davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

ST must" and he added to the sur
prised servant: do as I tell you d.
rectly."
Where are YOU goingf" she asked
wonderingly.
I'm going to Mrs. valentine's."
about Sibylia. Mr.. Imason; and she'll
be back tomorrow"
Grantley was. convinced that she. at
least, was innocent of any plot. Sim
pie sincerity spoke on her face, and all
her thoughts were for herself and her
dearly cherished fearful hopes.
Il must see Sibylla on a matter Of
urgent business tonight" he said.
It'll be hardly safe up on the
downs she expostulated
It'll be safe enough for me-" he an
swered grimly. Don't sit up for me:
and look after the baby" He smiled at
her kindly, then came and patted her
hand for a moment. Yes. 1t would be
hard to pick up a life that's once
broken, 1 expect" he said.
She looked up at him with a sudden
apprehension in her eyes. His manner
was strangely quiet; he seemed to her
gentler.
There, mean nothing but what I
say" he told her soothingly I must
go and get ready for my ride"
But, Mr.. 1ma-nn. you'll take some
thing to eat first?"
I can't eat" He laughed a little.
Il should like to drink, but 1 won't.
Good night, Mrs. Mumple."
Ten minutes later he was walking his
horse down the hill to Milldean, on
his way to Fairhaven. But he had lit
tie thought of Mrs. Valentine; he had
no belief in that story at all. It served
purpose, but not the purpose for
which it had been meant. What 1t did
was to remove the last Of his doubts.
Now he knew that Christine's sugges-
ton was true. He was going to Fair
haven not to find Sibylla at, Mrs. VAL
entine's, but to seek Sibylla and Blake
he knew not where.
He thought not much OF Sibylla. He
had taught himself to consider his
wife incalculable-a prey to disordered
whims, swept on by erratic impulses
This whim was more extraordinary,
more disorderly, more erratic than any
Of the others; but 1t was of the same
nature with them. the same kind Of
thing that she had done when she de-
termined to hold herself aloof from
him. This blow had fallen entirely and
utterly unforeseen. but he acknowl-
edged grimly that it had not been un-
foreseeable. He thought even less OF
young Blake, and thought of him
without much conscious anger. The
case there was very plain one He
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04
seeeeeeeee0e0e0eeeeeee Observation-Disclosures eee go

Not a line. But she doesn't write
much TO me"
Again Grantley looked at the paper.
Then he laid it down and took up his
pen.
Now for the deed" he said and
drew il to him.
He signed. Thompson fulfilled the
formality for which he was required.
and then left them alone. Jeremy did
not break out into new thanks. That
unexplained something in Grantley's
face forbade him.
4 can only say that I'll try to JUS
tify your extraordinary kindness, he
said soberly.
Grantley nodded absently. as he rose
and put Christine's letter into the fire.
II was better there-and there was no
danger that he would forget the con-
tents.
I say, there's no bad news. is
there?" Jeremy could not help asking.
NO news at ALL good or bad" an
swered Grantley, as he held out his
hand. "Good-by and good luck, Jer-
emy."
Jeremy took his hand and gripped it
hard, emotion finding a vent that way.
Grantley returned the pressure more
moderately.
Remember, under no circumstances
a word about It to Sibyllal" he said.
Il give you my honor"
Good"
He released Jeremy's hand and
turned away. He had much self-con-
troll, but he could not be sure Of what
was showing on his face.
Jeremy had his great good fortune
but his Joy was dashed. Grantley
looked like man whom heavy calam-
ity finds unprepared.
All the finer of him to sign the deed
then and there" Jeremy muttered as
he left the house. Whatever has hap
pened, he didn't forget his word to
me-"
But il was not OF Jeremy or of his
word that Grantley had been thinking
when he signed. His signature was a
defiance of his wife and Of his fate:
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04
seooeeseoo0oooooeees eoeeaoee

