JavaScript The Definitive Guide 5th Edition

David Flanagan download

https://ebookultra.com/download/javascript-the-definitive-
guide-5th-edition-david-flanagan/

Explore and download more ebooks or textbooks

at ebookultra.com
Here are some recommended products for you. Click the link to
download, or explore more at ebookultra.com

JavaScript The Definitive Guide 6th Edition David Flanagan

https://ebookultra.com/download/javascript-the-definitive-guide-6th-
edition-david-flanagan/

HTTP The Definitive Guide 1st Edition David Gourley

https://ebookultra.com/download/http-the-definitive-guide-1st-edition-
david-gourley/

Animal The Definitive Visual Guide 3rd Edition David

Burnie

https://ebookultra.com/download/animal-the-definitive-visual-
guide-3rd-edition-david-burnie/

AppleScript The Definitive Guide 2nd Edition The

Definitive Guide

https://ebookultra.com/download/applescript-the-definitive-guide-2nd-
edition-the-definitive-guide/
DK Smithsonian Animal The Definitive Visual Guide Third
Edition David Burnie

https://ebookultra.com/download/dk-smithsonian-animal-the-definitive-
visual-guide-third-edition-david-burnie/

Asterisk The Definitive Guide Open Source Telephony for

the Enterprise 5th Edition Jim Van Meggelen

https://ebookultra.com/download/asterisk-the-definitive-guide-open-
source-telephony-for-the-enterprise-5th-edition-jim-van-meggelen/

Beginning JavaScript 5th Edition Jeremy Mcpeak

https://ebookultra.com/download/beginning-javascript-5th-edition-
jeremy-mcpeak/

JavaScript Bible 5th ed Edition Danny Goodman

https://ebookultra.com/download/javascript-bible-5th-ed-edition-danny-
goodman/

JavaScript The Missing Manual 1st Edition David Sawyer

Mcfarland

https://ebookultra.com/download/javascript-the-missing-manual-1st-
edition-david-sawyer-mcfarland/
JavaScript The Definitive Guide 5th Edition David
Flanagan Digital Instant Download
Author(s): David Flanagan
ISBN(s): 9780596101992, 0596101996
Edition: 5
File Details: PDF, 5.80 MB
Year: 2006
Language: english
 JavaScript: The Definitive Guide, 5th Edition
By David Flanagan
...............................................
Publisher: O'Reilly
Pub Date: August 2006
Print ISBN-10: 0-596-10199-6
Print ISBN-13: 978-0-59-610199-2
Pages: 1018

Table of Contents | Index

This Fifth Edition is completely revised and expanded to cover JavaScript as it is used in today's Web 2.0
applications. This book is both an example-driven programmer's guide and a keep-on-your-desk
reference, with new chapters that explain everything you need to know to get the most out of
JavaScript, including:

Scripted HTTP and Ajax

XML processing

Client-side graphics using the <canvas> tag

Namespaces in JavaScript--essential when writing complex programs

Classes, closures, persistence, Flash, and JavaScript embedded in Java applications

Part I explains the core JavaScript language in detail. If you are new to JavaScript, it will teach you the
language. If you are already a JavaScript programmer, Part I will sharpen your skills and deepen your
understanding of the language.

Part II explains the scripting environment provided by web browsers, with a focus on DOM scripting with
unobtrusive JavaScript. The broad and deep coverage of client-side JavaScript is illustrated with many
sophisticated examples that demonstrate how to:
 Generate a table of contents for an HTML document

Display DHTML animations

Automate form validation

Draw dynamic pie charts

Make HTML elements draggable

Define keyboard shortcuts for web applications

Create Ajax-enabled tool tips

Use XPath and XSLT on XML documents loaded with Ajax

And much more

Part III is a complete reference for core JavaScript. It documents every class, object, constructor,
method, function, property, and constant defined by JavaScript 1.5 and ECMAScript version 3.

Part IV is a reference for client-side JavaScript, covering legacy web browser APIs, the standard Level 2
DOM API, and emerging standards such as the XMLHttpRequest object and the <canvas> tag.

More than 300,000 JavaScript programmers around the world have made
this their indispensable reference book for building JavaScript applications.

"A must-have reference for expert JavaScript programmers...well-organized and detailed."

-- Brendan Eich, creator of JavaScript
 JavaScript: The Definitive Guide, 5th Edition
By David Flanagan
...............................................
Publisher: O'Reilly
Pub Date: August 2006
Print ISBN-10: 0-596-10199-6
Print ISBN-13: 978-0-59-610199-2
Pages: 1018

