J. London

The sheet-iron stove roared red-hot. The men played a rubber of whist.

Dr. Linday picked up his hand, and without ceasing from sorting called " Come in", to a knock on the door.

" What's the matter with you? " − this last to the stranger who entered.

The newcomer vainly strove to move his ice-covered jaws. That he had been on trial for long hours and days was patent.

" Nothing the matter with me, " he finally announced. " But if they's a doctor in the outfit he's sure needed. They's a man up the Little Peco that's had a ruction with a panther."

" Bad? "

" Shoulder dislocated. Some ribs broke for sure. Right arm broke. An' clawed clean to the bone most all over."

" He's as good as dead, " was Linday's judgement, as he angrily fingered the cards.

" That man ain't going to die. He knows I've come for a doc­tor, an' he'll make out to live until you get there. He won't let himself die. I know him. Besides, his wife's with him, an' she's helping him live till you come. They think an almighty heap of each other.

Three days later the two men staggered up to a cabin that stood beside the roaring Little Peco. Coming in from the bright sunshine to the dark cabin, Linday was no more than aware of two men and a woman. But he was not interested in them. He went directly to the bunk where lay the injured man. The latter was lying on his back, with eyes closed.

" What dressings have you been using? " Linday asked of the woman.

" Corrosive sublimate, regular solution, " came the answer.

He glanced quickly at her, shot an even quicker glance at the face of the injured man, and stood erect. She breathed sharply. Linday turned to the men.

" You clear out − chop wood or something. Clear out."

Linday busied himself with a superficial examination of the patient while the cabin was emptying.

" So? " he said. " So that's your Rex Strang."

She dropped her eyes to the man in the bunk and then in silence returned Linday's gaze.

" Why don't you speak? "

She shrugged her shoulders. " What is the use? You know it is Rex Strang. What are you going to do about..." She inclined her head toward the unconscious man.

" Nothing."

" You mean you will kill him, " she said slowly. " Kill him by doing nothing, for you can save him if you will."

" Take it that way. From time immemorial it has been a not uncommon custom so to dispose of wife-stealers."

" You are unfair, Grant, " she answered gently. " Rex never stole me. It was you who lost me. I went with him with a song on my lips. As well accuse me of stealing him."

" A good way of looking at it, " Linday conceded.

" Do you remember Lake Geneva? "

" I ought to. I was rather absurdly happy."

She nodded, and her eyes were luminous. " There is such a thing as old sake. Won't you, Grant, please just remember back..."

" Now you're taking advantage, " he smiled. " No, thank you. I'm not playing the Good Samaritan."

" Yet, you made this hard journey for an unknown man, " she urged.

His impatience was sharply manifest. " Do you fancy I'd have moved a step had I known he was my wife's lover? "

" Grant, " she cried hastily. " I don't want to lose him. I do love him, Grant. Oh, Grant, please, please."

The injured man's chest rose and fell under the fur robes.

" How much do you love him? " he asked.

Her breast filled and rose, and her eyes shone with a light unashamed and proud. He nodded in token that he was answered.

" I remember reading a story. I want to tell you about it. There was a woman, young and beautiful; a man magnificent, a lover of beauty. This man was a painter. He kissed her and rode away. In ten years she wept the beauty out of her face. Now it happened that the man went blind, and ten years afterwards, led as a child by the hand, he stumbled back to her. He could no longer paint. And she was happy, and glad he could not see her face. Remem­ber, he worshipped beauty. And he continued to believe in her beauty. The memory of it was vivid in him. One day he told her of five great pictures he wished to paint. If only his sight could be restored to paint them, he could be content. And then, no matter how, there came into her hands an elixir. Anointed on his eyes, the sight would surely and fully return. You see her struggle. With sight, he could paint his five pictures. Also, he would leave her. It was impossible that he could abide her ruined face. Five days she struggled. Then she anointed his eyes."

