 CHAPTER XIII. Mr. Underwood Strikes First The ensuing days were filled with work demanding close attention and concentration of thought, but often in the long-cooled twilight, while Daryl rested from his day's work before entering upon the night's study, he recalled his visit to the pines with a degree of pleasure hitherto unknown. He had found Kate Underwood far different from his anticipations, though just what his anticipations had been he did not stop to define. There was at times a womanly grace and dignity in her bearing which he would have expected from her portrait and in which he admired. But what especially attracted him was her utter lack of effectation or self-consciousness. She was as unconscious as a child. Her sympathy towards himself and her pleasant familiarity with him were those of a warm-hearted, winsome child. He liked best to recall her as she looked that evening, seated by the fireside. The childish pose, the graceful outlines of her form, silhouetted against the light, the dreamy eyes but their long golden lashes curling upward, the lips parted in a half-smile and the gleam of the firelight on her hair. But it was always as a child that he recalled her and the thought that, to himself or to any other, she could be ought else never occurred to him. Of young Whitcomb's love for her, of course, he had no recollection, nor had it ever been mentioned in his hearing since his illness. Day by day the work at the camp increased and there also began to be indications of an approaching outbreak among the men. The Union boarding-house was during completion. It was rumored that it would be ready for occupancy within a week or ten days. The walking delegates from the Union could be frequently seen loitering about the camp, especially when the changes and shifts were made, waiting to get word with the men, and it was nothing uncommon to see occasional groups of the men engaged in argument which suddenly broke off at the appearance of Daryl or of Hathaway, the superintendent. So engrossed was Mr. Underwood with the arrangement of details for the inauguration of the new firm of Underwood and Walcott that he was unable to be at the camp that week. On Saturday afternoon, Daryl, having learned that Hathaway was to be gone over Sunday and believing it best under existing circumstances not to leave the camp, sent Mr. Underwood a message to that effect, and also informing him of the status of affairs there. Early the following week Mr. Underwood made his appearance at the camp, and if the Union bosses had entertained any hope of effecting a compromise with the owner of Camp Bird, as it was known, such hope must have been blasted upon mere sight of that gentleman's face upon his arrival. Daryl himself could scarcely restrain a smile of amusement as they met. Mr. Underwood fairly bristled with defiance, and after the briefest kind of a greeting, started to make his usual rounds of the camp. He stopped abruptly, fumbled in his pocket for an instant, then handing a dainty envelope to Daryl, hastened on without a word. Daryl saw smiles exchanged among the men, but he preserved the utmost gravity until, having reached his desk, he opened and read the little note. It contained merely a few pleasant lines from Kate expressing disappointment at his failure to come to the pines on the preceding Saturday, and reminding him of his promise concerning the violin. But the post-script, which in true feminine style comprised the real gist of the note, made him smile audibly. It ran. Papa has donned his paint and feathers this morning, and is evidently starting out on the warpath. I have not an idea whose scalps he intends taking, but hope you will at least preserve your own intact. At dinner Mr. Underwood maintained an ominous silence, replying in monosyllables to any question or remark addressed to him. He soon left the table, and Daryl did not see him again till late in the afternoon when he entered the laboratory. A glance at the set lines of his face told Daryl, as plainly as words, that his line of action was fully determined upon, and that it would be as fixed and unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. I am going home now, he announced briefly and replied to Daryl's somewhat questioning look. I'll be back here the last of the week. What do you think of the outlook, Mr. Underwood? Daryl inquired. It is about what I expected. I have seen all the men. They are, as I supposed, under the thumb of the Union bosses. A few of them realize that the whole proposition is unreasonable and absurd, and they don't want to go out, but they don't dare say so above their breath, and they don't dare disobey orders because they are owned body and soul by the Union. Have any of the leaders tried to make terms? I met one of their walking delegates this morning, said Mr. Underwood, with scornful emphasis. I told him to walk himself out of the camper I'd boot him out, and he walked. Daryl laughed. Mr. Underwood continued. The boarding house opens on Thursday. On next Monday, every man not enrolled in that institution will be ordered out. It's to be a strike, then. Sure thing, is it? Daryl asked. Yes, there'll be a strike. Mr. Underwood answered grimly, while a quick gleam shot across his face. But remember one thing, he added, as he turned to leave the room. No man ever yet got the drop or the first blow on me. Matters continued about the same at the camp. On Friday favorable reports concerning the new boarding house began to be circulated, brought the preceding evening by miners from another camp. Some of the men looked sullen and defiant, others only painfully self-conscious in the presence of Daryl and the superintendent, but it was evident that the crisis was approaching. Late Friday night, a horseman dismounted silently before the door of the office building, and Mr. Underwood walked quietly into Daryl's room. How's the new hotel? Overrun with borders? He asked as he seated himself, paying little attention to Daryl's exclamation of surprise. Chapman's men, about fifty and all, are the only ones there at present. Chapman, ejaculated Mr. Underwood, what is Chapman doing? He agreed to stand in with the rest of us on this thing. He told Halfway this morning he was only doing it for experiment. The boarding house is located near his claims, you know, and he has comparatively few men, so he said he didn't mind trying it for a month or so. Khan found him. I'll make it the dearest experiment he ever tried, said Mr. Underwood wrathfully. He was in our office the other day trying to negotiate a loan for twenty-five thousand dollars that he said he had got to have within ten days or go to the wall. I'll say that he doesn't get it anywhere about here unless he stands by his word with us. After further conversation, Mr. Underwood went out, saying he had a little business about the camp to attend to. He returned in the course of an hour, and Daryl heard him holding a long consultation with Halfway before he retired for the night. The following morning, the mill men of the camp, ongoing to their work, were astonished to find the mill closed and silent, while fastened on the great doors was a large placard which read as follows. Notice, the entire mining and milling plant of Camp Bird is closed down for an indefinite period. All employees are requested to call at the superintendent's office and receive their wages up to and including Saturday the 10th inst. D.K. Underwood. The miners found the hoist house and the various shaft houses closed and deserted, with notices similar to the above posted on their doors. Daryl, upon going to breakfast, learned that Mr. Underwood and the superintendent had breakfasted at an early hour. A little later on his way to the mill, he observed groups of men here and there, some standing, some moving in the direction of the office, but gave the matter no particular thought until he reached the mill and was himself confronted by the placard. As he read the notice and recalled the groups of idlers, certain remarks made by Mr. Underwood came to his mind, and he seemed struck by the humorous side of the situation. The old gentleman seems to have got the drop on them all right, he said to himself, as, with an amusing smile, he walked past the mill and out in the direction of the hoist. The ore bins were closed and locked. The tram cars stood empty on their tracks. The hoisting engine was still. The hoist house and shaft house is deserted. After the ceaseless noise and activity to which he had become accustomed at the camp, the silence seemed depressive, and he turned and retraced his steps to the office. A crowd of men was gathered outside the office building. In single file they passed into the office to the superintendent's window, received their money silently, in almost every instance without comment or question, and passed out again. Once outside, however, there they remained, their number constantly augmented by new arrivals, for the men on the night shift had been aroused by their comrades and were now streaming down from the bunk houses. A few laughed and joked. Some looked sullen, some troubled and anxious, but all remained packed about the building, quiet, undemonstrative, and mute as dumb brutes as to their reason for staying there. They were all prepared to march boldly out of the mill and mines on the following Monday on a strike in obedience to orders, even to resort to violence in defense of their so-called rights if so ordered. But Mr. Underwood's sudden move had disarmed them. There had been no opportunity for a conference with their leaders, with the result that they acted more in accordance with their own individual instincts, and the loss of work for which they would have cared little in the event of a strike was now uppermost in their minds. They eyed Daryl furtively and curiously, making way for him as he entered the building. But still they waited. For a few moments Daryl watched the scene, then he passed through the office into the room beyond where he found Mr. Underwood engaged in sorting and filing papers. The latter looked up with a grim smile. Been down to the mill? Oh yes, Daryl answered, laughing. I went to work as usual, only to find the door shut in my face, the same as the rest. Hmm. What do you think of the strike now? I think you are making them swallow their own medicine, but I don't see why you need give me a dose of it. I haven't threatened to strike. Mr. Underwood's eyes twinkled shrewdly, as he replied. You had better go out there and get your pay along with the rest, and then go to your room and pack up. You may not be needed at the mill again for the next six months. Will it be as serious as that, do you think? Daryl inquired. Before Mr. Underwood could reply, the superintendent opened the office door hastily. Mr. Underwood, he said, will you come out and speak to the men? They are all waiting outside and I can't drive them away. They say they won't stir till they've seen you. With a look of annoyance Mr. Underwood rose and passed out into the office. Daryl, somewhat interested, followed. Well, boys, said Mr. Underwood, as he appeared in the doorway, what do you want of me? If you please, sir, said one man, evidently spokesman for the crowd, and whom Daryl at once recognized as Dan the engineer, if you please, sir, we would