Everyman's Land

sofa, facing the door. The thing I'd thought impossible had

tep toward me, holding out his hand. His eyes searched mine; and, dimmed by years and sorrow as they were, there was in them still a reminder of the unforgotten, eagle-gaze. From him the son had inherited his high nose and square forehead. Had he lived, s

of a child who has never been allowed to grow up; and I knew at once that she was one of those women kept by their menfolk on a high shelf, like a frag

don't we, Jenny?" Holding my hand, he turned and led me toward his wife, looking at me

I felt how he fought to hide his emotion, and the answering thrill of it shot up through my arm, as our hands touched. My heart beat wildly

cry out the truth. But it was only an impulse, such an impulse as lures one to jump from a height. I caught myself back from yielding, as I would have caught myself

e to" a human stranger who offers advances. I seemed to see her thinking-thinking not so much with her brain as with her heart, as you used to say Brian thought. I saw her ideas move as if they'd been the works of a watch ticking under glass. I knew that she wasn't clever enough

yes. I had not winced away from her blue searchlights, but tears gathered and suddenly poured over my cheeks. Perhaps it was the tragedy of my own situation more than hers which touched me

I knew we were crying in each other's arms, the little frail woman and the cruel girl who was deceiving her. But, Padre, t

don't! I'm proud he went the way he did. It was a grand wayand a grand cause. We've got to remember how many other hearts in the world are aching as ours ache. We'

a clean, lavender-scented handkerchie

d will let us try to comfort her-unless

was a little girl," I answered. "I

me beautiful inward light, that there was a striking resemblance between them. It was the kind of resemblance to be seen only on the faces of a pair who have loved each other, and thought the same thoughts long year after long year. The light

nd hung with loose rings of rich, ancient fashion such as children love to be shown in mother's

met we'd get a pleasant surprise. We-silly old folks!-never thought of a love story. We supposed Jim was booked for promotion, or a new job with some sort of honour attached t

it some other girl who had won him at first sight? This was what I said to myself: and something that was not myself adde

me. Jim wouldn't have minded. He knew well enough she always

m to marry young, and give us a daughter we could love. Then he answered-I remember as if 'twas yesterday!-'Mother, you wouldn't want her unless I could love her too, would you?' 'Why no,' I answered. 'But you would love her!' He didn't speak for a minute. He was holding my hand, counting my rings-these ones you see-like he always

me what he sa

e we sat. Only our bodies were there, like the empty, amber shells of locusts when the locusts have freed themselves and vanished. I w

quite a story. But when he found yo

tell me what

ing him to see a picture. The artist was away,

Brian painted such bea

Father Beckett broke in. "But go on, Mother. We'll tell about t

d the most wonderful girl he'd ever seen in his life-his 'dream come alive.' That's how he

all me 'Mar

! And now I see he described you just right. When you hear, you'll know it was love made hi

e thought them. He said, I had eyes "like sapphires fallen among dark grasses." And my hair was

ke an echo of music I had nearly missed! There's n

slide if he hadn't imagined that a little mystery might make him more interesting in my eyes. Believing that we had met again, Mrs. Beckett supposed that he had explained this to me. But of course it was all new, and when she came to the reason why Jim Wyndham had never come back, I thought for a moment I should faint. He was taken ill in Paris, three days after we parted, with typhoid fever; and though it was never a desperate case

when Mr. Beckett began to draw me out, with a quite pathetic shyness, on the subject of our worldly resources that I was brought up short again, against the dark wall of my deceit. It should have been exquisite, it wa

uld for Brian and myself out of Jim Beckett's father and mother. And now, when I was on the way to obtain my object, more easily than I had expected-now, when I saw the kind of people the

d me as children, that Vivien was the worst cad I ever heard of since the beginning of the world!

diamond stud like a headlight, the old lady afraid to take cold if she left off an extra row of pearls. In our desperate state, anything seemed fair in love or war with such hard, worth-their-weight-in-gold people. But

ors overwhelmed treacherous Tarpeia. And when they began delicately begging me to be their adopted daughter-the very thing I'd prayed for to the devil!

ed it out in spite of all if I'd been left alone to decide, I shall n