C)RCL 
 H SAND 
 
 OORDAN
 
 8ERTRA H 
 
 AGREE KS 
 
 149 PAC .'JE 
 
 LONO CACH. CALIF.
 
 A Circle in the Sand
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 By 
 
 Kate Jordan 
 
 [Mrs. F. M. Vermilye] 
 Author of The Kiss of Gold, The Other House, etc. 
 
 Poised for an instant in the master's hand, 
 Body and soul like to a compass stand 
 The body turning round the central soul, 
 He makes a little circle in the sand. 
 
 Le Gallienne's rendering of the Rubidydt. 
 
 Lamson, Wolffe and Company 
 Boston, New York and London 
 
 MDCCCXCVIII
 
 Copyright, 1898, 
 By Kate Jordan 
 
 Copyright, 1898, 
 By Lamson, Wolffe and Company 
 
 A II rights reserved
 
 To 
 F. M. V.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 Chapter I 
 
 THE office boy stood beside David 
 Temple's desk, a slip of paper 
 on which a name was written in his 
 hand. He knew better than to inter- 
 rupt the editor when his pen was racing 
 in that aggressive way, so he stood 
 rumpling the bit of pink paper with 
 grimy fingers while speculatively re- 
 garding a fly running unmeaning races 
 from a cloudy map of the United States 
 to the big ink bottle occupying the 
 centre of a very untidy desk. 
 
 The day was breathless and humid. 
 From the earliest hours the sun's rays 
 had swept the streets like destroying 
 glances from a malevolent eye. The
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 dusty, ink-spattered offices of the New 
 York " Citizen " were stifling. Beyond 
 the open windows could be seen sun- 
 baked roofs, spires, and chimneys 
 swathed in a hot mist. Every man in 
 the editorial rooms was in his shirt- 
 sleeves. Some had discarded moist 
 collars. All were working hard. 
 
 David Temple laid down his pen and 
 glanced over the hastily written page, 
 his expression determined. 
 
 " That'll make them hum," he said, 
 and without looking up he touched the 
 bell, at the same instant becoming 
 aware of the boy beside him. 
 
 " Here you are. Take this down, 
 Pete, just as fast as you can. Eh? 
 Some one to see me ? All right. Tell 
 him to wait. Come back at once." 
 
 He picked up the paper, the kind in 
 use in the office, bearing the directions: 
 
 " Name . State business." " Anne 
 
 Garrick" was written in lead pencil 
 upon it. The latter request was un- 
 heeded. 
 
 David laid it down, lit a cigar, and
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 went over to the window. It was a 
 still, maddening day; the horses toiled 
 between their shafts; the springs of life 
 moved wearily even on Park row. He 
 looked at his watch. It was half-past 
 four. At six he was due at The Play- 
 ers to dine with an actor, who, by 
 means of a haunting voice and a pair 
 of fine eyes, enjoyed an income that 
 equalled the Vice-President's. He had 
 promised to go to a dance on board a 
 yacht anchored in the Sound. He be- 
 gan to wish he could escape the latter 
 and instead find his way to the ham- 
 mock on his roof-top, where he could 
 smoke under the stars. At thirty-six, 
 with hair whitening, he was getting 
 past dances. 
 
 " The young lady " commenced 
 Pete timidly at his elbow. 
 
 "Oh, there is a lady! I'd forgotten. 
 Show her in," and he slipped on the 
 alpaca coat lying across the chair. 
 
 The swinging door was pushed back, 
 and Anne Garrick came toward him. 
 She seemed, in the first inattentive
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 glance, tall, slenderly made, her face 
 showing marks of care or illness, yet 
 pretty enough to be interesting. Her 
 eyes were long, very bright, yet soft, 
 and they were a deep brown like her 
 hair. Her gown was of mourning cloth 
 and she wore a black sailor hat. 
 
 David drew a chair forward for her 
 and, seating himself opposite, let his 
 great shoulders rest easily, while he re- 
 garded her, as was his fashion, through 
 half-veiled eyes. 
 
 " Miss Garrick?" he said, glancing at 
 the slip. " What can I do for you ? 
 You'll pardon me if I tell you at once 
 that I have a dinner engagement at six 
 and have only a few moments to spare." 
 
 This was said with one of David's 
 confidential smiles. 
 
 " I sha'n't keep you long," she said, 
 leaning forward, " Dr. Ericsson, my 
 uncle, sent me to you." 
 
 " Oh, yes. How is he ? I've not seen 
 him for a month." 
 
 " He's very well, thank you." 
 
 " So you come on business from him ? "
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 and David breathed freely. " Do you 
 know, Miss Garrick, I was afraid you 
 were here as an applicant for work on 
 the paper ? " 
 
 " So I am," she said, her eyes amused. 
 " Is it quite useless? " 
 
 "You mean you really want news- 
 paper work ? " and his tone was almost 
 reproachful. 
 
 " I really do. I want it more than 
 anything else in the world. Indeed, I 
 want nothing else," she said earnestly. 
 
 " You have some illusions about it, 
 perhaps ? " 
 
 "I don't think so, and I must work." 
 
 The words were spoken lightly, but 
 with an urgent note. David was in- 
 terested. His fingers fell from the fob 
 he had been twisting in regard for the 
 passing moments. He noticed the line 
 of impatience between her straight 
 brows, the intensity in the bend of her 
 mouth, the paleness of her worn yet 
 youthful face, her intent attitude. 
 
 He had met many women demand- 
 ing just such martial struggles in the
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 battle of existence. Here was an- 
 other. What should he say to her 
 the old objections, the old warnings? 
 He was disinclined for the task more 
 for some reason now than ever be- 
 fore. But the "Citizen" did not want 
 women among its workers. That was 
 one of his father's prejudices which 
 he had never set aside. 
 
 He returned to the argument, but 
 his tone was still persuasive. This 
 surprised himself, yet he felt it was 
 because Miss Garrick came from Dr. 
 Ericsson, and his liking for the old 
 Swedish physician was a very deep 
 one. He would not admit to himself 
 that there was another reason the 
 youth, the charm, of this woman mak- 
 ing the plea he had rejected so often. 
 
 " The work is terribly hard, Miss 
 Garrick, and really," he said, as if mak- 
 ing an admission almost against his 
 will, " I don't regard the newspaper as 
 a field for women." 
 
 "Don't you? Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, it's a blistering atmosphere,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 and women were never meant to find 
 nourishment in hard facts. I advise 
 you to do something else write a 
 book, or teach, or anything." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Temple," she said with sud- 
 den earnestness, " I don't feel that way 
 about it! I want to be a journalist." 
 
 David felt a desire to know her a 
 little better to hear her views and 
 then dismiss them successfully. He 
 had still fifteen minutes to spare. He 
 began to think she was very pretty. 
 
 " Have you ever been on a paper?" 
 
 " No, although I've written a great 
 deal," she said, while watching him 
 intently. " I thought I might get some- 
 thing to do regularly some position. 
 I know I'd succeed. I wish you'd try 
 me." 
 
 " No I can't," he said, almost 
 brusquely, " and I hope you'll change 
 your mind and try something else. 
 Besides, I haven't anything I could 
 offer you, nothing a woman could do 
 much too difficult. You take my 
 advice and try something else."
 
 8 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 "I think I know what you mean" 
 and she stood up. " You think this 
 work hardly feminine " 
 
 He nodded. She looked disap- 
 pointed, but unconvinced. 
 
 " And you're afraid of encouraging 
 incompetence." 
 
 "Oh, no, really, I" 
 
 "Yes, I think you are. Well, I'll 
 tell you just the way I feel about it. I 
 must be a journalist " 
 
 " Why must you ? " 
 
 " Because I know Pm fitted for it, 
 and the life attracts me. I might have 
 preferred to be a painter or a musician, 
 but we are not allowed to select our 
 talents." She smiled and moved a step 
 away. "If you can't employ me there's 
 nothing more to be said about it, and 
 I'm sorry for having detained you. 
 But somebody else will employ me. 
 I've only been in New York a month, 
 and you're the first editor I've seen. 
 This will explain why Dr. Ericsson 
 suggested my coming to you. I 
 showed it to him."
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 She drew a letter from her pocket 
 and handed it to David. He was sur- 
 prised to see the heading of the " Citi- 
 zen " on the sheet, his own handwriting 
 beneath it. It was written to a man 
 named Robert Heron, and directed to 
 a small Rhode Island town. 
 
 " You know Heron? " he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 " Yes. You like his work, it 
 seems." 
 
 " Very much," he said, in a mystified 
 voice. " I don't as a rule seek ' specials' 
 outside, but his were so trenchant, so 
 brilliantly phrased, so exactly what we 
 wanted, I couldn't help, you see, writ- 
 ing to ask the cause of his long silence. 
 Most of his work, of whatever sort, has 
 commanded attention here. Now, there's 
 a man," said David enthusiastically and 
 in the final tone which closes an argu- 
 ment, " I sometimes wish had the am- 
 bition and spirit of the woman of to-day. 
 He's wasting his time in a small place 
 doing desultory work ; a dreamer, I dare 
 say an idler too. We need men like
 
 io A Circle in the Sand 
 
 him here. I wish you'd tell him so," 
 he smiled. 
 
 Anne's eyes were perversely girlish 
 as she said simply: 
 
 " Pm Robert Heron, Mr. Temple."
 
 Chapter II 
 
 THE advent of a woman in the edi- 
 torial rooms of the " Citizen " 
 was no longer the latest topic there. 
 Anne had been one of the staff for a 
 fortnight. 
 
 She had come with a reputation al- 
 ready made, which she must continue 
 to sustain. Every nerve had been 
 strained to do this, and she had suc- 
 ceeded. All other impressions had been 
 lost sight of in this one purpose. The 
 rush and pressure of life around her, the 
 strange scenes and faces, the new rou- 
 tine, seemed the fabric of a dream- 
 world where she was the intensely vital 
 figure. 
 
 Although her working hours were 
 short, the continued effort and oppres- 
 sive heat had given her face a wan touch. 
 But she felt no fatigue. On the con-
 
 12 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 trary she was aware of the satisfaction 
 arising from fulfilment. This niche in 
 the dusty, metallic world where a great 
 newspaper was made was the only thing 
 she had craved. To prove herself worthy 
 of its possession was the single aim of 
 her life. David Temple had hesitated 
 to engage her because she was a woman. 
 He had told her she would soon weary. 
 She must prove his prophecy false. 
 This was the impetus that made her 
 bold. The result was gratifying. 
 
 Matters of social and moral impor- 
 tance started out vividly during the ter- 
 rible summer weather. The handling of 
 some of these was assigned to Anne. It 
 would seem that David Temple had 
 decided to take her cruelly at her word 
 and treat her as a man, or as if he had 
 wished to force an evidence of affright 
 or weakness from her. He was mis- 
 taken. Anne was a soldier's daughter. 
 Best of all, she was confident of her 
 right to be there. Robert Heron had 
 never done better work than came from 
 her pen during that fortnight.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 13 
 
 When she had defended her position 
 and won, there came a lull, and with- 
 out seeming to watch she absorbed a 
 knowledge of the people around her and 
 noticed what events and colorings go to 
 make up existence in a newspaper office. 
 
 There was the sentimental reporter, 
 who furtively read and re-read feminine- 
 looking letters and sighed over stock 
 reports; the silent man with the scarred 
 face, who smoked strong cigars; the 
 society editor, whose smile was as well 
 oiled as his russet boots; the baby-faced 
 reporter, who betted on everything and 
 " matched " on the smallest provoca- 
 tion; the fretful critic with the perpet- 
 ual cold in the head, who banged the 
 door as if to insinuate his exit was final, 
 and who always returned in a rush for 
 something forgotten; the artist loung- 
 ing with an exalted look to his feet, who 
 drew inspiration from Egyptian cigar- 
 ettes; Pete, the office boy, with terrible 
 worldly knowledge in his pale eyes and 
 the savoir faire of a veteran clubman in 
 his manner, who grew confidential with
 
 14 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 her and tried to interest her in the intri- 
 cacies of baseball; and David Temple, 
 the editor-in-chief, who, unlike many 
 of his compeers, worked hard, bringing 
 with him an assurance of well-bred ease 
 and a capability for exertion and endur- 
 ance. 
 
 Her surroundings were so strange 
 that Anne often wondered if it were 
 indeed she who was there, the lonely 
 girl who in the well-stocked library of 
 a silent country house had written most 
 of the historical and descriptive " spe- 
 cials" which had commanded attention. 
 
 While the clatter of the presses and 
 the unaccustomed tread of life were in 
 her ears she would close her eyes and 
 summon a vision of a different scene 
 and time: A hollow at the foot of a hill 
 where a great pool lay, and willow 
 branches like green lengths of dishev- 
 elled hair trailed in the water; a girl 
 herself, the Anne Garrick who was dead 
 never to rise again lying at full length 
 under the trees, her cheek upon an open 
 book, the fragrance of a lost land around
 
 A Circle in the Sand 15 
 
 her, the whir of unseen wings, the fire- 
 flies in the blackness under the cedars 
 or flashing like uneasy eyes from the 
 confusion of lush grass, the sound of 
 water pushing its way through twisted 
 weeds with a coquettish whimper like 
 silk rubbed on silk. 
 
 Some snatch of a street song, the 
 exciting news of the last murder, or 
 the clangor of Trinity's bell would 
 frighten these imaginings, and despite 
 her pagan love of nature she would 
 return to work, happy that the last 
 two years of solitude and reverie were 
 over. 
 
 David talked to her very little and 
 never about anything save work. She 
 watched him and found him curiously 
 interesting. Other men were more or 
 less of a familiar type, but David Tem- 
 ple was individual. A nascent force 
 marked his lightest action. To be near 
 him was like coming within the radius 
 of a powerful electric current. 
 
 She had always liked clean-shaved 
 men. They seemed a degree farther
 
 16 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 from the idea of the ancestral monkey 
 than their bewhiskered brothers. David 
 was clean-shaved, spare of flesh, strongly 
 built. There was unity in his simple 
 name, stern face, searching gray eyes, 
 and the practical surroundings in which 
 he worked. Back of his desk the bound 
 volumes of the " Citizen" for a genera- 
 tion were sombrely heaped. Electric 
 wires and buildings of granite were 
 visible beyond the window near which 
 he sat. The man and his mission were 
 melodic. 
 
 Anne was slowly drawing on her 
 gloves one evening when the reporter 
 with the scarred face laid down his 
 cigar and asked a question of nobody 
 in particular. 
 
 " Any of you fellows know where 
 Donald Sefain has hidden himself this 
 time?" 
 
 The name attracted her, and she 
 found herself waiting for the reply. 
 
 " Oh, Lord, it's too warm to think of 
 Sefain's vagaries! He's probably trying 
 tenement-house life again with some of
 
 A Circle in the Sand 17 
 
 his slum friends while a penny remains. 
 When he's broke he'll come back and 
 work for another spurt," the society 
 editor replied with fine unconcern. 
 
 "Fool! Flinging himself away! He 
 won't last long." 
 
 " D' you know what I'd do if I were 
 in Temple's place and had such a pre- 
 cious bundle of shiftlessness and surli- 
 ness for a so-called brother" 
 
 " H'm! There isn't much doubt 
 about what you'd do." 
 
 " Kick him out." And the society 
 editor fingered his imperial tenderly. 
 
 " I think he hates Temple more 
 every day," said Jack Braidley, the 
 reporter who " matched." " He's an 
 idea he's one too many in the world, 
 I fancy." 
 
 The words were hardly spoken when 
 the door opened and a man came in. 
 From the hush greeting his entrance 
 Anne knew it was Donald Sefain. 
 She looked at him attentively. 
 
 There were unmistakable marks of 
 vagabondism about him his dusty
 
 1 8 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 clothes, churlish manner, long, untidy 
 hair. He was of moderate height and 
 slender build, he carried his shoulders 
 poorly, and his eyes were sunken. But 
 for all this his dark, foreign face, sneer- 
 ing, secretive, defiant, was startlingly 
 handsome as he stood in the red wash 
 tones of the sunset pouring through 
 the dusty windows. 
 
 He looked at Anne with some sur- 
 prise in his glance, his expression 
 questioning; then he became indiffer- 
 ent, nodded curtly to the men, and sat 
 down at a corner desk. From his atti- 
 tude one would have supposed he was 
 sketching or writing. As she passed 
 him to the door she saw his fingers 
 were motionless, his open eyes intro- 
 spective. 
 
 While the room contained a dozen 
 men, it was evident Donald Sefain 
 would be left alone with his musings. 
 He had withdrawn from the others as 
 if from habit. Even before she had 
 passed into the hall they seemed to 
 have forgotten his existence.
 
 Chapter III 
 
 THREE miles lay between the of- 
 fices of the " Citizen" and the 
 trio of rooms Anne had rented and fur- 
 nished during the six weeks of her res- 
 idence in New York. They were in a 
 low red-brick house separated from 
 the street by a patch of grass and 
 iron palings. The neighborhood had 
 Washington square for its nucleus, 
 the only part of the money-making 
 town preserving the mossy tone of 
 Knickerbocker days, where occasional 
 low doorsteps and spindle-legged ban- 
 isters keep the costumes and manners 
 of the century's infancy clear in the 
 memory. 
 
 Anne loved the queer street, the ven- 
 erable church opposite, with its unfash- 
 ionable parishioners and sweet-tongued 
 bell, the amethyst light stealing across 
 19
 
 2O A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the landscape of roofs, the fret of trains 
 flashing past in aerial passage not far 
 off and leaving a plume of vapor be- 
 hind, the passing of many people along 
 the pavements reaching into smoky per- 
 spective. 
 
 These impressions were a ripening 
 contact, helping to wake her to newer 
 perceptions of life, making her realize 
 that she stood unsupported in a crowded, 
 struggling place. 
 
 She had the exhilarating sensations 
 of a daring and capable swimmer who 
 plunges into deep water where only his 
 own skill can keep him afloat. 
 
 Her eyes were shining, her color 
 high, as she hurried up the narrow 
 stairway and entered the sitting-room. 
 An old man was standing by one of 
 the windows and turned expectantly 
 as she came in. It was Dr. Ericsson. 
 He looked at her with cool, friendly 
 scrutiny. 
 
 " Fve been waiting for you again. 
 There's something witching about you, 
 Anne," he said helplessly. " You've
 
 A Circle in the Sand 21 
 
 quite spoiled me for solitude. Every 
 dinner I have away from you is like 
 sawdust." 
 
 Anne laid her arm lightly around his 
 shoulder. She was a little the taller. 
 There was something charmingly auda- 
 cious in her young face and protecting 
 attitude contrasted with his gray hair 
 and sixty odd years. She had the im- 
 petuosity and assurance of a fresh run- 
 ner who fears nothing on the long, 
 mysterious race just begun. He had 
 the half-defeated expression of one ap- 
 proaching with lagging steps the end, 
 and who thinks little even of the win- 
 ning of that race which nevertheless 
 must be run in one fashion or another. 
 
 u I never knew a man so eager for 
 compliments," she said, her lips curl- 
 ing in playful scorn. " Shall I fib, and 
 say every meal is lonely without you? 
 Not a bit of it! I come home so hungry, 
 uncle dear, and the man at the corner 
 sends in such good chops! I put on a 
 blouse and dream over my coffee, while 
 Nora in the kitchen sings Irish melo-
 
 22 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 dies in an adorable voice and with a 
 creamlike brogue." 
 
 She laid her finger under his chin 
 and looked into his eyes. 
 
 " But when you do come, you dear, 
 cynical creature, I shelve dreams gladly 
 and don't care a pin for Nora's songs. 
 Satisfied?" 
 
 She hurried away to change her 
 gown, and Dr. Ericsson was left alone 
 in the dusk. He listened in a dreamy 
 way to the maid crossing and recrossing 
 the rug-covered floor. His arms hung 
 by his sides, his eyes were fastened 
 on a trail of smoke diminishing in the 
 sunset. 
 
 Thirty years before, then a young 
 Swede newly arrived in America for a 
 bout with fortune, he had married the 
 sister of Anne's mother. They had set- 
 tled in New York, and by degrees he 
 became successful and rich. His wife 
 was a beauty, his children's future 
 bright, and life went well. But trouble 
 came. His children, with the excep- 
 tion of Olga, the youngest, died during
 
 A Circle in the Sand 23 
 
 school days; his fortune, entrusted to false 
 friends, went to help their speculations 
 and was lost. Now, in old age, he was 
 a physician of reputation, but poor, 
 possessing a fashionably inclined wife, 
 whose weekly letters from Paris, where 
 she had elected to live when Olga's 
 school days in Switzerland were over, 
 were wearying longings for the vanished 
 wealth. His daughter was almost a 
 stranger to him. She had gone away 
 a child: she was now a woman of 
 twenty; what sort of a woman, evolved 
 by her mother's worldliness and a false 
 system of education, he hesitated to 
 consider. His life was spent in the 
 depleted family mansion on Waverly 
 place, with one old servant, amid furni- 
 ture masked in gray holland and por- 
 traits of his lost children blinking 
 through gauze sheetings. Only his 
 patients and friends had prevented him 
 from becoming like the piano in the 
 corner, which had almost forgotten how 
 to vibrate. 
 
 But he knew what a home might be
 
 24 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 since Anne came to New York. He 
 was very fond of her, wholly in sym- 
 pathy with her. His gaze wandered 
 to a shadowy pastel on the wall before 
 him, where her deep eyes were touched 
 by the sunset's fire. It seemed to tell 
 him much. Hers had been a stern, 
 starved girlhood up to the present year. 
 After college days and between the 
 ages of twenty and twenty-three she 
 had been chained to the bedside of an 
 invalid father, her life a strain when it 
 was not stagnation, unused energy fret- 
 ting her heart, what should have been 
 the sunniest period of her life drifting 
 by in shadow. 
 
 When her father died, she had found 
 herself wholly orphaned and free to 
 plan her future according to her tastes. 
 She had a small income, a thorough 
 education, and the talent of being able 
 to write with splendor and force of 
 whatever she felt deeply. The con- 
 trolled yearnings for freedom had grown 
 into one desire, and she had gratified it. 
 The old home was rented, and like a
 
 A Circle in the Sand 25 
 
 young David entering the camp of the 
 Philistines she had come to New York. 
 Three things she had determined on 
 to live alone, work, fill her days with 
 impressions of life, fling away books 
 and study men and women. 
 
 When the maid appeared with can- 
 dles Anne followed her, a bowl of 
 roses in her hands. The newspaper 
 woman in severe, collared gown was 
 gone, and in her place was an ex- 
 quisite creature akin to the flowers 
 and the starry lights. Her shoulders 
 and arms gleamed through a gauzy 
 black bodice. A modish knot showed 
 the fine abundance of her hair. One 
 rose was fastened at her bosom, where 
 it flamed in splendid warmth. 
 
 Dr. Ericsson looked at her critically. 
 She was more than pretty: she was 
 imperfectly lovely, or, rather, beautiful 
 without fulfilling conventional canons. 
 During quiet moments her face was 
 serene and alluring: the dark hair upon 
 the pale brow like banded velvet, the 
 liquid brown eyes poetically thought-
 
 26 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 ful, the mouth appealing. Softness, 
 strength, and color were all there. But 
 in action and expression lay her strong- 
 est charm. When the lips smiled, when 
 the eyes lightened, and the small, deli- 
 cate hands as restless as a French- 
 woman's emphasized her words, Anne 
 was irresistible. 
 
 " I am going to give you a summer 
 dinner," she said, her fingers lingering 
 among the roses. 
 
 " Nothing but roses ? " 
 
 " You'd be near Nirvana if that could 
 satisfy you. Nora, bring the soup," she 
 added, in a purposely practical tone, as 
 she seated herself. 
 
 They were like children together. 
 Anne listened attentively as she led the 
 old man on to philosophize of life as he 
 saw it. She told him of her newspaper 
 work, its newness, its delight; of the 
 novel she had commenced, and how 
 sometimes she rose at dead of night to 
 make a note of an idea or a phrase; of 
 all her faiths, dreams, and prejudices. 
 To him she was piteously youthful. To
 
 A Circle in the Sand 27 
 
 her he was old, wise, and weary. He 
 had settled all with destiny. She was 
 buckling on her armor. It seemed that 
 the heart he had lost throbbed in her 
 bosom; he longed that the impossible 
 might be made possible and she might 
 keep it forever so valiant, free, happy. 
 
 " I suppose you know David Temple 
 very well by this time?" he asked. 
 
 " You'd be surprised if you knew how 
 seldom he has spoken to me," she said, 
 resting familiarly on her elbow. " He 
 sometimes seems a marvellously con- 
 structed machine instead of a man. He 
 works so hard. He seems able to at- 
 tend to twenty things at once." 
 
 " Yes; to lead is in his blood." 
 
 " That's it," she nodded. " If he'd 
 been born in a forest in tribal days 
 they'd have made him chief. Or can't 
 you fancy him a pirate, or a stupendous 
 criminal with a horde of cringing fol- 
 lowers, or a cardinal with an eye to 
 pierce a conscience and subjugate a 
 king, or a general like Napoleon, gaz- 
 ing indifferently over the fields of the
 
 28 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 dead? Do you know," she said, in an 
 awed, childish way, " I like him?" 
 
 "All women like him," snapped Dr. 
 Ericsson. 
 
 "Do they?" 
 
 " It's a feminine instinct which noth- 
 ing can kill, to like the man who domi- 
 nates you and who can do without 
 
 you." 
 
 " Well, go on," she said, leaning 
 closer. 
 
 " Women and their affairs," said Dr. 
 Ericsson, lighting a cigar, " engage Da- 
 vid Temple's thoughts very little. He 
 is not intolerant, he is simply indiffer- 
 ent, although most masculine in the 
 gentleness coming from a consciousness 
 of his own strength. It seems to me 
 as if a woman could never fill his many- 
 sided life. There are men born with 
 the love of women in their being, and it 
 grows with their growth. To possess 
 it too strenuously weakens a character 
 and often perverts what should be a 
 reverence into a taste. To possess it 
 with a separateness from the other in-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 29 
 
 terests of life suggests the lack of some 
 vital, spiritual fibre. I've felt this with 
 David. If he ever marries it will 
 be because his intellect suggests it as 
 wise, or because his physical nature 
 is enslaved. The two will scarcely 
 blend." 
 
 " Yes, he suggests all you say. By 
 the way, tell me about Donald Sefain 
 his stepbrother." 
 
 " Oh, have you seen him? " 
 
 " This afternoon. His face haunted 
 me all the way home." 
 
 " I see you have Vaudel's ' Desert 
 Monk ' on your shelf. You've read 
 it? The pictures are Donald Sefain's. 
 Fine, aren't they? I half believe he 
 made them just to show what he could 
 do, and then from ' cussedness ' flung 
 down his pen. He's done no serious 
 work since." 
 
 " Do tell me about him," and Anne, 
 leaving the table, wheeled a low arm- 
 chair to Dr. Ericsson's knee. 
 
 " It's a bit of a story. Can you 
 reach me a match? Thank you, my
 
 30 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 dear. This is very cosey." He sat back 
 and half closed his eyes. " When 
 David Temple was about fifteen his 
 father, as hard and stern a man as 
 ever lived, married a Frenchwoman, 
 a widow with a boy of six. Some 
 people know and a great many sus- 
 pect there never was a Mr. Sefain, and 
 the boy Donald was as surely John 
 Temple's son as David, for whom 
 he'd have cut out his eyes, he loved 
 him so. Well, Mrs. Sefain was a 
 beautiful woman, an adventuress with 
 the manners of a duchess. I never 
 saw her in a brocade dress without 
 thinking how well she'd look on one 
 of those little pompadour fans, all cov- 
 ered with roses and things. Donald is 
 the picture of her. I think his eyes 
 and smile the latter too rare, God 
 help him ! would glorify a plain face 
 into beauty. After five years of the 
 most absolutely perfect marital misery 
 Donald's mother died, and he was left 
 in old John Temple's care. It was a 
 hard fate."
 
 A Circle in the Sand 31 
 
 " Why ? He didn't like him ? " 
 
 "Like him? He hated him as only 
 an intolerant, conscientious man can 
 hate. Donald was a constant reproach 
 to him and a reminder of his married 
 unhappiness. He never let David be 
 friends with him, never. You see, 
 Donald hadn't a fair chance. He was 
 a lonely little soul." 
 
 "Why didn't he set his teeth and 
 make something of himself ? " said 
 Anne, with the defiance of a champion. 
 
 " Ah, that's what he should have 
 done, exactly! But he didn't. Instead, 
 at twenty, after leaving John Temple's 
 house, he went from bad to worse. His 
 face to-day bears scars of the odds against 
 him. He's a failure. I tried to get near 
 him, but he wouldn't let me be his friend. 
 It is one of his perversities to affect the 
 poor and mingle with the unfortunate. 
 Anything prosperous inspires a morbid 
 dislike in him; all that's deformed, 
 shunned, all that lies in shadow, finds 
 favor in his sight. He's a strange 
 and silent creature, drinking feverishly,
 
 32 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 cultivating his worst instincts, finding 
 an unreasonable satisfaction in offering 
 himself as a sacrifice to the discontent 
 instilled into him through the circum- 
 stances of his life." 
 
 " I don't understand why he's on 
 the 6 Citizen' with David Temple." 
 
 " Oh, he simply does work for that as 
 well as a few other papers ! He's brim- 
 ful of talent. David employs him as he 
 would a stranger, and pays him for what 
 work he turns in. He's seldom in the 
 office." 
 
 The clock struck nine, and Dr. Erics- 
 son started up. 
 
 "Good heavens! And a sick man not 
 a mile off is waiting for me! " 
 
 He got into his coat, kissed her, and 
 hurried away. 
 
 She carried the bowl of roses from 
 the table to the mantel and stood for a 
 moment with her hands upon them, a 
 look of disquietude in her eyes. She 
 was thinking of Donald Sefain.
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 AFRESH, bright afternoon, a va- 
 grant from spring coming between 
 stretches of torrid heat. 
 
 The stone hall leading from the edito- 
 rial rooms to the stairs was deserted as 
 David Temple stepped from his office. 
 He could hear voices and laughter 
 through half-opened doors, the din from 
 the streets and shrieking from factory 
 whistles sounding at that height like 
 the deepening howl of a mob. When 
 he turned the corner he saw Anne Gar- 
 rick, her hand upon the brass scroll- 
 work around the elevator. She looked 
 tired and very young. 
 
 A protest leaped into David's heart. 
 He had sometimes experienced the 
 same feeling for a city child contentedly 
 threading beads in the gutter a wish to 
 transplant it to something more happy, 
 33
 
 34 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 to a meadow where breeze, sunlight, 
 and leafage were a symphony. At the 
 thought a grim smile twitched his lips. 
 Miss Garrick was weary of peace and 
 loved the treadmill work in the noisy 
 world. She had told him so. 
 
 " Have you rung? " he asked, reach- 
 ing her side. 
 
 " Yes, but there's some delay below," 
 said Anne, peering down. 
 
 " I'll emphasize the fact that the edi- 
 tor and one of the best writers on 
 the ' Citizen ' are waiting." A flash 
 of humor came into his eyes, and he 
 kept his finger upon the bell until its 
 vibrations awoke echoes in the shaft. 
 It was no use, and David looked dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 " We'll have to take to the stairs. 
 Give me your parasol and let's make the 
 best of it. You can rest by the way." 
 
 They went side by side down the 
 seemingly never-ending iron stairway. 
 
 " Are you tired ? " he asked when 
 the second landing had been reached. 
 " Wait a minute."
 
 A Circle in the Sand 35 
 
 David took off his hat and stood fac- 
 ing her. They were in deep shadow, 
 the sounds of life above, below, skim- 
 ming around without touching their 
 isolation. 
 
 " Miss Garrick, I've wanted to say 
 something to you for several days," he 
 said, smiling. " I want to take back 
 what I said about women being unfit 
 for newspaper work. You have done 
 splendidly and against great odds." 
 
 "Oh, do you think so?" And the 
 color came into Anne's cheeks. "I did 
 find the work hard, and it's been so 
 hot." Her glance became a little chal- 
 lenging. " And do you think a woman 
 may still be feminine, even if she is not 
 an exotic ? " 
 
 " Oh, I like the exotic woman ! " said 
 David as they went on. " I like a 
 woman sublimely useless, providing 
 she's a lot of other things. You have 
 proved your right to the career you've 
 chosen, but you're one of a paralyzing 
 minority. Why don't you acknowledge 
 it?"
 
 36 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 His tone was intentionally provok- 
 ing, and Anne laughed, her glance a 
 negative. 
 
 As they stepped from the shadow into 
 the light of the lower hall the glare 
 through the archway of the door dazzled 
 them. 
 
 " It's a lovely day," said David. " The 
 atmosphere is amazingly clear." They 
 paused for a moment on the doorstep 
 and looked at the picture of the city. 
 " Every detail," he added, " shows with 
 the accuracy of a photograph the blue 
 in the shirts of those laborers, the 
 brown of the trench, the violet-green 
 of that bit of grass, the flags in the blue 
 air. Are you going to walk ? " he asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Yes ; there's such a good breeze." 
 
 " If you've no objection, I'll walk 
 with you." 
 
 A pulse of exultation quickened in 
 Anne's heart as they went up the 
 swarming street, David adapting his 
 steps to hers. 
 
 " Tell me," he said curiously, " what
 
 A Circle in the Sand 37 
 
 Dr. Ericsson thinks of your independent 
 spirit." 
 
 " He takes it entirely for granted." 
 
 " I am behind the times, I suppose," 
 he said, with a short laugh. " Well, 
 I can't help it. I don't like the inde- 
 pendent woman. Oh, she has virtues! 
 But when woman loses her incon- 
 sistency and self-doubt she loses her 
 charm. 
 
 " She needn't. If she's in earnest and 
 loves it, why shouldn't she work and 
 live alone as I do " 
 
 " But you live with your uncle, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " No. I am much more comfortable 
 as I am. I came here sure of a small 
 income. I earn that sum twice over 
 now, I live alone, and I'm writing a 
 book." 
 
 "Really!" 
 
 They continued in silence, and then 
 David looked at her squarely. 
 
 " I am thinking what an amazing 
 gulf lies between you and your great- 
 grandmother. Wouldn't she scold you
 
 38 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 if she could come back ? Wouldn't she, 
 though?" 
 
 "I dare say," said Anne placidly; 
 " but I wouldn't approve of my great- 
 grandmother, nor of my grandmother 
 either." 
 
 David threw back his head as a boy 
 does before a shout of laughter, cor- 
 rected himself, and looked at her with 
 weighty seriousness. 
 
 " Really, impertinence couldn't go 
 farther." 
 
 Anne's smile was both naive and 
 speculative as she continued: 
 
 " My grandmothers had no spirit, no 
 originality, went in for artistic fainting 
 and wrote silly love-rhymes. They were 
 as savorless as oatmeal without salt, 
 those admirable, chimney-corner wom- 
 en. Their husbands thought nothing 
 of crying i Tush ' at them, and they 
 'tushed ' beautifully. Oh, they wouldn't 
 be at all popular to-day." 
 
 " But you are not a r new ' woman ? " 
 said David, with some awe. 
 
