I Suppose You Are Going To Tell Lew All About It?" She Flung Out,

Bitterly. "I Suppose You Will Make Up A Great Story To Go And Tell Lew.

But You Don't Suppose He Will Believe _You_ Against _Me_,  Do You?"

 

Her Eyes Were Flashing Fire Now. Her Old Imperious Manner Was Upon Her.

She Had Driven Him From Her Once! She Would Defeat Him Again!

 

He Watched Her Without A Change Of Countenance. "No,  I Shall Not Tell

Him," He Said,  Quietly; "But _You Will_!"

 

"I?" Gila Turned A Glance Of Contemptuous Amusement Upon Him. "Some

Chance! And I Warn You That If You Attempt To Tattle Anything About It I

Will Turn,  The Tables Against You In A Way You Little Suspect."

 

"Gila,  You Will Tell Lew Tennelly _Everything_,  Or You Will Never Marry

Him! It Is His Right To Know! And Now,  Sir"--Courtland Turned To

Aquilar,  Lounging Amusedly Against The Doorway--"If You Will Step

Outside I Will _Settle With You_!"

 

But Suddenly Gila Gave A Scream And Covered Her Face With Her Hands,  For

There,  Just Behind Aquilar,  Stood Tennelly,  Looking Like A Ghost. He Had

Heard It All!

 

Chapter 29 Pg 174

Tennelly Stepped Within The Room,  Gave One Keen,  Questioning Look At

Aquilar As He Passed Him,  Searching Straight Into The Depths Of His

Startled,  Shifty Eyes,  And Came And Stood Before The Crouching Girl. She

Had Dropped Into A Chair And Was Sobbing As If Her Heart Would Break.

 

"What Does This Mean,  Gila?"

 

Tennelly's Voice Was Cold And Stern.

 

Courtland Looked At His Shocked Face And Turned Away From The Pain Of

It. But When He Looked For The Man Who Had Wrought This Havoc He Had

Suddenly Melted From The Room! The Front Door Was Blowing Back And Forth

In The Wind,  And The Clerk And Bell-Boy Stood,  Open-Mouthed,  Staring.

Courtland Closed The Door Of The Reception-Room And Hurried Out On The

Veranda,  But Saw No Sign Of Any One In The Wind-Swept Darkness. The Moon

Had Risen Enough To Make A Bright Path Over The Sea,  But The Earth As

Yet Was Wrapped In Shadow.

 

Down In The Field,  Beyond The Outbuildings,  He Heard A Whirring Sound,

And As He Looked A Dark Thing Rose Like A Great Bird High Above His

Head. The Bird Had Flown While The Flying Was Good. The Lady Might Face

Her Difficulties Alone!

 

Courtland Stood Below In The Courtyard,  While The Moon Arose And Shed

Its Light Through The Sky,  And The Great Black Bird Executed An

Evolution Or Two And Whirred Off To The North,  Doubtless Headed For

Seattle Or Some Equally Inaccessible Point. A Great Helpless Wrath Was

Upon Him. Dolt That He Had Been To Let This Human Leper Escape From Him

Into The World Again! A Kind Of Divine Frenzy Seized Him To Capture Him

Yet And Put Him Where He Could Work No Further Harm To Other Willing

Victims. Yes,  He Thought Of Gila As A Willing Victim! An Hour Before He

Would Have Called Her Just Plain Innocent Victim. Now Something In Her

Face,  Her Attitude,  As She Saw Him And Walked Away With Her Guilty

Partner,  Had Made Him Know Her At Last For A Sinful Woman. The Shackles

Chapter 29 Pg 175

Had Burst From His Heart And He Was Free From Her Allurements For

Evermore! He Understood Now Why She Had Bade Him Choose Between Herself

And Christ. She Had No Part Nor Lot In Things Pure And Holy. She Hated

Holiness Because She Herself Was Sinful!

 

It Was Midnight Before Gila And Tennelly Came Forth,  Tennelly Grave And

Sad,  Gila Tear-Stained And Subdued.

 

Courtland Was Sitting In The Big Chair Before The Fireplace,  Though The

Fire Was Smoldering Low,  And The Elevator-Boy Had Long Ago Retired To

Slumbers On A Bench In A Hidden Alcove.

 

Tennelly Came Straight To Courtland,  As Though He Had Known He Would Be

Waiting There For Him. "I Am Going To Take Gila Down To Beechwood. You

Will Come With Us?" There Was Entreaty In The Tone,  Though It Was Very

Quiet.

 

"Shall I Take My Car?"

 

"No. You Will Ride With Me On The Front Seat. Is There A Maid Here That

I Can Hire To Go With Us? We Can Bring Her Back In The Morning."

 

"I'll Find Out."

 

That Was A Silent Ride Through The Late Moonlight. The Men Spoke Only

When It Was Necessary To Keep The Right Road. Gila,  Huddled Sullenly In

The Back Seat Beside A Dozing,  Gray-Haired Chambermaid,  Spoke Not At

All. And Who Shall Say What Were Her Thoughts As Hour After Hour She Sat

In Her Humiliation And Watched The Two Men Whom She Had Wronged So

Deeply? Perhaps Her Spirit Seethed The More Violently Within Her Silent,

Angry Body Because She Was Not Yet Sure Of Tennelly. Her Tears And

Explanations,  Her Pleading Little Story Of Deceit And Innocence,  Had Not

Wrought The Charm Upon Him That They Might Had Not Aquilar Been Known To

Him For The Past Two Weeks,  A Stranger Who Had Been Hanging About Gila,

And Who Had Been Encouraged Against Her Lover's Oft-Repeated Warnings. A

Certain Mysterious Story Of An Unfaithful Wife Put An Air Of Romance

About Him That Tennelly Had Not Liked. Gila Had Never Seen Him So

Serious And Hard To Coax As He Had Been To-Night. He Had Spoken To Her

As If She Were A Naughty Child; Had Commanded Her To Go At Once To Her

Aunt In Beechwood And Remain There The Allotted Time. She Simply _Had_

To Obey Or Lose Him. There Were Things About Tennelly's Fortune And

Prospects That Made Him Most Desirable As A Husband. Moreover,  She Felt

That Through Marrying Tennelly She Could The Better Hurt Courtland,  The

Man Whom She Now Hated With All Her Heart.

 

They Reached Beechwood At Not Too Unearthly An Hour. The Aunt Was

Surprised,  But Not Unduly So,  For Gila Was A Girl Of Many Whims,  And

That She Came At All To Quiet Beechwood To Rest Was Shock Enough For One

Day. She Asked No Troublesome Questions.

 

Tennelly Would Not Remain For Breakfast,  Even,  But Started On The Return

Trip At Once,  With Only A Brief Stop At A Wayside Inn For Something To

Eat. The Elderly Attendant In The Back Seat Was Disappointed. She Had

No Chance To Get A Bit Of Gossip By The Way With Any One,  But She Got

Chapter 29 Pg 176

Good Pay For The Night's Ride,  And Made Up Some Thrilling Stories To

Tell When She Got Back That Were Really Better Than The Truth Might Have

Turned Out To Be,  So There Was Nothing Lost,  After All.

 

It Was Tennelly Who Broke The Silence Between Them When He And Courtland

Were At Last Alone Together. "She Only Went For A Ride In His

Aeroplane," He Said,  Sadly. "She Had No Idea Of Staying More Than An

Afternoon. He Had Promised To Set Her Down At The Next Station To

Beechwood,  Where Her Aunt Was To Meet Her. She Was Filled With Horror

And Consternation When She Found She Must Be Away Overnight. But Even

Then She Had No Idea Of His Purpose. She Says That Nobody Ever Told Her

About Such Things,  She Was Ignorant As A Little Child! She Is Full Of

Repentance,  And Feels That This Will Be A Lesson For Her. She Says She

Intends To Devote Her Life To Me If I Will Only Forgive Her."

 

So That Was What She Had Told Tennelly Behind The Closed Doors!

 

Before Courtland's Eyes There Floated A Vision Of Gila As She First

Caught Sight Of Him In The Office Of The Inn. If Ever Soul Was Guilty In

Full Knowledge Of Her Sin She Had Been! Again She Passed Before His

Vision With Shamed Head Down-Drooped And All Her Proud,  Imperial Manner

Gone. The Mask Had Fallen From Gila Forever So Far As Courtland Was

Concerned. Not Even Her Little,  Pitiful,  Teary Face That Morning,  When

She Crept From The Car At Her Aunt's Door,  Could Deceive Him Again.

 

"And You _Believe_ All That?" Asked Courtland. He Could Not Help It. His

Dearest Friend Was In Peril. What Else Could He Do?

 

"I--Don't Know!" Said Tennelly,  Helplessly.

 

There Was Silence In The Room. Then Tennelly Did Realize A Little!

Perhaps Tennelly Had Known All Along,  Better Than He!

 

"And--You Will Forgive Her?"

 

"I _Must_!" Said Tennelly,  In Desperation. "Court,  My Life Is Bound Up

In Her!"

 

"So I Once Thought!" Courtland Was Only Musing Out Loud.

 

Tennelly Looked At Him Sadly.

 

"She Almost Wrecked My Soul!" Went On Courtland.

 

"I Know," Said Tennelly,  In Profound Sorrow. "She Told Me."

 

"She _Told You_?"

 

"Yes,  Before We Were Engaged. She Told Me That She Had Asked You To Give

Up Preaching,  That She Could Never Bear To Be A Minister's Wife. I Had

Begun To Realize What That Would Mean To You Then. I Respected Your

Choice. It Was Great Of You,  Court! But You Never Really Loved Her,  Man,

Or You Could Not Have Given Her Up!"

 

Courtland Was Silent For A Moment,  Then He Burst Out: "Nelly! It Was Not

That! You _Shall_ Know The Truth! She Asked Me To Give Up _My God_ For

Her!"

 

"_I Have No God_," Said Tennelly,  Dully.

 

A Great Yearning For His Friend Filled The Heart Of Courtland. "Listen,

Old Man,  You _Mustn't_ Marry Her!" He Burst Out Again. "I Believe She's

Rotten All The Way Through. You Didn't See And Hear All Last Night. She

_Can't Be_ True! She Hasn't It In Her! She Will Be False To You Whenever

She Takes The Whim! She Will Lead You Through Hell!"

 

"You Don't Understand. I Would _Go_ Through Hell To Be With Her!"

 

Tennelly's Words Rang Through The Room Like A Knell,  And Courtland Could

Say No More. There Was Silence In The Room. Courtland Watched His

Friend's Haggard Face Anxiously. There Were Deep Lines Of Agony About

His Mouth And Dark Circles Under His Eyes.

 

Suddenly Tennelly Lifted His Hand And Laid It On His Friend's. "Thanks,

Court. Thanks A Lot. I Appreciate It All More Than You Know. But This Is

My Job. I Guess I've Got To Undertake It! And,  _Man_! Can't You See I've

_Got_ To Believe Her?"

 

"I Suppose You Have,  Nelly. God Help You!"

 

When Courtland Got Back To The Seminary He Found A Letter From Mother

Marshall.

Chapter 30 Pg 177

Anticipation. Here At Least Would Be A Fresh,  Pure Breath Of Sweetness.

His Soul Was Worn And Troubled With The Experience Of The Past Two Days.

A Great Loneliness Possessed Him When He Thought Of Tennelly,  Or When He

Looked Forward To His Future,  For He Truly Was Convinced That He Never

Should Turn To The Love Of Woman Again; And So The Dreams Of Home And

Love And Little Children That Had Had Their Normal Part In His Thoughts

Of The Future Were Cut Out,  And The Days Stretched Forward In One Long

Round Of Duty.

 

     Dear Paul [It Began,  Familiarly]:

 

     This Is Stephen Marshall's Mother And I'm Calling You By

Chapter 30 Pg 178

     Your First Name Because It Seems To Bring My Boy Back Again

     To Be Writing So Familiar-Like To One Of His Comrades.

 

     We've Been Wondering,  Father And I,  Since You Said You

     Didn't Have Any Real Mother Of Your Own,  Whether You

     Mightn't Like To Come Home Christmas To Us For A Little

     While And Borrow Stephen's Mother. I've Got A Wonderful

     Hungering In My Heart To Hear A Little More About My Boy's

     Death. I Couldn't Have Borne It Just At First,  Because It

     Was All So Hard To Give Him Up,  And He Just Beginning To

     Live His Earthly Life. But Now Since I Can Realize Him Over

     By The Father,  I Would Like To Know It All. Bonnie Says That

     You Saw Stephen Go,  And I Thought Perhaps You Could Spare A

     Little Time To Run Out West And Tell Me.

