The Woman Who Vowed Part 15

"No!" she exclaimed, almost with temper, "and I did not mean you to see it."

I apologized to her and suggested that she should join me in my walk; but she did not answer me at once; she moved about the studio as though agitated by my discovery, moving things aimlessly, taking things up and putting them down again. I stood at the window waiting for an answer, for I did not wish to leave her in this disturbed condition. At last she looked me full in the face and her mobile lips twitched with ill-suppressed emotion. Had she known how little I suspected the cause of her trouble she need not have been so moved; but she had been so long fighting against her love for Ariston that she imagined the discovery by me of the portrait had betrayed her secret.

"You won't tell any one you have seen it, will you?" she said at last appealingly.

"Certainly not," answered I. "But why are you so anxious to keep it a secret?"

She opened her eyes at this question and then burst out, with a sob in her voice:

"I would not have them guess it for the world."

At last I understood: this bust was not a portrait of Ariston; it was a study for her Conquering Man, and she could not keep out of it the features of the one she loved.

"See," she said, pointing to the corner where the uncompleted busts were hidden, "they all look like him; even when I tried to model a face without a beard, expressly to escape this haunting thought, you can see it--somewhere in the brow," and she moved her hand over the brow. "At every attempt I make, something betrays me," and she sat down on a low chair and buried her face in her hands.

I stood by her, not daring to intrude; and presently she got up sadly and said:

"Yes, I shall go with you--anything to get away from it all"; and taking her cap from a peg, closed the window, locked the door, and joined me.

"I had half an idea," said I, as we moved toward the wood, "that you had a fancy for Cleon."

Anna smiled. "Cleon is a sweet boy and I am very fond of him; I suppose he thinks he is in love with me; but we are accustomed to these 'green and salad' loves; indeed, we are taught not to discourage them. It is good for a boy like Cleon to be in love with some one much older than himself that he can never marry; it keeps him out of mischief and does no one harm. One day he will reproach me and tell me I have encouraged him; I have not, you know, not the slightest; but he will say I have, and honestly think it for a few days; a little later he will get over it and be a good friend of mine to the end of my days."

We had a walk in the wood that has remained in my memory as one of the sweetest hours I spent at Tyringham. She soon accustomed herself to my knowledge of her secret, and this created an intimacy between us that was rare and pleasant.

At that early hour the woods were dark and fresh, and the light upon a meadow we were approaching reminded me of a forgotten poet:

"I knew the flowers; I knew the leaves; I knew The tearful glimmer of the languid dawn On those long rank dark wood walks drenched with dew Leading from lawn to lawn."

I quoted them to her and she responded to them; wanted to know the poet's name and more of his work; and as the autumn mist lay heavy on the lower pastures and the heavy fragrance of the autumn woods filled the air, I repeated to her those other lines of his:

"The woods decay; the woods decay and fall, The vapors weep their burthen to the ground; Man comes and tills the earth and lies beneath, And after many a summer dies the swan.

Me only, cruel immortality consumes Here at the Eastern limit of the day----"

She put a hand on my arm and stopped me:

"What is that again, 'Me only, cruel----'"

I repeated the line to her.

"What a subject," she said; "not for a t.i.thonus--no; what a thought to work into my group!"

I saw her meaning: Man might subdue Nature to his use; what then? Was he to be nevertheless forever consumed by immortality? Here was the limit to his triumph; its shadow and reverse.

"What is the meaning of it all!" she said. "We are unhappy, do what we may, and it is out of our very unhappiness that we find something that replaces happiness--a sort of divine sorrow."

We had by this time traversed the wood and stood on a height which commanded the now deserted colony buildings. The sun was well up on the horizon; the birds hopping silently in the boughs, their spring and summer songs over; but the torrent filled the air with its noisy music as it dashed down the hillside, and beyond we saw it meandering in peaceful curves among the meadows.

"It is very beautiful," she said. "After all, there is joy enough in beauty, and it is no small thing"--she was looking absently over the meadows as she repeated--"it is no small thing that we can by art add to it."

