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Hppletons'

XTown ant) Country

Xibrarp

No. 194

THE MADONNA OF A DAY

THE MADONNA
OF A DAY

L. DOUGALL

Cti.»UjL_

AUTHOR OF THE MERMAID, THE ZEIT-OEIST, BEGGARS ALL, ETC.

"A water pure and saltless
Has neither taste nor hue ;
A beauty that is faultless

Is characterless too.
Blest are the discontented ! "

NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

1895

L
T7 •'

v) • •-'

CoPTRionT, 1895,

Bt d. appleton and company.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

CHAPTER I.

The station of tlie Canadian Pacific Railway in
the town of Vancouver is a rather handsome build-
ing. At its entrance, on a certain afternoon in late
December, an omnibus from the principal hotel ar-
rived with quite a crowd of people. Its occupants
were nearly all men — young men ; they were sitting
upon one another's knees^ and standing in the middle,
for they filled it to overflowing. They were all
laughing hilariously, and the person who was making
them laugh was the younger of the only two women
in the omnibus.

When the horses stopped, the men — some younger,
some older — alighted without any abatement of their
jovial state. Then they handed out the two women,
and all the rugs and bags and umbrellas which be-
longed to them. It seemed that the women only
were the travellers, for the men had no luggage.

The sky overhead was a dull soft grey; in the

110727

2 TI'E MADONNA OF A DAY.

street a layer of snow lay upon everything, but it was
not deep, and the air was soft ratlier than cold. The
two women stood together upon the pavement in
front of the entrance. The older was tall, and very
plainly dressed. She was clever, she was sad, she
was not given to interfering with others — all this was
written on her face ; she had reached that maturity
in which character and expression are fixed. The |
younger woman was a plump blithe creature ; she I
would have been perfectly fresh and delightful if it |

had not been for a certain subtle spirit of unrest that '^i

. . 'I

peeped out, as it were, from behind her bright black |

eyes and from the corners of her red lips with hard- |
ening effect. She was young; as yet nothing was I
imprinted very clearly upon her face. She was |
dressed more richly than the other, but with sturdy |
good sense. She was as alert and alive to what was
going on around her as a chicken when its wings are
all fluffy with excitement. She looked upon herself
as a person of great importance, and took a vivid in-
terest in every one about her.

For the moment there happened to be no porter
to unlade the trunks from the top of the omnibus.

"Now," cried the young woman, "I'll bet a
dollar to each, that you men, with all your miracu-
lous vows of everlasting friendship, won't haul down
the boxes and carry them in on your backs." She
raised her voice to a delighted scream. " On your

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

it it was
d. The
neiit ill
,nd very
sad, she
this was
naturity
1. The
re ; she
ful if it
rest that
lit black
th Hard-
ing was
Jhe was

sturdy
hat was
ngs are

herself
ivid in-

porter
bus.

bet a
niracu-
1 down
" She
n your

*acl's, my dear boys; I shan't lose my dollars on
'alse pretences."

She escaped vulgarity. There was just enough of
what was well bred in accent and aspect to make her
loudness an interesting eccentricity rather than a
loathsome commonplace.

She gave way to immoderate and delighted laugh-
ter as the group of men charged upon the omnibus,
and with unaccustomed awkwardness hauled and
pulled at the boxes strapped upon it. " We shall be
too late," said the older woman to the younger, speak-
ing in a dry dissatisfied way.

"All right, my pet," was the answer; "Til pay
your hotel bill for the extra day." Then in exclama-
tion, " Hang me if those fellows don't knock off one
or two of their heads! Oh, what heavenly fun it
would be to have to take one or two of them back to
the hotel in an ambulance, and have to stop and nurse
them ! "

" Speak for yourself," said the other one, with an
air aloof and placid.

By this time such servants of the station as should
have done the work were standing aside, grinning
widely. The men who had taken down the boxes
were wrestling, each to obtain a box or a part of a
box on his own shoulders. The fact that it was in
some cases difficult for two men to get under one box
made some moments' delay.

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

The plump girl clapped her Lands, and gave a
little dance of hilarity.

" Run, my dear fellows, run ! or we shall lose
the train as sure as death." She g> ve little shrieks
of delighted laughter between her sentences. " And
there's that infernal checking business to be gone
through."

The men in rollicking procession ran into the
station, the girl beside them breathless with glib
comments, small bits of mild profanity, and tlic
very freshest gayest laughter imaginable. Her com-
panion followed, swift and sedate.

The train, about to start, shut in the long plat-
form at one side. Its engine and carriages looked
very large to eyes unaccustomed to American travel.

" Have mercy on us ! " cried the girl. " What a
huge way of spinning across the continent ! "

The trunks having been checked, were carried on
the backs of the hilarious cavaliers to the luggago
car. Every one upon the platform or at the win-
dows of the train was interested in the performance.
The lively little lady who had instigated it stood at
the steps of the drawing-room car into which she
was about to enter, and clapped her hands, laughed
and swore that it was the most amusing sight which
she had ever witnessed. It was a piece of rather
strong language she used this time; it came out
evidently just to shock and interest two of the

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

iicn of lier party who had by this time gained her

iide.

The ladies were helped to ascend into the car, all
I their friends accompanying them through its first
narrow passage-way into its main portion. Most of
the men were still boisterous; one or two had as-
jsumed a pensive expression by this time. This ex-
pression was the most pronounced in the case of a
slight fellow with a light moustache, who was called
by the ladies, " Charlie."

The girl patted Charlie upon the back.

"Cheer up, dear old boy," she cried. "It's
enormoutjly pretty to see you so down in the mouth,
you know, but it's no go. Let us meet, part,
and be merry, for to-morrow we die! — that, I think,
comes out of the Yedas or some other ancient lit-
I erature."

She was the central figure of the group ; the
older woman counted for very little, for though both
in feature and figure she was much the handsomer,
she was not happy, and the younger was radiantly
happy. Happiness by its infection always attracts.
Moreover, the younger was rich ; her purse was full,
a large diamond sparkled on her hand.

She had already taken out her Durse with a
demonstration of business. " I hope i have enough
of these vile bits of green paper to pay you in single
dollars," she cried.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

The first man to whom she presented a bank-note
put his hands behind his back. Her whole being was
swiftly transformed into a very personification of
petty indignation.

" What is this ? What does it mean ? Is it an
insult?" Then she demanded of the others with
flashing eyes, " What does he mean ? Does he take
me for a * young lady ' ? Does he imagine that,
when I lose a bet, I would fail to hand over the coin
like any other man f "

Iler impetuousness was such that each man re-
ceived his dollar. One of them, as spokesman for
the rest, began to protest that they would each pur-
chase a charm for their watch-chains, but she scorn-
fully told him not to be a " blethering idiot."

She was evidently a new variety of woman to
most of these men. Hasty as the leavetaking was,
they watched her up to the last moment with eyes
greedy to drink in every one of her unexpected
glances and words.

" Poor Charlie ! " she cried, " but he's my cousin,
you know, and kin is kin all the world over. Come
now, you must all go out, and I'll give him a cousinly
kiss behind the door."

The small company of men left the train after it

* began to move ; they jumped from it with the same

boisterous hilarity, with the exception of Charlie,

who, after having been patronizingly kissed, reached

m
m

THE MADONNA OF A DAY. 7

the platform looking much depressed. The lively

prl, who had driven them along the small corridor

,s if they had been a flock of sheep, stood upon the

[rear platform of the car waving her hands and

[shouting and laughing as long as communication was

possible.

•€

CHAPTER 11.

The evening descended upon the train as it
passed tlirough plain and canyon on its way eastward,
towards the great mountains. The land, the rocks,
the broad placid surface of the valleys, were white
with snow ; only the tremulous lakes were grey ; tLe
tumultuous rivers still ran with dark grey stream, and
the firs made dark the hillsides which they clothed.
Night fell ; snow blew against the windows of the
cars; inside the palace sleeping-car the gorgeous
lamps, inlaid woodwork, mirrors and bright curtains,
were cheerful enough.

At one end of this car the two young women wlio
had entered it at Vancouver were in talk with a fel-
low-traveller. The man was a missionary, but being
a real person and not a play-actor, there was nothing
very typical about him, nothing in his dress and man-
ner that on the stage would have been recognized as
denoting the species "missionary." He was a tall
man, grey-haired, with a handsome clear-cut face ; lie
looked as if he had his fair share of common-sense ;

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

lin as it
eastward,
he rocks,
3re white
^rey; the
^eam, and
r clothed.
^rs of the

unen who
ith a fel-
but being
8 nothing
and man-
)gnized as
vas a tall
face ; he
ion-sense ;

lis dress was not more remarkable than is usually the
iase when travellers return to Western civilization
ifter a long sojourn in the East.

The missionary bent forward, his hands upon his
:nees, a good-natured look of penetrating shrewdness
ipon his face. " Now I know," he said, " what you
^oung ladies are doing. You have said to one an-
)ther, ' There is an old fogey of a missionary ; we
^ill make up all sorts of stories, and amuse ourselves
v)y shocking him.' "

The elder leaned back in her corner with a languid
smile. " We are extremely sorry if you are shocked,"
ihe said ; " it is the last thing that we desired." She
looked out of the window at the darkness flecked
'ith white.

The other made her disclaimer in the freshest,

lost good-natured fashion in the world. " You are

jntirely mistaken ; we were saying that we thought

that you were a rather jolly fellow, and we think so

^et. We haven't told you anything but what was

[perfectly Biblical in the way of truth — or rather,

luch more truthful than what is Biblical, because we

^ere dealing with facts ; we've been ' speaking the

Itrnth in love,' I do assure you. We are women

[journalists. We are going round the world. You

ire very much behind the times if you think English

^irls over twenty-one need any one to take care of

them. Why, you know, we have been in all sorts of

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

out-of-tlie way places. Of course it was often danger-
ous, but that made something to write to the papers
about. I bought an enormously precious stone in the
East. I carry it with me. 1 expect to be murdered
for it before I get home — that will be the denoue-
mentP Her eyes sparkled with vivacity.

" And in London," said the missionary, " I gather
that you live in * chambers ' all alone, and go about at
night quite freely." There was a genial interest in
his tone.

" Oh dear, yes ; why should I not ? The London
police are quite efficient. I couldn't be murdered or
anything. My friend here runs about Fleet Street
at two and three o'clock in the morning, getting off
telegrams to the provincial newspapers. I don't do
that just because I don't happen to be in that line of
work."

" Or rather, because you are too rich to need to
do iL" The elder woman made this dry comment.

" There is nothing that would amuse me more than
to do that sort of thing."

" Therein you show a more debased taste than I,
for I would not do it if it were not my daily bread."

"We used to think that our American women
were more independent than the English," said the
missionary. He continued to look at the young girl
much as one would look at a pretty and interesting
child.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

. danger-
e papers
le in the
lurdered
denoue-

I gather

about at

terest in

I London
dered or
3t Street
itting oil
don't do
it line of

need to
ment.
lore than

e than I,
Y bread."
I women
said the
3ung girl
iteresting

" Oh dear, no ; I consider yonr American women

uite behind the age. Why, now, for instance, just

esterday at Vancouver I gave a little dinner in the

lotel. Well, I had to do it in common honesty. I

lappened to have a cousin in Vancouver, and he had

wrought some of his friends to call. I had been there

I a week ; they had treated me ; I had, of course, to do
something in return ; but some Americans in the hotel
were quite shocked. The hotel people were wonder-
fully decent about the dinner, and let me have it un-
commonly cheap too. Waiters and hotel clerks are
always tremendously nice to me. I don't know why
it is, but I always find it that way. I showed the bill
to one of the men, a very nice fellow that I had got
Ito know quite well, and he said a man would never

Jhave got it so cheap."

I "AYhat did you have for dinner?" asked the mis-

sionary, " and what was the price ? "

j^ She was not talking for effect ; she was quite car-

|ried away with the interest of what she was relating.

It is usually the thing we like to talk about that we

can talk about best; she succeeded in absorbing his

attention.

" Well, I'll tell you. There were eight of us —

my friend here, my cousin Charlie, and five other

men. I talked to them tremendously at the hotel be-

orehand, so that they really gave us everything very

ood — that is to say, good for Yancouvor. We had

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

ten courses. Well, I didn't have champagne. Cham-
pagne is tremendously dear, you know, here, and not
very good ; but 1 had sherry and a very good Bur-
gundy. Of course I didn't get cigarettes from the
hotel ; I always carry my own. But now, what do
you think the bill, including the wine, came to ? "

" I have no idea," said the missionary, quite truly.

'* Only four pounds ! I was quite taken aback
when I saw it ; but of course I paid it, and didn't ask
any questions. I just smiled upon the clerk who took
the money ; but, as I say, I showed it to a friend after-
ward, and we chuckled over it together. I have often
noticed that they favour me at hotels. I always make
a point of talking in a friendly way to the clerks and
the waiters ; they like it, and it doesn't do me any
harm."

" I^ow that I think of it," the missionary spoke
meditatively, " I have seen your name in the papers.
I have read a description of you."

She brightened visibly ; an obvious thrill of pleas-
ure went through her frame. " Oh, I dare say ; I
write a good deal, you know, in various journals, and
several of my friends who do interviewing have
threatened to publish a sketch of me. What was the
name of the paper ? When one is flying round the
world one can't keep up to date with these things."

" I do not know that your friends have been so
personal as you suppose. I merely meant that even

-;7f

m^\

lit

9 is

Jan

Ith

^ri(

■br

Mio

mil

■to

■Ol

>aB

Iwc

■I (

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

[at a remote mission station I have read paragraphs
Iconcerning the ' New Woman.' "

She was disappointed, and she was still so jonng
and full of life that she had not the heart to coi^ceal
it, hut in a moment she took up the new theme with
all her former zest.

" And heing in a remote mission station, I suppose
you helicved the idiotic and transcendent ruhhish that
is written about her. Xow, I'll tell you what it is,
land you may believe me. I have been three years at
GiriOii, and I've lived in town for a year or two, and
Irve travelled round the world, and I can assure you
ithat the ' Xew Woman ' is a pure myth. She is a
jridiculoiis and horrid phantasm, evolved out of the
brains of a few authors who did not know what else
to interest the public with, and believed in only by the
simple and credulous, who unfortunately, however, go
to make up the greater portion of every community.
Oh, she's been a great scare, I admit, but there's ab-
solutely nothing in it."

"I beg your pardon," said the missionary. "I
[thoudit that I had classified vou."

" Well, as you've come from the Pacific Ocean I
Iwon't be offended. I am not thin-skinned any way ;
[I can always get on with a man who says what he
ithinks. I adore plain downright dealing."

" What are the mythical attributes ? " he asked.

" The characteristics of the myth ? Well, in the
2

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

first place, she has no prinel})lc. Now why, iii tho
name of heaven, I ask you, should vonian at the end
of the nineteenth century be supposed to have less
principle than she had in all the other centuries?
She may live in a different way ; she may be happy
and live in a fiat, and have a latchkey, instead of sit-
ting snarling over the fire at her brother's wife who
doesn't waui: her. She may earn her own living in-
stead of insisting that some man should pay her bills.
She may make good, downright honest friendships
with men instead of merely flirting with them in a
ballroom ; and if she doesn't believe in religion she
can stay at home from church instead of continuing
to keep up a respectable sham. Do these things
necessarily take away her principle ? I tell you, the
men and women that go about saying that a woman
does not believe in anything because she does not be-
lieve in shamming, prove themselves to be far more
unprincipled than the modern women I have met."

She was very young; she had her enthusiasms,
and this was evidently one of them. She looked at
the missionary with bright red cheeks, but she was
not abusing him ; she was rather appealing to him.

" All that may be quite true," said the missionary
— " you have, as you say, a very fair right to judge ;
but why do you proclaim your opinion to me in the
name of heaven ? Why heaven ? "

" Did I say in the name of heaven ? " She

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

ill tile
tlie end
ave less
ituries ?
3 happy
d of sit-
ife who
virig iii-
ler bills,
iiidships
jm in a
i^ion she |
[itinuing
J things
you, the I
L woman
3 not be-
Far more
met."
lusiasms,
ooked at
she was
) him.
issionary
judge ;
ae in the

I )>

She

langhe;]. " Well, then in the name of the sky — it is
[all one to nie — in the name of the blue distance, in
the name of the ether, why ohould I be supposed to
be unprincipled because I drink plenty of wine and
smoke cigarettes? If you saw a man taking wine
and smoking just as I do, would you argue that he
would tell lies, and break vows, and be indifferent as
to his personal dignity and moral worth ? I suppose
that if you are a rabid teetotaler and an anti-tobacco-
nist you do argue that way, but the facts would not
[bear you out."

" I am not a tobacconist of any sort," said the
Imissionarv, smilin<j.

She laughed the blithest happiest laugh.

"Another characteristic of the myth," she said,
I" is that she has no heart ; she does not care for the
young or the aged. Xow, do you suppose that evolu-
tion has suddenly come to a standstill, and that a new
thing has been created ? Heretofore women have
always been known to be tender-hearted ; men are
supposed to have a soft corner in their hearts also :
but now there is suddenly a break in all the laws of-
heredity, and a race of girls has sprung up that pos-
sesses none of the softer sentiments. Because they
live in flats and have latchkeys, or do something else
typical, wdiatever it may be, they are supposed to
kick aside anything that is w^eak or ailing without
the slightest compunction. What I want to know is,

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Ill

ll!

wlicre this race of women lias come from. It is a
very bad conii)limeiit to tl)0 very mothers who are
weeping over the revolt of their daughters to sup-
pose that their children have got made up in soniu 'j
way without any heart."

The missionary with strong sagacious face was
still observing her benignly.

" I see " — he joined the points of his fingers to-
gether as'he spoke — "you are not unprincipled, and
you are not unfeeling."

"You have only my word for it," she laughed.

" I am old enough," said the missionary, " to know
whom to believe. I believe you. I regret that in 1
using the term I apj^lied to you I should have ap- 1
peared to make an accusation "

" Oh ! not at all ; don't apologize. I always gird
up my loins and experience a holy joy when I hear
the ^ New Woman ' mentioned, for I love to defend
my sex."

lie made a courteous inclination of the head.

" What sort of joy ? "

" Holy joy," she repeated boisterously.

" Your good principle and your good feeling we
have admitted" — he was speaking in a pleasant argu-
mentative way — " but why characterize your senti-
ments as holy ? "

"Well, I tliink I had been using a Bible quota-
tion" — she laughed — "and of course in your esti-

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Illation ftiiytliiiig wliatevcr connected with tlic Bible
makes tlie word appropriate."

'• Xot in tlie least," lie replied with unruffled
courtesy ; '' for exain])le, a man who takes his oath
upon the Bi])le and perjures himself does not do a
holy thing."

She laughed immensely at the retort, and liked
him better for it.

She ])rotested, " If you admit that I am affection-
ate and good-principled, I don't mind in the least
what else you accuse me of. But now I want to get
clearly into your mind the point that I make ; I al-
ways instruct everybody on the subject. One hears
.about this 'new woman,' and the 'girl of the period,'
[and the ''fn de siecle -svoman ; ' now I wish you to
I bear witness that I think I am as fair a specimen of
[the class abused as you can have. I am 'emanci-
pated,' I am 'advanced,' in fact I am the 'new
w'oman,' so far as she is not a myth. Of course
there is no class of people, either men or women, that
has not its black sheep, and its saints, too, for that
matter. I don't claim to be either one or the other;*
[I am simply an average specimen of the class of
women that are often called 'fast.' Well, now, I
maintain that I am just as sound in heart and morals
as if I spent my life moping by a sitting-room fire. I
can prove it to you, too."

She finished with a little nod of her head, and

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

III!

11:^:

paused a moinont. Tlicro was a certain self-conscious
twitching about tlie muscles of her youthful moutli
which suggested that something interesting concern-
infj herself was to be revealed. He continued to
listen with the same benign look of keen observation.
" I don't mind telling you — in fact Fvo told peo-
ple before ; I don't see why I should mind. Several
years ago I fell very much in love myself. A very
nice fellow used to come and see me sometimes ; we
neither of us intended it, and before we either of us
knew what was up, we were both in love. It wasn't |
our fault, but there we were, you see. It was Nature
that made the world, not we, and, as I understand it,
you believe that the Almighty is at the back of Na-
ture. Of course I don't know anything about that ;
Kature is enough for me : but, as I say, it wasn't our |
fault. Well, he was engaged to another girl before
he ever saw me. What did we do ? Did we act in
an unprincipled manner? AYe agreed that she was
weak and poor, and needed protection, and that ho 1
would be a rascal if he did not i^o on with the mar- 1
riage. Well, now, I live in the same place as that |
man ; I know quite well that his marriage to her has
not altered the fact that he preferred me; but I never
have any dealings with him except through his wife.
I would not do such a sliabby thing, and at the same
time pretend to be a friend to her ; but I know lots
of women who would do it who look upon me as

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

(Miite an outcast from society. Now, I have an iin-
mense amount of affection lor that man. I'd give all
tliat I possess at any time to help him out of a difti-
culty; hut I should not care for him at all — I should
ahsuhitely despise him, if he came philandering after
nic when his poor little affectionate wife is slaving all
(lay over his dinner and his bahies."

It is often ditKcult to estimate the pitch of one's
own voice in the rattle of a train. She was per-
hiips not to be blamed if, in the interest of her
theme, her voice was a little louder than was neces-
sary ; but the missionary looked round apprehen-
sively to see if any of their fellow-travellers could
have overheard.

" Now," she cried, " what do you thhik of tha« ?
Can you say that my conduct in the matter has not
been perfectly ' womanly ' ? "

" You certainly acted on principle " Instead

of finishing, he obviously hesitated, then added, " Al-
though you adore candour — I think that is all that
I had better say."

"What else have you to say?" she asked with
great curiosity.

He looked down at the points of his fingers,
which, elbows on his knees, he was still carefully
matching together.

" My idea of what is perfectly womanly is perhaps
derived from a character who did not discuss the

Ill

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

!l:i:'

deep tilings of lier life, but pondered tLem in her
lieart." Then he looked up. " I am preaching tu
you, you sec. I hope you will excuse my sermon."

" Oh, certainly " — with good nature. " I never
go to hear sermons, so I should be thankful when
they are given me without that effort."

" I thought perha2)s your feelings would be hurt,"
lie said.

She was quick enough to see that look and tone
were meant to suggest that had she appreciated his
meaning she would have felt oifence. She hid this
under an air of amused good nature.

" I have a holy horror of touchiness," she per-
sisted.

lie rose to say good night.

" An old man who has conceived a hearty respect
for you would feel it an honour to shake hands," he
said.

" Honest Injun ? or is it sarcasm ? "

In a moment his benign aspect answered for Itself.
She entered into the hand-shaking heartily.

" And yet," he said, " I think you had better not
use the word ' holy ' to describe your own emotions."

" Oh, really ! upon my word ! Why not ? "

" It betrays a lack of literary perception. It is
neither amusing nor appropriate."

in her
bing to
aon."
[ never
il when

Q Imrt;'

lid tone
ited Lis
hid this

she per-

T respect
nds," he

itself.

or I

3tter not
lotions."

n. It is

CHAPTER III.

" I don't see why you should trouble yourself to
[chatter to people who despise you, Polly," said the
I discontented journalist.

" Because I don't affect, like you, to be Shelley's
[Moon, and find no object in heaven or earth worthy
my attention. Pessimism and despair may suit your
[style of beauty ; it would look idiotic upon me."

" It is such a ghastly season of the year to be trav-
I oiling. I think the Christmas holiday is the most
I odious of seasons in all parts of the world."

" I would rather spend Christmas Day in ten rail-
way trains than at home, where one is expected to go
to church, and visit the poor, and be bored."

"If it continues to snow in the mountains we
may have to spend J^ew Year's Day as well in this
train, before we get to Montreal."

The other looked out of the window.

" It would be beastly cold to be turned out upon
the snow somewhere among the Eockies," she said.
"If it came to that it would remind me of a time

ill. '. >

■lii^ii

I'^i

" i!

ill ^1
i!

il!'

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

once when I was about fourteen and walked out of
the house in winter in my sleep. How my father
did row me about it the next day, to be sure ! The
old fellow seemed to think that I was responsible for
my actions."

" How far did you go ? " — with languid interest.

" Oh ! not farther than halfw^ay down our gar-
den, happily. But I used frequently to find myself
wandering about the passages, I was quite a crack
somnambulist."

" I did not know that you had ever done any-
thing so interesting. Have you outgrown the
talent ? "

" Rather ! " — here a sudden thrilling laugh of
great amusement — " or I should not have travelled
round the world so easily. Hang it ! what mag-
nificent messes one could get one's self into that
way."

They began now the process of what might be
called undressing for the night, but what was in
reality exchanging one set of outside wraps for
another. When they had turned out of their own
compartment to allow the beds to be made, the sad-
eyed woman began unrolling a grey dressing-jacket.
Little Miss Polly produced a bundle of blue silk,
and began displaying it with a pride and satisfaction
which rode roughshod over the other's indifference.
She was a very natural girl, chubby, dimpled, and

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

out of I
father
s! The
dble for

terest.
)ur gar-
l myself
a crack

>ne any-
wn the

augh of
travelled
lat mag-
nto that

night be i

was in
raps for
leir own
, the sad-
ig- jacket.
3lue silk,
tisfaction
ifference.
pled, and

fund of dress. Her name happened to be Mary
'loward.

" Look liere, this is that lovely thing I bought
In Persia. I have dedicated it to night travelling ;
t will keep the dust out of one's hair and clothes,
•ou know, without giving one a stuffy feeling. Isn't
It a magnificent blue 1 "'

" It is just yards and yards of stuff. There is
10 shape about it ; how do you keep it on ? "

" I am the shape ; this is the drapery. I learned
[rom the natives how to j)ut it on. This is the for-
lula : once over the head, twice round the neck, and
^hen the long end loosely over your head and shoul-
lers like a shawl. So ! "

" Picturesque ! " — critically — " but it's not in
character ; you look something like a coloured image
tn a church."

Mary Howard had a certain daintiness about her
wiiich was distinctly womanly. When she had
wrapped herself in the blue silk veil, she took off
lier boots and put on warm woollen slippers of the
?ame liue. This, of course, took place behind the
heavv curtains that shut her off from the rest of the
^ar. She stretched out her winsey skirts very straight
md smooth as she lay upon the couch ; then she
Idrew up the blanket, leaned back upon the pillows,
laiid went to sleep.

The train jolted on ; every one else in the car

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

i !:'

! I III I

liii"

went to sleep, too, even tlie commercial travellers
who sat up long in the smoking compartment so
that the black porter was very sleepy indeed before
lie could settle himself for the night. The black
porter sat on a stool in the little passage that led to
the ladies' dressing-room ; he leaned his head against
the wall and slept as soundly as in a bed, because he
was accustomed to it ; the jolting of the car was to |
him a lullaby.

The train went in and out of the snowsheds in
the Eagle Pass by which it was crossing the Gold
Eange. The sleeping travellers knew nothing of
sheds and mountains, lakes and rivers. Long after
midnight the train came to a place where the snow
was so deep on certain curves that they had to go
slowly. It was, perhaps, the slackening of speed
which disturbed one sleeper in the palace car.

Mary Howard sat up in her berth, and with
groping uncertain hands pushed down her blanket.
She separated her curtains, slipped out, and stood |
alone in the narrow passage between tlie long rows
of curtained berths. The eye of the shaded night-
lamp looked down upon a litt1<^ blue-draped figure
shod in noiseless wool. Sleep htid a softening effect
on a face that, at its happiest, when awake, was gay
rather than satisfied. She stood a moment at the
entrance of the Httle passage in which the porter
slept; she did not see him though her pretty eyes

THE MADONXA OF A DAY.

.vellers
lent so
before
} black
led to
against
ause lie
was to

lieds in
le Gold
liing of
ig after
le snow
d to go
f speed

id with
blanket,
id stood
)ng rows
d niglit-
d figure
mg effect
was gay
it at the
le porter
etty eyes

wore wide open, but no doubt sue perceived him
with the mysterious perception of the somnambulist,
for she avoided brushing his knee with her petticoat,
and he slept on.

At the end of the passage there were two doors,
one opening into the dressing-room and one on to the
rear platform of the car. A walled-in compartment
>hnt out the view of what was passing here from any
ione inside the car; no one heard the heavy handle of
the outer door turn, no one felt the breath of icy wind
that rushed in at the transient opening. The girl
stepped outside upon the platform, and shut the door
Ihehind her.

Ko doubt in her mind some dream was going for-
Iward ; perhaps it was a reminiscence of past somnam-
Ibnlistic adventures which she had that evening re-
called ; perhaps it was a vision of the " men friends"
of Vancouver, to whom, upon this very platform, she
liad bidden farewell. Whatever the motive in the
sleeping mind, she put her hand upon the rail, slowly
lescended the three steps of the carriage, and then
stepped off into the winter night.

Tlie train was going slowly ; the girl fell four or
five feet down a low embankment, and landed upon a
)ed of snow. This was her awakening ; and shocked,
terrified, unable to conceive what had befallen her, she
ay for a minute gazing at the expanse of the starry
leavcn, at the shadowy mountains, at the glimmering

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

i ill III

iiii
I 111

!!t!l

snow around her, at the receding lights of tlie rat-
tling train. It was the sight of these lights moving
in the distance that recalled her to reality. She
rose lip and shrieked ; she shrieked wildly, madly,
till the thunder of the train had died in the clear
cold air.

She sank back upon the snow, and covered her face
with her hands. Gradually it came to her mind what i
must have occurred. Her former sleep-walking experi- i
ences came to her aid ; something in the sensations she
was passing through recalled previcus sensations, and
gave the clue to what otherwise would have been in-
explicable. Her first feeling of mad, panic-stricken 1
anger against those on board the train passed away ; |
no one was to blame, and yet the fact remained — the
awful fact of her present situation.

Again she rose and looked about her ; there was
not in the snow-clad hills a single light to be seen.
She climbed up to the track. The snow lay under the
starlight unbroken, as far as she could see, except for
the two dark lines of rails. It was too dark to see
whither the curving road led in either direction. She
could only discern the tops of the mountains as they
showed against the starry sky, and the glimmering
snow for a few feet immediately around her. In this
small space she perceived that the side of the hill on
. which she had fallen rose abruptly, and that on the
other side the embankment sloped some fifty feet to a J

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

wide valley. In the valley she heard the sound of a
rushing river.

She was not more adventurous or heroic than is the
i average woman. She had travelled far, it was true,
hut the dangers which, in her own version of her ex-
ploits, she had always vigorously triumphed over, had
|heen chiefly imaginary ; she had sufficient good sense
to he inwardly conscious that it was so. Kow, realiz-
ing that, unprotected as she was from the cold and un-
:nown dangers, she might easily be out of reach of
my succour, she perceived that no affectation of cour-
ige would avail her, that no glorious account which
she might ever write of her own pro^vess would com-
)ensate for her present suffering.

"What danger she might be in from bears or wolves,
phe did not know ; the darkness became full of
jhadow^y shapes and unimaginable terrors ; but to re-
nain still, lightly clad, in the winter night was certain
leath. She could walk nowhere but upon the line,
[haven smooth by the engine's plough, for the snow
ly drifted a foot or eighteen inches deep upon the
lillside. At first she hurt her small feet badly again
md again, because she could not see the hard sleepers,
)ut gradually she learnt to measure her pace to their
listance, and then she got on better.

She often cast frightt 'ed glances behind, but in
[11 the darkness there wat nothing, neither sound, nor
lovement, nor shape — which increased her alarm.

*■.*

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

!!i!T:T

m.\t

'!!!

Hi'?'

"iiiiij ■
[Ml'
m

When she had had time to discover that in the
present solitude there was nothing to terrify, lier
fears began to centre about the settlement towards
which she supposed herself to be going. How could
she tell whether she would find friends or enemies in
any house which she ventured to disturb ? She re-
membered with relief that what money and valuables
she had brought on her journey were secreted in the
bosom of her dress. Some of her hardihood came
back with the knowledge that she was not without
that magic power which, so far, had always served
her in every emergency. In imagination she began
to conduct shrewd bargains with such settlers or
Indians as she might be fortunate enough to meet.
After that it occurred to her that wealth might prove
her worst foe ; how easy it would be in this region to
put her poor little body out of sight to gain posses-
sion of a considerable sum of money. Yet she did|
not throw away the money; she had too great anj
idea of her own power of finesse. She believed that]
in cleverness and knowledge of the w^orld she could i
outwit even evil-minded folk. By that strange lapse j
of attention so often seen in those who take precau-
tions, while thinking of her purse, she forgot the!
diamond ring upon her hand, the very diamond of
whose dangerous value she had boasted to the mis-j
sionary.

A vast sky of sparkling stars above, vast darkling]

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

slopes of snow-clad peaks around — nothing elhc was
there, but the black valley, the sound of the river,
darkness, solitude, and one small girlish figure walk-
ing fast upon the curving iron road ; it was very
wonderful — the girl herself had enough poetic feel-
in<r to realize how wonderful it was.

She realized her picturesqueness ; she did not
realize what an air of gentleness and helplessness
hung about her in contrast, as she now stood, to ele-
ments which she could not control. She had so lived
tluit she had conceived of herself as an imperious and
indoniitable person, admirable because she willed it,
not because of restraint. She hardly knew that she
only lived by the favour of others and was in the
depths of her own heart gentle and fearful.

She knew that here the trains only passed in each
I direction once a day. She knew that no train was
due now until the next eveninc:. Iler onlv chance
of life was to find some shelter. She walked a long
[way, and yet she saw no sign of house or footstep.
|The railroad had left the close proximity of the near-
est slope, and was now crossing the mouth of a notch
)r gully.

At length there was some unevenness in the snow
)n either side of the narrow embankment on which
pie was walking. She discovered that at this point a
pedge road crossed the line ; the road was not much
)eaten, it was true — the ruts of the runners and the

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

!.i

il IM

ihi\' ,

prints of tlic iiorse's feet were cut deep into the snow;
still, it was certain that here was a track to some
dwelling. It struck Iku* then to stoop down and feel
inside the prints of the horse's hoofs, to discover if
possible which way he had travelled. Her plump
white fingers ached in contact with the snow. She
tried a great many of the hoof-prints before she felt
sure ; but at length she satisfied herself that in fol-
lov/ing the track away from the river into a wide
notch in the hills, she would be going in the right
direction. In this notch there was the sound of a
mountain stream ; she saw no water in the darkness.

There was nothing for it now but to trudge on.
On and on she went for an hour or more. At length
she descried a glow in the distant darkness, that
seemed to proceed from some artificial light ; it did
not look like a light in a window, yet a fire of some j
sort it certainly was. She never took lier eyes off itj
as she walked ; curiositj" was holding the balance be-
tween hope and fear. The light flickered npon the I
black air, sometimes brighter, sometimes less bright.
A low black object became apparent, outlined against
it. AVhen she came nearer, she saw fences by thel
roadside, and then what looked like several low shedsj
lying at different angles to one another. Beyond!
that, there were only the slopes of the notch, whicli|
here had a wide level bottom.

CIIAPTEH IV.

When Mary drew near the lints, her hopes were
not raised by hearing iiproarions bnrsts of revelry
from the direction in which she saw the light of the
fire. It was the shout of many voices singing at
once, and laughing as they sang ; they were all men's
voices. The girl felt that now it would be necessary
to take her life in her hand and demand shelter from
the inhabitants, whoever they might be. She stood
just inside the fence ; a sudden feeling of faintness
roused her to the necessity of keeping up her cour-

tage.

She went up to the nearest building, but saw no
Isiij^n of lio-ht or movement within it. It was a dwell-
ing apparently, and she had hoped that if the men
Iwere at some wild merry-making outside, she might
ind some woman within. She knocked, but there
was no answer. She opened the door and ventured
in ; it was quite dark, and she was afraid to venture
Farther. The next shed that she came to was evi-
[lently a stabb ; she judged, from the sounds that she

, ill

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

heard, tliat there were both oxen and liorscs inside.
She ventured nearer to the third building, behind
which a company of men were evidently holding
some sort of festivah

She remembered now at what time of the year
she was travelling. A sudden liope sprang np in her
mind that the revel might bo held in honour of the
festival of the Church ; if so she might have nothing
to fear. She did not believe in religion, but at thi-
time she realized its use. It was this hope that in-
spired her with courage to follow the path round the
last shed, and to take one step beyond the last shadow-
ing wall, to see what was to be seen.

The sight that met her eye w^as indeed a festival
in honour of Christmas, but not of that devout sort
which would have rendered her fearless.

In the centre lay heaped the red logs of what had
been a huge bonfire. Yellow flame still sometimes!
leaped from them, but a hot red glow was the princi-|
pal part of the firelight. All around this, seated,
some on logs, some upon the ground, were a com-
pany of about twelve men, dressed in the roughest!
fashion. "With tw^o exceptions they were not only
' hardened and wuld-looking, but evidently of a low]
grade in the social scale. Of the two who as evi-
dently did not belong to the same class, the morel
noticeable was apparently master of the place, or fori
the time being king of the revels. He sat upon a seat!

ML.

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

somcwliat raised above the otliers and at the side of
the ring opposite to the snow-pile pgainst which ^Mary
btood. ller knowledge of the world was of such sort
tliut she recognized the type to which Lis face be-
longed instantly, lie was a man who had early
worked his way through all the vices of society, and
having graduated with the degree of outcast, liad
brought to the wild Western life an education which
enabled hiin to develop its most dangerous elements,
lie had a handsome daring face, and wore a battered
remnant of gentility in his haughty bearing.

The first moment that the young English woman
stood among the snow-heaps in the darkling confines
of the firelight was enough to give her a tolerably
clear comprehension of the beings with whom she
had to do. She had forgotten the diamond upon her
liand ; involuntarily the same hand stole to her breast
to feel if the packet of money hidden there lay well
concealed. Just one moment she hesitated, and then
s]»e would have turned and fled anywhere into the
pitiless wilderness, but she had not the opportunity.

AVith a howl of terror, one of the roughest of
tlie men threw down his cards and staggered to his
feet. They all looked toward the figure at which he
pointed.

Those who sat wath their backs to her stumbled
over each other in the panic of terror with which
they turned and faced her. • • ; ^

THE :madonna of a day.

fj'j;,',

They had all been drinking freely ; the terror of
more than one of thein found vent in a groan or cry.
The rougher men stood huddled together between
her and the fire ; the master of the carouse stood up
in his place, staring with keen anxiety. Twice he
passed his hands before his eyes ; he desired to pro-
claim that he saw nothing, but he only continued to
stare.

What courage the girl had had, and all her world-
ly shrewdness and bargaining spirit, forsook her, per-
haps by very sympathy with the terror she inspired.
Her heart so beat with the fear of what might hap-
pen when these men regained their courage that she
was powerless to do other than simply stand motion-
less before them.

Then suddenly some of the foremost kneeled be-
fore her on the ground, and, with abject gestures,
began to mutter to themselves, and to her, rhythmic
sentences. The man who had first seen her, a big
half-tipsy Celt, began in Irish accents to whine out
the conclusion that he also had reached.

