Chapter 22

The Chinese Legend

"Well, well, well! What does this mean?" The doctor looked in amazement at Miss Blair as she opened the door to his rap, the same evening that Moore gave his dinner to her brother. Traces of tears were to be seen; indeed, more tears seemed ready to fall, despite her effort to restrain them.

"Come right in, doctor!" Winifred made no pretense of answering his question, but busily engaged herself in pulling the easiest chair to the cheerful grate fire. "I believe that I am more glad to see you than anyone else in the world," she added, affectionately, as she motioned her caller to the comfortable corner. "Now we'll have a nice, long, cozy evening."

"What does this mean?" repeated the doctor, with the privilege of friendship, not to be put off.

"You should know better than to ask a woman why her eyes are red--it isn't polite! Are mine very red?" she asked, ruefully. Before he could answer: "Let us talk of Fort Benton, and of what good times we'll have when we are there again to live happy ever after. Really, I mean it," she said, earnestly, seeing his questioning face. "I want to forget--everything but Fort Benton."

Still her visitor looked at her keenly, until she sat silent under his scrutiny. He was not deceived. Nevertheless he humored her for the moment, knowing that she was no match for his astuteness when the time came to probe her hurt.

"Fort Benton, eh? You know the weak spot of the old doctor, you 'rastical'," whimsically. Then, more seriously: "I, too, wish we were there. Like you, I am sick of Helena. We were all happier, better off, in the little old trading-post--before--the railroads came." He ascribed all evils to the course of empire as exemplified in the steel rails of commerce. "The Latimers, the Burroughs, the Halls, Bill Moore, you and Charlie--every one of you moved away. Phil and I are the only ones left; and since he is in the Legislature I spend almost as much time in Helena as at Fort Benton."

"There's Mr. O'Dwyer."

"I forgot him. Yes, O'Dwyer stays near Danvers--he left the Police to go to him, you know." As he looked around the room he asked, "Where's Charlie to-night?"

"He's dining with Mr. Moore at the club."

"With Moore?" The doctor, surprised, repeated her words.

"Yes. I--didn't know--they weren't friends."

Something in her hesitation gave her visitor an opportunity to ask: "You do not care very much for the Honorable William?"

"No, I do not!" came the quick response.

"Yet he is accounted quite a ladies' man; and," tentatively, "I can see that he is quite infatuated."

"He can get un-infatuated," interrupted Winifred, with no pretense of misunderstanding.

The doctor was pleased at this outburst. He had been an observer of advances and repulses between these two. Now he was thinking of another affair whose recent complications were giving him much concern.

"You wouldn't call him a gentleman?"

"Oh, no. He's a politician."

"That's rather hard on the rest of us who are dabbling in politics."

"You know what I mean!" Winifred made a pretty _moue_, her chin upturned, showing clear against the leaping flame. As her companion noted her sweetness he almost longed for his bygone youth.

"I sometimes think I have missed a good deal by not marrying," mused the doctor, with seeming irrevelance. "But the role of husband was too exacting a one for me!"

Miss Blair gave his hand a gentle pressure which conveyed her disbelief.

"We bachelors are rather a forlorn class, when the years begin to count up; and as for the women who do not marry----" He left her to complete the observation.

"They are not all forlorn," defended Winifred. "But I will admit that the unsuspected longings of some of them are pathetic. Here is a case in point. I had a caller this very afternoon--a woman of middle age who used to work for us. She was in distress because she had received an offer of marriage. From a worldly standpoint she is foolish not to accept the man, for he is worthy of her, and could provide a home. When I ventured to say as much she cried, and showed me this clipping from some old paper. Shall I read it?"

The doctor assented, and Winifred rose and took a slip from the mantel.

"'_There is an interesting old Chinese legend_,'" she read, "'_which relates how an angel sits with a long pole which he dips into the Sea of Love and lifts a drop of shining water. With an expert motion he turns one-half of this drop to the right, where it is immediately transformed into a soul; the other half to the left--a male and a female; and these two souls go seeking each other forever. The angel is so constantly occupied that he keeps no track of the souls that he separates, and they must depend upon their own intuition to recognize each other._'"

The old man reached for the paper as Winifred ceased. She was silent as he glanced it over.

"That old legend did not seem trite to her; it does not to me," said the girl, as the doctor looked up. "I asked her to leave it for me to copy."

"And the woman?" reminded the doctor.

"She stood before me, gaunt, unlovely, growing old. As I read her clipping she clasped her hands tensely. 'Don't you see why I don't marry him?' she cried, and all the romance and persistent hope of her lifetime came to her faded eyes. 'Because I want to find my other half. Because I want--Love.'"

