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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18478-8.txt b/18478-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f54cf53 --- /dev/null +++ b/18478-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13833 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of John Ward, Preacher, by Margaret Deland + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Ward, Preacher + +Author: Margaret Deland + +Release Date: May 31, 2006 [EBook #18478] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN WARD, PREACHER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + JOHN WARD, PREACHER + + BY MARGARET DELAND + + AUTHOR OF "THE OLD GARDEN" + + + + + I sent my soul through the invisible, + Some letter of that after-life to spell; + And by and by my soul returned to me, + And answered, "I myself am Heav'n and Hell" + + + Omar Khayyám + + + + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + +Copyright, 1888, +By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. +_All rights reserved._ + + + + +To LORIN DELAND +This Book +ALREADY MORE HIS THAN MINE +IS DEDICATED. + +Boston, _December 25th, 1887_. + + + + +JOHN WARD, PREACHER. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The evening before Helen Jeffrey's wedding day, the whole household at +the rectory came out into the garden. + +"The fact is," said Dr. Howe, smiling good-naturedly at his niece, "the +importance of this occasion has made everybody so full of suppressed +excitement one can't breathe in the house." + +And indeed a wedding in Ashurst had all the charm of novelty. "Why, bless +my soul," said the rector, "let me see: it must be ten--no, twelve years +since Mary Drayton was married, and that was our last wedding. Well, we +couldn't stand such dissipation oftener; it would wake us up." + +But Ashurst rather prided itself upon being half asleep. The rush and +life of newer places had a certain vulgarity; haste was undignified, it +was almost ill bred, and the most striking thing about the village, +resting at the feet of its low green hills, was its atmosphere of leisure +and repose. + +Its grassy road was nearly two miles long, so that Ashurst seemed to +cover a great deal of ground, though there were really very few houses. +A lane, leading to the rectory, curled about the foot of East Hill at one +end of the road, and at the other was the brick-walled garden of the +Misses Woodhouse. + +Between these extremes the village had slowly grown; but its first youth +was so far past, no one quite remembered it, and even the trying stage of +middle age was over, and its days of growth were ended. This was perhaps +because of its distance from the county town, for Mercer was twelve miles +away, and there was no prospect of a railroad to unite them. It had been +talked of once; some of the shopkeepers, as well as Mr. Lash, the +carpenter, advocated it strenuously at Bulcher's grocery store in the +evenings, because, they said, they were at the mercy of Phibbs, the +package man, who brought their wares on his slow, creaking cart over the +dusty turnpike from Mercer. But others, looking into the future, objected +to a convenience which might result in a diminution of what little trade +they had. Among the families, however, who did not have to consider +"trade" there was great unanimity, though the Draytons murmured something +about the increased value of the land; possibly not so much with a view +to the welfare of Ashurst as because their property extended along the +proposed line of the road. + +The rector was very firm in his opinion. "Why," said he, mopping his +forehead with his big silk handkerchief, "what do we want with a +railroad? My grandfather never thought of such a thing, so I think I can +get along without it, and it is a great deal better for the village not +to have it." + +It would have cut off one corner of his barn; and though this could not +have interfered with the material or spiritual welfare of Ashurst, Dr. +Howe's opinion never wavered. And the rector but expressed the feelings +of the other "families," so that all Ashurst was conscious of relief when +the projectors of the railroad went no further than to make a cut at one +end of the Drayton pastures; and that was so long ago that now the earth, +which had shown a ragged yellow wound across the soft greenness of the +meadows, was sown by sweet clover and wild roses, and gave no sign of +ever having been gashed by picks and shovels. + +The Misses Woodhouse's little orchard of gnarled and wrinkled apple-trees +came to the edge of the cut on one side, and then sloped down to the +kitchen garden and back door of their old house, which in front was shut +off from the road by a high brick wall, gray with lichens, and crumbling +in places where the mortar had rotted under the creepers and ivy, which +hung in heavy festoons over the coping. The tall iron gates had not been +closed for years, and, rusting on their hinges, had pressed back against +the inner wall, and were almost hidden by the tangle of vines, that were +woven in and out of the bars, and waved about in the sunshine from their +tops. + +The square garden which the wall inclosed was full of cool, green +darkness; the trees were the growth of three generations, and the +syringas and lilacs were so thick and close they had scarcely light +enough for blossoming. The box borders, which edged the straight prim +walks, had grown, in spite of clippings, to be almost hedges, so that the +paths between them were damp, and the black, hard earth had a film of +moss over it. Old-fashioned flowers grew just where their ancestors had +stood fifty years before. "I could find the bed of white violets with my +eyes shut," said Miss Ruth Woodhouse; and she knew how far the lilies of +the valley spread each spring, and how much it would be necessary to +clip, every other year, the big arbor vitæ, so that the sunshine might +fall upon her bunch of sweet-williams. + +Miss Ruth was always very generous with her flowers, but now that there +was to be a wedding at the rectory she meant to strip the garden of every +blossom she could find, and her nephew was to take them to the church the +first thing in the morning. + +Gifford Woodhouse had lately returned from Europe, and his three years' +travel had not prepared his aunts to treat him as anything but the boy he +seemed to them when he left the law school. They still "sent dear Giff" +here, or "brought him" there, and arranged his plans for him, in entire +unconsciousness that he might have a will of his own. Perhaps the big +fellow's silence rather helped the impression, for so long as he did not +remonstrate when they bade him do this or that, it was not of so much +consequence that, in the end, he did exactly as he pleased. This was not +often at variance with the desires of the two sisters, for the wordless +influence of his will so enveloped them that his wishes were apt to be +theirs. But no one could have been more surprised than the little ladies, +had they been told that their nephew's intention of practicing law in the +lumber town of Lockhaven had been his own idea. + +They had cordially agreed with him when he observed that another lawyer +in Ashurst, beside Mr. Denner, would have no other occupation than to +make his own will; and they had nodded approvingly when the young man +added that it would seem scarcely gracious to settle in Mercer while Mr. +Denner still hoped to find clients there, and sat once a week, for an +hour, in a dingy back office waiting for them. True, they never came; but +Gifford had once read law with Mr. Denner, and knew and loved the little +gentleman, so he could not do a thing which might appear discourteous. +And when he further remarked that there seemed to be a good opening in +Lockhaven, which was a growing place, and that it would be very jolly to +have Helen Jeffrey there when she became Mrs. Ward, the two Misses +Woodhouse smiled, and said firmly that they approved of it, and that they +would send him to Lockhaven in the spring, and they were glad they had +thought of it. + +On this June night, they had begged him to take a message to the rectory +about the flowers for the wedding. "He is glad enough to go, poor child," +said Miss Deborah, sighing, when she saw the alacrity with which he +started; "he feels her marriage very much, though he is so young." + +"Are you sure, dear Deborah?" asked Miss Ruth, doubtfully. "I never +really felt quite certain that he was interested in her." + +"Certainly I am," answered Miss Deborah, sharply. "I've always maintained +they were made for each other." + +But Gifford Woodhouse's pleasant gray eyes, under straight brown brows, +showed none of the despair of an unsuccessful lover; on the contrary, he +whistled softly through his blonde moustache, as he came along the +rectory lane, and then walked down the path to join the party in the +garden. + +The four people who had gathered at the foot of the lawn were very +silent; Dr. Howe, whose cigar glowed and faded like a larger firefly than +those which were beginning to spangle the darkness, was the only one +ready to talk. "Well," he said, knocking off his cigar ashes on the arm +of his chair, "everything ready for to-morrow, girls? Trunks packed and +gowns trimmed? We'll have to keep you, Helen, to see that the house is +put in order after all this turmoil; don't you think so, Lois?" + +Here the rector yawned secretly. + +"You needn't worry about _order_, father," Lois said, lifting her head +from her cousin's shoulder, her red lower lip pouting a little, "but I +wish we could keep Helen." + +"Do you hear that, Mr. Ward?" the rector said. "Yes, we're all going to +miss the child very much. Gifford Woodhouse was saying to-day Ashurst +would lose a great deal when she went. There's a compliment for you, +Helen! How that fellow has changed in these three years abroad! He's +quite a man, now. Why, how old is he? It's hard for us elders to realize +that children grow up." + +"Giff is twenty-six," Lois said. + +"Why, to be sure," said Dr. Howe, "so he is! Of course, I might have +known it: he was born the year your brother was, Lois, and he would have +been twenty-six if he'd lived. Nice fellow, Gifford is. I'm sorry he's +not going to practice in Mercer. He has a feeling that it might interfere +with Denner in some way. But dear me, Denner never had a case outside +Ashurst in his life. Still, it shows good feeling in the boy; and I'm +glad he's going to be in Lockhaven. He'll keep an eye on Helen, and let +us know if she behaves with proper dignity. I think you'll like him, Mr. +Ward,--I would say John,--my dear fellow!" + +There was a lack of sympathy on the part of the rector for the man at his +side, which made it difficult for him to drop the formal address, and +think of him as one of the family. "I respect Ward," he said once to his +sister,--"I can't help respecting him; but bless my soul, I wish he was +more like other people!" There was something about the younger man, Dr. +Howe did not know just what, which irritated him. Ward's earnestness was +positively aggressive, he said, and there seemed a sort of undress of the +mind in his entire openness and frankness; his truthfulness, which +ignored the courteous deceits of social life, was a kind of impropriety. + +But John Ward had not noticed either the apology or the omission; no one +answered the rector, so he went on talking, for mere occupation. + +"I always liked Gifford as a boy," he said; "he was such a manly fellow, +and no blatherskite, talking his elders to death. He never had much to +say, and when he did talk it was to the point. I remember once seeing +him--why, let me see, he couldn't have been more than fifteen--breaking a +colt in the west pasture. It was one of Bet's fillies, and as black as a +coal: you remember her, don't you, Lois?--a beauty! I was coming home +from the village early in the morning; somebody was sick,--let me see, +wasn't it old Mrs. Drayton? yes,--and I'd been sent for; it must have +been about six,--and there was Gifford struggling with that young mare in +the west pasture. He had thrown off his coat, and caught her by the mane +and a rope bridle, and he was trying to ride her. That blonde head of his +was right against her neck, and when she reared he clung to her till she +lifted him off his feet. He got the best of her, though, and the first +thing she knew he was on her back. Jove! how she did plunge! but he +mastered her; he sat superbly. I felt Gifford had the making of a man in +him, after that. He inherits his father's pluck. You know Woodhouse made +a record at Lookout Mountain; he was killed the third day." + +"Gifford used to say," said Helen, "that he wished he had been born in +time to go into the army." + +"There's a good deal of fight in the boy," said the rector, chuckling. +"His aunts were always begging him not to get into rows with the village +boys. I even had to caution him myself. 'Never fight, sir,' I'd say; 'but +if you do fight, whip 'em!' Yes, it's a pity he couldn't have been in the +army." + +"Well," said Lois, impatiently, "Giff would have fought, I know, but +he's so contradictory! I've heard him say the Southerners couldn't help +fighting for secession; it was a principle to them, and there was no +moral wrong about it, he said." + +"Oh, nonsense!" cried the rector; "these young men, who haven't borne the +burden and heat of the day, pretend to instruct us, do they? No moral +wrong? I thought Gifford had some sense! They were condemned by God and +man." + +"But, uncle Archie," Helen said, slowly, "if they thought they were +right, you can't say there was a moral wrong?" + +"Oh, come, come," said Dr. Howe, with an indignant splutter, "you don't +understand these things my dear,--you're young yet, Helen. They were +wrong through and through; so don't be absurd." Then turning half +apologetically to John Ward, he added, "You'll have to keep this child's +ideas in order; I'm sure she never heard such sentiments from me. Mr. +Ward will think you haven't been well brought up, Helen. Principle? +Twaddle! their pockets were what they thought of. All this talk of +principle is rubbish." + +The rector's face was flushed, and he brought his fist down with emphasis +upon the arm of his chair. + +"And yet," said John Ward, lifting his thoughtful dark eyes to Dr. Howe's +handsome face, "I have always sympathized with a mistaken idea of duty, +and I am sure that many Southerners felt they were only doing their duty +in fighting for secession and the perpetuation of slavery." + +"I don't agree with you, sir," said Dr. Howe, whose ideas of hospitality +forbade more vigorous speech, but his bushy gray eyebrows were drawn into +a frown. + +"I think you are unfair not to admit that," John continued with gentle +persistence, while the rector looked at him in silent astonishment, and +the two young women smiled at each other in the darkness. ("The idea of +contradicting father!" Lois whispered.) "They felt," he went on, "that +they had found authority for slavery in the Bible, so what else could +they do but insist upon it?" + +"Nonsense," said Dr. Howe, forgetting himself, "the Bible never taught +any such wicked thing. They believed in states rights, and they wanted +slavery." + +"But," John said, "if they did believe the Bible permitted slavery, what +else could they do? Knowing that it is the inspired word of God, and that +every action of life is to be decided by it, they had to fight for an +institution which they believed sacred, even if their own judgment and +inclination did not concede that it was right. If you thought the Bible +taught that slavery was right, what could you do?" + +"I never could think anything so absurd," the rector answered, a shade of +contempt in his good-natured voice. + +"But if you did," John insisted, "even if you were unable to see that it +was right,--if the Bible taught it, inculcated it?" + +Dr. Howe laughed impatiently, and flung the end of his cigar down into +the bushes, where it glowed for a moment like an angry eye. "I--I? Oh, +I'd read some other part of the book," he said. "But I refuse to think +such a crisis possible; you can always find some other meaning in a text, +you know." + +"But, uncle Archie," Helen said, "if one did think the Bible taught +something to which one's conscience or one's reason could not assent, it +seems to me there could be only one thing to do,--give up the Bible!" + +"Oh, no," said Dr. Howe, "don't be so extreme, Helen. There would be many +things to do; leave the consideration of slavery, or whatever the +supposed wrong was, until you'd mastered all the virtues of the Bible: +time enough to think of an alternative then,--eh, Ward? Well, thank +Heaven, the war's over, or we'd have you a rank copperhead. Come! it's +time to go into the house. I don't want any heavy eyes for to-morrow." + +"What a speech for a minister's wife, Helen!" Lois cried, as they rose. +"What _would_ people say if they heard you announce that you 'would give +up the Bible'?" + +"I hope no one will ever hear her say anything so foolish," said Dr. +Howe, but John Ward looked at Lois in honest surprise. + +"Would it make any difference what people said?" he asked. + +"Oh, I wasn't speaking very seriously," Lois answered, laughing, "but +still, one does not like to say anything which is unusual, you know, +about such things. And of course Helen doesn't really mean that she'd +give up the Bible." + +"But I do," Helen interrupted, smiling; and she might have said more, +for she could not see John's troubled look in the darkness, but Gifford +Woodhouse came down the path to meet them and give Miss Ruth's message. + +"Just in time, young man," said the rector, as Gifford silently took some +of John's burden of shawls and cushions, and turned and walked beside +him. "Here's Helen giving Ward an awful idea of her orthodoxy; come and +vouch for the teaching you get at St. Michael's." + +Gifford laughed. "What is orthodoxy, doctor?" he said. "I'm sure I don't +know!" + +"'The hungry sheep look up and are not fed,'" quoted the rector in a +burlesque despair. "Why, what we believe, boy,--what _we_ believe! The +rest of my flock know better, Mr. Ward, I assure you." + +"I don't think we know what we do believe, uncle," Helen said lightly. + +"This grows worse and worse," said the rector. "Come, Helen, when an +intelligent young woman, I might say a bright young woman, makes a +commonplace speech, it is a mental yawn, and denotes exhaustion. You and +Lois are tired; run up-stairs. Vanish! I say. Good night, dear child, and +God bless you!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Ashurst Rectory, in a green seclusion of vines and creepers, stood close +to the lane,--Strawberry Lane it was called, because of a tradition that +wild strawberries grew there. The richness of the garden was scarcely +kept in bounds by its high fence; the tops of the bushes looked over it, +and climbing roses shed their petals on the path below, and cherries, +blossoms, and fruit were picked by the passer-by. "There is enough for us +inside," said the rector. + +The house itself was of gray stone, which seemed to have caught, where it +was not hidden by Virginia creepers and wistaria, the mellow coloring of +the sunset light, which flooded it from a gap in the western hills. Its +dormer-windows, their roofs like brown caps bent about their ears, had +lattices opening outward; and from one of these Lois Howe, on the evening +of Helen's wedding day, had seen her father wandering about the garden, +with the red setter at his heels, and had gone down to join him. + +"I wonder," she said, as she wound her round young arm in his, which was +behind him, and held his stick, "if John Ward has a garden? I hope so; +Helen is so fond of flowers. But he never said anything about it; he just +went around as though he was in a dream. He was perfectly happy if he +could only look at Helen!" + +"Well, that's right," said the rector; "that's proper. What else would +you have? The fact is, Lois, you don't like Ward. Now, he is a good +fellow; yes, good is just the word for him. Bless my soul, there's a +pitch of virtue about him that is exhausting. But that's our fault," he +added candidly. + +"Oh, I'll like him," Lois said quickly, "if he will just make Helen +happy." + +The rector shook his head. "I know how you feel," he said, "and I +acknowledge he is odd; that talk of his last night about slavery being +a righteous institution"-- + +"Oh, he didn't say that, father," Lois interrupted. + +--"was preposterous," continued Dr. Howe, not noticing her; "but +he's earnest, he's sincere, and I have a great deal of respect for +earnestness. And look here, Lois, you must not let anybody see you are +not in sympathy with Helen's choice; be careful of that tongue of yours, +child. It's bad taste to make one's private disappointments public. I +wouldn't speak of it even to your aunt Deely, if I were you." + +He stooped down to pull some matted grass from about the roots of a +laburnum-tree, whose dark leaves were lighted by golden loops of +blossoms, "Thirty-eight years ago," he said, "your mother and I planted +this; we had just come home from our wedding journey, and she had brought +this slip from her mother's garden in Virginia. But dear me, I suppose +I've told you that a dozen times. What? How to-day brings back that trip +of ours! We came through Lockhaven, but it was by stage-coach. I remember +we thought we were so fortunate because the other two passengers got out +there, and we had the coach to ourselves. Your mother had a striped +ribbon, or gauze,--I don't know what you call it,--on her bonnet, and it +kept blowing out of the window of the coach, like a little flag. You +young people can go further in less time, when you travel, but you will +never know the charm of staging it through the mountains. I declare, I +haven't thought of it for years, but to-day brings it all back to me!" + +They had reached the rectory porch, and Dr. Howe settled himself in his +wicker chair and lighted his cigar, while Lois sat down on the steps, and +began to dig small holes in the gravel with the stick her father had +resigned to her. + +The flood of soft lamplight from the open hall door threw the portly +figure of the rector into full relief, and, touching Lois's head, as she +sat in the shadow at the foot of the steps, with a faint aureole, fell in +a broad bright square on the lawn in front of the house. They had begun +to speak again of the wedding, when the click of the gate latch and the +swinging glimmer of a lantern through the lilacs and syringas warned them +that some one was coming, and in another moment the Misses Woodhouse +and their nephew stepped across the square of light. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were quite unconscious that they gave the +impression of carrying Gifford about with them, rather than of being +supported by him, for each little lady had passed a determined arm +through one of his, and instead of letting her small hand, incased in its +black silk mitt, rest upon his sleeve, pressed it firmly to her breast. + +Ashurst was a place where friendships grew in simplicity as well as +strength with the years, and because these three people had been most of +the morning at the rectory, arranging flowers, or moving furniture about, +or helping with some dainty cooking, and then had gone to the church at +noon for the wedding, they saw no reason why they should not come again +in the evening. So the sisters had put on their second-best black silks, +and, summoning Gifford, had walked through the twilight to the rectory. +Miss Deborah Woodhouse had a genius for economy, which gave her great +pleasure and involved but slight extra expense to the household, and she +would have felt it a shocking extravagance to have kept on the dress she +had worn to the wedding. Miss Ruth, who was an artist, the sisters said, +and fond of pretty things, reluctantly followed her example. + +They sat down now on the rectory porch, and began to talk, in their +eager, delicate little voices, of the day's doings. They scarcely noticed +that their nephew and Lois had gone into the fragrant dusk of the garden. +It did not interest them that the young people should wish to see, as +Gifford had said, how the sunset light lingered behind the hills; and +when they had exhausted the subject of the wedding, Miss Ruth was anxious +to ask the rector about his greenhouse and the relative value of leaf +mould and bone dressing, so they gave no thought to the two who still +delayed among the flowers. + +This was not surprising. Gifford and Lois had known each other all their +lives. They had quarreled and made up with kisses, and later on had +quarreled and made up without the kisses, but they had always felt +themselves the most cordial and simple friends. Then had come the time +when Gifford must go to college, and Lois had only seen him in his short +vacations; and these gradually became far from pleasant. "Gifford has +changed," she said petulantly. "He is so polite to me," she complained to +Helen; not that Gifford had ever been rude, but he had been brotherly. + +He once asked her for a rose from a bunch she had fastened in her dress. +"Why don't you pick one yourself, Giff?" she said simply; and afterwards, +with a sparkle of indignant tears in her eyes and with a quick impatience +which made her an amusing copy of her father, she said to Helen, "I +suppose he meant to treat me as though I was some fine young lady. Why +can't he be just the old Giff?" And when he came back from Europe, she +declared he was still worse. + +Yet even in their estrangement they united in devotion to Helen. It was +to Helen they appealed in all their differences, which were many, and her +judgment was final; Lois never doubted it, even though Helen generally +thought Gifford was in the right. So now, when her cousin had left her, +she was at least sure of the young man's sympathy. + +She was glad that he was going to practice in Lockhaven; he would be near +Helen, and make the new place less lonely for her, she said, once. And +Helen had smiled, as though she could be lonely where John was! + +They walked now between the borders, where old-fashioned flowers crowded +together, towards the stone bench. This was a slab of sandstone, worn and +flaked by weather, and set on two low posts; it leaned a little against +the trunk of a silver-poplar tree, which served for a back, and it looked +like an altar ready for the sacrifice. The thick blossoming grass, which +the mower's scythe had been unable to reach, grew high about the corners; +three or four stone steps led up to it, but they had been laid so long +ago they were sunken at one side or the other, and almost hidden by moss +and wild violets. Quite close to the bench a spring bubbled out of the +hill-side, and ran singing through a hollowed locust log, which was mossy +green where the water had over-flowed, with a musical drip, upon the +grass underneath. + +They stood a moment looking towards the west, where a golden dust seemed +blown across the sky, up into the darkness; then Lois took her seat upon +the bench. "When do you think you will get off, Giff?" she said. + +"I'm not quite sure," he answered; he was sitting on one of the lower +steps, and leaning on his elbow in the grass, so that he might see her +face. "I suppose it will take a fortnight to arrange everything." + +"I'm sorry for that," Lois said, disappointedly. "I thought you would go +in a few days." + +Gifford was silent, and began to pick three long stems of grass and braid +them together. Lois sat absently twisting the fringe on one end of the +soft scarf of yellow crepe, which was knotted across her bosom, and fell +almost to the hem of her white dress. + +"I mean," she said, "I'm sorry Helen won't have you in Lockhaven. Of +course Ashurst will miss you. Oh, dear! how horrid it will be not to +have Helen here!" + +"Yes," said Gifford sympathetically, "you'll be awfully lonely." + +They were silent for a little while. Some white phlox in the girl's bosom +glimmered faintly, and its heavy fragrance stole out upon the warm air. +She pulled off a cluster of the star-like blossoms, and held them +absently against her lips. "You don't seem at all impatient to get away +from Ashurst, Giff," she said. "If I had been you, I should have gone to +Lockhaven a month ago; everything is so sleepy here. Oh, if I were a man, +wouldn't I just go out into the world!" + +"Well, Lockhaven can scarcely be called the world," Gifford answered in +his slow way. + +"But I should think you would want to go because it will be such a +pleasure to Helen to have you there," she said. + +Gifford smiled; he had twisted his braid of grass into a ring, and +had pushed it on the smallest of his big fingers, and was turning it +thoughtfully about. "I don't believe," he said, "that it will make the +slightest difference to Helen whether I am there or not. She has Mr. +Ward." + +"Oh," Lois said, "I hardly think even Mr. Ward can take the place of +father, and the rectory, and me. I know it will make Helen happier to +have somebody from home near her." + +"No," the young man said, with a quiet persistence, "it won't make the +slightest difference, Lois. She'll have the person she loves best in the +world; and with the person one loves best one could be content in the +desert of Sahara." + +"You seem to have a very high opinion of John Ward," Lois said, a thread +of anger in her voice. + +"I have," said Gifford; "but that isn't what I mean. It's love, not John +Ward, which means content. But you don't have a very high opinion of +him?" + +"Oh, yes, I have," Lois said quickly; "only he isn't good enough for +Helen. I suppose, though, I'd say that of anybody. And he irritates me, +he is so different from other people. I don't think I do--adore him!" + +Gifford did not speak; he took another strand of grass, and began to +weave it round and round his little ring, to make it smaller. + +"Perhaps I ought not to say that," she added; "of course I wouldn't to +any one but you." + +"You ought not to say it to me, Lois," he said. + +"Why? Isn't it true?" she said. "I don't think it is wrong to say he's +different; it's certainly true!" Gifford was silent. "Do you?" she +demanded. + +"Yes," Gifford answered quietly; "and somehow it doesn't seem fair, don't +you know, to say anything about them, they are so happy; it seems as +though we ought not even to speak of them." + +Lois was divided between indignation at being found fault with and +admiration for the sentiment. "Well," she said, rather meekly for her, "I +won't say anything more; no doubt I'll like him when I know him better." + +"See if that fits your finger, Lois," her companion said, sitting up, and +handing her the little grass ring. She took it, smiling, and tried it on. +Gifford watched her with an intentness which made him frown; her bending +head was like a shadowy silhouette against the pale sky, and the little +curls caught the light in soft mist around her forehead. + +"But I'm glad for my own part, then," she went on, "to think of you with +Helen. You must tell me everything about her and about her life, when +you write; she won't do it herself." + +"I will," he answered, "if you let me write to you." + +Lois opened her eyes with surprise; here was this annoying formality +again, which Gifford's fault-finding seemed to have banished. "Let you +write?" she said impatiently. "Why, you know I depended on your writing, +Giff, and you must tell me everything you can think of. What's the good +of having a friend in Lockhaven, if you don't?" + +She had clasped her hands lightly on her knees, and was leaning forward a +little, looking at him; for he had turned away from her, and was pulling +at a bunch of violets. "I tell you what it is, Lois," he said; "I cannot +go away, and write to you, and not--and not tell you. I suppose I'm a +fool to tell you, but I can't help it." + +"Tell me what?" Lois asked, bewildered. + +"Oh," Gifford burst out, rising, and standing beside her, his big figure +looming up in the darkness, "it's this talk of friendship, Lois, that I +cannot stand. You see, I love you." + +There was silence for one long moment. It was so still they could hear +the bubbling of the spring, like a soft voice, complaining in the +darkness. Then Lois said, under her breath, "Oh, Gifford!" + +"Yes, I do," he went on, desperately. "I know you've never thought of +such a thing; somehow, I could not seem to make you see it,--you wouldn't +see it; but I do love you, and--and, Lois--if you could care, just a +little? I've loved you so long." + +Lois shrank back against the silver-poplar tree, and put her hands up to +her face. In a moment tenderness made the young man forget his anxiety. +"Did I startle you?" he said, sitting down beside her; but he did not +take her hand, as he might have done in their old frank friendship. "I'm +so sorry, but I couldn't help telling you. I know you've been unconscious +of it, but how could a fellow help loving you, Lois? And I couldn't go +away to Lockhaven and not know if there was any chance for me. Can you +care, a--little?" + +She did not speak until he said again, his voice trembling with a sudden +hope, "Won't you say one word, Lois?" + +"Why, Giff," she said, sitting up very straight, and looking at him, her +wet eyes shining in the darkness, "you know I care--I've always cared, +but not that way--and--and--you don't, Giff, you don't really--it's just +a fancy." + +"It is not a fancy," he answered quietly. "I knew I loved you that first +time I came home from college. But you were too young; it would not have +been right. And then before I went abroad, I tried to tell you once; but +I thought from the way you spoke you did not care. So I didn't say +anything more; but I love you, and I always shall." + +"Oh, Gifford," Lois cried, with a voice full of distress, "you _mustn't_! +Why, don't you see? You're just like my brother. Oh, do please let us +forget all this, and let's be just as we used to be." + +"We cannot," he said gently. "But I won't make you unhappy; I won't speak +if you tell me to be silent." + +"Indeed, I do tell you to be silent," she said, in a relieved tone. +"I--could not, Giff. So we'll just forget it. Promise me you will forget +it?" + +He shook his head, with a slow smile. "You must forget it, if it will +make you any happier; but you cannot ask me to forget. I am happier to +remember. I shall always love you, Lois." + +"But you mustn't!" she cried again. "Why can't we have just the old +friendship? Indeed--indeed, it never could be anything else; and," with a +sudden break of tenderness in her voice, "I--I really am so fond of you, +Giff!" + +Here the young man smiled a little bitterly. Friendship separated them as +inexorably as though it had been hate! + +"And," the girl went on, gaining confidence as she spoke, for argument +cleared the air of sentiment, in which she felt as awkward as she was +unkind, "and you know there are a good many things you don't like in me; +you think I have lots of faults,--you know you do." + +"I suppose I do, in a way," he acknowledged; "but if I didn't love you so +much, Lois, I would not notice them." + +Lois held her head a little higher, but did not speak. He watched her +twist her fingers nervously together; she had forgotten to take off the +little ring of braided grass. + +"I am so sorry, Giff," she said, to break the silence,--"oh, so sorry. +I--I can't forgive myself." + +"There is nothing to forgive," he answered gently; "and you must not +distress yourself by thinking that I am unhappy. I am better, Lois, yes, +and happier, because I love you. It shall be an inspiration to me all my +life, even if you should forget all about me. But I want you to make me +one promise, will you?" + +She hesitated. "If I can, Giff;" and then, with sudden trustfulness, she +added, "Yes, I will. What is it?" + +She had risen, and was standing on the step above him. He looked at her +nervous little hands a moment, but did not touch them, and then he said, +"If the time ever comes when you can love me, tell me so. I ask you this, +Lois, because I cannot bear to distress you again by speaking words of +love you do not want to hear, and yet I can't help hoping; and I shall +always love you, but it shall be in silence. So if the day ever does come +when you can love me, promise to tell me." + +"Oh, yes," she said, glad to grant something. "But, Gifford, dear, it +will never come; I must say that now." + +"But you promise?" + +"Yes," she answered, soberly. "I promise." + +He looked at her steadily a moment. "God bless you, dear," he said. + +"Oh, Gifford!" cried the girl, and with a sudden impulse she stooped and +kissed his forehead; then, half frightened at what she had done, but not +yet regretting it, she brushed past him, and went swiftly up the path to +the rectory. + +The young man stood quite still a moment, with reverent head bent as +though he had received a benediction, and then turned and followed her. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Lois Howe's mind was in a strange tumult that night; the subtile thrill, +which is neither pain nor pride, and yet seems both, with which a young +woman hears for the first time that she is loved, stung through all her +consciousness of grief at having wounded her old friend. Tears came into +her eyes once, and yet she did not know why; perhaps it was anger. How +could Gifford have been so foolish as to talk that way, and make her have +to say what she did? The old friendship was what she wanted. And then +more tears came; and for the first time in her simple girlish life, Lois +could not understand her own heart. + +It was because Helen had gone away, she said to herself, and she was +tired; and that gave her the right to cry with all her heart, which was +a great relief. + +But Lois was young. The next morning, when she pushed back her windows, +she felt joy bubble up in her soul as unrestrainedly as though she had +never said a word to Gifford which could make his heart ache. The +resistance and spring of the climbing roses made her lean out to fasten +her lattices back, and a shower of dew sprinkled her hair and bosom; and +at the sudden clear song of the robin under the eaves, she stood +breathless a moment to listen, with that simple gladness of living which +is perhaps a supreme unselfishness in its entire unconsciousness of +individual joy. + +But like the rest of the world, Lois found that such moments do not last; +the remembrance of the night before forced itself upon her, and she +turned to go down-stairs, with a troubled face. + +Of course there is plenty to do the day after a wedding, and Lois was +glad to have the occupation; it was a relief to be busy. + +Ashurst ladies always washed the breakfast things themselves; no length +of service made it seem proper to trust the old blue china and the +delicate glass to the servants. So Lois wiped her cups and saucers, and +then, standing on a chair in the china-closet, put the dessert plates +with the fine gilt pattern borders, which had been used yesterday, on the +very back of the top shelf, in such a quick, decided way Jean trembled +for their safety. + +The rectory dining-room was low-studded, and lighted by one wide latticed +window, which had a cushioned seat, with a full valance of flowered +chintz; the dimity curtains were always pushed back, for Dr. Howe was +fond of sunshine. In the open fireplace, between the brasses, stood a +blue jug filled with white lilacs, and the big punch-bowl on the +sideboard was crowded with roses. There were antlers over the doors, and +the pictures on the walls were of game and fish, and on the floor was a +bear-skin, which was one of the rector's trophies. + +Lois stood by a side-table which held a great pan of hot water; she had +a long-handled mop in her hand and a soft towel over her arm, and she +washed and wiped some wine-glasses with slender twisted stems and +sparkling bowls, and then put them on their shelves in the corner closet, +where they gleamed and glittered in the sunshine, pouring through the +open window. + +She did not work as fast now, for things were nearly in order, and she +dreaded having nothing to do; her aunt, Mrs. Dale, would have said she +was dawdling, but Miss Deborah Woodhouse, who had come over to the +rectory early to see if she could be of use, said haste was not genteel, +and it was a pleasure to see a young person who was deliberate in her +movements. + +"But you must let me help you, my dear," she added, taking off her +gloves, and pulling the fingers straight and smooth. + +"Indeed, Miss Deborah, there is nothing more to do," Lois answered, +smiling, as she closed the brass-hinged doors of the corner closet. + +"Dear me!" said the other absently, "I do trust dear Gifford's +china-closet will be kept in proper order. Your shelves do credit to +Jean's housekeeping; indeed they do! And I hope he'll have a maid who +knows how to put the lavender among the linen; there's always a right and +a wrong way. I have written out directions for her, of course, but if +there was time I would write and ask Helen to see to it." + +"Why, Giff says he won't get off for a fortnight," Lois said, with +sudden surprise. + +"I thought so," responded Miss Deborah, shaking her head, so that the +little gray curls just above her ears trembled,--"I thought so, too; but +last night he said he was going at once. At least," stopping to correct +herself, "dear Ruth and I think it best for him to go. I have everything +ready for him, so no doubt he'll get off to-morrow." + +Lois was silent. + +"The fact is," said Miss Deborah, lowering her voice, "Gifford does not +seem perfectly happy. Of course you wouldn't be apt to observe it; but +those things don't escape my eyes. He's been depressed for some time." + +"I hadn't noticed it," said Lois faintly. + +"Oh, no, certainly not," answered Miss Deborah; "it would be scarcely +proper that you should, considering the reason: but it's no surprise to +me. I always thought that when they grew old enough, dear Giff and Helen +would care for one another; and so I don't wonder that he has been +feeling some disappointment since he came home, though I had written him +she was engaged--Much too young she was, too, in my judgment." + +Lois's astonishment was so great that she dropped her mop, and Miss +Deborah looked at her reprovingly over her glasses. "Oh, yes, there's no +doubt Gifford felt it," she said, "but he'll get over it. Those things do +not last with men. You know I wouldn't speak of this to any one but you, +but he's just like a brother to you." + +"Yes, exactly like a brother," Lois said hurriedly, "and I think I should +have known it if it had been--had been that way." + +"No," said Miss Deborah, putting down the last glass, "I think not. I +only guessed it myself last night; it is all over now; those things never +last. And very likely he'll meet some nice girl in Lockhaven who will +make him happy; indeed, I shouldn't wonder if we heard he was taken with +somebody at once; hearts are often caught on the rebound! I don't know," +Miss Deborah added candidly, "how lasting an attachment formed on a +previous disappointment might be; and dear me! he does feel her marriage +very much." + +Here Sally came in to take away the pan and mop, and Lois looked about to +see if there was anything more to do. She was very anxious to bring Miss +Deborah's conversation to an end, and grateful that Jean should come and +ask her to take some silver, borrowed for yesterday's festivities, back +to Mrs. Dale. + +"It's these spoons," the old woman explained to Miss Deborah. "Mrs. Dale, +she lent us a dozen. I've counted 'em all myself; I wouldn't trust 'em to +that Sally. If there was a hair's difference, Mrs. Dale would know it +'fore she set eyes on them, let alone havin' one of our spoons 'stead of +hers." + +Miss Deborah nodded her head. "Very likely, Jean," she said; "I've not a +doubt of it. I'm going now, and Miss Lois will walk along with me. Yes, +Mrs. Dale would see if anything was wrong, you can depend upon it." + +They set out together, Lois listening absently to Miss Deborah's chatter +about the wedding, and vaguely glad when, at the gate of her aunt's +house, she could leave her, with a pretty bow, which was half a courtesy. + +There was a depressing stateliness about Dale house, which was felt as +soon as the stone gateway, with its frowning sphinxes, was passed. The +long shutters on either side of the front door were always solemnly +bowed, for Mrs. Dale did not approve of faded carpets, and the roof of +the veranda, supported by great white pillars, darkened the second-story +windows. There was no tangle of vines about its blank walls of +cream-colored brick with white trimmings, nor even trees to soften the +stare with which it surveyed the dusty highway; and the formal precision +of the place was unrelieved by flowers, except for a stiff design in +foliage plants on the perfectly kept lawn. + +On the eastern side of the house, about the deep windows of Mr. Dale's +sanctum, ivy had been permitted to grow, and there were a few larch and +beech trees, and a hedge to hide the stables; but these were special +concessions to Mr. Dale. + +"I do dislike," said Mrs. Dale,--"I do dislike untidy gardens; flowers, +and vines, and trees, all crowded together, and weeds too, if the truth's +told. I never could understand how the Woodhouse girls could endure that +forlorn old place of theirs. But then, a woman never does make a really +good manager unless she's married." + +Lois found her aunt in the long parlor, playing Patience. She was sitting +in a straight-backed chair,--for Mrs. Dale scorned the weakness of a +rocking-chair,--before a spindle-legged table, covered with green baize +and with a cherry-wood rim inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory. On it +were thirteen groups of cards, arranged with geometrical exactness at +intervals of half an inch. + +"Well, Lois," she said, as her niece entered. "Oh, you have brought the +spoons back?" But she interrupted herself, her eyebrows knitted and her +lower lip thrust out, to lift a card slowly, and decide if she should +move it. Then she glanced at the girl over her glasses. "I'm just waiting +here because I must go into the kitchen soon, and look at my cake. That +Betty of mine must needs go and see her sick mother to-day, and I have to +look after things. But I cannot be idle. I declare, there is something +malicious in the way in which the relatives of servants fall ill!" + +She stopped here long enough to count the spoons, and then began her game +again. She was able, however, to talk while she played, and pointed out +various things which did not "go quite right" at the wedding. + +The parlor at Dale house was as exact and dreary as the garden. The whole +room suggested to Lois, watching her aunt play solitaire, and the motes +dancing in the narrow streaks of sunshine which fell between the bowed +shutters, and across the drab carpet to the white wainscoting on the +other side, the pictures in the Harry and Lucy books, or the parlor +where, on its high mantel shelf, Rosamond kept her purple jar. + +She wondered vaguely, as Mrs. Dale moved her cards carefully about, +whether her aunt had ever been "bothered" about anything. Helen's +marriage seemed only an incident to Mrs. Dale; the wedding and the +weather, the dresses and the presents, which had been a breathless +interest to Lois, were apparently of no more importance to the older +woman than the building up a suit. + +"Well," Mrs. Dale said, when she had exhausted the subject of the +wedding, "I'm sure I hope it will turn out well, but I really can't say. +Ever since I've seen this Mr. Ward I've somehow felt that it was an +experiment. In the first place, he's a man of weak will,--I'm sure of +that, because he seems perfectly ready to give way to Helen in +everything; and that isn't as it ought to be,--the man should rule! And +then, besides that, whoever heard of his people? Came from the South +somewhere, I believe, but he couldn't tell me the first name of his +great-grandfather. I doubt if he ever had any, between ourselves. Still, +I hope for the best. And I'm sure I trust," she added, with an uneasy +recollection of the cake in the oven, "she won't have trouble with +servants. I declare, the happiness of married life is in the hands of +your cook. If Betty had not gone off this morning, I should have come +over to the rectory to help you. There's so much to do after a wedding." + +"Oh, you're very kind," said Lois, "but I think Jean and I can see to +things. Miss Deborah came to help me, but we were really quite in order." + +"Miss Deborah!" said Mrs. Dale. "Well, I'm glad if she could be of any +use; she really is so un-practical. But it's lucky you have Jean. Just +wait till you get a house of your own, young lady, and then you'll +understand what the troubles of housekeeping are." + +"I'm in no haste for a house of my own," said the girl, smiling. + +"That's because you're a foolish child," returned Mrs. Dale promptly. +"You'd be a great deal happier if you were married and settled. Though I +must say there is very little chance of it, unless you go away to make a +visit, as Helen did. There is only one young man in Ashurst; and now he's +going. But for that matter, Gifford Woodhouse and you are just like +brother and sister. Yes, Lois, I must say, I wish I could see you in a +home of your own. No woman is really happy unless she's married." + +"I think I'm the best judge of that," Lois answered. "No girl could be +happier than I am; to hear father call me his--Tyrant? I don't want +anything better than that." + +"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Dale decidedly. "If you had a husband to call you +_his_ Tyrant, it would be a thousand times better. I declare, I always +think, when we pray for 'all who are destitute and oppressed,' it means +the old maids. I'm sure the 'fatherless children and widows' are thought +of, and why not the poor, forlorn, unmarried women? Indeed, I think +Archibald is almost selfish to keep you at home as he does. My girls +would never have been settled if I had let them stay in Ashurst. I've +a great mind to tell your father he isn't doing his duty. You ought to +have a winter in town." + +"Indeed, I hope you won't tell him anything of the sort!" cried Lois. "I +wouldn't leave Ashurst for the world, and I'm perfectly happy, I assure +you!" + +"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Dale calmly, "or think that no one loves +your father but yourself. He was my brother for thirty-four years before +he was your father. I only spoke for your good, and his too, for of +course he would be happier if you were." + +She stopped here to gather her cards up, and deal them out again in +little piles, and also to reprove Lois, who had made an impatient gesture +at her words. + +"These little restless ways you have are very unpleasant," she said; "my +girls never did such things. I don't know where you get your unlady-like +habits; not from your father, I'm sure. I suppose it's because you don't +go out at all; you never see anybody. There, that reminds me. I have had +a letter from Arabella Forsythe. I don't know whether you remember the +Forsythes; they used to visit here; let me see, fifteen years ago was the +last time, I think. Well, they are going to take the empty house near us +for the summer. She was a Robinson; not really Ashurst people, you know, +not born here, but quite respectable. Her father was a button +manufacturer, and he left her a great deal of money. She married a person +called Forsythe, who has since died. She has one boy, about your age, +who'll be immensely rich one of these days; he is not married. Heaven +knows when Ashurst will see an eligible young man again," she added; and +then, absently, "Eight on a nine, and there's a two-spot for my clubs!" + +"I wonder if I remember Mrs. Forsythe?" Lois said, wrinkling her pretty +forehead in a puzzled way. "Wasn't she a tall, thin lady, with a pleasant +face?" + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Dale, nodding her sleek, head, "yes, _rather_ +pleasant, but melancholy. And no wonder, talking about her aches and +pains all the time! But that's where the button manufacturer showed. She +was devoted to that boy of hers, and a very nice child he was, too." She +looked sharply at her niece as she spoke. + +"I remember him," Lois said. "I saw Gifford shake him once; 'he was too +little to lick,' he said." + +"I'm afraid Gifford is very rough and unmannerly sometimes," Mrs. Dale +said. "But then, those Woodhouse girls couldn't be expected to know how +to bring up a big boy." + +"I don't think Giff is unmannerly," cried Lois. + +"Well, not exactly," Mrs. Dale admitted; "but of course he isn't like Mr. +Forsythe. Gifford hasn't had the opportunities, or the money, you know." + +"I don't think money is of much importance," said Lois. "I don't think +money has anything to do with manners." + +"Oh, you don't know anything about it!" cried Mrs. Dale. "There! you made +me make a mistake, and lose my game. Pray do not be silly, Lois, and talk +in that emphatic way; have a little more repose. I mean this young man +is--he is very different from anybody you have ever seen in Ashurst. But +there is no use trying to tell you anything; you always keep your own +opinion. You are exactly like a bag of feathers. You punch it and think +you've made an impression, and it comes out just where it went in." + +Lois laughed, and rose to go. + +"Tell your father what I said about a winter in town," Mrs. Dale called +after her; and then, gathering her cards up, and rapping them on the +table to get the edges straight, she said to herself, "But perhaps it +won't be necessary to have a winter in town!" And there was a grim sort +of smile on her face when, a moment later, Mr. Dale, in a hesitating way, +pushed the door open, and entered. + +"I thought I heard Lois's voice, my dear," he said, with a deprecating +expression. + +He wore his flowered cashmere dressing-gown, tied about the waist with a +heavy silk cord and tassel, and a soft red silk handkerchief was spread +over his white hair to protect his head from possible draughts in the +long hall. Just now one finger was between the pages of "A Sentimental +Journey." + +"She was here," said Mrs. Dale, still smiling. "I was telling her the +Forsythes were coming. It is an excellent thing; nothing could be +better." + +"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Dale. + +"Mean?" cried his wife. "What should I be apt to mean? You have no sense +about such things, Henry." + +"Oh," said her husband meekly, "you want them to fall in love?" + +"Well, really," she answered, leaning back in her chair, and tapping her +foot impatiently, "I do not see how my husband can be so silly. One would +think I was a matchmaker, and no one detests anything of that sort as I +do,--no one! Fall in love, indeed! I think the expression is positively +indelicate, Henry. Of course, if Lois should be well married, I should be +grateful; and if it should be Mr. Forsythe, I should only feel I had done +my duty in urging Arabella to take a house in Ashurst." + +"Oh, you urged her?" + +"I wrote her Ashurst was very pleasant," Mrs. Dale acknowledged, "and it +was considered healthy. (I understand Arabella!) I knew her son was going +abroad later in the summer, but I thought, if he once got here"-- + +"Ah," responded Mr. Dale. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +John and Helen had not gone at once to Lockhaven; they spent a fortnight +in wandering about through the mountains on horseback. The sweet June +weather, the crystal freshness of the air, and the melodious stillness of +the woods and fields wrapped those first heavenly days of entire +possession in a mist of joy. Afterwards, John Ward felt that it had +blinded the eyes of his soul, and drifted between him and his highest +duty; he had not been able to turn away from the gladness of living in +her presence to think of what had been, during all their engagement, an +anxiety and grief, and, he had promised himself, should be his earliest +thought when she became his wife:--the unsaved condition of her soul. + +When he had first seen her, before he knew he loved her, he had realized +with distress and terror how far she was from what he called truth; how +indifferent to what was the most important thing in the whole world to +him,--spiritual knowledge. He listened to what she said of her uncle's +little Episcopal church in Ashurst, and heard her laugh good-naturedly +about the rector's sermons, and then thought of the doctrines which were +preached from his own pulpit in Lockhaven. + +Helen had never listened to sermons full of the hopelessness of +predestination; she frankly said she did not believe that Adam was her +federal head and representative, and that she, therefore, was born in +sin. "I'm a sinner," she said, smiling; "we're all miserable sinners, you +know, Mr. Ward, and perhaps we all sin in original ways; but I don't +believe in original sin." + +When he spoke of eternal punishment, she looked at him with grave +surprise in her calm brown eyes. "How can you think such a thing?" she +asked. "It seems to me a libel upon the goodness of God." + +"But justice, Miss Jeffrey," he said anxiously; "surely we must +acknowledge the righteousness and justice of God's judgments." + +"If you mean that God would send a soul to hell forever, if you call that +his judgment, it seems to me unrighteous and unjust. Truly, I can think +of no greater heresy, Mr. Ward, than to deny the love of God; and is not +that what you do when you say he is more cruel than even men could be?" + +"But the Bible says"--he began, when she interrupted him. + +"It does not seem worth while to say, 'the Bible says,'" she said, +smiling a little as she looked into his troubled face. "The Bible was the +history, and poetry, and politics of the Jews, as well as their code of +ethics and their liturgy; so that, unless we are prepared to believe in +its verbal inspiration, I don't see how we can say, as an argument, 'the +Bible says.'" + +"And you do not believe in its verbal inspiration?" he said slowly. + +"No," Helen answered, "I could not." + +It was not for John Ward to ask how she had been taught, or to criticise +another minister's influence, but as he walked home, with anxious, +downcast eyes, he wondered what Dr. Howe's belief could be, and how it +had been possible for her soul to have been so neglected. This woman, +whose gracious, beautiful nature stirred him with profound admiration, +was in the darkness of unbelief; she had never been taught the truth. + +As he said this to himself, John Ward knew, with sudden, passionate +tenderness, that he loved her. Yet it was months before he came and told +her. What right had he to love her? he said to himself, when he knelt and +prayed for her soul's salvation: she was an unbeliever; she had never +come to Christ, or she would have known the truth. His duty to his people +confronted him with its uncompromising claim that the woman whom he +should bring to help him in his labors among them should be a Christian, +and he struggled to tear this love out of his heart. + +John Ward's was an intellect which could not hold a belief subject to +the mutations of time or circumstances. Once acknowledged by his soul, +its growth was ended; it hardened into a creed, in which he rested in +complete satisfaction. It was not that he did not desire more light; it +was simply that he could not conceive that there might be more light. And +granting his premise that the Bible was directly inspired by God, he was +not illogical in holding with a pathetic and patient faith to the +doctrines of the Presbyterian Church. + +Helen's belief was as different as was her mode of thought. It was +perhaps a development of her own nature, rather than the result of her +uncle's teaching, though she had been guided by him spiritually ever +since he had taken her to his own home, on the death of her parents, when +she was a little child. "Be a good girl, my dear," Dr. Howe would say. So +she learned her catechism, and was confirmed just before she went to +boarding-school, as was the custom with Ashurst young women, and sung in +the choir, while Mr. Denner drew wonderful chords from the organ, and she +was a very well-bred and modest young woman, taking her belief for +granted, and giving no more thought to the problems of theology than +girls usually do. + +But this was before she met John Ward. After those first anxious +questions of his, Helen began to understand how slight was her hold upon +religion. But she did not talk about her frame of mind, nor dignify the +questions which began to come by calling them doubts; how could they be +doubts, when she had never known what she had believed? So, by degrees, +she built up a belief for herself. + +Love of good was really love of God, in her mind. Heaven meant +righteousness, and hell an absence from what was best and truest; but +Helen did not feel that a soul must wait for death before it was +overtaken by hell. It was very simple and very short, this creed of +hers; yet it was the doorway through which grief and patience were to +come,--the sorrow of the world, the mystery of sin, and the hope of that +far-off divine event. + +There was no detail of religious thought with Helen Jeffrey; ideas +presented themselves to her mind with a comprehensiveness and simplicity +which would have been impossible to Mr. Ward. But at this time he knew +nothing of the mental processes that were leading her out of the calm, +unreasoning content of childhood into a mist of doubt, which, as she +looked into the future, seemed to darken into night. He was struggling +with his conscience, and asking himself if he had any right to seek her +love. + +"Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," he said to himself. +To his mind, Helen's lack of belief in certain doctrines--for it had +hardly crystallized into unbelief--was sin; and sin was punishable by +eternal death. Here was his escape from conscience. Should this sweet +soul, that he loved more than his own, be lost? No; surely, it was a +sacred right and duty to win her heart and marry her, that he might take +her away from the atmosphere of religious indifference in which she +lived, and guide her to light and life. + +Love won the day. "I will save her soul!" he said to himself; and with +this purpose always before him to hide a shadow, which whispered,--so he +thought,--"This is a sin," he asked her to be his wife. + +He did not have to plead long. "I think I have always loved you," Helen +said, looking up into his eyes; and John was so happy that every thought +of anxiety for her soul was swallowed up in gratitude to God for her +love. + +It was one midsummer afternoon that he reached Ashurst; he went at once +to the rectory, though with no thought of asking Dr. Howe's permission to +address his niece. It seemed to John as though there were only their two +souls in the great sunny world that day, and his love-making was as +simple and candid as his life. + +"I've come to tell you I love you," he said, with no preface, except to +take her hands in his. + +He did not see her often during their engagement, nor did he write her of +his fears and hopes for her; he would wait until she was quite away from +Ashurst carelessness, he thought; and beside, his letters were so full of +love, there was no room for theology. But he justified silence by saying +when they were in their own home he would show her the beauty of revealed +religion; she should understand the majesty of the truth; and their +little house, which was to be sacred as the shrine of human love, should +become the very gate of heaven. + +It was a very little house, this parsonage. Its sharp pitch roof was +pulled well down over its eyes, which were four square, shining windows, +divided into twenty-four small panes of glass, so full of bubbles and +dimples that they made the passer-by seem sadly distorted, and the spire +of the church opposite have a strange bend in it. + +John Ward's study had not a great many books. He could not afford them, +for one reason; but, with a row of Edwards, and some of Dr. Samuel +Hopkins' sermons, and pamphlets by Dr. Emmons, he could spare all but one +or two volumes of Hodge and Shedd, who, after all, but reiterate, in a +form suited to a weaker age, the teachings of Dr. Jonathan Edwards. + +The dim Turkey carpet was worn down to the nap in a little path in front +of his bookshelves, where he used to stand absorbed in reading, or where +he walked back and forth, thinking out his dark and threatening sermons. +For before his marriage John preached the law rather than the gospel. + +"So I am going to hear you preach on Sunday?" Helen said, the Saturday +morning after their return. "It's odd that I've never heard you, and we +have known each other more than a year." + +He was at his desk, and she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. He +put down his pen, and turned to look up into her face. "Perhaps you will +not like my sermons;" there was a little wistfulness in his dark eyes as +he spoke. + +"Oh, yes, I shall," she said, with smiling certainty. "Sermons are pretty +much alike, don't you think? I know some of uncle Archie's almost by +heart. Really, there is only one thing to say, and you have to keep +saying it over and over." + +"We cannot say it too often," John answered. "The choice between eternal +life and eternal death should sound in the ears of unconverted men every +day of their lives." + +Helen shook her head. "I didn't mean that, John. I was thinking of the +beauty of holiness." And then she added, with a smile, "I hope you don't +preach any awful doctrines?" + +"Sometimes the truth is terrible, dear," he said gently. + +But when she had left him to write his sermon, he sat a long while +thinking. Surely she was not ready yet to hear such words as he had meant +to speak. He would put this sermon away for some future Sunday, when the +truth would be less of a shock to her. "She must come to the knowledge of +God slowly," he thought. "It must not burst upon her; it might only drive +her further from the light to hear of justice as well as mercy. She is +not able to bear it yet." + +So he took some fresh paper, and wrote, instead of his lurid text from +Hebrews, "Ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." + +But when Helen went out of the study, she thought very little of sermons +or doctrines. John filled her mind, and she had no room for wondering +about his beliefs; he could believe anything he chose; he was hers,--that +was enough. + +She went into her small kitchen, the smile still lingering upon her lips, +and through its open doorway saw her little maid, Alfaretta, out in the +sunny garden at the back of the house. She had an armful of fresh white +tea-towels, which had been put out to dry on the row of gooseberry bushes +at the end of the garden, and was coming up the path, singing cheerily, +with all the force of her strong young lungs. Helen caught the words as +she drew near:-- + + "My thoughts on awful subjects roll, + Damnation and the dead. + What horrors seize the guilty soul, + Upon the dying bed! + + "Where endless crowds of sinners lie, + And darkness makes their chains, + Tortured with keen despair they cry, + Yet wait for fiercer pains!" + +"Oh, Alfaretta!" her mistress cried, in indignant astonishment. "How can +you say such terrible words!" Alfaretta stood still, in open-mouthed +amazement, an injured look in her good-natured blue eyes. The incongruity +of this rosy-faced, happy girl, standing in the sunshine, with all the +scents and sounds of a July day about her, and singing in her cheerful +voice these hopeless words, almost made Helen smile; but she added +gravely, "I hope you will not sing that again. I do not like it." + +"But ma'am--but Mrs. Ward," said the girl, plainly hurt at the reproof, +"I was practicing. I belong to the choir." + +Alfaretta had dropped the tea-towels, hot with sunshine and smelling of +clover-blossoms, upon her well-scoured dresser, and then turned and +looked at her mistress reproachfully. "I don't know what I am going to do +if I can't practice," she said. + +"You don't mean to say you sing that in church?" cried Helen. "Where do +you go?" + +"Why, I go to your church," said the still injured Alfaretta,--"to Mr. +Ward's. We're to have that hymn on Sabbath"-- + +"Oh, there must be some mistake," remonstrated Helen. "I'm sure Mr. Ward +did not notice that verse." + +"But it's all like that; it says"-- + +"Don't tell me any more," Helen said. "I've heard enough. I had no idea +such awful words were written." Then she stopped abruptly, feeling her +position as the preacher's wife in a way of which she had never thought. + +Alfaretta's father was an elder in John's church, which gave her a +certain ease in speaking to her mistress that did not mean the slightest +disrespect. + +"Is it the words of it you don't like?" said Alfaretta, rather relieved, +since her singing had not been criticised. + +"Yes," Helen answered, "it is the words. Don't you see how dreadful they +are?" + +Alfaretta stood with her plump red hands on her hips, and regarded Mrs. +Ward with interest. "I hadn't ever thought of 'em," she said. "Yes, +ma'am. I suppose they are awful bad," and swinging back and forth on her +heels, her eyes fixed meditatively on the ceiling, she said,-- + + "'Then swift and dreadful she descends + Down to the fiery coast, + Amongst abominable fiends'-- + +Yes, that does sound dreadful. Worst of it is, you get used to 'em, and +don't notice 'em much. Why, I've sung that hymn dozens of times in +church, and never thought of the meanin'. And there's Tom Davis: he +drinks most of the time, but he has sung once or twice in the choir +(though he ain't been ever converted yet, and he is really terrible +wicked; don't do nothin' but swear and drink). But I don't suppose he +noticed the words of this hymn,--though I know he sung it,--for he keeps +right on in his sin; and he couldn't, you know, Mrs. Ward, if that hymn +was true to him." + +Helen left Alfaretta to reflect upon the hymn, and went back to the +study; but the door was shut, and she heard the scratching of her +husband's pen. She turned away, for she had lived in a minister's +household, and had been brought up to know that nothing must disturb +a man who was writing a sermon. But John had hurriedly opened the door. + +"Did you want to speak to me, dearest?" he said, standing at the foot of +the stairs, his pen still between his fingers. "I heard your step." + +"But I must not interrupt you," she answered, smiling at him over the +balusters. + +"You never could interrupt me. Come into the study and tell me what it +is." + +"Only to ask you about a hymn which Alfaretta says is to be sung on +Sunday," Helen said. "Of course there is some mistake about it, but +Alfaretta says the choir has been practicing it, and I know you would not +want it." + +"Do you remember what it was, dear?" + +"I can't quote it," Helen answered, "but it began something about +'damnation and the dead.'" + +"Oh, yes, I know;" and then he added, slowly, "Why don't you like it, +Helen?" + +She looked at him in astonishment. "Why, it's absurd; it's horrible." + +John was silent for a few moments, and then he sighed: "We will not sing +it, dear." + +"But, John," she cried, "how could such a hymn ever have been printed? Of +course I know people used to think such things, but I had no idea anybody +thought of hell in that literal way to-day, or that hell itself was a +real belief to very many people; however, I suppose, if such hymns are +printed, the doctrine is still taught?" + +"Yes," John said, "it is as real to-day as God himself,--as it always has +been and must be; and it is believed by Christians as earnestly as ever. +We cannot help it, Helen." + +Helen looked at him thoughtfully. "It is very terrible; but oh, John, +what sublime faith, to be able to believe God capable of such awful +cruelty, and yet to love and trust Him!" + +John's face grew suddenly bright. "'Though He slay me, yet will I trust +Him,'" he said, with the simplicity of assurance. But when he went back +again to his sermon, he was convinced that he had been wise to put off +for a little while the instruction in doctrine of which his wife's soul +stood in such sore need. + +"I was right," he thought; "the Light must come gradually, the blaze of +truth at once would blind her to the perfection of justice. She would not +be able to understand there was mercy, too." + +So the choir was told the hymn would be "Welcome, sweet day of rest," +which, after all, was much better suited to the sermon. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Why the Misses Woodhouse, and Mr. Dale, and Mr. Denner should go to the +rectory for their Saturday night games of whist was never very clear to +any of them. The rector did not understand the game, he said, and it was +perhaps to learn that he watched every play so closely. Lois, of course, +had no part in it, for Mrs. Dale was always ready to take a hand, if one +of the usual four failed. Mrs. Dale was too impatient to play whist from +choice, but she enjoyed the consciousness of doing a favor. + +Lois's only occupation was to be useful. Ashurst was strangely behind the +times in thinking that it was a privilege, as it ought to be a pleasure, +for young people to wait upon their elders and betters. + +True, Mr. Denner, with old-fashioned politeness, always offered his +services when Lois went for the wine and cake at close of the rubber; but +the little gentleman would have been conscious of distinct surprise had +she accepted them, for Lois, in his eyes, was still a little girl. This +was perhaps because Mr. Denner, at sixty-two, did not realize that he had +ceased to be, as he would have expressed it, "a gentleman in middle +life." He had no landmarks of great emotions to show him how far the +sleepy years had carried him from his youth; and life in Ashurst was very +placid. There were no cases to try; property rarely went out of families +which had held it when Mr. Denner's father wrote their wills and drew up +their deeds in the same brick office which his son occupied now, and it +was a point of decency and honor that wills should not be disputed. + +Yet Mr. Denner felt that his life was full of occupation. He had his +practicing in the dim organ-loft of St. Michael's and All Angels; and +every day when dinner was over, his little nephew slipped from his chair, +and stood with his hands behind him to recite his _rego regere_; then +there were always his flies and rods to keep in order against the season +when he and the rector started on long fishing tramps; and in the +evenings, when Willie had gone to bed, and his cook was reading "The +Death Beds of Eminent Saints" by the kitchen fire, Mr. Denner worked out +chess problems by himself in his library, or read Cavendish and thought +of next Saturday; and besides all this, he went once a week to Mercer, +and sat waiting for clients in a dark back office, while he studied his +weekly paper. + +But though there seemed plenty to do, sometimes Mr. Denner would sigh, +and say to himself that it was somewhat lonely, and Mary was certainly +severe. He supposed that was because she had no mistress to keep an eye +on her. + +These weekly games of whist were a great pleasure to him. The library at +the rectory was cheerful, and there was a feeling of importance in +playing a game at which the rector and Mrs. Dale only looked on. It was +understood that the gentlemen might smoke, though the formality of asking +permission of the ladies, and being urged by them, always took place. Mr. +Denner's weekly remark to the Misses Woodhouse in this connection, as he +stood ready to strike a match on the hearth of the big fireplace, was +well known. "When ladies," he would say, bowing to each sister in turn, +with his little heels close together and his toes turned well out,--"when +ladies are so charitable to our vices, we will not reform, lest we lose +the pleasure of being forgiven." Mr. Denner smoked a cigar, but Mr. Dale +always drew from his pocket a quaint silver pipe, very long and slender, +and with an odd suggestion of its owner about it; for he was tall and +frail, and his thin white hair, combed back from his mild face, had a +silvery gleam in the lamplight. Often the pipe would be between the pages +of a book, from the leaves of which Lois would have to shake the loose +ashes before putting it back in his pocket. + +The whist party sat in high-backed chairs about a square mahogany table, +whose shining top betokened much muscle on the part of Sally. At each +corner was a candle in a tall silver candlestick, because Miss Deborah +objected to a shadow on the board, which would have been cast by a +hanging lamp. The August night was hot, and doors and windows were open +for any breath of air that might be stirring in the dark garden. Max had +retreated to the empty fireplace, finding the bricks cooler than the +carpeted floor. All was very still, save when the emphatic sweep of a +trump card made the candle flames flicker. But the deals were a +diversion. Then the rector, who had tiptoed about, to look over the +shoulder of each player, might say, "You didn't answer Miss Ruth's call, +Denner;" or, "Bless my soul, Dale, what made you play a ten-spot on that +second hand round? You ought not to send a boy to take a trick, sir!" + +It was in one of these pauses that Mrs. Dale, drawing a shining +knitting-needle out of her work, said, "I suppose you got my message this +morning, brother, that Arabella Forsythe didn't feel well enough to come +to-night? I told her she should have Henry's place, but she said she +wasn't equal to the excitement." Mrs. Dale gave a careful laugh; she did +not wish to make Mrs. Forsythe absurd in the eyes of one person present. + +"You offered her my place, my dear?" Mr. Dale asked, turning his blue +eyes upon her. "I didn't know that, but it was quite right." + +"Of course it was," replied Mrs. Dale decidedly, while the rector said, +"Yes, young Forsythe said you sent him to say so." + +Mrs. Dale glanced at Lois, sitting in one of the deep window-seats, +reading, with the lamplight shining on her pretty face. + +"I asked him to come," continued the rector, "but he said he must not +leave his mother; she was not feeling well." + +"Quite right, very proper," murmured the rest of the party; but Mrs. Dale +added, "As there's no conversation, I'm afraid it would have been very +stupid; I guess he knew that. And I certainly should not have allowed +Henry to give up his seat to him." As she said this, she looked at Mr. +Denner, who felt, under that clear, relentless eye, his would have been +the seat vacated, if Dick Forsythe had come. Mr. Denner sighed; he had no +one to protect him, as Dale had. + +"I wonder," said Miss Deborah, who was sorting her cards, and putting all +the trumps at the right side, "what decided Mr. Forsythe to spend the +summer here? I understood that his mother took the house in Ashurst just +because he was going to be abroad." + +Mrs. Dale nodded her head until her glasses glistened, and looked at +Lois, but the girl's eyes were fastened upon her book. + +"I think," remarked Mr. Dale, hesitating, and then glancing at his wife, +"he is rather a changeable young man. He has one view in the morning, and +another in the afternoon." + +"Don't be so foolish, Henry," said his wife sharply. "I hope there's +nothing wrong in the young man finding his own country more attractive +than Europe? To change his mind in that way is very sensible." But this +was in a hushed voice, for Mr. Denner had led, and the room was silent +again. + +At the next deal, Miss Deborah looked sympathetically at Mr. Dale. "I +think he is changeable," she said; "his own mother told me that she was +constantly afraid he'd marry some unsuitable young woman, and the only +safety was that he would see a new one before it became too serious. She +said it really told upon her health. Dear me, I should think it might." + +Mrs. Dale tossed her head, and her knitting-needles clicked viciously; +then she told Lois that this was the rubber, and she had better see to +the tray. The young girl must have heard every word they said, though +she had not lifted her bright eyes from her book, but she did not seem +disturbed by the charge of fickleness on the part of Mr. Forsythe. He had +not confided to her his reasons for not going abroad; all she knew was +that the summer was the merriest one she had ever spent. "I feel so +young," little Lois said; and indeed she had caught a certain careless +gayety from her almost daily companion, which did not belong to Ashurst. +But she gave no thought to his reason for staying, though her father and +Mrs. Dale did, and with great satisfaction. + +"What do you hear from Helen, brother?" Mrs. Dale asked, as Lois rose to +do her bidding. Mrs. Dale was determined to leave the subject of Dick +Forsythe, "for Henry has so little sense," she thought, "there is no +knowing what he'll say next, or Deborah Woodhouse either. But then, one +couldn't expect anything else of her." + +"Ah,--she's all right," said Dr. Howe, frowning at Miss Ruth's hand, and +then glancing at Mr. Dale's, and thrusting out his lower lip, while his +bushy eyebrows gathered in a frown. + +"What is Ward?" asked Mr. Dale, sorting his cards. "Old or new school?" + +"I'm sure I don't know the difference," said Dr. Howe; "he's a blue +Presbyterian, though, through and through. He didn't have much to say +for himself, but what he did say made me believe he was consistent; he +doesn't stop short where his creed ceases to be agreeable, and you know +that is unusual." + +"Well," remarked the older man, "he might be consistent and belong to +either school. I am told the difference consists merely in the fact that +the old school have cold roast beef on the Sabbath, and the new school +have hot roast beef on Sunday. But doubtless both unite on hell for other +sects." + +The rector's quick laugh was silenced by the game, but at the next pause +he hastened to tell them what John Ward had said of slavery. "Fancy such +a speech!" he cried, his face growing red at the remembrance. "Under the +circumstances, I couldn't tell him what I thought of him; but I had my +opinion. I wonder," he went on, rattling a bunch of keys in his pocket, +"what would be the attitude of a mind like his in politics? Conservative +to the most ridiculous degree, I imagine. Of course, to a certain extent, +it is proper to be conservative. I am conservative myself; I don't like +to see the younger generation rushing into things because they are new, +like Gifford,--calling himself a Democrat. I beg your pardon, Miss +Deborah, for finding fault with the boy." + +"Ah, doctor, ladies don't understand politics," answered Miss Deborah +politely. + +"But really," said the rector, "for a boy whose father died for the +Union, it's absurd, you know, perfectly absurd. But Ward! one can't +imagine that he would ever change in anything, and that sort of +conservatism can be carried too far." + +"Well, now," said Mr. Denner, "I should say, I should be inclined to +think, it would be just the opposite, quite--quite the contrary. From +what you say, doctor, it seems to me more likely that he might be an +anarchist, as it were. Yes, not at all a conservative." + +"How so?" asked the rector. "A man who would say such a thing as that the +Bible, his interpretation of it, was to decide all questions of duty (a +pretty dangerous thing that, for a man must have inclinations of his own, +which would be sure to color his interpretation! What?), and who would +bring all his actions down to its literal teachings without regard to +more modern needs? No, Denner; you are wrong there." + +"Not altogether," Mr. Dale demurred in his gentle voice. "Ward would +believe in a party only so long as it agreed with his conscience, I +should suppose, and his conscience might make him--anything. And +certainly the Bible test would not leave him content with democracy, +doctor. Communism is literal Christianity. I can fancy he would leave any +party, if he thought its teachings were not supported by the Bible. But I +scarcely know him; my opinion is very superficial." + +"Why do you express it, then?" said Mrs. Dale. "Don't you see Deborah has +led? You are keeping the whole table waiting!" + +They began to play. Mr. Denner, who was facing the open door, could see +the square hall, and the white stair-rail across the first landing, where +with the moon and stars about its face, the clock stood; it was just five +minutes to nine. This made the lawyer nervous; he played a low trump, in +spite of the rector's mutter of, "Look out, Denner!" and thus lost the +trick, which meant the rubber, so he threw down his cards in despair. He +had scarcely finished explaining that he meant to play the king, but +threw the knave by mistake, when Lois entered, followed by Sally with the +big tray, which always carried exactly the same things: a little fat +decanter, with a silver collar jingling about its neck, marked, Sherry, +'39; a plate of ratifia cakes, and another of plum-cake for the rector's +especial delectation; and a silver wire basket full of home-made candy +for Mr. Dale, who had two weaknesses, candy and novels. Of late Mrs. Dale +had ceased to inveigh against these tastes, feeling that it was hopeless +to look for reformation in a man nearly seventy years old. "It is bad +manners," she said, "to do foolish things if they make you conspicuous. +But then! it is easier to change a man's creed than his manners." + +The candles stood in a gleaming row on the mantelpiece, where Lois had +placed them to make room for the tray on the whist-table; for it was +useless to think of putting anything on the rector's writing-table, with +its litter of church papers, and sporting journals, and numbers of Bell's +"Life," besides unanswered letters. The ladies, still sitting in the +high-backed chairs, spread white doilies over their laps, and then took +their small glasses of wine and delicate little cakes, but the gentlemen +ate and drank standing, and they all discussed the last game very +earnestly. Only Lois, waiting by the tray, ready to hand the cake, was +silent. It was a peculiarity of Ashurst that even after childhood had +passed young people were still expected to be seen, and not heard; so her +silence would only have been thought decorous, had any one noticed it. +By and by, when she saw she was not needed, she slipped out to the front +porch, and sat down on the steps. Max followed her, and thrust his cold +nose under her hand. + +She propped her chin upon her little fist, and began to think of what had +been said of Ashurst's visitors. With a thrill of subtile satisfaction, +she remembered how pleased Mrs. Forsythe always was to see her. "She +won't have any anxiety this summer which will injure her health!" And +then she tried to disguise her thought by saying to herself that there +were no girls in Ashurst who were not "suitable." + +"Good-evening," some one said gayly. It was Mr. Forsythe, who had come so +quietly along the path, dark with its arching laburnums and syringas, she +had not heard him. + +"Oh," she said, with a little start of surprise, "I did not know we were +to see you to-night. Is your mother"-- + +"I'm like the man in the Bible," he interrupted, laughing. "He said he +wouldn't, then he did!" He had followed her to the library, and stood, +smiling, with a hand on each side of the doorway. "I started for a walk, +doctor, and somehow I found myself here. No cake, thank you,--yes, I +guess I'll have some sherry. Oh, the whist is over. Who is to be +congratulated, Mrs. Dale? For my part, I never could understand the +fascination of the game. Euchre is heavy enough for me. May I have some +of Mr. Dale's candy, Miss Lois?" + +Except Mrs. Dale, the little party of older people seemed stunned by the +quick way in which he talked. His airy manner and flimsy wit impressed +them with a sense of his knowledge of life. He represented the world +to them, the World with a capital W, and they were all more or less +conscious of a certain awe in his presence. His utter disregard of the +little observances and forms which were expected from Ashurst young +people gave them a series of shocks, that were rather pleasant than +otherwise. + +Mr. Dale looked confused, and handed him the candy with such nervous +haste, some of it fell to the floor, which gave the young man a chance +for his frequent light laugh. Miss Deborah began in an agitated way to +pick up the crumbs of cake from her lap, and ask her sister if she did +not think Sarah had come for them. Mr. Denner stopped talking about a new +sort of fly for trout, and said he thought--yes, he really thought, he +had better be going, but he waited to listen with open-mouthed admiration +to the ease with which the young fellow talked. + +Mr. Forsythe's conversation was directed to Mrs. Dale, but it was for +Lois; nor did he seem aware of the silence which fell on the rest of +the company. Mrs. Dale enjoyed it. She answered by nods, and small +chuckles of approval, and frequent glances about at the others, as much +as to say, "Do you hear that? Isn't that bright?" and a certain air of +proprietorship, which meant that she thoroughly approved of Mr. Forsythe, +and regarded him as her own discovery. + +"This is the time we miss Gifford," said Miss Deborah, who had gone out +into the hall to put on her overshoes. "He was such a useful child." Lois +came to help her, for Mr. Denner was far too timid to offer assistance, +and the rector too stout, and Mr. Dale too absent-minded. As for Mr. +Forsythe, he did not notice how Miss Deborah was occupied, until Lois had +joined her; and then his offer was not accepted, for Miss Deborah felt +shy about putting out her foot in its black kid slipper, tied about the +ankle with a black ribbon, in the presence of this young man, who was, +she was sure, very genteel. + +Mr. Forsythe's call was necessarily a short one, for, charming as he was, +Ashurst custom would not have permitted him to stay when the party had +broken up. However, he meant to walk along with the Dales, and hear her +aunt talk about Lois. + +The Misses Woodhouse's maid was waiting for them, her lantern swinging in +her hand. Mr. Denner had secretly hoped for a chance of "seeing them +home," but dared not offer his unnecessary services in Sarah's presence. + +Dr. Howe and his daughter went as far as the gate with their guests, and +then stood watching them down the lane, until a turn in the road hid the +glimmer of the lantern and the dark figures beside it. + +"Bless my soul!" said the rector, as they turned to go back to the house. +"This gayety has made me almost forget my sermon. I must not put it off +so, next week." + +This remark of Dr. Howe's was almost as regular as the whist party +itself. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth trotted behind Sarah, whose determined stride +kept them a little ahead of the others; Dick Forsythe had joined Mrs. +Dale at once, so Mr. Dale and Mr. Denner walked together. They were only +far enough behind to have the zest one feels in talking about his +neighbors when there is danger of being overheard. + +"He is a very fine conversationalist," said Mr. Denner, nodding his head +in Dick's direction; "he talks very well." + +"He talks a great deal," observed Mr. Dale. + +"He seems to feel," Mr. Denner continued, "no--ah, if I can so express +it--timidity." + +"None," responded Mr. Dale. + +"And I judge he has seen a great deal of the world," said Mr. Denner; +"yet he appears to be satisfied with Ashurst, and I have sometimes +thought, Henry, that Ashurst is not, as it were, gay." As he said this, +a certain jauntiness came into his step, as though he did not include +himself among those who were not "gay." "Yet he seems to be content. +I've known him come down to the church when Lois was singing, and sit a +whole hour, apparently meditating. He is no doubt a very thoughtful young +man." + +"Bah!" answered Mr. Dale, "he comes to hear Lois sing." + +Mr. Denner gave a little start. "Oh," he said--"ah--I had not thought of +that." But when he left Mr. Dale, and slipped into the shadows of the +Lombardy poplars on either side of his white gate-posts, Mr. Denner +thought much of it,--more with a sort of envy of Mr. Forsythe's future +than of Lois. "He will marry, some time (perhaps little Lois), and then +he will have a comfortable home." + +Mr. Denner sat down on the steps outside of his big white front door, +which had a brass knocker and knob that Mary had polished until the paint +had worn away around them. Mr. Denner's house was of rough brick, laid +with great waste of mortar, so that it looked as though covered with many +small white seams. Some ivy grew about the western windows of the +library, but on the north and east sides it had stretched across the +closed white shutters, for these rooms had scarcely been entered since +little Willie Denner's mother died, five years ago. She had kept house +for her brother-in-law, and had brought some brightness into his life; +but since her death, his one servant had had matters in her own hands, +and the house grew more lonely and cheerless each year. Mr. Denner's +office was in his garden, and was of brick, like his house, but nearer +the road, and without the softening touch of ivy; it was damp and +mildewed, and one felt instinctively that the ancient law books must have +a film of mould on their battered covers. + +The lawyer's little face had a pinched, wistful look; the curls of his +brown wig were hidden by a tall beaver hat, with the old bell crown and +straight brim; it was rarely smooth, except on Sundays, when Mary brushed +it before he went to church. He took it off now, and passed his hand +thoughtfully over his high, mild forehead, and sighed; then he looked +through one of the narrow windows on either side of the front door, where +the leaded glass was cut into crescents and circles, and fastened with +small brass rosettes; he could see the lamp Mary had left for him, +burning dimly on the hall table, under a dark portrait of some Denner, +long since dead. But he still sat upon what he called his "doorstones;" +the August starlight, and the Lombardy poplars stirring in the soft wind, +and the cricket chirping in the grass, offered more companionship, he +thought, than he would find in his dark, silent library. + +The little gentleman's mind wandered off to the different homes he knew; +they were so pleasant and cheerful. There was always something bright +about the rectory, and how small and cosy Henry Dale's study was. And how +pretty the Woodhouse girls' parlor looked! Mr. Denner was as slow to +recognize the fact that Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were no longer young +as they were themselves. Just now he thought only of the home-life in +their old house, and the comfort, and the peace. What quiet, pleasant +voices the sisters had, and how well Miss Deborah managed, and how +delightfully Miss Ruth painted! How different his own life would have +been if Gertrude Drayton--Ah, well! The little gentleman sighed again, +and then, drawing his big key from his pocket, let himself into the +silent hall, and crept quietly up-stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +It did not take Gifford Woodhouse very long to get settled in Lockhaven. +His office and bedroom constituted his household, and Miss Deborah never +knew that her bags of lavender were not even taken out of the trunk, and +that the hard-featured Irishwoman who "came in by the day" never saw the +paper of directions, written, that she might be able to read it easily, +in Miss Deborah's small, neat hand. + +But Miss Deborah was right in thinking Helen would look after his +comfort, and Gifford soon felt that his real "home" in Lockhaven was at +the parsonage, though he had not time to drop in half as often as the +master and mistress urged him to do. + +He did not tell Helen of that talk with Lois, which had brought a soberer +look to his face than she had ever seen there. But she had noticed it, +and wondered at it, and she felt his reserve, too, in speaking of her +cousin; she even asked herself if he could have cared for Lois? But the +thought was too absurd. "Probably they've quarreled again," she said +regretfully, she never had been able to understand her cousin's +impatience with him. + +Perhaps Gifford thought that she had an intuitive knowledge of the ache +there was in his heart when she talked of Lois, for he was comforted in +a vague way by the sympathetic look which was always on Helen's face when +she spoke to any one who seemed troubled. So he was glad to come to the +parsonage as often as he could, and hear the Ashurst news, and have a cup +of tea with the preacher and his wife. + +John and Helen often walked home with him, though his rooms were quite at +the other end of the town, near the river and the mills; and one night, +as they stood on the shaking bridge, and looked down at the brown water +rushing and plunging against the rotten wooden piers, Helen began to ask +him about Mr. Forsythe. + +"Tell me about him," she said. "You have seen him since he left college. +I only just remember him in Ashurst, though I recall Mrs. Forsythe +perfectly: a tall, sick-looking lady, with an amiably melancholy face, +and three puffs of hair on each side of it." + +"Except that the puffs are white now, she is just the same," Gifford +answered. "As for her son, I don't know anything about him. I believe we +were not very good friends when we were boys, but now--well, he has the +manners of a gentleman." + +"Doesn't that go without saying?" said Helen, laughing. "From the letters +I've had, I fancy he is a good deal at the rectory." + +"Yes," Gifford admitted. "But he is one of those people who make you feel +that though they may have good manners, their grandfathers did not, don't +you know?" + +"But what difference does that make," John asked, "if he is a good man?" + +"Oh, of course, no difference," Gifford replied with an impatient laugh. + +"But what is the attraction in Ashurst, Giff?" Helen said. "How can he +stay there all summer? I should not think he could leave his business." + +"Oh, he is rich." + +"Why, you don't like him!" said Helen, surprised at his tone. + +"I don't know anything about the fellow," the young man answered. "I +haven't seen enough of him to have an opinion one way or the other. +Judging from aunt Ruth's letters, though, I should say Lois liked him, so +I don't think he will be anxious for my approval, or anybody else's." + +Helen looked at him with sudden questioning in her eyes, but they had +reached his house, and John began to speak to him of his plans and of +Lockhaven. + +"I'm afraid you will have only too much to do," he said. "There +is a great deal of quarreling among the mill-owners, and constant +disagreements between the hands." + +"Well," Gifford answered, smiling, and straightening his broad shoulders, +"if there is work to do, I am glad I am here to do it. But I'm not +hopeless for the life it indicates, when you say there's much to be done. +The struggle for personal rights and advantages is really, you know, the +desire for the best, and a factor in civilization. A generation or two +hence, the children of these pushing, aggressive fathers will be fine +men." + +John shook his head sadly. "Ah, but the present evil?" + +But Gifford answered cheerfully, "Oh, well, the present evil is one stage +of development; to live up to the best one knows is morality, and the +preservation of self is the best some of these people know; we can only +wait hopefully for the future." + +"Morality is not enough," John said gently. "Morality never saved a soul, +Mr. Woodhouse." + +But Helen laughed gayly: "John, dear, Gifford doesn't understand your +awful Presbyterian doctrines, and there is no use trying to convert him." + +Gifford smiled, and owned good-naturedly that he was a heathen. "But I +think," he said, "the thing which keeps the town back most is liquor." + +"It is, indeed," John answered, eagerly. "If it could be banished!" + +"High license is the only practical remedy," said Gifford, his face full +of interest; but John's fell. + +"No, no, not that; no compromise with sin will help us. I would have it +impossible to find a drop of liquor in Lockhaven." + +"What would you do in case of sickness?" Gifford asked curiously. + +"I wouldn't have it used." + +"Oh, John, dear," Helen protested, "don't you think that's rather +extreme? You know it's life or death sometimes: a stimulant has to be +used, or a person would die. Suppose I had to have it?" + +His face flushed painfully. "Death is better than sin," he said slowly +and gently; "and you, if you----I don't know, Helen; no one knows his +weakness until temptation comes." His tone was so full of trouble, +Gifford, feeling the sudden tenderness of his own strength, said +good-naturedly, "What do you think of us poor fellows who confess to +a glass of claret at dinner?" + +"And what must he have thought of the dinner-table at the rectory?" Helen +added. + +"I don't think I noticed it," John said simply. "You were there." + +"There, Helen, that's enough to make you sign the pledge!" said Gifford. + +He watched them walking down the street, under the arching ailantus, +their footsteps muffled by the carpet of the fallen blossoms; and there +was a thoughtful look on his face when he went into his office, and, +lighting his lamp, sat down to look over some papers. "How is that going +to come out?" he said to himself. "Neither of those people will amend an +opinion, and Ward is not the man to be satisfied if his wife holds a +belief he thinks wrong." But researches into the case of McHenry _v._ +Coggswell put things so impractical as religious beliefs out of his mind. + +As for John and Helen, they walked toward the parsonage, and Gifford, and +his future, and his views of high license were forgotten, as well as the +sudden pain with which John had heard his wife's careless words about his +"awful doctrines." + +"It is very pleasant to see him so often," John said, "but how good it is +to have you all to myself!" + +Helen gave him a swift, glad look; then their talk drifted into those +sweet remembrances which happy husbands and wives know by heart: what he +thought when he first saw her, how she wondered if he would speak to her. +"And oh, Helen," he said, "I recollect the dress you wore,--how soft and +silky it was, but it never rustled, or gleamed; it rested my eyes just to +look at it." + +A little figure was coming towards them down the deserted street, with a +jug clasped in two small grimy hands. + +"Preacher!" cried a childish voice eagerly, "good-evenin', preacher." + +John stopped and bent down to see who it was, for a tangle of yellow hair +almost hid the little face. + +"Why, it is Molly," he said, in his pleasant voice. "Where have you been, +my child? Oh, yes, I see,--for dad's beer?" + +Molly was smiling at him, proud to be noticed. "Yes, preacher," she +answered, wagging her head. "Good-night, preacher." But they had gone +only a few steps when there was a wail. Turning her head to watch him out +of sight, Molly had tripped, and now all that was left of the beer was a +yellow scum of froth on the dry ground. The jug was unbroken, but the +child could find no comfort in that. + +"I've spilt dad's beer," she said, sobbing, and sinking down in a forlorn +heap on the ground. + +John knelt beside her, and tried to comfort her. "Never mind; we'll go +and tell dad it was an accident." + +But Molly only shook her head. "No," she said, catching her breath, as +she tried to speak, "'t won't do no good. He'll beat me. He's getting +over a drunk, so he wanted his beer, and he'll lick me." + +John looked down sadly at the child for a moment. "I will take you home, +Helen, and then I will go back with Molly." + +"Oh," Helen answered quickly, "let me go with you?" + +"No," John replied, "no, dear. You heard what Molly said? I--I cannot +bear that your eyes should see--what must be seen in Tom Davis's house +to-night. We will go to the parsonage now, and then Molly and I will tell +dad about the beer." He lifted the child gently in his arms, and stooped +again for the pitcher. "Come, Helen," he said, and they went towards the +parsonage. Helen entered reluctantly, but without a protest, and then +stood watching them down the street. The little yellow head had fallen on +John's shoulder, and Molly was almost asleep. + +Tom Davis's house was one of a row near the river. They had been built on +piles, so as to be out of the way of the spring "rise," but the jar and +shock of the great cakes of ice floating under them when the river opened +up had given them an unsteady look, and they leaned and stumbled so that +the stained plastering had broken on the walls, and there were large +cracks by the window frames. The broken steps of Molly's home led up to +a partly open door. One panel had been crushed in in a fight, and the +knob was gone, and the door-posts were dirty and greasy. The narrow +windows were without shutters, and only a dingy green paper shade hid +the room within. + +Molly opened her sleepy eyes long enough to say, "Don't let dad lick me!" + +"No, little Molly," John said, as he went into the small entry, and +knocked at the inner door. "Don't be afraid." + +"Come in," a woman's voice answered. + +Mrs. Davis was sitting by the fireless stove, on which she had placed her +small lamp, and she was trying by its feeble light to do some mending. +Her face had that indifference to its own hopelessness which forbids all +hope for it. She looked up as they entered. + +"Oh, it's the preacher," she said, with a flickering smile about her +fretful lips; and she rose, brushing some lifeless strands of hair behind +her ears, and pulling down her sleeves, which were rolled above her thin +elbows. + +"Molly has had an accident, Mrs. Davis," John explained, putting the +child gently down, and steadying her on her uncertain little feet, until +her eyes were fairly opened. "So I came home with her to say how it +happened." + +"She spilt the beer, I reckon," said Mrs. Davis, glancing at the empty +jug John had put on the table. "Well, 't ain't no great loss. He's +asleep, and won't know nothing about it. He'll have forgot he sent her +by mornin'." She jerked her head towards one side of the room, where her +husband was lying upon the floor. "Go get the preacher a chair, Molly. +Not that one; it's got a leg broke. Oh, you needn't speak low," she +added, as John thanked the child softly; "he won't hear nothing before +to-morrow." + +The lumberman lay in the sodden sleep with which he ended a spree. He had +rolled up his coat for a pillow, and had thrown one arm across his +purple, bloated face. Only the weak, helpless, open mouth could be seen. +His muscular hands were relaxed, and the whole prostrate figure was +pathetic in its unconsciousness of will and grotesque unhumanness. Fate +had been too strong for Tom Davis. His birth and all the circumstances of +his useless life had brought him with resistless certainty to this level, +and his progress in the future could only be an ever-hastening plunge +downward. + +But the preacher did not consider fate when he turned and looked at the +drunken man. A stern look crept over the face which had smiled at Molly +but a moment before. + +"This is the third time," he said, "that this has happened since Tom came +and told me he would try to keep sober. I had hoped the Spirit of God had +touched him." + +"I know," the woman answered, turning the coat she was mending, and +moving the lamp a little to get a better light; "and it's awful hard on +me, so it is; that's where all our money goes. I can't get shoes for the +children's feet, let alone a decent rag to put on my back to wear of a +Sabbath, and come to church. It's hard on me, now, I tell you, Mr. Ward." + +"It is harder on him," John replied. "Think of his immortal soul. Oh, +Mrs. Davis, do you point out to him the future he is preparing for +himself?" + +"Yes," she said, "I'm tellin' him he'll go to hell all the time; but it +don't do no good. Tom's afraid of hell, though; it's the only thing as +ever did keep him straight. After one o' them sermons of yours, I've +known him swear off as long as two months. I ain't been to church this +long time, till last Sabbath; and I was hopin' I'd hear one of that kind, +all about hell, Mr. Ward, so I could tell Tom, but you didn't preach that +way. Not but what it was good, though," she added, with an evident wish +to be polite. + +John's face suddenly flushed. "I--I know I did not, but the love of God +must constrain us, Mrs. Davis, as well as the fear of hell." + +Mrs. Davis sighed. Tom's spiritual condition, which had roused a +momentary interest, was forgotten in the thought of her own misery. +"Well, it's awful hard on me," she repeated with a little tremor in her +weak chin. + +John looked at her with infinite pity in his eyes. "Yes," he said, "hard +on you, because of the eternal suffering which may come to your husband. +Nothing can be more frightful than to think of such a thing for one we +love. Let us try to save him; pray always, pray without ceasing for his +immortal soul, that he may not slight the day of salvation, and repent +when it is too late to find the mercy of God. Oh, the horror of knowing +that the day of grace has gone forever! 'For my spirit shall not always +strive with man.'" + +He went over to the drunken man, and, kneeling down beside him, took one +of the helpless hands in his. Mrs. Davis put down her sewing, and watched +him. + +Perhaps the preacher prayed, as he knelt there, though she could not hear +him; but when he rose and said good-night, she could see his sad eyes +full of trouble which she could not understand, a pity beyond her +comprehension. + +Molly came sidling up to her protector, as he stood a moment in the +doorway, and, taking his hand in hers, stroked it softly. + +"I love you, preacher," she said, "'cause you're good." + +John's face brightened with a sudden smile; the love of little children +was a great joy to him, and the touch of these small hands gave him the +indefinable comfort of hope. God, who had made the sweetness of +childhood, would be merciful to his own children. He would give them +time, He would not withdraw the day of grace; surely Tom Davis's soul +would yet be saved. There was a subtle thought below this of hope that +for Helen, too, the day of grace might be prolonged, but he did not +realize this himself; he did not know that he feared for one moment that +she might not soon accept the truth. He was confident, he thought, of +her, and yet more confident of the constraining power of the truth +itself. + +He looked down at Molly, and put his hand gently on her yellow head. +"Be a good girl, my little Molly;" then, with a quiet blessing upon the +dreary home, he turned away. + +But what Mrs. Davis had said of going to church to hear a sermon on hell, +and her evident disappointment, did not leave his mind. He walked slowly +towards the parsonage, his head bent and his hands clasped behind him, +and a questioning anxiety in his face. "I will use every chance to speak +of the certain punishment of the wicked when I visit my people," he said, +"but not in the pulpit. Not where Helen would hear it--yet. In her frame +of mind, treating the whole question somewhat lightly, not realizing its +awful importance, it would be productive of no good. I will try, little +by little, to show her what to believe, and turn her thoughts to truth. +For the present that is enough, that is wisest." And then his heart went +back to her, and how happy they were. He stopped a moment, looking up at +the stars, and saying, with a breathless awe in his voice, "My God, how +good Thou art, how happy I am!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The little stir which the arrival of the Forsythes made in Ashurst was +delightful. + +"Of course," as Mrs. Dale said, "Arabella Forsythe had not been born +there, and could not be expected to be just like Ashurst people; but it +was something to have a new person to talk to, even if you had to talk +about medicines most of the time." + +Lois Howe enjoyed it, for there were very few young people in Ashurst +that summer; the two Drayton girls had gone away to visit a married +brother, and there were no young men now Gifford had gone. So it was +pleasant to have a person of her own age to talk to, and sometimes to +walk with, though the rector never felt quite sure what his sister would +say to that. However, Mrs. Dale had nothing to say; she shut her eyes to +any impropriety, and even remarked severely to Miss Deborah Woodhouse +that those old-fashioned ideas of a girl's being always under her +mother's eye, were prim and old maidish; "and beside, Lois's mother is +dead," she added, with a sort of triumph in her voice. + +As for Lois, she almost forgot that she had thought Ashurst lonely when +Helen had gone, and Gifford; for of course, in so small a place, every +one counted. She had wondered, sometimes, before the Forsythes came, with +a self-consciousness which was a new experience, if any one thought she +missed Gifford. But her anxiety was groundless,--Ashurst imagination +never rose to any such height; and certainly, if the letters the young +man wrote to her could have been seen, such a thought would not have been +suggested. They were pleasant and friendly; very short, and not very +frequent; mostly of Helen and what she did; there was almost nothing of +himself, and the past, at least as far as a certain night in June was +concerned, was never mentioned. At first this was a relief to Lois, but +by and by came a feeling too negative to be called pique, or even +mortification at having been forgotten; it was rather an intangible +soreness in her memory of him. + +"It is just as Miss Deborah says," she said to herself: "young men always +forget those things. And it is better that they do. Gifford never thinks +of what he said to me, and I'm sure I'm glad he doesn't--but still!" And +then that absurd suggestion of Miss Deborah's about Helen would creep +into her mind; she might banish it, because it was silly and impossible, +yet she did not utterly forget it. However, she really thought very +little about it; the presence of Mrs. Forsythe and her son gave her +plenty of occupation. There was the round of teas and dinners which +Ashurst felt it incumbent to give to a new arrival, and Lois was to have +two new gowns in consequence of so much gayety. + +She spent a good deal of time with Mrs. Forsythe, for the elder lady +needed her, she said. It was not altogether the companionship which +fascinated Lois: the sunny drawing-room of the house the Forsythes had +hired was filled with dainty things, and light, graceful furniture, and +many harmlessly silly novels; there was a general air about it of +belonging to a life she had never seen which made it a pleasure to come +into it. The parlors in Ashurst had such heavy, serious chairs and +tables, she said to herself, and the pictures were all so dark and ugly, +and she was so tired of the carpets. + +So she was very glad when Mrs. Forsythe begged her to come and read +aloud, or fix her flowers, or even stroke her soft white hair when she +had a headache. "Dick may be at home, my dear," Mrs. Forsythe would say +in her deprecating voice, "but you won't mind him?" And soon Lois did not +mind him at all. + +At first she was very shy in the presence of this light-hearted young +fellow, whose indifference to Ashurst opinion was very impressive; but by +and by that wore off, and Mrs. Forsythe's drawing-room echoed with their +young laughter. Lois began to feel with Dick the freedom and friendliness +which had once been only for Gifford. "Why couldn't Giff have been like +this?" she thought; yet she did not say that she and Mr. Forsythe were +like "brother and sister," for she was always conscious of a possibility +in their friendship; but it was enough that Mr. Forsythe was very +interesting, and that that summer, life was very delightful. + +After all, love is frequently a matter of propinquity. + +Dick found himself going often to the rectory, and Lois fell into the +habit of making her plans with the reservation, "In case Mr. Forsythe +calls;" and it generally happened that he did call. "Mother sends her +love, and will Miss Lois come and read to her a little while this +afternoon, if she is not too busy?" or, "Mother returns this dish, and +begs me to thank you for the jelly, and to tell Jean how good it was." + +It was easy for Dick to manufacture errands like these. Dr. Howe began to +think young Forsythe spent the greater part of his time at the rectory. +But this did not trouble him at all; in fact it was a satisfaction that +this lively young man liked the rectory so much. Dr. Howe did not go very +far into the future in his thoughts; he was distinctly flattered in the +present. Of course, if anything came of it (for the rector was not +entirely unworldly), why, it would be all for the best. So he was quite +patient if Lois was not on hand to hunt up a book for him or to fetch +his slippers, and he fell into the habit of spending much time in Mr. +Denner's office, looking over the "Field" and talking of their next +hunting trip. He was not even irritated when, one morning, wishing to +read a letter to his daughter, he had gone all over the house looking +for her, and then had caught a glimpse of her through the trees, down in +the sunny garden, with Dick Forsythe. "I'll just let that letter wait," +he said, and went and stretched himself comfortably on the slippery, +leather-covered sofa in the shaded library, with a paper in his hand and +a satisfied smile on his lips. + +The garden was ablaze with color, and full of all sorts of delicious +scents and sounds. The gay old-fashioned flowers poured a flood of +blossoms through all the borders: hollyhocks stood like rockets against +the sky; sweet-peas and scarlet runners scrambled over the box hedges and +about the rose-bushes; mallows and sweet-williams, asters and zinias and +phlox, crowded close together with a riotous richness of tint; scarlet +and yellow nasturtiums streamed over the ground like molten sunshine; +and, sparkling and glinting through the air, butterflies chased up and +down like blossoms that had escaped from their stems. + +Lois had come out to pick some flowers for the numerous vases and bowls +which it was her delight to keep filled all summer long. She was +bareheaded, and the wind had rumpled the curls around her forehead; the +front of her light blue dress--she wore light blue in a manner which +might have been called daring had it implied the slightest thought--was +caught up to hold her lapful of flowers; a sheaf of roses rested on her +shoulder, and some feathery vines trailed almost to the ground, while in +her left hand, their stems taller than her own head, were two stately +sunflowers, which were to brighten the hall. + +Mr. Forsythe caught sight of her as he closed the gate, and hurried +down the path to help her carry her fragrant load. He had, as usual, a +message to deliver. "Mother sends her love, Miss Lois, and says she isn't +well enough to go and drive this afternoon; but she'll be glad to go +to-morrow, if you'll take her?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" Lois cried, in her impetuous voice. "But I'm sorry +she's ill to-day." + +Dick gave the slightest possible shrug of his square shoulders. "Oh, I +guess she's all right," he said. "It amuses her. But won't you give me +some flowers to take home to her?" + +Of course Lois was delighted to do it, but Dick insisted that she should +first put those she had already gathered in water, and then get some +fresh ones for his mother. "You see I'm very particular that she should +have the best;" then they both laughed. Now mutual laughter at small +jokes brings about a very friendly feeling. + +They went up to the side porch, where it was shady, and Lois and Sally +brought out all the vases and dishes which could be made to hold flowers, +and put them in a row on the top step. Then Dick brought a big pitcher of +fresh, cold water from the spring, and Lois went for the garden scissors +to clip off the long stems; and at last they were ready to go to work, +the sweet confusion of flowers on the steps between them, and Max sitting +gravely at Lois's elbow as chaperon. + +The rector heard their voices and the frequent shouts of laughter, and +began to think he must bestir himself; Mr. Forsythe should see that +Ashurst young women were under the constant over-sight of their parents; +but he yawned once or twice, and thought how comfortable the cool leather +of the lounge was, and had another little doze before he went out to the +porch with the open letter in his hand. + +Dick had his hat full of white, and pink, and wine-colored hollyhocks, +which he had stripped from their stems, and was about to put in a shallow +dish, so he did not rise, but said "Hello!" in answer to the rector's +"Good-morning," and smiled brightly up at him. It was the charm of this +smile which made the older people in Ashurst forget that he treated +them with very little reverence. + +"Lois," her father said, "I have a letter from Helen; do you want to send +any message when I answer it? Mr. Forsythe will excuse you if you read +it." + +"Why, of course," Dick replied. "I feel almost as though I knew Mrs. +Ward, Miss Lois has talked so much about her." + +"How funny to hear her called 'Mrs. Ward!'" Lois said, taking the letter +from her father's hand. + +"I should think she'd hate Lockhaven," Dick went on. "I was there once +for a day or two. It is a poor little place; lots of poverty among the +hands. And it is awfully unpleasant to see that sort of thing. I've heard +fellows say they enjoyed a good dinner more if they saw some poor beggar +going without. Now, I don't feel that way. I don't like to see such +things; they distress me, and I don't forget them." + +Lois, reading Helen's letter, which was full of grief for the helpless +trouble she saw in Lockhaven, thought that Mr. Forsythe had a very tender +heart. Helen was questioning the meaning of the suffering about her; +already the problem as old as life itself confronted her, and she asked, +Why? + +Dr. Howe had noticed this tendency in some of her later letters, and +scarcely knew whether to be annoyed or amused by it. "Now what in the +world," he said, as Lois handed back the letter,--"what in the world does +the child mean by asking me if I don't think--stay, where is that +sentence?" The rector fumbled for his glasses, and, with his lower lip +thrust out, and his gray eyebrows gathered into a frown, glanced up and +down the pages. "Ah, yes, here: 'Do you not think,' she says, 'that the +presence in the world of suffering which cannot produce character, +irresponsible suffering, so to speak, makes it hard to believe in the +personal care of God?' It's perfect nonsense for Helen to talk in that +way! What does she know about 'character' and 'irresponsible suffering'? +I shall tell her to mend her husband's stockings, and not bother her +little head with theological questions that are too big for her." + +"Yes, sir," Lois answered, carefully snipping off the thorns on the +stem of a rose before she plunged it down into the water in the big +punch-bowl; "but people cannot help just wondering sometimes." + +"Now, Lois, don't you begin to talk that way," the rector cried +impatiently; "one in a family is enough!" + +"Well," said Dick Forsythe gayly, "what's the good of bothering about +things you can't understand?" + +"Exactly," the rector answered. "Be good! if we occupy our minds with +conduct, we won't have room for speculation, which never made a soul +better or happier, anyhow. Yes, it's all nonsense, and I shall tell Helen +so; there is too much tendency among young people to talk about things +they don't understand, and it results in a superficial, skin-deep sort of +skepticism that I despise! Besides," he added, laughing and knocking his +glasses off, "what is the good of having a minister for a husband? She +ought to ask him her theological questions." + +"Well, now, you know, father," Lois said, "Helen isn't the sort of woman +to be content just to step into the print her husband's foot has made. +She'll choose what she thinks is solid ground for herself. And she isn't +superficial." + +"Oh, no, of course not," the rector began, relenting. "I didn't mean to +be hard on the child. But she mustn't be foolish. I don't want her to +make herself unhappy by getting unsettled in her belief, and that is what +this sort of questioning results in. But I didn't come out to scold +Helen; it just occurred to me that it might be a good thing to send her +that twenty-five dollars I meant to give to domestic missions, and let +her use it for some of her poor people. What?" + +"Oh, yes, do!" Lois replied. + +"Let me send twenty-five dollars, too!" Dick cried, whipping out a +check-book. + +Dr. Howe protested, but Mr. Forsythe insisted that it was a great +pleasure. "Don't you see," he explained, smiling, "if Mrs. Ward will +spend some money for me, it will make my conscience easy for a month; +for, to tell you the truth, doctor, I don't think about poor people any +more than I can help; it's too unpleasant. I'm afraid I'm very selfish." + +This was said with such a good-natured look, Dr. Howe could only smile +indulgently. "Ah, well, you're young, and I'm sure your twenty-five +dollars for Helen's poor people will cover a multitude of sins. I fancy +you are not quite so bad as you would have us believe." + +Lois watched him draw his check, and was divided between admiration and +an undefined dissatisfaction with herself for feeling admiration for +what really meant so little. + +"Thank you very much," the rector said heartily. + +"Oh, you're welcome, I'm sure," answered the other. + +Dr. Howe folded the check away in a battered leather pocket-book, shiny +on the sides and ragged about the corners, and overflowing with odds and +ends of memoranda and newspaper clippings; a row of fish-hooks was +fastened into the flap, and he stopped to adjust these before he went +into the house to answer Helen's letter. + +He snubbed her good-naturedly, telling her not to worry about things +too great for her, but beneath his consciousness there lurked a little +discomfort, or even irritation. Duties which seem dead and buried, and +forgotten, are avenged by the sting of memory. In the rector's days at +the theological school, he had himself known those doubts which may lead +to despair, or to a wider and unflinching gaze into the mysteries of +light. But Archibald Howe reached neither one condition nor the other. +He questioned many things; he even knew the heartache which the very fear +of losing faith gives. But the way was too hard, and the toil and anguish +of the soul too great; he turned back into the familiar paths of the +religion he knew and loved; and doubt grew vague, not in assured belief, +but in the plain duties of life. After a little while, he almost forgot +that he ever had doubted. Only now and then, when some questioning soul +came to him, would he realize that he could not help it by his own +experience, only by a formula,--a text-book spirituality; then he would +remember, and promise himself that the day should come when he would face +uncertainty and know what he believed. But it was continually eluding +him, and being put off; he could not bear to run the risk of disturbing +the faith of others; life was too full; he had not the time for study and +research,--and perhaps it would all end in deeper darkness. Better be +content with what light he had. So duty was neglected, and his easy, +tranquil life flowed on. + +Writing his careless rebuke to Helen brought this past unpleasantly +before his mind; he was glad when he had sanded his paper and thrust the +folded letter into its envelope, and could forget once more. + +Dick Forsythe had prolonged his call by being very careful what flowers +were picked for his mother, and he and Lois wandered over the whole +garden, searching for the most perfect roses, before he acknowledged that +he was content. When they parted at the iron gate, he was more in love +than ever, and Lois walked back to the rectory, thinking with a vague +dissatisfaction how much she would miss the Forsythes when they left +Ashurst. + +But Mr. Forsythe's was not the sort of love which demanded solitude or +silence, so that when he saw Mr. Dale coming from Mr. Denner's little law +office, he made haste to join him. Conversation of any sort, and with any +person, was a necessity to this young man, and Mr. Dale was better than +no one. + +"I've just been to the rectory," he said, as he reached the older man's +side. + +"I suppose so," Mr. Dale answered shortly. Perhaps he was the only person +in Ashurst who was not blinded by the glamour of that World which Mr. +Forsythe represented, and who realized the nature of the young man +himself. Dick's superficiality was a constant irritation to Mr. Dale, who +missed in him that deference for the opinions of older people which has +its roots in the past, in the training of fathers and mothers in courtesy +and gentleness, and which blossoms in perfection in the third or fourth +generation. + +There was nothing in his voice to encourage Dick to talk about Lois Howe, +so he wisely turned the conversation, but wished he had a more congenial +companion. Mr. Dale walked with hands behind him and shoulders bent +forward; his wide-brimmed felt hat was pulled down over his long soft +locks of white hair, and hid the expression of his face. + +So Dick rattled on in his light, happy voice, talking of everything or +nothing, as his hearer might happen to consider it, until suddenly Mr. +Dale's attention was caught: Dick began to speak of John Ward. "I thought +I'd seen him," he was saying. "The name was familiar, and then when Miss +Lois described his looks, and told me where he studied for the ministry, +I felt sure of it. If it is the same man, he must be a queer fellow." + +"Why?" asked Mr. Dale. He did not know John Ward very well, and had no +particular feeling about him one way or the other; but people interested +Mr. Dale, and he had meant some time to study this man with the same +impersonal and kindly curiosity with which he would have examined a new +bug in his collection. + +"Because, if he's the man I think he is,--and I guess there is no doubt +about it--thin, dark, and abstracted-looking, named Ward, and studying at +the Western Theological Seminary that year,--I saw him do a thing--well, +I never knew any other man who would have done it!" + +"What was it, sir?" said Mr. Dale, turning his mild blue eyes upon the +young man, and regarding him with an unusual amount of interest. + +Dick laughed. "Why," he answered, "I saw that man,--there were a lot of +us fellows standing on the steps of one of the hotels; it was the busiest +street and the busiest time of the day, and there was a woman coming +along, drunk as a lord. Jove! you ought to have seen her walk! She +couldn't walk,--that was about the truth of it; and she had a miserable +yelling brat in her arms. It seemed as though she'd fall half a dozen +times. Well, while we were standing there, I saw that man coming down the +street. I didn't know him then,--somebody told me his name, afterwards. I +give you my word, sir, when he saw that woman, he stood still one minute, +as though he was thunderstruck by the sight of her,--not hesitating, you +know, but just amazed to see a woman looking like that,--and then he went +right up to her, and took that dirty, screeching child out of her arms; +and then, I'm damned if he didn't give her his arm and walk down the +street with her!" + +Mr. Dale felt the shock of it. "Ah!" he said, with a quick indrawn +breath. + +"Yes," continued Dick, who enjoyed telling a good story, "he walked down +that crowded street with that drunken, painted creature on his arm. I +suppose he thought she'd fall, and hurt herself and the child. Naturally +everybody looked at him, but I don't believe he even saw them. We stood +there and watched them out of sight--and--but of course you know how +fellows talk! Though so long as he was a _minister_"--Dick grinned +significantly, and looked at Mr. Dale for an answer; but there was none. + +Suddenly the old man stood still and gravely lifted his hat: "He's a good +man," he said, and then trudged on again, with his head bent and his +hands clasped behind him. + +Mr. Forsythe looked at him, and whistled. "Jove!" he exclaimed, "it +doesn't strike you as it did Dr. Howe. I told him, and he said, 'Bless my +soul, hadn't the man sense enough to call a policeman?'" + +But Mr. Dale had nothing more to say. The picture of John Ward, walking +through the crowded street with the woman who was a sinner upheld by his +strong and tender arm, was not forgotten; and when Dick had left him, and +he had lighted his slender silver pipe in the quiet of his basement +study, he said again, "He's a good man." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +It was one of those deliciously cold evenings in early autumn. All day +long the sparkling sunshine-scented air had held an exhilaration like +wine, but now night had folded a thin mist across the hills, though the +clear darkness of the upper sky was filled with the keen white light of +innumerable stars. + +A fire in the open grate in John Ward's study was pure luxury, for the +room did not really need the warmth. It was of that soft coal which +people in the Middle States burn in happy indifference to its dust-making +qualities, because of its charm of sudden-puffing flames, which burst +from the bubbling blackness with a singing noise, like the explosion of +an oak-gall stepped on unawares in the woods. + +It had been a busy day for John, ending with the weekly prayer-meeting; +and to sit now in front of the glowing fire, with Helen beside him, was a +well-earned rest. + +In the afternoon he had taken a dozen of the village children to find a +swamp whose borders were fringed with gentians, which seemed to have +caught the color of the wind-swept October skies. He would not let Helen +go. "The walk would tire you," he said; but he himself seemed to know no +weariness, though most of the time he carried one of the children, and +was continually lifting them over rough places, and picking their flowers +and ferns for them. + +Helen had seen them start, and watched them as they tramped over the +short, crisp grass of an upland pasture, and she could just distinguish +the words of a hymn they sung, John's deep, sweet tenor leading their +quavering treble:-- + + "His loving kindness, loving kindness, + His loving kindness, oh, how free!" + +After they had gathered gentians to their hearts' content, they crowded +about John and begged for a story, for that was always the crowning bliss +of an afternoon with the preacher. But, though prefaced with the remark +that they must remember it was only a story and not at all true, their +enjoyment of gnomes and fairies, of wondrous palaces built of shining +white clouds, with stars for lamps, was never lessened. True, there was +generally a moral, but in his great desire to make it attractive John +often concealed it, and was never quite sure that his stories did the +good he intended. But they did good in another way; the children loved +him, as most of them loved nothing else in their meagre, hungry little +lives. And he loved them; they stirred the depths of tenderness in him. +What did the future hold for them? Misery, perhaps, and surely sin, for +what hope was there of purity and holiness in such homes as theirs? And +the horror of that further future, the sure eternity which follows sin, +cast a dreary shadow over them, and lent a suppressed passion to the +fervor with which he tried to win their love, that he might lead them to +righteousness. + +But it was his gentleness, and a childlike simplicity which they +themselves must early lose, which attracted and charmed the children, and +made them happy and contented if they could but be with the preacher. + +They had left him reluctantly at the parsonage gate, clamoring for +another afternoon, which was gladly promised. Then John had had a quiet +half hour for further thought upon his evening talk to his people, which +had been prepared the day before. Helen had laughed at the amount of +study given to every address. "I wish you could see how uncle Archie +manages his sermons." + +"He has not the sort of people I have," John said, with kindly excuse. +"Yet think of the importance of speaking to any one in Christ's name! We +preach for eternity, Helen,--for eternity." + +She looked at him gravely. "John," she answered, "you take these things +too much to heart. It is not wise, dear." + +He hesitated, and then said gently, "These are the only things to take to +heart. We only live to prepare for that other life. Can we be too earnest +dear, when eternity hangs upon the use we make of time? That thought is a +continual spur to make me eager for my duty to my people." + +"Oh, I know it," Helen responded, laying her head upon his shoulder; "but +don't work too hard." + +He put his arms about her, and the impulse which had been strong a moment +before to speak to her of her own soul was forgotten. + +These prayer-meetings were trials to Helen Ward. She missed the stately +Liturgy of her own church. "I don't like to hear Elder Dean give the +Almighty so much miscellaneous information," she said, half laughing, yet +quite in earnest. But she always went, for at least there was the +pleasure of walking home with John. Beside, practice had made it possible +for her to hear without heeding, and in that way she escaped a great deal +of annoyance. + +This especial Wednesday evening, however, she had not been able to close +her ears to all that was said. She had grown restless, and looked about +the narrow whitewashed room where the lecture was given, and longed for +the reverence of the starlit silence outside. + +John had begun the meeting by a short prayer, simple and direct as a +child's request to his father, and after a hymn he said a few words on +the text he had chosen. Then the meeting was open, and to some of the +things said, Helen listened with indignant disapproval. As they walked +home, rejoicing in the fresh cold air and the sound of their quick +footsteps on the frosty ground, she made up her mind what she meant to +do, but she did not speak of it until they were by their own fireside. + +The room was full of soft half-darkness; shadows leaped out of the +corners, and chased the gleams of firelight; the tall clock ticked slowly +in the corner, and on the hearts of these two fell that content with life +and each other which is best expressed by silence. + +John sat at his wife's feet; his tired head was upon her knee, and he +could look up into her restful face, while he held one of her hands +across his lips. It was a good face to see: her clear brown eyes were +large and full, with heavy lids which drooped a little at the outer +corners, giving a look of questioning sincerity, which does not often +outlast childhood. Her bronze-brown hair was knotted low on her neck, and +rippled a little over a smooth white forehead. + +John had begun to stroke her hand softly, holding it up to shield his +eyes from the firelight, and twisting the plain band of her wedding ring +about. + +"What a dear hand," he said; "how strong and firm it is!" + +"It is large, at least," she answered, smiling. He measured it against +his own gaunt thin hand, which always had a nervous thrill in the pale +fingers. "You see, they are about the same size, but mine is certainly +much whiter. Just look at that ink-stain; that means you write too much. +I don't like you to be so tired in the evenings, John." + +"You rest me," he said, looking up into her face. "It is a rest even to +sit here beside you. Do you know, Helen," he went on, after a moment's +pause, "if I were in any pain, I mean any physical extremity, I would +have strength to bear it if I could hold your hand; it is so strong and +steady." + +She lifted her hand, and looked at it with amused curiosity, turning it +about, "to get the best light upon it." + +"I am in earnest," John said, smiling. "It is the visible expression of +the strength you are to me. With your help I could endure any pain. I +wonder," he went on, in a lower voice, as though thinking aloud, "if this +strength of yours could inspire me to bear the worst pain there could be +for me,--I mean if I had to make you suffer in any way?" + +Helen looked down at him, surprised, not quite understanding. + +"Suppose," he said,--"of course one can suppose anything,--that for your +best good I had to make you suffer: could I, do you think?" + +"I hope so," she answered gravely; "I hope I should give you strength to +do it." + +They fell again into their contented silence, watching the firelight, and +thinking tenderly each of the other. But at last Helen roused herself +from her reverie with a long, pleasant sigh of entire peace and comfort. + +"John, do you know, I have reached a conclusion? I'm not going to +prayer-meeting any more." + +John started. "Why, Helen!" he said, a thrill of pain in his voice. + +But Helen was not at all troubled. "No, dear. Feeling deeply as I do +about certain things, it is worse than useless for me to go and hear +Elder Dean or old Mr. Smith; they either annoy me or amuse me, and I +don't know which is worse. I have heard Mr. Smith thank the Lord that we +are not among the pale and sheeted nations of the dead, ever since I came +to Lockhaven. And Elder Dean's pictures of the eternal torments of the +damned, 'souls wreathing in sulphurous flames' (those were his words +to-night, John!), and then praising God for his justice (his justice!) +right afterwards,--I cannot stand it, dear. I do not believe in hell, +such a hell, and so it is absurd to go and listen to such things. But I +won't miss my walk with you," she added, "for I will come and meet you +every Wednesday evening, and we'll come home together." + +John had risen as she talked, and stood leaning against the mantel, his +face hidden by his hand. Her lightly spoken words had come with such a +shock, the blood leaped back to his heart, and for a moment he could not +speak. He had never allowed himself to realize that her indifference to +doctrine was positive unbelief; had his neglect encouraged her ignorance +to grow into this? + +At last he said very gently, "But, dearest, I believe in hell." + +"I know it," she answered, no longer carelessly, but still smiling, +"but never mind. I mean, it does not make any difference to me what you +believe. I wouldn't care if you were a Mohammedan, John, if it helped you +to be good and happy. I think that different people have different +religious necessities. One man is born a Roman Catholic, for instance, +though his father and mother may be the sternest Protestants. He cannot +help it; it is his nature! And you"--she looked up at him with infinite +tenderness in her brown eyes,--"you were born a Presbyterian, dear; you +can't help it. Perhaps you need the sternness and the horror of some of +the doctrines as a balance for your gentleness. I never knew any one as +gentle as you, John." + +He came and knelt down beside her, holding her face between his hands, +and looking into her clear eyes. "Helen," he said, "I have wanted to +speak to you of this; I have wanted to show you the truth. You will not +say you cannot believe in hell (in justice, Helen) when I prove"-- + +"Don't prove," she interrupted him, putting her hand softly across his +lips, "don't let us argue. Oh, a theological argument seems to me +sacrilege, and dogma can never be an antidote for doubt, John. I must +believe what my own soul asserts, or I am untrue to myself. I must begin +with that truth, even if it keeps me on the outskirts of the great Truth. +Don't you think so, dear? And I do not believe in hell. Now that is +final, John." + +She smiled brightly into his troubled face, and, seeing his anxiety, +hastened to save him further pain in the future. "Do not let us ever +discuss these things. After all, doctrine is of so little importance, and +argument never can result in conviction to either of us, for belief is a +matter of temperament, and I do so dislike it. It really distresses me, +John." + +"But, dearest," he said, "to deliberately turn away from the search for +truth is spiritual suicide." + +"Oh, you misunderstand me," she replied quickly. "Of course one's soul +always seeks for truth, but to argue, to discuss details, which after all +are of no possible importance, no more part of the eternal verities than +a man's--buttons are of his character! Now, remember," with smiling +severity, "never again!" She laid her head down on his shoulder. "We are +so happy, John, so happy; why should we disturb the peace of life? Never +mind what we think on such matters; we have each other, dear!" + +He was silenced; with her clinging arm about him, and her tender eyes +looking into his, he could not argue; he was the lover, not the preacher. + +He kissed her between her level brows; it was easy to forget his duty! +Yet his conscience protested faintly. "If you would only let me tell +you"-- + +"Not just now," she said, and Helen's voice was a caress. "Do you +remember how, that first time we saw each other, you talked of belief?" +It was so natural to drift into reminiscence, kneeling there in the +firelight by her side, John almost forgot how the talk had begun, and +neither of them gave a thought to the lateness of the hour, until they +were roused by a quick step on the path, and heard the little gate pushed +hurriedly open, shutting again with a bang. + +"Why, that's Gifford Woodhouse," John said, leaning forward to give the +fire that inevitable poke with which the coming guest is welcomed. + +"No, it can't be Giff," Helen answered, listening; "he always whistles." + +But it was Gifford. The quick-leaping flame lighted his face as he +entered, and Helen saw that, instead of its usual tranquil good-nature, +there was a worried look. + +"I'm afraid I'm disturbing you," he said, as they both rose to welcome +him, and there was the little confusion of lighting the lamp and drawing +up a chair. "Haven't I interrupted you?" + +"Yes," John replied simply, "but it is well you did. I have some writing +I must do to-night, and I had forgotten it. You and Helen will excuse me +if I leave you a little while?" + +Both the others protested: Gifford that he was driving Mr. Ward from his +own fireside, and Helen that it was too late for work. + +"No, you are not driving me away. My papers are up-stairs. I will see you +again," he added, turning to Gifford; and then he closed the door, and +they heard his step in the room above. + +The interruption had brought him back to real life. He left the joy which +befogged his conscience, and felt again that chill and shock which +Helen's words had given him, and that sudden pang of remorse for a +neglected duty; he wanted to be alone, and to face his own thoughts. His +writing did not detain him long, and afterwards he paced the chilly room, +struggling to see his duty through his love. But in that half hour +up-stairs he reached no new conclusion. Helen's antipathy to doctrine was +so marked, it was, as she said, useless to begin discussion; and it would +be worse than useless to urge her to come to prayer-meeting, if she did +not want to; it would only make her antagonistic to the truth. She was +not ready for the strong meat of the Word, which was certainly what his +elders fed to hungry souls at prayer-meetings. John did not know that +there was any reluctance in his own mind to disturb their harmony and +peace by argument; he simply failed to recognize his own motives; the +reasons he gave himself were all secondary. + +"I ought not to have come so late," Gifford said, "and it is a shame to +disturb Mr. Ward, but I did want to see you so much, Helen!" + +Helen's thoughts were following her husband, and it was an effort to +bring them back to Gifford and his interests, but she turned her tranquil +face to him with a gracious gentleness which never left her. "He will +come back again," she said, "and he will be glad to have this writing off +his mind to-night. I was only afraid he might take cold; you know he has +a stubborn little cough. Why did you want to see me, Giff?" + +She took some knitting from her work-table, and, shaking out its fleecy +softness, began to work, the big wooden needles making a velvety sound as +they rubbed together. Gifford was opposite her, his hands thrust moodily +into his pockets, his feet stretched straight out, and his head sunk on +his breast. But he did not look as though he were resting; an intent +anxiety seemed to pervade his big frame, and Helen could not fail to +observe it. She glanced at him, as he sat frowning into the fire, but he +did not notice her. + +"Something troubles you, Gifford." + +He started. "Yes," he said. He changed his position, leaning his elbows +on his knees, and propping his chin on his fists, and still scowling at +the fire. "Yes, I came to speak to you about it." + +"I wish you would," Helen answered. But Gifford found it difficult to +begin. + +"I've had a letter from aunt Ruth to-day," he said at last, "and it has +bothered me. I don't know how to tell you, exactly; you will think it's +none of my business." + +"Is there anything wrong at the rectory?" Helen asked, putting down her +work, and drawing a quick breath. + +"Oh, no, no, of course not," answered Gifford, "nothing like that. The +fact is, Helen--the fact is--well, plainly, aunt Ruth thinks that that +young Forsythe is in love with Lois." + +Gifford's manner, as he spoke, told Helen what she had only surmised +before, and she was betrayed into an involuntary expression of sympathy. + +"Oh," cried the young man, with an impatient gesture and a sudden flush +tingling across his face, "you misunderstand me. I haven't come to whine +about myself, or anything like that. I'm not jealous; for Heaven's sake, +don't think I am such a cur as to be jealous! If that man was worthy of +Lois, I--why, I'd be the first one to rejoice that she was happy. I want +Lois to be happy, from my soul! I hope you believe me, Helen?" + +"I believe anything you tell me," she answered gently, "but I don't quite +understand how you feel about Mr. Forsythe; every one speaks so highly of +him. Even aunt Deely has only pleasant things to say of 'young Forsythe,' +as she calls him." + +Gifford left his chair, and began to walk about the room, his hands +grasping the lapels of his coat, and his head thrown back in a troubled +sort of impatience. "That's just it," he said; "in this very letter aunt +Ruth is enthusiastic, and I can't tell you anything tangible against him, +only I don't like him, Helen. He's a puppy,--that's the amount of it. And +I thought--I just thought--I'd come and ask you if you supposed--if +you--of course I've no business to ask any question--but if you +thought"-- + +But Helen had understood his vague inquiry, "I should think," she said +"you would know that if he is what you call a _puppy_ Lois couldn't care +for him." + +Gifford sat down, and took her ball of wool, beginning nervously to +unwind it, and then wind it up again. + +"Perhaps she wouldn't see it," he said tentatively. + +"Ah, you don't trust her!" Helen cried brightly, "or you would not say +that. (Don't tie my worsted into knots!) When you write to Lois, why +don't you frankly say what you think of him?" + +"Oh, I could not," he responded quickly. "Don't you see, Helen, I'm a +young fellow myself, and--and you know Lois did not care for me when +I--told her. And if I said anything now, it would only mean that I was +jealous, that I wanted her myself. Whereas, I give you my word," striking +his fist sharply on his knee, "if he was fit for her, I'd rejoice; yes, +I--I love her so much that if I saw her happy with any other man (who was +worthy of her!) I'd be glad!" + +Helen looked doubtful, but did not discuss that; she ran her hand along +her needle, and gave her elastic work a pull. "Tell me more about him," +she said. + +But Gifford had not much to tell; it was only his vague distrust of the +man, which it was difficult to put into words. "A good out-and-out sinner +one can stand," he ended; "but all I saw of this Forsythe at the club and +about town only made me set him down as a small man, a--a puppy, as I +said. And I thought I'd talk to you about it, because, when you write to +Lois, you might just hint, you know." + +But Helen shook her head. "No, Gifford, that never does any good at all. +And I do not believe it is needed. The only thing to do now is to trust +Lois. I have no anxiety about her; if he is what you say, her own ideal +will protect her. Ah, Giff, I'm disappointed in you. I shouldn't have +thought you could doubt Lois." + +"I don't!" he cried, "only I am so afraid!" + +"But you shouldn't be afraid," Helen said, smiling; "a girl like Lois +couldn't love a man who was not good and noble. Perhaps, Gifford," she +ventured, after a moment's pause,--"perhaps it will be all right for you, +some time." + +"No, no," he answered, "I don't dare to think of it." + +Helen might have given him more courage, but John came in, and Gifford +realized that it was very late. "Helen has scolded me, Mr. Ward," he +said, "and it has done me good." + +John turned and looked at her. "Can she scold?" he said. And when Gifford +glanced back, as he went down the street, he saw them still standing in +the doorway in the starlight; Helen leaning back a little against John's +arm, so that she might see his face. The clear warm pallor of her cheek +glowed faintly in the frosty air. + +Gifford sighed as he walked on. "They are very happy," he thought. "Well, +that sort of happiness may never be for me, but it is something to love a +good woman. I have got that in my life, anyhow." + +Helen's confidence in her cousin's instinct might perhaps have been +shaken had she known what pleasure Lois found in the companionship of Mr. +Forsythe, and how that pleasure was encouraged by all her friends. That +very evening, while Gifford was pouring his anxieties into her ear, Lois +was listening to Dick's pictures of the gayeties of social life; the +"jolly times," as he expressed it, which she had never known. + +Dr. Howe was reading, with an indignant exclamation occasionally, a +scathing review of an action of his political candidate, and his big +newspaper hid the two young people by the fire, so that he quite forgot +them. Max seemed to feel that the responsibility of propriety rested upon +him, and he sat with his head on Lois's knee, and his drowsy eyes +blinking at Mr. Forsythe. His mistress pulled his silky ears gently, +or knotted them behind his head, giving him a curiously astonished and +grieved look, as though he felt she trifled with his dignity; yet he did +not move his head, but watched, with no affection in his soft brown eyes, +the young man who talked so eagerly to Lois. + +"That brute hates me," said Mr. Forsythe, "and yet I took the trouble to +bring him a biscuit to-day. Talk of gratitude and affection in animals. +They don't know what it means!" + +"Max loves me," Lois answered, taking the setter's head between her +hands. + +"Ah, well, that's different," cried Forsythe; "of course he does. I'd +like to know how he could help it. He wouldn't be fit to live, if he +didn't." + +Lois raised the hand-screen she held, so that Dick could only see the +curls about her forehead and one small curve of her ear. "How hot the +fire is!" she said. + +Dr. Howe folded his newspaper with much crackling and widely opened arms. +"Don't sit so near it. In my young days, the children were never allowed +to come any nearer the fireplace than the outside of the hearth-rug." +Then he began to read again, muttering, "Confound that reporter!" + +Dick glanced at him, and then he said, in a low voice, "Max loves you +because you are so kind to him, Miss Lois; it is worth while to be a dog +to have you"-- + +"Give him bones?" Lois cried hurriedly. "Yes, it is too hot in here, +father; don't you think so; don't you want me to open the window?" + +Dr. Howe looked up, surprised. "If you want to, child," he said. "Dear +me, I'm afraid I have not been very entertaining, Mr. Forsythe. What do +you think of this attack on our candidate? Contemptible, isn't it? What? +I have no respect for any one who can think it anything but abominable +and outrageous." + +"It's scandalous!" Dick answered,--and then in a smiling whisper to Lois, +he added, "I'm afraid to tell the doctor I'm a Democrat." + +But when Lois was quite alone that night, she found herself smiling in +the darkness, and a thrill of pride made her cheeks hotter than the fire +had done. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"Yes," said Miss Deborah Woodhouse, as she stood in the doorway of Miss +Ruth's studio, "yes, we must give a dinner party, sister. It is certainly +the proper thing to do, now that the Forsythes are going back to the +city. It is to be expected of us, sister." + +"Well, I don't know that it is expected of us," said Miss Ruth, who never +agreed too readily to any suggestion of Miss Deborah's; "but I think we +ought to do it. I meant to have spoken to you about it." + +Miss Ruth was washing some brushes, a task her soul abhorred, for it +was almost impossible to avoid some stain upon her apron or her hands; +though, to guard against the latter, she wore gloves. The corners of Miss +Ruth's mouth were drawn down and her eyebrows lifted up, and her whole +face was a protest against her work. On her easel was a canvas, where she +had begun a sketch purporting to be apple-blossoms. + +The studio was dark, for a mist of November rain blurred all the low gray +sky. The wide southwest window, which ran the length of the woodshed +(this part of which was devoted to art), was streaming with water, and +though the dotted muslin curtain was pushed as far back as it would go, +very little light struggled into the room. The dim engravings of nymphs +and satyrs, in tarnished frames, which had been hung here to make room +in the house for Miss Ruth's own productions, could scarcely be +distinguished in the gloom, and though the artist wore her glasses she +could not see to work. + +So she had pushed back her easel, and began to make things tidy for +Sunday. Any sign of disorder would have greatly distressed Miss Ruth. +Even her paint-tubes were kept scrupulously bright and clean, and nothing +was ever out of place. Perhaps this made the room in the woodshed a +little dreary, certainly it looked so now to Miss Deborah, standing in +the doorway, and seeing the gaunt whitewashed walls, the bare rafters, +and the sweeping rain against the window. + +"Do, sister," she entreated, "come into the house, and let us arrange +about the dinner." + +"No," said Miss Ruth, sighing, "I must wash these brushes." + +"Why not let Sarah do it?" asked the other, stepping over a little stream +of water which had forced itself under the threshold. + +"Now, surely, sister," said Miss Ruth pettishly, "you know Sarah would +get the color on the handles. But there! I suppose you don't know how +artistic people feel about such things." She stopped long enough to take +off her gloves and tie the strings of her long white apron a little +tighter about her trim waist; then she went to work again. + +"No, I suppose I don't understand," Miss Deborah acknowledged; "but never +mind, we can talk here, only it is a little damp. What do you think of +asking them for Thursday? It is a good day for a dinner party. You are +well over the washing and ironing, you know, and you have Wednesday for +the jellies and creams, besides a good two hours in the afternoon to get +out the best china and see to the silver. Friday is for cleaning up and +putting things away, because Saturday one is always busy getting ready +for Sunday." + +Miss Ruth demurred. "I should rather have it on a Friday." + +"Well, you don't know anything about the housekeeping part of it," said +Miss Deborah, promptly. "And I don't believe William Denner would want +to come then; you know he is quite superstitious about Friday. Beside, it +is not convenient for me," she added, settling the matter once for all. + +"Oh, I've no objection to Thursday," said Miss Ruth. "I don't know but +that I prefer it. Yes, we will have it on Thursday." Having thus asserted +herself, Miss Ruth began to put away her paints and cover her canvas. + +"It is a pity the whist was put off to-night," said Miss Deborah; "we +could have arranged it at the rectory. But if I see Adele Dale to-morrow, +I'll tell her." + +"I beg," said Miss Ruth quickly, "that you'll do nothing of the sort." + +"What!" exclaimed Miss Deborah. + +"We will write the invitations, if you please," said Miss Ruth loftily. + +"Fiddlesticks!" retorted the other. "We'll write the Forsythes, of +course, but the people at the rectory and Adele Dale?--nonsense!" + +"It is not nonsense," Miss Ruth answered; "it is _proper_, and it must be +done. I understand these things, Deborah; you are so taken up with your +cooking, you cannot really be expected to know. When you invite city +people to a formal dinner, everything must be done decently and in order. +It is not like asking the rector and Adele to drop in to tea any time." + +"Fudge!" responded Miss Deborah. + +A faint color began to show in Miss Ruth's faded cheek, and she set her +lips firmly. "The invitations should be written," she said. + +It was settled, as usual, by each sister doing exactly as she pleased. +Miss Deborah gave her invitations by word of mouth the next day, standing +in the rain, under a dripping umbrella, by the church porch, while on +Monday each of the desired guests received a formal note in Miss Ruth's +precise and delicate hand, containing the compliments of the Misses +Woodhouse, and a request for the honor of their company at dinner on +Thursday, November 12th, at half past six o'clock. + +A compromise had been effected about the hour. Miss Ruth had insisted +that it should be at eight, while Miss Deborah contended that as they +dined, like all the rest of Ashurst, at noon, it was absurd to make it +later than six, and Miss Ruth's utmost persuasion had only brought it to +half past. + +During these days of preparation Miss Ruth could only flutter upon the +outskirts of the kitchen, which just now was a solemn place, and her +suggestions were scarcely noticed, and never heeded. It was hard to have +no share in those long conversations between Sarah and her sister, and +not to know the result of the mysterious researches among the receipts +which had been written out on blue foolscap and bound in marbled +pasteboard before Miss Deborah was born. + +Her time, however, came. Miss Deborah owned that no one could arrange a +table like Miss Ruth. The tall silver candlesticks with twisted arms, the +fruit in the open-work china baskets, the slender-stemmed glasses for the +wines, the decanters in the queer old coasters, and the great bunch of +chrysanthemums in the silver punch-bowl in the centre,--no one could +place them so perfectly as her sister. + +"Ruth," she affirmed, "has a touch," and she contemplated the board with +great satisfaction. + +"Pray," said Miss Ruth, as she quietly put back in its place a fruit dish +which Miss Deborah had "straightened," "pray where are Mr. Dale's +comfits? They must be on the tray to be taken into the parlor." + +"Sarah will fetch them," answered Miss Deborah; and at that moment Sarah +entered with the candy and a stately and elaborate dish, which she placed +upon the sideboard. + +"Poor, dear man," said Miss Ruth. "I suppose he never gets all the candy +he wishes at home. I trust there is plenty for to-night, sister? But what +is that Sarah just brought in?" + +"Well," Miss Deborah replied, with anxious pride in her tone, "it is not +Easter, I know, but it does look so well I thought I'd make it, anyhow. +It is Sic itur ad astra." + +This dish had been "composed" by Miss Deborah many years ago, and was +considered by all her friends her greatest triumph. Dr. Howe had +christened it, declaring that it was of a semi-religious nature, but in +Miss Deborah's pronunciation the Latin was no longer recognizable. + +It consisted of an arrangement of strips of candied orange and lemon +peel, intended to represent a nest of straw. On it were placed jellied +creams in different colors, which had been run into egg-shells to +stiffen. The whole was intended to suggest a nest of new-laid eggs. The +housekeeper will at once recognize the trouble and expense of such a +dish, as the shells which served for moulds had first to be emptied of +their contents through a small hole in one end, hopelessly mixing the +whites and yolks, and leaving them useless for fine cookery. + +No wonder, then, that Miss Deborah's face beamed with pride. But Miss +Ruth's showed nothing but contempt. "That--that--barn-door dish!" she +ejaculated. + +"Barn-door?" faltered Miss Deborah. + +"Barn-yard, I mean," said her sister sternly. "The idea of having such +a thing! Easter is the only excuse for it. It is undignified,--it is +absurd,--it is--it is preposterous!" + +"It is good," Miss Deborah maintained stoutly. + +"I don't deny that," said Miss Ruth, thinking they would have it for +dinner the next day, and perhaps the next also,--for it takes more +than one day for a family of two to eat up the remnants of a dinner +party,--"but you must see it is out of place at a formal dinner. It +must not appear." + +Discussion was useless. Each was determined, for each felt her particular +province had been invaded. And each carried her point. The dish did not +appear on the table, yet every guest was asked if he or she would have +some "Sicituradastra"--for to the housemaid it was one word--which was on +the sideboard. + +But the anxieties of the dinner were not over even when the table was as +beautiful and stately as could be desired, and Miss Deborah was conscious +that every dish was perfect. The two little ladies, tired, but satisfied, +had yet to dress. Sarah had put the best black silks on the bed in each +room, but for the lighter touches of the toilette the sisters were their +own judges. Miss Deborah must decide what laces she should wear, and long +did Miss Ruth stand at her dressing-table, wondering whether to pin the +pale lavender ribbon at her throat or the silver-gray one. + +Miss Deborah was dressed first. She wore a miniature of her +great-grandfather as a pin, and her little fingers were covered with +rings, in strange old-fashioned settings. Her small figure had an unusual +dignity in the lustrous silk, which was turned away at the neck, and +filled with point-lace that looked like frosted cobwebs. The sleeves of +her gown were full, and gathered into a wristband over point-lace ruffles +which almost hid her little hands, folded primly in front of her. "Little +bishops" Miss Deborah called these sleeves, and she was apt to say that, +for her part, she thought a closely fitting sleeve was hardly modest. Her +full skirt rustled, as, holding herself very straight, she came into her +sister's room, that they might go down together. + +Miss Ruth was still in her gray linsey-woolsey petticoat, short enough to +show her trim ankles in their black open-worked silk stockings. She stood +with one hand resting on the open drawer of her bureau, and in the other +the two soft bits of ribbon, that held the faint fragrance of rose leaves +which clung to all her possessions. Miss Ruth would never have confessed +it, but she was thinking that Mr. Forsythe was a very genteel young man, +and she wished she knew which ribbon would be more becoming. + +"Ruth!" said Miss Deborah, in majestic disapproval. + +The younger sister gave a little jump of fright, and dropped the ribbons +hastily, as though she feared Miss Deborah had detected her thoughts. +"I--I'll be ready directly, sister." + +"I hope so, indeed," said Miss Deborah severely, and moved with +deliberate dignity from the room, while Miss Ruth, much fluttered, took +her dress from the high bedstead, which had four cherry-wood posts, +carved in alternate balloons and disks, and a striped dimity valance. + +She still realized the importance of the right ribbon, and the +responsibility of choice oppressed her; but it was too late for any +further thought. She shut her eyes tight, and, with a trembling little +hand, picked up the first one she touched. Satisfied, since Fate so +decided it, that gray was the right color, she pinned it at her throat +with an old brooch of chased and twisted gold, and gave a last glance +at her swinging glass before joining her sister in the parlor. The +excitement had brought a faint flush into her soft cheek, and her eyes +were bright, and the gray ribbon had a pretty gleam in it. Miss Ruth gave +her hair a little pat over each ear, and felt a thrill of forgotten +vanity. + +"It's high time you were down, Ruth," cried Miss Deborah, who stood on +the rug in front of the blazing fire, rubbing her hands nervously +together,--"high time!" + +"Why, they won't be here for a quarter of an hour yet, sister," protested +Miss Ruth. + +"Well, you should be here! I do hope they won't be late; the venison is +to be taken out of the tin kitchen precisely at five minutes of seven. +Do, pray, sister, step into the hall and see what o'clock it is. I really +am afraid they are late." + +Miss Ruth went, but had scarcely crossed the threshold when Miss Deborah +cried, "Come back, come back, Ruth! You must be here when they come," and +then bustled away herself to fetch the housemaid to be ready to open the +door, though, as Miss Ruth had said, it was a good quarter of an hour +before the most impatient guest might be expected. + +Miss Ruth went about, straightening a chair, or pulling an antimacassar +to one side or the other, or putting an ornament in a better light, and +then stopping to snuff the candles in the brass sconces on either side of +the old piano. This and her anxiety about the venison fretted Miss +Deborah so much, it was a great relief to hear the first carriage, and +catch a glimpse of Mrs. Dale hurrying across the hall and up the stairs, +her well-known brown satin tucked up to avoid a speck of mud or dust. + +Miss Deborah plucked Miss Ruth's sleeve, and, settling the lace at her +own throat and wrists, bade her sister stand beside her on the rug. "And +do, dear Ruth, try and have more repose of manner," she said, breathing +quite quickly with excitement. + +When Mrs. Dale entered, rustling in her shiny satin, with Mr. Dale +shambling along behind her, the sisters greeted her with that stately +affection which was part of the occasion. + +"So glad to see you, dear Adele," said Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth in +turn; and Mrs. Dale responded with equal graciousness, and no apparent +recollection that they had almost quarreled that very morning at the +post-office, when Mrs. Dale said that the first cloth to be removed at +a dinner should be folded in fours, and Miss Deborah that it should be +folded in threes. + +Mr. Denner was the next to arrive, and while he was still making his bow +the Forsythes came in; Dick looking over the heads of the little ladies, +as though in search of some one else, and his mother languidly +acknowledging that it was an effort to come out in the evening. Lois and +the rector came with Colonel Drayton, and Miss Deborah breathed a sigh of +relief that the venison would not be kept waiting. + +Then Miss Deborah took Mrs. Forsythe's arm, while Miss Ruth and Dick +closed the little procession, and they marched into the dining-room, and +took their places about the table, glittering with silver and glass, and +lighted by gleaming wax tapers. It had not occurred to the little ladies +to place Dick near Lois. Mrs. Drayton was the lady upon his right, and +Lois was between such unimportant people as Mr. Denner and Mr. Dale. + +Dick was the lion of the dinner, and all that he said was listened to +with deference and even awe. But it was a relief to Lois not to have +to talk to him. She sat now at Mr. Denner's side, listening to the +small stream of words bubbling along in a cheerful monotony, with +scarcely a period for her answers. She was glad it was so; for though +her apple-blossom face was drooped a little, and her gray eyes were not +often lifted, and she looked the embodiment of maiden innocence and +unworldliness, Lois was thinking the thoughts which occupied her much of +late; weighing, and judging, struggling to reach some knowledge of +herself, yet always in the same perplexity. Did she love Dick Forsythe? +There was no doubt in her mind that she loved the life he represented; +but further than this she could not go. Yet he was so kind, she thought, +and loved her so much. If, then and there, Dick could have whispered the +question which was trembling on his lips, Lois was near enough to love to +have said Yes. + +Dinner was nearly over; that last desultory conversation had begun, which +was to be ended by a bow from Miss Deborah to Mrs. Forsythe, and the +ladies were dipping their nuts in their wine, half listening, and half +watching for the signal to rise. + +"How much we miss Gifford on such an occasion!" said Mr. Dale to Miss +Ruth. + +"Yes," replied the little lady, "dear Giff! How I wish he were here! He +would so enjoy meeting Mr. Forsythe." + +Lois smiled involuntarily, and the current of her thoughts suddenly +turned. She saw again the fragrant dusk of the rectory garden, and heard +the wind in the silver poplar and the tremble in a strong voice at her +side. + +She was as perplexed as ever when the ladies went back to the parlor. +Mrs. Forsythe came to her, as they passed through the hall, and took the +young girl's hand in hers. + +"I shall miss you very much this winter, Lois," she said, in her mildly +complaining voice. "You have been very good to me; no daughter could have +been more thoughtful. And I could not have loved a daughter of my own +more." She gently patted the hand she held. "Dick is not very happy, my +dear." + +"I'm sorry," faltered Lois. + +They had reached the parlor door, and Mrs. Forsythe bent her head towards +the girl's ear. "I hope--I trust--he will be, before we leave Ashurst." + +Lois turned away abruptly; how could she grieve this gentle invalid! + +"She'll find out what Arabella Forsythe is, one of these days," Mrs. Dale +thought, "but it's just as well she should love her for the present." Nor +did she lose the opportunity of using her influence to bring about the +desired consummation. + +Lois had gone, at Miss Deborah's request, to the piano, and begun to +sing, in her sweet girlish voice, some old-fashioned songs which the +sisters liked. + +"Jamie's on the stormy sea!" sang Lois, but her voice trembled, and she +missed a note, for Mrs. Dale had left the group of ladies about the fire, +and bent over her shoulder. + +"You know they go on Saturday, Lois," she said. "Do, now, I beg of you, +be a sensible girl. I never saw a man so much in love. You will be +perfectly happy, if you will only be sensible! I hope you will be at home +alone to-morrow." + +When the gentlemen entered, Dick Forsythe was quick to make his way to +Lois, sitting in the glimmer of the wax-lights in the sconces, at the old +piano. + +She stopped, and let her hands fall with a soft crash on the yellow keys. + +"Do go on," he pleaded. + +"No," she said, "it is too cold over here; let us come to the fire," and +she slipped away to her father's side. After that she was silent until it +was time to say good-night, for no one expected her to speak, although +Dick was the centre of the group, and did most of the talking. Later in +the evening they had some whist, and after that, just before the party +broke up, Mr. Denner was asked to sing. + +He rose, coughed deprecatingly, and glanced sidewise at Mr. Forsythe; +he feared he was out of tune. But Miss Deborah insisted with great +politeness. + +"If Miss Ruth would be so good as to accompany me," said Mr. Denner, "I +might at least make the attempt." + +Miss Ruth was shy about playing in public, but Mr. Denner encouraged her. +"You must overcome your timidity, my dear Miss Ruth," he said. "I--I am +aware that it is quite painful; but one ought not to allow it to become +a habit, as it were. It should be conquered in early life." + +So Miss Ruth allowed him to lead her to the piano. There was a little +stir about finding the music, before they were ready to begin; then Mr. +Denner ran his fingers through his brown wig, and, placing his small lean +hands on his hips, rocked back and forth on his little heels, while he +sang in a sweet but somewhat light and uncertain voice,-- + + "Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, + Bonnie lassie! artless lassie! + Will ye wi' me tent the flocks, + Will ye be my dearie, O?" + +This was received with great applause; then every one said good-night, +assuring each sister that it had been a delightful evening; and finally +the last carriage rolled off into the darkness, and the Misses Woodhouse +were left, triumphantly exhausted, to discuss the dinner and the guests. + +The rector walked home with Mr. Denner, who was still flushed with the +praise of his singing, so Lois had the carriage all to herself, and tried +to struggle against the fresh impulse of irresolution which Mrs. +Forsythe's whispered "Good-night, Lois; be good to my boy!" had given +her. + +She went into the library at the rectory, and, throwing off her wrap, sat +down on the hearth-rug, and determined to make up her mind. But first she +had to put a fresh log on the andirons, and then work away with the +wheezy old bellows, until a leaping flame lighted the shadowy room. The +log was green, and, instead of deciding, she found herself listening to +the soft bubbling noise of the sap, and thinking that it was the little +singing ghosts of the summer birds. Max came and put his head on her +knee, to be petted, and Lois's thoughts wandered off to the dinner party, +and Mr. Denner's singing, and what good things Miss Deborah cooked, and +how much his aunts must miss Gifford; so that she did not even hear the +front door open, or know that Dick Forsythe had entered, until she heard +Max snarl, and some one said in a tone which lacked its usual assurance, +"I--I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Lois?" + +She was on her feet before he had a chance to help her rise, and looked +at him with the frankest astonishment and dismay. + +What would aunt Deely say, what would Miss Deborah think! A young woman +receiving a gentleman alone after ten at night! "Father is not home yet," +she said hastily, so confused and startled she scarcely knew what she was +saying. "How dark it is in here! The fire has dazzled my eyes. I'll get +a light." + +"Oh, don't," he said; "I like the firelight." But she had gone, and +came back again with Sally, who carried the lamps, and looked very much +surprised, for Sally knew Ashurst ways better than Mr. Forsythe did: her +young man always went home at nine. + +"How pleasant it was at Miss Deborah's!" Lois began, when Sally had gone +out, and she was left alone to see the anxiety in Dick's face. "Nobody +has such nice dinners as Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth." Lois's voice was +not altogether firm, yet, to her own surprise, she began to feel quite +calm, and almost indifferent; she knew why Dick had come, but she did not +even then know what her answer would be. + +"Yes--no--I don't know," he answered. "The fact is, I only seemed to +live, Miss Lois, until I could get here to see you to-night. I heard your +father say he was going home with Denner, and I thought you'd be alone. +So I came. I could not stand any more suspense!" he added, with something +like a sob in his voice. + +Lois's heart gave one jump of fright, and then was quiet. She thought, +vaguely, that she was glad he had rushed into it at once, so that she +need not keep up that terrible fencing, but she did not speak. She had +been sitting in a corner of the leather-covered sofa, and his excitement, +as he stood looking at her, made her rise. + +He grasped her hands in his, wringing them sharply as he spoke, not even +noticing her little cry of pain, or her efforts to release herself. "You +know I love you,--you know it! Why haven't you let me tell you so? Oh, +Lois, how lovely you are to-night,--how happy we shall be!" + +He kissed one of her hands with a sudden savage passion that frightened +her. "Oh--don't," she said, shrinking back, and pulling her hands away +from him. + +He looked at her blankly a moment, but when he spoke again it was gently. +"Did I frighten you? I didn't mean to; but you know I love you. That +hasn't startled you? Tell me you care for me, Lois." + +"But--but"--said Lois, sorry and ashamed, "I--don't!" + +The eager boyish face, so near her own, flushed with sudden anger. "You +don't? You must! Why--why, I love you. It cannot be that you really +don't--tell me?" + +But there was no doubt in Lois's mind now. "Indeed, Mr. Forsythe," she +said, "indeed, I am so sorry, but I don't--I can't!" + +A sullen look clouded his handsome face. "I cannot believe it," he said, +at length. "You have known that I loved you all summer; you cannot be so +cruel as to trifle with me now. You will not treat me so. Oh, I love +you!" There was almost a wail in his voice, and he threw himself down in +a chair and covered, his face with his hands. + +Lois did not speak. Her lip curled a little, but it was partly with +contempt for herself and her past uncertainty. "I am so sorry, so +grieved," she began. But he scarcely heard her, or at least he did not +grasp the significance of her words. + +He began to plead and protest. "We will be so happy if you will only +care for me. Just think how different your life will be; you shall have +everything in this world you want, Lois." + +She could not check his torrent of words, and when at last he stopped he +had almost convinced himself that she loved him. + +But she shook her head. "I cannot tell you how distressed I am, but I do +not love you." + +He was silent, as though trying to understand. + +"Won't you try and forget it? Won't you forgive me, and let us be +friends?" she said. + +"You really mean it? You really mean to make me wretched? Forget it? I +wish to Heaven I could!" + +Lois did not speak. There seemed to be nothing to say. + +"You have let me think you cared," he went on, "and I have built on it; +I have staked all my happiness on it; I am a ruined man if you don't love +me. And you coolly tell me you do not care for me! Can't you try to? I'll +make you so happy, if you will only make me happy, Lois." + +"Please--please," she protested, "do not say anything more; it never can +be,--indeed, it cannot!" + +Dick's voice had been tender a moment before, but it was hard now. +"Well," he said, "you have amused yourself all summer, I suppose. You +made me think you loved me, and everybody else thought so, too." + +The hint of blame kept Lois from feeling the sting of conscience. She +flung her head back, and looked at him with a flash of indignation in her +eyes. "Do you think it's manly to blame me? You had better blame yourself +that you couldn't win my love!" + +"Do you expect a man to choose his words when you give him his +death-blow?" he said; and then, "Oh, Miss Lois, if I wait, can't you +learn to care for me? I'll wait,--a year, if you say there's any hope. +Or do you love anybody else? Is that the reason?" + +"That has nothing to do with it," Lois cried, hotly, "but I don't." + +"Then," said Dick eagerly, "you must love me, only you don't recognize +it, not having been in love before. Of course it's different with a girl +who doesn't know what love is. Oh, say you do!" + +Lois, with quick compunction for her anger, was gentle enough now. "I +cannot say so. I wish you would forget me, and forgive me if you can. I'm +sorry to have grieved you,--truly I am." + +There was silence for a few minutes, only broken by a yawn from Max and +the snapping of the fire. + +"I tell you I cannot forget," the young man said, at last. "You have +ruined my life for me. Do you think I'll be apt to forget the woman +that's done that? I'll love you always, but life is practically over for +me. Remember that, the next time you amuse yourself, Miss Howe!" Then, +without another word, he turned on his heel and left her. + +Lois drew a long breath as she heard him slam the front door behind him, +and then she sat down on the rug again. She was too angry to cry, though +her hands shook with nervousness. But under all her excitement was the +sting of mortification and remorse. + +Max, with that strange understanding which animals sometimes show, +suddenly turned and licked her face, and then looked at her, all his love +speaking in his soft brown eyes. + +"Oh, Max, dear," Lois cried, flinging her arms around him, and resting +her cheek on his shining head, "what a comfort you are! How much nicer +dogs are than men!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Dr. Howe, with no thought of Mr. Forsythe's unceremonious call at the +rectory, had gone home with Mr. Denner. "One needs a walk," he said, +"after one of Miss Deborah's dinners. Bless my soul, what a housekeeper +that woman is!" + +"Just so," said Mr. Denner, hurrying along at his side,--"just so. Ah--it +has often occurred to me." + +And when the rector had left him at his white gateway between the +Lombardy poplars, Mr. Denner went into his library, and after stumbling +about to light his lamp, and stirring his fire to have a semblance, at +least, of cheer, he sat down and meditated further on this subject of +Miss Deborah's housekeeping. + +It was a dreary room, with lofty ceilings and few and narrow windows. The +house was much lower than the street, and had that piercing chill of +dampness which belongs to houses in a hollow, and the little gentleman +drew so close to the smouldering fire that his feet were inside the +fender. + +He leaned forward, and resting his elbows on his knees, propped his +chin on his hands, and stared at the smoke curling heavily up into the +cavernous chimney, where the soot hung long and black. It was very +lonely. Willie Denner, of course, had long ago gone to bed, and unless +the lawyer chose to go into the kitchen for company, where Mary was +reading her one work of fiction. "The Accounts of the Death Beds of +Eminent Saints," he had no one to speak to. Many a time before had he sat +thus, pondering on the solitude of his life, and contrasting his house +with other Ashurst homes. He glanced about his cold bare room, and +thought of the parlor of the Misses Woodhouse. How pleasant it was, how +bright, and full of pretty feminine devices! whereas his library--Mary +had been a hard mistress. One by one the domestic decorations of the +late lady of the house had disappeared. She could not "have things round +a-trapin' dust," Mary said, and her word was law. + +"If my little sister had lived," he said, crouching nearer the fire, +and watching a spark catch in the soot and spread over the chimney-back +like a little marching regiment, that wheeled and maneuvered, and then +suddenly vanished, "it would have been different. She would have made +things brighter. Perhaps she would have painted, like Miss Ruth; and +I have no doubt she would have been an excellent housekeeper. We +should have just lived quietly here, she and I, and I need never have +thought"--Mr. Denner flushed faintly in the firelight--"of marriage." + +Mr. Denner's mind had often traveled as far as this; he had even gone to +the point of saying to himself that he wished one of the Misses Woodhouse +would regard him with sentiments of affection, and he and Willie, free +from Mary, could have a home of their own, instead of forlornly envying +the rector and Henry Dale. + +But Mr. Denner had never said which Miss Woodhouse; he had always thought +of them, as he would have expressed it, "collectively," nor could he have +told which one he most admired,--he called it by no warmer name, even to +himself. + +But as he sat here alone, and remembered the pleasant evening he had had, +and watched his fire smoulder and die, and heard the soft sigh of the +rising wind, he reached a tremendous conclusion. He would make up his +mind. He would decide which of the Misses Woodhouse possessed his deeper +regard. "Yes," he said, as he lifted first one foot and then the other +over the fender, and, pulling his little coat-tails forward under his +arms, stood with his back to the fireplace,--"yes, I will make up my +mind; I will make it up to-morrow. I cannot go on in this uncertain way. +I cannot allow myself to think of Miss Ruth, and how she would paint +her pictures, and play my accompaniments, and then find my mind on Miss +Deborah's dinners. It is impracticable; it is almost improper. To-morrow +I will decide." + +To have reached this conclusion was to have accomplished a great deal. + +Mr. Denner went to bed much cheered; but he dreamed of walking about Miss +Ruth's studio, and admiring her pictures, when, to his dismay, he found +Mary had followed him, and was saying she couldn't bear things all of a +clutter. + +The next morning he ate his breakfast in solemn haste; it was to be an +important day for him. He watched Mary as she walked about, handing him +dishes with a sternness which had always awed him into eating anything +she placed before him, and wondered what she would think when she +heard--He trembled a little at the thought of breaking it to her; and +then he remembered Miss Ruth's kind heart, and he had a vision of a +pension for Mary, which was checked instantly by the recollection of +Miss Deborah's prudent economy. + +"Ah, well," he thought, "I shall know to-night. Economy is a good +thing,--Miss Ruth herself would not deny that." + +He went out to his office, and weighed and balanced his inclinations +until dinner-time, and again in the afternoon, but with no result. Night +found him hopelessly confused, with the added grievance that he had not +kept his word to himself. + +This went on for more than a week; by and by the uncertainty began to +wear greatly upon him. + +"Dear me!" he sighed one morning, as he sat in his office, his little +gaitered feet upon the rusty top of his air-tight stove, and his +brierwood pipe at his lips--it had gone out, leaving a bowl of cheerless +white ashes,--"dear me! I no sooner decide that it had better be Miss +Deborah--for how satisfying my linen would be if she had an eye on the +laundry, and I know she would not have bubble-and-squeak for dinner as +often as Mary does--than Miss Ruth comes into my mind. What taste she +has, and what an ear! No one notices the points in my singing as she +does; and how she did turn that carpet in Gifford's room; dear me!" + +He sat clutching his extinguished pipe for many minutes, when suddenly a +gleam came into his face, and the anxious look began to disappear. + +He rose, and laid his pipe upon the mantelpiece, first carefully knocking +the ashes into the wood-box which stood beside the stove. Then, standing +with his left foot wrapped about his right ankle and his face full of +suppressed eagerness, he felt in each pocket of his waistcoat, and +produced first a knife, then a tape measure, a pincushion, a bunch of +keys, and last a large, worn copper cent. It was smooth with age, but its +almost obliterated date still showed that it had been struck the year of +Mr. Denner's birth. + +Next, he spread his pocket handkerchief smoothly upon the floor, and +then, a little stiffly, knelt upon it. He rubbed the cent upon the cuff +of his coat to make it shine, and held it up a moment in the stream of +wintry sunshine that poured through the office window and lay in a golden +square on the bare floor. + +"Heads," said Mr. Denner,--"heads shall be Miss Deborah; tails, Miss +Ruth. Oh, dear me! I wonder which?" + +As he said this, he pitched the coin with a tremulous hand, and then +leaned forward, breathlessly watching it fall, waver from side to side, +and roll slowly under the bookcase. Too much excited to rise from his +knees, he crept towards it, and, pressing his cheek against the dusty +floor, he peered under the unwieldy piece of furniture, to catch a +glimpse of his penny and learn his fate. + +At such a critical moment it was not surprising that he did not, hear +Willie Denner come into the office. The little boy stood still, surprised +at his uncle's attitude. "Have you lost something, sir?" he said, but +without waiting for an answer, he fell on his knees and looked also. + +"Oh, I see,--your lucky penny; I'll get it for you in a minute." + +And stretching out flat upon his stomach, he wriggled almost under the +bookcase, while Mr. Denner rose and furtively brushed the dust from his +knees. + +"Here it is, uncle William," Willie said, emerging from the shadow of the +bookcase; "it was clear against the wall, and 'most down in a crack." + +Mr. Denner took the penny from the child, and rubbed it nervously between +his hands. + +"I suppose," he inquired with great hesitation, "you did not chance to +observe, William, which--ah--which side was up?" + +"No, sir," answered Willie, with amazement written on his little freckled +face; "it hadn't fallen, you know, uncle; it was just leaning against the +wall. I came in to bring my Latin exercise," he went on. "I'll run back +to school now, sir." + +He was off like a flash, saying to himself in a mystified way, "I wonder +if uncle William plays heads and tails all alone in the office?" + +Mr. Denner stood holding the penny, and gazing blankly at it, unconscious +of the dust upon his cheek. + +"That did not decide it," he murmured. "I must try something else." + +For Mr. Denner had some small superstitions, and it is doubtful if he +would have questioned fate again in the same way, even if he had not been +interrupted at that moment by the rector. + +Dr. Howe came into the office beating his hands to warm them, his face +ruddy and his breath short from a walk in the cold wind. He had come to +see the lawyer about selling a bit of church land; Mr. Denner hastily +slipped his penny into his pocket, and felt his face grow hot as he +thought in what a posture the rector would have found him had he come +a few minutes sooner. + +"Bless my soul, Denner," Dr. Howe said, when, the business over, he rose +to go, "this den of yours is cold!" He stooped to shake the logs in the +small stove, hoping to start a blaze. The rector would have resented any +man's meddling with his fire, but all Mr. Denner's friends felt a sort of +responsibility for him, which he accepted as a matter of course. + +"Ah, yes," replied Mr. Denner, "it is chilly here. It had not occurred +to me, but it is chilly. Some people manage to keep their houses very +comfortable in weather like this. It is always warm at the rectory, I +notice, and at Henry Dale's, or--ah--the Misses Woodhouse's,--always +warm." + +The rector, taking up a great deal of room in the small office, was on +his knees, puffing at the fire until his face was scarlet. "Yes. I don't +believe that woman of yours half looks after your comfort, Denner. Can't +be a good housekeeper, or she would not let this stove get so choked with +ashes." + +"No," Mr. Denner acknowledged--"ah--I am inclined to agree with you, +doctor. Not perhaps a really good housekeeper. But few women are,--very +few. You do not find a woman like Miss Deborah Woodhouse often, you +know." + +"True enough," said Dr. Howe, pulling on his big fur gloves. "That +salad of hers, the other night, was something to live for. What is +that?--'plunge his fingers in the salad bowl'--'tempt the dying anchorite +to eat,'--I can't remember the lines, but that is how I feel about Miss +Deborah's salad." The rector laughed in a quick, breezy bass, beat his +hands together, and was ready to start. + +"Yes," said Mr. Denner, "just so,--quite so. But Miss Deborah is a +remarkable woman, an estimable woman. One scarcely knows which is the +more admirable, Miss Deborah or Miss Ruth. Which should you--ah--which do +you most admire?" + +The rector turned, with one hand on the door-knob, and looked at the +lawyer, with a sudden gleam in his keen eyes. "Well, I am sure I don't +know. I never thought of comparing them. They are both, as you say, +estimable ladies." + +"Oh, yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Denner hurriedly. "I only mentioned it +because--it was merely in the most general way; I--I--did not mean to +compare--oh, not at all--of course I should never discuss a lady's worth, +as it were. I spoke in confidence; I merely wondered what your opinion +might be--not"--cried Mr. Denner, bursting into a cold perspiration of +fright to see how far his embarrassment had betrayed him--"not that I +really care to know! Oh, not at all!" + +The rector flung his head back, and his rollicking laugh jarred the very +papers on Mr. Denner's desk. + +"It is just as well you don't, for I am sure I could not say. I respect +them both immensely. I have from boyhood," he added, with a droll look. + +Mr. Denner coughed nervously. + +"It is not of the slightest consequence," he explained,--"not the +slightest. I spoke thoughtlessly; ah--unadvisedly." + +"Of course, of course; I understand," cried the rector, and forbore to +add a good-natured jest at Mr. Denner's embarrassment, which was really +painful. + +But when he was well out of hearing, he could not restrain a series of +chuckles. + +"By Jove!" he cried, clapping his thigh, "Denner!