 " No," and the denial was uncompro-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 39 
 
 mising. " I hate the ? new ' woman. 
 You have not classified me correctly. 
 I hope I am the awakened woman." 
 
 u I never heard of her before." 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you something about 
 her. Without retaining the womanli- 
 ness of the clinging heroine of the past, 
 and without feeling to a sensible extent 
 a desire for progress, she could not ex- 
 ist. She is the result of extremes past 
 and present." 
 
 "Many of her?" 
 
 " She's everywhere. Her privileges 
 are so many she's busy enjoying them. 
 There's little said about her, but every 
 one who thinks knows she is the woman 
 of to-day." 
 
 Her earnestness made her face 
 strangely lovely, and the thought 
 prompted David's next words. 
 
 " Does she like to be pretty? " 
 
 " She delights in it. She's not merely 
 a good chum with men, nor is she a 
 plaything nor an intellectual machine; 
 she's a woman," she said, and there was 
 music in the word. " She believes that
 
 40 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 marrying the man she loves and she 
 can't love the weak, the stupid, the 
 hopelessly corrupt is the culmination 
 of the purpose for which she was 
 created. She's not ignorant of the 
 existence of evil, but it has not tempted 
 or hardened her. But, best of all, she's 
 not a paragon. Her aspirations are 
 high and good, her faults alluring. 
 Now you know my ideal." 
 
 By the time her home was reached 
 they were very well acquainted. Anne 
 felt herself come very near the gentlest 
 side of David's nature as she gave him 
 her hand. He clasped it earnestly as 
 he looked into her untroubled eyes. 
 
 " New York is dead in summer time," 
 he said irrelevantly. " All one's friends 
 away ! So few people one cares to talk 
 to, anyway!" 
 
 An unreasoning sense of gladness 
 filled Anne. She knew he was waiting 
 for her to speak. 
 
 " Dr. Ericsson spends many of his 
 evenings here. When you feel inclined, 
 come in too."
 
 A Circle in the Sand 41 
 
 " I will," he said gratefully. 
 
 And he did. Often after busy days 
 during which scarcely a word was 
 exchanged between them he would 
 find himself strolling through the sul- 
 try night to the grateful coolness of 
 Anne's rooms. Dr. Ericsson was gen- 
 erally there, but sometimes they were 
 alone. 
 
 The unusualness of unhampered 
 comradeship with a bright, young, 
 and pretty woman, their long, satis- 
 fying talks on subjects whimsically 
 varied, the independence of Anne's 
 solitude, her courageous position as a 
 worker, level with his own as a man, 
 appealed to David with a charm new 
 in his experience. 
 
 As he grew more and more inter- 
 ested his visits increased. They be- 
 came good friends. Sometimes while 
 the moon looked over the roof-tops and 
 the candles flamed in the night breeze 
 Anne sang to him. Sometimes Dr. 
 Ericsson and she dined with him, 
 mostly in cool, suburban places, re-
 
 42 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 quiring long drives along the almost 
 empty avenues and through the massed 
 shadows of the park. Sometimes on 
 David's roof-top, made comfortable 
 with rugs and hammocks, they three 
 saw the day die and the stars gather 
 like eyes to watch the clashing ways 
 of life. Every day his fondness for 
 her deepened. She was his comrade 
 and friend. He felt himself her silent 
 champion and protector.
 
 Chapter V 
 
 you think Temple will get 
 here to-night before the paper's 
 out?" And the news editor nervously 
 rolled and unrolled the copy he held. 
 
 " When he says he'll do a thing, he 
 does it," said Frawley, the managing 
 editor, who was covering the pages be- 
 fore him with blue lines from his flash- 
 ing pencil until they looked like maps 
 of a railroad that followed an incon- 
 sequent course and met in a labyrinth. 
 
 Anne looked at the clock. It was 
 after ten. The pencil dropped from 
 her fingers and she pulled the shade 
 from above her tired eyes. Since 
 seven she had been writing in a race 
 against time, and now, her work com- 
 pleted, she was tingling with fatigue. 
 
 It was the first of November. The 
 summer, unlike any other of her life, 
 
 43
 
 44 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 seemed far away. Made up of dusty, 
 feverish days and happy nights, it was 
 past, like a sleep. Through the win- 
 dow before her she could see the fog 
 dripping over the city, a curtain of 
 sootiness, its folds breaking on the 
 angles of houses, the lights of the 
 town white splashes on the haze. 
 The world looked sullen, as if choked 
 under that sooty pall into submission 
 and silence. And yet none knew bet- 
 ter than she, sitting aloft among the 
 chroniclers, of the snarl among the un- 
 happy, of the turmoil and crime seeth- 
 ing there, and the ambition which 
 spared no brother for the uprising of 
 self. 
 
 It had been a day of extraordinary 
 climaxes. A murder in high places 
 had horrified the city. The political 
 struggle was hurrying to a crisis. 
 The latest telegrams told of disas- 
 trous floods in one State, and a strike 
 of many thousand miners in another. 
 
 As a result there were to-night more 
 striking of bells and the dragging sound
 
 A Circle in the Sand 45 
 
 of hurrying feet than were usual even 
 during the exciting hours just previous 
 to the paper going to press. There 
 was expectancy on the absorbed faces. 
 Unrest hung in the air like a storm- 
 cloud. 
 
 After a week's absence David Tem- 
 ple was momentarily expected. He 
 had wired to suspend any arrange- 
 ments regarding the assignment of 
 reporters to the scene of the strikes 
 until his arrival. While the usual 
 routine of making the paper went on 
 the men were waiting for him. 
 
 Anne was waiting for him too. A 
 trembling anticipation swept over her 
 as she fancied him coming through the 
 open door. He would bring restful- 
 ness into the confusion, a visible power 
 to the handling of the several prob- 
 lems, and it would be good to see him 
 again. 
 
 " He ought to be here now," said 
 Jack Braidley, strolling over to her 
 desk. " I hope he'll let me out of 
 Platt's Peak. I don't want that assign-
 
 46 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 ment. Starving miners are not much 
 in my line." 
 
 " I thought not," said Anne dryly, 
 gathering together the copy headed 
 " The Sunday Page," which during the 
 present stress she edited. " I never saw 
 you look as happy as the day you were 
 sent out to inspect and describe the 
 Duke of Stockbury's wedding clothes 
 when he came over to marry the sugar 
 refiner's daughter. They were in your 
 line." 
 
 " Oh, I say, you do chaff a fellow 
 horribly! But seriously, I'm playing 
 for the dramatic critic's place. Jove! 
 Fancy calling that work every pretty 
 actress smiling at you pleadingly! I 
 was made for it. By the way, Miss 
 Garrick, why don't you go on the stage ? 
 Beastly work this, for a pretty girl ! " 
 
 Anne was not listening to him. Lean- 
 ing her elbow on the back of the chair, 
 her hand curved like a cup to support 
 her chin, she was looking at Donald 
 Sefain, who had just come in. 
 
 There he was, shabby, silent, a recluse
 
 A Circle in the Sand 47 
 
 among the alert crowd. The discon- 
 tent in his worn eyes, his hopeless but 
 unconquered air, seemed now as always 
 like a sad, passionate phrase woven 
 unfittingly into the flourishes of a hack- 
 neyed tune. 
 
 She wondered if she would ever 
 know him, ever learn just what sinu- 
 osities of character, what experiences, 
 had made him the creature he was. 
 This wish had begun to tinge her days. 
 Nothing, however, seemed more un- 
 likely. They had not exchanged a 
 word. He held aloof from her as from 
 every one else. 
 
 " Look at that beast Sefain," mut- 
 tered Braidley. 
 
 " Why do you call him that? " And 
 Anne turned sharply upon him. 
 
 " Look at his clothes." 
 
 " They're not like the Duke of Stock- 
 bury's, are they ? " 
 
 "Besides, he drinks. I saw him drunk 
 once in this very room. It was last 
 spring, I think. His eyes were fright- 
 ful that day. I expected to have a good
 
 48 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 story about his suicide next morning. 
 But fellows like him never kill them- 
 selves." 
 
 Anne moved away and stood near 
 Frawley's desk, just as Donald went up 
 to him. 
 
 " I want to do the pictures for the 
 Platt's Peak strike," she heard him say, 
 in his surly, indifferent tone. 
 
 "Mr. Temple attends to that," said 
 Frawley, strolling over to watch the 
 telegrams coming in like mad. 
 
 " But I can't wait to see him unless 
 he comes within five minutes. I wish 
 you'd tell him I'd like to go to Platt's 
 Peak. I don't suppose there'll be a 
 rush for the place, anyway." 
 
 " Damned fussy about his minutes, 
 for a beggar," thought Frawley, but 
 answered in a colorless voice, " All 
 right." 
 
 Donald slouched over to his desk 
 and picked up his hat. He had neared 
 the door when Frawley, peering over 
 the operator's shoulder at the wire, 
 uttered a cry.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 49 
 
 " Good God ! " 
 
 Consternation and suspense fell upon 
 the place. It was as if a full heart had 
 suddenly ceased beating. In the still- 
 ness the shrill warnings of fog whistles 
 from the bay were eerie, as if witches 
 shrieked at the windows. Donald 
 paused at the door. Anne stood like 
 a stone. 
 
 " Hear this. Temple " And 
 Frawley sank back into a seat, un- 
 able to obey his impulse to speak. 
 
 " What, for heaven's sake ? " And 
 one of the men waiting seized the 
 tape from the operator's ringers. 
 
 " Southern express wrecked south 
 of Philadelphia. Many dead. David 
 Temple fatally injured." 
 
 There was much more. Details fol- 
 lowed, speculation, exclamations of 
 dismay and pity; but Anne heard only 
 those last four words. They had de- 
 scended like a sword, striking strength 
 and motion from her body and all but 
 one thought from her mind. She stood 
 with pale lips, a shadow weighing upon
 
 50 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 her eyes. She shivered as if in the 
 clammy dusk of death. There was a 
 blur, a grotesque mixing of faces and 
 objects, a sense as of being seized by 
 a horrible, separating current and torn 
 away from all things to which she 
 could cling, a sense of crushing loss. 
 
 She sat down before her desk, facing 
 the black window where the city lights 
 flickered. The horror faded into a pas- 
 sionate cry which, though unuttered, 
 shook her whole being. David among 
 the injured ! David far away, not strong 
 and controlling, but lying in voiceless 
 pain under the sullen sky! They said, 
 " Injured fatally." Perhaps it meant 
 dying, perhaps it meant dead. Dead! 
 The word seemed to take her by the 
 throat, hold her, look into her eyes, 
 deep into her heart, and laugh at what 
 it saw there. 
 
 Nothing in the past mattered beside 
 the rich truth that David had been her 
 friend, nothing in the future beside the 
 craving to touch him and hear him 
 speak her name once more. She knew
 
 A Circle in the Sand 51 
 
 in a revealing blaze the secret of her 
 heart that before she had not even 
 dimly understood. 
 
 Unconsciously she prayed as she sat 
 there staring into the vacuity of the 
 window. 
 
 " Save him! I love him, I love him, 
 I love him!"
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 DEAR MISS GARRICK : Your breezy let- 
 ter came like a voice from the outside 
 world into the solitude of my sick-room. I am 
 much better. In a week or two I'll be myself 
 again. The consequences of the accident are a 
 treacherously dizzy brain, a bandaged shoulder and 
 head, and a great weariness of everything under 
 the sun. Your request stupefies me. I never 
 heard of such reckless courage. Fancy you out 
 among the miners in these times of bloodshed ! 
 Do you know what it means ? I can imagine what 
 you will say. You are a student of life, and a read- 
 ing of selected passages will not content you. 
 However, we won't tear this subject to shreds 
 again. 
 
 Of course you know that from a mercantile 
 standpoint your report of the strike, your descrip- 
 tion of the life of the women in that hopeless place, 
 would be most valuable to the paper, and, if you 
 still wish to go, please, for friendship's sake, ask 
 Dr. Ericsson to go with you. I will write to him 
 too. About the stories. Don't go into the intri- 
 cacies of the strike. Tell the women's story in a 
 52
 
 A Circle in the Sand 53 
 
 woman's way. I'll feature them in the half weekly 
 and Sunday editions. Sefain, whom you have seen 
 in the office, is there now. I'll instruct him to 
 illustrate your stories, and, as he does excellent 
 work too, they ought to make a hit. The relief 
 fund which has been started will be forwarded to 
 you for distribution. After all these instructions I 
 urgently add don't go. 
 
 Faithfully, 
 
 DAVID TEMPLE. 
 
 This letter was held closely in Anne's 
 hand, hidden under the folds of her 
 travelling cloak, as the train carried her 
 over the hills of Pennsylvania. Dr. 
 Ericsson had closed his eyes upon the 
 gloominess of his surroundings and 
 fallen asleep upon the opposite seat. 
 She was free to think uninterruptedly, 
 her eyes upon the long lines of win- 
 dows curtained with mist and irisated 
 with raindrops, the reaches of land 
 patched with melting snow, the smoke 
 from infrequent cottages struggling in the 
 dampness and vanishing groundward as 
 if affrighted. 
 
 Ten commonplace days and nights
 
 54 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 had passed since sudden grief like a 
 flame had illumined her heart and set 
 before her eyes its hopeless, passionate 
 burden. 
 
 Since then she had been unquiet, the 
 happiness of knowing David's injury 
 would not be serious mixed with a 
 curious disinclination to see him again, 
 and a sense of defeat. It appeared 
 irritating that this love should have 
 unexpectedly awakened within her 
 when she had thought herself proud 
 and strong. It seemed as if her senses 
 had lightly succumbed to the potency 
 of environment, as if passion were a 
 mere impulse, and the man treading 
 the same path with her a man to love, 
 not the man her soul had irresistibly 
 sought and found. 
 
 And yet something within her, after 
 all reasoning, insisted on being heard. 
 It had an ecstatic voice and gave its 
 own golden meaning to the dark day. 
 She seemed drawn to David by a 
 warm, strong hand, and the delight of 
 yielding sent a feeling of sublime
 
 A Circle in the Sand 55 
 
 -weakness over her as comes to one 
 wearied who slips the will and sinks 
 to sleep. It was a happy fancy and 
 hid the meagre land under the hurry- 
 ing twilight from her sight. 
 
 Dr. Ericsson gave his body a chilly 
 shake and roused himself, opening one 
 eye querulously and then the other. 
 
 " You'll regret taking me as a travel- 
 ling companion, my dear. How long 
 have I been asleep ? " 
 
 " For hours. We'll get to Platt's 
 Peak in time for dinner." 
 
 Anne cleared away a spot on the 
 glass with her finger and gazed at the 
 blankness beyond. " You'll be hungry, 
 poor dear, won't you? " 
 
 "Dinner? Be thankful if we get 
 doughnuts, and cabbage or pork, and 
 fried bread. I know these places," he 
 grunted. " You don't know what you've 
 run into, young lady. I warned you. I 
 might have saved my breath." 
 
 " Fancy being able from actual expe- 
 rience to describe the pangs of hunger," 
 said Anne, with a laugh.
 
 56 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " Don't madden me. I've arrived at 
 the age when I respect a good dinner 
 as much as anything on earth. As the 
 irreproachable bourgeois said at the 
 pantomime when the ballet appeared, 
 ' I wish I hadn't came.'" 
 
 " You're in a vile humor to-day," 
 said Anne placidly. " I'm not." 
 
 " Of course you're not; you're a 
 woman. You've had your way and 
 you've made some one miserable, so 
 there you are," he jerked out, a smile 
 in his eyes. " But truly," he added, in a 
 different tone, " I had a letter from your 
 aunt this morning which annoyed me 
 very much. They'll be back sometime 
 in January." 
 
 " But you'll surely be glad to see 
 them?" 
 
 " Oh, fundamentally of course ! But 
 there's the house to be renovated not 
 good enough as it is. And I am made 
 distinctly aware that Olga is to be 
 brought here on a husband-hunting 
 skirmish. Foreigners evidently have 
 been given up as hopeless. My beau-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 57 
 
 tiful daughter has no money, you see." 
 
 He clasped his hands and looked 
 belligerent. 
 
 " Do you remember Olga at all ? I 
 took her down to your father's a few 
 times when she was a little thing." 
 
 " I remember her very distinctly," 
 and Anne laughed. " She scratched 
 my face once. We quarrelled all the 
 time. I remember that a little guinea- 
 hen of mine died, and I buried it with 
 proper religious pomp, singing over it 
 i Sister, thou wast mild and lovely.' 
 But Olga wouldn't have this at all and 
 interrupted the services with shrieks 
 and dances. We parted the frankest 
 of enemies. It will be curious to see 
 her again. Do you know she wasn't 
 at all pretty then ? " 
 
 " To-day she is a professional beauty 
 with no other ambition than to make a 
 good match. It will be strange to have 
 them back. But you won't desert me 
 then, Anne?" And he looked wistful. 
 
 " I have Mrs. Micawber's staying 
 qualities, you'll see," she said gayly.
 
 58 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 It was dark now. Beyond the win- 
 dows lay a tempestuous blackness 
 crossed at times by the red and green 
 of railroad lights. 
 
 Anne sat back and closed her eyes. 
 There was work before her, and she 
 meant to do it well. Besides the stub- 
 born law she had always followed of 
 putting the best of herself into her work, 
 there was now a determination to be- 
 come a name in the world of journal- 
 ism, and all for a reason that made her 
 a little ashamed, the milliner who 
 hummed a ballad while she twisted a 
 ribbon for a hat, the dairymaid who 
 eyed her rows of glistening pans with 
 a critical eye while listening for a foot- 
 step, shared this ambition with her, 
 simply the longing to appear well in 
 one man's eyes and be loved by him. 
 
 The rain was beating in a drumming 
 downpour on the roof of the car when 
 the brakeman swung in, a red lantern 
 in his hand. As he stood in the door- 
 way, the spray driving against his 
 crouched shoulders, the bloody blotch
 
 A Circle in the Sand 59 
 
 of light against his rain-soaked clothes, 
 he seemed a figure of doom, as if the 
 misery, cold and death rampant there 
 had taken human form and entered, 
 crying in hoarse accents: 
 
 "Platt's Peak Colliery!" 
 
 Anne's dreaming fell from her like a 
 cloak shrugged from uneasy shoulders 
 and she sprang up, her face bright with 
 sudden energy. 
 
 On Dr. Ericsson's arm she plunged 
 through the black night to the railway 
 station. This was little more than a 
 shed over a flooring and supported by 
 begrimed posts. It was dark save for 
 the yellow rays from a small window 
 opening into a box-like house where two 
 telegraph operators sat, the beat of the 
 machines stealing out to the shadow 
 like the clucking of a tongue. 
 
 A man stood looking in. When he 
 swung around, Anne found herself face 
 to face with Donald Sefain. They had 
 seen each other constantly without rec- 
 ognition and without exchanging a 
 word. The meeting there under the
 
 60 A Circle in the Sand. 
 
 circumstances was a trifle perplexing. 
 Donald's expression was almost forbid- 
 ding as he awkwardly pulled off his 
 cap. 
 
 " Miss Garrick, I believe ? " 
 
 " How are you, Donald ? " cried Dr. 
 Ericsson, stepping into the light. " I 
 haven't seen you for an age." And he 
 seized him by the shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, Pm all right! " he said indiffer- 
 ently. " You'll have to walk to the 
 hotel. The cab service is very defi- 
 cient here. We've all got to live like 
 paupers whether we like it or not." 
 
 He hurried ahead, the effort of being 
 conventionally polite evidently a new 
 role. 
 
 " I'll show you the way," he said 
 brusquely. 
 
 " I say, Donald," and Dr. Ericsson's 
 tone was just as genial as when he had 
 first spoken, " are things very bad?" 
 
 Donald's stormy eyes flashed from 
 beneath the rim of his cap. His tone 
 was almost insolent. 
 
 " Hell is loose here," he said.
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 IT was a dark morning and Dr. 
 Ericsson's mood matched it. He 
 had rheumatism. It had rained for 
 three days, was still raining, and they 
 had again given him fried bread for 
 breakfast. 
 
 " Thank God, sunshine and laughter 
 are in the world somewhere! It is well 
 to remember that here," he said, pok- 
 ing the fire furiously. 
 
 Anne stood near him, drawing on a 
 pair of loose dogskin gloves. A fur cap 
 fitted like a bandage above her troubled 
 eyes. 
 
 "Tuck me in, Anne dear. Then 
 look out, like a good girl, and see if 
 there's a break in the dirty sky." 
 
 She swept the rag of curtain aside 
 and gazed on the marvels of desolation 
 before her. The hotel was on one of 
 
 61
 
 62 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the highest hills, and she could see 
 mountains of coal waste looming black 
 in the mist; rivers like ink flowing 
 beneath gaunt bridges; vast hollows of 
 moist, shrunken land above the mines 
 spreading like emptied arteries beneath 
 the surface; houses, as if shaken by 
 palsy, leaning sideways upon erratic 
 foundations; and over all a light rain 
 driven by a wind from the east. 
 
 " The sky is as dull as ever," said 
 Anne, still standing with the curtain 
 in her hand, and she added in a vehe- 
 ment whisper: " It's all wrong, uncle. 
 There's something horribly wrong with 
 the world." 
 
 " Have you just found that out? " 
 " Last night as we came home from 
 the funeral of the man ' Red ' Evans 
 killed " her voice trembled " it 
 came to me what these people are. 
 They are the moving, untombed 
 dead. The starving men guarding the 
 black pits, the women, nothing but 
 child-bearing blocks, the picker boys 
 with their undersized, ghastly bodies,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 63 
 
 have dead souls, uncle, quite, quite 
 dead." 
 
 " Don't look so tragic, my dear. One 
 comfort they don't know how really 
 badly off they are; brought up to it, 
 you see." 
 
 " I know it," the curtain slipped 
 from Anne's fingers, " but that's what 
 makes me fairly sick when I think of it 
 their apathy, their stolid acceptance 
 of all. They don't crave anything ex- 
 cept enough food to keep them quiet, 
 and they can't get that. Then one of 
 them grows frantic and the rest follow. 
 Only now and then there's a ' Red ' 
 Evans who has hate enough in him to 
 kill the insulting despot who ruined his 
 daughter, and who has been crushing 
 and cheating him for years. He went 
 mad, and now the law is loose hunting 
 for ' Red ' Evans as terriers hunt for a 
 rat. If they find him they'll hang him ; 
 and this is justice, of course. But why 
 need i Red ' Evans ever have become 
 what he was? Why? It's such a big, 
 terrible question."
 
 64 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 Dr. Ericsson caught her hand and 
 kissed it. 
 
 " You should have put an iron casing 
 round those too ready sympathies of 
 yours, Anne, before you came here. 
 We'll have a very hard time of it if we 
 try to change conditions which have al- 
 ways been," he said mildly. " Besides, 
 I've come to the conclusion myself, for 
 my own satisfaction, that the small 
 things of life are inevitably balanced 
 here; so life in total, with all its oppo- 
 sitions and wrongs, must be as evenly 
 balanced somewhere else. What are 
 your plans for to-day? I wish I could 
 go with you and Sefain. Confound 
 this uncertain leg of mine!" 
 
 " I'm first going with money to ' Red' 
 Evans' sister," said Anne, seating her- 
 self on the arm of his chair and opening 
 her notebook. " Then I want to see the 
 interior of a mine, if it's possible. I'd 
 like to get an idea of the graves where 
 these men spend their days. To-night 
 I must get a long ' special ' ready." 
 
 " Sefain must go with you every-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 65 
 
 where. Don't forget that. Good-by, 
 my dear. Don't fret over what can't 
 be helped. Remember all workers are 
 not like these. Think of niggers sing- 
 ing in a lily-field! Ah, I wish I were 
 there now! " 
 
 Anne hurried down the stairs and 
 found Donald waiting for her with a 
 venerable carriage. He did not see 
 her as she came up to him. Standing 
 just outside the doorway, an Inverness 
 cape flapping around him, he was 
 sketching in the salient points of a 
 noisy group across the road. One man 
 stood on a barrel, his arms held up, 
 while in howls he called on the others 
 to resist. Around him were a score of 
 men, Huns, Poles, with a smaller 
 mixture of Irish and English, their 
 working jeans discarded for antique and 
 yellowed broadcloth. They were all 
 stupidly listening without sign of an- 
 swering spirit, their faces showing that 
 they were hungry and shivering. 
 
 Donald was never fully aroused 
 except when he worked. His brown,
 
 66 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 nervous fingers held the book intently, 
 his eyes flashed keenly from the page 
 to the men, but his dark face looked 
 pinched in the raw morning. His air 
 was frankly dissolute. 
 
 When Anne spoke to him, the smile 
 of which he always seemed ashamed 
 made his face attractive for a second 
 before it settled again into the usual 
 ungracious quiet. 
 
 The horse went at a crawling pace 
 over the hills and across swampy land, 
 and they talked of the work for the 
 paper as if they were two men. No 
 personalities were touched upon. There 
 was nothing to brighten the drive, and 
 after a long distance covered in the face 
 of a mist that made Anne's cheeks like 
 pale, wet roses they stopped before the 
 house where " Red " Evans had lived. 
 
 The clamor following disgrace sur- 
 rounded it. Women bowed by the 
 malformations of toil and years stood 
 shoulder to shoulder with idle men, all 
 talking loudly, their eyes fastened upon 
 the sulphur-hued cottage, whose under
 
 A Circle in the Sand 67 
 
 story, from the trembling of the tun- 
 nelled land, had been shot out like a 
 hag's jaw. 
 
 " She's in there," said Donald. " They 
 say she's like a crazy woman. I'll go 
 in with you." 
 
 He tied the horse to a post and 
 shielded Anne through the curious 
 crowd. After some imperative knock- 
 ing and promises of help to the woman 
 shrieking abuse from within, the door 
 was guardedly opened, and they stood 
 before ' Red " Evans' sister. 
 
 Anne shuddered at the face. The 
 forces in a soul that damn seemed to 
 have set fire to all the softness in the 
 woman and left their flames blazing in 
 her hollow eyes. With lank, gray hair 
 falling to her shoulders, and veined 
 hands clinched at her sides, she stood at 
 bay in the desolate room, bitten through 
 with grief, an epitome of hatred, famine, 
 and fear. Unnoticed, Donald swiftly 
 made a sketch of her and at a sign from 
 Anne slipped out, leaving her to her 
 difficult task.
 
 68 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 In the warmth of her sympathy and 
 gratitude for the visible help she 
 brought, the beast in the sufferer was 
 conquered, and with wild weeping she 
 told the story of her life. She had 
 been born on a sheep farm in Scotland 
 near a river winding through a valley ; 
 and had left it to come to her brother 
 when his wife died. Anne saw the lost 
 home plainly as the homely sentences 
 sketched it a place of perfume, light, 
 and healthy sleep; she realized the 
 gloomy change to this black valley 
 with "Red" Evans, the morbid slave; 
 his daughter, pretty and wild, ready to 
 sell her soul for a trinket and at length 
 flying away in shame; and the younger 
 son, Joe, a picker boy, choked with 
 miner's asthma. 
 
 " An' ye'll write what I tell ye, miss. 
 Ye'll spek the truth. Ye'll belike mek 
 people a bit sorry. Aye, aye," she said, 
 nodding at the dead ashes on the hearth, 
 " ye'll say our hearts are breakin', that 
 shame and hunger's eno' to mek men 
 distraught; but, ah, miss, ye won't mek
 
 A Circle in the Sand 69 
 
 'em feel it; ye can't mek 'em feel it! 
 I'd ha' to tek my heart out and put it 
 inside ye before ye could know what I 
 do, an' what I canna tell ye, miss." 
 
 Anne could not utter one of the com- 
 forting, philosophical things she had 
 fancied at her command. She let her 
 hand rest for an instant on the forehead 
 where care had set a skein of tangled 
 lines, gave a circular glance in the 
 hopeless room, and went out, her heart 
 affrighted. 
 
 Donald was not among the crowd, 
 but she went on, expecting him to join 
 her. He did not appear, and soon she 
 found herself close to the mine around 
 which the straggling village was built. 
 
 Before her stood the high, coal-black- 
 ened building similar to a wooden light- 
 house, which miners call a breaker. 
 She knew when the mines were work- 
 ing big cars were impelled up to this 
 height from the fastnesses of the earth, 
 that there the coal was broken, sorted, 
 and sent down through iron grooves to 
 waiting cars. A feeling of curiosity im-
 
 70 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 pelled her to go up. It would be strange 
 to stand in a high breaker, look out on 
 a level with the hills, fancy the riven 
 coal leaping down the rafters, and there 
 write her notes of the morning. 
 
 Passing the silent engine-houses and 
 empty furnaces, she went up the steep 
 ladders to the top. On the last step 
 she paused, made suddenly aware that 
 the breaker was tenanted. Donald was 
 sketching some one. Moving to one 
 side, unseen, she saw that the model 
 was little Joe Evans, the murderer's son. 
 He had assumed his working position 
 beside an empty shoot, his head low- 
 ered, his hand extended, as if picking 
 the refuse from the sliding coal. He 
 had evidently digested the fact that his 
 picture was being made for a newspa- 
 per, for there was exaltation in his 
 face. Hidden in the shadow, Anne 
 leaned against one of the posts and 
 watched. 
 
 " The air must be filled with dust 
 when the coal comes tumbling down 
 before you," Donald was saying, and
 
 A Circle in the Sand 71 
 
 he whistled softly as he waited for a 
 reply. 
 
 " It's that what gives us the asthma," 
 said Joe, backing up his words by a 
 most awful cough. 
 
 " Got anything on under that rag 
 of a coat?" asked Donald cheerfully. 
 "Let's see." 
 
 The child's blue pallor went crim- 
 son, but in a half fearful way he 
 opened the jacket and bared his puny 
 chest. 
 
 "All right," Donald nodded. "I 
 wanted to know; that's all." And he 
 commenced whistling softly, while 
 Anne's heart grew hot. This was ar- 
 tistic savagery run amuck. 
 
 " How old are you, Joe ? " 
 
 "Nine." 
 
 " What do you think of all day as 
 you sit picking the slate from the 
 coal?" 
 
 "Nuthin'I" His violet eyes were 
 vapid wells between grimy lashes. 
 
 " Do you know what the sea is, 
 Joe?"
 
 72 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 He shook his head negatively with- 
 out any interest. 
 
 " The great shining sea where ships 
 sail never saw that, Joe ? Just turn 
 your head a little the other way so. 
 Often hungry, I suppose ? " 
 
 Joe smiled wanly as if at a jest. 
 There was no need to affirm a self- 
 evident truth. 
 
 " The coal rushing down the shoot 
 without a moment of rest must make 
 your head ache, I should think ? " 
 
 Joe forgot about the proper angle 
 for showing off his knife-blade chin 
 and drawn eyelid. He dropped his 
 head to his scrap of a hand orna- 
 mented by knuckles and nails beyond 
 redemption. His eyes looked up with 
 unquestioning patience. 
 
 " It always aches. It's achin' now." 
 
 A sigh came from the dry mouth, 
 and it had the effect of a clarion call 
 on Donald. The apathy went from 
 him. He flung his book to the floor. 
 His face was twitching. His eyes 
 burned.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 73 
 
 " My God, child, how terrible you 
 are! " Kneeling, he brought his face 
 to a level with Joe's, his hands grasp- 
 ing the boy's shoulders. 
 
 " Don't be afraid, Joe. Don't cry. 
 I'm not mad," he said, a sob creeping 
 between his set teeth. " Oh, you poor 
 little chap, you sad-eyed little slave! 
 Oh, hungry and sick and old, and only 
 nine, picking the coal the whole day 
 through, thinking of nothing and 
 breathing death! Joe! Joe! Where is 
 your God and mine, that a child like 
 you exists under the sky?" 
 
 Fascinated, shrinking, Joe looked 
 into his eyes and said nothing. Anne 
 could hear her heart in the stillness, 
 her eyes fastened first on Donald's dis- 
 carded sketch-book, then on his kneel- 
 ing figure. 
 
 "Joe," he said, after a long silence, 
 and now his voice was quiet, " some- 
 thing wonderful is going to happen to 
 you, something better than your starved 
 mind can understand. I'm going to 
 take you to a great big city with me.
 
 74 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 I'm going to give you good things to 
 eat, better than anything you ever 
 tasted, warm clothes, too," he said, 
 slipping his hand through the broken 
 jacket and laying it on Joe's flesh. 
 "You shall see the sea and everything 
 that boys love. Oh, I've never loved 
 anything, but I'll love you! You'll be 
 a happy boy yet, if it's not too late " 
 he groaned defiantly " if it's not too 
 late. Oh, you poor little baby, with 
 your terribly wise eyes, will you come 
 with me? Joe, will you?" 
 
 Anne made her way down the shak- 
 ing ladders without being heard. Her 
 swollen heart seemed crowding her 
 throat. She stood in the chilling rain, 
 quivering with excitement. She had 
 had her first glimpse into Donald's 
 soul, and it had terrified her. 
 
 It was still early when they returned 
 for lunch to the hotel. Joe, stunned 
 into silence and with round eyes, ac- 
 companied them. 
 
 " I'm going to adopt him," was all 
 the explanation of his presence Donald
 
 A Circle in the Sand 75 
 
 had given. He was again as unread- 
 able as a mollusk, and Anne could 
 almost believe the scene in the breaker 
 had been of her imagining. 
 
 Hours afterward, as she sat in the 
 rainy dusk writing an impassioned ac- 
 count of the day, a faint knock sounded 
 on her door. Donald stood outside, 
 very pale, an unusual eagerness in his 
 manner. 
 
 u If you want to see what a mine 
 looks like, Miss Garrick, this will be 
 your only chance. The sheriff and his 
 men have come over with militia, and for 
 the past hour the engines have been 
 going, pumping down air, you know. 
 They think that perhaps ' Red ' Evans 
 is hiding there." 
 
 " But could he? How could he get 
 down if the cage wasn't working ? " 
 
 " You see, besides the cage there's an 
 iron bar a sort of ladder with flat 
 prongs laid upon it, the whole only half 
 a yard wide. This goes down through 
 a separate opening. It's put there as a 
 precaution in case of explosions or in-
 
 76 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 jury to the cage, but it's a matter of life 
 and death to use it. A desperate man, 
 however, wouldn't hesitate to take the 
 one chance. The sheriff fancies 'Red' 
 Evans may be clinging to the bar a 
 good way down beyond sight, yet not 
 too far from the air. I don't believe it. 
 It's almost absurd. But they're going 
 down and will take us along." 
 
 "All right," said Anne. "But I 
 won't tell Dr. Ericsson. He might be 
 
 nervous." 
 
 Twenty minutes later they were 
 again at the mine. The scene was 
 animated now. Lanterns like the eyes 
 of grotesque animals shot from one point 
 to another in the falling night. A line 
 of soldiers controlled the swell of the 
 mountain, and, above, the strikers with 
 their families sullenly watched. From 
 wooden sheds came the braying of 
 mules. Four men stood near the 
 cage, which resembled a huge brass 
 boiler with a round opening for air 
 at a man's height. The hissing and 
 throbbing of engines and the sound
 
 A Circle in the Sand 77 
 
 of many voices filled the valley with 
 life. 
 