 

     Of Course,  If You Are Busy And Have Other Plans You Mustn't

     Let This Bother You. I Can Wait Till Some Time When You Are

     Coming West And Can Stop Over For A Day. But If You Care To

     Come Home To Mother Marshall And Let Her Play You Are Her

     Boy For A Little While,  You Will Make Us All Very Happy.

 

When Courtland Had Finished Reading The Letter He Put His Head Down On

His Desk And Shed The First Tears His Eyes Had Known Since He Was A

Little Boy. To Have A Home And Mother-Heart Open To Him Like That In The

Midst Of All His Sorrow And Perplexity Fairly Unmanned Him. By And By He

Lifted Up His Head And Wrote A Hearty Acceptance Of The Invitation.

 

That Was In November.

 

In The Middle Of December Tennelly And Gila Were Married.

 

It Was Not Any Of Courtland's Choosing That He Was Best Man. He Shrank

Inexpressibly From Even Attending That Wedding. He Tried To Arrange For

His Western Trip So Early As To Avoid It. Not That He Had Any More

Personal Feeling About Gila,  But Because He Dreaded To See His Friend

Tied Up To Such A Future. It Seemed As If The Wedding Was Tennelly's

Funeral.

 

But Tennelly Had Driven Up To The Seminary On Three Successive Weeks And

Begged That Courtland Would Stand By Him.

 

"You're The Only One In The Wide World Who Knows All About It,  And

Understands,  Court," He Pleaded,  And Courtland,  Looking At His Friend's

Wistful Face,  Feeling,  As He Did,  That Tennelly Was Entering A Living

Purgatory,  Could Not Refuse Him.

 

It Did Not Please Gila To Have Him Take That Place In The Wedding Party.

He Knew Her Shame,  And She Could Not Trail Her Wedding Robes As

Guilelessly Before Him Now,  Nor Lift Her Imperious Little Head,  With Its

Crown Of Costly Blossoms,  Before The Envious World,  Without Realizing

That She Was But A Whited Sepulcher,  Her Little Rotten Heart All Death

Beneath The Spotless Robes. For She Was Keen Enough To Know That She Was

Defiled Forever In Courtland's Eyes. She Might Fool Tennelly By Pleading

Innocence And Deceit,  But Never Courtland. For His Eyes Had Pried Into

Chapter 30 Pg 179

Her Very Soul That Night He Had Discovered Her In Sin. She Had A Feeling

That He And His God Were In League Against Her. No,  Gila Did Not Want

Courtland To Be Tennelly's Best Man. But Tennelly Had Insisted. He Had

Given In About Almost Every Other Thing Under Heaven,  And Gila Had Had

Her Way,  But He Would Have Courtland For Best Man.

 

She Drooped Her Long Lashes Over Her Lovely Cheeks,  And Trailed Her

White Robes Up A Long Aisle Of White Lilies To The Steps Of The Altar;

But When She Lifted Her Miserable Eyes In Front Of The Altar She Could

Not Help Seeing The Face Of The Man Who Had Discovered Her Shame. It Was

A Case Of Her Little Naked,  Sinful Soul Walking In The Garden Again,

With The Voice And The Eyes Of A God Upon It.

 

Lovely! Composed! Charming! Exquisite! All These And More They Said She

Was As She Stood Before The White-Robed Priest And Went Through The

Ceremony,  Repeating,  Parrot-Like,  The Words: "I,  Gila,  Take Thee,

Llewellyn--" But In Her Heart Was Wrath And Hate,  And No More Repentance

Than A Fallen Angel Feels.

 

When At Last The Agony Was Over And The Bride And Groom Turned To Walk

Down The Aisle,  Gila Lifted Her Pretty Lips Charmingly To Tennelly For

His Kiss,  And Leaned Lovingly Upon His Arm,  Smiling Saucily At This One

And That As She Pranced Airily Out Into Her Future. Courtland,  Coming

Just Behind With The Maid Of Honor,  One Of Gila's Feather-Brained

Friends,  Lolling On His Arm,  Felt That He Ought To Be Inexpressibly

Thankful To God That He Was Only Best Man In This Procession,  And Not

Bridegroom.

 

When At Last The Bride And Groom Were Departed,  And Courtland Had Shaken

Off The Kind But Curious Attentions Of Bill Ward,  Who Persisted In

Thinking That Tennelly Had Cut Him Out With Gila,  He Turned To Pat And

Whispered,  Softly:

 

"For The Love Of Mike,  Pat,  Let's Beat It Before They Start Anything

Else!"

 

Pat,  Anxious And Troubled,  Heaved A Sigh Of Relief,  And Hustled His Old

Friend Out Under The Stars With Almost A Shout Of Joy. Nelly Was Caught

And Bound For A Season. Poor Old Nelly! But Court Was Free! Thank The

Lord!

 

Courtland Was Almost Glad That He Went Immediately Back To Hard Work

Again And Should Have Little Time To Think. The Past Few Days Had

Wearied Him Inexpressibly. He Had Come To Look On Life As A Passing

Show,  And To Feel Almost Too Utterly Left Out Of Any Pleasure In It.

 

It Was A Cold,  Snowy Night That Courtland Came Down To The City And Took

The Western Express For His Holiday.

 

There Was Snow,  Deep,  Vast,  Glistening,  When He Arrived At Sloan's

Station On The Second Morning,  But The Sun Was Out,  And Nothing Could Be

More Dazzling Than The Scene That Stretched On Every Side. They Had Come

Through A Blizzard And Left It Traveling Eastward At A Rapid Rate.

 

Courtland Was Surprised To Find Father Marshall Waiting For Him On The

Platform,  In A Great Buffalo-Skin Overcoat,  Beaver Cap,  And Gloves. He

Carried A Duplicate Coat Which He Offered To Courtland As Soon As The

Greetings Were Over.

 

"Here,  Put This On; You'll Need It," He Said,  Heartily,  Holding Out The

Coat. "It Was Steve's. I Guess It'll Fit You. Mother And Bonnie's Over

Here,  Waiting. They Couldn't Stand It Without Coming Along. I Guess You

Won't Mind The Ride,  Will You,  After Them Stuffy Cars? It's A Beauty

Day!"

 

And There Were Mother Marshall And Bonnie,  Swathed To The Chin In Rugs

And Shawls And Furs,  Looking Like Two Red-Cheeked Cherubs!

 

Bonnie Was Wearing A Soft Wool Cap And Scarf Of Knitted Gray And White.

Her Cheeks Glowed Like Roses; Her Eyes Were Two Stars For Brightness.

Her Gold Hair Rippled Out Beneath The Cap And Caught The Sunshine All

Around Her Face.

 

Courtland Stood Still And Gazed At Her In Wonder And Admiration. Was

This The Sad,  Pale Girl He Had Sent West To Save Her Life? Why,  She Was

A Beauty,  And She Looked As If She Had Never Been Ill In Her Life! He

Could Scarcely Bear To Take His Eyes From Her Face Long Enough To Get

Into The Front Seat With Father Marshall.

 

As For Mother Marshall,  Nothing Could Be More Satisfactory Than The Way

She Looked Like Her Picture,  With Those Calm,  Peaceful Eyes And That

Tendency To A Dimple In Her Cheek Where A Smile Would Naturally Come.

Apple-Cheeked,  Silver-Haired,  And Plump. She Was Just Ideal!

 

That Was A Gay Ride They Had,  All Talking And Laughing Excitedly In

Their Happiness At Being Together. It Was So Good To Mother Marshall To

See Another Pair Of Strong Young Shoulders There Beside Father On The

Front Seat Again!

 

It Was Mother Marshall Who Took Him Up To Stephen's Room Herself When

They Reached The Nice Old Rambling Farm-House Set In The Wide,  White,

Snowy Landscape. Father Marshall Had Taken The Car To The Barn,  And

Bonnie Was Hurrying The Dinner On The Table.

 

Courtland Entered The Room As If It Had Been A Sacred Place,  And Looked

Around On The Plain Comfort: The Home-Made Rugs,  The Fat,  Worsted

Pincushion,  The Quaint Old Pictures On The Walls,  The Bookcase With Its

Rows Of Books; The Big White Bed With Its Quilted Counterpane Of

Delicate Needlework,  The Neat Marble-Topped Washstand With Its Speckless

Appointments And Its Wealth Of Large Old-Fashioned Towels.

 

"It Isn't Very Fancy," Said Mother Marshall,  Deprecatingly. "We Fixed Up

Bonnie's Room As Modern As We Could When We Knew She Was Coming"--She

Waved An Indicating Hand Toward The Open Door Across The Hall,  Where The

Rosy Glow Of Pink Curtains And Cherry-Blossomed Wall Gave Forth A

Pleasant Sense Of Light And Joy--"And We Had Meant To Fix This All Over

For Steve The First Christmas When He Came Home,  As A Surprise; But Now

Chapter 30 Pg 180

You? It Is Fine Of You To Put Me In It. I Feel As If It Was Almost A

Desecration,  Because,  You See,  I Didn't Know Him Very Well; I Wasn't The

Friend To Him I Might Have Been. I Thought I Ought To Tell You That

Right At The Start. Perhaps You Wouldn't Want Me If You Knew All About

It."

 

"You Would Have Been His Friend If You Had Had A Chance To Know Him,"

Beamed The Brave Little Mother. "He Was A Reavements (The

Superior Schools Had Already Ceased To Function At This Time) As Well As

The Theatrical Artistes: A Talented Artist,  Silotti,  Was Arrested; He

Declared That Even In The Time Of Czarism Nobody Was Ever Uneasy On

Account Of His Political Opinions.

 

 

 

 

Iv

 

_The Bolsheviki And The Constituent Assembly_

 

 

 

 

At The Time Of The Accomplishment Of Their _Coup D'état_,  The Bolsheviki

Cried Aloud That The Ministry Of Kerensky Put Off A Long Time The

Convocation Of The Constituante (Which Was A Patent Lie),  That They Would

Never Call The Assembly,  And That They Alone,  The Bolsheviki,  Would Do It.

But According As The Results Of The Elections Became Known Their Opinions

Changed.

 

In The Beginning They Boasted Of Their Electoral Victories At Petrograd And

Moscow. Then They Kept Silent,  As If The Elections Had No Existence

Whatever. But The _Pravda_ And The _Izvestya_ Of The Soviet Of Workmen's

And Soldiers' Delegates Continued To Treat As Caluminators Those Who

Exposed The Danger That Was Threatening The Constituent Assembly At The

Hands Of The Bolsheviki. They Did Not Yet Dare To Assert Themselves Openly.

They Had To Gain Time To Strengthen Their Power. They Hastily Followed Up

Peace Pourparlers,  To Place Russia And The Constituent Assembly,  If This

Met,  Before An Accomplished Fact.

 

They Hastened To Attract The Peasants To Themselves. That Was The Reason

Which Motived The "Decree" Of Lenine On The Socialization Of The Soil,

Which Decree Appeared Immediately After The _Coup D'état_. This Decree Was

Simply A Reproduction Of A Revolutionary Socialists' Resolution Adopted At

A Peasants' Congress. What Could The Socialization Of The Soil Be To Lenine

And All The Bolsheviki In General? They Had Been,  But A Short Time Before,

Profoundly Indifferent With Regard To This Socialist-Revolutionist

"Utopia." It Had Been For Them An Object Of Raillery. But They Knew That

Without This "Utopia" They Would Have No Peasants. And They Threw Them

This Mouthful,  This "Decree," Which Astonished The Peasants. "Is It A Law?

Is It Not A Law? Nobody Knows," They Said.

 

It Is The Same Desire To Have,  Cost What It May,  The Sympathy Of The

Peasants That Explains The Union Of The Bolsheviki With Those Who Are

Called The "Socialist-Revolutionists Of The Left" (For The Name

Socialist-Revolutionist Spoke To The Heart Of The Peasant),  Who Played The

Stupid And Shameful Rôle Of Followers Of The Bolsheviki,  With A Blind

Weapon Between Their Hands.

