ew nissioner
 
 409E

 
 THE NEW MISSIONER
 
 She a.'.s a slender black-robed teaman
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. WILSON WOODROW 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE BIED OF TIME 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE MCCLURE COMPANY 
 MCMVII
 
 Copyright, 1907, by The McClure Company 
 
 Published, October, 1907
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING 
 SHE WAS A SLENDER BLACK-ROBED WOMAN PAOE 
 
 ^Frontispiece 
 
 STANDING IN THE CENTRE OF THE GROUP SHE 
 SPOKE DIRECTLY AND MENACINGLY TO 
 FRANCES 12 
 
 SHE TURNED TO MRS. EVANS WITH A PLEADING 
 
 EMBARRASSMENT OF MANNER .... 96 
 
 " HELLO, GIRLS," HE ANSWERED HEARTILY . .134 
 
 IT WAS MYRTLE WHO WOULD INNOCENTLY MEET 
 
 HIM 144 
 
 BEFORE THE GIPSY'S DOOR STOOD TWO SHAGGY 
 
 BURROS 206 
 
 FOR A LONG TIME THEY SAT IN SILENCE . . 234 
 " LISTEN, MR. CAMPBELL " 266
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 1 SAW the New Missioner get off the train at the 
 station this morning," said Garvin to Lutie. " I thought 
 you told me that Mrs. Nitschkan and her crowd had 
 driven her away for good." 
 
 " The New Missioner back ! " cried Lutie, her wan 
 little face flushing with excitement. " Ain't you mis 
 taken, Walt?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it," returned Garvin. " I drove up 
 on the hack with her, saw her get off at the Thorn 
 House, and heard her tell Mrs. Thorn she was back for 
 good." 
 
 " I bet you a dollar that she don't stay," affirmed 
 Lutie. " Mis' Nitschkan and her crowd won't have it." 
 
 " I bet you twenty-five that she does stay," said the 
 millionaire of Zenith, laying down his book and speak 
 ing with earnestness and emphasis. " I had a good look 
 at her this afternoon. Put your money up, Lutie, here's 
 
 mine. 
 it 
 
 All right," responded Lutie, with alacrity. " But 
 if she's sure back, we'll have some fun, for I'm tellin' 
 you, Walt, Mis' Nitschkan an' her friends won't have 
 her. They say they don't want no woman missionary 
 nosin' around this camp. Mis' Thomas said yesterday 
 that it was a matter of principle with 'em; that they 
 didn't believe it was possible for a woman to bring the
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 tidings of salvation. I'll bet you the fun'll begin to 
 morrow, Walt." 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder," he returned absently. 
 
 Lutie's surmise was quite correct. Surely, never be 
 fore in the history of Zenith had the advent of a quiet, 
 rather insignificant woman created so much discussion. 
 Yet fully to realise the importance of the situation, one 
 must understand that Zenith, largely by virtue of 
 geographical conditions, was almost entirely depend 
 ent upon her own resources for interest and excite 
 ment. 
 
 It was a mining village in the very heart of the 
 Rockies, nestling in eternal beauty, and surrounded by 
 chill, snow-crowned peaks, and yet, if one might judge 
 from appearances, sordidly indifferent to the grandeur 
 of its environment. 
 
 It was to this remote spot that the Bishop of the 
 diocese that included Zenith, had sent Frances Benson, 
 or, as she was speedily and currently dubbed, " The 
 New Missioner." 
 
 Now the Bishop was benign and worldly as well as 
 spiritually wise, and consequently he had asked her, per 
 plexedly, whimsically, and a little sorrowfully, to go 
 to this especial field. 
 
 " I hope you won't reproach me later," he said 
 apologetically, " but you have sown such effective seed 
 on such unpromising rocks before and er have 
 
 shown such a genius for your work, that Well, to 
 
 tell the truth," in a burst of confidence, " you are 
 
 4
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 the only material I have that may " doubtfully " pre 
 vail." " 
 
 She had looked at him with something like laughter 
 in her eyes and expressed her complete willingness to 
 undertake the work at once. Conscious of her powers, 
 she loved to test them. The Bishop evidently regarded 
 Zenith as a most difficult problem; so difficult that he 
 would intrust it to no one but her. Her heart rose in 
 pride and gratitude. She loved difficult problems. 
 
 And she had gone, and she had liked Zenith. She was 
 one of those whose strength cometh from the hills ; and 
 among the pines, the splendid shining peaks, where the 
 air is blown crystal clear, there seemed to descend upon 
 her spirit, worn by the routine of monotonous days, the 
 calm and healing of silence. 
 
 She felt new tides of an almost electrical energy 
 flowing to her; and her stimulated brain constantly de 
 vised fresh plans for ennobling and vivifying the stag 
 nant village life. But from the first she was conscious 
 of some strong, baffling force which invariably turned 
 the current of sentiment against her most cherished 
 views and plans. By patient observation she grew to 
 know that the force that balked her so effectively was 
 feminine. 
 
 Assured of the correctness of her surmise, Frances 
 was too astute to jeopard her position by any false 
 moves; so, after due inward cogitation, she decided 
 upon a masterly inactivity, a withdrawal into the wilder 
 ness, as it were. 
 
 Consequently she departed, and the combating powers 
 
 5
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 of Zenith believed and jubilantly announced that she 
 would not return. 
 
 In this they erred. She not only returned, but started 
 out the morning after her arrival with the very definite 
 end in view of forcing the issue. 
 
 Although it was nearly ten o'clock as she walked 
 through the one straggling village street, the sun was 
 just beginning to peep over the peaks. But that had 
 not retarded the day's activities. The miners had fol 
 lowed the trails upward through the pines two hours 
 before ; the children were all in school as the last tap of 
 the cracked bell in the small schoolhouse belfry pro 
 claimed, and this was the hour when the women invited 
 their souls with a brief interlude of stimulating gossip 
 across front gates or over side fences. 
 
 This morning the conversation with Frances for a 
 topic had been indefinitely prolonged, and, as in many 
 such cases, discussion had degenerated into acrimonious 
 argument. Frances, however, had succeeded in appear 
 ing oblivious to the unrepressed comments upon her 
 personal appearance and her calling, as she walked 
 through the one street Zenith could boast. 
 
 She was a slender, black-robed woman, with a square, 
 determined face, heavy, dark hair and the large, far 
 away eyes of the mystic. Hers was a face which in re 
 pose was strong and plain ; but when lighted by a smile 
 the soft and very feminine mouth took curves of an 
 appealing sweetness, and even coquetry, which captured 
 the beholder with the sudden charm of the unexpected. 
 
 Frances Benson had been born of the lower classes 
 
 6
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 of a great city, and had begun life as a waif in the 
 stream of the world. With aspiring energy she had 
 caught at straws and spars and struggled ashore. She 
 had managed, none knew how, to secure an ordinary 
 education, and at sixteen was " in business " ; but al 
 though commended for her diligence, she was un 
 satisfied. The hand and the brain she kept occupied; 
 but the heart remained untouched, because the keynotes 
 had never been sounded. But finally it vibrated, then 
 rang true to the minor chords, the wail of distress ; the 
 cry of thousands. 
 
 She had followed this cry to the slums of cities, to 
 the factories, and the mines; had worked side by side 
 with the labourers, lived their lives, made their neces 
 sities hers. In comforting, managing, nursing and 
 sometimes preaching, she found not only solace, but 
 scope for her powers. The side which drew upon her 
 executive ability also appealed to her imagination and 
 to her longing to spend herself and be spent; and the 
 composure, the self-restraint that she had acquired 
 through those years of training stood her in good stead 
 now, for there was no hint of inward perturbation as, 
 the apparently unconscious cynosure of many eyes, she 
 opened the gate and walked up the untidy path to a 
 cabin which stood somewhat apart from the neighbour 
 ing dwellings. 
 
 There are certain houses which wear a distinct ex 
 pression; which have, as it were, attained a physiog 
 nomy. This cabin was one of them, and its aspect, heed 
 less, rakish and devil-may-care, was accentuated by its 
 
 7
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 leaning chimneys and the litter of tin cans and broken 
 washtubs in the disorderly yard. 
 
 At the Missionary's first low knock on the door there 
 was the faint flutter of a window curtain as if an eye 
 had been applied and hastily withdrawn. Then the door 
 was thrown wide, and the mistress of the cabin stood 
 upon the threshold. 
 
 She was a type to whom hardihood is a birthright. A 
 short, stout figure in a brief cotton skirt which freely 
 disclosed a man's boots, she stood Napoleonic and alien 
 among her kind. A man's coat was buttoned across her 
 burly chest, and her scant curly brown hair was pushed 
 under a man's soft hat thrust back on her head. Small 
 alert blue eyes twinkled in a weather-beaten red face, 
 and her smile displayed two faultless rows of tiny teeth 
 as white as a squirrel's. 
 
 She did not ape masculinity in the least ; but merely 
 wrapped herself in it as a garment, and remained the 
 freebooting Amazon, unconsciously exulting in the pos j 
 session of two sets of weapons those she had appro 
 priated from man and those of her own sex. 
 
 For a moment she surveyed Frances, and then threw 
 the door wider open. 
 
 " Come in, won't you, Missioner," bowing with iron 
 ical and punctilious courtesy. " Us ladies is jus* a- 
 sittin* here, chattin'. Choose yer chair, Missioner. I 
 guess you know the ladies present." 
 
 The women referred to occupied chairs drawn close to 
 the stove, and were to all appearances enjoying the re 
 freshment of both tea and coffee. Behold the redoubt- 
 
 8
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 able Mrs. Evans sitting among her prime ministers 
 a tiny, black-eyed creature to whom the languors of 
 her larger sisters were foreign. She alone had selected 
 a straight chair, and now sat rigidly erect, her arms 
 folded defiantly across her chest and her feet barely 
 touching the floor. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas, on the other hand, was a tall, stout 
 beauty, with the appearance of a Norse giantess and the 
 appealing, kittenish manners and baby lisp which seem 
 to be the especial temptation of the Venus Colossal. 
 Mrs. Landvetter was a flat-faced German, large of build 
 and of tremendous physical strength. 
 
 After the first cold greeting accorded Frances, no 
 word was spoken. The four women among whom she 
 sat rocked slowly back and forth, gazing fixedly at the 
 stove, an expression of deprecatory meekness on their 
 faces. One would almost have said that they purred. 
 Their lids were drooped, but in their eyes was that 
 peculiar glisten seen in those of a panther on guard. 
 
 Their silence covered the swift buckling on of 
 armour, the marshalling of forces, the preparation for 
 the subtlest, most merciless conflict on earth the war 
 fare of women, a warfare ungoverned by codes of hon 
 our or rules of the game. The combat of men is as the 
 sport of children in comparison; it defines itself in hot 
 words, the swift, material vengeance of pistol or knife, 
 a fight in the open. 
 
 In her battles with man, woman uses the powerful 
 arms of fascination, appeal, tears, and weakness ; but 
 in the struggle of woman against woman such wooden 
 
 9
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 swords and paper shields are cast aside, useless toys in 
 that warfare of strategy and ambush which employs 
 poisoned arrows and the stiletto, so handled that the 
 wounds bleed inwardly and show no trace. 
 
 In those brief moments of waiting the lines on the 
 Missionary's face deepened, and the strength of her 
 face became more apparent, even a certain vulgarity. 
 She had mentally reverted to the frays of her child 
 hood, and felt herself again the hair-pulling, kicking 
 imp of the slums, shrilling coarse innuendo at her foes. 
 The lady she had striven to make herself slipped from 
 her as the husk from a kernel, and, like her sisters 
 among whom she sat, she was a primitive cave-woman, 
 stripped of all of civilisation's hard-won graces, save 
 only self-control. 
 
 As it became evident that she had no intention of 
 making the first move, the members of the opposition 
 began to fidget somewhat uneasily in their chairs and 
 glance furtively at one another. Presently Mrs. Land- 
 vetter's deep voice broke the protracted silence. 
 
 " I vas a-tellin' you about dat lace of mine in de 
 pineapple pattern, vasn't I, Mis' Thomas?" she in 
 quired innocently. " Oh, it vas fine ; von foot so vide. I 
 lef it on my dresser von morgen und py afternoon it 
 vas gone." 
 
 Before Mrs. Thomas could properly condole with her 
 friend upon this much discussed loss, Miss Benson's 
 voice broke in clearly : " I have heard of that lace so 
 often," she remarked coldly, " that I talked the matter 
 over with the Bishop last week, and we resolved that if it 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 was not soon recovered, a court of law should investi 
 gate its disappearance." 
 
 This rapid return-fire was so unexpected that the 
 enemy was temporarily thrown into confusion. An 
 awed pause ensued, and Mrs. Landvetter, to cover her 
 embarrassment, arose and, lifting the coffee-pot with 
 fine nonchalance, poured her cup so full that it brimmed 
 over and ran down into the saucer in streaky rivulets. 
 
 But a Thomas to the rescue ! " I s'pose you ain't 
 been long enough in Zenith, Miss Benson," addressing 
 the Missionary with suave and considerate interest, " to 
 catch on to the way the boys feel about havin' a woman 
 preacher. It'll be pretty hard fer you right along. One 
 of the boys was a-sayin' to me to-day, he says " 
 
 The steel of Frances Benson flashed in the air and 
 stabbed squarely. " I suspect it was the same one that 
 told me he was glad of the change," she said trenchantly. 
 " He thought his grocery bills might go down, now that 
 his wife couldn't invite the preacher in for every meal." 
 
 Mrs. Thomas fell back from the impact of the blow, 
 but rallied hastily and feinted to gain time. She became 
 suddenly absorbed in the contemplation of her empty 
 cup, gazing at it with astonished incredulity, even turn 
 ing it sidewise toward the light and squinting at it as 
 a connoisseur of art might view some rare treasure. 
 
 " Why, Mis' Nitschkan," she murmured perplexedly, 
 " I do declare, ef my cup ain't plum empty ! I'll thank 
 you fer another cup of tea." 
 
 The gipsy of the wilds, the hardy denizen of mining 
 camps, sprang to her feet and squared her shoulders 
 
 11
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 determinedly while she served her friend with a brew as 
 strong as lye. She had made her obeisance to etiquette, 
 and had allowed her guests the opportunity of drawing 
 first blood. Now she meant to take command of the 
 field herself. 
 
 " I tell you what, Missioner," she said bluntly, " they 
 make it awful hot here f er folks they don't like ; an' us 
 girls ain't so bad at that game, either. Girls, you re 
 member that book-agent, an' also that schoolmarm that 
 we got rid of? " 
 
 Standing in the centre of the group she spoke di 
 rectly and menacingly to Frances. 
 
 " That book-agent, she come here day after day, al 
 ways with that ' Famous Women ' series under her arm ; 
 but I fixed her at last. ' Mis' Tompkins,' I says, real 
 polite, ' put your books down on that chair, an' come 
 into the front room while I give you a cup of coffee.' 
 ' All right,' she says, an' lays down her books. Well, I 
 got her in the easy chair in the front room, with the 
 photograph album to look at, an' then I run back fer a 
 cup. Celia was a-settin' there on the kitchen floor; she 
 was just about three then. Well, I reached her a jug 
 of molasses an' I says, ' Celia, paint the pretty book.' 
 An' Celia did. Oh, how that Tompkins took on when 
 she seen it ! " 
 
 She bent herself double in paroxysms of laughter, 
 which were ably echoed by her guests, with the excep 
 tion of the missionary, who made no attempt to conceal 
 her cold scorn. 
 
 "I jus' raised myself like this, an' looked her in the
 
 Standing in the centre of the group she spoke directly 
 and menacingly to Frances
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 eye, an' says as cold, ' You lef them books at your own 
 resk ; now try an' make me pay f er 'em ef you dare ! ' 
 An', girls, she jus' slunk out. 
 
 " An'," continued Mrs. Nitschkan, stimulated by her 
 success, and still gasping with laughter, " you remem 
 ber that schoolteacher nasty, stuck-up thing I 
 couldn't stand her from the first! No more could you, 
 Mis' Evans ; nor you, Mis' Thomas. So I told Celia to 
 cut up as many monkey tricks as she pleased at school. 
 Well, one day she come home cryin'. * Mommy,' she 
 says, ' I can't go back to school no more. Teacher, she's 
 expended me, 'cause I'm so bad.' 
 
 " ' She did, did she ? ' I says. * I'd like to see her de 
 prive any child of mine of learnin',' an' I marched 
 straight off to the schoolhouse. ' What do you mean,' 
 I says, ' by drivin' my child away from school? I s'pose 
 you want her to be as ignorant as you think her mommy 
 is ; but I'll show you a thing or two ! ' With that she 
 begun to cry. ' Oh,' she says, ' I'm a-goin' to leave this 
 cruel, wicked place ! ' ' That's right,' I says, ' an' I'll 
 advise you to leave quick.' ' 
 
 She concluded with a great burst of mirth, in which 
 the rocking women joined, now easing and again break 
 ing out into fresh chuckles. Then, tightening her lips, 
 she nodded directly and threateningly at the missionary, 
 as if to say, " You've heard me ; take the lesson home." 
 The rocking women caught their breaths in delight and 
 admiration. 
 
 There was one quick heave of Frances Benson's bosom, 
 and then she slowly lifted her head, her eyes fixed un- 
 
 13
 
 waveringly upon those of the burly mountain lioness 
 no longer the unseeing orbs of the mystic, full of 
 strange visions, but the cold, quick eyes of the shrewd 
 organiser, alight with exultant power. Her voice rang 
 high, almost shrill. 
 
 " What was the name of this teacher, Mrs. O'Donnell 
 I mean Nitschkan ? " Steadily, mercilessly, she held 
 her tormentor's eyes while the gipsy gazed at her as if 
 fascinated. Thus challenged, Mrs. Nitschkan's face 
 went white, her lids drooped, and her defiant figure grew 
 limp and nerveless ; but the missionary was implacable. 
 " Strange that I should have used that name ! " she 
 ruminated. " It belonged to a man I used to know in 
 Arizona, and met in Denver a week ago. He was search 
 ing for some trace of the wife who had deserted him 
 several years back, taking with her his watch and five 
 hundred dollars in money. He has never divorced 
 her!" 
 
 The breath that broke from Mrs. Nitschkan's lips 
 was almost a sob. Forgetful of the friends who scanned 
 her with quick, curious glances, she stood perfectly 
 still, twisting the corner of her apron and gazing with 
 drooping mouth and hunted eyes about the cheerful 
 room her home hers! Her gaze roved about the walls 
 and out through the window where the towheads of her 
 children shone in the sunlight. For a moment she heaved 
 and trembled, and then the fire came back to her eyes. 
 She straightened, stiffened, and sprang at the mission 
 ary, seizing her by the shoulders and shaking her back 
 and forth. 
 
 14
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 " You'd come here with your lyin' tales, would you ? " 
 she screamed hoarsely. " You'd come here an' try an' 
 take my husband an' children away from me? That's 
 what you're up to ! But I'm a-goin' to kill you ! That's 
 what I'm a-goin' to do kill you ! Wring the neck of 
 you like you was a chicken, which you are ! You skinny 
 monkey, you want to get me out of the way so you can 
 have my man an' my children. You've been after him 
 a'ready ! " 
 
 The Missionary struck the mountain woman across 
 the face. "You're a liar!" cried the daughter of the 
 slums. There ensued a moment of fierce tussle, while the 
 onlookers collapsed in hysterics, with the exception of 
 tiny Mrs. Evans. That intrepid soul hurled herself into 
 the fray, and, seizing Mrs. Nitschkan by the arm, 
 dragged her around. 
 
 " Are you crazy? " she cried. " Fer God's sake, stop 
 poundin' her ! Darn you, Nitschkan, don't you know us 
 ladies is got some social position to keep up? Now stop 
 it, I say ! Missioner ain't goin' to say nothin' outside if 
 we fall in with her; are you, Mis' Benson? " 
 
 The missionary fell back against the wall, pale, 
 bruised, trembling, but with " no capitulation " written 
 on every line of her face and figure. 
 
 " No," she gasped ; " I'll never tell as long as you're 
 willing to help me in the Lord's work." 
 
 " Now, you hear that, Mis' Nitschkan, an' all you 
 ladies," crisped the decisive Evans. " We're a-goin' to 
 consider everything unsaid, an' all unpleasantness over. 
 Here, Nitschkan, set in this chair an' pull yourself to- 
 
 15
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 gether while I rustle around fer fresh tea. Mis' Thomas, 
 get Miss Benson a clean cup." 
 
 For a moment or two Mrs. Nitschkan cowered in her 
 chair, pulling with trembling fingers at her torn coat 
 sleeve. Then, throwing her apron over her head, she 
 broke into wild sobbing, which alternated with a rasp 
 ing and mirthless laughter. 
 
 " The ' strikes,' " said Mrs. Evans composedly, pour 
 ing boiling water into the teapot. " It'll be a relief f cr 
 her; jes' let her be." 
 
 " How'd ever we poor women bear our lives if it 
 wasn't fer 'em ? " murmured Mrs. Thomas. " Lay off 
 your hat, Miss Benson," she continued, in a voice which 
 was as oil. " How's your health, now ? If you've ever 
 had anything wrong with your lungs, this is just the 
 place fer 'em. If it's your liver, well, I'd say a cup of 
 sage tea night an' mornin'. Oh, you got your hand tore, 
 didn't you? Why, it's a real bad scratch. Let me rub 
 in a little ' Rocky Mountain ' salve do." 
 
 But the missionary seemed not to hear her. She, too, 
 had fallen into a chair, and sat staring before her with 
 a white face and staring eyes. 
 
 " I came to Zenith to try and help," she stammered, 
 but I " 
 
 " That's right, to try an' help. Well, woman dear, 
 what else are we on earth for? To do for others, I, 
 say." 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan, despite her dishevelled appearance, 
 had quite recovered herself, and was even more desirous 
 than her sisters of ignoring the past. 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 Frances Benson struggled to her feet. " I can't stay, 
 unless you ladies really want to help me." She stood 
 leaning weakly against the door, her face white and 
 deadly fatigued ; but her eyes steady, no hint of failing 
 purpose in them. "Will you help? " 
 
 " Well I guess yes," said Mrs. Nitschkan heartily, 
 speaking for all. " You can depend on us, Miss Benson, 
 now an' hereafter. Ain't it so, girls ? " 
 
 '' You bet ! " returned Mrs. Evans with even more 
 decision. " Marthy Thomas, pour the Missioner a nice, 
 hot cup of coffee." 
 
 17
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 /\LL that afternoon Frances Benson sat in her room 
 in the Thorn House, the mountain hotel to which she 
 had been directed by the Bishop before her arrival in 
 Zenith, and where, since the tenure of her stay seemed 
 so uncertain, she had since remained. 
 
 It was a bare, uncarpeted little room, with two small 
 windows framing magnificent pictures of the narrow 
 plain and the towering mountains beyond; a comfort 
 less chamber with a few pieces of pine furniture which 
 gave evidence of long and hard usage. So illy put to 
 gether were the rough board partitions separating the 
 rooms, that it seemed to Frances that by night or day 
 she was never able to secure the privacy for which she 
 longed. About her there were always footfalls and 
 voices, laughter and oaths. She was coughing con 
 stantly from the tobacco smoke which floated through 
 the cracks in the walls and wavered in long, blue lines 
 across the room. It was only when out upon the hill 
 sides that she ever felt herself alone. 
 
 Longing for peace and silence, bruised in body and 
 soul, she had returned to the inn after the scene at Mrs. 
 Nitschkan's, and, unheeding the raucous summons of 
 the dinner bell, had slowly dragged herself up the stairs 
 to the unquiet chamber. For an hour or two she had sat 
 there, one arm flung over the table and head bent upon 
 
 18
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 it, dully conscious of a bodily ache and of the black 
 waves of depression which rose rhythmically, monot 
 onously, like the sullen waters of an incoming tide, and 
 swept over her soul, engulfing its hope and quenching its 
 light. 
 
 All the tense force, the poise, the courage, expressed 
 in every line and pose of her body was gone. It was as 
 if the spirit had withdrawn itself and left only the nerve 
 less, crumpled, unstable flesh. At last she lifted her head 
 and looked dejectedly, almost dazedly, about her. 
 
 " I didn't meet it right," she murmured ; " I didn't 
 meet it right. I put myself on their level. There didn't 
 seem to be any other way ; but there must have been 
 only I didn't have light enough to see it. Yes, there 
 must have been another way, but I'm so weak " 
 
 She drew toward her a Bible on the table, and, open 
 ing it, bent above it, her pale cheek leaning on her 
 hand. Thus she read until the room had so filled with 
 shadows that she could not discern the words, then 
 soothed and calmed, she arose to light the lamp. Sad 
 still, but with regained poise, she was able to review the 
 situation. If she was incapable yet of rejoicing, she at 
 least found relief in the thought that one question was 
 definitely decided : she was to stay in Zenith, and she did 
 not have to confess defeat to the Bishop. 
 
 But the lamp chimney she was adjusting almost fell 
 from her hands, for she was startled by a quick knock 
 upon the door, and the landlady's daughter, without 
 waiting to be bidden, announced two visitors, Mr. Her- 
 ries and Mr. Campbell. 
 
 19
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Upon Frances's request that they enter, there ap 
 peared two old men, whom she remembered to have seen 
 in the little church on one or two previous Sundays. 
 The first to come forward from the gloom of the door 
 way was Herries, a tall, bowed figure with a keen, aqui 
 line, intellectual face, and a quantity of snowy hair 
 which fell across his brow. His clumsy, patched boots 
 and rough clothes betrayed his poverty, while his seamed, 
 twisted hands bespoke the hardest toil. Close behind 
 him followed Campbell, a withered stump of a man, who 
 crouched, a huddled little figure in the chair Frances 
 offered him, his feet failing to touch the floor by an 
 inch or two. He did not speak, even in answer to her 
 greeting, but watched her every movement with strange, 
 wild eyes peering from a mat of tangled whiskers and 
 grey hair. 
 
 " We have come," said Herries, with a certain unctu 
 ous formality, a sort of solemn hilarity, " to con 
 gratulate you upon your victory." There was a sardonic 
 gleam of excitement in his piercing blue eyes. 
 
 " Amen ! " It was one deep, fervent note, rich, vibrat 
 ing, resonant, like the mellow tone of a bell, from the 
 little man at his side. " We have heard that you have 
 this day been given the grace to vanquish the hosts of 
 the Egyptians which have been arrayed against you." 
 
 Frances flushed to the roots of her hair. 
 
 " Why why " she stammered helplessly. " Who 
 
 knew " 
 
 Alexander Herries laughed discordantly. " Who 
 knew?" his speech as well as that of Campbell was 
 
 20
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 marked by a strong Scotch accent "who knew? The 
 hills, the trees, the very rocks. If you breathe in 
 Zenith, it is known. You have always lived in cities 
 where you get to know the things that happen. Go to 
 the wilderness to know yourself. Strange shapes will rise 
 and mock you, yourself, yourself, always yourself a 
 thousand selves you never dreamed of; but come to the 
 little, hidden villages to know men and women aye, and 
 you will read a sorry tale ! " He mused a moment, his 
 face grown bitter. " Yes," his voice changing, " a 
 good many of the boys are broke to-night on account of 
 you, Missioner the betting was all against you; but 
 there isn't one of them that's not taking off his hat to 
 you, now. You were supposed to pack up and clear out 
 to-night. The Aid Society had spoken." The habitual 
 sneer on his crooked mouth deepened. 
 
 " The Aid Society ! " she repeated uncomprehend- 
 ingly. 
 
 " So. The Ladies' Aid Society of Zenith. One of the 
 kitchens in hell where considerable broth is brewed. Is 
 it not so, Campbell ? " 
 
 " Aye." Again the mellow note boomed from the 
 huddled figure beside him. 
 
 Frances sat for a moment in painful embarrassment. 
 She had no wish to discuss the events of the day. 
 
 " Wasn't it your cabin I saw a day or two ago, on 
 Corona mountain ? " she asked Campbell, in an en 
 deavour to draw him into the conversation and change 
 the subject; but although she spoke directly to him, 
 she saw at once that his thoughts were far away. His 
 
 21
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 eyes were clear and apparently returning her gaze ; but 
 the clearness seemed only of the surface ; behind, it was 
 as if a veil had fallen. 
 
 " No," replied Herries, speaking for him. " He lives 
 with Mrs. Landvetter Mrs. Landvetter, about whose 
 neck ye have put a halter." He laughed in harsh glee. 
 " He has strange powers, has the little man. With a bit 
 of wire in one hand and certain numbers that he can 
 use, he can locate ore. 'Tis true," nodding ; " I have 
 seen him do it more than once. And he has a strange 
 knowledge of things unseen. Some call him mad. Oh," 
 carelessly, seeing her embarrassment, " he does not 
 hear you." 
 
 There was nothing superstitious in Frances Benson's 
 nature, and yet, as she sat in the dimly lighted room 
 with the two old men, the one with his clear, unseeing 
 eyes, the other, sardonic, mocking, and strong, a man 
 of passions and prejudices, she was conscious of a 
 faint awe, a creeping chill. 
 
 But as she turned her gaze from one to the other, 
 Campbell's face changed, he passed his hand across his 
 eyes and looked at Frances with a kindly and intimate 
 scrutiny. 
 
 " Ruth likes her," he said simply, addressing Herries. 
 " She says - " He broke off and listened intently, his 
 eyes again becoming veiled. 
 
 " He means his wife," explained Herries. " She's 
 been dead ten years. He thinks she's with him much of 
 the time. He had a cabin in Pepper Gulch. People had 
 been living there for fifty years, when in a February
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 there was a thaw and then a sudden freshet, and before 
 they knew it the flood was upon them, the cabin was 
 swept away and his wife and son were drowned. By 
 some miracle he was saved." 
 
 He spoke as freely as before, quite as if Campbell 
 were not in the room, and Frances, glancing apprehen 
 sively at the old visionary, saw that he had again 
 journeyed to his far country. 
 
 But before she could avert her glance he had returned 
 to the mundane. 
 
 " Do you feel the spirit of the mountains ? " he asked 
 her. " Was it that which drew you here ? " 
 
 " The spirit of the mountains," she repeated, " the 
 spirit of the mountains ? " But she echoed his question 
 mechanically and with her lips. His words vibrated all 
 through her consciousness, as if some unknown chord 
 of her being had been struck and awakened to music. 
 She looked at him with quick response. With this mad, 
 old man one could nay must speak soul to soul; he 
 permitted no other speech. 
 
 " When the train rolled through the plains," she went 
 on eagerly, the fetters of her habitual self-restraint 
 falling from her, " I seemed to be waiting, waiting. I 
 had never been in the mountains before." 
 
 She stopped in the full tide of her eagerness. She 
 forgot to speak. The mental impression transcended 
 words. She saw again those narrow gorges up which the 
 engine drawing the train had slowly panted, higher, 
 higher, always higher, the way ever growing darker; 
 great rocks overhung the road and were flung about in
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 strange shapes. A dark, terrible region, haunted by 
 hideous dreams of avarice and sordid seeking. She shiv 
 ered. Then came the narrow plains and rocky hills, and 
 suddenly she lifted her head, her eyes dilating the blue 
 ranges and the white, awful peaks. 
 
 "And ye heard the message?" he asked again, in 
 sistent, inexorable. 
 
 " The message? " she whispered. Her mouth quivered, 
 the words seemed drawn from unsounded depths of her 
 nature : " ' Behold I show you a mystery ' " her 
 scarcely audible speech was broken by pauses " ' a new 
 heaven and a new earth. 5 ' 
 
 " Aye. You were drawn," one deep note of satis 
 faction. " So was Ethel. Do you know Ethel? " 
 
 " Ethel ? " she repeated, vaguely startled by the 
 thought that he might again be referring to a friend 
 in that strange world whose boundaries he passed so 
 easily. " Ah," in quick recollection, " do you mean the 
 Salvation Army girl who spoke to me one Sunday night 
 after church? She said that her name was Ethel." She 
 remembered a slender girl with a pale, pretty face, big 
 grey eyes and a cleft, scarlet mouth. The bonnet of the 
 Army covered her ashen, fair hair. 
 
 " The same," muttered Herries, nodding his head and 
 speaking with some pride. " She was a brand the little 
 man snatched from the burning. Mad or sane, he saved 
 Ethel. One night when he was down at the Springs he 
 felt moved to preach in the streets, he often does, 
 and Ethel, who was passing 'in her silks and satins with 
 the paint thick upon her face, stopped to listen." 
 
 24
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 " I saw her," Campbell cried ; " maybe there were 
 others, but I saw only her, and the Word came to me 
 strong and terrible. ' This night thou shalt demand her 
 soul, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against thee.' 
 And I spoke to her the Word as it was given me, and 
 she listened. Then I saw the Fiend in visible form come 
 from the shadows and pluck at her elbow and whisper 
 in her ear ; and I groaned, for I thought I should have 
 to fight long and hard ; but the Word came : * Stand 
 thou still and see the salvation of the Lord ! ' And I 
 spoke no more ; but she ran to me, and knelt at my feet 
 and her tears poured down her cheeks. After that she 
 tarried no longer by the rivers of Babylon; she came 
 here and joined the Army." 
 
 "Yes," said Herries, nodding his head affirmatively, 
 " that's so. Some thinks him mad ; but mad or sane, 
 he saved Ethel. But, Missioner, we must keep you no 
 longer. Rise, Campbell, we must go." 
 
 An idea, she regarded it afterwards as an inspiration, 
 came to Frances as she sat there. " Wait one moment. 
 I want to ask you something," she exclaimed, impul 
 sively following them to the door. " Do either of you 
 know where I can get a little cabin to live in? There is 
 so much noise and confusion here in the hotel, and now " 
 with one of her quick smiles " that I am going to 
 remain here, I want a place of my own." 
 
 Herries pondered a moment with lower jaw pushed 
 forward. " There is a cabin of Garvin's on Corona 
 about a quarter of a mile below mine. It's empty now, 
 and he might rent it to you." 
 
 25
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 "On Corona!" delightedly. "I should like that. 
 Who is Mr. Garvin, and where can I find him ? " 
 
 " Walt Garvin," said Herries, " is the biggest mine 
 owner in these parts 
 
 " An unbeliever ! " said Campbell. 
 
 Herries twisted his mouth. " The biggest mine owner 
 in these parts. He owns the Crescent Consolidated, the 
 Mont d'Or, the Gold Bug and half a dozen others. He 
 struck it rich about five years ago; and he's a white 
 fellow. I'll show you where he lives." He walked over to 
 the narrow-paned window. " Do you see those lights 
 twinkling yonder on the flat? " he asked, pointing with 
 one great, rugged forefinger. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, that's his house." 
 
 " His palace," came the arresting, accusing, stern 
 tones of Campbell ; " the palace that he built for his 
 light-o'-love."
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 F RANGES paid no heed to Campbell's last words, 
 scarcely heard them, in fact. Her mind was too fully 
 occupied with the thought of a cabin on Corona a 
 little home among the hills. The idea was so attractive to 
 her, the mental picture it presented so pleasing, that she 
 resolved to see Garvin about the matter early the next 
 morning; but upon inquiry as to the best time to find 
 him at home, she learned that he was usually early at his 
 mines or mills and .would probably be occupied at one 
 place or another until late in the afternoon, so that it 
 was nearing sunset on the following day before she 
 started on her mission. 
 
 Leaving the Thorn House, she walked down Sunshine 
 Avenue, the poetic name of the mountain road which 
 served also as the one street of the straggling village. 
 After ceasing to be an avenue the road continued for 
 about a quarter of a mile through lush brown meadows, 
 and ran across a little bridge over a creek which 
 separated the higher flat from the waste land. 
 
 In spite of her eagerness to secure a cabin on Corona, 
 Frances paused on the bridge nevertheless and, leaning 
 upon the rail, watched the fast flowing waters of the 
 mountain stream. So clear was it that she could count 
 the pebbles in the narrow channel where the water ran. 
 On either side of this rippling tide were several feet of 
 ice, thin and crinkled, and jutting out over the water in 
 
 27
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 sharp, broken points and arrowy spars. Along the 
 banks were clumps of willows, whose long yellow-ochre 
 wands were beginning to look alive, to swell and ripple 
 with faint, tremulous undulations, ready to burst in a 
 day, in an hour, into their tender, grey-green leaves. 
 Frances drew in long breaths of the indescribably pure 
 air. There was Spring in it, Spring with all its rap 
 turous promises, its high, ethereal ecstasy. She longed 
 to linger there; reluctantly, she turned her face 
 westward, toward her destination, and paused again, 
 arrested. 
 
 The " flat " stretched before her straight and level 
 for a short distance, and ended in a growth of pines 
 which rose tier on tier up a mountain side, regular, 
 solemn, mysterious, and beyond them, through a gap in 
 the hills, a flaming sun sank slowly behind two snow- 
 crowned, sharp-cut peaks, which looked one, but were 
 perhaps twenty miles apart. Frances forgot her errand, 
 her eagerness to execute it, and stood silently with her 
 uplifted gaze on the hills before her, until the last glow 
 of the sunset had vanished and the grey twilight met and 
 melted into the black shadows from the hills. 
 
 With the change, the one house on the " flat " which 
 had during the splendour of the day been an incon 
 spicuous feature of the landscape, now dominated it, as 
 a many-facetted and brilliant jewel may shine upon a 
 dark velvet gown. Lights gleamed from numerous win 
 dows. " A palace ! " Old Alexander Campbell's words 
 recurred to her. It was indeed a palace in Zenith ; Zenith 
 of the two- and three-roomed cabins. 
 
 28
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 Her ring at the door was answered by a Chinese 
 servant, and upon her request to see Mr. Garvin, she was 
 ushered into a large room so flooded with light that, 
 coming from the soft twilight without, she was almost 
 blinded; and she was further dazzled by a richness of 
 fitting and furnishing which struck upon her eyes al 
 most like a blow, and left her for the moment confused 
 and bewildered. 
 
 The room was indeed garish and ostentatious to a de 
 gree. Heavy, flowered red curtains fell over inner ones 
 of white lace before the windows. There were great 
 upholstered red satin chairs and couches alternating 
 with spindle-legged gilt ones. The lamps which were in 
 profusion were covered with white and scarlet shades. 
 There was a litter of bric-a-brac on tables and pedestals, 
 and upon the walls were pictures representing various 
 kinds of cheap sentiment Watteau young men and 
 women embracing in terraced gardens, or stout cardinals 
 in gorgeous robes smiling upon Louis Quatorze wait 
 ing-maids. 
 
 Frances shrank back involuntarily from the glare, 
 and then, as she became more accustomed to it, her 
 glance fell upon a slight figure which had risen from 
 one of the great chairs, pushing back a table before her 
 to do so. It was a pale and weary girl. Her dull brown 
 hair lay in one long plait down her back, and a tea- 
 gown of some gauzy texture and of an extreme and 
 eccentric mode fell from her thin shoulders. Her face, 
 still pretty, showed that she had once possessed a radi 
 ant and flower-like beauty; but the skin had yellowed 
 
 29
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 with ill-health, and was covered with many fine lines of 
 weariness and pain. The brilliant eyes shone with a fitful 
 and feverish light. 
 
 " How do you do ? " she said in a weak, petulant 
 voice. " Was you wanting to see me ? " 
 
 " I am Frances Benson, a Missionary," said her 
 uninvited guest, " and I came to see Mr. Garvin about 
 renting a cabin." 
 
 " Oh, the Missionary ! " She viewed Frances half 
 respectfully, half resentfully. " Won't you sit down ? 
 I'll call him. Wa It ! " lifting her voice ; " say, Walt, 
 come here ! " 
 
 The curtains before the door parted, and a tall, thin 
 man, with a worn and lined face and deeply sunken eyes, 
 entered. 
 
 " What's the matter, Lutie? Oh," his eyes falling 
 upon Frances, " excuse me. I'll get my coat." 
 
 The woman laughed. " Ain't Walt funny, though ? 
 He's got such manners as never was. I tell you what, 
 I like it, just the same. Say 
 
 But before she could finish her sentence Garvin had 
 reappeared. He drew a chair near to Frances and sat 
 down. His manner was quiet and simple, and struck 
 her favourably. 
 
 " You wanted to see me ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Garvin. I have recently come to live in 
 Zenith. I am a missionary, you know, and I want a 
 cabin of my own. It isn't convenient for me to live at the 
 Thorn House any longer." 
 
 " No, I can easily understand that," he said thought-' 
 
 30
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 fully. His deep eyes had gazed at her steadily while 
 she had been speaking. " Let me see. There's a little 
 two-room cabin upon a ledge of rock on Corona. It's a 
 kind of lonely place for you, though." 
 
 " Oh, I'm never lonely," she reassured him with a 
 smile. " Never." 
 
 " Very well. I will give you the key and you can go 
 up and look over it when you have time. I will be glad to 
 have someone occupying it." 
 
 He left the room to get the proffered key, and 
 Frances stood up, ready to go upon his return; but 
 Lutie was gazing at her with a kind of eager excite 
 ment. 
 
 " Oh, don't go ! " she cried, and there was a real 
 earnestness in the petulant pleading of her voice. " Do 
 stay and talk to me a while." She flicked a pile of fashion 
 magazines and catalogues on the table before her. 
 " Look," pointing to a heap of clippings, " I've been 
 cutting out those for hours and hours pictures, you 
 know, of the latest gowns and hats and wraps and things. 
 Here's a hat I'm going to send for. Say, Walt, I wish 
 you'd write for this to-night." Garvin had entered while 
 she had been talking, handed Frances the key, and dis 
 appeared again. " Oh," went on Lutie, glancing be 
 hind her, " he's gone. I don't care, I'm tired of 'em, 
 anyway. I'm tired of everything." Her haggard gaze 
 hung on the missionary. " Dead tired. Walt's going to 
 take me on a trip as soon as I'm well enough to travel. 
 The doctor says I'll be worse if I leave this dry air ; but 
 I know I'll be worse if I stay here in this dead old hole." 
 
 31
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 She had sunk back in her chair, and now she studied 
 the quiet figure of the missionary through her half- 
 closed eyes for a moment or two, and then lifted her chin 
 with a sort of defiant bravado. 
 
 " I s'pose you think I'm something perfectly awful, 
 don't you, because Walt and I aren't married ? " 
 
 Frances shrank a little. She was not prepared for 
 these intimate revelations. Her face flushed deeply. 
 
 " I I didn't know that " 
 
 " We weren't ? " finished Lutie, with a hard little 
 laugh. "Well, we're not. How on earth could we be? 
 I'm all tangled up with husbands," shrugging her thin 
 shoulders impatiently. " I've got three of them around 
 somewhere." 
 
 " But you're so young," cried the missionary, sur 
 prised into the exclamation. 
 
 " Twenty-five. I began young, you see," with another 
 of her mirthless laughs. " But," sitting upright and 
 speaking emphatically, her frail figure dilating with 
 pride, " nobody needn't make any mistake about one 
 thing. Walt would marry me like a shot, just like a 
 shot, if he could. Oh, the law's an awful stupid thing. 
 It makes me tired." Her head drooped. " Say," with 
 sudden animation, " I tell you what. You want to see 
 Angel. Wa a It ! say, Walt ! " as he answered the 
 summons, " tell one of those Chinamen to chase Angel in 
 here. I want the lady to see her." Then to Frances. 
 " Are you going to have Sunday school ? Good ! " in 
 answer to an affirmative reply. " You bet she'll go. She 
 needs it bad enough." 
 
 32
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 " Say," warmly, her feverish vivacity continuing, " I 
 believe you're a good sort. Ethel said you were; but I 
 don't pay much attention to what she says. She splashes 
 her religion around so. It's like my canary bird there 
 taking a bath. Wait," holding up her hand and listen 
 ing. " Here's Angel." 
 
 There was a patter of feet without, a little voice 
 asking questions, and a child ran into the room, a girl 
 of about six years. Her expensive and elaborate frock 
 was stained with clay and wet to the waist, the sleeve 
 was hanging in ribbons from one deeply scratched little 
 arm. Her feet and legs were bare and scarlet. She 
 stopped halfway in the room and stood still, gazing at 
 Frances Benson, and under the regard of those baby 
 eyes the missionary felt a shock and a thrill. An emo 
 tion she could hardly have defined as either awe or 
 wonder swept over her, and yet it seemed compounded 
 of both; for here was a personality. 
 
 The eyes regarding her so steadily were of a clear 
 grey, with cold blue lights like one of the icy mountain 
 brooks in sunlight and in shadow. The head was covered 
 with tossed, brown curls and the face was a lovely little 
 mask. 
 
 Caught under one arm, but held closely to her side, 
 was an enormous striped cat, apparently the victor of 
 many hard-fought battles, if one could judge from the 
 number of scars it carried. One ear was half torn away, 
 and across its particularly evil and sinister face was a 
 broad white welt where the fur refused to grow. Its 
 eyes glowered with a fierce and baleful light. 
 
 33
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " Oh, Angel," wailed her mother, " don't let that 
 beast loose. What did you mean by bringing him in 
 here? He's half a coon cat, and likely to tear our eyes 
 out." 
 
 "What's his name, dear?" asked Frances, although 
 shrinking slightly from him herself. 
 
 " Lambie," replied the child gravely. 
 
 Her mother burst into her little hysterical, shrill 
 laugh. " He looks like a lamb, don't he? " 
 
 " He catches rabbits and chipmunks," said the child, 
 " wif these." She pressed one of the cat's paws until 
 his long, curving claws shot out, " and wif these." 
 She pushed back his lip, disclosing the pointed, carniv 
 orous teeth. The animal, resenting such treatment, 
 snarled and struggled to be free. Angel, holding him 
 fast, laughed, and Frances, hearing that cold, gay, ir 
 responsible ripple, thought again of mountain streams. 
 Lambie, however, continued to snarl and struggle. 
 
 " Shut up ! " said Angel, rapping him smartly over 
 the head, " shut up, or I'll break your damn neck." 
 
 " Oh, Angel, how you talk ! " expostulated Lutie. 
 " And you're in your bare feet again. We can't keep 
 shoes and stockings on her, even in winter," she com 
 plained. " And look at your new dress ! That dress 
 cost fifty dollars. Now what's happened to your 
 arm?" 
 
 Angel looked indifferently at the torn little arm 
 where the blood had scarcely dried. " Lambie scatched 
 it," she explained to Frances. " He catched a rabbit, a 
 live one. It was pretty, and I wanted it; so we fighted 
 
 34
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 for it. I got it." She caught the cat up and held it as 
 if it were a baby, looking triumphantly down into its 
 blinking, evil eyes. 
 
 " Isn't she awful ? " mourned Lutie. " Do put the 
 beast out, Angel." 
 
 The child walked to the door, opened it, and threw 
 Lambie out unceremoniously. 
 
 "Won't you shake hands with me?" asked Frances, 
 rising to go and extending her hand. 
 
 But Angel made no response. 
 
 " She won't touch anybody," said her mother. " She'll 
 hug her animals all day, but she won't even kiss Walt 
 or me, and Walt would be awful fond of her if she'd let 
 him. She ain't his, you know. My second husband was 
 her father. Sometimes I kiss her when she's asleep; 
 that's the only chance I get, and then you should see 
 her toss and frown." 
 
 Frances looked down at the beautiful, unsmiling little 
 face. 
 
 " What did you do with the rabbit Lambie caught ? " 
 she asked curiously. 
 
 " I let him go," said Angel laconically. " I get him 
 again if I wants him." 
 
 " She will, too," affirmed Lutie. " Oh, she's awful 
 queer. Say, Miss Benson, won't you come and see me 
 again? I get so darned lonesome I don't know what to 
 do. Ethel comes sometimes, and Mis' Nitschkan drops 
 in every once in a while. I like that old pirate. She 
 makes me laugh ; and Landvetter, she brings her knit 
 ting once in so often ; but Mis' Evans, never ! Not she. 
 
 35
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 She's awful proud, you know, and I don't sport no gay, 
 gold wedding ring ; but you'll come, won't you ? " 
 
 Her voice had grown so weak that it was almost in 
 audible; the colour had risen on her cheeks, and she 
 pressed her hand to her chest as if the mere effort to 
 breathe distressed her. 
 
 " Yes," said Frances, filled with compassion ; " yes, 
 I'll come whenever you want me. Good-night." 
 
 36
 
 CHAPTER! FOUR 
 
 1 T did not take Frances long to come to a decision 
 about the cabin on Corona. The day after her call on 
 Mr. Garvin she formally leased it, with the intention 
 of taking possession at once; but her plans were, if not 
 frustrated, delayed for a short time, by the not unex 
 pected death of Mrs. Thomas's husband, who, after a 
 winter's struggle with miner's consumption, had finally 
 yielded to his stronger adversary. 
 
 For a few days, at any rate, Frances found every 
 moment of her time occupied in consoling the widow 
 and attending to the details of the elaborate funeral 
 which Mrs. Thomas and Zenith regarded as the due 
 of the man who had been so considerate as to leave his 
 widow " property." 
 
 It was therefore a week or two later before the mis 
 sionary could regard herself as finally settled. Her 
 cabin was about half a mile above the village on the 
 mountain side, with a ledge of protecting rock above 
 the roof. It consisted of but two rooms ; but no mistress 
 of an ancestral domain had ever felt more pride and joy 
 in her possessions than Frances experienced when 
 her simple preparations for housekeeping were con 
 cluded. 
 
 She had always lived in a " room," and this was a 
 home. Garvin had had the walls freshly whitewashed, 
 
 37
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 and she had driven ten miles over the mountains to Mount 
 Tabor, a neighbouring and larger village, and selected 
 her simple furnishings. In one room was her narrow 
 bed, a chest of drawers, a table with her few books, 
 and a chair or two. The other room, into which the outer 
 door opened, contained her little cooking stove; behind 
 it shelves ran up to the ceiling; on these gleamed her 
 few and dainty cooking utensils and dishes. There was 
 still room for three or four chairs and the small dining 
 table with its trimmed lamp in the centre, her workbox 
 and one or two books and papers. It was all so plain, so 
 simple, and withal expressed such satisfying and ex 
 quisite neatness, that it held the gracious charm of 
 order and repose. 
 
 Frances stood on a chair before the window adjust 
 ing the new swiss curtains she had just completed. 
 Finishing her task, she jumped down and stepped back 
 the better to view the result, her face dimpling with 
 pleasure and her eyes full of an almost girlish joy. A 
 home at last her home ; and her world without, a won 
 derful new world! 
 
 She threw open the door and stood on the threshold. 
 It was early, early spring. Over there, across the road, 
 patches of snow still lingered among the trees; but on 
 the high branches there was the faint tracery of delicate 
 green tassels. About ten feet from her door the earth 
 broke sharply away into a deep, rocky gulch. A little 
 bridge spanned this, and a mountain brook rippled and 
 gurgled over the rocks eternally. It soothed her to sleep 
 at night, and she awoke each morning to its fresh, pure 
 
 38
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 music. Between a break in the trees she could see the 
 tip of a snowy peak. 
 
 Oh, splendid hills of strength ! She drew a long breath 
 of content. She was settled here. She had won the 
 respect of the people: her face drooped a little at the 
 remembrance of her methods. Ah, well, resolutely put 
 ting that from her, she meant to win their love also. 
 
 A shout aroused her from her musings, and she looked 
 up to see old Alexander Herries coming across the 
 bridge. He had been of real assistance in helping her to 
 arrange her few possessions, and now she welcomed him 
 with a smile of pleasure. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Herries ! " she cried. " I'm all 
 settled. I've got a home at last. Come in." 
 
 She made him sit down in the easy chair, and pointed 
 out the completeness of her arrangements, listening with 
 a smile and a blush while he admired the results to 
 which he had contributed. 
 
 " The chimney draws well ? " he asked. 
 
 " Perfectly. And have you been down to the village 
 so early ? " 
 
 " I have. I needed some coffee and sugar. In the store 
 I heard the usual gossip, and more, aye, and more." 
 He leaned forward, and she shrank back a little from 
 the eager malice of his expression. " 'Tis something 
 new to-day. Sile Evans and his wife have quarrelled 
 and parted. He's taken the Beebee cabin, the first above 
 the mine." 
 
 " Mr. Evans and his wife ! " she repeated. " What a 
 pity! Why, they have three or four little children." 
 
 39
 
 " Sure. I am surprised," he owned, wagging his jaw. 
 " I thought she had succeeded in clipping his claws and 
 pulling his teeth. There must have been one or two left, 
 though, and he balked at losing them." He laughed, 
 and his mirth, as always, struck unpleasantly on her 
 ear. It was so discordantly bitter. " But," noting her 
 grave face, " I got something else beside gossip at the 
 store. Here," he drew a small whistle from his pocket, 
 " when 'tis any bit of mending or tinkering you'll 
 be wanting done, ye can just let me know. Sound on 
 that, and I'll be with you in five minutes." 
 
 Touched by his kindness, she reproached herself for 
 the harsh judgment of him of a moment before, and 
 thanked him warmly. 
 
 " 'Tis unnecessary," he said, although well pleased 
 at her evidence of gratitude, " and thanks take up good 
 time. I'll be going soon, for you're to have a visitor. 
 I heard the Widow Thomas telling some of her friends 
 in the store that she meant to pay you a call this morn 
 ing. The widow ! " his mouth twisting. " She'll be a 
 widow about two months." 
 
 " She's very handsome," said Frances. 
 
 " When you get to know her, you'll find her every 
 variety of the feminine fool," he replied, with his cus 
 tomary scornful emphasis. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Herries ! " she remonstrated, distress in 
 her eyes ; " you are very severe." 
 
 " I'm honest, ye mean. Bah ! 'Tis a world of lies ! " 
 He stared moodily at the ground, working his jaw. 
 When he looked up his face had softened. " Well, I 
 
 40
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 heard you met little Angel. Now, let me tell you, there's 
 somebody. Aye, a wonderful child ! " 
 
 "You like strange people, don't you, Mr. Herries? 
 I have heard you mention almost everyone in Zenith, 
 and you have only spoken a good word for two Angel 
 and Mr. Campbell." 
 
 " Humph ! And why do you think that is so ? " lift 
 ing his head and fixing her with his piercing gaze. " Be 
 cause they are no shams. They live and act from within. 
 They are natural. Why, did ye know " with a touch 
 of pride " that I am the only person in Zenith that 
 little Angel will have anything to do with? She and I 
 wander over the hills all day sometimes. She won't have 
 Campbell about," with a chuckle. " Her mother says 
 she's to go to Sunday school." He gave a great laugh. 
 
 " Well, why not ? " asked Frances coldly. " I cer 
 tainly think from what I saw of the child, and the way 
 I heard her talk, that it will be the best thing for her." 
 
 "You do?" turning his head sidewise and looking 
 at her attentively. " Do you understand Angel at all, 
 I wonder." 
 
 "Understand her!" She looked puzzled. "No," 
 slowly, " I don't think I do." 
 
 " It is not a question of think," he answered bluntly. 
 " You do not ; and never will. She is outside of you." 
 
 Frances pondered this statement for a time in silence. 
 " Mr. Herries," she said at last, and with apparent ir 
 relevance, " I want to ask you something. Why have 
 you been so kind and helpful to me? You do not care 
 for religion, nor for the work I am here to do. I have 
 
 41
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 thought sometimes that it was only because I succeeded 
 in gaining ascendency over a group of women whom you 
 detest. That I gained the ascendency is true ; but it was 
 by methods I am ashamed of." 
 
