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Assessment for
Experiential Learning
Cecilia Ka Yuk Chan is the Head of Professional Development at the Centre for
the Enhancement of Teaching and Learning (CETL) and Associate Professor at
the Faculty of Education in The University of Hong Kong (HKU). Dr. Chan has
a dual cultural background; she was born in Hong Kong but grew up in Ireland.
In addition to her dual cultural background, she also has a dual discipline exper-
tise in engineering and education; she has been playing a key role in enhancing
engineering education, as well as teaching and learning in higher education. Her
combined expertise in these felds and multi-cultural experience enabled her to
lead and conduct research on topics such as assessment, feedback, experiential
learning and the development and assessment of 21st century skills. Dr. Chan is
involved in over 40 research projects worldwide. She is the Founding President
of the Asian Society for Engineering Education (AsiaSEE).
Routledge Research in Education
This series aims to present the latest research from right across the feld of educa-
tion. It is not confned to any particular area or school of thought and seeks to pro-
vide coverage of a broad range of topics, theories and issues from around the world.
DOI: 10.4324/9781003018391
Typeset in Galliard
by codeMantra
Contents
Index 349
Figures
Universities used to assess what was taught and what was easy to test, and in
some they still do. This led to a focus on relatively low-level knowledge tested at
the end of courses. This encouraged students to delay study until close to their
examination and prompted them to adopt strategies of memorisation. However,
they have gradually recognised that this promotes a very restricted curriculum
which does not refect the full range of learning outcomes that are needed to
produce graduates who can adapt to the demands of a complex world.
Most disciplines, especially those aligned to professions, have broadened their
assessment strategies and few now rely solely on fnal examinations. The focus
has moved to broadening what students learn. For example, the soft skills of
communication and working cooperatively with others have taken on greater
importance. Much of this change cannot be accommodated in traditional
lecture-based courses. New learning modes and activities have been established
appropriate for the outcomes being sought. Hands-on active approaches to
teaching and learning have been adopted. Some of these involve students in
real-world situations outside the educational institution in business, industry or
the community. Students learn in the settings where work happens in response
to the needs they meet there. Other active approaches utilise various forms of
simulation and group work on campus. A great range of terminologies, often
discipline-specifc, are used to describe these activities – placements, practicums,
work-integrated learning, teamwork, practice-sessions, etc. – which all fall under
the general heading of experiential learning. Here, the term is used generically as
a shorthand to encompass many different experience-based tasks and activities,
on campus and beyond.
What all these approaches have in common is that students learn by work-
ing with experience. Students undertake tasks that focus on the capabilities and
attributes they need to develop to be recognised as a graduate in a particular
feld. These range from well-equipped simulations of health environments where
students practice being nurses or clinicians of various kinds, to simulations of
engineering processes or stock markets, etc. Students are placed in either real
or simulated contexts in which they have to appraise the situation they fnd
there, intervene appropriately and make judgements about the effectiveness of
what they do. They learn through acting and refecting on what they do. Most
Foreword xvii
importantly, they learn in consort with others. Technical knowledge and skills
combine with interpersonal attributes to address meaningful issues. Tasks are of-
ten not individual but require collaboration with others, be they fellow students
or others they may encounter in a particular context.
Assessing the learning outcomes of such work requires us to think beyond
conventional tests and exams, although there are places where technical knowl-
edge of such practices is still useful. The range and scope of what needs to be
judged are far greater than individual disciplinary knowledge or what can be
judged through simple written assignments. Graduate attributes and transferable
skills now take greater prominence.
As the extent of such experiential activities has increased and as the formal
establishing of course learning outcomes has acknowledged their importance,
demands on assessment have never been greater. It is not a straightforward mat-
ter of applying what we already know about test construction and the design of
unseen examinations, but confronting major new challenges: How can hard-to-
assess outcomes be evaluated? What new ways of thinking are required if what
is to be learned does not reside within a given course unit? How can assessment
be designed in ways that do not undermine the very kinds of learning that are
being promoted?
Cecilia Chan has been grappling with these issues with success for many years.
