Honors Intro to Artificial Intelligence, or AI, is a class where you will learn about this modern technology. It enables computer systems to perform tasks that normally require human intelligence, such as visual perception, speech recognition, and decision making. It's important that powerful systems help people, so we have to also focus on applying ethical frameworks that can ensure AI is created and deployed for the benefit of humanity. We start out in the course by investigating AI systems currently in everyday use in areas such as social media, mapping software, and financial institutions, and consider the emerging areas where AI will be applied in the future. We research topics based on student interest. Then, we dive into important topics in AI, sensors and perception, natural interactions with humans, building representations of the world and performing reasoning on them, machine learning, and coding with AI. Students finish the semester by building an ethical technology using artificial intelligence that can benefit their local community. Much of the class is project-based with hands-on activities. Most of the assignments are unit projects, so you'll get to create and discuss things, not just listen to lectures. Come join Honors Intro to AI. You don't need any special equipment and no previous coding experience is needed to have a successful semester.


CHAPTER XV As David made his way with rapid strides through the rippling wheat, he experienced a series of sensations. For the first time since his wedding day, he was aroused to entirely forget himself and his pain. What did it mean? Marsha frightened. What at? Harry Temple at their house. What did he know of Harry Temple? Nothing beyond the mere fact that Hannah Heath had introduced him and that he was doing business in the town. But why had Mr. Temple visited the house? He could have no possible business with himself, David was sure. Moreover, he now remembered having seen the young man standing near the stable that morning when he took his seat in the coach and knew that he must have heard his remark that he would not return till the late coach that night or possibly not till the next day. He remembered, as he said it, that he had unconsciously studied Mr. Temple's face and noted its weak points. Did the young man then have a purpose in coming to the house during his absence? A great anger rose within him at the thought. There was one strange thing about David's thoughts. For the first time, he looked at himself in the light of Marsha's natural protector, her husband. He suddenly saw a duty from himself to her, aside from the mere feeding and clothing her. He felt a personal responsibility and an actual interest in her. Out of the whole world now, he was the only one she could look to for help. It gave him a feeling of possession that was new and almost seemed pleasant. He forgot entirely the errand that had made him come to search for Marsha in the first place and the two men who were probably at that moment preparing to go to his house according to their invitation. He forgot everything but Marsha and strode into the purpley-blue shadows of the wood and stopped to listen. The hush there seemed intense. There were no echoes lingering of flying feet down that pine-padded pathway of the isle of the woods. It was long since he had had time to wander in the woods and he wondered at their silence. So much whispering above, the sky so far away, the breeze so quiet, the bird-notes so subdued, it seemed almost uncanny. He had not remembered that it was thus in the woods. It struck him in passing that here would be a good place to bring his pain some day when he had time to face it again and wished to be alone with it. He took his hat in his hand and stepped firmly into the vast salinity as if he had entered a great church when the service was going on, on an errand of life and death that gave excuse for profaning the holy silence. He went a few paces and stopped again listening. Was that a long-drawn sighing breath he heard or only the wind sowing through the waving tassels overhead? He summoned his voice to call. It seemed a great effort and sounded weak and feeble under the grandeur of the vaulted green dome. Marsha, he called, and Marsha, realizing as he did so, that it was the first time he had called her by her name or sought after her in any way. He had always said you to her, or child, or spoken of her in company as Mrs. Spafford, a strange and far-off mythical person whose very intangibility had separated her from himself immeasurably. He went further into the forest, called again and yet again, and stood to listen. All was still about him, but in the far distance he heard the faint report of a gun. With a new thought of danger coming to mind, he hurried further into the shadows. The gun sounded again more clearly. He shuddered involuntarily and looked about in all directions, hoping to see the gleam of her gown. It was not likely there were any wild beasts about these parts so near the town, and yet they had been seen occasionally, a stray fox or even a bear, and the sun was certainly very low. He glanced back, and the low line of the horizon gleamed the gold of intensified shining that is the sun's farewell for the night. The gun again, stray shots had been known to kill people wandering in the forest. He was growing nervous as a woman now, and went this way and that, calling, but still no answer came. He began to think he was not near the clump of pines of which Miranda spoke, and went a little to the right, and then turned to look back to where he had entered the wood, and there, almost at his feet, she lay. She slept as soundly as if she had been lying on a couch of velvet, one round wide arm under her cheek. Her face was flushed with weeping, and her lashes still wet. Her tender, sensitive mouth still quivered slightly as she gave a long-drawn breath with a catch in it that seemed like a sob, and all her lovely dark hair floated about her as if it were spread upon a wave that upheld her. She was beautiful indeed as she lay there sleeping, and the man, thus suddenly come upon her, anxious and troubled, and every nerve quivering, stopped, odd with the beauty of her as if she had been some heavenly being suddenly confronting him. He stepped softly to her side, and bending down, observed her, first anxiously to make sure she was alive and safe, then searchingly, as though he would know every detail of the picture there before him because it was his, and he not only had a right but a duty to possess it and to care for it. She might have been a statue or a painting as he looked upon her and noted the lovely curve of her flushed cheek, but when his eyes reached the firm little brown hand and the slender finger on which gleamed the wedding ring that was not really hers, standing pathetic in the tear-wet lashes and the whole sorrowful, beautiful figure touched him with a great tenderness, and he stooped down gently and put his arm about her. Marcia, child, he said in a low, almost crooning voice, as one might wake a baby from its sleep, Marcia, open your eyes, child, and tell me if you are all right. At first she only stirred on easily and slept on, the sleep of utter exhaustion, but he raised her and, sitting down beside her, put her head upon his shoulder, speaking gently. Then Marcia opened her eyes bewildered, and with a start, spraying back and looked at David, as though she would be sure it was he and not that other dreadful man from whom she had fled. Why, child, what's the matter? said David, brushing her hair back from her face. Bewildered still, Marcia scarcely knew him, his voice was so strangely sweet and sympathetic. The tears were coming back, but she could not stop them. She made one effort to control herself and speak, but her lips quivered a moment, and then the floodgates opened again, and she covered her face with her hands and shook with sobs. How could she tell David what a dreadful thing had happened now when he was kinder to her than he had ever thought of being before? He would grow grave and stern when she had told him, and she could not bear that. He would likely blame her, too, and how could she endure more?  By and by the tears subsided, and she could control herself again. She hushed her sobs and drew back a little from the comforting rough coat where she had lain. Indeed, indeed, I could not help it, David! She faltered, trying to smile like a bit of rainbow through the rain. I know you couldn't, child. His answer was wonderfully kind, and his eyes smiled at her as they had never done before. Her heart gave a leap of astonishment and fluttered with gladness over it. It was so good to have David care. She had not known how much she wanted him to speak to her as if he saw her and thought a little about her. And now what was it? Remember I do not know. Tell me quick, for it is growing late and damp, and you will take cold out here in the woods with that thin frock on. You are chilly already. I better go at once," she said reservedly, willing to put off the telling as long as possible for her adventure to avoid it altogether. No, child, he said firmly, drawing her back again beside him. You must rest a minute yet before taking that long walk. You are weary and excited, and besides it will do you good to tell me.  Are you homesick? He scanned her face anxiously. He began to fear with sudden compunction that the sacrifice he had accepted so easily had been too much for the victim, and it suddenly began to be a great comfort to him to have Marcia with him to help him hide his sorrow from the world. He did not know before that he cared. I was frightened, she said with drooping lashes. She was trying to keep her lips and fingers from trembling, for she feared greatly to tell him all. But though the woods were growing dusky, he saw the fluttering little fingers and gathered them firmly in his own. Now, child, he said in that tone that even his aunts obeyed.  Brought to bay, she lifted her beautiful eyes to his face and told him briefly the story, beginning with the night when she had first met Harry Temple. She said as little about music as possible because she feared that the mention of the piano might be painful to David, but she made the whole matter quite plain in a few words so that David could readily fill in between the lines. Scoundrel!  Then quite gently again. Poor child, how frightened you must have been! You did right to run away, but it was a dangerous thing to run out here. Why, he might have followed you. Oh! said Marcia, turning pale. I never thought of that. I only wanted to get away from everybody. It seemed so dreadful. I did not want anybody to know. I did not want you to know.  