A Girl Of The Limberlost

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"I don't want you to. Just tell him in the morning."

"Very well."

"You will be sure?"

"Sure!"

Hart was not gone. Edith fell asleep. She arose at noon the next day,
took a cold bath, ate her breakfast, dressed carefully, and leaving word
that she had gone to the forest, she walked slowly across the leaves. It
was cool and quiet there, so she sat where she could see him coming, and
waited. She was thinking deep and fast.

Henderson came swiftly down the path. A long sleep, food, and Edith's
message had done him good. He had dressed in new light flannels that
were becoming. Edith arose and went to meet him.

"Let us walk in the forest," she said.

They passed the old Catholic graveyard, and entered the deepest wood of
the Island, where all shadows were green, all voices of humanity ceased,
and there was no sound save the whispering of the trees, a few bird
notes and squirrel rustle. There Edith seated herself on a mossy old
log, and Henderson studied her. He could detect a change. She was still
pale and her eyes tired, but the dull, strained look was gone. He wanted
to hope, but he did not dare. Any other man would have forced her to
speak. The mighty tenderness in Henderson's heart shielded her in every
way.

"What have you thought of that you wanted yet, Edith?" he asked lightly
as he stretched himself at her feet.

"You!"

Henderson lay tense and very still.

"Well, I am here!"

"Thank Heaven for that!"

Henderson sat up suddenly, leaning toward her with questioning eyes. Not
knowing what he dared say, afraid of the hope which found birth in his
heart, he tried to shield her and at the same time to feel his way.

"I am more thankful than I can express that you feel so," he said. "I
would be of use, of comfort, to you if I knew how, Edith."

"You are my only comfort," she said. "I tried to send you away. I
thought I didn't want you. I thought I couldn't bear the sight of you,
because of what you have seen me suffer. But I went to the root of this
thing last night, Hart, and with self in mind, as usual, I found that I
could not live without you."

Henderson began breathing lightly. He was afraid to speak or move.

"I faced the fact that all this is my own fault," continued Edith, "and
came through my own selfishness. Then I went farther back and realized
that I am as I was reared. I don't want to blame my parents, but I was
carefully trained into what I am. If Elnora Comstock had been like me,
Phil would have come back to me. I can see how selfish I seem to him,
and how I appear to you, if you would admit it."

"Edith," said Henderson desperately, "there is no use to try to deceive
you. You have known from the first that I found you wrong in this.
But it's the first time in your life I ever thought you wrong about
anything--and it's the only time I ever shall. Understand, I think you
the bravest, most beautiful woman on earth, the one most worth loving."

"I'm not to be considered in the same class with her."

"I don't grant that, but if I did, you, must remember how I compare
with Phil. He's my superior at every point. There's no use in discussing
that. You wanted to see me, Edith. What did you want?"

"I wanted you to not go away."

"Not at all?"

"Not at all! Not ever! Not unless you take me with you, Hart."

She slightly extended one hand to him. Henderson took that hand, kissing
it again and again.

"Anything you want, Edith," he said brokenly. "Just as you wish it. Do
you want me to stay here, and go on as we have been?"

"Yes, only with a difference."

"Can you tell me, Edith?"

"First, I want you to know that you are the dearest thing on earth to
me, right now. I would give up everything else, before I would you. I
can't honestly say that I love you with the love you deserve. My heart
is too sore. It's too soon to know. But I love you some way. You are
necessary to me. You are my comfort, my shield. If you want me, as you
know me to be, Hart, you may consider me yours. I give you my word of
honour I will try to be as you would have me, just as soon as I can."

Henderson kissed her hand passionately. "Don't, Edith," he begged.
"Don't say those things. I can't bear it. I understand. Everything will
come right in time. Love like mine must bring a reward. You will love me
some day. I can wait. I am the most patient fellow."

"But I must say it," cried Edith. "I--I think, Hart, that I have been on
the wrong road to find happiness. I planned to finish life as I started
it with Phil; and you see how glad he was to change. He wanted the other
sort of girl far more than he ever wanted me. And you, Hart, honest,
now--I'll know if you don't tell me the truth! Would you rather have a
wife as I planned to live life with Phil, or would you rather have her
as Elnora Comstock intends to live with him?"

"Edith!" cried the man, "Edith!"

"Of course, you can't say it in plain English," said the girl. "You are
far too chivalrous for that. You needn't say anything. I am answered. If
you could have your choice you wouldn't have a society wife, either. In
your heart you'd like the smaller home of comfort, the furtherance
of your ambitions, the palatable meals regularly served, and little
children around you. I am sick of all we have grown up to, Hart. When
your hour of trouble comes, there is no comfort for you. I am tired to
death. You find out what you want to do, and be, that is a man's work in
the world, and I will plan our home, with no thought save your comfort.
I'll be the other kind of a girl, as fast as I can learn. I can't
correct all my faults in one day, but I'll change as rapidly as I can."

"God knows, I will be different, too, Edith. You shall not be the only
generous one. I will make all the rest of life worthy of you. I will
change, too!"