--Denner and Miss +Deborah! Bless my soul,--Denner!" + +His mirth, however, did not last long; some immediate annoyances of his +own forced themselves into his mind. + +Before he went to the lawyer's office, he had had a talk with Mrs. Dale, +which had not been pleasant; then a letter from Helen had come; and now +an anxious wrinkle showed itself under his fur cap, as he walked back to +the rectory. + +He had gone over to show Mr. Dale a somewhat highly seasoned sketch in +"Bell's Life;" in the midst of their enjoyment of it, they were +interrupted by Mrs. Dale. + +"I want to speak to you about Lois, brother. Ach! how this room smells of +smoke!" she said. + +"Why, what has the child done now?" said Dr. Howe. + +"You needn't say 'What has she done now?' as though I was always finding +fault," Mrs. Dale answered, "though I do try to do my Christian duty if +I see any one making a mistake." + +"Adele," remarked the rector, with a frankness which was entirely that +of a brother, and had no bearing upon his office, "you are always ready +enough with that duty of fault-finding." Mr. Dale looked admiringly at +his brother-in-law. "Why don't you think of the duty of praise, once in +a while? Praise is a Christian grace too much neglected. Don't you think +so, Henry?" + +But Mrs. Dale answered instead: "I am ready enough to praise when there +is occasion for it, but you can't expect me to praise Lois for her +behavior to young Forsythe. Arabella says the poor youth is completely +prostrated by the blow." + +"Bah!" murmured Mr. Dale under his breath; but Dr. Howe said +impatiently,-- + +"What do you mean? What blow?" + +"Why, Lois has refused him!" cried Mrs. Dale. "What else?" + +"I didn't know she had refused him," the rector answered slowly. "Well, +the child is the best judge, after all." + +"I am glad of it," said Mr. Dale,--"I am glad of it. He was no husband +for little Lois,--no, my dear, pray let me speak,--no husband for Lois. +I have had some conversation with him, and I played euchre with him once. +He played too well for a gentleman, Archibald." + +"He beat you, did he?" said the rector. + +"That had nothing to do with it!" cried Mr. Dale. "I should have said the +same thing had I been his partner"-- + +"Fudge!" Mrs. Dale interrupted, "as though it made the slightest +difference how a man played a silly game! Don't be foolish, Henry. Lois +has made a great mistake, but I suppose there is nothing to be done, +unless young Forsythe should try again. I hope he will, and I hope she +will have more sense." + +The rector was silent. He could not deny that he was disappointed, and as +he went towards the post-office, he almost wished he had offered a word +of advice to Lois. "Still, a girl needs her mother for that sort of +thing, and, after all, perhaps it is best. For really, I should be very +dull at the rectory without her." Thus he comforted himself for what was +only a disappointment to his vanity, and was quite cheerful when he +opened Helen's letter. + +The post-office was in that part of the drug-store where the herbs were +kept, and the letters always had a faint smell of pennyroyal or wormwood +about them. The rector read his letter, leaning against the counter, +and crumpling some bay leaves between his fingers; and though he was +interrupted half a dozen times by people coming for their mail, and +stopping to gossip about the weather or the church, he gained a very +uncomfortable sense of its contents. + +"More of this talk about belief," he grumbled, as he folded the last +sheet, covered with the clear heavy writing, and struck it impatiently +across his hand before he thrust it down into his pocket. "What in the +world is John Ward thinking of to let her bother her head with such +questions?" + +"I am surprised" Helen wrote, "to see how narrowness and intolerance seem +to belong to intense belief. Some of these elders in John's church, +especially a man called Dean (the father of my Alfaretta), believe in +their horrible doctrines with all their hearts, and their absolute +conviction make them blind to any possibility of good in any creed which +does not agree with theirs. Apparently, they think they have reached the +ultimate truth, and never even look for new light. That is the strangest +thing to me. Now, for my part, I would not sign a creed to-day which I +had written myself, because one lives progressively in religion as in +everything else. But, after all, as I said to Gifford the other day, the +_form_ of belief is of so little consequence. The main thing is to have +the realization of God in one's own soul; it would be enough to have +that, I should think. But to some of us God is only another name for the +power of good,--or, one might as well say force, and that is blind and +impersonal; there is nothing comforting or tender in the thought of +force. How do you suppose the conviction of the personality of God is +reached?" + +"All nonsense," said the rector, as he went home, striking out with +his cane at the stalks of golden-rod standing stiff with frost at the +roadside. "I shall tell Gifford he ought to know better than to have +these discussions with her. Women don't understand such things; they go +off at half cock, and think themselves skeptics. All nonsense!" + +But the rector need not have felt any immediate anxiety about his niece. +As yet such questions were only a sort of intellectual exercise; the time +had not come when they should be intensely real, and she should seek for +an answer with all the force of her life, and know the anguish of despair +which comes when a soul feels itself adrift upon a sea of unbelief. They +were not of enough importance to talk of to John, even if she had not +known they would trouble him; she and Gifford had merely spoken of them +as speculations of general interest; yet all the while they were shaping +and moulding her mind for the future. + +But the letter brought a cloud on Dr. Howe's face; he wanted to forget +it, he was impatient to shake off the unpleasant remembrances it roused, +and so engaged was he in this that by the time he had reached the rectory +Mr. Denner and his perplexities were quite out of his mind, though the +lawyer's face was still tingling with mortification. + +Mr. Denner could not keep his thoughts from his puzzle. Supper-time came, +and he was still struggling to reach a conclusion. He carved the cold +mutton with more than usual precision, and ate it in anxious abstraction. +The room was chilly; draughts from the narrow windows made the lamp +flare, and the wind from under the closed door raised the carpet in +swells along the floor. He did not notice Willie, who kept his hands in +his pockets for warmth, and also because he had nothing for them to do. + +When Mr. Denner rang for Mary, the boy said with anxious politeness, +"Was--was the mutton good, sir?" + +Willie had been well brought up,--he was not to speak unless spoken to; +but under the press of hunger nature rebelled, for his uncle, in his +absorption, had forgotten to help him to anything. + +Mr. Denner carved some meat for the child, and then sat and watched him +with such gloomy eyes, that Willie was glad to finish and push his chair +back for prayers. + +The table was cleared, and then Mary put the Bible in front of Mr. +Denner, and Jay's "Morning and Evening Exercises," open at the proper +day. Two candles in massive candlesticks on either side of his book gave +an unsteady light, and when they flickered threw strange shadows on the +ceiling. The frames which held the paintings of Mr. Denner's grandparents +loomed up dark and forbidding, and Mary, who always sat with her arms +rolled in her apron and her head bowed upon her ample breast, made a +grotesque shadow, which danced and bobbed about on the door of the +pantry. Mary generally slept through prayers, while for Willie it was +a time of nervous dread. The room was so dark, and his uncle's voice so +strange and rolling, the little fellow feared to kneel down and turn his +back to the long table with its ghastly white cloth; his imagination +pictured fearful things stealing upon him from the mysterious space +beneath it, and his heart beat so he could scarcely hear the words of the +prayer. But Mr. Denner enjoyed it. Not, however, because prayer was the +expression of his soul; family prayer was merely a dignified and proper +observance. Mr. Denner would not; have omitted it any more than he would +have neglected Sunday morning service; but he was scarcely more aware of +the words than Willie or Mary were. It was the reading which gave Mr. +Denner so much pleasure. + +Perhaps the cases he had never pleaded, the dramatic force which he +secretly longed to exert, expended themselves in the sonorous chapters +of Isaiah or in the wail of Jeremiah. Indeed, the thought had more than +once occurred to Mr. Denner that the rector, who read the service with +cheerful haste, might improve in his own delivery, could he listen to the +eloquence under which Mary and little Willie sat every evening. + +To-night it was the victory of Jephtha. The reading proceeded as usual: +Mary slumbered tranquilly at her end of the room; Willie counted the +number of panes of glass in the window opposite him, and wondered what +he should do if suddenly a white face should peer in at him out of the +darkness; Mr. Denner had reached the vow that whatsoever should first +meet Jephtha,--when, with his hand extended, his eyebrows drawn together, +and his whole attitude expressing the anxiety and fear of the conqueror, +he stopped abruptly. Here was an inspiration! + +Mary woke with a start. "Is it a stroke?" she exclaimed. But Willie, with +one frightened look at the window and the long table, slipped from his +chair to kneel, thinking the reading was over. The sound of his little +copper-toed boots upon the floor aroused Mr. Denner; he frowned +portentously. "_So Jephtha passed over unto the children of Ammon_," +he read on, "_to fight against them, and the Lord delivered them into +his hands_." + +When prayers were ended, however, and he was sitting in his library +alone, he said with a subdued glee, "That is the way to do it,--the one +I see first!" And Mr. Denner went to bed with a quiet mind, and the peace +which follows the decision of a momentous question. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +The cold that winter was more persistent and severe in the mountains than +down in Ashurst. + +At Lockhaven the river had been frozen over for a month, even above the +bridge and the mills, where the current was swiftest. Long lines of +sawdust, which had been coiling and whirling in the eddies, or stretching +across the black seething water, were caught in the ice, or blown about +with the powdered snow over its surface. + +Rafts could not come down the river, so the mills had no work to do, for +the logs on hand at the beginning of the cold snap had been sawed into +long rough planks, and piled in the lumber-yards, ready to be rafted as +soon as the thaw came. The cold, still air was sweet with the fragrance +of fresh pine boards, and the ground about the mills was covered with +sawdust, so that footsteps fell as silently as though on velvet, instead +of ringing sharp against the frozen ground. + +John Ward, walking wearily home from a long visit to a sick woman, came, +as he crossed the lumber-yards, upon a group of raftsmen; they had not +heard his approach, and were talking loudly, with frequent bursts of +drunken laughter. + +It was towards evening; the sky had been threatening all day, and when +the clouds lifted suddenly in the west, blown aside like tumultuous folds +of a gray curtain, the red sun sent a flood of color across the wintry +landscape; the bare branches of the trees were touched with light, and +the pools of black, clear ice gleamed with frosty fire. John's face had +caught the radiance. + +He had come up to the men so silently that he had been standing beside +them a moment before they noticed him, and then Tom Davis, with a start +of drunken fear, tried to hide the bottle which he held. + +"Damn you, mate, you're spillin' it!" cried one of the others, making an +unsteady lunge forward to seize the bottle. + +"Let up, let up," said Tom thickly. "Don't ye see the preacher?" Though +Davis was not one of his flock, he had the same reverence for the +preacher which his congregation felt. All Lockhaven loved and feared John +Ward. + +John had not spoken, even though a little boy, building block houses on a +heap of sawdust near the men, had come up and taken his hand with a look +of confident affection. + +The man who had saved the whiskey stumbled to his feet, and leaning +against a pile of lumber stood open-mouthed, waiting for the preacher's +rebuke; but Davis hung his head, and began to fumble for a pipe in his +sagging coat pocket; with clumsy fingers, scattering the tobacco from his +little bag, he tried to fill it. + +"Tom," the preacher said, at last, "I want you to come home with me, now. +And Jim, you will give me that bottle." + +"I can't go home, preacher. I've got to buy some things. She said I was +to buy some things for the brats." + +"Have you bought them?" John asked. Tom gave a silly laugh. + +"Not yet, preacher, not yet." + +"Listen, men," John said, with sudden sternness. "You have let this child +see you on the road to hell. If he can remember this sight, it will save +his soul." + +Tom Davis shrank as the preacher said "hell." He gave a maudlin cry, and +almost whimpered, "No, sir, no, preacher, I am a-goin' to reform." John +had known what note to touch in this debased nature. Not love, nor hope, +nor shame, would move Tom Davis, but fear stung him into a semblance of +sobriety. "I'll come along wi' you," he went on, swaying back and forth, +and steadying himself with a hand on the lumber against which he had been +leaning. "This is the last time, preacher. You won't see me this way no +more." + +Here he hiccoughed, and then laughed, but remembering himself instantly, +drew his forehead into a scowl. + +The other men slunk away, for the minister had taken the bottle, and Tom +Davis was following him through the narrow passages between the great +piles of boards, towards his house. + +The boy had gone back to his block house; the pile of sawdust in the +sheltered corner was more comfortable and not more cheerless than his own +home. + +John left Davis at his door. The man looked cowed, but there was no shame +in his face, and no sense of sin. It was unpleasant to be caught by the +preacher, and he was frightened by that awful word, which it was the +constant effort of his numb, helpless brain to forget. + +John went on alone. He walked slowly, with his eyes fixed absently on the +ground, thinking. "Poor Davis," he said, "poor fellow!" The man's future +seemed quite hopeless to the preacher, and, thinking of it, he recalled +Mrs. Davis's regret that he had not spoken of hell in his sermon. + +John sighed. His grief at Helen's unbelief was growing in his silence; +yet he realized the inconsistency of his love in hiding his sorrow from +her. + +"It is robbing her, not to let her share it," he thought, "but I dare not +speak to her yet." + +More than once during the winter he had tried to show her the truth and +the beauty of various doctrines, generally that of reprobation, but she +had always evaded discussion; sometimes lightly, for it seemed such a +small matter to her, but always firmly. + +The preacher loitered, stopping to look at the river and the gaunt line +of mills against the sky. He left the path, and went down to the edge of +the white ice, so full of air bubbles, it seemed like solid snow, and +listened to the gurgle of the hurrying water underneath. + +A shed was built close to the stream, to shelter a hand fire-engine. It +had not been used for so long that the row of buckets beside it, which +were for dipping up water to fill it, were warped and cracked, their iron +bands rusty, and out of one or two the bottom had fallen. The door of the +shed creaked on its one hinge, and John looked up surprised to see how +dark it had grown, then he turned towards home. + +"Yes," he said to himself, "I must show her her danger. It will grieve +her to force an argument upon her, and I don't think she has had one +unhappy hour since we were married; but even if it were not for her own +soul's sake, I must not let my people starve for the bread of life, to +spare her. I must not be silent concerning the danger of the sinner. But +it will trouble her,--it will trouble her." + +John had dallied with temptation so long, that it had grown bold, and did +not always hide under the plea of wisdom, but openly dared him to inflict +the pain of grieving his wife upon himself. He still delayed, yet there +were moments when he knew himself a coward, and had to summon every +argument of the past to his defense. But before he reached the parsonage +door he had lapsed into such tender thoughts of Helen that he said again, +"Not quite yet; it seems to annoy her so to argue upon such things. I +must leave it until I win her to truth by the force of its own +constraining beauty. Little by little I will draw her attention to it. +And I must gradually make my sermons more emphatic." + +Helen met him at the door, and drew him into the house. "You are so +late," she said, pressing his chill fingers against her warm cheek, and +chafing them between her hands. + +He stopped to kiss her before he took his coat off, smiling at her +happiness and his own. + +"How raw and cold it is!" she said. "Come into the study; I have a +beautiful fire for you. Is it going to snow, do you think? How is your +sick woman?" + +"Better," he answered, as he followed her into the room. "Oh, Helen, it +is good to be at home. I have not seen you since noon." + +She laughed, and then insisted that he should sit still, and let her +bring his supper into the study, and eat it there by the fire. He watched +her with a delicious luxury of rest and content; for he was very tired +and very happy. + +She put a little table beside him, covered with a large napkin; and then +she brought a loaf of brown bread and some honey, with a mould of yellow +butter, and last a little covered dish of chicken. + +"I broiled that for you myself," she explained proudly; "and I did not +mean to give you coffee, but what do you think?--the whole canister of +tea has disappeared. When Alfaretta went to get it for my supper, it had +gone." + +"Oh," John said, smiling, while Helen began to pour some cream into his +coffee from a flat little silver jug, "I forgot to mention it: the fact +is, I took that tea with me this afternoon,--I thought probably they had +none in the house; and I wish you could have seen the woman's joy at the +sight of it. I cooked some for her,--she told me how," he said +deprecatingly, for Helen laughed; "and she said it was very good, too," +he added. + +But Helen refused to believe that possible. "It was politeness, John," +she cried gayly, "and because, I suppose, you presented her with my +lacquered canister." + +"I did leave it," John admitted; "I never thought of it." But he forgot +even to ask forgiveness, as she bent towards him, resting her hand on +his shoulder while she put his cup beside him. + +"The fire has flushed your cheek," he said, touching it softly, the +lover's awe shining in his eyes; with John it had never been lost in the +assured possession of the husband. Helen looked at him, smiling a little, +but she did not speak. Silence with her told sometimes more than words. + +"It has been such a long afternoon," he said. "I was glad to hurry home; +perhaps that is the reason I forgot the canister." + +"Shall I send you back for it?" She put her lips for a moment against his +hand, and then, glancing out at the night for sheer joy at the warmth and +light within, she added, "Why, what is that glow, John? It looks like +fire." + +He turned, and then pushed back his chair and went to the window. + +"It does look like fire," he said anxiously. + +Helen had followed him, and they watched together a strange light, rising +and falling, and then brightening again all along the sky. Even as they +looked the upper heavens began to pulsate and throb with faint crimson. + +"It is fire!" John exclaimed. "Let me get my coat. I must go." + +"Oh, not now," Helen said. "You must finish your supper; and you are so +tired, John!" + +But he was already at the door and reaching for his hat. + +"It must be the lumber-yards, and the river is frozen!" + +"Wait!" Helen cried. "Let me get my cloak. I will go if you do," and a +moment later the parsonage door banged behind them, and they hurried out +into the darkness. + +The street which led to the lumber-yards had been silent and deserted +when John passed through it half an hour before, but now all Lockhaven +seemed to throng it. + +The preacher and his wife could hear the snapping and crackling of flames +even before they turned the last corner and saw the blaze, which, +sweeping up into the cold air, began to mutter before it broke with a +savage roar. They caught sight of Gifford's broad shoulders in the crowd, +which stood, fascinated and appalled, watching the destruction of what to +most of them meant work and wages. + +"Oh, Giff!" Helen said when they reached his side, "why don't they do +something? Have they tried to put it out?" + +"It's no use to try now," Gifford answered. "They didn't discover it in +time. It has made such headway, that the only thing to do is to see that +it burns out, without setting fire to any of the houses. Fortunately the +wind is towards the river." + +John shook his head; he was too breathless to speak for a moment; then he +said, "Something must be done." + +"There is no use, Mr. Ward," Gifford explained. But John scarcely heard +him; his people's comfort, their morality almost,--for poverty meant +deeper sin to most of them,--was burning up in those great square piles +of planks. + +"Men," he shouted, "men, the engine! To the river! Run! run!" + +"Nothing can be done," Gifford said, as the crowd broke, following the +preacher, who was far ahead of all; but he too started, as though to join +them, and then checked himself, and went back into the deserted street, +walking up and down, a self-constituted patrol. + +Almost every man had gone to the river. Tom Davis, however, with Molly +beside him, stood lolling against a tree, sobered, indeed, by the shock +of the fire, but scarcely steady enough on his legs to run. Another, who +was a cripple, swaying to and fro on his crutches with excitement, broke +into a storm of oaths because his companion did not do the work for which +he was himself too helpless. But Tom only gazed with bleared eyes at the +fire, and tried to stand up straight. + +The little crowd of women about Helen had been silenced at first by the +tumult and glare, but now broke into wild lamentations, and entreaties +that Heaven would send the engine soon, wringing their hands, and +sobbing, and frightening the children that clung about their skirts even +more than the fire itself. + +"How did it start?" Helen said, turning to the woman next to her, who, +shivering with excitement, held a baby in her arms, who gazed at the fire +with wide, tranquil eyes, as though it had been gotten up for his +entertainment. + +"They say," answered the woman, tossing her head in the direction of Tom +Davis,--"they say him and some other fellows was in 'mong the lumber this +afternoon, drinkin', you know, and smokin'. Most likely a match dropped, +or ashes from their pipes. Drunken men ain't reasonable about them +things," she added, with the simplicity of experience. "They don't stop +to think they're burnin' up money, an' whiskey too; for Dobbs don't trust +'em, now the mill is shut down." + +"Yes," said another woman who stood by, "them men! what do they care? +You," she shouted, shaking her fist at Tom,--"you'll starve us all, will +ye? an' your poor wife, just up from her sick bed! I do' know as she'll +be much worse off, though, when he is out of work," she added, turning to +Helen--"fer every blessed copper he has goes to the saloon." + +"Yer man's as bad as me," Tom protested, stung by her taunts and the +jeers of the cripple. + +"An' who is it as leads him on?" screamed the woman. "An' if he does take +a drop sometimes, it wasn't him as was in the lumber-yard this afternoon, +a-settin' fire to the boards, an' burnin' up the food and comfort o' the +whole town!" + +Tom hurled a torrent of profanity at the woman and the cripple +collectively, and then stumbled towards the road with the crowd, for the +fire was approaching the side of the yard where they stood, and beating +them back into the village street. + +The air was filled with the appalling roar and scream of the flames; +showers of sparks were flung up against the black sky, as with a +tremendous crash the inside of one of the piles would collapse; and +still the engine did not come. + +"Hurry! hurry!" the women shouted with hoarse, terrified voices, and some +ran to the edge of the bluff and looked down at the river. + +The men were hurrying; but as they drew the long-unused engine from its +shed, an axle broke, and with stiff fingers they tried to mend it. Some +had had to run for axes to break the ice, and then they pushed and +jostled each other about the square hole they had cut, to dip up the +dark, swift water underneath; and all the while the sky behind them grew +a fiercer red, and the very ice glared with the leaping flames. At last, +pulling and pushing, they brought the little engine up the slope, and +then with a great shout dragged it into the outskirts of the yard. They +pumped furiously, and a small jet of water was played upon the nearest +pile of boards. A hissing cloud of steam almost hid the volunteer +firemen, but the flames leaped and tossed against the sky, and the sparks +were sucked up into the cold air, and whirled in sheets across the river. + +John Ward came breathlessly towards his wife. "Are you all right, Helen? +You seemed too near; come back a little further." Then, suddenly seeing +the woman beside her with the baby in her arms, he stopped, and looked +about. "Where's your boy, Mrs. Nevins?" he said. The woman glanced around +her. + +"I--I'm not just sure, preacher." + +"Have you seen him since six o'clock?" + +"No--I--I ain't," the woman answered. There was something in John's face +which terrified her, though the mere absence of her son gave her no +uneasiness. + +"Go back, Helen," he said, quickly,--"go as far as that second house, +or I shall not feel sure you are safe. Mrs. Nevins, we must look for +Charley. I am afraid--he was in the lumber-yard this afternoon"-- + +John did not wait to hear the woman's shriek; he turned and ran from +group to group, looking for the boy whom he had seen building block +houses on the pile of sawdust; but the mother, pushing her baby into +a neighbor's arms, ran up and down like a mad woman. + +"My boy!" she cried; "Charley! Charley! He's in the fire,--my boy's in +the fire!" + +Tom Davis had heard the hurried words of the preacher, and the mother's +cries roused all the manhood drink had left. He hesitated a moment, and +then pushing Molly towards the cripple whose taunts still rung in his +ears, "Take care of the brat!" he said, and pulling off his coat, which +he wrapped about his head to guard himself from the falling boards, he +stooped almost double, and with his left arm bent before his face, and +his right extended to feel his way, he ran towards the fire, and +disappeared in the blinding smoke. + +Even Mrs. Nevins was silenced for a moment of shuddering suspense; and +when she tossed her arms into the air again, and shrieked, it was because +John Ward came towards her with Charley trotting at his side. + +"You should have looked after the child," the preacher said sternly. "I +found him on the other side of the yard, near the fire-engine." + +Mrs. Nevins caught the boy in her arms in a paroxysm of rage and joy; and +then she thought of Tom. + +"Oh, preacher," she cried, "preacher! he's run in after him, Tom Davis +has!" + +"_There?_" John said, pointing to the fire. "God help him!" + +There was no human help possible. Tom had run down between two long piles +of boards, not yet in flames, but already a sheet of fire swept madly +across the open space. They could only look at each other, dumb with +their own helplessness, and wait. How long this horror of expectation +lasted no one knew, but at last, as if from the very mouth of hell, Tom +Davis came, staggering and swaying,--his singed coat still rolled about +his head, and his hands stretched blindly out. + +John Ward ran towards him, and even the cripple pressed forward to take +his hand. But with unseeing eyes he stood a moment, and then fell forward +on his face. They lifted him, and carried him back into the street, away +from the glare of light; there were plenty of kindly hands and pitying +words, for most of the crowd had gathered about him; even the men who had +brought the engine followed, for their efforts to subdue the fire were +perfectly futile. + +They laid him down on the stiff frozen grass by the roadside; but Molly +clung so tightly about his neck, that the preacher could scarcely move +her to put his hand upon Tom's heart; Helen lifted the little girl, and +laid her own wet cheek against the child's. + +The group of men and women stood awed and silent about the prostrate +form, waiting for John to raise his head from the broad, still breast; +when he lifted it, they knew all was over. + +Whether the shock of the heat and tumult, coming upon the stupor of +intoxication, and paralyzing the action of the heart, or whether a blow +from a burning plank, had killed him, no one could know. The poor sodden, +bloated body was suddenly invested with the dignity of death; and how +death had come was for a little while a secondary thought. + +"He is dead," John said. "He has died like a brave man!" + +He stood looking down at the body for some moments, and no one spoke. +Then, as there was a stir among those who stood near, and some one +whispered that Mrs. Davis must be told, the preacher looked away from +the dead man's face. + +"Poor soul," he said, "poor soul!" + +A few light flakes of snow were beginning to fall in that still, +uncertain way which heralds a storm; some touched the dead face with pure +white fingers, as though they would hide the degraded body from any eyes +less kind than God's. + +Helen, who had gone further back into the street that Molly might not +look again at her father, came to John's side. + +"I will take Molly home with me," she said; "tell Mrs. Davis where she +is." + +"Gifford is here to go with you?" John asked, with that quick tenderness +which never left him. Then he turned away to help in carrying the dead +man to his home. + +The silent procession, with its awful burden, went back through the +streets, lighted yet by the pulsing glare of the fire. John walked beside +the still figure with his head bent upon his breast. That first impulse +of human exultation in a brave deed was gone; there was a horror of pity +instead. Just before they reached Tom's home, he stopped, by a gesture, +the men who bore the body. + +"Oh, my people," he said, his hands stretched out to them, the snow +falling softly on his bared head, "God speaks to you from the lips of +this dead man. Listen to his words: the day or the hour knoweth no man; +and are you ready to face the judgment-seat of Christ? Oh, be not +deceived, be not deceived! Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also +reap." + +It was long past midnight when the knot of men about Tom Davis's door +dispersed; the excitement of the fire faded before that frank interest in +death, which such people have no hesitation in expressing. Society veils +it with decent reserve, and calls it morbid and vulgar, yet it is +ineradicably human, and circumstances alone decide whether it shall be +confessed. + +But when the preacher came out of the house, all was quiet and deserted. +The snow, driving in white sheets down the mountains, was tinged with a +faint glow, where, in a blinding mist it whirled across the yards; it had +come too late to save the lumber, but it had checked and deadened the +flames, so that the few unburned planks only smouldered slowly into +ashes. + +John had told Mrs. Davis of her loss with that wonderful gentleness which +characterized all his dealings with sorrow. He found her trying to quiet +her baby, when he went in, leaving outside in the softly falling snow +that ghastly burden which the men bore. She looked up with startled, +questioning eyes as he entered. He took the child out of her arms, and +hushed it upon his breast, and then, with one of her shaking hands held +firm in his, he told her. + +Afterwards, it seemed to her that the sorrow in his face had told her, +and that she knew his message before he spoke. + +Mrs. Davis had not broken into loud weeping when she heard her husband's +fate, and she was very calm, when John saw her again, after all had been +done which was needful for the dead; only moving nervously about, trying +to put the room into an unusual order. John could not bear to leave her; +knowing what love is, his sympathy for her grief was almost grief itself; +yet he had said all that he could say to comfort her, all that he could +of Tom's bravery in rushing into the fire, and it seemed useless to stay. +But as he rose to go, putting the child, who had fallen asleep in his +arms, down on the bed, Mrs. Davis stopped him. + +She stood straightening the sheet which covered Tom's face, creasing its +folds between her fingers, and pulling it a little on this side or that. + +"Mr. Ward," she said, "he was drunk, Tom was." + +"I know it," he answered gently. + +"He went out with some money this forenoon," she went on; "he was to buy +some things for the young ones. He didn't mean to drink; he didn't mean +to go near the saloon. I _know_ it. Mrs. Shea, she came in a bit after he +went, and she said she seen him comin' out of the saloon, drunk. But he +didn't mean it. Then you brought him home. But, bein' started, preacher, +he could not help it, an' he'd been round to Dobbs's again, 'fore he seen +the fire." + +"Yes," John said. + +Still smoothing the straight whiteness of the sheet, she said, with a +tremor in her voice:-- + +"If he didn't want to, preacher--if he didn't mean to--perhaps it wasn't +a sin? and him dying in it!" + +Her voice broke, and she knelt down and hid her face in the dead man's +breast. She did not think of him now as the man that beat her when he was +drunk, and starved the children; he was the young lover again. The dull, +brutal man and the fretful, faded woman had been boy and girl once, and +had had their little romance, like happier husbands and wives. + +John did not answer her, but a mist of tears gathered in his eyes. + +Mrs. Davis raised her head and looked at him. "Tell me, you don't think +it will be counted a sin to him, do you? You don't think he died in sin?" +she asked almost fiercely. + +"I wish I could say I did not," he answered. + +She threw her hands up over her head with a shrill cry. + +"You don't think he's lost? Say you don't, preacher,--say you don't!" + +John took her hands in his. "Try and think," he said gently, "how brave +Tom was, how nobly he faced death to save Charley. Leave the judgments +of God to God; they are not for us to think of." + +But she would not be put off in that way. Too weak to kneel, she had sunk +upon the floor, leaning still against the bed, with one thin, gaunt arm +thrown across her husband's body. + +"You think," she demanded, "that my Tom's lost because he was drunk +to-night?" + +"No," he said, "I do not think that, Mrs. Davis." + +"Is he saved?" she cried, her voice shrill with eagerness. + +John was silent. She clutched his arm with her thin fingers, and shook it +in her excitement; her pinched, terrified face was close to his. + +"He wasn't never converted,--I know that,--but would the Lord have cut +him off, sudden-like, in his sin, if He wasn't goin' to save him?" + +"We can only trust his wisdom and his goodness." + +"But you think he was cut off in his sins--you think--my Tom's lost!" + +The preacher did not speak, but the passionate pity in his eyes told her. +She put her hands up to her throat as though she were suffocating, and +her face grew ghastly. + +"Remember, God knows what is best for his children," John said. "He +sends this grief of Tom's death to you in his infinite wisdom. He loves +you,--He knows best." + +"Do you mean," asked the woman slowly, "that it was best fer Tom he +should die?" + +"I mean this sorrow may be best for you," he answered tenderly. "God +knows what you need. He sends sorrow to draw our souls nearer to Him." + +"Oh," she exclaimed, her voice broken and hoarse, "I don't want no good +fer me, if Tom has to die fer it. An' why should He love me instead o' +Tom? Oh, I don't want his love, as wouldn't give Tom another chance! He +might 'a' been converted this next revival, fer you would 'a' preached +hell,--I know you would, then. No, I don't want no good as comes that +way. Oh, preacher, you ain't going to say you think my Tom's burning in +hell this night, and me living to be made better by it? Oh, no, no, no!" +She crawled to his feet, and clasped his knees with her shaking arms. +"Say he isn't,--say he isn't!" + +But the presence of that dead man asserted the hopelessness of John's +creed; no human pity could dim his faith, and he had no words of comfort +for the distracted woman who clung to him. He could only lift her and try +to soothe her, but she did not seem to hear him until he put her baby in +her arms; at the touch of its little soft face against her drawn cheek, +she trembled violently, and then came the merciful relief of tears. She +did not ask the preacher again to say that her husband was not lost; she +had no hope that he would tell her anything but what she already knew. +"The soul that sinneth, it shall die." She tried, poor thing, to find +some comfort in the words he spoke of God's love for her; listening with +a pathetic silence which wrung his heart. + +When John left her, beating his way home through the blinding snow, his +face was as haggard as her own. He could not escape from the ultimate +conclusion of his creed,--"He that believeth not shall be damned." Yet he +loved and trusted completely. His confidence in God's justice could not +be shaken; but it was with almost a groan that he said, "O my God, my +God, justice and judgment are the habitation of thy throne; mercy and +truth shall go before thy face! But justice with mercy,--justice first!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +The snow fell all that night, but the day broke exquisitely clear upon a +white and shining world. The sky was blue and sparkling, and the keen +north wind had carved the drifts into wonderful overhanging curves, like +the curling crests of breakers. + +John Ward went early to Mrs. Davis's. The sharp agony of the night before +was over; there was even a momentary complacency at the importance of +death, for the room was full of neighbors, whose noisy sympathy drove her +despair of her husband's fate from her mind. But when she saw John, her +terror came back, and she began to be silent, and not so ready to tell +the story of the dead man's bravery to each one that entered. But with +the people who were not immediately affected, the excitement of Tom's +death could scarcely last. + +By the afternoon his widow was for the most part alone. Helen had thought +it would be so, and waited until then to go and see her. But first she +went into her kitchen, and she and Alfaretta packed a little basket with +cold meat, and sweet, snowy bread, and some jam, for the children. + +"They do say," Alfaretta said, as she tucked the corners of the napkin +under the wicker cover,--"they do say Tom Davis went straight to the bad +place, last night. He wasn't never converted, you know; but somehow, +seein' as he really thought he was going to save that Charley, seein' as +he died for him, as you might say, it don't seem like as if it was +just"--Alfaretta lowered her voice a little--"as if it was just--fair. Do +you think he went there, Mrs. Ward?" + +"I know he did not," Helen answered promptly. "I don't think about hell +quite as you do, Alfaretta. I cannot believe God punishes people +eternally; for if He is good, He could not be so cruel. Why, no human +being would be so cruel as that, and do you think we ought to believe +that men are better and kinder than God?" + +Alfaretta looked confused. "Well, but justice?" + +"Justice!" Helen said. "Would it be just if I put a little child where it +was certain to fall down, and then punish it for falling? The child did +not ask to be put there. So God puts us here, where we must sin; would it +be just to punish us eternally for his own work?" + +Alfaretta shook her head, and sighed. "Well, I don't know but yer right, +though the preacher don't say so." + +Helen did not speak for a moment, and then said quietly, "Perhaps +not,--not yet; but he will say so some day. He is so good himself, you +know, Alfaretta, he cannot bear to think every one else does not love and +serve God, too; and it seems to him as though they ought to be punished +if they don't." + +This was a very lame explanation, but it closed the discussion, and she +hurried away from the honest, searching eyes of her servant, which she +felt must see through the flimsy excuse. Her eyes burned with sudden +tears that blurred the white landscape, it hurt her to excuse her +husband's belief even to herself, and gave her a feeling of disloyalty to +him: for a moment she weakly longed to creep into the shelter of the +monstrous error in which she felt he lived, that they might be one there, +as in everything else. "Yet it does not matter," she said to herself, +smiling a little. "We love each other. We know we don't think alike on +doctrinal points, but we love each other." + +She stopped a moment at the lumber-yard. The ghastly blackness of the +ruin glared against the snow-covered hills and the dazzling blue of the +sky; here and there a puff of steam showed where the melting snow on the +cooler beams dripped on the hot embers below. Some scattered groups of +lumbermen and their forlorn wives braved the cold, and stood talking the +fire over, for, after all, it was the immediate interest; death would not +come to them for years, perhaps, but where were they going to get money +for their families during the spring? There could be no rafting down the +river until after the loggers had brought their rafts from up in the +mountains, to be sawed into planks. + +Alfaretta's father, who stood contemplating the ruins, and moralizing +when any one would stop to listen to him, had pointed this out. Mr. Dean +was a carpenter, and kept a grocery store as well, so he could pity the +lumbermen from the shelter of comparative affluence. When he saw the +preacher's wife, he came over to speak to her. + +"Well, ma'am," he said, "the dispensations of Providence is indeed +mysterious,--that the river should have been froze last night!" + +Mr. Dean had a habit of holding his mouth open a moment before he spoke, +and looking as though he felt that his listener was impatient for his +words, which were always pronounced with great deliberation. Helen had +very little patience with him, and used to answer his slowly uttered +remarks with a quickness which confused him. + +"It would be more mysterious if it were not frozen, at this time of +year," she replied, almost before he had finished speaking. She was in +haste to reach Mrs. Davis, and she had no time to hear Elder Dean's +platitudes. + +He began to open his beak-like mouth in an astonished way, when a +by-stander interrupted him: "I suppose this here sudden death in our +midst" (it was easy to fall into pious phraseology in the presence of +Elder Dean) "will be made the subject of the prayer-meeting to-night?" + +"It will," said Mr. Dean solemnly,--"it will. It is an awful example to +unbelievers. An' it is a lesson to the owners not to allow smoking in the +yards." Then, with a sharp look at Helen out of his narrow eyes, he +added, "I haven't seen you at prayer-meeting, lately, Mrs. Ward. It is a +blessed place, a blessed place: the Lord touches sinners' hearts with a +live coal from off his altar; souls have been taught to walk in the +light, in the light of God." Mr. Dean prolonged the last word in an +unctuous way, which he reserved for public prayer and admonition. + +Helen did not answer. + +But the elder was not rebuffed. "I hope we will see you soon," he said. +"A solemn season of revival is approaching. Why have you stayed away so +long, Mrs. Ward?" + +Annoyed at the impertinence of his questions, Helen's face flushed a +little. + +"I do not like the prayer-meeting," she answered quietly; but before the +elder could recover from the shock of such a statement, Mrs. Nevins had +come up to speak to him. + +"Have you seen Mrs. Davis yet, Mr. Dean?" she said. "She took on awful, +last night; the neighbors heard her. 'T was after twelve 'fore she was +quiet." + +"Yes, I saw her," responded the elder, shaking his head in a pompous way. +"I went to administer consolation. I'm just coming from there now. It is +an awful judgment on that man: no chance for repentance, overtook by +hell, as I told Mrs. Davis, in a moment! But the Lord must be praised for +his justice: that ought to comfort her." + +"Good heavens!" cried Helen, "you did not tell that poor woman her +husband was overtaken by hell?" + +"Ma'am," said Mr. Dean, fairly stuttering with astonishment at the +condemnation of her tone--"I--I--did." + +"Oh, shame!" Helen said, heedless of the listeners around them. "How +dared you say such a thing? How dared you libel the goodness of God? +Tom Davis is not in hell. A man who died to save another's life? Who +would want the heaven of such a God? Oh, that poor wife! How could you +have had the heart to make her think God was so cruel?" + +There was a dead silence; Elder Dean was too dumfounded to speak, and the +others, looking at Helen's eyes flashing through her tears of passionate +pain, were almost persuaded that she was right. They waited to hear more, +but she turned and hurried away, her breath quick, and a tightened +feeling in her throat. + +The elder was the first to break the spell of her words, but he opened +his lips twice before a sound came. "May the Lord forgive her! Tom Davis +not in hell? Why, where's the good of a hell at all, then?" + +Helen's heart was burning with sympathy for the sorrow which had been so +cruelly wounded. She had forgotten the reserve which respect for her +husband's opinions always enforced. "It is wicked to have said such a +thing!" she thought, as she walked rapidly along over the creaking snow. +"I will tell her it is not true,--it never could be true." + +The path through the ragged, unkempt garden in front of the tenement +house was so trodden that the snow was packed and hard. The gate swung +back with a jar and clatter, and two limp frosted hens flew shrieking out +from the shelter of the ash-heap behind it. The door was open, and Helen +could see the square of the entry, papered, where the plaster had not +been broken away, with pale green castles embowered in livid trees. On +either side was the entrance to a tenement; a sagging nail in one of the +door-posts held a coat and a singed and battered hat. Here Helen knocked. + +Mrs. Davis was in the small inner room, but came out as her visitor +entered, wiping the soapsuds from her bare arms on her dingy gingham +apron. On the other side of the room, opposite the door, was that awful +Presence, which silenced even the voices of the children. + +"I'm washing," the woman said, as she gave her hand to Helen. "It is +Tom's best shirt,--fer to-morrow." + +Helen took the hand, wrinkled and bleached with the work it had done, and +stroked it gently; she did not know what to say. This was not the grief +she had thought of,--a woman working calmly at her wash-tub, while her +husband lay dead in the next room. Helen could see the tub, with the mist +of steam about it, and the wash-board, and the bar of yellow soap. + +She followed Mrs. Davis back to her work, and sat down on a bench, out of +the way of a little stream of water which had dripped from the leaking +tub, and trickled across the floor. She asked about the children, and +said she had brought some food for them; she knew it was so hard to have +to think of housekeeping at such a time. + +But the widow scarcely listened; she stood lifting the shirt from the +water, and rubbing it gently between her hard hands, then dipping it back +into the suds again. Once she stopped, and drew the back of her wet hand +across her eyes, and once Helen heard her sigh; yet she did not speak of +her sorrow, nor of Elder Dean's cruel words. For a little while the two +women were silent. + +"Mrs. Davis," Helen said, at last, "I'm so sorry." + +It was a very simple thing to say, but it caught the woman's ear; it was +different from any of the sympathy to which, in a dull, hopeless way, she +had listened all that morning. The neighbors had sighed and groaned, and +told her it was "awful hard on her," and had pitied Tom for his terrible +death; and then Mr. Dean had come, with fearful talk of justice, and of +hell. + +A big tear rolled down her face, and dropped into the tub. "Thank you, +ma'am," she said. + +She made a pretense of turning towards the light of the one small window +to see if the shirt was quite clean; then she began to wring it out, +wrapping the twist of wet linen about her wrist. When she spoke again, +her voice was steady. + +"Elder Dean 'lows I oughtn't to be sorry; he says I'd ought to be +resigned to God's justice. He says good folks ought to be glad when +sinners go to the bad place, even if they're belonging to them. He 'lows +I'd oughtn't to be sorry." + +"I am sure you have a right to be sorry Tom is dead," Helen said,--the +woman's composure made her calm, too,--"but I do not believe he is in any +place now that need make you sorry. I do not believe what Elder Dean said +about--hell." + +Mrs. Davis looked at her, a faint surprise dawning in her tired eyes, and +shook her head. "Oh, I'm not sayin' that he ain't right. I'm not sayin' +Tom ain't in the bad place, ner that it ain't justice. I'm a Christian +woman. I was convicted and converted when I wasn't but twelve years old, +and I know my religion. Tom--he wasn't no Christian, he didn't ever +experience a change of heart: it was always like as if he was just going +to be converted, when he wasn't in drink; fer he was good in his heart, +Tom was. But he wasn't no Christian, an' I'm not sayin' he isn't lost. +I'm only sayin',"--this with a sudden passion, and knotting her tremulous +hands hard together,--"I'm only sayin' I can't love God no more! Him +havin' all the power--and then look at Tom an' me"-- + +Helen tried to speak, but Mrs. Davis would not listen. "No," she cried, +"yer the preacher's wife, but I must say it. He never give Tom a chance, +an' how am I goin' to love Him now? Tom,"--she pointed a shaking finger +at the coffin in the next room,--"born, as you might say, drinkin'. His +father died in a drunken fit, and his mother give it to her baby with her +milk. Then, what schoolin' did he get? Nothin', 'less it was his mother +lickin' him. Tom's often told me that. He hadn't no trade learned, +neither,--just rafted with men as bad as him. Is it any wonder he wasn't +converted?" + +"I know all that," Helen began to say gently, but Mrs. Davis could not +check the torrent of her despairing grief. + +"He didn't have no chance; an' he didn't ask to be born, neither. God put +him here, an' look at the way He made him live; look at this house; see +the floor, how the water runs down into that corner: it is all sagged an' +leanin'--the whole thing is rotten look at that one window, up against +the wall; not a ray of sunshine ever struck it. An' here's where God's +made us live. Six of us, now the baby's come. Children was the only thing +we was rich in, and we didn't have food enough to put in their mouths, or +decent clothes to cover 'em. Look at the people 'round us here--livin' in +this here row of tenements--drinkin', lying' swearin'. What chance had +Tom? God never give him any, but He could of, if He'd had a mind to. So +I can't love Him, Mrs. Ward,--I can't love Him; Him havin' all the power, +and yet lettin' Tom's soul go down to hell; fer Tom couldn't help it, and +him livin' so. I ain't denyin' religion, ner anything like that--I'm a +Christian woman, an' a member--but I can't love Him, so there's no use +talkin'--I can't love Him." + +She turned away and shook the shirt out, hanging it over the back of a +chair in front of the stove, to dry. Helen had followed her, and put her +arm across the thin, bent shoulders, her eyes full of tears, though the +widow's were hard and bright. + +"Oh, Mrs. Davis," she cried, "of course you could not love a God who +would never give Tom a chance and then punish him; of course you could +not love Him! But he is not punished by being sent to hell; indeed, +indeed, he is not. If God is good, He could not be so cruel as to give +a soul no chance, and then send it to hell. Don't ever think that Tom, +brave fellow, is there! Oh, believe what I say to you!" + +Mrs. Davis seemed stupefied; she looked up into those beautiful +distressed brown eyes, and her dry lips moved. + +"You don't think," she said, in a hoarse, hurried whisper--"you're not +saying--_Tom isn't in hell_?" + +"I know he is not, I know it! Justice? it would be the most frightful +injustice, because, don't you see," she went on eagerly, "it is just as +you said,--Tom had no chance; so God could not punish him eternally for +being what he had to be, born as he was, and living as he did. I don't +know anything about people's souls when they die,--I mean about going to +heaven,--but I do know this: as long as a soul lives it has a chance for +goodness, a chance to turn to God. There is no such place as hell!" + +"But--but"--the widow faltered, "he was cut off in his sins. The preacher +wouldn't say but he was lost!" Her words were a wail of despair. + +Helen groaned; she was confronted by her loyalty to John, yet the +suffering of this hopeless soul! "Listen," she said, taking Mrs. Davis's +hands in hers, and speaking slowly and tenderly, while she held the weak, +shifting eyes by her own steady look, "listen. I do not know what the +preacher would say, but it is not true that Tom is lost; it is not true +that God is cruel and wicked; it is not true that, while Tom's soul +lives, he cannot grow good." + +The rigid look in the woman's face began to disappear; her hopeless +belief was shaken, not through any argument, but by the mere force of the +intense conviction shining in Helen's eyes. + +"Oh," she said appealingly, and beginning to tremble, "are you true with +me, ma'am?" + +"I am true, indeed I am!" Helen answered, unconscious that her own tears +fell upon Mrs. Davis's hands; the woman looked at her, and suddenly her +face began to flush that painful red which comes before violent weeping. + +"If you're true, if you're right, then I can be sorry. I wouldn't let +myself be sorry while I couldn't have no hope. Oh, I can be that sorry it +turns me glad!" + +The hardness was all gone now; she broke into a storm of tears, saying +between her sobs, "Oh, I'm so glad--I'm so glad!" + +A long time the two women sat together, the widow still shaken by gusts +of weeping, yet listening hungrily to Helen's words, and sometimes even +smiling through her tears. The hardship of loss to herself and her +children was not even thought of; there was only intense relief from +horrible fear; she did not even stop to pity Tom for the pain of death; +coming out of that nightmare of hell, she could only rejoice. + +The early sunset flashed a sudden ruddy light through the window in the +front room, making a gleaming bar on the bare whitewashed wall, and +startling Helen with the lateness of the hour. + +"I must go now," she said, rising. "I will come again to-morrow." + +Mrs. Davis rose, too, lifting her tear-stained face, with its trembling +smile, towards her deliverer. "Won't you come in the other room a +minute?" she said. "I want to show you the coffin. I got the best I +could, but I didn't have no pride in it. It seems different now." + +They went in together, Mrs. Davis crying quietly. Tom's face was hidden, +and a fine instinct of possession, which came with the strange uplifting +of the moment, made his wife shrink from uncovering it. + +She stroked the varnished lid of the coffin, with her rough hands, as +tenderly as though the poor bruised body within could feel her touch. + +"How do you like it?" she asked anxiously. "I wanted to do what I could +fer Tom. I got the best I could. Mr. Ward give me some money, and I +spent it this way. I thought I wouldn't mind going hungry, afterwards. +You don't suppose,"--this with a sudden fear, as one who dreads to fall +asleep lest a terrible dream may return,--"you don't suppose I'll forget +these things you've been tellin' me, and think _that_ of Tom?" + +"No," Helen answered, "not if you just say to yourself that I told you +what Mr. Dean said was not true. Never mind if you cannot remember the +reasons I have given you,--I'll tell them all to you again; just try and +forget what the elder said." + +"I will try," she said; and then wavering a little, "but the preacher, +Mrs. Ward?" + +"The preacher," Helen answered bravely, "will think this way, too, some +day, I know." And then she made the same excuse for him which she had +given Alfaretta, with the same pang of regret. + +"Yes, ma'am," the woman said, "I see. I feel now as though I could love +God real hard 'cause He's good to Tom. But Mrs. Ward, the preacher must +be wonderful good, fer he can think God would send my Tom to hell, and +yet he can love Him! I couldn't do it." + +"Oh, he is good!" Helen cried, with a great leap of her heart. + +The wind blew the powdered snow about, as she walked home in the cold +white dusk, piling it in great drifts, or leaving a ridge of earth swept +bare and clean. The blackened lumber-yards were quite deserted in the +deepening chill which was felt as soon as the sun set; the melting snow +on the hot, charred planks had frozen into long icicles, and as she +stopped to look at the ruin one snapped, and fell with a splintering +crash. + +One of those strangely unsuggested remembrances flashed into her mind: +the gleam of a dove's white wing against the burning blue of a July sky, +the blaze of flowers in the rectory garden, and the subtle, penetrating +fragrance of mignonette. Perhaps the contrast of the intense cold and the +gathering night brought the scene before her; she sighed; if she and John +could go away from this grief and misery and sin, which they seemed +powerless to relieve, and from this hideous shadow of Calvinism! + +"After all," she thought, hurrying along towards home and John, "Mrs. +Davis is right,--it is hard to love Him. He does not give a chance to +every one; none of us can escape the inevitable past. And that is as hard +as to be punished unjustly. And there is no help for it all. Oh, where is +God?" + +Just as she left the lumber-yard district, she heard her name called, and +saw Gifford Woodhouse striding towards her. "You have been to those poor +Davises I suppose," he said, as he reached her side, and took her empty +basket from her hand. + +"Yes," she answered, sighing. "Oh, Gifford, how dreadful it all is,--the +things these people say, and really believe!" Then she told him of Elder +Dean, and a little of her talk with Mrs. Davis. Gifford listened, his +face growing very grave. + +"And that is their idea of God?" he said, as she finished. "Well, it is +mine of the devil. But I can't help feeling sorry you spoke as you did to +the elder." + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Well," he said, "to assert your opinion of the doctrine of eternal +damnation as you did, considering your position, Helen, was scarcely +wise." + +"Do you mean because I am the preacher's wife?" she remonstrated, +smiling. "I must have my convictions, if I am; and I could not listen to +such a thing in silence. You don't know John, if you think he would +object to the expression of opinion." Gifford dared not say that John +would object to the opinion itself. "But perhaps I spoke too forcibly; +I should be sorry to be unkind, even to Elder Dean." + +"Well," Gifford said doubtfully, "I only hope he may not feel called upon +to 'deal with you.'" + +They laughed, but the young man added, "After all, when you come to +think of it, Helen, there is no bigotry or narrowness which does not +spring from a truth, and nothing is truer than that sin is punished +eternally. It is only their way of making God responsible for it,--not +ourselves,--and arranging the details of fire and brimstone, which is so +monstrous. Somebody says that when the Calvinists decided on sulphur they +did not know the properties of caustic potash. But there are stages of +truth; there's no use knocking a man down because he is only on the first +step of the ladder, which you have climbed into light. I think belief in +eternal damnation is a phase in spiritual development." + +"But you don't really object to my protest?" she said. "Come, Giff, the +truth must be strong enough to be expressed." + +"I don't object to the protest," he answered slowly, "but I hope the +manner of it will not make things difficult for Mr. Ward." + +Helen laughed, in spite of her depression. "Why, Gifford," she said, "it +is not like you to be so apprehensive, and over so small a matter, too. +Mr. Dean has probably forgotten everything I said, and, except that I +mean to tell him, John would never hear a word about it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The winter was passing very quietly in Ashurst; the only really great +excitement was Helen's letter about the fire and Colonel Drayton's attack +of gout. + +Life went on as it had as far back as any one cared to remember, with the +small round of church festivals and little teas, and the Saturday evening +whist parties at the rectory. But under monotonous calm may lurk very +wearing anxiety, and this was the case in Ashurst. + +Mr. Denner endeavored, with but indifferent success, to conceal the +indecision which was still preying upon his mind. For the suggestion +gained from Jephtha had proved useless. He had, indeed, tried to act upon +it. A day or two after the thought had come to him which so interrupted +family prayers, Mr. Denner sallied forth to learn his fate. It was +surprising how particular he was about his linen that morning,--for he +went in the morning,--and he arrayed himself in his best clothes; he saw +no impropriety, considering the importance of the occasion, in putting on +his evening coat. He even wore his new hat, a thing he had not done more +than half a dozen times--at a funeral perhaps, or a fair--since he bought +it, three years before. + +It was a bright, frosty day, and the little gentleman stepped briskly +along the road towards the house of the two sisters. He felt as +light-hearted as any youth who goes a-wooing with a reasonable certainty +of a favorable answer from his beloved. He even sang a little to himself, +in a thin, sweet voice, keeping time with his stick, like a drum-major, +and dwelling faithfully on all the prolonged notes. + +"Believe me," sang Mr. Denner,-- + + "'Believe me, if all those endearing young charms + Which I gaze on so fondly to-day'"-- + +Mr. Denner's rendering of charms was very elaborate. But while he was +still lingering on the last word, disappointment overtook him. + +Coming arm in arm down the road were two small figures. Mr. Denner's +sight was not what it once was; he fumbled in the breast of his +bottle-green overcoat for his glasses, as a suspicion of the truth +dawned upon him. + +His song died upon his lips, and he turned irresolutely, as though to +fly, but it was too late; he had recognized at the same moment Miss +Deborah and Miss Ruth Woodhouse. By no possibility could he say which he +had seen first. + +He advanced to meet them, but the spring had gone from his tread and +the light from his eye; he was thrown back upon his perplexities. The +sisters, still arm in arm, made a demure little bow, and stopped to say +"Good-morning," but Mr. Denner was evidently depressed and absent-minded. + +"I wonder what's the matter with William Denner, sister?" Miss Ruth said, +when they were out of hearing. + +"Perhaps he's troubled about his housekeeping," answered Miss Deborah. +"I should think he might be, I must say. That Mary of his does keep him +looking so! And I have no doubt she is wasteful; a woman who is +economical with her needle and thread is pretty apt not to be saving in +other things." + +"What a pity he hasn't a wife!" commented Miss Ruth. "Adele Dale says +he's never been in love. She says that that affair with Gertrude Drayton +was a sort of inoculation, and he's been perfectly healthy ever since." + +"Very coarse in dear Adele to speak in that way," said Miss Deborah +sharply. "I suppose he never has gotten over Gertrude's loss. Yet, if his +sister-in-law had to die, it is a pity it wasn't a little sooner. He was +too old when she died to think of marriage." + +"But, dear Deborah, he is not quite too old even yet, if he found a +person of proper age. Not too young, and, of course, not too old." + +Miss Deborah did not reply immediately. "Well, I don't know; perhaps +not," she conceded. "I do like a man to be of an age to know his own +mind. That is why I am so surprised at Adele Dale's anxiety to bring +about a match between young Forsythe and Lois, they are neither of them +old enough to know their own minds. And it is scarcely delicate in Adele, +I must say." + +"He's a very superior young man," objected Miss Ruth. + +"Yes," Miss Deborah acknowledged; "and yet"--she hesitated a little--"I +think he has not quite the--the modesty one expects in a young person." + +"Yes, but think how he has seen the world, sister!" cried Miss Ruth. "You +cannot expect him to be just like other young people." + +"True," said Miss Deborah, nodding her head; "and yet"--it was evident +from her persistence that Miss Deborah had a grievance of some kind--"yet +he seems to have more than a proper conceit. I heard him talk about +whist, one evening at the rectory; he said something about a person,--a +Pole, I believe,--and his rules in regard to 'signaling.' I asked him if +he played," Miss Deborah continued, her hands showing a little angry +nervousness; "and he said, 'Oh, yes, I learned to play one winter in +Florida!' Learned to play in a winter, indeed! To achieve whist"--Miss +Deborah held her head very straight--"to achieve whist is the work +of a lifetime! I've no patience with a young person who says a thing like +that." + +Miss Ruth was silenced for a moment; she had no excuse to offer. + +"Adele Dale says the Forsythes are coming back in April," she said, at +last. + +"Yes, I know it," answered Miss Deborah. "I suppose it will all be +arranged then. I asked Adele if Lois was engaged to him;--she said, 'Not +formally.' But I've no doubt there's an understanding." + +Miss Deborah was so sure of this that she had even mentioned it casually +to Gifford, of course under the same seal of confidence with which it had +been told her. + +It was quite true that Dick and his mother were to return to Ashurst. +After storming out of the rectory library the night of the Misses +Woodhouse's dinner party, Dick had had a period of hatred of everything +connected with Ashurst; but that did not last more than a month, and was +followed by an imploring letter to Lois. Her answer brought the anger +back again, and then its reaction of love; this see-saw was kept up, +until his last letter had announced that he and his mother were coming +to take the house they had had before, and spend the summer. + +"We will come early," he wrote. "I cannot stay away. I have made mother +promise to open the house in April, so in a month more I shall see you. +I had an awful time to get her to come; she hates the country except in +summer, but at last she said she would. She knows why I want to come, and +she would be so happy if"--and then the letter trailed off into a wail of +disappointment and love. + +Impatient and worried, Lois threw the pages into the fire, and had a +malicious satisfaction in watching the elaborate crest curl and blacken +on the red coals. "I wish he'd stay away," she said; "he bothers me to +death. I hate him! What a silly letter!" + +It was so silly, she found herself smiling, in spite of her annoyance. +Now, to feel amusement at one's lover is almost as fatal as to be bored +by him. But poor Dick had no one to tell him this, and had poured out his +heart on paper, in spite of some difficulty in spelling, and could not +guess that he was laughed at for his pains. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were rewarded for their walk into Ashurst by a +letter from Gifford, which made them quite forget Mr. Denner's looks, and +Mrs. Dale's bad taste in being a matchmaker. + +He would be at home for one day the next week; business had called him +from Lockhaven, and on his way back he would stay a night in Ashurst. +The little ladies were flurried with happiness. Miss Deborah prepared +more dainties than even Gifford's healthy appetite could possibly +consume, and Miss Ruth hung her last painting of apple-blossoms in his +bedroom, and let her rose jar stand uncovered on his dressing-table for +two days before his arrival. When he came, they hovered about him with +small caresses and little chirps of affection, as though they would +express all the love of the months in which they had not seen him. + +Gifford had thought he would go to the rectory in the evening, and +somehow the companionship of his aunts while there had not occupied his +imagination; but it would have been cruel to leave them at home, so after +tea, having tasted every one of Miss Deborah's dishes, he begged them to +come with him to see Dr. Howe. They were glad to go anywhere if only with +him, and each took an arm, and bore him triumphantly to the rectory. + +"Bless my soul," said Dr. Howe, looking at them over his glasses, as they +came into the library, "it is good to see you again, young man! How did +you leave Helen?" He pushed his chair back from the fire, and let his +newspapers rustle to the floor, as he rose. Max came and sniffed about +Gifford's knees, and wagged his tail, hoping to be petted. Lois was the +only one whose greeting was constrained, and Gifford's gladness withered +under the indifference in her eyes. + +"She doesn't care," he thought while he was answering Dr. Howe, and +rubbing Max's ears with his left hand. "Helen may be right about +Forsythe, but she doesn't care for me, either." + +"Sit here, dear Giff," said Miss Ruth, motioning him to a chair at her +side. + +"There's a draught there, dear Ruth," cried Miss Deborah anxiously. "Come +nearer the fire, Gifford." But Gifford only smiled good-naturedly, and +leaned his elbow on the mantel, grasping his coat collar with one hand, +and listening to Dr. Howe's questions about his niece. + +"She's very well," he answered, "and the happiest woman I ever saw. Those +two people were made for each other, doctor." + +"Well, now, see here, young man," said the rector, who could not help +patronizing Gifford, "you'll disturb that happiness if you get into +religious discussions with Helen. Women don't understand that sort of +thing; young women, I mean," he added, turning to Miss Deborah, and then +suddenly looking confused. + +Gifford raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well, Helen will reason, you know; she +is not the woman to take a creed for granted." + +"She must," the rector said, with a chuckle, "if she's a Presbyterian. +She'll get into deep water if she goes to discussing predestination and +original sin, and all that sort of thing." + +"Oh," said Gifford lightly, "of course she does not discuss those things. +I don't think that sort of theological rubbish had to be swept out of her +mind before the really earnest questions of life presented themselves. +Helen is singularly free from the trammels of tradition--for a woman." + +Lois looked up, with a little toss of her head, but Gifford did not even +notice her, nor realize how closely she was following his words. + +"John Ward, though," Gifford went on, "is the most perfect Presbyterian +I can imagine. He is logical to the bitter end, which is unusual, I +fancy. I asked him his opinion concerning a certain man, a fellow named +Davis,--perhaps Helen wrote of his death--I asked Ward what he thought of +his chances for salvation; he acknowledged, sadly enough, that he thought +he was damned. He didn't use that word, I believe," the young man added, +smiling, "but it amounted to the same thing." + +There was an outcry from his auditors. "Abominable!" said Dr. Howe, +bringing his fist heavily down on the table. "I shouldn't have thought +that of Ward,--outrageous!" + +Gifford looked surprised. "What a cruel man!" Lois cried; while Miss +Deborah said suddenly,-- + +"Giff, dear, have those flannels of yours worn well?" But Gifford +apparently did not hear her. + +"Why, doctor," he remonstrated, "you misunderstand Ward. And he is not +cruel, Lois; he is the gentlest soul I ever knew. But he is logical, he +is consistent; he simply expresses Presbyterianism with utter truth, +without shrinking from its conclusions." + +"Oh, he may be consistent," the rector acknowledged, with easy transition +to good-nature, "but that doesn't alter the fact that he's a fool to +say such things. Let him believe them, if he wants to, but for Heaven's +sake let him keep silent! He can hold his tongue and yet not be a +Universalist. _Medio tutissimus ibis_, you know. It will be sure to +offend the parish, if he consigns people to the lower regions in such +a free way." + +"There is no danger of that," Gifford said; "I doubt if he could say +anything on the subject of hell too tough for the spiritual digestion of +his flock. They are as sincere in their belief as he is, though they +haven't his gentleness; in fact, they have his logic without his light; +there is very little of the refinement of religion in Lockhaven." + +"What a place to live!" Lois cried. "Doesn't Helen hate it? Of course she +would never say so to us, but she _must_! Everybody seems so dreadfully +disagreeable; and there is really no one Helen could know." + +"Why, Helen knows them all," answered Gifford in his slow way, looking +down at the girl's impulsive face. + +"Lois," said her father, "you are too emphatic in your way of speaking; +be more mild. I don't like gush." + +"Lois punctuates with exclamation points," Gifford explained +good-naturedly, meaning to take the sting out of Dr. Howe's reproof, +but hurting her instead. + +"But, bless my soul," said the rector, "what does Helen say to this sort +of talk?" + +"I don't think she says anything, at least to him;" Gifford answered. "It +is so unimportant to Helen, she is so perfectly satisfied with Ward, his +opinions are of no consequence. She did fire up, though, about Davis," +and then he told the story of Elder Dean and Helen's angry protest. + +Dr. Howe listened, first with grave disapproval, and then with positive +irritation. + +"Dean," Gifford concluded, "has taken it very much to heart; he told +me--he's a client of mine, a stupid idiot, who never reasoned a thing out +in his life--he told me that 'not to believe in eternal damnation was to +take a short cut to atheism.' He also confided to me that 'a church which +could permit such a falling from the faith was in a diseased condition.' +I don't believe that opinion has reached Ward, however. It would take +more grit than Dean possesses to dare to find fault with John Ward's wife +to her husband." + +"What folly!" cried the rector, his face flushed with annoyance. "What +possessed Helen to say such a thing! She ought to have had more sense. +Mark my words, that speech of hers will make trouble for Ward. I don't +understand how Helen could be so foolish; she was brought up just as Lois +was, yet, thank Heaven, her head isn't full of whims about reforming a +community. What in the world made her express such an opinion if she had +it, and what made her have it?" + +Dr. Howe had risen, and walked impatiently up and down the room, and now +stood in front of Gifford, with a forefinger raised to emphasize his +words. "There is something so absurd, so unpleasant, in a young woman's +meddling with things which don't belong to her, in seeing a little mind +struggle with ideas. Better a thousand times settle down to look after +her household, and cook her husband's dinner, and be a good child." + +Lois laughed nervously. "She has a cook," she said. + +"Don't be pert, Lois, for Heaven's sake," answered her father, though +Miss Deborah had added,-- + +"Gifford says dear Helen is a very good housekeeper." + +"Pray," continued the rector, "what business is it of hers what people +believe, or what she believes herself, for that matter, provided she's a +good girl, and does her duty in that station of life where it has pleased +God to put her,--as the wife of a Presbyterian minister? 'Stead of that +she tries to grapple with theological questions, and gets into hot water +with the parish. 'Pon my word, I thought better of the child! I'll write +and tell her what I think of it." (And so he did, the very next day. But +his wrath had expended itself in words, and his letter showed no more of +his indignation than the powdery ashes which fell out of it showed the +flame of the cigar he was smoking when he wrote it.) "And as for Ward +himself," the rector went on, "I don't know what to think of him. Did you +know he had given up his salary? Said 'Helen had enough for them to live +on,' and added that they had no right to any more money than was +necessary for their comfort; anything more than that belonged to the +Lord's poor. Bless my soul, the clergyman comes under that head, to my +mind. Yes, sir, he's willing to live on his wife! I declare, the fellow's +a--a--well, I don't know any word for him!" + +There was a chorus of astonishment from the ladies. + +"'Christian' would be a pretty good word," said Gifford slowly. "Isn't he +following Christ's example rather more literally than most of us?" + +"But to live on his wife!" cried Dr. Howe. + +"I don't believe," Gifford responded, smiling, "that that would distress +John Ward at all." + +"Apparently not," said the rector significantly. + +"He loves her too much," Gifford went on, "to think of himself apart from +her; don't you see? They are one; what difference does it make about the +money?" + +"Could you do it?" asked Dr. Howe. + +"Well, no," Gifford said, shrugging his shoulders; "but then, I'm not +John Ward." + +"Thank Heaven!" said the rector devoutly. + +"But it is a mistake, all the same," Gifford went on; "it is +unbusiness-like, to say nothing of being bad for his people to have the +burden of support lifted from them; it pauperizes them spiritually." + +After the relief of this outburst against John Ward, Dr. Howe felt the +inevitable irritation at his hearers. "Well, I only mention this," he +said, "because, since he is so strange, it won't do, Gifford, for you to +abet Helen in this ridiculous skepticism of hers. If Ward agreed with +her, it would be all right, but so long as he does not, it will make +trouble between them, and a woman cannot quarrel with an obstinate and +bigoted man with impunity. And you have no business to have doubts +yourself, sir." + +The two sisters were much impressed with what the rector said. "I must +really caution Giff," said Miss Deborah to Lois, "not to encourage dear +Helen in thinking about things; it's very unfeminine to think, and +Gifford is so clever, he doesn't stop to remember she's but a woman. And +he is greatly attached to her; dear me, he has never forgotten what might +have been,"--this in almost a whisper. + +Both the sisters talked of Dr. Howe's anger as they went home. + +"He's right," said Miss Deborah, who had dropped her nephew's arm, so +that she might be more cautious about the mud, and who lifted her skirt +on each side, as though she was about to make a curtsy,--"he's right: a +woman ought to think just as her husband does; it is quite wrong in dear +Helen not to, and it will bring unhappiness. Indeed, it is a lesson to +all of us," she added. + +Respect was an instinct with Gifford, and he did not stop to think that +it was a lesson by which Miss Deborah would have no opportunity to +profit. + +But he was not listening closely to the chatter of the little ladies; he +was thinking of Lois's indifference. "She even looked bored, once," he +thought; "but that does not necessarily mean that she cares for Forsythe. +I will trust her. She may never love me, but she will never care for +him." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The feeling in Lockhaven about Helen Ward's unbelief was not confined to +Elder Dean; for every one who knew Mrs. Davis knew what the preacher's +wife thought of Tom's salvation, and judged her accordingly. As for the +widow herself, the hope Helen had given her quite died out under the +fostering care of Elder Dean. She grew more bitter than ever, and refused +even to speak on the subject. + +"No, ma'am," she said wearily, when Helen went to see her after the +funeral,--"no, ma'am, 'tain't no use to talk. Elder Dean's been here, and +I know there ain't no good hopin'. Even the preacher don't say there's +any good hopin'. What you said was a comfort, ma'am, but 'twasn't true. +'Twasn't religion. It's in the Bible that there's a hell, and there's no +use sayin' there isn't; sayin' there isn't won't keep us from it, Elder +Dean says, and I guess he's about right. I'm sure I'm much obliged to +you, ma'am; but I'm a Christian woman myself, and I can't deny religion." + +There was no use arguing; custom and a smattering of logic settled her +convictions, and no reasoning could move her dreary hopelessness. + +Helen told John of it, her head resting on his breast, and comforted by +his mere presence. "I know you believe in hell," she ended, "but, oh, +John, it is so horrible!" + +He stroked her hair softly. "I am afraid, dearest," he said, "Mrs. Davis +is right. I am afraid there is no possibility of hope. The soul that +sinneth, it shall die, and shall not the Judge of all the earth do +right?" + +Helen sprang to her feet. "Oh," she cried passionately,--"that is just +it,--He does do right! Why, if I thought God capable of sending Tom to +hell, I should hate Him." John tried to speak, but she interrupted him. +"We will never talk of this again, never! Believe what you will, +dearest,--it does not matter,--but don't speak of it to me, if you +love me. I cannot bear it, John. Promise me." + +"Oh, Helen," he said, with tender reproach, "would you have me conceal my +deepest life from you? It would seem like living apart, if there were one +subject on which we dared not touch. Just let me show you the truth and +justice of all this; let me tell you how the scheme of salvation makes +the mystery of sin and punishment clear and right." + +"No," she said, the flush of pain dying out of her face, but her eyes +still shining with unshed tears,--"no, I cannot talk of it. I should be +wicked if I could believe it; it would make me wicked. Don't ever speak +to me of it, John." + +She came and put her arms around him, and kissed his forehead gently; and +then she left him to struggle with his conscience, and to ask himself +whether his delay had caused this feeling of abhorrence, or whether the +waiting had been wise and should be prolonged. + +But Helen's words to Mrs. Davis were repeated, and ran from mouth to +mouth, with the strangest additions and alterations. Mrs. Ward had said +that there was no hell, and no heaven, and no God. What wonder, then, +with such a leaven of wickedness at work in the church, Elder Dean grew +alarmed, and in the bosom of his own family expressed his opinion of Mrs. +Ward, and at prayer-meeting prayed fervently for unbelievers, even though +she was not there to profit by it. Once, while saying that the preacher's +wife was sowing tares among the wheat, he met with an astonishing rebuff. +Alfaretta dared tell her father that he ought to be ashamed of himself to +talk that way about a saint and an angel, if ever there was one. + +Mr. Dean was staggered; a female, a young female, and his daughter, to +dare to say such a thing to him! He opened his mouth several times before +he was able to speak. + +Alfaretta was at home for her evening out, and her young man was with +her, anxious for the clock to point to nine, that he might "see her +home." They had intended to leave the elder's early, and wander off for +a walk by the river, but prayers were delayed a little, and after that +Alfaretta had to listen to the good advice given every week; so Thaddeus +lost all hope of the river-walk, and only watched for nine o'clock, +when he knew she must start. But in this, too, he was doomed to +disappointment, for the outburst which so stunned the elder detained +Alfaretta until after ten, thereby causing Helen no little anxiety +about her prompt and pretty maid. + +The elder had closed his admonitions by warning his daughter not to +be listening to any teachings of the preacher's wife, for she was +a backslider, and she had fallen from grace. "In the first place," +said the elder, laying down the law with uplifted hand, "she's a +Episcopalian,--I heard her say that herself, when she first come here; +and her letter of dismissal was from a church with some Popish name,--St. +Robert or Stephen,--I don't just remember. I've seen one of those +churches. Thank the Lord, there isn't one in Lockhaven. They have candles +burnin', and a big brass cross. Rags of Popery,--they all belong to the +Scarlet Woman, I tell you! But she's a backslider even from that, fer +they have some truth; she's a child of the Evil One, with her unbelief!" + +This was more than Alfaretta could bear. "Indeed, pa," she cried, "you +don't know how good she is, or you wouldn't be sayin' that! Look how +she's slaved this winter fer the families that 'a' been in trouble, +havin' no work!" + +"'Tain't what she's done, Alfaretta," said her father solemnly; "works +without faith is of no avail. What says the Scripture? 'A man is +justified by faith' (by faith, Alfaretta!) 'without the deeds of the +law.' And what says the confession?" + +Alfaretta, by force of habit, began to stumble through the answer: "'We +cannot by our best works merit pardon of sin, or eternal life at the +hand--at the hand--of God, by reason of'"--Here her memory failed her. + +"Well," her father said impatiently, "can't you remember the rest? 'Works +done by unregenerate men are sinful, and cannot please God,' you know. +Go on." + +But Alfaretta could not go on, and the elder would not betray his own +lack of memory by attempting to quote. + +"So you see," he continued, "it isn't any use to talk of how good and +kind she is, or what she does; it is what she believes that will settle +her eternal salvation." + +But Alfaretta was unconvinced. "Well, sir," she said stubbornly, "it +don't seem to me that way, fer she's the best woman, except mother, I +ever saw. I reckon if anybody goes to heaven, she will; don't you, +Thaddeus?" + +Thaddeus was tilting back in his chair, his curly black head against the +whitewashed wall, and thus suddenly and embarrassingly appealed to--for +he was divided between a desire to win the approval of the elder and to +show his devotion to Alfaretta--he brought his chair down with a clatter +of all four legs on the floor, and looked first at the father and then at +the daughter, but did not speak. + +"Don't you, Thaddeus?" repeated Alfaretta severely, for the elder was +dumb with astonishment. + +"Well," said Thaddeus, struggling for some opinion which should please +both,--"well, I do suppose we can hope for the best; that isn't against +the catechism." + +But the elder did not notice his feeble compromise, while Alfaretta only +gave him a quick, contemptuous look, for her father, opening and shutting +his mouth slowly for a moment, began to say,-- + +"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a child that's +ungrateful for the best of teaching and sound doctrine! Many's the time," +said the elder, lifting his eyes and hands,--"many's the time I've showed +her the truth; many's the time I've explained how every other sort of +religion is all wrong, and is of its father the Devil! And I've brought +her up faithful to the catechism and the confession, yet now the child +would instruct the parent! This comes," he cried, becoming very angry, +and beating his hand so violently upon the table that the family Bible +fell with a crash to the floor, from which Thaddeus lifted it,--"this +comes from your settin' in the seat of the scornful, and bein' in the +kitchen of an unbeliever! You'll leave her; do you hear me, Alfaretta? +You'll leave her this day month. I'll perform my duty to my child's soul, +even if Brother Ward's wife has to do her own cooking. Yes, and I'll do +my duty to Brother Ward, too, though I used to think him a pious young +man. I'll tell him he has got to convert that woman's soul She's a +corrupter of youth, she's a teacher of false doctrines,--her tellin' Mrs. +Davis there wasn't any hell!--she's a--a Episcopalian, so she is! She'll +experience a change of heart, or the Session will take this matter in +hand." + +At this terrible threat, even Alfaretta was speechless, and her mother +put two shaking hands on her arm, and whispered, "Oh, Retta, I wouldn't +say no more; it makes your pa angry." + +"Yes," continued the elder violently, "that woman is the Jonah of the +church, and she's got to be dealt with; to save her soul, she's got to be +disciplined, for the sake of every one that heard her false and lying +tongue. I'll have her brought before the Session and showed the truth, +and she shall be saved. Tom Davis not in hell, indeed!" + +Mr. Dean stopped for breath. Alfaretta's courage came back with a rush. + +"Listen to me," cried the young woman, stamping her foot with excitement, +for she was as angry as the elder himself,--"listen to me! How can you +say such things about her? A saint and angel, if ever there was one. The +Lord don't send no one to hell, let alone such as her. An' any way, I'd +rather go to the bad place with her than stay with all the golden harps +and crowns in the best sort of a heaven with them as would keep her out, +so I would!" + +Here Alfaretta broke down, and began to cry. Thaddeus could not stand +that; he edged up to her, murmuring, "I wouldn't cry, Retta,--I wouldn't +cry." + +But she only gave the shoulder he touched a vicious shake, and cried +harder than ever, saying, "No--I--I bet you wouldn't--you'd never--care." + +But Alfaretta's defense changed Mr. Dean's anger at the snub he received +from the preacher's wife into real alarm for his child's spiritual +welfare. A daughter of his to say the Lord did not send souls to hell! + +"Alfaretta," he said, with solemn slowness, "you'd better get your bunnet +and go home. I'll see Mr. Ward about this; his wife's done harm enough. +You've got to leave her,--I mean it. I won't see her send my child to +hell before my very eyes." + +"Oh, pa," Alfaretta entreated, choking and sobbing, and brushing her +tears away with the back of her hand, "don't,--don't say nothin' to Mr. +Ward, nor take me away. 'Twasn't her made me say those things; it was +just my own self. Don't take me away." + +"Did she ever say anything to you about the Lord not sendin' people to +hell?" asked her father. + +"Oh," said Alfaretta, growing more and more frightened, "'tain't what she +talks about; it's her bein' so good, an'"-- + +"Did she ever," interrupted the elder, with slow emphasis, standing over +her, and shaking his stubby forefinger at her,--"did she ever say the +Lord didn't send Tom Davis to hell, to you?" + +Alfaretta cowered in her chair, and Thaddeus began to whimper for +sympathy. "I don't know," she answered desperately,--"I don't know +anything, except she's good." + +"Listen to me," said Mr. Dean, in his harsh, monotonous voice: "did Mrs. +Ward ever say anything to you about hell, or the Lord's not sendin' +people there? Answer me that." + +Then the loving little servant-maid, truthful as the blood of Scotch +ancestors and a Presbyterian training could make her, faced what she knew +would bring remorse, and, for all she could tell, unpardonable sin upon +her soul, and said boldly, "No, she never did. She never said one single +blessed word to me about hell." + +The wind seemed suddenly to leave the elder's sails, but the collapse was +only for a moment; even Alfaretta's offering of her first lie upon the +altar of her devotion to her mistress was not to save her. + +"Well," he said, opening his mouth slowly and looking about with great +dignity, "if she hasn't said it to you, she has to other people, I'll be +bound. Fer she said it to Mrs. Davis, and"--the elder inflated his chest, +and held his head high--"and me. It is my duty as elder to take notice of +it, fer her own soul's sake, and to open her husband's eyes, if he's been +too blind to see it. Yes, the Session should deal with her. Prayers ain't +no good fer such as her," he said, becoming excited. "Ain't she heard my +prayers most all winter, till she give up comin' to prayer-meetin', +preferrin' to stay outside, + + "'Where sinners meet, and awful scoffers dwell'? + +An' I've exhorted; but"--the elder raised his eyes piously to +heaven--"Paul may plant and Apollos may water, but it don't do no good." + +Alfaretta knew her father's iron will too well to attempt any further +protests. She wiped her eyes, and, while she put on a hat adorned with an +aggressive white feather, she bade the family good-night in an unsteady +voice. Thaddeus, anxious only to escape notice, sidled towards the door, +and stood waiting for her, with a deprecating look on his round face. + +In spite, however, of the elder's indignation and his really genuine +alarm about the influences which surrounded his child, he had a prudent +afterthought in the matter of her leaving the service of Mrs. Ward. It +was difficult to get anything in Lockhaven for a young woman to do, and +times were hard that year. + +"You--ah--you needn't give notice to-night, Alfaretta," he said. "I'll +speak to the preacher about it, myself. But mind you have as little to +say to her as you can, and may the Lord protect you!" + +But the elder's plans for cautioning his pastor were doomed to +disappointment. He was a prisoner with lumbago for the next fortnight, +and even the most sincere interest in some one else's spiritual welfare +cannot tempt a man out of the house when he is bent almost double with +lumbago. Nor, when John came to see him, could he begin such a +conversation as he had planned, for his neck was too stiff to allow him +to raise his head and look in Mr. Ward's face. When he recovered, he was +delayed still another week, because the preacher had gone away to General +Assembly. + +But Alfaretta was far too miserable to find in her father's command "not +to give notice to-night" any ray of comfort. She choked down her tears as +best she might, and started for the parsonage. + +Thaddeus had almost to run to keep up with her, such was her troubled and +impatient haste, and she scarcely noticed him, though he tramped through +the mud to show his contrition, instead of taking his place by her side +on the board walk. + +It is curious to see how a simple soul inflicts useless punishment upon +itself, when the person it has offended refuses to retaliate. Had +Alfaretta scolded, Thaddeus would not have walked in the mud. + +Her silence was most depressing. + +"Retta," he ventured timidly, "don't be mad with me,--now don't." + +He came a little nearer, and essayed to put an arm about her waist, a +privilege often accorded him on such an occasion. But now she flounced +away from him and said sharply, "You needn't be comin' round me, Mr. +Thaddeus Green. Anybody that thinks my Mrs. Ward isn't goin' to heaven +had just better keep off from me, fer I'm goin' with her, wherever that +is; and I suppose, if you think _that_ of me, you'd better not associate +with me." + +"I didn't say _you_ was goin'," protested Thaddeus tearfully, but she +interrupted him with asperity. + +"Don't I tell you I'm bound to go where she goes? And if you're so +fearful of souls bein' lost, I wonder you don't put all your money in the +missionary-box, instead of buying them new boots." + +Perhaps it was the thought of the new boots, but Thaddeus stepped on the +board walk, and this time, unreproved, slipped his arm about Alfaretta's +waist. + +"Oh, now Retta," he said, "I didn't mean any harm. I only didn't want the +elder thinkin' I wasn't sound, for he'd be sayin' we shouldn't keep +company, an' that's all I joined the church for last spring." + +"Well, then," said Alfaretta, willing to be reconciled if it brought any +comfort, "you do think Mrs. Ward will go to heaven?" + +"Yes," Thaddeus answered with great confidence, and added in a burst of +gallantry, "She'll have to, Retta, if she goes along with you, for you'll +go there sure!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Mrs. Forsythe did not come to Ashurst until the middle of April, and then +she came alone. Dick had been detained, she said, and would come in a +week or two. So Lois breathed freely, though she knew it was only a +respite, and made the most of her freedom to go and see his mother. + +She was very fond of the invalid, who always seemed to her, in her +glowing, rosy health, like an exquisite bit of porcelain, she was so +fine and dainty, with soft white hair curling around her gentle and +melancholy face. Mrs. Forsythe dressed in delicate grays and lavenders, +and her fingers were covered with rings, and generally held some filmy +fancy-work. Her invalidism had only given her an air of interesting +fragility, which made Lois long to put her strong young arms about her, +to shield her lest any wind might blow too roughly upon her. + +Mrs. Forsythe accepted her devotion with complacency. She had never had +this adoring tenderness from her son, who had heard her remark that she +was at the gates of death too often to live in a state of anxiety; but +to Lois her gentle resignation and heavenly anticipations were most +impressive. The girl's affection almost reconciled the elder lady to +having been made to come to Ashurst while the snow still lingered in +sheltered spots, and before the crocuses had lighted their golden censers +in her garden; for Lois went to see her every day, and though she could +not always escape without a meaning look from the invalid, or a sigh for +Dick's future, she thoroughly enjoyed her visits. It was charming to sit +in the dusk, before the dancing flames of an apple-wood fire, the air +fragrant with the hyacinths and jonquils of the window garden, and listen +to tales of Mrs. Forsythe's youth. + +Lois had never heard such stories. Mrs. Dale would have said it was not +proper for young girls to know of love affairs, and it is presumable that +the Misses Woodhouse never had any to relate; so this was Lois's first +and only chance, and she would sit, clasping her knees with her hands, +listening with wide, frank eyes, and cheeks flushed by the fire and the +tale. + +"But then, my poor health," Mrs. Forsythe ended with a sigh, one evening, +just before it was time for Lois to go; "of course it interfered very +much." + +"Why, were you ill _then_," Lois said, "when you used to dance all +night?" + +"Oh, dear me, yes," answered the other shaking her head, "I have been a +sufferer all my life, a great sufferer. Well, it cannot last much longer; +this poor body is almost worn out." + +"Oh, _don't_ say it!" Lois cried, and kissed the white soft hand with its +shining rings, in all the tenderness of her young heart. + +All this endeared the girl very much, and more than once Mrs. Forsythe +wrote of her sweetness and goodness to her son. Miss Deborah, or Miss +Ruth, or even Mrs. Dale, would have been careful in using the name of any +young woman in writing to a gentleman, but Mrs. Forsythe had not been +born in Ashurst. + +However, Dick still lingered, and Lois rejoiced, and even her +anticipation of the evil time to come, when he should arrive and end her +peaceful days, could not check her present contentment. It was almost +May, and that subtile, inexplainable joy of the springtime made it a +gladness even to be alive. Lois rambled about, hunting for the first +green spears of that great army of flowers which would soon storm the +garden, and carrying any treasure she might find to Mrs. Forsythe's +sick-room. The meadows were spongy with small springs, bubbling up under +the faintly green grass. The daffadown-dillies showed bursting yellow +buds, and the pallid, frightened-looking violets brought all their +mystery of unfolding life to the girl's happy eyes. + +One Saturday morning, while she was looking for the bunch of grape +hyacinths which came up each year, beside the stone bench, she was +especially light-hearted. Word had come from Helen that the long-promised +visit should be made the first week in June. "It can only be for a week, +you know," Helen wrote, "because I cannot be away from John longer than +that, and I must be back for our first anniversary, too." + +More than this, Mrs. Forsythe had sighed, and told her that poor dear +Dick's business seemed to detain him; it was such a shame! And perhaps he +could not get to Ashurst for a fortnight. So Lois Howe was a very happy +and contented girl, standing under the soft blue of the April sky, and +watching her flock of white pigeons wheeling and circling about the gable +of the red barn, while the little stream, which had gained a stronger +voice since the spring rains, babbled vociferously at her side. The long, +transparent stems of the flowers broke crisply between her fingers, as +she heard her name called. + +Mr. Denner, with his fishing-basket slung under one arm and his rod +across his shoulder, was regarding her through a gap in the hedge. + +"A lovely day!" said the little gentleman, his brown eyes twinkling with +a pleasant smile. + +"Indeed it is, sir," Lois answered; "and look at the flowers I've found!" + +She tipped the basket of scented grass on her arm that he might see them. +Mr. Denner had stopped to ask if Mrs. Forsythe would be present at the +whist party that night, and was rather relieved to learn that she was not +able to come; he had lost his hand the week before, because she had +arrived with the Dales. Then he inquired about her son's arrival, and +went away thinking what a simple matter a love affair was to some people. +Lois and that young man! Why, things were really arranged for them; they +had almost no responsibility in the matter; their engagement settled +itself, as it were. + +He walked abstractedly towards his house, wrestling with the old puzzle. +Nothing helped him, or threw light on his uncertainty; he was tired of +juggling with fate, and was growing desperate. + +"I wish they would settle it between themselves," he murmured, with a +wistful wrinkle on his forehead. Suddenly a thought struck him; there was +certainly one way out of his difficulties: he could ask advice. He could +lay the whole matter frankly before some dispassionate person, whose +judgment should determine his course. Why had he not thought of it +before! Mr. Denner's face brightened; he walked gayly along, and began +to hum to himself:-- + + "Oh, wert thou, love, but near me, + But near, near, near me, + How fondly wouldst thou cheer me"-- + +Here he stopped abruptly. Whom should he ask? He went carefully through +his list of friends, as he trudged along the muddy road. + +Not Dr. Howe: he did not take a serious enough view of such things; Mr. +Denner recalled that scene in his office, and his little face burned. +Then, there was Mrs. Dale: she was a woman, and of course she would know +the real merit of each of the sisters. Stay: Mrs. Dale did not always +seem in sympathy with the Misses Woodhouse; he had even heard her say +things which were not, perhaps, perfectly courteous; that the sisters had +been able to defend themselves, Mr. Denner overlooked. Colonel Drayton: +well, a man with the gout is not the confidant for a lover. He was +beginning to look depressed again, when the light came. Henry Dale! No +one could be better. + +Mr. Denner awaited the evening with impatience. He would walk home with +the Dales, he thought, and then he and Henry could talk it all over, down +in the study. + +He was glad when the cool spring night began to close, full of that +indefinable fragrance of fresh earth and growing things, and before it +was time to start he cheered himself by a little music. He went into the +dreary, unused parlor, and pulling up the green Venetian blinds, which +rattled like castanets, he pushed back the ivy-fastened shutters, and sat +down by the open window; then, with his chin resting upon his fiddle, and +one foot in its drab gaiter swinging across his knee, he played +mournfully and shrilly in the twilight, until it was time to start. + +He saw the Misses Woodhouse trotting toward the rectory, with Sarah +walking in a stately way behind them, swinging her unlighted lantern, and +cautioning them not to step in the mud. But he made no effort to join +them; it was happiness enough to contemplate the approaching solution of +his difficulties, and say to himself triumphantly, "This time to-morrow!" +and he began joyously to play, "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," +rendering carefully all the quavers in that quavering air. + +Mr. Denner's meditations made him late at the rectory, and he felt Mrs. +Dale look sternly at him; so he made haste to deal, sitting well forward +in his chair, under which he tucked his little feet, and putting down +each card with nervous care. His large cuffs almost hid his small, thin +hands, and now and then he paused to rub his thumb and forefinger +together, that the cards might not stick. + +But Mr. Denner did not play well that night; Miss Deborah looked at him +with mild reproach, and was almost angry when he answered her with an +absent smile. + +The evening seemed very long to Mr. Denner, and even when the party had +said "Good-night" Mr. Dale was slow about getting off; he put his wife +into the carriage, and then stopped to ask Dr. Howe if he had the first +edition of "Japhet in Search of a Father"? + +"In search of a father!" Mr. Denner thought, as he stood waiting by the +steps,--"how can he be interested in that?" + +At last the front door closed, and Mr. Dale and Mr. Denner walked +silently down the lane in the starlight, the lawyer's little heart +beating so with excitement, that he had a suffocated feeling, and once +or twice put his hand to his throat, as though to loosen his muffler. + +Mr. Dale, still absorbed in his first edition, took swinging strides, the +tails of his brown cloth overcoat flapping and twisting about his long, +thin legs. Mr. Denner had now and then almost to break into a trot to +keep up with him. + +Mr. Dale walked with his hands clasped behind him, and his stick under +his arm; his soft felt hat was pulled down over his eyes, so that his +keeping the path was more by chance than sight. He stopped once to pluck +a sprig from the hawthorn hedge, to put between his lips. This gave Mr. +Denner breath, and a chance to speak. + +"I think I will walk home with you, Henry," he said. "I want to have a +talk with you." + +His heart thumped as he said that; he felt he had committed himself. + +"Well, now, that's very pleasant," responded Mr. Dale. "I was just +thinking I should be alone half the way home." + +"But you would not be alone when you got there," Mr. Denner said +meditatively; "now, with me it is different." + +"Oh, quite different,--quite different." + +"Yes," proceeded the other, "I have very little companionship. I go home +and sit in my library all by myself. Sometimes, I get up and wander about +the house, with only my cigar for company." + +"I suppose," said Mr. Dale, "that you can smoke wherever you want, in +your house? I often think of your loneliness; coming and going just as +you please, quite independently." + +Mr. Denner gave him a sudden questioning look, and then appeared to +reproach himself for having misunderstood his friend. + +"Yes, just so,--just so. I knew you would appreciate it; but you can +never know from experience, Henry, how a man feels left quite to himself. +You do not think of the independence; it is the loneliness. You cannot +know that." + +"No," murmured Mr. Dale, "perhaps not, but I can imagine it." + +When they reached the iron gate of Dale house, they followed the trim +path across the lawn to the north side of the house, where it ended in +a little walk, three bricks wide, laid end to end, and so damp with +perpetual shade, they were slippery with green mould, and had tufts of +moss between them. + +Mr. Dale's study was in a sort of half basement one went down two steps +to reach the doorway, and the windows, set in thick stone walls and +almost hidden in a tangle of wistaria, were just above the level of the +path. + +The two old men entered, Mr. Dale bending his tall white head a little; +and while the lawyer unwound a long blue muffler from about his throat, +the host lighted a lamp, and, getting down on his knees, blew the dim +embers in the rusty grate into a flickering blaze. Then he pulled a +blackened crane from the jamb, and hung on it a dinted brass kettle, so +that he might add some hot water to Mr. Denner's gin and sugar, and also +make himself a cup of tea. That done, he took off his overcoat, throwing +it across the mahogany arm of the horse-hair sofa, which was piled with +books and pamphlets, and whitened here and there with ashes from his +silver pipe; then he knotted the cord of his flowered dressing-gown about +his waist, spread his red silk handkerchief over his thin locks, and, +placing his feet comfortably upon the high fender, was ready for +conversation. + +Mr. Denner, meanwhile, without waiting for the formality of an +invitation, went at once to a small corner closet, and brought out a +flat, dark bottle and an old silver cup. He poured the contents of the +bottle into the cup, added some sugar, and lastly, with a sparing hand, +the hot water, stirring it round and round with the one teaspoon which +they shared between them. + +Mr. Dale had produced a battered caddy, and soon the fumes of gin and tea +mingled amicably together. + +"If I could always have such evenings as this," Mr. Denner thought, +sipping the hot gin and water, and crossing his legs comfortably, "I +should not have to think of--something different." + +"Your wife would appreciate what I meant about loneliness," he said, +going back to what was uppermost in his mind. "A house without a mistress +at its head, Henry, is--ah--not what it should be." + +The remark needed no reply; and Mr. Dale leaned back in his leather +chair, dreamily watching the blue smoke from his slender pipe drift level +for a moment, and then, on an unfelt draught, draw up the chimney. + +Mr. Denner, resting his mug on one knee, began to stir the fire gently. +"Yes, Henry," he continued, "I feel it more and more as I grow older. I +really need--ah--brightness and comfort in my house. Yes, I need it. And +even if I were not interested, as it were, myself, I don't know but what +my duty to Willie should make me--ah--think of it." + +Mr. Dale was gazing at the fire. "Think of what?" he said. + +Mr. Denner became very much embarrassed. "Why, what I was just observing, +just speaking of,--the need of comfort--in my house--and my life, I +might say. Less loneliness for me, Henry, and, in fact, a--person--a--a +female--you understand." + +Mr. Dale looked at him. + +"In fact, as I might say, a wife, Henry." + +Mr. Dale was at last aroused; with his pipe between his lips, he clutched +the lion's-heads on the arms of his chair, and sat looking at Mr. Denner +in such horrified astonishment, that the little gentleman stumbled over +any words, simply for the relief of speaking. + +"Yes," he said, "just so, Henry, just so. I have been thinking of it +lately, perhaps for the last year; yes--I have been thinking of it." + +Mr. Dale, still looking at him, made an inarticulate noise in his throat. + +Mr. Denner's face began to show a faint dull red to his temples. +"Ah--yes--I--I have thought of it, as it were." + +"Denner," said Mr. Dale solemnly, "you're a fool." + +"If you mean my age, Henry," cried the other, his whole face a dusky +crimson, that sent the tears stinging into his little brown eyes, "I +cannot say I think your--surprise--is--ah--justified. It is not as though +there was anything unsuitable--she--they--are quite my age. And for +Willie's sake, I doubt if it is not a--a duty. And I am only sixty-one +and a half, Henry. You did not remember, perhaps, that I was so much +younger than you?" + +Mr. Dale pulled off his red handkerchief, and wiped his forehead; after +which he said quite violently, "The devil!" + +"Oh," remonstrated Mr. Denner, balancing his mug on his knee, and lifting +his hands deprecatingly, "not such words, Henry,--not such words; we are +speaking of ladies, Henry." + +Mr. Dale was silent. + +"You have no idea," the other continued, "in your comfortable house, with +a good wife, who makes you perfectly happy, how lonely a man is who lives +as I do; and I can tell you, the older he grows, the more he feels it. So +really, age is a reason for considering it." + +"I was not thinking of age," said Mr. Dale feebly. + +"Well, then," replied the other triumphantly, "age is the only objection +that could be urged. A man is happier and better for female influence; +and the dinners I have are really not--not what they should be, Henry. +That would all be changed, if I had a--ah--wife." + +"Denner," said his friend, "there are circumstances where a dinner of +herbs is more to be desired than a stalled ox, you will remember." + +"That is just how I feel," said the other eagerly, and too much +interested in his own anxieties to see Mr. Dale's point. "Mary is not +altogether amiable." + +Again Mr. Dale was silent. + +"I knew you would see the--the--desirability of it," the lawyer +continued, the flush of embarrassment fading away, "and so I decided to +ask your advice. I thought that, not only from your own--ah--heart, but +from the novels and tales you read, you would be able to advise me in any +matter of esteem." + +Mr. Dale groaned, and shook his head from side to side. + +"But, good Lord, Denner, books are one thing, life's another. You can't +live in a book, man." + +"Just so," said Mr. Denner, "just so; but I only want the benefit of your +experience in reading these tales of--ah--romance. You see, here is my +trouble, Henry,--I cannot make up my mind." + +"To do it?" cried Mr. Dale, with animation. + +But Mr. Denner interrupted him with a polite gesture. "No, I shall +certainly do it, I did not mean to mislead you. I shall certainly do it, +but I cannot make up my mind which." + +"Which?" said Mr. Dale vaguely. + +"Yes," answered the little gentleman, "which. Of course you know that +I refer to the Misses Woodhouse. You must have noticed my attentions of +late, for I have shown a great deal of attention to both; it has been +very marked. Yet, Henry, I cannot tell which (both are such estimable +persons) which I--should--ah--prefer. And knowing your experience, a +married man yourself, and your reading on such subjects,--novels are +mostly based upon esteem,--I felt sure you could advise me." + +A droll look came into Mr. Dale's face, but he did not speak. + +Feeling that he had made a clean breast of it, and that the +responsibility of choice was shifted to his friend's shoulders, the +lawyer, taking a last draught from the silver mug, and setting it down +empty on the table, leaned comfortably back in his chair to await the +decision. + +There was a long silence; once Mr. Denner broke it by saying, "Of course, +Henry, you see the importance of careful judgment," and then they were +still again. + +At last, Mr. Dale, with a long sigh, straightened up in his chair. He +lifted his white fluted china tea-cup, which had queer little chintz-like +bunches of flowers over it and a worn gilt handle, and took a pinch of +tea from the caddy; then, pouring some boiling water over it, he set it +on the hob to steep. + +"Denner," he said slowly, "which advice do you want? Whether to do it at +all, or which lady to choose?" + +"Which lady, of course," answered Mr. Denner promptly. "There can be but +one opinion as to the first question." + +"Ah," responded Mr. Dale; then, a moment afterwards, he added, "Well"-- + +Mr. Denner looked at his friend, with eyes shining with excitement. "It +is very important to me, Henry," he said, with a faltering voice. "You +will keep that in mind, I am sure. They are both so admirable, and +yet--there must be some choice. Miss Deborah's housekeeping--you know +there's no such cooking in Ashurst; and she's very economical. But then, +Miss Ruth is artistic, and"--here a fine wavering blush crept over his +little face--"she is--ah--pretty, Henry. And the money is equally +divided," he added, with a visible effort to return to practical things. + +"I know. Yes, it's very puzzling. On the whole, Denner, I do not see how +I can advise you." + +Mr. Denner seemed to suffer a collapse. + +"Why, Henry," he quavered, "you must have an opinion?" + +"No," Mr. Dale answered thoughtfully, "I cannot say that I have. Now, I +put it to you, Denner: how could I decide on the relative merits of Miss +Ruth and Miss Deborah, seeing that I have no affection, only respect, for +either of them? Affection! that ought to be your guide. Which do you have +most affection for?" + +"Why, really"--said Mr. Denner, "really"--and he stopped to think, +looking hard at the seal ring on his left hand--"I am afraid it is just +the same, if you call it affection. You see that doesn't help us." + +He had identified Mr. Dale's interest with his own anxiety, and looked +wistfully at the older man, who seemed sunk in thought and quite +forgetful of his presence. Mr. Denner put one hand to his lips and gave +a little cough. Then he said:-- + +"One would think there would be a rule about such things, some +acknowledged method; a proverb, for instance; it would simplify matters +very much." + +"True," said Mr. Dale. + +"Yes," Mr. Denner added, "you would think in such a general thing as +marriage there would be. Complications like this must constantly arise. +What if Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth had another sister? Just see how +confused a man might be. Yes, one would suppose the wisdom of experience +would take the form of an axiom. But it hasn't." + +He sighed deeply, and rose, for it was late, and the little fire had +burned out. + +Mr. Dale bent forward, with his elbows on his lean knees, and gently +knocked the ashes from his silver pipe. Then he got up, and, standing +with his back to the cold grate, and the tails of his flowered +dressing-gown under each arm in a comfortable way, he looked at the +lawyer, with his head a little on one side, as though he were about to +speak. Mr. Denner noticed it. + +"Ah, you cannot make any suggestion, Henry?" + +"Well," said Mr. Dale, "it seems to me I had a thought--a sort of a +proverb, you might say--but it slips my memory." + +Mr. Denner, with his overcoat half on, stood quite still, and trembled. + +"It is something about how to make up your mind," Mr. Dale continued, +very slowly; "let me see." + +"How to make up your mind?" cried Mr. Denner. "That's just the thing! +I'm sure, that's just the thing! And we cannot but have the greatest +confidence in proverbs. They are so eminently trustworthy. They are the +concentrated wisdom--of--of the ages, as it were. Yes, I should be quite +willing to decide the matter by a proverb." + +He looked at Mr. Dale eagerly, but this especial piece of wisdom still +eluded the older man. + +"It begins," said Mr. Dale, hesitating, and fixing his eyes upon the +ceiling,--"it begins--let me see. 'When in doubt'--ah"-- + +"What is it?" gasped Mr. Denner. "That has a familiar sound, but I cannot +seem to finish it. When in doubt, what?" + +"Well," answered his friend ruefully, "it is not quite--it does not +exactly apply. I am afraid it won't; help us out. You know the rest. It +is merely--'take the trick'!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The morning after John Ward's return from his two weeks' absence at +General Assembly, he found it hard to settle down to work. Not that there +was very much to talk about, for daily letters had told of daily doings, +but to be with Helen again was an absorbing joy. She followed him about +as he put his papers away, and he, in turn, came out into the garden to +watch her while she showed Alfaretta where to plant some flower seeds. + +"Come over here," Helen said, "and see these violets under the big elm! +I have been so in hopes they would blossom in time to welcome you. Let's +pick some for the study." + +They pushed the shining, wet leaves aside, and found the flowers, and +then John watched his wife put them in a shallow dish on his table. + +"It is weak in me to come in here," Helen said, smiling. "I know you +ought to work, yet here I sit." + +"This is Thursday," he answered, "and I wrote my sermon on the train +yesterday, so after I have copied the reports I can afford to be lazy. I +cannot bear to have you out of my sight!" He drew her brown head down on +his shoulder, and stroked her face softly. "When I'm away from you, +Helen, I seem only half alive." + +"And in three weeks I have to go to Ashurst," she said ruefully. "It is +too bad I couldn't have gone while you were at General Assembly, but it +wouldn't have been right for us both to be away from the parsonage at +once." + +"No. Well, we have the three weeks yet. Yes, I must send you away, and +get at the reports. How you brighten this room, Helen! I think it must +be the sunshine that seems caught in your hair. It gleams like bronze +oak-leaves in October." + +"Love has done wonderful things for your eyes, John," she said, smiling, +as she left him. + +She put on her heavy gloves and brought her trowel from under the front +porch, and she and the maid began to dig up the fresh, damp earth on the +sunny side of the house. + +"We'll have some sweet-peas here, Alfaretta," she said cheerily, "and I +think it would be nice to let the nasturtiums run over that log, don't +you? And you must plant these morning-glory seeds around the kitchen +windows." Suddenly she noticed that Alfaretta, instead of listening, was +gazing down the road, and her round freckled face flushing hotly. + +"He sha'n't come in," she muttered,--"he sha'n't come in!" and dropping +the hammer, and the box of tacks, and the big ball of twine, she hurried +to the gate, her rough hands clinched into two sturdy fists. + +Helen looked towards the road, and saw Mr. Dean come stiffly up to the +gate, for lumbago was not altogether a memory. Alfaretta reached it as he +did, and as she stooped to lean her elbows on its top bar she slipped the +latch inside. + +"Alfaretta," said her father pompously, "open the gate, if you please." +As he spoke, he rapped upon it with his heavy stick, and the little latch +clattered and shook. + +"Were you coming to see me, pa?" the girl asked nervously. "I--I'm busy +this morning. It's my night out, so I'll see you this evenin'." + +"Yes, I'll see you," returned Mr. Dean significantly, "but not now. I +didn't come to see you now; I'm here to see the preacher, Alfaretta. +Come, don't keep me out here in the sun," he added impatiently, shaking +the gate again. + +"I guess he's too busy to see you this morning,--he's awful busy." + +"I guess he's not too busy to see me," said the elder. + +Alfaretta's face was white now, but she still stood barring the gateway. +"Well, you can't see him, anyhow;" her voice had begun to tremble, and +Mrs. Ward, who had joined them, said, with a surprised look,-- + +"Why, what do you mean, Alfaretta? Of course Mr. Ward will see your +father. I hope your lumbago is better, Elder Dean?" + +Mr. Dean did not notice her question. "Certainly he will see me. Come, +now, open the gate; be spry." + +"You can't see him!" cried Alfaretta, bursting into tears. "I say he +won't see you, so there!" + +Her mistress looked at her in astonishment, but her father put his big +hand over the gate, and, wrenching the little latch open, strode up to +the front door of the parsonage. + +Helen and her maid looked at each other; Alfaretta's face working +convulsively to keep back the tears, and her mistress's eyes full of +disapproval. + +"Why did you say that, Alfaretta?" she said. "It was not true; you knew +Mr. Ward could see your father." Then she turned back to her planting. + +Alfaretta followed her, and, kneeling down by the border, began to grub +at the intruding blades of grass, stopping to put her hand up to her eyes +once in a while, which made her face singularly streaked and muddy. + +"What is the matter, Alfaretta?" Helen asked, at last, coldly. She did +not mean to be unkind, but she was troubled at the girl's untruthfulness. + +Alfaretta wailed. + +"Tell me," Helen said, putting her hand lightly on her shoulder. "Are you +crying because you said what was not true?" + +"'T ain't that!" sobbed Alfaretta. + +"I wish, then, you would either stop, or go into the house." Helen's +voice was stern, and Alfaretta looked at her with reproachful eyes; then +covering her face with her hands, she rocked backwards and forwards, and +wept without restraint. + +"I'm afraid--I'm afraid he's going to take me away from here!" + +"Take you away?" Helen said, surprised. "Why? Is the work too hard?" + +"No--no ma'am," Alfaretta answered, choking. + +"I'll go and see him at once," Helen said. + +"Oh, no!" Alfaretta cried, catching her mistress's skirt with grimy +hands, "don't go; 't won't do any good." + +"Don't be foolish," Helen remonstrated, smiling; "of course I must speak +to him. If your father thinks there is too much work, he must tell me, +and I will arrange it differently." + +She stooped, and took the hem of her cambric gown from between the girl's +fingers, and then went quickly into the house. + +She rapped lightly at the study door. "John, I must come in a moment, +please." + +She heard a chair pushed back, and John's footstep upon the floor. He +opened the door, and stood looking at her with strange, unseeing eyes. + +"Go away, Helen," he said hoarsely, without waiting for her to speak, for +she was dumb with astonishment at his face,--"go away, my darling." + +He put out one hand as if to push her back, and closed the door, and she +heard the bolt pushed. She stood a moment staring at the blank of the +locked door. What could it mean? Alfaretta's misery and morals were +forgotten; something troubled John,--she had no thought for anything +else. She turned away as though in a dream, and began absently to take +off her garden hat. John was in some distress. She went up-stairs to her +bedroom, and tried to keep busy with sewing until she could go to him, +but she was almost unconscious of what she did. How long, how very long, +the morning was! + + * * * * * + +John had looked up from his writing to see Mr. Dean standing in the +doorway. + +"Good-morning," he said cordially, as he rose to give his hand to his +elder. "I am glad to see you. How have things gone since I have been +away?" + +But Mr. Dean seemed to have nothing special to report, and let the +preacher tell him of General Assembly, while, embarrassed and very +uncomfortable, he sat twisting his hat round and round in his big, +rough hands. + +A bar of sunshine from the south window crept across the floor, and +touched the low dish of violets on the table, and then John's face, +making a sudden golden glint in his gentle dark eyes. + +"Mr. Ward," the elder said, at last, opening his mouth once or twice +before he began to speak, "I have a distress on my mind. I think the +Spirit of the Lord's driven me to tell you of it." + +"Are you in any trouble, my friend?" The tired look which had fallen upon +John's face as he put down his pen was gone in a moment. "I am glad, +then, I was not away any longer. I trust sickness has not come to your +family?" + +"No, sir," answered the other solemnly, "not sickness of body. What does +the Good Book say to the Christian? 'He shall give his angels charge over +thee.' No, I'm mercifully preserved from sickness; for, as for me and my +house, we serve the Lord. My lumbago was bad while you was away; but it's +better, I'm thankful to say. Sickness of the soul, Mr. Ward,--that is +what is truly awful." + +"I hope you are not feeling the power of Satan in doubts?" John said +anxiously. "Such sickness of the soul is indeed worse than any which can +come to the body." + +"No," replied the elder, "no, my feet are fixed. I know whom I have +believed. I have entered into the hidden things of God. I am not afraid +of doubt, ever. Yet what a fearful thing doubt is, Brother Ward!" + +"It is, indeed," John replied humbly. "Through the mercy of God, I have +never known its temptation. He has kept me from ever questioning truth." + +"What a terrible thing it would be," said Mr. Dean, beginning to forget +his awkwardness, "if doubt was to grow up in any heart, or in any family, +or in any church! I've sometimes wondered if, of late, you had given us +enough sound doctrine in the pulpit, sir? The milk of the Word we can get +out of the Bible for ourselves, but doctrines, they ain't to be found in +Holy Writ as they'd ought to be preached." + +John looked troubled. He knew the rebuke was merited. "I have feared +my sermons were, as you say, scarcely doctrinal enough. Yet I have +instructed you these six years in points of faith, and I felt it was +perhaps wiser to turn more to the tenderness of God as it is in Christ. +And I cannot agree with you that the doctrines are not in the Bible, Mr. +Dean." + +"Well," the elder admitted, "of course. But not so he that runs may read, +or that the wayfaring man will not err therein. There is some folks as +would take 'God is love' out of the Good Book, and forget 'Our God is a +consuming fire.'" + +John bent his head on his hand for a moment, and drove his mind back to +his old arguments for silence. Neither of the men spoke for a little +while, and then John said, still without raising his head:-- + +"Do you feel that this--neglect of mine has been of injury to any soul? +It is your duty to tell me." + +It was here that Helen's knock came, and when John had taken his seat +again he looked his accuser straight in the eyes. + +"Do you?" he said. + +"Sir," answered the elder, "I can't say. I ain't heard that it has--and +yet--I'm fearful. Yet I didn't come to reproach you for that. You have +your reasons for doing as you did, no doubt. But what I did come to do, +preacher, was to warn you that there was a creepin' evil in the church; +and we need strong doctrine now, if we ain't before. And I came the +quicker to tell you, sir, because it's fastened on my own household. Yes, +on my own child!" + +"Your own child?" John said. "You have nothing to fear for Alfaretta; she +is a very good, steady girl." + +"She's good enough and she's steady enough," returned Mr. Dean, shaking +his head; "and oh, Mr. Ward, when she joined the church, two years ago, +there wasn't anybody (joinin' on profession) better grounded in the faith +than she was. She knew her catechism through and through, and she never +asked a question or had a doubt about it in her life. But now,--now it's +different!" + +"Do you mean," John asked, "that her faith is shaken,--that she has +doubts? Such times are apt to come to very young Christians, though they +are conscious of no insincerity, and the doubts are but superficial. Has +she such doubts?" + +"She has, sir, she has," cried the elder, "and it breaks my heart to see +my child given over to the Evil One!" + +"No, no," John said tenderly; "if she is one of the elect,--and we have +reason to hope she is,--she will persevere. Remember, for your comfort, +the perseverance of the saints. But how has this come about? Is it +through any influence?" + +"Yes, sir, it is," said the elder quickly. + +"What is the especial doubt?" John asked. + +"It is her views of hell that distress me," answered the elder. John +looked absently beyond him, with eyes which saw, not Alfaretta, but +Helen. + +"That is very serious," he said slowly. + +"'T ain't natural to her," protested the elder. "She was grounded on +hell; she's been taught better. It's the influence she's been under, +preacher." + +"Surely it cannot be any one in our church," John said thoughtfully. "I +can think of too many who are weak in grace and good works, but none who +doubt the faith." + +"Yes," replied the elder, "yes, it is in our church. That's why I came to +beg you to teach sound doctrine, especially the doctrine of everlasting +punishment. I could a' dealt with Alfaretta myself, and I'll bring her +round, you can depend on that; but it is for the church I'm askin' you, +and fer that person that's unsettled Alfaretta. Convert her, save her. It +is a woman, sir, a member (by letter, Brother Ward) of our church, and +she's spreadin' nets of eternal ruin for our youth, and I came to say she +ought to be dealt with; the Session ought to take notice of it. The +elders have been speakin' of it while you was away; and we don't see +no way out of it, for her own soul's sake,--let alone other people's +souls,--than to bring her before the Session. If we can't convert her +to truth, leastways she'll be disciplined to silence." + +That subtile distinction which John Ward had made between his love and +his life was never more apparent than now. Though his elder's words +brought him the keenest consciousness of his wife's unbelief, he never +for an instant thought of her as the person whose influence in the church +was to be feared. His church and his wife were too absolutely separate +for such identification to be possible. + +"And," Mr. Dean added, his metallic voice involuntarily softening, "our +feelings, Mr. Ward, mustn't interfere with it; they mustn't make us +unkind to her soul by slightin' her best good." + +"No," John said, still absently, and scarcely listening to his +elder,--"no, of course not. But have you seen her, and talked with her, +and tried to lead her to the truth? That should be done with the +tenderest patience before anything so extreme as Sessioning." + +"We ain't," the elder answered significantly, "but I make no doubt she's +been reasoned with and prayed with." + +"Why, I have not spoken to her," John said, bewildered; "but you have not +told me who it is, yet." + +"Mr. Ward," said the other solemnly, "if you ain't spoke to her, you've +neglected your duty; and if you don't give her poor soul a chance of +salvation by bringing her to the Session, you are neglectin' your duty +still more. Your church, sir, and the everlastin' happiness of her soul +demand that this disease of unbelief should be rooted out. Yes, Brother +Ward, if the Jonah in a church was our nearest and dearest--and it don't +make no odds--the ship should be saved!" + +They both rose; a terrible look was dawning in John Ward's face, and, +seeing it, the elder's voice sunk to a hurried whisper as he spoke the +last words. + +"Who is this woman?" the preacher said hoarsely. + +"Sir--sir"--the elder cried, backing towards the door and raising his +hands in front of him, "don't look so,--don't look so, sir!" + +"Who?" demanded the other. + +"I spoke fer the sake of Alfaretta's soul, and fer the sake of them +that's heard her say them things about Tom Davis, provin' there wasn't +any punishment for sinners. Don't look so, preacher!" + +"Tell me her name!" + +"Her name--her name? Oh, you know it, sir, you know it--it's--your wife, +preacher." + +John Ward sprang at the cowering figure of the big elder, and clinched +his trembling hands on the man's shoulders, with an inarticulate cry. + +"My wife!" he said, between his teeth. "How dare you speak her name!" He +stopped, struggling for breath. + +"My duty!" gasped the elder, trying to loosen the trembling fingers--"to +her--an' you--an' the church you've starved and neglected, Brother Ward!" + +John blenched. Mr. Dean saw his advantage. "You know your vows when you +were ordained here six years ago: do you keep them? Do you feed your +people with spiritual food, or will you neglect them for your wife's +sake, and let her example send the souls in your care to endless ruin?" + +John had loosened his hold on the elder, and was leaning against the +wall, his head bowed upon his breast and his hands knotted together. A +passion of horrified grief swept across his face; he seemed unconscious +of the elder's presence. Mr. Dean looked at him, not certain what to do +or say; he had quite forgotten Alfaretta's "notice." At last the preacher +raised his head. + +"You have said enough," he said, in a low voice; "now go," and he pointed +with a shaking finger to the door. "Go!" he repeated. + +The elder hesitated, then slowly put on his hat and stumbled from the +room. John did not notice his outstretched hand, but followed him blindly +to the door, and locked it after him. + +The full blaze of sunshine flooded the room with its pitiless mirth; it +was wilting the dish of violets, and he moved it to the shaded end of the +table. + + * * * * * + +Alfaretta, peering out of her attic window, and wiping her eyes on the +corner of the dimity curtain which hid her, saw the elder walk out of the +parsonage and through the little gateway, with shame written on his +drooping shoulders and in his hurried, shambling steps. He never once +looked back. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Almost before Elder Dean had left the threshold Helen stood at the bolted +door. She turned the knob gently while she knocked. + +"John," she said anxiously,--"John, dear!" But there was no answer. + +"John!" she said again, a thread of fear in her voice. "What is the +matter? Are you ill, dearest? Please let me in!" + +Only the rustle of the wind outside and the flickering shadows across the +hall answered her. She shook the door slightly, and then listened. "John, +John!" she called again, and as she heard a long breath inside the closed +room she leaned against the wall, faint with a fright she had not +realized. She heard a slow footstep upon the floor, that stopped on the +other side of the door. + +"Helen," her husband said, in a voice she scarcely knew, "I want to be +alone. I am not ill, but I must be--undisturbed. Will you go away, +please?" + +"Let me in just one moment, darling," she pleaded, still nervously +turning the knob. "I won't disturb you, but it terrifies me to be shut +out in this way. Please let me just see you, and then I will go right +away." + +"No," he answered, "I cannot see you. I do not want to see you, Helen. +I must be alone just now." + +"You are sure you are not ill?" she insisted. + +"Quite sure." + +"Well," she said reluctantly, "I'll go, but call me just as soon as I can +come, will you?" + +"Yes," he answered, "but do not come until I do call you." + +She heard him walk back to his study table, and then silence seemed to +fall like a shadow on her heart. She was more bewildered than before. +John was in trouble, and she could not help him. Nevertheless, she did +not speak again; she was one of those unusual women who are content to +wait until the moment it is needed, to give their sympathy or tenderness. +So she went to her own room, and sat wistfully looking out at the sweet +spring day; she could not read while this anxiety filled her mind, and +her hands were idle in her lap. She did not even summon John to luncheon, +knowing he would come if he saw fit; for herself, she could not eat. It +was almost five, when she heard John push his chair back (she was sitting +on the lowest step of the staircase, which ended at the study door, +leaning her head against the frame), and again her ear caught the heavy, +long-drawn sigh. Her suspense was to end. + +She rose, her hands pressed hard together to check their trembling; she +bit her lip lest she might speak and disturb him one moment before he was +ready to hear her. + +He pushed back the bolt, and slowly opened the door and looked at her. +All the words of love and anxiety died on her lips. + +"John," she whispered,--"oh, my dear, what is it?" + +He came out, and, putting his hands on her shoulders, looked down at her +with terrible, unsmiling eyes. "Helen," he said, "I am grieved to have +distressed you so, but it had to be. I had to be alone. I am in much +trouble. No," laying his hand gently on her lips; "listen to me, dearest. +I am in great distress of soul; and just now, just for a few days, I must +bear it alone." + +Helen felt a momentary sense of relief. Distress of soul?--that meant +some spiritual anxiety, and it had not the awfulness to her which a more +tangible trouble, such as sickness, would have. + +"What is it, John? Tell me," she said, looking at him with overflowing +love, but without an understanding sympathy; it was more that feeling +which belongs to strong women, of maternal tenderness for the men they +love, quite apart from an intellectual appreciation of their trouble. + +John shook his head. "I must bear it alone, Helen. Do not ask me what it +is; I cannot tell you yet." + +"You cannot tell me? Oh, John, your sorrow belongs to me; don't shut me +out; tell me, dear, and let me help you." + +"You cannot help me," he answered wearily; "only trust me when I say it +is best for me not to tell you now; you shall know all there is to know, +later. Be patient just a few days,--until after the Sabbath. Oh, bear +with me,--I am in great sorrow, Helen; help me with silence." + +She put her arms around him, and in her caressing voice, with that deep +note in it, she said, "It shall be just as you say, darling. I won't ask +you another question, but I'm ready to hear whenever you want to tell +me." + +He looked at her with haggard eyes, but did not answer. Then she drew +him out into the fresh coolness of the garden, and tried to bring some +brightness into his face by talking of small household happenings, and +how she had missed him during his two weeks' absence, and what plans she +had for the next week. But no smile touched his white lips, or banished +the absent look in his eyes. After tea, during which his silence had not +been broken, he turned to go into his study. + +"Oh, you are not going to work to-night?" Helen cried. "Don't leave me +alone again!" + +He looked at her with sudden wistfulness. "I--I must," he said, his voice +so changed it gave her a shock of pain. "I must work on my sermon." + +"I thought you had written it," she said; "and you are so tired--do wait +until to-morrow." + +"I am not going to use the sermon I prepared," he answered. "I have +decided to preach more directly on foreign missions. You know I exchange +with Mr. Grier, of Chester, on the Sabbath; and he will preach to our +church on the attitude of Assembly towards missions. I had intended to +give a more general sermon to his people, but--I have decided otherwise." + +Helen was surprised at so long an explanation; John's sermons were +generally ignored by both, but for different reasons. She followed him +into the study, and when she had lighted his lamp he kissed her, saying +softly, "May God bless you, Helen," and then he shut her gently from the +room. + +"Don't lock the door, John," she had said. "I won't come in, but don't +lock it." Her lip almost trembled as she spoke. + +"No,--no," he said tenderly. "Oh, Helen, I have made you suffer!" + +She was quick to protect him. "No, I was only lonely; but you won't lock +it?" + +He did not, but poor Helen wandered forlornly about the darkened house, +an indefinable dread chasing away the relief which had come when her +husband spoke of spiritual trouble; she was glad, for the mere humanness +of it, to hear Thaddeus and Alfaretta talking in the kitchen. + +The next day, and the next, dragged slowly by. When John was not at his +writing-table, he was making those pastoral calls which took so much time +and strength, and which Helen always felt were unnecessary. Once, seeing +her standing leaning her forehead against the window and looking out +sadly into the rainy garden, he came up to her and took her in his arms, +holding her silently to his heart. That cheered and lightened her, and +somehow, when Sunday morning dawned, full of the freshness of the past +rain and the present wind and sunshine, she felt the gloom of the last +three days lifting a little. True, there was the unknown sorrow in her +heart, but love was there, too. She was almost happy, without knowing it. + +They were to go on horseback, for Chester was eight miles off, and the +thought of a ride in this sparkling mountain air brought a glow to her +cheek, which had been pale the last few days. They started early. The sun +seemed to tip the great green bowl of the valley, and make every leaf +shine and glisten; the road wound among the circling hills, which were +dark with sombre pines, lightened here and there by the fresh greenness +of ash or chestnuts; in some places the horse's hoofs made a velvety +sound on the fallen catkins. A brook followed their path, whispering and +chattering, or hiding away under overhanging bushes, and then laughing +sharply out into the sunshine again. The wind was fresh and fickle; +sometimes twisting the weeds and flowers at the wayside, or sending a +dash of last night's raindrops into their faces from the low branches +of the trees, and all the while making cloud shadows scud over the +fresh-ploughed fields, and up and across the blue, distant hills. + +John rested his hand on her bridle, as she stroked her horse's mane. "How +the wind has blown your hair from under your hat!" he said. + +She put her gauntleted hand up to smooth it. + +"Don't," he said, "it's so pretty; it looks like little tendrils that +have caught the sun." + +Helen laughed, and then looked at him anxiously; the sunshine brought out +the worn lines in his face. "You work too hard, dearest; it worries me." + +"I have never worked at all!" he cried, with a sudden passion of pain in +his voice. "Oh, my wasted life, Helen,--my life that has wronged and +cheated you!" + +"John!" she said, almost frightened. Yet it was characteristic that she +should think this was only a symptom of overwork and bodily weariness. +And when at last they reached the church in Chester, and John lifted her +from her saddle, the anxiety had come again, and all the joy of the +summer morning had left her face. They fastened their horses to one of +the big chestnuts which stood in a stately row in front of the little +white church, and then Helen went inside, and found a seat by one of the +open windows; she secretly pushed the long inside shutter, with its drab +slats turned down, half-way open, so that she might look out across the +burying-ground, where the high blossoming grass nodded and waved over the +sunken graves. + +John had followed her, and folded a coat over the back of the pew. He +gave her a long, yearning look, but did not speak. Then he turned, and +walked slowly up the aisle, with reverently bent head. + +At the first hymn the congregation turned and faced the choir. Helen, +with the shadows of the leaves playing across her hymn-book, leaned +against the high back of the pew behind her, and sang in a strong, sweet +voice, rejoicing in the rolling old tune of "Greenland's icy mountains." +She could see the distant line of the hills, and now and then between the +branches of the trees would come the flash and ripple of the brown river; +and through the open door, which made a frame for the leaves and sky, she +caught sight of the row of horses pounding and switching under the +chestnuts, and those backsliders outside, who found it necessary to "see +to the beasts" rather than attend their religious privileges. But there +were not very many of these, for Mr. Ward's fame as a preacher had spread +through all the villages near Lockhaven. + +Helen, watching John while he read the chapter from the Bible, thought +anxiously how tired and worn his face looked, and so thinking, and +looking out into the dancing leaves, the short prayer, and the long +prayer, and the hymn before the sermon passed, and she scarcely heard +them. Then came the rustle of preparation for listening. The men shuffled +about in their seats, and crossed their legs; the women settled their +bonnet-strings, and gave the little children a peppermint drop, and the +larger children a hymn-book to read. There were the usual rustling and +whispering in the choir, and the creaking footsteps of the one or two who +entered shamefacedly, as though they would explain that the horses had +detained them. Then the church was very still. + +John Ward rose, and spread his manuscript out upon the velvet cushion of +the white pulpit. + +"You will find my text," he said, "in the sixth chapter of Romans, the +twenty-first verse: 'The end of those things is death.'" + +It had been announced that his sermon was to be upon foreign missions, +and the people waited patiently while the preacher briefly told them what +had been accomplished by the Presbyterian Church during the last year, +and, describing its methods of work, showed what it proposed to do in the +future. + +"That's just a-tunin' up,--he'll set the heathen dancin' pretty soon; you +see!" some one whispered behind Helen; and then there was a giggle and +"hush-sh," as Mr. Ward began to say that foreign missions were inevitable +wherever the sentiment of pity found room in a human heart, because the +guilt of those in the darkness of unbelief, without God, without hope, +would certainly doom them to eternal misery; and this was a thought so +dark and awful, men could not go their way, one to his farm, and another +to his merchandise, and leave them to perish. + +The simple and unquestioning conviction with which the preacher began to +prove to his congregation that the heathen were guilty, because Adam, +their federal head and representative, had sinned, perhaps hid from them +the cruelty with which he credited the Deity. No one thought of disputing +his statement that the wrath of God rested upon all unconverted souls, +and that it would, unless they burst from their darkness into the +glorious light of revealed truth, sink them to hell. + +Some of the older Christians nodded their heads comfortably at this, and +looked keenly at the sinners of their own families, trusting that they +would be awakened to their danger by these trumpet bursts of doctrine. To +such hearers, it was unnecessary that John Ward should insist upon the +worthlessness of natural religion, begging them remember that for these +heathen, as well as for more favored souls, Christ's was the only name +given under heaven whereby men might be saved, and appealing to God's +people, as custodians of the mercies of Christ, to stretch their hands +out into the darkness to these blind, stumbling, doomed brothers. He bade +them be quick to answer that cry of "Come and help us!" and to listen for +that deeper voice beneath the wail of despair, which said, "Inasmuch as +ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done +it unto me." + +The possibility of being saved without a knowledge of Christ remained, +he said, after eighteen hundred years, a possibility illustrated by no +example; and we could only stand in the shadow of this terrible fact, +knowing that millions and millions of souls were living without the +gospel, the only source of life, and dying without hope, and pray God for +the spirit and the means to help them. + +Link by link he lengthened the chain of logic till it reached to the +deepest hell. He showed how blasphemous was the cry that men must be +saved, if for lack of opportunity they knew not Christ; that God would +not damn the soul that had had no chance to accept salvation. It had had +the chance of salvation in Adam, and had lost it, and was therefore +condemned. To the preacher this punishment of the helpless heathen seemed +only just. + +"Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" he cried, and he stopped +to suppose, for the sake of argument, that Adam had not sinned: surely no +one would have disputed the justice of receiving the blessings which his +godliness would have entailed. Then he began to prove the right of the +potter over the clay. He had forgotten his congregation; the horror of +the damnation of the heathen was lost in the fear that one soul should +perish. He saw only Helen; she was in danger, she was far from God, but +yet the price of admission to heaven could not be altered, though his +heart broke for longing that she should be saved; the requirements of the +gospel had not softened, the decrees of Omnipotence were as unchangeable +as the eternal past. + +His words, glowing with his love and grief, were only for her. The +thunders of God's justice shook his soul, while he offered her the +infinite mercy of Christ. But he did not shrink from acknowledging that +that mercy was only for those who would accept it, nor presume to dictate +to God that all sinners should be saved, forced into salvation, without +accepting his conditions. + +"What right," he said, "have we to expect that mercy should exist at all? +What madness, then, to think He will depart from the course He has laid +out for himself, and save without condition those who are justly +condemned? Yet justice is satisfied, for Christ has died. O Soul, accept +that sacrifice!" He had come to the edge of the pulpit, one pale hand +clinched upon the heavy cover of the Bible, and the other stretched +tremblingly out; his anxious, grieving eyes looked over the solemn, +upturned faces of his listeners, and sought Helen, sitting in the dusky +shadow by the open window, her face a little averted, and her firm, sweet +lips set in a line which was almost stern. + +Some of the women were crying: an exaltation purely hysterical made them +feel themselves lost sinners; they thrilled at John's voice, as though +his words touched some strained chord in their placid and virtuous lives. + +"Come," he said, "stand with me to-day under the pierced hands and +bleeding side of Infinite Mercy; look up into that face of divine +compassion and ineffable tenderness, and know that this blood-stained +cross proclaims to all the centuries death suffered for the sin of the +world,--for your sin and mine. Can you turn and go away to outer +darkness, to wander through the shadows of eternity, away from God, away +from hope, away from love? Oh, come, while still those arms are open to +you; come, before the day of grace has darkened into night; come, before +relentless Justice bars the way with a flaming sword. O Soul, Christ +waits!" + +He stood a moment, leaning forward, his hands clasped upon the big Bible, +and his face full of trembling and passionate pleading. Then he said, +with a long, indrawn breath, "Let us pray!" + +The people rose, and stood with bowed heads through the short, eager, +earnest prayer. Then the preacher gave out the hymn, and there was the +rustle of turning to face the choir. The quaint, doleful tune of Windham +wailed and sobbed through the words,-- + + "The burden of our weighty guilt + Would sink us down to flames; + And threatening vengeance rolls above, + To crush our feeble frames!" + +The choir sang with cheerful heartiness; it was a relief from the tension +of the sermon, a reaction to life, and hope, and healthy humanness after +these shadows of death. It all seemed part of a dream to Helen: the two +happy-faced girls standing in the choir, with bunches of apple-blossoms +in the belts of their fresh calico dresses, and the three young farmers +who held the green singing-books open, all singing heartily together,-- + + "'Tis boundless, 'tis amazing love, + That bears us up from hell!" + +Helen watched them with fascinated curiosity; she wondered if they could +believe what they had just heard. Surely not; or how could they know a +moment's happiness, or even live! + +After the benediction had been pronounced she walked absently down the +aisle, and went at once to her horse under the flickering shadows of the +chestnuts. Here she waited for John, one hand twisted in the gray's mane, +and with the other switching at the tall grass with her riding-whip. Only +a few of the people knew her, but these came to speak of the sermon. One +woman peered at her curiously from under her big shaker bonnet. The +stories of Mr. Ward's wife's unbelief had traveled out from Lockhaven. +"Wonderful how some folks could stand against such doctrine!" she said; +"and yet they must know it's a sin not to believe in everlasting +punishment. I believe it's a mortal sin, don't you, Mrs. Ward?" + +"No," Helen said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +They rode quite silently to the house of the minister with whom John had +exchanged, where they were to dine; after that, the preacher was to go +back to the church for the afternoon sermon. + +Mrs. Grier, a spare, anxious-looking woman, with a tight friz of hair +about her temples which were thin and shining, met them at the door. She +had hurried home to "see to things," and be ready to welcome her guests. +John she ushered at once into her husband's study, a poor little room, +with even fewer books than Mr. Ward's own, while Helen she took to the +spare chamber, where she had thoughtfully provided a cambric dress for +her, for the day had grown very warm, and the riding-habit was heavy. + +She sat down in a splint rocking-chair, and watched her guest brush out +her length of shining bronze hair, and twist it in a firm coil low on her +neck. + +"It was a good gathering," she said; "people came from a distance to +hear Mr. Ward. The folks at Lockhaven are favored to listen to such +preaching." + +"No doubt they feel favored to have Mr. Grier with them to-day," Helen +answered, courteously; but there was an absent look in her eyes, and she +did not listen closely. + +"Well, people like a change once in a while," Mrs. Grier admitted, +rocking hard. "Mr. Grier's discourse was to be on the same subject as +your husband's, foreign missions. It is one that moves the preachers, and +the people seem to like it, I notice, though I don't know that it makes +much difference in the collections. But I think they like to get all +harrowed up. You'll find there won't be such an attendance in the +afternoon. It is ways and means, then, you know. Yes, seems as if sermons +on hell made them shiver, and they enjoyed it. I've sometimes thought--I +don't know as I'm right--they get the same kind of pleasure out of it +that worldly people do out of a play. Not that I know much about such +things, I'm sure." + +Helen smiled, which rather shocked Mrs. Grier; but though the guest +scarcely listened, the little sharp babble of talk was kept up, until +they went down to dinner. + +There had been no chance for the husband and wife to speak to each other. +John looked at Helen steadily a moment, but her eyes veiled any thought. +In the midst of Mrs. Grier's chatter, she had gone into the solitude of +her own heart, and slowly and silently light was beginning to shine into +the mysterious darkness of the last few days. John's grief must have had +something to do with this terrible sermon. She felt her heart leap up +from the past anxiety like a bird from a net, and the brooding sadness +began to fade from her face. The preacher had come down from the pulpit +with a certain exhilaration, as of duty done. He was inspired to hope, +and even certainty, by the greatness of the theme. Helen should see the +truth, his silence should no longer mislead her, she should believe in +the justice of God. He had forgotten his sin of cowardice in the +onward-sweeping wave of his convictions; he seemed to yield himself up to +the grasp of truth, and lost even personal remorse in the contemplation +of its majesty. + +Mrs. Grier had four noisy children, who all spoke at once, and needed +their mother's constant care and attention, so John and Helen could at +least be silent; yet it was hard to sit through the dinner when their +hearts were impatient for each other. + +In a little breathing space at the end of the meal, when two of the +children had clambered down from their high chairs and been dismissed, +Mrs. Grier began to speak of the sermon. + +"It was a wonderful discourse, sir," she said; "seems as if nobody could +stand against such doctrine as you gave us. I could have wished, though, +you'd have told us your thoughts about infants being lost. There is a +difference of opinion between Mr. Grier and two of our elders." + +"What does Brother Grier hold?" asked the preacher. + +"Well," Mrs. Grier answered, shaking her head, "he does say they are all +saved. But the elders, they say that the confession of faith teaches that +elect infants are saved, and of course it follows that those not elect +are lost. My father, Mr. Ward, was a real old-fashioned Christian, and I +must say that was what I was taught to believe, and I hold by it. There +now, Ellen, you take your little sister and go out into the garden, like +a good girl." + +She lifted the baby down from her chair, and put her hand into that of +her elder sister. + +"Mrs. Grier," Helen said, speaking quickly, "you say you believe it, but +if you had ever lost a child, I am sure you could not." + +"I have, ma'am,"--Mrs. Grier's thin lip quivered, and her eyes reddened +a little,--"but that can't make any difference in truth; besides, we have +the blessed hope that she was an elect infant." + +It would have been cruel to press the reason for this hope, and Helen +listened instead with a breath of relief to what John was saying,--he, at +least, did not hold this horrible doctrine. + +"No, I agree with your husband," he said. "True, all children are born in +sin, and are despised and abhorred as sinners by God. Jonathan Edwards, +you know, calls them 'vipers,' which of course was a crude and cruel way +of stating the truth, that they are sinners. Yet, through the infinite +mercy, they are saved because Christ died, not of themselves; in other +words, all infants who die, are elect." + +Mrs. Grier shook her head. "I'm for holding to the catechism," she said; +and then, with a sharp, thin laugh, she added, "But you're sound on the +heathen, I must say." + +Helen shivered, and it did not escape her hostess, who turned and looked +at her with interested curiosity. She, too, had heard the Lockhaven +rumors. + +"But then," she proceeded, "I don't see how a parson can help being sound +on that, though it is surprising what people will doubt, even the things +that are plainest to other people. I've many a time heard my father say +that the proper holding of the doctrine of reprobation was necessary to +eternal life. I suppose you believe that, Mr. Ward," she added, with a +little toss of her head, "even if you don't go all the way with the +confession, about infants?" + +"Yes," John said sadly, "I must; because not to believe in reprobation is +to say that the sacrifice of the cross was a useless offering." + +"And of course," Mrs. Grier went on, an edge of sarcasm cutting into her +voice, "Mrs. Ward thinks so, too? Of course she thinks that a belief in +hell is necessary to get to heaven?" + +The preacher looked at his wife with a growing anxiety in his face. + +"No," Helen said, "I do not think so, Mrs. Grier." + +Mrs. Grier flung up her little thin hands, which looked like bird-claws. +"You _don't_!" she cried shrilly. "Well, now, I do say! And what do you +think about the heathen, then? Do you think they'll be damned?" + +"No," Helen said again. + +Mrs. Grier gave a gurgle of astonishment, and looked at Mr. Ward, but he +did not speak. + +"Well," she exclaimed, "if I didn't think the heathen would be lost, I +wouldn't see the use of the plan of salvation! Why, they've got to be!" + +"If they had to be," cried Helen, with sudden passion, "I should want to +be a heathen. I should be ashamed to be saved, if there were so many +lost." She stopped; the anguish in John's face silenced her. + +"Well," Mrs. Grier said again, really enjoying the scene, "_I'm_ +surprised; I wouldn't a' believed it!" + +She folded her hands across her waist, and looked at Mrs. Ward with keen +interest. Helen's face flushed under the contemptuous curiosity in the +woman's eyes; she turned appealingly to John. + +"Mrs. Ward does not think quite as we do, yet," he said gently; "you know +she has not been a Presbyterian as long as we have." + +He rose as he spoke, and came and stood by Helen's chair, and then walked +at her side into the parlor. + +Mrs. Grier had followed them, and heard Helen say in a low voice, "I +would rather not go to church this afternoon, dearest. May I wait for you +here?" + +"Well," she broke in, "I shouldn't suppose you would care to go, so long +as it's just about the ways and means of sending the gospel to the +heathen, and you think they're all going right to heaven, any way." + +"I do not know where they are going, Mrs. Grier," Helen said wearily; +"for all I know, there is no heaven, either. I only know that God--if +there is a God who has any personal care for us--could not be so wicked +and cruel as to punish people for what they could not help." + +"Good land!" cried Mrs. Grier, really frightened at such words, and +looking about as though she expected a judgment as immediate as the bears +which devoured the scoffing children. + +"If you would rather not go," John answered, "if you are tired, wait for +me here. I am sure Mrs. Grier will let you lie down and rest until it is +time to start for home?" + +"Oh, of course," responded Mrs. Grier, foreseeing a chance for further +investigation, for she, too, was to be at home. + +But Helen did not invite her to come into the spare room, when she went +to lie down, after John's departure for church. She wanted to be alone. +She had much to think of, much to reconcile and explain, to protect +herself from the unhappiness which John's sermon might have caused her. +She had had an unmistakable shock of pain and distress as she realized +her husband's belief, and to feel even that seemed unloving and disloyal. +To Helen's mind, if she disapproved of her husband's opinions on what to +her was an unimportant subject, her first duty was to banish the thought, +and forget that she had ever had it. She sat now by the open window, +looking out over the bright garden to the distant peaceful hills, and by +degrees the pain of it began to fade from her mind, in thoughts of John +himself, his goodness, and their love. Yes, they loved one another,--that +was enough. + +"What does it matter what his belief is?" she said. "I love him!" + +So, by and by, the content of mere existence unfolded in her heart, and +John's belief was no more to her than a dress of the mind; his character +was unchanged. There was a momentary pang that the characters of others +might be hurt by this teaching of the expediency of virtue, but she +forced the thought back. John, whose whole life was a lesson in the +beauty of holiness--John could not injure any one. The possibility that +he might be right in his creed simply never presented itself to her. + +Helen's face had relaxed into a happy smile; again the day was fair and +the wind sweet. The garden below her was fragrant with growing things and +the smell of damp earth; and while she sat, drinking in its sweetness, a +sudden burst of children's voices reached her ear, and Ellen and the two +little boys came around the corner of the house, and settled down under +the window. A group of lilacs, with feathery purple blossoms, made a +deep, cool shade, where the children sat; and near them was an old +grindstone, streaked with rust, and worn by many summers of sharpening +scythes; a tin dipper hung on the wooden frame, nearly full of last +night's rain, and with some lilac stars floating in the water. + +This was evidently a favorite playground with the children, for under the +frame of the grindstone were some corn-cob houses, and a little row of +broken bits of china, which their simple imagination transformed into +"dishes." But to-day the corn-cob houses and the dishes were untouched. + +"Now, children," Ellen said, "you sit right down, and I'll hear your +catechism." + +"Who'll hear yours?" Bobby asked discontentedly. "When we play school, +you're always teacher, and it's no fun." + +"This isn't playing school," Ellen answered, skillfully evading the first +question. "Don't you know it's wicked to play on the Sabbath? Now sit +right down." + +There was a good deal of her mother's sharpness in the way she said this, +and plucked Bobby by the strings of his pinafore, until he took an +uncomfortable seat upon an inverted flower-pot. + +Ellen opened a little yellow-covered book, and began. + +"Now answer, Jim! How many kinds of sin are there?" + +"Two," responded little Jim. + +"What are these two kinds, Bob?" + +"Original and actual," Bob answered. + +"What is original sin?" asked Ellen, raising one little forefinger to +keep Bobby quiet. This was too hard a question for Jim, and with some +stumbling Bobby succeeded in saying,-- + +"It is that sin in which I was conceived and born." + +"Now, Jim," said Ellen, "you can answer this question, 'cause it's only +one word, and begins with 'y.'" + +"No fair!" cried Bob; "that's telling." + +But Ellen proceeded to give the question: "Doth original sin wholly +defile you, and is it sufficient to send you to hell, though you had no +other sin?" + +"Yes!" roared Jim, pleased at being certainly right. + +"What are you then by nature?" Ellen went on rather carelessly, for she +was growing tired of the lesson. + +"I am an enemy to God, a child of Satan, and an heir of hell," answered +Bobby promptly. + +"What will become of the wicked?" asked the little catechist. + +Bobby yawned, and then said contemptuously, "Oh, skip that,--cast into +hell, of course." + +"You ought to answer right," Ellen said reprovingly, but she was glad to +give the last question, "What will the wicked do forever in hell?" + +"They will roar, curse, and blaspheme God," said little Jim cheerfully; +while Bobby, to show his joy that the lesson was done, leaned over on his +flower-pot, and tried to stand on his head, making all the time an +unearthly noise. + +"I'm roarin'!" he cried gayly. + +Ellen, freed from the responsibility of teaching, put the little yellow +book quickly in her pocket, and said mysteriously, "Boys, if you won't +ever tell, I'll tell you something." + +"I won't," said Jim, while Bobby responded briefly, "G'on." + +"Well, you know when the circus came,--you know the pictures on the +fences?" + +"Yes!" said the little boys together. + +"'Member the beautiful lady, ridin' on a horse, and standin' on one +foot?" + +"Yes!" the others cried, breathlessly. + +"Well," said Ellen slowly and solemnly, "when I get to be a big girl, +that's what I'm going to be. I'm tired of catechism, and church, and +those long blessings father asks, but most of catechism, so I'm going +to run away, and be a circus." + +"Father'll catch you," said Jim; but Bobby, with envious depreciation, +added,-- + +"How do you know but what circuses have catechism?" + +Ellen did not notice the lack of sympathy. "And I'm going to begin to +practice now," she said. + +Then, while her brothers watched her, deeply interested, she took off her +shoes, and in her well-darned little red stockings climbed deliberately +upon the grindstone. + +"This is my horse," she said, balancing herself, with outstretched arms, +on the stone, and making it revolve in a queer, jerky fashion by pressing +her feet on it as though it were a treadmill, "and it is bare-backed!" + +The iron handle came down with a thud, and Ellen lurched to keep from +falling; the boys unwisely broke into cheers. + +It made a pretty picture, the sunbeams sifting through the lilacs on the +little fair heads, and dancing over Ellen's white apron and rosy face; +but Mrs. Grier, who had come to the door at the noise of the cheers, did +not stop to notice it. + +"Oh, you naughty children!" she cried. "Don't you know it is wicked to +play on the Sabbath? Ellen's playing circus, do you say, Bobby? You +naughty, naughty girl! Don't you know circus people are all wicked, and +don't go to heaven when they die? I should think you'd be ashamed! Go +right up-stairs, Ellen, and go to bed; and you boys can each learn a +psalm, and you'll have no supper, either,--do you hear?" + +The children began to cry, but Mrs. Grier was firm; and when, a little +later, Helen came down-stairs, ready for her ride, the house was +strangely quiet. Mrs. Grier, really troubled at her children's +sinfulness, confided their misdeeds to Helen, and was not soothed +by the smile that flashed across her face. + +"They were such good children to study their catechism first," she +interceded, "and making a horse out of a grindstone shows an imagination +which might excuse the playing." + +But Mrs. Grier was not comforted, and only felt the more convinced of the +lost condition of Mrs. Ward's soul. The conviction of other people's sin +is sometimes a very pleasing emotion, so she bade her guest good-by with +much cordiality and even pulled the skirt of her habit straight, and gave +the gray a lump of sugar. + +Helen told John of the scene under the lilacs, as they trotted down the +lane to the highway, but his mood was too grave to see any humor in it. +Indeed, his frame of mind had changed after he left his wife for his +second sermon. The exhilaration and triumph had gone, and the reaction +had come. He brooded over his sin, and the harassed, distressed look of +the last few days settled down again on his face. But Helen had regained +her sweet serenity and content; she felt so certain that the darkness +since Thursday had been the shadow in which his sermon had been conceived +that her relief brought a joy which obscured any thought of regret that +he should hold such views. + +John's head was bent, and his hands were clasped upon his saddle-bow, +while the reins fell loosely from between his listless fingers. + +"You are so tired, John," Helen said regretfully. + +He sighed, as though rousing himself from thought. "A little, dearest," +and then his sorrowful eyes smiled. "You look so fresh and rested, Helen. +It was wise for you to lie down this afternoon." + +"Oh, but I didn't," she said quickly. "I was busy thinking." + +He looked at her eagerly. "Yes," she continued, "I think I know what has +distressed you so these last few days, dear. It is this thought of the +suffering of mankind. If you have felt that all the heathen who have died +are in hell, I don't wonder at your sorrow. It would be dreadful, and I +wish you did not think it. But we will not talk about it,--of course you +would rather not talk about it, even to me, but I understand." + +She bent forward, and smiled brightly, as she looked at him. But his face +was full of grief. + +"It was not that, Helen," he said; "it was something nearer than that. +It was remorse, because of late, for nearly a year, I have neglected my +people. I have not admonished them and warned them as I ought. And nearer +still, because I have neglected you." + +"Me!" she cried, too much astonished to say more. + +"Yes," he answered, his head bent again upon his breast, "you, my +dearest, my best beloved,--you, who are dearer than my life to me, dearer +than my happiness. I have known that you have been far from truth, that +you have not believed, and yet I--I have been silent." + +Helen looked at him, and the sudden awful thought flashed into her mind +that he did not know what he was saying, and then she said with a gasp: +"Oh, John, is that all? Have you been so unhappy just because of that? +Oh, you poor fellow!" + +She brought her horse close beside his, and laid her hand on his arm. +"Dear, what does it matter what I believe or do not believe? We love each +other. And where is your tolerance, John?" She laughed, but the look of +terrible concern in his face frightened her. + +"Ah, Helen," he said, "such tolerance as you would have me show would be +indifference." + +"Oh, John!" she said, and then began resolutely to speak of other things. + +But soon they fell into silence, Helen longing to get home and brush this +useless and foolish anxiety from her husband's heart, and he agonizing +for his sin towards her and towards his people. + +The late afternoon sunshine gilded the tender green of the fields, and +slanting deep into the darkness of the woods, touched the rough trunks of +the trees with gold. Long shadows stretched across the road, and the +fragrance which steals out with the evening dews began to come from +unseen blossoms, and early clover; and a breath of the uncertain night +wind brought hints of apple orchards or the pungent sweetness of +cherry-blossoms. They had gone more than half-way home when they drew +rein to water their horses, under a whispering pine by the roadside. The +trough, overflowing with sparkling water, was green with moss and lichen, +and was so old and soft that a bunch of ferns had found a home on its +side. The horses thrust their noses down into it, blowing and sputtering +with sheer delight in the coolness. John made a cup of a big beech leaf, +and filled it for his wife. As he handed it to her, they heard steps, and +in a moment more Mr. Grier came around the curve of the road. His horse, +too, was thirsty, and he let the reins fall on its neck while he greeted +them both with formal and ministerial dignity, saying he "wished they +might have tarried until he came home, and perhaps he could have +persuaded them to stay the night." + +The horses pounded and splashed in the pools about their feet, and were +impatient to be off, but Mr. Grier delayed. He spoke of church matters, +and General Assembly, and their respective congregations; and then, with +a little hesitation, he said:-- + +"I had almost hoped, Mrs. Ward, that you would have been in Brother +Ward's church to-day, even though Mrs. Grier had much pleasure in seeing +you under our roof. I had you in my mind in the preparation of my +sermon." + +Mr. Grier was a tall, thin man, with watery blue eyes, and a sparse sandy +beard growing like a fringe under his chin from ear to ear. He moved his +jaws nervously as he waited for her answer, and plucked at his beard with +long, lean fingers. + +Helen smiled. "Did you think I should be a large contributor to foreign +missions, Mr. Grier?" + +"No, ma'am," he answered solemnly, "I was not thinking of any benefit to +the heathen. I had somewhat to say which I felt might be for the good of +your own soul." + +Helen flushed, and flung her head back with a haughty look. "Ah,--you are +very good, I'm sure," she said, "but"-- + +Mr. Grier interrupted her, wagging his head up and down upon his breast: +"Brother Ward will forgive me for saying so, ma'am, but I had your +welfare at heart. Brother Ward, you have my prayers for your dear wife." + +"I--I thank you," John said, "but you must not feel that my wife is far +from the Lord. Have you been told that the truth is not clear to her +eyes? Yet it will be!" + +"I hope so,--I hope so," responded Mr. Grier, but with very little hope +in his voice; and then, shaking the reins, he jogged on down the shadowy +road. + +"What does he mean?" cried Helen, her voice trembling with anger, and +careless whether the retreating minister overheard her. John gave her a +long, tender look. + +"Dearest," he said, "I am sorry he should have spoken as he did, but the +prayers of a good man"-- + +"I don't want his prayers," she interrupted, bewildered; "it seems to me +simply impertinence!" + +"Helen," he said, "it cannot be impertinence to pray for a soul in +danger, as yours is, my darling. I cannot tell how he knew it, but it is +so. It is my sin which has kept you blind and hidden the truth from you, +and how can I be angry if another man joins his prayers to mine for your +eternal salvation?" + +"You say this because I do not believe in eternal punishment, John?" she +asked. + +"Yes," he answered gently, "first because of that, and then because of +all the errors of belief to which that leads." + +"It all seems so unimportant," she said, sighing; "certainly nothing +which could make me claim the prayers of a stranger. Ah, well, no doubt +he means it kindly, but don't let us speak of it any more, dearest." + +Their horses were so close, that, glancing shyly about for a moment into +the twilight, Helen laid her head against his arm, and looked tenderly +into his face. + +He started, and then put a quick arm about her to keep her from falling. +"No," he said, "no, I will not forget." It was as though he answered some +voice in his soul, and Helen looked at him in troubled wonder. + +The rest of the ride was very silent. Once, when he stopped to tighten +her saddle-girth for her, she bent his head back, and smiled down into +his eyes. He only answered her by a look, but it was enough. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Gifford Woodhouse was not quite honest with himself when he said that he +felt it was time to go back to Ashurst to make his aunts a visit. He had +been restless and absent-minded very often since that flying trip in the +early spring. In spite of his sternest reasoning, hope was beginning to +grow up in his heart again. Dick Forsythe had not come to Ashurst, and +Helen said plainly that she knew Lois was not engaged to him. So why +should not Gifford himself be on the spot? + +"Not that I would bother Lois," he argued in his own mind, "but just to +know if"--And besides, he really ought to see the two little ladies. + +He left Lockhaven a few days after John Ward had preached his sermon on +foreign missions at Chester. It was reported to have been "powerful," +and Elder Dean said he wished "our own people could have been benefited +by it." + +"I thought the heathen were expected to be benefited by such sermons," +Gifford said, twisting a cigarette between his fingers, as he leaned over +the half-door of the elder's shop, lazily watching a long white shaving +curl up under his plane. "I thought the object was a large contribution." + +The elder looked up solemnly, and opened his lips with vast deliberation. +"Lawyer Woodhouse," he said, "that's your mistake. They're fer the +purpose of instructing us that the heathen is damned, so that we will +rejoice in our own salvation, and make haste to accept it if we are +unconverted." + +He looked hard at the young man as he spoke, for every one knew Lawyer +Woodhouse did not go regularly to church, and so, presumably, was not a +Christian. + +Then Mr. Dean, while he pulled the shavings out of his plane, and threw +them on the fragrant heap at his feet, said one or two things which made +Gifford stop lounging and forget his cigarette while he listened with a +grave face. "Unbelief in the church," "the example for our youth," "the +heresy of the preacher's wife." + +This was not the first time Gifford had heard such comments, but there +was a threat in Mr. Dean's voice, though he did not put it into words, +which made the young man carry a growing anxiety about Helen away with +him. He could not forget it, even in the rejoicings of his home-coming, +and he gave guarded answers about her which were unlike his usual +frankness. + +Lois noticed it, and wondered a little, but was perhaps more annoyed than +troubled by it. + +The shyness of her welcome Gifford quite misunderstood. + +"After all," he thought, "what was the use of coming? Whatever Forsythe's +chances are, there is one thing sure,--she does not care for me. She used +to have that old friendly way, at least; but even that is gone, now. I +might have known it. I was a fool to run into the fire again. Thank +Heaven, that cad isn't here. When he comes, I'll go!" + +And so he wandered forlornly about, his hands in his pockets, and a +disconsolate look on his face which greatly distressed his aunts. +Somehow, too, the big fellow's presence for any length of time +embarrassed them. They had been so long without a man in the house, they +realized suddenly that he took up a great deal of room, and that their +small subjects of conversation could not interest him. + +"Perhaps," said Miss Ruth shrewdly, "he has found some nice girl in +Lockhaven, and misses her. What do you think, sister?" + +"It is not impossible," answered Miss Deborah; "but, dear me, sister, +if only Helen Jeffrey had not married so young! I always felt that +Providence pointed to her for dear Giff." + +"Well," said Miss Ruth, a little color creeping into her cheek, "I think +Providence does arrange such things, and as Helen seems much attached to +Mr. Ward, no doubt that was meant. It is gratifying to think such things +always are meant. I have even thought that when a person no longer very +young, even quite advanced in life, remains unmarried, it was because the +other, appointed by Heaven, died, no doubt in infancy." + +Miss Deborah sniffed. "I should be sorry to think all marriages were +planned by Providence," she said, "for it would seem that Providence +showed very poor judgment sometimes. Look at Henry Dale. I'm sure there +were--_others_, who would have made him happier, and been quite as good +housekeepers, too." + +Miss Ruth mentioned her suspicion of the "nice girl in Lockhaven" to +Lois, while Miss Deborah added that it was really no pleasure to cook for +dear Giff; he was so out of spirits he didn't seem to care for anything; +he did not even eat the whigs, and Lois knew how fond he was of whigs. +Very likely dear Ruth was right. + +This made Lois's interest in Gifford still deeper, though she said, +tossing her head with airy impatience, that she did not believe there +were any nice girls in Lockhaven; there were only working people there. +Then she thought of that talk with Gifford at the stone bench, and +recalled the promise she had made, and how she had sealed it. Her cheeks +burned till they hurt her. + +"He has forgotten it all, long ago," she said to herself; "men never +remember such things. Well, he sha'n't think I remember!" + +But how often Gifford remembered! + +One afternoon he walked over to the stone bench, and sat down on the very +same sunken step from which he had looked up into Lois's face that June +evening. He saw a bunch of violets growing just where her foot must have +rested, and what was more natural--for Gifford was still young--than that +pencil and note-book should appear, and, with a long-drawn sigh, he +should write hastily,-- + + O Violet, + Dost thou forget? + +and then stop, perhaps to sharpen his pencil, and, if the truth be told, +to cast about for a rhyme. + +Alas, that love and poetry should be checked by anything so commonplace +as syllables! Let--wet--yet,--one can fit in the sense easily when the +proper rhyme has been decided upon; and who knows but that Gifford, lying +there in the grass, with the old lichen-covered step for a desk, might +have written a sonnet or a madrigal which would have given him his +heart's desire before the moon rose! But an interruption came. + +The rector and Mr. Denner were coming back from fishing, along the road +on the other side of the hedge, and Dr. Howe turned in here to follow the +garden path home, instead of taking the longer way. Both pushed through a +gap in the hedge, and discovered Gifford lying in the grass by the stone +bench. + +"Hello!" said the rector. "Working up a case, young man?" + +Perhaps Gifford was not altogether displeased to be interrupted; the +song we might have sung is always sweetest. At all events, he very +good-naturedly put his note-book back in his pocket, and rolling over on +his stomach, his elbows crushing down the soft grass and his fists under +his chin, began to talk to the two elder men. + +"Had good luck?" + +The rector shook his head ruefully. "Denner has two trout. Fate was +against me. Any fishing about Lockhaven, Gifford? Ward do any?" + +Gifford laughed. "He only fishes for men," he said. "He devotes himself +to it day and night. Especially of late; his fear of hell-fire for other +people's souls has seemed to take great hold on him." + +"Gad!" said Dr. Howe. "He's a queer fellow." + +"He's a good fellow," Gifford answered warmly. "And as to his belief, +why, you believe in hell, don't you, doctor?" + +"Oh, bless my soul, yes," said Dr. Howe, with a laugh, and with a twinkle +in his eyes. "I must, you know, and it's well to be on the safe side, +Giff; if you believe it here, theoretically, it is to be supposed you +won't believe it there, experimentally!" He laughed again, his big, jolly +laugh. "Good-by, Denner. You took all the luck." + +Then he trudged whistling up the path, striking at the hollyhocks with +his rod, and wondering how long it would take Sally to brush the mud off +his corduroys. + +But Mr. Denner delayed. He laid his rod tenderly down on the grass, and +his fishing-basket on the stone bench beside him. Gifford's sense of +humor padded a good many of the sharp points of life; he had to look less +doleful when he saw that the lawyer had chosen Lois's seat, and even her +attitude; his little shriveled hands were clasped upon his knees, and he +was bending forward, looking at the young man as he talked. Gifford +thought of a sonnet in his left breast-pocket, beginning, "To one who sat +'neath rustling poplar-tree," and smiled. + +"Well, now," said Mr. Denner, "it is pleasant to see you at home again, +Gifford. It must be a pleasure to your aunts." + +"It is a great pleasure to me," the young man replied. "I only wish that +I could carry them back to Lockhaven with me." + +"What, both of them?" Mr. Denner asked, in an alarmed way. + +"Oh, of course," answered the other; "they couldn't be separated. Why, +you cannot think of one of them without thinking of the other!" + +Mr. Denner sighed. "Just so, just so. I have observed that." + +"But I'm afraid," Gifford went on, "they wouldn't be quite happy there. +There's no church, you know,--I mean no Episcopal Church,--and then it +isn't like Ashurst. Except Helen and Mr. Ward, there are only working +people, though, for that matter, Ward works harder than anybody else. +Yes, they would miss Ashurst too much." + +"You really think they would miss--us?" said Mr. Denner eagerly. + +"Yes," responded Gifford slowly. He was beginning to look at the bunch of +violets again, and his aunts did not seem so interesting. + +"Well, now," Mr. Denner said, "I am sure I am glad to hear you say that, +very glad. We--ah--should miss them, I assure you." + +Gifford reached out and plucked up the violets by the roots, to save them +from Mr. Denner's drab gaiter, and planted them deep in a crevice of the +steps. + +"Ah--Gifford," said the lawyer, after he had waited a reasonable time for +an answer, "a--a friend of mine is in some perplexity concerning an +attachment; he wished my advice." + +Gifford began to look interested. + +"Foreclosure?" + +"You--ah, you do not exactly catch my meaning," answered the little +gentleman nervously. "I refer--he referred to an affair of--of the +affections. Of course you are too young to really understand these +things from a--a romantic point of view, as it were, but being a lawyer, +your--a--legal training--would make you consider such a matter +intelligently, and I might like your advice." + +"Oh!" said Gifford, seeming to grasp the situation. "Yes; I had one case +of that kind in Lockhaven. Jury gave damages to my client; seems they +had been engaged twelve years when she jilted him. I detest those +breach-of-promise suits; they"-- + +Mr. Denner bounded from his seat. "My dear boy, my dear sir," he gasped, +"not at all, not at all! You do not apprehend me, Gifford. My friend is +in love, sir; he wished my advice, not legally, you understand, but in +regard to his choice!" + +"Your advice!" Gifford burst out, but instantly apologized by saying he +believed it was not usual to ask advice in such matters,--a man usually +knew. But perhaps he was mistaken. + +"Yes--I am inclined to think you are," responded Mr. Denner, with a +jauntiness which sat strangely upon his wrinkled face,--"I think you are. +Being still a very young person, Gifford, you scarcely understand the +importance of such matters, and the--ah--wisdom of seeking advice. I +believe it is always said that youth does not realize the importance of +advice. But the fact is, my friend has placed his affections upon two +ladies. They are connections, and both he represents to be estimable +persons; both, as I understand it, equally admirable. Equally, you +observe, Gifford. And he is unable to make up his mind which is the +most--I should say the more--desirable. I, unfortunately, was unable +to throw any light upon the subject." + +"Do you know the young ladies?" asked Gifford. + +"I--I may say I have met them," admitted Mr. Denner. + +"And how did you advise him?" Gifford asked, his face preternaturally +grave. + +Mr. Denner looked anxious. "That is just it. I have been unable to come +to any conclusion. I wondered if--if I spoke of their characteristics in +a general way (they are both so truly estimable) you might have an +opinion. He did think he could reach a decision, he tells me, for a +friend of his thought he knew a proverb which would throw a light upon +it." + +"Settle it by a proverb!" cried Gifford. + +"Yes," answered Mr. Denner firmly, "yes; and an excellent way it would +be, if one could find the proverb." + +The air of offended dignity in Mr. Denner's face sobered Gifford at once. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," he said; "the method was new to me, though it +is, no doubt, excellent. May I ask the proverb?" + +But the lawyer was hurt. "It is not worth while to mention it. It was +not--not suitable. It did not enable my friend to reach a decision, after +all; it was merely something in regard to whist." + +Gifford hid his face in the grass for a moment, and then he said again, +"I--I beg your pardon, Mr. Denner; it struck me as an unusual way of +settling a love affair. Your friend must have been much disappointed?" + +"He was, he was, sir," answered Mr. Denner, not knowing whether to be +angry or injured, and picking up his reel and rod with trembling hands. + +"Well, now," Gifford said, sitting up and leaning his arms upon his +knees, the laughter still glimmering in his gray eyes, "I could give you +a proverb,--unless they are twins?" + +Mr. Denner sat down again on the stone bench, and looked at him eagerly. + +"No, Gifford, they are not twins,--no. There is a good ten years between +them." + +"Then," said the young man, "what does your friend want better than 'Age +before beauty'? Let him propose to the elder." + +Mr. Denner laid his rod down upon the grass, and, rising, extended his +hand to his companion. + +"Gifford," he said, "you are an intelligent young man,--a remarkable +young man, sir. I knew it when I determined to ask your advice--for my +friend. I thank you. My--my friend thanks you, Gifford. He will act upon +this at once; he is forever indebted to you, sir." + +It was all so solemn that Gifford's gravity lasted until the little +gentleman had disappeared through the hedge, and was far down the road; +then he hid his face in the grass, and laughed aloud. + +But Mr. Denner was happy. He fairly beamed as he walked along, +repeating the proverb to himself. "Yes," he said, "nothing could be +better--nothing. How strange that it has not occurred to me before, or +that Henry should not have thought of it! 'Age before beauty!' Yes, just +so,--just so!" + +While he was meditating thus happily, he heard behind him that curious, +irregular beat which only the hoofs of a runaway horse can make, and the +whirl of flying wheels swinging from side to side. He sprang to one side +of the road, his little heart pounding with sudden fright, and looked +back to see the rectory phaeton, reeling and almost overturning, dragged +madly at the heels of the shaggy little pony. They came flying toward +him. Mr. Denner caught a glimpse, through the cloud of dust, of Lois +Howe's white face, and a shrinking figure clinging to her. A gray veil +fluttered across the face, so that Mr. Denner could not tell who it was, +but instantly it flashed through his mind, "It is one of them!" He threw +down his basket and rod, and braced himself for the shock of the +encounter with the plunging horse; his little nerves, never very firm, +were strung like steel. Somehow, in that instant of waiting, the proverb +was forgotten; he felt that fate would decide for him. "It shall be this +one!" he said aloud,--"this one!" Then the horse seemed upon him; he did +not know when he made that jump at the bridle, or felt the iron hoof +strike his breast; he had only a confused sense of seeing the gray figure +thrown out upon the ground just as he found himself falling backwards. +Then he lost consciousness. + +When he came to himself, and saw the trees and bushes dance strangely +about him for a moment, he found that he had been lifted over to the +grass at the roadside, and that Gifford Woodhouse's arm was under his +head. As his eyes grew steady, he saw that two men were holding the +trembling, steaming horse, and that a little group of people were +standing about the phaeton; but the gray figure had disappeared. +Gifford was fanning him, and pressing something to his lips with a +gentle, anxious hand. + +"Gifford," he said faintly--"ah--which?" + +"They are neither of them hurt, thank God," answered the young man +reverently, "but they owe their lives to you, Mr. Denner." + +"Yes--but"--he struggled to say--"which--which was it?" + +"He means who was it," said the rector, who had taken his place on +the other side of the injured man. "It was my daughter--God bless you, +Denner!