Beyond The Great Oblivion | Page 4

full of strange thoughts they went on into what had been the kitchen. The stove,
though heavily bedded in rust, retained its form, for the solid steel had resisted even the
fearful lapse of vanished time.
"After I scour that with sand and water," said Stern, "and polish up these aluminum
utensils and reset that broken pane with a piece of glass from up-stairs where it isn't
needed, you won't know this place. Yes, and I'll have running water in here, too--and
electricity from the power-plant, and--"
"Oh, Allan," interrupted the girl, delightedly, "this must have been the dining room." She
beckoned from a doorway. "No end of dishes left for us! Isn't it jolly? This is luxury
compared to the way we had to start in the tower!"
In the dining-room a good number of the more solid cut-glass and china pieces had
resisted the shock of having fallen, centuries ago, to the floor, when the shelves and
cupboards of teak and mahogany had rotted and gone to pieces. Corroded silverware lay
scattered all about; and there was gold plate, too, intact save for the patina of extreme
age--platters, dishes, beakers. But of the table and the chairs, nothing remained save dust.
Like curious children they poked and pried.
"Dishes enough!" exclaimed she. "Gold, till you can't rest. But how about something to
put on the dishes? We haven't had a bite since yesterday noon, and I'm about starved.
Now that the fighting's all over, I begin to remember my healthy appetite!"
Stern smiled.
"You'll have some breakfast, girlie," promised he. "There'll be the wherewithal to garnish
our 18-k, never fear. Just let's have a look up-stairs, and then I'll go after something for
the larder."
They left the down-stairs rooms, silent save for a fly buzzing in a spider's web, and
together ascended the dusty stairs. The railing was entirely gone; but the concrete steps
remained.
Stern helped the girl, in spite of the twinge of pain it caused his wounded arm. His heart
beat faster--so, too, did hers--as they gained the upper story. The touch of her was, to him,
like a lighted match flung into a powder magazine; but he bit his lip, and though his face
paled, then flushed, he held his voice steady as he said:
"So then, bats up here? Well, how the deuce do they get in and out? Ah! That broken
window, where the elm-branch has knocked out the glass--I see! That's got to be fixed at
once!"

He brushed webs and dust from the remaining panes, and together they peered out over
the orchard, out across the river, now a broad sheet of molten gold. His arm went about
her; he drew her head against his heart, fast-beating; and silence fell.
"Come, Allan," said the girl at length, calmer than he. "Let's see what we've got here to
do with. Oh, I tell you to begin with," and she smiled up frankly at him, "I'm a
tremendously practical sort of woman. You may be an engineer, and know how to build
wireless telegraphs and bridges and--and things; but when it comes to home--building--"
"I admit it. Well, lead on," he answered; and together they explored the upper rooms. The
sense of intimacy now lay strong upon them, of unity and of indissoluble love and
comradeship. This was quite another venture than the exploration of the tower, for now
they were choosing a home, their home, and in them the mating instinct had begun to
thrill, to burn.
Each room, despite its ruin and decay, took on a special charm, a dignity, the
foreshadowing of what must be. Yet intrinsically the place was mournful, even after
Stern had let the sunshine in.
For all was dark desolation. The rosewood and mahogany furniture, pictures, rugs, brass
beds, all alike lay reduced to dust and ashes. A gold clock, the porcelain fittings of the
bath-room, and some fine clay and meerschaum pipes in what had evidently been Van
Amburg's den--these constituted all that had escaped the tooth of time.
In a front room that probably had been Sara's, a mud-swallow had built its nest in the far
corner. It flew out, frightened, when Stern thrust his hand into the aperture to see if the
nest were tenanted, fluttered about with scared cries, then vanished up the broad
fireplace.
"Eggs--warm!" announced Stern. "Well, this room will have to be shut up and left. We've
got more than enough, anyhow. Less work for you, dear," he added, with a smile. "We
might use only the lower floor, if you like. I don't want you killing yourself with
housework, you understand."
She laughed cheerily.
"You make me a broom and get all the dishes and things together," she answered, "and
then leave the rest to me. In