The City of Fire - Page 85/221

She came hopefully out to the piazza, to Miss Saxon. But just at that

instant Billy's aunt jumped to her feet, her eyes large with

excitement, and pointed toward the open session door, where framed

against the light stood Mark Carter, straight and tall facing the

circle of men, and behind him, out in the dark, with only his swaggy

old sweater shoulder and the visor of his floppy old cap showing around

the door jamb lurked Billy.

"There! There!" Whispered Mrs. Severn, patting her shoulder. "I told

you he'd come back all right. Now, don't you worry about it, and don't

you scold him. Just go home and get him some supper. He'll be likely

very hungry, and then get him to go right to bed. Wait till to-morrow

to settle up. Miss Saxon, it's always better, then we have clearer

judgment and are not nearly so likely to lose our tempers and say the

wrong thing."

The bells had stopped ringing, and Marilyn had closed the organ and

drawn the window shut. The two strangers were trailing slowly across

the lawn, the lady laughing loudly. Miss Saxon eyed them with the kind

of fascination a wild rabbit has for a strange dog, pressed the hand of

the minister's wife with a fervent little squeeze, and scurried away

into the dark street. Marilyn lingered silently on the front steps

after the janitor had locked the door inside and gone back to the

session room.

In the session room Mark Carter, white with the experiences of the

night and day, yet alert, stern, questioning, stood looking from one

man to another, keenly, uncompromisingly. This was a man whom any would

notice in a crowd. Character, physical perfection, strength of will all

combined to make him stand out from other men. And over it all, like a

fire from within there played an overwhelming sadness that had a

transparent kind of refining effect, as if a spirit dwelt there who by

sheer force of will went on in the face of utter hopelessness.

The stillness in the session room was tense as the self appointed jury

faced their victim and tried to look him down; then slowly recognized

something that made them uneasy, and one by one each pair of eyes save

two, were vanquished and turned embarrassedly away, or sought the

pattern of the mossy carpet.

Those two pairs of eyes that were friendly Mark found out at once, and

it was as if he embraced them with his own. His friends--Duncannon and

the minister! He shot a grateful glance at them and faced the others

down, but opened not his lips.