_Chapter XVIII_
Flat on his back lay Mark King, his hands under his head, his eyes uponthe slow procession of the stars. Just so had he lain many a night inthe forest-land--but life then and now were as two distinct existenceswhich had nothing in common, but were set apart in two separate worlds,remote one from the other. Now he saw the stars, as it were, with thephysical eye alone, merely because they blazed so bright against thedarkness above him; he was scarcely conscious of their gleam andsparkle. Of old he had been wont to commune with them; through the longyears they had woven themselves into his rough-and-ready religion.Countless times had he watched them and mused and hearkened to themessage which, as with a still voice, infinitely calming, travelled tohim across the limitless vastitude of the universe. Countless times thatvoice had called him away from the toils and victories and defeats ofthe day, up into a place of quiet from which a man might look about himwith a somewhat truer perspective; he glimpsed futility in much of humanstrife and striving; he saw nobility enshrined in a "small" act; hemarked how, set in the scales of the eternal balances of scope andeternity, a copper penny set against a million dollars were as twofeathers; they rode light, and there was little choice between them. Hehad known that firefly cluster of lights above to be the majesticprocessional of worlds. He saw himself as small; the universe as big.And the knowledge did not crush; it elevated. Throughout the whole ofcreation ran the fine chain of divine ordinance, of a law that floweredin beauty. There was God's work above him, about him, within him. AndGod stood back of it all, vouching for it, making it good. The spinningof worlds, the pulses of tides, the course of the blood in hisveins--these were kindred phenomena; the law of God bound about with itsfine chain of divine will and love the greater and the lesser bodiesmoving through the universe. Upon such a comprehension, brotherhood ofman and tree and sun and flower, had been raised Mark King's haphazardedifice of a theory of life. The stars reminded him that through theeons all had been right with the world of worlds; they sang of hope andhappiness and beauty. They showed a man the way to rich, fullcontentment. They lighted the path to generous dealings with other men.They threw their searchlight upon the day a man had just done with andset him thinking; they led his thoughts ahead to the day soon to dawn,making him wish to make a better job of things.
But to-night between him and his beloved stars stretched a region ofshadows through which the eyes of his soul did not look. Somethingwithin him had been stricken; sorely wounded; beaten to its knees;chilled with death. He sought to think quite calmly, and for a long timeclear consecutive thought was beyond his reach. A moment had come whenhe could only _feel_. He was swept this way and that. He had given toGloria his love without stint, without reservation, without limit. Thelove which no other woman had ever awakened had poured itself out beforeGloria like a flood of clear swift water breaking free. He loved afterthe only fashion possible to him, with his whole heart and soul, withhis whole being. He adored. He made of his beloved a princess, agoddess. He saw her upon a plane where no woman ever lived, in anatmosphere too rare for flesh-and-blood humanity. A man does not lovethrough human reason; rather through a reason, hidden even to him,deeper than humanity. Then Gloria had put her hand into his; Gloria hadmarried him; Gloria had elected to come with him. After that he had seennothing in its true light; Gloria had remade the world into paradiseineffable.
He had been on the heights, lifted among the stars. And without warning,without mercy, the world had crashed about him. From the zenith to thenadir. Small wonder that thoughts did not come logically! He floundered,lost, crushed, bewildered.
Just yonder, on the bed of fir-boughs he had made for her, lay Gloria.He did not look that way. The wind was rising; he heard it go rushingthrough the tree-tops; it struck with sudden, relentless impact; it setthe shivering needles to shrill whistling; it made the staunch oldtrunks shudder. He heard the canvas flap-flapping by Gloria's bed; abovehim tossing boughs scraped and creaked.
One thing only seemed clear to him: the time had come when a man mustseek to hold himself in check, when he must not leap, when he muststrive with all the stubborn will in him to reserve judgment. His ownlife's crisis had come to him, revealing itself with the blindingswiftness of a flash of lightning. A step forward or back now would beone step toward which his entire destiny, from the hour of birth untilnow, had led him; there would be no retracing it; it would be final; andeverything--everything--was at stake. He must think; he must try tounderstand all that Gloria had experienced; to see what impulses hadmoved her; to make allowances for her; to come to read aright what layin her heart. He must see clearly into two human hearts! Task for thegods! As though the wilderness about him were a colossal malevolententity endowed with the power to look into human breasts, it jeered athim with its voice of the wind.