 " Humph ! " he scoffed. " I care nothing for your 
 methods. I like force, character, whether scrupulous or 
 unscrupulous; but if you'll have the truth, take it. 
 Your principal recommendation is that you're neither 
 a coward nor a liar. I hate 'em both. Ah-h-h ! " holding 
 up his hand as she was about to interrupt him. " May 
 be you've told a lie now and then few of us haven't; 
 what of that? It's that in your nature, to the very 
 marrow of your bones ; you're true. But," his face 
 lighting with queer, malicious glee, " you're narrow, 
 just the same. There's two or three of us in Zenith that 
 ye'll never understand, and one of 'em's little Angel. 
 Listen ! " his quick ear catching the sound of footsteps 
 on the bridge, " here's the Widow." 
 
 There was a hesitating knock, and Frances opened 
 the door to admit the tall figure of Mrs. Thomas, clad 
 all in new and becoming black. On seeing Mr. Herries, 
 she hesitated a moment on the threshold, and then, 
 modestly lowering her eyelids and letting her mouth 
 assume a more decided droop, she entered. 
 
 Adjusting her new crape veil over the back of her 
 chair, she sat smoothing her gloves, equally new, and 
 sighing heavily from time to time. 
 
 " It's most the first time I been in anyone's house," 
 she said, addressing Herries, who had risen to go upon 
 her entrance, " an' it's awful hard." She shook her head 
 
 43
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 slightly from side to side, and fluttered her broad white 
 eyelids at him. " But don't let me frighten you off, Mr. 
 Herries. I couldn't 'a' passed that door if there'd been 
 anybody else but you." 
 
 But Herries, unheeding this flattering remark, and 
 with one sardonic glance at the missionary, quickly 
 departed, and Mrs. Thomas, in spite of her anxiety to 
 maintain what she considered the proper deportment of 
 one so recently bereaved, was incapable of long con 
 cealing the important object of her visit. 
 
 " Say, Missioner, what do you think ! " she cried ex 
 citedly, not only casting aside those trappings of woe, 
 her handkerchief and her gloves, but also her expres 
 sion of profound grief. " The girls sent me to tell you 
 something. They felt it might kind o' take my mind 
 off things, so I come to say that you been elected to 
 the Ladies' Aid Society." 
 
 Frances's mind reverted to Herries's words : " One of 
 the kitchens in hell where considerable broth is brewed." 
 
 " The Ladies' Aid Society ! " she repeated dubiously. 
 
 " My land, yes ! " cried Mrs. Thomas, aghast at this 
 lack of enthusiasm. " I guess you don't quite know 
 about it. Well, you ain't nobody in Zenith unless you're 
 in it, and it's awful hard to get in, I can tell you. We 
 kept Ethel waiting three months, an' we ain't never let 
 Mis' Garvin through yet." 
 
 Truth to say, the Ladies' Aid Society was so impor 
 tant a factor in the life of Zenith, that it is deserving 
 a word or two of explanation. 
 
 As the centres of culture have their woman's clubs, 
 
 43
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 their Lenten lectures, classes in this or that, morning 
 bridge, matinees, and afternoon teas, so Zenith included 
 and combined them all in the Ladies' Aid Society, 
 obliterating the boundaries separating these various 
 manifestations of the eternal feminine, but retaining 
 the spirit of each. 
 
 A narrow interpretation of the name and purpose of 
 the organisation might seem to limit its activities to 
 the worthy, if uninteresting, altruism of the good 
 Samaritan ; but to the initiated this would appear as the 
 unimaginative, uninspired reading of a purist in phras 
 ing. Although ostensibly what its name proclaimed, the 
 Society was also a forum for the discussion of events 
 of the hour and a foyer for the display of fashions. It 
 served not only as a weekly excuse for such feathers 
 and furbelows as Zenith could muster; it was also an 
 exchange for borrowing and lending, for " news and 
 pottage," the gossip of the bazaar; and this was but 
 the half, for the keen edge of interest was constantly 
 whetted by its politics, its cabals, its intrigues, which 
 not infrequently flamed into swift debate and impas 
 sioned and acrimonious oratory. 
 
 Reduced to its last analysis, the Aid Society was 
 easily symbolised as the feminine brain of Zenith, pas 
 sionately protected from the rough, disintegrating 
 touch of man, who for some reason regarded it as a 
 menace to his material comfort and mental supremacy, 
 and ever sought to dissolve it. 
 
 But perhaps its meaning, its hold upon the affections, 
 and its place in the life of Zenith are more clearly 
 
 44
 
 presented in the words of Mrs. Thomas, than by any 
 contradictory and halting descriptions. 
 
 " How'd ever us poor women bear our lives without 
 the Aid Society?" she asked Frances indignantly. "It 
 gives us somethin' to dress up for, once a week, an' 
 somethin' to sharpen our wits on an' loosen our tongues 
 over, at the same time. Besides, we're a-doin' for the 
 heathen in the uttermost parts of the earth, an' the poor 
 that's always with you when you don't set the dog on 
 'em." 
 
 She sighed virtuously, and again smoothed her black 
 gloves on her knee. 
 
 " An' now that you're one of us, Missioner, Mis' 
 Nitschkan an' Mis' Landvetter 'n' me thought you'd like 
 to come with us this morning to pay a call on Mis' 
 Evans. You know she's separated, either temporary or 
 permanent, from Sile, an' she likes things done very 
 formal, so us girls are sort of goin' in a body to show 
 we stand by her." 
 
 Even Frances Benson, assenting and pinning on her 
 hat before her small mirror, little realised how sweeping 
 was her victory, a victory of fear, perhaps ; but never 
 theless, very complete. 
 
 " This is sure nice," cooed Mrs. Thomas, tucking her 
 arm comfortably under that of her companion as they 
 walked over the bridge and down the road. " You been 
 a true friend to me in my trouble, and I ain't going to 
 forget it." 
 
 " I'm sorry about Mrs. Evans," murmured Frances. 
 
 " Aw, men are the deuce, ain't they? " advanced Mrs. 
 
 45
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Thomas philosophically. " Best let 'em alone, if you 
 can, only that ain't so easy. And yet," generously, 
 " they're sort o' nice, too. Gentlemen have always been 
 very kind to me, 'ceptin' poor Seth, of course; but 
 then, you can't hardly call husbands ' gentlemen,' can 
 you?" 
 
 Gaining the village, the ladies paused to pick up Mrs. 
 Nitschkan and Mrs. Landvetter, and the four, in a some 
 what cocky-locky, and goosey-poosey procession, set 
 out for the home of Silas Evans, now in possession of 
 his wife and four children. 
 
 It was one of the trimmest and best cared for in the 
 village, with none of the laissez-aller, the indifference to 
 its blue china, which characterised most of the houses 
 in Zenith, whose owners apparently were quite content 
 to live down to the tin cans and entangling wires about 
 the doorsteps, undisturbed by any aesthetic yearnings 
 toward blue pottery. 
 
 However, the front yard but presaged the immaculate 
 order maintained within the house. Adhering to the un 
 written laws prescribed by Mrs. Evans's precise for 
 mality, her guests never permitted themselves the luxury 
 of following their vagrant impulses and running in at 
 the back door. They habitually knocked upon the front 
 door, and were admitted into a dining-room spotless 
 and shining, the floor covered with a bright rag carpet, 
 the stove ever polished and black. Upon the walls were 
 worked texts and framed photographs, while the win 
 dow was gay with blooming plants, geraniums, por- 
 tulaca, German ivy, and begonia. 
 
 46
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 In these pleasant surroundings sat the mistress of the 
 house in a fresh calico gown and a white collar. Her 
 flying moments were never wasted, and she was now 
 busily occupied in cutting down the garments of her 
 elder daughter Eolanthe, to fit the younger, Celora. 
 
 At the first knock heralding the arrival of her four 
 visitors, she sprang forward and opened the door. 
 
 " Good-morning, Nitschkan ! " she cried hospitably, 
 as that masculine and breezy lady of the mountains 
 entered. " How are you ? " 
 
 " Able to set up and take my beef tea," chuckled 
 Mrs. Nitschkan. " Let the door ajar, here comes the 
 other girls." 
 
 " Come right in, ladies," called their hostess heartily. 
 " I hope you brought your sewing with you. Missioner, 
 this is an honour. Take this rocker." 
 
 " Sewin'! Well, just 'cause I hate it more'n pizen, I 
 got some to do, worse luck," responded Mrs. Nitschkan. 
 " The last time we was sewin' on those duds for worse 
 heathen than ourselves, the Bishop, he says to me, 'Don't 
 look so down in the mouth, Mis' Nitschkan, you're doin' 
 the Lord's work.' ' Well,' I says, * I ain't so sure of 
 it. If it's the Lord's work for a woman to set all day 
 an' stick a needle in an' out of a piece o' goods, why, I'm 
 boun' to disagree with him.' " 
 
 "You vas born to disagree, Nitschkan," said Mrs. 
 Landvetter, from the rocking chair before the stove, 
 where she had deposited her huge bulk. She was, as 
 usual, knitting lace in the elaborate and intricate pat 
 tern she loved, counting the stitches as she talked. 
 
 47
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " One two three four five. Yes, you vas born to 
 disagree, and den it's de odder fellow dat gets hurt." 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan laughed. 
 
 " Well, las' Sunday, when Missioner, here, give out in 
 church, * Thou shalt build up the old waists,' I couldn't 
 help givin' Celia a nudge that nearly sent her off the 
 seat. ' That's my tex', all right,' I whispered to myself. 
 God knows it's what I've been a-doin' fer the last week. 
 My kids is the crankiest monkeys that ever was, in the 
 way their clothes has to be made." 
 
 " All kids is cranky," said Mrs. Evans succinctly. 
 " An' the Lord knows the men is." 
 
 " That's true enough," commented Mrs. Thomas de 
 voutly. " Myrtle Swanstrom was askin' me the other 
 day what I thought of marriage. * It's a quick jump,' 
 I says, ' from molasses to snake-root.' ' 
 
 " You hit the nail on the head that time," responded 
 Mrs. Evans. " Mis' Thomas, will you see to the tea and 
 coffee. Everything's ready on the lower shelf and the 
 kittle's boilin'. Which will you take, Missioner? Tea. 
 Mis' Thomas, make a specially nice cup for Missioner. 
 Well," drawing a long breath, " I suppose you've heard 
 about my trouble with Sile, girls ? " 
 
 Mrs. Thomas groaned as she poured the coffee and 
 passed the cups. Mrs. Landvetter sighed and counted 
 her stitches lugubriously ; but Mrs. Nitschkan threw 
 her head back with an habitual, devil-may-care ges 
 ture: 
 
 " Gosh A'mighty ! what does that matter? " she cried. 
 " Dogs an' men is just alike. You got to beat 'em, an' 
 
 48
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 every once in a while drive 'em off the place, before you 
 get any good out of 'em." 
 
 " Well, I jus' got tired of the way things was goin', 
 an' Sile an' me had it out," narrated Mrs. Evans. " I 
 told him in the first place to let that cut-throat lease, he 
 signed, alone. Any fool miner in the camp ought to 
 have known the minute he put eyes on Brown and his 
 fox-grin, that he might as well sell himself to the devil 
 as sign one of his contracts. Well, you know what men 
 are, and you know just how easy one man can get 
 around another, an' you all know that men ain't got no 
 more sense than children, for all they're as obstinate 
 as mules. Well, where are we now? So deep in debt 
 at the store that I'm ashamed to show my face. But 
 what can you expect? Sile hadn't no bringin' up to 
 speak of. You all know what his folks was. I read him 
 the family pedigree good an' strong the night we quit." 
 
 " What did he do ? " asked Mrs. Nitschkan, leaning 
 forward eagerly, " hit you? " 
 
 " You bet he didn't. Hit a McKenzie? Well, I guess 
 not ! Here, ladies, let me fill your cups again. I'll tell 
 you," pausing with uplifted coffee-pot, while the 
 frown deepened between her brows, " I could 'a' bore 
 the lease, perhaps, but that sister of his, that cat of 
 a Mary Ellen, no, indeed ! " 
 
 " La ! la ! la ! " exclaimed Mrs. Landvetter. " Und 
 how vas dat ? " 
 
 " Why, I went clean over to Mount Tabor the other 
 day to collect the rent from the house my father left 
 me. Well, I knocked an' knocked, and at last she come 
 
 49
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 to the door. 'Oh!' says she, 'Mis' Evans?' as formal 
 as that, you see. ' Won't you come in ? ' * No, Mary 
 Ellen,' I says, ' I will not come in. The door-step's 
 good enough for me, an' what I've got to say is this: 
 " I want my rent." She didn't say a word, but kind o' 
 looked down, an' I went right on. ' Now look here, 
 Mary Ellen,' I says, * right's right and wrong's wrong. 
 You've always been slack with your rent, and I've never 
 pressed you, as I might another, seein' as you're Sile's 
 sister; but my stock of patience is about used up. 
 You've got a house full of lodgers, an' every one of 'em 
 working, an' there ain't no reason why you should hold 
 back the rent on me.' ' 
 
 " ' The boys is havin' bad luck,' she says, sort o' 
 sullen. 
 
 " ' Bad luck nothin' ! ' I says. ' They've been workin' 
 in the best payin' mines around. If they've had any bad 
 luck, it's playin' faro. I'll tell you where the money's 
 gone,' I says. ' It's gone buyin' pink organdies and 
 feather boas. That's where it's gone.' 
 
 " * It's none of your business what I buy,' she 
 snapped, ' an' I'll pay your old rent when I get good 
 an' ready, an' not before. Get off my steps,' she says ; 
 ' I scrubbed 'em fresh this morning.' 
 
 " Well, girls, my blood boiled ; but I didn't lose my 
 temper. I says quite cool, ' I'll not get off your steps 
 till I choose, an' I may conclude to stay all night an' 
 call the marshal an' have the things moved out into the 
 street.' 
 
 " 'Aw, you dirty cat ! ' she says, an' made a lunge 
 
 50
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 at me an' an' did this with her low-bred nails.' " She 
 pointed to a scarlet line which ran from her eye to her 
 chin, noticeably, if temporarily, marring her good 
 looks. 
 
 " Girls, you know I'm no coward ; but something just 
 seemed to come over me, maybe it was the words you 
 spoke in church last Sunday, Missioner. * Don't put 
 yourself on a level with this rent-robbing creature. 
 Don't forget you're a lady.' An', girls, I just turned 
 on that step, give her one kick an' walked off." 
 
 " Well," commented Mrs. Nitschkan disappointedly, 
 " we all know you ain't no coward, but you'd better be 
 lieve I'd 'a' done her up when I had the chance. Still," 
 hopefully, " there's more ways of killin' a cat than by 
 chokin' her with butter." 
 
 " My ! my ! " muttered Mrs. Landvetter ; " veil, you 
 can't neffer tell." 
 
 " Say," broke in Mrs. Evans eagerly, " is it true 
 that Sile's up bachin' on Corona, in old man Beebee's 
 cabin, an' that he's gone to work at the Mont d'Or? " 
 
 " Yes," affirmed Frances, since no one else seemed to 
 know. " It must be. I saw him going to work this 
 morning. He he doesn't look very happy." 
 
 " I hope he ain't," said Mrs. Evans emphatically. 
 " He don't deserve to be."
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 gradually absorbed Frances Benson. As 
 the months wore on the great world beyond the blue 
 barriers of the mountains became merely a remembered 
 dream of unimportant movements and inconsequent 
 events ; and this village, lying in a gash in the hillside 
 was, as far as her interests were concerned, the universe. 
 
 The change was so slow and imperceptible as to be 
 unsuspected and unanalysed by herself; but gradually 
 the mountain road before her door became to her as one 
 of the great highways. Always before she had lived in 
 large cities where crowds meet and jostle and travel 
 hither and thither in a series of erratic movements, their 
 progress as purposeless and aimless to the onlooker as 
 that of black ants crawling hurriedly to and fro. Or, 
 to express it as it had appeared to her, a city had seemed 
 like a page covered with undecipherable characters ; but 
 here the page was clear to her, the meaning was plain ; 
 she was learning to read, and the key to the hiero 
 glyphics was interest. Her understanding had become 
 illumined through sympathy. 
 
 Sooner or later, during the day or week, this world 
 that she was beginning to know passed before her doors. 
 Old Campbell trudged up the hill, his wire in his hand, 
 his Bible under his arm, to seek the high solitudes his 
 spirit craved for the pondering of the mysteries and 
 the exercise of his gift. 
 
 52
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 There pretty Myrtle Swanstrom strolled with one or 
 more of her many admirers ; Alexander Herries passed 
 up and down gathering gossip, with Angel dancing at 
 his side, her evil cat tucked under one arm or a puppy 
 trotting on unstable legs at her heels. Sometimes the 
 ladies of the Aid Society passed in groups of two or 
 three, their heads together; and, very lately, tramping 
 down the hill in the morning and back again at night, 
 the dejected figure of Silas Evans, his dinner pail 
 swinging listlessly from his hand. He was a great raw- 
 boned fellow, with a stoop to his shoulders, and an 
 honest kindly face ; but daily his tall form became more 
 gaunt, his shoulders more bowed, and his gentle, con 
 fiding eyes were glazed with gloom. 
 
 Frances, who daily watched him come and go, longed 
 to speak to him, to lighten by word or smile his deep 
 ening melancholy ; but Evans apparently never saw her 
 standing in her cabin door or on the little bridge over 
 the rushing stream. His mind held but one picture, and 
 dwelt upon it unceasingly a genre picture framed by 
 a window-sash; three charming little heads above a sill 
 of blooming plants, watching the road anxiously for 
 his home-coming the home denied him by his own 
 action. 
 
 He lived over and over again the last scene between 
 his wife and himself. Things had not been going well 
 between them for a long time; he was disturbed and 
 unhappy because of their dissensions, but his simple 
 mind had never harboured the thought of a final break, 
 and it had come suddenly like an earthquake shock. 
 
 53
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 With no hint of the tempest brewing, he had come home 
 one evening from his day's work in the mines to find 
 himself in the very heart of the storm. 
 
 As usual upon his entrance to the house, the children 
 had swarmed about him, and he, lifting the baby to his 
 shoulder, had glanced apprehensively over its head into 
 the kitchen where his wife stood busily occupied over 
 the stove ; but she had neither called to him nor in any 
 way noticed his arrival, maintaining an aggressive and 
 effectual unconsciousness of his presence. 
 
 At last, her preliminary preparations completed, she 
 came into the dining-room and spread a stiffly starched 
 cloth on the table, her eyes indifferent, her manner pre 
 occupied, although Evans could not fail to notice that 
 down one cheek, which was ostentatiously held toward 
 him, ran a deep scarlet line like a scratch from eye to 
 chin. Then, slamming down a number of dishes, she 
 announced supper, shortly bidding the children take 
 their places. Save for the clamour of the little ones, 
 the meal progressed in silence. 
 
 Still in silence, so far as her husband was concerned, 
 Mrs. Evans cleared away the supper things and sent the 
 children to bed. Then placing a student lamp in the 
 centre of the table and seating herself where the light 
 fell strongest she sewed silently and energetically, im 
 parting to the room an atmosphere of storm, herself its 
 electric centre, the quick jerk of her arm and the flash 
 of her needle in the lamplight giving the impression of 
 occasional lightning. 
 
 She still preserved a careful unconsciousness of the 
 
 54
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 furtive and placating glances of Evans, who forlornly 
 smoked his pipe on the opposite side of the student 
 lamp, his feet stretched out to the open grate stove ; but 
 by the token of the cheek with the scar on it being still 
 carefully turned toward him, it might be inferred that 
 her abstraction was more a matter of art than an ex 
 pression of nature. 
 
 Finally, the man blundered, as man ever must in a 
 match game of finesse between the sexes, and lost the 
 trick. 
 
 After opening his mouth two or three times and shut 
 ting it again over his pipe, he said in tones which strove 
 to be full of an off-hand confidential interest sugges 
 tive of a camaraderie extending even to the heart of 
 the storm centre : " What's the matter with your cheek, 
 Effie? " 
 
 She snapped the thread viciously, cast the white mus 
 lin down on the table, threw her scissors and thimble 
 into the heap, and faced about with blazing eyes. 
 
 " Why, your sister done it that's what's the 
 matter." 
 
 " Mary Ellen ! " in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, Mary Ellen," she mimicked. " I seen her last 
 week over here to Zenith, comin' in to prayer-meeting 
 why don't she go to prayer-meeting in Mount Tabor, 
 where she belongs in that pink organdie and new grey 
 feather boa, and it made me sick. Do I get any pink 
 organdies or grey feather boas? An' her livin' in the 
 house that my father's money bought, an' never payin' 
 a cent of rent, an' us owin' at the store like we do. It's
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 more'n I can bear. When I go to get my meat an' 
 vegetables in the morning I got to stand around an' 
 wait while Mis' Thomas, an' Mis' Nitschkan, an' Mis' 
 Ames an' all the rest gets waited on me that's always 
 held my head up with the best, an' had a right to, too." 
 
 The storm had burst. The thunder that had mut 
 tered and the lightning that had flashed on the horizon 
 were now booming and striking all about him. Her 
 words fell on him like a shower of hail, stinging, biting 
 into his brain. 
 
 He leaned his elbows on his knees and sank his head 
 into his great horny hands. 
 
 " Aw, you can groan if you want to," cried the 
 woman, stung to frenzy in her tenderest spot, her in 
 domitable pride; " but I've bore it as long as I'm goin' 
 to, an' to-day I took the law into my own hands. I 
 stopped at my house, bought with my money, and 
 asked Mary Ellen for the rent, an' she wouldn't give 
 me no satisfaction, an' scratched my face into the 
 bargain." 
 
 Evans's head sank a little lower. 
 
 "Was there many around that seen the scrap?" he 
 asked, his eyes on the carpet. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," she mocked ; " there wasn't no 
 scrap. Your sister's beauty's safe." 
 
 He looked at her unbelievingly, cogitatively, ques- 
 tioningly ; but she refused to gratify his curiosity. 
 
 " Of course she'd liked a scrap nothin' better ; but 
 not with me, not with a McKenzie. Sile Evans," she 
 continued passionately, " you know what your folks 
 
 56
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 was, an' you know what mine was. Now, when I got 
 some birth an' breedin' on my side, an' wasn't born no 
 poor rat like you an' your sister, why don't you let me 
 have some say ? " 
 
 " I guess you've had enough say for one night," he 
 said heavily, rising to wind the clock. " I guess I'll go 
 to bed now." 
 
 She threw herself before the door. 
 
 " Sile Evans, I've known from the first that that lease 
 wasn't goin' to be no good, an' I begged an' begged 
 you not to take it. The first time I put my eyes on that 
 Brown you leased from, I knew what he was shifty- 
 faced fox/ with his jaws smeared with butter but 
 nothin' would do but that you'd got to sign up with 
 him. An' where are you now ? " 
 
 At her words, the smouldering spark in Silas Evans's 
 eyes blazed. 
 
 " Where. am I now? " he cried. " By God! where am 
 I now? I've drove in two hundred feet, and I've struck 
 one of the best payin' streaks in the camp. I could be 
 making; two hundred dollars, three hundred dollars, five 
 
 O 7 ' 
 
 hundred dollars a month, if the trammers wasn't kept 
 busy in another part of the mine. If I could get my 
 ore hauled to another mill, where the charges ain't so 
 high as at the Company's mill ; if I didn't have to buy all 
 my supplies from the Company ; if Brown hadn't said so 
 easy when we made the contract that the roy'lty would 
 run from twenty-five to fifty per cent., an' then charged 
 me fifty the minute we struck the vein where am I now, 
 you ask? Why, I'd be all right on the top of the 
 
 57
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 heap if Brown only panned out one-half per cent, 
 honest ! I don't care what you say, no matter how you 
 put it, I ain't got nothin' to blame myself with. My 
 judgment was all right. Ain't the ore there? " 
 
 His bluster was in reality a plea, not only for the 
 justification of his business acumen, but to retain that 
 intangible bond of a happy marriage the wife's re 
 spect for her husband. 
 
 Mrs. Evans, however, did not soften. In her eyes 
 was the clear, implacable glitter of the woman whose 
 affection is measured largely by her ambition, and her 
 words were the poisoned arrows of one who has dis 
 covered a latent gift for sarcasm and has no intention 
 of wrapping her talent in a napkin. 
 
 "Oh, yes; your judgment was all right," she jeered. 
 " Ketch a man ever sayin' that he's in the wrong ! Oh, 
 of course, it was all right for you to sign up Brown's 
 lease; any fool miner in the camp ought to have known 
 the minute he put eyes on Brown that he might as well 
 sell himself to the devil as sign one of his contracts. It 
 just meant you were tying yourself up to find ore for 
 Mr. Brown, an* then when you done your stint you 
 was to be froze out." 
 
 The arrows poisoned, the eyes stabbed; but Evans 
 strove unequally to cope with her on her own ground 
 that of sarcasm. 
 
 " Well, since you're so smart," he demanded, " what 
 have you got to suggest that's any better? I suppose 
 you'd want me to throw up my lease to-morrow; then, 
 what have I got before me? A job at day's wages an'
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 two or three years of debt-payin'. That Is," a lump 
 rose in his throat, " pervided you an' the kids don't get 
 sick, nor need no clothes, nor want nothin' to eat 
 but beans an' sow-belly. Aw" his voice breaking 
 " what's the use of talkin'? " 
 
 " This use," she replied defiantly, " that I told you, 
 an' I told you true, that I've bore all I'm a-goin' to! 
 I've begged an' I've plead with you about that lease; 
 there ain't been a day that I ain't begged you to throw 
 it up an' go round to the Mont d'Or. Walt Garvin's 
 wantin' a foreman there ; but no, you're so set that you 
 can't see no way but your own. An' besides all that, 
 you won't take no hand in helpin' me to get my rent out 
 of Mary Ellen, or in puttin' her out of my house, 
 'cause she comes whinin' to you, makin' a poor mouth 
 an' gettin' on your soft side, like any woman that tells 
 her troubles to a man can get around him. It's the las' 
 straw, I tell you the las' straw! 
 
 " Now," she announced determinedly, " I'm a-goin* 
 to take matters into my own hands an' pervide for my 
 kids as they've a right to be pervided for. I don't care 
 whether it shames you before the whole camp or 
 whether it don't." 
 
 He turned and looked at her. "What do you 
 mean ? " he growled. 
 
 " I mean this : I ain't a-goin' to see everything go 
 to rack an' ruin as long as I got a shoulder to put to 
 the wheel. I seen old Johnson who drives the hack to 
 the station and back three times a day. He's so crippled 
 with rheumatism that he wants to go an' live with his 
 
 59
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 sister near some springs, where he can boil out. Well, 
 I closed with him, an' I'm to drive the passengers up 
 and down to the station, after this." She folded her 
 arms challengingly upon her chest. 
 
 Then she saw fully, for the first time perhaps, the 
 slow, struggling, mighty wrath of the gentle. Like the 
 Biblical demon, his anger seemed to rend Silas and tear 
 at his throat. His hands clenched, his mouth became 
 granite, his chest heaved convulsively, his words were 
 strained and hoarse. 
 
 " If you do," he said at last, " if you do, I leave this 
 house and you for good." 
 
 For a moment his wife stood before him frightened 
 to her soul, white-faced but unyielding ; then : " I sure 
 will," she said, and left the room. 
 
 Throughout the long night Evans sat stiff and rigid 
 in a chair by the table, gazing before him with unseeing 
 eyes. He was the victim of what is known in the ver 
 nacular as a cut-throat lease. Hard-working, steady- 
 going, thoroughly dependable, a first-class miner, he 
 had held excellent positions until he was overcome by 
 the dream that haunts every man that of being his 
 own master and the longing that possesses every 
 miner, to lease some undeveloped part of a good mine 
 and realise his bonanza hopes. 
 
 But now his dream mocked him, his hopes deserted 
 him, and through the weary hours he battled with his 
 Apollyon, the dreadful spectre of failure. When the 
 grey dawn broke through the windows he was still 
 sitting at the table. The lamp was low, now and then 
 
 60
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 flaring uncertainly, and the open stove held only 
 the cold, dead ashes of last night's fire. 
 
 He arose to his feet, looking around him dazedly 
 for a moment, and then his face set as hard as the 
 rock he mined. Pausing only to seize his hat and coat, 
 he strode from the house without one farewell glance 
 behind him. 
 
 After a day or two at the Thorn House, he had 
 taken the one-room cabin above that of Frances, and 
 renewed his pre-marital experience of " baching," to 
 the intense excitement of the village. 
 
 Zenith, it should be said, never narrowly confined 
 itself to the proverbial nine days' wonder; regarding 
 such definitely proscribed limitations as artificial and 
 effete. One topic was always made to last until the next 
 arose. To put it vulgarly, the art of spreading a 
 small bit of butter over a large slice of bread was thor 
 oughly understood and demonstrated; and there was 
 no flagging of interest, no haphazard discussion of the 
 matter in hand, for Zenith fully grasped the artistic 
 value of a great writer's dictum, that there is always 
 something new to be said about even a stone. 
 
 Such humdrum topics as the last accident in the 
 mines, the national crisis, or a newly discovered system 
 for beating faro bank were dropped for the time, and 
 the village joyously abandoned itself to the discussion 
 of the Evans problem. Public opinion at first fluctu 
 ated, wavered, but finally veered steadily in the direction 
 of Mrs. Evans, although, let it be said, households 
 became divided on the subject; but, nevertheless, the 
 
 61
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 dejection of Evans's appearance, his rough refusal to 
 discuss the subject, the seclusion he obstinately main 
 tained, lost him the support of the camp. 
 
 He had always been a popular man in the village, 
 one who had unconsciously commanded respect, because 
 he was steady-going and square ; but he had not heeded 
 the gratuitous advice of the legion who now claimed to 
 have warned him against the unscrupulous Brown and 
 his cut-throat lease, and consequently he reaped the 
 somewhat barren sympathy bestowed upon the un 
 successful. This world's darlings are those who openly 
 defy her and carry their point by reckless, spectacular 
 daring; and Mrs. Evans, without half the personal 
 popularity of her husband, yet succeeded in capturing 
 her audience by sheer pluck and bravado. 
 
 Daily, when she drove to and from the station, 
 women left their washtubs and their baking to gather 
 over the front gates ; men congregated in groups at 
 the Post Office or in front of " Johnson's " the village 
 saloon and gambling house. Mrs. Evans, apparently 
 oblivious to this attention, was perched high up on the 
 front seat of a long three-seated wagon drawn by two 
 strong, shaggy horses. Her foot was on the brake as 
 they clattered down the mountain road a big, bold 
 cliff on one side and a sheer fall of a thousand feet on 
 the other. Her attitude was nonchalant, her expression 
 one of gay decision. Arriving at the station, she would 
 back her horses up to the platform, direct the men 
 lounging there how to load the luggage on the boot of 
 the vehicle, point out seats to the passengers, and then 
 
 62
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 with a slap of the lines on the horses' backs urge them 
 up the two-mile drive to the village, conversing on the 
 topics of the day and the gossip of the mines as they 
 drove along. 
 
 It was to be expected, then, that this subject which 
 so completely absorbed the intellectual faculties of 
 Zenith should come up for discussion one evening when 
 Andrew Campbell, Ethel, and Herries had gathered in 
 Frances's cabin. 
 
 The day had been mild, but the evening had grown 
 chilly, and the red coals shining through the bars of 
 the stove diffused not only a grateful warmth through 
 the room, but imparted to it a cosey brightness. 
 
 The two old men occupied respectively the arm and 
 the rocking chairs on opposite sides of the table, while 
 Ethel, her blue cape and bonnet thrown aside, her fair 
 hair twisted in a loose knot on the nape of her neck, 
 moved restlessly about, her rapid speech and changing 
 face indicating the vivacious impulses of her emotional 
 nature. Frances herself, a composed figure, sat sew 
 ing in the radiance of the lamp-light. 
 
 Herries, his head bent, was tinkering at a lamp which 
 Frances insisted was out of order. 
 
 " Did ye know that Evans is sick of a bad cold? " he 
 asked, bringing forth his first item from his budget of 
 gossip, as the peddler who knows his business draws 
 forth the wares from his pack. He unrolls the goods 
 with a quick jerk, then gathers it up in his hands, that 
 the fabric may catch the light on its surfaces. His eyes 
 are upon yours. If you show interest, he explains, ca- 
 
 63
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 joles. If he reads genuine indifference, he shrugs his 
 shoulders and produces a more tempting vanity. 
 
 " Sick in bed," Herries repeated with unction. 
 " Fool ! He's helpless as a baby. He can't * bach ' any 
 more than Campbell here." 
 
 Frances looked up quickly. " I was wondering why 
 I had not seen him for a day or two. What a pity ! I 
 wish," wistfully, " that something could be done ; but 
 if you try to help in such cases you're more likely to 
 blunder instead, and do more harm than good." 
 
 " Aye," said Campbell suddenly, " unless the Word 
 comes, ye must do nothing. It is hard to learn the 
 lesson to wait, wait, until we are led." 
 
 " Poor Evans ! " Herries twisted his mouth. " He's 
 so used to being managed ; he's no idea how to take care 
 of himself. He's been swaddled too long." 
 
 "Ain't he got the nice, kind eyes, though?" said 
 Ethel, straightening her bowed figure, which had been 
 bent over the stove. At the request of Frances, she was 
 preparing coffee and setting out some little cakes. 
 "Kmd of patient, dumb eyes, just like a dog's that 
 gets a licking every now and then." 
 
 Herries gave one of his loud, discordant peals of 
 laughter. " That's it," slapping his knee. " You hit 
 the nail on the head that time, Ethel ; you hit the nail 
 on the head. And if you'll notice, Evans's kind always 
 marry the little, spitfire devils of women, who keep a 
 whip handy and don't scruple to use it." 
 
 " Oh, Mis' Evans ain't so worse, now," remonstrated 
 Ethel vaguely, beginning to pour the strong, steam- 
 
 64
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 ing coffee into the cups on the table. " Here's your 
 coffee, Mr. Campbell oh ! " looking earnestly at the 
 quaint, motionless little figure that, with cheek resting 
 on hand, sat staring at the fire. " Don't pay no atten 
 tion to him," her voice hushed to tenderness and cau 
 tion; "just let him be." 
 
 Herries laid his knife and the various sections of the 
 lamp carefully on the table and took the cup of coffee 
 from her. 
 
 " Have ye heard that * Shock ' O'Brien has married 
 the Black Pearl? " he asked Ethel, speaking with cas 
 ual indifference, but with a sly, avid glance from under 
 his brows, to make sure that she fully appreciated the 
 importance of this next bit of news. " The boys thought 
 he must have been drunk when he did it, but Dan May- 
 hew saw them in Denver the other day and he says that 
 Shock's plumb crazy about her and that they're coming 
 here to live." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said Ethel, with a gratifying inter 
 est. " My ! I've heard of her good and plenty. We 
 was talkin' of Shock marryin' her over at the Garvins' 
 to-day. Walt knows her; he says she's a dream, but 
 kind of queer-like." 
 
 " I bet Walt knows her," chuckled Herries. 
 
 "I bet," agreed Ethel. 
 
 Struck by something in their tones, the Missionary 
 lifted her eyes. "Why do you say that?" she asked. 
 
 "I guess Walt knows most of her kind in several 
 States," Herries still chuckled. 
 
 Frances turned her puzzled gaze on Ethel. " I 
 
 65
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 shouldn't wonder," nodded the girl, with indifferent 
 placidity. 
 
 "Do you mean ?" asked the Missionary. 
 
 " Oh, Walt's easy, you know," explained Ethel. 
 " He's known everywhere for a kind of mark. Anybody 
 can get money out of him." 
 
 " Any woman, you mean," corrected Herries. " Men 
 haven't found it so easy." 
 
 Frances dropped her sewing in her lap and sat star 
 ing meditatively before her, the puzzled expression 
 deepening in her eyes. 
 
 " Goodness ! You ought to see the box of things 
 Lutie got out from New York this morning!" Ethel's 
 eyes dilated, her cheek flushed. " Oh, say, but they 
 were great! There was a white cloth cloak to wear in 
 the evening, she said well " with one long gasp 
 " it was the grandest thing you ever saw in your life. 
 Why," rising from her chair and using her spoon to 
 indicate effects, " it reached clear to the bottom of her 
 skirt and laid on the ground about two inches behind. 
 It was made to wear with a trail, you know, an' it had 
 first a eight-inch border of Russian sable, an' then the 
 cloth was cut away an' it had an insertion of lace set 
 in this wide " measuring above her wrist " an' on 
 each side of that, silver and gold trimming; an' the 
 sleeves was like great long wings. Then there was a 
 hat " 
 
 " It has come." Andrew Campbell's shrunken figure 
 had straightened, his voice rang out deep and musical 
 and exultant, and Ethel stopped short in the full tide 
 
 66
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 of her rapid speech. Her whole face changed. Her 
 eyes became rapt, ecstatic, her lips parted, her lithe 
 figure bent forward as if to listen the better. She was 
 a neophyte, awaiting a revelation. 
 
 " I hae puzzled long over the vairse, ' There shall be 
 no more sea.' " The mellow voice echoed through the 
 room, and each word as he spoke it seemed invested 
 with a new and luminous meaning. " I hae wondered 
 long about it, but now, even now, as I sat here, this 
 vanished away, and I found myself in my ain country, 
 and Ruth was with me. Ye ken," turning to Frances 
 with gentle courtesy, " that being no longer in the 
 flesh, she has progressed greatly, and she said that 
 it meant this : that the sea divides the land and is ever 
 a barrier to be crossed, and so it stands as a sign of 
 separation ; but, at last, love shall blot it out and there 
 shall be no more parting." 
 
 Ethel gazed at him with the tenderest, most awed 
 admiration. " Ain't that grand ! " with a catch in her 
 voice. " You certainly are right in the Kingdom of 
 Heaven, Mr. Campbell. Oh," standing with upraised 
 eyes and clasping her hands on her heart, " I wisht we 
 was all there ! " 
 
 " I hae studied and studied over it," he repeated 
 earnestly, " and waited for Ruth ; but it was long be 
 fore she came. It is sometimes very long before she 
 comes," with a kind of patient pathos. " I tried also 
 to discuss it with Mrs. Landvetter, but," shaking his 
 head pityingly, " the meesteries are withheld from 
 her." 
 
 67
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " You bet they are," grinned Herries. 
 
 " It must be the whole secret love," murmured the 
 Missionary, and in her gaze was something of the awe 
 that touched Ethel's face. 
 
 Campbell looked at her with surprise in his strangely 
 clear eyes. "Must be? Is!" strongly. "Though I 
 speak with the tongues of men and of angels though 
 I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains 
 though I give my body to be burned " he mut 
 tered. 
 
 Frances continued to look at him, the mystic light 
 that shone always in his eyes kindling in hers. 
 
 " Oh, I wish I knew what to do ! " she cried. " Why 
 isn't the right word given to me to help Mr. and Mrs. 
 Evans. For the last two Sundays I've tried to preach 
 love and forgiveness, hoping it would melt their hearts ; 
 but there they both sat, like two stones, and I knew, I 
 felt, that I was hardening them instead of reaching 
 them." 
 
 Herries bent forward and gazed intently at her, his 
 keen face outlined against the lamp-light, the sweep 
 of white hair against the high, narrow brow, the deli 
 cately cut, aquiline nose, the crooked mouth with the 
 scornful corners and Frances, meeting his glance, felt 
 a swift and fleeting impulse of recoil. 
 
 " Melt their hearts ! " he scoffed. He bent nearer 
 still, holding her with his satirical, piercing eyes. 
 " Why don't you try your woman's wits ? " he asked. 
 " The same that you used when you conquered the 
 hosts of the Egyptians, as Campbell says." 
 
 68
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 She shrank back visibly now, and lifted one hand, 
 palm outward, before her eyes. " Oh, don't remind me 
 of that ! " There was pain in her voice. 
 
 He laughed again. "Why not? What were your 
 wits given you for but to use. That's where you're 
 strong, when you use the methods that come natural to 
 you. You'll never learn to handle any others properly, 
 no matter how hard you try. And you'll never bring 
 Evans and his wife together by preaching love and 
 forgiveness. Pish ! " He twisted his mouth awry. " Use 
 your wits ! " 
 
 Frances sat late that night, thinking. 
 
 69
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 the next morning, long before the sun had 
 begun to make its tardy appearance over the peaks, 
 Frances, with a little covered basket on her arm, walked 
 up the hill to " Old Man Beebee's " cabin, occupied at 
 the present by Silas Evans. 
 
 It was a dreary, unpainted little shack, close beside 
 a great slate-coloured ore-dump from one of the mines, 
 while behind it stretched a steeply rising and desolate 
 expanse of bare hillside. The Missionary knocked two 
 or three times, and finally, meeting with no response, 
 lifted the latch and entered. The cabin was cold and 
 still. As her eyes became accustomed to the dim light 
 which fell through the small window, she saw that 
 Evans lay in a profound, if restless, sleep upon a bunk 
 in the corner, his arms tossed ab'ove his head, his 
 browned face a sickly clay colour. There was no fire in 
 the broken, rusty stove, no furniture save an old chair 
 and a table covered with a few greasy, battered cook 
 ing utensils; the ceaseless mountain wind whistled 
 through the cracks of the rough, board walls an eerie 
 continuous sigh. 
 
 As noiselessly as possible, Frances began to build a 
 fire; but in spite of her precautions Evans roused and, 
 lifting himself on one elbow, gazed at her with dazed 
 eyes, muttering incoherent words. As he gradually 
 
 70
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 comprehended her simple explanations of her presence 
 she was a neighbour and had heard that he was ill 
 he ventured gruff and shamefaced remonstrance, and 
 would evidently have been well pleased to have her 
 leave him ; but, unheeding his protests, she continued to 
 build the fire, tidy up the cabin, and prepare his break 
 fast in so matter-of-fact a way, with so few words, and 
 a demeanour of such calm cheerfulness, that the 
 wretched and forlorn man was visibly- heartened and 
 encouraged. Gradually his nervous apprehension that 
 she might refer .to the difficulty between his wife and 
 himself wore away, and when Frances finally left him, 
 with his breakfast on the chair by his side and yester 
 day's newspaper in his hand, his dreary dejection was 
 unmistakably lightened. 
 
 And she, too, walked down the hill with a pleasant 
 sense of satisfaction, almost of exhilaration. The sun 
 had by this time surmounted the peaks and shone in 
 the deep blue sky, the young leaves were fluttering in 
 the breeze, the blue jays and magpies flew from tree to 
 tree. And as Frances drew in great draughts of the 
 delicious air there was a fresh spring to her step and 
 an almost gay light in her eye. She sang a little under 
 her breath as she walked. 
 
 But just as she reached her own door and was some 
 what reluctantly entering, she heard a footstep behind 
 her on the little bridge, and turning, met Garvin's 
 gaze. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Garvin ! You were coming to 
 see me? Come in." She threw open the door. " You 
 
 71
 
 have never seen my home since I rented it from you, 
 have you? " 
 
 He did not restrain an exclamation of surprise as 
 he followed her across the threshold. " Why, I never 
 would have known the place! It don't look much as it 
 did when the boys * bached ' here. Well, well, what a 
 woman can do ! " He looked about him and then at her, 
 and was struck by the fitness of her surroundings to 
 herself. He was a man with an instinctive love of order 
 and simplicity, and the things which spoke of a disci 
 plined and ordered life appealed to him. 
 
 Frances, divesting herself of her hat and coat, had 
 taken a chair opposite him, and now waited to hear his 
 reasons for calling upon her, for this, she felt intui 
 tively, was not the mere conventional visit of landlord 
 to tenant; but whatever the importance of his errand 
 might be, Garvin had apparently forgotten it. He sat 
 gazing absently, if earnestly, at the missionary, noting 
 the full sweep of her dark hair from her brow, the 
 smooth, shining braids at the back of her head, the neat 
 black gown, severe and devoid of ornamentation as a 
 nun's robe, and the fresh white linen collar at her 
 throat. 
 
 He could not understand his first impression of her, 
 could not reconcile it with the varying one of the 
 present. The first night he had seen her she had struck 
 him as a plain, dark, insignificant woman with a pleas 
 ing manner. Insignificant! Was it possible that he had 
 ever thought that? Insignificant! With that poise, that 
 composure, which spoke of a perfectly controlled nerv- 
 
 72
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 ous energy ! And what a picture she made now ! Gar- 
 vin loved pictures. Sitting there in her black gown 
 in the straight chair, the rough, whitewashed wall be 
 hind her, and the open window with the muslin cur 
 tain fluttering in the spring breeze, the spring sun 
 shine flooding the velvety green leaves and the scarlet 
 blossoms of the geraniums on the sill. There was one 
 crimson cluster just beyond the sweep of her dark 
 hair. He liked the steady directness of her gaze, that 
 clear, pale cheek. How nice a woman's face was with 
 out paint ! 
 
 " Well, Mr. Garvin ? " She was looking at him in 
 some surprise. 
 
 "Oh!" starting and flushing darkly. "Oh, I beg 
 your pardon I I got to thinking. Miss Benson, I 
 came to speak to you about Lutie." The harassed lines 
 showed again upon his face. " She's in a bad way, poor 
 girl. She had an attack yesterday, a more violent one 
 than she has yet suffered from, and I telegraphed a 
 lung specialist in Denver last night. He'll be here this 
 morning at twelve and go back on the two o'clock 
 train. I had his answer a short time ago," fingering a 
 yellow slip of paper, " and I thought I would come up 
 here before I went home and ask you if you couldn't 
 come in and see her a few minutes after he's gone, just 
 as if you'd happened to come in of your own accord, 
 you know. Poor girl ! " with a sigh. " It's pretty rough 
 on her. I'm hoping the doctor will think she can be 
 moved. I'd take her away at once then. You see, there's 
 so little to amuse and interest her here, and she gets so 
 
 73
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 tired of everything. That is her disease, of course. 
 She's taken a great fancy to you, Miss Benson. Lutie's 
 only a child, you know." 
 
 The words, but far more than the words, the tone, 
 were at once a defence and a plea, and Frances's heart 
 went out to him in sudden, spontaneous gratitude. 
 Then she felt those gentler emotions chill and congeal. 
 Why should he not defend Lutie and plead for her? 
 Was it not through him that the plea and the defence 
 had become a necessity? She remembered the insinua 
 tions made by Herries and accepted by Ethel the night 
 before, and gazing at him, she unconsciously followed 
 his previous example and fell to musing. How impos 
 sible it was to judge by appearances. Garvin, harassed 
 by anxiety and worn with sleepless nights, looked almost 
 ascetic, and yet, Herries and even Ethel 
 
 " Then you will come? " 
 
 It was her turn to start. " Of course," hastily. " I 
 will spend all afternoon with her if she cares to have 
 me." 
 
 " Thank you." His gratitude, quietly expressed, was 
 yet so sincere as to be touching. He fingered the cover 
 of a book on the table. 
 
 "You are fond of reading?" 
 
 " I think so," she replied, raising her candid eyes to 
 his. " I would be if I let myself. I never have much 
 time to read." 
 
 " I have a great many books," he said. " I would be 
 pleased to have you feel at perfect liberty to use them. 
 I got a new box last night, but they are mostly scien- 
 
 74
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 tific works." He purposely strove to prolong the con 
 versation, the rest that her little room afforded him, 
 the easing of unceasing nervous tension, the content 
 that swept over him, made him realise that he was a 
 desperately tired man. 
 
 " You are very fond of reading, are you not ? " 
 He drew his hand across his brow. " Yes oh, yes. 
 It's about all I care for. I'm a pretty busy man. I've 
 got a lot of interests that require almost constant look 
 ing after; but I've got to read, I suppose," with a 
 smile, " that I take my reading as some men do drugs. 
 Well," rising reluctantly, " I must go." 
 
 " And I will see Mrs. Garvin this afternoon soon 
 after two." 
 
 " Thank you," he said again. " Good-bye." 
 After he had closed the door behind him Frances sat 
 with her chin on her hand, looking rather vaguely be 
 fore her. The first time she had seen Garvin she had 
 regarded him as a man with a strong, plain face. 
 Strong it assuredly was ; but could a face revealing so 
 much character ever be called plain? It expressed 
 courage, endurance, the power of clear, steady judg 
 ment and the focussed will; but there was the cynicism 
 of the eyes, the suggestion of recklessness, or or hard 
 ness, she could not quite define it about the mouth. It 
 was a face that* suggested a thousand histories to her 
 and revealed none. She fancied that he was a man who 
 had once possessed illusions and ideals and had suf 
 fered keenly at their departure. She was not a woman, 
 however, who allowed herself much time for dreaming, 
 
 75
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 and she caught up her sewing with a feeling of impa 
 tience at herself. There were other matters that needed 
 her attention far more than a study of Walter Garvin's 
 characteristics. There was the estrangement of the 
 Evanses and the wretched situation of Silas. That was 
 a problem demanding solution. 
 
 These were enough to occupy her mind until she set 
 out on her promised visit to Lutie that afternoon ; but 
 after crossing her little bridge, she turned back to 
 secure heavier wraps and an umbrella. The sky had 
 grown grey, the air cold, and the clouds were trail 
 ing long, fleecy streamers across the foot of the peaks ; 
 the wind, too, had risen, and it was with difficulty that 
 she made her way against it to Garvin's door. 
 
 Once within, and surrounded by its heavily uphol 
 stered splendours, her mind reverted to old Andrew 
 Campbell's phrase " the palace of his light-o'-love " 
 cruelly ironical, it seemed to her now, after being ad 
 mitted into the scarlet and white boudoir with the Wat- 
 teau young men and maidens and the merry cardinals 
 smiling from the walls. The room was full of the odour 
 of stimulants, and high among her scarlet cushions lay 
 the poor, fading light-o'-love, her feeble flame almost 
 snuffed out. At first sight of her, Frances barely re 
 pressed an exclamation. She was like some ghastly 
 mummer in a morbid masquerade, Death leading the 
 dance, with roses crowning his skull and his jaws fixed 
 in a grin of terrible mirth. 
 
 In honour of the great specialist who had journeyed 
 up to see her for an incredible fee, Lutie had decked 
 
 76
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 herself as if for a ball. A delicate pink robe fell 
 about her in long folds, elaborately embroidered with a 
 border of apple blossoms, and from this depended a 
 foam of laces that a duchess might envy. Her hair, 
 dressed by Ethel's hands, was piled high on her head, 
 and in it sparkled diamonds which dazzled the eye with 
 their white blaze. About her wasted throat and all 
 over the bosom of her gown were gleaming jewels; but 
 they were scarcely more glittering than her eyes, and 
 the hectic flush of fever flamed under the paint that lay 
 thick on her sunken cheeks. 
 
 As Frances entered she ceased to finger the long rope 
 of jewels about her neck and turned to her guest with 
 an eager j oy. 
 
 " My Lord ! But I'm glad to see you," she cried, 
 struggling to rise, and then falling back on her pil 
 lows. " They've bothered the life out of me to-day," 
 fretfully. " Walt," with a kind of impatient pride, 
 " got frightened about me because he didn't think I 
 was improving as fast as I ought to, and nothing would 
 do but he had to telegraph for Adams down to Den 
 ver. Crazy! I'm gettin' better every day. Adams was 
 an awful nice man, though. He told me all about the 
 opera and the theatres and all, and he says there ain't 
 a society woman in Denver that's got jewels that can 
 touch mine. Oh, how nice you feel ! " She held Fran 
 ces's cool, firm hands between her own moist, restless 
 palms, and then laid them against her fevered cheek. 
 " Oh, you don't know how you rest me ! I can breathe 
 easier the minute you come into the room." 
 
 77
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " Then rest," urged Frances, drawing a chair be 
 side her. " I shall be here for two or three hours. Try 
 and sleep a little, Lutie." 
 
 " I believe I could, if you sit right there. I feel sort 
 of restless, and yet I'm so tired," Lutie's eyes 
 drooped heavily. Then she reached out, and again 
 clutching Frances's hand laid it against her cheek. 
 From time to time she broke her increasing drowsiness 
 with muttered phrases; but at last she slept more or 
 less fitfully, for perhaps an hour. Frances's arm grew 
 numb to the shoulder, but still she sat motionless as a 
 statue. Suddenly Lutie awoke with a nervous start, a 
 look of fright in her eyes. " Oh ! " with a sigh of re 
 lief. " I thought you'd gone. I guess I dreamed it. 
 Well, I feel better. Say," with a return of animation, 
 " did I tell you that that big doctor said there wasn't 
 a woman in Denver had stones that's a patch on mine? 
 He ought to know, oughtn't he? I guess if he only 
 knew it, there's mighty few of 'em that's got the 
 clothes I got, either. Did Ethel tell you about the big 
 box that come the other night? Hats and evening 
 wraps an' dresses an' everything. Ethel went crazy 
 over 'em, like she always does, an' then she remembered 
 her conscience and wouldn't look at them any more. I 
 call that silly, don't you? I wish Walt would come, I 
 want him to show you some of 'em. You know there's 
 been an almost complete alteration in the styles this 
 spring. If Walt was only here! I don't like those 
 Chinamen to handle them with their dirty fingers." 
 
 It was evident that nothing really interested her but 
 
 78
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 her frocks and jewels. It was as though, in the decline 
 of her physical strength, some fierce and counter 
 acting energy gained life, expressing itself in this 
 strange persistence of frivolous and futile passions. 
 
 Frances, who had little knowledge of toilettes and 
 less interest in them, regarded it as a phase of disease 
 and listened patiently. Presently, in the midst of these 
 broken and gasping descriptions, the door opened 
 softly and Angel entered, her elaborate and expensive 
 frock, as usual, mud-splashed and torn. 
 
 " For pity's sake ! " exclaimed her mother. " At 
 last ! Well, I think it's about time. Miss Benson, she 
 hasn't been near me for two whole days. Now, what 
 do you think of that? Come here." 
 
 Angel paid no more heed to this request than if it 
 had not been voiced, but walked over and stood before 
 the Missionary, regarding her steadily with her limpid 
 eyes. She had evidently just come in from the open 
 air. Her brown curls were tossed over her head, the 
 colour of wild roses was on her cheek, and she bore 
 into the drug-laden chamber the fresh fragrance of 
 all out-doors. 
 
 " Where's Lambie? " asked Frances politely, to open 
 the conversation. 
 
 " I don't know," she replied indifferently. " Hunting 
 or fishing, I guess. He told me dis morning he wouldn't 
 be back all day, not till evening." 
 
 " Now, Angel, don't tell lies," admonished Lutie. 
 
 " He did," affirmed the child. She looked at Frances 
 with inscrutable eyes, which suddenly became incred- 
 
 79
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 ibly sly, and thrust a pointed, pink tongue between her 
 teeth ; her whole expression seemed full of feline sug 
 gestion. " He says, * Miew-ow-ow.' ' 
 
 The Missionary was so plainly taken aback by this 
 uncanny exhibition that Angel, feeling the gratifica 
 tion of the artist at the effect produced, was stirred to 
 fresh efforts. 
 
