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Other Books by Alexander Black 
 
 Modern Daughters. Conversations with 
 Various American Girls and One Man. 
 Fully illustrated from Photographs taken by 
 the Author. 8vo ^2- 50 
 
 Miss America. Pen and Camera Sketches 
 of the American Girl. With 75 illustra- 
 tions. 8vo #2.50 
 
 A Capital Courtship. Illustrated from 
 the Author's Camera. i2mo . . ^i.oo 
 
 Miss Jerry. A Love Story. Illustrated 
 from the Author's Camera. Neiv Edition. 
 i2mo ^i.oo 
 
 Charles Scribner's Sons, Publishers 
 
IVITH ILLUSTRATIO'KS 
 "BY THE ^UTHOT{ 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK . . . MDCCCC 
 
 r^\.-A. r. 
 
(mi 47 
 
 Copyright, igoo, hy 
 
 
 Charles Scribner's Sons 
 
 All rights reser-ved 
 
 Library of Congress 
 
 Two CopjR Received 
 
 OCT 13 i9au 
 
 FRST COf Y. 
 
 !AN 7 1901 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON 
 AND SON . CAMBRIDGE . U. S. A. 
 
 ./-5'7?^ 
 
 Q Cf 
 
Frontispiece Facing Title 
 
 Facing Page 
 
 *' Amanda Maud had a book in her lap " . . 2 
 
 ** * Did you know the soldier?' " . . . , 8 
 
 "The thought of Barton would not be put 
 
 away " 12 
 
 ** < Nothing has happened to Edith? ' " — . . 28 
 
 *<*I will promise not to sit on the table any 
 
 more ' " 40 
 
 ** *Now, be calm for a moment. Barton "' . 44 
 
 " * Don' t speak ! ' she commanded tremulously * ' 52 
 " When he had sketched her in the green vista 
 
 of the valley " 60 
 
 ** Yes, it was Marcus Hadleigh " .... 64 
 
 ** < What are you doing with your gun? ' " . 72 
 
 " * It 's all right, Joe, I'm the real thing ' " . 86 
 
 Amanda, you ain't got no patriotism in 
 
 you' " 98 
 
 vii 
 
 (( ( 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Facing Page 
 
 * Hadleigh's face was bending over him" . . io8 
 
 * The train worried and sickened him " . . 1 1 o 
 
 * It was like trying to forget his fever *' . . 120 
 
 * But she had passed down the stair" . . . 125 
 
 * Re-reading a letter from Joe " 130 
 
 ** You needn't 'a* been so rough, Amanda! ' " 132 
 
 * Her uncle paused at the door " . . . .150 
 
 * * What does she suggest? ' demanded Barton " i 56 
 ' * You should take my word ' " . . . . 168 
 
 * It was Amanda Maud " 186 
 
 « Nothing was what it had been " . . . . 198 
 
 * * It is after twelve o'clock, and you are 
 
 elected' " 210 
 
 vni 
 

s*^"*""^ 
 
 PAFvT 
 ONE 
 
 MANDA MAUD 
 
 Wiggins had a book 
 in her lap and some- 
 thing on her mind. 
 Amanda Maud was 
 seated on the floor, 
 her feet crossed like 
 a Turk's or a tailor's, 
 her knees improvis- 
 ing a book-rack. Only Providence 
 knows why the book was Milton. 
 Certainly Milton never was more 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 completely encompassed by femin- 
 inity. 
 
 The girl had looked into various 
 volumes which lay near the open 
 bookcase. She had pursued the un- 
 literary method of review which 
 consists in opening the book in the 
 middle and letting the pages spin 
 under the thumb. Nothing which 
 she had discovered by this exhaustive 
 system of examination had definitely 
 aroused her interest in the books at 
 hand. Nor had an occasional strug- 
 gle with a whole page of verse, 
 here and there, seemed to gratify 
 the impulse which had led her, 
 after dusting the bookcase daily for 
 some months, finally to search its 
 contents. 
 
 Yes, these pluckings from the tree 
 of literature had for Amanda Maud a 
 
" /Uiiaiida Ma ml had a 
 hook III hci lal^y 
 
THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 flat taste, when they did not repel her 
 by a puckery flavor. Such is the fate 
 of books. 
 
 When Miss Lynwood came into 
 the Hbrary she was not astonished to 
 find Amanda Maud on the floor, 
 since that position entirely conformed 
 to the girFs habit, but Miss Lynwood 
 was not wholly free from a sense of 
 curiosity as to the books. 
 
 "Amanda,'' said Miss Lynwood, 
 in a tone designed, perhaps, to elicit 
 confidences, " I never knew that you 
 cared for the poets." 
 
 ** I don't. Miss Edith," admitted 
 Amanda. " I can't see 's there 's 
 much in them — just a lot of words. 
 There 's one man here don't seem to 
 know even how to make his words 
 rhyme together. I wonder people 
 waste so much good money in books. 
 
 3 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 There 's more fair readin' in the 
 almanac, I think.** 
 
 " Perhaps, Amanda, you did n't find 
 the right poets. There are all sorts, 
 you know/* 
 
 " Maybe,** said Amanda, absently 
 staring at Miss Lynwood's back hair. 
 Presently Amanda broke out with : 
 ** Miss Lynwood, what is love, any- 
 way i 
 
 Miss Lynwood turned to gaze at 
 Amanda's round, unemotional coun- 
 tenance. " Amanda, how long have 
 you been in this state ?*' 
 
 " Ever since I came from Pennsyl- 
 vania, Miss Edith.'* 
 
 Miss Lynwood chuckled. " I 
 did n't mean that, Amanda. How 
 long have you been wondering what 
 love is?" 
 
 "O," returned Amanda, liberating 
 4 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 an enigmatical smile. " I - don't 
 know 's I could tell you exactly." 
 Then a new whimsical gleam crept 
 into her eyes, " It 's been comin' on 
 quite a while.'* 
 
 Miss Lynwood was adjusting some 
 flowers at the window. " Amanda," 
 she said presently, " it is very danger- 
 ous when it comes on gradually like 
 that." 
 
 "Is it. Miss Edith?" Amanda 
 was following the girl at the window, 
 following in her big-eyed, unanalyti- 
 cal way the fine, serious profile, the 
 soft, steady look, the cut of the lips 
 that contradicted their own smile. 
 " Well, before I knowed Joe Gribsey 
 I never thought of such things, and 
 that 's no lie." 
 
 " Joe Gribsey ? " repeated Miss 
 Lynwood. " Amanda, I don't be- 
 
 5 
 
THE GIRL (&• THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 lieve there is such a person. I have n't 
 seen him, and I don't believe you 
 have. You have just imagined him, 
 or read of him in a book." 
 
 This seemed to amuse Amanda 
 Maud. " You 're dead wrong, Miss 
 Edith. There 's a Joe Gribsey, all 
 right. You never seen him, because 
 he can't get out." 
 
 " Can't get out ? Why, where is 
 he? He isn't a — a prisoner, is 
 he?" 
 
 " No, Miss Edith, he 's only a 
 janitor. He can't get out only about 
 one night in the month, so mostly I 
 g-Q and see him now." 
 
 Miss Lynwood's eyelids twitched. 
 " You are very good to him, Amanda. 
 I hope he appreciates your great con- 
 sideration for him." 
 
 ** I guess he does. Miss Edith. 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 He lets on to be pretty far' gone. 
 But you can't tell." 
 
 "Where is your janitor, Amanda?" 
 
 Amanda knitted her heavy brows 
 and nibbled at her finger. It was 
 characteristic that she should fail in 
 such exact knowledge. " I forget 
 the name of the buildin*. There 's a 
 lot of studios on the top floor. Gen- 
 erally I see Joe up there. It 's nice 
 and quiet. There \s one studio that 
 nobody 's been in for a long time. 
 The artist went away to be a soldier. 
 And he was killed.'* 
 
 Miss Lynwood seated herself near 
 her flowers. " What was his name, 
 Amanda ? " 
 
 " I don't know \s I could remem- 
 ber — O yes ! '' pursued Amanda, 
 delighted at her feat of recollection, 
 " Barton, Miss Edith ; his name 's on 
 
 7 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the door. Joe often speaks about 
 him. He says that the soldier said if 
 he died the place was to be kept just 
 as it was for a friend of his 'n who was 
 to come from Europe or somewhere 
 — why, what 's the matter. Miss 
 Edith." Miss Lynwood's head had 
 drooped until it touched her hand. 
 ** Did you — did you know the 
 soldier ? '* 
 
 " Yes, Amanda." 
 
 " O — was he the one? Some- 
 body told me "... 
 
 Miss Lynwood was silent, though 
 she lifted her head again resolutely. 
 
 " It *s too bad," murmured Am- 
 anda, uncomfortably. ** It 's too bad. 
 I guess Joe did n't know about that. 
 . . . No, I guess he did n't. But 
 don't you care. Miss Edith. There *s 
 
 lots more. That 's what I tell Joe 
 
 8 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 when he says I never would find any- 
 body to think as much of me as he 
 does and wait so long." 
 
 " I wonder if you love Joe Gribsey, 
 Amanda ? " Miss Lynwood was star- 
 ing through the window, out across 
 the garden to the low hills and the 
 September sky, a bitter humor wrench- 
 ing her lips. Then she forgot her own 
 question. 
 
 ** Well, now that 's just what I 
 don't know, Miss Edith. I tell him 
 I must think a good deal of him to 
 climb five flights of steps and sit in 
 a lonesome place to talk to him. 
 But he 's such a fool ; you know what 
 I mean. Miss Edith. He ain't got 
 no sense. Mother says that most 
 men are that way. Then the next 
 minute she tells me it 's a pity I 
 can't find somebody '11 have me." 
 
 9 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Edith was not listening. Her 
 thoughts were away to an October 
 night when she bade her soldier 
 good-bye ; to that frightful day in 
 January when news came that he 
 had fallen during a desperate struggle 
 in the thickets of Luzon ; to that 
 poignantly bright day in March when 
 the troop came home — came home 
 without him ; to that mellow day 
 in August, one of those days that 
 urge us to forget, when Hadleigh, 
 his friend and fellow trooper, had 
 asked her to marry him. 
 
 A thousand times in the brief 
 weeks that had passed since then she 
 had asked herself whether her an- 
 swer to Hadleigh was a disloyalty 
 to the dead, whether, indeed, it was 
 not a disloyalty to Hadleigh, who 
 knew of the betrothal, but who 
 
 lO 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 scarcely could know all that it 
 meant to her. She had tried to tell 
 Hadleigh everything, but the protest 
 of a woman who yields is an empty 
 protest. She had let the genuine- 
 ness of Hadleigh's devotion justify 
 her in forgetting her own ideals. 
 Her conscience resented that forget- 
 fulness, and her punishment already 
 had begun. The thought of Barton 
 would not be put away. Her fancy 
 had followed every turn of his for- 
 tunes in those first days. She had 
 liked to think that she was not 
 sentimental ; but some of that con- 
 fidence had gone. After the news 
 came, there was a horrible period, 
 black as the blackest night, in 
 which she saw his dead face lying 
 among the weeds, and some terrible 
 
 wound . . . 
 
 II 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** My dear ! " 
 
 Mr. Amos Tibbetts stood in the 
 library door, his shaven Hps working 
 impatiently, the tufts of gray hair 
 that winged his countenance quiver- 
 ing in unwonted excitement. 
 
 ** My dear — where is she ? " 
 
 " Who, uncle?" 
 
 " Where is she ? Where is that 
 exasperating creature who does work 
 and mischief about this house ? '* 
 
 ** Amanda Maud, uncle ? " 
 
 ** She 's broken into my room 
 again ! " — 
 
 ** But, uncle ! " — 
 
 " Broken in, I say, and gone 
 through like a cyclone. Ye gods ! 
 but these things try a man's soul ! I 
 can't find any of my papers ! There 
 were two bonds on the desk. Heaven 
 knows where t/iey have gone ! Burned, 
 
 I 2 
 
" The tb()ii(fht of Bar I oil would 
 Hot be f)ul awcU'." 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 probably, or otherwise sacrificed to a 
 savage frenzy for cleaning up ! I tell 
 you — 
 
 " I hope they are not destroyed, 
 uncle," murmured Edith, with real 
 solicitude. 
 
 " I told that fanatic," pursued Mr. 
 Tibbetts, " never, on pain of death, 
 to clean up my room again. This 
 morning I took the additional pre- 
 caution of locking my door. But 
 she either picked the lock or climbed 
 the lattice of the porch and got 
 in through the window." 
 
 " O, what a whopper ! " 
 
 Amanda appeared between the door 
 curtains in an attitude of pained if 
 outwardly composed resentment. " I 
 never picked no lock and I never 
 climbed no porch. You did n't 
 fasten your door the second time 
 
 13 
 
THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 you went out, Mr. Tibbetts, and it 
 was disgraceful in there/' 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts was a short, round 
 man, with a baby smoothness in his 
 face, eyes usually mild in expression, 
 if surmounted by brows which in his 
 later years suggested a fretful habit. 
 He now fastened upon the house- 
 maid a glance of concentrated scorn. 
 
 " Amanda," he said, with uncer- 
 tain calmness, ** I have told you re- 
 peatedly, and in plain United States, 
 that I did n't want to be cleaned up, 
 put in order, or otherwise driven to 
 drink by your infernal dust-brush 
 upheavals." 
 
 ** Why, Amanda ! " interposed Edith, 
 not without hope of averting serious 
 hostilities, *' I told you never to do 
 anything but make the bed in Uncle 
 Amos's room." 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Yes, I know. Miss Edith, but it 
 did look so indecent this morn in'."" 
 
 " What is that to you? '' demanded 
 Mr. Tibbetts, in a voice that was in- 
 tended to be thunderous. " Can't 
 I be indecent if I want to without 
 sohciting your permission ? Listen 
 to me : If I ever find you in 
 that room again, I '11 — yes, sir, I '11 
 pitch you into the garden ! Do 
 you understand ? — pitch you into 
 the garden ! " 
 
 " O, dear ! " murmured Amanda, 
 her imperturbable face searching, it 
 might seem, for some appropriate ex- 
 pression of dread, " I would n't have 
 thought " — 
 
 " Where are my bonds .? " inter- 
 rupted Mr. Tibbetts, in a new thunder. 
 
 " Your what, sir .? " 
 
 " My bonds I " 
 
 15 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Don't ask me. I did n't take 
 nothin'." 
 
 " Perhaps not, but where did you 
 put them ? " 
 
 Amanda shook her head. *'I only 
 cleaned up the place." 
 
 " Yes," snorted Uncle Amos, 
 " that 's all — just heaved things 
 around, just tossed valuable documents 
 and priceless memoranda into crazy 
 places, pitchforked papers and letters 
 into cracks and corners where I shall 
 never find them — that's all!" 
 
 ** Uncle," pleaded Edith, '^Amanda 
 and I will go and look for the bonds. 
 I am sure that Amanda will never 
 disturb your room again." 
 
 " I wish I had your hopeful dis- 
 position ! " cried Uncle Amos, as they 
 left him. " You don't know her. 
 
 She '11 be at it again, unless you bar 
 
 16 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the door, fasten on iron safety shutters, 
 and put her in chains — in the cellar ! 
 Only cleaned up the place / '* and Mr. 
 Tibbetts, with a final snort, stalked out 
 into the garden, where he ruminated 
 savagely among his chrysanthemums. 
 
 He might have enjoyed the 
 thought of Amanda confronted by her 
 own devastation, had it been possible 
 to fancy that creature as possessing a 
 sensibility that might be assailed by 
 remorse. It was but too clear that 
 the derangement of his room had 
 afforded her a superior feminine joy, 
 that she applied herself to the rescue 
 of his sanctuary as a religious enthusi- 
 ast might have applied herself to the 
 salvation of his soul. 
 
 It occurred to him to wonder, as it 
 had a score of times before, what had 
 implanted this form of vice in woman, 
 
 a 17 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 why it was a form of vice so dis- 
 tinctively feminine. In what avenue 
 of psychological study was a man to 
 find explanation for that form of per- 
 versity in women which makes them 
 assail the natural symmetry of man's 
 surroundings under the sad hallucina- 
 tion that they are restoring order ? 
 Could any longing be more pathetic or 
 more maddening than that to which 
 women yield when they inflict upon 
 an absent or subdued man the monu- 
 mental irony known as cleaning up ? 
 The whole problem was profoundly 
 inexplicable. 
 
 When Edith came down the path 
 she had the missing papers in her 
 hand. " And Amanda has promised, 
 uncle, never to do it again." 
 
 " Don't you believe her, my dear,'* 
 growled Uncle Amos, taking his 
 
 i8' 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 bonds resignedly, '* the appetite.is too 
 strongly rooted. You can't eradicate 
 those cravings so easily. She may 
 swear to reform, and she may mean 
 it. I have known those things to 
 happen. But in a few days, at some 
 critical juncture, when I have the 
 topography of my effects firmly fixed, 
 the appetite will seize her once more, 
 and then it will be the old story. 
 O, I see, my dear, that you don't feel 
 the annoyance of these things '* — 
 
 "I assure you, uncle," protested 
 Edith, but Uncle Amos had a keen 
 glance. 
 
 " Yes, I know, I know. Never- 
 theless, you don't feel — you can't 
 feel — the gravity of this thing. It 
 is not to be expected. You are too 
 young, and you are a woman yourself. 
 Your superior sense may restrain you, 
 
 ^9 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 but your instinct, doubtless, dulls your 
 resentment for this form of destruc- 
 tiveness.** 
 
 ** Uncle, I don't wish to appear 
 unsympathetic, but should n't you 
 pardon something to the spirit of 
 order — even if it is imperfectly ex- 
 pressed by poor Amanda ? '' 
 
 ** Order ! " returned Uncle Amos, 
 with a fretful turn ; ** order ! That 's 
 just it! You call this devastation 
 order ! — But you can*t reason about 
 these things with a woman ! You 
 can't make her see that the true order 
 is the condition that she disturbs. It 
 is useless. I tell you, Edith, that if 
 a woman made the world, all trees 
 would grow in straight lines, every 
 hill would be symmetrically conical, 
 every river would move at true angles. 
 A feminine creator would have placed 
 
 20 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the planets in a proper curve, the 
 largest at one end, the smallest at the 
 other, have straightened the handle 
 of the J3ipper and mopped up the 
 Milky Way. Science has tried to 
 explain the thing a thousand times by 
 saying that she has no constructive 
 sense. But of course you can't ex- 
 plain a woman. It w^ould be sacri- 
 legious presumption.'' 
 
 " It is dreadful, uncle, to think that 
 we have staggered science in this 
 way, but you must take my word that 
 we are trying to do better. At all 
 events, you have Amanda's promise, 
 and you have mine. Things will go 
 better." 
 
 "You mean, I suppose, that they 
 will not go, — that they will be let 
 alone. I hope so. I am an optimist, 
 after all. I really believe you." 
 
 21 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Then Mr. Tibbetts looked up. Edith 
 was in a quiet mood despite her 
 banter. 
 
 " I am going out for a little while," 
 she said presently. " But I shall be 
 back very soon. I am expecting a 
 caller at four. Amanda will be 
 away.'' 
 
 "Thank heaven!'' muttered Mr. 
 Tibbetts. 
 
 " If Mr. Hadleigh calls will you 
 tell him" — 
 
 " That you slipped out ? " 
 "No — that I am expecting him." 
 " Yes, yes." Uncle Amos gave her 
 a furtive glance. He followed her 
 toward the house. The mention of 
 Hadleigh's name had set him think- 
 ing. That Hadleigh affair was all 
 right, of course. Why not ? It was 
 a wholly satisfactory solution of the 
 
 22 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 difficulty. Yet Edith was strangely, 
 ominously quiet at times. She did 
 not seem happy. She was not the 
 Edith she had been in those other 
 days — in the Barton era. No, she 
 certainly had changed. Even her 
 occasional lightness could not be 
 trusted. It was not real. " She 
 thinks too much about the other one," 
 said Mr. Tibbetts to himself, and this 
 was a fact to be regretted, to be re- 
 sented. 
 
