CHAPTER ONE OF THE MARIANNE This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Betsy Bush. October 2009. THE MARIANNE by Samuel Merwin Dear HKW. This tale dictates itself to you as a matter of right. For we grew up together on the bank of Lake Michigan, and you have not forgotten, over there in Paris, the Real House on Stilts, nor the miles we have tramped along the beach. Nor, I am sure, the grim old lifesaver on the night patrol near Luddington, and his sturdy scorn for our student lifesavers at Evanston, and the endless night on Black Lake, with Klondike Andrews at the tiller, and never a breath of wind. We shall not forget that. Once we differed, I failed to tempt you into a paddle in the oaky, one fresh spring day three years ago. But then, your instinct of self-preservation always worked better than mine, as the adventurer in the Swamp Scott Dory will recall to you. But after all, these doings do not make up the reason why the story is partly yours, nor do the changes in the text that spring from your friendly comment. I will tell you the real reason. Early, very early, one summer morning, you and I stood on the wheel-house of the Paramarchet Steamer No. 4. Or wasn't the No. 3? A few hours from Milwaukee. The lake was still, the thick mist was faintly illuminated by the hidden sun. Of a sudden, while the steamer was throbbing through the silence, a motionless schooner, painted blue, with a man in a red shirt at the wheel, loomed through the mist, stood out for the vivid moment, then faded away. That schooner was the Mary Ann, and the man at the wheel was Dick Smiley. What if he should someday chance upon this tale and declare it untrue? We know better, but we saw it there. SM, Netherwood, New Jersey, January 1904. Chapter 1. Dick and His Mary Ann The Mary Ann was the one lumber schooner on Lake Michigan that always appeared freshly painted. It was Dick Smiley's wildest extravagance to keep her so. Sky blue she was, Annie's favorite color, with a broad white line below the rail, and to see her running down on the north wind, her sails white in the sun, her bow laying the waves aside in gentle rolls to port and starboard. Her captain balancing easily at the wheel, in red shirt, red and blue neckerchief and slouch hat, was to feel stirring in one the old spirit of the lakes. It was a lowering day off Manistee, out on the horizon now and then, dipping below it, a tug was struggling to hold two barges up into the wind. Within the harbor at the wharf of the lumber company lay the Mary Ann. Two of her crew were below, sleeping off in overdose of Manistee whiskey. The third, a boy of seventeen, got up in slavish imitation of his captain, red shirt, slouch hat, and knoll, was at work lashing down the deck load. Roke, the mate, stood on the wharf, the center of a little group of stevedores and rivermen. Hi there, pink, he shouted at the red shirt, what are you doing there? The boy threw a sweeping glance lakeward before replying, making fast. That'll do for you, there won't be no start this afternoon. But Captain Smiley said, none are your lip, or I'll Captain Smiley you.  Coming up worse too, give you a stiff time with all that stuff aboard. I ain't so sure about that, said Roke with a swagger. If I was Captain of this schooner, she'd start on the minute, but Smiley is one of your fair weather sort. Sure he is. He'd done a heap of talking about that time he'd brung the William Jones into Black Lake before the wind, the day the John T. Eversley was lost. But Billy Underdown was sailing with him then, and he told me his self, that he had the wheel all the way. Smiley never done a thing, but hang on to the companion way, and Holler added to look out for the north side of the surf, outside the piers. And there's my little Andy, that ain't nine-year-old till the 6th of September. Could have told him the surf set south off Black Lake with a northwest wind. Hadn't been for Billy, the Lord only knows where Dick Smiley'd be today. A tug hand had joined the group, and now he addressed himself to Roke. Captain Peters wants to know if you were going to try to make it, Mr. Roke.  Well, I guess he won't be sorry to wait till morning. What time do you think you'll want us? Six o'clock sharp. Them's Captain Smiley's orders, is they? Them's my orders, and they're good enough for you. Oh, that's all right, of course. Only Captain Peters, he said if it was anybody else, he'd just tie up and wait. But there ain't never any telling, he says, what Dick Smiley'll take it into his head to do. You tell your Captain that Mr. Roke said to come at six in the morning. All right, I'll tell him. Say, Captain Smiley ain't anywhere around, is he? No, Captain Smiley ain't anywhere's around, mimicked Roke angrily. If you want to know whereabouts Captain Smiley is, he's Uptown Skylarkin, that's where he is. The River Hands laughed at this. I reckon he's something of a hand for the ladies, Dick Smiley is, with them blue eyes of his, and said one. I ain't a tellin', you understand, but there's boys in town here that could let you know a thing or two if they was minded. As a matter of fact, Dick was at that moment in an Uptown jewelry shop fingering a necklace of coral. I want a longer one, he was saying, with something pretty hanging on the end of it. There, that's the boy, the one with big rough beads and the red rose carved on the end. Must be somebody's birthday, Captain, observed the jeweler with a wink. And Dick, who could never resist a wink, replied, That's what, day after tomorrow too, and I haven't any too much time to make it in. Here's a nice piece, if she likes the real red. Dick took it in his hands and nodded over it. I think that would please her, she likes bright colors. He drew a wallet from a hip pocket and disclosed a thick bundle of bills. I shouldn't think you'd like to carry so much money on you, Captain, in your line of work. It isn't so much, they are all ones. But the jeweler, seeing a double axe on the top, only smiled and remarked that it was a dark day. Yes, too dark, I don't like it. Makes me think of the cyclone three years ago, April, when the Kate Howard winked down off Lakeville. I spent three hours roosting on the top mass that day. It was black then, like this. If it keeps up, you'll have to turn on your lights in here. Yes, I will. It wouldn't hurt now. Well, goodbye, Captain. Drop in again next time you run in here. All right, but there's no telling when that will be. I have to go where Captain Stenzenberger sends me, you know. You don't own your schooner yet, then? No, only a quarter of it. Well, goodbye. And he left the shop with the corals securely wrapped, stowed in an inside pocket. The first big drops of rain were falling when he reached the schooner. The deck was deserted, but he found Roke and his wharf acquaintances settled comfortably in the cabin. Their talk stopped abruptly at the sight of his boots coming down the companion way.  Why, oh, it was looking so bad. I thought we'd better wait till you come. Where's the tug? Don't Peters know we want him? The loungers were silent. All looked at Roke. Why, yes, sure. He ain't showed up yet, though. You ain't going to try to make it, are you, Captain? asked the Riverman. Going to try? We are going to make it, if that's what you mean. One of the men rose. I'm going up the wharf, Captain, if you like. I'll speak to Peters. All right, I wish you would, and say, Pete, you take pink and see that everything is down solid. I don't care to distribute those two-by-fours all down the east coast. Roke went out and the others got up one by one and took shelter in the lee of a lumber pile on the wharf. A little later, when he saw the tug steaming up the river, Roke shook the rain from his eyes and looked long at the black cloud-villows that were rolling up from the northwest. Then he slipped below and took a long pull at his flask. The tug came alongside and then Roke saw to Dick. Captain, what's the use? he said in an agitated voice. Don't you see we're running our nose right into it? Why, if we was a three hundred footer, we'd have our hands full out there. I don't like to say nothing but...  You see how it is, Captain. I... What are you talking about? All right, pink, make fast there. Who's running the schooner? You or me? Oh, I don't mean nothing, Captain, but seeing there ain't no particular hurry. No hurry? Why, man, I've got to lay alongside the Lakeville pier by Wednesday night or break something. What's the matter with you anyhow? Lost your nerve?  Here, here, Pete, none of that. We're going to pull out in just about two minutes. If you aren't good for it, I'll wait long enough to tumble your slops ashore. Put your mind on it. Are you coming or not? Oh, I'm coming, Captain, of course, but...  The idlers on the wharf had not heard what was said, but they saw a roke change color and ducked below for another pull at his flask. The tugs swung out into the stream. The Marianne fell slowly away from the wharf. Call up those loafers, Pete, shouted Smiley as he rested his hands on the wheel. The two sailors roused by a shake in an oath, scrambled drowsily upon the deck with red eyes and unsettled nerves, and were set to work raising the jib in double-reef and foresail and mainsail. Captain Peters sounded three blasts for the first bridge and headed downstream. Passing on through the narrow draws of the bridges and between the buildings that lined the river, the Marianne drew near to the long piers that formed the entrance to the channel, and roke, standing with flushed face by the foremast, looked out over the piers of the Angry Lake, now a lead-gray color, here streaked with foam, there half obscured by the driving squalls. His eyes followed the track of one squall after another as they tore their way at right angles to the surf. Already the an had begun to stagger. At the end of the towing-hauser the tug was nosing into the half-spent rollers that got in between the piers and was tossing the spray up into the wind. One of the life-saving crew in shining oil-skins was walking the pier. He paused and looked at them, even called out some words that the wind took from his lips and mockingly swept away. Roke looked at him with dull eyes, saw his lips moving behind his hollowed hands, looked out again at the muddy streaks and the whirling mist, out beyond at the two barges laboring on the horizon, gazed at the white and yellow surf. Then his eyes lighted a little and he made his way back to the wheel.  Just look at that and tell me you can make it. I know better.   Who are you talking to? Let me blow the horn, Dick. Take too late to stop him. We can get back all right. Start in the morning, don't you see, Dick? Smiley's eyes were fixed keenly on him for a moment. Then they swept to the windward pier. He snatched the horn from Roke's hand and blew a blast. The sailors up-forward heard it and shouted and waved their arms. A tug hand, seeing the commotion, though he heard nothing, finally was made to understand, and Captain Peters slowed his engines. Smiley, meanwhile, was steering up close to the windward pier. Tumble off here, Pete, he ordered. Quick now. What you going to do to me? Ain't going to put me off there, are you?  There's no room for you here. Hold on there, Dick.  You'll have to go to Captain Stensenberger for that.  Quick now.  But the words were lost. The young sailor and red shirt fairly pitched him over the rail. The lifesaver running alongside gave him a hand. Captain Peters was leaning out impatiently from his wheelhouse door, and now at the signal he dove back in hurriedly rang for full steam ahead. It was no place to run chances. And as the schooner passed out into the open lake, leaving the lighthouse behind her, and soon afterward casting off the tug, there was no time to look back at the raging figure on the pier. Though once, to be sure, Dick had turned with a laugh and shouted out a few lines of a wild parody on the song of the day, Baby Mine. The song proved so amusing that, when they were free of the tug and were careening gaily off to the south-west, with all fast on board and a boiling sea around them, he took it up again. And braced at a sharp angle with the deck, one eye on the sails, another cast to windward, his brown hands knotted around the spokes of the wheel, he sang away at the top of his lungs.  