In the Valley of the Shadow | Page 6

clears the mind as throwing a few hands of poker.
Miss Strong--an invaluable person--is kindly assisting me. Did I say
three? Yes, of course. Thank you. We are playing for beans only, you
see."
Belden watched them curiously. She sat as imperturbably as by Caddy's
bedside, her eyes fixed thoughtfully on her cards.
"--And raise you three," she said.
"Five more. You will excuse me, Belden, but your aunt, Mrs. Wetherly,
is a somewhat unusually irritating woman. I'll see you, Miss Strong--ah,
yes, two pair, queens up."
"What has she done?"
"She insists that Mrs. Moore shall not only see Mr. Burchard, to which
I have not the least objection, but that he shall hold a communion
service, directly, there. Now, if your sister had asked for this herself, it
would be another matter, but unless this is the case I always regard it as
a depressing agent. It is a strain, in any case."
"I think Mrs. Moore will go through with it very easily, doctor," Miss
Strong interposed, slipping the cards into their leather envelope and
gathering up the beans. "She will be fresh from her nap, and it will be
very short. She has promised Mrs. Wetherly, you know, and it would
distress her more to break it--"
"All right, all right. Have it your way. Much obliged."
He took the cards from her and went out.
"My aunt is very trying," Belden began.
"Oh, many people feel so about it," she assured him, "especially High
Church people. She only did what she thought right."
He drew a breath of relief.

"You'll see she's not too tired?" he asked; and as he went to luncheon
he wondered at the comfort he derived from her mute nod.
He was roused from the table, where the dishes left by them were
untouched for the most part, by a disturbance in the hall.
"It's the priest," the waitress murmured, and with a frown he checked
her rising tears.
Aunt Lucia bustled through the room.
"You must come, Wilmot," she whispered eagerly, "she asked for you.
Peter is locked into his room, and neither of the children has been
confirmed. Susy, of course, is a Presbyterian. Not that dear Mr.
Burchard would object--he is so broad. But you have no excuse. Oh, it
is beautiful, Wilmot! She looks so lovely!"
He followed her wearily. What did it matter? It seemed to him ominous,
terrible--but it would please Caddy. She sat propped up in the bed. Her
cheeks were crimson, her eyes bright. White chrysanthemums stood in
silver vases, candles burned softly on the white-draped dresser. Mr.
Burchard, in the hall just beyond, was slipping his surplice over his
head. A faint odor of wine mingled with the flowers.
Belden dared not look at her. She was to him, in that moment, mystic,
holy, a thing apart. He dropped on his knees beside a silvery white
apron, his eyes on the floor, his heart beating hard.
The clergyman entered slowly, the service began. It was all a
murmured maze to him. Aunt Lucia sobbed quietly beside him, but as
he glanced at her he caught a light on her wet, uplifted face that thrilled
him strangely. Her deep responses spoke a faith and surety that
swallowed for the moment all her little sillinesses and obstinacies.
The solemn words grew in intensity, the candles flickered audibly in
the sacred hush. The clergyman moved toward the bed, and they heard
Caddy's breath draw out in a deep, shuddering sob; her teeth chattered
against the cup.

Belden set his jaw; it was cruel, brutal! They were killing her. His
clinched fist moved blindly toward his neighbor: he touched her hand
and gripped it fiercely.
In front of him on the wall hung a large photograph of Billy's base-ball
nine in full uniform. He could have drawn it from memory, afterwards.
Billy, he remembered, was a great catcher. He held hard to that cool,
firm hand.
"--be amongst you and remain with you always. Amen." There was a
little stir. The hand was drawn from his.
"Come, now," whispered Aunt Lucia, and he walked, stumbling and
stiff from kneeling, from the room. At the door he glanced a second
backward, but only Dr. Hitchcock was to be seen, bending over the bed.
Miss Strong had already taken away candles and flowers, and Caddy's
triple mirror was back on the dresser.
Mr. Burchard, in his long black cassock, offered his hand cordially.
"I am glad you could be with us, Mr. Belden," he began, but the other
broke in:
"If you have tired her, if this--makes a difference--" he muttered
fiercely, "you will have me to settle with. Mind that!"
He hurried down the stairs, his hands still clinched. Peter was starting
off with the road-wagon. They nodded shortly