"It's the Ilowly Motherr herself! May the
Saints presarve us ! May Iliven have mercy on our
tjowls, for we need it this day. It's the Ilowly Moth-
err come to tell us what sinners we arr."

There she stood in the eternal sanctity of young
and beautiful womanhood, her eyes wide and bright
with piteous excitement, her rounded cheeks pallid

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

35:«r

with fear. The winter wind moved lightly what
folds of her blue veil w^ere hanging loose from her
liead downward ; the hand that had in reality been
feeling for the safety of her purse seemed to be laid
in saintly meekness upon her breast, and in the fire-
light the diamond upon it flashed as the stars flashed
in the black heaven above. Behind her, stretching
into inimitable shadow, was the wilderness of moun-
tain snow across which no earthly woman could have
come alone, beside her the wall of the rude stable
through which the movements of the oxen could be
heard — and it was Christmas night.

Some dim dramatic notion of the meaning of the
scene, of the character that had been thrust upon her,
was not long in coming to the girl's quick mind.
She did not at first grasp its full significance ; she
thought of it as the transient farce of a moment.
The men at her feet, half drunk, were mastered by
the superstitions of their class. She perceived that it
was with their leader that she would have to do ;
he, hardened and reckless, was coming in a moment
to kick aside the delusion with a sneer, so she
thought.

He did come ; he did kick aside something, but it
was only the bodies of the kneeling men w^ho were
in his way. He strode up fiercely and stood before
her; he bent his handsome, reckless, wicked face
down to the level of hers, and stared hard.

r'
h.. ,'(l

If! ' B

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

She liad never before experienced such a misery
of fear and dislike, for she had never had cause ;
yet even in this moment, knowing tliat upon this
man's pleasure hung her life, she did not betray her
repulsion ; she looked at him steadily ; she tried to
speak.

She made the motion of throat and lips that pro-
duces voice, but no voice came, only the faintest
whisper that hardly reached her own ears. She re-
alized now what that strange strained feeling in her
throat had been as she had walked through the winter
night : the intense cold had robbed her of the power
of speech. She stood before her persecutor dumb.

Upon her art of argument and persuasion she had
relied as the only weapon by which she could possibly
save herself. Finding that she was unable to speak,
losing at the same moment all hope, the pathos of her
situation brought to her the sudden impulse to hide
her face and w^eep bitterly. She overcame it with in-
stinctive courage, but upon her face was written a
mute appeal that no dramatic effort could have painted
there.

The man who for a minute, w^ith eyes that were
bold enough, had inspected the youthful contour of the
face, the rich veiling, the simplicity of her gown, sud-
denly, still staring at her, staggered backwards ; even
in the firelight the sudden pallor of his face, the hag-
gard draw'ing of its lines, was visible.

Ibore
iiiinsi
lie lipi
Form

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

On seeing that he had given way, the big Irish-
man threw himself with his face upon the ground, and
cried hke a boy who was being beaten, witli mingled
howls and exclamations. Three of the men slunk
away one after the other round the other end of the
shed ; some still upon their knees continued to mumble
prayers.

Grasping at the straw of her temporary safety, a
lono-ing that the delusion might continue found a place
in her heart. She had no hope as yet that this might
be possible. Although with little perception of the
remote distance between her inmost self and the char-
acter she personated, she still felt too entirely removed
from all that was religious and supernatural to per-
ceive to the full the excuse for the men's delusion.
She would not have scrupled to act the character
ciumce had assigned to her if she had known how to
do it or hoped to succeed, but because she feared to
play a part, and because she abstained from natural
[emotion lest the spell should be broken, the men saw
j nothing but a silent gentle girl, and she perfectly ful-
iilled their ideal, such inarticulate undefined ideal as
[they had, of the Queen of Heaven.

The only man who, like the master of the company,
|bore signs of having lived once in civilization, gathered
liimself up now from the ground where all this time
he had been sitting, and came forward. lie was de-
formed and thereby dwarfed. He had a lean, nerv-

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Oils, cynical face. It seemed to her that his deformity
might have made him interesting if he had not seemed
so tlioronghly a cad in spite of it. She feared him
the more because of his ingrained caddishness. All
this time he had been sitting staring, like the others,
at the apparition of the blue-veiled woman ; now he
did not bestow further uitention upon her appearance.
He touched the arm of the man who had peered so
rudely in her face.

" I thay, Hamilton, there muth be a cawiage or a
cab at the fwont gate."

Hamilton turned upon him with upraised arm, as
if he would have felled him with one blow ; then, in-
stantly changing, he gave a furtive look all round, as
fearing he knew not what, and questioned the other's
face with his eyes.

" Well, I thay, you might atli well come and thee
— mutht have come here thome way, you know."

" By , shut up ! " The ejaculation came from

the other in muffled haste, and with it again a mo-
mentary raising of the powerful arm as if it twitched
to take vengeance upon some one ; and then, without
another word or glance, without another instant's hesi-
tation, he strode past the men, past the fireplace, round
the other end o": the shed where some of the men had
already disappeared. There was purpose in his stride ;
the girl knew that he was acting upon the suggestion
of the deformed dwarf who followed at his heels.

real it

came

lieara

own

divin]

nuird(

those

SI:

her hi

down

away

THE MADONXA OF A DAY.

She was left now alone with the little group of
men whose ignorant superstition had for the hour been
changed by the sight of her into undoubting devotion
— such devotion as they were capable of, which was
manifested chiefly by tlie bringing forward of their
own desires, for, under the impression that her stay
with them must be very short, they had already begun
to mingle audible petitions with the confused Aves
and Paternosters, that she could neither hear nor un-
derstand. To her astonishment she heard herself be-
sought to intercede for them. Accusing themselves
wildly, they spoke to her as if she must be aware that
they had killed certain of their enemies, and tlieir
desire to be forgiven in heaven was confused with
bemoanings concerning a penalty to be paid on
earth.

AYhile these petitions swiftly proved to her the
reality of the delusion which had occurred, she be-
came too frightened by the nature of what she
heard to think how best to turn the delusion to her
own account. Even these men who believed in her
divinity confessed themselves capable of violence and
nmrder, and no doubt she had more to fear from
those others who did not believe.

She dared not continue to stand where she was ;
her back was to the path by which she had come, for
down that path assuredly the men who had gone
away would soon return. Fearing that in the silent

)

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

snow they might steal upon her unawares, she herself
turned and went slowly back to meet them.

There was a certain amount of dramatic instinct
in the very blood of this modern girl. Too much
afraid to play a part consciously, she yet was inca-
pable, within hearing of the Aves, which w^ere still
repeated, of walking with her ordinary free and easy
gait; she paced slowly, because she was afraid of
what might await her at the other side, and the mien
which she instinctively assumed was vei-y dignified
and very modest. AValking thus, with the Irish la-
bourers following and still calling upon her in prayer,
she came upon the open space between the sheds, in
front of that first shed which seemed to be the dwell-
ing-house.

Several of the men had been examining the road
with a lantern. They were still standing outside the
gat _ conversing with one another — not peacefully ;
there were signs of agitation and irritation in their
tones and movements. The upshot of the colloquy
was only an evident increase of perplexity and con-
sternation in them all. The girl's mind was wide
awake to what concerned her safety ; she saw clearly
that she must be at so great a distance from any other
settlement or dwelling that the fact that they found
no vehicle, or track of vehicle, made her appearance
seem to them entirely inexplicable, if not supernatu-
ral. With this evidence of the isolation of her pres-l

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

ent situation her lieart sank ; slie was tired, hungry,
coUl, ill, and in peril.

The man Hamilton came suddenly in from the
gate ; some further thought of inquiry seemed to
have occurred to him. With an evident effort of
boldness, again he came quite near. He, too, knelt
at her feet, laying the lantern upon the ground ; his
object was not prayer, but the inspection of her foot-
gear. When he had looked for a full minute at the
dainty woollen slippers, snow-caked though they were,
he rose and recoiled from her again. His compan-
ions came up, standing behind him ; the lantern re-
niuiiied upon the ground like a footlight; they all
looked at the weary girlish figure it displayed, at the
face in its blue veil, at tlie white jewelled hands, at the
simple petticoat trinmaed with snow as with ermine
edging, at the tiny bedraggled slippers and aching feet.

" She can't have travelled more than a mile at
most, and kept them things on her feet." The words
came in a low cautious tone from one of the men at
the back.

" She ain't no ghost," whispered anotlier.

The voice of an American came out upon the
inght air with startling clearness. " I'd be a deal
less scared, for my part, of all the ghosts and spirits
in creation, for they could have come here quite natu-
ral accordin' to their usual ways of going about. But
how this sweet blooming gal—

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Some one with a wliispered volley of oaths si-
lenced him.

Some one else instantly exclaimed, " Stop it ! I'll

be if I hear another word of language afore

her."

The thrill of a new idea seemed suddenly to pass 1
through this group of men who stood in the sceptical |
attitude toward the Madonna of their more ignorant
fellows. There was an instant's hesitation, and then
the dwarf took his hat off and held it in his hand ; |
the others did the same thing, last of all the master
of the place, Hamilton.

CHAPTEK Y.

The girl lay alone upon a small camp bed in the

midst of the one long low room which constituted

tlie whole interior of the dwelling-house. On either

side of her was a row of similar camp beds ; they

l^vere all empty. The room was hot, for a huge fire

)f logs had been made in the large iron stove; the

room was dark, except for fitful gleams of flame

|ie:ht that struggled through the closed dampers.

he windows, placed somewhat high in the wooden

m\h, were black as uncurtained glass is black when

has the darkest hour of night behind it. There

'US no sound but the soft noise of the fire which had

}ased to crackle and the dull tramping of animals in

[leir wooden stables. The stillness of snow was upon

|ie land outside, the stillness of sleep upon the men

rho had gone to huddle among the straw in the

[armth of the stalls.

The girl was not asleep ; she lay motionless, afraid

rise and move about lest her movements might in

^me way be spied upon, and she might thereby en-

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

dancrer herself. She did not know who beside herscif
slept or woke ; she did not know upon what terms
she held her present safety ; a slow fever from the
chill through which she had passed was workin<ij
through her veins, and the profound excitement of
apprehension and anxious scheming kept the current
of thought coursing within her brain.

There were minutes together wherein she could
not make herself believe that she lay where she did
lie, and in the heart ot so strange a situation. Surely
there was some mistake ; she was such a common-
place person, well meaning too ; why should this have
befallen her? It was true that for years the main
object of her existence had been to appear something
other than commonplace, something much more dar-
ing than merely well-meaning. She had tried to dash
into literature ; she had dashed into foreign travel,
merely because to be inconspicuous and ordinary had
seemed intolerable ; and yet now she found herself
pleading these very attributes against the caprice of a
too-cruel fate.

All the time she showed this much strength,
physical and mental, that she lay still. She per-
ceived that it was in order that she might rest that a
dozen rude men had resigned house-room and com-
fort ; it would be well, then, that she should satisfy
their expectations and appear to rest. For her, in
very truth, the night had a thousand eyes, for she had

TOR MADONNA OF A DAY.

no means of knowing where her enemies had be-
stowed themselves. Were they enemies? Were tliey
friends? How could she tell? The thing which
was eating into her heart with an ever-increasing
wonder was the belief that even the cleverest and
wickedest of them was under the glamour of a
str.mge delusion about herself, and it was to
this alone that she owed their neutrality, if not
direct friendliness. Through the confusion of her
thoughts she began to realize more and more clear-
ly that that on wdiich she relied for safety was her
power to fall in, moment by moment, with the re-
quirements of this delusion. • This new character,
indeed, seemed to wrap her round as a vesture, so
vividly had it been impressed on her excited nerves
as her only shield. AVhat this character was she did
not put to herself in words ; she only felt intuitively
the outward semblance of the graces which it im-
plied. Her efforts to escape, then, must be in this
guise.

So far she had arrived at some clearness of
diought ; now suddenly all her nerves vibrated to
a slight sound, the creak that a footfall makes upon
light, hard-frozen snow. She heard a hand laid
I almost noiselessly upon the latch from without; her
pulses seemed to stop, and then move madly, and stop

lagam.

The door silently opened, perhaps an inch or two ;

I !

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

she felt the cold air enter instantly, an invisible her-
ald of what danger she could not guess.

Whoever was there it seemed would have entered,
but another footfall, as quiet but much more hasty,
was heard, and a slight scuiHe, a low growl almost
like that of two dogs. Out of the confused stealthy
noises of this quarrel the girl began to hear the
whispering of two voices, the door still standing ajar,
the men as it seemed holding each other back upon
the threshold. They were the voices of Hamilton
and of the deformed cynical man who lisped.

The lisp struck her ear again as something pecul-
iarly horrible, because, altliough evidently an actual
impediment of speech, it had the sound of an affecta-
tion which, in the midst of such a life, would have
denoted a character almost inhuman in its love of
pretence.

The dwarf's voice came first. "You're a d

fool, Hamilton. I am only going to thee if the lady
ith here."

" And why shouldn't she be there ? " Hamilton's
voice was tense, suggesting fierce feeling of more
than one sort, but controlled to a fixed limit.

" If I could have theen the cawiage that bwouglit
her here I'd have more idea why the thould weraain.
How could I thleep for the devilith queerneth of it?
If it ith devilith queer, why should we be a pair of I
foolth and give her time to be off again ? " Then his I

TUB MADONNA OP A DAY.

voice changed from weak i .nonstranco to that other
more practical tone. '* Hamilton, have a look at the
divinity. If the'th vanithed into thin air there'th no
lijirni in going in ; if the'th there, we can look at the
fire and come out! "

The answer was in precisely the same tense voice.
" Will you come back to the stable, or "

It seemed as though neither of the men was
aware that the door was ajar. Perhaps the dwarf
had forgotten, and in the darkness Hamilton saw
nothing. The logs in the stove had ceased to flicker.

The dwarf said, "If you like a pwetty girl to be
left without a thpark of fire to catli her pwetty

death of cold I won't quawel with you " She

lost some words here.

Among those that followed only a few phrases
here and there w^ere distinct. She heard the word
"diamond." Then the dwarfs voice: "I'm dithint-
wethted " — " you are king here — " — " could get
Father Paul down from Cree thettlement " — " come
here of her own accord — her own doing."

Hamilton's voice was more distinct : " What I
say is, I'll have a look at her by daylight. When the
Sim's up we'll know whether it's angel or devil, or
what it is." The tense voice changed to almost a
reflective tone. "By Heaven, I wish I knew now
which it is."

The dwarf's voice came again; the accent was

.|':!5

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

distinctly lower middle class. Tncre was a sneer in
it that made licr sure that this man, at least, had no
sense of honour. " Ton my thoul, I'm conthumed
with cuwiothity to know if i'th vanithed into thin air
or not — only hothpitable to put more wood on the
fire."

With a smothered exclamation at finding the door
open, they came in and crossed the floor on tiptoe.

The girl had heard them coming ; she had decided
what to do. With hands pressed togetlier upon her
breast, as if her last waking motion had been prayer,
she lay as it seemed in a sleep of childlike innocence.

When the men had come within a yard of her
pallet bed they lit a bit of broken candle. The light
revealed the room in all its coarse and even uncleanly
detail. The other beds had clothes and blankets
rudely strewn upon them. Under a table, boots,
pipes, bottles, and such ugly articles, had been hastily
hidden, and were still protruding from a cover too
small for the heap. On one bed lay the young
woman wrapped around in fine silk ; her sleeping
face and folded hands looked to the men's eyes like
wax or tinted alabaster. More than that, in the face
and the plump curves of the iiands there was some-
thing other than mere beauty of form and colour-
there was the woman's soul, as it seemed to them|
dependent upon their strength — innocent, trustful.

A minute passed, and then one of them went oiil

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

tiptoe to tlie stove, and renewed its fuel with a touch
more deft and silent than would have appeared pos-
sible ; then thej went out again, and shut the door.

She could not hear now what they said to one
another, but it seemed that they parted, for after she
had heard one go to another shed, she heard the other
begin to pace up and down before the door of the
house. One of them had chosen to pace there as
sentry ; after a v/hile she felt sure, from the length
and strength of the step, that the sentry was Hamil-
ton.

■ )

CHAPTER YI.

If it had not been for that slow pacing of the
sentry's step Mary would have crept out in the dark-
ness, and gone as she had come, in the madness of
fear preferring the risk of dying in the wilderness of
snow. As it was she lay still through the night, un-
certain what to do. The first faint light began to
glimmer in the windows, and still she heard the
sentry's monotonous tread.

It w^as useless to think of eluding Hamilton's vigi-
lance. Well, even then, was it not better to rise and
essay to walk away, as if he were not there ? If he
detained her, at least they could not say that she re-
mained of her own free will, and her mind caught at
the knowledge that it must appear to them the more
inexplicable if she should attempt to leave them with-
out explanation, without means of travelling, and
with the apparent trust that they would let her go
iinchallenged.

The night before, when they had given her the
room to sleep in, they had also given her milk, and

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

of the remains which stood in a pail near the stove
she again drank deeply.

She wrapped the blue folds of the veil more
closely around her aching throat, but she did not fail
to drape the loose end over her head with such imita-
tion as' she could hastily make from memory of the
veils painters wrap about the head of the most divine
of women. She was too pressed by stern necessity
to give more than a dim passing thought to the sensa-
tion of farce, and yet, as far as she did recognize it,
she did not hate it, but looked upon it as a sensation
which in some future time of safety she could enjoy.

It was not yet daylight, only grey dawn upon the
land of snow, when she quietly opened the door with-
out any apparent fear, and stepped out towards the
opening of the enclosure. She saw the man stop his
walk and stare. She felt that some thanks for his
hospitality would have been given by the ideal wom-
an, but she knew^ not how to smile or wave her hand
as such a woman might ; she could only look at him
with large, childlike, and unconscious eyes. This
much she did, and went on down the path of snow.

The mati, with a few sudden hasty steps, came up
to her. She heard him close behind ; it was all that
she could do not to shrink from the touch which she
expected, yet she did not shrink, and the touch did
not come.

For a minute or more his footsteps followed hers.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Tlien, when elie got outside a rude paling and turned
upon the road by which slie had come, it seemed that
he had become convinced what it was she intended
to do. lie made past her, giving her a wide berth,
but turned and stood in the road directly in her path.

" Where are you going ? " asked Hamilton. The
words came as if some torrent of feeling, dammed up,
had found outlet.

She laid her hand upon her throat. It was an in-
stinctive gesture, but having found it so successful
the night before, there was something slightly more
dramatic in her use of it now. She was afraid the
man detected it, for he looked the more keenly at her.
Then she pointed forward upon the road, and made a
motion to move on.

" Do not go ! Come back ; w^e will give you
warmth and food ! " He spoke distinctly, as though
to a foreigner ; he spoke still as if the words were an
outlet to strong feeling, but she could not tell whether
the tone besought or commanded, or w^hether there
was not in it perhaps a suggestion that for some rea-
son he would feel relief if she went on her way.

After a moment's consideration she walked past
him upon the light edge of the deeper snow, and, as if
apparently forgetting liis very existence, went on
steadily. :

He stood, she thought, watching her for some time ;
then he started to follow her and she heard his foot-

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

■:> i.

steps come near. Then, again, another thought came
to liim, for he went back, leaving her to go on alone
and, as it seemed, free.

At first she was so absorbed in the fear that he
might return that she did not for a long time take any
notice of the features of the world, which every mo-
ment grew lighter and clearer.

Yet curiously enough, although she feared his re-
turn, the sense of freedom w^as in itself a sense of dis-
appointment. The sudden loss of the excitement
which his presence produced resulted in depression.
With the effort of walking in the snow slie began to
feel her own feebleness, and before her lay — what ?

She raised her head now and looked about her.
From the declivity of the mountain notch down which
si 10 was walking she could see on either side only the
slopes and cliffs which rose immediately about her.
On her left a noisy stream w^as descending precipitous
rocks. At its base there was a cutting in the ground,
and an erection of wooden troughs, used, evidently, for
mining purposes. On this side tall nr-trees were
clinging to the steep, but the other slope of the notch
was almost bare of trees, as was the level bottom, as if
in time past some descending glacier had scraped the
surface. Outside the notch lay a wide valley, the
de[)th of which was bridged by her line of vision. All
of its surface that she could see was clothed by forests
of firs, dark, green, and cold. Beyond it snow-covered

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

mountains stood, range above range. So clear was tne
air that it did not seem to her that she had far to go to
obtain a full view of the valley at the side of which the
railway ran — it did indeed but appear a few minutes'
walk, and yet when she had walked a mile it hardly
seemed nearer.

She judged, from the apparent height of the dis-
tant mountains, that she could be at no great altitude.
She had a sense of proximity to other mountains
higher and nearer than those she saw. Perhaps she
dimly remembered their outlines, seen in the darkness
of the night before. At present her view was shut in.

The light snow gave more or less under her weary
feet. The twilight of morning had brought such a
dead and frost-bitten hue upon wold of snow and forest
fir that her very soul felt chilled in correspondence
with this strangely drear environment. The great ex-
citement of the previous night, which had culminated
in her escape, had its effect of reaction, now that all
cause of excitement was absent for the moment, in a
mood of hopelessness which she had never experienced
before.

Following the one track which broke the surface
of the snow, Mary came where the railway had been
built across the front of the notch. When she stood
upon its firm broad road, the sides of the notch no
longer shut in her vision, and her eye swept eagerly
the landscape.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Parallel with tlie railroad, but much deeper in the
valley, ran a tumultuous river ; its rapid current was
dark as ink ; its banks were deep curling drifts of snow,
fringed at the water's edge with grots and caves of ice
and basalt-like formation of icicles. A wide area of
rock, covered with snow and ice, here extended on
either side of the river. The bare railway embank-
ment rose sheer from these rocks, but on the other side
the level of the valley was covered with an evergreen
forest of gigantic trees. In the distance, to what
seemed to her the south-west, this valley narrowed,
conducting the river through a rocky gorge. This was
the only gap in the ring of mountains, which, some
nearer, some farther away, surrounded the whole scene.
Directly opposite her to the south and south-east, hill
ahove hill, peak above peak, range beyond range, stood
cold and white. Where the river came from she could
not tell, for mountains with wooded sides blocked the
valley quite near her to the east. Considering the
problem of the river, she at length turned her eyes
from what had been before her, and lifted them to
that part of the view immediately behind the side of
the notch by which she had been walking. And then
it seemed that all these other hills were standing in
reverence, a little apart from a mountain peak that was
monarch of them all. As her eye travelled up the snow-
clad declivities of this high mountain, she felt her mind
lifted into a different class of thoughts and sensations.

^^f

m :^

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Why sliould earth have been so formed that a
vast monument of such transcendent beauty should
happen to stand here in this bleak chaotic place?
Against the cold transparent blue of the northern
sky, in which the stars of night had but lately died,
its massive peak, a pyramid as it were of smaller
peaks and ridges, stood white and glistening. Her
eye began to examine curiously certain slopes of
snow and ice some distance from its summit ; they
were such im, onse plains, and yet they were but an
inch or two upon the surface of this glorious edifice
of nature. These plains of uplifted snow grew
brighter ; there was nothing here of that dead tint of
cold tliat lay on the surrounding hills ; then she saw
nature's smile, the golden sunshine, light up the
mountain's peak and glittering heart.

She looked around once more. In the east the
furthest hills were merely fringed with the same
light, all else was dull and, by comparison, grey.
She turned again to the vision that her heart loved ;
in some way it gladdened her and saddened her at
once. It filled her with a strange excitement ; its
mere height seemed to reveal a depth within herself
which she had never seen before.

What did it mean ? She found herself struggling
with the belief that it meant something to her, just as
words spoken from another mind to hers would have
had meaning.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

She began to fight against tliis impression. She
had seen nionntains before ; they had had no mean-
ing for her. Scene after scene among the Alps oc-
curred to her mind. The pure gracious outline of
tlieir heights had made no great impression upon
her, yet now, as her memory dwelt upon them, she
began to think they also had spoken. She had been
deaf, but they had spoken ; this mountain was now
speaking, and she was awaking from her deafness.

She grew confused ; she could not understand
herself. Sometimes, not often, she had heard music
which had given her a sense of lieart-sick longing
which was something akin to what she now felt.
She had never had any other impulse than to extin-
guish such unreasoning emotion in herself by plung-
iiiir into other interests. She looked about her now
for some form of practical activity which would put
an end to the strained exaltation of heart which al-
most frightened her.

The sledge track by which she had come crossed
the raihvay and descended the embai kment by a
curve. The river was not very wdde ; a rough bridge
of loi^s was built across it. The sledge track went on,
and was lost to view in the opposite forest. Were
the bridge and the road signs that more than one
settlement must lie within reach ? or had they been
made by railway navvies, who, their work finished,
could not be expected to remain in this inclement

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

region during the winter? ller only means of an-
swering these (luestions was to follow the road and
see whither it led.

Yet for a moment she lingered, turning again
with the rebound of relief to the beauty of the moun-
tain. She stood looking up, and again while she so
looked her mind was lifted out of the immediate de-
tails of her own peril. Above the tree-line the snows
and icy crags rose slope above slope, blue at first and
cold, then white and dazzling, all the lines and curves
reaching upward. It did not make her sad ; it made
her joyful. The mountain's word was like a new
music, not the tender strains that had heretofore been
the only music that had appealed to her, making her
sad, but a severe grand strain, to which before this
she had been deaf, which she did not even now
understand ; but she knew this much, that it was full
of joy.

She must go, she dared not linger, and the sense
of the vast joy of which the mountain was singing
made h3r stronger. She crossed the railway and
went down to the river. Slie ran across the bridge
of logs, fearful lest the glimpses of the black swirl-
ing water seen between their cracks should make her
balance unsteady. She passed on where the track
was uneven among the rocks of the river bank. The
shades of the forest were very dark. It seemed to
her that it might be a covert for beasts or savage

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

men. She had hastened, so that it had taken her but
a few minutes to reach the confines of its massive
uiftles.

She turned again and looked at the mountain, as
tlie Greeks represent their dying ones to have looked
at the sun before entering the shadow of the other
world. The light was beginning to touch the tops of
the other hills ; they too, pure and white, pointed
upwards, and the great peak rose colossal and glitter-
ing, as it seemed, into the very sky.

The meaning came to her now — a flash of thought
that seemed like sunrise in her soul. The mountain
sang of an inspiration toward an impossible perfec-
tion, the struggle for which was the joy, the only joy,
of the universe.

This meaning came to her in knowledge which
ignored the use of words, u^cause it transcended
them. The strange thing was that to this sincere
good-natured little woman the mountain's music told
of an ideal that was to her absolutely new.

She had striven with pertinacity for what had
seemed to her noblest in life, yet now she saw herself
as a child, who with innocent unconsciousness has
been enjoying a play in a dirty place, will sometimes
suddenly perceive the filthiness its raiment when
it rises to meet its mother's embrace. Ah, if the past
had only been a striving for something absolutely
noble ! It seemed to her that all her ideals had been

» )

TIIK MADONNA OF A DAY.

nil

relative, only comparatively good. She was sur-
rounded by unknown perils; she might not live
much longer, and the past, even the noblest of it.
seemed sordid and trivial.

It is always to be observed that when human
skill tries to deal with human penitence, it does so
by painting the sin blacker and again more black,
and endeavouring to increase the tears of the soul.
When we come near to God, Controller of forces
physical and spiritual, of the tempest, of incarnate
devils, and of the springs of a woman's heart, it is
never so. Penitence is met with instant encourage-
ment. There is no accusation ; there is the wisdom
that is given without upbraiding; there is the com-
mand of perfect hope — " Go, sin no more."

As the girl turned into the dark pathway of the
forest, it occurred to her as a strange reminiscence
that heretofore her highest ambition had been to be
true to herself, to develop her own life to its utmost
as to pleasure and utility. Now that for some
moments she had worshipped something — she knew
not what — she felt with a new hope that she would
aspire to a standard other than this and higher. In
the hour of penitence we have a very clear insight
into reality, but that which we see instinctively can-
not quickly be translated into reasoned thought, and
is still more slow in finding its expression in action.

CHAPTEE YII.

The trees of this forest were of a giant race;
tlieir great trunks arose in dense shade from the
ground. There was no underbrush, but in the case
uf the cedars, their brandies, when tliey could obtain
ruoni, dipped almost to the ground, outspreading in
curving fans. The upper branches were so high that
Mary could not easily look at them ; they seemed to
1)0 disposed in and out of one another in immense
shelves of shade, rising layer above layer. It was
with the trunks, and with the ground beneath them,
that her eye grew more familiar. The cedars and the
lirs had dull red tints upon them. Sometimes a
branch, or a whole tree, of cedar was dead, and had
turned the dull hue of red that one sees in dead
bracken. The ground was covered with snow that
had powdered through the branches. It did not look
like the outer snow ; its crystals told the tale of its
sifting. Covered by it lay the forms of huge moss-
i,n*o\vn logs, lying often under the very roots of the
trees now standing. The living trees had been sown
upon their fallen progenitors.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Tliroiigli this forest a little road ran, so narrow
by comparison witli the height of its arching roof
that it seemed as if it were the diligence of pigmies
that had removed all obstacles from it. The snow-
carpet here w^as marked with the track of the horse
and sledge, just as in the open ; but these tracks now
seemed almost such as a little bird might have made,
60 dwarfed did any sign of human life appear. It
seemed to Mary that the trees looked down upon her,
and saw a little creature dressed in clinging skirts,
travelling as fast as her strength would perr^it —
slowly at that — and that they spoke to one another,
saying how^ weak and insignificant she was, and that
she was going forw^ard amid great dangers, and that,
unless there was a God in the world, she had no one
to protect her.

There had always been some poetic sense within
her, and being thus cast, with fever in her blood, into
the arms of so strange a phase of nature, this part of
her spoke loud for the first time. It was not for
long. It is not according to the law which growth
of character obeys that new thoughts, new feelings,
spiritual or poetical, should abide with us. It is not
until they are old thoughts, old feelings, that they
abide. Our first glimpses of them are very transient;
their impress remains, but they pass as if they had
left no impress, and the laws which govern circum-
stance no sooner touch us into finer feeling than they

w-i

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

jostle lis with tliat wliicli is most mundane. There is
evidently something wholesome in the transition.

It was not long before Mary began to feel that
physical ill was fastening upon her. Her head
throbbed : she felt that, in spite of the cold air, her
cheeks were burning ; she felt the lassitude of illness
in every limb.

This was before she had walked very far, and she
supposed that her life depended upon her going
much further. The grey and red squirrels that leapt
among the branches, the crows cawing in gaps that
opened to the sky far above her head, might live in
the forest, but she could not.

To her great relief she began to see signs of an
opening in the trees ; there was light farther on, and
soon she could discern, through the long avenue
which the road made, an arch which appeared to be
the end of the wood.

It was just when she had seen this that she began
to hear a sound behind her. Gradually she distin-
guished the jingling sound made by the harness of a
horse attached to a sledge. Her first impulse was to
stop and lean against a tree, waiting to implore the
friendly aid of whoever might be driving that way.
Then came the swift and painful recollection that
that road led only from the house which she had left.

Incapable of moving faster, she pressed steadily
on towards the opening of the forest. There must

I 1 »

THE MADOXNA OF A DAY.

be some lioiise in the clearing ; she was filled with a
frantic desire to reach it before the sledge from the
farm in the notch could come near her. Yet as in a
dream, her feet were heavy, and would only move
slowly. The road curved behind her, so that she
could not see the sledge, but in the dense stillness she
could liear the horse's hoofs in the snow.

The sledge came on at the steady natural pace of
the horse, apparently without interference from the
driver. Mary gained the edge of the wood, and still
the slednje was behind her.

Before her was a 1 "ge clearing. The trees, prob-
ably a special sort of timber, had evidently been
felled and used for some ])urpose sucli as the building
of the railway. There was the sound to one side of a
stream rushing, and in the same direction several log
houses and wooden slieds. There was no fence or
enclosure of any kind. The road led on to the huts.
Mary went towards them without a moment's hesita-
tion. She felt certain that in some one of them there
must be a kindly woman to whom she could tell her
story, and yet they looked strangely desolate.

Before she reached the huts, the horse which was
drawing the sledge came up close behind her on the
narrow track. It slackened speed and followed her;
she heard no voice. She stood aside in the snow;
she looked at the sledge. So strange was her mood
and the circumstance, that to be calm was little effort

THE iAFADONXA OF A DAY.

to lier. Across the sledge and be3'oiid the wood she
saw the mountains and the majestic glittering peak.
The sense of exaltation this brought her, the fever
that was upon her, and the instinctive self-efl'acement
which her late acting had taught her, joined together
to give the rounded outline of her girlish face an
almost unearthly grace.

The one man who stood upon the sledge had no
demonstrative nature, and yet he looked upon her
with renewed bewilderment. The man was Hamil-
ton. He stood upright upon the low, flat, unpainted
sledge, holding the reins of the small shaggy horse
which he drove. The horse had been checked by a
touch when Mary had swerved aside. Horse and
man stood motionless, and even the beast turned its
head and looked her full in the face.

The girl had counted upon the sledge passing
while she paused ; moment by moment passed, and
she saw no ending to this silent interview.

At last the man said, "Where are you going?
AVhy did you leave me ? " Ilis was not merely a dar-
ing and imperious face, but it was a bad face, although
just now there was no thought or feeling expressed
there that a good man might not have thought and
felt. In sjnte of himself, his voice trembled as a true
lover's might. lie seemed surprised by this, knit his
brows and stopped speaking. Then lie said again,
'' I only let you go away in order that I might tell the

..f-.-

THE MADONNA OF A T VY.

boys that you were gone. I knew that I could follow
you wherever you went. I saw the track of your
feet upon the road. There is no place anywhere in
this region where I cannot follow you." When he
spoke of his fellows, his tone had for the moment
been haughty, but for the rest it was mild, with an
effort at pleasing.

She did not speak to him ; she could not, even if
she had desired. As it seemed that he would not
pass her, she quietly went on before the horse to the
log houses.

She was considering in her mind why it was that
she could not get out of his power. Did he know
that these houses were empty, or that the people in
them were powerless to protect her ? Surely not, for
she saw smoke issuing from the chimneys, and she
heard the sound of a good many voices within.

When they reached a space that was cleared of
snow in front of the principal log building, Hamilton
left his sledge and came up beside her, looking at her
progress in the direction of the door with great
curiosity.

" "Why are you going in here ? " he asked.
" Where have you come from ? What errand can
you have here ? "

It seemed as if he spoke by way of relief to his
own mind, for he had apparently ceased to expect
her to answer.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

I (
I

Ilis tone inspired lier with greater curiosity as to
what she should see within, but not with greater
liope. She knocked at the door, and he stood aside
watching her keenly.

The sound of voices within continued monoto-
nously, but in a minute the door was opened. In the
minute that she had been kept waiting the continued
gaze of Hamilton's eyes had become so repulsive to
her that in sheer fear of him she stepped across the
threshold as soon as the door gave to her gentle
pressure.

The scene she saw seemed at first like the passing
dream of a fevered brain. The interior, dark by
reason of frost upon the small window-panes, was
furnished in a manner far more rude and foreign
than the house from which she had come, and in it
sat a large circle of men — grotesque, ugly figures ;
most of them were squatting in a circle round a low
table, playing at some game with dice. When her
thought cleared after a moment, she perceived they
were Chinamen.

It seemed that, in their taciturn indifference, they
had not proposed to turn from their game because
their door had been opened to admit a stranger, but
after a moment some quiet word or sign seemed to
pass from one to another. They turned, they looked,
they rose and stood about her. The best evidence
of their surprise was perhaps that they did not ask

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

why she liad come. There was a minute's silence
while they crowded behind one another to look at
her more closely. Then they grinned at her, making,
as it seemed to her, horrid grimaces ; yet perhaps it
was a natural smile of welcome to a vision which in
the foul reek and gloom of this hut seemed more
than ever beautiful and pure.

Sickened as she was by the smoke and smell and
her loathing of the men, whose grins appeared to her
insulting, she still searched with her eyes every cor-
ner of the dark interior, for the impulse was strong
upon her to look for the friendly face of some
woman ; but none was to be seen. She remembered
now that she had heard that Chinese navvies had
been employed upon the roads in this country. She
knew enough to know that the Chinese do not take
their women with them to foreign lands. A mo-
ment's thought told her that here for her there was
no hope.

She became conscious that Hamilton was standing
in the doorway behind her, that the Chinamen were
beginning to look to liim as the one apparently who
knew the answer to the riddle of her presence. She
shook her head, as if to show that she had missed
her way, and went out again into the bleak air of
the morning.

Her heart so sank with the disappointment that
she could have wept, although she was not a woman

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

(^\\'GH to tears. Wliere could she go now? She
lifted up her eyes and looked. On all sides of the
clearing was the forest ; on all sides of the forest, the
mountains. The grey cold as of the unborn day
was still upon all the valley and the eastern heights.
The only sight that brought her the slightest comfort
was the golden glory of the peaks upon the other
side, the highest mountain rising among them ; but
the thouglit of hope and light which they forced
upon her was not of an earthly and temporal sort; it
merely lay passive in her mind together with the
realization of her present hapless case.

While she had stopped bewildered, all the China-
men from the hut and from tlie log houses came out,
and now they stood around her again. There was
no awe upon their faces ; they grinned ; they talked
to one another. No doubt to them, in the midst of
a foreign land, her advent and appearance did not
seem beyond the range of explicable things. Tliey
were interested and curious. They seemed to know
Hamilton well, and spoke to him ; but he did not
answer, only continued to look with interested curi-
osity to see what dealings she miglu ave with them,
or they with her.

A minute more and tlr Chinamen had arrived
at an explanation. Their English was meagre, but
with polite laughter they spoke enough of it to make
tlioir thought clear.

t > i

j i

i ;

I i

THE MADONXA OF A DAY.

" Hamilton gotce wifee. Ilim showee wifoe."
Hysterical laughter fought within her with the
desire for tears. She betrayed neither, but the self-
repression resulted in a trembling of her whole frame,
60 that she felt that she was on the verge of some
pitiful attack of extreme weakness. Looking as
though she had not understood, she walked feebly
away by the only road.

She heard Hamilton's word of command to his
horse. The sound of hoofs in the snow and the
jingling of the harness followed close behind her.

■^IBfc*.

CIIAPTEE Till.

Mary began to wonder to herself how it would
have been with her if she had entered the settlement
of the Chinese navvies without Hamilton for her
guard. She thought of her money and the jewel
that now also lay in her bosom. An awful picture
of her own murdered body being hidden in the
ground by these grinning heathen rose before her
fevered brain. In this last adventure she was forced
to believe that this man Hamilton had proved a
friend.

He must needs yet prove a friend to her if there
was to be any peaceful ending to her present state
of wretchedness, for, as she came again to tlie place
where the only track upon the snow turned back to-
wards the forest, she realized that there was no other
human dwelling within her reach, and her strength
had wholly failed her.