Young Harper worked his way aft along the upper rail, his eye fell on the figure of his captain, and he laughed and nodded. Lively going, Captain. Lively it certainly was. Guess there ain't no doubt about our making it. Doubt your uncle, roared the captain, and he winked at his young admirer. Guess Mr. Roke didn't like the looks of it. Guess not. Harper crept forward again, and smiley with a laugh in his eye, squared his chest to the storm, and thought of the necklace stowed away in the cabin. And then he thought of her, who was to be its owner day after tomorrow, and, I wonder if we'll make it, thought he. I wonder. And make it they did, sliding gaily up into a humming south-west wind, with every rag on the sheets hauled home, with the bluest of skies above them and the bluest of water beneath, for the lakes play at April weather all around the calendar. Wednesday afternoon found them turning gross point. The bright new paint was prematurely old now. The small boat was missing from the stern dappets. The cabin windows had been crushed in, and one sailor carried his arm in a sling. But they had made it. Harper hollow-eyed, but Mary had the wheel. Smiley was below, snatching his first nap in forty-eight hours, with the red corals under his head. Ole, called Harper, wake up the captain, will you? I can't leave the wheel. He said we was to call him off gross point. So Ole called him, and was soon followed back on deck by another hollow-eyed figure. Guess it's just as well Mr. Roke didn't come along, observed the boy as he relinquished the wheel. He'd had all he wanted, and no mistake. He had enough to start with. There wasn't any room for drunks this trip. As he spoke, Smiley was running his eye over the familiar yellow bluffs, glancing at the lighthouse tower, at the stack of the waterworks farther down the coast, at the green billows of foliage, with here and there a spire rising above them, and last and longest at the two piers that reached far out into the lake, one black with coal sheds, the other and nearer yellow with new lumber. Between these piers built in the curve of the beach and nestling under the bluff was a curious patchwork of a house, built of odds and ends of lumber, even in the rear of driftwood, perched up on piles so that the higher waves might run under the kitchen floor. Small wonder that the youngsters of the shore had dubbed it the house on stilts. Old Captain Fargo, and who was not a captain in those days, had built it with his own hands, just as he had built every one of the sailboats and rowboats that strewed the beach, and had woven every one of the nuts that were wound up reels up there under the bluff. A surprisingly spacious old house it was, too, with room for Annie upstairs on the lakeside, looking out on a porch that was just large enough to hold her pots and boxes of geraniums and of nasturtiums and forget-me-nots. Smiley could not see the house yet. It was hidden by the lumber piles on the pier. But his eyes knew where to look, and they lingered there, all the while that his sailor's sixth sense was watching the set of the sails and the scutting ripples that marked the windpuffs. He wore a clean red shirt today and a neckerchief that lay in even folds around his neck. Redolent of soap he was, his face and hands scrubbed until they shone, and still his eyes tried to look through fifty feet of lumber to the little flowering porch until a sail came in sight around the end of the pier. Then he straightened up and shifted his grip on the spokes. The small boat was also blue with a white stripe. At the stern sat a single figure.  He knew, even before he brought his glass to bear on her, that she was dressed in a blue sailor suit with a rolling blue and white collar cut V-shape and giving a glimpse of her round brown neck. He knew that her black hair was gathered simply with a ribbon and left to hang about her shoulders, that her arms were bared to the elbow. He could see that she was carrying a few yards more sail than was safe for a cat boat and that breeze, and there was a laugh in his own eyes as he shook his head over her recklessness. He knew that it would do no good to speak to her about it, and her father and mother had never been able to look upon her with any but fond foolish eyes. Steadily the Marianne drew in toward the pier. Rapidly the captain, so Annie called her boat, came bobbing and skimming out to meet her. A few moments more, and Dick could wave his hat and shout, Ahoy there! And he heard in reply, as he had known that he should, a Mary, Ahoy there! I'll beat you in! And then they raced for it, Annie gaining, as she generally could, while the schooner was laboriously coming about and working in slowly under reduced sail. She ran in close to the pier, came up into the wind, and waited there while the crew was making the schooner fast. At length the stevedores started unloading the lumber and Dick was free. He leaned on the rail and looked down at Annie, who had, by this time, come alongside, and he saw that she had a bunch of blue and white forget-me-nots in her hair.  Well, I beat you! Take me aboard, Annie. I've got something for you. All right, come down. You can take the sheet.  Hold on, Annie, come about. I don't have to go in yet. Where do you want to go? I don't care. Run out a little way.  Well now, he began, as they settled down for a run off the wind. I didn't know whether I was going to get here today or not. It was pretty bad. You were thinking of me, weren't you, Annie? She smiled and gave her attention to the boat. Roke was drunk, and I had to leave him at Manistee. You didn't come down shorthanded it, did you, Dick? In that storm? He nodded. But how? You couldn't have got much sleep. I didn't get any till this noon. Now that's just like you, Dick. Always running risks when you don't have to. But I did have to. I don't see why. What days today? A mischievous light came into her eyes, but her face was demure. Wednesday, she replied. Yes, I knew that. Why did you ask me then? Oh, Annie, Annie, when are you going to stop talking that way? Again, the boat claimed all her attention. He leaned forward and dropped his voice. Don't you think I've waited most long enough, Annie? Now, Dick, be sensible. What, haven't I been sensible? Not a word have I said for two months, and I told you then I would speak on your birthday. So you really remembered my birthday? Remembered it, Annie? What a girl you are! Do you know how long I've been waiting? And all the boys laughing? It's two years this month. It was on your birthday that I saw you first, you know, and it wasn't a month after that that I spoke to you. How could I help it? Who could have waited longer?  Now, Dick, if you don't stop and be sensible, I'll take you straight in shore. Oh, you wouldn't do that, Annie. Yes, I would. I will now. Ready about. The captain came readily up into the wind, but stopped there with sail flagging, for Dick held the sheet and his hand had imprisoned hers on the tiller. Now, Dick, Dick, wait a minute.  Promise me you'll hold her in the wind while I get you your present. She hesitated and looked out toward the horizon.  You, you've forgotten what you promised. I know. I said I'd never take hold of your hand again until you put it in mine, didn't I? She nodded, still looking away. And I've broken the promise. Do you know why, Annie? It's because when you look at me the way you do sometimes, I could break every promise I've ever made and every law of Congress if I thought it would just keep you looking at me. Not a word from Annie. Promise me, Annie, that you'll hold her here. Still no word. Won't you just nod then? She hesitated a moment longer, then gave one uncertain little nod. He released her hand, held the sheet between his knees, drew the package from his pocket, and displayed the corals. She was trying bravely not to look around, but her glance wavered, and finally she turned and looked at it with eager eyes. Oh, Dick, did you bring that for me? I surely did. He held it up, and when she bent her head forward he slipped it over and around her neck, her eyes shown as she ran the red beads through her fingers and looked at the carved pendant. Dick leaned back and watched her contentedly. Finally she let her eyes steel upward and meet his, with a smile that was half roguish. I never really laughed at you, did I, Dick? He moved forward with sudden eagerness. Don't you think now is a good time to say yes, Annie?  And don't you see, when we're married, you can help me to save, and before we know it, we can have a home and a business of our own. She was bending over the corals. You didn't really think you could save more with—with me than you could alone, did you, Dick? Yes, I'm sure of it. It will give me something to work for, don't you see? But—but very shyly this. Haven't you anything to work for now? Oh, Annie, do you mean that? Are you telling me you'll give me the right to work for you? That's all I want to know. Now, Dick, please let go of my hand. You promised, you know. What is a promise now? If you knew how you'd torture me when you lead me on till I'm half-wild, then change around till I don't know what I've said or what you've said or hardly who I am. No, Dick, you mustn't. I mean it. We must go in. See, there's father on the beach. It must be suppertime. Wait a minute. I haven't half-told you—but she was merciless. The captain came about and headed storeward. Did you meet the revenue cutter anywhere up the lake? The foot? She was here yesterday. There you are again, all changed around. What do I care about the foot? When I'm just waiting to hear you say the only word that can make my life worth living. Now, Annie, you mustn't, Dick. I've let you say too much now. If you go on, you'll make me feel that I can't even thank you for your present. Was that all? Were you only thanking me? She nodded, and Dick's face fell into gloom. But when the captain was beached, and Annie had leaped lightly over the rail, she turned and gave him one merry blushing look that completely reversed the effect of her reproof. And as she hurried up to the house, he could only gaze after her helplessly. End of chapter one. Chapter two of The Marianne This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Betsy Bush. November 2009. The Marianne. By Samuel Merwin. Chapter two. The New Mate. In the morning the William Schmidt, Henry's smiley master, came in from Chicago and tied up across the pier from the Marianne. Henry, Dick's cousin, was a short, stocky man, said to be somewhat of a driver with his sailors. He seldom had much to say, never drank, was shrewd at a bargain, and was supposed to have a considerable sum stowed away in the local savings bank. Though he was wanting in the qualities that made his younger cousin popular, he was daring enough in his quiet way, and he had been known, when he thought the occasion justified it, to run long chances with his snub-nosed schooner. After breakfast, Dick walked across the broad pier between the piles of lumber and found Henry in his cabin. They greeted each other cordially. Sit down, said Henry. Did you come down through that norwester? Dick nodded. Have any trouble? Oh, no! Lost some sleep, that's all. You aren't going down to the yards today, are you? Yes, I think likely. Why? I'll go along with you. I'm ready to make another payment on the schooner. I've been thinking it over, and it strikes me I'm paying about three times what she's worth. What do you think? Would it do any harm to have a little talk about it with the captain? You know him better than I do. Henry shook his head. I wouldn't. He is too smart for you.  I have gone all over this ground before, you know. Of course, he is an old rascal, but I don't know of any other way you could even get an interest in a schooner. You see, you haven't any capital.  But don't say anything, whatever you do. You've got too good a thing there.  He isn't bleeding you. Just think it over, Dick.  