She covered her face with her hands and shuddered. David thought the tears were coming back again. Child, child, he said gently, you must not talk that way. What would I do if you did that?  It was the first time that anything like a personal talk had passed between them, and Marcia felt a thrill of delight at his words. It was like heavenly comfort to her wounded spirit. She stole a shy look at him under her lashes and wished she dared say something, but no words came. They sat for a moment in silence, each feeling a sort of comforting sense of the other's presence, and each clasping the hand of the other with clinging pressure, yet neither fully aware of the fact. The last rays of the sun which had been lying for a while at their feet upon the pine needles suddenly slipped away unperceived, and behold the world was in gloom, and the place where the two sat was almost utterly dark. David became aware of it first, and with sudden remembrance of his expected guests he started in dismay. Child! said he, but he did not let go of her hand nor forget to put the tenderness in his voice. The sun has gone down, and here have I been forgetting what I came to tell you in the astonishment over what you had to tell me. We must hurry and get back. We have guests tonight for supper, two gentlemen, very distinguished in their lines of work. We have business together, and I must make haste. I doubt not they are at the house already, and what they think of me I cannot tell. Let us hurry as fast as possible.  What a foolish girl I have been, and what a mess I have made. They will perhaps be angry and go away, and I will be to blame. I am afraid you can never forgive me. Don't worry, child, he said pleasantly. It couldn't be helped, you know, and it is in no wise your fault. I am only sorry that these two gentlemen will delay me in the pleasure of hunting up that scoundrel of a temple and suggesting that he leave town by the early morning stage. I should like to give him what Miranda suggested a good wallop in, but perhaps that would be undignified. He laughed as he said it, a hearty laugh with a ring to it like his old self. Marcia felt happy at the sound. How wonderful it would be if he would be like that to her all the time! Her heart swelled with the great thought of it. He helped her to her feet, and taking her hand, let her out to the open field where they could walk faster. As he walked, he told her about Miranda waiting for him behind the current bushes. They laughed together and made the way seem short. It was quite dark now, with the faded moon trembling feebly in the west as though it meant to retire early and wished they would hurry home while she held her light for them. David had drawn Marcia's arm within his, and then noticing that her dress was thin, he pulled off his coat and put it firmly about her, despite her protest that she did not need it. And so, warmed, comforted, and cheered, Marcia's feet hurried back over the path she had taken in such sorrow and fright a few hours before. When they could see the lights of the village twinkling close below them, David began to tell her about the two men who were to be their guests if they were still waiting, and so interesting was his brief story of each that Marcia hardly knew they were at home before David was helping her over their own back fence. Oh, David, there seems to be a light in the kitchen.  What shall I do with my hair? I cannot go in with it this way. How did that light get there? Here, said David, fumbling in his pocket, will this help you? And he brought out the shell comb he had picked up in the garden. By the light of the feeble old moon, David watched her quail the long wavy hair and stood to pass his criticism upon the effect before they should go in. They were just back of the tall sunflowers and talked in whispers. It was also cheery and comrade and merry that Marcia hated to go in and have it over, for she could not feel that the sweet evening hour could last. Then they took hold of hands and swiftly, cautiously, stole up to the kitchen window and looked in. The door still stood open as both had left it that afternoon, and there seemed to be no one in the kitchen. A candle was burning on the high little shelf over the table, and the tea kettle was singing on the crane by the hearth, but the room was without occupant. Cautiously, looking questioningly at one another, they stole into the kitchen, each dreading lest the ants had come by chance and discovered their laps. There was a light in the front part of the house, and they could hear voices. Two men were earnestly discussing politics. They listened longer, but no other presence was revealed. David and pantomime outlined the course of action, and Marcia, understanding perfectly, flew up the back stairs as noiselessly as a mouse to make her toilet after her nap in the woods, while David, with much show and to do of opening and shutting the wide open kitchen door, walked obviously into the kitchen and hurried through to greet his guests, wondering, not suspecting in the least, what good angel had been there to let them in. Good fortune had favored Miranda. The neighbor had stayed longer than usual, perhaps in hopes of an invitation to stay to tea and share in the gingerbread she could smell being taken from the oven by Hannah, who occasionally varied her occupations by a turn at the culinary art. Hannah could make delicious gingerbread. Her grandmother had taught her when she was but a child. Miranda stole into the kitchen when Hannah's back was turned and picked over her berries so fast that when Hannah came into the pantry to set her gingerbread to cool, Miranda had nearly all her berries in the big yellow bowl ready to wash, and Hannah might conjecture if she pleased that Miranda had been some time picking them over. It is not stated just how thoroughly those berries were picked over, but Miranda cared little for that. Her mind was upon other things. The pantry window overlooked the hills and the woods. She could see if David and Marcia were coming back soon. She wanted to watch her play till the close and had no fancy for having the curtain fall in the middle of the most exciting act, the rescue of the princess. But the talk in the sitting-room went on and on. By and by Hannah Heath washed her hands, untied her apron, and taking her sunbond it slipped over to Ann Bertram's for a pattern of her new sleeve. Miranda took the opportunity to be off again. Slowly down behind the currents she ran, and standing on the fence behind the corn she looked off across the wheat, but no sign of anybody yet coming out of the woods was granted her. She stood so a long time. It was growing dusk.  But then David went in that way, and he would have closed it, of course. Still, he went away in a hurry. Maybe it would be as well to go and look. She did not wish to be caught by her grandmother, so she stole along like a cat close to the dark berry bushes, and the gathering dusk hid her well. She thought she could see from the front of the fence whether the door looked as if it were closed. But there were people coming up the street. She would wait till they had passed before she looked over the fence. They were two men coming, slowly, and in earnest conversation upon some deeply interesting theme.  This must be the house I think, said one. He said it was exactly opposite the secedar church. That's the church I believe. I was here once before. There doesn't seem to be a light in the house, said the other, looking up to the windows over the street. Are you sure? Brother Spafford said he was coming directly home to let his wife know of our arrival. A little strange there's no light yet, for it is quite dark now. But I am sure this must be the house. Maybe they are all in the kitchen, and not expecting us quite so soon. Let us try, anyhow, said the other, setting down his carpet bag on the stoop, and lifting the big brass knocker. Miranda stood still debating, but a moment. The situation was made plain to her in an instant. Not for nothing had she stood at Grandma Heath's elbow for years, watching the movements of her neighbors, and interpreting exactly what they meant. Miranda's wits were sharpened for situations of all kinds. Miranda was ready and loyal to those she adored. Without further ado, she hastened to a sheltered spot she knew, and climbed to the picket fence which separated the Heathgarden from the Spafford side yard.  She flung it wide open, saying in a breezy voice, Just wait till I get a light, won't you? The wind blew the candle out. There wasn't a particle of wind about that soft September night, but that made little difference to Miranda. She was part of a play, and she was acting her best. If her impromptu part was a little irregular, it was at least well meant, boldly, and bravely presented. Miranda found a candle on the shelf, and, stooping to the smoldering fire upon the hearth, blew and coaxed it into flame enough to light it. This is Mr. Spafford's home, is it not? questioned the old gentleman, whom Miranda had heard speak first on the sidewalk. Oh, yes indeed, said the girl, glibly.  