 Chapter 20 of The Eye of Dread. Alone on the Mountain. For the first two days of Harry King's absence, Madame Menoveska relapsed into a more profound melancholy, and the care of her mother took up Amalia's time and thoughts so completely as to give her little for indulging her own anxiety for Harry's safety. Strangely, she felt no fear for themselves, although they were thus alone on the mountaintop. She had a sense of security there, which she had never felt since she had been taken from the convent to share her parents' wanderings. She made an earnest effort to divert and arouse her mother, and succeeded until Madame Menoveska talked much and volubly in Polish and revealed more of the thoughts that possessed her in the long hours of brooding than she had ever told Amalia before. It seemed that she confidently expected the return of the men with her husband, and that the message she had sent by Larry Kildine would surely bring him. The thought excited her greatly, and Amalia found it necessary to keep continual watch lest she wander off down the trail in the direction they had taken and be lost. For a time, Amalia tried to prevent Madame Menoveska from dwelling on the past until she became convinced that to do so was not well, since it only induced the fits of brooding. She then decided to encourage her mother to speak freely of her memories, rather than to keep them locked in her own mind. It was in one of these intervals of talkativeness that Amalia learned the cause of that strange cry that had so pierced her heart and startled her on the trail. They had gone out for a walk, as the only means of inducing her mother to sleep was to let her walk in the clear air until so weary as to bring her to the point of exhaustion. This time they went farther than Amalia really intended, and had left the paths immediately about the cabin and climbed higher up the mountain. Here there was no trail and the way was rough indeed, but Madame Menoveska was in one of her most wayward moods and insisted on going higher and farther. Her strength was remarkable, but it seemed to be a strength of will rather than of body. For all at once she sank down unable to go forward or to return. Amalia led her to the shade of a great gnarled tree, a species of fir, and made her lie down on a bed of stiff coarse moss, and there she pillowed her mother's head on her lap. Whether it was something in the situation in which she found herself or not, her mother began to tell her of a time about which she had hitherto kept silent. It was of the long march through heat and cold over the wildest ways of the earth to Siberia at her husband's side. She told how she had persisted in going with him even at the cost of dressing in the garb of the exiles from the prisons and pretending to be one of the condemned. Only one of the officers knew her secret, who for reasons of humanity or for some other feeling kept silence. She carried her child in her arms, a boy five months old, and was allowed to walk at her husband's side instead of following on with the other women. She told how they carried a few things on their backs and how one and another of the men would take the little one at intervals to help her and how long the marches were when the summer was on the wane and they wished to make as much distance as possible before they were delayed by storms and snow. Then she told how the storms came at last and how her baby fell ill and cried and cried all the time and how they walked in deep snow until one or another fell by the way and never walked farther. She told how some of the weaker ones were finally left behind because they could get on faster without them but that the place where they were left was a terrible one under a cruel man and that her child would surely have died there before the winter was over and that when she persisted in keeping on with her husband they beat her but at last consented on condition that she would leave her baby boy. Then how she appealed to the officer who knew well who she was and that she was not one of the condemned but had followed her husband for love and to intercede for him when he would have been ill-treated and that the man had allowed her to have her way but later had demanded as his reward for yielding to her that she no longer belong to her husband but to him. Looking off at the far ranges of mountains with steady gaze she told of the mountains they had crossed and the rushing terrible rivers and how one day the officer who had been kind only that he might be more cruel had determined to force her to obedience and how he grew very angry, so angry that when they had come to a trail that was well nigh impassable winding around the side of a mountain where was a fearful rushing river far below them and her baby cried in her arms for cold and hunger how he had snatched the child from her and hurled it over the precipice into the swift water and how she had shrieked and struck him and was crazed and remembered no more for days except to call continually on God to send down curses on that officer's head. She told Havv after that they were held at a certain station for a long time but that she was allowed to stay by her husband only because the officer feared the terrible curses she had asked of God to descend on that man that he dared no more touch her. Then Amalia understood many things better than ever before and grew if possible more tender of her mother. She thought how all during that awful time she had been safe and sheltered in the convent and her life guarded and moreover she understood why her father had always treated her mother as if she were higher than the angels and with the courtesy and gentleness of a night errant. He had powed to her slightest wish and no wonder her mother thought that when he received her request to return to her and give up his hope he would surely come to her. More than ever Amalia feared the days to come if she could in no way convince her mother that it was not expedient for her father to return yet. To say again that he was dead she dared not even if she could persuade Madame Munozka to believe it for it seemed to her in that event that her mother would give up all interest in life and die of a broken heart. But from the first she had not accepted the thought of her husband's death and held stubbornly to the belief that he had joined Harry King to find help. He had indeed wandered away from them a few hours after the young man's departure and had been unable to find his way back and until Larry Kildine came to them they had comforted themselves that the two men were together. Much more Madame Munozka told her daughter that day before she slept and Amalia questioned her more closely than she had ever done concerning her father's faith. Thereafter she sat for a long time on the bank of Corse Moss and pondered with her mother's head pillowed on her lap. The son reached the hour of noon and still the mother slept and the daughter would not waken her. She took from the small velvet bag she always carried with her a crisp cake of cornmeal and ate to satisfy her sharp hunger for the keen air and the long climb gave her the appetite belonging to the vigorous health which was hers. They had climbed that part of the mountain directly behind the cabin and from the secluded spot where they sat she could look down on it and on the paths leading to it. Thankful and happy that at last they were where all was so safe no fear of intrusion entered her mind. Even her first anxiety about the Indians she had dismissed. Now as her eyes wandered absently over the far distance and dropped to the nearer hills and on down to the cabin in the patch of cultivated ground what was her horror to see three figures stealing with swift gliding tread toward the fodder shed from above where was no trail only such rough and wild hillside as that by which she and her mother had climbed. The men seemed to be carrying something slung between them on a pole. With long gliding steps they walked in single file as she had seen the Indians walk on the plains. She drew in her breath sharply and clasped her hands in supplication. Had these men seen them? Devoutly she prayed that they might not look up toward the heights where she and her mother sat. As they continued to descend she lost sight of them among the pines and the undergrowth which was more vigorous near the fall and then they appeared again and went into the cabin. She thought that they must have been in the fodder shed when she lost sight of them and now she waited breathlessly to see them emerge from the cabin. For an hour she sat thus straining her eyes lest she miss seeing them when they came forth and fearing lest her mother awaken. Then she saw smoke issuing from the cabin chimney and her heart stopped its beating. What! Were they preparing to stay there? How could her mother endure the cold of the mountain all night? Then she began to consider how she might protect her mother after the sun had gone down from the cold that would envelop them. Reasoning that as long as the Indians stayed in the cabin they could not be seen by them she looked about for some projecting ledge under which they might creep for the night. Gently she lifted her mother's head and placed it on her own folded shawl and with an eye ever on the cabin below she crept further up the side of the mountain until she found a place where a huge rock warmed by the sun projected far out and left a hollow beneath into which they might creep. Frantically she tore off twigs of the scrubby pines around them and made a fragrant bed of pine needles and moss on which to rest. Then she woke her mother. Sane and practical on all subjects but the one Madame Mignovska roused herself to meet this new difficulty with the old courage and climbed with Amalia's help to their wild resting place without a word of complaint. There she sat looking out over the magnificent scene before her with her great brooding eyes and ate the coarse corn cake Amalia put in her hands. She talked, always in Polish or in French, of the men rouge and she said she did not wonder they came to so good a place to rest and that she would give thanks to the great God that she and her daughter were on the mountain when they arrived. She reminded Amalia that if she had consented to return when her daughter wished they would now have been in the cabin with those terrible men and said that she had been inspired of God to stay long on the mountain. Contentedly then she munched her cake and remarked that water would give comfort in the eating of it but she smiled and made the best of the dry food. Then she prayed that her husband might be detained until the men were gone. Amalia gave her mother the water that was left in the bottle she had brought with her and lamented that she had saved so little for her. It was so bad not to save more for my mama, she cried giving the bottle with its lowered contents into her mother's hand. I go to watch Mama mine. Soon will I return. Amalia went back to her point of vantage where she could see all about the cabin and shed. Still the smoke poured from the chimney and there was no sign of red men without. It was a mountain sheep they had carried slung between them and now they dressed and cooked a portion of it and were gorging themselves comfortably before the fire with many grunts of satisfaction at the finding of the formidable owner of the premises absent. They were on their way to Laramie to trade and sell game and it was their intention to leave a portion of their mutton with Larry Kildeen for never did they dare venture near him without bringing a propitiatory offering. The sun had set and the cold mists were blowing across from the fall and closing around the cabin like a veil of emethystine dye when Amalia saw them moving about the cabin door as if preparing to depart. Her heart rose and she signaled her mother but no. They went indoors again and she saw them no more. In truth they had disputed long as to whether it was best to leave before the big man's return or to remain in their comfortable quarters and start early before day. It was the conference that drew them out and they had made ready to start at a moment's notice if he should return in the night. But as the darkness crept on and Larry Kildeen did not appear they stretched themselves before the fire and slept and the two women on the mountain, hungry and cold crept under the mother's cloak and lay long into the night, shivering and listening. Couched on the pine twigs Amalia had spread under the ledge of rock. At last clasped in each other's arms they slept in spite of fear and cold for very weariness. Amalia woke