"It is this way," said Thaddeus, "to speak from a—a—personal standpoint. If Morgan Map goes to the cemetery I shall not wait for my mail, but go and—a—accidentally interrupt. If he goes north, the other man may go there, if he chooses. I shall wait for my mail."
"Your standpoint!" said Mr. Paulus, heavily. "Well—speakin' from young Map's, what might he want in the cemetery? Speakin' from mine, I'd rather he'd go there and stay."
"My niece Helen is at present planting flowers in the cemetery—in point of fact, roots."
Mr. Paulus was aroused. "They might do some buttin'—think?"
"Gals! Shucks!" The stage-driver climbed back to his seat and drove away. Mr. Paulus looked after him, musingly.
"Willard Sickles," he said, "never would have nothin' to do with women. He was born drivin' mails!"
"Pun?" asked Thaddeus, delicately, with his eyes on the Four Corners. "Pun, Peter?"
"Hey?" Mr. Paulus was still thoughtful—abstracted. "Lonesome and disgusted. Born so. It's his nature."
The two at the Four Corners separated. Morgan went north, Gard towards the cemetery.
"I thought they might do some buttin'," said Mr. Paulus, as one grown used to disappointment, and went in with his mail-bags.
Sundry villagers appeared, drifting slowly to the focus of the post-office. Thaddeus took off his glasses and put them with precision into their case.
"I wonder if Pete intended a pun? Probably not. Conversation is subject to accidents. It is a pity that conversation is not—not more secure."
Gard entered the cemetery-gate and went along the shrub-bordered path.
"Every man is the dungeon of himself, but there is a key that unlocks mine."
He stepped from the path into the grass, and Helen's apron was full of a mess of brown, earthy roots. She started and cried out, and held up both hands to him, with the trowel in one of them.
"I don't like my life, Nellie. Won't you let me into yours?" And she dropped the trowel and said, "Oh—why, yes," in a tone that sounded like an after-climax, and Gard took apron, yellow head, and all into his arms, and scattered the roots beside Widow Bourn's placid grave and Simon's stone, on which was graven insistently, "Remember Me." A bluebird warbled and cooed to himself on the fence and paid no attention. The bold head of Windless Mountain glimmered in the sun, that swung low and near it. Presently the shadow of Windless would sweep over Hagar with noiseless rush, with silence, or the sleepy twittering of day-birds.
"It was a long way here, Nellie. I went nearly to the other end of everything to find the path."
"Do you really love me? How long?"
"Long before I knew it. Do you mean how long am I going to?"
"No, I don't. Look, Gard! These will be blue violets when they grow. They come from behind the church, and mother liked them. But you belong to me now, and you mustn't stay here. It's cold under the hemlocks. You must come out in the sun."
They went back along the path to the gate. Over the fence in his garden the minister was planting peas, arranging them according to some theory of fitness, perhaps allegorically, and humming a hymn out of tune. Knowing that a tune was a spiritual mystery which Providence did not permit him ever thoroughly to penetrate, he only sang when he thought himself alone, and in a subdued murmur. The weather-vane of the militant church pointed southwest at Windless Mountain, which meant always a benevolent opinion about the weather. The sun slipped behind the mountain, and the shadow of Windless flowed over Hagar; over Rachel standing at the lilac gate, waiting for Helen, and liking the impersonal peace of the hour; over Thaddeus stepping up the hill from the post-office, and formulating certain reflections on the use and abuse of accident in the practice of conversation; over Helen and Gard.
"You must learn all about Hagar, Gard. That's the minister. He always pats his peas on the head when he plants them. And that's Windless."
"Is that Windless? He looks like a gentleman. Let's call the minister and let him pat us on the head, show him it's a world of kisses so he'll know what the trouble is, and tell him to ring the bell to-morrow."
"Nonsense. Besides, if you're going to do that, I'd rather only Windless saw."
"You'll be famous and glorious, won't you? And I'll be proud—"
"Proud in a tower?"
"Oh, anywhere. Properly proud like Windless. But we'll like best to be in Hagar, because that will be home."
"I'll be something, or try to be, if you want it. I'm a tired soldier now, Nellie, on sick leave. I told the adjutant I was in love, too, but he wouldn't put it in the permit. Let's go home."
They went up past the militant church, and Thaddeus and Rachel waited, smiling, at the gate under the lilacs. Simon's epitaph and the fading mountain were left facing each other across the dusk. In any issue between them, the dignity of law and time seemed to be with the mountain as against the personal claim, yet one did not come to Hagar to learn among its twilights that humanity was degenerate nature, or that the instinct of its insistent identity was lawless; it might be an amendment in the process of making.
