by Max Brand
“It seems as though everything has worked out too much according to schedule,” he said. “There’ll be a break. Something will happen and smash everything!”
“Nothing will happen,” she assured him calmly.
He took her hand in his hot fingers.
“Partner” — he began, and then stopped as though he feared to let himself go on.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“On his mountain, waiting for the sun, I guess. He told the servants a while ago that he was leaving to-day. Great excitement. They’re all chattering about it down in the servants’ house.”
“Is no one here?”
“Not a soul, I guess.”
“Then — we’re going into that Room of Silence!”
“Take that chance now? Never in the world! Why, Ruth, if he saw us in there, or guessed we’d been there, he’d probably murder us both. You know how gentle he is when he gets well started?”
“But how will he know? No one is here, and David won’t be back from the mountain for a long time if he waits for the sun.”
“Just stop thinking about it, Ruth.”
“I’ll never stop as long as I live, unless I see it. I’ve dreamed steadily about that room all night.”
“Go alone, then, and I’ll stay here.”
She went resolutely across the patio, and Connor, following with an exclamation, caught her arm roughly at the door.
“You aren’t serious?”
“Deadly serious!”
The glitter of her dark eyes convinced him more than words.
“Then we’ll go together. But make it short!”
They swept the patio with conscience-stricken glances, and then opened the door. As they did so, the ugly face of Joseph appeared at the entrance to the patio, looked and hastily was withdrawn.
“This is like a woman,” muttered Connor, as they closed the door with guilty softness behind them. “Risk her life for a secret that isn’t worth a tinker’s damn!”
For the room was almost empty, and what was in it was the simplest of the simple. There was a roughly made table in the center. Five chairs stood about it. On the table was a book, and the seven articles made up the entire furnishings. Connor was surprised to see tears in the eyes of Ruth.
“Don’t you see?” she murmured in reply to his exclamation. “The four chairs for the four dead men when David sits down in his own place?”
“Well, what of that?”
“What’s in the book?”
“Are you going to wait to see that?”
“Open the door a little, Ben, and then we can hear if any one comes near.”
He obeyed and came back, grumbling. “We can hear every one except David. That step of his wouldn’t break eggs.”
He found the girl already poring over the first page of the old book, on which there was writing in a delicate hand.
She read aloud: “The story of the Garden of Eden, who made it and why it was made. Told without error by Matthew.”
“Hot stuff!” chuckled Connor. “We got a little time before the sun comes up. But it’s getting red in the east. Let’s hear some more.”
There was nothing imposing about the book. It was a ledger with a half-leather binding such as storekeepers use for accounts. Time had yellowed the edges of the paper and the ink was dulled. She read:
“In the beginning there was a man whose name was John.”
“Sounds like the start of the Bible,” grinned Connor. “Shoot ahead and let’s get at the real dope.”
“Hush!”
Without raising her eyes, she brushed aside the hand of Connor which had fallen on the side of the ledger. Her own took its place, ready to turn the page.
“In the beginning there was a man whose name was John. The Lord looked upon John and saw his sins. He struck John therefor. First He took two daughters from John, but still the man was blind and did not read the writing of his Maker. And God struck down the eldest son of John, and John sorrowed, but did not understand. Thereat, all in a day, the Lord took from John his wife and his lands and his goods, which were many and rich.
“Then John looked about him, and lo! he was alone.
“In the streets his friends forgot him and saw not his passing. The sound of his own footfall was lonely in his house, and he was left alone with his sins.
“So he knew that it was the hand of God which struck him, and he heard a voice which said in the night to him: ‘O John, ye who have been too much with the world must leave it and go into the wilderness.’
“Then the heart of John smote him and he prayed God to send him not out alone, and God relented and told him to go forth and take with him three simple men.
“So John on the next morning called to his Negro, a slave who was all that remained in his hands.
“‘Abraham,’ he said, ‘you who were a slave are free.’
“Then he went into the road and walked all the day until his feet bled. He rested by the side of the road and one came who kneeled before him and washed his feet, and John saw that it was Abraham. And Abraham said: ‘I was born into your service and I can only die out of it.’
“They went on together until they came to three robbers fighting with one strong man, and John helped this man and drove away the robbers.
“Then the tall man began to laugh. ‘They would have robbed me because I was once rich,’ he said, ‘but another thief had already plundered me, and they have gotten only broken heads for their industry.’ Then John was sorry for the fortune that was stolen.
“‘Not I,’ said the tall man, ‘but I am sorry for the brother I lost with the money.’ Then he told them how his own brother had cheated him. ‘But,’ he said, ‘there is only one way to beat the devil, and that is to laugh at him.’
“Now John saw this was a good man, so he opened his heart to Luke, which was the name of him who had been robbed. Then Luke fell in with the two and went on with them.
“They came to a city filled with plague so that the dead were buried by the dying and the dog howled over his master in the street; the son fled from the father and the mother left her child. They found one man who tended the sick out of charity and the labor was too great for even his broad shoulders. He had a broad, ugly face, but in his eye was a clear fire.