He had but half a mind to give to physical senses. Though the windhowled all night long, he scarce was conscious of it; though the coldincreased, he did not know that he was cold before he had grown numb.He had given to Gloria all of their bedding, save alone the one blankethe had wrapped about him; he had kept on all his clothing, buttoned uphis coat, and forgotten that he was not warmly covered. Now he got upand walked up and down; he made the fire blaze up; he sat huddled overit until it burned down to a bed of glowing red coals.
Once or twice he heard Gloria stir restlessly upon her fir-bough bed.But he did not speak. There was nothing to be said between them now;they would wait until she had rested, until morning. Then there would beno more delay. They would understand each other then as few men andwomen had understood; there would be plain words and but few of them. Hegrew impatient for morning and sat looking forward to its coming with aface set and hard, growing as stern as death.
Gloria, exhausted, had gone to sleep, snuggled warmly into her blankets.It was the wind that awoke her; she started wide awake, her heart in herthroat, startled by the flapping of the canvas at her head. She laystill and looked up; the pines were black and swayed dismally; the windamong them made shuddersome music; the cold began to drive through herblankets, through her clothing. Her body was stiff and sore; thebranches of fir under her hurt her through the canvas and one blanketwhich covered them. She turned, twisting into a position of lessdiscomfort. The creek babbled and splashed; its voice merged with thewilds into a bleak, cheerless duet.
She lifted her head a little; the fire was dying out and King had gone!The darkness bore down upon her; she heard everywhere vague sounds,noises as of stealthy feet. She knew a moment of blind terror; she triedto cry out but only a little choking gasp resulted. She saw somethingmoving, a vague, formless, dreadful something, and lay back, chilledwith fright. It was King; he was bringing fresh fuel. She sank back andagain looked up at the pines swaying against the field of stars. Shebegan to shiver; a nervous chill. She felt the slow tears form and spillover and trickle down her cheeks. She gathered her nether lip betweenher teeth and lay very still, shaken now and then by a noiseless sob.
She existed through a period of suppressed excitement. If King foundcool logic eluding him, Gloria's mind was an orgy of nervous imaginings.She was back with her mother, weeping, sobbing out upon a comfortingbreast all of her hideous adventures; she was reading the tall headlinesin the newspapers; she was commenting on them with simulated flippancyto Georgia and Ernestine; she was meeting Mr. Gratton for the first timeagain, treating him to such haughty disdain as put hot blood into hiswhite face; she was standing erect in the morning, confronting Mark Kingfearlessly, demanding her rights, commanding that he take her home. And,piteously lonely and frightened, she was longing to have him come to hernow, to put his arms about her, to hold her tight, to set his fearlessbody between hers and the vague and terrible menaces of the night andthe jeering night voices. She heard a twig snap; her heart beat wildly;she wondered what she would do when he came--and she saw that he satmotionless by the fire.
The night wore on. She dozed now and then, fitfully, awakened alwaysrudely by unaccustomed noises or by the cold or the discomfort of he
rbed. She put her hand to her cheek, wondering if she were going to befeverish; her face was cold. She saw that King had lighted his pipe. Shewanted to scream at him. How she hated him for that. That he could smokewhile she lay here in such wretchedness made her briefly hot with anger.He was a man, and sweepingly she told herself that she loathed allmankind. She accused him of heartlessness, of lack of understanding, ofbrutal lack of sympathy. He and he alone was responsible foreverything--that vague, terrible _everything_. He sat there as still asa rooted tree; he bulked big through the gloom like a rugged boulder; hewas a part of this wild land, as indifferent, as cold, as merciless.The thought now that he might come to her made her quake with fear; shewas afraid of him.
