Sara Ware Bassett

“ Marcia replied with a lift of her chin.
"And he has not volunteered any information?"
"No."
"Most men, if honest and caught in such an odd situation, would explain," continued Sylvia. "The very fact that Mr. Heath has not is suspicious in itself. He is guilty, Marcia—guilty."
"I do not believe it," was the stubborn protest.
"I realize, dear, it is hard for you to own it," soothed Sylvia. "We hate to admit the faults of those we—we—care for. Still, nothing is to be gained by remaining blind to them."
"You speak as if such a sin were a mere trivial flaw of character, Sylvia. ”

“ Sylvia repeated, her lip curling. "You call it love—the poor thing you offered her! Why, Marcia would have gone to the world's end with you, Stanley Heath, had she the right. She would have faced any humiliation for your sake. If prison doors closed upon you, she would have remained faithful until they swung open and afterward followed you to any corner of the earth in which you chose to begin a new life." ”

“ Probably never again in all her life would she hold in her hand so much wealth and beauty. No one, not Heath himself, could begrudge her a peep at the trinkets.
Accordingly she unwound the handkerchief and opened the box.
There lay the glistening heap of treasure, resplendent in the sunshine, a far more gorgeous spectacle than she had realized.
Going to the bureau, Sylvia took out the jewels, one by one.
She clasped the diamonds about her neck; fastened the emerald brooch in place; put on the sapphire pendant; then added the rings and looked at herself in the gold-framed mirror. ”

“ Alton City is a Garden of Eden compared with this town. The sooner you are married to me, young woman, and out of here the better. As for this remarkable aunt of yours—"
"Stop, Horatio! Stop right where you are," bridled Sylvia. "One more word against Marcia and back home you go so fast you won't be able to see for dust. I'm in earnest, so watch your step."
"The woman has bewitched you," frowned Horatio.
"She has. She bewitches everybody. She'll bewitch you." ”

“ Marcia is hard, merciless. Her conscience drives her to extremes. Even should you get her opinion, you would not follow it."
"What makes you so sure I wouldn't?"
"Because it would be madness, sheer madness. You'll realize that, as I do," insisted Sylvia with an impatient tapping of her foot. "Marcia stubbornly shuts her mind to the truth and will only look on one side. She just repeats the same words over and over again." ”

“ It would have meant so much!"
"Men are selfish—unfeeling. They forget," replied Marcia, bitterly. "You give your life to them and they toss aside your love and devotion as if it were so much rubbish."
The outburst, sharp with pain, burst from her involuntarily, awing Sylvia into silence.
What did she know of Jason, that dim heritage of her childhood? Of Marcia? Of their life together, she suddenly asked herself. ”

“ She has far out-distanced every other woman I ever have known. I simply expected too much of her, doubtless the impossible. Human nature is frail—a woman's heart the frailest thing of all. I have always said so."
"You wrong Marcia," cried Sylvia hotly. "Her heart is not frail. Neither is she the weak sort of person you have pictured. In all the world you could not match her loyalty or the depth of her affection. I owe Marcia a great debt. ”

“ After days of fog Stanley Heath, a stranger whose power-boat runs aground on the treacherous Cape Cod shoals, stumbles into the Homestead and into the life of Marcia Howe, a young widow with whom half the men in the village are already in love. Out of his clothing falls a leather case crammed with gems and the enigma of this puzzling possession provides the pivot around which the story revolves. Marcia's blind, intuitive belief in the man's innocence brings its own reward. ”

“ Meantime while she thus wrestled with the angel of her best self, Sylvia accepted the situation with characteristic lightness. Her life in this vast world and wide had been of short duration, but during its brief span she had learned a surprising amount about the earth and the human beings that peopled it.
She knew more already about men than did Marcia—much more. Long ago they had ceased to be gods to her. ”

“ Sylvia stifled her laughter. The whole thing was ironic.
Why, that very morning had not Elisha Winslow, the Wilton sheriff, who had frankly admitted he yearned for excitement, helped undress the wretch and put him comfortably to bed? The humor of the situation almost overcame her.
It seemed as if she must have someone to share the joke. But no one should. No! Nobody should be the wiser because of her. The poor, hunted fellow should have his chance. He was an under-dog and she had always been romantically sorry for under-dogs. ”

