Review of Revietca, 1/11/06. 



In the Days of the Gdmet. 



519 



hot purpose that had grown so stronglv out of my 

 springtime freshness, and my mood darkened to 

 night. 



I crossed the beech wood and came toward the 

 gardens with a resolute and sorrowful heart. When 

 I reached the green door in the garden wall, I was 

 seized, for a space, with so violent a trembling, that 

 I could not grip the latch to lift it, for I no longer 

 had any doubt how this would end. 



Through the open door of one of the glass- 

 houses, I saw old Stuart. He was leaning against 

 the staging, his hands in his pockets, and so deep 

 in thought he gave no heed to me. 



I hesitated, and went on toward the cottage, 

 slowly. 



Something struck me as unusual about the place, 

 hut I could not tell at first what it was. One of 

 the bedroom windows was open, and the customary 

 short blind, with its brass upper rail partlv unfas- 

 tened, drooped oliliquely across the vacant space. It 

 looked negligent and odd, for usually everything 

 about the cottage was conspicuously trim. 



The door was standing wide open, and every- 

 thing was still. But giving that usually orderly hall 

 an odd look — it was about half-past two in the 

 afternoon — was a pile of three dirty plates, with 

 used knives and forks upon them, on one of the hall 

 stairs. 



I went into the hall, looked into either room, and 

 hesitated. 



Then I fell to upon the door-knocker, and gave 

 a loud rat-tar-too, and followed this up with an 

 amiable, '' Hello !" 



For a time no one answered me, and I stood 

 listening and expectant, with my fingers about mv 

 weapon. Someone moved about upstairs presently, 

 and was still again. The tension of waiting seemed 

 to brace mv nerves. 



I had my hand on the knocker for the second 

 tinii-. when Puss, Nettie's sister, appeared in the 

 doorwav. 



For a moment we remained staring at each other 

 without speaking. Her hair was dishevelled, her 

 face dirty, tear-stained, and irregularlv red. Her 

 e.xpression at the sight of me was pure astonishment. 

 I thought she was about to say something, and then 

 she had darted away out of the house again. 



" T say. Puss !" I said. " Puss 1" 



I followed her out of the door. '•' Puss ! What's 

 the matter? Where's Nettie?" 



She vanished round the corner of the house. 



I hesitated, perplexed whether I should pursue 

 her. What did it all mean ? Then I heard someone 

 upstairs. 



"Willie!" cried the voice of Mrs. Stuart. "Is 

 that you ?" 



"Yes," I answered. "Where's e\ervone? 

 Where's Nettie ? I want to have a talk with her." 



She did not answer, but T heard her dress rustle 



as she moved. I judged she was upon the landing 

 overhead. 



I paused at the foot of the stairs, expecting her to 

 appear and come down. 



Suddenly came a strange sound, a rush of sounds, 

 words jumbled and hurrying, confused and shape- 

 less, borne along upon a note of throatv distress 

 that at last submerged the words altogether and 

 ended in a wail. Except that it came from a 

 woman's throat it was exactly the babbling sound 

 of a weeping child with a grievance. " I can't," 

 she said, " I can't," and that was all I could dis- 

 tinguish. It was to my young ears the strangest 

 sound conceivable from a kindly, motherlv little 

 woman, whom I had always thought of chieflv as 

 an unparalleled maker of cakes. It frightened me. 

 I went upstairs at once in a state of infinite alarm, 

 and there she was in her room, leaning on the top 

 of a bureau. I never saw such weeping. 



.\s I came into the bedroom her voice rose again. 

 " Oh, that I should have to tell you, Willie ! Oh, 

 that I should have to tell you !" She dropped her 

 head again, and a fresh gust of tears swept all fur- 

 ther words away. 



I said nothing, I was too astonished ; but I drew 

 nearer to her, and waited. 



" That I should have lived to see this dav !" she 

 wailed. " I had rather a thousand times she was 

 struck dead at my feet." 

 I began to understand. 



" Mrs. Stuart," I said, clearing my throat ; " what 

 has become of Nettie?" 



" That I should have lived to see this day !" she 

 said by way of reply. 



I waited till her passion abated. 

 There came a lull. I forgot the weapon in my 

 pocket. I said nothing, and suddenly she stood 

 erect before me, wiping her swollen eyes. " Willie," 

 she gulped, " she's gone !" 

 ■' Nettie ?■' 



'■ Gone ! Run awav ! Run awav from her home. 

 Oh, Willie, Willie! the shame of' it ! The sin and 

 shame of it '." 



She flung herself upon my shoulder, and clung 

 to me, anil began again to wish her daughter lying 

 at our feet. 



" There, there," said I, and all my being was a- 

 tremble. "'Where has she gone?" I said as softlv 

 as I could. 



But for the time she was preoccupied with her 

 own sorrow, and I had to hold her there, and com- 

 fort her with the blackness of finality spreading over 

 my soul. 



"Where has she gone?" I asked for the fourth 

 time. 



■' I don't know — we don't know. .\nd oh, Willie, 

 she went out yesterday morning! I said to her, 

 ' Nettie,' I said to her. ' you're mighty fine for a 

 morning call.' 'Fine do's for a fine day,' she said. 



