Nearly all
was gone. His securities were already sold. His lots would not
bring at public sale one-half of the deferred payments yet to be
made on them, and if the company brought suit, as it was
threatening to do, he would be left fathoms deep in debt. The
branch railroad had not come up the river toward Lonesome Cove,
and now he meant to build barges and float his cannel coal down to
the main line, for his sole hope was in the mine in Lonesome Cove.
The means that he could command were meagre, but they would carry
his purpose with June for a year at least and then--who knew?--he
might, through that mine, be on his feet again.
The little town was dark and asleep when he stepped into the cool
night-air and made his way past the old school-house and up
Imboden Hill. He could see--all shining silver in the moonlight--
the still crest of the big beech at the blessed roots of which his
lips had met June's in the first kiss that had passed between
them. On he went through the shadowy aisle that the path made
between other beech-trunks, harnessed by the moonlight with silver
armour and motionless as sentinels on watch till dawn, out past
the amphitheatre of darkness from which the dead trees tossed out
their crooked arms as though voicing silently now his own soul's
torment, and then on to the point of the spur of foot-hills where,
with the mighty mountains encircling him and the world, a
dreamland lighted only by stars, he stripped his soul before the
Maker of it and of him and fought his fight out alone.
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