The Raymer enterprise., 1922-04-27
CHAPTER Mx-cehtinu.d.

de got Ddck into the motor car;
the man who drove them quickly to-
ward the valley talked easily and
steadily to Peter, attempting to inter-
est him In the affairs of some water
company In San Francisco. When they
got to the valley . city train was ar
riving, and Peter saw people looking
at him furtively and sorrowfully. He
remembered the many. many times
Alix had waited for him at the trains;
he glanced toward the big madrone
under which she always parked her
car. She was usually deep In book
as he crossed from the train, but she
would fling It into the back seat and
make room for him beside her. The
dog would bound Into the tonneau.
Alix would hand her husband his
mail, the car would start with q great
plunge toward the mountain-toward
the cool garden high up on the ridge
.
Cherry looked small and pathetic In
her fresh black, and her face was
marked by secret incessant weeping.
But the nurses and doctors could not
say enough for her self-control; she
was always composed, always quietly
helpful and calm when they saw her,
and she was always busy. From early
morning. when she slipped into the
sick-room. to stand looking at the un-
conscious Martin with q troubled. In
tent expression that the nurses came
to know well, until night, she moved
untiringly about the quiet. shaded
house. She supervised the Chinese
boy, saw that the nurses had their
hours for rest and exercise. telephoned,
busted and arranged the rooms, saw
callers sweetly and patiently. filed
vases with flowers.
Every day she had several vigils in
the sick-r0om. and every day at least
one long talk with the doctors. Every
afternoon and evening had It's callers;
she and Peter were rarely alone.
Martin was utterly unconscious Of
the life that flowed on about him;
sometimes he seemed to recognize
Cherry. and would stare with painful
intentness into her face, but after
few seconds his gaze would wander
to the strange nurses, and the room
that he had never known, and with
. puzzled sigh he would close his eyes
again. and drift back into his own
strange world Of pain, fever and un-
consciousness.
Almost every day there was the
sudden summons and panic In the old
houss, Peter going toward the sick.
room with thick beating at his heart,
Cherry entering, whlte>faced and with
terrified eyes. doctors and nurses gath
ering noiselessly near for the last
scene In the drama Of Martins suffer.
ing. But the release did not come.
There would be murmuring smong
the doctors and nurses; the pulse was
gaining, not losing. the apparently
fatal, final symptoms were proving
neither fatal nor final. The tension
would relax; doctor would 80,
nurse slip from the room; Cherry,
looking anxiously from one face to
another, would breathe more easily.
II was Inevitable, she knew that now
but It was not to be this minute; 1t
was not to be this hour!
my dear-my dearl" Peter said to
her one day. when spent and shaken
she came stumbling from Martins bed
side and stood dazedly looking from
the window into the soaking October
forest, like a person stunned from
blow. my poor little Cherry! III
could spare you this!"
Nobody can spare me now!" she
whispered. And very simply and
quietly she added: '1f I have been a
fool-if / have bean q selfish, wicked
Girl all my life. l am punished!
"Cherryr be protested, heartsick to
see her 30.
'waS n wrong for US to love each
other. Peter" she asked In a low tone.
II suppose It was! suppose It was!
But It never seemed as If" she shut
her eyes and shlyered-'as if-thIs-
would come Of I'll" she whispered.
sThfn!" he echoed aRbast
"Oh, think this is punishment"
Cherry continued, In the same lifeless,
weary tone.
There was a silence. The rain
difpped and dripped from the red
woods, the room In which they stood
was In twilight, even at noon. Peter
could think Of nothing to say.
About two weeks after. the accident
there was change In the tone Of the
physicians who had been giving al
most oil their time to Martins case.
There was no visible change in Mar
tin, but that fact In itself was 30 sur
psising that It was construed into q
definite hope that he would live.
Not az be had lived, they warned
his wife. It would be but restricted
life; tied to his couch, Or permitted,
at best, to move about within small
boundary on crutches.
Martini" his wife exclaimed plre-
ously, when this was first discussed.
'He has always been 30 strong-so
Independent He would rather-he
would infinitely rather be deadl" But