Table of Contents | Index

Copyright
Dedication
Preface
Chapter 1. Introduction to JavaScript
Section 1.1. What Is JavaScript?
Section 1.2. Versions of JavaScript
Section 1.3. Client-Side JavaScript
Section 1.4. JavaScript in Other Contexts
Section 1.5. Exploring JavaScript
Part I: Core JavaScript
Chapter 2. Lexical Structure
Section 2.1. Character Set
Section 2.2. Case Sensitivity
Section 2.3. Whitespace and Line Breaks
Section 2.4. Optional Semicolons
Section 2.5. Comments
Section 2.6. Literals
Section 2.7. Identifiers
Section 2.8. Reserved Words
Chapter 3. Datatypes and Values
Section 3.1. Numbers
Section 3.2. Strings
Section 3.3. Boolean Values
Section 3.4. Functions
Section 3.5. Objects
Section 3.6. Arrays
Section 3.7. null
Section 3.8. undefined
Section 3.9. The Date Object
Section 3.10. Regular Expressions
Section 3.11. Error Objects
Section 3.12. Type Conversion Summary
Section 3.13. Primitive Datatype Wrapper Objects
Section 3.14. Object-to-Primitive Conversion
Section 3.15. By Value Versus by Reference
Chapter 4. Variables
Section 4.1. Variable Typing
Section 4.2. Variable Declaration
Section 4.3. Variable Scope
Section 4.4. Primitive Types and Reference Types
Section 4.5. Garbage Collection
Section 4.6. Variables as Properties
Section 4.7. Variable Scope Revisited
Chapter 5. Expressions and Operators
Section 5.1. Expressions
Section 5.2. Operator Overview
Section 5.3. Arithmetic Operators
Section 5.4. Equality Operators
Section 5.5. Relational Operators
Section 5.6. String Operators
Section 5.7. Logical Operators
Section 5.8. Bitwise Operators
Section 5.9. Assignment Operators
Section 5.10. Miscellaneous Operators
Chapter 6. Statements
Section 6.1. Expression Statements
Section 6.2. Compound Statements
Section 6.3. if
Section 6.4. else if
Section 6.5. switch
Section 6.6. while
Section 6.7. do/while
Section 6.8. for
Section 6.9. for/in
Section 6.10. Labels
Section 6.11. break
Section 6.12. continue
Section 6.13. var
Section 6.14. function
Section 6.15. return
Section 6.16. throw
Section 6.17. try/catch/finally
Section 6.18. with
Section 6.19. The Empty Statement
Section 6.20. Summary of JavaScript Statements
Chapter 7. Objects and Arrays
Section 7.1. Creating Objects
Section 7.2. Object Properties
 Section 7.3. Objects as Associative Arrays
Section 7.4. Universal Object Properties and Methods
Section 7.5. Arrays
Section 7.6. Reading and Writing Array Elements
Section 7.7. Array Methods
Section 7.8. Array-Like Objects
Chapter 8. Functions
Section 8.1. Defining and Invoking Functions
Section 8.2. Function Arguments
Section 8.3. Functions as Data
Section 8.4. Functions as Methods
Section 8.5. Constructor Functions
Section 8.6. Function Properties and Methods
Section 8.7. Utility Function Examples
Section 8.8. Function Scope and Closures
Section 8.9. The Function() Constructor
Chapter 9. Classes, Constructors, and Prototypes
Section 9.1. Constructors
Section 9.2. Prototypes and Inheritance
Section 9.3. Simulating Classes in JavaScript
Section 9.4. Common Object Methods
Section 9.5. Superclasses and Subclasses
Section 9.6. Extending Without Inheriting
Section 9.7. Determining Object Type
Section 9.8. Example: A defineClass( ) Utility Method
Chapter 10. Modules and Namespaces
Section 10.1. Creating Modules and Namespaces
Section 10.2. Importing Symbols from Namespaces
Section 10.3. Module Utilities
Chapter 11. Pattern Matching with Regular Expressions
Section 11.1. Defining Regular Expressions
Section 11.2. String Methods for Pattern Matching
Section 11.3. The RegExp Object
Chapter 12. Scripting Java
Section 12.1. Embedding JavaScript
Section 12.2. Scripting Java
Part II: Client-Side JavaScript
Chapter 13. JavaScript in Web Browsers
Section 13.1. The Web Browser Environment
Section 13.2. Embedding Scripts in HTML
Section 13.3. Event Handlers in HTML
Section 13.4. JavaScript in URLs
Section 13.5. Execution of JavaScript Programs
Section 13.6. Client-Side Compatibility
Section 13.7. Accessibility
Section 13.8. JavaScript Security
Section 13.9. Other Web-Related JavaScript Embeddings
Chapter 14. Scripting Browser Windows
Section 14.1. Timers
Section 14.2. Browser Location and History
Section 14.3. Obtaining Window, Screen, and Browser Information
Section 14.4. Opening and Manipulating Windows
Section 14.5. Simple Dialog Boxes
Section 14.6. Scripting the Status Line
Section 14.7. Error Handling
Section 14.8. Multiple Windows and Frames
Section 14.9. Example: A Navigation Bar in a Frame
Chapter 15. Scripting Documents
Section 15.1. Dynamic Document Content
Section 15.2. Document Properties
Section 15.3. Legacy DOM: Document Object Collections
Section 15.4. Overview of the W3C DOM
Section 15.5. Traversing a Document
Section 15.6. Finding Elements in a Document
Section 15.7. Modifying a Document
Section 15.8. Adding Content to a Document
Section 15.9. Example: A Dynamically Created Table of Contents
Section 15.10. Querying Selected Text
Section 15.11. The IE 4 DOM
Chapter 16. Cascading Style Sheets and Dynamic HTML
Section 16.1. Overview of CSS
Section 16.2. CSS for DHTML
Section 16.3. Scripting Inline Styles
Section 16.4. Scripting Computed Styles
Section 16.5. Scripting CSS Classes
Section 16.6. Scripting Stylesheets
Chapter 17. Events and Event Handling
Section 17.1. Basic Event Handling
Section 17.2. Advanced Event Handling with DOM Level 2
Section 17.3. The Internet Explorer Event Model
Section 17.4. Mouse Events
Section 17.5. Key Events
Section 17.6. The onload Event
Section 17.7. Synthetic Events
Chapter 18. Forms and Form Elements
Section 18.1. The Form Object
Section 18.2. Defining Form Elements
Section 18.3. Scripting Form Elements
Section 18.4. Form Verification Example
Chapter 19. Cookies and Client-Side Persistence
Section 19.1. An Overview of Cookies
Section 19.2. Storing Cookies
 Section 19.3. Reading Cookies
Section 19.4. Cookie Example
Section 19.5. Cookie Alternatives
Section 19.6. Persistent Data and Security
Chapter 20. Scripting HTTP
Section 20.1. Using XMLHttpRequest
Section 20.2. XMLHttpRequest Examples and Utilities
Section 20.3. Ajax and Dynamic Scripting
Section 20.4. Scripting HTTP with <script> Tags
Chapter 21. JavaScript and XML
Section 21.1. Obtaining XML Documents
Section 21.2. Manipulating XML with the DOM API
Section 21.3. Transforming XML with XSLT
Section 21.4. Querying XML with XPath
Section 21.5. Serializing XML
Section 21.6. Expanding HTML Templates with XML Data
Section 21.7. XML and Web Services
Section 21.8. E4X: ECMAScript for XML
Chapter 22. Scripted Client-Side Graphics
Section 22.1. Scripting Images
Section 22.2. Graphics with CSS
Section 22.3. SVG: Scalable Vector Graphics
Section 22.4. VML: Vector Markup Language
Section 22.5. Graphics in a <canvas>
Section 22.6. Graphics with Flash
Section 22.7. Graphics with Java
Chapter 23. Scripting Java Applets and Flash Movies
Section 23.1. Scripting Applets
Section 23.2. Scripting the Java Plug-in
Section 23.3. Scripting with Java
Section 23.4. Scripting Flash
Section 23.5. Scripting Flash 8
Part III: Core JavaScript Reference
Chapter 24. Core JavaScript Reference
Section 24.1. Sample Entry: how to read these reference pages
Section 24.2. arguments[ ]: an array of function arguments
Section 24.3. Arguments: arguments and other properties of a function
Section 24.4. Arguments.callee: the function that is currently running
Section 24.5. Arguments.length: the number of arguments passed to a function
Section 24.6. Array: built-in support for arrays
Section 24.7. Array.concat( ): concatenate arrays
Section 24.8. Array.join( ): concatenate array elements to form a string
Section 24.9. Array.length: the size of an array
Section 24.10. Array.pop( ): remove and return the last element of an array
Section 24.11. Array.push( ): append elements to an array
Section 24.12. Array.reverse( ): reverse the elements of an array
Section 24.13. Array.shift( ): shift array elements down
Section 24.14. Array.slice( ): return a portion of an array
Section 24.15. Array.sort( ): sort the elements of an array
Section 24.16. Array.splice( ): insert, remove, or replace array elements
Section 24.17. Array.toLocaleString( ): convert an array to a localized string
Section 24.18. Array.toString( ): convert an array to a string
Section 24.19. Array.unshift( ): insert elements at the beginning of an array
Section 24.20. Boolean: support for boolean values
Section 24.21. Boolean.toString( ): convert a boolean value to a string
Section 24.22. Boolean.valueOf( ): the boolean value of a Boolean object
Section 24.23. Date: manipulate dates and times
Section 24.24. Date.getDate( ): return the day-of-the-month field of a Date
Section 24.25. Date.getDay( ): return the day-of-the-week field of a Date
Section 24.26. Date.getFullYear( ): return the year field of a Date
Section 24.27. Date.getHours( ): return the hours field of a Date
Section 24.28. Date.getMilliseconds( ): return the milliseconds field of a Date
Section 24.29. Date.getMinutes( ): return the minutes field of a Date
Section 24.30. Date.getMonth( ): return the month field of a Date
Section 24.31. Date.getSeconds( ): return the seconds field of a Date
Section 24.32. Date.getTime( ): return a Date in milliseconds
Section 24.33. Date.getTimezoneOffset( ): determine the offset from GMT
Section 24.34. Date.getUTCDate( ): return the day-of-the-month field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.35. Date.getUTCDay( ): return the day-of-the-week field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.36. Date.getUTCFullYear( ): return the year field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.37. Date.getUTCHours( ): return the hours field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.38. Date.getUTCMilliseconds( ): return the milliseconds field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.39. Date.getUTCMinutes( ): return the minutes field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.40. Date.getUTCMonth( ): return the month-of-the-year field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.41. Date.getUTCSeconds( ): return the seconds field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.42. Date.getYear( ): return the year field of a Date
Section 24.43. Date.parse( ): parse a date/time string
Section 24.44. Date.setDate( ): set the day-of-the-month field of a Date
Section 24.45. Date.setFullYear( ): set the year and, optionally, the month and date fields of a Date
Section 24.46. Date.setHours( ): set the hours, minutes, seconds, and milliseconds fields of a Date
Section 24.47. Date.setMilliseconds( ): set the milliseconds field of a Date
Section 24.48. Date.setMinutes( ): set the minutes, seconds, and milliseconds fields of a Date
Section 24.49. Date.setMonth( ): set the month and day fields of a Date
Section 24.50. Date.setSeconds( ): set the seconds and milliseconds fields of a Date
Section 24.51. Date.setTime( ): set a Date in milliseconds
Section 24.52. Date.setUTCDate( ): set the day-of-the-month field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.53. Date.setUTCFullYear( ): set the year, month, and day fields of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.54. Date.setUTCHours( ): set the hours, minutes, seconds, and milliseconds fields of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.55. Date.setUTCMilliseconds( ): set the milliseconds field of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.56. Date.setUTCMinutes( ): set the minutes, seconds, and milliseconds fields of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.57. Date.setUTCMonth( ): set the month and day fields of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.58. Date.setUTCSeconds( ): set the seconds and milliseconds fields of a Date (universal time)
