Harriet T. Comstock

“ Where Jan-an had recently sat, struggling with her doubts and fears, Mary-Clare seemed to be. And yet it was not so much Mary-Clare, visually imagined, as that which had gone into the making of the woman.
The black, fierce night of her birth; her isolated up-bringing with a man whose mentality had overpowered his wisdom; the contact with Larry Rivers; the forced marriage and the determined effort to live up to a bargain made in the dark, endured in the dark. It came to Northrup, drifting as he was, that a man or woman can go through slime and torment and really escape harm. ”

“ A hot wave of anger enveloped Kathryn, but she did not speak.
“Kathryn”––Northrup grew restive at her silence––“haven’t you anything to say to me? Something I can remember––over there? I’d like to think of you as I see you now, little, pretty, and loving. The blue gown, the jolly fire, this fine old room––I reckon there will be times when my thoughts will cling to the old places and my own people rather fiercely.”
“What can I say, Brace? You never see my position. Men are selfish always, even about their horrible fights. What do they care about their women, when the call of blood comes? ”

“ Breathing hard, Mary-Clare came back to the present. She could not know until she had lived, and being married did not stop life. And now, Mary-Clare could consider, as if apart from herself, from the girl who had married Larry because he had caught the dying request of the old doctor. She had wanted to do right at that last tragic moment. 37 She had done it with the false understanding of reality and found out the truth––by living. It had seemed to her, in her ignorance, the only way to relieve the suffering of the dying: to help Larry who was deprived of everything. ”

“ Slowly, like one coming into consciousness, Mary-Clare drew one hand from Northrup’s, wiped her eyes, and then––let it fall again into his!
“I can see clearer now,” she faltered. “Please, please try to understand. It is because love means so much to some women, that when they think it out with their women-minds they will be very careful of it. They will feel about it as men do about their honour. There must be times when love must stand aside if they want to keep it! I know how queer and crooked all this must sound, but men do not stop loving if their honour makes them turn from it. ”

“ Northrup raised his head. Manly took heed and rambled on; he saw that he was making an impression at last.
“Queer things jog you into consciousness when you detach yourself from your moorings. A mountain-top, a baby’s hold on your finger, when you’re about to hurt it. A sunset, a woman’s face; a moment when you realize your soul! You’re never the same after, Northrup, but you do your job better and your slit in the wall is wider. Man, you need a jog.”
“What jogged you, Manly?”
This was daring. People rarely questioned Manly. ”

“ But when Kathryn was offered, she was overjoyed. Kathryn was part of the dear, familiar life; the daughter of old friends. Helen Northrup felt that she was blessed beyond all mothers. The thing, to her, seemed so exactly right. That the marriage did not take place had hardly disturbed her. Kathryn was young, Brace was winning, not only a home for the girl, but honour, and there was always time. Time is such a splendid heritage of youth and such a rare relic of age. ”

“ Her name was never mentioned but to the imaginative, sensitive Mary-Clare, she became, for that very reason, a clearly defined and potent influence. She was responsible for the doctor’s lonely life in King’s Forest; for Larry’s long absences from home; for the lines that grew between the old doctor’s eyes when he laid down the few simple laws of conduct that formed the iron code of life:
Never lie. Never break a promise. Never take advantage for selfish gain. Think things out with your woman brain, and never count the cost if you know it is right. ”

“ Mary-Clare was desperate. It was like trying to save someone from a flood that was carrying him to the rapids. The unreality of the situation alone made anything possible, but Kathryn suddenly reduced the matter to the deadly commonplace.
“No, I do not believe you,” she said bitterly. “I am a woman of the world. I hate to say what I must, but there is so little time now, and there will be no time later on, so you’ll have to take what you have brought upon yourself. ”

“ Mary-Clare did not notice the interruption. She was doing battle for more than Northrup guessed. She hoped he would never know the truth, but the battle must be fought if all the beautiful weeks of joy were to be saved for the future. The idealism that the old doctor had desperately hoped might save, not destroy, Mary-Clare was to prove itself now.
“There are so many endings in life, that it is hard, in a book, to choose just one. Why should there be an end to a book?” ”

