A Bachelor Husband

  MARIE had never seen death, but there was no fear in her heart asshe softly closed the door behind her, and went forward into theroom.

  The cotton blind at the window fitted badly, and gleams of sunlightfound their way through on either side of it, seeming toconcentrate in a strangely deliberate manner about the silentfigure of the man who had given his life for her.

  A white sheet covered him, but Marie's hand did not tremble as shegently drew it down and looked at the marble whiteness of Feathers'ugly face.

  Death had been kind to him. It had wiped out the hard lines, andleft him with a peculiarly noble, and boyish look. But even thewaters of the treacherous river had been unable to smooth his roughhair, and it stood up over his head with just the same obstinateuntidiness that she had always known, and with sudden impulse shelaid her hand on it, smoothing it gently, as a mother might smooththe hair of a sleeping child.

  Were there two ways of loving, she was asking herself desperately?and was it possible to love two men at the same time, or had sheindeed ceased to love Chris?

  Feathers had given her her first man's kiss of passion. In his armsshe had first known complete happiness, and it seemed a crudeimpossibility that she would never hear his voice again, that hiseyes would never open any more to look at her with their faithfuladoration.

  And it came home to her with bitter truth as she stood there, thatin her selfishness, and self absorption, she must have caused himgreat suffering.

  Last night, right from the first moment of their meeting at theinn, he had thought only of her, never once of himself--even downto the very end, when wounded to death, he had given his last ounceof strength to save her, spent his last breath on words of cheerand encouragement.

  And what had she given him in return?--little enough it seemed now,as she looked at his marble face about which the autumn sunshineflickered.

  He had loved her so completely, and now she would never be able totell him how much she honored him, loved him!

  For Marie Celeste knew that she did love him! Not perhaps withromantic passion with which she had once loved Chris; not perhapsas she would some day love Chris again--but with the wonderful,trusting, imperishable love which one must feel for a friend whohas never failed.

  Her heart ached for the sound of his voice--to hear him say that heunderstood and forgave. His last kiss on the dark road that nightwould always be one of her most cherished memories she knew, as shestood there, her eyes fixed on his face, while her heart made itslast farewell.

  He had told her to go back to Chris--she knew that it had been hisearnest wish, and she knew too, that some day she would obey.

  But not yet! oh not yet! She must have a little time first toherself to get back her lost courage, and to forget the sweetnessof a lost dream.

  She took the little sprig of white heather which he had sent herfrom Scotland--so long ago it seemed--and which she had always wornabout her neck, and laid it between his folded hands. Then shekissed him as so short a time ago he had kissed her--his hands, andhis closed eyes, his rough coarse hair, and the lips that felt likemarble beneath her own.

  She was sobbing now--cruel sobbing that brought with it no reliefof tears as she whispered a last good-bye and over and over again"God bless you--God bless you--always--always."

  And it seemed to her distraught imagination that now there was alittle smile of contentment shadowing Feathers' cold lips, wherebefore no smile had been, and something seemed to snap on her heartand brain as she cried his name in anguish through the silent room.

  "Feathers!--_Feathers!_"

  And the woman who kept the inn came running swiftly at the sound ofa fall, and found Marie Celeste lying senseless, her arms flung outtowards the man who, for the first time in his life, could not hearor answer when she called to him.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  "And justice stood at the proud man's side, 'Whose is the fault? Accuse!' it cried; And the proud man answered in humbled tone, 'I cannot accuse--the fault is mine own.'"