 Why should a girl harbor a senti- 
 mental notion of this sort ? — for it 
 was sentimental. Mr. Tibbetts stood 
 at the window staring down the road 
 in the direction of her vanishing fig- 
 ure, watching the pale flicker of her 
 gown against the dull greens of the 
 fading season. That other afl^air was 
 ended, — ended in the one final, irre- 
 
 23 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 trievable way. When a man is dead 
 he is dead, and that Is the end of it. 
 Whimpering will not fetch him back. 
 
 Unanswerable, Uncle Amos, but 
 what is this at the library door ? 
 What is this image in khaki outlined 
 against the shadow of the hall? It 
 might have been the image of Uncle 
 Amos's thought, but it was not. It 
 was a living image — Uncle Amos 
 might have heard its deep breathing 
 had he been less engrossed by his 
 reverie. 
 
 Edith, reasoned Uncle Amos, with 
 a feeling oi being entirely judicial, 
 had been wise to accept Hadleigh. 
 Hadleigh was a good fellow. There 
 were a score of reasons why a girl's 
 second choice should be better than 
 her first. Why should she be satis- 
 fied ? ** And yet," Uncle Amos shook 
 
 '*4 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUAl^DSMAN 
 
 his head slowly, regretfully, **she 
 thinks too much about the other 
 one." 
 
 The other one — heavens! was this 
 he — Barton in the flesh. Barton ex- 
 tending his hand. Barton the dead 
 back to life. Barton crying, ** How 
 are you. Uncle Amos ? Don't you 
 know me in this rig?" 
 
 25 
 
art Ywo 
 
 OR the length of an 
 incredulous moment 
 Uncle Amos was 
 speechless. *^ My 
 
 God ! " he gasped at 
 last. ** Barton ) you 
 alive?" Then fol- 
 lowing the impulse 
 to fortify his doubt he 
 faltered, **How did you get in?'' If 
 Barton had dropped through the ceil- 
 ing he certainly might not be real. 
 " Get in, Uncle Amos ? Blew in 
 
 at the side gate, as usual ! " 
 
 26' 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 '* And you — you actually are alive, 
 Barton ? You " — 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Amos, alive and 
 kicking — at the time it took to get 
 here. You all thought I w^as dead — 
 and I did have a close call '* — 
 
 " But, Barton — the despatches" — 
 " The despatches lied and my 
 letter didn't go. Everything went 
 wrong. Where 's Edith ? '* 
 
 ** Edith ? '' Uncle Amos's arms 
 dropped. " O, yes, Edith '' — a new 
 emotion seized the man. ** Barton 
 — this is very unfortunate ! " 
 
 " Unfortunate } Mr. Tibbetts '' — 
 " Understand me. Barton " — 
 " I am reported dead," went on the 
 soldier, scanning the other resentfully, 
 a mystification behind his resent- 
 ment ; " and I am not dead. I have 
 had a rough time squeezing back into 
 
 27 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the troop of the living, and a devilish 
 journey home *' — 
 
 ** Ah ! Barton! you don't see" — 
 
 ** Mr. Tibbetts — what 's wrong ? 
 Nothing has happened to Edith ? 
 She is not " — 
 
 " No, my boy, she is n't yet — 
 but" — 
 
 ** Is n't yet? Is she ill ? Tell me!" 
 
 ** No, no ! But can't you see ! — 
 you are supposed to be dead. To all ap- 
 pearances you have been dead. Barton." 
 
 ** I admit that." 
 
 ** And you have been dead — as it 
 were — for quite a time, and during 
 that period — well, you can see. Bar- 
 ton, that if one man dies, a young 
 woman might take up with another. 
 She can't " — 
 
 Barton moved impatiently. " Par- 
 don me, Mr. Tibbetts," he cried, 
 
 28 
 
*' 'Noihiiig has happened 
 to Edith?'" 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 catching the older man by the sleeve, 
 " I don't want to be rough, but have 
 it out. What are you driving at ? 
 You don't mean" — 
 
 " Yes, I do. Barton. Edith has 
 accepted another man." 
 
 The soldier shrank as if he had 
 received a sharp blow. " Whom ? " 
 he then demanded. 
 
 " Hadleigh,'' returned Mr. TPibbetts. 
 " Eh — you knew him. Barton ?" 
 
 The soldier walked to the win- 
 dow, folding his arms with a quiver- 
 ing gesture. " O, yes ! He is my 
 friend. . . . She did n't wait very 
 ong. 
 
 " He did n't wait very long, Bar- 
 ton. That was the way of it. And 
 so it was settled. You can see at a 
 glance how unfortunate your coming 
 home is." 
 
 29 
 
THE GIRL ir THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Barton nodded slowly. " How 
 unfortunate ! " Then he swung 
 about as if to discover whether this 
 was not a misplaced jest. " This is 
 a cheerful welcome, Mr. Tibbetts, 
 for a man returned from the grave. 
 But your joke is untimely. In all 
 of that long struoo-le back to life, 
 throughout the bitterness of my dis- 
 appointment in finding that my letter 
 had not left the hospital, during all 
 of those hard weeks on the sea and 
 this journey from the coast, I have 
 had one thought to lift and nerve me. 
 I have seen the light of this house, 
 the dearer light of her eyes. And 
 when at last I cross the threshold it is 
 to be told that I am a disaster " — 
 
 ** But, Barton, you don't under- 
 stand how dreadfully untimely, what 
 an awkward moment " — 
 
 30 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Again Barton caught him by the 
 arm. " Mr. Tibbetts ! — if you are 
 conceahng anything, if you are de- 
 ceiving me — She is n't being mar- 
 ried — to-day ? " — 
 
 ** No, no. Barton, not that. Be 
 cahn, my boy, be cahn ; you must 
 admit that nothing is to be gained 
 by rashness. The fact is that she is 
 engaged to the other man." 
 
 " BeHeving me dead." 
 
 " Yes; but don't be too positive in 
 your inferences, Barton. Very im- 
 portant things have happened in these 
 eight months. As a result of this 
 new alHance — now, understand me. 
 Barton, I am simply unfolding the 
 facts, placing before you the history 
 of the situation." 
 
 ** I am listening." 
 
 " As a result, I say, of this new 
 3^ 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 alliance, the Hadleigh crowd has 
 thawed out in a wonderful way/' 
 
 "What is that to me?'' hurled 
 Barton. '* Am I to be comforted 
 by the fact that there is a freeze or 
 a thaw in the Hadleigh family ? '* 
 
 *' No, my boy, but Hadleigh's 
 father is a powerful man, and he 
 has seen a pretty chance to do a 
 nice thing for Edith and me — he 
 has just taken it into his obstinate 
 old head to put me forward for Vice- 
 President of the Corporation — Vice- 
 President, Barton ! All going well 
 I shall be elected to-morrow — and 
 here you are to-day ! " 
 
 Barton had begun to pace the 
 floor. He now stopped and peered 
 at Mr. Tibbetts with a hard smile 
 on his lips. " What do you wish 
 me to do.?" he demanded ; " com- 
 
 32 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 mit suicide ? It annoys me to be 
 inappropriate." 
 
 " Barton," returned Mr. Tibbetts, 
 seated tentatively on the edge of a 
 chair, and bending forward with his 
 hands on his knees, " Did you ever 
 hear of Enoch Arden ? " 
 
 " Yes," admitted Barton, " and I 
 always thought " — 
 
 " You always thought he was an 
 old fool, I suppose, because he turned 
 away and left her with the other 
 man. You are younger. Barton — 
 I am not jesting. Barton, I '' — 
 
 " Mr. Tibbetts, I am not built that 
 way. Moreover, Edith is not mar- 
 ried to the other man. There is no 
 parallel or other justification for your 
 pleasantry/' 
 
 " I insist. Barton, that I am not 
 jesting." 
 
 3 33 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 "And I insist, Mr. Tibbetts, that 
 you shall not torture me. Where is 
 Edith? I shall see her! Nothing 
 that has happened denies me that 
 privilege." 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts placed a restraining 
 hand on the soldier's arm. " No, 
 Barton. She is not in the house. Be 
 patient ! Do you want to spoil every- 
 thing ? Do you want to make us all 
 unhappy ? Do you find anything so 
 unpardonably grotesque in what I 
 have said ? I am not blaming you 
 for being alive." 
 
 " Thanks," said Barton. 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts ignored the irony. 
 "You are here and must be reckoned 
 with.'' 
 
 **Now you are talking,'* said 
 Barton. 
 
 ** You being alive, there is always 
 34 
 
THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the chance that Edith may throw 
 over Iladleigh/' 
 
 ** That seems reasonahle," suggested 
 the soldier. 
 
 *' The chance, I say. But you 
 need not imperil that chance. Will 
 you make the most of it by rushing 
 matters? Take a large view of the 
 case — an impersonal view. Barton, 
 and you will see that I am not un- 
 reasonable. What am I asking but 
 a proper pause, a proper caution ? 
 To-day you are a calamity. To- 
 morrow — after twelve o'clock noon 
 — you would be only " — 
 
 " Only an occurrence,*' offered 
 Barton. 
 
 " Save your sarcasm. Barton. There 
 is nothing selfish in what I am asking 
 of you. Ah, my dear boy ! it would 
 be a different matter to-morrow — 
 
 35 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 after twelve noon! Heavens! there's 
 Edith ! '' 
 
 They both had started. Mr. Tib- 
 betts placed his hands fervently on 
 Barton's shoulders. " Barton ! — for 
 my sake, for her sake, for your own 
 sake, do not show yourself yet — hide 
 yourself somewhere here — for this 
 time. Barton ! — to-morrow " — 
 
 It came to Barton afterward that 
 his grotesque scramble for conceal- 
 ment behind the corner of the screen 
 near the table — a scramble in which 
 he was feverishly assisted by Mr. 
 Tibbetts — cost him more than the 
 most trying moment of his cam- 
 paign. It was only afterward that a 
 sense of its absurd theatricalism came 
 to him, for in that moment every- 
 thing else faded in the sound of her 
 voice. 
 
 36 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 *' Why, uncle ! are you still upset 
 over Amanda Maud? What a poor 
 philosopher you are, after all." 
 
 "Yes, Edith," faltered Mr. Tibbetts, 
 in a supreme effort to soften the out- 
 ward lines of his perturbation. ** I 
 am a very poor philosopher. Now, 
 with you, Edith, it is very different. 
 You are a real philosopher. You 
 don't let things needlessly worry you. 
 It — it is a great gift," he pursued, 
 watching Edith as she crossed the 
 room in the direction of the table, — 
 <* a great gift, Edith ! " His hand 
 reached as if to restrain her. ** Don't 
 sit on the table ! '' 
 
 She had, indeed, followed a girlish 
 habit, and with one foot on the floor 
 was swinging the other from over the 
 corner of the table in close proximity 
 to the hidden visitor. 
 
 37 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GITARDSMAN 
 
 " Why, what is the matter, uncle?'* 
 
 She herself was in no tranquil- 
 lity at that moment. Hadleigh 
 was late. 
 
 ** But it is so extraordinary," ex- 
 claimed her uncle, ** for a girl of your 
 age to sit on the table. Perhaps I 
 am getting nervous, or I should 
 ignore such exhibitions o( impro- 
 priety. However — please get off 
 the table ! " This was at the un- 
 wonted spectacle ot Barton kissing 
 the hem oi her gown, his face as 
 white as the hem. 
 
 **What risks some people take," 
 remarked Mr. Tibbetts equivocally, 
 as Edith crossed to the window. 
 "Can't you see that the table might 
 upset or break under you ? The act 
 was not only inelegant, my dear, but 
 danQ:erous." 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Uncle, you must take a nerve 
 tonic. You are getting more excit- 
 able every day." 
 
 " Then you, Edith, must consider 
 the condition of my nerves. It is for 
 you not to offend them. But don't 
 worry over me," Mr. Tibbetts went 
 on, a furtive eye on the not sufficiently 
 invisible soldier. " Just go and do 
 something to occupy yourself — to 
 amuse yourself, my dear." 
 
 ** The simple truth is,'* said Edith, 
 advancing upon Uncle Amos with a 
 look of perplexed investigation, " that 
 I never saw you act so queerly." 
 
 " There! '' protested Mr. Tibbetts, 
 his voice rising, " you are going to sit 
 on that table again ! I can feel it in 
 my bones. What makes you so restless 
 that you have to go about the house 
 sitting on tables in this manner ? " 
 
 39 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts pre-empted the corner 
 of the table. " If you think that the 
 decorative proprieties require that 
 some one should sit on the table I 
 might sacrifice myself," and Mr. Tib- 
 betts essayed to lift one of his plump 
 legs over the table edge. For reasons 
 directly associated with the shortness 
 of his stature the effort was ludicrously 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 " Fool! " thought Barton. " This 
 man is fit for a farce." 
 
 " You are making a great sacrifice, 
 uncle," said Edith, with a shadowy 
 smile and a glance at her watch. *' I 
 will promise not to sit on the table 
 any more." 
 
 ** Thank you, my dear." Mr. 
 
 Tibbetts looked uneasily after the girl 
 
 as she moved away, and in a moment 
 
 of irresolution following her departure 
 
 40 
 
*' */ will /^roiii/Si' uol to sil UN 
 I be lablt' any luoiw'' " 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 he grunted to Barton, " Stay -where 
 you are ! " 
 
 " What did you say, uncle ? '' came 
 Edith's voice from the hall and her 
 restless figure returned to the door- 
 way. 
 
 "O! — I — I only remarked, 
 Edith, that there is no reason why 
 you should go away angry. I am 
 a little upset — by business matters, 
 you know ; and then that Amanda 
 Maud " — 
 
 It might have been thought that 
 the name summoned the irrepressible 
 Amanda, for at that moment she por- 
 tentously appeared — a miracle which 
 freshly astounded Mr. Tibbetts, who 
 had supposed she was out of the house. 
 What special providence had carried 
 Barton to the side door and into the 
 library without her knowledge? 
 
 41 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** You said I might go out this 
 afternoon. Miss Edith." 
 
 " Yes," interjected Mr. Tibbetts, 
 upon whom the effect of compHcat- 
 ing circumstances bore more heavily 
 every moment ; *' please let her go, 
 Edith. She needs more of the open 
 air. She is too much confined to the 
 house. I have observed this lately. 
 It is unwise. If ever you wish to go 
 out, Amanda, ask me ! " 
 
 *' Uncle!" was all that Edith ven- 
 tured to say in reproof of this extraor- 
 dinary interference in her domestic 
 authority. Her saying nothing more 
 was, perhaps, the worst of rebukes. 
 
 Amanda bestowed upon Mr. Tib- 
 betts one of her inexplicable looks 
 of inquiry. Her habits of classifica- 
 tion were necessarily rudimentary, and 
 she never had succeeded in fixing Mr. 
 
THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Tibbetts's place in the order of crea- 
 tion. At this hour he seemed to her 
 to be particularly queer and unac- 
 countable, though her mystification 
 was scarcely so deep as Edith*s. 
 
 The acute stage of Mr. Tibbetts's 
 perturbation appeared in the gasp of 
 relief with which he greeted what 
 appeared to be the safe departure of 
 the two women — Edith to her room, 
 Amanda to the outer world. 
 
 '' Ah ! Barton ! you can see what 
 a terrible affair this is to me ! Thank 
 heaven we are rid of Amanda Maud. 
 But Edith — she will not go out, and 
 we must be careful. She is expecting 
 some one — she is expecting Had- 
 leigh/' 
 
 Barton arose from the cramped 
 position in which he had endured 
 more than physical distress. " Then 
 
 43 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 I will see her now ! " he said, with 
 ominous finality. 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts clutched him des- 
 perately. ** Hush ! '' he pleaded. 
 ** Barton ! — you would n't spoil every- 
 thing in your rash, impetuous way ? 
 Listen. Can you expect to help mat- 
 ters by reckless behavior f Remem- 
 ber that she has accepted him — yes, 
 I know ; it was under a misapprehen- 
 sion, but — hush ! come with me a 
 moment ! '' and Mr. Tibbetts half 
 dragged Barton out through the pas- 
 sage into the extension room. 
 
 **Now, be calm for a moment. 
 Barton ! " 
 
 " Be calm yourself ! " retorted Bar- 
 ton, wrestling with his growing im- 
 patience. 
 
 " I 'm calm enough. Barton,'* ex- 
 postulated Mr. Tibbetts, his eyebrows 
 
 44 
 
** 'Now, he calm fur a iiio- 
 meiil , Baiion.' " 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 twitching. " It 's you. You won't 
 listen. You don't see that this thing 
 has to be approached with deUcacy — 
 dehcacy, my friend ! Of course see- 
 ing Edith seems hke a very impera- 
 tive necessity with you. But what 
 has happened, has happened. You 
 want to brush all that away. *■ I am 
 here,' you say, ' and that changes 
 everything/ But does it change 
 everything ? Does it make it less 
 dangerous for you to rush into her 
 presence r Would not that shock be 
 terrible in the first place ? " 
 
 " Then go and break it to her as 
 you think best," Barton demanded. 
 He swung about again. "No, we 
 shall do better.' 
 
 ** Better?" echoed Mr. Tibbetts. 
 
 "What you say may be true, Mr. 
 Tibbetts. If she has become attached 
 
 45 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 to another there is occasion for some 
 hesitation. I have a lover's con- 
 fidence." 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts nodded. 
 
 " Yet I think I know her better 
 than any one else. Even if — if she 
 loved Hadleigh, I still should go to 
 her. I still should think I had the 
 right to go, understand. But I am 
 willing to try her. When you ask 
 me to wait until to-morrow you ask 
 too much " — 
 
 " Barton ! '' 
 
 '* You ask too much. This night 
 would kill me if I had not seen her." 
 Barton took a turn across the room. 
 **Yes, it would kill me. But if she 
 really loves him I — I shall go." 
 
 " What shall you do, Barton ? " 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts peered inquiringly at 
 
 the restless figure in khaki as it 
 
 46 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 moved away from him and returned 
 again. The soldier stopped in front 
 of him and placed a strong hand on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 " This shall be the way," said 
 Barton, with an impetuous slowness. 
 "Go and tell her that Hadleigh is 
 here." 
 
 " Hadleigh ? " Mr. Tibbetts half 
 turned his head. "What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " I ask you to go and tell her that 
 Hadleigh is here. I soon shall see 
 whether she loves him. I could not 
 be deceived." 
 
 " Barton, that is absurd. This 
 is no jest. You may think it fan- 
 tastic that I should ask you to con- 
 ceal your return until to-morrow. 
 But wise reasons affecting us all — 
 you as well — are behind that re- 
 
 47 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 quest. Now you propose some ridic- 
 ulous trick. Tell her Hadleigh is 
 here ? I should feel forced to go 
 and tell her that you are here and 
 be done with it." 
 
 " As you like," said Barton, turn- 
 ing away with a gesture that was 
 undebatable, " so that you do me the 
 justice to say it quickly." 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts left the room in pro- 
 found confusion. Clearly, argument 
 with Barton was at an end. The 
 soldier was hopelessly obstinate in his 
 determination to see Edith. There 
 was nothing more to be done. If he 
 chose to bring disaster, there was no 
 help. All the same it was excessively 
 annoying. The vice-presidency of 
 the Fordwell Company was as good 
 as gone already. Mr. Tibbetts re- 
 belled against this ill stroke of for- 
 
 48 
 
THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 tune. His rebellion deepened his 
 confusion as he climbed the stair 
 toward Edith's room. 
 
 Then he paused as he heard the 
 rustle of her gown. " Edith," he 
 blurted, " he is here." 
 
 Whether the equivocal character 
 of this message appeared to him as he 
 descended the stair again is much to 
 be doubted. Certainly no thought of 
 Hadleigh was with him at the mo- 
 ment of his announcement. That 
 it all was over — that was his one 
 emotion. 
 
 He went back to Barton with his 
 face lowered, his hands fidgeting be- 
 hind him. His manner misled the 
 younger man. 
 
 " What have you said to her } " 
 Barton inquired perplexedly. 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts was resentfully mute. 
 
 4 49 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 "You are deceiving me for some 
 reason," Barton declared. " You are 
 against me. What have you said? 
 I soon shall know ! " 
 
 "Wait, Barton! " cried the other, 
 called to his senses by the threatened 
 shock to the girl, — " one moment ! " 
 
 But Barton hurried out of the 
 room, Mr. Tibbetts clinging to his 
 coat. 
 