You couldn't ask much more at your age. Have you heard from him yet, by the way? No. He spoke to me the other day about wanting to see you when you came in. There's another order to come down from Spencer. Where's that? Up in the Alpina country. Lake Huron, eh? Oh, isn't that where you were in the spring? Yes, I've been there. An old fellow named Spencer runs a little one-horse mill, and he's selling timber and shingles, and from what the captain said, I don't think he'd care if you brought along a little venture of your own. That's the way I used to do it when I was paying for the Schmidt. How could I do that? Spencer will give you a little credit. You can stow away a few thousand feet and clear twenty or thirty dollars. It helps along. All right. I'll try it. Are you sure the old man won't care? Oh, yes. He's willing enough to do the square thing, so long as it keeps us feeling good and doesn't lose him anything. Say, there's another thing, Henry. I fired Roke up at Manistee. Fired him? Henry's brows came together. Yes, I had to. I had stood him as long as I could. I don't know what the captain will say about that. I'd like to know what he can say. I was in command. Yes, I know. Of course, you had a right to, but the thing is to keep on his good side. Suppose we go right down to the yards and see if you can get your story in before Roke's. What does the captain care about my man I'd like to know? Now, keep your cool, Dick. Roke, you see, used to work for him. I don't know but what they're related, and it was because the captain spoke to me about him that I recommended him to you when I did. And look here, Dick. Henry smiled as he laid a hand on his cousin's shoulder. I'm a good deal older than you are, and you can take my word for it. Don't get sour on things. Of course people will do you if they can, but it's human nature, and you can't change it by growling about it. You are doing well, and what you need now is to keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Why should you want to hurry things along? A flush came over Dick's face. There's a reason all right enough. You see, Henry, there's a little girl not so very many miles from here. Oh-ho! thought Henry, a little girl. But his face was immobile, accepting a momentary curious expression that passed over it. Now don't get to thinking it's all fixed up because it isn't, not yet. But you see, I've been thinking that when I've got a little something to offer. There's another thing you can take my word for, my boy, said Henry with a dry smile. Don't get impetuous. Marrying may be all right, but it wants to be done careful. Captain Stensenberger's lumberyard was a few miles away at the Chicago City Limits. As the two sailors left the pier to walk up to the railway station, Dick was glad to change the subject for the first one that came into his head. What do you suppose the foot has been doing here this week, Dick? I heard she put in Tuesday or Wednesday. Looking for whiskey, Jim, I suppose. Oh, are they on that track again? Haven't you seen the papers? No, not for more than a week. Well, it's quite a yarn. From what has been said, I rather guess it's the liquor dealers that are stirring it up this time. There is a story around that he has been counter-fitting the red seal label on their bottles. I think they're all off the track, though. Anybody could tell them that there's no such man. Every time a case of smuggling comes up, the papers talk about whiskey-Jim, no matter if it's up at the Straits or down on the St. Lawrence. But what's the trouble now? Oh, they're saying that this fellow is a rich man that has a big smuggling system with agents all around the lakes and dealers in the cities that are in his pay, sort of a smuggling trust. Sounds like a fairy story. That's about what it is. The regular dealers have taken up the fight to protect their trade, and one of the papers in particular have put reporters on the case, and all that sort of thing. And as usual they're announcing just what they've done and what they're going to do. The old foot is to make a tour of the lakes and look into every port. And if there is any whiskey-Jim, I'll bet he's somewhere over in Canada by this time reading the papers and laughing at him. Captain Stensenberger was seated in his swivel chair in his dingy little one-story office at the corner of the lumberyard. His broad frame was overloaded with flesh. His punch seemed almost to rest on his thighs as he sat there, chewing an unlighted cigar in the corner of his mouth. A corner that had been molded around the cigar by long habit and looked incomplete when the cigar was not there.   When his two captains came in he rested his pudgy hands on the arms of his chair, readjusted his lips around the cigar and nodded. How are you boys? said he, in a husky voice. Have a good trip. This last remark was addressed to Dick. First part was bad, but it cleared up later. Did you put right out into that storm from Manistee? Yes. You see, I had the wind behind me all the way down. Got to get a new small boat, though. The captain did not press the subject. In return for the privilege of buying the schooner by installments, he permitted Dick to pay for the insurance, so the young man could be as reckless as he liked.  Step over and have a drink, boys, was the next formality, and the two stood aside while Stensenberger got his unwieldy body out of the chair, put on his hat, and led the way out. A joining a lumberyard on the west was a small-frame building bearing the sign The Teamsters Friend. It had been set down here presumably to catch the trade of the market gardeners who rumbled through in the small hours of every morning. In the rear, backed up against a lumberpile, was a long shed where the teams could wait under cover while their drivers were carousing within. A second sign, painted on the end of this shed, announced that Murphy and McGlory were the proprietors of the sample room and summer garden. The three men entered and seated themselves at table. There was no one behind the bar at the moment, but soon a woman glanced in through the rear doorway. Stensenberger smiled broadly on her and winked. How do you do, Madge? He said. Can't you give us a little something with a smile in it, one of your smiles, maybe now? She was a tall woman, with a full figure and snapping eyes, attractive in spite of a crow's foot wrinkle or so. She returned the smile warily and said, I'll call Joe, Mr. Stensenberger. You needn't do that now, Madge. Draw it with those pretty hands of yours. There's a deer. So she came in behind the bar, wiping her hands on her apron, and quietly awaited their orders. What'll it be, boys?  You might make it a ginger ale for me. I don't know what to do with that cousin of yours, said Stensenberger to Dick.  I don't like to trust a man that's got no vices. What are your vices anyhow, smiley? Henry smiled again. I asked Dick there. He ought to know all about me. Stensenberger looked from one to the other. Then he raised his foaming glass, and with a prosit and a stiff German nod, he put it down at a gulp. Ben readen about the revenue case. Henry asked of his superior. I saw something this morning. I've been quite interested in it. Billy Boynton told me yesterday that they had searched his schooner. It's a wonder they haven't got after us if they're holding up fellows like him. Do you think they'll ever get this whiskey gym, Captain? No, they talk too much. And they couldn't catch a mud-scow with that old side-wheeler of theirs. Guess that's right. The foot must have started in here before the Michigan, and she's thirty years old if she's a day. The boys are all talking about it down at the city. I dropped around at the hydrographic office after I saw Billy, and found two or three others that had been hauled over. It seems they've stumbled on a pipeline half-built under the Detroit River near Wyandotte, and there's been a good deal of excitement. There's capital behind it, you see, and a little capital does wonders with those revenue men. Stensenberger was showing symptoms of readiness to return to his desk, but Henry, who rarely grew reminiscent, was now fairly launched. They can't get an effective revenue system because they make it too easy for a man to get rich. It's like the tax commissioners and the aldermen and the legislators. When you put a man where he can rake off his pile month after month without there being any way of checking him up, look out for his morals. And where they're all in it together, no one dares squeal. It's a good deal, like the railway conductors. You remember last year when the Northeastern Road laid off all but two or three of its conductors for stealing fares? Well, it wasn't a month afterward that one of the honest ones came to me and hired the Schmidt to carry a $1,200 grand piano up to Milwaukee where he lives. He had reasons of his own for not wanting to ship by rail. No, sir. It wouldn't be hard for me to have sympathy with an honest thief that goes in and runs his chances of getting shot or knocked on the head. That calls for some nerve. But these fellows that put up a bluff as lawmakers and policemen and revenue officers and then steal right and left deliver me. Well, boys, I guess I'll have to step back. I'm a busy man, you know. Have another before we go? One minute, Captain, said Dick. There's something I want to talk over with you, if you can spare the time. Stensenberger sat down again. Henry, whose outbreak against the evils of society had stirred up, apparently, some pet feeling of bitterness, now sat mootily looking at the table. It's about rogu, Captain. Dick went on. I had to leave him at Manistee. Why? He drinks too much for me. I couldn't depend on him a minute. He bummed around up there and got himself too shaky to be any use to me. Stensenberger, with expressionless face, chewed a cigar. What did you do for a mate? Came down without one. Have you found a man yet? No, haven't tried. I thought you might have someone you could suggest. I don't know. You'll want to be starting up to Spencer's place in a day or so. He chewed a cigar thoughtfully for a moment, then dropped his voice. There's a man right here you might be able to use. Do you know McGlory? No. You do, Henry. Yes, he was my mate for a year. Well, said Dick, any man that suited Henry for a year ought to suit me. You'll find him a good reliable man, responded Henry in an undertone. He has a surly temper, but he knows all about a schooner. Well, if he's anywhere around here now, we could fix it right up. Stensenberger looked around. The woman had slipped out. Maj, he called, Maj, my dear. She entered as quietly as before. Come in, my dear. You know Captain Smiley, don't you? No, she didn't. That's a fact. He's never been in sample rooms. He sets up to be better than the rest of us. But I say, look out for him. And here's his cousin young Captain Smiley, a handsome man on the lakes. Dick blushed at this. Sit down a minute with us. She shook her head and waited for him to come to the point. Where's that man of yours, my dear? Is he anywhere around? What is it you want of him? I want him to know our young man here. I think they're going to like each other. You tell him we want to see him. She hesitated. Then, with a suspicious glance around the group, left the room. In a moment McGlory appeared, a short, heavy-set man with high cheekbones, a low sloping forehead, and a curling black moustache. He nodded distance and burger and Henry and glanced at Dick. Joe, said the lumber merchant, shake hands with Captain Dick Smiley. He's the best sailor between here and Buffalo, and the only trouble with him is he can't get a mate good enough for him. A man's got to know his business to sail with Dick Smiley. Ain't that so, Henry? I guess that's right. And Henry tells me you're the man that can do it. This pleasantry had no visible effect on McGlory. He was looking Dick over. I don't know about that, Captain. I promised Maj I'd give up the lake for good. A Captain here, pursued Stensenberger, is going to start tomorrow or next day for Spencer to take on a load of timber and shingles. His small, brown eyes were fixed intently on the saloon keeper as he talked, and I think we'll have to keep him running up there for a good part of the summer. Queer character that Spencer, he added addressing Dick. He has lived all his life up there in the pines. They say he was a squatter, never paid a cent for his land. But he has been there so many years now. I guess anyone would have trouble getting him out. He has got an idea that his timber's better than anybody else's. He cuts it all with an old-fashioned vertical saw and stamps his mark on every piece. Why would it be any better? I don't know that it is, though he selects it carefully. The main thing is he sells it dirt cheap. Has to, you know, to stand any show against the big companies. He's so far out of the way no boats would take the trouble to run around there if he didn't. Well, McGlory, we've got a good thing to offer you. You can drop in here once a week or so, you know, to see how things are running. Come over to the office with us and we'll settle the terms. Stensenberger was rising as he spoke. Well, I don't know. I couldn't come over for a few minutes, Captain. How soon could you? About a quarter of an hour. All right, we'll be looking for you. Here, give me half a dozen ten cents straights while I'm here. McGlory walked to the door with them and stood for a moment looking after them. When he turned and pushed back through the swinging inner doors he found Maj standing by the bar awaiting him. One hand held behind her, the other clenched at her side, her eyes shooting fire. He paused and looked at her without speaking. So you're going back to the lake?  