 

A Part Of The "Peasants In Uniform" Followed The Bolsheviki To Smolny. The

Germans Honored The Bolsheviki By Continuing With Them The Pourparlers For

Peace. The Bolshevist Government Had At Its Disposal The Red Guards,  Well

Paid,  Created Suddenly In The Presence Of The Crumbling Of The Army For

Fear Of Remaining Without The Help Of Bayonets. These Red Guards,  Who Later

Fled In Shameful Fashion Before The German Patrols,  Advanced Into The

Interior Of The Country And Gained Victories Over The Unarmed Populace. The

Bolsheviki Felt The Ground Firm Under Their Feet And Threw Off The Mask. A

Campaign Against The Constituent Assembly Commenced. At First In _Pravda_

And In _Izvestya_ Were Only Questions. What Will This Constituent Assembly

Be? Of Whom Will It Be Composed? It Is Possible That It Will Have A

Majority Of Servants Of The Bourgeoisie--Cadets Socialist-Revolutionists.

_Can We Confide To Such A Constituent Assembly The Destinies Of The Russian

Revolution? Will It Recognize The Power Of The Soviets?_ Then Came Certain

Hypocritical "Ifs." "If," Yes,  "If" The Personnel Of The Constituent

Assembly Is Favorable To Us; "If" It Will Recognize The Power Of The

Soviets,  It Can Count On Their Support. _If Not--It Condemns Itself To

Death_.

 

The Socialist-Revolutionists Of The Left In Their Organ,  _The Flag Of

Labor_,  Repeated In The Wake Of The Bolsheviki,  "We Will Uphold The

Constituent Assembly In _The Measure We_--"

 

Afterward We See No Longer Questions Or Prudent "Ifs," But Distinct

Answers. "The Majority Of The Constituent Assembly Is Formed," Use Was Warm As A Pocket Without

It. They Colored And Strung Popcorn,  Gilded Walnuts,  Cut Silver-Paper

Stars And Chains For The Tree,  And Hung Strings Of Cranberries,

Bright-Red Apples,  And Oranges Between. They Trimmed The House From Top

To Bottom,  Even Twining Ground-Pine On The Stair Rail.

 

Those Were The Speediest Two Weeks That Courtland Ever Spent In His

Life. He Had Thought To Remain With The Marshalls Perhaps Three Or Four

Days,  But Instead Of That He Delayed Till The Very Last Train That Would

Get Him Back To The Seminary In Time For Work,  And Missed Two Classes At

That. For He Had Never Had A Comrade Like Bonnie; And He Knew

Chapter 30 Pg 181

First Day Almost,  That He Had Never Known A Love Like The Love That

Flamed Up In His Soul For This Sweet,  Strong-Spirited Girl. The Old

House Rang With Their Laughter From Morning To Night As They Chased Each

Other Up-Stairs And Down,  Like Two Children. Hours They Spent Taking

Long Tramps Through The Woods Or Over The Country Roads; More Hours They

Spent Reading Aloud To Each Other,  Or Rather,  Most Of The Time Bonnie

Reading And Courtland Devouring Her Lovely Face With His Eyes From

Behind A Sheltering Hand,  Watching Every Varying Expression,  Noting The

Straight,  Delicate Brows,  The Beautiful Eyes Filled With Holy Things As

They Lifted Now And Then In The Reading; Marveling Over The Sweetness Of

The Voice.

 

The Second Day Of His Visit Courtland Had Made An Errand With Bonnie To

Town To Send Off Several Telegrams. As A Result A Lot Of Things Arrived

For Him The Day Before Christmas,  Marked "Rush!" They Were Smuggled

Into The Parlor,  Behind The Christmas Tree,  With Great Secrecy After

Dark By Bonnie And Courtland; And Covered With The Buffalo Robes From

The Car Till Morning. There Was A Big Leather Chair With Air-Cushions

For Father Marshall; Its Mate In Lady's Size For Mother; A Set Of

Encyclopedias That He Had Heard Father Say He Wished He Had; A Lot Of

Silver Forks And Spoons For Mother,  Who Had Apologized For The Silver

Being Rubbed Off Of Some Of Hers. There Were Two Sets Of Books In

Wonderful Leather Bindings That He Had Heard Bonnie Say She Longed To

Read,  And There Was The Tiniest Little Gold Watch,  About Which He Had

Been In Terrible Doubt Ever Since He Had Sent For It. Suppose Bonnie

Should Think It Wrong To Accept It When She Had Known Him So Short A

Time! How Was He Going To Make Her See That It Was All Right? He

Couldn't Tell Her She Was A Sort Of A Sister Of His,  For He Didn't Want

Her For A Sister. He Puzzled Over That Question Whenever He Had Time,

Which Wasn't Often,  Because He Was So Busy And So Happy Every Minute.

 

Then There Were Great Five-Pound Boxes Of Chocolates,  Glaced Nuts And

Bonbons,  And A Crate Of Foreign Fruits,  With Nuts,  Raisins,  Figs,  And

Dates. There Was A Long,  Deep Box From The Nearest City Filled With The

Most Wonderful Hothouse Blossoms: Roses,  Lilies,  Sweet Peas,  Violets,

Gardenias,  And Even Orchids. Courtland Had Never Enjoyed Spending Money

So Much In All His Life. He Only Wished He Could Get Back To The City

For A Couple Of Hours And Buy A Lot More Things.

 

To Paint The Picture Of Mother Marshall When She Sat On Her New

Air-Cushions And Counted Her Spoons And Forks--Real Silver Forks Beyond

All Her Dreamings!--To Show Father Marshall,  As He Wiped His Spectacles

And Bent,  Beaming,  Over The Encyclopedias Or Rested His Gray Head Back

Against The Cushions! Ah! That Would Be The Work Of An Artist Who Could

Catch The Glory That Shines Deeper Than Faces And Reaches Souls! As For

Courtland,  He Was Too Much Taken Up Watching Bonnie's Face When She

Opened Her Books,  Looking Deep Into Her Eyes As She Looked Up From The

Little Velvet Case Where The Watch Ticked Softly Into Her Wondering

Ears; Seeing The Breathlessness With Which She Lifted The Flowers From

Their Bed Among The Ferns And Placed Them Reverently In Jars And

Pitchers Around The Room.

 

It Was A Wonderful Christmas! The First Real Christmas Courtland Had

Ever Known. Sitting In The Dim Firelight Between Dusk And Darkness,

Watching Bonnie At The Piano,  Listening To The Tender Christmas Music

She Was Playing,  Joining His Sweet Tenor In With Her Clear Soprano Now

And Then,  Courtland Suddenly Thought Of Tennelly,  Off At Palm Beach,

Doing The Correct Thing In Wedding Trips With Gila. Poor Tennelly! How

Little He Would Be Getting Of The Real Joy Of Christmas! How Little He

Would Understand The Wonderful Peace That Settled Down In The Heart Of

His Friend When,  Later,  They All Knelt In The Firelight,  And Father

Marshall Prayed,  As If He Were Talking To One Who Stood There Close

Beside Him,  Whose Companionship Had Been A Life Experience.

 

There Were So Many Pictures That Courtland Had To Carry Back With Him To

The Seminary. Bonnie In The Kitchen,  With A Long-Sleeved,  High-Necked

Gingham Apron On,  Frying Doughnuts Or Baking Waffles. Bonnie At The

Organ On Sunday In The Little Church In Town,  Or Sitting In A Corner Of

The Sunday-School Room Surrounded By Her Seventeen Boys,  With Her Bible

Open On Her Lap And In Her Face The Light Of Heaven While The Boys

Watched And Listened,  Too Intent To Know That They Were Doing It. Bonnie

Throwing Snowballs From Behind The Snow Fort He Built Her. Bonnie With

The Wonderful Mystery Upon Her When They Talked About The Little Watch

And Whether She Might Keep It. Bonnie In Her Window-Seat With One Of The

Books He Had Given Her,  The Morning He Started To Go Out With Father

Marshall And See What Was The Matter With The Automobile,  And Then Came

Back To His Room Unexpectedly After His Knife And Caught A Glimpse Of

Her Through The Open Door.

 

And That Last One On The Platform Of Sloan's Station,  Waving Him A

Smiling Good-By!

 

Courtland Had Torn Himself Away At Last,  With A Promise That He Would

Return The Minute His Work Was Over,  And With The Consolation That

Bonnie Was Going To Write To Him. They Had Arranged To Pursue A Course

Of Study Together. The Future Opened Up Rosily Before Him. How Was It

That Skies Had Ever Looked Dark,  That He Had Thought His Ideals

Vanished,  And Womanhood A Lost Art When The World Held This One Pearl Of

A Girl? Bonnie! Rose Bonnie!

 

Chapter 31 Pg 182

 

The Rest Of The Winter Sped Away Quickly. Courtland Was Very Happy. Pat

Looked At Him Enviously Sometimes,  Yet He Was Content To Have It So. His

Old Friend Had Not Quite So Much Time To Spend With Him,  But When He

Came For A Walk And A Talk It Was With A Heartiness That Satisfied. Pat

Had Long Ago Discovered That There Was A Girl At Stephen Marshall's Old

Home,  And He Sat Wisely Quiet And Rejoiced. What Kind Of A Girl He Could

Only Imagine From Courtland's Rapt Look When He Received A Letter,  And

From The Exquisite Photograph That Presently Took Its Place On

Courtland's Desk. He Hoped To Have Opportunity To Judge More Accurately

When The Summer Came,  For Mother Marshall Had Invited Pat To Come Out

With Courtland In The Spring And Spend A Week,  And Pat Was Going. Pat

Had Something To Confess To Mother Marshall.

 

Courtland Went Out Twice That Summer,  Once For A Week As Soon As His

Classes Were Over. It Was Then That Bonnie Promised To Marry Him.

 

Mother Marshall Had A Lot Of Sense And Took A Great Liking To Pat. One

Day She Took Him Up In Stephen's Room And Told Him All About Stephen's

Boyhood. Pat,  Great Big,  Baby Giant That He Was,  Knelt Down Beside Her

Chair,  Put His Face In Her Lap,  And Blurted Out The Tale Of How He Had

Led The Mob Against Stephen And Been Indirectly The Cause Of His Death.

 

Mother Marshall Heard Him Through With Tears Of Compassion Running Down

Her Cheeks. It Was Not Quite News To Her,  For Courtland Had Told Her

Something Of The Tale,  Without Any Names,  When He Had Confessed That He

Held The Garments Of Those Who Did The Persecuting.

 

"There,  There!" Said Mother Marshall,  Patting The Big Fellow's Dark

Head. "You Never Knew What You Were Doing,  Laddie! My Steve Always

Wanted A Chance To Prove That He Was Brave. When He Was Just A Little

Fellow And Read About The Martyrs,  He Used To Say: 'Would I Have That

Much Nerve,  Mother? A Fellow Never Can _Tell_ Till He's Been _Tested_!'

And So I'm Not Sorry He Had His Chance To Stand Up Before You All For

What He Thought Was Right. Did You See My Boy's Face,  Too,  When He

Died?"

 

"Yes," Said Pat,  Lifting His Head Earnestly. "I'd Just Picked Up A

Little Kid He Sent Up To The Fire-Escape,  And Saw His Face All Lit Up By

The Fire. It Looked Like The Face Of An Angel! Then I Saw Him Lift Up

His Hands And Look Up Like He Saw Somebody Above,  And He Called Out

Something With A Sort Of Smile,  As If He Was Saying He'd Be Up There

Pretty Soon! And Then--He Fell!"

 

The Tears Were Raining Down Mother Marshall's Cheeks By Now,  But There

Was A Smile Of Triumph In Her Eyes.

 

"He Wanted To Be A Missionary,  My Stephen Did,  Only He Was Afraid He

Wouldn't Be Able To Preach. He Always Was Shy Before Folks. But I Guess

He Preached His Sermon!" She Sighed Contentedly.

 

"He Sure Did!" Said Pat. "I Never Forgot That Look On His Face,  Nor The

Way He Took Our Roughneck Insults. None Of The Fellows Did. It Made A

Big Impression On Us All. And When Court Began To Change,  Came Out

Straight And Said He Believed In Christ,  And All That,  It Knocked The

Tar Out Of Us All. Stephen Hasn't Got Done Preaching Yet. You Ought To

Hear Court Tell The Story Of His Death. It Bowled Me Over When I Heard

It,  And Everywhere He Tells It Men Believe! Wherever Paul Courtland

Tells That Story Stephen Marshall Will Be Preaching."

Chapter 31 Pg 183

 

Mother Marshall Stooped Over And Kissed Pat's Astonished Forehead. "You

Have Made Me A Proud And Happy Mother To-Day,  Laddie! I'm Glad You

Came."

 

Pat,  Suddenly Conscious Of Himself,  Stumbled,  Blushing,  To His Feet.

"Thanks,  Mother! It's Been Great! Believe Me,  I Sha'n't Ever Forget It.

It's Been Like Looking Into Heaven For This Poor Bum. If I'd Had A Home

Like This I Might Have Stood Some Chance Of Being Like Your Steve,

Instead Of Just A Roughneck Athlete."

 

"Yes,  I Know," Smiled Mother Marshall. "A Dear,  Splendid Roughneck,

Doing A Big Work With The Boys! Paul Has Told Me All About It. You're

Preaching A Lot Of Sermons Yourself,  You Know,  And Going To Preach Some

More. Now Shall We Go Down? It's Time For Evening Prayers."

 

So Pat Put His Strong Arm Around Mother Marshall's Plump Waist,  Drew One

Of Her Hands In His,  And Together They Walked Down To The Parlor,  Where

Bonnie Was Already Playing "Rock Of Ages." It Seemed To Pat The Kingdom

Of Heaven Could Be No Sweeter,  For This Was The Kingdom Come On Earth.

When He And Courtland Were Up-Stairs In Their Room,  And All The House

Quiet For The Night,  Pat Spoke:

 

"I've Sized It Up This Way,  Court. There Ain't Any Dying! That's Only An

Imaginary Line Like The Equator On The Map. It's Heaven Or Hell,  Both

Now And Hereafter! We Can Begin Heaven Right Now If We Want To,  And Live

It On Through; And That's What These Folks Have Done. You Don't Hear

Them Sitting Here Fighting Like The Professors Used To Do,  About Whether

There's A Heaven Or A Hell! They Know There's Both. They're Living In

One And Pulling Folks Out Of The Other,  Hard As They Can; And They're

Too Blamed Busy,  Following Out The Bible And Seeing It Prove Itself,  To

Listen To All The Twaddle To Prove That It Ain't So! I Sure Am Darned

Glad You Gave Me The Tip And I Got A Chance To Get In On This Little Old

Game,  For It's The Best Game I Know,  And The Best Part About It Is It

Lasts Forever!"

 

Tennelly Was Away All That Summer,  Doing The Fashionable Summer Resorts

And Taking A California Trip. The Next Winter He Spent In Washington.

Uncle Ramsey Had Him At Work,  And Courtland Ran On Him In His Office

Once,  When He Took A Hurried Trip Down To See What He Could Do For The

Eight-Hour Bill. Tennelly Looked Grave And Sad. He Was Touchingly Glad

To See Courtland. They Did Not Speak Of Gila Once,  But When Courtland

Lay In His Sleepless Sleeper On The Return Trip That Night Tennelly's

Face Haunted Him,  The Wistfulness In It.

 

A Few Months Later Tennelly Wrote A Brief Note Announcing The Birth Of A

Daughter,  Named Doris Ramsey After His Grandmother. The Tone Of His

Letter Seemed More Cheerful.

 

E Of The

Peasants In The Constituent Assembly,  And In The Revolutionary Socialist

Party,  Whose Program They Had Long Since Adopted,  And Whose Leaders And

Ways Of Acting They Knew,  The Inhabitants Of The Country Proved Themselves

In All That Concerned The Elections Wide Awake To The Highest Degree. There

Were Hardly Any Abstentions,  _90 Per Cent. Of The Population Took Part In

The Voting_. The Day Of The Voting Was Kept As A Solemn Feast; The Priest

Said Mass; The Peasants Dressed In Their Sunday Clothes; They Believed That

The Constituent Assembly Would Give Them Order,  Laws,  The Land. In The

Government Of Saratov,  Out Of Fourteen Deputies Elected,  There Were Twelve

Socialist-Revolutionists; There Were Others (Such As The Government Of

Pensa,  For Example) That Elected _Only_ Socialist-Revolutionists. The

Bolsheviki Had The Majority Only In Petrograd And Moscow And In Certain

Units Of The Army. The Elections To The Constituent Assembly Were A

Decisive Victory For The Revolutionary Socialist Party.

 

Such Was The Response Of Russia To The Bolshevik _Coup D'état_. To Violence

And Conquest Of Power By Force Of Arms,  The Population Answered By The

Elections To The Constituent Assembly; The People Sent To This

Assembly,  Not The Bolsheviki,  But,  By An Overwhelming Majority,

Socialist-Revolutionists.

 

 

 

 

Vii

 

_The Fight Against The Bolsheviki_

 

 

 

 

But The Final Result Of The Elections Was Not Established Forthwith. In

Many Places The Elections Had To Be Postponed. The Bolshevik _Coup D'état_

Had Disorganized Life,  Had Upset Postal And Telegraphic Communications,  And

Had Even Destroyed,  In Certain Localities,  The Electoral Mechanism Itself

By The Arrest Of The Active Workers. The Elections Which Began In The

Middle Of November Were Not Concluded Till Toward The Month Of January.

 

In The Mean Time,  In The Country A Fierce Battle Was Raging Against The

Bolsheviki. It Was Not,  On The Part Of Their Adversaries,  A Fight For

Power. If The Socialist-Revolutionists Had Wished They Could Have Seized

The Power; To Do That They Had Only To Follow The Example Of Those Who Were

Called "The Revolutionary Socialists Of The Left." Not Only Did They Not

Follow Their Example,  But They Also Excluded Them From Their Midst. A Short

Time After The Bolshevik Insurrection,  When The Part Taken In This

Insurrection By Certain Revolutionary Socialists Of The Left Was Found Out,

The Central Committee Of The Revolutionary Socialist Party Voted To Exclude

Chapter 31 Pg 184

Adopted Tactics Contrary To Its Principles. This Exclusion Was Confirmed

Afterward By The Fourth Congress Of The Party,  Which Took Place In

December,  1917.

 

Soon After The _Coup D'état_ Of October The Question Was Among All Parties

And All Organizations: "What Is To Be Done? How Will The Situation Be

Remedied?" The Remedy Included Three Points. First,  Creation Of A Power

Composed Of The Representatives Of All Socialist Organizations,  With The

"Populist-Socialists" On The Extreme Right,  And With The Express Condition

That The Principal Actors In The Bolshevik _Coup D'état_ Would Not Have

Part In The Ministry. Second,  Immediate Establishment Of The Democratic

Liberties,  Which Were Trampled Under Foot By The Bolsheviki,  Without Which

Any Form Of Socialism Is Inconceivable. Third,  Convocation Without Delay Of

The Constituent Assembly.

 

Such Were The Conditions Proposed To The Bolsheviki In The Name Of Several

Socialist Parties (The Revolutionary Socialist Party,  The Mensheviki,  The

Populist-Socialists,  Etc.),  And Of Several Democratic Organizations

(Railroad Workers' Union,  Postal And Telegraphic Employees' Union,  Etc.).

The Bolsheviki,  At This Time,  Were Not Sure Of Being Able To Hold Their

Position; Certain Commissaries Of The People,  Soon After They Were

Installed In Power,  Handed In Their Resignation,  Being Terrified By The

Torrents Of Blood That Were Shed At Moscow And By The Cruelties Which

Accompanied The _Coup D'état_. The Bolsheviki Pretended To Accepte,

Pat,  You And I? Let's Cut That Sign Down First,  And Then,  Pat,  I'm Going

To Hunt Up A Stone-Cutter. This Church Has Got To Have A New Name.

'Church Of God For Sale' Has Killed This One! A Church That Used To

Belong To God And Doesn't Any More Is What That Means. They Have Sold

The Church Of God,  But His Presence Is Still Here!"

 

A Few Weeks Later,  When The Two Came Down To Look Things Over,  The

Granite Arch Over The Old Front Doors Bore The Inscription In Letters Of

Stone:

 

     Church Of The Presence Of God

 

Courtland Stood Looking For A Moment,  And Then He Turned To Pat Eagerly.

"I'm Going To Get Possession Of The Whole Block If I Can; Maybe The

Opposite One,  Too,  For A Park,  And You've Got To Be Physical Director!

I'll Turn The Kids And The Older Boys Over To You,  Old Man!"

 

Pat's Eyes Were Full Of Tears. He Had To Turn Away To Hide Them. "You're

A Darned Old Dreamer!" He Said,  In A Choking Voice.

 

So The Rejuvenation Of The Old Church Went On From Week To Week. The Men

At The Seminary Grew Curious As To What Took Pat And Courtland To The

City So Much. Was It A Girl? It Finally Got Around That Courtland Had A

Rich And Aristocratic Church In View,  And Was Soon To Be Married To The

Daughter Of One Of Its Prominent Members. But When They Began To

Congratulate Him,  Courtland Grinned.

 

"When I Preach My First Sermon You May All Come Down And See," He

Replied,  And That Was All They Could Get Out Of Him.

 

Courtland Found That A Lot Had To Be Done To That Church. Plaster Was

Falling Off In Places,  The Pews Were Getting Rickety. The Pulpit Needed

Doing Over,  And The Floor Had To Be Recarpeted. But It Was Wonderful

What A Difference It All Made When It Was Done. Soft Greens And Browns

Replaced The Faded Red. The Carpet Was Thick And Soft,  The Cushions

Matched. Bonnie Had Given Careful Suggestions About It All.

 

"You Could Have Got Along Without Cushions,  You Know," Said Pat,

Frugally,  As He Seated Himself In Appreciative Comfort.

 

"I Know," Said Courtland,  "But I Want This To Look Like A _Church_! Some

Day When We Get The Rest Of The Block And Can Tear Down The Buildings

And Have A Little Sunlight And Air,  We'll Have Some _Real Windows_ With

Wonderful Gospel Stories On Them,  But These Will Do For Now. There's Got

To Be A Pipe-Organ Some Day,  And Bonnie Will Play It!"

 

Pat Always Glowed When Courtland Spoke Of Bonnie. He Never Had Ceased To

Be Thankful That Courtland Escaped From Gila's Machinations. But That

Very Afternoon,  As Courtland Was Preparing To Hurry To The Train,  There

Came A Note From Pat,  Who Had Gone Ahead,  On An Errand:

 

     Dear Court,--Tennelly's In Trouble. He's Up At His

     Old Rooms. He Wants You. I'll Wait For You Down In The

     Office.

 

                                                   Pat.

 

 

Chapter 32 Pg 185

Tennelly Was Pacing Up And Down The Room. His Face Was White,  His Eyes

Were Wild. He Had The Haggard Look Of One Who Has Come Through A Long

Series Of Harrowing Experiences Up To The Supreme Torture Where There Is

Nothing Worse That Can Happen.

 

Courtland's Knock Brought Him At Once To The Door. With Both Hands They

Chapter 32 Pg 186

Gave The Fellowship Grip That Had Meant So Much To Each In College.

 

A Moment They Stood So,  Looking Into Each Other's Eyes,  Courtland,

Wondering,  Startled,  Questioning. It Was Gila,  Of Course! Nothing Else

Could Reach The Man's Soul And Make Him Look Like That! But What Had

Happened? Not Death! No,  Not Even Death Could Bring That Look Of Shame

And Degradation To His High-Minded Friend's Eyes.

 

As If Tennelly Had Read His Question He Spoke In A Voice So Husky With

Emotion That His Words Were Scarcely Audible: "Didn't Pat Tell You?"

 

Courtland Shook His Head.

 

Tennelly's Head Went Down,  As If He Were Waiting For Courage To Speak.

Then,  Huskily: "She's Gone,  Court!"

 

"Gone?"

 

"Left Me,  Court! She Sailed At Daybreak For Italy With Another Man."

 

Tennelly Fumbled In His Pocket And Brought Out A Crumpled Note,

Blistered With Tears. "Read It!" He Muttered,  And Turned Away To The

Window.