 To Edith her uncle's singular an- 
 nouncement from the stair was less 
 astonishing than it might have been 
 had not his recent excitement pre- 
 pared her for new vagaries, and had 
 she herself been freer from an agita- 
 tion which she sought unsuccessfully 
 to conceal from herself. 
 
 When she entered the sitting-room 
 her step was tremulously decided. 
 She saw in a quick glance that Had- 
 
 50 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 leigh was not there. Neither was he 
 in the Hbrary, a circumstance which 
 an observer might have associated with 
 an immediate loss of some of the 
 outward calm with which she had 
 descended the stair. 
 
 The truth is that her heart was 
 beating high. She had set herself to 
 do an exceedingly disagreeable thing, 
 and she had undertaken to spare her- 
 self no penitential detail of a task 
 imposed by her sense of justice to 
 Hadleigh and to herself. It was 
 costing her the last drops of her cour- 
 age to confess to him that she had 
 promised too much, that to offer him 
 more than her high respect had been 
 to offer him more than she owned. 
 
 Why had he not greeted her there 
 where she had expected to see him ? 
 A little matter may stagger one's 
 
 51 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 overwrought nerves. One is unwil- 
 ling to search for a lover one is about 
 to dismiss. 
 
 She sat down at the library table. 
 How should she meet him ? She had 
 fancied his inquiring look, and had 
 planned her humiliating story. It 
 was turning out differently, somehow. 
 She hated the thought of looking him 
 in the eyes. 
 
 At the sound of a step she felt her- 
 self grow cold. 
 
 " Don't speak ! " she commanded 
 tremulously, her face averted. ** I — 
 I have n't any courage, after all, and 
 you must do me the last kindness of 
 listening for a moment or I shan't be 
 able to say a word. There is some- 
 thing I must say. It is a hard thing 
 to say — the hardest thing I ever tried 
 to say. You will understand that." 
 
 52 
 
" 'Don't speak ! ' she coiii- 
 II landed trtiiiuloiislv- ' 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Barton was frozen where he stood, 
 and old Tibbetts, a detaining hand 
 on Barton's arm, his lips parted, ut- 
 terly failed in the first dazed moment 
 to grasp the significance of Edith's 
 speech. 
 
 "You always have known,'* the 
 girl went on, *' that I held a high 
 ideal of a woman's duty — that I be- 
 lieved in the true love of the woman 
 for the man as well as in the true 
 love of the man for the woman. 
 Without this, marriage could not be 
 holy. There are so many ways of 
 looking at a woman's duty, that I 
 suppose God forgives her for some 
 mistakes. When I promised to 
 marry you I did not foresee every- 
 thing that has happened — happened 
 to myself. This will seem very cruel 
 to you." 
 
 S3 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts put out his hand to- 
 ward Edith, his eyes on Barton, who 
 stood white and strung at the parted 
 curtains. Perhaps the disaster fas- 
 cinated him. At all events he did 
 not speak. 
 
 ** Try not to think harshly of 
 me," came Edith's voice. ** Try to 
 remember all the i^ood vou can of 
 me. But this is the truth, whatever 
 may have seemed to be true to either 
 of us. I do not love vou. I must 
 not see you as my lover any more. 
 I have done you a great wrong/' 
 
 Barton drew back as if some one 
 were stabbing him repeatedly. Tib- 
 betts had a confused sense of his eointr, 
 and of Edith still speaking. ** I was 
 foolish to think that love ever could 
 come to me aiiain. The onlv man I 
 ever loved, the only man I ever could 
 
 54 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 love, lies buried at Manila.. . 
 Forgive me, Marcus" — she had 
 arisen — *' I have n't asked you to be 
 seated, I have n't — uncle ! " 
 
 Only Tibbetts stood there, wring- 
 ing his hands. 
 
 ** Uncle ! and you let me " 
 
 "My — my dear, he just went 
 away." 
 
 '' Away ! '' She sank again into 
 the chair. 
 
 " Yes, Edith. He has gone. I 
 
 I am afraid, my dear, that you will 
 have to tell him again ! " 
 
 55 
 
HE trolley into the 
 city ran scarcely a 
 hundred yards from 
 the house, hut Bar- 
 ton struck blindly 
 across the valley 
 with little thought 
 as to the direction in which his steps 
 carried him. How he left the Lyn- 
 wood house would at any later time 
 have been a matter as trying to his 
 recollection as an elusive hiatus in a 
 dream. 
 
 Fate IS credited with a whimsical 
 habit in manao-ins: children and 
 
 56 
 
THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 drunken men. Doubtless there is a 
 special formula for lovers who blun- 
 der, otherwise drama might perish 
 and ordinary fiction go lame in an 
 early chapter. 
 
 However, the great fact just here 
 is that Barton and luiith managed to 
 be deceived in defiance of every rea- 
 sonable probability that such a thing 
 would not happen. It was a chance 
 in a million, and even that millionth 
 chance demanded Tibbetts. The 
 thing could not have been done with- 
 out him — and it could not have 
 been done had he meant to do it. 
 
 The blinding bitterness that seized 
 upon the soldier bore with it a dis- 
 torted image of Tibbetts, whom Bar- 
 ton's grief and anger instinctively 
 associated with the blow that so un- 
 expectedly struck him down. 
 
 57 
 
THE GIRL ^- THE CtUARDSMAN 
 
 And yd, thought Burton, what 
 diti'erence did it make what had 
 been said to her ? She had judged 
 and executed him. There was no 
 saving gleam of false impulse in what 
 she had said. She had spoken with 
 emotion — she had thou2:ht him 
 dead. But all the same she spoke 
 with merciless decision. The words 
 were colored bv the moment. She 
 had lived with the thoughts they 
 expressed. 
 
 This was his home coming. This 
 was the end oi the journey. This 
 was the crown to his devotion. 
 
 A man has his notions oi human 
 nature, of right and wrong. He has 
 his theories of friendship, of love, 
 of hdelitv, his ideals that tlame 
 steadily in the darkest nio-ht. Per- 
 haps he has had the hope of proving 
 
 5^^ 
 
THE GIRL 6- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 in his own life that cynicism is. a lie, 
 that fliith is a living flower, fair, 
 elate, imperishable. What a mock- 
 ery was all this in the face oi such a 
 grotevsque tragedy ! 
 
 It was hard enough to think that 
 in a few short months she should 
 have been able to find a vsatistying 
 love in another. It was crushing to 
 think that, having so found her way, 
 no surviving thought ot him should 
 have better guided her greeting. The 
 wound from an enemy is at worst 
 an awkward thing. The blow ot a 
 friend is the real hurt, the supreme 
 calamity of life. 
 
 Poor Barton felt that this wound 
 had rended his soul. He had 
 no blame for Hadleigh — no, no. 
 He assured himself that Hadleigh 
 was the one man he would have 
 
 59 
 
THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 chosen to take his place by her side. 
 And she, perhaps, had been influenced 
 by thought oi himself in listening to 
 his friend. It was not a fantastic 
 idea — or niiirlit not have seemed 
 such had the last hour been turned 
 dit^erently. 
 
 The world was empty — that was 
 the short of it. Had he been a 
 coward, Barton miglit have found 
 consolation in some desperate resolve 
 to out\\it the fate that had preserved 
 him ahve. As it was, he could have 
 cursed the fortune that denied him 
 a torward place in a charging line. 
 There are lucky men who at the 
 riglu moment have the chance to 
 lead a forlorn hope. 
 
 \\ hy was his patli so smooth ? 
 Why did the field lie soft and odor- 
 ous before him ? ^^ hy did the sun 
 
 60 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 mock him with its Septciiihcr shim- 
 mer? Why did the trees — 
 
 The trees ! Here was the tree be- 
 neath which she sat when he had 
 sketched her in the green vista of the 
 valley. . . . He had given the sketch 
 to her. That was lojig ago, in the 
 other time. . . . What had she done 
 with such souvenirs oi their be- 
 trothal ? Was she so different from 
 anything he had fancied that she 
 could look upon that image of her- 
 self drawn in his affectionate lines 
 without a twinge of regret ior the 
 cruelty oi her dismissal ? 
 
 Such things, he thought, had 
 
 turned honest men into something 
 
 worse than cynics. No man could 
 
 be the same again who had gone 
 
 through a trial like this. The 
 
 burn of such a moment must dis- 
 
 6i 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 tigure him, must cripple his reason, 
 must kill his faith. 
 ** Holv saints ! " 
 
 The voice seemed to come out ot 
 the earth, but when Barton looked 
 up he discovered its owner in the 
 person ot a hatless vouth who evi- 
 dently had been running hard, tor 
 his t'ace was flushed and he was pant- 
 ino; heavily. At the moment when 
 Barton cauirht sii^ht of him the lad 
 was staring at him with something 
 like terror in his look. 
 
 ** Becker," said Barton quietly ; 
 ** you are Becker, aren't vou." 
 
 ** V-ves," stammered the vouth, 
 still movino;. ** I thouLrht you 
 >vere — were " — 
 
 ** Barton r I am." 
 
 Becker shifted uneasily as it to 
 break into a run aiiain, o-lanciui^ over 
 
 0.: 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 his shoulder, then once more at- the 
 soldier. '* I — thought you were — 
 were dead/' 
 
 ** I was/* vsaid Barton quietly. 
 ** Hut I came back." 
 
 ** (jod ! " Becker tore away 
 through a fringe of bushes, never 
 turning his head. 
 
 What did this mean ? Barton 
 looked after him for a moment, then 
 walked on. Certainly the world 
 was strangely muddled. The val- 
 ley seemed much the same. Here 
 was the river, rippling in the sun- 
 light, the same old lazy river. There 
 were the works and the row of white 
 houses beyond. Further away was 
 the old white steeple and the water 
 tower. But the people — they were 
 as changed as if he had been away 
 for the length of a Rip Van Winkle 
 
 63 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 sleep, or as if some malign spirit had 
 cast a blight upon them. Witness 
 young Becker, if not stark crazy, 
 acting like a madman or a hunted 
 spirit. 
 
 What was this on the ground ! 
 Barton wondered if his mind were 
 going, or if he actually saw lying 
 among the first-fallen leaves the fig- 
 ure of a man. 
 
 He did not hurry to the spot. 
 Probably the thing was another trick 
 of his tortured brain. . . . 
 
 It was a man, a young man with 
 a red stain on his coat, an uncon- 
 scious man bleeding from some 
 wound nelar his shoulder. He 
 knew the man. . . . Yes, it was 
 Marcus Hadleigh — Hadleigh, dying 
 perhaps. 
 
 Barton said the name aloud, not as 
 64 
 
" Yc's, it was Marcus 
 HacUeiahr 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 if to call him, but as one might label 
 another phase of a bad dream. 
 
 At this the young man beside 
 whom Barton was kneeling opened 
 his eyes. For a moment the eyes 
 seemed to see nothing. Then they 
 steadied themselves in a searching 
 look at Barton's face, and the brows 
 gathered perplexedly. 
 
 " My God ! " cried Hadleigh, 
 clearing his throat. " You 're not 
 Barton ? " 
 
 " Yes I am, Hadleigh. Lie still for 
 a moment till I find what the trouble 
 is.'* Barton was awake again. 
 
 " I 'm shot," said Hadleigh, with 
 his eyes hard fixed on Barton. " He 
 hit me right — right here — in the 
 arm. It 's nothing at all, but I was 
 chasing him, and — and a weakness 
 
 came over me." 
 
 65 
 
THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 "Shut Up, Hadleigh, until I get 
 a compress here . . , there, that 's 
 better/' 
 
 Hadleigh began to tremble vio- 
 lently. " No . . . you can't be Bar- 
 ton. I 'm as crazy as a . . . No, 
 Barton 's dead, poor fellow. And 
 yet — God ! the hat, and the 
 coat!" — 
 
 " Hadleigh, will you shut up ? If 
 you have n't bled too much perhaps 
 you can get your arm up — here — 
 like — that 's it, that 's it. We ought 
 to know the trick. Mrs. Hender- 
 ling's house is only a little way off. 
 I 'd rather not leave you ; you must 
 try to walk." 
 
 " Of course I '11 walk," faltered 
 Hadleigh, his eyes still fascinated by 
 the face of Barton. " I 'm only a 
 little weak, you understand," 
 
 66 
 
THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Don't talk, I tell you. Put your 
 steam into those legs of yours. That 's 
 right. We shall only be a minute or 
 two. Keep still and listen to me. 
 I '11 talk. I was hard hit that day, 
 Hadleigh, but it was n't what you 
 thought. I pulled out, and after- 
 ward escaped. There was a mix-up 
 at the hospital, and I was a long time 
 in the fever. Probably it was n't a 
 hundred years. But I got through. 
 It was that fellow Binton, poor devil, 
 from Sandville, who was buried with 
 the two others. It was like some- 
 thing out of a book, an almighty 
 exciting, impossible romance. Any- 
 way, I 'm here. You see how this 
 lunatic world goes. After all your 
 trouble, Hadleigh, you had to come 
 home to get shot — There ! eyes 
 front ! We 're getting there ! " 
 
 67 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 They made him comfortable in 
 the little room off Mrs. Henderling's 
 porch — he refused to lie down. 
 When the doctor came he said it was 
 a close shave for the bone. Having 
 adjusted a new compress and bound 
 up the wound the doctor turned to 
 Barton. " Well done. You 're an 
 artist.** 
 
 '* He *s a soldier,*' said Hadleigh. 
 
 "He did a quick turn for me 
 once," returned Barton, looking down 
 at the wounded man. 
 
 The doctor, who had run over 
 on foot, said he would 'phone over 
 to the Hadleigh place and have a 
 carriage up right away. They had 
 discouraged Hadleigh's attempt to 
 tell how it happened, but he managed 
 to explain that he was shot while 
 driving, and that he saw his assailant. 
 
 68 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** One or two rough ones at the 
 works have had it in for me," he 
 said, *' and a young fellow, a mere 
 kid, who was discharged a week ago, 
 is the one who did it. I expected 
 to be attacked, but I did n*t expect a 
 bullet. I was driving across to the 
 Lynwood house.'* Hadleigh looked 
 over at Barton. " The fellow fired 
 from behind some bushes by the road. 
 If you get sight of my horse, doctor, 
 you might send the rig up.'* 
 
 " But you must go straight home," 
 warned the doctor. 
 
 Hadleigh nodded„ 
 
 '' Yes,'* he continued, when the 
 doctor went away, " I left the horse 
 and headed for him. I know the 
 man.*' 
 
 '' So do I," added Barton. " It 
 was young Becker." 
 
 69 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " How the devil ** — 
 
 ** I met him running." 
 
 ** It is a funny world! " cried Had- 
 leigh. " What an extraordinary thing 
 that you should stumble over me ! '* 
 
 " I almost eiid stumble over you/' 
 
 ** Do you know,'* pursued Had- 
 leigh, twisting in the arm-chair, ** I 
 can't believe it is you — back from 
 the dead. I tell you, when I opened 
 my eyes and saw you, it came over 
 me queerly like a dream that I was 
 dead and that I had joined you, Bar- 
 ton. It did n't even seem astonish- 
 ing. I took it quite for granted in 
 a way. Then when my senses 
 came" — 
 
 "You are talking too much, 
 Hadleigh, You are not badly hurt, 
 but you bled a good deal and you 
 must be quiet for a while. I shall 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 have to leave you if you can't . keep 
 mum/' 
 
 " I *11 be good if you don't keep 
 quiet, Barton, and will go on and tell 
 me everything. What are you doing 
 with your gun ? " 
 
 Barton was leaning forward, his 
 elbows on his knees, his hands en- 
 gaged with the revolver he had car- 
 ried home in virtue of that tribute to 
 sentiment by which a man is per- 
 mitted to buy his weapons from 
 the government. He had carried the 
 revolver within his blouse for the 
 boyish pleasure of parading it a little 
 in his home coming. 
 
 " You are right,'* said Barton, 
 studying the Remington, *' this is a 
 funny world. For instance, here I 
 was in the field. There you were 
 driving past. Now, what was to 
 
 71 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 prevent me from having a go at you 
 myself? Think how romantic it 
 would be if I were under suspicion," 
 and he threw open the revolver as if 
 he were breaking its back. 
 
 " Yes," admitted Hadleigh, mysti- 
 fied by the soldier's strange laugh. 
 " But I saw the fellow who did it. 
 That spoils the romance. Just as he 
 stood up I caught a fair sight of him. 
 It was Teddy Becker. We must get 
 the police after him. Not that I 
 care for the row. But he 's a dan- 
 gerous character. It 's a duty. Will 
 you do something for me. Barton ? '* 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " I want to send word over to the 
 Lynwoods." 
 
 " I '11 send it." 
 
 Hadleigh gave him a furtive look. 
 
 " Have you — been there ? '^ 
 
 72 
 
" ' IVhat are von doing 
 with jyoiir gun?' '' 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Yes," Barton answered shortly. 
 
 Hadleigh studied his face. He 
 could not read it. Barton went on 
 as if to prevent Hadleigh from pur- 
 suing this line of inquiry : " Shall 
 you dictate it, Hadleigh ? '' 
 
 " No, no ; write anything you like 
 and sign it yourself — just to tell 
 her that I have been hurt. Do 
 you know," continued Hadleigh, *' I 
 was just thinking how odd it would 
 be if you hadnt been there and she 
 should get such a note signed by 
 you I 
 
 " It would have been odd," ad- 
 mitted Barton. 
 
 He had looked about and half risen 
 as if to go in search of a scrap of 
 paper. He brought out a packet 
 from his pocket and looked it over 
 for a blank page. He found a sheet 
 
 73 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 blank on one side. He turned it 
 over and read : " Ever your faithful 
 sweetheart, Edith/' The words cut 
 him, and his temples began throbbing 
 again. " Ever your faithful sweet- 
 heart.*' Here was concentrated, sub- 
 limated irony. He would not have 
 thought that he could be guilty of 
 writing as he did on the back of this 
 sheet the few lines in which he 
 said the things he was asked to say. 
 
 They were very curt lines, he had 
 to admit, when he came to glance 
 them over. But this was no time 
 for fine writing. It was news of 
 Hadleigh that was the essential thing. 
 She would n't distress herself over the 
 medium nor over the manner of the 
 communication. He folded the sheet 
 and placed it in an envelope which 
 Mrs. Henderling ^ fetched for him 
 
 74 
 
THE GIRL <&• THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 when she saw him writing. .They 
 sent it away by Mrs. Henderling's 
 boy. 
 
 '' Barton/' said Hadleigh, when 
 he saw the other rise, " I want 
 to see more of you right away. 
 YouVe got lots of things to tell 
 me . . . and I 've got some things 
 to say to you. Just now I — I don't 
 somehow " • — 
 
 '' Well/' returned Barton in a dull 
 way, with a fling of his shoulders as 
 if to give to his words a lightness he 
 could not get into his voice, " keep 
 quiet to-day anyway. Here 's the 
 carriage — it's your own rig." 
 
 Barton helped him out to the gate, 
 and then with a laugh lifted him to 
 the seat. 
 
 " You must be getting into condi- 
 tion again. Barton," suggested Had- 
 
 75 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 leigh, who appeared to hate a pause 
 in the talk. 
 
 " O yes," agreed Barton, taking 
 the reins from the man, " I am in 
 the pink of condition/' 
 
 Hadleigh's mother and sister 
 met them near the house. The 
 doctor had added the news about 
 Barton to his 'phone message, and 
 the two women were in great ex- 
 citement. 
 
 '' It 's all right ! '' shouted Hadleigh. 
 Nevertheless his voice broke. 
 
 ** You poor boy ! '' exclaimed the 
 mother ; ** and Mr. Barton ! I can't 
 believe it ! '* 
 
 " Both things are true," said Bar- 
 ton. " He 's hurt and I 'm here. 
 I 'm going to turn him over to 
 you now." 
 
 When they had the wounded man 
 76 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 in the house Barton slipped .away 
 unnoticed. He stalked down the 
 railroad track, through the engine 
 yard, ignoring the shriek of a warn- 
 ing whistle, and strode on, head down, 
 past the factories and the long enclos- 
 ure of the rink until he found himself 
 back in town. 
 