Section 24.59. Date.setYear( ): set the year field of a Date
Section 24.60. Date.toDateString( ): return the date portion of a Date as a string
Section 24.61. Date.toGMTString( ): convert a Date to a universal time string
Section 24.62. Date.toLocaleDateString( ): return the date portion of a Date as a locally formatted string
Section 24.63. Date.toLocaleString( ): convert a Date to a locally formatted string
Section 24.64. Date.toLocaleTimeString( ): return the time portion of a Date as a locally formatted string
Section 24.65. Date.toString( ): convert a Date to a string
Section 24.66. Date.toTimeString( ): return the time portion of a Date as a string
Section 24.67. Date.toUTCString( ): convert a Date to a string (universal time)
Section 24.68. Date.UTC( ): convert a Date specification to milliseconds
Section 24.69. Date.valueOf( ): convert a Date to millisecond representation
Section 24.70. decodeURI( ): unescape characters in a URI
Section 24.71. decodeURIComponent( ): unescape characters in a URI component
Section 24.72. encodeURI( ): escape characters in a URI
Section 24.73. encodeURIComponent( ): escape characters in a URI component
Section 24.74. Error: a generic exception
Section 24.75. Error.message: a human-readable error message
Section 24.76. Error.name: the type of an error
Section 24.77. Error.toString( ): convert an Error object to a string
Section 24.78. escape( ): encode a string
Section 24.79. eval( ): execute JavaScript code from a string
Section 24.80. EvalError: thrown when eval( ) is used improperly
Section 24.81. Function: a JavaScript function
Section 24.82. Function.apply( ): invoke a function as a method of an object
Section 24.83. Function.arguments[]: arguments passed to a function
Section 24.84. Function.call( ): invoke a function as a method of an object
Section 24.85. Function.caller: the function that called this one
Section 24.86. Function.length: the number of declared arguments
Section 24.87. Function.prototype: the prototype for a class of objects
Section 24.88. Function.toString( ): convert a function to a string
Section 24.89. getClass( ): return the JavaClass of a JavaObject
Section 24.90. Global: the global object
Section 24.91. Infinity: a numeric property that represents infinity
Section 24.92. isFinite( ): determine whether a number is finite
Section 24.93. isNaN( ): check for not-a-number
Section 24.94. java: the JavaPackage for the java.* package hierarchy
Section 24.95. JavaArray: JavaScript representation of a Java array
Section 24.96. JavaClass: JavaScript representation of a Java class
Section 24.97. JavaObject: JavaScript representation of a Java object
Section 24.98. JavaPackage: JavaScript representation of a Java package
Section 24.99. JSObject: see JSObject in Part IV
Section 24.100. Math: mathematical functions and constants
Section 24.101. Math.abs( ): compute an absolute value
Section 24.102. Math.acos( ): compute an arccosine
Section 24.103. Math.asin( ): compute an arcsine
Section 24.104. Math.atan( ): compute an arctangent
Section 24.105. Math.atan2( ): compute the angle from the X axis to a point
Section 24.106. Math.ceil( ): round a number up
Section 24.107. Math.cos( ): compute a cosine
Section 24.108. Math.E: the mathematical constant e
Section 24.109. Math.exp( ): compute ex
Section 24.110. Math.floor( ): round a number down
Section 24.111. Math.LN10: the mathematical constant loge2
Section 24.112. Math.LN2: the mathematical constant loge10
Section 24.113. Math.log( ): compute a natural logarithm
Section 24.114. Math.LOG10E: the mathematical constant log2e
Section 24.115. Math.LOG2E: the mathematical constant log10e
Section 24.116. Math.max( ): return the largest argument
Section 24.117. Math.min( ): return the smallest argument
Section 24.118. Math.PI: the mathematical constant p
Section 24.119. Math.pow( ): compute xy
Section 24.120. Math.random( ): return a pseudorandom number
Section 24.121. Math.round( ): round to the nearest integer
Section 24.122. Math.sin( ): compute a sine
Section 24.123. Math.sqrt( ): compute a square root
Section 24.124. Math.SQRT1_2: the mathematical constant 1/
Section 24.125. Math.SQRT2: the mathematical constant
Section 24.126. Math.tan( ): compute a tangent
Section 24.127. NaN: the not-a-number property
Section 24.128. Number: support for numbers
Section 24.129. Number.MAX_VALUE: the maximum numeric value
Section 24.130. Number.MIN_VALUE: the minimum numeric value
Section 24.131. Number.NaN: the special not-a-number value
Section 24.132. Number.NEGATIVE_INFINITY: negative infinity
Section 24.133. Number.POSITIVE_INFINITY: infinity
Section 24.134. Number.toExponential( ): format a number using exponential notation
Section 24.135. Number.toFixed( ): format a number using fixed-point notation
Section 24.136. Number.toLocaleString( ): convert a number to a locally formatted string
Section 24.137. Number.toPrecision( ): format the significant digits of a number
Section 24.138. Number.toString( ): convert a number to a string
Section 24.139. Number.valueOf( ): return the primitive number value
Section 24.140. Object: a superclass that contains features of all JavaScript objects
Section 24.141. Object.constructor: an object's constructor function
Section 24.142. Object.hasOwnProperty( ): check whether a property is inherited
Section 24.143. Object.isPrototypeOf( ): is one object the prototype of another?
Section 24.144. Object.propertyIsEnumerable( ): will property be seen by a for/in loop?
Section 24.145. Object.toLocaleString( ): return an object's localized string representation
Section 24.146. Object.toString( ): define an object's string representation
Section 24.147. Object.valueOf( ): the primitive value of the specified object
Section 24.148. Packages: the root JavaPackage
Section 24.149. parseFloat( ): convert a string to a number
Section 24.150. parseInt( ): convert a string to an integer
 Section 24.151. RangeError: thrown when a number is out of its legal range
Section 24.152. ReferenceError: thrown when reading a variable that does not exist
Section 24.153. RegExp: regular expressions for pattern matching
Section 24.154. RegExp.exec( ): general-purpose pattern matching
Section 24.155. RegExp.global: whether a regular expression matches globally
Section 24.156. RegExp.ignoreCase: whether a regular expression is case-insensitive
Section 24.157. RegExp.lastIndex: the starting position of the next match
Section 24.158. RegExp.source: the text of the regular expression
Section 24.159. RegExp.test( ): test whether a string matches a pattern
Section 24.160. RegExp.toString( ): convert a regular expression to a string
Section 24.161. String: support for strings
Section 24.162. String.charAt( ): get the nth character from a string
Section 24.163. String.charCodeAt( ): get the nth character code from a string
Section 24.164. String.concat( ): concatenate strings
Section 24.165. String.fromCharCode( ): create a string from character encodings
Section 24.166. String.indexOf( ): search a string
Section 24.167. String.lastIndexOf( ): search a string backward
Section 24.168. String.length: the length of a string
Section 24.169. String.localeCompare( ): compare one string to another, using locale-specific ordering
Section 24.170. String.match( ): find one or more regular-expression matches
Section 24.171. String.replace( ): replace substring(s) matching a regular expression
Section 24.172. String.search( ): search for a regular expression
Section 24.173. String.slice( ): extract a substring
Section 24.174. String.split( ): break a string into an array of strings
Section 24.175. String.substr( ): extract a substring
Section 24.176. String.substring( ): return a substring of a string
Section 24.177. String.toLocaleLowerCase( ): convert a string to lowercase
Section 24.178. String.toLocaleUpperCase( ): convert a string to uppercase
Section 24.179. String.toLowerCase( ): convert a string to lowercase
Section 24.180. String.toString( ): return the string
Section 24.181. String.toUpperCase( ): convert a string to uppercase
Section 24.182. String.valueOf( ): return the string
Section 24.183. SyntaxError: thrown to signal a syntax error
Section 24.184. TypeError: thrown when a value is of the wrong type
Section 24.185. undefined: the undefined value
Section 24.186. unescape( ): decode an escaped string
Section 24.187. URIError: thrown by URI encoding and decoding methods
Part IV: Client-Side JavaScript Reference
Chapter 25. Client-Side JavaScript Reference
Section 25.1. Anchor: the target of a hypertext link
Section 25.2. Anchor.focus( ): scroll to make the anchor location visible
Section 25.3. Applet: an applet embedded in a web page
Section 25.4. Attr: an attribute of a document element
Section 25.5. Button: see Input
Section 25.6. Canvas: an HTML element for scripted drawing
Section 25.7. Canvas.getContext( ): return a context for drawing on the canvas
Section 25.8. CanvasGradient: a color gradient for use in a canvas
Section 25.9. CanvasGradient.addColorStop( ): add a change of color at some point in the gradient
Section 25.10. CanvasPattern: an image-based pattern for use in a Canvas
Section 25.11. CanvasRenderingContext2D: the object used for drawing on a canvas
Section 25.12. CanvasRenderingContext2D.arc( ): add an arc to the current subpath of a canvas, using a center point and radius
Section 25.13. CanvasRenderingContext2D.arcTo( ): add an arc of a circle to the current subpath, using tangent points and a
radius
Section 25.14. CanvasRenderingContext2D.beginPath( ): start a new collection of subpaths in a canvas
Section 25.15. CanvasRenderingContext2D.bezierCurveTo( ): add a cubic Bézier curve to the current subpath
Section 25.16. CanvasRenderingContext2D.clearRect( ): erase a rectangular area of a canvas
Section 25.17. CanvasRenderingContext2D.clip( ): set the clipping path of a canvas
Section 25.18. CanvasRenderingContext2D.closePath( ): closes an open subpath
Section 25.19. CanvasRenderingContext2D.createLinearGradient( ): create a linear color gradient
Section 25.20. CanvasRenderingContext2D.createPattern( ): create a pattern of tiled images
Section 25.21. CanvasRenderingContext2D.createRadialGradient( ): create a radial color gradient
Section 25.22. CanvasRenderingContext2D.drawImage( ): draw an image
Section 25.23. CanvasRenderingContext2D.fill( ): fill the path
Section 25.24. CanvasRenderingContext2D.fillRect( ): fill a rectangle
Section 25.25. CanvasRenderingContext2D.globalCompositeOperation: specifies how colors are combined on the canvas
Section 25.26. CanvasRenderingContext2D.lineCap: specifies how the ends of lines are rendered
Section 25.27. CanvasRenderingContext2D.lineJoin: specifies how vertices are rendered
Section 25.28. CanvasRenderingContext2D.lineTo( ): add a straight line to the current subpath
Section 25.29. CanvasRenderingContext2D.miterLimit: maximum-miter-length-to-line-width ratio
Section 25.30. CanvasRenderingContext2D.moveTo( ): sets the current position and begins a new subpath
Section 25.31. CanvasRenderingContext2D.quadraticCurveTo( ): add a quadratic Bezier curve to the current subpath
Section 25.32. CanvasRenderingContext2D.rect( ): add a rectangle subpath to the path
Section 25.33. CanvasRenderingContext2D.restore( ): reset drawing state to saved values
Section 25.34. CanvasRenderingContext2D.rotate( ): rotate the coordinate system of the canvas
Section 25.35. CanvasRenderingContext2D.save( ): save a copy of the current graphics state
Section 25.36. CanvasRenderingContext2D.scale( ): scale the user coordinate system of the canvas
Section 25.37. CanvasRenderingContext2D.stroke( ): draw the current path
Section 25.38. CanvasRenderingContext2D.strokeRect( ): draw a rectangle
