The Master-Knot of Human Fate | Page 5

for himself; that had been the main bond of union. He was to have made a great place in the world: the applause of listening senates was to have been his; wealth, fame, position, all the possibilities of life were gone; nothing but barely life itself remained. A living might be wrung from nature, but for ambition,--what? Surely somewhere on earth there were other human beings; the destruction, if irreparable, was not universal. Sooner or later some hardy sailor would find the surviving peaks of this new Atlantis. At least, if the woman within was not his world, he was thankful that no one else was; and having looked the grim truth in the face, he too slept.
It was long past noon when the dog wakened him, and he started to his feet, determined that, having lost all else, they should keep their sound, clear brains. He walked about the park, which contained perhaps five hundred acres. There were half a dozen cows, as many horses, some burros, and a few chickens. There was a rude stable and a few farm implements. There was a large tunnel in the mountain-side, and some mining machinery lying about its entrance. The dog, seeming to realize some of the responsibilities of life, herded the cattle and drove them toward the cabin. When they reached it, she was standing in the doorway. She had made her toilet, and looked fresh and calm.
"These are our flocks and our herds," he said in greeting. "What shall we call them?"
She smiled rather wanly. "Wasn't it Adam who named the animals? You shall have that honor."
"Very well," he answered; "but if this is the garden, there is an angel with a flaming sword at the gateway. Do not pass it again. Our life is here, here,--do you understand? We must give ourselves time to get used to it, time to realize that we are alive. We must be very patient, for whatever has befallen us, whether we are in the body or out of it, this through which we have passed is a miracle, and only time can tell if it is more. Do not look upon the change again, at least not now. You will stay here, and we will work together, and be content for awhile?"
"Content?" she said, "content? We will be happy."

II
There is always work, And tools to work withal, for those who will; And blessed are the horny hands of toil!
LOWELL.
"Do you remember Gabriel Betteredge?" asked Adam, a day or so later, as he watched her set the house in order after their breakfast. "You know in times of great mental perturbation he always sought comfort and counsel from the pages of 'Robinson Crusoe.' When in doubt he waited until to-morrow, as Robinson advised; and no matter what his perplexities, he always found just what he wanted in that infallible book. If I remember correctly, but it's years since I read it, Robinson goes on a voyage of discovery the first thing."
"He built a raft to get away from the wreck first, I think," she said reflectively. "Or did he build the raft to get to the wreck? I can't remember. And then he built a house. Somewhere along there he wrote down his situation in a deadly parallel; I have sometimes wondered if he was the inventor of that style. But he offset the debit of being cast away with gratitude for having escaped with his life. We're not, at least I'm not, sure that belongs on the credit side."
"We don't want to do much exploring yet," he answered. "If we have no wreck to supply us with all sorts of things, we have a house ready to hand, not exactly as we would either of us have ordered it, I fancy, but better than we could build. Do you know what there is in it? We might begin our investigations here."
"'With lamp in hand we will explore,'" she hummed, "but two rooms and a cellar do not promise much. There is nothing to see in this room, except what we do see, and the contents of that chest, which is locked."
Adam tried the lock, then shook the chest. "There's nothing in it, anyhow," he said.
"As to the other room," she went on, "there is a bedroom set,--a better one than I should have expected to find in a place like this,--and a closet with some clothes in it. The man was about your size, but the feminine garments--well--they are all about the length of my bicycle skirt, and on the shelf there is a pile of bedding. There is no trap door leading into either subterranean or overhead apartments. In fact, there is nothing else, except a chair. It's very uninteresting."
Adam had been moving about the room, and stopped before the bookshelf.