next morning to the low murmuring of a voice. It was her mother kneeling in the pine needles praying at her side. She waited until the prayer was ended then she rose and went out from the sheltered hollow where they lay. I will look a little mama, wait for me. She gazed down on the cabin but all was still. The amethystine veil had not lifted and no smoke came from the chimney. She crept back to her mother's side and they sat close for warmth and waited. When the sun rose and the clouds melted away all the earth smiled up at them and their fears seemed to melt away with the clouds. Still they did not venture out where they thought they might be spied from below and time passed while they watched earnestly for the sight of moving figures and still no smoke appeared from the cabin. Higher and higher the sun climbed in the sky yet they could not bring themselves to return. Hunger pressed them and Amalia begged her mother to let her go a little nearer to listen but she would not. So they discussed together in their own tongue and neither would allow the other to venture below and still no smoke issued from the chimney. At last Amalia started and pressed her hand to her heart. What did she see far along on the trail toward the desert? Surely a man with two animals climbing toward the turn. Her eyes danced for gladness as she turned a flushed face toward her mother. Look mama, far on, no, there. It is, mama mine, it is Ari King. The mere sight of him made her break out in English. It is that I must go to him and tell him of the Indian in the cabin before he arrived. If he come on them there and they kill him. Oh, let me go quickly. At the thought of him and the danger he might meet all her fears of the men rouge returned upon her and she was gone passing with incredible swiftness over the rough way to try to intercept him before he could reach the cabin. But she need not have feared for the Indians were long gone before daybreak they had passed Harry where he rested in the deep dusk of the morning without knowing he was near. With swift silent steps they had passed down the trail taking as much of Larry Kildine's corn as they could carry and leaving the bloody pelt of the sheep and a very meager share of the mutton in exchange. Hungry and foot sore yet eager and glad to have come home successfully Harry King walked forward leading his good yellow horse his eyes fixed on the cabin and wondering not a little for he too saw that no smoke was issuing from the chimney. He hastened and all Amalia's swiftness could not bring her to him before he reached his goal. He saw first the bloody pelt hanging beside the door and his heart stood still. Those two women never could have done that. Where were they? He dropped the leading strap leaving the weary horses where they stood and ran forward to enter the cabin and see the evidence of Indians all about. There were the clean picked bones of their feast and the dirt from their feet on Amalia's carefully kept floor. The disorder smote him and he ran out again in the sun. Looking this way and that he called and listened and called again. Why did no answer reach him? Poor Amalia. In her haste she had turned her foot and now fainting with pain and with fear for him she could not find her voice to reply. He thought he heard a low cry. Was it she? He ran again and now he saw her high above him a dark heap on the ground. Quickly he was by her side and kneeling. He gathered her in his arms. He forgot all but that she was living and that he held her and he kissed her white face in her lips and said all the tender things in his heart. He did not know what he was saying. He only knew that he could feel her heart beat and that she was opening her eyes and that with quivering arms she clasped his neck and that her tears wet his cheek and that over and over her lips were repeating his name. Ari, Ari King! You are come back. Ah, Ari King! My heart cry with the great gladness they have not killed you. All in the same instant he bethought himself that he must not caress her thus. Yet filled with the gladness he could not fathom he still clung to her and still murmured the words he meant never to speak to her. One thing he could do one thing sweet and right to do he could carry her to the cabin. How could she reach it else? His heart leaped that he had at least that right. No, Ari King! You have walked the long hard way and are very weary. But still he carried her. Put me down, Ari King! Then he obeyed her and set her gently down. I am too great a burden. See thus? If you help me a little it is that I may hop. It is better, is not? She smiled in his face but he only stooped and lifted her again in his arms. You are not a burden, Amalia. Put your arms around my neck and lean on me. She obeyed him and he could say no more for the beating of his heart. Carefully and slowly he made his way setting his feet cautiously among the stones that obstructed his path. Madame Magnowska from her heights above saw how her daughter was being carried and, guessing the trouble, snatched up the velvet bag Amalia had dropped in her haste, flung her cloak about her and began to thread her way down slowly and carefully. For, as she said to herself, we must not both break the bones at one time. To Harry it seemed no sound was ever sweeter than Amalia's low voice as she coaxed him brokenly to set her down and allow her to walk. This is great foolishness, Erie King, that you carry me. Put me down that you rest a little. I can't, Amalia. You have walked all the long trail. I saw you walk and lead those horse for only to bring your box. How my heart can thank you is not possible. Erie King, you are so weary. Put me down. I can't, Amalia. Again was all he said. So he held her, comforting his heart that he had this right until he drew near the cabin and there Amalia saw the pelt of the sheep hung upon the wall of the cabin, pitifully dangling, bloody and ragged. Strangely at the sight quite harmless yet gruesome all her fortitude gave way. With a cry of terror she hit her face and clung to him. No, no. I cannot go there. No, not near it. No. Oh, you brave, sweet woman. It is only a skin. Don't look at it then. You have been frightened. I see how you have suffered. Wait. There, no. Don't put your foot to the ground. Sit on this hillock while I take it away. But she only clung to him the more and sobbed convulsively. I am afraid, Erie King. Oh, if, if they are there still, those Indian do not go there. But they are gone. I have been in and they are not there. I won't take you into that place until I have made it fit for you again. Sit here awhile. Amalia Manovskaya. I can't see you weep. So tenderly he spoke her name with quivering lips reverently. With all his power he held himself and would dare no more. If only once more he might touch her lips with his, only once in his renunciation, but no. His conscience forbade him. Memory closed upon him like a deadening cloud and drenched his hurt soul with sorrow. He rose from stooping above her and looked back. Your mother is coming. She will be here in a moment and then I will set that room in order for you and his voice shook so that he was obliged to pause. He stooped again to her and spoke softly. Amalia Manovskaya, stop weeping. Your tears fall on my heart. Ah, what have happened to you? To Amalia. Those terrible men rouge, cried Madame Manovskaya, hurrying forward. Oh, madam, I'm glad you have come. The Indians are gone. Never fear. Amalia has hurt her foot. It is very painful. You will know what to do for her and I will leave her while I make things more comfortable in there. He left them and ran to the cabin and hastily taking the hideous pelt from the wall, hid it, and then set himself to cleaning the room and burning the litter of bones and scraps left from the feast. It was horrible, yes horrible, that they should have had such a fright and alone there. Soon he went back and again taking her in his arms, unresisted now, he laid her on the bunk, then knelt and removed her worn shoe. Little worn shoe, it has walked many a mile, has it not? Did you think to ask Larry Kildine to bring you new ones? No, I forgot my feet, she laughed, and the spell of tears was broken. The long strain of anxiety and fear, and then the sudden release had been too much. Moreover, she was faint with hunger. Without explanation, Harry King understood. He looked to the mother for help and saw that a change had come over her. Roused from her apathy, she was preparing food and looking from her to Amalia, they exchanged a glance of mutual relief. How it is beautiful to see her, Amalia spoke low. It is my hurt that is good for her mind. I am glad of the hurt. He sat with the shoe in his hand. Will you let me bind your ankle, Amalia? It will grow worse unless something is done quickly. He spoke humbly as one beseeching a favor. Now it is already better. You have removed the shoe. How he loved her quaint rapid speech. Mama will bind it, for you have to do for those horse and the mule. I know I have seen to take them to drink and eat and take from them the load, the burden. It is the box. For that have you risk your life and the gladness we feel to again have it is, is only one greater, and that is to have you again with us. Oh, what a sorrow and terror. If you would not come, I can never make you know. When I see those Indian come walking after each other, so as they go, my heart ceased to beat and my body become like the ice for the fear. When fearing for myself, it is bad, but when for another it is much, much more terrible. So have I found it. Her mother came then to attend to her hurt, interrupting Amalia's flow of speech, and Harry went out to the animals, full of care and misgiving. What now could he do? How endure the days to come with the torture of her oppression? How shield her from himself and his love when she so freely gave? What middle course was possible without making her suffer? That afternoon, all the events of his journey were told to them as they questioned him keenly, and he learned by little words and looks exchanged between them how great had been their anxiety for him and of their night of terror on the mountain. But now that it was past and they were all unhurt except for Amalia's accident, they made light of it. He dragged in the box and before he left them that night, he prepared Larry's gun and told Amalia to let nothing frighten her. Don't leave the bunk nor put your foot to the ground. Fire the gun at the slightest disturbance and I will surely hear. I have another in the shed or I will roll myself in my blanket and sleep outside your door. Yes, I will do that. Then the mother turned on him and spoke in her deep tones. Go to your bed, airy king, and sleep well. You have need. We asked of the good God your safety and our fear is gone. Good night. Good night. End of Chapter 20 Recording by Robert Smith, Chapel Hill, North Carolina Chapter 21 of the Eye of Dread This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Robert Smith The Eye of Dread by Payne Erskine Chapter 21 The Violin While Amalia lay recovering from the sprained ankle, which proved to be a serious hurt, Madame Mannyowska continued to improve. She took up the duties which had before occupied Amalia only and seemed to grow more cheerful. Still, she remained convinced that Larry Kildeen would return with her husband and her daughter's anxiety as to what might be the outcome when the big man should arrive alone, deepened. Harry King guardedly and tenderly watched over the two women. Every day he carried Amalia out in the sun to a sheltered place where she might sit and work at the fascinating lace with which her fingers seemed to be only playing, yet which developed into webs of most intricate design even while her eyes were not fixed upon it, but were glancing about at whatever interested her or up in his face as she talked to him impulsively in her fluent inverted English. Amalia was not guarded. She was lavish with her interest in all he said and in her quick responsive and poetic play of fancy, ardent and glowing, glad to give out from her soul its best to this man who had befriended her father in their utmost need and who had saved her own and her mother's life. She knew always when a cloud gathered over his spirit and made it her duty to dispel such mists of some possible sad memory by turning his thoughts to whatever of beauty she found around them or in the inspiration of her own rich nature. To avoid disquieting her by the studied guardedness of his manner, Harry employed himself as much of the time as possible away from the cabin, often in providing game for the winter. Larry Kildeen had