In this book, she has brought together key ideas from the literature and from her
own research and the practice of herself and her colleagues. This is a substantial
undertaking as this area is fraught with diverse and conficting terminology, a
lack of consensus on key ideas and a dearth of good quality research. Her book
helps the reader navigate the pathways of assessment and experience-based learn-
ing. It identifes key ideas and dilemmas: for example, how to choose appropriate
assessment practices, how to assess group work, how to involve external parties
and how to resolve tensions between refection and assessment? It is a valua-
ble sourcebook which brings together practices from different disciplines which
hitherto have not been discussed in one place. It provides ways of thinking about
how generic attributes and discipline-specifc learning can be assessed within
one course.
This book provides a stimulus for discussion on a challenging topic. It enables
us to take more thoughtful approaches to the assessment of an increasingly im-
portant aspect of higher education.
David Boud
Prologue
Introduction
The wide-ranging defnitions and ever-enhancing approaches in experiential
learning, exacerbated by a lack of unifed theories and frameworks, often cloud
teachers as to what defnes and constitutes the term “experiential learning.”
For reasons of consistency, the term “experiential learning” is adopted in this
book as a general, descriptive term to refer to a broad range of activities that
centre on the intentioned process of learning where “experience [is consti-
tuted] as a form of knowledge” (Usher, 1993, p. 169). Using this term as the
generic term is by no means to underplay other equally important terms such as
experience-based education or work-integrated learning. The term experiential
learning is used as it is the most commonly known term to describe these activ-
ities in Hong Kong and many parts of Asia. As this book focuses on assessment,
I didn’t want to turn the readers’ attention to the ambiguities that arise from
the conceptualisations of the experiential learning terminologies. Thus, this
frst chapter begins by putting together how educational scholars, teachers and
students understand and experience experiential learning. This may help teach-
ers and students uncloud the concept of experiential learning when they create,
build and plan their own activities and focus the design on the more vital areas
of “experiencing,” “refecting,” “clasping,” “applying” and “feedforwarding.”
DOI: 10.4324/9781003018391-1
2 What IS and IS Not Experiential Learning?
In the words of Lewis and Williams (1994, p. 5): “In its simplest form,
experiential learning means learning from experience or learning by doing.
Experiential education frst immerses learners in an experience and then
encourages refection about the experience to develop new skills, new atti-
tudes, or new ways of thinking.”
“Nowadays, Hong Kong society and teenagers do not lack knowledge and
information. What we lack is the wisdom in applying knowledge, which is
important for solving problems in different settings. Experiential learning
provides the perfect opportunity for students in this regard.” Prof. Sam-
son Tse (Dean of Student Affairs/Former Associate Dean, Faculty of Social
Sciences, University of Hong Kong)
“At the end of the term when they present their projects to the class, the
clients and other professors, I have the privilege of witnessing how much
my students have matured. They have incredible pride and increased conf-
dence in their work.” “Experiential learning and the opportunity to see my
students thrive are priceless.” Prof. Meral Demirbag Büyükkurt (Professor
in the Department of Supply Chain and Business Technology Management,
The University of Concordia)
Anthony from the School of Public Health and Health Systems at the Uni-
versity of Waterloo takes her students out of the classroom so that they
can have face-to-face conversations with Duff, a man who lived on the
streets for more than three years. She also brings them to local shelters,
and even to federal prisons. “It’s intense and personal. But I want stu-
dents to know that it’s reality, it’s their world,”; “It’s also their place
in the world and their responsibility as citizens to engage in the com-
munity,”; “I want my class to change the way students think about the
world and about health. For better or worse, or better and worse, I want
them to see the world, and their responsibilities in it, more clearly.” Ms.
Kelly Anthony (Lecturer, School of Public Health and Health Systems,
University of Waterloo)
“Experiential learning is intense and often messy, but that messiness helps
students understand and master the concepts that they’re learning in the
lecture hall.” Dr. Kate Trimble (Senior Associate Dean and Director, Offce
of Experiential Learning, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, MIT)