man enveloped in oilskins stood here,
glistening through the darkness in the
light of a gas lamp. He was looking
out to sea, out on the tumble of angry
waves. stamping his feet and blowing
on his wet fingers now and then. 1t
abroad, he who was out tonight had
business.
Rough weather!" called Grantley,
bringing his horse to a stand.
The man answered, not in the ac-
cents of the neighborhood, but with a
Cockney twang and a turn of speech
learned from board schools and news
papers. He was probably a seaman
then, and from London.
Terribly severe" he said. No
night to keep a man on the lookout" i"
He looked at Grantley, evidently not
knowing him.
he added; but it's better to be NOV
ing than standing here, looking for a
beat that's as likely to come as the
channel squadron!" He spat scorn-
fully as he ended.
Looking for a boat?"
For the moment Grantley was glad to
talk; it was a relief. Besides he did
not know what he was going. to do, and
caught a brief respite from decision.
Aye, the man grumbled, "a boat to
come from Portsmouth. Best luck for
her if she's never started and next best
if she's put in for shelter on the way.
Shed never make Fairhaven tonight. T"
Then what's the good of looking for
herr"
Because 1 get five shillings for it,
The owners waiting for her-waiting
at the Sailors Rest there" He pointed
to the inn hundred yards away. She
was to have been here by midday, and
he's in a hurry. Best for him If she
doesn't come, If he means to sail to-
night, as he says he does" He paused
and spat again. Pretty weather for
a lady to go to sea, ain't it?" he added
sarcarstically.
The fates were with Grantley Imason.
They sent guidance.
What boat is t?" he asked quietly.
1.-The Ariadne" (Hairy Adny he pro-
nounced the name).
"Ah, yes, Mr.. Blake's yacht?"
You know him, sir? Well, you'll
find him and his lady at the Rest
there, and If you're a friend of theirs
you tell 'em not to expect her tonight,
and not to go on board her If she
comes
Here's another shilling for you. and
good night"
Grantley strode on to the inn, thank
ing fate, realizing now how narrow the
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

chance had been. But for the storm.
but for the wind that had buffeted and
almost beaten him, no pride, no reso-
luton, would have been Of any avail.
With fair weather the yacht would
have come and gone. He saw why
Christine Fanshaw was not to deliver
his letter till the morrow. Without the
storm, no pride, no resolution, no cour-
age would have availed him. The
Ariadner would have put to sea, and
Sibylla would have been gone forever.
Now, thanks to fate, she was not gone.
Grantley drew a long breath-the
breath OF a man whom a great peril
has narrowly passed by. The plan had
been laid WELL but the storm had
thwarted 1t. There was time yet.
Was there? That question could not
but rise in his mind He faced it fairly
and squarely, and logged on to the
Sailors Rest.
Praise to this fine storml'' he cried
within himself-to the storm which
beat and ragged, which. had feigned to
hinder his coming, but was his ally and
friend. Good luck to ii! 1t had served
his turn as nothing else could. And
how it was attuned to his mood-to the
fierce stern conflict which he had to
wage! This was no night for gentle
ness. There were nights when natures
gentleness Knocked the strife to which
ner own QecreeS condemned the race of
men. But tonight she herself was in
the fight. She melted, she cheered, she
played him on, and she had given him
his field OF battle. He was arrayed for
the fight. He drank IN the violent salt
air as though II were a potion magic in
power. His being tingled for the
struggle.
There was a light in an upper win
dow Of the Sailors Rest. The blinds
were not drawn. No, the pair in that
room were looking out to sea, looking
for the boat which did not come, look
ing In vain over the tumbling riot Of
waves. But stayl Perhaps they looked
no more now; perhaps they had aban-
doned that hope for the night. Chris
tine was not to deliver his letter till
the morrow; they would think that
they had tonight The thought
brought back his pain and his
f1erceness. They would think that
they had tonight. They were
wrong there; but it was ten
o'clock. "Ten o'clock" he muttered, as
he drew rein at the door of the Sailors
Rest and cast his eyes up to the light
In the window over his head.
Within. young Blake was turning
away from the window
"She won't come tonight" he said.
II suppose they started, or I should
have had wire. They must have put
back, or put in for shelter somewhere.
And If she did come I couldn't take
you to sea tonight" He came across
to where Sibylla sat over the fire It's
no use expecting her tonight. We
must get away tomorrow morning.
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