Here, let me take your hats. Just put your bags right there on the floor. You are, are you Mrs. Spafford? hesitated the courtly old gentleman. Oh, Landy Sakes, no, I ain't her! laughed Miranda, well pleased. Ms. Spafford had just stepped out a bit when her husband come home, and he's gone after her. You see, she didn't expect her husband home until late tonight. But you set down. They'll be home real soon, now. They'd already been here before this. I suppose she'd gone on further and she thought she'd go when she stepped out. It's all right, said the other gentleman. No harm done, I'm sure. I hope we shan't inconvenience Mrs. Spafford any coming so unexpectedly. No, indeedy, said the quick-witted Miranda. You can't catch Ms. Spafford unprepared if you come in the middle of the night. She's all is ready for company. Miranda's eyes shone. She felt she was getting on finally doing the honors. Well, that's very nice. I'm sure it makes one feel at home. I wonder now if she would mind if we were to go right up to our room and wash our hands. I feel so travel-stained. I'd like to be more presentable before we meet her," said the first gentleman, who looked very weary. But Miranda was not dashed. Why, that's all right. Of course you can go right up. Just you sit in the keep-in-room a minute while I run up and be sure the water-pitcher's filled. I ain't quite sure about it. I won't be long. Miranda seated them in the parlor with great gusto and hastened up the back stairs to investigate. She was not at all sure which room would be called the guest-room, and whether the two strangers would have a room apiece or occupy the same to gather. At least it would be safe to show them one till the mistress of the house returned. She peeped into Marcia's room and knew it instinctively before she caught sight of a cameo brooch on the pincushion and a rose- colored ribbon neatly folded lying on the foot of the bed where it had been forgotten. That question settled she thought any other room would do, and chose the large front room across the hall with its high four-poster and the little ball fringe on the valence and canopy. Having lighted the candle which stood in a tall glass candle- stick on the high chest of drawers, she hurried down to bid her guests come up. Then she hastened back into the kitchen and went to work with swift skillful fingers. Her breath came quickly, and her cheeks grew red with the excitement of it all. It was like playing fairy. She would get supper for them and have everything already when the mistress came so that there would be no bad breaks. She raked the fire and filled the tea kettle, swinging it from the crane. Then she searched where she thought such things should be and found a tablecloth and set the table. Her hands trembled as she put out the sprigged china that was kept in the corner covered. Perhaps this was wrong, and she would be blamed for it. But at least it was what she would have done, she thought, if she were mistress of this house and had two nice gentlemen come to stay to tea. It was not often that Grandmother Heath allowed her to handle her sprigged china, to be sure. So Miranda felt the joy and daring of it all the more. Once a delicate cup slipped and rolled over on the table and almost reached the edge. A little more, and it would have rolled off onto the floor and been shivered into a dozen fragments. But Miranda spread her apron in front and caught it fairly as it started and then hugged it in fear and delight for a moment as she might have done a baby that had been in danger. It was a great pleasure to her to set that table. In the first place, she was not doing it to order, but because she wanted to please and surprise someone whom she adored. And in the second place, it was an adventure. Miranda had longed for an adventure all her life, and now she thought it had come to her. When the table was set, it looked very pretty. She slipped into the pantry and searched out the stores. It was not hard to find all that was needed. Cold ham, cheese, pickles, seed cakes, gingerbread, fruit cake, preserves, and jelly, bread, and raised biscuit. Then she went down cellar and found the milk and cream and butter. She had just finished the table and set out the teapot and caddy of tea when she heard the two gentlemen coming down the stairs. They went into the parlor and sat down, remarking that their friend had a pleasant home. And then Miranda heard them plunge into a political discussion again, and she felt that they were safe for a while. She stole out into the dewy dark to see if there were yet signs of the homecomers. A screech owl hooded across the night. She stood a while by the back fence looking out across the dark sea of whispering wheat. By and by she thought she heard subdued voices above the soft swish of the parting wheat, and by the light of the stars she saw them coming. Quick as a wink she slid over the fence into the heath backyard and crouched in her old place behind the current bushes. So she saw them come up together, saw David help Marcia over the fence, and watched them till they had passed up the walk to the light of the kitchen door. Then swiftly she turned and glided to her own home, while knowing the reckoning that would be in store for her for this daring bit of recreation. There was about her, however, an air of triumphant joy as she entered. Where have you been to, Miranda Griscombe? And what on earth have you been up to now? Was the greeting she received as she lifted the latch of the old green kitchen door of her grandmother's house? Marcia knew that the worst was to come now, for her grandmother never mentioned the name of Griscombe unless she meant business. It was a hated name to her because of the man who had broken the heart of her daughter. Grandma Heath always felt that Miranda was an out-and-out Griscombe with not a streak of heath about her. The Griscombes all had red hair, but Miranda lifted her chin high and felt like a princess in disguise. Then hunting hen's eggs down in the grass, she said, taking the first excuse that came into her head. Is it time to get supper? Hen's eggs, this time at night in dark as pitch!  It was a dire punishment, or would have been if Miranda had not had her head full of other things, for the neighbor had been asked to tea, and there would have been much to hear at the table. Besides, it was apparent that her disgrace was to be made public. However, Miranda did not care. She hastened to her little attic window, which looked down, as good fortune would have it, upon the dining-room windows of the Spafford house. With joy, Miranda observed that no one thought to draw down the shades, and she might sit and watch the supper served over the way. The supper she had prepared, and might think how delectable the doughnuts were, and let her mouth water over the current jelly and the quince preserves, and pretend she was a guest, and forget the supper downstairs she was missing. CHAPTER XVI He had made what apology he could for his absence on the arrival of his guests, and wondered in his heart who it could have been that they referred to as the maid, until he suddenly remembered Miranda and inwardly blessed her for her kindness. It was more than he would have expected from any member of the heath household. Miranda's honest face among the current bushes when she had said, You needn't be afraid of me, I'll keep still, came to mind. Miranda had evidently scented out the true state of the case, and filled in the breach, taking care not to divulge a word. He blessed her kindly heart, and resolved to show his gratitude to her in some way. Could poor Miranda, sitting supperless in the dark, have but known his thought, her lonely heart would have fluttered happily. But she did not, and virtue had to bring its own reward in a sense of duty done. There was a spice of adventure to Miranda's monotonous life in what she had done, and she was not altogether sad as she sat and let her imagination revel in what the Spaffords had said and thought when they found the house lighted and supper ready. It was better than playing house down behind the barn when she was a little girl. Marcia was the most astonished when she slipped down from her hurried toilet, and found the table decked out in all the house afforded, fairly groaning under its weight of pickles, preserves, doughnuts, and pie. In fact, everything that Miranda had found, she had put upon that table, and it is safe to say that the result was not quite as it would have been had the preparation of the supper been left to Marcia. She stood before it and looked, and could not keep from laughing softly to herself at the array of little dishes of things. Miranda thought at first that one of the ants must be here in the parlor, probably entertaining the guests, and that the supper was a reproof to her for being away when she should have been at home attending to her duties, but still she was puzzled. It scarcely seemed like the ants to set a table in such a peculiar manner. The best china was set out, it is true, but so many little bits of things were in separate dishes. There was half a mold of currant jelly in a large china plate. There was a fresh mold of quince jelly quivering on a common dish. All over the table, in every available inch, there was something. It would not do to call the guests out to a table like that. What would David say? And yet, if one of the ants had set it and was going to stay to tea, would she be hurt? She tiptoed to the door and listened, but heard no sound save of men's voices. If an ant had been here, she was surely gone now, and would be none the wiser if a few dishes were removed. With swift fingers Marcia weeded out the things and set straight those that were to remain, and then made the tea. She was so quick about it that David scarcely had time to begin to worry because supper was not announced before she stood in the parlor door, shy and sweet, with a brilliant color in her cheeks. As little comrade, David felt her to be, and again it struck him that she was beautiful as he arose to introduce her to the guests. He saw their open admiration as they greeted her, and he found himself wondering what they would have thought of Kate, while rose Kate with her graceful witching ways. A tinge of sadness came into his face, but something suggested to him the thought that Marcia was even more beautiful than Kate, more like a half-blown butt of a thing. He wondered that he had never noticed before how her eyes shone. He gave her a pleasant smile as they passed into the hall, which set the color flaming in her cheeks again. David seemed different somehow, and that lonely, set-apart feeling that she had had ever since she came here to live was gone.  At least that experience did not belong to Kate, never had been hers, and could not have been borrowed from her. Marcia sighed a happy sigh as she took her seat at the table. The talk ran upon Andrew Jackson and some utterances of his in his last message to Congress. The elder of the two gentlemen expressed grave fears that a mistake had been made in policy and that the country would suffer. Governor Clinton was mentioned, and his policy discussed. But all this talk was familiar to Marcia. Her father had been interested in public affairs always, and she had been brought up to listen to discussions deep and long, and to think about such things for herself.  