 Anne's fingers were unsteady as she 
 put on the miner's protecting outfit. 
 This was a rubber blouse to her knees 
 and a wide-brimmed glazed hat, a little 
 oil lamp flickering in front just above 
 the brim. 
 
 " Ready ! " said the sheriff, and the 
 wire rope throbbed. 
 
 The cage shot down with tremendous 
 speed. The lamps on the hats flared 
 in the gust through the circular open- 
 ing in the wall. It was a breathless, 
 anxious descent. Anne closed her eyes 
 and stood like one in a trance until 
 the journey was completed. 
 
 When by Donald's side she stepped 
 into the underworld, an overwhelming 
 depression seized her. She had not 
 dreamed how the knowledge of being 
 two thousand feet beneath the ground 
 she trod so lightly could chill a heart. 
 The rank, moist place smelled of death. 
 She gazed at the jagged ceiling of 
 coal upheld by tremendous tree-trunks
 
 78 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 placed at regular distances and forming 
 a rude aisle, the fungi on props and 
 beams, the green pools in every de- 
 pression, the empty mule-carts and 
 discarded picks. Just where the hat- 
 lamps flung their beams there was 
 light, and beyond lay appalling mys- 
 tery. 
 
 "You'd better sit on this knoll;" 
 and Donald, circling his lantern over 
 his head, showed her the up-hill recesses 
 of a vast, worked-out chamber. "I'll 
 go with the men down this gangway a 
 bit. We'll not be far away. See, 
 they're looking in the mule-carts. I'd 
 like to be on the spot if they get him. 
 I want his face." 
 
 " I'll be alone here ! " was Anne's in- 
 ward exclamation. " You won't be 
 long," was what she said, and sat down 
 apparently calm. 
 
 " We're just going down this gang- 
 way." And Donald turned away, his 
 fingers tingling to sketch her as she sat 
 there, the light flaring above her eyes. 
 
 Ten minutes passed. Anne saw
 
 A Circle in the Sand 79 
 
 the men entering the various hewn 
 chambers, plunging their lanterns into 
 clumsy carts, leaping into pits. Her 
 heart seemed to have ceased beating. 
 She found herself waiting for a cry of 
 triumph and fancied the searchers drag- 
 ging out a struggling, stormy-browed 
 figure, the murderer at bay. 
 
 Then an unlooked-for thing happened. 
 Without warning the moving throng of 
 figures turned a corner, and she was 
 alone, in silence save for the dropping 
 of water, in darkness save for the light 
 upon her hat. She seemed to become 
 stone surrounded by an atmosphere of 
 horror. 
 
 This paralyzing spell broke, and her 
 blood crept in cold currents around her 
 spine, for up in the black hollow behind 
 her she heard a quick breath, then 
 another, and a piece of coal tinkled 
 down the declivity to her feet. The 
 breathing came closer. It was just 
 behind her now. There was a step, 
 and she knew a horror unnamable 
 stood at her back. She did not turn or
 
 8o A Circle in the Sand 
 
 move the stiff fingers clasping her knee, 
 or flicker an eyelid. 
 
 She was roused from the weight of 
 terror by a sight to haunt her while she 
 lived. A man grovelled before her, his 
 supplicating clutch upon her knee. The 
 uncertain flame of her lamp flung blue 
 splashes into the hollows of his face. 
 His red hair was glued to his throat. 
 The red-streaked flannel shirt was open 
 to the waist, showing his hairy chest. 
 Mildew and coal-black covered him. 
 There was a mortal hunger in his 
 glance. She was gazing at " Red " 
 Evans and he was praying for his life 
 but praying was a mild word for the 
 spurting whispers from his gaping 
 mouth as his eyes shot from right to 
 left in fear of the returning hunters. 
 
 "Didn't set out for to kill Binkley, 
 as God hears me, miss. No, 'twas fair 
 fight, an he druv me mad. I flung the 
 stone. I didn't believe him dead till he 
 fell back, wi' the blood bubblin' from 
 him. I been hidin' here for two days, 
 starvin' on that ladder, 'tween earth
 
 A Circle in the Sand 81 
 
 and hell; crawled down when the en- 
 gines begun to work; been lyin' on my 
 face up here ever sence. They'll hang 
 me. Don't let 'em. Help me. I've 
 had a hard life eno' 'thout hangin' at the 
 end o't. Oh," and the word was a long 
 shudder, "my God, for one chance! I 
 never had noan. One chance one! " 
 
 It seemed to Anne as if a great length 
 of time had passed, as if herself and her 
 life were myths, and nothing in all the 
 world was as positive as this man's 
 misery and his claim. She sat motion- 
 less with strained, bright eyes. 
 
 He had taken another's life, it was 
 clear. She was a newspaper woman, 
 face to face with an important opportu- 
 nity. If she gave the murderer to his 
 pursuers, the " Citizen " would have 
 gained a story unshared by its rivals. 
 As a newspaper woman she should 
 make the most of this moment. She 
 hesitated. The man's eyes looked up 
 at her like a famished dog's. As a 
 newspaper woman, yes; but as a 
 woman, no.
 
 82 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 She sprang up, fired by the desire to 
 save him. His eyes were terrible as 
 he crouched in the slime at her feet. 
 He had suffered enough. 
 
 " Come along," she said, her voice 
 harsh with fear as a man's laugh dis- 
 tantly awakened echoes in the caverns. 
 " They've already searched the mule- 
 carts. Climb into this one. They 
 won't look again. Lie down low so. 
 I'll put my cloak over you. Try to 
 breathe more softly. Hush! They're 
 coming." 
 
 Donald hurried toward her first, and 
 found her sitting where he had left 
 her. 
 
 " Wagner said he'd come back and 
 stay near you," he said hurriedly, as he 
 wiped his brow. " I've just found out 
 that he sneaked on, the little beast." 
 
 " Did you find any trace of Evans ? " 
 she managed to ask. 
 
 " No, he's not here. They might 
 have known that. You're shivering. 
 Why, where's your cloak ? " 
 
 " Say nothing about that," she said
 
 A Circle in the Sand 83 
 
 in sudden fear, springing up. " Manage 
 to have the others go up first. I'll ex- 
 plain after. They must go up first. 
 Leave me here." 
 
 The cage had been very crowded 
 coming down, and when every worked 
 out recess had been searched the men 
 were glad to let the newspaper people 
 wait for a second trip. 
 
 " Well, that's settled," Anne heard a 
 man say, his throaty tones inflated with 
 satisfaction. " He ain't in the mine, he 
 ain't on the ladder, and damn him wher- 
 ever he is." 
 
 The cage leaped beyond her sight. 
 Donald, with the ineffectual light mak- 
 ing big shadows leap around him, came 
 down the alley and stood before her. 
 He knew some disclosure was trem- 
 bling on her lips. 
 
 " We're alone now," he said. " You 
 look awful. Take a little." 
 
 He held out a flask of whiskey, and 
 Anne greedily swallowed a mouthful. 
 It revived her and made her brave 
 again. She listened to the creaking of
 
 84 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the wire ropes, but instead of fear her 
 eyes flashed with determination. 
 
 " I'm going to trust you, Donald Se- 
 fain," she said slowly, rising and touch- 
 ing his arm. " Yes, I'm going to trust 
 you. I believe in your pity and your 
 honor." 
 
 His eyes answered her; he held his 
 breath. 
 
 " I know where i Red ' Evans is," 
 she said. " He's near us, hidden under 
 my cloak. He begged his life oh, 
 how he begged it! and I couldn't give 
 him up. He prayed for one chance. 
 I'll give it to him. Will you?" 
 
 Anne pressed her hands upon his 
 shoulders, the divinity of a mediator in 
 her eyes. 
 
 A flood of feeling trickled over 
 Donald's heart, something never felt 
 before; it was like a fire loosening some 
 callous growth, and seeming by a mir- 
 acle to turn it to sunshine within him. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he said, the perplexing 
 joy still controlling him. " What can 
 we do?"
 
 A Circle in the Sand 85 
 
 " There's only one way ' Red ' Evans 
 can escape," she continued rapidly. 
 " I've money with me. I'll give it to 
 him. But that doesn't help matters 
 while he's hidden here. The only way 
 he can leave the mine unquestioned is 
 by putting on your blouse and hat, and 
 taking your place when I go up. Once 
 he's freed, I'll return for you. This 
 is my plan to pretend I lost some 
 money and come back with these 
 things I wear secreted under my own 
 cloak for you, to slip them to you, 
 have you put them on, step out un- 
 noticed and join the searchers for the 
 money. It will be easy enough. 
 We're all of a pattern in these things, 
 and with the collar up and one's face 
 turned away they make a good dis- 
 guise. But should there be any com- 
 ment you'd have to insist that you 
 came down with me the second time. 
 Are you willing? Will you risk it? 
 I promise to return for you." 
 
 In answer Donald took off the long 
 blouse and hat and saw Anne's eyes
 
 86 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 darken with gratitude. She pointed 
 to the mule-cart. 
 
 " He's there, and you'll need to give 
 him some whiskey, he's so weak." 
 
 After putting out the light upon his 
 hat, which had begun to flicker, Donald 
 stepped across an oozing stream and 
 leaned over the cart. 
 
 "Evans! Evans! Look up! Here's 
 your chance. This hat and blouse " 
 He broke off abruptly. " Why doesn't 
 he answer?" 
 
 He bent nearer and touched the head 
 arid face of the hidden man. 
 
 " Oh, if he's fainted how can we save 
 him? There isn't a moment," whis- 
 pered Anne, in a frenzy of fear. 
 
 Donald climbed into the mule-cart 
 and plunged down. 
 
 "He's dead!" 
 
 The words rang out. The echoes 
 carried them and played with them. 
 No need of plans, sacrifice, danger. 
 Freedom and the hangman were alike 
 impossible and indifferent to " Red " 
 Evans now.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 87 
 
 Anne saw Donald's face lifted, 
 touched by the awe always follow- 
 ing the wake of the great mystery, 
 but only for a few seconds before her 
 lamp went out with a long leap, as if 
 protesting against some new uncanny 
 presence, and they were in darkness 
 with the dead. 
 
 Anne sank down, her folded arms 
 resting against a wet wall. Everything 
 seemed to slip into a mist; she felt 
 numbed, vanquished, when, like a prom- 
 ise of good, Donald's groping hand 
 sought hers and held it firmly. They 
 did not speak. It was a burden even to 
 think of the horrors surrounding them 
 the masses of coal not far above their 
 heads, creaking like a lazy monster 
 settling itself, the whimpering of flying 
 rats, and the knowledge that beside 
 them lay a dead man, a look of affright 
 on his face. 
 
 After a while it became evident that 
 something delayed the return of the 
 cage. Hours seemed to crawl by as 
 they sat there, hand in hand, scarcely
 
 88 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 speaking until it became imperative to 
 talk and let sound trouble the black pall 
 dividing and overhanging them. 
 
 Then something happened that seemed 
 to Anne beyond belief. Donald in hesi- 
 tating tones began speaking of himself. 
 To see the lips of the Sphinx melt into 
 a smile could scarcely have been more 
 astounding to her. She listened, under- 
 standing how the sights and sounds of 
 that terrible day and the intimate hand- 
 clasp in the blackness had aroused the 
 inner self he so consistently silenced. 
 
 Her heart smarted for him as she 
 heard the halting story of his childhood. 
 She could see him left orphaned, under 
 an unfriendly roof, no natural love ex- 
 cusing his faults, loneliness eating into 
 him. Loneliness! It was the word on 
 which his life had reared its twisted 
 structure. 
 
 In words that burned he sketched the 
 difference between David's place and 
 his in John Temple's house David, 
 secretly loved by him always and bit- 
 terly envied; David, the figure in the
 
 A Circle in the Sand 89 
 
 white light which he might adore, but 
 never follow. He told her how man- 
 hood came and the bitter knowledge of 
 all. He was despised, superfluous, and 
 the determination took root to fulfil the 
 promise of his dark origin, to sink to 
 the level considered fitting. 
 
 A stronger nature would have 
 doggedly risen, no doubt. But the 
 other was easy, natural, and had not 
 been without joy. The poor, the un- 
 happy like himself, had understood and 
 loved him. For the rest he had grown 
 content to tear principles to rags, revel 
 in the mud, live for the moment, and go 
 with flags flying to ruin and death. 
 
 " Why didn't you try to do well ? " 
 Anne asked urgently. 
 
 " I was afraid," he said, in a lifeless 
 tone. " I thought it wouldn't do for me 
 with the inherited tendencies of which 
 I was so constantly reminded. Besides, 
 no one cared. That was it. It's all 
 well enough to talk of doing right, but 
 when your instinct leads you to the 
 wrong and there's not a soul on earth
 
 90 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 to care a pin if you're fished out of the 
 river, a boy at least most boys 
 would get into an easy stride on the 
 wrong road." 
 
 " No, you needn't have gone," she 
 said passionately. 
 
 " I'm not trying to excuse myself." 
 " But you're not hopeless, are you ? " 
 " I don't know," he said slowly. " I 
 ought to be. I have been. But to- 
 night, somehow, I wish I could begin 
 over again." 
 
 He heard a sob. All Anne had felt 
 during the trying day and the pathos of 
 this confidence had touched her beyond 
 endurance. She wept unrestrainedly 
 from a full heart. She could not see 
 Donald's eyes nor how they grew intent 
 and unbelieving. It seemed impossible 
 that he should hear a woman's sobs for 
 him, tears for him. They were terrible 
 and racked him, but they were sweet 
 too. 
 
 Before he could fully accept the won- 
 derful occurrence as true, and before 
 Anne could control herself to speak,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 91 
 
 the grating of the wire ropes in the shaft 
 cautiously commenced. 
 
 A light sprang into Donald's face, 
 and despite the opposing forces tearing 
 him like teeth he pressed her hand and 
 said, in a whisper that was slow and 
 difficult: 
 
 " If I do make anything of myself, if 
 I ever do, it won't be because it's right, 
 nor for society, nor even for shame of 
 what I am, but because you care. Say 
 that you do." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I care. Indeed 
 indeed I do!" 
 
 When they entered the cage, Anne's 
 tear-swollen face needed no explanation. 
 To have been kept in a mine for an 
 hour without a light because part of the 
 machinery had slipped its groove, and 
 to have chanced upon " Red " Evans, 
 dead, was enough to unnerve any 
 woman. 
 
 Only Anne and Donald ever knew 
 the truth of that hour. They stepped 
 into the night and saw the moon filling 
 the place with phosphoric light, making
 
 92 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 a glory of the drenched earth. More 
 marvellous than this white atmosphere 
 of peace after the stormy day, was the 
 friendship which had put forth sudden 
 flower in silence and night.
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 AFTER three weeks among the 
 mines, Anne returned to New 
 York. She had left the city frowning 
 under fogs: it greeted her home-com- 
 ing with a cold sky as blue as in sum- 
 mer, the peace of freshly fallen snow, 
 and the glint of icicles in a vivid sun- 
 light. 
 
 After luncheon as she prepared for 
 her first visit to the office, everything 
 was forgotten but the thought of seeing 
 David again. He would greet her as a 
 friend returning: she would regard him 
 with a new vision, the knowledge of 
 her love, a secret to be sternly kept. 
 
 When she walked from the elevator 
 to the editorial rooms, she was pale, 
 expectant, her heart stirring with a 
 nervous excitement. Never before had 
 she crossed that hall, subdued by this 
 
 93
 
 94 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 uncertainty and joy, nor opened the 
 door, wishing, yet dreading, to hear 
 David Temple's voice. 
 
 The first circuitous glance told her 
 he was not there, nor in his private 
 room beyond, for the door stood open. 
 But the scarred man was in evidence 
 and vaulted over his desk to meet her, 
 the news editor took the trouble to wipe 
 his hands on a blotter before greeting 
 her, and the dramatic critic, who didn't 
 like women anywhere, and hated them 
 in a newspaper office, blew his nose 
 nervously. Donald Sefain alone at his 
 desk, with frowning brow, looked at her 
 once and looked down, white to the 
 lips. 
 
 Jack Braidley swung in, the tall hat 
 he wore on all occasions pushed far 
 back, half a dozen actresses' photo- 
 graphs protruding from his pocket. In 
 his excitement at seeing Anne he 
 dropped the best cigar he had borrowed 
 that day, and rushed forward to seize 
 her hand. 
 
 But he had to make room for Pete,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 95 
 
 who danced a hornpipe on a desk, hav- 
 ing left the sporting editor's side while 
 the promise of a tip on the coming 
 prize-fight trembled on his lips. 
 
 Anne patted Pete's bitten, dirty hand, 
 thrust impulsively into hers, then looked 
 over at Donald. He was bending 
 above a sketch, and she was struck 
 by the contrast between his sunken 
 cheeks and the faces of the men around 
 her. 
 
 As if doing a most usual thing, she 
 walked past the little group to his desk. 
 She could feel the consternation of the 
 watchers as she bent over, facing the 
 worker, her back to the rest. 
 
 " You've not spoken to me," and the 
 smile upon the lifted, crimson lip was a 
 frank invitation to good-fellowship. 
 
 The blood rushed to Donald's face, 
 his eyes fell. A glance over her 
 shoulder at the men he had always 
 striven to antagonize was sufficient to 
 bring the old gloom to his eyes, the 
 defiance to his manner. 
 
 "You're very kind," he said coldly;
 
 96 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " but I'm used to being ignored. In 
 fact, I prefer it." 
 
 Anne regarded him thoughtfully and 
 read him aright. He hesitated, he was 
 not sure of her, of himself. Habitude 
 had become a garment fitting like 
 another skin; it was a risk to discard it, 
 for, hateful though it might appear, there 
 was shelter in its folds. But she was 
 not to be so easily put aside. 
 
 " I'm going to annoy you, neverthe- 
 less," she said coolly. " You want to 
 break our pretty compact. Well, I'm 
 not going to let you. I can be persist- 
 ent, Mr. Sefain. I can be intensely dis- 
 agreeable. But most people end in 
 liking me, and so shall you. Hereafter 
 we are to be friends. You said so. 
 Come, shake hands." 
 
 Challenge and entreaty were in her 
 eyes. Donald hesitated only a second. 
 His hand touched hers. Obeying an un- 
 controllable impulse he beat back the 
 painful reserve tempting him to be un- 
 gracious, and pressed the slender fingers 
 painfully. It was more than the most
 
 A Circle in the Sand 97 
 
 eloquent acknowledgment of her power 
 from another man. In the garish sun- 
 light of this prosaic, dusty place, the 
 words spoken in the lonely mine had 
 been ratified by that handclasp, and 
 Donald had assumed a new, important 
 interest in the eyes of his companions. 
 
 At five o'clock Anne left the office. 
 It was a winter evening to fill the mind 
 with light, the heart with hope. The 
 gloom of the mines had lain heavily 
 upon her, their horrors had dragged 
 her heart-strings, but in this cold, white 
 world, as she moved among the quick- 
 stepping throng, she tingled again with 
 the joy of living. 
 
 Instead of going home, she took the 
 car as far as Madison square. When 
 she alighted and looked around she felt 
 as if moving with a thousand others in 
 a magical place. People met here in 
 converging streams and poured away in 
 every direction, touched by the long 
 lances of spectral brilliancy coming 
 through riven clouds at the west. 
 Blending with this was the purplish-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 pink lustre of the many electric lights 
 around the snowy square, and the 
 spreading glow from an early-risen 
 moon crossed by a tangle of denuded 
 boughs. 
 
 She went lightly on, touched in pass- 
 ing by all sorts and conditions of peo- 
 ple, and hearing infinitesimal bits of a 
 hundred conversations. She knew that 
 solitude in a vast crowd which can 
 be despair or peace according to one's 
 mood. Then what seemed a marvel- 
 lous thing happened : one came out of 
 the moving mass and spoke her name. 
 It was David Temple, the light from 
 the west on his face. 
 
 " Anne ! " he said gladly, and again 
 " Anne ! " 
 
 The pallor and thinness his illness 
 had left touched her with pity, and this 
 weakness in his strength attracted her 
 powerfully. 
 
 " I'm so glad to see you ! " and he 
 held her hand. 
 
 He turned homeward with her. 
 They went down the broad avenue
 
 A Circle in the Sand 99 
 
 sinking rapidly into shadow. It was a 
 wonderful hour to Anne. The witch- 
 ery of the night was in her blood ; the 
 love growing so silently and strongly 
 within her filled her with sweet trouble. 
 
 Hours afterwards she sat before the 
 fire, thinking of David's every look and 
 word, and in her open hands lay a bunch 
 of violets he had bought for her from 
 an Italian boy. Their breath was a 
 caress, as his voice speaking her name 
 had been. He had never before called 
 her Anne. It must be so he thought of 
 her. 
 
 A sense of joy made her light- 
 headed. She was something to him ! 
 The light in his earnest eyes had told 
 her that ! The world was beautiful. 
 It was good to be alive, young, free, as 
 she was. Sorrow surely was but a 
 word. Hope and love were real, and 
 they were hers. While she lived she 
 would never forget that December 
 evening. It had been a little thing a 
 chance meeting in a crowd, a surprised 
 word, a treasured look, a memory to
 
 ioo A Circle in the Sand 
 
 have a never-dying brilliancy, a jewel 
 connecting links in the chain of events. 
 
 When she put away her dreaming, 
 and sat before the desk to continue on her 
 novel, it was late. The idea of the story 
 had been with her all day ; she had felt 
 herself en rapport with her characters, 
 the glow of creation had seized her as 
 she walked among the crowd on Madi- 
 son square. 
 
 Now her pen lay idle. Fancy re- 
 treated before the personal interests 
 holding her, as the sun, though brill- 
 iantly shining, may be hidden from the 
 gazer by the intervention of one leaf. 
 There was too much of self in every 
 heart-beat, too much of love and the 
 Might Be. The thrilling consciousness 
 of one face barred her entrance to the 
 imagined land. She was so happy she 
 could not write. 
 
 Lingeringly she closed the desk and 
 drew the violets towards her.
 
 Chapter IX 
 
 BY the middle of December even 
 the most careless in the office of 
 the " Citizen " had commented upon the 
 change in Donald Sefain. He was no 
 longer the voluntary recluse, a man 
 parading his vices, eager to be judged 
 by them alone. He had learned to 
 believe in his possibilities. His fettered 
 nature, feeding on all that was rotten, 
 had risen like a dazed, hungry thing 
 following an instinct for better food and 
 freedom. Ambition, a rebellious pris- 
 oner always, had revived in him after he 
 had striven to crucify it. It called to him 
 in the long nights, in his lonely walks, 
 and its voice was somehow Anne's: 
 
 " What have you done with your 
 life?" 
 
 The assertion of his best instincts had 
 left their marks upon the outer man.
 
 IO2 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 His antagonism and gloom had almost 
 vanished; so had his untidiness and air 
 of general dissoluteness. He carried 
 himself better, his clothes were better, 
 and they were worn as if he respected 
 them and himself. 
 
 As his habits mended and his work 
 steadily improved David Temple treated 
 him as a worker whom he prized. A 
 closer degree of intimacy between the 
 two men seemed impossible. They saw 
 each other seldom, save in the office. 
 But Anne was the friend of both. 
 
 David visited her less often than in 
 the summer, his engagements were so 
 many, but every hour he could spare 
 was spent in her pretty, out-of-the-way 
 rooms. He let the social mask fall when 
 with her as with no one else. Any one 
 seeing him pacing up and down her 
 room, a privileged cigar between his 
 fingers, as he indulged in brilliant non- 
 sense, laughing like a boy when he 
 pulled her pet theories to bits as if he 
 blew away loose rose-petals, would 
 scarcely have known him.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 103 
 
 Anne loved these hours with him, 
 and her happiness went with her, ab- 
 sorbing her thoughts to the detriment 
 of the art so dear to her. The pen lay 
 dry upon the sheets of her novel. She 
 no longer struggled against the passion- 
 ate efFacement of self in another's being. 
 She did not torment her heart by look- 
 ing for a growing love in David's eyes. 
 She was content to drift. It was evi- 
 dent to all that he was very fond of her. 
 He sought her familiarly. She knew 
 nothing of his life beyond the small 
 horizon of her own, and feeling an 
 anticipative joy which seemed to melt 
 her future with his, she was content. 
 
 Dr. Ericsson had much to engross 
 him and keep him away. The wild 
 winter weather had brought the usual 
 illnesses, and the Waverly-place house 
 was in chaos, preparing for the arrival 
 of his wife and daughter after an 
 absence of eight years. 
 
 Anne had plenty of leisure, and she 
 gave much of it to Donald Sefain. 
 Between them they made some of those
 
 104 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 winter nights idyls of joy for little Joe 
 Evans. He was very ill. Giving way 
 to rest after inured hardship seemed 
 like giving way to grief, and his weak 
 body collapsed. 
 
 He was in Donald's new home, 
 three small rooms in a street a short 
 distance from the " Citizen." They 
 were cheap apartments, but hopefully 
 clean, presided over by a "lone" 
 woman, Mrs. Mulligan, who lived on 
 the floor beneath. 
 
 Anne often went home with Donald 
 in the swift-falling winter dusks, and 
 stepping from the hall into the firelight, 
 she would feel as if summer had come 
 across the snow and kissed her. The 
 room was always fragrant from a bunch 
 of flowers, the kettle always singing, 
 the lamp shaded. 
 
 "Ah, Joe, dear, if yez had seen me 
 whin I was young! " she had surprised 
 Mrs. Mulligan saying once as she knit- 
 ted beside the pillowed chair where Joe 
 reclined, pale from the languor of un- 
 healthy sleep. " There was a sight for
 
 A Circle in the Sand 105 
 
 ye! The girls of to-day, with their 
 crotched-in bodies and white cheeks 
 stuck to the bone, what are they? 
 Ah, avick, girls were different in moy 
 toime ! Why, I shtud fourteen stone, 
 weighed in me stockings. Me hair 
 shtud out loike eaves on both soides of 
 me head, alanna, 'twas so thick. As 
 fer me cheeks," she added, in a climax of 
 triumph, " they shtuck out loike apples, 
 and were that red ye cud bleed them 
 with a shtraw." 
 
 On nights like these Donald's nature 
 seemed to expand and exult. He sur- 
 prised Anne by his humor, his mocking 
 grace as host, his boyish play with Joe, 
 who adored him. Sometimes when he 
 read aloud after dinner and Mrs. Mul- 
 ligan sat motionless as the Sphinx save 
 for the darting needles, Anne knelt on 
 the floor, her arms around the boy. His 
 feverish mouth would creep close to 
 her ear, and he would tell her how he 
 loved Mr. Sefain, and how he was never 
 to go back to the mines, never. Anne 
 would assure him of this while holding
 
 106 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 him to her and kissing him in a little 
 storm of love, and then her eyes would 
 rove over him, his hands with no more 
 substance than claws, dry and hot, his 
 hungry eyes seeming to hold life like a 
 picture before them in an endeavor to 
 see all quickly before the short day 
 ended. 
 
 It was Donald who showed Anne 
 some of the singular sides of the city's 
 life. 
 
 During this season of pure frost when 
 the electric wires spanning the town 
 were turned into glacial ribbons, and 
 the noise of traffic on the frozen ground 
 was like the clamor from brass, she 
 often found herself treading the nar- 
 row, uphill streets in the lower quarter 
 of the city to see some marvellous 
 " find " of his. 
 
 Once it was an old Russian musician, 
 a political exile. The room they found 
 him in was wretched, but in a corner 
 stood a samovar of copper fit for a 
 prince's table. This and the Amati on 
 the old man's knee were the only visible
 
 A Circle in the Sand 107 
 
 relics of a sumptuous past. Bending 
 over the decaying fire, he had played 
 wild and terrible music for them, which 
 awoke strange fancies. It seemed to 
 whisper of a spirit haunting a familiar 
 but empty house where moonlight 
 streamed through the bare windows ; it 
 shrieked of shipwreck, mumbled of 
 witches dancing in a haggard dawn, 
 prayed for life while the block and the 
 headsman waited. The unsyllabled 
 desolation of the exile's life, it had 
 haunted her for days. 
 
 Although working in the office of a 
 world-known newspaper, she had never 
 seen the wonders of the mechanism used 
 in its construction until one midnight 
 Donald took her to the press-room. 
 There was a weighty but soundless vi- 
 bration as she went down the stone 
 stairs, but when the iron door was 
 pushed back the noise was so tremen- 
 dous it leaped out like a bar and struck 
 her. A gust of air accompanied it which 
 seemed to suck her down the ladder-like 
 stairway against her will, until, dazzled
 
 io8 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 and bewildered, she stood on a little 
 bridge overlooking a plateau of steel 
 that leaped and shivered in gigantic 
 sockets. Bare-chested men like sweat- 
 ing pygmies stood between the big 
 machines, and above them, a monster of 
 many jaws, the roaring presses snapped 
 up the paper. On the first page there 
 was a portrait of a murderer, and this 
 was repeated all over the gas-lit space. 
 On every side the sinister visage with 
 eyes turned obliquely toward her came 
 riding into view, and the glittering 
 clamps seized it, seemed to crush it fu- 
 riously, until, like the stone Sisyphus 
 rolled, it appeared again, and the task 
 was incessantly continued. 
 
 It was Donald who showed her the un- 
 derground restaurants where the news- 
 paper " hacks " plunged in the early 
 morning hours for coffee that was like 
 a fluid blessing. She went with him to 
 all sorts of queer and storied nooks. 
 Once they had tea in a place known only 
 to a few privileged scribblers. This 
 was in a sort of ctd-de-sac, a swinging
 
 A Circle in the Sand 109 
 
 lamp lighting the way up the long alley. 
 Separated from the noise of the town and 
 waited upon by a genial French host and 
 his wife, they had seemed in Paris, for 
 the secretive niche in the crowded street 
 might have strayed from one of Hugo's 
 stories and settled, out of countenance, 
 in a commercial atmosphere. 
 
 Together they went to well-known 
 studios where all was harmony and 
 beauty idols sombrously contempla- 
 tive, mediaeval windows, wood-carving 
 from India and rugs from Damascus. 
 She had watched the last touches put to 
 a landscape, had seen a sculptor make 
 lips of clay smile as if he had called life 
 there. 
 
 Donald had taken her behind the 
 scenes of a theatre, and she had watched 
 the progress of a play from the wings, 
 had gazed with critical eyes and a sense 
 of illusions lost at the mechanism of 
 what had so often enchanted her 
 exits, entrances, cues, and prompter's 
 book. 
 
 And they had read much together
 
 no A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the exquisite prose of Huysmans and 
 Mallarme, Kipling's crushing phrases 
 painting the arid glitter of India, 
 " Tess," bare-armed and fawn-eyed, 
 loving tragically in a setting of clover 
 and dawn mists, the fatalism of the 
 " Rubaiyat," and the wholesome cyni- 
 cism of Thackeray. 
 
 They shared all together as comrades 
 and confidants. The boy in Donald 
 and the piquant school-girl only masked 
 in the woman, clasped hands and 
 laughed.
 
 Chapter X 
 
 ONE morning late in January Anne 
 opened the sheets of the " Citi- 
 zen" and saw this item among the 
 society notes: 
 
 " Among the passengers on the 
 * Teutonic,' which arrived in port last 
 night, were Mrs. Lansius Ericsson and 
 Miss Olga Ericsson. The latter is the 
 latest of our young countrywomen to 
 return to America with a London 
 reputation for beauty." 
 
 Five days later Anne stepped from 
 the grayness of the raw afternoon into 
 Dr. Ericsson's house. Her aunt had 
 been in charge but a little while, yet 
 the old house under her reign possessed 
 what Anne felt it never could have had 
 without her. A maid who was inof- 
 fensive of voice and light of step took 
 up her card, an open fire invited her,
 
 ii2 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the aromatic odor of green things 
 growing in a winter room filled the 
 air, the light was toned to a pale yel- 
 low, as if a sunset had happened pre- 
 maturely. It was evident Mrs. Ericsson 
 had a genius for selecting the salient 
 requisites of an inviting home. 
 
 " Anne Garrick," said a languid voice 
 behind her, " how d'you do?" 
 
 She turned to face the aunt she but 
 faintly remembered, a small, nervous 
 woman, pale-haired, anxious-eyed, so 
 restless she seemed like one half-paus- 
 ing in a hurry before continuing the 
 pursuit of something. 
 
 She gave Anne her pale cheek to kiss, 
 and exclaimed: 
 
 " How like your father! You're a 
 Garrick. You are not a Gerard." 
 
 The inflection was disapproving. 
 Anne felt guilty for not looking like her 
 mother. She began an apology for not 
 having called before, but with amazing 
 irrelevancy Mrs. Ericsson darted for 
 the door. 
 
 " Olga is upstairs. Come up. We've
 
 A Circle in the Sand 113 
 
 been waiting lunch for you for fifteen 
 minutes. It's all right, only with us 
 every moment is of such importance. 
 All the morning Olga has been trying 
 on hats." 
 
 She turned at the top of the stairs, 
 looking like a distracted sparrow. 
 
 " She won't have a hat without a 
 brim. Did you ever hear anything like 
 it? Felice came all the way from Madi- 
 son avenue with ten hats, all close fit- 
 ting, and we begged her to try one. 
 She wouldn't, not if I went on my 
 knees. Olga can be so set! Try and 
 talk her over to a toque. It's simply 
 madness to insist on a brim when no- 
 body is wearing one." 
 
 Again Anne felt like a culprit. The 
 felt-and-feather creation on her head 
 had a brim. It was useless to expect 
 to find favor in her aunt's eyes, since, 
 looking like her father, she came wear- 
 ing a big hat. 
 
 " Here's Anne Garrick at last! " And 
 Mrs. Ericsson entered a big bay-win- 
 dowed room as inviting as fluted Swiss
 
 ii4 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 curtains and pale green appointments 
 could make it. 
 
 A young woman was beside a win- 
 dow, a manicure set spread out on a 
 small table before her, and she was ex- 
 amining a pink nail, much as a jeweller 
 does the springs of a watch. 
 
 "You dear thing! How are you?" 
 she said, going to meet Anne, and they 
 kissed each other. 
 
 " Let me look at you, Olga," said 
 Anne, turning her to the light. " I've 
 heard you are beautiful. Mr. Tinkle, 
 our society editor, saw you at the opera 
 last night and has talked about you all 
 the morning." 
 
 Olga lifted her head lazily in a chal- 
 lenging way and with a purring laugh. 
 
 "Upon my word! Fancy ! " she said, 
 with an English accent, as Anne looked 
 at her. " What do you think ? Am I ? " 
 
 " Yes, you are." 
 
 Few women would have welcomed 
 criticism in that green setting and 
 raw light. The two emphatic qualities 
 of Olga's beauty, etherealness and deli-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 115 
 
 cacy, did not suffer. She was extraor- 
 dinarily white. The skin on supple 
 throat and quiet cheek was of almost 
 silvery pallor. Moonlight seemed 
 bathing her pale blond hair. Her 
 greenish-gray eyes were dreamy, the 
 pupils large ; her upper lip very "short, 
 full, and coral pink. " A moonlight 
 maid," the artists in Paris had called 
 her. There was not a heavy note 
 in her coloring. The blond brilliancy 
 of some Swedish ancestor lived again 
 in her, some " flower of northern 
 snows," and with it the delicate 
 American features of her mother. She 
 was of average height, and, though 
 slight, her body had a delicate robust- 
 ness. She wore a white flannel robe 
 loosely belted, and her hair hung in a 
 plait to her waist. 
 