That was still quiet. He was silent. Well, why don't you answer me? What's all this fuss about, Maj? I haven't gone yet. Don't try to put me off. Have you told them you would go back? I haven't told them a thing. I'm going around in a minute to see the Captain. We'll talk it over then. And you have forgotten what you promised me?  Look here, there ain't no use of getting stagey about this. I ain't told them I'll do it. I don't believe I will do it. Why should you want to, Joe? Aren't you happy here? Aren't you making more money than you ever did on the lake? Why, of course. Then why not stay here? There's only this about it, he replied, leaning against the bar and speaking in an offhand manner. Stensenberger offers me the chance to do both. I could be in here every few days, see you most as much as I do now in a busy season, and make the extra pay clear. Oh, that's why you've been thinking you might do it. Well, that's the only thing about it that... He was wondering what was in her other hand. You see, I can't afford to get the Captain down on me. You can't. I should think he would be the one that couldn't afford. Now see here, Maj. He stepped up to her and would have slipped his arm around her waist, but she eluded him. I guess I'll go over and see what he has to offer, and then I'll come back, and you and me can talk it all over and see if we think. If we think, she burst out, do you take me for a fool, Joe McGlory? Do you think for a minute I don't know why you want to go and why you mean to go? Look at that! She produced a photograph of a pretty foolish young woman and read aloud the inscription on the back. To Joe from Estelle.  I wouldn't get excited about that kidishness if I was you. So you call it kidishness, do you? And at your age? Well, so long, Maj. I'll be back in a few minutes. Joe, wait. Don't go off like that. Tell me that don't mean anything. Tell me you aren't ever going to see her again. Sure, there's nothing in it. And you won't see her? Why, of course I won't see her. She ain't within five hundred miles of here. I don't know where she is. You'll promise me that? You don't need to holler, Maj. I can hear you. Somebody's likely to be coming in any minute. And what are they going to think? He passed out into the back room and she followed him. How soon will you be back, Joe? She saw that he was putting on his heavy jacket. Heavier than was needed to step over to the lumber office. Just a minute, that's all. And you won't promise them anything? Why, sure I won't. I wouldn't agree to anything before you'd had a look at it. He watched her furtively, and she stood motionless, trembling a little, ready at the slightest signal to spring into his arms. But he reached for his hat and went out. She stood there still motionless, until his step sounded on the front walk. Then she ran upstairs and knelt at the window that overlooked the yards. She saw him enter the office. A few moments, and the two men who had been with Stensenberger came out and walked away. A half-hour, and still Joe was in there with the lumber merchant. An hour, and then finally he appeared, glanced back at the saloon, and walked hurriedly around the corner out of sight. And she knew that he had slipped away from her. The photograph was still in her hand, and now she looked at it again, scornfully, bitterly. A man entered the saloon below, and she did not hear him until he felt a whistling a musical tune. At something familiar in the sound a peculiar expression came over her face, and she threw the picture on the floor and hurried down. When she entered the sample room her eyes were reckless. The man was young, with the air of the commercial traveller of the better sort. He was seated at one of the tables, smoking a cigarette. His name was William Beverage, but he passed here by the name of Bedlow. Hello, Maj, he said. What's the matter, all alone here? Yes, Mr. Murphy's downtown. And Mick Glory, where's he? He's out, too. He looked at her admiringly. Indeed, she was younger and prettier for the odd expression of her eyes. Well, I'm in luck. Why, she asked, coming slowly to the opposite side of the table and leaning on the back of a chair. But, engaging at her, he neglected to reply. I drove, Maj, he broke out.   Then she slipped down into the chair and rested her elbows on the table. You're the hardest person to forget I ever knew. I guess you have tried hard enough. No, I couldn't get round lately. I've been too busy. Anyhow, what was the use? If I had thought I stood in a show of seeing you, I would have come or broken something. But there was always Murphy or Mick Glory around. He could not tell her his real object in coming nor in avoiding the two proprietors who had watched him with suspicion from the first. Do you know this is the first real chance you've ever given me to talk to you? How did I know you wanted to? Oh, come, Maj, you know better than that. How could anybody help wanting to? But he looked around. Are we all right here? Are we likely to be disturbed? Why, no, not unless a customer comes in. Isn't there another room out back there where we could have a good talk?  He'd better stay here—was almost a caress. He leaned eagerly over the table and said in a voice as low as hers. When are you going to let me see you? There's no use in my trying to stay away. I couldn't ever do it. I'm sure to keep on coming until you treat me right or send me away, and I don't believe that would stop me. Aren't you a little of an Irishman, Mr. Bedlow? Why? She smiled with all the women's pleasure and conquest. Why haven't you told me any of these things before? How could I? Now, Maj, any minute somebody's likely to come in, I want you to tell me, can you ever get away evenings? Of course I can, if I want to. Tomorrow? Why? There's going to be a dance in the pavilion at St. Paul's Park. Do you ride a wheel? She nodded. It's a first-rate ride over there. There's a moon now, and the roads are fine. Have you ever been there? No. It's out on the North Branch, only about a four-mile run from here. We can start out, say, at five o'clock and take along something to eat. Then, if we don't feel like dancing, we can take a boat and row up the river. She rested her chin on her hands and looked at him with a half smile. Do you really mean all this, Mr. Bedlow? For reply he reached over and took both her hands. Will you go? Don't do that, please. Do you know how old I am? I don't care. What do you say? Please don't. I hear someone. No, it's a wagon. I want you to say yes. You—you know what it would mean if—if— Mr. McGlory? Yes, I know. You're not afraid. Her face hardened for an instant at this, and then, as suddenly softened— No, she said, I'm not afraid of anything. And you'll go? She nodded. Shall I come here? No, you better not. Where shall we meet? Oh, let me see. Over just beyond the station. It's quiet there. All right, and I'll get a lunch put up. No, it's easier for me to do that. I'll bring something. And now go, please. He rose and slipped around the table toward her. Don't! You must go! And so he went, leaving her to gaze after him with a high color. CHAPTER III. AT THE HOUSE ON STILTS Dick and Henry did not go directly back, and it was mid-afternoon when they reached the pier. As they walked down the incline from the road, Dick's eyes strayed toward the house on stilts. The captain lay with nose in the sand, and beside her, evidently just back from a sail, stood Annie with two of the students who came on bright days to rent Captain Fargo's boats. They were having a jolly time. He could hear Annie laughing at some sally from the taller student, and they had no eye for the two sailors on the pier. Once as they walked out, Dick's hand went up to his hat, but he was mistaken, she had not seen him. And so he watched her until the lumberpiles on the broad outer end of the pier shut off the view, and Henry watched him. Dick hardly heard what his cousin said when they parted. He leaped down to the deck of the Mary Ann and plunged mootily into the box of an after-cabin. His men, accepting Pink Harper, who was somewhere up-forward devouring a novel, were on shore, so that there was no one to observe him standing there by the little window-gazing shoreward. Finally, after much chatting and lingering, the two students sauntered away. Annie turned back to make her boat fast, and Dick, in no cheerful frame of mind, came hurrying shoreward. She saw him leap down from pier to sand and gave him a wave of the hand. Then, seeing that he was heading toward her, she turned and awaited him.  Dick did as he was bid without a word, and then, with a look into tone that told her plainly what was to come next, he asked. What are you going to do now? Well, I'll have to see if Mother wants me. I've been sailing ever since dinner. You haven't any time for me, then. Well, of course I have, lots of it. But I can't see you all the while. No, I suppose you can't, not if you go sailing with those boys. Annie's mischievous nature leaped at the chance this speech gave her. They aren't boys, Dick. Mr. Beverage is older than most of the students. He told me all about himself the other day. Oh, he did. Yes, he was brought up on a farm, and he has had to work his way through school. When he first came here, he got off the train with only just three dollars and a half in his pocket, and he didn't have any idea where he was going to get his next dollar. I think it's pretty brave of a man to work as hard as that for an education. Dick could say nothing. Most of his education had come in through his pores. I like Mr. Wilson, too. He is the other one, I suppose. Dick, his eyes fixed on the sand, did not catch the mirthful glance that was shot at him after these words, and her voice, friendly and unconscious, told him nothing. Yes, he is Mr. Beverage's friend. They room together. Well, I hope they enjoy it. Now, Dick, what makes you so cross? When you were such a bear, it wouldn't be any wonder if I didn't want to see you. He gazed for a minute at the rippling blue lake, then broke out. Can you blame me for being cross? Is it my fault? She looked at him with wondering eyes. Why, you don't mean it is my fault, Dick. Do you think it is just right to treat me this way, Annie? What way do you mean, Dick? He bit his lip, then looked straight into her eyes and came out with characteristic directness. I don't like to think I've been making a mistake all this while, Annie. Maybe I have never asked you right out if you would marry me. I'm not a college fellow, and it isn't always easy for me to say things, but I thought you knew what I meant, and I thought that you didn't mind my meaning it. She was beginning to look serious and troubled. But if there is any doubt about it, I say it right now. Will you marry me? It is what I have been working for, what I have been buying the schooner for, and if I had thought for a minute that you weren't going to say yes sooner or later, I should