Sometimes, as she read, he would burst forth with a tirade against this or that man or set of men who were in opposition to his own pronounced views, and he would pour out a lengthy reply to little Marcia as she sat patient, waiting for a chance to go on with her reading. As she grew older, she became proud of the distinction of being her father's confidant politically, and she was able to talk on such matters as intelligently and as well, if not better, than most of the men who came to the house. It was a position which no one disputed with her. Kate had been much too full of her own plans, and Madame Schuyler too busy with household affairs to bother with politics and newspapers, so Marcia had always been the one called upon to read when her father's eyes were tired. As a consequence, she was far beyond other girls of her age in knowledge on public affairs. Well she knew what Andrew Jackson thought about the tariff and about the system of canals and about improvements in general. She knew which men in Congress were opposed to and which in favor of certain bills. While through the struggle for improvements in New York State, she had been an eager observer. The minutest detail of the Erie Canal Project had interested her, and she was never without her own little private opinion in the matter, which, however, seldom found voice except in her eager eyes, whose listening lights would have been an inspiration to the most eloquent speaker. Therefore Marcia, as she sat behind her sprigged china tea cups and demerly poured tea, was taking in all that had been said, and she drew her breath quickly in a way that she had when she was deeply excited, as at last the conversation neared the one great subject of interest which to her seemed of most importance in the country at the present day, the project of a railroad run by steam. Nothing was too great for Marcia to believe. Her father had been inclined to be conservative in great improvements. He had favored the Erie Canal, though had feared it would be impossible to carry so great a project through, and Marcia in her girlish mind had rejoiced with a joy that to her was unspeakable when it had been completed, and news had come that many packets were traveling day and night upon the wonderful new waterway. There had been a kind of triumph in her heart to think that men who could study out these big schemes and plan it all had been able against so great odds to carry out their project and prove to all unbelievers that it was not only possible but practicable. Marcia's brain was throbbing with the desire for progress.  Progress had been the keynote of her upbringing, and she was teeming with energy which she had no hope could ever be used to help along that for which she felt her ambitions rising. She wanted to see the world alive and busy, the great cities connected with one another. She longed to have free access to cities, to great libraries, to pictures, to wonderful music. She longed to meet great men and women, the men and women who were making the history of the world, writing, speaking, and doing things that were molding public opinion. Reforms of all sorts were what helped along and made possible her desires. Why did not the people want a steam railroad? Why were they so ready to say it could never succeed, that it would be an impossibility, that the roads could not be made strong enough to bear so great weights and so constant wear and tear? Why did they interpose objections to every suggestion made by inventors and thinking men? Why did even her dear father, who was so far in advance of his times in many ways, why did even he, too, shake his head and say that he feared it would never be in this country, at least not in his day, that it was impracticable? The talk was very interesting to Marcia. She ate bits of her biscuit without knowing, and she left her tea untasted until it was cold. The younger of the two guests was talking. His name was Jervis. Marcia thought she had heard the name somewhere, but had not yet placed him in her mind. Yes, said he, with an eager look on his face, it is coming, it is coming sooner than they think. Oliver Evans said, you know, that good roads were all we could expect one generation to do. The next must make canals, the next must build a railroad which should run by horsepower, and perhaps the next would run a railroad by steam. But we shall not have to wait so long. We shall have steam moving railway carriages before another year. What, said David, you don't mean it.  He leaned forward, his eyes shining and his whole attitude one of deep interest. Marcia watched him and a great pride began to glow within her that she belonged to him. She looked at the other men, their eyes were fixed upon David with heightening pleasure and pride. The older man watched the little tabloa moment and then he explained. The Mohawk and Hudson Company have just made an engagement with Mr. Jervis as chief engineer of their road. He expects to run that road by steam. He finished his fruitcake and preserves the spell of astonishment he had cast upon his host and hostess. David and Marcia turned simultaneously toward Mr. Jervis for a confirmation of the statement. Mr. Jervis smiled in affirmation. But will it not be like all the rest, no funds? Asked David a trifle sadly. It may be years even yet before it is really started. But Mr. Jervis' face was reassuring. The contract is let for the grading. In fact, work has already begun. I expect to begin laying the track by next spring, perhaps sooner. As soon as the track is laid, we shall show them. David's eyes shone and he reached out and grasped the hand of the man who had the will and apparently the means of accomplishing this great thing for the country. It will make a wonderful change in the whole land, said David musingly. He had forgotten to eat. His face was a glow and a sight of his nature which Marcia did not know was uppermost. Marcia saw the man, the thinker, the writer, the former of public opinion, the idealist. Here too, for, David had been to her in the light of her sister's lover, a young man of promise, but that was all. Now she saw something more earnest and at once it was revealed to her what a man he was, a man like her father. David's eyes were suddenly drawn to meet hers. He looked on Marcia and seemed to be sharing his thought with her and smiled a smile of comradeship. He felt all at once that she could and would understand his feelings about this great new enterprise and would be glad too. It pleased him to feel this. It took a little of his loneliness away. Kate would never have been interested in these things. He had never expected such sympathy from her. She had been something beautiful and apart from his world and as such he had adored her. But it was pleasant to have someone who could understand and feel as he did. Just then he was not thinking of his lost Kate. So he smiled and Marcia felt the glow of warmth from his look and returned it. And the two visitors knew that they were among friends who understood and sympathized. Yes, it will make a change, said the older man. I hope I may live to see at least a part of it. If you succeed, there will be many others to follow. The land will soon be a network of railroads, went on David, still musing. We shall succeed, said Mr. Jervis, closing his lips firmly in a way that made one sure he knew whereof he spoke. And now tell me about it, said David, with his most engaging smile, as a child will ask to have a story. David could be most fascinating when he felt he was in a sympathetic company. At other times he was want to be grave, almost to severity. But those who knew him best and had seen him thus melted into childlike enthusiasm felt his lovableness as the others never dreamed. The tabletock launched into a description of the proposed road, the roadbed, the manner of laying the rails, their thickness and width, and the way of bolting them down to the heavy timbers that lay underneath. It was all intensely fascinating to Marcia. Mr. Jervis took knives and forks to illustrate and then showed by plates and spoons how they were fastened down. David asked a question now and then, took out his notebook and wrote down some things. The two guests were eager and plain in their answers. They wanted David to write it up. They wanted the information to be accurate and full. The other day I saw a question in a Baltimore paper sent in by a subscriber, what is a railroad? Said the old gentleman. And the editor's reply was, can any of our readers answer this question and tell us what is a railroad? There was a hearty laugh over the unenlightened unbelievers who seemed to be only too willing to remain an ignorance of the march of improvement. David finally laid down his notebook feeling that he had gained all the information he needed at present. I have much faith in you and your skill, but I do not quite see how you are going to overcome all the obstacles. How, for instance, are you going to overcome the inequalities in the road? Our country is not a flat even one, like those abroad where the railroad has been tried. There are sharp grades and many curves will be necessary, said he. Mr. Dervis had shoved his chair back from the table, but now he drew it up again sharply and began to move the dishes back from his place, a look of eagerness gleaming in his face. Once again, the dishes and cups were brought into requisition as the engineer showed a crude model in China in cutlery of an engine he proposed to have constructed, illustrating his own idea about a truck for the forward wheels, which should move separately from the back wheels and enable the engine to conform to curves more readily. Marsha sat with glowing cheeks, watching the outline of history that was to be, not knowing that the little model before her, made from her own tea cups and saucers, was to be the model for all the coming engines of the many railroads of the future. Finally, the chairs were pushed back and yet the talk went on. Marsha slipped silently about conveying the dishes away and still the guests sat talking. She could hear all that they said even when she was in the kitchen washing the china, for she did it very softly and never a clink hid a word. They talked of Governor Clinton again and of his attitude toward the railroad. They spoke of Thurlow Weed and a number of others whose names were familiar to Marsha in the papers she had read to her father. They told how lately on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, Peter Cooper had experimented with a little locomotive and had beaten a gray horse attached to another car. Marsha smiled brightly as she listened and laid the delicate china teapot down with care lest she should lose a word. But ever with her interest in the March of Civilization, there were other thoughts mingling, thoughts of David and how he would be connected with it all. He would write it up and be identified with it. He was brave enough to face any new movement. David's paper was a temperance paper. There were not many temperance papers in those days. David was brave. He had already faced a number of unpleasant circumstances and consequence. He was not afraid of sneers or sarcasms nor of being called a fanatic. He had taken such a stand that even those who were opposed had to respect him. Marsha felt the joy of a great pride in David tonight. She sang a happy little song at the bottom of her heart as she worked. The new railroad was an assured thing and David was her comrade. That was the song and the refrain was David, David, David. Later, after