instructed him how to cure and dry the meat and to store it and also how to care for the skins. But because of the effect of that sight of the bloody sheep's pelt on Amalia, he never showed her a poor little dead creature or the skin of one. He brought her mother whatever they required of food carefully prepared and that was all. He constructed a chair for her and threw over it furs from Larry Kildeen's store, making it soft and comfortable thereby. He made also a footstool for the hurt ankle to rest upon and found a beautiful lynx skin with which to cover her feet. The back of the chair he made high and hinged it with leather to the seat, arranging it so that by means of pegs it might be raised or lowered. Without lumber and with the most simple tools he sawed and hewed the logs and lacking nails he set it together with pegs, but what matter? It was comfortable and in the making of it he eased his heart by expressing his love without sorrowful betrayal. Amalia laughed as she sat in it one day close to the open door because the air was too pinching cold for her to be out. She laughed as she put her hands in the soft fur and drew her fingers through it and looked up in Harry's face. You are thanking me so foolish, yes, to have about me the skins of poor little-killed beasts yet I weeped all those tears on your coat because to see the other, yes, hanging beside the door. It is so we are, is not? I'm glad enough you're not consistent. It would be a blot on your character. But for why, Mr. Harry? Oh, I couldn't stand it. Again she laughed. How it is very peculiar that reason you give not to stand it. Could you then to sit it? But Harry only laughed and looked away from her. She laid her face against the soft fur. Good little animals to give me your life but sometime you would die perhaps with sorrow of hunger and age and the life be for nothing. This is better. There you're right. Let me draw you back in the room and close the door. It will freeze tonight, I'm thinking. Oh, not yet, please. I have yet to see the gloriful sky of the West. Last evening how it was beautiful. Tonight it will be more lovely to look upon for the long line of little cloud there on which the red of the sun will burn like fire in the heaven over the mountain. You must enjoy the beauty, Amalia and then pray that there may be no snow. It looks like it and we want the snow to hold off until Larry comes back. We pray always my mama and I, she that he come back quickly and me, I pray that he come back safely but to be soon it is such terror to me. Larry will find a way out of the difficulty. He will have an excuse all thought out for your mother. I am more anxious about the snow with the sunset sky like that but I don't know anything about this religion. Mr. Irie, so very clever you are in making things. Can you help me to one more thing? I like very much to have the sticks for lame walking. What you call the crutch? Yes. I have for so long time spoken only the Polish that I forget me greatly the English. You must talk to me much and make me reproof of my mistakes. Do you know for why I like the crutch? It is that I would go each day many times to see the water fall down. Ah, how that is beautiful! In the sun or early in the morning or in the night always beautiful. You shall have the crutches, Amalia and until I get them made I will carry you to the fall each day. Come, I will take you there now. I will wrap these furs around you and you shall see the fall in the evening light. No, Arrie King, tomorrow I will try to ride on the horse if you will lift me up on him. I will let you do this but you may not carry me as you have done. I am now so strong. You may make me the crutch, yes. Of all things he wished her to let him carry her to the fall but her refusal was final and he set about making the crutches immediately. Through the evening he worked on them and at nightfall the next day he brought them to her. As he came down from his shed carrying the crutches proudly he heard sweet quivering tones in the air wafted intermittently. The wind was still and through the evening hushed the tones strengthened as he drew nearer the cabin until they seemed to wrap him in a net of interwoven cadences and fine spun threads of quivering melody a net of sound enclosing his spirit in its intricate mesh of sweetness. He paused and breathed deeply and turned this way and that as if he would escape but found no way. Then he walked slowly on. At the door of the cabin he paused again the firelight shown through from underneath and a fine thread of golden light sifted through the latch of the door and fell on the hand that held Amalia's crutches. He looked down on the spot of light dancing over his hand as if he were dazed by it. Very gently he laid the crutches across the threshold and for a long time stood without listening, his head bowed as if he were praying. It was her father's violin the one she had wept at leaving behind her. What was she playing? Strange old world melodies they seemed tossed into the air now laughing, now wailing like sorrowing women voices. Oh, the violin in her hands. Oh, the rapture of hearing it as her soul vibrated through it and called to him, called to him. But he would not hear the call. He turned sorrowfully and went down again to the shed and there he lay upon his face and clasped his hands above his head and whispered her name. It was as if his heart were beating itself against prison walls and the clasped hands were stained with blood. He rose next morning haggard and pale. The snow was falling, falling, softly and silently. It fell like lead upon his heart so full of anxiety was he for the good friend who might even then be climbing up the trail. Madame Munozka observed his drawn face and thought he suffered only from anxiety and tried to comfort him. Amalia also attempted to cover her own anxiety by assurances that the good Saint Christopher who watches over travelers would protect Larry Kildine because he knew so well how many dangers there were and that he who had carried the Christ with all his burden of sorrows could surely keep Sir Kildine even through the snows of winter. In spite of an inherent and trained disbelief in all supposed legends especially as tenants of faith Harry felt himself comforted by her talk yet he could not forbear questioning her as to her own faith in them. Do you truly believe all that, Amalia? All that of what, Mr. Ari? She seemed truly mystified. I mean those childish legends of the saints you often quote. Amalia laughed. You think I have learned them of the good sisters in my convent and is no truth in them? Why, I guess that's about it. Did your father believe them? Maybe no. But my father was Devoet? Very. But he had a very wide thought of God and man. A thought reaching far out. Two. I find it very hard to explain. If but you understood the French I could tell you. But for me I have my father's faith and it makes me glad to play in my heart with these legends as you call them. He gave her a quick appealing glance then turned his gaze away. Try to explain. Your English is beautiful. If you eat your breakfast then will I try? Yes, yes I will. You say he had faith reaching far out. To where? To what? He said there would never be rest in all the universe until we find everywhere God, living, creating, moving forever in the the all. She held out her hands and extended her arms in an encompassing movement indescribably full of grace. You mean he was a pantheist? Oh, no, no. That is to you a horror I see but it was not that. She laughed again so merrily that Harry laughed too. But still he persisted. Amalia, never mind what your father thought. Tell me your own faith. Then she grew grave. My faith is just God in the all seeing, feeling, knowing with us, for us, never away in the deep night of sorrow understanding in the far wilderness hearing in the terror and remorse of the heart when we weep for sin, loving. It is only one thing in all the world to learn and that is to learn all things just to reach out the mind and touch God to find his love in the heart and so always live in the perfect music of God. That is the wonderful harmony and melody and growth of each little soul and of all peoples, all worlds. Oh, it is the universe of love God gives to us. For a while they were silent and Madame Manjavska began to move about the cabin setting the things in order. She did not seem to have taken any interest in their talk. Harry rose to go, but first he looked in Amalia's eyes. The perfect music of God? He said the word slowly and questioningly. You understand my meaning? I can't say, do you? She quickly snatched up her violin which lay within reach of her arm. I can better show you. She drew a long cord then from it wandered into a melody sweet and delicate. Then she drew other cords and on into other melodies all related. Then she began to talk again. It is only on two strings I am playing for here. The others are now souls out of the music of God. Listen. She drew her bow across the discordant strings. How that is terrible so God creates great and beautiful laws. She went back into the harmony and perfect melody and played on, now changing to the discordant strain and back as she talked and gives to all people power to understand but not through weakness but through longing and searching with big earnestness of purpose and much desire. Who has no care and desire for the music of God strikes always those wrong notes and all suffer as our ears suffer with the bad sounds. So it is through long desiring and living always a little and a little more perceiving reaching out the hand to touch and love our brothers and sisters on the earth. Always with patience learning to find in our own souls the note that strikes in harmony with the great thought of God and thus we understand and live in the music of God. Ah, it is hard for me to say it but it is as if our souls are given wings wings that reach from the gold of the sun even to the earth at our feet and we float upon that great harmony of love like upon a wonderful upbearing sea and never can we sink and ever all is well for we live in the thought of God. Amaya, Amaya how about sin and the one who kills and the ones who hate and the little children brought into the world in sin Harry's voice trembled and he bowed his head in his hands. Never is anything lost. They are the ones who have not yet learned. They have not found the key to God's music. Those who find it must quickly help and give and teach the little children. The little children find so easily the key but to all the strings making a horrible discord on the earth we dare not shut our eyes and hide. So do the sweet good sisters in the convent. They do their little to teach the little children but it is always to shut their ears. But the Christ went out in the world not with hands over his ears but out reached to his brothers and sisters on the earth. But my father my father he turned away from the church because he saw they had not found the true key to God's music or I mean they kept it always hid and covered with much how shall I say with much drapery and golden coverings that the truth that is the key was lost to sight. It was for this my father quarreled with all that he thought not the truth. He believed to set his people free both from the world's oppression and from their own ignorance and give to them a truth uncovered. Oh, it set his old friends in great discord more than ever for they could not make thus God's music and so they rose up and threw him in prison and all the terrible things came upon him of the world. My mother must have been very able through love to drag him free from them even if they did pursue. It was the conflict of discord he felt all his life and now he is free. Suddenly the mother's deep tones sounded through the cabin with a finality that made them both start. Yes, now he is free and yet he will bring them to no. We wait for him here. No more must he go to Poland. It is not the will of God. Still Harry was not satisfied but if you think all these great thoughts and you do I can't see how you can quote those legends as if you thought them true. I quote them yes because I love them and their poetry. Through all beauty all sweetness all strength God brings to us his thought. This I believe. I believe the saints lived and were holy and good loving the great brotherhood. Why may not they be given the work of love still to do? It is all in the music of God that they live and make happy and why should I believe that it is now taken from them to do good? Much that I think lies deep in my heart and I cannot tell it in words. Nor can I but my thoughts. For