 77 
 
OW, it will be un- 
 derstood that none 
 of these later hap- 
 penings was known 
 to Amanda Maud 
 Wiggins sitting in 
 her trysting place 
 in mute commun- 
 ion with an ugly 
 and inexcusable Japanese dragon that 
 ornamented a corner of Barton's 
 studio. 
 
 Amanda had spoken truly. Bar- 
 ton's studio was quiet. It formed 
 the north corner of the studio floor in 
 the Board of Trade building, farthest 
 from the noises of the street. If 
 
 78 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Amanda always resented the. five 
 flights of steps, and seldom neglected 
 to make a suitable comment thereon, 
 the good qualities of the uninhabited 
 studio could not be denied. 
 
 It was the only studio Amanda 
 ever had seen, and she took Joe 
 Gribsey's word for it that most of 
 them were pretty much the same 
 way. But the dust in the corners 
 annoyed her unspeakably at times, 
 and the inaccessible sabres, antlers, 
 masks and lanterns smote her griev- 
 ously. 
 
 " What this place needs,'' she had 
 said to Joe Gribsey on several occa- 
 sions, " is a good cleaning up." 
 
 " Not on your life," was Gribsey 's 
 invariable response. 
 
 " The fact is, Amanda," Joe had 
 explained to her in mitigation of his 
 
 79 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 refusal, " that you can't clean up 
 studios. That ain*t the way they do 
 it. You just dust off the things they 
 sit on and touch with their hands. 
 Once I dusted oflF one of Mr. Barton's 
 casts — that bushy-headed jay under 
 the angel — and he wouldn't speak 
 to me for three days." 
 
 While Amanda sat staring at the 
 Japanese dragon the door opened, 
 and the girl, turning, saw a soldier 
 standing under the Turkish blade 
 that supported the curtain of the 
 inner door. 
 
 For a moment Barton and Amanda 
 looked at each other without speaking. 
 Then Amanda found her voice. 
 
 *' The artist ain't in," she said. 
 
 " That 's where you *re wrong," 
 
 remarked Barton, peering about him. 
 
 " That 's where you Ve wrong.'* 
 
 80 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Well, Upon my word ! " was all 
 Amanda could say for a time. Pres- 
 ently she added, firmly, under an 
 accumulated resentment, ^* Who are 
 you looking for ? " 
 
 Barton glanced down at her, at 
 her big black eyes, at her round 
 chin and flushed cheeks, at her 
 heavy unmanageable hair. " Joe 
 Gribsey will do for a start-oflF," he 
 answered. 
 
 " He 's out just now," declared 
 Amanda, dismissal in her tone. 
 
 "' Is he ? Perhaps you know when 
 he '11 be back. I could n't find him 
 anywhere in the building." 
 
 " He '11 be back pretty soon." 
 
 " Perhaps you even know where 
 he's gone." 
 
 " I do. He 's gone for some gin- 
 ger pop." 
 
 6 8l 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 «01 He has, has he? Well, 
 now, I shouldn't want to spoil any- 
 thing. Don't mind my smoking, do 
 you ? '' Barton had crossed to the 
 old desk, found one of his pipes, and 
 put aside the newer one which he 
 pulled out of his coat with the Ma- 
 nila tobacco, 
 
 " Upon my word ! " repeated 
 Amanda, her eyes opening wider. 
 " If you don't beat all ! You just 
 make yourself to home, don't you ?" 
 
 " I 'm going to try to,'' admitted 
 Barton. 
 
 " Did n't you hear me say that the 
 artist ain't in ? What 's more, he 
 never will be in." 
 
 ** Is that so?" Barton sat down 
 opposite Amanda. " How odd. What 
 is he doing with himself?" 
 
 " He 's dead." . 
 
 82 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 *' Poor fellow." Barton pulled 
 slowly at the pipe. " Too bad. By 
 the way/' he pursued, " would you 
 mind telling me who is occupy- 
 ing this studio just now ? — the artist, 
 the other artist, being dead, you 
 know." 
 
 " There ain't nobody occupying 
 it," retorted Amanda. " I 'm just 
 visitin' here myself, visitin' Joe — 
 Mr. Gribsey." 
 
 " I see," nodded Barton. '' Nice 
 place, too." Presently he added : 
 " To tell you the truth, you have 
 made me feel a little awkward here. 
 You have n't meant to, I know." He 
 eyed her with a savage whimsicality 
 that might have puzzled a profounder 
 observer than Amanda. ** But I feel 
 that I have intruded somewhat. I 
 fancy that I ought to apologize to 
 you." ^3 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Amanda was framing some re- 
 sponse when Joe Gribsey's shuffle 
 sounded at the door, and an instant 
 later the janitor appeared, two ginger- 
 pop bottles in one hand, a yellow 
 package in the other. 
 
 A soldier sitting in converse with 
 Amanda in their trysting place, a 
 soldier smoking a pipe, and — 
 
 ** O Lord ! '' gasped Gribsey, drop- 
 ping the ginger pop and package. 
 The sight of this man looking so 
 much as the real Barton had when 
 he went away filled Gribsey with a 
 horror that was grotesquely expressed 
 in a countenance of singular mobility. 
 
 In a revulsion of feeling Barton 
 found this affair of the studio grimly 
 funny, as indeed it was. The abject 
 horror in Gribsey's shaven visage 
 almost made him laugh aloud, yet he 
 
 H 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 hastened to repair the damage he was 
 inflicting upon Gribsey's nervous 
 system. 
 
 " It 's all right, Joe/' he said, 
 " I 'm the real thing." 
 
 '* O Lord I '' repeated Gribsey. 
 
 " Joe Gribsey I '' cried Amanda, 
 "why don't you behave yourself? 
 Have you gone looney ? '* 
 
 " Barton ! '* stammered Gribsey. 
 "Don't yer see? — it's Barton that 
 was killed ! Lord ! I never knew 
 they looked so plain ! " 
 
 " Have some sense, Joe," ordered 
 Amanda, " he ain't no ghost." 
 
 "Of course not," declared Bar- 
 ton encouragingly, with a hand 
 outstretched; "not a bit of it. 
 Don't you know a live man when 
 you see him, Joe ? I 'm just Bar- 
 ton, alive again, not killed, you 
 
 8S 
 
THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 know, and come back to bother 
 you again." 
 
 ** Mr. Barton ! — is it — really — 
 you ! Well, I '11 be " — 
 
 "It's really me, Joe, and you've 
 spilled the ginger pop, and we are 
 gorgeously thirsty. Go right out and 
 get some more. Get several things, 
 Joe; you know what I like. I can't 
 eat anything just now, I 'm afraid, 
 but'' — 
 
 Joe could not be induced to go 
 until he had shaken Barton's hand 
 many times, and all but hugged him 
 in the excess of his joy and astonish- 
 ment. When at last he was shuffling 
 excitedly down the stairs again they 
 could hear him muttering, "Well, 
 I '11 be everlastin'ly jiggered ! " 
 
 As for Amanda, she had fastened a 
 
 new look upon Barton. "And so," 
 
 86 
 

 «3 ^ 
 
THE GIRL <&• THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 she said, "you are the artist- who 
 went to the war?'' 
 
 "Yes," replied Barton, "and, worse 
 luck, I am the artist who came home 
 again." 
 
 Amanda took the liberty of draw- 
 ing her chair a little closer. " I know 
 somethin' about you," she said. 
 
 "Do you?" asked Barton. 
 
 Amanda nodded. "I 'm glad to 
 see you back again, and I know 
 some one that '11 be gladder than I 
 am — gladder than any one else, I 
 suppose.'* 
 
 Barton expressed his interevSt. 
 
 " She \s the young lady in our 
 house. She 's Miss Lynwood." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Barton casually, 
 "your voice did sound familiar." 
 
 " Why, I never vsaw you before,^' 
 declared Amanda. 
 
 87 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 *'No/' admitted Barton, recalling 
 his cramped situation behind the 
 screen, " I don't believe you did. 
 Eh — how long have you been at the 
 Lynvvood house ? " 
 
 ** Since January. You went away 
 long before that did n't you ? " 
 
 "Long before that," repeated Bar- 
 ton slowly. " And when you go 
 away and stay a long time — a num- 
 ber of months," he added savagely, 
 until Amanda stared, "you can't tell 
 how things will be when you get 
 back, can you?" 
 
 " Maybe," said Amanda, expanding 
 in an emotion of confidential ex- 
 change. " Now when I don't see 
 Joe Gribsey for quite a while I get 
 so 's I can't wait to see him. Then 
 when I do see him he makes me 
 
 awful tired." 
 
 88 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " That is too bad/' returned Barton. 
 
 Amanda watched him interestedly 
 as he paced the studio. She saw his 
 face change as he walked. When he 
 finally turned sharply and asked, 
 ** Will you do me a favor ? '' she 
 was almost startled out of her pla- 
 cidity by the look in his eyes. 
 
 " I 'd just like to/' she answered, 
 and quite truly. 
 
 " There is something/' he vSaid, 
 *' that I should like to have you 
 carry back to Miss Lynwood. You 
 would n't lose it, would you ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, sir ! " 
 
 He turned to his desk and began 
 
 to write. Presently Amanda saw him 
 
 take off something from about his 
 
 neck, and though he pretended to 
 
 keep on writing she was sure that he 
 
 stared at the thing, whatever it was, 
 
 89 
 
THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 long and fixedly. She wondered 
 what object could hold his earnest 
 attention so long. 
 
 Presently he got up. " Please take 
 this back with you," he said, giving 
 her an envelope in which there was 
 something hard, like a locket maybe, 
 and a silver piece lay in her hand 
 underneath. 
 
 " Any message with it ? " asked 
 Amanda. 
 
 ** The message is there," replied 
 Barton. 
 
 Amanda held the envelope in both 
 of her hands for a moment, then 
 passed it debatingly from one to the 
 other, and ended by putting it in her 
 hat which lay near the pillows on the 
 Venetian chest. She thought that 
 Barton was watching to make certain 
 
 of the envelope's safe bestowal ; but 
 
 90 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 his fixed glance saw nothing, -and he 
 did not stir from where he stood in 
 the middle of the floor until Gribsey 
 came gasping back with several bot- 
 tles, some fruit, and a package of 
 cakes. 
 
 " Say ! '' burst out Joe, " nobody '11 
 believe it ! I just told Dunkley, and 
 he said I was gettin' worse ! Pete 
 Somers says some green goods man is 
 workin' us to swipe the studio stuff. 
 What a racket ! Gee — willikins ! 
 what '11 Miss Mitser and old Morgan 
 say ! And Jennings " — 
 
 " Are you goin' to hold them bot- 
 tles all day ? " asked Amanda. 
 
 " Give me time, Amanda, give me 
 time. I tell you, I 'm pretty much 
 disturbed myself ! Just to think ! — 
 Mr. Barton, this is the most wonder- 
 ful thing that ever happened ! Here 
 
 91 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 you were dead iis a herrin' to the whole 
 of us — dead and buried, dead and 
 writ up in the papers — and a mighty 
 mean yeller dog picture they had of 
 you, too — and then, here you walks 
 in as alive as a new policeman." 
 
 ** If I don't get a drink in another 
 minute," complained Barton, ** you '11 
 have to bury me again." 
 
 But Joe only laughed excitedly 
 
 as he pulled out the little table and 
 
 disposed the fare, Amanda helping. 
 
 " This is just rich ! " he went on. 
 
 ** My sister '11 say I been drinkin'. 
 
 I '11 have a tremenjous grind on 
 
 some folks. O, I '11 work something 
 
 good on Stovey all right ! * Bet 
 
 you,' I '11 say, * that Mr. Barton 
 
 wasn't killed at all.' * Go on!' 
 
 he '11 say ; * was n't he buried ? ' 
 
 * Maybe you won't bet,' I '11 say. 
 
 92 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 * Go on ! ' he 'II say ; * somebody 's 
 havin' fun with you.' * All right,' 
 I '11 say, ' you don't have to take me 
 up. There are others.' * See here,' 
 Stovey '11 say, *do you mean it ? Do 
 you want to throw away some 
 dough?' * I 'm your man,' I'll say. 
 And then" — 
 
 " Joe," interrupted Amanda, ''have 
 some sense." 
 
 "Take this bottle, Mr. Barton," 
 Joe said, pushing the bulk of the 
 supplies toward the soldier. " I '11 
 give you and Amanda the glasses. 
 I '11 take the cup. You see, me and 
 Amanda " — 
 
 " That was all right, Joe," Barton 
 interposed. " You were quite wel- 
 come." 
 
 " That 's what I told Amanda," 
 pursued Joe. " I said you 'd never 
 
 93 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 care — I mean even if you was 
 alive/' 
 
 " And being dead '' — 
 
 " Ho, ho ! — Yes ! You bein' dead 
 — what did you care! " Joe giggled 
 delightedly. " And us never sup- 
 posin' for a moment " — 
 
 " I thought it was very foolish," 
 commented Amanda. 
 
 Barton turned questioningly. 
 
 ** I mean coming up here," ex- 
 plained the girl. " But, you see, Joe 
 could n't get out only about one 
 night in the month " — 
 
 ** And that was n't enough, I should 
 think," was Barton's reassurance. 
 
 ** Well, he did n't think so," said 
 Amanda. 
 
 ** Nor you either, Amanda," ex- 
 postulated the janitor. ** You said 
 yourself" — 
 
 94 
 
THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Now, Joe, you know I' never 
 said a word about coming up 
 here." 
 
 " O no ! not about coming up 
 here. Of course not. Have some 
 of the grapes, Mr. Barton. You 
 did n't say nothin' about comin' up 
 here. That was my brilHant idea. 
 Ha, ha ! I worked that one myself. 
 But if you was to come and see 
 me — - 
 
 " That was very good of her, 
 Joe,'' suggested Barton. 
 
 " That 's true, Mr. Barton, and I 
 always tell her " — 
 
 " But I said to you, Joe, more 
 than once," declared Amanda, defen- 
 sively, " that it was n't exactly right 
 to be comin' here to a place that 
 was n't mine, nor yours either, even 
 if the artist was dead." 
 
 95 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** I forgive you/' said Barton. " I 
 can't see what you will do now. 
 I '11 be in the way.'' 
 
 Amanda laughed and Joe twisted 
 his restless face. 
 
 ** Never mind ! " cried Joe explo- 
 sively, " love will find a way ! " 
 
 " The idea ! " ejaculated Amanda 
 sternly. 
 
 " Perhaps I '11 be leaving again," 
 Barton remarked slowly. 
 
 Joe's hands dropped. " Mr. Bar- 
 ton ! " 
 
 " I should think," said Amanda, 
 her eyes wide, " that you would 
 want to stay — where you are, for a 
 little while." 
 
 " You don't mean to go back to 
 
 them battles ? " asked Joe, with a 
 
 perplexed stare at Barton. 
 
 " No, not that. I might go to 
 
 96 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 New York, for instance." Then 
 Barton smiled, it may be at a grim 
 thought of his confidence and his 
 audience. " But don't worry over 
 that yet," he added, catching up his 
 pipe. " Did I understand," he asked, 
 turning to Amanda, " that you don't 
 mind my smoking?" 
 
 ** She won't let me," remarked 
 Joe. 
 
 " Joe Gribsey ! I never stopped 
 you." 
 
 Barton watched them through the 
 smoke. " You see, Joe," he said, 
 " she feels more responsible for 
 you." 
 
 " I tell you, Mr. Barton," and Joe 
 
 put aside his glass, " I often thought 
 
 of you ridin' up in the front and 
 
 slashin' right into them, and I wished 
 
 I was there with you " — 
 7 97 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " The idea ! '' exclaimed Amanda, 
 with a derisive inflection. 
 
 " I did wish I was there,'* insisted 
 Gribsey ; ** right beside you, and 
 lettin' them have it. I often 
 thought" — 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Joe," pro- 
 tested Amanda, catching Gribsey 
 by the sleeve, " don't make a fool of 
 yourself! " 
 
 Joe turned resentfully. "Amanda, 
 you ain't got no patriotism in you. 
 I 'd have gone to the war if it had n't 
 been for you. You would n't let 
 me go." 
 
 <*No, I wouldn't. What good 
 would you have been.? You'd have 
 got lost." 
 
 ** Joe," suggested Barton, "you had 
 better stay home with her." 
 
 Joe twisted his face again. " I 
 
 98 
 
§D 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 <*, 
 
THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 guess you're right, Mr. Barton. ' I 'd 
 be mighty lonesome, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes," added Amanda, "and 
 you 'd be full of holes. You 're so 
 slow you 'd never dodge anythin'." 
 
 At this they all laughed. 
 
 " Dodging is a very important 
 part of it," said Barton. 
 
 But Joe looked incredulous. 
 " When Mr. Hadleigh was in here 
 — about a month ago, I think, the 
 last time, — he told me all about 
 how you was shot, — killed, he 
 said, — and I judge there wasn't 
 no dodgin' about you, Mr. Barton. 
 They all yelled to you, Mr. Hadleigh 
 says, and you would n't stop, and 
 that was how it happened. This is 
 just what he said : * That feller, Joe,' 
 he says, ^ was n't afraid of nothin' 
 at all.'" 
 
 LafC. '' 
 
THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Nonsense," muttered Barton. 
 " Why, Hadleigh was right along 
 with me — he caught me when I 
 tumbled off the horse.'* 
 
 Then Barton arose suddenly in a 
 way that made the two others under- 
 stand that they must go, which they 
 presently did, Joe carrying away the 
 empty bottles. 
 
 They had scarcely gone when 
 there was a tap at the door, and an 
 old man came in. It was Mor- 
 gan, the painter. He strode over 
 to Barton with both hands out- 
 stretched. 
 
 " It is true, then ! '' he cried husk- 
 ily, catching Barton by the shoulder. 
 " I did n't believe it. Welcome, my 
 boy ! " 
 
 " Glad to see you again, Mr. 
 Morgan,'* returnjed the younger man. 
 
 lOO 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " I have played truant for a ' long 
 time." 
 
 " You have, lad, and wt all 
 thought you had gone for good. 
 I thank God it was a mistake." 
 There were tears on old Morgan's 
 face. " It is the hell of war that 
 it takes away our young men, spills 
 our best blood, and leaves useless old 
 chaps like me behind. Yes," he 
 answered to the younger man's pro- 
 testing look, " there is something 
 infernally wrong about it. I remem- 
 ber. Barton, — no, I won't sit down 
 just now, — the day you stood in 
 my door, wearing your soldier's togs, 
 to say good-bye. After you had 
 gone I dropped my brushes and sat 
 there brooding, my heart sick, that 
 you should be given up and that I, a 
 puttering old fossil " — 
 
 lOI 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Mr. Morgan/' interposed Bar- 
 ton, "you wrong yourself, and I *m 
 afraid you wrong me by exaggerat- 
 ing the little service I was able to 
 offer. Do you suppose any of us 
 forget what you did in '62?'' 
 
 Morgan turned away and came 
 
 slowly back. " You make me think 
 
 of myself. Barton. But it was very 
 
 different with me. I must tell you 
 
 about it some other time. You will 
 
 have your own affairs to-day. It is 
 
 all very different." He paused at 
 
 the door and turned about. " Yes, I 
 
 shall tell you all about it some day, if 
 
 you can be bothered with the laments 
 
 of a lonesome old man. It was very 
 
 different with me. I did n't want to 
 
 come home. You see. Barton, I had 
 
 a great disappointment before I went 
 
 away." 
 
 102 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 It was impossible that he should 
 understand Barton's look. 
 
 " I had been crushed. I did n't go 
 for love of my country. I went in 
 hope of hurting some one who had 
 hurt me. But I didn't succeed. 
 She never cared." 
 Barton winced. 
 
 "Forgive me, my boy, for this 
 impulsive whimper. But this thing 
 has brought everything back upon 
 me. I thought I was hard as iron, 
 and the sight of you has softened me 
 shamefully. I want your story as 
 soon as you have time to tell it. 
 Good-bye, for to-day. I praise the 
 Almighty that you are safely back. 
 You have everything to live for." 
 