like to know how long this shutdown is going to last. Can't tell, Mr. Underwood replied shortly. Can't tell anything about it at present. It's indefinite. Well, persisted the man. There's some of us has thought that maybe it would only be till this ear trouble about the meals has settled, one way or another, and there's some of us thought maybe it had nothing to do with that. Well, said Mr. Underwood impatiently. Well, sir, said Dan, lowering his voice a little and edging nearer, Mr. Underwood, you know as how the most of us was satisfied with things as they was and didn't want no change and wouldn't have made no kick. Only, you see, we had to. And we felt kinder anxious to know whether or if this thing got settled some way and the camp opened up again, whether we could get back in our old places. Dan, said Mr. Underwood impressively, and speaking loudly enough for every man to hear, there can be no settlement of this question except to have things go on under precisely the same terms and conditions as they've always gone. So none of your leaders need come to me for terms, for they won't get them. And as to opening up the mines and mill, I'll open them up whenever I get ready, not a day sooner or later. And when I do start up again, if you men have come to your senses by that time and are ready to come back on the same terms, all right. If not, he paused an instant, then added with emphasis, just remember, there'll be others and plenty of them too. Yes, sir, thank you, sir, Dan answered somewhat dubiously. Then one and all moved slowly and mechanically away. Mr. Underwood turned to Daryl. Get your things together as soon as you can. I'm going to send down three or four of the teams after dinner and they can take your things along. And here's the key to the mill. Go over and pick out whatever you will want in the way of an assaying outfit and have that taken down with the rest. There's no need if you're going to the expense of buying an outfit just for temporary use. By two o'clock, scarcely a man remained at the camp. Mr. Underwood and Daryl were among the last to leave. Two faithful servants of Mr. Underwoods had arrived an hour or so before who were to act as watchmen during the shutdown. Having taken them around the camp and given them the necessary instructions, Mr. Underwood then gave them the keys of the various buildings, saying, as he took his departure, there's grub enough in the boarding house to last you two for some time. But whenever there's anything needed, let me know. Bring over some beds from the bunkhouse and make yourselves comfortable. He climbed to a seat on one of the wagons and, as they started, turned back to the watchman for his parting admonition. Keep an eye on things, boys. You're both good shots. If you catch anybody prowling round here day or night, wing him, boys, wing him. The teams then rattled noisily down the canyon road. Daryl, with tricks bringing up the rear, feeling himself a sort of shuttlecock, tossed to and fro by antagonistic forces, in whose conflicts he personally had no part and no interest. However, he wasted no moments and useless regrets, but rode along in deep thought, planning for the uninterrupted pursuit of his studies amid the new and less favorable surroundings. Thus far he had met with unlooked-for success along the line of his researches and experiments, and each success but stimulated him to more diligent study. On their arrival at Ophir, Mr. Underwood gave directions to have the assaying outfit taken to the rooms in the rear of his own offices, after which he and Daryl, with the remaining teams, proceeded in the direction of the pines. Tricks, unfinding herself headed for home, quickened her steps to such a brisk pace that on reaching the long driveway Daryl was considerably in advance of the others. He had no sooner emerged from the pines into the open, in full view of the house, than Duke came bounding down the driveway to meet him, with every possible demonstration of joyous welcome. His loud barking brought the ladies to the door, just as Daryl, having quickly dismounted and sent tricks to the stables, was running up the broad stairs to the veranda, the collie close at his side. Just look at Duke, Kate Underwood exclaimed, shaking hands with Daryl. And this is only the second time he has met you. You surely have won his heart, Mr. Daryl. You are the only person outside of Catherine he has ever condescended to notice, said Mrs. Dean with a smile. I assure you I feel immensely flattered by his friendship, Daryl replied, caressing the collie, the more so because I know it to be genuine. He won't so much as look at me, Mrs. Dean added. That is because you objected at first to having him here, said Kate. He knows it and he'll not forget it. But Mr. Daryl, where is Papa? He will be here directly, Daryl answered, smiling as he suddenly recalled the little note within his pocket. He is returning from the warpath with the trophies of victory. Kate laughed and colored slightly. Your own scalp is not suffered at any rate, she said. But he has brought me back a captive. Here he comes now. The wagon loaded with Daryl's belongings was just coming slowly into view, with Mr. Underwood on the seat beside the driver, the other teams having been sent to the stables by another route. Daryl noted the surprise depicted on the faces beside him, and turning to Mrs. Dean, who stood next to him, he said in a low tone, I have come back to the old home, mother, for a little while. Is there room for me? Mrs. Dean looked at him steadily for an instant, while Kate ran to meet her father. Then she replied earnestly, There will always be room in the old home for you. I only wish that I could hope it would always hold you. End of Chapter 13 Mr. Underwood been appropriated by Mr. Walcott, while the third, communicating with the second, and opening directly upon the street, was now fitted up for Daryl's occupancy. The carpets and much of the original furnishing of the room still remained, but in the preparation of Daryl's room, Kate Underwood and her aunt made numerous trips in their carriage between the offices and the pines, with the result that when Daryl took possession, many changes had been affected. Heavy curtains separated the portion of the room in which the laboratory work was to be done, from that to be used as a study, and to the latter there had been added a rug or two, a bookcase in which Daryl could arrange his small library of scientific works, a cabinet of mineralogical specimens, and a pair of paintings intended to conceal some of time's ravages on the one's finely decorated walls, while palms and blooming plants transformed the large plate glass windows into bars of fragrance and beauty, at the same time forming a screen from the two inquisitive eyes of Passage Pie. Justice Daryl was completing the arrangement of his effects, Mr. Underwood and his partner sauntered into the room from their apartments. Within a few feet of the door Mr. Underwood came to a stop, his hands deep in his trousers' pockets, his square chin thrust aggressively forward, while with a face unreadable as granite, his keen eyes scanned every detail in the room. Mr. Walcott, on the contrary, made the entire circuit of the room, his hands carelessly clasped behind him, his head thrown well back, his every step characterised by a graceful, undulatory motion, like the movements of the Filene tribe. Hmm! was Mr. Underwood's soul common when he had finished his survey of the room. Mr. Walcott turned towards his partner with a smile. Mr. Daryl is evidently prime favourite with the ladies, he remarked pleasantly. Well, they don't want to try any of their prime favourite business on me, retorted Mr. Underwood, as he slowly turned and left the room. Both young men laughed, and Walcott, with an easy nonchalant air, seated himself near Daryl. I find the old gentleman has a keen sense of humour, he said, still smiling, but some of his jokes are inclined to be a little ponderous at times. His humour generally lies along the lines of Sarkas, Daryl replied. Ah! something of a cynic, is he? No, said Daryl, he has too kind a heart to be cynical, but he is very fond of concealing it by Sarkas and brusqueness. He is quite original and unique in his way. I find him really a much more agreeable man than I anticipated. You have very pleasant quarters here, Mr. Daryl. I should judge you intended this as a sort of study as well as an office. I do intend it so. Probably for a while I shall do more studying than anything else, as it may be some time before I get any assaying. I think we can probably throw quite a bit of work your way, as we frequently have inquiries from some of our clients wanting something in that line. Walcott, said Mr. Underwood, re-entering suddenly. Chapman is out there. Go and meet him. You can conduct negotiations with him on the terms we agreed upon, but I don't care to figure in the deal. If he asks for me, tell him I'm out. I see, as the ladies say, you are not at home, said Walcott, smiling as he sprang quickly to his feet. Well, Mr. Daryl, he continued, I consider myself fortunate in having you for so near a neighbour, and I trust that we shall prove good friends and our relations mutually agreeable. Daryl's dark penetrating eyes looked squarely into the half-closed smiling ones, which met his glance for an instant, then wavered and dropped. I know of no reason why we should not be friends, he replied quietly, knowing he could say that much with all candour, yet feeling that friendship between them was an utter impossibility, and that of this Walcott was as conscious as was he himself. Well, my boy, said Mr. Underwood, seating himself before Daryl's desk. I guess it was a good thing you took the old man's advice for once. I don't know where you would find better quarters than these. Daryl smiled. As to following your advice, Mr. Underwood, you didn't even give me a chance. You suggested my taking one of these rooms, and then gave orders on your own responsibility for my paraphernalia to be deposited here, and there was nothing left for me to do but to settle down. However, he added, laying some money on the desk before Mr. Underwood. I have no complaint to make. Just kindly receipt for that. Receipt for this? What do you mean? What is it anyway? exclaimed Mr. Underwood in a bewildered tone. It is the month's rent in advance according to your custom. Rent, Mr. Underwood ejaculated, now thoroughly angry. What do I want of rent from you? Can't you let me be a friend to you? Time and time again I've tried to help you, and you wouldn't have it. Now I'll give you a warning, young man. That one of these days you'll go a little too far in this thing, and then you'll have to look somewhere else for friends. For when I'm done with a man, I'm done with him forever. Mr. Underwood said Daryl with dignity. You are yourself going too far at this moment. You know I do not refuse favors from you personally. Do I not consider your home mine? Have I ever offered you compensation for anything that you or your sister have done for me? But this is a different affair altogether. Different I'd like to know wherein. Mr. Underwood, if in addition to your kindness you personally offered me the use of this room gratis, I might accept it, but I will accept no favors from the