the guests had talked themselves out and taken their candles to their rooms, David with another comrade's smile and a look in his eyes that saw visions of the country's future and for this one night at least promised not to dream of the past, bade her good night. She went up to her white chamber and laid down upon her pillow, whose case was fragrant with lavender blossoms, dreaming with a smile of tomorrow. She thought she was riding in a strange new railroad train with David's arm about her and Harry Temple running along at his very best pace to try to catch them, but he could not. Miranda at her supperless window watched the evening hours and thought many thoughts. She wondered why they stayed in the dining room so late and why they did not go into the parlor and make Marcia play the music box as she called it and why there was a light so long in that back chamber over the kitchen. Could it be they had put one of the guests there? Surely not. Perhaps that was David's study. Perhaps he was writing. Ah, she had guessed her right. David was sitting up to write while the inspiration was upon him. But Miranda slept and ceased to wonder long before David's light was extinguished and when he finally laid down, it was with a body healthily weary and a mind for the time free from any intruding thought of himself and his troubles. He had written a most captivating article that would appear in his paper in a few days and which must convince many doubters that a railroad was at last an established fact among them. There were one or two points which he must ask the skilled engineer in the morning. But as he reviewed what he had written, he felt a sense of deep satisfaction and a true delight in his work. His soul thrilled with the power of his gift. He loved it, exalted in it. It was pleasant to feel that delight in his work once more. He had thought since his marriage that it was gone forever but perhaps by and by it would return to console him and he would be able to do greater things in the world because of his suffering. Just as he dropped to sleep, there came a thought of Marcia pleasantly as one remembers a flower. He felt that there was a comfort about Marcia, a something helpful in her smile. There was more to her than he had supposed. She was not merely a child. How her face had glowed as the men talked of the projected railroad and almost she seemed to understand as they described the proposed engine with its movable tracks. She would be a companion who would be interested in his pursuits. He had hoped to teach Kate to understand his life work and perhaps help him some, but Kate was by nature a butterfly, a bird of gay colors always on the wing. He would not have wanted her to be troubled with deep thoughts. Marcia seemed to enjoy such things. What if he should take pains to teach her, read with her, help cultivate her mind? It would at least be an occupation for leisure hours, something to interest him and keep away the awful pall of sadness. How sweet she had looked as she lay asleep in the woods with the tears on her cheek like the dew drops upon a rose petal. She was a dear little girl and he must take care of her and protect her. That scoundrel temple. What were such men made for? He must settle him to-morrow. And so he fell asleep. End of chapter 16. Chapter 17 of Marcia Schuyler by Grace Livingston Hill. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 17.  He had letters to write, a number of them, that should go out with the afternoon coach to reach the night packet. There were at least three men he ought to go and see at once if he would do his best for his employers. And the office he sat in was by no means in the best of order. But his feet were elevated comfortably on the table and he was deep in the pages of a story of the French court, its loves and hates and intrigues. It was therefore with annoyance that he looked up at the opening of the office door. But the frown changed to apprehension as he saw who was his visitor. He brought the chair legs suddenly to the floor and his own legs followed them swiftly. David Spafford was not a man before whom another would sit with his feet on a table even to transact business. There was a look of startled inquiry on Harry Temple's face. For an instant his self-complacency was shaken. He hesitated wondering what tack to take. Perhaps after all his alarm was unnecessary. Marsha likely had been too frightened to tell of what had occurred. He noticed the broad shoulder, the lean active body, the keen eye and the grave poise of his visitor and thought he would hardly care to fight a duel with that man. It was natural for him to think at once of a duel on account of the French court life from which his mind had just emerged. A flash of wonder passed through his mind whether it would be swords or pistols and then he set himself to face the other man. David Spafford stood for a full minute and looked into the face of the man he had come to shame. He looked at him with a calm eye and brow but with a growing contempt that did not need words to express it. Harry Temple felt the color rise in his cheek and his soul quaked for an instant. Then his habitual conceit arose and he tried to parry with his eye that keen piercing gaze of the other. It must have lasted a full minute though it seemed to Mr. Temple it was five at the least. He made an attempt to offer his visitor a chair but it was not noticed. David Spafford looked his man through and through and knew him for exactly what he was. At last he spoke quietly in a tone that was too courteous to be contemptuous but it humiliated the listener more even than contempt. It would be well for you to leave town at once. That was all. The listener felt that it was a command. His wrath arose hotly and beat itself against the calm exterior of his visitor's gaze in a look that was brazen enough to have faced a whole town of accusers. Harry Temple could look innocent and handsome when he chose. I do not understand you, sir, he said. That is a most extraordinary statement. It would be well for you to leave town at once. This time the command was imperative. Harry's eyes blazed. Why? He asked it with that impertinent tilt to his chin which usually angered his opponent in any argument. Once he could break that steady iron self-control he felt he would have the best of things. He could easily persuade David Spafford that everything was all right if he could get him off his guard and make him angry. An angry man could do little but bluster. You understand very well, David replied. His voice still steady and his gaze not swerving. Indeed, well, this is most extraordinary, said Harry, losing control of himself again. Of what do you accuse me, may I inquire? Of nothing that your own heart does not accuse you, said David, and somehow there was more than human indignation in the gaze now. There was pity, a sense of shame for another soul who could lower himself to do unseemly things. Before that look the blood crept into Harry's cheek again. An uncomfortable sensation entirely new was stealing over him, a sense of sin. No, not that exactly, a sense that he had made a mistake perhaps. He never was very hard upon himself even when the evidence was clear against him. It angered him to feel humiliated. What a fuss to make about a little thing.  He wished he had let the pretty baby alone entirely. She was of no finer stuff than many another who had accepted his advances with pleasure. He stiffened his neck and replied with much haughtiness. My heart accuses me of nothing, sir. I assure you I consider your words an insult. I demand satisfaction for your insulting language, sir. Harry Temple had never fought a duel and had never been present when others fought, but that was the language in which a challenge was usually delivered in the French novels. It is not a matter for discussion. Said David Spafford, utterly ignoring the others' blustering words. I am fully informed as to all that occurred yesterday afternoon and I tell you once more it would be well for you to leave town at once. I have nothing further to say. David turned and walked toward the door and Harry stood ignored, angry, crestfallen and watched him until he reached the door. You had better ask your informant further of her part in the matter, he hissed suddenly and opened sneer on his face and a covert implication of deep meaning.  The man who was withered by the scorn of that glance wished heartily that he had not uttered the false sentence. He felt the smallness of his own soul during the instant of silence in which his visitor stood looking at him. Then David spoke deliberately. I knew you were a knave, said he, but I did not suppose you were also a coward.  You, sir, will leave town this evening. Any business further than you can settle between this and that, I will see properly attended to. I warn you, sir, it will be unwise for you to remain longer than till the evening coach. Perfectly courteous were David's tones, keen command was in his eye and determination in every line of his face. Harry could not recover himself to reply, could not master his frenzy of anger and humiliation to face the righteous look of his accuser. Before he realized it, David was gone. He stood by the window and watched him go down the street with rapid, firm tread and upright bearing. Every line in that erect form spoke of determination. The conviction grew within him that the last words of his visitor were true and that it would be wise for him to leave town. He rebelled at the idea. He did not wish to leave for business matters were in such shape or rather in such chaos that it would be extremely awkward for him to meet his employers and explain his desertion at that time. Moreover, there were still several homes in the town open to him whenever he chose where there were many attractions. It was a lazy, pleasant life he had been leading here, fully trusted and wholly disloyal to the trust, troubled by no uneasy overseers, not even his own conscience, dined and smiled upon with lovely languishing eyes. He did not care to go, even though he had decried the town as dull and monotonous. But on the other hand, things had occurred, not the unfortunate little mistake of yesterday, of course, but others more serious things that he would hardly care to have brought to the light of day, especially through the keen sarcastic columns of David Spafford's paper. He had seen other sinners brought to a bloodless retribution in those columns by dauntless weapons of sarcasm and wit, which in David Spafford's hands could be made to do valiant work. He did not care to be humiliated in that way. He could not brazen it out. He was convinced that the man meant what he said, and from what he knew of his influence, he felt that he would leave no stone unturned till he had made the place too hot to hold him. Only Harry Temple himself knew how easy that would be to do, for no one else knew how many mistakes Harry had made, and he, unfortunately for himself, did not know how many of them were not known by any who could harm him. He stood a long time clinking some sixpences and shillings together in his pocket and scowling down the street after David had disappeared from sight.  