“ To me you are just a girl I'd be head-over-heels in love with if I were a man. I don't blame all the clams, lobsters, and flounders for flocking over here to make love to you."
"Stop talking nonsense."
"But it isn't nonsense. It's the truth. Isn't that precisely what they're doing? You certainly are not deluding yourself into thinking these men come gallivanting out here over the flats with the mere philanthropic purpose of seeing you don't starve to death, do you?" Sylvia demanded.
"Perhaps they come to see you," hedged Marcia feebly. ”

“ And Jason came and trampled on them—"
"He made me see life as it was. Perhaps it was better I should."
"We all have to see life as it is sooner or later. But there are plenty of years ahead in which to do it. The man who destroys the world of illusion in which a girl lives destroys something no one can ever give back to her."
"I don't know that I should say that," returned Marcia with a faint, shadowy smile as if pursuing some secret, intriguing fancy. ”

“ Convulsively she caught and clung to them.
"Now we must pull ourselves together, dear," went on Stanley gently. "It is important that we do not give ourselves away. Sylvia may know nothing and if she does not, we must not let her suspect. The fewer people there are mixed up in this dilemma the better."
"Yes."
She rose but he still held her hand, a common misery routing every thought of conventionality.
The firmness and magnetism of his touch brought strength. It was a new experience, for during her life with Jason, Marcia had been the oak—the one who consoled, sustained. ”

“ Perhaps Marcia is old-fashioned. Perhaps I am. In the villages where we have been brought up, we do not go in for the new standards sponsored by more up-to-date communities. We believe in marriage as a sacred, enduring sacrament—not a bond to be lightly broken. When you offered Marcia less than that—"
"I never offered Marcia any such shameful position, Sylvia," cried Stanley Heath. ”

“ Even after the girl had followed her indoors and during the interval they washed the breakfast dishes together, Sylvia did not venture to ask any explanations. If Marcia preferred to exclude her from her confidence, she resolved not to intrude.
Instead, she began to talk of her evening with the Doanes and although well aware Marcia scarcely listened, her gossip bridged the gulf of silence and gave the elder woman opportunity to recover her poise.
By noon Marcia was, to outward appearances, entirely herself. She had not been able, to be sure, to banish her pallor or the traces of sleeplessness ”

“ The only thing that now remains to clear my sky is for me to right myself with Marcia."
"That will be easy," smiled Sylvia.
"I wish I thought so," was Heath's moody answer.
"Marcia is no ordinary woman. Her understanding and love are measureless. Love, Mr. Heath, forgives a great deal."
"I know it does. In that lies my only hope."
She was not in the house when at last Stanley Heath overtook her, but far up the beach tossing driftwood into the surf for Prince Hal to retrieve. ”

“ If she had followed her usual custom and been open with Jason's sister, the dilemma in which she now found herself would never have arisen. Granted that her motive had been a worthy one had it not been audacious to make of herself a god and withhold from Margaret Hayden facts she had had every right to know, facts that belonged to her? Such burdens were given human beings to bear, not to escape from. ”

“ Through the kitchen window pale shafts of light [92] shot across the floor, brightening the colored rugs and making brass and copper glisten. Starting the fire, she threw open the door to let in the salt breeze.
The dampness and chill of the night had disappeared and the air was mild with the breath of coming spring. Mingling with the gulls' cries she could hear the twitter of sparrows and the occasional chirp of a robin. The village, still hazy in mist, was taking on sharper outlines and from the bay the voices of fishermen and the chug of a motor-boat drifted distinctly across the water. ”

“ You cannot take the gems back with you to New York. A calamity has befallen them."
"A calamity, sir?"
The small, grey-haired man looked from Stanley Heath to Marcia, and for the first time, his imperturbable countenance betrayed mingled amazement and distress. Presently, however, he had it under control and as if he had donned a mask, it became as expressionless as the sphinx while he waited for the rest of the story.
"Mrs. Howe helped me conceal the jewels downstairs in a hiding-place under the kitchen floor," continued Stanley Heath. "When she went to get them, they were gone." ”

“ Traveling isn't really so bad after all."
Then as Marcia watched, she saw the lithe young creature stoop suddenly and kiss the withered cheek.
The next instant she was swinging up the platform.
The slim figure in its well-tailored blue suit; the trimly shod feet; the small hat so provokingly tilted [36] over the bright eyes, the wealth of golden curls that escaped from beneath it all shattered Marcia's calculations. She had thought of Sylvia Hayden as farm-bred—the product of an inland, country town—a creature starved for breadth of outlook and social opportunity. ”