Her mind still grasped the idea that perfect noble-
ness of character would alone be sacred to this man,
and that perfect nobility implied the power to trust.
She had never been taught this, and yet she assumed

r- ' i':

TOE MADONNA OP A DAY.

it. Strong she could not appear, or free from the
petty ills of disease and helplessness, but it was possi-
ble to appear to trust absolutely all the good that was
in him ; and whatever bctided, it might be possible
to endure without betraying im])atience or any weak
apprehension. She had but a moment in which to
act; her limbs were failing beneath her, her brain
was almost incapable of thought.

She turned, and again made room for the horse to
pass. She made a gesture that slie required to rest
upon the sledge.

The man had made his own provision for this.
A bundle that was lying before him upon the bare
sledge proved to contain such pillows and blankets as
lie might have taken from his own bed. The sledge
was a small level platform, except that, in front,
where it might need to breast the snow, it inclined
upward. Upon the incline he bestowed the pillows
with hasty action. She rested upon the blanket, and
was thankful to lay her head down upon the pillows,
although they were but sacks of straw. The moment
she laid down her head she seemed to lose the power
to raise it ajjain. lie covered her with the bearskin
in which the bundle had been rolled. lie stood as
he had stood before, upright at the back of the
sledge, and drove on. In this way they went back
through that part of the forest through which they
had come.

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

Slic knew tliat licr streiigtli had gone, that she
was tlie prey of some acute illness produced by the
chill of tlie precediui^ night. She tried to think what
slie ought to do next, while she retained the power to
tliiuk.

ller mind with eagerness considered the occu-
pants of the railway carriage out of which she liad
fallen about eight hours before. It was now at such
iui hour of the morning that her fellow-travellers
might be rising from tlicir berths. She wondered
how long they would leave hers close curtained, sup-
posing her to be sleeping late. It was clear that no
one had known of lier misadventure at the time it
took })lace. llow then would they know it at all
until they sought for her within those curtains?
AVhon they did know lier gone, what would they
tliink ? "What would they do ? She wished now that
her own travelling companion had been a more affec-
tionate, a more unselfish, woman. She had never
missed these qualities in her before. She had been
content that her woman friends should be clever and
self-contained. She wondered now how much her
late companion would bestir herself. She found that
she could not easily fancy her greatly solicitous or
perturbed.

It would be impossible for those in the train to
know when or w4iere she had left it, or whether or
not she had left it ol lier own accord at one of the

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

several night stations. Under these circumstances it
was vain to hope tliat the place in which she now was
would he the place chosen for innnediate search. No
doubt her disappearance would be telegra])hed to the
different stations along the line ; if she could reach a
station she would be safe, but she had seen no road
that ran parallel with the railway, and she was con-
vinced that there was no station within reasonable
reach, because her appearance had appeared marvel-
lous.

There were minutes when her bodily state seemed
to numb the natural feehng of anxiety. She lay, her
cheek upon the pillow provided, and watched the huge
trunks of the forest trees as they glided past her. She
was interested to see the effect of the increasing light
in the great gloomy aisles of their shade ; for the shade
was less now than it had been, in token that the rays
of the sun were descending the nearer hills.

Was she losing her reason to be thus idly thinking
of the beauty of this forest? With an effort she
brought her mind back to the question of whither she
was being taken, and for what end. She felt the little
packet of gross worldly wealth lying heavy upon her
breast. Would the man beside her be influenced by
the offer of a bribe or payment, or would it be safer
not to let him know that she had money ?

She turned herself slightly so that she could look
up in his face. It was there that she must read her

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

iinniediate future. It was partly because of the fever
which fijave her a strange sense of unreality, that she
was able to lie quietly and look up at him as a child
would have done.

Fur a moment he returned her look with an effort
to appear at ease ; then he lifted his eyes to the level
of his horse, made some sounds which belong to the
driver's language, made a feint of rearranging his reins
and whip, and, relapsing into steady self-control, con-
tinued to look at the road in front and drove on
steadily.

Inwardly the girl had a giddy sensation that it was
all passing delusion. As in a dream, she had the curi-
ous double existence of actor and spectator at once ;
she being in spirit, somewhere apart from the sledge,
saw herself as she lay apparently at ease under the bear
robe ; she saw the u])per edge of the fur rise and fall
with the movement of her breath ; she saw the folds
of delicate azure swathed about her head and shoulders ;
she saw her own face, and marvelled at its beauty and
sweetness in comparison with the huge roughness of
nature and the uncouth roughness of Jiumanity in all
that place. She saw the man standing almost like a
statue behind her. He was dressed in old and ragged
furs ; the long smooth fur of raccoon was his cap, his
coat the ancient hide of a buffalo, legs and feet were
encased in moccasin and bound with thongs of the
same. An untidy dress it was, hardly clean. The

: !

. , ' I

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

man witliin it liad a fine liaiiglity bearing, and the face
tliat looked out from under tlie cap would have been
very handsome had it not been for the subtle mark
that vice had set upon the features. It was a face that
showed not only the ^^ower to control others, but the
power of self control, yet not for any good end. Com-
paratively young, and as it seemed now in health, he
looked a.s if he had worked through all dissipations,
and regained health only by change of vices, llis ex-
pression was not alone reckless, but bore the creeping
shadow of low brutality and cunning which the hard-
en! 1112: habits of wickedness involve. In this curious
survey, she looked also at the shaggy horse. Its
humble toilsome manner of trotting on suggested fear.
She saw that, slight as Hamilton's motion in driving
was, it was a cruel twitch which he often gave to tlie
creature's mouth. Then she looked again at the
gigantic forest, filled, as it seemed to her, with myste-
rious depths and shades in which unknow crimes
could be prolonged and then buried. The narrow
road led through its heart like a silver thread. On
and on over this road they went, the pony, tlie rude
wooden sledge carrying the recumbc.t and hapless
lady, and the man standing statue-like, looking before
him with hard-set enigmatical gaze. She seemed to
stand aside and see it.

At length they came out from under the trees ;
tl J gii'l felt that some spell was broken. She was in

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Ill

command of her mind once more, feeble, sulfering,
but still intelligent, and the light of morning was on
the hills. She heard the river rushing through the
icy grots that were its bank. She felt the sledge
upon the rocks and then upon the bridge.

The pony began to ascend the steep side of the
railway embankment. Mary thought of the next
thing she must do. When the sledge had balanced
itself upon the level of the track, she rose up, sign-
ing Hamilton to stop.

It seemed to her that he had checked the horse of
his own accord, for it had stopped without so much
as crossing the railway. Perhaps there was hesita-
tion in his mind as to which road he would take.

She slipped olf the sledge, bracing herself to the
effort of standing. She essayed to speak, but the
cold had taken so strange a hold of the vocal chords
that the lowest whisper still died upon her lips.

He came nearer, bending his head to listen,
courteously enough, but she felt that if this were
the result of her effort to speak she would make no
further effort. The intense curiosity written upon
his face appeared less respectful than hie former
hard-set expression. Yet, after all, it was a glimpse
to her of the main attitude of his mind at this
point. She saw that within it curiosity and inde-
cision held sway.

She took the handle of the whij) out of his hand,
6

i !

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

and traced upon the snow two words : " Station
where ? "

His eyes had followed her lines. When she had
finished he gave her such a look of bold piercing
inquiry as last night he had bestowed upon her be-
fore he fell back in dismay. He even tried a smile,
as if of mutual intelligence, but when she still
looked grave, innocent, pleading, something of the
former effect was produced, for he drew back dis-
concerted. He made as if to take the whip to write,
but then, to test her hearing first, he said, " You are
eight miles from Hed Keil, the nearest station.
Their is no road in this heavy snow."

She answered as if she had believed, although she
knew that he might have lied. She again wrote upon
the snow —

" I fell from the train last night. Can you stop
the night train for me ? "

" I don't know how you could have fallen from
the cars, but, since you tell me you did — " (here a
slight, as it seemed mocking, bow) " of course I be-
lieve you. As to stopping the train, it's impossible
liere — the driver would not have time to slow before
he was round the next curve. The train going west
passes after ten at night, and the other after mid-
night."

She did not believe tlmt the train could not be
stopped, but she saw that nothing out artificial ligltt

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

would serve as a signal of distress. She could not
procure this alone ; and then there was the interven-
inc: time.

"While she paused, Hamilton spoke again. What
he said was, " Last night you wore a diamond upon
your hand ; w^hy have you taken it off ? "

Now, in the night time, when she had remem-
bered she was wearing this ring, she had taken
it off, and put it in the silken purse that contained
lier money. The fact that he asked this question,
which seemed to her full of rude greed and suspi-
cion, filled her with fear that he did not believe that
she had fallen by accident, or that she was there by
reason of misfortune. She looked at the snow, firm-
packed and smooth-shaven by the plough of the
engine between the iron rails; her footsteps of last
night were hardly noticeable upon it. She showed
tliem to him, feeling helplessly that they did not
])rove much.

She realized now that during the long drive she
liad become chilled, nay, she felt that her feet and
hands might freeze as she stood. Surely this, if
nothing else, was a mortal danger. She summoned
all the strength that remained, and wrote hastily
upon the white surface at her feet —

" For God's sake take me where some good
woman lives. You will be—

. i

She was going to say "rewarded," but she re-

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

membered that that too had a hollow worldly sound
that would, as it were, tarnish the white vestment
in which she was wrapped. So she wrote — "glad
afterwards."

" Yerj sorry to disoblige you," he said, " but
there is not any of that commodity within reach,
present company always excepted ; but I'll do what
I can for you. I am going up a road here on busi-
ness, and if you stay on the sledge none of the boys
will know where you are. If you attempt to go
anywhere by yourself they will see the trail, and I
won't be answerable for the consequences. They're
a low set at this digging."

Then she felt his arm supporting her, and she
had not the power to shrink from it. With his help
che crept back upon the sledge.

caui

she

bnt

its

CHAPTEE IX.

Hamilton began giving commands to his horse in
a tone low but savage. He jerked its head brutally.
The sledge was drawn across the rails, and turned
toward the rocky and tree-clad side of the notch.
There was, it was true, only one track in the snow, but
beneath the snow, which lay about seven inches in
depth, there was evidently another road with which
the horse and man were both familiar. Diverging at
right angles from the former track, they began to
ascend almost at once. Hamilton plodded by the
horse's head. It soon appeared, by the sound, that as
they climbed they approached the torrent that de-
scended the hillside, although their path had avoided
the quarry or digging at its base.

The jolting of the sledge on the rocky road
caused Mary such acute pain in head and back that
she was forced to lie still upon her place of rest;
but lipr mind was filled with a rush of new alarms.
Where, in this almost inaccessible home of the spir-
its of the forost, could he possibly be tak'ng her?

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Where the road led beneath high trees and between
enormous rocks, she could see its outline running on
in front, constantly rising ; then it was lost to sight
hj turning. It required in her the utmost effort of
faith in the sanity of the man who was driving to be-
lieve that there could be any shelter towards which
they were now going; yet if he were not mad he
must have chosen this difficult path because of some
such shelter.

Of one thing she was now convinced, that her
best chance of life lay in crouching under the cover
he had provided and accepting what shelter he was
about to offer. Shelter she must have till night
came. Giddy and shivering and in acute pain, she
lay back, only able to keep her eyes open and list-
lessly note the trees and the snow-covered rocks
as they crept past them ; and now and then her
glance rested upon glimpses of the torrent as it
leaped, above and beneath, among vast palaces of
icicles.

She became conscious at last that some ameliorat-
ing influence was making impression upon her and
upon the locality around. She did not know at first
what it was, but she felt more hopeful ; the whole
scene was less cold and dreary. The waterfall, when
she saw it, so dazzled her aching eyes that she must
turn away ; then she knew that they had met the
sunrise upon the hill.

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

Shortly after this she began to perceive that the
snow around was not unbroken, that other paths had
been trodden here and there. She heard the sound
of an axe chopping and she gathered all her faculties
together in hope, raising herself to a sitting posture,
looking and listening.

A very old man — who had been felling trees —
came and stood at the side of the sledge. lie might
easily have been a spirit of the mountain or of the
forest ; old and bowed and unkempt he looked, and
yet withal very strong and sinewy. He wore a red
shirt — or, it seemed, several red shirts — above his
buckskin trousers. He stood and looked at the
visitors with clear, healthy blue eyes from under
bushy eyebrows.

Almost at once another old man appeared, younger
perhaps by ten years and of a different type of man-
hood, but still old, long-bearded, long-haired, and
dressed much in the same way as his fellow. He,
too, came and stood and looked.

Hamilton stopped the sledge. Standing before
the two old men, he looked like the very personifica-
tion of the strength and force of manhood in its
prime. Around them stood giant fir trees ; logs lay
on the white ground. The air was full of the sound
of the stream falling.

" I am going on up to Wilson's." This was what
Hamilton said.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

The older man looked at Mary. At last one of
tliem said slowly —

" What d'you want there ? "

They both continued to look at Mary. Hamilton
said :

" I want the shacks you're living in. You can
turn into the other." It seemed from his voice as if
he were granting a permission.

The old man who had first come in sight now
hazarded a question —

" Where'd you get the loddy ? "

The answer came as if to utter it with emphasis
was a relief to Hamilton. " Blest if I know."

There came what might have been a smile in this
old man's bright blue eyes, from which the lower eye-
lids fell with a slight enlarging droop, as is often the
case in age. There was no sign of the smile in the
long bushy hair that covered his mouth ; he only said,
in clear high tones —

" Then I'll be bound yer don't know, Mr. Hamil-
ton."

Hamilton expressed no interest in this criticism
of his character. He spoke with hard command in
his voice —

*' See here, the lady's in my care. She's ill ; I'm
going to take her up to Wilson's to get well. At
least, she'll have the sun on her there, instead of the
infernal shadow half the day. Kow listen ! The

THE MADONNA OP A DAY..

boys up at my place don't know where the lady is,
and I don't want them to know. D'you under-
stand ? "

" Amen," replied the blue-eyed old man glibly, in
the same high clear tone. The clearness of his tone
seemed in some way related to the clearness of his
blue eyes.

Both men seemed, in their aged way, to take the
stand of artists in regard to life, for although they
looked with steady interest at the man and girl, espe-
cially at the latter, they did not appear to form any
opinion as to what ought or ought not to be done
with her. There was no hint of any moral obligation,
of any possibility of the passions of indignation or
praise, in their aged faces. The girl, looking at them
with the quickness of fevered vision, perceived that
appeal was useless. Even if they had had the power
to take her from Hamilton's custody, it did not appear
to her that they would trouble themselves to supply
her needs or to save her life. She began to perceive
now that what she required of other human beings
was not only that they should not molest her, but
tliat they should bestir themselves to save her life.
These old men would not do this. Perhaps Hamilton
would.

With the jerk which the sledge made when it be-
gan to move forward, her head fell agun upon the
pillow. Again the road wound up the southern end

THE MADOXNA OF A DAY.

of tho hill ; again she watched the ice-bound rocks and
Btill undulations of the snow with aching eyes. Con-
cerning the place whither she was going all she knew
was that Hamilton had said there was no woman
there ; her longing to see the face of some common-
place worthy woman was so great that she would have
exchanged all her worldly wealth for the privilege.

She thought a little about herself, the self who had
always been business-like, quick of resource, able to
arrange and command, to bend men and circumstances
to her will. She had a sense almost of imbecility in
being in a position where her usual resources were, as
it were, a minus quantity, for any display of lively
understanding would only sharpen this man's wits and
harden his heart.

For about half an hour longer she was drawn slow-
ly up the mountain-side in the brilliant sunshine.
There was only a gigantic fir tree here and there to
cast its shadow. At length they came out upon the
side of a small plain ; from this opening the mountains
to the east were seen. They went on skirting the edge
of the small plateau, and came where the sound of the
torrent was very loud ; just above them the water
leaped from a ledge of snow and ice, and fell upon a
cone of ice far below. Close by this leap of the water
stood three small log huts. She saw against the clear
blue of the sky that there was smoke rising from one
chimney. She looked around and saw the snow trod-

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

den. She understood that this was the home of the
two old men. It was like a wild strange dream.

She lifted her head restlessly from her pillow ; now
she laid it back ; what use was there in lifting it ?

With Hamilton there was not a moment's inactiv-
ity. He threw his whole weight against the door of
the best hut, and having cast it open, he went to an-
other and opened that likewise. From this he reap-
peared with a large armful of wood cut small, and en-
tered the first door. She saw him come out again
and knock the snow from standing piles of logs broken
into smaller and larger sizes. Great armfuls of these
he also carried into the hut. He was making a large
fire for her.

She rose, tottering with weakness and cold, and
made her way through the door. Tlie place was one
long-shaped room with a door and two windows.
Tliere was little furniture ; the chimney was built of
rough stones, making a large open fireplace at one
end.

In front of this Hamilton dragged a huge sack of
straw which had evidently been a bed. She was
thankful to see that he covered it with the bearskins
which had already covered her. He brought in her
pillows and blanket. He said he supposed she could
take care of herself, and left her, shutting the door.

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CHAPTER X.

Mary grew warm, basking beside the liberal fire.
There was no longer doubt about her illness ; the pains
in back, limbs, and head, and, above all, in her throat,
were acute ; her fever was high. She wondered how
long she was doomed to remain in this shelter. She
tossed, aching, and thought of the night trains, realiz-
ing that she was powerless to reach the railway. With-
out Hamilton's help the attempt would surely be
futile ; even with his help the exposure promised death
more surely than any other result.

Hamilton came in again, and brought her some-
thing to eat. He went about the room, taking the per-
sonal possessions of the old men out to one of the other
huts. He left her such things as were necessary. One
of the windows was in the far end of the hut opposite
the fire ; from this he took out the frame bodily, cast-
ing such rubbish as he found apparently into the very
foam of the waterfall, for at the moment the roar was
loud. On the whole, he left her room in pretty good
order, aired and warm.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

If tlie sun rose early upon this southern slope of
the hill, it also set early. The windows of the room
in which she lay were only semi-transparent, because
of dirt and frost ; yet even through them, in her sen-
sitive state, she was aware when the shadow of the
higher portion of the hill crept over the clearing.
She thought that it might be about three in the after-
noon ; at dusk she looked out and saw that light snow
was falling. She heard the old men return from their
work, and after that Hamilton's foot came again to
her door.

She listened breathless. It seemed that he too
listened for a few moments ; then he knocked, gently
enough.

In his left arm was a pile of logs cut for the fire ;
with his right hand he lifted a dish which he had set
down for a moment upon the threshold. When he
had put the latter beside her upon the floor, he made
up the fire very carefully, putting upon it what
seemed to her an enormous quantity of fuel, but dis-
posing the ashes of the former fuel in a careful man-
ner round the back and sides of the pile by way, as it
seemed, of keeping it from burning too quickly. She
watched him as a child watches the maid build its nur-
sery fire ; it was a relief to her nerves to have some-
thing to watch.

Wlien ready to go, he turned to her for the first
time; his face and voice had the same constrained

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

enigmatical expression which he had used to her in
the morning when his attempts at familiarity had
failed.

" Is there anything else ? " he asked.

He gave her a somewhat soiled bit of paper and a
fihori pencil. She wrote —

" Please try to stop one of the trains, and tell the
guard to let my friends know."

"Very sorry" — there was little of excuse in his
voice — " but in that matter it is impossible to oblige

you

His next action was so singular that she was filled
with a sudden dread. He took a knife out of his
pocket, and gently, even respectfully, moving the
folds of her blue veil until he found the outer edge
of it, he deliberately cut a piece several inches in
length across the whole width.

He had come into the room without a hat on ; it
was the first time she had seen him without a hat ; it
struck her now that it was almost like seeing a new
person, although the character written in the face re-
mained unchanged. His hair was longer than it is
the habit of men to wear hair in civilized regions ; it
was 80 abundant round his forehead that it made her
think involuntarily what a handsome boy he must
have been in those early days when a child is just be-
ginning to look manly and the mother still allows the
curls to gro^7. She felt a sensation of sorrow for

rev

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morn
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and,
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been
was gr

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

that mother, whoever she might have been, for the
son, although at this moment his action was gentle,
had long since ceased to be gentle at heart.

It was her condition of fever which caused this
reverie to work itself through her brain ; it probably
passed in the flash of a moment as dreams do, but it
seemed to her a long time that he was sawing through
the veil's end, which he had gathered together and
was holding stretched out between two fingers. She
was exceedingly frightened.

It must have been very early in the evening that
the men seemed to retire for the night; almost as
soon as it became dark she ceased to hear their voices
or any movement. Previous to that she had heard
some slight sounds, even when they were within the
other huts and the doors were shut. She perceived
that her fire was expected to last until morning — that
she was to receive no further attention. In the
morning she must, of course, either leave that place
or find some means of communicating with her
friends, but in the meantime there were full twelve
hours in which to gather strength.

By the light of the fire she now lifted the cover
of the basin which Hamilton had placed beside her,
and, upon examination, discovered it to contain a
palatable preparation of apples, which had apparently
been dried and then cooked with water. The fruit
was grateful to her.

1^1

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rsfWdi

ijl

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

■ M

■'If'

After that she supposed that she must have fallen
into a heavy sleep, for she was conscious that some
hours had elapsed without much restlessness when
she became aware that there were quiet footsteps and
low voices to be heard outside.

It was not morning ; she did not believe that it
was past midnight. She listened, filled with anxiety,
supposing that whoever had arrived at this out-of-the-
way place would soon make known their presence by
knocking or calling. She had an idea of some arri-
val, gathered probably from the sound of horses' feet
and sledge-runners recognized more or less distinctly
among the subdued movements made by men. For
one long minute she strained her sense of hearing.
Unable to endure suspense, she rose and crept with
silent steps to the near window, keeping well to
the side lest her figure should be seen against the
firelight.

She saw the forms of three men, a horse and a
sledge ; it seemed to her just such a horse and sledge
as she had travelled with in the morning. A wild
hope filled her mind that it was some party of friends
or railway oflScials searching for her ; for a moment
in her hope she put out her hand to tap on the win-
dow; then fear restrained her. What immediately
astonished her was that the party which she supposed
just to have alighted from the conveyance now
stepped upon it and drove away. There was no

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

jingling to the horse's harness, as there always had
been with any other sledge which she had seen driven
in Canada, and, that being absent, the horse and
sledge made almost no sound as they moved. The
men were silent ; they drove oflF by the edge of the
small plateau. She could not see far; there was
light, dry snow falling through the air.

Was this lonely place haunted? Was this a
vision of spectres which she had seen, which she
could still see, moving in the glimmering night ?

Then the meaning flashed upon her. The men
were the two old men who lived in this place and
Hamilton. They had removed the noisy part of the
harness ; they had gone away and left her in this
horribly lonely place ; they had gone by stealth, so
that she might not know of their going.

She sprang to the door, and with all the strength
of fierce impulse tried to raise the latch or to break it
open. The door did not even shake mucL under her
strongest attempt; certainly no noise of her effort
could have resounded across the plain to the reced-
ing sJsdge. She became convinced that the latch of
the door had been fastened upon the outside.

CHAPTEK XI.

Suffering now from acuter pains brought on by
her sudden action, she went back to the bed, having
just enough care for lier self-preservation to wrap
herself in its coverings. For some reason it appeared
to her a more awful thing to be entirely alone in
this remote trio of human habitations among the
white glimmering hills than it had been to be entire-
ly alone without shelter on track or road the preced-
ing night. Her illness had done much to weaken her
nerve. For a while she kept incessant watch upon
all the dark corners of the room, and lay absolutely
still, as if the slightest rustle might irritate some un-
known enemy into action.

After a few minutes of this intense watching of
the room, she became aware of something which she
had not perceived before. This was that all tlie
light in the room was not produced by the glow and
flicker of the fire ; some of it came from the small
window in the opposite gable, and this light was of a
paler colour than the firelight, yet it was not white,

:i:U',^ ,ff

Ota

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

like the beams of moon or star. She was the more
sure that it was really there, and no invention of her
fancy, because she frequently saw quiveringc across
the pallid glow from the window which did not cor-
respond to any flickering of the fire.

It gradually became to her a necessity to rise again
and creep to this further window. She could not make
herself believe that the light that came through it
was the light of any fire ; but if there was such fire, it
behoved her to examine it as far as possible. All fears
came trooping to paint pictures upon the sensitive
screen that hangs before the eye of the mind.

When she had tottered across the half-darkened
room, and approached the further window, it was
neither the fire of deliberate incendiary nor the ap-
proaching torches of warlike Indians which she saw.
At first, mind and eyes confused by a sight entirely
strange, she could hardly tell what she saw.

The hut was upon the extreme edge of the plateau,
and this window looked down into the gully of the
waterfall. She had known that this waterfall was near
from its continuous sound; now she saw it leaping
apparently from a rock which rose behind the hut on
to the first ledge of the gully some fifty feet below,
leaping, a white wild formless thing of spray and foam,
into a wonderful tunnel built in a solid arch of ice, but
adorned with ornament above ornament of delicate
icicles.

R'j;n

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

The very sides of the gully, huge rocks, bending
reeds of brambles and shrubs, grotesque forms of tree
roots, all covered with ice and snow, were so coated
and bedizened by the frozen spray that they too
seemed a part of the wonderful architecture of this
ornamental bridge of ice under which the stream de-
scended.

Now, the strange thing was, that whereas when she
had looked out of the front window of the hut her eyes
had been just able to distinguish objects in the glim-
mering night, looking down upon the waterfall she
could see the detail of its wonderful beauty clearly.
She could see, too, the small snowllakes falling, melt-
ing in the water.

The light by which she saw it all was the same as
that which had quivered upon her window. For per-
haps a full minute the lonely girl had looked down
upon the scene ; now she shrank back into the nearest
dark corner, trembling, if not with fear, with sudden
excitement that was akin to fear. The light proceeded
from a certain graceful moving form of light which
seemed to stand upon the other side of the stream,
near the base of the waterfall. The form had the
height of a human figure, and it either had the same
contour, or the eye easily supplied the faint outline of
Buch figure veiled, as it seemed, in a falling veil of

light.

Mary stepped out again from the shadow of her

iliiiB

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

'J
lie

casement. She had forgotten her pain ; excit'^ment
had cancelled weakness. While this unearthly seem-
ing light fell upon her face, she felt that some spirit
within this form was looking at her. The figure of
light not only fulfilled her highest ideal of what a spir-
itual appearance might he, but transcended it.

The form standing in the same place moved ; it
seemed to Mary that it beckoned her, for the veil of
light moved as above arms that beckoned. She did not
know what to think : thought being in abeyance, emo-
tion was in abeyance too.

As she waited she heard a great sound — a distant
rushing that echoed louder and louder. It was the
passing of one of the trains. She was spellbound,
startled to hear the vibration of so many echoes ; then
the sound died. She stood alone, more lonesome than
hefore, above the frost-bound gully.

A new thought and sensation came to her; the
thought and sensation were of pure joy in the beauty
of what she saw, apart from any relation of the sight
to her own welfare. In her childhood she had read
the story of Undine. A wave of thought bearing the
image and the sentiments of the story surged now into
her mind ; with it she had again the power of a little
child to enter into the region in which self-interest is
not.

For a moment or two she saw in the wild and
hoary waterfall the Spirit of the Mountain, strong,

THE MADOXNA OP A DAY.

incapable of exh.iustion, yet with a heart that had its
own longings for love and friendliness. The water-
fall became a person to her ; the form of light, too,
was a person — the Spirit of Spring, perhaps, come
from warm and sunshiny glades in distant lands to
spend the night in companionship with this her
ancient lover. These two rejoiced, as it seemed, in
the presence of the other without need of embrace
or outward sign of converse, unless it was when the
Spirit of Light moved her veiled arms, and the
waterfall in her quivering beam seemed to leap the
faster.

Mary felt strongly the poetical influence of this
interpretation of the scene. There was another
thought in her mind also, in direct opposition to the
lirst — the thought of impatient scorn of dreaming,
the cid bono of restless worldliness which, in the
years that had passed since the childish days in which
she had rejoiced over Undine, had become habitual
to her ; yet for the time the other influence, the
reflex of the fresh mental impulses of her childhood,
was the stronger. With the awakening of the more
spiritual part of her mind had begun a new conten-
tion of the higher and lower within her. Now, and in
the days that followed, the two tendencies sometimes
unconsciously mingled and sometimes consciously
fought. She was not again simply a worldly woman.

She knew now that if she cared for her life at all.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

she must lie still in all the warmth which she could
gather from her bed. As she lay there, the thing
that remained most strongly with her was a com-
forting pleasure in thinking over and over again the
mere beauty of the scene she had last gazed at. It
was, in sort, a physical salvation that she had some-
thing in her which responded to that appeal which
nature is always making to the human mind to find
rest in the contemplation of her loveliness. Those
things within her which she least recognized and least
valued had risen and saved her from prolonged
torture of just anxiety.

Our help comes not from without, but wells up
from the depth within us. Beneath that depth what
is there ? It was said by one of old that underneath
the soul is tLe hand of God.

CHAPTER XII.

When the morning light was clear upon the win-
dow-pane, the sick girl heard again the sounds of
travellers near the house. She rose again, to be able
to see out of the front window.

The sight she saw had something of the appear-
ance of a small triumphal procession. First came the
oldest man, he of the clear blue eyes, leading a cow ;
the other old man and Hamilton came one behind the
other, each mounted on a pony, and each carrying
part of the carcase of an ox. It was now apparent
that this exped-tion of night and darkness had been
for purposes of forage. It was a great relief for her
to see that it had this peaceful meaning — peaceful if
stealthy.

It was a source of real comfort to her that these
men had come back. Uncouth, wicked men as they
appeared to be, still, in the hope that they intended to
guard her, she felt herself safer than when wholly un-
protected. With the relaxation of this relief, utter
exhaustion of nerve and muscle came upon her. It

100

I-yr

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

101

was with the feeblest degree of interest that she
watched Hamilton enter and make up the fire. He
brought warm milk to her; he even put his hand
under her head and caused her to drink it. He went
out as before, shutting the door, and she remained
alone until the short day began again to wane. By
this time she began to suspect that he had mixed
some anti-febrine draught with the milk, for she had
been able to lie more quiet, and she experienced some
relief from pain and fever. She was even able to
rise and arrange her bed afresh.

Listless, weak as she was the whole day, she still
grew more and more satisfied that she had been
placed in such circumstances as gave her a fair
chance of comfortable recovery.

Hamilton again paid his evening visit. He made
the fire as before with great and small logs, heaped
with ashes ; he put milk and cooked apples beside
her. He did not again attempt to help her drink the
milk ; instead, he touched her wrist lightly for a mo-
ment with his middle finger. So far it seemed that
he would do no more for her than was necessary;
his manner expressed a certain discomfort in her
presence.

It is always the unexpected that happens. She
was not aware that she had recovered a partial use of
her voice ; she had not dreamed of using it without
deliberate forethought ; yet now, when she saw him

iiHii

102

THE MADONNA OP .) DAY.

turn towards the door, she thought of the possibility
that he and the other men might again leave the
place, and of the unexplained luminous spectre whose
light had shone upon the end window. Fear and
curiosity suddenly produced in her whispered ques-
tions. She could not do more than whisper.

" Are you all going away again to-night ? "

He turned instantly and faced her. She did not
like to see that he grew visibly more at ease in her
presence. He did not answer at once ; he seemed to
be considering her in the new character of a lady
capable of speech.

" Who are you ? " he asked.

She felt the imperious right of weakness, and also
of her ladyhood, to have her own question answered
and leave his until to-morrow if she chose ; then she
remembered her role of dignified simplicity in which
capriciousness had no part.

He seemed to grow more and more pleased with
the sentiment she had expressed. The natural man
in him expanded perceptibly. He sat down on a box.

"I've taken a good deal of trouble to hide you
here and keep you safe," he explained. "Stray
women wandering round loose, with diamond rings
about them, are not the sort of cattle that are easiest
to take care of in a place like this. As I'm not under
the impression that you fell from the sky, I suppose
that you must have got off the train in some way ;

tiji^:.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

103

Ith
lU

the question that is naturally in my mind is, wh 3ther
you've got your wits or not, and if you have, what
you did it for."

lie stopped as abruptly as he had begun. The
words, " hide you here," gave her information, and
of a sort she did not like. She was hidden, then ; no
help could come to her from a community which did
not know that she was here. She looked up at him
with quiet eyes ; within she was reading his face, and
saying to herself that there was no feminine art that
he did not know by heart and despise, except just
this one which she used — that of appearing perfectly
good.

" My name is Mary Howard," she whispered.

He made a slight bow, which had some semblance
of respect, except that with it there was a certain
cynical raising of the eyebrows ; it suggested that he,
too, was on the defensive, determined not to be duped.

" !Now, look here," he said again ; " we shall get
on much better if you tell me just the plain unvar-
nished truth. You look to me as if you had your
wits. I took the trouble yesterday to follow the
track you made before along the line ; it looked un-
commonly as if you had jumped from the train.
Now, if you wanted to put an end to your pretty
little self — some girls do, you know, when they get
into a mess — just give me the tip, and your friends
and lovers can weep for a year without ever knowing

•Sill

104

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

that you are alive. I suppose that's the sort of fuss
a woman wants to make wlien she tries to do for
herself."

Ilis new familiarity was intolerable. She did
what she could to reproduce in him his former con-
straint.

She raised her head in piteous indignation.

" I fell,'^ she whispered. " I must have walked
in my sleep off the train."

The wish being father to the thought, he favoured
his first theory more.

" It's not just a very likely story ; it will be bet-
ter for you in the end if you tell me the truth.
Come, now, I can sympathize with you ; I've often
thought that a header into the tomb would be a
pleasant variety. You thought you'd put an end to
yourself — now, didn't you ? But the snow was soft,
and it didn't hurt much, and it sounds more artistic
to say you fell."

" I did not try to kill myself ; it would be wrong."
She threw all the earnestness she could into the low
whisper.

"Wrong?" — a cynical lift of the brows — "why
* wrong?"

" It says so in the Bible."

It was curious that, as she tried to raise herself
in his eyes, she involuntarily fell back upon associ-
ations which she herself really despised.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

105

lie drew his under lip partly under the upper
teeth. She saw his teeth as he did it ; they were
dark and decayed. He looked at her keenly ; it
seemed that he did not know how to adapt himself
to an element which he could not estimate.

" As soon as I am well I must go to the nearest
station," she whispered. "I must telegraph. The
missionaries I was travelling with will be searching
the country."

" Missionaries ? " he said.

" I was travelling, you know, from China. A
missionary was taking care of me."

"What is a missionary?" he asked, pretending
that the word was unknown to him.

She also pretended to mistake his precise mean-
ing. " Mr. Burland belongs to the China Inland
Mission, you know."

" 'Pon my word, no, I don't know." In a mo-
ment he added, " You've talked erough for to-night.
Tm the doctor. You'll be having consumption if
you don't look after yourself."

The excitement of talking made her rash. She
judged that to blend what she had just said into
the trustfulness she assumed would be no loss
to her.

" Don't leave the place with no one to take care
of me," she pleaded. ■'^ I was so frightened when I
heard you all go away last night."

'Ill

4% h

106

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

He gave lier another searching look before he
answered.

" YouVe got sharp ears," he said, '' but you're
quite right ; we had to go to get meat and miik for
you to live on, little lady. Wc had to take them at
night, in case the fellows should get to know where
you are ; but — I won't go away again if you like me
to take care of you."

" You are so good ! When I go away I will give
you the ring to pay for the milk and meat. It was
my mother's, and she is dead ; but I know that she
would like me to give it to you, because you have
saved me."

At last for one moment she saw something in his
face which she felt to be a genuine emotion of self-
distrust and compunction ; it was lost in that hard
look of self-suppression which he now resumed.

"What is that beautiful white thing that shines
on my window ? " she asked.

" It is the angel of your mother come to take care
of you," he said. There was the coldest sarcasm
under the words, but it seemed that he had not meant
that that should be apparent to her.

He left her, shutting the door for the night. She
lay wondering whether his sarcasm had been directed
at her hapless plight or at his own perplexity.

CIIAPTEU XIII.

ics

ire
Ism

Ited

She passed her wakeful hours in considering what
was new to her in the knowledge of her situation,
and also what was still unexplained.

When darkness jame she saw the strange light
again upon the further window. She could not resist
crossing the room just once to see if the sight had in
any way changed since the previous night. It had
not changed. The luminous form, like a veiled half-
transparent human figure, still stood upon the rock at
the foot of the waterfall. In its light the water
leaped and foamed, and all the million icicles upon
snow-covered rock, root and shrub, glistened, not
with a bright sparkling, rather with a pearly glow.

Mary went back to bed with the vision in her
mind as before. It formed the only pleasant subject
for her mind's eye ; it's strangeness had no longer
any fears for her. To-night she heard the train pass
with the mighty rush of echoes, not once, but twice.
It was maddening to hear the sound and be cut off
from the world. She considered Hamilton's sarcastic

107

.~-k3

'w-

108

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

explanation of tlie curious natural plienomonon. She
augured little good from the fact that he could jest
about a dead mother, whose mention a moment be-
fore had moved him to some compunction. Her
mother was not dead, but that did not matter to her
much. The first dim stirring of her soul within her
had not as yet changed her habits of practical thought
in the slightest. She only felt some anxiety as to
how she could make out a more particular tale of her
immediate past, and the present condition of her
friends, consistent with her boasted connection with
missionaries. All that came to her in the way of ob-
jection to this lying was the wish it had not been
necessary, and a half-formed wonder as to how it was
that she came persistently to deem it her source of
safety.

The next day, wheix Hamilton came for his morn-
ing work at the fire, she told him she felt better, and
asked him when he would be able to take her to the
nearest station. She was up, sitting feebly upon a
chair.

Hamilton, who was at the time kneeling be-
fore the fireplace arranging the logs, turned his
head and stared at her, as his habit was, before he
spoke.

" You couldn't have got off the train during this
enow anywhere along the line where it is so bad get-
ting at a station ; there's no road but the line, and

ag£

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

109

open bridges on it either way, so tlrat a horse can't
go ovoi' them."

"Couldn't any one walk along the line and tell
them I am here ? "

" I am a good walker," he f^aid.. " and have a
steady head for bridges ; if I took about eight hours
to go and come, I might manage it."

" Will you go ? "

" ^o, and for that you may thank me ; if those
boys down at the digging, or the heathens on the
other side of the river, got wind that I was on the
track and you were here, where would you and your
diamond ring be ? " He turned his face as he finished
speaking, with a smile that was meant to appear kind.
" Where would you be then, eh ? "

She did not believe that the situation was just as
he painted it, but of this she gave no sign.

Before he went out he stood and looked at her
again. He spoke in a somewhat injured and self-
vaunting tone.

" I've taken a whole lot of pains to conceal your

whereabouts, and set those fellows on the wrong

track. I'm loitering here in a beastly dull place just

in order to knock any fellow down who might happen

to find you were here. It's all I can do at present.