 

Courtland Read:

 

     Dear Lew,--I'm Sure When You Come To Your Senses

     And Get Over Some Of Your Narrow Ideas You'll Be As Much

     Relieved As I Am Over What I've Decided To Do. You And I

     Never Were Fitted For Each Other,  And I Can't Stand This

     Life Another Day. I'm Simply Perishing! It's Up To Me To Do

     Something,  For I Know,  With Your Strait-Laced Notions,  You

     Never Will! So When You Read This I Shall Be Out Of Reach,

     On My Way To Italy With Count Von Bremen. They Say There's

     Going To Be War In This Country,  Anyway,  And I Hate Such

     Things,  So I Had To Get Out Of It. You Won't Have Any

     Trouble In Getting A Divorce,  And You'll Soon Be Glad I Did

     It.

 

     As For The Kid,  If She Lives She's Much Better Off With You

     Than With Me,  For You Know I Never Could Stand Children;

     They Get On My Nerves. And,  Anyhow,  I Never Could Be All The

     Things You Tried To Make Me,  And It's Better In The End This

     Way. So Good-By,  And Don't Try To Come After Me. I Won't

     Come Back,  No Matter What You Do,  For I'm Bored To Death

     With The Last Two Years And I've Got To See Some Life!

 

                                                    Gila

 

Courtland Read The Flippant Little Note Twice Before He Trusted Himself

To Speak,  And Then He Walked Over To The Window,  Slowly Smoothing And

Folding The Crumpled Paper. A Baby's Cry In The Next Room Pierced The

Air,  And The Father Gripped The Window-Seat And Quivered As If A Bullet

Had Struck Him.

Chapter 32 Pg 187

 

Courtland Put His Hand Lovingly Within His Friend's Arm: "Nelly,  Old

Fellow," He Said,  "You Know That I Feel With You--"

 

"I Know,  Court!" With A Weary Sigh. "That's Why I Sent For You. I Had To

Have You,  Somehow!"

 

"Nelly! There Aren't Any Words Made Delicate Enough To Handle This Thing

Without Hurting. It's Raw Flesh And Full Of Nerves. There's Just One

Can Do Anything Here! I Wish You Believed In God!"

 

"I Do!" Said Tennelly,  In A Dreary Tone.

 

"He Can Come Near You And Give You Strength To Bear It. I Know,  For He

Did It For Me Once!"

 

Courtland Felt As If His Words Were Falling On Deaf Ears,  But Tennelly,

After A Pause,  Asked,  Bitterly:

 

"Why Did He Do This To Me,  If He's What You Say He Is?"

 

"I'm Not Sure That He Did,  Old Man! I Think Perhaps You And I Had A Hand

In It!"

 

Tennelly Looked At Him Keenly For An Instant And Turned Away,  Silent. "I

Know What You Mean," He Said. "You Told Me I'd Go Through Hell,  And I

Have. I Knew It In A Way Myself,  But I'm Afraid I'd Do It Again! I Loved

Her! God! I'm Afraid--I _Love Her Yet_! Man! You Don't Know What An Ache

Such Love Is."

 

"Yes,  I Do," Said Courtland,  With A Sudden Light In His Face,  But

Tennelly Was Not Heeding Him.

 

"It Isn't Entirely That I've Lost Her; That I've Got To Give Up Hoping

That She'll Some Time Care And Settle Down To Knowing She Is Gone

Forever! It's The Way She Went! The--The--The _Disgrace_! The

Humiliation! The Awfulness Of The Way She Went! We've Never Had Anything

Like That In Our Family. And To Think My Baby Has Got To Grow Up To Know

That Shame! To Know That Her Mother Was A Disgraceful Woman! That I Gave

Her A Mother Like That!"

 

"Now,  Look Here,  Tennelly! You Didn't Know! You Thought She Would Be All

Right When You Were Married!"

 

"But I _Did Know_!" Wailed Tennelly. "I Knew In My Soul! I Think I Knew

When I First Saw Her,  And That Was Why I Worried About You When You Used

To Go And See Her. I Knew She Wasn't The Woman For You. But,  Blamed Fool

That I Was! I Thought I Was More Of A Man Of The World,  And Would Be

Able To Hold Her! No,  I Didn't,  Either,  For I Knew It Was Like Trying To

Enjoy A Sound Sleep In A Powder-Magazine With A Pocketful Of Matches,  To

Trust My Love To Her! But I Did It,  Anyway! I Dared Trouble! And My

Little Child Has Got To Suffer For It!"

 

Chapter 32 Pg 188

"Your Little Child Will Perhaps Be Better For It!"

 

"I Can't See It That Way!"

 

"You Don't Have To. If God Does,  Isn't That Enough?"

 

"I Don't Know! I Can't See God Now; It's Too Dark!" Tennelly Put His

Forehead Against The Window-Pane And Groaned.

 

"But You Have Your Little Child," Said Courtland,  Hesitating. "Isn't

That Something To Help?"

 

"She Breaks My Heart," Said The Father. "To Think Of Her Worse Than

Motherless! That Little Bit Of A Helpless Thing! And It's My Fault That

She's Here With A Future Of Shame!"

 

"Nothing Of The Sort! It'll Be Your Fault If She Has A Future Of Shame,

But It's Up To You. Her Mother's Shame Can't Hurt Her If You Bring Her

Up Right. It's Your Job,  And You Can Get A Lot Of Comfort Out Of It If

You Try!"

 

"I Don't See How," Dully.

 

"Listen,  Tennelly. Does She Look Like Her Mother?"

 

Tennelly's Sensitive Face Quivered With Pain. "Yes," He Said,  Huskily.

"I'll Send For Her And You Can See." He Rang A Bell. "I Brought Her And

The Nurse Up To Town With Me This Morning."

 

An Elderly,  Kind-Faced Woman Brought The Baby In,  Laid It In A Big Chair

Where They Could See It,  And Then Withdrew.

 

Courtland Drew Near,  Half Shyly,  And Looked In Startled Wonder. The Baby

Was Strikingly Like Gila,  With All Her Grace,  Delicate Features,  Wide

Innocent Eyes. The Sweep Of The Long Lashes On The Little White Cheeks,

That Were All Too White For Baby Flesh,  Seemed Old And Weird In The Tiny

Face. Yet When The Baby Looked Up And Recognized Its Father It Crowed

And Smiled,  And The Smile Was Wide And Frank And Lovable,  Like

Tennelly's. There Was Nothing Artificial About It. Courtland Drew A Long

Sigh Of Relief. For The Moment He Had Been Looking At The Baby As If It

Were Gila Grown Small Again; Now He Suddenly Realized It Was A New

Little Soul With A Life And A Spirit Of Its Own.

 

"She Will Be A Blessing To You,  Nelly," He Said,  Looking Up Hopefully.

 

"I Don't See It That Way!" Said The Hopeless Father,  Shaking His Head.

 

"Would You Rather Have Her--Taken Away--As Her Mother Suggested?" He

Hazarded,  Suddenly.

 

Tennelly Gave Him One Quick,  Startled Look. "God! No!" He Said,  And

Staggered Back Into A Chair. "Do You Think She Looks So Sick As That? I

Know She's Not Well. I Know She's Lost Flesh! But She's Been Neglected.

Gila Never Cared For Her And Wouldn't Be Bothered Looking After Things.

Chapter 32 Pg 189

She Was Angry Because The Baby Came At All. She Resented Motherhood

Because It Put A Limitation On Her Pleasures. My Poor Little Girl!"

 

Tennelly Dropped Upon His Knees Beside The Baby And Buried His Face In

Its Soft Little Neck.

 

The Baby Swept Its Dark Lashes Down With The Old Gila Trick,  And Looked

With A Puzzled Frown At The Dark Head So Close To Her Face. Then She Put

Up Her Little Hand And Moved It Over Her Father's Hair With An Awkward

Attempt At Comfort. The Great Big Being With His Head In Her Neck Was In

Trouble,  And She Was Vaguely Sympathetic.

 

A Wave Of Pity Swept Over Courtland. He Dropped Upon His Knees Beside

His Friend And Spoke Aloud:

 

"O Lord God,  Come Near And Let My Friend Feel Thy Presence Now In His

Terrible Distress. Somehow Speak Peace To His Soul And Help Him To Know

Thee,  For Thou Art The Only One That Can Help Him. Help Him To Tell Thee

All His Heart's Bitterness Now,  Alone With Thee And His Little Child,

And Find Relief."

 

Softly Courtland Arose And Slipped From The Room,  Leaving Them Alone

With The Presence.

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

Gila Had Been Gone Two Months When The Day Was Finally Set For Bonnie's

Wedding.

 

There Had Been Consultations Long And Many Over What To Do About Telling

Tennelly,  For Even Bonnie Saw That The Event Could Not But Be Painful To

Him,  Coming As It Did On The Heels Of His Own Deep Trouble. And Tennelly

Had Long Been Courtland's Best Friend; At Least Until Pat Grew So Close

As To Share That Privilege With Him. It Was Finally Decided That

Courtland Should Tell Tennelly About The Approaching Wedding At His

First Opportunity.

 

Bonnie Had Long Ago Heard All About Gila,  Been Through The Bitter Throes

Of Jealousy,  And Come Out Clear And Trusting,  With The Whole Thing

Sanely And Happily Relegated To That Place Where All Such Troubles Go

From The Hearts Of Those Who Truly Love Each Other And Know There Never

Could Be Any One Else In The Universe Who Could Take The Place Of The

Beloved.

 

Courtland Had Been Preaching In The Church Of The Presence Of God For

Four Sabbaths Now,  And The Congregation Had Been Growing Steadily. There

Had Not Been Much Advertising. He Had Told A Few Friends In The

Factories Near By That There Was To Be Service. He Had Put Up A Notice

On The Door Saying That The Church Would Be Open For Worship Regularly

And Every One Was Welcome. He Did Not Wish To Force Anything. He Was

Following The Leading Of The Spirit. If God Really Meant This Work For

Him,  He Would Show Him.

 

Courtland's Preaching Was Not Of The Usual Cut-And-Dried Order Of The

Chapter 32 Pg 190

Young Theologue. His Theology Had Been Studied To Help Him To Understand

His God And His Bible,  Not To Give Him A Set Of Rules For Preaching. So

When He Stood Up In The Pulpit It Was Not To Follow Any Conventional

Order Of Service,  Or To Try To Imitate The Great Preachers He Had Heard,

But To Give The People Who Came Something That Would Help Them To Live

During The Week And Enable Them To Realize The Presence Of Christ In

Their Daily Lives.

 

The Men At The Seminary Got Wind Of It Somehow,  And Came Down By Twos

And Threes,  And Finally Dozens,  As They Could Get Away From Their Own

Preaching,  To See What The Dickens That Close-Mouthed Courtland Was

Doing,  And Went Away Thoughtful. It Was Not What They Had Expected Of

Their Brilliant Classmate,  Ministering To These Common Working-People

Right In The Neighborhood Where They Lived And Worked.

 

At First They Did Not Understand How He Came To Be In That Church,  And

Asked What Denomination It Was,  Anyway. Courtland Said He Really Didn't

Know What It Had Been,  But That He Hoped It Was The Denomination Of

Jesus Christ Now.

 

"But Whose Church Is It?" They Asked.

 

"Mine," He Said,  Simply.

 

Then They Turned To Pat For Explanation.

 

"That's Straight," Said Pat. "He Bought It."

 

"_Bought_ It! Oh!" They Were Silenced. Not One Of Them Could Have Bought

A Church,  And Wouldn't Have If They Could. They Would Have Bought A Good

Mansion For Themselves Against Their Retiring-Day. Few Of Them

Understood It. Only The Man Who Was Going To Darkest Africa To Work In

The Jungles,  And A Couple Who Were Bound,  One For The Leper Country,

And Another For China,  Had A Light Of Understanding In Their Eyes,  And

Gripped Courtland's Hand With Reverence And Ecstatic Awe.

 

"But,  Man Alive!" Lingered One,  Unwilling To Leave His Brilliant Friend

In Such A Hopeless Hole. "Don't You Realize If You Don't Hitch On To

Some Denomination,  Or Board Of Trustees,  Or Something,  Your Work Won't

Count In The Long Run? Who's To Carry On Your Work And Keep Up Your Name

And What You Have Done,  After You Are Gone? You're Foolish!" He Had Just

Received A Flattering Call To A City Church Himself,  And He Knew He Was

Not Half So Well Fitted For It As Courtland.

 

But Courtland Flung Up His Hat In A Boyish Way And Laughed. "I Should

Worry About My Name After I Am Gone," He Said. "And As For The Work,

It's For Me To Do,  Isn't It? Not For Me To Arrange For After I'm Dead.