 " You don't mind my going to the 
 table this way ? I am lazy, but we are 
 en famille" she said, strolling into the 
 hall. " Mamma hates me to do it, but I 
 simply cannot dress for luncheon. I'm 
 as stiff as a German cavalryman all the
 
 n6 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 afternoon and night. I must have a 
 little freedom." 
 
 In the dining-room they found Dr. 
 Ericsson. He drew Anne to him and 
 gave her a bear-like hug. 
 
 " Is this your debut as a family 
 man ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, my second appearance. I'm 
 getting used to the lime-light. I met 
 David Temple coming up town last 
 night and prevailed on him to dine 
 with us." 
 
 " What a charming man he is ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Ericsson, and from the 
 commencement of the meal, with short 
 intervals of rest, Anne was put through 
 a catechism by her aunt about David 
 Temple. Her tongue played between 
 her lips restlessly, while David's posi- 
 tion, money, character, and possible at- 
 tachments were inquired after minutely 
 and with an appraiser's air. When the 
 cross-examination was finished, Anne 
 had a feeling that David had been tick- 
 eted and put away with other ticketed 
 matrimonial possibilities.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 117 
 
 The pauses in this research were 
 filled in by a recital of Olga's past and 
 coming triumphs, what she must and 
 must not do, who was worth her know- 
 ing and who was not. 
 
 Anne was glad to get back to the 
 green and white room, the door closed, 
 and only Olga there, looking at her 
 with amused eyes. 
 
 " Look here, Anne, isn't she har- 
 rowing? Do you wonder how I stand 
 it? There ought to be a law for the 
 suppression of uncongenial relations. 
 Mamma is really impossible." 
 
 She flung herself into a rocker and 
 took one foot into the embrace of her 
 hand. Suddenly she burst out laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " Anne Garrick, you've a very ex- 
 pressive face! You don't envy me, 
 although I'm a beauty and the only 
 daughter of an adoring mother! " 
 
 She took a thin cigarette from a sil- 
 ver box on the table. 
 
 " Have one ? You don't smoke ? 
 You don't know what a comfort it is."
 
 n8 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 "But doesn't your mother object?" 
 asked Anne, making herself comfort- 
 able among a heap of cushions. 
 
 " Of course. What doesn't she object 
 to ? She doesn't want me to eat potatoes 
 lest they make me fat, nor to take cold 
 baths, because they make me blue. 
 She rubs my nose hard every night, 
 because one little pink vein see it? 
 shows. She almost cries when I do 
 my hair high, and takes to her bed if I 
 insist on more than one cup of coffee. 
 I'm not allowed to spend a penny as 
 I please, nor to have an original idea 
 about a gown or hat. In fact, I'm my 
 mother's stock in hand, which she is 
 always polishing, preserving, eying. 
 It's very trying. Shall I tell you how 
 I manage to endure this continual cen- 
 sorship mixed with servile worship 
 for mamma does adore me. A pioneer 
 never regarded a finished cabin, every 
 stick of which had been laid by his own 
 hands, with more satisfaction than she 
 does me. She does not seem to give 
 papa any share in my being at all."
 
 A Circle in the Sand 119 
 
 " I think I know what your tactics 
 are," said Anne, scrutinizing her good- 
 humoredly. " You're very soft and 
 white. You seem to move in an atmos- 
 phere of amiability, but I have not for- 
 gotten your early propensity for sticking 
 pins nor the educated way your little 
 nails could scratch. You could scratch 
 still, Olga, if that were necessary, but 
 you have found a surer means of gain- 
 ing your way." 
 
 " You've hit it. What's the use of 
 continual dispute ? Why worry this one 
 little life out of yourself ? You want 
 your own way take it. Be attentive to 
 all the rules laid down for your con- 
 duct, then ignore them and smile. 
 When you're found out and reproaches 
 are showered on you, think of some- 
 thing else or go to sleep." 
 
 She lighted another cigarette with a 
 ruminative expression and clasped her 
 hands behind her head. The look in her 
 eyes was like that of a mild baby trying 
 to diagnose a sunbeam. 
 
 " Really, you know, if mamma would
 
 I2O A Circle in the Sand 
 
 only rest her tired little body and head 
 and leave me to myself she'd be very 
 wise. She has nothing to fear from me. 
 I know what's expected of me. We're 
 poor; worse, we're in debt. She lives 
 in perpetual dread of my marrying a 
 poor man. Could anything be more ab- 
 surd? Nothing in the world will ever 
 be as dear to me as my personal com- 
 fort. For a girl to go into business life 
 as you have done, making her own 
 way, working, struggling, is beyond 
 my understanding. Some one must al- 
 ways support me, Anne, and support 
 me well." 
 
 " I wonder you came back to America 
 without a title, or at least a fortune." 
 
 " I could have married money several 
 times, and a lot of it," said Olga, " but 
 unfortunately I distinctly disliked the 
 men. It wouldn't do to marry a man 
 you couldn't for the life of you be civil 
 to. Would it?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! Aren't you over- 
 sensitive?" 
 
 The laughter in Anne's tone did not
 
 A Circle in the Sand 121 
 
 disturb Olga. She pursed out her lips 
 and nodded. 
 
 " I almost caught a title too. This is 
 the way I missed it : for one thing, 
 mamma's eagerness frightened him. 
 I'm sure he could see her shake as soon 
 as he appeared. I'm sure he saw her 
 nudge me. But that wouldn't have seri- 
 ously mattered if he hadn't found me 
 out." 
 
 Her lips curled in a one-sided smile. 
 
 " I can laugh now, but really it was 
 provoking at the time. Val dear thing 
 he was ! hated the least touch of un- 
 conventionality in a woman, and smok- 
 ing he considered only a little better 
 than swearing. By the way, I'm telling 
 you the truth about myself, Anne. It's 
 such a relief to tell it. I never do ex- 
 cept to relatives. With men it's impos- 
 sible not to pose; they expect so much. 
 Well, my dear, I posed for Val for six 
 long, weary months. I played the little 
 lamb, always with a bit of needlework, 
 practising the Madonna gaze, taking 
 only one glass of champagne at dinners
 
 122 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 and declining cigarettes with a shy, re- 
 proachful glance. He used to tell me 
 I was his ideal, that it seemed profane 
 to love me, that nature knew what she 
 was about when she fashioned me like 
 an angel, etc. One day he walked into 
 Morley's where I was having my por- 
 trait done, and found me with Mrs. 
 Sutton Vane, a little monkey of a 
 woman with a fast manner, and whom 
 he particularly detested. We had a bet 
 on as to which could blow the roundest 
 rings of smoke. I, his Madonna, his 
 angel, his snow-flower, won, while he, 
 unseen by me, watched. Sudden bus- 
 iness called him away next day, busi- 
 ness so absorbing he never came back. 
 Mamma has sat up nights with her 
 finger to her forehead wondering why. 
 I am all blank amazement when the 
 subject is broached. And here endeth 
 the romance of Lord Valentine Dun- 
 wearthy. It went up in smoke." 
 " You weren't a bit in love with him ? " 
 " In love ? No. I never loved any- 
 thing but this. Listen!"
 
 A Circle in the Sand 123 
 
 She went to the mirror and looked 
 into it steadily for a moment, then 
 turned to Anne, her whole expression 
 changed. The laziness of glance van- 
 ished. She flung up her head and 
 laughed joyously. To Anne's amaze- 
 ment the lines from " The Merchant 
 of Venice " where Portia decides to 
 masquerade as a man, left her lips at 
 first tenderly, with half-hidden laugh- 
 ter, as a school-girl confides a secret, 
 then with assurance, a pretty swagger, 
 delighted anticipation. 
 
 Anne listened in wonder. The room 
 seemed to fade, the clatter from the 
 street became unreal, and it was not 
 Olga who stood before her. It was 
 Portia glittering in queenliness and 
 coquetry, the perfume of an Italian 
 garden coming in with the sunset, a 
 minstrel lounging near her, swords 
 distantly clanking as waiting gallants 
 moved. Her voice had power and 
 sweetness. Her awakened face sparkled 
 changefully. She seemed possessed of 
 a soul with wings struggling to be free.
 
 124 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 When the last word was spoken she 
 sank down by Anne's side and seized 
 her hand. 
 
 "You liked it? I see you did." 
 
 " Oh, where have you had the 
 chance" 
 
 " Didn't you know they went wild in 
 London society over my Constance in 
 ' The Love Chase ' ? I played it at 
 a dozen houses for various charities. 
 Oh, the stage ! That would make pov- 
 erty endurable. The life calls me, 
 Anne. I know its disadvantages, no 
 one better, but it's a rare lot when 
 you feel your fitness for it. I'll never 
 do more than dabble with it for amuse- 
 ment, but if I could if I'd been free 
 to do as I pleased the world would 
 have heard of me. Here's mamma," 
 she broke off, the light leaving her 
 face. " She's coming with hot milk to 
 give me a face-bath. By the way, she 
 loathes acting, even my amateur work, 
 but I've already made arrangements 
 with Mrs. Oswald Morse to do Kate 
 Hardcastle at Tuxedo for the Work-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 125 
 
 ing Girls' Library Fund. She'd have 
 palpitation of the heart if she knew it. 
 I'll tell her the day before." 
 
 Anne left her in her mother's hands, 
 over a basin of steaming milk. The 
 meeting had left a unique and emphatic 
 impression. 
 
 " A woman with a thistledown con- 
 science, a woman to pick the plums 
 from life with soft, business-like fingers 
 and an indifferent air, five feet five of 
 radiant selfishness, that's my cousin 
 Olga," she thought as she went down 
 the street; "but I like her."
 
 Chapter XI 
 
 OLGA appeared as Kate Hardcastle 
 at Tuxedo, and the town, or that 
 part of it circling in carefully barred 
 orbit, talked of her. The papers seized 
 on her as something new, and printed 
 pictures of her as a beauty, libellous 
 things in which she looked dropsical 
 or murderous or only harmlessly mad. 
 Mrs. Ericsson kept the reporters well 
 informed, fumed over the newspaper 
 abortions of her darling, went with her 
 everywhere, to noon breakfasts, to 
 dances ending at dawn, and in asides 
 took pills to stay her heart. 
 
 Every one knew that Smedley Joyce, 
 who had met Olga in London, had 
 been her sponsor in society. In his 
 sister's box at the opera she had made 
 her first appearance in New York. 
 
 He had managed invitations for her, 
 126
 
 A Circle in the Sand 127 
 
 given a luncheon in her honor, and 
 in his rooms on Fifth avenue, at a tea 
 where a rajah in a marvellous turban 
 winked his brilliant eyes, David Temple 
 saw her again. 
 
 There are some men one cannot dis- 
 associate from the names upon their 
 visiting cards. Smedley Joyce was 
 one of these. Smedley, even to his 
 intimates, seemed an impertinence, and 
 Mr. Joyce commonplace. He was his 
 full name, from the glittering apex of 
 his bald crown to the toe of his equally 
 glittering boot. If he could, he would 
 have been lighter, younger, and with 
 the lungs of a football half-back, but 
 just as he was people deferred to him. 
 Hopelessly devoted to a single life, his 
 cult, however, was feminine beauty, 
 and the woman he admired became 
 the fashion. The personality of Smed- 
 ley Joyce pervaded New York. He 
 was a permanent fad; his vogue was 
 unquestioned, like the Thanksgiving 
 turkey and the horse-show. 
 
 In the fragrance and dusk of his
 
 128 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 beautiful rooms he seized David's hand 
 in greeting and gave it the fashionable 
 upward jerk. 
 
 " Ah, you did get up to see us, you 
 dreadfully busy man! You'd make us 
 forget you if that were possible." And 
 David found himself passed on to make 
 room for the next comer. 
 
 He declined tea from the matrons 
 receiving, and kept near the door. He 
 had come in only for a few moments to 
 see the rajah and talk with him. As he 
 stood there, his big shoulders and keen 
 face showing clearly above those sur- 
 rounding him, he looked across the 
 whispering, constantly changing crowd 
 for the famous Hindoo. 
 
 Close by the big, yawning leaves of 
 palms screening the zither-players he 
 saw him. The lean brown profile with 
 the huge crimson turban above was 
 bending over some one. It was Olga. 
 When the crowd parted David saw her 
 plainly. 
 
 She was on a low seat beside a pink 
 lamp, her mother, now chatting at a
 
 A Circle in the Sand 129 
 
 little distance, having early seen the 
 advantage of the rosy light. She was 
 in velvet and furs, her lips under a deli- 
 cate veil lazily smiling. A hat with a 
 brim, and a big one, shadowed her eyes 
 and gave them deeper mystery. Her 
 pose was regal, gentle. The upward 
 glances given to the rajah were lazy, 
 provoking. Her delicate lips were 
 humid with a childish sensuousness. 
 
 No wonder David and a dozen other 
 men who watched her came to the same 
 decision she was beautiful, loving, 
 gentle, true. She seemed the sort of 
 woman men so frequently choose as a 
 wife and never as a comrade: a help- 
 less, fascinating, fastidious creature, 
 whose eyes express the words: "Tell 
 me, dear, just what to do. You know 
 so much better than I;" not a woman 
 of original opinions on anything under 
 the sun; as conventional in thought as 
 in the way she wore her hair; not tailor- 
 made, independent, or athletic; one 
 whose gowns were always marvels to 
 men's eyes, fragrant mysteries of lace
 
 130 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 and ribbons; a woman to love ease and 
 cushions and never remember an ad- 
 dress; to coo to a baby, crave needle- 
 work, and dabble in charity, alto- 
 gether a seductive contrast to the restless 
 spirit of a man's business life. 
 
 Her physical radiance came upon 
 David for the second time with the 
 power of a summons. He had fre- 
 quently thought of her since the pre- 
 vious meeting. No one who once saw 
 Olga ever quite forgot her. Side by 
 side with the fancy of what Elaine 
 might have been, her lovely face, rare 
 in type, took its place. 
 
 He made his way to her and she 
 gave him her hand, sinking back in a 
 lazy attitude. The rajah was forgotten 
 by him, and they talked of many things, 
 of trifles mostly, but Olga had a way of 
 making light talk entrancing. Her 
 speech was pretty, and her laziness 
 wrapped a listener with a sense of 
 magnetic quiet. 
 
 Growing more serious, she questioned 
 David about the " Citizen," of Anne's
 
 A Circle in the Sand 131 
 
 position in the office, and spoke in an 
 attractively feminine way of the mys- 
 tery attending the making of a news- 
 paper. 
 
 "How can Anne do it?" she said, 
 smoothing her muff, her trustful eyes 
 lifted to his. " Oh, I suppose Pm 
 stupid, helpless, but I should*;'*" like 
 such a life of tension and rush; always 
 among the wheels that's how it seems 
 to me. I'm afraid I'd be like a silly 
 butterfly caught in a machine." 
 
 " Anne's desires are different from 
 yours," said David, and the perfume 
 of the violets under her chin lightened 
 his heart as if the shade of spring had 
 passed him. He looked at her almost 
 tenderly. " Yours are better." 
 
 "Think so?" 
 
 " Better for a woman," he said softly. 
 " I think so, but perhaps I'm intolerant; 
 perhaps I'm old-fashioned. , I admire 
 Anne, and I like her more than I can 
 say. I like many women who hold 
 her ambitious views, but they seem to 
 me to gain brilliancy and self-reliance
 
 132 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 at the sacrifice of a quality that is beau- 
 tiful and indefinable, like a mist or a 
 perfume." 
 
 " And you don't despise a woman 
 who likes needlework? " asked Olga, as 
 if confessing to one of her pet diver- 
 sions; "who doesn't belong to a 
 woman's club; who cries over a novel, 
 and maybe not one of the best?" 
 
 "God forbid!" said David vehe- 
 mently. " Soon she'll be found only 
 among obsolete classifications. I, for 
 one, intend to extol her before she 
 quite disappears." 
 
 "Dear me!" she said, with low 
 laughter. " I almost feel the pin through 
 me now, as I repose in a glass case 
 labelled in black and white, * Rare speci- 
 men of woman belonging to the remote 
 era, when she did nothing but try to be 
 happy and was glad of it.'" 
 
 She leaned toward David as she 
 spoke, and some one brushing past her 
 to greet a friend forced her closer, so 
 for a second her shoulder pressed his, 
 her lips were an inch away, her warm,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 133 
 
 startled breath swept his throat. It was 
 but a second's nearness, yet his heart 
 gave a throb of almost savage joy. In 
 a flash her beauty became a temptation, 
 a passionate happiness filled him, a 
 breeze seemed to sweep along his nerves, 
 and he knew why an unexplained joy 
 had come to him with the first sight of 
 this woman's face. 
 
 With her arrival his senses had strug- 
 gled to awaken as at a call. Now there 
 was no resisting the feeling. It was a 
 quick, complete fascination. Conscious 
 of it, he grew silent and looked at Olga 
 with new vision. 
 
 He felt how apart from all others is 
 the moment when a man first faces the 
 question placed before him by his own 
 consciousness, " Is this the woman I 
 am to love ? " It may be he awakens 
 to the truth slowly after she has passed 
 through the changes from stranger to 
 nearest friend. Or one look into an 
 unfamiliar face may blur all save the 
 pursuing newness of that one truth. 
 The moment is the same over-sweet,
 
 134 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 painful, intimately dear, never to be for- 
 gotten. 
 
 There was no chance for further talk 
 between them. Smedley Joyce bore 
 down on Olga with a monocled stranger 
 in tow. A moment afterward a famous 
 singer was announced. Every one 
 knew it was Smedley Joyce's law that 
 the music for which he paid so much 
 should be respected, and silence save 
 for an occasional whisper and rustle 
 settled upon the crowd as the singer 
 appeared. 
 
 She was pale, with heavy-lidded, sad 
 eyes. A white gown draped her thin 
 form. Roses flamed in her girdle. 
 Her contralto voice was strange, un- 
 earthly, as she sang in a whisper of the 
 heart-wrung damozel who watched 
 from Heaven. She sang of love with 
 death closely following. Her fingers 
 moved slowly; she seemed talking to 
 the keys: 
 
 " ' I wish that he were come to me 
 
 For he will come, 1 she said. 
 
 ' Have I not prayed in Heaven ? On earth,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 135 
 
 Lord, Lord, has he not prayed? 
 
 Are not two prayers a perfect strength, 
 
 And shall I be afraid ? 
 
 " ' There will I ask of Christ the Lord 
 
 This much for him and me 
 
 Only to live as once on earth, 
 
 With love ; only to be, 
 
 As then awhile, forever now 
 
 Together, I and he.' " 
 
 Music had never moved David Tem- 
 ple like that strange song. It saddened 
 his heart, while his brain was ravished 
 with a sense of its beauty. It gave to 
 the new passion thrilling him an ideal- 
 ity which it did not possess. 
 
 He looked at Olga, hoping for one 
 glance, but she was sitting with her 
 head turned away, her eyes on the 
 singer, waiting for the next song. David 
 wanted to hear no more. He wished 
 to keep the memory of that cry of 
 human need, holding an echo as if 
 caught in the far spaces of Heaven, 
 to knit it with the revelation of the hour. 
 
 Outside he found the dusk and the icy 
 air. There was a medley of cold colors 
 in the sky, the solemn night was near,
 
 136 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the avenue veiled in gray. He hurried 
 on, feeling a new happiness tempered 
 by the pain of uncertainty. Questions 
 troubled him. Was this really love? 
 Was his hand upon the string from 
 which so many marvellous strains and 
 pitiful discords had been struck? 
 
 He had always calmly and remotely 
 contemplated the rounding of his life 
 with a great love, but something in him 
 had heretofore disdained sentiment. At 
 its best it had seemed a majestic weak- 
 ness, commonly only a ridiculous thing. 
 He had known perfect friendship, but 
 the love he had seen make fools of the 
 wise, turn the flow of a life completely 
 out of its course, had seemed as removed 
 from him as insanity until to-night. 
 
 He still felt the touch of Olga's body, 
 the violet's perfume no sweeter than 
 her breath. 
 
 " Only to live as once on earth, 
 With love " 
 
 " As once on earth ! " There was rapt- 
 urous memory of a joy he had never
 
 A Circle in the Sand 137 
 
 known in those words. Their burden 
 of passionate melody went with him 
 like the voice of conscience. He saw 
 only Olga's inviting eyes.
 
 Chapter XII 
 
 DAVID loitered over his after-din- 
 ner coffee. Though expected at 
 the office, a disinclination to enter the 
 world of prose and machinery mastered 
 him. He was in a relaxed and fanciful 
 mood. He sat by the club window, 
 conscious of the shadows flitting under 
 the lamps, listening to the street sounds. 
 He talked with those about him on 
 social happenings and politics, but al- 
 ways, no matter what was said, felt a 
 fine disregard of it all, because the 
 glamour of the afternoon was with him 
 still and his deeper thought was of 
 that alone. 
 
 " I'd love to hear Anne sing a ballad 
 to-night," he thought, as he went down 
 the steps, a cigar between his lips. " I 
 wonder if she's at home. She can't be 
 off with Donald anywhere, for he wasn't 
 138
 
 A Circle in the Sand 139 
 
 in town to-day- I'll see if she's in, at 
 any rate. The walk down the lower 
 part of the avenue and across Washing- 
 ton square will be glorious on a night 
 like this." 
 
 David was in a mood when a man is 
 his own historian, and reads the facts of 
 a life with pleasure or a sense of failure 
 according to the truth in that intimate, 
 unpublished record. He saw none of 
 the passers-by, was only half conscious 
 of the frost and the gas-lit streets. He 
 was regarding his years from boyhood, 
 and measuring the completeness of his 
 present by his use of opportunities. 
 
 It was a comfortable revery. He 
 had nothing to regret. The death of his 
 father had been his only grief, soon 
 lived down in the fulness of ambition 
 and independent wealth. No shadow 
 lurked in his past. He had experi- 
 mented with " the world, the flesh, and 
 the devil," but had formed no ignoble 
 ties. He had splendid health, invinci- 
 ble will, limitless desire for success in 
 whatever he touched, clean years be-
 
 140 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 hind him, a shadowless future. Sup- 
 pose he married? A picture rose be- 
 fore him as inviting in its way as the 
 others of the group. Why not? A 
 woman, gentle, beautiful, sympathetic, 
 reflecting him, sharing his life, children 
 in his home, their future to be laid and 
 finished when his own life was practi- 
 cally over. 
 
 His heart glowed; a spirit singing of 
 triumph went with him. 
 
 Very soon for he walked quickly 
 he had crossed the almost empty square 
 to the street where Anne lived. Her 
 sympathy meant much to him since he 
 wished urgently for her to-night, as if 
 she would divine the power of the new 
 dream possessing him and all his secret 
 thoughts. He might lead her on to talk 
 to him about Olga. 
 
 As he went toward the house his eyes 
 were fastened on her windows. He was 
 not aware that a man had come down 
 the garden path, and having opened 
 the gate stood watching him. But 
 when his eyes became accustomed to
 
 A Circle in the Sand 141 
 
 the shadow he saw Donald's face under 
 the low-drawn hat. It was almost un- 
 familiar, haggard, of a sick pallor, the 
 old curse with a new shame upon it. 
 
 David looked at him in silence. The 
 leniency of secret brotherhood between 
 them had lately influenced his inward 
 attitude toward Donald, and there was 
 an elder brother's scrutiny and im- 
 patience in the look he fixed upon 
 him. 
 
 " When I sent for you this morning, 
 Donald, I heard you hadn't been home 
 for three days," he said gravely. " I 
 thought you'd gone to the lightship to 
 make the pictures for Arnold's story, 
 though next week would have done for 
 that. Did you go ? " 
 
 Donald drew back into the path, the 
 light of the street-lamp upon him. He 
 seemed to age. He lifted his hands 
 and let them fall heavily. 
 
 " No, I didn't. I meant to go. I 
 Well, you see how it's been with me," 
 he said bluntly. 
 
 "You've been drinking again."
 
 142 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " You've hit it. Going at the devil's 
 pace." 
 
 It was the apathetic admission of one 
 vanquished. 
 
 David had always thought of him 
 with impatience as one deliberately bad, 
 seeking the congenial though it meant 
 wreckage, and he had mentally washed 
 his hands of him long ago. Just because 
 he was a brother and dependent he had 
 retained him on the " Citizen " despite 
 his lapses, paying him for what work he 
 handed in, never questioning him, let- 
 ting him entirely alone. He had always 
 viewed two things as hopeless a 
 woman with a hobby, a man with a 
 vice. There was no lasting virtue in 
 reformation. He had seen so many 
 failures, even when men and women 
 hungered for the good they were not 
 strong enough to grasp. And now 
 Donald the old story! It was a pity. 
 The years behind him were his future 
 temptation. There is shock in a fall, 
 but a step to familiar conditions is easy 
 enough.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 143 
 
 He fingered his cigar uneasily, almost 
 at a loss for words. 
 
 " I'm sorry you were weak, Donald," 
 and the words, despite his effort, had a 
 flat, stereotyped ring, " but you mustn't 
 fancy it's hopeless. You must just be- 
 gin the battle over again." 
 
 Donald's eyes fell, a faint smile played 
 over his face. 
 
 " So she said," and he looked up 
 shrinkingly at Anne's window. " She 
 can't save me; no one can except 
 myself. I must save myself. That's 
 what she said when she sent me 
 away to-night I must save myself. I 
 tried before I was so sure so sure 
 so happy. But when temptation got 
 to a climax it was like a paper house 
 trying to get the better of a flame. You 
 wouldn't bet on the paper house, would 
 you?" he said sharply. 
 
 " Get away from the flame." 
 
 " Suppose you carry it with you night 
 and day, night and day, here, here, 
 here?" he called out, his hand tight 
 upon his breast.
 
 144 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 His expression changed to stolid 
 gloom, and he looked past David. 
 
 " Only for her I'd give it all up and 
 go to the devil without a regret. I 
 didn't mind so much before I knew her. 
 Now when I know what a poor thing I 
 am, why can't I forget that she cares 
 what happens to me, go away, quench 
 this damnable torture by satisfying it 
 and die, the sooner the better? Why 
 can't I do it?" and his voice rose and 
 quivered, but sank again to a whisper. 
 " I can't. I can't. No one else cares a 
 hang what becomes of me, but as long 
 as she cares I've got to try in spite of 
 myself. I've got to try, and suffer, and 
 deserve a little her belief in me." 
 
 He laid his arm along the icy bars 
 and let his head fall upon it. David 
 thought of his late self-congratulation, 
 the contented review of his life, and the 
 sight of this tormented soul was terrible. 
 
 " Look here, Donald, this is all non- 
 sense. You mustn't take this lapse 
 so seriously. You must forget it and 
 start anew," and he pulled at the
 
 A Circle in the Sand 145 
 
 bent shoulder, his tone encouraging. 
 " That's what you must do. And you 
 mustn't think no one cares but Anne," 
 he added softly, his hand tightening 
 where it lay. "I care very much." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 Donald lifted his head and looked 
 steadily at David. 
 
 " Yes, I. Don't forget that. No one 
 was more glad than I when you started 
 in to make something of yourself. I 
 pity you now. By and by I want to be 
 proud of you. Don't say you have no 
 friend but Anne Garrick. I hope you'll 
 deserve her good opinion. But re- 
 member I count on you, too. I will do 
 anything in the world to help you. 
 Don't you believe it?" 
 
 He held out his hand. Donald 
 looked at it, but did not stir. There 
 was almost irresistible magnetism in 
 David's kindling eyes, and Donald had 
 always stealthily loved him. But he 
 could not touch the proffered hand, 
 much as he- longed to. It would be 
 renouncing too sweet a revenge.
 
 146 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " Won't you take my hand ? " 
 
 "No," he said insolently. "What 
 have you ever been to me that I should 
 flatter this poetic impulse of yours 
 this impulse now that means noth- 
 ing?" 
 
 Chagrin and uneasiness seized David; 
 his hand fell. 
 
 " I'm sincere. What do you mean?" 
 
 "You care what becomes of me? 
 You care for my contemptible exist- 
 ence? You?" 
 
 He stood erect, buttoning his coat 
 tightly across his breast, his eyes brill- 
 iant and dry. 
 
 "You seem sceptical," and David's 
 tone was uncertain in a way most un- 
 usual for him. "Believe it or not, I'm 
 ready to help you now or at any time." 
 
 " Oh, are you ? " said Donald slowly, 
 nodding his head. " Your generosity 
 comes too late. This is a strange place 
 to have this matter out between us. I 
 never supposed I'd speak of myself to 
 you, but I'm not myself to-night. You, 
 too, seem to have undergone a wonder-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 147 
 
 ful change. The words you speak are 
 unfamiliar. Why didn't you say years 
 ago what you've said to-night? Did 
 you ever think of the difference between 
 us what love and care can make of a 
 boy, what scorn and intolerance can 
 make of him ? There were nights when 
 I thought I'd go mad from sheer loneli- 
 ness, and you, full of your schemes and 
 pleasures, never gave me a thought. 
 My heart starved for sympathy, but I 
 couldn't get near you. Don't let me 
 think of those days before I had learned 
 to say, i I don't care,' and when you 
 could have helped me. Don't let me 
 think of them." 
 
 He brushed past David and pulled 
 open the gate. 
 
 " Wait a minute, Donald. What you 
 say requires an answer. Listen to me. 
 You forget circumstances made it 
 almost impossible for us to be friends. 
 My father's unhappiness with your 
 mother, his dislike of you cruelly un- 
 just, I admit " 
 
 " I was his sin." And a sneer made
 
 148 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 Donald ugly for a moment. " His eyes 
 couldn't bear to light on me. The sight 
 of me turned him sick, and made him 
 nose for comfort among the Psalms 
 telling of King David's repentance. I 
 was his materialized sin, and he 
 scourged me. You know that." 
 
 "Yes; but there, don't let us go into 
 that miserable business! I'm only try- 
 ing to defend myself. The injustice of 
 those days wasn't my fault." 
 
 " And after John Temple died, was 
 there any difference? You gave me 
 work, but I was nothing to you. For 
 eight years I've been busy at slow homi- 
 cide, strangling whatever was good in 
 me. You said nothing. You didn't tell 
 me then to brace up and make some- 
 thing of myself. Now" and the 
 words were a cry of anguish "I 
 seem to have a malformed soul unfit 
 for struggle. It's like entering a cripple 
 against a giant. Once what wouldn't I 
 have given to have felt you really cared ! 
 Think what it would have been to me! 
 I was without a friend, as ready for evil
 
 A Circle in the Sand 149 
 
 as a laid powder-trail is for a match. 
 If you'd spoken then as you did to- 
 night " he paused, looking away from 
 David. "You didn't. You offer your 
 encouraging words now. They're use- 
 less, and I refuse them." 
 
 He closed the gate sharply, and 
 David watched him down the street. 
 There was a sick sense of guilt at his 
 heart. For the first time he faced the 
 truth. He saw himself wrapped in 
 egotism, living for personal success, 
 never thinking of the want in Donald's 
 life. He had always known he was cold, 
 practical, stern, apt to view the failures 
 of life with impatience, the road to his 
 heart a narrow one beset by roughnesses ; 
 but to realize he had been cruel too, 
 and that the remorseful soul he had 
 faced to-night was in some degree a 
 result of his self-absorption, was a new 
 and hateful fact. Even this present con- 
 sideration for Donald had been selfish. 
 His own unqualified content had made 
 him kind, as an over-full glass must 
 waste some of its wine.
 
 150 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 On leaving the club he had looked 
 forward to a cosey hour with Anne, 
 when he might have led her to talk 
 about her cousin; but he had been 
 roused to something sterner, to face a 
 delayed duty, and when he did anything 
 he did it well. 
 
 Anne was writing when he went into 
 the sitting-room. 
 
 " I met Donald at the gate," were his 
 first words, and he noticed a look of 
 anxiety pass over her face. 
 
 " Were you speaking to him ? " 
 
 " Yes, we had it out. Curious, wasn't 
 it, after all these years to know for the 
 first time the real Donald at your gar- 
 den gate ? " 
 
 " Don't be hard on him," she said 
 clearly, standing up. 
 
 An expression of defiance in her eyes 
 added to his self-reproach. He looked 
 at her thoughtfully. 
 
 " I must have seemed a brute to you. 
 Sit down by me here, Anne, and help 
 me a little. I've always been so obedi- 
 ent to my conscience that it has never
 
 A Circle in the Sand 151 
 
 been a nuisance. Well, to-night it 
 stings me like a fretful woman, and I 
 must silence it," he said bitterly. " Pm 
 going to do something for Donald. I've 
 a scheme I think would save him. I'm 
 going to help him with all my heart." 
 
 "You will?" 
 
 " With all my heart." 
 
 " Oh, yes! " she said, seizing David's 
 hand, her love for him rushing over 
 her. " He's done all he could to ruin 
 his life, but you'll help him to value it 
 now. You're so good ! "
 
 Chapter XIII 
 
 MRS. ERICSSON fluttered into the 
 green and white room and stood 
 before Olga. She looked like a quiver- 
 ing interrogation-mark. 
 
 " Why won't you go to see Irving 
 with the Kents? The invitation has 
 come at the last moment, but you know 
 they got the box unexpectedly, so you 
 needn't fancy you've been asked just 
 to fill in." 
 
 She surveyed Olga with pleading 
 eyes and irritated air. Never had she 
 seemed so purposely provoking as now, 
 lying before the window in a steamer 
 chair, calm, attentive, and polite. 
 
 "I'm not going, dear," said Olga, 
 settling herself at an angle which 
 brought added comfort and turning the 
 fashion magazine she had been reading 
 face downward on her knee, " because 
 152
 
 A Circle in the Sand 153 
 
 I'm lazy, because this dry cold makes 
 my nose an ugly magenta " 
 
 " You have furs " 
 
 "Because I hate the theatre in the 
 daytime, am sick to death of Mrs. Kent 
 and her knobby-headed son " 
 
 " Olga, you'll simply drive me dis- 
 tracted by your indifference." 
 
 "And because David Temple is com- 
 ing at five o'clock." 
 
 " Oh," with a comprehensive gasp, 
 "is he?" 
 
 " I asked him in last night." 
 
 Mrs. Ericsson dropped into a chair 
 and folded her hands in her lap. 
 
 " Olga," she said seriously, " for the 
 past month, ever since Smedley Joyce's 
 tea, he has been following you about. 
 You've encouraged him, whether for 
 fun, as you call it, or not I don't know. 
 But people say David Temple is not a 
 marrying man and to have him loom up 
 like your shadow wherever you go will 
 hurt your chances. It certainly will." 
 
 " Think so ? " and Olga drew a loose 
 strand of hair through her fingers.
 
 154 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " I know it. You're very perverse. 
 There's Bob Deschalles making a fool of 
 himself over you, a man with one of 
 the largest fortunes " 
 
 " And a fool. I'm not exacting when 
 millions are appended, but I draw the 
 line at him. Don't talk of him any 
 more." 
 
