Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 2, 1922 — page 157: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MANY WATERS. had burned up to a steady light he turned to examine his surroundings carefully. The fireplace was bare of ashes. The floor was surprisingly free of dust. Both rooms, in fact, were as clean as though daily swept and dusted. And this house had been untenanted for twenty years! Through the solitary window he could see the white foam that encircled the island and the turquoise of the sea beyond. With surprise he realized that the glass was clear, free alike of dust and incrusted spray. It had grown quite dark now, save for the soft light that hangs always above the sea. The air was chilly and rather damp. Worthington picked up the lantern and placed it on the table, hesitated for a mo- ment, then went out and down the path to the spit of land. Gathering an armful of driftwood, he returned and placed it on the clean hearth, then lit a match and held it to the pile. The dry, salt-impregnated wood caught with a cheerful crackle and the golden flames licked upward, sending blue, dancing shadows against the walls. ‘“More cheerful now,” Worthington told himself. ‘“ Nothing quite so friendly as a wood fire.” Opening a package, he spread his supper on the small table. He had nothing from which to drink, save the awkward water jug, so he opened the rickety cupboard and peered within. A half dozen blue plates were piled on one shelf. Beside them stood two pink water glasses and a fat pitcher with staring pink roses on its sides. Some- how, the sight of the poor little collection sent a lump into Worthington’s throat. He took down, with a touch that Was almost reverent, one of the pink glasses and placed it on the table beside him. “T'll wash you and put you back when 1m through,” he promised and turned to the abundant meal Mrs. Epps had prepared. As he:ate, his thoughts were busy, vain- ly trying to visualize the owner of the little gray house who had left it so mysteriously to disappear into the greater mystery of the sea. Who was she? Why had she chosen to live here alone? Was she-married? Or a spinster, perhaps, to whom this small, neat nest had been a refuge? A refuge from what? His imagination was unequal to the 627 task of answering these questions, and he dismissed them. How amused Della would be when he told her of his little adventure! No, not amused. If Della were here she would be very tender toward this lonely lit- tle house; she would understand, perhaps, what had been in that other woman’s mind. He tried to picture Della opposite him, gave that up finally, and rose to gather up the broken bits of food and make them into a neat package. After cleansing the glass he replaced it in the cupboard, lit his pipe, and stepped across to the window. It was dark outside, a darkness that seemed to draw near, to be reaching vel- vety hands toward the lantern flame. He turned back to the cheerfulness of the fire, and, as he did so, saw an odd mark on the window sill. Bending down to exam- ine it closer, he found that it was a circle worn into the wood. “The lamp, by Jove! Of course it would wear a place for itself if it were put here every night, year after year.” Acting on a sudden, uncontrollable impulse, Worth- ington picked up the lantern and placed it over the worn, round spot. The fire had flickered down to red coals. The wind was rising and murmuring in the spruce branches, a gentle obligato to the music of the sea. Worthington lifted his arms above his head and yawned. How sleepy this sea air did make one! He un- folded his blanket, crossed the room, and tried the strength of the couch with a ten- tative hand. It crumbled beneath his touch. Somewhat startled by its sudden collapse, he moved back to the fireplace and spread his blanket before it. Refilling his pipe, he lay down and sleepily watche@ the glow fading in the fireplace, dying down to white ashes. Presently he knocked out the pipe and laid it beside him. It was deliciously quiet. The wail of the sea in the rocky cavern had ceased as the tide went out. What a good rest he was having! He would go back to work fit and ready. Della! His heart thrilled to her name. A year’s hard work and then es ©: ere The stars were shining faintly now. Bet- ter get up and put out that lantern... . There was the far-off cry of a gull... the Gomichbooks.com