You'd better lie down and get yourself well ; you're

not fit to hold your head up."

" It is very kind of you," she said. She had an
8

;

110

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

idea that good people were apt to be credulous of
good ill others.

Although she had never put to herself the prop-
osition abstractly, as a matter of practical experience
she was aware that charity does not easily suppose
itself impugned, and does not vaunt itself. Charity,
then, was clearly not the source of Hamilton's course
of action towards her.

One thing that Hamilton said appeared to be
true enough, and that was that there was
nothing for her to do at present but to gain
strength as quickly as she could. That day and the
night passed with no change in her situation, except
that she did gather strength.

The next morning, about eleven o'clock, she
was roused by hearing the sound of a voice that she
had not heard for some days, accosting Hamilton.
The advent of any new-comer must produce in her
instant excitement, both of fear and hope. Without
delay she crept from her bed and approached, not the
window, but the crack of the door. She had heard
the voice before ; in a moment she recognized it ; it
was the voice of the small deformed cynical man
whom she had seen with the other men upon the first
night.

The dwarf, she believed, inherited none of those
traditions of honour to which to some extent
she trusted in her dealings with Hamilton. His

((

TIIH MADONNA OP A DAY.

Ill

accent was distinctly vul<^ar ; his voice was bland
and disagreeable; his lisp again struck her as
more horrible, in the wild untrammelled life he
was leading, than any other defect of speech could
have been.

" Ilow'th Beauty ? Come to pay a call on
her."

Hamilton's reply was a suggestion that the dwarf
should pay a call on the infernal regions instead. It
was delivered with a sharpness that proved they had
not hitherto been in league.

"Thankth awfully. Pwefer calling on Beauty
inthtead. Where' th the dwawing-woom ? "

She took one glance from her window, and re-
treated. Hamilton, in his ragged fur coat and moc-
casin leggings, was lounging in the bright sunshine
near the door of her hut. He seemed to have come
near that door at the other's approach; the small
deformed man was paying his visit witli every out-
ward appearance of social urbanity. They were both
smoking pipes. The snow was sparkling on all sides ;
the sun was shining very brightly upon the peaceful
rural scene. She felt, in a wild impatience, that it
was an evil law which caused the sun to shine so
brightly upon the unjust.

'' See here," said Hamilton ; " she's ill : it's diph-
theria."

" Oh no ; " the cynic spoke with cheerful assur-

112

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

anco. " Beauty liatli not got diplithowia. Poor
Beauty ! Tell utli a better tale than that."

Hamilton swore at him in round terms. " Think
I don't know diphtheria?" lie asked. "Call it
what you like when a woman's got a throat all
covered with white spots run together, and lips that
are black with fever — it doesn't matter much what
name you give it ; it's pretty dangerous dealing with
diseased cattle — that's all I know."

The dwarf gave a low whistle ; his serene belief
that Hamilton was lying appeared to be disturbed.

As for the girl leaning against the door inside,
her heart quaked under this graphic description of
her illness. Was it true ? She had no looking-glass ;
she could not at the moment remember any fact that
would contradict his statement. She began to feel
more ill out of fear at the fateful name given to her
disease.

" Not fatal, I thuppothe ? " said the dwarf.

" If she doesn't have a relapse, I think she'll go
on well enough. Whether I'll catch the devil of a
disease and go to the dogs with it or not, I can't just
at this present moment inform you, although I have
no doubt you'd like to know."

" Been kithing her ? " asked the cynic, in a tone
of commiseration.

Hamilton's voice had been gradually assuming a
less hostile tone, and it appeared now that he de-

wLi
dwi
tiiel
tw,

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

113

'eel

tone
de-

termined, either to take the other into his confidence,
or to appear to do so.

" Look here, what's doing at the Fhnne ? How
came you here ? "

" The wortht of it ith there'th nothing doing, ath
you might know ; devilith lot of thnow, devilith cold,
and me come thix thouthand milth to live with old
f wiend I Beauty dethendth one evening in the thape
of an anthel, vanitheth quite in good thtyle qui anthel,
old f wiend ith known to wun aftah ; thome dayth aftah
ith found living in wuwal thecluthion with Beauty."

" How did the poor devils down there take the
vanishing business ? "

" According to the thpethial biath of ewry devil ;
main point ith, they think you've made off to "West
Kiel, or, at Beauty'th inthtigathion, been taken bodily
into the thky or the lower wegionth."

" And the cow and the beef ? "

" Ha I you've got them, have you ? Wewy clever,
muth thay I We've all been down and whacked the
pig-tailed heathen for the depwedathion."

Hamilton laughed — it was a cruel laugh ; then he
sneered, " You did a lot of the fighting."

" Only held the thmalleth Johnny by hith pig-tail,
while the Yankee whacked him. You thee," said the
dwarf, " they made out you'd gone th' other way, for
they found bith of Beauty'th veil for a mile along the
twack. No twail either way, becauth thnow wath fall-

H ' ■

114

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

iug : but bitli of Beautj'tli veil on wocks and twees —
pwetty devitlie that ! Had doubtli in my mind about
it. Didn't make any wemark ; thonglit I'd not wound
on a thum w^hen I'd come thix thoutliand miltli to
thee him."

There was a silence between the men ; they were
both smoking. Tlie girl continued to lean against the
inside of the door. It came to her as a curioue recol-
lection, that in any other situation than her present
miserable one she would not have judged these two
men hardly ; she would have thought them rather
valiant and pleasant knaves. In her modern width of
thought she had always supposed herself to despise
the mind which, from some petty personal circum-
stance, should have its eyes closed to an all-round, well-
proportioned view of men and things. It appeared to
her that, to be consistent, she ought to despise herself
now for the rage of indignation that lay under hard
control within her.

The dwarf was the first to speak. " Well, what'th
the game ? Got the athe of twumpth ; but the athc
of twumpth ithn't the whole game."

Here Hamilton broke in suddenly ; he seemed to
rise and go nearer the dwarf. His voice assumed a
certain genuineness of tone, a business-like quality ; it
seemed as if he had suddenly resolved on actually tak-
ing counsel. She could not hear all the words ; under
ordinary circumstances she would not have heard any,

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

115

but the whole force of her nature was turned at that
moment into a determination to hear. She hardly
breathed ; she held her ear close against the crack of
the door.

" I tell you there's money behind her. Diamonds
like that don't grow on bushes."

The dwarf did not take much pains to subdue his
vo^Je. It was never loud, but it had a penetrating
quality. " Wath going to obtherve that Beauty mutlit
have fwiends.'^

" Naturally, I suppose she has. Most women with
pretty eyes and diamond rings have an infernal lot of

friends. Says they're missionaries. I'll be if

they are all missionaries, and she with a ring like that.
Whoever they are, it's they who keep the tin. It's
not likely she has it in her pocket " — with sarcasm.

The dwarf gave a prolonged note of exclamation,
indicative of the sentiment that the matter was more
complicated than he l«ad supposed.

"Can't you stop acting the idiot, and use your
wits ? "

" Pothe atli hewo ; win Beauty'th heart."

" I'm not such a fool as to trust to her heart. Any
way, I don't know that she's the sort that would
catch on."

The dwarf appeared to enjoy this last con-
fession —

" Pwoor devil ! twied to make love even though

til
'IS ?■ I

116

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Beauty had diphtliewia. Beauty ditlidainful. Poor
devil wepulthed."

" I have not tried. She's pious."

" Poor Beauty ! dif thwetic and piouth ! Poor
devil, got hith handth full."

" Hang the diphtheria ! She's no more got diph-
theria than I have." There was a pause. Hamilton
kicked the snow; then he burst out — "'Twas you
suggested the priest at the Crees. I sent the old man
to him."

"Ith poor piouth Beauty a thimpleton?" The
cynic evidently thought that this question was ap-
posite.

" She's got more wits than will be at all con-
venient, but I'll be hanged if " He spoke now

so fast and incoherently, and with such irritation in
his whole voice and manner, that, to her dismay, she
found that she could understand nothing more ex-
cept a word or two at the conclusion — " friends turn
up a straight tale to tell — couldn't have done more
than we've done."

The cynic was not made incoherent by any gust
of emotion.

" The very thoul of honour ! " he said.

(«»

CHAPTER Xiy.

They were gone. Mary stood alone. She had
retreated a few paces from the door. She looked
about the log hut with desperate glance ; she
clenched her hands, she stamped her foot, feeling
the absolute need for some expression for the pas-
sion of anger which had arisen, yet she felt that the
very expression which she made use of mocked her,
because she had so often used the same outward
signs to express small half -simulated tempests of
wrath which bore no relation of likeness to the mis-
ery of deep anger which was now forced upon her.

She felt that if she could have murdered these
two men she would have done it gladly. She ex-
perienced a positive feeling of physical nausea at
the remembrance of the way in which they had
spoken about her, and yet she could not cut them off
in her mind by drawing any clear line between them
and other men, whose scheming about her, and
familiarity towards her, gave her good reason to
suppose that they had talked of her lightly enough in

117

118 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

her absence. These men were much worse, but they
were not wholly different, and, curiously enough, it
was this undefined likeness which lent the bitterest
irritation to her wounded spirit.

The men who were her friends in varying degrees
were good-hearted and clever ; she was not the least
sorry that she had associated with them in frank
unaffected comradeship. At this moment she longed
for their companionship and protection as a home-
sick child longs for home. Her way with them had
been much better than the old-fashioned ways of
stilted conventionality, more wholesome for her,
more wholesome for them; she was sure of that.
She had everywhere found many friends among
men, and she was quite conscious that they had
most of them wanted to make love to her, and also
that it was her money, and the free way in which
she spent it, that had formed a large part of the
attraction. She found no fault with this at all; it
was natural, and what is natural is right ; but now di

that she was confronted with a hideous caricature h

of what she approved, she felt such anger that no
revenge at that moment would have seemed to her
excessive. She had no means of revenge; she had
not even means of escape.

An hour afterwards the two men came to see
her. After a warning knock, Hamilton looked in.

" Well enough to see visitors ? " he asked cheer-

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

110

it
lOW

are

her

had

see

ier-

fnlly. " Got a friend here would like to make yonr
acquaintance."

" Has he come from some civilized place ? " she
asked. " Will he take back a message from me to
my friends ? "

*' It's hard of yon to be so down on us, to want to
get off so quick again, Miss Howard." As Hamilton
said this he gave her what was meant to be a sweet
smile.

When the dwarf came in he echoed the same
sentiment.

" My f wiend Hamilton ith a thowough gentleman,
Mith Howard, a thowough gentleman, I athure you."

They both sat down at some distance from her.
The result of their counsel was this amicable call.
Inwardly she laughed; if the laughter was bitter it
was at least of genuine amusement. After three days
of solitude the excitement of this encounter was a
strong stimulant ; she was too weak for it ; it was like
drinking wine when faint for lack of food ; it went to
her head. It was true that she bent her energies to
walk steadily over any pitfall, but she did not walk
so steadily as she would have done without the in-
toxicant.

" It's hard upon us you should always be thinking
about going. You are not well enough to yet, and,
upon my word, it's hard on us to think of losing the
honour of looking after you" — this was Hamilton.

120

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

"Besides, 'pon my soul and honour, there isn't any
way for you to get out till the snow goes. There's a
hridge on the line that you couldn't keep your head
to walk over — about two hundred feet of perpendicu-
lar space between each cross log ; and as to the road,
since this last snowstorm there are drifts six feet
deep, 'pon my honour. Awfully sorry to keep you
here against your will, but it's what you might call
Providence that is doing it."

After all, she had no reason to know tliat it was
not true.

He went on a little more hastily, as if anxious to
avert the grief she might naturally feel at his state-
ment so far.

" It may seem hard upon you, but really we'll be
stunningly good to you. It's not half a bad life. Miss
Howard ; 'pon my word, it isn't. You've not a no-
tion, for instance, what a line climate it is. You'd be
quite queen of us all here if you could think of stay-
ing with us now." The " now " was used as a tenta-
tive word, not as an adverb of time.

"Beauty and talent and piety would thcore twe-
mendouthly in a plathe like thith."

She was getting so angry she could not contain
herself. She stood up and faced them both with
flashing eyes, and lips drawn tense with nervous ex-
citement.

" How dare you ? Do you call yourselves gentle-

TQE MADONNA OF A DAY.

121

men ? Do jou call yourselves men ? Do you mean
to say that if one of you were in need of help you
couldn't stop the train or get to the station ? Do one
of those things for me now, and I will believe that
you are trying to help me."

Her voice quivered and failed. She felt instinc-
tively that the calm and outwardly kind remonstrance
which they both addressed to her was the worst indi-
cation of the condition of their wills towards her.
Her wrath was an expected thing, therefore it did not
move them ; it was part of their plan.

They continued to go on explaining to her, in
rough, terse phrases, what a jovial life they led, and
what a high position any beautiful and pious woman
who should join them in it would have. With
phrases gathered from such literature as happened to
have found its way into their memories, they drew a
picture of what she might become, which was a queer
mixture of a local divinity and a popular barmaid.
She had time to school herself ; anger would not
serve her. She had not yet tried genial management.

She forgot her artificial dignity of demeanor.

" Look here ; is there any one here who will stop
the train for me to-night for money, and how much
will he ask ? I will give my word that he shall have
what he asks as soon as I get to my *'riends."

They told her, with protestations, that if it was
possible to stop the train they would not ask for

122

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

money, but they hoped she would consider the pain it
would give them to part with her. This pain was
supposed to be principally suffered by Hamilton.
The dwarf depicted his friend's sufferings in such a
case quite graphically. He said that blight and mil-
dew would fall upon his heart.

The interview lasted some time longer. She be-
came aware that the men, while they were improving
their time by arguing with her, were in a restless
state, as if waiting for something to happen. This,
considering the surroundings of the place, seemed so
very strange, that it aroused fresh apprehension in
her mind.

At length there was a sound as of some one travel-
ling up the hill. No sooner had it fallen upon their
ears than the two men, so oddly dissimilar in size and
shape, began to bow themselves out of the room with
as much haste as was consistent with their notion of
what would be agreeable to her.

She let them go without a word ; she was filled
with a wonder to know what it might all mean.

Some horses were certainly coming up the wind-
ing road of the gully. The sound of voices shouting
to announce an arrival was heard. Mary stood at the
window.

It flashed across her mind now, for the first time,
that since the previous morning she had not seen the
blue-eyed old man. The gait with which Hamilton

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

123

and the dwarf walked away suggested that the arrival
was expected by them, and, if so, they must assuredly
have sent some one out as messenger.

Kiding over the edge of the plain from the moun-
tain road a small cavalcade appeared — three persons on
horseback — and two of them kept up a strange for-
eign-sounding succession of shouts or singing, as if it
was their habitual manner of announcing their exist-
ence to the surrounding air.

About halfway along the road which skirted the
edge of the plateau the two men who were walking
met the three who were riding. They all came on to-
gether.

When they came nearer she perceived that the
blue-eyed old man was one of the riders. At this her
heart sank very much. The strangers, then, had been
sent for by Hamilton ; they were not her friends.

The man who rode first at the head of the party
wore long hair falling under his fur cap ; he also wore
a long black cloak. She could not think, at first, what
this long black garment reminded her of, for it was
certainly very different from anything else she had
seen in these wilds. The man who rode immediately
behind him was dressed more after the manner of the
other men, but with a distinctly less civilized sugges-
tion about his clothes.

They all came nearer, came into what might be
called the yard in front of the three huts. When the

124

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

large black-coated man ^ot down from his pony, she
saw that his clothes, ill-fitting and grotesque in their
adaptation to the needs of the place and season, still
bore enough evidence of clerical cut to mark the man
as a priest. She remembered suddenly that twice in
the conversations of Hamilton and the cynic she had
overheard a reference to a certain " Father " who lived
at a settlement of Cree Indians. The reference at
both times had had a certain relation to herself.

She perceived that both Hamilton and the dwarf
paid a bland deferential attention to the priest. They
appeared to be making the most courteous offers of
rest and refreshment; they were quite assiduous in
their attention to him, the pony, and a bundle he had
brought upon it which appeared to be his luggage.
The priest, who took a sincere interest in the disposal
of his luggage, looked up once at her window before
he went into the huts. He looked as if he expected
her to make some sign of greeting, but, after he had
contemplated her immobile face for a moment, he took
off his hat. His head was bald ; it had a dome-like
top, and the brow was narrow. His face, although it
indicated good living, was not sensuous. The other
stranger was a tall, lithe, sinewy man, with a dark
complexion; probably he was, in part at least, an
Indian.

When they had all entered the other hut she con-
tinued to stand looking out. Excitement was giving

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

125

hor back her strength. Beyond the foreground of the
plateau was a gulf of air ; beyond that, the wonderful
slopes and peaks of the sunlit mountains. The high
mountain, in which in some strange way she liad
learnt to feel a sense of pioperty, was in sight, lower-
ing against the blue. It was the first time since uoing
imprisoned in this room that she had dared to stand
at the window in daylight long enough to drink in any
thought or sentiment from the landscape. Now she
felt again that there was something in this spectacle
which drew her, as it were, from transient things to
some eternal point of vantage from which the things
of life took on a proportion and rolation other than
that in which she had been accustomed to view them.
It was not that the things of life seemed less impor-
tant as seen from the heights of the sublime — not less,
but more important, infinitely more ; but, the stress,
the importance, adhered to those of them which before
had appeared insignificant, and the things which be-
fore had seemed to her important dwindled into noth-
ingness. Mary turned away restlessly ; she felt that
she had been entrapped for a second time into thoughts
which she had least need of just then. She needed
all her practical faculties, all her earthly sense ; in the
rest of her life she might have leisure for spiritual
consideration, but not now.

For an hour or more she had perceived a very

savoury smell of cocking from the men's hut, and
9

126

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

slic now supposed that some sort of a feast was going
forward.

Sick with the odour of a meal which she knew to
be the sign and seal of some paction inimical to her-
self, she walked restlessly from the window through
which the mountain cast its spell, to the further win-
dow through which, so far, she had only stood to gaze
at night. She looked down into the gully fraught
with its fairy palace of delicate device. The water-
fall in the daylight was tinged with grey, because of
the floating ice particles ; the ethereal flame could
just be seen, and no more, as the ghost of a new
moon can just be seen in the daylight. She could see
now down the line of the gully to the valley of the
notch below. It encouraged her that in the daylight
she could see the huts and the sluice troughs of the
digging clearly ; they did not seem so very far away
in the clear air. She could even see men moving
about them.

This window looked upon the blind wall of the
hut where the men were eating, upon the gully of
the stream and the valley. She wondered if it might
not at this moment be wisest to swing herself down
upon the beautiful but cruelly sharp masses of icicles,
and, creeping from one icy rock to another, gain the
road, and fly again to the men in the notch below for
protection. Nothing but the fearful danger to life
and limb, the certain laceration of hands and feet

som

slie

woai

aJan

seric

TlIK MADONNA OF A DAY.

127

the

nglit
lown
licles,
the
for
life
feet

wliich such a descent would involve, kept her from
this instant flight. The thought of the homago
which the rough men in those distant huts had paid
her was so welcome, so inexpressihly sweet and wel-
come to her heart after the rude familiarities of tho
morning, that she would gladly go through much
misery to seek it.

In her idleness she fell again into transient reflec-
tion. Tho superstition of these men, because it had
saved her, and she believed it might again save her,
bad a beauty for her. She began to search for the
cause of this beauty. It did not accrue to the super-
stition solely on account of her own petty individual
convenience ; she felt that to look at anything in that
liijht showed a lack of culture. For some moments
her thoughts pursued hard after the ideal lying be-
hind the belief.

She turned restlessly away from that window
also ; she had an odd feeling that the mountain, its
sublime purity and its power to wield a spell, had
come round to that western side within her view

agam.

It seemed that after the men's meal had come
some form of siesta, for an hour passed and still
she heard no further sound. She was idle, she was
weary, and she grew more and more reasonably
alarmed for herself, having time to realize that some
serious purpose must be entertained with regard to her.

128

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

She now took the packet of valuables from her
bosom to consider its contents and conceal them more
carefully. The purse of money and the diamond
had been loosely rolled with such treasures as she had
thrust into her dress in the sleeping-car, supposing
them to be safer than in her berth. The chief of
these was a silver cigarette-case. She handled it for
a moment as if it were a curiosity, it seemed so long
since she had last seen it. Then she found herself
looking hastily through the windows to make sure
that no one was spying upon her. She wanted to
smoke a cigarette ; it seemed exactly what she wanted
most in this terrible hour of waiting. Instead of
doing so, she wrapped up the case ir^ost carefully,
and concealed it in the inmost recesses of her gown,
not even risking it with the other things which she
thought might be demanded from her. It was two
hours before she heard the door of the other hut
open and the men emerge. They did not loiter;
they came straight toward her door. "When they saw
her at the window they all took off their hats. This
studied politeness seemed like the opening of some
new relationship with her.

CHAPTEE XY.

Hamilton came in for a minute by himself, leav-
ing the others standing outside. She faced him with
a full keen look. He looked at her also, but as if he
made an effort and would rather have looked away.

" I am glad to be able to tell you that we have
been able to fetch a friend for you. He's a mission-
ary, and has come a long way to consult what will be
best to do for you."

" I feel mucli better to-day," she replied. " I
shall be quite strong enough to-morrow morning to
ride or drive to Ked Keil." She wished to show
that she saw no need for the priest or for the dis-
cussion.

When he had shifted his feet he said, " We
tliought that you would rather have the priest here.
Hq can hear all that we say and all that you say, you
know. You'll feel more confidence in him, naturally,
than in us rough fellows. I've tried, of course, to be
kind to you as far as I could, but you naturally don't
put much faith in me." He gave a slight deprecat-

ing smile.

129

130 THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

The evident fact that behind his words another
purpose was engrossing his mind caused her in a flash
to divine that j)urpose. Her blood ran slow and cold.
This man, on whose notions of honour she had so far
depended, had brought the priest to try and force a
marriage upon her. Then, with the rushing reaction t^
of her pulses, she knew the necessity of concealing
her terror. She knew, too, what she must do — the
only course she could take which might save her.

She took his last words simply as if he meant
them. She answered with an accent of surprise.

" Why do you think I do not trust you ? I have
trusted you entirely ; you have been so kind. I trust
you more than I do the priest or the little man."
She supposed that her fate hung absolutely upon the
motion of this man's will ; only to see him among
other men was to know that his will would be law.
Therefore she repeated, " It is you I trust." She
knew that these words were more unwelcome to him
than any other she could have used.

Unwelcome, yet he pretended that they were very I ^^
welcome. I ^^''

"I am deucedly glad that you trust me." He
looked at her, as it seemed, with gratitude and pro-
tective kindliness in his hard face. " It's better for
you that the priest should be here. You don't know
much of the world." He said this with evident be-
lief in his tone.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

131

|ery

)ro-
for

lOW

be-

A hysterical laugh swelled her bosom. He was
the first man who for a good many years had told
her that she did not know the world, she who prided
herself on knowing it.

To her surprise, Hamilton, with the stiff polite-
ness of an old minuet-dancer, just took her hand and
respectfully led her to a seat at one side of the room.
The courtesy was exaggerated. The act was signifi-
cant. It was the beginning of a ceremony.

A minute more and Hamilton had brought in the
other men. They each bowed to her with outward
deference, each in his own way staring at her with
furtive curiosity. Hamilton found seats for the
priest and the dwarf ; he placed them on the other
side of the room, so that there remained a wide space
between the girl and her visitors. The blue-eyed
old man and the half-breed stood behind the priest ;
the other old man did not come in. Hamilton stood
at one end of the group nearer to Mary.

The priest cleared his throat. He had been re-
garding her all the time from under his shaggy eye-
brows. He seemed to expect that his smallest word
would be of vast importance.

" I hope that mademoiselle finds herself a leetle
better."

He was evidently French, but she did not take
the trouble to offer to speak French to him. She
thanked him, explaining concisely that she had felt

.ji

132 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

extremely ill, but tliat to-morrow she would be stroug
enough to go as far as the nearest station of the
railway.

The priest cleared his throat again. Except for
that he sat immobile.

" Ah, I regret to tell you that there is for that t
two difficulties." He lookeu at her with an air of
commiseration, and then he looked indolently at
Hamilton, as if he did not wish to take the trouble of
explaining further.

In a minute Hamilton began to talk; he had
evidently conned his speech.

" Father Paul says there are difficulties in the
way of your leaving this place at the present time.
You see there's been what's commonly called a big
row between the fellows at the Flume and the
heathen Johnnies that you honoured with a visit the
day before yesterday. There's a deuced lot of bad
blood between them, and the only thing they've got
clear in all their stupid heads is that you are at the
bottom of it ; so they've all taken to taking your
name in vain, and falling upon one another, tooth
and nail, because they can't all agree. Some at the
Flume say that you are an angel." He made her a
low bow with what was meant to be an admiring
smile. " That, of course, being the fact, it's odd that
any one should give the lie to it; but the wicked
Chinamen say you are a witch, and that you spirited

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

133

big

tlie

the
ad

got

the

our

otli

the

r a

ing

hat

ked

ited

away a live cow and a dead ox — strange fancy that,
isn't it ? Some of our men, again, give you a char-
acter by no means so exalted as either of those. It's
got about among them all that you've got a big dia-
mond — one that would make the fortune of half a
dozen men — which of course is not true ; the stone
you have is not worth very much."

His voice dropped here. He stopped as if there
was nothing more to say at the moment, no doubt to
give her time to betray what emotion she felt.

She had risen, and stood up before them, clasp-
ing and unclasping her hands, not with an appearance
of weakness but of pent-up strength.

" I do not understand," she said. " What more
have you to tell ? "

Hamilton put on an appearance of kindly embar-
rassment.

" My f wiend Hamilton," said the dwarf, *' wanth
the moth beautiful of young ladieth to give him
leave to knock thothe fellowth down who thay
that the moth beautiful of young ladieth ithn't an
angel." .

" Mademoiselle will comprehend that there is no
law — that the snow is deep." The words came in a
deep slow voice from the immobile priest.

Hamilton began again in the same kindly explana-
tory way ; he was evidently making an immense
effort to use language not profane.

134

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

" The Chinamen have said it already. They have
sworn that when you visited them you were my wife.
They have been assaulted and beaten by our men
because of the theft of the cow and the beef. They
would not dare to touch my wife, or to speak against
her ; but they told the priest as he came past — they
said that if you were not my wife they would have
revenge. * Revenge,' I think, is the best term for
what they threatened; if I told you their threats,
your hair would turn grey — it would be a pity to
turn such pretty hair grey."

"The colour of Beauty'th hair muth be pwe-
therved," murmured the dwarf.

" Mademoiselle will understand that to each place
is its own code of honour. A man's wife she is
what you call sacree / but a woman who is no man's
wife, ah, it is for the holy saints to help her ! "

She h ked about upon them with a sweeping
glance. It was growing dusk ; the twilight and the
firelight mingled upon the log walls, upon the rude
wooden furniture, upon the straw bed on which she
had tossed during the three previous days, upon the
I little company of uncouth men arrayed before her.
There was light enough to see their faces clearly
enough — the thin sardonic face of the dwarf filled
with suffering and bitterness, the dome-like head and
faratical face of the priest, the blue eyes of the old
man, the brown passive features of the Indian, and

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

135

the
lude
slie
the

ler.

irly
llled

and
old

and

Hamilton standing beside them like one of Nature's
princes, and haughty, clever as one of the fallen
angels.

She let them see the swelh'ng of her bosom, the
strength of the passion which she could keep under
control.

" Gentleman, I do not understand you. What is
this talk about a wife ? It is nothing to me that a
few poor Chinamen made a silly mistake. I do not
understand you at all."

" Take a seat," said Hamilton. " Don't be fright-
ened. We'll lay our lives upon it that we'll protect
you, Miss Howard."

She moved further away from them, standing, as
it were, at bay.

" I've kept you snug and safe so far," said Hamil-
ton. "You see, I was sharp enough to hide you
here before they were on your track. D'you know
what's kept you safe these three days? Nothing
more nor less than that this place gets the name of
being a trifle ghostly. You see, there's coal some-
where half a mile underneath, and the gas escapes
through that fissure by the stream, where you see the
light. It makes a vile smell if it's not kept burning ;
and those born asses below think that the flame is not
quite what it should be. So this is the last place
they'd look for us ; but, of course, they're not such
idiots as to keep off much longer."

136

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

" I am not afraid," she said ; " at least, I am not
afraid of any one but the Chinese. There is not one
of the men whom I saw the other night who would
hurt an innocent defenceless girl who appeals to him
for protection." She spoke out fearlessly ; she had
drawn herself up to her full height.

"I wish it were as you think," said Hamilton,
gloomily. li a looked down at his feet.

The dwarf sighed audibly.

The priest, speaking his periodical remarks, re-
minded her of an automaton that was wound up.

"Mademoiselle will see that these gentlemen, so
good to have saved her life, could not tell a lie."

" What then ? " she asked solemnly. *' If it is as
you say, what then ? "

" I told you that those low devils at the Flume
had two minds," said Hamilton. " But look you,
one's as bad as the other for you ; for the grovelling
creatures who are looking for you to pray to you,
when they find you're a mere woman, will turn all the
more nasty for that pleasant little surprise ; and as to
the others" He shrugged his shoulders, studi-
ously looking away as if not wishing to offend her.

" My fwiend Hamilton hath ektherted himthelf,
hath defended Beauty'th hut at the withk of hith life
until our old fwiend here could bwing the pwietht.
Old fwiend hath climbed the mountainth and
bought the pwietht fwom another valley. Conduct

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

137

fon,
the
s to
udi-

•

lelf,
life

}tht.
and

Iduct

of both motht hewoic. Beauty, by cunning and
cauwage ith pwetherved tho far. It now only
wemainth for Beauty to thave hertlielf. Hard on
Beauty, no doubt, but nethethawy."

The priest now gave a wooden smile, as if for that,
too, he had been wound up. lie addressed the
wooden smile directly to her ; she felt that an image
had leered upon her.

" Mademoiselle will see that this gentleman has
ze desire to make laughter. To have so good and so
handsome a husband will be pleasurable to mademoi-
selle."

She let her accents tremble through the room,
broken and frightened.

" I do not understand. Oh ! what is it you are
trying to say to me ? "

It seemed that Hamilton had done with his efforts
at extreme politeness.

" Well, just this ; these fellows may come here to-
night, or they may come to-morrow morning. It may
be the heathen devils, or it may be the miners, that
come first. Whichever it is, there's more of them
than of us, and they'll kick us out without saying, ' If
you please.' You see, they wouldn't allow that any of
us had any right to stand between you and them, as
things are now. You've got to get married ; you'v^e
got to marry one of us. That's a thing that's under-
stood hereabout. A man has a right to a wife if he

138

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

chooses to feed her and keep her. Public opinion backs
him up in it, you see. Not one of them will dare to
touch you and your diamond when the priest has liad
out his book. It may be hard on you, as my friend
here remarks ; but it's the only way of saving your-
self, and the quicker it's done the better."

Finding the need of some fierce action at the end
of this speech, he strode across to the fireplace and
gave the logs a kick. The whole room was brightly
illuminated by the blaze.

Mary had retreated to the wall. She stood before
them speechless, her hands clasped upon her breast,
staring with frightened eyes.

" My f wiend Hamilton generwotlily givth Beauty
her choith," said the dwarf.

The priest spoke. " Mademoiselle will see that
this gentleman, so good and kind, is very modest. He
offers to mademoiselle most nobly his name and pro-
tection ; yet he would not make much of this kind-
ness. He says to mademoiselle, ^Choose.' Ah, he
is teemid ! "

It seemed that, though all the plot had turned upon
it, Hamilton could not refrain from a short harsh
laugh at this representation of himself. When he had
given vent to it he turned to Mary.

" In short, my dear, so far from sacrificing myself,
I shall take great pleasure in annexing you. But I
don't expect that to stand for a row of pins in your

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

139

ipon

larsli

had

eyes. The point is, that you have no choice. These
villains may come on us any hour, and we're none of
us going to die like dogs fighting for you, when we
can settle the whole matter by a simple little cere-
mony." He had said this standing looking into her
face, very much as he had peered into it the first night.
Now, without gaining any satisfaction from her white
downcast features, he turned suddenly. "Bring on
your book," he said to the priest.

rself,

iut I

jyour

CHAPTER XVI.

Mary saw that the men were beginning to form
themselves in a group near her. She was willing to
appear for the moment speechless with consternation,
and she was in very truth speechless, not knowing
how to control her voice and manner for the role
which art taught her to play. There was a minute's
dispute among them ; it gave her respite.

Her mind surveyed like a flash the surrounding
scenery as she had seen it that afternoon — the glory
of the ice mountains, the snow-muffled solitude of
the hill on which she was, the apparent peace of the
valley. She could not tell how far these men had
lied to her ; that they had lied was evident ; it was a
plot, but truth might lie behind. She herself had
overheard the Chinaman call her this man's wife,
and she had heard the dwarf tell of the battle that
ensued upon Hamilton's robbery. Yet her heart
threw in its lot eagerly with the unknown danger.
It was the known peril which she must fight.

Her lack of high perception made it impossible

140

"Al

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

141

lory

the

Iliad

las a
had
rife,
that

lieart
iger.

for her to act the part she desired perfectly, but she
acted well enough for her audience. She found the
pose of the head which she desired. She stood be-
fore them shrinking yet calm, with swelling bosom,
but with steadfast mien. She lifted her controversy
with them into a region above the mere question of
whether she would or would not do their bidding.

" Gentlemen, I am willing to believe that you
mean kindly to me. I am thankful for the protec-
tion you have afforded me so far. If you think that
my remaining here longer will bring danger upon
you, T will go away now, alone. I am not afraid,
however great the dangers may be. God will pro-
tect me. This marriage which you suggest" — her
voice choked her for a moment, the very word " mar-
riage" was so odious — "is quite impossible. It
would be no marriage. I have been taught to be-
lieve that a marriage must be solemnized in church,
and by a priest of my own religion. While I claim
protection from Heaven I cannot do what is wrong."

The men had looked at her, and listened.

" You know, my dear young lady," said Hamilton,
" that is very pretty talk ; but it won't save you, and
it won't save us from being kicked on your account
if we go on trying to take care of you as matters
stand."

She overacted her part, but they did not see it.

"Ah, do not speak to me that way," she said. "I
IQ

142

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

am so young ; I am so weak ; I am so defenceless.
Do you think that any good will ever come to any of
you again if you force me to do what I know to be
wrong ? "

She had a sense that all the men except Hamilton
and the priest were now beginning to enjoy them-
selves. They had expected a dramatic scene, and so
far had been disappointed. Hamilton and the priest,
then, were the only responsible agents, for in them
irritation at the delay was visible.

"Wemarked before, it comtli hawd on Beauty,"
said the dwarf.

Hamilton jostled him with a muttered exe-
cration.

" It's all very well " — he spoke in tones of injury
— " to ask us not to speak to you that way ; but when
a man's got his leg smashed it has to be cut off to
save his life. If he cries out that it's cruel, that
doesn't make it cruel."

" Mademoiselle will see that that which I can do
to marry is according to the law of this country.
Afterwards, monsieur will no doubt take madame to
another place, where madame can again be married
according to her own Church, if she will. Voild!
what more can mademoiselle desire."

For a moment her brain seemed to whirl ; the
sense of danger was subservient to the sense of the
ludicrous. She did not betray it ; it was replaced in

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

143

do
itry.
le to

a moment by a torrent of anger wliicli she could not
control ; her real self came forward :

"Cowards! Yillains!" she cried, her ejes glar-
ing upon them, her little figure braced against the
wall. " You have set a plot, thinking to dupe an
ignorant woman. You may kill me here as I stand — •
I am in your power ; but you wdll never succeed in
anything except in killing me, or letting me go free."

She had again the misery of seeing that this out-
burst seemed to relieve them ; it was what they ex-
pected. The nervous tension in the room w^as less.

" I dare say," said Hamilton, " that if you've any-
thing more of that sort to say you'd better sa}^ it. It
will do you good, my dear, and you'll feel better."

" Quite like the thort of thingth they thay in
bookth."

*' If mademoiselle would weep," said the priest,
" mademoiselle would recover herself. She would
tlien see the injustice she does to a gentleman so good
and kind."

She could have gnashed at them with her pretty
teeth; she could have shaken her small fist in their
faces. She did not do so, because she had the quick-
ness to see the futility of her wrath. There was a
pause, they waiting for those methods for relieving
liei^self which they had commended to her attention,
slie rousing in herself all the self-control w^hich she
could muster.

144:

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

Again remembering her acting, slie folded her
hands, and looked at them with white, quivering
face. ,

" Gentlemen, I was angry. Perhaps I had reason,
but it was childlike and foolish. I am very much
frightened of you. I am afraid you are not honest ;
if you are, have the kindness to let me go away
alone. I will find my way to some one who will pro-
tect me. I am not afraid to go out alone, because I
am not afraid to die ; whether I live or die God will
protect me."

She spoke the words with pathos and earnestness,
but exactly as she would have spoken her part in any
play that contained such words. Of their meaning
with regard to herself just then she cared nothing.

The men were evidently annoyed at the change.

"Look here," said Hamilton, "that sort of rot
doesn't go for anything, you know ; it's just a ques-
tion of how long you keep us standing here waiting."

" I do not believe that you can intend to hurt
me," she said. "I am alone and, as you say, an
ignorant girl. I am sure " — she looked at Hamilton
— " yes, I am sure you only wish to protect me ; but
the way that you have chosen I cannot possibly ac-
cept. It would not be right for me, knowing what I
do about the sacredness of marriage. I cannot *do
what is wrong."

" Here's the priest come all the way over the

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

145

rot

lilton

ly ^^"

Ihat I
)t *clo

mountain to tell you that it's riglit." liairiilton
kicked his foot impatiently.

She looked at the priest, and shook her head ; she
looked at Hamilton.

" I cannot trust the priest as much as I trust you.
lie is not a priest of my Church, and perhaps he
has lived so long among the Indians that he has
forgotten what would be right for a Christian girl
to do."

There was something in the last phrase which
seemed to put them at a loss for a word. She
went on —

" You are an Englishman ; you have had a
mother ; you have perhaps had sisters. If I were a
sister of yours, would you urge me to such a mar-

riage

«"

"A man doesn't usually hanker after marrying
his own sister," Hamilton laughed coarsely, evading
her question with the jest.

The little cackle of disagreeable laughter that w^ent
through the group stimulated her into the true
artistic passion of the actress. She was, for the hour,
the character which she assumed. If excitement
made her too voluble, if she slipped sometimes by
use of stock phrases into false sentiment, she was
still in the main inspired by such great thoughts
as were familiar to her by reason of Christian inheri-
tance.