 Barton grasped the old painter's 
 hand in silence. 
 
 103 
 
art fl\ 
 
 EVtJ 
 
 HIS was one of 
 
 the ironies of life. 
 
 Everything to live 
 
 for! 
 
 For a long time 
 
 after Morgan had 
 
 gone Barton sat 
 
 there stupidly, alone 
 
 again with himself, alone in his old 
 
 haunt, alone with all that reminded 
 
 him of his earlier dreams — more 
 
 alone than he had felt himself to 
 
 be in the hospital cot where he 
 
 had battled out the long fight with 
 
 fever. 
 
 104 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 He caught up a portfolio arid lifted 
 his sketches and studies one by one 
 without seeing any. It was no use. 
 His mind would not work. His head 
 had not been right since the fever. 
 Something had broken. 
 
 He threw aside the portfolio, lighted 
 his pipe again and tried to pull him- 
 self together. He must get at his 
 letters and papers. There were 
 people he must see. He must take 
 his place in the world again. All 
 this seemed like a mountain of weight 
 upon him. He had no heart for any 
 of it. Nothing seemed to be of any 
 use. 
 
 Providence had mixed things up in 
 an astonishing way. The beginning 
 of everything that had gone wrong 
 was the day of the skirmish. It 
 was a swift game they were play- 
 
 105 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ing with the enemy, a nimble and 
 an ingenious enemy. It was all very 
 well to call an enemy a savage, but a 
 Mauser rifle is a wonderfully imper- 
 sonal agency of communication, tak- 
 ing orders only from its master. 
 That whine of the bullets — a funny 
 thing ! And when you are hit, that 
 is a droll thing, too, a novel sensation, 
 quite unlike anything else that ever 
 happens to you. 
 
 Just before that Hadleigh had given 
 him a quick look. Whether it ex- 
 pressed a suspicion that he had been 
 hit, or some intuitive sense of an im- 
 pending stroke, it said plainly enough 
 (as it seemed afterward) '* Good-bye! " 
 When he did reel from the horse less 
 than a minute later Hadleigh's arm 
 was there. Hadleigh had given a 
 
 little growl when he caught him, and 
 
 106 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 had muttered some question that he 
 did not quite catch. When he opened 
 his eyes for a moment Hadleigh's face 
 was bending over him, and he had 
 the feeling that Farren, the surgeon, 
 was near by tearing at the clothes of 
 another man who had been hit. 
 Then there were two faces, and one 
 of them, which was Farren's, shook 
 sadly, until, far gone as he was, he 
 felt that he might as well go ahead 
 and die. 
 
 The next faces were dusky, and he 
 knew that he was a prisoner. He 
 owed a big debt to that Tagalog lieu- 
 tenant with the little hands and a 
 shadow of a moustache who had done 
 so much to make him comfortable. 
 The month of waiting for the wound 
 to heal was not so hard to bear as the 
 
 two months of waiting for the chance 
 
 107 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 to escape. That week's agony before 
 he got to the American camp was 
 what brought on the fever. Indeed, 
 when he stairirered in on that wet 
 
 CO 
 
 Sunday morning he was too far gone 
 to understand what they said about 
 the troop. 
 
 How they Hgured it out that he 
 was Hinton of Sandville made little 
 difference, after all. An earlier fugi- 
 tive had carried word that Barton 
 died earlv in his captivity ; so that, to 
 be sure, he had to be Binton or some 
 one else. 
 
 The fever was real. At the end 
 of five weeks he was well enough to 
 say tliat he was n't Binton. Then 
 the nurse patted his head and told 
 him to be quiet. After a while he 
 asked them to send word in the de- 
 spatches that he was alive — just as 
 
 108 
 
''iiadlei^Ws face was h end- 
 in ff over him.'"' 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Binton was dead. He took it for 
 granted that they complied with his 
 recjuest, l)ut discovered afterward, 
 when lie got to Manila, that they 
 had not. A singular rage then came 
 over him. He let them call him 
 Binton in the discharge, and after 
 writing a cahle message he tore the 
 thing up. "I will carry my own 
 message,'* he said. 
 
 Nevertheless, when he got to San 
 Francisco he went straight to the 
 telegraph office. At that moment he 
 learned that he might catch an im- 
 mediate train, and he deferred his 
 message for the time. The train 
 worried and sickened him, and once 
 or twice when his ohligation to an- 
 nounce his coming appeared to him 
 he found himself saying, feverishly, 
 
 ** I will carry my own message." It 
 
 109 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 was a poor joke. He saw this in 
 retrospect. Although he did not 
 know how sad a joke it had been, he 
 let it measure for him the degree of 
 his weakness. 
 
 The dusk was deepening and the 
 studio shadows were falling with 
 strange images. This symbolized for 
 him the flavor of life, for the things 
 he had taken for granted, had called 
 the real things, the things that were 
 worth while, were fading away, 
 and only the fantasies, the mocking 
 ghosts of things, seemed to be pres- 
 ent and real. 
 
 He lighted the candle in the old 
 tall candlestick, staring for a while 
 into the flame, listening to the dis- 
 tant noises of the street, and wonder- 
 ing what he should do when the 
 candle had burned out, — what 
 
 I lO 
 
" The irain worried and 
 sickened bimJ" 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 he should do with that hopeless 
 night. 
 
 It was now that he did that which 
 he had not the courage to do in the 
 light of day — he lifted the curtain 
 from before the unfinished portrait 
 he had begun soon after they were 
 engaged. He had thought it was 
 going to be one of the best things he 
 had done. 
 
 As long ago as when he had his 
 year at Munich, they used to say of 
 Barton's pictures of women, that all 
 of them had the madonna look, just 
 as they said of Melkin's women that 
 they were all grisettes. At one time 
 Barton used to think that he resented 
 this comment as if it implied a limi- 
 tation. All of his themes were not 
 madonnas. He should be able to 
 
 paint a bacchante if he wanted to. 
 
 1 1 1 
 
THK (M R L &• THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 One d;iy when he had Impulsively 
 expressed something of this to Pell- 
 manii, the master, PeUmann after a 
 moment's silence said: ** My triend, 
 every man, when he paints a woman, 
 paints the female version of himself.'* 
 At which Barton laughed, for Pell- 
 mann was not a Hatterer. 
 
 This picture o( Kdith exhibited no 
 flight oi fancy. It certainlv was a 
 good likeness. She hail a pair ot the 
 most perfect eyes he had ever seen. 
 There was a girl who sat in the 
 sketch class at the Art Student's 
 League who had eves something 
 like them, but that girl's eyes had too 
 much history in them. This was the 
 marvellous thing about lulith*s eyes, 
 that, without the signs of history, 
 they had such definite evidences of 
 perception and feeling. Beyond the 
 
 1 I 2 
 
THK (; I K L & JIIK GUARDSMAN 
 
 form and color and movement was 
 the /oo^, the thing that made them 
 American eyes, that paradox of wist- 
 fid intelligence, of unawed inquiry, 
 that piques and puzzles the foreign 
 ohserver, and challenges the native to 
 be his best. 
 
 Her nose was not quite so good. 
 . . . No, it was not so perfect, 
 though even its faults, he said to him^ 
 self, were never commonplace. Her 
 mouth belonged in the partnership 
 with her eyes. Hie lips had that 
 regularity, without coldness, that in 
 some ways was harder to express on 
 canvas than the elusive mystery, the 
 feminine secret of her eyes. 
 
 What a mockery such a shadow of 
 her now was! The painted lips were 
 not sullied by the things she had said; 
 but for this very reason the whole 
 
 8 I 13 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 face had become to him like that of 
 one who was dead. The other Edith 
 had gone out of his life. By a trick 
 of fate this face was no longer his. 
 Those lips. . . . 
 
 He got up again, and drew into 
 the rays of the candle some of the 
 canvases that had submissively faced 
 the wall, like naughty children. Here 
 was Dolly Cameron, who had worn 
 a gypsy rig at the lawn party ; who 
 had read his hand and declared that 
 he was going to live happily ever after. 
 Clever girl, Dolly ; but not a good 
 prophetess certainly. That was a 
 very bad guess of Dolly's. Live hap- 
 pily ever after ! 
 
 Ah ! here was old Nottway, the 
 
 model, who used to complain so much 
 
 of his rheumatism and the stairs — 
 
 not peevishly, nor indirectly, but as 
 
 114 
 
■,-i 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ►ij; 
 
 . 
 
 .^ 
 
 A, 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 S 
 
 •>-' 
 
 '^. 
 
 
 
 Q 
 
 o 
 
THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 one man to another. Poor oldNott- 
 way! with his white hair and austere 
 countenance, recalHng the days when 
 he had been a delegate to the Con- 
 stitutional Convention, when he occu- 
 pied an honored seat on the bench, 
 when they even wanted to force upon 
 him the nomination for lieutenant 
 governor, — Nottway, with his courtly 
 bow in the presence of a woman and 
 his magnificent appetite for cheese 
 and beer, Nottway was fit for any 
 imposing part. He had been a bishop 
 for Hilton, a monk for Snedeker, a 
 Lear for De Faronne, a ruined banker 
 for Chavin, an alchemist for Malloy. 
 Yea, one man in his time plays 
 many parts. 
 
 This leonine face of a woman was 
 painted from Gribsey's mother, a 
 talkative dame with a convulsive 
 
 115 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 chuckle, who furnished to Barton 
 much real entertainment by her rem- 
 iniscences of Joe's erratic boyhood. 
 "When we had the farm/' said Mrs. 
 Gribsey, " before Samuel died, Joe 
 used to deliver milk and vegetables in 
 Hawsondale. Somehow he always 
 had three or four dogs with him, and 
 you could tell by the howl that went 
 up in the village that Joe was on one 
 of his deliverin' trips. Them dog 
 fights got to be such a nuisance that 
 we had to forbid Joe to own a dog, 
 and we only allowed one dog at the 
 farm, and made Joe chain this up 
 before he started. But that did n't 
 do any good. Dogs waited for him 
 down by the schoolhouse. They 
 broke their chains in the village to 
 join his pack. We had lots of trouble 
 
 over it." 
 
 ii6 
 
THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 This little pale blue fairy was 
 Gladys. No easy thing to paint 
 Gladys. It was like painting a but- 
 terfly on the wing. Young as the 
 child was, she knew how to tease him. 
 It was a fancy of his that he never 
 should be able to keep her picture 
 in the canvas, and that some day she 
 would step out of it and come over 
 to tease him with the flowers in her 
 hand, like some tangible fairy in this 
 world of shadows. 
 
 Dreams ! all dreams ! Good-bye, 
 Gladys ! Good-bye to all your fairy- 
 land of sweet ideals ! Good-bye to 
 the days when life is too young for 
 the deeper disappointments ! Good- 
 bye to the days that did not know 
 fever and its legacies ! 
 
 We take some things hard when 
 
 they come to us for the first time, and 
 
 117 
 
THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 it may be, as Barton was thinking, 
 that some things can come but once. 
 Glory and grief have their grand 
 crescendos. At this hour the air was 
 full of the cries of salutation to the 
 victorious admiral who also had come 
 home across the sea. Yet the victo- 
 rious admiral had not sailed home- 
 ward with a higher expectancy than 
 Barton had felt in his journey over 
 the Pacific and across the continent. 
 When he had looked out over the 
 prairie, jaded as he was by the journey, 
 the sky had seemed to be written 
 wide with hope. Perhaps he had 
 been made a little cynical by his 
 physical sufferings; but no shadow 
 of real doubt or fear had crossed his 
 homeward path, and as he drew near 
 to his destination the unnatural petu- 
 lance, the brooding silence that ap- 
 
 ii8 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 peared in his conduct in those last 
 hours at Manila, and in his resolution 
 to carry the message himself, seemed 
 to be wholly melting away. 
 
 A thousand times during the jour- 
 ney he had recalled the day of the 
 parade, the first parade of the troop 
 after their betrothal, before there was 
 any thought of a war and foreign ser- 
 vice, when she had waved her hand- 
 kerchief to him, an unmistakable 
 radiance shining in her face. 
 
 And yet it is a man's imperative 
 duty to shut out his troubles, to draw 
 the veil of his resolution against the 
 sight of his grief — to forget, if he 
 can. 
 
 Forget ! It was like trying to for- 
 get his fever, to forget that it still 
 clung to him, sapping his nerve, dull- 
 ing his senses. 
 
 119 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 As if to blot out his cares he drew 
 the cloth over the face of Edith, and 
 turning away flung himself upon the 
 couch. 
 
 The couch was a bed of fire, and 
 he arose again to pace the floor, to 
 stop once more before the veiled 
 frame. She was there, just the 
 same. . . . 
 
 Far into the morning he fell, ex- 
 hausted, into the chair near the 
 frame, dropped his heavy head upon 
 his arm, and yielded at last to the 
 pitying caress of sleep. 
 
 Some dreams are never told. They 
 are for the dreamer alone. 
 
 When a man has had a fever, and 
 the night air bears an insidious chill, 
 there are things the man should 
 not do. Yet the gray dawn, tracing 
 anew with its pale finger the night- 
 
 I20 
 
'*// was like iryiug to 
 forget his fever:- 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 dimmed images of reality, found Bar- 
 ton still there, his head upon his arm, 
 wrapped in the mystery of slumber. 
 
 The city about him waked and 
 stirred, but he slept on. There was 
 a sound on the stair and a knock 
 at his door, but sleep still held his 
 senses. 
 
 The noise did not arouse him, but 
 who shall explain the potency of an- 
 other life near our own, another heart 
 beating high, other lips quivering in 
 a strong emotion ? 
 
 The door had been standing ajar, 
 and a rustling figure crept in like the 
 dawn itself. . . . 
 
 When Barton staggered to his feet 
 he found himself staring at Edith, or 
 what might have been Edith, per- 
 haps; Edith, her white garden hat 
 fallen to her shoulders, her raglan 
 
 121 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 suggesting somehow a hurried, im- 
 pulsive departure from the house. 
 
 For a moment neither of them 
 made a sound. That she should be 
 other than some creature of his 
 dreams was to Barton beyond belief. 
 That she who had dismissed him yes- 
 terday with such unspeakable preci- 
 sion should now be standing there at 
 the studio door in the early morning 
 light was too much for his fevered 
 head to grasp at once. 
 
 " Edwin ! *' she cried, starting for- 
 ward under the restraint of the un- 
 readable stare in his eyes. *' Did 
 you — did you write that cruel note 
 about Marcus ? Did you send this 
 locket back to me ? " 
 
 "Yes," he said slowly, " I did.'* 
 
 " It is no — no trick, then — they 
 came from you?" 
 
 122 
 
THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 She made as if to go closer to him, 
 her hands working. One of the 
 hands held the locket. 
 
 "Yes/* he answered again, ** they 
 did." 
 
 ^* I can*t believe " — she looked 
 abjectly at him. "O Edwin! what 
 did you mean ? If I had disappointed 
 you'' — 
 
 " Disappointed me ! My God ! '' 
 Barton made a tortured gesture. 
 " Disappointed me ! Hear her ! " 
 He drew himself up, his fingers 
 clutching a corner of the nearby desk. 
 *' Did you come here to tell me I 
 was a fool to be disappointed .? It is 
 an extraordinary mark of considera- 
 tion. A man is a great fool to be 
 disappointed." 
 
 "O Edwin! you are disappoint- 
 ing me." 
 
 123 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** Perhaps I am," he returned, with 
 a bitter inflection. "Perhaps I won't 
 do myself any credit as I am now. 
 You see — some things that I have 
 gone through with have unsteadied me 
 a little, made it hard for me to take 
 disappointment in a light, easy way. 
 It is a pity. But it can't make any 
 difference to you. You are foolish to 
 concern yourself over so small a 
 matter." 
 
 " So small a matter ? " 
 
 She looked at him in despair, draw- 
 ing back until she stood again by the 
 door. And this was Barton — Bar- 
 ton, her lover, dwindling from his 
 heroic lines because she, believing 
 him dead, had listened to his friend. 
 For this offence, these insults. 
 
 '* So small a matter," repeated Bar- 
 ton in a hard tone, his lip quivering. 
 
 124 
 
\ ' 
 
 Jy^ 
 
 *li r 
 
 ' Ihil s/.h' bail passed 
 chnvii the stair.'' 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 And this was Edith Lynwood, the 
 girl who had seemed to love him 
 before all the world, yet who was 
 not content to let him suffer undis- 
 turbed from the steady, unmitigated 
 blow she had inflicted the day before. 
 
 " Pardon me ! '' he blurted, " I 
 might have offered you a chair after 
 this climb." 
 
 She wished to speak again, but she 
 was choking. 
 
 As for Barton, the room swam 
 about him and there was a loud noise 
 in his ears. 
 
 When she went out suddenly, with- 
 out another word, he faltered as if 
 to follow her, and stumbled like a 
 wounded man. He got to his feet 
 again and sprang to the door. 
 
 But she had passed down the stair. 
 
 125 
 
HEN the fluttering 
 figure of her young 
 
 r/m^,. w-^;^-^ A'W-'S'ti mistress came back 
 >>^ \\> ,^^ through the garden, 
 
 not pausing any- 
 where, and passed 
 to the second-floor 
 room without a 
 sound, Amanda Maud saw and won- 
 dered. Plainly there was some mys- 
 terious significance in this early 
 morning absence, in this silent, al- 
 most stealthy return. 
 
 1 26 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Amanda worked with a slightly 
 accelerated rapidity, singing softly her 
 favorite unfinished song about the 
 "wild moor/' with more than the 
 usual effect of being detached from 
 the key. The truth is that Amanda's 
 variations from true tone had that 
 invariableness in which the listener 
 often finds a new and original har- 
 mony, a peculiar and fascinating con- 
 sistency, that gives to the major a fine 
 minor flavor which even an exacting 
 taste might hesitate to lose. 
 
 A little later in the morning 
 
 Amanda appeared in her habitual 
 
 house-dress, of which the skirt was a 
 
 shade too short to be conventional. 
 
 Hadleigh once had remarked that 
 
 Amanda looked like a light-opera 
 
 housemaid. Wherever she acquired 
 
 the inspiration, Amanda clung with 
 
 127 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 a certain characteristic insistence to 
 her short skirt and to the Uttle lace 
 cap on her head, — an ornament 
 which Edith scarcely regarded as 
 consonant with the simplicity of 
 their suburban menage^ but which ex- 
 isted and prevailed (like certain other 
 domestic minutiae) in deference, or 
 at least in acquiescence, to Amanda's 
 harmlessly authoritative habits. 
 
 In justice to Amanda, it is to be 
 observed that the garb of black, with 
 the linen and the flip of lace in her 
 hair, was entirely becoming, though 
 this was not a point which really 
 appeared to weigh with her. 
 
 That Amanda was, indeed, in- 
 fluenced by certain infrequent but 
 memorable visits to the theatre, ap- 
 peared in other of her preferences. 
 
 She had ventured to suggest that Mr. 
 
 128 
 
THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Tibbetts should wear spats and a house 
 coat with a green quilted lining. Her 
 habit in the announcement of callers 
 likewise was traceable to a sense of 
 the pictorial and the dramatic. She 
 resented the fact that there was not 
 a footman who should be impertinent 
 and whom she should strike playfully 
 with her duster. 
 
 But there was nobody but Joe 
 Gribsey, who, singularly, filled no 
 theatrical ideal, and whom she ha- 
 bitually chided for being unkempt and 
 impossible. Joe was her one reserva- 
 tion, — a circumstance in which we 
 may perceive a cheering feminine 
 characteristic. 
 
 There was, however, one particular 
 in which Joe soothed, if he did not 
 altogether meet, Amanda's romantic 
 ideals. He wrote frequent and al- 
 
 9 129 
 
The girl &- the guardsman 
 
 most ardent letters. On this morn- 
 ing Amanda found herself re-reading 
 a letter from Joe that was at least 
 three days old. 
 
 " Dear Amanda [it said] : As usual, I 
 have been thinking about you all day. I 
 have quite a headache to-night, so I thought 
 I would write you a few lines." 
 
 " Now that 's what I call silly," 
 murmured Amanda to herself, ** and 
 he calls seven pages a few lines. 
 Huh ! A few lines ! I wish he had 
 took writin' lessons. He writes as 
 bad as Mr. Tibbetts. I suppose it *s 
 what they call a business hand." 
 
