# Rare Earth/Chapter 3

Chapter III
Roma sighed deeply as she sat there by the fire. All her efforts seemed futile. She could not comfort her husband. Nor could she do much for Scobee whom she loved better than a son. Scobee from infancy had always thought of the house as his mother. Into the house his mother had woven her dreams. And the dreams Scobee knew and understood. He who had never known a living mother, had never been motherless. The house had showered a world of affection upon him that was priceless. When his father had married again he rebelled against a stepmother. Later as he grew to understand the fine type of woman that Roma was he had accepted her as a friend.
​The wish of her life was to be a real mother to the queer little boy but she was frustrated at every turn. He was polite to her. He treated her as a friend that was all. In time she grew resigned to his attitude. When he had gone to war on that last night before leaving for camp, she had been very close to him. For one brief moment she had felt as though he were really her son. Softly she had kissed him on the forehead.
"Now close your eyes," she had said. "Forget that I am here. Think only of your mother. Say a silent farewell to her. She is in this room. Her heart is almost broken. Now I will go so that you may be alone with her."
In the morning Scobee had left while all the house was still sleeping. He had joined his chum, Rad Graham, who had gone with him never to return. Rad had been killed in the Argonne, happy-go-lucky Rad who always had a joke and a smile for everyone. What had happened to that joyous spirit that returned no more to Galvey?
All this Roma thought of as she sat there ​alone before the open-fire. Her whole life had been rather tragic. She had been brought up on a bleak farm in Wolf Run in Western Pennsylvania. Her father had been possessed of a mania to find oil. For oil he had sacrificed everything, happiness that was far more dear. To escape from a drab existence Roma had married Hans Geist who had bought a rough farm in Galvey, Illinois.
During the first winter they had labored in the fields like beasts, for they had no money. Then Hans was found frozen in the snow. Afterward Roma went on living alone on that silent farm. For companionship she bought a dog, a dog that barked. She had plowed her own fields, sown her own wheat and done the most arduous tasks about the farm. Then Jethro Trent had noticed her. She was following a plow across the fields. It was the most beautiful vision he had ever beheld. Soon afterward they were married.
But even then happiness eluded her. Scobee whom she loved, rebelled against her. Finally after years of patient waiting he ​acknowledged her as a friend. Even then she could not find peace. For the War had come taking away all the young men of Galvey, killing Rad Graham and blinding Scobee, sending him home a poor broken soldier with a hurt in his heart that could not heal. He had lost his eyesight and his greatest pal. Could Roma ever be happy again?
It seemed to her that night as she sat before the blazing embers that the clouds of war would never lift from over their home. And now Jethro was passing through a period of anguish which was infinite.
Once more she sighed. As she did so old Hung Long Tom crept slowly down the stairs. He had been sitting by Scobee's bedside. The two had always been inseparable companions.
"Old fellow," Scobee often said, "you must never leave me now. I see everything through the eyes of Hung Long Tom. Perhaps I see things even more beautifully than I ever did in my life. You are a mighty comfortable sort of person to have about."
​Scobee was very brave. He had been through horrors which are unprintable. They had taught him to be stoic. Quite his hardest ordeal had been that hour when Dallis Graham, the girl to whom he was engaged, had discovered that he could not see. It had taken place in the attic. He had not told her. She had noticed that he did not know when she left the chair in which she had been sitting and went to the window. Although realization of the awful fact had been a severe blow to her, in that moment she had loved him more than ever. For now she could be of definite help to him. She wished to marry at once but Scobee would not listen to her.
"There is a famous eye surgeon in Chicago," he said slowly. "His name is Steinlin, you must have heard of his work. Hung Long Tom is endeavoring to arrange a meeting for us. If Steinlin can do anything for me, I'll marry you at once. If not—well, I couldn't bear to think that you were married to a man who could not see."
"You are unfair," she said. "I want you ​more than anything in life. You are mean to me when you refuse to make me happy."
He leaned back in his chair and closed his sightless eyes. His mind seemed doubly acute now that his eyes had failed. He was passing through the gravest crisis of his life. Willfully he was giving up the girl he loved. The War had separated them as completely as though he had been dung to a distant planet. He lived in a Sad Country. In such a country there was no place for Dallis. Of course it was hard for her. It had been hard when her brother Rad had been killed. Still eventually she would get over it. Some other fellow would come along and Scobee would be forgotten. Not pleasant to contemplate but inevitable.
At last he said, "For awhile at least let's forget everything and pretend we are children once more without a single care or trouble in the world."
"All right," she agreed. It was better to adopt his mood. "But if we are children, you have rather broken my doll, you know."
A month later Scobee and Hung Long Tom ​had gone to Chicago. Doctor Steinlin had made a thorough examination of Scobee's eyes. His verdict was rather disquieting. Scobee had asked for the truth and Steinlin had respected his wishes.
"I can do nothing," he said. "Apparently there is little the matter with your eyes. The nerves are shocked in some peculiar manner. Perhaps some day your sight may return of its own accord."
"However," broke in Scobee, "you believe that if such a thing should occur it would be a miracle."
"That's putting it rather bluntly," said Steinlin hesitantly.
"But truthfully nevertheless," persisted Scobee.
"Yes," was the reluctant admission. "I would indeed consider it a miracle. I have had much experience with cases almost similar to yours. I have never been able to effect a cure."
For awhile Scobee sat in silence. His life was growing to be nothing but one shock after another. It meant that all romance for him ​was over. There was no future. Only a past that was a wistful memory. He must resign himself to the permanent loss of Dallis. Of course she was true to him but he refused to accept sacrifices from her.
Fifteen minutes later as they left Steinlin's office, Scobee said, "What is to become of me?"
"Who knows?" replied Hung Long Tom. He was more deeply shaken than he cared to admit. "For myself I refuse to lose hope. Somehow I feel that your life is not yet done. Somewhere there is a brilliant future for you. We must ponder the matter deeply, study it from every angle. Have courage. Why, you're not much more than a child, not half your life has been lived. This is a momentary lull. Although it is broad daylight we are lost in the weird blackness of night thoughts. What is it that the poet has written about night?
'The night blackness Is a velvet curtain That descends in great folds Upon the fields of tea,
So that grave spirits Of the sky and hills And dragons from beneath The mountains high May walk the earth And stretch their limbs and cry, Making strange sounds For which the wind is blamed. Where is the man Whose eye is trained so keen That he can see Beyond the screen of Night? What strange tales lurk Within the velvet folds; Only the moon And cold night wind May know.'
There is much in life that man does not understand. The material world is only the owner of one-third of our lives. Two-thirds is spiritual. The material world in the person of Doctor Steinlin has evidently failed. But from the spiritual we have not heard. In spiritual things there is promise. That is why so many ​people in an emergency turn to religion. The subject is a big one. It is well worth mulling over. Your future is of vast importance. What we do now may change the current of your life. I would not admit to anyone how bad things are, not for the present anyway. It would be too cruel. Truth is often harsh. Dallis, it seems to me, has suffered enough. To all who ask we will say there is nothing we can do but wait. If necessary, gradually we can let the truth seep out. But after all we ourselves do not know the truth. We know what one well-known doctor has told us. Only time can verify his beliefs. I myself have beliefs that are contrary to his. I prefer to think on a spiritual plane. In spiritual things there is always hope. It is a question of faith. That is the true worth of any religion. In its faith it justifies its being. I cannot explain my feelings to you, but I would wait. As yet in any case we know but little."