14G

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

*' See ! " — she held out small, soft hands — " see
how weak I am I You can quite easily murder me,
and liide my body where no one in the world will
ever find it, and steal from me the jewel that I carry,
the only thing that I possess which is of any worth.
But when you have done it, what then ? There is a
God in heaven. Ah ! / would have no wish that
vengeance should come upon you because of this
crime ; but God has said that He will protect the
innocent and punish the guilty. Look you, gentle-
men, if God does not do it just as we think He
might, it is because He does it more perfectly than
we can conceive. He may let you kill me ; but
what then ? It would only be to give me the joy of
lieaven more quickly, and to give you more quickly
the pain of hell ; for do you think He would let you
forget it ? The memory of my death would come to
you in your dreams ; you would think you saw my
dead body walking beside you in your waking hours ;
you would drink hard to drown the thought, and in
that way you would soon kill yourselves. Think,
then, that the dying hour must come to each of you !
Think of that hour now ! If you commit this crime,
there is not one of you will be innocent ; and, when
you die, it will stand between you and any hope of
heaven."

She had spoken gently, almost tenderly, but she
had spoken fast. They had let her speak ; they had

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

irs ;

ehe
had

listened, and, although thej affected to deride, she
had the first intoxicating sip of ihe actor's power.

" We're not going to murder you " — Hamilton
gave another short laugh — " we're trying to save you
from being murdered, my dear."

The priest shook his book, shook his head, shook
himself. " Qu'elle est Mte,^^ he muttered between his
teeth ; then aloud, " Mais^ mademoiselle "

'• Beauty makth a mithtake," put in the dwarf.
" My fwiend Hamilton ith pothing ath hewo, not atli
murdewer. Thlight mithtake that ; eathily wectified."

She fixed large mournful eyes full upon those of
the dwarf. The torrent of her swift sad words was
addressed to him before he could interrupt.

"You, because you have suffered yourself, you
think to spend your life making sport of the suffer-
ings of others ! Does it make your own pain less to
make mine more ? • May God forgive you ! Yet sure-
ly in your heart there is something better. You have
a greater chance to be good than the rest of us, be-
cause, with your pain and weakness, if yc were kind
and good it would stand for so much in God's sight ;
but for you to be spiteful and cruel is so easy that it
won't count for much any way. Heaven, I suppose,
will forgive your littleness of mind, and I forgive you,
I only pity you. Ah, there are good women in the
world who, if you would only let them, would fill
your life with all the comforts that love could devise.

148

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

You have been a wicked man, and so no good woman
has had the cliance to care for you, but for the sake of
the love you might have had, have pity upon me now.
Do not add to my misery by your gibes."

The dwarf had stared back at her, but the expres-
sion of his eyes had changed from sardonic rudencF"^
to fascinated surprise. He began to murmur toward
the end that " Beauty made a mithtake." The words
were mechanical ; he began, as it seemed, to dwell
upon some new notion concerning her.

Hamilton had listened and watched with interest.

" I am very glad that you can set him down," he
said. " You'll be queen of us all here, my dear, when
you can find time to let the priest read his service ;
we'll let you preach to us all day. Think what a mis-
sionary you will be ! "

She turned upon him, not fiercely, but solemnly.

" I will never marry you, because it w^ould be
wrong. I have be en taught that it is wicked to marry
for convenience. God does not ask me to do what is
wrong. I will not stay in this place, even with the
hope of doing you good. I am too young and ignor-
ant and foolish to know how to teach you. You think
that you could keep me here alive and against my will.
You could not, for God would certainly save me to
that extent ; He would give me courage to die. You
are not an ignorant man ; you know what the power of
faith is; you know that weak women and children

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

149

nly.

frry

t is

the

nor-

link

ill.'
e to
lYou
r of
ren

have endured all sorts of martyrdom rather than dis-
obey God. Look you ; I, a weak, defenceless girl,
have this faith, and it is stronger than your will and
stronger than your physical strength."

For the first time there was irresolution in his keen
eye. That which she had said had appealed to his
reason. He was aware that there was such a thing in
the world as fanaticism \/hich no man could master ;
besides that, the exaltation of her mood repelled him
where a more common form of opposition would have
only stimulated him to proceed.

The priest showed himself least sensitive to this big
word " God," which she was using as her weapon.

" Mademoiselle will call to mind that monsieur
only desires by this leetle service which I can say to
gain the right to defend madame. Yoild! made-
moiselle no doubt works off the pain of it by these
strong words, but at any moment the enemies of
mademoiselle may arrive. Yoild ! "

She turned upon the priest now. "When you
came first to be missionary here, were you a good
man ? Is it by living this wild life, finding that you
must make some compromise with the ignorance about
you, that you have fallen so low as this ? Or did you
come here because you had such a twisted mind that
honest men in towns would not respect you ? It is a
terrible thing to be calling yourself God's priest, and
lending yourself a tool to men who do not obey God.

150

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Have you not enough to answer for in the day of
judgment without adding this crime against me to
the list of your sins ? "

A sh'ght uneasy laugh went round among the
other men. In the midst of the discomfort which
was growing upon them, it was evidently satisfaction
to hear her rail at the priest.

She answered the laugh as if it had been a taunt
to herself. She let her voice rise high in pathos,
and grow strong *tli passionate purpose. "I am
sorry for you all. I thought that you were brave,
but I find that you are only brave enough to come all
together, and put to shame one weak defenceless girl.
You are not, according to your own account, brave
enough to face her enemies for her, and you have
not courage enough to deny yourselves the pleasure
of trying to dupe her ignorance and triumph over
her weakness. Yet, listen now, even though you
have shown yourselves to be entirely cruel and cow-
ardly, I believe that you have done it because you
live such hard lives that you have never thought how
much better it would be to be noble and good. You
have all got it in you to be kind and brave if you
will ; I ask you for the sake of a poor girl, who has
nothing in her heart towards you but kindness, to
think if the thing you are trying to do is worth
selling your souls for. But whether you persist, or
whether you give up this attempt, I for my part will

tlK

al)(
it

md
Hal
of
talk

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

151

3f
to

LCll

ion

bos,
am
rave,
le all
girl,
brave
have
asure
over
L you
I cow-
,e you
t how
You
if you
10 has
ess, to
worth
sist, or
rt will

do only what I know to be right ; I am weak, but
God is not weak. If you save me now, you will put
yourselves on God's side, and He will save you in
some time of trouble : if you will not save me, I will
never, never consent to what you ask of me ; and
sometime God will repay to you far greater misery
for this than you can inflict upon me, for all that you
can do to me is take my life here and let me go more
quickly to another world, which is better than this."
She looked round upon them all with flashing eyes.
'' I will never yield to you. God's strength is with
nie. I will 7iever yield."

Hamilton gave that jerk of knee and foot which
more than once before he had given in angry irrita-
tion. He muttered angrily to the other men. "I'm

not such a d — d ass as " (She lost some of his

angry words.) " Preaching and praying idiot ! "
With that he gave his leg another impatient jerk,
and, turning, strode toward the door. Half way
there, he turned back and spoke to her sneeringly.
" You needn't distress yourself, my dear, any more
a1)out us to-night; we'll leave you for a bit to think
it over."

The priest had come up beside him, and, like a
man half beside himself with snarling ill temper,
Hamilton suddenly began a low violent altercation,
of which she could only hear a few expletives. Thus
talking, they went out together, and in a few seconds,

152

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

with tlie awkwardness common to minor characters
upon the stage, the other men went out also.

The door had not shut after them, she had no
time to draw one breath of relief, when the dwarf
came into the room again and stood looking at her.

Night had wholly curtained the windows, but the
logs still blazed brightly ; only the further part of
tlie room was obscure, pulsing with the pale gas-
light from without. The dwarf stood in the full
firelight. Above his broad shoulders his thin cyn-
ical face was bent forward the better to stare at her.
The girl stood yet holding herself in the pose of
pathetic defiance; worked up with the intense ex-
citement of her acting, the mood had not yet relaxed
its dominion over her.

The dwarf looked searchingly at her for the
space of about a minute ; then he limped out again.
This time he shut the door quietly after him.

In a minute or two she heard Hamilton, while
talking noisily to his fri -^ds, come, and with loud
strokes of a hammer, drive a nail or bolt into the
fastening of the door upon the outside. She knew
that he meant to make her prison sure.

pri
ori(

CHAPTER XVII.

the

loud

lo the

knew

Mary was possessed by intense excitement. For
some time she hardly knew what she thought or
where she was.

"Words began to well up within her mind ; lier
lips formed them, but she made no sound.

" I have vanquished them ; I have done it by the
mere genius of my acting. I have been more than
an actor ; I have been the author of the piece as I
spoke it. What high-flown langua^^ } I treated them
to ! It was poetry ! If I get out of this I shall
know what my real calling in life is."

Her head swam then with vision upon vision of
her pretty little self swaying the hearts of thousands
upon the stage. This brilliant involuntary day-dream
was fitfully mixed with ejaculations concerning the
present circumstances and memories of the last hour,
which presented themselves one by c ; because she
had been too overwrought to grasp all the details at
once.

All this time she stood as they had left her, lean-

153

154

THE MADOxNNA OF A DAY.

ing back against the log wall, her breast heaving witli
excitement, alone in the firelight ; she was un-
conscious of fatigue, unconscious almost of any bodily
sensation.

Gradually her pulses beat more slowly; gradually
the whirl of thought in her brain was less swift, more
rational. In the transition she walked about the
room, at one moment imagining herself a tragedy
queen, at another wondering when would come her
next contest with her enemies. For some time she
felt secure in her recently acquired ])ower ; she could
master them always, because she had once obtained
the mastery. Then, at last, fear found place in her
heart once more. She saw herself and her surround-
ings in the light of truth, without the ghmour that
the wine of excitement gives. After that again came
depression, when her plight appeared more hopeless
than an hour before it had seemed triumphant.

The men had all gone within another hut ; now
and then she heard boisterous laughter, now and then
loud debate. She softly tried her own door ; it was,
as she had supposed, barred more strongly than ever.
She tried the window that gave upon the front ; only
four small panes of very thick glass it contained, the
cross bars strong almost as the heavy casement ; with
out an axe or some such noisy implement she could
not possibly have opened it. She went back then,
and looked down into the foaming waterfall, upon

to
tin

and
tran

0S(

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

155

now
tlien
was,
ever.

only
the

with
ould
tlien,
npon

the natural jet of burning gas, and upon tlic precipice
of jagged ice on which her liut abutted. This win-
dow she could open ; it was, in fact, used as an outlet
for ashes, rubbish, or whatever else might be cast out
into the stream ; the water swept all such refuse sheer
down under the bridge of ice it had heaped for itself
below. The girl stood leaning, looking at the w^ater,
looking at the spirit-like form of the gas flame,
tlirough the glass. Her resolution was taken ; if the
men went to sleep without disturbing her again, she
knew what she would do. She saw a new way by
which to find egress from this window ; perilous it
was, and yet more possible than descent into the gully
of ice.

The hours passed, and at last it seemed that the
men did indeed sleep. They had not built up her
fire as on previous nights ; no ashes had been put on
to quench the flames, but no fuel either. The logs
that were there still glowed brightly, but they would
not last till morning. She was glad of the light at
the time, and content that the room in the morning
hours should be cold.

She took a last look at this interior. The days
and nights which she had lived there had seemed so
great a portion of her lifetime that she felt that some
transition from youth to age had been passed therein.

The foundation of the hut, a platform of stones
loosely mortared, extended from six to ten inches be-

156

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

yoiid the log wall upon tlie outside. Climbing out of
the window, she stood upon this ledge, looking down
upon the luminous precipice of ice and water over
which she hung. It was easy so to stand while she
had one arm within the window ledge by which to
hold herself upright. She looked at the ever-moving
wall of water, at the flickering spectre of burning gas,
and, turning away lest her eyes should grow dizzy,
she started upon the short journey that might, for all
she knew, bridge for her the space between life and
death.

The end of her own hut formed an angle w^itli the
long side of the men's hut ; there was no space be-
tween them, but the jutting ledge of the foundation
continued along both walls ; her soft bedroom slip-
pers helped her feet to cling to the stones. She had
provided herself with an iron fork which she found
in the hut ; she had bent its prongs upon the hearth-
stone ; it formed what might be called a toy grap-
pling-hook, and, holding by it to the w^ooden logs, it
served to steady, although not to support, her trem-
bling steps.

In this way, not daring once to look down, she
crept along the colter wall of the hut in which the
men were sleeping. She felt herself to be indeed a
timid dependent creature while she made her slow
progress, hardly breathing with terror lest the shuf-
fling sound she made should arouse the sleepers. She

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

157

had

)und

jartli-

I trcm-

li tlie

could not hear them breathing because of the sound
of- the waterfall

It was only surmise that when she got to this next
corner the ledge on which she was walking would
continue until she could stand on level ground. Her
head swam with hope and fear before she could see
round the corner. Then she saw that it was even
better than she had believed ; the edge of the snowy
plain met her here, level and firm. With noiseless
foot she tripped to the front of the huts, and for a
moment looked at them in the grey night. She saw
the fire flickering behind the small window which for
the last three days she had called her own. She scru-
tinized the dark walls of the other huts with keenest
apprehension ; in one the men, in the other the horses,
were asleep. She thanked fate that no dog was kept
in the place, and having paid this duty of momentary
inspection and thought, she turned and sped along the
silent road.

After her awful journey between wall and preci-
pice, the road of soft snow seemed easy walking;
after her former fear, her hope now rose again to an
exhilarating pitch ; after drinking deep of the stimu-
lant of danger, she had now no sense at all of the
bodily weakness and pain that still, as a matter of
cruel fact, dogged her footsteps.

When she came to the edge of the plateau, the

road became precipitous and winding, huge rocks and
11

158

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

mfr

trees forcing it to curve this way and that, now shut-
ting her in, now giving vast sweep of sight into the
blackness of the valley of the river, or sometimes into
the shadowy snow-plains of the notch, with the sound
and dim outline of the torrent at her feet. At every
turn she looked up and caught a glimpse of the flam-
ing gas spectre. Afar and dim in the distance, it had
more than ever an unearthly look.

Before she left her fire-lit hut, she had heard a
distant moaning sound of wind in the valley. The
sound had gradually grown stronger ; all the air was
in motion. After the i-^tense calm of the previous
days, the wind in itself carried the feeling of relaxed
tension and new excitement. Now, as she sped
downward, alone among the night-dimmed moun-
tains, she felt the gale swell and increase. The firs
rocked and tossed wild arms above her ; the forest in
the valley seemed to shout like the assembled voice of
a great host in the distance. ^*Vhat was strangest was
that the wind, in the midst of this wintry scene, was
rot cold — it actually seemed warm. She wrapped
her veil more and more tightly around her, as a boat-
man furls his sail, to escape the pressure of the wind,
not for warmth.

She did not now fear pursuit, but she had an object
in using all possible haste to accomplish her journey
quickly. It was her great hope that she might suc-
ceed in stopping the train. It had been so long be-

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

159

17
m-

lad

d a

The

was

ious

axed

sped

aoun-
firs

est in

ice oi
it was
, was
lapped
boat-
wind,

object

)urney

Ibt suc-

)ng he-

fore the men slept that she had already heard the
rush of the first train of the night — that bound for
the western shore. Her hope lay now in making a
danger signal large enough to be seen by the driver
of the train from which she had fallen four nights
before. She wanted to reach the railway line in time
to choose the most favourable place for her attempt.

She felt herself to be running zigzag on the road,
almost as a ball runs when it bounds from the obsta-
cles that bar its straighter progress. The snow, not
much trodden, was still deep enough to hold her feet
firmly from sliding ; but it was not until she had de-
scended far that she noticed how much shallower and
firmer the white carpet now w^as than when last she
had touched it.

When she came to the level of the notch she
glanced about her fearfully. To her right she heard
the stream beating upon the wooden troughs of the
digging. She looked over the dim reaches of the
level, illimitable in the night : no outline broke the
whiteness of the ground and the blackness of the air.
Only one road lay trodden before her — it was that by
which Hamilton had brought her from the railway ;
but when she essayed to follow it she found to her
dismay, that it had been crossed and recrossed by
trampling feet, perhaps of the miners, perhaps of cat-
tle — she could not tell. She was fain to remember
the general direction in which she must go and run

160

THE MADONNA OF A DAY,

on. The snow was now so shallow that she felt the
ground an inch or two below its surface.

In this way she came upon the railway near to
the spur of the hill from which she had descended.

The air came in great surging waves, for long
minutes almost overwhelming her with its force and
swiftness, as a long wave of the sea overwhelms a
bather. Then there would be a lull, a moment of
peace in which she could walk steadily, and a hush
in the nearer part of the forest, while she could
hear the roar of the next surge beginning to the
westward.

She did not dare to stand upon the line ; she felt
that if she did, the wind, acquiring a little more force,
might at any moment hurl her down the steep on the
other side. She had no means of knowing how long
it would be before the train came. She still walked
with speed, seeking to find some sheltering rock, in
whose lee she might wait and arrange the torch which
she hoped to kindle.

So far the excitement of escape and the stimulant
of the wind had kept up her hopes ; now she began
to see how unfavourable this strong wind would be
for her torch. The train and the gale were travelling
in the same direction ; she must hold the torch in the
face of the wind.

Shelter was not easily obtained ; she was afraid
to leave the railway more than a few paces, lest the

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

161

mg
ind
.s a
; of
msli
ould
tlie

J felt
[orce,
n the

long
alked

[ck, in
liicli

mlant
I began
liild be
relling
m the

afraid
lest tlie

train should come. At length, where the hill rose
immediately above the line, she found a portion of
earth that sheltered her somewhat. Crouching be-
hind it she unfastened from the folds of her silken
shawl certain treasures wrapped therein ; these were,
a stick of wood, a cotton garment, an old newspaper,
and a bit of string. She proceeded to tie the paper
and the calico to the upper part of the stick. She
took out now, for the first time with a feeling of
security, the silver cigarette case. There was no one
here to challenge her for its possession. She took it
out to light one of the vestas which it held in a sepa-
rate compartment ; but it struck her with a grotesque
sense of humour that she might now comfort herself
by smoking, without any fear of unpleasant familiari-
ties following the act. The mountains, the forest, the
wind, the river, would not regard her.

She crouched for some minutes, puffing at the
cigarette in complete solitude, thinking to herself how
odd a contrast there was between her enjoyment of
this little roll of perfumed tobacco and the part which
she had played in the scene of the evening. It was
only because the men of these parts were some decades
behind the times in their notions of propriety that the
contrast between a woman smoking and a pious lady
would have been so great in their eyes ! And yet —
and yet — at the same moment with these thoughts, she
felt a certain satisfaction in the fact that the great

1C2

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

white mountain peak was, while she smoked, veiled
by darkness.

She had perfected her torch as far as she was able.
The distant ru^ of a gust of wind constantly, in its
far western beginning, deceived her into thinking that
the train was coming. In the lull again, she discovered
the deception. The hour w^as long; she marvelled
that she was not more cold. The air seemed almost
hot about her.

At last, deceived so often by the mighty wind, the
awful rush of the train was loud and comparatively
near before she knew it. She had, all through the
hour of waiting, realized most keenly that when this
moment came all her hope would depend upon the
speedy and skilful lighting of the torch. It would
have been strange if she had not fumbled with the
matches before one was alight ; her fingers were numb,
not with cold, but with excitement. Yet she was not
a woman to be helpless in such a crisis. She lit the
paper and the calico ; she sheltered them with her
shawl until they blazed. It seemed now, from the
noise, that she must be almost too late with her signal.
She started frantically out from the hillside ; the great
yellow eye of the engine had not as yet come round
the first curve to the west.

There was a distance of about twenty feet between
the railway line and the hill ; in this she stood, expect-
ing at every moment to see the train. A great surge

TOE MADONNA OF A DAY.

1G3

^reat
lound

Iween
mect-

of the wind came upon lier ; her torch, drenched in it
as in water, died out.

She dashed again behind the rock ; the ragged
edges of paper and calico were still red where they
were charred. She struck match after match, casting
them burning into the rent of the torch. The thing
was aflame. She stood once more, a little frantic
figure, torch in hand, beside the track, in the vast
solitude of night. The fiery eye of the great monster
was coming nearer, so was the great rush of the wind.
It was but a moment that the torch blazed, then it
was again extinguished.

She still w^aved it — it was all that she could do. She
cast her arms about, and screamed with all her might.
It seemed that the fiery eye was coming straight upon
her. Then the black train was rattling past with a
noise that was terrible, as if the mountains themselves
were falling. She believed that she saw a man upon
the engine swing head and shoulders out sideways and
look back at her with curiosity, if not with indecision.
Perhaps he could hardly see her in the night ; perhaps
he was accustomed to strange, half-savage figures ap-
pearing in unlooked-for places. She av the dim
lights of the passenger-cars pass bar, +"'^en she saw the
red lights at the rear. The v hole great noise and
commotion was gone ; there was nothing left but the
wind and the surrounding wilds.

She went back to the shelter where she had before

;l(;4 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

been sitting smoking. The very ground seemed much
colder, and the rock more inhospitable. She had iiot
Hope now for a companion ; Disappointment sat with
her, and, for a little while, Despair. She dropped her
face upon her small white hands. It seemed to her
that she was too small and soft a thing for Fate to
mock and use so cruelly. She determined at first that
she would hide herself, and die alone among the moun-
tains. She had an idea that she would take revenge
upon Something by so doing, the Something that had
made such cruel sport of her.

CIIAPTEE XYIIL

After a while, Mary decided that the only
course which offered any hope for her was to re-
trace her steps to the digging, and throw herself
upon the mercy of the superstitious men there. She
lacked physical strength to walk to the distant rail-
way station, and she was filled with terror at the
thought of being found alone by Hamilton's party,
or by the Chinamen. She had no reason to believe
that the miners were good men ; she had heard them
confess with their own lips that they had been to-
gether in some crime. Yet she was fain to believe
that they would not injure her. She walked very
wearily, nothing but absolute necessity gave her
strength ; she was hardly the same creature that,
full of excitement, had come swiftly down the hill
in the earlier part of the night. It was quite two
miles she had to walk ; happily the contour of the
land was such that she could not easily mistake
her way.

She had not gone far before she realized that the

165

106

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

111:

Bnow was passing away before the wind as quickly
as frost upon the window pane can be melted by
the breatii. Already there were large tracts over
which she walked where the grass was bare ; she
knew now why, an hour or two before, the snow
had seemed so shallow and compact. Thc^Ve was not
much moisture left upon the ground, the great warm
wind seemed to dry it as it melted.

She began to understand that it might have been
true, what the men told her, that there was no way
of getting to the station while deep snow was on
the ground, because, if it was so transient, it was
natural that no preparations should be made for
travelling in it.

During the long weary walk she heard the moun-
tain stream running. It seemed to be divided into
small streams, that were strewn over the land.
She saw sometimes the outline of what seemed a
wooden trough or spout. She knew enough to sup-
pose that the water was divided thus for the purposes
of gold- washing.

This time the huts belonging to the miners were
completely dark ; she was close to the long low build-
ings before she saw them.

She turned away from that in which the men
slept ; if she could only find a corner in which to
rest until morning, it would be better. Two sheds
there were in which animals were kept; she heard

A. I

arl

thi
thi
ou

TlIK MADONNA OF A DAY.

107

oses

Inien
to
Iheds
eard

the sound of their breath and their restlessness ; they
were no doubt the ponies and draught oxen. The
heavy door of the first shed was locked, so also
was the largest door in the second building, but a
smaller door at one end she found to be only bolted
in such a manner that, after her small white fingers
had worked long at it, she was able to undo the
fastening and pull it open.

She crept into the dark shadow of the interior.
Here, indeed, it was night, no star, no reflecting
snow. There were animals in the place ; she heard
them moving as if to turn and look at her; she
smelt their warm breath. While the door remained
open, she saw a darker shadow that might be a row
of stalls about three fee twithin ; when she had closed
it quickly, she put out her hand as far as she could
reach, and touched the face of some creature. She
could not understand why it was tied with its face to
the door. She walked a few paces to the right,
feeling her way. Iler steps were blocked now by a
pile of hay or straw. By feeling with her hands,
she perceived that another stall and the head of
another beast were opposite this. She was afraid to
examine the animals more nearly ; she was content to
find that there seemed to be some bar which kept
them in their present place. She sank down upon
the hay, shivering with relief at the warmth given
out by the animals and the comfort of the bed.

ill..

If ;

if:

108

TIIP] MADONNA OP A DAY.

It was in tlio dim hour of dawn that she awoke.
A man was entering the door ; the heads of two
great oxen were stretehed out from the stalls towards
him. Her first glance at them suggested that they
were expecting food. The man pushed a large
bucket within the narrow opening of the door, then
he stepped in himself. It was such a very narrow
space, such a compressed stable, that for the moment
lie was quite absorbed in adjusting himself and his
load to the required limit.

The girl had risen silently ; she stood up, leaning
for support against the hay and against the wooden
wall. It was thus, across the heads of the oxen, in
the grey light of dawn, that the man caught sight
of her.

lie stopped in the attitude in which he stood, tilt-
ing the large bucket to roll it upon the floor ; he re-
mained for the space of some seconds, staring with
wide stupid eyes.

"I am only a girl," she began. "I need your
help."

The man let his burden settle back upon the
floor ; he backed precipitately out of the stable, mak-
ing a curious gasping sound. When he got out it
seemed that he saw some of his companions, for he
uttered a short shout that by its intonation clearly
meant that he was in need of help. She heard steps
coming in several directions.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

1(59

rour

the

lak-

lut it

)r be

[early

steps

She could not get past to tlie door ; the cattle had
stretched their heads quite out of the stalls, and were
smelling at the tub which, heavy and full of some
li(piid food, blocked the rest of the passage.

She heard the men who had come up, speaking;
they seemed to be asking, more in derision than in
sympathy, what was the matter. Then the first man
came in again, w^ith three others behind him. The
first man was middle-aged, bearded and shaggy ; an-
other had a beard, but w^as younger ; the other two
were mere boys. The light from the door w^as full
upon them ; they were roughly dressed ; their faces,
too, were not a little wild and rough.

She was too well trained in art not to feel the
influence of the picture. It was hard for her to
find any words that seemed to chime in with this
influence.

"I need your help," she said. *'I need to be
taken to the next town. I must get to the train. I
am only a poor girl, hungry and tired and cold. I
fell off the train, and when I came here tl e first night
my throat was so bad I could not speak ; and then the
man who was here with you — his name is Hamilton
— took me away to a house up the hill." She pointed
in the direction from w^hich she had come.

The men, who it seemed had hardly taken in the
sense of her words at first, at the mention of Hamil-
ton's name became excited. They spoke to one an-

il:,;

170

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

,1 fi

ill

other rapidly, but so low that she could not hear
them.

" No one hurt me when I was up there," she said ;
" but I w^as afraid of them. I ran away in the night
because I was afraid, and now I have come }iere to
ask you to take care of me and take me to the sta-
tion."

The men looked at each other; they looked at
her. A certain incredulity as to the truth of her tale
mingled with much bashf ulness in her presence. The
youngest suddenly dived out of the door. Then they
all went out, and stood together just outside. She
was aware that they did not go away ; they seemed to
be standing together like animals taking counsel in
silence.

She felt entirely encouraged by their faces ; they
were not drunk now, as they had been on the first
night ; there was certainly none of that fere 'hj to-
wards jer which Hamilton had described. She was
inclined to think that she was safe if she could get
these men to do what she required before Hamilton
returned.

She felt sure that there was need of haste ; Hamil-
ton would certainly not be long in seeking her. She
called to Jie men in pleading voice to let her come
out.

Tnoy came in, slapping the heads of the oxen so
3re withdrawn, and

iiey

'mng

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

171

lamU-

Slie

len so
tub.

She stood in the doorway, and they stood just below,
looking at her.

*' Give me food," she said, " and then take me to
the station where I can wait for the train — surely
that is not asking much."

Another man, crossing the enclosure and suddenly
seeing her at the door, stood motionless a moment,
and then ran to the dwelling-house. In a minute
several more men streamed across the space between
the huts; they all stood lookirg at her. Tlie tall
Yankee, whom she had noticed upon her previous
visit, began to manifest signs of delight whicn were
evidently contagious.

Before the exultation had spread there was also
some talking.

" Where's the lady been ? "

" IN^ever went away of herself ! Old Harry took
lier up to Wilson's."

Before the full meaning of question and answer
had reached their minds, the Yankee's jubilant senti-
ment had caught most of them. The Yankee threw
up his cap, and gave a yell indicative of pleasure.
Most of them waved t!ieir caps in the air, and made
gesticulation, suggesting that good fortune had come
to the camp.

It was not just what siie wanted ; she had no
desire that they should be so pleased w^ith her presence
that they would not be willing to get her away quickly.

:'«■

172

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

'^i.'.]

In this demonstration the men who had first
found her took no part; in a minute or two she
found out that this was because they had understood
tlie facts concerning Hamilton. They began to talk
to the others in a low tone ; they spoke of Hamilton
as " Old Harry ; " they seemed to attribute to him
almost, if not all, the power that the spirit who
goes by that name is supposed to have.

"Won't you give me something to eat?" she
asked.

She looked piteous enough. Her face was very
white; it had lost its roundness. Her eyes were
large and supernaturally bright. She felt so weary
and ill that she was almost ready to comply with
any suggestion they made to her, and give up the
battle for liberty as lost. Nothing but a resolute
little will, upholding itself behind all the region of
imaginations and desires which at this hour lay
wilted like flowers and seemingly dead, kept her firm
to the one purpose of reaching the station that day.

At ?:er request for food the men were brought
suddenly back to what notions they had of corrtesy.
One of them, who apparently officiated as cook, ran
at once to the dwelling-hut. The Yankee stepped
forward, hat in hand, and with the caricature of
elegance, begged that she would accompany him.
The breakfast, he said, ^' if not tasty," would be
*' square."

TriE MADONNA OF A DAY.

173

Irtesy.
k, ran
ipped
ire of

lid be

She hardly noticed what he did or said ; she
walked to the other hut, the men following. All the
sweep of the plain in the notch had lost its whiteness ;
the earth and rock of the digging and the water-
spouts were bare ; the near hillsides were green
again ; the ground that she trod upon was brown and
soft; the air, comparatively calm, was very mild.
The feeling of relaxed muscles and exhausted nerve
prevented her from taking any pleasure in the
change ; even the exciting little drama of which she
was the principal figure, lost interest.

The Yankee, long of limb and energetic, had
darted into the hut first, and now it seemed to occur
to him that it was not in a fit state for her recep-
tion, lie gave vent to his views on this point vigor-
ously, and the opinion of the company on the whole
coincided with his. She was left standing outside,
two or three of them guarding her, while the others
inside made a great commotion. Their excitement
showed in certain wrestlings which took place, short
laughs, and a snatch or two of song. With ears sen-
sitive to catch every indication of their spirit towards
lier^ she noticed that when more than one air had
been started for a bar or two, that which prevailed
was a swinging mission hymn ; not that the words
T\'ere articidate, or that any sense of them could be
said to pervade the occasion, but the music made its
">\vn atmosphere.

1<W

174:

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

At length they brought her in. It seemed that
the beds liad been kicked bodily to one end of the
place, in a heap. They gave her a chair near the
stove ; they set a cnp of coffee, and bread and beef
before her, on a rude stand. There was a bio- table
at the other end of the room where the meal for the
men was set out ; a few of the more phlegmatic ate
theirs while she was eating hers. The tall Yankee
sat and grinned at her with benevolent delight. One
or two of the others also stood a good way off, and
surreptitiously feasted their eyes.

Thought came back to her with the strength of
the food. Both Hamilton and the dwarf had agreed
in telling her that this camp was a poor one, contain-
ing a set of low and vicious men. Eemembering the
curious confession that some of these men had made to
her, she thought that this statement was probably true.
The fact that they evidently stood in dread of Hamil-
ton spoke, as it seemed, for their own lawlessness and
low status. They would hardly regard him thus if
they were not under some disreputable obligation to
him.

Her own troubles were giving her a new heart of
kindliness. With the power that a stimulated imagina-
tion lent her of standing apart and looking at her own
situation, she saw the pathos in the lives of these men ;
the pleasure they took in merely looking at her was
patlietic. There was no lack of respect in the way

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

175

:lic

ate

kee

One

and

:li of
yreed
ntain-
(T tlie
adeto
true.

ianul-

ss and

lius if

ion to

leart of
lagi^^''^"

lier own
iQ men ;
her Wt^s
tlie way

that they looked at her. After her late experience,
she felt that she loved them all for this respect. She
would gladly have stayed with them awhile, and done
something to make their lives brighter, if it had been
possible. A dim vision of a higher plane of life, in
which it might have been possible for her to do it,
came to her. That, after all, would be something
worth doing, much more w^orth doing than going
home where, as far as she knew, no one loved her
very much, and working out for herself some individ-
ual ambition, and having her gowns and good man-
ners praised in the newspapers. It was partly because
physical life w^as at such a low ebb within her that she
felt the craving to do some small thing that was eter-
nal while she yet lived. The eternal thing that she
thought of was, of course, quite impossible ; but, in
some way that she could not explain, she knew that
at the root of things the reason of this impossibility
was that she was only a mock saint, not a real one.

When she had eaten and drunk, she felt that it
would be courteous to go out again and let the men
eat their meal without constraint. She told them this ;
she said that siie would go back to the cattle-shed and
sit upon the hay. The Yankee escorted her. The
oxen, that had now been fed, looked at her with big
gentle eyer as they chewed the cud. The air was so
niild that, instead of entering, she sank upon the door-
step. The Yankee went back to his breakfast.

)?■■

CHAPTER XIX.

El! li

While Mary sat upon the doorstep of the shed,
two dogs came racing from the back of it. One was
a ragged terrier of years and experience, the other a
huge creature of mastiff and mongrel descent, perhaps
some six months old, whose strength so far had gone
to bones rather than brains. In front of them, madly
scampering from them for its life, was a kitten. The
kitten, every hair on end, darted into a hole scooped
out where the floor of the shed met the ground. The
terrier, making himself very flat, scuttled through
after her. The huge pup, evidently unconscious that
he was tliree times too big to follow, charged at the
hole madly with his head, and, after trying in vain for
a full minute to make himself small enough, sat up
and wept with disappointment. Inside, the terrier
could be heard making short runs in the hole and
barking with the voice of an experienced huntsman,
proclaiming that he knew where the quarry had gone,
and that he would soon reach it. In the meantime, in
a little hole between the roof and the top of the wall,

176

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

177

hcd,
was
ler a
:baps
2one
uadly
The
ooped
Tlie

rough
s that

at the

am f 0^
sat up
terrier
le and
tsman,
a gone,
time, it^
,lie wah,

the kitten appeared. There she sat, a little fluffy ball
of indignation, looking at the weeping pup, and listen-
ing to the barking terrier.

Mary w^as completely diverted ; she had a vague
idea that only st-range unknown animals lived in these
wilds. There was something simple and homely
about the dogs and the cat which, like the respectful-
ness of the men, comforted her greatly. Her mind
had borne a strain so long that, now the tension had
relaxed, she felt like one who, after crossing the des-
ert, drinks from a spring of cool water.

In a minute or two the men began to straggle out
from the other hut and come over towards her.
They had dispatched their food quickly; the noise
that the dogs were making was an excuse for them
to interfere.

Tears were running down the cheeks of the great
baby-dog ; he was whining dismally. It was evident
that, in his estimation, not his own size, but some
mysterious enemy, had foiled him in the attempt to
follow the terrier. Mary laughed — she could not
help it. She told the first men who came up what
had happened ; she would not let them drive away
the dogs.

They began to watch the game too. The young
dog did not see the kitten above him ; every now
and then he butted at the hole and scrambled on the
ground with his big body, and tried to get through.

li,

178

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

8' -I

Nearly all the men came and stood ronnd to see the
fun. They seemed to be vastly entertained at the
interest Mary took in it ; that, no doubt, was the
entrancing element in the scene to them. She made
small excited remarks about the absurdity of the pup,
the excitement of the terrier, and the security of the
kitten. At length, when her interest in the safety
of the kitten became apparent, one of the men
climbed, caught it, and gave it to her. Then they
whistled for the terrier, and held the dogs from
springing, while the small atom of fury in kitten's
fur arched itself and spat at them valiantly. Such
great valour in so small a thing amused them all
when their attention was concentrated upon it by the
pretty woman who held it. When she laughed, they
all shouted with laughter.

This morning, after the warm wind of the night,
was like spring ; they all felt a tendency to be pleased
because of the passing of the snow ; the dogs wagged
their tails at receiving so much attention, even though
they were held back from the kitten. The kitten,
under Mary's stroking, showed a disposition to feel
herself safe, and began to play with the soft white
fingers. The men, at ease now, loitered in half-
worshipful admiration, while she told them the
tricks of a kitten and a dog which slie had at
home.

It was just then that a party appeared nearing the

TIIl^ MADONNA OF A DAY.

179

itten,
feel

white
lialf-

L tlie

ad at

tlie

huts ; three men were riding on ponies — Hamilton,
the dwarf, and the priest.

Mary's first reflection was that now she was sur-
rounded by men who felt for her nothing but rever-
ence. She had, at least, wasted no time. She could
not have sped away after her breakfast soon enough
to have escaped Hamilton, for he would have met
her upon the road.

As soon as the men saw who was coming, their
geniality vanished. They began to talk to one
another in twos and threes, just beyond her hearing.
In a minute the Yankee asked her quickly to tell
them what it was " Old Harry " had done, and why
she had run away.

The pleasure of being natural and at ease was
gone : she became once more a schemer. For an in-
stant she was in miserable indecision, not knowing
whether it was wiser to try to set these men against
Hamilton by showing his conduct in the worst light,
or to appease him by concealing his plot and its fail-
ure. Unable to tell in the least which policy would
succeed best, she fell back upon the simple truth, told
as it would be told by a heart incapable of thinking
more evil than was forced upon it.

" I went away from here the first morning," she
said, " because I was very ill, and I hoped I should
find some house where there was a woi^an who
would take care of me. I walked a long way, and

180

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

i u

the only place I came to was full of Chinamen, and
they frightened nie." (A murmur of sympathy went
round the men.) "And that big tall man — I think
his name is ]\[r. Hamilton — came with a sledire, and
lie said he would take me where I would be safe. So
he took me all the way up the hill, to where there
were three huts, and I lived in one of them all alone
for three days. He was very kind ; he gave me fire
and food, and left me all alone ; but yesterday even-
ing he brought the little man with the crooked back,
and a priest whom he had sent for from a long way
over the hills ; and he wanted me to marry him — to
be married by the priest ; and when I would not, he
was very angry. So I was frightened ; and when
they left me alone I climbed out of the hut, and
I came down here to ask you all to take care
of me, and to take me back to the railway station
safely."

The Yankee silently put his hand to his hat, and
lifting it above his head, waved it three times, as if
he was entirely loyal to the lady, but at the same
time he said nothing. All the more demonstrative of
the men joined him in this silent gesture ; but they
did not speak. In a minute, having satisfied their
feelings, as it were, by this action, they thought of
the next thing they wished to do, and they all went
away to meet Hamilton.

There was a loud consultation at the place of

TTIK MADONNA OF A DAY.

