Part 11 (1/2)

He looked at them closely in a puzzled way. He read a label aloud in a dragging voice.

”Ann Hutchinson, Liverpool. What's--what's Liverpool?

”Oh, come,” encouraged Little Ann, ”you know that. It's a place in England. We're going back to England.”

He stood and gazed fixedly before him. Then he began to rub his fingers across his forehead. Ann knew the straining look in his eyes.

He was making that horrible struggle to get back somewhere through the darkness which shut him in. It was so painful a thing to see that even Hutchinson turned slightly away.

”Don't!” said Little Ann, softly, and tried to draw him away.

He caught his breath convulsively once or twice, and his voice dragged out words again, as though he were dragging them from bottomless depths.

”Going--back--to--England--back to England--to England.”

He dropped into a chair near by, his arms thrown over its back, and broke, as his face fell upon them, into heavy, deadly sobbing--the kind of sobbing Tembarom had found it impossible to stand up against.

Hutchinson whirled about testily.

”Dang it!” he broke out, ”I wish Tembarom'd turn up. What are we to do?” He didn't like it himself. It struck him as unseemly.

But Ann went to the chair, and put her hands on the shuddering shoulder, bending over the soul-wrung creature, the wisdom of centuries in the soft, expostulatory voice which seemed to reach the very darkness he was lost in. It was a wisdom of which she was wholly unaware, but it had been born with her, and was the building of her being.

”'s.h.!.+ 'S-h-h!” she said. ”You mustn't do that. Mr. Tembarom wouldn't like you to do it. He'll be in directly. 's.h.!.+ 'Sh, now!” And simple as the words were, their soothing reached him. The wildness of his sobs grew less.

”See here,” Hutchinson protested, ”this won't do, my man. I won't have it, Ann. I'm upset myself, what with this going back and everything. I can't have a chap coming and crying like that there. It upsets me worse than ever. And you hangin' over him! It won't do.”

Strangeways lifted his head from his arms and looked at him.

”Aye, I mean what I say,” Hutchinson added fretfully.

Strangeways got up from the chair. When he was not bowed or slouching it was to be seen that he was a tall man with square shoulders.

Despite his unshaven, haggard face, he had a sort of presence.

”I'll go back to my room,” he said. ”I forgot. I ought not to be here.”

Neither Hutchinson nor Little Ann had ever seen any one do the thing he did next. When Ann went with him to the door of the hall bedroom, he took her hand, and bowing low before her, lifted it gently to his lips.

Hutchinson stared at him as he turned into the room and closed the door behind him.

”Well, I've read of lords and ladies doin' that in books,” he said, ”but I never thought I should see a chap do it myself.”

Little Ann went back to her mending, looking very thoughtful.

”Father,” she said, after a few moments, ”England made him come near to remembering something.”

”New York'll come near making me remember a lot of things when I'm out of it,” said Mr. Hutchinson, sitting down heavily in his chair and rubbing his head. ”Eh, dang it! dang it!”

”Don't you let it, Father,” advised Little Ann. ”There's never any good in thinking things over.”

”You're not as cheerful yourself as you let on,” he said. ”You've not got much color to-day, my la.s.s.”