an instant Amalia looking at him saw in his face the same look of inward fear or rather of despair that had appalled Larry but it went as quickly as it appeared and she wondered afterward if she had really seen it or if it was a strange trick of the firelight in the windowless cabin. And your thoughts, Mr. Harry? They are not to be told. Again he rose to go and stood and looked down on her smiling. I see you have already tried the crutches. Yes, I found them in the snow before the door. How I got there. I did hop. It was as if the good angels had come in the night. I wake and something make me all glad and I go to the door to look at the whiteness and then I am sorry because of Sir Kildeen. Then I see before me while that I stand on one foot and hop, hop, hop. So I see the crutch lying in the snow. Oh, Mr. Harry, now so pale you are. It is that you have worked in the night to make them, is not? That is sorrowful to me. But now I will do for you pleasant things because I can move to do them on these, where before I must always sit still, still. Ah, how that it is hard to do. One good thing comes to me of this hurt. It makes the old shoes to last longer. How is it never to wear out shoes, never to walk in them? Harry laughed. We'll have to make you some moccasins. And what is moccasins? Ah, yes, the Indian shoe. I like them well so soft they must be and so pretty with the beads. I have seen once such shoes on one little Indian child. Her mother made them. Then Harry made her try the crutches to be sure they were quite right. And seeing that they were a little too long he measured them with care and carried them back to the shed and there he shortened them and polished them with sand and a piece of flint until he succeeded in making a very workman-like job of them. At noon he brought them back and stood in the doorway a moment beside her looking out through the whiteness upon the transformed world. In spite of what that snow might mean to Larry Kildeen and through him to them of calamity may be death a certain elation possessed Harry. His body was braced to unusual energy by the keen, pure air and his spirit enthralled and lifted to unconscious adoration by the vast mystery of a beauty subtle and ethereal in its hushed eloquence. From the zenith through whiteness to whiteness the flakes sifted from the sky like a filmy brides veil thrown over the blue of the farthest and highest peaks and swaying soft folds of lucent whiteness upon the earth the trees and upon the cabin and as they stood there closing them in together the very center of mystery their own souls. Again the passion swept through him to gather her in his arms and he held himself sternly and stiffly against it and would have said something simple and common to break the spell but he only faltered and looked down on his hands spread out before her and what he said was do you see blood on them? I know did you hurt your hand to cause blood on them and to make those crutch for me? She cried in consternation. No, no, it's nothing. I have not hurt my hand. See, there's no blood on the crutches. He glanced at them as she leaned her weight on them there at his side with a feeling of relief. It seemed as if they must show a stain yet why should it be blood? Come in it's too cold for you to stand in the door with no shawl. I mean to put enough wood in here to last you the rest of the day and go. Mr. Ari not to leave us. No, it is no need you go for why? Her terror touched him. No, I would not go again and leave you and your mother alone not to save my soul. As you say, there is no need. As long as it is so still and the clouds are thin, the snow will do little harm. It would be the driving fine snow and the drifts that would delay him. Yes, snow as we have it in the terrible Russia. I know such snow well, said Madame Magnowska. They went in and closed the door and sat down to eat. The meal was lighted only by the dancing flames from the hearth and their faces glowed in the fitful light. Always the meals were conducted with a certain stately ceremony which made the lack of dishes other than the shaped slabs of wood sawn from the ends of logs. Odd makeshifts invented by Harry seemed merely an accident of the moment while the bits of lace-edged linen that Amalia provided from their little store seemed quite in harmony with the air of grace and gentleness that surrounded the two women. It was as if they were using a service of silver and severess and to have missed the graciousness of their administrations now that he had lived for a little while with them would have been sorrow indeed. He even forgot that he was clothed in rags and wore them as if they were the faultless garments of a prince. It was only when he was alone that he looked down on them inside. One day he had come to the cabin to ask if he might take for a little while a needle and thread. But when he got there the conversation wandered to discussion of the writers and the tragedies of the various nations and of their poets and the needle and thread were forgotten. Today as the snow fell it reminded Amalia of his need and she begged him to stay with them a little to see what the box he had rescued for them contained. He yielded and taking up the violin he held it a moment to his chin as if he would play then laid it down again without drawing the bow across it. Ah, Mr. Harry, it is that you play cried Amalia in delight. I know it. No man takes in his hand the violin thus if he do not play. I had a friend once who played. No, I can't. He turned away from it sadly and she gently laid it back in its box and caught up a piece of heavy material. Look, it is a little of this left. It is for you. My mother has much skill to make garments. Let us so for you the blouse. Yes, I'll do that gladly. I have no other way to keep myself decent before you. What would you have? All must serve or we die. Madam Manjovska spoke. It is very well, Sir Harry King. You carry your head like one prince for I will make of you one peasant in this blouse. The two women laughed and measured him and conferred volubly together in their own tongue and he went out from their presence feeling that no prince had ever been so honored. They took also from their store warm socks of wool and gave him. Sadly, he needed them as he realized when he stepped out from their door and the soft snow closed around his feet chilling them with the cold. As he looked up in the sky he saw the clouds were breaking and the sun glowed through them like a great pale gold moon even though the flakes continued to veil thinly the distance. His heart lightened and he went back to the cabin to tell them the good news and to ask them to pray for clear skies tomorrow. Having been reared in a rigidly puritanic school of thought the time was when first he knew them that the freedom with which Amalia spoke of the deity and of the Christ and the saints and her prayers fell strangely upon his unaccustomed ears. He was reserved religiously and seemed to think any mention of such topics should be made with bated breath and the upmost solemnity. Often it had been in his mind to ask her concerning her beliefs but his shyness on such themes had prevented. Now that he had asked her he still wondered he was used to feel that no one could be really devout and yet speak so freely. Why? He could not have told. But now he began to understand yet it was but a beginning. Could it be that she belonged to no church? Was it some sect of which he had never heard to which they belonged? If so it must be a true faith or it never could have upheld them through all their wanderings and afflictions and as he pondered he found himself filled with a measure of the same trustful peace. During their flight across the planes together he had come to rest in them and when his heart was too heavy to dare address the deity in his own words it was bombed to his hurt spirit to hear them at their devotions as if thus God were drawn nearer him. This time whether he might lay it to their prayers or no his hopes were fulfilled. The evening brought a clear sunset and during the next day the snow melted and soon was gone and a breeze sprang up and the clouds drifted away and for several days thereafter the weather continued clear and dry. Now often he brought his horse to the door and lifted Amalia to the saddle and walked at her side fearing she might rest her foot too firmly in the stirrup and so loose control of the horse in her pain. Always their way took them to the falls and always he listened while Amalia talked. He allowed himself only the most meager liberty of expression. Distant and cold his manner often seemed to her. But intuitively she respected his moods if moods they might be called she suspected not. End of chapter 21 Recording by Robert Smith Chapel Hill North Carolina Chapter 22 of The Eye of Dread This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Robert Smith The Eye of Dread by Payne Erskine Chapter 22 The Beast on the Trail A week after the first snowfall Larry Kildeen returned. He had lingered long after he should have taken the trail and had gone farther than he had dreamed of going when he parted from his three companions on the mountaintop. All day long the snow had been falling and for the last few miles he had found it almost impossible to crawl upward. Fortunately there had been no wind and the snow lay as it had fallen covering the trail so completely that only Larry Kildeen himself could have kept it he and his horse yet not impeding his progress with drifts to be tunneled through. Harry King had been growing more and more uneasy during the day and had kept the trail from the cabin to the turn of the cliff clear of snow. But below that point he did not think it wise to go. He could not indeed. There, however, he stationed himself to wait through the night and just beyond the turn he built a fire thinking it might send a light into the darkness to greet Larry should he happen to be toiling through the snow. He did not arouse the fears of Amalia by telling her he meant to keep watch all night on the cliff but he asked her for a brew of Larry Kildeen's coffee of which they had been most sparing when he left them after the evening meal and it was given him without a thought as he had been all day working in the snow and the request seemed natural. He asked that he might have it in the great kettle in which they prepared it and carried it with him to the fodder shed. Darkness had settled over the mountain when after an hour's rest he returned to the top of the trail and mended his fire and placed the kettle near enough to keep the contents hot. Through half the night he waited thus sometimes walking about and peering into the obscurity below sometimes replenishing his fire and sometimes just patiently sitting his arms clasped about his knees gazing into space and brooding. Many times had Harry King been lonely but never had the awesomeness of life and its mysterious leadings so impressed him as during this night's vigil. Moses alone on the mountaintop carried there and left where he might see into the promised land the land toward which he had been aided miraculously to lead his people but which he might not enter because of one's sin one only transgression. Elijah sitting alone in the wilderness waiting for the revealing of God waiting heartbroken and weary vicariously bearing in his own spirit regrets and sorrows over the waywardness of his people Israel and John the forerunner a voice crying in the wilderness Repent ye these were not so lonely for their God was with them and had led them by direct communication and miraculous power. They were not lonely as Cain was lonely stained with a brother's blood cast out from among his fellows hunted and haunted by his own guilt. Silence profound and indescribable reigned while the great soft flakes continued to drift slowly down silent silent as the grave and above and beneath and on all sides the same absolute neutrality of tint vague and soft yet the reality of the rugged mountain even so obscured and covered remained its cliffs and crags below deadly and ragged and fearful to look down upon and skirting its sides the long weary trail up which at that very moment a man might be toiling suffering even to the limit of death might be giving his life for the two women and the man who had come to him so suddenly out of the unknown strange passing strange it all was. Again and again Harry rose and replenished the fire and stamped about shaking from his shoulders the little heaps of snow that had collected there the flames rose high in the still air and stained the snow around his bonfire a rosy red. The redness