 " Wang talks sis way." Her eyes narrowed and 
 seemed to slant upward, her mouth became a slit, she 
 swayed her head slightly to and fro after the manner of 
 Wang, and poured forth a flood of " pidgin Eng 
 lish," with every intonation faultlessly reproduced. 
 
 Frances and her mother both burst into laughter. 
 
 "Did you ever see such a mimic?" asked Lutie. 
 " And she'll hardly ever show off, either. Come, Angel, 
 now you're started, show how old Campbell looks and 
 talks." 
 
 Angel was in one of her rare, complaisant moods, 
 and, ruffling her curls over her brow and cheeks, she 
 peered from this mass of simulated whiskers, whilo 
 from her baby lips rang a curiously exact representa 
 tion of the old man's rich, bell-like tones. She even 
 drew a chair opposite Frances, and seating herself, 
 leaned forward, thrusting out her lower jaw, and draw 
 ing down the corners of her mouth until it assumed bitter 
 curves, a harsh laugh meanwhile issuing from her lips ; 
 " Mr. Herries," she announced, although Frances 
 needed no explanation. 
 
 " Ain't she a wonder ! " said her mother with pride. 
 '* My ! you ought to seen her the other day. Mis' 
 
 80
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 Nitschkan was here, and Angel just sat and stared at 
 her like she was fascinated. Well, after Nitschkan had 
 gone, that child took her off, and I d'clare, you couldn't 
 have told that the old gipsy wasn't in the room. An' 
 she's got a memory a yard long. She can remember 
 everything she hears. I tell you what, that kid's going 
 to be an actress one of the real headliners ain't you, 
 Angel? With her looks, and her talent, and all Walt 
 can give her, I bet she'll live on Easy Street all her life, 
 even if her mother didn't what's that ? " nervously, as 
 a soft whining and scratching at the door became 
 audible. " Now, Angel, don't you let any of your 
 beasts in here." 
 
 Angel listened intently a moment. " It's White 
 Puppy," she said. " I know his scratch. He wants me 
 to come out. He talks to me sis way : ' Bow-wow ! ' : 
 She barked and whined a second like a little dog, eye 
 ing Frances the while with an elfin malice and mischief ; 
 then apparently satisfied with the astonishment and 
 appreciation of her audience, she yielded to the insist 
 ent demands for her presence on the other side of the 
 door and joined the only companion for which she ever 
 showed anything approaching affection. 
 
 Frances, too, arose, as the afternoon was growing 
 late, and there was still something she intended to do. 
 
 " You're awful good to stay with me so long," said 
 Lutie gratefully. "You'll come often, won't you? 
 Why, Miss Benson, I just felt drawn to you the first 
 moment I saw you ; but you didn't like me at first, did 
 you? No," shaking her head, "you didn't. You kind 
 
 81
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 o' drew back from me, I could see it. I suppose," with 
 the effort to appreciate another point of view, " that 
 to anyone that looks at things like you got to, being 
 a Missionary it seems awful for people not to be 
 married. I suppose you couldn't help blaming me." 
 
 She spoke with a pathos which revealed that she knew 
 the deep, eternal, feminine anguish of being her sex's 
 scorn; and in an illuminating flash, Frances realised 
 that her pride in her laces and jewels all her flaunt 
 ing possessions lay deeper than mere trivial vanity. 
 She prized and clung to them because they served to 
 restore her self-esteem, and in a measure effected her 
 social rehabilitation. She was but following, un 
 consciously perhaps, her feminine instinct for retalia 
 tion, and on the only lines which might avail. If con 
 temned, she would also be envied. 
 
 " Oh, Lutie ; poor, dear Lutie, I never blamed you ! " 
 Frances knelt beside her and held her thin hands closely 
 in hers. " Never." Her eyes glowed sombrely, her 
 mouth shut in a hard line. There were hot rebellion and 
 resentment in her heart. She seemed to see a long, an 
 unending line of Luties, butterflies with the iridescent 
 dust brushed rudely from their torn and bedraggled 
 wings, those gossamer wings made to float on sun 
 beams. 
 
 " I blame him," she cried involuntarily. 
 
 " Not Walt? " Lutie dragged away her hands and 
 struggled to a half-sitting position. " I guess you're 
 on the wrong tack. Huh," with a short laugh, " you 
 don't know Walt, nor what he took me from. You 
 
 82
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 ain't got an idea how Angel and me happen to be here. 
 Why, while Walt was down prospecting in Nevada, he 
 was dickering with my husband for a mine. He stopped 
 at our cabin, and I cooked for 'em, so, of course, I 
 saw a good deal of him." She paused a moment, her 
 eyes dilating curiously, as she gazed into that past 
 whence she had escaped; then, with a hard little laugh, 
 she went on : "I could tell you things that'd make you 
 sit up and take notice, Missioner, about what my life 
 was; but what's the use? Put it all in a nutshell and 
 let it go at one word hell. I was beginning to get sick 
 even then, and one day Walt come in and found me, all 
 knocked black and blue. Well, you ought to seen him! 
 He wasted no time in tying on my hat and cloak, and 
 the same for Angel, and he says : ' I can't stand it 
 any longer, Lutie. You and the child got to come with 
 me, and come now ! ' Say, I can hear the whistle of that 
 train yet 'way, far in the distance, and when we got 
 on and fairly started and Walt put some pillows round 
 me in the seat, I knew I was in heaven. I can't think 
 of heaven in any other way just that little old parlour 
 car. We went to Southern California, and we certainly 
 had an awful fine time. Walt bought me jewels and 
 everything, and I always did love pretty things, but 
 I didn't seem to get well. The doctors said it would take 
 a long time, 'cause I'd had such bad treatment. But 
 do you know, Miss Benson," lifting piteous eyes, " I 
 ain't never spoke of this to anybody but you; I don't 
 even like to think of it, 'cause it makes me so unhappy ; 
 but even at first, spite of his being so good to me and 
 
 83
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 all, I had a kind of an idea that Walt didn't really 
 love me. I don't believe he really loves me now; he just 
 feels sorry for me." She threw her arms out upon the 
 pillow, and burying her face in them, sobbed. 
 
 " Lutie, Lutie," soothed Frances, her whole heart 
 going out to the bruised, dependent creature. " He does 
 love you I know it. You get such ideas because you 
 are ill. It's just a sick fancy." 
 
 " Maybe," sighed Lutie. " But you'll come to-mor 
 row? Promise." 
 
 *' I'll come whenever you want me." 
 
 " Listen ! " exclaimed Lutie, lifting her head. 
 " That's Walt's step." She carefully wiped away all 
 traces of tears, her handkerchief showing, as a result, 
 heavy smears of rouge. " He's just come down from the 
 mines." 
 
 In verification of her words, Garvin entered presently 
 in his high boots and corduroys. His worn face 
 brightened when he saw Frances still there. 
 
 " Miss Benson, it is good of you to come in and cheer 
 up Lutie while I had to be away." He shook hands 
 with her, exchanging a smile of mutual comprehension 
 over their innocent deception, although, to do the Mis 
 sionary justice, hers was faintly deprecating. 
 
 "Wasn't it?" smiled Lutie. "Say, Walt," with 
 pouting coquetry, " you ain't noticed my swell get- 
 up." 
 
 " Goodness ! You're fine ! " admired Garvin. " And 
 all your jewels! You must have been trying to dazzle 
 the doctor, weren't you? Oh, that dress 's a beauty!" 
 
 84
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 " Did you notice the apple blossoms and the lace? " 
 she asked eagerly. 
 
 He lifted a corner of the robe and examined the 
 delicately embroidered flowers. " They're great, aren't 
 they? Sure, they're not real?" affecting to smell 
 them. 
 
 " Oh, Walt, ain't you crazy ! " she laughed delight 
 edly. " And the lace you ought to scold me about that 
 lace, Walt. It cost twenty-five hundred dollars. But 
 that's nothing to you, is it? " 
 
 " No," he replied laconically, " that's nothing. You 
 can't spend it as fast as it pours in, child, no matter 
 how hard you try." 
 
 His face had fallen again into its sad, granite-like 
 repose, and Frances apprehended in some way that he 
 brooded over the thought of how little his wealth could 
 really bring him. Meeting her glance suddenly, he 
 smiled, and then gazed at her keenly. She looked a 
 little tired. " Come, Miss Benson," he said, rising, " I 
 want you to see my library; Lutie has been exhibiting 
 her jewels, now I want you to see mine." 
 
 " Yes, go," urged Lutie. " Maybe you like books ; I 
 don't care much about them, except some of the picture 
 magazines." 
 
 As Frances and Garvin walked down the hall to 
 gether to his library, she felt a new respect and a real 
 admiration for him. His kindness toward Lutie, his 
 unfailing tenderness and patience with her, aroused 
 a sentiment of vicarious gratitude in the Missionary's 
 heart, and she showed her change of feeling by cast- 
 
 85
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 ing aside the rather cold reserve of manner with which 
 she had formerly met him. 
 
 " Does the doctor think Lutie can be moved ? " she 
 asked in a low voice just as they reached the library 
 door. 
 
 He shook his head. " He considers her worse even 
 than I feared," he sadly replied. " He has ordered a 
 change of treatment, however, and will be up again in 
 a few days' time. But you have had enough to bother 
 you to-day. Come." 
 
 The library was a large and lofty room, austerely 
 furnished in dark leather, with walls almost completely 
 covered with bookshelves, beginning at the floor and 
 running up to the ceiling; the tables, too, were cov 
 ered with books, papers, and the graver reviews. 
 
 Frances could not fail to notice that, here in his own 
 domain, Garvin became a different man ; the weariness 
 vanished from his face, his whole expression lightened 
 and brightened, he was alert and interested. He showed 
 her his various editions with an affectionate pride, han 
 dling them lovingly, as he explained their beauties to 
 her, and she, listening with rapt attention, felt as if the 
 gates of a new world had opened to her the calm, 
 lofty, secluded world of the intellect. 
 
 Here was evidently Garvin's real treasure, and here, 
 too, was his heart. This library of his was a source 
 of riches to him, beside which the yellow stream which 
 ran from his golden treasure-houses in the bowels of 
 the earth afforded him no commensurate return. 
 
 " I love to hear about these things," cried Frances, 
 
 86
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 with one of her rare outbursts of enthusiasm. " I I 
 am very ignorant. I've been too busy always to read 
 much." 
 
 " As I told you this morning," he said, evidently 
 gratified by her pleasure, " I am delighted to have you 
 come here and read, or take any of the books as often 
 as you choose." 
 
 " Thank you." She held out her hand with one of 
 her attractive smiles. " I must go now. I have stayed 
 far longer than I should. I have a matter on hand 
 which must be attended to to-night." 
 
 87
 
 IT was as wild an evening as the afternoon had 
 seemed to presage ; the rain was falling in fitful dashes, 
 and the mountain wind was piercingly keen. Frances, 
 however, did not follow her inclination and hasten on 
 to the warm solitude of her cabin ; but with her mission 
 firmly in mind, turned up the road toward the home of 
 Mrs. Evans. 
 
 After she had knocked at the door and been admitted 
 by one of the children, she found to her relief that Mrs. 
 Evans had also just reached home after her trip to the 
 station and was divesting herself of the heavy wraps 
 she had worn as a protection against the weather. 
 This emotion was speedily mitigated by the sight of 
 Mrs. Thomas, Mrs. Landvetter, and Mrs. Nitschkan 
 sitting comfortably about the stove, sipping coffee and 
 engaged in the pleasure of unrestrained and unham 
 pered conversation possible to such well-cemented inti 
 macies. 
 
 " Why, Miss Benson ! " called Mrs. Evans from an 
 inner room, overhearing the polite and even effusive 
 greeting accorded Frances by the ladies about the fire. 
 " This is sure good of you to come in such a day. 
 Eolanthe, set up a chair for Miss Benson. I'll be out 
 in a second." 
 
 88
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 " Well, if this ain't a sight for sore eyes," cooed 
 Mrs. Thomas affectionately. " Let me help you off with 
 your gums, Missioner." 
 
 " It sure is," agreed Mrs. Nitschkan breezily. 
 " What you want's a steamin' cup of coffee, Missioner ; 
 sugar an' cream? " proceeding to pour the strong 
 coffee into a cup, with a necessary accompaniment of 
 noise. 
 
 " It vas an awful day, vasn't it ? " asked Mrs. Land- 
 vetter, looking up from her lace needles and adding her 
 mite to the general cordiality. 
 
 " Pretty bad," replied the Missionary, taking a seat, 
 and picking up the baby who had toddled to meet her; 
 " but it's so cheerful in here that you soon forget the 
 weather outside." 
 
 "My! I just got soaked to the skin driving up 
 from the station," continued the voice from an inner 
 chamber. " Wait till I get some of these duds off and 
 some dry ones on, and I'll be right out. Celora, did you 
 keep up the fire in the kitchen while I was gone? I 
 wisht you'd stay for supper, Miss Benson; not that 
 there's anything to tempt you, Lord knows; but why 
 can't you stay and take potluck with me and the chil 
 dren? The other ladies say they got to go on." 
 
 Frances reflected a moment. This was evidently her 
 opportunity. " I will be glad to," she replied, " if you 
 won't go to any trouble for me." 
 
 " It's no trouble, I assure you, Miss Benson." Mrs. 
 Evans, trim as a neat brown wren, appeared and took 
 her place in the circle about the fire. " How would you 
 
 69
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 like some muffins? Now, I'm ready to sit down and 
 chat. Celora, you can break some eggs for mommie." 
 
 " Missioner, I seen you goin' to Walt Garvin's this 
 afternoon. What did that big doctor say about 
 Lutie?" asked Mrs. Nitschkan eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, dat's vat ve all vant to know," muttered Mrs. 
 Landvetter. 
 
 " I didn't see the doctor," returned Frances non- 
 committally. 
 
 The ladies understood that further questioning was 
 unnecessary. 
 
 " I'm a givin' her about a month more," affirmed 
 Mrs. Nitschkan, with finality. 
 
 " I guess." Mrs. Landvetter slowly shook her head. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas sighed heavily. " Ethel says she ain't 
 made no preparations at all. She don't think of one 
 thing but clothes and such, and you all know that 
 nothin' could be perishinger. Ethel feels awful about 
 her unpreparedness ; she says she can't sleep at night 
 for thinkin' of it, and she feels all the time like she's 
 called to be a instrument; so the other day, she drug 
 old man Campbell to see Lutie. She reasoned that if 
 he could do what he done for her, he could save a stick 
 or a stone. 
 
 " Well, that very same evening, she come into our 
 house cryin* to beat the band. She says that one of 
 Campbell's despairin' spells was comin' on, only she 
 didn't know it, and that after she got him in that red 
 room of the Garvin's he seemed kind o' dazed. He just 
 get there with his wild eyes fixed on Lutie ? an' never 
 
 90
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 so much as sayin' one word of comfort or exhortation, 
 jus' every once in a while, he'd hiss out somethin' about 
 Jezebel, or the daughters of Babylon, an' ' wailin' an' 
 gnashin' of teeth.' 
 
 " An' while she was doin' her best to get him on 
 another tack, in come that devil child, Angel, am' 
 mocked him to his face, so's you couldn't tell which was 
 which. Well, as a result, Lutie got to laughin' an' 
 cryin' all at once, an' run right into the * strikes ' ; an' 
 she clutched hold of Ethel an' screamed : 4 Take him 
 away ! take him away ! he's crazy. Walt ! Walt ! Walt ! ' 
 an' Walt run in an' drove 'em all right out. Oh, it 
 must have been something fierce. Ethel was all broke 
 up, I can tell you ; but she ain't goin' to back out. She 
 says to me to-day : ' It 'most looks like I got to fight 
 the Devil single-handed for Lutie's soul; but I ain't 
 goin' to let her die in her sins,' she says. 
 
 " I tried to cheer her up the best I could. I says : 
 ' Well, Ethel, you never know what means the Lord's 
 goin' to take. Maybe somebody'll go to raisin' a rough- 
 house somewheres an' put a bullet through one or two 
 of her husbands, an' then Walt can marry her at the 
 eleventh hour.' I told that to Ethel to cheer her up; 
 but I couldn't put much faith in it myself. Things 
 don't happen that slick." Mrs. Thomas sighed more 
 heavily than before, and peered into the depths of her 
 coffee cup with as much of an expression of tragedy 
 as her soft, indefinite features could assume. 
 
 " What's the matter, Marthy ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Nitschkan robustly. " You ain't got nothin' to bother 
 
 91
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 about except how to spend that two thousand Seth left 
 you to do as you please with." 
 
 " Dere's only one way to spend it," chuckled Mrs. 
 Landvetter ; " put it down in your stockin' an' keep it 
 there." 
 
 " Listen to old Mis' Miser," scoffed Mrs. Evans. 
 " Well, Marthy, what are you goin' to do with it? " 
 
 " I'm a thinkin' of doin' up the parlour," scanning 
 the faces of her friends for signs of approval. 
 
 " Gosh a'mighty ! " murmured Mrs. Nitschkan, with 
 a portentous yawn. " I wouldn't waste good money 
 that-a-way. Get yourself a horse an' cart, pile the 
 kids in an' jant around havin' a good time. You'd 
 better believe I would. I'd bake up a mess of meat turn 
 overs and doughnuts, and the Devil could go a-courtin' 
 for all of me. I'd have a picnic every day in the year." 
 
 " Ah, shut up, Nitschkan ! " said Mrs. Evans. 
 " Don't go puttin' such ideas in Mis' Thomas's head. 
 Every woman don't want to go a-gipsyin' like you. 
 Some of us has got a little respectability and domesti 
 cation. You go ahead, Marthy, an' get your parlour 
 fixed up. Have some style about you, an' for the land's 
 sake, whitewash the kitchen ceiling; it's scaling some 
 thing fierce." 
 
 " You'd get more fun out of a horse and cart," Mrs. 
 Nitschkan asserted, a teasing gleam in her small bright 
 eyes. 
 
 " Maybe you would." Mrs. Evans emphasised the 
 pronoun ; " but it wouldn't make no show when folks 
 come to the house. You know everybody'll want to know 
 
 92
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 what you done with Thomas's insurance," speaking au 
 thoritatively to Mrs. Thomas, " an' you know your 
 self it'll look frivolous to show them a horse an' a 
 cart, with the house needin' paint, and the nap all off 
 the plush in the parlour set, an' the pillow shams on the 
 parlour bed only scalloped, not a shred of lace on 'em. 
 It wouldn't look right honest, Mis' Thomas, when 
 Thomas done so well by you an' left you all that he 
 did." 
 
 In truth, Thomas had electrified Zenith by leaving to 
 his widow what was regarded in that remote village as 
 a comfortable fortune, for he had been one who had 
 en j oy ed a bout with the earth for its fruits ; and what 
 he had gained he clutched tight from the grasp of 
 his seeking fellows. 
 
 The estate then of which Mrs. Thomas was the im 
 portant, if depressed, legatee, comprised a half interest 
 in the " Zenobia," a prospect with an excellent showing 
 on Eureka Mountain; a patch of land down in the 
 valley which was devoted to melon culture, and three 
 well-rented houses on Sunshine Avenue. This property 
 was left in trust for the widow and the children in the 
 hands of Dan Mayhew, the village lawyer and notary 
 public ; but a life insurance of two thousand dollars 
 was bequeathed exclusively to Mrs. Thomas, to be used 
 as she saw fit, and it was the proper disposal of this 
 sum which was at present troubling her vague and un 
 practical soul. 
 
 " I'll tell you what," said Mrs. Nitschkan, rising to 
 her feet and buttoning her coat about her ; " I'll be 
 
 93
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 honest, woman dear, and tell the truth. I never had no 
 use for Thomas in life. I can see him yet, lookin' at 
 me with that black, twisted smile of his'n and sayin' 
 things that you couldn't 'a* helped swattin' him for if 
 he'd had his lights. 
 
 " That hole where his lungs ought to have been was 
 all that saved him from me again and again ; but I do 
 say this, and I'll say it loud enough for everyone to 
 hear, that the way he's left you, woman dear, is an 
 example" to every man in the camp. Maybe you think I 
 ain't rubbed it into Jack." 
 
 She but voiced the universal feminine sentiment in 
 Zenith. There had been no hesitation, no slack work 
 in the endeavour to rub it into every separate Jack. 
 
 " Well, it's time we was moving on. Pull yourself 
 out of that chair, Landvetter. Come, Marthy. Stop in 
 soon an* see me, Missioner." 
 
 " And me," echoed Mrs. Thomas. 
 
 " Und me," from Mrs. Landvetter. 
 
 " Say, Missioner," said Mrs. Evans, after she had 
 returned from seeing her guests to the front door, 
 " I was tellin' the girls just before you come in, a 
 preacher come to camp to-night. I drove him up to 
 the Thorn House a while back. He's a lunger, of 
 course. I told him about you, and he says he was goin* 
 to call on you to-morrow. He's a tall, spindlin' fellow, 
 kind of meek-looking ; sort of nice, too." 
 
 Frances looked up with considerable interest. " That 
 will be very nice," she said. " Perhaps he will help with 
 the Sunday school and preach occasionally. That will 
 
 94
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 give you a chance to hear some real sermons. That is, 
 if he is well enough to preach." 
 
 "Oh, I guess so; his voice sounded strong; but, 
 Missioner," looking meditatively at her guest, with a 
 softening of her bead-like eyes, " your preachin's good 
 enough for us ; it's real comfortin' and helpful." 
 
 " Oh, I can't preach." Francis drew back in genuine 
 humility and coloured deeply. " I can only talk a little 
 of the things that have helped me, and that I think may 
 help some of you ; but to really preach why, Mrs. 
 Evans, I couldn't." 
 
 " Well, call it what you please," amiably, " it suits 
 me. Oh, say, Missioner," her quick mind flying off in 
 another direction, " Shock O'Brien and his wife come 
 yesterday." 
 
 "Did they?" responded Frances. 
 
 " Yes, I drove 'em up from the station ; but that's 
 all the good it did me. I got neither sight nor sound of 
 her. Shock was like a kid, he almost hugged me, an' 
 then introduced her; but she jus' bowed, as stiff as you 
 please. Her face was all tied up in a veil an' she had 
 on one of them big, loose coats, an' I couldn't tell no 
 more'n the man in the moon what she looked like. 
 
 " They've taken that nice little frame house of 
 Marthy Thomas's on Sunshine Avenue, and Shock was 
 out paintin' it this morning. It'll seem funny to see a 
 painted house in Zenith, won't it? 
 
 " The boys that seen this here f Black Pearl,' as they 
 call her, says she's a beauty." 
 
 " Is she? " said Frances dreamily, and evidencing no 
 
 95
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 especial interest. Indeed, she scarcely heard; her mind 
 was busy with the problem before her, the task she 
 had set herself to perform. 
 
 The rain drove wildly against the windows, the wind 
 shrieked about the house, and Frances thought of Silas 
 Evans in his lonely cabin, and nerved herself to speech. 
 Moistening her lips nervously, once or twice, she drove, 
 as was her wont, straight at the subject she had in 
 mind. 
 
 " Mrs. Evans," looking steadily at her hostess, " I 
 saw Mr. Evans to-day." 
 
 The tiny woman she addressed drew herself up with 
 a hauteur worthy of a duchess. " Eolanthe," to the 
 child who leaned against her knee, " run and get mom- 
 mie a pail of water from the well. Now, Miss Benson," 
 turning to the Missionary with flashing eyes, " there is 
 some subjects that I can't feel had better be discussed. 
 Sile Evans is one of them." 
 
 Frances's dark eyes dwelt on the fire a moment, a 
 puzzled expression in their depths; then she turned to 
 Mrs. Evans with a pleading embarrassment of manner, 
 foreign to her usual composure. 
 
 " Oh, I wish I could get some light ! " she cried, 
 clasping her hands tight together. " I've prayed and 
 prayed for light about this matter, but none has been 
 vouchsafed me. I know that it is entirely your own 
 affair, and that I haven't a particle of call to meddle; 
 but oh! the hardest thing about right is to be sure 
 that it is right, and not an unwarrantable interference 
 in someone's else business. When I lie awake at night 
 
 96
 
 She turned to J/r.v. Evans icith a pleading embarrassment 
 of manner
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 and bother over my sins, it's not the bad things I've 
 done that torment me, it's the way I've meddled in 
 other folk's business, trying to do them good, and 
 Satan only knows all the harm I've done." 
 
 Mrs. Evans's eyes hardened. She carefully untied her 
 apron and then tied it again with an air of unalterable 
 resolution. 
 
 " We might just as well settle this matter now, Miss 
 Benson," she said crisply, " an' then we'll have it over 
 an' done with. I don't take no steps without first con 
 sidering them, and when I decide a thing, I decide it. 
 I ain't one to do a thing and then wish I hadn't. What 
 I do, I do once an' fer all, an' I guess Sile Evans 
 knows that well enough without comin' whining to 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Evans ! " exclaimed Frances, " you 
 mustn't think that indeed, you mustn't. He never said 
 a word about you never. But I couldn't help feeling 
 sorry for him. No woman could." 
 
 She paused a moment, seeing Mrs. Evans's face grow 
 colder and more resentful ; and in that moment, Herries' 
 words of the night before came to her like a message 
 " Use your woman's wits. You are only strong when 
 you employ the weapons that come natural to you ! " 
 
 Last night she had rejected the suggestion as un 
 worthy. To-day, in view of the immediate circum 
 stances, it seemed legitimate, even Heaven-sent. Her 
 chin lifted slightly, her eyes had quickened with that 
 exultant consciousness of power that came to her in 
 such moments. She drew a long breath, and without 
 
 97
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 altering her position or unclasping her folded hands, 
 her figure seemed in some subtle way to become in 
 formed with authority. It was woman to woman now, 
 woman who knew instinctively how to reach her own 
 sex and meant consciously and completely to use that 
 knowledge. 
 
 " You know," Frances's voice was low and even, 
 " what that wretched little cabin is, where the boards 
 don't meet by half an inch. There was his poor bunk 
 in the corner, with the thin, torn bedding, the broken- 
 down stove and no fire in it, the rusty, dirty pots and 
 pans. It all looked so wretched for a man like him. 
 You've always made him so comfortable that he's help 
 less when it comes to taking care of himself. He has a 
 dreadful cold, and he seemed so sick and forlorn that 
 I just had to come to you." 
 
 Mrs. Evans again untied her apron and this time 
 cast it from her. " For the land's sake, Miss Benson," 
 with visible impatience, " I'd 'a' thought you might at 
 least have turned in and washed the dishes for him." 
 
 " Why, no," hesitated Frances, pursuing her design, 
 " I would not have liked to suggest it." 
 
 Mrs. Evans gave a short laugh. " Well, all I can 
 say is that Christianity seems a mighty funny thing 
 now-a-days. Sile is not used to baching and he never 
 was handy. I should think common charity would have 
 made you want to clean up a bit." 
 
 She took the bowl of muffin batter from the child at 
 the table and began to beat it furiously. " Celora, set 
 the table right off, an' for Heaven's sake, take Rupert
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 Hentzau out of my way ! I never see such a child for 
 gettin' under your feet. What kind of a bed did you 
 say Sile was sleepin' on, Miss Benson? Just a cot under 
 the window, and torn bed-clothes, eh? Old man Beebee's, 
 I'll be bound, an' nobody ever did rightly know what 
 the old man died of. In under the window, too. Well, 
 Miss Benson," bitterly, " I should think for a perfessor 
 like you, your conscience would be kind of sore this 
 evening. Did you say Sile had a cold? " 
 
 " I noticed how hoarse he was and asked him about 
 it," replied Frances meekly. She might have justly re 
 sented Mrs. Evans's tone and manner ; but the heart of 
 woman knew the heart of woman, and recognised the 
 primitive voice. " He said that he had been suffering 
 from a severe cold and indigestion." 
 
 " What kind of a cold was it ? " standing with arms 
 akimbo, " in his head or on his chest ? " 
 
 " He seemed very hoarse, he could hardly speak." 
 
 " For pity's sake ! I'll tell you what it is, he's caught 
 his death sleepin' up there in that tumble-down cabin 
 on old man Beebee's bed, an' starvin' himself to death. 
 He can't cook no more than Rupert Hentzau, an' now 
 he's got a cold on his lungs. It means pleurisy to-night 
 as sure as fate. Celora, get me the cough mixture from 
 the top shelf of the closet under the stairs, an' the cov 
 ered basket. An' you never done a thing for him, Miss 
 Benson? Well, I guess I've seen enough of what they 
 call, ' the missionary sperit ' to last me quite a while." 
 
 " You were my friend," said Frances, slowly. 
 
 Mrs. Evans cocked her head scornfully. " I don't 
 
 99
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 think it's no time to be talkin' that way, Miss Benson, 
 when a human being's at the point of death. And let 
 me tell you, that you nor nobody else in this village is 
 in any position to judge Silas Evans. If there ever 
 was a good man it's him ; the kindest, truest, best hus 
 band that any woman ever had; and just because he's 
 had a streak of hard luck, everybody's against him. It 
 makes me sick ! " 
 
 " But the children ! " cried Frances, shooting the last 
 arrow in her quiver, as she watched her hostess tie on a 
 hood and slip into a jacket. " Surely, you are not going 
 out on such a night as this ! " 
 
 Mrs. Evans gave her one glance of unspeakable con 
 tempt. " I guess I don't need no old maid to tell me 
 my duty as a married woman," icily. " Let me pass, if 
 you please." But at the door, she paused with her hand 
 on the latch, and looked backward. " I would take it 
 kindly," she said, " if you'd look after the kids till 
 Sile and I get back." 
 
 And the Missionary prepared supper and played with 
 the children, with a song in her heart. She had paid the 
 first instalment on a debt. 
 
 100
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 1 HE news of the reconciliation between Evans and 
 his wife was quickly spread through the village, and 
 after a due discussion of all data bearing on the case, 
 Zenith felt itself at liberty to devote its entire attention 
 to the two recent arrivals, the Reverend Hugh Car- 
 rothers, habitually referred to as " the lunger preacher," 
 and Mrs. Jacques O'Brien, commonly known to fame as 
 " The Black Pearl." 
 
 The consensus of feminine opinion as expressed at a 
 meeting of the Ladies' Aid Society, was that Mrs. 
 O'Brien was in reality not half so beautiful as glowing 
 and overdrawn masculine accounts had portrayed her; 
 was, in fact, not beautiful at all, and that her manifold 
 and much-heralded charms were merely a figment of 
 man's erratic and incomprehensible imagination. 
 
 And to the surprise of a community to which nothing 
 that was covered was not ultimately revealed, and which 
 entered freely and familiarly at back doors, she failed 
 to comport herself in the spectacular manner which 
 might be hoped from a lady who bore so paradoxical a 
 nom de guerre, and so vivid a past. In fact, to Zenith's 
 intense disappointment, a mild and flavourless domes 
 ticity seemed her prevailing trait. She proved herself 
 a skilled cook and housekeeper, excelling even Mrs. 
 Evans in certain household art; she even devoted her- 
 
 101
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 self to so tepid an amusement as gardening, and, as the 
 summer advanced, her main interest seemed to be in the 
 little patch of ground before her doors. There she hoed, 
 and weeded, and pruned, and planted all summer long 
 among the strangely scentless and brilliant flowers she 
 loved, preferring this occupation to any others offered, 
 and others more alluring to the feminine imagination 
 were offered, for contrary to some opinions, she had 
 achieved a social position at once, accepting all over 
 tures as her due, but never seeking them ; in fact so im 
 pressive was her indifference and the general dignity of 
 her demeanour, that she was unanimously elected to 
 membership in the Aid Society without one dissenting 
 vote. 
 
 Frances never forgot the first time she saw " The 
 Pearl." She was standing with her elbows on the post 
 of a white paling gate, gazing out at the mountains 
 darkly defined against the gold of the sunset sky. Be 
 hind her was a garden flaring with the scarlet and 3 r ellow 
 flowers which had just been set out, and a cottage brave 
 in fresh paint. In the Zenith of straggling, unpainted 
 cabins, yards adorned with tin cans, broken crockery, 
 and stray bits of wire, the neat vividness of house and 
 garden presented a pictorial and artificial effect, toy- 
 like in its setting of austere and gloomy mountains; 
 but if the little dwelling seemed the expression of a 
 primitive and childlike imagination, the woman who 
 leaned upon the gate was real. 
 
 She had been standing quite still for a long time, her 
 gaze fixed on the mountains, her face held in the cup 
 
 103
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 of her hands, a long, narrow, white face, with dark eyes 
 and arched brows, which gave her a wistful and rather 
 startled expression; but her hair added a touch of in 
 congruity to her whole appearance, an exotic hint of 
 some marked dissonance and inharmony of character. 
 Densely black at the roots and about the nape of the 
 neck, the mass twisted about her head was a strange, 
 burnt-umber, with broad strands, as yellow as corn, 
 running through it, evidently coloured by a natural 
 process, bleached by burning suns. 
 
 Her husband was spading a bit of the garden behind, 
 and Frances looked at him with a deepening of the curi 
 osity she found it impossible not to feel in this much- 
 discussed pair. She thought him far handsomer than 
 the wife; the lithe elegance of the Latin races was in 
 his carriage, his features suggested a French vivacity 
 and insouciance; but the grey eyes of his Irish father 
 shone in his weak, emotional, beautiful face. 
 
 So much for a first impression of the O'Briens on the 
 Missionary's mind. Now for the Rev. Hugh Car- 
 rothers. On the whole, he tallied admirably with Mrs. 
 Evans's description of him. He was a tall, thin fellow 
 of about thirty years of age, with a gentle, rather timid 
 face, and mild wondering eyes. In coming to Zenith, 
 he had had no intention of trying to wrest from the 
 Missionary her charge ; but had merely followed the 
 advice of his physician and sought the higher altitudes 
 and the occupation of manual labour, in an endeavour 
 to recuperate from a severe illness. 
 
 He had eagerly accepted Frances's invitation to 
 103
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 preach on the first Sunday after his arrival in Zenith, 
 and on that occasion every bench in the weather-beaten, 
 unpainted little frame church was occupied, not so 
 much for the sake of profiting by his discourse as from 
 a desire to size up, as it were, the man ; to photograph 
 through the mental lenses the least variation of facial 
 expression, the slightest peculiarity of speech or manner, 
 that one might be able creditably to hold one's own in 
 the inevitable and exhaustive discussion of personal 
 traits and mental equipment. 
 
 To the casual observer, the congregation might have 
 appeared but a meagre gathering; but to the practised 
 village eye, capable of comparing it to the ordinary 
 Sunday assemblage, it was of astonishing proportions, 
 for the inhabitants of Zenith were not wont to take the 
 keen edge off the pleasure of church attendance by a 
 too frequent indulgence in its privileges. 
 
 "My!" lisped Mrs. Thomas, hastening to join her 
 friends as the congregation slowly filed out of the 
 church, and throwing back from her face, her most 
 cherished possession her new crepe veil " Wasn't he 
 great? I do like it when they begin to talk about the 
 serene Emberson and the weighty Carlyle. Now, Mis- 
 sioner, she's always handin' out our plain duty to us, 
 an' I mus' say I get tired of it. As I says to a gentle 
 man from over to Mount Tabor that was callin* on me 
 the other night, I says, ' There's other things in life be 
 sides plain duty.' J: 
 
 " I ain't so crazy about him as some," announced Mrs. 
 Evans, speaking as one from whom a somewhat critical 
 
 104
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 opinion would be expected, and with due importance, 
 for she had invited Carrothers to take dinner in her now 
 united home, and stood by the side of the dusty, moun 
 tain road awaiting his arrival. " When he kep' shout- 
 in', ' Boys, stay on the farm ! ' I couldn't hardly sit still 
 in my seat. Lord knows we can't even raise potatoes on 
 these rocks ! But Dan Mayhew tells me that he's de 
 posited at the Mount Tabor bank, had money left him 
 by his folks. He's a widower, girls. His wife's only 
 been dead a year an' that's the best time to ketch 'em. 
 Now, I was thinkin' all through the 'sermon : there's my 
 niece, Susie Hazen, over to Red Fox. She's a good, 
 steady girl, has kep' house for her Paw ever since her 
 Maw died. She's plain an' dresses sober, an' wouldn't 
 stir up no envy in any congregation he might get after 
 his lungs are cured up. Anyway, I don't want that 
 Tom Eagen hangin' around her." 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan, her Sunday attire unchanged from 
 its week-day masculine simplicity, snapped her fingers 
 in sturdy contempt : " My patience ! You won't find one 
 of them serious moon-gazers of men that ever run after 
 the plain, steady kind. They're took in every time by 
 some flighty, sassy bit of uselessness." 
 
 " Yes, Mis' Evans," corroborated Mrs. Thomas with 
 a serpent-like wisdom born of an extensive knowledge 
 of the masculine heart: "You just watch. You can 
 dangle Susie before his eyes all you're a mind to; but 
 all that he'll see'll be Myrtie Swanstrom. Times when 
 he was prayin' most fervent this mornin', I noticed that 
 he kep' peekin' through his eyelashes at Myrtie. Maybe, 
 
 105
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 you saw her sittin' there in her new white dress that 
 she's been breakin' her fingers to get done. There she 
 sat, her that hadn't darkened the church door for 
 months, lookin' like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth." 
 
 " Myrtie's entirely too enterprisin'," commented 
 Mrs. Evans shortly. " She's got a plenty beaux now. 
 Susie's goin' to have this chance." 
 
 Meanwhile, the unconscious object of this discussion, 
 the Rev. Hugh Carrothers, had lingered to assist Miss 
 Benson in gathering up the hymn books and closing 
 and locking the windows and door of the church. These 
 tasks accomplished, he hastened to join the little group 
 by the roadside, and turn with them into the trail 
 through the pines, which, Mrs. Evans explained, was 
 a short cut to her door. 
 
 As he walked, he looked about him with eyes which 
 had not lost their first delight in the majestic panorama 
 of the mountains. Almost in a night, a delicate veil of 
 blossoms had covered the bare, rocky hillsides, and at 
 every step one trod on flowers. With a new and ever 
 increasing enjoyment, the preacher gazed about him, 
 and inhaled the pure, balsamic air, with its rich 
 fragrance of the earth and the pines. Naturally, his 
 enjoyment found expression, and he voiced his admira 
 tion of the village site. " Ah, ladies, your lines have in 
 deed fallen in pleasant places. Strength must surely 
 come from these hills." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Thomas, not vaingloriously, but 
 as if stating a fact, " we certin'y done our best by this 
 place. Nobody can say we ain't tried to give it a air 
 
 106
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 of refinement. We four, Mis' Evans, Mis' Nitschkan, 
 Mis' Landvetter and myself has always hung together 
 since we come here, an' if folks ain't done what was 
 right, we've usually had the strength to make 'em, one 
 way or another, an' took no back talk, either." 
 
 Carrothers looked slightly puzzled. " There are some 
 rare spiritual natures here," he continued. " Now, that 
 little Miss Swanstrom shows a touching desire to help 
 in the Sunday school work." 
 
 He was interrupted by a loud burst of coughing from 
 Mrs. Nitschkan, and an audible, if rather smothered 
 remonstrance from Mrs. Thomas : " For goodness' sake, 
 Mis' Landvetter, will you stop nudgin' me in the ribs, 
 you most knocked me off the cliff." 
 
 " Have you broke ground for your cabin yet, Mr. 
 Carrothers? " asked Mrs. Evans hastily, mindful of the 
 social amenities. 
 
 " I began last week," he answered with pleased inter 
 est. " I wish you ladies would help me some with the 
 plans." 
 
 " Almighty glad to," responded Mrs. Evans, in her 
 most gracious society tones. " Now, preacher," solici 
 tously, " this is something of a climb for a tenderfoot 
 and we'd best rest a bit." 
 
 As they paused for a moment in the blue shadow of 
 the pines, idly scanning the mountain road beneath the 
 ledge of rock on which they stood, each gaze was caught 
 and held by two figures strolling up the sunny expanse 
 of the highway a straight, sturdy young miner, with 
 a dark, handsome face, and a girl whose white dress was 
 
 107
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 carefully lifted from the dust, and whose rose-wreathed 
 hat was hanging half-way down her back from the pink 
 ribbons knotted under her chin. Her attitude expressed 
 unmistakably a coquettish and petulant aloofness and 
 an exaggerated indifference to the evidently impassioned 
 and expostulatory nature of the man's remarks. 
 
 " Ah, that is Miss Swanstrom now ! " exclaimed Car- 
 rothers, in tones of interest, " and who is the young 
 man with her? " 
 
 " Frank McGuire," said Mrs. Evans briefly. " It's 
 Jack to-day, Don to-morrow, and Tom the day after." 
 
 Even as she spoke, Myrtle glanced upward and smiled 
 and nodded. The smile deepened as she saw Carrothers's 
 bodyguard, and acting on a sudden mischievous impulse, 
 she snatched a flower from her belt, and hurled it to 
 ward them. It fell a few feet short of them, half-way 
 up the cliff, and Carrothers, his face alight, scrambled 
 down over the rocks, rescued the blossom and fastened 
 it in his coat, waving his hat, as Myrtle stood flushed 
 and laughing beneath. Perhaps for both, an added spice 
 to the situation was the unconcealed and angry re 
 monstrance of McGuire. 
 
 " Gosh A'mighty," murmured Mrs. Nitschkan at this 
 unseemly and audacious sight. " Ain't she a bold one ! " 
 
 " You bet if she vas mine, she'd get a touch of de 
 stick," chuckled Mrs. Landvetter. But Mrs. Evans 
 maintained a silence more ominous than speech. 
 
 And if the preacher was noticeably absent-minded 
 during the rest of the stroll, it were not improbable to 
 conjecture that his thoughts were more fully occupied 
 
 108
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 with the evanescent bloom on Myrtle's cheek, and the 
 fleeting radiance of her youthful eyes, than by the con 
 versation of the ladies in whose company he walked. 
 
 But Myrtle had, so to speak, fired the first gun with 
 such heedless daring, such flaunting and reckless dis 
 regard of consequences, that Mrs. Evans's companions 
 felt themselves justified in expecting an immediate re 
 turn fire and were rather aggrieved when none was 
 forthcoming. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas, in dilating upon the matter after 
 wards said : " I 'most expected to see a bolt fall from 
 the blue and hit that girl dead, tryin' to carry on with 
 preacher when Mis' Evans was takin' him home to din 
 ner, and on Sunday, too! You bet Mis' Evans '11 pay 
 her back." 
 
 But if Mrs. Evans had any such intentions, she kept 
 them, for the moment, to herself. And the Zenith mind 
 continued to focus itself on Carrothers, and to dwell 
 with keen and undiminished interest upon the romantic 
 possibilities which might eventuate from the presence 
 of a preacher and a widower in the camp. 
 
 Naturally, Mr. Herries did not fail to comment upon 
 the fact when he dropped in for an evening call upon 
 the MissRoner. " I feel sorry for Carrothers," he 
 grumbled. " He's a weak sister ; but every time he climbs 
 out of that cellar he's blasting for his health, there's 
 five or six women setting around on the ground, ready 
 to feed him pie and cake and tell him about their souls. 
 If he expects to find any peace in these hills he'd better 
 move up above timber line. 
 
 109
 
 " Mrs. Evans has wasted no time in getting Susie 
 Hazen over here from Red Fox," with one of his 
 sardonic grins. " Well, of course, it narrows down to a 
 race between Susie and Myrtle, or to put things as they 
 really are, it's a race between Myrtle and Mrs. Evans. 
 
 " Now, far back as I can recollect," he scratched his 
 chin and looked meditatively at the ceiling, " Mrs. 
 Evans has never lost out more than two or three times ; 
 but there's plenty of fighting blood in the Swanstroms, 
 and in my opinion, the odds are even." 
 
 " Mr. Herries, you're gossipping," Frances re 
 proached him. " How can a man like you take an in 
 terest in such small affairs ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " he asked hardily. " If I sat here and 
 read you a book, you'd say nothing; and why should 
 you complain when I read you pages from the greatest 
 book that ever was written the book of human life 
 'tis comedy and tragedy, and," shaking his head, " God 
 knows it's a sorry tale, a black, sorry tale. But," with 
 a return of interest, " have you been keeping your eye 
 on the Widow Thomas? Well, you'd better. There's 
 some mischief brewing there, and 
 
 He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and al 
 most before Frances could rise from her chair, Ethel 
 entered, followed by Carrothers. 
 
 Ethel's face was paler even than usual, her eyes had 
 a strained, excited expression, one long strand of her 
 fair hair had escaped from the prim, confining security 
 of her bonnet and waved across her cheek. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Benson," she cried, scarcely waiting for 
 110
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 Frances to greet them, " you won't never believe it ! but 
 me an' preacher has just been fired from the Garvins'. 
 Ain't it so, Preacher? " 
 
 Carrothers bowed with injured dignity, his rather 
 weak mouth trembling. 
 
 " Yes, sir," went on Ethel volubly in response to 
 Frances's look of startled inquiry and Herries's rapid 
 questions. " Walt just turned us out. Ok, he tried to 
 do it polite, an' with a lot of 'pologies; but he said 
 Lutie was too weak to stand any of our racket ; racket ! 
 That's just the word he said. Wasn't it, Preacher? " 
 
 " Ethel, sit down here," said Frances, almost forcing 
 her into a chair. " Now, tell me what this is all about. 
 What were you doing? " 
 
 " Doing ! " cried the girl passionately, " I was about 
 my Master's business ; that's what. Singin' hymns, 
 pray in' an' exhortin', that's what he called a ' racket.' 
 Tryin' to save Lutie's soul from hell. It's what I'm 
 thinkin' of day and night. It's got to be done. Oh, 
 Missioner," wildly, " she can't be let die in her sins, you 
 know she can't. I don't mind bein' persecuted for right 
 eousness' sake. They can beat me with all the stripes 
 they're a mind to, I'm only a broken an' empty vessel; 
 but I do think Walt might have respected Preacher's 
 cloth." 
 
 " It's overalls now, since he took to digging that 
 cabin," Herries put in slyly. 
 
 " Oh, I think of her night an' day, dyin' in her sins, 
 an' with her affections set on vanities," wailed Ethel. 
 " An' the Devil's gettin' in awful good work now. I took 
 
 111
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Mr. Campbell to see her the other day, and there was 
 an awful scene; an' to-night when me an' Preacher 
 might have made some headway, we were turned out; 
 but we can't give up, we can't give up ! You're the one 
 to fight the Devil now, Missioner, for she's got to be 
 saved." 
 
 " Ethel, be quiet." Frances spoke almost sternly. " I 
 am sure Mr. trarvin did not mean to be rude to you. He 
 just feels that Lutie is so weak that she cannot bear 
 this excitement; and that all her interest in clothes and 
 jewels is just part of her disease." 
 
 " That's what Satan and the doctors say," cried 
 Ethel. 
 
 " We are told," said Carrothers hesitatingly, " that 
 
 there are some vessels born to dishonour, perhaps ' 
 
 He paused under the steady regard of Frances's eye and 
 did not finish the sentence. 
 
 Frances glanced quickly at Herries and experienced 
 the same swift mental recoil she had felt once or twice 
 before. He was leaning slightly forward in his chair, 
 gazing eagerly from Ethel to Carrothers. His expres 
 sion was almost wolfishly eager, and there was a keen, 
 malicious sparkle in his eyes. It was as if he sought 
 habitually in human nature for the weak, foolish, evil 
 traits and was overjoyed when his search was rewarded. 
 
 With a surging, protective sense, Frances threw one 
 arm about Ethel's bowed shoulders. The pale glance she 
 threw at Herries was militant. 
 
 " The battle isn't ours, Ethel," she said gently. 
 " That belongs to a greater power." 
 
 112
 
 " But we're the instruments," wept Ethel. 
 
 " Perhaps not," murmured Frances, as much to her 
 self as to the girl who sobbed on her shoulder. 
 
 " But you're the only one that can do anything 
 now." Ethel clutched her with tense fingers. " It's up 
 to you, Missioner, it's up to you." 
 
 " I have thought of it all," said Frances, her pale 
 face grown paler, " but I haven't seen the way." 
 
 Herries picked up his hat and stamped across the 
 room to the door. " Ethel's turned a page for you to 
 read," he said in the Missionary's ear. " I've given you 
 good advice before, haven't I? Well, take it now. Don't 
 read that page." 
 
 113
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 I T is only in the great hives of men, where people press 
 closely upon each other, where all day we jostle and 
 push our fellows, and all night we hear the sound of 
 their footfalls and laughter, that we ever achieve seclu 
 sion. In a village we afford a spectacle. 
 
 So Mrs. Thomas, who was passing through an in 
 evitable, psychological crisis, fancied perhaps that her 
 various emotions, doubts and perplexities were con 
 cealed in the depths of her soul, never dreaming that 
 she was constantly under observation and being studied 
 as microscopically as ever was beetle glued upon a card. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas, to put the fact succinctly, was floun 
 dering helplessly in the untried seas of a lately arrived 
 freedom, struggling in some vague, instinctive effort to 
 find herself ; for to every life, even in the most unthink 
 ing and unawakened, there comes a moment when the 
 individual makes an effort, perhaps abortive, to express 
 himself, and the soul strives to burst into flower. 
 
 And it was this blind effort which, as her friends re 
 marked, " had changed Marthy Thomas and made her 
 act queer." 
 
 Married in early youth, she had long become accus 
 tomed to the dominance of a stronger nature. The first 
 few days after her husband's death she had passed in 
 a daze, her mind benumbed ; but the sordidly spectacular 
 
 114
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 event of the funeral had roused her to a sense of the 
 possibilities of the situation. 
 
 She felt the quick response of her sensuous tempera 
 ment to the rows of Red Men marching unevenly along 
 the dusty road to the discordant strains of the funeral 
 march from Saul, and then slowly filing into the un- 
 painted little church. She thrilled to the importance of 
 her position, as she, too, entered, shrouded in sombre 
 weeds and supported on either side by a sun-burned 
 brother, in unaccustomed black, who had journeyed 
 from a neighbouring camp for the occasion. 
 
 Afterward followed days when the consolatory offices 
 of friends waxed and then waned, and she had declined 
 from a tragedy to a commonplace, and the prosaic world 
 asserted its claim. She was at once worried and dazzled, 
 too, by the, to her, enormous responsibility of the in 
 surance money. 
 
 This sum served as the conveniently shifting founda 
 tion of many a towering castle in Spain, for, as she 
 gradually realised that the weight of Thomas's person 
 ality had really been lifted, her essentially romantic 
 and emotional nature knew a period of bloom and 
 efflorescence, all the more exotic because so long 
 repressed. 
 
 And Nature, too, had thrown off the stern thrall of 
 winter. Almost in a single night, the bare, bleak moun 
 tains rippled with the pink and blue of countless 
 penstemon, and the silvery green of the sage bushes. 
 The magpies and the blue jays fluttered through the 
 pine trees, and the chipmunks whisked over the rocks, 
 
 115
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 and Mrs. Thomas's heart rose up and answered the sum 
 mons of the spring. 
 
 Thomas had been a dour creature, with a highly cul 
 tivated gift of sarcasm, and an uncanny way of divin 
 ing her hidden impulses and dragging them to the merci 
 less light of ridicule, thus skilfully circumventing any 
 possible expression of them ; so day by day, as she be 
 came more accustomed to the absence of this cog upon 
 her actions, her imagination fluttered its newly unbound 
 wings and ventured in wider and wider circles. 
 
 The conversation with her companions and their ami 
 able and authoritative dictation as to the best method 
 of spending the insurance money, at first caused Mrs. 
 Thomas much perturbation, but she finally followed the 
 bent of her mind, and discarded Mrs. Nitschkan's rak 
 ish suggestions for the more alluring one of refurnish 
 ing the house. 
 
 Secure then, in the approbation of her friends, who 
 were capable of displaying well exercised critical judg 
 ment and marked executive ability when dealing with 
 the affairs of others, she joyously absorbed herself in 
 cleaning and adorning her home; but when the pillow 
 shams on the thick parlour bed were properly bordered 
 and inserted with lace, the parlour set was glaring with 
 red plush, and the kitchen fresh with whitewash and 
 sticky with varnish, when any lingering sense of obliga 
 tion to Thomas was fully liquidated by the planting of 
 a headstone at one end of the grave, and a rose bush at 
 the other, then, with a half-guilty sense of finality, she 
 resolutely closed the portals of the past, and fingered 
 
 116
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 with fascinated interest and curiosity the key which 
 was to open the door of the future. 
 
 At first, her long-hobbled mind merely wandered 
 within the circumscribed radius of the present; but 
 when, at last, it dawned upon her that she was free to 
 follow the dictates of her whim, then a sense of ennui 
 and discouragement at the narrow limits of her environ 
 ment overcame her. There was no more setting of the 
 house in order to be done. Her children were beyond the 
 care of babyhood, and had not yet arrived at the age 
 when maternal ambition would brood over them. 
 
 While in this frame of mind she read in the Mount 
 Tabor Review, a. weekly paper which disseminated the 
 news of the entire county, the fact that Professor Alexis 
 Hartshorn, the distinguished astrologer, palmist, crys 
 tal gazer and psychic reader, was located at Mount 
 Tabor for a few weeks, and could be consulted at his 
 rooms at Lament Street from 9 A. M. until 9 P. M. each 
 day. His picture accompanied the advertisement a 
 dark, poetic face, with a touch of mephistophelian 
 cynicism, eternally alluring to the feminine imagination. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas gazed long and admiringly at the 
 smudgy halftone, read and reread the advertisement, 
 and then cutting it out with the scissors, placed it 
 thoughtfully between the leaves of the family Bible 
 with as much of an expression of decision on her face 
 as it was capable of assuming. 
 
 The next morning she hired from the village black 
 smith shop, which also did duty as the village livery 
 stable, the sole vehicle it had to rent, a rattling buck- 
 
 117
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 board with but one uncertain seat. This wagon was 
 drawn by an old and jaded white horse, whose reluctant 
 head she turned in the direction of Mount Tabor, and 
 slapping the lines on his back, drove slowly off with a 
 lambent excitement and fear in her wide, appealing eyes. 
 
 From that day, Mrs. Thomas was another woman, 
 abstracted, absorbed, remote. Her friends commented 
 on her withdrawal from the common interest ; but failed 
 to convince themselves with an adequate explanation of 
 the alteration. 
 
 " It may be grief, or it may be comin' into property ; 
 but Thomas's takin' off has certainly changed her," 
 remarked Mrs. Evans, as the group of intimates sat 
 sewing one June afternoon in Mrs. Nitschkan's cabin. 
 
 " I guess she's grieved more as we give her credit 
 for," remarked Mrs. Landvetter ruminatively. " Veil, 
 you can't neffer tell." 
 
 " Gosh a'mighty ! " exclaimed Mrs. Nitschkan, with 
 robust contempt. " Grievin' ! Well, if I'd a bin in her 
 shoes, I'd be out kickin' up my heels in pastur' this 
 minute. Thomas! My Lord! You know, girls, what a 
 raspin' tongue he had, an' how his pockets was just 
 lined with glue when it come to pullin' any money out 
 of 'em." 
 
 " Veil, he vasn't t'rowin' his money avay like Walt 
 Garvin, anyvay," contended Mrs. Landvetter. 
 