“‘Brother, what is your name?’ said John, and the man answered that he was called Paul, and begged them for the sweet mercy of Christ to aid him in his labors.
“But John said: ‘Rise, Paul, and follow me.’
“And Paul said: ‘How can I follow the living when the dying call to me?’
“But John said: ‘Nevertheless, leave them, for these are carrion, but your soul in which is life eternal is worth all these and far more.’
“Then Paul felt the power of John and followed him and took, also, his gray horses which were unlike others, and of his servants those who would follow him for love, and in wagons he put much wealth.
“So they all rode on as a mighty caravan until they came, at the side of the road, to a youth lying in the meadow with his hands behind his head whistling, and a bird hovering above him repeated the same note. They spoke to him and he told them that he was an outcast because he would not labor.
“‘The world is too pleasant to work in,’ he said, and whistled again, and the bird above him made answer.
“Then John said: ‘Here is a soul worth all of ours. Rise, brother, and come with us.’
“So Matthew rose and followed him, and he was the third and last man to join John, who was the beginning.
“Then they came to a valley set about with walls and with a pleasant river running through it, and here they entered and called it the Garden of Eden because in it men should be pure of heart once more. And they built their houses with labor and lived in quiet and the horses multiplied and the Garden blossomed under their hands.”
Here Ruth marked her place with her finger while she wiped her eyes.
“Do you mean to say this babble is gettin
g you?” growled Ben Connor.
“Please!” she whispered. “Don’t you see that it’s beautiful?”
And she returned to the book.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“THEN JOHN SICKENED and said: ‘Bring me into the room of silence.’ So they brought him to the place where they sat each day to converse with God in the holy stillness and hear His voice.
“Then John said: ‘I am about to depart from among you, and before my going I put this command on you that you find in the world a male infant too young to know its father or mother, or without father and mother living. Rear that child to manhood in the valley, for even as I depart so will you all do, and the Garden of Eden will be left tenantless.’
“So when John was dead Matthew went forth and found a male child and brought him to the valley and the two said: ‘Where was the child found and what is its name?’ And Matthew said: ‘It was found in the place to which God led me and its name hereafter shall be David.’
“So peace was on the valley, and David grew tall and strong. Then Luke died, and Paul died in a drift of snow and Matthew grew very old and wrote these words for the eye of David.”
The smooth running, finely made letters come to an end, the narrative was taken up in fresher ink and in a bold, heavy hand of large characters.
“One day Matthew called for David and said: ‘My hands are cold, whereby I know I am about to die. As I lay last night with death for a bedfellow thoughts came to me, which are these: We have been brother and father and son to one another. But do not grieve that I am gone. I inherit a place of peace, but you shall come to torment unless you find a woman in the world and bring her here to bear children to you and be your wife.’
“Then David groaned in his heart and he said: ‘How shall I know her when I find her?’
“And Matthew said: ‘By her simplicity.’
“And David said: ‘There may be many who are simple.’
“And Matthew said: ‘I have never known such a woman. But when you see her your heart will rise up and claim her. Therefore, within five years, before you are grown too old, go out and find this woman and wed her.’
“And on that day Matthew died, and a great anguish came to David. The days passed heavily. And for five years he has waited.”
There was another interval of blank paper, and then the pen had been taken up anew, hurriedly, and driven with such force and haste that it tore the paper-surface.
“The woman is here!”
Her fingers stiffened about the edges of the book. Raising her head, she looked out through the little window and saw the tree tops down the hillside brightening against the red of the dawn. But Connor could not see her face. He only noted the place at which she had stopped, and now he began to laugh.
“Can you beat that? That poor dub!”
She turned to him, slowly, a face so full of mute anguish that the gambler stopped his laughter to gape at her. Was she taking this seriously? Was this the Bluebeard’s chamber which was to ruin all his work?
Not that he perceived what was going on in her mind, but her expression made him aware, all at once, of the morning-quiet. Far down the valley a horse neighed and a bird swooping past the window cast in on them one thrilling phrase of music. And Connor saw the girl change under his very eye. She was looking straight at him without seeing his face and into whatever distance her glance went he felt that he could not follow her. Here at the very threshold of success the old ledger was proving a more dangerous enemy than David himself. Connor fumbled for words, the Open Sesame which would let in the common sense of the everyday world upon the girl. But the very fear of that crisis kept him dumb. He glanced from the pale hand on the ledger to her face, and it seemed to him that beauty had fallen upon her out of the book.
“The woman is here! God has sent her!”
At that she cried out faintly, her voice trembling with self-scorn: “God has sent me — me!”
“The heart of David stood up and beat in his throat when he saw her,” went on the rough, strong writing. “She passed the gate. Every step she took was into the soul of David. As I went beside her the trees grew taller and the sky was more blue.
“She has passed the gate. She is here. She is mine!
