Free Stories of Erskine Caldwell by Erskine Caldwell Page B

with her cheeks as though she were trying to wipe something from them. Her father’s footsteps grew fainter, and at last we could no longer hear him.
    Somewhere below us, along the bank of the river, an express train crashed down the valley, creaking and screaming through the night. Occasionally its lights flashed through the openings in the darkness, dancing on the broad green river like polar lights in the north, and the metallic echo of its steel rumbled against the high walls of the mountains.
    Gretchen clasped her hands tightly over my hand, trembling to her fingertips.
    “Richard, why did you come to see me?”
    Her voice was mingled with the screaming metallic echo of the train that now seemed far off.
    I had expected to find her looking up into my face, but when I turned to her, I saw that she was gazing far down into the valley, down into the warm waters of the river. She knew why I had come, but she did not wish to hear me say why I had.
    I do not know why I had come to see her, now. I had liked Gretchen, and I had desired her above anyone else I knew. But I could not tell her that I loved her, after having heard her father speak of love. I was sorry I had come, now after having heard him speak of Gretchen’s mother as he did. I knew Gretchen would give herself to me, because she loved me; but I had nothing to give her in return. She was beautiful, very beautiful, and I had desired her. That was before. Now, I knew that I could never again think of her as I had come prepared.
    “Why did you come, Richard?”
    “Why?”
    “Yes, Richard; why?”
    My eyes closed, and what I felt was the memory of the star-pointed lights twinkling down in the valley and the warmth of the river flowing below and the caress of her fingers as she touched my arm.
    “Richard, please tell me why you came.”
    “I don’t know why I came, Gretchen.”
    “If you only loved me as I love you, Richard, you would know why.”
    Her fingers trembled in my hand. I knew she loved me. There had been no doubt in my mind from the first. Gretchen loved me.
    “Perhaps I should not have come,” I said. “I made a mistake, Gretchen. I should have stayed away.”
    “But you will be here only for tonight, Richard. You are leaving early in the morning. You aren’t sorry that you came for just this short time, are you, Richard?”
    “I’m not sorry that I am here, Gretchen, but I should not have come. I didn’t know what I was doing. I haven’t any right to come here. People who love each other are the only ones —”
    “But you do love me just a little, don’t you, Richard? You couldn’t possibly love me nearly so much as I love you, but can’t you tell me that you do love me just a little? I’ll feel much happier after you have gone, Richard.”
    “I don’t know,” I said, trembling.
    “Richard, please —”
    With her hands in mine I held her tightly. Suddenly I felt something coming over me, a thing that stabbed my body with its quickness. It was as if the words her father had uttered were becoming clear to me. I had not realized before that there was such a love as he had spoken of. I had believed that men never loved women in the same way that a woman loved a man, but now I knew there could be no difference.
    We sat silently, holding each other’s hands for a long time. It was long past midnight, because the lights in the valley below were being turned out; but time did not matter.
    Gretchen clung softly to me, looking up into my face and laying her cheek against my shoulder. She was as much mine as a woman ever belongs to a man, but I knew then that I could never force myself to take advantage of her love, and to go away knowing that I had not loved her as she loved me. I had not believed any such thing when I came. I had traveled all that distance to hold her in my arms for a few hours, and then to forget her, perhaps forever.
    When it was time for us to go into the house, I got up and put my arms around her. She trembled when