She opened her uncle’s letter, the moon falling in soft sheets about her.
It was upon that letter that for a moment the new fate seemed to hinge. He had written to say that his affairs were in better shape; that he had, in fact, sold the factories, advantageously; that some money of Julie’s, which he had long ago invested for her, would now be available for her. He urged her to come home; he was perfectly sure that the East was no place for a girl alone. She need not live with Mrs. Dreschell, if she did not choose to, but with more congenial relatives.
The girl sank once more into thought. She sat a long time staring at the moon-lit night, at the fire-flowers dropping through it like soft sparks. Over her came at last the conviction that she would never leave—that the gates of the East had indeed closed after her for good. There would be no more turning. She was going straight on, only struggle, everlasting struggle lying ahead. Things were moving toward something over here, and rather than all the safe paths of the world she would choose this vivid, perilous existence. That was what the levels had done for her—taken out all fear. She remembered Barry’s high peak, where from him also fear had dropped. Here the Hunger had been vanquished. Back in that forlorn spot, she had fought the Plague, and lost; but the Plague had fought the Hunger, and won. There were big forces over here, to fight with or against. Everything for her must be created new. In the silence of the night, she recalled a vision of waiting and watching that she had seen in this same garden. Yes, she would go farther on.
She reached down for the papers, which had slipped to her feet. She wanted to see if that stroke of fate—Independence, had come. The most recent of the papers was two days old, and conveyed the information that the bill had failed to pass the Congress of the United States.
There would be no Philippine Republic! The significance of this stupendous fact did not penetrate her all at once. Oddly scattered, different thoughts filtered through her mind.
Fate had decided aright. It would take these people awhile longer to make ready to meet the future. And if Isabel were right in her prophecies of the coming clash of the world, they would certainly be best as they were—till the earth were made safe for such little peoples as they.
Isabel’s dreams then were fallen—and Barry’s hopes were realized. Slowly the full realization of the turn of events broke upon her consciousness. The aims and hopes of Barry and Isabel could never have been united—never in any case. She saw that now.
Where then was Barry? The question flashed through every atom of her.
Her eyes, which unconsciously had wandered down the columns of the paper at which she was staring, rested on Barry’s name—and the monstrous, incredible thing printed with it!
A process of deadly ossification, starting with her feet and traveling to her brain, seemed to be rooting her to this spot forever.