have gone plum to the devil before this. It isn't a laughing matter. It has been the thought of you that has kept me straight, and—and can't you see how it is, Annie? Haven't you anything to say to me? She looked at him. He was so big and brown. His eyes were so clear and blue. Don't let's talk about it now. You're so impatient. Do you really think I've been impatient? She could not answer this. Now listen, Annie. I'm going to sail in the morning, away around to a place called Spencer on Lake Huron, and I could hardly get back inside of ten or twelve days. And if I should go away without a word from you, well, I couldn't. That's all. You don't mean—you don't mean me to say before tomorrow? Yes. That's just what I mean. You haven't anything to do tonight, have you? She shook her head without looking at him. Well, I'll be around after supper, and we'll have a walk, and you can tell me. But her courage was coming back. No, Dick. I can't. But, Annie, you don't mean— Yes, I do. Why can't you stop bothering me and just wait? Maybe then some day? It's no use. I can't. And if you won't tell me tonight surely ten or say eleven days ought to be enough? If I went off tomorrow without even being able to look forward to it— Oh, Annie, you've got to tell me. That's all. Let me see you tonight, and I'll try not to bother you. I'll get back in eleven days if I have to put the schooner on my back and carry her clean across the southern peninsula. She was smiling now. She liked his extravagant moods. And then you'll tell me. He had her hand. He was gazing so eagerly, so breathlessly, that she could hardly resist. You'll tell me then, Annie, and you'll make me the luckiest fellow that ever sailed out of this town. Eleven days from tonight and I'll come, and I'll ask you if it is to be yes or no, and you'll tell me for keeps. You can promise me that much, can't you? And Annie, holding out as long as she could, finally, with the slightest possible inclination of her head, promised. Where will you be this evening? He asked as they parted. I'll wait on the porch, about eight. For the rest of the afternoon Dick sat brooding in his cabin. When a little after six he saw Henry coming down the companion-way, his heart warmed.  What's the matter here? Why don't you light up? Dick, by the way of reply, mumbled a few words and struck a light. Henry looked at him curiously. What is it, Dick? He asked again. There had been few secrets between them. So far as either knew they were the last two members of their family, and their intimacy, though never expressed in words, had a deep foundation. Before the present arrangement of Dick's work, which made it possible for them to meet at least once in the month, they had seen little of each other, but at every small crisis in the course of his struggle upward to the command of a schooner, Dick had been guided by the council in example of the older man. Now he spoke out his mind without hesitation. Sit down, Henry. When I told you about what I have been thinking, about Annie, why did you look at me as you did? How did I look? Don't dodge, Henry. The idea struck you wrong. I could see that, and I want to know why. Well, Henry hesitated. I don't know that I should put it just that way. I confess I was surprised. Haven't you seen it coming? I rather guess the trouble with me was that I have been planning out your future without taking your feelings into account. How do you mean planning my future? Oh, it isn't so definite that I could answer that question offhand. I thought I saw a future for myself, and I thought we might go it together, but I was counting on just you and me without any other interests or impediments. But if I should marry, if you should marry your work will have to take a new direction. Your interest will change completely, and before many years you will begin to think of quitting the lake. It isn't the life for a family man, but then that's the way things go. I have no right to advise against it. Henry smiled with an odd half-bitter expression, and from what I have seen since my eyes were opened I don't believe it would do any good for me to object. You are mistaken there, Henry, the younger man replied quietly. It isn't going well at all. I've been pretty blue today. Well, said Henry, with the same odd expression, I don't know but what I'm sorry for that. That future I was speaking of seems to have faded out lately. In fact, my plans are not going well either, and so you probably couldn't count on me very much anyway. He paused. Pink Harper, who acted as Cook occasionally when the Anne was tied up and the rest of the crew were ashore, could be heard bustling about on deck. After a moment Henry rose and with an impulsive gesture laid his hand on Dick's shoulder. Cheer up, Dick, he said. Don't take it too hard. Try to keep hold of yourself. And look here, my boy. We've always stepped pretty well together, and we mustn't let any new thing come in between us. Supper's ready? Pink called down the companion way. Dick was both puzzled and touched. Touched by Henry's moment of frankness, puzzled by the reasons given for his opposition to the suggested marriage. It was not like his cousin to express positive opinions, least of all with inadequate reasons. Dick had no notion of leaving the lake. He could never do so without leaving most of himself behind. Plainly Henry did not want him married, and Dick wondered why. It was half past seven and night was settling over the lake. Already the pier end was fading, the masts of the two schooners were losing their distinctness against the sky. The ripples had quieted with the dying debris and now murmured on the sand. The early evening stars were peeping out, looking for their mates in the water below. On the steps, sober now, and inclined to dreaming as she looked out into the mystery of things, sat Annie. A shadow fell across the beach, the outline of a broad pair of shoulders, and she held her breath. The shadow lengthened. The man appeared around the corner of the house. Then, as he came rapidly nearer, she was relieved to see that it was beverage. He was in a cheerful frame of mind as he stepped up and sat beside her. It was pleasant that the peculiar nature of his work should make it advisable to cultivate the acquaintance of an attractive young woman, such a very attractive young woman, that he was beginning to think, now and then, of taking her away with him when his work here should be done. What do you say to a row on the lake? he suggested after a little. I mustn't go away, said Annie. I promised I would be here at eight. But it's not eight yet, beverage replied. Let's walk a little way. You can keep the house in sight and see when he comes. Well, doubtfully, not far. They strolled along the beach until Annie turned. This is far enough. I don't know whether I can let your captain come around quite so often, said he, as they sat down on the dry sand in the shelter of a clump of willows. It won't do. He is too good looking. I should like to know what is to become of the rest of us. This amused Annie. They had both been gazing out towards the schooners and he had read her thoughts. He went on, you know, it's not really fair. These sailor fellows always get the best of us. He named his schooner after you, didn't he? Oh, no, I don't believe so. Sailors and soldiers, it's the same the world over. There's no chance for us common fellows when they are about. Tell you what I shall have to do. Join the militia and come around in full uniform. Then maybe you would be looking at me, too. I don't know, but what I could even make you forget him. She had to laugh at this. Maybe you could. I suppose it wouldn't do me any good to try without the uniform, would it? She tossed her head now. So that's what you think of me, that I care for nothing but clothes? Oh, no, it's not the clothes. His red shirt would never do it. But it's the idea of a sailor's life. There is a sort of glitter about it. He seems pluckier somehow than other men. It's the dash and the grand stand play that fetches it. I suppose it wouldn't be a bit of use to tell you that you are too good for him. She made no reply and the conversation halted. Annie gazed pensively out across the water. He watched her and as the moments slipped away his expression began to change. For he was still a young man and the witchery of the night was working within him.  I don't know, but what I'm a little jealous of him. She did not turn or speak. I'm afraid it is so. I would hardly talk like this if I were not. I thought I was about girl-proof. Up to now no one has been able to keep my mind off my work very long at time. But you have been playing the mischief with me this last week or so. It's no use, Annie. I wouldn't give three cents for the man that could look at you and keep his head. And when I think of you throwing yourself away on Smiley just because he's good-looking and a sailor, you mustn't do it, that's all. I have been watching you. Oh, you have? Yes, and I think maybe I see some things about you that you don't see yourself. I wonder if you have thought where a man like Smiley would lead you. She would have protested at this, but he swept on. He can never be anything more than he is. He has no head for business and even if he works hard he can't hope to do more than his own schooner. You see, he's not prepared for anything better. He's sidetracked. And if you were just a pretty girl and nothing more just about the size of these people around you, I don't suppose I should say a word. I should know you would never be happy anywhere else. Why, Annie, do you suppose there's a girl anywhere else on the shore of Lake Michigan, on the whole five lakes, living among fishermen and sailors as you do, that could put on a dress the way you have put that one on, that could wear it the way you're wearing it now? Oh, I know the difference, and I don't like to stand by and let you throw yourself away. You see, Annie, I haven't known you very long, but it has been long enough to make it impossible to forget you. I haven't any more than made my start, but I'm sure I am headed right, and if I could tell you the chance there is ahead of me to do something big, maybe you would understand why I believe I am going to be able to offer you the kind of life you ought to have, the kind you were made for. I don't want to climb up alone. I want someone with me, someone to help me make it. You may think this is sudden, and you would be right. It is sudden. I have felt a little important about my work, I'm afraid, for I really have been doing well. But ever since you just looked at me with those eyes of yours, the whole business has gone upside down. Don't blame me for talking out this way. It's your fault for being what you are. I expect to finish up my work here pretty soon, and then I'll have to go away, and there's no telling where I'll be. Annie was puzzled. Oh, you finish so soon. It is only September now. I have to move on when the work is done, you know. I obey orders. But I thought you were a student, Mr. Beverage. He hesitated. He had said too much. Shagrined, he rose without word. At her, Come, I must go back now, and returned with her to the house. And when they were approaching the steps, he was just angry enough with himself to blunder again. Wait, Annie, I see you don't understand me. But there is one thing you can understand. I want to go away knowing that you aren't going to encourage Smiley any longer. You can promise me that much. I don't want to talk against him, but I can tell you he is not the man for you. He's not even the man you think he is. Some day I will explain it all. Promise me that you won't. But she hurried on resolutely toward the house, and there was nothing to do but follow. Will you take my word for it, Annie, that you'll do best to let him alone?  On the steps sat a gloomy figure, Dick in his Sunday clothes, white shirt and collar, red necktie and all. His elbows rusted on his knees, his chin rusted on his hands, and the darkness of the great black lake was in his soul. He watched the approaching figures without raising his head. He saw a beverage lift his hat and turn away toward the bank. He let Annie come forward alone without speaking to her. She put one foot on the bottom step and nodded up at him. Here I am, Dick. Do you want to sit here or walk? He got up and came slowly down to the sand. So this is the way you treat me, Annie. I'm not late, am I, Dick? It can't be much after eight.  