--and Mrs. Forsythe." + +Mr. Denner groaned, and shut his eyes. "Oh, it wasn't either," he +murmured; "that's always the way!" + +"His mind is wandering," Gifford said, in a low voice. "I'm afraid this +is very serious, doctor. Do you think he can be moved now?" + +The lawyer did not try to prove his sanity; he only groaned again, but +this time it was partly from pain. They lifted him gently, and carried +him into his own house, which he had nearly reached when the runaway +overtook him. + +Both the women in the carriage had been thrown out, but Lois was able to +walk, and so far as could be ascertained Mrs. Forsythe was unhurt, save +for the shock, which sent her from one fainting fit into another until +late that night. They had carried her back to the rectory, Lois clinging +to one limp hand, and crying hysterically. + +"Oh, she will die," she sobbed, "I know she will die; and it is my fault, +it is my carelessness! You needn't say it isn't, father. I know it is! +Oh, what shall I do!" + +But there was nothing to do; and Mrs. Dale, who had been hastily +summoned,--for her reputation for nursing was even wider than Miss +Deborah's for housekeeping,--only put her to bed, "to get her out of the +way," she said, but really because she was filled with sympathy for her +niece's remorse, and felt that the forgetfulness of sleep was the only +comfort for her. + +"I'll tell you what it is, brother," she said,--she had quietly settled +herself in authority at the rectory, despite Jean's air of contemptuous +dignity--"I believe Arabella Forsythe will have a chance to die, at last. +She's been looking for it these ten years, and as soon as she stops +fainting it will be a positive satisfaction to her. I'm afraid she is +really a very sick woman." + +But no such thought did she impart to Lois, when she tucked her up in +bed, giving her a hearty kiss with her soothing draught, and bidding her +have some sense and stop crying, for Mrs. Forsythe would be all right in +the morning. But the morning brought no comfort; the doctor, who had come +from Mercer as quickly as Mrs. Dale's horses could bring him, was very +grave. + +"The shock to the nervous system," he said,--"we cannot tell what it will +do." + +Lois was so prostrated by grief at Mrs. Forsythe's condition, no one +dared tell her that Mr. Denner was the immediate anxiety. There was an +injury to the spine, and the plunging hoofs had done more harm than was +at first supposed; things looked very serious for the little gentleman. + +The lawyer had fainted when he was lifted over his gloomy threshold, +where Mary stood waiting and wringing her hands, and had struggled back +to consciousness to find himself on the big, slippery horse-hair sofa, in +his dusky library. Dr. Howe was standing at his side, looking anxiously +down at him, and a neighbor was trying to slip a pillow under his head. +Gifford had gone to help Mary bring a bed down-stairs, for the slightest +movement caused Mr. Denner pain, and they dared not lift him, even to +take him up to his bedroom. + +"What is the matter?" Mr. Denner tried to say. "I seem to be giving +trouble. Ah--pray do not mind me, doctor." + +"You were hurt, you know, Denner," said the rector, whose feet were +planted wide apart, and his hands thrust down in his pockets, and who +felt oppressed by the consciousness of his own superabundant vitality, +for the lawyer looked so small and thin, and his voice was hardly more +than a whisper. "You've been a little faint. You'll be all right soon. +But Giff's going to put a bed up in here for you, because you might find +it uncomfortable to try to get up-stairs, you know." + +Mr. Denner looked anxious at this; he wondered if Mary would not be +offended; but he was too strangely weary to talk, and his little +twinkling eyes were dim and blurred. + +Gifford and Mary had carried down the four big posts of Mr. Denner's bed, +which looked like mahogany obelisks, and began to put it together, with +many interruptions for Mary to wipe her eyes on the corner of her gingham +apron, and remark it would soon be over, and she did not know where she +would ever get such another place. Once the rector turned and sharply +bade her hold her tongue. Mr. Denner opened his eyes at that, though he +had scarcely seemed to hear her. Nor did he know why Gifford and the +rector talked so long with the doctor on the broad flat stone at the +front door, in the fragrant spring twilight. Afterwards he beckoned +Gifford to him. + +He did not quite like, he said, to leave his rod out over night; he could +go and get it in the morning, he knew, but if it wouldn't be too much +trouble, he would be obliged if Gifford would bring it in. And there were +two trout in the basket: perhaps he would be good enough to present them, +with his compliments, to the Misses Woodhouse. Gifford went for the rod, +but could not go back without an inquiry at the rectory. + +"Arabella Forsythe," said Mrs. Dale,--"well, as I told brother, I think +this is her opportunity. She really is in a bad way, Giff. Lois wasn't +hurt at all, wonderful to say; but, naturally, she's in great distress, +because she blames herself for the whole thing." + +"How so?" asked Gifford. + +"Well, of course," Mrs. Dale answered, rubbing her little red nose with +her handkerchief, and with a suspicious mist in her eyes,--"of course it +really was her fault, only we mustn't let her know we think so. You see, +she was driving. (I've always said women don't know how to drive; they're +too inconsequent.) She wasn't paying attention to her horse, and let a +rein slip. Before she could pick it up, the horse shied at a newspaper +blowing along the road. Well, you know the rest. But Lois does not know +that we think it was her carelessness." + +Gifford hesitated a moment, and then said slowly, "But wouldn't it be +better to help her face the truth of it now? There is no use to try to +escape self-reproaches that have their root in facts." + +"Nonsense!" responded Mrs. Dale sharply. "I thought you had more +sympathy!" + +Gifford had told his aunts of the accident, when he brought them the +offering of the two small fishes, and the ladies were full of distress +and anxiety, and the flutter of excited interest which would be sure to +be felt in a place like Ashurst. They had gone at once to the rectory, to +see if they could be of use, though, as Miss Deborah said to her sister, +"with Adele Dale there, of course there is nothing more to be desired." +Nevertheless, the next morning, Miss Ruth ran over with a bowl of wine +jelly from Miss Deborah, and brought back word that Mrs. Forsythe was +"still breathing;" and that the gravest apprehensions were felt for Mr. +Denner. + +Miss Deborah was waiting in the parlor to hear the news; so important an +occasion seemed to demand the dignity of the parlor, and in a high-backed +armchair, with her feet on a cricket and a fresh handkerchief in her +hand, she listened to Miss Ruth's agitated and tearful story. + +"I will make some whips for William Denner," she said promptly, as Miss +Ruth finished, "and we will take them to him this afternoon." + +"Well, but, sister," said Miss Ruth, hesitating, "do you think--we'd +better? Ought not we to let Giff take them?" + +"Why?" asked Miss Deborah. "He is able to see us, isn't he?" + +"It is not quite that," answered the younger sister nervously, taking +off her bonnet, and beginning to roll the strings tight and smooth +between her fingers, "but--he is in--his chamber, sister. Would it be +quite--proper?" + +"I think," said Miss Deborah, holding her head very straight, "we are old +enough to"-- + +"You may be," returned Miss Ruth firmly, "but I am not." + +Miss Deborah was silent for a moment; then she said, "Well, perhaps you +are right, dear Ruth; though he is certainly very ill, and didn't you say +he was in the library?" + +"Yes," said Miss Ruth, "he is very ill, but the fact of his couch being +in the library does not alter it. If anything sad should be going to +happen,--it would be different, then." + +"Of course," assented Miss Deborah. + +"You see," Miss Ruth explained, "if we saw him, and then he got well, it +would be very awkward." + +"True," said Miss Deborah. "And certainly single women cannot be too +delicate in such matters. We will send the whips by Giff. Poor, poor +William Denner! Let me see,--were you to be his partner on Saturday? Oh, +no, I recollect: it was I,--it was my turn." + +"I think not," Miss Ruth replied gently; "you played last week. I should +have played with him this time." + +"Not at all," said Miss Deborah firmly, "he was mine." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The suspense was very hard for Lois Howe to bear. + +When Mrs. Dale drove her from the sick-room for air and exercise, she +wandered restlessly about the rectory, or went to Mr. Denner's door +to beg a word of encouragement from Mary, or take a momentary comfort +from the messages he sent her that he was better, and he begged she +would not allow herself the slightest discomfort; it was really of no +consequence,--no consequence at all. + +Gifford was almost always with the little gentleman, and scarcely left +him, even to walk through the garden to the grassy street with Lois. On +Sunday, however, late in the afternoon, he went home with her; for Mr. +Dale, with whom she had come, was going to sit awhile with Mr. Denner, +and Gifford felt he could be spared. + +The hour was full of that peculiar Sunday afternoon quiet which seems to +subdue even the crickets and the birds. There was a breath of fragrance +from some fresh-cut grass, still wet from a noon thunder shower, which +had left the air crystal-clear and fresh. Their shadows stretched far +ahead along the road, where the dust was still damp, though the setting +sun poured a flood of yellow light behind them. Lois walked as though +very tired; she scarcely noticed her companion, and did not speak except +to answer his questions. + +"Isn't there any change in Mrs. Forsythe?" he asked, with anxious +sympathy. + +Lois shook her head. "No," she said. + +"Hasn't the rector gotten word to her son yet?" + +"No," Lois said again. "We telegraphed twice, but he seems to be out of +town, and nobody knows his address." + +Gifford made no comment. + +"I wish he would come!" the girl cried passionately. "It would be a +relief to have him reproach me." + +"I hope there will be no need of reproaches. I do hope his mother will +get well." + +"Oh, no, no," Lois said, "she won't! I know it." + +"Try to be more hopeful," he urged. "The doctor said there was absolutely +no injury except the shock. I believe she will get well, Lois." + +"Oh, you don't know her," Lois answered. "You don't know how frail she +is. And then there's Mr. Denner! It is the responsibility of it that +kills me, Giff! I cannot get away from it for one single minute." + +They had walked along the road where the accident had taken place, and +Lois shivered as she saw the trampled grass, though it had been her wish +that they should come this way. + +"Oh," she said, putting her hands over her eyes, "life can never look the +same to me, even if they get well!" + +"No," Gifford said, "I understand that. But it may have a new sweetness +of gratitude, Lois." + +When they came to the gap in the hedge which was the outlet for the +rectory path, Gifford held aside the twigs for her to enter. + +"Let us sit down on the stone bench a little while," he said. "This is +where poor little Mr. Denner sat that afternoon. Oh," he added in a lower +tone, "just think from what a grief he may have saved us! I feel as +though I could never be able to show him my gratitude." Then he looked at +the transplanted bunch of violets, which was fresh and flourishing, and +was silent. + +Lois sat down a little reluctantly. The memory of that June night, nearly +a year ago, flashed into her mind; she felt the color creep up to her +forehead. "Oh," she thought, "how contemptible I am to have any thought +but grief,--how shallow I am, how cruel!" + +And to punish herself for this, she rushed into speaking of her +responsibility again. + +Gifford noticed her nervousness. "She is afraid of me," he said to +himself. "She wouldn't be, if she cared." + +"You see, Gifford," she began, "I keep saying to myself every moment, +'I did it--it was my carelessness--all, all my fault.' Father tried to +comfort me, and so did Mrs. Forsythe as soon as she could speak, and Mr. +Denner has sent word that I must not give him a thought (dear Mr. +Denner!), but oh, I know!" + +Gifford looked at her pale face, with the sweet trembling lip. "It is +awfully hard for you," he said. + +"Every one said I was not to blame," she went on unsteadily, "that it +was not my fault; but, Gifford, if they die, I shall have been their +murderer!" + +She pressed her hands tight together to keep her self-control. + +"No, Lois," he answered gently, "it is not right to feel that; your will +would be to die now for either of them" ("Oh, yes, yes!" she said), "so +don't blame yourself any more than you must." + +"Than I must?" she repeated slowly, looking at him with questioning eyes. +"How do you mean? They say there is no blame, Gifford." + +He did not answer; his face was full of a grieved reluctance. + +"Why," she said, with a quick breath, "do you blame me?" + +Gifford put his strong, steady hand impulsively over hers. "I only know +how you must blame yourself," he said pitifully. "I wish I could bear the +pain of it for you." + +"Then you say it is my fault?" she asked slowly. + +"Yes, Lois," he answered, looking down at her with anxious tenderness. +"I wish I didn't have to say it, but if it is true, if you were careless, +it's best to meet it. I--I wish you would let me help you bear it." + +Lois sat up very straight, as though bracing herself against a blow. "You +are right. I knew it was all my fault; I said so. But there's no help. +Let us go home now, please." + +Gifford rose silently, and they went together between the sweet-smelling +borders, up to the rectory. "I wish I could help you," he said wistfully, +as she turned to say good-night at the foot of the steps. + +"You cannot," she answered briefly. "No one can; and there's nothing I +can do to make up for it. I cannot even die as an atonement. Oh, if I +could only die!" + +Gifford walked back, distressed and shocked; he was not old enough yet to +know that the desire of death is part of youth, and it seemed as though +he too had incurred a great responsibility. "What a brute I was to say +it!" he said to himself. "I feel as though I had struck a woman. And it +made her wish she was dead,--good heavens! How cruel I was! Yet if it was +true, it must have been right to tell her; I suppose it was my brutal +way!" + +Lois went at once to Mrs. Forsythe's bedside, eager to hear of some +improvement, but the invalid only shook her head wearily. + +"No, no better," she said; "still breathing, that's all. But you must not +grieve; it only distresses me." + +Lois knelt down, and softly kissed her hand. + +"My only trouble," Mrs. Forsythe continued, "is about my boy. Who will +take care of him when I am gone?" + +She said much more than this, and perhaps even Gifford's persistent +justice could not have sustained the conviction that he had done right to +tell Lois that the blame of the accident rested upon her, if he had known +the thoughts of a possible atonement which passed through her mind when +Mrs. Forsythe spoke thus of her son. It was not the first time since her +injury that she had told Lois of her anxiety for Dick's future, and now +the girl left her with a dazed and aching heart. + +Mrs. Dale, full of importance and authority, met her in the hall. + +"I've got some beef-tea for Arabella Forsythe," she said, balancing the +tray she carried on one hand, and lifting the white napkin with the other +to see that it was all right, "if I can only persuade her to take it. I +never saw anybody who needed so much coaxing. But there! I must not be +hard on her; she is pretty sick, I must say,--and how she does enjoy it! +I said she would. But really, Lois, if we don't have some word from that +young man soon, I don't know what we shall do, for she is certainly worse +to-night. Your father has just had a letter from somebody, saying that he +went away with some friends on a pleasure trip, and didn't leave his +address. I thought he was so anxious to get to Ashurst,--well, that +is Arabella's story. I shouldn't wonder if he didn't see his mother +alive,--that's all I've got to say!" + +She nodded her sleek head, and disappeared into the sick-room. Lois had a +sudden contraction of the heart that made her lips white. "If aunt Deely +says Mrs. Forsythe is worse, it is surely very bad." + +She stumbled blindly up-stairs; she wanted to get away from everybody, +and look this horrible fact in the face. She found her way to the garret, +whose low, wide window, full of little panes of heavy greenish glass, +looked over the tree-tops towards the western sky, still faintly yellow +with sunset light, and barred by long films of gray cloud. She knelt down +and laid her cheek against the sill, which was notched and whittled by +childish hands; for this had been a play-room once, and many a rainy +afternoon she and Helen and Gifford had spent here, masquerading in the +queer dresses and bonnets packed away in the green chests ranged against +the wall, or swinging madly in the little swing which hung from the bare +rafters, until the bunches of southernwood and sweet-marjoram and the +festoons of dried apples shook on their nails. She looked at the stars +and hearts carved on the sill, and a big "Gifford" hacked into the wood, +and she followed the letters absently with her finger. + +"He blames me," she said to herself; "he sees the truth of it. How shall +I make up for it? What can I do?" + +She stayed by the window until the clouds turned black in the west; down +in the heavy darkness of the garden the crickets began their monotonous +z-z-ing, and in the locust-trees the katydids answered each other with a +sharp, shrill cry. Then she crept down-stairs and sat outside of Mrs. +Forsythe's room, that she might hear the slightest sound, or note the +flicker of the night-lamp burning dimly on the stand at the bedside. + +Gifford, sitting in another sick-room, was suffering with her, and +blaming himself, in spite of principle. + +Mr. Denner lay in his big bed in the middle of the library. The blinds +were drawn up to the tops of the long, narrow windows, that the last +gleam of light might enter, but the room was full of shadows, save where +a taper flickered on a small table which held the medicines. + +"I think," said Mr. Denner, folding his little hands upon his breast,--"I +think, Gifford, that the doctor was not quite frank with me, to-day. I +thought it proper to ask him if my injury was at all of a serious nature, +if it might have--ah--I ought to apologize for speaking of unpleasant +things--if it might have an untoward ending. He merely remarked that all +injuries had possibilities of seriousness in them; he appeared in haste, +and anxious to get away, so I did not detain him, thinking he might have +an important case elsewhere. But it seemed as though he was not quite +frank, Gifford; as though, in fact, he evaded. I did not press it, +fearing to embarrass him, but I think he evaded." + +Gifford also evaded. "He did not say anything which seemed evasive to me, +Mr. Denner. He was busy charging me to remember your medicines, and he +stopped to say a word about your bravery, too." + +Mr. Denner shook his head deprecatingly at this, but he seemed pleased. +"Oh, not at all, it was nothing,--it was of no consequence." One of the +shutters blew softly to, and darkened the room; Gifford rose, and, +leaning from the window, fastened it back against the ivy which had +twisted about the hinge from the stained bricks of the wall. "I cannot +claim any bravery," the sick man went on. "No. It was, as it were, +accidental, Gifford." + +"Accidental?" said the young man. "How could that be? I heard the horse, +and ran down the road after the phaeton just in time to see you make that +jump, and save her." + +Mr. Denner sighed. "No," he replied, "no, it was quite by chance. +I--I was mistaken. I am glad I did not know, however, for I might have +hesitated. As it was, laboring under a misapprehension, I had no time to +be afraid." + +"I don't think I quite understand," said Gifford. + +Mr. Denner was silent. The room was so dark now, he could scarcely +see the young man's face as he stood leaning against one of the huge +bed-posts. Behind him, Mr. Denner just distinguished his big secretary, +with its pigeon-holes neatly labeled, and with papers filed in an orderly +way. No one had closed it since the afternoon that he had been carried in +and laid on the horse-hair sofa. He had given Mary the key then, and had +asked her to fetch the bottle of brandy from one of the long divisions +where it stood beside a big ledger. The little gentleman had hesitated to +give trouble in asking to have it locked again, though that it should be +open offended his ideas of privacy. Now he looked at it, and then let his +eyes rest upon the nephew of the Misses Woodhouse. + +"Gifford," he said, "would you be so obliging as to take the small brass +key from my ring,"--here he thrust his lean hand under his pillow, and +produced his bunch of keys, which jingled as he held them unsteadily +out,--"and unlock the little lower drawer in the left-hand side of my +writing-desk?" + +Gifford took the ring over to the candle, which made the shadow of his +head loom up on the opposite wall, as he bent to find the little brass +key among a dozen others of all shapes and sizes. + +"I have unlocked it, sir," he said, a moment later. + +"Take the candle, if you please," responded Mr. Denner, "and you will +see, I think, in the right-hand corner, back, under a small roll, a flat, +square parcel." + +"Yes, sir," Gifford answered, holding the candle in his left hand, and +carefully lifting the parcel. + +"Under that," proceeded Mr. Denner, "is an oval package. If you will be +good enough to hand me that, Gifford. Stay,--will you lock the drawer +first, if you please, and the desk?" + +Gifford did so, and then put the package into Mr. Denner's hands. He held +it a moment before he gently removed the soft, worn tissue paper in which +it was wrapped; his very touch was a caress. + +"I was desirous," he said, "of having this by me. It is a miniature of my +little sister, sir. She--perhaps you scarcely remember her? She died when +I was twenty. That is forty-one years ago. A long time, Gifford, a long +time to have missed her. She is the only thing of--of that nature that I +have loved--since I was twenty." + +He stopped, and held the miniature up to look at it; but the light had +faded, and the ivory only gleamed faintly. + +"I look at this every day when I am in health, and I like it by me now. +No, not the candle, I thank you, Gifford. I called for it now (how +tarnished these pearls are in the frame! If--if I should not recover, it +must be reset. Perhaps you will see to that for me, Gifford?),--I called +for it now, because I wished to say, in the event of my--demise, I should +wish this given to one of your aunts, sir." + +Gifford came out from the shadow at the foot of the bed, and took Mr. +Denner's hand. He did not speak; he had only the man's way of showing +sympathy, and one weaker than Gifford could not have resisted the piteous +longing for life in Mr. Denner's tone, and would have hastened to +reassure him. But Gifford only held his hand in a firm, gentle grasp, +and was silent. + +"I should wish one of them to have it," he continued. "I have not +provided for its welfare in my will; I had thought there was no one for +whom I had enough--enough regard, to intrust them with it. I even thought +to destroy it when I became old. Some people might wish to carry it with +them to the grave, but I could not--oh, no, not my little sister! See, +Gifford--take it to the light--not that little merry face. I should like +to think it was with your aunts. And--and there is, as it were, a certain +propriety in sending it to--her." + +Gifford took the miniature from the lawyer's hand, and, kneeling by the +candle, looked at it. The faded velvet case held only the rosy, happy +face of a little child; not very pretty, perhaps, but with eyes which +had smiled into Mr. Denner's for forty years, and Gifford held it in +reverent hands. + +"Yes," said the old man, "I would like one of them to have it." + +"I shall remember it, sir," Gifford answered, putting the case down on +the lawyer's pillow. + +The room was quite still for a few moments, and then Mr. Denner said, +"Gifford, it was quite accidental, quite by mistake, as it were, that I +stopped the horse for Mrs. Forsythe and little Lois. I--I thought, sir, +it was one of your aunts. One of your aunts, do you understand Gifford? +You know what I said to you, at the stone bench, that afternoon? I--I +alluded to myself, sir." + +Gifford was silent, almost breathless; it all came back to him,--the +warm, still afternoon, the sunshine, the faintly rustling leaves of the +big silver poplar, and Mr. Denner's friend's love story. But only the +pathos and the tenderness of it showed themselves to him now. He put his +hand up to his eyes, a moment; somehow, he felt as though this was +something too sacred for him to see. + +"I know, sir," he said; "I--I see." + +"I trust," Mr. Denner continued, in a relieved voice, "there is no +impropriety in mentioning this to you, though you are still a youth. You +have seemed older these last few days, more--ah--sedate, if I may so +express it. They--they frequently speak as though you were quite a youth, +whereas it appears to me you should be considered the head of the +family,--yes, the head of the family. And therefore it seemed to me +fitting that I should mention this to you, because I wished to request +you to dispose of the miniature. It would have been scarcely proper to do +otherwise, scarcely honorable, sir." + +"I am grateful to you for doing so," Gifford replied gently. "I beg you +will believe how entirely I appreciate the honor of your confidence." + +"Oh, not at all," said Mr. Denner, waving his hand, "not at all,--pray do +not mention it. And you will give it to one of them," he added, peering +through the dusk at the young man, "if--if it should be necessary?" + +"Yes, sir," he answered, "I will; but you did not mention which one, Mr. +Denner." + +Mr. Denner was silent; he turned his head wearily toward the faint +glimmer which showed where the window was, and Gifford heard him sigh. "I +did not mention which,--no. I had not quite decided. Perhaps you can tell +me which you think would like it best?" + +"I am sure your choice would seem of most value to them." + +Mr. Denner did not speak; he was thinking how he had hoped that leap at +the runaway horse would have decided it all. And then his mind traveled +back to the stone bench, and his talk with Gifford, and the proverb. +"Gifford," he said firmly, "give it, if you please, to Miss Deborah." + +They did not speak of it further. Gifford was already reproaching himself +for having let his patient talk too much, and Mr. Denner, his mind at +last at rest, was ready to fall asleep, the miniature clasped in his +feverish hand. + +The next day, Gifford had no good news to carry to the rectory. The +lawyer had had a bad night, and was certainly weaker, and sometimes he +seemed a little confused when he spoke. Gifford shrank from telling Lois +this, and yet he longed to see her, but she did not appear. + +She was with Mrs. Forsythe, her aunt said; and when he asked for the +invalid, Mrs. Dale shook her head. "I asked her how she felt this +morning, and she said, 'Still breathing!' But she certainly is pretty +sick, though she's one to make herself out at the point of death if she +scratches her finger. Still--I don't know. I call her a sick woman." + +Mrs. Dale could not easily resign the sense of importance which attends +the care of a very sick person, even though Arabella Forsythe's appetite +had unquestionably improved. + +"We've telegraphed again for her son," she went on, "though I must say +she does not seem to take his absence much to heart. They are the sort of +people, I think, that love each other better at a distance. Now, if I +were in her place, I'd be perfectly miserable without my children. I +don't know what to think of his not writing to her. It appears that he's +on a pleasure party of some kind, and he's not written her a line since +he started; so of course she does not know where he is." + +But to Lois Mrs. Forsythe's illness was something beside interest and +occupation. The horror of her possible death hung over the young girl, +and seemed to sap her youth and vigor. Her face was drawn and haggard, +and her pleasant gray eyes had lost their smile. Somehow Mr. Denner's +danger, which to some extent she realized, did not impress her so deeply; +perhaps because that was, in a manner, the result of his own will, and +perhaps, too, because no one quite knew how much the little gentleman +suffered and how near death he was. + +Lois had heard Gifford's voice as she went into the sick-room, and his +words of blame rung again in her ears. They emphasized Mrs. Forsythe's +despair about her son's future. She spoke to Lois as though she knew +there was no possible chance of her recovery. + +"You see, my dear," she said, in her soft, complaining voice, which +sometimes dropped to a whisper, "he has no aunts or uncles to look after +him when I am gone; no one to be good to him and help him to be good. Not +that he is wild or foolish, Lois, like some young men, but he's full of +spirit, and he needs a good home. Oh, what will he do without me. He has +no one to take care of him!" + +Lois was too crushed by misery to feel even a gleam of humor, when the +thought flashed through her mind that she might offer to take his +mother's place; but she knew enough not to express it. + +"Oh," Mrs. Forsythe continued, "if he were only married to some sweet +girl that I knew and loved how happy I should be, how content!" + +"I--I wish he were," Lois said. + +"My death will be so hard for him, and who will comfort him! I am sorry +I distress you by speaking so, but, my dear child, on your death-bed you +look facts in the face. I cannot help knowing his sorrow, and it makes me +so wretched. My boy,--my poor boy! If I could only feel easy about him! +If I thought, oh, if I could just think, you cared for him! I know I +ought not to speak of it, but--it is all I want to make me happy. I might +have had a little more of life, a few months, perhaps, if it had not been +for the accident. There, there, you mustn't be distressed; but if I could +know you cared for him, it would be worth dying for, Lois." + +"I do care for him!" Lois sobbed. "We all do!" + +Mrs. Forsythe shook her head. "You are the only one I want; if you told +me you would love him, I should be happy, so happy! Perhaps you don't +like to say it. But listen: I know all about last fall, and how you sent +the poor fellow away broken-hearted; but I couldn't stop loving you, for +all that, and I was so glad when he told me he was going to try again; +and that is what he is coming down to Ashurst for. Yes, he is coming to +ask you. You see, I know all his secrets; he tells me everything,--such +a good boy, he is. But I've told you, because I cannot die, oh, I cannot +die, unless I know how it will be for him. If you could say yes, Lois, +if you could!" + +Her voice had faltered again, and the pallor of weariness which spread +grayly over her face frightened Lois. She shivered, and wrung her hands +sharply together. + +"Oh," she said, "I would do anything in the world for you--but--but"-- + +"But this is all I want," interrupted the other eagerly. "Promise this, +and I am content to die. When he asks you--oh, my dear, my dear, promise +me to say yes!" + +Lois had hidden her face in the pillow. "It was all my fault," she was +saying to herself; "it is the only atonement I can make." + +"I will do anything you want me to," she said at last. + +Mrs. Forsythe, laid her shaking hand on the girl's bowed head. "Oh, look +at me! You give me life when you say that. Will you promise to say yes, +Lois?" + +She lifted her head, but she would not look into Mrs. Forsythe's eyes. + +"Yes," she answered, twisting her fingers nervously together. "I promise +if--if he wants me." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear!" Mrs. Forsythe said, and then, to Lois's horror, +she burst into tears. She tried to say it was joy, and Lois must not be +frightened, but the young girl fled for Mrs. Dale, and then ran up to the +garret, and locked the door. + +She went over to the western window and threw herself upon the floor, her +face hidden in her arms. + +"He made me do it," she said between her sobs; "he said it was my fault. +Well, I have made up for it now. I have atoned. I have promised." + +She was too miserable even to take the satisfaction which belongs to +youth, of observing its own wretchedness. She sobbed and cried without +consciousness of tears. At last, for very weariness and exhaustion, she +fell asleep, and was wakened by hearing Mrs. Dale rap sharply at the +door. + +"Come, Lois, come!" she cried. "What's the matter? Dick Forsythe is here. +Do have politeness enough to come down-stairs. I don't know but that his +mother is a shade better, but she has had a chance to die twice over, the +time he's been getting here!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +The news of the anxiety in Ashurst hurried Helen's visit. She might be of +use, she thought, and she had better go now than a week later. + +Perhaps, too, she felt the necessity of calm. She had been forced into a +tumult of discussion and argument, which at last she had begun to meet +with the silence of exhaustion. Elder Dean had come to see her, and she +had received him at first with patience, and given him her reasons for +not believing in hell. There had even been a moment when Helen fancied +that she might convince him of what was so clear and simple to her own +mind. But to each argument of hers he had but one reply,--"The Bible, +ma'am, the Word of God, instructs us" thus or thus,--and he returned +again and again with unwearied obstinacy to his own position. After a +while Helen's annoyance at the man got the better of her judgment, and +she wrote to him, saying she did not wish to argue with him again, and +must beg him not to come to the parsonage to see her. + +Mr. Grier, too, horrified at his wife's reports of what Mrs. Ward had +said, hastened to Lockhaven to reproach and admonish John for permitting +such heresy in his household; for Mr. Grier held with St. Paul that the +husband was head of the wife, even to the extent of regulating her +conscience. John was not at home, so he turned his attack upon the real +offender, assuring her that it was for her soul's sake that he thus dealt +with her. Helen had brought the interview to a sudden close by refusing +to hear further argument, and bowing Mr. Grier from the room, with a +certain steady look from under her level brows and a compression of the +lips which, greatly to his surprise when he thought it over, silenced +him. + +The talks with John could not, of course, be called painful, for they +were with him, but they were futile. + +When the last evening came before she was to leave home, Helen knew, with +a dull pain of helpless remorse, that it was a relief to go; she was glad +that she could not hear Elder Dean's voice for a fortnight, or even know, +she said with a pathetic little laugh to her husband, that she "was +destroying anybody's hope of hell, in the parish." + +"Yes," John answered, "it will be good for you to be away from it all for +a time. It is hard to think clearly, hurried by my impatient anxiety to +have you reach a certain conclusion. I realize that. But I know you will +try to reach it, dearest." + +Helen shook her head wearily. "No, I am afraid I cannot promise that. You +must not hope that I shall ever come to believe in eternal damnation. Of +course I believe that the consequences of sin are eternal; the effect +upon character must be eternal, and I should think that would be hell +enough, sometimes. But I shall never, never believe in it as you do." + +"Oh, Helen," her husband said, "I cannot cease to hope while I have power +to pray." + +Helen sighed. "I wish you could understand how useless it is, dearest, or +how it hurts me, this talk of hell. For people to be good for fear of +hell is like saying 'Honesty is the best policy;' it is degrading. And +it seems selfish to me, somehow, to think so much about one's own +salvation,--it is small, John. The scheme of salvation that the elders +talk so much about really resolves itself into a fear of hell and hope of +heaven, all for the individual soul, and isn't that selfish? But after +all, this question of eternal punishment is such a little thing, so on +the outside of the great puzzle. One goes in, and in: Why is sin, which +is its own punishment, in the world at all? What does it all mean, +anyhow? Where is God, and why does He let us suffer here, with no +certainty of a life hereafter? Why does He make love and death in the +same world? Oh, that is so cruel,--love and death together! Is He, at +all? Those are the things, it seems to me, one has to think about. But +why do I go all over it? We can't get away from it, can we?" + +"Those questions are the outgrowth of unbelief in justice," he said +eagerly; "if you only realized justice and mercy, the rest would be +clear." + +She came over to him, and, kneeling down, put her head on his knee. "Oh, +John, how can I leave you to-morrow?" + +It was true that they could not drop the subject. Hour after hour they +had sat thus, John instructing, proving, reasoning, with always the +tenderest love and patience in his voice. Helen listening with a sweet +graciousness, which kept her firm negations from making her husband +hopeless. He had showed her, that Sunday evening after the sermon on +foreign missions, what he felt had been his awful sin: he had deprived +his people of the bread of life for her sake, and, for fear of jarring +the perfect peace of their lives and giving her a moment's unhappiness, +he had shrunk from his duty to her soul. + +At first Helen had been incredulous. She could not realize that her mere +unbelief in any doctrine, especially such a doctrine as this of eternal +punishment, could be a matter of serious importance to her husband. It +needed an effort to treat his argument with respect. "What does it +matter?" she kept saying. "We love each other, so never mind what we +believe. Believe anything you want, darling. I don't care! Only love me, +John. And if my ideas offend your people, let us leave Lockhaven; or I +can keep silence, unless I should have to speak for what seems to me +truth's sake." + +And then John tried to show her how he had wronged his people and been +false to his own vows and that he dared not leave them until he had +rooted out the evil his own neglect had allowed to grow up among them, +and that her mere silence would not reach the root of the evil in her own +soul. And the importance of it! + +"Oh," he cried, once, when they had been talking until late into the +night, "is not your soul's life of importance, Helen? When I see you +going down to eternal death because I have failed in my duty to you, can +I satisfy myself by saying, We love one another? Because I love you, I +cannot be silent. Oh, I have wronged you, I have not loved you enough! +I have been content with the present happiness of my love,--my happiness! +I had no thought of yours." + +So they had gone over and over the subject, until to Helen it seemed +threadbare, and they sat now in the dusky library, with long stretches of +silence between their words. + +Alfaretta brought in the lamps. In view of Mrs. Ward's departure for +a fortnight, her father, still with an eye to wages, deferred giving +notice. "Besides," he thought, "Mrs. Ward may be convicted and converted +after she's been dealt with." + +Helen had risen, and was writing some instructions for her maid: just +what was to be cooked for the preacher, and what precautions taken for +his comfort. As she put her pen down, she turned to look at her husband. +He was sitting, leaning forward, with his head bowed upon his hand, and +his eyes covered. + +"Helen," he said, in a low, repressed voice, "once more, just once more, +let me entreat you; and then we will not speak of this before you go." + +She sighed. "Yes, dearest, say anything you want." + +There was a moment's silence, and then John rose, and stood looking down +at her. "I have such a horror of your going away. I do not understand it; +it is more than the grief and loneliness of being without you for a few +days. It is vague and indefinable, but it is terribly real. Perhaps it is +the feeling that atonement for my sin towards you is being placed out of +my reach. You will be where I cannot help you, or show you the truth. Yet +you will try to find it! I know you will. But now, just this last night, +I must once more implore you to open your heart to God's Spirit. Ah, my +Helen, I have sinned against Heaven and before you, but my punishment +will be greater than I can bear if I enter heaven without you! Heaven? My +God, it would be hell! The knowledge that my sin had kept you out--yet +even as I speak I sin." + +He was walking up and down the room, his hands knotted in front of him, +and his face filled with hopeless despair. + +"Yes, I sin even in this, for my grief is not that I have sinned against +God in my duty to his people and in forgetting Him, but that I may lose +you heaven, I may make you suffer!" + +Helen came to him, and tried to put her arms about him. "Oh, my dear," +she said, "don't you understand? I have heaven now, in your love. And for +the rest,--oh, John, be content to leave it in Hands not limited by our +poor ideas of justice. If there is a God, and He is good, He will not +send me away from you in eternity; if He is wicked and cruel, as this +theology makes Him, we do not want his heaven! We will go out into outer +darkness together." + +John shuddered. "Lay not this sin to her charge," she heard him say; "she +knows not what she says. Yet I--Oh, Helen, that same thought has come to +me. You seemed to make my heaven,--you; and I was tempted to choose you +and darkness, rather than my God. Sin, sin, sin,--I cannot get away from +it. Yet if I could only save you! But there again I distrust my motive: +not for God's glory, but for my own love's sake, I would save you. My +God, my God, be merciful to me a sinner!" + +In his excitement, he had pushed her arm from his shoulder, and stood in +tense and trembling silence, looking up, as though listening for an +answer to his prayer. + +Helen dared not speak. There is a great gulf fixed between the nearest +and dearest souls when in any spiritual anguish; even love cannot pass +it, and no human tenderness can fathom it. Helen could not enter into +this holiest of holies, where her husband's soul was prostrate before its +Maker. In the solitude of grief and remorse he was alone. + +It was this isolation from him which broke her calm. It seemed profane +even to look upon his suffering. She shrank away from him, and hid her +face in her hands. That roused him, and in a moment the old tenderness +enveloped her. + +He comforted her with silent love, until she ceased to tremble, and +looked again into his tender eyes. + +"What I wanted to say," he said, after a while, when she was leaning +quietly against his breast, "was just to tell you once more the reasons +for believing in this doctrine which so distresses you, dearest. To say, +in a word, if I could, why I lay such stress upon it, instead of some of +the other doctrines of the church. It is because I do believe that +salvation, eternal life, Helen, depends upon holding the doctrine of +reprobation in its truth and entirety. For see, beloved: deny the +eternity of punishment, and the scheme of salvation is futile. Christ +need not have died, a man need not repent, and the whole motive of the +gospel is false; revelation is denied, and we are without God and without +hope. Grant the eternity of punishment, and the beauty and order of the +moral universe burst upon us: man is a sinner, and deserves death, and +justice is satisfied; for, though mercy is offered, it is because Christ +has died. And his atonement is not cheapened by being forced upon men who +do not want it. They must accept it, or be punished." + +Helen looked up into his face with a sad wonder. "Don't you see, dear," +she said, "we cannot reason about it? You take all this from the Bible, +because you believe it is inspired. I do not believe it is. So how can we +argue? If I granted your premises, all that you say would be perfectly +logical. But I do not, John. I cannot. I am so grieved for you, dearest, +because I know how this distresses you; but I must say it. Silence can +never take the place of truth, between us." + +"Oh, it did, too long, too long!" John groaned. "Is there no hope?" and +then he began his restless walk again, Helen watching him with yearning +eyes. + +"I cannot give it up," he said at last. "There must be some way by which +the truth can be made clear to you. Perhaps the Lord will show it to me. +There is no pain too great for me to bear, to find it out; no, even the +anguish of remorse, if it brings you to God! Oh, you shall be saved! Do +the promises of the Eternal fail?" + +He came over to her, and took her hands in his. Their eyes met. This +sacrament of souls was too solemn for words or kisses. When they spoke +again it was of commonplace things. + +It was hard for her to leave the little low-browed house, the next +morning. John stopped to gather a bunch of prairie roses from the bush +which they had trained beneath the study window, and Helen fastened them +in her dress; then, just as they were ready to start, the preacher's wife +ran back to the study, and hurriedly put one of the roses from her bosom +into a vase on the writing-table, and stooped and gave a quick, furtive +kiss to the chair in which John always sat when at work on a sermon. + +They neither of them spoke as they walked to the station, and no one +spoke to them. Helen knew there were shy looks from curtained windows and +peeping from behind doors, for she was a moral curiosity in Lockhaven; +but no one interrupted them. Just before she started, John took her hand, +and held it in a nervous grasp. "Helen," he said hoarsely, "for the sake +of my eternal happiness seek for truth, seek for truth!" + +She only looked at him, with speechless love struggling through the pain +in her eyes. + +The long, slow journey to Ashurst passed like a troubled dream. It was an +effort to adjust her mind to the different life to which she was going. +Late in the afternoon, the train drew up to the depot in Mercer, and +Helen tried to push aside her absorbing thought of John's suffering, that +she might greet her uncle naturally and gladly. The rector stood on the +platform, his stick in one hand and his glasses in the other, and his +ruddy face beaming with pleasure. When he saw her, he opened his arms and +hugged her; it would have seemed to Dr. Howe that he was wanting in +affection had he reserved his demonstrations until they were alone. + +"Bless my soul," he cried, "it is good to see you again, my darling +child. We're all in such distress in Ashurst, you'll do us good. Your +husband couldn't come with you? Sorry for that; we want to see him +oftener. I suppose he was too busy with parish work,--that fire has kept +his hands full. What? There is the carriage,--Graham, here's Miss Helen +back again. Get in, my dear, get in. Now give your old uncle a kiss, and +then we can talk as much as we want." + +Helen kissed him with all her heart; a tremulous sort of happiness stole +over the background of her troubled thoughts, as a gleam of light from a +stormy sunset may flutter upon the darkness of the clouds. + +"Tell me--everything! How is Lois? How are the sick people? How is +Ashurst?" + +Dr. Howe took up a great deal of room, sitting well forward upon the +seat, with his hands clasped on his big stick, which was planted between +his knees, and he had to turn his head to see Helen when he answered her. + +"Mrs. Forsythe is better," he said; "she is certainly going to pull +through, though for the first week all that we heard was that she was +'still breathing.' But Denner is in a bad way; Denner is a very sick +man. Gifford has been with him almost all the time. I don't know what +we should have done without the boy. Lois is all right,--dreadfully +distressed, of course, about the accident; saying it is her fault, +and all that sort of thing. But she wasn't to blame; some fool left +a newspaper to blow along the road and frighten the horse. She needs +you to cheer her up." + +"Poor little Mr. Denner!" Helen exclaimed. "I'm glad Giff is with him. +Has Mr. Forsythe come?" + +"Yes," said the rector; "but they are queer people, those Forsythes. The +young man seems quite annoyed at having been summoned: he remarked to +your aunt that there was nothing the matter with his mother, and she must +be moved to her own house; there was nothing so bad for her as to have a +lot of old women fussing over her. I wish you could have seen Adele's +face! I don't think she admires him as much as she did. But his mother +was moved day before yesterday, and he has a trained nurse for her. Your +aunt Adele feels her occupation gone, and thinks Mrs. Forsythe will die +without her," the rector chuckled. "But she won't,--she'll get well." +Here he gave a heavy sigh, and said, "Poor Denner!" + +"You don't mean Mr. Denner won't get well?" Helen asked anxiously. + +"I'm afraid not," Dr. Howe answered sadly. + +They were silent for a little while, and then Helen said in a hushed +voice, "Does he know it, uncle Archie?" + +"No," said the rector explosively, "he--he doesn't!" + +Dr. Howe was evidently disturbed; he pulled up one of the carriage +windows with some violence, and a few minutes afterwards lowered it with +equal force. "No, he doesn't," he repeated. "The doctor only told me this +morning that there was no hope. Says it is a question of days. He's very +quiet; does not seem to suffer; just lies there, and is polite to people. +He was dreadfully troubled at breaking up the whist party last Saturday; +sent apologies to the other three by Gifford." Dr. Howe tugged at his +gray mustache, and looked absently out of the window. "No, I don't +believe he has an idea that he--he won't get well." The rector had a +strange shrinking from the word "death." + +"I suppose he ought to know," Helen said thoughtfully. + +"That is what the doctor said," answered the rector; "told me he might +want to settle his affairs. But bless my soul, what affairs can Denner +have? He made his will fifteen years ago, and left all he had to Sarah +Denner's boy. I don't see what he has to do." + +"But, uncle," Helen said, "mightn't he have some friends or relatives to +whom he would want to send a message,--or perhaps see? People you never +heard of?" + +"Oh, no, no," responded Dr. Howe. "I've known William Denner, man and +boy, these sixty years. He hasn't any friends I don't know about; he +could not conceal anything, you know; he is as simple and straightforward +as a child. No; Willie Denner'll have his money,--there's not too much of +it,--and that's all there is to consider." + +"But it is not only money," Helen went on slowly: "hasn't he a right to +know of eternity? Not just go out into it blindly?" + +"Perhaps so,--perhaps so," the rector admitted, hiding his evident +emotion with a flourish of his big white silk handkerchief. "You see," he +continued, steadying his cane between his knees, while he took off his +glasses and began to polish them, "the doctor wants me to tell him, +Helen." + +"I suppose so," she said sympathetically. + +"And I suppose I must," the rector went on, "but it is the hardest task +he could set me. I--I don't know how to approach it." + +"It must be very hard." + +"Of course it seems natural to the doctor that I should be the one to +tell him. I'm his pastor, and he's a member of my church--Stay! is he?" +Dr. Howe thrust out his lower lip and wrinkled his forehead, as he +thought. "Yes, oh yes, I remember. We were confirmed at the same time, +when we were boys,--old Bishop White's last confirmation. But he hasn't +been at communion since my day." + +"Why do you think that is, uncle Archie?" Helen asked. + +"Why, my dear child, how do I know?" cried the rector. "Had his own +reasons, I suppose. I never asked him. And you see, Helen, that's what +makes it so hard to go and tell Denner that--that he's got to die. +Somehow, we never touched on the serious side of life. I think that's +apt to be the case with friends in our position. We have gone fishing +together since we were out of pinafores, and we have played whist,--at +least I've watched him,--and talked politics or church business over +our pipes; but never anything like this. We were simply the best of +friends. Ah, well, Denner will leave a great vacancy in my life." + +They rode in silence for some time, and then Helen said gently, "Yes, but +uncle, dear, that is the only way you are going to help him now,--with +the old friendship. It is too late for anything else,--any religious aid, +I mean,--when a man comes to look death in the face. The getting ready +for death has gone, and it is death itself, then. And I should think it +would be only the friend's hand and the friend's eyes, just the human +sympathy, which would make it easier. I suppose all one can do is to say, +'Let my friendship go with you through it all,--all this unknown to us +both.'" + +Dr. Howe turned and looked at her sharply; the twilight had fallen, and +the carriage was very dark. "That's a heathenish thing to say, Helen, and +it is not so. The consolations of religion belong to a man in death as +much as in life; they ought not to belong more to death than to life, but +they do, sometimes. It isn't that there is not much to say to Denner. It +is the--the unusualness of it, if I can so express it. We have never +touched on such things, I tell you, old friends as we are; and it is +awkward, you understand." + +They were very quiet for the rest of the long drive. They stopped a +moment at Mr. Denner's gate; the house was dark, except for a dim light +in the library and another in the kitchen, where Mary sat poring over her +usual volume. Gifford came out to say there was no change, and opened the +carriage door to shake hands with Helen. + +"He would have prayers to-night," he said to the rector, still talking in +a hushed voice, as though the spell of the sick-room were on him out +under the stars, in the shadows of the poplar-trees. "He made Willie read +them aloud to Mary, he told me; he said it was proper to observe such +forms in a family, no matter what the conditions might be. Imagine Willie +stumbling through Chronicles, and Mary fast asleep at her end of that big +dark dining-room!" + +Gifford smiled, but the rector was too much distressed to be amused; he +shivered as they drove away. + +"Ah," he said sharply, "how I hate that slam of a carriage door! Makes me +think of but one thing. Yes, I must see him to-morrow. I must tell him +to-morrow." + +The rector settled back in his corner, his face darkening with a grieved +and troubled frown, and they did not speak until they reached the rectory +gate. As it swung heavily back against the group of white lilacs behind +it, shaking out their soft, penetrating fragrance into the night air, +some one sprang towards the carriage, and almost before it stopped stood +on the steps, and rapped with impatient joy at the window. + +It was Lois. She had thrown a filmy white scarf about her head, and had +come out to walk up and down the driveway, and listen for the sound of +wheels. She had not wanted to stay in the house, lest Mr. Forsythe might +appear. + +Lois had scarcely seen him since he arrived, though this was not because +of his devotion to his mother. He spent most of his time lounging about +the post-office, and swearing that Ashurst was the dullest, deadest place +on the face of the earth. He had not listened to Lois's self-reproaches, +and insisted that blame must not even be mentioned. He was quite in +earnest, but strangely awkward. Lois, weighed down by the consciousness +of her promise, felt it was her fault, yet dared not try to put him at +his ease, and fled, at the sound of his step, to her refuge in the +garret. She did not feel that her promise to Mrs. Forsythe meant that she +must give opportunity as well as consent. But Dick did not force his +presence upon her, and he was very uncomfortable and _distrait_ when at +the rectory. + +She need not have feared his coming again that evening. He was in the +library of his mother's house, covering many pages of heavy crested +note-paper with his big, boyish writing. Strangely enough, however, for +a young gentleman in love with Miss Lois Howe, he was addressing in terms +of ardent admiration some one called "Lizzie." + +But in the gladness of meeting Helen, Lois almost forgot him. Her arms +around her cousin's neck, and Helen's lips pressed against her wet cheek, +there was nothing left to wish for, except the recovery of the two sick +people. + +"Oh, Helen! Helen! Helen!" she cried hysterically, while Dr. Howe, +flourishing his silk handkerchief, patted them both without +discrimination, and said, "There, my dear, there, there." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +After Helen had gone, John Ward went back to the parsonage, dazed and +stupefied by the exhaustion of the moral conflict which for nearly a +month had strained every fibre of his soul. + +The house seemed dark and empty. His face brightened a moment, as he sat +wearily down at his writing-table and saw the prairie rose in the slender +vase. He leaned his head on his hand, and drew the flower towards him, +touching it with gentle fingers, as though he caressed the bloom of +Helen's cheek. Then he pushed it in front of her picture which stood +always on the same table, and thought vaguely that he would leave it +there until she put a fresh one in its place. + +And so his thoughts came heavily back to the old grief and anxiety. He +went over all the arguments he had used, and saw new points and reasons +which he had neglected to give, and he even drew his pen and paper +towards him, and began to make some notes. He would send them to her; +and, away from him, surely what he should say would have an added force. + +Yet he could not fix his mind upon his subject. He found himself heavily +conscious of the silence of the house; and by and by he rose and went +up-stairs to their bedroom, standing drearily in the centre of the floor, +and looking about at his own loneliness. He lifted a bit of lace upon her +dressing-table, and smoothed it between his fingers, noting the faint +scent of orris which it held. Again that strange, unreasonable fear of +her absence seized him, and he was glad to go out and find some pressing +occupation to forget it. + +When he started (as he had had to do of late), alone, for prayer-meeting, +his mind was dulled by its own pain of anxiety, and he went absently +through the services, saying little, and "opening" the meeting as soon as +he could. After that, he sat with head bent and arms folded, scarcely +hearing what was said. + +Just before he pronounced the benediction, however, Elder Dean rose, and, +stepping with elaborate quiet to the pulpit, handed him a note, and sat +down again, covering his face with a big horny hand, and swinging one +foot nervously. John opened the folded paper, and held it up to one of +the tall lamps beside his desk, for the writing was dim and crabbed, and +the light poor, and then read a call that the Session should meet +immediately after the prayer-meeting. No object for consideration was +named, and the paper was signed by Mr. Dean and another elder. John put +it down, and, noticing that his four elders sat together on one of the +bare settees, omitted the usual request that they should all remain. + +The little congregation gradually dispersed. Then Elder Dean arose, and, +creaking heavily down the aisle, closed and locked the front door, and +put out four of the lamps in the back of the room for economy's sake. +After that he sat down again on the settee beside the three other elders, +and the lecture-room was silent. + +John looked up, and waited for some one to speak, then, suddenly +recalling his duty of moderator, he called the Session to order, and +asked the reason for meeting. + +Mr. Johnson, who was the youngest elder in the church, shuffled his feet +under the bench, coughed slightly, and looked at his colleagues. Mr. Bent +and Mr. Smith kept their eyes upon the ground, and Mr. Dean folded and +unfolded his arms several times. + +"Brethren," said the preacher, "we have asked the blessing of God upon +the deliberations of this Session; it now remains to bring the business +before it." + +Mr. Dean poked Mr. Smith furtively, who replied in a loud whisper, "It is +your place, Brother Dean." + +The elder's face turned a dull mottled red; he felt John's surprised +eyes upon him. Under cover of blowing his nose violently, he rose, and, +shifting from one foot to the other, he glanced imploringly at his +companions. But no one spoke. + +"Brother Ward," he began at last, opening and shutting his mouth until +his upper lip looked like a hooked beak, "this Session has been called +for the consideration of--of the spiritual condition of this church. The +duties of the elders of a church are heavy, and painful--and--and--large. +But they are discharged,--they are always," said Mr. Dean, inflating his +chest, and raising one hand, "discharged! The church expects it, and the +church is not disappointed. Yet it is most terribly painful, +sometimes--most awful, and--unpleasant." + +Here Mr. Dean stopped, and coughed behind his hand. Mr. Johnson crossed +his legs, and glanced back at the door as though calculating his chances +of escape. The other two men did not look up. Elder Dean had no reason to +fear that he had not the attention of the moderator. John was watching +him with burning eyes. + +"Proceed," he said. + +"Well," he continued, "as we always perform our painful, most painful +duties, we are here to-night. We are here to-night, Mr. Moderator, to +consider the spiritual welfare of the church, and of one especial soul +connected with the church. This soul is--is far from grace; it is in a +lost condition; a stranger to God, an alien from the commonwealth of +Israel. But that is not all. No. It is--ah--spreading its own disease of +sin in the vitals of the church. It is not only going down to hell +itself, but it is dragging others along with it. It is to consider the +welfare of that soul, Brother Ward, that this Session has been convened. +It is a very difficult task which is set before us, but we are sustained +by duty,--by duty, sir! We will not have to reproach ourselves for +neglect of an immortal soul. We wish to summon"-- + +"Do you refer," said John Ward, rising, his hands clenched upon the +pulpit rail, his face rigid and his teeth set,--"do you refer to my +wife?" + +The three men on the bench started as though they had received a galvanic +shock. Elder Dean, with his lips parted, looked at his minister in +silence. + +"Answer me," said John Ward. + +"Mr. Moderator," replied the elder in a quavering voice, "if I do refer +to your wife, that is not the way it is to be considered. I refer to a +sin-sick soul. I refer to a--a cause of falling from grace, in this +church. I refer to a poor neglected sinner, who must be saved; yes, sir, +saved. If she happens to be your wife, I--I--am sorry." + +The room was very silent. The flaring lamps shone on the bare, +whitewashed walls and on the shamed faces of the four men; the shadows +in the corners pressed upon the small centre of light. One of the lamps +smoked, and Mr. Bent rose to turn it down, and a deeper gloom settled +upon the group. Mr. Johnson nervously opened a hymn-book, and began to +turn the pages. For a moment the rustle of the paper was the only sound +that broke the quiet. + +John Ward, appalled and angry, humiliated that his most sacred grief was +dragged from his heart to be gazed at and discussed by these men, was yet +silenced by his accusing conscience. + +"There is no need," he said at last, with painful slowness, and breathing +hard, "to bring this matter before the Session. As preacher of this +church, I prefer to deal with that soul according to the wisdom God gives +me. I neither ask nor desire your advice." + +Elder Dean turned to his companions, and raised his hands slightly. Mr. +Smith responded to his look by rising and saying, still gazing fixedly +upon the floor, "This ain't the way, Brother Ward, to consider this +matter. Your wisdom ain't enough, seein' that it has allowed things to +get to this pass. All we desire is to deal with Mrs. Ward for her own +good. Brother Dean speaks of the evil in the church,--ain't it our duty +to check that? It appears, sir, that, preacher of this church or not, +you've allowed her sin of unbelief to remain unreproved, and the +consequence is its spread in the church: that's what we're responsible +for; that's our duty. If you've neglected your duty, we ain't a-goin' to +neglect ours." He wagged his head emphatically, and then sat down. + +John Ward was too entirely without self-consciousness to feel the change +in the tone of these men. Their old sincerely felt admiration and awe of +their preacher was gone. The moment they became his critics, they ceased +to feel his superiority. Disapproval was power, and their freedom from +the trammels of respect made them cruel. But the outcry of John's +conscience made him deaf to smaller things. He sat bending forward, his +hands locked together, and the vein in his forehead standing out like +whip-cord; his lips were white and compressed. + +Mr. Dean got on his feet again, with much less embarrassment in his +manner. Mr. Smith's share in the responsibility was a great relief. + +"It is exactly as Brother Smith says," he said. "If it was just--just +her, we wouldn't, perhaps, meddle, though I ain't sure but what it would +be our duty. But the church,--we have got to protect it. We would wish to +summon her, and see if we can bring her to a realizing sense of her +condition before proceeding to any extreme measure. If she remained in a +hardened state, it would then be our duty to bring charges and proof. And +we should do it, bein' supported by a sense of duty--and by the grace of +God." + +Here Mr. Johnson rose, rather noisily, and Mr. Dean looked at him +impatiently. + +"He'll spoil it all," he muttered, as he sat down between Mr. Smith and +Mr. Bent. + +"I just want to say," said Mr. Johnson, in a quick, high voice, "that I'm +not in sympathy with this meeting." + +John looked at him eagerly. + +"It is my idea that these sort of things never do. The day has passed for +forcing people into believing things,--yes, sir,--and it doesn't do any +good, anyhow. Now, my advice would be, don't disturb things, don't break +up the peace. I'm for peace and quiet and a happy life, before anything +else. Just let's not say anything about it. There's nothing, brethren, +like argument for disturbing a church or a home. I know it; I'm a married +man. And I just advise you to keep quiet. Use your influence in a quiet, +easy way, but nothing else. May be it will come out all right, after +all." + +He sat down again, and Mr. Dean and Mr. Smith began to whisper to him +with evident indignation. + +But the preacher's face was full of doubt and grief. "No," he said at +last, moving his dry lips with a visible effort, "we cannot conquer sin +by hiding it or forgetting it, and I believe that this Session has the +welfare of the church sincerely at heart; but I do not believe the plan +you propose will profit either the church or the soul of whom you speak. +Her absence at present would, at all events, make it necessary to defer +any action. In the mean time, I believe that the Lord will teach me +wisdom, and will grant grace and peace to her whose welfare is the +subject of your prayers. If I reach any conclusion in the matter which +you ought to know, I will communicate with you. If there is no further +motion, this meeting is adjourned." + +The elders rose, and with the exception of Mr. Johnson, retreated in +embarrassed haste. They ducked their heads, and made a guttural noise in +their throats, as though to say good-night; but they were ashamed to +speak to him, though Mr. Bent said as he turned his back on the preacher, +"We'll--ah--pray for her." + +Mr. Johnson stopped to justify his presence, and say again, "Don't notice +it, Mr. Ward. I'd just gently like bring her round some time; keep on +prayin', an' all that, but don't force it. It will only make trouble for +you." + +John hurried away from him, stung to the quick. This, then, was his own +real attitude; this was what his plea of wisdom had meant this last year. +His own deceit loomed up before his soul, and the sky of faith grew +black. One by one, the accusations of the elders repeated themselves to +him, and he made no protest. His assenting conscience left him absolutely +defenseless. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +There was a strange unreality about Helen's wakening, the first morning +in Ashurst. + +The year in Lockhaven seemed to have made as little change as a dream. +Here she was, back in her old room. How familiar everything looked! Her +little white bed; the old cherry-wood dressing-case, with its shining +brass rings and spotless linen cover; the morning sunshine dancing with +the shadows of the leaves, and falling in a golden square upon the floor; +the curtains at the south window blowing softly to and fro in the fresh +wind, and the flutter of wings outside in the climbing roses; even the +bunch of white lilacs on the little table, apparently all just as she had +left them nearly a year ago. Lockhaven and theology were behind her, and +yet in some indefinable way she was a stranger in a strange land. + +The consciousness of a difference had come the night before, when Lois +poured out her fears and griefs to her cousin (all except her promise to +Mrs. Forsythe) as soon as they were alone. + +Lois felt no difference. Helen had been away for a long time, but she was +still the same Helen to her; strong, and true, and gentle, with perhaps a +little more gravity in her eyes, but Lois was so grave herself she did +not notice that. Whereas with Helen there was a dual life: the one, +absorbing, passionate, and intense; the other, a memory; a tender, +beautiful past, no longer a necessity. + +Helen's joys had come between her and this once dear home life, and even +while Lois was telling her of her cruel anxiety, and Helen was listening +with a face full of sympathy, her thoughts were following John on his +lonely walk back from prayer-meeting, and greeting him in the doorway of +the empty house. + +Of course the consciousness of the difference and the strangeness wore +off in a few days; perhaps if Ashurst had been its usual quiet self, it +would have lasted longer, but there was so much to do, and so little +appreciation of change in the mind of any one else, she almost forgot +to notice it herself, but only knew that all the time, under all her +sympathy with Ashurst joys and sorrows,--mostly sorrows, now,--was a +deep, still current of thought flowing towards her husband. + +Mrs. Dale had been the first one to come in, in the morning. They had +scarcely finished breakfast when they heard her decided voice in the +hall, reproving Sally for some careless sweeping. A little while ago, +Lois would have resented this as interference; but she had too many real +troubles now to take Mrs. Dale's meddling to heart. + +"Well, Helen, my dear," she said, "I'm glad to see you." Mrs. Dale turned +her cheek to her niece, under the impression that she was kissing her. +"It is high time for you to be home again. You must keep this foolish +child in order; she hardly eats or sleeps. I suppose you've sent to know +how Arabella Forsythe is to-day, Lois?" + +Lois looked anxious. "I thought she really was better last night, but she +sent word this morning there was no change." + +"Fudge!" cried Mrs. Dale. "I brought her round all right before that +nurse came. She can't have killed her in this time. The fact is, brother, +Arabella Forsythe isn't in any hurry to get well; she likes the +excitement of frightening us all to death. I declare, Helen, she made her +death-bed adieux six times over! I must say, nothing does show a person's +position in this world so well as his manner of leaving it. You won't +find poor William Denner making a fuss. He isn't Admiral Denner's +great-grandson for nothing. Yes, Arabella Forsythe has talked about her +soul, and made arrangements for her funeral, every day for a week. That's +where her father's money made in buttons crops out!" + +"But aunt Deely," Helen said, "isn't there any hope for Mr. Denner? +Ashurst wouldn't be Ashurst without Mr. Denner!" + +"No, not a bit," Mrs. Dale answered promptly. "I suppose you'll go and +see him this morning, brother, and tell him?" + +"Yes," replied Dr. Howe, sighing, "I suppose I must, but it does seem +unnecessary to disturb him." + +"He won't be disturbed," said Mrs. Dale stoutly; "he isn't that kind. +There, now," she added, as Dr. Howe took up his hat and stick and went +gloomily out into the sunshine, "I shouldn't wonder if your father left +it to Gifford to break it to him, after all. It is curious how Archibald +shrinks from it, and he a clergyman! I could do it, easily. Now, Lois, +you run along; I want to talk to Helen." + +But the rector had more strength of purpose than his sister thought. His +keen eyes blurred once or twice in his walk to the village, and his lip +almost trembled, but when he reached Mr. Denner's bedside he had a firm +hand to give his friend. The doctor had left a note for him, saying the +end was near, and he read this before he went into the sick-room. + +Mr. Denner had failed very perceptibly since the day before. He looked +strangely little in the great bed, and his brown eyes had grown large and +bright. But he greeted the rector with courteous cordiality, under which +his faint voice faltered, and almost broke. + +"How are you to-day, Denner?" his friend said, sitting down on the edge +of the bed, and taking the sick man's hand in his big warm grasp. + +"Thank you," replied Mr. Denner, with labored breath, "I am doing +nicely." + +"Has Giff been here this morning?" asked Dr. Howe. + +"Yes," the lawyer answered. "He has gone home for an hour. Mary takes +excellent care of me, and I felt I was really keeping him too much from +his aunts. For his stay is limited, you know, and I am afraid I have been +selfish in keeping him so much with me." + +"No, no," the rector said, "it is a pleasure for him to be with you; it +is a pleasure for any of us. Poor little Lois is dreadfully distressed +about you,--she longs to come and nurse you herself; and Helen,--Helen +came last night, you know,--she wants to be of some use, too." + +"Oh, well, now, dear me," remonstrated Mr. Denner feebly, "Miss Lois must +not have a moment's uneasiness about me,--not a moment's. Pray tell her I +am doing nicely; and it is really of no consequence in the world,--not +the slightest." + +Then Mr. Denner began to speak of Gifford's kindness, and how good every +one in the village had been to him; even Mary had softened wonderfully in +the last few days, though of this the sick man did not speak, for it +would seem to imply that Mary had not always been all she might be, and, +in view of her present kindness, it would have been ungracious to draw +attention to that. + +"Yes," Mr. Denner ended, folding his little hands on the counterpane, "it +is worth while to have had this indisposition (except for the trouble it +has given others) just to see how good every one is. Gifford has been +exceedingly kind and thoughtful. His gentleness--for I have been very +troublesome, doctor--has been wonderful. Like a woman's; at least so I +should imagine." + +The rector had clasped his hands upon his stick, and was looking intently +at Mr. Denner, his lower lip thrust out and his eyebrows gathered in an +absent frown. + +"William," he said suddenly, "you've seen the doctor this morning?" + +"Yes," Mr. Denner answered, "oh, yes. He is very kind about getting here +early; the nights seem quite long, and it is a relief to see him early." + +"I have not seen him to-day," said Dr. Howe slowly, "but yesterday he +made me feel very anxious about you. Yes, we were all quite anxious, +William." + +The lawyer gave a little start, and looked sharply at his old friend; +then he said, hesitating slightly, "That--ah--that was yesterday, did I +understand you to say?" + +Dr. Howe leaned forward and took one of Mr. Denner's trembling little +hands in his, which was strong and firm. "Yes," he said gently, "but, +William, my dear old friend, I am anxious still. I cannot help--I cannot +help fearing that--that"-- + +"Stay," interrupted Mr. Denner, with a visible effort at composure, +"I--I quite understand. Pray spare yourself the pain of speaking of it, +Archibald. You are very kind, but--I quite understand." + +He put his hand before his eyes a moment, and then blindly stretched it +out to his friend. The rector took it, and held it hard in his own. The +two men were silent. Mr. Denner was the first to speak. + +"It is very good in you to come and tell me, Archibald. I fear it has +discomposed you; it was very painful for you. Pray do not allow yourself +to feel the slightest annoyance; it is of no consequence, I--ah--assure +you. But since we are on the subject, perhaps you will kindly +mention--how--how soon?" + +"I hope, I trust," answered the rector huskily, "it may not be for +several days." + +"But probably," said Mr. Denner calmly, "probably--sooner?" + +Dr. Howe bowed his head. + +"Ah--just so--just so. I--I thank you, Archibald." + +Suddenly the rector drew a long breath, and straightened himself, as +though he had forgotten something. "It must come to us all, sooner or +later," he said gently, "and if we have lived well we need not dread it. +Surely you need not, of all the men I have ever known." + +"I have always endeavored," said Mr. Denner, in a voice which still +trembled a little, "to remember that I was a gentleman." + +Dr. Howe opened his lips and shut them again before he spoke. "I--I meant +that the trust in God, William, of a Christian man, which is yours, must +be your certain support now." + +The lawyer looked up, with a faint surprise dawning in his eyes. "Ah--you +are very good to say so, I'm sure," he replied courteously. + +Dr. Howe moved his hands nervously, clasping and re-clasping them upon +the head of his stick. "Yes, William," he said, after a moment's silence, +"that trust in God which leads us safely through all the dark places in +life will not fail us at the end. The rod and the staff still comfort +us." + +"Ah--yes," responded Mr. Denner. + +The rector gained confidence as he spoke. "And you must have that blessed +assurance of the love of God, William," he continued; "your life has been +so pure and good. You must see in this visitation not chastisement, but +mercy." + +Dr. Howe's hand moved slowly back to the big pocket in one of his black +coat-tails, and brought out a small, shabby prayer-book. + +"You will let me read the prayers for the sick," he continued gently, and +without waiting for a reply began to say with more feeling than Dr. Howe +often put into the reading of the service,-- + +"'Dearly beloved, know this, that Almighty God is the Lord of life and +death, and of all things to them pertaining; as'"-- + +"Archibald," said Mr. Denner faintly, "you will excuse me, but this is +not--not necessary, as it were." + +Dr. Howe looked at him blankly, the prayer-book closing in his hand. + +"I mean," Mr. Denner added, "if you will allow me to say so, the time +for--for speaking thus has passed. It is now, with me, Archibald." + +There was a wistful look in his eyes as he spoke. + +"I know," answered Dr. Howe tenderly, thinking that the Visitation of the +Sick must wait, "but God enters into now; the Eternal is our refuge, a +very present help in time of trouble." + +"Ah--yes"--said the sick man; "but I should like to approach this from +our usual--point of view, if you will be so good. I have every respect +for your office, but would it not be easier for us to speak of--of this +as we have been in the habit of speaking on all subjects, quite--in our +ordinary way, as it were? You will pardon me, Archibald, if I say +anything else seems--ah--unreal?" + +Dr. Howe rose and walked to the window. He stood there a few minutes, but +the golden June day was dim, and there was a tightening in his throat +that kept him silent. When he came back to the bedside, he stood, looking +down at the sick man, without speaking. Mr. Denner was embarrassed. + +"I did not mean to pain you," he said. + +"William," the rector answered, "have I made religion so worthless? Have +I held it so weakly that you feel that it cannot help you now?" + +"Oh, not at all," responded Mr. Denner, "not at all. I have the greatest +respect for it,--I fear I expressed myself awkwardly,--the greatest +respect; I fully appreciate its value, I might say its necessity, in the +community. But--but if you please, Archibald, since you have kindly come +to tell me of this--change, I should like to speak of it in our ordinary +way; to approach the subject as men of the world. It is in this manner, +if you will be so good, I should like to ask you a question. I think we +quite understand each other; it is unnecessary to be anything +but--natural." + +The clergyman took his place on the side of the bed, but he leaned his +head on his hand, and his eyes were hidden. "Ask me anything you will. +Yet, though I may not have lived it, William, I cannot answer you as +anything but a Christian man now." + +"Just so," said Mr. Denner politely--"ah--certainly; but, between +ourselves, doctor, putting aside this amiable and pleasing view of +the church, you understand,--speaking just as we are in the habit of +doing,--what do you suppose--what do you think--is beyond?" + +His voice had sunk to a whisper, and his eager eyes searched Dr. Howe's +face. + +"How can we tell?" answered the rector. "That it is infinitely good we +can trust; 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard'"--He stopped, for Mr. +Denner shook his head with a fine sort of impatience. + +"If you please, doctor!" + +The rector was silent. + +"I have wondered about it often," the other continued. "I have +expected--this, for some days, and I have wondered. Think how strange: in +a few days--almost a few hours, I shall know all, or--nothing! Yes, the +mystery of all the ages will be mine!" There was a thrill of triumph in +his feeble voice. "Think of that, doctor. I shall know more than the +wisest man that lives,--I! I was never a very clever person, never very +wise; and yet, here is a knowledge which shall not be too wonderful for +me, and to which I can attain." + +He held up his little thin hand, peering at the light between the +transparent fingers. "To think," he said slowly, with a puzzled smile, +"to think that this is going to be still! It has never been any power in +the world; I don't know that it has ever done any harm, yet it has +certainly never done any good; but soon it will be still. How strange, +how strange! And where shall I be? Knowing--or perhaps fallen on an +eternal sleep. How does it seem to you, doctor? That was what I wanted to +ask you; do you feel sure of anything--afterwards?" + +The rector could not escape the penetrating gaze of those strangely +bright brown eyes. He looked into them, and then wavered and turned away. + +"Do you?" said the lawyer. + +The other put his hands up to his face a moment. + +"Ah!" he answered sharply, "I don't know--I can't tell. I--I don't know, +Denner!" + +"No," replied Mr. Denner, with tranquil satisfaction, "I supposed not,--I +supposed not. But when a man gets where I am, it seems the one thing in +the world worth being sure of." + +Dr. Howe sat silently holding the lawyer's hand, and Mr. Denner seemed to +sink into pleasant thought. Once he smiled, with that puzzled, happy look +the rector had seen before, and then he closed his eyes contentedly as +though to doze. Suddenly he turned his head and looked out of the window, +across his garden, where a few old-fashioned flowers were blooming +sparsely, with much space between them for the rich, soft grass, which +seemed to hold the swinging shadows of an elm-tree in a lacy tangle. + +"'The warm precincts of the cheerful day,'" he murmured, and then his +eyes wandered about the room: the empty, blackened fireplace, where, on +a charred log and a heap of gray ashes, a single bar of sunshine had +fallen; his fiddle, lying on a heap of manuscript music; the one or two +formal portraits of the women of his family; and the large painting of +Admiral Denner in red coat and gold lace. On each one he lingered with a +loving, wondering gaze. "'The place thereof shall know it'"--he began +to say. "Ah, doctor, it is a wonderful book! How it does know the heart! +The soul sees itself there. 'As for man, his days are as grass; as a +flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and +it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more'--no more. That +is the wonder of it! How strange it is; and I had such plans for life, +now! Well, it is better thus, no doubt,--no doubt." + +After a while he touched the little oval velvet case which lay on the +table beside him, and, taking it up, looked long and earnestly at the +childish face inside the rim of blackened pearls. + +"I wonder"--he said, and then stopped, laying it down again, with a +little sigh. "Ah, well, I shall know. It is only to wait." + +He did not seem to want any answer; it was enough to ramble on, filled +with placid content, between dreams and waking, his hand held firm in +that of his old friend. Afterwards, when Gifford came in, he scarcely +noticed that the rector slipped away. It was enough to fill his mist of +dreams with gentle wonderings and a quiet expectation. Once he said +softly, "'In the hour of death, and in the day of judgment'"-- + +"'Good Lord, deliver us!'" Gifford finished gently. + +Mr. Denner opened his eyes and looked at him. "Good Lord," he said, +"ah--yes--yes--that is enough, my friend. _Good_ Lord; one leaves the +rest." + +Dr. Howe walked home with a strange look on his face. He answered his +daughter briefly, that Mr. Denner was failing, and then, going into his +library, he moved a table from in front of the door, which always stood +hospitably open, and shut and locked it. + +"What's the matter with the doctor?" asked Dick Forsythe, lounging up to +the rectory porch, his hands in his pockets and his hat on the back of +his head. "I walked behind him all the way from the village; he looked, +as though some awful thing had happened, and he walked as if he was +possessed." + +"Oh, Mr. Denner's worse," Lois answered tearfully. + +Mr. Forsythe had found her on the porch, and, in spite of her grief, she +looked nervously about for some one to save her from a _tête-à-tête_. + +Dick seemed as anxious as she. "No, I won't sit down, thank you. Mother +just wanted to know if you'd run in this afternoon a few minutes," and +any one less frightened than Lois must have seen that he wished his +mother had chosen another messenger. + +"Is she--is she pretty comfortable?" the girl said, pulling a rose to +pieces, and looking into the cool, dark hall for a third person; but +there was only Max, lying fast asleep under the slender-legged table, +which held a blue bowl full of peonies, rose, and white, and deep glowing +red. + +Dick also glanced towards the door. "Oh, yes, she'll be all right. +Ah--unfortunately, I can't stay very long in Ashurst, but she'll be all +right, I'm sure. You'll cheer her up when I'm gone, Miss Howe?" + +Lois felt herself grow white. A sudden flash of hope came into her mind, +and then fear. What did it mean? Was he going because he dared not ask +her, or would his mother tell him that he would surely succeed? Oh, her +promise! + +Her breath came quick, and Mr. Forsythe saw it, "Yes," he said, +stammering with embarrassment, "I--I fear I shall have to +go--ah--important business." + +Just then both these unhappy young people caught sight of Helen coming +serenely across the lawn. + +"There's my cousin," said Lois; "let us go and meet her." + +"Oh, yes, do!" Dick answered fervently; and presently greeted Helen with +a warmth which made her give Lois a quick, questioning look from under +her straight brows, and sent her thoughts with a flash of sympathy to +Gifford Woodhouse. + +When the young man had gone, Helen said to her cousin, "Lois, dear--?" + +But Lois only threw herself into her arms with such floods of tears Helen +could do nothing but try to calm her. + +Lois was not the only one who heard of Dick's plan of leaving Ashurst +with mingled joy and dread. Gifford knew that Mr. Forsythe was going +away, and seeing the distress in Lois's face, in these sad days, he put +it down to grief at his departure. It was easier to give himself this +pain than to reflect that Lois was trembling with anxiety about Mr. +Denner, and was still full of alarm for Mrs. Forsythe. + +"If that puppy neglects her," he thought, "if she cares for him, and if +he grieves her, I vow I'll have a word to say to him! Now why should she +cry, if it isn't because he's going away?" + +Though he was glad Ashurst would see the last of this objectionable young +man, Lois's grief turned his gladness into pain, and there was no hope +for himself in his relief at Dick's departure. Miss Deborah, with the +best intentions in the world, had made that impossible. + +The day after Dr. Howe had told Mr. Denner that he must die, Gifford had +come home for a few minutes. He had met the little ladies walking arm in +arm up and down one of the shady paths of their walled garden. Miss Ruth +still held her trowel in her hand, and her shabby gloves were stained by +the weeds she had pulled up. + +"Oh, there you are, dear Giff," she cried; "we were just looking for you. +Pray, how is Mr. Denner?" + +Gifford's serious face answered her without words, and none of the group +spoke for a moment. Then Gifford said, "It cannot last much longer. You +see, he suffers very much at night; it doesn't seem as though he could +live through another." + +"Oh, dear me," said Miss Ruth, wiping her eyes with the frankest grief, +"you don't say so!" + +"Haven't you just heard him say so, sister?" asked Miss Deborah, trying +to conceal an unsteady lip by a show of irritation. "Do pay attention." + +"I did, dear Deborah," returned Miss Ruth, "but I cannot bear to believe +it." + +"Your believing it, or not, doesn't alter the case unfortunately. Did he +like the syllabub yesterday, Gifford?" + +"He couldn't eat it," her nephew answered, "but Willie seemed to enjoy +it." + +"Poor child," cried Miss Deborah, full of sympathy, "I'm glad he had +anything to comfort him. But Gifford, do you really feel sure Mr. Denner +cannot recover?" + +"Too sure," replied the young man, with a sigh. + +"There's no doubt about it,--no doubt whatever?" Miss Ruth inquired +anxiously. + +Her nephew looked at her in surprise. "I wish there were." + +"Well, then, sister?" said Miss Ruth. + +Miss Deborah nodded and sighed. "I--I think so," she answered, and the +two sisters turned to go into the house, importance and grief on both +their faces; but Miss Deborah suddenly recollected something she wished +to say. + +"Do you know, Gifford," she said, letting Miss Ruth get a little ahead of +her, "I really think that that young Forsythe is without proper feeling; +and I am surprised at dear Lois, too. I cannot say--I am not at liberty +to say anything more, but at such a time"-- + +Gifford gave her a quick look. "What do you mean, aunt Deborah?" + +But his aunt seemed reluctant to speak, and looked after Miss Ruth, who +was walking slowly up the mossy path, flecked here and there by patches +of sunshine that fell through the flickering leaves above her. When she +was quite out of hearing, Miss Deborah said mysteriously,-- + +"Well, perhaps; I might tell you; you are not like any one else. Ruth +thinks I cannot keep a secret, but then you know your dear aunt Ruth does +not discriminate. You are quite different from the public." + +"Well, and what is it?" he said impatiently, and with a horrible +foreboding. + +"Why, it is settled," answered Miss Deborah; "it is all settled between +Lois and young Forsythe. Arabella Forsythe told Adele Dale, and Adele +Dale told me; quite privately, of course. It wasn't to be mentioned to +any one; but it was only natural to speak of it to dear Ruth and to you." + +Gifford did not wait to hear more. "I must go," he said hurriedly. "I +must get back to Mr. Denner," and he was off. + +"Oh, dear Giff!" cried Miss Deborah; taking little mincing steps as she +tried to run after him. "You won't mention it? You won't speak of it to +any one, or say I--I"-- + +"No!" he called back,--"no, of course not." + +"Not even to your aunt Ruth would be best!" But he did not hear her, and +Miss Deborah went back to the house, annoyed at Gifford, because of her +own indiscretion. + +Miss Ruth had gone to her own bedroom, and some time after Miss Deborah +had disappeared in hers, the younger sister emerged, ready to go to Mr. +Denner's. + +Miss Ruth had dressed with great care, yet with a proper sense of +fitness, considering the occasion. She wore a soft, old-fashioned lawn +with small bunches of purple flowers scattered over it, and gathered very +full about the waist. But, before the swinging mirror of her high bureau, +she thought it looked too light and bright for so sad a visit, and so +trotted up-stairs to the garret, and, standing on tiptoe by a great chest +of drawers, opened one with much care, that the brass rings might not +clatter on the oval plates under them, and disturb Miss Deborah. The +drawer was sweet with lavender and sweet clover, and, as she lifted from +its wrappings of silvered paper a fine black lace shawl, some pale, +brittle rose-leaves fell out upon the floor. That shawl, thrown about her +shoulders, subdued her dress, she thought; and the wide-brimmed black hat +of fine Neapolitan straw, tied with soft black ribbons beneath her little +round chin, completed the look of half mourning. + +Miss Deborah answered her sister's knock at her bedroom door in person. +She was not dressed to make calls, for she wore a short gown over her red +flannel petticoat, and on her feet were large and comfortable list +slippers. Miss Deborah's eyes were red, and she sniffed once, +suspiciously. + +"Why, Ruth Woodhouse!" she cried. "Have you no sense? Don't, for pity's +sake, dress as though you had gone into mourning for the man, when he's +alive. And it is very forward of you, too, for if either of us did it +(being such old friends), it should be I, for I am nearer his age." + +But Miss Ruth did not stop for discussion. "Are you not going?" she said. + +"No," Miss Deborah answered, "we'd better go to-morrow. You might just +inquire of Mary, this afternoon, but we will call to-morrow. It is more +becoming to put it off as long as possible." + +Miss Ruth had her own views, and she consented with but slight demur, and +left Miss Deborah to spend the rest of the afternoon in a big chair by +the open window, with Baxter's "Saints' Rest" upon her knee. + +When Gifford had gone back to the lawyer's house, he found the little +gentleman somewhat brighter. Mary had put a clean white counterpane on +the bed, and buttoned a fresh valance around it; and on the small table +at his side Willie had placed a big bunch of gillyflowers and lupins, +with perhaps less thought of beauty than of love. + +"Gifford," he said, "I am glad to see you. And how, if you please, +did you leave your aunt? I hope you conveyed to her my thanks for her +thoughtfulness, and my apologies for detaining you as well?" + +"Yes, sir," the young man answered, "I did. They are both rejoiced that +I can be of any service." + +Gifford had come to the side of the bed, and, slipping his strong young +arm under Mr. Denner's head, lifted him that he might take with greater +ease the medicine he held in a little slender-stemmed glass. "Ah," said +Mr. Denner, between a sigh and a groan, as Gifford laid him down again, +"how gentle you are! There is a look in your face, sometimes, of one of +your aunts, sir; not, I think, Miss Deborah. I have thought much, since +I--I knew my condition, Gifford, of my wish that your aunt Deborah should +have the miniature of my little sister. I still wish it. It is not easy +for me to decide a momentous question, but, having decided, I am apt to +be firm. Perhaps--unreasonably firm. I would not have you imagine I had, +in any way, changed my mind, as it were--yet I have recurred, +occasionally, in my thoughts, to Miss Ruth. I should not wish to seem to +slight Miss Ruth, Gifford?" + +"She could not feel it so, I know," the young man answered. + +But Mr. Denner's thoughts apparently dwelt upon it, for twice again, in +intervals of those waking dreams, or snatches of sleep, he said, quite to +himself, "It is decided; yet it would seem marked to pass over Miss +Ruth." And again he murmured, "I should not wish to slight Miss Deborah's +sister." + +Later in the afternoon he wakened, with a bright, clear look in his face. +"It occurs to me," he said, "that I have another portrait, of no value at +all compared with the miniature (and of course it is becoming that the +miniature should go to Miss Deborah), which I might give to Miss Ruth. +Because she is the sister of Miss Deborah, you understand, Gifford. +Perhaps you will be so good as to hand me the square package from that +same little drawer? Here is the key." + +Gifford brought it: it was a daguerreotype case, much worn and frayed +along the leather back, and without the little brass hooks which used to +fasten it; instead, a bit of ribbon had been tied about it to keep it +closed. Mr. Denner did not open it; he patted the faded green bow with +his little thin fingers. + +"It is a portrait of myself," he said. "It belonged to my mother. I had +it taken for her when I was but a boy; yes, I was only thirty. She tied +the ribbon; it has never been opened since." + +He put it down on the stand, by the miniature, under the gillies and +lupins. + +So it happened that when Miss Ruth Woodhouse came to inquire for him, she +had been in Mr. Denner's thoughts all the afternoon. "Not," he kept +assuring himself, "not that I have changed my mind,--not at all,--but she +is Miss Deborah's sister." + +It was after five when Mary pushed the library door open softly, and +looked in, and then beckoned mysteriously to Gifford. + +"It is your aunt; she wants to know how he is. You'd better come and tell +her." + +Mr. Denner heard her, and turned his head feebly towards the door. "Miss +Woodhouse, did you say, Mary? Which Miss Woodhouse, if you please?" + +"It's the young one," said Mary, who spoke relatively. + +"Miss Ruth?" Mr. Denner said, with an eager quaver in his voice. +"Gifford, do you think--would you have any objection, Gifford, to +permitting me to see your aunt? That is, if she would be so obliging +and kind as to step in for a moment?" + +"She will be glad to, I know," Gifford answered. "Let me go and bring +her." + +Miss Ruth was in a flutter of grief and excitement. "I'll come, of +course. I--I had rather hoped I might see him; but what will Deborah say? +Yet I can't but think it's better for him not to see two people at once." + +Mr. Denner greeted her by a feeble flourish of his hand. "Oh, dear me, +Mr. Denner," said she, half crying, in spite of Gifford's whispered +caution, "I'm so distressed to see you so ill, indeed I am." + +"Oh, not at all," responded Mr. Denner, but his voice had a strange, +far-away sound in his ears, and he tried to speak louder and more +confidently,--"not at all. You are very good to come, ma'am;" and then +he stopped to remember what it was he had wished to say. + +Miss Ruth was awed into silence, and there was a growing anxiety in +Gifford's face. + +"Ah--yes"--Mr. Denner began again, with a flash of strength in his tone, +"I wished to ask you if you would accept--accept"--he reached towards the +little table, but he could not find the leather case until Gifford put it +into his hand--"if you would be so good as to accept this; and will you +open it, if you please, Miss Ruth?" + +She did so, with trembling fingers. It was a daguerreotype of Mr. Denner; +the high neckcloth and the short-waisted, brass-buttoned coat and +waistcoat showed its age, as well as the dimness of the glass and the +fresh boyish face of the young man of thirty. + +"What--what was I speaking of, Gifford?" said Mr. Denner. + +"You gave my aunt Ruth the picture, sir." + +"Oh, yes, just so, just so. I merely wished to add that I desired to +present it to Miss Deborah's sister,--though it is of no value, not the +least value; but I should be honored by its acceptance. And perhaps you +will be good enough to--to convey the assurance of my esteem to Miss +Deborah. And Gifford--my friend Gifford is to give her the miniature of +my little sister." + +"Yes," said Miss Ruth, who was crying softly. + +"Not that I have--have changed my mind," said Mr. Denner, "but it is not +improper, I am sure, that Miss Deborah's sister should give me--if she +will be so good--her hand, that I may say good-by?" + +Miss Ruth did not quite understand, until Gifford motioned to her to lay +her little hand in that feeble one which was groping blindly towards her. + +Mr. Denner's eyes were very dim. + +"I--I am very happy," he murmured. "I thank you, Ruth;" and then, a +moment after, "If you will excuse me, I think I will rest for a few +moments." + +Still holding Miss Ruth's hand, he turned his head in a weary way towards +the light, and softly closed his eyes. + +Mr. Denner rested. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Perhaps the majesty of Death is better understood when some little soul +is swallowed up in the great Mystery than when one is taken on whom Life +has laid her bright touch, and made famous and necessary. + +Even in quiet Ashurst, Mr. Denner was, as he himself would have, said, of +no consequence, and his living was not felt in any way; yet when he was +gone, a sudden knowledge came of how much he was to them, and how great a +blank he left. So Death creates greatness. + +It was well for Lois Howe, in those first sad days, that her cousin was +with her, or the reaction from the excitement of anxiety into hopeless +grief might have been even more prostrating than it was. All the comfort +and tenderness Helen could give her in her helpless self-reproach were +hers, though she as well as Gifford never sought to make the sorrow less +by evading the truth. But Helen was troubled about her, and said to Dr. +Howe, "Lois must come to see me for a while; she does need a change very +much. I'm afraid she won't be able to go with me next week, but can't she +come as soon as she is strong enough to travel?" + +And so it was decided that she should come with Gifford, who would go +back to Lockhaven in about a fortnight. Business, which never reached Mr. +Denner in Mercer, had been offered the young lawyer, and he had been +willing to stay in Ashurst a little longer, though he had told himself he +was a fool. + +Lois looked forward to the visit with feverish anxiety. Mr. Forsythe, +perhaps to please his mother, but certainly with rather an ill grace, had +lingered in Ashurst. But he had not been very much at the rectory; +perhaps because it was not a time to make visits, or be careless and +light-hearted, while little Mr. Denner was fading out of life, and his +mother felt herself trembling on the edge of the grave. This, at least, +was what Mrs. Forsythe said to Lois more than once, with an anxious, +troubled look, which perhaps explained more than her words did. + +She had accepted very complacently Lois's protestations of joy and +gratitude that she was no longer, as she expressed it, in immediate +danger, but she did not apparently feel that that altered at all the +conditions of the promise Lois had given her, which was evidently a very +precious thing. Nor did Lois remonstrate against being held by it. She +felt she deserved any grief that came to her, and it would have been +cowardly, she thought, to shrink from what she had undertaken merely +because she had been so far mercifully spared the grief of Mrs. +Forsythe's death. And who could tell that she would live, even yet? +Certainly Mrs. Forsythe herself seemed to consider her recovery a matter +of grave doubt, and Lois's anxieties were quick to agree with her. + +So she went about with a white face and eyes from which all the careless +gayety had gone, simply bearing her life with a dull pain and in constant +fear. Gifford saw it, and misunderstood it; he thought, in view of what +Miss Deborah had told him and what he knew of Mr. Forsythe's plans, that +it was natural for Lois to look unhappy. Anxieties are very misleading; +the simple explanation of remorse for her carelessness did not come into +Gifford's mind at all. + +One afternoon,--it was the day following Mr. Denner's funeral,--Gifford +thought this all over, and tried to see what his life offered him for the +future, now that the last faint hope of winning Lois's love had died. Mr. +Denner's will had been read that morning in his dining-room, with only +Dr. Howe and Mary and Willie present, while the rain beat persistently +against the windows, and made the room so dark that Gifford had to call +for a candle, and hold the paper close to his eyes to see to read. Willie +had shivered, and looked steadfastly under the table, thinking, while his +little heart beat suffocatingly, that he was glad there were no prayers +after a will. When that was over, and Dr. Howe had carried Willie back +with him to be cheered and comforted at the rectory, Gifford had devoted +himself to disposing of such small effects as Mr. Denner had left as +personal bequests. + +They were not very many. A certain bamboo rod with silver mountings and a +tarnished silver reel, were for Dr. Howe; and there were a few books to +be sent to Mr. Dale, and six bottles of Tokay, '52, for Colonel Drayton. +There was a mourning-ring, which had been Mr. Denner's father's, for a +distant cousin, who was further comforted by a few hundred dollars, but +all the rest was for Willie. + +Gifford had felt, as he sat at Mr. Denner's writing-desk and touched some +small possessions, all the pathetic powerlessness of the dead. How Mr. +Denner had treasured his little valueless belongings! There was a pair of +silver shoe-buckles, wrapped in chamois skin, which the little gentleman +had faithfully kept bright and shining; they had belonged to his +grandfather, and Mr. Denner could remember when they had been worn, and +the knee-breeches, and the great bunch of seals at the fob. Perhaps, when +his little twinkling brown eyes looked at them, he felt again the thrill +of love and fear for the stately gentleman who had awed his boyhood. +There was a lock of faded gray hair in a yellow old envelope, on which +was written, in the lawyer's precise hand, "My mother's hair," and a date +which seemed to Gifford very far back. There were one or two relics of +the little sister: a small green morocco shoe, which had buttoned about +her ankle, and a pair of gold shoulder-straps, and a narrow pink ribbon +sash that had grown yellow on the outside fold. + +There was a pile of neatly kept diaries, with faithful accounts of the +weather, and his fishing excursions, and the whist parties; scarcely more +than this, except a brief mention of a marriage or a death. Of course +there were letters; not very many, but all neatly labeled with the +writer's name and the date of their arrival. These Gifford burned, and +the blackened ashes were in the wide fireplace, behind a jug of flowers, +on which he could hear, down the chimney, the occasional splash of a +raindrop. There was one package of letters where the name was "Gertrude;" +there were but few of these, and, had Gifford looked, he would have seen +that the last one, blistered with tears, said that her father had +forbidden further correspondence, and bade him, with the old epistolary +formality from which not even love could escape, "an eternal farewell." +But the tear-stains told more than the words, at least of Mr. Denner's +heart, if not of pretty sixteen-year-old Gertrude's. These were among the +first to be burned; yet how Mr. Denner had loved them, even though +Gertrude, running away with her dancing-master, and becoming the mother +of a family of boys, had been dead these twenty years, and the proverb +had pointed to Miss Deborah Woodhouse! + +Some papers had to be sealed, and the few pieces of silver packed, ready +to be sent to the bank in Mercer, and then Gifford had done. + +He was in the library, from which the bed had been moved, and which was +in trim and dreary order. The rain still beat fitfully upon the windows, +and the room was quite dark. Gifford had pushed the writing-desk up to +the window for the last ray of light, and now he sat there, the papers +all arranged and nothing more to do, yet a vague, tender loyalty to the +little dead gentleman keeping him. And sitting, leaning his elbows on the +almost unspotted sheet of blue blotting-paper which covered the open flap +of the desk, he fell into troubled thinking. + +"Of course," he said to himself, "she's awfully distressed about Mr. +Denner, but there's something more than that. She seems to be watching +for something all the time; expecting that fellow, beyond a doubt. And +why he is not there oftener Heaven only knows! And to think of his going +off on his confounded business at such a time, when she is in such +trouble! If only for a week, he has no right to go and leave her. His +business is to stay and comfort her. Then, when he is at the rectory, +what makes him pay her so little attention? If he wasn't a born cad, +somebody ought to thrash him for his rudeness. If Lois had a +brother!--But I suppose he does not know any better, and then Lois +loves him. Where's Helen's theory now, I wonder? Oh, I suppose she thinks +he is all right. I'd like to ask her, if I hadn't promised aunt Deborah." + +Just here, Gifford heard the garden gate close with a bang, and some one +came down the path, holding an umbrella against the pelting rain, so that +his face was hidden. But Gifford knew who it was, even before Mary, +shuffling asthmatically through the hall, opened the door to say, "Mr. +Forsythe's here to see you." + +"Ask him to come in," he said, pushing his chair back from the secretary, +and lifting the flap to lock it as he spoke. + +Dick Forsythe came in, shaking his dripping umbrella, and saying with a +good-natured laugh, "Jove! what a wet day! You need a boat to get through +the garden. Your aunt--the old one, I think it was--asked me, if I was +passing, to bring you these overshoes. She was afraid you had none, and +would take cold." + +He laughed again, as though he knew how amusing such nonsense was, and +then had a gleam of surprise at Gifford's gravity. + +"I'd gone to her house with a message from my mother," he continued; "you +know we get off to-morrow. Mother's decided to go, too, so of course +there are a good many things to do, and the old lady is so strict about +Ashurst customs I've had to go round and 'return thanks' to everybody." + +Gifford had taken the parcel from Dick's hand, and thanked him briefly. +The young man, however, seemed in no haste to go. + +"I don't know which is damper, this room or out-of-doors," he said, +seating himself in Mr. Denner's big chair,--though Gifford was +standing--and looking about in an interested way; "must have been a +gloomy house to live in. Wonder he never got married. Perhaps he couldn't +find anybody willing to stay in such a hole,--it's so confoundedly damp. +He died in here, didn't he?" This was in a lower voice. + +"Yes," Gifford answered. + +"Shouldn't think you'd stay alone," Dick went on; "it is awfully dismal. +I see he cheered himself once in a while." He pointed to a tray, which +held a varied collection of pipes and a dingy tobacco pouch of buckskin +with a border of colored porcupine quills. + +"Yes, Mr. Denner smoked," Gifford was constrained to say. + +"I think," said Dick, clapping his hand upon his breast-pocket, "I'll +have a cigar myself. It braces one up this weather." He struck a match on +the sole of his boot, forgetting it was wet, and vowing good-naturedly +that he was an ass. "No objection, I suppose?" he added, carefully biting +off the end of his cigar. + +"I should prefer," Gifford replied slowly, "that you did not smoke. There +is an impropriety about it, which surely you must appreciate." + +Dick looked at him, with the lighted match flaring bluely between his +fingers. "Lord!" he said, "how many things are improper in Ashurst! But +just as you say, of course." He put his cigar back in an elaborate case, +and blew out the match, throwing it into the fireplace, among the +flowers. "The old gentleman smoked himself, though." + +Gifford's face flushed slowly, and he spoke with even more deliberation +than usual. "Since you have decided not to smoke, you must not let me +detain you. I am very much obliged for the package." + +"You're welcome, I'm sure," Dick said. "Yes, I suppose I'd better be +getting along. Well, I'll say good-by, Mr. Woodhouse. I suppose I sha'n't +see you before I go? And Heaven knows when I'll be in Ashurst again!" + +Gifford started. "Sit down a moment," he said, waving aside Dick's hand. +"Surely you are not leaving Ashurst for any length of time?" + +"Length of time?" answered the other, laughing. "Well, I rather think so. +I expect to go abroad next month." + +A curious desire came into Gifford Woodhouse's strong hands to take this +boy by the throat, and shake him until his ceaseless smile was torn to +pieces. Instead of that, however, he folded his arms, and stood looking +down at his companion in silence. + +Dick had seated himself again, and was twirling his wet umbrella round +and round by the shiny end of one of the ribs. "Yes," he said, "this is a +long good-by to Ashurst." + +"Mr. Forsythe," said Gifford, with an edge of anger in his voice which +could not have escaped even a more indifferent ear than Dick's, "may I +ask if Dr. Howe knows of your plans?" + +Dick looked up, with a sudden ugly shadow coming across the sunny +brightness of his face. "I don't know what I've done to deserve this +concern on your part, Mr. Woodhouse; but, since you ask, I have no +objection to saying that Dr. Howe does not particularly interest himself +in my affairs. I don't know whether he's aware of my plans, and I care +less." + +He rose, and stood grasping his wet umbrella mid-ways, looking defiantly +into Gifford's face. It was singular how instantly, in some wordless way, +he appreciated that he had been blamed. + +Gifford began to speak in the slow, measured tone which showed how he was +guarding his words. "You may not care for his interest," he said, "but +you can scarcely expect that he would not notice your absence." + +"I cannot see that my movements are of so much importance to Dr. Howe," +Dick answered, "and he certainly has never taken it upon himself to +meddle in my affairs to the extent of asking me about them." + +"Nevertheless," said Gifford, with ominous gentleness, "he must +feel--surprise at your departure. That your business should take you away +at this time, Mr. Forsythe, is unfortunate." + +"I know my business, at least," cried the other loudly, his voice +trembling with anger, "and I'm capable of attending to it without +suggestions from you! I'll trouble you to speak plainly, instead of +hinting. What right have you to question my leaving Ashurst?" + +"No right," Gifford said calmly. + +"Why don't you speak out like a man?" Forsythe demanded with a burst of +rage, striking the table with his fist. "What do you mean by your damned +impudence? So you dare to question my conduct to Lois Howe, do you?--you +confounded prig!" + +"Be silent!" Gifford said between his teeth. "Gentlemen do not introduce +the name of a woman into their discussions. You forgot yourself. It is +unnecessary to pursue this subject. I have nothing more to say." + +"But I have more to say. Who gave you the right to speak to me? The lady +herself? She must be indeed distressed to choose you for a messenger." + +Gifford did not answer; for a moment the dark room was very still, except +for the beating rain and the tapping of the ivy at the south window. + +"Or perhaps," he went on, a sneer curling his handsome mouth, "you will +comfort her yourself, instead? Well, you're welcome." + +Gifford's hands clenched on the back of the chair in front of him. "Sir," +he said, "this place protects you, and you know it." + +But Dick Forsythe was beside himself with anger. He laughed insultingly. +"I'll not detain you any longer. Doubtless you will wish to go to the +rectory to-night. But I'm afraid, even though I'm obliging enough to +leave Ashurst, you will have no"--He did not finish his sentence. Gifford +Woodhouse's hand closed like a vise upon his collar. There were no words. +Dick's struggles were as useless as beating against a rock; his maddest +efforts could not shake off that relentless hand. Gifford half pushed, +half carried, him to the door, and in another moment Dick Forsythe found +himself flung like a snapping cur in the mud and rain of Mr. Denner's +garden. + +He gathered himself up, and saw Gifford standing in the doorway, as +though to offer him a chance of revenge. + +"Damn you!" he screamed, furious with passion. "I'll pay you for this! +I--I"--He choked with rage, and shook his fist at the motionless figure +on the steps. Then, trembling with impotent fury, oaths stumbling upon +his lips, he turned and rushed into the gathering darkness. + +Gifford watched him, and then the door swung shut, and he went back +to Mr. Denner's library. His breath was short, and he was tingling +with passion, but he had no glow of triumph. "I've been a fool," he +said,--"I've been a fool! I've made it worse for her. The hound!" + +But in spite of his genuine contrition, there was a subtile joy. "He does +not love her," he thought, "and she will forget him." + +Yet, as he sat there in Mr. Denner's dark library, filled with remorse +and unabated rage as well, he began to realize that he had been +meddlesome; and he was stung with a sudden sense that it was not +honorable to have pushed his questions upon Forsythe. Gifford's +relentless justice overtook him. Had he not given Forsythe the right to +insult him? Would not he have protected himself against any man's prying? +Gifford blushed hotly in the darkness. "But not to use Lois's name,--not +that! Nothing could justify the insult to her!" + +Mary came in to lock up, and started with fright at the sight of the +dark, still figure. "Lord! it's a ghost!" she cried shrilly. + +"I am here, Mary," he said wearily. "I'm going home now." + +And so he did, walking doggedly through the storm, with his head bent and +his hands in his pockets, forgetful of Miss Deborah's thoughtfulness in +the way of rubbers, and only anxious to avoid any kindly interruption +from his aunts, which their anxiety concerning damp clothes might +occasion. But he could not escape them. Miss Deborah met him at the door +with a worried face. "My dear boy!" she said, "no umbrella? Pray go to +bed directly, and let me bring you a hot drink. You will surely have a +cough to-morrow." But the little lady came back to the parlor with an +aggrieved face, for he had answered her with quiet determination not to +be fussed over. The sisters heard him walk quickly up-stairs and lock his +door. They looked at each other in astonishment. + +"He feels it very much," said Miss Ruth. + +"Yes," returned Miss Deborah; "he has been sorting the papers all the +afternoon. I must go and see Willie to-morrow." + +"Oh, I'll do that," Miss Ruth answered. "I cannot help feeling that it +is--my place." + +"Not at all," replied Miss Deborah firmly; "the miniature shows plainly +his sentiments towards me. I know he would wish me to look after Willie. +Indeed, I feel it a sacred duty." + +Miss Deborah moved her hands nervously. Mr. Denner's death was too recent +for it to be possible to speak of him without agitation. + +"Well," said Miss Ruth, "perhaps, after all, you are right, in a way. The +miniature is childish. Of course a portrait of himself has a far deeper +meaning." + +"Ruth Woodhouse," cried the other, "I'm ashamed of you! Didn't you tell +me yourself he said it was of no value? And you know how much he thought +of the little sister!" + +"But that was his modesty," said Miss Ruth eagerly. However, both ladies +parted for the night with unaltered convictions, and the younger sister, +opening the daguerreotype for one last look by her bedroom candle, +murmured to herself, "I wonder what Deborah would think if she knew he +said 'Ruth'?" + +The Forsythes went away the next morning. Perhaps it was the early start +which prevented Dick from seeing Gifford again, and finishing the so +summarily ended quarrel, or possibly it was recollection of the weight of +Gifford Woodhouse's hand. Yet he thought he had found a means of revenge. + +In spite of the rain, he had gone to the rectory. Helen was writing to +her husband, and Dr. Howe was reading. "You'll have to see him in the +parlor, Lois," her father said, looking at her over his paper, as Sally +announced Mr. Forsythe. + +"Oh, father!" she said. + +"Nonsense," replied the rector impatiently, "you know him well enough to +receive him alone. I can't be interrupted. Run along, child." + +"Will you come in, Helen, dear?" she pleaded. + +"Yes," Helen said, glancing at her with absent eyes; it was hard to leave +the intricacies of a theological argument to think of a girl's lover. +"I'll come soon." + +But in a letter to John she forgot every one else, and when Lois went +tremblingly out of the room both the rector and his niece lost themselves +in their own interests. + +"Good-evening, Miss Lois," Dick said, coming towards her with extended +hand. + +She could hardly hear her answer for her beating heart. + +"I came to say good-by," he went on, his bright blue eyes fastened +angrily upon her; but she did not see him. + +"You go to-morrow?" she faltered. + +"Yes," he answered; "but I could not leave Ashurst without--one more look +at the rectory." + +Lois did not speak. Oh, why did not Helen come? + +"A different scene this from that night after the dinner party," Dick +thought, looking at her downcast eyes and trembling hands with cruel +exultation in his face, "If I cared!" + +"How I have adored Ashurst!" he said slowly, wondering how far it would +be safe to go. "I have been very happy here. I hope I shall be still +happier, Lois?" + +Still she did not answer, but she pressed her hands hard together. Dick +looked at her critically. + +"When I come again,--oh, when I come again,--then, if you have not +forgotten me--Tell me you will not forget me, until I come again?" + +Lois shook her head. Dick had drawn her to a seat, and his eager face was +close to hers. + +"I said good-by to the rector this afternoon," he said, "but I felt I +must see you again, alone." + +Lois was silent. + +"I wonder if you know," he went on, "how often I shall think of Ashurst, +and of you?" + +He had possessed himself of her hand, which was cold and rigid, but lay +passively in his. She had turned her face away from him, and in a +stunned, helpless way was waiting for the question which seemed on his +lips. "And you know what my thoughts will be," he said meaningly. "You +make Ashurst beautiful." + +He saw the color, which had rushed to her face when he had begun to talk, +fade slowly; even her lips were white. But she never looked at him. + +"You were not always kind to me," he continued, "but when I come back"-- + +She turned with a sudden impulse toward him, her breath quick and her +lips unsteady. "Mr. Forsythe," she said, "I"-- + +But he had risen. "I suppose I must go," he said in his natural voice, +from which sentiment had fled, and left even a suggestion of alarm. +"It is late, and mother may need something,--you know she's always +needing something. We never can forget your kindness, Miss Lois. +Good-by,--good-by!" + +Though he lingered on that last word and pressed her hand, he had gone in +another moment. Lois stood breathless. She put her hands up to her head, +as though to quiet the confusion of her thoughts. What did it mean? Was +it only to let her see that he still loved her? Was he coming again? + +When Helen, remembering her duties, came into the parlor, it was +deserted, and Lois was facing her misery and fright in her own room, +while Dick Forsythe, raging homeward through the rain, was saying to +himself, "I've put an end to your prospects! She'll wait for me, if it is +six years. It is just as well she doesn't know I'm going abroad. I'll +tell mother not to mention it. Mother was right when she said I could +have her for the asking!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Helen's desire to get back to John made her decide to start on Monday, +instead of waiting until Wednesday, when the fortnight she had planned +for her visit ended. + +"I must go," she said, smiling at Dr. Howe's railings. "I cannot stay +away from home any longer. And you'll come soon, Lois, dear!" + +Even daily letters from John had not saved her from homesickness. They +were a comfort, even though they were filled with pleadings and prayers +that, for her soul's sake, she would see the error of her belief. Such +tenderness struggled through the pages of argument, Helen would lay her +cheek against them, and say softly, "I'll come home to you soon, dear." + +One of these last letters had entreated her to write immediately upon its +receipt, and answer it point by point. She did so, saying at the last, +"Now let us drop the whole subject. I will never, as long as I have +reason, believe this terrible doctrine,--never. So why need we ever speak +of it again? I know it is your fear of eternity which leads you to try to +make me believe it, but, dearest, if eternity depends on this, it is +already settled; let us just be glad together while we can, in this +beautiful time. Oh, I shall soon be home; I can think of nothing else." + +And she counted the hours until she could start. When the morning came, +with its clear June sky, and great white clouds lying dreamily behind the +hills, her face was running over with gladness, in spite of her sympathy +for Lois's grief. + +"How happy you look!" Lois said wistfully, as she sat watching Helen put +on her bonnet before the swinging mirror in its white and gold frame, on +her dressing-table. + +Helen had not known how her eyes were smiling, and she looked with quick +compunction at Lois's white face. "I shall see John so soon," she +answered contritely. "I can't help it." + +"I shall miss you awfully," Lois went on, leaning her forehead against +the edge of the bureau, and knotting the long linen fringe of the cover +with nervous little fingers. + +"But think how soon I'll have you in Lockhaven, dear; and you will be a +little stronger then, and happier, too," Helen said, brightly. + +For Lois was so worn and tired that a less active person would have +called herself ill; as it was, she was not able to bear the long ride to +Mercer and back, and Helen was to go alone, for Dr. Howe had to go out of +Ashurst a little way, to perform a marriage ceremony. + +"You'll have rain before the day is over, my dear," he said, as he put +her into the carriage, "and that will make it better traveling, no dust. +It's a shame that I should have to go in the other direction. Why +couldn't those people get married to-morrow instead of to-day, I should +like to know? Or why couldn't you stay twenty-four hours longer? Could +not stand it to be away from home another minute! Well, well, that's +right,--that's the way it should be. Hope Ward is as anxious to get you +back as you are to run off and leave us; perhaps he doesn't want you, +young lady." The rector laughed at Helen's confident look. "I don't half +like your going to Mercer by yourself," he added. + +"Oh, I shall get along very well," said Helen cheerily. "I have no doubt +there'll be a letter for me from John at the post-office, and I will get +it as we go through the village. I'll have that to read." + +"It will hardly last all the way to Lockhaven," Lois commented. + +"Oh, yes, it will," answered Helen, with a ripple of joy in her tone, +which, for pure gladness, was almost laughter. "You don't know, Lois!" + +Lois smiled drearily; she was sitting on the steps, her arms crossed +listlessly on her knees, and her eyes fixed in an absent gaze on the +garden. + +"Here's Giff," Helen continued, arranging her traveling-bag and some +books on the opposite seat of the carriage. "I shall just have time to +say good-by to him." + +"That is what I came for," Gifford said, as he took her hand a moment. +"I will bring Lois safely to you in a fortnight." + +Mrs. Dale was on the porch, and Sally and Jean stood smiling in the +doorway; so, followed by hearty good-bys and blessings, with her hands +full of flowers, and the sunshine resting on her happy face and +glinting through her brown hair, Helen drove away. + +Mr. Dale was at the post-office, and came out to hand her the letter she +expected. + +"So you're off?" he said, resting his hand on the carriage door, and +looking at her with a pleasant smile. "You've made me think of the +starling, this last week,--you remember the starling in the Bastile? +'I can't get out,' says the starling,--'I can't get out.' Well, I'm glad +you want to get out, my dear. My regards to your husband." He stood +watching the carriage whirl down the road, with a shade of envy on his +face. + +When Helen had gone, and the little group on the porch had scattered, +Lois rose to go into the house, but Gifford begged her to wait. + +"You stay too much in-doors," he remonstrated; "it has made your face a +little white. Do come into the garden awhile." + +"She does look badly," said Mrs. Dale from the top of the steps, +contemplating her niece critically. "I declare it puts me out of all +patience with her, to see her fretting in this way." + +Mrs. Dale was experiencing that curious indignation at a friend's +suffering which expends itself upon the friend; in reality her heart was +very tender towards her niece. "She misses the Forsythes," Mrs. Dale +continued. "She's been so occupied with Arabella Forsythe since the +accident, she feels as if she had nothing to do." + +There was no lack of color in Lois's face now, which did not escape +Gifford's eye. + +"Go, now, and walk with Gifford," said Mrs. Dale coaxingly, as though she +were speaking to a child. + +Lois shook her head, without looking at him. "I don't believe I will, if +you don't mind." + +But Mrs. Dale was not satisfied. "Oh, yes, you'd better go. You've +neglected the flowers dreadfully, I don't know how long it is since your +father has had any fresh roses in the library." + +"I'll get the garden scissors," Gifford pleaded; "it won't take long just +to cut some roses." + +"Well," Lois said languidly. + +Gifford went through the wide cool hall for the shears and the basket of +scented grass for the posies; he knew the rectory as well as his own +home. Mrs. Dale had followed him, and in the shadowy back hall she gave +him a significant look. + +"That's right, cheer her up. Of course she feels their going very much. +I must say, it does not show much consideration on the part of the young +man to leave her at such a time,--I don't care what the business is that +calls him away! Still, I can't say that I'm surprised. I never did like +that Dick, and I have always been afraid Lois would care for him." + +"I think it is a great misfortune," Gifford said gravely. + +"Oh, well, I don't know," demurred Mrs. Dale. "It is an excellent match; +and his carelessness now--well, it is only to be expected from a young +man who would carry his mother off from--from our care, to be looked +after by a hired nurse. He thought," said Mrs. Dale, bridling her head +and pursing up her lips, "that a lot of 'fussy old women' couldn't take +care of her. Still, it will be a good marriage for Lois. I'm bound to say +that, though I have never liked him." + +The young people did not talk much as they went down into the garden. +Lois pointed out what roses Gifford might cut, and, taking them from him, +put them into the little basket on her arm. + +"How I miss Helen!" she said at last. + +"Yes, of course," he answered, "but think how soon you'll see her in +Lockhaven;" and then he tried to make her talk of the lumber town, and +the people, and John Ward. But he had the conversation quite to himself. +At last, with a desperate desire to find something in which she would be +interested, he said, "You must miss your friends very much. I'm sorry +they are gone." + +"My friends?" + +"Yes, Mr. Forsythe--and his mother." + +"Oh, no!" she answered quickly. + +"No?" Gifford said, wondering if she were afraid he had discovered her +secret, and hastening to help her conceal it. "Oh, of course you feel +that the change will be good for Mrs. Forsythe?" + +"Oh, I hope it will!" cried Lois, fear trembling in the earnestness of +her voice. + +Gifford had stepped over the low box border to a stately bunch of +milk-white phlox. "Let's have some of this," he said, beginning to cut +the long stems close to the roots; "it always looks so well in the blue +jug." + +His back was toward her, and perhaps that gave him the courage to say, +with a suddenness that surprised himself, "Ah--does Mrs. Forsythe go +abroad with her son?" + +Even as he spoke he wondered why he had said it; certainly it was from no +interest in the sick lady. Was it because he hoped to betray Lois into +some expression of opinion concerning Mr. Forsythe's departure? He +despised himself if it were a test, but he did not stop to follow the +windings of his own motives. + +"Abroad?" Lois said, in a quick, breathless way. "Does he go abroad?" + +Gifford felt her excitement and suspense without seeing it, and he began +to clip the phlox with a recklessness which would have wrung Dr. Howe's +soul. + +"I--I believe so. I supposed you knew it." + +"How do you know it?" she demanded. + +"He told me," Gifford admitted. + +"Are you sure?" she said in a quavering voice. + +Gifford had turned, and was stepping carefully back among the plants, +sinking at every step into the soft fresh earth. He did not look at her, +as he reached the path. + +"Are you sure?" she said again. + +"Yes," he answered reluctantly, "yes, he is going; I don't know about his +mother." + +Here, to his dismay, he saw the color come and go on Lois's sad little +face, and her lip tremble, and her eyes fill, and then, dropping her +roses, she began to cry heartily. + +"Oh, Lois!" he exclaimed, aghast, and was at her side in a moment. But +she turned away, and, throwing her arm about an old locust-tree in the +path, laid her cheek against the rough bark, and hid her eyes. + +"Oh, don't cry, Lois," he besought her. "What a brute I was to have told +you in that abrupt way! Don't cry." + +"Oh, no," she said, "no, no, no! you must not say that--you--you do not +understand"-- + +"Don't," he said tenderly, "don't--Lois!" + +Lois put one hand softly on his arm, but she kept her face covered. +Gifford was greatly distressed. + +"I ought not to have told you in that way,"--Lois shook her +head,--"and--and I have no doubt he--they'll come to Ashurst and +tell you of their plans before they start." + +Lois seemed to listen. + +"Yes," Gifford continued, gaining conviction from his desire to help her, +"of course he will return." + +Lois had ceased to cry. "Do--do you think so?" + +"I'm sure of it," Gifford answered firmly; and even as he spoke, he had a +mental vision, in which he saw himself bringing Dick Forsythe back to +Ashurst, and planting him forcibly at Lois's feet. "I ought to have +considered," he went on, looking at her anxiously, "that in your +exhausted state it would be a shock to hear that your friends were going +so far away; though Europe isn't so very far, Lois. Of course they'll +come and tell you all about it before they go; probably they had their +own reasons for not doing it before they left Ashurst,--your health, +perhaps. But no doubt, no possible doubt, that Mr. Forsythe, at least, +will come back here to make any arrangements there may be about his +house, you know." + +This last was a very lame reason, and Gifford felt it, for the house had +been closed and the rent paid, and there was nothing more to do; but he +must say something to comfort her. + +Lois had quite regained her composure; even the old hopeless look had +returned. + +"I beg your pardon," she said. "I am very--foolish. I don't know why I am +so weak--I--I am still anxious about Mrs. Forsythe, you know; the long +journey for her"-- + +"Of course," he assured her. "I know how it startled you." + +She turned to go into the house, and Gifford followed her, first picking +up the neglected roses at her feet. + +"I do not know what you think of me," she said tremulously. + +"I only think you are not very strong," he answered tenderly, yet keeping +his eyes from her averted face; he felt that he had seen more than he had +a right to, already. His first thought was to protect her from herself; +she must not think she had betrayed herself, and fancy that Gifford had +guessed her engagement. He still hoped that, for the sake of their old +friendship, she would freely choose to tell him. But most of all, she +should not feel that she had shown despairing love for a man who +neglected and slighted her, and that her companion pitied her. He even +refused to let his thought turn to it. + +"You must not mind me, Lois. I quite understand--the suddenness of +hearing even the most--indifferent thing is enough to upset one when one +is so tired out with nursing, and all that. Don't mind me." + +"You are so good, Gifford," she said, with a sudden shy look from under +her wet lashes, and a little lightening of her heavy eyes. + +It was at least a joy to feel that he could comfort her, even though it +cut his own heart to do so, and the pain of it made him silent for a few +minutes. + +When they had reached the steps, Lois's face had settled into its white +apathy, which was almost despair. "I think I'll go in, Giff," she said. +"I am so tired." + +"Won't you fix the roses?" he asked. + +She shook her head. "No, I--I don't care anything about them; Sally can +do it. Just leave them on the steps." + +She gave him a wan little smile, and went into the house. Gifford stood +in the sunshine, with the roses and the white phlox, and looked after her +retreating figure. But in spite of his heartache, he would not leave the +flowers to die, so he went hunting about for something to put them in, +and finding the India china punch-bowl, with its soft blues and greens +of enamel, and twists of roses and butterflies over groups of tiny +mandarins, he brought it out, and laid his flowers in it, a little +clumsily, perhaps, and heedless that some of the stems stuck out; but +as he forgot the water, this did not so much matter. Then he carried it +into the hall, and put it down on the table under the square window, and +plodded home alone. + +The noon sunshine poured hot and bright through the little panes of +glass, and when Lois, later in the day, found the withered, drooping +roses and the hanging heads of the white phlox, she felt they were only +in keeping with all the rest of life. + +Even the sparkling day had darkened, and Dr. Howe's prophecy of rain had +been fulfilled. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +It grew quite chilly towards dusk, which gave Dr. Howe an excuse for +putting a match to the dusty pile of logs in the library fireplace. He +liked the snap and glow of the flames, and did not object to the mild, +soft heat; so he sat there long after Lois had gone wearily up-stairs to +bed, and the rectory was full of drowsy silence. + +Outside, the tree which leaned toward the house bent and swayed in the +wind, and scratched against the weather boards, while the rain came in a +quick dash against the glass, and then seemed to listen for an answer, +and waver, and retreat, and go sweeping down among the bushes in the +garden. + +The rector had not lighted his lamp; the faint, still light from two +candles in the row of silver candlesticks on the tall mantel was all he +wanted until he began to read. He was ready to do that later. A church +journal, with an account of a quarrel between a High-Church clergyman and +his Low-Church Bishop, was within reach of his hand, and the "Three +Guardsmen," in a ragged yellow cover, was astride his knee, but now he +was content to sit and think. He made a prosperous and comfortable +figure, reflected in the dim, dark mirror over the mantel, where the +candles shone back like stars in a pool at night. A white moth had found +its way into the house, and fluttered back and forth between the candles, +its little white ghost following it in the glass. The rector watched it +placidly. Even his thoughts were tranquil and comfortable, for he was +equally indifferent both to the bishop and his rebellious clergyman. +There was a cup of mulled wine simmering by the brass dogs, and the +fire sputtered and sung softly. Max, with his nose between his paws, +watched it with sleepy eyes. The little tinge of melancholy in Dr. Howe's +face did not interfere with a look of quiet satisfaction with life; +perhaps, indeed, it gave an added charm to his ruddy, handsome features. +At first he had been thinking of Mr. Denner; not of that distressing day +when he had told him of approaching death,--that was too painful for such +an hour, he meant to meet it later,--but of the sad vacancy the little +gentleman had left. + +Perhaps the consciousness of the thought from which he was hiding turned +his mind to Helen, and here all was satisfactory. There had been no +discussion, none of the theological argument that her letters had given +him cause to dread, which had made him feel a quiver in that solid rock +of custom that a long-quieted earthquake had once shaken to its centre. +He felt in a vague way that his niece was not quite so near and familiar, +and there was a subtile reserve, which did not show itself in words or +any check in the expression of her love, but which was certainly there. +Yet he did not analyze it; he did not care to realize that perhaps she +feared to speak of what was so real to her, because she knew he had no +help for her. Dr. Howe would have perfectly understood that this must +inevitably create a distance between them; but it would have been +extremely painful to have let this creep into his thoughts, just as it +would have been painful for him had she spoken of it; so he preferred to +say to himself that all was well. The child had gotten over all that +foolishness; he would have disliked to find fault with her, as he must +have done had she mentioned it; he was glad it was all forgotten. He was +glad, too, Lois was going to Lockhaven to see her. Poor little Lois! Ah, +poor Denner! Well, well, there are some very sad things in life. And he +lifted his mug of mulled wine, and drank thoughtfully, and then crossed +his legs again on the fender; and the rain beat and sobbed outside. + +He wondered if Lois's pale face had any connection with the departure of +the Forsythes. Mrs. Dale had hinted at it, though she had not dared to +quote Arabella Forsythe's triumphant secret. Then he remembered how +disappointed he had been that nothing came of that affair. But on the +whole it would have been very lonely at the rectory without Lois. It was +just as well. Dr. Howe generally found that most things were "just as +well." Indeed, he had been heard to say that, with a good digestion, any +sorrow showed itself to have been best inside three years. Perhaps he had +forgotten for the moment that he was a widower; but at all events, he +said it. + +So he blew his logs to a brighter blaze, and drank the rest of his mulled +wine, stirring it round and round for the nutmeg and spice, and said to +himself, listening to the beat of the rain as he pulled Max's silky ears, +that it was the worst June storm he remembered. Perhaps that was why he +did not hear the front door open and close with a bang against the gust +which tried to force its way into the house, blowing out the hall lights, +and sending a dash of rain into Sally's face. + +"Lord!" cried Sally, with a shrill scream, "it's Miss Helen's ghost!" + +The face she saw was ghost-like indeed. It was wet and streaming with +rain, and the dark eyes were strange and unseeing. + +"Do not tell Miss Lois I am here," the pale lips said. "Where is my +uncle? I must see him." + +Sally could only point speechlessly to the library door. Helen went +swiftly towards it. She seemed to hesitate a moment before she entered, +and then she opened it, and closed it again behind her, standing silently +in front of it. + +Dr. Howe looked up calmly, expecting to see Sally; but the sight of that +still figure, with eyes which looked at him with a curious fixedness, +sent the color from his face in one moment of actual fright. "Helen!" he +cried, springing to his feet. "Good heavens! child, what is it? What is +the matter?" + +"I have come back," she answered, uttering each word with that peculiar +slowness one notices in a very sick person, who tries to hear himself +speak. + +Dr. Howe had turned to light the lamp, but his hand shook, and Helen +absently steadied the shade until he raised the wick, and then fumbled +for his glasses, and turned to look at her. It was a relief to hear her +speak. + +"My dear," he said, his voice still tremulous, "you alarmed me terribly. +Why, how wet you are!" He had laid his hand upon her shoulder to help her +take off her wraps. "Bless my soul, child, you're drenched! Did you come +in an open carriage? But why are you here? Did you miss your train?" + +Even as he spoke, before she silently shook her head, he knew she would +have been back by noon had she missed her train. + +Max had come and sniffed suspiciously at her skirts before he recognized +her, and then he rubbed his head against her knee, and reached up to be +patted. She let her hand rest a moment on his head, and then with cold, +stiff fingers tried to help her uncle take off her cloak, and lift her +bonnet from her dripping hair. She made no effort to wipe the rain from +her face, and Dr. Howe, with his big handkerchief, tried clumsily to do +it for her. + +"What is the matter, my dear?" the rector was saying nervously. "Is +anything wrong with Mr. Ward? Have you had bad news? Tell me, my +darling; you distress me by your silence." + +Helen's throat seemed dry, and she moved her lips once or twice before +the words came. "I have come back," she answered slowly, looking with +absent eyes at Max, who was furtively licking her hand. "I have had a +letter from John. So I have come back. I am very tired." + +She looked wearily around, and swayed a little from side to side. Dr. +Howe caught her in his arms. "My dear," he said, in a frightened voice, +"my dear--you are very ill. I'll fetch Jean--I'll send for Adele!" + +Helen laid her shaking hand upon his arm. "No, no,--I am not ill. I am +only tired. I walked from Mercer, I think; I don't quite remember. Please +do not call any one, uncle." + +In spite of the wildness of her words, it was not a delirious woman who +was speaking to him, as he had thought. "Try and tell me, then, what it +all means," he said; "or stay,--first let me get you a glass of wine." + +He went shuffling along in his slippers to the dining-room, and came back +with a wineglass and the little fat decanter, with the silver collar +clinking about its neck. He filled the glass, and held it to her lips, +and then stood and looked at her as she drank, his lower lip thrust out, +and perplexity and anxiety written on every feature. + +Helen handed the glass back to him, and rose. "Thank you, uncle Archie," +she said. "I--I must go up-stairs now. I am tired." + +"But, my dear child," he remonstrated, "my dear Helen, you must tell me +what all this means, first." + +She looked at him entreatingly. "Not now,--oh, not to-night." + +"But, Helen," he said, "I can't be kept in suspense, you know." + +He tried to put his arm about her, but she pushed it a little aside and +shook her head. "I will tell you," she said, while Dr. Howe, not +understanding his repulse, stood with parted lips and frowning eyebrows, +polishing his glasses on the skirt of his dressing-gown. Helen rubbed her +hand across her forehead. + +"I am a little confused," she began, "but--there is not much to say. John +has written that I must not come back to Lockhaven. I shall never see my +husband again, uncle Archie," she added piteously. + +"Why--why--why!" cried Dr. Howe. "Bless my soul, what's all this? Mr. +Ward says my niece is not to return to her husband! Oh, come, now, come!" + +"Need we say anything more to-night?" Helen said. "I--I cannot talk." + +Nothing could have shown Dr. Howe's affection for his niece more than the +way in which he said, looking at her in silence for a moment, "My child, +you shall do just what you please. Come up-stairs now, and get to bed. It +will be a mercy if you're not laid up with a cold to-morrow. Would you +rather not see Lois? Well, then, Jean shall come and make you +comfortable." + +But Dr. Howe, shuffling over the bare stairs, and fuming to himself, +"What's all this! Nonsense, I say, perfect nonsense!" could not fail to +arouse Lois, and she called out drowsily, "Good-night, father, dear. Is +anything the matter?" + +"Nothing,--nothing!" cried the rector testily. "Go to sleep. Come, Helen, +take my arm, and let me help you." + +"Helen!" Lois exclaimed, wide awake, and springing from her bed to rush +to her cousin. "What is it?" she gasped, as she caught sight of the +group. + +"Nothing, I tell you," said the rector. "Go to bed at once; you'll take +cold." + +But Helen, seeing the distressed face, put her hands on Lois's shoulders, +and pushed her gently back into her room. "I had to come back, Lois," she +said. "I will tell you why, to-morrow. I am too tired, now. Don't speak +to me, please, dear." + +The rector had hurried down the entry to find Jean, who indeed needed no +rousing, for Sally had told her who had come. "Let me know when Miss +Helen is comfortable," he said. + +And when the old woman, awed by Helen's still, white face, told him his +niece was in bed, he came up again, holding the decanter by the throat, +and begging her to take another glass of wine. But she only turned her +head away and asked to be alone. She would not say anything more, and did +not seem to hear his assurances that it would be "all right in the +morning," and that "she must not worry." + +It was the kindest thing to her, but it was very hard for the rector to +go down to his library still in ignorance. The spell of peace had been +rudely broken, and his fire was out. He lifted Helen's bonnet, still +heavy with rain, and laid it on the cloak she had thrown across a chair, +and then stood and looked at them as though they could explain the +mystery of her return. The tall clock on the stairs struck eleven, and +outside the storm beat and complained. + +Dr. Howe was up early the next morning. He went through the silent house +before Sally had crept yawning from her room, and, throwing open the +doors at each end of the hall, let a burst of sunshine and fresh wind +into the darkness and stillness. Then he went out, and began to walk up +and down the porch as a sort of outlet to his impatience. Over and over +he said, "What can it be?" Indeed, Dr. Howe had asked himself that +question even in his dreams. "I hope there's no woman at the bottom +of it," he thought. "But no; Ward's a fool, but he is a good man." + +He stopped once, to lift a trailing vine and twist it about a support. +The rain had done great damage in the night: the locust blossoms had been +torn from the trees, and the lawn was white with them; the soft, wet +petals of the climbing roses were scattered upon the path by the side of +the house; and a long branch of honeysuckle, wrenched from its trellis, +was prone upon the porch. These small interests quieted the rector, and +he was able soon to reason himself into the belief that his niece's +return was a trifling affair, perhaps a little uncomfortable, and +certainly silly, but he would soon make it all right; so that when he saw +her coming slowly down-stairs, with Lois creeping after her, almost +afraid to speak, he was able to greet her very tranquilly. + +"Are you rested, my child? After breakfast, we'll have a good talk, and +everything shall be straightened out." + +Breakfast was a dreary affair. Helen's abstraction was too profound for +her to make even the pretense of eating. Once or twice, when Lois's voice +pierced through the clouds and reached her heart, she looked up, and +tried to reply. But they were all glad when it was over, and the rector +put his arm gently over his niece's shoulders, and drew her into the +library. + +"If any one comes, Lois," he said, "you had better just say Helen changed +her mind about going yesterday, and has come back for a few days." + +"No," interrupted Helen slowly. "You had better say what is the truth, +Lois. I have come back to Ashurst to stay." + +"Now, my dear," remonstrated the rector when they were in the library, +and he had shut the door, "that is really very unwise. These little +affairs, little misunderstandings, are soon cleared up, and they are even +forgotten by the people most interested in them. But outsiders never +forget. So it is very unwise to speak of them." + +Helen had seated herself on the other side of his writing-table, brushing +away the litter of papers and unanswered letters, so that she could lean +her elbow on it, and now she looked steadily across at him. + +"Uncle," she said, calmly "you do not know. There is no misunderstanding. +It is just what I told you last night: he thinks it best that I should +leave him indefinitely. I know that it is forever. Yes, it seems to him +best. And I am sure, feeling as he does, he is right. Yes, John is +right." + +Dr. Howe threw himself back in his revolving chair, and spun half-way +round. "Helen," he said, "this is folly; you must talk like a sensible +woman. You know you cannot leave your husband. I suppose you and Ward, +like all the rest of the world that is married, have had some falling +out; and now, being young, you think your lives are over. Nonsense! +Bless my soul, child, your aunt and I had dozens of them, and all as +silly as this, I'll be bound. But I'm sure we did not take the public +into our confidence by declaring that we would live apart. I should have +given you credit for more sense, indeed I should." + +Helen did not notice the reprimand. + +"Now tell me all about it," he continued. "You know you can trust me, and +I'll write your husband a letter which will make things clear." + +Helen shook her head wearily. "You will not understand. Nothing can be +done; it is as fixed as--death. We can neither of us alter it and be +ourselves. Oh, I have tried and tried to see some way out of it, until it +seems as if my soul were tired." + +"I did not intend to be severe, my child," the rector said, with +remorseful gentleness, "but in one way it is a more serious thing than +you realize. I don't mean this foolishness of a separation; that will all +be straightened out in a day or two. But we do not want it gossiped +about, and your being here at all, after having started home, looks +strange; and of course, if you say anything about having had a--a falling +out with Ward, it will make it ten times worse. But you haven't told me +what it is?" + +"Yes, I'll tell you," she answered, "and then perhaps you will see that +it is useless to talk about it. I must just take up the burden of life as +well as I can." + +"Go on," said the rector. + +"John has been much distressed lately," Helen began, looking down at her +hands, clasping each other until the skin was white across the knuckles, +"because I have not believed in eternal punishment. He has felt that my +eternal happiness depended upon holding such a belief." Dr. Howe looked +incredulous. "Some weeks ago, one of his elders came to him and told him +I was spreading heresy in the church, and damning my own soul and the +souls of others who might come to believe as I did,--you know I told Mrs. +Davis that her husband had not gone to hell,--and he reproached John for +neglecting me and his church too; for John, to spare me, had not preached +as he used to, on eternal punishment. It almost killed him, uncle," she +said, and her voice, which had given no hint of tears since her return, +grew unsteady. "Oh, he has suffered so! and he has felt that it was his +fault, a failure in his love, that I did not believe what he holds to be +true." + +"Heavens!" cried the rector explosively, "heresy? Is this the nineteenth +century?" + +"Since I have been away," Helen went on, without noticing the +interruption, "they have insisted that I should be sessioned,--dealt +with, they call it. John won't let me come back to that; but if that were +his only reason, we could move away from Lockhaven. He has a nobler +reason: he feels that this unbelief of mine will bring eternal misery to +my soul, and he would convert me by any means. He has tried all that he +knows (for oh, we have discussed it endlessly, uncle Archie!),--argument, +prayer, love, tenderness, and now--sorrow." + +The rector was sitting very straight in his chair, his plump hands +gripping the arms of it, and his lips compressed with anger, while he +struggled for patience to hear this preposterous story through. + +"He makes me suffer," Helen continued, "that I may be saved. And indeed I +don't see how he can do anything else. If a man believes his wife will be +damned for all eternity unless she accepts certain doctrines, I should +think he would move heaven and earth to make her accept them. And John +does believe that. In denying reprobation, I deny revelation, he says, +and also the Atonement, upon which salvation depends. So now you see +why he says I shall not come back to him until I have found the truth." + +Then Dr. Howe burst into a torrent of indignant remonstrance. A clergyman +send his wife from him because she does not believe some dogma! Were we +back in the dark ages? It was too monstrously absurd! If the idiots he +preached to forced him to do it, let him leave them; let him come to +Ashurst. The rector would build him a meeting-house, and he could preach +his abominable doctrine to anybody who was fool enough to go and hear +him. + +Dr. Howe was walking hastily up and down the room, gesticulating as he +talked. Helen's patient eyes followed him. Again and again she tried to +point out to him her husband's intense sincerity, and the necessity which +his convictions forced upon him. But the rector refused to think Mr. +Ward's attitude worthy of serious consideration. "The man is insane!" +he cried. "Send his wife away from him to force her into a certain +belief? Madness,--I tell you, madness!" + +"I cannot hear you speak so of my husband," Helen said very quietly, but +it caused Dr. Howe to conceal his wrath. + +"He'll think differently in a day or two," he said. "This nonsense won't +last." + +Then Helen, having exhausted all her arguments to show that John was +immovable, said, "Let me read you what he says himself; then you will +understand, perhaps, how real it all is to him, and how he cannot help +it." + +"Bah!" cried Dr. Howe, and certainly it was trying to have Helen attempt +to excuse such folly. "I've no patience with--There, there! I didn't +mean to lose my temper, but bless my soul, this is the worst thing I ever +knew. See here, Helen, if the man is so determined, you'll have to change +your views, or go back to your old views, I mean,--I don't know what you +do believe,--that's all there is about it." + +Helen was unfolding John's letter, and she looked up at her uncle with a +fleeting smile. "Change my views so that I can go back? Do you think that +would satisfy John? Do you think I could? Why, uncle Archie, do you +believe in eternal damnation? I know you pray to be delivered from it in +the Litany, but do you believe in it?" + +"That has nothing to do with the question, Helen," he answered, frowning, +"and of course I believe that the consequences of sin are eternal." + +"You know that is not what the prayer means," she insisted; "you have +to put your private interpretation upon it. Well, it is my private +interpretation which John thinks is sin, and sin which will receive what +it denies." + +"Well, you must believe it, then," the rector said, striking his fist on +the arm of his chair; "it is the wife's place to yield; and while I +acknowledge it is all folly, you must give in." + +"You mean," she said, "that I must say I believe it. Can I change a +belief? You know I cannot, uncle Archie. And when you hear what John +says, you will see I must be true, no matter where truth leads me." + +Helen knew every word of that letter by heart. She had read it while she +drove towards the depot, and when she dismissed the carriage it was with +a vague idea of flying to Lockhaven, and brushing all this cobweb of +unreason away, and claiming her right to take her place at her husband's +side. But as she sat in the station, waiting, every sentence of the +letter began to burn into her heart, and she slowly realized that she +could not go back. The long day passed, and the people, coming and going, +looked curiously at her; one kindly woman, seeing the agony in her white +face, came up and asked her if she were ill, and could she help her? +Helen stared at her like a person in a dream, and shook her head. Then, +in a numb sort of way, she began to understand that she must go back to +Ashurst. She did not notice that it had begun to rain, or think of a +carriage, but plodded, half blind and dazed, over the country road to her +old home, sometimes sitting down, not so much to rest as to take the +letter from its envelope again and read it. + +She looked at it now, with a sudden gasp of pain; it was as though a +dagger had been turned in a wound. It seemed too sacred to read to Dr. +Howe, but it was just to John that it should be heard, even if only +partly understood; and it was also just to her--for Helen had one of +those healthy souls which could be just to itself. With the letter had +come a clear and logical statement of the doctrine of reprobation, +together with the arguments and reasons for holding it; besides this, +there was a list of books which he meant to send her. All these she +handed to her uncle. + +"I will not read you all he writes," she said, "but even a little will +show you the hopelessness of thinking I can ever go back to him. He tells +me first of a meeting of his Session, where the elders told him they +wished to have me summoned before them, and of another visit from Mr. +Dean, of whom I spoke to you, insisting that John had been faithless in +his duty to his church and me. 'I could only listen,' he writes, 'in +assenting anguish, when he charged me with having been careless of your +spiritual life; and when he said that the sin of your unbelief had crept +from soul to soul, like an insidious and fatal disease unseen by the eyes +of the church, until spiritual death, striking first one and then +another, roused us to our danger. How can I write that word "us," as +though I arrayed myself with them against you, dearest! Yet it is not +you, but this fatal unbelief! They charged me, these elders, whose place +it is to guard the spiritual life of the church, with having preached +peace to them, when there was no peace, and leaving unspoken the words of +warning that eternal death awaits unrepented sin. They told me Davis had +died in his sin, not having had the fear of hell before his eyes to +convert his soul. And, Helen, I know it is all true! When they insisted +that you, like any other member of the church, should be brought before +the Session, that they might reason with you, and by the blessing of God +convert your soul to a saving knowledge of the truth, or at least bind +you to silence for the sake of others, I would not listen. Here I felt my +right was greater than theirs, for you are like my own soul. I told them +I would not permit it; I knew it would but drive you further from grace. +I cannot think I sinned in this, though I apparently neglect a means of +salvation for you; but I could not subject you to that,--I could not put +your soul into their hands. I distrust myself (I have need, having loved +earthly happiness more than your immortal peace, and called it wisdom), +yet I think I am right in this. God grant that the means of grace which I +choose instead, which will crucify my own heart, may, by his blessing, +save your soul. And I have faith to believe it will. The promises of God +fail not. + +"'Oh, Helen, if I loved you less! Sometimes, in these two weeks, while +this purpose has been growing up in my mind, I have shrunk back, and +cried that I could not drink of the cup, and in the depth of human +weakness I have felt, if I loved her less, I could not do what I have to +do, and so the pain would be spared. But love is too mighty for me. I +shall save you! When I think of the months since we were married, which +I have kept unruffled by a single entreaty that you would turn from +darkness into light, my eyes are blasted by the sight of my own sin; +despair and death lay hold upon me. But He has had mercy upon me. He has +shown me one way in which you shall be saved, and by his strength I am +not disobedient to the heavenly vision. Reason and argument have not +shown you the light. Joy and peace have not led you to it. There is one +other path, beloved, which I have faith to believe shall not fail. It is +sorrow. Sorrow can bring the truth home to you as no other thing will. +The relentless pressure of grief will force you to seek for light. It +will admit of no evasion; it will receive no subtilty; it will bring you +face to face with the eternal verities; it will save your soul. And what +sorrow, Helen, can come to you such as making me suffer? And is there a +pang which can tear my soul in this world like absence from my beloved? I +trample my own happiness under my feet. Too long I have been weak, too +long I have loved you with but half my nature; now I am strong. Therefore +I say, before God, for your soul's sake, you shall not see my face until +you have found the truth. This pain, which will be to me but the just +punishment for my sin, will be to you like some sharp and bitter medicine +which shall heal you of what would otherwise bring eternal death. Even as +I write I am filled with strength from God to save you. For God has shown +me the way. And it shall be soon,--I know it shall be soon. The Lord's +hand is not shortened that it cannot save. He has revealed to me the one +last way of showing you the truth, and He will lighten your eyes. Yet, +oh, my love, my wife, help me to be strong for you,--my Helen, help me in +these days or weeks of waiting. + +"'There is one mercy vouchsafed to me who am all unworthy of the least +favor: it is the knowledge of your understanding it all,--the bitter +distress, the absolute conviction, and the necessity which follows it. +You see what the temptation was to fly with you to some spot where your +unbelief could not injure any one, and there work and pray for your +salvation; leaving these souls, which my neglect of you and so of them, +has allowed to drift deep into sin. You will understand that, believing +(oh, knowing, Helen, knowing) that salvation depends upon a right +conception of truth, I have no choice but to force you by any means to +save your soul. This knowledge makes me strong. So I am set, with +strength which you yourself give me, to inflict this suffering upon you. +Take this absence and use its bitterness to sting you to search for +truth. Take its anguish to God. Pray for light, pray for the Spirit of +God. And when light comes--Oh, love, the thought of that joy seems too +great to bear except before the throne of God! I shall not write again; +you will meet this grief in the solitude of your own soul, where even I +dare not come to break the silence which may be the voice of God. Write +me any questionings, that I may help those first faint stirrings of the +Holy Spirit, but unless questionings come I shall be silent.'" + +Helen had not read all of this aloud, and there was yet more, on which +she looked a moment before she folded the letter. The closing words were +full of a human tenderness too divine and holy for any heart but her own; +a faint smile crept about her lips for a moment, as she leaned out of her +distress to rest upon her husband's love, and then she woke again to the +present. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +But the rector was not softened by John's letter; there was a curl of +contempt upon his lip which colored his words, though with Helen's quiet +eyes upon him he forced himself to speak calmly. + +"You see he expects you to return. This idea of yours, of a separation, +is nonsense. I told you so in the first place. Now the only thing to do +is to go to Lockhaven, and just say that your convictions are immovable +(if they are, though it would be wiser to make a concession, Helen), so +there is no use in experimenting in this absurd way. Absurd? Why +it is--it is"-- + +Dr. Howe's face was crimson, and he could find no epithet strong enough +to use. + +"Do you suppose I have not told John that I could not change?" Helen said +sadly, ignoring the suggestion of a concession; "and to go back, uncle +Archie,--you don't know John! He thinks I will come back,--you are right +there,--but only because he thinks this plan of his is an inspiration +from God, and will lead me to believe as he wishes. It will not, and you +know it. But John would feel that he was doubting God to let me come, if +the promise were unfulfilled. So I shall never return. Oh, must we +discuss it? It is fixed; it can never be changed. If only it could be +understood at once! There is no hope." + +Dr. Howe rose, and walked about the room a moment, breathing hard, and +swallowing once or twice, as though to choke some hot words. Then he sat +down, and began to argue. + +First, he tried to prove to Helen that there was a hell, but +unconsciously he veered to assertions that it made no difference, anyhow; +that of course the doctrine of eternal damnation was preposterous, and +that she must persuade Mr. Ward to drop the subject. He reasoned and +threatened, then he expostulated and implored, ending all with, "You must +go back, and at once." + +Helen had been silent, but when he finished she said, so absently that he +knew she had not been listening, "Shall I explain why I have come back, +or would you prefer to do it?" + +"Explain?" cried the rector. "What are you thinking of? Of course not! It +is not to be known." + +"It must be known, I think," Helen answered calmly. "I am here, and I +shall stay here, so it seems to me better to disarm gossip by telling the +truth at once." + +Dr. Howe sunk back in his chair, and looked at his niece in speechless +annoyance. + +"You had better let me tell them, uncle Archie," she said simply; "it +will be less unpleasant for you." + +Then he regained his voice: "It is not to be told, Helen. I shall not +allow it. If you have no sense, I'll take the matter into my own hands. +If people choose to gossip about your being here a few days or a +week,--it may take a week for this folly to blow over,--why, they can, +that's all. I will not--you hear me, Helen?--I will not enter into any +absurd explanations." + +Helen lifted her heavy eyes, and looked at him a moment, and then she +said, "Aunt Deely?" + +Dr. Howe suffered a sudden collapse. "Well, I--ah--well, perhaps Adele. I +suppose Adele must know it. I don't know but what her common sense may be +good for you, my dear. Yes, I'll tell Adele." + +"I should like to have Lois understand it," Helen said. + +"Well," Dr. Howe conceded, "yes--I suppose you might mention it to +Lois--because"-- + +"I don't want her to think anything wrong of John," Helen explained. + +Dr. Howe stared at her blankly, but did not burst into wrathful +exclamations; he was actually exhausted in mind and body; this +controversy had been too much for him. But that remark of Helen's ended +it. She went slowly up-stairs, clinging to the balustrade as though she +needed some support, yet she had not spoken of being tired. She passed +Lois, sitting on the window-seat which ran across the broad landing, but +did not seem to see her, and there was something in her cousin's face +which kept the young girl dumb. + +Dr. Howe did not go to Dale house until the next day; he vaguely hoped +something would turn up before his sister discovered Helen's presence at +the rectory, which would make this humiliating confession unnecessary. +But nothing happened except the arrival of a letter from John Ward to Dr. +Howe, explaining his convictions and reiterating his determination. + +Helen kept in her own room that day and the next, so Gifford Woodhouse, +who came to the rectory, did not guess her presence, since Lois had been +admonished to be silent concerning it, and no one else chanced to call. +Of course the servants knew. Dr. Howe ground his teeth as he reflected +that Sally would probably tattle the whole thing; the more so, if she +were charged not to mention it. Yet he was rather relieved, when he went +to tell his sister, to find that she knew the main fact already. + +"Helen's back again!" she cried as soon as she saw him. + +He found her in the big cool dining-room, cutting out pieces of paper for +the tops of her pots of strawberry jam, and fringing them delicately with +a little pair of shining scissors. + +"Well, Archibald," she said, looking at him over her glasses, as he +sat down at the other end of the polished table, "this is pretty hot, +isn't it? I'll have Betty bring you a sangaree; there's a fan on the +window-sill, if you want it; I never have patience to use a fan. Henry's +in his library. I declare, it is as cold as a vault in that room; but +you'd better not go down. We Howes are too rheumatic for such damp +places." + +Betty brought the sangaree, and the rector diverted himself while he put +off the evil moment of explanation, by clinking the ice against the +glass. + +"Betty was down in the village last night," Mrs. Dale was saying, "and +she saw your Sally, and she told her Helen did not get off on Monday. +What in the world does that mean? I do dislike to see the child so +changeable. I suppose she wants to wait and go with Lois, after all? But +why didn't she make up her mind before she started? And all this talk +about getting back to her husband! Oh, these young wives,--they don't +mind leaving their husbands!" + +"Yes, she's back," said the rector gloomily. + +"What do you mean?" Mrs. Dale asked quickly, for his tone did not escape +her. + +Then he told her the whole story. There was a moment's silence when he +had finished. At last Mrs. Dale said violently, "Well!" and again, +"Well!" After that she rose, and brushing the clippings of paper from her +black silk apron, she said, "We will go and talk this over in the parlor, +Archibald." + +The rector followed her, miserably. Though he had a clear conscience, in +that he had treated the ridiculous affair with the utmost severity, and +had done all he could to make Helen return to her husband, he yet +trembled as he thought how his sister would reproach him. ("Though I +can't help it!" he said to himself. "Heaven knows I used every argument +short of force. I couldn't compel a reluctant wife to return to an +unwilling husband, especially when she thinks the husband is all right.") +"You see, she approves of Ward," he groaned. + +Mrs. Dale sat down, but the rector walked nervously about, jingling some +keys in his pocket. + +"It is very distressing," he said. + +"Distressing?" cried Mrs. Dale. "It is worse than distressing. It is +disgraceful, that's what it is,--disgraceful! What will Deborah Woodhouse +say, and the Draytons? I tell you, Archibald, it must be put a stop to, +at once!" + +"That is very easy to say," began Dr. Howe. + +"It is very easy to do, if there's a grain of sense in your family. Just +send your niece"-- + +"She's your niece, too, Adele," he interrupted. + +But Mrs. Dale did not pause--"back to her husband. You ought to have +taken her yesterday morning. It is probably all over Ashurst by this +time!" + +"But you forget," objected Dr. Howe, "he won't let her come; you can't +change his views by saying Helen must go back." + +"But what does it matter to her what his views are?" said Mrs. Dale. + +"It matters to him what her views are," answered Dr. Howe despondently. +Somehow, since he had begun to talk to his sister, he had grown almost as +hopeless as Helen. + +"Then Helen must change her views," Mrs. Dale said promptly. "I have no +patience with women who set up their own Ebenezers. A woman should be in +subjection to her own husband, I say,--and so does St. Paul. In my young +days we were taught to love, honor, and obey. Helen needs to be reminded +of her duty, and I'll see that she is." + +"Well, I wish you success," said the rector grimly. + +"And I'll have it!" Mrs. Dale retorted. + +"But you don't take into consideration," Dr. Howe said, "that Helen will +not say one thing when she thinks another. How can you change a person's +belief? I have been all over it, Adele. It is perfectly useless!" + +The brother and sister looked at each other a moment silently; then Mrs. +Dale said, "Well, if you ask my advice"-- + +"I didn't; there's no use. Helen will be her own adviser, you can depend +upon that. I only just wanted you to know the facts. No outsider can +direct the affairs of a man and woman who are entirely determined." + +"I am not an outsider," returned Mrs. Dale, "though you can call yourself +one, if you choose. And I am going to give you advice, and I hope you'll +be sensible enough to take it. You have just got to go and see this Mr. +Ward, and tell him he must take Helen back; tell him we cannot have such +things in our family. A wife separated from her husband,--why, good +gracious, just think of it, Archibald!" + +"Do you suppose I haven't thought of it?" demanded the rector. + +"And Helen must go," continued Mrs. Dale, "belief or no belief." + +Her brother shook his head, and sighed. + +"I don't believe it will do any good for me to see him, but of course +I shall go to Lockhaven unless I get a favorable answer to my letter. +I wrote him yesterday. But do you imagine that any talk of our feelings +is going to move a man like Ward? His will is like iron. I saw that in +his letter to Helen. I suppose it pains him to do this. I suppose he does +suffer, in a way. But if he can contemplate her distress unmoved, do you +think anything I can urge will change him? He'll wait for her conversion, +if it takes her whole life." + +"But Helen has been confirmed," said Mrs. Dale, in a bewildered way; +"what more does he want?" + +"He wants her to be converted, I tell you," cried her brother, "and he's +bound to bring it about! He uses the illustration of giving medicine to a +sick child to insure its recovery, no matter at what cost of pain to the +child or the giver." + +"But isn't it the same thing?" persisted Mrs. Dale: +"converted--confirmed? We don't use such expressions in the Church, +but it is the same thing." + +"'Experience a change of heart,' Ward says in his letter; 'be convicted +of the sin of unbelief'!" the rector said contemptuously, and ignoring +his sister's question; "but conversion with him merely means a belief in +hell, so far as I can make out." + +"Well, of course Helen is all wrong not to believe in hell," said Mrs. +Dale promptly; "the Prayer-Book teaches it, and she must. I'll tell her +so. All you have to do is to see this Mr. Ward and tell him she will; and +just explain to him that she has been confirmed,--we don't use those +Methodistical expressions in the Church. Perhaps the sect he belongs to +does, but one always thinks of them as rather belonging to the lower +classes, you know. I suppose we ought not to expect anything else from +such a person,--who ever heard of his people? I always said the marriage +would turn out badly," she added triumphantly. "You remember, I told you +so?" + +The rector sighed. After all, Mrs. Dale did not help him. It was useless +to try to impress her with the theological side of the matter, as she +only returned with fresh vigor to the charge that it was a disgrace to +the family. So he rose to go, saying, "Well, I'll wait for Ward's letter, +and if he persists in this insanity I'll start for Lockhaven. You might +see Helen, and see what you can do." + +As Mrs. Dale began in her positive way to say how he ought to talk to +"this man," Mr. Dale came in. + +"I thought I heard your voice," he said to his brother-in-law, "and I +came up"--he looked deprecatingly at his wife--"to ask you to step down +and have a pipe. I want to speak to you about Denner's books." + +But before Dr. Howe could answer, Mrs. Dale poured forth all the +troublesome and disgraceful story of the "separated husband and wife." +Mr. Dale listened intently; once he flourished his red handkerchief +across his eyes as he blew his nose. When he did this, he scattered some +loose tobacco about, and Mrs. Dale stopped to reprimand him. "I tell +you," she ended emphatically, "it is this new-fangled talk of woman's +rights that has done all this. What need has Helen of opinions of her +own? A woman ought to be guided by her husband in everything!" + +"You see it is pretty bad, Henry," said the rector. + +"It is,--it is," said the older man, his mild eyes glistening; "but oh, +Archibald, how he loves her!" + +"Loves her?" cried the other two together. + +"Yes," continued Mr. Dale slowly; "one feels as if we ought not even to +discuss it, for we are scarcely capable of understanding it. The place +whereon we stand is holy ground." + +"Henry," said his wife, "there's no fool like an old fool. You don't +know what you are talking about." + +But when Dr. Howe, softening a little since Mr. Dale did not abuse John +Ward, said he must tell Helen that,--it would please her,--Mrs. Dale +begged him to do nothing of the sort. + +"It would be just like her to consider the whole affair a unique mode of +expressing affection. We had better try to show her it is a disgrace to +the family. Love, indeed! Well, I don't understand love like that!" + +"No," Mr. Dale responded, "no, I suppose not. But, my dear, don't you +wish you did?" + +When Dr. Howe told Helen of his plan of going to Lockhaven, she tried +to show him that it was useless; but as she saw his determination, she +ceased to oppose him. She would have spared John if she could (and she +knew how impossible it was that the rector could move her husband), yet +she felt that her family had a right to insist upon a personal +explanation, and to make an effort, however futile, to induce her husband +to take her home. In the mean time, they waited for an answer to the +rector's letter. Helen had written, but she knew no answer would come to +her. She understood too well that sweet and gentle nature, which yielded +readily in small things, and was possessed of invincible determination in +crises, to hope that John could change. Yet she had written; she had +shared her hopelessness as well as her grief with him, when she told him +how impossible it was for her to think as he did. She showed how fast and +far she had drifted into darkness and unbelief since she had left him, +yet she held out no hope that a return to him could throw any light into +those eternal shadows. "I understand it all," she had written, stopping +to comfort him even while she told him how futile was his pain and hers, +"and oh, how you must suffer, my darling, but it cannot be helped unless +you free yourself from your convictions. Perhaps that will come some +time; until then, you can only be true to yourself. But I understand it +all,--I know." + +Those days of waiting were hard to bear. The distance between her uncle +and herself had suddenly widened; and she could not see that beneath his +irritation there was really a very genuine sympathy. + +She had vaguely hoped that Lois would comfort her, for one turns +instinctively in grief to the nearest loving thing, and she knew her +cousin loved her. Yet Lois had not been able to understand, and Helen +would hear no words of sympathy which were not as much for John as for +herself. + +It was not until Thursday that she had told Lois why she had come back. +They were in their pleasant sitting-room, Lois walking restlessly about, +with such puzzled expectation on her face that its white sadness was +almost banished. Helen sat with her hands clasped loosely in her lap, and +leaning her head against the window. Below, there was the bloom and glory +of the garden, butterflies darted through the sunshine, and the air was +full of the honeyed hum of the bees. But the silence of the room seemed +only a breathless anxiety, which forbade rest of mind or body; and so +Helen had roused herself, and tried to tell her cousin what it all meant; +but even as she talked she felt Lois's unspoken condemnation of her +husband, and her voice hardened, and she continued with such apparent +indifference Lois was entirely deceived. "So you see," she ended, "I +cannot go back to Lockhaven." + +Lois, walking back and forth, as impatient as her father might have been, +listened, her eyes first filling with tears, and then flashing angrily. +She threw herself on her knees beside Helen, as she finished, and put her +arms about her cousin's waist, kissing her listless hands in a passion of +sympathy. "Oh, my dear!" she cried, her cheeks wet with tears, "how +dreadful--how horrible! Oh, Helen, darling, my poor darling!" + +Lois did not stop to consider the theological side of the matter, which +was a relief to Helen. She tried to quiet the young girl's distress, +holding her bright head against her breast, and soothing her with gentle +words. + +"If I were you," Lois said at last, "I would go back to Lockhaven; I +would _go_, if it had to be in disguise!"-- + +"Not if you loved John," Helen answered. + +"How can you bear it?" Lois whispered, looking up into the calm face with +a sort of awe which checked her tears. "It is so cruel, Helen, you cannot +forgive him." + +"There is nothing to forgive; I hoped you would understand that, Lois. +John cannot do anything else, don't you see? Why, I would not love him as +I do, if, having such convictions, he was not true to them. He must be +true before anything else." + +Lois was sitting on the floor in front of her, clasping her knees with +her arms, and rocking back and forth. "Well," she cried hotly, "I don't +understand anything about his convictions, but I tell you what it is, +Helen, I do understand how hard it is for you! And I can never forgive +him, if you can. It is all very well to think about truth, but it seems +to me he ought to think about you." + +"But don't you see," Helen explained, still vaguely hoping that Lois +would understand, "he thinks only of me? Why, Lois, it is all for me." + +Lois's face was flushed with excitement. "I don't care!" she cried, "it +is cruel--cruel--cruel!" + +Helen looked at her steadily a moment, and then she said patiently, "The +motive is what makes cruelty, Lois. And can't you see that it is only +because of his love that he does this? If he loved me less, he could not +do it." + +"Heavens!" Lois exclaimed, springing to her feet, "I wish he loved you +less, then! No, there is no use saying things like that, Helen; he is +narrow and bigoted,--he is a cruel fanatic." She did not see that Helen +had half risen from her chair, and was watching her with gleaming eyes. +"He actually prides himself on being able to make you suffer,--you read +me that yourself out of his letter. He's a bad man, and I'm glad you've +done with him"-- + +She would have said more, but Helen had followed her swiftly across the +room, and grasping her arm until the girl cried out with pain, she put +her hand over those relentless young lips. "Hush!" she cried, in a +terrible voice; "do not dare to speak so to me! If I hear such words +again, I shall leave this house. You may not be able to see my husband's +nobleness, but at least you can be silent." + +Lois pushed her hand away, and stared at her in amazement. "I didn't mean +to offend you," she stammered. "I only meant that he"-- + +"Do not speak of him!" Helen said passionately, her breath still quick, +and her face white to the lips. "I do not wish to hear what you meant! +Oh, Lois, Lois, I thought that you"--She turned away, and pressed +her hands hard on her eyes a moment; then she said, "I understand--I +know--your affection for me prompted it--but I cannot listen, Lois, if +you have such feelings about him. I will take your sympathy for granted +after this. I do not want to talk about it again." + +Lois went silently out of the room, her heart overflowing with love for +her cousin, and added rage at the man who had come between them. She +found Gifford walking about in the hall down-stairs, and, forgetful of +her father's injunction, she went quickly up to him, trembling with +excitement, and half sobbing. + +"Giff--oh, Giff--that man, that John Ward, has sent Helen back! She's +here--she can't go home!" + +Gifford was too astounded to speak. + +"Yes," Lois cried, clinging to his arm, her eyes overflowing, "he is a +wicked man--he is cruel--and she thinks I am, Giff, just because I said +he was!" + +Lois's agitation drove him into his most deliberate speech. + +"What do you mean? I do not understand." + +"Of course not! Nobody could think of anything so awful. Come into the +library, and I'll tell you. Father does not want it spoken of, Gifford, +but since you know she's here, I might as well explain." + +The room was deserted, except for Max, who was stretched on the cool +hearthstones; it was full of dusky shadows lurking in the wainscoted +corners; the outside shutters were bowed, and only two thin streaks of +sunshine traveled in from the warm sweet garden outside. Some roses in a +bowl on the table filled the air with fragrance. + +Lois hurried nervously through the story, breaking into angry grief that +John Ward should have made Helen angry at her. For she had told Gifford +how she had tried to console her cousin. + +"It makes me hate John Ward more than ever!" she said, striking her hands +passionately together. "Oh, Giff, isn't it awful?" + +"Poor fellow!" said the young man, deeply moved, "poor Ward! It is worse +for him than it is for Helen." + +"Oh, how can you say so?" she cried; "but I'm sure I hope it is!" + +"He won't weaken," Gifford went on slowly. "He will stand like a rock for +what he believes is right, and he will be more apt to believe it is right +if it nearly kills him." + +"I wish it would! And Helen, poor darling, thinks he loves her. What sort +of love does he call this?" + +"Oh, it is love," Gifford answered; "and I tell you, Lois, it is a height +of love that is ideal,--it is the measure of Ward's soul." They were both +so much in earnest, there was not the slightest self-consciousness in +this talk of love, even though Gifford added, "I never knew a man capable +of such devotion, and there are few women like Helen, who could inspire +it." + +"But, Giff," Lois said, not caring to discuss John Ward's character, "did +you suppose anybody could be so narrow? Think how bigoted he is! And +nobody believes in hell now as he does." + +"I don't know about that, Lois," Gifford responded slowly. "Lots of +people do, only they don't live up to their belief. If the people who say +they believe in hell were in dead earnest, the world would have been +converted long ago." + +"He is a wicked man!" Lois cried inconsequently. + +But Gifford shook his head. "No, he is not. And more than that, Lois, you +ought to consider that this belief of Ward's, if it is crude, is the husk +which has kept safe the germ of truth,--the consequences of sin are +eternal. There is no escape from character." + +"Oh, yes," she answered, "but that is not theology, you know: we don't +put God into that." + +"Heaven help us if we do not!" the young man said reverently. "It is +all God, Lois; perhaps not God as John Ward thinks of Him, a sort of +magnified man, for whom he has to arrange a scheme of salvation, a kind +of an apology for the Deity, but the power and the desire for good in +ourselves. That seems to me to be God. Sometimes I feel as though all +our lives were a thought of the Eternal, which would have as clear an +expression as we would let it." + +Lois had not followed his words, and said impatiently as he finished, +"Well, anyhow, he is cruel, and Helen should not have felt as she did +when I said so." + +Gifford hesitated. "She could not help it. How could she let you say it?" + +"What!" cried Lois, "you think he's not cruel?" + +"His will is not cruel," Gifford answered, "but I meant--I meant--she +couldn't let you speak as you did of John Ward, to his wife." + +Lois flung her head back. "You think I said too much?" she asked. "You +don't half sympathize with her, Gifford. I didn't think you could be so +hard." + +"I mean it was not quite kind in you," he said slowly. + +"I suppose you think it wasn't right?" + +"No, Lois, it was not right," he answered, with a troubled face. + +"Well, Gifford," she said, her voice trembling a little, "I'm sorry. But +it seems I never do do anything right. You--you see nothing but faults. +Oh, they're there!" she cried desperately. "Nobody knows that better than +I do; but I never thought any one would say that I did not love Helen"-- + +"I didn't say so, Lois," the young man interrupted eagerly; "only I felt +as though it wasn't fair for me to think you did not do just right, and +not tell you so." + +"Oh, of course," Lois said lightly, "but I don't think we are so very +friendly that I can claim such consideration. You are always finding +fault--and--and about Helen you misunderstand; we can say anything to +each other. I am afraid I exaggerated her annoyance. She knew what I +meant,--she said she did; she--she agreed with me, I've not a doubt!" + +"I always seem to blunder," Gifford said, his face stinging from the cut +about friendship. "I never seem to know how to tell the truth without +giving offense--but--but, Lois, you know I think you are the best woman +in the world." + +"You have a pretty poor idea of women, then," she responded, a lump in +her throat making her voice unsteady, "but I'm sure I don't care what you +think. I have a right to say what I want to Helen." + +She ran out of the room, for she would not let Gifford see her cry. "I +don't care what he thinks!" she said, as she fled panting into the attic, +and bolted the door as though she feared he would follow her. But then +she began to remember that he had said she was the best woman in the +world, and to her dismay she found herself smiling a little. "What a +wretch I am!" she said sternly. "Mr. Denner is dead, and Helen is in such +distress, and--and Dick Forsythe may come back! How can I be pleased at +anything?