"They're coming," said Thaddeus. "The older I grow, Mrs. Mavering, the more I perceive a certain dexterity in the—in fact, in event; a shell now, for instance, skilfully exploded."
Rachel only smiled and threw open the gate.
I heard a pilgrim near a temple gate Crying, "I have no fear if thou art Fate;
Morn, eve, and noon, if I look up to thee, Wilt thou at night look down, remembering me?
Nay, then, my sins so great, my service small"— So prayed he at the gate—"forget them all;
Of claims and rights a load the while I keep, How in thy nights, O God, to smile and sleep?"
"Pilgrim," I said, "hath He, who toils the while, Bade thee, of burdens free, now sleep and smile?
Who built the hills on high and laid the sea, Set in thy heart that cry, 'Remember me.'"
From Persian Moralities.
THE END
American Contemporary Novels
LET NOT MAN PUT ASUNDER
By BASIL KING
This is the tenth of the twelve One-a-Month American Novels to be published during 1901.
"The new volume in the American Novel Series, which will, we doubt not, more than justify that undertaking in the eyes of American readers. Mr. King has a firm grasp of character; ... he handles dialogue with epigrammatic felicity, and he has something to say.... Mr. King's study of his heroine is an admirable performance.... A novel worthy of the notice of all thinking and observing Americans. Its qualities as a story are deepened by its meaning as a study of temperament and changing social conditions."—Richard Henry Stoddard in New York Mail and Express.
"'Let Not Man Put Asunder' is clever, spicy, absorbing, and thought-inspiring—a book with many missions.... A novel in which the problems of unhappy marriage and separation are very seriously and comprehensively considered."—New York World.
"The story moves through unusually brilliant dialogue and a series of exciting scenes to its swift and inevitable conclusion."—Public Opinion, New York.
"A book that fairly throbs with intense interest from start to finish.... Its characters are living portraitures. It is thoroughly sane and sound."—Philadelphia Item.
Comments from various reviewers:
"Masterfully handled."
"A most powerful drama of life."
"As timely as it is well done."
"A book to be respected."
"Mr. King is a 'coming' man."
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American Contemporary Novels
Eastover Court House
By HENRY BURNHAM BOONE and KENNETH BROWN
This is the first of the twelve One-a-Month American Novels to be published during 1901.
"If each of the novels of American life by American authors which Messrs. Harper & Brothers project for the current year proves as good as 'Eastover Court House,' the twelve volumes will constitute a decided addition to American fiction."—Detroit Free Press.
"Its charm lies in the constant succession of strongly drawn pictures of life. One chapter after another presents these scenes, as sharply outlined and deep in shadows as an artistic photograph. The book ... is absolutely fascinating."—Louisville Courier-Journal.
"Set in the midst of the fox-hunting and cross-country regions, there is the hoof-beat of the galloping hunter all through the story, which is full of dry humor and vivid pen-pictures of life."—Horse Show Monthly.
"The horse stories are the best since David Harum's, and quite as laughable as his."—Chester Times.
Comments from various reviewers
"A good story well told."
"Strong and absorbing."
"Warm with life, with the passions and emotions ... of Virginia."
"Wholesome, true to life."
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American Contemporary Novels
The Sentimentalists
By ARTHUR STANWOOD PIER
This is the second of the twelve One-a-Month American Novels to be published during 1901.
"A novelist who sets out to depict a character like Becky Sharp is likely to come to grief. Hence it is surprising that Mr. Pier has not failed in portraying the social exile, Mrs. Kent. The novel is strong and clever."—Pittsburg Commercial-Gazette.
"It is a very clever novel. There is story to it; there is apt phrasing and clear delineation of character; there is much incisive and delightful epigram."—Evening Sun. New York.
"If the cleverest parts of this work had been entirely cut out, we should have called it one of the cleverest novels of the season."—Brooklyn Daily Eagle.
"The book is characterised throughout by keen analysis and a delightful sense of humor."—Chicago Tribune.
Comments from various reviewers
"Mrs. Kent is distinctly American."
"As interesting and unique as Becky Sharp."
"The book will be a success."
"A rattling good story."
"A vivid study of contemporary social life."
"One of the cleverest novels of the season."
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American Contemporary Novels
MARTIN BROOK
By MORGAN BATES
This is the third of the twelve One-a-Month American Novels to be published during 1901.
