Neith Boyce

“ They were on the veranda, after a late breakfast, and Philip was stretched out in a wicker steamer-chair, smoking. Near him sat Hilda, with her back to an opening in the green bamboo blinds, so that beyond her he saw the deep blue of sea and sky, with white-tipped waves tumbling gloriously in and tiny clouds sailing before a strong breeze. That background of morning blue made a wonderful setting for Hilda. She was dressed in crisp, white duck, with a broad, light felt hat set carelessly on her black hair, and she looked as strong and full of physical life as the sea itself. ”

“ Lovell would be content indefinitely, sitting on the porch of the inn with her woolwork and a book. Beside their party there were three other people stopping there—two hunters, who had gone off before day-break, and a consumptive doctor from the East, who slept out of doors under a pine shelter, and whose intelligent and tragic face had interested Hilda at breakfast.
If this air could not cure him, she thought now, he must be already a dead man. To breathe it was to breathe in life. ”

“ She sprang up, and Philip rather reluctantly left his steamer-chair and followed her out to the walk along the cliff.
This was Hilda as he remembered her—as he had first known her, fallen in love with her, wooed her. There could be no supine ease in her company—at least for the present! She had said she wanted him to take his ease—oh, yes, Hilda's creed was freedom, “live and let live,” and all that. But, as a matter of fact, where was there a deity with a more absolute will, even in trifles—a more passionate desire for her own way? This was Hilda, this was the girl who had enthralled him. ”

“ Hilda wandered aimlessly on, careful only to keep in hearing the whir of a rough sawmill, which stood near the inn, and which blended at a distance with the tap-tapping of innumerable woodpeckers.
Her thoughts went back to the hunters, and she wondered how they had spent the night. She wondered if—together there, with no possibility of being at ease with so much unspoken between them—they might not speak out. If they did, the initiative would come from Adrian. Philip, she was sure, would come first to her. Adrian—there was no predicting what he would do. He might do impossible things. ”

“ As her eyes fell on Hilda, she uttered a cry. Hilda was studying the doctor's face. He was young; he seemed very ill. He was bent and emaciated. But now for the moment he stood erect, he appeared full of energy. His hollow eyes were lighted by a sudden glow of life. He spoke in a quick, curt, decided voice, and his look at Hilda was resolute and cool.
“I am going with you,” she said.
“How can you go? There's only one horse here, and I cannot walk so far.”
“But I can. I am very strong.”
“You will be in the way. There is only one small cabin—one room.” ”

“ Philip softly added, “is like breathing in new life. What a gorgeous creature you are, Hilda! Only you make me feel rather like a ghost.”
“And you look rather like one, too, you poor boy! But I expected you to be tired out—your letters sounded so, somehow. And I thought that instead of this semicivilized place you'd like that little valley high in the mountains, where there are the big pine woods to wander in, and not a soul that we need see. And there's a nice primitive little inn where mother can stay, and she won't bother us. She's willing to go—I asked Adrian, too.” ”

“ I've had to do it for eight years, and I'm tired of it, Adrian! I'm tired of seeing people drift along, living according to chance and without reason; thinking of nothing but pleasure or what indulgence they can get—I don't want to live that way! Sometimes I've felt like joining a sisterhood—really going in for the other sort of thing!”
Adrian laughed harshly at that.
“You'd be very picturesque in the garb,” he said. “And you'd have about as much joy of life as you'll get with Philip. Lord, Hilda, do you expect me to stand here calmly and talk about your marrying him?” ”

“ Hilda asked finally. “How is he?”
Philip laughed ruefully.
“Oh, he's an old Roman!” he said. “Poor old fellow, it's bully the way he takes things—and rather pathetic, too. He tries to go on exactly as he used—keeps up the house just the same, goes through his ordinary routine, lives in military fashion by rule and regulation, as he always has. Only somehow a cog has slipped, you see—the machinery jars—he's often at a loss what to do with himself, though he won't admit it. He's a stoic, you know.” ”