4 What IS and IS Not Experiential Learning?
“Only so much can be taught, the rest must be learned through experi-
ence.” Dr. Adam Barsky (Edward Brown Award for Teaching Excellence
recipient, Associate Professor, Faculty of Business and Economics, The Uni-
versity of Melbourne)
“To me, experiential learning is to touch upon the real world, and to learn
about what is said to be possible in the textbooks but rarely implemented
perfectly in the real world.” And “I think my experiential learning experi-
ence was indeed a practical one, because I could apply what I have learnt
from Public Administration, such as the collaborative dynamics between
the government, the private sector and the third sector into my experiential
learning experience.” Karen Chung (Student, Department of Public Ad-
ministration, Faculty of Social Sciences, The University of Hong Kong)
“Over my one-semester abroad, I got the chance to make friends with people
from all over the world. […] What’s more, as a university student, I experienced
the different teaching styles at Queen’s University and The Chinese University
of Hong Kong. I do believe that I will become more proactive, considerate, and
creative from now on, thanks to my experience as an exchange student.” (Stu-
dent, Faculty of Science, Chinese University of Hong Kong)
“In fall of 2018, I went into Sustainability 350 not knowing what to expect.
All I knew was that I would be required to volunteer at Ginkgo Organic
Garden. What started out as ‘extra work’ quickly turned into an experience
that changed my life. I learned about all the different areas of sustainability
while committing myself to helping our environment. Lifelong friends were
made, and I still volunteer on my own time because it makes me feel good
to know I can make a difference. Help because you want to, not because you
are being asked to. You will feel the change.” (Student, Human Resource
Management programme, Roosevelt University, 2021)
Benefts for Teachers (Boose, 2004; Cantor, 1995; Faculty of Health Univer-
sity of York, n.d.; Fenton & Gallant, 2016; Ngai, 2006; Pan et al., 2018; Univer-
sity of New Brunswick, 2014)
Benefts for Students (Boose, 2004; Faculty of Health University of York, n.d.;
Fenton and Gallant, 2016; Ngai, 2006; Pan et al., 2018; University of New
Brunswick, 2014)
Relevancy – students often criticise the university curriculum for being irrele-
vant to the real-world for example, “too many theories, not enough practice,”
“too conceptual,” “teachers do not know what is going on in the real-world,”
“my professor is still teaching me something that was used twenty years ago” –
these criticisms can be found in many student experience evaluation reports in
universities. Teachers are sometimes bounded by policies of the accreditation
bodies or universities and may fnd it diffcult to introduce a curriculum which
is more “authentic” and “relevant.” Experiential learning differs in that it allows
students to take what they have learnt and apply them frst-hand. The learning
processes, either good or bad, are more meaningful for them as they experience
them and develop their own relevance.
Mistakes are Valuable – In life, trial and error cannot be avoided. Students
should be given opportunities to make mistakes, to learn not to fear them, but
to fnd value in them instead. The process of learning is more important than the
results. Experiential learning allows that.
Actual Experience – Practice makes perfect – that is a fact. Each student has
unique prior experiences and personalities, and how they interpret and inter-
act with their experience varies. In experiential learning, teachers and parents
have to learn how to let go and allow our students to learn and develop by
experiencing. That is the actual value within experiential learning.
Challenges for Teachers (Austin & Rust, 2015; Fenton & Gallant, 2016;
Pan et al., Koh, 2018)
• Accommodate changes in long-standing teaching practices;
• Workload often concentrates on the organisation of the activity;
• Constant and unexpected changes may arise in the course of the activity;
• More guidance for students is needed;
• More time commitment and workload required, especially when the curric-
ulum is frst implemented;
• Diffculties in ensuring the quality of experiential learning programmes and
the delivery of learning outcomes;
• Tensions between research and heavier workload for experiential
education;
• Diffculties in developing mechanisms for assessment and evaluation, such
as setting assessment rubrics and maintaining consistency;
• The teacher’s role is different in experiential learning activities and they have
less control.
Challenges for Students (Fenton & Gallant, 2016; Pan et al. 2018)
• More time and effort required than the conventional mode of learning;
• Frustration with new teaching and learning styles, different learning envi-
ronments and unfamiliar assessment standards;
• More responsibility for their own learning;
• Some students may be unable to understand the benefts of experiential
learning or why they are participating in some activities;
• Students (both high or low performance) often dislike group work and col-
laboration (Chang & Brickman, 2018; Matthews, 1992).
