The Sherrods Part 16

"Don't forget to let me know what she says when you tell her you have really seen me. I am so interested in her. What is her name?"

Without a moment's hesitation he took the plunge.

"Justine Van."

"What an odd name. Yet she was an odd looking girl. Her beauty was so different, so fresh, so pure. I hope the gay life of the city is not turning you away from that jewel down there. O, I know what the city does for young men who come from the country. It usually spoils them.

They forget the best, the truest part of their lives, and they let new faces drive out the old and loving ones."

"I--I don't think you quite understand the situation," floundered Jud, moved to contrition. Had she not interrupted at that instant, he would have told the truth.

"It is easier to understand than you think," she said. "You are up here, she is there. You are a new man with new ideas, new possibilities, new hopes; she is the same sweet, innocent country girl, no farther advanced than she was the day you left her. You have gone forward, she stands still. You are Dudley Sherrod, the most promising of young artists, with popularity ready to leap at you; she is the common la.s.s of the fields, honest and true, unknown except to the people who live nearby. You are up here, thrown with bright men, and perhaps with clever women, while she is back there with the farmers and the farmers' wives. You have every opportunity to be somebody; she will always be n.o.body unless she is lifted from that mire of inactivity. Don't you see how well I understand the situation? You have every advantage, she has none. Yes, Mr. Sherrod, you are living out the promise I made for you months ago, and you are winning only what is yours by right. But you must not forget that there are few such jewels here as the one you left behind when you sought treasures in the world."

"That's the neatest lecture I ever heard, Celeste," cried Converse, admiringly. "You musn't forget to go back and polish up the jewel, Sherrod. That's what she means, in few words."

Jud feared that both were laughing at him and resented it.

"I am sure Miss Wood has said nothing that is untrue concerning Justine Van. She is the n.o.blest girl I ever knew," he said, deliberately.

"She is far above me in every way. She has more reason to stoop to me than I to her. She is my best friend."

"Friend?" echoed Miss Wood.

"My truest comrade," said he. The perspiration started on his forehead.

CHAPTER XV.

ONE HEART FOR TWO.

The pa.s.sing of two months saw Sherrod a constant, even a privileged, visitor at the Wood home. In that time he visited the cottage in Indiana but once, and on that occasion glowingly related to Justine the story of his first visit to the G.o.ddess and of her subsequent interest in his affairs.

Just now he was beginning to realize the consequences of his deception.

Affairs had reached the stage where it seemed next to impossible to acknowledge his marriage to Justine, and he certainly could not tell that honest, trusting wife of his unfortunate duplicity. He loved her too deeply to inflict the wound that such a confession would make, and yet he could see that delay would only increase the violence of the shock should she learn of his mistake, innocently conceived, but unwisely fostered.

Justine also had a secret. When he was ready to take her to the city, she would confess to him that 'Gene Crawley was to farm the place for her that spring and summer, working it on shares. He was to use his own team, for her horses had died of influenza. So little did Jud know of the old home place now that he did not recognize Crawley's horses in the stable, nor could he see that a man's hand had performed wonders in the field. He was thinking of Chicago and the miserable broil in which his affairs were involved. Justine induced Crawley to remain away from the farm during Jud's stay, an undertaking which required some force of persuasion. Crawley wanted to make peace with Jud and to a.s.sure him of his good faith; he begged her to let him apologize to his old adversary and ask him to shake hands and say quits. But she knew that Jud would not understand and that there could be no forgiveness. Never in her life had she loved Jud as in these days when she was disobeying and deceiving him. While she knew that 'Gene was no longer the brute and the blackguard of old, she saw that her husband could look upon him only as he had known him.

The farm was bound to do well this year and she was happy to give Jud that a.s.surance. Once he caught her looking wistfully at him when he was telling of expected triumphs in the city. He knew that she was hoping he would say that she could soon go with him to the city, leaving the farm to care for itself. But how could he take her there now? He groaned with the shame of it.

A week of sleepless nights followed this visit to Clay township. The young artist's work on the paper suffered and his fellows advised him to take a rest. He had had no vacation since taking the position many months before. But it was not overwork that told on him; it was the lying awake of nights striving to find a way out of his predicament without losing the respect of all these friends, especially that of one whom he admired so deeply. He had permitted her to believe him free and had behaved as a free man behaves to such an extent that explanations were impossible. To tell her the truth concerning the man she had gone to the theatre with, had lunched with in downtown restaurants, had entertained in her own home almost to the exclusion of others, could bring but one end--the scorn and detestation he deserved.

Poor Converse had given up the conflict in despair, but, good fellow that he was, held no grudge against Sherrod, for whom he had genuine admiration. They were lunching together a week or two after his trying trip to Clay township, and Jud was so moody that Converse took note of it. As they sat at the table, Converse mentally observed that his friend was growing handsomer every day; the moods improved him. After a long silence, the artist said:

"I had an offer to-day to do some book ill.u.s.trating for a publishing house."

"Good! That's the stuff! Book pictures will be your line, old man.

Will you accept?"

"I'm afraid I'd be a failure," said Jud, gloomily.

"Is that what's the matter with you?"

"What do you mean?" demanded the other, quickly.

"O, your grumpiness. You've been all out of sorts for a couple of weeks, you know--or maybe you don't. But you have, anyway. I never saw a fellow change as you have in--in, well, ten days."

"I don't understand why you think so. Everything is all right with me," said Jud, shortly.

"Maybe you're off your feed a bit."

"Never was better in my life."

"Well, it's darned queer. You act like a man whose liver is turning mongrel. Why, you ought to be satisfied. You've made a big hit here and you'll soon be getting the biggest salary of any newspaper artist in town. You have been elected to the Athletic Club, you have been invited to lecture before some of the clubs, you've got plenty of coin to throw at birds, so why don't you rub those wrinkles from between your eyes?"

Jud laughed rather mirthlessly, without taking his eyes from the coffee which he was stirring.

"Wrinkles don't come because you want them, but because you don't."

"Well, old chap, I'm sure something is worrying you. Can I help you in any way?" went on his generous friend.

"Thanks, Doug; you can help me to another lump of sugar."

"The devil take you," cried Converse, handing him the bowl. "Say," he said, a moment later, watching Jud as he calmly b.u.t.tered his bread, "I believe there's a woman in it."

"A woman!" exclaimed the other, almost dropping his knife. For an instant his gray eyes seemed to look through the other's brain. "What are you driving at, Doug?" he went on, controlling himself.

"I'm next to you at last, old man. You're in a deuce of a boat.

You're in love."

"And if I were, I can't see why I should have to hire a boat."

"It's all right to talk that way, but you are in the boat, just the same. Maybe it's a raft, though, and maybe you're shipwrecked. You are one of these unlucky dogs who find out that they love the second girl after having promised to marry the first one. The size of it is, you've about forgotten the little Indiana girl you were telling me about." For a whole minute Jud stared at him, white to the lips.

"You have no right to talk like that, Converse," he said, hoa.r.s.ely.

"I beg pardon, Jud; I didn't mean to offend. Honestly now, I was talking to hear myself talk," cried the other.

"I have not promised to marry any one in Indiana," said Jud, slowly, cruelly, deliberately.

"Then, you are free as air?" asked Converse, a chill in his heart.

"Or as foul," said Sherrod.

"Sherrod, is this girl down in the country in love with you?"

"You mean the one I spoke of?" asked Jud, his head swimming.

"Yes, the one you spoke of."