Mary stood overwhelmed by the tragedy she had witnessed. For the time her brain refused to record sensations. She had seen too much, felt too much in the past eight hours. Soul and body were numb.
The first impressions of returning consciousness were fixed on Nance. She had risen suddenly from the floor and smoothed the hair back from Jim's forehead with tender touch as if afraid to wake him. She drew the quilt from the kitchen floor, spread it over the body, and lifted her eyes to Mary's. It was only too plain.
Reason had gone.
She tipped close and put her fingers on her lips.
“Sh! We mustn't wake him. He's tired. Let him sleep. It's my boy. He's come home. We'll fix him a fine Christmas dinner. I've got a turkey. I'll bake a cake——” she paused and laughed softly. “I've got eggs too, fresh laid yesterday. We'll make egg-nog all day and all night. I ain't had no Christmas since that devil stole him. We'll have one this time, won't we?”
The girl's wits were again alert. She must run for help. A minute to humor the old woman's delusion and she might return before any harm came to her. Jim had not moved a muscle. It was plain that he was beyond help.
“Yes,” Mary answered cheerfully. “You fix the cake—and I'll get the wood to make a fire.”
Nance laughed again.
“We'll have the dinner all ready for him when he wakes, won't we?”
“Yes. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Nance hurried into the kitchen humming an old song in a faltering voice that sent the cold chills down the girl's spine.
Mary slipped quietly through the door and ran with swift, sure foot down the narrow road along which the machine had picked its way the afternoon before. The cabin they had passed last could not be more than a mile.
She made no effort to find the logs for pedestrians when the road crossed the brook. She plunged straight through the babbling waters with her shoes, regardless of skirts.
Panting for breath, she saw the smoke curling from the cabin chimney a quarter of a mile away.
“Thank God!” she cried. “They're awake!”
She was so glad to have reached her goal, her strength suddenly gave way and she dropped to a boulder by the wayside to rest. In two minutes she was up and running with all her might.
She rushed to the door and knocked.
A mountaineer in shirt-sleeves and stockings answered with a look of mild wonder.
“For God's sake come and help me. I must have a doctor quick. We spent the night at Mrs. Owens'. She's lost her mind completely—a terrible thing has happened—you'll help me?”
“Cose I will, honey,” the mountaineer drawled. “Jest ez quick ez I get on my shoes.”
“Is there a doctor near?” she asked breathlessly.
He answered without looking up:
“The best one that God ever sent to a sick bed. He don't charge nobody a cent in these parts. He just heals the sick because hit's his callin'. Come from somewhar up North and built hisself a fine log house up on the side of the mountains. Hit's full of all the medicines in the world, too——”
“Will you ask him to come for me?” Mary broke in.
“I'll jump on my hoss an' have him thar in half a' hour. You can run right back, honey, and look out for the po' ole critter till we get thar.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” she answered grate fully.
“Not at all, not at all!” he protested as he swung through the door and hurried to the low-pitched sheds in which his horse and cow were stabled. “Be thar in no time!”
When Mary returned, Nance was still busy in the kitchen. She had built a fire and put the turkey in the oven.
Mary was counting the minutes now until the doctor should come. The old woman's prattle about the return of her lost boy, so big and strong and handsome, had become unendurable. She felt that she should scream and collapse unless help came at once. She looked at her watch. It was just thirty-five minutes from the time she had left the cabin in the valley below.
She sprang to her feet with a smothered cry of joy. The beat of a horse's hoof at full gallop was ringing down the road.
In two minutes the Doctor's firm footstep was heard at the kitchen door.
Nance turned with a look of glad surprise.
“Well, fur the land sake, ef hit ain't Doctor Mulford! Come right in!” she cried.
The Doctor seized her hand.
“And how is my good friend, Mrs. Owens, this morning?” he asked cheerfully.
Mary was studying him with deep interest. She had asked herself the question a hundred times how much she could tell him—what to say and what to leave unsaid. One glance at his calm, intellectual face was enough. He was a man of striking appearance, six feet tall, forty-five years of age, hair prematurely gray and a slight stoop to his broad shoulders. His brown eyes seemed to enfold the old woman in their sympathy.
Nance was chattering her answer to his greeting.
“Oh, I'm feelin' fine, Doctor—” she dropped her voice confidentially—“and you're just in time for a good dinner. My boy that was lost has come home. He's a great big fellow, wears fine clothes and come up the mountain all the way in a devil wagon.” She put her hand to her mouth. “Sh! He's asleep! We won't wake him till dinner! He's all tired out.”
The Doctor nodded understandingly and turned toward Mary.
“And this young lady?”
“Oh, that's his wife from New York—ain't she purty?”
The Doctor saw the delicate hands trembling and extended his.
No word was spoken. None was needed. There was healing in his touch, healing in his whole being. No man or woman could resist the appeal of his personality. Their secrets were yielded with perfect faith.
“Come with me quickly,” Mary whispered.
“I understand,” he answered carelessly.
Turning again to Nance, he said with easy confidence:
“I'll not disturb you with your cooking, Mrs. Owens. Go right on with it. I'll have a little chat with your son's wife. If she's from New York I want to ask her about some of my people up there——”
“All right,” Nance answered, “but don't you wake HIM! Go with her inter the shed-room.”
“We'll go on tip-toe!” the Doctor whispered.
Nance nodded, smiled and bent again over the oven.
Mary led him quickly through the living-room, head averted from the couch, and into the prison cell in which she had passed the night. The physician glanced with a startled look at the gold still scattered on the floor.
She seized his hand and swayed.
He touched the brown hair of her bared head gently and pressed her hand.
“Steady, now, child, tell me quickly.”
“Yes, yes,” she gasped, “I'll tell you the truth——”
He held her gaze.
“And the whole truth—it's best.”
Mary nodded, tried to speak and failed. She drew her breath and steadied herself, still gripping his hand.
“I will,” she began faintly. “He's dead——”
She paused and nodded toward the living-room.
“The man—her son?”
“Yes. We came last night from Asheville. We were on our honeymoon. We haven't been married but three weeks. I never knew the truth about his life and character until last night when he told me that this old woman was his mother. I found a case of jewels in the bag he carried—jewels that belonged to a man in New York who was robbed and shot. I recognized the case. He confessed to me at last in cold, brutal words that he was a thief. I couldn't believe it at first. I tried to make him give up his criminal career. He laughed at me. He gloried in it. I tried to leave him. He choked me into insensibility and drove me into this cell, where I spent the night. He brought the gold that you saw on the floor which he had honestly made to give to his old mother—but for a devilish purpose. He showed it to her last night to rouse her avarice and make her first agree to hide his stolen goods. He succeeded too well. Before he had revealed himself she slipped into the room at daylight while he slept in a drunken stupor, murdered him and took the money. The struggle waked me and I rushed in. She gripped her knife to kill me. I told her that she had murdered her own son and she went mad——”
She paused for breath and her lips trembled piteously.
“You know what to do, Doctor?”
“Yes!”
“And you'll help me?”
He smiled tenderly and nodded his head.
“God knows you need it, child!”
The nerves snapped at last, and she sank a limp heap at his feet.
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