Linday broke off. " The question is, do you love Rex Strang as much as that? "

" And if I do? " she countered.

" You can sacrifice? You can give him up? "

Slow and reluctant was her " Yes."

" And you will come with me? "

" Yes." This time her voice was a whisper. " When he is well − yes."

" You understand. It must be Lake Geneva over again. You will be my wife."

She seemed to shrink and droop, but her head nodded.

He stood up briskly, went to his pack, and began unstrapping.

Noted for his daring and success as a surgeon, through the days that followed Linday exceeded himself in daring and suc­cess. There were days of high temperature and delirium; days when Strang lay unconscious, the sweat of pain on his face. Linday was indefatigable, audacious and fortunate and winning. He was not content to make the man live. He devoted himself to the problem of making him whole and strong again.

" He will be a cripple? " Madge queried.

" He will not merely walk and talk, " Linday told her. " He shall run and leap, swim and fight panthers. And, I warn you, he will fascinate women just as of old. Will you like that? Remember, you will not be with him."

" Go on, go on, " she breathed. " Make him what he was."

Came the day when Strang's bed was carried out of doors into the sunshine. Later, Strang was able to sit up on the edge of the bed, able to walk his first steps.

" Let me tell him now, " she said.

" No, I'm making a complete job of this. I want no setbacks."

Summer came on. Linday never let up on Strang. He studied his walk, his body movements and for the thousandth time made him flex all his muscles. Massage was given him without end. But Linday was not yet satisfied.

July passed, and August neared its end, when he ordered Strang out on trail to get a mouse. Linday kept at his heels, watching him, studying him. At the end of ten miles, he called a halt and threw himself down on the moss.

" Enough! " he cried. " I can't keep up with you."

" You'll go, Strang. For a winter or two you may expect to feel the cold and damp in the old wounds. But that will pass."

" God, doctor, you have performed miracles with me. I don't know how to thank you. I don't even know your name."

" Which doesn't matter. I want one final test, and then I'm done with you. At the head of this creek is a tributary of the Big Windy. Daw tells me that last year you went over and back again, in three days. It's up to you to go there and back in the same time as last year."

" Now, " said Linday to Madge. " You have an hour in which to pack. I'll go and get the canoe ready."

" You have sent him away for three days, and robbed me of my last words to him."

" Leave a letter."

When he returned from the canoe, her outfit was packed, the letter written. He carried her pack down to the bank, and stead­ied the canoe with one hand while he extended the other to help her. He watched her closely, but without a tremor she held out her hand to his and prepared to step on board.

" Wait, " he said. " One moment. You remember the story I told you of the elixir. I failed to tell you the end. And when she anointed his eyes and was about to depart, it chanced she saw in the mirror that her beauty had been restored to her. And he opened his eyes and cried out with joy at the sight of her beauty, and folded her in his arms."

She waited, tense but controlled, for him to continue, a dawn of wonder faintly beginning to show in her eyes.

" You are very beautiful, Madge." He paused, then added drily: " I fancy Rex Strang's arms won't remain long empty. Good­bye."

" Grant..." she almost whispered, and in her voice was all the speech that needs no words for understanding.

He stepped into the canoe and put out a slender, nervous hand. She folded both her own hands about his, and bent and kissed it.

He jerked it away, thrust the canoe out from the bank, dipped the paddle in the swift rush of the current.

XV.

A. Sum up the problems raised in the above-given texts. Say if you approve of the authors’ approaches to solve them. Give your arguments.

B. Speak about the representation of the concepts “love”, “marriage”, “family”, “children” in the stories. Make your own choice and give reasons.

C. Could you say that a) the authors have much, something or little in common to realize their thoughts and ideas? b) that the authors express their personal voices?

D. Would you say that the characters’ words, deeds and feelings come close together?

Did the authors manage to establish a precise intimacy with the reader?

E. What story do you give your preference to? Why? Substantiate your points of view.