"It is written in a style unknown nowadays, ... with an impressive power revealed at each crisis of the tale, which makes the pulses stir and the eye glisten. What a book for the opening of the twentieth century!"—Julian Hawthorne, in the Journal, New York.
"A very striking book, and one that I am quite sure will take an enviable place in line with record-breakers. It is the third of the 'American Novel Series,' and is entitled 'Martin Brook.' I finished it at one sitting, so intense was my interest in it."—Buffalo Commercial, N.Y.
"The third of the 'American Novel Series,' 'Martin Brook,' by Morgan Bates, appeals to the best in man and woman, and is a credit alike to author and publishers.... 'Martin Brook' is indeed an American novel, and of the best kind."—Philadelphia Daily Evening Telegraph.
"One's interest is caught and held by the hero from the moment of his first appearance in its pages.... There has not been a stronger scene [the library scene] written to revive the interest of jaded novel readers for many a day."—N.Y. Commercial Advertiser.
"The story is told in a vigorous manner, and is certainly out of the common run of fiction as it is told nowadays."—New York Sun.
Comments from various reviewers:
"One of the most refreshing and natural of novels."
"As good as it is charming."
"A story of depth, color, and action."
"It is refreshing to light upon a story like 'Martin Brook.'"
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American Contemporary Novels
A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES
By GERALDINE ANTHONY
This is the fourth of the twelve One-a-Month American Novels to be published during 1901.
"It plunges the reader directly into the social whirl of New York, and the hand that detains one there all through an intensely interesting succession of functions, flirtations, and incidents, ... is the hand of one who has seen something whereof she writes."—New York World.
"There is more than one thinly disguised portrait in its pages—so we are told."—Mail and Express, New York.
"Bobby Floyd is probably the most disagreeable and wholly exasperating cad ever put into an American novel.... There is love-making all through the book."—The Times, Washington, D.C.
"They fall in love amid most delightful surroundings of tennis, boating, and driving."—Exchange.
Comments from various reviewers:
"Devoid of problems or mental complications."
"A book for a summer day."
"Has the correct New York social atmosphere."
"Decidedly a fascinating book about attractive people."
"Full of touch-and-go conversation."
"They all revel in smart talk and repartee."
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DAYS LIKE THESE
By EDWARD W. TOWNSEND
This is the fifth of the twelve One-a-Month American Novels to be published during 1901.
"Mr. Townsend has given us a novel that is a strong and vigorous picture of contemporary New York. He tells his story with the gayety and charm and light-hearted high spirits of one to whom the passing show of life is still full of interest, and he succeeds in interesting the reader. There is not a dull line in the book."—New York Journal.
"The love story is well told, but the chief interest of the novel lies in its contrasted pictures of New York life—from Fifth Avenue to Hell's Kitchen."—Cleveland Plain-Dealer.
"Mr. Townsend has made a very striking and daring use of his experience as a newspaper man.... He has gone about his business with vigor and decision.... There is hardly a chapter which does not stand out through sheer force of the author's fund of anecdote and observation and humor."—New York Commercial Advertiser.
"It is an eminent success.... We recall very few novels of the past year that we have read with such sustained interest."—The Churchman, New York.
Comments from various reviewers:
"The book has countless good things."
"'Days Like These' is full of life and New York."
"A kaleidoscopic yet homogeneous picture of modern New York life."
"His pictures are vivid and true."
"Mr. Townsend writes incisively, vigorously."
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American Contemporary Novels
WESTERFELT
By WILL N. HARBEN
This is the sixth of the twelve One-a-Month American Novels to be published during 1901.
"A good, ingenious story, which grows more and more interesting as the author proceeds."—Richard Henry Stoddard.
"It is a highly dramatic presentation of the warring forces of human passions, conscience, and distorted religious beliefs. The story from first page to last is vibrant with sustained power."—The Outlook, N.Y.
"I have only words of praise to write of 'Westerfelt.' It is an uncommonly good story, wherein is presented a very interesting picture of American life as known in the author's native state."—Boston Times.
"Mr. Harben has lived among North Georgia people; he has learned their ways and their life; and, learning this, he has woven these people and their life into a story full of charm and truth. It has the best claim on the attention of the public—it is thoroughly readable."—Atlanta Journal.
Comments from various reviewers:
"A love story, pure and simple."
"Unusual and unhackneyed."
"Full of dramatic elements."
"One of the best novels."
"Strong throughout."
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Transcriber's Notes:
Maintained original spelling and punctuation of the dialect.
Maintained original hyphenation.
Obvious printer errors have been corrected.
