Whats that? cried the Major.
The Colonel slammed the door.
Up-stairs the bull-terrier lay on a rug watching his mistress with tireless eyes. The maid brought tea, bread and butter, and trout fried crisp, for her mistress desired nothing else.
Left alone, she leaned back, sipping her tea, listening to the million tiny voices of the night. The stillness of the country made her nervous after the clatter of town. Nervous? Was it the tranquil stillness of the night outside that stirred that growing apprehension in her breast till, of a sudden, her heart began a deadened throbbing?
Langham here? What was he doing here? He must have arrived this morning. So that was where he was going when he said he was going north!
After all, in what did it concern her? She had not run away from town to avoid him, indeed not, her pilgrimage was her own affair. And Langham would very quickly divine her pious impulse in coming here And he would doubtless respect her for it Perhaps have the subtle tact to pack up his traps and leave But probably not She knew a little about Langham, an obstinate and typical man, doubtless selfish to the core, cheerfully, naïvely selfish
She raised her troubled eyes. Over the door was printed in gilt letters:
The Presidents Suite.
Tears filled her eyes; truly they were kindly and thoughtful, these old friends of her husband.
And all night long she slept in the room of her late husband, the president of the Sagamore Angling Club, and dreamed till daybreak of Langham.
V
Langham, clad in tweeds from head to foot, sat on the edge of his bed.
He had been sitting there since daybreak, and the expression on his ornamental face had varied between the blank and the idiotic. That the only woman in the world had miraculously appeared at Sagamore Lodge he had heard from Colonel Hyssop and Major Brent at dinner the evening before.
That she already knew of his presence there he could not doubt. That she did not desire his presence he was fearsomely persuaded.
Clearly he must go not at once, of course, to leave behind him a possibility for gossip at his abrupt departure. From the tongues of infants and well-fed club-men, good Lord deliver us!
He must go. Meanwhile he could easily avoid her.
And as he sat there, savoring all the pent-up bitterness poured out for him by destiny, there came a patter of padded feet in the hallway, the scrape of nails, a sniff at the door-sill, a whine, a frantic scratching. He leaned forward and opened the door. His Highness landed on the bed with one hysterical yelp and fell upon Langham, paw and muzzle.
When their affection had been temporarily satiated, the dog lay down on the bed, eyes riveted on his late master, and the man went over to his desk, drew a sheet of club paper towards him, found a pen, and wrote:
Of course it is an unhappy coincidence, and I will go when I can do so decently to-morrow morning. Meanwhile I shall be away all day fishing the West Branch, and shall return too late to dine at the club table.
I wish you a happy sojourn here
This he reread and scratched out.
I am glad you kept His Highness.
This he also scratched out.
After a while he signed his name to the note, sealed it, and stepped into the hallway.
At the farther end of the passage the door of her room was ajar; a sunlit-scarlet curtain hung inside.
Come here! said Langham to the dog.
His Highness came with a single leap.
Take it to her, said the man, under his breath. Then he turned sharply, picked up rod and creel, and descended the stairs.
Meanwhile His Highness entered his mistresss chamber, with a polite scratch as a by your leave! and trotted up to her, holding out the note in his pink mouth.
She looked at the dog in astonishment. Then the handwriting on the envelope caught her eye.
As she did not offer to touch the missive, His Highness presently sat down and crowded up against her knees. Then he laid the letter in her lap.
Her expression became inscrutable as she picked up the letter; while she was reading it there was color in her cheeks; after she had read it there was less.
I see no necessity, she said to His Highness I see no necessity for his going. I think I ought to tell him so He overestimates the importance of a matter which does not concern him He is sublimely self-conscious, a typical man. And if he presumes to believe that the hazard of our encounter is of the slightest moment to me
The dog dropped his head in her lap.
I wish you wouldnt do that! she said, almost sharply, but there was a dry catch in her throat when she spoke, and she laid one fair hand on the head of His Highness.
A few moments later she went down-stairs to the great hall, where she found Colonel Hyssop and Major Brent just finishing their morning cocktails.
When they could at last comprehend that she never began her breakfast with a cocktail, they conducted her solemnly to the breakfast-room, seated her with empressement, and the coffee was served.
It was a delicious, old-fashioned, country breakfast crisp trout, bacon, eggs, and mounds of fragrant flapjacks.