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Of course it was soon known that Helen Ward was at the rectory, but to +the Misses Woodhouse, at least, her presence was not of enough importance +to speculate or gossip about. Gifford had merely said Helen had changed +her mind about going, and would be in Ashurst a few days longer, and the +little ladies had such an absorbing interest of their own they did not +ask many questions. Miss Ruth only remarked that she wondered how she +could be satisfied to stay away from her husband so long, and Miss +Deborah replied that the young did not understand serious attachment. + +To both sisters a vague happiness had come in these last few weeks, and a +certain sense of importance. Each felt it for herself, but was unable to +realize it for the other, yet constantly encountered it with irritated +astonishment, when the desire to confide was strong. + +Once Miss Ruth, tearful with the memory of that last look from Mr. +Denner's dying eyes, tried to approach the subject delicately, but +was met with such amazing certainty on the part of Miss Deborah, and +a covert allusion to the value of the miniature, that she was silenced. +And again,--on Dr. Howe's return from Lockhaven,--Miss Deborah's +condescension in telling Miss Ruth she might accompany her to the +graveyard fell somewhat flat when she found that her sister had intended +going, and had even picked some flowers to put on Mr. Denner's grave. +However, they went together, a gentle seriousness on each face, and in +an unusual silence. Their parents were buried here, so that it was not +altogether sentiment which made them sad. + +A white, dusty road climbed the hill which overlooked the village on the +east, and on its brow, facing the sunrise, was the little group of +Ashurst's dead. + +The blossoming grass grew long and tangled here; the gray headstones +slanted a little, or had even fallen, and some of the inscriptions were +hidden by moss. The place was full of shadowy silence, only broken by the +rustle of the leaves and small bird-cries, or, from down in the valley, +the faint tinkle of a cow-bell. Cypresses stood dark against the blue +sky, swaying a little in the soft wind, and from the top of one of them +flew suddenly a brown hawk, his shadow floating from the green dusk under +the trees out over the sunny meadow below. + +The two sisters went to the graves of their father and mother first, and +laid some flowers on them, and stood a moment looking at them silently. +Their sighs were rather a reverent recognition of an old grief than real +sorrow, for it was many years ago that these two had been laid here; the +simple souls were too happy to understand the pathos of a forgotten +grief, indeed, they did not even know that they had forgotten it. + +As they turned away, Miss Ruth said in a hushed voice, "It is over +by Dr. Howe's lot, sister. You can see it under that larch." So they +went towards this one new grave, stepping softly, and stopping by some +familiar name to brush away the grass that hid the inscription, or lay +a blossom against the stone. They spoke once or twice of those who lay +there, calling them by their first names, yet with that curious lowering +of the voice which shows with what dignity death has invested what was +once familiar. + +They were silent as they laid their flowers on the fresh earth of Mr. +Denner's grave, over which the kindly grass had not yet thrown its veil; +and Miss Deborah stopped to put a single rose upon the sunken, mossy spot +where, forty years before, the little sister had been laid to rest. Both +the little ladies frankly wiped their eyes, though with no thought except +for the old friendship which had ended here. They would have turned to +go, then, but Miss Deborah laid her hand on Miss Ruth's arm. "Why, +sister," she said, "who is that by Mary Jeffrey's grave?" + +Some one was lying upon the grass, her cheek resting against the small +marble cross at the head of the grave, and one arm thrown around it. + +"It must be Helen!" answered Miss Ruth anxiously. "How imprudent!" + +They went towards the prostrate figure,--there were no divisions in the +Ashurst burying-ground,--and Miss Deborah stooped and touched her on the +shoulder, saying in a shocked voice, for Helen was shaken with sobs, +"Why, my dear child, what is the matter?" + +Helen started violently, and then sat up, brushing the tears away, and +struggling to speak calmly. "I--I did not know any one was here." + +"We were just going," Miss Ruth replied in her kind little voice, "but we +were grieved to see you troubled, my dear?" + +Miss Ruth could not help saying it in a questioning way, for, in spite +of Ashurst traditions of parental love, it could hardly be imagined that +Helen was crying for a mother she had never known. + +"You are very kind," Helen said, the tears still trembling in her eyes. +"Something did trouble me--and--and I came here." + +The sisters spoke some gentle words of this young mother, dead now for +more than twenty years, and then went softly away, full of sympathy, yet +fearing to intrude, though wondering in their kind hearts what could be +the matter. But their curiosity faded; Mr. Denner's grave was a much more +important thing than Helen's unknown grief. + +"I dare say she misses her husband?" Miss Ruth suggested. + +But Miss Deborah thought that quite improbable. "For she could go home, +you know, if that was the case." + +And here the sisters dropped the subject. + +As for Helen, she still lingered in the silent graveyard. She felt, with +the unreasoning passion of youth, that the dead gave her more comfort +than the living. Lois had scarcely dared to speak to her since that talk +in their sitting-room, and Dr. Howe's silence was like a pall over the +whole house. So she had come here to be alone, and try to fancy what her +husband and her uncle had said to each other, for Dr. Howe had refused to +enter into the details of his visit. + +His interview with her husband had only resulted in a greater bitterness +on the part of the rector. He had waited for John Ward's answer to his +letter, and its clear statement of the preacher's position, and its +assertion that his convictions were unchangeable, gave him no hope that +anything could be accomplished without a personal interview. Discussion +with a man who actually believed that this cruel and outrageous plan of +his, was appointed by God as a means to save his wife's soul, was absurd +and undignified, but it had to be. The rector sighed impatiently as he +handed her husband's letter to Helen. + +"He is lost to all sense of propriety; apparently he has no thought of +what he owes you. Well, I shall go to Lockhaven to-morrow." + +"It is all for me!" Helen said. "Oh, uncle Archie, if you would just +understand that!" + +Dr. Howe gave an explosive groan, but he only said, "Tell Lois to pack my +bag. I'll take the early train. Oh, Helen, why can't you be like other +women? Why do you have to think about beliefs? Your mother never doubted +things; why do you? Isn't it enough that older and wiser people than you +do not question the faith?" + +At the last moment he begged her to accompany him. "Together, we can +bring the man to his senses," he pleaded, and he secretly thought that +not even the hardness and heartlessness of John Ward could withstand the +sorrow in her face. But she refused to consider it. + +"Have you no message for him?" he asked. + +"No," she answered. + +"Sha'n't I tell him how you--miss him, Helen?" + +A light flashed across her face, but she said simply, "John knows," and +her uncle had to be content with that. + +Dr. Howe grew more intolerant with each mile of his journey. Every +incident touched him with a personal annoyance at the man he was going to +see. The rattling, dingy cars on the branch railroad afflicted him with +an irritated sense of being modern; the activity about the shabby station +jarred upon his remembrance of Ashurst's mellow quiet; the faces of the +men in the lumber-yards, full of aggressive good-nature, offended his +ideas of dignity and reserve. A year ago, Dr. Howe would have thought all +this very entertaining, and simple, and natural. Now, that a man who +lived in such a place, among such people, should have it in his power to +place the Howes in a conspicuous and painful position was unbearable! + +By the time he reached the parsonage, to which an officious young person +of whom he had inquired his way conducted him, he had attained a pitch of +angry excitement which drove all theological arguments out of his mind. +Alfaretta greeted him with a blank stare, and then a sudden brightening +of her face as he gave his name. + +"You're her uncle!" she cried. "How is she? and when is she comin' back? +She ain't sick?"--this with quick alarm, for Dr. Howe had not answered +her questions. + +"No, no, my good woman," he said impatiently, "certainly not. Where is +your master?" + +"The preacher's not home," the girl answered coldly. She was not used to +being called "my good woman," if she did live out. "You can wait, if you +want to;" but there, her anxiety getting the better of her resentment, +she added, "Is she comin' back soon?" + +"I'll wait," said Dr. Howe briefly, walking past her into John Ward's +study. + +"Insufferable people!" he muttered. He looked about him as he entered the +room, and the poverty of the bookshelves did not escape his keen eyes, +nor the open volume of Jonathan Edwards on the writing-table. There was +a vase beside it, which held one dried and withered rose; but it is +doubtful if the pathos of the flower which was to await Helen's return +would have softened him, even if he could have known it. He stopped and +glanced at the book, and then began to read it, holding it close to his +eyes, while, with his other hand behind him, he grasped his hat and +stick. + +He read the frequently quoted passages from Edwards, that God holds man +over hell as a man might hold a spider or some loathsome insect over the +fire, with the satisfaction one feels in detecting a proof of the vicious +nature of an enemy. "Ward is naturally cruel," he said to himself. "I've +always thought so. That speech of his about slavery showed it." + +He put down the book with an emphasis which argued ill for his opinion of +a man who could study such words, and began to pace up and down the room +like some caged animal, glancing once with a smothered exclamation at the +old leather-covered volume, which had fallen upon the floor; he even gave +it a furtive kick, as he passed. + +He was so occupied with his own thoughts, he did not see John Ward come +up the garden path and enter the parsonage, and when, a moment +afterwards, the preacher came into the room, Dr. Howe started at the +change in him. These weeks of spiritual conflict had left their mark upon +him. His eyes had a strained look which was almost terror, and his firm, +gentle lips were set in a line of silent and patient pain. Yet a certain +brightness rested upon his face, which for a moment hid its pallor. + +Through fear, and darkness, and grief, through an extraordinary +misconception and strange blindness of the soul, John Ward had come, in +his complete abnegation of himself, close to God. Since that June night, +when he met the temptation which love for his wife held out to him, he +had clung with all the passion of his life to his love for God. The whole +night, upon his knees, he besought God's mercy for Helen, and fought the +wild desire of flight the longing to take her and go away, where her +unbelief could not injure any one else, and devote his life to leading +her to light; go away from his people, whom God had committed to him, and +whom he had betrayed, leave them, stained with the sin he had permitted +to grow unchecked among them, and give his very soul to Helen, to save +her. But the temptation was conquered. When the faint, crystal brightness +of the dawn looked into his study, it saw him still kneeling, his face +hidden in his arms, but silent and at peace. God had granted his prayer, +he said to himself. He had shown him the way to save Helen. At first he +had shrunk from it, appalled, crying out, "This is death, I cannot, I +cannot!" But when, a little later, he went out into the growing glory of +the day, and, standing bareheaded, lifted his face to heaven, he said, +"I love her enough, thank God,--thank God." A holy and awful joy shone in +his eyes. "God will do it," he said, with simple conviction. "He will +save her, and my love shall be the human instrument." + +After that had come the days when John had written those imploring +letters to his wife, the last of which she had answered with such entire +decision, saying that there was no possible hope that she could ever +believe in what she called a "monstrous doctrine," and adding sorrowfully +that it was hard even to believe in God,--a personal God, and she could +be content to let doctrines go, if only that light upon the darkness of +the world could be left her. + +Then he had sent his last letter. He had written it upon his knees, his +eyes stung with terrible tears; but his hand did not falter; the letter +was sent. Then he waited for the manifestation of God in Helen's soul: +he distrusted himself and his own strength, but he never doubted God; +he never questioned that this plan for converting his wife was a direct +answer to his prayers. + +Now, when he saw Dr. Howe, he had a moment of breathless hope that her +uncle had come to tell him that Helen had found the truth. But almost +before the unreasonableness of his idea struck him, he knew from Dr. +Howe's face that the time was not yet. + +"I am glad to see you," he said, a little hurriedly; the thin hand he +extended was not quite steady. + +The rector's forehead was gathered into a heavy frown. "See here," he +answered, planting his feet wide apart, and still holding his hat and +stick behind him, "I cannot give you my hand while you are ignorant of +the spirit in which I come." + +"You come for Helen's sake," John replied. + +"Yes, sir, I do come for Helen's sake," returned Dr. Howe, "but it is +because of your conduct, because of the heartless way in which you have +treated my niece. You cannot expect me to have a friendly feeling for the +man who is cruel to her." For the moment he forgot that this was to be a +theological dispute. "Now, sir, what explanation have you to give of this +outrageous affair?" + +"Helen's soul shall be saved," John said, his voice growing firmer, but +losing none of its gentleness. + +Dr. Howe made an impatient gesture. "Helen's soul!" he cried. "Is it +possible that a sane man can seriously excuse his conduct on such a +ground? Why, it is incredible! How do you suppose the world will regard +your action?" + +"What have you or I to do with the world?" the other answered. + +"We live in it," said Dr. Howe, "and if we are wise men we will not, for +a mad whim, violate its standards of propriety. When a man turns his wife +out of his house, he must consider what meaning is attached to such an +action by the world. You blast Helen's life, sir, and her family is +necessarily involved in the same disgrace." + +John looked at him with clear, direct eyes. "I save Helen's soul, and her +family will rejoice with me when that day comes." + +"Her family," the other replied contemptuously, "are not troubled about +Helen's soul; they are quite satisfied with her spiritual condition." + +"Do they know what it is?" John asked. + +"Certainly," answered the rector, "of course. But it isn't of the +slightest consequence, anyhow. The main thing is to cover up this +unfortunate affair at once. If Helen comes back right away, I think +no one need know what has happened." + +"But there is nothing to cover up," John said simply; "there is no shame +that Helen should accept God's way of leading her to himself." + +"Lord!" exclaimed Dr. Howe, and then stopped. This would never do; if +Ward became angry, he would only grow more obstinate. + +"If you are so troubled about her unbelief," the rector said, feeling +that he was very wily, "I should think you would see the need of daily +influence. You could accomplish more if she were with you. The constant +guidance of a clergyman would be of the utmost value. I suppose you think +she is with me, but I doubt"--his lip curled a little--"if I can give her +quite the instruction you desire." + +"Oh, I had not hoped for that," John answered. "But her surroundings +will not influence Helen now. Impelled by my grief, she must search for +truth." + +Dr. Howe was too much excited to notice the reproof in John's words. +"Well, it will teach her to think; it will push her into positive +unbelief. Agnosticism!--that's what this 'search for truth' ends in +nowadays! Come, now, be reasonable, Ward; for Heaven's sake, don't be +a--a--don't be so unwise. I advise this really in your own interests. +Why, my dear fellow, you'll convert her in half the time if she is with +you. What? And don't you see that your present attitude will only drive +her further away? You are really going against your own interests." + +"Do not play the part of the Tempter," John said gently; "it ill becomes +Christ's minister to do that. Would you have me pray for guidance, and +then refuse to follow it when it comes? God will give me the strength and +courage to make her suffer that she may be saved." + +Dr. Howe stared at him for a moment. Then he said, "I--I do not need you +to teach me my duty as Christ's minister, sir; it would be more fitting +that you should concern yourself with your duty as a husband." The vein +in his forehead was swollen with wrath. "The way in which you pride +yourself upon devising the most exquisite pain for your wife is +inhuman,--it is devilish! And you drag her family into the scandal of +it, too." + +John was silent. + +Again Dr. Howe realized that he must control himself; if he got into a +passion, there would be an end of bringing about a reconciliation. + +"You made me forget myself," he said. "I didn't mean to speak of my own +feelings. It is Helen I want to talk about." Perhaps some flash of memory +brought her face before his eyes. "Sit down," he added brusquely,--"you +look tired;" and indeed the pallor of John's face was deadly. + +The rector, in his impatience, sat on the edge of his chair, one plump +fist resting on the table, and the other hand clenched on the head of +his cane. His arguments and entreaties were equally divided, but he +resolutely checked the denunciations which trembled upon his lips. John +answered him almost tenderly; his own grief was not so absorbing that +he could be indifferent to the danger of a man who set the opinion of the +world before the solemn obligations of his profession. Carefully, and +fully, and very quietly, he explained his position in regard to his +parish; but when Dr. Howe urged that Helen might observe all proper +forms, and yet keep silence on what was, after all, a most immaterial +difference, John roused to sudden passion. Here was an old temptation. + +"God forbid!" he said. "Observe forms, and let her hope of spiritual life +die? No, no,--not that. Form without soul is dead. You must have seen +that too often." + +"Well, I'll tell you what to do," said the rector, in his eagerness +pulling his chair closer to John's, and resting his hand almost +confidentially upon his knee: "if you fear her influence in your +parish,--and of course I understand that,--why, give her a letter +to another church." + +John half smiled, but did not answer. The room had grown dark as they +talked, and now Alfaretta brought a lamp, looking curiously at the +rector, as she passed him. "Supper's ready, Mr. Ward," she said. + +"Yes," John said. "Dr. Howe, I hope"-- + +But the rector plunged again into argument. Once he stopped, and said, +"So, surely, she can return?" + +"It is impossible," John answered quietly. + +And again, "You will let me send her back?" + +And he said, "No." + +At last, wearied and baffled, Dr. Howe rose. He leaned heavily forward +on the table, his open palm resting on the volume of sermons, which +Alfaretta had lifted from the floor, and he looked steadily at John. +"Then, sir," he said slowly, "I am to understand, for my niece, that this +monstrous decision of yours is fixed and unchangeable? We cannot hope +that her love, or her youth, or your duty, or the miserable scandal of +the affair, will ever move your cruel determination?" + +John rose, too. The interview had been a terrible strain. His courage +was unshaken, but his strength was leaving him; a pathetic desire for +sympathy and understanding seized him. "I love her too much to change. +Don't you understand? But I cling to more than human strength, when I +say, I will not change." + +"Then, by Heaven," cried the rector, "neither shall she! With my consent +she shall never return to a man who reads such books as those," and he +pointed to the row of Edwards,--"a man who denies good in anything +outside his own miserable conception of religion; the very existence of +whose faith is a denunciation and execration of every one who does not +agree with him. You are firm, sir? So is she! I bid you good-day." + +He turned to the door, breathing hard through his shut teeth. John Ward +followed him, and laid his hand upon his arm. "Do not go," he said; +"there is much I would like to say; and you will spend the night here +with me? I beg that you will not go." + +"The roof which refuses to shelter my niece," answered Dr. Howe, his +voice shaking with anger, "shall not be over my head!" + +"Then," said John slowly and gently, "you must listen now to what I have +to say." + +"Must!" cried the rector. + +"Yes, for it is your duty to listen, as it is mine to speak. I dare not +hear a servant of God set the opinion of the world above a conception +of duty--no matter how strained and unnatural the duty may appear to +him--and keep silence. I cannot listen when you urge Helen's temporal +happiness, and refuse to consider her eternal welfare, and not tell you +you are wrong. You evade the truth; you seek ease in Zion. I charge you, +by the sacred name of Him whose minister you are, that you examine your +own soul." + +Dr. Howe looked at him, his face crimson with anger. "Sir," he stammered, +flinging the detaining hand from his arm,--"sir!" And then, for the first +time since Archibald Howe took orders, an oath burst from his lips; he +struck his stick madly against the table, and rushed from the room. + +Alfaretta was lying in wait for him at the garden gate, a large and +rustic bunch of flowers in her hand, which she hoped he would carry to +Helen. + +"How's Mrs. Ward?" she said, trying to detain him. "When will she be +home?" + +"Get out of my way, girl!" he cried, and, slamming the gate behind him, +he strode down the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +When Dr. Howe reached his own door, Helen was waiting for him. + +She had been sitting on the porch alone for more than an hour. She had +been very quiet; there was none of that restlessness which excitement +produced in her uncle or cousin; but when she saw Dr. Howe, she rose, and +stood trembling at the head of the steps. The rector flung himself out of +the carriage almost before it stopped. + +"I want to see you, Helen," he said. "I have something to say to you. +Come into the library." + +She followed him silently, and when he had closed the door he turned and +looked at her. "Now, my child," he began, "you must listen to what I have +to say." + +He stood with one hand on his hip, and lifted the forefinger of the other +as he spoke. "I have seen that man. I have been insulted by him. He is as +firm as the devil can make him that you shall not return to him. Now, I +have no right to interfere between husband and wife; you are entirely +free at any moment to follow any course you may wish. At the same time, +I must tell you that I shall respect you more if you do not return to +him. And I want to add one other thing: from this time, his name is +not to be spoken in my presence." + +Helen's face had grown slowly whiter. "Oh, you will not understand!" she +said hoarsely; but he interrupted her. + +"I am sorry for you, my darling. Oh, what a blow this would have been for +your mother! Poor Mary felt any family trouble so deeply. But you must be +a woman, you must bear it bravely. Yes, your marriage with this fanatic +was a terrible mistake, but we must bear it." + +Helen shook her head; she could not speak. She had not known that she had +hoped anything from her uncle's visit, but this final despair almost +over-powered her. + +"He thinks you are going to change your mind in a week or two," he went +on. "I'd say he was insane if he were not so cruel! There is too much +method in his madness. There! I cannot speak of it; let us drop the +subject. Your place in my heart is secure; I trust you will never leave +me; but on this one topic we cannot meet." Then with a sudden tenderness, +"Oh, Helen, how hard this is for you! You must try to forgive him,--I +cannot." + +"Forgive him?" she said, almost in a whisper, her beautiful eyes dilating +and her lips white. "Oh, John, how I have wronged you, if they think I +have anything to forgive!" + +Dr. Howe looked at her, and seemed to swallow a sob; then he opened his +arms, and, drawing her head down on his shoulder, "Poor child," he said, +"poor child!" + +But this softening on his part met no response from Helen. "You do not +understand John," she said, "and so--so please do not think about me." + +The rebuff sent the rector back to his own resentment. "Remember, I do +not wish to speak of him again, Helen. I have nothing more to say." + +Nor would he say more to Lois and Mrs. Dale than that John Ward was +inflexible, and he wished no further discussion upon the subject; he also +forbade any urging that Helen should return to her husband. + +"Well, but, brother, what explanation shall we give of her being here?" +asked Mrs. Dale anxiously. + +"I'm sure I don't know," he answered impatiently; "anything but the +truth." + +"Why, Archibald!" his sister cried, in a shocked tone. + +"Oh, well, you know what I mean," he said; "make some sort of an excuse. +Of course, don't say anything which is untrue, but don't tell people our +private affairs." + +"Do you think she'll ever go back to him?" Mrs. Dale inquired, looking at +him meditatively over her glasses. + +"I hope not!" he said savagely. "Now stop, Adele, stop! I will not +discuss that man!" + +"Where did she get her obstinacy?" Mrs. Dale sighed. "I suppose it was +from her father's side. And the whole affair is so ill-bred; one would +know Helen was not all a Howe. I always felt there was something lacking +in Charles Jeffrey, though poor dear Mary was so infatuated. Yes, I +remember, when that sister of his came here to visit us, I did not feel +sure, not at all sure, that the Jeffreys were really well-born people. +She used to sit up straight and uncomfortable in a carriage. I never saw +her lean back, and I always said that that girl's grandmother wasn't used +to riding in carriages! So you see, that's where Helen gets her--her bad +taste." + +"Well, don't talk about it," said Dr. Howe, walking restlessly back and +forth. + +Mrs. Dale took off her glasses, and rubbed them on the corner of her +black silk apron. "It would never have happened," she said positively, +"if they had had children. I declare, I"--and she stopped, as though +about to suggest that Helen should adopt a child at once. Mrs. Dale +usually blamed John and Helen with equal impartiality, but to-day the +fault seemed to belong entirely to her niece. She was very much puzzled +to know how she was to "make excuses" without telling an untruth. "I'll +just speak to Giff about it," she thought; "it all depends on the way +Deborah Woodhouse hears it, and Giff is really quite sensible, and can +advise me what to tell her." + +She saw him that afternoon, but, as she said afterwards in reluctant +confidence to her husband, "Giff hasn't much sense, after all. He thought +it was best to just tell the truth about it." + +"Yes?" responded Mr. Dale. "Well, I have often noticed, I am only apt to +admire the good sense of people who agree with me. Gifford doubtless has +not the advantage of feeling sure that his wishes constitute the +standards of right and wrong." + +"Nonsense," said Mrs. Dale; "I am sure I don't know what you are talking +about." + +"Well, what are you going to do?" asked her husband. + +"Oh," Mrs. Dale answered, "Gifford will tell Deborah Woodhouse the +truth (Helen wants him to), but he will do it as carefully and as mildly +as possible. And he will make her promise to keep it to herself. But +you know Deborah Woodhouse; she trickles--there is no other word for +it--everything. She couldn't keep a secret to save her life. But Helen +will have it so. Oh, dear, dear, dear! Heaven save us from willful +women!" + +Gifford broke the news to his aunts as wisely as he knew how, but he +did not hide the truth. It was not until the day before he went back +to Lockhaven that he told them; he had put it off as long as he could, +hoping, as Dr. Howe had done, that John Ward would see how useless it was +to carry out his plan. Gifford had found the sisters together. Miss Ruth +was at work in her studio, while Miss Deborah sat in the doorway, in the +shadow of the grape-vines, topping and tailing gooseberries into a big +blue bowl. She had a handful of crushed thyme in her lap, and some +pennyroyal. + +"It isn't roses," Miss Deborah remarked, "but it is better than Ruth's +turpentine. And so long as I have got to sit here (for I will sit here +while she's copying the miniature; it is a sacred charge), the pennyroyal +is stronger than the paint." + +Miss Ruth, her hands neatly gloved, was mixing her colors a little +wearily; somehow, on her canvas, the face of the little sister lost what +beauty it had ever known. + +"I can't get the eyes," Miss Ruth sighed. "I have a great mind to help +you with your preserving, sister." + +"My dear Ruth," said Miss Deborah, with much dignity, "do I try to do +your work?" + +"But you know you couldn't paint, dear Deborah," said the younger sister +eagerly. The round china-blue eyes of the little sister stared at her +maliciously. + +"Well," returned Miss Deborah, running her small hand through the +gooseberries in the bowl, "neither could you make gooseberry jelly, or +even a tart." Then seeing her nephew lounging down the flagged path to +the door of the studio, his straw hat pushed back and his hands in his +pockets, she was suddenly reminded of his packing. "I hope, Giff, dear," +she cried, "you left plenty of room in your trunk? I have a number of +articles I want you to take." + +"There's lots of room, aunt Deborah," he answered. "You know I had to put +in a bag of straw to fill up, when I came on,--I couldn't have things +rattle around." + +Miss Deborah laughed. "You need your aunt to look after you, my dear." + +"Or a wife," said Miss Ruth, looking up at him over her gleaming +spectacles. + +"Nonsense," replied her sister vigorously; "don't put such ideas into his +head, if you please. I must say such jokes are not in good taste, dear +Ruth." + +But Miss Ruth was more anxious about her light than Gifford's marriage. +"You are really so big, Giff," she complained mildly, "you darken the +whole studio, standing there in the doorway. Do pray sit down." + +Gifford obediently took his seat upon the step, and this brought his face +on a level with Miss Ruth's. + +"Oh, that is nice," the little lady said, with gentle enthusiasm. "I +shall have your eyes to look at. I have not been able to get the little +sister's eyes just to suit me." + +It made no difference to Miss Ruth that Gifford's eyes were gray and full +of trouble. "Aunt Deborah," he said abruptly, "Helen Ward is not going +back to Lockhaven for the present. Indeed, I do not know when she will +go." + +Miss Deborah forgot her gooseberries, in her surprise. "Not going back!" +she cried, while her sister said, "Is Mr. Ward coming here?" + +Then Gifford told them the story as briefly as he could, interrupted by +small cries of amazement and dismay. "Well," exclaimed Miss Deborah, her +delicate hands uplifted, "well! I never heard of such a thing! How +shocking, how ill-bred! And she is going to be at the rectory? Ruth, my +dear, you must never go there without me, do you hear? It is not proper. +A wife separated from her husband! Dear me, dear me!" + +"How can she leave him?" gasped Miss Ruth. "Married people ought to love +each other so that they could not be parted." + +"You have never been in a position to judge how they ought to love each +other," said Miss Deborah sharply. "But this is what comes of youthful +marriages, Gifford. A person should have reached years of maturity before +thinking of marriage. Such things do not happen when people are +reasonably old"-- + +"But not too old, sister," Miss Ruth interrupted, a little color creeping +into her faded cheek. + +Miss Deborah did not notice the amendment; she was anxious to hear the +practical side of the matter, and had questions to ask about Helen's +money, and whether Gifford supposed that that man would do anything for +her; but except their grave disapproval that Helen should differ from her +husband, nothing was said of theology. As they talked, the sisters grew +full of sympathy, which waxed and waned as they thought of Helen's +sorrow, or the impropriety of her action. + +"I shall make her some jelly directly," said Miss Deborah, "and put in +plenty of Madeira; the poor thing needs strength." + +"This must be the reason," Miss Ruth said,--she had put her brushes down +some time ago,--"that she was in such distress that day at her mother's +grave. Oh, how trying this is for her! Indeed, I am sure death is easier +to bear, when one--loves--than a parting like this." + +"Really, dear Ruth," returned her sister, holding her head very straight, +"you would not say that if you knew what it was to lose a--friend, by +death. At least Mr. Ward is alive, even if Helen cannot see him. Ah, dear +me! Well, I wonder how Adele Dale feels now? I should be miserable if we +had such a thing happen in our family. A husband and wife quarrel, and +separate! Shocking!" + +"But there is no quarrel, you know," Gifford protested slowly, and for +the third or fourth time. + +But Miss Deborah brushed this aside. "They are separated; it is the same +thing. In our family, an unhappy marriage was never known. Even when your +grandfather's sister married a Bellingham,--and of course everybody knows +the Bellingham temper,--and they quarreled, just three weeks to a day +after the wedding, she never thought of such a disgraceful thing as +leaving him. I have heard dear mamma say she never spoke to him again, +except when she had to ask for money; that almost killed her, she was so +proud. But she never would have lowered herself by leaving him. Yes, this +is really most improper in poor dear Helen." + +Miss Deborah's feelings vibrated, even while she was making the jelly, +and though it was finally sent, she balanced her kindness by saying to +Mrs. Dale that it did not seem just right for a young thing like Lois to +know of such a painful affair. It gave Miss Deborah so much pleasure to +say this to her old enemy that she made excuses for Helen for a whole day +afterwards. + +Late that afternoon Gifford went to say good-by at the rectory. It was +a still, hazy August day, with a hint of autumn in the air; sometimes a +yellowing leaf floated slowly down, or one would notice that the square +tower of St. Michael's could be seen, and that the ivy which covered its +south side was beginning to redden. + +Miss Helen was not at home, Jean said. She thought she'd gone up to the +graveyard,--she most always went there. + +So Gifford started in search of her. "She ought not to be alone so much," +he thought, and he wondered, with a man's dullness in such matters, why, +if she and Lois had made up after that one quarrel, they were not the +same tender friends. He met Lois at the rectory gate. She was coming from +the village, and there was a look in her face which gave him a sudden +jealous pain. She held a letter in her hand, and her eyes were running +over with happiness; her lips smiled so that they almost broke into +laughter as she spoke. + +"Something seems to make you very happy, Lois?" he said. + +"It does," she cried,--"very, very!" + +"I am glad," he said, wishing she could find it in her heart to tell him +of her joy. + +"Forsythe has come to his senses," he thought. "I suppose he has been +unusually loving, confound him!" + +The two young people parted, each a little graver than when they met. +"How he does like to be with Helen!" Lois thought, as she went on, and +Gifford sighed impatiently as he wished Forsythe were more worthy of her. + +He found Helen walking wearily home alone. "I wanted to say good-by," he +said, taking her hand in his big warm grasp, "and just tell you that I'll +look after him, you know, in any way I can. I'll see him every day, +Helen." She looked at him gratefully, but did not speak. "I wish," +Gifford continued, hesitating, "you would not take such long walks by +yourself. Why don't you let Lois come with you?" + +"She would not care to," she answered briefly. + +"Oh, I think you are wrong there," he remonstrated. "She is lonely, too." +Helen seemed to consider. "You know it has been an unhappy summer for +Lois, and if you shut her out of your sorrow"-- + +"I did not mean to be selfish," she replied, not seeing how much Gifford +spoke for her own sake, "and I do not shut her out; but so long as she +only sympathizes with me, and not with John too, I cannot let her talk to +me about it." + +"That is not quite just, Helen," he said; and afterward, Helen +acknowledged this. + +She put her hands into his, when he turned to go home, and searched his +face with sad, eager eyes. "You are going to see him,--oh, Giff, you'll +see John!" she said. + +Lois saw them talking, as they came to the rectory door, with a dull +feeling of envy. Gifford never seemed to care to talk much to her. What +was that Miss Deborah had said of his once caring for Helen? She had the +good sense to be ashamed of herself for remembering it, but a thought +which comes even into an unwilling mind cannot be driven away without +leaving its impress; the point of view is subtilely and unconsciously +changed. She was not altogether cordial to Gifford, when he said good-by +to her, which he was quick to feel. "He thinks only of Helen," she said +to herself. "I suppose he has forgotten anything he ever said to me, and +my promise, too. I'm ready enough with promises," she thought, with a +bitter little smile. But even this memory could not keep that happiness +which Gifford had seen from shining in her eyes; and when she went +up-stairs, Helen noticed it. + +Perhaps because of Gifford's gentle reproof, she roused herself to say, +as he had done, "You are very happy, Lois?" + +"Oh, I am, I am!" she cried impulsively, "Oh, Helen, I have something to +tell you." A very little sympathy in her cousin's voice brought her eager +confidence to her lips. "Oh, Helen, a letter has come!" + +"John?" she hardly breathed. For one exquisite moment, which had yet its +background that he had not been strong, Helen misunderstood her. + +"No, it's only something about me," Lois answered humbly. + +"Tell me," Helen said gently. "If anything makes you happy, you know I'll +be glad." + +Lois twisted her fingers together, with a nervous sort of joy. "I've just +heard," she said; "Mrs. Forsythe has just written to me." + +"And she is very well?" Helen asked. She had almost forgotten her +cousin's grief and anxiety about Mrs. Forsythe. It all seemed so long ago +and so unimportant. + +"No, no," Lois said, "she says she's very sick; but oh, Helen, Dick +Forsythe is engaged to be married!" + +Helen looked puzzled. "I don't understand." + +"Never mind," Lois cried joyously, "he is, and I am so happy!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +When the summer had faded into autumn, Ashurst had not yet recovered from +the social earthquake of discovering that it had the scandal of an +unhappy marriage within its decorous borders. There had been nothing +which had so shaken the foundation of things since Gertrude Drayton had +run away with her dancing-master, who, it was more than suspected, had +left a wife in France. That sensation lasted a long time, for William +Denner's face was a constant reminder of his grief; but by and by it +faded, and, as Gertrude never came back to Ashurst, people even said very +kindly things about her. + +But Helen Ward continued to live among them. + +Indeed, the excitement was so great at first that Miss Deborah did not +remember for some time to write to Gifford that Dick Forsythe was engaged +to a New York girl. "She really could scarcely blame him," she had added, +"for he could hardly be expected to keep his engagement with Lois after +this disgraceful affair in her family." + +Gifford read that part of the letter again, dizzy with happiness and +pain. "How she must suffer!" he said to himself. "The cur! Ah, she never +could have married him; she must have discovered his contemptible +nature." + +His first impulse was to hurry to Ashurst. "Not for my own sake," he +reasoned, "but just to be there. I would never show that I knew how he +had treated her. She should not have an instant's mortification in my +presence. But she might just see, without being told, that I loved her +through it all." + +He even rose, and began to study a time-table; but he frowned a little +and put it down, and went and looked out of the window a while. "Helen +would be more unhappy if she thought I were not here to look after Ward. +Yes, I must wait till he gets stronger. Perhaps next month"-- + +Then, shaking himself together, with a revulsion of common sense, "As she +is unhappy, she won't care whether I'm there or not, or may be she'd +rather I wasn't!" + +Yet, though he could not easily subdue the desire to rush to Ashurst, the +thought that Helen's sorrow would be a little greater if she could not +think of him as near her husband, helped to keep him at his post. + +But it might have been good for Helen to have had the young man's frank +and healthy understanding of her position. She was growing every day more +lonely and self-absorbed; she was losing her clear perceptions of the +values of life; she became warped, and prejudiced, and very silent. She +even fancied, with a morbid self-consciousness which would have been +impossible before, that she had never possessed the love of her uncle and +cousin, and had always been an alien. This subtile danger to her generous +nature was checked in an unexpected way. + +One afternoon, late in September, she went as usual, alone, to the +graveyard on East Hill. The blue haze lay like a ribbon through the +valley and across the hills; the air was still, and full of the pungent +fragrance of burning brush, and yellow leaves rustled about her feet. The +faded grass had been beaten down by the rain, and was matted above the +graves; here and there a frosted weed stood straight and thin against the +low soft sky; some late golden-rod blazed along the edge of the meadow +among the purple asters, and a single stalk of cardinal flowers flashed +out beside the lichen-covered wall; but all the rest of the world was a +blur of yellow and gray. Helen sat down on a stone, and listened to the +small wood sounds around her. A beech leaf, twisted like the keel of a +fantastic boat, came pattering down on the dead leaves; a bird stirred in +the pine behind her, and now and then a cricket gave a muffled chirp. + +It was here Mr. Dale found her, her head resting forlornly on her hands; +she was absently watching a gray squirrel who had ventured from his cover +in the wall, and was looking at her with curious twinkling eyes. + +"My dear," said Mr. Dale gently, "they told me at the rectory they +thought you were up here, so I came to see if you would let me walk home +with you." + +Helen started as he spoke, and the squirrel scampered away. "Did you come +for that?" she said, touched in spite of her bitter thoughts. + +Mr. Dale pushed his broad-brimmed hat back on his head, so that his face +seemed to have a black aureola around it. "Yes," he replied, regarding +her with anxious blue eyes,--"yes. I am grieved to have you so much +alone; yet I know how natural it is to desire to be alone." + +Helen did not answer. + +"I hope," he went on, hesitating, "you will not think I intrude if I +say--I came because I wanted to say that I have a great respect for your +husband, Helen." + +Helen turned sharply, as though she would have clasped his hands, and +then put her own over her face, which was quivering with sudden tears. + +Mr. Dale touched her shoulder gently. "Yes, a great respect. Love like +his inspires reverence. It is almost divine." + +Helen's assent was inaudible. + +"Not, my dear," the old man continued, "that I do not regret--yes, with +all my heart I deplore--the suffering for you both, by which his love is +proved. Yet I recognize with awe that it is love. And when one has come +so near the end of life as I have, it is much to have once seen love. We +look into the mysteries of God when we see how divine a human soul can +be. Perhaps I have no right to speak of what is so sacredly yours, yet it +is proper that you should know that the full meaning of this calamity can +be understood. It is not all grief, Helen, to be loved as you are." + +She could not speak; she clung to him in a passion of tears, and the love +and warmth she had thought she should never feel again began to stir +about her heart. + +"So you will be strong for him," Mr. Dale said gently, his wrinkled hand +stroking her soft hair. "Be patient, because we have perhaps loved you +too much to be just to him; yet your peace would teach us justice. Be +happier, my dear, that we may understand him. You see what I mean?" + +Helen did see; courage began to creep back, and her reserve melted and +broke down with a storm of tears, too long unshed. "I will try," she said +brokenly,--"oh, I will try!" She did not say what she would try to do, +but to struggle for John's sake gave her strength and purpose for all of +life. She would so live that no one could misunderstand him. + +Mr. Dale walked home with her, but he did not speak to her again of her +sorrow. The impulse had been given, and her conscience aroused; the +harder struggle of coming back to the daily life of others she must meet +alone. And she met it bravely. Little by little she tried to see the +interests and small concerns of people about her, and very gradually the +heavy atmosphere of the rectory began to lighten. Dr. Howe scarcely knew +how it was that there was a whist party in his library one Friday +evening; rather a silent one, with a few sighs from the Misses Woodhouse +and a suspicious dimness in Mr. Dale's eyes. The rector somehow slipped +into the vacant chair; he said he thought he was so old whist would not +hurt him, if they were willing to teach him. But as he swept the board +at the first deal, and criticised his partner's lead at the second, +instruction was deemed superfluous. + +By degrees, Lois and Helen came nearer together. There was no +explanation: the differences had been too subtile for words, at least on +Lois's side, and to have attempted it would have made a vague impression +harden into permanence. + +No one recognized an effort on Helen's part, and she only knew it +herself when she realized that it was a relief to be with Mr. Dale. He +understood; she could be silent with him. So she came very often to his +little basement office, and spent long mornings with him, helping him +label some books, or copying notes which he had intended "getting +into shape" these twenty years. She liked the stillness and dimness of +the small room, with its smell of leather-covered volumes, or whiff of +wood smoke from the fireplace. + +Mrs. Dale rarely disturbed them. "If Helen finds any pleasure in that +musty old room," she said, one cold January morning, "I'm sure I'm glad. +But she would be a great deal more sensible and cheerful if she'd sit up +in the parlor with me, if she didn't do anything more than play patience. +But then, Helen never was like other people." + +And so she left her niece and her husband, with a little good-natured +contempt in her eyes, and went up to her own domains. Mr. Dale was +arranging some plants on a shelf across one of the windows, and Helen was +watching him. "They generally die before the winter is out," he said, +"but perhaps with you to look after them they'll pull through." + +He was in his flowered dressing-gown, and was standing on tiptoe, +reaching up for one of the mildewed flower-pots. "These are orange +plants," he explained proudly. "I planted the seeds a month ago, and see +how they've grown." He put his glasses on and bent down to examine them, +with an absorbed look. The pot that held the six spindling shoots had +streaks of white mould down its sides, and the earth was black and hard +with the deluge of water with which Mr. Dale's anxious care usually began +the season. He began now to loosen it gently with his penknife, saying, +"I'm sure they'll flourish if you look after them." + +"I will if I'm here, uncle Henry," she replied. + +"Ah, my dear," he said, looking at her sharply, "you are not thinking of +that hospital plan again?" + +"Yes," she answered, "I cannot help it. I feel as though I must be of +some use in the world." She was standing in the stream of wintry sunshine +which flooded the narrow window, and Mr. Dale saw that some white threads +had begun to show in the bronze-brown waves of her hair. "Yes," she +continued, "it is so hard to keep still. I must do something, and be +something." + +Mr. Dale stopped digging in his flower-pots, and looked at her without +speaking for a moment; then he said, "I wonder if you will not be +something nobler by the discipline of this quiet life, Helen? And are you +not really doing something if you rouse us out of our sleepy satisfaction +with our own lives, and make us more earnest? I know that cannot be your +object, as it would defeat itself by self-consciousness, but it is true, +my dear." + +She did not speak. + +"You see," he went on, in his gentle voice, "your life cannot be negative +anywhere. You have taken a stand for a vital principle, and it must make +us better. Truth is like heat or light; its vibrations are endless, and +are endlessly felt. There is something very beautiful to me, Helen, +speaking of truth, that you and your husband, from absolutely opposite +and extreme points, have yet this force of truth in your souls. You have +both touched the principle of life,--he from one side, you from the +other. But you both feel the pulse of God in it!" + +"You know," she said gratefully, "you understand"--She stopped abruptly, +for she saw Lois coming hurriedly along the road, and when she opened the +gate she ran across the snowy lawn to Mr. Dale's office, instead of +following the path. There was something in her face which made Helen's +heart stand still. + +She could not wait for her to reach the door, but went out bareheaded to +meet her. + +Lois took her hands between her own, which were trembling. "Gifford has +sent a dispatch. I--I came to bring it to you, Helen." + +Her cousin put out her hand for the telegram. + +"I'm afraid John is ill," Lois said, the quick tears springing to her +eyes. + +"Give it to me," said Helen. + +Reluctantly Lois gave her the dispatch, but she scarcely looked at it. +"Uncle Henry," she said, for Mr. Dale had followed her, and stood in +speechless sympathy, his white hair blowing about in the keen wind, "I +will go to Mercer now. I can make the train. Will you let me have your +carriage?" + +Her voice was so firm and her manner so calm Lois was deceived. "She does +not understand how ill John is," she thought. + +But Mr. Dale knew better. "How love's horror of death sweeps away all +small things," he said, as he sat alone in his study that night,--"time, +hope, fear, even grief itself!" + +His wife did not enter into such analysis; she had been summoned, and had +seen to wraps and money and practical things, and then had gone crying +up-stairs. "Poor child," she said, "poor child! She doesn't feel it yet." + +A calamity like this Mrs. Dale could understand; she had known the sorrow +of death, and all the impatience which had stood between Helen and +herself was swept away in her pitying sympathy. + +As for Lois, Helen had not forbidden her, and she too had gone to Mercer. +Helen had not seemed even to notice her presence in the carriage, and she +dared not speak. She thought, in a vague way, that she had never known +her cousin before. Helen, with white, immovable face, sat leaning +forward, her hand on the door, her tearless eyes straining into the +distance, and a tense, breathless air of waiting about her. + +"May I go to Lockhaven with you?" Lois asked softly; but Helen did not +answer until she had repeated the question, and then she turned with the +start of one suddenly wakened, and looked at her. + +"Oh, you are here?" she said. "You were good to come, but you must not go +further than Mercer." Then she noticed that the window beside Lois was +open, and leaned forward to close it. After that, she lapsed again into +her stony silence. + +When they reached the station, it was she who bought the ticket, and then +again seemed startled to find the girl by her side. "Good-by," she said, +as Lois kissed her, but there was no change in her face, either of relief +or regret, when her cousin left her. + +How that long slow journey passed Helen never knew. She was not even +conscious of its length. When Gifford met her, she gave him one +questioning look. + +"Yes," he said tenderly, "you are in time. He would not let me send +before, Helen; and I knew you would not come unless I said, 'John sends +for you.'" + +"No," she answered. He told her, in their quick ride to the parsonage, +that this had been the third hemorrhage, and John had not rallied; but it +was not until the night before that he had known the end was inevitable +and near, and had sent for his wife. + +Oh, the strangeness of those village streets! Had she ever been away? +These months in Ashurst were a dream; here only was reality and death. + +Alfaretta could not speak as she met them at the gate, but ran by Helen's +side, and furtively kissed her hand. There was a light burning in the +study, but Helen stood at the table in the hall and took off her bonnet +and cloak. + +"I will go and tell him you are here," Gifford said, trying to detain her +as she turned to go up-stairs. + +"He knows," she said calmly, and left Gifford and the servant standing in +the entry. + +She did not even pause at the door; there seemed no need to gather +strength for the shock of that meeting; she was all strength and love. + +The room was lighted only by the fire, and the bed was in shadow. + +There were no words; those empty, dying arms were stretched out to her, +and she gathered him close to her heart. + +The house was strangely silent. Again and again Gifford crept up to the +door, but all was quite still; once he heard that soft sound which a +mother makes when she soothes her baby on her breast, and again a low +murmur, which died away as though even words were an intrusion. + +All that long winter day, Gifford, in his intense anxiety lest Helen +should not come in time, and his distress for the sorrow of this little +household, had been calmed and comforted by John's serene courage. He +knew that death was near, but there was an exultant look in his fading +eyes, and sometimes his lips moved in grateful prayer. Perhaps his +physical extremity had dulled his fears for his wife's salvation into a +conviction that his death was to be the climax of God's plans for her. He +was bewildered at the temptation of greater joy at the prospect of her +presence than gratitude that God should save her soul alive. But he never +for one moment doubted she would come to tell him she had found the +light. + +The night wore heavily on. Gifford stationed himself upon the stairs, +outside the door; the doctor came, and then went quietly down to John's +study, and found a book to while away the time. And then they waited. + +When the first faint lightening of the sky came and the chill of dawn +began to creep through the silent house, Helen came out of the closed +room. She put her hand upon Gifford's shoulder. "Go and rest," she said; +"there is no need to sit here any longer. John is dead." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +After it was all over, they begged her to go back to Ashurst. + +"You can't stay here," Lois entreated--she had come with Mr. Dale as soon +as the news of John Ward's death reached Ashurst--"you can't live among +these people, Helen." + +But Helen shook her head. "They are John's people. I cannot go yet." + +Lois thought with a shiver of the exhortations of the clergymen who had +come to the funeral to officiate. She wondered how Helen could stay where +every one had heard her sin of unbelief publicly prayed for; yet, with +her cousin's brave sad eyes upon her, she dared not give this as a reason +why Helen should leave Lockhaven. + +Mr. Dale did not urge her to return; he knew her too well. He only said +when he went away, holding her hands in his and looking at her, his +gentle old face quivering with tears, "He is all yours now, my dear; +death has given you what life could not. No matter where you are, nothing +can change the perfect possession." + +There was a swift, glad light in the eyes she lifted to his for a moment, +but she did not answer. + +At first she had been stunned and dazed; she had not realized what her +sorrow was; an artificial courage came to her in the thought that John +was free, and the terrible and merciful commonplace of packing and +putting in order, hid her from herself. + +She had stayed behind in the small brown parsonage, with only Alfaretta +for a companion, and Gifford's unspoken sympathy when he came every day +to see her. Once she answered it. + +"I am glad it is John instead of me," she said, with an uplifted look; +"the pain is not his." + +"And it is so much happier for him now," Gifford ventured to say,--"he +must see so clearly; and the old grief is lost in joy." + +"No," Helen answered wearily; "you must not say those things to me. I +cannot feel them. I am glad he has no pain,--in an eternal sleep there is +at least no pain. But I must just wait my life out, Gifford. I cannot +hope; I dare not. I could not go on living if I thought he were living +somewhere, and needing me. No, it is ended. I have had my life." + +She listened in eager and pathetic silence to every detail of John's life +since she had left him which Alfaretta or Gifford could give her. A +little later, she asked them both to write out all that they remembered +of those last days. She dared not trust the sacred memory only to her +heart, lest the obliterating years should steal it from her. And then, by +and by, she gathered up all her power of endurance, and quietly went back +to Ashurst. That last night in the little low-browed parsonage not even +Alfaretta was with her. Gifford left her on the threshold with a terrible +fear in his heart, and he came to the door again very early in the +morning; but she met him calmly, with perfect comprehension of the +anxiety in his face. + +"You need not be afraid for me," she said. "I do not dare to be a +coward." + +And then she walked to the station, without one look back at the house +where she had known her greatest joy and greatest grief. + + * * * * * + +The summer had left spring far behind, when Gifford Woodhouse came to +Ashurst. + +He could not stay in Lockhaven; the tragedy of John Ward had thrown +a shadow upon him. The people did not forget that he was Mrs. Ward's +friend, and they made no doubt, the bolder ones said, that Lawyer +Woodhouse was an infidel, too. So he decided to take an office in Mercer. +This would make it possible for him to come back to Ashurst every +Saturday, and be with his aunts until Monday. + +Perhaps he did not know it, but Lockhaven shadows seemed deeper than +they really were because Mercer was only twelve miles from Lois Howe. +Not that that could mean anything more than just the pleasure of seeing +her sometimes. Gifford told himself he had no hope. He searched her +occasional letters in vain for the faintest hint that she would be glad +to see him. "If there were the slightest chance of it," he said, with a +sigh, "of course I'd know it. She promised. I suppose she was awfully +attached to that puppy." + +However, in spite of hopelessness, he went to Mercer, and soon it became +a matter of course that he should drop in at the rectory every Sunday, +spending the evening with Helen after Dr. Howe and Lois had gone to +church. + +Helen never went. "I cannot," she said to Gifford once; "the service is +beautiful and stately, and full of pleasant associations, but it is +outside of my life. If I had ever been intensely religious, it would be +different, I suppose,--I should care for it as a sacred past; but it was +never more than pleasant. What I called my spiritual life had no reality +to me. And now, surely, I cannot go, when I have no faith at all." + +"I think you will go, some day, Helen," Gifford said thoughtfully; "the +pendulum has to swing very far away from the extreme which you have seen +before the perfect balance comes. And I think you make a mistake when you +say you have no faith. Perhaps you have no creed, but faith, it seems to +me, is not the holding of certain dogmas; it is simply openness and +readiness of heart to believe any truth which God may show." + +They were sitting on the porch at the rectory; the fragrant dusk of the +garden was beginning to melt into trembling light as the moon rose, and +the last flush of sunset faded behind the hills. Helen had a soft white +wrap over her black dress, but Gifford had thought it was cool enough to +throw a gray shawl across her feet; he himself was bareheaded, and sat on +the steps, clasping his knees with his hands. + +"Perhaps so," Helen said, "but I think I am like a person who walks along +in the dark, yet looks toward the east. I will not comfort myself with +little candles of memory or desire, and say, 'This is light!' Perhaps +light will never come to my eyes, but I will wait, for I believe there is +light somewhere." + +It was much for Helen to say this. No one had guessed what was behind her +reserve on such subjects; perhaps no one had very greatly cared. + +"Gifford!" she said suddenly. He looked up, surprised at her tone. + +"Yes, Helen?" + +"I wish," she said, "I wish you were as happy as you deserve to be." + +He knew what she meant, and would not repay her confidence by pretending +not to understand. "Well, I'm not as happy as I desire, perhaps, but no +doubt I'm as happy as I deserve." + +"No," she answered, "you are not. And oh, Gifford, there is so much +sorrow in the world, the only thing which makes life possible is love, +because that is the only thing which does not change." + +"I am afraid it can never be for me," he said, after a moment's silence, +"except the joy of giving love." + +"Why?" she asked gently. + +Gifford did not speak; he rose, and began to pace up and down in front of +the porch, crossing and recrossing the square of light which fell from +the open hall door. "I ought not to talk about it," he said at last. +"I've got it down at the very bottom of my life, a sort of foundation +stone on which to build noble things. Your words make it spring up into +a whole palace of beauty; but it is in the air,--it is in the air! You +know what I mean: it must always be giving with me; she will never care. +She never could, having loved once. And it is curious, Helen, but in a +certain paradoxical way I'm content she shouldn't. She would not be the +woman she is, if she could love twice." + +Helen smiled in the darkness. "Gifford"--she began. + +But he interrupted her, flinging his head back, in impatient despair. +"No, it cannot be, or it would have been, don't you see? Don't encourage +me, Helen; the kindest thing you can do is to kill any hope the instant +it shows its head. There was a time, I was fool enough to think--it was +just after the engagement was broken. But I soon saw from her letters +there was no chance for me." + +"But Gifford,"--Helen almost forgot to protect Lois, in her anxiety to +help him,--"you must not think that. They were never engaged." + +Gifford stood still and looked at her; then he said something in a low +voice, which she could not hear. + +"I must not say another word," she said hurriedly. "I've no right even +to speak as I did. But oh, Gifford, I could not see you lose a chance +of happiness. Life is so short, and there is so much sorrow! I even +selfishly wanted the happiness of your joy, for my own sake." + +Still Gifford did not speak; he turned sharply on his heel, and began his +restless walk. His silence was getting unbearable, when he stopped, and +said gently, "I thank you, Helen. I do not understand it all, but that's +no matter. Only, don't you see, it doesn't make any difference? If she +had been going to care, I should have known it long ago." + +This was very vague to Helen; she wondered if Lois had refused him again. +But Gifford began to talk quietly of his life in Mercer, and she did not +venture to say anything more. "After all, they must work out their own +salvation," she thought. "No one can help them, when they both know the +facts." + +She listened a little absently to Gifford, who was speaking of the lack +of any chance for advancement in Mercer. "But really," he added, "I ought +not to go too far away from my aunts, now; and I believe that the highest +development of character can come from the most commonplace necessities +of life." Helen sighed; she wondered if this commonplace of Ashurst +were her necessity? For again she was searching for her place in the +world,--the place that needed her, and was to give her the happiness of +usefulness; and she had even thought vaguely that she might find some +work in Lockhaven, among John's people, and for them. They both fell into +the silence of their own thoughts, until the rector and his daughter came +back from church, and Gifford went home. + +That next week was a thoughtful one with Gifford Woodhouse; Helen's words +had stirred those buried hopes, and it was hard to settle back into a +life of renunciation. He was strangely absent-minded in his office. One +day Willie Denner, who had come to read law, and was aspiring to be his +clerk, found him staring out of the window, with a new client's papers +lying untouched before him. After all, he thought, would it be wrong, +would it trouble Lois (he had said he should never trouble her), if he +just told her how the thought of her helped him, how she was a continual +inspiration in his life? "If I saw it bothered her, I could stop," he +argued. + +And so, reasoning with himself, he rode over from Mercer late that +Saturday night. The little ladies were, as usual, delighted to see him. +These weekly visits were charming; their nephew could be admired and +fussed over to their hearts' content, but was off again before they had +time to feel their small resources at an end. The next morning he +dutifully went to church with them. Sunday was a proud day for the Misses +Woodhouse; each took an arm of the young man, whose very size made him +imposing, and walked in a stately way to the door of St. Michael's. They +would gladly have been supported by him to their pew, but it would have +been, Miss Deborah said, really flaunting their nephew in the faces of +less fortunate families, for Ashurst could not boast of another young +man. + +Miss Ruth wore her new bonnet that day in honor of his presence. She had +taken it from the bandbox and carefully removed its wrapping of tissue +paper, looking anxiously at the clouds as she smoothed the lavender +strings and pinched the white asters on the side, before she decided that +it was safe to wear it. + +Gifford looked up the rectory lane as they drew near the church, and +Miss Deborah noticed it. "Giff, dear," she asked, "did you observe, last +Sunday, how ill poor little Lois looked?" + +"No," he said, somewhat startled. + +"Ah, yes," said Miss Ruth, nodding her head so that the white asters +trembled, "she has never really gotten over that disappointment about +young Forsythe." + +"But she was not engaged to him," responded Gifford boldly. + +"Not engaged," Miss Deborah admitted, "but she fully expected to be. +He did not treat her honorably; there is no doubt of that. But her +affections were unalterably his." + +"How do you know that?" demanded her nephew. + +"Why, my dear child," said Miss Ruth, "there is no doubt of it. Adele +Dale told dear Deborah the whole story. Of course she had it from Lois." + +"Not that it makes the slightest difference in my position," Gifford +thought, as he sat crowding down the pain of it, and looking at Lois, +sitting in the rosy light of the window of the left transept. "I am just +where I was before, and I'll tell her, if it does not seem to bother +her." + +After church, there was the usual subdued gossip about the door, and +while Gifford waited for his aunts, who had something to say to the +rector, he listened to Mrs. Dale, who said in her incisive voice, "Isn't +it too bad Helen isn't here? I should think, whether she wanted to or +not, she'd come for her husband's sake." Even the apology of death had +not made Mrs. Dale pardon John Ward. + +But Mr. Dale mildly interjected,--"She would stay away for his sake, if +she did not really want to come." + +To which Mrs. Dale responded, "Fudge!" + +Miss Deborah also spoke of her absence to Lois. "Sorry dear Helen is not +here, but of course Gifford will see her to-night. He does so enjoy his +evenings with her. Well, they are both young--and I have my thoughts!" + +So, with the utmost innocence, Miss Deborah had planted the seeds of +hopelessness and jealousy in the hearts of both these young people. +Gifford spent the rest of the long, still Sunday wandering restlessly +through the house, and changing his mind about speaking to Lois every few +minutes. Lois was very distant that evening at the rectory, so Gifford +talked mostly to Helen. There was no chance to say what he had intended, +and he made none. + +"Well," he said to himself as he went home, not caring to stay and talk +to Helen when Lois had gone to church,--"well, it is all a muddle. I +don't understand about there being no engagement, but I cannot help +remembering that she cared, though I have no business to. And she cares +yet. Oh, what a confounded idiot I am!" + +He told his aunts he was going to make an early start the next morning. +"I shall be off before you are up. I guess Sarah will give me something +to eat. And, aunt Deborah, I don't know that I can get over next week." + +The little ladies protested, but they were secretly very proud that his +business should occupy him so much. + +There was a silver mist across the hills, when Gifford led his horse out +of the barn the next morning, and the little sharp paving-stones in the +stable-yard, with thin lines of grass between them, were shining with +dew. The morning-glories about the kitchen porch had flung their rosy +horns toward the east, as though to greet the sunrise. Sarah stood under +them, surveying the young man regretfully. "Your aunts won't half like +it, Mr. Gifford," she said, "that you wouldn't eat a proper breakfast." + +But he put his foot in the stirrup, and flung himself into his saddle. He +was too much absorbed in his own concerns to reflect that Miss Deborah +would be distressed if her Scotch collops were slighted, and that was not +like Gifford. However, he was young and a man, so his grief did not +prevent him from lighting a cigarette. The reins fell on the horse's neck +as he climbed East Hill, and Gifford turned, with one hand on the bay's +broad flanks, to look down at Ashurst. The valley was still full of mist, +that flushed and trembled into gold before it disappeared at the touch of +the sun. There was a flutter of birds' wings in the bushes along the +road, and the light wind made the birch leaves flicker and dance; but +there was hardly another sound, for his horse walked deliberately in the +grass beside the road, until suddenly a dog barked. Gifford drew his rein +sharply. "That was Max!" he said, and looked about for him, even rising a +little in his stirrups, "How fond she is of the old fellow!" he thought. + +In another moment the dog ran across the road, his red coat marked with +dew; then the bushes were pushed aside, and his mistress followed him. + +"Why, Gifford!" she said. + +"Why, Lois!" he exclaimed with her, and then they looked at each other. + +The young man threw away his cigarette, and, springing from his horse, +slipped the reins over his arm, and walked beside her. + +"Are you going away?" Lois asked. "But it is so early!" + +She had her little basket in her hand, and she was holding her blue print +gown up over a white petticoat, to keep it from the wet grass. Her broad +hat was on the back of her head, and the wind had blown the curls around +her face into a sunny tangle, and made her cheeks as fresh as a wild +rose. + +"You are the early one, it seems to me," he answered, smiling. + +"I've come to get mushrooms for father," she explained. "It is best to +get them early, while the dew is on them. There are a good many around +that little old ruin further up the road, you know." + +"Yes, I know," he said. (He felt himself suddenly in a tumult of +uncertainty. "It would be no harm just to say a word," he thought. "Why +shouldn't she know--no matter if she can never care herself--that I care? +It would not trouble her. No, I am a fool to think of it,--I won't.") +"But it is so early for you to be out alone," he said. "Do you take care +of her, Max?" + +"Max is a most constant friend," Lois replied; "he never leaves me." Then +she blushed, lest Gifford should think that she had thought he was not +constant. + +But Gifford's thoughts were never so complicated. With him, it was +either, "She loves me," or, "She does not;" he never tormented himself, +after the fashion of women, by wondering what this look meant, or that +inflection, and fearing that the innermost recesses of his mind might be +guessed from a calm and indifferent face. + +"You see the old chimney?" Lois said, as they drew near the small ruin. +"Some mushrooms grow right in on the hearth." + +It was rather the suggestion of a ruin, for the walls were not standing; +only this stone chimney with the wide, blackened fireplace, and the flat +doorstones before what was once the threshold. Grass and brambles +covered the foundations; lilacs, with spikes of brown dead blossoms, grew +tall and thick around it, and roses, gone back to wild singleness, +blossomed near the steps and along a path, which was only a memory, the +grass had tangled so above it. + +Max kept his nose under Lois's hand, and the horse stumbled once over +a stone that had rolled from the broken foundation and hidden itself +beneath a dock. The mushrooms had opened their little shining brown +umbrellas, as Lois had said, on the very hearth, and she stooped down to +gather them and put them in her basket of sweet grass. From the bushes at +one side came the sudden note of a bob-white; Max pricked his ears. + +"Lois," Gifford said abruptly, still telling himself that he was a +fool,--but then, it was all so commonplace, so free from sentiment, so +public, with Max, and the horse, and the bob-white, it could not trouble +her just to--"Lois, I'd like--I'd like to tell you something, if you +don't mind." + +"What?" she said pleasantly; her basket was full, and they began to walk +back to the road again. + +Gifford stopped to let his horse crop the thick wet grass about a fallen +gate-post. He threw his arm over the bay's neck, and Lois leaned her +elbows on the other post, swinging her basket lightly while she waited +for him to speak. The mist had quite gone by this time, and the sky was a +fresh, clear blue. "Well," he began, suddenly realizing that this was a +great deal harder than he had supposed ("She'll think I'm going to +bother her with a proposal," he thought),--"well, the fact is, Lois, +there's something I want you to know. Perhaps it doesn't really interest +you, in one way; I mean, it is only a--a happiness of my own, and it +won't make any difference in our friendship, but I wanted you to know +it." + +In a moment Miss Deborah's suggestion was a certainty to Lois. She +clasped her hands tight around the handle of her grass basket; Gifford +should not see them tremble. "I'm sure I'll be glad to hear anything that +makes you happy." + +Her voice had a dull sound in her own ears. + +"Helen put it into my head to tell you," Gifford went on nervously. "I +hope you won't feel that I am not keeping my word"-- + +She held her white chin a little higher. "I don't know of any 'word,' as +you call it, that there is for you to keep, Gifford." + +"Why, that I would not trouble you, you know, Lois," he faltered. "Have +you forgotten?" + +"What!" Lois exclaimed, with a start, and a thrill in her voice. + +"But I am sure," he said hurriedly, "it won't make you unhappy just to +know that it is still an inspiration in my life, and that it always will +be, and that love, no matter if"-- + +"Oh, wait a minute, Giff!" Lois cried, her eyes shining like stars +through sudden tears, and her breath quick. "I--I--why, don't you know, +I was to--don't you remember--my promise?" + +"Lois!" he said, almost in a whisper. He dropped the bay's rein, and came +and took her hand, his own trembling. + +"I know what you were going to say," she began, her face turned away so +that he could only see the blush which had crept up to her temple, "but +I"--He waited, but she did not go on. Then he suddenly took her in his +arms and kissed her without a word; and Max, and the horse, and the +bob-white looked on with no surprise, for after all it was only part of +the morning, and the sunrise, and Nature herself. + +"And to think that it's I!" Lois said a minute afterward. + +"Why, who else could it be?" cried Gifford rapturously. + +But Lois shook her head; even in her joy she was ashamed of herself. "I +won't even remember it," she thought. + +Of course there were many explanations. Each was astonished at the other +for not having understood; but Lois's confession of her promise to Mrs. +Forsythe made all quite clear, though it left a look that was almost +stern behind the joy in Gifford's eyes. + +"You know I couldn't help it, Giff," she ended. + +But he did not speak. + +"It wasn't wrong," she said. "You see how it was,--you don't think it was +wrong?" + +"Yes, I do, Lois," he answered. + +"Oh!" she cried; and then, "But you made me!" + +"I?" he exclaimed, bewildered. + +And then she told him how his acknowledgment of her fault drove her into +a desire for atonement. "You know, you think I'm wrong pretty often," +she added shyly; and then they mutually forgave each other. + +"I suppose I did find a good deal of fault," Gifford admitted, humbly, +"but it was always because I loved you." + +"Oh!" said Lois. + +But there was so much to say they might have talked until noon, except +that, as they had neither of them breakfasted, and happiness and morning +air are the best sort of tonics, they began to think of going to the +rectory. Gifford had quite forgotten the business in Mercer which needed +him so early. + +"Father won't have mushrooms with his steak to-day," Lois commented, +looking ruefully at the little basket, which she still held in her hand. + +They stopped at the roadside, walking hand in hand like two children, and +looked back at the ruin. "It was a home once," Gifford said, "and there +was love there; and so it begins over again for us,--love, and happiness, +and all of life." + +"Oh, Giff," the girl said softly, "I don't deserve"-- + +But that, of course, he would not hear. When they came to the rectory +gate,--and never did it take so long to walk from East Hill to the +rectory,--Gifford said, "Now let's go and tell Helen; we've kept her out +of our joy too long." They met her in the cool, dusky hall, and Gifford, +taking her hand, said gently, "Be glad, too, Helen!" + +Lois had put her arms about her cousin, and without further words Helen +knew. + + * * * * * + +And so Helen Ward's duty came to her, the blessedness and helpfulness of +being needed; when Lois went to her new home, Helen would be necessary +to her uncle, and to be necessary would save her life from hardness. +There need be no thought of occupation now. When Mr. Dale heard the news, +he said his congratulations were not only for Lois and Gifford, but for +Helen, and after that for Ashurst. + + * * * * * + +A genuine Ashurst engagement was a great thing, and the friends of the +young people received it in their several ways. Dr. Howe was surprised, +but disposed to make the best of it. "This is always the way," he said, +with his big, jolly laugh: "a man brings up his girls, and then, just as +soon as they get old enough to amount to something and be a comfort to +him, some other man comes along and carries them off. What? Mind, now, +Gifford, don't you go further away than Mercer!" + +As for Mrs. Dale, she was delighted. "It is what I have always wanted; it +is the one thing I've tried to bring about; and if Lois will do as I tell +her, and be guided by a wiser head than her own, I have no doubt she will +be very reasonably happy." + +"Doesn't a woman expect to be guided by her husband?" Mr. Dale asked. + +"When he has sense enough," responded his wife significantly. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were greatly pleased. "Of course they are very +young," said Miss Deborah, "but I'll have an eye to the housekeeping +until Lois gets older. Fortunately, they'll be so far away from dear +Adele, she cannot interfere much. Even with the best intentions in the +world, a girl's relations shouldn't meddle." + +"They seem very much in love, sister," said Miss Ruth thoughtfully. + +"Well, really, dear Ruth," replied her sister, "you are hardly capable of +judging of that; but you happen to be right; they are as much attached +as one can expect young people to be." + +But Miss Ruth, as she stood that night before her cherry-wood +dressing-table, its brass rings glimmering in the candle-light, opened +Mr. Denner's daguerreotype, and, looking wistfully at the youthful face +behind the misty glass, said softly to herself, "Ah, well, it's good to +be young." + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Ward, Preacher, by Margaret Deland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN WARD, PREACHER *** + +***** This file should be named 18478-8.txt or 18478-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/7/18478/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Ward, Preacher + +Author: Margaret Deland + +Release Date: May 31, 2006 [EBook #18478] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN WARD, PREACHER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + +<h1>JOHN WARD, PREACHER</h1> + +<h2>BY MARGARET DELAND</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "THE OLD GARDEN"</h3> + + + + +<h4>NEW YORK<br /> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> +PUBLISHERS</h4> + + +<h4>Copyright, 1888,<br /> +By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.<br /> +<i>All rights reserved.</i></h4> + + + +<h4>To LORIN DELAND<br /> +This Book<br /> +ALREADY MORE HIS THAN MINE<br /> +IS DEDICATED.<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, <i>December 25th, 1887</i>.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>JOHN WARD, PREACHER.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sent my soul through the invisible,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some letter of that after-life to spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by and by my soul returned to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And answered, "I myself am Heav'n and Hell"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Omar Khayyám</span>.</span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>The evening before Helen Jeffrey's wedding day, the whole household at +the rectory came out into the garden.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said Dr. Howe, smiling good-naturedly at his niece, "the +importance of this occasion has made everybody so full of suppressed +excitement one can't breathe in the house."</p> + +<p>And indeed a wedding in Ashurst had all the charm of novelty. "Why, bless +my soul," said the rector, "let me see: it must be ten—no, twelve years +since Mary Drayton was married, and that was our last wedding. Well, we +couldn't stand such dissipation oftener; it would wake us up."</p> + +<p>But Ashurst rather prided itself upon being half asleep. The rush and +life of newer places had a certain vulgarity; haste was undignified, it +was almost ill bred, and the most striking thing about the village, +resting at the feet of its low green hills, was its atmosphere of leisure +and repose.</p> + +<p>Its grassy road was nearly two miles long, so that Ashurst seemed to +cover a great deal of ground, though there were really very few houses. +A lane, leading to the rectory, curled about the foot of East Hill at one +end of the road, and at the other was the brick-walled garden of the +Misses Woodhouse.</p> + +<p>Between these extremes the village had slowly grown; but its first youth +was so far past, no one quite remembered it, and even the trying stage of +middle age was over, and its days of growth were ended. This was perhaps +because of its distance from the county town, for Mercer was twelve miles +away, and there was no prospect of a railroad to unite them. It had been +talked of once; some of the shopkeepers, as well as Mr. Lash, the +carpenter, advocated it strenuously at Bulcher's grocery store in the +evenings, because, they said, they were at the mercy of Phibbs, the +package man, who brought their wares on his slow, creaking cart over the +dusty turnpike from Mercer. But others, looking into the future, objected +to a convenience which might result in a diminution of what little trade +they had. Among the families, however, who did not have to consider +"trade" there was great unanimity, though the Draytons murmured something +about the increased value of the land; possibly not so much with a view +to the welfare of Ashurst as because their property extended along the +proposed line of the road.</p> + +<p>The rector was very firm in his opinion. "Why," said he, mopping his +forehead with his big silk handkerchief, "what do we want with a +railroad? My grandfather never thought of such a thing, so I think I can +get along without it, and it is a great deal better for the village not +to have it."</p> + +<p>It would have cut off one corner of his barn; and though this could not +have interfered with the material or spiritual welfare of Ashurst, Dr. +Howe's opinion never wavered. And the rector but expressed the feelings +of the other "families," so that all Ashurst was conscious of relief when +the projectors of the railroad went no further than to make a cut at one +end of the Drayton pastures; and that was so long ago that now the earth, +which had shown a ragged yellow wound across the soft greenness of the +meadows, was sown by sweet clover and wild roses, and gave no sign of +ever having been gashed by picks and shovels.</p> + +<p>The Misses Woodhouse's little orchard of gnarled and wrinkled apple-trees +came to the edge of the cut on one side, and then sloped down to the +kitchen garden and back door of their old house, which in front was shut +off from the road by a high brick wall, gray with lichens, and crumbling +in places where the mortar had rotted under the creepers and ivy, which +hung in heavy festoons over the coping. The tall iron gates had not been +closed for years, and, rusting on their hinges, had pressed back against +the inner wall, and were almost hidden by the tangle of vines, that were +woven in and out of the bars, and waved about in the sunshine from their +tops.</p> + +<p>The square garden which the wall inclosed was full of cool, green +darkness; the trees were the growth of three generations, and the +syringas and lilacs were so thick and close they had scarcely light +enough for blossoming. The box borders, which edged the straight prim +walks, had grown, in spite of clippings, to be almost hedges, so that the +paths between them were damp, and the black, hard earth had a film of +moss over it. Old-fashioned flowers grew just where their ancestors had +stood fifty years before. "I could find the bed of white violets with my +eyes shut," said Miss Ruth Woodhouse; and she knew how far the lilies of +the valley spread each spring, and how much it would be necessary to +clip, every other year, the big arbor vitæ, so that the sunshine might +fall upon her bunch of sweet-williams.</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth was always very generous with her flowers, but now that there +was to be a wedding at the rectory she meant to strip the garden of every +blossom she could find, and her nephew was to take them to the church the +first thing in the morning.</p> + +<p>Gifford Woodhouse had lately returned from Europe, and his three years' +travel had not prepared his aunts to treat him as anything but the boy he +seemed to them when he left the law school. They still "sent dear Giff" +here, or "brought him" there, and arranged his plans for him, in entire +unconsciousness that he might have a will of his own. Perhaps the big +fellow's silence rather helped the impression, for so long as he did not +remonstrate when they bade him do this or that, it was not of so much +consequence that, in the end, he did exactly as he pleased. This was not +often at variance with the desires of the two sisters, for the wordless +influence of his will so enveloped them that his wishes were apt to be +theirs. But no one could have been more surprised than the little ladies, +had they been told that their nephew's intention of practicing law in the +lumber town of Lockhaven had been his own idea.</p> + +<p>They had cordially agreed with him when he observed that another lawyer +in Ashurst, beside Mr. Denner, would have no other occupation than to +make his own will; and they had nodded approvingly when the young man +added that it would seem scarcely gracious to settle in Mercer while Mr. +Denner still hoped to find clients there, and sat once a week, for an +hour, in a dingy back office waiting for them. True, they never came; but +Gifford had once read law with Mr. Denner, and knew and loved the little +gentleman, so he could not do a thing which might appear discourteous. +And when he further remarked that there seemed to be a good opening in +Lockhaven, which was a growing place, and that it would be very jolly to +have Helen Jeffrey there when she became Mrs. Ward, the two Misses +Woodhouse smiled, and said firmly that they approved of it, and that they +would send him to Lockhaven in the spring, and they were glad they had +thought of it.</p> + +<p>On this June night, they had begged him to take a message to the rectory +about the flowers for the wedding. "He is glad enough to go, poor child," +said Miss Deborah, sighing, when she saw the alacrity with which he +started; "he feels her marriage very much, though he is so young."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure, dear Deborah?" asked Miss Ruth, doubtfully. "I never +really felt quite certain that he was interested in her."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I am," answered Miss Deborah, sharply. "I've always maintained +they were made for each other."</p> + +<p>But Gifford Woodhouse's pleasant gray eyes, under straight brown brows, +showed none of the despair of an unsuccessful lover; on the contrary, he +whistled softly through his blonde moustache, as he came along the +rectory lane, and then walked down the path to join the party in the +garden.</p> + +<p>The four people who had gathered at the foot of the lawn were very +silent; Dr. Howe, whose cigar glowed and faded like a larger firefly than +those which were beginning to spangle the darkness, was the only one +ready to talk. "Well," he said, knocking off his cigar ashes on the arm +of his chair, "everything ready for to-morrow, girls? Trunks packed and +gowns trimmed? We'll have to keep you, Helen, to see that the house is +put in order after all this turmoil; don't you think so, Lois?"</p> + +<p>Here the rector yawned secretly.</p> + +<p>"You needn't worry about <i>order</i>, father," Lois said, lifting her head +from her cousin's shoulder, her red lower lip pouting a little, "but I +wish we could keep Helen."</p> + +<p>"Do you hear that, Mr. Ward?" the rector said. "Yes, we're all going to +miss the child very much. Gifford Woodhouse was saying to-day Ashurst +would lose a great deal when she went. There's a compliment for you, +Helen! How that fellow has changed in these three years abroad! He's +quite a man, now. Why, how old is he? It's hard for us elders to realize +that children grow up."</p> + +<p>"Giff is twenty-six," Lois said.</p> + +<p>"Why, to be sure," said Dr. Howe, "so he is! Of course, I might have +known it: he was born the year your brother was, Lois, and he would have +been twenty-six if he'd lived. Nice fellow, Gifford is. I'm sorry he's +not going to practice in Mercer. He has a feeling that it might interfere +with Denner in some way. But dear me, Denner never had a case outside +Ashurst in his life. Still, it shows good feeling in the boy; and I'm +glad he's going to be in Lockhaven. He'll keep an eye on Helen, and let +us know if she behaves with proper dignity. I think you'll like him, Mr. +Ward,—I would say John,—my dear fellow!"</p> + +<p>There was a lack of sympathy on the part of the rector for the man at his +side, which made it difficult for him to drop the formal address, and +think of him as one of the family. "I respect Ward," he said once to his +sister,—"I can't help respecting him; but bless my soul, I wish he was +more like other people!" There was something about the younger man, Dr. +Howe did not know just what, which irritated him. Ward's earnestness was +positively aggressive, he said, and there seemed a sort of undress of the +mind in his entire openness and frankness; his truthfulness, which +ignored the courteous deceits of social life, was a kind of impropriety.</p> + +<p>But John Ward had not noticed either the apology or the omission; no one +answered the rector, so he went on talking, for mere occupation.</p> + +<p>"I always liked Gifford as a boy," he said; "he was such a manly fellow, +and no blatherskite, talking his elders to death. He never had much to +say, and when he did talk it was to the point. I remember once seeing +him—why, let me see, he couldn't have been more than fifteen—breaking a +colt in the west pasture. It was one of Bet's fillies, and as black as a +coal: you remember her, don't you, Lois?—a beauty! I was coming home +from the village early in the morning; somebody was sick,—let me see, +wasn't it old Mrs. Drayton? yes,—and I'd been sent for; it must have +been about six,—and there was Gifford struggling with that young mare in +the west pasture. He had thrown off his coat, and caught her by the mane +and a rope bridle, and he was trying to ride her. That blonde head of his +was right against her neck, and when she reared he clung to her till she +lifted him off his feet. He got the best of her, though, and the first +thing she knew he was on her back. Jove! how she did plunge! but he +mastered her; he sat superbly. I felt Gifford had the making of a man in +him, after that. He inherits his father's pluck. You know Woodhouse made +a record at Lookout Mountain; he was killed the third day."</p> + +<p>"Gifford used to say," said Helen, "that he wished he had been born in +time to go into the army."</p> + +<p>"There's a good deal of fight in the boy," said the rector, chuckling. +"His aunts were always begging him not to get into rows with the village +boys. I even had to caution him myself. 'Never fight, sir,' I'd say; 'but +if you do fight, whip 'em!' Yes, it's a pity he couldn't have been in the +army."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lois, impatiently, "Giff would have fought, I know, but +he's so contradictory! I've heard him say the Southerners couldn't help +fighting for secession; it was a principle to them, and there was no +moral wrong about it, he said."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense!" cried the rector; "these young men, who haven't borne the +burden and heat of the day, pretend to instruct us, do they? No moral +wrong? I thought Gifford had some sense! They were condemned by God and +man."</p> + +<p>"But, uncle Archie," Helen said, slowly, "if they thought they were +right, you can't say there was a moral wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, come," said Dr. Howe, with an indignant splutter, "you don't +understand these things my dear,—you're young yet, Helen. They were +wrong through and through; so don't be absurd." Then turning half +apologetically to John Ward, he added, "You'll have to keep this child's +ideas in order; I'm sure she never heard such sentiments from me. Mr. +Ward will think you haven't been well brought up, Helen. Principle? +Twaddle! their pockets were what they thought of. All this talk of +principle is rubbish."</p> + +<p>The rector's face was flushed, and he brought his fist down with emphasis +upon the arm of his chair.</p> + +<p>"And yet," said John Ward, lifting his thoughtful dark eyes to Dr. Howe's +handsome face, "I have always sympathized with a mistaken idea of duty, +and I am sure that many Southerners felt they were only doing their duty +in fighting for secession and the perpetuation of slavery."</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you, sir," said Dr. Howe, whose ideas of hospitality +forbade more vigorous speech, but his bushy gray eyebrows were drawn into +a frown.</p> + +<p>"I think you are unfair not to admit that," John continued with gentle +persistence, while the rector looked at him in silent astonishment, and +the two young women smiled at each other in the darkness. ("The idea of +contradicting father!" Lois whispered.) "They felt," he went on, "that +they had found authority for slavery in the Bible, so what else could +they do but insist upon it?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Dr. Howe, forgetting himself, "the Bible never taught +any such wicked thing. They believed in states rights, and they wanted +slavery."</p> + +<p>"But," John said, "if they did believe the Bible permitted slavery, what +else could they do? Knowing that it is the inspired word of God, and that +every action of life is to be decided by it, they had to fight for an +institution which they believed sacred, even if their own judgment and +inclination did not concede that it was right. If you thought the Bible +taught that slavery was right, what could you do?"</p> + +<p>"I never could think anything so absurd," the rector answered, a shade of +contempt in his good-natured voice.</p> + +<p>"But if you did," John insisted, "even if you were unable to see that it +was right,—if the Bible taught it, inculcated it?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe laughed impatiently, and flung the end of his cigar down into +the bushes, where it glowed for a moment like an angry eye. "I—I? Oh, +I'd read some other part of the book," he said. "But I refuse to think +such a crisis possible; you can always find some other meaning in a text, +you know."</p> + +<p>"But, uncle Archie," Helen said, "if one did think the Bible taught +something to which one's conscience or one's reason could not assent, it +seems to me there could be only one thing to do,—give up the Bible!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Dr. Howe, "don't be so extreme, Helen. There would be many +things to do; leave the consideration of slavery, or whatever the +supposed wrong was, until you'd mastered all the virtues of the Bible: +time enough to think of an alternative then,—eh, Ward? Well, thank +Heaven, the war's over, or we'd have you a rank copperhead. Come! it's +time to go into the house. I don't want any heavy eyes for to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"What a speech for a minister's wife, Helen!" Lois cried, as they rose. +"What <i>would</i> people say if they heard you announce that you 'would give +up the Bible'?"</p> + +<p>"I hope no one will ever hear her say anything so foolish," said Dr. +Howe, but John Ward looked at Lois in honest surprise.</p> + +<p>"Would it make any difference what people said?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wasn't speaking very seriously," Lois answered, laughing, "but +still, one does not like to say anything which is unusual, you know, +about such things. And of course Helen doesn't really mean that she'd +give up the Bible."</p> + +<p>"But I do," Helen interrupted, smiling; and she might have said more, +for she could not see John's troubled look in the darkness, but Gifford +Woodhouse came down the path to meet them and give Miss Ruth's message.</p> + +<p>"Just in time, young man," said the rector, as Gifford silently took some +of John's burden of shawls and cushions, and turned and walked beside +him. "Here's Helen giving Ward an awful idea of her orthodoxy; come and +vouch for the teaching you get at St. Michael's."</p> + +<p>Gifford laughed. "What is orthodoxy, doctor?" he said. "I'm sure I don't +know!"</p> + +<p>"'The hungry sheep look up and are not fed,'" quoted the rector in a +burlesque despair. "Why, what we believe, boy,—what <i>we</i> believe! The +rest of my flock know better, Mr. Ward, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"I don't think we know what we do believe, uncle," Helen said lightly.</p> + +<p>"This grows worse and worse," said the rector. "Come, Helen, when an +intelligent young woman, I might say a bright young woman, makes a +commonplace speech, it is a mental yawn, and denotes exhaustion. You and +Lois are tired; run up-stairs. Vanish! I say. Good night, dear child, and +God bless you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>Ashurst Rectory, in a green seclusion of vines and creepers, stood close +to the lane,—Strawberry Lane it was called, because of a tradition that +wild strawberries grew there. The richness of the garden was scarcely +kept in bounds by its high fence; the tops of the bushes looked over it, +and climbing roses shed their petals on the path below, and cherries, +blossoms, and fruit were picked by the passer-by. "There is enough for us +inside," said the rector.</p> + +<p>The house itself was of gray stone, which seemed to have caught, where it +was not hidden by Virginia creepers and wistaria, the mellow coloring of +the sunset light, which flooded it from a gap in the western hills. Its +dormer-windows, their roofs like brown caps bent about their ears, had +lattices opening outward; and from one of these Lois Howe, on the evening +of Helen's wedding day, had seen her father wandering about the garden, +with the red setter at his heels, and had gone down to join him.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said, as she wound her round young arm in his, which was +behind him, and held his stick, "if John Ward has a garden? I hope so; +Helen is so fond of flowers. But he never said anything about it; he just +went around as though he was in a dream. He was perfectly happy if he +could only look at Helen!"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's right," said the rector; "that's proper. What else would +you have? The fact is, Lois, you don't like Ward. Now, he is a good +fellow; yes, good is just the word for him. Bless my soul, there's a +pitch of virtue about him that is exhausting. But that's our fault," he +added candidly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll like him," Lois said quickly, "if he will just make Helen +happy."</p> + +<p>The rector shook his head. "I know how you feel," he said, "and I +acknowledge he is odd; that talk of his last night about slavery being +a righteous institution"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, he didn't say that, father," Lois interrupted.</p> + +<p>—"was preposterous," continued Dr. Howe, not noticing her; "but +he's earnest, he's sincere, and I have a great deal of respect for +earnestness. And look here, Lois, you must not let anybody see you are +not in sympathy with Helen's choice; be careful of that tongue of yours, +child. It's bad taste to make one's private disappointments public. I +wouldn't speak of it even to your aunt Deely, if I were you."</p> + +<p>He stooped down to pull some matted grass from about the roots of a +laburnum-tree, whose dark leaves were lighted by golden loops of +blossoms, "Thirty-eight years ago," he said, "your mother and I planted +this; we had just come home from our wedding journey, and she had brought +this slip from her mother's garden in Virginia. But dear me, I suppose +I've told you that a dozen times. What? How to-day brings back that trip +of ours! We came through Lockhaven, but it was by stage-coach. I remember +we thought we were so fortunate because the other two passengers got out +there, and we had the coach to ourselves. Your mother had a striped +ribbon, or gauze,—I don't know what you call it,—on her bonnet, and it +kept blowing out of the window of the coach, like a little flag. You +young people can go further in less time, when you travel, but you will +never know the charm of staging it through the mountains. I declare, I +haven't thought of it for years, but to-day brings it all back to me!"</p> + +<p>They had reached the rectory porch, and Dr. Howe settled himself in his +wicker chair and lighted his cigar, while Lois sat down on the steps, and +began to dig small holes in the gravel with the stick her father had +resigned to her.</p> + +<p>The flood of soft lamplight from the open hall door threw the portly +figure of the rector into full relief, and, touching Lois's head, as she +sat in the shadow at the foot of the steps, with a faint aureole, fell in +a broad bright square on the lawn in front of the house. They had begun +to speak again of the wedding, when the click of the gate latch and the +swinging glimmer of a lantern through the lilacs and syringas warned them +that some one was coming, and in another moment the Misses Woodhouse +and their nephew stepped across the square of light.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were quite unconscious that they gave the +impression of carrying Gifford about with them, rather than of being +supported by him, for each little lady had passed a determined arm +through one of his, and instead of letting her small hand, incased in its +black silk mitt, rest upon his sleeve, pressed it firmly to her breast.</p> + +<p>Ashurst was a place where friendships grew in simplicity as well as +strength with the years, and because these three people had been most of +the morning at the rectory, arranging flowers, or moving furniture about, +or helping with some dainty cooking, and then had gone to the church at +noon for the wedding, they saw no reason why they should not come again +in the evening. So the sisters had put on their second-best black silks, +and, summoning Gifford, had walked through the twilight to the rectory. +Miss Deborah Woodhouse had a genius for economy, which gave her great +pleasure and involved but slight extra expense to the household, and she +would have felt it a shocking extravagance to have kept on the dress she +had worn to the wedding. Miss Ruth, who was an artist, the sisters said, +and fond of pretty things, reluctantly followed her example.</p> + +<p>They sat down now on the rectory porch, and began to talk, in their +eager, delicate little voices, of the day's doings. They scarcely noticed +that their nephew and Lois had gone into the fragrant dusk of the garden. +It did not interest them that the young people should wish to see, as +Gifford had said, how the sunset light lingered behind the hills; and +when they had exhausted the subject of the wedding, Miss Ruth was anxious +to ask the rector about his greenhouse and the relative value of leaf +mould and bone dressing, so they gave no thought to the two who still +delayed among the flowers.</p> + +<p>This was not surprising. Gifford and Lois had known each other all their +lives. They had quarreled and made up with kisses, and later on had +quarreled and made up without the kisses, but they had always felt +themselves the most cordial and simple friends. Then had come the time +when Gifford must go to college, and Lois had only seen him in his short +vacations; and these gradually became far from pleasant. "Gifford has +changed," she said petulantly. "He is so polite to me," she complained to +Helen; not that Gifford had ever been rude, but he had been brotherly.</p> + +<p>He once asked her for a rose from a bunch she had fastened in her dress. +"Why don't you pick one yourself, Giff?" she said simply; and afterwards, +with a sparkle of indignant tears in her eyes and with a quick impatience +which made her an amusing copy of her father, she said to Helen, "I +suppose he meant to treat me as though I was some fine young lady. Why +can't he be just the old Giff?" And when he came back from Europe, she +declared he was still worse.</p> + +<p>Yet even in their estrangement they united in devotion to Helen. It was +to Helen they appealed in all their differences, which were many, and her +judgment was final; Lois never doubted it, even though Helen generally +thought Gifford was in the right. So now, when her cousin had left her, +she was at least sure of the young man's sympathy.</p> + +<p>She was glad that he was going to practice in Lockhaven; he would be near +Helen, and make the new place less lonely for her, she said, once. And +Helen had smiled, as though she could be lonely where John was!</p> + +<p>They walked now between the borders, where old-fashioned flowers crowded +together, towards the stone bench. This was a slab of sandstone, worn and +flaked by weather, and set on two low posts; it leaned a little against +the trunk of a silver-poplar tree, which served for a back, and it looked +like an altar ready for the sacrifice. The thick blossoming grass, which +the mower's scythe had been unable to reach, grew high about the corners; +three or four stone steps led up to it, but they had been laid so long +ago they were sunken at one side or the other, and almost hidden by moss +and wild violets. Quite close to the bench a spring bubbled out of the +hill-side, and ran singing through a hollowed locust log, which was mossy +green where the water had over-flowed, with a musical drip, upon the +grass underneath.</p> + +<p>They stood a moment looking towards the west, where a golden dust seemed +blown across the sky, up into the darkness; then Lois took her seat upon +the bench. "When do you think you will get off, Giff?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I'm not quite sure," he answered; he was sitting on one of the lower +steps, and leaning on his elbow in the grass, so that he might see her +face. "I suppose it will take a fortnight to arrange everything."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for that," Lois said, disappointedly. "I thought you would go +in a few days."</p> + +<p>Gifford was silent, and began to pick three long stems of grass and braid +them together. Lois sat absently twisting the fringe on one end of the +soft scarf of yellow crepe, which was knotted across her bosom, and fell +almost to the hem of her white dress.</p> + +<p>"I mean," she said, "I'm sorry Helen won't have you in Lockhaven. Of +course Ashurst will miss you. Oh, dear! how horrid it will be not to +have Helen here!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Gifford sympathetically, "you'll be awfully lonely."</p> + +<p>They were silent for a little while. Some white phlox in the girl's bosom +glimmered faintly, and its heavy fragrance stole out upon the warm air. +She pulled off a cluster of the star-like blossoms, and held them +absently against her lips. "You don't seem at all impatient to get away +from Ashurst, Giff," she said. "If I had been you, I should have gone to +Lockhaven a month ago; everything is so sleepy here. Oh, if I were a man, +wouldn't I just go out into the world!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Lockhaven can scarcely be called the world," Gifford answered in +his slow way.</p> + +<p>"But I should think you would want to go because it will be such a +pleasure to Helen to have you there," she said.</p> + +<p>Gifford smiled; he had twisted his braid of grass into a ring, and +had pushed it on the smallest of his big fingers, and was turning it +thoughtfully about. "I don't believe," he said, "that it will make the +slightest difference to Helen whether I am there or not. She has Mr. +Ward."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Lois said, "I hardly think even Mr. Ward can take the place of +father, and the rectory, and me. I know it will make Helen happier to +have somebody from home near her."</p> + +<p>"No," the young man said, with a quiet persistence, "it won't make the +slightest difference, Lois. She'll have the person she loves best in the +world; and with the person one loves best one could be content in the +desert of Sahara."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have a very high opinion of John Ward," Lois said, a thread +of anger in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I have," said Gifford; "but that isn't what I mean. It's love, not John +Ward, which means content. But you don't have a very high opinion of +him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I have," Lois said quickly; "only he isn't good enough for +Helen. I suppose, though, I'd say that of anybody. And he irritates me, +he is so different from other people. I don't think I do—adore him!"</p> + +<p>Gifford did not speak; he took another strand of grass, and began to +weave it round and round his little ring, to make it smaller.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I ought not to say that," she added; "of course I wouldn't to +any one but you."</p> + +<p>"You ought not to say it to me, Lois," he said.</p> + +<p>"Why? Isn't it true?" she said. "I don't think it is wrong to say he's +different; it's certainly true!" Gifford was silent. "Do you?" she +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gifford answered quietly; "and somehow it doesn't seem fair, don't +you know, to say anything about them, they are so happy; it seems as +though we ought not even to speak of them."</p> + +<p>Lois was divided between indignation at being found fault with and +admiration for the sentiment. "Well," she said, rather meekly for her, "I +won't say anything more; no doubt I'll like him when I know him better."</p> + +<p>"See if that fits your finger, Lois," her companion said, sitting up, and +handing her the little grass ring. She took it, smiling, and tried it on. +Gifford watched her with an intentness which made him frown; her bending +head was like a shadowy silhouette against the pale sky, and the little +curls caught the light in soft mist around her forehead.</p> + +<p>"But I'm glad for my own part, then," she went on, "to think of you with +Helen. You must tell me everything about her and about her life, when +you write; she won't do it herself."</p> + +<p>"I will," he answered, "if you let me write to you."</p> + +<p>Lois opened her eyes with surprise; here was this annoying formality +again, which Gifford's fault-finding seemed to have banished. "Let you +write?" she said impatiently. "Why, you know I depended on your writing, +Giff, and you must tell me everything you can think of. What's the good +of having a friend in Lockhaven, if you don't?"</p> + +<p>She had clasped her hands lightly on her knees, and was leaning forward a +little, looking at him; for he had turned away from her, and was pulling +at a bunch of violets. "I tell you what it is, Lois," he said; "I cannot +go away, and write to you, and not—and not tell you. I suppose I'm a +fool to tell you, but I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"Tell me what?" Lois asked, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Gifford burst out, rising, and standing beside her, his big figure +looming up in the darkness, "it's this talk of friendship, Lois, that I +cannot stand. You see, I love you."</p> + +<p>There was silence for one long moment. It was so still they could hear +the bubbling of the spring, like a soft voice, complaining in the +darkness. Then Lois said, under her breath, "Oh, Gifford!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," he went on, desperately. "I know you've never thought of +such a thing; somehow, I could not seem to make you see it,—you wouldn't +see it; but I do love you, and—and, Lois—if you could care, just a +little? I've loved you so long."</p> + +<p>Lois shrank back against the silver-poplar tree, and put her hands up to +her face. In a moment tenderness made the young man forget his anxiety. +"Did I startle you?" he said, sitting down beside her; but he did not +take her hand, as he might have done in their old frank friendship. "I'm +so sorry, but I couldn't help telling you. I know you've been unconscious +of it, but how could a fellow help loving you, Lois? And I couldn't go +away to Lockhaven and not know if there was any chance for me. Can you +care, a—little?"</p> + +<p>She did not speak until he said again, his voice trembling with a sudden +hope, "Won't you say one word, Lois?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Giff," she said, sitting up very straight, and looking at him, her +wet eyes shining in the darkness, "you know I care—I've always cared, +but not that way—and—and—you don't, Giff, you don't really—it's just +a fancy."</p> + +<p>"It is not a fancy," he answered quietly. "I knew I loved you that first +time I came home from college. But you were too young; it would not have +been right. And then before I went abroad, I tried to tell you once; but +I thought from the way you spoke you did not care. So I didn't say +anything more; but I love you, and I always shall."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gifford," Lois cried, with a voice full of distress, "you <i>mustn't</i>! +Why, don't you see? You're just like my brother. Oh, do please let us +forget all this, and let's be just as we used to be."</p> + +<p>"We cannot," he said gently. "But I won't make you unhappy; I won't speak +if you tell me to be silent."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do tell you to be silent," she said, in a relieved tone. +"I—could not, Giff. So we'll just forget it. Promise me you will forget +it?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head, with a slow smile. "You must forget it, if it will +make you any happier; but you cannot ask me to forget. I am happier to +remember. I shall always love you, Lois."</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't!" she cried again. "Why can't we have just the old +friendship? Indeed—indeed, it never could be anything else; and," with a +sudden break of tenderness in her voice, "I—I really am so fond of you, +Giff!"</p> + +<p>Here the young man smiled a little bitterly. Friendship separated them as +inexorably as though it had been hate!</p> + +<p>"And," the girl went on, gaining confidence as she spoke, for argument +cleared the air of sentiment, in which she felt as awkward as she was +unkind, "and you know there are a good many things you don't like in me; +you think I have lots of faults,—you know you do."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I do, in a way," he acknowledged; "but if I didn't love you so +much, Lois, I would not notice them."</p> + +<p>Lois held her head a little higher, but did not speak. He watched her +twist her fingers nervously together; she had forgotten to take off the +little ring of braided grass.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry, Giff," she said, to break the silence,—"oh, so sorry. +I—I can't forgive myself."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to forgive," he answered gently; "and you must not +distress yourself by thinking that I am unhappy. I am better, Lois, yes, +and happier, because I love you. It shall be an inspiration to me all my +life, even if you should forget all about me. But I want you to make me +one promise, will you?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated. "If I can, Giff;" and then, with sudden trustfulness, she +added, "Yes, I will. What is it?"</p> + +<p>She had risen, and was standing on the step above him. He looked at her +nervous little hands a moment, but did not touch them, and then he said, +"If the time ever comes when you can love me, tell me so. I ask you this, +Lois, because I cannot bear to distress you again by speaking words of +love you do not want to hear, and yet I can't help hoping; and I shall +always love you, but it shall be in silence. So if the day ever does come +when you can love me, promise to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she said, glad to grant something. "But, Gifford, dear, it +will never come; I must say that now."</p> + +<p>"But you promise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, soberly. "I promise."</p> + +<p>He looked at her steadily a moment. "God bless you, dear," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gifford!" cried the girl, and with a sudden impulse she stooped and +kissed his forehead; then, half frightened at what she had done, but not +yet regretting it, she brushed past him, and went swiftly up the path to +the rectory.</p> + +<p>The young man stood quite still a moment, with reverent head bent as +though he had received a benediction, and then turned and followed her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>Lois Howe's mind was in a strange tumult that night; the subtile thrill, +which is neither pain nor pride, and yet seems both, with which a young +woman hears for the first time that she is loved, stung through all her +consciousness of grief at having wounded her old friend. Tears came into +her eyes once, and yet she did not know why; perhaps it was anger. How +could Gifford have been so foolish as to talk that way, and make her have +to say what she did? The old friendship was what she wanted. And then +more tears came; and for the first time in her simple girlish life, Lois +could not understand her own heart.</p> + +<p>It was because Helen had gone away, she said to herself, and she was +tired; and that gave her the right to cry with all her heart, which was +a great relief.</p> + +<p>But Lois was young. The next morning, when she pushed back her windows, +she felt joy bubble up in her soul as unrestrainedly as though she had +never said a word to Gifford which could make his heart ache. The +resistance and spring of the climbing roses made her lean out to fasten +her lattices back, and a shower of dew sprinkled her hair and bosom; and +at the sudden clear song of the robin under the eaves, she stood +breathless a moment to listen, with that simple gladness of living which +is perhaps a supreme unselfishness in its entire unconsciousness of +individual joy.</p> + +<p>But like the rest of the world, Lois found that such moments do not last; +the remembrance of the night before forced itself upon her, and she +turned to go down-stairs, with a troubled face.</p> + +<p>Of course there is plenty to do the day after a wedding, and Lois was +glad to have the occupation; it was a relief to be busy.</p> + +<p>Ashurst ladies always washed the breakfast things themselves; no length +of service made it seem proper to trust the old blue china and the +delicate glass to the servants. So Lois wiped her cups and saucers, and +then, standing on a chair in the china-closet, put the dessert plates +with the fine gilt pattern borders, which had been used yesterday, on the +very back of the top shelf, in such a quick, decided way Jean trembled +for their safety.</p> + +<p>The rectory dining-room was low-studded, and lighted by one wide latticed +window, which had a cushioned seat, with a full valance of flowered +chintz; the dimity curtains were always pushed back, for Dr. Howe was +fond of sunshine. In the open fireplace, between the brasses, stood a +blue jug filled with white lilacs, and the big punch-bowl on the +sideboard was crowded with roses. There were antlers over the doors, and +the pictures on the walls were of game and fish, and on the floor was a +bear-skin, which was one of the rector's trophies.</p> + +<p>Lois stood by a side-table which held a great pan of hot water; she had +a long-handled mop in her hand and a soft towel over her arm, and she +washed and wiped some wine-glasses with slender twisted stems and +sparkling bowls, and then put them on their shelves in the corner closet, +where they gleamed and glittered in the sunshine, pouring through the +open window.</p> + +<p>She did not work as fast now, for things were nearly in order, and she +dreaded having nothing to do; her aunt, Mrs. Dale, would have said she +was dawdling, but Miss Deborah Woodhouse, who had come over to the +rectory early to see if she could be of use, said haste was not genteel, +and it was a pleasure to see a young person who was deliberate in her +movements.</p> + +<p>"But you must let me help you, my dear," she added, taking off her +gloves, and pulling the fingers straight and smooth.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Miss Deborah, there is nothing more to do," Lois answered, +smiling, as she closed the brass-hinged doors of the corner closet.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said the other absently, "I do trust dear Gifford's +china-closet will be kept in proper order. Your shelves do credit to +Jean's housekeeping; indeed they do! And I hope he'll have a maid who +knows how to put the lavender among the linen; there's always a right and +a wrong way. I have written out directions for her, of course, but if +there was time I would write and ask Helen to see to it."</p> + +<p>"Why, Giff says he won't get off for a fortnight," Lois said, with +sudden surprise.</p> + +<p>"I thought so," responded Miss Deborah, shaking her head, so that the +little gray curls just above her ears trembled,—"I thought so, too; but +last night he said he was going at once. At least," stopping to correct +herself, "dear Ruth and I think it best for him to go. I have everything +ready for him, so no doubt he'll get off to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Lois was silent.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said Miss Deborah, lowering her voice, "Gifford does not +seem perfectly happy. Of course you wouldn't be apt to observe it; but +those things don't escape my eyes. He's been depressed for some time."</p> + +<p>"I hadn't noticed it," said Lois faintly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, certainly not," answered Miss Deborah; "it would be scarcely +proper that you should, considering the reason: but it's no surprise to +me. I always thought that when they grew old enough, dear Giff and Helen +would care for one another; and so I don't wonder that he has been +feeling some disappointment since he came home, though I had written him +she was engaged—Much too young she was, too, in my judgment."</p> + +<p>Lois's astonishment was so great that she dropped her mop, and Miss +Deborah looked at her reprovingly over her glasses. "Oh, yes, there's no +doubt Gifford felt it," she said, "but he'll get over it. Those things do +not last with men. You know I wouldn't speak of this to any one but you, +but he's just like a brother to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, exactly like a brother," Lois said hurriedly, "and I think I should +have known it if it had been—had been that way."</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Deborah, putting down the last glass, "I think not. I +only guessed it myself last night; it is all over now; those things never +last. And very likely he'll meet some nice girl in Lockhaven who will +make him happy; indeed, I shouldn't wonder if we heard he was taken with +somebody at once; hearts are often caught on the rebound! I don't know," +Miss Deborah added candidly, "how lasting an attachment formed on a +previous disappointment might be; and dear me! he does feel her marriage +very much."</p> + +<p>Here Sally came in to take away the pan and mop, and Lois looked about to +see if there was anything more to do. She was very anxious to bring Miss +Deborah's conversation to an end, and grateful that Jean should come and +ask her to take some silver, borrowed for yesterday's festivities, back +to Mrs. Dale.</p> + +<p>"It's these spoons," the old woman explained to Miss Deborah. "Mrs. Dale, +she lent us a dozen. I've counted 'em all myself; I wouldn't trust 'em to +that Sally. If there was a hair's difference, Mrs. Dale would know it +'fore she set eyes on them, let alone havin' one of our spoons 'stead of +hers."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah nodded her head. "Very likely, Jean," she said; "I've not a +doubt of it. I'm going now, and Miss Lois will walk along with me. Yes, +Mrs. Dale would see if anything was wrong, you can depend upon it."</p> + +<p>They set out together, Lois listening absently to Miss Deborah's chatter +about the wedding, and vaguely glad when, at the gate of her aunt's +house, she could leave her, with a pretty bow, which was half a courtesy.</p> + +<p>There was a depressing stateliness about Dale house, which was felt as +soon as the stone gateway, with its frowning sphinxes, was passed. The +long shutters on either side of the front door were always solemnly +bowed, for Mrs. Dale did not approve of faded carpets, and the roof of +the veranda, supported by great white pillars, darkened the second-story +windows. There was no tangle of vines about its blank walls of +cream-colored brick with white trimmings, nor even trees to soften the +stare with which it surveyed the dusty highway; and the formal precision +of the place was unrelieved by flowers, except for a stiff design in +foliage plants on the perfectly kept lawn.</p> + +<p>On the eastern side of the house, about the deep windows of Mr. Dale's +sanctum, ivy had been permitted to grow, and there were a few larch and +beech trees, and a hedge to hide the stables; but these were special +concessions to Mr. Dale.</p> + +<p>"I do dislike," said Mrs. Dale,—"I do dislike untidy gardens; flowers, +and vines, and trees, all crowded together, and weeds too, if the truth's +told. I never could understand how the Woodhouse girls could endure that +forlorn old place of theirs. But then, a woman never does make a really +good manager unless she's married."</p> + +<p>Lois found her aunt in the long parlor, playing Patience. She was sitting +in a straight-backed chair,—for Mrs. Dale scorned the weakness of a +rocking-chair,—before a spindle-legged table, covered with green baize +and with a cherry-wood rim inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory. On it +were thirteen groups of cards, arranged with geometrical exactness at +intervals of half an inch.</p> + +<p>"Well, Lois," she said, as her niece entered. "Oh, you have brought the +spoons back?" But she interrupted herself, her eyebrows knitted and her +lower lip thrust out, to lift a card slowly, and decide if she should +move it. Then she glanced at the girl over her glasses. "I'm just waiting +here because I must go into the kitchen soon, and look at my cake. That +Betty of mine must needs go and see her sick mother to-day, and I have to +look after things. But I cannot be idle. I declare, there is something +malicious in the way in which the relatives of servants fall ill!"</p> + +<p>She stopped here long enough to count the spoons, and then began her game +again. She was able, however, to talk while she played, and pointed out +various things which did not "go quite right" at the wedding.</p> + +<p>The parlor at Dale house was as exact and dreary as the garden. The whole +room suggested to Lois, watching her aunt play solitaire, and the motes +dancing in the narrow streaks of sunshine which fell between the bowed +shutters, and across the drab carpet to the white wainscoting on the +other side, the pictures in the Harry and Lucy books, or the parlor +where, on its high mantel shelf, Rosamond kept her purple jar.</p> + +<p>She wondered vaguely, as Mrs. Dale moved her cards carefully about, +whether her aunt had ever been "bothered" about anything. Helen's +marriage seemed only an incident to Mrs. Dale; the wedding and the +weather, the dresses and the presents, which had been a breathless +interest to Lois, were apparently of no more importance to the older +woman than the building up a suit.</p> + +<p>"Well," Mrs. Dale said, when she had exhausted the subject of the +wedding, "I'm sure I hope it will turn out well, but I really can't say. +Ever since I've seen this Mr. Ward I've somehow felt that it was an +experiment. In the first place, he's a man of weak will,—I'm sure of +that, because he seems perfectly ready to give way to Helen in +everything; and that isn't as it ought to be,—the man should rule! And +then, besides that, whoever heard of his people? Came from the South +somewhere, I believe, but he couldn't tell me the first name of his +great-grandfather. I doubt if he ever had any, between ourselves. Still, +I hope for the best. And I'm sure I trust," she added, with an uneasy +recollection of the cake in the oven, "she won't have trouble with +servants. I declare, the happiness of married life is in the hands of +your cook. If Betty had not gone off this morning, I should have come +over to the rectory to help you. There's so much to do after a wedding."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're very kind," said Lois, "but I think Jean and I can see to +things. Miss Deborah came to help me, but we were really quite in order."</p> + +<p>"Miss Deborah!" said Mrs. Dale. "Well, I'm glad if she could be of any +use; she really is so un-practical. But it's lucky you have Jean. Just +wait till you get a house of your own, young lady, and then you'll +understand what the troubles of housekeeping are."</p> + +<p>"I'm in no haste for a house of my own," said the girl, smiling.</p> + +<p>"That's because you're a foolish child," returned Mrs. Dale promptly. +"You'd be a great deal happier if you were married and settled. Though I +must say there is very little chance of it, unless you go away to make a +visit, as Helen did. There is only one young man in Ashurst; and now he's +going. But for that matter, Gifford Woodhouse and you are just like +brother and sister. Yes, Lois, I must say, I wish I could see you in a +home of your own. No woman is really happy unless she's married."</p> + +<p>"I think I'm the best judge of that," Lois answered. "No girl could be +happier than I am; to hear father call me his—Tyrant? I don't want +anything better than that."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Dale decidedly. "If you had a husband to call you +<i>his</i> Tyrant, it would be a thousand times better. I declare, I always +think, when we pray for 'all who are destitute and oppressed,' it means +the old maids. I'm sure the 'fatherless children and widows' are thought +of, and why not the poor, forlorn, unmarried women? Indeed, I think +Archibald is almost selfish to keep you at home as he does. My girls +would never have been settled if I had let them stay in Ashurst. I've +a great mind to tell your father he isn't doing his duty. You ought to +have a winter in town."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I hope you won't tell him anything of the sort!" cried Lois. "I +wouldn't leave Ashurst for the world, and I'm perfectly happy, I assure +you!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Dale calmly, "or think that no one loves +your father but yourself. He was my brother for thirty-four years before +he was your father. I only spoke for your good, and his too, for of +course he would be happier if you were."</p> + +<p>She stopped here to gather her cards up, and deal them out again in +little piles, and also to reprove Lois, who had made an impatient gesture +at her words.</p> + +<p>"These little restless ways you have are very unpleasant," she said; "my +girls never did such things. I don't know where you get your unlady-like +habits; not from your father, I'm sure. I suppose it's because you don't +go out at all; you never see anybody. There, that reminds me. I have had +a letter from Arabella Forsythe. I don't know whether you remember the +Forsythes; they used to visit here; let me see, fifteen years ago was the +last time, I think. Well, they are going to take the empty house near us +for the summer. She was a Robinson; not really Ashurst people, you know, +not born here, but quite respectable. Her father was a button +manufacturer, and he left her a great deal of money. She married a person +called Forsythe, who has since died. She has one boy, about your age, +who'll be immensely rich one of these days; he is not married. Heaven +knows when Ashurst will see an eligible young man again," she added; and +then, absently, "Eight on a nine, and there's a two-spot for my clubs!"</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I remember Mrs. Forsythe?" Lois said, wrinkling her pretty +forehead in a puzzled way. "Wasn't she a tall, thin lady, with a pleasant +face?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Mrs. Dale, nodding her sleek, head, "yes, <i>rather</i> +pleasant, but melancholy. And no wonder, talking about her aches and +pains all the time! But that's where the button manufacturer showed. She +was devoted to that boy of hers, and a very nice child he was, too." She +looked sharply at her niece as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I remember him," Lois said. "I saw Gifford shake him once; 'he was too +little to lick,' he said."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid Gifford is very rough and unmannerly sometimes," Mrs. Dale +said. "But then, those Woodhouse girls couldn't be expected to know how +to bring up a big boy."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Giff is unmannerly," cried Lois.</p> + +<p>"Well, not exactly," Mrs. Dale admitted; "but of course he isn't like Mr. +Forsythe. Gifford hasn't had the opportunities, or the money, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't think money is of much importance," said Lois. "I don't think +money has anything to do with manners."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't know anything about it!" cried Mrs. Dale. "There! you made +me make a mistake, and lose my game. Pray do not be silly, Lois, and talk +in that emphatic way; have a little more repose. I mean this young man +is—he is very different from anybody you have ever seen in Ashurst. But +there is no use trying to tell you anything; you always keep your own +opinion. You are exactly like a bag of feathers. You punch it and think +you've made an impression, and it comes out just where it went in."</p> + +<p>Lois laughed, and rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Tell your father what I said about a winter in town," Mrs. Dale called +after her; and then, gathering her cards up, and rapping them on the +table to get the edges straight, she said to herself, "But perhaps it +won't be necessary to have a winter in town!" And there was a grim sort +of smile on her face when, a moment later, Mr. Dale, in a hesitating way, +pushed the door open, and entered.</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard Lois's voice, my dear," he said, with a deprecating +expression.</p> + +<p>He wore his flowered cashmere dressing-gown, tied about the waist with a +heavy silk cord and tassel, and a soft red silk handkerchief was spread +over his white hair to protect his head from possible draughts in the +long hall. Just now one finger was between the pages of "A Sentimental +Journey."</p> + +<p>"She was here," said Mrs. Dale, still smiling. "I was telling her the +Forsythes were coming. It is an excellent thing; nothing could be +better."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Dale.</p> + +<p>"Mean?" cried his wife. "What should I be apt to mean? You have no sense +about such things, Henry."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said her husband meekly, "you want them to fall in love?"</p> + +<p>"Well, really," she answered, leaning back in her chair, and tapping her +foot impatiently, "I do not see how my husband can be so silly. One would +think I was a matchmaker, and no one detests anything of that sort as I +do,—no one! Fall in love, indeed! I think the expression is positively +indelicate, Henry. Of course, if Lois should be well married, I should be +grateful; and if it should be Mr. Forsythe, I should only feel I had done +my duty in urging Arabella to take a house in Ashurst."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you urged her?"</p> + +<p>"I wrote her Ashurst was very pleasant," Mrs. Dale acknowledged, "and it +was considered healthy. (I understand Arabella!) I knew her son was going +abroad later in the summer, but I thought, if he once got here"—</p> + +<p>"Ah," responded Mr. Dale.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>John and Helen had not gone at once to Lockhaven; they spent a fortnight +in wandering about through the mountains on horseback. The sweet June +weather, the crystal freshness of the air, and the melodious stillness of +the woods and fields wrapped those first heavenly days of entire +possession in a mist of joy. Afterwards, John Ward felt that it had +blinded the eyes of his soul, and drifted between him and his highest +duty; he had not been able to turn away from the gladness of living in +her presence to think of what had been, during all their engagement, an +anxiety and grief, and, he had promised himself, should be his earliest +thought when she became his wife:—the unsaved condition of her soul.</p> + +<p>When he had first seen her, before he knew he loved her, he had realized +with distress and terror how far she was from what he called truth; how +indifferent to what was the most important thing in the whole world to +him,—spiritual knowledge. He listened to what she said of her uncle's +little Episcopal church in Ashurst, and heard her laugh good-naturedly +about the rector's sermons, and then thought of the doctrines which were +preached from his own pulpit in Lockhaven.</p> + +<p>Helen had never listened to sermons full of the hopelessness of +predestination; she frankly said she did not believe that Adam was her +federal head and representative, and that she, therefore, was born in +sin. "I'm a sinner," she said, smiling; "we're all miserable sinners, you +know, Mr. Ward, and perhaps we all sin in original ways; but I don't +believe in original sin."</p> + +<p>When he spoke of eternal punishment, she looked at him with grave +surprise in her calm brown eyes. "How can you think such a thing?" she +asked. "It seems to me a libel upon the goodness of God."</p> + +<p>"But justice, Miss Jeffrey," he said anxiously; "surely we must +acknowledge the righteousness and justice of God's judgments."</p> + +<p>"If you mean that God would send a soul to hell forever, if you call that +his judgment, it seems to me unrighteous and unjust. Truly, I can think +of no greater heresy, Mr. Ward, than to deny the love of God; and is not +that what you do when you say he is more cruel than even men could be?"</p> + +<p>"But the Bible says"—he began, when she interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"It does not seem worth while to say, 'the Bible says,'" she said, +smiling a little as she looked into his troubled face. "The Bible was the +history, and poetry, and politics of the Jews, as well as their code of +ethics and their liturgy; so that, unless we are prepared to believe in +its verbal inspiration, I don't see how we can say, as an argument, 'the +Bible says.'"</p> + +<p>"And you do not believe in its verbal inspiration?" he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"No," Helen answered, "I could not."</p> + +<p>It was not for John Ward to ask how she had been taught, or to criticise +another minister's influence, but as he walked home, with anxious, +downcast eyes, he wondered what Dr. Howe's belief could be, and how it +had been possible for her soul to have been so neglected. This woman, +whose gracious, beautiful nature stirred him with profound admiration, +was in the darkness of unbelief; she had never been taught the truth.</p> + +<p>As he said this to himself, John Ward knew, with sudden, passionate +tenderness, that he loved her. Yet it was months before he came and told +her. What right had he to love her? he said to himself, when he knelt and +prayed for her soul's salvation: she was an unbeliever; she had never +come to Christ, or she would have known the truth. His duty to his people +confronted him with its uncompromising claim that the woman whom he +should bring to help him in his labors among them should be a Christian, +and he struggled to tear this love out of his heart.</p> + +<p>John Ward's was an intellect which could not hold a belief subject to +the mutations of time or circumstances. Once acknowledged by his soul, +its growth was ended; it hardened into a creed, in which he rested in +complete satisfaction. It was not that he did not desire more light; it +was simply that he could not conceive that there might be more light. And +granting his premise that the Bible was directly inspired by God, he was +not illogical in holding with a pathetic and patient faith to the +doctrines of the Presbyterian Church.</p> + +<p>Helen's belief was as different as was her mode of thought. It was +perhaps a development of her own nature, rather than the result of her +uncle's teaching, though she had been guided by him spiritually ever +since he had taken her to his own home, on the death of her parents, when +she was a little child. "Be a good girl, my dear," Dr. Howe would say. So +she learned her catechism, and was confirmed just before she went to +boarding-school, as was the custom with Ashurst young women, and sung in +the choir, while Mr. Denner drew wonderful chords from the organ, and she +was a very well-bred and modest young woman, taking her belief for +granted, and giving no more thought to the problems of theology than +girls usually do.</p> + +<p>But this was before she met John Ward. After those first anxious +questions of his, Helen began to understand how slight was her hold upon +religion. But she did not talk about her frame of mind, nor dignify the +questions which began to come by calling them doubts; how could they be +doubts, when she had never known what she had believed? So, by degrees, +she built up a belief for herself.</p> + +<p>Love of good was really love of God, in her mind. Heaven meant +righteousness, and hell an absence from what was best and truest; but +Helen did not feel that a soul must wait for death before it was +overtaken by hell. It was very simple and very short, this creed of +hers; yet it was the doorway through which grief and patience were to +come,—the sorrow of the world, the mystery of sin, and the hope of that +far-off divine event.</p> + +<p>There was no detail of religious thought with Helen Jeffrey; ideas +presented themselves to her mind with a comprehensiveness and simplicity +which would have been impossible to Mr. Ward. But at this time he knew +nothing of the mental processes that were leading her out of the calm, +unreasoning content of childhood into a mist of doubt, which, as she +looked into the future, seemed to darken into night. He was struggling +with his conscience, and asking himself if he had any right to seek her +love.</p> + +<p>"Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," he said to himself. +To his mind, Helen's lack of belief in certain doctrines—for it had +hardly crystallized into unbelief—was sin; and sin was punishable by +eternal death. Here was his escape from conscience. Should this sweet +soul, that he loved more than his own, be lost? No; surely, it was a +sacred right and duty to win her heart and marry her, that he might take +her away from the atmosphere of religious indifference in which she +lived, and guide her to light and life.</p> + +<p>Love won the day. "I will save her soul!" he said to himself; and with +this purpose always before him to hide a shadow, which whispered,—so he +thought,—"This is a sin," he asked her to be his wife.</p> + +<p>He did not have to plead long. "I think I have always loved you," Helen +said, looking up into his eyes; and John was so happy that every thought +of anxiety for her soul was swallowed up in gratitude to God for her +love.</p> + +<p>It was one midsummer afternoon that he reached Ashurst; he went at once +to the rectory, though with no thought of asking Dr. Howe's permission to +address his niece. It seemed to John as though there were only their two +souls in the great sunny world that day, and his love-making was as +simple and candid as his life.</p> + +<p>"I've come to tell you I love you," he said, with no preface, except to +take her hands in his.</p> + +<p>He did not see her often during their engagement, nor did he write her of +his fears and hopes for her; he would wait until she was quite away from +Ashurst carelessness, he thought; and beside, his letters were so full of +love, there was no room for theology. But he justified silence by saying +when they were in their own home he would show her the beauty of revealed +religion; she should understand the majesty of the truth; and their +little house, which was to be sacred as the shrine of human love, should +become the very gate of heaven.</p> + +<p>It was a very little house, this parsonage. Its sharp pitch roof was +pulled well down over its eyes, which were four square, shining windows, +divided into twenty-four small panes of glass, so full of bubbles and +dimples that they made the passer-by seem sadly distorted, and the spire +of the church opposite have a strange bend in it.</p> + +<p>John Ward's study had not a great many books. He could not afford them, +for one reason; but, with a row of Edwards, and some of Dr. Samuel +Hopkins' sermons, and pamphlets by Dr. Emmons, he could spare all but one +or two volumes of Hodge and Shedd, who, after all, but reiterate, in a +form suited to a weaker age, the teachings of Dr. Jonathan Edwards.</p> + +<p>The dim Turkey carpet was worn down to the nap in a little path in front +of his bookshelves, where he used to stand absorbed in reading, or where +he walked back and forth, thinking out his dark and threatening sermons. +For before his marriage John preached the law rather than the gospel.</p> + +<p>"So I am going to hear you preach on Sunday?" Helen said, the Saturday +morning after their return. "It's odd that I've never heard you, and we +have known each other more than a year."</p> + +<p>He was at his desk, and she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. He +put down his pen, and turned to look up into her face. "Perhaps you will +not like my sermons;" there was a little wistfulness in his dark eyes as +he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I shall," she said, with smiling certainty. "Sermons are pretty +much alike, don't you think? I know some of uncle Archie's almost by +heart. Really, there is only one thing to say, and you have to keep +saying it over and over."</p> + +<p>"We cannot say it too often," John answered. "The choice between eternal +life and eternal death should sound in the ears of unconverted men every +day of their lives."</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head. "I didn't mean that, John. I was thinking of the +beauty of holiness." And then she added, with a smile, "I hope you don't +preach any awful doctrines?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes the truth is terrible, dear," he said gently.</p> + +<p>But when she had left him to write his sermon, he sat a long while +thinking. Surely she was not ready yet to hear such words as he had meant +to speak. He would put this sermon away for some future Sunday, when the +truth would be less of a shock to her. "She must come to the knowledge of +God slowly," he thought. "It must not burst upon her; it might only drive +her further from the light to hear of justice as well as mercy. She is +not able to bear it yet."</p> + +<p>So he took some fresh paper, and wrote, instead of his lurid text from +Hebrews, "Ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty."</p> + +<p>But when Helen went out of the study, she thought very little of sermons +or doctrines. John filled her mind, and she had no room for wondering +about his beliefs; he could believe anything he chose; he was hers,—that +was enough.</p> + +<p>She went into her small kitchen, the smile still lingering upon her lips, +and through its open doorway saw her little maid, Alfaretta, out in the +sunny garden at the back of the house. She had an armful of fresh white +tea-towels, which had been put out to dry on the row of gooseberry bushes +at the end of the garden, and was coming up the path, singing cheerily, +with all the force of her strong young lungs. Helen caught the words as +she drew near:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My thoughts on awful subjects roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Damnation and the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What horrors seize the guilty soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Upon the dying bed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where endless crowds of sinners lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And darkness makes their chains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tortured with keen despair they cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet wait for fiercer pains!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Oh, Alfaretta!" her mistress cried, in indignant astonishment. "How can +you say such terrible words!" Alfaretta stood still, in open-mouthed +amazement, an injured look in her good-natured blue eyes. The incongruity +of this rosy-faced, happy girl, standing in the sunshine, with all the +scents and sounds of a July day about her, and singing in her cheerful +voice these hopeless words, almost made Helen smile; but she added +gravely, "I hope you will not sing that again. I do not like it."</p> + +<p>"But ma'am—but Mrs. Ward," said the girl, plainly hurt at the reproof, +"I was practicing. I belong to the choir."</p> + +<p>Alfaretta had dropped the tea-towels, hot with sunshine and smelling of +clover-blossoms, upon her well-scoured dresser, and then turned and +looked at her mistress reproachfully. "I don't know what I am going to do +if I can't practice," she said.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you sing that in church?" cried Helen. "Where do +you go?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I go to your church," said the still injured Alfaretta,—"to Mr. +Ward's. We're to have that hymn on Sabbath"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, there must be some mistake," remonstrated Helen. "I'm sure Mr. Ward +did not notice that verse."</p> + +<p>"But it's all like that; it says"—</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me any more," Helen said. "I've heard enough. I had no idea +such awful words were written." Then she stopped abruptly, feeling her +position as the preacher's wife in a way of which she had never thought.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta's father was an elder in John's church, which gave her a +certain ease in speaking to her mistress that did not mean the slightest +disrespect.</p> + +<p>"Is it the words of it you don't like?" said Alfaretta, rather relieved, +since her singing had not been criticised.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Helen answered, "it is the words. Don't you see how dreadful they +are?"</p> + +<p>Alfaretta stood with her plump red hands on her hips, and regarded Mrs. +Ward with interest. "I hadn't ever thought of 'em," she said. "Yes, +ma'am. I suppose they are awful bad," and swinging back and forth on her +heels, her eyes fixed meditatively on the ceiling, she said,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Then swift and dreadful she descends<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down to the fiery coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst abominable fiends'—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Yes, that does sound dreadful. Worst of it is, you get used to 'em, and +don't notice 'em much. Why, I've sung that hymn dozens of times in +church, and never thought of the meanin'. And there's Tom Davis: he +drinks most of the time, but he has sung once or twice in the choir +(though he ain't been ever converted yet, and he is really terrible +wicked; don't do nothin' but swear and drink). But I don't suppose he +noticed the words of this hymn,—though I know he sung it,—for he keeps +right on in his sin; and he couldn't, you know, Mrs. Ward, if that hymn +was true to him."</p> + +<p>Helen left Alfaretta to reflect upon the hymn, and went back to the +study; but the door was shut, and she heard the scratching of her +husband's pen. She turned away, for she had lived in a minister's +household, and had been brought up to know that nothing must disturb +a man who was writing a sermon. But John had hurriedly opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Did you want to speak to me, dearest?" he said, standing at the foot of +the stairs, his pen still between his fingers. "I heard your step."</p> + +<p>"But I must not interrupt you," she answered, smiling at him over the +balusters.</p> + +<p>"You never could interrupt me. Come into the study and tell me what it +is."</p> + +<p>"Only to ask you about a hymn which Alfaretta says is to be sung on +Sunday," Helen said. "Of course there is some mistake about it, but +Alfaretta says the choir has been practicing it, and I know you would not +want it."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember what it was, dear?"</p> + +<p>"I can't quote it," Helen answered, "but it began something about +'damnation and the dead.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know;" and then he added, slowly, "Why don't you like it, +Helen?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him in astonishment. "Why, it's absurd; it's horrible."</p> + +<p>John was silent for a few moments, and then he sighed: "We will not sing +it, dear."</p> + +<p>"But, John," she cried, "how could such a hymn ever have been printed? Of +course I know people used to think such things, but I had no idea anybody +thought of hell in that literal way to-day, or that hell itself was a +real belief to very many people; however, I suppose, if such hymns are +printed, the doctrine is still taught?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," John said, "it is as real to-day as God himself,—as it always has +been and must be; and it is believed by Christians as earnestly as ever. +We cannot help it, Helen."</p> + +<p>Helen looked at him thoughtfully. "It is very terrible; but oh, John, +what sublime faith, to be able to believe God capable of such awful +cruelty, and yet to love and trust Him!"</p> + +<p>John's face grew suddenly bright. "'Though He slay me, yet will I trust +Him,'" he said, with the simplicity of assurance. But when he went back +again to his sermon, he was convinced that he had been wise to put off +for a little while the instruction in doctrine of which his wife's soul +stood in such sore need.</p> + +<p>"I was right," he thought; "the Light must come gradually, the blaze of +truth at once would blind her to the perfection of justice. She would not +be able to understand there was mercy, too."</p> + +<p>So the choir was told the hymn would be "Welcome, sweet day of rest," +which, after all, was much better suited to the sermon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>Why the Misses Woodhouse, and Mr. Dale, and Mr. Denner should go to the +rectory for their Saturday night games of whist was never very clear to +any of them. The rector did not understand the game, he said, and it was +perhaps to learn that he watched every play so closely. Lois, of course, +had no part in it, for Mrs. Dale was always ready to take a hand, if one +of the usual four failed. Mrs. Dale was too impatient to play whist from +choice, but she enjoyed the consciousness of doing a favor.</p> + +<p>Lois's only occupation was to be useful. Ashurst was strangely behind the +times in thinking that it was a privilege, as it ought to be a pleasure, +for young people to wait upon their elders and betters.</p> + +<p>True, Mr. Denner, with old-fashioned politeness, always offered his +services when Lois went for the wine and cake at close of the rubber; but +the little gentleman would have been conscious of distinct surprise had +she accepted them, for Lois, in his eyes, was still a little girl. This +was perhaps because Mr. Denner, at sixty-two, did not realize that he had +ceased to be, as he would have expressed it, "a gentleman in middle +life." He had no landmarks of great emotions to show him how far the +sleepy years had carried him from his youth; and life in Ashurst was very +placid. There were no cases to try; property rarely went out of families +which had held it when Mr. Denner's father wrote their wills and drew up +their deeds in the same brick office which his son occupied now, and it +was a point of decency and honor that wills should not be disputed.</p> + +<p>Yet Mr. Denner felt that his life was full of occupation. He had his +practicing in the dim organ-loft of St. Michael's and All Angels; and +every day when dinner was over, his little nephew slipped from his chair, +and stood with his hands behind him to recite his <i>rego regere</i>; then +there were always his flies and rods to keep in order against the season +when he and the rector started on long fishing tramps; and in the +evenings, when Willie had gone to bed, and his cook was reading "The +Death Beds of Eminent Saints" by the kitchen fire, Mr. Denner worked out +chess problems by himself in his library, or read Cavendish and thought +of next Saturday; and besides all this, he went once a week to Mercer, +and sat waiting for clients in a dark back office, while he studied his +weekly paper.</p> + +<p>But though there seemed plenty to do, sometimes Mr. Denner would sigh, +and say to himself that it was somewhat lonely, and Mary was certainly +severe. He supposed that was because she had no mistress to keep an eye +on her.</p> + +<p>These weekly games of whist were a great pleasure to him. The library at +the rectory was cheerful, and there was a feeling of importance in +playing a game at which the rector and Mrs. Dale only looked on. It was +understood that the gentlemen might smoke, though the formality of asking +permission of the ladies, and being urged by them, always took place. Mr. +Denner's weekly remark to the Misses Woodhouse in this connection, as he +stood ready to strike a match on the hearth of the big fireplace, was +well known. "When ladies," he would say, bowing to each sister in turn, +with his little heels close together and his toes turned well out,—"when +ladies are so charitable to our vices, we will not reform, lest we lose +the pleasure of being forgiven." Mr. Denner smoked a cigar, but Mr. Dale +always drew from his pocket a quaint silver pipe, very long and slender, +and with an odd suggestion of its owner about it; for he was tall and +frail, and his thin white hair, combed back from his mild face, had a +silvery gleam in the lamplight. Often the pipe would be between the pages +of a book, from the leaves of which Lois would have to shake the loose +ashes before putting it back in his pocket.</p> + +<p>The whist party sat in high-backed chairs about a square mahogany table, +whose shining top betokened much muscle on the part of Sally. At each +corner was a candle in a tall silver candlestick, because Miss Deborah +objected to a shadow on the board, which would have been cast by a +hanging lamp. The August night was hot, and doors and windows were open +for any breath of air that might be stirring in the dark garden. Max had +retreated to the empty fireplace, finding the bricks cooler than the +carpeted floor. All was very still, save when the emphatic sweep of a +trump card made the candle flames flicker. But the deals were a +diversion. Then the rector, who had tiptoed about, to look over the +shoulder of each player, might say, "You didn't answer Miss Ruth's call, +Denner;" or, "Bless my soul, Dale, what made you play a ten-spot on that +second hand round? You ought not to send a boy to take a trick, sir!"</p> + +<p>It was in one of these pauses that Mrs. Dale, drawing a shining +knitting-needle out of her work, said, "I suppose you got my message this +morning, brother, that Arabella Forsythe didn't feel well enough to come +to-night? I told her she should have Henry's place, but she said she +wasn't equal to the excitement." Mrs. Dale gave a careful laugh; she did +not wish to make Mrs. Forsythe absurd in the eyes of one person present.</p> + +<p>"You offered her my place, my dear?" Mr. Dale asked, turning his blue +eyes upon her. "I didn't know that, but it was quite right."</p> + +<p>"Of course it was," replied Mrs. Dale decidedly, while the rector said, +"Yes, young Forsythe said you sent him to say so."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale glanced at Lois, sitting in one of the deep window-seats, +reading, with the lamplight shining on her pretty face.</p> + +<p>"I asked him to come," continued the rector, "but he said he must not +leave his mother; she was not feeling well."</p> + +<p>"Quite right, very proper," murmured the rest of the party; but Mrs. Dale +added, "As there's no conversation, I'm afraid it would have been very +stupid; I guess he knew that. And I certainly should not have allowed +Henry to give up his seat to him." As she said this, she looked at Mr. +Denner, who felt, under that clear, relentless eye, his would have been +the seat vacated, if Dick Forsythe had come. Mr. Denner sighed; he had no +one to protect him, as Dale had.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Miss Deborah, who was sorting her cards, and putting all +the trumps at the right side, "what decided Mr. Forsythe to spend the +summer here? I understood that his mother took the house in Ashurst just +because he was going to be abroad."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale nodded her head until her glasses glistened, and looked at +Lois, but the girl's eyes were fastened upon her book.</p> + +<p>"I think," remarked Mr. Dale, hesitating, and then glancing at his wife, +"he is rather a changeable young man. He has one view in the morning, and +another in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Don't be so foolish, Henry," said his wife sharply. "I hope there's +nothing wrong in the young man finding his own country more attractive +than Europe? To change his mind in that way is very sensible." But this +was in a hushed voice, for Mr. Denner had led, and the room was silent +again.</p> + +<p>At the next deal, Miss Deborah looked sympathetically at Mr. Dale. "I +think he is changeable," she said; "his own mother told me that she was +constantly afraid he'd marry some unsuitable young woman, and the only +safety was that he would see a new one before it became too serious. She +said it really told upon her health. Dear me, I should think it might."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale tossed her head, and her knitting-needles clicked viciously; +then she told Lois that this was the rubber, and she had better see to +the tray. The young girl must have heard every word they said, though +she had not lifted her bright eyes from her book, but she did not seem +disturbed by the charge of fickleness on the part of Mr. Forsythe. He had +not confided to her his reasons for not going abroad; all she knew was +that the summer was the merriest one she had ever spent. "I feel so +young," little Lois said; and indeed she had caught a certain careless +gayety from her almost daily companion, which did not belong to Ashurst. +But she gave no thought to his reason for staying, though her father and +Mrs. Dale did, and with great satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"What do you hear from Helen, brother?" Mrs. Dale asked, as Lois rose to +do her bidding. Mrs. Dale was determined to leave the subject of Dick +Forsythe, "for Henry has so little sense," she thought, "there is no +knowing what he'll say next, or Deborah Woodhouse either. But then, one +couldn't expect anything else of her."</p> + +<p>"Ah,—she's all right," said Dr. Howe, frowning at Miss Ruth's hand, and +then glancing at Mr. Dale's, and thrusting out his lower lip, while his +bushy eyebrows gathered in a frown.</p> + +<p>"What is Ward?" asked Mr. Dale, sorting his cards. "Old or new school?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know the difference," said Dr. Howe; "he's a blue +Presbyterian, though, through and through. He didn't have much to say +for himself, but what he did say made me believe he was consistent; he +doesn't stop short where his creed ceases to be agreeable, and you know +that is unusual."</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked the older man, "he might be consistent and belong to +either school. I am told the difference consists merely in the fact that +the old school have cold roast beef on the Sabbath, and the new school +have hot roast beef on Sunday. But doubtless both unite on hell for other +sects."</p> + +<p>The rector's quick laugh was silenced by the game, but at the next pause +he hastened to tell them what John Ward had said of slavery. "Fancy such +a speech!" he cried, his face growing red at the remembrance. "Under the +circumstances, I couldn't tell him what I thought of him; but I had my +opinion. I wonder," he went on, rattling a bunch of keys in his pocket, +"what would be the attitude of a mind like his in politics? Conservative +to the most ridiculous degree, I imagine. Of course, to a certain extent, +it is proper to be conservative. I am conservative myself; I don't like +to see the younger generation rushing into things because they are new, +like Gifford,—calling himself a Democrat. I beg your pardon, Miss +Deborah, for finding fault with the boy."</p> + +<p>"Ah, doctor, ladies don't understand politics," answered Miss Deborah +politely.</p> + +<p>"But really," said the rector, "for a boy whose father died for the +Union, it's absurd, you know, perfectly absurd. But Ward! one can't +imagine that he would ever change in anything, and that sort of +conservatism can be carried too far."</p> + +<p>"Well, now," said Mr. Denner, "I should say, I should be inclined to +think, it would be just the opposite, quite—quite the contrary. From +what you say, doctor, it seems to me more likely that he might be an +anarchist, as it were. Yes, not at all a conservative."</p> + +<p>"How so?" asked the rector. "A man who would say such a thing as that the +Bible, his interpretation of it, was to decide all questions of duty (a +pretty dangerous thing that, for a man must have inclinations of his own, +which would be sure to color his interpretation! What?), and who would +bring all his actions down to its literal teachings without regard to +more modern needs? No, Denner; you are wrong there."</p> + +<p>"Not altogether," Mr. Dale demurred in his gentle voice. "Ward would +believe in a party only so long as it agreed with his conscience, I +should suppose, and his conscience might make him—anything. And +certainly the Bible test would not leave him content with democracy, +doctor. Communism is literal Christianity. I can fancy he would leave any +party, if he thought its teachings were not supported by the Bible. But I +scarcely know him; my opinion is very superficial."</p> + +<p>"Why do you express it, then?" said Mrs. Dale. "Don't you see Deborah has +led? You are keeping the whole table waiting!"</p> + +<p>They began to play. Mr. Denner, who was facing the open door, could see +the square hall, and the white stair-rail across the first landing, where +with the moon and stars about its face, the clock stood; it was just five +minutes to nine. This made the lawyer nervous; he played a low trump, in +spite of the rector's mutter of, "Look out, Denner!" and thus lost the +trick, which meant the rubber, so he threw down his cards in despair. He +had scarcely finished explaining that he meant to play the king, but +threw the knave by mistake, when Lois entered, followed by Sally with the +big tray, which always carried exactly the same things: a little fat +decanter, with a silver collar jingling about its neck, marked, Sherry, +'39; a plate of ratifia cakes, and another of plum-cake for the rector's +especial delectation; and a silver wire basket full of home-made candy +for Mr. Dale, who had two weaknesses, candy and novels. Of late Mrs. Dale +had ceased to inveigh against these tastes, feeling that it was hopeless +to look for reformation in a man nearly seventy years old. "It is bad +manners," she said, "to do foolish things if they make you conspicuous. +But then! it is easier to change a man's creed than his manners."</p> + +<p>The candles stood in a gleaming row on the mantelpiece, where Lois had +placed them to make room for the tray on the whist-table; for it was +useless to think of putting anything on the rector's writing-table, with +its litter of church papers, and sporting journals, and numbers of Bell's +"Life," besides unanswered letters. The ladies, still sitting in the +high-backed chairs, spread white doilies over their laps, and then took +their small glasses of wine and delicate little cakes, but the gentlemen +ate and drank standing, and they all discussed the last game very +earnestly. Only Lois, waiting by the tray, ready to hand the cake, was +silent. It was a peculiarity of Ashurst that even after childhood had +passed young people were still expected to be seen, and not heard; so her +silence would only have been thought decorous, had any one noticed it. +By and by, when she saw she was not needed, she slipped out to the front +porch, and sat down on the steps. Max followed her, and thrust his cold +nose under her hand.</p> + +<p>She propped her chin upon her little fist, and began to think of what had +been said of Ashurst's visitors. With a thrill of subtile satisfaction, +she remembered how pleased Mrs. Forsythe always was to see her. "She +won't have any anxiety this summer which will injure her health!" And +then she tried to disguise her thought by saying to herself that there +were no girls in Ashurst who were not "suitable."</p> + +<p>"Good-evening," some one said gayly. It was Mr. Forsythe, who had come so +quietly along the path, dark with its arching laburnums and syringas, she +had not heard him.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, with a little start of surprise, "I did not know we were +to see you to-night. Is your mother"—</p> + +<p>"I'm like the man in the Bible," he interrupted, laughing. "He said he +wouldn't, then he did!" He had followed her to the library, and stood, +smiling, with a hand on each side of the doorway. "I started for a walk, +doctor, and somehow I found myself here. No cake, thank you,—yes, I +guess I'll have some sherry. Oh, the whist is over. Who is to be +congratulated, Mrs. Dale? For my part, I never could understand the +fascination of the game. Euchre is heavy enough for me. May I have some +of Mr. Dale's candy, Miss Lois?"</p> + +<p>Except Mrs. Dale, the little party of older people seemed stunned by the +quick way in which he talked. His airy manner and flimsy wit impressed +them with a sense of his knowledge of life. He represented the world +to them, the World with a capital W, and they were all more or less +conscious of a certain awe in his presence. His utter disregard of the +little observances and forms which were expected from Ashurst young +people gave them a series of shocks, that were rather pleasant than +otherwise.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale looked confused, and handed him the candy with such nervous +haste, some of it fell to the floor, which gave the young man a chance +for his frequent light laugh. Miss Deborah began in an agitated way to +pick up the crumbs of cake from her lap, and ask her sister if she did +not think Sarah had come for them. Mr. Denner stopped talking about a new +sort of fly for trout, and said he thought—yes, he really thought, he +had better be going, but he waited to listen with open-mouthed admiration +to the ease with which the young fellow talked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Forsythe's conversation was directed to Mrs. Dale, but it was for +Lois; nor did he seem aware of the silence which fell on the rest of +the company. Mrs. Dale enjoyed it. She answered by nods, and small +chuckles of approval, and frequent glances about at the others, as much +as to say, "Do you hear that? Isn't that bright?" and a certain air of +proprietorship, which meant that she thoroughly approved of Mr. Forsythe, +and regarded him as her own discovery.</p> + +<p>"This is the time we miss Gifford," said Miss Deborah, who had gone out +into the hall to put on her overshoes. "He was such a useful child." Lois +came to help her, for Mr. Denner was far too timid to offer assistance, +and the rector too stout, and Mr. Dale too absent-minded. As for Mr. +Forsythe, he did not notice how Miss Deborah was occupied, until Lois had +joined her; and then his offer was not accepted, for Miss Deborah felt +shy about putting out her foot in its black kid slipper, tied about the +ankle with a black ribbon, in the presence of this young man, who was, +she was sure, very genteel.</p> + +<p>Mr. Forsythe's call was necessarily a short one, for, charming as he was, +Ashurst custom would not have permitted him to stay when the party had +broken up. However, he meant to walk along with the Dales, and hear her +aunt talk about Lois.</p> + +<p>The Misses Woodhouse's maid was waiting for them, her lantern swinging in +her hand. Mr. Denner had secretly hoped for a chance of "seeing them +home," but dared not offer his unnecessary services in Sarah's presence.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe and his daughter went as far as the gate with their guests, and +then stood watching them down the lane, until a turn in the road hid the +glimmer of the lantern and the dark figures beside it.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" said the rector, as they turned to go back to the house. +"This gayety has made me almost forget my sermon. I must not put it off +so, next week."</p> + +<p>This remark of Dr. Howe's was almost as regular as the whist party +itself.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth trotted behind Sarah, whose determined stride +kept them a little ahead of the others; Dick Forsythe had joined Mrs. +Dale at once, so Mr. Dale and Mr. Denner walked together. They were only +far enough behind to have the zest one feels in talking about his +neighbors when there is danger of being overheard.</p> + +<p>"He is a very fine conversationalist," said Mr. Denner, nodding his head +in Dick's direction; "he talks very well."</p> + +<p>"He talks a great deal," observed Mr. Dale.</p> + +<p>"He seems to feel," Mr. Denner continued, "no—ah, if I can so express +it—timidity."</p> + +<p>"None," responded Mr. Dale.</p> + +<p>"And I judge he has seen a great deal of the world," said Mr. Denner; +"yet he appears to be satisfied with Ashurst, and I have sometimes +thought, Henry, that Ashurst is not, as it were, gay." As he said this, +a certain jauntiness came into his step, as though he did not include +himself among those who were not "gay." "Yet he seems to be content. +I've known him come down to the church when Lois was singing, and sit a +whole hour, apparently meditating. He is no doubt a very thoughtful young +man."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" answered Mr. Dale, "he comes to hear Lois sing."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner gave a little start. "Oh," he said—"ah—I had not thought of +that." But when he left Mr. Dale, and slipped into the shadows of the +Lombardy poplars on either side of his white gate-posts, Mr. Denner +thought much of it,—more with a sort of envy of Mr. Forsythe's future +than of Lois. "He will marry, some time (perhaps little Lois), and then +he will have a comfortable home."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner sat down on the steps outside of his big white front door, +which had a brass knocker and knob that Mary had polished until the paint +had worn away around them. Mr. Denner's house was of rough brick, laid +with great waste of mortar, so that it looked as though covered with many +small white seams. Some ivy grew about the western windows of the +library, but on the north and east sides it had stretched across the +closed white shutters, for these rooms had scarcely been entered since +little Willie Denner's mother died, five years ago. She had kept house +for her brother-in-law, and had brought some brightness into his life; +but since her death, his one servant had had matters in her own hands, +and the house grew more lonely and cheerless each year. Mr. Denner's +office was in his garden, and was of brick, like his house, but nearer +the road, and without the softening touch of ivy; it was damp and +mildewed, and one felt instinctively that the ancient law books must have +a film of mould on their battered covers.</p> + +<p>The lawyer's little face had a pinched, wistful look; the curls of his +brown wig were hidden by a tall beaver hat, with the old bell crown and +straight brim; it was rarely smooth, except on Sundays, when Mary brushed +it before he went to church. He took it off now, and passed his hand +thoughtfully over his high, mild forehead, and sighed; then he looked +through one of the narrow windows on either side of the front door, where +the leaded glass was cut into crescents and circles, and fastened with +small brass rosettes; he could see the lamp Mary had left for him, +burning dimly on the hall table, under a dark portrait of some Denner, +long since dead. But he still sat upon what he called his "doorstones;" +the August starlight, and the Lombardy poplars stirring in the soft wind, +and the cricket chirping in the grass, offered more companionship, he +thought, than he would find in his dark, silent library.</p> + +<p>The little gentleman's mind wandered off to the different homes he knew; +they were so pleasant and cheerful. There was always something bright +about the rectory, and how small and cosy Henry Dale's study was. And how +pretty the Woodhouse girls' parlor looked! Mr. Denner was as slow to +recognize the fact that Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were no longer young +as they were themselves. Just now he thought only of the home-life in +their old house, and the comfort, and the peace. What quiet, pleasant +voices the sisters had, and how well Miss Deborah managed, and how +delightfully Miss Ruth painted! How different his own life would have +been if Gertrude Drayton—Ah, well! The little gentleman sighed again, +and then, drawing his big key from his pocket, let himself into the +silent hall, and crept quietly up-stairs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>It did not take Gifford Woodhouse very long to get settled in Lockhaven. +His office and bedroom constituted his household, and Miss Deborah never +knew that her bags of lavender were not even taken out of the trunk, and +that the hard-featured Irishwoman who "came in by the day" never saw the +paper of directions, written, that she might be able to read it easily, +in Miss Deborah's small, neat hand.</p> + +<p>But Miss Deborah was right in thinking Helen would look after his +comfort, and Gifford soon felt that his real "home" in Lockhaven was at +the parsonage, though he had not time to drop in half as often as the +master and mistress urged him to do.</p> + +<p>He did not tell Helen of that talk with Lois, which had brought a soberer +look to his face than she had ever seen there. But she had noticed it, +and wondered at it, and she felt his reserve, too, in speaking of her +cousin; she even asked herself if he could have cared for Lois? But the +thought was too absurd. "Probably they've quarreled again," she said +regretfully, she never had been able to understand her cousin's +impatience with him.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Gifford thought that she had an intuitive knowledge of the ache +there was in his heart when she talked of Lois, for he was comforted in +a vague way by the sympathetic look which was always on Helen's face when +she spoke to any one who seemed troubled. So he was glad to come to the +parsonage as often as he could, and hear the Ashurst news, and have a cup +of tea with the preacher and his wife.</p> + +<p>John and Helen often walked home with him, though his rooms were quite at +the other end of the town, near the river and the mills; and one night, +as they stood on the shaking bridge, and looked down at the brown water +rushing and plunging against the rotten wooden piers, Helen began to ask +him about Mr. Forsythe.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about him," she said. "You have seen him since he left college. +I only just remember him in Ashurst, though I recall Mrs. Forsythe +perfectly: a tall, sick-looking lady, with an amiably melancholy face, +and three puffs of hair on each side of it."</p> + +<p>"Except that the puffs are white now, she is just the same," Gifford +answered. "As for her son, I don't know anything about him. I believe we +were not very good friends when we were boys, but now—well, he has the +manners of a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't that go without saying?" said Helen, laughing. "From the letters +I've had, I fancy he is a good deal at the rectory."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gifford admitted. "But he is one of those people who make you feel +that though they may have good manners, their grandfathers did not, don't +you know?"</p> + +<p>"But what difference does that make," John asked, "if he is a good man?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, no difference," Gifford replied with an impatient laugh.</p> + +<p>"But what is the attraction in Ashurst, Giff?" Helen said. "How can he +stay there all summer? I should not think he could leave his business."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is rich."</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't like him!" said Helen, surprised at his tone.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about the fellow," the young man answered. "I +haven't seen enough of him to have an opinion one way or the other. +Judging from aunt Ruth's letters, though, I should say Lois liked him, so +I don't think he will be anxious for my approval, or anybody else's."</p> + +<p>Helen looked at him with sudden questioning in her eyes, but they had +reached his house, and John began to speak to him of his plans and of +Lockhaven.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you will have only too much to do," he said. "There +is a great deal of quarreling among the mill-owners, and constant +disagreements between the hands."</p> + +<p>"Well," Gifford answered, smiling, and straightening his broad shoulders, +"if there is work to do, I am glad I am here to do it. But I'm not +hopeless for the life it indicates, when you say there's much to be done. +The struggle for personal rights and advantages is really, you know, the +desire for the best, and a factor in civilization. A generation or two +hence, the children of these pushing, aggressive fathers will be fine +men."</p> + +<p>John shook his head sadly. "Ah, but the present evil?"</p> + +<p>But Gifford answered cheerfully, "Oh, well, the present evil is one stage +of development; to live up to the best one knows is morality, and the +preservation of self is the best some of these people know; we can only +wait hopefully for the future."</p> + +<p>"Morality is not enough," John said gently. "Morality never saved a soul, +Mr. Woodhouse."</p> + +<p>But Helen laughed gayly: "John, dear, Gifford doesn't understand your +awful Presbyterian doctrines, and there is no use trying to convert him."</p> + +<p>Gifford smiled, and owned good-naturedly that he was a heathen. "But I +think," he said, "the thing which keeps the town back most is liquor."</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed," John answered, eagerly. "If it could be banished!"</p> + +<p>"High license is the only practical remedy," said Gifford, his face full +of interest; but John's fell.</p> + +<p>"No, no, not that; no compromise with sin will help us. I would have it +impossible to find a drop of liquor in Lockhaven."</p> + +<p>"What would you do in case of sickness?" Gifford asked curiously.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have it used."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, dear," Helen protested, "don't you think that's rather +extreme? You know it's life or death sometimes: a stimulant has to be +used, or a person would die. Suppose I had to have it?"</p> + +<p>His face flushed painfully. "Death is better than sin," he said slowly +and gently; "and you, if you——I don't know, Helen; no one knows his +weakness until temptation comes." His tone was so full of trouble, +Gifford, feeling the sudden tenderness of his own strength, said +good-naturedly, "What do you think of us poor fellows who confess to +a glass of claret at dinner?"</p> + +<p>"And what must he have thought of the dinner-table at the rectory?" Helen +added.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I noticed it," John said simply. "You were there."</p> + +<p>"There, Helen, that's enough to make you sign the pledge!" said Gifford.</p> + +<p>He watched them walking down the street, under the arching ailantus, +their footsteps muffled by the carpet of the fallen blossoms; and there +was a thoughtful look on his face when he went into his office, and, +lighting his lamp, sat down to look over some papers. "How is that going +to come out?" he said to himself. "Neither of those people will amend an +opinion, and Ward is not the man to be satisfied if his wife holds a +belief he thinks wrong." But researches into the case of McHenry <i>v.</i> +Coggswell put things so impractical as religious beliefs out of his mind.</p> + +<p>As for John and Helen, they walked toward the parsonage, and Gifford, and +his future, and his views of high license were forgotten, as well as the +sudden pain with which John had heard his wife's careless words about his +"awful doctrines."</p> + +<p>"It is very pleasant to see him so often," John said, "but how good it is +to have you all to myself!"</p> + +<p>Helen gave him a swift, glad look; then their talk drifted into those +sweet remembrances which happy husbands and wives know by heart: what he +thought when he first saw her, how she wondered if he would speak to her. +"And oh, Helen," he said, "I recollect the dress you wore,—how soft and +silky it was, but it never rustled, or gleamed; it rested my eyes just to +look at it."</p> + +<p>A little figure was coming towards them down the deserted street, with a +jug clasped in two small grimy hands.</p> + +<p>"Preacher!" cried a childish voice eagerly, "good-evenin', preacher."</p> + +<p>John stopped and bent down to see who it was, for a tangle of yellow hair +almost hid the little face.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is Molly," he said, in his pleasant voice. "Where have you been, +my child? Oh, yes, I see,—for dad's beer?"</p> + +<p>Molly was smiling at him, proud to be noticed. "Yes, preacher," she +answered, wagging her head. "Good-night, preacher." But they had gone +only a few steps when there was a wail. Turning her head to watch him out +of sight, Molly had tripped, and now all that was left of the beer was a +yellow scum of froth on the dry ground. The jug was unbroken, but the +child could find no comfort in that.</p> + +<p>"I've spilt dad's beer," she said, sobbing, and sinking down in a forlorn +heap on the ground.</p> + +<p>John knelt beside her, and tried to comfort her. "Never mind; we'll go +and tell dad it was an accident."</p> + +<p>But Molly only shook her head. "No," she said, catching her breath, as +she tried to speak, "'t won't do no good. He'll beat me. He's getting +over a drunk, so he wanted his beer, and he'll lick me."</p> + +<p>John looked down sadly at the child for a moment. "I will take you home, +Helen, and then I will go back with Molly."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Helen answered quickly, "let me go with you?"</p> + +<p>"No," John replied, "no, dear. You heard what Molly said? I—I cannot +bear that your eyes should see—what must be seen in Tom Davis's house +to-night. We will go to the parsonage now, and then Molly and I will tell +dad about the beer." He lifted the child gently in his arms, and stooped +again for the pitcher. "Come, Helen," he said, and they went towards the +parsonage. Helen entered reluctantly, but without a protest, and then +stood watching them down the street. The little yellow head had fallen on +John's shoulder, and Molly was almost asleep.</p> + +<p>Tom Davis's house was one of a row near the river. They had been built on +piles, so as to be out of the way of the spring "rise," but the jar and +shock of the great cakes of ice floating under them when the river opened +up had given them an unsteady look, and they leaned and stumbled so that +the stained plastering had broken on the walls, and there were large +cracks by the window frames. The broken steps of Molly's home led up to +a partly open door. One panel had been crushed in in a fight, and the +knob was gone, and the door-posts were dirty and greasy. The narrow +windows were without shutters, and only a dingy green paper shade hid +the room within.</p> + +<p>Molly opened her sleepy eyes long enough to say, "Don't let dad lick me!"</p> + +<p>"No, little Molly," John said, as he went into the small entry, and +knocked at the inner door. "Don't be afraid."</p> + +<p>"Come in," a woman's voice answered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis was sitting by the fireless stove, on which she had placed her +small lamp, and she was trying by its feeble light to do some mending. +Her face had that indifference to its own hopelessness which forbids all +hope for it. She looked up as they entered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's the preacher," she said, with a flickering smile about her +fretful lips; and she rose, brushing some lifeless strands of hair behind +her ears, and pulling down her sleeves, which were rolled above her thin +elbows.</p> + +<p>"Molly has had an accident, Mrs. Davis," John explained, putting the +child gently down, and steadying her on her uncertain little feet, until +her eyes were fairly opened. "So I came home with her to say how it +happened."</p> + +<p>"She spilt the beer, I reckon," said Mrs. Davis, glancing at the empty +jug John had put on the table. "Well, 't ain't no great loss. He's +asleep, and won't know nothing about it. He'll have forgot he sent her +by mornin'." She jerked her head towards one side of the room, where her +husband was lying upon the floor. "Go get the preacher a chair, Molly. +Not that one; it's got a leg broke. Oh, you needn't speak low," she +added, as John thanked the child softly; "he won't hear nothing before +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The lumberman lay in the sodden sleep with which he ended a spree. He had +rolled up his coat for a pillow, and had thrown one arm across his +purple, bloated face. Only the weak, helpless, open mouth could be seen. +His muscular hands were relaxed, and the whole prostrate figure was +pathetic in its unconsciousness of will and grotesque unhumanness. Fate +had been too strong for Tom Davis. His birth and all the circumstances of +his useless life had brought him with resistless certainty to this level, +and his progress in the future could only be an ever-hastening plunge +downward.</p> + +<p>But the preacher did not consider fate when he turned and looked at the +drunken man. A stern look crept over the face which had smiled at Molly +but a moment before.</p> + +<p>"This is the third time," he said, "that this has happened since Tom came +and told me he would try to keep sober. I had hoped the Spirit of God had +touched him."</p> + +<p>"I know," the woman answered, turning the coat she was mending, and +moving the lamp a little to get a better light; "and it's awful hard on +me, so it is; that's where all our money goes. I can't get shoes for the +children's feet, let alone a decent rag to put on my back to wear of a +Sabbath, and come to church. It's hard on me, now, I tell you, Mr. Ward."</p> + +<p>"It is harder on him," John replied. "Think of his immortal soul. Oh, +Mrs. Davis, do you point out to him the future he is preparing for +himself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I'm tellin' him he'll go to hell all the time; but it +don't do no good. Tom's afraid of hell, though; it's the only thing as +ever did keep him straight. After one o' them sermons of yours, I've +known him swear off as long as two months. I ain't been to church this +long time, till last Sabbath; and I was hopin' I'd hear one of that kind, +all about hell, Mr. Ward, so I could tell Tom, but you didn't preach that +way. Not but what it was good, though," she added, with an evident wish +to be polite.</p> + +<p>John's face suddenly flushed. "I—I know I did not, but the love of God +must constrain us, Mrs. Davis, as well as the fear of hell."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis sighed. Tom's spiritual condition, which had roused a +momentary interest, was forgotten in the thought of her own misery. +"Well, it's awful hard on me," she repeated with a little tremor in her +weak chin.</p> + +<p>John looked at her with infinite pity in his eyes. "Yes," he said, "hard +on you, because of the eternal suffering which may come to your husband. +Nothing can be more frightful than to think of such a thing for one we +love. Let us try to save him; pray always, pray without ceasing for his +immortal soul, that he may not slight the day of salvation, and repent +when it is too late to find the mercy of God. Oh, the horror of knowing +that the day of grace has gone forever! 'For my spirit shall not always +strive with man.'"</p> + +<p>He went over to the drunken man, and, kneeling down beside him, took one +of the helpless hands in his. Mrs. Davis put down her sewing, and watched +him.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the preacher prayed, as he knelt there, though she could not hear +him; but when he rose and said good-night, she could see his sad eyes +full of trouble which she could not understand, a pity beyond her +comprehension.</p> + +<p>Molly came sidling up to her protector, as he stood a moment in the +doorway, and, taking his hand in hers, stroked it softly.</p> + +<p>"I love you, preacher," she said, "'cause you're good."