Questions to Ponder
Personal Refection
Note
1 Holistic competency is defned by the authors (Chan & Yeung, 2020) as an umbrella
term for generic skills (e.g. teamwork, self-management and creativity), attitudes (e.g.
resilience and hardworking) and virtues (e.g. respect, honesty and dignity).
14 What IS and IS Not Experiential Learning?
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2 Experiential Learning
Theories and Frameworks
With academic knowledge, there is deep and surface approach to learning, with
holistic competency, there is engagement and avoidance approach to development.
– Chan, CKY
Introduction
Understanding the history of experiential learning and how it came about in
education may sometimes provide us with thought-provoking perspectives. The
interrelationship and connectedness between frameworks, built upon a combi-
nation of theories, can help teachers and scholars fnd their own paths in design-
ing their curricula or research studies. In fact, the general concept of learning
through experience has been around for a long time – philosophers and scholars
from East to West have long identifed that “to learn is to do.” The renowned
Chinese philosopher Confucius (520 BC) presented us with an important mes-
sage about learning:
Relating this simple quote to some of our current teaching and learning ap-
proaches tells us that if students passively listen to a lecture, most knowledge
(in a colloquial sense) will go in one ear and out the other. Watching a video or
a PowerPoint presentation may make things a bit more interesting and memo-
rable, but for learning to truly take place, experience and practice are needed.
Aristotle also wrote in the Nichomachean Ethics over 2,300 years ago (i.e.
about 350 BC):
“for the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing
them”,
DOI: 10.4324/9781003018391-2
18 Experiential Learning Theories
“When you know something, but you don’t act on it, your knowledge of
it is still superfcial. After you’ve personally experienced it, your knowledge
of it will be much clearer and its signifcance will be different from what it
used to be.”
Zhu Xi (Gallant Ho Experiential Learning Centre, 2021)
“If you have doubts about how learning happens, engage in sustained in-
quiry: study, ponder, consider alternative possibilities and arrive at your be-
lief grounded in evidence.”
Other educational psychologists such as Kurt Lewin, Jean Piaget, Lev Vygotsky,
Carl Jung, Paulo Friere and William James also place experience as the cen-
tre of their learning theories. Piaget (1999) emphasises learning as a lifelong
process of discovering knowledge, and the assimilation and accommodation of
learning from experience and knowledge. Lewin (1946) coined the term “action
research” and described it as a “circle of planning, action and fact-fnding about
the result of the action.”
JOEY and I slept that night at Cedar Dale, and the next morning as
early as might be I obtained permission to visit Wanza in the village
jail. We looked into each other’s eyes for a beating moment, and
then I had her hands in mine and was whispering, “Courage,
courage, Wanza.”
The color surged into her white cheeks, and her eyes blazed.
“Do you think I did it, David Dale?” she whispered painfully.
“Wanza—child—what sort of confession have you made?”
“I told them I was the only one who knew anything about it. I told
them it was a shot from my revolver that killed Mr. Batterly. They
showed me the revolver Mrs. Batterly’s attorney had, that you found
in the hollow stump, and I swore it was mine. And so they put me in
here to wait for a trial. But they let her go. It was on her account that
I told what I did. I never said I killed him—never!”
“My poor, poor, girl!”
“Hush! Please don’t! Don’t say a word! Oh, I don’t want to break
down—I been through a lot—a lot! I’ll tell you all now—all, Mr. Dale!
It was like this. That day at Hidden Lake Randall Batterly found me
there alone. He was drunk—very drunk. I had just come in and I
thought Mrs. Batterly had gone to Roselake as she had intended. I
told him so when he asked for her. And—when he thought there was
no one about he began saying all sorts of silly things. Truly, Mr. Dale,
I had never spoken to him but just three times in the village—just to
be civil. But he said some downright disgusting things that day, and
he put his arms around me, and he held me tight, and he—he kissed
me twice—oh, so fierce like! though I struck him hard. I got
frightened. I saw he was so drunk he could scarcely stand. Mrs.