firm of Underwood and Walcott. I don't see what different that needs make, Mr. Underwood retorted. He sat silently studying Daryl for a few moments, but the latter's face was as unreadable as his own. What have you got against that fellow? He asked at length curiously. I have nothing whatever against him, Mr. Underwood, but you're not friendly to him. Daryl remained silent. He is friendly to you, continued Mr. Underwood. He has talked with me considerably about you and takes quite an interest in you and in your success. Possibly, Daryl answered dryly, but you will oblige me by not talking of me to him. I have nothing against Mr. Walcott. I am neither friendly nor unfriendly to him, but he is a man to whom I do not wish to be under any obligations whatsoever. In vain, Mr. Underwood argued. Daryl remained obdurate, and when he left the office a little later, he carried with him the receipt of Underwood and Walcott for office rent. Daryl's reputation as an expert, which he had already established at the mining camp soon reached offer, with the result that he was not long without work in the new office. For a time he devoted his leisure hours to unremitting study. The brief but intense summer season of the high altitudes was now well advanced, however, and in its stifling heat, amid the noise of the busy little city and constantly subjected to interruptions, his scientific studies and researches lost half that charm. And in proportion as they lost their power to interest him, the home of the mountainside beyond reach of the city-seat and dust and clamor drew him with increasing and irresistible force. Never before had it seemed to him so attractive, so beautiful, so home-like as now. He did not stop to ask himself wherein its new charm consisted or to analyze the sense of relief and gladness with which he turned his face homeward when the day's work was ended. He only felt vaguely that the silent, undemonstrative love which the old place had so long held for him had suddenly found expression. It smiled to him from the flowers nodding gaily to him as he passed. It echoed in the tinkling music of the fountains. The murmuring pines whispered it to him as the fragrant breath fanned his cheek. But more than all, he read it in the brown eyes which drew luminous with welcome at his approach and heard it in the low sweet voice whose wonderful modulations were themselves more eloquent than words. And with this interpretation of the strange new joy day by day permitting his whole life, he went his way in deep content. And to Kate Underwood this summer seemed the brightest and the fairest of all the summers of her young life, why she could not have told except that the skies were bluer, the sunlight more golden, and the birds sang more joyously than ever before. In a mining town like Ophir there was comparatively little society for her so that most of her evenings were spent at home, and she and Daryl were of necessity thrown much together. Sometimes he joined her in a game of tennis, a ride or drive or a short mountain ramble. Sometimes he sat on the veranda with the elder couple, listening while she played and sang. But more often their voices blended, while the wild plaintive notes of the violin rose and fell on the evening air, accompanied by the piano or by the guitar or mandolin. Together they watched the sunsets or walked up and down the mountain terrors in the moonlight, enjoying to the full the beauty around them, neither as yet dreaming that more than their joy in the bloom and beauty and fragrance, in the music of the fountains or the murmuring voices of the pines, in the sunsets glory or the moonlight's mystical radiance, above all, deeper than all, pervading all was their joy in each other. Hers was a nature essentially childlike, his very infirmity rendered him in experience less than a child, and so devoid of worldly wisdom, like hers first pair of lovers, without knowledge of good or evil, all unconsciously they entered their Eden. One sultry Sunday afternoon they sat within the vine-clad veranda, the strains of the violin and guitar blending on the languorous perfumed air, as the last notes died away Kate exclaimed, I never had any one accompanying me who played with so much expression, you give me an altogether different conception of a piece of music, you seem to make it full of new meaning. And why not, Darell inquired, music is a language of itself capable of infinitely more expression than our spoken language. Who is speaking then when you play as you did just now, the soul of the musician or your own? The musicians, I'm only the interpreter, the more perfect the harmony or sympathy between his soul as expressed in the music and mine, the truer will be the rendering I give. A fine elocutionist will reveal the beauties of a classic poem to hundreds who of themselves might never have understood it, but the poem is not his, he's only the poet's interpreter. If you call that piece of music, which you have just rendered only an interpretation, Kate answered in a low tone, I only wish that I could for once hear your own soul speaking through the violin. Darell's mind. Do you really wish it? he asked after a pause, looking into the wistful brown eyes. I do. She was seated in a low hammock, swinging gently to and fro. He sat at a little distance from her feet, on the topmost of the broad stairs, his back against one of the large vine-red columns, duke stretch full length beside him. A slight breeze stirred the flower-sendidare and set the pines whispering for a moment. Then all was silent. With eyes half closed, Darell raised the violin and, drawing the bow softly across the strings, began one of his own improvisos. The exquisite piercing sweetness of the first notes swelling with an indescribable pathos, until Kate could scarcely restrain a cry of pain. Higher and higher their sword, until above the clouds they poised lightly for an instant, then descended in a flood of liquid harmonies, which alternately rose and fell, sometimes tremulous with hope, sometimes moaning in low undertones of grief, never despairing, but always with the same heart-rending pathos, always voicing the same unutterable longing. Unmindful of his surroundings, his whole soul absorbed in the music Darell played on, till, as the strings sank to a minor undertone, he heard a stifled sob followed by a low wine from duke. He glanced towards Kate, and the music ceased instantly. Unobserved by him, she had left the hammock, and was seated opposite himself, listening as though entranced, her lips quivering, her eyes shining with unshed tears, while due, alone by what he considered signs of evident distress, looked anxiously from her to Darell, as though entreating his health. Why, my dear child, what is the matter? Darell exclaimed, moving quickly to her side. Oh! she cried picturesly. How could you stop so suddenly? It was like snapping a beautiful golden thread, and burying her face in her hands, her whole frame shook with sobs. Darell somewhat alarmed himself, lay his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her. In a moment she raised her head, the tear dropped still glistening on her cheeks, and a long golden lashes. It was childish in me to give way like that, she said, with a smile that reminded Darell of the sun shining through a summer shower. But oh! that music! It was the saddest and the sweetest I ever heard. It was breaking my heart, and yet I could have listened to it forever. It was my fault, said Darell regretfully. I should not have played so long, but I always forget myself when playing that way. Kate's face grew suddenly grave and serious. Mr. Darell, she said hesitatingly, I have thought very often about the sad side of your life, since your illness, you know, but I never realized till now the terrible loneliness of it all. She paused as though uncertain how to proceed. Darell's face had in turn become grave. Did the violin tell you that? He asked gently. She nodded silently. Yes, it has been lonely, inexpressibly so, he said unconsciously using the past tense, but I had no right to cause you this suffering by inflicting my loneliness upon you. Do not say that, she replied quickly. I am glad that you told me, in the way you did, glad not only that I understand you better and can better sympathize with you, but also because I believe you can understand me as no one else has. For one reason why the music affected me so much was that it seemed the expression of my own feelings, of my hunger for sympathy all these years. Have there been shadows in your life then too? It looked to be all sunshine, Darell said, his face growing tender as he saw the teardrops falling. Yes, it would seem so, with this beautiful home and all that papa does for me, and sometimes I'm afraid I'm ungrateful. But oh, Mr. Darell, if you could have known my mother, you would understand. She was so different from papa and auntie, and she loved me so. And it seems as though since she died I've had nobody to love me. I suppose papa does in a fashion, but he's too busy to show it, or else he doesn't know how, and Aunt Marcia, well, you know, she's good as she can. But if she loved you, you would never know it. I wondered sometimes if poor mama didn't die just for want of love. It has seemed lots of times as though I would. Poor little girl, said Darell pittingly. He understood now the wistful, appealing look of the brown eyes. He intended to say something expressive of sympathy, but the right words would not count. He could think of nothing that did not sound stilted and formal. Almost unconsciously he laid his hand with a tender caress on the slender little white hand lying near him, much as he would have laid it on a wounded bird, and just as unconsciously the little hand nestled contentedly like a bird within his class. A few days later Darell heard from Walcott the story of Harry Whitcomb's love for his cussing. It had been reported, Walcott said, in low tones, as though imparting a secret, that young Whitcomb was hopelessly in love with Miss Underwood, but that she seemed rather indifferent to his attentions. It was thought, however, that the old gentleman had favoured the match, as he had given his nephew an interest in his mining business, and had the latter lived and proved himself a good financier. It was believed that Mr. Underwood would in time have bestowed his daughter upon him. Darell listened silently, of young Whitcomb, of his death, and of his own part in that sad affair he had often heard, but no mention of anything of this nature. He sat lost in thought. Of course, you know how sadly the romance ended, Walcott continued, wondering somewhat at Darell's silence. I have understood that you were a witness of young Whitcomb's tragic death. I know from here, say, that is all, Darell replied quietly. I have heard the story a number of times. Walcott expressed great surprise. Hiring me, Mr. Darell, for referring to the matter, I had heard something regarding the peculiar nature of your malady, but I had no idea it was so marked as that. Is it possible that you had no recollection of that affair? None whatever, Darell answered briefly, as though we did not care to discuss the matter. How strange! One would naturally have supposed that anything so terrible, so shocking to the sensibilities, would have