Section 25.39. CanvasRenderingContext2D.translate( ): translate the user coordinate system of the canvas
Section 25.40. CDATASection: a CDATA node in an XML document
Section 25.41. CharacterData: common functionality for Text and Comment nodes
Section 25.42. CharacterData.appendData( ): append a string to a Text or Comment node
Section 25.43. CharacterData.deleteData( ): delete characters from a Text or Comment node
Section 25.44. CharacterData.insertData( ): insert a string into a Text or Comment node
Section 25.45. CharacterData.replaceData( ): replace characters of a Text or Comment node with a string
Section 25.46. CharacterData.substringData( ): extract a substring from a Text or Comment node
Section 25.47. Checkbox: see Input
Section 25.48. Comment: an HTML or XML comment
Section 25.49. CSS2Properties: a set of CSS attributes and their values
Section 25.50. CSSRule: a rule in a CSS stylesheet
Section 25.51. CSSStyleSheet: a CSS stylesheet
Section 25.52. CSSStyleSheet.addRule( ): IE-specific method to insert a rule into a stylesheet
Section 25.53. CSSStyleSheet.deleteRule( ): delete a rule from a stylesheet
Section 25.54. CSSStyleSheet.insertRule( ): insert a rule into a stylesheet
Section 25.55. CSSStyleSheet.removeRule( ): IE-specific method to remove a rule from a stylesheet
Section 25.56. Document: an HTML or XML document
Section 25.57. Document.addEventListener( ): see Element.addEventListener( )
Section 25.58. Document.attachEvent( ): see Element.attachEvent( )
Section 25.59. Document.createAttribute( ): create a new Attr node
Section 25.60. Document.createAttributeNS( ): create an Attr with a name and namespace
Section 25.61. Document.createCDATASection( ): create a new CDATASection node
Section 25.62. Document.createComment( ): create a new Comment node
Section 25.63. Document.createDocumentFragment( ): create a new, empty DocumentFragment node
Section 25.64. Document.createElement( ): create a new Element node
Section 25.65. Document.createElementNS( ): create a new Element node using a namespace
Section 25.66. Document.createEvent( ): create an Event object
Section 25.67. Document.createExpression( ): create an XPath expression for later evaluation
Section 25.68. Document.createProcessingInstruction( ): create a ProcessingInstruction node
Section 25.69. Document.createRange( ): create a Range object
Section 25.70. Document.createTextNode( ): create a new Text node
Section 25.71. Document.detachEvent( ): see Element.detachEvent( )
Section 25.72. Document.dispatchEvent( ): see Element.dispatchEvent( )
Section 25.73. Document.evaluate( ): evaluate an XPath expression
Section 25.74. Document.getElementById( ): find an element with the specified unique ID
Section 25.75. Document.getElementsByTagName( ): return all Element nodes with the specified name
Section 25.76. Document.getElementsByTagNameNS( ): return all Element nodes with a specified name and namespace
Section 25.77. Document.importNode( ): copy a node from another document for use in this document
Section 25.78. Document.loadXML( ): populate this Document by parsing a string of XML markup
Section 25.79. Document.removeEventListener( ): see Element.removeEventListener( )
Section 25.80. DocumentFragment: adjacent nodes and their subtrees
Section 25.81. DocumentType: the DTD of an XML document
Section 25.82. DOMException: signal exceptions or errors for core DOM objects
Section 25.83. DOMImplementation: methods independent of any particular document
Section 25.84. DOMImplementation.createDocument( ): create a new Document and the specified root element
Section 25.85. DOMImplementation.createDocumentType( ): create a DocumentType node
Section 25.86. DOMImplementation.hasFeature( ): determine whether the implementation supports a feature
Section 25.87. DOMParser: parses XML markup to create a Document
Section 25.88. DOMParser.parseFromString( ): parse XML markup
Section 25.89. Element: an HTML or XML element
Section 25.90. Element.addEventListener( ): register an event handler
Section 25.91. Element.attachEvent( ): register an event handler
Section 25.92. Element.detachEvent( ): delete an event listener
Section 25.93. Element.dispatchEvent( ): dispatch a synthetic event to this node
Section 25.94. Element.getAttribute( ): return the string value of a named attribute
Section 25.95. Element.getAttributeNode( ): return the Attr node for the named attribute
Section 25.96. Element.getAttributeNodeNS( ): return the Attr node for an attribute with a namespace
Section 25.97. Element.getAttributeNS( ): get the value of an attribute that uses namespaces
Section 25.98. Element.getElementsByTagName( ): find descendant elements with a specified tag name
Section 25.99. Element.getElementsByTagNameNS( ): return descendant elements with the specified name and namespace
Section 25.100. Element.hasAttribute( ): determine whether this element has a specified attribute
Section 25.101. Element.hasAttributeNS( ): determine whether this element has a specified attribute
Section 25.102. Element.removeAttribute( ): delete a named attribute of an element
Section 25.103. Element.removeAttributeNode( ): remove an Attr node from an element
Section 25.104. Element.removeAttributeNS( ): delete an attribute specified by name and namespace
Section 25.105. Element.removeEventListener( ): delete an event listener
Section 25.106. Element.setAttribute( ): create or change an attribute of an element
Section 25.107. Element.setAttributeNode( ): add a new Attr node to an Element
Section 25.108. Element.setAttributeNodeNS( ): add a namespace Attr node to an Element
Section 25.109. Element.setAttributeNS( ): create or change an attribute with a namespace
Section 25.110. Event: information about an event
Section 25.111. Event.initEvent( ): initialize the properties of a new event
Section 25.112. Event.preventDefault( ): cancel default action of an event
Section 25.113. Event.stopPropagation( ): do not dispatch an event any further
Section 25.114. ExternalInterface: a bidirectional interface to Flash
Section 25.115. ExternalInterface.addCallback( ): expose an ActionScript method for execution from JavaScript
Section 25.116. ExternalInterface.call( ): call a JavaScript function from ActionScript
Section 25.117. FileUpload: see Input
Section 25.118. FlashPlayer: plug-in for Flash movies
Section 25.119. FlashPlayer.GetVariable( ): return a value defined in a Flash movie
Section 25.120. FlashPlayer.GotoFrame( ): skip to the specified frame of a movie
Section 25.121. FlashPlayer.IsPlaying( ): check whether a movie is playing
Section 25.122. FlashPlayer.LoadMovie( ): load an auxiliary movie
Section 25.123. FlashPlayer.Pan( ): move the viewport of the movie
Section 25.124. FlashPlayer.PercentLoaded( ): determine how much of the movie has loaded
Section 25.125. FlashPlayer.Play( ): play a movie
Section 25.126. FlashPlayer.Rewind( ): rewind the movie to its first frame
Section 25.127. FlashPlayer.SetVariable( ): set a variable defined by a Flash movie
Section 25.128. FlashPlayer.SetZoomRect( ): set the viewport of a movie
Section 25.129. FlashPlayer.StopPlay( ): stop the movie
Section 25.130. FlashPlayer.TotalFrames( ): return the length of the movie, in frames
Section 25.131. FlashPlayer.Zoom( ): zoom in or out
Section 25.132. Form: a <form> in an HTML document
Section 25.133. Form.elements[]: the input elements of a form
Section 25.134. Form.onreset: event handler invoked when a form is reset
Section 25.135. Form.onsubmit: event handler invoked when a form is submitted
Section 25.136. Form.reset( ): reset the elements of a form to their default values
Section 25.137. Form.submit( ): submit form data to a web server
Section 25.138. Frame: a <frame> in an HTML document
Section 25.139. Hidden: see Input
Section 25.140. History: the URL history of the browser
Section 25.141. History.back( ): return to the previous URL
Section 25.142. History.forward( ): visit the next URL
Section 25.143. History.go( ): revisit a URL
Section 25.144. HTMLCollection: array of HTML elements accessible by position or name
Section 25.145. HTMLCollection.item( ): get an element by position
Section 25.146. HTMLCollection.namedItem( ): get an element by name
Section 25.147. HTMLDocument: the root of an HTML document tree
Section 25.148. HTMLDocument.all[]: all HTML elements in a document
Section 25.149. HTMLDocument.close( ): close an open document and display it
Section 25.150. HTMLDocument.cookie: the cookie(s) of the document
Section 25.151. HTMLDocument.domain: the security domain of a document
Section 25.152. HTMLDocument.getElementsByName( ): find elements with the specified name attribute
Section 25.153. HTMLDocument.open( ): begin a new document, erasing the current one
Section 25.154. HTMLDocument.write( ): append HTML text to an open document
Section 25.155. HTMLDocument.writeln( ): append HTML text and a newline to an open document
Section 25.156. HTMLElement: an element in an HTML document
Section 25.157. HTMLElement.onclick: event handler invoked when the user clicks on an element
Section 25.158. HTMLElement.ondblclick: event handler invoked when the user double-clicks on an element
Section 25.159. HTMLElement.onkeydown: event handler invoked when the user presses a key
Section 25.160. HTMLElement.onkeypress: event handler invoked when the user presses a key
Section 25.161. HTMLElement.onkeyup: event handler invoked when the user releases a key
Section 25.162. HTMLElement.onmousedown: event handler invoked when the user presses a mouse button
Section 25.163. HTMLElement.onmousemove: event handler invoked when the mouse moves within an element
Section 25.164. HTMLElement.onmouseout: event handler invoked when mouse moves out of an element
Section 25.165. HTMLElement.onmouseover: event handler invoked when the mouse moves over an element
Section 25.166. HTMLElement.onmouseup: event handler invoked when the user releases a mouse button
Section 25.167. HTMLElement.scrollIntoView( ): make an element visible
Section 25.168. IFrame: an <iframe> in an HTML document
Section 25.169. Image: an image in an HTML document
Section 25.170. Image.onabort: event handler invoked when the user aborts image loading
Section 25.171. Image.onerror: event handler invoked when an error occurs during image loading
Section 25.172. Image.onload: event handler invoked when an image finishes loading
Section 25.173. Input: an input element in an HTML form
Section 25.174. Input.blur( ): remove keyboard focus from a form element
Section 25.175. Input.click( ): simulate a mouse click on a form element
Section 25.176. Input.focus( ): give keyboard focus to a form element
Section 25.177. Input.onblur: the handler invoked when a form element loses focus
Section 25.178. Input.onchange: event handler invoked when a form element's value changes
Section 25.179. Input.onclick: event handler invoked when a form element is clicked
Section 25.180. Input.onfocus: event handler invoked when a form element gains focus
Section 25.181. Input.select( ): select the text in a form element
Section 25.182. JavaArray, JavaClass, JavaObject, JavaPackage: see Part III
Section 25.183. JSObject: Java representation of a JavaScript object
Section 25.184. JSObject.call( ): invoke a method of a JavaScript object
Section 25.185. JSObject.eval( ): evaluate a string of JavaScript code
Section 25.186. JSObject.getMember( ): read a property of a JavaScript object
Section 25.187. JSObject.getSlot( ): read an array element of a JavaScript object
Section 25.188. JSObject.getWindow( ): return initial JSObject for browser window
Section 25.189. JSObject.removeMember( ): delete a property of a JavaScript object
Section 25.190. JSObject.setMember( ): set a property of a JavaScript object
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
 CHAPTER NINE