 She looked fully at her mother with 
 open criticism. 
 
 " How little you understand me. If 
 you knew anything of character, you'd 
 have seen long ago I must be proud of 
 the man I marry. I need not care a pin 
 for him, but because of brains, family 
 or personality with wealth, I must re- 
 gard him as a prize and have other 
 women envy me. D'ye see? Now 
 who'd envy me Bob Deschalles who 
 under heaven?" 
 
 She gave a conclusive shrug and re- 
 turned to the magazine. Her mother 
 looked at her and sighed impatiently. 
 
 "Well, about David Temple?" she 
 said sharply. 
 
 " And what about him ? He's coming
 
 A Circle in the Sand 155 
 
 at five. I'm going to pour tea for him, 
 which he'll pretend to drink. I'll see 
 he thinks me beautiful, which I am, as 
 well as a great many other things which 
 I'm not." 
 
 " You know well enough what I 
 mean, Olga. You can be so provoking. 
 Why don't you answer me ? " 
 
 " You haven't asked me anything." 
 
 " Does he mean anything ? " she asked 
 angrily. 
 
 " Yes, he means everything." 
 
 "Has he said anything?" And a 
 look of rapacity made Mrs. Ericsson's 
 eyes gleam. 
 
 " Not exactly." 
 
 " Then how can you tell ? You only 
 think so. You've thought so before and 
 been mistaken." 
 
 " I feel it." 
 
 " And you'd marry him? " 
 
 "Why not? I've used my eyes to 
 good advantage, mamma, though I 
 haven't seemed to see much. Women 
 have stopped running after David Tem- 
 ple because he's been given up as
 
 156 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 hopeless. Suppose I win him? If any 
 have doubted my power they'll doubt 
 no more. Besides, he inspires a deli- 
 cious sense of fear in me. As for what 
 he is," and she extended her hands, 
 " show me anything better. He's 
 rich. The position he holds at the head 
 of the ' Citizen,' representing its brains 
 and money, is the nearest thing to a 
 title to be had in this country. More 
 than this, he's ambitious, and he'll keep 
 advancing. He may go into politics, be 
 the President who knows ? and I'll 
 make things hum at the White House.'' 
 She rose and in passing her mother 
 drew her hand teasingly down her small, 
 worried face, flattening the nose. " How 
 would you look, dear, between two 
 foreign diplomats at a state dinner? 
 Just like a pussy-cat," she laughed 
 merrily. " And how would it like to 
 look like a pussy-cat?" 
 
 "Don't be childish, Olga." Mrs. 
 Ericsson rearranged her nose and stood 
 up testily. "You've evidently made up 
 your mind. Well, I'll be glad when
 
 A Circle in the Sand 157 
 
 it's settled and the strain of keeping up 
 appearances is over." 
 
 " If you only wouldn't worry," said 
 Olga placidly. 
 
 " Not worry? " flashed Mrs. Ericsson 
 from the doorway. " And where would 
 you be and how would things be with 
 you to-day if I didn't worry to find some 
 way of making ends meet? I'll say 
 ' Thank God ' when it's ended." 
 
 "And I'll say 'Amen,'" said Olga, 
 with more emphasis than was usual 
 with her.
 
 Chapter XIV 
 
 AT eight o'clock it was snowing 
 wildly. The city was like the 
 wraith of what it had been in the morn- 
 ing hours. Foot-marks were wiped out 
 as soon as made, and the whirl of the 
 storm filled the town with excitement. 
 
 The bell in David Temple's office 
 was rung sharply. 
 
 " I didn't know Mr. Temple'd come 
 back," said Pete in dismay, sliding the 
 latest dime novel under a box. 
 
 While fastening her veil Anne 
 listened for David's voice. His steady, 
 unaccented tones came clearly to her. 
 He had returned and entered his pri- 
 vate office without passing through the 
 editorial rooms. A moment later he 
 came in. 
 
 "I thought you'd be gone," he said, 
 pausing beside her. His eyes were 
 158
 
 A Circle in the Sand 159 
 
 unusually bright, a cool color from the 
 storm was on his cheeks. " I'm going 
 out again in a moment and will go up 
 town with you. I just came down to 
 see Farley," and he crossed to the 
 night editor's desk. 
 
 Ten minutes later they were on the 
 streets together. The snow stung their 
 faces, settled like a mantle over them, 
 and in capricious skeins half hid the 
 blinking eyes of the crowd they passed 
 through. Shivering newsboys blew on 
 their fingers, crouching under the stairs 
 of the elevated road, and white-capped 
 tamale men, presiding over their copper 
 cans like magicians over a flame, sent 
 their rolling cry from the shelter of 
 doorways. 
 
 The trains were crowded at that 
 hour. It was necessary for Anne to 
 take a seat far from where David stood, 
 and she could only see his big shoulders 
 beyond an intervening dozen. By the 
 time her gate came in sight after a 
 difficult walk, the storm had reached 
 crescendo and they were breathless.
 
 160 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " Come up to the fire for a moment," 
 said Anne. 
 
 " But you haven't dined ? " 
 
 " Hours ago. It's almost nine. Come 
 in. I've seen nothing of you for a 
 week." 
 
 "Just for a moment, then, if I may. 
 Besides, I want to speak to you of 
 Donald." 
 
 And it was of Donald they talked, 
 yet something in David's tone thrilled 
 and bewildered Anne. He had been 
 successful in his interview with Donald 
 Sefain, had flung the first plank across 
 the chasm between them. But content 
 for that did not explain the light in his 
 face, the passionate air in his whole 
 presence. He seemed revelling in un- 
 expressed exultation. With a foolish 
 stirring of the heart Anne was con- 
 scious of it, and waited. 
 
 As he talked he leaned back with 
 eyes half closed. The pose forcibly re- 
 called the first day she saw him, when 
 he had tried to prevent her becom- 
 ing a newspaper woman, the flung-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 161 
 
 back shoulder and half-closed eye, the 
 loosened lock of hair clinging to the 
 forehead and giving a boyish touch to 
 his face. Then he was a stranger, treat- 
 ing her like a too ambitious child. Now 
 he was David, so familiar, so well un- 
 derstood he was like another self, and 
 she loved him. 
 
 There was fright in this last thought 
 to-night. She seemed wild and strong, 
 but chained by one invisible thread of 
 her own making. While she listened 
 to David she found herself endeavoring 
 to explain to her pride the voluntary 
 surrender of her heart to this man who 
 did not and might never love her. 
 
 From this her thoughts drifted to 
 the optimism in natural selection, and 
 that it might be unreciprocated. After 
 all, she was only following an old law. 
 Other women had impulsively and si- 
 lently loved men whose hearts had 
 been closed to them. 
 
 She knew that David was indiffer- 
 ent. He permitted few people an ac- 
 quaintance with his intimate self. He
 
 162 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 sought none. Yet no man had more 
 friends. Pete in the office, to whom 
 from sheer unconcern he had never 
 spoken a kind word, felt privileged in 
 some mysterious way when commis- 
 sioned to carry home a parcel for him. 
 Donald, in spite of the untoward cir- 
 cumstances of their lives, loved him 
 with all his heart. It was not strange, 
 then, since David Temple was a man 
 whose magnetism was a positive posses- 
 sion, who owned the passive supremacy 
 which steals from the recorded lives of 
 Napoleon and Dean Swift, that one 
 woman should have come still nearer 
 to him uninvited. She seemed defend- 
 ing her weakness before an invisible 
 jury, and was acquitted. 
 
 "A splendid chance," David was 
 saying when she gave him her undi- 
 vided attention again; "a chance not 
 to be had every day. The partnership 
 can be his for an absurdly small 
 amount, you know, because the Eng- 
 lishman who is cutting it all sickened 
 in the climate and wants to get home.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 163 
 
 But Donald, assisted by the good busi- 
 ness men still in the company, could 
 make it pay. In Brazil" 
 
 " Brazil ? He'll have to go to Brazil ? " 
 she said uncertainly. 
 
 " You haven't been listening to me." 
 And David leaned toward her. " Where 
 do you suppose they grow coffee, Anne, 
 on Staten Island ? Really," he said 
 urgently, " nothing will help Donald 
 like getting away from New York. If 
 it's hard to cut the old associations 
 here, it will be just as hard to form new 
 ones there. At first he would not listen 
 to me, would not let me lend him the 
 necessary money. It was a struggle 
 between us, and I assure you, Anne, I 
 humiliated myself to him." 
 
 " Does he want to go now ? " 
 
 " He wants to try glad even to 
 stop sketching for a while. It need only 
 be for a few years. He will give up 
 brain work and uncertain hours for a 
 life demanding physical energy and 
 systematic habits. Did I tell you," he 
 said more softly, "he's to let me send
 
 164 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 his -proiigi, Joe Evans, to my old nurse 
 in Connecticut? The climate down 
 there would finish the little chap in a 
 wink." He started up and took a few 
 steps up and down. " I never can for- 
 get my visit to his rooms the other night, 
 and the sight of the sick boy there. 
 Donald is a queer mixture of good and 
 bad, isn't he ? He's done what I never 
 could do, been vicious as I never could 
 be, but he's made life a heaven for one 
 creature, urged to it by a humanity 
 which I scarcely understand." 
 
 He stood before the fire and stared 
 into it. There was a line between his 
 brows, his glance was heavy, and Anne 
 knew he was thinking of himself and 
 what he lacked as perhaps he never had 
 before. He sighed and moved so that 
 his elbow rested on the mantel. When 
 he looked down at Anne, she saw again 
 the light as from a heart satisfied which 
 before had puzzled her. 
 
 " Anne," he said, in a musing way, 
 "do I seem unlike myself to-night? " 
 
 She nodded. She could not move 
 her eyes from his.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 165 
 
 " But do I look like a man who has 
 come into a rare inheritance? Do I? 
 Yes, yes," he said quickly. " I want to 
 tell you. You have been so much to 
 me, I must tell you now." 
 
 He took the chair opposite her and 
 again leaned forward. Anne sat mo- 
 tionless, a heavy coldness weighting her. 
 
 " Look at me. I am in love at last, 
 as unreasonably, as hopefully, as if I 
 were twenty-two." 
 
 There was a second's pause. To 
 Anne it was the ray between aspiration 
 and chaos, all that was possible and 
 what could never be. 
 
 " I told Olga to-day I loved her, 
 Anne, and she is going to marry me. 
 You and I will be relatives soon," he 
 said gayly, and pressed her hand. 
 
 There was nothing to tell him that 
 she was cold and in darkness. She re- 
 mained apparently quiet while her heart 
 seemed cloven by a sword. She said 
 everything he expected of her, some 
 of the phrases quite prettily, too. She 
 even laughed while the mirth was dust
 
 1 66 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 on her lip and David unreal and terrible 
 to her. 
 
 After a long time he went away, and 
 she sat like a dead woman, yet curi- 
 ously, painfully alive to one thought: 
 she had loved him, and he had passed 
 her by; Olga had won her happiness. 
 The apathy left her, and she sprang up, 
 her eyes suddenly wild. She hated 
 Olga and envied her bitterly, but only 
 for a moment. Through all her pain 
 she recognized an unquestionable fatal- 
 ity. The reason of her failure to draw 
 to herself the man she loved lay some- 
 where at the large root of things, in 
 darkness, beyond the knowing. Olga's 
 success was just as inexplicable and 
 impersonal. The bitter fact she could 
 face and must accept, but nothing else. 
 
 Unconscious of time, she sat still un- 
 til voices in the hall and a knock at the 
 door seemed to come from a long dis- 
 tance. Nora, half asleep, entered with 
 a letter. A messenger boy in the hall 
 was rubbing his ears with his mittened 
 hands.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 167 
 
 Anne opened the envelope without 
 curiosity, but the words aroused her, 
 and pity for something besides herself 
 passed over her face. 
 
 MY DEAR ANNE : Can you come to my place 
 as soon as you read this? I'm afraid it's all up 
 with poor Joe, and he keeps talking of you. Do 
 come with the messenger. He won't live through 
 the night. I dare not leave his side. 
 
 DONALD. 
 
 Anne looked at the clock. It was 
 after eleven. She heard the wind 
 shake the window in fury, she saw the 
 snow moved like a tremendous curtain 
 westward, and a groaning stole in from 
 the night. The silent room became 
 suddenly unendurable. 
 
 When she stepped from her doorway 
 with the boy, the wind, as if recogniz- 
 ing her affinity by reason of the storm 
 in her soul, welcomed her with frenzy. 
 There was relief in bending her head 
 against the blast, in feeling the flakes 
 sting her face to burning life; the sense 
 of being needed had comfort in it, and
 
 1 68 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the purpose of her errand surmounted 
 for the time the other dull, insistent 
 ache. 
 
 The street where Donald lived was 
 in the heart of the business centre, 
 and mournfully quiet. The lights in 
 high tenements and old-fashioned lodg- 
 ing-houses flickered on lonely stretches 
 of snow, traffic was muffled, and people 
 passed as if with velvet-shod feet. 
 
 Anne dismissed the messenger at 
 Donald's door, and entered alone. 
 From the many small apartments came 
 sounds of the life within. Through 
 one open transom where tobacco-smoke 
 curled she heard a German's voice, 
 raised in argument, roll out, " Bis- 
 marck ! " In another room a girl was 
 laughing unrestrainedly. Farther away 
 the reiterations of a banjo were like 
 punctuations on the silence. 
 
 The meaning of her presence there 
 struck Anne afresh and sharply. One 
 room of this big house was silent, set 
 apart, although no signet-mark of blood 
 showed on the door. Joe, the wan
 
 A Circle in the Sand 169 
 
 picker-boy, had become a personage 
 with all preparations made for a myste- 
 rious and final journey, and she had 
 come to bid him an impressive farewell. 
 At the head of the stairs she paused. A 
 dread of the room beyond and the scene 
 to follow came upon her, and she half 
 turned away. 
 
 But Mrs. Mulligan came down the 
 hall, and under the unsheltered gaslight 
 Anne saw the resigned sorrow of the 
 old on her face. 
 
 " It's ye, acushla," she said, with a 
 long sigh. "Well, poor Joe's gone." 
 
 She opened the door, showing the dim 
 room, Donald at the window, his head 
 bowed, and Joe's spent body outlined 
 on the bed in majestic and eternal quiet. 
 
 Donald turned and came quickly to 
 Anne's side. He held her hand in 
 silence for a moment. 
 
 "I suppose I shouldn't have asked 
 you to come," he said, lifting the snowy 
 cloak from her shoulders, " but Joe 
 wanted you. Only a few moments af- 
 ter the messenger had gone, he died."
 
 170 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 There was a defiant, unhappy smile on 
 his lips. " His reprieve was short-lived, 
 wasn't it? And I had meant to make 
 him happy. I was not permitted, you 
 see. Perhaps I was not fit." 
 
 " Don't don't Donald " And 
 Anne, unable to say more, sat down 
 beside the bed. 
 
 The room was silent. Mrs. Mulligan 
 had stopped the clock, and the hands 
 pointed to the last moment of Joe's life. 
 The old woman who had so sincerely 
 loved the waif drew the cloth to the 
 sharp chin and stood like a figure of 
 Fate, drearily nodding. The boy's face 
 wore the look of fixed appeal with 
 which the dead can disarm even hate. 
 
 " A wild night to die ! " sighed Mrs. 
 Mulligan, striking her palms softly to- 
 gether. " He was a small gossoon to go 
 so far alone. Poor Joe! Ye'll never 
 hould me yarn for me again. I'll miss 
 ye, 'cushla, sore I'll miss ye." Break- 
 ing into sobs, she went out. 
 
 " Anne, I want to speak to you." 
 
 The words were a breath and spoken
 
 A Circle in the Sand 171 
 
 over her shoulder. Anne half turned, 
 when Donald's hand was laid upon her 
 arm. 
 
 " No," he said quickly, " don't look 
 at me. Let me say what I must here." 
 
 His dark, agonized face was bent 
 above her as she sat in a waiting atti- 
 tude, her eyes on the silent clock. A 
 lock of hair lay on her shoulder, and 
 Donald's fingers touched it stealthily 
 during a moment's pause. 
 
 " How can I say what I want to ? " 
 he asked helplessly. " But I needn't 
 say all. You know what you've been 
 to me. Anne, this room holds all my 
 worse than useless life has known 
 you and what was Joe. His eyes are 
 forever closed, the first whose wor- 
 ship I felt I deserved. You don't know 
 what that meant to me. His look was 
 like a waiting pardon, no matter what 
 my sins." 
 
 She tried to lift her hand and speak, 
 but he pressed it back, still avoiding her 
 gaze. 
 
 "What I was to Joe," he said, " you've
 
 172 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 been to me that and more. The bond 
 between us makes me know that in 
 some dear sense I belong to you that 
 you will be made glad or sad by what 
 I may become. Well, far away from 
 you in a land where I shall be alone 
 and lonely I'm going to work, thinking 
 of you. After to-night I may not see 
 you again for years. When I am fit 
 I'll come back, and I may say to you 
 then, Anne, what now I must only 
 whisper from shadow and without a 
 hope. I love you. You are more to 
 me than creed or church or prayers, 
 for you've done what those couldn't. 
 And I love you for yourself, apart from 
 this altogether. I love you, Anne, I 
 love you." 
 
 His voice faltered. Anne rose and 
 faced him. It seemed as if chords in 
 her soul had been struck harshly that 
 night, but in some insolvable way a 
 wondrous harmony had resulted. The 
 yearning sentiment which Donald had 
 always inspired in her rose to some- 
 thing more. In being hope, desire, and
 
 A Circle in the Sand 173 
 
 strength to him there was a responsi- 
 bility of joy and pain she could not 
 wholly accept, yet would not repulse. 
 She gave him her hands, her mouth 
 quivering like a child's. Her eyes were 
 all tenderness and confidence. 
 
 " I don't deserve a love like this," she 
 said seriously. " How little I deserve 
 it! But I'll remember, Donald." 
 
 She sighed and looked at him in- 
 tently. 
 
 " I'll remember all you've said." But 
 when his eyes grew more wistful she 
 looked away. 
 
 It was after two o'clock when Donald 
 left her at her door and said good-by. 
 She watched him down the street, and 
 saw him stand once in the drifting snow 
 and look back. 
 
 She went slowly up the stairs and 
 into the sitting-room, where the fire had 
 been kept bright. A mocking presence 
 seemed to greet her. Just within the 
 door she leaned against the wall. There 
 was the snow-padded window, the cur- 
 tain drawn back as her hand had placed
 
 174 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 it. By the fire was the chair in which 
 David Temple had sat. She saw the 
 book on which her elbow had rested 
 as she had listened to him. 
 
 In the shock of Joe's death and Don- 
 ald's unexpected words the memory of 
 the bitter hour spent there had been 
 crowded back. Now it started into full 
 life, and apprehensive disgust of the 
 days to come nullified other feeling 
 within her. 
 
 " Oh, to forget, to forget, to forget ! " 
 
 She flung off cloak and hat and sat 
 down at her desk before the window. 
 Her lips were set and seemed to have 
 been brushed with ashes. Her eyes 
 were shut beneath frowning brows. 
 She would forget she must. She 
 could not bear the days to come un- 
 less she did forget. 
 
 Before her lay the portfolio holding 
 the pages of her neglected novel. 
 Scarcely knowing what she did, she 
 opened it and laid her hands upon the 
 leaves. A phrase here and there caught 
 her eyes, the names of the characters
 
 A Circle in the Sand 175 
 
 she had created. A deeper attraction 
 for the work awoke in her; desire for 
 sleep departed, and she felt alive to her 
 finger-tips. 
 
 She bent over the pages, and her pen 
 went haltingly at first, but by degrees a 
 new desire dominated her, and nothing 
 but the thought and the word born of 
 the thought were real to her. All else 
 had failed. This power in herself was 
 strong and true. Though all other de- 
 lights forsook her, this never would. 
 
 Her cheek was gray, and the light 
 had gone from her eyes, whose lashes 
 were stiffened with tears. But she was 
 no longer unhappy. The drifting mists 
 of that strange dawn fled under the full 
 sunlight and found her still writing.
 
 Chapter XV 
 
 SEVEN months had passed since 
 David's marriage in April. 
 
 They had gone by for Anne in a 
 vague, uncounted way, not in days, but 
 in dreams, during which only the mental 
 half of her had seemed to live, and the 
 word " work " had been her shibboleth. 
 
 Her finished novel, smelling of 
 printer's ink, lay on her knees. In an 
 absent way she fondled it, ruffled the 
 pages against her cheek, and kissed it. 
 She had begun it when her heart was 
 bleeding, had given herself to it during 
 hours when she should have slept, had 
 walked with it as with a spirit, had 
 known no other love nor friend during 
 those seven months. 
 
 And it had repaid her with comfort, 
 encouragement, and the assurance of 
 
 ideals grasped. She held it as a mother 
 176
 
 A Circle in the Sand 177 
 
 her child, and felt an exquisite peace. 
 No one in all the world ever could 
 know her like that little book. 
 
 The firelit room was restful. Her 
 thoughts strayed back to forbidden 
 scenes. She could think of them to- 
 day without the old sickening sense of 
 loss, when the future had seemed to 
 hold no force sufficient to wipe out or 
 rebuild. She had learned to spell the 
 meaning of life ; it was part of life 
 which had crushed her to tears, the 
 mixed human life, made up of sorrows, 
 affronts, defeats, just such philosophy 
 as she comforted herself with now, and 
 the joy which might sometime be hers. 
 
 For seven months she had not seen 
 David Temple. He had taken Olga 
 through the lands he had dreamed 
 of visiting since his boyhood. An im- 
 petuous, characteristic scrawl had 
 occasionally come from Olga, chiefly 
 at the close of letters from David in 
 which he had rambled on in his old, 
 half-teasing, brilliant style, treating her 
 with the same fascinating camaraderie
 
 178 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 which had once quickened her foolish 
 heart into a surrender he had not de- 
 sired. From lands whose postmarks 
 had suggested visions of strange, fantas- 
 tic beauty these letters had drifted like 
 echoes of brilliant rhapsodies across the 
 semi-tones of her life. 
 
 The first fortnight of the honeymoon 
 had been spent at Ponto del Gado in 
 the Azores, a rare land of sea-encircled 
 silence, the camellias thickly fallen 
 from the trees making a carpet like 
 perfumed snow for the earth. They 
 lived in a cream-colored villa with 
 coral-pink shutters ; it was built on a 
 green hill plateau and approached by a 
 stairway hewn out of lava from some 
 early volcanic torrent; the blue reaches 
 of the Atlantic swept to the blue 
 horizon line on every side, until the 
 world seemed domed and steeped in 
 azure. 
 
 From the heights of Mustapha Supe- 
 rieur outside Algiers, they had watched 
 the fuchsia-pink of fleeting spring 
 dusks die on the Mediterranean, and
 
 A Circle in the Sand 179 
 
 had walked under the moon in the 
 cemetery of a mosque a thousand years 
 old. 
 
 They had lived in a semi-ruined 
 palace in Venice, the street beneath 
 their windows a radiant river holding 
 the stars and moon and the wavering 
 shadows of gondoliers whose oars 
 dipped to music near and far away ; 
 they had watched a bull-fight in Seville ; 
 played at Monte Carlo; and, drifting 
 among the narrow fjords, had felt the 
 weird beauty of the midnight sun in 
 Norway. The past two months had 
 found them in England, guests at sev- 
 eral country houses. Soon they were 
 coming home. 
 
 Anne sat back and clasped her hands 
 behind her head. On the desk beside 
 her lay three letters : one offered her 
 the assistant editor's chair on a new 
 weekly paper ; one ready for the post 
 was her acceptance ; the other was to 
 David and contained her resignation. 
 In withdrawing from the " Citizen," 
 her intimate attitude to David would be
 
 i8o A Circle in the Sand 
 
 changed : they would meet seldom. 
 This was all she desired now. 
 
 The ship which carried David and 
 Olga, among some other hundreds of 
 souls, arrived in New York on a misty 
 November afternoon. 
 
 Dr. Ericsson was at the wharf to 
 meet them. They were to dine that 
 night en famille at the old house in 
 Waverly place. 
 
 " Anne can't be with us," said the 
 old man regretfully as the carriage took 
 them up Broadway. " Her old home 
 in the country is without a tenant at 
 present, and she's taking a rest there. 
 She's been working too hard, too stead- 
 ily, night and day." 
 
 " She's a fool," said Olga from her 
 corner, where she sat wrapped in furs 
 to the nose. " She'll be used up in five 
 years." 
 
 David felt his heart grow warm at 
 the mention of Anne's name. The old 
 life would be delightful again. He 
 had lost many ideals during the long 
 honeymoon, and now longed for work,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 181 
 
 the rush of the " Citizen's " rooms, where 
 discussions on life's verities shot to and 
 fro like a weaver's shuttle. He longed 
 for a sight of Anne at her corner desk, 
 with bent profile or cheek resting in her 
 hand. His marriage should not alter the 
 friendship which had been in its way 
 more satisfying, as it surely was rarer, 
 than love. A comrade of a pretty, clever 
 woman was the best gift a man could 
 have in life. And he knew Anne would 
 be glad to have him back. She must 
 have missed him, for she chose few 
 friends, and none had been to her like 
 him. 
 
 u Tell me about Anne," he said eager- 
 ly, while he gazed with pleasure at the 
 familiar street scenes framed in the 
 carriage windows. " She's well, isn't 
 she?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed! " said Dr. Ericsson, 
 with a bright smile. " Why shouldn't 
 she be ? If, as they say, a woman thrives 
 on admiration, she's had quite enough 
 to turn that dark-tressed head of hers. 
 You know about her book?"
 
 1 82 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 "No. Is it finished? You don't mean 
 she's had her book published ? She did 
 not write that bit of news. I call it sly 
 of her." 
 
 " Perhaps she doubted its merit, its re- 
 ception. She doubts no longer. There 
 are plenty of books chucked at the 
 public, but seldom one like hers. Every- 
 body is recommending it to everybody 
 else." 
 
 " This is great news. Do you hear, 
 Olga?" 
 
 But Olga was asleep. 
 
 " Morgan did a good thing for him- 
 self when he got her for the l Planet,' 
 didn't he ? " asked Dr. Ericsson. " You'll 
 miss her on the ' Citizen.' ' 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked David. 
 " I don't know what you're talking 
 about." 
 
 " But you knew Anne was no longer 
 with the < Citizen.' " 
 
 " No, I didn't." 
 
 " She wrote you ten days two 
 weeks ago." 
 
 " I didn't get the letter, then." And
 
 A Circle in the Sand 183 
 
 David sat back, making no effort to hide 
 his disappointment. 
 
 After learning the particulars he was 
 silent. He could not realize that Anne 
 was gone, and with her to a great extent 
 the influence in his life he desired and 
 loved in the purest sense. He longed 
 to be with her again that night. There 
 was much he wanted to talk to her 
 about. He wanted to see her come 
 toward him and welcome him. He 
 wanted to hear her bright account of 
 the multitude of incidents which had 
 happened during the months he had 
 been away. She had a pretty trick 
 when talking of bringing her fist down 
 upon her knee in the most gentle way, 
 that had always reminded him of a 
 flower striking its head against a wall, 
 he wanted to see that, and her up- 
 lifted face, and to hear her quick 
 laugh. He had felt a similar, but less 
 intricate, craving for a chum at school 
 after the division of the holidays. 
 
 The feeling strengthened during the 
 night, and long after Olga had gone to
 
 184 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 her first land sleep on a bed that didn't 
 wabble he found himself treading the 
 stairs leading to the " Citizen " offices. 
 It was close upon midnight. He had 
 not been expected until morning, and 
 his coming made a sensation. In a 
 twinkling he was in the midst of the old 
 life, finding at that unexpected moment 
 a score of questions to decide and the 
 usual turmoil singing in the air. He 
 flung himself into the work, his disap- 
 pointment about Anne almost forgotten 
 in the earnestness of the hour. 
 
 But in the early morning, when with 
 the wet first copy of the paper in his 
 hand he stood before her deserted desk, 
 a sense of loss crept coldly over him. 
 Would he never see her sitting there 
 again ?
 
 Chapter XVI 
 
 THE old Temple mansion on lower 
 Fifth avenue seemed to wink sur- 
 prise from its windows at the changes 
 which had taken place within its walls 
 for months before and weeks after its 
 master's return. Staircases had been 
 reversed, rooms halved or multiplied, 
 windows made over, and the furniture 
 of many generations removed to make 
 room for the treasures Olga had brought 
 with her from Europe. 
 
 When completed at Christmas-time, 
 it was as beautiful as rare rugs, china, 
 and genuine antiquities could make it. 
 
 Since her earliest memory Olga had 
 never been given a penny to spend 
 without the accompaniment of a cau- 
 tion to use it to the best advantage, as 
 there were few to follow. Later her 
 insatiable need of luxuries beyond her 
 185
 
 i86 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 reach had been gratified by the mount- 
 ing up of bills, but the unpleasantness 
 of debt had followed and eaten half 
 the pleasure. As David Temple's wife 
 she found herself for the first time able 
 to command money, and she spent it. 
 Luxuries became needs, fashionable 
 rivalries troubled her, and she lay 
 awake devising competitive extrava- 
 gances. It was her ambition to be 
 not only the beauty of her set, but 
 a famous beauty and the most talked- 
 of woman of her time. Celebrated 
 belles of the past had found a place 
 in history, either by their splendid gal- 
 lantries, wit, or by the originality of 
 their caprices. 
 
 The age she lived in did not view 
 the first with the palliative shrug be- 
 longing to the days of Charles II. and 
 Louis XIV.; the second was beyond 
 her; but a startling outlay of money by 
 a beauty of good position could create 
 a heroine in this money-worshipping 
 time. 
 
 " You are splendid," Smedley Joyce
 
 A Circle in the Sand 187 
 
 said to her, surveying her with mono- 
 cle held up. " You need splendor. 
 You're the very one to set the pace in 
 society. We have no social successes 
 here worth mentioning, unless I except 
 myself. But you can become leader 
 and attract rivals. That sort of thing 
 gives verve, you know. The day will 
 come when American society will not 
 be the vapid thing it is now, and even 
 self-complacent, non-travelled France 
 will at least have heard our names. 
 You are beautiful, young, rich, and a 
 capital actress. Use your gifts well, 
 startle by your originalities, make a 
 feature of the drama in the drawing- 
 room, spend all the money you can 
 command in a way that will create 
 notice, do these things and you will 
 be a success." 
 
 Olga laid the lesson to heart. Her 
 country-house on the Sound, purchased 
 from a fallen millionaire, soon outdid 
 in cost and display her town-house. 
 Her next craze was for horses, and she 
 had stables built with stalls of oak and
 
 1 88 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 trimmings of copper. A chic Marie 
 Antoinette boudoir on the upper floor 
 was the most bizarre touch, and a small 
 musicale given there attracted the re- 
 porters of society gossip. 
 
 She produced at her own house an 
 old comedy of sufficient frankness to 
 create a sensation among her familiars 
 and make the curious of humbler status 
 ache for a sight of her. She made sen- 
 sational hits by unique methods of be- 
 stowing charity. She became one of 
 the most talked-of women in New 
 York. 
 
 David lived with her, watched her. 
 Every day he learned something new 
 of the shallow, self-centred nature 
 masked by a loveliness which de- 
 spite his reasoning subdued him still. 
 He could have checked her extrava- 
 gance, controlled her. He preferred 
 to do neither, for he knew that in be- 
 coming her master her fear of him 
 would have to be the weapon in his 
 hand, her secret hate the result. 
 
 His fortune was a splendid one. The
 
 A Circle in the Sand 189 
 
 actual money spent, great though it was, 
 troubled him little, but Olga's insensate 
 desire for spending helped to reveal her 
 to him. Her vanity, which she took no 
 pains to hide, was a continual affront. 
 
 They never quarrelled, seldom dis- 
 agreed. Olga was affectionate, soft, 
 gentle, as of old. No man could be 
 insensible to her charm. But David 
 divined how quickly the amiable smile 
 would have changed to stolid dislike 
 had her whims been interfered with. 
 She went her own way serenely, no 
 soul in her life, none in her kiss, lov- 
 ing nothing in the world save her own 
 white and perfect body. 
 
 David was conscious of these truths, 
 yet chose not to see them too clearly. 
 He remained wilfully dull-sighted. He 
 did not dare to think, decide, accept. 
 Why fight the irremediable? Why 
 plunge his mind in shadows? Why 
 face the fact that in the most serious 
 relation of life he had committed an 
 amazing piece of folly? Rather let 
 him accept Olga as she was, not the
 
 190 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 woman of his impassioned fancy. Let 
 him demand only what she could give, 
 and learn to subdue his hunger for an 
 existence she could not be part of nor 
 understand. Let him refrain from 
 fathoming the muddy shallows of her 
 soul, by degrees need her less, and 
 draw around himself the comfort of an 
 irresistible indifference. Better so for 
 the peace of his life. 
 
 But sometimes a memory would 
 trouble David Temple and leave his 
 heart sad. He would think of the 
 day he had heard the pale singer 
 whisper of the damozel who watched 
 from heaven for her lover, and he 
 would remember how in that moment 
 his heart had grown large with joy as 
 he looked at Olga's face. It had really 
 been but the stir of the upper waves of 
 passion, and he had fancied the sea- 
 depths troubled, but from that moment's 
 ache and rapture he had known what 
 love might be in a life when it stayed.
 
 Chapter XVII 
 
 MY DEAR DONALD: You want me to 
 tell you just where I am and how I look 
 whenever I write to you a habit, by the way, 
 which may make me very conceited. 
 
 Well, then, it is a wet Sunday, but soft and hazy 
 as wet June days are. The windows are open and 
 the big tree outside drips a burden of rain-tears. 
 The sky is all mist, with the blue only a little way 
 beyond. I have had a lazy morning, and now after 
 a cold plunge and a cup of tea I am sitting in a 
 white morning-gown and my hair hangs down my 
 back in a long plait. Are these details satisfactory ? 
 I have a big bunch of roses in the copper bowl you 
 gave me, and the bell of the French church is call- 
 ing the people to worship. Oh, it's good to be 
 at peace with everything created ! Hours like this 
 are the heaven of my week. Woman is a luxurious 
 animal, and when she spends six days with disci- 
 pline and routine as I do, she is very apt to go to 
 pieces on the seventh. Behold me, then, to-day, 
 degenerate, not going to church, not improving 
 my mind, not in a stiff collar, and guiltless of a 
 ha-irpin. 
 
 191
 
 192 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 The new " Planet " gets on famously. I have a 
 little room and a big desk all to myself. Proof- 
 readers and others "confer " with me. Think of it ! 
 I feel quite a personage, Donald, but I think my 
 expression is not changed in consequence. I go 
 to the office every day and leave at about three. 
 Generally I write on my new book until dinner. 
 Of course this programme is frequently changed. 
 I go out a good deal, and have met lots of people 
 who simply suggest " copy " with every turn of the 
 head, created for no other purpose, I'm sure, than 
 to have me write about them. Yes, I am still a 
 " student of life." Will you never stop teasing me 
 about that phrase? How often I think of the 
 queer sights we saw together when you were direct- 
 ing my instruction ! Didn't we enjoy them, Donald, 
 that old Russian exile, I can hear his violin 
 now, the first time I saw the "Citizen's" presses 
 going like mad, the nook in the degenerate back 
 street where we had tea and speculated about 
 Paris ? 
 