If My Heavenly Father Wants It To Keep Up After I'm Gone He'll Manage To

Find A Way,  Won't He? My Job Is To Look After It While I'm Here. Perhaps

It Won't Be Needed Any Longer After I'm Gone. God Sent Me Here To Buy

His Church When It Was For Sale,  Didn't He? Well,  Then,  If It Is For

Sale Again He'll Find Somebody Else To Buy It,  Unless He Is Done With

It. The New Jerusalem May Be Here By That Time And We Won't Have To Have

Any Churches. God Himself Shall Be The Tabernacle! So You See I'm Just

Chapter 32 Pg 191

Have Money Enough To Keep The Wheels Moving."

 

They Went Away Then With Doubtful Looks,  And Courtland Heard One Say To

Another,  Shaking His Head In A Dubious Way:

 

"I Don't Like It. It's All Very Irregular!"

 

And The Other Replied: "Yes! It's A Pity About Him! He Might Have Done

Something Big If He Hadn't Been So Impractical!"

 

"The Poor Stews!" Said Pat,  Dryly,  Looking After Them. "They Haven't Got

Religion Enough To Carry Them Over Till Next Week,  The Most Of Them,  And

What They'll Do When They Really See What Kind The Lord Is I Can't

Guess! I Wonder What They Think That Rich Young Man That Jesus Loved

Would Have Been Like,  Anyway,  If He Hadn't Gone Away Sorrowful And Kept

His Vast Possessions. Cut It Out,  Pat! You're Letting The Devil In Again

And Getting Censorious! Just Shut Your Mouth And Saw Wood! They'll Find

Out Some Little Old Day In The Morning,  I Guess."

 

Courtland Wrote It All To Bonnie,  All The Happenings At Seminary And

Church,  What The Theologues Had Said About His Being Impractical And

Irregular,  And Bonnie,  With A Tender Smile,  Leaned Down And Kissed The

Words In The Letter,  And Murmured,  "Dear Impractical Beloved!" All

Softly To Herself.

 

For Bonnie Was Very Happy. The Possession Of Great Wealth That Would

Have To Be Spent In The Usual Way,  Surrounded By Social Distinction,

Attended By Functions And Society Duties,  Would Have Been An

Inexpressible Burden To Her. But Money To Be Used Without Limit In

Helping Other People Was A Miracle Of Joy. To Think That It Should Have

Come To Her!

 

Yet There Was Something Greater Than The Money And The New Interests

That Were Opening Up Before Her,  And That Was The Wonder Of The Man Who

Had Chosen Her To Be His Wife. That Such A Prince Among Men,  Such A

Friend Of God,  Should Have Passed By Others Of Rank,  Of Beauty And

Attainments Far Greater Than Hers,  And Come Away Out West To Take Her,

Fairly Overwhelmed Her With Wonder When She Had Time To Think About It.

For She Was As Busy As She Was Happy In These Days. There Was Her

School Work,  Her Music,  The Little Home Duties,  All She Could Make

Mother Marshall Leave For Her; The Beautiful Sewing She Was Doing On Her

Simple Bridal Garments; And Stealing Time From All To Write The Most

Wonderful Letters To The Insatiable Lover In The East.

 

Softly Bonnie Went Through These Days,  Tender,  Happy,  Blithe As A Bird;

A Song On Her Lips Whenever She Went About The House; A Caress In Her

Very Touch For The Dear Old People Who Had Been Father And Mother To Her

In Her Loneliness; Realizing Only Vaguely What It Was Going To Be To

Them When She Was Gone And They Were All Alone Again. For Her Heart Was

So Full Of Her Own Joy She Could Not Think A Sad Thought.

 

Chapter 32 Pg 192

Opening The Door Very Softly That She Might Come On Mother Marshall And

Surprise Her,  She Heard Voices In The Dining-Room,  And Paused To See If

There Was Company.

 

"It's Going To Be Mighty Hard To Have Bonnie Leave Us," Said Father

Marshall,  With A Wistful Quaver.

 

There Was A Soft Sigh Over By The Window,  Then Mother Marshall: "Yes,

Father,  But We Mustn't Think About It,  Or The Next Thing We Know We'll

Let Her See It. She's The Kind Of Girl That Would Turn Around And Say

She Couldn't Get Married,  Perhaps,  If She Got It In Her Head We Needed

Her. She's Got A Grand Man,  And I'm Just As Glad As I Can Be About

It"--There Was A Gulp Like A Sob Over By The Window.--"I Wouldn't Spoil

Her Happiness For Anything In The World!" The Voice Took On A Forced

Cheerfulness.

 

"Sure! We Wouldn't Want To Do That!"

 

"It's 'Most As Bad As When Stephen Was Going Away,  Though. I Have To

Just Shut My Eyes When I Go By Her Bedroom Door And Think About How We

Fixed It Up For Her And Counted On How She'd Look,  And All. I Just

Couldn't Stand It. I Had To Shut The Door And Hurry Down-Stairs."

 

"Well,  Now,  Mother,  You Mustn't Feel That Way. You Know The Lord Sent

Her First. Maybe He Has Some Other Plan."

 

"Oh,  I Know!" Said Mother,  Briskly. "I Guess We Can Leave That To Him;

Only Seems Like I Can't Bear To Think Of Anybody Else Coming To Be In

Her Room."

 

Yes,  From Paul! A Lovely,  Big,  Thick Letter!

 

Mother And Father Marshall And Their Sadness Suddenly Vanished From Her

Thoughts,  And She Hurried Back To A Big Stump In The Orchard,  Where She

Often Read Her Letters.

 

 

 

Chapter 34 Pg 194

     That You Must Have The Key To Them All Yet,  And I Must Wait

     Till You Come,  To Look Into Them.

 

     Then I Heard Sweet Sounds From The Church,  And,  Turning,  I

     Went In. Some One Was Playing The Organ,  High Up In The

     Dusky Shadows Of The Gallery,  And I Knew It Was You,  Bonnie

     Rose,  My Darling! So I Knelt In A Pew And Listened,  With The

     Presence Standing There Between Us. And As I Knelt Another

     Vision Came To Me,  A Vision Of The Past! I Remembered The

     Days When I Did Not Know God; When I Sneered And Argued And

     Did All I Could In My Young And Conceited Way Against Him. I

     Remembered,  Too,  The Time He Came To Me In My Illness And I

     Began To Believe; And The Day I Read That Verse Marked In

     Stephen's Bible,  "He That Believeth On The Son Of God Hath

     The Witness In Himself." I Suddenly Realized That That Had

     Been Made True To Me. I Have The Witness In My Own Heart

     That Christ Is The Son Of God,  My Saviour! That His Presence

     Is On Earth And Manifest To Me At Many Times. No Seeming

     Variance Of Science,  No Quibble Of The Intellect,  Can Ever

     Disturb This Faith On Which My Soul Rests. It Is More Than A

     Conviction; It Is A Perfect Satisfaction! I Know! I

     May Not Be Able To Explain All Mysteries,  But I Can Never

     Doubt Again,  Because I Know. The More I Meet With Modern

     Skepticism,  The More I Am Convinced That That Is The Only

     Answer To It All: "He That Doeth His Will Shall Know Of The

     Doctrine," And That Promise Is Fulfilled To All Who Have The

     Will To Believe.

 

     All This Came To Me Quite Clearly As I Knelt In The Church

     In The Sunset,  While You Were Playing--Was It "Rock Of

     Ages"?--And A Ray Of The Setting Sun Stole Through The Old

     Yellow Glass Of The Window In The Organ-Loft And Lay On Your

     Hair Like A Crown,  My Bonnie Darling! My Heart Overflowed

     With Gratitude At The Great Way Life Has Opened Up To Me.

     That I,  The Least Of His Servants,  Should Be Honored By The

     Love Of This Pearl Of Women!--

 

There Was More Of That Letter,  And Bonnie Sat Long On The Stump Reading

And Re-Reading,  With Her Face A Glow Of Wonder And Joy. But At Last She

Got Up And Went To The House,  Bounding Into The Dining-Room Where Mother

And Father Marshall Were Pretending To Be Busy About A Lamp That Didn't

Work Right.

 

Down She Sat With Her Letter And Read It--At Least As Much As We Have

Read--To The Two Sad Old Dears Who Were Trying So Hard To Get Ready For

Loneliness. But After That There Was No More Sadness In That House! No

More Tears Nor Wistful Looks. Father Whistled Everywhere He Went,  Till

Mother Told Him He Was Like A Boy Again. Mother Sang About Her Work

Whenever She Was Alone. For Why Should They Be Sad Any More? There Were

Good Times Still Going In The World,  And _They Were In Them_!

 

"Father!" Whispered Mother,  Softly,  That Night,  When She Was Supposed To

Be Well On Her Way Toward Slumber. "Do You Suppose The Lord Heard Us

Grumbling This Afternoon,  And Sent That Letter To Make Us Ashamed Of

Ourselves?"

 

"No," Said Father,  Tenderly,  "I Think He Just Smiled To Think What A Big

Surprise He Had Ready For Us. It Doesn't Pay To Doubt God; It Really

Doesn't!"

 

 

Chapter 35 Pg 195

The Hospital Down To The Station And Shipping Him Home To His Good Old

Mother In The Country,  To Be Nursed Back To Health. Pat Often Did Little

Things Like That That Were Utterly Out Of His Province,  Just Because He

Liked To Do Them.

 

Pat Had Seen His Patient Off And Was Threading His Way Through A Crowded

Thoroughfare,  With Eyes Alert For Everything,  When A Little Bright-Red

Racer Passed Him At A Furious Rate,  Driven By A Woman With A Reckless

Hand. She Shot By The Ambulance Like A Rocket,  And At The Next Corner

Came Face To Face With A Great Motor-Truck That Was Thundering Around

The Corner At A Tempestuous Speed. From The First Glance There Was No

Chance For The Racer. It Crumpled Like A Thing Of Paper And Lay In

Bright Splinters On The Street,  The Lady Tossed Aside And Motionless,

With Her Head Against The Curbing.

 

The Crowd Closed In About Her,  And Some One Sent A Call For The Police.

The Crowd Opened Again As An Officer Signed To The Ambulance To Stand

By,  And Kindly Hands Put The Lady Inside. Pat Put On All Speed To The

Home Hospital,  Which Was Not Far Away,  And Was Soon Within Its Gates,

With The House Doctor And A Nurse Rushing Out In Answer To His Signal.

 

There Was A Light In The Church Close At Hand,  Although It Was Not Yet

Dark. Bonnie Was Playing Softly On The Organ. Pat Knew The Hymn She Was

Playing:

 

     At Evening,  Ere The Sun Was Set,

       The Sick,  O Lord! Around Thee Lay;

     Oh,  With What Divers Ills They Met,

       Oh,  With What Joy They Went Away!

 

     Once More 'Tis Eventide,  And We,

       Oppressed With Various Ills,  Draw Near--

Chapter 35 Pg 196

Jumped Down From His Driver's Seat And Went Around To The Back Of The

Ambulance,  Where They Were Preparing To Carry The Patient Into The

Building. He Was Wondering What Sort It Was This Time That He Had

Brought To The House Of Healing. Then Suddenly He Saw Her Face And

Stopped Short,  With A Suppressed Exclamation.

 

There,  Huddled On The Stretcher,  In Her Costly Sporting Garments,  With

Her Long,  Dark Lashes Sweeping Over Her Hard,  Little Painted Face,  And A

Pinched Look Of Suffering About Her Loose-Hung Baby Mouth,  Lay Gila!

 

He Knew Her At Once And Drew Back In Horror. What Had He Done! Brought

Her Here,  This Viper Of Evil That Had Crept Into The Garden Of His

Friends And Despoiled Them Of Their Joy! Why Had He Not Looked At Her

Before They Started? Fool That He Was! He Might Easily Have Taken Her To

Another Hospital Instead Of This One. He Could Do So Yet.

 

But Courtland Was Standing On The Steps,  Looking Down At The Huddled

Figure On The Stretcher,  With A Strange Expression Of Pity And

Tenderness In His Face.

 

"I Did Not Know! I Did Not See Her Before,  Court!" Stammered Pat. "I

Will Take Her Somewhere Else Now Before She Has Been Disturbed."