 " I guess you know, Amanda [the let- 
 ter continued], that I never think of no- 
 body but you. I don't think I could if 1 
 wanted to. You fill my inmost thoughts. 
 Why that Miss Mitson, the woman artist 
 at the back said yesterday that she was 
 
 130 
 
' ' Ri'-rcadiiiif a Idler 
 from Joey 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 very fond of me think of that. You 
 know the one I mean the one that paints 
 cats. I got her a new cat yesterday. She 
 says I would make a good husband for 
 some nice girl.*' 
 
 "The idea!'* cried Amanda, and 
 the words might have passed for a 
 salutation, since Joe himself inoppor- 
 tunely appeared at the door, shorn of 
 even his usually primitive effects of 
 special decoration. Evidently he had 
 left the Board of Trade Building in 
 a hurry. 
 
 ** What *s that you 're readin', 
 Amanda?** 
 
 " None of your business, Joe Grib- 
 sey. Tell me right off what on earth 
 you 're doin' here ? I suppose you '11 
 be discharged before you get back. 
 Anybody 'd think you had n't seen 
 nobody yesterday afternoon." 
 
 131 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " That ain't answerin' my question, 
 Amanda. What are you readin' ? " 
 " I told you none of your business/* 
 Joe rashly seized her about the 
 waist, and sought to catch hold of the 
 letter which she firmly withheld. 
 "Joe Gribsey, let me go ! '* 
 " Let me see the letter, Amanda." 
 " I won't. I told you to let me 
 go — or I '11 use force." 
 " After you let me see " — 
 Amanda had a strong arm, and there 
 was a fine ** unhand me" quality in 
 her method of casting off Joe, who 
 contributed a perhaps unexpected 
 grotesqueness to his repulse by sprawl- 
 ing on the floor. 
 
 " Well, you need n't 'a' been so 
 rough, Amanda," complained the de- 
 feated janitor. 
 
 **Then please keep your place," 
 132 
 
" ' You need tit \i' been so 
 rough, Amanda / ' " 
 
THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 observed Amanda, showing him her 
 white teeth. 
 
 ** I suppose you mean stay here/' 
 growled Joe. " O, I can keep my 
 place ! I can take a hint. A person 
 don't have to explain things so much 
 to me. When I ain't welcome I can 
 generally tell it. When people don't 
 want to see me when I come 
 special " — 
 
 ** Joe Gribsey," she commanded, 
 " don't draw a long face, now. Have 
 some sense. What did you come 
 for ? I should say you was out of 
 your head comin' this time of day and 
 riskin' your place." 
 
 ** It ain't my senses that's wrong," 
 complained Joe, appropriating a com- 
 paratively remote chair near the 
 door. 
 
 " I suppose you mean mine," re- 
 ^33 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 torted Amanda, lifting her eyebrows 
 at him. 
 
 '* No, I don't; I mean the soldier's." 
 
 " O ! Is he actin' queer too ? " 
 
 ** I should say so. It beats the 
 cars the way things has been goin'.'' 
 
 " Since I was there ? " 
 
 <*Yep. This mornin'. First very 
 early comes your Miss Lynwood." 
 
 ** Miss Lynwood ?" 
 
 " Yep. That was funny, was n't 
 it?" 
 
 *' I knew it," remarked Amanda, 
 which was not true ; but it was un- 
 desirable, for reasons of discipline, that 
 Joe should be flattered by the privi- 
 lege of conveying too much infor- 
 mation. 
 
 "Did she tell you?" 
 
 "No; of course not. But I knew 
 
 it." 
 
 134 
 
THE GIRL (&• THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ''And pretty soon/' Joe went on, 
 "she goes downstairs cryin'/' 
 
 "Cryin'?'' 
 
 " Cryin' soft to herself. It broke 
 me all up. I was standin' then in by 
 Morgan's door. She did n't see me. 
 Then I found this locket on the 
 steps. I know it 's hers," added Joe, 
 as Amanda came over to take the 
 trinket from his hand. 
 
 " It 's the locket he gave me to 
 take to her," said Amanda. 
 
 "By and by I hear him walkin' 
 up and down the place. Then when 
 I come upstairs next time it was 
 quiet and I knocked at the door. 
 'Come in,' he says, and there he is 
 sittin' in front of Miss Lynwood's 
 picture lookin' Hke a ghost for fair 
 this time. *I wish you'd get me 
 some breakfast, Joe,' he says. But 
 
THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 he did n't eat it, and when that Eye- 
 talian feller that sells casts came up 
 he nearly threw him downstairs. By 
 and by he was walkin' and walkin* 
 again. What 's up, Amanda ? It 
 seems an awful pity." 
 
 "What 's up ? " returned Amanda, 
 with a touch of commiseration for 
 her companion's inferior perceptions. 
 " You can see what 's up. They 've 
 had words." 
 
 " But can't they get over it like 
 us ? " 
 
 "Amanda!" came the metallic 
 tones of Mr. Tibbetts, who stood 
 somewhat flushed in the door- 
 way. 
 
 " Lord ! how you frightened me, 
 Mr. Tibbetts!" 
 
 "That," declared Mr. Tibbetts, 
 
 " is because your mind is wander- 
 
 136 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ing and your conscience unprepared. 
 Where is my hat?" 
 
 " Which hat, Mr. Tibbetts ? '' 
 
 " The soft brown hat.'' 
 
 *'With the black band?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I don't know, Mr. Tibbetts. I 
 ain't seen it lately." 
 
 The old man fidgeted angrily. 
 " You 've been cleaning up around 
 here again, I suppose ! " 
 
 "Mr. Tibbetts, that ain't so. I 
 ain't cleaned nothin'." 
 
 Amanda looked resentfully after 
 the retreating figure. " That 's the 
 way he 's been actin'," she sighed to 
 Joe. "What are they all crazy 
 about?" 
 
 " I tell you, Amanda," asserted Joe, 
 with a consoling eflFect, " it's this love 
 business. It makes everybody a little 
 
 ^37 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 crazy sooner or later. Mr. Tibbetts 
 is got it like the rest. He 's been 
 spoonin' around the widder Willis 
 lately, and I suppose the people in the 
 widder Willis's house is wonderin* 
 what s/ie 's crazy about." 
 
 Amanda grinned appreciatively, an 
 oblique glance of reminiscence in her 
 eyes. 
 
 ** Anyway, Amanda, I wish we 
 could get this patched up somehow." 
 
 ** Us?" demanded the girl. 
 
 "Yep, why not? Mr. Barton '11 
 just worry me sick if things keep 
 on this way. Look here, Amanda," 
 and Joe hitched his chair nearer to 
 the other into which Amanda had 
 debatingly dropped. *' I '11 bet it 's 
 just like it was with us that time — 
 just a mistake." 
 
 Amanda nodded conservatively. 
 138 
 
THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 '' Very likely," she said. 
 
 " Maybe it 's about that other fel- 
 ler you tell me about." 
 
 She looked at him squarely. "Mr. 
 Hadleigh ? " 
 
 - Yep." 
 
 "I've been thinkin' that," said 
 Amanda, judicially. This was not 
 true either, but it was necessary to 
 preserve her priority. " I dare say 
 that*s where the trouble is." She 
 looked down at the locket. " I wish 
 I knew what to do with this." 
 
 "Won't you give it to her.?" 
 
 "I was just thinkin'," mused 
 Amanda, a sense of grave respon- 
 sibility in her tone. 
 
 At this Mr. Tibbetts reappeared. 
 "Young man," he said to Joe, 
 "which way are you going when you 
 go?" 
 
 •39 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Down Wilton Avenue, sir/* 
 
 " I wish/' continued Mr. Tibbetts, 
 his manner indicating some new con- 
 viction or resolve, — Amanda won- 
 dered whether he had hopelessly 
 abandoned the search for his hat, — 
 " I wish you would deliver this letter 
 for me at the office of the Fordwell 
 Company. It must positively get 
 there before twelve o'clock, under- 
 stand, or else," and Mr. Tibbetts bent 
 a severe admonitory glance upon Joe, 
 ** you might as well not take it at all. 
 It is very important." 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Joe, meekly, as 
 Mr. Tibbetts retreated. 
 
 The janitor continued to hold his 
 hand where it had poised itself to re- 
 ceive the silver sop which accompa- 
 nied the letter. He worked his palm 
 
 reflectively, grimacing at the dime. 
 
 140 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 "The old man is very economical, 
 ain't he, Amanda?" 
 
 "Well, he'd never throw nothin' 
 away," admitted the girl. "He'll 
 expect you to run your legs off for 
 that." 
 
 " A dime 's a dime, anyway," 
 expressed Joe*s philosophy of the 
 moment. 
 
 This being sufficiently uncombat- 
 able, Amanda contented herself with 
 saying, " Now, you 'd better skip, 
 Joe." 
 
 Joe turned resentfully. "That*s 
 right, Amanda, chase me out. Well, 
 I can take a hint. Good-bye ! " 
 
 This was accompanied by one of 
 Joe's inelegant essays at an embrace. 
 
 " Joe Gribsey, let me go ! " 
 
 " Good-bye, Amanda." 
 
 " I tell you to let me go," warned 
 141 
 
THE GIRL (S* THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the girl, her head splendidly reserved, 
 and a moment later Joe*s voice issued 
 from the back porch. " Well, you 
 need n't 'a been so rough, Amanda/* 
 
 But Amanda only smiled her im- 
 perturbable smile, watching the young 
 man as he disappeared through the 
 gate. 
 
 Then her smile turned to a thought- 
 ful frown. Certainly it was a great 
 pity that matters should be moving in 
 this way. Amanda's admiration for 
 Edith Lynwood had been definite and 
 controlling from the first. It was 
 impossible that any of Amanda's 
 emotions should be accompanied by 
 awe, yet her devotion to Miss Lyn- 
 wood had in it much of real rever- 
 ence. Her first impression that it 
 was a lonesome household had not 
 
 been due to any deficiency in its mis- 
 
 142 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 tress. Edith had always been cheer- 
 ful and amiable. The face of that 
 portrait of her mother in the little 
 drawing-room might have prophesied 
 that she would be — Amanda often 
 paused before this face with feelings 
 of large respect. Had Joe Gribsey 
 been less jealous of a sacred security 
 in everything at the studio, she might 
 have seen there something like a new 
 version of the same face. 
 
 Perhaps because the portrait of 
 Edith had been painted at the Lyn- 
 wood house — all save one sitting 
 at the studio — Joe never had had 
 information of the relationship, and, 
 indeed, never until now had seen the 
 portrait uncovered. Amanda's vague 
 information about a lover of Miss 
 Edith's who had not returned from 
 the cruel excursions of war, had 
 
 143 
 
THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 reached her through the lame old 
 man who came every day to work in 
 the garden. Ernst was rich in social 
 and domestic news, and he had made 
 one or two comments on Hadleigh 
 with an allusion to "dead men's 
 shoes '' which Amanda regarded as 
 revolting, and said so. 
 
 When, after Hadleigh began com- 
 ing regularly, Amanda had occasion- 
 ally noticed a strange quiet in Edith, 
 she had taken the liberty of conclud- 
 ing that that first affair must have 
 been very serious indeed. Yet this 
 quiet was not to be compared with 
 the mood that had appeared within 
 the past twenty-four hours — since 
 the soldier came home. 
 
 If anything was wrong the sol- 
 dier was to blame. This was plain 
 enough to Amanda. It came to her 
 
 H4 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Strongly this morning — came a -little 
 fiercely when she saw the pitifully 
 white look in Edith's face at the li- 
 brary window where her mistress was 
 mechanically fixing the flowers. 
 
 " Miss Edith/' said Amanda, with 
 a defiant tenderness, " you ought to 
 do something for them." 
 
 "For what, Amanda?" 
 
 *' Them mopes." 
 
 " Mopes ? " 
 
 " O, I can see you got 'em. Miss 
 Edith. I 've had 'em myself," she 
 added, as if the experience had given 
 her the right to speak with authority. 
 
 "What did you do for them, 
 Amanda ? " 
 
 " Why — I always went to see 
 him — but of course you could n't do 
 that," Amanda continued, conscious 
 of a deceit. 
 
 lo 145 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 A softness came momentarily into 
 the fixed lines of Edith's lips. 
 
 " And suppose that you went to 
 see him, Amanda, and that it did n't 
 cure them?" 
 
 Amanda frowned. "Then I 'd 
 make him come and see me, and I 'd 
 keep it up. There ain't nothing 
 else to do. Miss Edith. ^^ Men is 
 strange animals, anyway/ Joe Grib- 
 sey 's just been here." 
 
 '' Has he, Amanda ? " Edith had 
 turned away from the window, and 
 paused again. As if to conceal the 
 origin of this emotion of interest, she 
 added, '' Why did n't you call me } 
 Then I might have believed that 
 there is such a person." 
 
 " Well, he was here," Amanda 
 proceeded, " and he says the soldier 's 
 
 actin' very queer, walkin* up and 
 
 146 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 down, starin' at your picture, throwin' 
 Eyetalians downstairs, and not eatin* 
 a bite of food/' 
 
 "You will have to prescribe for 
 him too, Amanda/' 
 
 ** O, I daresay he needs a dressin' 
 
 down,'* returned Amanda. " When 
 
 a man gets the mopes you have to be 
 
 rough with him. Gentleness don't 
 >> 
 
 Whether she felt that it was time 
 to withdraw, or feared to trust the 
 rising tide of her resentment against 
 the soldier, Amanda went away, leav- 
 ing Edith standing by the window, 
 standing in that restless stillness which 
 dulls the edge of courage and wears 
 the patience of the heart. 
 
 Perhaps Edith's dominant feeling 
 was one of bitter disappointment. 
 
 Without the master key to the situ- 
 
 14.7 
 
THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ation — without knowledge of the 
 grotesque chance by which the situ- 
 ation had been created — Barton's 
 conduct could not seem otherwise 
 than inexpHcable. He appeared to 
 be yielding to impulses that might 
 well have been adjudged too small 
 to master him. The tragic story of 
 his death had been a blinding blow. 
 In that hour how trite and inade- 
 quate had been every conventionality 
 of consolation ! How she had hated 
 every note of commiseration ! How 
 she had rebelled — and bent, under 
 the blow ! Then she had been forced 
 to face the different distress of the 
 Hadleigh mistake — the mistake of 
 
 believing that her high friendship for 
 him was sufficient. It had taken 
 what seemed like the last of her 
 
 courage to frame the clumsy dismissal 
 
 148 
 
THE GIRL <&• THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 of his claims as a lover. But was not 
 this the worst of all — to find Barton 
 so poor in charity for her, ready to 
 make so mean an estimate of her 
 faith, ready to condemn and to stab 
 without a hearing ? It was so little, 
 so disenchanting. It was the old 
 story. The dead in whom we believe 
 are less a sorrow than the living who 
 have hurt our faith. 
 
 '' My dear ! '' 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts revealed himself in 
 a condition of restrained excitement. 
 He was one of those in whom the 
 counterfeit of calm is always gro- 
 tesquely transparent. At the present 
 moment Mr. Tibbetts was putting on 
 his hat and taking it off again (for 
 whatever reason, it was his silk hat), 
 looking at his watch and putting the 
 
 thing back into his pocket, slowly, 
 
 149 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 as if he were debatively relinquishing 
 the minutes. 
 
 Edith, without speaking, crossed 
 the room with a dull steadiness and 
 straightened her uncle's tie. 
 
 " My dear,'* repeated Mr. Tibbetts, 
 " I shall be back in a little while." 
 He was looking over her shoulder. 
 " I have some business in the city." 
 
 Edith nodded and recrossed the 
 room. Her uncle paused at the door. 
 
 " I want to see you when I get 
 back,'' he continued, " about — about 
 a little matter. In fact, about some- 
 thing of much importance." 
 
 The girl turned with a languid 
 curiosity. 
 
 "You will be here, Edith?" 
 
 " Yes, uncle." 
 
 "Eh — I 'm afraid, my dear, that 
 
 you are upset a little by this news — 
 
 150 
 
'Her uncle paused 
 at the door." 
 
THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 extraordinary news, is it not? — that 
 Barton is back." 
 
 " I shall get over it, uncle," she 
 said quietly. 
 
 " It is very extraordinary," repeated 
 Mr. Tibbetts. 
 
 Then Edith heard his feet stammer 
 in the hall. 
 
 151 
 

 ■■-• ^%' 
 
 >'' 
 
 i:-^^];; 
 
 
 (Qw 
 
 PartJ&vcn^ 
 
 
 =*-^' 
 
 'OE came into the 
 studio diffidently. Joe 
 had no habitual dif- 
 fidence. He was not 
 without his own sort 
 of sensibility, but his 
 imagination never an- 
 ticipated disaster. With regard to 
 the case of Barton, he felt that grave 
 crises impended. Distressing things 
 already had happened, and doubtless 
 there was further trouble ahead. 
 " You better eat something, after 
 
 all, Mr. Barton," he ventured to say. 
 
 152 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** The band ain't playin* now, and 
 you can't go with so Httle.'* 
 
 Barton was lying on a couch in a 
 corner of his studio, trying to pull 
 himself together. The effort con- 
 tinued to call up monumental diffi- 
 culties. He felt as if the bottom 
 had dropped out of the world, and 
 as if he had an exceedingly insecure 
 grip on the sides thereof. 
 
 For an hour after Edith's visit he 
 had been too dazed and crushed to 
 think. Wounded to the quick, ex- 
 asperated with fate, disappointed with 
 himself, mystified by a sense of some- 
 thing fantastically perverse and unreal 
 in the disaster which had overwhelmed 
 him, he found himself weighted by 
 an unconquerable stupor. 
 
 He had called himself many and 
 y.arious hard names. He also had 
 
 '53 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 made some uncomplimentary remarks 
 to certain intruders. At one moment 
 he called this the fever. At another 
 he called it his natural depravity. 
 Neither conclusion gave him any 
 comfort. 
 
 There was no gratification in abus- 
 ing Gribsey, for Joe took it all with 
 real grief. 
 
 ** Let me alone, Joe/' returned 
 Barton to Gribsey's suggestion about 
 food. **I'll be all rio-ht after a 
 while." 
 
 " Maybe," remarked Joe. *' But 
 I say, when in doubt, eat." 
 
 ** By and by, Joe." 
 
 Gribsey contemplated the soldier 
 with a serious eve, as if to penetrate 
 the pathologv of the situation. 
 
 ** That lady in there that paints 
 cats," pursued Joe, ** says that what 
 
 154 
 
THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 you need is something to build up 
 your strength. She says you 're all 
 run down.** 
 
 "What does she suggest?'* de- 
 manded Barton, in a tone that gave 
 Gribsey a fresh anxiety. 
 
 Joe faltered backward a step. 
 " Baked p*taters, she says.** 
 
 " I hate potatoes,*' growled Barton, 
 " especially baked potatoes, and above 
 all, baked potatoes suggested by a lady 
 who paints cats.** 
 
 "O," ejaculated Joe. "I don't 
 think you're so much run down as 
 you are upset. Something or other," 
 put forward the janitor with a mean- 
 ing emphasis, " has just knocked you 
 over." 
 
 " I guess you 're right, Joe. And 
 I don't think you can do anything 
 for me. Don't worry. Go and see 
 
 155 
 
THE C, IRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 quite unreadable to the janitor : ** If 
 you ever happen to die, stay dead.'' 
 
 Finding it impossible, by any un- 
 aided effort of mind, to interpret 
 practically the larger meanings of 
 this counsel, Gribsey silently went 
 away. 
 
 In a few moments he came back. 
 
 ** A young lady from the Express 
 is looking for you, Mr. Barton." 
 
 ** Tell her I 'm dead," said Barton, 
 from behind the curtain of the dress- 
 ing-room. 
 
 Joe debated between a grin and a 
 frown. 
 
 ** She knows you got back." 
 
 "Tell her I was found dead — 
 again — this morning." 
 
 Joe backed to the door. ** O, well, 
 she 'II want to see you, anyhow. She 's 
 got a camera." 
 