M
ORE extracts from the lady’s journal:
“I can never begin an entry in my journal without having
that frightful scene come between me and these pages. Oh,
it was terrible,—terrible beyond all comprehension! I cannot believe,
after thinking it over and over during these weeks that have passed
since it occurred, that it was the fear of death that so terrified me,
and, I know, made an old woman of me. No, it could not have been
that. It was the fear of going with that awful condemnation upon
me. Was it just? Was it true?
“He seems to have recovered at last from the alarming depression
that followed his outbreak, and this gives me leisure to think, leisure
to recall many circumstances that in my blindness, my incredible
blindness and stupidity, I had overlooked. I take into account the
fearful strain under which he had suffered so long. He is a delicate,
finely organized man, and has had more to do and to bear than a
dozen strong men would have done and borne so well and patiently.
“There was his anxiety on the score of my recovery. Then there
were the endless duties of waiting on me, of thinking of the
thousands of little things that had to be thought of and done, and
that he never forgot nor neglected. He has done my cooking, my
washing,—everything that was hard and distasteful for a man to do.
Then there was his constant anxiety on account of the snow; and it
has been growing daily all through the winter with the increasing
dangers and discomforts; and besides his anxiety was the hard
physical labor—far too heavy for him—that he has been compelled
to do in order to keep our hut from being buried and ourselves from
being smothered. And, last, there has been the constant wearing
upon him of a close imprisonment with me, for whom I know he
now must have a most intense dislike.
 “I am satisfied, too, that he has anxieties concealed from me. That
they are associated with something upon which the back door
opens, I have no doubt. There are several reasons for my thinking
so. I am so nearly well now that I could get about and be helpful to
him if he would only make me a crutch, as I have often begged him
to do; but he has always put me off, saying that it was too early for
a crutch, that my desire to be useful would give me a serious
setback through making me overdo, and that the main thing for us
both to consider was the return of my strength as quickly as
possible, and our escape on snow-shoes that he would make as
soon as I should be able to walk. It has all sounded very plausible,
but it seems to me that common-sense would suggest that I take a
little exercise. In spite of my having regained my flesh, I am as weak
as an infant. Knowing that he is a good physician, I doubt his
sincerity about the crutch. I believe the solemn truth is that he fears
I would try to invade his cherished secret if I were able to be about.
“I know that he keeps the provisions in the place into which the
back door opens, and that this fact seems to give him a sufficient
excuse for going there so often,—especially as he does the cooking
there; and that is another strange circumstance. For weeks after I
was first brought to the hut he prepared the food on the broad
hearth here; but after a while he did that in the rear apartment,
explaining that the odors from the cooking were not good for me,
and that it was uncomfortable for him to cook before an open
fireplace. I protested that I did not mind the odors, and he replied
that I would at least consider his comfort.
“Another thing: He has not eaten with me for a long, long time.
His original plan was to prepare my meal, wait on me until I had
finished, and then have his own at the little table in the chimney-
corner. I did not observe for some time that he had quit eating in
that way, and that he took his meals in the rear apartment. He
always speaks of it as an ‘apartment,’ and not as a room. I wonder
why. I have been sitting up for a long time now, and do not require
his assistance after he has brought me my food. It would be much
pleasanter if he would sit at the little table and eat with me. Is his
dislike of me so deep that he cannot eat with me? With all my sense,
I have permitted this condition of affairs to come about! And we
both are sufferers by it.
“It is no wonder, with all these things troubling him, that he has
changed so much since I came. He is as scrupulously neat as ever,
and he makes this poor little hut shine, but he has changed
remarkably since I came. It has been so gradual that I didn’t
observe it until my blindness was no longer sufficient to keep me
from seeing it. He was slender and evidently not strong when I
came, but he has become a shadow, and his gaunt cheeks and
hollow eyes are distressing to me. When he comes in now from
fighting the snow,—for we must not be buried by it, and must have
light and air, and the top of the chimney must be kept clear,—his
weakness and exhaustion, though he tries so hard to conceal them,
are terrible to see.
“And now a great fear has come to me. It is that at any moment
he may break down and die. I wish I had not written that, I wish I
had never thought of it. Oh, if my father would only come! What can
be keeping him? Do I not know that he loves me better than
anything else in the world? Am I not all that he has to love and cling
to? I cannot, cannot, understand it. Dr. Malbone says it is
unreasonable for me to expect my father, and that if he should make
the effort to reach me now it would be at too great a risk to his own
life. He tries to assure me that my father will be governed entirely by
the advice of the people who know the mountains, and that they will
restrain him from making any such attempt, as they would not dare
to make it themselves. All that may be true, but it is difficult for me
to believe it. If I could only get a word from him, it would give me
greater strength to bear the horrors of my situation. But why should
I complain, when Dr. Malbone bears it all so patiently, so sweetly, so
cheerfully?
“Still, that awful picture of murder comes between me and these
pages unceasingly. I think I can understand now why men
sometimes kill women. Why should men and women be so different?
Why should it be impossible for them to comprehend each other? It
was Murder that I saw standing before me—both the horrible picture
of murder as he painted it, with me as the murderess—me as the
murderess!—and Murder in the flesh as he stood ready to strangle
me. Oh, the incredible ferocity of the man, the terrible, wild
savagery of him, the awful dark and nether side of his strangely
complex character! All along I had taken him for a pusillanimous
milksop, a baby, an old woman, a weak nobody; and at once he
dropped his outer shell and stood forth a Man,—terrible, savage,
brutal, overwhelming, splendid, wonderful! What is my judgment
worth after this? And I was so proud of my understanding of men!
“Why didn’t he kill me? It was my cry that checked him; but why
should it? Was it my appeal for help that brought him to his senses?
I think so. It touched that within him which had been so keenly
alert, so unrelaxingly vigilant, ever since I had come under his care.
But what did he mean by the howl of the she-wolf? And what did he
mean by saying that the wolves had come down? Several times
since that terrible scene he has waked me in the night with groans,
and with crying out in his sleep, ‘The she-wolf?’ These things have a
meaning, I know. Why does he explain nothing? And why have I
permitted an estrangement between us that makes it impossible for
me to seek his confidence? Is it too late now?
“Oh, the terrible moments, the interminable hours, that passed
after he had left the hut by the rear door! Every second, at first, I
expected him to return and kill me. Would he have a rifle, a revolver,
a knife, or a bludgeon, or would he come with those terrible long
fingers hooked like claws to fasten upon my throat? And yet,
somehow, I felt safe; I felt that his old watchfulness and solicitude
had returned.
“As soon as I could overcome the half-stupor into which his
outburst had thrown me I dragged myself to the rear door, intending
to barricade it against him. The effort was exceedingly painful and
exhausting, and brought me great suffering for a week afterward.
But my sufferings of mind and spirit were so much greater that I
could bear those of the flesh. When I had crawled to the door and
was trying to drag a box against it, I heard something that stopped
me. I am not certain that it was anything real. There was a loud
singing in my ears from the awful fright that I had suffered, and
what I heard may have been that, made seemingly coherent by my
over-strained imagination. What I heard sounded like the distant,
smothered, awful strains of Saint-Saens’s ‘Dance of Death’ played on
the violin. But wild and terrible as it sounded, it came as a pledge of
my safety. Murder cannot come with music.
“I drew myself away and with great effort clambered upon the
bed, where I lay a long time in complete exhaustion. Time had no
meaning for me. A dull, massive, intangible weight seemed to be
crushing me, and I longed—oh, how I longed!—for human
sympathy.
“The hut was dark when he returned. We had been very saving
with the candles, for Dr. Malbone explained that they were running
low; so in the evenings we generally had only the fire-light. There
seemed to be a generous supply of fire-wood in the rear apartment,
and some of it was a pitchy pine that gave out a fine blaze. When he
returned the fire had burned out. I felt no fear when I heard him
enter. I knew by the unsteadiness of his movements that he was
weak and ill, but the first sound of his voice as he called me
anxiously was perfectly reassuring.
“‘I am lying on the bed,’ I answered.
“He groped to the bedside and there he knelt, and buried his face
in his hands upon the coverlet. And then—I say it merely as his due,
merely as the simple truth—he did the manliest thing that a man
ever did. He raised his head and in dignified humility said,—
“‘I have done the most cowardly, the most brutal thing that a man
can do. Will you forgive me? Can you forgive me?
“I put out my hand to stop him, for it was terrible that a man
should be so humble and broken; but he took my hand in both of his
and held it.
“‘Will you? Can you? he pleaded.
“It was the only time that his touch had been other than the cold
and perfunctory one of the physician, and—I feel no shame in
writing it—it was the first time in my life that the touch of a man’s
hand had been so comforting. For a moment his hand seemed to
have been thrust through the wall that hitherto had separated us so
completely.
“‘You were not the one to blame,’ I said. ‘I alone was the guilty
one.’
“‘No, no!’ he protested, warmly. ‘What provocation under heaven
could excuse such conduct as mine?’
“‘I will forgive you,’ I said, ‘upon one condition.’
“‘And that———-’
“‘You forgive me in turn.’
“Very slowly, as soon as I had said that, the pressure with which
he had been holding my hand began to relax. What did that mean,
and why did he remain silent, and why did a pain come stealing into
my heart? Could not he be as generous as I? Had I overrated him,
after all?
“‘It was terrible!’ he half whispered. ‘By every obligation resting
upon a man, I should have been kind to you. You were my guest as
well as my patient. You were crippled and helpless, and unable to
defend yourself. You were a woman, looking to every man, by the
right of your sex, for comfort and protection. I was a man, owing to
you, because you were a woman, all the comfort and protection that
every man owes to every woman. All of these obligations I trampled
under foot.’
“Why did he put that sting into our reconciliation? Had he not
done it so innocently, so unintentionally, it would not have hurt so
much. I withdrew my hand from his very slowly; he made no effort
to retain it. He did not again ask me to forgive him, and he did not
offer me his forgiveness. The breach in the wall was closed, and the
barrier stood intact and impregnable between us.
“Presently he rose and made a fire, and prepared me something
to eat; but I had no appetite. Then he found that I had a fever, and
he was much distressed. There was just one comforting touch of
sympathy when he said to me,—
 “‘You were sobbing all the time I was making the fire and
preparing your supper. I promise not to frighten nor distress you
again.’
“How did he know I had been sobbing, when I had taken so much
pains to conceal it And yet I might have known that his watchfulness
upon my welfare is so keen, so unrelaxing, that nothing affecting me
can be hidden from him.
“I was confined to bed a week, and suffered greatly both in mind
and body. I had hurt my crippled leg, and that made my physician
very anxious. During all this time it had not occurred to me, so
sodden with selfishness is my nature, that he had suffered a very
serious nervous shock from his outburst of mad passion, and that
only by a mighty effort was he holding up to put me again on the
road to recovery. A realization of the truth came when my ill turn
had passed. He had hardly placed me comfortably on a chair when a
ghastly pallor made a death’s-head of his face, and he reeled to the
bed and fell fainting upon it, still having the thoughtfulness to say, as
he reeled,—
“‘I am—a little—tired—and sleepy. I—am perfectly—well. Have no
—uneasiness.’
“Except for his slight, short breathing, he lay for hours as one
dead; and then I realized more fully than ever the weight of the
awful burden that my presence has laid upon him. I know that I am
killing him. O God! is there nothing that I can do to help him, to
make it easier for him? What have I done that this horrible curse
should have come upon me?
“The most wonderful of all the strange things that I have seen and
learned in this terrible imprisonment is that his kindness toward me
has not suffered the slightest change. He is still the soul of
thoughtfulness, watchfulness, unselfishness, and yet he has
denounced me to my face as a——
“Another thing I have found: All the training that I have had in
cleverness goes for nothing here. He always avoids the beginning of
any conversation on subjects other than those that lie immediately
near us. It therefore requires a great effort on my part—and I think I
deserve some praise for it—to draw him into discussions of general
matters. In these discussions he never advances an opinion if he
suspects that I have an opposite one, and never opposes nor
contradicts me; but I cannot help feeling that his views are so much
broader and deeper than mine, so much wiser, so much more
charitable, so much nearer to what he calls ‘the great heart of
humanity,’ as to make me seem shallow and mean. Am I really so? I
try not to be.
“With indescribable tact and delicacy, he holds me at an infinite
distance, and I have been unable to find any way to bridge the vast
gulf.... After all, why should I try? If he despises me, I cannot help
it. This miserable position in which I am placed will be at an end
some time; and when I am again free, and in my own world, I will
show him the gratitude that I feel. Will he let me?...
“What is there so repulsive about me? Why should I be treated as
a viper? And why is it that of all the men I have known—men whom
I could handle as putty—this obscure backwoods doctor sets himself
wholly apart from me, remains utterly impregnable, shames and
humiliates me with a veiled pity, and feels not the slightest touch of
the power that I know myself to have? Is my face ugly? Are my
manners crude? Is my voice repellent? Where are my resources of
womanly tact that I have used successfully in the past? Why is it
that I fail utterly to impress him as having a single admirable trait, a
single grace of appearance, manner, or character?
“It is hard to bear all this. I try to be brave and strong and
cheerful, as he always is; but it is human nature to resent his
treatment, and it is cruel of him to keep me in such a position. It is
the first time in my life that I have been at a disadvantage.
“I imagine that he has suffered some great sorrow. Indeed, he
said so in his outburst. His distrust of me seems to indicate its
character. He probably gave some heartless woman his whole love,
his whole soul, and she laughed at him and cast him off. That would
go hard with a man of his kind. There can be no other explanation;
and now I am the sufferer for that woman’s sin: he thinks that all
women are like her.
“I will write this vow, so that I may turn to it often and strengthen
my purpose by reading it:
“I will make this man like me. I will tear down the wall that he has
built between us. I will employ every resource to bring him to my
feet. I will make him appreciate me. I will make him need me. I will
make him want me.
“That is my vow.”
Thus end, again for the present, these extracts from the lady’s
journal.
 CHAPTER TEN