"Don't you dare!" said Edith Carr, taking his head between her hands
and holding it against her knees, while the tears slid down her cheeks.
"Don't you dare change, you big-hearted, splendid lover! I am little and
selfish. You are the very finest, just as you are!"

Henderson was not talking then, so they sat through a long silence. At
last he heard Edith draw a quick breath, and lifting his head he looked
where she pointed. Up a fern stalk climbed a curious looking object.
They watched breathlessly. By lavender feet clung a big, pursy,
lavender-splotched, yellow body. Yellow and lavender wings began to
expand and take on colour. Every instant great beauty became more
apparent. It was one of those double-brooded freaks, which do occur on
rare occasions, or merely an Eacles Imperialis moth that in the cool
damp northern forest had failed to emerge in June. Edith Carr drew back
with a long, shivering breath. Henderson caught her hands and gripped
them firmly. Steadily she looked the thought of her heart into his eyes.

"By all the powers, you shall not!" swore the man. "You have done
enough. I will smash that thing!"

"Oh no you won't!" cried the girl, clinging to his hands. "I am not big
enough yet, Hart, but before I leave this forest I shall have grown to
breadth and strength to carry that to her. She needs two of each kind.
Phil only sent her one!"

"Edith I can't bear it! That's not demanded! Let me take it!"

"You may go with me. I know where the O'More cottage is. I have been
there often."

"I'll say you sent it!"

"You may watch me deliver it!"

"Phil may be there by now."

"I hope he is! I should like him to see me do one decent thing by which
to remember me."

"I tell you that is not necessary!"

"'Not necessary!'" cried the girl, her big eyes shining. "Not necessary?
Then what on earth is the thing doing here? I just have boasted that
I would change, that I would be like her, that I would grow bigger and
broader. As the words are spoken God gives me the opportunity to prove
whether I am sincere. This is my test, Hart! Don't you see it? If I am
big enough to carry that to her, you will believe that there is some
good in me. You will not be loving me in vain. This is an especial
Providence, man! Be my strength! Help me, as you always have done!"

Henderson arose and shook the leaves from his clothing. He drew Edith
Carr to her feet and carefully picked the mosses from her skirts. He
went to the water and moistened his handkerchief to bathe her face.

"Now a dust of powder," he said when the tears were washed away.

From a tiny book Edith tore leaves that she passed over her face.

"All gone!" cried Henderson, critically studying her. "You look almost
half as lovely as you really are!"

Edith Carr drew a wavering breath. She stretched one hand to him.

"Hold tight, Hart!" she said. "I know they handle these things, but I
would quite as soon touch a snake."

Henderson clenched his teeth and held steadily. The moth had emerged
too recently to be troublesome. It climbed on her fingers quietly and
obligingly clung there without moving. So hand in hand they went down
the dark forest path. When they came to the avenue, the first person
they met paused with an ejaculation of wonder. The next stopped also,
and every one following. They could make little progress on account of
marvelling, interested people. A strange excitement took possession of
Edith. She began to feel proud of the moth.

"Do you know," she said to Henderson, "this is growing easier every
step. Its clinging is not disagreeable as I thought it would be. I feel
as if I were saving it, protecting it. I am proud that we are taking it
to be put into a collection or a book. It seems like doing a thing worth
while. Oh, Hart, I wish we could work together at something for which
people would care as they seem to for this. Hear what they say! See them
lift their little children to look at it!"

"Edith, if you don't stop," said Henderson, "I will take you in my arms
here on the avenue. You are adorable!"

"Don't you dare!" laughed Edith Carr. The colour rushed to her cheeks
and a new light leaped in her eyes.

"Oh, Hart!" she cried. "Let's work! Let's do something! That's the way
she makes people love her so. There's the place, and thank goodness,
there is a crowd."

"You darling!" whispered Henderson as they passed up the walk. Her face
was rose-flushed with excitement and her eyes shone.

"Hello, everyone!" she cried as she came on the wide veranda. "Only
see what we found up in the forest! We thought you might like to have it
for some of your collections."

She held out the moth as she walked straight to Elnora, who arose to
meet her, crying: "How perfectly splendid! I don't even know how to
begin to thank you."

Elnora took the moth. Edith shook hands with all of them and asked
Philip if he were improving. She said a few polite words to Freckles
and the Angel, declined to remain on account of an engagement, and went
away, gracefully.

"Well bully for her!" said Mrs. Comstock. "She's a little thoroughbred
after all!"

"That was a mighty big thing for her to be doing," said Freckles in a
hushed voice.

"If you knew her as well as I do," said Philip Ammon, "you would have a
better conception of what that cost."

"It was a terror!" cried the Angel. "I never could have done it."

"'Never could have done it!'" echoed Freckles. "Why, Angel, dear, that
is the one thing of all the world you would have done!"

"I have to take care of this," faltered Elnora, hurrying toward the door
to hide the tears which were rolling down her cheeks.

"I must help," said Philip, disappearing also. "Elnora," he called,
catching up with her, "take me where I may cry, too. Wasn't she great?"

"Superb!" exclaimed Elnora. "I have no words. I feel so humbled!"

"So do I," said Philip. "I think a brave deed like that always makes one
feel so. Now are you happy?"

"Unspeakably happy!" answered Elnora.