of the fire stained snow was not more deep and vital than the red blood pulsing through his heart. With all a strong man's virility and power he loved as only the strong can love and through all his brooding that undercurrent ran like a swift and mighty river love stronger than hate love triumphing over death love deeper than hell love lifting to the zenith of heaven only two things seemed to him verities at that moment God above and love within two overwhelming truths terrible in their power all consuming in their sweetness one in their vast incomprehensible entity of force beneficent to be forever sought for and chosen out of all the universe of good. The true meaning of Amalia's faith as she had brokenly tried to explain it to him dawned on his understanding God love truth and power annihilating evil as light eats up darkness drawing all into the great harmony of the music of God. Sitting there in the red light of the fire with the snow falling around him he knew what he must do first to come into the harmony. He must take up his burden and declare the truth and suffer the result no matter what it might be. Keen were all the impressions and visions of his mind even while he could see Amalia sleeping in the cabin and could feel her soft breath on his cheek could feel her in his arms could hear her prayers for Larry Kildeen's safety as at that moment he might be coming to them. He knew that the mighty river of his love must be held back by a masterful will must be damned back until its floods deepened into an ocean of tranquility while he rose above his loneliness and his fierce longing loving her yet making no avowal holding her in his heart yet never disturbing her peace of spirit by his own heart's tumult clinging to her night and day yet relinquishing her. And out of this resolution against which his nature cried and beat itself he saw serene and more lonely than Moses or Elijah beautiful and near to him as his love the Christ taken to the high places even the pinnacle of the temple and the mountain peak overlooking the worlds and the kingdoms thereof and turning from them all to look down on him with a countenance of ineffable beauty the love that dies not. He lifted his head the visions were gone had he slept the fire was burning low and a long line was streaked across the eastern sky a line of gold while still darkness rested below him and around him again he built up the fire and set the kettle closer he stood out on the height to the top of the trail and listened his figure a black silhouette against the dancing flames he called he shouted with all his power then listened did he hear a call surely it must be he plunged downward and called again and again came the faint response in his hand he carried a long pole and with it he prodded about in the snow for sure footing and continued to descend calling from time to time and rejoicing to hear the answering call yes Larry Kildeen was below him in the obscurity and now his voice came up to Harry long and clear he had not far to go ere he saw the big man slowly toiling upward through the dusk of dawn he had dismounted and the weary animals were following behind thus Larry Kildeen came back to his mountain exhausted he still made light of his achievement climbing through day and night to arrive before the snow should have banked around him he stood in the firelight swaying with weariness and tasted the hot coffee and shook his grizzled head and laughed the animals came slowly on and stood close to him almost resting their noses on his shoulder while Harry King gazed on him with admiration now if it weren't for the poor beasts I'd lie down here by the fire and sleep rather than take a step farther tonight tonight why it's morning isn't it I never thought we were so near the end if I hadn't seen the fire a long way down I would have risked another bivouac for the rest of the night we might have lived through it I don't know but this is better he rubbed the nose of his panting horse I shall drop to sleep if we don't move on a thin blue smoke was rising from the chimney as they passed the cabin but Amalia kneeling before the hearth did not know they were near Harry wondered if Larry had forgotten the mother's hallucination about her husband yet for bore to mention it thinking it best to get him into his bunk first but he had not forgotten when Harry came into the shed after stabling the horses he found Larry sitting before the chimney fire warming his knees and smoking give me a little more of that coffee Harry and let's talk a bit before I turn in for the day there's the mother now she still thinks as she did I'll not see them until this evening when I may feel able to meet the question and lad tell me what you please but better not let the mother know I'm here until I can see her then if you'll go to bed now I'll bring your food up I'll tell Amalia of course I'm not hungry only weary don't bother the women about food after a day and night of sleep I'll be quite fit again man but it's good to be back into the peace of the hills I've been down where the waves of civilization roar yes yes I'll go to my bunk after a bit the great menace to our tranquility here for the winter is the mother but she has improved good good how she thinks of things around her and takes care of the cabin since Amalia is hurt hurt how's that? she sprained her ankle only but enough to lay her up for a while I see shook her mother out of her dreams not entirely I think the improvement comes more from her firm conviction that you are to bring her husband with you and Amalia agrees with me if you have an excuse that will satisfy her I see she was satisfied in her mind that he was alive and would come to her I see keep her quiet until I wake up and then we'll find a way out if the truth is impossible now I'll sleep for a day and a night and a day as long as I've been on that forced march it was to go back or try to push through or die and I pushed through don't sleep until I've brought you some hot broth I'm sure they have it down there I'll be glad of it yes but he could not keep awake before Harry could throw another log on the fire he was asleep then Harry gently drew an army blanket over him and went out to the stable there he saddled his own horse and led him toward the cabin before he reached it he saw Amalia coming to meet him hobbling on her crutch she was bareheaded and the light of morning was in her eyes ah, Harry, Harry King he has come I see here marks of feet of horses in the snow is not is well, is safe Larry killed Dean so noble and kind yes, my mother no she prepares the food and me I shut the door when I run out to see is it sun today and the terrible snow no more falling there I see the marks of horses yes she spoke excitedly and looked up in Harry's face with smiles on her lips and anxious appeal in her eyes throw down that crutch and lean on me I'll lift you up, there now we'll go back to the cabin and lead Goldbug around a bit so his tracks will cover the others and account for them then after breakfast I'll take you to the top of the trail and tell you she leaned down to him from her seat on the horse and put her hand on his shoulder is well, and you? you have not slept, no? looking up in her face so wonderful and beautiful so filled with tender solicitude for him and her glowing eyes fixed on his he was covered with confusion even to scarcely comprehending what she said he took the hand from his shoulder and kissed the tips of her fingers then dropped it and walked on ahead leading the horse I'm well, yes, tired a bit, but oh yes, Larry killed Dean he's all right we'll go out on the trail and consult what is best to do about your mother and say nothing until then to Amalia a kiss on the fingertips meant no more than the usual morning greeting in her own country and she rode on undisturbed by his demonstration which he felt keenly and for which he would have knelt and begged her pardon ever since his first unguarded moment when he returned and found her fainting on the hillside he had set such rigid watch over his actions that his adoration had been expressed only in service for the most part silent and with averted eyes this aloofness she felt and with the fineness of her nature respected letting her own play of imagination hover away from intimate intrusion merely lightening the somber relationship that would otherwise have existed like a breeze that stirs only the surface of a deep pool and sets dancing lights at play that leaves the depths undisturbed yet with all her intuitiveness she found him difficult and enigmatic an impenetrable wall seemed to be ever between them erected by his will not hers therefore she would not try by the least suggestion of manner or even of thought to know why nor would she admit to her own spirit the hurt of it the wall enclosure of his heart was his and she must remain without to have attempted by any art to get within the boundaries he had set she felt to be unmaidenly in spite of his strength and vigor Harry was very weary but less from his long nights vigil than from the emotions that had torn him and left his heart heavy with the necessity of covering always this strong elemental love that smoldered waiting in abeyance until it might leap into consuming flame during the breakfast Harry sat silent while the two women talked a little with each other speculating as to the weather and rejoicing that the morning was again clear then while her mother was occupied Amalia unnoticed gave him the broth to carry up to the shed and there as Larry still slept he said it near the fire that it might be warm and ready for him should he wake during their absence at the cabin he brought wood and laid it beside the hearth and looked about to see if there were anything more he could do before he spoke Madame Manjotska, Amalia and I are going up the trail a little way and we may be gone some time but I'll take good care of her he smiled reassuringly we mustn't waste the sunny days when Mr. Kildeen returns you also must ride sometimes ah yes, when, where? it is long, very long but maybe not so long mama soon now must he come, I think it they left her standing in the door as they went off up the trail the glistening snow making the world so dazzling in the sunlight so blinding to her eyes used to the obscurity of the cabin that the many tracks past the door were unnoticed by her in silence they walked until they had almost reached the turn when Amalia spoke have you look how I use but the one crutch, Ariking? soon will I again walk on my foot very well I have so many times to thank you now of mama we must speak she thanks only every day, every hour of my father if we shall speak the truth to her I do not know what she will do we cannot tell, no and it is well to keep her heart from too much sorrow for sir Kildeen he must not be afflicted by us my mama and I we have take from him his house and he is banished all for us to make pleasant and what we can do is little, so little and if my mama sit always silent when we should be gay to each other and make happy the days is not good and all his peace will be gone now talk to me a little of your thoughts, Ariking my thoughts must be like yours, Amalia if I would have them wise it's best to leave her as undisturbed as possible until spring the months will go by rapidly he will not be troubled then we can take her to some place where I will see to it that you are cared for the horse suddenly stopped and settled back on his haunches and lifted his head looking wildly about Harry sprang to the bridle but he did not try to get away and only stood quivering and breathing loudly as if in the direst fear and leaned close to Harry for protection what ails you good horse? Harry petted and coaxed but he refused to move on and showed every sign of frantic fear I can't think what possesses him he's afraid, but of what? there, there, cried Amalia pointing to the top of the trail at the cliff it's the beast, I have read of it so terrible, ah surely that's a mountain line Goldbug scented him before he rounded the cliff their cowards never fear he shouted and flung his arms in the air but did not dare let the bridle rain go for fear the horse would bolt with her for a moment the beast stood regarding them then turned and trotted off in a leisurely fashion Harry take my hand one minute I am like the horse afraid if that animal had come when we were alone on the mountain in that night it is my heart that will not stand still don't be afraid, now he's gone he was hunting there where I was last night and no doubt he smells the horses that came up the mountain early this morning it is the snow that has