left an impression on your mind never to have been effaced. But I fear the subject is unpleasant to you, Mr. Darell. Pardon me for having alluded to it. The conversation turned, but Darell could not banish the subject from his thoughts. Kate had often spoken to him of her cousin, but never as a lover. He recalled his portrait at the pines, the frank boyish face with its winning smile, a bonnie lover surely. Had she or had she not, he wondered, learned to reciprocate his love before the tragic ending came, and if not, did she now regret it? He watched her that evening, fearing to broach a subject so delicate, but pondering long and deeply, he at last rallied him on his unusual seriousness, and he told her what he had heard. Yes, she said in reply, Harry loved me, or thought he did, though he was like the others. He did not understand me any better than they, but he had always been just like a brother to me, and I could never have loved him in any other way, and I told him so. Papa said I would learn in time, and I think perhaps he would have insisted upon it if Harry had lived. I was sorry I couldn't care for him as he wished. He thought I would after a while, but I never could, for I think that kind of love is far different from all others. Don't you, Mr. Darell? And Darell, looking from the mountainside where they were standing out into the deep blue spaces where the stars, one by one, were gliding into sight, answered reverently, as far above all others as the heaven is high above the earth. To him at that instant love, the love that should exist between two who, out of earth's millions, have chosen each the other, seemed something as yet remote, a sacred temple whose golden dome, like some mystic shrine, gleam from afar, but into which he might someday enter, unaware that he already stood within its outer court. End of Chapter 14 Red by Lars Rolander Chapter 15 of At the Time Appointed This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, reading by Lars Rolander. At the Time Appointed by A. Maynard Barbour, Chapter 15 The Awakening As Darell was returning home one evening, some ten days later, he heard Kate's rippling laughter and sounds of unusual merriment, and, on coming out into view of the house, beheld her engaged in executing a waltz on the veranda, with Duke as a partner. The latter, in his effort to oblige his young mistress, and at the same time preserve his own dignity, presented so ludicrous a spectacle that Darell was unable to restrain his visibility. Hearing his peals of laughter and finding herself discovered, Kate rather hastily released her partner, and the colleague, glad to be once more permitted the use of forefeet, bounded down the steps to give Darell his customary welcome, his mistress following slowly with somewhat heightened color. Darell at once apologized for his hilarity, pleading as an excuse Duke's comical appearance. We both must have made a ridiculous appearance, she replied, but as Duke seems to have forgiven you, I suppose I must, and I think I had better explain such undignified conduct on my part. Auntyus just told me that she's going to give a grand reception for me two weeks from today, or really two of them, for there is to be an afternoon reception from three until six for her acquaintances, with a few young ladies to assist me in receiving, and then in the evening I am to have a reception of my own. We are going to send nearly two hundred invitations to Galina, besides our friends here. Papa is going to have the ballroom on the top floor fitted up for the occasion, and we are to have an orchestra from Galina, and all together it will be quite the event of the season. Now, do you wonder, she added, actually, that I seized hold of the first object that came in my way, and started out for a waltz? Not in the least, Darell answered, his dark eyes full of merriment. I only wish I had been fortunate enough to have arrived a little earlier. Her mischievous response to his challenge sparkled in Kate's eyes for a moment, but she only replied demurely. You shall have your opportunity later. When? Two weeks from tonight. Ah, am I to be honoured with an invitation? Most assuredly you will be invited, Kate replied quietly, then added shyly, and I myself invite you personally, here and now, and that is honouring you as no other guest of mine will be honoured. Thank you, he replied gently, with one of his tender smiles. I accept the personal imitation for your sake. She was standing on the top most stair slightly above him, one hand toying with a spray of blossoms, depending from the vines above her head. With a swift movement, Darell caught the little hand, and was in the act of carrying it to his lips, when it suddenly slipped from his grasp, and its owner as quickly turned and disappeared. Darell seated himself with a curious expression. It was not the first time Kate had eluded him thus within the last few days. He had missed of late certain pleasant little familiarities and light tender caresses to which he had become accustomed, and he began to wonder at this change in his child companion as he regarded her. What has come over the child, he sawly loquist. Two weeks ago, if I had given her a challenge for her waltz, she would have taken me up, but lately she is as demure as a little nun. We will have to give it up, won't we, Duke old boy? He continued addressing the cally, whose intelligent eyes were fastened on his face with a shrewd expression, as though aware of the trend of Darell's thoughts, he too considered his beloved young mistress rather incomprehensible. The ensuing days were so crowded with preparations for the coming event, and with such constant demands upon Kate's time, that Darell seldom saw her except at meals, and opportunities for anything like their accustomed pleasant interchange of confidence were few and far between. On those rare occasions, however, when he succeeded in meeting her alone, Darell could not but be impressed by the subtle and to him inexplicable change in her manner. She seemed in some way so remotely removed from the young girl, who, but a few days before, in response to the violin's tale, had confided to him the loneliness of her own life. A shy, sweet, but impenetrable reserve seemed to have replaced the childlike familiarity. Her eyes still brightened with welcome at his approach, but the light was quickly veiled beneath drooping lids, and through the cadences of her low tones, he caught at times the vibration of a new chord, to whose meaning his ear was as yet unattuned. He did not know, nor did any other, that within that short time she had learned her own heart's secret. Child that she was, she had met love face to face, and in that once with burning glance of recognition, the womanhood within her had expanded as the bud expands, bursting its imprisoning callix under the ardent glance of the sun. But Darell, seeing only the effect and knowing nothing of the cause, was vaguely troubled. On the day of the reception, both Mr. Underwood and Darell lunged and dined downtown, returning together to the pines in the interim between the afternoon and evening entertainment. As Darell sprang from the carriage and ran up the stairs, the servants were already turning on the lights temporarily suspended within the veranda and throughout the grounds, so that the place seemed transformed into a bit of fairyland. He heard chatter and laughter, and caught glimpses of young ladies, special guests from out of town, fleeting from room to room, but Kate was nowhere to be seen. Going to his room he quickly donned an evening suit, not omitting a dainty boutonniere awaiting him on his dressing-case, and betook himself to the libraries across the hall, where by previous arrangement Kate was to call for him when it was time to go downstairs. From below came the ceaseless hum of conversation, the constant ripple of laughter mingled with bits of song and the occasional strains of a waltz. Greeding was out of the question. Sinking into the depths of a large armchair, Darell was soon lost in dreamy reverie, from which he was roused by his light sound. Looking up, he saw framed in the arched doorway between the two rooms a vision, like and yet so unlike the maiden for whom he waited, and who had occupied his thoughts but a moment before that he gazed in silent astonishment, uncertain whether it were a reality or part of his dreams. For a moment the silence was unbroken, then how do you like my gown? said the vision demurely. Darell sprang to his feet and approached slowly, a new consciousness dawning in his soul, a new light in his eyes. Of the style or texture over gown, a filmy, gleaming mass of white, he knew absolutely nothing. He only knew that its clinging softness revealed in new beauty, the rounded outlines of her form, that its snowy sheen set off the exquisite molding of her neck and arms, that its long shimmering folds accentuated the height and grace of her slender figure, but a knowledge had come to him in that moment like a revelation, stunning, bewildering him, thrilling his whole being, irradiating every liniment of his face. I know very little about Lady's dress, he said apologetically, and I fear I may express myself rather bunglingly, but to me the chief beauty of your gown consists in the fact that it reveals and enhances the beauty of the wearer. In that sense I consider it very beautiful. Thank you, Kate replied with a low sweeping courtesy to conceal the blushes which she felt mantling her cheeks, not so much at his words at that what she read in his eyes. That is the most delicate compliment I ever heard. I know I shall not receive another so delicious this whole evening and to think of prefacing it with an apology. I am glad to hear that voice, said Dorell, possessing himself a one little gloved hand and surveying his companion critically from the charmingly coiffed head to the dainty white slipper peeping from beneath her skirt. The voice and the eyes seem about all that is left of the little girl I had known and loved. She regarded him silently with a gracious little smile, but with deepening color and quickening pulse. He continued, she has seemed different of late somehow. She has eluded me so often I have felt as though she were in some way slipping away from me, and now I fear I have lost her all together. How is it? Dorell gently raised the sweet face so that he looked into the clear depths of the brown eyes. Tell me, Katie, dear, has she drifted away from me? For an instant the eyes were hidden under the curling lashes. Then they lifted as she replied with an enigmatic smile. Not so far, but that you may follow if you choose. Dorell bowed his head and his lips touched the golden brown hair. Sweet heart, he said in low tones, scarcely above a whisper. I follow. If I overtake her, what then? Will I find her the same as in the past? Her heart was beating widely with a new strange joy. She longed to get away by herself and tasted sweetness to the full. The same, and yet not the same, she answered slowly. Then, before he could say more, she added lightly as a wave of laughter was born upward from the parlours. But I came to see if you were ready to go downstairs. Ought we not to join the others? As you please, he replied, stooping to pick up the program she had dropped. Are the guests