If she could only sleep! No sleep to-night, little the night before,less the night before that. No wonder her brain swirled. If all this hadhappened at any other time--She was a bundle of nerves--nerves thatvibrated at the slightest suggestion. She was going to be ill. Perhapsthe end of it would be that she would die. All of the misshapen,monstrous fancies which are bred of a sleepless and nervous night madefor her a period of such stress that as the hours wore on they blanchedher cheeks and put dark shadows under her eyes and taunted her withlongings for a rest which they denied her.
Thus, in the stern grips of their destinies, Mark King and Gloria livedthrough the night, two uncertain spirits awaiting the light of day. Andthus their brains, those finite organs upon which mankind entrusts theordering of great events, prepared themselves for the moment when theymust grapple with and decide a matter of supreme moment. And all nightthe wind, like a hateful voice, jeered.
* * * * *
At four o'clock that chill, wind-blown morning King began the day. Hesaw that Gloria was awake and sitting up, looking straight ahead of her.He gave no sign of having noted her, but busied himself in a swift,silent sort of way with fire-building and breakfast preparation. Gloria,in turn, saw him; she experienced aloof wonder at the look on his face.He was haggard; his mouth was set and hard.
She had thought to be thankful when daylight came. Now she got up andwent to the fire, rubbing her cold hands together, looking at anawakened world with dull, lack-lustre eyes. It was not yet full day;what light filtered down here into this sheltered spot was cheerless; asit drew forest details out of the thinning shadows it seemed to bepainting them in cold grey monotones upon a cold grey world.
He and she, when he came back with an arm-load of wood, looked straightinto each other's eyes, long and soberly, searchingly and hopelessly.After that they did not again look into each other's faces; nogood-morning had passed between them since both sensed that any time forempty civilities had gone. There could be no conventional pretence atharmony even in small things; they must be in each other's arms orworlds apart.
Out of a night's grappling with chimeras, King had come to one and onlyone determination: he would go slowly, he would hold an iron check uponhimself, he would throttle down a temper which more than once in hislife, at moments of tempest, had blazed out uncontrollably. He wouldsmother within himself that passion which in forthright men is so proneto burst into violence. Were Gloria to show herself to be this or that,were she to say this word or another, he would speak with her coolly, hewould listen to her calmly, and in the end, since judge he must, hewould judge with his heart ordered to beat steadily and not with a wildrush of blood. He had set a guard in his own breast as he might have seta guard over a camp of treacherous enemies.
Yet, from the outset, nothing was more unlikely than that these twoshould advance by smooth paths to a clear and utter understanding. Hisone glimpse of her face dethroned his cold logic and moved him verydeeply; she was so white, so pitifully sad-looking. She, too, hadsuffered; God knew that she had battled through hours of anguish. Hewanted her in his arms; he wanted to batter at the world with his fiststo save her from its flings of grief and pain. He bit savagely at hislip and turned away. And she, seeing his haggard eyes, his drawn face,knew that she had been unjust last night when she had hated him forseeming a soulless man, who could smoke his pipe in all serenity andfeel nothing of the unhappiness of the night. He did not look like theMark King of yesterday; the glad gleam of joy had died in his eyes; thequick resiliency had gone out of his step. He, too, had lived throughslow hours of torture. He did love her--she could never doubt that----
Had he suddenly caught her to him then, had he crushed her close in hisarms, had he cried out in headlong passion that she _must_ love him,that he would make her love him, that she was his, that he would notgive her up--would she have wrenched away from him, hot with anger--orwould she have crept close and known at last whether or not she lovedhim? But here was something else she could not know; he turned and wentoff for his wood; she crouched shivering by the fire.
They breakfasted in silence, the fire between them. Neither did muchmore than drink the strong coffee. Gloria sat tossing bits of bread intothe fire. It was on his lips to tell her not to do that; waste in thewilderness is a crime. But he held his words back. He went methodicallyabout camp work; cleaned the plates and cups and pans; remade the twopacks. All this time she did not stir. At last he came back to her andstood by the dying fire, ominously silent. She grew nervously restive,wishing that he would say something.