He said at last, turning on his heel with a sigh. I might have known she was too goody-goody.  Bah, think of a wife like that with no spirit of her own, a baby, merely a baby. Nevertheless, in his secret heart, he knew he honored Marsha and felt a true shame that she had looked into his tarnished soul. Then he looked round about upon his papers that represented a whole week's hard work and maybe more before they were cleared away and reflected how much easier after all it would be to get up a good excuse and go away, leaving all this to some poor drudge who should be sent here in his place.  He remembered the exciting crisis in which he had left the heroine and down he sat to his story again. At least there was nothing demanding attention this moment. He need not decide what he would do. If he went, there were few preparations to make. He would toss some things into his carpet bag and pretend to have been summoned to see a sick and dying relative, a long lost brother or something. It would be easy to invent one when the time came. Then he would leave directions for the rest of his things to be packed if he did not return and get rid of the trouble of it all. As for the letters, if he was going, what used to bother with them? Let them wait till his successor should come. It mattered little to him whether his employers suffered for his negligence or not so long as he finished his story. Besides, it would not do to let that cad think he had frightened him. He would pretend he was not going at least during his hours of grace. So he picked up his book and went on reading. At noon, he sauntered back to his boarding house as usual for his dinner, having professed an unusually busy morning to those who came into the office on business and made appointments with them for the next day. This had brought him much satisfaction as the morning wore away and he was left free to his book. And so before dinner, he had come to within a very few pages of the end. After a leisurely dinner, he sauntered back to the office again, rejoicing in the fact that circumstances had so arranged themselves that he had passed David Spafford in front of the newspaper office and given him a most elaborate and friendly bow in the presence of four or five bystanders. David's look in return had meant volumes and decided Harry Temple to do as he had been ordered. Not of course, because he had been ordered to do so, but because it would be an easier thing to do. In fact, he made up his mind that he was weary of this part of the country. He went back to his book. About the middle of the afternoon, he finished the last pages. He rose up with alacrity then and began to think what he should do. He glanced around the room, sought out a few papers, took some derogatypes of girls from a drawer of his desk, gave a farewell glance around the dismal little room that had seen so much shirking for the past few months, and then went out and locked the door. He paused at the corner. Which way should he go? He did not care to go back to the office, for his book was done and he scarcely needed to go to his room at his boarding place yet either. For the afternoon was but half over and he wished his departure to appear to be entirely unpremeditated. A daring thought came into his head. He would walk past David's Bafford's house. He would let Marcia see him if possible. He would show them that he was not afraid in the least. He even meditated going in and explaining to Marcia that she had made a great mistake, that he had been merely admiring her and that there was no harm in anything he had said or done yesterday, that he was exceedingly grieved and mortified that she should have mistaken his meaning for an insult and so on and so on. He well knew how to make such honeyed talk when he chose but the audacity of the thing was a trifle too much for even his bold nature. So he satisfied himself by strolling in a leisurely manner by the house. When he was directly opposite to it, he raised his eyes casually and bowed and smiled with his most graceful air. True, he did not see anyone, for Marcia had caught sight of him as she was coming out upon the stoop and had fled into her own room with the door buttoned. She was watching unseen from behind the folds of her curtain but he made the bow as complete as though a whole family had been greeting him from the windows. Marcia, poor child, thought he must see her and she felt frozen to the spot and stared wildly through the little fold of her curtain with trembling hands and weak knees till he was passed. Well pleased at himself, the young man walked on knowing that at least three prominent citizens had seen him bow and smile and that they would be witnesses against anything David might say to the contrary that he was on friendly terms with Mrs. Spafford. Hannah Heath was sitting on the front stoop with her knitting. She often sat there dressed daintily of an afternoon. Her hands were white and looked well against the blue yarn she was knitting. Besides, there was something domestic and sentimental in a stocking. It gave a cozy, homey air to a woman, Hannah considered. So she sat and knitted and smiled at whomsoever passed by luring many in to sit and talk with her so that the stockings never grew rapidly but always kept at about the same stage. If it had been Miranda, grandmother Heath would have made sharp remarks about the length of time it took to finish that blue stocking but as it was Hannah, it was all right. Hannah sat upon the stoop and knitted as Harry Temple came by. Now Hannah was not so great a favorite with Harry as Harry with Hannah. She was of the kind who was conquered too easily and he did not consider it worth his while to waste time upon her simperings usually. But this afternoon was different. He had nowhere to go for a little while and Hannah's appearance on the stoop was opportune and gave him an idea. He would lounge there with her. For chance fortune would favor him again and David Spafford would pass by and see him. There would be one more opportunity to stare insolently at him and defy him before he bent his neck to obey. David had given him the day in which to do what he would and he would make no move until the time was over and the coach he had named departed. But he knew that then he would bring down retribution. In just what form that retribution would come he was not quite certain but he knew it would be severe. So when Hannah smiled upon him, Harry Temple stepped daintily across the mud in the road and came and sat down beside her. He toyed with her knitting, caught one end of her plump white hands, the one on the side away from the street and held it while Hannah pretended not to notice and drooped her long eyelashes in a telling way. Hannah knew how. She had been at it a good many years. So he sat toward five o'clock when David came by and bowed gravely to Hannah but seemed not to see Harry. Harry let his eyes follow the tall figure in an insolent stare. What a dough-faced cat that man is, he said lazily.  Handsome baby, though, isn't she? Hannah pricked up her ears. Her loss of David was too recent not to cause her extreme jealousy of his pretty young wife. Already she fairly hated her. Her upbringing in the atmosphere of grandmother Heath's sarcastic ill-natured gossip had prepared her to be quick to see meaning in any insinuation. She looked at him keenly, archly for a moment, then replied with drooping gaze and coquettish manner, you should not blame anyone for enjoying your company. Hannah stole sly glances to see how he took this but Harry was an old hand and proof against such scrutiny. He only shrugged his shoulder carelessly as though he dropped all blame like a garment that he had no need for. And what's the matter with David? Asked Hannah, watching David as he mounted his own steps and thinking how often she had watched that tall form go down the street and thought of him as destined to belong to her. The mortification that he had chosen someone else was not yet forgotten. It amounted almost to a desire for revenge. Harry lingered longer than he had intended. Hannah begged him to remain to supper but he declined and when she pressed him to do so he looked troubled and said that he was expecting a letter and must hurry back to see if it came in the afternoon coach. He told her that a dear friend, a beloved cousin, was lying very ill and he might be summoned at any moment to his bedside and Hannah said some comforting little things in a caressing voice and hoped he should find the letter saying the cousin was better. Then he hurried away. It was easy at his boarding house to say he had been called away and he rushed up to his room and threw some necessaries into his carpet bag, scattering things around the room and helping out the impression that he was called away in a great hurry. When he was ready he looked at his watch. It was growing late. The evening coach left in half an hour. He knew its route well. It started at the village inn and went down the old churn pike stopping here and there to pick up passengers. There was always a convocation when it started. Perhaps David's baffled would be there and witness his obedience to the command given him. He set his lips and made up his mind to escape that at least. He would cheat his adversary of that satisfaction. It would involve a sacrifice. He would have to go without his supper and he could smell the frying bacon coming up the stairs. But it would help the illusion and he could perhaps get something on the way when the coach stopped to change horses. He rushed downstairs and told his landlady that he must start at once as he must see a man before the coach went and she poor lady had no chance to suggest that he leave her little deposit on the sum of his board which he already owed her. There was perhaps some method in his hurry for that reason also. It always bothered him to pay his bills. He had so many other ways of spending his money. So he hurried away and caught a ride in a farm wagon going toward the crossroads. When it turned off he walked a little way until another wagon came along. Finally crossed several fields at a breathless pace and caught the coach