This Other Eden Read Online Free PDF Page A

misery.
     
    Jenny
made an attempt to communicate with the suffering man. She placed the lantern
beside her and knelt down. "Hartlow," she whispered, "you
mustn't do this. Marianne will need your strength tomorrow."
     
    At
the sound of the name his eyes grew wide and rolled upward, leaving two white
ovals as though he were examining something inside his skull. His lips moved.
"Be quick, child," he whispered. "It's late. Time you were
abed."
     
    Jenny
shook her head sadly. "He's gone," she murmured. The men stared,
horrified, down at the man mumbling bedtime instructions to a nonexistent
child. He was speaking aloud now, a firm voice of command. "Marianne, I
want my tea," his face suddenly and mysteriously at peace. Then
incongruously he smiled. "Holy Mother of Mercy." His eyes fluttered
as though a spectacularly dazzling vision had just appeared before him.
     
    Jenny
and the others watched and listened for as long as they could stand it. Drying
her tears roughly with the back of her hand, Jenny ordered one of the women to
fetch the small pillow from off Hartlow's bed. She gently lifted the small head
and slipped the pillow beneath it. Slowly, as though moving in a trance, the
men went about setting the cottage to rights, restoring the chairs and table,
picking up a piece of tinware here, straightening a candlestick there.
     
    Activity
seemed to take their minds off the man lying in the center of the floor,
although once or twice he laughed crazily and sang a little melody, drawing all
eyes fearfully back to him.
     
    They
all seemed to be trying very hard to keep busy, reaching out again and again
for tasks that had been completed. So busy were they in their mock duties that
they failed to hear the footstep on the stoop. Jenny looked up first.
"Ragland!" she gasped and rushed to embrace the old man who stood in
the doorway, taking all in, his boots covered with dust from his rapid descent
down the cliff walk.
     
    "What's
happened here?" he demanded, seeing his friend trussed and mumbling on the
floor.
     
    When
no one seemed inclined to speak, he demanded again, "What happened?"
and rushed to the man lying on the floor.
     
    Jenny
followed after him. "It's no use," she whispered.
     
    As
though to make a liar out of her, Hardow raised up. His eyes opened, focused,
seemed for a moment to respond to Ragland's presence. "Did I show
you," he began with a weak smile, "the embroidery that Marianne
completed yesterday?" He seemed to warm to his subject and again tried to
raise up. Weakly he fell back, but continued to speak. "The image of a
unicorn it is, as elegant as any you would ever want to see, with a garland of
roses wrapped about his horn." The large man pushed his head backward
against the floor, laughing heartily. "Roses wrapped around his horn! Can
you imagine, Ragland?" Now he motioned with his head for Ragland to come
closer as though to share a secret. "Don't make sport of it in front of
her, my friend. She has a man's temper and a woman's wiles." Now he wagged
his head back and forth. "Can you imagine? Roses wrapped around a man's
horn?" Then again spasms of silent laughter seized him. He rolled his head
rapidly from side to side, then finally was still, although his lips moved
continuously, silently forming the words "Marianne, Marianne." Through
it all, Ragland stared, disbelieving. "Dear God," he whispered.
     
    Jenny
tried to soften the realization. "Do you have news, Ragland?" she
implored. "Good news might bring him to his senses."
     
    Ragland
brought the palms of his hands together, his expression that of a man gazing
into a fresh grave. "My God," he whispered again, the full horror
dawning on him. He stepped around the fallen man without a sound. He looked
angrily at Jenny. "Could you not have prevented it?"
     
    And
she in turn displayed a small temper of her own. "Oh, yes," she
snapped. "As soon as I stopped the tide, it was my intention to stem his madness."
     
    Ragland
shook his head as though to