The time taken to think soberly of confession told more plainly than all her words how much she desired it. The one thing in life which Elizabeth most disliked was duplicity, and yet so long as he remained an invalid their relations would be kept up. For this alone he would have been glad to crawl on his knees to Colebyville, though he died on the way. Something must be done to free the girl and put her back into a life of which she could approve. With self-respect restored, Elizabeth was the kind of woman who would take hold of the merely unpleasant features of her life, and in time find a way of overcoming them. A plan began to formulate in Hugh Noland's head.

The next morning Hepsie came and asked for a few days off to get some needed sewing done. With Hugh's illness and the extra work of it she had let her own work drag till she felt that she could neglect it no longer.

Elizabeth let her go, thinking guiltily that there would be less danger of the discovery she seemed to be ever fearing these days. How they had gone so long without it she could not understand. To get her dinner dishes out of the way early she put Jack to sleep immediately after they were through eating and then hurried the dishes so as to get in a long afternoon's reading. The dishes took a long time in spite of her efforts to hurry.

When at last she did finish she hastened to the bedroom with a gla.s.s of water in her hand. Hugh had been thinking seriously and was worn out with the tangle of wrongdoing in which he found himself, the solution of which involved such unsatisfactory changes, and now just weakly wanted to be loved. He did not speak, but after the tablet was swallowed invited a kiss by a glance of the eye, and when it was given, drew her head down on his breast and lay patting it.

Jack had wakened and toddled into the room on his sleepy little legs. The child staggered over to his mother and laid his head against her arm, murmuring sleepily:

"Love oo too!"

Elizabeth Hunter sprang to her feet as if a clap of thunder had unexpectedly sent its report through the hot afternoon air. Her guilty eyes sought Hugh's. Jack encircled her knees with his fat little arms and, standing on his tiptoes to be taken, repeated:

"Love oo too!"

There was a noise at the well and Elizabeth, glad of a chance to escape from the room, went out. John was pumping water over a jug to cool it before he filled it. The sight of the man who was her husband had a curious effect on Elizabeth; everything in her, mentally and physically, became chaotic, her ears buzzed, her temples throbbed, and there was an inner shrinking which could scarcely be controlled. John had seen her and waited for her to come out to the well.

When the jug was full, John leaned forward to kiss Jack and a sick sort of fear took hold of her lest he would offer to kiss her also. His breath fell hot on her neck as he sought Jack's face on her shoulder, but he did not offer to kiss her, and she turned away with an unspeakable relief.

"Take Jack and I'll carry the jug out to the boys while you have a chat with Hugh," Elizabeth said suddenly.

John was very tired, the field where they had been cutting shock corn was very hot, and the house looked cool and inviting.

"Well, I guess I will."

The jug was heavier than Elizabeth had thought and she sat down to rest on the way, observing as she did so that Doctor Morgan was driving into the lane.

"I am not absolved from blame because he scolds," she told herself.

As she thought of her duties in life, Jack's affectionate little speech of half an hour ago came to mind. Aye! there was the crux of the whole difficulty. She was Jack's mother! A line of Emerson's which she had read with Hugh once came to her mind: "In my dealings with my child, my Latin and my Greek, my accomplishments and my money, stead me nothing. They are all lost upon him: but as much soul as I have avails." Her whole mind was taken up with the quotation as soon as it came before her.

"As much soul as I have avails!" Over and over she repeated it, and when she at last saw John bearing down upon her she got up guiltily and waited instead of going on with the jug alone.

"Was it too heavy?" he asked. "I'll take it over and come back for you.

Doctor Morgan wants to see you. I'll come back; it's too hot for me; I'm going to rest."

The cool house had appealed to John Hunter.

At the house Hugh Noland was asking searching questions of the old doctor.

"When do you intend to let me get out of here, Doctor?" he asked.

"Out of here?" the doctor exclaimed. "Not till you're well enough. Just what do you mean by 'out of here?'" he asked in return.

"Just what I said. When will I be well enough to go to Mitch.e.l.l County?"

There was an intensity about it which caught the doctor's attention.

"Now look here, Noland, you won't go to Mitch.e.l.l County for a year with such a heart as that--it's too far from your friends, my boy. Be good and don't you get to worrying. You've got to stand it. Be a man."

Had Doctor Morgan shown any tenderness Hugh Noland would have told him the real reason for wanting to get away, but something in the banter of being admonished to be a man took away the thing which made it possible.