arriving yet? No, it's still early. But I want to introduce you to my friends. Oh, yes, my program. Thanks. That reminds me. I'm going to ask you to put your name down for two or three waltzes, you know, she added smiling. I promised you two weeks ago some waltzes for this evening, so take your choice. For an instant Dorell hesitated, and the old troubled look returned to his face. You are very kind, he said slowly, and I appreciate the honour, but it has just occurred to me that really I'm not at all certain regarding my proficiency in that line. Kate understood his dilemma. They had reached the hall. Someone was at the piano below, and the strains of her dreamy walls floated through the rooms. I haven't a doubt of your proficiency myself, she replied with a confident smile. But if you would like a test, here is a good opportunity, and she glanced up and down the vacant but brightly lighted corridor. Dorell needed no second hint, and almost before she was aware they were gliding over the floor. To Kate, intoxicated with her new found joy, it seemed as though she were born alone on the waves of the music without effort or volition of her own. She dared not trust herself to speak. Once or twice she raised her eyes to meet the dark ones whose gaze she felt upon her face, but the love-light shining in their dips overpowered her glance, and she turned her eyes away. She knew that he had seen and recognized the woman, and that as such, and not as a child, he loved her, and for the present this knowledge was happiness enough. And Dorell was silent, still bewildered by the twofold revelation which had so suddenly come to him, the revelation of the lovely womanhood at his side, to which he had until now been blind, and of the love within his own heart, of which till now he had been unconscious. Before they had completed two turns up and down the corridor, the music ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Oh, that was heavenly! It seemed like a dream, Kate exclaimed with a sigh. It seemed a very blessed bit of reality to me, Dorell laughed in return, drawing her arm within his own as they proceeded towards the stairs. You are a superb dancer, now you certainly can have no scruples about claiming some waltzes, Kate replied, with drawing her arm and again placing her program in his hands. As they paused at the head of the stairs while Dorell complied with her request, a chorus of voices was heard in the hall below. Kate, are you never coming? Someone called, and a sprightly brunette appeared for an instant on the first landing, but vanished quickly at sight of Dorell. Girls, they heard her exclaim to the merry group below. Would you believe it? She is taking a base advantage of us. She has discovered what we did not suppose existed in this house, a young man, and is getting her program filled in advance. Christ of all, Kate, that's not fair, followed. Kate leaned laughingly over the balustrade. He is an angel of a dancer, girls, she called, but I'll promise not to monopolize him. Dorell returned the program, saying as they passed down the stairs together. I didn't want to appear selfish, so I only selected three, but give me more if you can later. Kate smiled. I think, she replied, you will speedily find yourself in such demand that I will consider myself fortunate to have secured those three, but she added shyly, as her eyes met his. My first waltz was with you, and that was just as I intended it should be. Through the hours which followed so swiftly, Dorell was in a sort of waking dream, a state of superlative happiness, unmarred as yet by phantoms from the shrouded past, or misgivings as to the dim, uncertain future. Past and future were for the time alike forgotten, one image dominated his mind, the form and face of the fair young hostess moving among her guests as a queen amid her court, carrying her daintly poised head as though conscious of the twofold royal crown of womanhood and woman's love. One thought urged continuously through and through his brain, that she was his, his by the sovereign right of love. Whatever courtesy she showed to others was for her sake, because they were her guests, her friends, and when unengaged he stationed himself in some quiet corner or dimly lighted alcohol, where unobserved he could watch her movements with a rhythmic grace or catch the music of her voice, the sight or sound thrilling him with joy, so exquisite as to be aching to pain. The oft-repeated compliments of the crowd about him seemed to him empty, trite, meaningless. What could they know of her real beauty compared with himself who saw her through love's eyes? As he stood thus alone in a deep bay window, shaded by giant palms, someone paused beside him. Our little debutante has surpassed herself tonight, she is fairest of the fair. Darrell turned to see at his side wall-cott, faultlessly tired, elegant, nonchalant, a half-smile playing about his lips, as through half-closed eyes he watched the dancers. Instantly all the antagonism in Darrell's nature rose against the man, strife as he might, he was powerless to subdue it. There was no trace of it in his voice, however, as he answered quietly. Miss Underwood certainly looks very beautiful tonight. She has matured marvelously of late, continued the other in low pleasant tones. Her development within the past few weeks has been remarkable, but that is to be expected in women of her style, and this is but the beginning. Mark my words, Mr. Darrell. Wall-cott faced his auditor with a smile. Miss Underwood's beauty tonight is but the pale shining of a taper beside one of those light's jaundre, compared with what it will be a few years hence. Are you aware of that? It had not occurred to me, Darrell replied, with studded carness, for the conversation was becoming distasteful to him. Look at her now, said Wall-cott bowing, and smiling as Kate floated past them, but regarding her with a scrutiny that aroused Darrell's quick resentment. Very fair, very lovely, I admit but a trifle too slender, a little too colorless, too neutral as it were. A few years will change all that. You will see her a woman of magnificent proportions, and with a cold neutral tints replaced by warmth and color. I have made a study of women, and I know that class well. Five or ten years from now she will be simply superb, and at the age when ordinary women lose their power to charm, she will only be in the scenic of her beauty. The look and tone accompanying the words filled Darrell with indignation and disgust. You will have to excuse me, he said coldly. You seem, as you say, to have made a study of women from your own standpoint, but our standards of beauty differ so radically that further discussion of the subject is useless. Ah, well, every man according to his taste, of course, Walcott remarked indifferently, and turning lightly he walked away, a faint gleam of amusement lighting his dark features. Half an hour later, as Darrell glided over the floor with Kate, some irresistible force drew his glance towards the bay window, where, within the shadow of the palms, Walcott was now standing alone, suave as ever. Their eyes met for an instant only, and Walcott smiled. The dance went on, but the smile like a poisoned shaft entered Darrell's soul and rankled there. Both Darrell and Walcott were marked men that night and attracted universal attention and comment. Darrell's pale intellectual face, penetrating eyes and dark hair already streaked with gray, would have attracted attention anywhere, as would also Walcott with his olive skin, his cynical smile, and graceful, sinuous movement. In addition, Darrell's peculiar mental condition and the fact that his identity was enveloped in a degree of mystery rendered him doubly interesting. In the case of each, this was his introduction to the social life of Offere. Each had been a resident of the town, the one as a student and recluse, the other as a businessman, but each was a stranger to the stratum known as society. Each held himself aloof that evening from the throng, the one through natural reserve, courteous but indifferent to the passing crowd, the other alert, watchful, studying the crowd, weighing, gorging this new element, speculating whether or not it were worth his while to court its favor, whether or not he could make of it any ally for his own future advantage. Soon after his arrival, Walcott had begged of Kate Underwood the honor of the walls, but her program being then nearly filled, she could only give him one well towards the end. As he intended to render himself conspicuous by dancing only once, and then with the bell of the evening, it was at quite a late hour when he first made his appearance on the floor. Kate was on his arm, and at that instant his criticism made earlier in the evening that she was too colorless certainly could not have applied. As he led her out upon the floor, he bent his gaze upon her with a look which brought the color swiftly to her face in crimson waves that flooded the full snow-white throat and, searching upward, reached even to the blue-veined temples. Instinctively she shrank from him with a sensation almost of fear, but something in his gaze held her as though spellbound. She looked into his eyes like one fascinated, scarcely knowing what he said or what reply she made. The walls began, and as their fingers touched, Kate's nerves tingled as though from an electric shock. She shivered slightly, then angry with herself, used every exertion to overcome the strange spell. To a great extent she succeeded, but she felt benumbed as though moving in a dream or in obedience to some will stronger than her own, while her temples throbbed painfully and her respiration grew horrid and difficult. She grew dizzy, but pride came to her rescue, and, except for the color which now ran riot in her cheeks and a slight tremor through her frame, there was no hint of her agitation. Her partner was all that could be desired, guiding her through the circling crowds and supporting her in the swift turns with the utmost grace and courtesy. But it was a relief when it was over. At her request, Walcott escorted her to a seat near her aunt, then smilingly withdrew with much inward self-congratulation. At that moment, Tyrell, seeing Kate unengaged, hastened to her side. You look warm and the air here is oppressive, he said, observing her flushed face, and fanning her gently. Shall we go outside for a few moments? Yes, please, anywhere out of this heat and glare, she answered. My temples throb as if they would burst, and my face feels as though it were on fire. Tyrell hastened to the hall, returning an instant later with a light wrap, which he proceeded to throw about Kate's shoulders. You are tired, Catherine, said Mrs. Dean, more tired than you realize now. You would better not dance any more tonight. I have but two more dances, Aunty, the young girl answered, smiling. You surely would not wish me to forego those, adding in a lower tone as she turned towards Tyrell. One of them is your walls, and I would not miss that for anything. They passed through the hall and out upon a broad balcony. They could hear the subdued laughter of couples strolling through the brightly lighted grounds below, while over the distant landscape shown the pale, weird light of the waning moon, just rising in the east. None of the guests had discovered the balcony opening from the hall on the third floor, so they had it exclusively to themselves. As Tyrell drew Kate's arm closer within his own, he was surprised to feel her trembling slightly, while the hand lying on his own was cold as marble. My dear child, he exclaimed, your hands are cold and you are trembling. What is the matter? Are you cold? No, not cold exactly, only shivery, she answered with a laugh. My head was burning up in there, and I feel sort of hot flashes and then a creepy shivering feeling by turns. But I'm not cold out here, really, she added earnestly, as Tyrell drew her wrap more closely about her. Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to stay out here any longer, Tyrell replied, finding his first taste of masculine authority very sweet. For an instant, Kate felt a very feminine desire to put his authority to the test, but the sense of his protection and his solicitude for her welfare seemed particularly soothing just then, and so with only a saucy little smile, she silently allowed him to lead her into the house. At his suggestion, however, they did not return to the ballroom, but passed round through an ante-room, coming out into a small circular apartment, dimly lighted and cosily furnished, opening upon one corner of the ballroom. It strikes me, said Tyrell, as he drew aside the silking hangings, dividing the two rooms, and pushed a low divan before the open space. This would be fully as pleasant as the balcony and much safer. The very thing, Kate exclaimed, sinking upon the divan with a sigh of relief. We will have a fine view of the dancers, and yet be quite secluded ourselves. Aminoette was already in progress on the floor, and for a few moments Kate watched the stately graceful dance, while Tyrell, having adjusted her wrap lightly about her, seated himself beside her, and silently watched her face with deep content. Gradually the throbbing in her temple subsided, the nervous tremor ceased, her colour became natural, and she felt quite herself again. She leaned back against the divan and looked with laughing eyes into Tyrell's face. Mr. Tyrell, do you believe in hypnotism? she suddenly inquired. In hypnotism? Yes, but not in many of those who claim to practice it. Most of them are mere imposters. But why do you ask, he continued, drawing her head down upon his shoulder, and looking playfully into her eyes. Are you trying to hypnotize me? Kate laughed merrily and shook her head. I'm afraid I wouldn't find you a good subject, she said, then added slowly as her face grew serious. Do you know? I believe I was hypnotized, tonight, by that dreadful Mr. Walcott. He certainly cast a melin spell of some kind over me, from the moment we went on the floor together till he left me. Why do you say that, Tyrell asked quickly? You know, I did not see you on the floor with him, for Miss Stockton asked me to go with her for a promenade. We came back just as the walls had ended, and Mr. Walcott was escorting you to your aunt. I noticed that you seemed greatly fatigued, and excused myself to Miss Stockton, and came over at once. What had happened? Kate related what had occurred. I can't give you any idea of it, she said in conclusion. It seemed unaccountable, but it was simply dreadful. You know, his eyes are nearly always closed in that peculiar way of his. And really, I don't think I had any idea how they looked. But tonight, as he looked at me, they were wide open. And do you know? I can't describe them, but they looked so soft and melting, they were beautiful, and yet there was something absolutely terrible in their depths. It seemed some way like looking down into a volcano. And the worst of it was, they seemed to hold me. I couldn't take my eyes from his. He was as kind and courteous as could be. I'll admit that, but even the touch of his fingers made me shiver. Tarell's face had darkened during Kate's recital, but he controlled his anger. Now, was that due to my own imagination, or to some uncanny spell of his, Kate insisted? To neither folly, and yet perhaps a little of each, Tarell answered lightly, not wishing to alarm her or lead her to attach undue importance to the occurrence. I think Mr. Walcott has an abnormal amount of conceit, and that most of those little mannerisms of his are mainly to attract attention to himself. He was probably trying to produce some sort of an impression on your mind, and to that extent he certainly succeeded. Only the impression does not seem to have been as favorable as he perhaps would have wished. No one but a conceited cad would have attempted such a thing, and with your super-sensitive nature the effect on you was anything but pleasant. But don't allow yourself to think about it, or be annoyed by it. At the same time I would advise you not to place yourself in his power, or where he could have any advantage of you. By the way, this is our waltz, is it not? It is, Kate replied, rising and watching Tarell as he removed her wrap, and prepared to escort her to the ballroom. His playful bandinage had not deceived her. As she took his arm, she said in a low tone, You affect to treat this matter rather lightly, but all the same, you have warned me against this man. Forewarned is forearmed, you know, and no man can ever attempt to harm me or mine with impunity. Tarell turned quickly in surprise. There was a quality in her tone fully unfamiliar. But I fear you exaggerate what I intended to convey, he said hastily. I do not know that he would ever deliberately seek to harm you, but he might render himself obnoxious in some way as he did tonight. She shook her head. I was taken off guard tonight, she said, but he had best never attempt anything of the kind a second time. They were now waiting for the waltz to begin. She continued in the same low tone. I have had a Western girl's education. When I was a child, this place was little more than her rough mining camp, with plenty of desperate characters. My father trained me as he would have trained a boy. And, she added significantly with a bright proud smile, I am just as proficient now as I was then. Tarell scarcely heeded the import of her words, so struck was she by the change in her face, which had suddenly grown wonderfully like her father's, stern, impassive, unrelenting. She smiled and the look vanished, and for the time he thought no more of it, but as the passing cloud sometimes reveals features in a landscape unnoticed in the sunlight, so it had disclosed a face of character latent, unguessed even by those who knew her best. Two hours later the last carriage had gone, the guests from out of town who were to remain at the pines for the night had retired, and darkness and silence had gradually settled over the house. A light still burned in Mr. Underwood's private room, where he paced back and forth. His brows knit in deep thought, but his stern face lighted with a smile of intense satisfaction. Tarell who had remained below to assist Mrs. Dean in the performance of a few last duties, having accompanied her in a final tour of the deserted rooms to make sure that all was safe, made her good night, and went upstairs. To his surprise Kate's library was still lighted, and through the open door he could see her at her desk writing. She looked up on hearing his step, and as he approached rose and came to the door. She had exchanged her evening gown for a dainty, robe to charm of white cashmere and lace, and standing there against the background of mellow light, her hair coiled low on her neck, while numerous intractable locks curled about her ears and temples. It was small wonder that Tarell's eyes bespoke his admiration and love, even if his lips did not. "'Writing at this time of night?' he exclaimed. "'We supposed you sleep long ago.' "'Shh! Don't speak so loud!' she protested. "'You'll have Aunt Marcia up here. I have nearly finished my writing, so you needn't scold.' Glancing at the large journal lying open on her desk, Tarell asked with a quizzical smile. "'Couldn't that have been postponed for a few hours? "'Not tonight,' she replied with emphasis. "'Ordinaryly, you know, it could and would have been postponed. "'Perhaps indefinitely, but not tonight.' She glanced shyly into his eyes, and her own fell as she added in a lower tone. "'Tonight has memories so golden. I want to preserve them before they have been dimmed by even one hour's sleep.' Tarell's face grew marvelously tender. He drew her head down upon his breast while he caressed the rippling hair with its waves of light and shade. "'This night will always have golden memories for me, Katie,' he said, and neither days nor years can ever dim their luster of that I am sure.' Katie raced her head, drawing herself slightly away from his embrace, so that she could look him in the face. "'Katy,' she repeated softly, "'that is the second time you have called me by that name tonight. I never heard it before. Where did you get it?' "'Oh, it came to me,' he said smiling, and somehow it seemed just the name for you. But I'll not call you so unless you like it.' "'I do like it immensely,' she replied. "'I'm tired of Kate and Kitty, and Aunt Marcia's terrible Catherine. I'm glad you're original enough to call me by something different. But it sounds so odd. I wondered if there might have been a Kate in the past.' But she added quickly, "'I must not stay here. I just came out to say good night to you.' "'We had better say good morning,' Daryl laughed, as the clock in the hall below chimed one of the wee small hours. "'Promise me that you will go to rest at once, won't you?' "'Very soon,' she answered smiling, then a sudden impulsiveness conquering her reserve, she exclaimed, "'Do you know? This has been the happiest night of my whole life. I hardly dare go to sleep for fear I will wake up and find it all a dream.' For answer Daryl folded her close to his breast, kissing her hair and brow with passionate tenderness. Then suddenly, neither knew just how their lips met in long lingering rapturous kisses. "'Will that make it seem more real, sweetheart?' He asked in a low voice by brating with emotion. "'Yes, oh yes,' she panted, half frightened by his fervour. "'But let me go, please do.' He released her, only retaining her hands for an instant, which he bent and kissed. Then, bidding her good night, he hastened down the hall to his room. At the door, however, he looked back and saw her still standing where he had left her. She wafted him a kiss on her fingertips and disappeared. Going to her desk, she read with shining eyes and smiling lips the last lines written in her journal. Then dipped her pen as though to write further, hesitated and, closing the book, whispered, "'That is too sacred to entrust even to you. You dear old journal, I shall keep it locked in my own breast.' Then, locking her desk and turning off the light, she stole noiselessly to her room. End of Chapter 15, read by Lars Rolander, Chapter 16 of At the Time Appointed. This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, reading by Lars Rolander. At the time appointed by A. Maynard Barber, Chapter 15, The Aftermath. As Tarell entered his room, its dim solitude seemed doubly grateful after the glare of the crowded rooms he had lately left. His brain whirled from the unusual excitement. He wanted to be