T
HE severity of the winter did not relax. There were intervals
when the wind did not blow and the snow did not fall; but
there were neither warm winds nor sunshine to melt the snow,
the depth of which grew steadily and aggravated the impassableness
of the roads. Day by day, week by week, month by month it
strengthened the bars of the prison holding the two unhappy souls.
With the prolonged and increasing rigors of the winter harder and
harder grew the rigors of the prison. The strength of Wilder’s spirit
was beginning to break down; and while it distressed his fair charge
to see him suffer, it warmed her heart to realize that the day of her
triumph was near,—the day when she should serve him as gently, as
unselfishly, as faithfully as he had served her. It would be sweet to
have him helpless, to have him lean upon her, need her, want her.
Her manner had undergone a great change since the terrible
scene in which her life was threatened. Her firmness, her self-
reliance, her aggressiveness, her condescension, all had gone, and
she bore herself toward her rescuer as mother, sister, and friend. In
innumerable little ways she saved him trouble through denying
herself, and did it so tactfully that he never suspected the deception.
Under the influence of this he had at last made her a crutch, which,
though rude and uncomfortable, she declared to be a miracle of
ease. She believed that in giving it to her he expressed more
confidence in her than he had felt before.
Its introduction into the scheme of their lives worked changes that
astonished and pleased him. In spite of his distressed protests, she
overhauled his meagre wardrobe, and with deft workmanship put
every article in perfect order. Her skill and ingenuity were employed
in many other ways, so that the cabin soon took on a look very
different from that which she had found when she came. Little
touches lent an air of grace and a sense of comfort that the place
had not borne before.
She relieved him of all the work of caring for her, except that of
cooking; this was a duty that he reserved with immovable
stubbornness. Nor could she contrive with all her wiles and
persuasion to make him have his meals with her. She formed many a
theory to explain his conduct in that particular. Finally, she settled
upon this one: He preferred to fill the rôle of a servitor; as such he
must take his meals apart. But why should he so choose? Was it
because he deemed it the safer course for them both? Was it
because he wished to discipline her by placing her above him, when
by obvious right they were equals? Speculation was useless; she was
forced to accept the fact, which she did with all the grace at her
command.
He had grown thin to emaciation. His hands were those of a
skeleton covered tightly with skin. His cheeks were greatly sunken,
and the drawn skin upon his cheek-bones was a chalky white. But
his eyes were the most haunting of his features. They seemed to be
looking always for something that could not be found, and to show a
mortal dread of a catastrophe that had given no sign of its
imminence. In their impenetrable depths she imagined that she saw
all mysteries, all fears, all anxieties.
Still, though very weak, he kept sturdily and cheerfully at his
duties. There was the snow to fight. There was the fire to be kept
up, for the cold was intense. There was the cooking to do.
Uncomfortable as her bed was, she knew that it was luxurious in
comparison with the thinly covered floor of stones and earth upon
which he slept. In time this came to haunt her unceasingly, and she
pondered every conceivable plan to make him more comfortable. At
first it was her firm intention to make him take the bed while she
slept on the floor; but she knew that it would be useless to make the
suggestion; so she was forced to abandon the idea, dear as it was to
her, and happy as its adoption would have made her. Instead, she
did what she could to make his pallet comfortable. Her ingenuity
made so great a difference that his gratitude touched her.
 One day she discovered him in agonizing pain. The torture was so
great that it broke down his iron fortitude and drew his face awry.
She was instantly at his side, her hand on his shoulder and her face
showing a wistful anxiety.
“What is it, my friend?” she inquired, in the gentlest voice.
With a pitiful effort at self-mastery he declared that it was only a
trifling and transitory pain, and that it was rapidly passing. She knelt
beside him and looked anxiously into his face. Her solicitude
evidently increased his suffering, but she was determined to make
the fight then and there.
“Tell me what it is, my friend,” she begged.
This was the second time that she had called him “my friend.”
“It is only rheumatism,” he said, somewhat impatiently, and
making a gentle effort to push her away. But she persisted.
“That is not a trifling thing,” she said, “for your strength is greatly
reduced. Where is the pain?”
“Oh, I don’t know; you are only making it harder for me!” he
petulantly exclaimed.
A great gladness filled her heart, for she knew that he was giving
way, and that her solicitude was hastening his collapse.
“No,” she said, “I will make you well. Where is the pain?” His face
gave the glad sign of his wavering.
“Where is the pain?” she repeated. “It is my right to know and
your duty to tell me.”
“In my——” he said, gasping, “in my chest.”
She rose and went to the bed, which she prepared for him. When
he saw what her intention was he came to his feet with great effort.
Before she could divine his purpose or check him, he had gone to
the rear door, hastily opened it, and saying, “I will be back in a
moment,” passed out and closed it after him. She stood bewildered
at the neatness with which he had baffled her, and alarmed for his
safety. But he had promised to return at once, and she knew that he
would if he could. To her great relief he soon came back, bearing
some biscuits and a few tins of provisions. As he stepped within and
locked the door he dropped a tin, and before she could go to his
assistance he had fallen while trying to pick it up. She drew him to
his feet, and was amazed to discover how much stronger she was
than he, and yet she had thought herself very weak. She seated him
upon the edge of the bed and began to remove his shoes.
“No, no!” he gasped; “you shall not do that.”
But she kept on and succeeded, and laid him upon the bed and
drew the covers over him.
“Now,” she said, “tell me what to give you.”
He did so, and it gave her infinite satisfaction to have him take the
medicine from her hand. Soon his pain relaxed, and he fell into a
heavy slumber.
While she watched him as might a mother her slumbering first-
born, her soul warmed and expanded, and her one shy regret was
that his head was not resting on her breast. But there were duties
awaiting her. She took up the surplus ashes from the hearth. She
revived the fire with the wood that he had heaped up at the
chimney-side the night before. She put snow into a vessel to heat
water. She stowed away his pallet. She prepared to make tea as
soon as the water should be hot. In the performance of these and
other minor tasks she was very happy, and for the first time since
she had entered the hut she sang softly. The work was not easy, for
she had little strength, being unused so long to exercise, and her
lameness and the crutch interfered sorely.
One sting hurt unceasingly. She reflected that her host had
decided to take to the bed under her persuasion, and that he had
brought the provisions from the rear apartment so that she might
prepare food during his helplessness; but this was because he had
not trusted her to get the provisions herself,—had made it
unnecessary for her to enter the forbidden chamber. As well as she
could she tried to be generous; she tried to think that a man so
kind, so thoughtful, so respectful, must have the best reasons for
keeping her out of that room. If so, she had no right to expect his
confidence. But why did he give her no explanation? Why should he
not trust her to that extent? This was the sting that hurt.
In a vague way she believed that something ought to be put on
his chest for the pain that he had suffered there.
She had an intense desire to do something for him. She thought
that cloths saturated with liniment would be good for him. With
great caution, to avoid waking him, she opened the garments
covering his chest. He still slept heavily, for the medicine that he had
taken carried a soporific element. When she had bared his breast
and seen the frightful emaciation of his body, she quickly covered
him, fell upon her face to the floor, and sobbed.
The day advanced, but still he slept. Her one hope now was that
he would sleep into the night, for that would require her to sleep on
the pallet before the hearth. She had another precious hope, and it
was that they would at last eat a meal together; but she would
rather that he slept; so, toward evening, she made a simple meal
and ate her share alone, and kept his ready for him against his
waking.
She marvelled that there was so much to do in so small a place,
and that the day—the sweetest, she believed, of all the days of her
life—had passed so quickly. At short intervals she would lean over
him and listen to his short, half-checked breathing; or she would
gently lay her cool hand upon his hot forehead, or hold one of his
burning hands in hers, and then press it to her cheek. It seemed
surpassingly wonderful that the strong man, strong in spirit only,
should be lying now as helpless as an infant, wholly dependent upon
her.
At times he was restless, and talked unintelligibly in his sleep; she
was instantly at his side, to soothe him with her cool, soft hand upon
his face; and when she saw that it always calmed him, she sighed
from the sweet pain that filled her breast. Once, when he seemed on
the verge of waking, she slipped her arm under his head, and gave
him more of the medicine, which he took unresistingly, and slept
again. As the night wore on, she made herself unhappy with trying
to choose between sitting at his bedside and watching, and suffering
the hardship that he had borne so long in sleeping on the pallet.
While she was in the throes of this contention, another urgent
matter arose. It had been her host’s custom to bring in a supply of
wood every night. That which he had brought the night before was
now exhausted, and more was needed. How could she get it. She
knew that he had locked the back door and put the key into a
certain pocket. She knew that she could not get the wood without
the key. Procuring a supply of fuel was one precaution that he had
overlooked when he had brought in a supply of provisions.
He was in a profound slumber. She could get the key, and thus
provide the wood for the night. But would it be right to do so? If the
fire went out the cold would be intense, and might prove fatal to
him. If she should enter the forbidden room, would that be taking an
unfair advantage of his helplessness? It was a hard problem, but in
the end her sense of duty outweighed her sense of delicacy. With
the greatest caution she slipped her hand into his pocket and
secured the key. With equal caution she went to the door and
unlocked it.
Then a great fear assailed her. What lay beyond the door? Might it
not be some danger that only her host could safely face? If so, what
could it be?... It were wise to have a candle; but search failed to
discover one. She secured a small torch from the fire, and cautiously
opened the door.
To her surprise, no chamber was revealed, but merely a walled
and roofed passage closed at the farther end with a door. Piled
within it was a store of wood; there was nothing else. It was very
awkward for the young woman to carry the crutch, the torch, and
the wood all at once; it was necessary to relinquish the torch. She
carried it back to the fireplace, and went again to the passage, piled
some wood in her free arm, and started back. As she did so she saw
her host sitting up and staring at her in horror. This so frightened
her that she dropped the wood, screamed, and fell fainting to the
floor.
 When she became conscious she found herself on the bed and her
host watching beside her. There was the old look of command in his
face, the old veil that hung between her and his confidence; and
thus her glorious day had come to an inglorious end, and her spirit
was nearly crushed. Her host had recovered in a measure,—
sufficiently for him to resume the command of his house. No
questions were asked, no explanations were given. He thanked her
gratefully for her kindness to him, and thus her brief happiness came
to an end. The old round of labor, of waiting, of hoping, of suffering,
of imprisonment, was taken up again.
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
FEW days afterward they were sitting before the fire in
silence. It had become habitual with the young woman to