“ Then Northrup felt new sensations driving across that state which really was himself shorn of prejudice and limitations. His relation to Mary-Clare was changed!
There were primitive forces battling for expression in his lax hour. Setting the woman free from bondage––what for?
That was the world-old call. Not free for herself, but free that another might claim her. He, sitting there, wanted her. She had not altered that by her heroism. Who would help her free herself, for herself? Who would cut her loose and make no claims? Would it be possible to help her and not put her under obligation? ”

“ Larry had reduced it to the ugliest aspect, and by so doing had turned her thoughts where they might never have turned and upon the stranger who might always have remained a stranger.
Alone in the deadly quiet room, the girl of Mary-Clare passed from sight and the woman was supreme; a little hard, in order to combat the future: quickened to a futile sense of injustice, but young enough, even at that moment, to demand of life something vital; something better than the cruel thing that might evolve unless she bore herself courageously. ”

“ Northrup felt that if, at the end of his self-ordained exile, he had regained his health, outlined a book, and ascertained what was the cause of the suspicious unrest of the Forest, he would have accomplished more than he had set out to do and would be in a position where he could decide definitely upon his course regarding the war, about which few, apparently, felt as he did.
It was his spiritual and physical struggle, as he contemplated the matter now, that was his undoing. He was trying to drive the horror from his consciousness, as a thing apart from him and his. ”

“ Northrup’s imagination came to the fore fully equipped. Northrup was a man of the herd––at least he had been, until lately. He knew the tracks of the herd and its laws and codes.
“The brute!” he muttered under his breath; “and that kind of a girl, too. Nothing is too fine for some devils to appropriate and––smirch. Poor little girl!”
And then Northrup recalled Mary-Clare as he had seen her that day as she emerged from the woods to meet him and her child. The glory of Peneluna’s story was in her soul, the autumn sunlight on her face. ”

“ We get so used to winter, and live so close, that sometimes we don’t know spring is near. But it is, Peter, it is always on the edge of winter and God has made dogs terrible knowing. See! There, now, Ginger old fellow, what’s the matter?”
Polly flung the door open and Ginger gave a glad cry and leaped out. A soft breath of air touched the two gentle old people in the doorway and a fragrance of young, edgy things thrilled them.
“Peter dear, spring is here!” Polly said this like a prayer.
“Spring!” Peter’s voice echoed the sound. Then he turned to the closet for his coat and hat. ”

“ Aunt Polly knew the girl’s mood and left her to herself. She had come to tell something but must tell it in her own way. To question, to intrude a thought, would only tend to confuse and distract her, so Polly took up her knitting and nodded cheerfully. She had a feeling that all along she had been waiting for Mary-Clare.
“I suppose big things like being born and dying are very simple when they come. It is the mistaking the big and little things that makes us all so uncertain. Aunt Polly, Larry has left me.” ”

“ This struggle to finish his work in the face of the stubborn facts at moments obliterated the crusading spirit; the doubts of Kathryn and even Mary-Clare’s pervading insistence. He hated to be beaten at his own job.
Love’s supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman––must be man’s ideal, of course!
The ugly business of the world had to be got through, and man often had to set love aside––for honour. “But, good Lord!” Northrup argued, apparently to his useless right hand, what would become of the spiritual, if woman got to setting up little gods and bowing down before them? ”

“ And, all unconsciously, while this moral indignation had its way, Northrup was drawing nearer to Mary-Clare; understanding her, appropriating her! God knew he meant no wrong. After all she had suffered he wasn’t going to mess her life more––but he’d somehow make up to her what she’d a perfect right to. All men were not low and bestial. He had a duty––he would be above the touch of idle chatter; he would take a hand in the game!
And just then Northrup, controlled by the force of attraction, turned his head and looked at the face of Mary-Clare upon the couch near him! ”