181

and
las ii
Isaiiie
^e of
tliey
1 their
lit of
went

Ice of

meeting. Mary sat still wliero she was and watched
tiiis meeting with growing anxiety. She felt sure
that the men who had shown themselves to have such
peaceful intentions, could not join in any plot against
her. She tried to feel sure, in spite of Hamilton's
extraordinary influence, that they would protect her
at any cost.

In a minute or two, out of the group of men and
horses Hamilton walked. He strode across the soft
wet ground toward her. Even when he was quite at
a distance she felt that his step and bearing were not
aniicable. When he came near, she saw that he wore
a hard, tyrannical look. She had often heard the
modern complaint that men tyrannize over women.
She had always laughed at it as a thing that was
absurd. A woman who allowed herself to be tyran-
nized over was merely stupid, and deserved her lot.
But as this man came nearer she began to have a sen-
sation that the ground of all her lifelong security was
slipping from beneath her feet.

He strode near, and stood looking down at her
with displeasure.

" Why did you run away ? " he asked. " What
was all that canting talk about the trust you had in
me ? If you had trusted me — look ! the snow is gone
now ; it is quite easy to get to the station — if you'd
stayed quiet, I'd have taken you there safe enough.
I let you off last night ; I was going to deal fair and

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182

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

square with you this morning. Kow look ! after the
fool you've made of me, you shall not go."

She had risen. She spoke in pale, uncontrolled
anger.

"I will go." .

He laughed a sneering laugh. It seemed as if he
felt the laugh to be answer enough, for he let it stand
for one.

" Do you think for a moment," she cried, " that
all those men are going to stand by and see you insult
me?" ,

" A nice lot of religion you talked to us last night,
oh yes, 'pon my honour! — took us in, too. You
really set me feeling quite cublike and sentimental
over you, although I had seen too much of the world
to show it. You did it very well." He laughed the
same laugh again, and turned his hand to her, so
that something he had held concealed showed on his
open palm. " What was it you said your name was
— Mary Howard, was it 2 "

It was the silver cigarette-case with her name en-
graved upon it. She knew that it must have dropped
from her dress during her walk hither.

Hamilton, still sneering, looked at her with a
glance which he intended to show great intelligence.

" Fell from the train in your sleep, did you, my
dear? Oh yes, we all understand. I'm inclined to
think there is some more interesting explanation of

OUJ

out

lia(

evei

waj
(I

my
nam]

com(

THE MACONNA OF A DAY.

183

)ed

yonr descent from the train than that; and since
youVe come to visit us, there's no reason why we
should be inhospitable because you don't find it as in-
teresting as you thought you would. We don't have
much groceries stored up, but I think we can perhaps
manage as much as a brandy-and-soda all round to
celebrate the finding of this little box. You would
not like to have lost it, you know. It's a keepsake,
isn't it?"

She had lost some of the violence of the feeling
of personal contradiction towards him when she
realized that there was a certain logic in his change
of mind towards her. She was deep in thought as to
how to explain away that solid silver argument
against the sobriety of her character. Custom
makes the whole significance of an act in itself col-
ourless. According to the only knowledge of the
outside world which he possessed, the man was
righteous enough in his attitude towards her — she
had the justice to recognize that. She had the spirit
of the educated woman in this, that she was just,
even when her mind was sore put to it to invent a
way of escape.

" The case is mine," she said. " It used to be
my brother's ; and when he died, my mother had my
name put on it and gave it to me."

The dwarf and several of the other men had
come up now. They were listening with interest.

184

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

Hamilton gave a short laugh. He pressed the
spring, and laid it open in his hand, the cigarettes
showing.

" And these little fellows inside," he said ; " they
belonged to the dead brother, too ? "

Her eyes opportunely filled with tears. She was
not able to bring them at will, but pity for herself at
being so insulted overcame her for the moment, and
she had the wit to turn the emotion to account.

" He — only died last year," she said, with falter-
ing voice, " and I — I have kept them in it just as
he left them. I have carried it about always with
me for his sake " — here she put her small hand upon
her breast — " and last night I remembered that there
were matches in it, and I lit them all, hoping that
the train would see, and stop for me; but it did
not "

Her voice had entirely died away with the last
words. She was wiping her eyes, trying to control
the tendency to hysterical sobs which she felt. She
let her grief, her helplessness and misery, all plainly
appear in her trembling attitude and white, tear-
stained face. She had all her life despised women
who use these weapons in the warfare of life — she
had held it a mean and paltry thing to do ; now she
was only too thankful to hear a murmur of sympathy
from some of the men.

Encouraged by this, she looked up at them. The

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

185

jar-
en
she
she

iTbe

dwarf standing beside Hamilton had a look of anx-
ious interest in his thin nervous face ; his mind was
not made up. The murmur of sympathy had come
from the more ignorant men who stood behind the
two. She lifted her eye to meet Hamilton's. On
his handsome wicked face there was still the sneering
smile; in that moment she saw clearly — a flash of
perception — that this man was clever enough to see
through her acting. lie had been shrewd enough to
suspect it perhaps since the first day ; last night his
mind had wavered, but now that the silver box, not
the cause but the corroboration of his suspicion, had
cleared his sight, her dissimulation was by him clear-
ly detected. No doubt he supposed the deceit to
belong to a life and character wholly different from
her own, but that he was certain of the deceit, and
not again to be deceived, she understood. Some
tone in her voice, some line in her face, had made it
evident ; and now, as far as this man was concerned,
she was worse off than if she had not sought to
appear religious.

She turned from Hamilton, and looked at the
others with silent appeal.

Hamilton also turned to them. "When this
pretty lady was up at Wilson's," he said, " she told
me that if I'd get the priest and do the marrying,
she'd stay and be queen of us all. You see, she got
tired of life in the world, had her own reasons, de-

186

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

cided she'd seek her fortune in the far West — rather
a jolly thing for us, isn't it ? I have taken a fancy
to the lady, and the lady has taken a fancy to me--
at least, that's what she said up at Wilson's. Then
we had a little quarrel, and that's what's put her in
the pouts now ; but, bless her ! she'll come round out
of it. And we don't even need to wait for that, for
the priest he's got to go back to the Crees, so we'll
have to make use of him while he's here. Why,
boys, if you come to think of it, it's a tremendous
lark. The lady's got tin, you know — no end of it,
all fastened up in her pocket-handkerchief. You see,
when she left her happy home she came off for good,
so she brought her booty with her. We'll have the
biggest old time out with some of the tin to celebrate
the wedding. When we send to the station for the
lady's wedding clothes, we'll send for the wedding
breakfast too. I'll build a new house, too, for me
and the queen, you know. We'll keep open house
to the whole of you ; and the lady is graciously
pleased to use some of her fortune to pay off that
score that we all know about. We like to be rid of
old scores."

It was this very last part of his speech, more than
any other, that seemed to excite and animate them ;
but to the whole of it they had listened with more
pleasure than disapproval. In a wild life it is the un-
expected which is chiefly desirable, and it was evident

th(

us,

mai

TUE MADONNA OP A DAY.

187

han
iin;
lore
un-
lent

that there were certain reasons why this plan of his
was peculiarly welcome.

All the men were around her now. Mary spoke,
her utterance almost thick with her intense loathing
of Hamilton.

" It is not true. I have no money. I never spoke
to him in a friendly way. I never said these things ;
he lies."

" You see," said Hamilton, still holding his audi-
ence by an eloquence which they seemed to appre-
ciate, " the hitch in the matter's just this — the lady
showed me her money. How would I know she
had it if she hadn't shown it to me ? And we were
going to get married as soon as the priest came, as
easy and nice as could be ; but I said to her, * My dear,
I'm delighted that you've had the goodness to turn up
and marry me so handy, but I'll not desert my boys.
If this marriage is to take place you must give up a lot
of that tin to pay this score that we have on our con-
sciences — quite providential that you arrived to do it,
too.' "

A murmur of approval went round the men.

" It was about that that the little lady went into
the sulks — not that she minded paying our debts for
us, but she got it into her head that I mightn't be
what you call * affectionate ' enough, thought I was
marrying her for her money. Now, I put it to
you all ; is it likely, with such a pretty little lady

I
II Ilk J

ill 11

188

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

as this, that a man would want to marry her for her
money f "

When he waved his hand towards her, demand-
ing that they should look and see for themselves
whether she was not worthy of his affection, their
very enthusiasm for her turned all in his favour, and
they expressed themselves as certain that no man
would need to marry her from mercenary motives.

With consummate skill, playing always upon their
very admiration and pity for her, and also upon some
secret need they had for money which he promised
them, holding himself up before them as greatly gen-
erous in being so loyal to them at this exciting and
romantic juncture of his own life, he carried their
sentiment with him moment by moment.

Bewildered, half-stunned as to feeling, Mary stood
listening. It came to her mind that she had read of
slave markets where women were bartered away by a
glib auctioneer. She was like one of those women
now. She had never before thought to pity them
much ; so novel a mode of marriage had seemed to
her interesting and romantic. She remembered once
to have maintained this view, saying that anything was
better than the respectable commonplace. The memory
of this came back to her like a strange dim dream.

Hamilton's tirade produced in her almost blank-
ness of mind. Sometimes she lifted her head, and
said strongly, " It is not true ; " but he always covered

woi

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

189

len
hem
to
mce
iwas
Lory

the sound of her voice with his own louder words.
She looked from one man to the other ; her eye found
no rest except upon the face of the dwarf. There,
where she least expected it, she felt that there was
some hope for her. The dwarf said nothing ; he did
nothing. He was endeavouring to ^x his face into its
ordinary look of cold cynicism ; none of liis compan-
ions noticed that cynicism was not really there.

At length Mary ventured to appeal to him. She
spoke not in the former tone in which she had tried
to reach all the men, but in a quick aside, addressed
only to him. " You know that this is not true ? "

" How do I know ? " he replied, exactly in the
same tone.

It was very curious, but as Hamilton was still per-
suading the men, gaining a loud and easy victory for
the time, and as they in turn were growling or ejacu-
lating their sentiments upon his words, Mary, in the
very midst of them all, held parley with the dwarf
unheard and unnoticed.

" You do know," she said ; " you know that every
word I said to you last night was true."

There came a look of almost dreamy reflection
into the dwarf's face.

" If it wath, it will be all wight," he said.

" What am I to do ? "

There came upon the dwarf's face a new look ; it

was almost like a sunrise. She was hardly conscious
13

1:-

190

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

that by these words she had put herself under his
protection until she saw the great pleasure she had
given.

She hardly knew what happened in the next few
minutes. Hamilton was giving the men an account
of the interview in which he said she had consented
to marry him, and giving it with such minute imagina-
tive detail that it was difficult, even to her, to believe
it fiction ; and they, who would evidently not have
trusted his word in mere denial or affirmation, being
wholly incapable themselves of such a fictional narra-
tive, did not apparently doubt its truth in the main.

She felt almost hopeless of making any further
appeal to the other men. If it had been true that she
had once consented to Hamilton's plan and then re-
pented of her consent, that was no reason, to men
like these, why she should not be protected now and
allowed to have her own will. It was clear that the
reason why their protective instinct was ebbing, as
far as she was concerned, was that her character, as
represented in this story, was not one for which they
had respect. Nothing was said against her ; she was
merely represented as easy in manner, indifferent as
to past and future as long as she could enjoy the
present. She was not at all sure that Hamilton had
not, by some subtle insight, hit off her real character
pretty truly, and it sickened her to find that, in the
eyes of these men, who saw no nice shade of differ-

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

191

In had
[racter
iin the
difier-

ence, such a sketch represented a woman wlio could
take care of herself. They were willing to hail her as a
jovial companion ; their protective attitude had gone.

Well, after all, was it not precisely the thing she
had been proud of — that she could take care of her-
self ? and here she was left, as it were, by this com-
pany of men simply to do that as best she might.

And all this time every one concerned was stand-
ing in front of the cattle-shed, upon the soft wet
earth, busy, every one of them, talking or listening ;
except the priest, who, a strange uncouth figure, was
pacing at a little distance with a curious rapt sort of
look, as if he might be performing some half-savage
rite. The three ponies, still saddled, had been tied to
a post ; it was the signal for the breaking-up of the
discussion when some one went to unsaddle them.

The sky was grey with cloud overhead ; the huge
sides of the notch looked down upon them ; the dig-
ging with its flume and riffles lay brown and drear.
The huts were of rough un painted wood ; the men
wore rough and dirty clothes. The one solitary
woman wrapped her silken veil more closely round
her, and shrank from them, turning again to the
doorstep of the cattle-shed ; it was the only resting-
place that seemed in any sense her own. She felt
that she could almost have bartered her life at that
moment for a little space of rest and peace — time to
gather her forces to resist the next trial.

i^ii.ii

CHAPTER XX.

For a time tlie men left Mary alone ; the work of
the day was to be done. Slie wondered at her own
defeat. She had been ill, but she considered that she
had got better ; she had not enough experience of ill-
ness to know that recovery from so sharp an ailment
was impossible until more time had elapsed. She had
not been capable of enduring the exertion of the
past night without a reaction that, even amid the ex-
traordinary excitement of her present situation, pro-
duced now a lassitude which seemed to her almost
imbecility.

An awful fear came across her that some poison-
ous thing might have been added to her breakfast to
produce her present feeling of helplessness. She
looked about at the men. They had begun to go
about their ordinary morning duties, not however in
an ordinary way, for they were much excited ; what-
ever they were doing, their faces were apt to be
turned in her direction.

She heard laughter that seemed horrid to her;

reqi
past
he
done

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

193

ion-
to

go
Ir in

Ihat-

she heard them shouting one to another ; she felt that
behind the sliouts was a current of excitement in
regard to lierself and Hamilton.

She dropped her head upon her hands because
she felt hardly strong enough to hold it up. She
had heard of people walking in a snowstorm who,
just as their lives depended on their exertion, were
overcome with the desire to sleep : she felt like
that now.

The man who had that morning come first into
the cattle-shed was working inside it now. She spoke
to him.

"What is the name of the little man with the
crooked back ? " she said.

" * Handsome,' " said the man. " * Handsome,' we
call him." He grinned at her as he spoke; it was
the sort of humour that he could appreciate.

Being slow of thought and understanding at the
time, it took her almost a minute to think over what
he had said and say something in return.

"Will you go and tell him I want to speak to
him ? "

The man appeared much satisfied, as if the trivial
request conferred distinction upon him.. He stepped
past her with an expression which made her imagine
he would tell every one he met of the honour she had
done him.

"Wait," she said feebly. "J don't want the

194

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

others to come around me ; don't tell any one but
Handsome." *'

While she waited, looking about her at the hills, it
Beamed to her that hor eyes were growing dim, for
the landscape grew less distant. When she looked
up and saw the dwarf beside her, this immediate fear
was her principal thought. .

" They gave me breakfast before you came," she
said. " Do you think they could have put anything
in it to make me stupid ? " She lifted her white face
to him, quivering with fear.

" Why did you thend for me ? " he asked. Then
quickly, without waiting for an answer, as if ashamed
of his cold curiosity, "No, I'm thure they didn't.
You're knocked up with being out all night. Plucky
of you, you know ; but not withe ; natural — but not
withe. You'd weally bowled Hamilton over lath
night, you know. Pwetty much all devil, he ith ; but
*the devilth altho believe and twemble,' you know.
He wath thcared of you lath night, would have given
in. 'Now the devil'th got hith back up — bad thing
that ; and then there'th the cigawetth."

She felt a desire to speak the truth to this man ;
but the truth was so difficult, perhaps impossible, to
explain ; it would need that she should introduce him
to a new class of ideas. She was incapable of the
effort, and to have made it unsuccessfully would have
been fatal to her one hope.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

196

lan;
le, to
him
the
have

She spoke hastily. "You believe what I have
said, don't you? You believe that they were my
brother's? You see, when I was travelling I was
afraid to put valuable things in boxes, and I w^as
afraid to leave them about in the sleeping berth in
the train, so I took all that was valuable and wrapped
it in a packet in my breast. It is quite true what
they say, that I have money — a little, not much — and
my ring ; but I could not have believed that any set
of strong English-speaking men would rob a weak
woman."

The dwarf gave her a sidelong glance; he was
standing meditatively at the side of the doorstep.
He looked a muscular man, except that his face was
thin and wore a nervous look of suffering that implies
a certain appearance of thought. He did not look
like a good man ; but the furrows of beardless cheek
and chin were relaxing more and more, not in the
slightest degree towards tenderness or pleasure, but
into sadness and a mood of reflection.

"They'd die wather than wob Beauty, if they
called it wobbing," he observed.

" Do you think, then, that they would let Hamil-
ton bring that wicked priest near me again ? Would
they not defend me from Hamilton, and take me to
the train ? "

"Why hath Beauty come down on me with
widdleth ? "

i If

I I:

' >l

til

I Mil'!

196

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

" I did not like you at first," she said. " Now I
begin to feel that you are the only man here who can
stop and think. No one would ever do very wicked
things if they thought about them first, surely."

" Wight you are, with regard to them all except
Old Hawwy — thinkth like the devil, he doth."

She drew a long sigh. " Oh, I am so tired," she
said. " I would give my life for a rest. Is there no
chance of his relenting? You know him, and you
think — not like a devil, and perhaps not like an angel
either, but like a man who could not see a cruel thing
done without pain."

She felt that he was touched by this representa-
tion of himself, by the extreme weariness of her tone.

His words were reluctant. " Don't think he will
welent now."

^* What must I do?" she asked, in tones in which
misery was growing strong, waking her, as it were,
from weakness by torture.

She thought he had some project in mind to
which he was not wholly prepared to commit him-
self. It must have been something she had said the
night before which had worked upon this seemingly
coldest of men to make him think of befriending her.
She roused herself now to say again such words as
might decide him in her favour. It was a moment
strong with fate ; she did not let her object appear.

" I am so tired," she said, " I feel as if I could

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

197

to
Lm-
Ithe

ler.

lent

)uld

just lay my head down somewhere and die. I would
be so content. But, you know, our lives are not our
own to give away like that, not unless we have to
choose between doing wrong and dying, and then I
think it would be right to die, don't you? But it
seems to me so sad. I am so sorry for all these men ;
I am so sorry for you ; I wish so that I were a mis-
sionary, or a sister of charity, or some one like that,
who could quite rightly su^y and make life happier
and better for you all. These men — what have they
to teach them the love of God when no one loves
them on earth I Ah, I wish that all the idle worldly
women I know could see what I see, and they would
give up their foolish pastimes and come to places
like this, and just be gentle, and good and true, and
merry in their own way — not singing hymns, you
know, I don't believe in too much of that, but just
be themselves, wearing clean beautiful dresses, and
siuging and reading to the men, singing beautiful
songs that everybody understands, and reading story
books and poems, and having the fear of God always
iu their faces."

She had sketched the ideal absurdly enough, be-
cause she had really small notion how to put it to-
gether. Her words arose partly from the generous
impulse of pity and good nature which was natural
to her heart, but chiefly from the desire to act a
saintly part which had actuated her hitherto. She

i !

198 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

wanted now to make him think that she was worth
saving. " And now," she went on quickly, yet still
in pathetic reflective tones, "it seems so sad that,
instead of being able to help these men at all, I should
only have the life crushed out of me by their un-
kindness ; for I am not strong enough to-day, indeed*
I am not, to argue and struggle, even to shriek, or
beg them to have pity upon me ; and you say, you
really say, that you think Hamilton will not relent."

He made a sound as if beginning to speak, and
then was silent again. After a moment he did speak,
not looking at her, not using attitude or expression
that would suggest that he was saying anything im-
portant, looking in fact steadily at the man who hap-
pened to be nearest to them, about twelve yards away.

" You thee, I believe that Beauty hath fear of
God in her own face; worth while to take Beauty
ij thtation if pothible. "Wondered how I could man-
age to get off, but now Beauty'th given me new idea
about dwops to make one thtupid. Have very bad
painth thometimeth: lotth of thleeping dwops —
wather dangewouth twick." He stopped; he was
evidently trying to think out the details of his plan.
In a minute he went on again, attacking the subject
at a slightly different point. * Old Hawwy'th going
to get up gwand dwink, woatht a whole ox behind
the bawn before he bwingth on the pwietht again.
Thinkth you'll thcweam, and all that. Wanth to

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

199

lan-

idea

bad

was

)lan.

)ject

foing

thind

;aiii.
Ih to

have a high old time going on to cawwy it off.
Won't bwing on the pwietht till after the d winks.
Wind'th going down ; fog coming on. Geth dawk
early here." He stopped again, as if at some obstruc-
tion of thought ; then, after a minute, he said delib-
erately, " Beauty'th knocked up, quite knocked up ;
will need all her thwength. Beauty must go inthide
and lie on the hay. Beauty 'th thafe enough ; give
Beauty my word — thall not be dithturbed."

She saw now that what had seemed the dimness
of her eyes was gathering mist. She wondered how
it would help her, but had not strength to think the
matter out.

" You give me your word 1 shall lose nothing by
resting now ? " she asked.

" Go in and thleep, beth thing Beauty can do ;
give my word on it."

She did not look at him ; she looked away where
he was looking, aware that there must be no outward
sign of compact, but she said in a low ringing
voice —

" Oh, I can't tell you how I thank you. Some
day — some day, if God saves us alive, I will show
you how grateful I am."

She went in, past the horned heads of the oxen,
and sat down again upon the pile of loose hay. She
did not mean to sleep ; she meant to rest, alert and
vigilant, until she could think over this new develop-

200

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

ment. Weakness and tlie relaxing quality of the
mild air completely overcame her. Jler head sank
upon her arm, her arm upon the hay ; Fhe would just
sleep for a minute and then be vigilant again.

The dwarf shut the door, and sat down outside
with his back to it. Inside, the lady slept pro-
foundly.

ei
h

W ■

CHAPTER XXI.

Mary did not wake until she was aroused by a
voice. She saw the dwarf standing in the dim light
of the shed. On", of the oxen was stretching out its
long nose over his shoulder, expecting him to furnish
food. The dwarf took not the slightest notice of the
animal ; he was looking at Mary with a strange ex-
pression of excitement.

He made a gesture ; he said a word — " Come."

She could not gather her mind at first to under-
stand, for it seemed bnt a minute or two since she had
been talking to him before ; yet she always remem-
bered afterwards how, in that dazed moment, he had
appeared to her — the short broad sinewy form, elate
as it seemed with a big thought of some sort ; the thin
white suffering face looking singularly happy, not at
all with the happiness of pleasure, but with a joy in
which pride and sorrow were mingled, and, curiously
enough, it seemed the pride was not in anything he
had done, but in her.

" Why should he be proud of me?" she thought

201

202

TUE MADONNA OP A DAY.

to herself. It was her first distinct waking thought.
" Proud of me I why ? »

" Come I " he said again.

She staggered to her feet, pushing her soft dark
hair back from her face with both hands, passing her
fingers across her eyes as if to clear her vision. He
went out of the shed ; she followed him.

Three of the men were standing by the door. As
she glanced from face to face, she saw that they were
the best of the men ; the tall Yankee was there, and
two of the boys ; they were holding two ponies sad-
dled. It was, perhaps, about three in the short winter
afternoon. A white fog had gathered everywhere in
the air ; it was not dense, but it shut out the hills. She
looked about all the other buildings with swift ap-
prehension, wondering what she was to understand.
Except the men at the door, there was no sign of life
anywhere ; the two dogs lay sleeping as if they were
dead.

The dwarf betrayed excitement ; he began to bustle.
Pulling the nearest pony close to her, he pointed out
a rude horn which they had fastened upon the saddle
to make it possible for a woman to sit sideways upon
it. He told her that she must mount at once, and they
must be off.

As she was clumsily mounting, they told her what
had been done. A narcotic had been mixed with the
men's dinner. Handsome had not dared to put in any

TUE MADONNA OP A DAY.

203

istle.
out
ddle

|upon
they

I what

the

In any

quantity which might have lasting cffe'jt. It was
impossible to say how much Hamilton and liia friends
had taken, even of the portion given them. They
were in a lethiirgic state now, but no one could tell
how long it would last. The three accomplices were
going to feign sleep when the others awakened.

" I guess most ladies can ride when something de-
pends on it," said the Yankee. lie gave the reins
into her hand. " Steady now I Don't give him his
head. You've got a mighty lot of saving yourself to
do, managing that pony. No one can do it for you."

There was no time lost. The dwarf rode on in
front. Even in the excitement of feeling the fantas-
tic strangeness of the deep sleep that had fallen on the
busy settlement, even in the fear of riding off into un-
known wilds in the gathering fog, upon a horse that
she did not know, with a man whom she had not
much reason to trust — even then Mary's eye caught
something in the faces of the men standing be-
side her that made her feel again the pathos of
their life.

All three men were eager that she should be gone ;
yet she held her reins tight while she leaned over and
shook hands with each. One hard hand after another
held hers. She looked in their faces, and she had again
a glimpse of a vision of power quite different from
that on which she had thought when she had con-
ceived of herself as an actress, different indeed from

204 THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

any exaltation conjured up in her brain by the
strength of vanity.

As a rider the dwarf was fearless. As soon as
they were nearly out of sound of the huts, he asked
her if she could gallop as far as the railway, for it
was the best bit of road they would have.

After that they went through the plain of the
notch as a gust of wind or a cloud of dust travels.
The rude wooden horn that they had screwed upon
a man's saddle enabled her to cling to her seat. It
was a mere matter of clinging ; there was no ease in
the grasp which her knee had around it ; and yet she
did not think of this ; if it gave her pain she did not
know it. In that first two miles' dash of speed she
had but one distinct thought; all others were like
spectres of thought that floated by. Her distinct
thought was, that her pony had got his head, and
that she had no reason to suppose that when she
reached the embankment she could check him. The
thoughts that passed like spectres were picturings of
the curious thing that was taking place, for, as the
dwarf rode in front, he was more like a misty thing
of poetic lore than a real body— so dim the mist
made their figures. It seemed to her that they two
were like ghosts in stories such as she had sometimes
heard of — stories of glens or highways, haunted
always by the passing of some typical figures who
Jiad at some time impressed themselves upon the

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

205

lie

imagination of the race by the striking relation they
bore to some side of life or death. She and her
companion, galloping madly down this misty echoing
waste, were perhaps translated already into the region
of types and ideals — he a wicked man, deformed
body and soul, with just that spark of true life left
in him that enabled him for once to reverence and
save a woman he deemed good, and she a woman
unworthy of his reverence. While the wild excite-
ment of the racing ponies communicated itself to her
nerves, she saw herself passing swift like a ghost in
the mist, a degraded mixture of good and evil — good,
because a certain level of goodness had been hers by
birth, forced upon her from without; evil desper-
atelj vil, because she had sought to rise no higher.

Some wild cattle near their path caught the ex-
citement of the gallop. She heard their heavy feet
rushing madly ; she did not see them. The sounds
they made added to the ghostliness. The mist was
denser here ; she began to wonder how dense the
mist of death would be. Was she riding swift,
direct, into the region of ghosts which comes after
death?

When they neared the railway line, the dwarf, see-
ing that she had lost control of her pony, brought his
own up with it and caught her bridle. Then she
knew that the excitement of the galloping had given

her foolish fancies.
14

206

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

The dwarf continued to lead her pony down the
other side of the embankment and across the bridge.
Between the bank of the river and the edge of the
forest she saw there was a road which had not ap-
peared while the snow lay. Along this they turned,
toward the west.

Great boulders of the river bank could be seen
to the right hand, and to the left the outskirts of the
green forest ; beyond that it was mist. They heard
the river rushing loudly, but could not descry its
movement. They heard birds and squirrels, enliv-
ened by the mild weather, among the trees, but could
not see them. Pretty soon the road turned com-
pletely into the forest.

They were riding upon such a road as she had
walked on to the Chinese Settlement, but now the
ground was moist and dark underfoot. The trees
were dripping with the moisture of evaporation.
Twilight here had her lair, from which she was
presently going forth to the open regions of the
earth. The great trees in the mist looked greater
than they had done in the morning light; to eyes
unaccustomed to their greatness it was an unearthly
enchanted place. The firs held their shelves of shade
motionless above ; the cedars swept their long fans of
green downward to the earth. The prostrate logs
of a former growth of trees had been hewn away
from the trail ; the ground underneath was firm

• I

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

207

P-
d,

sen
tlio
ard
its
iliv-
ould
3om-

had
tlie
trees
ition.
, -was
the
eater
eyes

Tthly
shade

,ns of
logB
away
firm

enough, strewn with the droppings of cedar, and
hemlock, and fir. The footsteps of the ponies were
ahnost noiseless upon it; huge crows that dived
above among the billows of evergreen branches made
more noise, and so did the scolding scpiirrels. In
front of her, through the mist, the dwarf rode on.

They were riding quickly, but not with all speed
as before. Mary felt now the pain of her knee round
the misshapen pummel of her saddle ; it was sharp,
but it did not distress her. That she was going away
from unendurable persecution gave her perfect con-
solation ; where, exactly, she was going she did not
know. She was following the dwarf with absolute
trust, yet, when she came to reason the matter, she
descried little ground for confidence. This brought
her to the contemplation of the dwarf as a person,
rather than as a tool.

She felt that she must talk to him, if only to
discover where he was leading her, and yet she had
grown almost more curious now to discover what he
was thinking of, and why he kept silence, always
looking on before.

Her spirits were high. For the first time in these
dreary days she felt comparatively at ease with her
companion, and her manner at once became natural.
In her normal condition, although she thought noth-
ing of fibbing, she was an honest little person. Only
what she deemed necessity had made her appear other

208

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

than she was. Iler natural sociability and good-heart-
edness now came uppermost, but was mingled with
the impulse to make herself ao safe as possible by
working upon his sympathy.

She called to him ; she knew only one mode of
address. " Handsome," she called ; " oh, Handsome I
I am almost afraid I cannot ride so fast much far-
ther."

The dwarf peered apprehensively behind.

" Do you think," she asked, " that he will follow
us?"

Tliere was no doubt with cither of them to whom
the pronoun referred.

Handsome merely said, " If he wakth up."

"You can't tell how long he will sleep?" she
asked, still in a talkative humour.

"Don't know how many dwopth of thtuff he
thwallowed."

She had a curious feeling all this time that she
had broken into some high dream in which he had
been indulging ; that she was losing something of his
respect, merely because she wanted to talk ; yet she
could not go back to silence. It was fast growing
dark ; crows and squirrels were silent ; it would soon
be deep night, and the thought was terrible, unless
she could find out something of what was passing in
the man's mind.

"I will not grow tired," she said humbly. "I

Vf A

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

209

- ^

she

tt slie
had
lof his
5t she
►wing
soon
lunless

[ing in
"I

will ride as far and as fast as you want me to. I
know it is for my sake you are doing it, and I am so
tliankful to you."

She heard, or thought she heard, him begin his
next words in a tenderer tone, but he hastily reas-
sumed that of light cynicism.

^'Beauty mutht go on widing; hard on Beauty;
not tho hard ath being caught."

Phrases like .these falling from his lips had so im-
pressed themselves upon her mind in hours of terror,
and those hours had seemed, or really been, so long a
part of her lifetime, that it seemed entirely familiar
to her to hear his speech. All that was odd about
it was that her whole relation to him had changed.
They were now friends, huddling together, as it were,
in fear of a common enemy.

" Twemendouthly lucky hour," remarked the
dwarf ; " pitth dark in a minute, and the fog — don't
have a fog like thith wonthe a year. But bletht if I
know how we're to get to the thation."

The very real difficulty of the way now struck
her forcibly ; hitherto she had left its consideration
entirely to him.

"I was so glad, so very glad, to get away,"
she said, " that I have thought of nothing else,
so far."

"Woad leadth thwough the canyon," said the
dwarf ; and the grim way in which he said it made

210

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

her know that the canyon offered no easy pass for
the horses. Moreover, the terseness of his phrases
began to give her a feeHng of new timidity towards
him. She began, then, and afterwards, to understand,
thongh from no word of his, that he was making
more of a sacrifice, in some way, for her than she
knew or could know. She felt that, in her transient
relation to him, it was useless to attempt to investi-
gate this. It only remained a dim fact, shadowing
her dealings with him, and producing in her a new
humility.

" Is it very difficult to get through the canyon ? "
she asked, as a child would.

" When there'th light, jutht wide on the woad till
one getth thwough ; only four niileth ; thlow work,
but one getth to the other end. When itth dark ath
pitth, madneth to twy ; wocktli and the wiver about
fifty feet beneath ; wockth about theven hundred
feet above — madneth to twy."

" What are you going to do ? " She felt that her
voice came rather faintly.

" There'tl a houthe, if I can find it. Beauty may
weth athured I will do my betht to find it."

There was almost a solemnity in his words, which
reminded her that he had said he believed she had
the fear of God in her face. She took courage ; how-
ever absurd his reverence for her might be, she be-
lieved it would bring her to safety.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

211

lier

I may

had
Ihow-
be-

" Are there — are there nice people in the house ? "
slie asked. " Is there a woman in it ? "

" Keep Beauty outthide all night watlier than take
her where the folkth aren't nithe."

If he spoke in an assured tone, he also spoke
sadly, and this sadness and constraint of his made her
feel that unnecessary talking was out of place.

The pony brushed her so close to a trunk of a tree
that she checked him with a cry ol fear.

" Beatht can't thee," observed the dwarf.

Whereupon he got down, and led both his pony
and hers ; not that he could see as well as they, but
that he had got a better knowledge of the space re-
quired for a woman to ride in.

She knew from his height, from the awkwardness
of his gait, that his present progress, holding an arm
to either pony, must be laborious and painful to him.
She wanted to tell him how grateful she was, and
found in herself no expression that appeared to fit
the circumstances and his sad mood.

a ^e're not going faster than I can walk," she
said at length. " I can lead my own horse ; it would
rest me to get down and walk." This last w^as to
make him think that her offer did not imply recogni-
tion of his deformity.

But he would not let her walk ; he gave as excuse
that the animals would not walk quietly, and she
might be injured by their feet. In truth, the ponies

212

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

did not walk quietly ; but she was quite aware that
under the dwarf's refusal lay a stronger reason than
any he had given : exactly what it was she did not
know, but she perceived that he did not wart her
upon the ground beside him. In his mind he had
placed her on some level of life wholly different from
his own — a creature to be cared for as he would have
cared for a little child, to be worshipped as he would
have worshipped an angel. It was not her best judg-
ment that this was the right relation of woman to
man, and yet she wrapped herself in this ideal of his
only too thankfully.

There was not a sound in the darkness but the
roaring of the river. Il was so dark that it was
almost impossible for her to realize that as yet it
could not be six o'clock. They were travelling
through the heart of the kingdom of solitude.

CHAPTER XXII.

The road turned out from under the trees. She
was aware of this bj a slight lightening of the op-
pressive darkness ; the mist was still such that they
could see nothing. The dwarf stopped irresolute.

" Cwoss woad somewhere about here," he mur-
mured.

" Ohj do you think we can find it ? " she asked.
She knew it was a foolish question, but he was very
patient with her.

"Happier if I knew," he replied, meditatively.
" Haven't been very long in tliethe partth."

He had hardly said this when his hand suddenly
jerked both bridles so that the ponies jumped. He
uttered no word at first, but she felt that the jerk was
involuntary, the result of nervous shock. She knew
that he hardly breathed for a moment or two after
the ponies were quiet again. They turned their
heads backward, as if listening ; she seemed to feel
the listening of the whole group. Another moment
and she too heard.

213

214

TJIE MADONNA OF A DAY.

There was the sound of a horse coming after
them ; it was coming fast down tho long lane between
the trees.

She felt herself lifted down from her pony ; the
dwarf's nervous temperament was such that in his
excitement he did not know what he did. After he
had pulled her down he stood for a moment with
both arms round her, in agony of protective fear, just
as he would have embraced a darling child which
some one was going to take from him. A minute
afterwards he did not know that he had done tills ,
she thought it probable that he never knew.

While he still held her, he said, "Wun into the
twees stwaight in fwont. Logth lying on the
ground ; cwal over them quick, far ath you can, and
lie down between two. Keep quiet."

She felt him put the reins of both ponies over his
arms ; both the animals began to dance. She lost not
a moment in extricating herself from the group : she
rushed in between the standing trees ; she flung her-
self over the fallen logs. These lay for the most part
in one direction, so that after crossing a few she knew
which way they were likely to lie, and what was the
depth of the gap between them. Fortunately in the
mist sound carried very far; it was full five minutes
after they heard the horse behind them before it
came parallel with her on the road. By this time she
was lying, as she had been told to, upon the ground, •

THE ]V. ADONNA OP A DAY.

215

tlie
tlie
and

lier-

part

mew
is the
In the
Inutes

)re it

Le she
lound, •

between two prostrate decaying trees. She was con-
scious now that during her own rapid progress she
liad heard the dwarf and tlie ponies moving also ;
they, too, were now quite silent.

She knew that the man who was riding upon that
other horse was mad ; on such a road no one but a
madman could have ridden thus. No word had
passed between her and the dwarf as to who followed
them, but no doubt had arisen in her mind. Had
Hamilton a dog ? Had he a lantern ? She did not
dare to raise her head to look for the light.

The pursuer stopped where the road turned out
of the forest. At first she thought nothing but that
he had stopped because he had come upon the dwarf
or the ponies.

There came a pause in which there was no sound.
Slie did not feel any hope of escape. She laid down
her face upon the cold ground, her heart panting
within her. The man Hamilton was mad, and she
was in his clutches. It was an awful fear, a moment
by which all other moments of her life seemed small,
it was so big with thought and feeling. The relation
of all things shifted again for her now, as it had once
done before; for it is impossible in a moment of
extreme need not to scan the horizon of human life
from a level in which its trivialiti are unseen, as the
pebbles and flowers of a plain are unseen by the
spectator upon the mountain.

216 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

A horse began to move. At first, in her agony,
she felt sure it was one of those which the dwarf had
been holding. In a few seconds she perceived that the
horse and rider last come were moving onward. She
raised her head ; there was no gleam of light such as
a lantern would give; she heard no breathing or foot-
steps of a dog.

In a minute more it seemed evident that Hamilton,
if Hamilton it was, had stopped to look and listen at
that point for the same reason that the dwarf had
stopped, because it was the beginning of a new reach
of the road, and near a parting of ways.

She heard the receding sound of his going a longer
time than she had heard it coning, for he went more
slowly. She heard also slight movement from time to
time, which told her that the dwarf and the ponies were
not very distant. After a while she began to hear
certain stealthy sounds coming nearer. The feet of
the ponies she still heard at intervals; they w^ere
farther away.

Next came a soft breathing sound, that reached far,
making almost no noise. " Hithed ! "

She lifted her head, and tried to answer the sound.
She had no sooner done so than the movement began
again, coming towards her. The soft signal was made
to her again, and again she answered. By this means
the dwarf came within a few feet of where she was.