study every look and movement of her host; to anticipate him
in the discharge of the household duties; to provide for him every
little comfort that the meagre resources of the hut afforded; and to
observe with a strange pleasure the steady breaking down of his will
and courage. She realized that his recent attack, though so quickly
overcome, was a warning of his approaching complete collapse; and
she believed that only when that should happen could she hope with
sympathy and careful nursing to save him. She welcomed the
moroseness that was stealing over him, his growing failure to study
her every want, and his occasional lapses into a petulant bearing
toward her. It gratified her to see him gradually loosen the iron mask
that he had worn so long. Most significant of all his symptoms were
hallucinations that began to visit him. At times he would start up in
violent alarm and whisper, “Did you hear the howling of the wolves?”
At others he would start in alarm to resist an imaginary attack upon
the rear door. A touch of her hand, a gentle, firm word, would
instantly calm him, and then he would look foolish and ashamed.
On this day, as they sat before the fire, matters took a new and
strange turn. He suddenly said,—
“Listen!”
She was so deeply absorbed in watching him and so expectant of
erratic conduct from him that she gave no thought to the possibility
of danger from an external source. For dreary months she had
waited in this small prison, and no longer gave heed to any tumult
without. The young man had been lounging in hopeless langour, but
now he sat upright, every nerve, muscle, and faculty under
extraordinary tension.
 “It is coming!” he cried. “I have been expecting it every day. Come
—quick, for God’s sake!”
Saying that, he seized her by the arm, and with furious eagerness
and surprising strength dragged her to the rear door, giving her little
time to seize her crutch. He unlocked the door and threw it open,
but before he could open the door at the further end of the passage
she heard a heavy roar and felt the great mountain tremble. Wholly
ignorant of the meaning of it all, but seeing that her host was moved
by an intelligent purpose, and feeling profound confidence and
comfort in the protection that he was throwing about her, she placed
herself completely under his guidance.
The rear door was opened, and they entered a dark, cold
chamber. With every moment the roaring increased and the
trembling of the mountain was augmented. Then came a
tremendous, stupefying crash, and the cataclysm gradually died
away in silence, leaving an impenetrable, oppressive blackness.
The two prisoners stood in breathless silence, held tightly in each
other’s arms. The young woman asked no questions; her sense of
security and comfort in this man’s arms filled the whole want of her
hour. She felt vaguely that something more dreadful than all their
past misfortunes had befallen them; but that feeling brought no chill
to the strong warm blood that swept rhythmically through her heart.
She was at peace with her fate. If this was death, it was death for
them both, it was death with him.
Her keen sympathy made her intensely attentive to every sign that
he gave; and thus it was that she accepted, without surprise or
dismay, the realization that he was not rallying, and that, on the
contrary, he was sinking under the nameless blow that had fallen
upon them. It was not anxiety for that, but for him, that now gave
her every conscious quality a redoubled alertness. His grasp upon
her tightened, and by this she knew that he felt the need of her, and
was clinging to her. He trembled in every member, and swayed as he
stood. With little effort she bore him to the ground, where, kneeling
beside him and holding his hands, she softly spoke,—
 “My friend, we are together; and so long as each is the stay of the
other, we shall have strength and courage for all things. Now tell me
what I may do for you.” She knew by the pressure of his hand upon
hers that her words had found good ground. She gently pressed her
advantage. “Tell me what I may do for you. You are weak. You know
how strong and healthy and willing I am; then, imagine how much
pleasure it would give me to help you! You need a stimulant. Is
there one in the cabin? Tell me where it is, and I will bring it.”
“You are kind,” he said, tremulously.
“But do you know what has happened?” As he asked this question
he rose to a sitting posture, she assisting him.
“No,” she calmly answered; “but no matter what has happened,
we are together, and thus we have strength and courage for it.”
“Ah,” he said, hopelessly, “but this is the end! An avalanche has
buried us and the cabin is destroyed!”
Terrible as was this declaration, it had no weakening effect upon
his companion.
“Is that all?” she cheerily asked. “But avalanches melt away, and
we have each other. And if it come to the very worst, we shall still
have each other. Besides each other, we have life, and with life there
is always hope, there is always the duty to hope. If we abandon
hope, life itself is abandoned.”
This worked like good wine in his veins; but she knew by the way
in which he still clung to her, seemingly fearful that she would leave
him for a moment, that a dreadful unknown thing sat upon him. She
waited patiently for him to disclose it. She knew that the shock of
the catastrophe had wholly cleared his mind, and that the old terrors
which he had concealed from her were working upon him with
renewed activity. Still he kept silence.
“Do you know,” she presently said, “that I am glad the avalanche
has come? I understand now the dread of some terrible happening
that has been haunting you. Well, it has come, and we are still alive;
and better than that, we have each other. Think how much more
dreadful it might have been! Suppose that it had come while you
were outside, and swept you away. Suppose that it had crushed us
in the cabin. But here we are, safe and sound, and happy each in
the presence of the other.... And I am thinking of something else.
The snow stopped falling long ago. Lately we have had warm winds
and some rain. This must mean, my friend, that the worst is over.
And doesn’t it mean that the rain has softened the snow and
loosened it to make this avalanche?”
A sudden strength, a surprised gladness, were in the pressure that
he now gave her hand.
“It is true, it is true!” he softly exclaimed.
“Then,” she continued, “the winter has dealt its last blow, and our
liberation is at hand; for the rains that caused the avalanche will
melt the snow that it has piled upon us, and also the snow that has
closed the roads. It seems to me that the best of all possible things
has happened.”
“I hadn’t thought of that!” he exclaimed, with a childish eagerness
that made her heart glow.
“Besides,” she continued, “how do you know that the cabin is
destroyed? Let us go and see.”
Her gentle strength and courage, the seeming soundness of her
reasoning, and her determination not to take a gloomy view of their
state, roused him without making him aware of his weakness. Her
suggestion that the cabin possibly had not been destroyed was a
spur to his dulled and stunned perception.
“That is true,” he cheerfully said; “let us go and see.”
Still clinging closely to each other, they groped in the darkness for
the door.
“You have matches, haven’t you?” she inquired.
“Yes,” he answered, in confusion; “but we can find the door
without a light.”
That was not so easy. For the first time, now that the terrors of
the moment had passed, the young woman was nursing a happiness
that she had not known during all the dreary weeks of their
imprisonment,—except once, in his illness, when it had been of so
short duration.
Feeling thus content, she suddenly reflected that she was at last in
the forbidden apartment, where she believed some fearful mystery
was kept concealed from her. Their voices had been long smothered
in the cramped hut. The contrast that she now found was startling;
yet her thoughts might not have reverted to the fact that she was at
last in the presence of the mystery had not Wilder’s embarrassed
refusal to make a light rekindled her interest. The first thing in that
direction that she noticed was the singular resonance of their voices,
as though they were in a place of a size just short of the echoing
power. More than that, it was cold, though not nearly so cold as the
outer air; and she heard the musical tinkle of dripping and running
water.
Wilder had evidently lost all idea of direction. In clinging to his
companion as he groped, he took great care to guard her against
stumbling and collision. His free hand (the other arm was about her
waist) was extended. With great difficulty, increased by his
eagerness, he finally found his bearings and advanced to the door.
Slowly and cautiously they pushed on through the passage, and
then, to their great relief, into the hut itself. This they found intact,
but smoky and entirely dark,—the avalanche had smothered the
chimney and shut out the light from the window. With matches they
discovered that the window had not been broken and that the outer
wall of the house held none of the pressure of the snow. In his
peculiar fashion, however, Wilder began to foresee troubles.
“The pressure of the mass above,” he said, “will compress the
snow below, and thus give our window, and perhaps the outer wall
of the cabin itself, a pressure that they can’t bear. The hut is buried.
We can have no more fires. The worst of all is that, having no air, we
must suffocate in time.”
“Is all that necessary, my friend?” his companion asked. “We can
at least try to clear away the snow and thus remove all those
difficulties; and there is a chance—and a good one, don’t you think?
—for the snow to melt quickly. Besides all that, we have not yet tried
to dig out through the snow.”
“True, true, every word of it!” he cried, delightedly. “What a clear,
strong mind you have!”
This was the first compliment that he had ever paid her, and its
obvious sincerity gave it a precious value.
It was she that now led the attack upon their prison of snow.
What infinite satisfaction and pride it gave her to know that at last
she was the guiding spirit of the hut; with what firm but gentle tact
she overcame, one by one, his objections to her worrying or
working; how she watched his every movement, hung upon his
every word, relieved him as much as possible of the stress that
burdened him, and ministered to his comfort in all ways; with what
blithe songs in her heart and cheery words on her lips she lightened
the toil of that dreadful time, need only be mentioned here. But it
was she that led, that inspired, that achieved, and he knew it. This
was the blessed light that shone for her through it all.
A search revealed loose and easily removed snow at one end of
the hut, against the face of the cliff. His work in the lead, digging
and tunnelling, hers in the rear, removing the snow and keeping
courage in his heart, brought them presently to the outer air. Then,
for the first time, they beheld the glorious sunshine, and like children
they shouted in glee to see it. Both walls of the canon were still
heavily covered with snow, but numerous small slides had broken it,
and the rain had softened and ploughed it. Evidently it was rapidly
melting.
Another scene held them as they stood hand in hand looking
down into the canon. The great avalanche that had overwhelmed
them had been arrested in the bottom of the canon, and had made
a large lake by damming the river. Rapidly the lake grew in size and
backed up the canon. Soon at any moment the growing mass of
water must break through its dam, and that would be a spectacle to
behold.
 They could not wait for that. With incredible labor—he no longer
protesting against her full share in the work, and she heedless of her
lameness and of its serious hindrance to her efforts—they together,
hand in hand, clambered over the snow until they stood above the
hut, and cheerily began to dig it free,—a task seemingly so far
beyond their powers that something wonderful must have sustained
them in assailing it. Thus they were working in the afternoon
sunshine, for the first time boon companions, and as happy and
light-hearted as children, when an exclamation from Wilder drew her
attention to the dam. It was giving way under the pressure of water.
Instantly she recognized a danger that he had overlooked.
“Back to the cliff!” she cried, seizing his hand and dragging him
away, “or we’ll go down with the snow.”
They reached their tunnel and the cabin in good time; but soon
afterward the dam broke, and the swirling, thundering mass of
water bore it down the canon. This removed the support of the snow
backed up between the river and the top of the cliff, and it went
plunging down into the water, leaving the top of the hut exposed,
and solving the problem of the prison of snow.
 CHAPTER TWELVE

