"And on you."
Stephen stepped into his car beside Fickes. For a while he stared at the floor, his arms folded, his mind a blank. Gradually the expression of his eyes changed, the pupils darkened. There waited for him at the hospital a woman who had hastened a slow fire with coal oil; the problem was even more difficult than that of Mrs. Fetzer, but he had determined to solve it. He planned a course of treatment. He would offer to take the next twenty burned cases at the hospital.
Presently he lifted his head and glanced about at a landscape which recalled his visit to Edward Levis—was it two years or ten since he had made his sudden descent upon him? Here was a friend! He believed that he could even tell Levis his troubles; it would do him good. He sat a little more erectly.
Then suddenly an electric thrill passed through his body. He was free! Tears pressed upon his eyelids—he turned his head so that Fickes might not see them—tears of profound relief. What anxiety and torment had been his! And it was past, decently past, and he had played the part of a man throughout. Moreover, no public shame, no irremediable disaster had terminated the nightmare. Hilda's valedictory was heard by only a few persons,—her uncle, Dr. Good, Fetzer, upon whose devotion he could stake all that he had in the world, and this unknown but apparently trustworthy creature through whose quickness a serious calamity had been avoided. He would tell Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane where Hilda was, and he would inform a few of the older friends whom she had inherited from her parents, and to whom she had paid an indifferent attention; then all would be concluded except the pitiful end of her poor life.
They had begun to descend the hill toward the Kloster, and Stephen looked at it curiously. When he visited Levis they would come over here and prowl about. Ah, there were a thousand things to do in the world, a thousand places to visit! Hilda had liked only main-traveled roads on which there were theaters and shops; they had never seen the interesting countries, the Far North, the tropics, Ceylon, Carcassone, the church of Brou, the Far East. He was able to smile at the old white-bearded man pottering about among the graves in the cemetery of the Kloster, as though he smiled at Time himself.
Opening the door of his office he found Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane and went at once to work. There were a dozen patients waiting, and as many to be informed that he had returned. Miss Knowlton smiled at Miss MacVane when he began to prescribe for a patient whose treatment would be extended. He meant evidently to stay. But at other times he had meant to stay and had been persuaded to go away. When he said that Hilda was in the King Sanatorium they expressed their regret and went on with their work. They were conscientious souls and both felt a vague self-reproach.
When he had had his dinner he returned to his office. But he was tired; he would go for a walk. The night was clear, the air soft, and the river reflected the stars. He ran up to his room, where he found his housemaid engaged in laying back the covers of his bed. Ellen expected to go out and she had coiled her hair on top of her head in the transforming fashion condemned by Fetzer. She looked up and answered Stephen's "Good-evening" with a bright flush. Her heart beat quickly; it seemed to her now that it was never quiet. Stephen looked at her, confused, as though she were a stranger.
"It's a warm night, isn't it?"