just as it was leaving the crossroads which was the last stopping place anywhere near the village. He climbed up beside the driver still in a breathless condition and detailed to him how he had received word just before the coach started by a messenger who came across country on horseback that his cousin was dying. After he had answered the driver's minutest questions he sat back and reflected upon his course with satisfaction. He was off and he had not been seen nor questioned by a single citizen. And by tomorrow night his story as he had told it to the driver would be fully known and circulated through the place he had just left. The stage driver was one of the best means of advertisement. It was well to give him full particulars. The driver, after he had satisfied his curiosity about the young man by his side and his reasons for leaving town so hastily began to wax eloquent upon the one theme which now occupied his spare moments and his fluent tongue, the subject of a projected railroad. Whether some of the sentiments he uttered were his own or whether he had but borrowed from others they were at least uttered with force and apparent conviction and many a traveler sat and listened as they were retailed and viewed the subject from the standpoint of the loud-mouthed coachmen. A little later Tony Weller called by someone the best beloved of all coachmen uttered much the same sentiments in the following words. I consider that the railroad is unconstitutional and an invader of privileges as to the comfort as an old coachman I may say it there's the comfort of sitting in a harm chair I'll look in at brick walls and heaps of mud never come into a public house never see in a glass of ale never going through a pike never meet in a change of no kind hausses or otherwise but always come into a place venue comes to von et al the weary picture of the last as to the honor and dignity a traveling where can that be without a coachman and what's the rail to such coachman as is sometimes forced to go by it but an outrage and an insult as to the engine a nasty wheezing gasping puffing busting monster always out of breath with a shiny green and gold back like an unpleasant beetle as to the engine as is always a pouring out red-ot coals at night and black smoke in the day the sensibilist thing it does in my opinion is then there's something in the bay it sets up that air frightful scream which seems to say now ears two hundred and forty passengers in the weary greatest extremity a danger and ears their two hundred and forty screams in bond but such sentiments as these troubled harry temple not one wit he cared not whether the present century had a railroad or whether it traveled by foot he would not lift a white finger to help it along or hinder as the talk went on he was considering how and where he might get his supper end of chapter seventeen chapter eighteen of marcia skyler by grace livingston hill the slipper box recording is in the public domain chapter eighteen the weather turned suddenly cold and raw that fall and almost in one day the trees that had been green or yellowing in the sunshine put on their autumn garments of defeat flaunted them for a brief hour and dropped them early in despair the pleasant woods to which marcia had fled in her dismay became a massive finally penciled branches against a wintery sky save for the one group of tall pines that hung out heavy above the rest and seemed to defy even snowy blasts marcia could see those pines from her kitchen window and sometimes as she worked if her heart was heavy she would look out and away to them and think of the day she laid her head down beneath them to sob out her trouble and awoke to find comfort somehow the memory of that little talk that she and david had then grew into vast proportions in her mind and she loved to cherish it there had come letters from home her stepmother had written a stiff not on loving letter full of injunctions to be sure to remember this and not do that and on no account to let any relative or neighbor persuade her out of the ways in which she had been brought up she was attempting to do as many mothers do when they see the faults in the child they have brought up try to bring them up over again at some of the sentences a wild homesickness took possession of her some little homely phrase about one of the servants or the mention of a pet hen or cow could bring the longing tears to her eyes and she would feel that she must throw away this new life and run back to the old one school was begun at home maryanne and handford would be taking the long walk back and forth together twice a day to the old schoolhouse she have envied them their happy carefree life she liked to think of the shy courting that she had often seen between scholars in the upper classes her imagination pleased itself sometimes when she was going to sleep trying to picture out the school goings and homecomings and their sober talk not that she ever looked back to handford weston with regret not she she knew always that he was not for her and perhaps even so early as that in her new life if the choice had been given her whether she would go back to her girlhood again and be as she was before kate had run away or whether she would choose to stay here in the new life with david it is likely she would have chosen to stay there were occasional letters from squire skyler he wrote of politics and sent many messages to his son-in-law which marcia handed over to david at the tea table to read and which always seemed to soften david and bring a sweet sadness into his eyes he loved and respected his father-in-law it was as if he were bound to him by the love of someone who had died marcia thought of that every time she handed david a letter and sat and watched him read it sometimes little harriet or the boys printed out a few words about the family cat or the neighbor's children and marcia laughed and cried over the poor little attempts at letters and longed to have the eager childish faces of the writers to kiss but in all of them there was never a mention of the bright beautiful selfish girl around whom the old home life used to center and who seemed now judging from the home letters to be worse than dead to them all but since the afternoon upon the hill a new and pleasant intercourse had sprung up between david and marcia true which was confined mainly to discussions of the new railroad and possibilities of its success and the construction of engines tracks etc david was constantly writing up the subject for his paper and he fell into the habit of reading his articles allowed to marcia when they were finished she would listen with breathless admiration sometimes combating a point ably with the old vim she had used in her discussion over the newspaper with her father but mainly agreeing with every word he wrote and always eager to understand it down to the minutest detail he always seemed pleased at her praise and wrote on while she put away the tea things with a contented expression as though he had passed a high critic and need not fear any other once he looked up with a quizzical expression and made a jocos remark about our article taking her into a sort of partnership with him in it which set her heart to beating happily until it seemed as if she were really in some part at least growing into his life but after all their companionship was a shy distant one more like that of a brother and sister who had been separated all their lives and were just beginning to get acquainted and ever there was a settled sadness about the lines of david's mouth and eyes they sat around one table now the evenings when they were at home for there were still occasional tea drinkings at their friend's houses and there was one night a week held religiously for a formal supper with the ants which david kindly acquiesced in more for the sake of his aunt clarinda than the others whenever he was not detained by actual business then too there was the weekly prayer meeting held at early candlelight in the dim old shadowed church they always walked down the twilighted streets together and it seemed to marsha there was a sweet solemnity about that walk they never said much to each other on the way david seemed preoccupied with holy thoughts and marsha walked softly beside him as if he had been the minister looking at him proudly and reverently now and then david was often called upon to pray and meeting and marsha loved to listen to his words he seemed to be more intimate with god than the others who were mostly old men and prayed with long rolling solemn sentences that put the whole community down into the dust and ashes before their creator marsha rather enjoyed the hour spent in the soberness of the church with the flickering candlelight making grotesque forms of shadows on the wall and among the tall pews the old minister reminded her of the one she had left at home though he was more learned and scholarly and when he had read the scripture passages he would take his spectacles off and lay them across the great bible where the candlelight played at glances with the steel bows and say let us pray then would come that soft stir and hush as the people took the attitude of prayer marsha sometimes joined in the prayer in her heart uttering shy little petitions that were vague and indefinite and had to do mostly with the days when she was troubled and homesick and felt that david belonged wholly to cate always her clear voice joined in the slow hymns that quavered out now and again lined out to the worshipers marsha and david went out from the meeting down the street to their home with the hush upon them that must have been upon the israelites of old after they had been to the solemn congregation but once david had come in earlier than usual and had caught marsha reading the scottish chiefs and while she started guiltily to be found thus employed he smiled indulgently after supper he said get your book child and sit down i have some writing to do and after it is done i will read to you so after that more and more often it was a book that marsha held in her hands in the long evenings when they sat together instead of some useful employment and so her education progressed thus she read epictetus rasulis the deserted village the vicar of wakefield paradise lost the mysteries of the human heart marshal's life of columbus the spy the pioneers and the last of the mohicans she had been asked to sing in the village choir david saying a sweet high tenor there and marsha's voice was clear and strong as a black birds with the plaintive sweetness of the wood robins hannah heath was in the choir also and jealously watched her every move but of this marsha was unaware