The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-08-16
CHAPTER XVII

John placed log on the fire, went
to the doorway, stood looking out
across the lake. Dusk was falling.
The last reflection of the sunset had
faded from the still surface of the
water. Across the lake a loon
screeched mournfully through the 81
lence. John closed the door and re-
turned to the fire.
He should prepare something for
supper, he thought, standing ir-
resolutely on the hearth with his
back to the fire. Funny how he had
come to dread getting supper. When
that had been accomplished, the day
was definitely over and night had
begun. He was able to get through
the day fairly well. While the sun
shone, he made fishing from the ca
noe or lying on the float an excuse
for being out of doors. But the
nights were unbearably lonely.
He shouldn't have returned to the
cabin. He should have taken the
walking trip through Canada which
he had half planned when DR.. Sar-
geant had insisted that he take a
two weeks vacation until the Boston
matter was settled one way or an
other. He would be able to make
the decision he must make more
calmly and with less pain anywhere
in the world except here. The cabin
was filed with ghosts of Gay. He
saw her everywhere, on the couch
with the lamplight falling across her
hair; seated on the footstool beside
the hearth in characteristic posi-
ton, her arms hugging her knees;
coming out through the door Of the
bedroom she and Kate had occupied,
her face fresh and smiling after a
long night of sleep, in jersey and
Stacks, ribbon around her hair
He hadn't expected to feel as he
did. He had thought that he would
be able to make the decision here.
He had not questioned his ability to
think clearly and logically, to disci-
pine his emotions. Strange that
he had not considered the pignant
insistence of memories, the ghosts
of Gay that lived on in the cabin.
But he must make a decision. If
he secured this post in Boston, he
would have to, decide whether he
was willing to have her there with
him, using her own money to pro-
vide a place for them to live or
whether it was wiser, for her ulti-
mate good and his own, to make a
definite break and follow, alone, the
course he had charted for himself
before he had declared his love to
Gay. 1t was all or nothing. There
could be no compromise. The next
time they met
But would they meet again? He
had sensed in her letters a change
in her feeling for him since she had
returned from her visit to Maine.
He couldn't blame her. 1t had been
pretty awful for her, as estranging
as his visit to New York. She loved
him. He did not question that. He
loved her. But was love enough?
Was it as fresh and as steadfast
now as it had been here at the
cabin last fall? Could any love sur
vive the misunderstanding, the
quarrels, the pickering to which
their love had been exposed?
Wouldn't it be better?
He wouldn't think of it, now. He
would build a fire in the kitchen
range and prepare supper, making
long job of it to keep night from
coming too soon.
He went out into the dusk, filed a
basket with chips and birch logs.
None of his senses was secure from
ghosts of Gay. The smell Of pine
needles and freshly chopped wood
recalled the night she had slipped
out of the cabin to meet him, the
night Todd Janeway had arrived.
His eyes lifted above the pile Of
chips. They had sat there, leaning
above the logs. She'd worn al soft
white dress fastened up under her