"There's a day's work to be done," he said at last. His voice, meant tobe impersonal, was only stern. "That means an early start. And--"
"Is it very much further to the caves?" she asked.
He had paused; she had to say something.
"It will take a long day getting there. You see, we didn't come very faryesterday."
This, she supposed, was a fling at her, and she stiffened under it. Butwhen she spoke it was to ignore the innuendo, intended or not. For,wherever they might be led, she hoped it would not be into sordidquarrelling.
"It begins to be rather obvious that I should not have come. Doesn'tit?" she asked.
"Well?"
"Now, if I turn back----"
"To the house?"
"And then to mamma and papa, in Coloma. And then to San Francisco."
"And I?"
"If you would go with me as far as the house----"
She saw how his body straightened, how his broad shoulders squared.There was something eloquent in the gesture; Mark King, with notoleration of a clutter of side issues, came straight to the mainbarrier, which must be swept aside for good and all, or which must beskirted and so passed and relegated to the limbo of dead hopes.
"Do you love me, Gloria?" he demanded. "As lovers love? As I have lovedyou? As a wife should love her husband?"
"Didn't I explain all of that last night?" she said petulantly. "Must wego over it all again? If I have ... have pained you, I am sorry. I can'tsay any more than that, can I? I thought I made you see how I wasplaced, how there was but the one thing for me to do...."
"Marry Gratton or me? And you chose me?"
She hesitated. She knew that he was angry, though he gave so littleoutward sign. Nor did she fail to recognize that he had grounds foranger. But none the less she resented his insistent questionings. Shestood looking blankly at him. If she had only obeyed her straightforwardimpulse at the house to go to him and explain her predicament!
"I intended," she began in a low, strange voice, "to go to you, to tellyou----"
"Answer me," he said sternly. "Yes or no. Did you marry me without loveand just to save yourself from possible gossip of being alone all nightwith a man? Is that why you married me? Yes or no?"
To Gloria, as to King, the issue was clear and not to be clouded; to hercredit be it said that she wasted no time in fruitless evasion. Thismatter would demand settlement, as well now as later. There was wisdomin ending all unpleasantness once and for ever.
"Yes," she answered defiantly.
Then suddenly it was given her to see a Mark King she had never dreamedof, a Mark King of blazing wrath thrusting aside the man whom she knewand who had held himself in check and throttled down his emotion untilshe spoke
that quiet "Yes." The word was like a spark to a train ofgunpowder. His determination to beat down his temper, no matter whatcame, was gone; his memory of her ordeals was wiped out; from his wholetense being there flashed out upon her a hot, heady anger, like stabbinglightning from an ominous cloud. His few words seared and scorched aplace in her memory to endure always.
He clenched his hands and raised them; for an instant she thought he wasgoing to strike her down.
"You are utterly contemptible!" he shouted at her. "And I am done withyou!"
He turned and left her. Gloria stared after him in amazement. She sawhow he walked swiftly, his big boots crunching through the gravel downby the creek bed, splashing through the water, carrying him up thetimbered slope toward the horses. She could not know that he was almostrunning because he was telling himself in his fierce white passion thatunless he left her thus he would lose the last power of restraint, andset his hands to her pink-and-white throat and choke her. Until the lastsecond he had sought not to condemn too soon. Now, after his fashion, hecondemned sweepingly. For the moment he held that she was less to himthan the grime upon his boots.
When he came to the horses he was white with anger; he lifted his handand looked at his fingers queerly; they were trembling. He cursedhimself for a fool, shut the hand into a hard fist as steady as rock,and for an instant glared at it blackly. Then he opened the fingersslowly; a hard smile made his mouth ugly and left it cruel; the fingershad hearkened to a superb will, and gave no greater hint of tremblingthan did the nigged hole of the giant cedar under which he stood.