Mr. Beverage came around early and wanted me to walk, and—and I told him I couldn't stay away. She was not quite her usual sprightly self, and the manner of this speech was not convincing. Dick's reply was a subdued sound that indicated anything but satisfaction. I'm mad, Annie. I know I'm mad, and I don't think you can blame me. I—I didn't ask you to come before eight, Dick. Oh, that was it, was it? I suppose you told him to come at seven. Now, Dick, please. But he, not daring to trust his tongue, was angry and helpless before her. After a moment he turned away and stood looking out toward the lights of the schooner. Finally he said in a strange voice, I see I've been a fool. I thought you meant some of the things you've said. I ought to have known better. I ought to have known you were just fooling with me. You were just a flirt. He did not look around. Even if he had, the night would have concealed the color in her cheeks. But he heard her say, I think perhaps you had better go, Dick. He hesitated, then turned. Good night, she said, and ran up the steps. Say, wait, Annie. The door closed behind her and Dick stood alone. He waited, thinking she might come back, but the house was silent. He stepped back and looked up at her little balcony with its fringe of flowers. But it was deserted. No light appeared in the window. At last he turned away and tramped out to the Marianne. The men were aboard, ready for an early start in the morning. The new mate was settling himself in the cabin. To Dick, as he stood on the pier and looked down on the trim little schooner, nothing appeared worthwhile. He leaped down to the deck and thought savagely that he would have made the same leap if the deck had not been there, if there had been fourteen feet of green water and a berth on the scalloped sand below. But there was one good thing. Nothing could rob Dick of his sleep, and in his dreams Annie was always kind. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of the Marianne This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Betsy Bush, November 2009. The Marianne, by Samuel Merwin. Chapter 4 The Circle Mark Early in the morning they were off. Dick Glom and Reckless took the wheel. McGlory went up forward and looked after hoisting the jibs and foresail. The new mate had already succeeded, by an ugly way he had, in antagonizing most of the men. But their spirits ran high in spite of him, as the Marianne slipped away from the pier and headed out into the glory of the sunrise. Hey, Pink, called Larson, give us Billy Brown! And Pink, who needed no urging, roared out promptly the following ballad, with the whole crew shouting the spoken words.  She lived way down in that wicked town, the town called Chicago, spoken. Where's that? The place where the Clark Streets grow. Oh Mary, will you bunk with me?  About sailing down to this wicked town, to tell me you love me so, spoken. Go long, she's given him the wink, I know. Oh, the wind bloweth high, and the wind bloweth strong, and the gross-point reef laid low, oh ho. And Billy Brown went down, down, down, to the bottom of the place below, spoken. Where's Mary? She's married to a man named Joe. You're makin' noise enough up there, growl'd MacGlory. Pink, with the rebellious glance, bent over the rope he was coiling and held his peace. As they started, so they sailed during four days, the captain reckless, the mate hard and uncommunicative, the men cowed, and at mid-morning on the fourth day they arrived at Spencer. The hydrographic office had, at that time, worked wonders in charting these great lakes of ours, but it had given no notice to the little harbor that was tucked snugly away behind False Middle Island, not a hundred miles from Mackinac City on the lake here on side, merely a speck of an island with a nameless dent behind it. But old Spencer, a lank-hatchet-faced Yankee, had found that a small schooner could be worked in if she headed to do west, with the double-sand dunes against the three pines till you get the forked stump ranged with the ruined shanty. Meet this range and hold it till clear of the bar at the north end of the island. Circle round to port, then clear off the bar, hug the inner shore of the island until if a mill can be seen behind the trees, then run up into the harbor. Plenty of water here. This discovery had resulted in such a curious little mill as can be found only in the back corners of the country. A low shed with a flat roof, one side open to the day, within an old-fashioned vertical saw, the hole supplied with power by a rotting, dripping moss-covered sluice-way. All about were blackened pine-stumps, nothing else for a hundred miles, and all through the forest was the sand, drifting like snow over roads and fences, changing the shape of the land in every high wind, blowing into hair and clothes, and adding with the tall, endless, gray-green mullion stalks the final touch of desolation to a hopeless land. Here and there, in the clearings, sand-colored farmers and their sand-colored wives struggled to ring a livelihood from the thankless earth. Other farmers had drifted helplessly away, leaving houses and barns to blacken and rot, and sink beneath the sand-drifts, and leaving two rows of graves under the stumps. Twenty miles down the coast, where a railroad touched, was a feeble little settlement that was known on the maps as Ramsay City. This region had been cut over once, it had been burned over more than once, and yet old Spencer, with his handful of employees and his deliberate little mill, wore a prosperous look on his inscrutable Yankee face. There was no inhabited house within ten miles, but he was apparently contented. McGlory, it seemed, knew the channel, so Dick surrendered the wheel when they were nearing the island, and stood at his elbow watching the landmarks. The mate volunteered no information, but Dick needed a nun. He made out the ranges with the eye of a born sailor. But even he was surprised when the Marianne swung around into the landlocked harbor and glided up to a rude wharf that was piled with lumber. Behind it was the mill. Behind that, at some distance, a comfortable house nearly surrounded by other smaller dwellings. So this is Spencer, eh? observed Dick. This is Spencer, McGlory replied. The owner himself was coming down to meet them, reading over a letter from his friend Stensenberger as he walked. His wife came out of her kitchen and stood on her steps to see the schooner. Two or three men in Woodsman's flannels were lounging about the mill, and these sat up, renewed their quids from a common plug, and stared. How are you? nodded Spencer, pocketing the letter. He caught the line and threw it over a snubbing post. This Mr. Smiley? That's who, said Dick. How are you, Joe? to McGlory. How are you, Mr. Spencer? In a moment they were fast, and Dick had leaped ashore. He caught Spencer's shrewd eye taking him in and laughed. Well, I guess you'll know me next time. Guess I will. There was a puzzled, even disturbed expression on the lumberman's face. I was thinking you didn't look much like your cousin. The stuff's all ready for you there. You'd better put one of your men on to check it up. Will you walk up and take a look around the place? Thanks. Guess I'll stay right here and hustle this stuff aboard. I'd like to put out again after dinner. Spencer drew a plug from a trouser's pocket, offered it to Dick, who at the sight of it shook his head, and helped himself to a mouthful. Then his eyes took in the schooner, his crew, and the sky above them. Wind's getting easterly, he observed. Looks like freshening up. Mean business getting out of here against the wind. No room for beating. You'd better leave your mate to load and have a look at the place. Well, all right. Mcglurry, see to get in that stuff aboard right off, will you? We'll try to get out after dinner some time. When Spencer had shown his guest the mill and the houses of his men, he led the way to his own home and seated his guest in the living room. Here, from a corner covered, he produced a bottle in two glasses. I've got a little something to offer you here, Mr. Smiley," said he, that I think you'll find drinkable. I usually keep some on hand in case anybody comes along. I don't take much myself, but it's sociable to have a round.  Well, say that's the real stuff. Guess there ain't no doubt about that. Where do you get it from? I bought that in Detroit last time I was down. Couldn't say what house it's from. Oh, you get out of here now and then, do you? Not often. Have another? Thanks, don't care if I do. You see, I've got a little schooner of my own, the Estelle, named her after my wife's sister, and now and then I take a run down the shore to Saginaw or Port Huron or somewhere. Do you get much lumber out? Enough for a living. I noticed you had a mark on the end of every big stick. Looks like a groove cut in a circle, most a foot long. Yes, that's my mark. The idea being that people will know your stuff, I suppose. Spencer nodded shortly. I'm getting out the best lumber on the Great Lakes. That's why I mark it. Help yourself to that bottle. There, I'll just set it where you can reach it. Dick would have stopped ordinarily at two glasses. Today he stopped at nothing. Much obliged. I haven't touched anything as strong as this for two years. Swore off? Sort of, but I don't know that I've been any better off for it. There's nothing so good after sailing the best part of a week. You're right, there ain't. And that's the pure article there. Wouldn't hurt a babe in arms. Take another. You haven't been working for a Captain Stensenberger many years, have you? Throughout this conversation Spencer was studying Smiley's face. No, nothing like so long as Henry. How do you get along with him? A Captain? Oh, all right. He's a little too smart for me. But I guess he's square enough. Doing a good business, is he? Couldn't say. I don't know much about his business. Oh, you don't. There was a shade of disappointment in the lumberman's voice as he said this. But Dick, who was reaching for the bottle, failed to observe it. Make Glory been with you long? No, this is his first trip. You don't say. Wasn't he with your cousin a while back? Yes, for a year. Thought I'd seen him on the Schmidt. Is he a good man? Good enough. Let's see. Wasn't he in with Stensenberger once? Couldn't say. Oh, you couldn't. No. Say, I'll have to step down and see how things are going. Here, I'll just have another nip out of that bottle. Nonsense, Captain. Sit down, sit down. I guess Mick Glory is competent to get that load aboard, all right? I ain't hardly begun to get acquainted with you yet. We'll have dinner pretty soon now, and when you've put a little something solid inside you, we'll go down and have a look at things. Don't get bashful about the bottle. There's plenty more where that come from. I don't know, but what I've had all that's good for me. Pshaw! A man to your inches. Here now, here's to you. They drank together, and a little later they drank again. When Mrs. Spencer, a tired, faded-out little body, came to the door and said, Dinner is ready, Ed. Dick's spirits were soaring amazingly, and his voice had risen to a pitch slightly above the normal. Spencer nodded toward his guest and remarked, This is Captain Smiley, Josie. Glad to make your acquaintance, exclaimed Dick boisterously, striding forward to shake her hand. Show the Captain to the dining-room, will you, Josie? Spencer said. I'll step out and call the boys. Mrs. Spencer led the way through the short hall to the dining-room, where a table was spread for Spencer's eight or ten men. McGlory and the crew were to eat on the merry-an. Dick, stepping high, followed her, and found himself being presented to a blond young woman with blue eyes and an agreeable expression. My sister Estelle, Captain Smiley, said Mrs. Spencer. Glad to meet you, said Dick, looking so hard at her as they shook hands that she blushed and dropped her eyes. Mrs. Spencer slipped out to the kitchen after the introduction, leaving them to await the men. You've never been here before? She ventured. Never have. Do you live here? Yes, I've been with Sister for years now. Well, say, this is a pretty lonely place for a girl like you. I'll have to sail around often. I guess you will. Yes, ma'am, you're too pretty for this corner of the woods. Estelle blushed and shook her head. But that's the gospel truth, sure as I'm Dick Smiley, and I can see you're too sensible to get mad at anyone for telling the truth.  