</p> + +<p>John's face brightened with a sudden smile; the love of little children +was a great joy to him, and the touch of these small hands gave him the +indefinable comfort of hope. God, who had made the sweetness of +childhood, would be merciful to his own children. He would give them +time, He would not withdraw the day of grace; surely Tom Davis's soul +would yet be saved. There was a subtle thought below this of hope that +for Helen, too, the day of grace might be prolonged, but he did not +realize this himself; he did not know that he feared for one moment that +she might not soon accept the truth. He was confident, he thought, of +her, and yet more confident of the constraining power of the truth +itself.</p> + +<p>He looked down at Molly, and put his hand gently on her yellow head. +"Be a good girl, my little Molly;" then, with a quiet blessing upon the +dreary home, he turned away.</p> + +<p>But what Mrs. Davis had said of going to church to hear a sermon on hell, +and her evident disappointment, did not leave his mind. He walked slowly +towards the parsonage, his head bent and his hands clasped behind him, +and a questioning anxiety in his face. "I will use every chance to speak +of the certain punishment of the wicked when I visit my people," he said, +"but not in the pulpit. Not where Helen would hear it—yet. In her frame +of mind, treating the whole question somewhat lightly, not realizing its +awful importance, it would be productive of no good. I will try, little +by little, to show her what to believe, and turn her thoughts to truth. +For the present that is enough, that is wisest." And then his heart went +back to her, and how happy they were. He stopped a moment, looking up at +the stars, and saying, with a breathless awe in his voice, "My God, how +good Thou art, how happy I am!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>The little stir which the arrival of the Forsythes made in Ashurst was +delightful.</p> + +<p>"Of course," as Mrs. Dale said, "Arabella Forsythe had not been born +there, and could not be expected to be just like Ashurst people; but it +was something to have a new person to talk to, even if you had to talk +about medicines most of the time."</p> + +<p>Lois Howe enjoyed it, for there were very few young people in Ashurst +that summer; the two Drayton girls had gone away to visit a married +brother, and there were no young men now Gifford had gone. So it was +pleasant to have a person of her own age to talk to, and sometimes to +walk with, though the rector never felt quite sure what his sister would +say to that. However, Mrs. Dale had nothing to say; she shut her eyes to +any impropriety, and even remarked severely to Miss Deborah Woodhouse +that those old-fashioned ideas of a girl's being always under her +mother's eye, were prim and old maidish; "and beside, Lois's mother is +dead," she added, with a sort of triumph in her voice.</p> + +<p>As for Lois, she almost forgot that she had thought Ashurst lonely when +Helen had gone, and Gifford; for of course, in so small a place, every +one counted. She had wondered, sometimes, before the Forsythes came, with +a self-consciousness which was a new experience, if any one thought she +missed Gifford. But her anxiety was groundless,—Ashurst imagination +never rose to any such height; and certainly, if the letters the young +man wrote to her could have been seen, such a thought would not have been +suggested. They were pleasant and friendly; very short, and not very +frequent; mostly of Helen and what she did; there was almost nothing of +himself, and the past, at least as far as a certain night in June was +concerned, was never mentioned. At first this was a relief to Lois, but +by and by came a feeling too negative to be called pique, or even +mortification at having been forgotten; it was rather an intangible +soreness in her memory of him.</p> + +<p>"It is just as Miss Deborah says," she said to herself: "young men always +forget those things. And it is better that they do. Gifford never thinks +of what he said to me, and I'm sure I'm glad he doesn't—but still!" And +then that absurd suggestion of Miss Deborah's about Helen would creep +into her mind; she might banish it, because it was silly and impossible, +yet she did not utterly forget it. However, she really thought very +little about it; the presence of Mrs. Forsythe and her son gave her +plenty of occupation. There was the round of teas and dinners which +Ashurst felt it incumbent to give to a new arrival, and Lois was to have +two new gowns in consequence of so much gayety.</p> + +<p>She spent a good deal of time with Mrs. Forsythe, for the elder lady +needed her, she said. It was not altogether the companionship which +fascinated Lois: the sunny drawing-room of the house the Forsythes had +hired was filled with dainty things, and light, graceful furniture, and +many harmlessly silly novels; there was a general air about it of +belonging to a life she had never seen which made it a pleasure to come +into it. The parlors in Ashurst had such heavy, serious chairs and +tables, she said to herself, and the pictures were all so dark and ugly, +and she was so tired of the carpets.</p> + +<p>So she was very glad when Mrs. Forsythe begged her to come and read +aloud, or fix her flowers, or even stroke her soft white hair when she +had a headache. "Dick may be at home, my dear," Mrs. Forsythe would say +in her deprecating voice, "but you won't mind him?" And soon Lois did not +mind him at all.</p> + +<p>At first she was very shy in the presence of this light-hearted young +fellow, whose indifference to Ashurst opinion was very impressive; but by +and by that wore off, and Mrs. Forsythe's drawing-room echoed with their +young laughter. Lois began to feel with Dick the freedom and friendliness +which had once been only for Gifford. "Why couldn't Giff have been like +this?" she thought; yet she did not say that she and Mr. Forsythe were +like "brother and sister," for she was always conscious of a possibility +in their friendship; but it was enough that Mr. Forsythe was very +interesting, and that that summer, life was very delightful.</p> + +<p>After all, love is frequently a matter of propinquity.</p> + +<p>Dick found himself going often to the rectory, and Lois fell into the +habit of making her plans with the reservation, "In case Mr. Forsythe +calls;" and it generally happened that he did call. "Mother sends her +love, and will Miss Lois come and read to her a little while this +afternoon, if she is not too busy?" or, "Mother returns this dish, and +begs me to thank you for the jelly, and to tell Jean how good it was."</p> + +<p>It was easy for Dick to manufacture errands like these. Dr. Howe began to +think young Forsythe spent the greater part of his time at the rectory. +But this did not trouble him at all; in fact it was a satisfaction that +this lively young man liked the rectory so much. Dr. Howe did not go very +far into the future in his thoughts; he was distinctly flattered in the +present. Of course, if anything came of it (for the rector was not +entirely unworldly), why, it would be all for the best. So he was quite +patient if Lois was not on hand to hunt up a book for him or to fetch +his slippers, and he fell into the habit of spending much time in Mr. +Denner's office, looking over the "Field" and talking of their next +hunting trip. He was not even irritated when, one morning, wishing to +read a letter to his daughter, he had gone all over the house looking +for her, and then had caught a glimpse of her through the trees, down in +the sunny garden, with Dick Forsythe. "I'll just let that letter wait," +he said, and went and stretched himself comfortably on the slippery, +leather-covered sofa in the shaded library, with a paper in his hand and +a satisfied smile on his lips.</p> + +<p>The garden was ablaze with color, and full of all sorts of delicious +scents and sounds. The gay old-fashioned flowers poured a flood of +blossoms through all the borders: hollyhocks stood like rockets against +the sky; sweet-peas and scarlet runners scrambled over the box hedges and +about the rose-bushes; mallows and sweet-williams, asters and zinias and +phlox, crowded close together with a riotous richness of tint; scarlet +and yellow nasturtiums streamed over the ground like molten sunshine; +and, sparkling and glinting through the air, butterflies chased up and +down like blossoms that had escaped from their stems.</p> + +<p>Lois had come out to pick some flowers for the numerous vases and bowls +which it was her delight to keep filled all summer long. She was +bareheaded, and the wind had rumpled the curls around her forehead; the +front of her light blue dress—she wore light blue in a manner which +might have been called daring had it implied the slightest thought—was +caught up to hold her lapful of flowers; a sheaf of roses rested on her +shoulder, and some feathery vines trailed almost to the ground, while in +her left hand, their stems taller than her own head, were two stately +sunflowers, which were to brighten the hall.</p> + +<p>Mr. Forsythe caught sight of her as he closed the gate, and hurried +down the path to help her carry her fragrant load. He had, as usual, a +message to deliver. "Mother sends her love, Miss Lois, and says she isn't +well enough to go and drive this afternoon; but she'll be glad to go +to-morrow, if you'll take her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed!" Lois cried, in her impetuous voice. "But I'm sorry +she's ill to-day."</p> + +<p>Dick gave the slightest possible shrug of his square shoulders. "Oh, I +guess she's all right," he said. "It amuses her. But won't you give me +some flowers to take home to her?"</p> + +<p>Of course Lois was delighted to do it, but Dick insisted that she should +first put those she had already gathered in water, and then get some +fresh ones for his mother. "You see I'm very particular that she should +have the best;" then they both laughed. Now mutual laughter at small +jokes brings about a very friendly feeling.</p> + +<p>They went up to the side porch, where it was shady, and Lois and Sally +brought out all the vases and dishes which could be made to hold flowers, +and put them in a row on the top step. Then Dick brought a big pitcher of +fresh, cold water from the spring, and Lois went for the garden scissors +to clip off the long stems; and at last they were ready to go to work, +the sweet confusion of flowers on the steps between them, and Max sitting +gravely at Lois's elbow as chaperon.</p> + +<p>The rector heard their voices and the frequent shouts of laughter, and +began to think he must bestir himself; Mr. Forsythe should see that +Ashurst young women were under the constant over-sight of their parents; +but he yawned once or twice, and thought how comfortable the cool leather +of the lounge was, and had another little doze before he went out to the +porch with the open letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>Dick had his hat full of white, and pink, and wine-colored hollyhocks, +which he had stripped from their stems, and was about to put in a shallow +dish, so he did not rise, but said "Hello!" in answer to the rector's +"Good-morning," and smiled brightly up at him. It was the charm of this +smile which made the older people in Ashurst forget that he treated +them with very little reverence.</p> + +<p>"Lois," her father said, "I have a letter from Helen; do you want to send +any message when I answer it? Mr. Forsythe will excuse you if you read +it."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," Dick replied. "I feel almost as though I knew Mrs. +Ward, Miss Lois has talked so much about her."</p> + +<p>"How funny to hear her called 'Mrs. Ward!'" Lois said, taking the letter +from her father's hand.</p> + +<p>"I should think she'd hate Lockhaven," Dick went on. "I was there once +for a day or two. It is a poor little place; lots of poverty among the +hands. And it is awfully unpleasant to see that sort of thing. I've heard +fellows say they enjoyed a good dinner more if they saw some poor beggar +going without. Now, I don't feel that way. I don't like to see such +things; they distress me, and I don't forget them."</p> + +<p>Lois, reading Helen's letter, which was full of grief for the helpless +trouble she saw in Lockhaven, thought that Mr. Forsythe had a very tender +heart. Helen was questioning the meaning of the suffering about her; +already the problem as old as life itself confronted her, and she asked, +Why?</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe had noticed this tendency in some of her later letters, and +scarcely knew whether to be annoyed or amused by it. "Now what in the +world," he said, as Lois handed back the letter,—"what in the world does +the child mean by asking me if I don't think—stay, where is that +sentence?" The rector fumbled for his glasses, and, with his lower lip +thrust out, and his gray eyebrows gathered into a frown, glanced up and +down the pages. "Ah, yes, here: 'Do you not think,' she says, 'that the +presence in the world of suffering which cannot produce character, +irresponsible suffering, so to speak, makes it hard to believe in the +personal care of God?' It's perfect nonsense for Helen to talk in that +way! What does she know about 'character' and 'irresponsible suffering'? +I shall tell her to mend her husband's stockings, and not bother her +little head with theological questions that are too big for her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Lois answered, carefully snipping off the thorns on the +stem of a rose before she plunged it down into the water in the big +punch-bowl; "but people cannot help just wondering sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Now, Lois, don't you begin to talk that way," the rector cried +impatiently; "one in a family is enough!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Dick Forsythe gayly, "what's the good of bothering about +things you can't understand?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly," the rector answered. "Be good! if we occupy our minds with +conduct, we won't have room for speculation, which never made a soul +better or happier, anyhow. Yes, it's all nonsense, and I shall tell Helen +so; there is too much tendency among young people to talk about things +they don't understand, and it results in a superficial, skin-deep sort of +skepticism that I despise! Besides," he added, laughing and knocking his +glasses off, "what is the good of having a minister for a husband? She +ought to ask him her theological questions."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, you know, father," Lois said, "Helen isn't the sort of woman +to be content just to step into the print her husband's foot has made. +She'll choose what she thinks is solid ground for herself. And she isn't +superficial."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, of course not," the rector began, relenting. "I didn't mean to +be hard on the child. But she mustn't be foolish. I don't want her to +make herself unhappy by getting unsettled in her belief, and that is what +this sort of questioning results in. But I didn't come out to scold +Helen; it just occurred to me that it might be a good thing to send her +that twenty-five dollars I meant to give to domestic missions, and let +her use it for some of her poor people. What?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, do!" Lois replied.</p> + +<p>"Let me send twenty-five dollars, too!" Dick cried, whipping out a +check-book.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe protested, but Mr. Forsythe insisted that it was a great +pleasure. "Don't you see," he explained, smiling, "if Mrs. Ward will +spend some money for me, it will make my conscience easy for a month; +for, to tell you the truth, doctor, I don't think about poor people any +more than I can help; it's too unpleasant. I'm afraid I'm very selfish."</p> + +<p>This was said with such a good-natured look, Dr. Howe could only smile +indulgently. "Ah, well, you're young, and I'm sure your twenty-five +dollars for Helen's poor people will cover a multitude of sins. I fancy +you are not quite so bad as you would have us believe."</p> + +<p>Lois watched him draw his check, and was divided between admiration and +an undefined dissatisfaction with herself for feeling admiration for +what really meant so little.</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," the rector said heartily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're welcome, I'm sure," answered the other.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe folded the check away in a battered leather pocket-book, shiny +on the sides and ragged about the corners, and overflowing with odds and +ends of memoranda and newspaper clippings; a row of fish-hooks was +fastened into the flap, and he stopped to adjust these before he went +into the house to answer Helen's letter.</p> + +<p>He snubbed her good-naturedly, telling her not to worry about things +too great for her, but beneath his consciousness there lurked a little +discomfort, or even irritation. Duties which seem dead and buried, and +forgotten, are avenged by the sting of memory. In the rector's days at +the theological school, he had himself known those doubts which may lead +to despair, or to a wider and unflinching gaze into the mysteries of +light. But Archibald Howe reached neither one condition nor the other. +He questioned many things; he even knew the heartache which the very fear +of losing faith gives. But the way was too hard, and the toil and anguish +of the soul too great; he turned back into the familiar paths of the +religion he knew and loved; and doubt grew vague, not in assured belief, +but in the plain duties of life. After a little while, he almost forgot +that he ever had doubted. Only now and then, when some questioning soul +came to him, would he realize that he could not help it by his own +experience, only by a formula,—a text-book spirituality; then he would +remember, and promise himself that the day should come when he would face +uncertainty and know what he believed. But it was continually eluding +him, and being put off; he could not bear to run the risk of disturbing +the faith of others; life was too full; he had not the time for study and +research,—and perhaps it would all end in deeper darkness. Better be +content with what light he had. So duty was neglected, and his easy, +tranquil life flowed on.</p> + +<p>Writing his careless rebuke to Helen brought this past unpleasantly +before his mind; he was glad when he had sanded his paper and thrust the +folded letter into its envelope, and could forget once more.</p> + +<p>Dick Forsythe had prolonged his call by being very careful what flowers +were picked for his mother, and he and Lois wandered over the whole +garden, searching for the most perfect roses, before he acknowledged that +he was content. When they parted at the iron gate, he was more in love +than ever, and Lois walked back to the rectory, thinking with a vague +dissatisfaction how much she would miss the Forsythes when they left +Ashurst.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Forsythe's was not the sort of love which demanded solitude or +silence, so that when he saw Mr. Dale coming from Mr. Denner's little law +office, he made haste to join him. Conversation of any sort, and with any +person, was a necessity to this young man, and Mr. Dale was better than +no one.</p> + +<p>"I've just been to the rectory," he said, as he reached the older man's +side.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," Mr. Dale answered shortly. Perhaps he was the only person +in Ashurst who was not blinded by the glamour of that World which Mr. +Forsythe represented, and who realized the nature of the young man +himself. Dick's superficiality was a constant irritation to Mr. Dale, who +missed in him that deference for the opinions of older people which has +its roots in the past, in the training of fathers and mothers in courtesy +and gentleness, and which blossoms in perfection in the third or fourth +generation.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in his voice to encourage Dick to talk about Lois Howe, +so he wisely turned the conversation, but wished he had a more congenial +companion. Mr. Dale walked with hands behind him and shoulders bent +forward; his wide-brimmed felt hat was pulled down over his long soft +locks of white hair, and hid the expression of his face.</p> + +<p>So Dick rattled on in his light, happy voice, talking of everything or +nothing, as his hearer might happen to consider it, until suddenly Mr. +Dale's attention was caught: Dick began to speak of John Ward. "I thought +I'd seen him," he was saying. "The name was familiar, and then when Miss +Lois described his looks, and told me where he studied for the ministry, +I felt sure of it. If it is the same man, he must be a queer fellow."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Mr. Dale. He did not know John Ward very well, and had no +particular feeling about him one way or the other; but people interested +Mr. Dale, and he had meant some time to study this man with the same +impersonal and kindly curiosity with which he would have examined a new +bug in his collection.</p> + +<p>"Because, if he's the man I think he is,—and I guess there is no doubt +about it—thin, dark, and abstracted-looking, named Ward, and studying at +the Western Theological Seminary that year,—I saw him do a thing—well, +I never knew any other man who would have done it!"</p> + +<p>"What was it, sir?" said Mr. Dale, turning his mild blue eyes upon the +young man, and regarding him with an unusual amount of interest.</p> + +<p>Dick laughed. "Why," he answered, "I saw that man,—there were a lot of +us fellows standing on the steps of one of the hotels; it was the busiest +street and the busiest time of the day, and there was a woman coming +along, drunk as a lord. Jove! you ought to have seen her walk! She +couldn't walk,—that was about the truth of it; and she had a miserable +yelling brat in her arms. It seemed as though she'd fall half a dozen +times. Well, while we were standing there, I saw that man coming down the +street. I didn't know him then,—somebody told me his name, afterwards. I +give you my word, sir, when he saw that woman, he stood still one minute, +as though he was thunderstruck by the sight of her,—not hesitating, you +know, but just amazed to see a woman looking like that,—and then he went +right up to her, and took that dirty, screeching child out of her arms; +and then, I'm damned if he didn't give her his arm and walk down the +street with her!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale felt the shock of it. "Ah!" he said, with a quick indrawn +breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued Dick, who enjoyed telling a good story, "he walked down +that crowded street with that drunken, painted creature on his arm. I +suppose he thought she'd fall, and hurt herself and the child. Naturally +everybody looked at him, but I don't believe he even saw them. We stood +there and watched them out of sight—and—but of course you know how +fellows talk! Though so long as he was a <i>minister</i>"—Dick grinned +significantly, and looked at Mr. Dale for an answer; but there was none.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the old man stood still and gravely lifted his hat: "He's a good +man," he said, and then trudged on again, with his head bent and his +hands clasped behind him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Forsythe looked at him, and whistled. "Jove!" he exclaimed, "it +doesn't strike you as it did Dr. Howe. I told him, and he said, 'Bless my +soul, hadn't the man sense enough to call a policeman?'"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Dale had nothing more to say. The picture of John Ward, walking +through the crowded street with the woman who was a sinner upheld by his +strong and tender arm, was not forgotten; and when Dick had left him, and +he had lighted his slender silver pipe in the quiet of his basement +study, he said again, "He's a good man."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>It was one of those deliciously cold evenings in early autumn. All day +long the sparkling sunshine-scented air had held an exhilaration like +wine, but now night had folded a thin mist across the hills, though the +clear darkness of the upper sky was filled with the keen white light of +innumerable stars.</p> + +<p>A fire in the open grate in John Ward's study was pure luxury, for the +room did not really need the warmth. It was of that soft coal which +people in the Middle States burn in happy indifference to its dust-making +qualities, because of its charm of sudden-puffing flames, which burst +from the bubbling blackness with a singing noise, like the explosion of +an oak-gall stepped on unawares in the woods.</p> + +<p>It had been a busy day for John, ending with the weekly prayer-meeting; +and to sit now in front of the glowing fire, with Helen beside him, was a +well-earned rest.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon he had taken a dozen of the village children to find a +swamp whose borders were fringed with gentians, which seemed to have +caught the color of the wind-swept October skies. He would not let Helen +go. "The walk would tire you," he said; but he himself seemed to know no +weariness, though most of the time he carried one of the children, and +was continually lifting them over rough places, and picking their flowers +and ferns for them.</p> + +<p>Helen had seen them start, and watched them as they tramped over the +short, crisp grass of an upland pasture, and she could just distinguish +the words of a hymn they sung, John's deep, sweet tenor leading their +quavering treble:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"His loving kindness, loving kindness,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His loving kindness, oh, how free!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After they had gathered gentians to their hearts' content, they crowded +about John and begged for a story, for that was always the crowning bliss +of an afternoon with the preacher. But, though prefaced with the remark +that they must remember it was only a story and not at all true, their +enjoyment of gnomes and fairies, of wondrous palaces built of shining +white clouds, with stars for lamps, was never lessened. True, there was +generally a moral, but in his great desire to make it attractive John +often concealed it, and was never quite sure that his stories did the +good he intended. But they did good in another way; the children loved +him, as most of them loved nothing else in their meagre, hungry little +lives. And he loved them; they stirred the depths of tenderness in him. +What did the future hold for them? Misery, perhaps, and surely sin, for +what hope was there of purity and holiness in such homes as theirs? And +the horror of that further future, the sure eternity which follows sin, +cast a dreary shadow over them, and lent a suppressed passion to the +fervor with which he tried to win their love, that he might lead them to +righteousness.</p> + +<p>But it was his gentleness, and a childlike simplicity which they +themselves must early lose, which attracted and charmed the children, and +made them happy and contented if they could but be with the preacher.</p> + +<p>They had left him reluctantly at the parsonage gate, clamoring for +another afternoon, which was gladly promised. Then John had had a quiet +half hour for further thought upon his evening talk to his people, which +had been prepared the day before. Helen had laughed at the amount of +study given to every address. "I wish you could see how uncle Archie +manages his sermons."</p> + +<p>"He has not the sort of people I have," John said, with kindly excuse. +"Yet think of the importance of speaking to any one in Christ's name! We +preach for eternity, Helen,—for eternity."</p> + +<p>She looked at him gravely. "John," she answered, "you take these things +too much to heart. It is not wise, dear."</p> + +<p>He hesitated, and then said gently, "These are the only things to take to +heart. We only live to prepare for that other life. Can we be too earnest +dear, when eternity hangs upon the use we make of time? That thought is a +continual spur to make me eager for my duty to my people."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know it," Helen responded, laying her head upon his shoulder; "but +don't work too hard."</p> + +<p>He put his arms about her, and the impulse which had been strong a moment +before to speak to her of her own soul was forgotten.</p> + +<p>These prayer-meetings were trials to Helen Ward. She missed the stately +Liturgy of her own church. "I don't like to hear Elder Dean give the +Almighty so much miscellaneous information," she said, half laughing, yet +quite in earnest. But she always went, for at least there was the +pleasure of walking home with John. Beside, practice had made it possible +for her to hear without heeding, and in that way she escaped a great deal +of annoyance.</p> + +<p>This especial Wednesday evening, however, she had not been able to close +her ears to all that was said. She had grown restless, and looked about +the narrow whitewashed room where the lecture was given, and longed for +the reverence of the starlit silence outside.</p> + +<p>John had begun the meeting by a short prayer, simple and direct as a +child's request to his father, and after a hymn he said a few words on +the text he had chosen. Then the meeting was open, and to some of the +things said, Helen listened with indignant disapproval. As they walked +home, rejoicing in the fresh cold air and the sound of their quick +footsteps on the frosty ground, she made up her mind what she meant to +do, but she did not speak of it until they were by their own fireside.</p> + +<p>The room was full of soft half-darkness; shadows leaped out of the +corners, and chased the gleams of firelight; the tall clock ticked slowly +in the corner, and on the hearts of these two fell that content with life +and each other which is best expressed by silence.</p> + +<p>John sat at his wife's feet; his tired head was upon her knee, and he +could look up into her restful face, while he held one of her hands +across his lips. It was a good face to see: her clear brown eyes were +large and full, with heavy lids which drooped a little at the outer +corners, giving a look of questioning sincerity, which does not often +outlast childhood. Her bronze-brown hair was knotted low on her neck, and +rippled a little over a smooth white forehead.</p> + +<p>John had begun to stroke her hand softly, holding it up to shield his +eyes from the firelight, and twisting the plain band of her wedding ring +about.</p> + +<p>"What a dear hand," he said; "how strong and firm it is!"</p> + +<p>"It is large, at least," she answered, smiling. He measured it against +his own gaunt thin hand, which always had a nervous thrill in the pale +fingers. "You see, they are about the same size, but mine is certainly +much whiter. Just look at that ink-stain; that means you write too much. +I don't like you to be so tired in the evenings, John."</p> + +<p>"You rest me," he said, looking up into her face. "It is a rest even to +sit here beside you. Do you know, Helen," he went on, after a moment's +pause, "if I were in any pain, I mean any physical extremity, I would +have strength to bear it if I could hold your hand; it is so strong and +steady."</p> + +<p>She lifted her hand, and looked at it with amused curiosity, turning it +about, "to get the best light upon it."</p> + +<p>"I am in earnest," John said, smiling. "It is the visible expression of +the strength you are to me. With your help I could endure any pain. I +wonder," he went on, in a lower voice, as though thinking aloud, "if this +strength of yours could inspire me to bear the worst pain there could be +for me,—I mean if I had to make you suffer in any way?"</p> + +<p>Helen looked down at him, surprised, not quite understanding.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," he said,—"of course one can suppose anything,—that for your +best good I had to make you suffer: could I, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so," she answered gravely; "I hope I should give you strength to +do it."</p> + +<p>They fell again into their contented silence, watching the firelight, and +thinking tenderly each of the other. But at last Helen roused herself +from her reverie with a long, pleasant sigh of entire peace and comfort.</p> + +<p>"John, do you know, I have reached a conclusion? I'm not going to +prayer-meeting any more."</p> + +<p>John started. "Why, Helen!" he said, a thrill of pain in his voice.</p> + +<p>But Helen was not at all troubled. "No, dear. Feeling deeply as I do +about certain things, it is worse than useless for me to go and hear +Elder Dean or old Mr. Smith; they either annoy me or amuse me, and I +don't know which is worse. I have heard Mr. Smith thank the Lord that we +are not among the pale and sheeted nations of the dead, ever since I came +to Lockhaven. And Elder Dean's pictures of the eternal torments of the +damned, 'souls wreathing in sulphurous flames' (those were his words +to-night, John!), and then praising God for his justice (his justice!) +right afterwards,—I cannot stand it, dear. I do not believe in hell, +such a hell, and so it is absurd to go and listen to such things. But I +won't miss my walk with you," she added, "for I will come and meet you +every Wednesday evening, and we'll come home together."</p> + +<p>John had risen as she talked, and stood leaning against the mantel, his +face hidden by his hand. Her lightly spoken words had come with such a +shock, the blood leaped back to his heart, and for a moment he could not +speak. He had never allowed himself to realize that her indifference to +doctrine was positive unbelief; had his neglect encouraged her ignorance +to grow into this?</p> + +<p>At last he said very gently, "But, dearest, I believe in hell."</p> + +<p>"I know it," she answered, no longer carelessly, but still smiling, +"but never mind. I mean, it does not make any difference to me what you +believe. I wouldn't care if you were a Mohammedan, John, if it helped you +to be good and happy. I think that different people have different +religious necessities. One man is born a Roman Catholic, for instance, +though his father and mother may be the sternest Protestants. He cannot +help it; it is his nature! And you"—she looked up at him with infinite +tenderness in her brown eyes,—"you were born a Presbyterian, dear; you +can't help it. Perhaps you need the sternness and the horror of some of +the doctrines as a balance for your gentleness. I never knew any one as +gentle as you, John."</p> + +<p>He came and knelt down beside her, holding her face between his hands, +and looking into her clear eyes. "Helen," he said, "I have wanted to +speak to you of this; I have wanted to show you the truth. You will not +say you cannot believe in hell (in justice, Helen) when I prove"—</p> + +<p>"Don't prove," she interrupted him, putting her hand softly across his +lips, "don't let us argue. Oh, a theological argument seems to me +sacrilege, and dogma can never be an antidote for doubt, John. I must +believe what my own soul asserts, or I am untrue to myself. I must begin +with that truth, even if it keeps me on the outskirts of the great Truth. +Don't you think so, dear? And I do not believe in hell. Now that is +final, John."</p> + +<p>She smiled brightly into his troubled face, and, seeing his anxiety, +hastened to save him further pain in the future. "Do not let us ever +discuss these things. After all, doctrine is of so little importance, and +argument never can result in conviction to either of us, for belief is a +matter of temperament, and I do so dislike it. It really distresses me, +John."</p> + +<p>"But, dearest," he said, "to deliberately turn away from the search for +truth is spiritual suicide."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you misunderstand me," she replied quickly. "Of course one's soul +always seeks for truth, but to argue, to discuss details, which after all +are of no possible importance, no more part of the eternal verities than +a man's—buttons are of his character! Now, remember," with smiling +severity, "never again!" She laid her head down on his shoulder. "We are +so happy, John, so happy; why should we disturb the peace of life? Never +mind what we think on such matters; we have each other, dear!"</p> + +<p>He was silenced; with her clinging arm about him, and her tender eyes +looking into his, he could not argue; he was the lover, not the preacher.</p> + +<p>He kissed her between her level brows; it was easy to forget his duty! +Yet his conscience protested faintly. "If you would only let me tell +you"—</p> + +<p>"Not just now," she said, and Helen's voice was a caress. "Do you +remember how, that first time we saw each other, you talked of belief?" +It was so natural to drift into reminiscence, kneeling there in the +firelight by her side, John almost forgot how the talk had begun, and +neither of them gave a thought to the lateness of the hour, until they +were roused by a quick step on the path, and heard the little gate pushed +hurriedly open, shutting again with a bang.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's Gifford Woodhouse," John said, leaning forward to give the +fire that inevitable poke with which the coming guest is welcomed.</p> + +<p>"No, it can't be Giff," Helen answered, listening; "he always whistles."</p> + +<p>But it was Gifford. The quick-leaping flame lighted his face as he +entered, and Helen saw that, instead of its usual tranquil good-nature, +there was a worried look.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'm disturbing you," he said, as they both rose to welcome +him, and there was the little confusion of lighting the lamp and drawing +up a chair. "Haven't I interrupted you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," John replied simply, "but it is well you did. I have some writing +I must do to-night, and I had forgotten it. You and Helen will excuse me +if I leave you a little while?"</p> + +<p>Both the others protested: Gifford that he was driving Mr. Ward from his +own fireside, and Helen that it was too late for work.</p> + +<p>"No, you are not driving me away. My papers are up-stairs. I will see you +again," he added, turning to Gifford; and then he closed the door, and +they heard his step in the room above.</p> + +<p>The interruption had brought him back to real life. He left the joy which +befogged his conscience, and felt again that chill and shock which +Helen's words had given him, and that sudden pang of remorse for a +neglected duty; he wanted to be alone, and to face his own thoughts. His +writing did not detain him long, and afterwards he paced the chilly room, +struggling to see his duty through his love. But in that half hour +up-stairs he reached no new conclusion. Helen's antipathy to doctrine was +so marked, it was, as she said, useless to begin discussion; and it would +be worse than useless to urge her to come to prayer-meeting, if she did +not want to; it would only make her antagonistic to the truth. She was +not ready for the strong meat of the Word, which was certainly what his +elders fed to hungry souls at prayer-meetings. John did not know that +there was any reluctance in his own mind to disturb their harmony and +peace by argument; he simply failed to recognize his own motives; the +reasons he gave himself were all secondary.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have come so late," Gifford said, "and it is a shame to +disturb Mr. Ward, but I did want to see you so much, Helen!"</p> + +<p>Helen's thoughts were following her husband, and it was an effort to +bring them back to Gifford and his interests, but she turned her tranquil +face to him with a gracious gentleness which never left her. "He will +come back again," she said, "and he will be glad to have this writing off +his mind to-night. I was only afraid he might take cold; you know he has +a stubborn little cough. Why did you want to see me, Giff?"</p> + +<p>She took some knitting from her work-table, and, shaking out its fleecy +softness, began to work, the big wooden needles making a velvety sound as +they rubbed together. Gifford was opposite her, his hands thrust moodily +into his pockets, his feet stretched straight out, and his head sunk on +his breast. But he did not look as though he were resting; an intent +anxiety seemed to pervade his big frame, and Helen could not fail to +observe it. She glanced at him, as he sat frowning into the fire, but he +did not notice her.</p> + +<p>"Something troubles you, Gifford."</p> + +<p>He started. "Yes," he said. He changed his position, leaning his elbows +on his knees, and propping his chin on his fists, and still scowling at +the fire. "Yes, I came to speak to you about it."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would," Helen answered. But Gifford found it difficult to +begin.</p> + +<p>"I've had a letter from aunt Ruth to-day," he said at last, "and it has +bothered me. I don't know how to tell you, exactly; you will think it's +none of my business."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything wrong at the rectory?" Helen asked, putting down her +work, and drawing a quick breath.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, of course not," answered Gifford, "nothing like that. The +fact is, Helen—the fact is—well, plainly, aunt Ruth thinks that that +young Forsythe is in love with Lois."</p> + +<p>Gifford's manner, as he spoke, told Helen what she had only surmised +before, and she was betrayed into an involuntary expression of sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried the young man, with an impatient gesture and a sudden flush +tingling across his face, "you misunderstand me. I haven't come to whine +about myself, or anything like that. I'm not jealous; for Heaven's sake, +don't think I am such a cur as to be jealous! If that man was worthy of +Lois, I—why, I'd be the first one to rejoice that she was happy. I want +Lois to be happy, from my soul! I hope you believe me, Helen?"</p> + +<p>"I believe anything you tell me," she answered gently, "but I don't quite +understand how you feel about Mr. Forsythe; every one speaks so highly of +him. Even aunt Deely has only pleasant things to say of 'young Forsythe,' +as she calls him."</p> + +<p>Gifford left his chair, and began to walk about the room, his hands +grasping the lapels of his coat, and his head thrown back in a troubled +sort of impatience. "That's just it," he said; "in this very letter aunt +Ruth is enthusiastic, and I can't tell you anything tangible against him, +only I don't like him, Helen. He's a puppy,—that's the amount of it. And +I thought—I just thought—I'd come and ask you if you supposed—if +you—of course I've no business to ask any question—but if you +thought"—</p> + +<p>But Helen had understood his vague inquiry, "I should think," she said +"you would know that if he is what you call a <i>puppy</i> Lois couldn't care +for him."</p> + +<p>Gifford sat down, and took her ball of wool, beginning nervously to +unwind it, and then wind it up again.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she wouldn't see it," he said tentatively.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you don't trust her!" Helen cried brightly, "or you would not say +that. (Don't tie my worsted into knots!) When you write to Lois, why +don't you frankly say what you think of him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I could not," he responded quickly. "Don't you see, Helen, I'm a +young fellow myself, and—and you know Lois did not care for me when +I—told her. And if I said anything now, it would only mean that I was +jealous, that I wanted her myself. Whereas, I give you my word," striking +his fist sharply on his knee, "if he was fit for her, I'd rejoice; yes, +I—I love her so much that if I saw her happy with any other man (who was +worthy of her!) I'd be glad!"</p> + +<p>Helen looked doubtful, but did not discuss that; she ran her hand along +her needle, and gave her elastic work a pull. "Tell me more about him," +she said.</p> + +<p>But Gifford had not much to tell; it was only his vague distrust of the +man, which it was difficult to put into words. "A good out-and-out sinner +one can stand," he ended; "but all I saw of this Forsythe at the club and +about town only made me set him down as a small man, a—a puppy, as I +said. And I thought I'd talk to you about it, because, when you write to +Lois, you might just hint, you know."</p> + +<p>But Helen shook her head. "No, Gifford, that never does any good at all. +And I do not believe it is needed. The only thing to do now is to trust +Lois. I have no anxiety about her; if he is what you say, her own ideal +will protect her. Ah, Giff, I'm disappointed in you. I shouldn't have +thought you could doubt Lois."</p> + +<p>"I don't!" he cried, "only I am so afraid!"</p> + +<p>"But you shouldn't be afraid," Helen said, smiling; "a girl like Lois +couldn't love a man who was not good and noble. Perhaps, Gifford," she +ventured, after a moment's pause,—"perhaps it will be all right for you, +some time."</p> + +<p>"No, no," he answered, "I don't dare to think of it."</p> + +<p>Helen might have given him more courage, but John came in, and Gifford +realized that it was very late. "Helen has scolded me, Mr. Ward," he +said, "and it has done me good."</p> + +<p>John turned and looked at her. "Can she scold?" he said. And when Gifford +glanced back, as he went down the street, he saw them still standing in +the doorway in the starlight; Helen leaning back a little against John's +arm, so that she might see his face. The clear warm pallor of her cheek +glowed faintly in the frosty air.</p> + +<p>Gifford sighed as he walked on. "They are very happy," he thought. "Well, +that sort of happiness may never be for me, but it is something to love a +good woman. I have got that in my life, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Helen's confidence in her cousin's instinct might perhaps have been +shaken had she known what pleasure Lois found in the companionship of Mr. +Forsythe, and how that pleasure was encouraged by all her friends. That +very evening, while Gifford was pouring his anxieties into her ear, Lois +was listening to Dick's pictures of the gayeties of social life; the +"jolly times," as he expressed it, which she had never known.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe was reading, with an indignant exclamation occasionally, a +scathing review of an action of his political candidate, and his big +newspaper hid the two young people by the fire, so that he quite forgot +them. Max seemed to feel that the responsibility of propriety rested upon +him, and he sat with his head on Lois's knee, and his drowsy eyes +blinking at Mr. Forsythe. His mistress pulled his silky ears gently, +or knotted them behind his head, giving him a curiously astonished and +grieved look, as though he felt she trifled with his dignity; yet he did +not move his head, but watched, with no affection in his soft brown eyes, +the young man who talked so eagerly to Lois.</p> + +<p>"That brute hates me," said Mr. Forsythe, "and yet I took the trouble to +bring him a biscuit to-day. Talk of gratitude and affection in animals. +They don't know what it means!"</p> + +<p>"Max loves me," Lois answered, taking the setter's head between her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, that's different," cried Forsythe; "of course he does. I'd +like to know how he could help it. He wouldn't be fit to live, if he +didn't."</p> + +<p>Lois raised the hand-screen she held, so that Dick could only see the +curls about her forehead and one small curve of her ear. "How hot the +fire is!" she said.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe folded his newspaper with much crackling and widely opened arms. +"Don't sit so near it. In my young days, the children were never allowed +to come any nearer the fireplace than the outside of the hearth-rug." +Then he began to read again, muttering, "Confound that reporter!"</p> + +<p>Dick glanced at him, and then he said, in a low voice, "Max loves you +because you are so kind to him, Miss Lois; it is worth while to be a dog +to have you"—</p> + +<p>"Give him bones?" Lois cried hurriedly. "Yes, it is too hot in here, +father; don't you think so; don't you want me to open the window?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe looked up, surprised. "If you want to, child," he said. "Dear +me, I'm afraid I have not been very entertaining, Mr. Forsythe. What do +you think of this attack on our candidate? Contemptible, isn't it? What? +I have no respect for any one who can think it anything but abominable +and outrageous."</p> + +<p>"It's scandalous!" Dick answered,—and then in a smiling whisper to Lois, +he added, "I'm afraid to tell the doctor I'm a Democrat."</p> + +<p>But when Lois was quite alone that night, she found herself smiling in +the darkness, and a thrill of pride made her cheeks hotter than the fire +had done.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Deborah Woodhouse, as she stood in the doorway of Miss +Ruth's studio, "yes, we must give a dinner party, sister. It is certainly +the proper thing to do, now that the Forsythes are going back to the +city. It is to be expected of us, sister."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know that it is expected of us," said Miss Ruth, who never +agreed too readily to any suggestion of Miss Deborah's; "but I think we +ought to do it. I meant to have spoken to you about it."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth was washing some brushes, a task her soul abhorred, for it +was almost impossible to avoid some stain upon her apron or her hands; +though, to guard against the latter, she wore gloves. The corners of Miss +Ruth's mouth were drawn down and her eyebrows lifted up, and her whole +face was a protest against her work. On her easel was a canvas, where she +had begun a sketch purporting to be apple-blossoms.</p> + +<p>The studio was dark, for a mist of November rain blurred all the low gray +sky. The wide southwest window, which ran the length of the woodshed +(this part of which was devoted to art), was streaming with water, and +though the dotted muslin curtain was pushed as far back as it would go, +very little light struggled into the room. The dim engravings of nymphs +and satyrs, in tarnished frames, which had been hung here to make room +in the house for Miss Ruth's own productions, could scarcely be +distinguished in the gloom, and though the artist wore her glasses she +could not see to work.</p> + +<p>So she had pushed back her easel, and began to make things tidy for +Sunday. Any sign of disorder would have greatly distressed Miss Ruth. +Even her paint-tubes were kept scrupulously bright and clean, and nothing +was ever out of place. Perhaps this made the room in the woodshed a +little dreary, certainly it looked so now to Miss Deborah, standing in +the doorway, and seeing the gaunt whitewashed walls, the bare rafters, +and the sweeping rain against the window.</p> + +<p>"Do, sister," she entreated, "come into the house, and let us arrange +about the dinner."</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Ruth, sighing, "I must wash these brushes."</p> + +<p>"Why not let Sarah do it?" asked the other, stepping over a little stream +of water which had forced itself under the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Now, surely, sister," said Miss Ruth pettishly, "you know Sarah would +get the color on the handles. But there! I suppose you don't know how +artistic people feel about such things." She stopped long enough to take +off her gloves and tie the strings of her long white apron a little +tighter about her trim waist; then she went to work again.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose I don't understand," Miss Deborah acknowledged; "but never +mind, we can talk here, only it is a little damp. What do you think of +asking them for Thursday? It is a good day for a dinner party. You are +well over the washing and ironing, you know, and you have Wednesday for +the jellies and creams, besides a good two hours in the afternoon to get +out the best china and see to the silver. Friday is for cleaning up and +putting things away, because Saturday one is always busy getting ready +for Sunday."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth demurred. "I should rather have it on a Friday."</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't know anything about the housekeeping part of it," said +Miss Deborah, promptly. "And I don't believe William Denner would want +to come then; you know he is quite superstitious about Friday. Beside, it +is not convenient for me," she added, settling the matter once for all.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've no objection to Thursday," said Miss Ruth. "I don't know but +that I prefer it. Yes, we will have it on Thursday." Having thus asserted +herself, Miss Ruth began to put away her paints and cover her canvas.</p> + +<p>"It is a pity the whist was put off to-night," said Miss Deborah; "we +could have arranged it at the rectory. But if I see Adele Dale to-morrow, +I'll tell her."</p> + +<p>"I beg," said Miss Ruth quickly, "that you'll do nothing of the sort."</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Miss Deborah.</p> + +<p>"We will write the invitations, if you please," said Miss Ruth loftily.</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks!" retorted the other. "We'll write the Forsythes, of +course, but the people at the rectory and Adele Dale?—nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"It is not nonsense," Miss Ruth answered; "it is <i>proper</i>, and it must be +done. I understand these things, Deborah; you are so taken up with your +cooking, you cannot really be expected to know. When you invite city +people to a formal dinner, everything must be done decently and in order. +It is not like asking the rector and Adele to drop in to tea any time."</p> + +<p>"Fudge!" responded Miss Deborah.</p> + +<p>A faint color began to show in Miss Ruth's faded cheek, and she set her +lips firmly. "The invitations should be written," she said.</p> + +<p>It was settled, as usual, by each sister doing exactly as she pleased. +Miss Deborah gave her invitations by word of mouth the next day, standing +in the rain, under a dripping umbrella, by the church porch, while on +Monday each of the desired guests received a formal note in Miss Ruth's +precise and delicate hand, containing the compliments of the Misses +Woodhouse, and a request for the honor of their company at dinner on +Thursday, November 12th, at half past six o'clock.</p> + +<p>A compromise had been effected about the hour. Miss Ruth had insisted +that it should be at eight, while Miss Deborah contended that as they +dined, like all the rest of Ashurst, at noon, it was absurd to make it +later than six, and Miss Ruth's utmost persuasion had only brought it to +half past.</p> + +<p>During these days of preparation Miss Ruth could only flutter upon the +outskirts of the kitchen, which just now was a solemn place, and her +suggestions were scarcely noticed, and never heeded. It was hard to have +no share in those long conversations between Sarah and her sister, and +not to know the result of the mysterious researches among the receipts +which had been written out on blue foolscap and bound in marbled +pasteboard before Miss Deborah was born.</p> + +<p>Her time, however, came. Miss Deborah owned that no one could arrange a +table like Miss Ruth. The tall silver candlesticks with twisted arms, the +fruit in the open-work china baskets, the slender-stemmed glasses for the +wines, the decanters in the queer old coasters, and the great bunch of +chrysanthemums in the silver punch-bowl in the centre,—no one could +place them so perfectly as her sister.</p> + +<p>"Ruth," she affirmed, "has a touch," and she contemplated the board with +great satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Pray," said Miss Ruth, as she quietly put back in its place a fruit dish +which Miss Deborah had "straightened," "pray where are Mr. Dale's +comfits? They must be on the tray to be taken into the parlor."</p> + +<p>"Sarah will fetch them," answered Miss Deborah; and at that moment Sarah +entered with the candy and a stately and elaborate dish, which she placed +upon the sideboard.</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear man," said Miss Ruth. "I suppose he never gets all the candy +he wishes at home. I trust there is plenty for to-night, sister? But what +is that Sarah just brought in?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Miss Deborah replied, with anxious pride in her tone, "it is not +Easter, I know, but it does look so well I thought I'd make it, anyhow. +It is Sic itur ad astra."</p> + +<p>This dish had been "composed" by Miss Deborah many years ago, and was +considered by all her friends her greatest triumph. Dr. Howe had +christened it, declaring that it was of a semi-religious nature, but in +Miss Deborah's pronunciation the Latin was no longer recognizable.</p> + +<p>It consisted of an arrangement of strips of candied orange and lemon +peel, intended to represent a nest of straw. On it were placed jellied +creams in different colors, which had been run into egg-shells to +stiffen. The whole was intended to suggest a nest of new-laid eggs. The +housekeeper will at once recognize the trouble and expense of such a +dish, as the shells which served for moulds had first to be emptied of +their contents through a small hole in one end, hopelessly mixing the +whites and yolks, and leaving them useless for fine cookery.</p> + +<p>No wonder, then, that Miss Deborah's face beamed with pride. But Miss +Ruth's showed nothing but contempt. "That—that—barn-door dish!" she +ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Barn-door?" faltered Miss Deborah.</p> + +<p>"Barn-yard, I mean," said her sister sternly. "The idea of having such +a thing! Easter is the only excuse for it. It is undignified,—it is +absurd,—it is—it is preposterous!"</p> + +<p>"It is good," Miss Deborah maintained stoutly.</p> + +<p>"I don't deny that," said Miss Ruth, thinking they would have it for +dinner the next day, and perhaps the next also,—for it takes more +than one day for a family of two to eat up the remnants of a dinner +party,—"but you must see it is out of place at a formal dinner. It +must not appear."</p> + +<p>Discussion was useless. Each was determined, for each felt her particular +province had been invaded. And each carried her point. The dish did not +appear on the table, yet every guest was asked if he or she would have +some "Sicituradastra"—for to the housemaid it was one word—which was on +the sideboard.</p> + +<p>But the anxieties of the dinner were not over even when the table was as +beautiful and stately as could be desired, and Miss Deborah was conscious +that every dish was perfect. The two little ladies, tired, but satisfied, +had yet to dress. Sarah had put the best black silks on the bed in each +room, but for the lighter touches of the toilette the sisters were their +own judges. Miss Deborah must decide what laces she should wear, and long +did Miss Ruth stand at her dressing-table, wondering whether to pin the +pale lavender ribbon at her throat or the silver-gray one.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah was dressed first. She wore a miniature of her +great-grandfather as a pin, and her little fingers were covered with +rings, in strange old-fashioned settings. Her small figure had an unusual +dignity in the lustrous silk, which was turned away at the neck, and +filled with point-lace that looked like frosted cobwebs. The sleeves of +her gown were full, and gathered into a wristband over point-lace ruffles +which almost hid her little hands, folded primly in front of her. "Little +bishops" Miss Deborah called these sleeves, and she was apt to say that, +for her part, she thought a closely fitting sleeve was hardly modest. Her +full skirt rustled, as, holding herself very straight, she came into her +sister's room, that they might go down together.</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth was still in her gray linsey-woolsey petticoat, short enough to +show her trim ankles in their black open-worked silk stockings. She stood +with one hand resting on the open drawer of her bureau, and in the other +the two soft bits of ribbon, that held the faint fragrance of rose leaves +which clung to all her possessions. Miss Ruth would never have confessed +it, but she was thinking that Mr. Forsythe was a very genteel young man, +and she wished she knew which ribbon would be more becoming.</p> + +<p>"Ruth!" said Miss Deborah, in majestic disapproval.</p> + +<p>The younger sister gave a little jump of fright, and dropped the ribbons +hastily, as though she feared Miss Deborah had detected her thoughts. +"I—I'll be ready directly, sister."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, indeed," said Miss Deborah severely, and moved with +deliberate dignity from the room, while Miss Ruth, much fluttered, took +her dress from the high bedstead, which had four cherry-wood posts, +carved in alternate balloons and disks, and a striped dimity valance.</p> + +<p>She still realized the importance of the right ribbon, and the +responsibility of choice oppressed her; but it was too late for any +further thought. She shut her eyes tight, and, with a trembling little +hand, picked up the first one she touched. Satisfied, since Fate so +decided it, that gray was the right color, she pinned it at her throat +with an old brooch of chased and twisted gold, and gave a last glance +at her swinging glass before joining her sister in the parlor. The +excitement had brought a faint flush into her soft cheek, and her eyes +were bright, and the gray ribbon had a pretty gleam in it. Miss Ruth gave +her hair a little pat over each ear, and felt a thrill of forgotten +vanity.</p> + +<p>"It's high time you were down, Ruth," cried Miss Deborah, who stood on +the rug in front of the blazing fire, rubbing her hands nervously +together,—"high time!"</p> + +<p>"Why, they won't be here for a quarter of an hour yet, sister," protested +Miss Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Well, you should be here! I do hope they won't be late; the venison is +to be taken out of the tin kitchen precisely at five minutes of seven. +Do, pray, sister, step into the hall and see what o'clock it is. I really +am afraid they are late."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth went, but had scarcely crossed the threshold when Miss Deborah +cried, "Come back, come back, Ruth! You must be here when they come," and +then bustled away herself to fetch the housemaid to be ready to open the +door, though, as Miss Ruth had said, it was a good quarter of an hour +before the most impatient guest might be expected.</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth went about, straightening a chair, or pulling an antimacassar +to one side or the other, or putting an ornament in a better light, and +then stopping to snuff the candles in the brass sconces on either side of +the old piano. This and her anxiety about the venison fretted Miss +Deborah so much, it was a great relief to hear the first carriage, and +catch a glimpse of Mrs. Dale hurrying across the hall and up the stairs, +her well-known brown satin tucked up to avoid a speck of mud or dust.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah plucked Miss Ruth's sleeve, and, settling the lace at her +own throat and wrists, bade her sister stand beside her on the rug. "And +do, dear Ruth, try and have more repose of manner," she said, breathing +quite quickly with excitement.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Dale entered, rustling in her shiny satin, with Mr. Dale +shambling along behind her, the sisters greeted her with that stately +affection which was part of the occasion.</p> + +<p>"So glad to see you, dear Adele," said Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth in +turn; and Mrs. Dale responded with equal graciousness, and no apparent +recollection that they had almost quarreled that very morning at the +post-office, when Mrs. Dale said that the first cloth to be removed at +a dinner should be folded in fours, and Miss Deborah that it should be +folded in threes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner was the next to arrive, and while he was still making his bow +the Forsythes came in; Dick looking over the heads of the little ladies, +as though in search of some one else, and his mother languidly +acknowledging that it was an effort to come out in the evening. Lois and +the rector came with Colonel Drayton, and Miss Deborah breathed a sigh of +relief that the venison would not be kept waiting.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Deborah took Mrs. Forsythe's arm, while Miss Ruth and Dick +closed the little procession, and they marched into the dining-room, and +took their places about the table, glittering with silver and glass, and +lighted by gleaming wax tapers. It had not occurred to the little ladies +to place Dick near Lois. Mrs. Drayton was the lady upon his right, and +Lois was between such unimportant people as Mr. Denner and Mr. Dale.</p> + +<p>Dick was the lion of the dinner, and all that he said was listened to +with deference and even awe. But it was a relief to Lois not to have +to talk to him. She sat now at Mr. Denner's side, listening to the +small stream of words bubbling along in a cheerful monotony, with +scarcely a period for her answers. She was glad it was so; for though +her apple-blossom face was drooped a little, and her gray eyes were not +often lifted, and she looked the embodiment of maiden innocence and +unworldliness, Lois was thinking the thoughts which occupied her much of +late; weighing, and judging, struggling to reach some knowledge of +herself, yet always in the same perplexity. Did she love Dick Forsythe? +There was no doubt in her mind that she loved the life he represented; +but further than this she could not go. Yet he was so kind, she thought, +and loved her so much. If, then and there, Dick could have whispered the +question which was trembling on his lips, Lois was near enough to love to +have said Yes.</p> + +<p>Dinner was nearly over; that last desultory conversation had begun, which +was to be ended by a bow from Miss Deborah to Mrs. Forsythe, and the +ladies were dipping their nuts in their wine, half listening, and half +watching for the signal to rise.</p> + +<p>"How much we miss Gifford on such an occasion!" said Mr. Dale to Miss +Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the little lady, "dear Giff! How I wish he were here! He +would so enjoy meeting Mr. Forsythe."</p> + +<p>Lois smiled involuntarily, and the current of her thoughts suddenly +turned. She saw again the fragrant dusk of the rectory garden, and heard +the wind in the silver poplar and the tremble in a strong voice at her +side.</p> + +<p>She was as perplexed as ever when the ladies went back to the parlor. +Mrs. Forsythe came to her, as they passed through the hall, and took the +young girl's hand in hers.</p> + +<p>"I shall miss you very much this winter, Lois," she said, in her mildly +complaining voice. "You have been very good to me; no daughter could have +been more thoughtful. And I could not have loved a daughter of my own +more." She gently patted the hand she held. "Dick is not very happy, my +dear."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," faltered Lois.</p> + +<p>They had reached the parlor door, and Mrs. Forsythe bent her head towards +the girl's ear. "I hope—I trust—he will be, before we leave Ashurst."</p> + +<p>Lois turned away abruptly; how could she grieve this gentle invalid!</p> + +<p>"She'll find out what Arabella Forsythe is, one of these days," Mrs. Dale +thought, "but it's just as well she should love her for the present." Nor +did she lose the opportunity of using her influence to bring about the +desired consummation.</p> + +<p>Lois had gone, at Miss Deborah's request, to the piano, and begun to +sing, in her sweet girlish voice, some old-fashioned songs which the +sisters liked.</p> + +<p>"Jamie's on the stormy sea!" sang Lois, but her voice trembled, and she +missed a note, for Mrs. Dale had left the group of ladies about the fire, +and bent over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You know they go on Saturday, Lois," she said. "Do, now, I beg of you, +be a sensible girl. I never saw a man so much in love. You will be +perfectly happy, if you will only be sensible! I hope you will be at home +alone to-morrow."</p> + +<p>When the gentlemen entered, Dick Forsythe was quick to make his way to +Lois, sitting in the glimmer of the wax-lights in the sconces, at the old +piano.</p> + +<p>She stopped, and let her hands fall with a soft crash on the yellow keys.</p> + +<p>"Do go on," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "it is too cold over here; let us come to the fire," and +she slipped away to her father's side. After that she was silent until it +was time to say good-night, for no one expected her to speak, although +Dick was the centre of the group, and did most of the talking. Later in +the evening they had some whist, and after that, just before the party +broke up, Mr. Denner was asked to sing.</p> + +<p>He rose, coughed deprecatingly, and glanced sidewise at Mr. Forsythe; +he feared he was out of tune. But Miss Deborah insisted with great +politeness.</p> + +<p>"If Miss Ruth would be so good as to accompany me," said Mr. Denner, "I +might at least make the attempt."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth was shy about playing in public, but Mr. Denner encouraged her. +"You must overcome your timidity, my dear Miss Ruth," he said. "I—I am +aware that it is quite painful; but one ought not to allow it to become +a habit, as it were. It should be conquered in early life."</p> + +<p>So Miss Ruth allowed him to lead her to the piano. There was a little +stir about finding the music, before they were ready to begin; then Mr. +Denner ran his fingers through his brown wig, and, placing his small lean +hands on his hips, rocked back and forth on his little heels, while he +sang in a sweet but somewhat light and uncertain voice,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bonnie lassie! artless lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ye wi' me tent the flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will ye be my dearie, O?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This was received with great applause; then every one said good-night, +assuring each sister that it had been a delightful evening; and finally +the last carriage rolled off into the darkness, and the Misses Woodhouse +were left, triumphantly exhausted, to discuss the dinner and the guests.</p> + +<p>The rector walked home with Mr. Denner, who was still flushed with the +praise of his singing, so Lois had the carriage all to herself, and tried +to struggle against the fresh impulse of irresolution which Mrs. +Forsythe's whispered "Good-night, Lois; be good to my boy!" had given +her.</p> + +<p>She went into the library at the rectory, and, throwing off her wrap, sat +down on the hearth-rug, and determined to make up her mind. But first she +had to put a fresh log on the andirons, and then work away with the +wheezy old bellows, until a leaping flame lighted the shadowy room. The +log was green, and, instead of deciding, she found herself listening to +the soft bubbling noise of the sap, and thinking that it was the little +singing ghosts of the summer birds. Max came and put his head on her +knee, to be petted, and Lois's thoughts wandered off to the dinner party, +and Mr. Denner's singing, and what good things Miss Deborah cooked, and +how much his aunts must miss Gifford; so that she did not even hear the +front door open, or know that Dick Forsythe had entered, until she heard +Max snarl, and some one said in a tone which lacked its usual assurance, +"I—I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Lois?"</p> + +<p>She was on her feet before he had a chance to help her rise, and looked +at him with the frankest astonishment and dismay.</p> + +<p>What would aunt Deely say, what would Miss Deborah think! A young woman +receiving a gentleman alone after ten at night! "Father is not home yet," +she said hastily, so confused and startled she scarcely knew what she was +saying. "How dark it is in here! The fire has dazzled my eyes. I'll get +a light."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't," he said; "I like the firelight." But she had gone, and +came back again with Sally, who carried the lamps, and looked very much +surprised, for Sally knew Ashurst ways better than Mr. Forsythe did: her +young man always went home at nine.</p> + +<p>"How pleasant it was at Miss Deborah's!" Lois began, when Sally had gone +out, and she was left alone to see the anxiety in Dick's face. "Nobody +has such nice dinners as Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth." Lois's voice was +not altogether firm, yet, to her own surprise, she began to feel quite +calm, and almost indifferent; she knew why Dick had come, but she did not +even then know what her answer would be.</p> + +<p>"Yes—no—I don't know," he answered. "The fact is, I only seemed to +live, Miss Lois, until I could get here to see you to-night. I heard your +father say he was going home with Denner, and I thought you'd be alone. +So I came. I could not stand any more suspense!" he added, with something +like a sob in his voice.</p> + +<p>Lois's heart gave one jump of fright, and then was quiet. She thought, +vaguely, that she was glad he had rushed into it at once, so that she +need not keep up that terrible fencing, but she did not speak. She had +been sitting in a corner of the leather-covered sofa, and his excitement, +as he stood looking at her, made her rise.</p> + +<p>He grasped her hands in his, wringing them sharply as he spoke, not even +noticing her little cry of pain, or her efforts to release herself. "You +know I love you,—you know it! Why haven't you let me tell you so? Oh, +Lois, how lovely you are to-night,—how happy we shall be!"</p> + +<p>He kissed one of her hands with a sudden savage passion that frightened +her. "Oh—don't," she said, shrinking back, and pulling her hands away +from him.</p> + +<p>He looked at her blankly a moment, but when he spoke again it was gently. +"Did I frighten you? I didn't mean to; but you know I love you. That +hasn't startled you? Tell me you care for me, Lois."</p> + +<p>"But—but"—said Lois, sorry and ashamed, "I—don't!"</p> + +<p>The eager boyish face, so near her own, flushed with sudden anger. "You +don't? You must! Why—why, I love you. It cannot be that you really +don't—tell me?"</p> + +<p>But there was no doubt in Lois's mind now. "Indeed, Mr. Forsythe," she +said, "indeed, I am so sorry, but I don't—I can't!"</p> + +<p>A sullen look clouded his handsome face. "I cannot believe it," he said, +at length. "You have known that I loved you all summer; you cannot be so +cruel as to trifle with me now. You will not treat me so. Oh, I love +you!" There was almost a wail in his voice, and he threw himself down in +a chair and covered, his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>Lois did not speak. Her lip curled a little, but it was partly with +contempt for herself and her past uncertainty. "I am so sorry, so +grieved," she began. But he scarcely heard her, or at least he did not +grasp the significance of her words.</p> + +<p>He began to plead and protest. "We will be so happy if you will only +care for me. Just think how different your life will be; you shall have +everything in this world you want, Lois."</p> + +<p>She could not check his torrent of words, and when at last he stopped he +had almost convinced himself that she loved him.</p> + +<p>But she shook her head. "I cannot tell you how distressed I am, but I do +not love you."</p> + +<p>He was silent, as though trying to understand.</p> + +<p>"Won't you try and forget it? Won't you forgive me, and let us be +friends?" she said.</p> + +<p>"You really mean it? You really mean to make me wretched? Forget it? I +wish to Heaven I could!"</p> + +<p>Lois did not speak. There seemed to be nothing to say.</p> + +<p>"You have let me think you cared," he went on, "and I have built on it; +I have staked all my happiness on it; I am a ruined man if you don't love +me. And you coolly tell me you do not care for me! Can't you try to? I'll +make you so happy, if you will only make me happy, Lois."</p> + +<p>"Please—please," she protested, "do not say anything more; it never can +be,—indeed, it cannot!"</p> + +<p>Dick's voice had been tender a moment before, but it was hard now. +"Well," he said, "you have amused yourself all summer, I suppose. You +made me think you loved me, and everybody else thought so, too."</p> + +<p>The hint of blame kept Lois from feeling the sting of conscience. She +flung her head back, and looked at him with a flash of indignation in her +eyes. "Do you think it's manly to blame me? You had better blame yourself +that you couldn't win my love!"</p> + +<p>"Do you expect a man to choose his words when you give him his +death-blow?" he said; and then, "Oh, Miss Lois, if I wait, can't you +learn to care for me? I'll wait,—a year, if you say there's any hope. +Or do you love anybody else? Is that the reason?"</p> + +<p>"That has nothing to do with it," Lois cried, hotly, "but I don't."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Dick eagerly, "you must love me, only you don't recognize +it, not having been in love before. Of course it's different with a girl +who doesn't know what love is. Oh, say you do!"</p> + +<p>Lois, with quick compunction for her anger, was gentle enough now. "I +cannot say so. I wish you would forget me, and forgive me if you can. I'm +sorry to have grieved you,—truly I am."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a few minutes, only broken by a yawn from Max and +the snapping of the fire.</p> + +<p>"I tell you I cannot forget," the young man said, at last. "You have +ruined my life for me. Do you think I'll be apt to forget the woman +that's done that? I'll love you always, but life is practically over for +me. Remember that, the next time you amuse yourself, Miss Howe!" Then, +without another word, he turned on his heel and left her.</p> + +<p>Lois drew a long breath as she heard him slam the front door behind him, +and then she sat down on the rug again. She was too angry to cry, though +her hands shook with nervousness. But under all her excitement was the +sting of mortification and remorse.</p> + +<p>Max, with that strange understanding which animals sometimes show, +suddenly turned and licked her face, and then looked at her, all his love +speaking in his soft brown eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Max, dear," Lois cried, flinging her arms around him, and resting +her cheek on his shining head, "what a comfort you are! How much nicer +dogs are than men!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>Dr. Howe, with no thought of Mr. Forsythe's unceremonious call at the +rectory, had gone home with Mr. Denner. "One needs a walk," he said, +"after one of Miss Deborah's dinners. Bless my soul, what a housekeeper +that woman is!"</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Mr. Denner, hurrying along at his side,—"just so. Ah—it +has often occurred to me."</p> + +<p>And when the rector had left him at his white gateway between the +Lombardy poplars, Mr. Denner went into his library, and after stumbling +about to light his lamp, and stirring his fire to have a semblance, at +least, of cheer, he sat down and meditated further on this subject of +Miss Deborah's housekeeping.</p> + +<p>It was a dreary room, with lofty ceilings and few and narrow windows. The +house was much lower than the street, and had that piercing chill of +dampness which belongs to houses in a hollow, and the little gentleman +drew so close to the smouldering fire that his feet were inside the +fender.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward, and resting his elbows on his knees, propped his +chin on his hands, and stared at the smoke curling heavily up into the +cavernous chimney, where the soot hung long and black. It was very +lonely. Willie Denner, of course, had long ago gone to bed, and unless +the lawyer chose to go into the kitchen for company, where Mary was +reading her one work of fiction. "The Accounts of the Death Beds of +Eminent Saints," he had no one to speak to. Many a time before had he sat +thus, pondering on the solitude of his life, and contrasting his house +with other Ashurst homes. He glanced about his cold bare room, and +thought of the parlor of the Misses Woodhouse. How pleasant it was, how +bright, and full of pretty feminine devices! whereas his library—Mary +had been a hard mistress. One by one the domestic decorations of the +late lady of the house had disappeared. She could not "have things round +a-trapin' dust," Mary said, and her word was law.</p> + +<p>"If my little sister had lived," he said, crouching nearer the fire, +and watching a spark catch in the soot and spread over the chimney-back +like a little marching regiment, that wheeled and maneuvered, and then +suddenly vanished, "it would have been different. She would have made +things brighter. Perhaps she would have painted, like Miss Ruth; and +I have no doubt she would have been an excellent housekeeper. We +should have just lived quietly here, she and I, and I need never have +thought"—Mr. Denner flushed faintly in the firelight—"of marriage."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner's mind had often traveled as far as this; he had even gone to +the point of saying to himself that he wished one of the Misses Woodhouse +would regard him with sentiments of affection, and he and Willie, free +from Mary, could have a home of their own, instead of forlornly envying +the rector and Henry Dale.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Denner had never said which Miss Woodhouse; he had always thought +of them, as he would have expressed it, "collectively," nor could he have +told which one he most admired,—he called it by no warmer name, even to +himself.</p> + +<p>But as he sat here alone, and remembered the pleasant evening he had had, +and watched his fire smoulder and die, and heard the soft sigh of the +rising wind, he reached a tremendous conclusion. He would make up his +mind. He would decide which of the Misses Woodhouse possessed his deeper +regard. "Yes," he said, as he lifted first one foot and then the other +over the fender, and, pulling his little coat-tails forward under his +arms, stood with his back to the fireplace,—"yes, I will make up my +mind; I will make it up to-morrow. I cannot go on in this uncertain way. +I cannot allow myself to think of Miss Ruth, and how she would paint +her pictures, and play my accompaniments, and then find my mind on Miss +Deborah's dinners. It is impracticable; it is almost improper. To-morrow +I will decide."</p> + +<p>To have reached this conclusion was to have accomplished a great deal.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner went to bed much cheered; but he dreamed of walking about Miss +Ruth's studio, and admiring her pictures, when, to his dismay, he found +Mary had followed him, and was saying she couldn't bear things all of a +clutter.</p> + +<p>The next morning he ate his breakfast in solemn haste; it was to be an +important day for him. He watched Mary as she walked about, handing him +dishes with a sternness which had always awed him into eating anything +she placed before him, and wondered what she would think when she +heard—He trembled a little at the thought of breaking it to her; and +then he remembered Miss Ruth's kind heart, and he had a vision of a +pension for Mary, which was checked instantly by the recollection of +Miss Deborah's prudent economy.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," he thought, "I shall know to-night. Economy is a good +thing,—Miss Ruth herself would not deny that."</p> + +<p>He went out to his office, and weighed and balanced his inclinations +until dinner-time, and again in the afternoon, but with no result. Night +found him hopelessly confused, with the added grievance that he had not +kept his word to himself.</p> + +<p>This went on for more than a week; by and by the uncertainty began to +wear greatly upon him.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" he sighed one morning, as he sat in his office, his little +gaitered feet upon the rusty top of his air-tight stove, and his +brierwood pipe at his lips—it had gone out, leaving a bowl of cheerless +white ashes,—"dear me! I no sooner decide that it had better be Miss +Deborah—for how satisfying my linen would be if she had an eye on the +laundry, and I know she would not have bubble-and-squeak for dinner as +often as Mary does—than Miss Ruth comes into my mind. What taste she +has, and what an ear! No one notices the points in my singing as she +does; and how she did turn that carpet in Gifford's room; dear me!"</p> + +<p>He sat clutching his extinguished pipe for many minutes, when suddenly a +gleam came into his face, and the anxious look began to disappear.</p> + +<p>He rose, and laid his pipe upon the mantelpiece, first carefully knocking +the ashes into the wood-box which stood beside the stove. Then, standing +with his left foot wrapped about his right ankle and his face full of +suppressed eagerness, he felt in each pocket of his waistcoat, and +produced first a knife, then a tape measure, a pincushion, a bunch of +keys, and last a large, worn copper cent. It was smooth with age, but its +almost obliterated date still showed that it had been struck the year of +Mr. Denner's birth.</p> + +<p>Next, he spread his pocket handkerchief smoothly upon the floor, and +then, a little stiffly, knelt upon it. He rubbed the cent upon the cuff +of his coat to make it shine, and held it up a moment in the stream of +wintry sunshine that poured through the office window and lay in a golden +square on the bare floor.</p> + +<p>"Heads," said Mr. Denner,—"heads shall be Miss Deborah; tails, Miss +Ruth. Oh, dear me! I wonder which?"</p> + +<p>As he said this, he pitched the coin with a tremulous hand, and then +leaned forward, breathlessly watching it fall, waver from side to side, +and roll slowly under the bookcase. Too much excited to rise from his +knees, he crept towards it, and, pressing his cheek against the dusty +floor, he peered under the unwieldy piece of furniture, to catch a +glimpse of his penny and learn his fate.</p> + +<p>At such a critical moment it was not surprising that he did not, hear +Willie Denner come into the office. The little boy stood still, surprised +at his uncle's attitude. "Have you lost something, sir?" he said, but +without waiting for an answer, he fell on his knees and looked also.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see,—your lucky penny; I'll get it for you in a minute."</p> + +<p>And stretching out flat upon his stomach, he wriggled almost under the +bookcase, while Mr. Denner rose and furtively brushed the dust from his +knees.</p> + +<p>"Here it is, uncle William," Willie said, emerging from the shadow of the +bookcase; "it was clear against the wall, and 'most down in a crack."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner took the penny from the child, and rubbed it nervously between +his hands.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he inquired with great hesitation, "you did not chance to +observe, William, which—ah—which side was up?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," answered Willie, with amazement written on his little freckled +face; "it hadn't fallen, you know, uncle; it was just leaning against the +wall. I came in to bring my Latin exercise," he went on. "I'll run back +to school now, sir."</p> + +<p>He was off like a flash, saying to himself in a mystified way, "I wonder +if uncle William plays heads and tails all alone in the office?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner stood holding the penny, and gazing blankly at it, unconscious +of the dust upon his cheek.</p> + +<p>"That did not decide it," he murmured. "I must try something else."</p> + +<p>For Mr. Denner had some small superstitions, and it is doubtful if he +would have questioned fate again in the same way, even if he had not been +interrupted at that moment by the rector.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe came into the office beating his hands to warm them, his face +ruddy and his breath short from a walk in the cold wind. He had come to +see the lawyer about selling a bit of church land; Mr. Denner hastily +slipped his penny into his pocket, and felt his face grow hot as he +thought in what a posture the rector would have found him had he come +a few minutes sooner.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul, Denner," Dr. Howe said, when, the business over, he rose +to go, "this den of yours is cold!" He stooped to shake the logs in the +small stove, hoping to start a blaze. The rector would have resented any +man's meddling with his fire, but all Mr. Denner's friends felt a sort of +responsibility for him, which he accepted as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," replied Mr. Denner, "it is chilly here. It had not occurred +to me, but it is chilly. Some people manage to keep their houses very +comfortable in weather like this. It is always warm at the rectory, I +notice, and at Henry Dale's, or—ah—the Misses Woodhouse's,—always +warm."</p> + +<p>The rector, taking up a great deal of room in the small office, was on +his knees, puffing at the fire until his face was scarlet. "Yes. I don't +believe that woman of yours half looks after your comfort, Denner. Can't +be a good housekeeper, or she would not let this stove get so choked with +ashes."</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Denner acknowledged—"ah—I am inclined to agree with you, +doctor. Not perhaps a really good housekeeper. But few women are,—very +few. You do not find a woman like Miss Deborah Woodhouse often, you +know."</p> + +<p>"True enough," said Dr. Howe, pulling on his big fur gloves. "That +salad of hers, the other night, was something to live for. What is +that?—'plunge his fingers in the salad bowl'—'tempt the dying anchorite +to eat,'—I can't remember the lines, but that is how I feel about Miss +Deborah's salad." The rector laughed in a quick, breezy bass, beat his +hands together, and was ready to start.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Denner, "just so,—quite so. But Miss Deborah is a +remarkable woman, an estimable woman. One scarcely knows which is the +more admirable, Miss Deborah or Miss Ruth. Which should you—ah—which do +you most admire?"</p> + +<p>The rector turned, with one hand on the door-knob, and looked at the +lawyer, with a sudden gleam in his keen eyes. "Well, I am sure I don't +know. I never thought of comparing them. They are both, as you say, +estimable ladies."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Denner hurriedly. "I only mentioned it +because—it was merely in the most general way; I—I—did not mean to +compare—oh, not at all—of course I should never discuss a lady's worth, +as it were. I spoke in confidence; I merely wondered what your opinion +might be—not"—cried Mr. Denner, bursting into a cold perspiration of +fright to see how far his embarrassment had betrayed him—"not that I +really care to know! Oh, not at all!"</p> + +<p>The rector flung his head back, and his rollicking laugh jarred the very +papers on Mr. Denner's desk.</p> + +<p>"It is just as well you don't, for I am sure I could not say. I respect +them both immensely. I have from boyhood," he added, with a droll look.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner coughed nervously.</p> + +<p>"It is not of the slightest consequence," he explained,—"not the +slightest. I spoke thoughtlessly; ah—unadvisedly."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course; I understand," cried the rector, and forbore to +add a good-natured jest at Mr. Denner's embarrassment, which was really +painful.</p> + +<p>But when he was well out of hearing, he could not restrain a series of +chuckles.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he cried, clapping his thigh, "Denner!—Denner and Miss +Deborah! Bless my soul,—Denner!"</p> + +<p>His mirth, however, did not last long; some immediate annoyances of his +own forced themselves into his mind.</p> + +<p>Before he went to the lawyer's office, he had had a talk with Mrs. Dale, +which had not been pleasant; then a letter from Helen had come; and now +an anxious wrinkle showed itself under his fur cap, as he walked back to +the rectory.</p> + +<p>He had gone over to show Mr. Dale a somewhat highly seasoned sketch in +"Bell's Life;" in the midst of their enjoyment of it, they were +interrupted by Mrs. Dale.</p> + +<p>"I want to speak to you about Lois, brother. Ach! how this room smells of +smoke!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Why, what has the child done now?" said Dr. Howe.</p> + +<p>"You needn't say 'What has she done now?' as though I was always finding +fault," Mrs. Dale answered, "though I do try to do my Christian duty if +I see any one making a mistake."</p> + +<p>"Adele," remarked the rector, with a frankness which was entirely that +of a brother, and had no bearing upon his office, "you are always ready +enough with that duty of fault-finding." Mr. Dale looked admiringly at +his brother-in-law. "Why don't you think of the duty of praise, once in +a while? Praise is a Christian grace too much neglected. Don't you think +so, Henry?"</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Dale answered instead: "I am ready enough to praise when there +is occasion for it, but you can't expect me to praise Lois for her +behavior to young Forsythe. Arabella says the poor youth is completely +prostrated by the blow."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" murmured Mr. Dale under his breath; but Dr. Howe said +impatiently,—</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? What blow?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Lois has refused him!" cried Mrs. Dale. "What else?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know she had refused him," the rector answered slowly. "Well, +the child is the best judge, after all."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of it," said Mr. Dale,—"I am glad of it. He was no husband +for little Lois,—no, my dear, pray let me speak,—no husband for Lois. +I have had some conversation with him, and I played euchre with him once. +He played too well for a gentleman, Archibald."</p> + +<p>"He beat you, did he?" said the rector.</p> + +<p>"That had nothing to do with it!" cried Mr. Dale. "I should have said the +same thing had I been his partner"—</p> + +<p>"Fudge!" Mrs. Dale interrupted, "as though it made the slightest +difference how a man played a silly game! Don't be foolish, Henry. Lois +has made a great mistake, but I suppose there is nothing to be done, +unless young Forsythe should try again. I hope he will, and I hope she +will have more sense."</p> + +<p>The rector was silent. He could not deny that he was disappointed, and as +he went towards the post-office, he almost wished he had offered a word +of advice to Lois. "Still, a girl needs her mother for that sort of +thing, and, after all, perhaps it is best. For really, I should be very +dull at the rectory without her." Thus he comforted himself for what was +only a disappointment to his vanity, and was quite cheerful when he +opened Helen's letter.</p> + +<p>The post-office was in that part of the drug-store where the herbs were +kept, and the letters always had a faint smell of pennyroyal or wormwood +about them. The rector read his letter, leaning against the counter, +and crumpling some bay leaves between his fingers; and though he was +interrupted half a dozen times by people coming for their mail, and +stopping to gossip about the weather or the church, he gained a very +uncomfortable sense of its contents.</p> + +<p>"More of this talk about belief," he grumbled, as he folded the last +sheet, covered with the clear heavy writing, and struck it impatiently +across his hand before he thrust it down into his pocket. "What in the +world is John Ward thinking of to let her bother her head with such +questions?"</p> + +<p>"I am surprised" Helen wrote, "to see how narrowness and intolerance seem +to belong to intense belief. Some of these elders in John's church, +especially a man called Dean (the father of my Alfaretta), believe in +their horrible doctrines with all their hearts, and their absolute +conviction make them blind to any possibility of good in any creed which +does not agree with theirs. Apparently, they think they have reached the +ultimate truth, and never even look for new light. That is the strangest +thing to me. Now, for my part, I would not sign a creed to-day which I +had written myself, because one lives progressively in religion as in +everything else. But, after all, as I said to Gifford the other day, the +<i>form</i> of belief is of so little consequence. The main thing is to have +the realization of God in one's own soul; it would be enough to have +that, I should think. But to some of us God is only another name for the +power of good,—or, one might as well say force, and that is blind and +impersonal; there is nothing comforting or tender in the thought of +force. How do you suppose the conviction of the personality of God is +reached?"</p> + +<p>"All nonsense," said the rector, as he went home, striking out with +his cane at the stalks of golden-rod standing stiff with frost at the +roadside. "I shall tell Gifford he ought to know better than to have +these discussions with her. Women don't understand such things; they go +off at half cock, and think themselves skeptics. All nonsense!"</p> + +<p>But the rector need not have felt any immediate anxiety about his niece. +As yet such questions were only a sort of intellectual exercise; the time +had not come when they should be intensely real, and she should seek for +an answer with all the force of her life, and know the anguish of despair +which comes when a soul feels itself adrift upon a sea of unbelief. They +were not of enough importance to talk of to John, even if she had not +known they would trouble him; she and Gifford had merely spoken of them +as speculations of general interest; yet all the while they were shaping +and moulding her mind for the future.</p> + +<p>But the letter brought a cloud on Dr. Howe's face; he wanted to forget +it, he was impatient to shake off the unpleasant remembrances it roused, +and so engaged was he in this that by the time he had reached the rectory +Mr. Denner and his perplexities were quite out of his mind, though the +lawyer's face was still tingling with mortification.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner could not keep his thoughts from his puzzle. Supper-time came, +and he was still struggling to reach a conclusion. He carved the cold +mutton with more than usual precision, and ate it in anxious abstraction. +The room was chilly; draughts from the narrow windows made the lamp +flare, and the wind from under the closed door raised the carpet in +swells along the floor. He did not notice Willie, who kept his hands in +his pockets for warmth, and also because he had nothing for them to do.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Denner rang for Mary, the boy said with anxious politeness, +"Was—was the mutton good, sir?"</p> + +<p>Willie had been well brought up,—he was not to speak unless spoken to; +but under the press of hunger nature rebelled, for his uncle, in his +absorption, had forgotten to help him to anything.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner carved some meat for the child, and then sat and watched him +with such gloomy eyes, that Willie was glad to finish and push his chair +back for prayers.</p> + +<p>The table was cleared, and then Mary put the Bible in front of Mr. +Denner, and Jay's "Morning and Evening Exercises," open at the proper +day. Two candles in massive candlesticks on either side of his book gave +an unsteady light, and when they flickered threw strange shadows on the +ceiling. The frames which held the paintings of Mr. Denner's grandparents +loomed up dark and forbidding, and Mary, who always sat with her arms +rolled in her apron and her head bowed upon her ample breast, made a +grotesque shadow, which danced and bobbed about on the door of the +pantry. Mary generally slept through prayers, while for Willie it was +a time of nervous dread. The room was so dark, and his uncle's voice so +strange and rolling, the little fellow feared to kneel down and turn his +back to the long table with its ghastly white cloth; his imagination +pictured fearful things stealing upon him from the mysterious space +beneath it, and his heart beat so he could scarcely hear the words of the +prayer. But Mr. Denner enjoyed it. Not, however, because prayer was the +expression of his soul; family prayer was merely a dignified and proper +observance. Mr. Denner would not; have omitted it any more than he would +have neglected Sunday morning service; but he was scarcely more aware of +the words than Willie or Mary were. It was the reading which gave Mr. +Denner so much pleasure.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the cases he had never pleaded, the dramatic force which he +secretly longed to exert, expended themselves in the sonorous chapters +of Isaiah or in the wail of Jeremiah. Indeed, the thought had more than +once occurred to Mr. Denner that the rector, who read the service with +cheerful haste, might improve in his own delivery, could he listen to the +eloquence under which Mary and little Willie sat every evening.</p> + +<p>To-night it was the victory of Jephtha. The reading proceeded as usual: +Mary slumbered tranquilly at her end of the room; Willie counted the +number of panes of glass in the window opposite him, and wondered what +he should do if suddenly a white face should peer in at him out of the +darkness; Mr. Denner had reached the vow that whatsoever should first +meet Jephtha,—when, with his hand extended, his eyebrows drawn together, +and his whole attitude expressing the anxiety and fear of the conqueror, +he stopped abruptly. Here was an inspiration!</p> + +<p>Mary woke with a start. "Is it a stroke?" she exclaimed. But Willie, with +one frightened look at the window and the long table, slipped from his +chair to kneel, thinking the reading was over. The sound of his little +copper-toed boots upon the floor aroused Mr. Denner; he frowned +portentously. "<i>So Jephtha passed over unto the children of Ammon</i>," +he read on, "<i>to fight against them, and the Lord delivered them into +his hands</i>."</p> + +<p>When prayers were ended, however, and he was sitting in his library +alone, he said with a subdued glee, "That is the way to do it,—the one +I see first!" And Mr. Denner went to bed with a quiet mind, and the peace +which follows the decision of a momentous question.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>The cold that winter was more persistent and severe in the mountains than +down in Ashurst.</p> + +<p>At Lockhaven the river had been frozen over for a month, even above the +bridge and the mills, where the current was swiftest. Long lines of +sawdust, which had been coiling and whirling in the eddies, or stretching +across the black seething water, were caught in the ice, or blown about +with the powdered snow over its surface.</p> + +<p>Rafts could not come down the river, so the mills had no work to do, for +the logs on hand at the beginning of the cold snap had been sawed into +long rough planks, and piled in the lumber-yards, ready to be rafted as +soon as the thaw came. The cold, still air was sweet with the fragrance +of fresh pine boards, and the ground about the mills was covered with +sawdust, so that footsteps fell as silently as though on velvet, instead +of ringing sharp against the frozen ground.</p> + +<p>John Ward, walking wearily home from a long visit to a sick woman, came, +as he crossed the lumber-yards, upon a group of raftsmen; they had not +heard his approach, and were talking loudly, with frequent bursts of +drunken laughter.</p> + +<p>It was towards evening; the sky had been threatening all day, and when +the clouds lifted suddenly in the west, blown aside like tumultuous folds +of a gray curtain, the red sun sent a flood of color across the wintry +landscape; the bare branches of the trees were touched with light, and +the pools of black, clear ice gleamed with frosty fire. John's face had +caught the radiance.</p> + +<p>He had come up to the men so silently that he had been standing beside +them a moment before they noticed him, and then Tom Davis, with a start +of drunken fear, tried to hide the bottle which he held.</p> + +<p>"Damn you, mate, you're spillin' it!" cried one of the others, making an +unsteady lunge forward to seize the bottle.</p> + +<p>"Let up, let up," said Tom thickly. "Don't ye see the preacher?" Though +Davis was not one of his flock, he had the same reverence for the +preacher which his congregation felt. All Lockhaven loved and feared John +Ward.</p> + +<p>John had not spoken, even though a little boy, building block houses on a +heap of sawdust near the men, had come up and taken his hand with a look +of confident affection.</p> + +<p>The man who had saved the whiskey stumbled to his feet, and leaning +against a pile of lumber stood open-mouthed, waiting for the preacher's +rebuke; but Davis hung his head, and began to fumble for a pipe in his +sagging coat pocket; with clumsy fingers, scattering the tobacco from his +little bag, he tried to fill it.</p> + +<p>"Tom," the preacher said, at last, "I want you to come home with me, now. +And Jim, you will give me that bottle."</p> + +<p>"I can't go home, preacher. I've got to buy some things. She said I was +to buy some things for the brats."</p> + +<p>"Have you bought them?" John asked. Tom gave a silly laugh.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, preacher, not yet."</p> + +<p>"Listen, men," John said, with sudden sternness. "You have let this child +see you on the road to hell. If he can remember this sight, it will save +his soul."</p> + +<p>Tom Davis shrank as the preacher said "hell." He gave a maudlin cry, and +almost whimpered, "No, sir, no, preacher, I am a-goin' to reform." John +had known what note to touch in this debased nature. Not love, nor hope, +nor shame, would move Tom Davis, but fear stung him into a semblance of +sobriety. "I'll come along wi' you," he went on, swaying back and forth, +and steadying himself with a hand on the lumber against which he had been +leaning. "This is the last time, preacher. You won't see me this way no +more."</p> + +<p>Here he hiccoughed, and then laughed, but remembering himself instantly, +drew his forehead into a scowl.</p> + +<p>The other men slunk away, for the minister had taken the bottle, and Tom +Davis was following him through the narrow passages between the great +piles of boards, towards his house.</p> + +<p>The boy had gone back to his block house; the pile of sawdust in the +sheltered corner was more comfortable and not more cheerless than his own +home.</p> + +<p>John left Davis at his door. The man looked cowed, but there was no shame +in his face, and no sense of sin. It was unpleasant to be caught by the +preacher, and he was frightened by that awful word, which it was the +constant effort of his numb, helpless brain to forget.</p> + +<p>John went on alone. He walked slowly, with his eyes fixed absently on the +ground, thinking. "Poor Davis," he said, "poor fellow!" The man's future +seemed quite hopeless to the preacher, and, thinking of it, he recalled +Mrs. Davis's regret that he had not spoken of hell in his sermon.</p> + +<p>John sighed. His grief at Helen's unbelief was growing in his silence; +yet he realized the inconsistency of his love in hiding his sorrow from +her.</p> + +<p>"It is robbing her, not to let her share it," he thought, "but I dare not +speak to her yet."</p> + +<p>More than once during the winter he had tried to show her the truth and +the beauty of various doctrines, generally that of reprobation, but she +had always evaded discussion; sometimes lightly, for it seemed such a +small matter to her, but always firmly.</p> + +<p>The preacher loitered, stopping to look at the river and the gaunt line +of mills against the sky. He left the path, and went down to the edge of +the white ice, so full of air bubbles, it seemed like solid snow, and +listened to the gurgle of the hurrying water underneath.</p> + +<p>A shed was built close to the stream, to shelter a hand fire-engine. It +had not been used for so long that the row of buckets beside it, which +were for dipping up water to fill it, were warped and cracked, their iron +bands rusty, and out of one or two the bottom had fallen. The door of the +shed creaked on its one hinge, and John looked up surprised to see how +dark it had grown, then he turned towards home.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said to himself, "I must show her her danger. It will grieve +her to force an argument upon her, and I don't think she has had one +unhappy hour since we were married; but even if it were not for her own +soul's sake, I must not let my people starve for the bread of life, to +spare her. I must not be silent concerning the danger of the sinner. But +it will trouble her,—it will trouble her."</p> + +<p>John had dallied with temptation so long, that it had grown bold, and did +not always hide under the plea of wisdom, but openly dared him to inflict +the pain of grieving his wife upon himself. He still delayed, yet there +were moments when he knew himself a coward, and had to summon every +argument of the past to his defense. But before he reached the parsonage +door he had lapsed into such tender thoughts of Helen that he said again, +"Not quite yet; it seems to annoy her so to argue upon such things. I +must leave it until I win her to truth by the force of its own +constraining beauty. Little by little I will draw her attention to it. +And I must gradually make my sermons more emphatic."</p> + +<p>Helen met him at the door, and drew him into the house. "You are so +late," she said, pressing his chill fingers against her warm cheek, and +chafing them between her hands.</p> + +<p>He stopped to kiss her before he took his coat off, smiling at her +happiness and his own.</p> + +<p>"How raw and cold it is!" she said. "Come into the study; I have a +beautiful fire for you. Is it going to snow, do you think? How is your +sick woman?"</p> + +<p>"Better," he answered, as he followed her into the room. "Oh, Helen, it +is good to be at home. I have not seen you since noon."</p> + +<p>She laughed, and then insisted that he should sit still, and let her +bring his supper into the study, and eat it there by the fire. He watched +her with a delicious luxury of rest and content; for he was very tired +and very happy.</p> + +<p>She put a little table beside him, covered with a large napkin; and then +she brought a loaf of brown bread and some honey, with a mould of yellow +butter, and last a little covered dish of chicken.</p> + +<p>"I broiled that for you myself," she explained proudly; "and I did not +mean to give you coffee, but what do you think?—the whole canister of +tea has disappeared. When Alfaretta went to get it for my supper, it had +gone."</p> + +<p>"Oh," John said, smiling, while Helen began to pour some cream into his +coffee from a flat little silver jug, "I forgot to mention it: the fact +is, I took that tea with me this afternoon,—I thought probably they had +none in the house; and I wish you could have seen the woman's joy at the +sight of it. I cooked some for her,—she told me how," he said +deprecatingly, for Helen laughed; "and she said it was very good, too," +he added.</p> + +<p>But Helen refused to believe that possible. "It was politeness, John," +she cried gayly, "and because, I suppose, you presented her with my +lacquered canister."</p> + +<p>"I did leave it," John admitted; "I never thought of it." But he forgot +even to ask forgiveness, as she bent towards him, resting her hand on +his shoulder while she put his cup beside him.</p> + +<p>"The fire has flushed your cheek," he said, touching it softly, the +lover's awe shining in his eyes; with John it had never been lost in the +assured possession of the husband. Helen looked at him, smiling a little, +but she did not speak. Silence with her told sometimes more than words.</p> + +<p>"It has been such a long afternoon," he said. "I was glad to hurry home; +perhaps that is the reason I forgot the canister."</p> + +<p>"Shall I send you back for it?" She put her lips for a moment against his +hand, and then, glancing out at the night for sheer joy at the warmth and +light within, she added, "Why, what is that glow, John? It looks like +fire."</p> + +<p>He turned, and then pushed back his chair and went to the window.</p> + +<p>"It does look like fire," he said anxiously.</p> + +<p>Helen had followed him, and they watched together a strange light, rising +and falling, and then brightening again all along the sky. Even as they +looked the upper heavens began to pulsate and throb with faint crimson.</p> + +<p>"It is fire!" John exclaimed. "Let me get my coat. I must go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not now," Helen said. "You must finish your supper; and you are so +tired, John!"</p> + +<p>But he was already at the door and reaching for his hat.</p> + +<p>"It must be the lumber-yards, and the river is frozen!"</p> + +<p>"Wait!" Helen cried. "Let me get my cloak. I will go if you do," and a +moment later the parsonage door banged behind them, and they hurried out +into the darkness.</p> + +<p>The street which led to the lumber-yards had been silent and deserted +when John passed through it half an hour before, but now all Lockhaven +seemed to throng it.</p> + +<p>The preacher and his wife could hear the snapping and crackling of flames +even before they turned the last corner and saw the blaze, which, +sweeping up into the cold air, began to mutter before it broke with a +savage roar. They caught sight of Gifford's broad shoulders in the crowd, +which stood, fascinated and appalled, watching the destruction of what to +most of them meant work and wages.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Giff!" Helen said when they reached his side, "why don't they do +something? Have they tried to put it out?"</p> + +<p>"It's no use to try now," Gifford answered. "They didn't discover it in +time. It has made such headway, that the only thing to do is to see that +it burns out, without setting fire to any of the houses. Fortunately the +wind is towards the river."</p> + +<p>John shook his head; he was too breathless to speak for a moment; then he +said, "Something must be done."</p> + +<p>"There is no use, Mr. Ward," Gifford explained. But John scarcely heard +him; his people's comfort, their morality almost,—for poverty meant +deeper sin to most of them,—was burning up in those great square piles +of planks.</p> + +<p>"Men," he shouted, "men, the engine! To the river! Run! run!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing can be done," Gifford said, as the crowd broke, following the +preacher, who was far ahead of all; but he too started, as though to join +them, and then checked himself, and went back into the deserted street, +walking up and down, a self-constituted patrol.</p> + +<p>Almost every man had gone to the river. Tom Davis, however, with Molly +beside him, stood lolling against a tree, sobered, indeed, by the shock +of the fire, but scarcely steady enough on his legs to run. Another, who +was a cripple, swaying to and fro on his crutches with excitement, broke +into a storm of oaths because his companion did not do the work for which +he was himself too helpless. But Tom only gazed with bleared eyes at the +fire, and tried to stand up straight.</p> + +<p>The little crowd of women about Helen had been silenced at first by the +tumult and glare, but now broke into wild lamentations, and entreaties +that Heaven would send the engine soon, wringing their hands, and +sobbing, and frightening the children that clung about their skirts even +more than the fire itself.</p> + +<p>"How did it start?" Helen said, turning to the woman next to her, who, +shivering with excitement, held a baby in her arms, who gazed at the fire +with wide, tranquil eyes, as though it had been gotten up for his +entertainment.</p> + +<p>"They say," answered the woman, tossing her head in the direction of Tom +Davis,—"they say him and some other fellows was in 'mong the lumber this +afternoon, drinkin', you know, and smokin'. Most likely a match dropped, +or ashes from their pipes. Drunken men ain't reasonable about them +things," she added, with the simplicity of experience. "They don't stop +to think they're burnin' up money, an' whiskey too; for Dobbs don't trust +'em, now the mill is shut down."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said another woman who stood by, "them men! what do they care? +You," she shouted, shaking her fist at Tom,—"you'll starve us all, will +ye? an' your poor wife, just up from her sick bed! I do' know as she'll +be much worse off, though, when he is out of work," she added, turning to +Helen—"fer every blessed copper he has goes to the saloon."</p> + +<p>"Yer man's as bad as me," Tom protested, stung by her taunts and the +jeers of the cripple.</p> + +<p>"An' who is it as leads him on?" screamed the woman. "An' if he does take +a drop sometimes, it wasn't him as was in the lumber-yard this afternoon, +a-settin' fire to the boards, an' burnin' up the food and comfort o' the +whole town!"</p> + +<p>Tom hurled a torrent of profanity at the woman and the cripple +collectively, and then stumbled towards the road with the crowd, for the +fire was approaching the side of the yard where they stood, and beating +them back into the village street.</p> + +<p>The air was filled with the appalling roar and scream of the flames; +showers of sparks were flung up against the black sky, as with a +tremendous crash the inside of one of the piles would collapse; and +still the engine did not come.</p> + +<p>"Hurry! hurry!" the women shouted with hoarse, terrified voices, and some +ran to the edge of the bluff and looked down at the river.</p> + +<p>The men were hurrying; but as they drew the long-unused engine from its +shed, an axle broke, and with stiff fingers they tried to mend it. Some +had had to run for axes to break the ice, and then they pushed and +jostled each other about the square hole they had cut, to dip up the +dark, swift water underneath; and all the while the sky behind them grew +a fiercer red, and the very ice glared with the leaping flames. At last, +pulling and pushing, they brought the little engine up the slope, and +then with a great shout dragged it into the outskirts of the yard. They +pumped furiously, and a small jet of water was played upon the nearest +pile of boards. A hissing cloud of steam almost hid the volunteer +firemen, but the flames leaped and tossed against the sky, and the sparks +were sucked up into the cold air, and whirled in sheets across the river.</p> + +<p>John Ward came breathlessly towards his wife. "Are you all right, Helen? +You seemed too near; come back a little further." Then, suddenly seeing +the woman beside her with the baby in her arms, he stopped, and looked +about. "Where's your boy, Mrs. Nevins?" he said. The woman glanced around +her.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm not just sure, preacher."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen him since six o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"No—I—I ain't," the woman answered. There was something in John's face +which terrified her, though the mere absence of her son gave her no +uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Go back, Helen," he said, quickly,—"go as far as that second house, +or I shall not feel sure you are safe. Mrs. Nevins, we must look for +Charley. I am afraid—he was in the lumber-yard this afternoon"—</p> + +<p>John did not wait to hear the woman's shriek; he turned and ran from +group to group, looking for the boy whom he had seen building block +houses on the pile of sawdust; but the mother, pushing her baby into +a neighbor's arms, ran up and down like a mad woman.</p> + +<p>"My boy!" she cried; "Charley! Charley! He's in the fire,—my boy's in +the fire!"</p> + +<p>Tom Davis had heard the hurried words of the preacher, and the mother's +cries roused all the manhood drink had left. He hesitated a moment, and +then pushing Molly towards the cripple whose taunts still rung in his +ears, "Take care of the brat!" he said, and pulling off his coat, which +he wrapped about his head to guard himself from the falling boards, he +stooped almost double, and with his left arm bent before his face, and +his right extended to feel his way, he ran towards the fire, and +disappeared in the blinding smoke.</p> + +<p>Even Mrs. Nevins was silenced for a moment of shuddering suspense; and +when she tossed her arms into the air again, and shrieked, it was because +John Ward came towards her with Charley trotting at his side.</p> + +<p>"You should have looked after the child," the preacher said sternly. "I +found him on the other side of the yard, near the fire-engine."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Nevins caught the boy in her arms in a paroxysm of rage and joy; and +then she thought of Tom.</p> + +<p>"Oh, preacher," she cried, "preacher! he's run in after him, Tom Davis +has!"</p> + +<p>"<i>There?</i>" John said, pointing to the fire. "God help him!"</p> + +<p>There was no human help possible. Tom had run down between two long piles +of boards, not yet in flames, but already a sheet of fire swept madly +across the open space. They could only look at each other, dumb with +their own helplessness, and wait. How long this horror of expectation +lasted no one knew, but at last, as if from the very mouth of hell, Tom +Davis came, staggering and swaying,—his singed coat still rolled about +his head, and his hands stretched blindly out.</p> + +<p>John Ward ran towards him, and even the cripple pressed forward to take +his hand. But with unseeing eyes he stood a moment, and then fell forward +on his face. They lifted him, and carried him back into the street, away +from the glare of light; there were plenty of kindly hands and pitying +words, for most of the crowd had gathered about him; even the men who had +brought the engine followed, for their efforts to subdue the fire were +perfectly futile.</p> + +<p>They laid him down on the stiff frozen grass by the roadside; but Molly +clung so tightly about his neck, that the preacher could scarcely move +her to put his hand upon Tom's heart; Helen lifted the little girl, and +laid her own wet cheek against the child's.</p> + +<p>The group of men and women stood awed and silent about the prostrate +form, waiting for John to raise his head from the broad, still breast; +when he lifted it, they knew all was over.</p> + +<p>Whether the shock of the heat and tumult, coming upon the stupor of +intoxication, and paralyzing the action of the heart, or whether a blow +from a burning plank, had killed him, no one could know. The poor sodden, +bloated body was suddenly invested with the dignity of death; and how +death had come was for a little while a secondary thought.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," John said. "He has died like a brave man!"</p> + +<p>He stood looking down at the body for some moments, and no one spoke. +Then, as there was a stir among those who stood near, and some one +whispered that Mrs. Davis must be told, the preacher looked away from +the dead man's face.</p> + +<p>"Poor soul," he said, "poor soul!"</p> + +<p>A few light flakes of snow were beginning to fall in that still, +uncertain way which heralds a storm; some touched the dead face with pure +white fingers, as though they would hide the degraded body from any eyes +less kind than God's.</p> + +<p>Helen, who had gone further back into the street that Molly might not +look again at her father, came to John's side.</p> + +<p>"I will take Molly home with me," she said; "tell Mrs. Davis where she +is."</p> + +<p>"Gifford is here to go with you?" John asked, with that quick tenderness +which never left him. Then he turned away to help in carrying the dead +man to his home.</p> + +<p>The silent procession, with its awful burden, went back through the +streets, lighted yet by the pulsing glare of the fire. John walked beside +the still figure with his head bent upon his breast. That first impulse +of human exultation in a brave deed was gone; there was a horror of pity +instead. Just before they reached Tom's home, he stopped, by a gesture, +the men who bore the body.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my people," he said, his hands stretched out to them, the snow +falling softly on his bared head, "God speaks to you from the lips of +this dead man. Listen to his words: the day or the hour knoweth no man; +and are you ready to face the judgment-seat of Christ? Oh, be not +deceived, be not deceived! Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also +reap."</p> + +<p>It was long past midnight when the knot of men about Tom Davis's door +dispersed; the excitement of the fire faded before that frank interest in +death, which such people have no hesitation in expressing. Society veils +it with decent reserve, and calls it morbid and vulgar, yet it is +ineradicably human, and circumstances alone decide whether it shall be +confessed.</p> + +<p>But when the preacher came out of the house, all was quiet and deserted. +The snow, driving in white sheets down the mountains, was tinged with a +faint glow, where, in a blinding mist it whirled across the yards; it had +come too late to save the lumber, but it had checked and deadened the +flames, so that the few unburned planks only smouldered slowly into +ashes.</p> + +<p>John had told Mrs. Davis of her loss with that wonderful gentleness which +characterized all his dealings with sorrow. He found her trying to quiet +her baby, when he went in, leaving outside in the softly falling snow +that ghastly burden which the men bore. She looked up with startled, +questioning eyes as he entered. He took the child out of her arms, and +hushed it upon his breast, and then, with one of her shaking hands held +firm in his, he told her.</p> + +<p>Afterwards, it seemed to her that the sorrow in his face had told her, +and that she knew his message before he spoke.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis had not broken into loud weeping when she heard her husband's +fate, and she was very calm, when John saw her again, after all had been +done which was needful for the dead; only moving nervously about, trying +to put the room into an unusual order. John could not bear to leave her; +knowing what love is, his sympathy for her grief was almost grief itself; +yet he had said all that he could say to comfort her, all that he could +of Tom's bravery in rushing into the fire, and it seemed useless to stay. +But as he rose to go, putting the child, who had fallen asleep in his +arms, down on the bed, Mrs. Davis stopped him.</p> + +<p>She stood straightening the sheet which covered Tom's face, creasing its +folds between her fingers, and pulling it a little on this side or that.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ward," she said, "he was drunk, Tom was."</p> + +<p>"I know it," he answered gently.</p> + +<p>"He went out with some money this forenoon," she went on; "he was to buy +some things for the young ones. He didn't mean to drink; he didn't mean +to go near the saloon. I <i>know</i> it. Mrs. Shea, she came in a bit after he +went, and she said she seen him comin' out of the saloon, drunk. But he +didn't mean it. Then you brought him home. But, bein' started, preacher, +he could not help it, an' he'd been round to Dobbs's again, 'fore he seen +the fire."</p> + +<p>"Yes," John said.</p> + +<p>Still smoothing the straight whiteness of the sheet, she said, with a +tremor in her voice:—</p> + +<p>"If he didn't want to, preacher—if he didn't mean to—perhaps it wasn't +a sin? and him dying in it!"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke, and she knelt down and hid her face in the dead man's +breast. She did not think of him now as the man that beat her when he was +drunk, and starved the children; he was the young lover again. The dull, +brutal man and the fretful, faded woman had been boy and girl once, and +had had their little romance, like happier husbands and wives.</p> + +<p>John did not answer her, but a mist of tears gathered in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis raised her head and looked at him. "Tell me, you don't think +it will be counted a sin to him, do you? You don't think he died in sin?" +she asked almost fiercely.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could say I did not," he answered.</p> + +<p>She threw her hands up over her head with a shrill cry.</p> + +<p>"You don't think he's lost? Say you don't, preacher,—say you don't!"</p> + +<p>John took her hands in his. "Try and think," he said gently, "how brave +Tom was, how nobly he faced death to save Charley. Leave the judgments +of God to God; they are not for us to think of."</p> + +<p>But she would not be put off in that way. Too weak to kneel, she had sunk +upon the floor, leaning still against the bed, with one thin, gaunt arm +thrown across her husband's body.</p> + +<p>"You think," she demanded, "that my Tom's lost because he was drunk +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I do not think that, Mrs. Davis."</p> + +<p>"Is he saved?" she cried, her voice shrill with eagerness.</p> + +<p>John was silent. She clutched his arm with her thin fingers, and shook it +in her excitement; her pinched, terrified face was close to his.</p> + +<p>"He wasn't never converted,—I know that,—but would the Lord have cut +him off, sudden-like, in his sin, if He wasn't goin' to save him?"</p> + +<p>"We can only trust his wisdom and his goodness."</p> + +<p>"But you think he was cut off in his sins—you think—my Tom's lost!"</p> + +<p>The preacher did not speak, but the passionate pity in his eyes told her. +She put her hands up to her throat as though she were suffocating, and +her face grew ghastly.</p> + +<p>"Remember, God knows what is best for his children," John said. "He +sends this grief of Tom's death to you in his infinite wisdom. He loves +you,—He knows best."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," asked the woman slowly, "that it was best fer Tom he +should die?"</p> + +<p>"I mean this sorrow may be best for you," he answered tenderly. "God +knows what you need. He sends sorrow to draw our souls nearer to Him."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she exclaimed, her voice broken and hoarse, "I don't want no good +fer me, if Tom has to die fer it. An' why should He love me instead o' +Tom? Oh, I don't want his love, as wouldn't give Tom another chance! He +might 'a' been converted this next revival, fer you would 'a' preached +hell,—I know you would, then. No, I don't want no good as comes that +way. Oh, preacher, you ain't going to say you think my Tom's burning in +hell this night, and me living to be made better by it? Oh, no, no, no!" +She crawled to his feet, and clasped his knees with her shaking arms. +"Say he isn't,—say he isn't!"</p> + +<p>But the presence of that dead man asserted the hopelessness of John's +creed; no human pity could dim his faith, and he had no words of comfort +for the distracted woman who clung to him. He could only lift her and try +to soothe her, but she did not seem to hear him until he put her baby in +her arms; at the touch of its little soft face against her drawn cheek, +she trembled violently, and then came the merciful relief of tears. She +did not ask the preacher again to say that her husband was not lost; she +had no hope that he would tell her anything but what she already knew. +"The soul that sinneth, it shall die." She tried, poor thing, to find +some comfort in the words he spoke of God's love for her; listening with +a pathetic silence which wrung his heart.</p> + +<p>When John left her, beating his way home through the blinding snow, his +face was as haggard as her own. He could not escape from the ultimate +conclusion of his creed,—"He that believeth not shall be damned." Yet he +loved and trusted completely. His confidence in God's justice could not +be shaken; but it was with almost a groan that he said, "O my God, my +God, justice and judgment are the habitation of thy throne; mercy and +truth shall go before thy face! But justice with mercy,—justice first!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>The snow fell all that night, but the day broke exquisitely clear upon a +white and shining world. The sky was blue and sparkling, and the keen +north wind had carved the drifts into wonderful overhanging curves, like +the curling crests of breakers.</p> + +<p>John Ward went early to Mrs. Davis's. The sharp agony of the night before +was over; there was even a momentary complacency at the importance of +death, for the room was full of neighbors, whose noisy sympathy drove her +despair of her husband's fate from her mind. But when she saw John, her +terror came back, and she began to be silent, and not so ready to tell +the story of the dead man's bravery to each one that entered. But with +the people who were not immediately affected, the excitement of Tom's +death could scarcely last.</p> + +<p>By the afternoon his widow was for the most part alone. Helen had thought +it would be so, and waited until then to go and see her. But first she +went into her kitchen, and she and Alfaretta packed a little basket with +cold meat, and sweet, snowy bread, and some jam, for the children.</p> + +<p>"They do say," Alfaretta said, as she tucked the corners of the napkin +under the wicker cover,—"they do say Tom Davis went straight to the bad +place, last night. He wasn't never converted, you know; but somehow, +seein' as he really thought he was going to save that Charley, seein' as +he died for him, as you might say, it don't seem like as if it was +just"—Alfaretta lowered her voice a little—"as if it was just—fair. Do +you think he went there, Mrs. Ward?"</p> + +<p>"I know he did not," Helen answered promptly. "I don't think about hell +quite as you do, Alfaretta. I cannot believe God punishes people +eternally; for if He is good, He could not be so cruel. Why, no human +being would be so cruel as that, and do you think we ought to believe +that men are better and kinder than God?"</p> + +<p>Alfaretta looked confused. "Well, but justice?"</p> + +<p>"Justice!" Helen said. "Would it be just if I put a little child where it +was certain to fall down, and then punish it for falling? The child did +not ask to be put there. So God puts us here, where we must sin; would it +be just to punish us eternally for his own work?"</p> + +<p>Alfaretta shook her head, and sighed. "Well, I don't know but yer right, +though the preacher don't say so."</p> + +<p>Helen did not speak for a moment, and then said quietly, "Perhaps +not,—not yet; but he will say so some day. He is so good himself, you +know, Alfaretta, he cannot bear to think every one else does not love and +serve God, too; and it seems to him as though they ought to be punished +if they don't."</p> + +<p>This was a very lame explanation, but it closed the discussion, and she +hurried away from the honest, searching eyes of her servant, which she +felt must see through the flimsy excuse. Her eyes burned with sudden +tears that blurred the white landscape, it hurt her to excuse her +husband's belief even to herself, and gave her a feeling of disloyalty to +him: for a moment she weakly longed to creep into the shelter of the +monstrous error in which she felt he lived, that they might be one there, +as in everything else. "Yet it does not matter," she said to herself, +smiling a little. "We love each other. We know we don't think alike on +doctrinal points, but we love each other."</p> + +<p>She stopped a moment at the lumber-yard. The ghastly blackness of the +ruin glared against the snow-covered hills and the dazzling blue of the +sky; here and there a puff of steam showed where the melting snow on the +cooler beams dripped on the hot embers below. Some scattered groups of +lumbermen and their forlorn wives braved the cold, and stood talking the +fire over, for, after all, it was the immediate interest; death would not +come to them for years, perhaps, but where were they going to get money +for their families during the spring? There could be no rafting down the +river until after the loggers had brought their rafts from up in the +mountains, to be sawed into planks.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta's father, who stood contemplating the ruins, and moralizing +when any one would stop to listen to him, had pointed this out. Mr. Dean +was a carpenter, and kept a grocery store as well, so he could pity the +lumbermen from the shelter of comparative affluence. When he saw the +preacher's wife, he came over to speak to her.</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am," he said, "the dispensations of Providence is indeed +mysterious,—that the river should have been froze last night!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean had a habit of holding his mouth open a moment before he spoke, +and looking as though he felt that his listener was impatient for his +words, which were always pronounced with great deliberation. Helen had +very little patience with him, and used to answer his slowly uttered +remarks with a quickness which confused him.</p> + +<p>"It would be more mysterious if it were not frozen, at this time of +year," she replied, almost before he had finished speaking. She was in +haste to reach Mrs. Davis, and she had no time to hear Elder Dean's +platitudes.</p> + +<p>He began to open his beak-like mouth in an astonished way, when a +by-stander interrupted him: "I suppose this here sudden death in our +midst" (it was easy to fall into pious phraseology in the presence of +Elder Dean) "will be made the subject of the prayer-meeting to-night?"</p> + +<p>"It will," said Mr. Dean solemnly,—"it will. It is an awful example to +unbelievers. An' it is a lesson to the owners not to allow smoking in the +yards." Then, with a sharp look at Helen out of his narrow eyes, he +added, "I haven't seen you at prayer-meeting, lately, Mrs. Ward. It is a +blessed place, a blessed place: the Lord touches sinners' hearts with a +live coal from off his altar; souls have been taught to walk in the +light, in the light of God." Mr. Dean prolonged the last word in an +unctuous way, which he reserved for public prayer and admonition.</p> + +<p>Helen did not answer.</p> + +<p>But the elder was not rebuffed. "I hope we will see you soon," he said. +"A solemn season of revival is approaching. Why have you stayed away so +long, Mrs. Ward?"</p> + +<p>Annoyed at the impertinence of his questions, Helen's face flushed a +little.</p> + +<p>"I do not like the prayer-meeting," she answered quietly; but before the +elder could recover from the shock of such a statement, Mrs. Nevins had +come up to speak to him.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Mrs. Davis yet, Mr. Dean?" she said. "She took on awful, +last night; the neighbors heard her. 'T was after twelve 'fore she was +quiet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw her," responded the elder, shaking his head in a pompous way. +"I went to administer consolation. I'm just coming from there now. It is +an awful judgment on that man: no chance for repentance, overtook by +hell, as I told Mrs. Davis, in a moment! But the Lord must be praised for +his justice: that ought to comfort her."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" cried Helen, "you did not tell that poor woman her +husband was overtaken by hell?"</p> + +<p>"Ma'am," said Mr. Dean, fairly stuttering with astonishment at the +condemnation of her tone—"I—I—did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, shame!" Helen said, heedless of the listeners around them. "How +dared you say such a thing? How dared you libel the goodness of God? +Tom Davis is not in hell. A man who died to save another's life? Who +would want the heaven of such a God? Oh, that poor wife! How could you +have had the heart to make her think God was so cruel?"</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence; Elder Dean was too dumfounded to speak, and the +others, looking at Helen's eyes flashing through her tears of passionate +pain, were almost persuaded that she was right. They waited to hear more, +but she turned and hurried away, her breath quick, and a tightened +feeling in her throat.</p> + +<p>The elder was the first to break the spell of her words, but he opened +his lips twice before a sound came. "May the Lord forgive her! Tom Davis +not in hell? Why, where's the good of a hell at all, then?"</p> + +<p>Helen's heart was burning with sympathy for the sorrow which had been so +cruelly wounded. She had forgotten the reserve which respect for her +husband's opinions always enforced. "It is wicked to have said such a +thing!" she thought, as she walked rapidly along over the creaking snow. +"I will tell her it is not true,—it never could be true."</p> + +<p>The path through the ragged, unkempt garden in front of the tenement +house was so trodden that the snow was packed and hard. The gate swung +back with a jar and clatter, and two limp frosted hens flew shrieking out +from the shelter of the ash-heap behind it. The door was open, and Helen +could see the square of the entry, papered, where the plaster had not +been broken away, with pale green castles embowered in livid trees. On +either side was the entrance to a tenement; a sagging nail in one of the +door-posts held a coat and a singed and battered hat. Here Helen knocked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis was in the small inner room, but came out as her visitor +entered, wiping the soapsuds from her bare arms on her dingy gingham +apron. On the other side of the room, opposite the door, was that awful +Presence, which silenced even the voices of the children.</p> + +<p>"I'm washing," the woman said, as she gave her hand to Helen. "It is +Tom's best shirt,—fer to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Helen took the hand, wrinkled and bleached with the work it had done, and +stroked it gently; she did not know what to say. This was not the grief +she had thought of,—a woman working calmly at her wash-tub, while her +husband lay dead in the next room. Helen could see the tub, with the mist +of steam about it, and the wash-board, and the bar of yellow soap.</p> + +<p>She followed Mrs. Davis back to her work, and sat down on a bench, out of +the way of a little stream of water which had dripped from the leaking +tub, and trickled across the floor. She asked about the children, and +said she had brought some food for them; she knew it was so hard to have +to think of housekeeping at such a time.</p> + +<p>But the widow scarcely listened; she stood lifting the shirt from the +water, and rubbing it gently between her hard hands, then dipping it back +into the suds again. Once she stopped, and drew the back of her wet hand +across her eyes, and once Helen heard her sigh; yet she did not speak of +her sorrow, nor of Elder Dean's cruel words. For a little while the two +women were silent.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Davis," Helen said, at last, "I'm so sorry."</p> + +<p>It was a very simple thing to say, but it caught the woman's ear; it was +different from any of the sympathy to which, in a dull, hopeless way, she +had listened all that morning. The neighbors had sighed and groaned, and +told her it was "awful hard on her," and had pitied Tom for his terrible +death; and then Mr. Dean had come, with fearful talk of justice, and of +hell.</p> + +<p>A big tear rolled down her face, and dropped into the tub. "Thank you, +ma'am," she said.</p> + +<p>She made a pretense of turning towards the light of the one small window +to see if the shirt was quite clean; then she began to wring it out, +wrapping the twist of wet linen about her wrist. When she spoke again, +her voice was steady.</p> + +<p>"Elder Dean 'lows I oughtn't to be sorry; he says I'd ought to be +resigned to God's justice. He says good folks ought to be glad when +sinners go to the bad place, even if they're belonging to them. He 'lows +I'd oughtn't to be sorry."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you have a right to be sorry Tom is dead," Helen said,—the +woman's composure made her calm, too,—"but I do not believe he is in any +place now that need make you sorry. I do not believe what Elder Dean said +about—hell."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis looked at her, a faint surprise dawning in her tired eyes, and +shook her head. "Oh, I'm not sayin' that he ain't right. I'm not sayin' +Tom ain't in the bad place, ner that it ain't justice. I'm a Christian +woman. I was convicted and converted when I wasn't but twelve years old, +and I know my religion. Tom—he wasn't no Christian, he didn't ever +experience a change of heart: it was always like as if he was just going +to be converted, when he wasn't in drink; fer he was good in his heart, +Tom was. But he wasn't no Christian, an' I'm not sayin' he isn't lost. +I'm only sayin',"—this with a sudden passion, and knotting her tremulous +hands hard together,—"I'm only sayin' I can't love God no more! Him +havin' all the power—and then look at Tom an' me"—</p> + +<p>Helen tried to speak, but Mrs. Davis would not listen. "No," she cried, +"yer the preacher's wife, but I must say it. He never give Tom a chance, +an' how am I goin' to love Him now? Tom,"—she pointed a shaking finger +at the coffin in the next room,—"born, as you might say, drinkin'. His +father died in a drunken fit, and his mother give it to her baby with her +milk. Then, what schoolin' did he get? Nothin', 'less it was his mother +lickin' him. Tom's often told me that. He hadn't no trade learned, +neither,—just rafted with men as bad as him. Is it any wonder he wasn't +converted?"</p> + +<p>"I know all that," Helen began to say gently, but Mrs. Davis could not +check the torrent of her despairing grief.</p> + +<p>"He didn't have no chance; an' he didn't ask to be born, neither. God put +him here, an' look at the way He made him live; look at this house; see +the floor, how the water runs down into that corner: it is all sagged an' +leanin'—the whole thing is rotten look at that one window, up against +the wall; not a ray of sunshine ever struck it. An' here's where God's +made us live. Six of us, now the baby's come. Children was the only thing +we was rich in, and we didn't have food enough to put in their mouths, or +decent clothes to cover 'em. Look at the people 'round us here—livin' in +this here row of tenements—drinkin', lying' swearin'. What chance had +Tom? God never give him any, but He could of, if He'd had a mind to. So +I can't love Him, Mrs. Ward,—I can't love Him; Him havin' all the power, +and yet lettin' Tom's soul go down to hell; fer Tom couldn't help it, and +him livin' so. I ain't denyin' religion, ner anything like that—I'm a +Christian woman, an' a member—but I can't love Him, so there's no use +talkin'—I can't love Him."</p> + +<p>She turned away and shook the shirt out, hanging it over the back of a +chair in front of the stove, to dry. Helen had followed her, and put her +arm across the thin, bent shoulders, her eyes full of tears, though the +widow's were hard and bright.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Davis," she cried, "of course you could not love a God who +would never give Tom a chance and then punish him; of course you could +not love Him! But he is not punished by being sent to hell; indeed, +indeed, he is not. If God is good, He could not be so cruel as to give +a soul no chance, and then send it to hell. Don't ever think that Tom, +brave fellow, is there! Oh, believe what I say to you!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis seemed stupefied; she looked up into those beautiful +distressed brown eyes, and her dry lips moved.</p> + +<p>"You don't think," she said, in a hoarse, hurried whisper—"you're not +saying—<i>Tom isn't in hell</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I know he is not, I know it! Justice? it would be the most frightful +injustice, because, don't you see," she went on eagerly, "it is just as +you said,—Tom had no chance; so God could not punish him eternally for +being what he had to be, born as he was, and living as he did. I don't +know anything about people's souls when they die,—I mean about going to +heaven,—but I do know this: as long as a soul lives it has a chance for +goodness, a chance to turn to God. There is no such place as hell!"</p> + +<p>"But—but"—the widow faltered, "he was cut off in his sins. The preacher +wouldn't say but he was lost!" Her words were a wail of despair.</p> + +<p>Helen groaned; she was confronted by her loyalty to John, yet the +suffering of this hopeless soul! "Listen," she said, taking Mrs. Davis's +hands in hers, and speaking slowly and tenderly, while she held the weak, +shifting eyes by her own steady look, "listen. I do not know what the +preacher would say, but it is not true that Tom is lost; it is not true +that God is cruel and wicked; it is not true that, while Tom's soul +lives, he cannot grow good."</p> + +<p>The rigid look in the woman's face began to disappear; her hopeless +belief was shaken, not through any argument, but by the mere force of the +intense conviction shining in Helen's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said appealingly, and beginning to tremble, "are you true with +me, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I am true, indeed I am!" Helen answered, unconscious that her own tears +fell upon Mrs. Davis's hands; the woman looked at her, and suddenly her +face began to flush that painful red which comes before violent weeping.</p> + +<p>"If you're true, if you're right, then I can be sorry. I wouldn't let +myself be sorry while I couldn't have no hope. Oh, I can be that sorry it +turns me glad!"</p> + +<p>The hardness was all gone now; she broke into a storm of tears, saying +between her sobs, "Oh, I'm so glad—I'm so glad!"</p> + +<p>A long time the two women sat together, the widow still shaken by gusts +of weeping, yet listening hungrily to Helen's words, and sometimes even +smiling through her tears. The hardship of loss to herself and her +children was not even thought of; there was only intense relief from +horrible fear; she did not even stop to pity Tom for the pain of death; +coming out of that nightmare of hell, she could only rejoice.</p> + +<p>The early sunset flashed a sudden ruddy light through the window in the +front room, making a gleaming bar on the bare whitewashed wall, and +startling Helen with the lateness of the hour.</p> + +<p>"I must go now," she said, rising. "I will come again to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis rose, too, lifting her tear-stained face, with its trembling +smile, towards her deliverer. "Won't you come in the other room a +minute?" she said. "I want to show you the coffin. I got the best I +could, but I didn't have no pride in it. It seems different now."</p> + +<p>They went in together, Mrs. Davis crying quietly. Tom's face was hidden, +and a fine instinct of possession, which came with the strange uplifting +of the moment, made his wife shrink from uncovering it.</p> + +<p>She stroked the varnished lid of the coffin, with her rough hands, as +tenderly as though the poor bruised body within could feel her touch.</p> + +<p>"How do you like it?" she asked anxiously. "I wanted to do what I could +fer Tom. I got the best I could. Mr. Ward give me some money, and I +spent it this way. I thought I wouldn't mind going hungry, afterwards. +You don't suppose,"—this with a sudden fear, as one who dreads to fall +asleep lest a terrible dream may return,—"you don't suppose I'll forget +these things you've been tellin' me, and think <i>that</i> of Tom?"</p> + +<p>"No," Helen answered, "not if you just say to yourself that I told you +what Mr. Dean said was not true. Never mind if you cannot remember the +reasons I have given you,—I'll tell them all to you again; just try and +forget what the elder said."</p> + +<p>"I will try," she said; and then wavering a little, "but the preacher, +Mrs. Ward?"</p> + +<p>"The preacher," Helen answered bravely, "will think this way, too, some +day, I know." And then she made the same excuse for him which she had +given Alfaretta, with the same pang of regret.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," the woman said, "I see. I feel now as though I could love +God real hard 'cause He's good to Tom. But Mrs. Ward, the preacher must +be wonderful good, fer he can think God would send my Tom to hell, and +yet he can love Him! I couldn't do it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is good!" Helen cried, with a great leap of her heart.</p> + +<p>The wind blew the powdered snow about, as she walked home in the cold +white dusk, piling it in great drifts, or leaving a ridge of earth swept +bare and clean. The blackened lumber-yards were quite deserted in the +deepening chill which was felt as soon as the sun set; the melting snow +on the hot, charred planks had frozen into long icicles, and as she +stopped to look at the ruin one snapped, and fell with a splintering +crash.</p> + +<p>One of those strangely unsuggested remembrances flashed into her mind: +the gleam of a dove's white wing against the burning blue of a July sky, +the blaze of flowers in the rectory garden, and the subtle, penetrating +fragrance of mignonette. Perhaps the contrast of the intense cold and the +gathering night brought the scene before her; she sighed; if she and John +could go away from this grief and misery and sin, which they seemed +powerless to relieve, and from this hideous shadow of Calvinism!</p> + +<p>"After all," she thought, hurrying along towards home and John, "Mrs. +Davis is right,—it is hard to love Him. He does not give a chance to +every one; none of us can escape the inevitable past. And that is as hard +as to be punished unjustly. And there is no help for it all. Oh, where is +God?"</p> + +<p>Just as she left the lumber-yard district, she heard her name called, and +saw Gifford Woodhouse striding towards her. "You have been to those poor +Davises I suppose," he said, as he reached her side, and took her empty +basket from her hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, sighing. "Oh, Gifford, how dreadful it all is,—the +things these people say, and really believe!" Then she told him of Elder +Dean, and a little of her talk with Mrs. Davis. Gifford listened, his +face growing very grave.</p> + +<p>"And that is their idea of God?" he said, as she finished. "Well, it is +mine of the devil. But I can't help feeling sorry you spoke as you did to +the elder."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "to assert your opinion of the doctrine of eternal +damnation as you did, considering your position, Helen, was scarcely +wise."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean because I am the preacher's wife?" she remonstrated, +smiling. "I must have my convictions, if I am; and I could not listen to +such a thing in silence. You don't know John, if you think he would +object to the expression of opinion." Gifford dared not say that John +would object to the opinion itself. "But perhaps I spoke too forcibly; +I should be sorry to be unkind, even to Elder Dean."</p> + +<p>"Well," Gifford said doubtfully, "I only hope he may not feel called upon +to 'deal with you.'"</p> + +<p>They laughed, but the young man added, "After all, when you come to +think of it, Helen, there is no bigotry or narrowness which does not +spring from a truth, and nothing is truer than that sin is punished +eternally. It is only their way of making God responsible for it,—not +ourselves,—and arranging the details of fire and brimstone, which is so +monstrous. Somebody says that when the Calvinists decided on sulphur they +did not know the properties of caustic potash. But there are stages of +truth; there's no use knocking a man down because he is only on the first +step of the ladder, which you have climbed into light. I think belief in +eternal damnation is a phase in spiritual development."</p> + +<p>"But you don't really object to my protest?" she said. "Come, Giff, the +truth must be strong enough to be expressed."</p> + +<p>"I don't object to the protest," he answered slowly, "but I hope the +manner of it will not make things difficult for Mr. Ward."</p> + +<p>Helen laughed, in spite of her depression. "Why, Gifford," she said, "it +is not like you to be so apprehensive, and over so small a matter, too. +Mr. Dean has probably forgotten everything I said, and, except that I +mean to tell him, John would never hear a word about it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p>The winter was passing very quietly in Ashurst; the only really great +excitement was Helen's letter about the fire and Colonel Drayton's attack +of gout.</p> + +<p>Life went on as it had as far back as any one cared to remember, with the +small round of church festivals and little teas, and the Saturday evening +whist parties at the rectory. But under monotonous calm may lurk very +wearing anxiety, and this was the case in Ashurst.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner endeavored, with but indifferent success, to conceal the +indecision which was still preying upon his mind. For the suggestion +gained from Jephtha had proved useless. He had, indeed, tried to act upon +it. A day or two after the thought had come to him which so interrupted +family prayers, Mr. Denner sallied forth to learn his fate. It was +surprising how particular he was about his linen that morning,—for he +went in the morning,—and he arrayed himself in his best clothes; he saw +no impropriety, considering the importance of the occasion, in putting on +his evening coat. He even wore his new hat, a thing he had not done more +than half a dozen times—at a funeral perhaps, or a fair—since he bought +it, three years before.</p> + +<p>It was a bright, frosty day, and the little gentleman stepped briskly +along the road towards the house of the two sisters. He felt as +light-hearted as any youth who goes a-wooing with a reasonable certainty +of a favorable answer from his beloved. He even sang a little to himself, +in a thin, sweet voice, keeping time with his stick, like a drum-major, +and dwelling faithfully on all the prolonged notes.</p> + +<p>"Believe me," sang Mr. Denner,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Believe me, if all those endearing young charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I gaze on so fondly to-day'"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Denner's rendering of charms was very elaborate. But while he was +still lingering on the last word, disappointment overtook him.</p> + +<p>Coming arm in arm down the road were two small figures. Mr. Denner's +sight was not what it once was; he fumbled in the breast of his +bottle-green overcoat for his glasses, as a suspicion of the truth +dawned upon him.</p> + +<p>His song died upon his lips, and he turned irresolutely, as though to +fly, but it was too late; he had recognized at the same moment Miss +Deborah and Miss Ruth Woodhouse. By no possibility could he say which he +had seen first.</p> + +<p>He advanced to meet them, but the spring had gone from his tread and +the light from his eye; he was thrown back upon his perplexities. The +sisters, still arm in arm, made a demure little bow, and stopped to say +"Good-morning," but Mr. Denner was evidently depressed and absent-minded.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what's the matter with William Denner, sister?" Miss Ruth said, +when they were out of hearing.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's troubled about his housekeeping," answered Miss Deborah. +"I should think he might be, I must say. That Mary of his does keep him +looking so! And I have no doubt she is wasteful; a woman who is +economical with her needle and thread is pretty apt not to be saving in +other things."</p> + +<p>"What a pity he hasn't a wife!" commented Miss Ruth. "Adele Dale says +he's never been in love. She says that that affair with Gertrude Drayton +was a sort of inoculation, and he's been perfectly healthy ever since."</p> + +<p>"Very coarse in dear Adele to speak in that way," said Miss Deborah +sharply. "I suppose he never has gotten over Gertrude's loss. Yet, if his +sister-in-law had to die, it is a pity it wasn't a little sooner. He was +too old when she died to think of marriage."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Deborah, he is not quite too old even yet, if he found a +person of proper age. Not too young, and, of course, not too old."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah did not reply immediately. "Well, I don't know; perhaps +not," she conceded. "I do like a man to be of an age to know his own +mind. That is why I am so surprised at Adele Dale's anxiety to bring +about a match between young Forsythe and Lois, they are neither of them +old enough to know their own minds. And it is scarcely delicate in Adele, +I must say."</p> + +<p>"He's a very superior young man," objected Miss Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Miss Deborah acknowledged; "and yet"—she hesitated a little—"I +think he has not quite the—the modesty one expects in a young person."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but think how he has seen the world, sister!" cried Miss Ruth. "You +cannot expect him to be just like other young people."</p> + +<p>"True," said Miss Deborah, nodding her head; "and yet"—it was evident +from her persistence that Miss Deborah had a grievance of some kind—"yet +he seems to have more than a proper conceit. I heard him talk about +whist, one evening at the rectory; he said something about a person,—a +Pole, I believe,—and his rules in regard to 'signaling.' I asked him if +he played," Miss Deborah continued, her hands showing a little angry +nervousness; "and he said, 'Oh, yes, I learned to play one winter in +Florida!' Learned to play in a winter, indeed! To achieve whist"—Miss +Deborah held her head very straight—"to achieve whist is the work +of a lifetime! I've no patience with a young person who says a thing like +that."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth was silenced for a moment; she had no excuse to offer.</p> + +<p>"Adele Dale says the Forsythes are coming back in April," she said, at +last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it," answered Miss Deborah. "I suppose it will all be +arranged then. I asked Adele if Lois was engaged to him;—she said, 'Not +formally.' But I've no doubt there's an understanding."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah was so sure of this that she had even mentioned it casually +to Gifford, of course under the same seal of confidence with which it had +been told her.</p> + +<p>It was quite true that Dick and his mother were to return to Ashurst. +After storming out of the rectory library the night of the Misses +Woodhouse's dinner party, Dick had had a period of hatred of everything +connected with Ashurst; but that did not last more than a month, and was +followed by an imploring letter to Lois. Her answer brought the anger +back again, and then its reaction of love; this see-saw was kept up, +until his last letter had announced that he and his mother were coming +to take the house they had had before, and spend the summer.</p> + +<p>"We will come early," he wrote. "I cannot stay away. I have made mother +promise to open the house in April, so in a month more I shall see you. +I had an awful time to get her to come; she hates the country except in +summer, but at last she said she would. She knows why I want to come, and +she would be so happy if"—and then the letter trailed off into a wail of +disappointment and love.</p> + +<p>Impatient and worried, Lois threw the pages into the fire, and had a +malicious satisfaction in watching the elaborate crest curl and blacken +on the red coals. "I wish he'd stay away," she said; "he bothers me to +death. I hate him! What a silly letter!"</p> + +<p>It was so silly, she found herself smiling, in spite of her annoyance. +Now, to feel amusement at one's lover is almost as fatal as to be bored +by him. But poor Dick had no one to tell him this, and had poured out his +heart on paper, in spite of some difficulty in spelling, and could not +guess that he was laughed at for his pains.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were rewarded for their walk into Ashurst by a +letter from Gifford, which made them quite forget Mr. Denner's looks, and +Mrs. Dale's bad taste in being a matchmaker.</p> + +<p>He would be at home for one day the next week; business had called him +from Lockhaven, and on his way back he would stay a night in Ashurst. +The little ladies were flurried with happiness. Miss Deborah prepared +more dainties than even Gifford's healthy appetite could possibly +consume, and Miss Ruth hung her last painting of apple-blossoms in his +bedroom, and let her rose jar stand uncovered on his dressing-table for +two days before his arrival. When he came, they hovered about him with +small caresses and little chirps of affection, as though they would +express all the love of the months in which they had not seen him.</p> + +<p>Gifford had thought he would go to the rectory in the evening, and +somehow the companionship of his aunts while there had not occupied his +imagination; but it would have been cruel to leave them at home, so after +tea, having tasted every one of Miss Deborah's dishes, he begged them to +come with him to see Dr. Howe. They were glad to go anywhere if only with +him, and each took an arm, and bore him triumphantly to the rectory.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul," said Dr. Howe, looking at them over his glasses, as they +came into the library, "it is good to see you again, young man! How did +you leave Helen?" He pushed his chair back from the fire, and let his +newspapers rustle to the floor, as he rose. Max came and sniffed about +Gifford's knees, and wagged his tail, hoping to be petted. Lois was the +only one whose greeting was constrained, and Gifford's gladness withered +under the indifference in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't care," he thought while he was answering Dr. Howe, and +rubbing Max's ears with his left hand. "Helen may be right about +Forsythe, but she doesn't care for me, either."</p> + +<p>"Sit here, dear Giff," said Miss Ruth, motioning him to a chair at her +side.</p> + +<p>"There's a draught there, dear Ruth," cried Miss Deborah anxiously. "Come +nearer the fire, Gifford." But Gifford only smiled good-naturedly, and +leaned his elbow on the mantel, grasping his coat collar with one hand, +and listening to Dr. Howe's questions about his niece.</p> + +<p>"She's very well," he answered, "and the happiest woman I ever saw. Those +two people were made for each other, doctor."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, see here, young man," said the rector, who could not help +patronizing Gifford, "you'll disturb that happiness if you get into +religious discussions with Helen. Women don't understand that sort of +thing; young women, I mean," he added, turning to Miss Deborah, and then +suddenly looking confused.</p> + +<p>Gifford raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well, Helen will reason, you know; she +is not the woman to take a creed for granted."</p> + +<p>"She must," the rector said, with a chuckle, "if she's a Presbyterian. +She'll get into deep water if she goes to discussing predestination and +original sin, and all that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Gifford lightly, "of course she does not discuss those things. +I don't think that sort of theological rubbish had to be swept out of her +mind before the really earnest questions of life presented themselves. +Helen is singularly free from the trammels of tradition—for a woman."</p> + +<p>Lois looked up, with a little toss of her head, but Gifford did not even +notice her, nor realize how closely she was following his words.</p> + +<p>"John Ward, though," Gifford went on, "is the most perfect Presbyterian +I can imagine. He is logical to the bitter end, which is unusual, I +fancy. I asked him his opinion concerning a certain man, a fellow named +Davis,—perhaps Helen wrote of his death—I asked Ward what he thought of +his chances for salvation; he acknowledged, sadly enough, that he thought +he was damned. He didn't use that word, I believe," the young man added, +smiling, "but it amounted to the same thing."</p> + +<p>There was an outcry from his auditors. "Abominable!" said Dr. Howe, +bringing his fist heavily down on the table. "I shouldn't have thought +that of Ward,—outrageous!"</p> + +<p>Gifford looked surprised. "What a cruel man!" Lois cried; while Miss +Deborah said suddenly,—</p> + +<p>"Giff, dear, have those flannels of yours worn well?" But Gifford +apparently did not hear her.</p> + +<p>"Why, doctor," he remonstrated, "you misunderstand Ward. And he is not +cruel, Lois; he is the gentlest soul I ever knew. But he is logical, he +is consistent; he simply expresses Presbyterianism with utter truth, +without shrinking from its conclusions."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he may be consistent," the rector acknowledged, with easy transition +to good-nature, "but that doesn't alter the fact that he's a fool to +say such things. Let him believe them, if he wants to, but for Heaven's +sake let him keep silent! He can hold his tongue and yet not be a +Universalist. <i>Medio tutissimus ibis</i>, you know. It will be sure to +offend the parish, if he consigns people to the lower regions in such +a free way."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger of that," Gifford said; "I doubt if he could say +anything on the subject of hell too tough for the spiritual digestion of +his flock. They are as sincere in their belief as he is, though they +haven't his gentleness; in fact, they have his logic without his light; +there is very little of the refinement of religion in Lockhaven."</p> + +<p>"What a place to live!" Lois cried. "Doesn't Helen hate it? Of course she +would never say so to us, but she <i>must</i>! Everybody seems so dreadfully +disagreeable; and there is really no one Helen could know."</p> + +<p>"Why, Helen knows them all," answered Gifford in his slow way, looking +down at the girl's impulsive face.</p> + +<p>"Lois," said her father, "you are too emphatic in your way of speaking; +be more mild. I don't like gush."</p> + +<p>"Lois punctuates with exclamation points," Gifford explained +good-naturedly, meaning to take the sting out of Dr. Howe's reproof, +but hurting her instead.</p> + +<p>"But, bless my soul," said the rector, "what does Helen say to this sort +of talk?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she says anything, at least to him;" Gifford answered. "It +is so unimportant to Helen, she is so perfectly satisfied with Ward, his +opinions are of no consequence. She did fire up, though, about Davis," +and then he told the story of Elder Dean and Helen's angry protest.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe listened, first with grave disapproval, and then with positive +irritation.</p> + +<p>"Dean," Gifford concluded, "has taken it very much to heart; he told +me—he's a client of mine, a stupid idiot, who never reasoned a thing out +in his life—he told me that 'not to believe in eternal damnation was to +take a short cut to atheism.' He also confided to me that 'a church which +could permit such a falling from the faith was in a diseased condition.' +I don't believe that opinion has reached Ward, however. It would take +more grit than Dean possesses to dare to find fault with John Ward's wife +to her husband."</p> + +<p>"What folly!" cried the rector, his face flushed with annoyance. "What +possessed Helen to say such a thing! She ought to have had more sense. +Mark my words, that speech of hers will make trouble for Ward. I don't +understand how Helen could be so foolish; she was brought up just as Lois +was, yet, thank Heaven, her head isn't full of whims about reforming a +community. What in the world made her express such an opinion if she had +it, and what made her have it?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe had risen, and walked impatiently up and down the room, and now +stood in front of Gifford, with a forefinger raised to emphasize his +words. "There is something so absurd, so unpleasant, in a young woman's +meddling with things which don't belong to her, in seeing a little mind +struggle with ideas. Better a thousand times settle down to look after +her household, and cook her husband's dinner, and be a good child."</p> + +<p>Lois laughed nervously. "She has a cook," she said.</p> + +<p>"Don't be pert, Lois, for Heaven's sake," answered her father, though +Miss Deborah had added,—</p> + +<p>"Gifford says dear Helen is a very good housekeeper."</p> + +<p>"Pray," continued the rector, "what business is it of hers what people +believe, or what she believes herself, for that matter, provided she's a +good girl, and does her duty in that station of life where it has pleased +God to put her,—as the wife of a Presbyterian minister? 'Stead of that +she tries to grapple with theological questions, and gets into hot water +with the parish. 'Pon my word, I thought better of the child! I'll write +and tell her what I think of it." (And so he did, the very next day. But +his wrath had expended itself in words, and his letter showed no more of +his indignation than the powdery ashes which fell out of it showed the +flame of the cigar he was smoking when he wrote it.) "And as for Ward +himself," the rector went on, "I don't know what to think of him. Did you +know he had given up his salary? Said 'Helen had enough for them to live +on,' and added that they had no right to any more money than was +necessary for their comfort; anything more than that belonged to the +Lord's poor. Bless my soul, the clergyman comes under that head, to my +mind. Yes, sir, he's willing to live on his wife! I declare, the fellow's +a—a—well, I don't know any word for him!"</p> + +<p>There was a chorus of astonishment from the ladies.</p> + +<p>"'Christian' would be a pretty good word," said Gifford slowly. "Isn't he +following Christ's example rather more literally than most of us?"</p> + +<p>"But to live on his wife!" cried Dr. Howe.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe," Gifford responded, smiling, "that that would distress +John Ward at all."</p> + +<p>"Apparently not," said the rector significantly.</p> + +<p>"He loves her too much," Gifford went on, "to think of himself apart from +her; don't you see? They are one; what difference does it make about the +money?"</p> + +<p>"Could you do it?" asked Dr. Howe.</p> + +<p>"Well, no," Gifford said, shrugging his shoulders; "but then, I'm not +John Ward."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven!" said the rector devoutly.</p> + +<p>"But it is a mistake, all the same," Gifford went on; "it is +unbusiness-like, to say nothing of being bad for his people to have the +burden of support lifted from them; it pauperizes them spiritually."</p> + +<p>After the relief of this outburst against John Ward, Dr. Howe felt the +inevitable irritation at his hearers. "Well, I only mention this," he +said, "because, since he is so strange, it won't do, Gifford, for you to +abet Helen in this ridiculous skepticism of hers. If Ward agreed with +her, it would be all right, but so long as he does not, it will make +trouble between them, and a woman cannot quarrel with an obstinate and +bigoted man with impunity. And you have no business to have doubts +yourself, sir."</p> + +<p>The two sisters were much impressed with what the rector said. "I must +really caution Giff," said Miss Deborah to Lois, "not to encourage dear +Helen in thinking about things; it's very unfeminine to think, and +Gifford is so clever, he doesn't stop to remember she's but a woman. And +he is greatly attached to her; dear me, he has never forgotten what might +have been,"—this in almost a whisper.</p> + +<p>Both the sisters talked of Dr. Howe's anger as they went home.</p> + +<p>"He's right," said Miss Deborah, who had dropped her nephew's arm, so +that she might be more cautious about the mud, and who lifted her skirt +on each side, as though she was about to make a curtsy,—"he's right: a +woman ought to think just as her husband does; it is quite wrong in dear +Helen not to, and it will bring unhappiness. Indeed, it is a lesson to +all of us," she added.</p> + +<p>Respect was an instinct with Gifford, and he did not stop to think that +it was a lesson by which Miss Deborah would have no opportunity to +profit.</p> + +<p>But he was not listening closely to the chatter of the little ladies; he +was thinking of Lois's indifference. "She even looked bored, once," he +thought; "but that does not necessarily mean that she cares for Forsythe. +I will trust her. She may never love me, but she will never care for +him."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p>The feeling in Lockhaven about Helen Ward's unbelief was not confined to +Elder Dean; for every one who knew Mrs. Davis knew what the preacher's +wife thought of Tom's salvation, and judged her accordingly. As for the +widow herself, the hope Helen had given her quite died out under the +fostering care of Elder Dean. She grew more bitter than ever, and refused +even to speak on the subject.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," she said wearily, when Helen went to see her after the +funeral,—"no, ma'am, 'tain't no use to talk. Elder Dean's been here, and +I know there ain't no good hopin'. Even the preacher don't say there's +any good hopin'. What you said was a comfort, ma'am, but 'twasn't true. +'Twasn't religion. It's in the Bible that there's a hell, and there's no +use sayin' there isn't; sayin' there isn't won't keep us from it, Elder +Dean says, and I guess he's about right. I'm sure I'm much obliged to +you, ma'am; but I'm a Christian woman myself, and I can't deny religion."</p> + +<p>There was no use arguing; custom and a smattering of logic settled her +convictions, and no reasoning could move her dreary hopelessness.</p> + +<p>Helen told John of it, her head resting on his breast, and comforted by +his mere presence. "I know you believe in hell," she ended, "but, oh, +John, it is so horrible!"</p> + +<p>He stroked her hair softly. "I am afraid, dearest," he said, "Mrs. Davis +is right. I am afraid there is no possibility of hope. The soul that +sinneth, it shall die, and shall not the Judge of all the earth do +right?"</p> + +<p>Helen sprang to her feet. "Oh," she cried passionately,—"that is just +it,—He does do right! Why, if I thought God capable of sending Tom to +hell, I should hate Him." John tried to speak, but she interrupted him. +"We will never talk of this again, never! Believe what you will, +dearest,—it does not matter,—but don't speak of it to me, if you +love me. I cannot bear it, John. Promise me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Helen," he said, with tender reproach, "would you have me conceal my +deepest life from you? It would seem like living apart, if there were one +subject on which we dared not touch. Just let me show you the truth and +justice of all this; let me tell you how the scheme of salvation makes +the mystery of sin and punishment clear and right."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, the flush of pain dying out of her face, but her eyes +still shining with unshed tears,—"no, I cannot talk of it. I should be +wicked if I could believe it; it would make me wicked. Don't ever speak +to me of it, John."</p> + +<p>She came and put her arms around him, and kissed his forehead gently; and +then she left him to struggle with his conscience, and to ask himself +whether his delay had caused this feeling of abhorrence, or whether the +waiting had been wise and should be prolonged.</p> + +<p>But Helen's words to Mrs. Davis were repeated, and ran from mouth to +mouth, with the strangest additions and alterations. Mrs. Ward had said +that there was no hell, and no heaven, and no God. What wonder, then, +with such a leaven of wickedness at work in the church, Elder Dean grew +alarmed, and in the bosom of his own family expressed his opinion of Mrs. +Ward, and at prayer-meeting prayed fervently for unbelievers, even though +she was not there to profit by it. Once, while saying that the preacher's +wife was sowing tares among the wheat, he met with an astonishing rebuff. +Alfaretta dared tell her father that he ought to be ashamed of himself to +talk that way about a saint and an angel, if ever there was one.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean was staggered; a female, a young female, and his daughter, to +dare to say such a thing to him! He opened his mouth several times before +he was able to speak.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta was at home for her evening out, and her young man was with +her, anxious for the clock to point to nine, that he might "see her +home." They had intended to leave the elder's early, and wander off for +a walk by the river, but prayers were delayed a little, and after that +Alfaretta had to listen to the good advice given every week; so Thaddeus +lost all hope of the river-walk, and only watched for nine o'clock, +when he knew she must start. But in this, too, he was doomed to +disappointment, for the outburst which so stunned the elder detained +Alfaretta until after ten, thereby causing Helen no little anxiety +about her prompt and pretty maid.</p> + +<p>The elder had closed his admonitions by warning his daughter not to +be listening to any teachings of the preacher's wife, for she was +a backslider, and she had fallen from grace. "In the first place," +said the elder, laying down the law with uplifted hand, "she's a +Episcopalian,—I heard her say that herself, when she first come here; +and her letter of dismissal was from a church with some Popish name,—St. +Robert or Stephen,—I don't just remember. I've seen one of those +churches. Thank the Lord, there isn't one in Lockhaven. They have candles +burnin', and a big brass cross. Rags of Popery,—they all belong to the +Scarlet Woman, I tell you! But she's a backslider even from that, fer +they have some truth; she's a child of the Evil One, with her unbelief!"</p> + +<p>This was more than Alfaretta could bear. "Indeed, pa," she cried, "you +don't know how good she is, or you wouldn't be sayin' that! Look how +she's slaved this winter fer the families that 'a' been in trouble, +havin' no work!"</p> + +<p>"'Tain't what she's done, Alfaretta," said her father solemnly; "works +without faith is of no avail. What says the Scripture? 'A man is +justified by faith' (by faith, Alfaretta!) 'without the deeds of the +law.' And what says the confession?"</p> + +<p>Alfaretta, by force of habit, began to stumble through the answer: "'We +cannot by our best works merit pardon of sin, or eternal life at the +hand—at the hand—of God, by reason of'"—Here her memory failed her.</p> + +<p>"Well," her father said impatiently, "can't you remember the rest? 'Works +done by unregenerate men are sinful, and cannot please God,' you know. +Go on."</p> + +<p>But Alfaretta could not go on, and the elder would not betray his own +lack of memory by attempting to quote.</p> + +<p>"So you see," he continued, "it isn't any use to talk of how good and +kind she is, or what she does; it is what she believes that will settle +her eternal salvation."</p> + +<p>But Alfaretta was unconvinced. "Well, sir," she said stubbornly, "it +don't seem to me that way, fer she's the best woman, except mother, I +ever saw. I reckon if anybody goes to heaven, she will; don't you, +Thaddeus?"</p> + +<p>Thaddeus was tilting back in his chair, his curly black head against the +whitewashed wall, and thus suddenly and embarrassingly appealed to—for +he was divided between a desire to win the approval of the elder and to +show his devotion to Alfaretta—he brought his chair down with a clatter +of all four legs on the floor, and looked first at the father and then at +the daughter, but did not speak.</p> + +<p>"Don't you, Thaddeus?" repeated Alfaretta severely, for the elder was +dumb with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Thaddeus, struggling for some opinion which should please +both,—"well, I do suppose we can hope for the best; that isn't against +the catechism."</p> + +<p>But the elder did not notice his feeble compromise, while Alfaretta only +gave him a quick, contemptuous look, for her father, opening and shutting +his mouth slowly for a moment, began to say,—</p> + +<p>"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a child that's +ungrateful for the best of teaching and sound doctrine! Many's the time," +said the elder, lifting his eyes and hands,—"many's the time I've showed +her the truth; many's the time I've explained how every other sort of +religion is all wrong, and is of its father the Devil! And I've brought +her up faithful to the catechism and the confession, yet now the child +would instruct the parent! This comes," he cried, becoming very angry, +and beating his hand so violently upon the table that the family Bible +fell with a crash to the floor, from which Thaddeus lifted it,—"this +comes from your settin' in the seat of the scornful, and bein' in the +kitchen of an unbeliever! You'll leave her; do you hear me, Alfaretta? +You'll leave her this day month. I'll perform my duty to my child's soul, +even if Brother Ward's wife has to do her own cooking. Yes, and I'll do +my duty to Brother Ward, too, though I used to think him a pious young +man. I'll tell him he has got to convert that woman's soul She's a +corrupter of youth, she's a teacher of false doctrines,—her tellin' Mrs. +Davis there wasn't any hell!—she's a—a Episcopalian, so she is! She'll +experience a change of heart, or the Session will take this matter in +hand."</p> + +<p>At this terrible threat, even Alfaretta was speechless, and her mother +put two shaking hands on her arm, and whispered, "Oh, Retta, I wouldn't +say no more; it makes your pa angry."</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued the elder violently, "that woman is the Jonah of the +church, and she's got to be dealt with; to save her soul, she's got to be +disciplined, for the sake of every one that heard her false and lying +tongue. I'll have her brought before the Session and showed the truth, +and she shall be saved. Tom Davis not in hell, indeed!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean stopped for breath. Alfaretta's courage came back with a rush.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me," cried the young woman, stamping her foot with excitement, +for she was as angry as the elder himself,—"listen to me! How can you +say such things about her? A saint and angel, if ever there was one. The +Lord don't send no one to hell, let alone such as her. An' any way, I'd +rather go to the bad place with her than stay with all the golden harps +and crowns in the best sort of a heaven with them as would keep her out, +so I would!"</p> + +<p>Here Alfaretta broke down, and began to cry. Thaddeus could not stand +that; he edged up to her, murmuring, "I wouldn't cry, Retta,—I wouldn't +cry."</p> + +<p>But she only gave the shoulder he touched a vicious shake, and cried +harder than ever, saying, "No—I—I bet you wouldn't—you'd never—care."</p> + +<p>But Alfaretta's defense changed Mr. Dean's anger at the snub he received +from the preacher's wife into real alarm for his child's spiritual +welfare. A daughter of his to say the Lord did not send souls to hell!</p> + +<p>"Alfaretta," he said, with solemn slowness, "you'd better get your bunnet +and go home. I'll see Mr. Ward about this; his wife's done harm enough. +You've got to leave her,—I mean it. I won't see her send my child to +hell before my very eyes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pa," Alfaretta entreated, choking and sobbing, and brushing her +tears away with the back of her hand, "don't,—don't say nothin' to Mr. +Ward, nor take me away. 'Twasn't her made me say those things; it was +just my own self. Don't take me away."</p> + +<p>"Did she ever say anything to you about the Lord not sendin' people to +hell?" asked her father.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Alfaretta, growing more and more frightened, "'tain't what she +talks about; it's her bein' so good, an'"—</p> + +<p>"Did she ever," interrupted the elder, with slow emphasis, standing over +her, and shaking his stubby forefinger at her,—"did she ever say the +Lord didn't send Tom Davis to hell, to you?"</p> + +<p>Alfaretta cowered in her chair, and Thaddeus began to whimper for +sympathy. "I don't know," she answered desperately,—"I don't know +anything, except she's good."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me," said Mr. Dean, in his harsh, monotonous voice: "did Mrs. +Ward ever say anything to you about hell, or the Lord's not sendin' +people there? Answer me that."</p> + +<p>Then the loving little servant-maid, truthful as the blood of Scotch +ancestors and a Presbyterian training could make her, faced what she knew +would bring remorse, and, for all she could tell, unpardonable sin upon +her soul, and said boldly, "No, she never did. She never said one single +blessed word to me about hell."</p> + +<p>The wind seemed suddenly to leave the elder's sails, but the collapse was +only for a moment; even Alfaretta's offering of her first lie upon the +altar of her devotion to her mistress was not to save her.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, opening his mouth slowly and looking about with great +dignity, "if she hasn't said it to you, she has to other people, I'll be +bound. Fer she said it to Mrs. Davis, and"—the elder inflated his chest, +and held his head high—"and me. It is my duty as elder to take notice of +it, fer her own soul's sake, and to open her husband's eyes, if he's been +too blind to see it. Yes, the Session should deal with her. Prayers ain't +no good fer such as her," he said, becoming excited. "Ain't she heard my +prayers most all winter, till she give up comin' to prayer-meetin', +preferrin' to stay outside,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Where sinners meet, and awful scoffers dwell'?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>An' I've exhorted; but"—the elder raised his eyes piously to +heaven—"Paul may plant and Apollos may water, but it don't do no good."</p> + +<p>Alfaretta knew her father's iron will too well to attempt any further +protests. She wiped her eyes, and, while she put on a hat adorned with an +aggressive white feather, she bade the family good-night in an unsteady +voice. Thaddeus, anxious only to escape notice, sidled towards the door, +and stood waiting for her, with a deprecating look on his round face.</p> + +<p>In spite, however, of the elder's indignation and his really genuine +alarm about the influences which surrounded his child, he had a prudent +afterthought in the matter of her leaving the service of Mrs. Ward. It +was difficult to get anything in Lockhaven for a young woman to do, and +times were hard that year.</p> + +<p>"You—ah—you needn't give notice to-night, Alfaretta," he said. "I'll +speak to the preacher about it, myself. But mind you have as little to +say to her as you can, and may the Lord protect you!"</p> + +<p>But the elder's plans for cautioning his pastor were doomed to +disappointment. He was a prisoner with lumbago for the next fortnight, +and even the most sincere interest in some one else's spiritual welfare +cannot tempt a man out of the house when he is bent almost double with +lumbago. Nor, when John came to see him, could he begin such a +conversation as he had planned, for his neck was too stiff to allow him +to raise his head and look in Mr. Ward's face. When he recovered, he was +delayed still another week, because the preacher had gone away to General +Assembly.</p> + +<p>But Alfaretta was far too miserable to find in her father's command "not +to give notice to-night" any ray of comfort. She choked down her tears as +best she might, and started for the parsonage.</p> + +<p>Thaddeus had almost to run to keep up with her, such was her troubled and +impatient haste, and she scarcely noticed him, though he tramped through +the mud to show his contrition, instead of taking his place by her side +on the board walk.</p> + +<p>It is curious to see how a simple soul inflicts useless punishment upon +itself, when the person it has offended refuses to retaliate. Had +Alfaretta scolded, Thaddeus would not have walked in the mud.</p> + +<p>Her silence was most depressing.</p> + +<p>"Retta," he ventured timidly, "don't be mad with me,—now don't."</p> + +<p>He came a little nearer, and essayed to put an arm about her waist, a +privilege often accorded him on such an occasion. But now she flounced +away from him and said sharply, "You needn't be comin' round me, Mr. +Thaddeus Green. Anybody that thinks my Mrs. Ward isn't goin' to heaven +had just better keep off from me, fer I'm goin' with her, wherever that +is; and I suppose, if you think <i>that</i> of me, you'd better not associate +with me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say <i>you</i> was goin'," protested Thaddeus tearfully, but she +interrupted him with asperity.</p> + +<p>"Don't I tell you I'm bound to go where she goes? And if you're so +fearful of souls bein' lost, I wonder you don't put all your money in the +missionary-box, instead of buying them new boots."</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the thought of the new boots, but Thaddeus stepped on the +board walk, and this time, unreproved, slipped his arm about Alfaretta's +waist.</p> + +<p>"Oh, now Retta," he said, "I didn't mean any harm. I only didn't want the +elder thinkin' I wasn't sound, for he'd be sayin' we shouldn't keep +company, an' that's all I joined the church for last spring."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Alfaretta, willing to be reconciled if it brought any +comfort, "you do think Mrs. Ward will go to heaven?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Thaddeus answered with great confidence, and added in a burst of +gallantry, "She'll have to, Retta, if she goes along with you, for you'll +go there sure!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Forsythe did not come to Ashurst until the middle of April, and then +she came alone. Dick had been detained, she said, and would come in a +week or two. So Lois breathed freely, though she knew it was only a +respite, and made the most of her freedom to go and see his mother.</p> + +<p>She was very fond of the invalid, who always seemed to her, in her +glowing, rosy health, like an exquisite bit of porcelain, she was so +fine and dainty, with soft white hair curling around her gentle and +melancholy face. Mrs. Forsythe dressed in delicate grays and lavenders, +and her fingers were covered with rings, and generally held some filmy +fancy-work. Her invalidism had only given her an air of interesting +fragility, which made Lois long to put her strong young arms about her, +to shield her lest any wind might blow too roughly upon her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forsythe accepted her devotion with complacency. She had never had +this adoring tenderness from her son, who had heard her remark that she +was at the gates of death too often to live in a state of anxiety; but +to Lois her gentle resignation and heavenly anticipations were most +impressive. The girl's affection almost reconciled the elder lady to +having been made to come to Ashurst while the snow still lingered in +sheltered spots, and before the crocuses had lighted their golden censers +in her garden; for Lois went to see her every day, and though she could +not always escape without a meaning look from the invalid, or a sigh for +Dick's future, she thoroughly enjoyed her visits. It was charming to sit +in the dusk, before the dancing flames of an apple-wood fire, the air +fragrant with the hyacinths and jonquils of the window garden, and listen +to tales of Mrs. Forsythe's youth.</p> + +<p>Lois had never heard such stories. Mrs. Dale would have said it was not +proper for young girls to know of love affairs, and it is presumable that +the Misses Woodhouse never had any to relate; so this was Lois's first +and only chance, and she would sit, clasping her knees with her hands, +listening with wide, frank eyes, and cheeks flushed by the fire and the +tale.