O
NCE again from the lady’s journal:
“It is impossible for me to describe the hope, peace, and
comradeship that have transformed this place into a little
nest, where it had been so terrible a prison before. The sunshine
outside continues, and I know that it is but a matter of days when
my father will come. It seems unaccountable to me that anything in
the world could have stayed him so long; but Dr. Mal-bone assures
me that the roads and mountains are still utterly impassable; that
the roads, besides being strewn with fallen trees, are in places
washed away, and that our one means of escape will be afoot, on
our own account. We are now talking it over all the time, and are
ready to start at the first favorable moment. My leg is nearly well;
only a slight pain after severe exertion, and a most embarrassing
weakness there, are the trouble now. But he is putting me through
excellent treatment and training to overcome all that; and he has
given me the joyous promise that we shall make the start in a week
from to-day.
“And now I must write of some other wonderful things that have
happened. The change that has come in our mutual bearing and
understanding is so incredible that I hardly dare put it down here,
lest it prove a dream. I made a vow some time ago in this journal
that I would make this man need me and want me. That victory is
won. And I know that in winning it over him I have won it over
myself. O God, how blind, how stupidly, sordidly blind, I have been
all these years! In the depths of my wretched selfishness, in the
dark caverns of my meanness, I had never dreamed of the real
human heart throbbing and aching and hoping all about me; it has
taken this strange man to drag me forth into the light. And not at all
willingly or consciously has he done so. There is a sting in that. At
times I hate him still when I think of it all. It was the silent,
intangible, undirected force radiating from him that has wrought the
change. I feel no humiliation in saying this. I say it and know it in
spite of the great distance that separates us,—the social barriers
that mean so little and do so much. It will remain with me forever,
whatever happen, to have known a man; to have known him in his
strength and weakness, in his splendid unselfishness and childish
reliance; in his simplicity and complexity; in his singleness of
purpose and variety of attributes; in his gentleness and ferocity, and,
above all, in his wonderful sense of duty. But I wish he were moved
by something besides duty.
“There is another thing I must write, and I write it with a
consciousness of burning cheeks. At times I find him—rather, I feel
him—looking at me with a certain gentleness when I am not
observing. What does that mean? Have I learned men so badly that
I can mistake its meaning? The most convenient woman will do for
the man who may prefer another but inaccessible one. Until we
came closer together since the avalanche passed and the sunshine
came, I was not a woman to him. No; I was a Duty. But there has
now come into his voice and his glance a new quality,—stay!
Remember that the weakness of women is their vanity. Could there
happen so wonderful a thing as this man’s regard for me of the kind
that a woman wants from the man whom she worships? If so, is he
too proud, too reserved, too conscious of his present obligation of
duty and protection, to make it known? Does he still fear me? Does
he still hold in his heart the frightful denunciation that he hurled at
me? Does he still loathe me as a murderess? Is my wealth a barrier?
Does he lack the courage to dare what every man must dare in
order to secure the woman he loves?
“Loves? Why did I write that word? By what authority or right?
And yet, of all the words that the sunshine of the soul has placed
upon the tongue, that is the sweetest....
“Distressing things have happened since I wrote the foregoing. For
a time the stimulation of sunshine and hope, the sure prospect of
my release from this prison, worked miracles with his strength, both
of body and mind; but three days ago he grew silent and moody,
then restless and anxious; by night he was down with a fever, the
cause of which I cannot understand. When I see his fleshless chest
and arms, I wonder if he has some malady that is killing him, and
that he has concealed from me. His drawn face, with the skin tight
to breaking on his cheek-bones, and his extreme emaciation, look
like consumption; but he has no other symptoms, and he declares
that he is perfectly sound. Is my presence so distressing that it alone
is killing him? If so, it is murder for me to stay longer. If I only knew!
“Why does he conceal anything from me? What could he have to
conceal that it is not right for me to know? And yet I know that the
act of concealment could not thus be killing him,—it is the thing he
is concealing that has the terror. It would be infinitely better for us
both if he let me share it, and, as I am so much stronger than he, I
could bear it so much better; the sharing of it would lighten his
burden, and my sympathy would give him strength. Why cannot he
see all this, when it is so clear to me? I must be patient, patient,
patient! That is my watchword now.
“As in the former case, when he was taken ill, so now he prepared
for his illness by bringing in a small, but this time utterly inadequate,
supply of provisions. Not in a single instance, down to this last
attack, has he consented to eat with me; he has always retreated
through the rear door and eaten alone. It is now getting hard for me
to bear this singular tyranny about the food. He eats with me now,
because, being helpless in bed, he cannot avoid it; but he eats so
little! It is impossible for him to gain strength in this way, and I am
distressed beyond expression. He simply declares that he cannot
eat. Singularly enough, he is always urging me of late to eat little,
else I shall bring on a long list of disorders that will prevent our
escape. For that matter, there is so little left of the store that he
brought from the rear that I am uneasy lest the supply be exhausted
and he remain stubbornly to his purpose not to trust me to get more
from the place behind the rear door. What will be the end of this
dreadful situation?
“It seems an odd inconsistency in his nature that this subject of
eating should consume so much of his wandering thoughts. In his
delirium he paints gorgeous pictures of feasts. He marvels at the
splendor of Nero’s banquets, and declares that the people with so
much to eat must have been fat and content! I hate to put this
down, for it seems treasonable to betray this touch of grossness in a
nature so singularly fine. If he thinks so much of eating, why should
he be urging me to eat sparingly of the rude things that his larder
might afford, and that cost me so much effort to eat with a good
grace? It is strange how many unexpected things we learn of others
in intimate association!...
“In glancing over these last pages I see how wretchedly I have
failed to give the least insight into our life and relations. How could I
ever have had the heart to see, much more put in writing, the
slightest flaw in so noble a character? It would seem that the
sympathy born of this new relation between us ought to touch only
the best in my nature. Shame, shame, shame on me! Do I not see
his haunting glance follow me everywhere, and resting upon me
always with inexpressible gratitude?
“He is almost completely dependent upon me now. I nurse him as
I would a child. It would be utterly inadequate to say that this fills
me with happiness as being a return of some of the kindness that he
has shown me. No, there is something besides that. The gratitude in
my heart is great,—greater than I had thought so small and mean a
heart could have. I am glad that I have it. But the joy of it all is the
doing for this man, without regard to gratitude. To do for him; to
nurse him; to cheer him; to feel that he needs me and wants me,—
that is my heaven. And although a dreadful fear haunts me that he
is dying,—that in some way that I cannot understand I am killing
him,—that if he should die my life would be empty and dark,—still, it
would be infinitely sweet to have him die in my arms, still needing
me, still wanting me. Now that I have written that,—how could I
have written it?—I will write more in all shamelessness. I want him
to say that he needs me and wants me,—that he needs me and
wants me to the end of his life.
“As I have written that much, I will write the rest, else my heart
will burst. I love this man. I love him with all my heart, all my soul. I
love him for everything that he is, not for anything that he has done.
He is the one man whom the great God in His cruel wisdom and
merciless providence has sent into my life for me to love. And with
my tears wetting these pages, and my soul breathing prayers for his
recovery, and his delivery to me, I pledge and consecrate myself to
him to the end of my days, whatever may come. With every good
impulse within me I will strive to be worthy of so great a heart, so
noble a love. I will try to win his love by deserving it....
“An unexpected change for the better has come. Our supply of
food had fallen so low that I had about determined to take matters
into my own hands, enter the forbidden chamber, and get more
provisions, when another idea occurred to me. It was absolutely
necessary that we have more food. More important than that was
the evident fact that he would die for the need of it if it were not
forthcoming. I feared the disturbing effect of my going into the
forbidden chamber, and so decided to make a thorough search of
the cabin first. Knowing his inexplicable peculiarity on the subject of
our food, I suspected that at some time in his mental wandering he
may have concealed some in the cabin. So this morning before
daylight, while he slept,—his sleeping is incredibly light,—I cautiously
made a search of the cabin, and happily found a few nourishing
things in the bottom of a box, where he had either concealed them
or left them forgotten. These I prepared for him in a most tempting
manner. I arranged my own dishes in a way to make him think I had
eaten abundantly myself, and told him so when he awoke and
refused to eat, urging me to eat what I had prepared for him.
“When I had convinced him that I had eaten all I could, he took a
little, gingerly, from my hand. I had laid my plans well. As I fed him I
talked incessantly, telling him a story that I knew would interest him.
Before he realized what he was doing—his mind was not as alert as
it normally is—he had eaten somewhat generously. The effect was
magical. Color came to his cheeks and the quiet old sparkle to his
eyes. Before long, to my great surprise and delight, he was up, and
then went out to note the prospect for our leaving. He came back
with a radiant face and buoyant manner, and said,—
 “‘My friend, we will start at sunrise to-morrow.’
“My heart gave a great bound. It was a simple matter to make our
preparations, as it was necessary that we travel as light as possible.
It is time that we were leaving, for the last of the food that he
brought from the rear is exhausted....
“The morning has come. And now we are about to turn our backs
upon this strange place of suffering and mystery, its suffering
endured, its mystery unsolved. And without shame do I say that I
would rather walk out thus, and face the perils that lie ahead, with
this man as my guide, my protector, my friend, than go forth in all
the stateliness and triumph that wealth could afford.
“Farewell, dear, dear little home, my refuge, my cradle, my hope. I
will come back, and——
“He is calling me at the door. I must kiss this table, these chairs,
that bed, the walls. But it is with Him that I go.” Thus closed the
lady’s journal.
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
HE two started bravely in the fine morning sunshine. There
were long and laborious miles ahead, and only a short day in
which to overcome them and their difficulties. In his heart the
young man believed that it would be impossible for them to
complete the task that day, and he dreaded the shelterless night
that would overtake them. But should he break down, the day’s
work would have hardened his companion for the rest of the journey
alone. There was a chance that they would find help on the way, for
surely efforts would be making to clear the roads. The snow had
disappeared from all exposed places.
They descended the shaly, slippery trail to the road, and here he
was gratified to see that the avalanche had cleared away the fallen
tree and the wreck of the wagon. He led the way up the canon, for
in that direction were the nearest houses.
He found the road even worse than he had expected. Being a
narrow way, cut into the steep slope of the canon, to leave it in
rounding fallen trees and breaches left by the storm was a slow and
laborious task, and time was precious for a number of reasons. Each
had a load to bear,—he some covering against the night, and she
some articles of her own. These soon became very burdensome to
both.
On they plodded. While a heaviness appeared in his manner, her
bearing was cheerful and spirited. A sadness that he made no effort
to conceal and that she bravely hid oppressed them both. To find
him sad was sufficient to tinge her sadness with happiness. They
rested at short intervals, for the exertion soon began to tell upon
them, but upon him the more. They slaked their thirst from the river.
To the woman it seemed a spring-time stroll through flowering fields,
softened by the sweet sadness of May. To him it was a task that
brought them step by step nearer to the end, where he must deal
her the crudest blow of her life. For at the end she expected news of
her father. She would hear it, and from the one who would have
been the most glad to spare her. But she must not know yet. All her
strength was needed for the task before her. It is time to break
hearts when their breaking can be no longer deferred.
He had been trudging ahead. He must have suspected that she
observed the labor with which he walked, the uncontrollable
tendency of his knees to give way, the reeling that now would send
him against the bank, and then upon the outer edge of the grade;
for presently he asked her to walk ahead. She complied.
Their slow and laborious work presently made it impossible for
them to talk. They went on in silence. After they had proceeded thus
for some hours, a thing occurred that struck dismay to her soul. Her
companion suddenly became voluble. At first he was coherent,
although he talked about matters to which she was a total stranger.
This showed an alarming unconsciousness of her presence. As he
talked, he became more and more incoherent, and at times laughed
inanely. Presently, with awe in his voice, he said,—
“She was the woman I loved. She’s dead, boys, she’s dead; and
by God! they killed her.”
Her spirit sank. After all that she had hoped and yearned for, there
now had come back the most terrible of the ghosts of the bitter
past. After all the seeming bridging of the chasm that had separated
them, it opened now all the wider and deeper and darker.
“Do you know what a murderer is?” he exclaimed in a loud voice,
as he swung his arm threateningly aloft. “A she-wolf, the slyest and
most dangerous of beasts. She comes whining and fawning; she
licks your hand; she wins your trust. And then, when you have
warmed her, and patched her torn skin, and mended her broken
bones, she turns upon you and tears out your heart with her fangs.”
Stifling, faint, barely able to stand, the young woman stood aside,
and he passed her without seeing her.
“Yes,” he resumed in great excitement, “I must be a man,—always
a man. What! kill a woman? No, no, no! Not that. That would be
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

ebookultra.com