“What am I that she should be mine? God has sent her to show me that my strength is clumsy. I have no words to fit her. When I look into her eyes I see her soul; my vision leaps from star to star, a great distance, and I am filled with humility. O Father in Heaven, having led her to my hand, teach me to give her happiness, to pour her spirit full of content.”
She closed the book reverently and pressed her hands against her face. He heard her murmuring: “What have I done? God forgive me!”
Connor grew angry. It was no time for trifling.
He touched her arm: “Come on out of this, Ruth. If you’re going to get religion, try it later.”
At that she flung away and faced him, and what he saw was a revelation of angry scorn.
“Don’t touch me,” she stammered at him. “You cheat! Is that the barbarian you were telling me about? Is that the cruel, selfish fool you tried to make me think was David of Eden?”
His own weapons were turning against him, but he retained his self-control.
“I won’t listen to you, Ruth. It’s this hush-stuff that’s got you. It’s this infernal room. It makes you feel that the fathead has actually got the dope from God.”
“How do you know that God hasn’t come to him here? At least, he’s had the courage and the faith to believe it. What faith have we? I know your heaven, Ben Connor. It’s paved with dollar bills. And mine, too. We’ve come sneaking in here like cowardly thieves. Oh, I hate myself, I loathe myself. I’ve stolen his heart, and what have I to give him in exchange? I’m not even worthy to love him! Barbarian? He’s so far greater and finer than we are that we aren’t worthy to look in his face!”
“By the Lord!” groaned Connor. “Are you double-crossing me?”
“Could I do anything better? Who tempted me like a devil and brought me here? Who taught me to play the miserable game with David? You, you, you!”
Perspiration was streaming down the white face of Connor.
“Try to give me a chance and listen one minute, Ruth. But for God’s sake don’t fly off the handle and smash everything when we’re next door to winning. Maybe I’ve done wrong. I don’t see how. I’ve tried to give this David a chance to be happy the way any other man would want to be happy. Now you turn on me because he’s written some high-flying chatter in a book!”
“Because I thought he was a selfish sham, and now I see that he’s real. He’s humbled himself to me — to me! I’m not worthy to touch his feet! And you—”
“Maybe I’m rotten. I don’t say I’m all I should be, but half of what I’ve done has been for you. The minute I saw you at the key in Lukin I knew I wanted you. I’ve gone on wanting you ever since. It’s the first time in my life — but I love you, Ruth. Give me one more chance. Put this thing through and I’ll turn over the rest of my life to fixing you up so’s you’ll be happy.”
She watched him for a moment incredulously; then she broke into hysterical laughter.
“If you loved me could you have made me do what I’ve done? Love? You? But I know what real love is. It’s written into that book. I’ve heard him talk. I’m full of his voice, of his face.
“It’s the only fine thing about me. For the rest, we’re shams, both of us — cheats — crooked — small, sneaking cheats!”
She stopped with a cry of alarm; the door behind her stood open and in the entrance was David of Eden. In the background was the ugly, grinning face of Joseph. This was his revenge.
Connor made one desperate effort to smile, but the effort failed wretchedly. Neither of them could look at David; they could only steal glances at one another and see their guilt.
“David, my brother—” began the gambler heavily.
But the voice of the master broke in: “Oh, Abraham, Abraham, w
ould to God that I had listened!”
He stood to one side, and made a sweeping gesture.
“Come out, and bring the woman.”
They shrank past him and stood blinking in the light of the newly risen sun. Joseph was hugging himself with the cold and his mute delight. The master closed the door and faced them again.
“Even in the Room of Silence!” he said slowly. “Was it not enough to bring sin into the Garden? But you have carried it even into the holy place!”
Connor found his tongue. The fallen head of Ruth told him that there was no help to be looked for from her, and the crisis forced him into a certain boisterous glibness of speech.
“Sin, Brother David? What sin? To be sure, Ruth was too curious. She went into the Room of Silence, but as soon as I knew she was there I went to fetch her, when—”
He had even cast out one arm in a gesture of easy persuasion, and now it was caught at the wrist in a grip that burned through the flesh to the bones. Another hand clutched his coat at the throat. He was lifted and flung back against the wall by a strength like that of a madman, or a wild animal. One convulsive effort showed him his helplessness, and he cried out more in horror than fear. Another cry answered him, and Ruth strove to press in between, tearing futilely at the arms of David.
A moment later Connor was miraculously freed. He found David a long pace away and Ruth before him, her arms flung out to give him shelter while she faced the master of the garden.
“He is saved,” said David, “and you are free. Your love has ransomed him. What price has he paid to win you so that you will even risk death for him?”
“Oh, David,” sobbed the girl, “don’t you see I only came between you to keep you from murder? Because he isn’t worth it!”
But the master of the Garden was laughing in a way that made Connor look about for a weapon and shrink because he found none; only the greedy eyes of Joseph, close by. David had come again close to the girl; he even took both her hands in one of his and slipped his arm about her. To Connor his self-control now seemed more terrible than that one outbreak of murdering passion.