driven him out of the canyon to hunt for food he let her cling to his hand and stood quietly petting and soothing the horse all night, Harry King you were there all night, why? she shivered and bending down looked steadily in his eyes I had a fire there was no danger there is more danger for me in he cut his words short shall we go on now or would you rather turn back she drew herself up and released his hand still she trembled I will be brave like you are brave if you so desire we go on you are really braver than I then we'll go a few steps farther but the horse would not go on he snorted and quivered and pulled back Harry looked up at Amalia she sat calmly waiting but was very pale then he yielded to the horse and turning led him back toward the cabin she drew a long sigh of relief then and glanced at him and they both laughed you see I am the coward to only make believe I am not afraid I am very afraid and now more than always will I be afraid when that you go to hunt Harry King go no more alone her voice was low and pleading there is much to do I will teach you to speak the French like you have once said you wish to learn then is the book to write is much to do that is very pleasant but of those wild lions on the hills they are not for a man to fight alone he restrained the horse and walked slowly at her side his hand on the pommel of the saddle but did not speak you promise not all night you stay in the cold where is danger and how may I know you will not again do such a thing all is beautiful here and great happiness may be if if that you do know tragedy so sweetly did she plead he could no longer remain silent there is only one happiness for me in life Amalia and that is forbidden me I have expiation to make before I may ask happiness of heaven you have been most patient with my silences always will you be patient still and understand she drew in her breath sharply and turned her face away from him and for a moment was silent then she spoke her voice was very low and very sweet what is right that must be always then they spoke again of Madame Magnovska and Amalia opened her heart to him as never before it seemed as if she would turn his thoughts from whatever sorrow might be hanging over him and impress him with the feeling that no matter what might be the cause of his reserve or what wrong he might have done her faith in him remained unshaken it was a sweet return for his stammered confession End of Chapter 22 Recording by Robert Smith, Chapel Hill, North Carolina Chapter 23 of The Eye of Dread This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Robert Smith The Eye of Dread by Payne Erskine, Chapter 23 A Discourse on Lying All day Larry Kildeen slept Hardly waking long enough toward nightfall to drink his broth But the next day he was refreshed and merry Leave Madame Magnovska alone, he admonished Harry Take Amalia off for another ride and I'll go down to the cabin and if there's a way to set her mind at rest about her husband I'll find it I'd not be willing to take an oath on what I may tell her but it will be satisfying, never fear The ride was a short one for the air was chill and there were more signs of snow but when they returned to the cabin they found Larry seated by the fire drinking a brew of Madame's tea and conversing with her joyously about his trip and what he had seen of the new railroad It was curious how he had succeeded in bringing her to take an interest in things quite alien to her The very atmosphere of the cabin seemed to be cleared by his presence big, genial, and all embracing Certainly nothing of the recluse appeared in his demeanor only when they were alone in their own quarters did he show occasionally a longing for the old condition of unmolested tranquility To go to his dinner at a set hour no matter how well prepared it might be annoyed him There's no reason in life why they should get a meal ready merely because a timepiece says twelve o'clock let them wait until a man's hungry he would grumble Then arrived at the cabin he would be all courtesy and geniality When Harry rallied him on his inconsistency he gravely replied An Irish gentleman is an Irish gentleman the world over no matter where you find him in court, camp, or wilderness it's all one to him Why do you think I brought that mirror you shaved by all the way up the mountain? Why, to have a body to look at now and again? And to Blarney just that I might not forget the trick What was the good of that, do you ask? Look at yourself, man you're a dour scotchman, that's what you are and you keep your humor done up in a wet blanket and when it glints out of the corner of your eye a bit you draw down the corners of your mouth to belie it What's the good of that now? The world's a rough place to walk in from the most part especially for women and if a man carries a smile on his face and a bit of Blarney on the tip of his tongue he smooths the way for them Now, there's Madame Anyavska what would you and Amalia have done to her? driven her clean out of her head with your bungling? In a case like hers you must be very discreet and lead her around by the way she wants to go to a place of safety Harry smiled since his avowal to Amalia of his determination to make expiation for the crime that clouded his life he had grown more cheerful and less restrained in manner he would accept the present happiness and so far as he could without wrong to her he would fill his hours with the joy of her companionship and his love should dominate him and his heart should revel in the thought of her and her nearness to him then when the spring should come and melt the snowy barriers between him and the world below he would go down and make his expiation drinking the bitter cup to the dregs this happy imprisonment on the mountaintop with these two refined women and this kindly man with the friendly heart and splendid body and brain he deemed worth a lifetime spent more sordidly here and now he felt himself able to weigh true values and learned that the usual ambitions of mortals houses and gear and places of precedence could become the end of existence only to those whose desires had become distorted by the world's estimates now he understood how a man might live for a woman's smile or give his life for the touch of her hand or how he might hunger for the pressing of children's lips to his own the warm friendships of life grew to their true proportions in the vast scheme of things as he looked in the big man's eyes and answered his kindly banter I see it takes a genius to be a discreet and wise liar Amalia is lacking there, for me I might learn now pocket your blarney long enough to tell me why you called me a scotchman how would I know the difference between a bronco and a mule? by the earmarks, boy I've lived in the world long enough to know men if there be only a drop of scotch blood in a man he shows it like the mule he braves at the wrong time or he settles back and stands when he should go forward oh, there's many a sign to enlighten the wise he rose and knocked the ashes from his pipe and thrust it in his pocket and began to look over his pack which had not been opened two good-sized sacks hung on either side of the pack mule had held most of his purchases all carefully tied in separate bundles the good man had not been sparing of his gold since he had so long exiled himself having no use for what he had accumulated he had now reveled in spending we're to live like lords and ladies now, Harry I've two silver plates and they're for the ladies for us we'll eat off the tin as before and silver mugs for their drink, see? I would have got them china but it's too likely to break now here's a luxury I've brought and it was heavy to carry, too here's 24 panes of glass I carried them 12 on each side of my horse like that slung so, see? that's two windows of two sash each and six panes to a sash oh, they're small but see what a luxury for the women to do their pretty work by and there's work for you to be making the sash I've done my share of that sort of thing in building the cabin for you and then, young man I'll set you to digging out the gold that's work that'll put the worth of your body to the test and the day will come when you'll need it I doubt my ever having much need of gold but whatever you set me at I'll do to the best of my ability you may have your doubts but I have none men are like bees they must ever be laying by something even if they have no use for it as Larry talked, he continued to sort over his purchases and Harry looked on astounded at their variety in number while apparently oblivious of the younger man's interest and absorbed in his occupation, whistling and turning the bundles over in his hands as he tallied them off he now and then shot a keen glance in his companion's face he had noticed the change in Harry and was alert to learn the cause he found him more talkative, more eager and awake he suspected Harry had passed through some mental crisis but of what nature he was at a loss to determine certainly it had made him a more agreeable companion than the gloom of his former manor I'll dig for the gold indeed I will but I'd like to go on a hunt now and then I'd like a shot at the beast we saw sniffing over the spot where I sat all night waiting for you to appear it will no longer be safe for Amalia to wander about alone as she did before she hurt her ankle the creature was after sheep he'll find his prey growing scarcer now that the railroad is so near in ten years or less these mountain sheep will be extinct that's the result of civilization my boy I'd like to shoot this panther though we'll have to set a bait for him and that means a deer or a sheep must go we'll do it soon too you've reconciled Madame Mnowska to your coming home without her husband I didn't think it possible give me a lesson in diplomacy will you wait till I light my pipe now first you must know there are several kinds of lying and you must learn which kinds are permissible and otherwise with his pipe between his teeth Larry stood a mock gravity about his mouth and a humorous twinkle in his eyes while he looked down on Harry and told off the lies on his fingers first there's the fool's lie you'll know it because there's no purpose in it and there's the rogue's lie and as we're neither fools nor rogues we'll class them both as otherwise then there's the lie of pride and as that goes along with the fool's lie we'll throw it out with the otherwise and the coward's lie also goes with the otherwise Larry shook his fingers as if he tossed the four lies off from their tips and began again now here's the friend's lie a man risks his soul to save a friend good or to help him out of trouble very well and then there's the lover's lie it's what a lad tells his sweetheart that goes along with what she tells him and comes by way of nature or you might class it along with your own Blarney let be lad I'm teaching you the diplomacy now then there's the lie of shame and the lie of sorrow wherein a man puts by for his own loved one's sake or his self-respect what's better covered that too comes by way of nature even as a dog crawls away to die alone and we'll accept it now comes the lie of the man who would tell a good tale for the amusement of his friends very well the nature of man loves it so we'll count it in and along with it comes a host of little lies like the sportsman's lie and the traveler's lie they all help to make life merry and the world can ill do without them but now comes the lie of circumspection you must learn to lie it without lying see it's the lie of wisdom and it's a very subtle thing and easily abused if a man uses it for a selfish cause and merely to pervert the truth it's a black lie and one of the very worst or he may use it in a good cause and it's fairly white it must be used with discrimination that's the lie I used for the poor madam down there but what did you say? she says to me and where is my husband? I reply madam your husband is in a very safe and secret place and that is true enough where his enemies will never find him and for all we know that is also true but I cannot understand why he did not come to me that is not like my husband no madam it is not but man must do what he must and the way was too long and arduous for his strength he could not take the long weary climb and no more could he true enough no madam you cannot go to him nor he come to you for the danger of the way and the wild beasts that are abroad looking for food and what more true than that for did not her daughter see one hunting for food so she covers her face with her hand and rocks herself back and forth and now lad here's where the