Batterly’s revolver was lying on the table. I motioned to it. ‘Don’t
touch me again, Mr. Batterly,’ I screamed, ‘or I’ll shoot myself.’ I think
I was almost out of my head with fright. I turned to run from the room
when he caught my arm. I had my own revolver in the pocket of my
sweater coat, and I pulled it out quick as a flash. ‘Come,’ he said,
looking ugly, ‘give me that revolver! Give it here! Don’t be a fool.’ We
had a scuffle and he had just wrenched the revolver away from me,
when, oh, Mr. Dale, it slipped from his hands and struck the floor
hard, and went off. He had been grinning at me because he had got
the revolver in his own hands, and he stood there still grinning for a
second—oh, an awful second—and then he just crumpled up and
dropped on the floor at my feet, dead, dead, dead!”
It was impossible for Wanza to go on for a moment or two. And when
she continued, at length, after a paroxysm of sobbing, my arm was
around her, and her poor drooping head was against my shoulder.
“When I saw that he was dead, Mr. Dale, I picked up my revolver,
and I ran as fast as I could out of the cabin and hid in the underbrush
by the lake. By and by I spied Mrs. Batterly’s canoe, and I got in and
paddled away as fast as I could. I remembered the hollow stump,
because I’d gone there for Mrs. Batterly with fudge for Joey; and
when I saw it I just popped the revolver inside. Then I hid the canoe
among the willows and started to walk to Roselake. I kept to the
woods along the river road until I heard the stage coming, and then I
thought ‘I’ll go to Sister Veronica at the Old Mission.’ And I ran out
and hailed it, and got in. When the stage got to De Smet that
evening a man got in, and I heard him tell the driver that Mrs.
Batterly had been arrested for the murder of her husband. So then I
knew I had to tell the truth and take the blame or they’d keep her in
jail and drag her through an awful trial, and I knew what that would
mean to you, Mr. Dale.”
I pressed her head closer against my shoulder. “Wanza,” I said, “you
are a noble girl.”
The tears welled up in the cornflower blue eyes.
“Oh, Mr. Dale, you do believe that Mr. Batterly was most respectful to
me whenever I met him in the village! He was very polite and
respectful. I never spoke to him but three times. Once dad was with
me, and once Joey, and once I was alone.”
There was something piteous in her asseveration.
“I am sure he was respectful, child.”
“I wanted to die the minute he spoke too bold to me when he found
me there alone at Hidden Lake.”
“I well know that, Wanza.”
“Marna of the quick disdain,
Starting at the dream of stain!”
I cleared my throat and spoke as hopefully as I could. “Let us forget
as well as we can, little girl. Let us look forward to your release. You
will tell the truth at the trial, and you will be believed. And then—you
will forget—you will start all over again! You must let me help you,
Wanza, in many ways. I have a piece of good news for you even
now. I have found Joey.”
But I did not tell her Joey’s story, until my next visit.
I learned from Haidee’s attorney that Randall Batterly had been
buried in Roselake cemetery, and that Mrs. Olds had been sent for
and was staying with Haidee. That afternoon Buttons carried a
double burden over the trail to Hidden Lake. I went in alone to
Haidee, leaving Joey in the woods. My heart was too overcharged
for free speech, but I told Haidee that I had found Joey in an
abandoned cabin and I told her all that Wanza had told me of the
part she had played in the accidental shooting of Randall Batterly,
and later I said to her:
“I have something strange to communicate to you. But first, I am
going to ask you if you will tell me the story of your life after you
became Randall Batterly’s wife.”
Haidee lifted her head at my request and straightened her shoulders
with an indrawn spasmodic breath. “I have always intended to tell
you my story, some day,” she answered. Lines of pain etched
themselves upon her brow.
“I think if you will tell me you will not regret it,” I replied.
“I have always intended to tell you,” she repeated. Her voice shook
but she lifted brave eyes to mine, and began her story.
“I married Randall Batterly eight years ago, when I was eighteen,
soon after my father died. He took me to Alaska, and—and Baby
was born there. When my little one was two years old, I had a very
severe attack of pneumonia. While I was still ill Mr. Batterly was
obliged to make a trip to Seattle, and it was decided that Baby was
to go with him, and be left with my mother there until I was stronger,
—I think the good nurse I had scarcely expected me to recover. Mr.
