The Argosy, April 1916 — page 48: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

38 the thicket had been almost too much for him. , But—the old house was _ inhabited. Smoke curled from the kitchen chimney. “Glory to God! Here’s breakfast in my own home,” he tried to shout. Then a blackness settled down upon his brain, and he fell flat on his face. CHAPTER XIX. A DREAM AND THE REALITY. ROM out of a silver cloud the gold-red hair of Beverly floated down almost to him, so close that Yale could see the wealth of unminted gold mingled with the red fire that did not melt it. So close that the violet eyes looked into his and stirred him with a delirious happiness, and then turned to a mocking misery all his longings. They were very changeable, those violet eyes.- At times they looked unutterable love. At other times they flashed and burned and grew dark with scorn or anger. And he was a prisoner, changing his wearisome position only so much as the heavy iron chains that bound him would permit. 3 But she of the changing eyes was not his only visitor. Sometimes the man with short hair and prison pallor would come to him, tower above him like a hateful giant, leer with half-closed eyes and scornful, angry lips, and plunge a knife into his right foot. Then, as the hateful man of a prison cell faded away Beverly would come on the wings of a zephyr, for she never walked, and pull out the knife and bandage the sore foot with ribbons of the dawn just like her hair. After a time other phantasies assailed him, and a rumbling tone of thunder and total darkness told him that he was in one of the ante-chambers of the infernal re- gions. One day he realized that instead of float- ing in space, as he had thought, he was on a bed. He felt the warm comfort of smooth, soft blankets. His right foot had no feel- ing in it, which surprised him, because it had constantly pained before. He realized that a bandage so covered his eyes that no light could reach them, and he had sense enough not to disturb it. He was entirely undressed, and wore a long night-shirt. Where was he? Vaguely he remembered THE ARGOSY. the accident to the automobile, and knew that Williams had not come to his assist- ance when he lay stricken among the ever- greens. He wondered at Williams acting like that. 7 He lay there perfectly still, trying to think out an explanation. That horrible tramp through the woods came back to him with a painful vividness. He remembered seeing the smoke from the kitchen chimney of his own home. Was he in his own house now? Was he in some near-by farmhouse? Was he in a ‘hospital? He could not tell. Pog He moved his left foot, and felt no pain. He tried to move his right foot, and felt so little of anything that he did not know whether he had moved it at all. Curling himself, he touched it, and found it a bundle of bandages. He lay thus for a long time. Then sud- denly he became aware that some one was in the room. There was no noise, but a subtle instinct told him that a human being was at his bedside. The foot of the covers was lifted and a firm but gentle touch © rested on the bandaged foot. He knew when the Presence moved away. And when it returned. A strong arm, smell- ing of the farm, passed under his head, which was gently lifted as by a powerful levers under perfect control, and a glass was put to his lips. He drank—a bitter dose—and his head was laid upon the pillow again. Almost immediately he went off into a sound sleep that had no visions. When again he woke it was with eyes that saw, and he lay there marveling. The bandage was gone from his head. Above him giant rafters slanted from the peak:to the side of the room. He was in an unfinished room in an attic. He had been in such a room when a boy, and the wide, thick beams were like friends he had known long ago. His gaze roved. There was nothing the matter with his sight. At one side of the bed the beams of the outer wall were so close he could touch them. His eyes espied something like carving. He remembered that when he was twelve years old he had spent a summer on the farm with his grand- father and grandmother, and that his grand- father had given him a pocket-knife which had been the pride of his heart. He had slept in such a room as this, and one rainy day had occupied his time by COMmiclboo Cc SS C@