</p> + +<p>"But then, my poor health," Mrs. Forsythe ended with a sigh, one evening, +just before it was time for Lois to go; "of course it interfered very +much."</p> + +<p>"Why, were you ill <i>then</i>," Lois said, "when you used to dance all +night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me, yes," answered the other shaking her head, "I have been a +sufferer all my life, a great sufferer. Well, it cannot last much longer; +this poor body is almost worn out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i> say it!" Lois cried, and kissed the white soft hand with its +shining rings, in all the tenderness of her young heart.</p> + +<p>All this endeared the girl very much, and more than once Mrs. Forsythe +wrote of her sweetness and goodness to her son. Miss Deborah, or Miss +Ruth, or even Mrs. Dale, would have been careful in using the name of any +young woman in writing to a gentleman, but Mrs. Forsythe had not been +born in Ashurst.</p> + +<p>However, Dick still lingered, and Lois rejoiced, and even her +anticipation of the evil time to come, when he should arrive and end her +peaceful days, could not check her present contentment. It was almost +May, and that subtile, inexplainable joy of the springtime made it a +gladness even to be alive. Lois rambled about, hunting for the first +green spears of that great army of flowers which would soon storm the +garden, and carrying any treasure she might find to Mrs. Forsythe's +sick-room. The meadows were spongy with small springs, bubbling up under +the faintly green grass. The daffadown-dillies showed bursting yellow +buds, and the pallid, frightened-looking violets brought all their +mystery of unfolding life to the girl's happy eyes.</p> + +<p>One Saturday morning, while she was looking for the bunch of grape +hyacinths which came up each year, beside the stone bench, she was +especially light-hearted. Word had come from Helen that the long-promised +visit should be made the first week in June. "It can only be for a week, +you know," Helen wrote, "because I cannot be away from John longer than +that, and I must be back for our first anniversary, too."</p> + +<p>More than this, Mrs. Forsythe had sighed, and told her that poor dear +Dick's business seemed to detain him; it was such a shame! And perhaps he +could not get to Ashurst for a fortnight. So Lois Howe was a very happy +and contented girl, standing under the soft blue of the April sky, and +watching her flock of white pigeons wheeling and circling about the gable +of the red barn, while the little stream, which had gained a stronger +voice since the spring rains, babbled vociferously at her side. The long, +transparent stems of the flowers broke crisply between her fingers, as +she heard her name called.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner, with his fishing-basket slung under one arm and his rod +across his shoulder, was regarding her through a gap in the hedge.</p> + +<p>"A lovely day!" said the little gentleman, his brown eyes twinkling with +a pleasant smile.</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is, sir," Lois answered; "and look at the flowers I've found!"</p> + +<p>She tipped the basket of scented grass on her arm that he might see them. +Mr. Denner had stopped to ask if Mrs. Forsythe would be present at the +whist party that night, and was rather relieved to learn that she was not +able to come; he had lost his hand the week before, because she had +arrived with the Dales. Then he inquired about her son's arrival, and +went away thinking what a simple matter a love affair was to some people. +Lois and that young man! Why, things were really arranged for them; they +had almost no responsibility in the matter; their engagement settled +itself, as it were.</p> + +<p>He walked abstractedly towards his house, wrestling with the old puzzle. +Nothing helped him, or threw light on his uncertainty; he was tired of +juggling with fate, and was growing desperate.</p> + +<p>"I wish they would settle it between themselves," he murmured, with a +wistful wrinkle on his forehead. Suddenly a thought struck him; there was +certainly one way out of his difficulties: he could ask advice. He could +lay the whole matter frankly before some dispassionate person, whose +judgment should determine his course. Why had he not thought of it +before! Mr. Denner's face brightened; he walked gayly along, and began +to hum to himself:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, wert thou, love, but near me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But near, near, near me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fondly wouldst thou cheer me"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Here he stopped abruptly. Whom should he ask? He went carefully through +his list of friends, as he trudged along the muddy road.</p> + +<p>Not Dr. Howe: he did not take a serious enough view of such things; Mr. +Denner recalled that scene in his office, and his little face burned. +Then, there was Mrs. Dale: she was a woman, and of course she would know +the real merit of each of the sisters. Stay: Mrs. Dale did not always +seem in sympathy with the Misses Woodhouse; he had even heard her say +things which were not, perhaps, perfectly courteous; that the sisters had +been able to defend themselves, Mr. Denner overlooked. Colonel Drayton: +well, a man with the gout is not the confidant for a lover. He was +beginning to look depressed again, when the light came. Henry Dale! No +one could be better.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner awaited the evening with impatience. He would walk home with +the Dales, he thought, and then he and Henry could talk it all over, down +in the study.</p> + +<p>He was glad when the cool spring night began to close, full of that +indefinable fragrance of fresh earth and growing things, and before it +was time to start he cheered himself by a little music. He went into the +dreary, unused parlor, and pulling up the green Venetian blinds, which +rattled like castanets, he pushed back the ivy-fastened shutters, and sat +down by the open window; then, with his chin resting upon his fiddle, and +one foot in its drab gaiter swinging across his knee, he played +mournfully and shrilly in the twilight, until it was time to start.</p> + +<p>He saw the Misses Woodhouse trotting toward the rectory, with Sarah +walking in a stately way behind them, swinging her unlighted lantern, and +cautioning them not to step in the mud. But he made no effort to join +them; it was happiness enough to contemplate the approaching solution of +his difficulties, and say to himself triumphantly, "This time to-morrow!" +and he began joyously to play, "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," +rendering carefully all the quavers in that quavering air.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner's meditations made him late at the rectory, and he felt Mrs. +Dale look sternly at him; so he made haste to deal, sitting well forward +in his chair, under which he tucked his little feet, and putting down +each card with nervous care. His large cuffs almost hid his small, thin +hands, and now and then he paused to rub his thumb and forefinger +together, that the cards might not stick.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Denner did not play well that night; Miss Deborah looked at him +with mild reproach, and was almost angry when he answered her with an +absent smile.</p> + +<p>The evening seemed very long to Mr. Denner, and even when the party had +said "Good-night" Mr. Dale was slow about getting off; he put his wife +into the carriage, and then stopped to ask Dr. Howe if he had the first +edition of "Japhet in Search of a Father"?</p> + +<p>"In search of a father!" Mr. Denner thought, as he stood waiting by the +steps,—"how can he be interested in that?"</p> + +<p>At last the front door closed, and Mr. Dale and Mr. Denner walked +silently down the lane in the starlight, the lawyer's little heart +beating so with excitement, that he had a suffocated feeling, and once +or twice put his hand to his throat, as though to loosen his muffler.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale, still absorbed in his first edition, took swinging strides, the +tails of his brown cloth overcoat flapping and twisting about his long, +thin legs. Mr. Denner had now and then almost to break into a trot to +keep up with him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale walked with his hands clasped behind him, and his stick under +his arm; his soft felt hat was pulled down over his eyes, so that his +keeping the path was more by chance than sight. He stopped once to pluck +a sprig from the hawthorn hedge, to put between his lips. This gave Mr. +Denner breath, and a chance to speak.</p> + +<p>"I think I will walk home with you, Henry," he said. "I want to have a +talk with you."</p> + +<p>His heart thumped as he said that; he felt he had committed himself.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, that's very pleasant," responded Mr. Dale. "I was just +thinking I should be alone half the way home."</p> + +<p>"But you would not be alone when you got there," Mr. Denner said +meditatively; "now, with me it is different."</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite different,—quite different."</p> + +<p>"Yes," proceeded the other, "I have very little companionship. I go home +and sit in my library all by myself. Sometimes, I get up and wander about +the house, with only my cigar for company."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Mr. Dale, "that you can smoke wherever you want, in +your house? I often think of your loneliness; coming and going just as +you please, quite independently."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner gave him a sudden questioning look, and then appeared to +reproach himself for having misunderstood his friend.</p> + +<p>"Yes, just so,—just so. I knew you would appreciate it; but you can +never know from experience, Henry, how a man feels left quite to himself. +You do not think of the independence; it is the loneliness. You cannot +know that."</p> + +<p>"No," murmured Mr. Dale, "perhaps not, but I can imagine it."</p> + +<p>When they reached the iron gate of Dale house, they followed the trim +path across the lawn to the north side of the house, where it ended in +a little walk, three bricks wide, laid end to end, and so damp with +perpetual shade, they were slippery with green mould, and had tufts of +moss between them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale's study was in a sort of half basement one went down two steps +to reach the doorway, and the windows, set in thick stone walls and +almost hidden in a tangle of wistaria, were just above the level of the +path.</p> + +<p>The two old men entered, Mr. Dale bending his tall white head a little; +and while the lawyer unwound a long blue muffler from about his throat, +the host lighted a lamp, and, getting down on his knees, blew the dim +embers in the rusty grate into a flickering blaze. Then he pulled a +blackened crane from the jamb, and hung on it a dinted brass kettle, so +that he might add some hot water to Mr. Denner's gin and sugar, and also +make himself a cup of tea. That done, he took off his overcoat, throwing +it across the mahogany arm of the horse-hair sofa, which was piled with +books and pamphlets, and whitened here and there with ashes from his +silver pipe; then he knotted the cord of his flowered dressing-gown about +his waist, spread his red silk handkerchief over his thin locks, and, +placing his feet comfortably upon the high fender, was ready for +conversation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner, meanwhile, without waiting for the formality of an +invitation, went at once to a small corner closet, and brought out a +flat, dark bottle and an old silver cup. He poured the contents of the +bottle into the cup, added some sugar, and lastly, with a sparing hand, +the hot water, stirring it round and round with the one teaspoon which +they shared between them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale had produced a battered caddy, and soon the fumes of gin and tea +mingled amicably together.</p> + +<p>"If I could always have such evenings as this," Mr. Denner thought, +sipping the hot gin and water, and crossing his legs comfortably, "I +should not have to think of—something different."</p> + +<p>"Your wife would appreciate what I meant about loneliness," he said, +going back to what was uppermost in his mind. "A house without a mistress +at its head, Henry, is—ah—not what it should be."</p> + +<p>The remark needed no reply; and Mr. Dale leaned back in his leather +chair, dreamily watching the blue smoke from his slender pipe drift level +for a moment, and then, on an unfelt draught, draw up the chimney.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner, resting his mug on one knee, began to stir the fire gently. +"Yes, Henry," he continued, "I feel it more and more as I grow older. I +really need—ah—brightness and comfort in my house. Yes, I need it. And +even if I were not interested, as it were, myself, I don't know but what +my duty to Willie should make me—ah—think of it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale was gazing at the fire. "Think of what?" he said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner became very much embarrassed. "Why, what I was just observing, +just speaking of,—the need of comfort—in my house—and my life, I +might say. Less loneliness for me, Henry, and, in fact, a—person—a—a +female—you understand."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale looked at him.</p> + +<p>"In fact, as I might say, a wife, Henry."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale was at last aroused; with his pipe between his lips, he clutched +the lion's-heads on the arms of his chair, and sat looking at Mr. Denner +in such horrified astonishment, that the little gentleman stumbled over +any words, simply for the relief of speaking.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "just so, Henry, just so. I have been thinking of it +lately, perhaps for the last year; yes—I have been thinking of it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale, still looking at him, made an inarticulate noise in his throat.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner's face began to show a faint dull red to his temples. +"Ah—yes—I—I have thought of it, as it were."</p> + +<p>"Denner," said Mr. Dale solemnly, "you're a fool."</p> + +<p>"If you mean my age, Henry," cried the other, his whole face a dusky +crimson, that sent the tears stinging into his little brown eyes, "I +cannot say I think your—surprise—is—ah—justified. It is not as though +there was anything unsuitable—she—they—are quite my age. And for +Willie's sake, I doubt if it is not a—a duty. And I am only sixty-one +and a half, Henry. You did not remember, perhaps, that I was so much +younger than you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale pulled off his red handkerchief, and wiped his forehead; after +which he said quite violently, "The devil!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," remonstrated Mr. Denner, balancing his mug on his knee, and lifting +his hands deprecatingly, "not such words, Henry,—not such words; we are +speaking of ladies, Henry."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale was silent.</p> + +<p>"You have no idea," the other continued, "in your comfortable house, with +a good wife, who makes you perfectly happy, how lonely a man is who lives +as I do; and I can tell you, the older he grows, the more he feels it. So +really, age is a reason for considering it."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of age," said Mr. Dale feebly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," replied the other triumphantly, "age is the only objection +that could be urged. A man is happier and better for female influence; +and the dinners I have are really not—not what they should be, Henry. +That would all be changed, if I had a—ah—wife."</p> + +<p>"Denner," said his friend, "there are circumstances where a dinner of +herbs is more to be desired than a stalled ox, you will remember."</p> + +<p>"That is just how I feel," said the other eagerly, and too much +interested in his own anxieties to see Mr. Dale's point. "Mary is not +altogether amiable."</p> + +<p>Again Mr. Dale was silent.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would see the—the—desirability of it," the lawyer +continued, the flush of embarrassment fading away, "and so I decided to +ask your advice. I thought that, not only from your own—ah—heart, but +from the novels and tales you read, you would be able to advise me in any +matter of esteem."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale groaned, and shook his head from side to side.</p> + +<p>"But, good Lord, Denner, books are one thing, life's another. You can't +live in a book, man."</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Mr. Denner, "just so; but I only want the benefit of your +experience in reading these tales of—ah—romance. You see, here is my +trouble, Henry,—I cannot make up my mind."</p> + +<p>"To do it?" cried Mr. Dale, with animation.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Denner interrupted him with a polite gesture. "No, I shall +certainly do it, I did not mean to mislead you. I shall certainly do it, +but I cannot make up my mind which."</p> + +<p>"Which?" said Mr. Dale vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the little gentleman, "which. Of course you know that +I refer to the Misses Woodhouse. You must have noticed my attentions of +late, for I have shown a great deal of attention to both; it has been +very marked. Yet, Henry, I cannot tell which (both are such estimable +persons) which I—should—ah—prefer. And knowing your experience, a +married man yourself, and your reading on such subjects,—novels are +mostly based upon esteem,—I felt sure you could advise me."</p> + +<p>A droll look came into Mr. Dale's face, but he did not speak.</p> + +<p>Feeling that he had made a clean breast of it, and that the +responsibility of choice was shifted to his friend's shoulders, the +lawyer, taking a last draught from the silver mug, and setting it down +empty on the table, leaned comfortably back in his chair to await the +decision.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence; once Mr. Denner broke it by saying, "Of course, +Henry, you see the importance of careful judgment," and then they were +still again.</p> + +<p>At last, Mr. Dale, with a long sigh, straightened up in his chair. He +lifted his white fluted china tea-cup, which had queer little chintz-like +bunches of flowers over it and a worn gilt handle, and took a pinch of +tea from the caddy; then, pouring some boiling water over it, he set it +on the hob to steep.</p> + +<p>"Denner," he said slowly, "which advice do you want? Whether to do it at +all, or which lady to choose?"</p> + +<p>"Which lady, of course," answered Mr. Denner promptly. "There can be but +one opinion as to the first question."</p> + +<p>"Ah," responded Mr. Dale; then, a moment afterwards, he added, "Well"—</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner looked at his friend, with eyes shining with excitement. "It +is very important to me, Henry," he said, with a faltering voice. "You +will keep that in mind, I am sure. They are both so admirable, and +yet—there must be some choice. Miss Deborah's housekeeping—you know +there's no such cooking in Ashurst; and she's very economical. But then, +Miss Ruth is artistic, and"—here a fine wavering blush crept over his +little face—"she is—ah—pretty, Henry. And the money is equally +divided," he added, with a visible effort to return to practical things.</p> + +<p>"I know. Yes, it's very puzzling. On the whole, Denner, I do not see how +I can advise you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner seemed to suffer a collapse.</p> + +<p>"Why, Henry," he quavered, "you must have an opinion?"</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Dale answered thoughtfully, "I cannot say that I have. Now, I +put it to you, Denner: how could I decide on the relative merits of Miss +Ruth and Miss Deborah, seeing that I have no affection, only respect, for +either of them? Affection! that ought to be your guide. Which do you have +most affection for?"</p> + +<p>"Why, really"—said Mr. Denner, "really"—and he stopped to think, +looking hard at the seal ring on his left hand—"I am afraid it is just +the same, if you call it affection. You see that doesn't help us."</p> + +<p>He had identified Mr. Dale's interest with his own anxiety, and looked +wistfully at the older man, who seemed sunk in thought and quite +forgetful of his presence. Mr. Denner put one hand to his lips and gave +a little cough. Then he said:—</p> + +<p>"One would think there would be a rule about such things, some +acknowledged method; a proverb, for instance; it would simplify matters +very much."</p> + +<p>"True," said Mr. Dale.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Denner added, "you would think in such a general thing as +marriage there would be. Complications like this must constantly arise. +What if Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth had another sister? Just see how +confused a man might be. Yes, one would suppose the wisdom of experience +would take the form of an axiom. But it hasn't."</p> + +<p>He sighed deeply, and rose, for it was late, and the little fire had +burned out.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale bent forward, with his elbows on his lean knees, and gently +knocked the ashes from his silver pipe. Then he got up, and, standing +with his back to the cold grate, and the tails of his flowered +dressing-gown under each arm in a comfortable way, he looked at the +lawyer, with his head a little on one side, as though he were about to +speak. Mr. Denner noticed it.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you cannot make any suggestion, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Dale, "it seems to me I had a thought—a sort of a +proverb, you might say—but it slips my memory."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner, with his overcoat half on, stood quite still, and trembled.</p> + +<p>"It is something about how to make up your mind," Mr. Dale continued, +very slowly; "let me see."</p> + +<p>"How to make up your mind?" cried Mr. Denner. "That's just the thing! +I'm sure, that's just the thing! And we cannot but have the greatest +confidence in proverbs. They are so eminently trustworthy. They are the +concentrated wisdom—of—of the ages, as it were. Yes, I should be quite +willing to decide the matter by a proverb."</p> + +<p>He looked at Mr. Dale eagerly, but this especial piece of wisdom still +eluded the older man.</p> + +<p>"It begins," said Mr. Dale, hesitating, and fixing his eyes upon the +ceiling,—"it begins—let me see. 'When in doubt'—ah"—</p> + +<p>"What is it?" gasped Mr. Denner. "That has a familiar sound, but I cannot +seem to finish it. When in doubt, what?"</p> + +<p>"Well," answered his friend ruefully, "it is not quite—it does not +exactly apply. I am afraid it won't; help us out. You know the rest. It +is merely—'take the trick'!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p>The morning after John Ward's return from his two weeks' absence at +General Assembly, he found it hard to settle down to work. Not that there +was very much to talk about, for daily letters had told of daily doings, +but to be with Helen again was an absorbing joy. She followed him about +as he put his papers away, and he, in turn, came out into the garden to +watch her while she showed Alfaretta where to plant some flower seeds.</p> + +<p>"Come over here," Helen said, "and see these violets under the big elm! +I have been so in hopes they would blossom in time to welcome you. Let's +pick some for the study."</p> + +<p>They pushed the shining, wet leaves aside, and found the flowers, and +then John watched his wife put them in a shallow dish on his table.</p> + +<p>"It is weak in me to come in here," Helen said, smiling. "I know you +ought to work, yet here I sit."</p> + +<p>"This is Thursday," he answered, "and I wrote my sermon on the train +yesterday, so after I have copied the reports I can afford to be lazy. I +cannot bear to have you out of my sight!" He drew her brown head down on +his shoulder, and stroked her face softly. "When I'm away from you, +Helen, I seem only half alive."</p> + +<p>"And in three weeks I have to go to Ashurst," she said ruefully. "It is +too bad I couldn't have gone while you were at General Assembly, but it +wouldn't have been right for us both to be away from the parsonage at +once."</p> + +<p>"No. Well, we have the three weeks yet. Yes, I must send you away, and +get at the reports. How you brighten this room, Helen! I think it must +be the sunshine that seems caught in your hair. It gleams like bronze +oak-leaves in October."</p> + +<p>"Love has done wonderful things for your eyes, John," she said, smiling, +as she left him.</p> + +<p>She put on her heavy gloves and brought her trowel from under the front +porch, and she and the maid began to dig up the fresh, damp earth on the +sunny side of the house.</p> + +<p>"We'll have some sweet-peas here, Alfaretta," she said cheerily, "and I +think it would be nice to let the nasturtiums run over that log, don't +you? And you must plant these morning-glory seeds around the kitchen +windows." Suddenly she noticed that Alfaretta, instead of listening, was +gazing down the road, and her round freckled face flushing hotly.</p> + +<p>"He sha'n't come in," she muttered,—"he sha'n't come in!" and dropping +the hammer, and the box of tacks, and the big ball of twine, she hurried +to the gate, her rough hands clinched into two sturdy fists.</p> + +<p>Helen looked towards the road, and saw Mr. Dean come stiffly up to the +gate, for lumbago was not altogether a memory. Alfaretta reached it as he +did, and as she stooped to lean her elbows on its top bar she slipped the +latch inside.</p> + +<p>"Alfaretta," said her father pompously, "open the gate, if you please." +As he spoke, he rapped upon it with his heavy stick, and the little latch +clattered and shook.</p> + +<p>"Were you coming to see me, pa?" the girl asked nervously. "I—I'm busy +this morning. It's my night out, so I'll see you this evenin'."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll see you," returned Mr. Dean significantly, "but not now. I +didn't come to see you now; I'm here to see the preacher, Alfaretta. +Come, don't keep me out here in the sun," he added impatiently, shaking +the gate again.</p> + +<p>"I guess he's too busy to see you this morning,—he's awful busy."</p> + +<p>"I guess he's not too busy to see me," said the elder.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta's face was white now, but she still stood barring the gateway. +"Well, you can't see him, anyhow;" her voice had begun to tremble, and +Mrs. Ward, who had joined them, said, with a surprised look,—</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean, Alfaretta? Of course Mr. Ward will see your +father. I hope your lumbago is better, Elder Dean?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean did not notice her question. "Certainly he will see me. Come, +now, open the gate; be spry."</p> + +<p>"You can't see him!" cried Alfaretta, bursting into tears. "I say he +won't see you, so there!"</p> + +<p>Her mistress looked at her in astonishment, but her father put his big +hand over the gate, and, wrenching the little latch open, strode up to +the front door of the parsonage.</p> + +<p>Helen and her maid looked at each other; Alfaretta's face working +convulsively to keep back the tears, and her mistress's eyes full of +disapproval.</p> + +<p>"Why did you say that, Alfaretta?" she said. "It was not true; you knew +Mr. Ward could see your father." Then she turned back to her planting.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta followed her, and, kneeling down by the border, began to grub +at the intruding blades of grass, stopping to put her hand up to her eyes +once in a while, which made her face singularly streaked and muddy.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Alfaretta?" Helen asked, at last, coldly. She did +not mean to be unkind, but she was troubled at the girl's untruthfulness.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta wailed.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," Helen said, putting her hand lightly on her shoulder. "Are you +crying because you said what was not true?"</p> + +<p>"'T ain't that!" sobbed Alfaretta.</p> + +<p>"I wish, then, you would either stop, or go into the house." Helen's +voice was stern, and Alfaretta looked at her with reproachful eyes; then +covering her face with her hands, she rocked backwards and forwards, and +wept without restraint.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid—I'm afraid he's going to take me away from here!"</p> + +<p>"Take you away?" Helen said, surprised. "Why? Is the work too hard?"</p> + +<p>"No—no ma'am," Alfaretta answered, choking.</p> + +<p>"I'll go and see him at once," Helen said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" Alfaretta cried, catching her mistress's skirt with grimy +hands, "don't go; 't won't do any good."</p> + +<p>"Don't be foolish," Helen remonstrated, smiling; "of course I must speak +to him. If your father thinks there is too much work, he must tell me, +and I will arrange it differently."</p> + +<p>She stooped, and took the hem of her cambric gown from between the girl's +fingers, and then went quickly into the house.</p> + +<p>She rapped lightly at the study door. "John, I must come in a moment, +please."</p> + +<p>She heard a chair pushed back, and John's footstep upon the floor. He +opened the door, and stood looking at her with strange, unseeing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Go away, Helen," he said hoarsely, without waiting for her to speak, for +she was dumb with astonishment at his face,—"go away, my darling."</p> + +<p>He put out one hand as if to push her back, and closed the door, and she +heard the bolt pushed. She stood a moment staring at the blank of the +locked door. What could it mean? Alfaretta's misery and morals were +forgotten; something troubled John,—she had no thought for anything +else. She turned away as though in a dream, and began absently to take +off her garden hat. John was in some distress. She went up-stairs to her +bedroom, and tried to keep busy with sewing until she could go to him, +but she was almost unconscious of what she did. How long, how very long, +the morning was!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>John had looked up from his writing to see Mr. Dean standing in the +doorway.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," he said cordially, as he rose to give his hand to his +elder. "I am glad to see you. How have things gone since I have been +away?"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Dean seemed to have nothing special to report, and let the +preacher tell him of General Assembly, while, embarrassed and very +uncomfortable, he sat twisting his hat round and round in his big, +rough hands.</p> + +<p>A bar of sunshine from the south window crept across the floor, and +touched the low dish of violets on the table, and then John's face, +making a sudden golden glint in his gentle dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ward," the elder said, at last, opening his mouth once or twice +before he began to speak, "I have a distress on my mind. I think the +Spirit of the Lord's driven me to tell you of it."</p> + +<p>"Are you in any trouble, my friend?" The tired look which had fallen upon +John's face as he put down his pen was gone in a moment. "I am glad, +then, I was not away any longer. I trust sickness has not come to your +family?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," answered the other solemnly, "not sickness of body. What does +the Good Book say to the Christian? 'He shall give his angels charge over +thee.' No, I'm mercifully preserved from sickness; for, as for me and my +house, we serve the Lord. My lumbago was bad while you was away; but it's +better, I'm thankful to say. Sickness of the soul, Mr. Ward,—that is +what is truly awful."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not feeling the power of Satan in doubts?" John said +anxiously. "Such sickness of the soul is indeed worse than any which can +come to the body."</p> + +<p>"No," replied the elder, "no, my feet are fixed. I know whom I have +believed. I have entered into the hidden things of God. I am not afraid +of doubt, ever. Yet what a fearful thing doubt is, Brother Ward!"</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed," John replied humbly. "Through the mercy of God, I have +never known its temptation. He has kept me from ever questioning truth."</p> + +<p>"What a terrible thing it would be," said Mr. Dean, beginning to forget +his awkwardness, "if doubt was to grow up in any heart, or in any family, +or in any church! I've sometimes wondered if, of late, you had given us +enough sound doctrine in the pulpit, sir? The milk of the Word we can get +out of the Bible for ourselves, but doctrines, they ain't to be found in +Holy Writ as they'd ought to be preached."</p> + +<p>John looked troubled. He knew the rebuke was merited. "I have feared +my sermons were, as you say, scarcely doctrinal enough. Yet I have +instructed you these six years in points of faith, and I felt it was +perhaps wiser to turn more to the tenderness of God as it is in Christ. +And I cannot agree with you that the doctrines are not in the Bible, Mr. +Dean."</p> + +<p>"Well," the elder admitted, "of course. But not so he that runs may read, +or that the wayfaring man will not err therein. There is some folks as +would take 'God is love' out of the Good Book, and forget 'Our God is a +consuming fire.'"</p> + +<p>John bent his head on his hand for a moment, and drove his mind back to +his old arguments for silence. Neither of the men spoke for a little +while, and then John said, still without raising his head:—</p> + +<p>"Do you feel that this—neglect of mine has been of injury to any soul? +It is your duty to tell me."</p> + +<p>It was here that Helen's knock came, and when John had taken his seat +again he looked his accuser straight in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered the elder, "I can't say. I ain't heard that it has—and +yet—I'm fearful. Yet I didn't come to reproach you for that. You have +your reasons for doing as you did, no doubt. But what I did come to do, +preacher, was to warn you that there was a creepin' evil in the church; +and we need strong doctrine now, if we ain't before. And I came the +quicker to tell you, sir, because it's fastened on my own household. Yes, +on my own child!"</p> + +<p>"Your own child?" John said. "You have nothing to fear for Alfaretta; she +is a very good, steady girl."</p> + +<p>"She's good enough and she's steady enough," returned Mr. Dean, shaking +his head; "and oh, Mr. Ward, when she joined the church, two years ago, +there wasn't anybody (joinin' on profession) better grounded in the faith +than she was. She knew her catechism through and through, and she never +asked a question or had a doubt about it in her life. But now,—now it's +different!"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," John asked, "that her faith is shaken,—that she has +doubts? Such times are apt to come to very young Christians, though they +are conscious of no insincerity, and the doubts are but superficial. Has +she such doubts?"</p> + +<p>"She has, sir, she has," cried the elder, "and it breaks my heart to see +my child given over to the Evil One!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," John said tenderly; "if she is one of the elect,—and we have +reason to hope she is,—she will persevere. Remember, for your comfort, +the perseverance of the saints. But how has this come about? Is it +through any influence?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, it is," said the elder quickly.</p> + +<p>"What is the especial doubt?" John asked.</p> + +<p>"It is her views of hell that distress me," answered the elder. John +looked absently beyond him, with eyes which saw, not Alfaretta, but +Helen.</p> + +<p>"That is very serious," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"'T ain't natural to her," protested the elder. "She was grounded on +hell; she's been taught better. It's the influence she's been under, +preacher."</p> + +<p>"Surely it cannot be any one in our church," John said thoughtfully. "I +can think of too many who are weak in grace and good works, but none who +doubt the faith."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the elder, "yes, it is in our church. That's why I came to +beg you to teach sound doctrine, especially the doctrine of everlasting +punishment. I could a' dealt with Alfaretta myself, and I'll bring her +round, you can depend on that; but it is for the church I'm askin' you, +and fer that person that's unsettled Alfaretta. Convert her, save her. It +is a woman, sir, a member (by letter, Brother Ward) of our church, and +she's spreadin' nets of eternal ruin for our youth, and I came to say she +ought to be dealt with; the Session ought to take notice of it. The +elders have been speakin' of it while you was away; and we don't see +no way out of it, for her own soul's sake,—let alone other people's +souls,—than to bring her before the Session. If we can't convert her +to truth, leastways she'll be disciplined to silence."</p> + +<p>That subtile distinction which John Ward had made between his love and +his life was never more apparent than now. Though his elder's words +brought him the keenest consciousness of his wife's unbelief, he never +for an instant thought of her as the person whose influence in the church +was to be feared. His church and his wife were too absolutely separate +for such identification to be possible.</p> + +<p>"And," Mr. Dean added, his metallic voice involuntarily softening, "our +feelings, Mr. Ward, mustn't interfere with it; they mustn't make us +unkind to her soul by slightin' her best good."</p> + +<p>"No," John said, still absently, and scarcely listening to his +elder,—"no, of course not. But have you seen her, and talked with her, +and tried to lead her to the truth? That should be done with the +tenderest patience before anything so extreme as Sessioning."</p> + +<p>"We ain't," the elder answered significantly, "but I make no doubt she's +been reasoned with and prayed with."</p> + +<p>"Why, I have not spoken to her," John said, bewildered; "but you have not +told me who it is, yet."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ward," said the other solemnly, "if you ain't spoke to her, you've +neglected your duty; and if you don't give her poor soul a chance of +salvation by bringing her to the Session, you are neglectin' your duty +still more. Your church, sir, and the everlastin' happiness of her soul +demand that this disease of unbelief should be rooted out. Yes, Brother +Ward, if the Jonah in a church was our nearest and dearest—and it don't +make no odds—the ship should be saved!"</p> + +<p>They both rose; a terrible look was dawning in John Ward's face, and, +seeing it, the elder's voice sunk to a hurried whisper as he spoke the +last words.</p> + +<p>"Who is this woman?" the preacher said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Sir—sir"—the elder cried, backing towards the door and raising his +hands in front of him, "don't look so,—don't look so, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Who?" demanded the other.</p> + +<p>"I spoke fer the sake of Alfaretta's soul, and fer the sake of them +that's heard her say them things about Tom Davis, provin' there wasn't +any punishment for sinners. Don't look so, preacher!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me her name!"</p> + +<p>"Her name—her name? Oh, you know it, sir, you know it—it's—your wife, +preacher."</p> + +<p>John Ward sprang at the cowering figure of the big elder, and clinched +his trembling hands on the man's shoulders, with an inarticulate cry.</p> + +<p>"My wife!" he said, between his teeth. "How dare you speak her name!" He +stopped, struggling for breath.</p> + +<p>"My duty!" gasped the elder, trying to loosen the trembling fingers—"to +her—an' you—an' the church you've starved and neglected, Brother Ward!"</p> + +<p>John blenched. Mr. Dean saw his advantage. "You know your vows when you +were ordained here six years ago: do you keep them? Do you feed your +people with spiritual food, or will you neglect them for your wife's +sake, and let her example send the souls in your care to endless ruin?"</p> + +<p>John had loosened his hold on the elder, and was leaning against the +wall, his head bowed upon his breast and his hands knotted together. A +passion of horrified grief swept across his face; he seemed unconscious +of the elder's presence. Mr. Dean looked at him, not certain what to do +or say; he had quite forgotten Alfaretta's "notice." At last the preacher +raised his head.</p> + +<p>"You have said enough," he said, in a low voice; "now go," and he pointed +with a shaking finger to the door. "Go!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>The elder hesitated, then slowly put on his hat and stumbled from the +room. John did not notice his outstretched hand, but followed him blindly +to the door, and locked it after him.</p> + +<p>The full blaze of sunshine flooded the room with its pitiless mirth; it +was wilting the dish of violets, and he moved it to the shaded end of the +table.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Alfaretta, peering out of her attic window, and wiping her eyes on the +corner of the dimity curtain which hid her, saw the elder walk out of the +parsonage and through the little gateway, with shame written on his +drooping shoulders and in his hurried, shambling steps. He never once +looked back.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p>Almost before Elder Dean had left the threshold Helen stood at the bolted +door. She turned the knob gently while she knocked.</p> + +<p>"John," she said anxiously,—"John, dear!" But there was no answer.</p> + +<p>"John!" she said again, a thread of fear in her voice. "What is the +matter? Are you ill, dearest? Please let me in!"</p> + +<p>Only the rustle of the wind outside and the flickering shadows across the +hall answered her. She shook the door slightly, and then listened. "John, +John!" she called again, and as she heard a long breath inside the closed +room she leaned against the wall, faint with a fright she had not +realized. She heard a slow footstep upon the floor, that stopped on the +other side of the door.</p> + +<p>"Helen," her husband said, in a voice she scarcely knew, "I want to be +alone. I am not ill, but I must be—undisturbed. Will you go away, +please?"</p> + +<p>"Let me in just one moment, darling," she pleaded, still nervously +turning the knob. "I won't disturb you, but it terrifies me to be shut +out in this way. Please let me just see you, and then I will go right +away."</p> + +<p>"No," he answered, "I cannot see you. I do not want to see you, Helen. +I must be alone just now."</p> + +<p>"You are sure you are not ill?" she insisted.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said reluctantly, "I'll go, but call me just as soon as I can +come, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, "but do not come until I do call you."</p> + +<p>She heard him walk back to his study table, and then silence seemed to +fall like a shadow on her heart. She was more bewildered than before. +John was in trouble, and she could not help him. Nevertheless, she did +not speak again; she was one of those unusual women who are content to +wait until the moment it is needed, to give their sympathy or tenderness. +So she went to her own room, and sat wistfully looking out at the sweet +spring day; she could not read while this anxiety filled her mind, and +her hands were idle in her lap. She did not even summon John to luncheon, +knowing he would come if he saw fit; for herself, she could not eat. It +was almost five, when she heard John push his chair back (she was sitting +on the lowest step of the staircase, which ended at the study door, +leaning her head against the frame), and again her ear caught the heavy, +long-drawn sigh. Her suspense was to end.</p> + +<p>She rose, her hands pressed hard together to check their trembling; she +bit her lip lest she might speak and disturb him one moment before he was +ready to hear her.</p> + +<p>He pushed back the bolt, and slowly opened the door and looked at her. +All the words of love and anxiety died on her lips.</p> + +<p>"John," she whispered,—"oh, my dear, what is it?"</p> + +<p>He came out, and, putting his hands on her shoulders, looked down at her +with terrible, unsmiling eyes. "Helen," he said, "I am grieved to have +distressed you so, but it had to be. I had to be alone. I am in much +trouble. No," laying his hand gently on her lips; "listen to me, dearest. +I am in great distress of soul; and just now, just for a few days, I must +bear it alone."</p> + +<p>Helen felt a momentary sense of relief. Distress of soul?—that meant +some spiritual anxiety, and it had not the awfulness to her which a more +tangible trouble, such as sickness, would have.</p> + +<p>"What is it, John? Tell me," she said, looking at him with overflowing +love, but without an understanding sympathy; it was more that feeling +which belongs to strong women, of maternal tenderness for the men they +love, quite apart from an intellectual appreciation of their trouble.</p> + +<p>John shook his head. "I must bear it alone, Helen. Do not ask me what it +is; I cannot tell you yet."</p> + +<p>"You cannot tell me? Oh, John, your sorrow belongs to me; don't shut me +out; tell me, dear, and let me help you."</p> + +<p>"You cannot help me," he answered wearily; "only trust me when I say it +is best for me not to tell you now; you shall know all there is to know, +later. Be patient just a few days,—until after the Sabbath. Oh, bear +with me,—I am in great sorrow, Helen; help me with silence."</p> + +<p>She put her arms around him, and in her caressing voice, with that deep +note in it, she said, "It shall be just as you say, darling. I won't ask +you another question, but I'm ready to hear whenever you want to tell +me."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with haggard eyes, but did not answer. Then she drew +him out into the fresh coolness of the garden, and tried to bring some +brightness into his face by talking of small household happenings, and +how she had missed him during his two weeks' absence, and what plans she +had for the next week. But no smile touched his white lips, or banished +the absent look in his eyes. After tea, during which his silence had not +been broken, he turned to go into his study.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are not going to work to-night?" Helen cried. "Don't leave me +alone again!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her with sudden wistfulness. "I—I must," he said, his voice +so changed it gave her a shock of pain. "I must work on my sermon."</p> + +<p>"I thought you had written it," she said; "and you are so tired—do wait +until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to use the sermon I prepared," he answered. "I have +decided to preach more directly on foreign missions. You know I exchange +with Mr. Grier, of Chester, on the Sabbath; and he will preach to our +church on the attitude of Assembly towards missions. I had intended to +give a more general sermon to his people, but—I have decided otherwise."</p> + +<p>Helen was surprised at so long an explanation; John's sermons were +generally ignored by both, but for different reasons. She followed him +into the study, and when she had lighted his lamp he kissed her, saying +softly, "May God bless you, Helen," and then he shut her gently from the +room.</p> + +<p>"Don't lock the door, John," she had said. "I won't come in, but don't +lock it." Her lip almost trembled as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"No,—no," he said tenderly. "Oh, Helen, I have made you suffer!"</p> + +<p>She was quick to protect him. "No, I was only lonely; but you won't lock +it?"</p> + +<p>He did not, but poor Helen wandered forlornly about the darkened house, +an indefinable dread chasing away the relief which had come when her +husband spoke of spiritual trouble; she was glad, for the mere humanness +of it, to hear Thaddeus and Alfaretta talking in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>The next day, and the next, dragged slowly by. When John was not at his +writing-table, he was making those pastoral calls which took so much time +and strength, and which Helen always felt were unnecessary. Once, seeing +her standing leaning her forehead against the window and looking out +sadly into the rainy garden, he came up to her and took her in his arms, +holding her silently to his heart. That cheered and lightened her, and +somehow, when Sunday morning dawned, full of the freshness of the past +rain and the present wind and sunshine, she felt the gloom of the last +three days lifting a little. True, there was the unknown sorrow in her +heart, but love was there, too. She was almost happy, without knowing it.</p> + +<p>They were to go on horseback, for Chester was eight miles off, and the +thought of a ride in this sparkling mountain air brought a glow to her +cheek, which had been pale the last few days. They started early. The sun +seemed to tip the great green bowl of the valley, and make every leaf +shine and glisten; the road wound among the circling hills, which were +dark with sombre pines, lightened here and there by the fresh greenness +of ash or chestnuts; in some places the horse's hoofs made a velvety +sound on the fallen catkins. A brook followed their path, whispering and +chattering, or hiding away under overhanging bushes, and then laughing +sharply out into the sunshine again. The wind was fresh and fickle; +sometimes twisting the weeds and flowers at the wayside, or sending a +dash of last night's raindrops into their faces from the low branches +of the trees, and all the while making cloud shadows scud over the +fresh-ploughed fields, and up and across the blue, distant hills.</p> + +<p>John rested his hand on her bridle, as she stroked her horse's mane. "How +the wind has blown your hair from under your hat!" he said.</p> + +<p>She put her gauntleted hand up to smooth it.</p> + +<p>"Don't," he said, "it's so pretty; it looks like little tendrils that +have caught the sun."</p> + +<p>Helen laughed, and then looked at him anxiously; the sunshine brought out +the worn lines in his face. "You work too hard, dearest; it worries me."</p> + +<p>"I have never worked at all!" he cried, with a sudden passion of pain in +his voice. "Oh, my wasted life, Helen,—my life that has wronged and +cheated you!"</p> + +<p>"John!" she said, almost frightened. Yet it was characteristic that she +should think this was only a symptom of overwork and bodily weariness. +And when at last they reached the church in Chester, and John lifted her +from her saddle, the anxiety had come again, and all the joy of the +summer morning had left her face. They fastened their horses to one of +the big chestnuts which stood in a stately row in front of the little +white church, and then Helen went inside, and found a seat by one of the +open windows; she secretly pushed the long inside shutter, with its drab +slats turned down, half-way open, so that she might look out across the +burying-ground, where the high blossoming grass nodded and waved over the +sunken graves.</p> + +<p>John had followed her, and folded a coat over the back of the pew. He +gave her a long, yearning look, but did not speak. Then he turned, and +walked slowly up the aisle, with reverently bent head.</p> + +<p>At the first hymn the congregation turned and faced the choir. Helen, +with the shadows of the leaves playing across her hymn-book, leaned +against the high back of the pew behind her, and sang in a strong, sweet +voice, rejoicing in the rolling old tune of "Greenland's icy mountains." +She could see the distant line of the hills, and now and then between the +branches of the trees would come the flash and ripple of the brown river; +and through the open door, which made a frame for the leaves and sky, she +caught sight of the row of horses pounding and switching under the +chestnuts, and those backsliders outside, who found it necessary to "see +to the beasts" rather than attend their religious privileges. But there +were not very many of these, for Mr. Ward's fame as a preacher had spread +through all the villages near Lockhaven.</p> + +<p>Helen, watching John while he read the chapter from the Bible, thought +anxiously how tired and worn his face looked, and so thinking, and +looking out into the dancing leaves, the short prayer, and the long +prayer, and the hymn before the sermon passed, and she scarcely heard +them. Then came the rustle of preparation for listening. The men shuffled +about in their seats, and crossed their legs; the women settled their +bonnet-strings, and gave the little children a peppermint drop, and the +larger children a hymn-book to read. There were the usual rustling and +whispering in the choir, and the creaking footsteps of the one or two who +entered shamefacedly, as though they would explain that the horses had +detained them. Then the church was very still.</p> + +<p>John Ward rose, and spread his manuscript out upon the velvet cushion of +the white pulpit.</p> + +<p>"You will find my text," he said, "in the sixth chapter of Romans, the +twenty-first verse: 'The end of those things is death.'"</p> + +<p>It had been announced that his sermon was to be upon foreign missions, +and the people waited patiently while the preacher briefly told them what +had been accomplished by the Presbyterian Church during the last year, +and, describing its methods of work, showed what it proposed to do in the +future.</p> + +<p>"That's just a-tunin' up,—he'll set the heathen dancin' pretty soon; you +see!" some one whispered behind Helen; and then there was a giggle and +"hush-sh," as Mr. Ward began to say that foreign missions were inevitable +wherever the sentiment of pity found room in a human heart, because the +guilt of those in the darkness of unbelief, without God, without hope, +would certainly doom them to eternal misery; and this was a thought so +dark and awful, men could not go their way, one to his farm, and another +to his merchandise, and leave them to perish.</p> + +<p>The simple and unquestioning conviction with which the preacher began to +prove to his congregation that the heathen were guilty, because Adam, +their federal head and representative, had sinned, perhaps hid from them +the cruelty with which he credited the Deity. No one thought of disputing +his statement that the wrath of God rested upon all unconverted souls, +and that it would, unless they burst from their darkness into the +glorious light of revealed truth, sink them to hell.</p> + +<p>Some of the older Christians nodded their heads comfortably at this, and +looked keenly at the sinners of their own families, trusting that they +would be awakened to their danger by these trumpet bursts of doctrine. To +such hearers, it was unnecessary that John Ward should insist upon the +worthlessness of natural religion, begging them remember that for these +heathen, as well as for more favored souls, Christ's was the only name +given under heaven whereby men might be saved, and appealing to God's +people, as custodians of the mercies of Christ, to stretch their hands +out into the darkness to these blind, stumbling, doomed brothers. He bade +them be quick to answer that cry of "Come and help us!" and to listen for +that deeper voice beneath the wail of despair, which said, "Inasmuch as +ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done +it unto me."</p> + +<p>The possibility of being saved without a knowledge of Christ remained, +he said, after eighteen hundred years, a possibility illustrated by no +example; and we could only stand in the shadow of this terrible fact, +knowing that millions and millions of souls were living without the +gospel, the only source of life, and dying without hope, and pray God for +the spirit and the means to help them.</p> + +<p>Link by link he lengthened the chain of logic till it reached to the +deepest hell. He showed how blasphemous was the cry that men must be +saved, if for lack of opportunity they knew not Christ; that God would +not damn the soul that had had no chance to accept salvation. It had had +the chance of salvation in Adam, and had lost it, and was therefore +condemned. To the preacher this punishment of the helpless heathen seemed +only just.</p> + +<p>"Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" he cried, and he stopped +to suppose, for the sake of argument, that Adam had not sinned: surely no +one would have disputed the justice of receiving the blessings which his +godliness would have entailed. Then he began to prove the right of the +potter over the clay. He had forgotten his congregation; the horror of +the damnation of the heathen was lost in the fear that one soul should +perish. He saw only Helen; she was in danger, she was far from God, but +yet the price of admission to heaven could not be altered, though his +heart broke for longing that she should be saved; the requirements of the +gospel had not softened, the decrees of Omnipotence were as unchangeable +as the eternal past.</p> + +<p>His words, glowing with his love and grief, were only for her. The +thunders of God's justice shook his soul, while he offered her the +infinite mercy of Christ. But he did not shrink from acknowledging that +that mercy was only for those who would accept it, nor presume to dictate +to God that all sinners should be saved, forced into salvation, without +accepting his conditions.</p> + +<p>"What right," he said, "have we to expect that mercy should exist at all? +What madness, then, to think He will depart from the course He has laid +out for himself, and save without condition those who are justly +condemned? Yet justice is satisfied, for Christ has died. O Soul, accept +that sacrifice!" He had come to the edge of the pulpit, one pale hand +clinched upon the heavy cover of the Bible, and the other stretched +tremblingly out; his anxious, grieving eyes looked over the solemn, +upturned faces of his listeners, and sought Helen, sitting in the dusky +shadow by the open window, her face a little averted, and her firm, sweet +lips set in a line which was almost stern.</p> + +<p>Some of the women were crying: an exaltation purely hysterical made them +feel themselves lost sinners; they thrilled at John's voice, as though +his words touched some strained chord in their placid and virtuous lives.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "stand with me to-day under the pierced hands and +bleeding side of Infinite Mercy; look up into that face of divine +compassion and ineffable tenderness, and know that this blood-stained +cross proclaims to all the centuries death suffered for the sin of the +world,—for your sin and mine. Can you turn and go away to outer +darkness, to wander through the shadows of eternity, away from God, away +from hope, away from love? Oh, come, while still those arms are open to +you; come, before the day of grace has darkened into night; come, before +relentless Justice bars the way with a flaming sword. O Soul, Christ +waits!"</p> + +<p>He stood a moment, leaning forward, his hands clasped upon the big Bible, +and his face full of trembling and passionate pleading. Then he said, +with a long, indrawn breath, "Let us pray!"</p> + +<p>The people rose, and stood with bowed heads through the short, eager, +earnest prayer. Then the preacher gave out the hymn, and there was the +rustle of turning to face the choir. The quaint, doleful tune of Windham +wailed and sobbed through the words,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The burden of our weighty guilt<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Would sink us down to flames;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And threatening vengeance rolls above,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To crush our feeble frames!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The choir sang with cheerful heartiness; it was a relief from the tension +of the sermon, a reaction to life, and hope, and healthy humanness after +these shadows of death. It all seemed part of a dream to Helen: the two +happy-faced girls standing in the choir, with bunches of apple-blossoms +in the belts of their fresh calico dresses, and the three young farmers +who held the green singing-books open, all singing heartily together,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tis boundless, 'tis amazing love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bears us up from hell!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Helen watched them with fascinated curiosity; she wondered if they could +believe what they had just heard. Surely not; or how could they know a +moment's happiness, or even live!</p> + +<p>After the benediction had been pronounced she walked absently down the +aisle, and went at once to her horse under the flickering shadows of the +chestnuts. Here she waited for John, one hand twisted in the gray's mane, +and with the other switching at the tall grass with her riding-whip. Only +a few of the people knew her, but these came to speak of the sermon. One +woman peered at her curiously from under her big shaker bonnet. The +stories of Mr. Ward's wife's unbelief had traveled out from Lockhaven. +"Wonderful how some folks could stand against such doctrine!" she said; +"and yet they must know it's a sin not to believe in everlasting +punishment. I believe it's a mortal sin, don't you, Mrs. Ward?"</p> + +<p>"No," Helen said quietly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>They rode quite silently to the house of the minister with whom John had +exchanged, where they were to dine; after that, the preacher was to go +back to the church for the afternoon sermon.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grier, a spare, anxious-looking woman, with a tight friz of hair +about her temples which were thin and shining, met them at the door. She +had hurried home to "see to things," and be ready to welcome her guests. +John she ushered at once into her husband's study, a poor little room, +with even fewer books than Mr. Ward's own, while Helen she took to the +spare chamber, where she had thoughtfully provided a cambric dress for +her, for the day had grown very warm, and the riding-habit was heavy.</p> + +<p>She sat down in a splint rocking-chair, and watched her guest brush out +her length of shining bronze hair, and twist it in a firm coil low on her +neck.</p> + +<p>"It was a good gathering," she said; "people came from a distance to +hear Mr. Ward. The folks at Lockhaven are favored to listen to such +preaching."</p> + +<p>"No doubt they feel favored to have Mr. Grier with them to-day," Helen +answered, courteously; but there was an absent look in her eyes, and she +did not listen closely.</p> + +<p>"Well, people like a change once in a while," Mrs. Grier admitted, +rocking hard. "Mr. Grier's discourse was to be on the same subject as +your husband's, foreign missions. It is one that moves the preachers, and +the people seem to like it, I notice, though I don't know that it makes +much difference in the collections. But I think they like to get all +harrowed up. You'll find there won't be such an attendance in the +afternoon. It is ways and means, then, you know. Yes, seems as if sermons +on hell made them shiver, and they enjoyed it. I've sometimes thought—I +don't know as I'm right—they get the same kind of pleasure out of it +that worldly people do out of a play. Not that I know much about such +things, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>Helen smiled, which rather shocked Mrs. Grier; but though the guest +scarcely listened, the little sharp babble of talk was kept up, until +they went down to dinner.</p> + +<p>There had been no chance for the husband and wife to speak to each other. +John looked at Helen steadily a moment, but her eyes veiled any thought. +In the midst of Mrs. Grier's chatter, she had gone into the solitude of +her own heart, and slowly and silently light was beginning to shine into +the mysterious darkness of the last few days. John's grief must have had +something to do with this terrible sermon. She felt her heart leap up +from the past anxiety like a bird from a net, and the brooding sadness +began to fade from her face. The preacher had come down from the pulpit +with a certain exhilaration, as of duty done. He was inspired to hope, +and even certainty, by the greatness of the theme. Helen should see the +truth, his silence should no longer mislead her, she should believe in +the justice of God. He had forgotten his sin of cowardice in the +onward-sweeping wave of his convictions; he seemed to yield himself up to +the grasp of truth, and lost even personal remorse in the contemplation +of its majesty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grier had four noisy children, who all spoke at once, and needed +their mother's constant care and attention, so John and Helen could at +least be silent; yet it was hard to sit through the dinner when their +hearts were impatient for each other.</p> + +<p>In a little breathing space at the end of the meal, when two of the +children had clambered down from their high chairs and been dismissed, +Mrs. Grier began to speak of the sermon.</p> + +<p>"It was a wonderful discourse, sir," she said; "seems as if nobody could +stand against such doctrine as you gave us. I could have wished, though, +you'd have told us your thoughts about infants being lost. There is a +difference of opinion between Mr. Grier and two of our elders."</p> + +<p>"What does Brother Grier hold?" asked the preacher.</p> + +<p>"Well," Mrs. Grier answered, shaking her head, "he does say they are all +saved. But the elders, they say that the confession of faith teaches that +elect infants are saved, and of course it follows that those not elect +are lost. My father, Mr. Ward, was a real old-fashioned Christian, and I +must say that was what I was taught to believe, and I hold by it. There +now, Ellen, you take your little sister and go out into the garden, like +a good girl."</p> + +<p>She lifted the baby down from her chair, and put her hand into that of +her elder sister.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Grier," Helen said, speaking quickly, "you say you believe it, but +if you had ever lost a child, I am sure you could not."</p> + +<p>"I have, ma'am,"—Mrs. Grier's thin lip quivered, and her eyes reddened +a little,—"but that can't make any difference in truth; besides, we have +the blessed hope that she was an elect infant."</p> + +<p>It would have been cruel to press the reason for this hope, and Helen +listened instead with a breath of relief to what John was saying,—he, at +least, did not hold this horrible doctrine.</p> + +<p>"No, I agree with your husband," he said. "True, all children are born in +sin, and are despised and abhorred as sinners by God. Jonathan Edwards, +you know, calls them 'vipers,' which of course was a crude and cruel way +of stating the truth, that they are sinners. Yet, through the infinite +mercy, they are saved because Christ died, not of themselves; in other +words, all infants who die, are elect."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grier shook her head. "I'm for holding to the catechism," she said; +and then, with a sharp, thin laugh, she added, "But you're sound on the +heathen, I must say."</p> + +<p>Helen shivered, and it did not escape her hostess, who turned and looked +at her with interested curiosity. She, too, had heard the Lockhaven +rumors.</p> + +<p>"But then," she proceeded, "I don't see how a parson can help being sound +on that, though it is surprising what people will doubt, even the things +that are plainest to other people. I've many a time heard my father say +that the proper holding of the doctrine of reprobation was necessary to +eternal life. I suppose you believe that, Mr. Ward," she added, with a +little toss of her head, "even if you don't go all the way with the +confession, about infants?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," John said sadly, "I must; because not to believe in reprobation is +to say that the sacrifice of the cross was a useless offering."</p> + +<p>"And of course," Mrs. Grier went on, an edge of sarcasm cutting into her +voice, "Mrs. Ward thinks so, too? Of course she thinks that a belief in +hell is necessary to get to heaven?"</p> + +<p>The preacher looked at his wife with a growing anxiety in his face.</p> + +<p>"No," Helen said, "I do not think so, Mrs. Grier."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grier flung up her little thin hands, which looked like bird-claws. +"You <i>don't</i>!" she cried shrilly. "Well, now, I do say! And what do you +think about the heathen, then? Do you think they'll be damned?"</p> + +<p>"No," Helen said again.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grier gave a gurgle of astonishment, and looked at Mr. Ward, but he +did not speak.</p> + +<p>"Well," she exclaimed, "if I didn't think the heathen would be lost, I +wouldn't see the use of the plan of salvation! Why, they've got to be!"</p> + +<p>"If they had to be," cried Helen, with sudden passion, "I should want to +be a heathen. I should be ashamed to be saved, if there were so many +lost." She stopped; the anguish in John's face silenced her.</p> + +<p>"Well," Mrs. Grier said again, really enjoying the scene, "<i>I'm</i> +surprised; I wouldn't a' believed it!"</p> + +<p>She folded her hands across her waist, and looked at Mrs. Ward with keen +interest. Helen's face flushed under the contemptuous curiosity in the +woman's eyes; she turned appealingly to John.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ward does not think quite as we do, yet," he said gently; "you know +she has not been a Presbyterian as long as we have."</p> + +<p>He rose as he spoke, and came and stood by Helen's chair, and then walked +at her side into the parlor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grier had followed them, and heard Helen say in a low voice, "I +would rather not go to church this afternoon, dearest. May I wait for you +here?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she broke in, "I shouldn't suppose you would care to go, so long +as it's just about the ways and means of sending the gospel to the +heathen, and you think they're all going right to heaven, any way."</p> + +<p>"I do not know where they are going, Mrs. Grier," Helen said wearily; +"for all I know, there is no heaven, either. I only know that God—if +there is a God who has any personal care for us—could not be so wicked +and cruel as to punish people for what they could not help."</p> + +<p>"Good land!" cried Mrs. Grier, really frightened at such words, and +looking about as though she expected a judgment as immediate as the bears +which devoured the scoffing children.</p> + +<p>"If you would rather not go," John answered, "if you are tired, wait for +me here. I am sure Mrs. Grier will let you lie down and rest until it is +time to start for home?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," responded Mrs. Grier, foreseeing a chance for further +investigation, for she, too, was to be at home.</p> + +<p>But Helen did not invite her to come into the spare room, when she went +to lie down, after John's departure for church. She wanted to be alone. +She had much to think of, much to reconcile and explain, to protect +herself from the unhappiness which John's sermon might have caused her. +She had had an unmistakable shock of pain and distress as she realized +her husband's belief, and to feel even that seemed unloving and disloyal. +To Helen's mind, if she disapproved of her husband's opinions on what to +her was an unimportant subject, her first duty was to banish the thought, +and forget that she had ever had it. She sat now by the open window, +looking out over the bright garden to the distant peaceful hills, and by +degrees the pain of it began to fade from her mind, in thoughts of John +himself, his goodness, and their love. Yes, they loved one another,—that +was enough.</p> + +<p>"What does it matter what his belief is?" she said. "I love him!"</p> + +<p>So, by and by, the content of mere existence unfolded in her heart, and +John's belief was no more to her than a dress of the mind; his character +was unchanged. There was a momentary pang that the characters of others +might be hurt by this teaching of the expediency of virtue, but she +forced the thought back. John, whose whole life was a lesson in the +beauty of holiness—John could not injure any one. The possibility that +he might be right in his creed simply never presented itself to her.</p> + +<p>Helen's face had relaxed into a happy smile; again the day was fair and +the wind sweet. The garden below her was fragrant with growing things and +the smell of damp earth; and while she sat, drinking in its sweetness, a +sudden burst of children's voices reached her ear, and Ellen and the two +little boys came around the corner of the house, and settled down under +the window. A group of lilacs, with feathery purple blossoms, made a +deep, cool shade, where the children sat; and near them was an old +grindstone, streaked with rust, and worn by many summers of sharpening +scythes; a tin dipper hung on the wooden frame, nearly full of last +night's rain, and with some lilac stars floating in the water.</p> + +<p>This was evidently a favorite playground with the children, for under the +frame of the grindstone were some corn-cob houses, and a little row of +broken bits of china, which their simple imagination transformed into +"dishes." But to-day the corn-cob houses and the dishes were untouched.</p> + +<p>"Now, children," Ellen said, "you sit right down, and I'll hear your +catechism."</p> + +<p>"Who'll hear yours?" Bobby asked discontentedly. "When we play school, +you're always teacher, and it's no fun."</p> + +<p>"This isn't playing school," Ellen answered, skillfully evading the first +question. "Don't you know it's wicked to play on the Sabbath? Now sit +right down."</p> + +<p>There was a good deal of her mother's sharpness in the way she said this, +and plucked Bobby by the strings of his pinafore, until he took an +uncomfortable seat upon an inverted flower-pot.</p> + +<p>Ellen opened a little yellow-covered book, and began.</p> + +<p>"Now answer, Jim! How many kinds of sin are there?"</p> + +<p>"Two," responded little Jim.</p> + +<p>"What are these two kinds, Bob?"</p> + +<p>"Original and actual," Bob answered.</p> + +<p>"What is original sin?" asked Ellen, raising one little forefinger to +keep Bobby quiet. This was too hard a question for Jim, and with some +stumbling Bobby succeeded in saying,—</p> + +<p>"It is that sin in which I was conceived and born."</p> + +<p>"Now, Jim," said Ellen, "you can answer this question, 'cause it's only +one word, and begins with 'y.'"</p> + +<p>"No fair!" cried Bob; "that's telling."</p> + +<p>But Ellen proceeded to give the question: "Doth original sin wholly +defile you, and is it sufficient to send you to hell, though you had no +other sin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" roared Jim, pleased at being certainly right.</p> + +<p>"What are you then by nature?" Ellen went on rather carelessly, for she +was growing tired of the lesson.</p> + +<p>"I am an enemy to God, a child of Satan, and an heir of hell," answered +Bobby promptly.</p> + +<p>"What will become of the wicked?" asked the little catechist.</p> + +<p>Bobby yawned, and then said contemptuously, "Oh, skip that,—cast into +hell, of course."</p> + +<p>"You ought to answer right," Ellen said reprovingly, but she was glad to +give the last question, "What will the wicked do forever in hell?"</p> + +<p>"They will roar, curse, and blaspheme God," said little Jim cheerfully; +while Bobby, to show his joy that the lesson was done, leaned over on his +flower-pot, and tried to stand on his head, making all the time an +unearthly noise.</p> + +<p>"I'm roarin'!" he cried gayly.</p> + +<p>Ellen, freed from the responsibility of teaching, put the little yellow +book quickly in her pocket, and said mysteriously, "Boys, if you won't +ever tell, I'll tell you something."</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Jim, while Bobby responded briefly, "G'on."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know when the circus came,—you know the pictures on the +fences?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" said the little boys together.</p> + +<p>"'Member the beautiful lady, ridin' on a horse, and standin' on one +foot?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" the others cried, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Ellen slowly and solemnly, "when I get to be a big girl, +that's what I'm going to be. I'm tired of catechism, and church, and +those long blessings father asks, but most of catechism, so I'm going +to run away, and be a circus."</p> + +<p>"Father'll catch you," said Jim; but Bobby, with envious depreciation, +added,—</p> + +<p>"How do you know but what circuses have catechism?"</p> + +<p>Ellen did not notice the lack of sympathy. "And I'm going to begin to +practice now," she said.</p> + +<p>Then, while her brothers watched her, deeply interested, she took off her +shoes, and in her well-darned little red stockings climbed deliberately +upon the grindstone.</p> + +<p>"This is my horse," she said, balancing herself, with outstretched arms, +on the stone, and making it revolve in a queer, jerky fashion by pressing +her feet on it as though it were a treadmill, "and it is bare-backed!"</p> + +<p>The iron handle came down with a thud, and Ellen lurched to keep from +falling; the boys unwisely broke into cheers.</p> + +<p>It made a pretty picture, the sunbeams sifting through the lilacs on the +little fair heads, and dancing over Ellen's white apron and rosy face; +but Mrs. Grier, who had come to the door at the noise of the cheers, did +not stop to notice it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you naughty children!" she cried. "Don't you know it is wicked to +play on the Sabbath? Ellen's playing circus, do you say, Bobby? You +naughty, naughty girl! Don't you know circus people are all wicked, and +don't go to heaven when they die? I should think you'd be ashamed! Go +right up-stairs, Ellen, and go to bed; and you boys can each learn a +psalm, and you'll have no supper, either,—do you hear?"</p> + +<p>The children began to cry, but Mrs. Grier was firm; and when, a little +later, Helen came down-stairs, ready for her ride, the house was +strangely quiet. Mrs. Grier, really troubled at her children's +sinfulness, confided their misdeeds to Helen, and was not soothed +by the smile that flashed across her face.</p> + +<p>"They were such good children to study their catechism first," she +interceded, "and making a horse out of a grindstone shows an imagination +which might excuse the playing."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Grier was not comforted, and only felt the more convinced of the +lost condition of Mrs. Ward's soul. The conviction of other people's sin +is sometimes a very pleasing emotion, so she bade her guest good-by with +much cordiality and even pulled the skirt of her habit straight, and gave +the gray a lump of sugar.</p> + +<p>Helen told John of the scene under the lilacs, as they trotted down the +lane to the highway, but his mood was too grave to see any humor in it. +Indeed, his frame of mind had changed after he left his wife for his +second sermon. The exhilaration and triumph had gone, and the reaction +had come. He brooded over his sin, and the harassed, distressed look of +the last few days settled down again on his face. But Helen had regained +her sweet serenity and content; she felt so certain that the darkness +since Thursday had been the shadow in which his sermon had been conceived +that her relief brought a joy which obscured any thought of regret that +he should hold such views.</p> + +<p>John's head was bent, and his hands were clasped upon his saddle-bow, +while the reins fell loosely from between his listless fingers.</p> + +<p>"You are so tired, John," Helen said regretfully.</p> + +<p>He sighed, as though rousing himself from thought. "A little, dearest," +and then his sorrowful eyes smiled. "You look so fresh and rested, Helen. +It was wise for you to lie down this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I didn't," she said quickly. "I was busy thinking."</p> + +<p>He looked at her eagerly. "Yes," she continued, "I think I know what has +distressed you so these last few days, dear. It is this thought of the +suffering of mankind. If you have felt that all the heathen who have died +are in hell, I don't wonder at your sorrow. It would be dreadful, and I +wish you did not think it. But we will not talk about it,—of course you +would rather not talk about it, even to me, but I understand."</p> + +<p>She bent forward, and smiled brightly, as she looked at him. But his face +was full of grief.</p> + +<p>"It was not that, Helen," he said; "it was something nearer than that. +It was remorse, because of late, for nearly a year, I have neglected my +people. I have not admonished them and warned them as I ought. And nearer +still, because I have neglected you."</p> + +<p>"Me!" she cried, too much astonished to say more.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, his head bent again upon his breast, "you, my +dearest, my best beloved,—you, who are dearer than my life to me, dearer +than my happiness. I have known that you have been far from truth, that +you have not believed, and yet I—I have been silent."</p> + +<p>Helen looked at him, and the sudden awful thought flashed into her mind +that he did not know what he was saying, and then she said with a gasp: +"Oh, John, is that all? Have you been so unhappy just because of that? +Oh, you poor fellow!"</p> + +<p>She brought her horse close beside his, and laid her hand on his arm. +"Dear, what does it matter what I believe or do not believe? We love each +other. And where is your tolerance, John?" She laughed, but the look of +terrible concern in his face frightened her.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Helen," he said, "such tolerance as you would have me show would be +indifference."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John!" she said, and then began resolutely to speak of other things.</p> + +<p>But soon they fell into silence, Helen longing to get home and brush this +useless and foolish anxiety from her husband's heart, and he agonizing +for his sin towards her and towards his people.</p> + +<p>The late afternoon sunshine gilded the tender green of the fields, and +slanting deep into the darkness of the woods, touched the rough trunks of +the trees with gold. Long shadows stretched across the road, and the +fragrance which steals out with the evening dews began to come from +unseen blossoms, and early clover; and a breath of the uncertain night +wind brought hints of apple orchards or the pungent sweetness of +cherry-blossoms. They had gone more than half-way home when they drew +rein to water their horses, under a whispering pine by the roadside. The +trough, overflowing with sparkling water, was green with moss and lichen, +and was so old and soft that a bunch of ferns had found a home on its +side. The horses thrust their noses down into it, blowing and sputtering +with sheer delight in the coolness. John made a cup of a big beech leaf, +and filled it for his wife. As he handed it to her, they heard steps, and +in a moment more Mr. Grier came around the curve of the road. His horse, +too, was thirsty, and he let the reins fall on its neck while he greeted +them both with formal and ministerial dignity, saying he "wished they +might have tarried until he came home, and perhaps he could have +persuaded them to stay the night."</p> + +<p>The horses pounded and splashed in the pools about their feet, and were +impatient to be off, but Mr. Grier delayed. He spoke of church matters, +and General Assembly, and their respective congregations; and then, with +a little hesitation, he said:—</p> + +<p>"I had almost hoped, Mrs. Ward, that you would have been in Brother +Ward's church to-day, even though Mrs. Grier had much pleasure in seeing +you under our roof. I had you in my mind in the preparation of my +sermon."</p> + +<p>Mr. Grier was a tall, thin man, with watery blue eyes, and a sparse sandy +beard growing like a fringe under his chin from ear to ear. He moved his +jaws nervously as he waited for her answer, and plucked at his beard with +long, lean fingers.</p> + +<p>Helen smiled. "Did you think I should be a large contributor to foreign +missions, Mr. Grier?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," he answered solemnly, "I was not thinking of any benefit to +the heathen. I had somewhat to say which I felt might be for the good of +your own soul."</p> + +<p>Helen flushed, and flung her head back with a haughty look. "Ah,—you are +very good, I'm sure," she said, "but"—</p> + +<p>Mr. Grier interrupted her, wagging his head up and down upon his breast: +"Brother Ward will forgive me for saying so, ma'am, but I had your +welfare at heart. Brother Ward, you have my prayers for your dear wife."</p> + +<p>"I—I thank you," John said, "but you must not feel that my wife is far +from the Lord. Have you been told that the truth is not clear to her +eyes? Yet it will be!"</p> + +<p>"I hope so,—I hope so," responded Mr. Grier, but with very little hope +in his voice; and then, shaking the reins, he jogged on down the shadowy +road.</p> + +<p>"What does he mean?" cried Helen, her voice trembling with anger, and +careless whether the retreating minister overheard her. John gave her a +long, tender look.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," he said, "I am sorry he should have spoken as he did, but the +prayers of a good man"—</p> + +<p>"I don't want his prayers," she interrupted, bewildered; "it seems to me +simply impertinence!"</p> + +<p>"Helen," he said, "it cannot be impertinence to pray for a soul in +danger, as yours is, my darling. I cannot tell how he knew it, but it is +so. It is my sin which has kept you blind and hidden the truth from you, +and how can I be angry if another man joins his prayers to mine for your +eternal salvation?"</p> + +<p>"You say this because I do not believe in eternal punishment, John?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered gently, "first because of that, and then because of +all the errors of belief to which that leads."</p> + +<p>"It all seems so unimportant," she said, sighing; "certainly nothing +which could make me claim the prayers of a stranger. Ah, well, no doubt +he means it kindly, but don't let us speak of it any more, dearest."</p> + +<p>Their horses were so close, that, glancing shyly about for a moment into +the twilight, Helen laid her head against his arm, and looked tenderly +into his face.</p> + +<p>He started, and then put a quick arm about her to keep her from falling. +"No," he said, "no, I will not forget." It was as though he answered some +voice in his soul, and Helen looked at him in troubled wonder.</p> + +<p>The rest of the ride was very silent. Once, when he stopped to tighten +her saddle-girth for her, she bent his head back, and smiled down into +his eyes. He only answered her by a look, but it was enough.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<p>Gifford Woodhouse was not quite honest with himself when he said that he +felt it was time to go back to Ashurst to make his aunts a visit. He had +been restless and absent-minded very often since that flying trip in the +early spring. In spite of his sternest reasoning, hope was beginning to +grow up in his heart again. Dick Forsythe had not come to Ashurst, and +Helen said plainly that she knew Lois was not engaged to him. So why +should not Gifford himself be on the spot?</p> + +<p>"Not that I would bother Lois," he argued in his own mind, "but just to +know if"—And besides, he really ought to see the two little ladies.</p> + +<p>He left Lockhaven a few days after John Ward had preached his sermon on +foreign missions at Chester. It was reported to have been "powerful," +and Elder Dean said he wished "our own people could have been benefited +by it."</p> + +<p>"I thought the heathen were expected to be benefited by such sermons," +Gifford said, twisting a cigarette between his fingers, as he leaned over +the half-door of the elder's shop, lazily watching a long white shaving +curl up under his plane. "I thought the object was a large contribution."</p> + +<p>The elder looked up solemnly, and opened his lips with vast deliberation. +"Lawyer Woodhouse," he said, "that's your mistake. They're fer the +purpose of instructing us that the heathen is damned, so that we will +rejoice in our own salvation, and make haste to accept it if we are +unconverted."</p> + +<p>He looked hard at the young man as he spoke, for every one knew Lawyer +Woodhouse did not go regularly to church, and so, presumably, was not a +Christian.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Dean, while he pulled the shavings out of his plane, and threw +them on the fragrant heap at his feet, said one or two things which made +Gifford stop lounging and forget his cigarette while he listened with a +grave face. "Unbelief in the church," "the example for our youth," "the +heresy of the preacher's wife."</p> + +<p>This was not the first time Gifford had heard such comments, but there +was a threat in Mr. Dean's voice, though he did not put it into words, +which made the young man carry a growing anxiety about Helen away with +him. He could not forget it, even in the rejoicings of his home-coming, +and he gave guarded answers about her which were unlike his usual +frankness.</p> + +<p>Lois noticed it, and wondered a little, but was perhaps more annoyed than +troubled by it.</p> + +<p>The shyness of her welcome Gifford quite misunderstood.</p> + +<p>"After all," he thought, "what was the use of coming? Whatever Forsythe's +chances are, there is one thing sure,—she does not care for me. She used +to have that old friendly way, at least; but even that is gone, now. I +might have known it. I was a fool to run into the fire again. Thank +Heaven, that cad isn't here. When he comes, I'll go!"</p> + +<p>And so he wandered forlornly about, his hands in his pockets, and a +disconsolate look on his face which greatly distressed his aunts. +Somehow, too, the big fellow's presence for any length of time +embarrassed them. They had been so long without a man in the house, they +realized suddenly that he took up a great deal of room, and that their +small subjects of conversation could not interest him.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Miss Ruth shrewdly, "he has found some nice girl in +Lockhaven, and misses her. What do you think, sister?"</p> + +<p>"It is not impossible," answered Miss Deborah; "but, dear me, sister, +if only Helen Jeffrey had not married so young! I always felt that +Providence pointed to her for dear Giff."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Ruth, a little color creeping into her cheek, "I think +Providence does arrange such things, and as Helen seems much attached to +Mr. Ward, no doubt that was meant. It is gratifying to think such things +always are meant. I have even thought that when a person no longer very +young, even quite advanced in life, remains unmarried, it was because the +other, appointed by Heaven, died, no doubt in infancy."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah sniffed. "I should be sorry to think all marriages were +planned by Providence," she said, "for it would seem that Providence +showed very poor judgment sometimes. Look at Henry Dale. I'm sure there +were—<i>others</i>, who would have made him happier, and been quite as good +housekeepers, too."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth mentioned her suspicion of the "nice girl in Lockhaven" to +Lois, while Miss Deborah added that it was really no pleasure to cook for +dear Giff; he was so out of spirits he didn't seem to care for anything; +he did not even eat the whigs, and Lois knew how fond he was of whigs. +Very likely dear Ruth was right.</p> + +<p>This made Lois's interest in Gifford still deeper, though she said, +tossing her head with airy impatience, that she did not believe there +were any nice girls in Lockhaven; there were only working people there. +Then she thought of that talk with Gifford at the stone bench, and +recalled the promise she had made, and how she had sealed it. Her cheeks +burned till they hurt her.</p> + +<p>"He has forgotten it all, long ago," she said to herself; "men never +remember such things. Well, he sha'n't think I remember!"</p> + +<p>But how often Gifford remembered!</p> + +<p>One afternoon he walked over to the stone bench, and sat down on the very +same sunken step from which he had looked up into Lois's face that June +evening. He saw a bunch of violets growing just where her foot must have +rested, and what was more natural—for Gifford was still young—than that +pencil and note-book should appear, and, with a long-drawn sigh, he +should write hastily,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Violet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou forget?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and then stop, perhaps to sharpen his pencil, and, if the truth be told, +to cast about for a rhyme.</p> + +<p>Alas, that love and poetry should be checked by anything so commonplace +as syllables! Let—wet—yet,—one can fit in the sense easily when the +proper rhyme has been decided upon; and who knows but that Gifford, lying +there in the grass, with the old lichen-covered step for a desk, might +have written a sonnet or a madrigal which would have given him his +heart's desire before the moon rose! But an interruption came.</p> + +<p>The rector and Mr. Denner were coming back from fishing, along the road +on the other side of the hedge, and Dr. Howe turned in here to follow the +garden path home, instead of taking the longer way. Both pushed through a +gap in the hedge, and discovered Gifford lying in the grass by the stone +bench.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" said the rector. "Working up a case, young man?"</p> + +<p>Perhaps Gifford was not altogether displeased to be interrupted; the +song we might have sung is always sweetest. At all events, he very +good-naturedly put his note-book back in his pocket, and rolling over on +his stomach, his elbows crushing down the soft grass and his fists under +his chin, began to talk to the two elder men.</p> + +<p>"Had good luck?"</p> + +<p>The rector shook his head ruefully. "Denner has two trout. Fate was +against me. Any fishing about Lockhaven, Gifford? Ward do any?"</p> + +<p>Gifford laughed. "He only fishes for men," he said. "He devotes himself +to it day and night. Especially of late; his fear of hell-fire for other +people's souls has seemed to take great hold on him."</p> + +<p>"Gad!" said Dr. Howe. "He's a queer fellow."</p> + +<p>"He's a good fellow," Gifford answered warmly. "And as to his belief, +why, you believe in hell, don't you, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bless my soul, yes," said Dr. Howe, with a laugh, and with a twinkle +in his eyes. "I must, you know, and it's well to be on the safe side, +Giff; if you believe it here, theoretically, it is to be supposed you +won't believe it there, experimentally!" He laughed again, his big, jolly +laugh. "Good-by, Denner. You took all the luck."</p> + +<p>Then he trudged whistling up the path, striking at the hollyhocks with +his rod, and wondering how long it would take Sally to brush the mud off +his corduroys.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Denner delayed. He laid his rod tenderly down on the grass, and +his fishing-basket on the stone bench beside him. Gifford's sense of +humor padded a good many of the sharp points of life; he had to look less +doleful when he saw that the lawyer had chosen Lois's seat, and even her +attitude; his little shriveled hands were clasped upon his knees, and he +was bending forward, looking at the young man as he talked. Gifford +thought of a sonnet in his left breast-pocket, beginning, "To one who sat +'neath rustling poplar-tree," and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," said Mr. Denner, "it is pleasant to see you at home again, +Gifford. It must be a pleasure to your aunts."</p> + +<p>"It is a great pleasure to me," the young man replied. "I only wish that +I could carry them back to Lockhaven with me."</p> + +<p>"What, both of them?" Mr. Denner asked, in an alarmed way.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," answered the other; "they couldn't be separated. Why, +you cannot think of one of them without thinking of the other!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner sighed. "Just so, just so. I have observed that."</p> + +<p>"But I'm afraid," Gifford went on, "they wouldn't be quite happy there. +There's no church, you know,—I mean no Episcopal Church,—and then it +isn't like Ashurst. Except Helen and Mr. Ward, there are only working +people, though, for that matter, Ward works harder than anybody else. +Yes, they would miss Ashurst too much."</p> + +<p>"You really think they would miss—us?" said Mr. Denner eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Gifford slowly. He was beginning to look at the bunch of +violets again, and his aunts did not seem so interesting.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," Mr. Denner said, "I am sure I am glad to hear you say that, +very glad. We—ah—should miss them, I assure you."</p> + +<p>Gifford reached out and plucked up the violets by the roots, to save them +from Mr. Denner's drab gaiter, and planted them deep in a crevice of the +steps.</p> + +<p>"Ah—Gifford," said the lawyer, after he had waited a reasonable time for +an answer, "a—a friend of mine is in some perplexity concerning an +attachment; he wished my advice."</p> + +<p>Gifford began to look interested.</p> + +<p>"Foreclosure?"</p> + +<p>"You—ah, you do not exactly catch my meaning," answered the little +gentleman nervously. "I refer—he referred to an affair of—of the +affections. Of course you are too young to really understand these +things from a—a romantic point of view, as it were, but being a lawyer, +your—a—legal training—would make you consider such a matter +intelligently, and I might like your advice."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Gifford, seeming to grasp the situation. "Yes; I had one case +of that kind in Lockhaven. Jury gave damages to my client; seems they +had been engaged twelve years when she jilted him. I detest those +breach-of-promise suits; they"—</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner bounded from his seat. "My dear boy, my dear sir," he gasped, +"not at all, not at all! You do not apprehend me, Gifford. My friend is +in love, sir; he wished my advice, not legally, you understand, but in +regard to his choice!"</p> + +<p>"Your advice!" Gifford burst out, but instantly apologized by saying he +believed it was not usual to ask advice in such matters,—a man usually +knew. But perhaps he was mistaken.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I am inclined to think you are," responded Mr. Denner, with a +jauntiness which sat strangely upon his wrinkled face,—"I think you are. +Being still a very young person, Gifford, you scarcely understand the +importance of such matters, and the—ah—wisdom of seeking advice. I +believe it is always said that youth does not realize the importance of +advice. But the fact is, my friend has placed his affections upon two +ladies. They are connections, and both he represents to be estimable +persons; both, as I understand it, equally admirable. Equally, you +observe, Gifford. And he is unable to make up his mind which is the +most—I should say the more—desirable. I, unfortunately, was unable +to throw any light upon the subject."</p> + +<p>"Do you know the young ladies?" asked Gifford.</p> + +<p>"I—I may say I have met them," admitted Mr. Denner.</p> + +<p>"And how did you advise him?" Gifford asked, his face preternaturally +grave.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner looked anxious. "That is just it. I have been unable to come +to any conclusion. I wondered if—if I spoke of their characteristics in +a general way (they are both so truly estimable) you might have an +opinion. He did think he could reach a decision, he tells me, for a +friend of his thought he knew a proverb which would throw a light upon +it."</p> + +<p>"Settle it by a proverb!" cried Gifford.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Mr. Denner firmly, "yes; and an excellent way it would +be, if one could find the proverb."</p> + +<p>The air of offended dignity in Mr. Denner's face sobered Gifford at once.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir," he said; "the method was new to me, though it +is, no doubt, excellent. May I ask the proverb?"</p> + +<p>But the lawyer was hurt. "It is not worth while to mention it. It was +not—not suitable. It did not enable my friend to reach a decision, after +all; it was merely something in regard to whist."</p> + +<p>Gifford hid his face in the grass for a moment, and then he said again, +"I—I beg your pardon, Mr. Denner; it struck me as an unusual way of +settling a love affair. Your friend must have been much disappointed?"</p> + +<p>"He was, he was, sir," answered Mr. Denner, not knowing whether to be +angry or injured, and picking up his reel and rod with trembling hands.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," Gifford said, sitting up and leaning his arms upon his +knees, the laughter still glimmering in his gray eyes, "I could give you +a proverb,—unless they are twins?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner sat down again on the stone bench, and looked at him eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, Gifford, they are not twins,—no. There is a good ten years between +them."</p> + +<p>"Then," said the young man, "what does your friend want better than 'Age +before beauty'? Let him propose to the elder."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner laid his rod down upon the grass, and, rising, extended his +hand to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Gifford," he said, "you are an intelligent young man,—a remarkable +young man, sir. I knew it when I determined to ask your advice—for my +friend. I thank you. My—my friend thanks you, Gifford. He will act upon +this at once; he is forever indebted to you, sir."</p> + +<p>It was all so solemn that Gifford's gravity lasted until the little +gentleman had disappeared through the hedge, and was far down the road; +then he hid his face in the grass, and laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Denner was happy. He fairly beamed as he walked along, +repeating the proverb to himself. "Yes," he said, "nothing could be +better—nothing. How strange that it has not occurred to me before, or +that Henry should not have thought of it! 'Age before beauty!' Yes, just +so,—just so!"</p> + +<p>While he was meditating thus happily, he heard behind him that curious, +irregular beat which only the hoofs of a runaway horse can make, and the +whirl of flying wheels swinging from side to side. He sprang to one side +of the road, his little heart pounding with sudden fright, and looked +back to see the rectory phaeton, reeling and almost overturning, dragged +madly at the heels of the shaggy little pony. They came flying toward +him. Mr. Denner caught a glimpse, through the cloud of dust, of Lois +Howe's white face, and a shrinking figure clinging to her. A gray veil +fluttered across the face, so that Mr. Denner could not tell who it was, +but instantly it flashed through his mind, "It is one of them!" He threw +down his basket and rod, and braced himself for the shock of the +encounter with the plunging horse; his little nerves, never very firm, +were strung like steel. Somehow, in that instant of waiting, the proverb +was forgotten; he felt that fate would decide for him. "It shall be this +one!" he said aloud,—"this one!" Then the horse seemed upon him; he did +not know when he made that jump at the bridle, or felt the iron hoof +strike his breast; he had only a confused sense of seeing the gray figure +thrown out upon the ground just as he found himself falling backwards. +Then he lost consciousness.</p> + +<p>When he came to himself, and saw the trees and bushes dance strangely +about him for a moment, he found that he had been lifted over to the +grass at the roadside, and that Gifford Woodhouse's arm was under his +head. As his eyes grew steady, he saw that two men were holding the +trembling, steaming horse, and that a little group of people were +standing about the phaeton; but the gray figure had disappeared. +Gifford was fanning him, and pressing something to his lips with a +gentle, anxious hand.</p> + +<p>"Gifford," he said faintly—"ah—which?"</p> + +<p>"They are neither of them hurt, thank God," answered the young man +reverently, "but they owe their lives to you, Mr. Denner."</p> + +<p>"Yes—but"—he struggled to say—"which—which was it?"</p> + +<p>"He means who was it," said the rector, who had taken his place on +the other side of the injured man. "It was my daughter—God bless you, +Denner!—and Mrs. Forsythe."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner groaned, and shut his eyes. "Oh, it wasn't either," he +murmured; "that's always the way!"</p> + +<p>"His mind is wandering," Gifford said, in a low voice. "I'm afraid this +is very serious, doctor. Do you think he can be moved now?"</p> + +<p>The lawyer did not try to prove his sanity; he only groaned again, but +this time it was partly from pain. They lifted him gently, and carried +him into his own house, which he had nearly reached when the runaway +overtook him.</p> + +<p>Both the women in the carriage had been thrown out, but Lois was able to +walk, and so far as could be ascertained Mrs. Forsythe was unhurt, save +for the shock, which sent her from one fainting fit into another until +late that night. They had carried her back to the rectory, Lois clinging +to one limp hand, and crying hysterically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she will die," she sobbed, "I know she will die; and it is my fault, +it is my carelessness! You needn't say it isn't, father. I know it is! +Oh, what shall I do!"</p> + +<p>But there was nothing to do; and Mrs. Dale, who had been hastily +summoned,—for her reputation for nursing was even wider than Miss +Deborah's for housekeeping,—only put her to bed, "to get her out of the +way," she said, but really because she was filled with sympathy for her +niece's remorse, and felt that the forgetfulness of sleep was the only +comfort for her.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is, brother," she said,—she had quietly settled +herself in authority at the rectory, despite Jean's air of contemptuous +dignity—"I believe Arabella Forsythe will have a chance to die, at last. +She's been looking for it these ten years, and as soon as she stops +fainting it will be a positive satisfaction to her. I'm afraid she is +really a very sick woman."</p> + +<p>But no such thought did she impart to Lois, when she tucked her up in +bed, giving her a hearty kiss with her soothing draught, and bidding her +have some sense and stop crying, for Mrs. Forsythe would be all right in +the morning. But the morning brought no comfort; the doctor, who had come +from Mercer as quickly as Mrs. Dale's horses could bring him, was very +grave.</p> + +<p>"The shock to the nervous system," he said,—"we cannot tell what it will +do."</p> + +<p>Lois was so prostrated by grief at Mrs. Forsythe's condition, no one +dared tell her that Mr. Denner was the immediate anxiety. There was an +injury to the spine, and the plunging hoofs had done more harm than was +at first supposed; things looked very serious for the little gentleman.</p> + +<p>The lawyer had fainted when he was lifted over his gloomy threshold, +where Mary stood waiting and wringing her hands, and had struggled back +to consciousness to find himself on the big, slippery horse-hair sofa, in +his dusky library. Dr. Howe was standing at his side, looking anxiously +down at him, and a neighbor was trying to slip a pillow under his head. +Gifford had gone to help Mary bring a bed down-stairs, for the slightest +movement caused Mr. Denner pain, and they dared not lift him, even to +take him up to his bedroom.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" Mr. Denner tried to say. "I seem to be giving +trouble. Ah—pray do not mind me, doctor."</p> + +<p>"You were hurt, you know, Denner," said the rector, whose feet were +planted wide apart, and his hands thrust down in his pockets, and who +felt oppressed by the consciousness of his own superabundant vitality, +for the lawyer looked so small and thin, and his voice was hardly more +than a whisper. "You've been a little faint. You'll be all right soon. +But Giff's going to put a bed up in here for you, because you might find +it uncomfortable to try to get up-stairs, you know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner looked anxious at this; he wondered if Mary would not be +offended; but he was too strangely weary to talk, and his little +twinkling eyes were dim and blurred.</p> + +<p>Gifford and Mary had carried down the four big posts of Mr. Denner's bed, +which looked like mahogany obelisks, and began to put it together, with +many interruptions for Mary to wipe her eyes on the corner of her gingham +apron, and remark it would soon be over, and she did not know where she +would ever get such another place. Once the rector turned and sharply +bade her hold her tongue. Mr. Denner opened his eyes at that, though he +had scarcely seemed to hear her. Nor did he know why Gifford and the +rector talked so long with the doctor on the broad flat stone at the +front door, in the fragrant spring twilight. Afterwards he beckoned +Gifford to him.</p> + +<p>He did not quite like, he said, to leave his rod out over night; he could +go and get it in the morning, he knew, but if it wouldn't be too much +trouble, he would be obliged if Gifford would bring it in. And there were +two trout in the basket: perhaps he would be good enough to present them, +with his compliments, to the Misses Woodhouse. Gifford went for the rod, +but could not go back without an inquiry at the rectory.</p> + +<p>"Arabella Forsythe," said Mrs. Dale,—"well, as I told brother, I think +this is her opportunity. She really is in a bad way, Giff. Lois wasn't +hurt at all, wonderful to say; but, naturally, she's in great distress, +because she blames herself for the whole thing."</p> + +<p>"How so?" asked Gifford.</p> + +<p>"Well, of course," Mrs. Dale answered, rubbing her little red nose with +her handkerchief, and with a suspicious mist in her eyes,—"of course it +really was her fault, only we mustn't let her know we think so. You see, +she was driving. (I've always said women don't know how to drive; they're +too inconsequent.) She wasn't paying attention to her horse, and let a +rein slip. Before she could pick it up, the horse shied at a newspaper +blowing along the road. Well, you know the rest. But Lois does not know +that we think it was her carelessness."</p> + +<p>Gifford hesitated a moment, and then said slowly, "But wouldn't it be +better to help her face the truth of it now? There is no use to try to +escape self-reproaches that have their root in facts."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" responded Mrs. Dale sharply. "I thought you had more +sympathy!"</p> + +<p>Gifford had told his aunts of the accident, when he brought them the +offering of the two small fishes, and the ladies were full of distress +and anxiety, and the flutter of excited interest which would be sure to +be felt in a place like Ashurst. They had gone at once to the rectory, to +see if they could be of use, though, as Miss Deborah said to her sister, +"with Adele Dale there, of course there is nothing more to be desired." +Nevertheless, the next morning, Miss Ruth ran over with a bowl of wine +jelly from Miss Deborah, and brought back word that Mrs. Forsythe was +"still breathing;" and that the gravest apprehensions were felt for Mr. +Denner.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah was waiting in the parlor to hear the news; so important an +occasion seemed to demand the dignity of the parlor, and in a high-backed +armchair, with her feet on a cricket and a fresh handkerchief in her +hand, she listened to Miss Ruth's agitated and tearful story.</p> + +<p>"I will make some whips for William Denner," she said promptly, as Miss +Ruth finished, "and we will take them to him this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Well, but, sister," said Miss Ruth, hesitating, "do you think—we'd +better? Ought not we to let Giff take them?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Miss Deborah. "He is able to see us, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"It is not quite that," answered the younger sister nervously, taking +off her bonnet, and beginning to roll the strings tight and smooth +between her fingers, "but—he is in—his chamber, sister. Would it be +quite—proper?"</p> + +<p>"I think," said Miss Deborah, holding her head very straight, "we are old +enough to"—</p> + +<p>"You may be," returned Miss Ruth firmly, "but I am not."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah was silent for a moment; then she said, "Well, perhaps you +are right, dear Ruth; though he is certainly very ill, and didn't you say +he was in the library?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Ruth, "he is very ill, but the fact of his couch being +in the library does not alter it. If anything sad should be going to +happen,—it would be different, then."</p> + +<p>"Of course," assented Miss Deborah.</p> + +<p>"You see," Miss Ruth explained, "if we saw him, and then he got well, it +would be very awkward."</p> + +<p>"True," said Miss Deborah. "And certainly single women cannot be too +delicate in such matters. We will send the whips by Giff. Poor, poor +William Denner! Let me see,—were you to be his partner on Saturday? Oh, +no, I recollect: it was I,—it was my turn."</p> + +<p>"I think not," Miss Ruth replied gently; "you played last week. I should +have played with him this time."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Miss Deborah firmly, "he was mine."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<p>The suspense was very hard for Lois Howe to bear.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Dale drove her from the sick-room for air and exercise, she +wandered restlessly about the rectory, or went to Mr. Denner's door +to beg a word of encouragement from Mary, or take a momentary comfort +from the messages he sent her that he was better, and he begged she +would not allow herself the slightest discomfort; it was really of no +consequence,—no consequence at all.</p> + +<p>Gifford was almost always with the little gentleman, and scarcely left +him, even to walk through the garden to the grassy street with Lois. On +Sunday, however, late in the afternoon, he went home with her; for Mr. +Dale, with whom she had come, was going to sit awhile with Mr. Denner, +and Gifford felt he could be spared.</p> + +<p>The hour was full of that peculiar Sunday afternoon quiet which seems to +subdue even the crickets and the birds. There was a breath of fragrance +from some fresh-cut grass, still wet from a noon thunder shower, which +had left the air crystal-clear and fresh. Their shadows stretched far +ahead along the road, where the dust was still damp, though the setting +sun poured a flood of yellow light behind them. Lois walked as though +very tired; she scarcely noticed her companion, and did not speak except +to answer his questions.</p> + +<p>"Isn't there any change in Mrs. Forsythe?" he asked, with anxious +sympathy.</p> + +<p>Lois shook her head. "No," she said.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't the rector gotten word to her son yet?"</p> + +<p>"No," Lois said again. "We telegraphed twice, but he seems to be out of +town, and nobody knows his address."</p> + +<p>Gifford made no comment.</p> + +<p>"I wish he would come!" the girl cried passionately. "It would be a +relief to have him reproach me."</p> + +<p>"I hope there will be no need of reproaches. I do hope his mother will +get well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no," Lois said, "she won't! I know it."</p> + +<p>"Try to be more hopeful," he urged. "The doctor said there was absolutely +no injury except the shock. I believe she will get well, Lois."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't know her," Lois answered. "You don't know how frail she +is. And then there's Mr. Denner! It is the responsibility of it that +kills me, Giff! I cannot get away from it for one single minute."</p> + +<p>They had walked along the road where the accident had taken place, and +Lois shivered as she saw the trampled grass, though it had been her wish +that they should come this way.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, putting her hands over her eyes, "life can never look the +same to me, even if they get well!"</p> + +<p>"No," Gifford said, "I understand that. But it may have a new sweetness +of gratitude, Lois."</p> + +<p>When they came to the gap in the hedge which was the outlet for the +rectory path, Gifford held aside the twigs for her to enter.</p> + +<p>"Let us sit down on the stone bench a little while," he said. "This is +where poor little Mr. Denner sat that afternoon. Oh," he added in a lower +tone, "just think from what a grief he may have saved us! I feel as +though I could never be able to show him my gratitude." Then he looked at +the transplanted bunch of violets, which was fresh and flourishing, and +was silent.</p> + +<p>Lois sat down a little reluctantly. The memory of that June night, nearly +a year ago, flashed into her mind; she felt the color creep up to her +forehead. "Oh," she thought, "how contemptible I am to have any thought +but grief,—how shallow I am, how cruel!"</p> + +<p>And to punish herself for this, she rushed into speaking of her +responsibility again.</p> + +<p>Gifford noticed her nervousness. "She is afraid of me," he said to +himself. "She wouldn't be, if she cared."</p> + +<p>"You see, Gifford," she began, "I keep saying to myself every moment, +'I did it—it was my carelessness—all, all my fault.' Father tried to +comfort me, and so did Mrs. Forsythe as soon as she could speak, and Mr. +Denner has sent word that I must not give him a thought (dear Mr. +Denner!), but oh, I know!"</p> + +<p>Gifford looked at her pale face, with the sweet trembling lip. "It is +awfully hard for you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Every one said I was not to blame," she went on unsteadily, "that it +was not my fault; but, Gifford, if they die, I shall have been their +murderer!"</p> + +<p>She pressed her hands tight together to keep her self-control.</p> + +<p>"No, Lois," he answered gently, "it is not right to feel that; your will +would be to die now for either of them" ("Oh, yes, yes!" she said), "so +don't blame yourself any more than you must."</p> + +<p>"Than I must?" she repeated slowly, looking at him with questioning eyes. +"How do you mean? They say there is no blame, Gifford."</p> + +<p>He did not answer; his face was full of a grieved reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Why," she said, with a quick breath, "do you blame me?"</p> + +<p>Gifford put his strong, steady hand impulsively over hers. "I only know +how you must blame yourself," he said pitifully. "I wish I could bear the +pain of it for you."</p> + +<p>"Then you say it is my fault?" she asked slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lois," he answered, looking down at her with anxious tenderness. +"I wish I didn't have to say it, but if it is true, if you were careless, +it's best to meet it. I—I wish you would let me help you bear it."</p> + +<p>Lois sat up very straight, as though bracing herself against a blow. "You +are right. I knew it was all my fault; I said so. But there's no help. +Let us go home now, please."</p> + +<p>Gifford rose silently, and they went together between the sweet-smelling +borders, up to the rectory. "I wish I could help you," he said wistfully, +as she turned to say good-night at the foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>"You cannot," she answered briefly. "No one can; and there's nothing I +can do to make up for it. I cannot even die as an atonement. Oh, if I +could only die!"</p> + +<p>Gifford walked back, distressed and shocked; he was not old enough yet to +know that the desire of death is part of youth, and it seemed as though +he too had incurred a great responsibility. "What a brute I was to say +it!" he said to himself. "I feel as though I had struck a woman. And it +made her wish she was dead,—good heavens! How cruel I was! Yet if it was +true, it must have been right to tell her; I suppose it was my brutal +way!"</p> + +<p>Lois went at once to Mrs. Forsythe's bedside, eager to hear of some +improvement, but the invalid only shook her head wearily.</p> + +<p>"No, no better," she said; "still breathing, that's all. But you must not +grieve; it only distresses me."</p> + +<p>Lois knelt down, and softly kissed her hand.</p> + +<p>"My only trouble," Mrs. Forsythe continued, "is about my boy. Who will +take care of him when I am gone?"</p> + +<p>She said much more than this, and perhaps even Gifford's persistent +justice could not have sustained the conviction that he had done right to +tell Lois that the blame of the accident rested upon her, if he had known +the thoughts of a possible atonement which passed through her mind when +Mrs. Forsythe spoke thus of her son. It was not the first time since her +injury that she had told Lois of her anxiety for Dick's future, and now +the girl left her with a dazed and aching heart.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale, full of importance and authority, met her in the hall.</p> + +<p>"I've got some beef-tea for Arabella Forsythe," she said, balancing the +tray she carried on one hand, and lifting the white napkin with the other +to see that it was all right, "if I can only persuade her to take it. I +never saw anybody who needed so much coaxing. But there! I must not be +hard on her; she is pretty sick, I must say,—and how she does enjoy it! +I said she would. But really, Lois, if we don't have some word from that +young man soon, I don't know what we shall do, for she is certainly worse +to-night. Your father has just had a letter from somebody, saying that he +went away with some friends on a pleasure trip, and didn't leave his +address. I thought he was so anxious to get to Ashurst,—well, that +is Arabella's story. I shouldn't wonder if he didn't see his mother +alive,—that's all I've got to say!"</p> + +<p>She nodded her sleek head, and disappeared into the sick-room. Lois had a +sudden contraction of the heart that made her lips white. "If aunt Deely +says Mrs. Forsythe is worse, it is surely very bad."</p> + +<p>She stumbled blindly up-stairs; she wanted to get away from everybody, +and look this horrible fact in the face. She found her way to the garret, +whose low, wide window, full of little panes of heavy greenish glass, +looked over the tree-tops towards the western sky, still faintly yellow +with sunset light, and barred by long films of gray cloud. She knelt down +and laid her cheek against the sill, which was notched and whittled by +childish hands; for this had been a play-room once, and many a rainy +afternoon she and Helen and Gifford had spent here, masquerading in the +queer dresses and bonnets packed away in the green chests ranged against +the wall, or swinging madly in the little swing which hung from the bare +rafters, until the bunches of southernwood and sweet-marjoram and the +festoons of dried apples shook on their nails. She looked at the stars +and hearts carved on the sill, and a big "Gifford" hacked into the wood, +and she followed the letters absently with her finger.</p> + +<p>"He blames me," she said to herself; "he sees the truth of it. How shall +I make up for it? What can I do?"</p> + +<p>She stayed by the window until the clouds turned black in the west; down +in the heavy darkness of the garden the crickets began their monotonous +z-z-ing, and in the locust-trees the katydids answered each other with a +sharp, shrill cry. Then she crept down-stairs and sat outside of Mrs. +Forsythe's room, that she might hear the slightest sound, or note the +flicker of the night-lamp burning dimly on the stand at the bedside.</p> + +<p>Gifford, sitting in another sick-room, was suffering with her, and +blaming himself, in spite of principle.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner lay in his big bed in the middle of the library. The blinds +were drawn up to the tops of the long, narrow windows, that the last +gleam of light might enter, but the room was full of shadows, save where +a taper flickered on a small table which held the medicines.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Mr. Denner, folding his little hands upon his breast,—"I +think, Gifford, that the doctor was not quite frank with me, to-day. I +thought it proper to ask him if my injury was at all of a serious nature, +if it might have—ah—I ought to apologize for speaking of unpleasant +things—if it might have an untoward ending. He merely remarked that all +injuries had possibilities of seriousness in them; he appeared in haste, +and anxious to get away, so I did not detain him, thinking he might have +an important case elsewhere. But it seemed as though he was not quite +frank, Gifford; as though, in fact, he evaded. I did not press it, +fearing to embarrass him, but I think he evaded."</p> + +<p>Gifford also evaded. "He did not say anything which seemed evasive to me, +Mr. Denner. He was busy charging me to remember your medicines, and he +stopped to say a word about your bravery, too."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner shook his head deprecatingly at this, but he seemed pleased. +"Oh, not at all, it was nothing,—it was of no consequence." One of the +shutters blew softly to, and darkened the room; Gifford rose, and, +leaning from the window, fastened it back against the ivy which had +twisted about the hinge from the stained bricks of the wall. "I cannot +claim any bravery," the sick man went on. "No. It was, as it were, +accidental, Gifford."</p> + +<p>"Accidental?" said the young man. "How could that be? I heard the horse, +and ran down the road after the phaeton just in time to see you make that +jump, and save her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner sighed. "No," he replied, "no, it was quite by chance. +I—I was mistaken. I am glad I did not know, however, for I might have +hesitated. As it was, laboring under a misapprehension, I had no time to +be afraid."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I quite understand," said Gifford.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner was silent. The room was so dark now, he could scarcely +see the young man's face as he stood leaning against one of the huge +bed-posts. Behind him, Mr. Denner just distinguished his big secretary, +with its pigeon-holes neatly labeled, and with papers filed in an orderly +way. No one had closed it since the afternoon that he had been carried in +and laid on the horse-hair sofa. He had given Mary the key then, and had +asked her to fetch the bottle of brandy from one of the long divisions +where it stood beside a big ledger. The little gentleman had hesitated to +give trouble in asking to have it locked again, though that it should be +open offended his ideas of privacy. Now he looked at it, and then let his +eyes rest upon the nephew of the Misses Woodhouse.</p> + +<p>"Gifford," he said, "would you be so obliging as to take the small brass +key from my ring,"—here he thrust his lean hand under his pillow, and +produced his bunch of keys, which jingled as he held them unsteadily +out,—"and unlock the little lower drawer in the left-hand side of my +writing-desk?"</p> + +<p>Gifford took the ring over to the candle, which made the shadow of his +head loom up on the opposite wall, as he bent to find the little brass +key among a dozen others of all shapes and sizes.</p> + +<p>"I have unlocked it, sir," he said, a moment later.</p> + +<p>"Take the candle, if you please," responded Mr. Denner, "and you will +see, I think, in the right-hand corner, back, under a small roll, a flat, +square parcel."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Gifford answered, holding the candle in his left hand, and +carefully lifting the parcel.</p> + +<p>"Under that," proceeded Mr. Denner, "is an oval package. If you will be +good enough to hand me that, Gifford. Stay,—will you lock the drawer +first, if you please, and the desk?"</p> + +<p>Gifford did so, and then put the package into Mr. Denner's hands. He held +it a moment before he gently removed the soft, worn tissue paper in which +it was wrapped; his very touch was a caress.</p> + +<p>"I was desirous," he said, "of having this by me. It is a miniature of my +little sister, sir. She—perhaps you scarcely remember her? She died when +I was twenty. That is forty-one years ago. A long time, Gifford, a long +time to have missed her. She is the only thing of—of that nature that I +have loved—since I was twenty."</p> + +<p>He stopped, and held the miniature up to look at it; but the light had +faded, and the ivory only gleamed faintly.</p> + +<p>"I look at this every day when I am in health, and I like it by me now. +No, not the candle, I thank you, Gifford. I called for it now (how +tarnished these pearls are in the frame! If—if I should not recover, it +must be reset. Perhaps you will see to that for me, Gifford?),—I called +for it now, because I wished to say, in the event of my—demise, I should +wish this given to one of your aunts, sir."</p> + +<p>Gifford came out from the shadow at the foot of the bed, and took Mr. +Denner's hand. He did not speak; he had only the man's way of showing +sympathy, and one weaker than Gifford could not have resisted the piteous +longing for life in Mr. Denner's tone, and would have hastened to +reassure him. But Gifford only held his hand in a firm, gentle grasp, +and was silent.</p> + +<p>"I should wish one of them to have it," he continued. "I have not +provided for its welfare in my will; I had thought there was no one for +whom I had enough—enough regard, to intrust them with it. I even thought +to destroy it when I became old. Some people might wish to carry it with +them to the grave, but I could not—oh, no, not my little sister! See, +Gifford—take it to the light—not that little merry face. I should like +to think it was with your aunts. And—and there is, as it were, a certain +propriety in sending it to—her."</p> + +<p>Gifford took the miniature from the lawyer's hand, and, kneeling by the +candle, looked at it. The faded velvet case held only the rosy, happy +face of a little child; not very pretty, perhaps, but with eyes which +had smiled into Mr. Denner's for forty years, and Gifford held it in +reverent hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the old man, "I would like one of them to have it."</p> + +<p>"I shall remember it, sir," Gifford answered, putting the case down on +the lawyer's pillow.</p> + +<p>The room was quite still for a few moments, and then Mr. Denner said, +"Gifford, it was quite accidental, quite by mistake, as it were, that I +stopped the horse for Mrs. Forsythe and little Lois. I—I thought, sir, +it was one of your aunts. One of your aunts, do you understand Gifford? +You know what I said to you, at the stone bench, that afternoon? I—I +alluded to myself, sir."</p> + +<p>Gifford was silent, almost breathless; it all came back to him,—the +warm, still afternoon, the sunshine, the faintly rustling leaves of the +big silver poplar, and Mr. Denner's friend's love story. But only the +pathos and the tenderness of it showed themselves to him now. He put his +hand up to his eyes, a moment; somehow, he felt as though this was +something too sacred for him to see.</p> + +<p>"I know, sir," he said; "I—I see."</p> + +<p>"I trust," Mr. Denner continued, in a relieved voice, "there is no +impropriety in mentioning this to you, though you are still a youth. You +have seemed older these last few days, more—ah—sedate, if I may so +express it. They—they frequently speak as though you were quite a youth, +whereas it appears to me you should be considered the head of the +family,—yes, the head of the family. And therefore it seemed to me +fitting that I should mention this to you, because I wished to request +you to dispose of the miniature. It would have been scarcely proper to do +otherwise, scarcely honorable, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am grateful to you for doing so," Gifford replied gently. "I beg you +will believe how entirely I appreciate the honor of your confidence."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not at all," said Mr. Denner, waving his hand, "not at all,—pray do +not mention it. And you will give it to one of them," he added, peering +through the dusk at the young man, "if—if it should be necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he answered, "I will; but you did not mention which one, Mr. +Denner."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner was silent; he turned his head wearily toward the faint +glimmer which showed where the window was, and Gifford heard him sigh. "I +did not mention which,—no. I had not quite decided. Perhaps you can tell +me which you think would like it best?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure your choice would seem of most value to them."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner did not speak; he was thinking how he had hoped that leap at +the runaway horse would have decided it all. And then his mind traveled +back to the stone bench, and his talk with Gifford, and the proverb. +"Gifford," he said firmly, "give it, if you please, to Miss Deborah."</p> + +<p>They did not speak of it further. Gifford was already reproaching himself +for having let his patient talk too much, and Mr. Denner, his mind at +last at rest, was ready to fall asleep, the miniature clasped in his +feverish hand.</p> + +<p>The next day, Gifford had no good news to carry to the rectory. The +lawyer had had a bad night, and was certainly weaker, and sometimes he +seemed a little confused when he spoke. Gifford shrank from telling Lois +this, and yet he longed to see her, but she did not appear.</p> + +<p>She was with Mrs. Forsythe, her aunt said; and when he asked for the +invalid, Mrs. Dale shook her head. "I asked her how she felt this +morning, and she said, 'Still breathing!' But she certainly is pretty +sick, though she's one to make herself out at the point of death if she +scratches her finger. Still—I don't know. I call her a sick woman."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale could not easily resign the sense of importance which attends +the care of a very sick person, even though Arabella Forsythe's appetite +had unquestionably improved.</p> + +<p>"We've telegraphed again for her son," she went on, "though I must say +she does not seem to take his absence much to heart. They are the sort of +people, I think, that love each other better at a distance. Now, if I +were in her place, I'd be perfectly miserable without my children. I +don't know what to think of his not writing to her. It appears that he's +on a pleasure party of some kind, and he's not written her a line since +he started; so of course she does not know where he is."</p> + +<p>But to Lois Mrs. Forsythe's illness was something beside interest and +occupation. The horror of her possible death hung over the young girl, +and seemed to sap her youth and vigor. Her face was drawn and haggard, +and her pleasant gray eyes had lost their smile. Somehow Mr. Denner's +danger, which to some extent she realized, did not impress her so deeply; +perhaps because that was, in a manner, the result of his own will, and +perhaps, too, because no one quite knew how much the little gentleman +suffered and how near death he was.</p> + +<p>Lois had heard Gifford's voice as she went into the sick-room, and his +words of blame rung again in her ears. They emphasized Mrs. Forsythe's +despair about her son's future. She spoke to Lois as though she knew +there was no possible chance of her recovery.</p> + +<p>"You see, my dear," she said, in her soft, complaining voice, which +sometimes dropped to a whisper, "he has no aunts or uncles to look after +him when I am gone; no one to be good to him and help him to be good. Not +that he is wild or foolish, Lois, like some young men, but he's full of +spirit, and he needs a good home. Oh, what will he do without me. He has +no one to take care of him!"</p> + +<p>Lois was too crushed by misery to feel even a gleam of humor, when the +thought flashed through her mind that she might offer to take his +mother's place; but she knew enough not to express it.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Mrs. Forsythe continued, "if he were only married to some sweet +girl that I knew and loved how happy I should be, how content!"</p> + +<p>"I—I wish he were," Lois said.</p> + +<p>"My death will be so hard for him, and who will comfort him! I am sorry +I distress you by speaking so, but, my dear child, on your death-bed you +look facts in the face. I cannot help knowing his sorrow, and it makes me +so wretched. My boy,—my poor boy! If I could only feel easy about him! +If I thought, oh, if I could just think, you cared for him! I know I +ought not to speak of it, but—it is all I want to make me happy. I might +have had a little more of life, a few months, perhaps, if it had not been +for the accident. There, there, you mustn't be distressed; but if I could +know you cared for him, it would be worth dying for, Lois."</p> + +<p>"I do care for him!" Lois sobbed. "We all do!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forsythe shook her head. "You are the only one I want; if you told +me you would love him, I should be happy, so happy! Perhaps you don't +like to say it. But listen: I know all about last fall, and how you sent +the poor fellow away broken-hearted; but I couldn't stop loving you, for +all that, and I was so glad when he told me he was going to try again; +and that is what he is coming down to Ashurst for. Yes, he is coming to +ask you. You see, I know all his secrets; he tells me everything,—such +a good boy, he is. But I've told you, because I cannot die, oh, I cannot +die, unless I know how it will be for him. If you could say yes, Lois, +if you could!"</p> + +<p>Her voice had faltered again, and the pallor of weariness which spread +grayly over her face frightened Lois. She shivered, and wrung her hands +sharply together.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, "I would do anything in the world for you—but—but"—</p> + +<p>"But this is all I want," interrupted the other eagerly. "Promise this, +and I am content to die. When he asks you—oh, my dear, my dear, promise +me to say yes!"</p> + +<p>Lois had hidden her face in the pillow. "It was all my fault," she was +saying to herself; "it is the only atonement I can make."</p> + +<p>"I will do anything you want me to," she said at last.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forsythe, laid her shaking hand on the girl's bowed head. "Oh, look +at me! You give me life when you say that. Will you promise to say yes, +Lois?"</p> + +<p>She lifted her head, but she would not look into Mrs. Forsythe's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, twisting her fingers nervously together. "I promise +if—if he wants me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, my dear!" Mrs. Forsythe said, and then, to Lois's horror, +she burst into tears. She tried to say it was joy, and Lois must not be +frightened, but the young girl fled for Mrs. Dale, and then ran up to the +garret, and locked the door.</p> + +<p>She went over to the western window and threw herself upon the floor, her +face hidden in her arms.</p> + +<p>"He made me do it," she said between her sobs; "he said it was my fault. +Well, I have made up for it now. I have atoned. I have promised."</p> + +<p>She was too miserable even to take the satisfaction which belongs to +youth, of observing its own wretchedness. She sobbed and cried without +consciousness of tears. At last, for very weariness and exhaustion, she +fell asleep, and was wakened by hearing Mrs. Dale rap sharply at the +door.</p> + +<p>"Come, Lois, come!" she cried. "What's the matter? Dick Forsythe is here. +Do have politeness enough to come down-stairs. I don't know but that his +mother is a shade better, but she has had a chance to die twice over, the +time he's been getting here!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p>The news of the anxiety in Ashurst hurried Helen's visit. She might be of +use, she thought, and she had better go now than a week later.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, too, she felt the necessity of calm. She had been forced into a +tumult of discussion and argument, which at last she had begun to meet +with the silence of exhaustion. Elder Dean had come to see her, and she +had received him at first with patience, and given him her reasons for +not believing in hell. There had even been a moment when Helen fancied +that she might convince him of what was so clear and simple to her own +mind. But to each argument of hers he had but one reply,—"The Bible, +ma'am, the Word of God, instructs us" thus or thus,—and he returned +again and again with unwearied obstinacy to his own position. After a +while Helen's annoyance at the man got the better of her judgment, and +she wrote to him, saying she did not wish to argue with him again, and +must beg him not to come to the parsonage to see her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Grier, too, horrified at his wife's reports of what Mrs. Ward had +said, hastened to Lockhaven to reproach and admonish John for permitting +such heresy in his household; for Mr. Grier held with St. Paul that the +husband was head of the wife, even to the extent of regulating her +conscience. John was not at home, so he turned his attack upon the real +offender, assuring her that it was for her soul's sake that he thus dealt +with her. Helen had brought the interview to a sudden close by refusing +to hear further argument, and bowing Mr. Grier from the room, with a +certain steady look from under her level brows and a compression of the +lips which, greatly to his surprise when he thought it over, silenced +him.</p> + +<p>The talks with John could not, of course, be called painful, for they +were with him, but they were futile.</p> + +<p>When the last evening came before she was to leave home, Helen knew, with +a dull pain of helpless remorse, that it was a relief to go; she was glad +that she could not hear Elder Dean's voice for a fortnight, or even know, +she said with a pathetic little laugh to her husband, that she "was +destroying anybody's hope of hell, in the parish."</p> + +<p>"Yes," John answered, "it will be good for you to be away from it all for +a time. It is hard to think clearly, hurried by my impatient anxiety to +have you reach a certain conclusion. I realize that. But I know you will +try to reach it, dearest."</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head wearily. "No, I am afraid I cannot promise that. You +must not hope that I shall ever come to believe in eternal damnation. Of +course I believe that the consequences of sin are eternal; the effect +upon character must be eternal, and I should think that would be hell +enough, sometimes. But I shall never, never believe in it as you do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Helen," her husband said, "I cannot cease to hope while I have power +to pray."</p> + +<p>Helen sighed. "I wish you could understand how useless it is, dearest, or +how it hurts me, this talk of hell. For people to be good for fear of +hell is like saying 'Honesty is the best policy;' it is degrading. And +it seems selfish to me, somehow, to think so much about one's own +salvation,—it is small, John. The scheme of salvation that the elders +talk so much about really resolves itself into a fear of hell and hope of +heaven, all for the individual soul, and isn't that selfish? But after +all, this question of eternal punishment is such a little thing, so on +the outside of the great puzzle. One goes in, and in: Why is sin, which +is its own punishment, in the world at all? What does it all mean, +anyhow? Where is God, and why does He let us suffer here, with no +certainty of a life hereafter? Why does He make love and death in the +same world? Oh, that is so cruel,—love and death together! Is He, at +all? Those are the things, it seems to me, one has to think about. But +why do I go all over it? We can't get away from it, can we?"</p> + +<p>"Those questions are the outgrowth of unbelief in justice," he said +eagerly; "if you only realized justice and mercy, the rest would be +clear."</p> + +<p>She came over to him, and, kneeling down, put her head on his knee. "Oh, +John, how can I leave you to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>It was true that they could not drop the subject. Hour after hour they +had sat thus, John instructing, proving, reasoning, with always the +tenderest love and patience in his voice. Helen listening with a sweet +graciousness, which kept her firm negations from making her husband +hopeless. He had showed her, that Sunday evening after the sermon on +foreign missions, what he felt had been his awful sin: he had deprived +his people of the bread of life for her sake, and, for fear of jarring +the perfect peace of their lives and giving her a moment's unhappiness, +he had shrunk from his duty to her soul.</p> + +<p>At first Helen had been incredulous. She could not realize that her mere +unbelief in any doctrine, especially such a doctrine as this of eternal +punishment, could be a matter of serious importance to her husband. It +needed an effort to treat his argument with respect. "What does it +matter?" she kept saying. "We love each other, so never mind what we +believe. Believe anything you want, darling. I don't care! Only love me, +John. And if my ideas offend your people, let us leave Lockhaven; or I +can keep silence, unless I should have to speak for what seems to me +truth's sake."</p> + +<p>And then John tried to show her how he had wronged his people and been +false to his own vows and that he dared not leave them until he had +rooted out the evil his own neglect had allowed to grow up among them, +and that her mere silence would not reach the root of the evil in her own +soul. And the importance of it!</p> + +<p>"Oh," he cried, once, when they had been talking until late into the +night, "is not your soul's life of importance, Helen? When I see you +going down to eternal death because I have failed in my duty to you, can +I satisfy myself by saying, We love one another? Because I love you, I +cannot be silent. Oh, I have wronged you, I have not loved you enough! +I have been content with the present happiness of my love,—my happiness! +I had no thought of yours."</p> + +<p>So they had gone over and over the subject, until to Helen it seemed +threadbare, and they sat now in the dusky library, with long stretches of +silence between their words.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta brought in the lamps. In view of Mrs. Ward's departure for +a fortnight, her father, still with an eye to wages, deferred giving +notice. "Besides," he thought, "Mrs. Ward may be convicted and converted +after she's been dealt with."</p> + +<p>Helen had risen, and was writing some instructions for her maid: just +what was to be cooked for the preacher, and what precautions taken for +his comfort. As she put her pen down, she turned to look at her husband. +He was sitting, leaning forward, with his head bowed upon his hand, and +his eyes covered.</p> + +<p>"Helen," he said, in a low, repressed voice, "once more, just once more, +let me entreat you; and then we will not speak of this before you go."</p> + +<p>She sighed. "Yes, dearest, say anything you want."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, and then John rose, and stood looking down +at her. "I have such a horror of your going away. I do not understand it; +it is more than the grief and loneliness of being without you for a few +days. It is vague and indefinable, but it is terribly real. Perhaps it is +the feeling that atonement for my sin towards you is being placed out of +my reach. You will be where I cannot help you, or show you the truth. Yet +you will try to find it! I know you will. But now, just this last night, +I must once more implore you to open your heart to God's Spirit. Ah, my +Helen, I have sinned against Heaven and before you, but my punishment +will be greater than I can bear if I enter heaven without you! Heaven? My +God, it would be hell! The knowledge that my sin had kept you out—yet +even as I speak I sin."</p> + +<p>He was walking up and down the room, his hands knotted in front of him, +and his face filled with hopeless despair.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I sin even in this, for my grief is not that I have sinned against +God in my duty to his people and in forgetting Him, but that I may lose +you heaven, I may make you suffer!"</p> + +<p>Helen came to him, and tried to put her arms about him. "Oh, my dear," +she said, "don't you understand? I have heaven now, in your love. And for +the rest,—oh, John, be content to leave it in Hands not limited by our +poor ideas of justice. If there is a God, and He is good, He will not +send me away from you in eternity; if He is wicked and cruel, as this +theology makes Him, we do not want his heaven! We will go out into outer +darkness together."</p> + +<p>John shuddered. "Lay not this sin to her charge," she heard him say; "she +knows not what she says. Yet I—Oh, Helen, that same thought has come to +me. You seemed to make my heaven,—you; and I was tempted to choose you +and darkness, rather than my God. Sin, sin, sin,—I cannot get away from +it. Yet if I could only save you! But there again I distrust my motive: +not for God's glory, but for my own love's sake, I would save you. My +God, my God, be merciful to me a sinner!"</p> + +<p>In his excitement, he had pushed her arm from his shoulder, and stood in +tense and trembling silence, looking up, as though listening for an +answer to his prayer.</p> + +<p>Helen dared not speak. There is a great gulf fixed between the nearest +and dearest souls when in any spiritual anguish; even love cannot pass +it, and no human tenderness can fathom it. Helen could not enter into +this holiest of holies, where her husband's soul was prostrate before its +Maker. In the solitude of grief and remorse he was alone.</p> + +<p>It was this isolation from him which broke her calm. It seemed profane +even to look upon his suffering. She shrank away from him, and hid her +face in her hands. That roused him, and in a moment the old tenderness +enveloped her.</p> + +<p>He comforted her with silent love, until she ceased to tremble, and +looked again into his tender eyes.</p> + +<p>"What I wanted to say," he said, after a while, when she was leaning +quietly against his breast, "was just to tell you once more the reasons +for believing in this doctrine which so distresses you, dearest. To say, +in a word, if I could, why I lay such stress upon it, instead of some of +the other doctrines of the church. It is because I do believe that +salvation, eternal life, Helen, depends upon holding the doctrine of +reprobation in its truth and entirety. For see, beloved: deny the +eternity of punishment, and the scheme of salvation is futile. Christ +need not have died, a man need not repent, and the whole motive of the +gospel is false; revelation is denied, and we are without God and without +hope. Grant the eternity of punishment, and the beauty and order of the +moral universe burst upon us: man is a sinner, and deserves death, and +justice is satisfied; for, though mercy is offered, it is because Christ +has died. And his atonement is not cheapened by being forced upon men who +do not want it. They must accept it, or be punished."</p> + +<p>Helen looked up into his face with a sad wonder. "Don't you see, dear," +she said, "we cannot reason about it? You take all this from the Bible, +because you believe it is inspired. I do not believe it is. So how can we +argue? If I granted your premises, all that you say would be perfectly +logical. But I do not, John. I cannot. I am so grieved for you, dearest, +because I know how this distresses you; but I must say it. Silence can +never take the place of truth, between us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it did, too long, too long!" John groaned. "Is there no hope?" and +then he began his restless walk again, Helen watching him with yearning +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I cannot give it up," he said at last. "There must be some way by which +the truth can be made clear to you. Perhaps the Lord will show it to me. +There is no pain too great for me to bear, to find it out; no, even the +anguish of remorse, if it brings you to God! Oh, you shall be saved! Do +the promises of the Eternal fail?"</p> + +<p>He came over to her, and took her hands in his. Their eyes met. This +sacrament of souls was too solemn for words or kisses. When they spoke +again it was of commonplace things.</p> + +<p>It was hard for her to leave the little low-browed house, the next +morning. John stopped to gather a bunch of prairie roses from the bush +which they had trained beneath the study window, and Helen fastened them +in her dress; then, just as they were ready to start, the preacher's wife +ran back to the study, and hurriedly put one of the roses from her bosom +into a vase on the writing-table, and stooped and gave a quick, furtive +kiss to the chair in which John always sat when at work on a sermon.</p> + +<p>They neither of them spoke as they walked to the station, and no one +spoke to them. Helen knew there were shy looks from curtained windows and +peeping from behind doors, for she was a moral curiosity in Lockhaven; +but no one interrupted them. Just before she started, John took her hand, +and held it in a nervous grasp. "Helen," he said hoarsely, "for the sake +of my eternal happiness seek for truth, seek for truth!"</p> + +<p>She only looked at him, with speechless love struggling through the pain +in her eyes.</p> + +<p>The long, slow journey to Ashurst passed like a troubled dream. It was an +effort to adjust her mind to the different life to which she was going. +Late in the afternoon, the train drew up to the depot in Mercer, and +Helen tried to push aside her absorbing thought of John's suffering, that +she might greet her uncle naturally and gladly. The rector stood on the +platform, his stick in one hand and his glasses in the other, and his +ruddy face beaming with pleasure. When he saw her, he opened his arms and +hugged her; it would have seemed to Dr. Howe that he was wanting in +affection had he reserved his demonstrations until they were alone.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul," he cried, "it is good to see you again, my darling +child. We're all in such distress in Ashurst, you'll do us good. Your +husband couldn't come with you? Sorry for that; we want to see him +oftener. I suppose he was too busy with parish work,—that fire has kept +his hands full. What? There is the carriage,—Graham, here's Miss Helen +back again. Get in, my dear, get in. Now give your old uncle a kiss, and +then we can talk as much as we want."</p> + +<p>Helen kissed him with all her heart; a tremulous sort of happiness stole +over the background of her troubled thoughts, as a gleam of light from a +stormy sunset may flutter upon the darkness of the clouds.</p> + +<p>"Tell me—everything! How is Lois? How are the sick people? How is +Ashurst?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe took up a great deal of room, sitting well forward upon the +seat, with his hands clasped on his big stick, which was planted between +his knees, and he had to turn his head to see Helen when he answered her.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Forsythe is better," he said; "she is certainly going to pull +through, though for the first week all that we heard was that she was +'still breathing.' But Denner is in a bad way; Denner is a very sick +man. Gifford has been with him almost all the time. I don't know what +we should have done without the boy. Lois is all right,—dreadfully +distressed, of course, about the accident; saying it is her fault, +and all that sort of thing. But she wasn't to blame; some fool left +a newspaper to blow along the road and frighten the horse. She needs +you to cheer her up."</p> + +<p>"Poor little Mr. Denner!" Helen exclaimed. "I'm glad Giff is with him. +Has Mr. Forsythe come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the rector; "but they are queer people, those Forsythes. The +young man seems quite annoyed at having been summoned: he remarked to +your aunt that there was nothing the matter with his mother, and she must +be moved to her own house; there was nothing so bad for her as to have a +lot of old women fussing over her. I wish you could have seen Adele's +face! I don't think she admires him as much as she did. But his mother +was moved day before yesterday, and he has a trained nurse for her. Your +aunt Adele feels her occupation gone, and thinks Mrs. Forsythe will die +without her," the rector chuckled. "But she won't,—she'll get well." +Here he gave a heavy sigh, and said, "Poor Denner!"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean Mr. Denner won't get well?" Helen asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," Dr. Howe answered sadly.</p> + +<p>They were silent for a little while, and then Helen said in a hushed +voice, "Does he know it, uncle Archie?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the rector explosively, "he—he doesn't!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe was evidently disturbed; he pulled up one of the carriage +windows with some violence, and a few minutes afterwards lowered it with +equal force. "No, he doesn't," he repeated. "The doctor only told me this +morning that there was no hope. Says it is a question of days. He's very +quiet; does not seem to suffer; just lies there, and is polite to people. +He was dreadfully troubled at breaking up the whist party last Saturday; +sent apologies to the other three by Gifford." Dr. Howe tugged at his +gray mustache, and looked absently out of the window. "No, I don't +believe he has an idea that he—he won't get well." The rector had a +strange shrinking from the word "death."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he ought to know," Helen said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"That is what the doctor said," answered the rector; "told me he might +want to settle his affairs. But bless my soul, what affairs can Denner +have? He made his will fifteen years ago, and left all he had to Sarah +Denner's boy. I don't see what he has to do."</p> + +<p>"But, uncle," Helen said, "mightn't he have some friends or relatives to +whom he would want to send a message,—or perhaps see? People you never +heard of?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no," responded Dr. Howe. "I've known William Denner, man and +boy, these sixty years. He hasn't any friends I don't know about; he +could not conceal anything, you know; he is as simple and straightforward +as a child. No; Willie Denner'll have his money,—there's not too much of +it,—and that's all there is to consider."</p> + +<p>"But it is not only money," Helen went on slowly: "hasn't he a right to +know of eternity? Not just go out into it blindly?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so,—perhaps so," the rector admitted, hiding his evident +emotion with a flourish of his big white silk handkerchief. "You see," he +continued, steadying his cane between his knees, while he took off his +glasses and began to polish them, "the doctor wants me to tell him, +Helen."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," she said sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose I must," the rector went on, "but it is the hardest task +he could set me. I—I don't know how to approach it."</p> + +<p>"It must be very hard."</p> + +<p>"Of course it seems natural to the doctor that I should be the one to +tell him. I'm his pastor, and he's a member of my church—Stay! is he?" +Dr. Howe thrust out his lower lip and wrinkled his forehead, as he +thought. "Yes, oh yes, I remember. We were confirmed at the same time, +when we were boys,—old Bishop White's last confirmation. But he hasn't +been at communion since my day."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think that is, uncle Archie?" Helen asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear child, how do I know?" cried the rector. "Had his own +reasons, I suppose. I never asked him. And you see, Helen, that's what +makes it so hard to go and tell Denner that—that he's got to die. +Somehow, we never touched on the serious side of life. I think that's +apt to be the case with friends in our position. We have gone fishing +together since we were out of pinafores, and we have played whist,—at +least I've watched him,—and talked politics or church business over +our pipes; but never anything like this. We were simply the best of +friends. Ah, well, Denner will leave a great vacancy in my life."</p> + +<p>They rode in silence for some time, and then Helen said gently, "Yes, but +uncle, dear, that is the only way you are going to help him now,—with +the old friendship. It is too late for anything else,—any religious aid, +I mean,—when a man comes to look death in the face. The getting ready +for death has gone, and it is death itself, then. And I should think it +would be only the friend's hand and the friend's eyes, just the human +sympathy, which would make it easier. I suppose all one can do is to say, +'Let my friendship go with you through it all,—all this unknown to us +both.'"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe turned and looked at her sharply; the twilight had fallen, and +the carriage was very dark. "That's a heathenish thing to say, Helen, and +it is not so. The consolations of religion belong to a man in death as +much as in life; they ought not to belong more to death than to life, but +they do, sometimes. It isn't that there is not much to say to Denner. It +is the—the unusualness of it, if I can so express it. We have never +touched on such things, I tell you, old friends as we are; and it is +awkward, you understand."</p> + +<p>They were very quiet for the rest of the long drive. They stopped a +moment at Mr. Denner's gate; the house was dark, except for a dim light +in the library and another in the kitchen, where Mary sat poring over her +usual volume. Gifford came out to say there was no change, and opened the +carriage door to shake hands with Helen.</p> + +<p>"He would have prayers to-night," he said to the rector, still talking in +a hushed voice, as though the spell of the sick-room were on him out +under the stars, in the shadows of the poplar-trees. "He made Willie read +them aloud to Mary, he told me; he said it was proper to observe such +forms in a family, no matter what the conditions might be. Imagine Willie +stumbling through Chronicles, and Mary fast asleep at her end of that big +dark dining-room!"</p> + +<p>Gifford smiled, but the rector was too much distressed to be amused; he +shivered as they drove away.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said sharply, "how I hate that slam of a carriage door! Makes me +think of but one thing. Yes, I must see him to-morrow. I must tell him +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The rector settled back in his corner, his face darkening with a grieved +and troubled frown, and they did not speak until they reached the rectory +gate. As it swung heavily back against the group of white lilacs behind +it, shaking out their soft, penetrating fragrance into the night air, +some one sprang towards the carriage, and almost before it stopped stood +on the steps, and rapped with impatient joy at the window.</p> + +<p>It was Lois. She had thrown a filmy white scarf about her head, and had +come out to walk up and down the driveway, and listen for the sound of +wheels. She had not wanted to stay in the house, lest Mr. Forsythe might +appear.</p> + +<p>Lois had scarcely seen him since he arrived, though this was not because +of his devotion to his mother. He spent most of his time lounging about +the post-office, and swearing that Ashurst was the dullest, deadest place +on the face of the earth. He had not listened to Lois's self-reproaches, +and insisted that blame must not even be mentioned. He was quite in +earnest, but strangely awkward. Lois, weighed down by the consciousness +of her promise, felt it was her fault, yet dared not try to put him at +his ease, and fled, at the sound of his step, to her refuge in the +garret. She did not feel that her promise to Mrs. Forsythe meant that she +must give opportunity as well as consent. But Dick did not force his +presence upon her, and he was very uncomfortable and <i>distrait</i> when at +the rectory.</p> + +<p>She need not have feared his coming again that evening. He was in the +library of his mother's house, covering many pages of heavy crested +note-paper with his big, boyish writing. Strangely enough, however, for +a young gentleman in love with Miss Lois Howe, he was addressing in terms +of ardent admiration some one called "Lizzie."</p> + +<p>But in the gladness of meeting Helen, Lois almost forgot him. Her arms +around her cousin's neck, and Helen's lips pressed against her wet cheek, +there was nothing left to wish for, except the recovery of the two sick +people.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Helen! Helen! Helen!" she cried hysterically, while Dr. Howe, +flourishing his silk handkerchief, patted them both without +discrimination, and said, "There, my dear, there, there."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + + +<p>After Helen had gone, John Ward went back to the parsonage, dazed and +stupefied by the exhaustion of the moral conflict which for nearly a +month had strained every fibre of his soul.</p> + +<p>The house seemed dark and empty. His face brightened a moment, as he sat +wearily down at his writing-table and saw the prairie rose in the slender +vase. He leaned his head on his hand, and drew the flower towards him, +touching it with gentle fingers, as though he caressed the bloom of +Helen's cheek. Then he pushed it in front of her picture which stood +always on the same table, and thought vaguely that he would leave it +there until she put a fresh one in its place.</p> + +<p>And so his thoughts came heavily back to the old grief and anxiety. He +went over all the arguments he had used, and saw new points and reasons +which he had neglected to give, and he even drew his pen and paper +towards him, and began to make some notes. He would send them to her; +and, away from him, surely what he should say would have an added force.</p> + +<p>Yet he could not fix his mind upon his subject. He found himself heavily +conscious of the silence of the house; and by and by he rose and went +up-stairs to their bedroom, standing drearily in the centre of the floor, +and looking about at his own loneliness. He lifted a bit of lace upon her +dressing-table, and smoothed it between his fingers, noting the faint +scent of orris which it held. Again that strange, unreasonable fear of +her absence seized him, and he was glad to go out and find some pressing +occupation to forget it.</p> + +<p>When he started (as he had had to do of late), alone, for prayer-meeting, +his mind was dulled by its own pain of anxiety, and he went absently +through the services, saying little, and "opening" the meeting as soon as +he could. After that, he sat with head bent and arms folded, scarcely +hearing what was said.</p> + +<p>Just before he pronounced the benediction, however, Elder Dean rose, and, +stepping with elaborate quiet to the pulpit, handed him a note, and sat +down again, covering his face with a big horny hand, and swinging one +foot nervously. John opened the folded paper, and held it up to one of +the tall lamps beside his desk, for the writing was dim and crabbed, and +the light poor, and then read a call that the Session should meet +immediately after the prayer-meeting. No object for consideration was +named, and the paper was signed by Mr. Dean and another elder. John put +it down, and, noticing that his four elders sat together on one of the +bare settees, omitted the usual request that they should all remain.</p> + +<p>The little congregation gradually dispersed. Then Elder Dean arose, and, +creaking heavily down the aisle, closed and locked the front door, and +put out four of the lamps in the back of the room for economy's sake. +After that he sat down again on the settee beside the three other elders, +and the lecture-room was silent.</p> + +<p>John looked up, and waited for some one to speak, then, suddenly +recalling his duty of moderator, he called the Session to order, and +asked the reason for meeting.</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson, who was the youngest elder in the church, shuffled his feet +under the bench, coughed slightly, and looked at his colleagues. Mr. Bent +and Mr. Smith kept their eyes upon the ground, and Mr. Dean folded and +unfolded his arms several times.</p> + +<p>"Brethren," said the preacher, "we have asked the blessing of God upon +the deliberations of this Session; it now remains to bring the business +before it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean poked Mr. Smith furtively, who replied in a loud whisper, "It is +your place, Brother Dean."</p> + +<p>The elder's face turned a dull mottled red; he felt John's surprised +eyes upon him. Under cover of blowing his nose violently, he rose, and, +shifting from one foot to the other, he glanced imploringly at his +companions. But no one spoke.</p> + +<p>"Brother Ward," he began at last, opening and shutting his mouth until +his upper lip looked like a hooked beak, "this Session has been called +for the consideration of—of the spiritual condition of this church. The +duties of the elders of a church are heavy, and painful—and—and—large. +But they are discharged,—they are always," said Mr. Dean, inflating his +chest, and raising one hand, "discharged! The church expects it, and the +church is not disappointed. Yet it is most terribly painful, +sometimes—most awful, and—unpleasant."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Dean stopped, and coughed behind his hand. Mr. Johnson crossed +his legs, and glanced back at the door as though calculating his chances +of escape. The other two men did not look up. Elder Dean had no reason to +fear that he had not the attention of the moderator. John was watching +him with burning eyes.</p> + +<p>"Proceed," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well," he continued, "as we always perform our painful, most painful +duties, we are here to-night. We are here to-night, Mr. Moderator, to +consider the spiritual welfare of the church, and of one especial soul +connected with the church. This soul is—is far from grace; it is in a +lost condition; a stranger to God, an alien from the commonwealth of +Israel. But that is not all. No. It is—ah—spreading its own disease of +sin in the vitals of the church. It is not only going down to hell +itself, but it is dragging others along with it. It is to consider the +welfare of that soul, Brother Ward, that this Session has been convened. +It is a very difficult task which is set before us, but we are sustained +by duty,—by duty, sir! We will not have to reproach ourselves for +neglect of an immortal soul. We wish to summon"—</p> + +<p>"Do you refer," said John Ward, rising, his hands clenched upon the +pulpit rail, his face rigid and his teeth set,—"do you refer to my +wife?"</p> + +<p>The three men on the bench started as though they had received a galvanic +shock. Elder Dean, with his lips parted, looked at his minister in +silence.</p> + +<p>"Answer me," said John Ward.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Moderator," replied the elder in a quavering voice, "if I do refer +to your wife, that is not the way it is to be considered. I refer to a +sin-sick soul. I refer to a—a cause of falling from grace, in this +church. I refer to a poor neglected sinner, who must be saved; yes, sir, +saved. If she happens to be your wife, I—I—am sorry."</p> + +<p>The room was very silent. The flaring lamps shone on the bare, +whitewashed walls and on the shamed faces of the four men; the shadows +in the corners pressed upon the small centre of light. One of the lamps +smoked, and Mr. Bent rose to turn it down, and a deeper gloom settled +upon the group. Mr. Johnson nervously opened a hymn-book, and began to +turn the pages. For a moment the rustle of the paper was the only sound +that broke the quiet.</p> + +<p>John Ward, appalled and angry, humiliated that his most sacred grief was +dragged from his heart to be gazed at and discussed by these men, was yet +silenced by his accusing conscience.</p> + +<p>"There is no need," he said at last, with painful slowness, and breathing +hard, "to bring this matter before the Session. As preacher of this +church, I prefer to deal with that soul according to the wisdom God gives +me. I neither ask nor desire your advice."</p> + +<p>Elder Dean turned to his companions, and raised his hands slightly. Mr. +Smith responded to his look by rising and saying, still gazing fixedly +upon the floor, "This ain't the way, Brother Ward, to consider this +matter. Your wisdom ain't enough, seein' that it has allowed things to +get to this pass. All we desire is to deal with Mrs. Ward for her own +good. Brother Dean speaks of the evil in the church,—ain't it our duty +to check that? It appears, sir, that, preacher of this church or not, +you've allowed her sin of unbelief to remain unreproved, and the +consequence is its spread in the church: that's what we're responsible +for; that's our duty. If you've neglected your duty, we ain't a-goin' to +neglect ours." He wagged his head emphatically, and then sat down.</p> + +<p>John Ward was too entirely without self-consciousness to feel the change +in the tone of these men. Their old sincerely felt admiration and awe of +their preacher was gone. The moment they became his critics, they ceased +to feel his superiority. Disapproval was power, and their freedom from +the trammels of respect made them cruel. But the outcry of John's +conscience made him deaf to smaller things. He sat bending forward, his +hands locked together, and the vein in his forehead standing out like +whip-cord; his lips were white and compressed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean got on his feet again, with much less embarrassment in his +manner. Mr. Smith's share in the responsibility was a great relief.</p> + +<p>"It is exactly as Brother Smith says," he said. "If it was just—just +her, we wouldn't, perhaps, meddle, though I ain't sure but what it would +be our duty. But the church,—we have got to protect it. We would wish to +summon her, and see if we can bring her to a realizing sense of her +condition before proceeding to any extreme measure. If she remained in a +hardened state, it would then be our duty to bring charges and proof. And +we should do it, bein' supported by a sense of duty—and by the grace of +God."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Johnson rose, rather noisily, and Mr. Dean looked at him +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"He'll spoil it all," he muttered, as he sat down between Mr. Smith and +Mr. Bent.</p> + +<p>"I just want to say," said Mr. Johnson, in a quick, high voice, "that I'm +not in sympathy with this meeting."</p> + +<p>John looked at him eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It is my idea that these sort of things never do. The day has passed for +forcing people into believing things,—yes, sir,—and it doesn't do any +good, anyhow. Now, my advice would be, don't disturb things, don't break +up the peace. I'm for peace and quiet and a happy life, before anything +else. Just let's not say anything about it. There's nothing, brethren, +like argument for disturbing a church or a home. I know it; I'm a married +man. And I just advise you to keep quiet. Use your influence in a quiet, +easy way, but nothing else. May be it will come out all right, after +all."</p> + +<p>He sat down again, and Mr. Dean and Mr. Smith began to whisper to him +with evident indignation.</p> + +<p>But the preacher's face was full of doubt and grief. "No," he said at +last, moving his dry lips with a visible effort, "we cannot conquer sin +by hiding it or forgetting it, and I believe that this Session has the +welfare of the church sincerely at heart; but I do not believe the plan +you propose will profit either the church or the soul of whom you speak. +Her absence at present would, at all events, make it necessary to defer +any action. In the mean time, I believe that the Lord will teach me +wisdom, and will grant grace and peace to her whose welfare is the +subject of your prayers. If I reach any conclusion in the matter which +you ought to know, I will communicate with you. If there is no further +motion, this meeting is adjourned."</p> + +<p>The elders rose, and with the exception of Mr. Johnson, retreated in +embarrassed haste. They ducked their heads, and made a guttural noise in +their throats, as though to say good-night; but they were ashamed to +speak to him, though Mr. Bent said as he turned his back on the preacher, +"We'll—ah—pray for her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson stopped to justify his presence, and say again, "Don't notice +it, Mr. Ward. I'd just gently like bring her round some time; keep on +prayin', an' all that, but don't force it. It will only make trouble for +you."</p> + +<p>John hurried away from him, stung to the quick. This, then, was his own +real attitude; this was what his plea of wisdom had meant this last year. +His own deceit loomed up before his soul, and the sky of faith grew +black. One by one, the accusations of the elders repeated themselves to +him, and he made no protest. His assenting conscience left him absolutely +defenseless.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + + +<p>There was a strange unreality about Helen's wakening, the first morning +in Ashurst.</p> + +<p>The year in Lockhaven seemed to have made as little change as a dream. +Here she was, back in her old room. How familiar everything looked! Her +little white bed; the old cherry-wood dressing-case, with its shining +brass rings and spotless linen cover; the morning sunshine dancing with +the shadows of the leaves, and falling in a golden square upon the floor; +the curtains at the south window blowing softly to and fro in the fresh +wind, and the flutter of wings outside in the climbing roses; even the +bunch of white lilacs on the little table, apparently all just as she had +left them nearly a year ago. Lockhaven and theology were behind her, and +yet in some indefinable way she was a stranger in a strange land.</p> + +<p>The consciousness of a difference had come the night before, when Lois +poured out her fears and griefs to her cousin (all except her promise to +Mrs. Forsythe) as soon as they were alone.</p> + +<p>Lois felt no difference. Helen had been away for a long time, but she was +still the same Helen to her; strong, and true, and gentle, with perhaps a +little more gravity in her eyes, but Lois was so grave herself she did +not notice that. Whereas with Helen there was a dual life: the one, +absorbing, passionate, and intense; the other, a memory; a tender, +beautiful past, no longer a necessity.</p> + +<p>Helen's joys had come between her and this once dear home life, and even +while Lois was telling her of her cruel anxiety, and Helen was listening +with a face full of sympathy, her thoughts were following John on his +lonely walk back from prayer-meeting, and greeting him in the doorway of +the empty house.</p> + +<p>Of course the consciousness of the difference and the strangeness wore +off in a few days; perhaps if Ashurst had been its usual quiet self, it +would have lasted longer, but there was so much to do, and so little +appreciation of change in the mind of any one else, she almost forgot +to notice it herself, but only knew that all the time, under all her +sympathy with Ashurst joys and sorrows,—mostly sorrows, now,—was a +deep, still current of thought flowing towards her husband.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale had been the first one to come in, in the morning. They had +scarcely finished breakfast when they heard her decided voice in the +hall, reproving Sally for some careless sweeping. A little while ago, +Lois would have resented this as interference; but she had too many real +troubles now to take Mrs. Dale's meddling to heart.</p> + +<p>"Well, Helen, my dear," she said, "I'm glad to see you." Mrs. Dale turned +her cheek to her niece, under the impression that she was kissing her. +"It is high time for you to be home again. You must keep this foolish +child in order; she hardly eats or sleeps. I suppose you've sent to know +how Arabella Forsythe is to-day, Lois?"</p> + +<p>Lois looked anxious. "I thought she really was better last night, but she +sent word this morning there was no change."</p> + +<p>"Fudge!" cried Mrs. Dale. "I brought her round all right before that +nurse came. She can't have killed her in this time. The fact is, brother, +Arabella Forsythe isn't in any hurry to get well; she likes the +excitement of frightening us all to death. I declare, Helen, she made her +death-bed adieux six times over! I must say, nothing does show a person's +position in this world so well as his manner of leaving it. You won't +find poor William Denner making a fuss. He isn't Admiral Denner's +great-grandson for nothing. Yes, Arabella Forsythe has talked about her +soul, and made arrangements for her funeral, every day for a week. That's +where her father's money made in buttons crops out!"</p> + +<p>"But aunt Deely," Helen said, "isn't there any hope for Mr. Denner? +Ashurst wouldn't be Ashurst without Mr. Denner!"</p> + +<p>"No, not a bit," Mrs. Dale answered promptly. "I suppose you'll go and +see him this morning, brother, and tell him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Dr. Howe, sighing, "I suppose I must, but it does seem +unnecessary to disturb him."</p> + +<p>"He won't be disturbed," said Mrs. Dale stoutly; "he isn't that kind. +There, now," she added, as Dr. Howe took up his hat and stick and went +gloomily out into the sunshine, "I shouldn't wonder if your father left +it to Gifford to break it to him, after all. It is curious how Archibald +shrinks from it, and he a clergyman! I could do it, easily. Now, Lois, +you run along; I want to talk to Helen."</p> + +<p>But the rector had more strength of purpose than his sister thought. His +keen eyes blurred once or twice in his walk to the village, and his lip +almost trembled, but when he reached Mr. Denner's bedside he had a firm +hand to give his friend. The doctor had left a note for him, saying the +end was near, and he read this before he went into the sick-room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner had failed very perceptibly since the day before. He looked +strangely little in the great bed, and his brown eyes had grown large and +bright. But he greeted the rector with courteous cordiality, under which +his faint voice faltered, and almost broke.</p> + +<p>"How are you to-day, Denner?" his friend said, sitting down on the edge +of the bed, and taking the sick man's hand in his big warm grasp.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied Mr. Denner, with labored breath, "I am doing +nicely."</p> + +<p>"Has Giff been here this morning?" asked Dr. Howe.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the lawyer answered. "He has gone home for an hour. Mary takes +excellent care of me, and I felt I was really keeping him too much from +his aunts. For his stay is limited, you know, and I am afraid I have been +selfish in keeping him so much with me."</p> + +<p>"No, no," the rector said, "it is a pleasure for him to be with you; it +is a pleasure for any of us. Poor little Lois is dreadfully distressed +about you,—she longs to come and nurse you herself; and Helen,—Helen +came last night, you know,—she wants to be of some use, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, now, dear me," remonstrated Mr. Denner feebly, "Miss Lois must +not have a moment's uneasiness about me,—not a moment's. Pray tell her I +am doing nicely; and it is really of no consequence in the world,—not +the slightest."</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Denner began to speak of Gifford's kindness, and how good every +one in the village had been to him; even Mary had softened wonderfully in +the last few days, though of this the sick man did not speak, for it +would seem to imply that Mary had not always been all she might be, and, +in view of her present kindness, it would have been ungracious to draw +attention to that.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Denner ended, folding his little hands on the counterpane, "it +is worth while to have had this indisposition (except for the trouble it +has given others) just to see how good every one is. Gifford has been +exceedingly kind and thoughtful. His gentleness—for I have been very +troublesome, doctor—has been wonderful. Like a woman's; at least so I +should imagine."</p> + +<p>The rector had clasped his hands upon his stick, and was looking intently +at Mr. Denner, his lower lip thrust out and his eyebrows gathered in an +absent frown.</p> + +<p>"William," he said suddenly, "you've seen the doctor this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Denner answered, "oh, yes. He is very kind about getting here +early; the nights seem quite long, and it is a relief to see him early."</p> + +<p>"I have not seen him to-day," said Dr. Howe slowly, "but yesterday he +made me feel very anxious about you. Yes, we were all quite anxious, +William."</p> + +<p>The lawyer gave a little start, and looked sharply at his old friend; +then he said, hesitating slightly, "That—ah—that was yesterday, did I +understand you to say?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe leaned forward and took one of Mr. Denner's trembling little +hands in his, which was strong and firm. "Yes," he said gently, "but, +William, my dear old friend, I am anxious still. I cannot help—I cannot +help fearing that—that"—</p> + +<p>"Stay," interrupted Mr. Denner, with a visible effort at composure, +"I—I quite understand. Pray spare yourself the pain of speaking of it, +Archibald. You are very kind, but—I quite understand."</p> + +<p>He put his hand before his eyes a moment, and then blindly stretched it +out to his friend. The rector took it, and held it hard in his own. The +two men were silent. Mr. Denner was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"It is very good in you to come and tell me, Archibald. I fear it has +discomposed you; it was very painful for you. Pray do not allow yourself +to feel the slightest annoyance; it is of no consequence, I—ah—assure +you. But since we are on the subject, perhaps you will kindly +mention—how—how soon?"</p> + +<p>"I hope, I trust," answered the rector huskily, "it may not be for +several days."</p> + +<p>"But probably," said Mr. Denner calmly, "probably—sooner?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe bowed his head.</p> + +<p>"Ah—just so—just so. I—I thank you, Archibald."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the rector drew a long breath, and straightened himself, as +though he had forgotten something. "It must come to us all, sooner or +later," he said gently, "and if we have lived well we need not dread it. +Surely you need not, of all the men I have ever known."</p> + +<p>"I have always endeavored," said Mr. Denner, in a voice which still +trembled a little, "to remember that I was a gentleman."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe opened his lips and shut them again before he spoke. "I—I meant +that the trust in God, William, of a Christian man, which is yours, must +be your certain support now."</p> + +<p>The lawyer looked up, with a faint surprise dawning in his eyes. "Ah—you +are very good to say so, I'm sure," he replied courteously.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe moved his hands nervously, clasping and re-clasping them upon +the head of his stick. "Yes, William," he said, after a moment's silence, +"that trust in God which leads us safely through all the dark places in +life will not fail us at the end. The rod and the staff still comfort +us."</p> + +<p>"Ah—yes," responded Mr. Denner.</p> + +<p>The rector gained confidence as he spoke. "And you must have that blessed +assurance of the love of God, William," he continued; "your life has been +so pure and good. You must see in this visitation not chastisement, but +mercy."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe's hand moved slowly back to the big pocket in one of his black +coat-tails, and brought out a small, shabby prayer-book.</p> + +<p>"You will let me read the prayers for the sick," he continued gently, and +without waiting for a reply began to say with more feeling than Dr. Howe +often put into the reading of the service,—</p> + +<p>"'Dearly beloved, know this, that Almighty God is the Lord of life and +death, and of all things to them pertaining; as'"—</p> + +<p>"Archibald," said Mr. Denner faintly, "you will excuse me, but this is +not—not necessary, as it were."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe looked at him blankly, the prayer-book closing in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I mean," Mr. Denner added, "if you will allow me to say so, the time +for—for speaking thus has passed. It is now, with me, Archibald."</p> + +<p>There was a wistful look in his eyes as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I know," answered Dr. Howe tenderly, thinking that the Visitation of the +Sick must wait, "but God enters into now; the Eternal is our refuge, a +very present help in time of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Ah—yes"—said the sick man; "but I should like to approach this from +our usual—point of view, if you will be so good. I have every respect +for your office, but would it not be easier for us to speak of—of this +as we have been in the habit of speaking on all subjects, quite—in our +ordinary way, as it were? You will pardon me, Archibald, if I say +anything else seems—ah—unreal?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe rose and walked to the window. He stood there a few minutes, but +the golden June day was dim, and there was a tightening in his throat +that kept him silent. When he came back to the bedside, he stood, looking +down at the sick man, without speaking. Mr. Denner was embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to pain you," he said.</p> + +<p>"William," the rector answered, "have I made religion so worthless? Have +I held it so weakly that you feel that it cannot help you now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not at all," responded Mr. Denner, "not at all. I have the greatest +respect for it,—I fear I expressed myself awkwardly,—the greatest +respect; I fully appreciate its value, I might say its necessity, in the +community. But—but if you please, Archibald, since you have kindly come +to tell me of this—change, I should like to speak of it in our ordinary +way; to approach the subject as men of the world. It is in this manner, +if you will be so good, I should like to ask you a question. I think we +quite understand each other; it is unnecessary to be anything +but—natural."</p> + +<p>The clergyman took his place on the side of the bed, but he leaned his +head on his hand, and his eyes were hidden. "Ask me anything you will. +Yet, though I may not have lived it, William, I cannot answer you as +anything but a Christian man now."</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Mr. Denner politely—"ah—certainly; but, between +ourselves, doctor, putting aside this amiable and pleasing view of +the church, you understand,—speaking just as we are in the habit of +doing,—what do you suppose—what do you think—is beyond?"</p> + +<p>His voice had sunk to a whisper, and his eager eyes searched Dr. Howe's +face.</p> + +<p>"How can we tell?" answered the rector. "That it is infinitely good we +can trust; 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard'"—He stopped, for Mr. +Denner shook his head with a fine sort of impatience.</p> + +<p>"If you please, doctor!"</p> + +<p>The rector was silent.</p> + +<p>"I have wondered about it often," the other continued. "I have +expected—this, for some days, and I have wondered. Think how strange: in +a few days—almost a few hours, I shall know all, or—nothing! Yes, the +mystery of all the ages will be mine!" There was a thrill of triumph in +his feeble voice. "Think of that, doctor. I shall know more than the +wisest man that lives,—I! I was never a very clever person, never very +wise; and yet, here is a knowledge which shall not be too wonderful for +me, and to which I can attain."</p> + +<p>He held up his little thin hand, peering at the light between the +transparent fingers. "To think," he said slowly, with a puzzled smile, +"to think that this is going to be still! It has never been any power in +the world; I don't know that it has ever done any harm, yet it has +certainly never done any good; but soon it will be still. How strange, +how strange! And where shall I be? Knowing—or perhaps fallen on an +eternal sleep. How does it seem to you, doctor? That was what I wanted to +ask you; do you feel sure of anything—afterwards?"</p> + +<p>The rector could not escape the penetrating gaze of those strangely +bright brown eyes. He looked into them, and then wavered and turned away.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" said the lawyer.</p> + +<p>The other put his hands up to his face a moment.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he answered sharply, "I don't know—I can't tell. I—I don't know, +Denner!"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Mr. Denner, with tranquil satisfaction, "I supposed not,—I +supposed not. But when a man gets where I am, it seems the one thing in +the world worth being sure of."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe sat silently holding the lawyer's hand, and Mr. Denner seemed to +sink into pleasant thought. Once he smiled, with that puzzled, happy look +the rector had seen before, and then he closed his eyes contentedly as +though to doze. Suddenly he turned his head and looked out of the window, +across his garden, where a few old-fashioned flowers were blooming +sparsely, with much space between them for the rich, soft grass, which +seemed to hold the swinging shadows of an elm-tree in a lacy tangle.</p> + +<p>"'The warm precincts of the cheerful day,'" he murmured, and then his +eyes wandered about the room: the empty, blackened fireplace, where, on +a charred log and a heap of gray ashes, a single bar of sunshine had +fallen; his fiddle, lying on a heap of manuscript music; the one or two +formal portraits of the women of his family; and the large painting of +Admiral Denner in red coat and gold lace. On each one he lingered with a +loving, wondering gaze. "'The place thereof shall know it'"—he began +to say. "Ah, doctor, it is a wonderful book! How it does know the heart! +The soul sees itself there. 'As for man, his days are as grass; as a +flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and +it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more'—no more. That +is the wonder of it! How strange it is; and I had such plans for life, +now! Well, it is better thus, no doubt,—no doubt."</p> + +<p>After a while he touched the little oval velvet case which lay on the +table beside him, and, taking it up, looked long and earnestly at the +childish face inside the rim of blackened pearls.</p> + +<p>"I wonder"—he said, and then stopped, laying it down again, with a +little sigh. "Ah, well, I shall know. It is only to wait."