 »57 
 
THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Then tell her they are dressing 
 the corpse and to come back in an 
 hour/' 
 
 Nevertheless, the young lady from 
 the Express came back in fifteen 
 minutes, and Barton, wearing a garb 
 to which the exigencies of war long 
 had made him a stranger, let her in. 
 
 He recognized her as little Miss 
 Price, who was not very clever, but 
 who was always likably frank and 
 energetic. 
 
 "Mr. Barton!'* she cried, with 
 genuine feeling. " I 'm so glad to 
 see you ! " 
 
 " Sorry to spoil your story," said 
 Barton, " about the hero business 
 and death among the Filipinos." 
 
 "O, but you were a hero — and 
 you are a hero more than ever now," 
 
 insisted Miss Price. " How delighted 
 
 158 
 
T II K (i I R L &■ '] H E GUARDSMAN 
 
 all your family antl friends must be ! 
 Won't you tell me all about it? 
 Have you got time to tell me some- 
 thing for to-day's Express?*' 
 
 ** I 'm afraid I have n't," replied 
 Barton. ** You see I'm feeling pretty 
 seedy yet. After the fever, you 
 know " — 
 
 ** But you must tell me how you 
 were captured — O, we had that ! I 
 mean what they did with you and 
 how you got away. Were the 
 savages very cruel ? How on earth 
 did they come to report you killed ? 
 — I mean the officials. We had a 
 dreadful half-tone of you — we have 
 been working half-tones for a year 
 now. They are getting up a better 
 one for this afternoon. We only 
 heard al^jout it this morning some- 
 how. Wasn't it telegraphed at all?" 
 
 »59 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " There was a mix-up/' said Bar- 
 ton. " The despatches killed the 
 wrong man." 
 
 " I thought," ventured Miss Price, 
 " that I might find you in your 
 khaki, and that maybe I could get 
 a little special portrait of you here." 
 
 " You must let me off to-day," 
 returned Barton. " I 've just shed 
 my troop clothes. I 'm sick of 
 them ! " 
 
 " But you will let us have your 
 belt and carbine, or something for 
 the office window." 
 
 *' If you like — if you will let that 
 go instead of the story. I have n't 
 the carbine, but I have my cartridge 
 belt and revolver. The United States 
 sold those to me." 
 
 ''Sold them to you!" cried Miss 
 
 Price, resentfully. "The idea!" 
 
 160 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Barton laid the trophies before her, 
 and she examined them with great 
 reverence. 
 
 ** You do?it look well," she said, 
 a few moments later. 
 
 ** Probably not," returned Barton. 
 
 **You will let me put down a 
 few dates, won't you.?*" Miss Price 
 pleaded. 
 
 Barton quickly sketched the chron- 
 ology of his military life — that 
 was short work, after all. Two 
 months or six months are words 
 quickly said. The things they stand 
 for in bodily suffering, in deferred 
 hopes, in tortured patience, in bruised 
 spirit, are another matter. 
 
 Barton watched her languidly as she 
 
 wrote in the little book, and when 
 
 at last she had thanked him, and had 
 
 gone, the belt, half filled with Krag 
 II i6i 
 
r H !•: (;iRL &■ iuk (.uarosmam 
 
 CiirtridgCvS, and the revolver under her 
 arm, he threw himself into the chair 
 before his writing-desk determined to 
 write one or two letters. 
 
 lie was in the middle of the lirst 
 letter, when there was another knock, 
 and I ladleigh came in. 
 
 ** This is very reckless, I ladleigh," 
 he said, grasping his friend's hand — 
 the wounded arm hung in the sling. 
 ** You should he in hed, I sus[)ect." 
 
 " Nonsense, barton. It is nothing 
 — though I don't take that view of 
 it with regard to that young devil 
 who popped at me. They 've got 
 him — that's the end of that.'* 
 
 ** Not for him," suggested Marton. 
 
 **Sit down, lladleigh. I hope you 
 
 have n't forgotten how to he at home 
 
 here. Have a pipe — I'll fill it for 
 
 you." 
 
 162 
 
r II f: (; I k l &- v w v. c u a R ds m a n 
 
 ** Nc-vcr iniiui (lie [)i[)c," said I I;ul- 
 Icigh. ** I have n't rdorincd or any- 
 tliJFiL; like that. Hut I 'm not up to 
 a pipe* this morning." 
 
 ** I low s the arm ?" 
 
 ** (iood ciioui^h. li I hadn't tuni- 
 hlcil hkc a fool, :nuI hied there, it 
 would n't he worth mentioning. 
 And if I had n't got youi' compress 
 when I did I prohahly sliould have 
 liad the ([ueer hick to knock under 
 altogether." 
 
 ** Looks as i( Providence had n't 
 finished putting us through stunts," 
 sail! Harton, striding into the lai 
 corner and out ol it again. 
 
 iladleigh looked ahout him with 
 something in his eyes that contra- 
 dicted his voice. ** I was in heic 
 one day — ahout a month i»g<>, ' lie 
 said. 
 
 i^3 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " So Joe was saying," nodded 
 Barton. 
 
 " And it gave me a lump in the 
 throat, Ed, to look around the place 
 and to think that you never would 
 come back. I left orders once more 
 that your directions should be re- 
 spected, and that the place should 
 be untouched until Fanter came back 
 from Munich. We wrote your 
 obituary, old man." 
 
 " And said things a live man never 
 can live up to." 
 
 " I did n't see anything that was 
 put on too heavy." 
 
 " Probably," said Barton, with a 
 smile, '*that picture in the Express 
 — Joe had it to show me — helped 
 even up things. I don't suppose you 
 cou/d speak too well of a man with 
 
 that portrait in sight." 
 
 164 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** All outrage,'* muttered Hadleigh. 
 
 " I am to be done again to-day," 
 Barton added. ** Writ up, and drawn 
 — limb from limb — and my toys 
 hung in the window. We are 
 whooping things, Hadleigh, for you 
 will be in, too, with the would-be 
 assassin. Think of it. I am to play 
 two roles — the returned hero and 
 the rescuer. Could anything be 
 more engaging — more completely 
 satisfying ? " 
 
 ** I see you are not well yet, 
 Barton." 
 
 '* I 'm well enough." 
 
 ** If they would only let well 
 enough alone. Here I am bother- 
 ing you like the rest." 
 
 Barton shook his head protestingly. 
 
 ** I guess you know how welcome 
 
 you are, Hadleigh." 
 
 165 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 "When I was here that day/' 
 Hadleigh then went on, ** I had the 
 curiosity to Uft the curtain from the 
 picture here. I had seen it before, 
 you remember. It did n't mean the 
 same thing then. The situation had 
 changed — very much." 
 
 Barton was silent, though he 
 moved his head protestingly. 
 
 " Barton," continued Hadleigh, 
 looking straight before him into the 
 corner, *' there is something I have 
 come to speak to you about. Of 
 course we could n't get at it yester- 
 day very well. I was your friend, 
 and I am your friend, and I have 
 the rights of a friend. So I am here 
 now." 
 
 Barton twisted in his chair. 
 
 ** When you went away to Manila," 
 said Hadleigh, still speaking into the 
 
 i66 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 corner, ** you were engaged to be 
 married to Edith Lynwood." 
 
 Barton got up, wrenching the 
 chair with his hand. ** Hadleigh," 
 he returned firmly, " you were my 
 friend, and you are my friend, and 
 you will please change the subject." 
 
 *' No, Barton, you must not ask 
 that. There is something I have 
 come to say. I have the right to 
 say it. I shall say it." 
 
 " Even at my expense, Hadleigh .? 
 Even if I insist that I have the right 
 to ask you not to say it ? " 
 
 Hadleigh faced about in his chair. 
 ** Look here. Barton, some things 
 won't wait for settlement. And 
 there are other rights than yours 
 and mine." 
 
 " As for that, Hadleigh, those 
 
 other rights will not be imperilled 
 
 167 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 by your silence at this time. I 
 know all that you would say to 
 me. Believe me, those things need 
 not be said. The occasion is past.'' 
 
 Barton had seated himself on the 
 edge of the couch. 
 
 '' Past ? '' Hadleigh looked up. 
 ** Past .? How can the occasion be 
 past?" 
 
 " Nevertheless/' retorted Barton, 
 sternly, " it is past." 
 
 " Suppose I thought differently. 
 Barton." Hadleigh arose and lifted 
 his hand. " I see that you are not 
 well to-day. Barton. God knows, 
 you have had a tough time of it. 
 I understand " — 
 
 " You would do wrong to think 
 differently," broke in the other, his 
 face white. " You should take my 
 word — without forcing me to say 
 
 i68 
 
'I 
 
 ^ .t 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 more. I have spoken very plainly. 
 I have said that — that there is 
 nothing to be said." 
 
 For several moments there was 
 silence between them. Barton was 
 breathing heavily. Hadleigh stood 
 near the veiled portrait, his eyes set 
 upon the tortured face of his friend. 
 Then he spoke again. 
 
 " Barton, I went to see her this 
 morning. It was very early. I 
 had n't been able to sleep — not for 
 the arm, but for thinking of this 
 thing. She was not at home. The 
 girl did n't know where she had 
 gone, but I got it into my head 
 somehow that she had come here." 
 
 ** She did come here." 
 
 ** And if she came here," pro- 
 ceeded Hadleigh, resolutely, ** her 
 
 coming was not without a meaning 
 
 169 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 — a meaning which I have the right 
 
 to read. Though I were not your 
 friend, Barton, I still should not 
 wish to claim the hand of a girl 
 who loved another. She loves you. 
 Barton " — 
 
 " Hadleigh, listen to me." Bar- 
 ton arose, his arms crossed. " You 
 have claimed the rights of a friend. 
 You have urged other rights than 
 your own. Consider, then, whether 
 you are acting the part of reason and 
 justice and friendship in refusing to 
 listen to me when I, who confess to 
 having seen her, tell you that you have 
 no occasion to place this matter be- 
 fore me, that — that you are mis- 
 taken, mistaken^ understand me, in 
 questioning her love for you." 
 
 Hadleigh stirred as if to speak, but 
 
 the other checked him. 
 
 170 
 
THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** I have loved her, Hadleigh, and 
 vSurely that gives me the right to 
 demand of you an unquestioning 
 fulhlment of all — all that lies in 
 your pledge to her." Barton made 
 an authoritative gesture. *' Can't you 
 see the cruelty of discussing this with 
 me r 
 
 ** I can see but one thing," re- 
 turned Hadleigh evenly, with some- 
 thing both of pity and of defiance in 
 his tone, ** and that is that I have 
 come between you. If I am privi- 
 leged to love her, Barton, I am 
 privileged to resent the thought of a 
 stigma, of any accidental advantage. 
 I am not blind. I know what has 
 gone before. I know that you are not 
 a man to love lightly. I know that 
 you are not a man whom any woman 
 would love lightly. I know what 
 
 i7« 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 a blunder in such a matter must 
 mean for everybody, not only for 
 the man and the woman, but for 
 
 — for the other man. You choose 
 to ask the impossible — something 
 that you would n't ask of an enemy 
 
 — that he should pass over, put aside, 
 ignore what can't be ignored '* — 
 
 " Look here, Hadleigh/' Barton 
 came over and put his hands on the 
 other's shoulders. " I understand 
 you. I thank you. I believe you 
 are my friend. You are worthy of 
 more than friendship. But look at 
 me. Am I fit to be reasoned with ? 
 Am I fit to give or to take ? Just 
 drop me to-day. You are doing 
 yourself an injustice — you are doing 
 us all an injustice. What has hap- 
 pened, has happened. Each of us 
 
 has his duty. In God's name let us 
 
 172 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 find it if we can. But leave it to 
 me to say that now is not the time. 
 Believe me when I tell you : she has 
 spoken." 
 
 ** She has spoken ? " repeated 
 Hadleigh. 
 
 *' Yes," affirmed Barton. 
 
 Hadleigh bowed his head, then 
 held out his hand. 
 
 When presently he turned to go 
 he found Mr. Tibbetts standing 
 uneasily on the threshold. 
 
 ^73 
 
R. TIBBETTS ex- 
 perienced a mo- 
 ment of awkward 
 suspense on en- 
 countering Barton. 
 Perhaps he had 
 expected to re- 
 hearse some things 
 a little further before formally knock- 
 ing at the door. There had been 
 time for rehearsal, too, but no one 
 possibly can tell just what he wishes 
 or requires to say until he faces the 
 menace of a door. 
 
 174 
 
THE GIRL & THE CiUARDSMAN 
 
 On the hallway side of Barton's 
 door hung a slate and a tethered 
 pencil. When you knocked and 
 got no answer you were at liberty to 
 leave your written card on the slate ; 
 and, it you suspected his unanswering 
 presence, you might add, in a bold, 
 indignant hand that he was an un- 
 grateful, unsociable, deceiving scoun- 
 drel or other mild reproach for his 
 silence, and go away. 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts stood looking at the 
 slate tor fully two minutes, and 
 might have endured three before 
 detiantly knocking, had not Hadleigh 
 opened the door to go out. 
 
 " Good-morning," said Barton, in 
 a voice that did not increase Mr. 
 Tibbetts's personal comfort. ** Have 
 a chair." 
 
 ** Good-morning, Barton," returned 
 ^7S 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the visitor, with a furtive glance at 
 the artist as he said a last w^ord to 
 Hadleigh in the hall. 
 
 " Fine morning/' resumed Barton, 
 as he turned back. His tone was 
 sufficient to lower the temperature. 
 
 "Yes," admitted Mr. Tibbetts 
 taking tentative possession of the 
 extreme edge of one of Barton's 
 dwarfed black chairs, " though a little 
 cool, I think, for this time of year." 
 
 " Is it ? I had n't noticed," re- 
 marked Barton, striking a match 
 sullenly. " I 'm mixed on all weather 
 propositions — been in so many 
 longitudes and latitudes — and lost 
 the track of seasons so long that I 
 can't measure up the weather any 
 more." 
 
 " Yes," ventured the visitor. 
 
 ** That 's natural too — quite natural. 
 
 176 
 
THE GIRL 5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 I — I hope you are feeling very well. 
 Barton." 
 
 ** I can't say/' replied the younger 
 man, ** that I am in the pink of con- 
 dition. I have felt better, though I 
 am doing fairly. Possibly I owe 
 you an apology, Mr. Tibbetts, for 
 my continued health." 
 
 ** Don't be hard on me, Barton. 
 I have had a bad night. This thing 
 took, a turn I did not expect, and I 
 did not think the consequences could 
 be so — so serious. I would make 
 amends if I could. Please God, I 
 shall make amends. It is n't too 
 late — at least I hope it is n't too 
 late." 
 
 Barton shifted his feet and stared 
 
 into the bowl of his pipe. ** I don't 
 
 see what amends you can make, Mr. 
 
 Tibbetts. I don't understand. Your 
 II 177 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 anxiety to keep me out of sight 
 until twelve o'clock to-day was un- 
 necessary after all/' 
 
 " Ah, Barton ! you never will 
 understand how I intended that. 
 You make it appear very brutal. It 
 was just an impulse, you know. It 
 did n't seem at the first as if it could 
 make any great difference — how 
 could I know that it would make 
 any difference ? And you did n't 
 listen to me — no, I'm not saying 
 a word of blame." 
 
 " You are right," admitted Barton, 
 " I did n't listen to you." 
 
 " Listen to me now, Barton. I so 
 despised myself for that selfish weak- 
 ness " — 
 
 " Don't speak of it, Mr. Tibbetts." 
 
 ** I will speak of it. Barton. I 
 
 must tell you that I sent a message 
 
 178 
 
THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 this niorning declining the election. 
 I could n't i'jring myself " — 
 
 ** I 'ni sorrv," declared Barton. 
 ** YoLi can't mend anything by giving 
 Lip a great business opportunity. You 
 should think of — of Edith." 
 
 ** Yes, I know, Barton ; it is like you 
 to put it that way. iiut she never 
 would forgive me if she knew " — 
 
 ** Nonsense," Barton interposed, 
 ** why should she know ? What 
 difference does it make — now ? It 
 looks to me, Mr. Tibbetts, as if you 
 were going to a lot of useless trouble 
 to make yourself miserable." 
 
 The old man was twisting his hat 
 between his hands. ** Nevertheless," 
 he proceeded, with a narrow scru- 
 tiny of the artist, ** I have made my 
 decision. Now I have come to ask 
 you a favor." 
 
 / »79 
 
THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Well/' said Barton, getting up, 
 not without a sign of impatience, 
 " if it is something short of suicide I 
 believe I will grant it this time, just 
 to change my luck/' 
 
 " I want you. Barton," Mr. Tib- 
 betts continued, hewing to the mark, 
 " I want you to help me straighten 
 out this — this " — 
 
 ** Straightening out, Mr. Tibbetts, 
 does n't seem to be exactly in my 
 line just now. I think perhaps you 
 are laboring under an error " — 
 
 " It is you. Barton, who are labor- 
 ing under an error. My boy, you 
 are on the wrong track." This was 
 accompanied by a constrained effort 
 to smile. " The wrong track, my 
 boy." 
 
 " I 'm not on any track," retorted 
 Barton. " I 'm off the track, down 
 
 i8o 
 
THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 the embankment, head on, tele- 
 scoped, deep in the mud." 
 
 " Wait a moment. Barton, wait a 
 moment. I say you are wrong. \'ou 
 have made a mistake. She has made 
 a mistake. It 's a ridiculous mess of 
 a mistake all the way through. I 
 can prove it. I shall prove it. You 
 shall let me prove it." 
 
 ** Prove it ? Prove what ? " 
 
 ** Barton, you must come with 
 me — 
 
 " Not to the " — 
 
 " Yes, to the house. — Hold on ! 
 You shall come with me and let me 
 prove " — 
 
 Both men were standing, the older 
 with a flushed face and an importun- 
 ing hand extended ; the younger 
 showing a kind of wearied scorn with 
 something of a fierce humor. 
 
 i8i 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 "Really, Mr. Tibbetts," inter- 
 rupted Barton, " I find it hard to fol- 
 low you. You are so unexpected. 
 We each have our own notion of a 
 joke. I somehow lost your point yes- 
 terday. To-day you are even more 
 perplexing. Why not let the matter 
 drop ? I 'm not holding any grudge 
 against you. I have annoyed you by 
 being alive when I should have stayed 
 dead. If I had it all to do again I 
 should try to arrange it differently. 
 But that can't be helped now. You 
 have agreed not to hold any grudge 
 against me. I ask nothing of you. 
 Why not let the case rest there ? " 
 
 The old man drew his lips to- 
 gether and glared at Barton, with a 
 moist fury. 
 
 " Damn it. Barton ! Don't you 
 
 understand ! I tell you this whole 
 
 182 
 
THF GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 thing's a mistake. Edith was under 
 a misapprehension — and you were 
 all wrong — and — but you won't 
 believe me. I can do better. I 
 can pr(we it. But I must ask you 
 to come with me. Is that unreason- 
 able ? Is proof so unimportant to 
 you ? Are you so tremendously 
 happy that'' — 
 
 " O, you could n't fancy how soli- 
 citous every one is for my comfort 
 and happiness," flung Barton, strik- 
 ing another match. " It has touched 
 me deeply." 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts stood hopelessly si- 
 lent for a moment, still twisting his 
 hat. 
 
 ** Barton, do you mean to say " — 
 
 The artist interrupted him. ** Mr. 
 Tibbetts, if you have any regret for 
 anything that you have done — 
 
 183 
 
THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 though I assure you I can't see how 
 you are to blame for — anything that 
 has happened — why, ask me some 
 other sort of favor." 
 
 " You refuse to go. Barton ? " 
 
 The younger man shrugged his 
 shoulders. " You must not ask me 
 to go, Mr. Tibbetts. I never could 
 straighten out anything for you. 
 I 'm not feeling that way just now. 
 I 'd only make everything worse for 
 you.'' 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts walked to the door 
 with a quick step, his hands behind 
 him. He paused for a few seconds 
 under the Turkish blade. Then he 
 caught at the door and went out 
 quickly. 
 
 Once in the street he proceeded 
 to take a turn around the square. 
 
