courthouse yard, the evening after the
party, I stopped on my way home to see Marjie a moment. She had gone
with the Meads out to Red Range, her mother said, and might not be back
till late, possibly not till to-morrow. Judson was sitting in the room
when I came to the door. I had no especial reason to think Mrs. Whately
was confused by my coming. She was always kind to everybody. But somehow
the gray shadows of the clouded moon of the night before were chilling
me still, and I was bitterly disappointed at missing my loved one's face
in her home. It seemed ages since I had had her to myself; not since the
night before my trip to Topeka. I stopped long enough to visit the
"Rockport" letter-box for the answer to my letter I knew she would leave
before she went out of town. There was no letter there. My heart grew
heavy with a weight that was not to lift again for many a long day. Up
on the street I met Dr. Hemingway. His kind eyes seemed to penetrate to
my very soul.

"Good-evening, Philip," he said pleasantly, grasping my hand with a firm
pressure. "Your face isn't often clouded."

I tried to look cheerful. "Oh, it's just the weather and some loss of
sleep. Kansas Augusts are pretty trying."

"They should not be to a young man," he replied. "All weathers suit us
if we are at peace within. That's where the storm really begins."

"Maybe so," I said. "But I'm all right, inside and out."

"You look it, Philip." He took my hand affectionately. "You are the very
image of clean, strong manhood. Let not your heart be troubled."

I returned his hand-clasp and went my way. However much courage it may
take to push forward to victory or death on the battle field, not the
least of heroism does it sometimes require to walk bravely toward the
deepening gloom of an impending ill. I have followed both paths and I
know what each one demands.

At our doorway, waiting to welcome me, stood Rachel Melrose, smiling,
sure, and effusively demonstrative in her friendship. She must have
followed me on the next stage out of Topeka. Behind her stood Candace
Baronet, the only woman I have ever known who never in all my life
doubted me nor misunderstood me. Somehow the sunset was colorless to me
that night, and all the rippling waves of wide West Prairie were shorn
of their glory.

CHAPTER XV

ROCKPORT AND "ROCKPORT"

Glitters the dew, and shines the river,
Up comes the lily and dries her bell;
But two are walking apart foreve