“ Ryerson met her look, and said abruptly: “Don't be frightened—it's perfectly natural,” and walked away. He put another log on the fire, which was dying down, and then went to the door. But he could not, without leaving the cabin, get out of ear-shot of that pleading, protesting voice. And Hilda, sitting near Philip's bed, felt the tears running down her face as she listened, and knew that a stranger must perforce listen to those broken sentences that betrayed the unconscious man's mind. ”

“ He sat down on the log and wiped his brow. “I suppose I'm almost as glad as you are,” he added.
Hilda looked at him, absorbed by an idea which suddenly struck her. Supposing it had been possible for Adrian to do that thing of purpose? She knew it was not. Adrian was not a violent man. He had none of the primeval emotions of the wood god. He might be morally willing to push a troublesome human being out of his path, but he would not shed that being's blood—warm, red, unpleasant blood—for any consideration. She smiled oddly as she thought this, and Adrian resented her smile. ”

“ Hilda followed behind the horse, and tears were in her eyes—tears for this man before her. The blow that had fallen on her personally was as yet too heavy to be realized—it benumbed her. But this she could see and feel—this spectacle of a dying man spending perhaps his last strength to try and save another, who might be dying, too.
V.
Higher up, the trail became more and more difficult; at last it was marked only by blazed trees. They lost it several times, and then Adrian and Hilda searched in different directions. As the light faded they all grew more anxious. ”

“ Don't, now you've come—don't leave me—don't! How beautiful you are! You know you're more beautiful than you used to be, even.” He stopped for a moment with a quick-drawn breath, like a sigh, and then said, in a lower, more indistinct tone: “Waiting—waiting—waiting. How hot it is—open the windows.”
Hilda looked imploringly at Ryerson.
“He's delirious!” she whispered.
He shook his head and whispered in answer: “Talking in his sleep. Result of the shock. It doesn't mean anything bad.”
Philip's eyes were closed. ”

“ Since all was going well with Philip, what better place could there be?
She sat down on a log and looked at the cabin roof, the chimney from which sweet wood smoke rose, the lighted windows, across which shadows came and went. Vaguely she was aware that she heard the rhythmic sound of ax blows at a little distance in the wood. They ceased. Then a man came toward her, half-dragging, half-rolling a small tree, stripped of its branches. It was Adrian. ”

“ When she came back to the cabin, Adrian was gone.
Ryerson met her at the door, and asked her to stay outside, by the fire Bill Jordan had built beside the rock. Philip, he said, was going to have a bad night.
“I told you not to excite him!” he said irritably.
“Oh, is he worse? But I couldn't help it,” faltered Hilda. “Indeed I couldn't—he would talk!”
“Oh, yes, of course!” Ryerson glared at her implacably, and added, with conviction: “It's such women as you that kill men.” ”

“ It seemed ages long—that stumbling progress up the slippery slope. Finally it came abreast of her; the rider, shaken by a sudden fit of coughing, bent forward over the saddle-peak, pressing his handkerchief to his lips. His eyes were closed, and Hilda thought that in spite of his clutch on the saddle-peak, he was going to fall from the horse. She went on by his side, watching him anxiously. In a few moments the coughing ceased; he opened his eyes and looked at her. She saw in them deadly weariness, physical pain; then the waking of pride, the instinct of self-control, of self-obliteration. ”

“ Bill was not within hearing. Hilda understood, and went noiselessly toward the door. But Philip's weak voice stopped her.
“I tell you I saw her. I know she's here. What's the use of trying to fool me? Hilda!”
“Now, see here,” said Ryerson. “You're right, she is here. You behave yourself and keep quiet, and when we get you fixed up a bit you can see her.”
He nodded to Hilda, with a smile, and she went out, her heart beating fast with joy. He was much better—and to-morrow would be the third day!
Bill Jordan was constructing a log cabin in miniature on the slope above the house. ”

“ There could not be much talk while they were facing the wind along the cliff edge; it blew the breath from their mouths, and beat on them with a joyous fury, forcing deep into their lungs the fresh, strong breath of the sea. ”