 You see what your command to talk about my- 
 self has done. I have s talked of nothing else. 
 Did you get the papers I sent about the dinner 
 and cotillion at Olga's? I can't tell you how 
 beautiful she looked. Why, by the way, do you 
 think David isn't happy? Why shouldn't he be ? 
 He has married the woman he loves, and is able 
 to surround her with the luxury she requires to be 
 content. Perhaps he would prefer not to be the
 
 A Circle in the Sand 193 
 
 husband of a society beauty on whom the lens is 
 always fixed. In fact, I know Olga's display must 
 jar upon him. But he is wise enough to know 
 that no life holds all. If he loves her, the rest is 
 mere detail. If he doesn't well, I don't know, 
 Donald. David is a man to hide well what he 
 wishes to hide, and have an inner life without a 
 hint betraying it. They act in society as do all 
 people with a proper idea of form pay not the 
 slightest attention to each other. Let us hope the 
 tone of David's letter to you was only the result of 
 a passing mood. 
 
 And now to talk of yourself. I hope you are 
 well and feel more happy now on that sleepy 
 plantation. I feel so glad when you write with 
 courage. Try not to be homesick. The sketches 
 you sent are beautiful, and you are right to keep 
 up your sketching. 
 
 You are unfair to say I don't miss you. I do 
 indeed, and think of you often. Write a happy 
 letter next time. I'll look for it. Tell me more 
 about the business, and don't be disappointed if you 
 can't make money as fast as you'd like. You are 
 sure to win if you are patient. With good wishes 
 from my heart, ANNE.
 
 Chapter XVIII 
 
 A MONEY panic not wholly un- 
 locked for fell upon the country. 
 Railroads went under, stocks fell, banks 
 failed, and in the depression ruin was 
 written after prominent names. Others, 
 while holding an apparently unchanged 
 position, had lost heavily and expected 
 the worst. 
 
 David was one of the latter. By 
 August he found himself but a little 
 way from the edge of disaster. The 
 calamity stunned him. He thought of 
 his uncalculated expenditures, of Olga's 
 insatiable demands. After seven sleep- 
 less nights he went to Newport, where ? 
 unmindful of her empty country-house 
 on the Sound, Olga had rented a cot- 
 tage. They had an interview on the 
 big terrace fronting the sea. By this 
 
 time they had reached the condition of 
 194
 
 A Circle in the Sand 195 
 
 null domesticity when they saw each 
 other as seldom as possible, and had in- 
 terviews. David was tenderly consid- 
 erate. He went into the most tiresome 
 business details, trying to simplify them 
 and make her understand. She scarcely 
 listened. He knew that by the expres- 
 sion of her quiet eyes. He urged the 
 need of economy. She shrugged her 
 shoulders with a tolerant smile, but 
 offered no resistance when he spoke of 
 selling the country-house on Long Isl- 
 and and the eccentric stable. Secretly 
 she was tired of them both. 
 
 " It seems immensely stupid to let 
 your affairs get so muddled," she said, 
 in her soft voice ; " but you'll pull out 
 all right. Men always do." 
 
 " You don't understand, Olga. This 
 is no passing breeze. We are in the 
 midst of a storm, and how it will end 
 God alone knows. The ' Citizen ' is 
 safe. I am the heaviest stockholder 
 there, and if the worst comes I can sell 
 my interest." 
 
 " But the worst won't come," she
 
 196 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 said slowly, and looked up at him from 
 under her shady hat with an expression 
 not unlike hatred. 
 
 " You'd better face now what might 
 be. I hardly know where I stand." 
 
 He spoke coldly. He was antago- 
 nized by her tranquil selfishness when 
 he remembered his nights of suspense. 
 
 " But you'll come out of it all right," 
 she quietly insisted. " Fortunes go up 
 and down. Other men have been in 
 awkward places lots of times, but they 
 have managed to escape unhurt, and 
 you must do the same. Bertie Ogden 
 was telling me only the other day that 
 when things were lively in Wall street, 
 and some men failed, it was the time 
 for others to seize the opportunity and 
 make money. He said it was like 
 vultures battening on a wounded bird. 
 Suppose you batten a little, David? Or 
 are you too conscientious? I wish I 
 understood business. I'd tell you what 
 to do." 
 
 She stood up and shook out her 
 mauve lace-ruffled skirt. He saw she
 
 A Circle in the Sand 197 
 
 was pale to the lips. After the kiss of 
 greeting she had not touched him or 
 spoken one word of comfort or cour- 
 age. And he hoped for these things 
 still from her, though since she bore 
 his name she had taken no pains to 
 cheat him. 
 
 " One needs money to seize the 
 chance of standing in a fallen man's 
 place," he said, trying to be patient. 
 "What if I have none? If I paid our 
 tremendous debts, which a few months 
 ago it seemed only consistently fashion- 
 able to accumulate, I'd have scarcely 
 anything but my interest in the paper 
 left. Do you quite realize now where 
 we stand? Do you know what it costs 
 to live as we've been living? I've 
 been very generous with you, Olga. 
 You can't say I've denied you any- 
 thing, even when I should, perhaps." 
 
 " Generous ? " she said, her eyelids 
 falling insolently. " I don't like that 
 word. It's out of fashion between 
 husbands and wives. When you mar- 
 ried me, what you had became mine.
 
 198 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 I spent it as my right. If you'd in- 
 terfered, you'd soon have understood 
 that I held this view." 
 
 She looked frivolous and winsome 
 as she stood in the soft light, striking 
 a long-stemmed rose against her skirt 
 as she spoke. David felt a mixed sen- 
 sation of tenderness, pity, and amuse- 
 ment seize him at the thought that 
 the right to her husband's purse was 
 the only advanced problem Olga had 
 been interested enough to attempt to 
 solve. Despite the crisis of the mo- 
 ment and his sore heart, he was dis- 
 posed to question her farther. He 
 leaned forward, letting his elbow rest 
 on his knee, and seizing the head of 
 the rose she toyed with, held her so. 
 
 " But I don't agree with you," he 
 said quietly. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose you'd have doled me 
 out dollars if you'd dared and made me 
 keep an account," she said. " Perhaps 
 that's your view." 
 
 " No. As I said before, although 
 you do not like the word, I am gener-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 199 
 
 cms. I would give you half my income, 
 or more, perhaps, but your right to it I 
 deny." 
 
 " I can't argue with you. I only 
 know what I think." 
 
 " Can't you tell me why you think 
 it?" 
 
 " Well, I married you. I've given 
 up my freedom for you, made your life 
 mine, therefore everything you possess 
 should be equally mine," she said inso- 
 lently. 
 
 " But in becoming my wife do you 
 make me your debtor?" 
 
 " Well, something of that sort." 
 
 " My dear Olga," and David looked 
 at her with wise and tender eyes, 
 " you are not the first woman who has 
 made that mistake. Just consider the 
 matter from a reasonable point of 
 view." 
 
 She looked out at sea, her face ex- 
 pressing rebellion and unbelief. 
 
 " Marriage should be a bond bring- 
 ing as much happiness to a woman as 
 to a man. I asked you to marry me
 
 200 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 because I loved you. I supposed you 
 came to me as gladly for the same 
 reason. Had I thought otherwise, 
 nothing under heaven would have made 
 me accept you as a wife. I didn't want 
 a sacrifice, I didn't want to buy you, 
 and if either of these things has hap- 
 pened I may count myself a wretched 
 man. Therefore, at the beginning, we 
 stood equal in love. Loving each 
 other, we married. We were une- 
 qually mated in regard to fortune. It 
 was all mine. Do not misunderstand me. 
 I was glad it was so. But why should 
 half what I personally possess become 
 yours, when a third or a fourth is more 
 than enough for you to be extravagant 
 upon? Perhaps because you think 
 you've made me happy? Weren't you 
 as happy to be with me ? Or perhaps 
 because you gave up your freedom to 
 share my life? That should be no loss 
 if you loved me, dear. Besides, loving 
 you, didn't I gladly surrender a wider 
 liberty ? That equal division as a right, 
 of which there's been a great deal said
 
 A Circle in the Sand 201 
 
 lately, ought, in my view, only to exist 
 under two conditions." 
 
 " I am curious to hear whrat they 
 are," said Olga scornfully. 
 
 " Where a man of fortune is mad 
 enough to buy a woman as his wife, 
 aware that she has no love for him " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 His fingers stole up the flower-stem 
 until they clasped hers wistfully. 
 
 " Or where a woman becomes a 
 mother," he said very softly. " Olga, 
 the woman who accepts and makes 
 beautiful this responsibility might rightly 
 command not half, but all, her husband's 
 fortune, though she had been a beggar- 
 maid and he a king. They are not equal 
 there. Then she has sacred rights. She 
 becomes a divine mystery. Then he 
 might well worship her. His heart's 
 blood should not be too precious to 
 spend for her. Do you understand me, 
 dear?" 
 
 She suffered his fingers to cling to 
 hers while she continued to look at the 
 sea. There was prayer in the hand-
 
 2O2 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 clasp. He was trying to read her 
 thoughts. Her bosom stirred a little 
 under its laces, her eyes were almost 
 tender and doubtful. But a shade set- 
 tled upon her beautiful face, and with it 
 came decision. The rose fell from her 
 fingers. 
 
 " You go to extremes, David," she 
 said, with a tolerant smile. " When 
 we have children, later, some time or 
 other, I won't ask your heart's blood 
 nor want to be considered a mystery. 
 I'll be content with a yacht or a house 
 in London, or something thoroughly 
 practical, as you'll see. I'm going to 
 drive. Will you come?" 
 
 " No, I must go back to town to- 
 night." 
 
 " Then we've finished about this tire- 
 some money business ? " she asked, lift- 
 ing a pair of long gloves from the back 
 of a chair. 
 
 " We have if I've made you un- 
 derstand our position," and he passed 
 his hands over his face in a distracted 
 way.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 203 
 
 " You really mean we're in danger of 
 beggary?" she asked, with sudden 
 passion. "Do you mean that?" 
 
 " Must I go over it all again ? Don't 
 you believe me? Don't suppose I'm 
 trying to terrorize you. What I say 
 now is the simple truth, and I'll say it 
 clearly, leaving out all the technicalities 
 of a business explanation. In the pres- 
 ent crisis more than half my principal 
 has depreciated to almost nothing; a 
 good deal has been lost. Suppose the 
 rest goes ? " 
 
 He faced her. His lips were set in a 
 line of endurance, around his eyes were 
 the haggard traces of care, the thick 
 lock which fell over his forehead had a 
 grayness which aged him. It seemed 
 to him that had she been capable of 
 even a little pity she would have come 
 to him, taken his face in her hands, and 
 kissed him. 
 
 She pursed up her lips and considered 
 a moment. When she spoke quietly, 
 there was concentrated meaning in her 
 tones.
 
 204 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " I shouldn't like to be poor again. I 
 don't think I'd take that condition of 
 affairs calmly. It seems to me I'd do 
 something reckless; I don't know what." 
 
 She went to him and clasped her 
 arms, bare to the elbow, around his 
 neck. 
 
 " Do you love me at all still ? " she 
 asked earnestly. " You don't love me 
 as you used to, but do you love me at 
 all?" 
 
 He bent his lips to her wrist, and a 
 terrible sadness came into his eyes. 
 
 " I love you, dear. I want to save 
 you from pain." 
 
 "Then don't become a poor man, 
 David. Don't, in God's name! Do 
 anything to get the money back," she 
 said, moved out of herself for the first 
 time. " I've had poverty all my life, all 
 my life. Oh, how I loathe it ! Yes, I 
 loathe it ! You think me selfish. I know 
 you do, and I am. But I wouldn't really 
 harm you nor hurt you if I can have 
 an easy life and not the gall of poverty 
 again. I'm not a great woman, nor a
 
 A Circle in the Sand 205 
 
 particularly good woman, but I think 
 if I were robbed of this life " and she 
 looked into the rich, dim rooms " I 
 might be a hard, bad woman. Save me 
 from that in saving yourself! " And 
 she clung to him. " Save me, David! 
 Promise you will ! " 
 
 " I promise," he said in a tone which 
 set her apart from him. 
 
 As he crossed the terrace to the open 
 window he trod on the flower lying be- 
 tween them.
 
 Chapter XIX 
 
 IT was the evening of Election Day. 
 Broadway was a jumble of Ameri- 
 can types moving under a light fog 
 which made every street-lamp a star in 
 a veil. 
 
 From the windows of the street-car 
 in which Anne sat she saw the strag- 
 gling processions giving enthusiastic 
 party cries, politicians on the corners, 
 and ragged boys racing past with 
 barrels and shutters which were to 
 blaze later in splendid impartiality, no 
 matter which side won. 
 
 It was after six o'clock, and she was 
 on her way to the " Citizen " with a 
 " special " on a timely topic David had 
 asked her to write. She could have 
 sent it down, but the idea of going to 
 the old place on this wild night when 
 
 Newspaper Row was a seat of war had 
 206
 
 A Circle in the Sand 207 
 
 been persistently with her all day. The 
 building in the upper part of the town 
 where she now spent her days was 
 quiet and had a rarefied editorial flavor. 
 It was not as dear as these slimy, 
 crowded streets, with offices as con- 
 fused as ant-hills, in nearer neighborhood 
 to the sky. Lime-light and the smell of 
 grease-paint will awaken numbed long- 
 ings in the mind of an actor who has 
 forsworn the buskin, and the same 
 fascination drew Anne to the " Citizen " 
 to-night for a taste of the old life which 
 had the savor of salt. 
 
 She left the car and made her way 
 among the crowds around the City 
 Hall. There were packed masses 
 gathered early to wait for the first 
 election signal-lights on the big build- 
 ings. There were others pressed against 
 the great newspaper barracks where 
 bulletins in black capitals told of politi- 
 cal failure or success, according to the 
 point of view. It seemed to Anne that 
 the confused noises of the warring earth 
 must at last besiege heaven as a sob.
 
 208 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 At the entrance of the " Citizen " 
 building an electric light as fierce as 
 the politics of the paper blazed upon 
 the moving crowds. It fell upon many 
 faces, all earnest, strained, or preoccu- 
 pied, and on one as familiar to Anne as 
 her hand. David was among the num- 
 ber coming down the muddy stone 
 hall, and she made her way toward 
 him. 
 
 But a second glance brought her to a 
 standstill. She read consternation and 
 despair in his changed face. As he 
 pushed his way toward the door with- 
 out a glance on either side, she waited 
 in anxiety till he should reach her and 
 she would know what grief had come 
 upon him. But his eyes met hers 
 blankly as he passed on without a word. 
 
 Anne hesitated, gazing at the angle 
 where he had disappeared; then an 
 irresistible desire to hear him speak 
 forced her back to the street. She fol- 
 lowed him, the ft special " forgotten in 
 her hand. 
 
 He was suffering from some shock,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 209 
 
 and fear made riot in her thoughts. 
 Confused ideas of unhappiness in his 
 home, disaster, the death of some one 
 dear, the loss of faith, crowded one 
 another in her mind as she hurried on 
 through the mist, her eyes upon him. 
 
 She noticed that nothing attracted 
 his attention, not the raucous cries of 
 newsboys, the arrest of a thief, nor the 
 bulletins heralding coming election 
 triumphs. Filled by a storm which 
 drew his thoughts inward, he walked 
 with unseeing eyes; and Anne followed 
 him, conscious only of the ache in her- 
 self and the desire to be near him. So 
 they swept on, two atoms in the human 
 stream, now in shadow, now in light, 
 until Newspaper Row was left well be- 
 hind and the big bridge was reached. 
 
 Anne understood the feelings which 
 had urged David here. It was the soli- 
 tude which a lighthouse lends above a 
 snarling sea. The city lay beneath a 
 pall of vapor. Light came hazily from 
 the peaked shadows of houses, seem- 
 ing from this height the pitiful abode of
 
 210 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 earth-grubbers. Search-lights from tow- 
 ers, winking rays from crimson lamps 
 on street-cars far below, wavered on 
 the fog, and the adagio of human life 
 sweeping upward was an unsyllabled 
 moaning as if from the heart of a giant 
 Tantalus. 
 
 When the street scenes were left be- 
 hind and the river raced beneath the 
 bridge, the voice was the same as the 
 city's in another key. Wave slipped 
 into wave with sighing, and the water 
 torn by churning boats gushed in a rip- 
 pling minor. 
 
 In the shade between the towers 
 David paused. He stood with folded 
 arms and looked back to where the 
 lights on the " Citizen " building flamed 
 like great stars. The pallor of his face, 
 the contracted brow, the long look full 
 of dejection, told of absolute surrender 
 to despair. 
 
 Anne watched him, while passers-by 
 eddied between them. She longed to 
 slip her hand into his, to know she was 
 desired and necessary in his life. Her
 
 A Circle in the Sand 211 
 
 throat ached, her heart went wildly out 
 to him. But all desire to make him 
 conscious of her presence left her. He 
 had come there to face his grief alone. 
 He had no need of her. She turned 
 away and left him to his implacable 
 thoughts, the solitude, and night.
 
 Chapter XX 
 
 WHEN David reached home it 
 was after eight o'clock. He 
 went at once to the library and touched 
 the bell. 
 
 "Has Mrs. Temple gone out yet?" 
 he asked the servant. 
 
 " No, sir. Mrs. Temple's dressing. 
 She's almost ready, sir." 
 
 "Ask her to stop here on her way 
 out." 
 
 He sat down before the fire. The 
 grip of his fingers upon his knees 
 showed nervous intensity; his eyes 
 were strained. 
 
 Overhead he heard Olga's light steps. 
 She was busy with pufFand powder-box 
 preparing for the part she was to play 
 at the Amateur Club that night. The 
 role was comedy. It would be altered 
 after hearing one word from his lips.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 213 
 
 He looked restlessly toward the door. 
 After his self-communing on the bridge 
 above the never-quiet river the stillness 
 of the house was tormenting; it seemed 
 waiting for the crisis ; the clock in the 
 shadow beyond the door seemed a soft- 
 tongued watcher spying upon him. 
 
 Olga would soon come, and he would 
 tell her all. She would suffer bitterly. 
 But he could feel no pity for her, none 
 for himself. He had been bitten by an- 
 guish in the foggy night with the river- 
 lights around him. Now he felt like a 
 stone. 
 
 As he heard Olga's step he rose and 
 faced the door. She came with some 
 light word of greeting on her lips, but 
 it was not spoken, and she remained in 
 an advancing pose, her eyes upon him. 
 They presented a violent contrast, creat- 
 ures of different worlds, it seemed, 
 Frivolity looking on the face of Pain. 
 
 As Lady Teazle Olga wore the gown 
 required for the quarrel scene. Laces 
 and jewels were mysteriously arranged 
 on the stiff pink brocade, her throat
 
 214 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 was like snow, and so was her high 
 coifed hair; her dreaming eyes were 
 made insinuating by a line of cosmetic; 
 a touch of carmine was on her cheeks. 
 She was radiant, dainty, alluringly false. 
 
 The night dews clung to David. 
 His hair was wet and roughened by 
 his restless fingers. Each feature was 
 sharpened from the rigors of fierce 
 emotion. His sunken eyes, which had 
 scarcely known sleep for a week, were as 
 dull as if blindness had come upon then. 
 
 " What has happened ? " Olga asked, 
 after that long, stupefied look ; and 
 there was fear in her eyes. She did 
 not move toward him. Her hand upon 
 the back of a chair seemed a carved 
 part of it. 
 
 " I've had news, Olga, news which 
 I received by a private source to-day, 
 which all the country will know to- 
 morrow, when the wheels of business 
 roar again." 
 
 " Bad news ? You speak coolly 
 enough, yet look oh, how you look! 
 Have you seen a ghost?"
 
 A Circle in the Sand 215 
 
 She roused herself and went nearer 
 the fire, but her curious eyes kept 
 watch upon him. 
 
 " I have seen a ghost," David said, in 
 the same slow tones; "one I've long 
 feared." 
 
 " What do you mean ? You are 
 ridiculous." 
 
 " I faced the ghost of myself, Olga, 
 for a bitter hour to-night " and he 
 drew her quickly to him " the ghost 
 of what I must be in the future. It has 
 no likeness to my past or present self. 
 In making its acquaintance I suffered, 
 but I had to accept it, and so must you, 
 dear, so must you." 
 
 She paled under her rouge and her 
 eyes were frightened. She let him lift 
 her passive arms and kiss her tenderly, 
 and still by her half-dazed glance he 
 knew she was waiting for the confirma- 
 tion of her fears. 
 
 " Olga, many fortunes were lost to-day. 
 Men rich yesterday are poor to-night. 
 My dear, my dear, I'm so sorry for you, 
 so sorry to say it, I am one of them."
 
 216 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 "Poor?" The word came slowly, 
 and she drew away, her brow bent like 
 a child's over a task. He could see the 
 pulse going rapidly in her throat, but 
 other than this she displayed no feeling. 
 
 "So we are poor?" she said more 
 emphatically. " Will you tell me about 
 it? I hardly think I realize it. It 
 doesn't seem possible." 
 
 She seated herself at the table and 
 took her chin into the embrace of her 
 palm. As she did so the diamonds on 
 her wrists and fingers flashed under her 
 eyes. She spread both hands on her 
 knees and thoughtfully gazed at them. 
 Poor, while these stones made her flesh 
 radiant, and laces holding years of the 
 workers' lives rested under her fingers. 
 It seemed impertinent, impossible. Yet 
 she knew it was true, and in her own 
 way faced the inevitable. 
 
 "Tell me just what you mean," she 
 said with composure. " What have 
 you lost, and how?" 
 
 He went into minute particulars so 
 that no part of the truth should be
 
 A Circle in the Sand 217 
 
 hidden from her. He told her all as 
 gently as possible, but held out no false 
 hopes. It was an account of irremedi- 
 able failure. 
 
 " And why did you go into these 
 ventures, risk so much?" Olga asked, 
 a judicial light in her eyes. 
 
 "In an effort to be too rich," and 
 folding his arms he nodded sadly at her. 
 " You remember the day at Newport," 
 he continued, " when you begged me 
 to leave nothing undone in trying to 
 get back what I'd lost? I tried to keep 
 my promise to you, Olga, and I failed." 
 
 " Do you mean there is nothing left? 
 You own the paper?" she asked impa- 
 tiently, and added, with something of 
 desperation, " don't you own the 
 paper?" 
 
 " No, I hold the controlling interest, 
 but I must sell it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " To pay debts mine, yours. There 
 are plenty of them." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " Then we'll have to learn courage."
 
 218 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " I mean," she said distinctly, " what 
 will you do after you let the ' Citizen 7 
 go? You haven't any tools to sharpen; 
 you haven't any trade to fall back on, 
 have you ? " 
 
 Instead of noticing the mockery of 
 her voice he said simply: 
 
 " Oh, but I have ! I've thought it all 
 out. Journalism is my trade. I'll ask 
 for the managing editor's post when I 
 sell out, and I'll get it." 
 
 " How interesting, David ! What 
 salary goes with that work ? " 
 
 " Four thousand a year." 
 
 She received the words in silence 
 and stared into the fire. David, smart- 
 ing in the grip of an unshared sorrow, 
 stood like an alien on his own hearth. 
 Never had he read her so success- 
 fully. How little he ever was to her 
 to-night, nothing. She had never loved 
 anything in the world except herself. 
 She never would. It was torment to ex- 
 pect from her more than she could give. 
 And yet she was so convincingly fair to 
 believe her cold made nature a liar.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 219 
 
 As he watched her his heart grew 
 heavier with a new defeat. She was 
 his wife. At a moment like this they 
 should not sit apart with unspoken 
 thoughts. He no longer dwelt upon 
 her selfishness. He put away the 
 philosophy which counselled him to ex- 
 pect nothing from her. He only knew 
 that to make the dark future bearable 
 they must face it hand in hand. He 
 moved nearer to her, longing to make 
 her meet his eyes and become one with 
 him in soul during this hour of tempest. 
 The impulse shrank back, wounded, 
 when she looked up and laughed. 
 
 " Do you know what I've been think- 
 ing of ? " she asked. " I've been keep- 
 ing my first account book in fancy 
 just how we can live on your four 
 thousand a year instead of fifty. I be- 
 came quite familiar with the apartment 
 we'll have, the two maids, the one wine 
 at dinner. I've allowed myself about 
 three really good gowns with silk lin- 
 ings, and I could see you in the evening 
 clothes of last year's cut. Isn't it funny,
 
 220 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 David? Isn't it all deadly funny?" 
 She pressed her hands upon her excited 
 eyes and laughed again. 
 
 When David could speak, he closed 
 his hand nervously on her shoulder and 
 bent over her. 
 
 " Don't say such things," he said. 
 " Oh, don't. This is an hour to bring 
 us closer. Olga, it changes all our 
 lives. It must change us, too. Can't 
 you see that? Can't you see how we 
 must help each other now?" 
 
 " Of course, it will change every- 
 thing," she said quietly. 
 
 " But I want it to change us, Olga," 
 he prayed. " Listen, dear, listen! We'll 
 not have so much to crowd out love and 
 the peace of home, without which no life 
 is happy. Let us come nearer, dear, and 
 be to each other now what we've never 
 been, even in the early days of our mar- 
 riage." 
 
 When David had felt himself master 
 of his fate, a plea like this would have 
 been impossible. But defeat had un- 
 nerved and humbled him. Olga, what-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 221 
 
 ever she was, was all he had, and in 
 broken pride he was weak enough to 
 crave a tone, a look, rich in the felicity 
 of a grief shared. He had not realized 
 his loneliness until he permitted the 
 want to take expression, but once un- 
 leashed the desire for sympathy was 
 like the grip of thirst. 
 
 He flung himself on his knees beside 
 her and held her close. 
 
 " Oh, Olga, my dear, come to me 
 won't you ? You've seemed to need me 
 little, you've seemed cold, yet you loved 
 me in the beginning. Our life had a 
 promise then it hasn't kept. Can we 
 find the best now, Olga, when other 
 things are gone? Oh, can we find it?" 
 he cried in bitter longing. 
 
 The words thrilled through Olga. 
 She felt an awe of him. His soul, it 
 seemed, a stranger, looked through his 
 miserable eyes, awaiting her reply. 
 
 " You loved me when you married 
 me, Olga. My wife, you love me now. 
 Tell me so, tell me so!" 
 
 " Why, yes, you foolish fellow, I love
 
 222 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 you, of course," she said, gently touch- 
 ing his face with her fingers. 
 
 She glanced sideways at the clock. It 
 was half-past nine. Fortunately she had 
 dressed early, as the scene in which she 
 was to appear would not begin until 
 after ten. It would be necessary to go 
 soon, yet with David in this unusual 
 mood she feared to speak of the engage- 
 ment which he evidently did not think 
 of, despite her strange costume. 
 
 His heavy eyes looked into hers. He 
 had flung away his unimpeachable re- 
 serve in humbly praying for her love, 
 and Olga dimly realized how much he 
 must have suffered before this possibility 
 was reached. The thought even crossed 
 her mind that it would be marvellous 
 and might be an agreeable sensation to 
 love a man as her husband desired to 
 have her love him, so that, ruined, she 
 might be his hope and exult in this, 
 though everything else was lost. There 
 were women in the world who loved 
 men that way. She had often heard so. 
 
 " You shall have what you want, my
 
 A Circle in the Sand 223 
 
 dear; yes, just as much as I can give 
 you," David whispered, his head on her 
 shoulder, his lips on her throat. " It 
 won't be so hard for me to do without 
 things. I'll work, too. In a few years I 
 may make some lucky stroke and 
 then life will go more easily. Just 
 let's stand by each other and be happy 
 in spite of all." 
 
 " In spite of all," Olga echoed, an 
 unnoticed frown passing over her brow 
 when the clock struck the half hour 
 after nine. 
 
 " You didn't know the suspense I 
 suffered from, Olga," David went on, 
 finding it necessary to ease his reawak- 
 ened pain by talking of it. " There were 
 days when I saw doom sidling to me 
 and knew in my soul there was nothing 
 to be done to keep it back nights 
 when I walked the floor forecasting the 
 future. Why, when the terrible truth 
 came upon me to-day it should have 
 been no stranger. I had faced it many 
 times in fancy. But I must have hoped 
 without knowing it, for it was a blow."
 
 224 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 She felt him shudder. He held her 
 more closely and closed his eyes. 
 
 " I am so dazed and sick from it all," 
 he said, " but now the worst is over, for 
 I've told you, dear. I hated to tell you. 
 It seemed a cruel thing to do. You 
 don't blame me, do you ? " 
 
 " No, you couldn't help it," she said 
 softly. 
 
 He snatched at the words hopefully. 
 
 " I couldn't," he said, " oh, indeed I 
 couldn't! I did all for the best. Oh, 
 yes, I'm glad the telling is over, Olga! 
 And we've made a compact, haven't 
 we? We'll stand by each other and 
 love each other better, won't we ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, yes." 
 
 "Oh, I am glad!" 
 
 The last words were heavy with ex- 
 haustion, and a hope animated Olga. 
 She kissed him on the lips and said as 
 if she were speaking to a child : 
 
 " You are worn out, dear." 
 
 " It seems a year since I have slept," 
 said David. " I could sleep now." 
 
 " Suppose I call Robbins and tell him
 
 A Circle in the Sand 225 
 
 to get your bath and bed ready. You 
 need a good sound sleep to set you up. 
 Shall I tell him?" 
 
 " No, no," he said drowsily. " Don't 
 go away from me." 
 
 " But you should get some sleep, 
 David. You look awful." 
 
 " Let me stay here. You're so soft 
 and warm and sweet." 
 
 With a sigh he laid his head upon her 
 knee and lifted her cool hand to his eye- 
 lids. She passed the other very gently 
 across his forehead and let the fingers 
 move lightly in his hair. 
 
 " So ! " he murmured. " Oh, this is 
 peace, peace, rest" 
 
 The room became silent. Olga looked 
 from David's haggard profile on her 
 knee to the hands of the clock, stealing 
 on relentlessly. If she left at ten sharp, 
 she would be in time. The pupils of her 
 eyes had grown large from excitement. 
 A small, intensely scarlet spot burned 
 unusually on her cheeks. She felt a 
 desire to shriek, to get into the air at 
 once. But with the remarkable purpose
 
 226 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 which had never failed her she kept the 
 meaningless smile on her lips as she 
 trailed her fingers over David's fore- 
 head. 
 
 The stillness deepened. There were 
 no sounds save the clock's tick and 
 David's even breathing. Sometimes a 
 cab rattled by. A laugh, a footstep, the 
 distant call of a newsboy shouting news 
 of the election, disturbed without dispel- 
 ling the dead quiet. 
 
 It seemed a weary time to Olga before 
 David's hold on her hand that shielded 
 his eyes loosened. She watched his 
 fingers slip down his cheek, his arm fall 
 to his side. She bent over him and 
 listened to the deep, weighted breaths 
 telling of an exhausted body. Her task 
 was done. Sleep, as inexorable as death, 
 conquered him for the time. 
 
 Olga gently lifted his head, and with 
 no sound save the rustle of her crisp 
 skirt slid from beneath the pressing 
 shoulders. With the same caution she 
 lowered his cheek to the leather hollow 
 of the chair. She stood above him,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 227 
 
 holding her breath, waiting. There 
 was nothing to fear. The face on 
 which oblivion had set its mark stared 
 up at her. She gave a short sigh 
 of satisfaction, lifted gloves and cloak, 
 and retreating backward reached the 
 door. For a second she paused, a bit 
 of brilliant coloring against the curtains. 
 They closed after her, and David was 
 alone. 
 
 As if at that moment a meddlesome 
 spirit had whispered the truth to him 
 in a dream, he sighed deeply and throw- 
 ing his arms upward made a pillow of 
 them. Unconsciously his body had 
 assumed the pose of one who had said 
 good-by to hope.
 
 Chapter XXI 
 
 AFTER this David made no further 
 attempts to "win or soften Olga. 
 When a servant awakened him hours 
 later, he had accepted not only the 
 knowledge of her desertion, but the re- 
 iterations of his sick heart : "Useless! 
 Hopeless!" He would never cheat 
 himself again. Olga had been wholly 
 consistent with his estimate of her. 
 The folly of hoping too much had been 
 his. 
 
 In the dark days following this ac- 
 cepted realization of failure he was cold 
 and silent. He was gentle with Olga, 
 but he lived within himself, and his 
 heart was like a stone. He could feel a 
 pity for her occasional outbreaks of dis- 
 appointment and rage, but a capability 
 of actively regretting what he had lost 
 
 seemed dead. The changes following 
 228
 
 A Circle in the Sand 229 
 
 within two months found him com- 
 plaisant. 
 
 The town-house was sold, together 
 with everything else, and for the time 
 being, at Olga's request, they made 
 their home with her father. When 
 the " Citizen " passed into other hands, 
 David retained his editorial position 
 as an employee. 
 
 This latter sacrifice was a bitter one. 
 Had he permitted himself to dwell upon 
 it his hours at the familiar desk would 
 have been tinctured with anguish. But 
 he had a force in him, a grandeur of 
 spirit, that made defeat imposing. Even 
 Anne might have been deceived by his 
 unchanged manner but for the one night 
 of self-betrayal when she had stood on 
 the bridge, silent, within reach of his 
 hand. 
 
 She went frequently to Dr. Ericsson's 
 during these trying days. Life there 
 was like a creature which had received 
 a blinding blow between the eyes and 
 stood dazed, miserably uncertain on 
 which path to advance. 

 
 230 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 Mrs. Ericsson had a grievance against 
 fate, but fate was too impersonal for 
 attacks. It was more satisfying to pour 
 her regrets and accusations into ears 
 which heard. She was like a gnat, 
 never stinging deep, never alighting on 
 the same spot twice, yet stinging always. 
 
 " After all my hopes, my work, 
 look where we are ! " she said once, 
 her head nodding in nervous agitation, 
 her furtive eyes glancing over Olga's 
 impassive face and restful body. " The 
 nights I've lain awake, planning, hop- 
 ing! You can't say I left anything un- 
 done. If ever a woman slaved to 
 settle a daughter well " 
 
 " You ought to be satisfied then," 
 said Olga amiably; "you have reason 
 to pat yourself on the back. Why do 
 you run on this way? No one is 
 blaming you." 
 
 " Oh, if you'd only married old Rod- 
 ney, or Baker! " she said desperately. 
 
 " One a fossil and the other a beast! " 
 
 " Yes, that's all very well, but they 
 had money bound down solidly the
 
 A Circle in the Sand 231 
 
 way it is in England. I never han- 
 kered for an American fortune. You 
 must admit that. They are here to- 
 day and gone to-morrow." 
 
 Her face worked for a moment in 
 silence. If Olga had met with some 
 sudden, frightful death her mother 
 could not have contemplated her with 
 more despairing anguish. Her folded 
 hands expressed defeat. She had 
 failed in her life-work. Pain, igno- 
 miny and rancor were in the thought. 
 