Me, flirt? Never. Not on your diamond earrings. Shh! What would Edd think if he was to come in and hear you talking like that? Spencer, in truth, was already on the steps.  In vain the lumbermen rallied him. In vain the men made advances. In vain Estelle, who was waiting on the table, threw him glances from behind Spencer's chair, or let her hand brush his in passing in the potatoes. From a flushed, talkative man, Dick had turned abruptly into a silent moody one, and he ate steadily with his eyes for nothing but his food. The meal was nearly over when Spencer, looking around the table, said, Hello, where's Pete? He's busy, replied one of the men, said he'd be a little late. Well, if he likes his vitals cold, I guess it's his own funeral. There he is now, outside there. At this, Spencer pushed back his chair and went to the window. Hello there, Pete, he called. Ain't you coming to dinner? Yes, be right along. Dick stopped eating at the sound of the last voice, and listened, his fork in the air, for what was coming next. Hearing nothing further, he faced around and watched the door. A moment later, in came Roke, trying to greet the men without looking at his former captain, and sliding into his chair with averted face. Mr. Roke, don't you know Captain Smiley? said Spencer. Yes, yes, I know him. How are you, Captain? How are you, Pete? How'd you get here? Oh, I... Roke was embarrassed. I used to work for Mr. Spencer, and when I left you, he took me back. Dick merely grunted and went on eating. Here, Estelle, called Spencer. Estelle, Captain Smiley, like another piece of pie. Ain't Estelle there, Josie? Mrs. Spencer appeared in the kitchen doorway. No, she ain't here. Why, I just saw her a minute or so ago. She said it was hot in the kitchen, and stepped outside.  Captain Smiley, like some more pie. All right, I'll get it for him. Dick bolted the second helping in the silence that had enveloped him since the meal began. Then he got up, said something about the schooner that nobody quite understood, and left the house. Matters were going slowly at the wharf. A still small pile of timber, and another of shingles waiting to be loaded. So far as Dick could see, Harper seemed to be directing the work. What are you doing here, Pink? He demanded in a tone that made Pink look curiously at him without replying. Loading up. Where's McGlory? I don't know. You don't know? Well, why in... don't you know? I'll tell you, Captain. Oh, you'll tell me will you? Yes, I will. Mr. McGlory was awful particular about the first load of stuff that went aboard, handled most of it himself, and made us work slow, and then he just naturally quit working, and walked off without saying a word. And so I and the boys have been trying to hustle at a board, like you said, without him. Quit working? Who writes he got to quit working? I don't know, Captain. Two of the sailors standing nearby had been watching the Captain during this talk. Now one of them turned away to hide a grin. What are you grinning about there, roared Dick? I wasn't grinning, Captain.   You're a lot of loafers, that's what you are. Hustle now. He lent a strong hand himself, glad to vent in work the explosives that were working in his head, and as he worked he muttered, So we quit working when we're tired, do we? Meanwhile the mate was strolling in the forest a few hundred yards away with a stealth. He was looking closely at her as they walked from under heavy eyebrows. She was flushing a very little and studying the sand at her feet. Who's been giving you that kind of talk about me, he was asking? Why, I don't know as it was anybody a special. You didn't believe it, did you? No, but you see, you told me you were coming right back, and then you didn't, and I didn't know whether I was ever going to see you again or not. I thought...  I thought you probably could have come if you wanted to. You know better than that, Estelle. The only way I could come was on the schooner, and Captain Henry laid me off before the next trip. The minute I had a chance to come up here with this man I grabbed it. What I'd like to know is, who is there up here that wants to tell lies about me? What else have you heard? You won't be mad, Joe, if I tell. Of course not. Here, let's sit down. They found a seat in the hollow of the sand where the undergrowth screened them. You see, Joe, I heard that you were married. He started up. That's a lie. You said you wouldn't get mad. He dropped down again, muttering. I ain't mad at you, Estelle, but don't you see there's someone that's just setting out to spread these lies? It's enough to rile a fellow. Who was it told you? I don't know. It was quite a while back. Maybe it was Josie. But she don't know anything about me. Who could have told her? I don't know.  No, of course not. It's funny, that's all. But so long as you don't believe it, I don't suppose I've got any cause for kicking. Of course I don't believe it. Not now. Before you'd come back, and after all you'd said about... About what, Estelle? About coming up here for me and are going away from here? That's it. He broke in eagerly. That's just it. I couldn't do it then because I didn't have the ready. But now, you see, I've got a little put by, and there ain't nothing to hinder our clearing out of here for good. Isn't there, Joe? Not a thing. Oh, I'm so glad. You don't know. You don't know how sick I get of this place and these men around. I most die with it sometimes. Feel as if I could go away alone if I knew of any place to go. Once I thought a little of just doing it anyhow and maybe finding you in Chicago, you've told me where your place is, you know, up on the north side. Yes, I know. But we can do it now. Now, Joe? Sure. Today? Well, you see, I couldn't hardly do it today. I've got to finish my trip. Oh. Now, wait, Estelle. If I got impatient, I'd lose the trick, don't you see? This man, Dick Smiley, is working for the man that's got to help me. I know a way to make him back me, set me up in my own place in some new town, maybe. I couldn't leave Smiley in the lurch without getting his boss down on me. I've got a hold on him, but he'd never stand for that. This Smiley is a no-good lot, and I've got to stick out this trip with him. But then you'll be back in Chicago. I know. I'm coming up here by train, or say I meet you at Saginaw. You thought you could do that before? I was broke then. Now I've got the stuff, and I know how I can turn a trick on this trip back that'll be worth an easy five hundred to me. That'll take us clear down to Niagara Falls, maybe. Oh, could we go there, Joe? Sure, anywhere you say. But how will I know when to start? Well, let's see. I can't be sure of getting back to Chicago and cleaning things up and coming up to Saginaw inside of seven days. Call it eight. That'll make it. Today's Tuesday, next week Wednesday. What day does Spencer drive down to Ramsey? Thursdays. Then that's our day. You could get him to take you along, couldn't you? Yes. Then you give him the slip and catch the afternoon train to Saginaw. But how could I take my things? He'd be sure to see them. Leave them behind. I'll buy you what you need. Have you got any money? Not very much. He sat up and drew out a handful of bills. Here, say I give you twenty-five. That'll see you through, won't it? Oh, yes, Joe. She was decidedly pretty now. Her weak face was alive with eagerness. Her eyes were dancing, and McGlory, as he looked at her, seemed to feel something approaching a thrill.  Well, Mr. Man, said he, I hope you're passing a pleasant afternoon with your friend. Estelle got to her feet first.  You see, we can't stay very long. Who are you talking to? growled the mate. I'm a-lookin' right at you. It was an awkward moment for McGlory. He felt it was downright necessary to show his superiority, for it is only by such a show that women like Estelle are kept constant. On the other hand, even he understood the danger of openly defying his captain, but the seconds were flying.  You ain't boss here. Well, bye. Dick checked himself with a half-bow toward Estelle. I beg your pardon, my dear. Your friend kinda surprised me. McGlory flashed a suspicious glance at her. None of your jaw now, Smiley. You can do your talking when it's time to sail.    Will you excuse me, my dear? You see, he's got a previous engagement with me, but you couldn't hardly blame him for forgetting with such a lady friend to talk to. Look here, McGlory broke out. You've said enough.  Thanks, I'm going. We're all going. You'll come with us, my dear? Estelle, who was plunged in confusion, said nothing but fell in with him, and McGlory fuming had to follow. The east wind was freshening. The sky was darker.  You aren't going to start now, are you, Canton? Sure we are. It's mean business with an east wind, but still McGlory knows the channel.  I'd take her through hell for fifty cents, just watch my smoke. Spencer said nothing further. The mate was ordered up forward. The lines were cast off, dick took the wheel, and out they went with the reckless daring that made Spencer and Pink Harper smile from different motives.  But before the words were out, the Marianne swung cheerily about and went skimming along the Channel Bank. Soon she rounded the island in safety and disappeared.  Then he gave up the wheel without a word and stumbled down into the cabin. His highest spirits had given place to weariness and depression, and dropping down for a moment on his bunk, he fell asleep. On deck McGlory, with an expression of smoldering anger, stood at the wheel, glancing now with sails, now with the water, now with the receding shore. If his eyes could have penetrated the bluffs in the forest, he could not have been happier. For Estelle, who seemed to be the victim of her emotions today, was listening to some earnest talk from a boastful fellow named Roke.


Lesson 50. I am sustained by the love of God. Here is the answer to every problem that will confront you, today, tomorrow, and throughout time. In this world, you believe you are sustained by everything but God. Your faith is placed in the most trivial and insane symbols. Pills, money, protective clothing, influence, prestige, being light, knowing the right people, and an endless list of forms of nothingness that you endow with magical powers. That's quite a list, David. And we're all familiar with that list and how it torments us and teases us, and it tells us that this is how we can be somebody. I want you to help me with what we discussed before the show about creating and manifesting. I had a friend call the other day and said, Penelope, I don't like the fact that I have to take responsibility for what I'm manifesting. I don't like it. And you just made it so beautifully clear to me. I want you to help my friends with it. Well, it really starts to get simpler and simpler as you go into it, what we learn from the course, and that's such gratitude for an awakened mind because it's like it saves time to learn from the Master's story of the Master's psychology, Jesus, Jesus, and he basically is saying that creation is of God and like God, that God created Christ. So Christ is an idea in the mind of God. And Jesus makes many references to creations with a small fee and says that we have creation. So that Christ has creations as well. It's like, it's an extension. Now, that's all at a pure abstract level, we could say, or I tend to use the word levellessness, because speaking of levels, God and heaven are not involved. What is pure abstraction? And we could say it's eternal, it's changeless, it's infinite. We view some of those words in the previous program, perfection. And so when we talk about making or manifesting, we are speaking at the level of perception. And that is where a lot of error comes in when people