Langhams gone off to the West Branch; left dutys compliments and all that sort of thing for you, observed the Colonel, testing his coffee with an air.
His Highness, who had sniffed the bacon, got up on a chair where he could sit and view the table. Moisture gathered on his jet-black nose; he licked his jowl.
You poor darling! cried his mistress, rising impulsively, with her plate in her hand. She set the plate on the floor. It was cleaned with a snap, then carefully polished.
You are fond of your dog, madam, said the Major, much interested.
Hes a fine one, added the Colonel. Gad! I took him for Langhams champion at first.
She bent her head over the dogs plate.
Later she walked to the porch, followed by His Highness.
A lovely little path invited them on a path made springy by trodden leaves; and the dog and his mistress strolled forth among clumps of hazel and silver-birches, past ranks of alders and Indian-willows, on across log bridges spanning tiny threads of streams which poured into the stony river.
The unceasing chorus of the birds freshened like wind in her ears. Spring echoes sounded from blue distances; the solemn congress of the forest trees in session murmured of summers past and summers to come.
How could her soul sink in the presence of the young worlds uplifting?
Her dog came back and looked up into her eyes. With a cry, which was half laughter, she raced with him along the path, scattering the wild birds into flight from bush and thicket.
Breathless, rosy, she halted at the rivers shallow edge.
Flung full length on the grass, she dipped her white fingers in the river, and dropped wind-flowers on the ripples to watch them dance away.
She listened to the world around her; it had much to say to her if she would only believe it. But she forced her mind back to her husband and lay brooding.
An old man in leggings and corduroys came stumping along the path; His Highness heard him coming and turned his keen head. Then he went and stood in front of his mistress, calm, inquisitive, dangerous.
Mornin, miss, said the keeper; I guess you must be one of our folks.
I am staying at the club-house, she said, smiling, and sitting up on the grass.
Im old Peter, one o the guards, he said. Fine mornin, miss, but a leetle bright for the fish though I aint denyin that a small dark flyd raise em; nom. If I was sot on ketchin a mess o fish, I guess a hares-ear would do the business; yesm. I jest passed Mr. Langham down to the forks, and I seed he was a-chuckin a hares-ear; an he riz em, too; yesm.
Im old Peter, one o the guards, he said. Fine mornin, miss, but a leetle bright for the fish though I aint denyin that a small dark flyd raise em; nom. If I was sot on ketchin a mess o fish, I guess a hares-ear would do the business; yesm. I jest passed Mr. Langham down to the forks, and I seed he was a-chuckin a hares-ear; an he riz em, too; yesm.
How long have you been a keeper here? she asked.
How long, m? Waal, I was the fustest guard they had; yesm. I live down here a piece. They bought my water rights; yesm. An they give me the job. The president he sez to me, Peter, he sez, jest like that Peter, you was raised here; you know all them brooks an rivers like a mink; you stay right here an watch em, an Ill do the squar by ye, he sez, jest like that. An he done it; yesm.
So you knew the president, then? she asked, in a low voice.
Knew him? him? Yesm.
The old man laughed a hollow, toothless laugh, and squinted out across the dazzling river.
Knew him twenty year, I did. A good man, and fair at that. Why, Ive seen him a-settin jest where youre settin this minute seen him a hundred times a-settin there.
Fishing? she said, in an awed voice.
Sometimes. Sometimes he was a-drinkin out o that silver pocket-pistol o hisn. He got drunk a lot up here; but he didnt drink alone; nom. There wasnt a stingy hair in his head; he
Do you mean the president? she said, incredulously, almost angrily.
Him? Yesm. Him an Colonel Hyssop an Major Brent; they had good times in them days.
You knew the president before his marriage, she observed, coldly.
Him? He wasnt never married, miss! said the old man, scornfully.
Are you sure? she asked, with a troubled smile.
Sure? Yesm. Why, the last time he was up here, three year come July Fourth, I seen him a-kissin an a-huggin of old man Dawsons darter
She was on her feet in a flash. The old man stood there smiling his senile smile and squinting out across the water, absorbed in his garrulous reminiscence.