alone with his own thoughts, alone with his new overpowering joy, and assure himself of its reality. He seated himself by an open window till the air had cooled his brow, and his brain under the mysterious soothing influence of the night grew less confused. Then, partially disrobing, he threw himself upon his bed to rest, but not to sleep. Again he lived over the last few weeks at the pines, comprehending at last the gracious influence which entering into his barren meagre life had rendered it so inexpressibly rich and sweet and complete. Ah, how blind to have walked day after day hand in hand with love, not knowing that he entertained an angel unawares. And then had followed the revelation when the scales had fallen from his eyes before the vision of lovely maiden womanhood which had suddenly confronted him. He recalled her as she stood awaiting his tardy recognition, recalled her every word and look throughout the evening down to their parting, and again he seemed to hold her in his arms, to look into her eyes, to feel her head upon his breast, her kisses on his lips. But even with the remembrance of those moments, while yet he felt the pressure of her lips upon his own, pure and cool like the dewy petals of a rose at sunrise, there came to him the first consciousness of pain mingled with a rapture, the first dash of bitter in the sweet, as he recalled the question in her eyes and the half whispered. I wondered if there might have been a Katie in the past. The past! How could he for one moment have forgotten that awful shadow overhanging his life, as it suddenly loomed before him in its hideous blackness? Darrell started from his pillow in horror, a cold sweet bursting from every pore. Gradually the terrible significance of it all dawned upon him, the realization of what he had done and of what he must, as best he might undo. It meant the relinquishment of what was sweetest and holiest on earth, just as it seemed within his grasp, the renunciation of all that had made life seem worth living. Darrell buried his face in his hands and groaned aloud. So it was only a mockery, a dream. He recalled Kate's words. I hardly dare go to sleep for fear. I will wake up and find it all a dream. And self-reproach and remorse added their bitterness to his agony. What right had he to bring that bright young life under the cloud overhanging his own, to wreck her happiness by contact with his own misfortune? What would it be for her when she came to know the truth, as she must know it, and how was he to tell her? In his anguish he groaned. God pity us both and be merciful to her. For more than an hour he walked the room, then kneeling by the bed, just as a pale silvery streak appeared along the eastern horizon, he cried. Oh God, leave me not in darkness. Give me some clue to the vanished past, that I may know whether or not I have the right to this most precious of all thine earthly gifts. And burying his face, he strove as never before to pierce the darkness enveloping his brain. Long he knelt there, his hands clenching the bedcloth convulsively, even the muscles of his body tense and rigid under the terrible mental strain he was undergoing, while at times his powerful frame shook with agony. The silvery regions crept upward over the deep blue dome, the star's window to glimmering points of light. Then faded one by one, a rosy flushed tinge the eastern sky, growing and deepening, and the first golden rays were shooting upward from a sea of crimson flame as Darrell rose from his knees. He walked to the window, but even the sunlight seemed to mock him. There was no light for him, no rift in the cloud darkening his path, and with a heavy sigh he turned away. The struggle was not yet over, this was to be a day of battle with himself, and he nerbed himself for the coming ordeal. After a cold bath he dressed and descended to the breakfast room. It was still early, but Mr. Underwood was already at the table, and Mrs. Dean entered a moment later from the kitchen, where she had been giving directions for breakfast for Kate and her guests. Both were shocked at Darrell's haggard face and heavy eyes, but by a forced cheerfulness he succeeded in diverting the scrutiny of the one and the anxious solicitude of the other. Mr. Underwood returned to his paper, and his sister and Darrell had the conversation to themselves. Last night's dissipation proved too much for me, Darrell said playfully in reply to some protest of Mrs. Dean's regarding his light appetite. You don't look fit to go downtown, she exclaimed. You'd better stay at home and help Catherine entertain her guests. I noticed you seemed to be very popular with them last night. I'm afraid I would prove a sorry entertainer, Darrell answered lightly, as he rose from the table. So you will kindly excuse me to Mrs. Underwood and her friends. Aren't you going to wait and write down? Mr. Underwood inquired. Not this morning, Darrell replied. A brisk walk will do me good. And a moment later they heard his firm step on the gravel driveway. Mr. Underwood, having finished his reading of the morning paper, passed it to his sister. Pretty good write-up of last night's affair, he commented as he replaced his spectacles in their case. It's there. I look it up after breakfast. I haven't my glasses now, Mrs. Dean replied. I thought myself that everything passed off pretty well. What did you think of Catherine last night, David? The lines about his mouth deepened as he answered quietly. She'll do, if she's my child. I didn't see any finer than she, and old Stockton's daughter, with all her father's millions, couldn't touch her. I had no idea the child was so beautiful. Mrs. Dean continued. She seemed to come out so unexpectedly some way, just like a flower unfolding. I never was so surprised in my life. I guess the little girl took a good many of them by surprise, judging by appearances. Mr. Underwood remarked a shrewd smile lighting his stern features. Yes, she received a great deal of attention, rejoined his sister. I suppose, she added thoughtfully, she'll have lots of admirers round here now. No, she won't. Mr. Underwood retorted with decision, at the same time pushing back his chair and rising hastily. I'll see to it that she doesn't. If the right man steps up and means business, all right, but I'll have no hangers on or fortune-hunters dawdling about. His sister watched him curiously with a faint smile. You had better advertise for the kind of man you want, she said dryly, and state that none others need apply as a warning to applicants whom you might consider undesirable. Mr. Underwood turned quickly. What are you driving at? He demanded impatiently. I've no time for beating about the bush, and I've no time for explanations, she replied with exasperating calmness. You can think it over at your leisure. With a contemptuous hum, Mr. Underwood let the house. After he had gone, his sister sat for a while in deep thought, then with a sigh rose and went about her accustomed duties. She had been far more keen than her brother to observe the growing intimacy between her niece and Darrell, and she had seen some indications on the previous evening, which troubled her as much on Darrell's account as Kate's, who she had become deeply attached to the young man, and she well knew that her brother would not look upon him with favour as a suitor for his daughter. Meanwhile, Darrell, on reaching the office, found work and study alike impossible. The room seemed narrow and stifling. The medley of sound from the adjoining offices and from the street was distracting. He recalled the companions of his earlier days of pain and conflict, the mountains, and his heart adjourned for the restful silence, for the soothing and uplifting of their solemn presence. Having left a brief note on Mr. Underwood's desk, he closed his office and, leaving the city behind him, started on foot up the familiar canyon road. After a walk of an hour or more, he left the road, and striking into a steep, narrow trail, began the ascent of one of the mountains of the main range. It still lacked a little of midday when he at last found himself on a narrow bench near the summit, in a small grove of pines and furs. He stopped from sheer extortion and looked about him. Not a sign of human life was visible. Not a sound broke the stillness, save an occasional breath of air murmuring through the pines, and the trickling of a tiny rivulet over the rocks, just above where he stood. Going to the little stream, he caught the crystal drops as they fell, quenching his thirst and bathing his heated brow. Then, somewhat refreshed, he braced himself for the inevitable conflict. Slowly he paced up and down the rocky ledge, giving no heed to the passage of time. All his faculties centred upon the struggle between the inexorable demands of conscience, on the one hand, and the insatiate cravings of a newly awakened passion on the other. Veingly he strode to find some middle ground. Gradually, as his brain grew calm, the various courses of action which had at first suggested themselves to his mind appeared weak and cowardly, and the only course open to him was that of renunciation and of self-immolation. With a bitter cry he threw himself face downward upon the ground. A long time he lay there, till at last the peace from the great pitting heart of nature touched his heart, and he slept on the warm bosom of Mother Earth as a child on its mother's breast. The sun was sinking towards the western ranges, and slowly lengthening shadows were creeping at worth the distant valleys, when the rail rose to his feet, and after silently drinking in the beauty of the scene about him, prepared to descend. His face portrays of the recent struggle, but it was the face of one who had conquered, whose mastery of himself was beyond all doubt or question. He took the homeward trail with firm step, with head erect, with face set and determined, and there was in his bearing that which indicated that there would be no wavering, no swerving from his purpose. His own hand had closed and bolted the gates of the Eden, whose sweets he had but just tasted, and his conscience held the flaming sword, which was henceforth to guard those portals. A little later, as Darrell in the early twilight passed up the driveway to the pines, he was conscious only of a dull, leaden weight within his breast. His very senses seemed benumbed, and he almost believed himself incapable of further suffering, till, as he approached the house, the sight of Kate seated in the veranda with her father and aunt, and the thought of the suffering yet in store for her, thrilled him anew with most poignant pain. His face was in the shadow as he came up the steps, and only Kate seated near him saw its pallor. She started and would have uttered an exclamation, but something in its expression abed and restrained her. There was a grave tenderness in his eyes as they met hers, but the light and joy which had been there when last she looked into them had gone out, and in their place were dark gloom and despair. She heard as in a dream his answers to the inquiries of her father and aunt, heard him pass into the house, accompanied by her aunt, who had prepared a substantial lunch against his return, and, with a strange sinking at her heart, sat silently awaiting his coming out. It had been