V.
It was Sunday, and the little valley was still with the stillness of warm, drowsy, quiescent life. At noon, the narrow road stretching between the shadowless barley-fields was haunted by slender, hurrying spirals of dust, like phantoms tempted by the silence to a wild frolic in the sunlight. The white air shimmered in wavy lines above the stubble. Em shut her eyes as she came out of the little church, as if the glare blinded her. Steve was waiting near the door, and a sudden, unreasoning hope thrilled her heart. He was looking for some one. She could hear the blood throbbing in her temples. He took a step forward. Then a red silken cloud shut out her sun, and the riot died out of her poor young heart. 'Rene was smiling up into his sunburned face from the roseate glory of her new parasol. Em walked home through the sunlight with the echo of their banter humming in her ears.
Ben sat on the porch watching for her, a feverish brightness in his sunken eyes.
"Was 'Rene at church?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes, Ben."
Em stood behind his chair, looking down at the cords of his poor, wasted neck. Her eyelids burned with hot, unshed tears.
"Did she look nice—did she have anything new?"
"Yes, she had a new parasol. She looked real pretty." The girl spoke with dull, unfeeling gentleness. Ben tried to turn and look up into her face.
"She's been wanting it all summer. I told her 'way long in the spring that I'd get it for her birthday. I wonder if she forgot it? I didn't have any idea I'd be laid up this way."
Em stood perfectly still.
"I'll bet she was surprised, Em," he went on wistfully; "do you think she'll come over and say anything about it?"
"She'd better," said Em, setting her teeth in her bright under lip.
The invalid gave a little, choking cough, and looked out across the valley. A red spot was moving through the stubble toward the house. He put up his hot hand and laid it on Em's cold fingers.
"Mother tried to fool me about the money," he said feebly, "but I think I know where she got it. I don't mean to forget it either, Em. I'll pay it back just as soon as I get up."
"Yes, Ben."
The girl dropped her cheek on his head with a little wailing sob.
"Yes, Ben, I ain't a bit afraid about my pay." Then she slipped her hand from under his and went into the house.
The red spot was drawing nearer. Mrs. Wickersham glanced through the open window at her son.
"Benny's looking brighter than I've seen him in a long time," she thought. "I guess his ride yesterday done him good."
And in her little room Em sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall through blinding tears.
"I wish I had it all to do over again," she said. "I'd do it all—even if I knew—for Ben!"