will say things like, I'm creating, created this illusion, I created this cancer, I created these circumstances in my life and so forth, and came on me. And basically it's using that word power that comes from the power to create when actually all perceptions are projections of the ego. And so we could say that all things that seem to occur in the world and all of the world in history are projections and our manifestations. So that's all the ego. It gets back to that core thing about people say, the world is so vast. I mean, galaxies and solar systems and black holes and oceans and mountains and so forth. It's like if God didn't create that, then exactly where did it come from? And I say, well, it's just a testimony to how powerful the mind is that to believe in the impossible, to believe in separation, which is what the ego is, that's really what the so-called big bang seems to occur, to try to believe in the impossible or to give power to something that is meaningless. And so we have a vast, fragmented cosmos. It's literally the scattering of stars in many different realms is kind of a symbol of how powerful this mind is that we're talking about. So we're not going to lose track of the fact that God did not create time and space. God did not create this physical universe because it's temporary, it's finite. Even the physicists, the quantum physicists, whether it seems to be expanding or they say it may start contracting, you can see the duality that's involved in all of that. And God is not a God of duality, not a God of pure spirit and oneness. So if we bring it down to the practical level, every time that you attempt to take responsibility for specific circumstances, you know, it's playing right into the hand of the ego and there's a lot of guilt involved in that. And so it's more just an opportunity to call on the miracle and to really say, I want another way of looking at this. Don't have to analyze it, don't have to look back into the past and judge it and figure it out from a linear perspective and just surrender the perspective. Because it doesn't exist. Because it doesn't exist.  Be absolved. Be absolved and all of that. We like to do that. But we do that because we do feel guilty. We feel we've created all kinds of awful things and we haven't. And I think our friends need to hear that. That's very inspiring. While we're teaching ourselves and the key metaphysics of it is that the guilt comes from believing in the belief in separation. The belief that you actually could separate from a loving God would be guilt-inducing. But what the ego tries to do in a sneaky way is to protect the source of the guilt away and outside of the mind. I'm guilty because I didn't pay back the money that I owed. I'm guilty because I said some harsh words. I'm guilty because I haven't lived up to my parents' expectations. You can see that what the ego wants is it wants us to find the source of the guilt in the world. And it says, find the source of the absolution. Do enough penance. Do enough penance. Do your course, Michael, that's just perfect. And it would rather us obsess about the form, hoping that we can find the solution and form. And it's a game because who in this world has not tried to live the perfect life? Perfection is our inheritance, but forgiveness is necessary first. What is forgiveness? Forgiveness is going within the mind and examining the belief systems that we live by. But the level of behavior is just the level of outcomes. Jesus really clarifies that in the text when he says what you do comes from what you think. So all of our behavior and modification, all of our things to become the look younger, to be more beautiful, to be more muscular, to all of our vitamins and pills and things that he was just mentioning, all this effort is an effort to improve the self or to maintain the self at the level of behavior. And what he's saying is that those are just effects. You need to change your thinking. Well, when we first start to do this, we find out it's a lot easier to change our behavior even than it was to change our thinking. That these things are very deeply rooted. And when you start to go into the metaphysics a little deeper, you find that your thoughts come from your underlying assumptions, your beliefs about the nature of the world, of yourself and reality. So that's what my life has been. It's literally a life of questioning. Ten years of college, instead of just accepting what the professors would say, I would notice that the different disciplines were like talking about each other, against each other. There was a lot of debate, there was a lot of arguing, but there wasn't a lot of peace and serenity. So I just thought, well, I'm going to use these years to ask questions, to go deeper. The fickle scientists were looking at a different world than the psychologists. And the psychologists were looking at a different world than the sociologists. And I began to say, what's the truth? Yeah, there's got to be something that's beneath all of these assumptions. Much simpler. If there is such a thing as truth, it has to be extremely simple. And it should be an aha. It should be something like a child coming upon something with wonderment, not something that's very difficult to struggle with. Easy. It should be easy, natural. And it doesn't seem that way. I mean, the years of questioning where the voices of the world are saying, you know, fit in, you know, find your niche, make a life, make an image of yourself, and something to plant your roots in. To continue and follow that smarter voice has been the real, taken the real willingness because the little voice would always say, step back and see the big picture. This isn't about becoming something in the world or attaining something in the world. This is about seeing the big picture. It takes a lot of faith to keep coming inward. When you're going through all the feelings, the upsets, the emotions, they're heavy at times. They're very intense. And instead of trying to distract away with entertainment and drugs and so on and so forth, it takes a lot of willingness to go through the experience and then to trust that there's something beneath it. And that's pretty much what my life has been about. And we don't think there's something beneath it until we do dare jump. And then we find out, we live through it and everything's all right. It's exactly what we were talking about in the first two shows. Why would you go for God or go for something unless you had an experience that lets you know that it was real? And when people talk about pain and suffering and victimization and the things that are on the news and so prevalent, seemingly in this world, it's like when I started to just say, all right Jesus, I'm just going to give my life over to you. I don't know where this is going, but I'm going to go for it. I'm going to plant all my faith in this thing. Miraculous things started to happen. The people I met, the gathering, the intimate talks that we're having to go from town to town place to place and have these kind of experiences as if you've known these people your whole life. It's extraordinary. It's very much different than anything I've ever experienced. And then that started to become my normal, my natural experience. Instead of the old, which was kind of like a glimpse or a peek here or there, when you really start to surrender into it it starts to just expand and touch all aspects of your perception. And that's the excitement. And you show up and you're in the moment and you just surrender. There's nothing to do. There's nothing to do. With all the college planning out talks and this and that, you show up. The times I'm walking to a bookstore or to the pulpit of the church or to a living room or whatever, don't have a clue about what's going to be said. Sometimes not even an idea of a topic. And then the presence of God orchestrates the gathering. That's right. This isn't about persons that are supposed to be no more than others coming. This is about joining together in an intention and letting the voice for God speak among us. And where two are more are gathered, he is there. And it's so much energy going on here today. It's so exciting. And I knew from the week where I was really very lost that I was so looking forward to joining my mind with you and mine, David and sharing and extending and feeling happy and joyous and being very awake. It's just a beautiful experience. And it's just so simple. And it's so fast. You get more intense and more wonderful and Jesus says you can barely keep your feet on the ground. And this is in a wonderful way. It's not induced by drugs or by, you know, I got the promotion and I got the cotton candy. I wanted to know the ego tries to lure us into thinking that our happiness can be found in getting outcomes that we want. But that shows that once those outcomes is deceived. And that's why it's like the hamster running around, the more we chase, the more we run, the more we seem to be entwined and it takes more effort to bring about those little transitory highs and to battle against those lows, so to speak. And what this is is just a surrender that I am sustained by the love of God, that by minding my mind with God I will be intensely happy. And it's that simple. The things that stand in the way of it is the ego's voice which is screeching. The ego no pool to itself, you know, is much to preserve itself. And so, it's still called life with everything that it's got and quite intensely. When we have self-critical thoughts, when we put ourselves down, the ego is like a spider that sits back at the edge of the web and loves it. When we start to have these loving joyful experiences, it goes into action. I mean, it moves forward in the web and it will pull out everything including the kitchen sink to stop us from remembering how happy we're supposed to be all the time because it's natural. And so, the more you go into it though, you see that as they say in Star Trek, resistance is evil. And you might as well just give way to love because love is the will of God. There's nothing to feel guilty about, is there? There is not. Talk to me about that for a moment. There's nothing to feel guilty about. And I say that for myself who works with guilt a lot and my friends and we all want to hear, but why not? The ego wants us to buy the game that there are certain things that there's a justifiable guilt for. It just wants to break guilt up and as it does with everything, duality. There's good guilt and bad guilt. There's just aifiable guilt like, whoa, you should feel guilty about that and, well, you can let that one go. That's in the lesser camp, you know. But you see how that just perpetuates and holds onto that belief in guilt. When we are coming to an awareness that forgiveness, the real world is an awareness that we haven't done anything wrong. That our guilt came from a misperception of believing in the ego. It's kind of like a little child who has been told, don't go and have any cookies. You leave that cookie jar alone and then looks around and reaches in and then seems to get caught as if I've done something terribly wrong. Well, that's how the deceived mind feels, that believes it is separated from God. The ego has said, you've fallen from grace, you've separated from God and you've got a good reason to feel guilty. You've done something terrible. And to think that you can just pull yourself away from God and think that God's just going to sit back and allow that is not reasonable. So the ego is really trying to convince us that guilt is real. What Jesus does is, he even uses the metaphor from the Bible where the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. It's like the tree was there and God said, don't eat that fruit.  But Jesus says in the Course, he says that God could never put you in a position like that. Would a loving father put his child in a position where something terrible could happen? That God would never put his child, his creation, in that position. Wow. When you start to take a look at that, that's even a release of like an ontological guilt, of guilt that I've done something in my mind, very terrible. When you really start to look at how impossible and incredible separation really is.