</p> + +<p>He did not seem to want any answer; it was enough to ramble on, filled +with placid content, between dreams and waking, his hand held firm in +that of his old friend. Afterwards, when Gifford came in, he scarcely +noticed that the rector slipped away. It was enough to fill his mist of +dreams with gentle wonderings and a quiet expectation. Once he said +softly, "'In the hour of death, and in the day of judgment'"—</p> + +<p>"'Good Lord, deliver us!'" Gifford finished gently.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner opened his eyes and looked at him. "Good Lord," he said, +"ah—yes—yes—that is enough, my friend. <i>Good</i> Lord; one leaves the +rest."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe walked home with a strange look on his face. He answered his +daughter briefly, that Mr. Denner was failing, and then, going into his +library, he moved a table from in front of the door, which always stood +hospitably open, and shut and locked it.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with the doctor?" asked Dick Forsythe, lounging up to +the rectory porch, his hands in his pockets and his hat on the back of +his head. "I walked behind him all the way from the village; he looked, +as though some awful thing had happened, and he walked as if he was +possessed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Denner's worse," Lois answered tearfully.</p> + +<p>Mr. Forsythe had found her on the porch, and, in spite of her grief, she +looked nervously about for some one to save her from a <i>tête-à-tête</i>.</p> + +<p>Dick seemed as anxious as she. "No, I won't sit down, thank you. Mother +just wanted to know if you'd run in this afternoon a few minutes," and +any one less frightened than Lois must have seen that he wished his +mother had chosen another messenger.</p> + +<p>"Is she—is she pretty comfortable?" the girl said, pulling a rose to +pieces, and looking into the cool, dark hall for a third person; but +there was only Max, lying fast asleep under the slender-legged table, +which held a blue bowl full of peonies, rose, and white, and deep glowing +red.</p> + +<p>Dick also glanced towards the door. "Oh, yes, she'll be all right. +Ah—unfortunately, I can't stay very long in Ashurst, but she'll be all +right, I'm sure. You'll cheer her up when I'm gone, Miss Howe?"</p> + +<p>Lois felt herself grow white. A sudden flash of hope came into her mind, +and then fear. What did it mean? Was he going because he dared not ask +her, or would his mother tell him that he would surely succeed? Oh, her +promise!</p> + +<p>Her breath came quick, and Mr. Forsythe saw it, "Yes," he said, +stammering with embarrassment, "I—I fear I shall have to +go—ah—important business."</p> + +<p>Just then both these unhappy young people caught sight of Helen coming +serenely across the lawn.</p> + +<p>"There's my cousin," said Lois; "let us go and meet her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, do!" Dick answered fervently; and presently greeted Helen with +a warmth which made her give Lois a quick, questioning look from under +her straight brows, and sent her thoughts with a flash of sympathy to +Gifford Woodhouse.</p> + +<p>When the young man had gone, Helen said to her cousin, "Lois, dear—?"</p> + +<p>But Lois only threw herself into her arms with such floods of tears Helen +could do nothing but try to calm her.</p> + +<p>Lois was not the only one who heard of Dick's plan of leaving Ashurst +with mingled joy and dread. Gifford knew that Mr. Forsythe was going +away, and seeing the distress in Lois's face, in these sad days, he put +it down to grief at his departure. It was easier to give himself this +pain than to reflect that Lois was trembling with anxiety about Mr. +Denner, and was still full of alarm for Mrs. Forsythe.</p> + +<p>"If that puppy neglects her," he thought, "if she cares for him, and if +he grieves her, I vow I'll have a word to say to him! Now why should she +cry, if it isn't because he's going away?"</p> + +<p>Though he was glad Ashurst would see the last of this objectionable young +man, Lois's grief turned his gladness into pain, and there was no hope +for himself in his relief at Dick's departure. Miss Deborah, with the +best intentions in the world, had made that impossible.</p> + +<p>The day after Dr. Howe had told Mr. Denner that he must die, Gifford had +come home for a few minutes. He had met the little ladies walking arm in +arm up and down one of the shady paths of their walled garden. Miss Ruth +still held her trowel in her hand, and her shabby gloves were stained by +the weeds she had pulled up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there you are, dear Giff," she cried; "we were just looking for you. +Pray, how is Mr. Denner?"</p> + +<p>Gifford's serious face answered her without words, and none of the group +spoke for a moment. Then Gifford said, "It cannot last much longer. You +see, he suffers very much at night; it doesn't seem as though he could +live through another."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me," said Miss Ruth, wiping her eyes with the frankest grief, +"you don't say so!"</p> + +<p>"Haven't you just heard him say so, sister?" asked Miss Deborah, trying +to conceal an unsteady lip by a show of irritation. "Do pay attention."</p> + +<p>"I did, dear Deborah," returned Miss Ruth, "but I cannot bear to believe +it."</p> + +<p>"Your believing it, or not, doesn't alter the case unfortunately. Did he +like the syllabub yesterday, Gifford?"</p> + +<p>"He couldn't eat it," her nephew answered, "but Willie seemed to enjoy +it."</p> + +<p>"Poor child," cried Miss Deborah, full of sympathy, "I'm glad he had +anything to comfort him. But Gifford, do you really feel sure Mr. Denner +cannot recover?"</p> + +<p>"Too sure," replied the young man, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt about it,—no doubt whatever?" Miss Ruth inquired +anxiously.</p> + +<p>Her nephew looked at her in surprise. "I wish there were."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, sister?" said Miss Ruth.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah nodded and sighed. "I—I think so," she answered, and the +two sisters turned to go into the house, importance and grief on both +their faces; but Miss Deborah suddenly recollected something she wished +to say.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Gifford," she said, letting Miss Ruth get a little ahead of +her, "I really think that that young Forsythe is without proper feeling; +and I am surprised at dear Lois, too. I cannot say—I am not at liberty +to say anything more, but at such a time"—</p> + +<p>Gifford gave her a quick look. "What do you mean, aunt Deborah?"</p> + +<p>But his aunt seemed reluctant to speak, and looked after Miss Ruth, who +was walking slowly up the mossy path, flecked here and there by patches +of sunshine that fell through the flickering leaves above her. When she +was quite out of hearing, Miss Deborah said mysteriously,—</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps; I might tell you; you are not like any one else. Ruth +thinks I cannot keep a secret, but then you know your dear aunt Ruth does +not discriminate. You are quite different from the public."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what is it?" he said impatiently, and with a horrible +foreboding.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is settled," answered Miss Deborah; "it is all settled between +Lois and young Forsythe. Arabella Forsythe told Adele Dale, and Adele +Dale told me; quite privately, of course. It wasn't to be mentioned to +any one; but it was only natural to speak of it to dear Ruth and to you."</p> + +<p>Gifford did not wait to hear more. "I must go," he said hurriedly. "I +must get back to Mr. Denner," and he was off.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear Giff!" cried Miss Deborah; taking little mincing steps as she +tried to run after him. "You won't mention it? You won't speak of it to +any one, or say I—I"—</p> + +<p>"No!" he called back,—"no, of course not."</p> + +<p>"Not even to your aunt Ruth would be best!" But he did not hear her, and +Miss Deborah went back to the house, annoyed at Gifford, because of her +own indiscretion.</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth had gone to her own bedroom, and some time after Miss Deborah +had disappeared in hers, the younger sister emerged, ready to go to Mr. +Denner's.</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth had dressed with great care, yet with a proper sense of +fitness, considering the occasion. She wore a soft, old-fashioned lawn +with small bunches of purple flowers scattered over it, and gathered very +full about the waist. But, before the swinging mirror of her high bureau, +she thought it looked too light and bright for so sad a visit, and so +trotted up-stairs to the garret, and, standing on tiptoe by a great chest +of drawers, opened one with much care, that the brass rings might not +clatter on the oval plates under them, and disturb Miss Deborah. The +drawer was sweet with lavender and sweet clover, and, as she lifted from +its wrappings of silvered paper a fine black lace shawl, some pale, +brittle rose-leaves fell out upon the floor. That shawl, thrown about her +shoulders, subdued her dress, she thought; and the wide-brimmed black hat +of fine Neapolitan straw, tied with soft black ribbons beneath her little +round chin, completed the look of half mourning.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah answered her sister's knock at her bedroom door in person. +She was not dressed to make calls, for she wore a short gown over her red +flannel petticoat, and on her feet were large and comfortable list +slippers. Miss Deborah's eyes were red, and she sniffed once, +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Why, Ruth Woodhouse!" she cried. "Have you no sense? Don't, for pity's +sake, dress as though you had gone into mourning for the man, when he's +alive. And it is very forward of you, too, for if either of us did it +(being such old friends), it should be I, for I am nearer his age."</p> + +<p>But Miss Ruth did not stop for discussion. "Are you not going?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No," Miss Deborah answered, "we'd better go to-morrow. You might just +inquire of Mary, this afternoon, but we will call to-morrow. It is more +becoming to put it off as long as possible."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth had her own views, and she consented with but slight demur, and +left Miss Deborah to spend the rest of the afternoon in a big chair by +the open window, with Baxter's "Saints' Rest" upon her knee.</p> + +<p>When Gifford had gone back to the lawyer's house, he found the little +gentleman somewhat brighter. Mary had put a clean white counterpane on +the bed, and buttoned a fresh valance around it; and on the small table +at his side Willie had placed a big bunch of gillyflowers and lupins, +with perhaps less thought of beauty than of love.</p> + +<p>"Gifford," he said, "I am glad to see you. And how, if you please, +did you leave your aunt? I hope you conveyed to her my thanks for her +thoughtfulness, and my apologies for detaining you as well?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," the young man answered, "I did. They are both rejoiced that +I can be of any service."</p> + +<p>Gifford had come to the side of the bed, and, slipping his strong young +arm under Mr. Denner's head, lifted him that he might take with greater +ease the medicine he held in a little slender-stemmed glass. "Ah," said +Mr. Denner, between a sigh and a groan, as Gifford laid him down again, +"how gentle you are! There is a look in your face, sometimes, of one of +your aunts, sir; not, I think, Miss Deborah. I have thought much, since +I—I knew my condition, Gifford, of my wish that your aunt Deborah should +have the miniature of my little sister. I still wish it. It is not easy +for me to decide a momentous question, but, having decided, I am apt to +be firm. Perhaps—unreasonably firm. I would not have you imagine I had, +in any way, changed my mind, as it were—yet I have recurred, +occasionally, in my thoughts, to Miss Ruth. I should not wish to seem to +slight Miss Ruth, Gifford?"</p> + +<p>"She could not feel it so, I know," the young man answered.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Denner's thoughts apparently dwelt upon it, for twice again, in +intervals of those waking dreams, or snatches of sleep, he said, quite to +himself, "It is decided; yet it would seem marked to pass over Miss +Ruth." And again he murmured, "I should not wish to slight Miss Deborah's +sister."</p> + +<p>Later in the afternoon he wakened, with a bright, clear look in his face. +"It occurs to me," he said, "that I have another portrait, of no value at +all compared with the miniature (and of course it is becoming that the +miniature should go to Miss Deborah), which I might give to Miss Ruth. +Because she is the sister of Miss Deborah, you understand, Gifford. +Perhaps you will be so good as to hand me the square package from that +same little drawer? Here is the key."</p> + +<p>Gifford brought it: it was a daguerreotype case, much worn and frayed +along the leather back, and without the little brass hooks which used to +fasten it; instead, a bit of ribbon had been tied about it to keep it +closed. Mr. Denner did not open it; he patted the faded green bow with +his little thin fingers.</p> + +<p>"It is a portrait of myself," he said. "It belonged to my mother. I had +it taken for her when I was but a boy; yes, I was only thirty. She tied +the ribbon; it has never been opened since."</p> + +<p>He put it down on the stand, by the miniature, under the gillies and +lupins.</p> + +<p>So it happened that when Miss Ruth Woodhouse came to inquire for him, she +had been in Mr. Denner's thoughts all the afternoon. "Not," he kept +assuring himself, "not that I have changed my mind,—not at all,—but she +is Miss Deborah's sister."</p> + +<p>It was after five when Mary pushed the library door open softly, and +looked in, and then beckoned mysteriously to Gifford.</p> + +<p>"It is your aunt; she wants to know how he is. You'd better come and tell +her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner heard her, and turned his head feebly towards the door. "Miss +Woodhouse, did you say, Mary? Which Miss Woodhouse, if you please?"</p> + +<p>"It's the young one," said Mary, who spoke relatively.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ruth?" Mr. Denner said, with an eager quaver in his voice. +"Gifford, do you think—would you have any objection, Gifford, to +permitting me to see your aunt? That is, if she would be so obliging +and kind as to step in for a moment?"</p> + +<p>"She will be glad to, I know," Gifford answered. "Let me go and bring +her."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth was in a flutter of grief and excitement. "I'll come, of +course. I—I had rather hoped I might see him; but what will Deborah say? +Yet I can't but think it's better for him not to see two people at once."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner greeted her by a feeble flourish of his hand. "Oh, dear me, +Mr. Denner," said she, half crying, in spite of Gifford's whispered +caution, "I'm so distressed to see you so ill, indeed I am."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not at all," responded Mr. Denner, but his voice had a strange, +far-away sound in his ears, and he tried to speak louder and more +confidently,—"not at all. You are very good to come, ma'am;" and then +he stopped to remember what it was he had wished to say.</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth was awed into silence, and there was a growing anxiety in +Gifford's face.</p> + +<p>"Ah—yes"—Mr. Denner began again, with a flash of strength in his tone, +"I wished to ask you if you would accept—accept"—he reached towards the +little table, but he could not find the leather case until Gifford put it +into his hand—"if you would be so good as to accept this; and will you +open it, if you please, Miss Ruth?"</p> + +<p>She did so, with trembling fingers. It was a daguerreotype of Mr. Denner; +the high neckcloth and the short-waisted, brass-buttoned coat and +waistcoat showed its age, as well as the dimness of the glass and the +fresh boyish face of the young man of thirty.</p> + +<p>"What—what was I speaking of, Gifford?" said Mr. Denner.</p> + +<p>"You gave my aunt Ruth the picture, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, just so, just so. I merely wished to add that I desired to +present it to Miss Deborah's sister,—though it is of no value, not the +least value; but I should be honored by its acceptance. And perhaps you +will be good enough to—to convey the assurance of my esteem to Miss +Deborah. And Gifford—my friend Gifford is to give her the miniature of +my little sister."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Ruth, who was crying softly.</p> + +<p>"Not that I have—have changed my mind," said Mr. Denner, "but it is not +improper, I am sure, that Miss Deborah's sister should give me—if she +will be so good—her hand, that I may say good-by?"</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth did not quite understand, until Gifford motioned to her to lay +her little hand in that feeble one which was groping blindly towards her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner's eyes were very dim.</p> + +<p>"I—I am very happy," he murmured. "I thank you, Ruth;" and then, a +moment after, "If you will excuse me, I think I will rest for a few +moments."</p> + +<p>Still holding Miss Ruth's hand, he turned his head in a weary way towards +the light, and softly closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denner rested.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + + +<p>Perhaps the majesty of Death is better understood when some little soul +is swallowed up in the great Mystery than when one is taken on whom Life +has laid her bright touch, and made famous and necessary.</p> + +<p>Even in quiet Ashurst, Mr. Denner was, as he himself would have, said, of +no consequence, and his living was not felt in any way; yet when he was +gone, a sudden knowledge came of how much he was to them, and how great a +blank he left. So Death creates greatness.</p> + +<p>It was well for Lois Howe, in those first sad days, that her cousin was +with her, or the reaction from the excitement of anxiety into hopeless +grief might have been even more prostrating than it was. All the comfort +and tenderness Helen could give her in her helpless self-reproach were +hers, though she as well as Gifford never sought to make the sorrow less +by evading the truth. But Helen was troubled about her, and said to Dr. +Howe, "Lois must come to see me for a while; she does need a change very +much. I'm afraid she won't be able to go with me next week, but can't she +come as soon as she is strong enough to travel?"</p> + +<p>And so it was decided that she should come with Gifford, who would go +back to Lockhaven in about a fortnight. Business, which never reached Mr. +Denner in Mercer, had been offered the young lawyer, and he had been +willing to stay in Ashurst a little longer, though he had told himself he +was a fool.</p> + +<p>Lois looked forward to the visit with feverish anxiety. Mr. Forsythe, +perhaps to please his mother, but certainly with rather an ill grace, had +lingered in Ashurst. But he had not been very much at the rectory; +perhaps because it was not a time to make visits, or be careless and +light-hearted, while little Mr. Denner was fading out of life, and his +mother felt herself trembling on the edge of the grave. This, at least, +was what Mrs. Forsythe said to Lois more than once, with an anxious, +troubled look, which perhaps explained more than her words did.</p> + +<p>She had accepted very complacently Lois's protestations of joy and +gratitude that she was no longer, as she expressed it, in immediate +danger, but she did not apparently feel that that altered at all the +conditions of the promise Lois had given her, which was evidently a very +precious thing. Nor did Lois remonstrate against being held by it. She +felt she deserved any grief that came to her, and it would have been +cowardly, she thought, to shrink from what she had undertaken merely +because she had been so far mercifully spared the grief of Mrs. +Forsythe's death. And who could tell that she would live, even yet? +Certainly Mrs. Forsythe herself seemed to consider her recovery a matter +of grave doubt, and Lois's anxieties were quick to agree with her.</p> + +<p>So she went about with a white face and eyes from which all the careless +gayety had gone, simply bearing her life with a dull pain and in constant +fear. Gifford saw it, and misunderstood it; he thought, in view of what +Miss Deborah had told him and what he knew of Mr. Forsythe's plans, that +it was natural for Lois to look unhappy. Anxieties are very misleading; +the simple explanation of remorse for her carelessness did not come into +Gifford's mind at all.</p> + +<p>One afternoon,—it was the day following Mr. Denner's funeral,—Gifford +thought this all over, and tried to see what his life offered him for the +future, now that the last faint hope of winning Lois's love had died. Mr. +Denner's will had been read that morning in his dining-room, with only +Dr. Howe and Mary and Willie present, while the rain beat persistently +against the windows, and made the room so dark that Gifford had to call +for a candle, and hold the paper close to his eyes to see to read. Willie +had shivered, and looked steadfastly under the table, thinking, while his +little heart beat suffocatingly, that he was glad there were no prayers +after a will. When that was over, and Dr. Howe had carried Willie back +with him to be cheered and comforted at the rectory, Gifford had devoted +himself to disposing of such small effects as Mr. Denner had left as +personal bequests.</p> + +<p>They were not very many. A certain bamboo rod with silver mountings and a +tarnished silver reel, were for Dr. Howe; and there were a few books to +be sent to Mr. Dale, and six bottles of Tokay, '52, for Colonel Drayton. +There was a mourning-ring, which had been Mr. Denner's father's, for a +distant cousin, who was further comforted by a few hundred dollars, but +all the rest was for Willie.</p> + +<p>Gifford had felt, as he sat at Mr. Denner's writing-desk and touched some +small possessions, all the pathetic powerlessness of the dead. How Mr. +Denner had treasured his little valueless belongings! There was a pair of +silver shoe-buckles, wrapped in chamois skin, which the little gentleman +had faithfully kept bright and shining; they had belonged to his +grandfather, and Mr. Denner could remember when they had been worn, and +the knee-breeches, and the great bunch of seals at the fob. Perhaps, when +his little twinkling brown eyes looked at them, he felt again the thrill +of love and fear for the stately gentleman who had awed his boyhood. +There was a lock of faded gray hair in a yellow old envelope, on which +was written, in the lawyer's precise hand, "My mother's hair," and a date +which seemed to Gifford very far back. There were one or two relics of +the little sister: a small green morocco shoe, which had buttoned about +her ankle, and a pair of gold shoulder-straps, and a narrow pink ribbon +sash that had grown yellow on the outside fold.</p> + +<p>There was a pile of neatly kept diaries, with faithful accounts of the +weather, and his fishing excursions, and the whist parties; scarcely more +than this, except a brief mention of a marriage or a death. Of course +there were letters; not very many, but all neatly labeled with the +writer's name and the date of their arrival. These Gifford burned, and +the blackened ashes were in the wide fireplace, behind a jug of flowers, +on which he could hear, down the chimney, the occasional splash of a +raindrop. There was one package of letters where the name was "Gertrude;" +there were but few of these, and, had Gifford looked, he would have seen +that the last one, blistered with tears, said that her father had +forbidden further correspondence, and bade him, with the old epistolary +formality from which not even love could escape, "an eternal farewell." +But the tear-stains told more than the words, at least of Mr. Denner's +heart, if not of pretty sixteen-year-old Gertrude's. These were among the +first to be burned; yet how Mr. Denner had loved them, even though +Gertrude, running away with her dancing-master, and becoming the mother +of a family of boys, had been dead these twenty years, and the proverb +had pointed to Miss Deborah Woodhouse!</p> + +<p>Some papers had to be sealed, and the few pieces of silver packed, ready +to be sent to the bank in Mercer, and then Gifford had done.</p> + +<p>He was in the library, from which the bed had been moved, and which was +in trim and dreary order. The rain still beat fitfully upon the windows, +and the room was quite dark. Gifford had pushed the writing-desk up to +the window for the last ray of light, and now he sat there, the papers +all arranged and nothing more to do, yet a vague, tender loyalty to the +little dead gentleman keeping him. And sitting, leaning his elbows on the +almost unspotted sheet of blue blotting-paper which covered the open flap +of the desk, he fell into troubled thinking.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said to himself, "she's awfully distressed about Mr. +Denner, but there's something more than that. She seems to be watching +for something all the time; expecting that fellow, beyond a doubt. And +why he is not there oftener Heaven only knows! And to think of his going +off on his confounded business at such a time, when she is in such +trouble! If only for a week, he has no right to go and leave her. His +business is to stay and comfort her. Then, when he is at the rectory, +what makes him pay her so little attention? If he wasn't a born cad, +somebody ought to thrash him for his rudeness. If Lois had a +brother!—But I suppose he does not know any better, and then Lois +loves him. Where's Helen's theory now, I wonder? Oh, I suppose she thinks +he is all right. I'd like to ask her, if I hadn't promised aunt Deborah."</p> + +<p>Just here, Gifford heard the garden gate close with a bang, and some one +came down the path, holding an umbrella against the pelting rain, so that +his face was hidden. But Gifford knew who it was, even before Mary, +shuffling asthmatically through the hall, opened the door to say, "Mr. +Forsythe's here to see you."</p> + +<p>"Ask him to come in," he said, pushing his chair back from the secretary, +and lifting the flap to lock it as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Dick Forsythe came in, shaking his dripping umbrella, and saying with a +good-natured laugh, "Jove! what a wet day! You need a boat to get through +the garden. Your aunt—the old one, I think it was—asked me, if I was +passing, to bring you these overshoes. She was afraid you had none, and +would take cold."</p> + +<p>He laughed again, as though he knew how amusing such nonsense was, and +then had a gleam of surprise at Gifford's gravity.</p> + +<p>"I'd gone to her house with a message from my mother," he continued; "you +know we get off to-morrow. Mother's decided to go, too, so of course +there are a good many things to do, and the old lady is so strict about +Ashurst customs I've had to go round and 'return thanks' to everybody."</p> + +<p>Gifford had taken the parcel from Dick's hand, and thanked him briefly. +The young man, however, seemed in no haste to go.</p> + +<p>"I don't know which is damper, this room or out-of-doors," he said, +seating himself in Mr. Denner's big chair,—though Gifford was +standing—and looking about in an interested way; "must have been a +gloomy house to live in. Wonder he never got married. Perhaps he couldn't +find anybody willing to stay in such a hole,—it's so confoundedly damp. +He died in here, didn't he?" This was in a lower voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gifford answered.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't think you'd stay alone," Dick went on; "it is awfully dismal. +I see he cheered himself once in a while." He pointed to a tray, which +held a varied collection of pipes and a dingy tobacco pouch of buckskin +with a border of colored porcupine quills.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Denner smoked," Gifford was constrained to say.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Dick, clapping his hand upon his breast-pocket, "I'll +have a cigar myself. It braces one up this weather." He struck a match on +the sole of his boot, forgetting it was wet, and vowing good-naturedly +that he was an ass. "No objection, I suppose?" he added, carefully biting +off the end of his cigar.</p> + +<p>"I should prefer," Gifford replied slowly, "that you did not smoke. There +is an impropriety about it, which surely you must appreciate."</p> + +<p>Dick looked at him, with the lighted match flaring bluely between his +fingers. "Lord!" he said, "how many things are improper in Ashurst! But +just as you say, of course." He put his cigar back in an elaborate case, +and blew out the match, throwing it into the fireplace, among the +flowers. "The old gentleman smoked himself, though."</p> + +<p>Gifford's face flushed slowly, and he spoke with even more deliberation +than usual. "Since you have decided not to smoke, you must not let me +detain you. I am very much obliged for the package."</p> + +<p>"You're welcome, I'm sure," Dick said. "Yes, I suppose I'd better be +getting along. Well, I'll say good-by, Mr. Woodhouse. I suppose I sha'n't +see you before I go? And Heaven knows when I'll be in Ashurst again!"</p> + +<p>Gifford started. "Sit down a moment," he said, waving aside Dick's hand. +"Surely you are not leaving Ashurst for any length of time?"</p> + +<p>"Length of time?" answered the other, laughing. "Well, I rather think so. +I expect to go abroad next month."</p> + +<p>A curious desire came into Gifford Woodhouse's strong hands to take this +boy by the throat, and shake him until his ceaseless smile was torn to +pieces. Instead of that, however, he folded his arms, and stood looking +down at his companion in silence.</p> + +<p>Dick had seated himself again, and was twirling his wet umbrella round +and round by the shiny end of one of the ribs. "Yes," he said, "this is a +long good-by to Ashurst."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Forsythe," said Gifford, with an edge of anger in his voice which +could not have escaped even a more indifferent ear than Dick's, "may I +ask if Dr. Howe knows of your plans?"</p> + +<p>Dick looked up, with a sudden ugly shadow coming across the sunny +brightness of his face. "I don't know what I've done to deserve this +concern on your part, Mr. Woodhouse; but, since you ask, I have no +objection to saying that Dr. Howe does not particularly interest himself +in my affairs. I don't know whether he's aware of my plans, and I care +less."</p> + +<p>He rose, and stood grasping his wet umbrella mid-ways, looking defiantly +into Gifford's face. It was singular how instantly, in some wordless way, +he appreciated that he had been blamed.</p> + +<p>Gifford began to speak in the slow, measured tone which showed how he was +guarding his words. "You may not care for his interest," he said, "but +you can scarcely expect that he would not notice your absence."</p> + +<p>"I cannot see that my movements are of so much importance to Dr. Howe," +Dick answered, "and he certainly has never taken it upon himself to +meddle in my affairs to the extent of asking me about them."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," said Gifford, with ominous gentleness, "he must +feel—surprise at your departure. That your business should take you away +at this time, Mr. Forsythe, is unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"I know my business, at least," cried the other loudly, his voice +trembling with anger, "and I'm capable of attending to it without +suggestions from you! I'll trouble you to speak plainly, instead of +hinting. What right have you to question my leaving Ashurst?"</p> + +<p>"No right," Gifford said calmly.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you speak out like a man?" Forsythe demanded with a burst of +rage, striking the table with his fist. "What do you mean by your damned +impudence? So you dare to question my conduct to Lois Howe, do you?—you +confounded prig!"</p> + +<p>"Be silent!" Gifford said between his teeth. "Gentlemen do not introduce +the name of a woman into their discussions. You forgot yourself. It is +unnecessary to pursue this subject. I have nothing more to say."</p> + +<p>"But I have more to say. Who gave you the right to speak to me? The lady +herself? She must be indeed distressed to choose you for a messenger."</p> + +<p>Gifford did not answer; for a moment the dark room was very still, except +for the beating rain and the tapping of the ivy at the south window.</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps," he went on, a sneer curling his handsome mouth, "you will +comfort her yourself, instead? Well, you're welcome."</p> + +<p>Gifford's hands clenched on the back of the chair in front of him. "Sir," +he said, "this place protects you, and you know it."</p> + +<p>But Dick Forsythe was beside himself with anger. He laughed insultingly. +"I'll not detain you any longer. Doubtless you will wish to go to the +rectory to-night. But I'm afraid, even though I'm obliging enough to +leave Ashurst, you will have no"—He did not finish his sentence. Gifford +Woodhouse's hand closed like a vise upon his collar. There were no words. +Dick's struggles were as useless as beating against a rock; his maddest +efforts could not shake off that relentless hand. Gifford half pushed, +half carried, him to the door, and in another moment Dick Forsythe found +himself flung like a snapping cur in the mud and rain of Mr. Denner's +garden.</p> + +<p>He gathered himself up, and saw Gifford standing in the doorway, as +though to offer him a chance of revenge.</p> + +<p>"Damn you!" he screamed, furious with passion. "I'll pay you for this! +I—I"—He choked with rage, and shook his fist at the motionless figure +on the steps. Then, trembling with impotent fury, oaths stumbling upon +his lips, he turned and rushed into the gathering darkness.</p> + +<p>Gifford watched him, and then the door swung shut, and he went back +to Mr. Denner's library. His breath was short, and he was tingling +with passion, but he had no glow of triumph. "I've been a fool," he +said,—"I've been a fool! I've made it worse for her. The hound!"</p> + +<p>But in spite of his genuine contrition, there was a subtile joy. "He does +not love her," he thought, "and she will forget him."</p> + +<p>Yet, as he sat there in Mr. Denner's dark library, filled with remorse +and unabated rage as well, he began to realize that he had been +meddlesome; and he was stung with a sudden sense that it was not +honorable to have pushed his questions upon Forsythe. Gifford's +relentless justice overtook him. Had he not given Forsythe the right to +insult him? Would not he have protected himself against any man's prying? +Gifford blushed hotly in the darkness. "But not to use Lois's name,—not +that! Nothing could justify the insult to her!"</p> + +<p>Mary came in to lock up, and started with fright at the sight of the +dark, still figure. "Lord! it's a ghost!" she cried shrilly.</p> + +<p>"I am here, Mary," he said wearily. "I'm going home now."</p> + +<p>And so he did, walking doggedly through the storm, with his head bent and +his hands in his pockets, forgetful of Miss Deborah's thoughtfulness in +the way of rubbers, and only anxious to avoid any kindly interruption +from his aunts, which their anxiety concerning damp clothes might +occasion. But he could not escape them. Miss Deborah met him at the door +with a worried face. "My dear boy!" she said, "no umbrella? Pray go to +bed directly, and let me bring you a hot drink. You will surely have a +cough to-morrow." But the little lady came back to the parlor with an +aggrieved face, for he had answered her with quiet determination not to +be fussed over. The sisters heard him walk quickly up-stairs and lock his +door. They looked at each other in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"He feels it very much," said Miss Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Miss Deborah; "he has been sorting the papers all the +afternoon. I must go and see Willie to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll do that," Miss Ruth answered. "I cannot help feeling that it +is—my place."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," replied Miss Deborah firmly; "the miniature shows plainly +his sentiments towards me. I know he would wish me to look after Willie. +Indeed, I feel it a sacred duty."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah moved her hands nervously. Mr. Denner's death was too recent +for it to be possible to speak of him without agitation.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Ruth, "perhaps, after all, you are right, in a way. The +miniature is childish. Of course a portrait of himself has a far deeper +meaning."</p> + +<p>"Ruth Woodhouse," cried the other, "I'm ashamed of you! Didn't you tell +me yourself he said it was of no value? And you know how much he thought +of the little sister!"</p> + +<p>"But that was his modesty," said Miss Ruth eagerly. However, both ladies +parted for the night with unaltered convictions, and the younger sister, +opening the daguerreotype for one last look by her bedroom candle, +murmured to herself, "I wonder what Deborah would think if she knew he +said 'Ruth'?"</p> + +<p>The Forsythes went away the next morning. Perhaps it was the early start +which prevented Dick from seeing Gifford again, and finishing the so +summarily ended quarrel, or possibly it was recollection of the weight of +Gifford Woodhouse's hand. Yet he thought he had found a means of revenge.</p> + +<p>In spite of the rain, he had gone to the rectory. Helen was writing to +her husband, and Dr. Howe was reading. "You'll have to see him in the +parlor, Lois," her father said, looking at her over his paper, as Sally +announced Mr. Forsythe.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," replied the rector impatiently, "you know him well enough to +receive him alone. I can't be interrupted. Run along, child."</p> + +<p>"Will you come in, Helen, dear?" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Helen said, glancing at her with absent eyes; it was hard to leave +the intricacies of a theological argument to think of a girl's lover. +"I'll come soon."</p> + +<p>But in a letter to John she forgot every one else, and when Lois went +tremblingly out of the room both the rector and his niece lost themselves +in their own interests.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, Miss Lois," Dick said, coming towards her with extended +hand.</p> + +<p>She could hardly hear her answer for her beating heart.</p> + +<p>"I came to say good-by," he went on, his bright blue eyes fastened +angrily upon her; but she did not see him.</p> + +<p>"You go to-morrow?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered; "but I could not leave Ashurst without—one more look +at the rectory."</p> + +<p>Lois did not speak. Oh, why did not Helen come?</p> + +<p>"A different scene this from that night after the dinner party," Dick +thought, looking at her downcast eyes and trembling hands with cruel +exultation in his face, "If I cared!"</p> + +<p>"How I have adored Ashurst!" he said slowly, wondering how far it would +be safe to go. "I have been very happy here. I hope I shall be still +happier, Lois?"</p> + +<p>Still she did not answer, but she pressed her hands hard together. Dick +looked at her critically.</p> + +<p>"When I come again,—oh, when I come again,—then, if you have not +forgotten me—Tell me you will not forget me, until I come again?"</p> + +<p>Lois shook her head. Dick had drawn her to a seat, and his eager face was +close to hers.</p> + +<p>"I said good-by to the rector this afternoon," he said, "but I felt I +must see you again, alone."</p> + +<p>Lois was silent.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you know," he went on, "how often I shall think of Ashurst, +and of you?"</p> + +<p>He had possessed himself of her hand, which was cold and rigid, but lay +passively in his. She had turned her face away from him, and in a +stunned, helpless way was waiting for the question which seemed on his +lips. "And you know what my thoughts will be," he said meaningly. "You +make Ashurst beautiful."</p> + +<p>He saw the color, which had rushed to her face when he had begun to talk, +fade slowly; even her lips were white. But she never looked at him.</p> + +<p>"You were not always kind to me," he continued, "but when I come back"—</p> + +<p>She turned with a sudden impulse toward him, her breath quick and her +lips unsteady. "Mr. Forsythe," she said, "I"—</p> + +<p>But he had risen. "I suppose I must go," he said in his natural voice, +from which sentiment had fled, and left even a suggestion of alarm. +"It is late, and mother may need something,—you know she's always +needing something. We never can forget your kindness, Miss Lois. +Good-by,—good-by!"</p> + +<p>Though he lingered on that last word and pressed her hand, he had gone in +another moment. Lois stood breathless. She put her hands up to her head, +as though to quiet the confusion of her thoughts. What did it mean? Was +it only to let her see that he still loved her? Was he coming again?</p> + +<p>When Helen, remembering her duties, came into the parlor, it was +deserted, and Lois was facing her misery and fright in her own room, +while Dick Forsythe, raging homeward through the rain, was saying to +himself, "I've put an end to your prospects! She'll wait for me, if it is +six years. It is just as well she doesn't know I'm going abroad. I'll +tell mother not to mention it. Mother was right when she said I could +have her for the asking!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + + +<p>Helen's desire to get back to John made her decide to start on Monday, +instead of waiting until Wednesday, when the fortnight she had planned +for her visit ended.</p> + +<p>"I must go," she said, smiling at Dr. Howe's railings. "I cannot stay +away from home any longer. And you'll come soon, Lois, dear!"</p> + +<p>Even daily letters from John had not saved her from homesickness. They +were a comfort, even though they were filled with pleadings and prayers +that, for her soul's sake, she would see the error of her belief. Such +tenderness struggled through the pages of argument, Helen would lay her +cheek against them, and say softly, "I'll come home to you soon, dear."</p> + +<p>One of these last letters had entreated her to write immediately upon its +receipt, and answer it point by point. She did so, saying at the last, +"Now let us drop the whole subject. I will never, as long as I have +reason, believe this terrible doctrine,—never. So why need we ever speak +of it again? I know it is your fear of eternity which leads you to try to +make me believe it, but, dearest, if eternity depends on this, it is +already settled; let us just be glad together while we can, in this +beautiful time. Oh, I shall soon be home; I can think of nothing else."</p> + +<p>And she counted the hours until she could start. When the morning came, +with its clear June sky, and great white clouds lying dreamily behind the +hills, her face was running over with gladness, in spite of her sympathy +for Lois's grief.</p> + +<p>"How happy you look!" Lois said wistfully, as she sat watching Helen put +on her bonnet before the swinging mirror in its white and gold frame, on +her dressing-table.</p> + +<p>Helen had not known how her eyes were smiling, and she looked with quick +compunction at Lois's white face. "I shall see John so soon," she +answered contritely. "I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"I shall miss you awfully," Lois went on, leaning her forehead against +the edge of the bureau, and knotting the long linen fringe of the cover +with nervous little fingers.</p> + +<p>"But think how soon I'll have you in Lockhaven, dear; and you will be a +little stronger then, and happier, too," Helen said, brightly.</p> + +<p>For Lois was so worn and tired that a less active person would have +called herself ill; as it was, she was not able to bear the long ride to +Mercer and back, and Helen was to go alone, for Dr. Howe had to go out of +Ashurst a little way, to perform a marriage ceremony.</p> + +<p>"You'll have rain before the day is over, my dear," he said, as he put +her into the carriage, "and that will make it better traveling, no dust. +It's a shame that I should have to go in the other direction. Why +couldn't those people get married to-morrow instead of to-day, I should +like to know? Or why couldn't you stay twenty-four hours longer? Could +not stand it to be away from home another minute! Well, well, that's +right,—that's the way it should be. Hope Ward is as anxious to get you +back as you are to run off and leave us; perhaps he doesn't want you, +young lady." The rector laughed at Helen's confident look. "I don't half +like your going to Mercer by yourself," he added.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall get along very well," said Helen cheerily. "I have no doubt +there'll be a letter for me from John at the post-office, and I will get +it as we go through the village. I'll have that to read."</p> + +<p>"It will hardly last all the way to Lockhaven," Lois commented.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it will," answered Helen, with a ripple of joy in her tone, +which, for pure gladness, was almost laughter. "You don't know, Lois!"</p> + +<p>Lois smiled drearily; she was sitting on the steps, her arms crossed +listlessly on her knees, and her eyes fixed in an absent gaze on the +garden.</p> + +<p>"Here's Giff," Helen continued, arranging her traveling-bag and some +books on the opposite seat of the carriage. "I shall just have time to +say good-by to him."</p> + +<p>"That is what I came for," Gifford said, as he took her hand a moment. +"I will bring Lois safely to you in a fortnight."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale was on the porch, and Sally and Jean stood smiling in the +doorway; so, followed by hearty good-bys and blessings, with her hands +full of flowers, and the sunshine resting on her happy face and +glinting through her brown hair, Helen drove away.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale was at the post-office, and came out to hand her the letter she +expected.</p> + +<p>"So you're off?" he said, resting his hand on the carriage door, and +looking at her with a pleasant smile. "You've made me think of the +starling, this last week,—you remember the starling in the Bastile? +'I can't get out,' says the starling,—'I can't get out.' Well, I'm glad +you want to get out, my dear. My regards to your husband." He stood +watching the carriage whirl down the road, with a shade of envy on his +face.</p> + +<p>When Helen had gone, and the little group on the porch had scattered, +Lois rose to go into the house, but Gifford begged her to wait.</p> + +<p>"You stay too much in-doors," he remonstrated; "it has made your face a +little white. Do come into the garden awhile."</p> + +<p>"She does look badly," said Mrs. Dale from the top of the steps, +contemplating her niece critically. "I declare it puts me out of all +patience with her, to see her fretting in this way."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale was experiencing that curious indignation at a friend's +suffering which expends itself upon the friend; in reality her heart was +very tender towards her niece. "She misses the Forsythes," Mrs. Dale +continued. "She's been so occupied with Arabella Forsythe since the +accident, she feels as if she had nothing to do."</p> + +<p>There was no lack of color in Lois's face now, which did not escape +Gifford's eye.</p> + +<p>"Go, now, and walk with Gifford," said Mrs. Dale coaxingly, as though she +were speaking to a child.</p> + +<p>Lois shook her head, without looking at him. "I don't believe I will, if +you don't mind."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Dale was not satisfied. "Oh, yes, you'd better go. You've +neglected the flowers dreadfully, I don't know how long it is since your +father has had any fresh roses in the library."</p> + +<p>"I'll get the garden scissors," Gifford pleaded; "it won't take long just +to cut some roses."</p> + +<p>"Well," Lois said languidly.</p> + +<p>Gifford went through the wide cool hall for the shears and the basket of +scented grass for the posies; he knew the rectory as well as his own +home. Mrs. Dale had followed him, and in the shadowy back hall she gave +him a significant look.</p> + +<p>"That's right, cheer her up. Of course she feels their going very much. +I must say, it does not show much consideration on the part of the young +man to leave her at such a time,—I don't care what the business is that +calls him away! Still, I can't say that I'm surprised. I never did like +that Dick, and I have always been afraid Lois would care for him."</p> + +<p>"I think it is a great misfortune," Gifford said gravely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I don't know," demurred Mrs. Dale. "It is an excellent match; +and his carelessness now—well, it is only to be expected from a young +man who would carry his mother off from—from our care, to be looked +after by a hired nurse. He thought," said Mrs. Dale, bridling her head +and pursing up her lips, "that a lot of 'fussy old women' couldn't take +care of her. Still, it will be a good marriage for Lois. I'm bound to say +that, though I have never liked him."</p> + +<p>The young people did not talk much as they went down into the garden. +Lois pointed out what roses Gifford might cut, and, taking them from him, +put them into the little basket on her arm.</p> + +<p>"How I miss Helen!" she said at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," he answered, "but think how soon you'll see her in +Lockhaven;" and then he tried to make her talk of the lumber town, and +the people, and John Ward. But he had the conversation quite to himself. +At last, with a desperate desire to find something in which she would be +interested, he said, "You must miss your friends very much. I'm sorry +they are gone."</p> + +<p>"My friends?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Forsythe—and his mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she answered quickly.</p> + +<p>"No?" Gifford said, wondering if she were afraid he had discovered her +secret, and hastening to help her conceal it. "Oh, of course you feel +that the change will be good for Mrs. Forsythe?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope it will!" cried Lois, fear trembling in the earnestness of +her voice.</p> + +<p>Gifford had stepped over the low box border to a stately bunch of +milk-white phlox. "Let's have some of this," he said, beginning to cut +the long stems close to the roots; "it always looks so well in the blue +jug."</p> + +<p>His back was toward her, and perhaps that gave him the courage to say, +with a suddenness that surprised himself, "Ah—does Mrs. Forsythe go +abroad with her son?"</p> + +<p>Even as he spoke he wondered why he had said it; certainly it was from no +interest in the sick lady. Was it because he hoped to betray Lois into +some expression of opinion concerning Mr. Forsythe's departure? He +despised himself if it were a test, but he did not stop to follow the +windings of his own motives.</p> + +<p>"Abroad?" Lois said, in a quick, breathless way. "Does he go abroad?"</p> + +<p>Gifford felt her excitement and suspense without seeing it, and he began +to clip the phlox with a recklessness which would have wrung Dr. Howe's +soul.</p> + +<p>"I—I believe so. I supposed you knew it."</p> + +<p>"How do you know it?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"He told me," Gifford admitted.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" she said in a quavering voice.</p> + +<p>Gifford had turned, and was stepping carefully back among the plants, +sinking at every step into the soft fresh earth. He did not look at her, +as he reached the path.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" she said again.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered reluctantly, "yes, he is going; I don't know about his +mother."</p> + +<p>Here, to his dismay, he saw the color come and go on Lois's sad little +face, and her lip tremble, and her eyes fill, and then, dropping her +roses, she began to cry heartily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lois!" he exclaimed, aghast, and was at her side in a moment. But +she turned away, and, throwing her arm about an old locust-tree in the +path, laid her cheek against the rough bark, and hid her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't cry, Lois," he besought her. "What a brute I was to have told +you in that abrupt way! Don't cry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she said, "no, no, no! you must not say that—you—you do not +understand"—</p> + +<p>"Don't," he said tenderly, "don't—Lois!"</p> + +<p>Lois put one hand softly on his arm, but she kept her face covered. +Gifford was greatly distressed.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have told you in that way,"—Lois shook her +head,—"and—and I have no doubt he—they'll come to Ashurst and +tell you of their plans before they start."</p> + +<p>Lois seemed to listen.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gifford continued, gaining conviction from his desire to help her, +"of course he will return."</p> + +<p>Lois had ceased to cry. "Do—do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it," Gifford answered firmly; and even as he spoke, he had a +mental vision, in which he saw himself bringing Dick Forsythe back to +Ashurst, and planting him forcibly at Lois's feet. "I ought to have +considered," he went on, looking at her anxiously, "that in your +exhausted state it would be a shock to hear that your friends were going +so far away; though Europe isn't so very far, Lois. Of course they'll +come and tell you all about it before they go; probably they had their +own reasons for not doing it before they left Ashurst,—your health, +perhaps. But no doubt, no possible doubt, that Mr. Forsythe, at least, +will come back here to make any arrangements there may be about his +house, you know."</p> + +<p>This last was a very lame reason, and Gifford felt it, for the house had +been closed and the rent paid, and there was nothing more to do; but he +must say something to comfort her.</p> + +<p>Lois had quite regained her composure; even the old hopeless look had +returned.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," she said. "I am very—foolish. I don't know why I am +so weak—I—I am still anxious about Mrs. Forsythe, you know; the long +journey for her"—</p> + +<p>"Of course," he assured her. "I know how it startled you."</p> + +<p>She turned to go into the house, and Gifford followed her, first picking +up the neglected roses at her feet.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you think of me," she said tremulously.</p> + +<p>"I only think you are not very strong," he answered tenderly, yet keeping +his eyes from her averted face; he felt that he had seen more than he had +a right to, already. His first thought was to protect her from herself; +she must not think she had betrayed herself, and fancy that Gifford had +guessed her engagement. He still hoped that, for the sake of their old +friendship, she would freely choose to tell him. But most of all, she +should not feel that she had shown despairing love for a man who +neglected and slighted her, and that her companion pitied her. He even +refused to let his thought turn to it.</p> + +<p>"You must not mind me, Lois. I quite understand—the suddenness of +hearing even the most—indifferent thing is enough to upset one when one +is so tired out with nursing, and all that. Don't mind me."</p> + +<p>"You are so good, Gifford," she said, with a sudden shy look from under +her wet lashes, and a little lightening of her heavy eyes.</p> + +<p>It was at least a joy to feel that he could comfort her, even though it +cut his own heart to do so, and the pain of it made him silent for a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>When they had reached the steps, Lois's face had settled into its white +apathy, which was almost despair. "I think I'll go in, Giff," she said. +"I am so tired."</p> + +<p>"Won't you fix the roses?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "No, I—I don't care anything about them; Sally can +do it. Just leave them on the steps."</p> + +<p>She gave him a wan little smile, and went into the house. Gifford stood +in the sunshine, with the roses and the white phlox, and looked after her +retreating figure. But in spite of his heartache, he would not leave the +flowers to die, so he went hunting about for something to put them in, +and finding the India china punch-bowl, with its soft blues and greens +of enamel, and twists of roses and butterflies over groups of tiny +mandarins, he brought it out, and laid his flowers in it, a little +clumsily, perhaps, and heedless that some of the stems stuck out; but +as he forgot the water, this did not so much matter. Then he carried it +into the hall, and put it down on the table under the square window, and +plodded home alone.</p> + +<p>The noon sunshine poured hot and bright through the little panes of +glass, and when Lois, later in the day, found the withered, drooping +roses and the hanging heads of the white phlox, she felt they were only +in keeping with all the rest of life.</p> + +<p>Even the sparkling day had darkened, and Dr. Howe's prophecy of rain had +been fulfilled.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + + +<p>It grew quite chilly towards dusk, which gave Dr. Howe an excuse for +putting a match to the dusty pile of logs in the library fireplace. He +liked the snap and glow of the flames, and did not object to the mild, +soft heat; so he sat there long after Lois had gone wearily up-stairs to +bed, and the rectory was full of drowsy silence.</p> + +<p>Outside, the tree which leaned toward the house bent and swayed in the +wind, and scratched against the weather boards, while the rain came in a +quick dash against the glass, and then seemed to listen for an answer, +and waver, and retreat, and go sweeping down among the bushes in the +garden.</p> + +<p>The rector had not lighted his lamp; the faint, still light from two +candles in the row of silver candlesticks on the tall mantel was all he +wanted until he began to read. He was ready to do that later. A church +journal, with an account of a quarrel between a High-Church clergyman and +his Low-Church Bishop, was within reach of his hand, and the "Three +Guardsmen," in a ragged yellow cover, was astride his knee, but now he +was content to sit and think. He made a prosperous and comfortable +figure, reflected in the dim, dark mirror over the mantel, where the +candles shone back like stars in a pool at night. A white moth had found +its way into the house, and fluttered back and forth between the candles, +its little white ghost following it in the glass. The rector watched it +placidly. Even his thoughts were tranquil and comfortable, for he was +equally indifferent both to the bishop and his rebellious clergyman. +There was a cup of mulled wine simmering by the brass dogs, and the +fire sputtered and sung softly. Max, with his nose between his paws, +watched it with sleepy eyes. The little tinge of melancholy in Dr. Howe's +face did not interfere with a look of quiet satisfaction with life; +perhaps, indeed, it gave an added charm to his ruddy, handsome features. +At first he had been thinking of Mr. Denner; not of that distressing day +when he had told him of approaching death,—that was too painful for such +an hour, he meant to meet it later,—but of the sad vacancy the little +gentleman had left.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the consciousness of the thought from which he was hiding turned +his mind to Helen, and here all was satisfactory. There had been no +discussion, none of the theological argument that her letters had given +him cause to dread, which had made him feel a quiver in that solid rock +of custom that a long-quieted earthquake had once shaken to its centre. +He felt in a vague way that his niece was not quite so near and familiar, +and there was a subtile reserve, which did not show itself in words or +any check in the expression of her love, but which was certainly there. +Yet he did not analyze it; he did not care to realize that perhaps she +feared to speak of what was so real to her, because she knew he had no +help for her. Dr. Howe would have perfectly understood that this must +inevitably create a distance between them; but it would have been +extremely painful to have let this creep into his thoughts, just as it +would have been painful for him had she spoken of it; so he preferred to +say to himself that all was well. The child had gotten over all that +foolishness; he would have disliked to find fault with her, as he must +have done had she mentioned it; he was glad it was all forgotten. He was +glad, too, Lois was going to Lockhaven to see her. Poor little Lois! Ah, +poor Denner! Well, well, there are some very sad things in life. And he +lifted his mug of mulled wine, and drank thoughtfully, and then crossed +his legs again on the fender; and the rain beat and sobbed outside.</p> + +<p>He wondered if Lois's pale face had any connection with the departure of +the Forsythes. Mrs. Dale had hinted at it, though she had not dared to +quote Arabella Forsythe's triumphant secret. Then he remembered how +disappointed he had been that nothing came of that affair. But on the +whole it would have been very lonely at the rectory without Lois. It was +just as well. Dr. Howe generally found that most things were "just as +well." Indeed, he had been heard to say that, with a good digestion, any +sorrow showed itself to have been best inside three years. Perhaps he had +forgotten for the moment that he was a widower; but at all events, he +said it.</p> + +<p>So he blew his logs to a brighter blaze, and drank the rest of his mulled +wine, stirring it round and round for the nutmeg and spice, and said to +himself, listening to the beat of the rain as he pulled Max's silky ears, +that it was the worst June storm he remembered. Perhaps that was why he +did not hear the front door open and close with a bang against the gust +which tried to force its way into the house, blowing out the hall lights, +and sending a dash of rain into Sally's face.</p> + +<p>"Lord!" cried Sally, with a shrill scream, "it's Miss Helen's ghost!"</p> + +<p>The face she saw was ghost-like indeed. It was wet and streaming with +rain, and the dark eyes were strange and unseeing.</p> + +<p>"Do not tell Miss Lois I am here," the pale lips said. "Where is my +uncle? I must see him."</p> + +<p>Sally could only point speechlessly to the library door. Helen went +swiftly towards it. She seemed to hesitate a moment before she entered, +and then she opened it, and closed it again behind her, standing silently +in front of it.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe looked up calmly, expecting to see Sally; but the sight of that +still figure, with eyes which looked at him with a curious fixedness, +sent the color from his face in one moment of actual fright. "Helen!" he +cried, springing to his feet. "Good heavens! child, what is it? What is +the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I have come back," she answered, uttering each word with that peculiar +slowness one notices in a very sick person, who tries to hear himself +speak.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe had turned to light the lamp, but his hand shook, and Helen +absently steadied the shade until he raised the wick, and then fumbled +for his glasses, and turned to look at her. It was a relief to hear her +speak.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, his voice still tremulous, "you alarmed me terribly. +Why, how wet you are!" He had laid his hand upon her shoulder to help her +take off her wraps. "Bless my soul, child, you're drenched! Did you come +in an open carriage? But why are you here? Did you miss your train?"</p> + +<p>Even as he spoke, before she silently shook her head, he knew she would +have been back by noon had she missed her train.</p> + +<p>Max had come and sniffed suspiciously at her skirts before he recognized +her, and then he rubbed his head against her knee, and reached up to be +patted. She let her hand rest a moment on his head, and then with cold, +stiff fingers tried to help her uncle take off her cloak, and lift her +bonnet from her dripping hair. She made no effort to wipe the rain from +her face, and Dr. Howe, with his big handkerchief, tried clumsily to do +it for her.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my dear?" the rector was saying nervously. "Is +anything wrong with Mr. Ward? Have you had bad news? Tell me, my +darling; you distress me by your silence."</p> + +<p>Helen's throat seemed dry, and she moved her lips once or twice before +the words came. "I have come back," she answered slowly, looking with +absent eyes at Max, who was furtively licking her hand. "I have had a +letter from John. So I have come back. I am very tired."</p> + +<p>She looked wearily around, and swayed a little from side to side. Dr. +Howe caught her in his arms. "My dear," he said, in a frightened voice, +"my dear—you are very ill. I'll fetch Jean—I'll send for Adele!"</p> + +<p>Helen laid her shaking hand upon his arm. "No, no,—I am not ill. I am +only tired. I walked from Mercer, I think; I don't quite remember. Please +do not call any one, uncle."</p> + +<p>In spite of the wildness of her words, it was not a delirious woman who +was speaking to him, as he had thought. "Try and tell me, then, what it +all means," he said; "or stay,—first let me get you a glass of wine."</p> + +<p>He went shuffling along in his slippers to the dining-room, and came back +with a wineglass and the little fat decanter, with the silver collar +clinking about its neck. He filled the glass, and held it to her lips, +and then stood and looked at her as she drank, his lower lip thrust out, +and perplexity and anxiety written on every feature.</p> + +<p>Helen handed the glass back to him, and rose. "Thank you, uncle Archie," +she said. "I—I must go up-stairs now. I am tired."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear child," he remonstrated, "my dear Helen, you must tell me +what all this means, first."</p> + +<p>She looked at him entreatingly. "Not now,—oh, not to-night."</p> + +<p>"But, Helen," he said, "I can't be kept in suspense, you know."</p> + +<p>He tried to put his arm about her, but she pushed it a little aside and +shook her head. "I will tell you," she said, while Dr. Howe, not +understanding his repulse, stood with parted lips and frowning eyebrows, +polishing his glasses on the skirt of his dressing-gown. Helen rubbed her +hand across her forehead.</p> + +<p>"I am a little confused," she began, "but—there is not much to say. John +has written that I must not come back to Lockhaven. I shall never see my +husband again, uncle Archie," she added piteously.</p> + +<p>"Why—why—why!" cried Dr. Howe. "Bless my soul, what's all this? Mr. +Ward says my niece is not to return to her husband! Oh, come, now, come!"</p> + +<p>"Need we say anything more to-night?" Helen said. "I—I cannot talk."</p> + +<p>Nothing could have shown Dr. Howe's affection for his niece more than the +way in which he said, looking at her in silence for a moment, "My child, +you shall do just what you please. Come up-stairs now, and get to bed. It +will be a mercy if you're not laid up with a cold to-morrow. Would you +rather not see Lois? Well, then, Jean shall come and make you +comfortable."</p> + +<p>But Dr. Howe, shuffling over the bare stairs, and fuming to himself, +"What's all this! Nonsense, I say, perfect nonsense!" could not fail to +arouse Lois, and she called out drowsily, "Good-night, father, dear. Is +anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing,—nothing!" cried the rector testily. "Go to sleep. Come, Helen, +take my arm, and let me help you."</p> + +<p>"Helen!" Lois exclaimed, wide awake, and springing from her bed to rush +to her cousin. "What is it?" she gasped, as she caught sight of the +group.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, I tell you," said the rector. "Go to bed at once; you'll take +cold."</p> + +<p>But Helen, seeing the distressed face, put her hands on Lois's shoulders, +and pushed her gently back into her room. "I had to come back, Lois," she +said. "I will tell you why, to-morrow. I am too tired, now. Don't speak +to me, please, dear."</p> + +<p>The rector had hurried down the entry to find Jean, who indeed needed no +rousing, for Sally had told her who had come. "Let me know when Miss +Helen is comfortable," he said.</p> + +<p>And when the old woman, awed by Helen's still, white face, told him his +niece was in bed, he came up again, holding the decanter by the throat, +and begging her to take another glass of wine. But she only turned her +head away and asked to be alone. She would not say anything more, and did +not seem to hear his assurances that it would be "all right in the +morning," and that "she must not worry."</p> + +<p>It was the kindest thing to her, but it was very hard for the rector to +go down to his library still in ignorance. The spell of peace had been +rudely broken, and his fire was out. He lifted Helen's bonnet, still +heavy with rain, and laid it on the cloak she had thrown across a chair, +and then stood and looked at them as though they could explain the +mystery of her return. The tall clock on the stairs struck eleven, and +outside the storm beat and complained.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe was up early the next morning. He went through the silent house +before Sally had crept yawning from her room, and, throwing open the +doors at each end of the hall, let a burst of sunshine and fresh wind +into the darkness and stillness. Then he went out, and began to walk up +and down the porch as a sort of outlet to his impatience. Over and over +he said, "What can it be?" Indeed, Dr. Howe had asked himself that +question even in his dreams. "I hope there's no woman at the bottom +of it," he thought. "But no; Ward's a fool, but he is a good man."</p> + +<p>He stopped once, to lift a trailing vine and twist it about a support. +The rain had done great damage in the night: the locust blossoms had been +torn from the trees, and the lawn was white with them; the soft, wet +petals of the climbing roses were scattered upon the path by the side of +the house; and a long branch of honeysuckle, wrenched from its trellis, +was prone upon the porch. These small interests quieted the rector, and +he was able soon to reason himself into the belief that his niece's +return was a trifling affair, perhaps a little uncomfortable, and +certainly silly, but he would soon make it all right; so that when he saw +her coming slowly down-stairs, with Lois creeping after her, almost +afraid to speak, he was able to greet her very tranquilly.</p> + +<p>"Are you rested, my child? After breakfast, we'll have a good talk, and +everything shall be straightened out."</p> + +<p>Breakfast was a dreary affair. Helen's abstraction was too profound for +her to make even the pretense of eating. Once or twice, when Lois's voice +pierced through the clouds and reached her heart, she looked up, and +tried to reply. But they were all glad when it was over, and the rector +put his arm gently over his niece's shoulders, and drew her into the +library.</p> + +<p>"If any one comes, Lois," he said, "you had better just say Helen changed +her mind about going yesterday, and has come back for a few days."</p> + +<p>"No," interrupted Helen slowly. "You had better say what is the truth, +Lois. I have come back to Ashurst to stay."</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear," remonstrated the rector when they were in the library, +and he had shut the door, "that is really very unwise. These little +affairs, little misunderstandings, are soon cleared up, and they are even +forgotten by the people most interested in them. But outsiders never +forget. So it is very unwise to speak of them."</p> + +<p>Helen had seated herself on the other side of his writing-table, brushing +away the litter of papers and unanswered letters, so that she could lean +her elbow on it, and now she looked steadily across at him.</p> + +<p>"Uncle," she said, calmly "you do not know. There is no misunderstanding. +It is just what I told you last night: he thinks it best that I should +leave him indefinitely. I know that it is forever. Yes, it seems to him +best. And I am sure, feeling as he does, he is right. Yes, John is +right."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe threw himself back in his revolving chair, and spun half-way +round. "Helen," he said, "this is folly; you must talk like a sensible +woman. You know you cannot leave your husband. I suppose you and Ward, +like all the rest of the world that is married, have had some falling +out; and now, being young, you think your lives are over. Nonsense! +Bless my soul, child, your aunt and I had dozens of them, and all as +silly as this, I'll be bound. But I'm sure we did not take the public +into our confidence by declaring that we would live apart. I should have +given you credit for more sense, indeed I should."</p> + +<p>Helen did not notice the reprimand.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me all about it," he continued. "You know you can trust me, and +I'll write your husband a letter which will make things clear."</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head wearily. "You will not understand. Nothing can be +done; it is as fixed as—death. We can neither of us alter it and be +ourselves. Oh, I have tried and tried to see some way out of it, until it +seems as if my soul were tired."</p> + +<p>"I did not intend to be severe, my child," the rector said, with +remorseful gentleness, "but in one way it is a more serious thing than +you realize. I don't mean this foolishness of a separation; that will all +be straightened out in a day or two. But we do not want it gossiped +about, and your being here at all, after having started home, looks +strange; and of course, if you say anything about having had a—a falling +out with Ward, it will make it ten times worse. But you haven't told me +what it is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll tell you," she answered, "and then perhaps you will see that +it is useless to talk about it. I must just take up the burden of life as +well as I can."</p> + +<p>"Go on," said the rector.</p> + +<p>"John has been much distressed lately," Helen began, looking down at her +hands, clasping each other until the skin was white across the knuckles, +"because I have not believed in eternal punishment. He has felt that my +eternal happiness depended upon holding such a belief." Dr. Howe looked +incredulous. "Some weeks ago, one of his elders came to him and told him +I was spreading heresy in the church, and damning my own soul and the +souls of others who might come to believe as I did,—you know I told Mrs. +Davis that her husband had not gone to hell,—and he reproached John for +neglecting me and his church too; for John, to spare me, had not preached +as he used to, on eternal punishment. It almost killed him, uncle," she +said, and her voice, which had given no hint of tears since her return, +grew unsteady. "Oh, he has suffered so! and he has felt that it was his +fault, a failure in his love, that I did not believe what he holds to be +true."</p> + +<p>"Heavens!" cried the rector explosively, "heresy? Is this the nineteenth +century?"</p> + +<p>"Since I have been away," Helen went on, without noticing the +interruption, "they have insisted that I should be sessioned,—dealt +with, they call it. John won't let me come back to that; but if that were +his only reason, we could move away from Lockhaven. He has a nobler +reason: he feels that this unbelief of mine will bring eternal misery to +my soul, and he would convert me by any means. He has tried all that he +knows (for oh, we have discussed it endlessly, uncle Archie!),—argument, +prayer, love, tenderness, and now—sorrow."</p> + +<p>The rector was sitting very straight in his chair, his plump hands +gripping the arms of it, and his lips compressed with anger, while he +struggled for patience to hear this preposterous story through.</p> + +<p>"He makes me suffer," Helen continued, "that I may be saved. And indeed I +don't see how he can do anything else. If a man believes his wife will be +damned for all eternity unless she accepts certain doctrines, I should +think he would move heaven and earth to make her accept them. And John +does believe that. In denying reprobation, I deny revelation, he says, +and also the Atonement, upon which salvation depends. So now you see +why he says I shall not come back to him until I have found the truth."</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Howe burst into a torrent of indignant remonstrance. A clergyman +send his wife from him because she does not believe some dogma! Were we +back in the dark ages? It was too monstrously absurd! If the idiots he +preached to forced him to do it, let him leave them; let him come to +Ashurst. The rector would build him a meeting-house, and he could preach +his abominable doctrine to anybody who was fool enough to go and hear +him.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe was walking hastily up and down the room, gesticulating as he +talked. Helen's patient eyes followed him. Again and again she tried to +point out to him her husband's intense sincerity, and the necessity which +his convictions forced upon him. But the rector refused to think Mr. +Ward's attitude worthy of serious consideration. "The man is insane!" +he cried. "Send his wife away from him to force her into a certain +belief? Madness,—I tell you, madness!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot hear you speak so of my husband," Helen said very quietly, but +it caused Dr. Howe to conceal his wrath.</p> + +<p>"He'll think differently in a day or two," he said. "This nonsense won't +last."</p> + +<p>Then Helen, having exhausted all her arguments to show that John was +immovable, said, "Let me read you what he says himself; then you will +understand, perhaps, how real it all is to him, and how he cannot help +it."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" cried Dr. Howe, and certainly it was trying to have Helen attempt +to excuse such folly. "I've no patience with—There, there! I didn't +mean to lose my temper, but bless my soul, this is the worst thing I ever +knew. See here, Helen, if the man is so determined, you'll have to change +your views, or go back to your old views, I mean,—I don't know what you +do believe,—that's all there is about it."</p> + +<p>Helen was unfolding John's letter, and she looked up at her uncle with a +fleeting smile. "Change my views so that I can go back? Do you think that +would satisfy John? Do you think I could? Why, uncle Archie, do you +believe in eternal damnation? I know you pray to be delivered from it in +the Litany, but do you believe in it?"</p> + +<p>"That has nothing to do with the question, Helen," he answered, frowning, +"and of course I believe that the consequences of sin are eternal."</p> + +<p>"You know that is not what the prayer means," she insisted; "you have +to put your private interpretation upon it. Well, it is my private +interpretation which John thinks is sin, and sin which will receive what +it denies."</p> + +<p>"Well, you must believe it, then," the rector said, striking his fist on +the arm of his chair; "it is the wife's place to yield; and while I +acknowledge it is all folly, you must give in."</p> + +<p>"You mean," she said, "that I must say I believe it. Can I change a +belief? You know I cannot, uncle Archie. And when you hear what John +says, you will see I must be true, no matter where truth leads me."</p> + +<p>Helen knew every word of that letter by heart. She had read it while she +drove towards the depot, and when she dismissed the carriage it was with +a vague idea of flying to Lockhaven, and brushing all this cobweb of +unreason away, and claiming her right to take her place at her husband's +side. But as she sat in the station, waiting, every sentence of the +letter began to burn into her heart, and she slowly realized that she +could not go back. The long day passed, and the people, coming and going, +looked curiously at her; one kindly woman, seeing the agony in her white +face, came up and asked her if she were ill, and could she help her? +Helen stared at her like a person in a dream, and shook her head. Then, +in a numb sort of way, she began to understand that she must go back to +Ashurst. She did not notice that it had begun to rain, or think of a +carriage, but plodded, half blind and dazed, over the country road to her +old home, sometimes sitting down, not so much to rest as to take the +letter from its envelope again and read it.</p> + +<p>She looked at it now, with a sudden gasp of pain; it was as though a +dagger had been turned in a wound. It seemed too sacred to read to Dr. +Howe, but it was just to John that it should be heard, even if only +partly understood; and it was also just to her—for Helen had one of +those healthy souls which could be just to itself. With the letter had +come a clear and logical statement of the doctrine of reprobation, +together with the arguments and reasons for holding it; besides this, +there was a list of books which he meant to send her. All these she +handed to her uncle.</p> + +<p>"I will not read you all he writes," she said, "but even a little will +show you the hopelessness of thinking I can ever go back to him. He tells +me first of a meeting of his Session, where the elders told him they +wished to have me summoned before them, and of another visit from Mr. +Dean, of whom I spoke to you, insisting that John had been faithless in +his duty to his church and me. 'I could only listen,' he writes, 'in +assenting anguish, when he charged me with having been careless of your +spiritual life; and when he said that the sin of your unbelief had crept +from soul to soul, like an insidious and fatal disease unseen by the eyes +of the church, until spiritual death, striking first one and then +another, roused us to our danger. How can I write that word "us," as +though I arrayed myself with them against you, dearest! Yet it is not +you, but this fatal unbelief! They charged me, these elders, whose place +it is to guard the spiritual life of the church, with having preached +peace to them, when there was no peace, and leaving unspoken the words of +warning that eternal death awaits unrepented sin. They told me Davis had +died in his sin, not having had the fear of hell before his eyes to +convert his soul. And, Helen, I know it is all true! When they insisted +that you, like any other member of the church, should be brought before +the Session, that they might reason with you, and by the blessing of God +convert your soul to a saving knowledge of the truth, or at least bind +you to silence for the sake of others, I would not listen. Here I felt my +right was greater than theirs, for you are like my own soul. I told them +I would not permit it; I knew it would but drive you further from grace. +I cannot think I sinned in this, though I apparently neglect a means of +salvation for you; but I could not subject you to that,—I could not put +your soul into their hands. I distrust myself (I have need, having loved +earthly happiness more than your immortal peace, and called it wisdom), +yet I think I am right in this. God grant that the means of grace which I +choose instead, which will crucify my own heart, may, by his blessing, +save your soul. And I have faith to believe it will. The promises of God +fail not.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, Helen, if I loved you less! Sometimes, in these two weeks, while +this purpose has been growing up in my mind, I have shrunk back, and +cried that I could not drink of the cup, and in the depth of human +weakness I have felt, if I loved her less, I could not do what I have to +do, and so the pain would be spared. But love is too mighty for me. I +shall save you! When I think of the months since we were married, which +I have kept unruffled by a single entreaty that you would turn from +darkness into light, my eyes are blasted by the sight of my own sin; +despair and death lay hold upon me. But He has had mercy upon me. He has +shown me one way in which you shall be saved, and by his strength I am +not disobedient to the heavenly vision. Reason and argument have not +shown you the light. Joy and peace have not led you to it. There is one +other path, beloved, which I have faith to believe shall not fail. It is +sorrow. Sorrow can bring the truth home to you as no other thing will. +The relentless pressure of grief will force you to seek for light. It +will admit of no evasion; it will receive no subtilty; it will bring you +face to face with the eternal verities; it will save your soul. And what +sorrow, Helen, can come to you such as making me suffer? And is there a +pang which can tear my soul in this world like absence from my beloved? I +trample my own happiness under my feet. Too long I have been weak, too +long I have loved you with but half my nature; now I am strong. Therefore +I say, before God, for your soul's sake, you shall not see my face until +you have found the truth. This pain, which will be to me but the just +punishment for my sin, will be to you like some sharp and bitter medicine +which shall heal you of what would otherwise bring eternal death. Even as +I write I am filled with strength from God to save you. For God has shown +me the way. And it shall be soon,—I know it shall be soon. The Lord's +hand is not shortened that it cannot save. He has revealed to me the one +last way of showing you the truth, and He will lighten your eyes. Yet, +oh, my love, my wife, help me to be strong for you,—my Helen, help me in +these days or weeks of waiting.</p> + +<p>"'There is one mercy vouchsafed to me who am all unworthy of the least +favor: it is the knowledge of your understanding it all,—the bitter +distress, the absolute conviction, and the necessity which follows it. +You see what the temptation was to fly with you to some spot where your +unbelief could not injure any one, and there work and pray for your +salvation; leaving these souls, which my neglect of you and so of them, +has allowed to drift deep into sin. You will understand that, believing +(oh, knowing, Helen, knowing) that salvation depends upon a right +conception of truth, I have no choice but to force you by any means to +save your soul. This knowledge makes me strong. So I am set, with +strength which you yourself give me, to inflict this suffering upon you. +Take this absence and use its bitterness to sting you to search for +truth. Take its anguish to God. Pray for light, pray for the Spirit of +God. And when light comes—Oh, love, the thought of that joy seems too +great to bear except before the throne of God! I shall not write again; +you will meet this grief in the solitude of your own soul, where even I +dare not come to break the silence which may be the voice of God. Write +me any questionings, that I may help those first faint stirrings of the +Holy Spirit, but unless questionings come I shall be silent.'"</p> + +<p>Helen had not read all of this aloud, and there was yet more, on which +she looked a moment before she folded the letter. The closing words were +full of a human tenderness too divine and holy for any heart but her own; +a faint smile crept about her lips for a moment, as she leaned out of her +distress to rest upon her husband's love, and then she woke again to the +present.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + + +<p>But the rector was not softened by John's letter; there was a curl of +contempt upon his lip which colored his words, though with Helen's quiet +eyes upon him he forced himself to speak calmly.</p> + +<p>"You see he expects you to return. This idea of yours, of a separation, +is nonsense. I told you so in the first place. Now the only thing to do +is to go to Lockhaven, and just say that your convictions are immovable +(if they are, though it would be wiser to make a concession, Helen), so +there is no use in experimenting in this absurd way. Absurd? Why +it is—it is"—</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe's face was crimson, and he could find no epithet strong enough +to use.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose I have not told John that I could not change?" Helen said +sadly, ignoring the suggestion of a concession; "and to go back, uncle +Archie,—you don't know John! He thinks I will come back,—you are right +there,—but only because he thinks this plan of his is an inspiration +from God, and will lead me to believe as he wishes. It will not, and you +know it. But John would feel that he was doubting God to let me come, if +the promise were unfulfilled. So I shall never return. Oh, must we +discuss it? It is fixed; it can never be changed. If only it could be +understood at once! There is no hope."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe rose, and walked about the room a moment, breathing hard, and +swallowing once or twice, as though to choke some hot words. Then he sat +down, and began to argue.</p> + +<p>First, he tried to prove to Helen that there was a hell, but +unconsciously he veered to assertions that it made no difference, anyhow; +that of course the doctrine of eternal damnation was preposterous, and +that she must persuade Mr. Ward to drop the subject. He reasoned and +threatened, then he expostulated and implored, ending all with, "You must +go back, and at once."</p> + +<p>Helen had been silent, but when he finished she said, so absently that he +knew she had not been listening, "Shall I explain why I have come back, +or would you prefer to do it?"</p> + +<p>"Explain?" cried the rector. "What are you thinking of? Of course not! It +is not to be known."</p> + +<p>"It must be known, I think," Helen answered calmly. "I am here, and I +shall stay here, so it seems to me better to disarm gossip by telling the +truth at once."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe sunk back in his chair, and looked at his niece in speechless +annoyance.</p> + +<p>"You had better let me tell them, uncle Archie," she said simply; "it +will be less unpleasant for you."</p> + +<p>Then he regained his voice: "It is not to be told, Helen. I shall not +allow it. If you have no sense, I'll take the matter into my own hands. +If people choose to gossip about your being here a few days or a +week,—it may take a week for this folly to blow over,—why, they can, +that's all. I will not—you hear me, Helen?—I will not enter into any +absurd explanations."</p> + +<p>Helen lifted her heavy eyes, and looked at him a moment, and then she +said, "Aunt Deely?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe suffered a sudden collapse. "Well, I—ah—well, perhaps Adele. I +suppose Adele must know it. I don't know but what her common sense may be +good for you, my dear. Yes, I'll tell Adele."</p> + +<p>"I should like to have Lois understand it," Helen said.</p> + +<p>"Well," Dr. Howe conceded, "yes—I suppose you might mention it to +Lois—because"—</p> + +<p>"I don't want her to think anything wrong of John," Helen explained.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe stared at her blankly, but did not burst into wrathful +exclamations; he was actually exhausted in mind and body; this +controversy had been too much for him. But that remark of Helen's ended +it. She went slowly up-stairs, clinging to the balustrade as though she +needed some support, yet she had not spoken of being tired. She passed +Lois, sitting on the window-seat which ran across the broad landing, but +did not seem to see her, and there was something in her cousin's face +which kept the young girl dumb.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe did not go to Dale house until the next day; he vaguely hoped +something would turn up before his sister discovered Helen's presence at +the rectory, which would make this humiliating confession unnecessary. +But nothing happened except the arrival of a letter from John Ward to Dr. +Howe, explaining his convictions and reiterating his determination.</p> + +<p>Helen kept in her own room that day and the next, so Gifford Woodhouse, +who came to the rectory, did not guess her presence, since Lois had been +admonished to be silent concerning it, and no one else chanced to call. +Of course the servants knew. Dr. Howe ground his teeth as he reflected +that Sally would probably tattle the whole thing; the more so, if she +were charged not to mention it. Yet he was rather relieved, when he went +to tell his sister, to find that she knew the main fact already.</p> + +<p>"Helen's back again!" she cried as soon as she saw him.</p> + +<p>He found her in the big cool dining-room, cutting out pieces of paper for +the tops of her pots of strawberry jam, and fringing them delicately with +a little pair of shining scissors.</p> + +<p>"Well, Archibald," she said, looking at him over her glasses, as he +sat down at the other end of the polished table, "this is pretty hot, +isn't it? I'll have Betty bring you a sangaree; there's a fan on the +window-sill, if you want it; I never have patience to use a fan. Henry's +in his library. I declare, it is as cold as a vault in that room; but +you'd better not go down. We Howes are too rheumatic for such damp +places."</p> + +<p>Betty brought the sangaree, and the rector diverted himself while he put +off the evil moment of explanation, by clinking the ice against the +glass.</p> + +<p>"Betty was down in the village last night," Mrs. Dale was saying, "and +she saw your Sally, and she told her Helen did not get off on Monday. +What in the world does that mean? I do dislike to see the child so +changeable. I suppose she wants to wait and go with Lois, after all? But +why didn't she make up her mind before she started? And all this talk +about getting back to her husband! Oh, these young wives,—they don't +mind leaving their husbands!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's back," said the rector gloomily.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Mrs. Dale asked quickly, for his tone did not escape +her.</p> + +<p>Then he told her the whole story. There was a moment's silence when he +had finished. At last Mrs. Dale said violently, "Well!" and again, +"Well!" After that she rose, and brushing the clippings of paper from her +black silk apron, she said, "We will go and talk this over in the parlor, +Archibald."</p> + +<p>The rector followed her, miserably. Though he had a clear conscience, in +that he had treated the ridiculous affair with the utmost severity, and +had done all he could to make Helen return to her husband, he yet +trembled as he thought how his sister would reproach him. ("Though I +can't help it!" he said to himself. "Heaven knows I used every argument +short of force. I couldn't compel a reluctant wife to return to an +unwilling husband, especially when she thinks the husband is all right.") +"You see, she approves of Ward," he groaned.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale sat down, but the rector walked nervously about, jingling some +keys in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"It is very distressing," he said.</p> + +<p>"Distressing?" cried Mrs. Dale. "It is worse than distressing. It is +disgraceful, that's what it is,—disgraceful! What will Deborah Woodhouse +say, and the Draytons? I tell you, Archibald, it must be put a stop to, +at once!"</p> + +<p>"That is very easy to say," began Dr. Howe.</p> + +<p>"It is very easy to do, if there's a grain of sense in your family. Just +send your niece"—</p> + +<p>"She's your niece, too, Adele," he interrupted.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Dale did not pause—"back to her husband. You ought to have +taken her yesterday morning. It is probably all over Ashurst by this +time!"</p> + +<p>"But you forget," objected Dr. Howe, "he won't let her come; you can't +change his views by saying Helen must go back."</p> + +<p>"But what does it matter to her what his views are?" said Mrs. Dale.</p> + +<p>"It matters to him what her views are," answered Dr. Howe despondently. +Somehow, since he had begun to talk to his sister, he had grown almost as +hopeless as Helen.</p> + +<p>"Then Helen must change her views," Mrs. Dale said promptly. "I have no +patience with women who set up their own Ebenezers. A woman should be in +subjection to her own husband, I say,—and so does St. Paul. In my young +days we were taught to love, honor, and obey. Helen needs to be reminded +of her duty, and I'll see that she is."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish you success," said the rector grimly.</p> + +<p>"And I'll have it!" Mrs. Dale retorted.</p> + +<p>"But you don't take into consideration," Dr. Howe said, "that Helen will +not say one thing when she thinks another. How can you change a person's +belief? I have been all over it, Adele. It is perfectly useless!"</p> + +<p>The brother and sister looked at each other a moment silently; then Mrs. +Dale said, "Well, if you ask my advice"—</p> + +<p>"I didn't; there's no use. Helen will be her own adviser, you can depend +upon that. I only just wanted you to know the facts. No outsider can +direct the affairs of a man and woman who are entirely determined."</p> + +<p>"I am not an outsider," returned Mrs. Dale, "though you can call yourself +one, if you choose. And I am going to give you advice, and I hope you'll +be sensible enough to take it. You have just got to go and see this Mr. +Ward, and tell him he must take Helen back; tell him we cannot have such +things in our family. A wife separated from her husband,—why, good +gracious, just think of it, Archibald!"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose I haven't thought of it?" demanded the rector.</p> + +<p>"And Helen must go," continued Mrs. Dale, "belief or no belief."</p> + +<p>Her brother shook his head, and sighed.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it will do any good for me to see him, but of course +I shall go to Lockhaven unless I get a favorable answer to my letter. +I wrote him yesterday. But do you imagine that any talk of our feelings +is going to move a man like Ward? His will is like iron. I saw that in +his letter to Helen. I suppose it pains him to do this. I suppose he does +suffer, in a way. But if he can contemplate her distress unmoved, do you +think anything I can urge will change him? He'll wait for her conversion, +if it takes her whole life."</p> + +<p>"But Helen has been confirmed," said Mrs. Dale, in a bewildered way; +"what more does he want?"</p> + +<p>"He wants her to be converted, I tell you," cried her brother, "and he's +bound to bring it about! He uses the illustration of giving medicine to a +sick child to insure its recovery, no matter at what cost of pain to the +child or the giver."</p> + +<p>"But isn't it the same thing?" persisted Mrs. Dale: +"converted—confirmed? We don't use such expressions in the Church, +but it is the same thing."</p> + +<p>"'Experience a change of heart,' Ward says in his letter; 'be convicted +of the sin of unbelief'!" the rector said contemptuously, and ignoring +his sister's question; "but conversion with him merely means a belief in +hell, so far as I can make out."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course Helen is all wrong not to believe in hell," said Mrs. +Dale promptly; "the Prayer-Book teaches it, and she must. I'll tell her +so. All you have to do is to see this Mr. Ward and tell him she will; and +just explain to him that she has been confirmed,—we don't use those +Methodistical expressions in the Church. Perhaps the sect he belongs to +does, but one always thinks of them as rather belonging to the lower +classes, you know. I suppose we ought not to expect anything else from +such a person,—who ever heard of his people? I always said the marriage +would turn out badly," she added triumphantly. "You remember, I told you +so?"</p> + +<p>The rector sighed. After all, Mrs. Dale did not help him. It was useless +to try to impress her with the theological side of the matter, as she +only returned with fresh vigor to the charge that it was a disgrace to +the family. So he rose to go, saying, "Well, I'll wait for Ward's letter, +and if he persists in this insanity I'll start for Lockhaven. You might +see Helen, and see what you can do."</p> + +<p>As Mrs. Dale began in her positive way to say how he ought to talk to +"this man," Mr. Dale came in.</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard your voice," he said to his brother-in-law, "and I +came up"—he looked deprecatingly at his wife—"to ask you to step down +and have a pipe. I want to speak to you about Denner's books."</p> + +<p>But before Dr. Howe could answer, Mrs. Dale poured forth all the +troublesome and disgraceful story of the "separated husband and wife." +Mr. Dale listened intently; once he flourished his red handkerchief +across his eyes as he blew his nose. When he did this, he scattered some +loose tobacco about, and Mrs. Dale stopped to reprimand him. "I tell +you," she ended emphatically, "it is this new-fangled talk of woman's +rights that has done all this. What need has Helen of opinions of her +own? A woman ought to be guided by her husband in everything!"</p> + +<p>"You see it is pretty bad, Henry," said the rector.</p> + +<p>"It is,—it is," said the older man, his mild eyes glistening; "but oh, +Archibald, how he loves her!"</p> + +<p>"Loves her?" cried the other two together.</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued Mr. Dale slowly; "one feels as if we ought not even to +discuss it, for we are scarcely capable of understanding it. The place +whereon we stand is holy ground."</p> + +<p>"Henry," said his wife, "there's no fool like an old fool. You don't +know what you are talking about."</p> + +<p>But when Dr. Howe, softening a little since Mr. Dale did not abuse John +Ward, said he must tell Helen that,—it would please her,—Mrs. Dale +begged him to do nothing of the sort.</p> + +<p>"It would be just like her to consider the whole affair a unique mode of +expressing affection. We had better try to show her it is a disgrace to +the family. Love, indeed! Well, I don't understand love like that!"</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Dale responded, "no, I suppose not. But, my dear, don't you +wish you did?"</p> + +<p>When Dr. Howe told Helen of his plan of going to Lockhaven, she tried +to show him that it was useless; but as she saw his determination, she +ceased to oppose him. She would have spared John if she could (and she +knew how impossible it was that the rector could move her husband), yet +she felt that her family had a right to insist upon a personal +explanation, and to make an effort, however futile, to induce her husband +to take her home. In the mean time, they waited for an answer to the +rector's letter. Helen had written, but she knew no answer would come to +her. She understood too well that sweet and gentle nature, which yielded +readily in small things, and was possessed of invincible determination in +crises, to hope that John could change. Yet she had written; she had +shared her hopelessness as well as her grief with him, when she told him +how impossible it was for her to think as he did. She showed how fast and +far she had drifted into darkness and unbelief since she had left him, +yet she held out no hope that a return to him could throw any light into +those eternal shadows. "I understand it all," she had written, stopping +to comfort him even while she told him how futile was his pain and hers, +"and oh, how you must suffer, my darling, but it cannot be helped unless +you free yourself from your convictions. Perhaps that will come some +time; until then, you can only be true to yourself. But I understand it +all,—I know."</p> + +<p>Those days of waiting were hard to bear. The distance between her uncle +and herself had suddenly widened; and she could not see that beneath his +irritation there was really a very genuine sympathy.</p> + +<p>She had vaguely hoped that Lois would comfort her, for one turns +instinctively in grief to the nearest loving thing, and she knew her +cousin loved her. Yet Lois had not been able to understand, and Helen +would hear no words of sympathy which were not as much for John as for +herself.</p> + +<p>It was not until Thursday that she had told Lois why she had come back. +They were in their pleasant sitting-room, Lois walking restlessly about, +with such puzzled expectation on her face that its white sadness was +almost banished. Helen sat with her hands clasped loosely in her lap, and +leaning her head against the window. Below, there was the bloom and glory +of the garden, butterflies darted through the sunshine, and the air was +full of the honeyed hum of the bees. But the silence of the room seemed +only a breathless anxiety, which forbade rest of mind or body; and so +Helen had roused herself, and tried to tell her cousin what it all meant; +but even as she talked she felt Lois's unspoken condemnation of her +husband, and her voice hardened, and she continued with such apparent +indifference Lois was entirely deceived. "So you see," she ended, "I +cannot go back to Lockhaven."</p> + +<p>Lois, walking back and forth, as impatient as her father might have been, +listened, her eyes first filling with tears, and then flashing angrily. +She threw herself on her knees beside Helen, as she finished, and put her +arms about her cousin's waist, kissing her listless hands in a passion of +sympathy. "Oh, my dear!" she cried, her cheeks wet with tears, "how +dreadful—how horrible! Oh, Helen, darling, my poor darling!"</p> + +<p>Lois did not stop to consider the theological side of the matter, which +was a relief to Helen. She tried to quiet the young girl's distress, +holding her bright head against her breast, and soothing her with gentle +words.</p> + +<p>"If I were you," Lois said at last, "I would go back to Lockhaven; I +would <i>go</i>, if it had to be in disguise!"—</p> + +<p>"Not if you loved John," Helen answered.</p> + +<p>"How can you bear it?" Lois whispered, looking up into the calm face with +a sort of awe which checked her tears. "It is so cruel, Helen, you cannot +forgive him."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to forgive; I hoped you would understand that, Lois. +John cannot do anything else, don't you see? Why, I would not love him as +I do, if, having such convictions, he was not true to them. He must be +true before anything else."</p> + +<p>Lois was sitting on the floor in front of her, clasping her knees with +her arms, and rocking back and forth. "Well," she cried hotly, "I don't +understand anything about his convictions, but I tell you what it is, +Helen, I do understand how hard it is for you! And I can never forgive +him, if you can. It is all very well to think about truth, but it seems +to me he ought to think about you."</p> + +<p>"But don't you see," Helen explained, still vaguely hoping that Lois +would understand, "he thinks only of me? Why, Lois, it is all for me."</p> + +<p>Lois's face was flushed with excitement. "I don't care!" she cried, "it +is cruel—cruel—cruel!"</p> + +<p>Helen looked at her steadily a moment, and then she said patiently, "The +motive is what makes cruelty, Lois. And can't you see that it is only +because of his love that he does this? If he loved me less, he could not +do it."</p> + +<p>"Heavens!" Lois exclaimed, springing to her feet, "I wish he loved you +less, then! No, there is no use saying things like that, Helen; he is +narrow and bigoted,—he is a cruel fanatic." She did not see that Helen +had half risen from her chair, and was watching her with gleaming eyes. +"He actually prides himself on being able to make you suffer,—you read +me that yourself out of his letter. He's a bad man, and I'm glad you've +done with him"—</p> + +<p>She would have said more, but Helen had followed her swiftly across the +room, and grasping her arm until the girl cried out with pain, she put +her hand over those relentless young lips. "Hush!" she cried, in a +terrible voice; "do not dare to speak so to me! If I hear such words +again, I shall leave this house. You may not be able to see my husband's +nobleness, but at least you can be silent."</p> + +<p>Lois pushed her hand away, and stared at her in amazement. "I didn't mean +to offend you," she stammered. "I only meant that he"—</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of him!" Helen said passionately, her breath still quick, +and her face white to the lips. "I do not wish to hear what you meant! +Oh, Lois, Lois, I thought that you"—She turned away, and pressed +her hands hard on her eyes a moment; then she said, "I understand—I +know—your affection for me prompted it—but I cannot listen, Lois, if +you have such feelings about him. I will take your sympathy for granted +after this. I do not want to talk about it again."</p> + +<p>Lois went silently out of the room, her heart overflowing with love for +her cousin, and added rage at the man who had come between them. She +found Gifford walking about in the hall down-stairs, and, forgetful of +her father's injunction, she went quickly up to him, trembling with +excitement, and half sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Giff—oh, Giff—that man, that John Ward, has sent Helen back! She's +here—she can't go home!"</p> + +<p>Gifford was too astounded to speak.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Lois cried, clinging to his arm, her eyes overflowing, "he is a +wicked man—he is cruel—and she thinks I am, Giff, just because I said +he was!"</p> + +<p>Lois's agitation drove him into his most deliberate speech.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"Of course not! Nobody could think of anything so awful. Come into the +library, and I'll tell you. Father does not want it spoken of, Gifford, +but since you know she's here, I might as well explain."</p> + +<p>The room was deserted, except for Max, who was stretched on the cool +hearthstones; it was full of dusky shadows lurking in the wainscoted +corners; the outside shutters were bowed, and only two thin streaks of +sunshine traveled in from the warm sweet garden outside. Some roses in a +bowl on the table filled the air with fragrance.</p> + +<p>Lois hurried nervously through the story, breaking into angry grief that +John Ward should have made Helen angry at her. For she had told Gifford +how she had tried to console her cousin.</p> + +<p>"It makes me hate John Ward more than ever!" she said, striking her hands +passionately together. "Oh, Giff, isn't it awful?"</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!" said the young man, deeply moved, "poor Ward! It is worse +for him than it is for Helen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how can you say so?" she cried; "but I'm sure I hope it is!"</p> + +<p>"He won't weaken," Gifford went on slowly. "He will stand like a rock for +what he believes is right, and he will be more apt to believe it is right +if it nearly kills him."</p> + +<p>"I wish it would! And Helen, poor darling, thinks he loves her. What sort +of love does he call this?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is love," Gifford answered; "and I tell you, Lois, it is a height +of love that is ideal,—it is the measure of Ward's soul." They were both +so much in earnest, there was not the slightest self-consciousness in +this talk of love, even though Gifford added, "I never knew a man capable +of such devotion, and there are few women like Helen, who could inspire +it."</p> + +<p>"But, Giff," Lois said, not caring to discuss John Ward's character, "did +you suppose anybody could be so narrow? Think how bigoted he is! And +nobody believes in hell now as he does."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that, Lois," Gifford responded slowly. "Lots of +people do, only they don't live up to their belief. If the people who say +they believe in hell were in dead earnest, the world would have been +converted long ago."</p> + +<p>"He is a wicked man!" Lois cried inconsequently.</p> + +<p>But Gifford shook his head. "No, he is not. And more than that, Lois, you +ought to consider that this belief of Ward's, if it is crude, is the husk +which has kept safe the germ of truth,—the consequences of sin are +eternal. There is no escape from character."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she answered, "but that is not theology, you know: we don't +put God into that."</p> + +<p>"Heaven help us if we do not!" the young man said reverently. "It is +all God, Lois; perhaps not God as John Ward thinks of Him, a sort of +magnified man, for whom he has to arrange a scheme of salvation, a kind +of an apology for the Deity, but the power and the desire for good in +ourselves. That seems to me to be God. Sometimes I feel as though all +our lives were a thought of the Eternal, which would have as clear an +expression as we would let it."</p> + +<p>Lois had not followed his words, and said impatiently as he finished, +"Well, anyhow, he is cruel, and Helen should not have felt as she did +when I said so."</p> + +<p>Gifford hesitated. "She could not help it. How could she let you say it?"</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Lois, "you think he's not cruel?"</p> + +<p>"His will is not cruel," Gifford answered, "but I meant—I meant—she +couldn't let you speak as you did of John Ward, to his wife."</p> + +<p>Lois flung her head back. "You think I said too much?" she asked. "You +don't half sympathize with her, Gifford. I didn't think you could be so +hard."</p> + +<p>"I mean it was not quite kind in you," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you think it wasn't right?"</p> + +<p>"No, Lois, it was not right," he answered, with a troubled face.</p> + +<p>"Well, Gifford," she said, her voice trembling a little, "I'm sorry. But +it seems I never do do anything right. You—you see nothing but faults. +Oh, they're there!" she cried desperately. "Nobody knows that better than +I do; but I never thought any one would say that I did not love Helen"—</p> + +<p>"I didn't say so, Lois," the young man interrupted eagerly; "only I felt +as though it wasn't fair for me to think you did not do just right, and +not tell you so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," Lois said lightly, "but I don't think we are so very +friendly that I can claim such consideration. You are always finding +fault—and—and about Helen you misunderstand; we can say anything to +each other. I am afraid I exaggerated her annoyance. She knew what I +meant,—she said she did; she—she agreed with me, I've not a doubt!"</p> + +<p>"I always seem to blunder," Gifford said, his face stinging from the cut +about friendship. "I never seem to know how to tell the truth without +giving offense—but—but, Lois, you know I think you are the best woman +in the world."</p> + +<p>"You have a pretty poor idea of women, then," she responded, a lump in +her throat making her voice unsteady, "but I'm sure I don't care what you +think. I have a right to say what I want to Helen."</p> + +<p>She ran out of the room, for she would not let Gifford see her cry. "I +don't care what he thinks!" she said, as she fled panting into the attic, +and bolted the door as though she feared he would follow her. But then +she began to remember that he had said she was the best woman in the +world, and to her dismay she found herself smiling a little. "What a +wretch I am!" she said sternly. "Mr. Denner is dead, and Helen is in such +distress, and—and Dick Forsythe may come back! How can I be pleased at +anything?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Of course it was soon known that Helen Ward was at the rectory, but to +the Misses Woodhouse, at least, her presence was not of enough importance +to speculate or gossip about. Gifford had merely said Helen had changed +her mind about going, and would be in Ashurst a few days longer, and the +little ladies had such an absorbing interest of their own they did not +ask many questions. Miss Ruth only remarked that she wondered how she +could be satisfied to stay away from her husband so long, and Miss +Deborah replied that the young did not understand serious attachment.</p> + +<p>To both sisters a vague happiness had come in these last few weeks, and a +certain sense of importance. Each felt it for herself, but was unable to +realize it for the other, yet constantly encountered it with irritated +astonishment, when the desire to confide was strong.</p> + +<p>Once Miss Ruth, tearful with the memory of that last look from Mr. +Denner's dying eyes, tried to approach the subject delicately, but +was met with such amazing certainty on the part of Miss Deborah, and +a covert allusion to the value of the miniature, that she was silenced. +And again,—on Dr. Howe's return from Lockhaven,—Miss Deborah's +condescension in telling Miss Ruth she might accompany her to the +graveyard fell somewhat flat when she found that her sister had intended +going, and had even picked some flowers to put on Mr. Denner's grave. +However, they went together, a gentle seriousness on each face, and in +an unusual silence. Their parents were buried here, so that it was not +altogether sentiment which made them sad.</p> + +<p>A white, dusty road climbed the hill which overlooked the village on the +east, and on its brow, facing the sunrise, was the little group of +Ashurst's dead.</p> + +<p>The blossoming grass grew long and tangled here; the gray headstones +slanted a little, or had even fallen, and some of the inscriptions were +hidden by moss. The place was full of shadowy silence, only broken by the +rustle of the leaves and small bird-cries, or, from down in the valley, +the faint tinkle of a cow-bell. Cypresses stood dark against the blue +sky, swaying a little in the soft wind, and from the top of one of them +flew suddenly a brown hawk, his shadow floating from the green dusk under +the trees out over the sunny meadow below.</p> + +<p>The two sisters went to the graves of their father and mother first, and +laid some flowers on them, and stood a moment looking at them silently. +Their sighs were rather a reverent recognition of an old grief than real +sorrow, for it was many years ago that these two had been laid here; the +simple souls were too happy to understand the pathos of a forgotten +grief, indeed, they did not even know that they had forgotten it.</p> + +<p>As they turned away, Miss Ruth said in a hushed voice, "It is over +by Dr. Howe's lot, sister. You can see it under that larch." So they +went towards this one new grave, stepping softly, and stopping by some +familiar name to brush away the grass that hid the inscription, or lay +a blossom against the stone. They spoke once or twice of those who lay +there, calling them by their first names, yet with that curious lowering +of the voice which shows with what dignity death has invested what was +once familiar.</p> + +<p>They were silent as they laid their flowers on the fresh earth of Mr. +Denner's grave, over which the kindly grass had not yet thrown its veil; +and Miss Deborah stopped to put a single rose upon the sunken, mossy spot +where, forty years before, the little sister had been laid to rest. Both +the little ladies frankly wiped their eyes, though with no thought except +for the old friendship which had ended here. They would have turned to +go, then, but Miss Deborah laid her hand on Miss Ruth's arm. "Why, +sister," she said, "who is that by Mary Jeffrey's grave?"</p> + +<p>Some one was lying upon the grass, her cheek resting against the small +marble cross at the head of the grave, and one arm thrown around it.</p> + +<p>"It must be Helen!" answered Miss Ruth anxiously. "How imprudent!"</p> + +<p>They went towards the prostrate figure,—there were no divisions in the +Ashurst burying-ground,—and Miss Deborah stooped and touched her on the +shoulder, saying in a shocked voice, for Helen was shaken with sobs, +"Why, my dear child, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Helen started violently, and then sat up, brushing the tears away, and +struggling to speak calmly. "I—I did not know any one was here."</p> + +<p>"We were just going," Miss Ruth replied in her kind little voice, "but we +were grieved to see you troubled, my dear?"</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth could not help saying it in a questioning way, for, in spite +of Ashurst traditions of parental love, it could hardly be imagined that +Helen was crying for a mother she had never known.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," Helen said, the tears still trembling in her eyes. +"Something did trouble me—and—and I came here."</p> + +<p>The sisters spoke some gentle words of this young mother, dead now for +more than twenty years, and then went softly away, full of sympathy, yet +fearing to intrude, though wondering in their kind hearts what could be +the matter. But their curiosity faded; Mr. Denner's grave was a much more +important thing than Helen's unknown grief.</p> + +<p>"I dare say she misses her husband?" Miss Ruth suggested.</p> + +<p>But Miss Deborah thought that quite improbable. "For she could go home, +you know, if that was the case."</p> + +<p>And here the sisters dropped the subject.</p> + +<p>As for Helen, she still lingered in the silent graveyard. She felt, with +the unreasoning passion of youth, that the dead gave her more comfort +than the living. Lois had scarcely dared to speak to her since that talk +in their sitting-room, and Dr. Howe's silence was like a pall over the +whole house. So she had come here to be alone, and try to fancy what her +husband and her uncle had said to each other, for Dr. Howe had refused to +enter into the details of his visit.</p> + +<p>His interview with her husband had only resulted in a greater bitterness +on the part of the rector. He had waited for John Ward's answer to his +letter, and its clear statement of the preacher's position, and its +assertion that his convictions were unchangeable, gave him no hope that +anything could be accomplished without a personal interview. Discussion +with a man who actually believed that this cruel and outrageous plan of +his, was appointed by God as a means to save his wife's soul, was absurd +and undignified, but it had to be. The rector sighed impatiently as he +handed her husband's letter to Helen.</p> + +<p>"He is lost to all sense of propriety; apparently he has no thought of +what he owes you. Well, I shall go to Lockhaven to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It is all for me!" Helen said. "Oh, uncle Archie, if you would just +understand that!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe gave an explosive groan, but he only said, "Tell Lois to pack my +bag. I'll take the early train. Oh, Helen, why can't you be like other +women? Why do you have to think about beliefs? Your mother never doubted +things; why do you? Isn't it enough that older and wiser people than you +do not question the faith?"</p> + +<p>At the last moment he begged her to accompany him. "Together, we can +bring the man to his senses," he pleaded, and he secretly thought that +not even the hardness and heartlessness of John Ward could withstand the +sorrow in her face. But she refused to consider it.</p> + +<p>"Have you no message for him?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Sha'n't I tell him how you—miss him, Helen?"</p> + +<p>A light flashed across her face, but she said simply, "John knows," and +her uncle had to be content with that.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe grew more intolerant with each mile of his journey. Every +incident touched him with a personal annoyance at the man he was going to +see. The rattling, dingy cars on the branch railroad afflicted him with +an irritated sense of being modern; the activity about the shabby station +jarred upon his remembrance of Ashurst's mellow quiet; the faces of the +men in the lumber-yards, full of aggressive good-nature, offended his +ideas of dignity and reserve. A year ago, Dr. Howe would have thought all +this very entertaining, and simple, and natural. Now, that a man who +lived in such a place, among such people, should have it in his power to +place the Howes in a conspicuous and painful position was unbearable!</p> + +<p>By the time he reached the parsonage, to which an officious young person +of whom he had inquired his way conducted him, he had attained a pitch of +angry excitement which drove all theological arguments out of his mind. +Alfaretta greeted him with a blank stare, and then a sudden brightening +of her face as he gave his name.</p> + +<p>"You're her uncle!" she cried. "How is she? and when is she comin' back? +She ain't sick?"—this with quick alarm, for Dr. Howe had not answered +her questions.</p> + +<p>"No, no, my good woman," he said impatiently, "certainly not. Where is +your master?"</p> + +<p>"The preacher's not home," the girl answered coldly. She was not used to +being called "my good woman," if she did live out. "You can wait, if you +want to;" but there, her anxiety getting the better of her resentment, +she added, "Is she comin' back soon?"</p> + +<p>"I'll wait," said Dr. Howe briefly, walking past her into John Ward's +study.</p> + +<p>"Insufferable people!" he muttered. He looked about him as he entered the +room, and the poverty of the bookshelves did not escape his keen eyes, +nor the open volume of Jonathan Edwards on the writing-table. There was +a vase beside it, which held one dried and withered rose; but it is +doubtful if the pathos of the flower which was to await Helen's return +would have softened him, even if he could have known it. He stopped and +glanced at the book, and then began to read it, holding it close to his +eyes, while, with his other hand behind him, he grasped his hat and +stick.</p> + +<p>He read the frequently quoted passages from Edwards, that God holds man +over hell as a man might hold a spider or some loathsome insect over the +fire, with the satisfaction one feels in detecting a proof of the vicious +nature of an enemy. "Ward is naturally cruel," he said to himself. "I've +always thought so. That speech of his about slavery showed it."</p> + +<p>He put down the book with an emphasis which argued ill for his opinion of +a man who could study such words, and began to pace up and down the room +like some caged animal, glancing once with a smothered exclamation at the +old leather-covered volume, which had fallen upon the floor; he even gave +it a furtive kick, as he passed.</p> + +<p>He was so occupied with his own thoughts, he did not see John Ward come +up the garden path and enter the parsonage, and when, a moment +afterwards, the preacher came into the room, Dr. Howe started at the +change in him. These weeks of spiritual conflict had left their mark upon +him. His eyes had a strained look which was almost terror, and his firm, +gentle lips were set in a line of silent and patient pain. Yet a certain +brightness rested upon his face, which for a moment hid its pallor.</p> + +<p>Through fear, and darkness, and grief, through an extraordinary +misconception and strange blindness of the soul, John Ward had come, in +his complete abnegation of himself, close to God. Since that June night, +when he met the temptation which love for his wife held out to him, he +had clung with all the passion of his life to his love for God. The whole +night, upon his knees, he besought God's mercy for Helen, and fought the +wild desire of flight the longing to take her and go away, where her +unbelief could not injure any one else, and devote his life to leading +her to light; go away from his people, whom God had committed to him, and +whom he had betrayed, leave them, stained with the sin he had permitted +to grow unchecked among them, and give his very soul to Helen, to save +her. But the temptation was conquered. When the faint, crystal brightness +of the dawn looked into his study, it saw him still kneeling, his face +hidden in his arms, but silent and at peace. God had granted his prayer, +he said to himself. He had shown him the way to save Helen. At first he +had shrunk from it, appalled, crying out, "This is death, I cannot, I +cannot!" But when, a little later, he went out into the growing glory of +the day, and, standing bareheaded, lifted his face to heaven, he said, +"I love her enough, thank God,—thank God." A holy and awful joy shone in +his eyes. "God will do it," he said, with simple conviction. "He will +save her, and my love shall be the human instrument."</p> + +<p>After that had come the days when John had written those imploring +letters to his wife, the last of which she had answered with such entire +decision, saying that there was no possible hope that she could ever +believe in what she called a "monstrous doctrine," and adding sorrowfully +that it was hard even to believe in God,—a personal God, and she could +be content to let doctrines go, if only that light upon the darkness of +the world could be left her.</p> + +<p>Then he had sent his last letter. He had written it upon his knees, his +eyes stung with terrible tears; but his hand did not falter; the letter +was sent. Then he waited for the manifestation of God in Helen's soul: +he distrusted himself and his own strength, but he never doubted God; +he never questioned that this plan for converting his wife was a direct +answer to his prayers.</p> + +<p>Now, when he saw Dr. Howe, he had a moment of breathless hope that her +uncle had come to tell him that Helen had found the truth. But almost +before the unreasonableness of his idea struck him, he knew from Dr. +Howe's face that the time was not yet.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you," he said, a little hurriedly; the thin hand he +extended was not quite steady.</p> + +<p>The rector's forehead was gathered into a heavy frown. "See here," he +answered, planting his feet wide apart, and still holding his hat and +stick behind him, "I cannot give you my hand while you are ignorant of +the spirit in which I come."</p> + +<p>"You come for Helen's sake," John replied.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I do come for Helen's sake," returned Dr. Howe, "but it is +because of your conduct, because of the heartless way in which you have +treated my niece. You cannot expect me to have a friendly feeling for the +man who is cruel to her." For the moment he forgot that this was to be a +theological dispute. "Now, sir, what explanation have you to give of this +outrageous affair?"</p> + +<p>"Helen's soul shall be saved," John said, his voice growing firmer, but +losing none of its gentleness.</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe made an impatient gesture. "Helen's soul!" he cried. "Is it +possible that a sane man can seriously excuse his conduct on such a +ground? Why, it is incredible! How do you suppose the world will regard +your action?"</p> + +<p>"What have you or I to do with the world?" the other answered.</p> + +<p>"We live in it," said Dr. Howe, "and if we are wise men we will not, for +a mad whim, violate its standards of propriety. When a man turns his wife +out of his house, he must consider what meaning is attached to such an +action by the world. You blast Helen's life, sir, and her family is +necessarily involved in the same disgrace."</p> + +<p>John looked at him with clear, direct eyes. "I save Helen's soul, and her +family will rejoice with me when that day comes."</p> + +<p>"Her family," the other replied contemptuously, "are not troubled about +Helen's soul; they are quite satisfied with her spiritual condition."</p> + +<p>"Do they know what it is?" John asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered the rector, "of course. But it isn't of the +slightest consequence, anyhow. The main thing is to cover up this +unfortunate affair at once. If Helen comes back right away, I think +no one need know what has happened."</p> + +<p>"But there is nothing to cover up," John said simply; "there is no shame +that Helen should accept God's way of leading her to himself."</p> + +<p>"Lord!" exclaimed Dr. Howe, and then stopped. This would never do; if +Ward became angry, he would only grow more obstinate.</p> + +<p>"If you are so troubled about her unbelief," the rector said, feeling +that he was very wily, "I should think you would see the need of daily +influence. You could accomplish more if she were with you. The constant +guidance of a clergyman would be of the utmost value. I suppose you think +she is with me, but I doubt"—his lip curled a little—"if I can give her +quite the instruction you desire."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had not hoped for that," John answered. "But her surroundings +will not influence Helen now. Impelled by my grief, she must search for +truth."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe was too much excited to notice the reproof in John's words. +"Well, it will teach her to think; it will push her into positive +unbelief. Agnosticism!—that's what this 'search for truth' ends in +nowadays! Come, now, be reasonable, Ward; for Heaven's sake, don't be +a—a—don't be so unwise. I advise this really in your own interests. +Why, my dear fellow, you'll convert her in half the time if she is with +you. What? And don't you see that your present attitude will only drive +her further away? You are really going against your own interests."</p> + +<p>"Do not play the part of the Tempter," John said gently; "it ill becomes +Christ's minister to do that. Would you have me pray for guidance, and +then refuse to follow it when it comes? God will give me the strength and +courage to make her suffer that she may be saved."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe stared at him for a moment. Then he said, "I—I do not need you +to teach me my duty as Christ's minister, sir; it would be more fitting +that you should concern yourself with your duty as a husband." The vein +in his forehead was swollen with wrath. "The way in which you pride +yourself upon devising the most exquisite pain for your wife is +inhuman,—it is devilish! And you drag her family into the scandal of +it, too."</p> + +<p>John was silent.</p> + +<p>Again Dr. Howe realized that he must control himself; if he got into a +passion, there would be an end of bringing about a reconciliation.</p> + +<p>"You made me forget myself," he said. "I didn't mean to speak of my own +feelings. It is Helen I want to talk about." Perhaps some flash of memory +brought her face before his eyes. "Sit down," he added brusquely,—"you +look tired;" and indeed the pallor of John's face was deadly.</p> + +<p>The rector, in his impatience, sat on the edge of his chair, one plump +fist resting on the table, and the other hand clenched on the head of +his cane. His arguments and entreaties were equally divided, but he +resolutely checked the denunciations which trembled upon his lips. John +answered him almost tenderly; his own grief was not so absorbing that +he could be indifferent to the danger of a man who set the opinion of the +world before the solemn obligations of his profession. Carefully, and +fully, and very quietly, he explained his position in regard to his +parish; but when Dr. Howe urged that Helen might observe all proper +forms, and yet keep silence on what was, after all, a most immaterial +difference, John roused to sudden passion. Here was an old temptation.</p> + +<p>"God forbid!" he said. "Observe forms, and let her hope of spiritual life +die? No, no,—not that. Form without soul is dead. You must have seen +that too often."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you what to do," said the rector, in his eagerness +pulling his chair closer to John's, and resting his hand almost +confidentially upon his knee: "if you fear her influence in your +parish,—and of course I understand that,—why, give her a letter +to another church."</p> + +<p>John half smiled, but did not answer. The room had grown dark as they +talked, and now Alfaretta brought a lamp, looking curiously at the +rector, as she passed him. "Supper's ready, Mr. Ward," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," John said. "Dr. Howe, I hope"—</p> + +<p>But the rector plunged again into argument. Once he stopped, and said, +"So, surely, she can return?"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible," John answered quietly.</p> + +<p>And again, "You will let me send her back?"</p> + +<p>And he said, "No."</p> + +<p>At last, wearied and baffled, Dr. Howe rose. He leaned heavily forward +on the table, his open palm resting on the volume of sermons, which +Alfaretta had lifted from the floor, and he looked steadily at John. +"Then, sir," he said slowly, "I am to understand, for my niece, that this +monstrous decision of yours is fixed and unchangeable? We cannot hope +that her love, or her youth, or your duty, or the miserable scandal of +the affair, will ever move your cruel determination?"</p> + +<p>John rose, too. The interview had been a terrible strain. His courage +was unshaken, but his strength was leaving him; a pathetic desire for +sympathy and understanding seized him. "I love her too much to change. +Don't you understand? But I cling to more than human strength, when I +say, I will not change."</p> + +<p>"Then, by Heaven," cried the rector, "neither shall she! With my consent +she shall never return to a man who reads such books as those," and he +pointed to the row of Edwards,—"a man who denies good in anything +outside his own miserable conception of religion; the very existence of +whose faith is a denunciation and execration of every one who does not +agree with him. You are firm, sir? So is she! I bid you good-day."</p> + +<p>He turned to the door, breathing hard through his shut teeth. John Ward +followed him, and laid his hand upon his arm. "Do not go," he said; +"there is much I would like to say; and you will spend the night here +with me? I beg that you will not go."</p> + +<p>"The roof which refuses to shelter my niece," answered Dr. Howe, his +voice shaking with anger, "shall not be over my head!"</p> + +<p>"Then," said John slowly and gently, "you must listen now to what I have +to say."</p> + +<p>"Must!" cried the rector.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for it is your duty to listen, as it is mine to speak. I dare not +hear a servant of God set the opinion of the world above a conception +of duty—no matter how strained and unnatural the duty may appear to +him—and keep silence. I cannot listen when you urge Helen's temporal +happiness, and refuse to consider her eternal welfare, and not tell you +you are wrong. You evade the truth; you seek ease in Zion. I charge you, +by the sacred name of Him whose minister you are, that you examine your +own soul."</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe looked at him, his face crimson with anger. "Sir," he stammered, +flinging the detaining hand from his arm,—"sir!" And then, for the first +time since Archibald Howe took orders, an oath burst from his lips; he +struck his stick madly against the table, and rushed from the room.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta was lying in wait for him at the garden gate, a large and +rustic bunch of flowers in her hand, which she hoped he would carry to +Helen.</p> + +<p>"How's Mrs. Ward?" she said, trying to detain him. "When will she be +home?"</p> + +<p>"Get out of my way, girl!" he cried, and, slamming the gate behind him, +he strode down the street.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + + +<p>When Dr. Howe reached his own door, Helen was waiting for him.</p> + +<p>She had been sitting on the porch alone for more than an hour. She had +been very quiet; there was none of that restlessness which excitement +produced in her uncle or cousin; but when she saw Dr. Howe, she rose, and +stood trembling at the head of the steps. The rector flung himself out of +the carriage almost before it stopped.</p> + +<p>"I want to see you, Helen," he said. "I have something to say to you. +Come into the library."</p> + +<p>She followed him silently, and when he had closed the door he turned and +looked at her. "Now, my child," he began, "you must listen to what I have +to say."</p> + +<p>He stood with one hand on his hip, and lifted the forefinger of the other +as he spoke. "I have seen that man. I have been insulted by him. He is as +firm as the devil can make him that you shall not return to him. Now, I +have no right to interfere between husband and wife; you are entirely +free at any moment to follow any course you may wish. At the same time, +I must tell you that I shall respect you more if you do not return to +him. And I want to add one other thing: from this time, his name is +not to be spoken in my presence."</p> + +<p>Helen's face had grown slowly whiter. "Oh, you will not understand!" she +said hoarsely; but he interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for you, my darling. Oh, what a blow this would have been for +your mother! Poor Mary felt any family trouble so deeply. But you must be +a woman, you must bear it bravely. Yes, your marriage with this fanatic +was a terrible mistake, but we must bear it."</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head; she could not speak. She had not known that she had +hoped anything from her uncle's visit, but this final despair almost +over-powered her.</p> + +<p>"He thinks you are going to change your mind in a week or two," he went +on. "I'd say he was insane if he were not so cruel! There is too much +method in his madness. There! I cannot speak of it; let us drop the +subject. Your place in my heart is secure; I trust you will never leave +me; but on this one topic we cannot meet." Then with a sudden tenderness, +"Oh, Helen, how hard this is for you! You must try to forgive him,—I +cannot."</p> + +<p>"Forgive him?" she said, almost in a whisper, her beautiful eyes dilating +and her lips white. "Oh, John, how I have wronged you, if they think I +have anything to forgive!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Howe looked at her, and seemed to swallow a sob; then he opened his +arms, and, drawing her head down on his shoulder, "Poor child," he said, +"poor child!"</p> + +<p>But this softening on his part met no response from Helen. "You do not +understand John," she said, "and so—so please do not think about me."</p> + +<p>The rebuff sent the rector back to his own resentment. "Remember, I do +not wish to speak of him again, Helen. I have nothing more to say."</p> + +<p>Nor would he say more to Lois and Mrs. Dale than that John Ward was +inflexible, and he wished no further discussion upon the subject; he also +forbade any urging that Helen should return to her husband.</p> + +<p>"Well, but, brother, what explanation shall we give of her being here?" +asked Mrs. Dale anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," he answered impatiently; "anything but the +truth."</p> + +<p>"Why, Archibald!" his sister cried, in a shocked tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you know what I mean," he said; "make some sort of an excuse. +Of course, don't say anything which is untrue, but don't tell people our +private affairs."</p> + +<p>"Do you think she'll ever go back to him?" Mrs. Dale inquired, looking at +him meditatively over her glasses.</p> + +<p>"I hope not!" he said savagely. "Now stop, Adele, stop! I will not +discuss that man!"</p> + +<p>"Where did she get her obstinacy?" Mrs. Dale sighed. "I suppose it was +from her father's side. And the whole affair is so ill-bred; one would +know Helen was not all a Howe. I always felt there was something lacking +in Charles Jeffrey, though poor dear Mary was so infatuated. Yes, I +remember, when that sister of his came here to visit us, I did not feel +sure, not at all sure, that the Jeffreys were really well-born people. +She used to sit up straight and uncomfortable in a carriage. I never saw +her lean back, and I always said that that girl's grandmother wasn't used +to riding in carriages! So you see, that's where Helen gets her—her bad +taste."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't talk about it," said Dr. Howe, walking restlessly back and +forth.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale took off her glasses, and rubbed them on the corner of her +black silk apron. "It would never have happened," she said positively, +"if they had had children. I declare, I"—and she stopped, as though +about to suggest that Helen should adopt a child at once. Mrs. Dale +usually blamed John and Helen with equal impartiality, but to-day the +fault seemed to belong entirely to her niece. She was very much puzzled +to know how she was to "make excuses" without telling an untruth. "I'll +just speak to Giff about it," she thought; "it all depends on the way +Deborah Woodhouse hears it, and Giff is really quite sensible, and can +advise me what to tell her."</p> + +<p>She saw him that afternoon, but, as she said afterwards in reluctant +confidence to her husband, "Giff hasn't much sense, after all. He thought +it was best to just tell the truth about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" responded Mr. Dale. "Well, I have often noticed, I am only apt to +admire the good sense of people who agree with me. Gifford doubtless has +not the advantage of feeling sure that his wishes constitute the +standards of right and wrong."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Mrs. Dale; "I am sure I don't know what you are talking +about."</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you going to do?" asked her husband.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Mrs. Dale answered, "Gifford will tell Deborah Woodhouse the +truth (Helen wants him to), but he will do it as carefully and as mildly +as possible. And he will make her promise to keep it to herself. But +you know Deborah Woodhouse; she trickles—there is no other word for +it—everything. She couldn't keep a secret to save her life. But Helen +will have it so. Oh, dear, dear, dear! Heaven save us from willful +women!"</p> + +<p>Gifford broke the news to his aunts as wisely as he knew how, but he +did not hide the truth. It was not until the day before he went back +to Lockhaven that he told them; he had put it off as long as he could, +hoping, as Dr. Howe had done, that John Ward would see how useless it was +to carry out his plan. Gifford had found the sisters together. Miss Ruth +was at work in her studio, while Miss Deborah sat in the doorway, in the +shadow of the grape-vines, topping and tailing gooseberries into a big +blue bowl. She had a handful of crushed thyme in her lap, and some +pennyroyal.</p> + +<p>"It isn't roses," Miss Deborah remarked, "but it is better than Ruth's +turpentine. And so long as I have got to sit here (for I will sit here +while she's copying the miniature; it is a sacred charge), the pennyroyal +is stronger than the paint."</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth, her hands neatly gloved, was mixing her colors a little +wearily; somehow, on her canvas, the face of the little sister lost what +beauty it had ever known.</p> + +<p>"I can't get the eyes," Miss Ruth sighed. "I have a great mind to help +you with your preserving, sister."</p> + +<p>"My dear Ruth," said Miss Deborah, with much dignity, "do I try to do +your work?"</p> + +<p>"But you know you couldn't paint, dear Deborah," said the younger sister +eagerly. The round china-blue eyes of the little sister stared at her +maliciously.</p> + +<p>"Well," returned Miss Deborah, running her small hand through the +gooseberries in the bowl, "neither could you make gooseberry jelly, or +even a tart." Then seeing her nephew lounging down the flagged path to +the door of the studio, his straw hat pushed back and his hands in his +pockets, she was suddenly reminded of his packing. "I hope, Giff, dear," +she cried, "you left plenty of room in your trunk? I have a number of +articles I want you to take."</p> + +<p>"There's lots of room, aunt Deborah," he answered. "You know I had to put +in a bag of straw to fill up, when I came on,—I couldn't have things +rattle around."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah laughed. "You need your aunt to look after you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Or a wife," said Miss Ruth, looking up at him over her gleaming +spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," replied her sister vigorously; "don't put such ideas into his +head, if you please. I must say such jokes are not in good taste, dear +Ruth."</p> + +<p>But Miss Ruth was more anxious about her light than Gifford's marriage. +"You are really so big, Giff," she complained mildly, "you darken the +whole studio, standing there in the doorway. Do pray sit down."</p> + +<p>Gifford obediently took his seat upon the step, and this brought his face +on a level with Miss Ruth's.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is nice," the little lady said, with gentle enthusiasm. "I +shall have your eyes to look at. I have not been able to get the little +sister's eyes just to suit me."</p> + +<p>It made no difference to Miss Ruth that Gifford's eyes were gray and full +of trouble. "Aunt Deborah," he said abruptly, "Helen Ward is not going +back to Lockhaven for the present. Indeed, I do not know when she will +go."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah forgot her gooseberries, in her surprise. "Not going back!" +she cried, while her sister said, "Is Mr. Ward coming here?"</p> + +<p>Then Gifford told them the story as briefly as he could, interrupted by +small cries of amazement and dismay. "Well," exclaimed Miss Deborah, her +delicate hands uplifted, "well! I never heard of such a thing! How +shocking, how ill-bred! And she is going to be at the rectory? Ruth, my +dear, you must never go there without me, do you hear? It is not proper. +A wife separated from her husband! Dear me, dear me!"</p> + +<p>"How can she leave him?" gasped Miss Ruth. "Married people ought to love +each other so that they could not be parted."</p> + +<p>"You have never been in a position to judge how they ought to love each +other," said Miss Deborah sharply. "But this is what comes of youthful +marriages, Gifford. A person should have reached years of maturity before +thinking of marriage. Such things do not happen when people are +reasonably old"—</p> + +<p>"But not too old, sister," Miss Ruth interrupted, a little color creeping +into her faded cheek.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah did not notice the amendment; she was anxious to hear the +practical side of the matter, and had questions to ask about Helen's +money, and whether Gifford supposed that that man would do anything for +her; but except their grave disapproval that Helen should differ from her +husband, nothing was said of theology. As they talked, the sisters grew +full of sympathy, which waxed and waned as they thought of Helen's +sorrow, or the impropriety of her action.</p> + +<p>"I shall make her some jelly directly," said Miss Deborah, "and put in +plenty of Madeira; the poor thing needs strength."</p> + +<p>"This must be the reason," Miss Ruth said,—she had put her brushes down +some time ago,—"that she was in such distress that day at her mother's +grave. Oh, how trying this is for her! Indeed, I am sure death is easier +to bear, when one—loves—than a parting like this."</p> + +<p>"Really, dear Ruth," returned her sister, holding her head very straight, +"you would not say that if you knew what it was to lose a—friend, by +death. At least Mr. Ward is alive, even if Helen cannot see him. Ah, dear +me! Well, I wonder how Adele Dale feels now? I should be miserable if we +had such a thing happen in our family. A husband and wife quarrel, and +separate! Shocking!"</p> + +<p>"But there is no quarrel, you know," Gifford protested slowly, and for +the third or fourth time.</p> + +<p>But Miss Deborah brushed this aside. "They are separated; it is the same +thing. In our family, an unhappy marriage was never known. Even when your +grandfather's sister married a Bellingham,—and of course everybody knows +the Bellingham temper,—and they quarreled, just three weeks to a day +after the wedding, she never thought of such a disgraceful thing as +leaving him. I have heard dear mamma say she never spoke to him again, +except when she had to ask for money; that almost killed her, she was so +proud. But she never would have lowered herself by leaving him. Yes, this +is really most improper in poor dear Helen."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah's feelings vibrated, even while she was making the jelly, +and though it was finally sent, she balanced her kindness by saying to +Mrs. Dale that it did not seem just right for a young thing like Lois to +know of such a painful affair. It gave Miss Deborah so much pleasure to +say this to her old enemy that she made excuses for Helen for a whole day +afterwards.</p> + +<p>Late that afternoon Gifford went to say good-by at the rectory. It was +a still, hazy August day, with a hint of autumn in the air; sometimes a +yellowing leaf floated slowly down, or one would notice that the square +tower of St. Michael's could be seen, and that the ivy which covered its +south side was beginning to redden.</p> + +<p>Miss Helen was not at home, Jean said. She thought she'd gone up to the +graveyard,—she most always went there.</p> + +<p>So Gifford started in search of her. "She ought not to be alone so much," +he thought, and he wondered, with a man's dullness in such matters, why, +if she and Lois had made up after that one quarrel, they were not the +same tender friends. He met Lois at the rectory gate. She was coming from +the village, and there was a look in her face which gave him a sudden +jealous pain. She held a letter in her hand, and her eyes were running +over with happiness; her lips smiled so that they almost broke into +laughter as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Something seems to make you very happy, Lois?" he said.</p> + +<p>"It does," she cried,—"very, very!"</p> + +<p>"I am glad," he said, wishing she could find it in her heart to tell him +of her joy.</p> + +<p>"Forsythe has come to his senses," he thought. "I suppose he has been +unusually loving, confound him!"</p> + +<p>The two young people parted, each a little graver than when they met. +"How he does like to be with Helen!" Lois thought, as she went on, and +Gifford sighed impatiently as he wished Forsythe were more worthy of her.</p> + +<p>He found Helen walking wearily home alone. "I wanted to say good-by," he +said, taking her hand in his big warm grasp, "and just tell you that I'll +look after him, you know, in any way I can. I'll see him every day, +Helen." She looked at him gratefully, but did not speak. "I wish," +Gifford continued, hesitating, "you would not take such long walks by +yourself. Why don't you let Lois come with you?"</p> + +<p>"She would not care to," she answered briefly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think you are wrong there," he remonstrated. "She is lonely, too." +Helen seemed to consider. "You know it has been an unhappy summer for +Lois, and if you shut her out of your sorrow"—</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to be selfish," she replied, not seeing how much Gifford +spoke for her own sake, "and I do not shut her out; but so long as she +only sympathizes with me, and not with John too, I cannot let her talk to +me about it."</p> + +<p>"That is not quite just, Helen," he said; and afterward, Helen +acknowledged this.</p> + +<p>She put her hands into his, when he turned to go home, and searched his +face with sad, eager eyes. "You are going to see him,—oh, Giff, you'll +see John!" she said.</p> + +<p>Lois saw them talking, as they came to the rectory door, with a dull +feeling of envy. Gifford never seemed to care to talk much to her. What +was that Miss Deborah had said of his once caring for Helen? She had the +good sense to be ashamed of herself for remembering it, but a thought +which comes even into an unwilling mind cannot be driven away without +leaving its impress; the point of view is subtilely and unconsciously +changed. She was not altogether cordial to Gifford, when he said good-by +to her, which he was quick to feel. "He thinks only of Helen," she said +to herself. "I suppose he has forgotten anything he ever said to me, and +my promise, too. I'm ready enough with promises," she thought, with a +bitter little smile. But even this memory could not keep that happiness +which Gifford had seen from shining in her eyes; and when she went +up-stairs, Helen noticed it.</p> + +<p>Perhaps because of Gifford's gentle reproof, she roused herself to say, +as he had done, "You are very happy, Lois?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am, I am!" she cried impulsively, "Oh, Helen, I have something to +tell you." A very little sympathy in her cousin's voice brought her eager +confidence to her lips. "Oh, Helen, a letter has come!"</p> + +<p>"John?" she hardly breathed. For one exquisite moment, which had yet its +background that he had not been strong, Helen misunderstood her.</p> + +<p>"No, it's only something about me," Lois answered humbly.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," Helen said gently. "If anything makes you happy, you know I'll +be glad."</p> + +<p>Lois twisted her fingers together, with a nervous sort of joy. "I've just +heard," she said; "Mrs. Forsythe has just written to me."</p> + +<p>"And she is very well?" Helen asked. She had almost forgotten her +cousin's grief and anxiety about Mrs. Forsythe. It all seemed so long ago +and so unimportant.</p> + +<p>"No, no," Lois said, "she says she's very sick; but oh, Helen, Dick +Forsythe is engaged to be married!"</p> + +<p>Helen looked puzzled. "I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," Lois cried joyously, "he is, and I am so happy!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + + +<p>When the summer had faded into autumn, Ashurst had not yet recovered from +the social earthquake of discovering that it had the scandal of an +unhappy marriage within its decorous borders. There had been nothing +which had so shaken the foundation of things since Gertrude Drayton had +run away with her dancing-master, who, it was more than suspected, had +left a wife in France. That sensation lasted a long time, for William +Denner's face was a constant reminder of his grief; but by and by it +faded, and, as Gertrude never came back to Ashurst, people even said very +kindly things about her.</p> + +<p>But Helen Ward continued to live among them.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the excitement was so great at first that Miss Deborah did not +remember for some time to write to Gifford that Dick Forsythe was engaged +to a New York girl. "She really could scarcely blame him," she had added, +"for he could hardly be expected to keep his engagement with Lois after +this disgraceful affair in her family."</p> + +<p>Gifford read that part of the letter again, dizzy with happiness and +pain. "How she must suffer!" he said to himself. "The cur! Ah, she never +could have married him; she must have discovered his contemptible +nature."</p> + +<p>His first impulse was to hurry to Ashurst. "Not for my own sake," he +reasoned, "but just to be there. I would never show that I knew how he +had treated her. She should not have an instant's mortification in my +presence. But she might just see, without being told, that I loved her +through it all."</p> + +<p>He even rose, and began to study a time-table; but he frowned a little +and put it down, and went and looked out of the window a while. "Helen +would be more unhappy if she thought I were not here to look after Ward. +Yes, I must wait till he gets stronger. Perhaps next month"—</p> + +<p>Then, shaking himself together, with a revulsion of common sense, "As she +is unhappy, she won't care whether I'm there or not, or may be she'd +rather I wasn't!"</p> + +<p>Yet, though he could not easily subdue the desire to rush to Ashurst, the +thought that Helen's sorrow would be a little greater if she could not +think of him as near her husband, helped to keep him at his post.</p> + +<p>But it might have been good for Helen to have had the young man's frank +and healthy understanding of her position. She was growing every day more +lonely and self-absorbed; she was losing her clear perceptions of the +values of life; she became warped, and prejudiced, and very silent. She +even fancied, with a morbid self-consciousness which would have been +impossible before, that she had never possessed the love of her uncle and +cousin, and had always been an alien. This subtile danger to her generous +nature was checked in an unexpected way.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, late in September, she went as usual, alone, to the +graveyard on East Hill. The blue haze lay like a ribbon through the +valley and across the hills; the air was still, and full of the pungent +fragrance of burning brush, and yellow leaves rustled about her feet. The +faded grass had been beaten down by the rain, and was matted above the +graves; here and there a frosted weed stood straight and thin against the +low soft sky; some late golden-rod blazed along the edge of the meadow +among the purple asters, and a single stalk of cardinal flowers flashed +out beside the lichen-covered wall; but all the rest of the world was a +blur of yellow and gray. Helen sat down on a stone, and listened to the +small wood sounds around her. A beech leaf, twisted like the keel of a +fantastic boat, came pattering down on the dead leaves; a bird stirred in +the pine behind her, and now and then a cricket gave a muffled chirp.</p> + +<p>It was here Mr. Dale found her, her head resting forlornly on her hands; +she was absently watching a gray squirrel who had ventured from his cover +in the wall, and was looking at her with curious twinkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mr. Dale gently, "they told me at the rectory they +thought you were up here, so I came to see if you would let me walk home +with you."</p> + +<p>Helen started as he spoke, and the squirrel scampered away. "Did you come +for that?" she said, touched in spite of her bitter thoughts.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale pushed his broad-brimmed hat back on his head, so that his face +seemed to have a black aureola around it. "Yes," he replied, regarding +her with anxious blue eyes,—"yes. I am grieved to have you so much +alone; yet I know how natural it is to desire to be alone."</p> + +<p>Helen did not answer.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he went on, hesitating, "you will not think I intrude if I +say—I came because I wanted to say that I have a great respect for your +husband, Helen."</p> + +<p>Helen turned sharply, as though she would have clasped his hands, and +then put her own over her face, which was quivering with sudden tears.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale touched her shoulder gently. "Yes, a great respect. Love like +his inspires reverence. It is almost divine."</p> + +<p>Helen's assent was inaudible.</p> + +<p>"Not, my dear," the old man continued, "that I do not regret—yes, with +all my heart I deplore—the suffering for you both, by which his love is +proved. Yet I recognize with awe that it is love. And when one has come +so near the end of life as I have, it is much to have once seen love. We +look into the mysteries of God when we see how divine a human soul can +be. Perhaps I have no right to speak of what is so sacredly yours, yet it +is proper that you should know that the full meaning of this calamity can +be understood. It is not all grief, Helen, to be loved as you are."</p> + +<p>She could not speak; she clung to him in a passion of tears, and the love +and warmth she had thought she should never feel again began to stir +about her heart.</p> + +<p>"So you will be strong for him," Mr. Dale said gently, his wrinkled hand +stroking her soft hair. "Be patient, because we have perhaps loved you +too much to be just to him; yet your peace would teach us justice. Be +happier, my dear, that we may understand him. You see what I mean?"</p> + +<p>Helen did see; courage began to creep back, and her reserve melted and +broke down with a storm of tears, too long unshed. "I will try," she said +brokenly,—"oh, I will try!" She did not say what she would try to do, +but to struggle for John's sake gave her strength and purpose for all of +life. She would so live that no one could misunderstand him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale walked home with her, but he did not speak to her again of her +sorrow. The impulse had been given, and her conscience aroused; the +harder struggle of coming back to the daily life of others she must meet +alone. And she met it bravely. Little by little she tried to see the +interests and small concerns of people about her, and very gradually the +heavy atmosphere of the rectory began to lighten. Dr. Howe scarcely knew +how it was that there was a whist party in his library one Friday +evening; rather a silent one, with a few sighs from the Misses Woodhouse +and a suspicious dimness in Mr. Dale's eyes. The rector somehow slipped +into the vacant chair; he said he thought he was so old whist would not +hurt him, if they were willing to teach him. But as he swept the board +at the first deal, and criticised his partner's lead at the second, +instruction was deemed superfluous.</p> + +<p>By degrees, Lois and Helen came nearer together. There was no +explanation: the differences had been too subtile for words, at least on +Lois's side, and to have attempted it would have made a vague impression +harden into permanence.</p> + +<p>No one recognized an effort on Helen's part, and she only knew it +herself when she realized that it was a relief to be with Mr. Dale. He +understood; she could be silent with him. So she came very often to his +little basement office, and spent long mornings with him, helping him +label some books, or copying notes which he had intended "getting +into shape" these twenty years. She liked the stillness and dimness of +the small room, with its smell of leather-covered volumes, or whiff of +wood smoke from the fireplace.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dale rarely disturbed them. "If Helen finds any pleasure in that +musty old room," she said, one cold January morning, "I'm sure I'm glad. +But she would be a great deal more sensible and cheerful if she'd sit up +in the parlor with me, if she didn't do anything more than play patience. +But then, Helen never was like other people."</p> + +<p>And so she left her niece and her husband, with a little good-natured +contempt in her eyes, and went up to her own domains. Mr. Dale was +arranging some plants on a shelf across one of the windows, and Helen was +watching him. "They generally die before the winter is out," he said, +"but perhaps with you to look after them they'll pull through."</p> + +<p>He was in his flowered dressing-gown, and was standing on tiptoe, +reaching up for one of the mildewed flower-pots. "These are orange +plants," he explained proudly. "I planted the seeds a month ago, and see +how they've grown." He put his glasses on and bent down to examine them, +with an absorbed look. The pot that held the six spindling shoots had +streaks of white mould down its sides, and the earth was black and hard +with the deluge of water with which Mr. Dale's anxious care usually began +the season. He began now to loosen it gently with his penknife, saying, +"I'm sure they'll flourish if you look after them."</p> + +<p>"I will if I'm here, uncle Henry," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear," he said, looking at her sharply, "you are not thinking of +that hospital plan again?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, "I cannot help it. I feel as though I must be of +some use in the world." She was standing in the stream of wintry sunshine +which flooded the narrow window, and Mr. Dale saw that some white threads +had begun to show in the bronze-brown waves of her hair. "Yes," she +continued, "it is so hard to keep still. I must do something, and be +something."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale stopped digging in his flower-pots, and looked at her without +speaking for a moment; then he said, "I wonder if you will not be +something nobler by the discipline of this quiet life, Helen? And are you +not really doing something if you rouse us out of our sleepy satisfaction +with our own lives, and make us more earnest? I know that cannot be your +object, as it would defeat itself by self-consciousness, but it is true, +my dear."</p> + +<p>She did not speak.</p> + +<p>"You see," he went on, in his gentle voice, "your life cannot be negative +anywhere. You have taken a stand for a vital principle, and it must make +us better. Truth is like heat or light; its vibrations are endless, and +are endlessly felt. There is something very beautiful to me, Helen, +speaking of truth, that you and your husband, from absolutely opposite +and extreme points, have yet this force of truth in your souls. You have +both touched the principle of life,—he from one side, you from the +other. But you both feel the pulse of God in it!"</p> + +<p>"You know," she said gratefully, "you understand"—She stopped abruptly, +for she saw Lois coming hurriedly along the road, and when she opened the +gate she ran across the snowy lawn to Mr. Dale's office, instead of +following the path. There was something in her face which made Helen's +heart stand still.</p> + +<p>She could not wait for her to reach the door, but went out bareheaded to +meet her.</p> + +<p>Lois took her hands between her own, which were trembling. "Gifford has +sent a dispatch. I—I came to bring it to you, Helen."</p> + +<p>Her cousin put out her hand for the telegram.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid John is ill," Lois said, the quick tears springing to her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Give it to me," said Helen.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly Lois gave her the dispatch, but she scarcely looked at it. +"Uncle Henry," she said, for Mr. Dale had followed her, and stood in +speechless sympathy, his white hair blowing about in the keen wind, "I +will go to Mercer now. I can make the train. Will you let me have your +carriage?"</p> + +<p>Her voice was so firm and her manner so calm Lois was deceived. "She does +not understand how ill John is," she thought.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Dale knew better. "How love's horror of death sweeps away all +small things," he said, as he sat alone in his study that night,—"time, +hope, fear, even grief itself!"</p> + +<p>His wife did not enter into such analysis; she had been summoned, and had +seen to wraps and money and practical things, and then had gone crying +up-stairs. "Poor child," she said, "poor child! She doesn't feel it yet."</p> + +<p>A calamity like this Mrs. Dale could understand; she had known the sorrow +of death, and all the impatience which had stood between Helen and +herself was swept away in her pitying sympathy.</p> + +<p>As for Lois, Helen had not forbidden her, and she too had gone to Mercer. +Helen had not seemed even to notice her presence in the carriage, and she +dared not speak. She thought, in a vague way, that she had never known +her cousin before. Helen, with white, immovable face, sat leaning +forward, her hand on the door, her tearless eyes straining into the +distance, and a tense, breathless air of waiting about her.</p> + +<p>"May I go to Lockhaven with you?" Lois asked softly; but Helen did not +answer until she had repeated the question, and then she turned with the +start of one suddenly wakened, and looked at her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are here?" she said. "You were good to come, but you must not go +further than Mercer." Then she noticed that the window beside Lois was +open, and leaned forward to close it. After that, she lapsed again into +her stony silence.</p> + +<p>When they reached the station, it was she who bought the ticket, and then +again seemed startled to find the girl by her side. "Good-by," she said, +as Lois kissed her, but there was no change in her face, either of relief +or regret, when her cousin left her.</p> + +<p>How that long slow journey passed Helen never knew. She was not even +conscious of its length. When Gifford met her, she gave him one +questioning look.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said tenderly, "you are in time. He would not let me send +before, Helen; and I knew you would not come unless I said, 'John sends +for you.'"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered. He told her, in their quick ride to the parsonage, +that this had been the third hemorrhage, and John had not rallied; but it +was not until the night before that he had known the end was inevitable +and near, and had sent for his wife.</p> + +<p>Oh, the strangeness of those village streets! Had she ever been away? +These months in Ashurst were a dream; here only was reality and death.</p> + +<p>Alfaretta could not speak as she met them at the gate, but ran by Helen's +side, and furtively kissed her hand. There was a light burning in the +study, but Helen stood at the table in the hall and took off her bonnet +and cloak.</p> + +<p>"I will go and tell him you are here," Gifford said, trying to detain her +as she turned to go up-stairs.</p> + +<p>"He knows," she said calmly, and left Gifford and the servant standing in +the entry.</p> + +<p>She did not even pause at the door; there seemed no need to gather +strength for the shock of that meeting; she was all strength and love.</p> + +<p>The room was lighted only by the fire, and the bed was in shadow.</p> + +<p>There were no words; those empty, dying arms were stretched out to her, +and she gathered him close to her heart.</p> + +<p>The house was strangely silent. Again and again Gifford crept up to the +door, but all was quite still; once he heard that soft sound which a +mother makes when she soothes her baby on her breast, and again a low +murmur, which died away as though even words were an intrusion.</p> + +<p>All that long winter day, Gifford, in his intense anxiety lest Helen +should not come in time, and his distress for the sorrow of this little +household, had been calmed and comforted by John's serene courage. He +knew that death was near, but there was an exultant look in his fading +eyes, and sometimes his lips moved in grateful prayer. Perhaps his +physical extremity had dulled his fears for his wife's salvation into a +conviction that his death was to be the climax of God's plans for her. He +was bewildered at the temptation of greater joy at the prospect of her +presence than gratitude that God should save her soul alive. But he never +for one moment doubted she would come to tell him she had found the +light.</p> + +<p>The night wore heavily on. Gifford stationed himself upon the stairs, +outside the door; the doctor came, and then went quietly down to John's +study, and found a book to while away the time. And then they waited.</p> + +<p>When the first faint lightening of the sky came and the chill of dawn +began to creep through the silent house, Helen came out of the closed +room. She put her hand upon Gifford's shoulder. "Go and rest," she said; +"there is no need to sit here any longer. John is dead."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + + +<p>After it was all over, they begged her to go back to Ashurst.</p> + +<p>"You can't stay here," Lois entreated—she had come with Mr. Dale as soon +as the news of John Ward's death reached Ashurst—"you can't live among +these people, Helen."</p> + +<p>But Helen shook her head. "They are John's people. I cannot go yet."</p> + +<p>Lois thought with a shiver of the exhortations of the clergymen who had +come to the funeral to officiate. She wondered how Helen could stay where +every one had heard her sin of unbelief publicly prayed for; yet, with +her cousin's brave sad eyes upon her, she dared not give this as a reason +why Helen should leave Lockhaven.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dale did not urge her to return; he knew her too well. He only said +when he went away, holding her hands in his and looking at her, his +gentle old face quivering with tears, "He is all yours now, my dear; +death has given you what life could not. No matter where you are, nothing +can change the perfect possession."</p> + +<p>There was a swift, glad light in the eyes she lifted to his for a moment, +but she did not answer.</p> + +<p>At first she had been stunned and dazed; she had not realized what her +sorrow was; an artificial courage came to her in the thought that John +was free, and the terrible and merciful commonplace of packing and +putting in order, hid her from herself.</p> + +<p>She had stayed behind in the small brown parsonage, with only Alfaretta +for a companion, and Gifford's unspoken sympathy when he came every day +to see her. Once she answered it.</p> + +<p>"I am glad it is John instead of me," she said, with an uplifted look; +"the pain is not his."</p> + +<p>"And it is so much happier for him now," Gifford ventured to say,—"he +must see so clearly; and the old grief is lost in joy."</p> + +<p>"No," Helen answered wearily; "you must not say those things to me. I +cannot feel them. I am glad he has no pain,—in an eternal sleep there is +at least no pain. But I must just wait my life out, Gifford. I cannot +hope; I dare not. I could not go on living if I thought he were living +somewhere, and needing me. No, it is ended. I have had my life."</p> + +<p>She listened in eager and pathetic silence to every detail of John's life +since she had left him which Alfaretta or Gifford could give her. A +little later, she asked them both to write out all that they remembered +of those last days. She dared not trust the sacred memory only to her +heart, lest the obliterating years should steal it from her. And then, by +and by, she gathered up all her power of endurance, and quietly went back +to Ashurst. That last night in the little low-browed parsonage not even +Alfaretta was with her. Gifford left her on the threshold with a terrible +fear in his heart, and he came to the door again very early in the +morning; but she met him calmly, with perfect comprehension of the +anxiety in his face.</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid for me," she said. "I do not dare to be a +coward."</p> + +<p>And then she walked to the station, without one look back at the house +where she had known her greatest joy and greatest grief.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The summer had left spring far behind, when Gifford Woodhouse came to +Ashurst.</p> + +<p>He could not stay in Lockhaven; the tragedy of John Ward had thrown +a shadow upon him. The people did not forget that he was Mrs. Ward's +friend, and they made no doubt, the bolder ones said, that Lawyer +Woodhouse was an infidel, too. So he decided to take an office in Mercer. +This would make it possible for him to come back to Ashurst every +Saturday, and be with his aunts until Monday.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he did not know it, but Lockhaven shadows seemed deeper than +they really were because Mercer was only twelve miles from Lois Howe. +Not that that could mean anything more than just the pleasure of seeing +her sometimes. Gifford told himself he had no hope. He searched her +occasional letters in vain for the faintest hint that she would be glad +to see him. "If there were the slightest chance of it," he said, with a +sigh, "of course I'd know it. She promised. I suppose she was awfully +attached to that puppy."</p> + +<p>However, in spite of hopelessness, he went to Mercer, and soon it became +a matter of course that he should drop in at the rectory every Sunday, +spending the evening with Helen after Dr. Howe and Lois had gone to +church.</p> + +<p>Helen never went. "I cannot," she said to Gifford once; "the service is +beautiful and stately, and full of pleasant associations, but it is +outside of my life. If I had ever been intensely religious, it would be +different, I suppose,—I should care for it as a sacred past; but it was +never more than pleasant. What I called my spiritual life had no reality +to me. And now, surely, I cannot go, when I have no faith at all."</p> + +<p>"I think you will go, some day, Helen," Gifford said thoughtfully; "the +pendulum has to swing very far away from the extreme which you have seen +before the perfect balance comes. And I think you make a mistake when you +say you have no faith. Perhaps you have no creed, but faith, it seems to +me, is not the holding of certain dogmas; it is simply openness and +readiness of heart to believe any truth which God may show."</p> + +<p>They were sitting on the porch at the rectory; the fragrant dusk of the +garden was beginning to melt into trembling light as the moon rose, and +the last flush of sunset faded behind the hills. Helen had a soft white +wrap over her black dress, but Gifford had thought it was cool enough to +throw a gray shawl across her feet; he himself was bareheaded, and sat on +the steps, clasping his knees with his hands.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," Helen said, "but I think I am like a person who walks along +in the dark, yet looks toward the east. I will not comfort myself with +little candles of memory or desire, and say, 'This is light!' Perhaps +light will never come to my eyes, but I will wait, for I believe there is +light somewhere."</p> + +<p>It was much for Helen to say this. No one had guessed what was behind her +reserve on such subjects; perhaps no one had very greatly cared.</p> + +<p>"Gifford!" she said suddenly. He looked up, surprised at her tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Helen?"</p> + +<p>"I wish," she said, "I wish you were as happy as you deserve to be."</p> + +<p>He knew what she meant, and would not repay her confidence by pretending +not to understand. "Well, I'm not as happy as I desire, perhaps, but no +doubt I'm as happy as I deserve."</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, "you are not. And oh, Gifford, there is so much +sorrow in the world, the only thing which makes life possible is love, +because that is the only thing which does not change."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it can never be for me," he said, after a moment's silence, +"except the joy of giving love."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked gently.</p> + +<p>Gifford did not speak; he rose, and began to pace up and down in front of +the porch, crossing and recrossing the square of light which fell from +the open hall door. "I ought not to talk about it," he said at last. +"I've got it down at the very bottom of my life, a sort of foundation +stone on which to build noble things. Your words make it spring up into +a whole palace of beauty; but it is in the air,—it is in the air! You +know what I mean: it must always be giving with me; she will never care. +She never could, having loved once. And it is curious, Helen, but in a +certain paradoxical way I'm content she shouldn't. She would not be the +woman she is, if she could love twice."</p> + +<p>Helen smiled in the darkness. "Gifford"—she began.</p> + +<p>But he interrupted her, flinging his head back, in impatient despair. +"No, it cannot be, or it would have been, don't you see? Don't encourage +me, Helen; the kindest thing you can do is to kill any hope the instant +it shows its head. There was a time, I was fool enough to think—it was +just after the engagement was broken. But I soon saw from her letters +there was no chance for me."</p> + +<p>"But Gifford,"—Helen almost forgot to protect Lois, in her anxiety to +help him,—"you must not think that. They were never engaged."</p> + +<p>Gifford stood still and looked at her; then he said something in a low +voice, which she could not hear.</p> + +<p>"I must not say another word," she said hurriedly. "I've no right even +to speak as I did. But oh, Gifford, I could not see you lose a chance +of happiness. Life is so short, and there is so much sorrow! I even +selfishly wanted the happiness of your joy, for my own sake."</p> + +<p>Still Gifford did not speak; he turned sharply on his heel, and began his +restless walk. His silence was getting unbearable, when he stopped, and +said gently, "I thank you, Helen. I do not understand it all, but that's +no matter. Only, don't you see, it doesn't make any difference? If she +had been going to care, I should have known it long ago."</p> + +<p>This was very vague to Helen; she wondered if Lois had refused him again. +But Gifford began to talk quietly of his life in Mercer, and she did not +venture to say anything more. "After all, they must work out their own +salvation," she thought. "No one can help them, when they both know the +facts."</p> + +<p>She listened a little absently to Gifford, who was speaking of the lack +of any chance for advancement in Mercer. "But really," he added, "I ought +not to go too far away from my aunts, now; and I believe that the highest +development of character can come from the most commonplace necessities +of life." Helen sighed; she wondered if this commonplace of Ashurst +were her necessity? For again she was searching for her place in the +world,—the place that needed her, and was to give her the happiness of +usefulness; and she had even thought vaguely that she might find some +work in Lockhaven, among John's people, and for them. They both fell into +the silence of their own thoughts, until the rector and his daughter came +back from church, and Gifford went home.</p> + +<p>That next week was a thoughtful one with Gifford Woodhouse; Helen's words +had stirred those buried hopes, and it was hard to settle back into a +life of renunciation. He was strangely absent-minded in his office. One +day Willie Denner, who had come to read law, and was aspiring to be his +clerk, found him staring out of the window, with a new client's papers +lying untouched before him. After all, he thought, would it be wrong, +would it trouble Lois (he had said he should never trouble her), if he +just told her how the thought of her helped him, how she was a continual +inspiration in his life? "If I saw it bothered her, I could stop," he +argued.</p> + +<p>And so, reasoning with himself, he rode over from Mercer late that +Saturday night. The little ladies were, as usual, delighted to see him. +These weekly visits were charming; their nephew could be admired and +fussed over to their hearts' content, but was off again before they had +time to feel their small resources at an end. The next morning he +dutifully went to church with them. Sunday was a proud day for the Misses +Woodhouse; each took an arm of the young man, whose very size made him +imposing, and walked in a stately way to the door of St. Michael's. They +would gladly have been supported by him to their pew, but it would have +been, Miss Deborah said, really flaunting their nephew in the faces of +less fortunate families, for Ashurst could not boast of another young +man.</p> + +<p>Miss Ruth wore her new bonnet that day in honor of his presence. She had +taken it from the bandbox and carefully removed its wrapping of tissue +paper, looking anxiously at the clouds as she smoothed the lavender +strings and pinched the white asters on the side, before she decided that +it was safe to wear it.</p> + +<p>Gifford looked up the rectory lane as they drew near the church, and +Miss Deborah noticed it. "Giff, dear," she asked, "did you observe, last +Sunday, how ill poor little Lois looked?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, somewhat startled.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," said Miss Ruth, nodding her head so that the white asters +trembled, "she has never really gotten over that disappointment about +young Forsythe."</p> + +<p>"But she was not engaged to him," responded Gifford boldly.</p> + +<p>"Not engaged," Miss Deborah admitted, "but she fully expected to be. +He did not treat her honorably; there is no doubt of that. But her +affections were unalterably his."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?" demanded her nephew.</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear child," said Miss Ruth, "there is no doubt of it. Adele +Dale told dear Deborah the whole story. Of course she had it from Lois."</p> + +<p>"Not that it makes the slightest difference in my position," Gifford +thought, as he sat crowding down the pain of it, and looking at Lois, +sitting in the rosy light of the window of the left transept. "I am just +where I was before, and I'll tell her, if it does not seem to bother +her."</p> + +<p>After church, there was the usual subdued gossip about the door, and +while Gifford waited for his aunts, who had something to say to the +rector, he listened to Mrs. Dale, who said in her incisive voice, "Isn't +it too bad Helen isn't here? I should think, whether she wanted to or +not, she'd come for her husband's sake." Even the apology of death had +not made Mrs. Dale pardon John Ward.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Dale mildly interjected,—"She would stay away for his sake, if +she did not really want to come."</p> + +<p>To which Mrs. Dale responded, "Fudge!"</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah also spoke of her absence to Lois. "Sorry dear Helen is not +here, but of course Gifford will see her to-night. He does so enjoy his +evenings with her. Well, they are both young—and I have my thoughts!"</p> + +<p>So, with the utmost innocence, Miss Deborah had planted the seeds of +hopelessness and jealousy in the hearts of both these young people. +Gifford spent the rest of the long, still Sunday wandering restlessly +through the house, and changing his mind about speaking to Lois every few +minutes. Lois was very distant that evening at the rectory, so Gifford +talked mostly to Helen. There was no chance to say what he had intended, +and he made none.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said to himself as he went home, not caring to stay and talk +to Helen when Lois had gone to church,—"well, it is all a muddle. I +don't understand about there being no engagement, but I cannot help +remembering that she cared, though I have no business to. And she cares +yet. Oh, what a confounded idiot I am!"</p> + +<p>He told his aunts he was going to make an early start the next morning. +"I shall be off before you are up. I guess Sarah will give me something +to eat. And, aunt Deborah, I don't know that I can get over next week."</p> + +<p>The little ladies protested, but they were secretly very proud that his +business should occupy him so much.</p> + +<p>There was a silver mist across the hills, when Gifford led his horse out +of the barn the next morning, and the little sharp paving-stones in the +stable-yard, with thin lines of grass between them, were shining with +dew. The morning-glories about the kitchen porch had flung their rosy +horns toward the east, as though to greet the sunrise. Sarah stood under +them, surveying the young man regretfully. "Your aunts won't half like +it, Mr. Gifford," she said, "that you wouldn't eat a proper breakfast."</p> + +<p>But he put his foot in the stirrup, and flung himself into his saddle. He +was too much absorbed in his own concerns to reflect that Miss Deborah +would be distressed if her Scotch collops were slighted, and that was not +like Gifford. However, he was young and a man, so his grief did not +prevent him from lighting a cigarette. The reins fell on the horse's neck +as he climbed East Hill, and Gifford turned, with one hand on the bay's +broad flanks, to look down at Ashurst. The valley was still full of mist, +that flushed and trembled into gold before it disappeared at the touch of +the sun. There was a flutter of birds' wings in the bushes along the +road, and the light wind made the birch leaves flicker and dance; but +there was hardly another sound, for his horse walked deliberately in the +grass beside the road, until suddenly a dog barked. Gifford drew his rein +sharply. "That was Max!" he said, and looked about for him, even rising a +little in his stirrups, "How fond she is of the old fellow!" he thought.</p> + +<p>In another moment the dog ran across the road, his red coat marked with +dew; then the bushes were pushed aside, and his mistress followed him.</p> + +<p>"Why, Gifford!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Why, Lois!" he exclaimed with her, and then they looked at each other.</p> + +<p>The young man threw away his cigarette, and, springing from his horse, +slipped the reins over his arm, and walked beside her.</p> + +<p>"Are you going away?" Lois asked. "But it is so early!"</p> + +<p>She had her little basket in her hand, and she was holding her blue print +gown up over a white petticoat, to keep it from the wet grass. Her broad +hat was on the back of her head, and the wind had blown the curls around +her face into a sunny tangle, and made her cheeks as fresh as a wild +rose.</p> + +<p>"You are the early one, it seems to me," he answered, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I've come to get mushrooms for father," she explained. "It is best to +get them early, while the dew is on them. There are a good many around +that little old ruin further up the road, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," he said. (He felt himself suddenly in a tumult of +uncertainty. "It would be no harm just to say a word," he thought. "Why +shouldn't she know—no matter if she can never care herself—that I care? +It would not trouble her. No, I am a fool to think of it,—I won't.") +"But it is so early for you to be out alone," he said. "Do you take care +of her, Max?"</p> + +<p>"Max is a most constant friend," Lois replied; "he never leaves me." Then +she blushed, lest Gifford should think that she had thought he was not +constant.</p> + +<p>But Gifford's thoughts were never so complicated. With him, it was +either, "She loves me," or, "She does not;" he never tormented himself, +after the fashion of women, by wondering what this look meant, or that +inflection, and fearing that the innermost recesses of his mind might be +guessed from a calm and indifferent face.</p> + +<p>"You see the old chimney?" Lois said, as they drew near the small ruin. +"Some mushrooms grow right in on the hearth."</p> + +<p>It was rather the suggestion of a ruin, for the walls were not standing; +only this stone chimney with the wide, blackened fireplace, and the flat +doorstones before what was once the threshold. Grass and brambles +covered the foundations; lilacs, with spikes of brown dead blossoms, grew +tall and thick around it, and roses, gone back to wild singleness, +blossomed near the steps and along a path, which was only a memory, the +grass had tangled so above it.</p> + +<p>Max kept his nose under Lois's hand, and the horse stumbled once over +a stone that had rolled from the broken foundation and hidden itself +beneath a dock. The mushrooms had opened their little shining brown +umbrellas, as Lois had said, on the very hearth, and she stooped down to +gather them and put them in her basket of sweet grass. From the bushes at +one side came the sudden note of a bob-white; Max pricked his ears.</p> + +<p>"Lois," Gifford said abruptly, still telling himself that he was a +fool,—but then, it was all so commonplace, so free from sentiment, so +public, with Max, and the horse, and the bob-white, it could not trouble +her just to—"Lois, I'd like—I'd like to tell you something, if you +don't mind."</p> + +<p>"What?" she said pleasantly; her basket was full, and they began to walk +back to the road again.</p> + +<p>Gifford stopped to let his horse crop the thick wet grass about a fallen +gate-post. He threw his arm over the bay's neck, and Lois leaned her +elbows on the other post, swinging her basket lightly while she waited +for him to speak. The mist had quite gone by this time, and the sky was a +fresh, clear blue. "Well," he began, suddenly realizing that this was a +great deal harder than he had supposed ("She'll think I'm going to +bother her with a proposal," he thought),—"well, the fact is, Lois, +there's something I want you to know. Perhaps it doesn't really interest +you, in one way; I mean, it is only a—a happiness of my own, and it +won't make any difference in our friendship, but I wanted you to know +it."