until informed of it by maranda with her inherited sweetness of nature she scarcely credited it until one sunday a few weeks after the departure of harry temple hannah leaned forward from her seat among the altos and whispered quite distinctly so that those around could hear it was just before the service i've just had a letter from your friend mr temple i thought you might like to know that his cousin got well and that he has gone back to new york he won't be returning here this year on some accounts he thought it was better not it was all said pointedly with double emphasis upon the your friend and some accounts marsha felt her cheeks glow much to her vexation and tried to control her whisper to seem kindly as she answered indifferently enough oh indeed but you must have made a mistake mr temple is a very slight acquaintance of mine i have met him only a few times and i know nothing about his cousin i was not aware even that he had gone away hannah raised her speaking eyebrows and replied quite loud now for the choir leader had stood up already with his tuning fork in hand and one could hear it faintly twang indeed using marsha's own word and quite coldly i should have thought differently from what harry himself told me and there was that in her tone which deepened the color in marsha's cheeks and caused it to stay there during the entire morning service as she sat puzzling over what hannah could have meant it rankled in her mind during the whole day she longed to ask david about it but could not get up the courage she could not bear to revive the memory of what seemed to be her shame it was at the minister's donation party that hannah planted another thorn in her heart hannah in a green plaid silk with delicate undersleeves of lace and a tiny black velvet jacket she selected a time when lemuel was near and when ant Amelia and ant Hortense who believed that all the young men in town were hovering about david's wife sat one on either side of marsha as if to guard her for their beloved nephew who was discussing politics with mr heath and who never seemed to notice so blind he was in his trust of her so hannah paused and posed before the three ladies and with lemuel smiling just at her elbow began in her affected way i've had another letter from new york from your friend mr temple she said it with the slightest possible glance over her shoulder to get the effect of her words upon the faithful lemuel and he tells me he has met a sister of yours by the way she told him that david used to be very fond of her before she was married i suppose she'll be coming to visit you now she's so near as new york two pairs of suspicious steely eyes flew like stinging insects to gaze upon her one on either side and marsha's heart stood still for just one instant but she felt that here was her trying time and if she would help david and do the work for which she had become his wife she must protect him now from any suspicions or disagreeable tongues by very force of will she controlled the trembling of her lips my sister will not likely visit us this winter i think she replied as coolly as if she had had a letter to that effect that morning and then she deliberately looked at lemuel skinner and asked if he had heard of the offer of prizes of four thousand dollars in cash that the baltimore and ohio railroad had just made for the most approved engine delivered for trial before june 1st 1831 not to exceed three and a half tons in weight and capable of drawing day by day 15 tons inclusive of weight of wagons 15 miles per hour lemuel looked at her blankly and said he had not heard of it he was engaged in thinking over what hannah had said about a letter from harry temple he cared nothing about railroads the second prize is 3500 dollars stated marsha eagerly as though it were of the utmost importance to her are you thinking of trying for one of the prizes sneered hannah piercing her with her eyes and now indeed the ready color flowed into marsha's face her ruse had been detected if i were a man and understood machinery i believe i would what a grand thing it would be to be able to invent a thing like an engine that would be of so much use to the world she answered bravely they are most dangerous machines said antamelia disapprovingly no right-minded christian who wishes to live out his life his creator has given him would ever ride behind one i have heard that boilers always explode they are most unnecessary said antoretents severely as if that settled the question for all time and all railroad corporations but marsha was glad for once of their disapproval and entered most heartily into a discussion of the pros and cons of engines and steam quoting largely from david's last article for the paper on the subject until hannah and lemuel moved slowly away the discussion served to keep the ants from inquiring further that evening about the sister in new york marsha begged them to go with her into the kitchen and see the store of good things that had been brought to the minister's house by his loving parishioners bags of flour and meal pumpkins corn in the ear and nice little pats of butter a great wooden tub of donuts baskets of apples and quinces hounds of sugar and tea barrels of potatoes whole hams a side of pork a quarter of beef hanks of yarn and strings of onions it was a goodly array marsha felt that the minister must be beloved by his people she watched him and his wife as they greeted their people and wished she knew them better and might come and see them sometimes and perhaps eventually feel as much at home with them as with her own dear minister she avoided hannah during the remainder of the evening when the evening was over and she went upstairs to get her reps from the high four poster bedstead she had almost forgotten hannah and her ill-natured crying remarks but hannah had not forgotten her she came forth from behind the bed curtains where she had been searching for a lost glove and remarked that she should think marsha would be lonely this first winter away from home and want her sister with her a while but the presence of hannah always seemed a natural stimulus to the spirit of marsha oh i'm not in the least lonely she laughed merrily i have a great many interesting things to do and i love music and books oh yes i forgot you are very fond of music harry temple told me about it said hannah again there was that disagreeable hint of something more behind her words that aggravated marsha almost beyond control for an instant a cutting reply was upon her lips and her eyes flashed fire then it came to her how futile it would be and she caught the words in time and walked swiftly down the stairs david watching her come down saw the admiring glances of all who stood in the hall below and took her under his protection with a measure of pride in her youth and beauty that he did not himself at all realize all the way home he talked with her about the new theory of railroad construction quite contented in her companionship while she poor child much perturbed in spirit wondered how he would feel if he knew what hannah had said david fell into a deep study with a book in his papers about him after they had reached home marsha went up to her quiet lonely chamber put her face in the pillow and thought and wept and prayed when at last she lay down to rest she did not know anything she could do but just go on living day by day and helping david all she could at most there was nothing to fear for herself save a kind of shame that she had not been the first sister chosen and she found to her surprise that that was growing to be deeper than she had supposed she wished as she fell asleep that her girl dreams might have been left to develop in bloom like other girls and that she might have had a real lover like david in every way yet of course not david because he was kates but a real lover who would meet her as david had done that night when he had thought she was kate and speak to her tenderly one afternoon david being wearied with an unusual round of taxing cares came home to rest and study up some question in his library finding the front door fastened and remembering that he had left his key in his other pocket he came around to the back door and much preoccupied with thought went through the kitchen and nearly to the hall before the unusual sounds of melody penetrated to his ears he stopped for an instant amazed for getting the piano then comprehending he wondered who was playing perhaps some visitor was in the parlor he would listen and find out he was weary and dusty with the soil of the office upon his hands and clothes he did not care to meet a visitor so undercover of the music he slipped into the door of his library across the hall from the parlor and dropped into his great arm chair softly and tenderly stole the music through the open door all about him like the gentle dropping of some tender psalms or comforting chapter in the bible to an aching heart it touched his brow like a soft soothing hand and seemed to know and recognize all the agonies his heart had been passing through and all the weariness his body felt he put his head back and let it float over him and rest him tinkling brooks and gentle zephyrs waving of forest trees and twitterings of birds calm lazy clouds floating by a sweetness in the atmosphere bells far away lowing herds music of the angels high in heaven the soothing strain from each extracted and brought to heal his broken heart it fell like a dew upon his spirit then like a fresh breeze with zest and life born on came a new strain grand and fine and high calling him to better things he did not know it was a strain of hondles music grown immortal but his spirit recognized the higher call commanding him to follow in straight way he felt strengthened to go onward in the course he had been pursuing old troubles seemed to grow less anguish fell away from him he took new lease of life nothing seemed impossible then she played by ear one or two of the old tunes they sang touching the notes tenderly and almost making them speak the words it seemed a benediction suddenly the playing ceased and marsha remembered it was nearly supper time he met her in the doorway with a new look in his eyes a look of high purpose and exultation he smiled upon her and said that was good child i did not know you could do it you must give it to us often then marsha felt a glow of pleasure in his kindliness albeit she felt that the look in his eyes set him apart and above her and made her feel the child she was she hurried out to get the supper between pleasure and a nameless unrest she was glad of this much but she wanted more a something to meet her soul and satisfy end of chapter 18