"Then can't I be taken into town?" Hugh asked when he had had time to swallow the bitter pill.

"Into town? Now? Well, not that anybody knows of at this time. Now look here, you've got a splendid place to stay; why can't you be sensible and lay here and get well? You worry till I might as well go and turn this medicine down the gullet of one of Hunter's pigs. Be a man," he repeated, hoping to whip the discouraged patient into line with good sense.

"It isn't a case of being a man, when a woman's got to take care of you that had better be taking care of herself," Hugh said bitterly.

"Is Mrs. Hunter getting down on our hands too? That won't do. I'm glad we sent for her."

Hugh Noland knew that he had played his last card, and he knew that he had lost. Elizabeth walked in at that moment, followed by John. Doctor Morgan addressed himself to her, taking her aside while they talked.

"All moonshine, Noland, old boy," he exclaimed when he followed Elizabeth back to the sickroom a few minutes later. "This girl's as sound as a dollar. Noland's been thinking he's too much trouble, Mrs. Hunter."

Doctor Morgan saw Hugh Noland's colour die out, and dropped his finger on the patient's wrist apprehensively. Neither spoke. To change the subject, and also to get a chance to observe the sick man under less conscious circ.u.mstances, Doctor Morgan addressed John:

"By the way, Hunter, that man you bought the team of got in a pinch and asked me to shave the note for him. It's all right, is it?"

A sort of electric thrill ran from each to all in the room. Doctor Morgan understood that he had unwittingly opened Pandora's box; Hugh gave no sign, but though John answered promptly and positively in the one word, "Surely," a warning was somehow conveyed to John that this was more than a merely unfortunate moment. He had been uncomfortable about the note, and under ordinary circ.u.mstances would have been glad to have the first knowledge of it come to Hugh in the presence of a third party, but now, by some indefinable thing which was neither sight nor sound, he knew that the news was not news to Hugh, and by the same intangible, vague thing, by some prophetic premonition, John knew that this matter of the note was a disaster.

There was a long pause, finally broken by Hugh.

"Will you be going home by Hansen's to-night, Doctor?"

"I can as well as any other way," the doctor said, glad to hear voices again.

"Will you ask Hansen to come over in the morning, then?" Hugh asked.

Both Doctor Morgan and John Hunter looked over at Hugh sharply, wondering what he could want of Luther, but the sick man closed his eyes as a way of ending the argument. Doctor Morgan dropped his finger on the patient's wrist again and looked at John warningly:

"I think I'll be going. You stay with Noland, Hunter. I want a word with Mrs. Hunter before I go. I'll stop at Hansen's, Noland."

Doctor Morgan took Elizabeth out and questioned her closely about the diet and other important matters, but was able to elicit nothing new.

"I've been encouraged of late," the old doctor said, shaking his head, "but here he is as bad as ever--that is, as discouraged and restless. Have you been reading to him lately? What's on his nerves, anyhow?"

When the doctor could get no additional information regarding Hugh's condition from Elizabeth, he gave it up and turned his attention to the girl herself.

"I told him you were as fine as a dollar, but I'm not sure about you. I'm going to bring you a tonic to-morrow. I'll be out in the morning, early, and I'll try and see him to-morrow night late. I don't like the way he looked to-night. Say, you don't know what he wants of Hansen do you?"

"No. He asked me to go over yesterday afternoon after him, but Luther wasn't there and hasn't come in since. It's a busy time and he probably thought very little of it. Hugh often sends for him. Do you think he's worse, Doctor?" she asked anxiously.

"No, not specially," the old doctor answered gruffly, as he turned toward Luther Hansen's house. He was a bit annoyed because he thought Hugh showed too little backbone, as he termed it.

John Hunter sat long beside the invalid, cut to the quick by the languid air and shrunken frame. He wanted to talk about the note now that it was not a secret, but Hugh lay absolutely silent and did not open his eyes until the lamp was brought in. At that he shifted uneasily and asked that it be kept in the other room till needed at medicine time. John finally gave it up and went softly out, convinced that Hugh wanted rest and quiet.

John was broken in many ways by the continued illness for which he felt himself responsible, and had particularly wanted a chance to talk to-night.

When all had gone to bed but Elizabeth, Hugh called her to him.

Elizabeth answered the call, but stood at a distance from the bed. It had come. Hugh had always known it would, but now that it was here it was hard to face.