 " Well, make the best of things, 
 mamma." 
 
 " Oh, don't talk to me ! Words are 
 easy. The best there is no best. 
 It is all bad, horrible, maddening. 
 What on earth was David Temple 
 thinking about?" 
 
 " You don't suppose he wanted beg- 
 gary, do you ? " asked Olga plaintively. 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Olga. Can't I 
 speak? Can't I express an opinion 
 without your flying at me ? " 
 
 Olga sighed, and relieved her impa- 
 tience by kicking off her slipper.
 
 232 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 Mrs. Ericsson darted to the door, 
 but paused for a last word. 
 
 " I should think David Temple 
 would hide his head! Why, he has 
 a way with him as if he were an em- 
 peror with slaves to rush out at the 
 crook of his finger. Such conceit! 
 And yet he couldn't take care of his 
 money." 
 
 " It requires more cleverness and 
 foresight, my dear, to do that in these 
 days than to be an emperor," said Olga, 
 as if touching on a subject in which 
 she had no personal interest. 
 
 " Some day I'll let him know my 
 opinion of the whole business." 
 
 " Have you done anything else but 
 bestow your opinion on him and every 
 one else, gratis, at all hours of the day 
 and night, since our change of tune? 
 Now, have you? Oh, try to be a little 
 original, mamma! I wish you would." 
 
 Mrs. Ericsson glared at Olga's faintly 
 smiling face; but as if no words could 
 express her wrath she skipped out and 
 clapped the door loudly after her.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 233 
 
 Anne often wondered at David's 
 forbearance for Mrs. Ericsson's most 
 spiteful outbursts were levelled at him. 
 Through him, in some way, by some- 
 thing done or left undone, the money 
 for which she had worked so long 
 with Olga as a bait had been lost. 
 Olga was the wife of a poor man. 
 There was nothing worse to happen. 
 
 In the meantime Anne found herself 
 studying Olga. She mystified her more 
 completely every day. Her spasms of 
 despair, sharp and short-lived, were 
 over now. For hours she would lie 
 dreaming, her hands behind her head, 
 the faintest smile sometimes fluttering 
 around her lips. Except for a walk or 
 drive, she seemed to enjoy letting the 
 days brush by her. Dinner-hour often 
 found her lounging in the loose gown 
 of the morning. She never spoke of 
 what she thought so constantly, nor 
 what her plans were, if she had any. 
 No one questioned her, David least of 
 all. She showed no desire to found a 
 home based upon their changed condi-
 
 234 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 tions. He was willing to wait until she 
 had familiarized herself with her new 
 future, and had roused herself to active 
 interest in it. 
 
 " My dear, God lets some of us live 
 too long," Dr. Ericsson said to Anne 
 one day as she leaned over his library 
 chair. " I am one of these. I can't 
 contemplate the lives which this one 
 roof covers without a feeling of dismay 
 for the future. Better for me if I didn't 
 live to see that which I must see, I fear. 
 Oh, why weren't you my child ? " he 
 said, with longing. " You have a heart, 
 a mind, real human blood goes through 
 your arteries. You are a woman, not a 
 finely articulated piece of flesh. You 
 understand me? I wish you were my 
 child." 
 
 " Uncle, why do you say this ? You 
 make me afraid of something. Has 
 anything happened you haven't told me 
 about?" 
 
 " I'm afraid of Olga," he said shortly. 
 
 "Why? She seems not to care any 
 more," replied Anne, while she knew
 
 A Circle in the Sand 235 
 
 he was about to express some of the 
 fear she had felt without understand- 
 ing. 
 
 " That's just it: she seems not to care. 
 But she does, and I know her." He sat 
 with his eyes fixed on his veinous hand 
 as it thoughtfully tapped the table. "At 
 least when I say I know Olga I go too 
 far. But I know the signs of storm in 
 her. She is silent, thinking of what? 
 She writes a lot of letters. She always 
 goes out alone. I'm afraid of her," he 
 said with a sigh. 
 
 One gray December day near Christ- 
 mas, Anne found herself at twilight in 
 a street going eastward from Union 
 square. She had come to purchase an 
 etching which a few days before had 
 attracted her in the window of a dusty 
 basement shop; it was a study of a 
 Greek girl in profile, leaning on the rail 
 of a seat in an ancient theatre; flower- 
 crowned, with fan of peacock's feathers 
 on her knee, she seemed pensively 
 waiting for the first sonorous line of an 
 Athenian chorus. The idea of possess-
 
 236 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 ing it had stayed with Anne for days, 
 and she felt happy as she watched 
 the near-sighted old dealer wrapping 
 it up. 
 
 She was in no mood to hurry away. 
 In the shadowy place where she sat, 
 old age and dust were masters, a 
 slow-tongued clock weightily recorded 
 the ever-same moments, and on the 
 street above the basement steps a 
 human tide flowed that scarcely had 
 its equal for variety in any other city 
 on earth. Waves of Bohemianism, 
 vagabondism, beggary, mingled there, 
 accompanied by a sweeping gamut 
 of human sounds and coloring stolen 
 from many lands. 
 
 As she waited, her elbow on the 
 counter, her eyes fell upon a woman 
 descending the steps of a house op- 
 posite. It was Olga. She walked 
 hurriedly to a waiting cab. The 
 air of the fine world about her, her 
 radiant face seen in that unkempt, 
 ill-flavored byway suggested a pris- 
 matic bubble on a murky tide.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 237 
 
 Anne went toward the door, but 
 paused as she saw a man, bare-headed, 
 pen in hand, evidently a clerk, hurry 
 down the steps of the house Olga had 
 just left, and speak to her. She went 
 back with him and vanished through 
 the open doorway. 
 
 " She's very beautiful ay, isn't 
 she ? " murmured the old dealer over 
 Anne's shoulder. " There isn't a face in 
 all my portfolios to compare with hers. 
 Those heads by Greuze, that woman 
 by Botticelli, the Lady Hamilton por- 
 trait with the scarf around her head, 
 why, even the originals of these, and 
 I've seen them all, are nothing to her. 
 You think so too, don't you, miss ? " he 
 asked, enthusiasm in his dim eyes. 
 
 "You mean the lady who has just 
 gone into that house again ? " 
 
 " I've grown so that I watch for her 
 coming," he said. 
 
 Anne's heart sank. 
 
 " She comes to this street often ? " 
 
 " Two or three times a week." He 
 rubbed his dry palms together. " Oh, I
 
 238 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 am an admirer of beauty in any form, 
 man, woman, child, or horse or dog, 
 and that woman's face makes me feel 
 young again. She's a beautiful being," 
 he concluded, with old-fashioned, awed 
 respect. 
 
 For the moment Anne could not 
 speak. Her eyes rested on the cab 
 waiting for Olga, as she pondered on 
 the probable meaning of these secret 
 visits, disclosed to her by chance. 
 There was something sinister in them. 
 But she must know more, she must 
 know all. 
 
 " That looks like a business house of 
 some sort," she ventured. 
 
 " So it is, one of those theatrical 
 buildings, full of managers, agents, or 
 something. In fact, the whole street 
 just bristles with them." 
 
 Anne made an unceremonious exit. 
 Crossing the street just as Olga appeared 
 again on the threshold, they came face 
 to face under the street lamp in the 
 gusty twilight, now almost gone. 
 
 The faintest frown crossed Olga's
 
 A Circle in the Sand 239 
 
 brow, the faintest color quivered under 
 the white skin, and then retreated. Her 
 voice betrayed her; she was a little 
 breathless from surprise. 
 
 " I never dreamed of seeing you here, 
 Anne," she said. " Will you get in and 
 come with me to dinner?" 
 
 " I can't to-night. But if you have 
 time you might take me home first. It 
 wouldn't be much out of your way." 
 
 " Of course not," and she gave the 
 order. 
 
 Nothing was said, and the cab turned 
 into Broadway. The silence was elo- 
 quent with waiting. 
 
 Olga felt Anne's eyes wistfully con- 
 templating her. " Well, don't keep 
 your thoughts to yourself," she said at 
 last, with a nod and smile ; " I'm sure 
 they'll prove interesting." 
 
 In response Anne slipped her arm 
 around her waist and held her closely. 
 
 " I've no right to speak to you, Olga, 
 about your affairs, but I must risk seem- 
 ing presumptuous," she said. " By acci- 
 dent I saw you come out of that house
 
 240 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 to-day. The man in the picture-shop 
 told me you go there often. I know, 
 too, the meaning of your visits. Prom- 
 ise me you'll give up this mad idea. 
 Promise me, Olga." 
 
 A smile rippled over Olga's face. 
 
 " Why, you're white and trembling, 
 you silly, passionate Anne. What mad 
 idea? What in the world, you foolish 
 girl, do you mean ? " 
 
 " Don't go on the stage. Don't, my 
 dear, don't. It would crush David's 
 pride to the dust to have you go. Can't 
 you see ? Why, the world would think 
 he had sent you to retrieve his fortunes; 
 it would seem as if his ill-luck had 
 forced you there. No proud man could 
 endure the position " 
 
 "David! David! Always David!" 
 and Olga looked at her sharply. " Is 
 there no one in the world to be consid- 
 ered but him ? " 
 
 " Your mother. You know how she 
 would suffer." 
 
 In her earnestness she laid her cheek 
 against Olga's.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 241 
 
 " Will you listen to me will you ? " 
 
 Olga withdrew Anne's arm, but held 
 her fingers in a light clasp. 
 
 "You are such a woman, Anne ! 
 How you leap to conclusions ! My 
 dear, does it follow that I am going on 
 the stage because to break the monotony 
 of such days as I have now I go occa- 
 sionally to hear a manager make tempt- 
 ing offers which I haven't the smallest 
 intention of accepting?" and she settled 
 herself more cosily against Anne. " I'm 
 a vain creature. There's no use ignor- 
 ing the truth. It's a comfort to hear 
 myself called a genius, a modern Peg 
 Woffington, and all the rest. It gives a 
 sense of power it's refreshing. If I 
 cheat myself and cheat the manager, it's 
 a pleasure to me and seriously hurts no 
 one." 
 
 " But suppose in the end these people 
 might persuade you, Olga, might dazzle 
 you?" 
 
 " My dear, I'm not a fool. To step 
 from society to the professional stage 
 would be like challenging every narrow-
 
 242 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 minded person to hiss at you. You 
 might be gifted of God, but no one 
 would believe it, and every critic would 
 endeavor to be witty at your expense." 
 
 She nodded and looked very wise. 
 
 " No, I've gotten over the madness I 
 once had. Experience has made me 
 wise, sadder too. I see my future very 
 clearly before me, and I'm gradually 
 drifting to it, although I couldn't accept 
 it at first. I shall have to chasten my 
 desires, cultivate a penchant for a com- 
 fortable, quiet life on a few thousand 
 a year with David, found a family, and 
 take to bonnets permanently. Oh, I 
 see it," she said, with semi-humorous 
 pathos. " I am becoming resigned 
 quietly, in my own fashion. This visit 
 to Zerand, the great business Napoleon 
 of the drama, was, I promise you, my 
 last tangential flight after a bit of ex- 
 citement." 
 
 She snapped her fingers like a fare- 
 well to fancy and began to talk of other 
 things. Anne felt a sensation of relief. 
 After all, it was not as bad as she had
 
 A Circle in the Sand 243 
 
 feared. Olga had simply been feeding 
 her vanity on crumbs. She could 
 understand the pleasure it was to her 
 fanciful, shallow mind to steal away to 
 these private interviews in a back street, 
 hear herself extolled as a genius, and 
 listen to highly colored plans she dared 
 not countenance. But a little while ago 
 she had paid extravagantly for glitter 
 and show of first-class quality: to have 
 her beauty admired in a theatrical office 
 by a puffy-eyed manager, and feel a 
 ghostly wave of the lost excitement, 
 was evidently but the survival of the 
 old instincts under forlorn conditions. 
 
 Olga's kiss at parting was childish 
 and tender. 
 
 " Never breathe that you discovered 
 my silly dissipation," she said, adding 
 with a laugh, " David would be angry 
 with me shocked; and you know his 
 emotions must be preserved in tissue 
 paper, so they retain the gloss." 
 
 The door of the cab closed sharply, 
 the lamplight flickered on her white 
 brow and vivid lips as she looked back.
 
 244 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 It seemed to Anne that just for a breath's 
 space a look of defiance and determi- 
 nation crossed her eyes. It was surely 
 fancy. 
 
 During several weeks following, life 
 at the old house took on a more cheer- 
 ful color. 
 
 Olga ceased dreaming and seemed 
 satisfied. She was often the gayest of 
 companions and assumed a whimsical 
 tyranny over David vastly preferable to 
 her settled indifference. Sometimes 
 during these days her eyes had an al- 
 most celestial light in them, her smile 
 was confiding. 
 
 David almost dared hope again for 
 that which he had decided could never 
 be his. He found himself wondering 
 if she could be content with the little 
 he now had, after all; if in her own 
 fashion, which never could be antici- 
 pated, she would come to help him, 
 love him a little. He put the thought 
 from him, yet knew he was hoping; and 
 he waited. 
 
 In January, in the busy morning hours,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 245 
 
 a note was brought to Anne at the office. 
 It was from David and very short : 
 
 I hate to send you this, dear Anne. You have 
 been drawn into my misfortunes too much of 
 late. Forgive it, but I must come to you. Olga 
 has gone away at the head of a theatrical company. 
 The blow has prostrated Mrs. Ericsson, and she's 
 dangerously ill. Can you go to the house when 
 you get this ? 
 
 Anne sat with the letter in her hands, 
 conscious only of unbelief in the words 
 written there. The woman who had 
 done this thing, having smiled and lied 
 harmoniously as she made her unhur- 
 ried way to the goal of her desires, be- 
 came suddenly hateful. Anne could not 
 judge of her by herself or measure her 
 by familiar rules. Comprehension was 
 beyond her. 
 
 " A liar!" she said aloud. " A cruel 
 liar!" 
 
 The noisy streets might have been a 
 desert for all heed she took of them as 
 she hurried to Dr. Ericsson's. She was 
 absorbed in her thoughts. She knew 
 how the papers would seize on this de-
 
 246 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 parture and flourish the real and imagi- 
 nary details of David's private life under 
 big headings ; how ably Olga would assist 
 them. Soon her face would stare from 
 every shop-window and decorate to- 
 bacco signs; she would be exploited 
 by every bombastic venture dear to 
 the managerial heart. She was not one 
 to succeed by the sovereignty of talent 
 alone, and retire from the limelight to 
 privacy as exclusive as a queen's. In- 
 stinct and education made her delight 
 in the clamor of brass. Her mother 
 had been eager to advertise her socially: 
 she would trumpet herself profession- 
 ally. 
 
 When Anne entered her aunt's bed- 
 room, a pang of remorse shot through 
 her heart. Mrs. Ericsson's nervous 
 vigilance and activity had often irri- 
 tated her, but now her outflung arms ex- 
 pressed apathy, her small shrunken face 
 was almost hidden in the bulging pillow, 
 and her eyes stared at one spot. She 
 was in a sort of syncope. It seemed bru- 
 tal that all the physician's efforts were to
 
 A Circle in the Sand 247 
 
 bring her out of it to a realization of 
 Olga's decisive arrow, which had struck 
 at and levelled even the ruins of her 
 hopes. 
 
 It was dusk before the nurse came 
 and Anne could leave the sick-room. 
 She was tired and her head ached. In 
 the hall she met a maid and asked for 
 a cup of tea. 
 
 " Shall I fetch it to the doctor's study, 
 Miss Garrick? Mr. Temple's there 
 now. He's just got in. Perhaps he'd 
 like a cup of tea too." 
 
 " Yes, and Dr. Ericsson hasn't he 
 come back yet?" 
 
 " Not yet, miss." 
 
 There was not a sound in the house 
 as Anne went down the stairs, nor were 
 the lamps yet lit in the study, but there 
 was bright firelight coming out in a 
 broadening track across the open door- 
 way. When she reached the threshold 
 she saw David sitting on the edge of the 
 big table, his hands in his pockets, his 
 eyes on the fire. 
 
 She reached his side before he was
 
 248 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 aware of her presence; when he turned 
 and saw the firelight making her dark 
 eyes still more mysterious, sending its 
 flickerings over her sensitive lips and 
 the dusk masses of her hair, a look of 
 pain changed his face* Truth and sym- 
 pathy were in her full glance. It was 
 long since a woman's eyes had looked at 
 him so. 
 
 "You're so pale," he said gently, 
 taking her hand. " I'm sorry I had to 
 send for you, Anne, but Mrs. Ericsson 
 needs a woman near her. Don't you 
 think so ? But as I told you in my note, 
 I feel like a brute dragging you into 
 this wretched house." 
 
 His fingers loosened their hold, and 
 he walked into the shadows and out 
 again. There was a look of endurance 
 on his face. He had never seemed 
 braver, and never had his unlikeness to 
 Donald stood out more clearly. She 
 could always yearn over the misfort- 
 unes of the latter. For David she could 
 feel only a sad sense of wrath against 
 the inevitable crushing him. He was
 
 A Circle in the Sand 249 
 
 a man to dominate his sorrows and carry 
 them unshared. 
 
 " How is Mrs. Ericsson?" he asked. 
 
 " Still unconscious. It's so strange to 
 see her lying quiet." 
 
 " It's just as well," he said sadly. 
 " Bitterness is waiting for her, poor 
 woman ! " Then he added abruptly, 
 " Have you seen the papers to-night? " 
 
 "No; is it" 
 
 " Yes, it's everywhere. They all have 
 it, except, of course, the ( Citizen.' It 
 hurts me so, Anne ! Oh, I'm a fool to 
 let it, I know that! I'll have to endure 
 more sensational reading by and by, no 
 doubt." 
 
 Anne sat silent, and he turned to her 
 again. 
 
 " Haven't you heard the story, Anne ? 
 It's a pity," he said, with a dismal smile. 
 " You have been cheated out of a tooth- 
 some morsel of gossip. It's the dinner 
 topic at plenty of houses to-night." 
 
 He sat down on the table-edge again 
 and leaned forward, his hands on his 
 knees.
 
 250 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 " Olga went away three days ago to 
 pay a visit to one of her former inti- 
 mates. She was to be gone a week. 
 Last night I received a letter from her. 
 It was as serene as her eyes. She was 
 going, she said, to make a great name 
 for herself on the stage. The company 
 she headed would play only old come- 
 dies, was going straight to San Fran- 
 cisco, from there to Australia, and would 
 appear next fall in New York. If I 
 wished, she would in this way set me 
 on my feet again. This was her naive 
 suggestion. If I objected, some Western 
 court would sever our bonds on the 
 simple charge of desertion. But she 
 must persist under any circumstances 
 in using my name merely because of 
 its business value, since she had already 
 made it famous in society and on the 
 amateur stage. Probably this was the 
 only time she viewed the loss of my 
 fortune complacently, since it would 
 help to give a commercial strength to 
 the name Temple when seen in capitals 
 on a bill-board. Temple ! the name of
 
 A Circle in the Sand 251 
 
 the beauty stepping from the drawing- 
 room to the footlights, the name of the 
 man who went down under the thunder- 
 bolt of ruin ! Why, there's meat for a 
 reporter in the two syllables. Don't 
 you think so ? They may even illustrate 
 me," he laughed, his eyes bright with 
 contempt. " The letter ended with the 
 politic hope that I'd be sensible and not 
 kick up a row. Well, I haven't. I've 
 been sensible. But I spent part of to- 
 day in becoming better acquainted with 
 my wife. I was curious to know how 
 she developed her plans. I'll tell you 
 what I learned." 
 
 He stood up before Anne and struck 
 his finger with emphasis on his open 
 palm. 
 
 " From the hour she knew of my 
 failure she has covertly, determinedly, 
 bent every effort toward the taking of 
 this step. The manager would not star 
 her without heavy security. Then Olga 
 showed what resources lay within her. 
 Smedley Joyce and a few others among 
 her old followers have at her sugges-
 
 252 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 tion backed the undertaking as a good 
 business venture. They knew all about 
 it. And I, ignorant, blind, sat opposite 
 Joyce at the Harvard alumni dinner 
 the other night. I didn't dream I was 
 facing my wife's i angel.' You don't 
 know what that means. Neither did I 
 until to-day. The man who backs a 
 play earns that heavenly title. Smedley 
 Joyce is at present an i angel,' though a 
 stout one, I grant." 
 
 (t What will you do ? " asked Anne 
 heavily. "Will you bring her back? 
 You might perhaps." 
 
 " I shall not try," he said clearly. 
 " I'll do nothing but endeavor to live as 
 if I'd never seen her. It won't be hard." 
 A dark look crossed his face. " If 
 circumstances could by any possibility 
 arise in the future tending to soften me 
 toward her, to make me a fool again, I'd 
 only have to think of this one thing: 
 her gentlest mood, most impulsive ca- 
 ress, and her only promise for a happy 
 future home together were given the 
 night before she went away, when her
 
 A Circle in the Sand 253 
 
 railroad ticket was in her purse. This 
 thought would make me a stone." 
 
 Anne watched him thoughtfully and 
 understood him. Olga had practised a 
 cheap deception from first to last. Her 
 unmasking had only aroused disgust 
 and bitterness in him. To feel either 
 grief or hate for anything as gaudily 
 false as this woman would be like play- 
 ing some of the most despairing strains 
 in " Faust " on a penny trumpet. 
 
 The maid entered with tea, and they 
 had it in the firelight while the shadows 
 played between them. Anne's heart 
 beat painfully and hard. David began 
 to feel a peace enfold him. This was 
 their first talk alone since the winter 
 night when he had told her of his love 
 for Olga. Then all the tenor of his ecs- 
 tatic confidence was, "I love her." To- 
 night his embittered spirit had voiced 
 a different truth : " She has gone, lei- 
 surely and coldly, out of my life forever. 
 She brought nothing into it: she takes 
 nothing away."
 
 Chapter XXII 
 
 ANNE had entered Dr. Ericsson's 
 house as a member of the family. 
 No one had urged her to go, but she 
 had come to see the necessity of it. 
 After a long illness her aunt had come 
 back to only a quiescent consciousness 
 of life and with body partly paralyzed. 
 The reins of government had fallen 
 from her hands forever, and a woman 
 was needed by her side. Anne did not 
 renounce work to be with her, but she 
 condensed it into as few hours as possi- 
 ble and spent her leisure in the Waverly- 
 place house. 
 
 She had found it hard to be unselfish 
 and go, particularly when she knew 
 David had insisted on remaining there 
 and assuming the duties of a son toward 
 the old man he loved and the woman he 
 pitied. She had struggled with her own 
 254
 
 A Circle in the Sand 255 
 
 heart and had beaten down her pride 
 only after a hard fight. Daily compan- 
 ionship with David Temple was the 
 last thing in the world she desired, and 
 she loved her free life as she loved the 
 sunlight. But there was nothing else to 
 be done. Mrs. Ericsson's apathy was a 
 plea mingling with the voice within her 
 which commanded in the name of duty. 
 If only selfishly, for her own peace, she 
 obeyed it. 
 
 More than a year had passed. It had 
 grown to be a right and natural thing to 
 Anne to meet David at breakfast and 
 pour coffee for him, to watch for his 
 coming at night. At first this had 
 seemed unbearable, impossible, but 
 habit is coercing and inflexible and 
 women are adaptable. She even man- 
 aged not to be discontented, though she 
 lived in a dull atmosphere, in a quiet 
 house where three disappointed lives 
 drifted on. 
 
 Olga's name was never heard. Mrs. 
 Ericsson, calm, almost mindless, sat all 
 day by the window of her room, her
 
 256 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 eyes fastened on the street. She seemed 
 watching for some one; she always 
 looked out. The attitude had become 
 mechanical long after a realization of the 
 reason for it had died. It was the expres- 
 sion of the passive desire in her maimed 
 brain to watch for Olga's return. David 
 worked harder than ever, apparently 
 unchanged save that he was more ret- 
 icent. Dr. Ericsson's practice was but 
 a name, and he looked an aged man. 
 
 As was expected, the newspapers 
 had made a sensational heroine of Olga. 
 Soon after her departure photographs 
 of her from San Francisco had found 
 their way to Broadway windows and 
 reported interviews with her had been 
 wired to New York papers. These 
 were highly colored and probably false. 
 Gossip tossed her name like a shuttle- 
 cock from one to another. 
 
 As an actress she had not met with 
 emphatic success. At first people went 
 to see her in great crowds because 
 she was the well-known Eastern belle; 
 they went a second time because she
 
 A Circle in the Sand 257 
 
 was a beauty. Soon her vogue lessened. 
 It is one thing to be a rich woman dab- 
 bling in a profession, another thing to 
 enter the market and strive with prac- 
 tical workers. The criticism aroused 
 was different too. Olga had found this 
 out. She had been too ambitious. 
 With all her natural talent she was still 
 unformed, really fit only to interpret 
 the rudiments of her art, and what had 
 seemed praise-compelling in fashion- 
 able New York, where gloved hands 
 awarded the affirmation of success, 
 was merely promising, sometimes im- 
 pertinent, where people paid money at 
 a box-office to see a stranger. 
 
 Many things that must have stung 
 David were said of her in every paper 
 except his own. But even to Anne's 
 eyes he was impassive. He went into 
 the world, particularly the society of 
 men and clubs, as much as formerly, 
 and those who found pleasure in dis- 
 cussing his affairs behind his back were 
 careful to read the hint in his attitude, 
 and offer neither sympathy nor advice.
 
 258 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 May was almost spent. At the cor- 
 ners of the streets barrel organs churned 
 antiquated love-songs; sparrows built 
 their nests in the weakly budding trees ; 
 wagons heaped with growing plants 
 halted at area gates; the crannies be- 
 tween the paving-stones held spears of 
 grass as strengthless as the down on a 
 boy's lip. 
 
 On a warm night Anne took a han- 
 som to one of the big studio buildings 
 on upper Fifth avenue, to attend a din- 
 ner given by a celebrated artist just 
 over from Paris on a visit to his native 
 land. 
 
 A brilliant fourteen sat down at the 
 round table, and she found herself be- 
 tween the athletic young novelist who 
 took her in and an Australian capitalist. 
 As dessert came on there was a lull in 
 the entertaining nonsense and piquant 
 discussions between herself and her 
 dinner companion, and she listened to 
 the scraps of conversation around her. 
 The name " Temple," spoken in soft, 
 amused, scornful accents by the Austra-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 259 
 
 lian, reached her. His big, bald head 
 was turned from her, but owing to his 
 slow, distinct utterance she could hear 
 almost every word. He was speaking 
 of Olga. 
 
 " They fade quickly, those very pale 
 blondes, don't you think ? Excitement 
 and what not have spoiled a very pretty 
 woman in Mrs. Temple. A shocking 
 failure she is, too. In Melbourne, 
 where she tried to force Parthenia 
 down our throats, I assure you she was 
 laughed at. A playful little kitten style 
 of woman in a comedy is as much as she 
 should have attempted. These people 
 never can measure their ability. After 
 years and years of work and work she 
 might have attempted strong parts, but, 
 Lord, not now ! " 
 
 " She was considered a great beauty 
 here and a very good actress," came 
 from the listener on the other side. 
 
 " Of course, of course. I fancy when 
 she had everything her own way and 
 didn't have to fag she was healthy and 
 probably a beauty. But she's down on
 
 260 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 her luck. She's anaemic, too, or that 
 dead-white glassy skin of hers means 
 arsenic " 
 
 " Oh, I assure you, no ! She was 
 always as white as milk." 
 
 " Then she's organically unsound, 
 bloodless, and she hasn't the stuff in 
 her to last. They say she has hys- 
 terics like insanity, and her temper's 
 frightful. I know for a positive fact 
 she boxed her coachman's ears in Mel- 
 bourne." 
 
 " Really ! And she always seemed 
 so amiable ! I can't fancy her even 
 disturbed." 
 
 " Disappointment, my dear lady, is 
 like a blistering sun on the sweetest 
 milk sure to turn it sour, eh ? " 
 
 " She appeared in London last month. 
 The reports say she was a failure 
 there." 
 
 " One hasn't much ' go ' playing a 
 losing game. It will be a good thing 
 for the society woman who talks and 
 thinks nothing but stage, stage, stage, 
 to remember one thing the vast dif-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 261 
 
 ference between playing to the big, 
 cold-hearted public, whose eyes are all 
 strabismus, and playing to Tom, Dick, 
 and Harry, with whom she has dined, 
 flirted, or had five o'clock tea. The 
 public is a bull-dog. If it doesn't get 
 what it wants or expects, it bites." 
 
 During her drive home the words 
 she had heard stayed with Anne, but 
 insisted on remaining beyond her be- 
 lief. Olga pitied, ridiculed, faded, 
 she who had been so secure, so envied! 
 And but little more than a year had 
 gone ! 
 
 She sat with wide, speculative eyes, 
 watching the sentinel-like lamps flash 
 past, and tried to picture Olga as she 
 had been described. Failure had come 
 and bitterness had followed. Exhaust- 
 ing travel, nervous days and nights, and 
 the pains of wounded vanity had done 
 the rest. Prosperity and confidence in 
 herself had been the qualities forming 
 a foundation for Olga's winning un- 
 concern and amiability. With defeat, 
 with struggle, the real nature had peered
 
 262 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 like an ugly face from behind a mask 
 and left her a bitter, turbulent woman, 
 a logical development of the peevish 
 child who scratched. 
 
 The house was wrapped in slumber 
 when Anne reached it. But she knew 
 by the light left burning in the library 
 that David had not yet returned. For 
 several days she had only seen him in 
 the mornings. 
 
 She went to her aunt's room to see 
 if she slept or needed anything. The 
 light burned low and made big shad- 
 ows among the bed-curtains, the air 
 was sweet with the odor of lilacs, and 
 a cool wind swept like a sigh through 
 the place. 
 
 Anne tiptoed to the bed and looked 
 at the small, huddled figure, the hands 
 lying palms upward on the counter- 
 pane, the face turned sideways, resting 
 on the shoulder in the attitude of 
 watching which had become habitual. 
 She brushed a lock of hair from the 
 wet brow, placed the big fan, which 
 had fallen, within reach of her hand,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 263 
 
 and crept out, Olga's face haunting 
 her. 
 
 A few nights later a letter came to 
 Anne by the last post. It was from 
 London, and she recognized Olga's 
 handwriting. It was the first she had 
 received since her departure. She 
 carried it up to her own room, and 
 even after the door was closed she 
 hesitated with it in her hand, fearing 
 what was written within it. 
 
 When she drew it from its cover she 
 read these words: 
 
 MY DEAR ANNE : You've had very hard 
 thoughts of me, I know. You never wrote to 
 me yourself, and in the brief notes received from 
 father there was no message from you. How- 
 ever, I'm going to ask you to let my humiliation 
 brush all these thoughts from your mind, for I am 
 humiliated, and it is bitter to say it, I can tell 
 you. I've failed. There's no use mincing words 
 or beating around the bush. I've failed, and I'm 
 ill, very ill. Nobody seems to know just what's 
 the matter with me, and I don't much care. I'm 
 probably dying, and that doesn't matter either. 
 But just now I've a longing to go home. I have 
 heart enough for that. I know mamma is all 
 broken up, but still I keep thinking how pleasant
 
 264 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 it would be to lie in my cool green room and 
 have her fuss around me as she used to do when I 
 had a cold or a headache. There's a comfort in 
 this, and in feeling that no matter what I've done 
 I do belong to mamma and she'd never give me 
 the cold shoulder. 
 
 But then, as I said, I hear she's not as she was, 
 and perhaps no one else would care to see me at 
 home. Do you think David would take me back ? 
 I don't expect his forgiveness, nor that he could 
 the least bit regard me as he used to do. But he 
 may forgive me enough to let me go back to my 
 home, which is his now. I want to go home and 
 rest, and this is all I care about. Will you ask 
 him, Anne, and write to me? I'm so tired of 
 myself. You never can know just how utterly sick 
 and weary I am. My face in the glass frightens 
 me, it is so lean and bloodless. I long so to rest, 
 to fall asleep in a safe place and not think or care 
 what the end may be. You won't believe it, 
 maybe, but I'm not a bit pretty any more. I've 
 gone off horribly. At first I minded, but I don't 
 now. Nothing seems to matter. I've had my 
 cake and eaten it. It disappointed me, and 
 there's no one to blame but myself. Cable me 
 here at "The Langham," and if I may return I'll 
 go home at once. I wish now I'd never gone on 
 the stage. But what's the use of crying when the 
 harm's done ? Do try and think kindly of me and 
 welcome me back. 
 
 OLGA.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 265 
 
 Anne read the letter twice, and the 
 picture her fancy conjured of Olga made 
 a pain rise in her throat. Of course she 
 would speak to David as soon as he 
 came in, and of course Olga would 
 return. The pity in David's heart 
 would let him receive back this wasted, 
 disappointed woman, and she would 
 scarcely remind him of the splendid 
 beauty who had failed him when he 
 needed her most. Soon Olga would be 
 home, creeping like the ghost of herself 
 through the familiar rooms. Her soft 
 step would be heard on the stairs. She 
 might be changed in soul and heart, 
 and in her weakness and defeat be to 
 David what he had longed to make her. 
 
 As Anne stood with the letter in her 
 hand she heard the street door close 
 softly. Without giving herself time to 
 think what she should say she went 
 down to the study. The full gaslight 
 poured on David as he stood by the 
 table, his chin lowered. His face was 
 more than fatigued : it was pinched, and 
 she could see a moisture on his fore-
 
 266 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 head. He looked up, but did not greet 
 her, or move. 
 
 " David," she said uncertainly, " don't 
 be angry, but I must speak to you of 
 Olga." 
 
 He drew in his breath and closed his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ah, you know, then, you know! " 
 he murmured. 
 
 " I've a letter from her." And she 
 held it out to him. " She's very ill and 
 wants to come home. . She wants me 
 to ask" 
 
 He seized the hand that held the 
 letter and looked suffering, forbidding. 
 
 "You'll let her come home here, won't 
 you? I was sure you would. She 
 seems to want nothing else; she doesn't 
 expect or ask for forgiveness" 
 
 " Oh, hush! " he said wildly and with 
 difficulty, opening his other hand and 
 showing a crushed cablegram. " I can 
 never tell her now that I would have 
 pitied her, yes, even forgiven her the 
 wrong she did me, for she's dead, Anne. 
 You can read it there. She died to-day."
 
 Chapter XXIII 
 
 IT was a wild night. An icy torrent 
 of rain was tossed by a wind which 
 seemed sent to wail over the world. 
 
 The study where David Temple sat 
 was as cheery as firelight and shaded 
 lamplight could make it. He was con- 
 scious only vaguely of the sputtering 
 coals sending up fuchsia-tinted sparks, 
 and of the furious rain shaking the 
 window casings, while his thoughts 
 wandered into dreams of other places 
 and times. 
 