“ Hilda snatched it off in a moment, seized a basin from the floor, and hurried out. Then she got a pail half-full of cold water, and towels and soap from her bag.
“Thank you,” said Ryerson dryly.
Then she ventured to say to him:
“I must stay here—you know I can't be down there, so far away. Now, tell me what I can do—how I can help.”
“I don't know,” he said wearily. “Just look round and see. Can you cook?”
“I—I can try.”
“I thought not. Well, Bill Jordan's a handy man, and that's lucky. We can keep that chap busy on the trail, fetching things—it's all he's good for.” ”

“ For before he went back into the cabin he said to Hilda abruptly:
“I told you a little while ago that you were the sort of woman that kills men. It's true. But also you're the sort that—makes us live.”
He left her with those words.
She sat a long time beside the fire. Bill Jordan brought her out some wraps, and gave her a cup of hot coffee. Later he announced that Philip was quieter, and that Ryerson had said she might come in now if she wanted sleep. She shook her head. Then he came out to say that Philip had finally fallen asleep. The tears rolled down her cheeks at that. ”

“ Adrian came to lunch; and Priscilla Owen, a married cousin of Hilda's, also. The two men met, for the first time in a number of years, without any pretense of warmth. They were of opposite types; as different in all other ways as they were in looks. Nothing could have contrasted more strikingly with Adrian's physical picturesqueness than Philip's conventionalized mold. Philip at first sight looked the typical city man of affairs; his face was worn and disciplined—keen, firm, and clear in line; the eyes characteristically cool, though friendly. Individuality was not rampant in him, as in Adrian ”

“ I will send word. We know nothing yet.”
She went hastily out on the veranda. The doctor was already mounted, with various bundles strapped on the peaks of his saddle. He gave some last orders to the innkeeper, Donohoe, in a tone of military curtness, then with a glance at Hilda picked up his bridle, and the bronco moved off into the trail which led up the mountainside.
Adrian followed. He carried a heavy knapsack. As Hilda joined him he looked at her dully, without surprise, and drew a long breath. ”

“ He had gone down to the inn, with the bronco, and then had hired a man and established a regular channel of communication between the inn and the lodge. The man had returned with supplies and a note from Mrs. Lovell. She was no longer alone, it seemed. The news of the accident had spread fast, and Priscilla had rushed up to the valley and would come to Hilda, if permitted. Hilda had sent word by return of the messenger that things were well as they were.
Then, later in the afternoon, Adrian had come back, apparently rested and refreshed in body at least. ”

“ Philip was conscious, but very weak, Ryerson reported, when she came back; there were no bad symptoms so far, and later in the day it was probable that she might see him. Bill Jordan cooked the breakfast over a fire in the open, and they ate it on a flat rock before the cabin door. Then the doctor went to sleep in the shelter; Jordan took the watch over the patient; and Hilda and Adrian found themselves alone together out of doors. Hilda was washing dishes in a pail of warm water, and Adrian tried to help her, laying down the pipe he had just lit. ”

“ She was terrified by this gentleness, and went away trembling. “He thinks he will die,” she said over and over to herself, almost mechanically. She went to the door and looked in; but now the bunk where Philip lay was shut off By a screen of blankets, and she could not see him. The door stood open because of the heat of the fire, though the night air was crisp and in motion. Bill Jordan was moving swiftly and quietly about, opening the bundles they had brought and putting the room in order. Hilda saw that she could help in this ”

“ And it seemed as simple as that. At any rate, why worry and distress one's self, in such a world of beauty and energy?
She smiled to herself, as she felt the glow of life in her body; that was hope and joy in itself! She was happy in that she was intensely alive; and this feeling, the strongest she had yet known, had been roused in her by Adrian. When she thought, she thought about Philip. When she dreamed, it was of a brief yielding to an impulse that she had rejected and denied.
IV.
Hilda knew, as soon as she saw her mother standing on the veranda, that something was wrong. Mrs. ”