" Lithten ! " said the voice of the dwarf ; " he'tli

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

217

had
,t the

She
jh as
"foot-

ilton,
ien at
'f had
reach

longer
; more
;ime to

8 were
o hear

eet of
were

led far,

sound.

began
Ls made

means
Ihe was.

"he'th

gone to the houthe. Will find we're not there ; likely
come back thith way. Thith time, when he th topped,
ponieth behaved like angelth — didn't lift a foot ; ithn't
no thort of uthe hoping they'll act that way when he
comth back, unleth Beauty'th got thome way of thay-
ing her pwayerth that niakth hortheth keep quiet."

She was just going ingenuously to disclaim all
knowledge of prayer; then she remembered that it
was better so.

The dwarf went on at once. " When he'th in a
wage, he'th got no more thenthe than an inf uwiated
beatht. Beauty mutht lie thtill when he comth back,
whatever happenth. Beauty had better go ath far atli
the can now. Doethn't matter what Beauty may hear
— pithtol thot — all the wacket of earth and heaven
muthtn't make Beauty move. No dog; can't find
Beauty if the keepth thtill. Then when he'th gone,
if there'th no one to lead Beauty, the mutht keep
along the woad to the wight, find a houthe — nithe
woman."

Before she had time to reply he began clambering
away again. She heard him moving at first, without
any clear notion that he was leaving her.

She felt inclined to cry out hysterically while he
was clambering almost noiselessly over moss-covered
logs. That was why she did not answer him at once
to say that she would do his bidding, and when she was
ready to answer she perceived that he had receded as

218

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

quickly as he had come. lie was going back to liis
post beside the ponies. Then sonic glimmering of his
meaning came to her.

She spoke out clearly — there was no one there now
of whom she need be afraid.

*' Don't go back to the ponies. Come with me
and hide as I do ; then, even if he finds them, you will
be as safe as I."

She heard him stop for a moment while he only
said —

" Beauty mutht go back and lie thtill."

He bf^gan to move away again, and she reflected
that it was better for herself that he should ; the ponies
were more likely to keep still if he were soothing
them ; and then, if they were found, Hamilton was
more likely to be delayed and set upon the wrong
path if he met the dwarf than if he merely found the
ponies tied.

Thinking only of her own safety, she, too, began
to move as quickly as she could further away from the
road ; for some time she was entirely occupied in her
own progress, which was not an easy one.

After some five minutes she began to be afraid to
go farther ; perhaps she would not be able to find her
way back. It was terribly lonely so far away from the
dwarf. How did she know but that some pit might
suddenly receive her, or some wild animal spring upon
her? She sat down upon a log, leaning against the

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

219

his
: liib

now

I me
I will

only

lected
ponies
Dtliing
n was
wrong
id the

began
)m the
■in her

•aid to
nd her

)ni the

1 might

upon

ist the

trunk of a pine tree, waiting to hear if Hamilton re-
turned. She could now just hear, or fancy she lieard,
the slight movements of the ponies a long way away.

The full significance of what the dwarf had done,
and her own selfishness in leaving him, cf me to her
now with that appalling clearness witli which
thoughts not previously dwelt upon sometimes pre-
sent themselves to the mind when it awakes from
sleep in the night-time.

He had told her what she must do if there was no
one to lead her after Hamilton had come and gone
again. He knew that he met Hamilton at the risk of
his life, and yet he had gone Lack where he was most
likely to meet him, and she had acquiesced.

Her whole mind became absorbed in a frantic
desire that he should not be injured, and that after-
wards she should in some way be able to recom-
pense him, or, if not that, at least express her gratitude
for his goodness. Yes, that was it. Now he was good.
He had not been so before, but now it was pure good-
ness that actuated him; and she — she was horribly /
without this quality of real goodness. She had mocked
goodness by affecting it, but now, for a moment, she
felt desperately what it was to need it. Goodness
was worth everything else in the world.

With a wild feeling that it would be better to
sacrifice herself than lack it wholly, she rose to go
back to the dwarf ; but she had not reached out to

.■■vg

-i'l

220 THK MADONNA OF A DAY.

find tho first obstacle that she must surmount before
she heard a horse ga]h)ping in the distance.

She crouched weakly in the darkness, looking and
listening.

It was so true, what the dwarf had said, that it
was impossible to suppose that, when Hamilton
stopped again where the ways divided, the restless
ponies would remain still for a second time. She re-
membered now what he had said about lier prayers.
She did not believe in prayers, not in the least, but it
occurred to her now, for the first time, that perhaps
the reason she did not was that her nature was barren
of any real goodness.

Such were the thoughts she had in night and
darkness and extreme fear ; but her fear this time
was for the dwarf and not for herself, so that actually
it was of a more moderate sort.

There was certainly every reason to fear for any
one found by the man now galloping through the
night. No one who was not wholly reckless, lost to
all sense of reason, could ride like that. It seemed
that his horse and he must have some supernatural
knowledge of the dark road.

She listened in an agony to hear him check his
horse at the entrance to the wood. Then, in a few
seconds more, it seemed strange that they should have
assumed that he would check it there. It appeared
that even he had no thought that they could attempt

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

221

3 re

tt it
Iton
tless
e re-
yers.
)ut it
rhaps
arren

the canyon in the darkness. Believing that lie had
come entirely in the wrong direction, he rude back
along the forest road. She could almost hear him
breathe as he rode. It seemed every moment that
his horse must stun itself against some tree, or that
the rider must bo thrown off by brushing against
them ; and yet, down that long black aisle he seemed
to gallop successfully, until the distance received him
out of their range of hearing, and silence closed upon
them again.

t and

^ time

tually

)r any
rh the
llost to
seemed
natural

ick his

a few

Id have

Speared

ittempt

CHAPTER XXIII.

Mary began to clamber back across the logs and
between the trees. Now and then she stopped and
listened, thinking that Hamilton might be riding
back again. As the minutes went on she grew more
secure. Her heart — perhaps a somewhat shallow heart
— was full of glee at the escape. She was delight-
fully young ; the rebouna of feeling was natural to
her. "When she had gone some way she called
aloud —

" Oh ! are you there ? Oh, I am so glad he did
not stop. I was afraid he would hurt you."

She had to go much further, and call out the
words again, before they were heard.

The dwarf was busy with the ponies. When she
did at length cause him to speak to her, he explained
that he had led them some way from the road, and
could not now find smooth ground by which to get
them back again. They were restive. She heard
them jumping about. She was afraid they would
trample upon him.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

223

r& and
d and
riding
r more
V heart
leliglit-
ural to
called

he did

)ut the

hen she
[plained
)ad, and
to get
heard
would

The dwarf did not seem to share her glee of re-
lief; but she judged that he was excited, because,
when he did get back to the road, he was more talka-
tive, and told her it was a very good thing that Ham-
ilton had got to the house, where they must spend the
night, before they did ; for now, as he believed they
were not there, it was likely they could pass the night
unmolested.

He then advised her to walk on, feeling for the
road as well as she could, while he followed, leading
the ponies ; for now that there were no trees on either
side, the ponies might get off the path at any time,
and stumble badly. She wanted to walk near him ;
but he insisted on her keeping ahead, only within
calling distance, for he wished to direct her to the
road.

The trees were no longer above them, and the
misty atmosphere was less dark. She felt her way
with her feet, sometimes with her hands, against leaf-
less shrubs which grew by the roadside. Everything
that she touched was dripping with mist; her gar-
ments were damp and heavy, but the air was mild.

When they had made certain that they had passed
the dividing of the roads and got upon the right
track, which lay up-hill and away from the river,
there was nothing more to interest or disturb their
thoughts — nothing to do but to keep on a long weary
mile or more, until they came to their destination.

224

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Every now and then tlie dwarf called to her, " Are
you there ? Are you getting on ? " And she would
answer. This became so wearisome that it occurred
to her to sing. It might beguile his way, and would
keep him aware of her whereabouts.

She turned and called out, " I will sing as I go,
and then you will know I am safe."

It seemed, as she spoke impulsively, that it would
be quite easy to find a song to sing, but the next mo-
ment, when she felt it would be absurd not to begin
at once, no songs came to her, except those the words
of which were ardent love ditties or flimsy lyrics of
sentiment. Then she attempted the first that came
to her that was not wholly objectionable, but her
voice was too weak.

"Plow stupid!" she cried. "I forp^ot my throat
had been bad."

She found that she need not have called aloud.
In his eagerness to hear the song he had pressed on
silently, and was close beside her.

His resigned word of acquiescence told her of a
disappointment deeper than she could have expected.
She could remember many a time when she had re-
sented a slight upon her music, but this eagerness for
it humbled her.

When they got up to the house she could not see
its size ; the dwarf and the ponies had come quite
close to her before she found the door ; then, as she

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

225

)uld
rred
ould

L go,

rould
i mo-
begin
words

rics of

came

Lit lier

throat

aloud,
^scd on

jr of a
Ipected.
had re-

less for

not see

[e quite

as slie

knocked, she saw a light inside, and heard a man
speaking — it was evident their approach had been
heard.

" Who is there ? " cried a gruff voice.

" Anthwer," whispered the dwarf.

She Kfted her soft w^oman's voice, and said —

" It is I — a woman who wants shelter."

There was more than one exclamation inside the
house. Then the door w^as thrown open, and a big
man holding a lamp was revealed. He was a healthy
burly fellow ; a white shirt bulged loosely above his
trousers. Near him stood a woman in nightgown
and shawl. Behind the safe protection of his huge
arm, her kindly face looked over with great curiosity.
It »vas to her that Mary looked.

^' Oh, I am so glad to see a woman ! " she said.
" I fell from the train ; and I have been so fright-
ened and so miserable, until this kind gentleman
took pity upon me and brought me here."

She made a gesture towards the dwarf. He was
standing between the heads of the ponies directly in
front of the door. The light fell upon him. His
white thin face, under the brim of his slouched hat,
wore a look of impenetrable gravity ; but there was
more than that — there was an elevation in the expres-
sion of his features, a look as of some exultant happi-
ness, that did not obliterate but triumphed over his
sadness.

226

THE xMA DONNA OF A DAY.

" It'th all wight, Johnthon,'' said the dwarf.
'' Every word the lady thayth about herthelf ith
twue."

The householder had surveyed Mary with a com-
prehensive glance, and let her pass the barrier of
his arm. He spoke sharply —

" I'll take the lady's word for it, but not yours.
It's a pretty smart thing of you to think that your
word will back her up."

He was, it seemed, a worthy honest man, but
dull. His wife showed far more quickness and
curiosity. She twitched his arm, taking almost no
notice of Mary for the moment —

" But ask him what it meant. Old Harry coming,
and then him and the girl."

The dwarf had not flinched at the rebuff. He
still stood, his face and the faces of the two ponies
clear in the lamplight against the background of the
night.

" Wight you are, Johnthon," he replied. " Hard
lineth if the lady needed me to thpeak for her."

There was satirical emphasis upon the "me,"
and yet the words were more sad than cynical ; and
behind the sadness there was still the evidence of
that strange exultation.

Mary broke in, speaking fast. " But he has been
very good to me. He has saved me from that
awful man they call * Old Farry,' and from all

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

227

^arf.
ith

eom-
>r of

ours,
your

I, but
3 and
)st no

)niing,

:. He

Iponies
of the

Hard

I" me,"
h; and
Ince of

18 been

that

lorn all

those other men at the digging. They were good
enough to me for three days, because I was very
ill ; and to-day, when I began to get well, this kind
gentleman got me away when they were not look'
ing, and we have been hiding in the wood while that
dreadful man passed. Please let us both in for the
night ; I know that this gentleman will take me to
the railway station to-morrow."

" First good I ever heard of him," growled the
householder. "I think he'd better be off to his
own place. I don't want neither him nor his
ponies here." He still stood staring at Handsome.

His wife, a middle-aged woman, was still peer-
ing through the doorway with a face full of interest.
She put her hand upon Mary's arm as she would
have put it on a child's shoulder, as much as to
say she should be attended to when her time came.

"What do you want?'* she asked of the dwarf
shrewdly. " If you've saved the lady, then that's
so much to the good laid up for you. We'll look
after her, and some one from here can take her to
the station."

It seemed a new idea to the dwarf. His face
changed as he comprehended it. He looked at Mary,
and trouble came to the surface upon his face ; but
he said —

" Yeth ; it might be better."

The words were so few and sad, that, for her

228 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

own sake as well as for his, Mary's heart rebelled
against them. Her vanity caused lier perhaps to
exaggerate the pleasure it would be to him to escort
her to the end. Her vanity also made his silent
worship agreeable to her, even though in some moods
of her complex heart she was humbled by it. She
felt at the moment a romantic pride in insisting upon
her trust in him. If her kindness arose from min-
gled motives, she intended to be, and was, purely
kind in her interference on his behalf ; and yet, in
the days after that, she used often to wake in the
night and wring her hands with longing, and say to
herself, " Ah, if I had only let him go then ! if I had
only let him go ! "

For he would then have gone quietly away — she
did not know where, for he could not have returned
within reach of Hamilton ; but he would have gone
away qi jtly into the night, he and his ponies, and he
would never have tried to see her again.

She did not let him go. She spoke vehemently to
the good man of the house and to his wife, saying that
her friend would be in danger of his life if he re-
turned to the digging, that he had already risked it for
her, that she would have perfect confidence in his
escort the next day. The dwarf's face became happier
as she spoke.

After a while the man went out and established
the dwarf and the ponies somewhere upon his prem-

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

229

mm-

^ — slie
turned
e gone
and he

ntly to
ig that
he re-
Id it for
m his
lappier

Ihhshed
prem-

ises, returning quickly. The woman, a strong ener-
getic kindly person, gave Mary such food and drink as
she thought suitable, and then hurried her into an-
other room to go to bed.

It was true that she was anxious to put Mary to
bed, but she was also anxious to talk with her apart
from the big reticent man who apparently regarded
talk as foolish. She had a great deal to say — she
lived a solitary life ; excitement, and a woman to talk
to, produced in her much conversation — but she was
too strong a character to be diffuse.

When the girl had told the simple outline of what
had befallen her, the woman's curiosity w^as satisfied,
and there was true refinement in the reticence of her
comments ; but she had a long story to tell in return,
of the bad reputation which the men in the notch bore
— a reputation for cruelty, for reckless dishonesty, and
other evil dispositions. It was curious to Mary to
observe how one of this woman's strongest sentiments
was that of mortified patriotism that the young Eng-
lishwoman should have fallen in with the worst, and
not the best, folk of the region. She had not lived, it
seemed, more than ten years in that place herself, but
she was touchy as to its reputation for civility. She
was also strongly indignant against the men of the
notch, not more on Mary's account than because this
last bit of their ill manners was of a piece with their
former history. The principal incident of this history

230 THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

was connected with a couple of Irishmen who, until
the previous autumn, had worked a claim in the notch.
The two men had been killed ; there was not a doubt
in the neighbourhood that they had been murdered,
that some of the men at the notch were guilty, and
that Hamilton, knowing their guilt, had absolute sway
over them on that account. As it was, the Govern-
ment, not being able to obtain any direct evidence,
had comrjounded the matter by demanding that the
price of the Irishmen's claim should be paid over to
their families in the spring. *

" Oh, and Old Harry," said the woman, "he'd have
got the money out of you, my dear, if he could ; and
if not, he'll wring it out of some one else ; for it's
power he wants — to have those men, soul and body,
under him — that's what he wants. They say it's a
demon that's got into him, and when the mood's on
him there's nothing that he'll stop at. It's as well you
got off as you did, and are not lying cold in your
grave, or worse. And the little man got you off!
Well, they do say that since he came here he's been
the imp to put Hamilton up to the worst mischief, but
it seems there's civility in him. Well "

While she talked she had hastily taken a child out
of a small bed. Carrying it into her own room, she
spread clean linen of the coarsest upon the bed, and
rapidly enveloped the weary girl in a night-dress,
coarse, but dry and warm and spotlessly clean. With

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

231

until

otch.

loubt

ered,

, and

sway

>vern-

ience,

it the

v^er to

dhave
I; and
:or it's
[ body,
r it's a
)d's on
ell you
n your
)u ofEl
's been <
lef , but

lild out

^m, slie

id, and

-dress,

With

a single movement of her hand she gathered all the
damp clothes and took them to the kitchen. All the
time she was talking.

It struck Mary as curious that her own adventures,
which had appeared to her so wonderful as to be al-
most unique in the world's history, did not impress
this woman as more than one of the disagreeable inci-
dents of life to be forgotten as soon as possible.
Whether this was the want of imagination and dramat-
ic sense, or whether adventure was the commonplace
of this region, she could not tell. The room was
small, the furniture scant and poor ; yet she felt that
she had never before known luxury. She felt also
that she loved this woman ; but against the prosaic
treatment which her story received she made some
faint rebellion.

" But, you know, those men did trefit me well,"
she remonstrated. " You say that they are so very,
very wicked ; but think of all they did for me !
Even in Hamilton there must have been a mixture of
good and bad, and the one that I thought was the
worst of them all has brought me here."

The woman answered as all such good woman do,
convinced that her opinion was knowledge, and that
there was no other knowledge.

" There's not much mixture in them. There may
be a trace o' grace in this poor hump-backed chap —
not in the others. The hands of half of them are red

232

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

with murder; and the others are mixed up in it.
They were afraid to get themselves into more of a
mess with the Government— that's what the sign
o' grace in them was ; but there is not another house
between here and Vancouver where they'd not have
treated you like a lady." This had been the refrain
of all she said.

Moved by one of her generous impulses, the girl
put up her arm, and drew down the homely face, and
kissed it.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Even while Mary slept her heart was troubled by
dreams of Hamilton's mad pursuit. When she awoke
she was still possessed by the fear, to which reason
now added the knowledge that, if he should come
again and find her in this house, his enmity would
be aroused against its inmates. She was not slow to
remember, either, that it would be well for the dwarf
to get within the protection of a larger settlement.

Although hospitable offers were made to her, all
things considered, it was admitted that it was well
she should start again early upon her journey.

The road which she had to go, including the way
back to the main track, was little more than four
miles.

An hour after the late day-break, upon the last
day of the old year, the girl and the dwarf started to
go through the narrow canyon, the farmer and one of
his sons accompanying them to the main track, offer-
ing to set a watch there in order that no pursuer
might enter the pass while they were going through,

233

234

TIIK MADONNA OF A DAY.

A light mist yd filled the air, which was very
still. It was not now dense : the foreground could
be discerned ; the nearer hills looked like dark
shadows.

At lirst the girl, whose vitality was revived by
sleep, experienced a deep disappointment ; the
thought of the wonderful panorama of mountains
which she had expected to see filled her with restless
discontent with the obscurity, but as she advanced a
little way, and found all the scene, as it were, com-
pressed between narrow walls, she discovered that
nature had its own beauty in the fallen cloud as well
as in clearer air. The boiling of the river below them
was just seen, half-veiled in vapour. The rocks with
their lichens and mosses, some sere, some green,
which rose from the river to the road and above the
road on its other side, showed the liveliest colours
they could display against the soft whiteness of the
air, which was seen to kiss them. The towering hill-
side was just visible above, magnified somewhat per-
haps — an awful steep, its pines rooted in the rock,
their branches, rich and green, draped in the soft lace
of mist that pressed upon them above and below.

The railway ran upon the other side of the river ;
upon each side there was just room for one road. She
remembered now that last night was the first night she
had slf3pt so soundly that she had not heard the echoing
rush of the train between these walls of rock. To-night

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

235

she expected to be travelling with it. Her heart gave
a bound at the thought, and tlien again she felt sorry ;
for even in this place of miserable adventure, she
would be leaving something behind which she re-
gretted. What was it ? Something of her own soul,
perhaps, which she had read into the glittering moun-
tain-peaks ; but she thought that that which she was
loth to leave was in them by their own virtue, not by
hers. And then there was something which she re-
gretted more than their transcendent beauty. It was
the dwarf she thought of with this lingering wistful-
ness. Something which she herself had evoked out
of this wretched life made her feel that he was
worthy of greater regard than she could bestow upon
him. Yet she felt gratitude.

She was walking in front, as upon the night be-
fore ; the dwarf walked behind, leading both ponies.
Iler horsemanship was not equal to riding upon such
a road without the compulsion of necessity. There
was no barrier to the downward slope, and the road
was in many places broken and loosened by the last
heavy fall of snow. As she could not ride, the dwarf
could not. He made her walk some way in advance ;
he made her walk rapidly for fear of pursuit. All
the way she knew that his own progress was very
toilsome to him. She began to think what she could
do to recompense his goodness. She had a generous
heart ; a gust of gratitude now outweighed the lust

236 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

of possession ; and, in the impulse of the fresh morn-
ing, she decided to give her diamond to him. The
only other thing she had to offer was money, and she
felt that there would be something unkind and un-
poetical in offering him that.

Yes, she would give him her diamond ring ! Her
bosom swelled with the thought of her own gen-
erosity. She seemed quite reconciled to herself
again, thinking that she was not such a poor speci-
men after all, and, for the time the burden of grati-
tude to him rolled from her spirit as h'ghtly as a
morning mist before the wind.

The physical mist was indeed beginning to lift
now ; a slight air began to blow in their faces ; the
curtains of vapour above them began to shift. The
air around them lightened, and then again it grew
denser, as if a heavier fold of mist from the west-
ward had been rolled upon them. So thick it grew
for a few minutes that the dwarf called to her
to stop.

She leaned her back against the upright rock.
Just above her, in a niche, sere grasses and ferns
stretched themselves out from a tuft of moss, like a
canopy of feathers. The morning had been so mild
tliat, finding the veil upon her head irksome, she let
it drop upon her neck ; it lay huddle ap on her
shoulders like a peasant woman's shawl. Her petti-
coat was short ; her little feet were encased in heavy

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

237

norn-

The

id she

id un-

\ Her
1 gen-
herself
• speci-
f grati-
iy as a

to lift
jes; the
^t. The
it grew
\G west-
it grew
to her

it rock,
id ferns
^s, like a

so mild
[, she let

on her
ter petti-
In heavy

child's boots, bestowed upon her by the good woman
who had sheltered her the night before. She was so
full of her interesting determination to give the ring
to the dwarf that she was not thinking at all about
herself or about her own appearance ; but he saw it
all — saw the soft full curves of her throat and dim-
pled face, rising white above the azure fold, and the
smoke-like cap of curly hair. He came up and stood
within a few feet of her, holding the ponies.

" I'm sure you must be exceedingly tired holding
those creatures. Do you think it will soon be safe
for us to ride ? " • .

" Not thafe for Beauty to wide till we get out of
the cutting." He stood meditatively looking down
at the river, as if interested in its boiling.

For a moment she marvelled to observe how per-
fectly at ease she was with him. She had learned to
trust the new man within him as comp^tely as she
would have trusted some old household ^vant ; yet
even now she reflected how at first the native vul-
garity of this man had made him appear".* an even
more revolting and dangerous enemy than Hamilton.
The powerful impulse which had lifted him out of
wickedness had, as it seemed, raised him into abso-
lute refinement. It made her almost mentally dizzy
to know that the cause was the charm of her own
supposed saintliness. She dared not dwell upon this,

but took refuge in the pleasure of her real generosity.
16

238

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Full of her project concerning the ring, she thought
she wolM pave the way towards it.

" I am so very grateful for all you have done, I
wish I could do something for you in return."

His answer embodied a very old-fashioned notion
of chivalry.

"Beauty doth not need to do anything. Beauty
thmilth — that itli enough."

. She tossed her head impatiently. She was going
to explain, in piquant language, that that idea was
obsolete, that it degraded woman. She did not, how-
ever, make the explanation. She looked at his face,
at the sad strong lines of his thin features, at his
meditative glance upon the water. She realized that
she was not going to be with him long enough to
educate him into new opinions, and that she need not
distress him by disagreeing now. Then, too, there
was the constraining power of the habit which she
had fallen into of appearing more reticent, more dig-
nified than by nature and training she really was.

" You see," she began, " I am afraid I have got
you into a quarrel with all your friends "

" In a vewy little while Beauty will be at the tha-
tion ; can telegwaph to her own fwiendth ; can go to
them."

" Yes, but " she began. The thickness of the

mist suddenly shifted ; the air was almost clear around
them ; they saw volumes of cloud passing above, like

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

239

lone, I

notion

Beauty

IS going
dea was
lot, how-
liis face,
3S, at bis
lized tliat
inougb to

need not
;oo, there

rhicb she
[more dig-
was,
have got

[i the tha-
can go to

less of the
jar around
tbove, lite

a canopy, through the canyon. " How splendid ! "
she cried involuntarily. For the torrent of the white
foaming water was revealed beneath ; and the rocks
of the opposite sides, with all the ferns and roots and
shrubs, sered into yellows or dull pinks, or living and
green, were bright in colour by reason of the moist-
ure ; and, above, there was a golden glow in the low
rolling cloud, as if indeed they two stood in the very
gates of the sunrise itself within those tinted clouds
that commonly lie at immeasurable distance.

" It will be ath well if Beauty will move on," said
the dwarf.

She knew now that she could not talk to him
about his own sorrows or heroism, that he would not
meet her on any equal grounds of experience or out-
look ; but in the pleasurable impulse of her own good
nature, she was incapable of pursuing her road si-
lently.

" You must be so awfully tired, leading both those
ponies. Let me try to lead one ; I'm sure I could."

The dwarf smiled the first smile she had seen
upon his face, and it reminded her of that concealed
sunbeam within the cloud, so tender it was towards
her, so selfless and so enfolded in the man's large
gravity which she did not see through or compre-
hend.

All he said was, " Beauty could not lead a pony ;
pony would danthe, and Beauty would fall over the

240 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

wocktli. Will Beauty go on atli fatht atli conwen-
ient?"

She began to go on then. She walked backwards
a few paces : her good-nature towards him was quite
overflowing. '

" I wish I could help you," she exclaimed.

"Beauty mutht go on," said the dwarf, "but per-
hapth Beauty will be kind enough to thing."

As the last word, timid and hesitating, caught her
ear, she knew it was spoken with eagerness. She did
not hesitate to try her voice again. In the elation of
her kindliness, she thought only of what she could
sing well, wishing to give him the utmost pleasure.
She remembered an old Norwegian song, which a
friend had roughly translated for her, and which,
perhaps because its words had fallen in with an epi-
sode in her own life, she knew well. As she went,
she sang it to its own native music. Some loud,
monotonous sound often gives additional strength to
the human voice, as it also appears to do to voices of
birds. This time her voice answered to her will ;
long hours in the mild air had wrought healing, as
nothing else would have done. Over the roaring of
the river her clear young voice rang out —

**It matters nothing to you and me,
Oh, friend, my lover across the sea,
Whether we marry,
Or whether we carry

THE MADONNA OF A DAY. 241

Our lovie unspoken

By sign or token

Into the distance heavenly.

**It matters much, my friend, that we love
With strength that will lift us far above
The selfish measure
Of pain and pleasure,
The transient sorrow
Of tears to-morrow ;
It matters much that we love.

*'It matters much that we live, my friend,
Life that love shapes to noblest end.
For love is given
A boon from heaven,
A burning passion,
The heart to fashion
For nobler uses to foe and friend.

** It matters much that we hope, dear heart;
Thinkest thou love hath joined to part ?
Love's tie is longer
Than earth's, and stronger.
Here or hereafter
We meet with laughter.
Hope on for ever, hope on, dear heart."

She had quite lost herself in the song ; she had
thought before that she could sing it well, but here, in
this misty morning among the mountains, with the
suffering of the last days behind her, a new strength
of meaning seemed to come back to her through the
words, and she threw it into the music of her voice.
She was walking on, bareheaded, against the rising
breeze, not thinking clearly of anything at all, but

Illl

242 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

carried away by tlie music and the romance of lier
deliverance, her mind was full of happy, half solemn
thoughts and feelings, that for the time underwent no
process, but lay still, illumining human life for her.

A sound of one of the ponies dancing and shaking
his bridle recalled her. " Mercy me ! " she thou^iit to
herself, " I almost forgot I was singing to him." She
was conscious that she had put much expression into
lier voice. " Mercy me ! " she said again, " what if he
fancies I had the slightest thought of him as I sang ? "

It was a moment before she had courage to look
around. When she did, she perceived no such thought
had entered Handsome's mind, yet she was elated to
see that her song had stirred him. There was a glow
upon his face, a return of that exultant light which
she had seen the evening before, which did not take
the place of trouble, but shone through it, as if, al-
though he knew that the joys of life were never for
him, yet he had begun to realize that there was an
inner perfection in which he could participate with
the noblest.

She turned again, and went on without speaking,
elated, and yet, at the same time, subdued.

And now the mist, which was being rolled gently
eastward, was wholly gone from their path. Coming
out of the mouth of the canyon, they could look down
a valley which, from this point, spread out like a fan
on either side, and sloped to wind-swept distance in

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

243

of lier
solemn
vent BO
[or lier.
shaking
)iight to
1." She
don into
hat if he
[ sang ? "
; to look
L thought
elated to
as a glow
tit which
not take
as if, ah
lever for
•e was an
3ate with

speaking,

ed gently
Coming
ook down
like a fan
istance in

which grey peaks again arose. Immediately in front of
tliem their road, joining with another, crossed a bridge,
and led on for a mile or so to a village of wooden
houses which was clear in sight. The river, freed
from its rock walls, ran joyously down the vallej^,
widening and calming as it went. Behind them were
green wooded mountains, rising from either side of the
canyon ; behind and above that again, the great white
mist which was rolling eastward, with the sunshine en-
tangled somewhere in its folds.

They were to mount their ponies here to ride
through the village, and the girl bethought her that,
when they reached the village, it might not be easy
again to have a quiet word with the dwarf. He was
known in the village ; he had his own reputation to
preserve perhaps, and she had hers. While he was
arranging her saddle, she put her hand into her breast,
and brought out the diamond.

He raised his head from tightening the girth of
her saddle. As she stood holding the bridle, she was
wrapping her blue drapery the tighter around her,
to prepare for the ride. Then she held the ring out
to him, and smiled.

" I would like you to take this," she said, " and
use it as you like; you have been very good to

me.

As she spoke a sunbeam came from the mist,
shifting from the eastern side of the zenith ; the sun-

Ill

ill

I III

244 THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

beam fell upon the little curly rings of her hair, and
upon the diamond.

The dwarf's face had been red with the exertion
of tightening the strap ; now it went white. She saw
his eye caught by the flash of the stone ; she saw
that he estimated its worth ; she saw, too, that for a
moment he desired it with a wholly different sort
of desire from that which the lofty sentiments she
had expressed had evoked ; indeed, she perceived
anew what the rjegradation of the man's life had
been, because the value of tlie diamond for a mo-
ment evidently transported him out of all the
region of good endeavour and beautiful thought.

Then the dwarf lifted his eyes from the stone
to her face. She had once seen a look like that —
just once. It was in an old church in France, where
she had happened to observe a dying man kneeling
before a shrine. It was a look that meant that the
eyes sought some vision by which the soul that was
in them might be steadied and fixed in the faith it
needed for salvation.

" Beauty mutht put away her wing."

It was the familiar half-childlike phrasing that
brought her back from a moment in which it seemed
to her that her soul within her had fainted, for
although she had not moved, though she felt that
the smile on her lips had hardly changed, she had
undergone a spiritual shock, and acquired some

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

245

r, and

iertion
he saw
iie saw
,t for a
!nt sort
nts slie
irceived
ife had
' a mo-
all tlie

rllt.

be stone
e that —
e, where
neeling
that the
that was
faith it

ting that
|t seemed
ited, for
Ifelt that
she had
led some

spiritual knowledge which she did not entirely com-
prehend till long afterwards.

" No, hut I give it to you," she said. " It is not
wrong for you to take it."

"Beauty mutht put away the wing. Beauty
mutht get up on the pony."

There was a note almost harsh in his command,
which she well knew was the nervous betrayal of
the pain that any effort of further persuasion would
give him.

She put away the ring, and mounted. She rode
on over the bridge, and he after her. The sunshine
came out more and more brightly upon the hills and
upon the valley. It was a mild sweet morning, the
last of the old year.

The girl rode terribly depressed ; she felt miser-
ably ashamed. The power this man's ideal of her
had over him transcended her vainest wish, and she
saw herself to be base. She remembered the lie she
had acted, even since he had befrien^^ed her. The
thought that, if she had chosen, she might have been
the noble woman that he supposed her to be was
intolerable. .

She had not attained the moral height that sees
joy in humility ; she hated it. The air was eo sweet
and fresh, the pleasure of getting back safely to some
of the customary environments of life so great, that
she rebelled against her misery of self-loathing.

246

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

It was because the impression was deep that the
tide of reaction set in full and strong. That which
makes a mark on the soul too deep ever to be effaced,
is the very force from which nature reacts — not be-
cause that nature is morbid, but because it is human
and healthy. We seldom understand that the reason
of this law is that heaven would have us conserve
the energy of our penitence for nobler deeds ; we
have not faith to believe that this natural reaction
makes for righteousness ; and so, because of our lack
of faith in God's way, we think ourselves wicked not
to dwell with sorrow, and, losing self-respect, go
on to be more wicked, refusing to dwell with .right-
eousness.

That was precisely what the girl did ; she felt
that she would have done well to mope over her own
unworthiness ; and because she could not and would
not mope, her mind for the time being gave a spring,
like a bird from a cage, away, not only from dis'tress,
but also from all tho ight of high endeavour. Long
habits of carelessness asserted themselves. In the
bottom of her heart she knew that she must return
sometime to the serious longing that had been burnt
into it, but for that hour she was the creature of past
habits.

CHAPTER XXY.

Some little birds with grey plumage were chirp-
ing by the roadside as if they thought the time for
tlie making of nests was not far off. On all sides
there was the lightsome rush of snow-rivulets danc-
ing through sloping pastures to the river. On mist-
bedewed verdure, on streams and river, the sunlight
sparkled.

Mary's heart beat high -^ith the access of life.
Just as one recovering from the pain of fever feels
that the mere joy of living is enough delight, so she,
after the brief storm of danger through which she
had laboured, felt that to take up again the thread of
ordinary life would be a new and delicious excite-
ment. She began to invent the telegrams that she
would send at once to her friends. Engrossed in
their sensational wording, she smiled frequently to
herself.

She did not intend to forget the dwarf. She
threw him a kindly sedate remark now and then, but
she refused to allow her thoughts to linger upon him,

347

248

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

irt!

because that provoked depression. It would be time
enough when she came to bid him good-bye to think
of appropriate words in which to converse with him
to some purpose. She determined to find out his
true name and address, and afterwards, through her
friends, to do him some lasting service.

So they rode on upon the ungroomed ponies. In
her short skirt Mary looked almost like a child who
had climbed upon the saddle for the sake of play.
The mischievous pleasure of inventing her telegrams
gmoothed from her round face all those lines that
told of age and experience. Even the dwarf looked
happier than perhaps since his own childhood he had
ever looked. The pain and exaltation upon his face
were for the hour blended into a hopefulness that
was almost serenity. His short misshapen figure
gave him the look of a gnome or brownie in attend-
ance upon the blithe childlike creature who rode at
his side.

As they neared the village, upon the road which,
rough as it was, bore some semblance to a high-road,
they saw three riders coming towards them. In a
minute Mary was straining her eyes to look at the
foremost rider. It was her cousin, Charlie Howard,
who had been so sad when she left Vancouver, and
who was now, no doubt, searching all this region for
her. In any mood she would probably have forgot-
ten all else in the delight of the recognition ; but just

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

241)

at the time the recognition found her, she was most
ready, because of recent reaction, to throw herself
into the present without a thought of aught else.

With a cry of delight she set her pony galloping
forward, and, as she rode, recognized another friend.
It was the missionary who had been with her in the
train.

" I am here ! " she cried. " I am here ! How
lovely of you to come and look for me ! Now that's
what I call chummy."

Her cousin was a town-bred man, with a light
moustache, and he looked wonderfully waxen and
fair compared with the men of the wilds ; but he was
a sturdy fellow for all that, and honest. The grey-
haired missionary had a stately way with him, yet he
looked at home in the wilderness.

" There, don't look at me as if you were going to
eat me up," she said. " I'm here, and I'm safe. I
nearly lost my life, and my money, and everything
else. Oh, Charlie, but I have a tale to tell that will
turn your hair grey ! Never mind now, though.
I'm safe enough, old fellow."

"While the cousins exchanged their words of al-
mosf^ysterical greeting, the dwa^f was quite out of
hearing, and when he clearly perceived that his lady
had met with friends he was in no haste to come near
her.

" He's really a most worthy little soul," said Mary

250

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

Ill

to her companions, looking back to where the dwarf
was coming. " Saved my life " — she nodded emphat-
ically. " Yes, he did. You'd have given your best
boots, Charlie, to have saved it as romantically your-
self. He used to be an awful villain, I believe ; but
you'll have to smile upon him now."

The man who was riding with them as a guide
now came near, and said a few words to Howard and
the missionary, in an undertone. He was confirming
the statement that the dwarf was a villain ; he kept
his eye apprehensively on him as he spoke.

" He's a perfect saint now," put in the girl ea-
gerly ; " if he was a villain, he's reformed. Pat him
on the back ; he's done me a good turn, anyway."

She knew perfectly well, even while she spoke,
that her words did not in any way represent her real
feeling towards the dwarf ; they did not even repre-
sent the account she intended to give her cousin later,
but they seemed to her to serve for so hasty and ex-
cited a meeting.

When the dwarf came up, Howard's words to
him were civil enough ; they had in them that tone
of superiority which is the product of civilization,
but this was not painfully obvious. The missionary
would have ridden beside him, but the girl, overflow-
ing with excited pleasure, kept both her friends at
her side talking incessantly. The dwarf could have
ridden beside them, but he did not ; he fell behind.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

251

i dwarf
jmpliat-
►ur best
ly your-
ive; but

a guicle
vard and
iifirming

lie Vept

; girl ea-
Pat him

way."

|lie spoke,
lier real

^en repre-

usin later,

ty and ex-
words to
that tone
viUzation,
missionary

_, overflow-
friends at
could have
ell behind.

The man from the village had ridden hastily back, to
tell his news. As for Mary, excitement had brought
on the most boisterous mood to which in former days
she had been prone.

" And so you came to look after me ! " she cried.
" How long have you been on the search ? I thought
I was going to be left to the wolves and the bears, for
all my friends cared."

The missionary told her that her travelling com-
panion was in the village ; she had come to every
station with them to make enquiries and to await the
result of their expeditions.

" The old brick ! I would not have believed it of
her. "Well, th£,t is one to her. And it's quite too
awfully good of you, too " — this to the missionary.
" Did you think this stray sheep wanted shepherding ?
How sweet of you! Here's Charlie now — it was
nothing more than his duty. You needn't both look
so serious, and ask such a lot of questions. Did I fall
far ? No, I didn't fall far ; I fell about ^ve feet, into
a snowdrift. Did I think I was getting out at a
station ? No, I didn't ; I was walking in my sleep.
Did the wolves and bears eat me ? No, they didn't ;
I never met one : but I fell in with as nasty a lot of
men, it seems, as there are in the country. But they
weren't so bad, after all. That encourages me to
hope that even in the infernal regions there might ^ t
some very good company. For I was scared out of

II I

illHiii
iiiiilli

'! !'