Mumple's servant girl came to the door,
and said her mistress was up at his
house, and was, she thought, to stay
there all night. Grantley nodded, and
began to trudge UP the hill. He had
no thought but to seek and find Sibyl-
la 1t was now between Z and s, and
dusk had fallen.
He saw a light in the dining-room
windows. He walked into the hall and
took off his hat. A servant saw him
and ran to help him. Saying briefly
that he would want some dinner, he
went into the dining-room. Mrs. Num-
pie sat there alone over chop.
You come home, Mr.. Imason!" she
exclaimed. "Sibylla didn't expect you,
did she?''
"No, I didn't sexpect to come. I
didn't think could get away. and it
wasn't worth wiring. Where is ST.
bylla?"
How unIuckyi She's gone away-to
Fairhaven. She didn't expect you.
She's to sleep the night there"
He came TO the table and poured
himself out glass of sherry. He was
calm and quiet in his manner.
ITO sleep at Fairhaven? Why, who's
she going to stay with?"
Mrs. Valentine. You know her? She
lives by the church-a red house with
creepers."
Mrs. Valentine was, as he knew, an
old, but not an intimate, acquaintance.
He shot a keen glance at Mrs. Num-
pies simple broad face.
I'm here to look after baby. But, OF
course. since you've come"
mo, no, you stay here; and go on
with your dinner. They'll bring some
thing for me directly"
He pulled up a chair and sat down.
ITO sleep at Mrs. Valentines? Has
she often done that before when I've
been away?"
"She used to as a girl sometimes, Mr..
Imason; but no, never lately, think
not since she married"
There were no signs Of disturbance
or distress about Mrs. Mumple. Grant
ley sat silent while the servant laid a
place for him and promised some din
ner in ten minutes.
HAS Sibylla been all right?"
"Oh. yes. A little fretful the last
day or two, think. But Mr.. Blake
came over from Fairhaven yesterday,
and she had a nice walk with him;
and she was with baby all the morn
ing"
'An the morning? When did she go
TO Fairhaven?"
IT think it was about 8 o'clock. It's
a terrible evening, Mr.. Imason."s
VERY rough, indeed"
1.-THE wind rose quite suddenly this
morning, and it's getting worse every
minute"
Grantley made no answer. After a
pause the old woman went on:
i've got some news"
News have you? What news?"
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

had known young Blake in the days
When aspirations did not exist, and
when the desire to be good was not part
of his life. He took him as he had
known him then, and the case was very
simple. Whatever an attractive woman
viii give. men like Blake will take.
recking of nothing, forecasting nothing,
careless of themselves, merciless to her
whom they are by way of loving In
regard to Blake the thing had nothing
strange in it. Here, too, it was uneX-
pected. but again by no means unfore-
seeable.
No, nothing had been unforeseeable;
and in what light did that fact leave
him? What flavor should that give to
his meditations? For though he rode
as quickly as he could against the gale
and the rain which now blinded and
scorched his eyes, his mind moved
more quickly still. Why, 1t set him
down as a fool intolerable-as the very
thing he had always laughed at and
despised, as a dullard, a smpleton, a
dupe. He could hear the mocking
laughter and unashamed chuckling, he
could see the winking eyes. He knew
we'll enough what men thought of him.
They had attributed to- him success
with women; they had joked when he
married, saying many husbands would
Ieel SaIer, tney nad liked hi / and ad-
mIred him, but they had been of opin-
ion that he wanted taking down a peg.
How they would laugh to think that he
Of all men had made such a mess of it.
that he had let young Blake take away
his wife-young Blake, whom he had
often chaffed for their amusement or
instructed for their entertainment!
1mason had got a pretty wife, but he
couldn't keep her, poor old boy. That
would be the comment-an ounce of
pity to a hundredweight of contempt,
and-yes, a pound of satisfaction. And
1t would be all true. Somehow-even
allowing for Sibylla's vagaries and un-
accountable whims. he could not tell
how-something he had been a gross
dupe, blockhead blindly self-satisfied,
a dullard. easily deluded. fool readily
abandoned and left, so intolerable that
not all his money, nor his
houses, nor his carriages could make
IL worth while even to go on with the
easy task of deceiving him. He was
not worth deceiving any more; 1t was
simpler to be rid of him. In the eyes
of the world that fact would be very
significant of what he was And that
same thing he was in his own eyes
now. The stroke Of this sharp sword
had cloven in two the armor of his
pride; it fell off him and left him
naked.
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