Blarney comes in it's to tell her of the worth of her husband and what a loss it would be to the world if he were to die on the trail and what he would suffer if he thought she were unhappy and then in the ardor of my speech comes the straight lie I told her that he was writing the story of his life and that it was to be a great work which would bring about a tremendous revolution of justice and would bring confusion to his enemies until at last she holds up her head proudly and speaks of his wonderful intellect and goodness then she says he cannot come to me very good he is not strong enough no I go to him tomorrow think of that man what I had to meet and it was all to go over again I would call it very circumspect lying and in a good cause too to comfort the poor soul I told her of the snow and how surely she would die by the way and make her husband very sad he who is now happy in the writing of his book and that to do so would break his heart and cause his own death while to wait until spring and peace would be wiser because she might then descend the mountain in perfect safety so now she sits sowing and making things no man understands the use of she showed me the blouse she has made for you now that is the best medicine for her sick brain they're great women these two if we must have women about we're in luck to have women of their quality we are indeed I saw the women who follow the road as it creeps across the plains they're pitiful to see if these had been like them we'd have been obliged to take them in just the same but Lord be merciful to them I'm glad they're not on my mountain Larry shook his ponderous, grizzled head and turned again to his packages since they love to sow they may be making things for themselves next look you here is silk for gowns for women love adornment the best of them Harry paused his arms full of wood with which he was replenishing the fire and stared in amazement as Larry unrolled a mass of changeable satin wherein a deep cerise and green colouring shifted and shimmered in the firelight he held the rich material up to his own waist and looked gravely down on the long folds that dropped to the floor and coiled about his feet I told you we're to live like lords and ladies now man I'd like to see Amalia in a gown of this Harry dropped his wood on the fire and threw back his head and laughed he even lay down on the floor to laugh and rolled up until his head lay among the folds of satin then he sat up and taking the material between his fingers felt of it while the big man looked down on him gravely discomfited and what did you bring from Madame Mannyowska? black man black I'm no fool, I tell you I know what's discreet for an elderly lady then they gravely and laboriously folded together the yards of gorgeous satin and I'd have been glad of your measure to get you the suit of clothes you're needing lacking it, I got one for myself but for me they're a bit too small you'll maybe turn tailor and cut them still smaller for yourself take them and if they're no fit you'll laugh out of the corner of your mouth the two men stood for a moment sheepishly eyeing each other while Harry held the clothes awkwardly in his hands I... I did need them he choked a bit and then laughed again so did I need them yours and mine too Larry held up another suit see here mine are darker to keep you from thinking them yours and here are the buckskins for hunting I used to make them for myself but they had these for sale and I was by way of spending money so I bought them now with the blouses the women have made for you we're decent all at once dawned on Harry what a journey the big man had made and he fairly shouted Larry Kildine where have you been? I rode like the very devil for three days when once I was started I was crazed to go and see then I reached the end of the road from the coast this way did you know they're building the road from both ways at once? I didn't for I never went down to get news of the cities and they might have put the whole thing through without my even knowing of it if you hadn't tumbled in on me and told me of it it stirred me up a bit I left my horse in charge of one I thought I might trust and then took a train and rode over the new rails cleaned through to San Francisco and there I groveled around a day or two taking in the ways of men they're doing big things now that the two oceans are to be united by iron rails great changes will come like the wind the Lord knows when they will end now the women will be wanting us to eat I'm thinking and I'm not ready but eat we must when the hour comes and we've done nothing this whole morning but stand here and talk thus Larry grumbled as they trapped down to the cabin through the snow with the rolls of silk under his arm and the silver plates in his hand while Harry carried the sack of coffee and the paper for Amalia as they near the cabin the big man paused take these things in for me Harry I left something back in the shed drop that coffee and I'll fetch it as I come along now what kind of a lie would you call that sir since it's your courage you've left let be let be can't you see I'm going back after it so Harry carried in the gifts and Larry went back for his courage and donned his new suit of clothes to help him carry it and then came walking in with a jovial swagger and accepted the mother's thanks and Amalia's embrace with a marvelous ease especially the embrace with which he seemed mightily pleased end of chapter 23 recording by Robert Smith Chapel Hill North Carolina Chapter 24 of The Eye of Dread this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Anna Simon The Eye of Dread by Payne Erskine Chapter 24 Amalia's Fet the winter was a cold one and the snows fell heavily but a way was always kept open between the cabin and the father shed and also by great labour a space was kept cleared around the cabin and a part of the distance toward the fall so that the women might not be walled in their quarters by the snow with plenty to occupy them all the weeks sped swiftly and pleasantly Larry did a little trapping and hunting but toward midwinter the sport became dangerous because of the death of the snow and with the exception of stalking a deer now and then for fresh food he and Harry spent the most of their time burrowing in the mountain for gold Amalia's crutches were gradually laid aside until she ran about as lightly as before but even had she not been prevented by the snow she would not have been allowed to go far away from the cabin alone the men baited and lay in wait for the panther and at last shot him but Larry knew from long experience that when the snows were deep panthers often haunted his place and their tracks were frequently seen higher up the mountain where he was one to hunt the mountain sheep sometimes Harry King rode with Amalia with a wind that swept the grey bear to wet the bend in the trail and would bring her back glowing and happy from the exercise sometimes when the storms were fierce without and he suspected Larry longed for his old time seclusion he sat in the cabin at these times Amalia redeemed her promise to teach him French few indeed were the books she had for help in giving these lessons one little unbound book of old solace and songs and a small pamphlet of more modern poems that her father had loved were all except his Bible which, although it was in Polish contained copious annotations in her father's hand in French and between the leaves of which lay loose pages filled with concise and plainly written meditations of his own these Amalia loved and handled with reverence and for Harry King they had such vital interest that he learned them more rapidly that he might know all they contained he no longer wondered at her power and breadth of thought as he progressed he found in them a complete system of ethics and religious faith their writers seemed to have drawn from all sources intrinsically vital truths and separated them from their encumbering theologic verbiage in dogma and had traced them simply through to the great sermon on the mount in a few pages this great man had comprised the deepest logic and the sweetest and widest theology enough for all the world to live by and enough to guide nations in safety if only all men might learn it it was sufficient he knew Amalia better and more deeply he reverenced and loved her he no longer quivered when he heard her mention the virgin or when she spoke of this sweet Christ it was not what his old dogmatic ancestry had fled from as popri it was her simple direct faith in a living Christ which gave her eyes their clear far-seeing vision and her heart its quick responsive intuition and understanding she might speak of the convent where she had been protected and loved and taught many things useful and good other than legends and doctrines she had learned how through her father's understanding and study to gather out the good and leave the rest in all things and Harry learned his French he was an apt scholar and Larry fell in line for he had not forgotten the scholastic Latin and French of his college days he liked indeed to air his French occasionally although his accent was decidedly English but his grammar was good and a great help to Harry Mara Manowska also enjoyed his efforts and suggested that when they were all together they should converse in the French alone not only that they might help Harry but also that they might have a common language it was to her and Amalia like their native tongue and their fluency for a time quite baffled Larry but he was determined not to be beaten and when Harry folded and refused to go on he pounded him on the back and stirred him up to try again although Amalia's convent training had greatly restricted her knowledge of literature other than religious her later years of intimate companionship with her father and their mother's truly remarkable knowledge of the classics and fearless investigation of the modern thought of her day had enlarged Amalia's horizon while her own vivid imagination and her native geniality caused her to lighten always her mother's more sombre thought with a delicate and gracious play of fancy that was at once fascinating and delightful this and Harry's determination to live to the utmost in these weeks of her spite made him at times almost gay most of all he reveled in Amalia's music certain melodies that she said her father had made he loved especially and sometimes she would accompany them with a plaintive chant half singing and half recitation half the sonnet which had inspired them and which had been woven through them it was at these times that Larry listened with his elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed on the fire and Harry with his eyes on Amalia's face while the cabin became to him glorified with a light no longer from the flames but with a radiance like that which surrounded Dante's Beatrice in Paradise Amalia loved to please Larry Kildine for this reason knowing the joy he would take in it but also because she loved color and light and joy and the giving of joy she took the gorgeous silk he had brought her and made it up in a fashion of her own down in the cities she knew women were wearing their gowns spread out over wide hoops but she made the dress as she knew they were worn at the time Larry had lived among women and had seen them most the bodice she fitted closely and shaped into a long point in front and the skirt she gathered and allowed to fall in long folds to her feet the sleeves she fitted only to her elbows and gathered in them deep lace of her own making lace to dream about and the creation of which was one of those choice things she had learned of the good sisters of the convent about her neck she put a bertha, kerchief-wise and pinned it with a brooch of curiously wrought gold Larry, a discreet and circumspect liar thought of the emerald brooch she had brought him to sell for her and knowing how it would glow and blend among the changing tins of the silk he fetched it to her explaining that he could not sell it and that the bracelet had covered all she had asked him to purchase for her and some to spare she thanked him and fastened it to her bonus and handed the other to her mother there mama, when we have made you the dress Sir Kildeen have brought you you must wear this for it is beautiful with the black then we will have a fed and for the fed Sir Kildeen you must wear the very fine new clothes you have by and Mr. Airy will carry on him the fine new clothing and so will we be all attire most splendid I will make for you all the music you like the best and Mama Ma will speak then the great poems she have learned by heart