 Save for the servants, he now lived 
 alone in the old Waverly-place house. 
 It was strange to sit there on this Jan- 
 uary-night and hear neither voice nor 
 footstep, to find himself listening gladly 
 to the clock's light strokes, feeling de- 
 pressed when the last vibration had 
 
 whirred into the silence. 
 267
 
 268 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 Olga had been dead six months. He 
 thought of her grave in Greenwood; her 
 mother's but the reach of an arm from 
 her the finale to a story in those two 
 mounds; of Dr. Ericsson, gone to spend 
 his last years in Sweden, in the house 
 where he was born, and which had come 
 to him a few months before through the 
 death of a brother; of Anne, but lately 
 returned to her old rooms, her life un- 
 changed. 
 
 David rose and paced the room, a line 
 creeping down between his brows. The 
 silence seemed speaking to him of Anne 
 to-night. She had been the star of his 
 life. He freely acknowledged it. She 
 had drained much of the bitterness from 
 his adversities. No man could have had 
 a more satisfying companion, a better 
 friend. These blessings had been his, 
 though they were neither his right nor 
 his reward. 
 
 He wanted to tell her this and more. 
 She had been ill, the result of a heavy 
 cold, and on the morrow would leave 
 for a holiday in the South. Something
 
 A Circle in the Sand 269 
 
 urged him not to let her leave New 
 York without expressing what she had 
 no doubt come to realize how much 
 her going from under the same roof had 
 taken from his life. 
 
 " Yes, I miss her," he said in con- 
 centrated accents as he stood still and 
 listened, with the subtler inner hearing, 
 to the silence wrapping the house. 
 
 He stepped into the hall. The gas 
 was burning brightly, but the curve of 
 the high staircase was lost in shadow. 
 He thought of how often Anne had 
 come down, humming a song. But a 
 few nights before Dr. Ericsson's de- 
 parture he remembered her hurrying 
 back halfway to say good-night to him, 
 and how her long braid of hair becom- 
 ing loosened had swept his cheek like a 
 silky lash. It had been an incident for 
 a laugh then, but now the memory of 
 her tress's touch, her hand, her eyes, 
 made him resent his loneliness. 
 
 He went into the drawing-room, but 
 came out of it quickly. It was there 
 among the teacups and in the firelight
 
 270 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 he had asked Olga to be his wife, there 
 her coffin had stood. It was a hated 
 room. Ghosts were its tenantry. 
 
 Going back to the study fire, he lighted 
 a cigar. The past unrolled itself before 
 him, and he tried to forecast the years to 
 come. The deductions from his rea- 
 soning were as clear and strong as if 
 spoken by a bell-like voice beside him. 
 
 Loneliness was horrible. It turned 
 a man into an intellectual machine, 
 warped his nature, put him out of touch 
 with his kind. Once he had been proud 
 to stand quite alone, absolute master of 
 every heart-throb and every moment, 
 but he had tasted the joy of a sympa- 
 thetic woman's daily companionship, 
 and was unfitted forever for a self-con- 
 tained life where the ego was supreme 
 and ambition the ruling passion. 
 
 If he had learned this from the year 
 of life under one roof with Anne, how 
 much deeper the lesson would be if she 
 had been his wife! If Anne had been 
 his wife ! The words filled him with 
 passive regret as he lifted her photo-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 271 
 
 graph from the mantel and looked into 
 the eyes which seemed even there to 
 question and comfort him. 
 
 If he could have loved her, if he could 
 but love her now, as any man, the 
 greatest, might be proud to love her! 
 His feeling for her was very near the 
 richest his nature could produce. Gen- 
 tleness and sympathy were in it, pride 
 and reverence. It but lacked passion 
 to make it perfect. This he had known 
 for one woman, an unreasoning, intoxi- 
 cating love, without substance or depth. 
 Anne did not arouse it in him, he could 
 not add it to the mixed longings which 
 made her necessary to him ; very prob- 
 ably it would forever escape him. 
 
 Need this prevent him from asking 
 her to be his wife, from making her 
 happy should she give herself to him ? 
 What he had to offer was better far 
 than what he lacked the fever of pas- 
 sion which could thrive in the most 
 meagre natures; the most evanescent, 
 the basest ingredient of all in love. 
 Anne could be dear and necessary to
 
 272 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 him without this madness which could 
 never come again to him. Without 
 being in love with her, he loved her 
 tenderly. Was there as much impor- 
 tance in the subtle difference as ro- 
 mantic minds supposed ? 
 
 His head was cool, his heart craving 
 sympathy. He desired urgently not so 
 much Anne's kiss as her companion- 
 ship, not to give himself into her 
 power and lose himself in her, but to 
 know the happiness of her dependence 
 on him. 
 
 When his cigar was finished, he 
 went back to the table and looked 
 down at the letter he had begun to 
 her. 
 
 " My dear Anne." The stereotyped 
 words were so wholly inadequate they 
 irritated him. He crushed the paper 
 in his palm and flung it into the fire. 
 He would go to her. As he took his 
 overcoat and hat from the stand in the 
 hall he muttered impatiently : 
 
 " What shall I say to her ? How 
 can I put it to her ? "
 
 A Circle in the Sand 273 
 
 In a few moments he was on the 
 street, making his way against the 
 wind to her rooms on Washington 
 place, where some of the most con- 
 tented hours of his life had been 
 spent. 
 
 The flames in the lamps, reflected in 
 the drenched pavements, danced under 
 his feet; the crossed streets lay in stormy 
 shadow; icicles on trees and palings 
 clinked in the rush of the freezing rain; 
 once the numbed face of a beggar 
 looked at him ; once a stray dog 
 pressed lonesomely against him as he 
 strode on. The world seemed full of 
 mist and pain, but there was peace in 
 his soul, and when he saw the firelight 
 on Anne's windows he felt almost 
 ashamed of the sense of well-being 
 which came to him while others in 
 the world suffered. 
 
 Anne opened the door of the sitting- 
 room herself. She was all in white, 
 of some thick, heavy-falling material, 
 and behind her dark head the room 
 swam in rosy gloom. The air was
 
 274 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 heavy with the perfume of roses. He 
 seemed entering a garden with Anne 
 by his side, pale from her illness and 
 with dovelike eyes. 
 
 A soul-wave of mutual comprehen- 
 sion made him feel his coming had been 
 half-expected and that she was glad. 
 When he had made her sit again in the 
 low arm-chair and had arranged the silk 
 pillow at a comfortable angle for her 
 head, he sat down beside her and looked 
 at her earnestly. 
 
 " Almost well again, aren't you ? " he 
 said gladly. " Your face is getting back 
 its rounded look, and soon you won't 
 get a single bit of sympathy." 
 
 " I don't deserve any," Anne said, an 
 excited catch in her voice. " I assure 
 you, reposing on this pillow in a sort of 
 Cleopatra attitude, I feel quite a fraud. 
 I'd like to have gone for a tramp in this 
 wild rain. Listen to it. How it sighs 
 and sputters, and then it comes on with 
 a sweep ! " 
 
 While the words left her lips she was 
 thinking that it was strange and troub-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 275 
 
 ling to be there alone with David, the 
 firelight on his near face, while beyond 
 the close-curtained windows the storm 
 called and called to them in vain. 
 
 She knew why he had come. Her 
 intuitive mind leaping to conclusions 
 told her that words having no kinship 
 to farewell were faltering on his lips. 
 She felt a sudden uneasiness and ex- 
 citement. The beating of her heart 
 was painful. 
 
 " You'll be gone a month ? " 
 
 " At least a month," she nodded. 
 " I'm revelling in the thought of get- 
 ting back to summer and for the first 
 time smelling a lily-field in bloom. The 
 word ' Bermuda ' has an exotic sound 
 to me. Have you ever been there?" 
 
 " No," he said absently, and, leaning 
 nearer, said earnestly, " I'll miss you so, 
 Anne." 
 
 His fingers touched hers, and she met 
 his eyes. They were grave and domi- 
 nant. 
 
 " And how I've missed you these last 
 five weeks! " he went on. " I find my-
 
 276 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 self listening for your step, for memory 
 plays me cruel tricks. But you are 
 gone, and I have to learn all over the 
 lesson of philosophy. I've grown to 
 hate the place. Just to look at the 
 corner of the table where you used to 
 pour coffee for me makes me blue." 
 
 As he spoke quietly and half confid- 
 ingly Anne became aware of a disap- 
 pointment in herself. He was going to 
 say more. What had been her dearest 
 dream was going to intensify itself into 
 a certainty to-night, and yet she was 
 aware that if some interruption had 
 come and David had been forced to 
 leave her with the words unsaid, she 
 would have been relieved. 
 
 "Yes, I've missed you, and I will 
 miss you," he continued, and lifted her 
 hand to his lips. "Does it matter at 
 all to you? Does it matter that you 
 are very dear to me, and I want you 
 always? Will you be my wife, Anne? 
 Will you?" 
 
 A sense of coming triumph filled 
 David as he spoke. He was aware he
 
 A Circle in the Sand 277 
 
 had not feared failure. During the last 
 year Anne had so let herself be knitted 
 with his life it seemed only a natural 
 conclusion that he was as necessary to 
 her as she to him. Besides, he had 
 never failed in anything save his mar- 
 riage, and without egotism he did not 
 consider that this pale and lonely woman 
 whose affection he had tested could dis- 
 appoint him now. 
 
 But Anne drew away from him, and 
 while his hand still held hers a wave of 
 relief from the deeps of her soul went 
 over her. She seemed suddenly set 
 free from chains. David's manner, his 
 gentle, tender words, had left her cold. 
 He was clear-eyed, sensible, happy, but 
 temperate and master of himself. She 
 felt no desire to respond to his touch or 
 glance. Instead there leaped into her 
 mind a regret that, without quite real- 
 izing why, she must deny him. 
 
 " Anne," he said again, his face anx- 
 ious now, " Anne, can you can you 
 love me? Will you marry me?" 
 
 She stood up and turned her head
 
 278 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 away, still feeling strange to herself. 
 When she spoke she obeyed a new 
 knowledge, imperative, yet mystifying. 
 
 " David," she said slowly, almost 
 wonderingly, " I don't love you that 
 way." 
 
 He remained silent until she forced 
 herself to look fully at him. 
 
 "Ah," he said, as if it were the first 
 breath he had taken since she had 
 replied, " is it so ? I had hoped but 
 no matter now." 
 
 Anne gazed shrinkingly at his seri- 
 ous, composed face and held out her 
 hands. He took them and looked ten- 
 derly at her. 
 
 " We'll forget this, Anne," he said. 
 
 Her eyes looked frankly and sorrow- 
 fully into his. 
 
 " I go away to-morrow." Her fin- 
 gers held his closely. " Say good-by, 
 and say it as if you forgave me." 
 
 " For what ? My dear Anne, you 
 need no forgiveness from me." 
 
 " I've given you some pain, David. 
 I've disappointed you. I'm sorry."
 
 A Circle in the Sand 279 
 
 " You couldn't help it," he said. 
 " You don't love me. How are you to 
 blame for that ? " 
 
 Her mind grasped at the words 
 eagerly. It was true. She could not 
 help it. She was not to blame. 
 
 " Good-night, Anne. I hope your 
 holiday will do you good, and I know 
 it will," David said, quite in his usual 
 tone. " Don't fail to let me know when 
 you return." 
 
 She let him go with another word, 
 and went back to the fire. For a long 
 time she crouched over the coals, her 
 face sheltered by her hands. Nora's 
 entreaties about preparations for bed 
 were unheeded. 
 
 " I want to be alone," she said, push- 
 ing the girl away. " Come back by 
 and by." 
 
 She sat in the empty room, watching 
 the fire sink lower. She was groping 
 in the dark for an understanding of her 
 own heart and the reasons which had 
 made her refuse to be David Temple's 
 wife.
 
 280 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 She had loved him the night he had 
 sat in this same room and told her of 
 Olga. She had continued to love him 
 miserably, with passion, and had strug- 
 gled to forget him through conflicts of 
 regret. In the days when peace had 
 come to her he had still seemed the 
 most important and dearest in the 
 world. She had many times thought 
 of him so during the year spent in the 
 same house with him. 
 
 Why, then, when he had spoken the 
 words she had believed would hold the 
 richest harmony in her life had they 
 meant none of these dear things ? Why 
 had they not been acceptable ? 
 
 Light came slowly, and she under- 
 stood. 
 
 She had outlived her love for David 
 Temple without having become aware 
 of the change in herself. She had not 
 even pitied him acutely, as women do 
 pity what they must hurt. 
 
 Was he hurt very much? He had 
 been very sure of her. With fine, con- 
 vincing intuition she had felt the confi-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 281 
 
 dence underlying his caressing words, 
 had divined it in his calm eyes. He 
 missed her, that was true enough; 
 needed her, for the simplest and most 
 sensible reasons. He was fond of 
 her. She had his admiration, confi- 
 dence, respect. From habit she had 
 become necessary to him. His silent 
 house required a mistress, his life a 
 companion. But the love which comes 
 to curse or bless a life, and which is 
 all of life, was not there. Even the ex- 
 altation of the senses, miscalled love, 
 which he had felt for Olga, was absent. 
 There was no illusion, no pain, no 
 romance, in David's affection for her. 
 It was quiet, well-balanced, whole- 
 some. She knew she was the passion- 
 less choice of his calm, wise moments. 
 The thoughts came and went, and left 
 her like a stone. 
 
 Nora tiptoed in, a muddy letter in her 
 hand. 
 
 " The fool of a postman, to save 
 cooling his feet, put this under the mat, 
 instead of ringing the bell. It's a sorry-
 
 282 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 looking letter it is now," and Nora 
 dried it on her apron before putting it 
 in Anne's outstretched hand. 
 
 It was from Donald. Her eyes 
 brightened as she took it quickly and 
 drew the rustling pages from the enve- 
 lope. She read: 
 
 DEAREST ANNE : It's very quiet where I sit 
 to-night writing to you. The short twilight has 
 disappeared into a dark, blue night, the Southern 
 Cross is in the sky, and the few other stars are 
 bigger and brighter than the many at home. How 
 far away you are from me ! Somehow I never felt 
 so alone in the wilderness as I do to-night. A 
 longing to see you eats at my heart. There is no 
 voice in the world as sweet as yours. I love your 
 eyes, the way your lips look when you laugh. Oh, 
 Anne, Anne, if I could see you now ! 
 
 These fancies are wild, you will think maybe. 
 Oh, but I do love you so ! A nigger somewhere in 
 the darkness outside is playing a passionate tune 
 on a tin flute, and the savage notes go through me, 
 racking me with a miserable sort of happiness, 
 they are so like the ache I feel to see you, to touch 
 you ! 
 
 I've worked very faithfully. The men I'm 
 thrown with, Armitage and Morgan, are bully 
 good fellows and, like me, are hoping and toiling, 
 with prosperity under another sky as the reward.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 283 
 
 I like them both immensely, and I think they like 
 me pretty well. 
 
 I wish you could see your two books. You'd 
 hardly know them, they are so thumbed. I almost 
 know them by heart. There's a bright future for 
 you, Anne, dear. Oh, I hope you'll have all your 
 dreams realized, every one ! But there's bitter- 
 ness in the thought for me. I see more and more 
 how much I aspire to in loving you, how mad the 
 dream that maybe But I can't go on. Noth- 
 ing can alter the fact that I do love you, and, 
 though you go quite out of my life and marry and 
 are happy without one thought of me, I must still 
 love you. Nothing can alter that. 
 
 Oh, I wonder will you ever love me. Will I 
 ever be able to go to you and ask you that ? Will 
 I dare ? What you've been to me ! Only to-day 
 as I stood watching the negroes among the coffee 
 shrubs I thought of the night in the mines when 
 we sat with our hands clasped in the blackness 
 and I talked to you of my wretched self as I'd 
 never spoken to any living being, and the night 
 when Joe died and I tried to tell you all that was 
 in my heart. Do you remember it as I do? I 
 kissed your hair that night. You didn't know it. 
 Afterward, when you looked at me, your beautiful 
 face so white, and whispered, " I'll remember, 
 Donald," I thought my heart would burst with pain 
 and joy. How I wish I could have my life to live 
 over again and be at this moment the man God 
 had meant me to be, not full of bitter memories,
 
 284 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 still half afraid after fighting the habits of years ! 
 If away back in the past when I was a little chap I 
 could have known that one day I'd meet you, love 
 you, need you so, how little all that was miserable 
 would have seemed only a time of darkness to 
 be lived through somehow with happiness awaiting 
 me at the end ! 
 
 These are thoughts which haunt me all the time, 
 though I've little enough time to think. There's 
 so much to do I've grown very practical. But it's 
 so quiet here to-night, and you are so very far 
 away, and I do crave with physical pain for one 
 sight of you, and the nigger's melody has fired 
 my blood, and a queer bird outside my window 
 utters now and then a soft good-night note as sad 
 as death. 
 
 Oh, to have you beside me in this little room 
 just for a moment, to bless it for all the days to 
 come with the magic of your smile ! I love you 
 dearly, Anne ; need you more. 
 
 I suppose you are very much at home again in 
 your old rooms. I can fancy the year you spent 
 in Waverly place was deadly dull, although you 
 wouldn't say so. You say David has bought the 
 old mansion from the doctor and regularly settled 
 down there. I wonder why he does this unless he 
 intends to remain a hermit or marry again. 
 
 Do you know I feel sorry for David ! Yet I 
 don't think it would please him to think any one 
 felt pity for him. I used to think in the dark 
 days before you came to me it would be the
 
 A Circle in the Sand 285 
 
 sweetest moment in my life to see him in some 
 position where I could pity him. He used to 
 antagonize and attract me in the one hour. But 
 that's past and done with. There's not a tinge of 
 envy in my feeling for him now. Since his wife's 
 death he's written to me very seldom. Do you 
 think he loved her very much? Does he make 
 you his confidante now as he used to do ? You 
 and he were great chums once. I hated him 
 then. And once shall I tell you? I thought 
 that maybe he might love you and win you. If 
 he had, I think I'd have gone mad with grief. 
 David's had everything all his life, and had it 
 before my longing eyes. But if you'd loved him, 
 Anne, I would have suffered pangs too intolerable 
 to think of without agony. I can lose you to 
 another man and bear my disappointment as well 
 as I can. But to David Temple I can't bear to 
 think of it. It would seem too wretchedly con- 
 sistent with all that's gone before. But you're not 
 going to marry him, so I'll stop tormenting my- 
 self this way. 
 
 How long will it be before I see you ? I have 
 succeeded moderately, have paid David his loan 
 and made some money besides. One year more 
 of this and I'll be able to go home. Home ! 
 One year ! And then ? Well, you know all I 
 dream of. You are everything to me. You seem 
 near to me some days. I wonder if your thoughts 
 stray to me now and then and I feel them ? Oh, 
 do think of me, and as tenderly as you can ! Do
 
 286 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 you understand how I love you ? Do you know 
 what you are to me? I cannot write more. 
 Good-night. 
 
 DONALD. 
 
 The letter slipped from Anne's fingers 
 and lay a small, white patch against the 
 whiter hem of her gown. She thrust 
 her hands out invitingly. Her eyes had 
 the look of a child's in the dark waiting 
 for the coming of the light. The breath 
 came and went unevenly through her 
 parted lips. A happy smile broke over 
 her face. 
 
 She picked the letter up and pressed 
 it to her lips several times before she 
 spoke to it, as if to one who listened: 
 
 " I know I know all now ! My 
 dear, dear, dear ! "
 
 Chapter XXIV 
 
 A MAN on horseback appeared at the 
 head of the road leading from one 
 of the cup-shaped hills to the Fazenda 
 Ricardo, in the province of Rio Janeiro. 
 He wore a short white coat and nan- 
 keen trousers. A blue scarf, loosely 
 knotted, showed a few inches of darkly 
 tanned throat. A wide-leafed straw 
 hat, evidently of Brazilian manufact- 
 ure, was pulled over his eyes. Even 
 in shadow the eyes were unmistakably 
 Donald Sefain's. 
 
 He pulled in his horse and remained 
 lost in a study of the scene, while the 
 sunlight of a Brazilian January bathed 
 him in an intense flood. 
 
 On every hand as far as the eye could 
 
 see the land was prostrate under the 
 
 stare of a pitiless sky. There was no 
 
 shadow near him save that of his horse 
 
 287
 
 288 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 and his own broad-hatted figure. Half 
 way down the hill one bushy-headed 
 palm and the prongs of some cacti lay 
 patterned sharply on the bare and daz- 
 zling earth. Below, in the middle dis- 
 tance, he saw the fazenda, the ugly fac- 
 tory, the unsheltered square and cluster 
 of outbuildings. Behind him lay the 
 waving line of hills on which the coffee 
 shrubs flourished, and from which the 
 soft, monotonous chant and quavering 
 of the negroes came to him. 
 
 This scene made his life the fazenda, 
 the coffee-bearing hills, the unsheltered 
 road lying between them. Ugly, arid, 
 lonely, were the words that rose in his 
 mind as he paused there. The very 
 truth and force of the artist in him made 
 his heart rise in revolt. Hatred and 
 longing were in his steady gaze. 
 
 In a few moments another rider came 
 out of the plantation and drew up be- 
 side him. He was a big, fair-haired 
 man, his light blue eyes a strange anom- 
 aly in his senna-brown face. When he 
 spoke, his broad, musical accent con-
 
 A Circle in the Sand 289 
 
 jured a vision of English fields on a 
 spring morning instead of the hot, sloth- 
 ful land blazing around him. 
 
 " Waiting for me, Sefain ? " 
 
 " No, I was thinking. I knew you'd 
 follow." 
 
 The Englishman looked at him, hesi- 
 tated, and at length spoke: 
 
 " Sefain, you're making a hard fight 
 here, aren't you? " He asked the ques- 
 tion abruptly as they moved on at a 
 crawling pace. 
 
 "Why?" and Donald's uncommuni- 
 cative soul, aroused to interest, looked 
 for a moment speculatively from his 
 brilliant eyes. 
 
 "Oh, I can see it! You hold your 
 tongue better than any man I've ever 
 met, and I've knocked about a bit in 
 this contrary world. But I know you 
 are simply sickening for a sight of home 
 and some woman." 
 
 The words sent a dark flush up Don- 
 ald's cheek, and his silence was cold. 
 
 " Fact! But don't suppose I'm trying 
 to force your confidence, my boy." He
 
 290 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 laid his hand on Donald's wrist. " I 
 speak this way because well, be- 
 cause I'm deuced sorry for you " 
 
 " You're wasting your pity, then. 
 What the devil do you mean ? One 
 would think I'd been playing the part 
 of a sentimental fool." 
 
 " Hold on, mi amigo. Let not the 
 r Inglezes ' quarrel and set a bad example 
 to these brown beggars here ; " and an 
 imperturbable smile distended Armi- 
 tage's full cheeks. " I haven't finished. 
 I'm sorry, and I'm envious at the same 
 time. God! To be not yet thirty and 
 in love! To know the world only in 
 one pair of eyes and comprehend 
 heaven in the touch of five slim fingers ! 
 What wouldn't I give to feel this, tell 
 myself fondly I was a fool, and be glad 
 I was 1 Hug your misery, my boy. Be 
 such a fool. Some day, maybe, when 
 you're like me and not a living thing is 
 really necessary to you, when you know 
 only the sleek and deadly level of prac- 
 tical self-content, you'll remember and 
 wish the longings which tear you now
 
 A Circle in the Sand 291 
 
 could come again and hurt you. That 
 man only is blest whose happiness de- 
 pends upon another human being." 
 
 Donald looked at him in amazement. 
 He had never heard words like these 
 from Armitage. They touched him, 
 too. Over his lean brown face a 
 dreaminess stole, and just as they 
 crossed the fanlike shadow of the soli- 
 tary palm upon the roadway he moved 
 Armitage's hand from his wrist and 
 gripped it. 
 
 " Armitage," he said, roused for the 
 moment out of his self-reserve, " I 
 almost wish, then, you could love a 
 woman as miserably, as passionately, 
 perhaps as hopelessly, as I do. She is 
 the desire of my life and its greatest 
 good." 
 
 "I knew it. The signs never fail. 
 And now I want to talk to you. We 
 might as well here as at the fazenda. 
 Why don't you sell out to me or to 
 Morgan, take what you've made, and 
 go home?" 
 
 "Home?" echoed Donald, unable to
 
 292 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 repress the note of hope and yearning 
 in his voice at sound of that sweet 
 word. "Why?" 
 
 " Do you think this " with a con- 
 temptuous gesture toward the group of 
 low, tiled-roof buildings and the bare 
 land " pays for the pain in the 
 heart? As for the money you make, 
 it's not much for the struggle. The 
 days are gone when big fortunes were 
 made in coffee-planting. It doesn't mat- 
 ter much whether my bones eventu- 
 ally lie under this sun or Korea's, and 
 it's the same with Morgan. But you 
 well, there's a woman you love far 
 away from this wilderness. For God's 
 sake, seize your happiness, sell out, and 
 go to her!" 
 
 "I won't," said Donald quietly. 
 " I've a task to accomplish." 
 
 " Other than the averaging of a profit 
 of eight shillings and tuppence on a 
 bag of sixty kilograms ? " 
 
 u Other than that. I am content 
 with these medium profits. I came 
 here not only to conquer or, at least,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 293 
 
 disarm fortune, but to conquer myself. 
 I'll stay the time I intended." 
 
 They rode on silently. An old ne- 
 gress with a child on her hip stopped 
 in the middle of the road, her palm 
 outstretched, and, following a curious 
 custom, cried in Spanish: 
 
 "Bless me!" 
 
 "God bless you!" said Armitage, 
 and she went on. 
 
 A cart drawn by goats and filled with 
 firewood passed them. Black vultures 
 as motionless as if fashioned in basalt 
 looked down from the stump of a dead 
 tree as they neared the fazenda. 
 
 On nearer view the details of the 
 place were even more unlovely than 
 the misty whole seen from the hilltop. 
 Cattle grazed loose under the charge 
 of an aged negro squatting in the sun 
 and slumbering with his almost flesh- 
 less face against his knee. The gates 
 through which the two men passed 
 were, like everything else about the 
 place, constructed to do what was 
 required of them lazily, carelessly; and
 
 294 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 having been swung back as if under 
 protest when the horses were pushed 
 against them, they returned only half 
 way, with a screech from rusty hinges, 
 and stuck fast in a tuft of weeds. A 
 large family of cats, too attenuated to 
 frolic, strolled languidly around the 
 paved square or sat winking their half- 
 blind eyes in the glare. From some 
 of the white laborers' cottages came 
 the smell of pork and frying bread. 
 Over it all the sun flamed hard. 
 
 Donald and Armitage alighted at the 
 factory, and from this came the low 
 crooning, the murmur of mixed song, 
 heard wherever the negro works. 
 
 " I'm dead for a siesta. My clothes 
 seem weighted with stones," said Ar- 
 mitage, yawning. " I was up before the 
 sun this morning, long before it, so 
 were you," he broke off suddenly, 
 "and by George! you look dead beat. 
 You'd better go a little easier. Do as I 
 do, Sefain. After your coffee, lie down." 
 
 " I'm going to," said Donald list- 
 lessly.
 
 A Circle in the Sand 295 
 
 " Yes, but sleep. Don't lie and 
 think. Why don't you go now and 
 let Tomas fetch your coffee at once? 
 It's almost three." 
 
 " After I see Seraphine and find out 
 what that rascal of an agent at the 
 railway had to say in answer to my 
 complaint. Must we keep trusting his 
 honesty in weighing the sacks? I'd as 
 soon trust the devil." 
 
 " Ah, what can we do ? That's the 
 leakage through which our profits drip. 
 But because time and exertion are as 
 valuable as money in this enervating 
 plague-spot, we must trust as we go, 
 and be cheated from the moment we 
 leave the sacks at the station to the mo- 
 ment they are shipped in Rio. Don't 
 let me think of it. The helplessness 
 of it drives me frantic. It's too hot to 
 object even to being fleeced," and Armi- 
 tage swung across to Morgan's house, 
 where he knew pork and plantains were 
 waiting for him. 
 
 Half an hour later, Donald, with 
 hands in trousers' pockets and hat tilted
 
 296 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 lazily over eyes that seemed asleep, 
 went down the stone square to the end 
 farthest from the factory and paused 
 before a small house exactly like the 
 others save that it stood apart, a palm 
 within a few feet throwing a top-heavy 
 shadow across its white fa9ade. 
 
 Home that silent, shaded little 
 house of four small rooms, where no 
 familiar face ever welcomed him and 
 no voice but his own or his servant's 
 vibrated on the sleepy air. As Donald 
 looked upon it now, the quiet place 
 seemed to feel the dissatisfaction aris- 
 ing from his tormented heart, and to 
 meet it with almost servile protest. 
 
 He had done what he could to 
 make the house habitable. It was even 
 a pretty house when compared with the 
 bare hideousness with which Armitage 
 and Morgan were content. The laced 
 bamboo flaps on the windows made the 
 place swim in gloom as restful after the 
 sunlight as the feeling of a cool hand 
 on the brow. There was matting on 
 the floor, a hammock swung in a corner,
 
 A Circle in the Sand 297 
 
 some sketches of his own upon the 
 walls, some books on the mantel shelf. 
 Chief among the books were Anne's, 
 and just above them hung a small, 
 unframed pastel he had made, showing 
 her face with the expression he loved 
 best, the eyes glancing sideways, half- 
 questioning, tender. 
 
 He dropped the big manila hat to 
 the floor, sank into a cane chair, and 
 stretched his body out in a way expres- 
 sive of unspeakable weariness. Now 
 that his forehead was bared, the sun's 
 strength was seen in the pallor of the 
 skin just below the hair, making a di- 
 vision as sharp as a sabre cut. 
 
 Armitage was right: he was used up 
 and needed a rest. His hand sought 
 some cigars upon a small table and 
 then slipped back. It would be better 
 not to smoke until Tomas had brought 
 his coffee Tomas of the many lies, 
 the sickly-sweet smile, and the coral- 
 tipped pendants in objectionable ears. 
 
 All sorts of thoughts and half 
 thoughts floated through his mind
 
 298 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 the heaviness of the day, the knavery 
 of the Portuguese agent on the Dom 
 Pedro II. Railroad, the wish to make 
 money faster, the surprising words 
 Armitage had spoken on the road, and 
 always, no matter what his surface 
 thought, the fierce and living conscious- 
 ness of Anne underlying all, the un- 
 governable longings he had let speak 
 in that last letter to her, the craving for 
 her answer, the constantly recurring 
 waves of homesickness checked by 
 returning determinations to be strong 
 to the end. 
 
 One more year of work, and he would 
 have tested himself enough, and made 
 enough money to go back to New York. 
 He saw the town plainly, and with 
 an unappeasable longing. There were 
 the "Citizen" offices, the panorama of 
 sparkling bay and clotted smoke against 
 a copper sky seen from its western win- 
 dows; the brisk crowds on Broadway, 
 the snow, furs, and violets; but most 
 of all Anne's rooms, the firelight clasp- 
 ing her as in a confidence, and perhaps
 
 A Circle in the Sand 299 
 
 cold, sweet rain washing a winter plant 
 upon the window-sill cold, cold, sweet 
 rain, not the sticky mist and windless 
 showers falling at intervals in this hot 
 season. He longed to feel its riot and 
 chill against his face and hear the ring 
 of the stone pavements under his tread, 
 or to hurry through miles of frosty sun- 
 light to Anne's side 
 
 Tomas entered with the coffee and a 
 dish of peppered chicken, but midway 
 across the room he paused and let his 
 melancholy eyes rest upon his master. 
 He was asleep, his head fallen back, 
 and exhaustion marking the features. 
 Sleep was better for him than peppered 
 chicken, Tomas reasoned, and remained 
 considerately quiet, his gaze as melan- 
 choly, but more watchful, as he lifted a 
 piece of the meat to his lips with his 
 fingers and rhythmically licked their 
 brown tips. It was indeed well for his 
 master to slumber on, and if he took 
 another piece there would still be 
 enough. 
 
 Before he could materialize the
 
 300 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 thought voices outside surprised him. 
 He hurried to the door and met the 
 Spanish housekeeper of Senor Morgan 
 about to enter. At a little distance 
 behind her he saw a small group of 
 people, two strange women, evidently 
 " Inglez," and with them Senor Armi- 
 tage. At the entrance to the court 
 stood an ox-cart in which the visitors 
 must have come from the station. The 
 heavy beasts were rubbing their noses 
 together, moving the iron bells upon 
 their collars, and sending a lonely clang 
 through the sunlight. 
 
 " Mother of God, the senor will be 
 surprised! " Morgan's housekeeper was 
 saying in shrill tones, swaying from 
 hip to hip in her excitement. " He will 
 shout and throw his hat into the air for 
 joy when he knows. Ah, you will all 
 see ! Ay, it is wonderful ! Out of the 
 way, stupid pig!" to Tomas. "I am 
 to tell the senor that his love has come 
 to him over thousands of miles." 
 
 "The senor sleeps as if the sun had 
 touched him," interposed Tomas, with a
 
 A Circle in the Sand 301 
 
 glance of murder, for he hated the 
 housekeeper, who annoyed his reveries 
 by talking too much, and knew so well 
 how to take precise aim when she threw 
 broken crockery at him. " I would not 
 rouse him for the chicken even " 
 
 " Because, beast, you wanted to eat 
 it yourself! This is more important 
 than food. Let me in!" 
 
 Armitage pulled her back and mo- 
 tioned Tomas aside. 
 
 " Go away, both of you ! " he said, in 
 a whisper of command. 
 
 He turned to one of the strangers. 
 She was young, dark-eyed, a little too 
 white and slender for his idea of beauty, 
 and with marks of travel weariness on 
 her face. 
 
 " Let your maid wait here. You will 
 find Sefain in this house. They say he 
 is sleeping." 
 
 Anne's lids sank for a moment over 
 her eyes as if a throe of insupportable 
 feeling coursed through her, which 
 might have been apprehension or love, 
 and she entered the dim room. She
 
 302 A Circle in the Sand 
 
 stood with loosely clasped hands and 
 looked down at Donald. Often during 
 the travail of the long journey so im- 
 pulsively undertaken, she had won- 
 dered what emotions would come to 
 her in this moment when she faced the 
 struggler who needed and loved her, 
 the man she loved. 
 
 She looked at him in silence and her 
 lips quivered. She was stirred with a 
 passionate joy, but not this alone, 
 an exquisite, penetrating pity, the desire 
 to shield came from the depths of her 
 nature, where the motherhood lurks 
 that is part of every woman. 
 
 Donald's lids showing blue against 
 the browned and sunken face, the clam- 
 miness upon the strip of pale forehead, 
 the parched lips parted, the unguarded 
 heart crying out its distress in the fixed 
 expression of sorrow and appeal, were 
 like so many chords around her heart 
 drawing her toward him. She had done 
 right to come to him. 
 
 She crossed the room to his side. 
 But though she leaned above him, he
 
 A Circle in the Sand 303 
 
 still slept, not knowing heaven was 
 near. She sank on her knees and laid 
 her cheek upon his drooping hand, as 
 she called him clearly twice. 
 
 Donald started forward, dazed. The 
 reality came in Anne's kiss as she clung 
 to him. 
 
 THE END.

 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 Form L9
 
 A 000 028 600 5