He was suddenly on the alert.
She glanced at the door TO make sure
the servant was not within hearing.
Very great news for me, Mr.. Ina
son. My dear husbands to come three
months sooner than ] thought. / got
letter to say so just after Sibylla
started"
"Oh, really Capital, Mrs Mumple!"
It's only a matter of six months
now. You can't think what l feel
about it-now it's as near as that.
haven't seen him for hard on ten years.
What will it be like? I'm full of joy
Mr.. Imason: but somehow I'm afraid
too-terribly afraid. The thought of
it seems to upset me, and yet l can't
think Of anything else"
Grantley rubbed his hand across his
brow. Old Mrs. Mumples talk reached
him dimly. He was thinking hard.
This sleeping at Mrs. Valentines
sounded an unlikely story.
Mrs. Mumple, in her turn, forgot her
chop. She leaned back in her chair
clasping her fat hands in front of her
we shall have to pick UP the old
life" She went on. After seventeen
years. 1 was 35 when he left me, and
nearly as slight as Sibvlla herself. I'm
past so now, Mr.. Imason, and it's ten
years since I saw him; and he's above
60, and-and they grow old soon in
there. It'll be very different, very diff
ferent. And-and I'm half afraid of
IL, Mr.. Imason. It's terribly hard to
pick up a life that's once been broken -
The servant brought in Grantley's
dinner and Mrs. Munple pretended to
go on with her chop.
Nurse said I was to tell you Mas
ter Frank is sleeping nicely" the SER
want said to Mrs. Mumple, as he placed
a chair for Grantley.
That was a strange story about Mrs
Valentine
I'VE must have patience and love
on" said Mrs. MumDle. Hes had a
grievous trial and so have l. But
don't lose hope. All's ready for him
his socks and his shirts and ALL I'm
ahead Of the time. I've nothing to do
but wait. These last months'll seem
very long. Mr.. Imason."
Grantley came to the table
You're a good woman, Mrs. Num-
ple," he said.
She shook her head mournfully. He
looked at the food. pushed 1t away and
drank another glass of sherry.
Don't think I've no sympathy with
you. but-but I'm worried"
Nothing gone wrong in town, hope,
Mr.. Imason?"
mo"
He stood there frowning He did
not believe the story about Mrs. VAL
entine. He walked quickly to the bell
and rank it loudly.
Tell them to saddle Rollo, and bring
him round directly"
You're never going out on such a
night2" she cried.
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

that all his talk OF what he would do
should not come TO naught. In turn
Dora. Eva and Anna passed through
his mind. each bringing her own in
fiuence TO bear, giving him new pic
ture OF the future. And why refuse?
If ever a gift had been freely, grandly
offered. this was. Would it not be even
churlish TO refuse? Reasons or no
reasons, his heart and his hands went
out instinctively; he could not refuse
the beginning OF all things.
Giving his head a restless little jerk
as at last he accepted this decision. he
CHANGED TO turn his eyes on Grantley's
face His attention was caught and
arrested by it There was something
strange there. The cheeks were rather
pale. the jaw set rigidly. Grantley read
his letter with a curious engrossment-
not hurriedly nor offhand, as a man
generally reads when other business is
at a standstill till he reaches the end.
He turned back, II seemed, once or
twic, 70 look at another sentence again.
Even Thompson aWoke 10 the fact that
he was being kept waiting long while,
and that the groom would probably
finish the beer and go away, leaving
their important discussion unfinished
and the proper odds unascertained.
Grantley had recognized Christine
Fanshaw's large irregular handwriting,
than an invitation TO dinner. But he
was not reading an invitation to dinner
now.
Z have Just heard from Sibylla-
from Milldean. She incioses a letter
for you, which she says 1 am TO send
on 20 you tomorrow. She insists that
I am not to send It before; and IL I
won't do as she asks, I am TO burn II.
You are not TO have II to-day. I can
not disobey her in this, but she says
nothing about my telling you she has
sent a letter: the only thing is that I
must not deliver 1t TO you till to-mor-
row. I had no idea you had let her
90 down TO Milldean alone. How could
you let her Go this? There is one other
thing I must say 70 you. Walter Blake
was to have dined here tonight. This
morning he wired excuses, saying he
was going for a cruise in his yacht.
You must consider what that means. ]
beg you not TO wait for the letter, but
go TO Milldean this afternoon. Say
nothing Of having heard from me.
Just go as If by accident; say you got
your work done sooner than you ex-
pecteo, or anything you like, but go. I
believe you'll be sorry all your life If
you don't go. Let nothing stop you,
for your own sake, and still more for
hers.-C. F"
That was the letter; the sentence he.
had turned back TO reread was the one
in which Walter Blake's movements
We're mentioned.
Grantley looked across to Jeremy.
Have you heard from Sibylla since
she went TO Alilldean?" he asked
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

