3

I turned in, and slept several hours very soundly, and then suddenly found myself wide awake.  I got up, and as I did almost every night, went out to look after my cattle.  I found all but one of them, and fetched a compass about the barns and stables, searching until I found her.  As I passed in front of the door I heard moanings and cryings from a bench against the side of the house, and stopped.  It was dawn, and I could see that it was either a small woman or a large child, huddled down on the bench crying terribly, with those peculiar wrenching spasms that come only when you have struggled long, and then quite given up to misery.  I went toward her, then stepped back, then drew closer, trying to decide whether I should go away and leave her, or speak to her; and arguing with myself as to what I could possibly say to her.  She seemed to be trying to choke down her weeping, burying her head in her hands, holding back her sobs, wrestling with herself.  Finally she fell forward on her face upon the bench, her hands spread abroad and hanging down, her face on the hard cold wood—­and all her moanings ceased.  It seemed to me that she had suddenly dropped dead; for I could not hear from her a single sigh or gasp or breath, though I stepped closer and listened—­not a sign of life did she give.  So I put my arm under her and raised her up, only to see that her face was ghastly white, and that she seemed quite dead.  I picked her up, and found that, though she was slight and girlish, she was more woman than child, and carried her over to the well where there was cold water in the trough, from which I sprinkled a few icy drops in her face—­and she gasped and looked at me as if dazed.

“You fainted away,” I said, “and I brought you to.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” she cried.  “I wish you had let me die!”

“What’s the matter, little girl?” I asked, seating her on the bench once more.  “Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh! oh! oh! oh!” she cried, maybe a dozen times—­and nothing more, until finally she burst out:  “She was all I had in the world.  My God, what will become of me!” And she sprang up, and would have run off, I believe, if Buckner Gowdy had not overtaken her, and coaxingly led her back into the house.

* * * * *

We come now into a new state of things in the history of Vandemark Township.

We meet not only the things that made it, but the actors in the play.

Buckner Gowdy, Doctor Bliven, their associates, and others not yet mentioned will be found helping to make or mar the story all through the future; for an Iowa community was like a growing child in this, that its character in maturity was fixed by its beginnings.