 "Ain't it awful ! " Mrs. Evans sighed. " Why, Mr. 
 Carrothers was sayin' only last night that he'd took a 
 pencil an' paper an' calculated on how many mission 
 aries could be sent to the heathen on what Walt paid 
 
 118
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 for a new necklace for Lutie this last week. I forget 
 how many he said, an awful lot. You see in those hot 
 countries where missionaries mostly go, it don't cost 
 much to live. They can't wear many clothes, an' they 
 just stir up a mess of rice, or pick a cocoanut or a 
 banana off a tree. It's awful, Preacher says, to think 
 of all those souls lost for the sake of Lutie's vanity." 
 
 " Tink of all dat money she could save," gloated Mrs. 
 Landvetter, an avid gleam in her eye. " It's awful." 
 
 " Speakin' of lightmindedness ! " remarked Mrs. 
 Nitschkan, " I was callin' on Mis' O'Brien yesterday, 
 an' I says to her : ' Why, wasn't you at the last meetin' 
 of the Ladies' Aid Society? ' An' she answers cool as a 
 cucumber, ' I got somepin' better to do than set around 
 with a lot of hens.' ' You don't know your camp, 5 I 
 says. ' Us hens, as you call us, is better fellows than 
 them that's settin' round on your porch every night.' 
 Well, she threw me one of her devilish looks, an' she 
 says as prim as you please, { Them's Shock's friends.' 
 I burst right out laughin'. Why, she's even got the 
 lunger preacher there, and " 
 
 But Mrs. Nitschkan's revelations regarding the Black 
 Pearl were suddenly interrupted by a shrill exclamation 
 from Mrs. Evans, who had half -risen from her seat by 
 the window, and holding aside the straight, white muslin 
 curtain, was peering at what, judging from the expres 
 sion of her face, must have been a strange and unwonted 
 spectacle. " Girls," in a queer, strained voice, " is my 
 eyes gone bad or my head? For Heaven's sake! Look 
 at this!" 
 
 119
 
 Along the mountain road, its head pointed to the dis 
 tant peaks, ambled the dejected white horse; behind it 
 rattled the wagon with its swaying wheels, and high 
 upon the uncertain seat were perched Mrs. Thomas and 
 a man the unidealised and coarsened reality of Profes 
 sor Alexis Hartshorn. Mrs. Thomas's beloved crepe veil 
 floated behind her, and above her best black gown her 
 pink and white face smiled with a tremulous and April- 
 like joy. She appeared oblivious to the fact that behind 
 the wagon trotted a tow-headed child of about six years, 
 tears raining down its dirty little cheeks, while from its 
 mouth burst a series of ear-piercing wails : " Ma ma 
 I wa' a-go too-o-o." Further back in the road a 
 ragged urchin, a year or two older, indifferent to his 
 parent's pleasuring, scooped up handfuls of the deep 
 yellow dust and threw it high in the air, to descend 
 again upon his head in a sifting cloud. 
 
 As the pair on the wagon vanished in the same golden 
 haze, the women who had crowded to the window with 
 panting ejaculations of surprise and consternation 
 turned away and sank weakly into their seats. 
 
 " Veil, my goodness gracious ! " sighed Mrs. Land- 
 vetter, mechanically seizing the coffeepot, " who vas 
 dat ? One of dem brudders of hers ? Hein ? " 
 
 " Hm-m-m," sniffed Mrs. Evans significantly. " She 
 was wearing her best veil and her Sunday dress in this 
 dust, too. Does that look like brother? Not much. 
 Pass me the teapot, Nitschkan, I could keel right over." 
 
 " Veil, who you s'pose it vas ? " 
 
 "How should I know?" replied Mrs. Evans tartly. 
 120
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 " I only know from the way she's got up an' the way 
 she looks, that she ain't entertainin' no relations. An' 
 this soon, too ! I don't think it looks real nice." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " chorused Mrs. Nitschkan. " Marthy's 
 got a beau. Well, she surely ain't lost no time." 
 
 " Und dose kids, too," sighed Mrs. Landvetter. 
 " Vasn't dey dirty now ? " 
 
 " They ain't no more neglected than the rose bush 
 she planted at Thomas's grave," remarked Mrs. Evans. 
 " Paid two fifty for it, stuck it in the earth, an' then 
 never went back to give it a drop of water." 
 
 " I do' know if she ever did get the stones put in his 
 grave. For all she knows the kiotes have scratched him 
 up an' et him," said Mrs. Nitschkan, with gloomy relish. 
 
 " Like as not," answered Mrs. Evans abstractedly ; 
 but her brow had cleared. " I tell you what, girls, I 
 think someone had ought to talk to Marthy Thomas." 
 
 " Someone seems to be tryin' to this afternoon," 
 chuckled Mrs. Nitschkan. " An' to-night Dan Mayhew 
 an' Willie Barker '11 be showin' up." 
 
 " Willie Barker's engaged," said Mrs. Evans con 
 temptuously. " An' Dan Mayhew tends to her business. 
 He wouldn't look at Marthy Thomas anyway, when he 
 could have his pick of all the girls in the county. Still, 
 it don't look right for her to be cavortin' 'round this 
 soon, an' I think Missioner is the one to speak to her. 
 Maybe this is one of them soul problems she preached 
 about last Sunday." 
 
 " Say, wasn't she great ! " exclaimed Mrs. Nitschkan 
 enthusiastically, slapping her knee. " Her eyes were 
 
 ra
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 rolled up, and her face kind of shone. I says to her 
 comin' out, I says, Missioner, you minded me this 
 mornin' of the serpent that was lifted up in the wilder 
 ness. I bet he didn't look no nicer than you.' " 
 
 " Well, that ain't the question now," Mrs. Evans 
 spoke impatiently. " I guess I'll put on my hat an' go 
 up an' see Missioner this evening kind o' point out 
 her duty about talkin' to Marthy." 
 
 It was agreed by the other two ladies that she could 
 have thought of no better plan. 
 
 Now Frances, either because she lived near to the 
 highway, or because she was one of those personalities 
 bound to be sought, had grown accustomed to receiving 
 many visitors. Therefore, it was no especial surprise 
 to her when Mrs. Evans dropped in for an evening call. 
 She saw the small, active figure hurrying up the hill 
 side in the late twilight. 
 
 " I jus' thought I'd come up and set with you a 
 spell, Missioner. Sile, he's gone to see Walt Garvin. 
 You know Walt's made him foreman over at the Mont 
 d'Or. Ain't it grand! My! I wisht I could think of 
 somethin' to do for that poor thing perishin' in her laces 
 an' jewels. She's right fond of my cookin', an' I been 
 able to help a little that way though." 
 
 " Oh, poor Lutie ! " cried Frances, with a break in 
 her voice. Her face looked pale, there were black lines 
 under her eyes. " You can't be with her, Mrs. Evans, 
 as much as I've been and not learn to love her. She's so 
 helpless and dependent, and she never complains. She 
 tries so hard to get away from her suffering. That's 
 
 122
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 the hardest thing to bear; but she's just trying to dis 
 tract her mind with the foolish things." 
 
 " 'Course," agreed Mrs. Evans. " Well, you surely 
 been awful good to her, Missioner; but who ain't you 
 good to ? " real gratitude in her voice. " I tell you, I'll 
 never forget what you done for Sile an' me, if I live to 
 be a thousand years. Sile feels awful kind to me for 
 sacrificin' myself to give up the hack. An' I let him feel 
 that way, you bet; though between you an' me, I was 
 gettin' pretty tired of spendin' half my time drivin' up 
 an' down in all kinds of weather. I s'pose you ain't heard 
 that I took up something new? " with importance. 
 
 " Something new ? " repeated the Missionary. 
 
 Mrs. Evans nodded. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I took the agency for Vitina. Vitina's the 
 best all round medicine for man and beast that ever was 
 put up. You know what a way we got to live here. The 
 nearest doctor ten miles over the pass, an' us either dead 
 or got well before he gets here. I was surprised at Sile, 
 when I told him I'd took the agency. He says : * Well, 
 I don't like it, Effie, but since you got to be in business, 
 I guess this is quieter than drivin' the hack. That was 
 such a darned show-off game; kind of advertised to 
 everybody that I couldn't keep you.' ' 
 
 " ' Oh, this ain't no money-makin' concern,' I says, 
 ' it's jus' sort of saunterin' in some of the back doors 
 of a few particular friends an' handin' out somethin' 
 that's goin' to ease their lives.' You see," concluded 
 Mrs. Evans, with the sigh of the capable in dealing with 
 the incapable world, " husbands have got to be man- 
 
 123
 
 aged. They ain't got no real sense. I'm makin' quite a 
 little on the side. I calculate to get enough to get 
 Celora's teeth fixed and buy me that piece of black silk 
 over in Hayman's window. Who's that? " she asked 
 suddenly, as two figures passed through the deepening 
 twilight and on down the hill. " I do believe it's the 
 lunger preacher and Myrtle Swanstrom. Missioner, I 
 think Myrtle had ought to be remonstrated with. 
 Everybody in camp's talkin' about the way she's treat- 
 in' Frank McGuire. Yes, she had ought to be re 
 monstrated with, and you're the one to do it." 
 
 "I'll wait until I know more about the subject," said 
 Frances coolly. She was not one to submit lightly to 
 dictation. 
 
 " An' Marthy Thomas ! " continued Mrs. Evans. 
 " She's been actin' queer lately ; us girls suspicioned it 
 was a case of man, but we couldn't find out who, an' this 
 afternoon we all saw her drivin' around with some 
 stranger, yes," nodding her head, " an' we sort of 
 thought if you'd go to see her an' find out who it was, 
 it might help some." 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Evans, I shall not do anything of the 
 kind," returned Frances firmly. " What right have I to 
 interfere in Mrs. Thomas's affairs ? " 
 
 Mrs. Evans rose with a short laugh. " You'll be asked 
 to 'fore long. You see! Marthy'll get herself into some 
 kind of a scrape, an' then sit an' cry till the rest of us 
 turns in and pulls her out of it. It's happened before 
 now, an' it'll happen again. Just wait."
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 I_jVEN so authoritative and cocksure a lady as Mrs. 
 Evans had no idea how prophetic were her parting 
 words to Frances, nor how soon the prophecy they con 
 tained was to be fulfilled ; but as she climbed the hill to 
 the Missionary's cabin two or three mornings later, 
 there was an air of I-told-you-so importance about her, 
 which, perhaps, was only natural under the circum 
 stances. 
 
 Frances sat in her doorway in the dancing light and 
 shade of the quivering aspens which grew thickly about 
 the cabin. Several chipmunks, a magpie, and a blue- 
 jay or so, fed amicably from a bowl of cooked oatmeal 
 without the door ; but Frances Benson's gaze was not on 
 them, nor on the open Bible on her knee. It was fixed 
 on the ethereal blue deeps above the tree tops. Her lips 
 moved slightly, and in her eyes were the exalted dreams, 
 the unseeing rapture of the mystic who has bridged time 
 and space, joy and sorrow, with prayer. 
 
 As Mrs. Evans approached, the Missionary's gaze 
 dropped from the skies and looked through and beyond 
 that feminine epitome of practicality. 
 
 " It's all love and beauty, Mrs. Evans, the whole uni 
 verse." Her finger traced the lines in the Bible and her 
 voice thrilled. " ' If we love not our brother whom we 
 have seen, how shall we love God, whom we have not 
 seen ? ' " 
 
 125
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Mrs. Evans looked at her with protecting pride and 
 admiration. " That's all right, Miss Benson ; but we got 
 to get away from God to man this morning. Marthy 
 Thomas has got a soul problem, and 'course she don't 
 know what to do with it no more 'n a kitten. She sent 
 Vi'let an' Clemency over with a note a while back, and I 
 just loped on to find you." 
 
 She held out a crumpled bit of paper whereon was 
 scrawled in painful characters : 
 
 Mis Evans, won't you get Missioner and come here. I'm in a 
 muss and suffortin for it 
 
 M. THOMAS. 
 
 Frances smoothed it out and read it. " Poor Mrs. 
 Thomas," she exclaimed, her eyes becoming practical 
 the moment there was work for her hands to do. She 
 picked up her hat, and leaving the door open for the 
 jays and the chipmunks to enter at will, she and Mrs. 
 Evans set out for the newly painted Thomas residence. 
 There, in the cool, white kitchen, Mrs. Landvetter and 
 Mrs. Nitschkan were busying themselves preparing tea 
 and coffee, while Mrs. Thomas sat beside a table, limp 
 and dejected. There was a droop to her mouth like a 
 child's, and her eyes slowly filled and brimmed over with 
 tears which she occasionally wiped away with a wet 
 handkerchief rolled into a tight ball. 
 
 " Well, here we are," said Mrs. Evans with loud 
 cheerfulness, as she and Miss Benson entered. " Now, 
 one of you girls pour us out a cup apiece, an' Mis' 
 
 126
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 Thomas, you jus' begin at the beginning and tell Mis- 
 sioner all about it. She'll get you out of any scrape 
 you're in, won't you, Missioner? " 
 
 " I'll try," said Frances, with sincere kindliness. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas gulped convulsively once or twice and 
 rolled and unrolled her handkerchief. " It's about the 
 Perfessor," she wailed. " At first, he was awful nice. 
 He come to see me often an' he certainly talked lovely. 
 He quoted poetry and everything, like Thomas never did 
 even before we was married; an' then he got to askin* 
 me how I was fixed an' I told him. He said he had to 
 know before he could foretell the futur' for me, an' then 
 he was nicer than ever. He come right out an' said he 
 loved me so that he couldn't sleep at nights for think- 
 in' of me." 
 
 Upon the faces of her listening friends dawned that 
 faintly sarcastic expression which women assume on 
 learning that a man is actually blinded by the fascina 
 tions of one of their sex. Having no illusions concern 
 ing each other, they cannot but regard with contempt 
 this pitiable evidence of masculine dementia. 
 
 The practical, shrewd kindliness had gradually faded 
 from Frances's eyes, leaving them puzzled and a little 
 impatient. There occurred to her no remedy in the whole 
 pharmacopoeia of a soul doctor which can minister to a 
 woman's infatuation. 
 
 And as she listened to Mrs. Thomas's tale, the spirit 
 of warm helpfulness with which she had sought one in 
 trouble, congealed to something perfunctory and pro 
 fessional, while her impatience was becoming vital. As 
 
 127
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 for Mrs. Thomas, she was about to acquire the bitter 
 knowledge that while in sickness or in sorrow, women 
 turn instinctively to one another, feeling intuitively that 
 they will thus find the truest comfort, the completest 
 understanding of their needs; in love, they must fly to 
 the wilderness, for they stand alone, aloof, alien to 
 feminine sympathy. 
 
 " He said," continued Mrs. Thomas, with tearful 
 pride, " that he couldn't even eat 'less he was with me ; 
 but I'll tell you what, he certainly did make up for it 
 then. They hasn't been an evening that he's et with me 
 that I haven't been cookin' all day an* not enough left 
 to feed the chickens." 
 
 " Hm-m-m, I bet you got to keep cookin' between him 
 an' Willie Barker an' Dan Mayhew. It seems to me they 
 keep the path to your gate warm," cried Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan rollickingly. 
 
 A faint, pink flush crept up Mrs. Thomas's face. 
 " Willie Barker says he's got too much respect for me 
 to try an' be steady company until my term of mourn 
 ing is up; but he says he don't think it's right to the 
 living to mourn for the dead ; an' as for Dan Mayhew, 
 he comes to talk business." 
 
 " How much does he know of this here Hartshorn? " 
 asked Mrs. Evans pointedly. 
 
 " He don't know nothin'," returned Mrs. Thomas 
 reluctantly. 
 
 The women cast meaning glances at one another over 
 their cups. 
 
 '* Veil, vy don' you go to him an' get him to shoo dis 
 128
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 feller off, if you vants to get rid of him ? " asked Mrs. 
 Landvetter, with Teuton common sense. 
 
 " I do' know if I do want to get rid of him," mur 
 mured Mrs. Thomas forlornly. " He can be awful nice ; 
 an' our courtship was just like a book until I hesitated 
 about the money. Then he come every day and said it 
 made him feel real impatient to see me actin' like I 
 didn't trust him. It's the insurance money, you know. 
 He says he wouldn't lay a finger on a penny of it ; but 
 he's got to save me from a awful fate he sees hangin' 
 over me. He says he sees it in the stars an' in the 
 crystal, an' that it's wrote on the cards too plain not to 
 believe. It's something sudden, like bein' struck by 
 lightning, if I don't get that money out of my hands 
 before the third of June. He says the only way he sees 
 to save me, is to give him the money an' not ask any 
 questions about it for six months. 
 
 " He's awful cross with me because I do' know what 
 to do, an' he comes over every day 'most, an' sets there 
 in that chair you're in, Mis' Evans, an' glares at me 
 with them gimlet eyes, until I'm so scared I 'most die. 
 An' " at this point Mrs. Thomas's sobs were un 
 restrained " he says that this must be kept so awful 
 secret, for if ever he hears of me tellin' a livin' soul, 
 he'll work some kind of a conjurin' game on me, an' 
 also publish the letters I wrote him in the Mount Tabor 
 Review." 
 
 " Well, what the devil do you care ? " asked Mrs. 
 Nitschkan. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas flamed like a peony and caught her 
 129
 
 breath once or twice before she answered. " They're so 
 awful soft," she said, at last. 
 
 Frances gave a quick exclamation of impatience. 
 " Oh, Mrs. Thomas ! How could you do anything so 
 foolish? How did you happen to meet this man in the 
 first place ? " 
 
 " There wasn't nothing doin' here," Mrs. Thomas 
 said simply. " Willie Barker an' Dan Mayhew wasn't 
 droppin' in then. Oh," she wailed, with something like 
 despair in her voice, " I thought I was goin' to like bein' 
 a widow; but it's terrible lonesome. When I first got 
 free, I thought I was goin' to have the time of my life ; 
 but it ain't so much fun as I thought it was goin' to be 
 not to have Thomas jawin' me all day long." 
 
 "Veil, you can't neffer tell," remarked Mrs. Land- 
 vetter, in surprised consternation, her lace needles poised 
 in air. 
 
 It was noticeable during the interview with this 
 woman she had come to succour, that Frances's eyes had 
 grown constantly harder, and now, something like con 
 tempt shadowed them. Her will, her executive ability, 
 her skill, born of intuition and long practice in disen 
 tangling " soul problems," were powerless when opposed 
 to the soft, immovable, wavering force which she now 
 encountered. To the woman floundering in the bog of 
 mistakes, mud-stained, worn with the struggle, she 
 stretched forth her loving hands; but for one so ele 
 mental, so naively expressing her natural impulses as 
 Mrs. Thomas, she had neither sympathy nor comprehen 
 sion. 
 
 130
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 The narrowness of which Mr. Herries had once ac 
 cused her, the inherent narrowness of the feminine 
 nature, its unswerving devotion to the traditional dog 
 mas of womanliness, now expressed itself in every line 
 of her face and figure. 
 
 " I don't think a woman has any call to talk as you 
 are doing," she said with grave reproof. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas exhibited the obstinacy of the meek. 
 " I'd like to know why not ? " she cried defiantly. " I'd 
 like to know what right you got to judge me, Miss 
 Benson. You don't know the lonesomeness of bein* a 
 widow." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you are contemplating a 
 second marriage, not two months after your husband's 
 death? " asked Frances, aghast. 
 
 But Mrs. Thomas had endured to the limit. " I don't 
 care," in childish wrath. " You'd be a contemplatin' a 
 second, or a third, or any old kind if you knew the lone 
 someness of bein' a widow. An' I bet if you was to 
 tell the truth," shrilly and amid streaming tears, 
 " you'd want somebody to love you just the same as 
 I do." 
 
 The scarlet crept up Frances's neck ; but compressing 
 her lips, she merely looked icily and remotely over the 
 head of this possessor of a " soul problem," beyond her 
 ken. 
 
 " Mrs. Thomas," she said curtly, " your behaviour 
 and your sentiments make me ashamed of my sex." 
 
 " I don't care," reiterated Mrs. Thomas. " I don't 
 care. It's your sex an' my sex that's talkin'. There ain't 
 
 131
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 no woman livin' that don't want a man to love her." She 
 put her head on the table and sobbed afresh. 
 
 The women exchanged scornful and shocked glances 
 over her head. " I guess we'd best leave you to yourself, 
 Marthy Thomas," said Mrs. Evans, rising. " If you're 
 in such a frame of mind that you've got to sass the Mis- 
 sioner, you'll be throwin' things at the rest of us. An' 
 Thomas hardly cold in his grave yet ! My ! " as she 
 closed the door behind the little party of visitors. 
 " Ain't she the limit ? Lord save me from them that 
 don't know their own minds." 
 
 " But she's certain'y in the devil of a scrape," argued 
 Mrs. Nitschkan good-naturedly. " Say the word, girls," 
 rolling up her sleeves and feeling tentatively her swell 
 ing muscles, " an' I'll go over to Mount Tabor an' do 
 up the Perfessor." 
 
 " That would never do, Nitschkan," Mrs. Evans 
 hastily replied. " What we got to do is to work on this 
 end of the line." 
 
 Frances, who had walked silently down the little path 
 leading to the paling gate, now spoke. " I agree with 
 Mrs. Evans," she spoke slowly. " I do not think it is 
 worth while trying to do anything more with Mrs. 
 Thomas. She is completely under that man's influence. 
 As for him," she added grimly, " a good, strong man 
 should deal with him." 
 
 " That is so," responded Mrs. Evans emphatically, 
 " but I don't know one that's got any call to mix in, 
 unless it's Dan Mayhew. He's her trustee, an' he might 
 do something with her."
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 " Dan's an awful sensible man," said Mrs. Land- 
 vetter gloomily. " You go an' tell him de way she carry 
 on, and he won't be trustee no more. Den how she goin' 
 to get along? " 
 
 " Goodness only knows," answered Mrs. Evans des 
 perately. " Still, we can't stop to think about that. 
 What we got to do is to try as hard as we can to get 
 her out of this muss. Ain't that so, Miss Benson? " 
 
 " I think so," replied Frances in a depressed tone. 
 
 " She showed me a letter from him last night, women 
 dear," chuckled the irrepressible Nitschkan, " in which 
 he said that she wasn't to hesitate no longer, as the 
 danger was at hand, an' he called her his blue-eyed 
 beauty. A big ox like her with a front tooth gone ! " 
 
 " My Lord ! " sighed Mrs. Evans. " Who'd have any 
 patience? Well, girls, I heard Sile say that Dan was 
 workin' on his prospect, so it's no use stoppin' at his 
 law office. Up we'll have to go." 
 
 It was something of a climb, up through a trail 
 bordered with the pink and blue penstemon all abloom 
 in the sparkling, balsamic June air; but these were 
 hardy mountain women, and it was not long before they 
 reached the prospect where Dan Mayhew was hard at 
 work with pick and shovel in a hole about twenty feet 
 deep. 
 
 " Hello, Dan," called the breezy voice of Mrs. Nitsch 
 kan, as the women peered over the rim of his embryo 
 mine. 
 
 " Hello, girls," he answered heartily, throwing down 
 his tools and pushing his hat further back on his head, 
 
 133
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 the better to see his visitors. " Come to call on me? 
 What's in the wind now? Want a divorce apiece? Wait 
 till I climb up since I ain't got electric elevators running 
 yet. I can entertain you better up there. What do you 
 think o' them for samples ? " He threw some bits of 
 quartz into Mrs. Landvetter's lap. " Looks like ' The 
 Marthy ' was goin' to have a f utur', don't it ? " 
 
 He was a big broad-shouldered fellow, as he stood 
 among his callers, who sat about the yawning hole on 
 convenient boulders. One of the strong men of this earth 
 a fitting type to stand erect in the stern and savage 
 mountains, and to wrest from them the secret of their 
 hidden treasures. 
 
 " Fine," said Mrs. Landvetter, leisurely examining 
 the specimens. " Great ! Dere's a streak of peacock." 
 
 " Le's see." Mrs. Evans scanned the bits of rock 
 professionally. " Good, Dan, if the streak don't pinch. 
 I'm kind o' 'f raid you struck a pocket, though." 
 
 " Oh, we all know Mrs. Evans knows more about 
 mining than Sile," commented Mayhew good-naturedly. 
 " Now he thinks ' The Marthy ' 's goin' to be a great 
 mine. Sorry I have no seats but boulders to offer you 
 ladies. When ' The Marthy ' pans out you shall all have 
 plush rockers." 
 
 The constant iteration of the name " Marthy " 
 seemed to react upon feminine nerves. Mrs. Evans, Mrs. 
 Landvetter and the Missionary glanced uneasily at one 
 another. It remained for Mrs. Nitschkan, with her lack 
 of nerves, to solve the problem, for, at Mayhew's words, 
 she threw her head back with a great burst of laughter, 
 
 134
 
 "Hello, girls," he amicered heartily
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 showing every squirrel-white tooth in her head. " The 
 Marthy! The Marthy!" she cried. "Why, Dan, it's 
 the Marthy we've come to see you about." 
 
 Mayhew's expression changed. " What's the matter 
 with Mrs. Thomas?" he asked quickly, looking from 
 one to the other. 
 
 " Oh, dere ain't nottin' de matter wid her, dat is " 
 
 said Mrs. Landvetter, and then paused in embarrassed 
 silence, attempting to extricate her lace work from her 
 pocket. 
 
 " Well, what it is then ? " asked Mayhew impatiently. 
 " You girls got something on your minds, or you 
 wouldn't be up here." 
 
 " That is true, Mr. Mayhew. We have something on 
 our minds, and we thought it best to come directly to 
 you," said the Missionary, decisively. " We are all very 
 much worried about Mrs. Thomas." 
 
 "What's the matter with her?" anxiously. "Is she 
 sick? " 
 
 " No, she is quite well ; but " Miss Benson tried 
 
 to speak kindly. " She has gotten into quite a serious 
 entanglement with this fortune teller over in Mount 
 Tabor, Professor Hartshorn." 
 
 " What do you mean by your * serious entangle 
 ment ' ? " growled Mayhew. " Speak plain, Missioner." 
 
 " I mean," replied the Missionary, with a tightening 
 of the lips and a heightened colour, " that she is com 
 pletely under the influence of this man, and that he is 
 using that influence to extort money from her. She 
 has promised to give him, day after to-morrow, all that 
 
 135
 
 remains of the two thousand dollars her husband left 
 her." 
 
 Mayhew's eyes glared from under his brows, but he 
 looked from one woman to another in a dazed fashion. 
 
 "It's straight, Dan," corroborated Mrs. Evans. 
 " He's just hypnotised her, an* now she's in this 
 box." 
 
 " Well, why wasn't I told before ? " asked Mayhew. 
 " What did you let her get into it for? How did she 
 ever meet him ? " 
 
 " She went to get her fortune told," began Mrs. 
 Evans. 
 
 " She's so lonesome, bein' a widow, an 5 she wanted 
 somebody to love her," mimicked Mrs. Nitschkan in 
 a small voice, imitating closely Mrs. Thomas' lisp and 
 coy manner. 
 
 The three mountain women rocked back and forth 
 on their boulders with bursts of laughter. 
 
 " Aw, for the Lord's sake ! " exclaimed Mayhew dis 
 gustedly. " I wisht women had some sense. Missioner, 
 can you tell me what this is all about ? " 
 
 " It's just as these ladies say," remarked Frances 
 coldly. She had small sympathy for the culprit and 
 was actuated in her present course solely by a sense of 
 duty. " Mrs. Thomas explained to us that she was 
 lonesome after her husband's death, and with a desire 
 for excitement went to see this Professor Hartshorn. 
 He at once made love to her, and now informs her that 
 he sees in his crystals, and his stars, and cards, some 
 terrible calamity impending unless she gives him her 
 
 130
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 money. He has so succeeded in frightening her that I 
 do not think she will dare to refuse his demand." 
 
 " He'll get his head broke before night," threat 
 ened Mayhew. " My Lord ! " mopping his brow with a 
 blue and white cotton handkerchief and looking des 
 perately at the row of women before him. " What was 
 you women a-thinkin' of, sittin' around doin' nothin' 
 and lettin' her get into such a scrape? " 
 
 " My patience ! " cried Mrs. Evans, while her sisters 
 gasped and gazed at one another. She sprang to her 
 feet and drew up her tiny figure to the fullest. " You 
 must think we ain't got nothin' to do, Dan Mayhew, 
 but look after that overgrown baby. Maybe you think 
 we ain't got husbands and childern an' houses to mind. 
 Oh, yes ; we ought to let them go to look after Marthy 
 Thomas, that ain't got sense enough to tend to her 
 own business." 
 
 " Is that true ? " said Mayhew, surveying her an 
 grily and speaking with icy sarcasm. " Well, I guess 
 there's a good many men in the camp, includin' poor 
 Sile Evans, that wishes there was more like her. You 
 all think you're too smart to mind your own business 
 and got to stick your fingers in everybody else's pie. I 
 guess if the truth was known you drove her to this. It 
 speaks a lot for her friends, don't it, that she got so 
 lonesome that she had to run to some fakir for con 
 solation ? " 
 
 " Vy vasn't you around to do some of the consolin', 
 Dan?" asked Mrs. Landvetter hardily. 
 
 " She was wantin' to be loved," roared Mrs. Nitsch-
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 kan. A suppressed giggle ran through the feminine 
 part of the group with the exception of the Missionary. 
 
 " Well, it's a pity some of the rest of you didn't," 
 he exclaimed doggedly. " Oh, you're Miss Know-it-alls. 
 If she'd 'a* been treated right by you women," he con 
 tinued accusingly, " she wouldn't 'a* gone traipsin* 
 around to fakirs. You didn't show her no human sym 
 pathy. You're a cold-blooded lot. Oh, I know the whole 
 of you, 'ceptin' Missioner. I could read your pedigrees 
 from the beginning. It couldn't be expected that you'd 
 understand her. She ain't made of the same kind of 
 clay that you are. She's trustin', that's what she is, 
 trustin' and confidin'; but what's the use of trustin 5 in 
 flint an' confidin' in ice? " 
 
 "My Gawd, Dan May hew! Air you a-jumpin' on us 
 'cause Marthy Thomas is a d. f . ? " asked Mrs. Evans 
 shrilly. 
 
 He wheeled on her savagely. " You ought to be 
 scrunched 'twixt a man's thumb an' finger like you was 
 a flea, which you are," contemptuously. " I've asked 
 you and you ain't give me any good answer what did 
 you ever let her get in such a muss for? Oh, yes," 
 interrupting the clamour of voices; "you could 'a' 
 helped if you'd wanted to. I know how much she thinks 
 of all of you; but you couldn't lift a finger to help 
 her, could you? That would be puttin' yourselves out 
 some, wouldn't it? You couldn't do nothing but sit 
 around and knock her behind her back." 
 
 " You are not just to us, Mr. Mayhew." Frances 
 attempted to speak with dignity, but her lip trembled. 
 
 138
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 He made a scornful gesture, as if renouncing them 
 all; but it was plain from his absorbed gaze bent on 
 the ground, his knotted brow, that he was oblivious to 
 their presence. 
 
 Mrs. Evans fidgetted uneasily. " Dan," she said at 
 last, " get over your mad and tell us what had best be 
 done." 
 
 " I know what I'm a-going to do," he cried, with 
 resolution, picking up his hat and coat from the 
 ground. " I'm goin' to Mount Tabor to drive that 
 skunk out of the mountains. Then I'm a-comin 5 back 
 and ask the best, the most trustin' and confidin' woman 
 in the world to marry me. Good-morning, ladies." He 
 walked lightly and rapidly down the trail before them. 
 
 The faces of the women left behind him were pale 
 and stunned. 
 
 With a quick gesture of self-reproach the Mission 
 ary laid one hand against her cheek, as with the strange, 
 sad eyes of the mystic she gazed above the swaying 
 pine tops into the depths of the blue, blue sky. 
 
 " Oh, I haven't met it right. This was Mrs. Thomas's 
 soul problem, and I didn't help her solve it. I just got 
 mad and quit." 
 
 " Such is life," murmured Mrs. Landvetter, with 
 some vague attempt at consolation. " You can't neffer 
 tell." 
 
 " Take it back, Landvetter," returned Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan practically, brushing a bit of adhering clay from 
 her short skirt. " Take it back. Life ain't nothin* so 
 cantankerous. You mean, ' such is men.' ' 
 
 139
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 I* RANGES sat in her cabin door that evening. The 
 air was unusually mild and the moonlight lay on the 
 hills ; beyond great wastes of shadow the peaks shone 
 with a white unearthly glory. The spring, the delicate, 
 evanescent spring of the mountains, had vanished, and 
 Frances, whose imagination had been quickened by liv 
 ing in the vast solitudes, had pictured an airy maiden 
 who stood for a moment on the shining summits and 
 then sped downward, flowers springing where her light 
 feet brushed the hillsides, down, down to the valleys of 
 mist. 
 
 It was summer now, the summer of golden days of 
 an ineffable freshness, of long clear evenings, when 
 the primroses opened their white-petalled cups and filled 
 the air with their enchanting and exotic fragrance ; but 
 even the healing balm of the earth's beauty could not 
 restore the Missionary's soul. Since morning she had 
 sat in that abasement of spirit, that profound depres 
 sion she always experienced when she had, as she 
 phrased it, " denied her Lord " and " failed to live up 
 to the light." 
 
 " Heve I sat dreaming of the universal love," she 
 reproached herself in bitter scorn, " and when I was 
 called on to prove it to Mrs. Thomas, I had nothing to 
 give her, because I dared to judge. he,r and her way of 
 
 140
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 loving. It makes me sick, it makes me sick ! Oh," with 
 a wave of impatient anguish, " do I always have to 
 judge and manage? Won't I ever reach the 'neither 
 do I condemn thee ' ? " Her tightly clasped hands, 
 which she had raised to her heart with an habitual 
 gesture, fell limply in her lap, and her head sank. She 
 felt sore and spent, as if she had essayed to climb a high 
 mountain and had slipped and fallen, bruised upon the 
 rocks. 
 
 There she sat, until, hearing footsteps upon the little 
 bridge, she lifted her head to see the tall figure of 
 Garvin advancing through the moonlight. He came 
 slowly, with down-bent head and, it seemed to Frances, 
 with dragging steps, as if he lifted his feet with an 
 effort. 
 
 " Don't get up, Miss Benson," he said, as she arose 
 and stood in the doorway. " Don't get up; I'll just sit 
 down on the step here, if you will let me. Please don't 
 bother about a chair. I'd rather sit down here," suit 
 ing the action to the words. He rested his bare head 
 against the lintel of the door, and she fancied she heard 
 him sigh. Some instinct bade her hold her peace, and 
 for a time they sat in silence; then he drew one hand 
 across his brow. 
 
 " Miss Benson," he said slowly, " I don't know how 
 I can ever thank you for your kindness to Lutie. You 
 must never think that I underrate it. I know how busy 
 your life is, and I know how many demands you have 
 on your time and patience ; and when I consider this, and 
 think of all the hours you manage to give to Lutie, and 
 
 141
 
 that you have been not only friend and companion, 
 but nurse as well, why I haven't words to thank 
 you." 
 
 " It is not necessary to thank me," she replied. " It 
 has made me happy to do what little I can for her. 
 Lutie is very lovable, Mr. Garvin." 
 
 " Yes, poor little thing ! " he sighed. " But, Miss 
 Benson, because you have already done so much, I 
 have hated to come to you in this new perplexity, and 
 yet " sighing again " what can I do ? I have no 
 where else to turn. You see, the doctors all agree that 
 she has only a little while to live. Well, if they are 
 right, and these are really her last days, why, I want 
 them happy. If her fancy turns to jewels and clothes 
 and that sort of thing, by God, she shall have them ! " 
 He brought his big brown hand with the long lean 
 fingers down on his knee. " I want her last days happy 
 at any cost. Ethel means well, and she's been a good 
 friend to Lutie; but she's crazy about religion, and 
 she's got some kind of a fixed idea that she's got to 
 save Lutie's soul at any cost. I don't see " with a 
 short vexed laugh " why she don't get enough excite 
 ment out of beating her tambourine and singing and 
 praying in the streets without tormenting my poor 
 girl. 
 
 " Every time Ethel talks to her about religion it 
 brings on a nervous attack. Fortunately, she's taken 
 rather a fancy to the lunger preacher what's his 
 name? Carrothers and he hasn't bothered her much 
 about her soul; he knows better, I guess. But then it's 
 
 142
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 anything that's new with her now. She's so tired the 
 restlessness of disease, you know." He brooded mood 
 ily. " You will help me, won't you, Missioner ? " fall 
 ing for the first time into the familiar village term. 
 " You are all I have to depend on. The new difficulty 
 I spoke of? Oh! it is this. The doctors insist that 
 she must have nurses to care for her, and, indeed, she 
 is so ill that it is absolutely necessary ; and yet I can 
 do nothing with her, she rebels so at the thought. It 
 makes her feel that she is really ill, you see. Now, if 
 you could help me persuade her it is necessary ? I can't 
 be with her all of the time. You see, there is a 
 great deal of business which must have more or less 
 attention, and then " with a faint smile " I've got 
 to sleep a little." 
 
 Frances looked at him. This man, worn with vigils 
 and spent with the endeavour to soothe the last days of 
 a poor wreck of a woman, was that same Garvin of 
 whom Ethel and Herries had spoken as the willing 
 companion, the complaisant prey, of light women. It 
 was an incredible, a horrible thought, and she put it 
 from her. 
 
 " I will do everything that I can, believe that," she 
 answered earnestly. 
 
 " Thank you. I was sure of it," he said simply. 
 
 True to her word, she did try, the next morning, and 
 succeeded so well that without undue excitement Lutie 
 was not only persuaded to permit the presence of 
 nurses, but even looked forward to their arrival as a 
 new interest. 
 
 143
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 After having accomplished her mission, Frances re 
 turned through the village and stopped at two or three 
 houses. Everywhere she heard discussed the one topic 
 on which Zenith was, for the moment, concentrating its 
 interest: Myrtle Swanstrom's mischievous skirmishes 
 with the invincible Mrs. Evans, the match game which 
 was being played between them with the hazard at 
 stake the lunger preacher. 
 
 All Zenith agreed that the game, as it stood, had 
 been played by experts, and in a masterly manner, and 
 that it was a contest well worth putting one's money 
 on. 
 
 To show a few of the moves Mrs. Evans it was who 
 kindly offered to assist the preacher in planning the 
 arrangement of his cabin, and, as they sat about the 
 kitchen table in the evening studying his drawings, 
 would appeal to the shy and silent Susie for advice: 
 " Mr. Carrothers," explanatorily, " she's such a house 
 keeper as never was. When the cabin's finished, we'll 
 come over, and Susie shall get up one of her suppers 
 for you. My Lord! They're simply great! Susie, lift 
 the coffee off the stove and hand down Preacher a piece 
 of pie." 
 
 But it was Myrtle who would inadvertently and inno 
 cently meet him as he came whistling down the hill at 
 sunset. Myrtle, who would at first refuse to turn back, 
 protesting that she had " an errand further along," and 
 would then be reluctantly persuaded to postpone the 
 errand and go for a stroll. 
 
 And if Carrothers was frequently invited to supper 
 144
 
 It was Myrtle who would innocently meet him
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 at the homes of those Myrtle called " the Evans click," 
 with Susie invariably and ostentatiously seated beside 
 him, a proceeding which caused the retiring girl a more 
 obvious embarrassment on each occasion why, the 
 preacher, on the other hand, was more and more fre 
 quently to be seen sitting on the step of the Swanstrom 
 cabin through the summer evenings ; and Frank Mc- 
 Guire's frown daily grew deeper, his expression more 
 sullen. 
 
 " I do' know, Mis' Evans," remarked Mrs. Thomas 
 frankly at the Wednesday afternoon meeting of the 
 Ladies' Aid Society; "I do' know if you're just on 
 the right tack. 'Course," sighing deeply, " we got to 
 recognise that bacon an' greens is more to a brute of 
 a man than the gentle influence of woman ; but you 
 got to remember that he's young and ain't made such 
 a god of vittles as they do when they're older. Now, 
 Susie is always showed off to him bakin', or sewin', or 
 scrubbin,' while Myrtle comes saunterin' along his path 
 in a white dress, the sun shinin' on her yellow hair an' 
 a sprinklin' of musk on her handkercher'. If you no 
 tice, for the last three Sundays, he's been rantin' 
 about the lilies of the field. Always watch the 
 straws, I says, an' then bimeby you'll get to know 
 somethin'." 
 
 " Myrtle had ought to be remonstrated with," said 
 Mrs. Evans decisively, " an' I think Missioner here is 
 the one to do it." 
 
 "Do you? Well, I'm not at all sure that I do," 
 replied Frances. Nevertheless, she pondered consider- 
 
 145
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 ably if a word in season were not her duty and also 
 as to the best methods of approaching Myrtle. 
 
 Opportunity, however, arranged the matter without 
 her lifting a finger ; for one afternoon, a few days 
 later, as she sat sewing by her cabin door, occasion 
 ally lifting her eyes to watch the magpies flutter their 
 black and white wings through the pines, or the chip 
 munks whisk silently up to snatch a bit of food from 
 the pan that she always placed for them, Myrtle came 
 panting up the trail, her pink face glowing in the 
 depths of her pinker sunbonnet. 
 
 " Howdy, Missioner," she called blithely. " I ain't 
 seen you for a long time." 
 
 " No, indeed, and I'm very glad to see you," re 
 turned Frances, reflecting that this might be a good 
 chance to speak that word in season which was weigh 
 ing upon her mind. 
 
 " You see," said Myrtle explanatorily, " we got com 
 pany. Aunt Ella and Uncle Hiram from the East. 
 Company's lots of trouble, Missioner. 'Fore they come, 
 it was gettin' the house all cleaned, an' tidies an' 
 throws an* pincushion covers done up; an' between 
 times workin' on Paw to let Maw cut his hair, an' mak- 
 in' him promise to wear a collar while they're here. 
 
 " Uncle Hiram, he's well off, an' Aunt Ella, she 
 always was that airy an' set up, Maw says. So Maw 
 can't bear for her to think that because we live up here 
 in the mountains, we don't know what's what, an' don't 
 have things right. Yes, company's lots of trouble." 
 
 For a moment Myrtle's gaze sought the sun-washed 
 146
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 valley, and then her voice was lifted again, anxiously 
 and withal hesitatingly. 
 
 " Say, Miss Benson, the worst is about Frank Mc- 
 Guire. You see," pleating the ruffle on her apron, a 
 flush rising on her soft cheek, " Frank an' me was 
 goin' to be married this summer, an' Paw was tickled 
 to death, an' then Maw, she put her foot down be 
 cause she wanted to show off to Aunt Ella and act like 
 I could get Preacher. An' to please her, I told Frank 
 I wanted to put off the wedding till fall. Well, he 
 wouldn't believe it was just on account of Maw's pride 
 before Aunt Ella. He suspicioned all the time that I 
 was going to throw him over for the preacher, an' he 
 took on something awful; and now," two large tears 
 rolling down her cheeks, " we ain't hardly on speakin' 
 terms, an' he says he won't be played with no longer, 
 an* that I've got to tell folks at the raspberry social 
 they're goin' to have before long that we're goin' to be 
 married or he'll track out over the range and never 
 come back." 
 
 " But, Myrtle," said Frances gently, " why wait 
 until then? Why not decide now? " 
 
 " No," her blue eyes flashing through the drops 
 which still clung to her lashes, " Frank's got to 'polo- 
 gise first for the way he spoke. I ain't forgot some of 
 the things he said ; callin' me ' heartless flirt.' Well, I've 
 showed him what flirtin' is." 
 
 " Ah, Myrtle," remonstrated Frances, " wouldn't it 
 make you happier to forgive him? It is easy to forgive 
 those we love." 
 
 147
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 "No, it ain't," said Myrtle sharply. "They're the 
 ones it's the hardest to forgive." She shut her lips with 
 a toss of her head. 
 
 " Say, Missioner," after an interval of silence and in 
 a burst of what Frances regarded as reprehensible 
 levity, " Preacher's awful nice, ain't he ? " 
 
 " He is very pleasant," was the cold response. 
 
 " Frank's terrible jealous of him." Myrtle made the 
 statement with undisguised pride. 
 
 The Missionary was genuinely shocked. " Myrtle ! 
 How can you accept Mr. Carrothers's attentions if you 
 really care for Frank? " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing," said Myrtle . indifferently. 
 " Seems like there's a-plenty reasons for my carrying 
 on with him to please Maw, an' spite Mis' Evans an' 
 her click, an' help out Susie Hazen. Don't you tell none 
 of 'em, Miss Benson, but Susie's that mortified that she 
 don't know what to do; an' she don't dare to speak 
 up, 'cause Mis' Evans is that set. You know her. Why, 
 all these tea-parties they're havin', an' settin' Susie 
 beside Preacher, makes her so pizen shamed she don't 
 know what to do. Susie's fellow is Tom Eagen, over to 
 Black Snake, an' she's goin' to marry him in Septem 
 ber; but she don't want Mis' Evans to know it, 'cause 
 she'd stick her foot in it, sure. That click just think 
 they can boss everything here in Zenith, but I'm 
 a-goin' to show them that they can't boss me." 
 
 " But, Myrtle, is it worthy of you to encourage Mr. 
 Carrothers and torment poor Frank just to spite some 
 one?" 
 
 148
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 " Oh, it don't hurt the boys, really it don't," as 
 serted Myrtle, anxious to retain the Missionary's good 
 opinion. " Preacher, he don't care a snap about me. 
 He's got the picture of a girl from Illinois in his 
 watch an' he just wants to talk about her an' take on 
 about how lonely he is ; and as for Frank, it won't hurt 
 him none. Why, Missioner, some of the boys have told 
 me they'd drown themselves in the creek, or jump over 
 the Pass, or go up above timber line and live like 
 recluses ; but they never did, not one of 'em. And you 
 just see," rising to go home, "if I don't teach Frank 
 McGuire what flirting is." 
 
 Frances looked anxiously after the girl as she started 
 down the hill, then she ran down the road after the 
 younger woman. " Myrtle," she said in a voice which 
 trembled, " don't try to get even with Frank ; remem 
 ber his provocation. Sometimes whims like this spoil a 
 woman's whole life. Make it up, Myrtle." 
 
 Myrtle put her hands affectionately on the Mission 
 ary's shoulders and laughed. " I'll teach him," she said 
 emphatically. " Don't you worry none, Missioner ; I 
 got to teach him." 
 
 Frances turned away discouraged, and with a sigh 
 retraced her steps. 
 
 That evening, while yet the daylight lingered, she 
 was hastily summoned to Lutie's bedside. After she had 
 entered the house she passed quickly to the red boudoir ; 
 there she was arrested by the sight of the crouching 
 figure of Ethel, who sat with her head bent upon the 
 
 149
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 table, her slight form shaken by suppressed but hyster 
 ical sobs, while Carrothers stood beside her, his lips 
 compressed, his face pale, and fright, it struck Frances, 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, Missioner," gasped Ethel at the sight of her. 
 " Oh, Missioner, it's the awfullest thing that ever hap 
 pened. We've been drove out again, an' she's dyin' 
 she's dyin' in her sins." She dropped on her knees, her 
 hands clutching the folds of Frances's skirt. She swayed 
 back and forth, her face was distorted with weeping, 
 and her fair hair falling wildly about it. " Missioner, 
 it's up to you. It's up to you. We can't do nothing 
 more. Walt's drove us out ; but it's up to you to save 
 her." 
 
 Frances drew her hand heavily across her eyes. She 
 had known days of perplexity and nights of prayer on 
 this subject, and Ethel's appeal was like a blow struck 
 on quivering nerves. She drew one deep involuntary 
 sigh, and looked above Ethel's head, beyond Carroth 
 ers to the scarlet, smiling, unctuous cardinals, the pink 
 and blue maidens dancing on the startlingly green 
 sward, upon the walls. 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, Ethel again broke 
 into hysterical, incoherent appeals, which died into sob 
 bing silence as Garvin appeared at the door. 
 
 His face was dead white, a dark, toneless pallor; 
 there were new and deeper lines about his eyes, and 
 his mouth, as he glanced quickly at Ethel and Car 
 rothers, became set in a grim expression of satiric 
 scorn. 
 
 150
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 " Lutie is waiting for you, Miss Benson." And 
 Frances, stooping a moment to smooth back Ethel's 
 hair and gently unclasping her hands, turned to him 
 with a sense of relief. Here, at last, was strength and 
 self-control. 
 
 Lutie lay propped high upon her pillows. Her eyes 
 were wide and wild, her face terror-stricken. Her gaze 
 held Frances like the clutch of a drowning man; but 
 she did not speak until the Missionary bent above her 
 and took both the weak, fluttering hands in hers. 
 
 " Ethel says I'm a-going to die, Missioner," she 
 muttered in her hoarse, almost inaudible voice, " and I 
 got to know something, I got to know the truth. Walt 
 here, he says anything to please me. He'd lie his head 
 off for me ; wouldn't you, Walt ? " There was a touch 
 of the old, pathetic pride she took in any evidences of 
 his affection for her. " But you " it was as if the 
 words were expelled from her by the force of a passion 
 which overrode the difficulties of speech " you wouldn't 
 lie to save my soul from hell; would you, Mis 
 sioner? " 
 
 A weight as of thousands of tons fell upon Frances's 
 heart. She looked across the bed at Garvin. He was 
 gazing at her with such profound intensity, such con 
 centrated appeal, that she caught his prayer as readily 
 as if it had been expressed in words. It was : " Promise 
 anything, anything that will spare this tortured child. 
 Soothe her. Give her peace. In human pity, let your 
 beliefs and standards go. These are her last conscious 
 moments." But there was no acquiescence, no promise 
 
 151
 
 in the Missionary's eyes ; and it was with difficulty that 
 he suppressed a groan. 
 
 And Frances suddenly felt an overwhelming pity for 
 him ; her strength, moral and physical, lapsed in a mo 
 ment to weakness ; she longed to assure him again of 
 her co-operation and sympathy. His unspoken appeal 
 stirred the depths of her nature; but the dying girl 
 upon the bed was asking a greater thing than he. She 
 was asking with all her seeking soul for the one thing 
 that love would deny her, and her appeal struck deeper 
 than his. 
 
 All the finer forces, the trained spiritual forces of 
 Frances's nature rose to a decision. Lutie had asked for 
 the truth, as Frances knew it; by her soul's light, the 
 dying girl should have it; and having thus determined, 
 she felt her weakness disappear and strength flow to her 
 from infinite sources. 
 
 " You wouldn't lie to save my soul f r " the hoarse 
 
 plea failed. 
 
 " I wouldn't lie to save your soul from hell," came 
 the steady answer. 
 
 Garvin's head dropped on his hands. 
 
 " Ethel and Preacher say I'm a-going to die. Am 
 I?" 
 
 And Frances, hesitating a moment, answered accord 
 ing to her lights, her eyes fixed on the dying woman's. 
 
 " I don't know, Lutie. Only God knows." 
 
 " And they say that to save my soul I got to repent. 
 I got to give up Walt an' never see him again in another 
 world, 'cause I been living with him in sin. Is that true? 
 
 152
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 And if I don't repent livin' with him and being happy, 
 I'm a-goin' to hell maybe to-night. Is it true? Is it 
 true? For I can't repent; I can't. I'm glad." Through 
 the tortured anguish of her voice there sang a note of 
 triumph. 
 
 As she listened, Frances felt herself as one alone on 
 a midnight sea, moonless, starless ; the waters rose 
 blacker and higher, the great waves threatening to en 
 gulf her. The truth, that rock on which she must plant 
 her feet where was it? Did it lie in the dogmas and 
 doctrines she had unquestioningly accepted, the moral 
 and religious axioms which she had taken without 
 thought or reflection to be the eternal verities ? She had 
 condemned Mrs. Thomas from the narrowness of her 
 standards ; was this new distrust of those standards a 
 mere reaction from a too rigid but nevertheless correct 
 ideal, and therefore a subtle form of temptation? 
 
 Lutie had asked for the truth and she had promised 
 to give it. Oh, God! What was the truth? There was 
 nowhere to turn, no one to turn to. The answer must 
 come from herself, from her own deep, eternal convic 
 tions, from the depths of her soul. She looked down 
 ward at the girl on the bed, the butterfly, the glory 
 of her iridescent wings shrivelled by burning suns and 
 torn by beating rains, and there welled up from the 
 depths of her soul a great wave of love, which rolled 
 out over the black waters of her doubt and stilled their 
 clamour. 
 
 " The truth, Missioner, the truth ! Am I goin' to 
 hell maybe to-night ? " 
 
 153
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " No." Frances's form seemed to dilate, her voice 
 rang like a trumpet. " That's a lie. A cruel, hard, 
 wicked lie. You're going to have your chance, Lutie. 
 Something you've never had before." She dropped on 
 her knees and pressed the frail hands in hers. " Be glad, 
 Lutie. It's all love and beauty; there's nothing else." 
 
 For a moment the girl gazed at her fearfully, not 
 daring to believe, and then she reflected the white 
 transfiguration of the Missionary's face, the mystic 
 rapture of her eyes. A change so swift as to seem a 
 miracle passed over her face, the lines faded, the fur 
 rows of her brow were smoothed out as if by the touch 
 of a healing hand; on her lips was a smile like a 
 child's. 
 
 She turned to Garvin and was about to speak, when 
 she paused and listened. Frances and Garvin, surprised, 
 listened, too; but there was no sound save the sigh 
 of the perpetual wind about the house. 
 
 " Don't you hear it, Walt the whistle of that train 
 the train you took me away on straight into heaven 
 straight into " 
 
 Her voice failed; but in her dimming eyes lingered 
 the ecstatic vision ; on her lips was the dreaming child's 
 smile. And in the first sweep of that strange and sol 
 emn wind which blows before the dawn, the veering, 
 faint flame of Garvin's light-o'-love was snuffed out. 
 
 154
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 IJESET by an intense physical and mental weariness, 
 the week which followed Lutie's death remained in 
 Frances's memory as a season of gloom and confusion, 
 punctuated by the comments of Mrs. Nitschkan and 
 her circle, the sobs of Ethel and the platitudes of 
 Carrothers, to whom Garvin had made public amends 
 for past affronts by asking him to conduct the funeral 
 services. 
 
 But far more than Ethel's tears or Mrs. Thomas's 
 sighs did Carrothers's consolatory offices, confined to 
 remarks of a tritely comforting nature, wear upon 
 Frances's spirit; and yet, had she but known it, the 
 " lunger preacher " showed her a real, if unconscious, 
 mercy by reserving his most stirring commonplaces for 
 the burst of oratory which he felt fitly signalised so 
 ornate and flower-decked an occasion as Lutie's funeral. 
 
 As he announced at the close of an hour's shrill and 
 stumbling address, his few words were invested with 
 a double significance, and served, not only to pay trib 
 ute to the dead, but were also a valedictory to his 
 profession. 
 
 His voice shook plaintively and tears filled his eyes 
 as he attributed this act of renunciation to his failing 
 health, which required an outdoor occupation for its 
 restoration. But it is doubtful if he was wholly de- 
 
 155
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 serving of the sympathy he thus exacted, for as a shep 
 herd of souls he had ever found the pasturage offered 
 him poor and scant; and the carpentering trade, to 
 which he now eagerly turned, satisfied all the yearnings 
 of his soul and gave play to the real skill of his 
 hands. 
 
 To the censorious, it may have appeared that Car- 
 rothers dwelt more upon his transit from one activity 
 to another than upon Lutie's passing from life to 
 death; but Zenith was not disposed to cavil. The 
 double-barrelled oration, the elaborate preparations, the 
 heavily gorgeous ceremonial, all satisfied to the full the 
 village sense of importance. If the eyes of the world 
 were not upon the camp now, they should be, and that 
 reflection was in itself ample cause for pride; but 
 through those wearing days preceding the funeral 
 Frances was conscious of an ever-increasing admiration 
 for Garvin. He was constantly appealed to to decide 
 matters of opinion the proper width of satin ribbon 
 roses or lilies which of the various costly laces should 
 enshroud the frail figure which lay in sculptured, ala 
 baster indifference to the gauds with which she had 
 struggled so feverishly to conceal and decorate the 
 menacing shape of Death. 
 
 Garvin gave to these matters his complete, if often 
 perplexed, consideration. It was evident that he was 
 determined that everything, even down to the smallest 
 detail, should be directed in accordance with what Lutie 
 would have preferred and what he personally loathed; 
 but as soon as the last possible tribute, the most infini- 
 
 156
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 tesimal grain of " mint, anise, and cummin " had been 
 paid, he had clasped Frances's hand strongly for a 
 moment, muttered some broken words of appreciation 
 of her kindness, and journeyed away, none knew 
 whither. That he had taken Angel with him, in charge 
 of two Chinese servants, was, however, a matter of 
 heartfelt congratulation throughout the village. 
 
 " My patience ! " said Mrs. Thomas, shaking her 
 head solemnly. " Every woman in this camp ought to 
 be right down on her marrow-bones praisin' the Lord 
 that Walt didn't ask none of us to keep that child while 
 he was gone. He told several of my gentlemen friends 
 that he was going away, an' one of 'em mentioned it 
 the other evenin' while I was entertainin' callers, just 
 spoke of it casual-like, you know, the way men do. My 
 patience ! It give me such a turn that I mos' fainted 
 dead away. I says real quick to Dan Mayhew, ' Hand 
 me that newspaper to fan with.' * Air you sick, 
 Marthy ? ' he asks. * Not but what I may be worse,' I 
 answers ; an' I tell you I spoke from my heart. 
 
 " Well, I bore up as well as I could all evening, all 
 the time tryin' my hardest to think what was the best 
 to do, 'cause, as you girls all know, Walt's awful good, 
 an' our men are all more or less obligated to him, an' 
 if he should be goin' to ask me to keep Angel, I didn't 
 see how I could refuse. I thought an' thought about 
 it all night, an' the next mornin' I got up bright an' 
 early, tore my bed to pieces, an' made it up all fresh, 
 turnin' the covers back, ready to jump in at a moment's 
 notice. Then I called the children together, an' I says, 
 
 157
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 very solemn : * Now, I want you kids to listen to what 
 Mommie says, an* it's this: I may be took very sick 
 before the day's over; I can't tell yet; but if the Lord 
 should see fit to afflict me, which you'll know by me 
 groanin' in bed, you ain't to show no surprise. If you 
 do, it's a lickin' apiece. You mind now.' ' 
 
 Her three bosom friends nodded sympathetically. 
 Mrs. Landvetter sighed deeply and clicked her lace 
 needles together, always with her an unfailing sign of 
 mental perturbation. " Ven I heard he go, I tremble 
 all over like yelly for two whole days," she mur 
 mured. 
 
 " I went a-fishin'," said Mrs. Nitschkan happily. 
 
 " I wasted no time in layin' out a strip of red flan 
 nel," remarked Mrs. Evans decisively, " pinned it round 
 my arm, so as to have it handy to tie my face up in 
 if Walt come a-knockin' at the door. There's nothin' 
 like an ulcerated tooth in such emergencies. It stands 
 for itself. It don't need no explanations, an' it's known 
 to last a week or more, an' take your mind off every 
 thing else." 
 
 Her companions hastened to pay her their accus 
 tomed tribute of admiration. No matter what the per 
 plexities of the situation, they were so easily dominated 
 by Mrs. Evans that her awed friends could almost see 
 the eagle's wings with which she soared above all mun 
 dane difficulties. 
 
 " We ain't all got your wits, Effie," Mrs. Thomas 
 gently reminded her, " but in our poor weak way we 
 done the best we could. I had a kind of a scare that 
 
 158
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 the burden might fall on Missioner, an' I knew if it 
 did, all the half -saved souls in this camp would jus* 
 fall back into the pit, 'cause she'd have time for nothin' 
 but that devil child." 
 
 " That's true as you're alive ! " agreed Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan, rising and buttoning her man's coat about her 
 burly figure. " But entertainin' as you ladies are, I got 
 to go home an' finish my house-cleanin'." 
 
 Had a bolt of lightning fallen from a clear sky it 
 would have produced about the same effect as this 
 apparently simple and matter-of-fact announcement. 
 An expression of dismay spread over each slightly 
 paling face, furtive glances were exchanged, and one 
 or two of the ladies opened their mouths as if about to 
 speak, and then hastily closed them ; but if Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan noticed these signs of consternation, she had rea 
 sons of her own for ignoring them, and it was not until 
 she was well out of sight that her companions per 
 mitted themselves a free expression of opinion. 
 
 " She's a-goin' a-gipsyin' again ! " said Mrs. Thomas 
 in a tense, sibilant whisper. " You all know there ain't 
 nothin' else on earth or heaven that can ever make her 
 clean house. Yes, she's a-fixin' to go gipsyin'. Effie," 
 turning appealingly to Mrs. Evans, " can't you stop 
 her? " 
 
 " I ain't never been able to before," replied Mrs. 
 Evans shortly, with a tightening of the lips. It was 
 always bitter to her to admit failure. 
 
 " Still, she von't neffer leave until after de raspberry 
 festival," advanced Mrs. Landvetter hopefully. " She 
 
 159
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 von't neffer go till she see how dat turn oudt; vedder 
 Myrtle or Susie gets Preacher." 
 
 Mrs. Evans threw her one steel-hard, flashing glance. 
 " They's no question of that kind, Mrs. Landvetter," 
 she answered haughtily. " That matter is practically 
 settled. Myrtle, for all she's so brazen, has no show." 
 
 " 'Course," agreed Mrs. Thomas, in hasty and spe 
 cious compromise. " It's what we've all said time an' 
 time again, times without number," her imagination 
 soaring. " But, girls, trouble is comin' thick an' fast 
 on us if Sadie is really thinkin' of goin' gipsyin'. It's 
 worse most than havin' to take care of Angel, for it 
 means her four kids, the worst here or anywheres else, 
 turned loose on this camp." 
 
 But to explain in a measure this seemingly imminent 
 catastrophe with which Mrs. Nitschkan's friends felt 
 themselves unable to cope: For some reason, perhaps 
 the call of her gipsy blood, at intervals of two or three 
 years, the mountain woman became beset with longing 
 for a life more thoroughly in the open than the one 
 she enjoyed. She was one of those restless, variable 
 beings to whom the " long, brown path," with its thou 
 sand possibilities and surprises, makes an irresistible 
 appeal. 
 
 When this desire of the hills came upon her, she 
 stayed not upon the order of her going, but joyously 
 rose up to follow her vagrant impulses. 
 
 After some slight pretence of setting her house in 
 order, which she dignified by the name of house-clean 
 ing, she would depart, taking with her a camping outfit, 
 
 160
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 and would be gone a month, six weeks, two months, at 
 last returning hale, tanned, and hearty, full of new 
 life and laughter, her larder enriched with bear and 
 venison, fish and fowl, and her tongue quick with a 
 score of fisherman's and hunter's yarns to enliven the 
 evenings for her husband and the lean, brown prospec 
 tors, when they gathered in her cabin to play poker and 
 pinochle through the long winter nights. 
 
 " It ain't no use sayin' a word to her," Mrs. Thomas 
 continued to mourn. " Last time we got wind of her 
 traipsin' off, we got the Bishop to talk to her, an' he 
 did; but as near as I can make out she jus' twisted 
 him around her finger. He says to her in that mild way 
 he has, he says : ' Mis' Nitschkan, frankly now, do you 
 think you ought to evade your sacred duties of wife an' 
 mother, by takin' to the woods this way ? ' 
 
 " ' Gosh a'mighty ! ' answers Nitschkan, as quick as 
 you please, ' when I been in the woods I see the mother 
 birds shove the young ones outen the nest an' make 'em 
 learn to fly, whether they wanted to or not. They was 
 give their wings to fly with, wasn't they? Now, Bishop, 
 kids was give their hands, an' feet, an' eyes to use, an* 
 the way to teach 'em anything is to make 'em use 'em, 
 an' give their mommie a chanst to rest sometimes. 
 Them kids'll get along all right, if you don't bother.' 
 
 " An' would you believe it, the Bishop says to me 
 afterward : * I do' know,' he says, ' if Mis' Nitschkan 
 ain't a-showin' a beautiful trust, leavin' her children in 
 the hands of the Lord like that.' But, as I told him, 
 right to his face, too, I wisht she'd take to showin* 
 
 161
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 her trust some way that wouldn't wear her friends to 
 the bone. 
 
 " Well, you girls know how quick I am to feel things, 
 an' for the past week or two I been sensin' trouble, 
 smellin' it like, y' know. Here's Bob Flick up here, an* 
 everybody knows he's been crazy about the Black Pearl 
 for years; an' Shock O'Brien as jealous as can be. I 
 tell you it means a shootin' affray or somethin'." 
 
 Mrs. Evans's eyebrows twitched impatiently : " You 
 mean a shootin' scrape or a cuttin' affray, Marthy. 
 Don't you never read the papers? But I guess there's 
 no danger of such things. I guess you think trouble's 
 comin' 'cause you feel kind o' uneasy yourself. Mar 
 thy," with an irritated and accusing glance, " it's been 
 some time since Dan Mayhew sassed your best friends 
 and throwed it in their faces that he was goin' down 
 to ask you to marry him ; but although he sits in your 
 parlour night after night, you ain't seen fit to confide in 
 them as have hauled you out of too many bogs to be 
 receivin' any such treatment." 
 
 At this indictment of her sins of omission Mrs. 
 Thomas's pink and white face flushed deeply and she 
 pouted like a child. 
 
 " I ain't made no choice," twisting her handkerchief 
 between her fingers. " It's it's more fun bein' a widow 
 than I thought it was goin' to be, an'," in defiant pride, 
 " they's more than Dan Mayhew wants me ; they's 
 they's " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Evans contemptuously, " I 
 make no doubt you're willin' to waste your time on a 
 
 162
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 dozen of 'em. Seth not six months in his grave, an' you 
 a-entertainin' callers every evenin'. No wonder you're 
 the talk of the camp." 
 
 Mrs. Thomas stirred rebelliously. " I don't care, I 
 don't care," she cried ; " they're bound to talk about 
 somebody. It ain't so long since they was clatterin' 
 their tongues over you, Effie Evans." 
 
 Mrs. Evans winced, but nevertheless maintained her 
 habitual attitude of superior and slightly contemp 
 tuous aloofness. " They ain't never spoke light of me 
 with any man," she said with meaning. 
 
 The blow drew blood. " That's your blamed luck," 
 retorted Mrs. Thomas bitterly. " You know very well 
 what the Psalmist or somebody, I don't just remember 
 who, says, I heard it once in a recitation, ' Be you 
 chaste as ice an' pure as snow, there's always somebody 
 mean an' ornery enough to throw mud at you.' " 
 
 " Veil, veil, veil," put in Mrs. Landvetter soothingly, 
 " this ain't a-decidin' vat ve goin' to do about Mis' 
 Nitschkan." 
 
 " I don't see nothin' to do at the present time," said 
 Mrs. Evans, " unless we lay the matter before Mis- 
 sioner; she might have some influence with Sadie." 
 
 " That's so," assented Mrs. Thomas, with restored 
 cheerfulness ; " it's her business to be always ready with 
 spiritual advice an' to bear our burdens for us ; though 
 I will say, an' I got a right to say it, for no one feels 
 kinder to her than I do, that she don't always take to 
 burden-bearin' as cheerful an' willin' as a person ought 
 to that's got that privilege." 
 
 163
 
 The three then, having decided upon this course of 
 action, wasted no time in acquainting Frances with 
 the nature of this especial burden they proposed to 
 bind upon her shoulders; but although she listened, 
 as always, patiently to the plaints borne her, the mat 
 ter of Mrs. Nitschkan's impending gipsying appeared 
 too remote and unimportant an event to command her 
 entire attention ; and if the worried little group had 
 realised how quickly she dismissed the subject from her 
 mind, they would have considered Mrs. Thomas fully 
 justified in her criticisms. There were, however, sev 
 eral reasons, reasons more potent and obscure than 
 Frances herself dreamed, for her unusual preoccupa 
 tion. Not given to introspection the circumstances of 
 her life had precluded that she ascribed this strange, 
 new absorption to one cause the inheritance of wealth 
 which had suddenly befallen her, as with unwonted 
 playfulness she described it to Herries. A poor treasure 
 to the average gold-seeker, but one which the old man 
 at least appreciated; for the mine-owner had left his 
 house open in the care of servants during his absence, 
 and in those last few words with Frances, just before 
 his departure, had besought her to make free use of 
 his library, and she had, with a grateful heart, accepted 
 his invitation. 
 
 She had always been fond of reading, but her life 
 had been too busy a one, her faculties too much trained 
 in one direction the effort " to soothe and to solace, 
 to help and to heal the sick world that leaned on her " 
 to permit her to give either time or an undivided atten- 
 
 164
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 tion to books ; but Garvin's interest and enthusiasm had 
 aroused and stimulated hers, and she was becoming 
 more and more conscious of developing mental powers 
 which demanded nutriment, and stretched out eager 
 tentacles toward the rich sustenance on his shelves. 
 
 With the end in view of obtaining time for reading, 
 she had, with her usual energy and by the exercise of 
 her superior executive ability, so far succeeded in 
 systematising her work that she was able, for the first 
 time in her life, to claim as her own several hours a 
 day. These she devoted to the new and fascinating 
 diversion of reading books; and now and again oc 
 curred seasons when, during the long brilliant days of 
 summer, and sometimes far into the fresh, cool nights, 
 she read, read with the avidity of the eager and seeking 
 mind long deprived of food. 
 
 In those weeks of Garvin's absence she went through 
 many books, tearing the heart from some of them, and 
 deeply pondering and rereading others. She was too 
 familiar with the Bible not to turn instinctively to the 
 best and most sincere literature ; but she was also too 
 lacking in any universal range of acquirement or cul 
 tivation, too fully of her own time, adequately to appre 
 ciate the great masters of earlier eras, those mellow men 
 of the world whose style but reflected the polished and 
 tempered steel of their minds. 
 
 It was to more modern masters, to Emerson and 
 Hawthorne that she naturally and finally turned. To 
 Emerson the mystic in her made quick response, and 
 not only the mystic, but the lover of unhampered, inde- 
 
 165
 
 pendent thought and action. To her he was always 
 " the friend and helper of all who would live the life of 
 the spirit " ; and throughout her life, phrases and para 
 graphs from his essays remained in her memory as 
 shining strands of living light. 
 
 She would sometimes sit beside her table far into the 
 night reading his pages, until the lamp burned dim 
 and low; but it was by some instinctive selection of a 
 fitting environment that she reserved Hawthorne for the 
 soft, scented gloom of the pine glades, or the rocky 
 ledges of the hillsides, where the sound of the plashing, 
 falling water sang in her ears and the wind whirled the 
 sun-flecked, flickering shadows of the aspens over her 
 open book. With the wood-silence about her, the wind 
 stirring the hair on her brow, she read those mysterious, 
 beauty-haunted pages, her imagination captured and 
 enthralled until she did not feel the wind, nor see the 
 shadows chase and fly. Into the tales she plunged as 
 might one into some deep, limpid pool, and rose invig 
 orated with the cold, pure refreshment of the " ethereal 
 water." 
 
 But she did not always read. There were hours when 
 she wandered up the slopes of the hillsides and into the 
 depths of pine gloom, when she stood on the edge of 
 steeps which fell away so sharply and abysmally that 
 the eye plunged happily through the dense bracken 
 and the brown and purple trunks of the giant pines 
 into the deeps of deer-haunted shadow. Again she 
 would wander to some more level spot, where the pines 
 grew low and spreading, their branches twisted and dis- 
 
 166
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 torted into strange and grotesque shapes by the mighty 
 mountain winds ; but if bent and stunted, they were 
 strong. They had prevailed, and stood but the more 
 deeply rooted in the soil, ever sending out new but 
 tresses against the rushing legions of the enemy. Their 
 flat, mossy tops they spread in air, black, green, blue, 
 russet, silver, in the sea of sunlight they floated on ; 
 but beneath the branches brooded the peace won through 
 resistance, and in the long aisles was the dim, mysterious 
 light of the pine woods, sunlight falling through close- 
 meshed nets of green. 
 
 It was always very still there; the foot sank noise 
 lessly into the faded brown carpet of last year's needles, 
 and there was fragrance, austere, balsamic and music. 
 
 About the high, white peaks the winds roar and 
 scream, or wail and mourn down the gulches, or whisper 
 and murmur among the aspens and maples; but in the 
 pine forests it sings the songs of the sea ; sometimes the 
 rippling melody of the surf washing softly against 
 the shore, and again the organ roll of the solemn, ma 
 jestic ocean surges; but always the sea music. 
 
 Ah, there is magic in the pine forests ! One hears un 
 translatable harmonies ; one sees strange subtleties of 
 colour, and the fragrance is the complement of both. 
 Frances loved the pine glooms. She would sometimes 
 spend hours within the shadowy aisles, an ascetic, black- 
 robed figure, with pale, uplifted face, drawn back, it 
 would seem, by the weight of hair ; but there was noth 
 ing ascetic in her glowing eyes and smiling mouth as 
 she listened to the sea-music the wind sang to the pines, 
 
 167
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 and inhaled the pine fragrance with a rapture which 
 no flower scents could give her; until the grey, shack 
 ling chrysalis of her past life would fall from her and 
 she would feel the soar and lift of wings, while from 
 some depth of being there welled the thrilling impulse 
 of joy. 
 
 And daily the world as she had known it in her busy, 
 practical life a sordid, cruel, and ugly fact became 
 to her as fugitive and unsubstantial as a smoke wreath. 
 Its boundaries, once so fixed and solid, melted into new 
 and bewildering vistas. She awakened each morning to 
 golden mirages pictured on rainbow horizons. What 
 wonder that her face changed, her smile and her eyes 
 deepened, until Zenith speculated freely upon probable 
 causes. She had a beautiful secret singing in her heart ; 
 a secret with an inner meaning still unsuspected by 
 herself. She thought it whispered to her of new worlds, 
 fair, shining worlds of light and beauty, to which she, 
 a shabby, plain, uneducated little Missionary, had dis 
 covered the open sesame. 
 
 Garvin, too, held the key. Of that she was sure. 
 Had not his face shone and his eyes brightened when 
 ever he spoke to her of books and of nature? It was a 
 secret they two held together. 
 
 At last she knew a deep, personal happiness, never 
 dreaming that the causes to which she attributed it 
 were inadequate. But for her, old things were forever 
 passed away and all things were made new. Her nights 
 were white, her days were gold. New streams of life and 
 joy flowed to her from illimitable sources, washing away 
 
 168
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 old conceptions and revealing to her fresh and shim 
 mering dawns of wonder. 
 
 We treat birth and death as vast, far-off events ; one 
 the beginning, the other the close of all earthly expe 
 riences ; but in reality they are daily and hourly epi 
 sodes in consciousness tending to one end life. To 
 stagnate is to perish ; to stretch out welcoming hands to 
 to-morrow with whatever it may bring is to continue to 
 exist. " Ye must be born again ! " is the fiat of life ; 
 but equally so is St. Paul's triumphant psean : " I die 
 daily." 
 
 169
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 /\UGUST was passing, and as her hours drew to a 
 close she began to spin rainbow veils of illusion all of 
 sun-films and purple hazes. White puffs of seeds floated 
 over the grasses and through the air, and the spiders, 
 eternal spinners, spilled broadcast their silken, silver 
 skeins. 
 
 Frances would often stand at her doorway in the 
 morning and watch those floating webs sagging with 
 the diamond sparkle of dewdrops. The snow had melted 
 from all save the highest peaks, the earth was warmed 
 to her heart and lay basking in sun-flooded content, 
 sending up toward the sky the incense of her myriad 
 and delicate fragrances ; and because of the happiness 
 in her own heart, Frances grew to know the earth as 
 a mother. She could feel about her the maternal, en 
 folding arms, and was privileged to listen to what only 
 a few ever hear, the song of the globe as it rolls in its 
 orbit a song of joy the eternal joy that lies at the 
 heart of the universe; and in the dim woods of purple 
 shadow, in the arrowy rush of the mountain streams, 
 she caught continual echoes of the insistent whisper: 
 " You are the daughter of my bounteous and teeming 
 life; for you I have spread my broad, clear, happy 
 spaces, for you is the healing silence of my forests, for 
 you I spin my iridescent glories of light and colour. 
 
 170
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 Then live ; it is thus that you express your being which 
 is mine. Live! That is Life's eternal, irrefutable man 
 date." 
 
 And Frances listened, dwelling in her world of 
 dreams. She had had no word from Garvin, and yet she 
 knew, through the subtle avenues of intuition and 
 sympathy, that she was in his thoughts as he was 
 in hers. 
 
 In her frequent visits to his library she was often 
 accompanied by Herries, who had long been one of the 
 pensioners of Garvin's intellectual bounty, and although 
 their literary tastes were antipathetic, he and Frances 
 browsed amiably enough over the books, in spite of his 
 somewhat irritating fashion of pulling one volume after 
 another from the shelves, turning over the pages, read 
 ing a few words here and there, and calling out in 
 stentorian bitterness : " Lies ! Lies ! " 
 
 One morning when the Missionary and himself had 
 started for the Pierian spring on the flats, the old man's 
 arms full of books which he and she were returning to 
 their proper places on the shelves, Frances paused a 
 moment to speak to Mrs. O'Brien, who was industri 
 ously weeding in the little garden before her trim, toy- 
 like house, carefully removing every intruding, way 
 side plant which had crept among her scarlet geraniums 
 and yellow zinnias flaring crudely in the morning sun 
 shine. 
 
 " Don't you find it warm, Mrs. O'Brien, weeding 
 without a hat ? " called Frances. 
 
 " No-o." The dancer rose slowly to her feet and 
 171
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 came toward them with her languid and inimitable 
 grace. " No, I like the heat. Was you ever down in 
 the desert, Missioner? " she asked, with apparent irrel 
 evance, leaning her elbows on the bars of the gate and 
 sinking her chin in the palms of her hands. 
 
 The mountains afforded a blue and green back 
 ground, serene, remote, in the sun-flooded atmosphere; 
 but in all this harmony of nature, the Black Pearl, in 
 her dull blue dress, standing among the scentless red 
 and yellow flowers of her garden, was a startling and 
 nerve-thrilling discord. 
 
 " The desert ! " repeated Frances in a surprised tone. 
 " Why, yes ; I lived there for a while." 
 
 " An* me," drawled Mrs. O'Brien in her soft, lazy 
 voice. " I don't like the mountains. I always feel like 
 they was goin' to fall on me an' smother me. An' you 
 get to the top of 'em where you think you can breathe 
 an' there's ranges an' ranges beyond. I want places 
 where they ain't nothin' to shut you in." rebelliously ; 
 " where you can feel free." 
 
 Frances gazed at her with puzzled eyes; but the 
 Pearl's wistful, resentful glance was far beyond her. 
 " Perhaps the rare air doesn't agree with you," sug 
 gested the Missionary. 
 
 " Oh, I'm well enough. I'm always well. I guess may 
 be I'm pinin' for a little excitement," she smiled her 
 crooked, fascinating smile at Herries. 
 
 " Then you need look no further." His cold blue 
 eyes held the Pearl's veiled gaze for a moment, and 
 then it wandered to the hills she loathed. He leaned 
 
 172
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 against the paling fence watching her, a figure of 
 distinction even in his clean, shrunken, patched clothes 
 and heavy boots. Over his flannel shirt flowed his white 
 beard, and his strong profile was outlined against the 
 gold light of the morning a profile hawk-like, cruel 
 and fine, with the long droop of the lids at the corners 
 over the keen eyes, the sharp aquiline curve of the 
 nose, the bitter, ironic lines of the mouth. 
 
 " Excitement ! " he exclaimed. " You might travel 
 the world over and you wouldn't find as much excite 
 ment in the whole journey as you can get any day in 
 Zenith. Why, Mrs. O'Brien, this camp fairly tingles 
 with excitement. There is the true neighbourly spirit 
 here. They know not only what is going on in your 
 house, but in your soul." He laughed his single, harsh 
 croak. " Here's the raspberry social coming on. It may 
 seem only a dance and a supper to you ; but to us that 
 have got any sporting blood in us, it's the last of a 
 match game, where Myrtle Swanstrom and Mrs. Evans 
 are to play off their finals. Out in the world, beyond 
 those blue mountains, they have their whist and chess 
 tournaments and play for some tuppenny stake or other ; 
 but in Zejiith the stakes are hearts and lives. If it ain't 
 exciting watching that kind of a game, what is? And 
 it will be exciting all right. Frank McGuire has stated 
 publicly that he'll have his answer that night." 
 
 " I didn't think of it so until you put me wise," 
 the Pearl smiled cynically and understandingly. " I 
 been used to seein' the game played that way my 
 self." 
 
 173
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 The conversation seemed to Frances to have, in some 
 way, slipped beyond her. She looked from Mrs. 
 O'Brien to Herries with a slightly bewildered expres 
 sion, and the Black Pearl, seeing it, with the faintest 
 of shrugs and the smallest of expressive glances, the 
 mere flutter of an eyelid toward Herries, changed the 
 subject. 
 
 " How are you getting along without Angel, Mr. 
 Herries ? " 
 
 " I'm too busy looking after her infernal pets to 
 miss her much. Here's where her damnable coon-cat, 
 appropriately called Lambie, scratched me yesterday." 
 He held up a torn finger. " And if I hadn't had on my 
 high boots ' White Puppy,' as vicious a bull as ever 
 barked, would have taken a piece out of my leg this 
 morning. Her parrot and her squirrels do their best to 
 nip me, too. Her last words were : * Be taref ul how 
 you handle r em, Herries, 'ay's full of ginger.' " The 
 old man's face shone with pride. " She said she was 
 going to bring a monkey back with her, and she will, 
 too, if she stays in the same mind. It wouldn't surprise 
 me if she brought a lion-cub, and she'd tame it, mind 
 you; she'd tame it." 
 
 " Ain't she the queer one, though ? " commented the 
 
 Pearl. " She certainly " She broke off suddenly 
 
 and peered up the road. " Why, here come Ethel and 
 Mr. Campbell. Ethel, she's a-tryin' to save my soul, 
 now that Mis' Garvin's passed beyond her experiments." 
 She laughed mockingly, and Frances failed to repress 
 a slight start. Mrs. O'Brien fortunately laughed rarely, 
 
 174
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 but when she did, it was apt to jar on the nerves of her 
 hearers, provided they were at all sensitive. It was low 
 laughter, but coarse and curiously unmodulated. 
 
 Down the road, a faint cloud of dust rising about 
 them, came the Salvation Army girl and old Andrew 
 Campbell ; Ethel, slim and swaying in her straight blue 
 gown, her bonnet swung from her arm by the strings, 
 and the sun turning the pale gold of her hair to shining 
 silver strands. 
 
 As for Mr. Campbell, who stepped out firmly by her 
 side, holding a staff taller than himself, he seemed to 
 have undergone some vital and transforming change. 
 He wore his Sunday suit of shiny, black broadcloth, 
 and over his gleaming white shirt flowed a black silk 
 necktie, this last a most unaccustomed concession to the 
 conventionalities. The tangled mass of hair which usu 
 ally hung about his head and face in wild disorder was 
 combed and brushed into a semblance of beard and 
 whisker. The look of blank dreaming had passed from 
 his eyes, and, as Frances immediately noted, they wore, 
 for the first time, according to her observation, an ex 
 pression of limpid tranquillity. 
 
 " We're a-goin' to Mount Tabor," called out Ethel 
 to the little group at the gate before she reached them, 
 breathless with the importance of her tidings. " Mr. 
 Campbell's goin' to address a meetin' this afternoon, 
 an' maybe to-night. Yes, he is," as if meeting doubt of 
 her statement. " They've been a-wantin' him for a good 
 long time, but though I been a-coaxin' him day in an* 
 day out, I couldn't get him to say he'd go." 
 
 175
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " How could I when my lips were sealed ? " asked 
 Campbell. " There was naught to say." 
 
 " But it's all right now," returned Ethel, in quick 
 and happy assurance. " The Word came to you in the 
 night. Goodness ! " turning to the others, " I don't want 
 to live through another such week as this last one. Me 
 just wild for him to accept this invitation and the folks 
 over there to Mount Tabor wonderin' why we was actin' 
 so queer an' kind of holdin 5 off: an' I couldn't tell 'em, 
 'cause they'd never understand in a thousand years." 
 
 " Then the Word came, the swift, dividing sword of 
 the Word," Campbell's sonorous voice pealed out like 
 a chant of exultation. The strange change that this 
 coming of the Word, as he called it, always brought, 
 was now especially manifest in him. He was a new 
 creature, erect, alert, informed with initiative and 
 decision. 
 
 He spoke with such triumphant assurance, such poign 
 ant conviction, that for a brief moment, to Frances at 
 least, the tongues of fire seemed almost to glow in his 
 eyes and to flicker about his head. There was victory in 
 his glance, and the mystic and dreamer in the Mission 
 ary saw in one quickly obscure moment of belief this 
 half-mad old man as one of earth's conquerors. 
 
 At his first words Ethel had lifted her hand, as if to 
 still the very breeze that swept over the mountains, 
 swayed the garish flowers of the Black Pearl's gar 
 den, stirred the grasses by the wayside, and then 
 dropped with a falling sigh into the road itself to send 
 up thin spirals and faint clouds of dust ; and now, with 
 
 176
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 her hand so upheld, she stood gazing at him with the 
 ecstatic eyes of the disciple. 
 
 Frances, too, leaned forward, the hunger for right 
 eousness on her face. She had forgotten her ivory 
 gates and her splendid worlds, with their fair courts and 
 delicate pleasances. There was something beyond these, 
 and Campbell had spoken of it. He had found it. Her 
 arms had fallen by her side, her dark, earnest gaze 
 hung on the old man as if awaiting a revelation. 
 
 The moment of silence was so full of emotion that 
 even in the clear morning sunlight, beside the Black 
 Pearl's gaudy flowers, there was not one of the little 
 group who did not feel in the light wind which lifted 
 their hair and brushed their cheeks the intangible, float 
 ing wings of awe and wonder. 
 
 " But, Ethel," Campbell gripped her by the arm and 
 planted his tall staff firmly on the ground, " we must 
 be about our business, our Father's business." The in 
 effable tenderness of his words expressed itself fitly 
 through the solemn music of his voice. The girl and 
 himself took a step forward, and then he paused and 
 looked back ; a shadow passed over his face and he sighed. 
 " A message to these," laying a detaining hand upon 
 Ethel's arm. " When the Word comes, I see far into 
 the unseen, and this world is a dim, grey shadow a 
 mist that passes." He peered into Frances's face. 
 " Roses ! Nay, a crown. The thistles sting and prickle ; 
 but they burst into queen's purple." He sighed again, 
 and dejection fell over him. Then he turned his eyes 
 upon the Black Pearl, holding her with his clear, intense 
 
 177
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 gaze. " Repent ye ! " he cried, with a shudder. " Re 
 pent ye! Now, now, lest ye be purified as by fire. Lest 
 ye? Ye will. Your heart, which is as dead as Sodom 
 and Gomorrah, will be swept by fire. Water cannot 
 cleanse it. I have given you the Word from beyond the 
 veil. Come, Ethel." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Campbell." It was almost as if she had 
 murmured " Raboni." 
 
 Without a word the three at the gate watched the 
 pair, the little old man and the tall young girl trudging 
 on through the shimmering, golden flood of the morn 
 ing. 
 
 "My Lord!" said the Pearl at last. "My Lord! 
 are they both crazy, or is it something else ? " 
 
 " I was taught many stern doctrines in my youth," 
 Herries laughed shortly, " and all I have retained is a 
 belief in original sin." He showed his long teeth. " But 
 I've got something in my blood I'm a Scotchman, and 
 what Campbell calls his mysteries are to many of us the 
 realities. We sense things the world refuses to accept; 
 but," harking back to an old cry, " crazy or not, the 
 old man saved Ethel." 
 
 " Oh, Ethel ! " cried Mrs. O'Brien contemptuously. 
 " She's just one that opens her mouth and swallows 
 everything you give her. But, my Lord ! " in a burst 
 of passionate impatience, " who wouldn't be half 
 cracked if they could get a look on their faces like they 
 had! Oh, if you could only feel dead sure of things 
 like they do, what's the difference whether you're be- 
 lievin' lies or truth if you could only believe 'em? 
 
 178
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 Why, Missioner," to Frances, " the Padre down in the 
 desert, he was a good, kind old soul, an' he used to hand 
 me out a line of talk about repentin' an' believin' an' 
 all that, an' I tried to, honest, I did ; but 'twas no good 
 all lies. Yet," with a sort of wild wistfulness, " I 
 often think if a person could just be free really 
 free 
 
 "Free!" cried Herries scornfully. "Who's free? 
 We're all slaves of other people or ourselves ; and if we 
 ever do succeed in getting our heads out of one noose, 
 we run and stick 'em into another. Isn't it so, Mis 
 sioner? " 
 
 But Frances, as if acting upon a sudden impulse, 
 had started forward that she might overtake Ethel and 
 Campbell, and then had paused, irresolutely. Herries 
 and the Black Pearl were forgotten, even the books on 
 Garvin's shelves ; for the spirit of her, the soul of the 
 dreamer and mystic, stirred and yearned. 
 
 179
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 1 HE day of the momentous and eagerly anticipated 
 raspberry festival had finally arrived, -and Zenith, as 
 one man, made joyous preparation to see Myrtle and 
 Mrs. Evans play off their finals, although outwardly 
 professing merely a pious desire to show approval of 
 the zeal of the Aid Society, under whose competent 
 management the festival was to be given, the proceeds 
 of the dancing and refreshment privileges to go for 
 a new melodeon to be purchased for the church. 
 
 Just as the afternoon sun was sinking behind the 
 peaks, Mrs. Nitschkan, who was on the entertainment 
 committee for the evening, and who, if indications 
 counted for anything, would, as usual, be late, hast 
 ened up Sunshine Avenue toward her home, fishing rod 
 in hand and a basket of brook trout over her arm. As 
 she passed the O'Brien home she paused to speak to the 
 Black Pearl, who stood in her own doorway. 
 
 "Hello, Pearl!" called the hardy gipsy jovially. 
 " How would you like a mess of brook trout ? " 
 
 " First rate," responded the Pearl heartily. " You're 
 all right, Nitschkan, even if you are crazy enough 
 to live up in these old mountains the desert's the 
 place." 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan shook her head. " The mountains for 
 mine," she said emphatically. " Look at the fishin' an' 
 
 180
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 the huntin'; nice cool streams to wade in an' fish; nice 
 cool woods to hunt in, an' you never know when you're 
 a-comin' around a corner an' meet a bear or a deer. It's 
 
 sure the woods fer mine. I " She stopped and 
 
 peered curiously into the other woman's face. 
 
 " What's that mark on your forehead, Pearl ? You 
 must have got an awful whack some way." 
 
 The Pearl turned her vague gaze from the distant 
 peaks, with the last red glow of the sun on their shining 
 summits, and became suddenly alive to the mundane. 
 " Oh, that ! " She ran her fingers across her brow and 
 laughed. Her slightly crooked mouth broke into dim 
 ples and there was a cool deviltry in the sidelong 
 glance she threw at the gipsy. " Why, Shock give me 
 that three or four days ago. I can't go to the festival 
 to-night unless I can get it powdered up good enough 
 to cover it." 
 
 The mountain woman surveyed her a moment in tol 
 erant, dispassionate curiosity. " Why can't you leave 
 the boys alone, Pearl? " she asked finally. " They 
 ain't none of 'em here nor anywheres else that's worth 
 standin' a lickin' for." 
 
 " You bet," agreed Mrs. O'Brien indifferently, but 
 with perfect acquiescence. " But, say, Nitschkan, I 
 wasn't doin' a thing just standin' at the gate, talkin' 
 to a a fellow when Shock come down the road. 
 Well, I wisht you'd 'a' seen him ! " the reminiscent co 
 quetry of her smile brightening her weary eyes. " That 
 French-Irish face of his'n was blacker 'n a thunder 
 cloud an' his eyes was a-blazin' fire. We had it hot an' 
 
 181
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 heavy about all night. Shock, you know him ; he can't 
 bear to see another man so much as look at me." 
 
 " Then what you always a-teasin' him for, Pearl ? " 
 asked Mrs. Nitschkan with indubitable reason and 
 practicality. 
 
 " I do' know," with a slight shrug of the shoulders. 
 " I always been used to the boys. They know an' I 
 know that I wouldn't look at one of 'em now; but 
 Shock, the big fool, he don't know nothin', an' Lord! 
 but he's jealous." 
 
 " Jealous ! Catsfoot ! " replied Mrs. Nitschkan with 
 sturdy scorn. " I'd like to see any man kick an' cuff 
 me about as he pleases ; that's what I'd like to see, an' 
 you always yellin' about bein' free ! " 
 
 There were tiny flickers of fire in Mrs. O'Brien's eyes. 
 The slow, heavy crimson crept up under her dark skin 
 and her thin, curving mouth became pointed and ani 
 mal. The upper lip curled slightly on either side and 
 showed two white pointed teeth like a wolf's. 
 
 " You think you're smart, don't you, Sadie Nitsch 
 kan ? " in a coarse, muffled scream ; " you think you 
 know a thing or two. Well, let me tell you, once an' fer 
 all, you don't. You think I'd stay with any man I 
 didn't want to? Why, all hell couldn't hold me. You 
 ask any of the boys down in the desert. They'd laugh 
 in your face. They know I'd knife him without count- 
 in' one, two, three. Oh, you you tramp woman ! You 
 know a lot about huntin' an' fishin' ; but you know a 
 mighty little about women. You ain't never been one." 
 
 " Now, Pearl, there ain't no occasion to spit like a 
 182
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 t 
 
 cat," returned Mrs. Nitschkan, unmoved by these 
 taunts. " An' if you give me much more sass, I'll jerk 
 you over the fence and throw you out in the road. Oh ! " 
 with a scornful laugh, " I ain't a mite af eared of that 
 knife they say you always keep down in your stockin'." 
 
 But Mrs. O'Brien's tempest of anger had fallen to 
 calm as quickly as it had flamed. Without further notice 
 of her companion, she dropped her face into the cup 
 of her hands and again gazed idly out at the rapidly 
 blurring outlines of the hills. 
 
 " Bob Flick's here," advanced Mrs. Nitschkan in a 
 casual and friendly tone, " but 'course you know. He's 
 a-stayin' at our house. He's a-goin' to deal faro bank 
 here for a while. He was a-talkin' last night to Jack 
 an' me, an' he jus' couldn't get over you bein' here this 
 away. * Lord ! ' he says, over an' over again. ' It do 
 beat everything to see the Pearl livin' up here so plain. 
 Why,' he says, ' I shouldn't wonder if she's even forgot 
 how to cross her feet her that's danced in every town 
 in the Southwest.' ' 
 
 Pearl laughed. " I guess I ain't forgot," lazily. 
 Then her whole appearance changed; the listlessness 
 vanished from her face. " Here comes Shock ! " she 
 said. 
 
 " Oh," murmured Mrs. Nitschkan with a hurried 
 glance at O'Brien, who hastened down the mountain 
 road, his dinner pail over his arm. 
 
 " Wait a minute," said the Pearl in a rapid whisper. 
 " I want to see Bob Flick. You tell him to be at the 
 raspberry social to-night." 
 
 183
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Appalled by her daring, Mrs. Nitschkan glanced 
 apprehensively at O'Brien, almost at her elbow, and then 
 hurried on ; but after a few paces, she turned, like Lot's 
 wife, to look back. 
 
 The Black Pearl, her arm through her husband's, was 
 sauntering up the narrow path which led from the gate 
 to the cottage. It was only when she walked that she 
 showed to the full, her exquisite and undulating grace. 
 
 " I jus' been waterin' the flowers, Shock, while I was 
 waitin' for you," her lazy, colourless voice was full of 
 animation. " Don't they look great? " She stooped, and 
 breaking off a scarlet geranium, thrust it into her 
 hair. 
 
 " It jus' seems like I can't get enough reds an' yel 
 lows," complained Mrs. O'Brien. " But I tell you what, 
 Shock, this garden rests my eyes a whole lot after look- 
 in' out at those old mountains with snow on their tops. 
 Ugh ! " she shivered. 
 
 Jacques laughed. " What else you been doin', Pearl, 
 besides waterin' the garden ? " 
 
 " I finished my dress to wear to the raspberry social 
 to-night." She stepped back from him that he might 
 the better observe her handiwork. She had fashioned 
 some cheap, pink material so that it fell as soft as 
 crepe into wonderful long lines about her slender height. 
 " Do you like it, Shock ? " She tilted her head sideways 
 and looked at him with her crooked, heart-shattering 
 smile. 
 
 " Yes." He caught her hand and drew her toward 
 him. " Air you glad to see me, Pearl? " 
 
 184
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 " Air I glad to see you ? Air I glad to see you ? No. 
 Understand once an' fer all, No." 
 
 They laughed, and he pulled her sunburned head to 
 his breast and kissed the faint purple bruise on her 
 brow. 
 
 " Crazy ! " She still laughed and dragged at his hand. 
 " Come on in and eat your supper." 
 
 " Crazy's the word," philosophised Mrs. Nitschkan, 
 shaking her head as she walked on. " Seems to me the 
 Pearl's possessed. She sure acts like she's wild about 
 Shock, an' yet, she's sendin' word to Bob Flick to meet 
 her this evenin' at the festival. That's what comes of 
 bein' a hussy. But Lord ! I got to hurry, for I wouldn't 
 miss that social to-night for all that's goin'." 
 
 She but voiced the universal sentiment of the village. 
 Already " supper things " were being hastily cleared 
 away, and blinds were drawn that no delay might be 
 caused by the ceremony of dressing. 
 
 With that sixth sense common in isolated communi 
 ties, where the interest in the drama before one's eyes is 
 intense and absorbing, because at any moment the spec 
 tator may be called from the seclusion of the audience 
 to take his place among the actors before the footlights, 
 the participators in the raspberry festival were all in 
 tuitively aware that the immanent, psychological mo 
 ment was at hand. There was no question of mistake 
 or of postponement. The hour had struck. 
 
 Frances felt it and was vaguely troubled and per 
 plexed. She realised with a feeling of depression that, 
 so far as one might judge, the seed she had sown had 
 
 185
 
 fallen among the rocks, for Myrtle was more audacious 
 than ever in her skirmishes with the enemy. The subtle 
 intimation communicated itself to Mrs. Evans and " her 
 click," and for once, that close and assured corporation 
 was slightly irresolute. 
 
 " I know," muttered Mrs. Evans, as she and Mrs. 
 Thomas wended their way toward the Town Hall, the 
 scene of the festivity, " that this '11 be the last time I 
 wear myself to skin an' bone to get any girl married. 
 I ask you, Mis' Thomas, if Susie Hazen has ever said 
 more than * Yes, sir,' and ' No, sir,' to Preacher, an' if 
 she ain't et like a wolf at every tea party we've give 
 'em? Now you know as well as I do, that no girl 's goin' 
 to get house an' home, husband an' children, actin' that 
 way. I will say for Myrtle that she certainly is enter- 
 prisin'." 
 
 " How true it is," said Mrs. Thomas, " that God helps 
 those that helps theirselves. Well, here we are at the 
 door." 
 
 The Town Hall was alight with a dozen lamps in 
 brackets on the walls ; the main part of the floor had 
 been cleared for dancing, and polished until it shone; 
 while at the lower end were placed long tables where 
 raspberries and ice cream were served by the members 
 of the Aid Society. 
 
 Interest was naturally centred in Myrtle and the 
 " lunger preacher," as it was understood that Frank 
 McGuire could not get down from the mine until after 
 nine o'clock. Carrothers, placid and even gay in a bleat 
 ing and lamb-like manner, was probably the only person 
 
 186
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 present who was not enjoying the tense expectancy of 
 a dramatic denouement. He, one of the chief actors 
 before the curtain, was in the paradoxical position 
 of not knowing that he had assumed a leading 
 role. 
 
 Curiosity was somewhat deflected by the appearance 
 of the Black Pearl, who was presumably successful in 
 powdering her bruise; but who arrived rather late, and 
 greatly disappointed Zenith by refusing all invitations 
 to dance. Bob Flick, too,' had sauntered in a few mo 
 ments afterwards, so if the principal performance in 
 the large tent was somewhat delayed, there were not 
 lacking side shows to keep up the interest of the 
 spectators. 
 
 Flick was a tall, slow-moving fellow, with the pale im 
 passive face of the professional gambler. There were 
 tense lines about his mouth, and the deep crows' feet 
 about his eyes betokened that he had long lived in the 
 lands of vivid sunlight. For a few moments he stood 
 leaning against the door, exchanging a curt word now 
 and again with an acquaintance ; but for the most part 
 gazing with cold, narrowed eyes at Mrs. O'Brien, who 
 sat, lazy and indifferent, with a faint smile on her 
 scornful mouth, while about her chair eddied a boister 
 ous court, which, however it might vary as to individ 
 uals, never diminished in size. 
 
 As far as one might judge, she made no especial effort 
 to attract, when she spoke at all it was in monosyllables, 
 though occasionally she interjected a brief word into 
 the general conversation ; but in the main she sat silent, 
 
 187
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 listless ; inherently, perhaps unconsciously, man-compell 
 ing. 
 
 It was not, however, until Flick finally moved across 
 the room and took his stand doggedly and immovably 
 beside her chair, that she showed any signs of anima 
 tion, although she still persisted in refusing his, as well 
 as all other invitations to dance. 
 
 " No, I don't want to dance," her soft, sliding voice 
 held the note of decision. " Come on, Bob, sit down here 
 beside me an' tell me the news. How's Jim Hurd ; an* 
 was it true he got shot over the cards? An* Frank 
 Applewaite? Did he, honest, run off with a Greaser girl, 
 like one of the boys told me? Oh, I'm hungry for the 
 news. Have they," with a wistful coquetry " have 
 they plumb forgot me yet, Bob ? " 
 
 " I should say not," with emphasis. " But it does 
 seem funny to see you like this, Pearl, with jus' that 
 plain, gold ring on your finger. Why, I was a-talkin' 
 to a jeweller down in Tucson the other day an' he says: 
 * I wonder if I could get the Black Pearl's necklace? 
 She's got the finest matched string of emeralds I ever 
 see.' " 
 
 " Well, he'll never get 'em," with smiling, indifferent 
 finality. 
 
 "What did you do with 'em, Pearl?" asked Flick, 
 curiously. " Sell 'em ? " 
 
 "Sell 'em? No. I give 'em to Father Gonzales, the 
 night before he married Shock an' me. I guess he's 
 hung 'em around the neck of the Virgin, or maybe he's 
 keepin' the poor in luxury on 'em yet. Lord ! Can't you 
 
 188
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 hear those old Mission bells, kind o' cracked and sweet 
 an' Tar away? They always sounded like Time and Eter 
 nity to me. Oh, Bob, there ain't nothin' like the desert, is 
 there? I can't get used to havin' the mountains so close. 
 I feel all the time like they was a-crowdin' an' a-pushin' 
 me. I want to be where I can breathe." 
 
 The gambler laughed outright. " Well, you ain't so 
 changed, after all," he said, and some new almost exul 
 tant note rang in his voice. " Same old cry. Jim Hurd 
 was a-speakin' to me, only a little while back, of the 
 old days, an' he says : ' Can't you see the Pearl a fling- 
 in' up her arms an' sayin' : " I want to be free " ? I 
 wonder what ailed that girl ? ' he said. ' She was always 
 a-goin' on about wantin' to be free. Why how,' he says, 
 * could anyone be freer 'an her? When she got tired of 
 one place, she was off to the next. Her pockets was al 
 ways full of money, an' her fingers blazin' with coloured 
 stones. If that ain't bein' free,' he said, ' I'd like to 
 know what is.' ' 
 
 " Those rings wasn't half so pretty nor so bright as 
 the beetles that crawled out in the sand when you turned 
 over a stone." The veil of moodiness had again fallen 
 over her eyes. 
 
 " I kin just smell trouble in the air," sighed Mrs. 
 Thomas at the farther end of the hall, pausing in her 
 occupation of serving raspberries into small saucers, 
 with a very large iron spoon. " Myrtle cavortin', an' 
 the Pearl carryin' on with Bob Flick! You see if they 
 ain't some shots passed before we get home. An' ain't 
 it a high note for the Pearl not to dance. That's always 
 
 189
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 the way with them perfessionals ; they're so contrary 
 that they take pleasure in puttin' their lights under 
 bushels just to spite folks. My! " as Myrtle floated by 
 her, " ain't that girl wild to-night ! Well," sighing 
 heavily, " she'll be gnashin' her teeth before mornin'. 
 That's sure." 
 
 In truth, Myrtle was dancing indefatigably, the gay 
 est of the gay, when Frances laid a detaining hand on 
 her arm. " Myrtle," she begged, " put a stop to all this 
 nonsense and talk to-night. Decide one way or another ; 
 Frank will soon be here now." 
 
 Myrtle's soft little face had grown hard, and her eyes 
 glittered. There was a worried line or so about her 
 mouth. " I can't help it," she cried. " I can't stand it 
 to have Mis' Evans crowin' over me to the end of my 
 days, an' sayin' I took Frank 'cause I couldn't get 
 Preacher. Look at her now, grinnin' 'cause Preacher 
 an Susie's talkin' together. She's a-drivin' me to it, 
 Missioner. She's a-drivin' me sure to take him." 
 
 " But you told me he did not care for you," ex 
 claimed Frances, in a tone at once impatient and 
 bewildered. 
 
 " They ain't none of them so hard to get," said the 
 girl with moody scorn. " I ain't fished for trout all my 
 life in these mountains an' not know how to ketch a 
 man." 
 
 A partner claimed her, and she danced away, her 
 white dress fluttering through the moving figures about 
 the hall. When she came to a stop at last, it was in the 
 centre of a laughing, gasping group. 
 
 190
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 But suddenly their laughter, which had been ring 
 ing 1 to the ceiling, faltered and died, silenced by a 
 whisper which had run like lightning through the room. 
 There was a moment's commotion. Men consulted 
 briefly and started toward the door, while women hastily 
 gathered up babies. 
 
 " What is it? " asked Frances of a man who passed 
 her. 
 
 " Something wrong at The Gold Dirt. Three of the 
 boys ain't come down." 
 
 Myrtle clutched her arm. " Frank ! " she gasped. 
 " He's workin' in The Gold Dirt, an' if it wasn't him, 
 he'd been here before. Come on ! " And pulling the Mis 
 sionary strongly by the hand, she ran with her down the 
 steps leading to the road. 
 
 Undisturbed by the confusion about her, Mrs. Evans 
 stood by the deserted tables, calmly issuing orders. 
 " You fetch all the ground coffee, Nitschkan. We'll 
 need it up there. I'll take a basket of cups, an' you 
 carry the pots, Mis' Thomas. Mis' Landvetter, gather 
 up all the shawls that's left, an' don't forget to bring 
 the matches. Let the kids stay here an' eat up the cream 
 an' berries, no use wastin' 'em. Now you all ready? 
 Then we'll start." 
 
 The wagon road up the mountain was black with 
 people. Men with picks and lanterns in their hands, and 
 women whose faces showed white under the shawls they 
 had hastily thrown over their heads. 
 
 " What is it ? " again asked Frances of a man they 
 met hurrying down the road. 
 
 191
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " An explosion in The Gold Dirt," he answered. 
 " Three of the boys was down on the fifth level to do 
 some blastin'. They signalled for the cage and the en 
 gineer sent it down; but they never signalled for it to 
 be lifted. I guess they waited too long after they 
 touched off their fuses." 
 
 " Who were they ? " cried Myrtle. 
 
 " I ain't got no time to talk," he called back over his 
 shoulder. " I'm a-goin' for a doctor." 
 
 " Oh," wailed the girl, her fingers sinking painfully 
 deep in the Missionary's arm; but after that outcry, 
 she made no further demonstration. She was a daughter 
 of the mountains and knew that no breath must be 
 wasted in lamentations. There was a long climb before 
 them. 
 
 Once the clatter of hoofs behind them caused her to 
 shiver convulsively. 
 
 " I wonder who it is ? " said Frances, as a man on 
 horseback pushed through the crowd on foot, and on 
 up the slope. 
 
 " The surgeon," replied Myrtle, in a dull, muffled 
 voice. 
 
 When at last they reached the mine, it was a weird 
 and striking scene which met their eyes, solemn, vivid, 
 almost awe-inspiring. The first arrivals with a prac 
 ticality acquired in a life spent in battling with neces 
 sity, had built great, flaring bonfires of pitchpine logs. 
 The red flames with their dense clouds of pitchy smoke 
 leaped up against a background of violet-black moun 
 tains with the snow-covered peaks, and illuminated the 
 
 192
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 bare wooden engine house and the huge, slate-coloured 
 ore dumps. 
 
 Myrtle stood on the crest of the hill, tense, waiting. 
 All her soft, peachy prettiness had vanished, showing a 
 facial outline hard and stern. As Mrs. Evans panted 
 up beside her, the girl caught that tiny woman by the 
 arms, pinioning them to her sides, and lifted her off her 
 feet. 
 
 In an instant Mrs. Nitschkan's man's coat sleeve was 
 rolled up and her bare great-muscled arm shot out its 
 clenched fist in Myrtle's face. 
 
 " Don't you hurt her, Myrtle," she warned. " If you 
 do, I'll break your jaw as sure as I'm a-standin' here." 
 
 " What do I care? " said Myrtle. " But I'll tell you 
 this; this is a judgment on me and I ain't goin' to be 
 punished alone, when there's others deserves it too. Her 
 man's one of the best miners in the camp, an' he's got to 
 go down an' bring out mine." 
 
 Mrs. Evans, completely in the power of the younger 
 and larger woman, had merely cocked her head and 
 gazed at her with cool defiance ; but now her expression 
 changed. In the world, so in Zenith. The eternal 
 feminine knows modification, but no change. There had 
 been warfare between herself and Myrtle ; but at the 
 first hint of trouble, the hatchet was buried, the minis 
 trations began. 
 
 " You bet he'll go down, Myrtle, an' in the first 
 cage. Put me down on the ground an' I'll see to it." 
 
 In the interval of waiting the women busied them 
 selves in making coffee for the miners, and the always 
 
 193
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 increasing crowd lingered breathlessly, and for the most 
 part, silently. Myrtle had thrown herself on the ground 
 and lay with her head in the Missionary's lap. Once Car- 
 rothers approached her and with a few words attempted 
 to console and hearten her; but she threw out her 
 hand with the impatient gesture of one waving away 
 a fly. 
 
 " Aw, shut up ! " she muttered. " I'd rather hear 
 Mis' Nitschkan swear." 
 
 " Gosh a'mighty, child ! " said that bluff King Hal 
 in petticoats, " you mustn't take on this way. You got 
 to get used to this. We've all seen our men brung out 
 bloody an' smashed, times without number, ain't we, Mis' 
 Evans?" 
 
 " Every bone in Sile's body's been broke in these 
 blasted mines," returned that lady laconically. "Lift 
 up your head, Myrtie, an' drink this nice hot coffee." 
 
 " Yes, take the blessed comfort of it," coaxed Mrs. 
 Thomas. " My patience ! Ain't it somethin' beautiful 
 the way we take on when accidents happen to them, an' 
 what do they do fer us in pain or grief? I've seen a 
 man sit with his feet up on the kitchen stove readin' a 
 newspaper an' never turnin' a hair, while his wife was 
 screamin' herself black in the face with the strikes in 
 the next room. Cheer up, Myrtie! They ain't no man 
 worth it." ' 
 
 "Frank is," sobbed Myrtle. "I don't care if the 
 rest is blown to pieces; one of 'em's a drunken Polack, 
 an' the other's the dead-broke son of an English lord, 
 an' it don't make no difference about them." 
 
 194
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 This exposition of an essentially feminine point of 
 view occasioned no surprise among her sympathisers. 
 
 " That's the way we all feel when it comes to our 
 man, no matter how cranky he may be ; or our kids, no 
 matter how devilish they are," murmured Mrs. Thomas, 
 who took an artistic delight in her ability to mourn thor 
 oughly and completely with those who mourn. 
 
 The slow, dragging watches of the night wore pain 
 fully away ; and at last, after hours of waiting, it was 
 announced that the miners had dug through the debris. 
 Finally, one man, the drunken Polack, was borne out 
 unconscious, injured; the surgeon worked over him. 
 Then another, " the dead-broke son of an English 
 lord " ; and at last, exhausted, almost asphyxiated, his 
 arm hanging helpless, Frank McGuire. 
 
 Like a flash, Myrtle burst through the crowd and 
 threw her arms about him before their world. The 
 smile she lifted to his dazed and doubting glance was 
 full of rapture and relief, of a thousand capitulations 
 and promises, and it fell like sunshine upon him, melting 
 the winter of his discontent. 
 
 " Myrtle," he murmured. " Myrtle, are you sure? " 
 
 " Sure ! " she cried in a burst of sobs. " I always 
 been sure ; but I was born so devilish that I never could 
 take a dare." 
 
 Dawn was just breaking over the mountains when a 
 little cavalcade wound down the hill. McGuire on a 
 dusty, grey burro, was supported by Carrothers on one 
 side, and by Myrtle on the other. They were environed 
 by Mrs. Evans, Mrs. Thomas, Mrs. Nitschkan, Mrs. 
 
 195
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Landvetter and the " Missioner," bearing shawls, coffee 
 utensils and baskets. In the reaction from the suspense 
 and anxiety of the night, these ladies had become 
 jocular, almost to hilarity, and the conversation fre 
 quently verged on that form of banter known as rude. 
 
 " Preacher and Missioner had better be gettin' ready 
 to officiate at a weddin' soon, hadn't they, Frank? " 
 called Mrs. Nitschkan jovially. 
 
 " Maybe Preacher '11 be thinkin' of a weddin' on his 
 own hook." Myrtle's glance was still inherently 
 coquettish. " Maybe that girl back in Illinois " 
 
 Carrothers flushed to the roots of his hair. " She 
 writes she thinks she'll like it here." Then he took his 
 courage in both hands : " It's it's to be at Christ 
 mas." 
 
 Of the disconcerted little group behind the burro, 
 now huddling together and gazing at each other with 
 round eyes, Mrs. Thomas alone retained her poise. 
 
 " Ain't they the critters for you ! " she exclaimed, 
 gazing admiringly at Carrothers's back. " They's two 
 games they can sure beat us at poker and love. Here 
 were Myrtle an' Mis' Evans raisin' each other to the 
 limit, an' Preacher had 'em cold decked from the start." 
 
 196
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 /vUGUST the Spinner, robed in floating, purple hazes, 
 her distaff wound with silver cobwebs, had journeyed 
 up the mountain sides to meet her sister, September, on 
 the summits September, the painter, with her crown 
 of scarlet and gold leaves and her palette set with bril 
 liant colours. 
 
 On the first day of the new queen's reign Frances 
 had gone alone to Garvin's library, and now stood in 
 the handsome, spacious, rather austere room, aimlessly 
 drawing books from the shelves, turning the pages, 
 scanning them with unseeing eyes and putting them 
 back again. For the last week she had suffered a feel 
 ing of depression, slight at first, but deepening day by 
 day, until it became an obsessing unrest and longing 
 for which she could find no name ; but which " kindled 
 by night and subdued her " until, this first day of Sep 
 tember, she felt disconsolate, almost to tears. 
 
 Ever since the day when she had started to follow 
 Ethel and old Andrew Campbell up the road, she had 
 known this reaction of feeling, and she was peculiarly 
 unable to cope with it, inasmuch as she had never been 
 a woman of moods. Her poise was the habit of years, 
 won by the choice of an occupation which imposed on 
 her a constant self-control. So long had she invited 
 others to come and lean on her that their weakness, 
 
 197
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 drawing on her strength, had so augmented her calm 
 security of self that she entirely forgot the tiger of 
 temperament chained in the deeps of her nature. But 
 now it lifted its head and stirred in sleep. 
 
 We speak always in extremes pain, pleasure; light, 
 darkness; joy, sorrow. These are stimulants and 
 goads. When pain grips us we rise to the conflict and 
 struggle to find relief. We spring to welcome joy; but 
 there is a state of feeling, or more fitly, a lack of feeling 
 where both pain and pleasure are lost from our con 
 sciousness. Perhaps without warning or premonition, 
 the dish of life is suddenly without salt or savour; the 
 vibrating light and colour of the universe is washed out 
 to one grey, colourless monotone, the dull day merges 
 into a black, stifling night without a star, without one 
 breeze of freshness. 
 
 When we suffer, we strive to find words to express 
 our anguish. " I am a companion to owls and a brother 
 to dragons " ; but the groper in the grey world mutters 
 with Job : " A land of darkness as darkness itself, and 
 of the shadow of death, without any order, and where 
 the light is as darkness." 
 
 The days of the outer world were still as gold and 
 purple as those in which Frances had rejoiced; but she 
 could no longer enter the heart of their splendour and 
 warm her hands at the inner glow. The bloom was off 
 the summer ; no longer the maternal arms of her mother, 
 Earth, enfolded her. In her effort to throw off this 
 deadening apathy, she would read and reread the books 
 she had loved; but they were without meaning; or she 
 
 198
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 would walk miles in her futile attempts to recapture the 
 mood of yesterday, to feel again her nearness to Nature 
 and rid her c elf of this body of death the sense of isola 
 tion from all natural sights and sounds. 
 
 But even in the pine forests, those leagues of scented 
 gloom, where whispers and intimations of unfathomable 
 mysteries had reached her, she knew no mitigation of 
 her weary ennui. Sometimes the wind in the pine tops 
 was like the distant booming of cathedral bells, and 
 again like the solemn surges of the sea ; but it could not 
 call back her spirit from the wastes of desolation. She 
 was numb almost to deadness. 
 
 It was in this mood that she stood in the library, idly 
 fingering the books, and remaining entirely uninterested 
 in their contents. There is repose and serenity in the 
 very atmosphere of a library ; but Frances was too half 
 hearted and recent a student to accept that balm, that 
 divine solace with which great books heal their lovers. 
 A feeling of profound loneliness swept over her. What 
 was the matter? she asked herself. Why, why, had this 
 wonderful revelation come to her in these mountains, 
 this lifting of the veil which showed to her eager vision 
 her new worlds and worlds? And then, just as she had 
 begun to live in their courts and palaces, the curtain 
 had fallen and she was thrust into the isolation of the 
 " world without any order." 
 
 A wave of self-pity foreign to her nature broke over 
 her, and the unusual tears smarted in her eyes. She 
 dropped her face in her hands and then lifted it quickly 
 as the handle of the door turned, the curtain was thrust 
 
 199
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 aside and Garvin stood on the threshold. Frances's 
 heart gave one quick throb, and although she stood per 
 fectly still, she began to tremble violently from head to 
 foot, gazing straight at him with wide, doubting eyes, 
 in the depths of which a light slowly dawned. 
 
 He remained for a moment in the doorway peering 
 into the room, and evidently accustoming his eyes to the 
 somewhat shadowy light. " Ah ! " He drew a deep 
 breath of satisfaction. " They told me you were here, 
 but I couldn't see you at first. It seems too good to be 
 true." 
 
 "I I" she faltered, "didn't expect you," still 
 gazing at him half -unbelievingly. 
 
 " Didn't you ? " He had walked down the room to 
 ward her, and now he gently and still smilingly took 
 from her the book which she had involuntarily clasped 
 against her breast ; the hands he thus released he caught 
 tightly and warmly in his. 
 
 " I'm so glad ! " he said deeply. " Missioner, do you 
 know how glad? I've dreamed of finding you here, but 
 I never thought I really would. Why, do you know, I 
 was so childishly anxious that you should be the first 
 person I should speak to, that I pretended not to see 
 the boys as I drove up from the station." 
 
 In spite of her flushing confusion, Frances could not 
 fail to notice a great change in him. He was a differ 
 ent man from the Garvin of the lagging step and the 
 perplexed eyes she had previously known. This Garvin 
 was younger; the old dejection and weariness had van 
 ished, the stoop had gone from his shoulders, the fur- 
 
 200
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 rows from his brow. The sad lines about his mouth were 
 effaced. 
 
 " I am so glad," he said, speaking again, " that you 
 have made use of my books. Have you enjoyed 
 them?" 
 
 "Enjoyed them!" He did not appear to remember 
 that he still held her hands, and now she drew them 
 away, catching at the topic he suggested, to cover her 
 embarrassment. " Your books have opened a new world 
 to me." She spoke eagerly, happily, entirely forgetful 
 of the fact that a few moments before she had been a 
 companionless wanderer in the grey world. " Suppose 
 you had suddenly found a new star, full of all the most 
 wonderful things you had ever dreamed of." 
 
 " So through my books a new planet has swum into 
 your ken ? " he murmured, plainly delighted ; but as he 
 continued to gaze at her, he quickly forgot her words. 
 There was no one in all the world like her. She was the 
 most individual creature he had ever known. He liked 
 the severe straight lines of that nun-like black gown, 
 the stiff white collar, and the white cuffs turned back 
 over the sleeves. He liked that shining blue-black hair 
 brushed smoothly back from her brow, and the great 
 plaits wound around the back of her head. He liked 
 best of all that almost ascetic reserve of expression in 
 a face which could sparkle and break and quiver and 
 grow vivid with feeling. He could fancy the glow of 
 carnation on that smooth, pale cheek there was a catch 
 at his heart at the thought. 
 
 And if she had noted a change in him, he was equally 
 201
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 quick to read an alteration in her. She seemed irradiated 
 by some soft inner happiness it dated since his coming, 
 had he but known it. There was a light in the dark 
 depths of her eyes, and her mouth showed a tremulous 
 and almost constant tendency to break into those sweet 
 and curving smiles of which he had hitherto caught but 
 rare and fleeting glimpses ; but the smiles held something 
 now of a hidden gaiety and even mischief, which 
 charmed while it continued to puzzle him. 
 
 " You really have grown rested," he said at last, with 
 a long breath of satisfaction. " I can tell that by your 
 looks." 
 
 "You, too," she responded happily. "And Angel? 
 How is she? Where is she?" 
 
 " Oh, Angel ! " he laughed heartily. " It would fill a 
 book to tell you of Angel's performances. And such a 
 company as we were. I got a nurse for her in Denver, 
 intending to send Wang and Lee back; but Angel 
 wouldn't hear of it, and really, before we got far, I 
 found that I needed them all. The moment that we 
 reached the door here, she scampered off to find Herries 
 and inquire for her beasts. I was so thankful that we 
 didn't have to travel with a whole menagerie that I 
 didn't mind our retinue of servants ; and think of it ! 
 the only additions to our household are a frightened, 
 chattering monkey and another screaming, swearing 
 parrot ! " 
 
 Frances laughed. " Mr. Herries will be delighted to 
 see her back ; he has been really lonely without her." 
 
 " There is a curious sympathy between them ; both 
 202
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 oddities," he smiled. " Well, how is everything in the 
 village ? Anybody struck a bonanza ? " 
 
 " No," she shook her head. " No one except myself, 
 and I have in these books." 
 
 This time his smile was so tender, so comprehending 
 that she flushed slightly under its caress. 
 
 " I saw Mrs. O'Brien standing in that loud garden 
 of hers looking out at the mountains as if she hated 
 them. She was standing just so when I left. Has she 
 never moved since? " 
 
 Frances welcomed this change of subject. " She does 
 hate them, I believe. She complains that they shut her 
 in. I cannot understand that. They have meant the 
 * freer step, the fuller breath, the wide horizon's 
 grander view ' to me." 
 
 " To you, yes." He spoke meditatively and looked 
 beyond her as if, for the moment, he forgot her presence. 
 " But the Pearl is different. She always was an odd, 
 capricious creature. I never understood her, and I don't 
 believe anyone else ever did. I don't believe she under 
 stands herself." He pondered this a moment. " I met 
 Dan Mayhew down in Denver, and he told me that Bob 
 Flick is here. I'm sorry. Bob's been devoted to the 
 Pearl for years, and O'Brien's an impulsive, mad sort of 
 a fellow." 
 
 He glanced down at Frances and noticed, to his sur 
 prise and slight chill, that her expression had changed. 
 It was as if she had mentally withdrawn from him. Her 
 mouth had set in rather severe lines and her brow was 
 grave. 
 
 203
 
 " I must go," she said, half turning from him and 
 drawing on her gloves. 
 
 " But why? " he strove to stay her, and then seeing 
 that her determination held, caught at another plea. 
 " You are going to take some books with you, are you 
 not? " Seeing her hesitate. " Of course you are, and 
 you are going to let me carry them for you." 
 
 " No," a little shyly. " I am sure you have a great 
 many things to look after; and I must stop a minute 
 at Mrs. Evans's." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Not this morning ; not the first morning I 
 have come back. Here, let me select some books for 
 you." He fumbled over the shelves. " You see, I want 
 to make the most of my time. I have so many things to 
 talk over with you, and after the next fortnight, I will 
 be more or less occupied for a week or so. There are 
 some Eastern and English men coming up to investigate 
 some properties here, and I have asked them to be my 
 guests." 
 
 " Ah, yes. Are there many in the party ? " 
 
 " Five or six. Brown, Edgerton, Watrous, Sourrier, 
 an Englishman, and his daughter, a beautiful crea 
 ture, Miss Evelyn Sourrier, Diana, as we called her on 
 our recent trip. She's a mighty huntress." 
 
 " Ah, yes." Frances's voice sounded strangely flat 
 and toneless in her own ears. 
 
 " I think you will like her ; I am sure of it." 
 
 She drew back a little. " I thank you ; but please 
 don't ask me to meet your guests or to take part in any 
 entertainment you may arrange for them. I couldn't. 
 
 204
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 I know nothing of social life or observances. Please, 
 please, remember that I am only a Missionary, that I 
 have been for years a slum Missionary." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " He spoke strongly ; and then seeing 
 her evident discomfort, smiled. " Nonsense ! I'm afraid 
 you've grown morbid, and no wonder, shut up in this 
 God-forsaken village with all these freaks. Come out 
 into the sunshine, Missioner Missioner," lingering 
 tenderly on the word. 
 
 With a lifting of the heart, she obeyed him, and out 
 into the glory of the golden day they stepped together. 
 The hillsides lay in smiling repose; the bloom was on 
 the earth again. Frances remembered the open sesame 
 which admitted her to the splendid worlds. Her lips 
 trembled with smiles, her voice rippled with laughter. 
 
 Garvin was full of humorous anecdote concerning 
 Angel and his recent journey, and so quickly did the 
 time fly that they seemed scarcely to have started across 
 the flats before they turned into Sunshine Avenue. 
 There, their attention was immediately and involuntarily 
 arrested by a scene of unwonted activity in Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan's front yard, which was also absorbing the interest 
 of the greater part of Zenith's feminine population, 
 who hastily leaving the stove and the washtub and all 
 that they might contain, leaned far over their front 
 gates, determined to lose no whit of the proceedings 
 before their eyes. 
 
 Before the gipsy's door and amid the tin cans and 
 broken crockery which adorned her lawn stood two 
 shaggy burros, answering respectively to the names of 
 
 205
 
 Jemmy and Jerry, and with the sad and patient stoicism 
 of their kind, allowed themselves to be laden with bur 
 dens heavy and grievous to be borne. 
 
 With a skill betokening long experience Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan herself was busily occupied in adjusting various 
 cumbersome objects upon the backs fitted to bear 
 them. 
 
 Hard upon her heels were the children, who, as she 
 arranged her camping outfit, were fetching and carry 
 ing with a zeal and alacrity which suggested that they 
 expected immediately to enjoy the rewards of service. 
 
 " Here, Captola," ordered the gipsy cheerily, " you 
 and Josh had best strap that cookstove on the off side 
 of Jerry, to balance the tent, an' you, Celia, can fetch 
 Mommie her fishin' rods an' gun. I guess I'll load 'em 
 on to Jemmy." 
 
 Gathered about the front gate, that was maintained 
 upon its hinges by a frayed bit of rope, were gathered 
 Mrs. Evans, Mrs. Thomas, and Mrs. Landvetter, and 
 if attitude and expression may be taken as indications 
 of inner emotions, these ladies were evidencing strong 
 disapproval of their friend's activities. 
 
 As Frances and Garvin drew near, Mrs. Evans lifted 
 up her voice to demand the purpose of these elaborate 
 preparations : " What does all this mean, Mis' Nitsch- 
 kan ? " she asked in sharp, rasped tones. 
 
 " Jus* what you can see," replied her friend airily, 
 arranging some blankets and provisions more securely 
 on Jerry's back. 
 
 "Sadie Nitschkan! " Mrs. Evans's voice was mag- 
 206
 
 Before the gipsy's door stood tico shaggy burros
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 isterial " we want to know somethin' an* we want to 
 know the truth. Are you goin' gipsyin' again ? " 
 
 " I sure 9*11." The answer was decisive, if indif 
 ferent. 
 
 " An' leave your husband and kids to shift for their- 
 selves an' in the care of the entire camp which means 
 us while you go traipsin' over the hills like a wild 
 woman? " Mrs. Evans's shrill tones rang a crescendo 
 of incredulous, indignant remonstrance. 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan paused a moment in her packing, to 
 stand with arms akimbo, measuring in humorous, 
 faintly sardonic contemplation, the group at the gate. 
 
 " Gosh a'mighty ! What are you gettin' so hot for, 
 Evans? Jack's up at the prospect doin' assessment 
 work for a while, an' if a lot of half -grown kids can't 
 look after their selves an' keep the roof over their heads, 
 I don't know when they're goin' to learn. You girls 
 kind o' keep an eye on 'em an' they'll be all right. Come 
 on, Bob, we might as well be movin'." 
 
 " She's a-takin' Bob, the only one that's got any idea 
 of behavin'," groaned Mrs. Thomas. " But if they get 
 sick, Mis' Nitschkan," she pleaded desperately, " an' 
 you know that all flesh is grass enough to do that now 
 an' then, why, where air we, an' where air you ? " 
 
 " How kin I tell? " answered the Amazon happily, 
 leading Jerry carefully through the gate, while her lad 
 followed her with Jemmy. " But," emphatically, " they 
 ain't goin' to get sick. These kids is tough as whip 
 cord. Here you," turning to the children with a last 
 admonition, "now you take care of things an' do right, 
 
 207
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 an' we'll bring you somethin' nice ; but if you don't, it's 
 a lickin' apiece. So long, girls." 
 
 The women turned to each other with lacklustre 
 eyes and elongated faces. 
 
 " Well, we certainly got our work cut out for us," 
 sighed Mrs. Thomas, with the finality of despair, as 
 they watched their sturdy friend starting afoot and 
 light-hearted in her quest of the open road, leading one 
 reluctant burro herself, while her equally sturdy boy 
 tugged at the rope of its companion, their faces set 
 toward the black, mysterious pines at the foot of the 
 shining peaks. 
 
 " What'd happen to us poor women if we'd shirk our 
 responsibilities like what she does? " cried Mrs. Thomas, 
 settling her sunbonnet with impatient hands. " An' 
 yet she gets along as good as the rest of us. I never 
 go to Denver for a day, but what I come home to find 
 my kids in bed with a ketchin' disease, or with some of 
 their legs an' arms broke." 
 
 61 I'll bet there ain't a bakin' of bread in the house," 
 snapped Mrs. Evans. 
 
 ** Nor a stick of vood in de shed," ruminated Mrs. 
 Landvetter gloomily. " Now you know how long our 
 vood piles is goin' to last." 
 
 But their annoyance was far from communicating 
 itself to the four deserted children. They danced gaily 
 about, singing with clear, shrill voices : " Mommie's 
 gone a-gipsyin' ! Mommie's gone a-gipsyin' ! " in a very 
 ecstasy of freedom. Loosed of moral band and tether, 
 they realised to the full that the world Was theirs for 
 
 208
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 purposes of experimentation; but their joy was not 
 shared by their mother's friends. On the contrary, the 
 expression of it seemed to plunge the three ladies into 
 still deeper gloom, and it was not until they had slightly 
 recovered from the blow of the gipsy's departure, and 
 were sadly turning homeward, that the significance of 
 the two figures strolling up the hill toward Frances's 
 cabin, struck them. 
 
 " My patience! " cried Mrs. Thomas excitedly. " Did 
 you see that? Walt Garvin's back, an' walkin' with 
 Missioner, the first thing ! " 
 
 Mrs. Evans gazed at her with exasperation ; her pro 
 tective instincts were always aroused where Frances was 
 concerned. " Well, she ain't a-walkin' an' talkin' to him 
 your way, Marthy Thomas. She's in a hand-to-hand 
 grapple with the devil for his soul." 
 
 " Huh ! " Mrs. Thomas scoffed unbelievingly. 
 " That's a old man-trick. If they can't get around you 
 no other way, they begin beggin' you to save their 
 souls." 
 
 " Before you take to criticism' others," returned Mrs. 
 Evans icily, " you better be lookin' to your own be 
 haviour. You ain't yet explained about Dan Mayhew." 
 
 Mrs. Thomas twisted her shoulders impatiently. " I 
 ain't made up my mind," she muttered sullenly. " They's 
 others ; an' I told you once, it's more fun bein' a widow 
 than I thought." 
 
 209
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 1 HE days that followed Garvin's return remained 
 in Frances's memory like a cloud of rainbow-hued 
 bubbles blown into an atmosphere of strained honey. 
 She was environed, encompassed, enfolded by sympathy 
 and understanding; and in addition, she had the con 
 stant intellectual stimulation of a mind infinitely more 
 comprehensive and cultivated than her own. This de 
 lightful companionship revealed not only Garvin to her, 
 but herself to herself. 
 
 No matter what the demands of his affairs, and they 
 were many, there was not a day when he and she did 
 not read or walk together. Sometimes these strolls led 
 them to the sunlit, open flats, where the butterflies 
 drifted and the wind and sun beat upon their faces ; and 
 again, they wandered in the dim seclusion of the forest. 
 One afternoon they had climbed far up to the roofs 
 of the world. Frances had never been so high. Below 
 her lay the vast, sunflooded sea of atmosphere, the 
 ranges lifting their peaks above it, as islands from the 
 sea. For a moment she felt a sense of panic, a horror 
 of the immensity before her, and almost yielded to the 
 impulse to fling herself flat upon the bare mountain side, 
 and hide from her eyes this terrifying glimpse of in 
 finity ; but this was quickly succeeded by a sweep of 
 exhilaration, an impelling desire to lift herself on her 
 
 210
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 toes and spread her arms and fly fly out into the vast 
 blueness before her. She thought of Garvin with a great 
 heart-throb of admiration. She was here on this moun 
 tain top with one of the lords of life. Her mind reverted 
 to Campbell, and his profound belief in the unseen 
 kingdom. Then she turned quickly from the thought. 
 Beside her was one of the real conquerors. Had he not 
 struggled mightily with the mountains and subdued 
 them these stern and savage mountains which brooded 
 always over their hidden treasures? Could he not go 
 into the marts of the world and buy, buy, buy, and 
 yet leave his great, golden hoard almost untouched? 
 
 So long was she silent that Garvin leaned forward to 
 interrupt her reverie ; but the wind blew the words from 
 his mouth in an opposite direction. He laughed and 
 looked at her. The same wind had blown the great coils 
 of her hair down, and tossed it about her like a storm 
 cloud. In its shadow he saw a flush rise upon her cheek, 
 that carnation, the very thought of which had made his 
 heart throb. For a moment, or an eternity, they gazed 
 into each other's eyes ; and then she caught her hair 
 and busied herself in an embarrassed and futile attempt 
 to wind it about her head; but the wind still baffled her 
 efforts, and Garvin's eyes were still upon her, so she 
 took refuge in a flight as hasty as she could make it, 
 down the hill. 
 
 Among the trees she achieved something like an ar 
 rangement of her hair and became herself again, if 
 anything, a thought more sedate and reserved than be 
 fore. Down low on the mountain the air was mild, there
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 was a soft languor in the touch of the wind on one's 
 cheek; the earth lay in a sort of dreaming brightness, 
 and the hillsides were like vast, changing mosaics of 
 colour, inwrought, overlaid, inlaid with the gold of the 
 aspens, the crimson and flame of the maples, the green 
 gloom of the pines ; and from farther purple mountains 
 rose the white peaks, sharply, coldly distinct against 
 the deep, bending blue of the sky. 
 
 There are certain temperaments so susceptible to 
 colour that it acts upon them as an intoxicant, and 
 Frances was one of these. " Oh, the glory of it ! The 
 wonder of it ! " she whispered. Then as if seeking re 
 lief from the unbearable splendour, she turned her gaze 
 down toward the village basking lazily in the afternoon 
 sun. 
 
 " I wish things looked more tidy down there." She 
 sought refuge in the commonplace. 
 
 " Yes," agreed Garvin. " By the way," diffidently, 
 " I noticed last Sunday that the church is pretty 
 shabby. Do you think they would let a sinner like me 
 have it painted? " 
 
 She clasped her hands impulsively and looked at him 
 with grateful, delighted eyes. " Oh, if you only would ! 
 You say that the church needs painting. Well, I noticed 
 that you were there last Sunday and the Sunday before, 
 and I I am glad." 
 
 He twisted his mouth into a queer little smile as he 
 looked at the sun-drenched ranges : " M m yes," he 
 said drily, " I'll always be there when you're going to 
 preach. I can't promise as much to Carrothers."
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 " Oh, I can't preach ! " She was really abashed now, 
 the colour tinged her cheek and she drew back and 
 spoke depecatingly. " I sometimes talk a little, just of 
 the things that come to me to say," she explained 
 eagerly. 
 
 " That's it ! " He turned his gaze from the moun 
 tains to look directly at her and nod emphatically: 
 " That's the reason we come to hear you, because you 
 speak from the heart. Your great, big heart," he added, 
 but it was under his breath. 
 
 " But I can't preach," still explaining. " I wouldn't 
 know how to put a real sermon together. The only way 
 I can talk at all is that somebody comes to me in trouble 
 and I get to studying how I can help them. And then I 
 pray, pray, pray for a message for them and for all 
 who suffer. Oh, Mr. Garvin ! " clasping her hands on 
 her heart, the mystical light coming into her eyes, " our 
 troubles all seem different, but really they are all the 
 same and a message for one, is a message for all. 
 And after I pray, I wait, and the message always comes, 
 and I just get up in that little, tumble-down church and 
 tell about it; but I couldn't preach to save my life. I 
 often wish I could give you a real sermon," wistfully. 
 
 He looked at her with wonder, even a curious specu 
 lative awe. " That is why we come," he said. " If you 
 gave us a real sermon, I guess none of us would be there. 
 We've heard too many of them," with a short laugh. 
 " It is you we wish to hear." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " with a deepening of the eyes, a strange 
 incredulous smile, as if she spoke from some secret con- 
 
 213
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 viction. " It isn't me ! It's the Word that's drawing 
 you." 
 
 " Maybe it is," he answered, influenced for the mo 
 ment by her belief. " Maybe," he sighed, and then 
 smiled in amused scorn of himself. " Well, well, let it go 
 at that. Then you think I'll be allowed to paint the 
 church ? " 
 
 " Indeed, yes," gratefully. " Oh, look at the shadows 
 on the hills, Mr. Garvin, you can see them move." 
 
 He nodded assent, then he smiled. " Well, I took you 
 to a high mountain this afternoon, even if I didn't show 
 you the kingdoms of the world." 
 
 " Perhaps you did." Her voice was low, her face was 
 turned away from him. She shivered slightly. 
 
 " You are cold." His tones held a tender solicitude, 
 so tender, that it frightened her. 
 
 " It is getting chilly," she cried nervously. " It is 
 growing late. I showed you the shadows on the hills, 
 long ago. Hurry, we must get home ! " 
 
 And not only were there afternoons and mornings 
 when they loitered up the trails ; but long evenings when 
 the hunter's moon swung up above the black mass of 
 the hills like a great, silver flower, and by its light 
 Frances would watch Garvin's tall figure hasten up the 
 road with eager feet. Then they would sit in her cabin, 
 the wood fire crackling in her little stove, and talk over 
 the books they were reading together; and of life, al 
 ways less of books and more of life, and finally more 
 and more of themselves and of their personal experi 
 ences, and the colour and impulse these had given to 
 
 214
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 existence. And under the steady light of Garvin's 
 sympathy and understanding, Frances opened, petal by 
 petal, in the joy of self-revelation, drawing from some 
 inner, and often unsuspected sanctuary, her inmost 
 thoughts and feelings. 
 
 But not always did they sit alone. Mr. Herries was 
 often a sardonic third, Ethel and Mr. Campbell came 
 frequently, as did Carrothers; and Mrs. Landvetter, 
 Mrs. Evans and Mrs. Thomas were wont to climb the 
 hill almost daily to discuss Mrs. Nitschkan's reprehen 
 sible conduct, and their growing irritation regarding it. 
 
 " Something's got to be done to bring Nitschkan 
 back," affirmed Mrs. Evans, with her customary 
 emphasis, one mild afternoon as the ladies sat sewing 
 in the pleasant open space before Frances's cabin. 
 " Yesterday my Rupert Hentzau come toddling home 
 with his little face all painted blue on one side, an' red 
 on the other; an' with house paint, too. He said he'd 
 been playin' Injun with them Nitschkan brats." 
 
 " It might have et into the brain," said Mrs. Thomas, 
 with the relish of one who loved to sup on horrors. 
 " Gee ! You ain't had it all, Mis' Evans. I've sewed 
 buttons up an' down them Nitschkan backs until I'm 
 dizzy. Captola come to my house yesterday without a 
 button on her ; jus' stuck as full of pins as a porcupine." 
 
 " My vood pile is 'most all gone," sighed Mrs. Land 
 vetter, " und dey haf broke two of my vindow panes. 
 Ven I catch dose devils I gif each of dem a dollar's 
 vort of vippings." 
 
 " It's weeks since she left," said Mrs. Evans dispirit- 
 215
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 edly, " an' old man Johnson seen her a day or two ago, 
 an' he says she's shot a bear an' was talkin' of pushin' 
 on still further; never said a word about comin' home. 
 She's somewhere up in the North Park now, an' there's 
 no hope of gettin' her back before the snow flies." 
 
 The women involuntarily paused in their sewing to 
 gaze out resentfully upon the September splendour of 
 the narrow plateau and its enclosing mountains. The 
 hills swam in purple hazes ; the aspens fluttered their 
 shimmering gold through the scarlet of the maples and 
 the dark green of the pines. Begrudgingly, the group 
 thought of Mrs. Nitschkan, enjoying to the full her 
 wild freedom, rising from her bed on the earth to in 
 hale great " draughts of space," alive to the tips of her 
 fingers, fooling with dangers, and embracing rough 
 discomforts for the robust love of them, instinct with 
 the gay, fresh sentiment of the road, tossing the light 
 coin of her jovial greetings to the passers-by. 
 
 It was a fleeting vision; but sufficient to arouse in 
 each feminine breast the scorn of the housed and tended 
 beast for the forager of the woods a scorn eternally 
 mingled with an unsubdued and primitive envy. 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter broke the silence with a sharp click 
 of her needles. " Veil, dere must be some vay of vork- 
 in' it to get her back," hopefully. 
 
 " Yes," agreed Mrs. Evans, who had been unwontedly 
 silent. " There's always a way out of everything, an' I 
 thought of a way out of this ; but it's got to be worked 
 cautious." 
 
 " How vould it do to send vord to her dat Jack's 
 216
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 kind o' took mit some odder girl? " advanced Mrs. Land- 
 vetter. "Hein?" 
 
 " What'd she care?" Mrs. Thomas's tone was in 
 finitely scoftiful. " She ain't like the rest of us self- 
 sacrificing, submissive women, that wins a man through 
 our weakness and dependence, an' then get ignored and 
 neglected or worse, that is, if we don't look sharp an' 
 ain't ready to hand 'em out as good as they give. Now, 
 Mis' Nitschkan, she'll tramp off gipsyin' without sayin' 
 by your leave to anybody. She'll do a day's work in the 
 mines or shoot deer to beat any of 'em, win the boys' 
 money from 'em night after night; an' what do they 
 say, ' Oh, Mis' Nitschkan, she's a good feller ! ' Where 
 as, if 'twas us, they'd say : ' Disgustin' ! ' ' Disgraceful ! ' 
 Why, even Dan Mayhew, he was holdin' forth last night 
 like a fool man loves to, an' like any other fool woman, 
 I was hangin' on his words like they was gospel." 
 
 " ' A woman's place,' he says, loud and argumenta 
 tive, ' is stayin' at home an' mindin' the house and 
 kids.' " 
 
 "'What about Mis' Nitschkan?' I asked real mild 
 an' innocent." 
 
 " ' Oh, she's different,' he answers, * an' she's all right, 
 too, you bet.' My Lord! Sometimes I think there ain't 
 no justice in the world." 
 
 " Oh, I've heard the same talk from Sile," affirmed 
 Mrs. Evans. " The other night I says : ' 'Course, Mis' 
 Nitschkan's one of my best friends, but she certainly 
 is a figure of fun in them man's clothes.' ' 
 
 " ' They suit her,' Sile answers. * An' I guess they 
 217
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 suit Jack, too,' he says real spiteful. * After he's 
 married, a man ain't hankerin' to see so much ribbon an' 
 lace fixin's when he knows he's got to pay for 'em no 
 matter how the ore's runnin'.' ' 
 
 " Ain't they the low dogs now ! " murmured Mrs. 
 Thomas. " How'd ever us poor women get even with 'em, 
 if we didn't have a skillet or a pan handy now an' then ? " 
 
 " Well, every one of our kids is gettin' demoralised 
 by those Nitschkan Injuns, an' what we got to do is to 
 get her here, an' get her to stay; an' us girls got to 
 manage it." Mrs. Evans's tone was final. 
 
 Apparently the manner in which the delicate and 
 difficult matter was to be managed was speedily decided 
 upon, and a definite plan for campaign mapped out, 
 for a few evenings later as the dusk was falling, the 
 little band of women knocked at the kitchen door of the 
 Nitschkan cabin. 
 
 " Come in," said a gruff voice, and they entered to 
 find Mr. Nitschkan, heavy and bearded, sitting alone. 
 His chair was tilted back against the rough log walls ; 
 his pipe was in his mouth and he was, to outward seem 
 ing, absorbed in meditations from which he had no 
 desire to be aroused. 
 
 A hastily cleared table, whereon a smoky lamp was 
 dimly burning, indicated that Celia and Captola had 
 swiftly disposed of the supper things after a cursory 
 method known as a lick and a promise, and, as their 
 shouts without betokened, had joined the boys. 
 
 The ladies greeted Mr. Nitschkan pleasantly; but 
 without changing his position, he viewed them with a
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 glance of apprehensive suspicion from under his lowered 
 eyelids, merely growling a responsive " How do," with 
 out removing his pipe from his mouth. 
 
 It suited his visitors, however, to ignore his lack of 
 cordiality and the unrelenting hostility of his glance. 
 
 " Well, Jack," said Mrs. Thomas, with an ingratiat 
 ing smile, " us girls got to thinkin' you'd be feelin 5 
 kind o' lonesome with Mis' Nitschkari gone so long, so 
 we thought it would be real neighbourly to look in on 
 you, without waitin' for an invitation." She laughed 
 softly at her joke, as she threw aside her cape. 
 
 " Yes," added Mrs. Evans genially. " Yes, indeed, 
 an' knowin' Celia an' Captola was young an' inexperi 
 enced, we brought a little somep'n along to help you 
 out in your lunch pail. Mis' Landvetter, jus' kindly lay 
 the things out on the table." 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter began to unpack a large basket 
 and spread the various articles it contained in a delec 
 table array, tabulating them as she proceeded. " Two 
 of Mis' Thomas's best cakes, gold und silver, und 
 chocolate. You see, Marthy remembered your taste, 
 Jack ; und a half dozen of Mis' Effens's saucer pies, all 
 kinds; und six of mem meat turn-ofers, und plummy 
 duff, und a loaf of salt risin', und a loaf of plain 
 bread." 
 
 A look of pleased anticipation dispelled the gloom of 
 Mr. Nitschkan's face. The suspicion vanished from his 
 eyes. He brought his chair to its legs with a thud, re 
 moved his pipe and cheerfully knocked out its ashes on 
 the edge of the stove. 
 
 219
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " That certain is neighbourly," he said, his glance 
 fixed appreciatively upon the varied and appetising ex 
 hibit upon the table. " I wouldn't hardly have expected 
 it of you ; " again distrust wavered in his eyes. " Here, 
 Mis' Evans, that chair might give down, take this one. 
 Celia an' Captola ain't no great shakes, I can tell you 
 that," grumblingly. 
 
 "What do you hear from Mis' Nitschkan, Jack?" 
 asked Mrs. Evans with casual interest, feeling that the 
 moment had arrived when she might open the lead to 
 which her trained lieutenants would tactfully play up. 
 
 " I don't hear nothin'," responded Mr. Nitschkan in 
 a matter-of-fact tone, feeling in his coat pocket for 
 some loose tobacco, and prodding it into the bowl of 
 his pipe with his thumb. 
 
 " My, Jack ! The backs of your hands is all split ! " 
 cried Mrs. Thomas with sudden solicitude. 
 
 " I know it ; " he looked at them ruefully ; " but I 
 couldn't find a thing in this house to rub 'em with." 
 
 " My patience ! an' me with a box of Rocky Mountain 
 salve in my pocket ! " exclaimed the tiny Mrs. Evans, 
 lifting her trim calico skirt, and drawing a tin 
 box from a huge pocket in her stuff petticoat. " Here, 
 let me rub some on. A man certain does need a woman 
 to look after him. Has Sadie sent any word when she'll 
 be back?" 
 
 " Sadie? Oh, she'll come when she gets ready," he 
 replied with philosophic indifference. 
 
 Mrs. Evans elevated her eyebrows and shook her head 
 two or three times. " Well, course we think the world an' 
 
 220
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 all of Sadie, Jack; but jus' between ourselves, this ain't 
 no way to act. This camp ain't what it was ten years 
 ago. Folks is got to act more formal every day, an* 
 when a wif$ leaves her man for months at a time an' 
 goes traipsin' over the mountains, they will talk." 
 
 Nitschkan was conscious of a dull perplexity, a 
 growing distrust of his own customary and hitherto 
 unquestioned standards. " Oh, that's all right," he 
 answered with a bluff assumption of ease. " Sadie, she's 
 kind o' different. She can't be penned up all year in 
 four walls ; she's got to get out an' get a breath of air, 
 or she'd give right out ; " he was repeating a formula 
 long impressed upon his mind. 
 
 " I do' know if it's all right," Mrs. Thomas was 
 gravely questioning. " Maybe a home-keepin' body like 
 me's all wrong; but how Sadie Nitschkan kin go off a- 
 gipsyin' leavin' you here all alone with those dev wild 
 kids to look after, is more'n I kin understand. The 
 house is goin' to wrack an' ruin; nothin' to eat 'cept'n 
 what two half-grown girls cooks f er you, an' your poor 
 hands all bust open to the bone on the backs of 'em. 
 How kin she do it? " -There was the moisture of tears in 
 Mrs. Thomas's blue eyes. 
 
 There was a moment's silence while Mr. Nitschkan, 
 holding his pipe with loose fingers, abstractedly rubbed 
 the bowl of it in the palm of his other hand. His head 
 was bent upon his chest, and his ruminative gaze was 
 fixed upon a knothole in the floor, with the resentful 
 expression of one who has suddenly discovered a 
 grievance. 
 
 221
 
 " Veil, veil, veil ! Ve didn't come here to make you feel 
 bad," cried Mrs. Landvetter cheerily, laying aside her 
 knitting. " Now it aind't sociable to sit here all de ef en- 
 ing mitout a drop of anything. Here, girls, you get 
 busy. Git dat jar of cream out of de basket, Mis' 
 Thomas, und you, Effens, you vas a master hand at 
 makin' de coffee. Now, Jack," bustling about, " vich 
 vill you haf a slice of pie or a piece of cake ? " 
 
 " Oh, give him both," exclaimed Mrs. Thomas, with 
 unctuous generosity. " Here," cutting a huge piece first 
 of the cake and then of the pie, " here, I'll put your plate 
 down, an' Mis' Evans '11 pour your coffee. Now, sit 
 right up to the table," patting his shoulder with a 
 maternal and protecting hand. 
 
 Mr. Nitschkan, with something of the sensation of the 
 Porter of Bagdad when he awoke to find himself in the 
 palace of the Princess of China, now completely threw 
 off the surly suspicion of the early evening, and al 
 lowed himself to expand in this grateful and comfort 
 ing atmosphere of feminine consideration and sympathy. 
 
 " My Lord ! It does a man good to get his teeth in 
 vittles like these," he said, when he had finished the 
 last bite of pie and sat gazing with glistening eyes at 
 the remaining half on the pie plate. 
 
 " Aw, take the rest, Jack," urged Mrs. Thomas. 
 " It'll do you good. Like enough you ain't had much 
 to stay you lately." 
 
 He took a deep draught of coffee and wiped his 
 mouth meditatively on the back of his hand. Then an 
 impulse of gallantry stirred within him, a desire to ex- 
 
 222
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 press his gratitude for the neighbourly offices of his 
 wife's friends. " I hope Evans 'predates his blessings." 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter rattled her knitting needles together 
 and drew a* deep, rasping breath which was almost a 
 groan ; Mrs. Evans tossed her head and lifted her eye 
 brows with the slight, scornful smile of the femme in- 
 comprise. 
 
 "He ain't like you, Jack," gently explained Mrs. 
 Thomas, " with a heart as big as a bushel basket an' 
 pleased to death with any little thing that's done fer 
 you." 
 
 " That's so," affirmed Mr. Nitschkan emphatically, 
 unable to withstand the heady wine of Mrs. Thomas's 
 glance. " I always was that way ready to 'preciate, 
 and well, jus' all heart; but," with a heavy sigh, 
 " when a man's wife leaves him two or three months 
 at a time with a lot of kids wild as Injuns hellin' around 
 what's he goin' to do ? " 
 
 He sat with his head in his hand, stabbing the table 
 with his knife. Not having hitherto regarded himself as 
 an injured being, he was enjoying to the full the pas 
 sion of self-pity into which his visitors' commiseration 
 had swept him. 
 
 The ladies sighed in unison. 
 
 " Now, I'll tell you, Jack," Mrs. Evans felt that the 
 moment had come for forcing him to take action. " This 
 ain't right fer Sadie, an' it ain't right fer the kids, an' 
 it ain't right fer you." 
 
 " Praise Gawd, it ain't ! " interrupted Mrs. Thomas 
 fervently. 
 
 223
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Mrs. Evans silenced her with a glance. " Now, Jack, 
 you got to see what all the rest of us sees so plain, 
 that Sadie's got to be made to come back an' they's 
 only one way to do it. Scare her good by pretendin' 
 that you're terrible mad at her, an 5 that you ain't goin' 
 to take her back at all, unless she comes home at once. 
 Now, Dan Mayhew's goin' up to the Park to-morrow ; 
 an' he'll take a letter for you if you ask him to." 
 
 Mr. Nitschkan scratched his head. " What shall I 
 say? " he murmured helplessly. 
 
 " Jus' say," continued his mentor, pursuing her ad 
 vantage, " that you'll have no more to do with her ; that 
 she shan't come in the house nor see the kids nor any 
 thing, if she don't come the minute she gets that letter. 
 Otherwise, she can spend the rest of her life gipsyin' 
 if she's a mind to." 
 
 " If this dratted weather wouldn't hold out," fretted 
 Mrs. Thomas. " Any other year, the snow would be flyin' 
 before this time; but there ain't no justice in the world, 
 even the weather's got to turn in an' accommodate Mis' 
 Nitschkan. An' when she does come," with growing 
 petulance, " she'll santer in sayin' she's had the time of 
 her life, an' it's a pity us girls hadn't her taste for 
 country life, then we wouldn't be gruntin' an' groan in' 
 all the time an' us wore to frazzles with her Injun 
 kids ! She's snapped her fingers good an' strong in your 
 face, Jack Nitschkan, an' you bet, she'll probably go off 
 for six months next year." 
 
 " Well, what kin I do ? " growled Nitschkan in shame 
 faced irritation. 
 
 224
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 " You can be a man, that's what ! " said Mrs. Evans 
 with ringing significance, " an' you can let Sadie Nitsch- 
 kan know that you're master in your own house. You 
 can make it so hot for her that she'll give up any 
 thought oT gipsyin' for some years to come." 
 
 Nitschkan fidgetted uneasily. " Might as well talk 
 sense," he muttered gruffly. " It ain't so easy to make it 
 hot fer her." 
 
 Mrs. Evans arose and throwing her cape about her 
 fastened it with impatient fingers. " Sadie Nitschkan 
 has got to be disciplined," she said firmly. " Brace up, 
 Jack, an' show some spirit an' we'll think of a way 
 to help you manage it. Come, girls ! So long, Jack ! " 
 
 " So long, girls, an' thank ye. Here, I'll see you to 
 the gate." 
 
 After gallantly assisting his visitors to pick their 
 way through broken crockery and entangling wires, 
 Mr. Nitschkan closed the gate thoughtfully behind 
 them, called the children in, and peremptorily sent them 
 to bed; and then sought diligently, and with final suc 
 cess among pots and pans for pen, ink and paper. 
 Spreading these before him on the kitchen table, he 
 sat, far into the night, with tongue in cheek and pen 
 gripped tightly in his unaccustomed fingers, composing 
 the letter which was to bring his wife to a sense of her 
 neglected duties. 
 
 " I calkilate this'll fetch her in about a week, givin' 
 Dan time to see her an' her time to get here," he said, 
 when he had finished, viewing the work of his hand and 
 brain with immense satisfaction. 
 
 225
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 1 T was undoubtedly a blessing that in the present 
 dejected and excited state of Mrs. Nitschkan's intimate 
 friends their minds were taken from the subject of their 
 grievance by the arrival of Garvin's visitors. Sleek, 
 stout capitalists were common enough they came and 
 went every few weeks ; but the presence of Miss Evelyn 
 Alexandra Sourrier caused a tremendous commotion. 
 This tall, fair, pretty girl with her classic repose, her 
 smart outdoor costumes, her faultless grooming and her 
 ease and charm of manner was something new in the ex 
 perience of Zenith. 
 
 There was a noticeable slackening in household ac 
 tivities, and a marked increase in lengthy discussions 
 held over side fences or front gates ; and the ladies 
 of Zenith found plenty to discuss. Each day there was 
 a fresh expedition from the house on the flats, and each 
 night from the open windows the sound of voices and 
 laughter and music. The piano would be touched by 
 light, skilful fingers, and a pure, sweet, soprano voice, 
 not particularly strong, but charmingly cultivated, 
 would float out to the listeners on the edge of the 
 village. 
 
 By day there would be the rattle of traps, the stamp 
 of horses' hoofs, for the English girl rode and drove 
 with equal grace and assurance. Into many of these 
 
 226
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 excursions Garvin strove at first to draw Frances ; but 
 when he saw that her real inclination was against it, 
 he desisted, and the gaiety, the action, the colour of 
 the life that was being lived on the flats flowed by 
 her like a stfeam in which she had no part. 
 
 At first Frances calmly busied herself in picking up 
 the various threads of her rather neglected duties, 
 neglected in thought if not actually in deed, happy in 
 the remembrance of the golden hours since Garvin's 
 return; but as the days dragged into a week and she 
 learned that his guests had so enjoyed their visit that 
 they had consented to prolong it for a few days at 
 least, the desolate, almost violent emptiness of her life 
 frightened her. It was as if she had suddenly been 
 plunged into some deep, almost unsuspected abyss, de 
 prived of all she valued. She had also become vaguely 
 conscious of all the furtive eyes that were so eagerly 
 bent upon her, for intuitively and unerringly she knew 
 that Zenith was spending a large part of its time won 
 dering how she " took " Garvin's constant attend 
 ance on Miss Sourrier, and speculating as to " how 
 things stood between Missioner and Walt." 
 
 It was after a night the greater part of which had 
 been spent in these reflections, that Frances awoke very 
 early one morning, awoke to count the days that Garvin 
 had spent almost constantly in the society of Evelyn 
 Sourrier. 
 
 There was a sore feeling of disappointment and 
 resentment at her heart, an emotion which she knew to 
 be unreasonable, but which remained to torment her in 
 
 227
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 spite of her efforts to overcome it. In some way, she 
 felt as if the tender, beautiful shoot of friendship 
 between Walter Garvin and herself had been cut and 
 that it bled it bled within her heart. The room was 
 still dark, although a pale, cold glimmer of dawn was 
 beginning faintly to penetrate it. Frances lay upon 
 her narrow bed gazing into the shadows, and as she 
 thus lay, with wide eyes, Garvin's face grew slowly out 
 of the gloom; that lined face, strong, sensitive, humor 
 ous, the tall figure with the slight droop to the shoul 
 ders. So, for a moment, vividly she saw him; behind 
 him the shadows, between them the growing light of 
 dawn. For a moment only he stood there smiling at her, 
 and then merely the shadows. 
 
 Frances never knew afterward whether it were a vision 
 or some trick of her imagination, overwrought from a 
 sleepless night; but in the second's space that he stood 
 smiling at her, she awoke to a definite and full self- 
 knowledge, and in that flash of revelation she saw her 
 self as a silent plant, carefully, steadily putting forth 
 its leaves, painstakingly growing a few inches, and 
 fancying, in some half-sentient fashion, that it had 
 achieved its purpose in existing; but now, through 
 every branch, and leaf, and tendril, there swept, from 
 some unfathomable, unsuspected depths of being, the 
 tingling impulse of life, the tremulous certainty that 
 the plant was to bear a blossom, an exotic and splendid 
 late flowering. Ah, it was no tender shoot of friend 
 ship that Evelyn had bruised, it was the blossom of 
 love! 
 
 228
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 This full understanding of what her emotions during 
 the past weeks had meant was to her like a blinding 
 flash of light. It was a shock so violent as to affect her 
 physically. She sat up in bed and gazed about her with 
 wild, frightened eyes. Mechanically she caught up the 
 heavy mass of hair lying along her back and twisted 
 it about her head with trembling fingers. Then letting 
 it fall again, she sprang from her couch and ran to the 
 window. 
 
 The pale light was growing, the first flush of 
 rose trembled over the high peaks, the silver pines 
 across the road swayed in the morning wind, and while 
 Frances clung to the window, the rising sun sent one 
 straight, flashing beam through the trees. Almost, she 
 heard the high command of eternal morning : " Lift up 
 your gates and sing ! " 
 
 The breeze swept down from the silver pines and 
 through her window. She drew in its imperishable fresh 
 ness in one long breath that thrilled and vivified every 
 nerve. Ah, her gates were lifted as high as heaven and 
 the very soul of her sang ! She abandoned herself to the 
 exaltation, the ecstasy of those moments of entire self- 
 knowledge. A sea of tenderness flowed from her heart, 
 and she stretched out her arms to the spot where Gar- 
 vin's figure had grown from the dusk. 
 
 She did not take up the thread of her various duties 
 that morning, and her household affairs, to which she 
 usually gave a dainty and fastidious attention, were, 
 for the first time, neglected. She sat, for the most part, 
 with folded hands, dreaming. Through knowing her 
 
 229
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 own heart, she divined Garvin's ; and in a belief of his 
 love for her she basked in the golden content of the 
 earth, basking in the autumn sun. 
 
 Her heart had at last demanded its toll. The primi 
 tive, elemental woman in her stirred in sleep, arose in 
 grave clothes, bound, and confronting her, cried: 
 
 " Starved, atrophied, I yet demand my reckoning, 
 my tithe of love, my j oy of giving ! This is my hour ! " 
 And listening to that voice, there stole over the Mis 
 sionary a distaste for her work. Life, the common 
 place, ordinary life of woman, suddenly flashed upon 
 her the jewel facets of a thousand new meanings. Her 
 splendid worlds were as dead planets; even that far, 
 transcendent country to which Mr. Campbell sometimes 
 journeyed, and for which the soul of her yearned, be 
 came dim and undesirable. 
 
 She wanted the dear world of everyday ; the warm, 
 snug fireside of content, with its homely, happy duties 
 of service. She dreamed of the soft, moist kisses of 
 children on her cheek, their vague clutching hands at 
 her bosom; of a man's arms enfolding her and of his 
 kisses on her mouth. To live in his hopes, to help build 
 his future that was a woman's only life. 
 
 During the afternoon Myrtle Swanstrom since a 
 fortnight past, Myrtle McGuire climbed the trail and 
 knocked at the cabin door. So deliciously conscious was 
 Myrtle of the importance of her new position that she 
 exhibited it by various outward and visible signs: such 
 as discarding her pink sunbonnet and wearing her Sun 
 day hat, as a sort of matronly distinction.
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 " My, but it's warm ! " she exclaimed as she seated 
 herself carefully in a rocking chair, forbearing to take 
 her accustomed seat on the step, this, too, as a conces 
 sion to matronly dignity. After due respect had been 
 paid the conventionalities, by inquiries concerning 
 Frances's welfare, she skilfully turned the conversation 
 into those channels wherein the fluid thought of Zenith 
 was at present running. 
 
 " My ! Did you ever see such goin's on as they're 
 havin' over to Walt Garvin's? Why, they say there's 
 the greatest load of provisions sent up from Denver 
 every day; fruit and vegetables an' all kinds of deli 
 cacies that ever was. An' all those horses ! Well, Walt 
 can certainly afford it. Why, Missioner, Walt's gettin' 
 richer 'n' richer every minute. They say that in a year 
 or so, when his mines is more developed, he'll be one 
 of the richest men in the whole country. Frank says he's 
 thinkin' now about goin' into politics. Well, it didn't 
 take long to forget poor Lutie, did it? Though 'course 
 nobody expects a man to mourn like a woman, it ain't 
 in 'em. Do you think the English girl's pretty? " 
 
 " Very," replied Frances briefly. 
 
 "Kind o' tall," belittled Myrtle; "but she's real 
 nice. Folks expected her to be terrible proud, but she 
 ain't; not a mite. 'Course she talks so low an' fast an' 
 kind o' foreign that you can't hardly understand her; 
 but she ain't so bad. 
 
 " Say, Missioner, Frank an' me wants you to come 
 down some evening real soon an' take supper with us. 
 I mos' got the house in order, an' it's awful cute. An',
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Missioner, Frank an' me's as happy as the day's long. 
 When I think how crazy I acted my! But then, girls 
 ain't got any sense. It takes bein' married to settle 
 'em. An', Missioner," with real affection and loyalty, 
 " I ain't forgot how you tried to keep me straight 
 an' make me see my duty. You don't know what it 
 means to the women in this camp to feel that they's 
 one woman they can come to an' kind o' talk things 
 over with. Frank an' me owes a lot of our happiness 
 to you, an' oh, Missioner," with a long sigh, " I 
 am so happy ! " 
 
 " Myrtle, I'm so glad." Frances spoke with heartfelt 
 tenderness, and eternal sisterhood expressed itself in 
 the smile that passed between them. 
 
 Myrtle suddenly leaned forward and gazed excit 
 edly through the door. " I thought that was her dress," 
 she explained. " Say, Missioner, it's the Pearl goin' up 
 the hill with Bob Flick. Ain't it awful the way she 
 traipses round with him? I don't see," with the 
 severity of the newly wed, " how married women can 
 carry on like that. Ain't they got their own hus- 
 hands?" 
 
 But both the Pearl and Bob Flick were not only 
 indifferent to gossip, but oblivious of it. Where the 
 Black Pearl beckoned, Flick walked. If there was dan 
 ger in the path they trod, he cared as little as she. 
 O'Brien was away all day at the mines. Flick dealt faro 
 bank all night; but during the afternoons he often 
 stood by Mrs. O'Brien's gate, although he never en 
 tered her house, and together they would stroll through
 
 the village street and up the trails, entirely heedless of 
 the eyes which peered curiously from every window and 
 doorway. 
 
 This afternoon, after passing the Missionary's 
 cabin, the two climbed upward for a time, following a 
 narrow trail until they reached a huge, flat rock in the 
 soft gloom of a row of encircling pine trees, whose tall, 
 dark tops pointed upward like Gothic spires in the deep 
 blue sky. Here they seated themselves, and Flick drew 
 a large handkerchief of checkered silk from his pocket 
 and slowly wiped his brow. Not being a discerning per 
 son, he had failed to notice that the Black Pearl's inter 
 est in him continued to be singularly desultory and im 
 personal. It was enough that she would meet and talk 
 with him; but it was not possible for him to suspect 
 that her conversations with him had become the gate by 
 which she could escape the high, crowding mountains 
 and wander again in the remote and shadowy wastes of 
 the desert. That her manner toward him was of un 
 changed and careless indifference, and that her light 
 coquetry was inherent and habitual, did not trouble 
 him. She had always been that way since he had known 
 her. 
 
 For a few moments they sat in silence, gazing down 
 into the valley shimmering in sun-hazes below, silent for 
 a time; the Pearl's mind busy, as usual, with the 
 mirage of her fancy. Suddenly she drew her breath in 
 sharply : " A person could breathe down there," she 
 cried. " Say, wasn't that air good? It just seemed to 
 put fresh life into you." 
 
 233
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Flick looked at her curiously. " Pearl, where was 
 you born an' raised ? " 
 
 She glanced up quickly. " Oh, I do' know," evasively. 
 " I been about a good deal, 'most everywhere ; but it 
 seems to me that I been lookin' fer it, Bob, forever; 
 that somethin', I don't know what, that I always, al 
 ways been a-dreamin' of an' longin' fer." 
 
 " I don't ketch what you're harpin' on," he said 
 patiently. " I don't see how anybody could be more 
 free than you was. 'Course, if you would go and get 
 married " 
 
 " I wasn't never free," she said passionately. " There 
 ain't nothin' free that's hobbled, even if the hobble's 
 round your heart an' don't show." 
 
 " The mountains do seem to kind o' hedge you in," 
 said the man, adopting what he supposed to be her 
 point of view, " an' it sure don't seem right fer you 
 to be caged up here. You " he looked at her half 
 fearfully, and slightly moistened his lips " I'm a-goin' 
 down the trail in a few days; come on an' go with 
 me." 
 
 She shook her head. " I can't go junketing round 
 with you, Bob; you're a-forgettin' Shock." 
 
 " Oh, I ain't a-forgettin' Shock," he answered 
 coolly. " If you go with me, Pearl, him an' me'll prob 
 ably have it out sometime; but that ain't worryin' me 
 none. Pearl, I ain't forgot the first time I saw you. 
 It was in the back room at Chickasaw Pete's, an' you 
 was a-shakin' dice with two or three of the boys, an' 
 I joined the game. I never admired no one in my life 
 
 234
 
 For a long time they sat in silence
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 like I admired you then, for I knew you wasn't shakin' 
 'em square; but you done it so slick that I couldn'b 
 tell how you managed it, an' you walked out in about 
 twenty minutes with the best part of our money. You 
 remember, Pearl?* 1 ' 
 
 " Oh, I remember," the mysterious veil of reverie had 
 fallen over her sulky eyes. 
 
 " An' the next time I seen you, you was dancin'. 
 You had them emeralds twisted around your neck. 
 Have you forgot how to dance? " 
 
 " No, I ain't forgot." She stirred her feet rest 
 lessly. " Oh, I ain't forgot." There was a moment of 
 silence. " Bob, I always could talk to you, some way. 
 I wonder why? With the other boys it was laugh an* 
 carry on ; but I could always sit down and talk sober an' 
 serious to you. You never made a fool of yourself 
 about me." 
 
 The man's face had grown grey. He attempted to 
 speak once or twice before the words came. At last he 
 laughed, one brief, harsh note. 
 
 " Maybe I didn't, Pearl. They was enough of 'em 
 makin' fools of themselves about you, God knows ! An' 
 I see right from the start that you didn't give a damn 
 for any of 'em; but I was always a fool about you in 
 my heart. They's always plenty of men to go crazy 
 about you, Pearl; to lie, an' steal, an' to kill each 
 other fer you, an' make damn fools of theirselves gen 
 erally. There's a-plenty that likes to show off that 
 a-way; but there's only two or three in all your life 
 that'll ever really love you, an' one of 'em's me." 
 
 235
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 He turned to meet her faintly astonished, cynical 
 gaze. " It's true ; it's God's truth ! " he said doggedly, 
 again drawing the handkerchief from his pocket with 
 a trembling hand and passing it over his brow and his 
 ashen face. " Oh, I always wanted you ! Yes, I'd a 
 stole an' lied an' fought fer you, too. You drove me 
 as stark, starin' crazy as the rest of 'em; but that 
 weren't all. There was somethin' in you, Pearl, that 
 kind o' made me dream, an' that stayed with me; an* 
 it don't let me think much about myself. It's about you. 
 An' now I feel it this a-way. You ain't jus' quite your 
 self. You're a-feelin' the need of a little change. See? 
 Well, you come down the trail with me of a Thursday." 
 
 It was several minutes before she answered. " I 
 couldn't, Bob," and she added gently : " You've kind 
 o 5 surprised me. I didn't know you felt that way for 
 me, an' I'm awful sorry, honest, I am; but I couldn't 
 go." 
 
 " Maybe I ain't made it plain to you," he pleaded. 
 " Maybe you didn't understand. I mean it this a-way," 
 in laborious explanation. " I ain't tryin' to take you 
 away fer myself. It's because I see you ain't happy 
 that I'm a-askin' you to go. All I'm a-askin' is to look 
 after you, an* see that you're comfortable. You kin 
 think of me as a kind of human dog. You'll let me set 
 around when it don't bother you none; an' when you 
 get tired of me you kin kick Fido out, and it'll be 
 back to the kennel fer his. That's all I'm a-askin', 
 Pearl." 
 
 She drew in her breath and looked at him strangely, 
 236
 
 with something new in her glance, something that he 
 had never seen there before. 
 
 " God, Bob ! But you're a good fellow ! " she said in 
 an awed voice. " I didn't suppose there was any of 
 your kind on the earth ; but you don't understand/' 
 
 " I kin learn," he said humbly. " Try me an* see if 
 I can't." 
 
 She smiled at him her heart-shattering, cynical smile. 
 " I don't see how you're a-goin' to learn somethin' that 
 I don't understand myself," she answered ; " an' that's 
 me. There's so many of a person," resentfully, " so 
 terrible many of a person. There's a somethin' in me 
 that's tired, somethin' that's played the game fer a 
 thousand years an' knows there ain't nothin' in it; an' 
 there's somethin' in me that's got to live, an' that some- 
 thin' says, ' Everything comes to you so easy, reach 
 out an' enjoy it'; an' maybe that's the reason that it 
 don't never seem of no account. 'Cause it always comes 
 so easy." 
 
 The pine needles fell about them. New arrows of 
 sunlight pierced the soft gloom, and for a time they 
 sat in the silence of the hills, the Pearl's wistful eyes 
 searching the past. 
 
 " You was a-talkin' about my jewels a while back, 
 Bob," she began suddenly. " Well, the night before I 
 was married I give 'em all to Father Gonzales. It was 
 in that dark little chapel, with just a candle or so 
 burnin' before the shrines; an' it was so still, an' 
 smelled faint of incense. An' you kind o' felt things, 
 things you hadn't never known. Well, I give him my 
 
 237
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 emeralds, an* I says : * Make some poor souls happy 
 with what you can get for these, Padre.' Then he 
 handed out a line of talk that sounded mighty good to 
 me. He says : * This deed that you done, my daughter, 
 redeems your soul. Live clean an' happy from now on,' 
 he says, c an' forget the past.' Oh, but his words felt 
 warm to my heart ! * That's what I want, Padre, 5 I 
 says ; * that's what I want.' I stripped the rings off my 
 fingers, an' I piled 'em up in his hands; an' I cried, 
 Bob. Lord, how the tears run down my face, an' I 
 don't know when I'd ever cried before! Well, he took 
 an' laid the rings on the altar, an' he said : ' These 
 offerings an' your tears washes your soul white. Go in 
 peace, my daughter, an' sin no more.' An' I believed 
 him." There was despair in her voice. " But it was a 
 lie, all a lie, jus' like everything else. I can't find no 
 happiness. There's too many of me; an' yet, I know 
 there's somethin', somethin' that I've missed, an' I don't 
 know how nor where to find it. You all always laughed 
 at me 'cause I didn't know how to tell it; I jus' called 
 it bein' free." 
 
 Flick turned on her with sudden passion. " An' you 
 won't never find it as long as you stay with Shock 
 O'Brien. They tell me," he clinched his hands on his 
 knees and the dark purple crept up slowly under his 
 skin, " they tell me he ain't no scruples against knockin' 
 you 'round as he feels like. I'd " 
 
 She sprang to her feet, livid with fury. " They say, 
 
 they say " She broke into a torrent of oaths. 
 
 " Yes, Bob Flick," growing calmer, " it's true. He's hit 
 
 238
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 me, an* he's hit me more'n once. But why? 'Cause he 
 was jealous." 
 
 " I don't see what difference that makes," he mut 
 tered. 
 
 "You don't? I suppose not," with infinite scorn, 
 " but any woman would. Why, he loves me so much 
 that it drives him plumb off his head to see another 
 man look at me. An' when he gets that way he ain't no 
 idea what he does. An' he ain't never raised a bruise on 
 me, not once, that he ain't cried like a baby an' broke 
 his heart over it when he come to himself. Maybe you 
 think, Bob Flick, 'cause I kind of like to talk over old 
 times with you, that I'd go off with you an' leave him. 
 Why, I'd see you dead in the ditch first. Maybe you 
 think 'cause I kind of hate the mountains and the flat 
 old life here that I'm tired of Shock. Well, you got 
 another good long guess comin'." 
 
 She swept by him, drawing her skirts contemptuously 
 from his shoe, and started down the trail. Then her 
 mood changed, she turned and smiled cajolingly at 
 him, and ran back to stretch out a conciliatory hand. 
 
 " Don't pay no 'tention to me, Bob. You're one of 
 the best ever, an' I know you mean kind, no matter 
 how I take on. But, my Lord! I got to run. Shock'll 
 be home, an' no supper fer him. So long." 
 
 She hastened down the hill, the cheap pink gown 
 falling in long folds of beauty about her Diana-like 
 grace, the last rays of the sun brightening her sun 
 burned hair and never a thought for the man who sat 
 motionless watching her. 
 
 239
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 1 HE divine day through which Frances had dreamed 
 proved to be only a weather-breeder, for the next day 
 an early and unexpected storm set in. 
 
 A storm! the breeze of Fate, for it had a curious 
 effect upon the Missionary's destinies. She had been 
 invited to Mrs. Landvetter's to sup and spend the even 
 ing, and in spite of the threatening skies had gone, for 
 she very largely ignored the weather; but the storm 
 increased so steadily in violence that after supper, as 
 they sat about the hearth, she began to fear she might 
 not be able to make her way to the cabin that night. 
 
 " Mein gracious ! How dat vind blow ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Landvetter, as a cold gust from the peaks rat 
 tled the narrow windows and the rain beat wildly upon 
 the roof. 
 
 "Look how de water creep under de door, und de 
 lamps flare up ! " nodding at the thin flames which 
 rose suddenly and then fell in the two oil-lamps on the 
 newly scoured deal table. " Veil, I hope dis drive Mis' 
 Nitschkan home. You can't go back to-night, Mis- 
 sioner. You got to sleep mit Ethel." 
 
 " I'm afraid I will have to stay if it will not incon 
 venience you, Ethel," returned Frances. 
 
 "You know it won't. I'm awful glad to have you," 
 said the girl who leaned against the rough stone chim- 
 
 240
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 ney. Her tone, though sincere, was preoccupied, and 
 it was evident that something rested heavily on her 
 mind. 
 
 " Oh, I wish it would stop ! " she cried, glancing 
 nervously toward Campbell, who sat huddled on a low 
 stool before the stove, and with restless fingers turned 
 the leaves of the Bible on his knee. " It's sure to bring 
 on one of his spells. I've seen it comin' ever since the 
 wind began to blow." 
 
 " Oh, yes, alvays," was the phlegmatic response of 
 Mrs. Landvetter, as she adjusted the pins in the lace 
 pillow on her lap. 
 
 But again the wind rose, and so madly that the 
 stout door of the cabin tore at its iron bolt and the 
 windows rattled until it seemed as if the glass would 
 break. 
 
 While the women stared apprehensively at the grow 
 ing pool of water under the door, Andrew Campbell 
 suddenly cast his Bible upon the floor, and with wild, 
 strange eyes peering from his mat of grey hair and 
 tangled whiskers, watched the white slant of rain drive 
 against the panes. 
 
 On such nights as these one of those waves of de 
 spair which occasionally broke on his partly eclipsed 
 brain was especially prone to sweep over him, and now, 
 in an almost incoherent storm of words, he began to 
 pour out his grief. 
 
 " It was nigh this time of the year," his speech 
 marked by a stronger Scotch accent than usual and 
 broken by sobs, " and my wife, Ruth, and my son, we 
 
 241
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 were a' up in our cabin on Corona ah, but we were 
 happy ! happy ! " He lost himself in haggard reverie. 
 " Aye, that was it," with passionate conviction ; " we 
 were too happy we had turned our thoughts from 
 God we had forgotten. It had been raining for a 
 week but the creek had kept its banks. 
 
 " Ethel, listen, listen ! " clutching her arm with tense 
 fingers, as the wind again shrieked about the cabin. 
 " The wind was like that we paid no heed. Ruth 
 stirred the parritch for our supper then there came a 
 mighty roaring, like that of the sea it was a' dark in 
 a moment. The teembers o' the cabin strained and 
 snapped and we were a' out in the cold, cold water. 
 Ethel I I " he writhed in the torture of remem 
 brance " I was saved ; and they were lost." 
 
 At his first words the girl had flown to him, and 
 kneeling by his side had thrown one arm protectingly 
 about him ; and now she patted him rhythmically on the 
 back, murmuring, " There, there," as if soothing a 
 baby. Her pale face, with its pretty cleft mouth and 
 big grey eyes, was pressed against the old man's arm 
 and her ashen-fair hair overflowed his shoulder. 
 
 Frances leaned forward with pitiful gaze, as if anx 
 ious to help; but Mrs. Landvetter considered her two 
 boarders with unsoftened, ruminative eyes, as she me 
 thodically placed and replaced her lace pins. 
 
 " Veil, dat is yours," was her deep-voiced, indiffer 
 ent comment. " Efferybody has got deirs comin' to 
 dem. Look at me! I vas forty-nine last Lady's Day, 
 und I ain't neffer had a silk dress." She paused in her
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 work and lost herself in the interest of her narrative. 
 " Vonce, ven I vork in de onion field pretty steady yet, 
 I beg some money from mein mutter und valk two 
 miles to town. I vas goin' to haf a silk vaist like de 
 odder girls. Yust as I got to de store door poppy, 
 he caught me. He valk me home und gif me a goot 
 beatin', I tell you ; und I ain't neffer got my silk dress 
 yet." 
 
 The old man looked at her with a dawning interest in 
 his distraught eyes, sympathy softening the anguish of 
 his gaze. " And you have suffered ? I never thought 
 that," he muttered, shaking his head. 
 
 " Veil," with a wink at the girl, " I ain't neffer had 
 a silk dress. Ain't dat straight, Ethel? " 
 
 " Oh, la ! " cried Ethel, a glow of excitement on her 
 face. " Silk dresses ! I have had a plenty of them in 
 my time, five and six at once." She gave a final pat to 
 the old man and rose to her feet. " The kind that stand 
 alone, some of 'em. You know," vivaciously. " Why, 
 Missioner, I've had things 'most as fine as Lutie's. 
 Satins, brocades, failles, grosgrains, taffetas, all kinds, 
 anything I wanted. My ! " with a reminiscent, vain little 
 laugh, " I certainly had my share of the vanities of 
 the world, 'fore I give 'em all up for Christ's sake. 
 
 " Why, the day of the very night that I was con 
 victed of sin that was down to the Springs, y* know, 
 Missioner, an' I thought, poor blind sinner that I was, 
 that I was havin' the time of my life Tom, a gentle 
 man friend of mine, had just struck a pocket of free 
 gold, an' we was celebratin'. I was keepin' his roll for
 
 him. The boys all knew that they could trust me to 
 any extent" (in a parenthesis of pride). 
 
 " Oh, I ain't tryin' to say a good word for myself 
 anyone whose sins was as scarlet as mine had better not 
 try that on ; but I never stole a cent, an' I wouldn't lie 
 to please you. 
 
 "Well, that morning Tom give me his roll he was 
 a awful generous fellow an' he says : ' Ethel, it's as 
 much yours as it's mine, little girl; peel off what you 
 like.' 
 
 " Well, 'course I took him up. I peeled off a hun 
 dred and fifty then and there an' blew in every cent for 
 lingery. I always was crazy about lingery. Why, Mis' 
 Landvetter, I bought me one petticoat that was nothing 
 but insertion an' lace ruffles clean to the waist lace this 
 wide, y' know," measuring the depth of her fingers. 
 " And I never put it on, neither ; for that very night I 
 heard Mr. Campbell here speakin' to a crowd on the 
 street, an' every word he said went right home," placing 
 her hand to her heart, " and I knew I was saved by the 
 blood of the Lamb. 
 
 " But, la ! men don't know what temptation is. When 
 the devil gets after me, he keeps whisperin' of pretty 
 things. He tries to get me into stores, jus' to see 'em 
 an' finger 'em." She laughed triumphantly. " He had 
 me so tight he didn't want to give me up, did he, Mr. 
 Campbell?" 
 
 But Campbell paid no heed to their talk, his thoughts 
 were occupied with the plaint to which Mrs. Landvetter 
 had given utterance. Having laid bare to her the an- 
 
 244
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 guish of his soul, he assumed that her secret despair 
 had risen up and answered it. That her cause of grief 
 was slight to absurdity, he did not pause to analyse 
 perhaps was incapable of doing so. He simply accepted 
 her words that " efferybody has deirs comin' to dem." 
 He had his sorrow ; she had hers. It mattered little what 
 form it took, whether it were the terror by night, or 
 the destruction that wasteth at noonday. His was the 
 loss of wife, home, and child ; hers the ungratified long 
 ing for a silk dress. 
 
 His mind thus withdrawn from his own trouble, he 
 sat more calmly, pondering over this revelation in a 
 nature which he had never suspected of ethical yearn 
 ings, and suddenly felt himself drawn to the hard, un 
 sympathetic hausfrau by the ties of a common under 
 standing. 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter's thoughts, however, were busy with 
 things far removed from silk dresses. Her ideas had 
 gained a new impetus, and all night her shrewd wits 
 were working over a plan by which Campbell's useful 
 ness to herself might be considerably augmented. 
 
 The next morning she arose with her plan fully 
 matured and the determination to put it into execution 
 as speedily as possible. 
 
 The storm was so violent that its fury had ex 
 hausted itself before daybreak, and the sun shone upon 
 a freshly washed, if somewhat desolate, world. Great 
 branches had blown from the trees, and the leaves lay 
 over the ground so thickly that it surprised one to see 
 that any still remained upon the boughs. 
 
 245
 
 " Campbell, he tracks out pretty soon now," re 
 marked Mrs. Landvetter to Ethel and Frances, as they 
 stood watching her hang out the clothes which she had 
 risen before dawn to wash. " I got a plan for him, 
 und I vant you und Missioner, Ethel, to kind o' coax 
 him into it." 
 
 Ethel looked at her with quick suspicion. " What 
 scheme you tryin' to work off on him now?" she asked 
 sharply. 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter took a clothespin from between 
 her teeth and pinned up a sheet to the line. " Veil," she 
 began slowly, " I don't see no reason vy, instead of 
 sellin' my laces to dose agents dat takes deir money 
 oudt before I gets mine, I shouldn't get dat old Camp 
 bell to peddle 'em ven he goes over de mountains, 
 hein?" 
 
 " He won't like it," replied Ethel, " and he won't do 
 it. Oh, I know," as the German woman was about to 
 interrupt her, "you think anything's good enough for 
 him. You just see a little, half -cracked, withered stump 
 of a man, don't you, like most folks does around here? 
 But if he'd wrestled for your soul like he done for 
 mine, you'd see Christ's messenger, same as I do. And 
 he shan't go for to peddle." She turned toward the 
 gate. 
 
 " But, Ethel, yet," explained Mrs. Landvetter, 
 snatching at her gown, " tink how goot it vould be for 
 him. Dose vimmen dat he shows de lace to dey looks 
 after him some. Dey gif him a bed und a meal now und 
 den. He can't look after hisself." 
 
 246
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 " That is true," said Frances, struck by the reason 
 ableness of this presentation. 
 
 " I know it," admitted Ethel, with reluctance, " an' 
 maybe I will ask him to help you out. Mind, I ain't 
 promising though ; I got to think it over." She walked 
 abruptly to the gate with brooding eyes and com 
 pressed lips. 
 
 " I haf so mooch laces," continued Mrs. Landvetter 
 to Frances ; " ten yards in de pineapple pattern, und 
 twelve in de roses point, und eight in de flur de lisses, 
 und mooch odders. I tink I make dat old man sell dem 
 all right," with an emphatic nod of her head. 
 
 " I really think it is rather a good idea, Mrs. Land 
 vetter," said Frances thoughtfully. " As you say, he 
 would be well taken care of." 
 
 " Dat is so. Dat is what I say." And feeling suffi 
 ciently bolstered by Frances's approbation, she lost no 
 time in notifying Campbell of her project for making 
 him useful. He shook his shaggy head and thrust out 
 an obstinate lower jaw. 
 
 " Am I to peddle laces, woman? I gang to the moun 
 tains for meditation on the meesteries and for the find 
 ing of ore by means of my gift. And I will not peddle 
 laces." 
 
 For a day or two he remained obstinate, in defiance 
 of her rough pleading, and consequently she deemed it 
 wise to defer discussion of the subject until Ethel came 
 home a day or two later. Then she turned her batteries 
 on the girl, until Ethel sought the Missionary for 
 counsel. Frances, still impressed by Mrs. Landvetter's
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 reasoning, threw the weight of her influence on the 
 side of the latter. Consequently, when the old man men 
 tioned the subject with shamefaced apology, Ethel was 
 ready with her answer. 
 
 " I know, she spoke to me about it, Mr. Campbell, 
 and it don't seem right, indeed it don't. For my part, I 
 don't think you ought to do a thing but stand in the 
 pulpit and preach. Still, I'd feel a sight easier about 
 you if you would undertake to sell her laces. It wouldn't 
 be peddlin', really it wouldn't, Mr. Campbell; it would 
 just be accommodatin' a friend." 
 
 He considered this view of the question with a 
 brightening face and finally accepted it. " Ah, well," 
 with resignation, " say no more about it. I will 
 do it." 
 
 So one morning, when the sun lay mellowly over 
 the aspens, whose leaves were turning to gold under the 
 sharp touch of discipline administered by the frost, and 
 the maples were hung with thousands of serrated, scar 
 let banners, which floated and gleamed through the 
 pines, austerely dark, permanently green, old Andrew 
 Campbell trudged up the road toward the shining, snow- 
 clad peaks, his wire in his hand and Mrs. Landvetter's 
 laces snugly stowed away in his pack. 
 
 And as he pursued his wanderings, he drew these 
 forth from time to time with wonderful results, for the 
 women on whose hearthstones he sat regarded him with 
 an almost superstitious awe and prized his wares above 
 their value. By day he prospected with his wire and his 
 cabalistic figures ; at nightfall, in the isolated cabins, 
 
 248
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 he expounded his " meesteries " and casually and some 
 what reluctantly exhibited Mrs. Landvetter's laces. 
 
 His very indifference increased the eagerness of his 
 purchasers. They recognised in him a different type of 
 peddler from the usual brisk, business-like, anxious-to- 
 sell variety. He drifted into their cabins and spoke to 
 them prophet-wise of things alien to their intelligence, 
 but which roused in them their latent veneration for 
 the seer. 
 
 And in the different villages where he sojourned 
 briefly, he wandered into the gambling houses, as naively 
 sure of his welcome as in the cabins. In fact, these 
 constituted his market places, for this unworldly old 
 man, to whom life's realities were its mysteries, was 
 well known among the worshippers of the blind Ma 
 donna of chance. 
 
 But the season was a bad one. Mr. Campbell found 
 it difficult to arouse interest even in the few claims 
 he took up. The wire, too, proved singularly capri 
 cious; and although the old man stood patiently on 
 the rocks for hours at a time repeating his magical 
 numbers, his divining rod seldom trembled in his 
 hand. 
 
 Then, too, the days, although still golden, were 
 growing shorter, and there was a nipping touch in the 
 air which warned the old prospector that the snow 
 would soon drift over his trails, and that to turn his 
 face homeward were the part of discretion; when sud 
 denly, by one of those sardonic jests of Fate, which 
 sometimes tempt one to believe one's self but a pawn on 
 
 249
 
 THE NEW MIS SIGNER 
 
 the chessboard in a match game between the powers of 
 good and evil, his progress was unexpectedly delayed. 
 
 Longer than was his wont, Campbell had tarried in 
 one camp where he hoped the ore might prove respon 
 sive to his quest; and there in the garishly decorated 
 saloons he gave the people the benefit of his mysti 
 cism and the opportunity of purchasing his claims 
 opportunities, in the main, neglected or ignored. 
 
 But this sordid, squalid little mining village, with its 
 magnificent environment of snow-capped summits, whis 
 pering pines, and mellow sunlight, was experiencing a 
 long-anticipated, infrequent excitement. There came a 
 fair or festival week, and Mr. Campbell, dazed but in 
 terested, found himself jostled, hurried along by a tide 
 of men and women, hailed by name, the centre of laugh 
 ing groups. The village for the nonce had become the 
 magnetic lodestone of those effervescent spirits from 
 neighbouring camps on whom the hills had for months 
 laid their repressive spell. 
 
 It was all so strange and disturbing that Campbell 
 lost what little sense he had of life's everyday propor 
 tions. For hours during the day, and until long after 
 midnight, he wandered about, possessed by the spirit 
 of excitement and restlessness in the air. 
 
 At last, during one of his peregrinations, he paused 
 before the window of a shop, his attention arrested by 
 the sumptuous display behind the glass. 
 
 " Man, man," he murmured ; " that is silk, and Mrs. 
 Landvetter has never had a silk dress. Why," with 
 brightening eyes, " I will take her one ; it will be a 
 
 250
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 surprise for her. But," his face falling, " it will doubt 
 less be very costly." 
 
 He drew out an old wallet from an inner pocket and, 
 untying the string which bound it, carefully examined 
 its contents. It held but a little silver, and he shook his 
 head sadly as he wound the string around it once more 
 and thrust it back. "The pity of it! The pity of it! 
 But," he considered, his face suddenly alight, " I have 
 money from the sale of her foolish lacework, the miser 
 able money that she will hoard away in a stocking be 
 cause she does not know that there are silk dresses so 
 near her." 
 
 Finally, under the spur of this suggestion, he drifted 
 within and asked to look at silk pieces. Bolt after bolt 
 was unrolled for his inspection and held up to catch the 
 light. 
 
 " Beautiful selection, sir," said the clerk genially. 
 
 " Aye," agreed Campbell. " I was thinking of a 
 lady," he continued slowly and impressively, " who has 
 never had a silk dress." 
 
 " Well, judging from the standpoint of women, that 
 lady has never really lived," remarked the clerk. " You 
 ought to set that straight, right off. Now, just because 
 we're selling at closing-out prices, I'm going to let you 
 have your choice of anything here." 
 
 " I do not know what colour she would prefer," de 
 murred Campbell; "whether the yellow or the red." 
 
 "How old's the lady?" asked the clerk, leaning 
 across the counter. 
 
 Mr. Campbell considered. " Forty-nine last Lady's
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 Day," he said carefully, " whatever Papist festival that 
 may be." 
 
 " Then she'll want black," the clerk spoke with de 
 cisive finality. " I bet all these years she's had her heart 
 set on a black silk dress." 
 
 His arguments were more than convincing; but al 
 though visibly wavering, Mr. Campbell held to his orig 
 inal intention of prudence. " This is an important mat 
 ter to decide," he said with dignity ; " I must discuss it 
 with my wife." 
 
 But Ruth, mythical and complaisant counsellor, evi 
 dently viewed the question in the same light as himself. 
 There seemed to arise no misgivings as to his ethical 
 right to spend Mrs. Landvetter's money for a silk dress. 
 
 Campbell, in his scrupulous delicacy, would have 
 starved to death before he would have taken a penny of 
 the sum to buy himself a crust of bread; but in the 
 instance before him he saw only the opportunity of 
 granting to a fellow-being a long-cherished heart's de 
 sire. Therefore he returned to the store the following 
 day and for the sum of twenty-five dollars purchased 
 the silk dress, with accompanying buttons, thread, lin 
 ings, etc., which the clerk assured him were necessary 
 for the proper making of a gown. 
 
 252
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 MlSS EVELYN SOURRIER was enjoying her 
 experience in Zenith as much, if not more, than any 
 thing she had ever known in all her varied and agree 
 able existence. The freedom of the life, the absence of 
 blue china standards, the peculiarities of the people 
 she met in this remote mining village all delighted her. 
 Especially did she profess herself charmed with Fran 
 ces and her home. 
 
 The tiny cabin nestling against the ledge of rock, 
 with the aspens quivering over it, the brook that foamed 
 down the deep gully before the door, the black-robed, 
 composed figure of the Missionary herself, all appealed 
 to her imagination. The picture seemed so complete, so 
 suited to its environment, and Frances, so reserved, so 
 controlled, showing only glimpses of the woman in oc 
 casional, revealing glances of her dark eyes, and her 
 strange, sweet, unexpected smiles, had become to Eve 
 lyn a fascinating puzzle. 
 
 Consequently, during the second week that Garvin's 
 guests remained with him, there was scarcely a day 
 that this light-hearted, laughing girl did not climb the 
 hill to the Missionary's door and beg to be allowed to 
 make herself a cup of tea. She loved to play with 
 Frances's dainty kitchen utensils, all stowed away, fair 
 
 53
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 and shining, in the little cupboard behind the stove. 
 It made her feel as if she were a child again and play 
 ing with her dolls. 
 
 But Frances's little cabin was not the only one in 
 which she sipped tea. She had, with a most endearing 
 grace of manner, made herself very much at home in 
 Zenith, and the consensus of the camp's opinion was 
 duly expressed by Mrs. Thomas : 
 
 " I mus' say for her," remarked that lady, with a 
 judicial air of giving the devil his due, " that she's 
 always called on me as one lady might on another. I 
 ain't seen no signs of any soup kitchen airs or any 
 totin' around of red flannels, like you read about in 
 them English novels. 'Course it's kind o' sad to think 
 of Walt havin' all them high-jinks goin' on at the 
 house an' Lutie hardly cold in her grave; but then not 
 bein' really married, Walt don't have to keep up a show 
 of mournin' like a man's bound to for a wife." 
 
 But if Zenith consented to forego for once her cher 
 ished rights of criticism and voice approval of Miss 
 Sourrier, the English girl expressed an equally flat 
 tering opinion of Zenith as she sat on the Missionary's 
 doorstep, sipping her third cup of tea. 
 
 " I do like it here," she said, with a sigh of content. 
 " Freedom, open air, good sport what more could one 
 ask? It's just the life I love; and was there ever such 
 a delicious, quaint camp? I am fascinated by every 
 one, but most of all by that strange, beautiful creature 
 they call the Black Pearl. I've watched her standing irt 
 her gate or working in her garden day after day, look- 
 
 254
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 ing out at the mountains with those great, shadowy eyes 
 of hers, or talking to that dandy-looking gambler 
 what's his name? Bob Flick and I have never seen 
 anyone who has so stirred my imagination as she. I 
 lie awake at night to make up romances about her. 
 They say that she was a wonderful dancer, known all 
 over the Southwest, and that she gave it up to marry 
 that ripping-looking husband of hers. Isn't that a ro 
 mance in itself? " 
 
 She paused a moment to spread some bits of biscuit 
 on the edge of her gown to lure nearer the chipmunks 
 peering at her with bright, bead-like eyes from behind 
 the rocks, and then scampering off, speedily to return. 
 
 When she spoke again' it was of Garvin, describing 
 with a very real enthusiasm some incident in which she 
 considered that he had shown courage and exceptional 
 powers of resource. 
 
 " Father and I have drifted about the world a lot, and 
 of course known quantities of men; but Mr. Garvin 
 is really one of the most remarkable men I've ever 
 known; so simple, so natural, so cultivated, too, with 
 no nonsense about him. Millionaires are usually so ob 
 jectionable." Her interest and admiration vibrated 
 through her low, charming voice. 
 
 " Everyone likes and admires him," said Frances, her 
 eyes bent on her sewing, and in an endeavour to speak 
 naturally her voice, even to herself, sounded cold and 
 constrained; but Evelyn was apparently oblivious of 
 her lack of enthusiasm. 
 
 " I sometimes fear my high spirits must jar on him 
 255
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 so soon after his wife's death. He often seems pre 
 occupied and distrait." 
 
 His wife! Frances threw her a quick glance, but 
 Evelyn's eyes were innocent. 
 
 " Do tell me about her," she continued. " Was he 
 very much in love with her? Mrs. Thomas was telling 
 me the other day about her demand for laces and jewels 
 and all that sort of thing up to almost the last moment 
 before her death, and how Mr. Garvin strove to gratify 
 every wish. He would be that way, wouldn't he? But 
 she must have been very silly." 
 
 Frances drew a sigh of relief. Zenith had been dis 
 creet. 
 
 "Lutie was very lovable." It was almost a formula. 
 
 " Oh, he is wonderful, wonderful ! " murmured the 
 English girl. She crumbled some more biscuit in her 
 hand and threw it to the chipmunks, and Frances gazed 
 at her with eyes that took in every detail. The pale 
 gold of her faultlessly dressed hair, the smooth, firm 
 outline of an incomparably tinted cheek; the delicate, 
 high-bred nose; eyes set in the head like jewels, sap 
 phire eyes that had only looked on pleasant things ; the 
 long, graceful limbs, supple with every form of out 
 door exercise; the slender, white hands, now folded 
 about her knees, and her beautifully modelled feet. 
 
 She was indeed a princess of a fairy tale, and Frances 
 mentally saw herself beside this radiant creature, plain, 
 quiet, without even the redeeming touch of youth; and 
 the dagger of jealousy pierced her heart. 
 
 "I never saw such an Aladdin," continued Evelyn 
 256
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 enthusiastically. " All he has to do is to rub his lamp 
 and there is whatever he wishes. A day or two ago I 
 happened to say that if the mountains had a lack, it 
 was roses. He smiled, and we drifted into something 
 else; but this morning great boxes, positively bales of 
 them, came. I never saw so many roses in my life 
 before. The house is transformed into an English rose- 
 garden." 
 
 A shadow fell across Frances's face, a shadow that 
 remained during the rest of the day, until toward even 
 ing she saw Herries staggering up the hill with an 
 enormous box on his shoulder. " I guess Walt's cor 
 nered the rose market," he said, twisting his mouth after 
 his accustomed fashion. " He's got a whole houseful of 
 them on the flats, and now he's sent you a houseful." 
 He put the box down and took off the lid. 
 
 " Oh, if I could only keep them always ! " she cried, 
 her eyes grown moist and radiant at the sight of their 
 beauty. 
 
 " You may," said Herries. " You will be able to per 
 form that miracle if you wish. You may have them 
 fresh every day if you like." He glanced at her half- 
 humorously, half wistfully from under his shaggy brows 
 and spoke with obvious meaning. 
 
 " Where, where shall I put them all ? " she asked, 
 flushing painfully. " I have no beautiful vases. We 
 shall have to use common things, like buckets and 
 pails." 
 
 Herries helped her arrange the flowers in anything 
 they could find that would hold water, and when they 
 
 257
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 had finished the roses filled every space of her narrow 
 chamber. The long, green stems with their shining 
 leaves feh 1 across each other and made a lattice, while 
 the roses that starred them glowed against her white 
 washed walls like a crimson arabesque of love. The 
 fragrance seemed to blow from the heart of June, and 
 Frances, sitting alone in the evening, felt herself act 
 ually permeated by the sweetness, and the spell of 
 beauty and colour and fragrance became every moment 
 more potent. 
 
 Then through the deepening twilight she saw Garvin 
 and Evelyn strolling up the hill together. The English 
 girl wore some kind of a gauzy, white gown which de 
 fined her tall, Diana-like figure. She was hatless, and 
 above the coils of her fair hair was a wreath of roses 
 arranged like a coronet. As they passed Frances's 
 cabin there floated back to her the sound of Evelyn's 
 soft and musical laughter. 
 
 The Missionary sat for a few moments in silence, 
 and then went into her little inner chamber, and, light 
 ing a candle, scanned her own reflection in her small 
 mirror. 
 
 She held the light high, and in the faint, flickering 
 flame of the candle the shadows about her eyes were 
 accentuated and the lines deepened. She could not see 
 the soul which gave life and character to her face; she 
 could only see the hollows of the temples, the sombre 
 eyes, the square outlines of the jaw in a face never 
 beautiful according to any canons of beauty. 
 
 She put the candle down, and resting her elbows on 
 258
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 the bureau, sunk her chin in her hands and gazed long 
 at her own reflection. From the dim depths of her 
 being another self seemed to rise and ask probing, im 
 perative questions. 
 
 " Do you love him? " 
 
 " Do I love him? " she murmured, shaken by such a 
 tide of passionate emotion as she had never known. 
 " Do I love him? " The question itself was an affirma 
 tion. 
 
 The fragrance and colour in which she had lived 
 and moved and breathed all day wrought their spell, 
 and the shadowy self, the woman who worked and 
 planned and thought, retired to some far limbo of con 
 sciousness, while the woman who loved asserted herself, 
 the jealousy of which she had felt the first pang 
 when she heard Evelyn Sourrier's laughter ached like a 
 dagger working its slow, twisting way through her 
 heart, and the cruel, implacable feminine the gliding, 
 sinuous, subtle serpent of the feminine rose and whis 
 pered. 
 
 It was she Garvin loved, not the English girl but 
 she, Frances. It seemed to her now that she must al 
 ways have known it, from the first moment they had 
 gazed into each other's eyes ; but, nevertheless, she 
 hated the English girl. She could have torn the roses 
 from Evelyn's hair. There were no roses in her hair. 
 No; but if there were, she would not wear them as did 
 Evelyn. Her roses, she instinctively knew, would never 
 be plucked in a demure English garden and blown upon 
 by the wholesome winds of the breezy down. The woman 
 
 259
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 who loved smiled scornfully at the thought. She craved 
 the musky, heavy-headed roses grown in the very heart 
 of the Venusberg. 
 
 Herries's words came back to her. He had said she 
 could wear roses if she would. Well, she would. She 
 tore down the tightly pinned-up braids and let them 
 hang over her shoulder, great glistening black coils 
 that swung heavily almost to the floor. Hastily she 
 pinned above each ear a cluster of red roses. With hur 
 ried fingers she removed the waist of her gown ; her 
 shoulders were still white and firm, her throat a smooth 
 column. Oh, they were not unfitted for the display of 
 jewels! But not diamonds; she would not wear those 
 cold, sparkling jewels that Lutie loved, but blood-red 
 rubies, and opals with hearts of fire gleaming through 
 faint mist films symbols of power. 
 
 The serpent whispered the old, eternal feminine lure, 
 and the passion for adornment, stronger and more vital 
 because so long repressed, came upon her. Was she 
 not beloved by one of earth's conquerors? And he, and 
 she would go out into the world from these moun 
 tains where he had amassed his great golden hoard. 
 Go out magicians who could transmute gold to beauty, 
 and colour, and luxury, and power; and the kingdoms 
 of the world should be theirs. 
 
 The serpent whispered as ever of the apple, and the 
 eternal feminine stretched forth her hand when there 
 came a loud, though tremulous, knocking upon the 
 door. Frances paused only to lift the roses from her 
 hair and ran to answer the summons. 
 
 260
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 " Who is there ? " she called, her fingers on the bolt. 
 
 " It is me, Ethel," was the sobbing answer. 
 
 The Missionary made haste to unbar the door, and 
 the girl stumbled over the threshold. " Oh, Missioner ! " 
 she cried. " Save me, save me ! The Devil's got me ; he's 
 got me for everlasting ! " 
 
 Her face was sodden with tears, her hair fell wildly 
 over it; brokenly, she poured forth her story of what 
 had happened, and Frances from her almost incoherent 
 words gradually gathered an impression of the actual 
 occurrence. 
 
 Mr. Campbell had finally returned from his wander 
 ings. About sunset he stood in the doorway of Mrs. 
 Landvetter's cabin, and Ethel, bubbling with a voluble 
 welcome, had sprung to meet him. She had caught, she 
 explained to Frances, an immediate impression of some 
 thing new in his expression, something responsive, al 
 most buoyant. It was as if the blight which had so long 
 overfallen him had been partly erased. There he stood, 
 smiling, mysterious, alert. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad to see you back," she cried. " Oh, 
 I tell you I have missed you ; but the change has done 
 you good. You do look well." 
 
 " Aye, and I have some surprises for you all," with 
 a certain sly glee, as he placed the long, narrow pack 
 age on the table. " I have a vairse which will take me the 
 winter to ponder oot, and I have something for Mrs. 
 Landvetter something she has wished for a* her 
 life!" 
 
 " For pity's sake ! Ain't you the kindest little man ! " 
 261
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 said Ethel tenderly. " To remember her after the way 
 but still now, that ain't Christian. There she is now," 
 as Mrs. Landvetter passed the window and threw open 
 the door, a billet of wood in her hard, red arms. When 
 she saw Campbell a smile widened the corners of her 
 mouth, and avarice shone in her eyes. 
 
 " Veil, Mr. Campbell, how you vas ? Excoose me, 
 v'ile I puts down dis vood und den I gif you a hand. 
 Veil, veil! So, so. You didn't get lost, nor nuttin', 
 hein? Sit down v'ile I make you a cup of coffee." 
 
 With a sly glance at Ethel, Campbell took his old 
 seat on the stool, his cherished package laid carefully 
 across his knees. 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter was aware that there were certain 
 formalities prescribed by etiquette to be observed before 
 she could put the one paramount question; but she 
 determined to make these as brief as possible. Conse 
 quently, a generous piece of wood was thrust into the 
 stove, and the coffee pot was filled and put on to boil, 
 with an obvious bustle. 
 
 And now for the formalities. " Veil, wie gehts in de 
 mountains ? De wire done goot, I guess ? " 
 
 Her boarder thrust out his lower jaw. " No," he re 
 turned. " It was not good." 
 
 " Dat vas too bad. But de vetter ; he vas nice, vasn't 
 he?" 
 
 " Beautiful," assented Mr. Campbell. 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter sighed with relief. She had paid her 
 mint and anise and cummin to Mrs. Grundy. " Und," 
 leaning eagerly forward and speaking with an almost 
 
 262
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 tremulous jocularity, " und haf you brought all mein 
 laces back, or haf you lost dem? " 
 
 " I have sold them a'." 
 
 "Effery piece?" she screamed incredulously. 
 "Effery piece?" 
 
 " Every piece," he answered. 
 
 " Veil, you vas a goot liddle man. Und how mooch 
 did dey bring; how mooch?" 
 
 " Twenty-five dollars." 
 
 " Twenty-five dollars ? Mein Gott, you vas de best 
 effer ! " hugging herself and rocking back and forth in 
 her glee. " Twenty-five dollars ! Und now," with out 
 stretched, visibly itching fingers, " v'ere is de money? " 
 
 " It's a' in this package." He slowly unrolled the 
 paper from the silk. " There it is ! " 
 
 The huge German woman looked at him for a mo 
 ment in astonishment. " Vat you givin' me, Campbell? " 
 she asked roughly. 
 
 He still smiled. " You have never had a silk dress in 
 your life," his words tumbled over each other at the 
 thought of the magnitude of the joy he was confer 
 ring, " and I have bought you one with the money I 
 got from the sale of your laces." 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter looked at him a moment with a 
 purpling face. Then she sprang at him. " You bought 
 dat silk mit my money? Den, by Gott, I break your 
 head ! " She rushed toward the pile of wood on the 
 hearth, and seizing a thick stick, struck blindly in the 
 air. 
 
 But Ethel, lithe and quick, had sprung from her
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 seat at the table, picking up something as she ran 
 something that gleamed long and shining in her 
 hand. 
 
 " Don't you touch him, or I'll kill you ! " she threat 
 ened, catching the larger woman by the arm. Her face 
 was dead white, her narrowed eyes glittered like a 
 cat's, her gasping voice was scarcely audible. " You 
 it ain't the first time I've used a knife! The jury has 
 let me off twice, an' they would again, you bet. Drop 
 that stick, I tell you ! Drop it ! " Then, as Mrs. Land- 
 vetter wavered, but still held her ground, she bent the 
 long thin blade almost double and let it snap back in 
 the older woman's face. 
 
 The mighty Hun recoiled, but still snarling and 
 showing her fangs. " I vant my money," she muttered 
 stubbornly ; " und, by Gott, I get it out of him ! " 
 
 " Yes, I know you, you dirty coward. You'll wait 
 till I'm gone and then take it out of him, and rattle 
 him so that he won't never get straight again. Well, 
 you won't get the chance; for I'll pay you your old 
 money now. I'll take the silk off your hands. It ain't 
 the first time I've wore silk, by a long sight ! " 
 
 She tore open her gown and drew a chamois bag from 
 her bosom. Unfastening it, she counted out some crum 
 pled bills and loose silver. " There's your money," con 
 temptuously ; " twenty-five dollars. Put it down in your 
 stocking now. Get it safe, do ! " 
 
 " V'ere you get it, Ethel? " Mrs. Landvetter clutched 
 the money, fawned over it, and yet feared to hold it. 
 
 " None of your damn business where I got it ! You 
 264
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 drop that wood and go on out to your washtubs ! " She 
 stamped her foot, and then, seeing the other hesitate, 
 motioned with her knife toward the door. " Go on, I 
 say!" 
 
 As Mrs. Landvetter closed the door behind her Ethel 
 threw her weapon on the table and ran to old Andrew 
 Campbell, who crouched upon the floor close to the wall, 
 holding his grey head with his hands. 
 
 " Come, come," she crooned brokenly ; " come with 
 Ethel." 
 
 He said no word, but at the sound of her voice, arose 
 feebly, and passively let her lead him to his dark little 
 room off the kitchen. She had almost to lift him upon 
 his bunk, and then she knelt beside him, spent with her 
 fury, shaken with hysterical tears. 
 
 At last he turned his haggard face with its wild, mis 
 erable eyes to hers. " I do not care if she shook me," 
 he muttered hoarsely ; " I do not care if she did not 
 like the silk. But I cannot forgive her, and I can never 
 pray again, and I cannot enter the Kingdom of 
 Heaven." 
 
 " But," Ethel checked her sobs to soothe him, " if 
 you don't care that she shook you, and if you don't 
 care that she didn't like the silk, what makes you feel 
 so bad?" 
 
 " Because," he answered with solemn anguish, " she 
 lifted a great stick and struck my Ruth; and I can 
 never forgive her." His words trailed as he lapsed into 
 despair. 
 
 Ethel was bewildered for a moment, and then, with a 
 265
 
 dawning comprehension of his trouble, she looked about 
 her helplessly. There seemed no way in which she could 
 minister to this mind diseased. 
 
 But again she turned her perplexed, despairing 
 glance toward the bed where Campbell lay ; and as she 
 gazed at that waif conquered, overwhelmed, beaten by 
 life the light of love shone in her eyes and in her 
 sad, pitying smile. 
 
 *' Listen, Mr. Campbell," bending above him and 
 speaking with imperative, tender distinctness. " It 
 wasn't your Ruth who got hit. It was me just only 
 Ethel. She give me a whack across the arm, and you've 
 got us mixed up. How could you? Why, your Ruth 
 stood beside you all the time." 
 
 He half raised himself in the bed, new hope dawning 
 in his eyes. But they clouded again with suspicion. 
 His trembling hands plucked at her sleeve. " Let me 
 see," he said, " where she struck you." 
 
 Her lips paled ; then she lifted her head with a reck 
 less laugh. " It don't show yet, dear ; but it will be all 
 black and blue by to-morrow. You'll see." Smiling ten 
 derly at him, she rose to her feet and walked to the 
 small, narrow window. Leaning her head against the 
 rough sash, she looked out upon the grey of the hills 
 now blurred in twilight. Her fair hair fell about her 
 white face, her scarlet mouth drooped forlornly. At 
 last she turned, and with the instinctive idea of seeking 
 comfort somewhere, had struggled blindly, almost un 
 consciously, up the hill to Frances's cabin. 
 
 ** And, oh, Missjoner," she wailed with a hysterical, 
 266
 
 " Listen, Mr. Campbell" 1
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 choking catch in her voice, " I ain't never lied nor 
 stole till to-day. No matter what else I've done, I've 
 always been a lady that way. But," with the last aban 
 donment of despair, " I guess if I could fall so low as 
 to steal what I collected for the Army, I needn't let a 
 little thing like a lie stick in my throat." She dropped 
 her face in her hands. " I've tried to raise myself ; I've 
 tried to be somebody but what's the use ! It seems like 
 even God was against me." 
 
 For answer, Frances gathered the girl's trembling, 
 sob-racked body in her arms and held her closely, 
 warmly against her heart, smoothing back the hair from 
 the damp brow, and crooning over her as a mother 
 might have done, murmuring tender, consoling words. 
 At last, when Ethel lay against her quiet, but ex 
 hausted, she placed her gently in a chair and left her 
 for a moment, to return presently with a roll of bills in 
 her hands. 
 
 " There, Ethel," she said, " is twenty-five dollars. It 
 is yours. The Army is paid back now, and you owe it 
 nothing. You owe me nothing either, for you have given 
 me the happiness of helping you." 
 
 Ethel's dazed eyes lightened. She stretched out an 
 eager and yet hesitating hand toward the money; and 
 then her face fell again into its woful lines. " But it 
 don't wipe out the sin," she cried ; " it don't wipe out 
 the sin ! " and fell again into her wild weeping. 
 
 " Listen ! Stop crying ! Listen to me ! " Frances's 
 voice was imperative now. " You sinned to spare Mr. 
 Campbell suffering. You sinned because you couldn't 
 
 267
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 stand by and see cruelty, no matter what the cost to 
 yourself. You sinned through love, Ethel, and those 
 sins are quickly forgiven, blotted out. See how easily 
 even I could help you. Ah, Ethel, I wonder that I call 
 them sins " she forgot the girl. " ' "Tis man's perdi 
 tion to be safe,' " her thought turning to her beloved 
 Emerson, " ' even from what he or anyone else might 
 
 call sin when he ought to forget himself wholly ' " 
 
 She was far beyond Ethel now, and the girl plucked at 
 her sleeve. 
 
 " But I backslid," she persisted, still hysterically self- 
 accusing. " I thought I was redeemed; and I'm just as 
 bad as ever. I went for Mrs. Landvetter with a knife. 
 I can't understand it. I thought my feet was planted 
 on a rock, and I slid back just as easy. I thought I was 
 on the rock so solid that the gates of Hell couldn't 
 prevail against me; an' I slid back just as easy. Oh, I 
 can't understand it ! " 
 
 " Nor I," said Frances sadly ; " nor any of us. Come, 
 Ethel, you must stay with me to-night and rest." 
 
 It was not a difficult matter to persuade the worn- 
 out girl to remain with her, and the Missionary quickly 
 helped her to undress, soothing and comforting her 
 meanwhile and sitting beside her until Ethel closed her 
 heavy eyes in sleep. 
 
 Then with swift, light movements, Frances gathered 
 up the roses she had torn from her hair and bosom, and 
 which lay, scattered and fading about the floor, and 
 carried them out into the night. 
 
 On her little bridge, with the cool wind blowing about 
 
 268
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 her, she buried her face in them for a moment, inhal 
 ing, in one deep breath, all their beauty and fragrance. 
 " I do not understand it either, Ethel, how we can 
 slip backward," she murmured, and then cast the roses 
 into the shallow, rushing water of the stream. 
 
 269
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 RS. EVANS, bearing loaves and fishes, and accom 
 panied by Mrs. Thomas, climbed the mountain road to 
 Frances's cabin. Night was just falling, the blackness 
 beginning to be spangled with stars. 
 
 " I jus' brought a loaf of salt-risin' bread, Mis- 
 sioner, I baked fresh this afternoon, an' some lemon- 
 jelly cake. Marthy's a-carryin' it. Here, Marthy, put 
 it down on the table." 
 
 " It's sure a frosty night," throwing off her cape 
 and hood and accepting the chair Frances offered her, 
 tf an* it looks cosey as you please in here. Well, Mis- 
 sioner," with importance, " Marthy an' me took a little 
 time off to bring you the news. Sadie Nitschkan's 
 comin' home to-morrow. Some campers that's just got 
 in brought the word to Jack." 
 
 " It's been six weeks an' more since Jack wrote her, 
 commandin' her to come back the minute she got the 
 letter, an' she ain't paid no more attention to it than 
 if he was catnip," announced Mrs. Thomas. 
 
 " Well, she's goin' to get her lesson now," Mrs. Evans 
 made the affirmation complacently. " It don't always do 
 to go up against a husband when his blood's up." 
 
 "If Jack'll only stay firm." Mrs. Thomas's tone 
 seemed to imply a pessimistic doubt of all men. 
 
 " Of course he'll stay firm," the tiny woman threw 
 
 270
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 the Venus Colossal an impatient glance. " He's got the 
 whole of us backin' him, ain't he? 'Course, Missioner," 
 explanatorily, " we ain't really goin' to let him turn 
 Sadie out, like he feels like now ; but he's goin' to give 
 her a good scare. She's got to be disciplined." 
 
 "Well, I hope she's enjoyed her gipsyin'," Mrs. 
 Thomas spoke piously. " Say, Missioner, ain't it awful 
 the way the Pearl's carry in' on with Bob Flick? Folks 
 is talkin' somethin' fierce. There's goin' to be trouble 
 sure." Her sparkling eyes expressed a relish of the 
 dramatic possibilities in the situation. " Maybe," doubt- 
 ingly, " Sadie can do somethin' with the Pearl when 
 she comes back; but it's sure that no one else can. 
 Somebody's goin' to tell Shock, sure as you're alive, 
 an' everybody's wondering who it'll be. Most likely one 
 of the boys '11 get drunk an' think it's his duty to speak 
 up. Oh, it's an awful thing ! " virtuously. " Bob, he's 
 one of the cold, reckless kind, an' the Pearl, she's one 
 of the hot, reckless kind. Lord ! " with a shiver of 
 pleasurable anticipation, " I'm scared." 
 
 " Yes, it's sure awful," assented Mrs. Evans absently. 
 " Come, Marthy," rising, " we got to go home an' put 
 the kids to bed. We got a hard day's work before us 
 to-morrow with Sadie, an' we'd better be gettin' a good 
 night's rest." 
 
 Frances strolled out onto her little bridge with her 
 departing guests. The night was like black velvet, set 
 thickly with the cold sparkle of stars. It seemed but a 
 moment after her visitors made their last adieux that 
 they were swallowed up in the gloom. Yet a few minutes 
 
 271
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 later she was surprised to hear the patter of Mrs. 
 Evans's feet on the bridge. 
 
 " I I sent Marthy on, Missioner, an' jus' come back 
 for a second." It was the only time Frances had ever 
 seen the assured Mrs. Evans in the least embarrassed. 
 " Missioner," even in* the dim light her cold little face 
 showed agitation. " Missioner, I wasn't goin' to say a 
 word to you, an* I made Marthy promise not to; but 
 there's a good deal of talk an' the bettin' stands even 
 on you an' the English girl. You know the folks at 
 Garvin'-s went away to-day; but some of the boys is 
 bettin' that Walt won't let her stay long." 
 
 "Betting! On me! And Miss Sourrier? " Frances 
 faltered, throwing back one arm and clutching the rail 
 for support. 
 
 For once Mrs. Evans forgot her diplomacy and 
 floundered in the bog of explanation. " Yes, as to 
 which'll get as to which Walt will as to which will 
 take Walt." 
 
 Frances's eyes blazed. Her mouth set in a bitter 
 smile. It was with evident difficulty that she main 
 tained her self-control; but she made no reply, only 
 stood gazing down into the depths of the noisy, rushing 
 stream. 
 
 After a moment of silence, Mrs. Evans stretched out 
 her hand and laid it on the other woman's arm, the first 
 demonstration of affection Frances had ever seen her 
 show to anyone. 
 
 " Missioner," earnestly, " I know it ain't nothin' but 
 gossip, I know how hard you're a-tryin' to save his 
 
 272
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 soul " ignoring Frances's protesting hand. " Yes, 
 
 I do. And there ain't no one that dares do any talkin' 
 to me. You don't know what you mean to some of us, 
 Missioner. You don't know what a comfort you are. 
 You've made us feel like we can always turn to you in 
 any of our troubles, no matter how fool they seem. All 
 our lives long, us women have been taught that when 
 things bothered us too much, we could go to a man in 
 a black coat an' a white choker, an' perhaps, a good 
 many of us found out that was all there was to his 
 spirituality. An' often as not, when you'd laid out your 
 poor, little troubles before him, lookin' like mountains 
 to you, you could see, for all he tried to hide it, that 
 they was just about the size of marbles to him. Then 
 he'd swell out his chest, an' talk pious to you down in 
 his throat, an' you usual went home feelin' like there 
 was no comfort nowheres, 'cause 'course you'd been 
 taught to believe that God's jus' a bigger man, an' you 
 felt sore at your heart an' like you wanted to kick your 
 self, that is, if you was strong. If you was a weak sis 
 ter an' wanted to be hectored, you took his words for 
 law an' gospel. 
 
 " Why, look here, Missioner ! Suppose you was a man. 
 Do you believe the trouble between me an' Sile would 
 ever have been patched up yet ? Not a bit of it ; but you 
 handled that job slick. God knows you did. An' ever 
 since, I been a-thinkin, a kind o' hopin', a 'most believin' 
 that it was a woman that was comin' some day to com 
 fort women. Not one of them mushy things that they 
 call all heart, an' that mourns with them that mourns, 
 
 273
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 like Marthy Thomas ; but a woman with a head as well 
 as a heart. A woman that knows enough to understand 
 things, that's had her experiences and knows where she 
 is at; that don't stand willing to cut the work she's 
 chose, for the first man that looks at her. Not that kind ; 
 but a woman that's onto things. Missioner, you don't 
 think I'm too fresh, do you? " taking alarm at Frances's 
 continued silence. " I don't mean to be no smart Aleck. 
 I oughtn't to have told you about that bettin'." 
 
 Mrs. Evans to plead! It smote Frances like a blow. 
 " I should think," she murmured in a muffled voice, 
 
 " I should think that my calling " she stopped 
 
 abruptly, too honest not to see the irony of claiming 
 protection from her calling, when she gave free rein to 
 conduct. 
 
 " But you ain't mad, Missioner? You forgive my 
 speakin' ? " 
 
 " Forgive ! " The shadow of a smile deepened the pain 
 of Frances's eyes. " Perhaps you are my best friend. 
 Perhaps in all the world you are my best friend." 
 
 A little later when Garvin strode up the hillside, his 
 heart singing the words he meant that his lips should 
 soon utter " They've gone, Missioner. Thank God 
 they've gone ! " he was surprised and immeasurably dis 
 appointed to find the windows of the little cabin dark. 
 Half-heartedly, he knocked once or twice upon the door 
 and then turned dejectedly away. Yet, had he but known 
 it, each rap had vibrated through the heart of the Mis 
 sionary, who crouched inside, her hand upon the latch, 
 ceaselessly and speechlessly murmuring : " A woman 
 
 274
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 that don't stand willing to cut the work she's chose for 
 the first man that looks at her." 
 
 It was dawn before, still dressed, she threw herself 
 upon her cot and almost immediately fell into the deep 
 sleep of exhaustion. But if she continued to sleep far 
 into the next morning, the village was early astir, for 
 Zenith was of course aware of the stand Mr. Nitschkan 
 had taken, and was fully determined to see the result of 
 the impending struggle for supremacy ; even though 
 discretion urged to view it from a safe seclusion. 
 
 There were some souls of excitable imagination who 
 predicted the complete demolishment of the Nitschkan 
 home before the argument was satisfactorily concluded. 
 But the public was doomed to disappointment in the 
 first instance as to any show of spectacular demonstra 
 tion on Mr. Nitschkan's part. 
 
 Carolling blithely and with no apparent premonition 
 of trouble, Mrs. Nitschkan arrived at her gate. Bob 
 with nimble fingers untied the frayed rope which held in 
 place that frail portal, and his mother, leading the 
 burros, passed through. No welcoming shouts of chil 
 dren greeted her; but the smoke curling whitely from 
 the chimney, and the unshuttered windows, proclaimed 
 the house inhabited. Otherwise there was no sign of life. 
 
 Within the kitchen, however, was a hastily assembled 
 council, consisting of Mrs. Evans, Mrs. Thomas and 
 Mrs. Landvetter. They sat about the stove, whereon 
 hissed a coffeepot, while Mr. Nitschkan strode restlessly 
 about the room. Mrs. Evans, who, in common with the 
 other women, appeared slightly paler than usual, with 
 
 275
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 a somewhat strained expression about the eyes, was just 
 about to pour herself a cup of coffee, when there came 
 a thunderous knocking upon the door, causing her hand 
 to shake so violently that she spilled half the contents 
 of the pot on the floor. 
 
 " Now, Jack," she cautioned, as Mr. Nitschkan stood 
 irresolute, " remember, you got to be firm. Give her a 
 good fright an' make her promise there shan't be no 
 more gipsyin' in hers 'fore you let her in." 
 
 " At least till the kids is old enough to go with her," 
 added Mrs. Thomas sotto voce. 
 
 Nitschkan approached the window and pulling down 
 the small, upper sash, leaned his elbows upon it and 
 thrust out his bearded face. 
 
 " Hello, Jack," called his wife cheerily, " the door's 
 stuck. Pull it open f er me, will you ? " 
 
 " The door ain't stuck, Sadie," remarked Mr. Nitsch 
 kan, with solemn severity ; " it's locked, an' it's locked 
 a-purpose." 
 
 " Locked a-purpose ! " echoed Sadie, pausing in her 
 efforts to enter and peering at him as if she doubted 
 the evidence of her senses. " Well, it had better get un 
 locked mighty quick then, 'fore I sail in. That's all I 
 got to say." 
 
 " Be firm, Jack, you're a-doin' splendid," encouraged 
 Mrs. Evans. 
 
 " It'll stay locked," repeated Mr. Nitschkan slowly 
 and impressively, " until you promise me that onct an' 
 f er all you're done with this gipsyin' that's made you the 
 talk of the camp." 
 
 276
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan turned suddenly and gazed at her 
 lord and master, with shrewd and twinkling eyes. 
 
 " Who's in there with you Jack? " she asked quickly. 
 "Effie Evans an' Marthy Thomas, I'll bet my 
 head." 
 
 Nitschkan ignored the question, and scowled darkly 
 at the blue ridges of the mountains beyond him. 
 
 His wife laughed uproariously. " Oh, Effie Evans ! " 
 she called breezily through the keyhole. " Wait till you 
 want help in some little game, an' then see where you're 
 at! Is old fat pillow of a Landvetter in there, too? 
 'Course ; I kin smell the coffee. An' dear little Marthy ! " 
 she lisped affectedly. " Here Bob, boy ! " turning to her 
 son, " get the axe offen Jerry an' Mommie'll break the 
 door." 
 
 Mr. Nitschkan turned apprehensively to the council 
 about the stove. 
 
 " Tell her," commanded Mrs. Evans, with a pale 
 smile of triumph, " that if she does, it'll be the winter 
 talk in the camp, how you turned her out. Stand pat 
 now, Jack, an' you've got her." 
 
 "Folks won't be talkin' of nothin' else all winter, 
 Sadie, if you break that door in," admonished her hus 
 band, returning to the window. " They'll say I turned 
 you off." 
 
 " That's true enough," acquiesced Sadie, pausing in 
 her operations. This sweet reasonableness on her part 
 caused the ladies about the stove to exchange alarmed 
 glances. " Well, Bob," with what was apparently a sigh 
 of capitulation, " I guess there ain't nothin' fer you 
 
 277
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 an' me to do but camp in the yard. Get to work an' 
 we'll unload the burros." 
 
 " Come away from that window, Jack, an' don't take 
 no notice of her," adjured Mrs. Evans, who had watched 
 with growing uneasiness Nitschkan's increasing interest 
 in the unpacking going on without. 
 
 But he was deaf to admonitions. " Lord ! she's got a 
 good bear's skin, an' some mighty nice lookin' venison." 
 
 " Ain't that jus' like a man, an' after all we done 
 f er him, too ! " Mrs. Thomas sunk her voice to a dis 
 gusted whisper. " We jus' got to get him away from 
 there." 
 
 "Jack, remember what you been through," she 
 pleaded, her hand upon his arm. 
 
 " I sure got to show her I'm master here," he said 
 firmly, but as though repeating a lesson which had lost 
 its first, fresh significance. " That's what I got to do." 
 
 " You bet you have, Jack," urged the ladies. 
 
 " Oh, Jack, Jack," called Sadie's voice outside. " I 
 seen the Weeks boys in North Park an' they told me how 
 they got eren at last with the Thompson tribe. It would 
 make a kiote laugh to hear tell of it." 
 
 A slow grin overspread Mr. Nitschkan's face. " Did 
 you hear that ? " he asked the council. " The Weekses 
 have got even at last with them Thompsons. Gosh! I'd 
 like to know how ! " 
 
 " Say, Jack, come to the window and see this mess 
 of trout. Bob, boy, build Mommie a fire, an' she'll get 
 some of 'em ready now. Here ! " The rollicking, con 
 tagious laughter echoed without, as she held up a fish 
 
 278
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 for her husband's inspection. The sunlight fell upon 
 its speckled sides, and as Sadie drew out the sedgy grass 
 with which it was stuffed, Nitschkan sighed audibly: 
 
 " Nice, fresh trout, an' Sadie kin fry 'em to a turn," 
 he muttered wistfully. 
 
 " Now, Jack, you want to be firm," reminded Mrs. 
 Thomas. " You don't want to be led away from your 
 duty by no such vanities as trout an' venison." 
 
 Deaf to her words, he edged nearer the window. 
 " She's got somethin' in a handkercher," in a tense 
 whisper. 
 
 Seductively near drew Mrs. Nitschkan. 
 
 " Jack, Jack," holding up some objects tied in a red 
 bandana handkerchief. " Oh, Jack ! " she teased. 
 " You'd give them pop eyes of yourn to know what I 
 got in here. Look," untying the knots of the hand 
 kerchief and holding up three or four gleaming nug 
 gets in her hand, " what do you think of this ? Free 
 gold, Jack, free gold! An' this nice little piece of 
 peacock ! " 
 
 Mr. Nitschkan breathed hard. "Who passed 'em 
 along to you, Sadie ? " he asked with an attempt at 
 carelessness. 
 
 " OP Mr. Rock give 'em to me," she laughed. " I 
 staked out a nice little claim or so, Jack, an' posted my 
 notice all right, you bet." 
 
 " Hand 'em up, Sadie, to let me see," Nitschkan 
 stretched out itching figers, " or wait wait till I unbar 
 the door." 
 
 He tore at the lock. " Come on in, Sadie," as the 
 279
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 door swung back. " The the girls " becoming aware 
 of his advisers in the background " the girls is here 
 to welcome you." Then he fled. 
 
 Cornered, routed, but defiant, the council stood. The 
 guard might die ; but there was " no surrender " writ 
 ten on every line of the firm little face of Mrs. Evans 
 as she stood with folded arms, facing her friend. 
 
 Mrs. Landvetter, glancing up from the depths of her 
 rocking chair, went on with her knitting ; Mrs. Thomas, 
 on the contrary, bustled about with a busy show of 
 occupation. 
 
 " I'll pour you a steamin' cup of coffee this minute, 
 Sadie. Mis' Landvetter, will you pass me the cream 
 jug," she babbled, and then encountering Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan's glance, she sank down upon a stool and began to 
 weep. 
 
 The mountain woman stood in the doorway, her head 
 lowered, her right arm with its tightened fist swinging 
 back and forth by her side. All the easy good nature 
 had vanished from her face. 
 
 "Where's my kids, Effie Evans?" Her voice was 
 hoarse. 
 
 " They're to my house, Sadie Nitschkan," laconic 
 ally, coolly. 
 
 "What fer?" like the shot of a pistol. 
 
 " To keep 'em out of the way while we got Jack to 
 scare you a spell." 
 
 The pathos of a betrayed trust was in Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan's eyes. " I'm a-goin' to drive you all outen here 
 in about a minute," slowly rolling up her sleeves, " with 
 
 280
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 some marks on you that you didn't have when you 
 come; but first, I'm going to know what you done it 
 for. You an' me, Effie Evans, has hung together for 
 ten years. Your wits and my fists has made us the 
 leaders of society in Zenith, an' up to a minute ago 
 I'd 'a' done up anybody that'd say you wasn't a white 
 woman." 
 
 The tiny beads of sweat were standing out on Mrs. 
 Evans's brow; but her eyes never wavered from the 
 other woman's face. 
 
 " I couldn't stand your kids, Sadie Nitschkan ; two 
 months an' more of 'em has drove me wild ! " 
 
 " My kids ! " with infinite surprise. " Why, they's 
 no better behaved young ones anywhere." 
 
 Mrs. Thomas suddenly ceased her convulsive sobbing. 
 " Supposin', Sadie Nitschkan," she cried. " Supposin' 
 you had to look after Mis' Evans's, or Mis' Landvetter's 
 kids fer two or three months? " 
 
 A faint smile twinkled in Mrs. Nitschkan's eyes. 
 " Oh, Marthy," she mocked, " ask me somep'n easy. 
 Why, I'd 'a' broke their heads, that's what I'd 'a' done. 
 But say, my children wasn't that bad ? Speak up, Land- 
 vetter ; they wasn't as bad as the Thomas or Evans kids 
 now, was they? " 
 
 " Dey vas vorse," affirmed Mrs. Landvetter. " Ten 
 t'ousand times vorse as de Thomases or Effenses. Mein 
 vas goot." 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan fell against the door, the tears trick 
 ling down her cheeks, her laughter ringing through the 
 cabin. "It's all right, girls," buoyantly, boisterously, 
 
 281
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 and accepting the olive branch of a cup of tea which 
 Mrs. Thomas made haste to offer. "We'll let bygones 
 be bygones." 
 
 Then with the elaborate courtesy usual from the vic 
 torious general to his defeated opponents : " You girls 
 must V done slick work to get Jack to act like he done ; 
 but where you slipped up, women dear, was in miscal- 
 culatin' the heart of man."
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 M RS. NITSCHKAN spent the entire day after her 
 return in various household activities ; but toward 
 evening she decided to call upon the Black Pearl, who 
 for some reason had not been among those to bid her 
 welcome during the day. So, her curiosity aroused, she 
 betook herself to the O'Brien cottage soon after supper. 
 
 Involuntarily she paused at the gate, struck by some 
 thing indescribably neglected and forlorn in the air of 
 the whole place. The flowers drooped dustily in the gar 
 den; the door, usually so hospitably open, was barred; 
 the blinds were drawn before the closed windows. 
 
 The gipsy considered a moment or two, and then 
 curiosity getting the better of her, she unlatched 
 the little white gate and walked up the path with its 
 glaring, scentless border of scarlet geraniums and yel 
 low zinnias. She knocked loudly once or twice, and fail 
 ing to elicit an answer, forced an entrance at the kitchen 
 door. Here a sight met her eyes which caused her to 
 raise her hands with a loud " Gosh a'mighty ! " 
 
 The room was in appalling disorder. A cloth had 
 been half dragged from the table scattered with food, 
 while the floor was covered with pots, pans and broken 
 dishes. After one comprehensive glance, Mrs. Nitsch- 
 kan made her way to an inner room. There she stood 
 on the threshold peering about her until her eyes became 
 
 283
 
 accustomed to the darkness. Then she dimly discerned 
 a black, huddled shape on the bed, and her gaze was 
 caught and held by the smouldering, sullen fire of two 
 dark eyes. 
 
 " Pearl ? " she asked uncertainly. 
 
 The woman on the bed did not answer, only gazed at 
 her in silence. 
 
 " Pearl, air you sick? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 Mrs. Nitschkan threw the windows wide, and then 
 bent over her friend. 
 
 "Now, Pearl, you speak up. What's the matter? 
 Air you sick? " 
 
 " I'm a-goin' to kill him," whispered the woman on 
 the bed. " He beat me last night, an' he wasn't jealous. 
 He come home with all the devils in hell in his face. 
 When I set him out his supper he threw the vittles all 
 over the place, an' said it wasn't fit f er dogs to eat ; an' 
 then he beat me." 
 
 " Gosh a'mighty ! An' you the best cook in the 
 camp ! He must 'a' been crazy drunk," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Nitschkan indignantly. 
 
 " He wasn't drunk an' he wasn't jealous. He wasn't 
 jealous, an' he beat me, me," she raised herself with 
 difficulty in the bed, and lifted her stag-like head 
 superbly. 
 
 " Air you hurt, Pearl ? " anxiously. 
 
 " Am I hurt? Am I hurt? Oh, that a-way. Yes, I 
 guess so. Come to think of it, there ain't a inch on me 
 that don't ache. I guess none of my bones is broke, 
 
 284
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 though. But he'll get it." She half drew her hand from 
 under the pillow, disclosing the sharp, keen edge of 
 steel. " That's the medicine he's a-goin' to get. I'm 
 a-goin' to knife him, sure." 
 
 " Now, Pearl/' remonstrated Mrs. Nitschkan 
 severely, " that ain't no way to talk. You're all right 
 to get even with him, but you mustn't forget a thing 
 or two. Us ladies here in Zenith has overlooked your 
 past 'cause you're a decent married woman now, with a 
 ring on your finger, an' a certificate framed on the 
 wall. Now you go to knifin' him an' it'll be a disgrace 
 to the whole camp. What I say, an' what I always says 
 in such cases is, ' get even with him, an' get even with 
 him good; but for the Lord's sake, do it ladylike.' 
 Heave skillets an' stove lids at him all you're a mind to ; 
 but throw that knife away." 
 
 The Pearl looked at her a moment or two with 
 sullen, contemptuous eyes. " Shut up," she commanded, 
 " I'm tired of hearin' you talk." 
 
 " Here, here," admonished Mrs. Nitschkan. " Now 
 I'll hustle around and make you a good, strong cup of 
 coffee. There's nothin' like it fer soul an' body. You'll 
 feel better then. Then we'll get your clothes off, an' a 
 nightgown on, an' we'll see where you're hurted." 
 
 "Where I'm hurted?" repeated Pearl, her vague 
 eyes more veiled, more tragically mysterious than ever. 
 " I'm hurted so deep that you can't find it, Sadie 
 Nitschkan." 
 
 "Aw, come now, we'll have you all right in a jiffy, 
 an' Shock a-hangin' 'round cryin' over you, an' beatin' 
 
 285
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 his chest in that crazy French way of his'n. Now you 
 lay still an' I'll heat up some water." 
 
 She bustled about making a fire, preparing coffee 
 and putting the place in order, when her attention was 
 suddenly arrested by the sound of flying footsteps on 
 the path outside. Then a thunderous knocking, and be 
 fore she could reach the door, it was burst open, and 
 a white-faced boy stuttered on the threshold : " Mis' 
 O'Brien, Mis' O'Brien, Bob Flick's shot Shock up at 
 Johnson's an' he wants you quick." 
 
 The Pearl had leaped to her feet, casting her knife 
 from her, and before Sadie Nitschkan could reach her 
 she was flying up the mountain road. 
 
 A tiny crescent moon was swinging far up in the pale 
 sky. On the platform before the saloon was a black 
 group of men, who made way for the Pearl as she darted 
 through them. The doctor was bending over Jacques, 
 who lay in an open space where the air might reach him. 
 The Pearl dropped beside him, her face to his for a 
 moment, and then she lifted him to her heart. 
 
 " Shock, Shock," she moaned. 
 
 " Pearl," he whispered, his accent more marked than 
 ever, " it wasn't the vittles. I heard straight that Flick 
 was after you, an' I was jealous mad. I tried to get him 
 first ; but he pulled his gun too quick for me." 
 
 " Oh, Shock ! I never cared for nobody really but 
 you." 
 
 A faint reflection of his charming smile flickered over 
 his face. " I know it," he said. " You you always 
 talked about being free, Pearl. I guess you're free at 
 
 286
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 last." He smiled again and then lay heavily on her 
 heart. 
 
 For a moment while she held him closely to her breast, 
 her eyes showed some ecstatic illumination, as if she had 
 followed him to the vast and illimitable spaces her 
 spirit craved. Then the shackles of that desolate sem 
 blance of reality which she knew as life fell about her 
 again. 
 
 " Free ! " she cried in the voice of one who faces the 
 terrible nemesis of a granted desire. " Free ! " her 
 anguished eyes challenged the grave group of men 
 about her. " There ain't no such damned word fer a 
 woman that kin love." 
 
 287
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 lYlADE aware of the tragedy which had occurred in 
 the village by various swift-footed messengers, who 
 showed the usual alacrity of swift-footed messengers in 
 purveying evil tidings, Frances had twice during the 
 night been to the O'Brien cottage ; but the Black Pearl 
 had persistently refused to see her, and had had conveyed 
 to her in no uncertain terms that she had no desire to 
 profit by any of the stock of comfort or consolation 
 that Frances, or any other spiritual adviser might have 
 on hand. 
 
 The following morning the Missionary sat in her 
 doorway, her head bent over some sewing and her face 
 sad and troubled. The circumstance of O'Brien's death 
 had shocked her indescribably and it continued to 
 occupy her thoughts to such an extent that she was 
 almost oblivious of Angel, who had paid Frances one of 
 her rare visits that morning, and, after a cursory and 
 indifferent survey of the cabin and its occupant, had 
 betaken herself to a tree, and now sat perched on a 
 bough of one of the quivering aspens near the door. 
 The golden leaves fluttered restlessly about her or 
 floated dreamily through the sun-warmed November air. 
 
 A sad-faced monkey with the world-weariness of ages 
 in its eyes, gibbered and chattered on a branch above 
 her or occupied itself sufficiently in frightening, with 
 
 288
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 sly malice, the bluejays and magpies which exchanged 
 raucous comments on its behaviour. 
 
 Presently Angel slid down the tree to the infinite 
 detriment of her frock, a consideration which never 
 suggested itself to her, and seated herself beside 
 Frances, as if, for once in a way, she felt the need of 
 human companionship. This was somewhat surprising, 
 as, being a person of infinite resource herself, she de 
 pended on no one for entertainment or amusement. 
 
 " I'd rather hear squirrels and birds talk dan people," 
 she finally announced. 
 
 " Squirrels and birds can't talk," said Frances 
 abstractedly. 
 
 " Dey can too," affirmed Angel, with placid assur 
 ance. " Dat's all you know. Dey tell me funny things. 
 So do Hurry-Scurry," pointing to her monkey. She ap 
 peared to meditate a few moments. " I went into the 
 woods an' heard Mis' O'Brien talk. She talks sis way: 
 ' I'm awful sorry, honest I am, Bob ; but I couldn't 
 go.'" 
 
 Frances could not repress the start which was involun 
 tary with her, at any of Angel's impersonations, they 
 were so curiously life-like. You had but to shut your 
 eyes to see the Black Pearl standing before you; for 
 her soft, sliding voice was very perfectly reproduced 
 by the child. 
 
 Angel, flattered as ever by spontaneous appreciation, 
 whenever she chose to exhibit her gifts, prepared to 
 further dazzle her audience. " An' Bob Flick say sis 
 way: 
 
 289
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " * I always wanted you, Pearl. I'd a stole an' lied, 
 an' fought for you, too. See? Will you come down the 
 trail wif me next Thursday ? ' : 
 
 " I told Herries, an' he laughed sis way : * Ho, ho, 
 ho!"' 
 
 Herries's harsh laughter, more bitter, more sardonic 
 than ever, rang from her lips. 
 
 Frances shivered. " Don't, Angel," she cried sharply. 
 " It sounds horrible. Where did you hear such gibber 
 ish? Has someone been teaching you a play?" 
 
 But Angel only smiled after her own inscrutable 
 fashion, and dragging White Puppy toward her, began 
 to instruct him in the painful act of standing on his 
 hind legs. 
 
 From time to time during the day, the child's words 
 recurred to Frances and she found herself pondering 
 over them, vaguely troubled and distressed by them, and 
 yet, failing to attach any definite meaning to Angel's 
 disjointed phrases. 
 
 In the afternoon Carrothers stopped at the cabin 
 door. He spoke at once of the village tragedy, and 
 seemed rather troubled over it in a vague and indecisive 
 way, and at the same time rather self-congratulatory in 
 an equally vague and indecisive way that he was not 
 of that breed of men to whom violent passions brought 
 violent reckonings. 
 
 " Have you been able to see our sister I mean the 
 erring woman who is responsible for this tragedy? " he 
 asked Frances. 
 
 " No." She shook her head. 
 290
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 " I have," importance and resentment struggling for 
 mastery. " She is more hardened than I could have be 
 lieved." A flush rose on his cheek. " I I was treated 
 with contumely." 
 
 Frances's lips curved in a faint, ironic smile. She 
 could well imagine it. 
 
 " It's a solemn thing to think of the state of such 
 souls." But his tone was mollified; the swift vision of 
 retribution was evidently comforting. " And, oh, Mis- 
 sioner, I saw Mr. Herries a few moments this afternoon 
 and was struck by his manner and appearance. What 
 ails him? " 
 
 " Mr. Herries ? " Frances lifted her head quickly. 
 " Is he ill ? Why, he would surely have let me know ! " 
 
 " He didn't seem ill," explained Carrothers conscien 
 tiously. " He seemed to be labouring with some distress 
 of mind which he tried, I thought, to hide from me." 
 
 Frances rolled up her work. " I think, if you will 
 excuse me," she said, rising, " I will go up to his cabin 
 and see is he ill or in trouble. He may need me or, 
 wait " 
 
 She ran inside and fetched the little whistle which 
 Herries had given her long ago. Twice she blew on it, 
 and then, shading her eyes with her hand, peered curi 
 ously up the trail to the old Scotchman's cabin ; but he 
 did not appear in the doorway and hasten down the hill 
 as was his wont when she thus summoned him. 
 
 Really worried now, she lost no time in climbing the 
 hill to his hut. The door stood open, swinging back and 
 forth on its hinges. Within, the room was disorderly; 
 
 291
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 the fire out in the stove, and there were no traces of any 
 food having been prepared that day. 
 
 Frances, feeling more puzzled than ever, pencilled a 
 little note and leaving it on the table, closed the door 
 behind her and retraced her steps homeward. There 
 seemed, for the moment, nothing else to do; but she 
 could not rid herself of the feeling of apprehension and 
 worry; and when Garvin sat in her little living room 
 that evening she confided her feeling to him. He attrib 
 uted this entirely to the shock she had suffered the 
 night before, and its corresponding effect on her nerves. 
 
 " The old man is all right," he assured her, " but 
 I will go up to his shanty after I leave you, and if he is 
 not there, I will either look him up myself or have some 
 one else do so. There, will that satisfy you ? Believe me, 
 nothing can happen to Herries." 
 
 " I know I'm foolish," she said deprecatingly, 
 " but " 
 
 " Ah, Missioner," he besought, using that term as 
 playfully as always, and yet speaking with real earnest 
 ness, " forget Herries, forget this ugly affair of the 
 O'Briens, forget all these people who come and make 
 demands on you, and give me this evening. Think only 
 of me and of yourself." 
 
 She smiled at him, that delightful smile which al 
 ways struck one afresh with its tenderness and charm. 
 
 " You have been hard on me since my friends went 
 away," drawing his chair near to her and taking her 
 hands closely in his. " You have scarcely given me a 
 minute, and you're always ready to give any old tramp 
 
 292
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 that wants it, all the minutes he or she may ask; and 
 no one craves your minutes as I do, Frances, or prizes 
 them half so much." His voice fell into deep and tender 
 intonations. " Ah, Frances, I never knew any woman 
 like you I've always known the other kind and a new 
 life has begun for me. Why, life, my life, that I thought 
 about lived, is new and fresh through my love for you. 
 I can't understand it. It's the most wonderful trans 
 forming and renewing of energy that ever happened. 
 A few months ago I was tired, cynical; life was half, 
 or perhaps more than half lived, and it did not matter, 
 for it held nothing that I really cared for. I was con 
 scious, fully conscious, of the power that was in my 
 hands through my money, and to save myself, I couldn't 
 care a rap about it. There was nothing it could buy me 
 that I really wanted. And then I met you. I loved 
 you." He laid his cheek against her hands folded in his. 
 " I loved you from the first ; and I'm young again. 
 Why, it's the fate of a god ! " His face was touched 
 with a pale and glowing enthusiasm. " I'm young, 
 ambitious, the world's a world of illusions. I believe in 
 good because I believe in you. I have experience, great 
 wealth, revived interest. What may I not do now, 
 Frances ! " His voice thrilled with triumphant rap 
 ture. 
 
 His words lifted her into the very heart of the 
 splendid worlds; the ivory gates swung wide; but on 
 those fair sun-lighted shores she became suddenly con 
 scious of the menacing surf of a great ocean, the ocean 
 of pain, and she seemed to hear through the pleasing 
 
 293
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 of all delicate and harmonious sounds the cries of the 
 shipwrecked. 
 
 " You do love me, Frances ? You will marry me ? " 
 His words came to her as from far away, and muffled 
 by the roar of the mighty sea. 
 
 And now the delicate and harmonious sounds swelled 
 also to an ocean, and between the roar of the opposing 
 surges, the surges of the ocean of pain and the ocean 
 of joy, she became bewildered and confused beyond 
 speech. 
 
 She struggled to her feet; he saw that her face was 
 deadly white, and she pressed her hands to her eyes. 
 
 " To-morrow," she whispered, pleadingly. " I I 
 can't " 
 
 " You are tired out," he murmured. " These merci 
 less people. They draw and draw and draw on you. 
 Well, we'll put a stop to that. I am going now, and you 
 are to rest, Frances, to take a long rest and let no one 
 disturb you. Will you promise me that ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " And I will not come, I promise you, before to 
 morrow evening. No, that is so long to-morrow after 
 noon." 
 
 She smiled faintly. "To-morrow afternoon." 
 
 But in spite of her promise, she rested but little that 
 night, for on the golden sands of all her splendid worlds 
 there still beat the low, terrible surges of the ocean of 
 pain, and through crowding and glorious visions, she 
 saw the face of Herries turned to her and he, who 
 never asked, besought help and comfort. 
 
 294
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 Finding it impossible to sleep, she arose very early 
 and made her way up to the old man's cabin, and there, 
 to her relief, she found him. The light was just glim 
 mering over the hills as she threw wider the half open 
 door. He sat alone, in the shadows, his head sunk on 
 his breast. His face had sharpened visibly, the outline 
 more cameo-like than ever, and his skin had acquired a 
 strange, blue pallor; the bitter lines about the mouth 
 had also deepened perceptibly. 
 
 " Mr. Herries," cried Frances from the doorway ; 
 but he looked at her without response, looked at her un 
 flinchingly, and yet, as if she were but another of the 
 many phantoms of the night come to mock him. She 
 went forward and kneeling beside him, took in hers his 
 cold hands. " Mr. Herries," she implored, " what is 
 it?" 
 
 He looked at her a few minutes in silence. 
 
 " It was I I who killed O'Brien," he muttered at 
 last. " I saw Bob Flick and the Pearl meeting day 
 after day. I sent Angel into the pines to listen to them 
 I went myself I told O'Brien I knew how mad and 
 jealous he was, but I told him." 
 
 Frances shrank from him, her face white. " You told 
 him ! " she whispered. " You told him ! Why ? " 
 
 " God knows why I persuaded myself that he ought 
 to know, that it was right that I should tell him ; but I 
 know now that it was the devil in me. I'd got so that 
 I couldn't believe in God or man, and the black malice 
 in my heart had to take shape and strike ; but I believed 
 in you, Missioner, I believed in you and I'd made up 
 
 295
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 my mind to come to you before I spoke to O'Brien. 
 Then I looked through your window, and I saw you 
 sitting there with Garvin, with a smile on your lips and 
 a bunch of roses, red roses on your breast and I 
 turned away. Why should I spoil your happiness?" 
 
 Frances crouched, almost cringed on the floor beside 
 him in silence. 
 
 " Aye, shrink from me," he cried. " You're right. I 
 ask no forgiveness." 
 
 " Forgiveness ! Forgiveness ! " she cried poignantly. 
 " Oh, can you ever forgive me ? " She got to her feet, a 
 curious blank, almost blind look in her eyes, and drifted 
 through the door. Out on the hillside, she walked on 
 and on, indifferent, unconscious of the direction she 
 took, until wearied, she sank down beneath a tree and 
 sat there for a long time, brooding, motionless. At last 
 she arose and walked, though wearily, on up the hill. 
 
 296
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 1 T was one of those soft, dull, dim days when the grey 
 sky seems to melt by imperceptible gradations into a 
 grey and toneless earth. November in the mountains. 
 
 The afternoon was at hand when Garvin would seek 
 his answer, and Frances was far from her cabin. Ever 
 since she had left Herri es she had wandered on up the 
 trails through mists, alone in a great, unreal world. It 
 was as if the vast and solitary mountains demanded se 
 clusion for some high communion, and before exhibiting 
 themselves in the clear sunlight of self-revelation, with 
 drew for a period of mysterious meditation. The 
 dimmed distances were blue, a smoke-like and blurred 
 blue; the leafless branches interlaced their fine criss 
 cross of twigs against this unsubstantial background, 
 the pines were strong, green masses, the green acquir 
 ing new depth and vividness from the mist-sea on which 
 they floated. 
 
 A fine rain fell; but Frances ignored it, and walked 
 on until she reached a level plateau known to her, and 
 covered with low, twisted, wind-bent pines. There she 
 stopped suddenly, for sitting on a great, wet rock 
 was the Black Pearl. 
 
 Unconscious of Frances's approach, she sat gazing 
 down at the clouds which lay between her and the val 
 ley. Her gown was open at the throat as if she had
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 pulled it apart for more air ; her burnt-umber hair was 
 almost slipping down her back; there were sagging 
 pouches of loose skin under her ejes and her firm, 
 rounded chin. 
 
 She remained oblivious of the Missionary's approach 
 until Frances touched her lightly on the arm. Then she 
 turned with a quick frown, " Oh," with dull petulance ; 
 *' it's you, Missioner." 
 
 " Yes." Frances sat down on the rock beside her and 
 passed her hand over the Pearl's hair and shoulders: 
 " Why, Mrs. O'Brien, how long have you been sit 
 ting here? Your hair is soaking wet and so is your 
 dress." 
 
 " Oh, yes it's been wet, I suppose," impatiently. 
 "What's the difference? Say, Missioner," clasping her 
 hands around her knees and drawing her feet further 
 up on the rocks. " It's an awful thing to think, ain't it ? 
 I ain't never had any education except what I picked up 
 from the boys, and I don't suppose I know much; but 
 I always been a-thinkin' an' a-studyin' about things. 
 Now take the ladies down there in Zenith. They're con 
 tent managin' their own affairs and other people's. 
 They don't care for anything that don't concern their 
 eatin' and drinkin', their kids an' their husbands; but 
 if you once get to studyin' about life, Missioner, you 
 can't stop. You got to go on thinkin', an' it haunts you 
 night an' day. You can't get away from it; it's like a 
 great wheel that's always a-turnin', an' you see the 
 awful misery, jus' sufferin', sufferin' everywhere. An' 
 people talk an' tell you the Lord loves 'em's the reason 
 
 298
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 he's torturin' their souls an' bodies. An' you know it's 
 lies, lies. God, Missioner ! I feel every minute like I got 
 to fling myself off these rocks." 
 
 In her little cabin, Garvin was waiting for her answer, 
 even now. This was the one swift thought that flashed 
 across Frances Benson's mind. This was the day of 
 which she had dreamed, the birthday of her life, a day 
 of vast and sunlighted spaces, of peacock thrones and 
 gold and purple decorations; down the hill, love, home, 
 companionship awaited her, and her whole spent being 
 longed for them ; but the natural impulse to help, en 
 forced and strengthened by years of training, asserted 
 itself imperatively. She did not think of setting another 
 season for the Pearl's consolation. The peacock thrones, 
 the birthday celebration must wait. The softness faded 
 from her eyes, the weary lines from her face. Her figure 
 involuntarily straightened itself. She was a soldier on 
 guard now, and this was the firing line. 
 
 Without conscious thought, but by mere intuitive 
 perception of the only way to meet the situation, she 
 threw herself into the other woman's mood. 
 
 " Pearl, it's a wheel, as you say, a great wheel that's 
 always turning and crushing the lives of men and women 
 and little children. And it's crueler than death and the 
 grave, unless you see it right. I can't see it right, 
 either, just now, Pearl," the cry came from her soul; 
 " but," the old mystic glow in her eyes, " I know it, 
 even if I can't see it. It's all love and beauty." 
 
 The haggard woman twitched her shoulders restlessly 
 from Frances's encircling arm. " I know," with a con- 
 
 299
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 temptuous curl of the lip, " that's what Ethel's been 
 a-tellin' me. Ethel with her Salvation Army talk! Say, 
 Missioner," breaking away from the thread of her own 
 despairing musings for a moment and speaking with 
 earnestness and appreciation : " You certainly done the 
 white thing by Ethel. She was tellin' me the other day 
 how she stole that money from the Army, an' how you 
 comforted her an' give her the cash out of your own 
 pocket to pay it. Do you think if I didn't know how 
 you done things like that, that I'd sit here an' listen 
 to you talk? I've heard too much talk in my life. An' 
 that Lunger Preacher Carrothers he come to me an' 
 handed out somethin' about repentin', I believe, an' 
 some thief or other on the cross. I didn't pay much 
 attention to him; I ain't no thief. It's all of a piece 
 with what the Padre used to tell me down in the desert, 
 an* it's all lies. There ain't no justice." She dropped 
 her head on her knees and the long, wet strands of her 
 hair fell about her. 
 
 For a moment Frances turned her puzzled gaze down 
 into the valley of clouds, then lifted them to the grey, 
 bending, unsubstantial skies. Into her brooding eyes 
 there flashed a sudden illumination like the gleam of fire 
 on steel. 
 
 " Pearl," she cried, and her face was stern, " don't 
 you say that ! You're a living proof that there is justice. 
 Preacher comes to you, Ethel comes to you, I come, 
 offering what comfort we can, and we sit and talk to 
 you and every word we say falls on deaf ears. Why? 
 Because what you sow you reap ; and you've sowed hell, 
 
 300
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 Pearl, and you've got to reap it. You can't get out of 
 prison till you've paid the last farthing, and it's no use 
 trying. You can't break the bars and crawl out, paying 
 fifty cents on the dollar; it's dollar for dollar; be 
 cause it's justice. 
 
 " What have you been doing all your life, Pearl ? 
 You've been sowing the wind. The Black Pearl ! That's 
 what they've called you, and that's what you've been, 
 and you've dragged plenty down with you. But you 
 haven't been happy because you can think, and what 
 has been the misery of your life is going to be the 
 thing that will save you. You're black, but you're a 
 pearl still, and pearl means white. You've got to see 
 it that way. You've been throwing dice with sin all 
 your life, and sin's let you win; but it's taking its 
 wages now, and the wages is death." 
 
 The Pearl had lifted her head, and now she sat star 
 ing at the stern-voiced Missionary. " Yes," she nodded, 
 " its wages has sure been death." 
 
 " But, Pearl," the voice thrilled with tenderness, 
 " you've suffered enough to pay your debts to sin ; now 
 turn around and pay yourself." 
 
 "To myself? Debts to me?" 
 
 " Yes. The biggest debt you owe is to yourself, to 
 the white side of you, the side that can think; for do 
 not dream that you can ever get out of paying those 
 debts. You can't. It isn't any use trying." 
 
 " God ! If I ain't paid for my sins, I'd like to know 
 who has ! " It was an exceeding bitter cry. 
 
 " Then leave them." The Missionary's tone was a 
 301
 
 command. " Leave them and begin to see yourself as 
 white, not black." 
 
 The Pearl clutched Frances's arm tensely, her face 
 broke up, rivers of tears poured from her eyes. 
 " Them's the only words that's reached me. There 
 wasn't a mite of comfort for me in anything the others 
 said, not a mite. But," and her face fell, " it's all right 
 to tell me that black's to turn around and be white ; but 
 how am I goin' to do it ? " 
 
 " Don't you suppose," asked Frances, " that there 
 are others in the world just as bad and just as suf 
 fering as you? Isn't it true that you could understand 
 and help those that have lived the same life that you 
 have, and have had the same things to meet ? " 
 
 " I might try," said Pearl, a new light in her eyes ; 
 " but it would be easier to die." 
 
 "Yes; but you've got to live. There's justice, jus 
 tice at the heart of the universe, and you've got to pay 
 the debt to yourself." 
 
 " Is it true ? " she still doubted. " It sounds like 
 sense to me; it's kind o' plain; but is it true? " 
 
 " Yes, it's true, and I'll never leave you, Pearl, till I 
 prove it to you." 
 
 " You swear that?" again clutching her. 
 
 " Yes, I swear it." 
 
 The Pearl stood up. " I kin breathe now," she said. 
 " I tell you what, Missioner, I ain't one to do anything 
 half-hearted. If there's any white to me I'm goin' to 
 find it. Where are you goin' ? " as Frances rose from 
 the rock and took a step or two forward. 
 
 302
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 " Further up the trail. There's something in my 
 mind that I want to think out, so I'm going to say 
 good-bye now to the white Pearl." 
 
 They parted, the trail Frances followed leading 
 further on up toward the summit of the mountain. It 
 seemed more wet and slippery than before and she 
 stumbled once or twice and fell on her knees. Mechan 
 ically she brushed off her skirt and went on. 
 
 It was not until she reached timber line that she 
 paused. Above her were the great, bare rocks and 
 boulders, and crowning them the sharp, cold peaks. 
 
 Here the fine rain had ceased to fall. The sky, al 
 though still a dense grey, seemed no longer to blend 
 with the mists and to bend so near that one might 
 touch it. It was further away, quite far above even 
 the peaks, and had begun to change like a faintly tinted 
 opal, as if behind its dim, opaque density there were 
 gold and flame and blue. For a long time Frances 
 gazed at the still white peaks; then, as her glance 
 travelled downward, she saw Garvin climbing the hill. 
 
 " I stopped at the cabin," he said, when he reached 
 her, " but you were not there, so I came on up, further 
 and further, until I met the Pearl, and she said you had 
 come up this trail. Mercy, what a climb ! Why did you 
 run away, Frances ? " His eyes were full of a tender re 
 proach. " I couldn't sit in the cabin and wait for you. 
 I had to find you. Why, last night, I couldn't sleep. I 
 kicked the logs together on my library hearth, and I 
 sat there all night thinking. I planned the journeys 
 we'd take together all over the world; the palaces and 
 
 303
 
 the gardens and the pictures we'd see and buy. Why, I 
 even thought of the jewels I'm going to give you, you 
 wonderful, dark, sweet Frances rubies, quarts of them. 
 There will be mighty few women in this country that 
 can have any more. Oh, Frances, what a life we shall 
 have ; for you are going to marry me, aren't you ? " 
 
 It was the woman who looked at him, love in the deeps 
 of her eyes; it was a soldier on the firing line who 
 answered him: 
 
 " No." 
 
 " No," he echoed, his face paling. " Why 
 why !" 
 
 " No," she hurried, " I'm not going to marry you. I 
 know it isn't fair to you. I shouldn't have let things go 
 on as they have. I cannot blame myself enough, and 
 I'm going to pay for it," with a bitter smile ; " but 
 but I dare not yield to this temptation." 
 
 At these conventional words he lifted his hands and 
 brought them down with clenched fists, an impotent, im 
 patient, despairing gesture.' 
 
 " The same old thing ! The same old priestly advice, 
 with which women love to sear and shrivel their lives. 
 Frances," with sudden determination, " do you like me 
 well enough to think that you could be happy with me ? " 
 
 She nodded mutely. There was anguish in her dark 
 eyes. 
 
 " I thought so," he affirmed triumphantly. " You 
 know that you love me. Reason enough to give me up. 
 Was there ever a woman with a touch of the religious 
 temperament who didn't sacrifice herself and everyone 
 
 304
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 else? Renunciation, I believe they call it. Renuncia 
 tion with every letter a capital. Frances, I'm not going 
 to be given up. Do not dream it." 
 
 Their eyes met, clashed ; but neither wavered. 
 
 " You are," she answered, " for you cannot hold me. 
 I do love you " 
 
 " You love me, but you won't marry me," he laughed 
 impatiently. " It's the loneliness of your life," he mur 
 mured presently, as if analysing to himself the causes 
 of her decision, " the effect of celibacy on a nature 
 never intended for it. Well, Frances, since you are de 
 termined to be a missionary, why not be one 'to me? " 
 
 " Always, when you need me," steadily, sincerely. 
 
 " Oh, that terrible, monkish stigmata on the brain ! " 
 he cried. " The madness, the fanaticism, the cruelty of 
 the religious temperament! This damnable Renuncia 
 tion with a capital R! And you would sacrifice both 
 you and myself to a crazy, egotistic belief that you are 
 divinely appointed to help a lot of sordid, worthless, 
 good-for-nothing people? Tell me, have you ever had 
 any gratitude from them? How many have you really 
 helped?" 
 
 " Those are the questions that I used to ask myself in 
 the days when I tried to help people," she smiled in sad 
 derision, " and it seemed to me that I never helped them. 
 I usually harmed them. And no matter how hard I 
 worked, the results were always so meagre. And I would 
 get so discouraged and disheartened! And then, one 
 day, I cannot tell how nor why, I knew all at once that 
 it would be that way just as long as I tried to help 
 
 305
 
 them. I saw that I had no right to try and guide and 
 direct people. Everyone has a right to choose his own 
 path, no matter what it is, or where it leads. So I just 
 loved them ; and in that way, Walter, I learned the great 
 secret of life love. Not to question or direct, but 
 just give love and sympathy, and tolerance that is all 
 we need." She paused and looked up the mountain. 
 
 His glance followed hers and he saw a long, rough 
 steep, great pink rocks and desolate ice-peaks swept 
 always by the mighty, rushing winds; but she gazed 
 out' upon the Via Mystica, a weary and toilsome road, 
 but guarded always by tall and shadowy angels with 
 healing in their wings. 
 
 " If you loved a singer would you ask her to give up 
 her beautiful voice ? " she asked abruptly. 
 
 " I would neither ask nor wish her to do so, but if 
 she really loved me she would be quite willing." 
 
 Frances shook her head. " Willing ! " she cried, 
 " what is ' willing ' in such a case? If it is a true gift, 
 it is the real part of her, and the only real part. It is 
 her expression. My poor little gift is to love all who 
 suffer, and I couldn't give it up. It is me." 
 
 He looked at her pityingly. " Ah, Frances, I had 
 not dreamed how you, with your sensitive, impression 
 able temperament had suffered from the seclusion of 
 these mountains ! Dear," tenderly, " we will go from 
 these gloomy hills, out into the big, sane, laughing 
 world of human interests and activities. There has 
 been too much fasting and prayer in your life, dearest. 
 We'll cut out all that, thank God ! I shall pick you up in 
 
 306
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 a minute and carry you down the hill, close, close to my 
 heart, and we'll catch a train presently and go out to 
 the big world of men and cities. Why, with the powers 
 at our command, we can drape life with colour and 
 beauty. Oh, Frances, won't you see it the kingdoms of 
 the earth are ours ! " 
 
 " ' And cinnamon and odours, and ointments, and 
 frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and 
 wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, 
 and slaves, and the souls of men.' " She murmured so 
 low that he did not hear her. 
 
 " But won't you think of me, Frances ? Won't you 
 help me to live, now that I, too, have found the secret 
 of life which is my love for you? Won't you help me 
 realise my dreams and ambitions? Do they mean noth 
 ing to you? You shall have all the playthings you want 
 hospitals, churches, schools anything; but I am 
 going into public life. I need your help. Think of the 
 opportunities ! Think " 
 
 " I do think. I have thought," she interrupted him 
 passionately. " You have great possessions, and with 
 
 them are developing great ambitions " She stopped 
 
 abruptly, the mental struggle manifest in her face, her 
 eyes; then she rose above the jealous, dominating fem 
 inine. " In your brilliant and luxurious life I would be 
 only a husk, a shell of a woman, who would have to be 
 trained into a painstaking knowledge of customs and 
 manners which would never seem to me worth the time 
 and interest I would have to put into them. It it is not 
 I you need by your side," she moistened her white lips, 
 
 307
 
 THE NEW MISSIONER 
 
 " but a young, happy woman, to whom all these ob 
 servances are as natural as breathing. A young, happy 
 woman with golden hair and a coronet of roses. Oh, 
 Walter," after a brief pause, " fool, crank, fanatic, I 
 may be; but your jewels I couldn't wear. I'd see always 
 white starving faces turned to me. I couldn't decorate 
 your beautiful houses and meet your guests ; I'd see 
 stunted, toil-worn hands stretched out to me, and hear 
 the cries of the shipwrecked. Don't you see that my 
 work is me ? " 
 
 " But the new worlds you talked so much about, the 
 worlds of beauty and colour and thought and imagina 
 tion," he pleaded. 
 
 " I don't belittle them. I love them ; but there's a 
 more wonderful reality. Through seeing them, I see far 
 and yet farther horizons. I've got to go on, Walter. 
 I've got to follow life, this vision of life, as I see it 
 myself, not as you would see it for me. I can't help it. 
 I've got to go on." 
 
 His face had changed and darkened; his eyes were 
 cold, his mouth bitter. 
 
 " I thought you were a woman, capable of love ; I 
 find that you are a fanatic, willing to sacrifice every 
 thing to an egotistic passion for self-expression." 
 
 " It is life, the only true life. Anything else is death," 
 she muttered. 
 
 When he left her she stood for a long time gazing 
 out over the mountains. Then she crept down the hill 
 as far as the rock on which she and the Pearl had sat 
 earlier in the day, and huddled close against it. Night, 
 
 308
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 black as ink and broken by the mocking cries of the 
 coyotes, came on, and lay over the earth for many 
 hours. When the dawn came, Frances strove .to rise; 
 but her limbs had stiffened. She ached from head to 
 foot, and she seemed to have lost the power and will 
 to move. The pale light gradually deepened, and when 
 the sun at last arose, it sent one dazzling ray straight 
 through the trees, flashing the high command of eter 
 nal morning : " Lift up your gates and sing ! " 
 
 Frances remembered that other morning when, 
 through joy, she had lifted her gates as high as heaven. 
 Now she was crushed beneath those gates ; now she had 
 but her soul's heritage the comfortless to comfort 
 her. As she thought of them, their weakness and tears 
 seemed to flow toward her, augmenting her strength. 
 With infinite difficulty she struggled to her knees, then 
 to her feet. Her stiffened arms she slowly raised above 
 her head, as if she held aloft the grief of the world. She 
 would lift her gates as high as heaven, and the very 
 soul of her should sing. 
 
 THE END 
 
 309
 
 
 J SOUTHfflNHEQIONAL UBRAR 
 
 A 000129347 1