"She is all right, and I respect her," said the doctor. "Too many women sacrifice their personality in loveless marriages."

"I am in doubt," speculated Winifred, "whether the women who lead colorless, unloved and unloving lives are not happier after all. They have fewer troubles. Men are very interesting, but they can make a woman's life so miserable, too."

More than a hint of pathos in this, thought the listener. "How about a girl making a man miserable?" he inquired. "A girl who has love--deep, sincere love waiting her recognition?" The surgeon took the knife resolutely.

"I don't know what you--I was speaking in general----"

"Somewhere in the Bible, I think, somebody goes about seeking whom he may devour. Nowadays women go about looking for trouble. I've known that kind before, Winnie, but I never saw anyone fairly gallop after it as you do."

"Why, doctor!"

"My dear," the friend put his hand caressingly on her own, "why do you repulse Danvers' love? Do not be offended," he said gently, as she pulled away.

She hid her face in her upturned hands. Suddenly it was sweet to feel the solicitude of a love so like what she had dreamed a father's might be.

"I can see, dear child. I know Philip as I know my own heart. I think I know you (so far as a man can understand a woman)," he stroked her hair fondly, "and you are making a mistake."

"No, I'm not," came in a whisper. "I--you don't know--about--Charlie----" Tears fell fast, relieving the suppressed anguish of weeks.

"Oh, yes, I do." His words fell like balm.

"Charlie has been so good to me all these years. I can't bear to see him--drift. You know--I can't say it----"

"Don't say it," counseled the doctor. "I understand perfectly."

"And yet," with quivering voice, "you ask me why I turn Mr. Danvers away! Can't you understand--knowing his love for Judge Latimer? Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she gasped; but soon controlled herself. "And I'm afraid Charlie will vote for Mr. Burroughs because----"

"Exactly!" The doctor used the truth unsparingly. "Eva has secured many votes for Burroughs. But we'll hope that Charlie can be held in line. He has promised Danvers to vote for his candidate--the governor."

"Oh, but I'm afraid!" wailed the girl. "And if--oh, he would despise us both--we are of the same blood! If it were not for this dreadful contest I might be so happy!" Confession shone in her eyes.

"Thank God!" said the old man, reverently. "He has been good to you--both." He kissed the hand that trembled in his. "You have made me happy, too."

They sat in silent communion, the old man watching the play of emotion on the girl's sensitive face, now free from the look of anxiety that had been so apparent.

"Love is one long heartache," said the girl, plaintively. "Wouldn't you think, doctor, that if a man cared----"

"If that isn't just like a woman!" interrupted her companion, thinking he knew what Winifred was trying to say. "Women must have it in words. You want Philip to chatter away like a society man. He will talk fast enough when you quit your foolishness and give him a chance."

"I only wanted to say that he is undemonstrative," explained the girl, flaming red. "I should think that if he--oh, but I am glad he does not speak!" she interrupted herself, vehemently, remembering her brother's peril. "He must not speak!"

"Don't allow any false pride to come between you," urged the doctor. "Nothing kills a man's love so quickly as indifference, real or feigned."

"Do you think so?" She was glad to be impersonal again. "I imagined a little indifference piqued a man to further effort."

"The heat of propinquity feeds the flame of love," oracularly.

"I do not agree with you there, Doctor. I think men grow tired of women's solicitude and company."

"Of their wives?"

Winifred nodded.

"Precious few have the experience! But I agree with you that most married people see too much of each other. Men seem to realize the fact. That is why they go on hunting and fishing trips. Do they hunt? A few of the party, but the rest sit around and enjoy themselves, because they are a party of _men_. Women will never understand this feeling--this insulation, so to speak; it is the cause of much of the unhappiness we see. Most men fall short of the standard a woman demands from her husband. The first rapturous love, with its utterance and reciprocity, is expected to last after years of intimacy. In love, as in a dinner, comes the gradual relaxation, the ease of well-being, which is the greatest compliment (if she but knew it) to a woman's power to evoke and to hold love. She has not lost it; to reiterate what is a self-evident fact seems to the man unnecessary. A happy married life is one of content, comradeship, loyalty. Words are not needed where such conditions exist."

"I'll remember all you have said," sighed the girl, "but I shall never have an opportunity to prove it!"

"Nonsense, girl!" The comforter rose as he heard Charlie's voice in the outer hall. "You are depressed to-night. Life will look brighter to-morrow. These tangled trails are going to be straightened--I'm sure of it! Love will crystallize that Chinese legend into reality--for you and for Phil. Good-night! Good-night!"