The Oakley herald. [volume] (Oakley, Idaho) 1908-1961, 1923-09-14
THE BR HANDING IRON

| tenlng.
John Carver had used a phrase,
rWhen you see her eyes lookin' an
| iookln' at another man" and this
phrase had stuck In Pierres sensitive
and Jealous memory What Joan felt
for Holliwell was sort OF ignorant
and respectful tenderness. the excite
ment of an intelligent child first moved
| to a knowledge Of its own intelligence;
the gratitude Of savage loneliness
toward the beautiful feet of explora-
| ton. A consciousness of her clean
mini, consciousness of her young,
| untamed spirit had come slowly to life
in her since her talk with Holliwell
Joan was peculiarly woman-that Is,
the passive and receptive being.
Pierre had laid his hand on her heart
and she had followed him: now this
young parson had put a curious finger
on her brain. II followed him. Her
husband saw the admiration. the graft
tude. the tender excitement In her
! frank eyes, and the poison seed sown
by John Carver's hand shot out roots
and tiny. deadly branches.
But Joan and HolliweIl were I'M
aware. Pierre smoked rapidly, rolling
cigarette after cigarette; he listened
with a courteous air. he told stories
| In his soft, slow voice; once he went
out to bring in fresh log and. COM
| ing back on noIseless feet, saw Joan
and her instructor bent over one OF
the books and Joan's face was almost
that of a stranger, so eager, so flushed.
with sparkles In the usually still gray
eyes.
1t was not till a week or two after
this second visit from the clergyman
that Pierre's smoldering jealousy
broke into flame. After clearing
away the supper things with an abb
sent air Of eager expectation. Joan
would dry her hands on her apron,
and. taking down one of her books
from their place In shelf corner, she
would draw her chair close 10 the
lamp and begin to read forgetful OF
Pierre. These had been the happiest
hours for him; he would tell Joan
about his days work, about his plans,
about his past life; wonderful 1t was
to him, after his loneliness. that she
should be sitting there drinking In
every word and loving him with her
dumb, wild eyes. Now, there was no
talk and no listening. Joan's absorbed
face was turned from him and bent
over her book, her lips moved, she
would stop and stare before her
After long while he would get up
and got to bed. but she would stay
with her books till a restless move
ment from him would make her aware
of the lamplight shining wakefulness
upon him through the chinks in the
partition wall Then she would get up
reluctantly, signing, and come to bed.
For ten evenings this went on,
Pierre's heart slowly heating itself,
until, all at once. the fame leaped.
Joan had united her apron and
reached up for her book. Pierre had
been waiting, hoping that of her free
will she might prefer his company to
the 'sparson feller's"-for In his igno-
rance those books were jealousy per-
sonified-but, without a glance in his
direction. she had turned as usual
to the shelf.
"You goin' to readT' asked Pierre
hoarsely. 1t was a painful effort to
speak.
She turned with childish look Of
establishment Eyes, Pierre"
He stood up with one Of his 1.-THE,
swift movements, all in one ripping
piece. by Cd, you're not, though J"
said he, strobe over to her. snatched
the volume from her, threw 1t back
into its place and pointed her to her
chair
"You set down an give heed to me
fer a change, Joan Carver" he said,
his smoke-colored eyes smoldering. 81
didn't fetch you up here to read par
sons books an waste oil. I fetched
you I'D hereto" He stopped,
choked with a sudden, enormous hurt
tenderness and sat down and fell 70
smoking and staring, hot-eyed. into
the fire.
And Joan sat silent in her place,
puzzled, wistful, wounded, her idle
hands folded, looking at him for
while, then absently before her, and
he knew that her mind was busy
again with the preacher feller's books.
If he had known better how to explain
his heart, II she had known how to
show him the impersonal eagerness of
her awakening mind But, savage
and silent, they sat there, loving each
other, hurt, but locked each into his
own impenetrable life.
After that Joan changed the hours
Of her study and neglected homework
and agebrush-grubbing, but nonethe-
less were Pierres evenings spoiled.
When he talked he could not escape
the consciousness of having con-
strained his audience; she could not
escape her knowledge Of his jealousy,
the remembrance OF his mysterious
outbreak, the irrepresslble tug Of the
story she was reading. So 1t went on
till snow came and they were shut In,
man and wife. with only each other
to watch. a tremendous test of good
fellowship. This searching intimacy
came at bad time, just after Holli-