a trying day for her. On waking her happiness had seemed complete, but Dorell's absence on that morning of all mornings had seemed to her inexplicable, and when her guests had taken their departure and the long day wore on without his return, and with no message from him, an indefinable dreed haunted her. She had watched eagerly for Dorell's return, believing that one look into his face would banish her forebodings, but instead she had read there only a confirmation of her fears, and now she waited in suspense, longing, yet treading to hear his step. At last he came, and as he faced the light, Kate was shocked at the change which so few hours had wrought. He too was touched by the pictures appeal in her eyes, and there was a rare tenderness in voice and smile as he suggested a stroll through the grounds, according to their custom, which somewhat reassured her. Perhaps Mr. Underwood and his sister had observed the old shadow of gloom in Dorell's face, and surmised something of its course, for their eyes followed the young people in their walk up and down under the pines, and a softened look stole into their usually impassive faces. At last as they passed out of sight on one of the mountain terraces, Mrs. Dean said with slight hesitation, Did it ever occur to you, David, that Catherine and Mr. Dorell are thrown in each other's society a great deal? Mr. Underwood shot a keen glance at his sister from under his heavy brows as he replied, Come to think of it, I suppose they are, though I can't say as I have ever given the matter much thought. Perhaps it is time you did think about it. Come, Marcia, said her brother, good humorately, come to the point. Are you womanlike, sending a love affair in that direction? Mrs. Dean found herself unexpectedly cornered. I don't say that there is, but I don't know what else you could expect of two young folks like them, thrown together constantly as they are. Well, said Mr. Underwood, with an air of comic perplexity, Do you want me to send a rail adrift, or shall I pack pus off to a convent? Now, David, I'm serious, his sister remonstrated mildly. Of course I don't know that anything will come of it. But if you don't want that anything should, I think it's your duty, for Catherine's sake and Mr. Darrell's also, to prevent it. I think too much of them both to see any trouble come to either of them. Mr. Underwood puffed at his pipe in silence, while the gleaming needles in his sister's fingers clicked with monotonous regularity. When he spoke, his tones lacked their usual gruskness, and had an element almost of gentleness. Was this what was in your mind this morning, Marcia? Well, maybe so, his sister sent him. I don't think, Marcia, that I need anyone to tell me my duty, especially regarding my child. I have my own plans for her future, and I will allow nothing to interfere with them. And as for John Darrell, he has the good sterling sense to know that anything more than friendship between him and Kate is not to be thought of for a moment, and I can trust with honour as a gentleman that he will not go beyond it, so I rather think your anxieties are groundless. Perhaps so, his sister answered doubtfully, but young folks are not generally governed much by consents in things of this kind. And then you know, David, Catherine is different from us. She grows more and more like her mother, and if she once got her heart set on anyone, I don't think anybody, even you, could make her change. The muscles of Mr. Underwood's face suddenly contracted as though by acute pain. That will do, Marcia, he said gravely, with a silencing wave of his hand. There is no need to call up the past. I know Kate is like her mother, but she has my blood in her veins also, enough that when the time comes she'll not let any childish sentimentality stand in the way of what I think is for her good. Mrs. Dean silently folded her knitting and rose to go into the house. At the door, however, she paused and, looking back at her brother, said in her low, even tones, I have said my last word of this affair, David, no matter what comes of it. You think you understand Catherine better than I, but you may find some day that it's better to prevent trouble than to try to cure it. Meanwhile Dorell and Kate had reached their favourite seat beneath the pines, and, after one or two futile attempts at talking, had lapsed into a constrained silence. To Kate there came a sudden realization that the merely friendly relations here to four existing between them had been swept away, that henceforth she must either give the man at her side the concentrated affection of her whole being, or should he prove unworthy, she glanced at his haggard face and could not complete the supposition even to herself. He was troubled, and her tender heart longed to comfort him, but his strange appearance held her back. At one word, one sign of love from him, she would have thrown herself upon his breast, and begged to share his burden in true woman fashion, but he was so cold, so distant. He did not even take her hand, as in the careless happy days before either of them thought of love. Kate could endure the silence no longer, and ventured some timid word of loving sympathy. Dorell turned facing her, his dark eyes strangely hollow and sunken. Yes, he said in a low voice, God knows I have suffered since I saw you, but I deserved to suffer for having so far forgotten myself last night. That is not what is troubling me now, it is the thought of the sorrow and wretchedness I have brought into your pure innocent life, that you must suffer for my folly, my wrongdoing. But, in the post, Kate, I don't understand, what wrong have you done? Katey, he answered brokenly, it was all a mistake, a terrible mistake of mine. Can you forgive me? Can you forget? God grant you can. Forgive, forget, she exclaimed in bewildered tones, a mistake! Her voice faltered, and she paused, her face growing deathly pale. I cannot think, he continued, how I came to so forget myself, the circumstances under which I am here, the kindness you and your people have shown me, and the trust they have reposed in me. I must have been beside myself, but I have no excuse to offer, I can only ask your forgiveness, and that I may so far as possible undo what has been done. While he was speaking, she had drawn away from him, and, sitting proudly erect, she scanned his face in the waning light, as though to read there the full significance of his meaning. Her cheeks blanched at his last words, but there was no tremor in her tones, as she replied. I understand you too referred to what occurred last night. Is that what you wish undone? What you would have me forget? I would give words if only it might be undone, he answered, but that is an impossibility. Oh, Katie, I know how monstrous, how cruel this must seem to you, but it is the only honorable course left me after my stupidity, my cursed folly, and believe me, it is far more of a kindness even to you to stop this wretched business right here than to carry it farther. It is not necessary to consider my feelings in the matter, Mr. Durell, if, as you say, you found yourself mistaken to attempt after that to carry on what could only be a mere farce would be simply unpardonable, a mistake I could forgive, a deliberate deception never. The tone so unlike Katie's caused Durell to turn in pain surprise. The deepening shadows hid the white, drawn face and quivering lips. He saw only the motionless slender figure held so rigidly erect. But, Katie, Miss Underwood, you must have misunderstood me, he said earnestly. I have acted foolishly, but in no way falsely. You could not under any circumstances accuse me of deception. I beg your pardon, Mr. Durell, she interposed more gently. I did not intend to accuse you of deception. I only meant that, regardless of any personal feeling, it was, as you said, better to stop this, that to carry it farther after you had found you did not care for me as you supposed, or as I was led to suppose. She paused an instant, uncertain how to proceed. Katie, Katie, what are you saying? Durell exclaimed. What have I said that you should so misunderstand me? But she protested pitchlessly, struggling to control her voice. Did you not say that it was all a mistake on your part, that you wished it all undone? What else could I understand? My poor child, said Durell tenderly, then reaching over and possessing himself a one of her hands, he continued gravely. The mistake was mine in that I ever allowed myself to think of loving you, when love is not for me. I have no right, Katie, to love you or any other woman as I am now. I did not know until last night that I did love you. Then it came upon me like a revelation, a revelation so overwhelming that it swept all else before it. You and you alone filled my thoughts, wherever I was I saw you, heard you, and you only. Again and again in imagination I clasped you to my breast. I felt your kisses on my lips, just as I afterwards felt them in reality. He paused a moment and dropped the hand he had taken. Under cover of the shadows, Katie's tears were falling unchecked. One falling on Durell's hand had warned him that there must be no weakening, no softening. His voice was almost stern as he resumed. For those few hours I forgot that I was a being apart from the rest of the world, excite to darkness and oblivion, forgot the obligations to myself and to others, which my own condition imposes upon me. But the dream passed. I awoke to a realization of what I had done, and whatever I have suffered since is but the just penalty of my folly. The worst of all is that I have involved you in needless suffering. I have won your love only to have to put it aside, to renounce it. But even this is better, far better than to allow your young life to come one step farther within the clouds that envelop my own. Do you understand me now, Katie? Yes, she replied calmly, I understand it from your view as it looks to you. But is it not the only view? She did not speak at once, and when she did, it was with a peculiar deliberation. The clouds will lift one day. What then? Durell's voice trembled with emotion as he replied, We cannot trust to that, for neither you nor I know what the light will reveal. She remained silent, and Durell, after pause, continued, Don't make it harder for me, Katie. There is but one course for us to follow in honor to ourselves or to each other. They sat in silence for a few moments, then both rose simultaneously to return to the house, and as they did so, Durell was conscious of a new bearing in Kate's manner, an added dignity and womanliness. As they faced one another, Durell took both her hands in his saying, What is it to be, Katie? Can we return to the old friendship? She stood for a moment with averted face, watching the stars brightening one by one in the evening sky. No, she said presently, We can never return to that now. It would seem too bare, too meager. There will always be something deeper and sweeter than mere friendship between us, unless you fail me, and I know you will not. And do you forgive me? He asked. She turned then, looking him full in the eyes, and her own seemed to have caught the radiance of the stars themselves, as she answered simply, No, John Durell, for there is nothing to forgive. End of Chapter 16 Red by Lars Rolander