Batterly had always been a drinking man, though I was unaware of
this when I married him. On the steamer he drank so heavily that he
was in his stateroom in a drunken stupor most of the time, he
afterwards confessed. Then—there was a storm and a collision in
the night—and the ship Mr. Batterly was on went down off Cape
Flattery. Mr. Batterly was rescued by a man who shared his
stateroom—a man he had known for years. But my little boy—my
Baby—was never seen again.”
In the silence that followed, Haidee shuddered and closed her eyes,
biting her lips that were writhing and gray. After a short interval she
went on in a low, strained tone:
“Mr. Batterly and I parted soon after. My mother died that summer
and I went to Paris to study art. While in Paris last winter, in a Seattle
paper, I read of Mr. Batterly’s death at Nome. His name was
probably confused with that of his partner. I did not know he had a
partner. This spring I returned to America, and with a sudden longing
for the West I came out to visit Janet Jones in Spokane. It was then I
was obsessed with the desire to paint this beautiful river country.
Janet Jones aided and abetted me. I purchased a riding horse and
went to board on a ranch near Kingman. It was deadly. When I
walked into your workshop I had ridden all day, fully determined to
find a habitation of my own.”
I had glanced at Haidee once or twice to find that her eyes were still
closed. But now, as she finished, she opened them wide, and at the
look of misery I saw in them I cried out quickly:
“Don’t tell me any more—please—please—”
“There is nothing more to tell,” she answered dully.
“Thank you for your confidence. Before I told you all I have to tell I
thought it best to ask it of you.”
“You have something to tell me? For you things are righting—you
have found your boy! For me everything seems wrong in the world—
everything! But now—may I see Joey, please, before long?”
“Mrs. Batterly,” I asked, “may I tell you Joey’s short history?”
At my abrupt tone she turned her eyes to mine, wonderingly.
“Surely,” she replied.
“It is a pitifully meagre one. I found him sobbing on the doorstep of a
humble cabin, one night, four years ago last June. I took him in my
arms and entered the place, to find within a dying woman. She told
me that the child was a waif, picked up on the beach after a storm on
Puget Sound, by her brother, who was a fisherman, a year before.
Her brother had died six months previous and she had taken the
child. The woman passed away that night, and I carried the child
home. Mrs. Batterly, your husband gleaned this story from Wanza.
He took Joey and secreted him in a cabin, thinking the lad his child
and yours—”
Haidee broke in on my recital with a gasping cry: “My child—mine?”
“Mrs. Batterly, was there a mark on your baby’s chest—a mark you
could identify him by?”
“Yes, yes!—a bright red mark—oh, not large—the size of a quarter—
just over his heart.”
“Joey has such a mark, though it is a mark considerably larger than
a quarter—and it is higher than his heart.”
A doubt that I was ashamed of stirred my breast, seeing the
eagerness on the face before me. A doubt that returned later during
forlorn hard days to haunt me. I said to myself that I knew not even
on what shore of the great Sound Joey was discovered. But Haidee
was speaking impetuously:
“He has grown—the mark has grown too, and is higher up! I have a
scar on my forehead almost hidden by my hair that was much lower
down when I was a child.” She rose, her face working, her whole
slight figure quivering. “Oh, Mr. Dale, give me my child!”
I went to the door and gave my whistle and Joey responded. Haidee
took him in her arms, and he told his story to her much as he had
told it to me. But when he finished, he looked up in her face
questioningly:
“I won’t have to leave Mr. David, will I?” he queried. “He’s my only
really, truly daddy. He’d be terrible lonesome without me. Why, I most
guess he couldn’t get along without me, Bell Brandon!”
“Dear, dear little boy, don’t you understand? You have a mother,
now.” Haidee’s arms held him close. Her cheek rested against his.
Looking at her I hated myself for the pang I felt.
And so my little lad went out of my keeping. I left him with Haidee
and went back to take up my niggardly existence at Cedar Dale.
Anxious days ensued. My heart was heavy with thoughts of Wanza, I
could not eat nor sleep. And every day Griffith Lyttle and I consulted
together, and held wearing conclaves in the office of Wanza’s
attorney. And someway I found myself distrait and unnatural in
Haidee’s presence and consumed with bitter melancholy when
alone.
What had come over me? When I was with Haidee all my speech
was of Wanza. When I was alone all my thoughts were of her.
