A Man in the Open Part 37

"So you're good, and I'm bad; you're high-toned society, and I'm a poor sporting lady. Oh, I saw ye lift yer skirt away when yer pa.s.sed me--calling yerself a Christian, when just one word of Christian kindness would have saved the likes of me.

"Ye needn't look over my head as if I wasn't there. I'm no fairy, I ain't--no dream. I'm facts, and ye'd better face 'em. 'Sisters of Sorrow' they calls us, who gave everything, who gave ourselves.

"And you _good_ women pride yerselves in virtue, which ain't been tempted. Your virtue never been outdoors in the rain, gettin' wet. Your virtue never been starved and froze, or fooled and betrayed. Your colors ain't run, 'cause they've never been to the wash. You don't know good from evil, and you set thar judgin' me.

"Tears running down yer face, eh? You think you struck it rough when you came up agin me. Poor Carrots playin' Christian martyr. I done you good if you know'd it. I'm all the schoolin' you got in real life. I waked ye from dreams to livin'. And you an' me is women, sisters in pain. I wish'd I'd auburn hair like your'n, Kate, and a baby David to favor me with hair an' eyes. And if I'd had a home! But I didn't get a fair show ever, and every time I done good, I got it in the neck. Well, what's the odds?

"It wasn't you brung me down, Kate. Don't cry like that, dear. It don't matter. Nothing matters. It was this Brooke which done for me, not you or Jesse. Brooke's only a thing I took in like a lost dog 'cause he was hungry. He said he'd manage my business, and he sh.o.r.ely did--invested all I'd got in a governess, and a bonfire at Mathson's, and a stampede of mules. Then he fooled a widow down to Ashcroft to start him running a tourist joint, and I was to be turned out. And he fell in love with you.

"I guess that's all, excep' I got to tell you one thing. It was nursing the sick men kep' me straight all them years, kep' me from drink. You see I was meant for a nurse, trained for a nurse until--until--well, never you mind. Brooke stopped the nursing, and I drank. I'm only a nurse gone wrong.

"Yes, your eyes is wonderin' why they don't come back with them bandages, and the bath. Don't worry about that, 'cause I'll be dead by daybreak. Jesse loved yer. Brooke loved yer, and somehow, well, I'm kinder ranging that way myself. And if I go, you'll get back Jess, eh?"

Rallying what courage I had left, I knelt down and kissed my sister, my poor sister. For a moment I let her stroke my carroty hair, which she liked. Then I ran to hurry my people to bring the beef tea, the hot water, the bandages. I found that wretched nurse detaining Billy and the Chinaman, with some pretense that I must not be disturbed. I was telling her to get out of my sight, to go to her bed, when a revolver-shot rang through the echoing house.

Polly had crawled to the door-step, found her revolver. She who gave everything in life, had given me back to Jesse, and lay dead, her forehead shattered in with the revolver-shot. For some seconds Billy and I hung back, watching from the doorway while a slow coil of smoke unfolded in the wan light of the dawn. The rain had ceased, and the east was all aglow with golden radiance.

Billy knelt and touched the poor broken forehead, then looking up at me, "This time," he said, "it's real."

EPILOGUE

Once more with Jesse in Cathedral Grove! The breath of evening stirred its tangled coral, the long needles cl.u.s.tered in globes were swaying as censors sway, with heavy incense. Beyond the purple night swept up over glowing cliffs to where the upper forest like an edge of flame burned against deeps of sky.

"Come to the hilltop: blackbird choristers Peal their clear anthem to the kneeling gorse."

Jesse lay dreaming while I sang to him. Crisp silvered hair, and the deeply graven lines of his dear face, gave him at rest a sweet sad dignity; but presently he would look up, his big mouth humorous, his eyes alight with fun, a man of commanding power matured in wisdom, in sympathy, and valor to lead his fellows.

Through the east window of the grove, I could see a little procession of my closest friends pa.s.s on their Sunday stroll. First came Pete, ill at ease in his Sabbath suit of blacks, and with him, arm in arm, was Mrs.

Pete in silk, full-skirted, p.r.i.c.kly, and so very grim. Then Billy pa.s.sed slowly by, his mother stumping beside him, bound to keep the pace. They had the new rabbit with them, collared and chained like a bulldog, and were followed by David's nurse, dear Patsy, Billy's wife--plucking my young anemones--the wretch!

Out on the perilous edge of Apex Rock I could see young Mr. Nisted, Father Jared's nephew, a pupil in Jesse's school of colonial training.

With rod and line he was seriously fis.h.i.+ng--for birds!

"Don't you reckon," said Jesse, relighting a stale cigar, "that it's time we stopped our book?"

"Oh, but--"

"It's tempting Providence, young woman; it's encouraging the police.

From the moment you started the thing, we've had more'n our share of adventures. Put up a notice, 'Book Closed. No more adventurers need apply. Try Surly Brown for a change.'"

"But what shall we do?"

"Publish the blamed thing, and serves it right. Throw it to the critics."

"But it's all secrets!"

"Change the names and places. We'll be 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith,'

well-meaning private persons located somewhere west. I'm going to have blue eyes."

"But mine _are_ blue."

"I made first grab. You can have green, and a large mouth, and your Christian name is Carrots. h.e.l.lo, here's Baby David."

My son was coming through the scented dusk, and in his arms he carried a large dog, a china dog with gilt muzzle, split from nose to tail, but carefully mended.

"Sonny," said Jesse, "don't you drop Maria, or she'll have puppies."

"I did, and she didn't; so there! Something dropped out, though. See, mummie."

David had thrown Maria into my lap, and danced about in the gloaming with some strange trophy, the tail of a large animal.

"Sort of reminds me," said Jesse, "of being a little boy. That's the Inspector's tale. This is a long way, too, from the Labrador."

The wind made quite a disturbance, telling the pines to hush, while both my son and Jesse wanted to play with the wolf tail, and would not be quiet, though already the stars and the fireflies had lighted Cathedral Grove, and the great river like an organ crooned the first deep notes of nature's even-song. An awed expectant silence came to us.

"Lighten our darkness," said the grave old trees, "we beseech Thee."

"By Thy great mercy," pleaded the little flowers.

"Defend us from all perils," the small birds twittered.

"And dangers of the night," the aspens quavered.

"For the love of Thy only Son," cried the South Wind.

"Our Saviour Jesus Christ," a woman's voice responded.

"Amen," the cliffs were breathing.

"Amen," the high clouds echoed.

"Amen," said the organ river.

And from the reverent woodlands came:

"Amen. Amen."