“ Marcia, with whitened lips but with face grave and determined, remained with her back to the stairway door, her arms stretched across its broad panels, her eyes never leaving Elisha Winslow's. There was something in her face Sylvia had never seen there—a light of battle; a fierceness as of a mother fighting for her child ”

“ Therefore, a very different Marcia Howe responded to Stanley Heath's summons.
She was now all gentleness, friendliness, and shyly penitent. If her former coquetry had been bewitching, this new artless self of hers was a hundredfold more alluring.
Stanley, again master of himself, welcomed her with amazement. Could man ever fathom a woman's moods, he asked himself? Why this chastened and distractingly adorable Marcia? ”

“ Sylvia drew a long breath.
"There! Now we'll not be serious a minute longer. This is the greatest day of our four lives. There must not be even a shadow in our heaven. Kiss me, Marcia, and come and meet Hortie. Poor dear! He is paralyzed with fright at the thought of appearing into your presence. ”

“ As the door closed behind the elder woman, artful young Sylvia smiled.
"There! That will keep her busy for a few moments at least. I know those pillow-cases. They fit like a snake's skin and are terribly hard to get off and on."
She crept into the hall and listened.
Yes, Marcia and Stanley Heath were talking. She could hear her aunt's gentle insistence and the man's protests. That was all she wished to know. The pillow-cases were in process of being taken off.
Up the stairs flew Sylvia, to return a second later, the jewel-case swathed in its loose wrappings. ”

“ I'd have lied—stooped to any means to prevent him from unearthing the evidence he was after."
"But the law, Sylvia—the law."
"I wouldn't give a rap for the law. You love Stanley Heath. That's enough for me. Besides, he is being tracked down—trapped. I want him to go free."
"You think he took the jewels?" asked Marcia, slowly.
"Certainly I do. Don't you?"
"No."
"But, Marcia, can't you see how plain it all is? I know it is terrible for you, dear. It almost breaks my heart. It is an awful thing to believe of anybody—harder still of a person one loves. Nevertheless, we must face the facts. ”

“ So Marcia thought—"
"Of course she did. We both did. So did Elisha Winslow and Eleazer Crocker. So did lots of other people in Wilton."
"Heavens!"
"Well, how were we to know?" Sylvia demanded.
"How, indeed? If an innocent citizen cannot visit a town without being arrested as a criminal within a week of his arrival, why shouldn't he be married without his knowledge? Circumstantial evidence can, apparently, work wonders."
Then suddenly he threw back his head and laughed.
"Bless you, little Sylvia—bless you for setting me right. I told you you were a brick and you've proved it. ”

“ The nose of the setter quivered and, going to the window, he growled.
"He does hear something," asserted Sylvia. "What do you suppose it is?"
"Gulls, most likely. They circle above the house in clouds," was Marcia's careless answer. "The Prince regards them as his natural enemies. He delights to chase them up the beach and send them whirling into the air. ”

“ If there lingered deep within her heart vague, unsatisfied yearnings, Marcia resolutely held over these filmy imaginings a tight rein. To be busy—that [22] was her gospel. She never allowed herself to remain idle for any great length of time. To prescribe the remedy and faithfully apply it was no hardship to one whose active physique and abounding vigor demanded an abundance of exercise. Like an athlete set to run a race, she gloried in her physical strength. ”

“ That was what usually happened in moving-pictures, somebody always shot somebody else.
[88]
She wouldn't want Hortie to be shot. The thought of it sobered her. After all, Hortie was a dear, she liked him—liked him very much. On the other hand, she would not want Stanley Heath shot either.
Perhaps it would be just as well to leave out all this shooting, why heap horror upon horror? To be married to a bandit was adventure enough without being the wife of a murderer.
Sylvia's imagination had traveled so swiftly and so far that it came to earth with a crash when Marcia opened the door. ”

“ Nevertheless, I do not believe Stanley Heath is guilty," was the proud retort.
"That is because you don't want to—because you won't."
"Leave it at that, then, and say I won't," cried Marcia, leaping defiantly to her feet.
"You are making a great mistake, if you will pardon me for saying so," Sylvia responded gently. "You are deliberately closing your eyes and mind to facts that later are bound to cause you bitter unhappiness. Let alone the man's guilt. He has a [220] wife. You seem to forget that. As Elisha Winslow remarked, you have already been miserable once. ”

“ She could not go to that length."
"Are you sure she understood?" asked Sylvia, stepping nearer and looking fearlessly into his eyes. "There is a shame Marcia never in this world would face for any man; but it is not the shame you have just described.
"It is the shame of wronging another woman; destroying a home. ”