Yesm; all the folks down to the village was fond o the president, he was that jolly and free, an no stuck-up city airs; nom; jest free and easy, an a-sparkin the gals with the best o them
The old man laughed and crossed his arms under the barrel of his shot-gun.
Folks said he might o married old man Dawsons darter if hed lived. I dunno. I guess it was all fun. But I hear the gal took on awful when they told her he was dead; yesm.
VI
Towards evening Langham waded across the river, drew in his dripping line, put up his rod, and counted and weighed his fish. Then, lighting a pipe, he reslung the heavy creel across his back and started up the darkening path. From his dripping tweeds the water oozed; his shoes wheezed and slopped at every step; he was tired, soaked, successful but happy? Possibly.
It was dark when the lighted windows of the lodge twinkled across the hill; he struck out over the meadow, head bent, smoking furiously.
On the steps of the club-house Colonel Hyssop and Major Brent greeted him with the affected heartiness of men who disliked his angling methods; the steward brought out a pan; the fish were uncreeled, reweighed, measured, and entered on the club book.
Finest creel this year, sir, said the steward, admiringly.
The Major grew purple; the Colonel carefully remeasured the largest fish.
Twenty-one inches, steward! he said. Wasnt my big fish of last Thursday twenty-two?
Nineteen, sir, said the steward, promptly.
Then it shrank like the devil! said the Colonel. By gad! it must have shrunk in the creel!
But Langham was in no mood to savor his triumph. He climbed the stairs wearily, leaving little puddles of water on each step, slopped down the hallway, entered his room, and sank into a chair, too weary, too sad even to think.
Presently he lighted his lamp. He dressed with his usual attention to detail, and touched the electric button above his bed.
Im going to-morrow morning, he said to the servant who came; return in an hour and pack my traps.
Langham sat down. He had no inclination for dinner. With his chin propped on his clinched hands he sat there thinking. A sound fell on his ear, the closing of a door at the end of the hall, the padded pattering of a dogs feet, a scratching, a whine.
He opened his door; the bull-terrier trotted in and stood before him in silence. His Highness held in his mouth a letter.
Langham took the note with hands that shook. He could scarcely steady them to open the envelope; he could scarcely see to read the line:
Why are you going away?
He rose, made his way to his desk like a blind man, and wrote,
Because I love you.
His Highness bore the missive away.
For an hour he sat there in the lamp-lit room. The servant came to pack up for him, but he sent the man back, saying that he might change his mind. Then he resumed his waiting, his head buried in his hands. At last, when he could endure the silence no longer, he rose and walked the floor, backward, forward, pausing breathless to listen for the patter of the dogs feet in the hall. But no sound came; he stole to the door and listened, then stepped into the hall. The light still burned in her room, streaming out through the transom.
She would never send another message to him by His Highness; he understood that now. How he cursed himself for his momentary delusion! how he scorned himself for reading anything but friendly kindness in her message! how he burned with self-contempt for his raw, brutal reply, crude as the blurted offer of a yokel!
That settled the matter. If he had any decency left, he must never offend her eyes again. How could he have hoped? How could he have done it? Here, too! here in this place so sanctified to her by associations here, whither she had come upon her pious pilgrimage here, where at least he might have left her to her dead!
Suddenly, as he stood there, her door opened. She saw him standing there. For a full minute they faced each other. Presently His Highness emerged from behind his mistress and trotted out into the hall.
Behind His Highness came his mistress, slowly, more slowly. The dog carefully held a letter between his teeth, and when Langham saw it he sprang forward eagerly.
No, no! she said. I did not mean I cannot I cannot Give me back the letter!
He had the letter in his hand; her hand fell over it; the color surged into her face and neck. The letter dropped from her yielding hand; the thrill from their interlocked fingers made her faint, and she swayed forward towards him, so close that their lips touched, then clung, crushed in their first kiss
Meanwhile His Highness picked up the letter and stood politely waiting.
THE SHINING BAND
I
BEFORE the members of the Sagamore Fish and Game Association had erected their handsome club-house, and before they had begun to purchase those thousands of acres of forest, mountain, and stream which now belonged to them, a speculative lumberman with no capital, named OHara, built the white house across the river on a few acres of inherited property, settled himself comfortably with his wife and child, and prepared to acquire all the timber in sight at a few dollars an acre on credit. For thus, thought he, is the beginning of all millionaires.