 He must think of some other way 
 
 184 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ot reaching Barton. The one sure 
 way to make matters right was to 
 bring them together — Edith and 
 Barton — somehow. But what was 
 to be done with a fellow so incor- 
 rigible as Barton ? The very man 
 who most needed a convincing dem- 
 onstration of his error was the man 
 who would not make the conditions 
 possible. 
 
 During Mr. Tibbetts's circuit of the 
 vsquare, and while Barton stood at the 
 door pondering grimly upon the gro- 
 tesque procession of his day's visitors, 
 and how, indeed, he might hope to 
 hnd the peace that seemed to have 
 gone from him beyond recall, there 
 was another tap on the door. He 
 nervously started, frowned at his 
 weakness and stood rebelliously 
 
 motionless, determined in the first 
 
 iSs 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 moment to refer this new intruder 
 to the slate. 
 
 The tap was repeated shortly with 
 a sharp interrogatory emphasis that 
 seized his attention and held it. 
 Something in the sound made him 
 think it had been produced by a 
 woman. 
 
 However this feeling may have 
 influenced him, he suddenly growled, 
 " Come in ! '* 
 
 It was Amanda Maud, wearing the 
 same light dress she had worn the 
 day before, and a curiously casual, 
 boyish soft hat, in which there was an 
 adjustment purely Amanda's own. 
 
 Amanda did not seem startled to 
 find Barton at the brink of the room, 
 his hand against the wall, looking 
 quietly at her as she came out of 
 the passage. 
 
 1 86 
 
// u'Js /linaihlj 
 Maiidy 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** Ci()t)d-inc)rning/' said Amanda. 
 
 ** (jood-morning,*' returned Bar- 
 ton, without moving. ** The artist 
 IS in. 
 
 ** So I see," ventured Amanda. 
 " Don't you think you could ask 
 me in for just a minute?" 
 
 " You've got to come in," declared 
 Barton. ** I Ve been wishing you 'd 
 come. It has been so dull here 
 to-day." 
 
 Amanda measured him with her 
 undismayed eyes. He was pretty 
 hard to understand. 
 
 ** I just dropped in," she said, *' to 
 say that" — 
 
 " Don't apologize," insisted Bar- 
 ton. '' It 's all right." 
 
 ** Is it ? " She watched him as he 
 searched through the pigeon-holes 
 
 of the old desk for something which 
 
 187 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 it had occurred to him to look for. 
 " Well, I wanted to say, if you '11 
 excuse me, that you 're an awful fool." 
 
 Barton turned about slowly. 
 
 " Now, do you know," he said, 
 '* I am hardly prepared to contradict 
 you." 
 
 " You know what I mean," went 
 on Amanda, " any man might be 
 taken that way." 
 
 '* In that case," said Barton, turn- 
 ing again to the pigeon-holes, " I 
 need n't take the thing as so per- 
 sonal, I needn't feel so badlv." 
 
 "I don't want to make nobody 
 feel bad," said Amanda, " and I 
 know it ain't none of my business, 
 but I just took it into my head " — 
 
 " To come and tell me I was a 
 fool," returned Barton. " It is very 
 pleasant and thoughtful of you." 
 
 i88 
 
THK GIKL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** C), wait ! " commanded the girl, 
 ** I did come to vsay that, hecause you 
 are. 1 guess you know you are. 
 Vou don't suppose I 'd ever believe 
 she was wrong, do you ? " 
 
 The girl walked to the middle of 
 the rioor. Barton faced her, a ming- 
 ling of annoyance and amusement in 
 his eyes. It came to him to wonder 
 at the moment whether everything 
 that was happening actually had a 
 fantastic flavor, or whether his ab- 
 n(^rmal condition was twisting the 
 ordinary and reasonable into these 
 peculiar shapes. 
 
 ** Go on," he said. " You Ve 
 come to say something. Say it. 
 I 'm listening, and I 'm very much 
 interested." 
 
 ** I know how you men are," pur- 
 sued Amanda, with some sign of 
 
 189 
 
THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 debate as to her procedure. ** You 
 get a thing into your head and 
 nobody can get it out. You can't 
 get it out yourselves. It just gets 
 wedged in.'' 
 
 "Well?" queried Barton. "Is 
 this what you came to tell me?" 
 
 "Yep," said Amanda, shortly, — 
 " and to hand you this." 
 
 Barton stared at the locket which 
 she placed in his palm. It was the 
 locket. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he de- 
 manded. " Did n't you " — then he 
 checked himself. She must have 
 delivered it, for Edith had held it. 
 
 " It seems to me," remarked 
 
 Amanda by a master stroke of 
 
 evasion, "that if I was a man, 
 
 and I had a locket handed to me 
 
 like this, and I was told to come, I 
 
 190 
 
THK GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 would know by that that I was 
 to come." 
 
 ** Do you mean " — began Barton. 
 
 But Amanda could trust herself no 
 further. She had reached the end 
 of her device, and she tied without 
 another syllable, leaving Barton to 
 stare at the little gleaming symbol 
 in his hand. 
 
 The haste of Amanda's departure 
 might well have been attended with 
 serious consequences, for in the dim 
 light of the landing she ran full 
 against Mr. Tibbetts. It was only 
 by the quick strength of her own 
 plump right hand that a real catas- 
 trophe was averted. 
 
 " Amanda ! " was all that the old 
 man had breath to say as he peered 
 after her into the depths of the stair- 
 way. 
 
 191 
 
THE GIRL (Sr- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Barton heard the scuffle through 
 his open door, though in the sudden 
 whirl of a new and startHng thought 
 it may scarcely be said to have defi- 
 nitely drawn his attention. 
 
 The locket and a summons ! This 
 was as absurdly grotesque as all the 
 rest. 
 
 When Mr. Tibbetts, panting from 
 the climb and the collision, and a 
 trifle dishevelled, strode to the execu- 
 tion of his last appeal, determined to 
 lay everything before Barton, he 
 found the artist incomprehensibly 
 paused with his back to the door. 
 
 " Barton" — began the old man. 
 
 The artist slipped something into 
 the pocket of his coat, strode across 
 the studio and reached for a hat that 
 hung upon a deer's antlers. The hat 
 
 was covered with dust, and Barton 
 
 192 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Struck it across the edge of the couch, 
 then brushed it absently with his 
 sleeve. 
 
 ** Mr. Tibbetts,'* he said when he 
 had faced about, ** I should like to 
 go out home with you, if you don't 
 mind." 
 
 «3 '93 
 
Pail? 
 
 ziie 
 
 T was Amanda Maud's con- 
 viction that she had left 
 the house unobserved on 
 this sensational excursion. 
 But the supposition was 
 inaccurate. Edith saw her 
 steal across the garden and out of the 
 lane gate. She also saw the girl 
 return after an inexplicable hour ; 
 and presently Amanda took occasion 
 to be audibly and visibly present 
 about the house. Her transition to 
 
 194 
 
THE GIRL &- THE ("xUARDSMAN 
 
 the house dress was one of those 
 paradoxes of feminine celerity over 
 which even Edith might have mar- 
 velled had she been more alert to 
 impressions. 
 
 The fact is that Amanda's departure 
 had aroused neither her curiosity nor 
 her resentment — it was absence with- 
 out leave — for at the moment Edith 
 was incapable of holding a normal 
 attitude toward anything that passed 
 about her. Since the initial catas- 
 trophe of the day before, when, after 
 a period of wretched debate, she 
 had, as she believed, sent Hadleigh 
 away, perhaps in anger, a harsh un- 
 reality had begun to appear in every- 
 thing that happened. Barton's first 
 note regarding Hadleigh's injuries, 
 scrawled on the back of her own 
 paper, which lay on the hall table 
 
 '95 
 
THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 when she came in after a half-hour's 
 absence, produced an effect which 
 its writer could not have expected. 
 It was simply incredible. Indeed, 
 it evoked an hysterical laugh. It 
 was the note with the locket which 
 Amanda handed to her so soon after, 
 that completed the circuit of this 
 terrible new reality and left her dazed 
 and helpless. 
 
 She went to her writing table and 
 read again the lines he had sent to 
 her. 
 
 I no longer have the right to carry this 
 trinket. If, in sending it back, I am 
 tempted to say that in all my suffering it 
 has been a sign to me of something to 
 which it now seems that I was wrong in 
 holding fast, you must not take this for 
 reproach or bitterness. I should have 
 fallen without it. I must not forget 
 that. What you have done you have 
 
 196 
 
THE GIRL Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 believed to he right. I must not forget 
 that cither. 
 
 Edwin Barton. 
 
 This was what she had lived with 
 for the whole of a night, until the 
 deliberate dawn released her to the 
 action of another day. When she 
 had stolen away to the studio, it was 
 to verify by the contact of her senses 
 the incredible tragedy of this change. 
 
 After that everything had ended. 
 Nothing was what it had been. She 
 did not recognize herself. Amanda, 
 watching her stealthily, plainly was 
 caught up by the whimsical current 
 of the transformation. Uncle Amos 
 was a parody of himself. 
 
 The hall clock was striking noon 
 when PMith found herself pinning on 
 her hat. She was startled by her 
 own face in the mirror. When she 
 
 •97 
 
THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 reached the porch she knew that she 
 was going to see Hadleigh. Some- 
 how that had begun to seem like a 
 duty. She had humiHated herself to 
 Barton. She herself would follow 
 the sympathetic note she had sent to 
 Hadleigh. She would contradict, at 
 whatever cost, any suspicion Hadleigh 
 might have of her want of feeling ; 
 she would show him that if friend- 
 ship could fall into error, it could be 
 steadfast, that if it hurt in being true 
 to itself, it could bind up the result- 
 ing wound with an affectionate and 
 a patient hand. 
 
 After all, Hadleigh was not at 
 home. His mother, looking into 
 Edith's white face, said he had in- 
 sisted on going into the city, and 
 possibly had gone from there to the 
 
 works. They had regretted not 
 
 198 
 
''Nothing wjs -what 
 it bad becnr 
 
THE GIRL £r THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 being able to detain him. Would n't 
 Edith sit down a while ? 
 
 No, she had come to ask after his 
 wound. Evidently he was better. 
 But he should be careful. 
 
 As briefly as might be, Edith re- 
 ceived Mrs. Hadleigh's motherly 
 questioning, met the motherly eyes 
 that read the trouble behind her 
 own, and turned homeward again 
 her heart deadly heavy, her head 
 throbbing. 
 
 " She is n't quiet a minute ! " mur- 
 mured Amanda at the dining-room 
 window when she saw Edith at the 
 gate. " Somebody '11 just have to 
 put her to bed." 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts and Barton came out 
 on the trolley. 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts became more and 
 more chipper in a momentum of 
 
 •99 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 altruistic satisfaction. It seemed to 
 him that he looked over at the 
 chimneys of the works without a 
 twinge. He had made a great sac- 
 rifice, but he had made a splendid 
 atonement. 
 
 He poured out upon Barton a 
 flood of local gossip without observ- 
 ing that the artist yielded but indif- 
 ferent attention to the narrative. 
 From gossip he turned to reminis- 
 cence, and he was in the midst of a 
 joke — rather disjointedly put for- 
 ward — about the time they went 
 fishing over to Pine Lake, when they 
 came in sight of the house. 
 
 At this Mr. Tibbetts's genial ex- 
 citement visibly rose. 
 
 " Barton, you '11 be in time for 
 
 dinner ! — we still dine in the middle 
 
 of the day, you know.'* 
 
 200 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Barton was enigmatically silent. 
 
 ** O, I 've got a surprise for you, 
 my boy ! Going to do it my own 
 way. No wrangling, no argument, 
 no trying to force you to understand. 
 Just you wait." 
 
 ** I 've been sufficiently surprised," 
 was all that Barton would say to this. 
 He did not trust Tibbetts. He would 
 not — at least on that day — have ac- 
 cepted entry into the finest prospect 
 the old man might have promised 
 to him. But the locket . . . 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts had not planned the 
 details of his atoning interview. He 
 was too confident to feel the need for 
 any subtlety of approach. Undoubt- 
 edly it was, in the legal phrase, 
 simply a case of bringing the parties 
 together. 
 
 " Edith ! Where are you ? " he all 
 
 20 1 
 
THE GIRL ^ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 but shouted as soon as they were 
 within the house. 
 
 Amanda stood at the top of the 
 stair. *' Miss Edith's in the sitting- 
 room, Mr. Tibbetts." 
 
 Barton winced at Tibbetts's exuber- 
 ant precipitation. Yet this was a 
 contradictory emotion, for, now that 
 he was in the house, now that he 
 stood so near her again, he could 
 have brushed the old man aside and 
 sprung into her presence without 
 weighing anything. 
 
 As it was, he fell behind Tibbetts, 
 saw the old man part the curtains, 
 and heard him call his niece's name 
 again. 
 
 ** Yes, uncle." 
 
 The girl answered absently, expect- 
 ing nothing more exciting or momen- 
 tous than some fretful inquiry. 
 
 202 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 But Mr. Tihbetts went on in a 
 restfiiined excitement which could 
 not at once have appeared to the 
 girl. ** I^dith, I wish to say a word 
 to you about yesterday." 
 
 " I wish you would not speak of 
 it, uncle," was her wearily resent- 
 ful answer, and Barton longed for 
 the privilege of projecting some 
 large, heavy object at the old man's 
 head. 
 
 ** I must, Edith," continued Mr. 
 Tibbetts, crossing and recrossing the 
 room. ** A great injustice has been 
 done and I am to blame?" 
 
 " You, uncle ? " 
 
 Edith, her chin on her hand, was 
 staring out of the window. 
 
 The old man turned to make a 
 gesture which commanded Barton to 
 
 enter the room. His face wore a 
 
 203 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 gayety of excitement reflecting his 
 estimate of this procedure as a stroke 
 of genius. 
 
 " You told him, Edith," pursued 
 Mr. Tibbetts, coming close to her 
 and finally taking a seat near by, 
 " you told him that you could not 
 receive him again as your lover, that 
 you could not marry him, because " — 
 
 '* Because I did not love him, 
 uncle." 
 
 ** Yes, yes, and you went further." 
 
 *' I said that I really had loved but 
 one man " — 
 
 " Yes, Edith." 
 
 " And that I never could love any 
 but him." 
 
 ** Ah, yes, but he did n't hear you 
 say that, because he went away, which 
 was very foolish of him, very foolish, 
 
 and entirely to his own blame. No- 
 
 204 
 
THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 body told him to go. And, Edith, 
 — I want to have this very plain — 
 when you spoke of the one man — 
 the one man you really had loved 
 you know " — Mr. Tibbetts put his 
 hand gently upon her arm — " you 
 meant " — 
 
 ** I meant my soldier." 
 
 ** Barton, yes, yes. Then you were 
 talking to " — 
 
 Edith turned her drawn face toward 
 that ot her uncle. ** Why are you 
 rambling in this way, uncle? Did 
 you not see Marcus go?" 
 
 ** Then you were sending away 
 Hadleigh — Hadleigh, whom you 
 had expected to meet " — 
 
 ** I was telling him that I did not 
 love him, uncle — and to think that 
 he should go away in that mood and 
 be hurt ! " 
 
 205 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 Mr. Tibbetts felt rather than saw 
 Barton's movement. He sprang up. 
 
 " But suppose, my dear, suppose 
 that it was not Hadleigh who heard 
 you, suppose that an old scoundrel of 
 an uncle who did n't intend it, but 
 somehow did do it, let you think that 
 it was Hadleigh, and that it was " — 
 
 She had caught the look in his 
 eye, and drew herself tremblingly 
 out of the chair until she discovered 
 Barton, pale, stupefied, in the middle 
 of the floor. 
 
 " Edwin ! " 
 
 " My God ! " cried Barton, with 
 something like a sob as he caught 
 her. ** Then all of my fever dreams 
 are over ! " 
 
 He held her strongly as if in a 
 
 sudden fear that it was a trick, kissing 
 
 her lips, her eyes, her hair. 
 
 206 
 
THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 ** Ahem ! " came from Mr. Tibbetts. 
 
 F^or an instant Barton, imprisoning 
 Edith's head on his shoulder, looked 
 over at the old man. 
 
 ** Go on. Barton," urged Tibbetts 
 catching the look. '* Don't spare 
 my feelings. Say it — say what you 
 are thinking of me — I am a damned 
 scoundrel." 
 
 But somehow Barton only smiled 
 and kissed Edith again, after putting 
 her away at arm's length for a 
 moment, and drawing her close once 
 more in an ecstasy of possession. 
 
 ** You have spoken, uncle," said 
 Edith with the old twinkle in her 
 eyes that made Barton to under- 
 stand that she was a dream come 
 true. 
 
 ** Though I will say " — began 
 Uncle Amos at the door. 
 
 20 ■ 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Yes, I know," nodded Barton. 
 
 And Uncle Amos quietly went 
 out. 
 
 Almost at the same moment, 
 Amanda Maud, suspiciously unem- 
 barrassed, appeared at the other 
 door. 
 
 " O, dear ! " she cried, " that fool 
 of a Joe Gribsey 's gone and forgotten 
 this letter, and it was tremenjus im- 
 portant, Mr. Tibbetts said." 
 
 Barton held out his hand for the 
 letter Amanda had found on the back 
 porch, upon which the sitting-room 
 windows opened. It bore the address 
 of the Fordwell Company. 
 
 ^* When did he give it to Joe?" 
 asked Barton. 
 
 " This morning — about an hour 
 and a half ago, I guess. He told 
 
 him it was in a hurry and would n't 
 
 208 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 he no use unless it was delivered 
 before twelve o'clock." 
 
 ** I see," said Barton, tearing up 
 the unopened letter. *' It 's after 
 twelve o'clock now — and this is 
 better than Uncle Amos deserves." 
 
 ** Did I hear my name?" asked 
 Uncle Amos, returning. 
 
 "You did," admitted Barton. " I 
 was saying that it is better than you 
 deserve. There is your declination 
 of the Vice-Presidency in small 
 pieces on the floor. It is after 
 twelve o'clock, and you are elected. 
 So am I. Let us forget everything 
 that is disagreeable." 
 
 ** My dear boy," cried Uncle Amos, 
 coming forward with outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 " It 's all right," said Barton. " The 
 
 world's coming to its old senses." 
 14 209 
 
THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 " Shall we go in to dinner ? " asked 
 Edith. " Of course I can't eat " — 
 
 It was thus that Barton came to 
 dine in his old place, with Edith to 
 look at, as on that day before he 
 joined his troop. There was so 
 much to talk about that Amanda 
 Maud found occasion to remark to 
 herself that some folks did n't seem 
 to know what victuals were for. 
 Uncle Amos repeatedly sought to 
 reassure himself that everything was, 
 as Barton had said, *' all right." 
 
 " You can see how it happened. 
 Barton ! " he would say. 
 
 It was while they had the grapes 
 that Uncle Amos was observed sud- 
 denly to have become very quiet. 
 
 " What are you thinking about, 
 uncle?" demanded Edith. 
 
 " I was just thinking, my dear, 
 
 2IO 
 

THE GIRL &- THE GUARPSMAN 
 
 that your mother was married in 
 October." 
 
 Edith huighed a soft, happy laugh, 
 and Harton getting up quickly, came 
 around the table and kissed her three 
 times. 
 
 Hadleigh walked up the path with 
 something of the soldier tread, a res- 
 olute look in his face. 
 
 They saw him from the library win- 
 dow. Edith, rising quickly, placed 
 her hand on Barton's shoulder to in- 
 dicate that he should remain where 
 he was, and hurried to the door. 
 
 Presently — Barton could not have 
 measured the interval, for his thoughts 
 went wide as the minutes ran — 
 they came back together, Edith and 
 Hadleiirh. 
 
 Without a word the two men 
 
 2 I I 
 
THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 
 
 clasped hands. Then Hadleigh spoke. 
 " I have just been telling Edith," he 
 said, with a shadowed smile, " that the 
 Company wishes me to make a trip 
 to Oregon. Just as soon as this arm 
 is well I shall be going." 
 
 ** And I have been telling him," 
 murmured Edith, speaking to Barton, 
 her hand resting gently on Hadleigh' s 
 arm, '* that near or far he always will 
 be the noblest of friends." 
 
 212 
 
 H^SOl 85^j(| 
 

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