Haidee was free—but I realized this but dimly. The thought of
Wanza’s position was paramount. In the long night vigils I saw her
face. I recalled the look I had surprised on it once—the secret never
intended for my reading—and my compassion and wonder
overpowered me. That Wanza should care for me!—I felt like falling
on my knees in humbleness.
My loneliness was intense. I began to realize that Joey had gone out
of my life—that his place was henceforth not with me—never with
me again.
The love of a man for a small boy is composed of various
ingredients, it has spice in it, and tenderness, and pride, and hope,
and fellowship—and a lilt of melody goes through it that lightens the
most rigid days of discipline. So when the small boy goes out of the
home, the man is bereft of joy and inspiration and companionship. At
first I went daily to Hidden Lake, and Joey came daily to Cedar Dale.
But one day when Joey was begging me to make him a bow-gun I
surprised a wistful gleam in Haidee’s soft eyes. She drew the lad into
her arms.
“Mother will buy you a wonderful gun,” she promised.
“But I’d rather have Mr. David make it, Bell Brandon. I guess women
don’t know what boys like—just.”
The hurt look in the purple-black eyes went to my heart. After that I
went not so often to Hidden Lake.
I took to using Joey’s room as a sort of study. I fitted up a desk near
the window, and here I wrote on my novel, and wrought at wood
carving for the Christmas trade. Finding me here one day carving a
frame for an old photograph of Wanza, Haidee looked at me oddly,
turned swiftly and went from the room, while Joey stared eagerly,
and whispered:
“Oh, Mr. David, some day I’m coming back to stay in my dear old
room. Tain’t nice at Bell Brandon’s for a boy. They’s a white spread
on the bed, and blue ribbons to tie back the curtains. And when the
coyotes holler Bell Brandon’s frightened too.”
Later on the porch at parting, Haidee said to me:
“Have you worked long on the frame you are carving for Wanza’s
picture?”
“Since—oh, I began it about the time Joey was lost,” I answered.
She looked at me curiously.
“Wanza is very lovely in that picture.”
“She is. She is growing more beautiful every day,” I answered
thoughtfully; “her soul shines in her face. I realize each time I see her
how her character is rounding—how sturdy and fine she is in her
trouble.”
After Haidee had gone I recalled the look she had flung at me as she
turned and went down the steps, saying:
“Wanza is very fortunate to have you for a friend, very fortunate
indeed.”
I asked myself what her look had meant.
Another week passed. I finished my novel. And one day soon after I
rode to Roselake, expressed the manuscript to a publishing firm, and
rode homeward feeling that my affairs were on the knees of the
gods.
Not far from Cedar Dale I left the road and took the trail that led
through the woods. In the woods I dismounted and went forward
slowly, my horse’s bridle on my arm. It was a gray day, lightened by
a yellow haze. I was enraptured with the peculiar light that came
through the trees. The foliage about me was copper and flame.
Presently I heard voices, and looking through the trees I saw Haidee
and Joey. They were kneeling in a little open space, gathering pine
cones. Haidee was bareheaded and her sleeves were rolled back,
exposing her round, white arms. Her figure was lithe and supple as
she knelt there, her drooping face full of witchery and charm.
I had an opportunity to observe Joey well. His face was thinner, his
carriage not so gallant as formerly. There was less buoyancy in his
voice. Something sprightly was missing in his whole aspect,—a
certain confidence and dare. He was not the Cedar Dale elf I had
known. What had changed him so?
I went forward and Joey cried out and hurled himself into my arms.
Haidee stood up and drew the lad to her with a nervous motion.
“Joey,” I said, “run away and see what Jingles is barking at so
furiously. A fat rabbit has just escaped him.”
Joey bounded away shrieking with excitement. I studied Haidee
deliberately as her eyes followed the childish figure. Her eyes were
brooding and solemn and sweet as she watched, but there was a
shadow on her brow.
“Too bad,” I said speaking out my thought, “for Joey’s mother to be
jealous of me.”
“Do you think that of me?” she faltered.
“He is all yours—no one on the face of the earth has the slightest
claim on him excepting yourself.”
Our eyes met; hers were startled yet defiant; and I am afraid mine
were a trifle accusing.