"It is a mission of which you can well be proud," said I.

She looked at me and smiled gratefully.

As we returned I felt that she had shaken off some of the sorrow with which she had started.

CHAPTER XVII

DESIGNS ON ANNA OF ANN

My stay at the Pater's farm was altogether delightful, for most of the day was spent in shooting. October was the only month open to all; but one permit was given to every ten inhabitants during November, and as there were forty-four, including the Pater's family, on the farm, it was easy to spare one to me. The Pater's younger son Phaines had another; he was not only a keen sportsman but an agreeable companion, and we killed much game, great and small. During a period of twenty years the shooting of bear had been prohibited, and now, with the extension of forests, bear had increased so as to be extremely plentiful. Deer, elk, caribou, moose, wild boar, and such destructive animals as lynxes, foxes, and wild cats, furnished all that a sportsman could ask in the way of variety. As the amount of game we killed far exceeded the consuming power of the neighborhood we daily telephoned to the County Supply Department for instructions where to s.h.i.+p it, and we received our pay therefor.

During the winter, country people took their princ.i.p.al meal in the evening, the morning and midday hours being the pleasantest for being in the open air. The farm hands and we sportsmen took our luncheon with us and came home prepared for a large meal. Those who prepared the meal preferred to spend the dark hours from four to seven in the preparation of it, and to be free during the earlier part of the day.

The evening pa.s.sed pleasantly. Every large farmhouse--and there were few small ones, except such as were, so to speak, dependent upon the large--had a room with a stage, specially applied to music and theatrical performances; it could also be used for such indoor games as squash or badminton. In this room those who wanted to practice music, etc., would a.s.semble, and here they would occasionally give performances. When these farms sent their inmates to the city for a few months in the winter, hospitality was gladly extended them for the variety of performances which they could furnish; and by this exchange of population, the city people going to the country to harvest in the summer, and the farmers going to the city for amus.e.m.e.nt and instruction during the winter, monotony of life was eliminated.

One day when I was returning from a day's sport with Phaines, a buck packed on each of our horses, we were talking of marriage, and I asked him whether he did not intend to marry.

"I want to marry very much," said he.

I looked at him inquiringly.

"I have asked Anna of Ann a dozen times to marry me and she won't,"

continued he. "I can't see why she won't, either; she doesn't seem to care for anyone else; she might as well marry me, and then she could give all her time to that art of hers she is so devoted to."

"But she would have to work some part of the day at the farm, wouldn't she?"

"No; we are quite well enough off to let her give all her time to her art if she wanted to. It's this way: we have to furnish so much b.u.t.ter, or its equivalent in eggs, poultry, stock, etc., to the state for the amount of land we cultivate; then we have to support our farm hands, that is to say, either we have to give to each wages out of the surplus produce of the farm, over and above what we pay the state as rent, or we have to furnish the state extra produce for every farm hand we have.

Well, our hands prefer the former of these plans. The amount we give each farm hand depends on the amount of the surplus; every one of us is interested in making this surplus as large as possible. In this way we really have a great deal more than we can spend, and I could easily afford, out of my share of the surplus, to support Anna, so that she need not work at all."

"You are very prosperous then?"

"Yes, and why shouldn't we be? Now that we get grain at what it really costs instead of paying middlemen and speculators, railroad stockholders, elevators, etc., etc., everything is half the price it used to be. Then we need never fear that no one will buy our produce.

The Supply Department can always tell us just where what we have is needed, and pays us for it on the spot. It does the transportation; and so the state needn't ask us an exorbitant rent, and can always pay us a remunerative price for our surplus."

"But you don't suppose Anna of Ann would be induced to marry you just because you could support her, do you?"

"She's a fool if she doesn't, as she apparently does not care for any one else."

That night after dinner most of the party adjourned to the music room, so I took a chair near the Mater who was knitting by the big fire in the hall.

A benign smile lightened up her dear old round face as she made room for me to get close to the fire. I was curious to know what she thought of Anna, and said to her: