I
Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the barn, mending harnessby the light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm.It was only five o'clock of a mid-October day, but a storm hadcome up in the afternoon, bringing black clouds, a cold wind andtorrents of rain. The old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, andoccasionally stopped to warm his fingers at the lantern. Suddenlya woman burst into the shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied bya shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, wrapped in a man's overcoatand wearing a pair of boots over her shoes. In time of troubleSigna had come back to stay with her mistress, for she was the onlyone of the maids from whom Alexandra would accept much personalservice. It was three months now since the news of the terriblething that had happened in Frank Shabata's orchard had first runlike a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying on withAlexandra until winter.
"Ivar," Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, "doyou know where she is?"
The old man put down his cobbler's knife. "Who, the mistress?"
"Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I happened to look outof the window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dressand sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I thought she wasgoing to Mrs. Hiller's, and I telephoned as soon as the thunderstopped, but she had not been there. I'm afraid she is out somewhereand will get her death of cold."
Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. "JA, JA, we will see.I will hitch the boy's mare to the cart and go."
Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses' stable.She was shivering with cold and excitement. "Where do you supposeshe can be, Ivar?"
The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg."How should I know?"
"But you think she is at the graveyard, don't you?" Signa persisted."So do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I can'tbelieve it's Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head aboutanything. I have to tell her when to eat and when to go to bed."
"Patience, patience, sister," muttered Ivar as he settled the bitin the horse's mouth. "When the eyes of the flesh are shut, theeyes of the spirit are open. She will have a message from thosewho are gone, and that will bring her peace. Until then we mustbear with her. You and I are the only ones who have weight withher. She trusts us."
"How awful it's been these last three months." Signa held thelantern so that he could see to buckle the straps. "It don't seemright that we must all be so miserable. Why do we all have to bepunished? Seems to me like good times would never come again."
Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stoopedand took a sandburr from his toe.
"Ivar," Signa asked suddenly, "will you tell me why you go barefoot?All the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is itfor a penance, or what?"
"No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youthup I have had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject toevery kind of temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged.It was necessary to make some allowances; and the feet, as Iunderstand it, are free members. There is no divine prohibitionfor them in the Ten Commandments. The hands, the tongue, the eyes,the heart, all the bodily desires we are commanded to subdue; butthe feet are free members. I indulge them without harm to anyone, even to trampling in filth when my desires are low. They arequickly cleaned again."
Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar outto the wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backedin the mare and buckled the hold-backs. "You have been a goodfriend to the mistress, Ivar," she murmured.
"And you, God be with you," replied Ivar as he clambered into thecart and put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. "Now fora ducking, my girl," he said to the mare, gathering up the reins.
As they emerged from the shed, a stream of water, running off thethatch, struck the mare on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly,then struck out bravely on the soft ground, slipping back again andagain as she climbed the hill to the main road. Between the rainand the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let Emil's marehave the rein, keeping her head in the right direction. When theground was level, he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod,where she was able to trot without slipping.
Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house,the storm had spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft,dripping rain. The sky and the land were a dark smoke color, andseemed to be coming together, like two waves. When Ivar stoppedat the gate and swung out his lantern, a white figure rose frombeside John Bergson's white stone.
The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gatecalling, "Mistress, mistress!"
Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her hand on his shoulder."TYST! Ivar. There's nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry ifI've scared you all. I didn't notice the storm till it was on me,and I couldn't walk against it. I'm glad you've come. I am sotired I didn't know how I'd ever get home."
Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. "GUD!You are enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drownedwoman. How could you do such a thing!"
Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped herinto the cart, wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he hadbeen sitting.
Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. "Not much use in that, Ivar.You will only shut the wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'mheavy and numb. I'm glad you came."
Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feetsent back a continual spatter of mud.
Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through thesullen gray twilight of the storm. "Ivar, I think it has done megood to get cold clear through like this, once. I don't believeI shall suffer so much any more. When you get so near the dead,they seem more real than the living. Worldly thoughts leave one.Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it rained. Now thatI've been out in it with him, I shan't dread it. After you onceget cold clear through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet.It seems to bring back feelings you had when you were a baby. Itcarries you back into the dark, before you were born; you can'tsee things, but they come to you, somehow, and you know them andaren't afraid of them. Maybe it's like that with the dead. Ifthey feel anything at all, it's the old things, before they wereborn, that comfort people like the feeling of their own bed doeswhen they are little."
"Mistress," said Ivar reproachfully, "those are bad thoughts. Thedead are in Paradise."
Then he hung his head, for he did not believe that Emil was inParadise.
When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-roomstove. She undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, whileIvar made ginger tea in the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed,wrapped in hot blankets, Ivar came in with his tea and saw thatshe drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on the slat loungeoutside her door. Alexandra endured their attentions patiently,but she was glad when they put out the lamp and left her. As shelay alone in the dark, it occurred to her for the first time thatperhaps she was actually tired of life. All the physical operationsof life seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be free fromher own body, which ached and was so heavy. And longing itselfwas heavy: she yearned to be free of that.
As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly thanfor many years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being liftedand carried lightly by some one very strong. He was with hera long while this time, and carried her very far, and in his armsshe felt free from pain. When he laid her down on her bed again,she opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her life, she sawhim, saw him clearly, though the room was dark, and his face wascovered. He was standing in the doorway of her room. His whitecloak was thrown over his face, and his head was bent a littleforward. His shoulders seemed as strong as the foundations of theworld. His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark and gleaming,like bronze, and she knew at once that it was the arm of themightiest of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it was she hadwaited, and where he would carry her. That, she told herself,
wasvery well. Then she went to sleep.
Alexandra wakened in the morning with nothing worse than a hard coldand a stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and itwas during that time that she formed a resolution to go to Lincolnto see Frank Shabata. Ever since she last saw him in the courtroom,Frank's haggard face and wild eyes had haunted her. The trial hadlasted only three days. Frank had given himself up to the policein Omaha and pleaded guilty of killing without malice and withoutpremeditation. The gun was, of course, against him, and the judgehad given him the full sentence,--ten years. He had now been inthe State Penitentiary for a month.
Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anythingcould be done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them,and he was paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt that sheherself had been more to blame than poor Frank. From the time theShabatas had first moved to the neighboring farm, she had omittedno opportunity of throwing Marie and Emil together. Because sheknew Frank was surly about doing little things to help his wife,she was always sending Emil over to spade or plant or carpenterfor Marie. She was glad to have Emil see as much as possible of anintelligent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she noticed thatit improved his manners. She knew that Emil was fond of Marie, butit had never occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be differentfrom her own. She wondered at herself now, but she had neverthought of danger in that direction. If Marie had been unmarried,--oh,yes! Then she would have kept her eyes open. But the mere fact thatshe was Shabata's wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. That she wasbeautiful, impulsive, barely two years older than Emil, these facts hadhad no weight with Alexandra. Emil was a good boy, and only bad boysran after married women.
Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, afterall, Marie; not merely a "married woman." Sometimes, when Alexandrathought of her, it was with an aching tenderness. The moment shehad reached them in the orchard that morning, everything was clearto her. There was something about those two lying in the grass,something in the way Marie had settled her cheek on Emil's shoulder,that told her everything. She wondered then how they could havehelped loving each other; how she could have helped knowing thatthey must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's content--Alexandrahad felt awe of them, even in the first shock of her grief.
The idleness of those days in bed, the relaxation of body whichattended them, enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she haddone since Emil's death. She and Frank, she told herself, were leftout of that group of friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster.She must certainly see Frank Shabata. Even in the courtroom herheart had grieved for him. He was in a strange country, he had nokinsmen or friends, and in a moment he had ruined his life. Beingwhat he was, she felt, Frank could not have acted otherwise. Shecould understand his behavior more easily than she could understandMarie's. Yes, she must go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata.
The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum;a single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened.She was not a woman who could write much about such a thing, andabout her own feelings she could never write very freely. She knewthat Carl was away from post-offices, prospecting somewhere in theinterior. Before he started he had written her where he expectedto go, but her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the weeks wentby and she heard nothing from him, it seemed to Alexandra thather heart grew hard against Carl. She began to wonder whether shewould not do better to finish her life alone. What was left oflife seemed unimportant.