 

"No,  Pat,  It's All Right! It Is Fitting That She Should Come To Us. I'm

Glad You Found Her. You Must Have Been Led! Call Bonnie,  Please. And,

Pat,  Watch For Nelly And Take Him Into My Study. He Was Coming Down On

The Boston Express. Let Me Know As Soon As He Gets Here."

 

Courtland Went Swiftly Into The Hospital. Pat Looked After Him For A

Moment With A Great Light Of Love In His Eyes,  And Realized For The

First Time What Was Meant By The Expulsive Power Of A New Affection.

Court Hadn't Minded Seeing Gila In The Least On His Own Account. He Was

Only Thinking Of Tennelly. Poor Nelly! What Would He Do?

 

There Was No Hope For Gila From The First. There Had Been An Injury To

The Spine,  And It Was Only A Question Of Hours How Long She Had To Stay.

 

It Was Bonnie's Face Upon Which The Great Dark Eyes First Opened In

Consciousness Again. Bonnie In Soft,  White Garments Sitting Beside The

Bed,  Watching. A Strange Contraction Of Fear And Hate Passed Over Her

Face As She Looked,  And She Spoke In An Insolent,  Sharp Little Voice,

Weak As A Sick Bird's Chirp.

 

"Who Sent You Here?" She Demanded.

 

"God," Said Bonnie,  Gently,  Without An Instant's Hesitation.

 

A Startled Look Came Into Gila's Eyes. "God! What Does He Want With Me?

Has He Sent You Here To Torment Me? I Know You,  Who You Are! You Are

That Poor Girl That Paul Picked Up In The Street. You Are Come To Pay Me

Back!"

 

Bonnie's Face Was Full Of Tenderness. "No,  Dear! That Is All Passed.

I've Just Come To Bring You A Message From God."

 

"God! What Have I To Do With God?" A Quiver Of Anguish Passed Over The

Weird Little Face. "I Hate God! He Hates Me! Am I Dead,  Then,  That He

Sends Me Messages?"

 

"No,  You Are Not Dead. And God Does Not Hate You. Listen! He Says,  'I

Have Loved You With An Everlasting Love.' That's The Message That He

Sends. He Is Here Now. He Wants You To Give Attention To Him!"

 

The Little Blanched Face On The Pillow Tightened And Hardened In Fear

Once More. "That's That Awful Presence Again! The Presence! The

Presence! I've Been Trying To Get Away From It For Three Years,  And It's

Pursued Me Everywhere! Now I'm Caught Like A Rat In A Trap And Can't Get

Away! If I'm Not Dead,  Then I Must Be Dying,  Or You Wouldn't Dare Talk

To Me This Awful Way! _I Am Dying!_ And _You_ Think _I'm Going To

Hell_!" Her Shrill Voice Rose Almost To A Scream.

 

Above The Sound,  Bonnie's Calm,  Clear Voice Dominated With A Sudden

Quieting Hush. Courtland,  Standing With The Doctor And Tennelly Just

Outside The Partly Open Door,  Was Thrilled With The Sweetness Of It,  As

If Some Supernatural Power Were Given To Her At This Trying Time.

 

"Listen,  Gila! This Is What He Says: 'God Sent Not His Son Into The

World To Condemn The World,  But That The World Through Him Might Be

Saved.... God So Loved The World That He Gave His Only Begotten Son,

That Whosoever Believeth In Him Should Not Perish,  But Have Everlasting

Life.' He Wants You To _Believe Now_ That He Loves You And Wants To Save

You."

 

"But He Couldn't!" Said Gila,  With The Old Petulant Tone. "I've Hated

Him All My Life! I _Hate Him Now_! And I've Never Been Good! I Couldn't

Be Good! I Don't _Want_ To Be Good! I Want To Do Just What I _Please_!

And I _Will_! I Won't Hear You Talk This Way! I Want To Get Up! Why Does

My Body Feel So Queer And Numb,  As If It Wasn't There? Am I Dying Now?

Answer Me Quick! Am I Dying? _I Know I Am._ I'm Dying And You Won't Tell

Me! I'm Dying And I'm Afraid! I'm Afraid!"

 

One Piercing Scream After Another Rang Out Through The Corridors. In

Vain Did Bonnie And The Nurse Seek To Soothe Her. The High,  Excited

Voice Raved On:

 

"I'm Afraid To Die! I'm Afraid Of That Presence! Send For Paul

Courtland! He Tried To Tell Me Once,  And I Wouldn't Hear! I Made Him

Choose Between Me And God! And _Now I'm Going To Be Punished_!"

 

"Listen,  Dear!" Went On Bonnie's Steady,  Tender Voice. "God Doesn't Want

To Punish. He Wants To Save. He Is Waiting To Forgive You If You Will

Let Him!"

 

Chapter 35 Pg 197

Soul In Mortal Anguish. Gila Fixed Her Great,  Anguishing Eyes On Bonnie.

 

"Forgive! Forgive! How Could Anybody Forgive All I've Done! You Don't

Know Anything About Such Things"--Half Contemptuously.--"You've Always

Been Goody-Good! I Can See It In Your Look. You Don't Know What It Is To

Have Men Making Fools Of Themselves Over You! You Don't Know All I've

Done! I've Been What They Call A Sinner! I Sent Away The Only Man I Ever

Loved Because I Was _Jealous Of God_! I Broke The Heart Of The Man Who

Loved Me Because I Got Tired Of Him And His Everlasting Perfection! I

Hated The Idea Of Being A Mother,  And When My Child Came I Deserted Her!

I Would Have Killed Her If I Had Dared! I Went Away With A Bad Man! And

When I Got Tired Of Him I Took The First Way That Opened To Get Away

From Him! God Doesn't Forgive Things Like That! I Didn't Expect He Would

When I Did Them. But It Wasn't Fair Not To Let Me Live Out My Life! I'm

Too Young To Die! And I'm Afraid! I'm Afraid!"

 

"Yes. God Forgives All Those Things! There Was A Woman Once Who Had Been

Like That,  And Jesus Forgave Her. He Will Forgive You If You Ask Him.

But He Can't Forgive You Unless You Are Sorry And Really Want Him To. He

Says,  'Though Your Sins Be As Scarlet They Shall Be As White As Snow;

And Though They Be Red Like Crimson,  They Shall Be As Wool,' But You

Have To Be Sorry First That You Sinned. He Can't Forgive You If You

Aren't Sorry."

 

"Sorry! _Sorry!_" Gila's Laugh Rang Out Mirthlessly And Echoed In The

High,  White Room. "Oh,  I'm _Sorry_,  All Right! What Do You Think I Am?

Do You Think I've Been _Happy_? Don't You Know That I've Suffered

Torments? Everything Has Turned To Ashes That I've Touched! I've Gone

Everywhere And Done Everything To Try To Forget Myself,  But Always There

Was That Awful Presence Chasing Me! Standing In My Way Everywhere I

Turned! Driving Me! Always Driving Me Toward Hell! I've Tried Drowning

My Thoughts With Cocktails And Dope,  But Always When It Wore Off There

Would Be The Presence Of God Pursuing Me! Do You Mean To Tell Me There

Is Forgiveness For Me With Him?"

 

Her Breath Was Coming In Painful Gasps As She Screamed Out The Words As

The Nurse Leaned Over And Gave Her A Quieting Draught.

 

Bonnie,  In A Low,  Clear Voice,  Began To Repeat Bible Verses:

 

     "The Blood Of Jesus Christ His Son Cleanseth Us From _All_

     Sin!

 

     "As Far As The East Is From The West,  So Far Hath He Removed

     Our Transgressions From Us.

 

     "I,  Even I,  Am He That Blotteth Out Thy Transgressions For

     Mine Own Sake,  And Will Not Remember Thy Sins.

 

     "If We Confess Our Sins He Is Faithful And Just To Forgive

     Us Our Sins And To Cleanse Us From All Unrighteousness."

 

Gila Listened With Wondering,  Incredulous Eyes,  Like The Eyes Of A

Frightened,  Naughty Child Who Scarcely Understood What Was Being Said

And Was In A Frenzy Of Fear.

 

"Oh,  If Paul Courtland Were Here He Would Tell Me If This Is True!" Gila

Cried At Last.

 

Instantly,  From Out The Shadow Of The Doorway,  Stepped Courtland,  And

Stood At The Foot Of The Bed Where She Could See Him,  Looking Steadily

At The Dying Girl For A Moment,  And Then Lifting His Eyes,  As If To One

Who Stood Just Beside Her:

 

"O Jesus Christ! Who Came To Save,  Come Close To This Poor Little

Wandering Child Of Thine And Show Her That She Is Forgiven! Take Her

Gently By The Hand And Help Her To See Thee,  How Loving Thou Art! Help

Her To Understand How Thou Didst Come To Earth And Die To Take Her Place

Of Punishment So That She Might Be Forgiven! Open Her Eyes To Comprehend

What Love Like That Can Be!"

 

Gila Turned Startled Eyes On Courtland As She Heard His Voice,  Strong,

Beseeching,  Tender,  Intimate With God! She Lay Listening,  Watching His

Illumined Face As He Prayed. Watched And Listened As One Who Suddenly

Sees A Ray Of Light Where All Was Darkness; Till Gradually The Tenseness

And Pain Faded From Her Face And A Surprised Calm Came To Take Its

Place.

 

The Strong Voice Went On,  Talking With The Saviour About What He Had

Done For This Poor Erring One,  Till With A Sigh,  Like A Tired Child,  The

Eyelids Dropped Over Her Frightened Eyes And A Look Of Peace Began To

Dawn.

 

While The Prayer Had Been Going On,  Tennelly,  With His Little Girl In

His Arms,  Had Slipped Silently Into The Room And Stood With Bowed Head

Looking With Anguished Eyes At The Wreck Of The Beautiful Girl Who Was

Once His Wife.

 

Suddenly,  As If Alive To Subtle Influences,  Gila Opened Her Great Eyes

Again And Looked Straight At Tennelly And The Baby! A Dart Of

Consciousness Came Into Her Gaze And Something Like A Wave Of Anguish

Passed Over Her Face. She Made A Piteous,  Helpless Movement With The

Little Jeweled Hands That Lay Limply On The Coverlet,  And Murmured One

Word,  With Pleading In Her Eyes:

 

"Forgive!"

 

Courtland Had Ceased Praying And The Room Was Very Still Till Bonnie,

Just Outside The Door,  Began To Sing,  Softly:

 

     "Rock Of Ages,  Cleft For Me,

      Let Me Hide Myself In Thee!

      Let The Water And The Blood

      From Thy Riven Side Which Flowed

      Be Of Sin The Double Cure,

      Save Me From Its Guilt And Power!"

Chapter 35 Pg 198

Suddenly Little Doris,  Who Had Been Looking Down,  With Wondering Baby

Solemnity On The Strange Scene,  Leaned Forward And Pointed To The Bed.

 

"Pitty Mamma Dawn As'eep!" She Said,  Softly; And With A Groan Tennelly

Sank With Her To His Knees Beside The Bed. Courtland,  Kneeling A Little

Way Off,  Spoke Out Once More:

 

"Lord Jesus,  The Saviour Of The World,  We Leave Her With Thy Tender

Mercy!"

 

As If A Visible Sign Of Assent Had Been Asked,  The Setting Sun Suddenly

Dropped Lower,  Touching Into Blazing Glory The Golden Cross On The

Church,  And Threw Its Reflection Upon The Wall At The Head Of The Bed

Just Over The White Face Of The Dead.

 

The Baby Saw And Pointed Once Again. "Pitty! Pitty! Papa,  See!"

 

The Sorrowing Father Lifted His Eyes To The Golden Symbol Of Salvation,

And Courtland,  Standing At The Foot Of The Bed,  Said,  Softly:

 

"I Am The Resurrection And The Life: He That Believeth In Me,  Though He

Were Dead,  Yet Shall He Live."

 

 

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

"_The Books You Like To Read At The Price You Like To Pay_"

 

 

 

 

_There Are Two Sides To Everything_--

 

     --Including The Wrapper Which Covers Every Grosset & Dunlap

     Book. When You Feel In The Mood For A Good Romance,  Refer To

     The Carefully Selected List Of Modern Fiction Comprising

     Most Of The Successes By Prominent Writers Of The Day Which

     Is Printed On The Back Of Every Grosset & Dunlap Book

     Wrapper.