“Do not speak to me like this—do not dare!” Then suddenly she
softened. “But you are right—perhaps. When I think of the days and
months you had him and I was bereft—when I think how much you
mean to him—more than I mean—oh, it hurts! I am a wretch.”
“No, no,” I said hastily. “I did not understand, that is all.”
“You have not understood—and it has altered your manner to me,
that is it, is it not? You have thought me weak, and selfish, and
ungrateful. Well, I am not ungrateful; but I have been selfish. I have
thought not enough of you and Joey. But now I have confessed, and
I shall be more considerate.” Her hand came out to me. “Let us
shake hands.” Tears were in her eyes.
I took her hand with shame and contrition. I reached home utterly
miserable. Had Haidee changed or had I changed? What had come
over us? The spontaneity and warmth had seeped from our
friendship. There seemed to be a shadow between us that each was
futile to lift.
I said to myself that when I heard from my novel—if the word was
favorable—I should go to her—I could at least tell her of my hopes
for the future—I could lay my love at her feet. All should be made
plain; the cloud should be dispersed.
And so the weeks went past.
CHAPTER XXIII
WHEN CHRISTMAS CAME
ONE day close on to Christmas, Wanza was tried for the murder of
Randall Batterly, and after a record-breaking trial that lasted but five
hours, acquitted. The verdict said that Randall Batterly was killed by
the accidental discharge of a revolver dropped by his own hand.
In the twilight of that strange day I drove Wanza to her home, where
old Grif Lyttle awaited her. It was a gray twilight, the snow was drifted
into gleaming heaps on either side of the road, the river crawled
darkly along between its fleecy banks. We found no words to say at
first, but when I heard a sob in Wanza’s throat I turned and put my
arm across her shoulders.
“There, there, Wanza!” I whispered, soothingly.
She wept quietly. Presently she said, between smiles and tears:
“It will soon be Christmas. I will try to give father a good Christmas,
Mr. Dale.”
“There, there, Wanza,” I said, again.
She drew away, and with both hands pushed back the hood that she
had drawn over her face on leaving the jail.
“Mrs. Batterly wants to send me away, soon after Christmas—away
back East to school—where I can forget,” she faltered.
Her blue eyes widened to great round wells of misery, the tears
rained down her altered cheeks.
“You will forget,” I soothed her; “it was an accident, my dear.”
“Oh, but Mr. Dale, I felt that I could kill him—for being so
disrespectful to me—for speaking so bold—for kissing me! I had
murder in my heart! I remember one night in the woods when we
were gipsying—do you mind it, Mr. Dale?—you took my hands, and I
thought you was going to kiss me, you looked at me so long, but you
didn’t—you respected me too much! Why if you had ’a kissed me—
not loving me—Mr. Dale, it would’a killed me. And I think I could
almost ’a killed you.”
I looked into her face, and suddenly I was back again in the wind-
stirred forest with the black elf-locks of a gipsy wench brushing my
lips, her hands held close, her eyes, burningly blue, lifted to mine in
the firelight. I heard her voice whispering: “If I was a gipsy, and you
was a gipsy things would be different.” I recalled the words of the
song I had sung:
“Marna of the wind’s will,
Daughter of the sea—”
I sighed. Marna of the wind’s will, indeed!
This conversation left a sore spot in my heart. I was dejected and
miserable for days. The day before Christmas arrived and late in the
afternoon I rode into Roselake. I purchased some bolts for a sled I
was making for Joey, got my mail, and returned home at dusk.
I built a fire at once in the fireplace in the front room, and went over
my mail eagerly by the light of my green-shaded lamp. One envelope
bore the New York postmark, and I opened it with nervous fingers. I
read the communication it contained, and sat, a warm, surging joy
transfusing my whole being. The publishing firm in New York had
accepted my novel for publication, and the terms mentioned were
generous beyond my wildest visionings.
There was another communication that I read over and over; and as
I read I knew that I was free at last—yes, free forever—free to ask
any woman in the world to be my wife; I knew that the search light of
justice could be turned on a folded page of my past that had long
been hidden, and that there would be no tarnish on the page. For the
letter said that my poor old father was dead, and in dying had
confessed to a forgery committed eight years ago—a crime which
his son had tacitly admitted himself to be guilty of when he had