The Land of Content

by Edith Barnard Delano

She was no exception among the women of her sort; newspapers made uninteresting reading. She looked first with a slight distrust at the flaring headlines on the front page, then turned to the social notes. Those exhausted, an advertisement or two caught her attention; and then there seemed to leap at her the words: "TOBET FREE." She read, almost at a glance, the short paragraph which followed.

"The Federal authorities have failed to obtain sufficient evidence to convict Joseph Tobet, of Long Mountain, of the charge of illicitly distilling the so-called 'White Lightning.' Tobet had been under suspicion for some months, and was arrested last October, but the charge against him has been dismissed, and the man was set at liberty yesterday."

The paper dropped to her feet. She wondered what effect this would have upon Grace, and remembered the note of warning. But, just from New York as she was, such doubts or fears seemed too utterly trivial to be of account. Joe might threaten, Doctor Ogilvie might shake his head, and Grace, poor soul, might tremble; but the arm of the law was, after all, a sure protection. There was really nothing that Joe could do; and she dismissed the thought of him for the more welcome one of Ogilvie.

The day before, her impatience had been boundless. She had not doubted that she should seek him out at once, as the most courageous thing to do, tell him what Pendleton had said, and of Flood's absence in the West; that, she told herself, would surely be enough. He would then understand.

But to-day, as she drew nearer the end of her journey, her resolution faltered. He had been stupid; his doubts had wronged her; his restraint, if such it had been, was unfair to them both, and had stolen something from their love which there would never be time enough to replace. It was not the woman's part to offer apologies; it was the man's part to have faith, or, at the very worst, to seek explanation. If he could so deny himself, if her love was so small a thing to him that he could bring himself to do without it, was it for her to urge it upon him?

Her revulsion of feeling went still farther. Life, she told herself, was after all pretty much the same, wherever it was lived. To give happiness to Eleanor and Tim, to care for Yetta—that was what had justified her spending the winter in the mountains; she could have done as much in town. If she had not found sincerity of purpose and singleness of aim among her earlier friends, it was because she had not learned to look for it. She had only chosen the easier part, not the higher; it was easier to be sincere and simple in the mountains than in town where life was more crowded. It was she who had been at fault in not finding in the old life what was more plainly to be seen in the new; she was so small a creature that she could not reach high purpose through confusing interventions, but must have it laid before her in bareness and singleness. And what was, in truth, her feeling for this man who could so readily doubt her, or, at the very least of his offending, hold himself aloof from her through any consideration whatever? Aside from his belief in her baseness, had he not been willing to sacrifice her for his friend? Would not love, such love as she felt herself worthy of receiving, have put aside without a thought of misgiving anything and everything but the glory and necessity of its own demands?

All the way her mind was busy with such problems of its own making. The journey seemed long. She told herself that her impatience was only to end it, to reassure herself by the sight of him; yet the impatience was there. It was mid-afternoon when she alighted, remembering her last return. She wondered whether White Rosy would be there, and bent, on her way down the car, to look along the platform.

But the only familiar form was the important person who combined the functions of station master, storekeeper and retailer of news. He grinned when he saw her, and came towards her with unusual alacrity.

"Well, I declare," he said, "got the news a'ready, have ye? Bad news sho'ly does travel fast!"

She stood still and looked at him. His eyes brightened still more when he perceived that he was to be the first to inform her.