 

     You Will Find More Than Five Hundred Titles To Choose

     From--Books For Every Mood And Every Taste And Every

     Pocket-Book.

 

     _Don't Forget The Other Side,  But In Case The Wrapper Is

     Lost,  Write To The Publishers For A Complete Catalog._

 

Chapter 35 Pg 199

     _There Is A Grosset & Dunlap Book For Every Mood And For

     Every Taste_

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edgar Rice Burrough's Novels

 

     May Be Had Wherever Books Are Sold. Ask For Grosset & Dunlap's List.

 

 

 

 

Tarzan The Untamed

 

Tells Of Tarzan's Return To The Life Of The Ape-Man In His Search For

Vengeance On Those Who Took From Him His Wife And Home.

 

 

 

 

Jungle Tales Of Tarzan

 

Records The Many Wonderful Exploits By Which Tarzan Proves His Right To

Ape Kingship.

 

 

 

 

A Princess Of Mars

 

Forty-Three Million Miles From The Earth--A Succession Of The Weirdest

And Most Astounding Adventures In Fiction. John Carter,  American,  Finds

Himself On The Planet Mars,  Battling For A Beautiful Woman,  With The

Green Men Of Mars,  Terrible Creatures Fifteen Feet High,  Mounted On

Horses Like Dragons.

 

 

 

 

The Gods Of Mars

 

Continuing John Carter's Adventures On The Planet Mars,  In Which He Does

Battle Against The Ferocious "Plant Men," Creatures Whose Mighty Tails

Swished Their Victims To Instant Death,  And Defies Issus,  The Terrible

Goddess Of Death,  Whom All Mars Worships And Reveres.

 

 

 

 

The Warlord Of Mars

 

Old Acquaintances,  Made In The Two Other Stories,  Reappear,  Tars Tarkas,

Tardos Mors And Others. There Is A Happy Ending To The Story In The

Union Of The Warlord,  The Title Conferred Upon John Carter,  With Dejah

Thoris.

 

 

 

 

Thuvia,  Maid Of Mars

 

The Fourth Volume Of The Series. The Story Centers Around The Adventures

Of Carthoris,  The Son Of John Carter And Thuvia,  Daughter Of A Martian

Emperor.

 

Grosset & Dunlap. Publishers,  New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

James Oliver Curwood's Stories Of Adventure

 

     May Be Had Wherever Books Are Sold. Ask For Grosset & Dunlap's List.

 

 

 

 

The River's End

 

A Story Of The Royal Mounted Police.

 

 

 

 

The Golden Snare

 

Thrilling Adventures In The Far Northland.

 

 

 

 

Nomads Of The North

 

The Story Of A Bear-Cub And A Dog.

 

 

 

 

Kazan

 

Chapter 35 Pg 200

The Tale Of A "Quarter-Strain Wolf And Three-Quarters Husky" Torn

Between The Call Of The Human And His Wild Mate.

 

 

 

 

Baree,  Son Of Kazan

 

The Story Of The Son Of The Blind Grey Wolf And The Gallant Part He

Played In The Lives Of A Man And A Woman.

 

 

 

 

The Courage Of Captain Plum

 

The Story Of The King Of Beaver Island,  A Mormon Colony,  And His Battle

With Captain Plum.

 

 

 

 

The Danger Trail

 

A Tale Of Love,  Indian Vengeance,  And A Mystery Of The North.

 

 

 

 

The Hunted Woman

 

A Tale Of A Great Fight In The "Valley Of Gold" For A Woman.

 

 

 

 

The Flower Of The North

 

The Story Of Fort O' God,  Where The Wild Flavor Of The Wilderness Is

Blended With The Courtly Atmosphere Of France.

 

 

 

 

The Grizzly King

 

The Story Of Thor,  The Big Grizzly.

 

 

 

 

Isobel

 

A Love Story Of The Far North.

 

 

 

 

The Wolf Hunters

 

A Thrilling Tale Of Adventure In The Canadian Wilderness.

 

 

 

 

The Gold Hunters

 

The Story Of Adventure In The Hudson Bay Wilds.

 

 

 

 

The Courage Of Marge O'doone

 

Filled With Exciting Incidents In The Land Of Strong Men And Women.

 

 

 

 

Back To God's Country

 

A Thrilling Story Of The Far North. The Great Photoplay Was Made From

This Book.

 

Grosset & Dunlap,  Publishers,  New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zane Grey's Novels

 

     May Be Had Wherever Books Are Sold. Ask For Grosset & Dunlap's List.

 

 

 

 

     The Man Of The Forest

     The Desert Of Wheat

     The U.P. Trail

     Wildfire

     The Border Legion

     The Rainbow Trail

     The Heritage Of The Desert

     Riders Of The Purple Sage

     The Light Of Western Stars

     The Last Of The Plainsmen

Chapter 35 Pg 201

     The Lone Star Ranger

     Desert Gold

     Betty Zane

 

 

Last Of The Great Scouts

 

The Life Story Of "Buffalo Bill" By His Sister Helen Cody Wetmore,  With

Foreword And Conclusion By Zane Grey.

 

 

 

 

Zane Grey's Books For Boys

 

     Ken Ward In The Jungle

     The Young Lion Hunter

     The Young Forester

     The Young Pitcher

     The Short Stop

     The Red-Headed Outfield And Other Baseball Stories

 

Grosset & Dunlap,  Publishers,  New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peter B. Kyne's Novels

 

     May Be Had Wherever Books Are Sold. Ask For Grosset & Dunlap's List.

 

 

 

 

The Pride Of Palomar

 

When Two Strong Men Clash And The Under-Dog Has Irish Blood In His

Veins--There's A Tale That Kyne Can Tell! And "The Girl" Is Also Very

Much In Evidence.

 

 

 

 

Kindred Of The Dust

 

Donald Mckay,  Son Of Hector Mckay,  Millionaire Lumber King,  Falls In

Love With "Nan Of The Sawdust Pile," A Charming Girl Who Has Been

Ostracized By Her Townsfolk.

 

 

 

 

The Valley Of The Giants

 

The Fight Of The Cardigans,  Father And Son,  To Hold The Valley Of The

Giants Against Treachery. The Reader Finishes With A Sense Of Having

Lived With Big Men And Women In A Big Country.

 

 

 

 

Cappy Ricks

 

The Story Of Old Cappy Ricks And Of Matt Peasley,  The Boy He Tried To

Break Because He Knew The Acid Test Was Good For His Soul.

 

 

 

 

Webster: Man's Man

 

In A Little Jim Crow Republic In Central America,  A Man And A Woman,

Hailing From The "States," Met Up With A Revolution And For A While

Adventures And Excitement Came So Thick And Fast That Their Love Affair

Had To Wait For A Lull In The Game.

 

 

 

 

Captain Scraggs

 

This Sea Yarn Recounts The Adventures Of Three Rapscallion Sea-Faring

Men--A Captain Scraggs,  Owner Of The Green Vegetable Freighter Maggie,

Gibney The Mate And Mcguffney The Engineer.

 

 

 

 

The Long Chance

 

A Story Fresh From The Heart Of The West,  Of San Pasqual,  A Sun-Baked

Desert Town,  Of Harley P. Hennage,  The Best Gambler,  The Best And Worst

Man Of San Pasqual And Of Lovely Donna.

 

Grosset & Dunlap,  Publishers,  New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ruby M. Ayres' Novels

 

     May Be Had Wherever Books Are Sold. Ask For Grosset & Dunlap's List.

 

Richard Chatterton

Chapter 35 Pg 202

A Fascinating Story In Which Love And Jealousy Play Strange Tricks With

Women's Souls.

 

 

 

 

A Bachelor Husband

 

Can A Woman Love Two Men At The Same Time?

 

In Its Solving Of This Particular Variety Of Triangle "A Bachelor

Husband" Will Particularly Interest,  And Strangely Enough,  Without One

Shock To The Most Conventional Minded.

 

 

 

 

The Scar

 

With Fine Comprehension And Insight The Author Shows A Terrific Contrast

Between The Woman Whose Love Was Of The Flesh And One Whose Love Was Of

The Spirit.

 

 

 

 

The Marriage Of Barry Wicklow

 

Here Is A Man And Woman Who,  Marrying For Love,  Yet Try To Build Their

Wedded Life Upon A Gospel Of Hate For Each Other And Yet Win Back To A

Greater Love For Each Other In The End.

 

 

 

 

The Uphill Road

 

The Heroine Of This Story Was A Consort Of Thieves. The Man Was Fine,

Clean,  Fresh From The West. It Is A Story Of Strength And Passion.

 

 

 

 

Winds Of The World

 

Jill,  A Poor Little Typist,  Marries The Great Henry Sturgess And

Inherits Millions,  But Not Happiness. Then At Last--But We Must Leave

That To Ruby M. Ayres To Tell You As Only She Can.

 

 

 

 

The Second Honeymoon

 

In This Story The Author Has Produced A Book Which No One Who Has Loved

Or Hopes To Love Can Afford To Miss. The Story Fairly Leaps From Climax

To Climax.

 

 

 

 

The Phantom Lover

 

Have You Not Often Heard Of Someone Being In Love With Love Rather Than

The Person They Believed The Object Of Their Affections? That Was

Esther! But She Passes Through The Crisis Into A Deep And Profound Love.

 

Grosset & Dunlap,  Publishers,  New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

Florence L. Barclay's Novels

 

     May Be Had Wherever Books Are Sold. Ask For Grosset & Dunlap's List.

 

 

 

 

The White Ladies Of Worcester

 

A Novel Of The 12th Century. The Heroine,  Believing She Had Lost Her

Lover,  Enters A Convent. He Returns,  And Interesting Developments

Follow.

 

 

 

 

The Upas Tree

 

A Love Story Of Rare Charm. It Deals With A Successful Author And His

Wife.

 

 

 

 

Through The Postern Gate

 

The Story Of A Seven Day Courtship,  In Which The Discrepancy In Ages

Vanished Into Insignificance Before The Convincing Demonstration Of

Abiding Love.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 35 Pg 203

The Rosary

 

The Story Of A Young Artist Who Is Reputed To Love Beauty Above All Else

In The World,  But Who,  When Blinded Through An Accident,  Gains Life's

Greatest Happiness. A Rare Story Of The Great Passion Of Two Real People

Superbly Capable Of Love,  Its Sacrifices And Its Exceeding Reward.

 

 

 

 

The Mistress Of Shenstone

 

The Lovely Young Lady Ingleby,  Recently Widowed By The Death Of A

Husband Who Never Understood Her,  Meets A Fine,  Clean Young Chap Who Is

Ignorant Of Her Title And They Fall Deeply In Love With Each Other. When

He Learns Her Real Identity A Situation Of Singular Power Is Developed.

 

 

 

 

The Broken Halo

 

The Story Of A Young Man Whose Religious Belief Was Shattered In

Childhood And Restored To Him By The Little White Lady,  Many Years Older

Than Himself,  To Whom He Is Passionately Devoted.

 

 

 

 

The Following Of The Star

 

The Story Of A Young Missionary,  Who,  About To Start For Africa,  Marries

Wealthy Diana Rivers,  In Order To Help Her Fulfill The Conditions Of Her

Uncle's Will,  And How They Finally Come To Love Each Other And Are

Reunited After Experiences That Soften And Purify.

 

Grosset & Dunlap,  Publishers,  New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ethel M. Dell's Novels

 

     May Be Had Wherever Books Are Sold. Ask For Grosset & Dunlap's List.

 

 

 

 

The Lamp In The Desert

 

The Scene Of This Splendid Story Is Laid In India And Tells Of The Lamp

Of Love That Continues To Shine Through All Sorts Of Tribulations To

Final Happiness.

 

 

 

 

Greatheart

 

The Story Of A Cripple Whose Deformed Body Conceals A Noble Soul.

 

 

 

 

The Hundredth Chance

 

A Hero Who Worked To Win Even When There Was Only "A Hundredth Chance."

 

 

 

 

The Swindler

 

The Story Of A "Bad Man's" Soul Revealed By Woman's Faith.

 

 

 

 

The Tidal Wave

 

Tales Of Love And Of Women Who Learned To Know The True From The False.

 

 

 

 

The Safety Curtain

 

A Very Vivid Love Story Of India. The Volume Also Contains Four Other

Long Stories Of Equal Interest.

 

Grosset & Dunlap,  Publishers,  New York

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 14.05.2014

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