“ There are moments in life when human beings are aware of being but puppets in a big game; they may tug at the strings that control them; may perform within certain limits, but must resign themselves to the fact that the strings are unbreakable. Such a feeling possessed Northrup now. He laughed. He was not inclined to struggle––he bowed to the inevitable with a keen desire for coöperation.
At this point something caused Northrup to look around. ”

“ The simplicity of the question demanded a crude reply.
“I’m not going to have any more children.” Out of the maze of complicated ideals and gropings this question and answer emerged, devastating everything in their path. They meant one, and only one, thing to Larry Rivers.
There were some things that could illume his dark stretches and level Mary-Clare’s vague reachings to a common level. Both Larry and Mary-Clare were conscious now of being face to face with a grave human experience. They stood revealed, man and woman. The big significant things in life are startlingly simple. ”

“ The lake lay like an opal, flashing gorgeously in the sun, or like a moonstone, when the sun sank behind the hills.
One afternoon Northrup went to the deserted chapel on the island. He walked around the building which was covered with a crimson vine; he looked up at the belfry, in which hung the bell so responsive to unseen hands.
The place was like a haunted spot, but beautiful beyond words. Northrup tried the door––it swung in; it shared the peculiarities of all the other doors of the Forest. ”

“ Mary-Clare’s voice would always hold fear when she spoke of Maclin. “I do not know what would have happened to the Forest if––a Mrs. Dana had not come just when things were at the worst.”
There are occurrences in life that seem always to have been half known. Their acceptance causes no violent shock. As Mary-Clare spoke that name, Northrup for a moment paused, repeated it a bit dazedly, and, as if a curtain had been withdrawn, he saw the broad, illuminating truth! “You have heard of Mrs. Dana?” Mary-Clare asked. That Northrup knew so much did not surprise her. ”

“ Northrup had passed from sight; the white mists of the morning were rolling and breaking. He would wait––if Mary-Clare was in the cabin, and Larry believed she was, he could afford to bide his time. Indeed, it was the only thing to do, for in a primitive fashion Rivers decided to deal only with his woman, and he meant to have a free hand. He would have no fight for what was not worth fighting for––he would solve things in his own way and be off before any one interfered. ”

“ Kathryn’s conclusion drove her on the rocks; Mary-Clare’s startled her into a state of clear vision. She recovered her poise first. She smiled her perturbing smile; she came in and sat down and said quietly:
“I was surprised. I am still.”
Kathryn felt a wave of moral repugnance rise to her assistance. The clothes might disguise the real state of affairs––but the voice betrayed much. This was no crude country girl; here was something rather more difficult to handle; one need not be pitiful and condoning; one must not flinch.
“You expected, I suppose, to find Mr. Northrup?” ”

“ Larry always kept his best manners for public exhibition; his inheritance of refinement could be tapped at any convenient hour. Northrup knew his type. He had not recalled his father in years as he did now! A man legally sustained by his interpretation of marriage could make a hell or a heaven of any woman’s life. This truism took on new significance in the primitive Forest.
But in that Mary-Clare had had courage to escape from hell––and Northrup had pictured it all from memories of his boyhood––roused him to admiration. ”

“ Mary-Clare set her cup down sharply while Noreen with one of those whimsical turns of hers drawled in a sing-song:
“Old Philander Sniff, he died just like a whiff–––”
“Noreen!” Mary-Clare stared at the child while Jan-an chuckled in a rough, loose way as if her laugh were small stones rattling in her throat.
“Well, Motherly, Philander was a cruel old man. Just being dead don’t make him anything different but––dead.” ”

“ She was far more the primitive female than was Mary-Clare. She was simply claiming what she devoutly believed was her own; reclaiming it, rather, for she sagely concluded that on this runaway trip Northrup was in great danger and only the faith and love of a good woman could save him! Kathryn believed herself good and noble.
Mary-Clare had her Place in which she had been fed through many lonely, yearning years, but Kathryn had no such sanctuary. ”