He coiled his horse's tie-rope and led him back to camp. As he drewnear, Gloria promptly turned her back and studied her nails; she had hadencounters with men before now and had not yet gauged the profundity ofthis man's emotion. She counted fully on bringing him to a full andcontrite sense of his crime before she condescended so much as to lookat him. But when she flashed him a quick, furtive glance she saw that hehad his back upon her, and that he gave neither hint of softening noryet of knowledge of her presence. He bridled the buckskin, saddled, tiedhis rope at the saddle-horn, and began making his pack. She watched,uneasy and concerned but not yet fully understanding. But when she notedhow he took from their breakfast-table one cup, one plate, one knife andfork, only; how he did not appear interested in the marmalade-jar whichshe knew had been brought for her; how he left half of the coffee andbacon and sugar; a strange alarm came over her. She glanced wildlyaround. The forest glowered darkly; the silence was overpowering; theloneliness bewildering. He was going to leave her--she had not thefaintest idea in the world where the trail lay.
King went swiftly about his preparations. He did not even see her; hestudiously kept his eyes aloof. Within his soul he swore that he wouldnever look at her again....He took up his rifle.
Gloria stirred uneasily. She did not like to yield to him even to theextent of saying a stiff word. But she felt that the man was not playinga part, and that in another moment she would be alone.
"You are not going to leave me here alone, are you?" she demandedcoldly.
"I am going on," was his curt rejoinder.
"And I?" she persisted.
"What you please."
He went on with his preparations. Terror sprang up into the girl'sheart.
"I would never find my way out," she cried, jumping to her feet andcoming toward him. "I am not used to the mountains ...I don't know whichway ...I would die...."
"To be rid of you the easiest way," he returned bluntly, "I would turnback with you until we got within striking distance of the open. Butyou have made me waste time as it is, and I promised Ben that I'd be inGus Ingle's caves with no time lost. So I am going on."
"But," and all of her surging terror trembled in her rushing words, "Iwould die, I tell you...."
"And I tell you," he snapped back at her, "that I don't care a damn ifyou do. Must I tell you twice that I am through with you?"
He set his foot to the stirrup. Gloria, pride lost in panic, ran to himand grasped his arm, crying to him:
"You mustn't leave me this way! It's brutal ... it's murder."
"I gave my promise to Ben," he said. "You are not worth breaking apromise."
"If you won't take me back, then let me go with you."
"Worthless and selfish and cowardly! Useless and vain and brainless!Good God! am I, a man full grown, to loiter on the trail with the likeof you? Let go!" He shook her hand off roughly and swung up into thesaddle, sending his horse with a boot-heel in the flank down to theford. But Gloria screamed after him, and ran after him, down to thecreek and through it, calling out:
"Mark! Mark! For God's sake don't leave me. I am afraid; I will die offear. Take me with you...."
He did not look back at her, but he did pause. After all, she was thedaughter of his old friend.
"The woods are free and open," he said slowly. "To even such as you. Forthe third time and for the last I tell you this: I am done with you. Butif you like you may follow behind me. I will wait for you ten minutes.Not here, but on the ridge up there. And if you have not come, I will goon at the end of that time. That is my solemn word, Gloria Gaynor."
He rode from her, straight and massive in the saddle, up the slope amongthe big-boled trees, and in a trice out of sight. She stood like one ina sudden trance. Then, with an inarticulate moan, she ran into the groveand grasped Blackie's rope, and dragged at him trying to make him runwith her to her saddle and few belongings. The saddle nearlyovermastered her; it was heavy, and she knew as little of it as did anycity girl. But her need was sore and her young body not without supplestrength. In half of the allotted time Gloria came riding up the ridge.Now King glanced toward her briefly. But less at her than at her pack.
"You had better go back for the rest of the grub," he said to her. "Andfor your blanket-roll. That would be my advice to the devil himself....You can do it in the five minutes left to you."
Gloria flung up her head, opened her lips for a stinging reply, and thenheld for a moment in silence and hesitation.
"You hideous brute!" she flung at him. But none the less she hastenedback for her outfit. Five minutes later they rode on into theever-deepening wilderness, she just keeping his form in sight, he neverturning nor speaking.