and Sir Kildeen will tell the story you can relate so well of strange happenings oh it will be a fine good concert we all make here and you Mr. Airy, what will you do? I'll do the refreshments I'll roast corn and make coffee I'll be audience and call for more ah yes Angkor, Angkor the artists must always be very much praised very much so have I heard to make them content it is Sir Kildeen who will be the great artist and you must cry Angkor and honour him greatly with such calls then we will have the pleasure to hear many stories from him ah I like to hear them it was a strange life for Harry King this odd mixture of finest culture and high-bred delicacy of menna would what appear to be a total absence of self-seeking and a simple enjoyment of everyday work he found Amalia one morning on her knees scrubbing the cabin floor and for the moment it shocked him when they were out on the plains camping and living as best they could he felt it to be the natural consequence of their necessities when he saw her washing their clothes and making the best of their difficulties and doing hard things with their own hands but now that they were living in a civilised way he could not bear to see her or her mother doing the rough work Amalia only laughed at him see how fine we make all things if I will not serve for making clean the house why am I? it's not it doesn't make any difference what you do you're always beautiful ah Mr Harry you must say those compliments only in the French it's no language the English for those fine eloquences no I don't seem to be able to say anything I mean in French there's always a sort of make-believe talk with me our whole life here seems a sort of dream as if we were living in some wonderful bubble that will suddenly burst one day and leave us floating alone in space with nothing anywhere to rest on no no your mistake here's this floor very real and dirt on it to be washed away from your boots also very real is not go away Mr Harry but come tonight in your fine clothing for we have our fat Mama has finished her beautiful new dress and we will be gay it's good to be sometimes joyful is it not we have here no care only to make happy together and if we cannot do that all is somber and that evening indeed Amalia had her fat Larry told his best stories and Harry was persuaded to tell them a little of his life as a soldier and to sing a camp song more than this he would not do but he brought out something he had been reserving with pride a few little nuggets of gold during the weeks he had worked he had found little until the last few days but happening to strike a vein of or richer than any Larry had ever found the two men were greatly elated and had determined to interest the women by melting some of it out of the quartz in which it was bedded and turning out for each a golden bullet in Larry's mould they heaped hard wood in the fireplace and the cabin was lighted most gloriously while they waited for the red coals to melt the gold Amalia took her violin and played and sang it was nearly time for the rigor of the winter to abate but still a high wind was blowing and the fine snow was piling and drifting about the cabin and even sifting through the chinks around the window and door but the storm only made the brightness and warmth within more delightful when Larry drew his crucible from the coals and poured the tiny glowing stream into his moulds Amalia cried out with joy how that is beautiful how wonderful to dig such beauty from the dark ground down in the black earth ah mama look then Larry pounded each one flat like a coin and drilled through a small hole making thus for each a souvenir of the shining metal this is from Harry's first mining he said and it represents good hard labour he spiked out a lot of worthless dirt and stone to find this Amalia held a little disc in her hand and smiled upon it I love so this little precious thing now Mr. Harry what shall I play for you? it's yours to ask for me to play it is all I have that sonnet you played me yesterday the last line is the music of that is not my father's best you ask it yes then she began first playing after her own heart little dancing errors gay and fantastic and at last slid into a planter strain and recited the accompaniment of rhythmic words mon am a son secret ma vie a son mystère un amour éternel en un moment concus le mal est sans espoir au sujet du le terre et celle que la fait n'en a jamais rien su one minor note came and went and came again through the melody until the last tones fell on that note and were held suspended in tremulous plain elle dira lisant ses verres tout remplis d'elles quelle est donc cette femme et ne comprendra pas without pause she passed into a quick staccato and then descended to long drawn tones deep and full this is better but I've never played it for you because that it is Polish and to make it in English and so sing it it's hard you have heard of our great and good general Kosciuszko yes my father loved well to speak of him and also one very high officer under him I speak his name for you Julian Niemcziewicz this high officer I do not know how to say in English his rank but that is no matter he was writer and poet and soldier all at last he was exiled and sorrowful like my father sorrowful most of all because he might no more serve his country it is to this poet's own words which he wrote for his grave that my father have put in music the cry of his sorrow in Polish is it more beautiful but I sing it for you in English for your comprehending oh ye exiles who so long wander over the world where will you find a resting place for your weary steps what dove has its nest and the worm a clot of earth each man a country but the pole a grave it was indeed a cry of sorrow the will of a dying nation and as Amalia played and sang she became oblivious of all else a being inspired by lofty emotion while the two men sat in silence wandering and fascinated the mother's eyes glowed upon her out of the obscurity of her corner and her voice alone broke the silence I've heard my pole in the night of the desert where he made that music I've heard him so play and sing it that it would seem the stars must fall down out of this heavens with sorrow for it Amalia smiled and caught up her violin again we'll have no more of this sad music this night I will sing the wild song of the Ukraine most beautiful of all our country alas ours no more like that other the music is my father's but the poem is written by a son of the Ukraine Zaliski a melody clear and sweet dominated mounting to a note of triumph slender and tall she stood in the middle of the room the firelight played on the folds of her gown bringing out its color and brilliant flashes she seemed to hairy with a rich complexion and glowing eyes absorbed thus in her music a type of human splendor vigorous, vivid, adorable mostly in Polish but sometimes in English she again half sang half chanted now playing with the voice and again dropping to accompaniment only while they listened the mother in the shadows Larry gazing in the fire and hairy upon her me also as my mother the Ukraine me her son cradled on her bosom the enchantress she seized and with a sigh dropped at her mother's feet and rested her head on her mother's knee tell us now a poem you are fed with one good long poem from you you will understand me you do well understand what once you've heard she always spoke slowly and with difficulty when she undertook English and now she continued speaking rapidly to Amalia in her own tongue and her daughter explained my mother says she will tell you a poem composed by a great poet French who is now for patriotism to his country in exile his name is Victor Hugo you've surely heard of him yes she says she'll repeat this which you have by head and because that it is not familiar to you she asks will I tell it in English if you so desire again Madame Manowska addressed her daughter and Amalia said she thinks this high mountain and the plain below and that we are exiled from our own land makes her think of this only that the conscience has never for her like for Cain but only to those who have so long persecuted my father with imprisonment and drive him so far to terrible places she thinks they must always with never stopping see the eye that regards forever there's also Mr Victor Hugo know well since for his country he also is driven in exile and can see the terrible eye go to punish his enemies then Madame Manowska began repeating in her strong deep tones the lines lorsque avec ses enfants vêtu de peau de bête et chevelle livide au milieu du tempest Cain se fut enfoui de défendre Jehovah comme le soir tombait l'homme sombre arriva au bas du montagne en un grand plein sa femme fatiguée et ses fils hors d'allait lui dire couchons-nous sur la terre et dormons oh mama that is so sad that poem but continue I will make it in English so well as I can and for the mistakes, errors of my telling you will forgive this is the story of the terrible man Cain how he go with his children all in the skins of animals dressed his hares so wild he runs in the midst of the storms to hide himself from God and at last in the night to the foot of a mountain on a great plain he arrive and his wife and sons with no breath and very tired say to him let us hear on the earth lie down and sleep thus as Madame Manowska recited Amalia told the story in her own words and Harry King listened wrapped and tense to the very end while the fire burned low the shadows closed around them but Cain did not sleep lying there by the mountain for he saw always in the far shadows the fearful eye of the condemning power fixed with great sorrow upon him then he cried I am too near and with trembling he awoke his children and his wife and began to run furiously into space so for thirty days and thirty nights he walked always pale and silent trembling and never to see behind him without rest or sleeping until they came to the shore of a far country named Asur now rest we here for we are come to the end of the world and are safe but as he seated himself and looked there in the same place on the far horizon he saw in the sorrowful heavens the eye then Cain called on the darkness to hide him and Jabal his son parent of those who live in tents and wondered about him on that side the cloth of his tent and Silla the little daughter of his son asked him you see now nothing and Cain replied I see the eye encore then Jabal his son father of those who live in towns and blow upon clarions and strike upon tambours cried I will make one wall of bronze and put Cain behind it but even still Cain said the eye regards me always then Hanok said I will make a place of towers so terrible that no one dare approach to him build we a city of citadels build we a city and there fasten shut close then Jubal Cain father of men who make of iron constructed one city enormous superhuman and while that he laboured his brothers in the plane drove far away the sons of Enos and the children of Seth and the families of all who pass that way and the night came when the walls of covering of tents were not and in their place were walls of granite every block immense fastened with great nails of iron and the city seemed a city of iron and the shadow of its towers made night upon the plane and about the city were walls more high than mountains and when all was done they graved upon the door defences adieu d'entrée old father Cain in a tower of stone in the midst of the city and he said there somber and haggard oh my father the eye has now disappeared as the child Silla and Cain replied no it is always there I will go and live under the earth as in his sepulcher a man alone there nothing can see me more and I no more can see anything then made they for him one cavern this is well and he descended alone under this somber vault and set upon a seat in the shadows and when they had shut down the door of the cave the eye was there in the tombs regarding him thus seated at our mother's feet Amalia rendered the poem as her mother recited while the firelight played over her face and flashed in the silken folds of her dress when she had finished the fire was low and the cabin almost in darkness no one spoke Larry still gazed in the dying ambas and Harry still sat with his eyes fixed on Amalia's face Victor Hugo he is a very great man as my husband have say said the mother at last ah mama for Cain maybe yes the eye never closed but now have man hope or why was the christ and the holy virgin it is the forgiving of god they bring for love of the poor human and who is sorrowful for his wrong he is forgive with peace in his heart is not end of chapter 24