There's plenty of time" He meant
time before Grantley Imason would re-
ceive Sihylla's letter and come to Fair
haven, seeking his wife.
It's too perverse," Sibylla muir
INJURED forlornly.
Her vision of their flight was gone.
The rush through the waves, the whis-
Ting wind, the headlong course, the
recklessness, the remoteness from all
the world, the stir, the movement. the
excitement-all were gone. On the
yacht, out in mid-sea, no land in
sight, making for a new world, they
two alone, with all that belonged to
the old life out of view and out of
thought-the picture had caught and
filed her fancy. In her dream the sea
had been as Lethe. the stretch Of wa
ters a flood submerging all the past
and burying the homes Of memory.
She had stood arm in arm with him,
reveling in the riot of the open seas.
No further had the vision gone The
room In the inn was very different. 1t
was small, stuffy and net too clean.
The smell of stale tobacco and of dregs
of liquor hung about it. The fire
smoked, sending out every now and
then a thick dirty cloud that settled
on her hands and hair. Her dainty
cleanliness rose in revolt. 1t was a
sordid little room. 1t was odious then;
II NOulQ never De plodSdul III IelIO-
spect. Somehow it carried a taint with
it; ii brought into prominence all that
her thoughts had forgotten; its four
,dinsy walls shut out the glowing pic
ture which her fancy had painted.
Blake came and stood behind her
chair. laying his hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at him with a sad smile.
"Nothing's quite what you expect"
she said. Il wanted my voyage! 1
suppose / didn't want-realityi But
I'm not a child, Walter. l have cour-
age. This makes no difference really"
''Of course it doesn't = so long as
we're together
II didn't come to you to make the
good times better. but to make the bad
times good-to do away with the bad
times. That's what you wanted me
for; that's what 1 wanted to do" She
rose and faced him. 80 I'll always
welcome trouble-because then I'm
wanted, then can do what I've come
to CO."
Don't talk about trouble, sibylla.
We're going to be very happy"
Yes, I think So" she said, looking
at him with thoughtful eyes. Il think
we shall be-
by God, 1 love you SOL" ne burst
out suddenly, and then walked off to
the window again.
She spread out her hands in an in
stinctive gesture of depreciation, but
her smile was happy.
That's how / can do what / want
to do for you," she said. That's how
1 can change your life, and-and find
something to do with mine"
The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04
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The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

He came slowly back toward her.
speaking in low restrained voice;
It's really no use WAITING Ior ths
boat. She won't come.
Sibylla stood very still; her eyes
were fixed on his face He met her
gaze for a moment, then turned away,
sat down by the table and lit Gig
arette-doing 1t Just by habit and be-
cause he was so restless not because
he wanted to smoke.
She stood there IN silence for two
or three minutes. Once she shuddered
Just perceptibly. She was striving to
yield. to do what he asked, TO live up
TO her gospel Of giving everything so
that she might make happy him whom
she had chosen 10 receive her gifts
might make him happy, and so NIL, en-
rich, and ennoble his life and hers. she
had not thought there would be a
struggle; that had got left out in the
visions-the visions which were full OF
the swish OF the wind, and dance OF
the waves, and the sailing to worlds
new and beautiful What struggled
Old teachings, old habits. instincts IN
grained. She was acting In obedience
to ideas, not to feeling. And feeling
alone has power to blot such things out
of being.
Rut for good and evil she was ia
natic-she owned her ideas as masters.
and forced herself to bend to them as
a slave. What they asked must be
given-whatever the sacrifice, the
struggle, the repulsion. That they
might realize what her nature craved,
they must be propitiated by what her
nature did not love. On that condition
alone would they deal with her. and
now these ideas. with all their eXacting
relentless claims, had found embodi-
ment in Walter Blake
Blake turned his head and looked at
her. She came quickly to him and fell
on her knees by him His hand rest
ed on the table, and she laid hers
lightly on It.
walter. it's hardl"
"If you love me -" he nnurmured.
She knew by now that love can be
unmercifuL With a little sigh she
raised his hand and kissed II. She
was half reconciled to her surrender
because she hated II. Had any one
been there to interpose and forbid, her
reluctant acceptance would have been
turned into an ardent desire to com
plete her sacrifice.
Young Blake flung away his cigarette
and sprang TO his feet. He was not
thinking of his aspirations now. Want
Ing to be good was not present to his
mind, nor the leading Of a new life.
He was full of triumph. He forgot the
yacht that had not come, and any
thing there might be uncOngenial in
the surroundings. He caught Sibyl-
las hands. She looked at him with a
smile half OF wonder, half Of pity She
had put away her neutrality-suspicious. it
might come back; but it was a little