252 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

my seven senses, and bound to get off if I could ; but
then, you see, in the infernal regions, one would
know one couldn't get off, and one would have no
character to maintain, so to speak." She was a good
deal elated to think that a man of weight, such as the
missionary evidently was, had come so far for her.
She was touched, too, and grateful ; but the mere
fact that he was religious made her flippancy
more broad, because, to her falsely educated taste, it
seemed the more humorous. " And they brought
a priest, or a fellow who pretended to be a priest,
to marry me. You i.3edn't swear under your breath
like that, Charlie ; it's profane. Now, I assure you,
I haven't used a bit of bad language since I saw you
last. You see, they had some civilized notions and
primitive ideas about them, after all ; so they brought
the priest to impose on me. Oh, I wish you had seen
him. He was a beauty ! I've never been quite sure
whether he wasn't a stuffed priest, with a machine
inside wound up to do the talking. Don't swear, old
fellow ; it doesn't do any good ; if you'd been there
at the time, I'd have let you round on them as much
as ever you liked. Why, Charlie, you're looking
quite white in the face ! Take a sniff of your smell-
ing-salts, if you have any. I leave that ladylike
habit to my grandmothers. But I tell you this — it
was a farce ! I told you I hadn't been indulging in
any profane language, but I'm not at all sure that I

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

253

lid ; but

e would

have no

IS a good

ch as the
for her.

the mere

flippancy

d taste, it

Y brought

3 a priest,

our breath

issure you,

) I saw you

iOtions and

Ley brought

,u had seen
quite sure
a machine
swear, old
been there
;tn as much
ke looking
your smell-
tat ladylike
ou this— it
ndulging in
sure that 1

didn't ! You know I talked tall to them ; I talked
pi'. You should have just heard me talking pi' " —
this to the missionary. ^' They were just at that stage
when piety was the only thing they respected in a
woman, and I put it on thick."

She was under the impression that the dwarf,
riding behind, was altogether out of hearing, but,
truth to say, she forgot to make sure.

Both lier companions were startled by what she
had revealed. Their pain on her account was evi-
dent. Just as one talks hastily, sometimes, to avoid
tears, so she was talking now to avoid any expression
of sentiments too obviously called for to need expres-
sion.

They were passing between the houses, which
stood straggling not far from the road. They were
built of boards, some of them painted.

" Do they call this an hotel ? " she cried. " Do
look ! Why, it's the merest pub'. What fun ! I
never stayed at a pub' before. What is the sort of
thing you ask for? Bum — isn't that the national
drink?"

There was a wooden platform or gallery extend-
ing in front of the square, ugly hotel. No one hap-
pened to be on it. Quitv3 a large group of men and
women stood around the guide, who was telling that
the lady was found. They were near a stable, about

twenty yards away. They all stared at her now.
17

254:

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

The sense of this body of spectators, chiming in
with her excitement, made her foolishly dramatic.
Her cousin lifted her from the pony, and set her
upon the verandah. She felt that his strong arms
trembled as he did so. Beside the recklessness of
her high spirits, it was also a true womanly senti-
ment which made her wish to check that tremor in
him. She was very warm, and she began to fan her-
self with one end of her long veil.

"Now, what I want is a good stiff brandy-and-
soda," she announced, " and then half a dozen ciga-
rettes. I think I could almost smoke a pipe with you.
After that, we can settle down into ordinary hum-
drum life again. Bless you, Charlie, what are you
looking at ? "

The missionary had gone into the house to find
her friend. Mary, following the direction of her
cousin's fascinated gaze, saw that the dwarf, having
dismounted to take her pony, was standing at the edge
of the verandah, looking up at her. His broad
shoulders and sinewy frame were fixed in an attitude
of trouble, almost as if turned to stone. His head,
always so nervously posed, was thrown back, his thin
face iipturned to hers. The first look of the mourn-
ful eyes, the first expression of thiit weary troubled
face was sorrow — pure sorrow, the pang of an ex-
ceeding great disappointment ; and then, as they
looked, the soul that could feel sorrow died out of

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

255

ming in
ramatic.
Bet her
ng arms
xsue&s of
ily senti-
;reinor in
» fan her-

•

mdy-and-
izen ciga-
with you.
lary harn-
t are you

^e to find
^n of her
'f, having
the edge
[is broad
attitude
LTis head,
:, his thin
je mourn-
troubled
lof an ex-
as they
td out of

the face, as certainly as if the man himself had died
before them. A minute more, and he was the low '
cynical fellow that he had been when she first knew
him — and worse than that, for there was a scowl
upon his face which meant — she feared to think what
it meant.

" I think that fellow is a sort of a devil," said her
cousin, when the dwarf had taken her pony and was
gone.

The girl did not answer him ; she had no further
word at that time for him or for herself, no further
gesture for the interested spectators. With her head
bowed, as if with utter fatigue, she went into the
house ; and when she found her friend, she said —

" Let me lie upon a bed somewhere ; let me rest."

So they left her alone, as they thought, to sleep ;
but she lay crouching, shivering with a new distress,
thinking of the dwarf's face and all that from first to
last she had read in it.

till IIMlilliM I

CHAPTEE XXVI.

As the day wore on, Mary came out from her
room. She did not betray her trouble of heart. She
was not sufficiently familiar with trouble to find nat-
ural expression for it. She asked for the dwarf, but
no one could find him.

Her cousin was joyful in her safety; even her
friend was voluble. The missionary was preaching in
a church near by. Evening came ; they dined and re-
tired, but Mary did not rest.

At eleven o'clock she returned to the door of the
small sitting-room, and looked in. It was a bare room,
furnished in horse-hair, and perfumed with the ghost
of many a cheaply-filled pipe. There was only one
person in it. Charlie Howard was sitting on a sofa,
sitting apparently doing nothing. His face looked
haggard, almost aghast ; and when he saw her at the
door his expression did not relax, but he rose as if she
must be in need of his help.

" Don't get up," she said. " I thought I had
heard you come in."

256

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

257

rom lier
irt. She
find nat-
warf , but

even her

^aching in

d and re-

or of the
are room,
he ghost
only one
m a sofa,
ie looked
ler at the
as if she

lit I had

She shut the door, and sat down on one of the
horse-hair chairs, as if his having come in was a suffi-
cient reason for her action.

" I thought you were in bed," he said, with a touch
of irritation. " What's the good of our staying here a
night if you don't rest ? "

" What are you looking so cut-up for ? " she asked.
" You were as jolly as possible at dinner. That was
why I came down. I thought you would cheer me
up. Charlie, I'm frightfully in the blues ; but I
thought you were jolly."

" You are tired ; that's all that's the matter with
you. You know no more what sort of people you've
been with than a child, and now you'd better go to
bed and sleep off your tiredness like a child. Go to
bed, Polly. I'm in dead earnest. Your friend's goiie
to bed, and you ought to be with her."

" Bless me ! " — she tried to put on an air of spright-
liness — " is the spirit of my grandfather abroad ? "

" Don't ! " He spoke irritably. He sat down
upon the small hard sofa, and dropped his face in his
hands.

" What is it ? " she asked quite j^-ntly.

He did not raise his face fo^ '^ minute, and when
he did there was a redne^ . about his eyes, a look of
constrained feeling in the boyish features, which told
her that he had undergone some shock.

She got up and stood by the bare centre table.

258

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

" Charlie, you must tell me ; you shall tell me.
What's come over you since dinner ? You frighten
me ; you must tell me."

" It's nothing." He spoke with the irritation of
nervous pain. " There's nothing for yoii to he
frightened at, I tell you."

" I will make you tell me." She spoke with in-
tense will.

" It's only that when I was out I saw " — he made
a gesture that was like a shudder of disgust, and
then — " that brute," he muttered between his teeth.

" Who ? " she asked sharply.

He sat looking at the floor, as if seeing something
with his mental eye which he could not endure to see.
After a minute he pulled himself together, and said,
with an effort at pretended indifference —

"I only meant that I had happened to come
across that little cur who brought you in this
morning."

She put her hand up to her eyes as if suddenly
remembering the pain that the long weeping of the
morning had wrought in them. She did not propose
to weep now ; she only pressed her fingers upon the
heavy eyelids. The young man did not see the ges-
ture ; he was not looking at her.

He spoke again between his teeth. " Yes, I have
seen him. I never knew before what a satanic beast
a man could make of himself. Oh "

TJIE MADONNA OF A DAY.

259

The last expletive had been almost a groan ; now
he nervously hung his head, as if bearing some part
of the shame that every wretch brings upon his
race.

After a minute she said, " Why does it hurt you
so ? It hurts me — I don't know why, but it nearly
kills me to hear what you're saying. I suppose you
mean that he's gone on the spree since the morning.
They call him Handsome — poor Handsome."

The weariness in her voice, the depth of its pity,
startled him ; he sat up suddenly.

" Poor ! " — he was speaking again between his
teeth — "poor! you've not the slightest conception
what he's been doing. I pray God you never may
have ; but don't call him ' poor.' " A harsh nervous
laugh came now, that ended in the sort of shudder
she had seen before. "Keep your pity for your-
self. When I think — when I think that you have
been in his clutches — in the clutches of him and
his like "

He turned his face from her. She saw that he'
was very nearly moved to tears. She knew that for-
merly his susceptibility to emotion had amused her,
but now it was not the tendency to laughter which
she felt she had to restrain.

"Charlie, if you show such a tremendous lot of
fresh fatherly feeling for me I shall be quite fasci-
nated. One has only to fall by the wayside among

260

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

I I

liilll
Hi

thieves to know the value of fellow-feeling." Her
voice changed, there was a dreary, nervous ring in it.
** But if you only knew it, it is not on me that you
need waste your pity — not on nie ; but on the man
that you are calling a brute, and a cur, and a beast."
Iler face had become white, her lips trembled. " I
don't know what he's been doing to-day — I don't
want to ; but I tell you this — if I were " — she stopped
— " something — I don't exactly know what, but some-
thing better than I am, that man would have left his
husks and his swine behind him as entirely as any re-
turned prodigal ever did. You may not believe what
I say, but I know it is true, because I saw it with
my eyes; and all those other men that I was with
are just like him in that — they could be turned
into any sort of beautiful thing that one chose, if
there were women to do it, and the women were
angels."

He was listening to her now with considerable
astonishment, but with no incredulity; there was
nothing of that in his character.

" But the worst of it is, Charlie — this is what wor-
ries me — I don't honestly know what I have done
that is wrong. !N"ow don't preach ! " She said the
last words looking, not at the emotional face of the
young man, but at the missionary, who had come into
the room listening to her words as he came. " Don't
preach," she said. "I do not believe in the little

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

261

hunidrum rules and regulations that men make for
women ; and I should be as mean and sliabby if I
conformed to what I do not believe in, as any heretic
who recanted just to escape being burned."

The missionary had not seen or heard of the
dwarf. His mind was serene.

"Certainly," said he; "certainly, such rules are
not essential."

Charlie turned upon him with a look of scorn,
that scorn which youth in its high-strung moods al-
ways has for the casual moods of even heroes or
saints. Then he said, with what was for him an im-
mense amount of courage —

" There is no use in your calling rules and regu-
lations humdrum, Polly ; if you only knew it, there
isn't a fellow in the world who would not admire
you a great deal more if you gave up all this new-
fangled rot."

The missionary's eyes twinkled. They were grey
deep-set eyes ; they could do a good deal of twinkling
under the grey eyebrows that was not obvious, but
the girl happened to catch his glance, and answered
it sadly.

" As I value freedom much more than that sort
of admiration, the dear boy's words are not to the
point," she said, "but his sentiment is all right.
What be means to say is, that if something in me
were different from what it is, one human being

I!li|iiii

2G2

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

ulio was evolving on to a higher plane need not
have fallen back into the beast."

She sat down and put her elbows upon the table.
The frock that her friend had lent her was too large,
and the sleeves fell back from her white wrists. She
leaned her chin upon her hands, and looked at the
missionary. There was nothing now of that vibrating
pathos in her voice which had pierced the hearts of
her persecutors when she turned at bay, because she
had no thought now of the effect of her speech upon
her hearers — the hard dull tone of self-absorbed
trouble was hers.

" It is only one man," she said, " one little mis-
shapen man ; but he was my friend, and he's lost. I
never knew what on earth you missionaries meant
when you talked about a soul being lost, before.
Now I know, for I've seen it. It does not mean
any rubbish about St. Peter and the keys, but it
means something that, when you've seen it, haunts
you all the rest of your life."

For a moment she looked at the stained garish
wall-paper as if the dreary future that stretched
before her were as hopeless a sight.

" And the thing, you know, that makes my pres-
ent frame of mind so tiresome is that I really don't
know exactly what to repent of. If I could see
some reformation to accomplish in myself, that would
be almost satisfying, but I am sure my way of look-

m i

TIIK MADONNA OF A DAY.

2(i3

tied not

le table.
30 large,
,t8. She
d at the
nbrating
learts of
;aiise she
ecli upon
■absorbed

little mis-
8 lost. I
es meant
t, before,
ot mean
^^s, but it
kt, liaunts

led garish
stretched

my pres-
lally don't
Icould see

\at would
of look-

ing at things has always been the most sensible.
And as for humbugging those men by talking pi'
— it was their fault for requiring it."

" Naturally you are satisfied with yourself " — he
spoke in a consoling voice — " having no standard
higher than your own opinion."

" I can have a high standard without being
pious," she said defiantly. " These backwoodsmen
are simply behind the times. They wore brought up
to associate what Charlie calls * new-fangled notions'
in woman with the loss of goodness, just as it used
to be supposed that sunlight put out fire. Had they
lived in the last ten years they would have learned
to distinguish between fact and superstition. That
explains most of it." Iler voice lingered difiidently
upon the word " most."

"It doesn't explain it all," said Charlie, impa-
tient and authoritative. " I'm not given to religion
myself, but I must say I think a woman ought to
be religious."

"Even your sentiments have a f:lse ring now,"
she answered.

" Well, I mean — I dare say men would be the
better for being religious too."

" You think that you would be the better for
something within your reach that you don't try to
get. That, at least, is a depth of degradation to which
I never sank." The steady contempt of her voice

264

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

li
ill

.ill

entirely confused him. " Charlie, it is just that pure
unadulterated idiotic rubbish that you're talking that
is enough to make every sensible woman a free-
thinker in religion, and custom, and everj^thing else.
Now tell me ! " — she turned to the missionary — " tell
me why, to fetch those men, I was forced to be
pious."

The missionary was standing with his bac^ , against
the wall ; he looked down at her, speaking as if to a
friend.

" Don't you see that if you invent your own
ideal it must vary as you vary with every phase of
thought? Piety involves a standard of beautiful
character entirely outside yourself, and higher up.
What you may be without this perfect standard,
those men could only guess at ; and evil minds will
always guess at evil. "What you must be, if genu-
inely religious, all have some dim notion of. It is
this holy ideal reflected in good women that men
worship in such sort that they can subdue selfishness
in its presence. Without It" — he looked down at
her with a kindly smile — " you are like an eclipsed
moon, lit by no ray of higher light. You are not
worthy of such worship as this. The isort of worship
men ^.an give you is such as the glutton gives to his
food, the miser to .lis gold, the artist to his thing
^f beauty — for which he will barter the world,
truly, but only that he may indulge himself. You

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

2C5

that pure
Iking tliat
Q a free-
thing else,
iry— " tell
ced to be

ic^ . against
T as if to a

your own
[•y phase of
f beautiful
higher up.
it standard,
minds will
•e, if genu-
\ of. It is
that men
|e selfishness
id down at
an eclipsed
on are not
of worship
gives to his
|o his thing
the world,
Inself. You

are nothing more tlipu an object of selfish delight;
and, except for a little while, in some society
whose laws have been made in deference to holy
women, nothing can save you from becoming the
victim of man's selfishness, because he is stronger
than you."

'' It is modern progress, not Christianity, that has
raised women," she said. No troubled soul ever re-
peated its creed more sincerely.

He smiled shrewdly. " Poes progress reign in any
land where woman has not derived her strength and
beauty from the imitation of tlie Christian ideal ? Has
there been any distinct progress in any nation which
has not exaltea woman for the sake of the Christ and
his mother ? "

"It is only since we began to shake ourselves free
from the superstitions of religion that we have hegun
to have laws that are just to women." She spoke
eagerly. " And there is much to do yet to make them
just."

" There is much to do yet to make laws just to
women, because the germ of the ideal higher life
develops very slowly in Christian nations ; we are
only by degrees learning that the holy woman he^s her
place, not only in the Church or at the hearth, but in
the market-place, in the court of law, in the chambers
of government. In all these places, wherever God's
voice is calling women to serve their fellow-creatures

!! i

266 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

— there, if they serve also this high ideal, men will in
all respects become their unselfish allies."

She looked at him with kindliness, but there was
no lifting of the cloud of trouble from her face.

** Considering that you are a missionary, and can't
help preaching, you speak very fairly ; but " — she gave
a gesture of restless pain — " these ideals have been
created by the developing moral consciousness of the
world, not sent down from heaven, and we are now
|j|j{i|i ready for a much higher ideal than nineteen hundred

years ago. We want to get rid of the superstitions
that grew up then."

" I think, fair lady " — he spoke quaintly — " that
what you call the moral consciousness o the race is
the outcome of man's dealing with the spirit of God,
is indeed that very kingdom of Heaven which is
within us : but if, as you think, the religious conscious-
ness is nothing more than moral development plus
superstitions that drop off as the race grows older, still
my argument does not alter. You believe that the
ideal p-iven us in the Gospels was the highest outcome
of the moral consciousness of mankind in its then de-
velopment : I say that — if only to subdue the selfish-
ness in men — there is need that women should still
conform to this same ideal — higher and holier if you
will by nineteen hundred years, because as we rise in
the moral scale our interpretation of the ideal must
rise. If you take from it the Divine inspiration that

TEIE MADONNA OF A DAY.

267

!Ti will in

:liere was
ace.

and can't
—she gave
lave been
3SS of the
s are now
ti hundred
perstitions

tly— " that
the race is
t of God,
which is
conscions-
ment plus
older, still
e that the
,t outcome
is then de-
;he selfish-
lould still
|ier if you
Iwe rise in
deal must
lation that

you call the supernatural, you only take from yourself
any Divine help in attaining to it. You cannot by re-
moving the supernatural element lower the ideal. The
ideal which the moral consciousness of the race has
once developed must grow : it may be seen first on
one side and then upon another, but at heart it can
not change ; if it did there would be no law of progress,
evolution would be impossible."

She rose with an incredulous laugh, and, having
risen, she felt no relief from the movement and hoped
for none by leaving the room. There were rude
noises to be heard outside the house — noises of drunk-
ards passing by. She went to the window, peeping
from the blind in mere idleness ; then, sickened at the
thought of whom she might see, she turned in a mo-
ment, and, out of mere irritation, took up St. Paul
upon the theme of women, and hurled it at her com-
panions.

" Whose writing has done more to retard the
cause of women ? " she asked fiercely.

" It is not St. Paul's fault if many of his follow-
ers have misapplied teaching fitting to one short age."

*' Do you admit " — she was surprised into an al-
most joyful laugh- -" do you admit that the greater
number of Christian'} are fools ? "

" Say rather, silly sheep, obstinately straying after
any leaders who, to save the expense of constant
thought and new decisioiis foi each fresh phase of

268

THE MADONNA OP A DAY.

ill I

circumstance, teach that piety consists in some old
rule of life, rather than in that attitude of the soul
which ever seeks fresh wisdom from above."

She felt very restless. In the sounds without she
fancied she heard some hideous scene connected with
the debauch of the dwarf. She turned towards her
friends, who remained passively watching her, with a
sense of supreme relief, almost of affection for them
both in the knowledge that each in his own good
way was good to the heart's core.

" Could your ideal woman treat men as if she and
they were rational creatures, instead of being herself
an idiotic piece of respectability, like our old-fash-
ioned women ? " She was speaking only in idle de-
fiance.

He went on answering with a quaint good humour
which betokened the inward peace that perplexed
her.

"If you give your heart to Heaven, fair lady,
that heart will be your surest guide ; but if you ask
my opinion, I would say there is nothing that a good
man may do that a good woman may not do also."

She began to speak, but stopped suddenly.

A wild yell below the window, the sound of many
feet and voices, of howls and execrations mingling
all at once together caused her heart to sink in an
awful fear of some unknown deed of violence. The
men sprang to the window, throwing it open to look

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

2G9

me old
tie soul

lout slie
ted with
ards her
r, with a
for them
wn good

if she and
i(T herself
: old-fash-
in idle de-

od humour
perplexed

fair lady,
if you ask

that a good

[o also."

lid of many
|s mingling
sink in an
lence. The
Ipen to look

down on the scene beneath. Then, conscious that
they attracted attention, they extinguished the lamp.

Nothing of importance, nothing more than usual
riot was taking place. A gambling den had dis-
charged its occupants, who on their way homeward
had fallen out with one another. The dwarf was not
among them, but in Mary's imaginative fear he was
there.

She did not go to the window. The cool night
air rushed in ; she saw the dark figures of her friends
dimly outlined against the gleam of lanterns passing
without. She held by a chair for support, trem-
bling, faint, heartsick. She said to herself that her
nerves were unstrung by the scenes ihrough which
she had passed. She clenched her teeth in the effort
to master the panic of her heart. She heard a
drunken woman screaming, swearing, fighting as it
seemed. She knew now that once and for ever it
had been branded upon her imagination what it
might be like to be dragged down to the hell from
out of which this woman shrieked. Kever, never
again could she hear such a sound without feeling
this passion of fear and pity. There was no im-
pulse in her as yet to help. She only cowered before
the vivid realization of this hour as before some
spectre which had suddenly manifested itself. Yet
she found she was still straining her ears for a sound

which, even in this moment of abject misery, could
18

lis::'

270 THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

increase her pain. She sought, as it were, among the
confused howlings for the voice of Handsome. So
acute did her hearing become that she seemed to
count the men who were below by their voices — to
be able to estimate the degree of beastliness into
which eacli drunken wretch had fallen. She did not
hear the voice she listened for, but for Ilandsome's
sake, it was pity only that she felt for these men.
She knew now that never, never again could she see
a man degraded from man's estate without knowing
that women might have held him up, nay, rather,
exalted him, had women been pure enough to
do the work that was given them to do. She felt
chill with a sense of responsibility, which she feared
was a shadow from which she could never escape.
She pressed her hands upon her eyes, as if to ex-
tinguish the thought, and then suddenly, against the
darkness, a face, lit by the light of the past morn-
ing, flashed before her burning brain. It was the
face of the dwarf, in his exultation over bringing her
safely on her journey, in his wistful effort to refuse
the diamond, seeking strength and comfort by an
adoring gaze upon her own beauty. For a moment,
III by a freak of the excited brain, she stood again face

to face with him.

" Handsome," she moaned, " poor Handsome ! "
And then, in the darkness, she sank kneeling, in a
passion of tears that for the time brought relief.

THE MADONNA OF A DAY.

imong the
;ome. So
eemed to
voices — to
iness into
lie did not
andsome's
liese men.
lid she see
; knowing
ty, rather,
nough to
She felt
she feared
er escape.
5 if to ex-
-gainst the
Dast morn-
.t was the
inging her
; to refuse
Port by an
a moment,
again face

271

Her two friends, with their heads outside the win-
dow, were speaking to one another.

"I thought they might have risen up to catch
and lynch him," said Charlie. He was speaking
about the dwarf to the missionary.

But the other answered didactically, " It is more
often in books than in real life that wickedness
comes to a speedy end. It drags out a long course
of misery here, as if to teach us that in this life, or
in any other, sin can find no easy stopping-place."

The next day another year had begun, and these
travellers set out perforce upon another stage of their
journey.

THE END.

mdsome ! "
eling, in a
elief.

i
r

|i;

II,-:

I'll-

.,;„...

'■II

iili: .J,.

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18. This Mortal Coil. By Grant Allen.

19. A Fair Emigrant. By Rosa Mulholland.

20. The Apostate. By Ernest Daudet.

21. Raleigh Westgate ; or, Epimenides in Maine. By Helen Kendkick Johnson.

22. Arius the lAoyan. A Romance of the Primitive Church.

23. Constance^ and CalboVs Rival. By Julian Hawthorne.

24. We Two. By Edna Lyall.

26. A Dreamer of Dreams. By the author of Thoth.

26. The Ladies' Gallery. By Justin McCarthy and Mrs. Campbell-Prabd.

27. The Reproach of Annesley. By Maxwell Gray.

28. Near to Happiness.

29. In the Wire Grass. By Louis Pendleton.
80. iMce. A Berlin Romance. By Paul Lindau.
30^. The Black Poodle. By F. Anstby.

31. American Coin. A Novel. By the author of Aristocracy.

32. Won by Waiting. By Edna Ltall.

83. The Story of Helen Davenant. By Violet Fane.

84. Ths Light of Her Countenance-. By H. H. Boyesen.
36. Mistress Beatrice Cope. My M. E. Lb Clbec.

86. The Knight-Errant. By Edna Lyall.

87. In the Golden Days. By Edna Lyall.

38. Giraldi ; or, The Curse of Love. By Ross George DbbiNv"'.
89. A Hardy Norseman. By Edna Lyall.

40. The Romance of Jenny Ilarlowe, and Sketches of Maritime Life. By W.

Clark Russell.

41. Passion's Slave. By Richard Ashb-Kino.

42. The Awakening of Mary Fenwick. By Beatrice Whitby.

43. Countess Loreley. Translated from the German of Rudolf Mbkobr.

44. Blind Love. By Wilkie Collins.

46. The Dean's Daughter. By Sophie F. F. Veitch.

46. Countess Irene. A Romance of Austrian Life. By J. Fogbrty.

47. Robert Broivrdno's Principal Shorter Poems. «

48. Frozen Hearts. By G. Webb Appleton.

49. l^ambek the Georgian. By A. G. von Suttner.

50. The Crazeof Christian Engdhart. By Henry Faulkner Darnell.

51. Lai. By William A. Hammond, M. D.

52. Aline. A Novel. By Henry Gr^villb.

53. Joost Avelingh. A Dutch Story. By Maarten Maartbnb.

54. Katy of Catoctin. By George Alfred Townsend.

55. Throchmorton. A?''"tvel. By Molly Elliot Ska wkuj.

56. ExpatHation. By the author of Aristocracy.

57. Oeqffrey Ham,pstead. By T. S. Jabyib.

APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.— (Continued.)

58.

60.

61.

62.

63.

64.

fXi.

06.

67.

68.

69.

70.

71.

72.

73.

74.

75.

76.

77.

78.

79.

83.

frJ.

85.

i, i 86.

Ill ■ ' 87.

!i 88.

: ■ 89.

!l!l ■•■ 90.

91.

i 98.

1 98.

Ii'; 94.

!'!' 95.

,i; ..; 96.

97.

98.

99.

100.

101.

102.

103.

104.

105.

■'i

i 1

206.

iij

107.

,;i

108.

109.

110.

' ' 1101

111.

112.

113.

iiii

114.

III

1 1

115.

III

1 1

116.

ffl!'

iii

117.

■';!

118.

119.

WO.

li*

Dmitri. A Romance of Old RupbIh. By P. W. Bain, M. A.
Part qf the I*roperty. By Bkatkick Whitby.
liitmarck in Private Life. By a Fellow-Student.
In Loiv JielUf. By Moklet Kobeuth.

The Canadians oj Old. A IliHtorical Komance. By Philippe Gabp4.
A Squire of Low Degree. By Lily A. Long.
A Fluttered Dovecote. By Ukokoe Manville Fenn.
The NvgejUa of Carriconna. An Irlnh Htory. By TiaUE Hopkins.
A Senmive Plant. By E. and D. (iKKABu.

Doila Lnz. By Juan Valkua, Trannlated hy Mre. Mauy J. Seriiano.
Peidta Ximenez. By Juan Valeba. TrauHlated by M-b. Mauy J. Heukano.
Thii I'rirme and their Ntighbors. By Kicuaku Malcolm Johnston.
The Iron Game. By Henry F. Keen an.
Stories qf Old New Spain. By Thomas A. Janvier.
The Maid of Honor. By Hon, Lewis Winofikld.
In the Heart of ttie Stortn. By Maxwell Gray.
Consemtences. By Euerton Cahtle.
The Three Miss Kings. By Ada Cambridge.
A Matter of Skill. By Beatrice Whitby.
Maid Marian, and Other Stories. By Molly Elliot Seawell.
One Woman's Way. By Edmund Pendleton.
A Merciful Divorce. Bv P. W. Maude.
Stephen EllicotVs Daughter, By Mrs. J. H. Needell.
One Reason Why. By Beatrice Whitby.
The Tragedy oj Ida Noble. By W. Clark Rupbell.
The Johnstovm Stage, and other Stories, By Robert II. Fletcher.
A Widower Indeed. By Rhoda Brouohtok and Elliabeth Bisland.
The Flight of a Shadow. By Geor(»e M acDonald.
Love or Money. By KATUAnmE Lee.
Not All in Vain. By Ada Cambridge.
It Happened Yesterday. By Frederick Marshall.
My Guardian. Bv Ada Cambridge.
27ie Story of Philip Methuen. By Mrs. J. H. Needell.
Amethyst : The Story of a Beauty. By Christabel R. Colebidgb.
Don Braulio. By Juan Valera. Translated by Clara Bell.
The Chronicles of Mr. Bill \Mlliams. By Richard Malcolm Johnston.
A Queen qf Curds and Cream. By Dorothea Gebabd.
" La Bella " and Others. By Egerton Castle.
*' December Poses.'''' By Mrs. Campbell- Pbaec,
Jean de Kerdren. By Jeanne Schultz.
FAelka's Vow. By Dorothea Gerard.
Cross Currents. By Mary A. Dickens.
His Life's Magnet. By Theodora Elmslie.
Passing tfie Love of y\/omen. By Mrs. J. H. Needell.
In Old St. Stephen''s. By Jeanie Drake.

The Berkeley s and their Neighbors. By Molly Elliot Seawell.
Mona Maclean, Medical Student. By Graham Travbbs.
Mrs. Bligh. By Rhoda Broughton.
A Stumble on the Threshold. By James Patn.
Hanging Moss. By Paul Lindau.
A Comedy of Elopement. By Christian Retd.
In the Suntinie of her Youth. By Beatrice Whitby.
Stories in Black and White. By Thomas Hardy and Others.
. An Englishman in Paris. Notes and Recollections.
Commander Mendoza. By Juan Valera.
Dr. PauWs Theory. ^ Mrs. A. M. Diehl.
Children of Destiny. By Molly Elliot Seawell.
A Little Minx. By Ada Cambridge.
CapVn Davy's Honeyrtioon. By Hall Cainb.
ITie Voice of a Flower. By E. Gerard.
Singularly Deluded. By Sarah Grand.
Susjjected. By Louisa Stbatenus.
Lucia, Hugh and Another. By Mrs. J. H. Needell.
Th* TuU/re Secret. Ey Victor Chebbuliez.

Continued.)

PK OASPfc.

OPKIKB.

J. Seiiiiano.

AIIY J. 8EUKAN0.
loUNBTON.

BIX.

.KTcnEn.

U BiSLAND.

LEBIDGB.

^M Johnston.

lWELL.

21.

22.
23.
5M.
liT).
2«5.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
82.
Xi.
.3-4.
36.
3«.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
40.
47.
48.
49.
50.
.51.
52.

.5;^.

^.
55.
15G.
57.
58.
59.
CO.
01.
62.
03.
64.
65.
66.
67.
68.
69.
70.
71.
72.
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
79.
80.
81.
82.
83.
84.

APPLET0N8' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRAHY. -(Continued.)

From the Five Rivers. By Mrs. F. i... Strel.

An Innocent lm}H)Htor, and Other Stories. By Maxwell Gray.

Idealu. By Sakaii Grand.

A Comedy of Mmks. By Kunkst Dowbon and Abtbur Moobi.

Itdics. By 't'uANrES Mac'Nab.

DoUo : A Detail of the Day. By E. F. Benson.

A Woman of Forty. By Khm^ Stuaiit.

IHana Tempest. By Maby Cuolmondeley.

The Itecipifor IHar/ionds. By C. J. Cutcliffk IIynb.

Christina Chard. By Mrs. (,'amphell-I'raki).

A Gray Eye or So. By Frank Fkankfort Muorb.

Earlscourt. By Ale.xander Allardyce.

A Muniage Ceremony. By Ada CamiiRidoe.

A Ward in Chancery. By Mth. Alexander.

Lot IS, By DoROTUEA Gerard.

Our Manifold Nature. By Sarah Grand.

A Costly Freak. By Maxwell Gray.

A Beginner. By Khoda BRouauxoN.

A Ydlow Aster. By Mrs. Manninoton CAFrTN (" Iota").

The ItuMcon. By E. F. Benson.

The Trespasser. By Gilbert Parker.

The Rich Misn liiddell. By Dorothea Gerard.

Mary Fenwick^s Daughter. By I.eatrice Whitby.

Red Diatmmds. By .iusTiN McCarthy.

A Daughter of Music. By G. Colmorb.

Outlaw and Lawmaker. By Mrs. Campbell-Praed.

Dr. Janet of Harley Street. By Arabella Kenealt.

George Mandeville'^s Uusband. By C. E. Kaimond.

Vashti and Esther.

Timar's Two Worlds. By M. Jokai.

A VtCtim of Good Luck. By W. E. Norrib.

The Trail of the Sword. By Gilbert Parkeb.

A Mild Barbarian. By Edoar Fawcett.

The God in the Car. By Anthony Hope.

Children of Circumstance. By Mrs. M. Cafftn.

At the Gate of Samaria. By William J. Locke.

The Justification of Andrew I^ebrun. By Frank Barrett.

Dust and iMicrels. By Mary L. Pendehed.

The Good Ship Mohock. By W. Clark Russell.

Noemi. By S. Baring-Gould.

The Honour of Savelli. By 6. Levett Yeats.

Kitty's Engagement. By Florence Warden.

The Mermaid. By L. Douoall.

An Arranged Marriage. By Dorothea Gerard.

Eve''s Ransom. By George Gissing.

The Marriage of Esther. By Gut Boothby.

Fidelis. By Ada Cambridge.

Into the Highways and Hedges. By F. F. Montr^sor.

The Vengeance of James Vansittart. By Mrs. J. H. Needell.

A Study in Prejudices. By George Paston.

The Mistress of Quest. By Adeline Sergeant.

In the Year of Juinlee. By George Gissing.

In Old New England. By IIezekiah Butterwortu.

Mrs. Musgrave — and Her Husband. By R. Marsh.

Not Counting the Cost. By Tasma.

Out of Due Season. By Adeline Sergeant.

Scylla or Charybdisf By Rhoda Brougiiton.

In Defiance of the King. By C. C. Hotchkiss.

A Bid for Fortune. By Guy Boothby.

The King of Andaman. By J. Maclaren Cobban.

Mrs. lYegaskiss. By Mrs. Campbell-Praed.

The Desire of the Moth. By Capel Vane.

A Self-Denytnq Ordinance. By M. Hamilton.

Successors to the Title. By Mrs. L. B. Walfobd.

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APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.- (6'on«»w«rf.)

185. The Lost Stradivarim. By J. Mbadk Falkmbr.

186. The Wrong Man. By Dorotuka Geraru.

187. Jn the Day of AUverHty. By J. Bloundellb-Burton.

188. Mistress Itorothy Marvin. By J. C. Snaith.
18a. A Flash of Summer. By Mrs. W. K. Clifford.

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GEORG EBERS'S ROMANCES.

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In the Blue Pike. A Romance of German Life In the early Sixteenth Century.
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In the Pire of the Forere. A Romance of Old Nuremberg. Translated by

Mary J, Safford. 2 volumes.

Cleopatra. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 2 volumes.

A Thorny Path. (Per Aspera.) Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

An Egyptian Prinoess. Translated by Eleanor Grove. 2 volumes.

TTarda. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

Homo Sum. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume.

The Sisters. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume.

A Question. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

The Emperor. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

The Burgromaster's Wife. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

A Word, only a Word. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

Serapis. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume.

The Bride of the Nile. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

Margrery. (Gred.) Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

Joshua. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

The Elixir, and Other Tales. Translated by Mrs. Edward H. Bell.
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" Georg Ebers writes stories of ancient times with the conscientiousness of a
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For sale by all booksellers ; or sent by mail on receipt of price by tfu publishera.
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; Continued.)

00.

CES.

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Sixteenth Century,
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ILL. 2 volumes.
2 volames.

ORD. 1 volume.
D. 1 volume.

umes.

>WARD H. Bell.

ly equaled by any
1 the scenes move

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Urtions of them
Is of hietorles in-

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INS.

TV. His

,i.lac Sunbon-
i2mo. Cloth,

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The lights and
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of humor, and
on to literature.
ackle Alick— are
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and sympathetic

lird edition.

rds that thrill and
ire fragments of the
od of rubies and the
I's grasp."--^''*''"*

to the reader for its
^yxas^tivcr— Boston

lated by the writer's

ixth edition.

Ll.oksome, sunshiny
Es merely a good and
fen written this year,

^ the growth of love
less and a freshness,
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I It is a pastoral, an
Ig man J.nd a lovely
Ir, with such playful
ft nothing more could

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■1 . .iJ.

ONS.

ELS.

'. An Epi'

RANE. I2mO.

sajr, and conse-
af Courage ' Mr.
picture that chal-
:rre et la Paix ' or

lo searching in its
he Red Badge of
ess of battle. . . .

els that.^with per-
ire have been the

rhen once you are

scenes. . . . Mr.

s power of realiza-

the vivid, uncom-
ely mingled condi-
dded to American
n its own peculiar

rell depicted. . . .

color, movement,

I Kipling has done

Romance of

HOTCHKISS.

into the night to
3usly true picture

V.merican to Hush
lart ; and it fairly

scenes described.
'hicago Evening

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nent in fiction of

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** A better book than ' The Prisoner of Zenda.* "— London Quttn.

n^HE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO,

•* By Anthony Hope, author of "The God in the Car," *' The

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V* «o.> 1 ^

^<**

DNS.

ndon Queen,

\NTONIO,

e Car," '* The

rontispiece by

3th, 1 1. 50.

lose of Antonio of
?se pulses still stir
. . . . I'be chron*
rritten." — London

!ep order. ... In
trie that Mr. Hope
ite, the style more
ly, but with great
ingly pleasaat"—

incy of hi« former
^ exaltationi of the

" — London Daily

I many days. The
:d in these ' Chron-
kred even by Wey-

larrated in true ro-

ire not merely pic-

from the canvas."

gic touch of a man
curally and rapidly

Wonderfully strong,
Scston Advertiser.

>unt Antonio. . . .
to hold his readers

nen to tingle with
sses himself, as he
^€Vi York Spirit 0/

Avenue