</p> + +<p>In a moment Miss Deborah's suggestion was a certainty to Lois. She +clasped her hands tight around the handle of her grass basket; Gifford +should not see them tremble. "I'm sure I'll be glad to hear anything that +makes you happy."</p> + +<p>Her voice had a dull sound in her own ears.</p> + +<p>"Helen put it into my head to tell you," Gifford went on nervously. "I +hope you won't feel that I am not keeping my word"—</p> + +<p>She held her white chin a little higher. "I don't know of any 'word,' as +you call it, that there is for you to keep, Gifford."</p> + +<p>"Why, that I would not trouble you, you know, Lois," he faltered. "Have +you forgotten?"</p> + +<p>"What!" Lois exclaimed, with a start, and a thrill in her voice.</p> + +<p>"But I am sure," he said hurriedly, "it won't make you unhappy just to +know that it is still an inspiration in my life, and that it always will +be, and that love, no matter if"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, wait a minute, Giff!" Lois cried, her eyes shining like stars +through sudden tears, and her breath quick. "I—I—why, don't you know, +I was to—don't you remember—my promise?"</p> + +<p>"Lois!" he said, almost in a whisper. He dropped the bay's rein, and came +and took her hand, his own trembling.</p> + +<p>"I know what you were going to say," she began, her face turned away so +that he could only see the blush which had crept up to her temple, "but +I"—He waited, but she did not go on. Then he suddenly took her in his +arms and kissed her without a word; and Max, and the horse, and the +bob-white looked on with no surprise, for after all it was only part of +the morning, and the sunrise, and Nature herself.</p> + +<p>"And to think that it's I!" Lois said a minute afterward.</p> + +<p>"Why, who else could it be?" cried Gifford rapturously.</p> + +<p>But Lois shook her head; even in her joy she was ashamed of herself. "I +won't even remember it," she thought.</p> + +<p>Of course there were many explanations. Each was astonished at the other +for not having understood; but Lois's confession of her promise to Mrs. +Forsythe made all quite clear, though it left a look that was almost +stern behind the joy in Gifford's eyes.</p> + +<p>"You know I couldn't help it, Giff," she ended.</p> + +<p>But he did not speak.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't wrong," she said. "You see how it was,—you don't think it was +wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, Lois," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried; and then, "But you made me!"</p> + +<p>"I?" he exclaimed, bewildered.</p> + +<p>And then she told him how his acknowledgment of her fault drove her into +a desire for atonement. "You know, you think I'm wrong pretty often," +she added shyly; and then they mutually forgave each other.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I did find a good deal of fault," Gifford admitted, humbly, +"but it was always because I loved you."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Lois.</p> + +<p>But there was so much to say they might have talked until noon, except +that, as they had neither of them breakfasted, and happiness and morning +air are the best sort of tonics, they began to think of going to the +rectory. Gifford had quite forgotten the business in Mercer which needed +him so early.</p> + +<p>"Father won't have mushrooms with his steak to-day," Lois commented, +looking ruefully at the little basket, which she still held in her hand.</p> + +<p>They stopped at the roadside, walking hand in hand like two children, and +looked back at the ruin. "It was a home once," Gifford said, "and there +was love there; and so it begins over again for us,—love, and happiness, +and all of life."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Giff," the girl said softly, "I don't deserve"—</p> + +<p>But that, of course, he would not hear. When they came to the rectory +gate,—and never did it take so long to walk from East Hill to the +rectory,—Gifford said, "Now let's go and tell Helen; we've kept her out +of our joy too long." They met her in the cool, dusky hall, and Gifford, +taking her hand, said gently, "Be glad, too, Helen!"</p> + +<p>Lois had put her arms about her cousin, and without further words Helen +knew.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And so Helen Ward's duty came to her, the blessedness and helpfulness of +being needed; when Lois went to her new home, Helen would be necessary +to her uncle, and to be necessary would save her life from hardness. +There need be no thought of occupation now. When Mr. Dale heard the news, +he said his congratulations were not only for Lois and Gifford, but for +Helen, and after that for Ashurst.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A genuine Ashurst engagement was a great thing, and the friends of the +young people received it in their several ways. Dr. Howe was surprised, +but disposed to make the best of it. "This is always the way," he said, +with his big, jolly laugh: "a man brings up his girls, and then, just as +soon as they get old enough to amount to something and be a comfort to +him, some other man comes along and carries them off. What? Mind, now, +Gifford, don't you go further away than Mercer!"</p> + +<p>As for Mrs. Dale, she was delighted. "It is what I have always wanted; it +is the one thing I've tried to bring about; and if Lois will do as I tell +her, and be guided by a wiser head than her own, I have no doubt she will +be very reasonably happy."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't a woman expect to be guided by her husband?" Mr. Dale asked.</p> + +<p>"When he has sense enough," responded his wife significantly.</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were greatly pleased. "Of course they are very +young," said Miss Deborah, "but I'll have an eye to the housekeeping +until Lois gets older. Fortunately, they'll be so far away from dear +Adele, she cannot interfere much. Even with the best intentions in the +world, a girl's relations shouldn't meddle."</p> + +<p>"They seem very much in love, sister," said Miss Ruth thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, dear Ruth," replied her sister, "you are hardly capable of +judging of that; but you happen to be right; they are as much attached +as one can expect young people to be."</p> + +<p>But Miss Ruth, as she stood that night before her cherry-wood +dressing-table, its brass rings glimmering in the candle-light, opened +Mr. Denner's daguerreotype, and, looking wistfully at the youthful face +behind the misty glass, said softly to herself, "Ah, well, it's good to +be young."</p> + +<p>THE END.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Ward, Preacher, by Margaret Deland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN WARD, PREACHER *** + +***** This file should be named 18478-h.htm or 18478-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/7/18478/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Ward, Preacher + +Author: Margaret Deland + +Release Date: May 31, 2006 [EBook #18478] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN WARD, PREACHER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + JOHN WARD, PREACHER + + BY MARGARET DELAND + + AUTHOR OF "THE OLD GARDEN" + + + + + I sent my soul through the invisible, + Some letter of that after-life to spell; + And by and by my soul returned to me, + And answered, "I myself am Heav'n and Hell" + + + Omar Khayyam + + + + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + +Copyright, 1888, +By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. +_All rights reserved._ + + + + +To LORIN DELAND +This Book +ALREADY MORE HIS THAN MINE +IS DEDICATED. + +Boston, _December 25th, 1887_. + + + + +JOHN WARD, PREACHER. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The evening before Helen Jeffrey's wedding day, the whole household at +the rectory came out into the garden. + +"The fact is," said Dr. Howe, smiling good-naturedly at his niece, "the +importance of this occasion has made everybody so full of suppressed +excitement one can't breathe in the house." + +And indeed a wedding in Ashurst had all the charm of novelty. "Why, bless +my soul," said the rector, "let me see: it must be ten--no, twelve years +since Mary Drayton was married, and that was our last wedding. Well, we +couldn't stand such dissipation oftener; it would wake us up." + +But Ashurst rather prided itself upon being half asleep. The rush and +life of newer places had a certain vulgarity; haste was undignified, it +was almost ill bred, and the most striking thing about the village, +resting at the feet of its low green hills, was its atmosphere of leisure +and repose. + +Its grassy road was nearly two miles long, so that Ashurst seemed to +cover a great deal of ground, though there were really very few houses. +A lane, leading to the rectory, curled about the foot of East Hill at one +end of the road, and at the other was the brick-walled garden of the +Misses Woodhouse. + +Between these extremes the village had slowly grown; but its first youth +was so far past, no one quite remembered it, and even the trying stage of +middle age was over, and its days of growth were ended. This was perhaps +because of its distance from the county town, for Mercer was twelve miles +away, and there was no prospect of a railroad to unite them. It had been +talked of once; some of the shopkeepers, as well as Mr. Lash, the +carpenter, advocated it strenuously at Bulcher's grocery store in the +evenings, because, they said, they were at the mercy of Phibbs, the +package man, who brought their wares on his slow, creaking cart over the +dusty turnpike from Mercer. But others, looking into the future, objected +to a convenience which might result in a diminution of what little trade +they had. Among the families, however, who did not have to consider +"trade" there was great unanimity, though the Draytons murmured something +about the increased value of the land; possibly not so much with a view +to the welfare of Ashurst as because their property extended along the +proposed line of the road. + +The rector was very firm in his opinion. "Why," said he, mopping his +forehead with his big silk handkerchief, "what do we want with a +railroad? My grandfather never thought of such a thing, so I think I can +get along without it, and it is a great deal better for the village not +to have it." + +It would have cut off one corner of his barn; and though this could not +have interfered with the material or spiritual welfare of Ashurst, Dr. +Howe's opinion never wavered. And the rector but expressed the feelings +of the other "families," so that all Ashurst was conscious of relief when +the projectors of the railroad went no further than to make a cut at one +end of the Drayton pastures; and that was so long ago that now the earth, +which had shown a ragged yellow wound across the soft greenness of the +meadows, was sown by sweet clover and wild roses, and gave no sign of +ever having been gashed by picks and shovels. + +The Misses Woodhouse's little orchard of gnarled and wrinkled apple-trees +came to the edge of the cut on one side, and then sloped down to the +kitchen garden and back door of their old house, which in front was shut +off from the road by a high brick wall, gray with lichens, and crumbling +in places where the mortar had rotted under the creepers and ivy, which +hung in heavy festoons over the coping. The tall iron gates had not been +closed for years, and, rusting on their hinges, had pressed back against +the inner wall, and were almost hidden by the tangle of vines, that were +woven in and out of the bars, and waved about in the sunshine from their +tops. + +The square garden which the wall inclosed was full of cool, green +darkness; the trees were the growth of three generations, and the +syringas and lilacs were so thick and close they had scarcely light +enough for blossoming. The box borders, which edged the straight prim +walks, had grown, in spite of clippings, to be almost hedges, so that the +paths between them were damp, and the black, hard earth had a film of +moss over it. Old-fashioned flowers grew just where their ancestors had +stood fifty years before. "I could find the bed of white violets with my +eyes shut," said Miss Ruth Woodhouse; and she knew how far the lilies of +the valley spread each spring, and how much it would be necessary to +clip, every other year, the big arbor vitae, so that the sunshine might +fall upon her bunch of sweet-williams. + +Miss Ruth was always very generous with her flowers, but now that there +was to be a wedding at the rectory she meant to strip the garden of every +blossom she could find, and her nephew was to take them to the church the +first thing in the morning. + +Gifford Woodhouse had lately returned from Europe, and his three years' +travel had not prepared his aunts to treat him as anything but the boy he +seemed to them when he left the law school. They still "sent dear Giff" +here, or "brought him" there, and arranged his plans for him, in entire +unconsciousness that he might have a will of his own. Perhaps the big +fellow's silence rather helped the impression, for so long as he did not +remonstrate when they bade him do this or that, it was not of so much +consequence that, in the end, he did exactly as he pleased. This was not +often at variance with the desires of the two sisters, for the wordless +influence of his will so enveloped them that his wishes were apt to be +theirs. But no one could have been more surprised than the little ladies, +had they been told that their nephew's intention of practicing law in the +lumber town of Lockhaven had been his own idea. + +They had cordially agreed with him when he observed that another lawyer +in Ashurst, beside Mr. Denner, would have no other occupation than to +make his own will; and they had nodded approvingly when the young man +added that it would seem scarcely gracious to settle in Mercer while Mr. +Denner still hoped to find clients there, and sat once a week, for an +hour, in a dingy back office waiting for them. True, they never came; but +Gifford had once read law with Mr. Denner, and knew and loved the little +gentleman, so he could not do a thing which might appear discourteous. +And when he further remarked that there seemed to be a good opening in +Lockhaven, which was a growing place, and that it would be very jolly to +have Helen Jeffrey there when she became Mrs. Ward, the two Misses +Woodhouse smiled, and said firmly that they approved of it, and that they +would send him to Lockhaven in the spring, and they were glad they had +thought of it. + +On this June night, they had begged him to take a message to the rectory +about the flowers for the wedding. "He is glad enough to go, poor child," +said Miss Deborah, sighing, when she saw the alacrity with which he +started; "he feels her marriage very much, though he is so young." + +"Are you sure, dear Deborah?" asked Miss Ruth, doubtfully. "I never +really felt quite certain that he was interested in her." + +"Certainly I am," answered Miss Deborah, sharply. "I've always maintained +they were made for each other." + +But Gifford Woodhouse's pleasant gray eyes, under straight brown brows, +showed none of the despair of an unsuccessful lover; on the contrary, he +whistled softly through his blonde moustache, as he came along the +rectory lane, and then walked down the path to join the party in the +garden. + +The four people who had gathered at the foot of the lawn were very +silent; Dr. Howe, whose cigar glowed and faded like a larger firefly than +those which were beginning to spangle the darkness, was the only one +ready to talk. "Well," he said, knocking off his cigar ashes on the arm +of his chair, "everything ready for to-morrow, girls? Trunks packed and +gowns trimmed? We'll have to keep you, Helen, to see that the house is +put in order after all this turmoil; don't you think so, Lois?" + +Here the rector yawned secretly. + +"You needn't worry about _order_, father," Lois said, lifting her head +from her cousin's shoulder, her red lower lip pouting a little, "but I +wish we could keep Helen." + +"Do you hear that, Mr. Ward?" the rector said. "Yes, we're all going to +miss the child very much. Gifford Woodhouse was saying to-day Ashurst +would lose a great deal when she went. There's a compliment for you, +Helen! How that fellow has changed in these three years abroad! He's +quite a man, now. Why, how old is he? It's hard for us elders to realize +that children grow up." + +"Giff is twenty-six," Lois said. + +"Why, to be sure," said Dr. Howe, "so he is! Of course, I might have +known it: he was born the year your brother was, Lois, and he would have +been twenty-six if he'd lived. Nice fellow, Gifford is. I'm sorry he's +not going to practice in Mercer. He has a feeling that it might interfere +with Denner in some way. But dear me, Denner never had a case outside +Ashurst in his life. Still, it shows good feeling in the boy; and I'm +glad he's going to be in Lockhaven. He'll keep an eye on Helen, and let +us know if she behaves with proper dignity. I think you'll like him, Mr. +Ward,--I would say John,--my dear fellow!" + +There was a lack of sympathy on the part of the rector for the man at his +side, which made it difficult for him to drop the formal address, and +think of him as one of the family. "I respect Ward," he said once to his +sister,--"I can't help respecting him; but bless my soul, I wish he was +more like other people!" There was something about the younger man, Dr. +Howe did not know just what, which irritated him. Ward's earnestness was +positively aggressive, he said, and there seemed a sort of undress of the +mind in his entire openness and frankness; his truthfulness, which +ignored the courteous deceits of social life, was a kind of impropriety. + +But John Ward had not noticed either the apology or the omission; no one +answered the rector, so he went on talking, for mere occupation. + +"I always liked Gifford as a boy," he said; "he was such a manly fellow, +and no blatherskite, talking his elders to death. He never had much to +say, and when he did talk it was to the point. I remember once seeing +him--why, let me see, he couldn't have been more than fifteen--breaking a +colt in the west pasture. It was one of Bet's fillies, and as black as a +coal: you remember her, don't you, Lois?--a beauty! I was coming home +from the village early in the morning; somebody was sick,--let me see, +wasn't it old Mrs. Drayton? yes,--and I'd been sent for; it must have +been about six,--and there was Gifford struggling with that young mare in +the west pasture. He had thrown off his coat, and caught her by the mane +and a rope bridle, and he was trying to ride her. That blonde head of his +was right against her neck, and when she reared he clung to her till she +lifted him off his feet. He got the best of her, though, and the first +thing she knew he was on her back. Jove! how she did plunge! but he +mastered her; he sat superbly. I felt Gifford had the making of a man in +him, after that. He inherits his father's pluck. You know Woodhouse made +a record at Lookout Mountain; he was killed the third day." + +"Gifford used to say," said Helen, "that he wished he had been born in +time to go into the army." + +"There's a good deal of fight in the boy," said the rector, chuckling. +"His aunts were always begging him not to get into rows with the village +boys. I even had to caution him myself. 'Never fight, sir,' I'd say; 'but +if you do fight, whip 'em!' Yes, it's a pity he couldn't have been in the +army." + +"Well," said Lois, impatiently, "Giff would have fought, I know, but +he's so contradictory! I've heard him say the Southerners couldn't help +fighting for secession; it was a principle to them, and there was no +moral wrong about it, he said." + +"Oh, nonsense!" cried the rector; "these young men, who haven't borne the +burden and heat of the day, pretend to instruct us, do they? No moral +wrong? I thought Gifford had some sense! They were condemned by God and +man." + +"But, uncle Archie," Helen said, slowly, "if they thought they were +right, you can't say there was a moral wrong?" + +"Oh, come, come," said Dr. Howe, with an indignant splutter, "you don't +understand these things my dear,--you're young yet, Helen. They were +wrong through and through; so don't be absurd." Then turning half +apologetically to John Ward, he added, "You'll have to keep this child's +ideas in order; I'm sure she never heard such sentiments from me. Mr. +Ward will think you haven't been well brought up, Helen. Principle? +Twaddle! their pockets were what they thought of. All this talk of +principle is rubbish." + +The rector's face was flushed, and he brought his fist down with emphasis +upon the arm of his chair. + +"And yet," said John Ward, lifting his thoughtful dark eyes to Dr. Howe's +handsome face, "I have always sympathized with a mistaken idea of duty, +and I am sure that many Southerners felt they were only doing their duty +in fighting for secession and the perpetuation of slavery." + +"I don't agree with you, sir," said Dr. Howe, whose ideas of hospitality +forbade more vigorous speech, but his bushy gray eyebrows were drawn into +a frown. + +"I think you are unfair not to admit that," John continued with gentle +persistence, while the rector looked at him in silent astonishment, and +the two young women smiled at each other in the darkness. ("The idea of +contradicting father!" Lois whispered.) "They felt," he went on, "that +they had found authority for slavery in the Bible, so what else could +they do but insist upon it?" + +"Nonsense," said Dr. Howe, forgetting himself, "the Bible never taught +any such wicked thing. They believed in states rights, and they wanted +slavery." + +"But," John said, "if they did believe the Bible permitted slavery, what +else could they do? Knowing that it is the inspired word of God, and that +every action of life is to be decided by it, they had to fight for an +institution which they believed sacred, even if their own judgment and +inclination did not concede that it was right. If you thought the Bible +taught that slavery was right, what could you do?" + +"I never could think anything so absurd," the rector answered, a shade of +contempt in his good-natured voice. + +"But if you did," John insisted, "even if you were unable to see that it +was right,--if the Bible taught it, inculcated it?" + +Dr. Howe laughed impatiently, and flung the end of his cigar down into +the bushes, where it glowed for a moment like an angry eye. "I--I? Oh, +I'd read some other part of the book," he said. "But I refuse to think +such a crisis possible; you can always find some other meaning in a text, +you know." + +"But, uncle Archie," Helen said, "if one did think the Bible taught +something to which one's conscience or one's reason could not assent, it +seems to me there could be only one thing to do,--give up the Bible!" + +"Oh, no," said Dr. Howe, "don't be so extreme, Helen. There would be many +things to do; leave the consideration of slavery, or whatever the +supposed wrong was, until you'd mastered all the virtues of the Bible: +time enough to think of an alternative then,--eh, Ward? Well, thank +Heaven, the war's over, or we'd have you a rank copperhead. Come! it's +time to go into the house. I don't want any heavy eyes for to-morrow." + +"What a speech for a minister's wife, Helen!" Lois cried, as they rose. +"What _would_ people say if they heard you announce that you 'would give +up the Bible'?" + +"I hope no one will ever hear her say anything so foolish," said Dr. +Howe, but John Ward looked at Lois in honest surprise. + +"Would it make any difference what people said?" he asked. + +"Oh, I wasn't speaking very seriously," Lois answered, laughing, "but +still, one does not like to say anything which is unusual, you know, +about such things. And of course Helen doesn't really mean that she'd +give up the Bible." + +"But I do," Helen interrupted, smiling; and she might have said more, +for she could not see John's troubled look in the darkness, but Gifford +Woodhouse came down the path to meet them and give Miss Ruth's message. + +"Just in time, young man," said the rector, as Gifford silently took some +of John's burden of shawls and cushions, and turned and walked beside +him. "Here's Helen giving Ward an awful idea of her orthodoxy; come and +vouch for the teaching you get at St. Michael's." + +Gifford laughed. "What is orthodoxy, doctor?" he said. "I'm sure I don't +know!" + +"'The hungry sheep look up and are not fed,'" quoted the rector in a +burlesque despair. "Why, what we believe, boy,--what _we_ believe! The +rest of my flock know better, Mr. Ward, I assure you." + +"I don't think we know what we do believe, uncle," Helen said lightly. + +"This grows worse and worse," said the rector. "Come, Helen, when an +intelligent young woman, I might say a bright young woman, makes a +commonplace speech, it is a mental yawn, and denotes exhaustion. You and +Lois are tired; run up-stairs. Vanish! I say. Good night, dear child, and +God bless you!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Ashurst Rectory, in a green seclusion of vines and creepers, stood close +to the lane,--Strawberry Lane it was called, because of a tradition that +wild strawberries grew there. The richness of the garden was scarcely +kept in bounds by its high fence; the tops of the bushes looked over it, +and climbing roses shed their petals on the path below, and cherries, +blossoms, and fruit were picked by the passer-by. "There is enough for us +inside," said the rector. + +The house itself was of gray stone, which seemed to have caught, where it +was not hidden by Virginia creepers and wistaria, the mellow coloring of +the sunset light, which flooded it from a gap in the western hills. Its +dormer-windows, their roofs like brown caps bent about their ears, had +lattices opening outward; and from one of these Lois Howe, on the evening +of Helen's wedding day, had seen her father wandering about the garden, +with the red setter at his heels, and had gone down to join him. + +"I wonder," she said, as she wound her round young arm in his, which was +behind him, and held his stick, "if John Ward has a garden? I hope so; +Helen is so fond of flowers. But he never said anything about it; he just +went around as though he was in a dream. He was perfectly happy if he +could only look at Helen!" + +"Well, that's right," said the rector; "that's proper. What else would +you have? The fact is, Lois, you don't like Ward. Now, he is a good +fellow; yes, good is just the word for him. Bless my soul, there's a +pitch of virtue about him that is exhausting. But that's our fault," he +added candidly. + +"Oh, I'll like him," Lois said quickly, "if he will just make Helen +happy." + +The rector shook his head. "I know how you feel," he said, "and I +acknowledge he is odd; that talk of his last night about slavery being +a righteous institution"-- + +"Oh, he didn't say that, father," Lois interrupted. + +--"was preposterous," continued Dr. Howe, not noticing her; "but +he's earnest, he's sincere, and I have a great deal of respect for +earnestness. And look here, Lois, you must not let anybody see you are +not in sympathy with Helen's choice; be careful of that tongue of yours, +child. It's bad taste to make one's private disappointments public. I +wouldn't speak of it even to your aunt Deely, if I were you." + +He stooped down to pull some matted grass from about the roots of a +laburnum-tree, whose dark leaves were lighted by golden loops of +blossoms, "Thirty-eight years ago," he said, "your mother and I planted +this; we had just come home from our wedding journey, and she had brought +this slip from her mother's garden in Virginia. But dear me, I suppose +I've told you that a dozen times. What? How to-day brings back that trip +of ours! We came through Lockhaven, but it was by stage-coach. I remember +we thought we were so fortunate because the other two passengers got out +there, and we had the coach to ourselves. Your mother had a striped +ribbon, or gauze,--I don't know what you call it,--on her bonnet, and it +kept blowing out of the window of the coach, like a little flag. You +young people can go further in less time, when you travel, but you will +never know the charm of staging it through the mountains. I declare, I +haven't thought of it for years, but to-day brings it all back to me!" + +They had reached the rectory porch, and Dr. Howe settled himself in his +wicker chair and lighted his cigar, while Lois sat down on the steps, and +began to dig small holes in the gravel with the stick her father had +resigned to her. + +The flood of soft lamplight from the open hall door threw the portly +figure of the rector into full relief, and, touching Lois's head, as she +sat in the shadow at the foot of the steps, with a faint aureole, fell in +a broad bright square on the lawn in front of the house. They had begun +to speak again of the wedding, when the click of the gate latch and the +swinging glimmer of a lantern through the lilacs and syringas warned them +that some one was coming, and in another moment the Misses Woodhouse +and their nephew stepped across the square of light. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were quite unconscious that they gave the +impression of carrying Gifford about with them, rather than of being +supported by him, for each little lady had passed a determined arm +through one of his, and instead of letting her small hand, incased in its +black silk mitt, rest upon his sleeve, pressed it firmly to her breast. + +Ashurst was a place where friendships grew in simplicity as well as +strength with the years, and because these three people had been most of +the morning at the rectory, arranging flowers, or moving furniture about, +or helping with some dainty cooking, and then had gone to the church at +noon for the wedding, they saw no reason why they should not come again +in the evening. So the sisters had put on their second-best black silks, +and, summoning Gifford, had walked through the twilight to the rectory. +Miss Deborah Woodhouse had a genius for economy, which gave her great +pleasure and involved but slight extra expense to the household, and she +would have felt it a shocking extravagance to have kept on the dress she +had worn to the wedding. Miss Ruth, who was an artist, the sisters said, +and fond of pretty things, reluctantly followed her example. + +They sat down now on the rectory porch, and began to talk, in their +eager, delicate little voices, of the day's doings. They scarcely noticed +that their nephew and Lois had gone into the fragrant dusk of the garden. +It did not interest them that the young people should wish to see, as +Gifford had said, how the sunset light lingered behind the hills; and +when they had exhausted the subject of the wedding, Miss Ruth was anxious +to ask the rector about his greenhouse and the relative value of leaf +mould and bone dressing, so they gave no thought to the two who still +delayed among the flowers. + +This was not surprising. Gifford and Lois had known each other all their +lives. They had quarreled and made up with kisses, and later on had +quarreled and made up without the kisses, but they had always felt +themselves the most cordial and simple friends. Then had come the time +when Gifford must go to college, and Lois had only seen him in his short +vacations; and these gradually became far from pleasant. "Gifford has +changed," she said petulantly. "He is so polite to me," she complained to +Helen; not that Gifford had ever been rude, but he had been brotherly. + +He once asked her for a rose from a bunch she had fastened in her dress. +"Why don't you pick one yourself, Giff?" she said simply; and afterwards, +with a sparkle of indignant tears in her eyes and with a quick impatience +which made her an amusing copy of her father, she said to Helen, "I +suppose he meant to treat me as though I was some fine young lady. Why +can't he be just the old Giff?" And when he came back from Europe, she +declared he was still worse. + +Yet even in their estrangement they united in devotion to Helen. It was +to Helen they appealed in all their differences, which were many, and her +judgment was final; Lois never doubted it, even though Helen generally +thought Gifford was in the right. So now, when her cousin had left her, +she was at least sure of the young man's sympathy. + +She was glad that he was going to practice in Lockhaven; he would be near +Helen, and make the new place less lonely for her, she said, once. And +Helen had smiled, as though she could be lonely where John was! + +They walked now between the borders, where old-fashioned flowers crowded +together, towards the stone bench. This was a slab of sandstone, worn and +flaked by weather, and set on two low posts; it leaned a little against +the trunk of a silver-poplar tree, which served for a back, and it looked +like an altar ready for the sacrifice. The thick blossoming grass, which +the mower's scythe had been unable to reach, grew high about the corners; +three or four stone steps led up to it, but they had been laid so long +ago they were sunken at one side or the other, and almost hidden by moss +and wild violets. Quite close to the bench a spring bubbled out of the +hill-side, and ran singing through a hollowed locust log, which was mossy +green where the water had over-flowed, with a musical drip, upon the +grass underneath. + +They stood a moment looking towards the west, where a golden dust seemed +blown across the sky, up into the darkness; then Lois took her seat upon +the bench. "When do you think you will get off, Giff?" she said. + +"I'm not quite sure," he answered; he was sitting on one of the lower +steps, and leaning on his elbow in the grass, so that he might see her +face. "I suppose it will take a fortnight to arrange everything." + +"I'm sorry for that," Lois said, disappointedly. "I thought you would go +in a few days." + +Gifford was silent, and began to pick three long stems of grass and braid +them together. Lois sat absently twisting the fringe on one end of the +soft scarf of yellow crepe, which was knotted across her bosom, and fell +almost to the hem of her white dress. + +"I mean," she said, "I'm sorry Helen won't have you in Lockhaven. Of +course Ashurst will miss you. Oh, dear! how horrid it will be not to +have Helen here!" + +"Yes," said Gifford sympathetically, "you'll be awfully lonely." + +They were silent for a little while. Some white phlox in the girl's bosom +glimmered faintly, and its heavy fragrance stole out upon the warm air. +She pulled off a cluster of the star-like blossoms, and held them +absently against her lips. "You don't seem at all impatient to get away +from Ashurst, Giff," she said. "If I had been you, I should have gone to +Lockhaven a month ago; everything is so sleepy here. Oh, if I were a man, +wouldn't I just go out into the world!" + +"Well, Lockhaven can scarcely be called the world," Gifford answered in +his slow way. + +"But I should think you would want to go because it will be such a +pleasure to Helen to have you there," she said. + +Gifford smiled; he had twisted his braid of grass into a ring, and +had pushed it on the smallest of his big fingers, and was turning it +thoughtfully about. "I don't believe," he said, "that it will make the +slightest difference to Helen whether I am there or not. She has Mr. +Ward." + +"Oh," Lois said, "I hardly think even Mr. Ward can take the place of +father, and the rectory, and me. I know it will make Helen happier to +have somebody from home near her." + +"No," the young man said, with a quiet persistence, "it won't make the +slightest difference, Lois. She'll have the person she loves best in the +world; and with the person one loves best one could be content in the +desert of Sahara." + +"You seem to have a very high opinion of John Ward," Lois said, a thread +of anger in her voice. + +"I have," said Gifford; "but that isn't what I mean. It's love, not John +Ward, which means content. But you don't have a very high opinion of +him?" + +"Oh, yes, I have," Lois said quickly; "only he isn't good enough for +Helen. I suppose, though, I'd say that of anybody. And he irritates me, +he is so different from other people. I don't think I do--adore him!" + +Gifford did not speak; he took another strand of grass, and began to +weave it round and round his little ring, to make it smaller. + +"Perhaps I ought not to say that," she added; "of course I wouldn't to +any one but you." + +"You ought not to say it to me, Lois," he said. + +"Why? Isn't it true?" she said. "I don't think it is wrong to say he's +different; it's certainly true!" Gifford was silent. "Do you?" she +demanded. + +"Yes," Gifford answered quietly; "and somehow it doesn't seem fair, don't +you know, to say anything about them, they are so happy; it seems as +though we ought not even to speak of them." + +Lois was divided between indignation at being found fault with and +admiration for the sentiment. "Well," she said, rather meekly for her, "I +won't say anything more; no doubt I'll like him when I know him better." + +"See if that fits your finger, Lois," her companion said, sitting up, and +handing her the little grass ring. She took it, smiling, and tried it on. +Gifford watched her with an intentness which made him frown; her bending +head was like a shadowy silhouette against the pale sky, and the little +curls caught the light in soft mist around her forehead. + +"But I'm glad for my own part, then," she went on, "to think of you with +Helen. You must tell me everything about her and about her life, when +you write; she won't do it herself." + +"I will," he answered, "if you let me write to you." + +Lois opened her eyes with surprise; here was this annoying formality +again, which Gifford's fault-finding seemed to have banished. "Let you +write?" she said impatiently. "Why, you know I depended on your writing, +Giff, and you must tell me everything you can think of. What's the good +of having a friend in Lockhaven, if you don't?" + +She had clasped her hands lightly on her knees, and was leaning forward a +little, looking at him; for he had turned away from her, and was pulling +at a bunch of violets. "I tell you what it is, Lois," he said; "I cannot +go away, and write to you, and not--and not tell you. I suppose I'm a +fool to tell you, but I can't help it." + +"Tell me what?" Lois asked, bewildered. + +"Oh," Gifford burst out, rising, and standing beside her, his big figure +looming up in the darkness, "it's this talk of friendship, Lois, that I +cannot stand. You see, I love you." + +There was silence for one long moment. It was so still they could hear +the bubbling of the spring, like a soft voice, complaining in the +darkness. Then Lois said, under her breath, "Oh, Gifford!" + +"Yes, I do," he went on, desperately. "I know you've never thought of +such a thing; somehow, I could not seem to make you see it,--you wouldn't +see it; but I do love you, and--and, Lois--if you could care, just a +little? I've loved you so long." + +Lois shrank back against the silver-poplar tree, and put her hands up to +her face. In a moment tenderness made the young man forget his anxiety. +"Did I startle you?" he said, sitting down beside her; but he did not +take her hand, as he might have done in their old frank friendship. "I'm +so sorry, but I couldn't help telling you. I know you've been unconscious +of it, but how could a fellow help loving you, Lois? And I couldn't go +away to Lockhaven and not know if there was any chance for me. Can you +care, a--little?" + +She did not speak until he said again, his voice trembling with a sudden +hope, "Won't you say one word, Lois?" + +"Why, Giff," she said, sitting up very straight, and looking at him, her +wet eyes shining in the darkness, "you know I care--I've always cared, +but not that way--and--and--you don't, Giff, you don't really--it's just +a fancy." + +"It is not a fancy," he answered quietly. "I knew I loved you that first +time I came home from college. But you were too young; it would not have +been right. And then before I went abroad, I tried to tell you once; but +I thought from the way you spoke you did not care. So I didn't say +anything more; but I love you, and I always shall." + +"Oh, Gifford," Lois cried, with a voice full of distress, "you _mustn't_! +Why, don't you see? You're just like my brother. Oh, do please let us +forget all this, and let's be just as we used to be." + +"We cannot," he said gently. "But I won't make you unhappy; I won't speak +if you tell me to be silent." + +"Indeed, I do tell you to be silent," she said, in a relieved tone. +"I--could not, Giff. So we'll just forget it. Promise me you will forget +it?" + +He shook his head, with a slow smile. "You must forget it, if it will +make you any happier; but you cannot ask me to forget. I am happier to +remember. I shall always love you, Lois." + +"But you mustn't!" she cried again. "Why can't we have just the old +friendship? Indeed--indeed, it never could be anything else; and," with a +sudden break of tenderness in her voice, "I--I really am so fond of you, +Giff!" + +Here the young man smiled a little bitterly. Friendship separated them as +inexorably as though it had been hate! + +"And," the girl went on, gaining confidence as she spoke, for argument +cleared the air of sentiment, in which she felt as awkward as she was +unkind, "and you know there are a good many things you don't like in me; +you think I have lots of faults,--you know you do." + +"I suppose I do, in a way," he acknowledged; "but if I didn't love you so +much, Lois, I would not notice them." + +Lois held her head a little higher, but did not speak. He watched her +twist her fingers nervously together; she had forgotten to take off the +little ring of braided grass. + +"I am so sorry, Giff," she said, to break the silence,--"oh, so sorry. +I--I can't forgive myself." + +"There is nothing to forgive," he answered gently; "and you must not +distress yourself by thinking that I am unhappy. I am better, Lois, yes, +and happier, because I love you. It shall be an inspiration to me all my +life, even if you should forget all about me. But I want you to make me +one promise, will you?" + +She hesitated. "If I can, Giff;" and then, with sudden trustfulness, she +added, "Yes, I will. What is it?" + +She had risen, and was standing on the step above him. He looked at her +nervous little hands a moment, but did not touch them, and then he said, +"If the time ever comes when you can love me, tell me so. I ask you this, +Lois, because I cannot bear to distress you again by speaking words of +love you do not want to hear, and yet I can't help hoping; and I shall +always love you, but it shall be in silence. So if the day ever does come +when you can love me, promise to tell me." + +"Oh, yes," she said, glad to grant something. "But, Gifford, dear, it +will never come; I must say that now." + +"But you promise?" + +"Yes," she answered, soberly. "I promise." + +He looked at her steadily a moment. "God bless you, dear," he said. + +"Oh, Gifford!" cried the girl, and with a sudden impulse she stooped and +kissed his forehead; then, half frightened at what she had done, but not +yet regretting it, she brushed past him, and went swiftly up the path to +the rectory. + +The young man stood quite still a moment, with reverent head bent as +though he had received a benediction, and then turned and followed her. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Lois Howe's mind was in a strange tumult that night; the subtile thrill, +which is neither pain nor pride, and yet seems both, with which a young +woman hears for the first time that she is loved, stung through all her +consciousness of grief at having wounded her old friend. Tears came into +her eyes once, and yet she did not know why; perhaps it was anger. How +could Gifford have been so foolish as to talk that way, and make her have +to say what she did? The old friendship was what she wanted. And then +more tears came; and for the first time in her simple girlish life, Lois +could not understand her own heart. + +It was because Helen had gone away, she said to herself, and she was +tired; and that gave her the right to cry with all her heart, which was +a great relief. + +But Lois was young. The next morning, when she pushed back her windows, +she felt joy bubble up in her soul as unrestrainedly as though she had +never said a word to Gifford which could make his heart ache. The +resistance and spring of the climbing roses made her lean out to fasten +her lattices back, and a shower of dew sprinkled her hair and bosom; and +at the sudden clear song of the robin under the eaves, she stood +breathless a moment to listen, with that simple gladness of living which +is perhaps a supreme unselfishness in its entire unconsciousness of +individual joy. + +But like the rest of the world, Lois found that such moments do not last; +the remembrance of the night before forced itself upon her, and she +turned to go down-stairs, with a troubled face. + +Of course there is plenty to do the day after a wedding, and Lois was +glad to have the occupation; it was a relief to be busy. + +Ashurst ladies always washed the breakfast things themselves; no length +of service made it seem proper to trust the old blue china and the +delicate glass to the servants. So Lois wiped her cups and saucers, and +then, standing on a chair in the china-closet, put the dessert plates +with the fine gilt pattern borders, which had been used yesterday, on the +very back of the top shelf, in such a quick, decided way Jean trembled +for their safety. + +The rectory dining-room was low-studded, and lighted by one wide latticed +window, which had a cushioned seat, with a full valance of flowered +chintz; the dimity curtains were always pushed back, for Dr. Howe was +fond of sunshine. In the open fireplace, between the brasses, stood a +blue jug filled with white lilacs, and the big punch-bowl on the +sideboard was crowded with roses. There were antlers over the doors, and +the pictures on the walls were of game and fish, and on the floor was a +bear-skin, which was one of the rector's trophies. + +Lois stood by a side-table which held a great pan of hot water; she had +a long-handled mop in her hand and a soft towel over her arm, and she +washed and wiped some wine-glasses with slender twisted stems and +sparkling bowls, and then put them on their shelves in the corner closet, +where they gleamed and glittered in the sunshine, pouring through the +open window. + +She did not work as fast now, for things were nearly in order, and she +dreaded having nothing to do; her aunt, Mrs. Dale, would have said she +was dawdling, but Miss Deborah Woodhouse, who had come over to the +rectory early to see if she could be of use, said haste was not genteel, +and it was a pleasure to see a young person who was deliberate in her +movements. + +"But you must let me help you, my dear," she added, taking off her +gloves, and pulling the fingers straight and smooth. + +"Indeed, Miss Deborah, there is nothing more to do," Lois answered, +smiling, as she closed the brass-hinged doors of the corner closet. + +"Dear me!" said the other absently, "I do trust dear Gifford's +china-closet will be kept in proper order. Your shelves do credit to +Jean's housekeeping; indeed they do! And I hope he'll have a maid who +knows how to put the lavender among the linen; there's always a right and +a wrong way. I have written out directions for her, of course, but if +there was time I would write and ask Helen to see to it." + +"Why, Giff says he won't get off for a fortnight," Lois said, with +sudden surprise. + +"I thought so," responded Miss Deborah, shaking her head, so that the +little gray curls just above her ears trembled,--"I thought so, too; but +last night he said he was going at once. At least," stopping to correct +herself, "dear Ruth and I think it best for him to go. I have everything +ready for him, so no doubt he'll get off to-morrow." + +Lois was silent. + +"The fact is," said Miss Deborah, lowering her voice, "Gifford does not +seem perfectly happy. Of course you wouldn't be apt to observe it; but +those things don't escape my eyes. He's been depressed for some time." + +"I hadn't noticed it," said Lois faintly. + +"Oh, no, certainly not," answered Miss Deborah; "it would be scarcely +proper that you should, considering the reason: but it's no surprise to +me. I always thought that when they grew old enough, dear Giff and Helen +would care for one another; and so I don't wonder that he has been +feeling some disappointment since he came home, though I had written him +she was engaged--Much too young she was, too, in my judgment." + +Lois's astonishment was so great that she dropped her mop, and Miss +Deborah looked at her reprovingly over her glasses. "Oh, yes, there's no +doubt Gifford felt it," she said, "but he'll get over it. Those things do +not last with men. You know I wouldn't speak of this to any one but you, +but he's just like a brother to you." + +"Yes, exactly like a brother," Lois said hurriedly, "and I think I should +have known it if it had been--had been that way." + +"No," said Miss Deborah, putting down the last glass, "I think not. I +only guessed it myself last night; it is all over now; those things never +last. And very likely he'll meet some nice girl in Lockhaven who will +make him happy; indeed, I shouldn't wonder if we heard he was taken with +somebody at once; hearts are often caught on the rebound! I don't know," +Miss Deborah added candidly, "how lasting an attachment formed on a +previous disappointment might be; and dear me! he does feel her marriage +very much." + +Here Sally came in to take away the pan and mop, and Lois looked about to +see if there was anything more to do. She was very anxious to bring Miss +Deborah's conversation to an end, and grateful that Jean should come and +ask her to take some silver, borrowed for yesterday's festivities, back +to Mrs. Dale. + +"It's these spoons," the old woman explained to Miss Deborah. "Mrs. Dale, +she lent us a dozen. I've counted 'em all myself; I wouldn't trust 'em to +that Sally. If there was a hair's difference, Mrs. Dale would know it +'fore she set eyes on them, let alone havin' one of our spoons 'stead of +hers." + +Miss Deborah nodded her head. "Very likely, Jean," she said; "I've not a +doubt of it. I'm going now, and Miss Lois will walk along with me. Yes, +Mrs. Dale would see if anything was wrong, you can depend upon it." + +They set out together, Lois listening absently to Miss Deborah's chatter +about the wedding, and vaguely glad when, at the gate of her aunt's +house, she could leave her, with a pretty bow, which was half a courtesy. + +There was a depressing stateliness about Dale house, which was felt as +soon as the stone gateway, with its frowning sphinxes, was passed. The +long shutters on either side of the front door were always solemnly +bowed, for Mrs. Dale did not approve of faded carpets, and the roof of +the veranda, supported by great white pillars, darkened the second-story +windows. There was no tangle of vines about its blank walls of +cream-colored brick with white trimmings, nor even trees to soften the +stare with which it surveyed the dusty highway; and the formal precision +of the place was unrelieved by flowers, except for a stiff design in +foliage plants on the perfectly kept lawn. + +On the eastern side of the house, about the deep windows of Mr. Dale's +sanctum, ivy had been permitted to grow, and there were a few larch and +beech trees, and a hedge to hide the stables; but these were special +concessions to Mr. Dale. + +"I do dislike," said Mrs. Dale,--"I do dislike untidy gardens; flowers, +and vines, and trees, all crowded together, and weeds too, if the truth's +told. I never could understand how the Woodhouse girls could endure that +forlorn old place of theirs. But then, a woman never does make a really +good manager unless she's married." + +Lois found her aunt in the long parlor, playing Patience. She was sitting +in a straight-backed chair,--for Mrs. Dale scorned the weakness of a +rocking-chair,--before a spindle-legged table, covered with green baize +and with a cherry-wood rim inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory. On it +were thirteen groups of cards, arranged with geometrical exactness at +intervals of half an inch. + +"Well, Lois," she said, as her niece entered. "Oh, you have brought the +spoons back?" But she interrupted herself, her eyebrows knitted and her +lower lip thrust out, to lift a card slowly, and decide if she should +move it. Then she glanced at the girl over her glasses. "I'm just waiting +here because I must go into the kitchen soon, and look at my cake. That +Betty of mine must needs go and see her sick mother to-day, and I have to +look after things. But I cannot be idle. I declare, there is something +malicious in the way in which the relatives of servants fall ill!" + +She stopped here long enough to count the spoons, and then began her game +again. She was able, however, to talk while she played, and pointed out +various things which did not "go quite right" at the wedding. + +The parlor at Dale house was as exact and dreary as the garden. The whole +room suggested to Lois, watching her aunt play solitaire, and the motes +dancing in the narrow streaks of sunshine which fell between the bowed +shutters, and across the drab carpet to the white wainscoting on the +other side, the pictures in the Harry and Lucy books, or the parlor +where, on its high mantel shelf, Rosamond kept her purple jar. + +She wondered vaguely, as Mrs. Dale moved her cards carefully about, +whether her aunt had ever been "bothered" about anything. Helen's +marriage seemed only an incident to Mrs. Dale; the wedding and the +weather, the dresses and the presents, which had been a breathless +interest to Lois, were apparently of no more importance to the older +woman than the building up a suit. + +"Well," Mrs. Dale said, when she had exhausted the subject of the +wedding, "I'm sure I hope it will turn out well, but I really can't say. +Ever since I've seen this Mr. Ward I've somehow felt that it was an +experiment. In the first place, he's a man of weak will,--I'm sure of +that, because he seems perfectly ready to give way to Helen in +everything; and that isn't as it ought to be,--the man should rule! And +then, besides that, whoever heard of his people? Came from the South +somewhere, I believe, but he couldn't tell me the first name of his +great-grandfather. I doubt if he ever had any, between ourselves. Still, +I hope for the best. And I'm sure I trust," she added, with an uneasy +recollection of the cake in the oven, "she won't have trouble with +servants. I declare, the happiness of married life is in the hands of +your cook. If Betty had not gone off this morning, I should have come +over to the rectory to help you. There's so much to do after a wedding." + +"Oh, you're very kind," said Lois, "but I think Jean and I can see to +things. Miss Deborah came to help me, but we were really quite in order." + +"Miss Deborah!" said Mrs. Dale. "Well, I'm glad if she could be of any +use; she really is so un-practical. But it's lucky you have Jean. Just +wait till you get a house of your own, young lady, and then you'll +understand what the troubles of housekeeping are." + +"I'm in no haste for a house of my own," said the girl, smiling. + +"That's because you're a foolish child," returned Mrs. Dale promptly. +"You'd be a great deal happier if you were married and settled. Though I +must say there is very little chance of it, unless you go away to make a +visit, as Helen did. There is only one young man in Ashurst; and now he's +going. But for that matter, Gifford Woodhouse and you are just like +brother and sister. Yes, Lois, I must say, I wish I could see you in a +home of your own. No woman is really happy unless she's married." + +"I think I'm the best judge of that," Lois answered. "No girl could be +happier than I am; to hear father call me his--Tyrant? I don't want +anything better than that." + +"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Dale decidedly. "If you had a husband to call you +_his_ Tyrant, it would be a thousand times better. I declare, I always +think, when we pray for 'all who are destitute and oppressed,' it means +the old maids. I'm sure the 'fatherless children and widows' are thought +of, and why not the poor, forlorn, unmarried women? Indeed, I think +Archibald is almost selfish to keep you at home as he does. My girls +would never have been settled if I had let them stay in Ashurst. I've +a great mind to tell your father he isn't doing his duty. You ought to +have a winter in town." + +"Indeed, I hope you won't tell him anything of the sort!" cried Lois. "I +wouldn't leave Ashurst for the world, and I'm perfectly happy, I assure +you!" + +"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Dale calmly, "or think that no one loves +your father but yourself. He was my brother for thirty-four years before +he was your father. I only spoke for your good, and his too, for of +course he would be happier if you were." + +She stopped here to gather her cards up, and deal them out again in +little piles, and also to reprove Lois, who had made an impatient gesture +at her words. + +"These little restless ways you have are very unpleasant," she said; "my +girls never did such things. I don't know where you get your unlady-like +habits; not from your father, I'm sure. I suppose it's because you don't +go out at all; you never see anybody. There, that reminds me. I have had +a letter from Arabella Forsythe. I don't know whether you remember the +Forsythes; they used to visit here; let me see, fifteen years ago was the +last time, I think. Well, they are going to take the empty house near us +for the summer. She was a Robinson; not really Ashurst people, you know, +not born here, but quite respectable. Her father was a button +manufacturer, and he left her a great deal of money. She married a person +called Forsythe, who has since died. She has one boy, about your age, +who'll be immensely rich one of these days; he is not married. Heaven +knows when Ashurst will see an eligible young man again," she added; and +then, absently, "Eight on a nine, and there's a two-spot for my clubs!" + +"I wonder if I remember Mrs. Forsythe?" Lois said, wrinkling her pretty +forehead in a puzzled way. "Wasn't she a tall, thin lady, with a pleasant +face?" + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Dale, nodding her sleek, head, "yes, _rather_ +pleasant, but melancholy. And no wonder, talking about her aches and +pains all the time! But that's where the button manufacturer showed. She +was devoted to that boy of hers, and a very nice child he was, too." She +looked sharply at her niece as she spoke. + +"I remember him," Lois said. "I saw Gifford shake him once; 'he was too +little to lick,' he said." + +"I'm afraid Gifford is very rough and unmannerly sometimes," Mrs. Dale +said. "But then, those Woodhouse girls couldn't be expected to know how +to bring up a big boy." + +"I don't think Giff is unmannerly," cried Lois. + +"Well, not exactly," Mrs. Dale admitted; "but of course he isn't like Mr. +Forsythe. Gifford hasn't had the opportunities, or the money, you know." + +"I don't think money is of much importance," said Lois. "I don't think +money has anything to do with manners." + +"Oh, you don't know anything about it!" cried Mrs. Dale. "There! you made +me make a mistake, and lose my game. Pray do not be silly, Lois, and talk +in that emphatic way; have a little more repose. I mean this young man +is--he is very different from anybody you have ever seen in Ashurst. But +there is no use trying to tell you anything; you always keep your own +opinion. You are exactly like a bag of feathers. You punch it and think +you've made an impression, and it comes out just where it went in." + +Lois laughed, and rose to go. + +"Tell your father what I said about a winter in town," Mrs. Dale called +after her; and then, gathering her cards up, and rapping them on the +table to get the edges straight, she said to herself, "But perhaps it +won't be necessary to have a winter in town!" And there was a grim sort +of smile on her face when, a moment later, Mr. Dale, in a hesitating way, +pushed the door open, and entered. + +"I thought I heard Lois's voice, my dear," he said, with a deprecating +expression. + +He wore his flowered cashmere dressing-gown, tied about the waist with a +heavy silk cord and tassel, and a soft red silk handkerchief was spread +over his white hair to protect his head from possible draughts in the +long hall. Just now one finger was between the pages of "A Sentimental +Journey." + +"She was here," said Mrs. Dale, still smiling. "I was telling her the +Forsythes were coming. It is an excellent thing; nothing could be +better." + +"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Dale. + +"Mean?" cried his wife. "What should I be apt to mean? You have no sense +about such things, Henry." + +"Oh," said her husband meekly, "you want them to fall in love?" + +"Well, really," she answered, leaning back in her chair, and tapping her +foot impatiently, "I do not see how my husband can be so silly. One would +think I was a matchmaker, and no one detests anything of that sort as I +do,--no one! Fall in love, indeed! I think the expression is positively +indelicate, Henry. Of course, if Lois should be well married, I should be +grateful; and if it should be Mr. Forsythe, I should only feel I had done +my duty in urging Arabella to take a house in Ashurst." + +"Oh, you urged her?" + +"I wrote her Ashurst was very pleasant," Mrs. Dale acknowledged, "and it +was considered healthy. (I understand Arabella!) I knew her son was going +abroad later in the summer, but I thought, if he once got here"-- + +"Ah," responded Mr. Dale. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +John and Helen had not gone at once to Lockhaven; they spent a fortnight +in wandering about through the mountains on horseback. The sweet June +weather, the crystal freshness of the air, and the melodious stillness of +the woods and fields wrapped those first heavenly days of entire +possession in a mist of joy. Afterwards, John Ward felt that it had +blinded the eyes of his soul, and drifted between him and his highest +duty; he had not been able to turn away from the gladness of living in +her presence to think of what had been, during all their engagement, an +anxiety and grief, and, he had promised himself, should be his earliest +thought when she became his wife:--the unsaved condition of her soul. + +When he had first seen her, before he knew he loved her, he had realized +with distress and terror how far she was from what he called truth; how +indifferent to what was the most important thing in the whole world to +him,--spiritual knowledge. He listened to what she said of her uncle's +little Episcopal church in Ashurst, and heard her laugh good-naturedly +about the rector's sermons, and then thought of the doctrines which were +preached from his own pulpit in Lockhaven. + +Helen had never listened to sermons full of the hopelessness of +predestination; she frankly said she did not believe that Adam was her +federal head and representative, and that she, therefore, was born in +sin. "I'm a sinner," she said, smiling; "we're all miserable sinners, you +know, Mr. Ward, and perhaps we all sin in original ways; but I don't +believe in original sin." + +When he spoke of eternal punishment, she looked at him with grave +surprise in her calm brown eyes. "How can you think such a thing?" she +asked. "It seems to me a libel upon the goodness of God." + +"But justice, Miss Jeffrey," he said anxiously; "surely we must +acknowledge the righteousness and justice of God's judgments." + +"If you mean that God would send a soul to hell forever, if you call that +his judgment, it seems to me unrighteous and unjust. Truly, I can think +of no greater heresy, Mr. Ward, than to deny the love of God; and is not +that what you do when you say he is more cruel than even men could be?" + +"But the Bible says"--he began, when she interrupted him. + +"It does not seem worth while to say, 'the Bible says,'" she said, +smiling a little as she looked into his troubled face. "The Bible was the +history, and poetry, and politics of the Jews, as well as their code of +ethics and their liturgy; so that, unless we are prepared to believe in +its verbal inspiration, I don't see how we can say, as an argument, 'the +Bible says.'" + +"And you do not believe in its verbal inspiration?" he said slowly. + +"No," Helen answered, "I could not." + +It was not for John Ward to ask how she had been taught, or to criticise +another minister's influence, but as he walked home, with anxious, +downcast eyes, he wondered what Dr. Howe's belief could be, and how it +had been possible for her soul to have been so neglected. This woman, +whose gracious, beautiful nature stirred him with profound admiration, +was in the darkness of unbelief; she had never been taught the truth. + +As he said this to himself, John Ward knew, with sudden, passionate +tenderness, that he loved her. Yet it was months before he came and told +her. What right had he to love her? he said to himself, when he knelt and +prayed for her soul's salvation: she was an unbeliever; she had never +come to Christ, or she would have known the truth. His duty to his people +confronted him with its uncompromising claim that the woman whom he +should bring to help him in his labors among them should be a Christian, +and he struggled to tear this love out of his heart. + +John Ward's was an intellect which could not hold a belief subject to +the mutations of time or circumstances. Once acknowledged by his soul, +its growth was ended; it hardened into a creed, in which he rested in +complete satisfaction. It was not that he did not desire more light; it +was simply that he could not conceive that there might be more light. And +granting his premise that the Bible was directly inspired by God, he was +not illogical in holding with a pathetic and patient faith to the +doctrines of the Presbyterian Church. + +Helen's belief was as different as was her mode of thought. It was +perhaps a development of her own nature, rather than the result of her +uncle's teaching, though she had been guided by him spiritually ever +since he had taken her to his own home, on the death of her parents, when +she was a little child. "Be a good girl, my dear," Dr. Howe would say. So +she learned her catechism, and was confirmed just before she went to +boarding-school, as was the custom with Ashurst young women, and sung in +the choir, while Mr. Denner drew wonderful chords from the organ, and she +was a very well-bred and modest young woman, taking her belief for +granted, and giving no more thought to the problems of theology than +girls usually do. + +But this was before she met John Ward. After those first anxious +questions of his, Helen began to understand how slight was her hold upon +religion. But she did not talk about her frame of mind, nor dignify the +questions which began to come by calling them doubts; how could they be +doubts, when she had never known what she had believed? So, by degrees, +she built up a belief for herself. + +Love of good was really love of God, in her mind. Heaven meant +righteousness, and hell an absence from what was best and truest; but +Helen did not feel that a soul must wait for death before it was +overtaken by hell. It was very simple and very short, this creed of +hers; yet it was the doorway through which grief and patience were to +come,--the sorrow of the world, the mystery of sin, and the hope of that +far-off divine event. + +There was no detail of religious thought with Helen Jeffrey; ideas +presented themselves to her mind with a comprehensiveness and simplicity +which would have been impossible to Mr. Ward. But at this time he knew +nothing of the mental processes that were leading her out of the calm, +unreasoning content of childhood into a mist of doubt, which, as she +looked into the future, seemed to darken into night. He was struggling +with his conscience, and asking himself if he had any right to seek her +love. + +"Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," he said to himself. +To his mind, Helen's lack of belief in certain doctrines--for it had +hardly crystallized into unbelief--was sin; and sin was punishable by +eternal death. Here was his escape from conscience. Should this sweet +soul, that he loved more than his own, be lost? No; surely, it was a +sacred right and duty to win her heart and marry her, that he might take +her away from the atmosphere of religious indifference in which she +lived, and guide her to light and life. + +Love won the day. "I will save her soul!" he said to himself; and with +this purpose always before him to hide a shadow, which whispered,--so he +thought,--"This is a sin," he asked her to be his wife. + +He did not have to plead long. "I think I have always loved you," Helen +said, looking up into his eyes; and John was so happy that every thought +of anxiety for her soul was swallowed up in gratitude to God for her +love. + +It was one midsummer afternoon that he reached Ashurst; he went at once +to the rectory, though with no thought of asking Dr. Howe's permission to +address his niece. It seemed to John as though there were only their two +souls in the great sunny world that day, and his love-making was as +simple and candid as his life. + +"I've come to tell you I love you," he said, with no preface, except to +take her hands in his. + +He did not see her often during their engagement, nor did he write her of +his fears and hopes for her; he would wait until she was quite away from +Ashurst carelessness, he thought; and beside, his letters were so full of +love, there was no room for theology. But he justified silence by saying +when they were in their own home he would show her the beauty of revealed +religion; she should understand the majesty of the truth; and their +little house, which was to be sacred as the shrine of human love, should +become the very gate of heaven. + +It was a very little house, this parsonage. Its sharp pitch roof was +pulled well down over its eyes, which were four square, shining windows, +divided into twenty-four small panes of glass, so full of bubbles and +dimples that they made the passer-by seem sadly distorted, and the spire +of the church opposite have a strange bend in it. + +John Ward's study had not a great many books. He could not afford them, +for one reason; but, with a row of Edwards, and some of Dr. Samuel +Hopkins' sermons, and pamphlets by Dr. Emmons, he could spare all but one +or two volumes of Hodge and Shedd, who, after all, but reiterate, in a +form suited to a weaker age, the teachings of Dr. Jonathan Edwards. + +The dim Turkey carpet was worn down to the nap in a little path in front +of his bookshelves, where he used to stand absorbed in reading, or where +he walked back and forth, thinking out his dark and threatening sermons. +For before his marriage John preached the law rather than the gospel. + +"So I am going to hear you preach on Sunday?" Helen said, the Saturday +morning after their return. "It's odd that I've never heard you, and we +have known each other more than a year." + +He was at his desk, and she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. He +put down his pen, and turned to look up into her face. "Perhaps you will +not like my sermons;" there was a little wistfulness in his dark eyes as +he spoke. + +"Oh, yes, I shall," she said, with smiling certainty. "Sermons are pretty +much alike, don't you think? I know some of uncle Archie's almost by +heart. Really, there is only one thing to say, and you have to keep +saying it over and over." + +"We cannot say it too often," John answered. "The choice between eternal +life and eternal death should sound in the ears of unconverted men every +day of their lives." + +Helen shook her head. "I didn't mean that, John. I was thinking of the +beauty of holiness." And then she added, with a smile, "I hope you don't +preach any awful doctrines?" + +"Sometimes the truth is terrible, dear," he said gently. + +But when she had left him to write his sermon, he sat a long while +thinking. Surely she was not ready yet to hear such words as he had meant +to speak. He would put this sermon away for some future Sunday, when the +truth would be less of a shock to her. "She must come to the knowledge of +God slowly," he thought. "It must not burst upon her; it might only drive +her further from the light to hear of justice as well as mercy. She is +not able to bear it yet." + +So he took some fresh paper, and wrote, instead of his lurid text from +Hebrews, "Ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." + +But when Helen went out of the study, she thought very little of sermons +or doctrines. John filled her mind, and she had no room for wondering +about his beliefs; he could believe anything he chose; he was hers,--that +was enough. + +She went into her small kitchen, the smile still lingering upon her lips, +and through its open doorway saw her little maid, Alfaretta, out in the +sunny garden at the back of the house. She had an armful of fresh white +tea-towels, which had been put out to dry on the row of gooseberry bushes +at the end of the garden, and was coming up the path, singing cheerily, +with all the force of her strong young lungs. Helen caught the words as +she drew near:-- + + "My thoughts on awful subjects roll, + Damnation and the dead. + What horrors seize the guilty soul, + Upon the dying bed! + + "Where endless crowds of sinners lie, + And darkness makes their chains, + Tortured with keen despair they cry, + Yet wait for fiercer pains!" + +"Oh, Alfaretta!" her mistress cried, in indignant astonishment. "How can +you say such terrible words!" Alfaretta stood still, in open-mouthed +amazement, an injured look in her good-natured blue eyes. The incongruity +of this rosy-faced, happy girl, standing in the sunshine, with all the +scents and sounds of a July day about her, and singing in her cheerful +voice these hopeless words, almost made Helen smile; but she added +gravely, "I hope you will not sing that again. I do not like it." + +"But ma'am--but Mrs. Ward," said the girl, plainly hurt at the reproof, +"I was practicing. I belong to the choir." + +Alfaretta had dropped the tea-towels, hot with sunshine and smelling of +clover-blossoms, upon her well-scoured dresser, and then turned and +looked at her mistress reproachfully. "I don't know what I am going to do +if I can't practice," she said. + +"You don't mean to say you sing that in church?" cried Helen. "Where do +you go?" + +"Why, I go to your church," said the still injured Alfaretta,--"to Mr. +Ward's. We're to have that hymn on Sabbath"-- + +"Oh, there must be some mistake," remonstrated Helen. "I'm sure Mr. Ward +did not notice that verse." + +"But it's all like that; it says"-- + +"Don't tell me any more," Helen said. "I've heard enough. I had no idea +such awful words were written." Then she stopped abruptly, feeling her +position as the preacher's wife in a way of which she had never thought. + +Alfaretta's father was an elder in John's church, which gave her a +certain ease in speaking to her mistress that did not mean the slightest +disrespect. + +"Is it the words of it you don't like?" said Alfaretta, rather relieved, +since her singing had not been criticised. + +"Yes," Helen answered, "it is the words. Don't you see how dreadful they +are?" + +Alfaretta stood with her plump red hands on her hips, and regarded Mrs. +Ward with interest. "I hadn't ever thought of 'em," she said. "Yes, +ma'am. I suppose they are awful bad," and swinging back and forth on her +heels, her eyes fixed meditatively on the ceiling, she said,-- + + "'Then swift and dreadful she descends + Down to the fiery coast, + Amongst abominable fiends'-- + +Yes, that does sound dreadful. Worst of it is, you get used to 'em, and +don't notice 'em much. Why, I've sung that hymn dozens of times in +church, and never thought of the meanin'. And there's Tom Davis: he +drinks most of the time, but he has sung once or twice in the choir +(though he ain't been ever converted yet, and he is really terrible +wicked; don't do nothin' but swear and drink). But I don't suppose he +noticed the words of this hymn,--though I know he sung it,--for he keeps +right on in his sin; and he couldn't, you know, Mrs. Ward, if that hymn +was true to him." + +Helen left Alfaretta to reflect upon the hymn, and went back to the +study; but the door was shut, and she heard the scratching of her +husband's pen. She turned away, for she had lived in a minister's +household, and had been brought up to know that nothing must disturb +a man who was writing a sermon. But John had hurriedly opened the door. + +"Did you want to speak to me, dearest?" he said, standing at the foot of +the stairs, his pen still between his fingers. "I heard your step." + +"But I must not interrupt you," she answered, smiling at him over the +balusters. + +"You never could interrupt me. Come into the study and tell me what it +is." + +"Only to ask you about a hymn which Alfaretta says is to be sung on +Sunday," Helen said. "Of course there is some mistake about it, but +Alfaretta says the choir has been practicing it, and I know you would not +want it." + +"Do you remember what it was, dear?" + +"I can't quote it," Helen answered, "but it began something about +'damnation and the dead.'" + +"Oh, yes, I know;" and then he added, slowly, "Why don't you like it, +Helen?" + +She looked at him in astonishment. "Why, it's absurd; it's horrible." + +John was silent for a few moments, and then he sighed: "We will not sing +it, dear." + +"But, John," she cried, "how could such a hymn ever have been printed? Of +course I know people used to think such things, but I had no idea anybody +thought of hell in that literal way to-day, or that hell itself was a +real belief to very many people; however, I suppose, if such hymns are +printed, the doctrine is still taught?" + +"Yes," John said, "it is as real to-day as God himself,--as it always has +been and must be; and it is believed by Christians as earnestly as ever. +We cannot help it, Helen." + +Helen looked at him thoughtfully. "It is very terrible; but oh, John, +what sublime faith, to be able to believe God capable of such awful +cruelty, and yet to love and trust Him!" + +John's face grew suddenly bright. "'Though He slay me, yet will I trust +Him,'" he said, with the simplicity of assurance. But when he went back +again to his sermon, he was convinced that he had been wise to put off +for a little while the instruction in doctrine of which his wife's soul +stood in such sore need. + +"I was right," he thought; "the Light must come gradually, the blaze of +truth at once would blind her to the perfection of justice. She would not +be able to understand there was mercy, too." + +So the choir was told the hymn would be "Welcome, sweet day of rest," +which, after all, was much better suited to the sermon. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Why the Misses Woodhouse, and Mr. Dale, and Mr. Denner should go to the +rectory for their Saturday night games of whist was never very clear to +any of them. The rector did not understand the game, he said, and it was +perhaps to learn that he watched every play so closely. Lois, of course, +had no part in it, for Mrs. Dale was always ready to take a hand, if one +of the usual four failed. Mrs. Dale was too impatient to play whist from +choice, but she enjoyed the consciousness of doing a favor. + +Lois's only occupation was to be useful. Ashurst was strangely behind the +times in thinking that it was a privilege, as it ought to be a pleasure, +for young people to wait upon their elders and betters. + +True, Mr. Denner, with old-fashioned politeness, always offered his +services when Lois went for the wine and cake at close of the rubber; but +the little gentleman would have been conscious of distinct surprise had +she accepted them, for Lois, in his eyes, was still a little girl. This +was perhaps because Mr. Denner, at sixty-two, did not realize that he had +ceased to be, as he would have expressed it, "a gentleman in middle +life." He had no landmarks of great emotions to show him how far the +sleepy years had carried him from his youth; and life in Ashurst was very +placid. There were no cases to try; property rarely went out of families +which had held it when Mr. Denner's father wrote their wills and drew up +their deeds in the same brick office which his son occupied now, and it +was a point of decency and honor that wills should not be disputed. + +Yet Mr. Denner felt that his life was full of occupation. He had his +practicing in the dim organ-loft of St. Michael's and All Angels; and +every day when dinner was over, his little nephew slipped from his chair, +and stood with his hands behind him to recite his _rego regere_; then +there were always his flies and rods to keep in order against the season +when he and the rector started on long fishing tramps; and in the +evenings, when Willie had gone to bed, and his cook was reading "The +Death Beds of Eminent Saints" by the kitchen fire, Mr. Denner worked out +chess problems by himself in his library, or read Cavendish and thought +of next Saturday; and besides all this, he went once a week to Mercer, +and sat waiting for clients in a dark back office, while he studied his +weekly paper. + +But though there seemed plenty to do, sometimes Mr. Denner would sigh, +and say to himself that it was somewhat lonely, and Mary was certainly +severe. He supposed that was because she had no mistress to keep an eye +on her. + +These weekly games of whist were a great pleasure to him. The library at +the rectory was cheerful, and there was a feeling of importance in +playing a game at which the rector and Mrs. Dale only looked on. It was +understood that the gentlemen might smoke, though the formality of asking +permission of the ladies, and being urged by them, always took place. Mr. +Denner's weekly remark to the Misses Woodhouse in this connection, as he +stood ready to strike a match on the hearth of the big fireplace, was +well known. "When ladies," he would say, bowing to each sister in turn, +with his little heels close together and his toes turned well out,--"when +ladies are so charitable to our vices, we will not reform, lest we lose +the pleasure of being forgiven." Mr. Denner smoked a cigar, but Mr. Dale +always drew from his pocket a quaint silver pipe, very long and slender, +and with an odd suggestion of its owner about it; for he was tall and +frail, and his thin white hair, combed back from his mild face, had a +silvery gleam in the lamplight. Often the pipe would be between the pages +of a book, from the leaves of which Lois would have to shake the loose +ashes before putting it back in his pocket. + +The whist party sat in high-backed chairs about a square mahogany table, +whose shining top betokened much muscle on the part of Sally. At each +corner was a candle in a tall silver candlestick, because Miss Deborah +objected to a shadow on the board, which would have been cast by a +hanging lamp. The August night was hot, and doors and windows were open +for any breath of air that might be stirring in the dark garden. Max had +retreated to the empty fireplace, finding the bricks cooler than the +carpeted floor. All was very still, save when the emphatic sweep of a +trump card made the candle flames flicker. But the deals were a +diversion. Then the rector, who had tiptoed about, to look over the +shoulder of each player, might say, "You didn't answer Miss Ruth's call, +Denner;" or, "Bless my soul, Dale, what made you play a ten-spot on that +second hand round? You ought not to send a boy to take a trick, sir!" + +It was in one of these pauses that Mrs. Dale, drawing a shining +knitting-needle out of her work, said, "I suppose you got my message this +morning, brother, that Arabella Forsythe didn't feel well enough to come +to-night? I told her she should have Henry's place, but she said she +wasn't equal to the excitement." Mrs. Dale gave a careful laugh; she did +not wish to make Mrs. Forsythe absurd in the eyes of one person present. + +"You offered her my place, my dear?" Mr. Dale asked, turning his blue +eyes upon her. "I didn't know that, but it was quite right." + +"Of course it was," replied Mrs. Dale decidedly, while the rector said, +"Yes, young Forsythe said you sent him to say so." + +Mrs. Dale glanced at Lois, sitting in one of the deep window-seats, +reading, with the lamplight shining on her pretty face. + +"I asked him to come," continued the rector, "but he said he must not +leave his mother; she was not feeling well." + +"Quite right, very proper," murmured the rest of the party; but Mrs. Dale +added, "As there's no conversation, I'm afraid it would have been very +stupid; I guess he knew that. And I certainly should not have allowed +Henry to give up his seat to him." As she said this, she looked at Mr. +Denner, who felt, under that clear, relentless eye, his would have been +the seat vacated, if Dick Forsythe had come. Mr. Denner sighed; he had no +one to protect him, as Dale had. + +"I wonder," said Miss Deborah, who was sorting her cards, and putting all +the trumps at the right side, "what decided Mr. Forsythe to spend the +summer here? I understood that his mother took the house in Ashurst just +because he was going to be abroad." + +Mrs. Dale nodded her head until her glasses glistened, and looked at +Lois, but the girl's eyes were fastened upon her book. + +"I think," remarked Mr. Dale, hesitating, and then glancing at his wife, +"he is rather a changeable young man. He has one view in the morning, and +another in the afternoon." + +"Don't be so foolish, Henry," said his wife sharply. "I hope there's +nothing wrong in the young man finding his own country more attractive +than Europe? To change his mind in that way is very sensible." But this +was in a hushed voice, for Mr. Denner had led, and the room was silent +again. + +At the next deal, Miss Deborah looked sympathetically at Mr. Dale. "I +think he is changeable," she said; "his own mother told me that she was +constantly afraid he'd marry some unsuitable young woman, and the only +safety was that he would see a new one before it became too serious. She +said it really told upon her health. Dear me, I should think it might." + +Mrs. Dale tossed her head, and her knitting-needles clicked viciously; +then she told Lois that this was the rubber, and she had better see to +the tray. The young girl must have heard every word they said, though +she had not lifted her bright eyes from her book, but she did not seem +disturbed by the charge of fickleness on the part of Mr. Forsythe. He had +not confided to her his reasons for not going abroad; all she knew was +that the summer was the merriest one she had ever spent. "I feel so +young," little Lois said; and indeed she had caught a certain careless +gayety from her almost daily companion, which did not belong to Ashurst. +But she gave no thought to his reason for staying, though her father and +Mrs. Dale did, and with great satisfaction. + +"What do you hear from Helen, brother?" Mrs. Dale asked, as Lois rose to +do her bidding. Mrs. Dale was determined to leave the subject of Dick +Forsythe, "for Henry has so little sense," she thought, "there is no +knowing what he'll say next, or Deborah Woodhouse either. But then, one +couldn't expect anything else of her." + +"Ah,--she's all right," said Dr. Howe, frowning at Miss Ruth's hand, and +then glancing at Mr. Dale's, and thrusting out his lower lip, while his +bushy eyebrows gathered in a frown. + +"What is Ward?" asked Mr. Dale, sorting his cards. "Old or new school?" + +"I'm sure I don't know the difference," said Dr. Howe; "he's a blue +Presbyterian, though, through and through. He didn't have much to say +for himself, but what he did say made me believe he was consistent; he +doesn't stop short where his creed ceases to be agreeable, and you know +that is unusual." + +"Well," remarked the older man, "he might be consistent and belong to +either school. I am told the difference consists merely in the fact that +the old school have cold roast beef on the Sabbath, and the new school +have hot roast beef on Sunday. But doubtless both unite on hell for other +sects." + +The rector's quick laugh was silenced by the game, but at the next pause +he hastened to tell them what John Ward had said of slavery. "Fancy such +a speech!" he cried, his face growing red at the remembrance. "Under the +circumstances, I couldn't tell him what I thought of him; but I had my +opinion. I wonder," he went on, rattling a bunch of keys in his pocket, +"what would be the attitude of a mind like his in politics? Conservative +to the most ridiculous degree, I imagine. Of course, to a certain extent, +it is proper to be conservative. I am conservative myself; I don't like +to see the younger generation rushing into things because they are new, +like Gifford,--calling himself a Democrat. I beg your pardon, Miss +Deborah, for finding fault with the boy." + +"Ah, doctor, ladies don't understand politics," answered Miss Deborah +politely. + +"But really," said the rector, "for a boy whose father died for the +Union, it's absurd, you know, perfectly absurd. But Ward! one can't +imagine that he would ever change in anything, and that sort of +conservatism can be carried too far." + +"Well, now," said Mr. Denner, "I should say, I should be inclined to +think, it would be just the opposite, quite--quite the contrary. From +what you say, doctor, it seems to me more likely that he might be an +anarchist, as it were. Yes, not at all a conservative." + +"How so?" asked the rector. "A man who would say such a thing as that the +Bible, his interpretation of it, was to decide all questions of duty (a +pretty dangerous thing that, for a man must have inclinations of his own, +which would be sure to color his interpretation! What?), and who would +bring all his actions down to its literal teachings without regard to +more modern needs? No, Denner; you are wrong there." + +"Not altogether," Mr. Dale demurred in his gentle voice. "Ward would +believe in a party only so long as it agreed with his conscience, I +should suppose, and his conscience might make him--anything. And +certainly the Bible test would not leave him content with democracy, +doctor. Communism is literal Christianity. I can fancy he would leave any +party, if he thought its teachings were not supported by the Bible. But I +scarcely know him; my opinion is very superficial." + +"Why do you express it, then?" said Mrs. Dale. "Don't you see Deborah has +led? You are keeping the whole table waiting!" + +They began to play. Mr. Denner, who was facing the open door, could see +the square hall, and the white stair-rail across the first landing, where +with the moon and stars about its face, the clock stood; it was just five +minutes to nine. This made the lawyer nervous; he played a low trump, in +spite of the rector's mutter of, "Look out, Denner!" and thus lost the +trick, which meant the rubber, so he threw down his cards in despair. He +had scarcely finished explaining that he meant to play the king, but +threw the knave by mistake, when Lois entered, followed by Sally with the +big tray, which always carried exactly the same things: a little fat +decanter, with a silver collar jingling about its neck, marked, Sherry, +'39; a plate of ratifia cakes, and another of plum-cake for the rector's +especial delectation; and a silver wire basket full of home-made candy +for Mr. Dale, who had two weaknesses, candy and novels. Of late Mrs. Dale +had ceased to inveigh against these tastes, feeling that it was hopeless +to look for reformation in a man nearly seventy years old. "It is bad +manners," she said, "to do foolish things if they make you conspicuous. +But then! it is easier to change a man's creed than his manners." + +The candles stood in a gleaming row on the mantelpiece, where Lois had +placed them to make room for the tray on the whist-table; for it was +useless to think of putting anything on the rector's writing-table, with +its litter of church papers, and sporting journals, and numbers of Bell's +"Life," besides unanswered letters. The ladies, still sitting in the +high-backed chairs, spread white doilies over their laps, and then took +their small glasses of wine and delicate little cakes, but the gentlemen +ate and drank standing, and they all discussed the last game very +earnestly. Only Lois, waiting by the tray, ready to hand the cake, was +silent. It was a peculiarity of Ashurst that even after childhood had +passed young people were still expected to be seen, and not heard; so her +silence would only have been thought decorous, had any one noticed it. +By and by, when she saw she was not needed, she slipped out to the front +porch, and sat down on the steps. Max followed her, and thrust his cold +nose under her hand. + +She propped her chin upon her little fist, and began to think of what had +been said of Ashurst's visitors. With a thrill of subtile satisfaction, +she remembered how pleased Mrs. Forsythe always was to see her. "She +won't have any anxiety this summer which will injure her health!" And +then she tried to disguise her thought by saying to herself that there +were no girls in Ashurst who were not "suitable." + +"Good-evening," some one said gayly. It was Mr. Forsythe, who had come so +quietly along the path, dark with its arching laburnums and syringas, she +had not heard him. + +"Oh," she said, with a little start of surprise, "I did not know we were +to see you to-night. Is your mother"-- + +"I'm like the man in the Bible," he interrupted, laughing. "He said he +wouldn't, then he did!" He had followed her to the library, and stood, +smiling, with a hand on each side of the doorway. "I started for a walk, +doctor, and somehow I found myself here. No cake, thank you,--yes, I +guess I'll have some sherry. Oh, the whist is over. Who is to be +congratulated, Mrs. Dale? For my part, I never could understand the +fascination of the game. Euchre is heavy enough for me. May I have some +of Mr. Dale's candy, Miss Lois?" + +Except Mrs. Dale, the little party of older people seemed stunned by the +quick way in which he talked. His airy manner and flimsy wit impressed +them with a sense of his knowledge of life. He represented the world +to them, the World with a capital W, and they were all more or less +conscious of a certain awe in his presence. His utter disregard of the +little observances and forms which were expected from Ashurst young +people gave them a series of shocks, that were rather pleasant than +otherwise. + +Mr. Dale looked confused, and handed him the candy with such nervous +haste, some of it fell to the floor, which gave the young man a chance +for his frequent light laugh. Miss Deborah began in an agitated way to +pick up the crumbs of cake from her lap, and ask her sister if she did +not think Sarah had come for them. Mr. Denner stopped talking about a new +sort of fly for trout, and said he thought--yes, he really thought, he +had better be going, but he waited to listen with open-mouthed admiration +to the ease with which the young fellow talked. + +Mr. Forsythe's conversation was directed to Mrs. Dale, but it was for +Lois; nor did he seem aware of the silence which fell on the rest of +the company. Mrs. Dale enjoyed it. She answered by nods, and small +chuckles of approval, and frequent glances about at the others, as much +as to say, "Do you hear that? Isn't that bright?" and a certain air of +proprietorship, which meant that she thoroughly approved of Mr. Forsythe, +and regarded him as her own discovery. + +"This is the time we miss Gifford," said Miss Deborah, who had gone out +into the hall to put on her overshoes. "He was such a useful child." Lois +came to help her, for Mr. Denner was far too timid to offer assistance, +and the rector too stout, and Mr. Dale too absent-minded. As for Mr. +Forsythe, he did not notice how Miss Deborah was occupied, until Lois had +joined her; and then his offer was not accepted, for Miss Deborah felt +shy about putting out her foot in its black kid slipper, tied about the +ankle with a black ribbon, in the presence of this young man, who was, +she was sure, very genteel. + +Mr. Forsythe's call was necessarily a short one, for, charming as he was, +Ashurst custom would not have permitted him to stay when the party had +broken up. However, he meant to walk along with the Dales, and hear her +aunt talk about Lois. + +The Misses Woodhouse's maid was waiting for them, her lantern swinging in +her hand. Mr. Denner had secretly hoped for a chance of "seeing them +home," but dared not offer his unnecessary services in Sarah's presence. + +Dr. Howe and his daughter went as far as the gate with their guests, and +then stood watching them down the lane, until a turn in the road hid the +glimmer of the lantern and the dark figures beside it. + +"Bless my soul!" said the rector, as they turned to go back to the house. +"This gayety has made me almost forget my sermon. I must not put it off +so, next week." + +This remark of Dr. Howe's was almost as regular as the whist party +itself. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth trotted behind Sarah, whose determined stride +kept them a little ahead of the others; Dick Forsythe had joined Mrs. +Dale at once, so Mr. Dale and Mr. Denner walked together. They were only +far enough behind to have the zest one feels in talking about his +neighbors when there is danger of being overheard. + +"He is a very fine conversationalist," said Mr. Denner, nodding his head +in Dick's direction; "he talks very well." + +"He talks a great deal," observed Mr. Dale. + +"He seems to feel," Mr. Denner continued, "no--ah, if I can so express +it--timidity." + +"None," responded Mr. Dale. + +"And I judge he has seen a great deal of the world," said Mr. Denner; +"yet he appears to be satisfied with Ashurst, and I have sometimes +thought, Henry, that Ashurst is not, as it were, gay." As he said this, +a certain jauntiness came into his step, as though he did not include +himself among those who were not "gay." "Yet he seems to be content. +I've known him come down to the church when Lois was singing, and sit a +whole hour, apparently meditating. He is no doubt a very thoughtful young +man." + +"Bah!" answered Mr. Dale, "he comes to hear Lois sing." + +Mr. Denner gave a little start. "Oh," he said--"ah--I had not thought of +that." But when he left Mr. Dale, and slipped into the shadows of the +Lombardy poplars on either side of his white gate-posts, Mr. Denner +thought much of it,--more with a sort of envy of Mr. Forsythe's future +than of Lois. "He will marry, some time (perhaps little Lois), and then +he will have a comfortable home." + +Mr. Denner sat down on the steps outside of his big white front door, +which had a brass knocker and knob that Mary had polished until the paint +had worn away around them. Mr. Denner's house was of rough brick, laid +with great waste of mortar, so that it looked as though covered with many +small white seams. Some ivy grew about the western windows of the +library, but on the north and east sides it had stretched across the +closed white shutters, for these rooms had scarcely been entered since +little Willie Denner's mother died, five years ago. She had kept house +for her brother-in-law, and had brought some brightness into his life; +but since her death, his one servant had had matters in her own hands, +and the house grew more lonely and cheerless each year. Mr. Denner's +office was in his garden, and was of brick, like his house, but nearer +the road, and without the softening touch of ivy; it was damp and +mildewed, and one felt instinctively that the ancient law books must have +a film of mould on their battered covers. + +The lawyer's little face had a pinched, wistful look; the curls of his +brown wig were hidden by a tall beaver hat, with the old bell crown and +straight brim; it was rarely smooth, except on Sundays, when Mary brushed +it before he went to church. He took it off now, and passed his hand +thoughtfully over his high, mild forehead, and sighed; then he looked +through one of the narrow windows on either side of the front door, where +the leaded glass was cut into crescents and circles, and fastened with +small brass rosettes; he could see the lamp Mary had left for him, +burning dimly on the hall table, under a dark portrait of some Denner, +long since dead. But he still sat upon what he called his "doorstones;" +the August starlight, and the Lombardy poplars stirring in the soft wind, +and the cricket chirping in the grass, offered more companionship, he +thought, than he would find in his dark, silent library. + +The little gentleman's mind wandered off to the different homes he knew; +they were so pleasant and cheerful. There was always something bright +about the rectory, and how small and cosy Henry Dale's study was. And how +pretty the Woodhouse girls' parlor looked! Mr. Denner was as slow to +recognize the fact that Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were no longer young +as they were themselves. Just now he thought only of the home-life in +their old house, and the comfort, and the peace. What quiet, pleasant +voices the sisters had, and how well Miss Deborah managed, and how +delightfully Miss Ruth painted! How different his own life would have +been if Gertrude Drayton--Ah, well! The little gentleman sighed again, +and then, drawing his big key from his pocket, let himself into the +silent hall, and crept quietly up-stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +It did not take Gifford Woodhouse very long to get settled in Lockhaven. +His office and bedroom constituted his household, and Miss Deborah never +knew that her bags of lavender were not even taken out of the trunk, and +that the hard-featured Irishwoman who "came in by the day" never saw the +paper of directions, written, that she might be able to read it easily, +in Miss Deborah's small, neat hand. + +But Miss Deborah was right in thinking Helen would look after his +comfort, and Gifford soon felt that his real "home" in Lockhaven was at +the parsonage, though he had not time to drop in half as often as the +master and mistress urged him to do. + +He did not tell Helen of that talk with Lois, which had brought a soberer +look to his face than she had ever seen there. But she had noticed it, +and wondered at it, and she felt his reserve, too, in speaking of her +cousin; she even asked herself if he could have cared for Lois? But the +thought was too absurd. "Probably they've quarreled again," she said +regretfully, she never had been able to understand her cousin's +impatience with him. + +Perhaps Gifford thought that she had an intuitive knowledge of the ache +there was in his heart when she talked of Lois, for he was comforted in +a vague way by the sympathetic look which was always on Helen's face when +she spoke to any one who seemed troubled. So he was glad to come to the +parsonage as often as he could, and hear the Ashurst news, and have a cup +of tea with the preacher and his wife. + +John and Helen often walked home with him, though his rooms were quite at +the other end of the town, near the river and the mills; and one night, +as they stood on the shaking bridge, and looked down at the brown water +rushing and plunging against the rotten wooden piers, Helen began to ask +him about Mr. Forsythe. + +"Tell me about him," she said. "You have seen him since he left college. +I only just remember him in Ashurst, though I recall Mrs. Forsythe +perfectly: a tall, sick-looking lady, with an amiably melancholy face, +and three puffs of hair on each side of it." + +"Except that the puffs are white now, she is just the same," Gifford +answered. "As for her son, I don't know anything about him. I believe we +were not very good friends when we were boys, but now--well, he has the +manners of a gentleman." + +"Doesn't that go without saying?" said Helen, laughing. "From the letters +I've had, I fancy he is a good deal at the rectory." + +"Yes," Gifford admitted. "But he is one of those people who make you feel +that though they may have good manners, their grandfathers did not, don't +you know?" + +"But what difference does that make," John asked, "if he is a good man?" + +"Oh, of course, no difference," Gifford replied with an impatient laugh. + +"But what is the attraction in Ashurst, Giff?" Helen said. "How can he +stay there all summer? I should not think he could leave his business." + +"Oh, he is rich." + +"Why, you don't like him!" said Helen, surprised at his tone. + +"I don't know anything about the fellow," the young man answered. "I +haven't seen enough of him to have an opinion one way or the other. +Judging from aunt Ruth's letters, though, I should say Lois liked him, so +I don't think he will be anxious for my approval, or anybody else's." + +Helen looked at him with sudden questioning in her eyes, but they had +reached his house, and John began to speak to him of his plans and of +Lockhaven. + +"I'm afraid you will have only too much to do," he said. "There +is a great deal of quarreling among the mill-owners, and constant +disagreements between the hands." + +"Well," Gifford answered, smiling, and straightening his broad shoulders, +"if there is work to do, I am glad I am here to do it. But I'm not +hopeless for the life it indicates, when you say there's much to be done. +The struggle for personal rights and advantages is really, you know, the +desire for the best, and a factor in civilization. A generation or two +hence, the children of these pushing, aggressive fathers will be fine +men." + +John shook his head sadly. "Ah, but the present evil?" + +But Gifford answered cheerfully, "Oh, well, the present evil is one stage +of development; to live up to the best one knows is morality, and the +preservation of self is the best some of these people know; we can only +wait hopefully for the future." + +"Morality is not enough," John said gently. "Morality never saved a soul, +Mr. Woodhouse." + +But Helen laughed gayly: "John, dear, Gifford doesn't understand your +awful Presbyterian doctrines, and there is no use trying to convert him." + +Gifford smiled, and owned good-naturedly that he was a heathen. "But I +think," he said, "the thing which keeps the town back most is liquor." + +"It is, indeed," John answered, eagerly. "If it could be banished!" + +"High license is the only practical remedy," said Gifford, his face full +of interest; but John's fell. + +"No, no, not that; no compromise with sin will help us. I would have it +impossible to find a drop of liquor in Lockhaven." + +"What would you do in case of sickness?" Gifford asked curiously. + +"I wouldn't have it used." + +"Oh, John, dear," Helen protested, "don't you think that's rather +extreme? You know it's life or death sometimes: a stimulant has to be +used, or a person would die. Suppose I had to have it?" + +His face flushed painfully. "Death is better than sin," he said slowly +and gently; "and you, if you----I don't know, Helen; no one knows his +weakness until temptation comes." His tone was so full of trouble, +Gifford, feeling the sudden tenderness of his own strength, said +good-naturedly, "What do you think of us poor fellows who confess to +a glass of claret at dinner?" + +"And what must he have thought of the dinner-table at the rectory?" Helen +added. + +"I don't think I noticed it," John said simply. "You were there." + +"There, Helen, that's enough to make you sign the pledge!" said Gifford. + +He watched them walking down the street, under the arching ailantus, +their footsteps muffled by the carpet of the fallen blossoms; and there +was a thoughtful look on his face when he went into his office, and, +lighting his lamp, sat down to look over some papers. "How is that going +to come out?" he said to himself. "Neither of those people will amend an +opinion, and Ward is not the man to be satisfied if his wife holds a +belief he thinks wrong." But researches into the case of McHenry _v._ +Coggswell put things so impractical as religious beliefs out of his mind. + +As for John and Helen, they walked toward the parsonage, and Gifford, and +his future, and his views of high license were forgotten, as well as the +sudden pain with which John had heard his wife's careless words about his +"awful doctrines." + +"It is very pleasant to see him so often," John said, "but how good it is +to have you all to myself!" + +Helen gave him a swift, glad look; then their talk drifted into those +sweet remembrances which happy husbands and wives know by heart: what he +thought when he first saw her, how she wondered if he would speak to her. +"And oh, Helen," he said, "I recollect the dress you wore,--how soft and +silky it was, but it never rustled, or gleamed; it rested my eyes just to +look at it." + +A little figure was coming towards them down the deserted street, with a +jug clasped in two small grimy hands. + +"Preacher!" cried a childish voice eagerly, "good-evenin', preacher." + +John stopped and bent down to see who it was, for a tangle of yellow hair +almost hid the little face. + +"Why, it is Molly," he said, in his pleasant voice. "Where have you been, +my child? Oh, yes, I see,--for dad's beer?" + +Molly was smiling at him, proud to be noticed. "Yes, preacher," she +answered, wagging her head. "Good-night, preacher." But they had gone +only a few steps when there was a wail. Turning her head to watch him out +of sight, Molly had tripped, and now all that was left of the beer was a +yellow scum of froth on the dry ground. The jug was unbroken, but the +child could find no comfort in that. + +"I've spilt dad's beer," she said, sobbing, and sinking down in a forlorn +heap on the ground. + +John knelt beside her, and tried to comfort her. "Never mind; we'll go +and tell dad it was an accident." + +But Molly only shook her head. "No," she said, catching her breath, as +she tried to speak, "'t won't do no good. He'll beat me. He's getting +over a drunk, so he wanted his beer, and he'll lick me." + +John looked down sadly at the child for a moment. "I will take you home, +Helen, and then I will go back with Molly." + +"Oh," Helen answered quickly, "let me go with you?" + +"No," John replied, "no, dear. You heard what Molly said? I--I cannot +bear that your eyes should see--what must be seen in Tom Davis's house +to-night. We will go to the parsonage now, and then Molly and I will tell +dad about the beer." He lifted the child gently in his arms, and stooped +again for the pitcher. "Come, Helen," he said, and they went towards the +parsonage. Helen entered reluctantly, but without a protest, and then +stood watching them down the street. The little yellow head had fallen on +John's shoulder, and Molly was almost asleep. + +Tom Davis's house was one of a row near the river. They had been built on +piles, so as to be out of the way of the spring "rise," but the jar and +shock of the great cakes of ice floating under them when the river opened +up had given them an unsteady look, and they leaned and stumbled so that +the stained plastering had broken on the walls, and there were large +cracks by the window frames. The broken steps of Molly's home led up to +a partly open door. One panel had been crushed in in a fight, and the +knob was gone, and the door-posts were dirty and greasy. The narrow +windows were without shutters, and only a dingy green paper shade hid +the room within. + +Molly opened her sleepy eyes long enough to say, "Don't let dad lick me!" + +"No, little Molly," John said, as he went into the small entry, and +knocked at the inner door. "Don't be afraid." + +"Come in," a woman's voice answered. + +Mrs. Davis was sitting by the fireless stove, on which she had placed her +small lamp, and she was trying by its feeble light to do some mending. +Her face had that indifference to its own hopelessness which forbids all +hope for it. She looked up as they entered. + +"Oh, it's the preacher," she said, with a flickering smile about her +fretful lips; and she rose, brushing some lifeless strands of hair behind +her ears, and pulling down her sleeves, which were rolled above her thin +elbows. + +"Molly has had an accident, Mrs. Davis," John explained, putting the +child gently down, and steadying her on her uncertain little feet, until +her eyes were fairly opened. "So I came home with her to say how it +happened." + +"She spilt the beer, I reckon," said Mrs. Davis, glancing at the empty +jug John had put on the table. "Well, 't ain't no great loss. He's +asleep, and won't know nothing about it. He'll have forgot he sent her +by mornin'." She jerked her head towards one side of the room, where her +husband was lying upon the floor. "Go get the preacher a chair, Molly. +Not that one; it's got a leg broke. Oh, you needn't speak low," she +added, as John thanked the child softly; "he won't hear nothing before +to-morrow." + +The lumberman lay in the sodden sleep with which he ended a spree. He had +rolled up his coat for a pillow, and had thrown one arm across his +purple, bloated face. Only the weak, helpless, open mouth could be seen. +His muscular hands were relaxed, and the whole prostrate figure was +pathetic in its unconsciousness of will and grotesque unhumanness. Fate +had been too strong for Tom Davis. His birth and all the circumstances of +his useless life had brought him with resistless certainty to this level, +and his progress in the future could only be an ever-hastening plunge +downward. + +But the preacher did not consider fate when he turned and looked at the +drunken man. A stern look crept over the face which had smiled at Molly +but a moment before. + +"This is the third time," he said, "that this has happened since Tom came +and told me he would try to keep sober. I had hoped the Spirit of God had +touched him." + +"I know," the woman answered, turning the coat she was mending, and +moving the lamp a little to get a better light; "and it's awful hard on +me, so it is; that's where all our money goes. I can't get shoes for the +children's feet, let alone a decent rag to put on my back to wear of a +Sabbath, and come to church. It's hard on me, now, I tell you, Mr. Ward." + +"It is harder on him," John replied. "Think of his immortal soul. Oh, +Mrs. Davis, do you point out to him the future he is preparing for +himself?" + +"Yes," she said, "I'm tellin' him he'll go to hell all the time; but it +don't do no good. Tom's afraid of hell, though; it's the only thing as +ever did keep him straight. After one o' them sermons of yours, I've +known him swear off as long as two months. I ain't been to church this +long time, till last Sabbath; and I was hopin' I'd hear one of that kind, +all about hell, Mr. Ward, so I could tell Tom, but you didn't preach that +way. Not but what it was good, though," she added, with an evident wish +to be polite. + +John's face suddenly flushed. "I--I know I did not, but the love of God +must constrain us, Mrs. Davis, as well as the fear of hell." + +Mrs. Davis sighed. Tom's spiritual condition, which had roused a +momentary interest, was forgotten in the thought of her own misery. +"Well, it's awful hard on me," she repeated with a little tremor in her +weak chin. + +John looked at her with infinite pity in his eyes. "Yes," he said, "hard +on you, because of the eternal suffering which may come to your husband. +Nothing can be more frightful than to think of such a thing for one we +love. Let us try to save him; pray always, pray without ceasing for his +immortal soul, that he may not slight the day of salvation, and repent +when it is too late to find the mercy of God. Oh, the horror of knowing +that the day of grace has gone forever! 'For my spirit shall not always +strive with man.'" + +He went over to the drunken man, and, kneeling down beside him, took one +of the helpless hands in his. Mrs. Davis put down her sewing, and watched +him. + +Perhaps the preacher prayed, as he knelt there, though she could not hear +him; but when he rose and said good-night, she could see his sad eyes +full of trouble which she could not understand, a pity beyond her +comprehension. + +Molly came sidling up to her protector, as he stood a moment in the +doorway, and, taking his hand in hers, stroked it softly. + +"I love you, preacher," she said, "'cause you're good." + +John's face brightened with a sudden smile; the love of little children +was a great joy to him, and the touch of these small hands gave him the +indefinable comfort of hope. God, who had made the sweetness of +childhood, would be merciful to his own children. He would give them +time, He would not withdraw the day of grace; surely Tom Davis's soul +would yet be saved. There was a subtle thought below this of hope that +for Helen, too, the day of grace might be prolonged, but he did not +realize this himself; he did not know that he feared for one moment that +she might not soon accept the truth. He was confident, he thought, of +her, and yet more confident of the constraining power of the truth +itself. + +He looked down at Molly, and put his hand gently on her yellow head. +"Be a good girl, my little Molly;" then, with a quiet blessing upon the +dreary home, he turned away. + +But what Mrs. Davis had said of going to church to hear a sermon on hell, +and her evident disappointment, did not leave his mind. He walked slowly +towards the parsonage, his head bent and his hands clasped behind him, +and a questioning anxiety in his face. "I will use every chance to speak +of the certain punishment of the wicked when I visit my people," he said, +"but not in the pulpit. Not where Helen would hear it--yet. In her frame +of mind, treating the whole question somewhat lightly, not realizing its +awful importance, it would be productive of no good. I will try, little +by little, to show her what to believe, and turn her thoughts to truth. +For the present that is enough, that is wisest." And then his heart went +back to her, and how happy they were. He stopped a moment, looking up at +the stars, and saying, with a breathless awe in his voice, "My God, how +good Thou art, how happy I am!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The little stir which the arrival of the Forsythes made in Ashurst was +delightful. + +"Of course," as Mrs. Dale said, "Arabella Forsythe had not been born +there, and could not be expected to be just like Ashurst people; but it +was something to have a new person to talk to, even if you had to talk +about medicines most of the time." + +Lois Howe enjoyed it, for there were very few young people in Ashurst +that summer; the two Drayton girls had gone away to visit a married +brother, and there were no young men now Gifford had gone. So it was +pleasant to have a person of her own age to talk to, and sometimes to +walk with, though the rector never felt quite sure what his sister would +say to that. However, Mrs. Dale had nothing to say; she shut her eyes to +any impropriety, and even remarked severely to Miss Deborah Woodhouse +that those old-fashioned ideas of a girl's being always under her +mother's eye, were prim and old maidish; "and beside, Lois's mother is +dead," she added, with a sort of triumph in her voice. + +As for Lois, she almost forgot that she had thought Ashurst lonely when +Helen had gone, and Gifford; for of course, in so small a place, every +one counted. She had wondered, sometimes, before the Forsythes came, with +a self-consciousness which was a new experience, if any one thought she +missed Gifford. But her anxiety was groundless,--Ashurst imagination +never rose to any such height; and certainly, if the letters the young +man wrote to her could have been seen, such a thought would not have been +suggested. They were pleasant and friendly; very short, and not very +frequent; mostly of Helen and what she did; there was almost nothing of +himself, and the past, at least as far as a certain night in June was +concerned, was never mentioned. At first this was a relief to Lois, but +by and by came a feeling too negative to be called pique, or even +mortification at having been forgotten; it was rather an intangible +soreness in her memory of him. + +"It is just as Miss Deborah says," she said to herself: "young men always +forget those things. And it is better that they do. Gifford never thinks +of what he said to me, and I'm sure I'm glad he doesn't--but still!" And +then that absurd suggestion of Miss Deborah's about Helen would creep +into her mind; she might banish it, because it was silly and impossible, +yet she did not utterly forget it. However, she really thought very +little about it; the presence of Mrs. Forsythe and her son gave her +plenty of occupation. There was the round of teas and dinners which +Ashurst felt it incumbent to give to a new arrival, and Lois was to have +two new gowns in consequence of so much gayety. + +She spent a good deal of time with Mrs. Forsythe, for the elder lady +needed her, she said. It was not altogether the companionship which +fascinated Lois: the sunny drawing-room of the house the Forsythes had +hired was filled with dainty things, and light, graceful furniture, and +many harmlessly silly novels; there was a general air about it of +belonging to a life she had never seen which made it a pleasure to come +into it. The parlors in Ashurst had such heavy, serious chairs and +tables, she said to herself, and the pictures were all so dark and ugly, +and she was so tired of the carpets. + +So she was very glad when Mrs. Forsythe begged her to come and read +aloud, or fix her flowers, or even stroke her soft white hair when she +had a headache. "Dick may be at home, my dear," Mrs. Forsythe would say +in her deprecating voice, "but you won't mind him?" And soon Lois did not +mind him at all. + +At first she was very shy in the presence of this light-hearted young +fellow, whose indifference to Ashurst opinion was very impressive; but by +and by that wore off, and Mrs. Forsythe's drawing-room echoed with their +young laughter. Lois began to feel with Dick the freedom and friendliness +which had once been only for Gifford. "Why couldn't Giff have been like +this?" she thought; yet she did not say that she and Mr. Forsythe were +like "brother and sister," for she was always conscious of a possibility +in their friendship; but it was enough that Mr. Forsythe was very +interesting, and that that summer, life was very delightful. + +After all, love is frequently a matter of propinquity. + +Dick found himself going often to the rectory, and Lois fell into the +habit of making her plans with the reservation, "In case Mr. Forsythe +calls;" and it generally happened that he did call. "Mother sends her +love, and will Miss Lois come and read to her a little while this +afternoon, if she is not too busy?" or, "Mother returns this dish, and +begs me to thank you for the jelly, and to tell Jean how good it was." + +It was easy for Dick to manufacture errands like these. Dr. Howe began to +think young Forsythe spent the greater part of his time at the rectory. +But this did not trouble him at all; in fact it was a satisfaction that +this lively young man liked the rectory so much. Dr. Howe did not go very +far into the future in his thoughts; he was distinctly flattered in the +present. Of course, if anything came of it (for the rector was not +entirely unworldly), why, it would be all for the best. So he was quite +patient if Lois was not on hand to hunt up a book for him or to fetch +his slippers, and he fell into the habit of spending much time in Mr. +Denner's office, looking over the "Field" and talking of their next +hunting trip. He was not even irritated when, one morning, wishing to +read a letter to his daughter, he had gone all over the house looking +for her, and then had caught a glimpse of her through the trees, down in +the sunny garden, with Dick Forsythe. "I'll just let that letter wait," +he said, and went and stretched himself comfortably on the slippery, +leather-covered sofa in the shaded library, with a paper in his hand and +a satisfied smile on his lips. + +The garden was ablaze with color, and full of all sorts of delicious +scents and sounds. The gay old-fashioned flowers poured a flood of +blossoms through all the borders: hollyhocks stood like rockets against +the sky; sweet-peas and scarlet runners scrambled over the box hedges and +about the rose-bushes; mallows and sweet-williams, asters and zinias and +phlox, crowded close together with a riotous richness of tint; scarlet +and yellow nasturtiums streamed over the ground like molten sunshine; +and, sparkling and glinting through the air, butterflies chased up and +down like blossoms that had escaped from their stems. + +Lois had come out to pick some flowers for the numerous vases and bowls +which it was her delight to keep filled all summer long. She was +bareheaded, and the wind had rumpled the curls around her forehead; the +front of her light blue dress--she wore light blue in a manner which +might have been called daring had it implied the slightest thought--was +caught up to hold her lapful of flowers; a sheaf of roses rested on her +shoulder, and some feathery vines trailed almost to the ground, while in +her left hand, their stems taller than her own head, were two stately +sunflowers, which were to brighten the hall. + +Mr. Forsythe caught sight of her as he closed the gate, and hurried +down the path to help her carry her fragrant load. He had, as usual, a +message to deliver. "Mother sends her love, Miss Lois, and says she isn't +well enough to go and drive this afternoon; but she'll be glad to go +to-morrow, if you'll take her?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" Lois cried, in her impetuous voice. "But I'm sorry +she's ill to-day." + +Dick gave the slightest possible shrug of his square shoulders. "Oh, I +guess she's all right," he said. "It amuses her. But won't you give me +some flowers to take home to her?" + +Of course Lois was delighted to do it, but Dick insisted that she should +first put those she had already gathered in water, and then get some +fresh ones for his mother. "You see I'm very particular that she should +have the best;" then they both laughed. Now mutual laughter at small +jokes brings about a very friendly feeling. + +They went up to the side porch, where it was shady, and Lois and Sally +brought out all the vases and dishes which could be made to hold flowers, +and put them in a row on the top step. Then Dick brought a big pitcher of +fresh, cold water from the spring, and Lois went for the garden scissors +to clip off the long stems; and at last they were ready to go to work, +the sweet confusion of flowers on the steps between them, and Max sitting +gravely at Lois's elbow as chaperon. + +The rector heard their voices and the frequent shouts of laughter, and +began to think he must bestir himself; Mr. Forsythe should see that +Ashurst young women were under the constant over-sight of their parents; +but he yawned once or twice, and thought how comfortable the cool leather +of the lounge was, and had another little doze before he went out to the +porch with the open letter in his hand. + +Dick had his hat full of white, and pink, and wine-colored hollyhocks, +which he had stripped from their stems, and was about to put in a shallow +dish, so he did not rise, but said "Hello!" in answer to the rector's +"Good-morning," and smiled brightly up at him. It was the charm of this +smile which made the older people in Ashurst forget that he treated +them with very little reverence. + +"Lois," her father said, "I have a letter from Helen; do you want to send +any message when I answer it? Mr. Forsythe will excuse you if you read +it." + +"Why, of course," Dick replied. "I feel almost as though I knew Mrs. +Ward, Miss Lois has talked so much about her." + +"How funny to hear her called 'Mrs. Ward!'" Lois said, taking the letter +from her father's hand. + +"I should think she'd hate Lockhaven," Dick went on. "I was there once +for a day or two. It is a poor little place; lots of poverty among the +hands. And it is awfully unpleasant to see that sort of thing. I've heard +fellows say they enjoyed a good dinner more if they saw some poor beggar +going without. Now, I don't feel that way. I don't like to see such +things; they distress me, and I don't forget them." + +Lois, reading Helen's letter, which was full of grief for the helpless +trouble she saw in Lockhaven, thought that Mr. Forsythe had a very tender +heart. Helen was questioning the meaning of the suffering about her; +already the problem as old as life itself confronted her, and she asked, +Why? + +Dr. Howe had noticed this tendency in some of her later letters, and +scarcely knew whether to be annoyed or amused by it. "Now what in the +world," he said, as Lois handed back the letter,--"what in the world does +the child mean by asking me if I don't think--stay, where is that +sentence?" The rector fumbled for his glasses, and, with his lower lip +thrust out, and his gray eyebrows gathered into a frown, glanced up and +down the pages. "Ah, yes, here: 'Do you not think,' she says, 'that the +presence in the world of suffering which cannot produce character, +irresponsible suffering, so to speak, makes it hard to believe in the +personal care of God?' It's perfect nonsense for Helen to talk in that +way! What does she know about 'character' and 'irresponsible suffering'? +I shall tell her to mend her husband's stockings, and not bother her +little head with theological questions that are too big for her." + +"Yes, sir," Lois answered, carefully snipping off the thorns on the +stem of a rose before she plunged it down into the water in the big +punch-bowl; "but people cannot help just wondering sometimes." + +"Now, Lois, don't you begin to talk that way," the rector cried +impatiently; "one in a family is enough!" + +"Well," said Dick Forsythe gayly, "what's the good of bothering about +things you can't understand?" + +"Exactly," the rector answered. "Be good! if we occupy our minds with +conduct, we won't have room for speculation, which never made a soul +better or happier, anyhow. Yes, it's all nonsense, and I shall tell Helen +so; there is too much tendency among young people to talk about things +they don't understand, and it results in a superficial, skin-deep sort of +skepticism that I despise! Besides," he added, laughing and knocking his +glasses off, "what is the good of having a minister for a husband? She +ought to ask him her theological questions." + +"Well, now, you know, father," Lois said, "Helen isn't the sort of woman +to be content just to step into the print her husband's foot has made. +She'll choose what she thinks is solid ground for herself. And she isn't +superficial." + +"Oh, no, of course not," the rector began, relenting. "I didn't mean to +be hard on the child. But she mustn't be foolish. I don't want her to +make herself unhappy by getting unsettled in her belief, and that is what +this sort of questioning results in. But I didn't come out to scold +Helen; it just occurred to me that it might be a good thing to send her +that twenty-five dollars I meant to give to domestic missions, and let +her use it for some of her poor people. What?" + +"Oh, yes, do!" Lois replied. + +"Let me send twenty-five dollars, too!" Dick cried, whipping out a +check-book. + +Dr. Howe protested, but Mr. Forsythe insisted that it was a great +pleasure. "Don't you see," he explained, smiling, "if Mrs. Ward will +spend some money for me, it will make my conscience easy for a month; +for, to tell you the truth, doctor, I don't think about poor people any +more than I can help; it's too unpleasant. I'm afraid I'm very selfish." + +This was said with such a good-natured look, Dr. Howe could only smile +indulgently. "Ah, well, you're young, and I'm sure your twenty-five +dollars for Helen's poor people will cover a multitude of sins. I fancy +you are not quite so bad as you would have us believe." + +Lois watched him draw his check, and was divided between admiration and +an undefined dissatisfaction with herself for feeling admiration for +what really meant so little. + +"Thank you very much," the rector said heartily. + +"Oh, you're welcome, I'm sure," answered the other. + +Dr. Howe folded the check away in a battered leather pocket-book, shiny +on the sides and ragged about the corners, and overflowing with odds and +ends of memoranda and newspaper clippings; a row of fish-hooks was +fastened into the flap, and he stopped to adjust these before he went +into the house to answer Helen's letter. + +He snubbed her good-naturedly, telling her not to worry about things +too great for her, but beneath his consciousness there lurked a little +discomfort, or even irritation. Duties which seem dead and buried, and +forgotten, are avenged by the sting of memory. In the rector's days at +the theological school, he had himself known those doubts which may lead +to despair, or to a wider and unflinching gaze into the mysteries of +light. But Archibald Howe reached neither one condition nor the other. +He questioned many things; he even knew the heartache which the very fear +of losing faith gives. But the way was too hard, and the toil and anguish +of the soul too great; he turned back into the familiar paths of the +religion he knew and loved; and doubt grew vague, not in assured belief, +but in the plain duties of life. After a little while, he almost forgot +that he ever had doubted. Only now and then, when some questioning soul +came to him, would he realize that he could not help it by his own +experience, only by a formula,--a text-book spirituality; then he would +remember, and promise himself that the day should come when he would face +uncertainty and know what he believed. But it was continually eluding +him, and being put off; he could not bear to run the risk of disturbing +the faith of others; life was too full; he had not the time for study and +research,--and perhaps it would all end in deeper darkness. Better be +content with what light he had. So duty was neglected, and his easy, +tranquil life flowed on. + +Writing his careless rebuke to Helen brought this past unpleasantly +before his mind; he was glad when he had sanded his paper and thrust the +folded letter into its envelope, and could forget once more. + +Dick Forsythe had prolonged his call by being very careful what flowers +were picked for his mother, and he and Lois wandered over the whole +garden, searching for the most perfect roses, before he acknowledged that +he was content. When they parted at the iron gate, he was more in love +than ever, and Lois walked back to the rectory, thinking with a vague +dissatisfaction how much she would miss the Forsythes when they left +Ashurst. + +But Mr. Forsythe's was not the sort of love which demanded solitude or +silence, so that when he saw Mr. Dale coming from Mr. Denner's little law +office, he made haste to join him. Conversation of any sort, and with any +person, was a necessity to this young man, and Mr. Dale was better than +no one. + +"I've just been to the rectory," he said, as he reached the older man's +side. + +"I suppose so," Mr. Dale answered shortly. Perhaps he was the only person +in Ashurst who was not blinded by the glamour of that World which Mr. +Forsythe represented, and who realized the nature of the young man +himself. Dick's superficiality was a constant irritation to Mr. Dale, who +missed in him that deference for the opinions of older people which has +its roots in the past, in the training of fathers and mothers in courtesy +and gentleness, and which blossoms in perfection in the third or fourth +generation. + +There was nothing in his voice to encourage Dick to talk about Lois Howe, +so he wisely turned the conversation, but wished he had a more congenial +companion. Mr. Dale walked with hands behind him and shoulders bent +forward; his wide-brimmed felt hat was pulled down over his long soft +locks of white hair, and hid the expression of his face. + +So Dick rattled on in his light, happy voice, talking of everything or +nothing, as his hearer might happen to consider it, until suddenly Mr. +Dale's attention was caught: Dick began to speak of John Ward. "I thought +I'd seen him," he was saying. "The name was familiar, and then when Miss +Lois described his looks, and told me where he studied for the ministry, +I felt sure of it. If it is the same man, he must be a queer fellow." + +"Why?" asked Mr. Dale. He did not know John Ward very well, and had no +particular feeling about him one way or the other; but people interested +Mr. Dale, and he had meant some time to study this man with the same +impersonal and kindly curiosity with which he would have examined a new +bug in his collection. + +"Because, if he's the man I think he is,--and I guess there is no doubt +about it--thin, dark, and abstracted-looking, named Ward, and studying at +the Western Theological Seminary that year,--I saw him do a thing--well, +I never knew any other man who would have done it!" + +"What was it, sir?" said Mr. Dale, turning his mild blue eyes upon the +young man, and regarding him with an unusual amount of interest. + +Dick laughed. "Why," he answered, "I saw that man,--there were a lot of +us fellows standing on the steps of one of the hotels; it was the busiest +street and the busiest time of the day, and there was a woman coming +along, drunk as a lord. Jove! you ought to have seen her walk! She +couldn't walk,--that was about the truth of it; and she had a miserable +yelling brat in her arms. It seemed as though she'd fall half a dozen +times. Well, while we were standing there, I saw that man coming down the +street. I didn't know him then,--somebody told me his name, afterwards. I +give you my word, sir, when he saw that woman, he stood still one minute, +as though he was thunderstruck by the sight of her,--not hesitating, you +know, but just amazed to see a woman looking like that,--and then he went +right up to her, and took that dirty, screeching child out of her arms; +and then, I'm damned if he didn't give her his arm and walk down the +street with her!" + +Mr. Dale felt the shock of it. "Ah!" he said, with a quick indrawn +breath. + +"Yes," continued Dick, who enjoyed telling a good story, "he walked down +that crowded street with that drunken, painted creature on his arm. I +suppose he thought she'd fall, and hurt herself and the child. Naturally +everybody looked at him, but I don't believe he even saw them. We stood +there and watched them out of sight--and--but of course you know how +fellows talk! Though so long as he was a _minister_"--Dick grinned +significantly, and looked at Mr. Dale for an answer; but there was none. + +Suddenly the old man stood still and gravely lifted his hat: "He's a good +man," he said, and then trudged on again, with his head bent and his +hands clasped behind him. + +Mr. Forsythe looked at him, and whistled. "Jove!" he exclaimed, "it +doesn't strike you as it did Dr. Howe. I told him, and he said, 'Bless my +soul, hadn't the man sense enough to call a policeman?'" + +But Mr. Dale had nothing more to say. The picture of John Ward, walking +through the crowded street with the woman who was a sinner upheld by his +strong and tender arm, was not forgotten; and when Dick had left him, and +he had lighted his slender silver pipe in the quiet of his basement +study, he said again, "He's a good man." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +It was one of those deliciously cold evenings in early autumn. All day +long the sparkling sunshine-scented air had held an exhilaration like +wine, but now night had folded a thin mist across the hills, though the +clear darkness of the upper sky was filled with the keen white light of +innumerable stars. + +A fire in the open grate in John Ward's study was pure luxury, for the +room did not really need the warmth. It was of that soft coal which +people in the Middle States burn in happy indifference to its dust-making +qualities, because of its charm of sudden-puffing flames, which burst +from the bubbling blackness with a singing noise, like the explosion of +an oak-gall stepped on unawares in the woods. + +It had been a busy day for John, ending with the weekly prayer-meeting; +and to sit now in front of the glowing fire, with Helen beside him, was a +well-earned rest. + +In the afternoon he had taken a dozen of the village children to find a +swamp whose borders were fringed with gentians, which seemed to have +caught the color of the wind-swept October skies. He would not let Helen +go. "The walk would tire you," he said; but he himself seemed to know no +weariness, though most of the time he carried one of the children, and +was continually lifting them over rough places, and picking their flowers +and ferns for them. + +Helen had seen them start, and watched them as they tramped over the +short, crisp grass of an upland pasture, and she could just distinguish +the words of a hymn they sung, John's deep, sweet tenor leading their +quavering treble:-- + + "His loving kindness, loving kindness, + His loving kindness, oh, how free!" + +After they had gathered gentians to their hearts' content, they crowded +about John and begged for a story, for that was always the crowning bliss +of an afternoon with the preacher. But, though prefaced with the remark +that they must remember it was only a story and not at all true, their +enjoyment of gnomes and fairies, of wondrous palaces built of shining +white clouds, with stars for lamps, was never lessened. True, there was +generally a moral, but in his great desire to make it attractive John +often concealed it, and was never quite sure that his stories did the +good he intended. But they did good in another way; the children loved +him, as most of them loved nothing else in their meagre, hungry little +lives. And he loved them; they stirred the depths of tenderness in him. +What did the future hold for them? Misery, perhaps, and surely sin, for +what hope was there of purity and holiness in such homes as theirs? And +the horror of that further future, the sure eternity which follows sin, +cast a dreary shadow over them, and lent a suppressed passion to the +fervor with which he tried to win their love, that he might lead them to +righteousness. + +But it was his gentleness, and a childlike simplicity which they +themselves must early lose, which attracted and charmed the children, and +made them happy and contented if they could but be with the preacher. + +They had left him reluctantly at the parsonage gate, clamoring for +another afternoon, which was gladly promised. Then John had had a quiet +half hour for further thought upon his evening talk to his people, which +had been prepared the day before. Helen had laughed at the amount of +study given to every address. "I wish you could see how uncle Archie +manages his sermons." + +"He has not the sort of people I have," John said, with kindly excuse. +"Yet think of the importance of speaking to any one in Christ's name! We +preach for eternity, Helen,--for eternity." + +She looked at him gravely. "John," she answered, "you take these things +too much to heart. It is not wise, dear." + +He hesitated, and then said gently, "These are the only things to take to +heart. We only live to prepare for that other life. Can we be too earnest +dear, when eternity hangs upon the use we make of time? That thought is a +continual spur to make me eager for my duty to my people." + +"Oh, I know it," Helen responded, laying her head upon his shoulder; "but +don't work too hard." + +He put his arms about her, and the impulse which had been strong a moment +before to speak to her of her own soul was forgotten. + +These prayer-meetings were trials to Helen Ward. She missed the stately +Liturgy of her own church. "I don't like to hear Elder Dean give the +Almighty so much miscellaneous information," she said, half laughing, yet +quite in earnest. But she always went, for at least there was the +pleasure of walking home with John. Beside, practice had made it possible +for her to hear without heeding, and in that way she escaped a great deal +of annoyance. + +This especial Wednesday evening, however, she had not been able to close +her ears to all that was said. She had grown restless, and looked about +the narrow whitewashed room where the lecture was given, and longed for +the reverence of the starlit silence outside. + +John had begun the meeting by a short prayer, simple and direct as a +child's request to his father, and after a hymn he said a few words on +the text he had chosen. Then the meeting was open, and to some of the +things said, Helen listened with indignant disapproval. As they walked +home, rejoicing in the fresh cold air and the sound of their quick +footsteps on the frosty ground, she made up her mind what she meant to +do, but she did not speak of it until they were by their own fireside. + +The room was full of soft half-darkness; shadows leaped out of the +corners, and chased the gleams of firelight; the tall clock ticked slowly +in the corner, and on the hearts of these two fell that content with life +and each other which is best expressed by silence. + +John sat at his wife's feet; his tired head was upon her knee, and he +could look up into her restful face, while he held one of her hands +across his lips. It was a good face to see: her clear brown eyes were +large and full, with heavy lids which drooped a little at the outer +corners, giving a look of questioning sincerity, which does not often +outlast childhood. Her bronze-brown hair was knotted low on her neck, and +rippled a little over a smooth white forehead. + +John had begun to stroke her hand softly, holding it up to shield his +eyes from the firelight, and twisting the plain band of her wedding ring +about. + +"What a dear hand," he said; "how strong and firm it is!" + +"It is large, at least," she answered, smiling. He measured it against +his own gaunt thin hand, which always had a nervous thrill in the pale +fingers. "You see, they are about the same size, but mine is certainly +much whiter. Just look at that ink-stain; that means you write too much. +I don't like you to be so tired in the evenings, John." + +"You rest me," he said, looking up into her face. "It is a rest even to +sit here beside you. Do you know, Helen," he went on, after a moment's +pause, "if I were in any pain, I mean any physical extremity, I would +have strength to bear it if I could hold your hand; it is so strong and +steady." + +She lifted her hand, and looked at it with amused curiosity, turning it +about, "to get the best light upon it." + +"I am in earnest," John said, smiling. "It is the visible expression of +the strength you are to me. With your help I could endure any pain. I +wonder," he went on, in a lower voice, as though thinking aloud, "if this +strength of yours could inspire me to bear the worst pain there could be +for me,--I mean if I had to make you suffer in any way?" + +Helen looked down at him, surprised, not quite understanding. + +"Suppose," he said,--"of course one can suppose anything,--that for your +best good I had to make you suffer: could I, do you think?" + +"I hope so," she answered gravely; "I hope I should give you strength to +do it." + +They fell again into their contented silence, watching the firelight, and +thinking tenderly each of the other. But at last Helen roused herself +from her reverie with a long, pleasant sigh of entire peace and comfort. + +"John, do you know, I have reached a conclusion? I'm not going to +prayer-meeting any more." + +John started. "Why, Helen!" he said, a thrill of pain in his voice. + +But Helen was not at all troubled. "No, dear. Feeling deeply as I do +about certain things, it is worse than useless for me to go and hear +Elder Dean or old Mr. Smith; they either annoy me or amuse me, and I +don't know which is worse. I have heard Mr. Smith thank the Lord that we +are not among the pale and sheeted nations of the dead, ever since I came +to Lockhaven. And Elder Dean's pictures of the eternal torments of the +damned, 'souls wreathing in sulphurous flames' (those were his words +to-night, John!), and then praising God for his justice (his justice!) +right afterwards,--I cannot stand it, dear. I do not believe in hell, +such a hell, and so it is absurd to go and listen to such things. But I +won't miss my walk with you," she added, "for I will come and meet you +every Wednesday evening, and we'll come home together." + +John had risen as she talked, and stood leaning against the mantel, his +face hidden by his hand. Her lightly spoken words had come with such a +shock, the blood leaped back to his heart, and for a moment he could not +speak. He had never allowed himself to realize that her indifference to +doctrine was positive unbelief; had his neglect encouraged her ignorance +to grow into this? + +At last he said very gently, "But, dearest, I believe in hell." + +"I know it," she answered, no longer carelessly, but still smiling, +"but never mind. I mean, it does not make any difference to me what you +believe. I wouldn't care if you were a Mohammedan, John, if it helped you +to be good and happy. I think that different people have different +religious necessities. One man is born a Roman Catholic, for instance, +though his father and mother may be the sternest Protestants. He cannot +help it; it is his nature! And you"--she looked up at him with infinite +tenderness in her brown eyes,--"you were born a Presbyterian, dear; you +can't help it. Perhaps you need the sternness and the horror of some of +the doctrines as a balance for your gentleness. I never knew any one as +gentle as you, John." + +He came and knelt down beside her, holding her face between his hands, +and looking into her clear eyes. "Helen," he said, "I have wanted to +speak to you of this; I have wanted to show you the truth. You will not +say you cannot believe in hell (in justice, Helen) when I prove"-- + +"Don't prove," she interrupted him, putting her hand softly across his +lips, "don't let us argue. Oh, a theological argument seems to me +sacrilege, and dogma can never be an antidote for doubt, John. I must +believe what my own soul asserts, or I am untrue to myself. I must begin +with that truth, even if it keeps me on the outskirts of the great Truth. +Don't you think so, dear? And I do not believe in hell. Now that is +final, John." + +She smiled brightly into his troubled face, and, seeing his anxiety, +hastened to save him further pain in the future. "Do not let us ever +discuss these things. After all, doctrine is of so little importance, and +argument never can result in conviction to either of us, for belief is a +matter of temperament, and I do so dislike it. It really distresses me, +John." + +"But, dearest," he said, "to deliberately turn away from the search for +truth is spiritual suicide." + +"Oh, you misunderstand me," she replied quickly. "Of course one's soul +always seeks for truth, but to argue, to discuss details, which after all +are of no possible importance, no more part of the eternal verities than +a man's--buttons are of his character! Now, remember," with smiling +severity, "never again!" She laid her head down on his shoulder. "We are +so happy, John, so happy; why should we disturb the peace of life? Never +mind what we think on such matters; we have each other, dear!" + +He was silenced; with her clinging arm about him, and her tender eyes +looking into his, he could not argue; he was the lover, not the preacher. + +He kissed her between her level brows; it was easy to forget his duty! +Yet his conscience protested faintly. "If you would only let me tell +you"-- + +"Not just now," she said, and Helen's voice was a caress. "Do you +remember how, that first time we saw each other, you talked of belief?" +It was so natural to drift into reminiscence, kneeling there in the +firelight by her side, John almost forgot how the talk had begun, and +neither of them gave a thought to the lateness of the hour, until they +were roused by a quick step on the path, and heard the little gate pushed +hurriedly open, shutting again with a bang. + +"Why, that's Gifford Woodhouse," John said, leaning forward to give the +fire that inevitable poke with which the coming guest is welcomed. + +"No, it can't be Giff," Helen answered, listening; "he always whistles." + +But it was Gifford. The quick-leaping flame lighted his face as he +entered, and Helen saw that, instead of its usual tranquil good-nature, +there was a worried look. + +"I'm afraid I'm disturbing you," he said, as they both rose to welcome +him, and there was the little confusion of lighting the lamp and drawing +up a chair. "Haven't I interrupted you?" + +"Yes," John replied simply, "but it is well you did. I have some writing +I must do to-night, and I had forgotten it. You and Helen will excuse me +if I leave you a little while?" + +Both the others protested: Gifford that he was driving Mr. Ward from his +own fireside, and Helen that it was too late for work. + +"No, you are not driving me away. My papers are up-stairs. I will see you +again," he added, turning to Gifford; and then he closed the door, and +they heard his step in the room above. + +The interruption had brought him back to real life. He left the joy which +befogged his conscience, and felt again that chill and shock which +Helen's words had given him, and that sudden pang of remorse for a +neglected duty; he wanted to be alone, and to face his own thoughts. His +writing did not detain him long, and afterwards he paced the chilly room, +struggling to see his duty through his love. But in that half hour +up-stairs he reached no new conclusion. Helen's antipathy to doctrine was +so marked, it was, as she said, useless to begin discussion; and it would +be worse than useless to urge her to come to prayer-meeting, if she did +not want to; it would only make her antagonistic to the truth. She was +not ready for the strong meat of the Word, which was certainly what his +elders fed to hungry souls at prayer-meetings. John did not know that +there was any reluctance in his own mind to disturb their harmony and +peace by argument; he simply failed to recognize his own motives; the +reasons he gave himself were all secondary. + +"I ought not to have come so late," Gifford said, "and it is a shame to +disturb Mr. Ward, but I did want to see you so much, Helen!" + +Helen's thoughts were following her husband, and it was an effort to +bring them back to Gifford and his interests, but she turned her tranquil +face to him with a gracious gentleness which never left her. "He will +come back again," she said, "and he will be glad to have this writing off +his mind to-night. I was only afraid he might take cold; you know he has +a stubborn little cough. Why did you want to see me, Giff?" + +She took some knitting from her work-table, and, shaking out its fleecy +softness, began to work, the big wooden needles making a velvety sound as +they rubbed together. Gifford was opposite her, his hands thrust moodily +into his pockets, his feet stretched straight out, and his head sunk on +his breast. But he did not look as though he were resting; an intent +anxiety seemed to pervade his big frame, and Helen could not fail to +observe it. She glanced at him, as he sat frowning into the fire, but he +did not notice her. + +"Something troubles you, Gifford." + +He started. "Yes," he said. He changed his position, leaning his elbows +on his knees, and propping his chin on his fists, and still scowling at +the fire. "Yes, I came to speak to you about it." + +"I wish you would," Helen answered. But Gifford found it difficult to +begin. + +"I've had a letter from aunt Ruth to-day," he said at last, "and it has +bothered me. I don't know how to tell you, exactly; you will think it's +none of my business." + +"Is there anything wrong at the rectory?" Helen asked, putting down her +work, and drawing a quick breath. + +"Oh, no, no, of course not," answered Gifford, "nothing like that. The +fact is, Helen--the fact is--well, plainly, aunt Ruth thinks that that +young Forsythe is in love with Lois." + +Gifford's manner, as he spoke, told Helen what she had only surmised +before, and she was betrayed into an involuntary expression of sympathy. + +"Oh," cried the young man, with an impatient gesture and a sudden flush +tingling across his face, "you misunderstand me. I haven't come to whine +about myself, or anything like that. I'm not jealous; for Heaven's sake, +don't think I am such a cur as to be jealous! If that man was worthy of +Lois, I--why, I'd be the first one to rejoice that she was happy. I want +Lois to be happy, from my soul! I hope you believe me, Helen?" + +"I believe anything you tell me," she answered gently, "but I don't quite +understand how you feel about Mr. Forsythe; every one speaks so highly of +him. Even aunt Deely has only pleasant things to say of 'young Forsythe,' +as she calls him." + +Gifford left his chair, and began to walk about the room, his hands +grasping the lapels of his coat, and his head thrown back in a troubled +sort of impatience. "That's just it," he said; "in this very letter aunt +Ruth is enthusiastic, and I can't tell you anything tangible against him, +only I don't like him, Helen. He's a puppy,--that's the amount of it. And +I thought--I just thought--I'd come and ask you if you supposed--if +you--of course I've no business to ask any question--but if you +thought"-- + +But Helen had understood his vague inquiry, "I should think," she said +"you would know that if he is what you call a _puppy_ Lois couldn't care +for him." + +Gifford sat down, and took her ball of wool, beginning nervously to +unwind it, and then wind it up again. + +"Perhaps she wouldn't see it," he said tentatively. + +"Ah, you don't trust her!" Helen cried brightly, "or you would not say +that. (Don't tie my worsted into knots!) When you write to Lois, why +don't you frankly say what you think of him?" + +"Oh, I could not," he responded quickly. "Don't you see, Helen, I'm a +young fellow myself, and--and you know Lois did not care for me when +I--told her. And if I said anything now, it would only mean that I was +jealous, that I wanted her myself. Whereas, I give you my word," striking +his fist sharply on his knee, "if he was fit for her, I'd rejoice; yes, +I--I love her so much that if I saw her happy with any other man (who was +worthy of her!) I'd be glad!" + +Helen looked doubtful, but did not discuss that; she ran her hand along +her needle, and gave her elastic work a pull. "Tell me more about him," +she said. + +But Gifford had not much to tell; it was only his vague distrust of the +man, which it was difficult to put into words. "A good out-and-out sinner +one can stand," he ended; "but all I saw of this Forsythe at the club and +about town only made me set him down as a small man, a--a puppy, as I +said. And I thought I'd talk to you about it, because, when you write to +Lois, you might just hint, you know." + +But Helen shook her head. "No, Gifford, that never does any good at all. +And I do not believe it is needed. The only thing to do now is to trust +Lois. I have no anxiety about her; if he is what you say, her own ideal +will protect her. Ah, Giff, I'm disappointed in you. I shouldn't have +thought you could doubt Lois." + +"I don't!" he cried, "only I am so afraid!" + +"But you shouldn't be afraid," Helen said, smiling; "a girl like Lois +couldn't love a man who was not good and noble. Perhaps, Gifford," she +ventured, after a moment's pause,--"perhaps it will be all right for you, +some time." + +"No, no," he answered, "I don't dare to think of it." + +Helen might have given him more courage, but John came in, and Gifford +realized that it was very late. "Helen has scolded me, Mr. Ward," he +said, "and it has done me good." + +John turned and looked at her. "Can she scold?" he said. And when Gifford +glanced back, as he went down the street, he saw them still standing in +the doorway in the starlight; Helen leaning back a little against John's +arm, so that she might see his face. The clear warm pallor of her cheek +glowed faintly in the frosty air. + +Gifford sighed as he walked on. "They are very happy," he thought. "Well, +that sort of happiness may never be for me, but it is something to love a +good woman. I have got that in my life, anyhow." + +Helen's confidence in her cousin's instinct might perhaps have been +shaken had she known what pleasure Lois found in the companionship of Mr. +Forsythe, and how that pleasure was encouraged by all her friends. That +very evening, while Gifford was pouring his anxieties into her ear, Lois +was listening to Dick's pictures of the gayeties of social life; the +"jolly times," as he expressed it, which she had never known. + +Dr. Howe was reading, with an indignant exclamation occasionally, a +scathing review of an action of his political candidate, and his big +newspaper hid the two young people by the fire, so that he quite forgot +them. Max seemed to feel that the responsibility of propriety rested upon +him, and he sat with his head on Lois's knee, and his drowsy eyes +blinking at Mr. Forsythe. His mistress pulled his silky ears gently, +or knotted them behind his head, giving him a curiously astonished and +grieved look, as though he felt she trifled with his dignity; yet he did +not move his head, but watched, with no affection in his soft brown eyes, +the young man who talked so eagerly to Lois. + +"That brute hates me," said Mr. Forsythe, "and yet I took the trouble to +bring him a biscuit to-day. Talk of gratitude and affection in animals. +They don't know what it means!" + +"Max loves me," Lois answered, taking the setter's head between her +hands. + +"Ah, well, that's different," cried Forsythe; "of course he does. I'd +like to know how he could help it. He wouldn't be fit to live, if he +didn't." + +Lois raised the hand-screen she held, so that Dick could only see the +curls about her forehead and one small curve of her ear. "How hot the +fire is!" she said. + +Dr. Howe folded his newspaper with much crackling and widely opened arms. +"Don't sit so near it. In my young days, the children were never allowed +to come any nearer the fireplace than the outside of the hearth-rug." +Then he began to read again, muttering, "Confound that reporter!" + +Dick glanced at him, and then he said, in a low voice, "Max loves you +because you are so kind to him, Miss Lois; it is worth while to be a dog +to have you"-- + +"Give him bones?" Lois cried hurriedly. "Yes, it is too hot in here, +father; don't you think so; don't you want me to open the window?" + +Dr. Howe looked up, surprised. "If you want to, child," he said. "Dear +me, I'm afraid I have not been very entertaining, Mr. Forsythe. What do +you think of this attack on our candidate? Contemptible, isn't it? What? +I have no respect for any one who can think it anything but abominable +and outrageous." + +"It's scandalous!" Dick answered,--and then in a smiling whisper to Lois, +he added, "I'm afraid to tell the doctor I'm a Democrat." + +But when Lois was quite alone that night, she found herself smiling in +the darkness, and a thrill of pride made her cheeks hotter than the fire +had done. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"Yes," said Miss Deborah Woodhouse, as she stood in the doorway of Miss +Ruth's studio, "yes, we must give a dinner party, sister. It is certainly +the proper thing to do, now that the Forsythes are going back to the +city. It is to be expected of us, sister." + +"Well, I don't know that it is expected of us," said Miss Ruth, who never +agreed too readily to any suggestion of Miss Deborah's; "but I think we +ought to do it. I meant to have spoken to you about it." + +Miss Ruth was washing some brushes, a task her soul abhorred, for it +was almost impossible to avoid some stain upon her apron or her hands; +though, to guard against the latter, she wore gloves. The corners of Miss +Ruth's mouth were drawn down and her eyebrows lifted up, and her whole +face was a protest against her work. On her easel was a canvas, where she +had begun a sketch purporting to be apple-blossoms. + +The studio was dark, for a mist of November rain blurred all the low gray +sky. The wide southwest window, which ran the length of the woodshed +(this part of which was devoted to art), was streaming with water, and +though the dotted muslin curtain was pushed as far back as it would go, +very little light struggled into the room. The dim engravings of nymphs +and satyrs, in tarnished frames, which had been hung here to make room +in the house for Miss Ruth's own productions, could scarcely be +distinguished in the gloom, and though the artist wore her glasses she +could not see to work. + +So she had pushed back her easel, and began to make things tidy for +Sunday. Any sign of disorder would have greatly distressed Miss Ruth. +Even her paint-tubes were kept scrupulously bright and clean, and nothing +was ever out of place. Perhaps this made the room in the woodshed a +little dreary, certainly it looked so now to Miss Deborah, standing in +the doorway, and seeing the gaunt whitewashed walls, the bare rafters, +and the sweeping rain against the window. + +"Do, sister," she entreated, "come into the house, and let us arrange +about the dinner." + +"No," said Miss Ruth, sighing, "I must wash these brushes." + +"Why not let Sarah do it?" asked the other, stepping over a little stream +of water which had forced itself under the threshold. + +"Now, surely, sister," said Miss Ruth pettishly, "you know Sarah would +get the color on the handles. But there! I suppose you don't know how +artistic people feel about such things." She stopped long enough to take +off her gloves and tie the strings of her long white apron a little +tighter about her trim waist; then she went to work again. + +"No, I suppose I don't understand," Miss Deborah acknowledged; "but never +mind, we can talk here, only it is a little damp. What do you think of +asking them for Thursday? It is a good day for a dinner party. You are +well over the washing and ironing, you know, and you have Wednesday for +the jellies and creams, besides a good two hours in the afternoon to get +out the best china and see to the silver. Friday is for cleaning up and +putting things away, because Saturday one is always busy getting ready +for Sunday." + +Miss Ruth demurred. "I should rather have it on a Friday." + +"Well, you don't know anything about the housekeeping part of it," said +Miss Deborah, promptly. "And I don't believe William Denner would want +to come then; you know he is quite superstitious about Friday. Beside, it +is not convenient for me," she added, settling the matter once for all. + +"Oh, I've no objection to Thursday," said Miss Ruth. "I don't know but +that I prefer it. Yes, we will have it on Thursday." Having thus asserted +herself, Miss Ruth began to put away her paints and cover her canvas. + +"It is a pity the whist was put off to-night," said Miss Deborah; "we +could have arranged it at the rectory. But if I see Adele Dale to-morrow, +I'll tell her." + +"I beg," said Miss Ruth quickly, "that you'll do nothing of the sort." + +"What!" exclaimed Miss Deborah. + +"We will write the invitations, if you please," said Miss Ruth loftily. + +"Fiddlesticks!" retorted the other. "We'll write the Forsythes, of +course, but the people at the rectory and Adele Dale?--nonsense!" + +"It is not nonsense," Miss Ruth answered; "it is _proper_, and it must be +done. I understand these things, Deborah; you are so taken up with your +cooking, you cannot really be expected to know. When you invite city +people to a formal dinner, everything must be done decently and in order. +It is not like asking the rector and Adele to drop in to tea any time." + +"Fudge!" responded Miss Deborah. + +A faint color began to show in Miss Ruth's faded cheek, and she set her +lips firmly. "The invitations should be written," she said. + +It was settled, as usual, by each sister doing exactly as she pleased. +Miss Deborah gave her invitations by word of mouth the next day, standing +in the rain, under a dripping umbrella, by the church porch, while on +Monday each of the desired guests received a formal note in Miss Ruth's +precise and delicate hand, containing the compliments of the Misses +Woodhouse, and a request for the honor of their company at dinner on +Thursday, November 12th, at half past six o'clock. + +A compromise had been effected about the hour. Miss Ruth had insisted +that it should be at eight, while Miss Deborah contended that as they +dined, like all the rest of Ashurst, at noon, it was absurd to make it +later than six, and Miss Ruth's utmost persuasion had only brought it to +half past. + +During these days of preparation Miss Ruth could only flutter upon the +outskirts of the kitchen, which just now was a solemn place, and her +suggestions were scarcely noticed, and never heeded. It was hard to have +no share in those long conversations between Sarah and her sister, and +not to know the result of the mysterious researches among the receipts +which had been written out on blue foolscap and bound in marbled +pasteboard before Miss Deborah was born. + +Her time, however, came. Miss Deborah owned that no one could arrange a +table like Miss Ruth. The tall silver candlesticks with twisted arms, the +fruit in the open-work china baskets, the slender-stemmed glasses for the +wines, the decanters in the queer old coasters, and the great bunch of +chrysanthemums in the silver punch-bowl in the centre,--no one could +place them so perfectly as her sister. + +"Ruth," she affirmed, "has a touch," and she contemplated the board with +great satisfaction. + +"Pray," said Miss Ruth, as she quietly put back in its place a fruit dish +which Miss Deborah had "straightened," "pray where are Mr. Dale's +comfits? They must be on the tray to be taken into the parlor." + +"Sarah will fetch them," answered Miss Deborah; and at that moment Sarah +entered with the candy and a stately and elaborate dish, which she placed +upon the sideboard. + +"Poor, dear man," said Miss Ruth. "I suppose he never gets all the candy +he wishes at home. I trust there is plenty for to-night, sister? But what +is that Sarah just brought in?" + +"Well," Miss Deborah replied, with anxious pride in her tone, "it is not +Easter, I know, but it does look so well I thought I'd make it, anyhow. +It is Sic itur ad astra." + +This dish had been "composed" by Miss Deborah many years ago, and was +considered by all her friends her greatest triumph. Dr. Howe had +christened it, declaring that it was of a semi-religious nature, but in +Miss Deborah's pronunciation the Latin was no longer recognizable. + +It consisted of an arrangement of strips of candied orange and lemon +peel, intended to represent a nest of straw. On it were placed jellied +creams in different colors, which had been run into egg-shells to +stiffen. The whole was intended to suggest a nest of new-laid eggs. The +housekeeper will at once recognize the trouble and expense of such a +dish, as the shells which served for moulds had first to be emptied of +their contents through a small hole in one end, hopelessly mixing the +whites and yolks, and leaving them useless for fine cookery. + +No wonder, then, that Miss Deborah's face beamed with pride. But Miss +Ruth's showed nothing but contempt. "That--that--barn-door dish!" she +ejaculated. + +"Barn-door?" faltered Miss Deborah. + +"Barn-yard, I mean," said her sister sternly. "The idea of having such +a thing! Easter is the only excuse for it. It is undignified,--it is +absurd,--it is--it is preposterous!" + +"It is good," Miss Deborah maintained stoutly. + +"I don't deny that," said Miss Ruth, thinking they would have it for +dinner the next day, and perhaps the next also,--for it takes more +than one day for a family of two to eat up the remnants of a dinner +party,--"but you must see it is out of place at a formal dinner. It +must not appear." + +Discussion was useless. Each was determined, for each felt her particular +province had been invaded. And each carried her point. The dish did not +appear on the table, yet every guest was asked if he or she would have +some "Sicituradastra"--for to the housemaid it was one word--which was on +the sideboard. + +But the anxieties of the dinner were not over even when the table was as +beautiful and stately as could be desired, and Miss Deborah was conscious +that every dish was perfect. The two little ladies, tired, but satisfied, +had yet to dress. Sarah had put the best black silks on the bed in each +room, but for the lighter touches of the toilette the sisters were their +own judges. Miss Deborah must decide what laces she should wear, and long +did Miss Ruth stand at her dressing-table, wondering whether to pin the +pale lavender ribbon at her throat or the silver-gray one. + +Miss Deborah was dressed first. She wore a miniature of her +great-grandfather as a pin, and her little fingers were covered with +rings, in strange old-fashioned settings. Her small figure had an unusual +dignity in the lustrous silk, which was turned away at the neck, and +filled with point-lace that looked like frosted cobwebs. The sleeves of +her gown were full, and gathered into a wristband over point-lace ruffles +which almost hid her little hands, folded primly in front of her. "Little +bishops" Miss Deborah called these sleeves, and she was apt to say that, +for her part, she thought a closely fitting sleeve was hardly modest. Her +full skirt rustled, as, holding herself very straight, she came into her +sister's room, that they might go down together. + +Miss Ruth was still in her gray linsey-woolsey petticoat, short enough to +show her trim ankles in their black open-worked silk stockings. She stood +with one hand resting on the open drawer of her bureau, and in the other +the two soft bits of ribbon, that held the faint fragrance of rose leaves +which clung to all her possessions. Miss Ruth would never have confessed +it, but she was thinking that Mr. Forsythe was a very genteel young man, +and she wished she knew which ribbon would be more becoming. + +"Ruth!" said Miss Deborah, in majestic disapproval. + +The younger sister gave a little jump of fright, and dropped the ribbons +hastily, as though she feared Miss Deborah had detected her thoughts. +"I--I'll be ready directly, sister." + +"I hope so, indeed," said Miss Deborah severely, and moved with +deliberate dignity from the room, while Miss Ruth, much fluttered, took +her dress from the high bedstead, which had four cherry-wood posts, +carved in alternate balloons and disks, and a striped dimity valance. + +She still realized the importance of the right ribbon, and the +responsibility of choice oppressed her; but it was too late for any +further thought. She shut her eyes tight, and, with a trembling little +hand, picked up the first one she touched. Satisfied, since Fate so +decided it, that gray was the right color, she pinned it at her throat +with an old brooch of chased and twisted gold, and gave a last glance +at her swinging glass before joining her sister in the parlor. The +excitement had brought a faint flush into her soft cheek, and her eyes +were bright, and the gray ribbon had a pretty gleam in it. Miss Ruth gave +her hair a little pat over each ear, and felt a thrill of forgotten +vanity. + +"It's high time you were down, Ruth," cried Miss Deborah, who stood on +the rug in front of the blazing fire, rubbing her hands nervously +together,--"high time!" + +"Why, they won't be here for a quarter of an hour yet, sister," protested +Miss Ruth. + +"Well, you should be here! I do hope they won't be late; the venison is +to be taken out of the tin kitchen precisely at five minutes of seven. +Do, pray, sister, step into the hall and see what o'clock it is. I really +am afraid they are late." + +Miss Ruth went, but had scarcely crossed the threshold when Miss Deborah +cried, "Come back, come back, Ruth! You must be here when they come," and +then bustled away herself to fetch the housemaid to be ready to open the +door, though, as Miss Ruth had said, it was a good quarter of an hour +before the most impatient guest might be expected. + +Miss Ruth went about, straightening a chair, or pulling an antimacassar +to one side or the other, or putting an ornament in a better light, and +then stopping to snuff the candles in the brass sconces on either side of +the old piano. This and her anxiety about the venison fretted Miss +Deborah so much, it was a great relief to hear the first carriage, and +catch a glimpse of Mrs. Dale hurrying across the hall and up the stairs, +her well-known brown satin tucked up to avoid a speck of mud or dust. + +Miss Deborah plucked Miss Ruth's sleeve, and, settling the lace at her +own throat and wrists, bade her sister stand beside her on the rug. "And +do, dear Ruth, try and have more repose of manner," she said, breathing +quite quickly with excitement. + +When Mrs. Dale entered, rustling in her shiny satin, with Mr. Dale +shambling along behind her, the sisters greeted her with that stately +affection which was part of the occasion. + +"So glad to see you, dear Adele," said Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth in +turn; and Mrs. Dale responded with equal graciousness, and no apparent +recollection that they had almost quarreled that very morning at the +post-office, when Mrs. Dale said that the first cloth to be removed at +a dinner should be folded in fours, and Miss Deborah that it should be +folded in threes. + +Mr. Denner was the next to arrive, and while he was still making his bow +the Forsythes came in; Dick looking over the heads of the little ladies, +as though in search of some one else, and his mother languidly +acknowledging that it was an effort to come out in the evening. Lois and +the rector came with Colonel Drayton, and Miss Deborah breathed a sigh of +relief that the venison would not be kept waiting. + +Then Miss Deborah took Mrs. Forsythe's arm, while Miss Ruth and Dick +closed the little procession, and they marched into the dining-room, and +took their places about the table, glittering with silver and glass, and +lighted by gleaming wax tapers. It had not occurred to the little ladies +to place Dick near Lois. Mrs. Drayton was the lady upon his right, and +Lois was between such unimportant people as Mr. Denner and Mr. Dale. + +Dick was the lion of the dinner, and all that he said was listened to +with deference and even awe. But it was a relief to Lois not to have +to talk to him. She sat now at Mr. Denner's side, listening to the +small stream of words bubbling along in a cheerful monotony, with +scarcely a period for her answers. She was glad it was so; for though +her apple-blossom face was drooped a little, and her gray eyes were not +often lifted, and she looked the embodiment of maiden innocence and +unworldliness, Lois was thinking the thoughts which occupied her much of +late; weighing, and judging, struggling to reach some knowledge of +herself, yet always in the same perplexity. Did she love Dick Forsythe? +There was no doubt in her mind that she loved the life he represented; +but further than this she could not go. Yet he was so kind, she thought, +and loved her so much. If, then and there, Dick could have whispered the +question which was trembling on his lips, Lois was near enough to love to +have said Yes. + +Dinner was nearly over; that last desultory conversation had begun, which +was to be ended by a bow from Miss Deborah to Mrs. Forsythe, and the +ladies were dipping their nuts in their wine, half listening, and half +watching for the signal to rise. + +"How much we miss Gifford on such an occasion!" said Mr. Dale to Miss +Ruth. + +"Yes," replied the little lady, "dear Giff! How I wish he were here! He +would so enjoy meeting Mr. Forsythe." + +Lois smiled involuntarily, and the current of her thoughts suddenly +turned. She saw again the fragrant dusk of the rectory garden, and heard +the wind in the silver poplar and the tremble in a strong voice at her +side. + +She was as perplexed as ever when the ladies went back to the parlor. +Mrs. Forsythe came to her, as they passed through the hall, and took the +young girl's hand in hers. + +"I shall miss you very much this winter, Lois," she said, in her mildly +complaining voice. "You have been very good to me; no daughter could have +been more thoughtful. And I could not have loved a daughter of my own +more." She gently patted the hand she held. "Dick is not very happy, my +dear." + +"I'm sorry," faltered Lois. + +They had reached the parlor door, and Mrs. Forsythe bent her head towards +the girl's ear. "I hope--I trust--he will be, before we leave Ashurst." + +Lois turned away abruptly; how could she grieve this gentle invalid! + +"She'll find out what Arabella Forsythe is, one of these days," Mrs. Dale +thought, "but it's just as well she should love her for the present." Nor +did she lose the opportunity of using her influence to bring about the +desired consummation. + +Lois had gone, at Miss Deborah's request, to the piano, and begun to +sing, in her sweet girlish voice, some old-fashioned songs which the +sisters liked. + +"Jamie's on the stormy sea!" sang Lois, but her voice trembled, and she +missed a note, for Mrs. Dale had left the group of ladies about the fire, +and bent over her shoulder. + +"You know they go on Saturday, Lois," she said. "Do, now, I beg of you, +be a sensible girl. I never saw a man so much in love. You will be +perfectly happy, if you will only be sensible! I hope you will be at home +alone to-morrow." + +When the gentlemen entered, Dick Forsythe was quick to make his way to +Lois, sitting in the glimmer of the wax-lights in the sconces, at the old +piano. + +She stopped, and let her hands fall with a soft crash on the yellow keys. + +"Do go on," he pleaded. + +"No," she said, "it is too cold over here; let us come to the fire," and +she slipped away to her father's side. After that she was silent until it +was time to say good-night, for no one expected her to speak, although +Dick was the centre of the group, and did most of the talking. Later in +the evening they had some whist, and after that, just before the party +broke up, Mr. Denner was asked to sing. + +He rose, coughed deprecatingly, and glanced sidewise at Mr. Forsythe; +he feared he was out of tune. But Miss Deborah insisted with great +politeness. + +"If Miss Ruth would be so good as to accompany me," said Mr. Denner, "I +might at least make the attempt." + +Miss Ruth was shy about playing in public, but Mr. Denner encouraged her. +"You must overcome your timidity, my dear Miss Ruth," he said. "I--I am +aware that it is quite painful; but one ought not to allow it to become +a habit, as it were. It should be conquered in early life." + +So Miss Ruth allowed him to lead her to the piano. There was a little +stir about finding the music, before they were ready to begin; then Mr. +Denner ran his fingers through his brown wig, and, placing his small lean +hands on his hips, rocked back and forth on his little heels, while he +sang in a sweet but somewhat light and uncertain voice,-- + + "Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, + Bonnie lassie! artless lassie! + Will ye wi' me tent the flocks, + Will ye be my dearie, O?" + +This was received with great applause; then every one said good-night, +assuring each sister that it had been a delightful evening; and finally +the last carriage rolled off into the darkness, and the Misses Woodhouse +were left, triumphantly exhausted, to discuss the dinner and the guests. + +The rector walked home with Mr. Denner, who was still flushed with the +praise of his singing, so Lois had the carriage all to herself, and tried +to struggle against the fresh impulse of irresolution which Mrs. +Forsythe's whispered "Good-night, Lois; be good to my boy!" had given +her. + +She went into the library at the rectory, and, throwing off her wrap, sat +down on the hearth-rug, and determined to make up her mind. But first she +had to put a fresh log on the andirons, and then work away with the +wheezy old bellows, until a leaping flame lighted the shadowy room. The +log was green, and, instead of deciding, she found herself listening to +the soft bubbling noise of the sap, and thinking that it was the little +singing ghosts of the summer birds. Max came and put his head on her +knee, to be petted, and Lois's thoughts wandered off to the dinner party, +and Mr. Denner's singing, and what good things Miss Deborah cooked, and +how much his aunts must miss Gifford; so that she did not even hear the +front door open, or know that Dick Forsythe had entered, until she heard +Max snarl, and some one said in a tone which lacked its usual assurance, +"I--I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Lois?" + +She was on her feet before he had a chance to help her rise, and looked +at him with the frankest astonishment and dismay. + +What would aunt Deely say, what would Miss Deborah think! A young woman +receiving a gentleman alone after ten at night! "Father is not home yet," +she said hastily, so confused and startled she scarcely knew what she was +saying. "How dark it is in here! The fire has dazzled my eyes. I'll get +a light." + +"Oh, don't," he said; "I like the firelight." But she had gone, and +came back again with Sally, who carried the lamps, and looked very much +surprised, for Sally knew Ashurst ways better than Mr. Forsythe did: her +young man always went home at nine. + +"How pleasant it was at Miss Deborah's!" Lois began, when Sally had gone +out, and she was left alone to see the anxiety in Dick's face. "Nobody +has such nice dinners as Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth." Lois's voice was +not altogether firm, yet, to her own surprise, she began to feel quite +calm, and almost indifferent; she knew why Dick had come, but she did not +even then know what her answer would be. + +"Yes--no--I don't know," he answered. "The fact is, I only seemed to +live, Miss Lois, until I could get here to see you to-night. I heard your +father say he was going home with Denner, and I thought you'd be alone. +So I came. I could not stand any more suspense!" he added, with something +like a sob in his voice. + +Lois's heart gave one jump of fright, and then was quiet. She thought, +vaguely, that she was glad he had rushed into it at once, so that she +need not keep up that terrible fencing, but she did not speak. She had +been sitting in a corner of the leather-covered sofa, and his excitement, +as he stood looking at her, made her rise. + +He grasped her hands in his, wringing them sharply as he spoke, not even +noticing her little cry of pain, or her efforts to release herself. "You +know I love you,--you know it! Why haven't you let me tell you so? Oh, +Lois, how lovely you are to-night,--how happy we shall be!" + +He kissed one of her hands with a sudden savage passion that frightened +her. "Oh--don't," she said, shrinking back, and pulling her hands away +from him. + +He looked at her blankly a moment, but when he spoke again it was gently. +"Did I frighten you? I didn't mean to; but you know I love you. That +hasn't startled you? Tell me you care for me, Lois." + +"But--but"--said Lois, sorry and ashamed, "I--don't!" + +The eager boyish face, so near her own, flushed with sudden anger. "You +don't? You must! Why--why, I love you. It cannot be that you really +don't--tell me?" + +But there was no doubt in Lois's mind now. "Indeed, Mr. Forsythe," she +said, "indeed, I am so sorry, but I don't--I can't!" + +A sullen look clouded his handsome face. "I cannot believe it," he said, +at length. "You have known that I loved you all summer; you cannot be so +cruel as to trifle with me now. You will not treat me so. Oh, I love +you!" There was almost a wail in his voice, and he threw himself down in +a chair and covered, his face with his hands. + +Lois did not speak. Her lip curled a little, but it was partly with +contempt for herself and her past uncertainty. "I am so sorry, so +grieved," she began. But he scarcely heard her, or at least he did not +grasp the significance of her words. + +He began to plead and protest. "We will be so happy if you will only +care for me. Just think how different your life will be; you shall have +everything in this world you want, Lois." + +She could not check his torrent of words, and when at last he stopped he +had almost convinced himself that she loved him. + +But she shook her head. "I cannot tell you how distressed I am, but I do +not love you." + +He was silent, as though trying to understand. + +"Won't you try and forget it? Won't you forgive me, and let us be +friends?" she said. + +"You really mean it? You really mean to make me wretched? Forget it? I +wish to Heaven I could!" + +Lois did not speak. There seemed to be nothing to say. + +"You have let me think you cared," he went on, "and I have built on it; +I have staked all my happiness on it; I am a ruined man if you don't love +me. And you coolly tell me you do not care for me! Can't you try to? I'll +make you so happy, if you will only make me happy, Lois." + +"Please--please," she protested, "do not say anything more; it never can +be,--indeed, it cannot!" + +Dick's voice had been tender a moment before, but it was hard now. +"Well," he said, "you have amused yourself all summer, I suppose. You +made me think you loved me, and everybody else thought so, too." + +The hint of blame kept Lois from feeling the sting of conscience. She +flung her head back, and looked at him with a flash of indignation in her +eyes. "Do you think it's manly to blame me? You had better blame yourself +that you couldn't win my love!" + +"Do you expect a man to choose his words when you give him his +death-blow?" he said; and then, "Oh, Miss Lois, if I wait, can't you +learn to care for me? I'll wait,--a year, if you say there's any hope. +Or do you love anybody else? Is that the reason?" + +"That has nothing to do with it," Lois cried, hotly, "but I don't." + +"Then," said Dick eagerly, "you must love me, only you don't recognize +it, not having been in love before. Of course it's different with a girl +who doesn't know what love is. Oh, say you do!" + +Lois, with quick compunction for her anger, was gentle enough now. "I +cannot say so. I wish you would forget me, and forgive me if you can. I'm +sorry to have grieved you,--truly I am." + +There was silence for a few minutes, only broken by a yawn from Max and +the snapping of the fire. + +"I tell you I cannot forget," the young man said, at last. "You have +ruined my life for me. Do you think I'll be apt to forget the woman +that's done that? I'll love you always, but life is practically over for +me. Remember that, the next time you amuse yourself, Miss Howe!" Then, +without another word, he turned on his heel and left her. + +Lois drew a long breath as she heard him slam the front door behind him, +and then she sat down on the rug again. She was too angry to cry, though +her hands shook with nervousness. But under all her excitement was the +sting of mortification and remorse. + +Max, with that strange understanding which animals sometimes show, +suddenly turned and licked her face, and then looked at her, all his love +speaking in his soft brown eyes. + +"Oh, Max, dear," Lois cried, flinging her arms around him, and resting +her cheek on his shining head, "what a comfort you are! How much nicer +dogs are than men!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Dr. Howe, with no thought of Mr. Forsythe's unceremonious call at the +rectory, had gone home with Mr. Denner. "One needs a walk," he said, +"after one of Miss Deborah's dinners. Bless my soul, what a housekeeper +that woman is!" + +"Just so," said Mr. Denner, hurrying along at his side,--"just so. Ah--it +has often occurred to me." + +And when the rector had left him at his white gateway between the +Lombardy poplars, Mr. Denner went into his library, and after stumbling +about to light his lamp, and stirring his fire to have a semblance, at +least, of cheer, he sat down and meditated further on this subject of +Miss Deborah's housekeeping. + +It was a dreary room, with lofty ceilings and few and narrow windows. The +house was much lower than the street, and had that piercing chill of +dampness which belongs to houses in a hollow, and the little gentleman +drew so close to the smouldering fire that his feet were inside the +fender. + +He leaned forward, and resting his elbows on his knees, propped his +chin on his hands, and stared at the smoke curling heavily up into the +cavernous chimney, where the soot hung long and black. It was very +lonely. Willie Denner, of course, had long ago gone to bed, and unless +the lawyer chose to go into the kitchen for company, where Mary was +reading her one work of fiction. "The Accounts of the Death Beds of +Eminent Saints," he had no one to speak to. Many a time before had he sat +thus, pondering on the solitude of his life, and contrasting his house +with other Ashurst homes. He glanced about his cold bare room, and +thought of the parlor of the Misses Woodhouse. How pleasant it was, how +bright, and full of pretty feminine devices! whereas his library--Mary +had been a hard mistress. One by one the domestic decorations of the +late lady of the house had disappeared. She could not "have things round +a-trapin' dust," Mary said, and her word was law. + +"If my little sister had lived," he said, crouching nearer the fire, +and watching a spark catch in the soot and spread over the chimney-back +like a little marching regiment, that wheeled and maneuvered, and then +suddenly vanished, "it would have been different. She would have made +things brighter. Perhaps she would have painted, like Miss Ruth; and +I have no doubt she would have been an excellent housekeeper. We +should have just lived quietly here, she and I, and I need never have +thought"--Mr. Denner flushed faintly in the firelight--"of marriage." + +Mr. Denner's mind had often traveled as far as this; he had even gone to +the point of saying to himself that he wished one of the Misses Woodhouse +would regard him with sentiments of affection, and he and Willie, free +from Mary, could have a home of their own, instead of forlornly envying +the rector and Henry Dale. + +But Mr. Denner had never said which Miss Woodhouse; he had always thought +of them, as he would have expressed it, "collectively," nor could he have +told which one he most admired,--he called it by no warmer name, even to +himself. + +But as he sat here alone, and remembered the pleasant evening he had had, +and watched his fire smoulder and die, and heard the soft sigh of the +rising wind, he reached a tremendous conclusion. He would make up his +mind. He would decide which of the Misses Woodhouse possessed his deeper +regard. "Yes," he said, as he lifted first one foot and then the other +over the fender, and, pulling his little coat-tails forward under his +arms, stood with his back to the fireplace,--"yes, I will make up my +mind; I will make it up to-morrow. I cannot go on in this uncertain way. +I cannot allow myself to think of Miss Ruth, and how she would paint +her pictures, and play my accompaniments, and then find my mind on Miss +Deborah's dinners. It is impracticable; it is almost improper. To-morrow +I will decide." + +To have reached this conclusion was to have accomplished a great deal. + +Mr. Denner went to bed much cheered; but he dreamed of walking about Miss +Ruth's studio, and admiring her pictures, when, to his dismay, he found +Mary had followed him, and was saying she couldn't bear things all of a +clutter. + +The next morning he ate his breakfast in solemn haste; it was to be an +important day for him. He watched Mary as she walked about, handing him +dishes with a sternness which had always awed him into eating anything +she placed before him, and wondered what she would think when she +heard--He trembled a little at the thought of breaking it to her; and +then he remembered Miss Ruth's kind heart, and he had a vision of a +pension for Mary, which was checked instantly by the recollection of +Miss Deborah's prudent economy. + +"Ah, well," he thought, "I shall know to-night. Economy is a good +thing,--Miss Ruth herself would not deny that." + +He went out to his office, and weighed and balanced his inclinations +until dinner-time, and again in the afternoon, but with no result. Night +found him hopelessly confused, with the added grievance that he had not +kept his word to himself. + +This went on for more than a week; by and by the uncertainty began to +wear greatly upon him. + +"Dear me!" he sighed one morning, as he sat in his office, his little +gaitered feet upon the rusty top of his air-tight stove, and his +brierwood pipe at his lips--it had gone out, leaving a bowl of cheerless +white ashes,--"dear me! I no sooner decide that it had better be Miss +Deborah--for how satisfying my linen would be if she had an eye on the +laundry, and I know she would not have bubble-and-squeak for dinner as +often as Mary does--than Miss Ruth comes into my mind. What taste she +has, and what an ear! No one notices the points in my singing as she +does; and how she did turn that carpet in Gifford's room; dear me!" + +He sat clutching his extinguished pipe for many minutes, when suddenly a +gleam came into his face, and the anxious look began to disappear. + +He rose, and laid his pipe upon the mantelpiece, first carefully knocking +the ashes into the wood-box which stood beside the stove. Then, standing +with his left foot wrapped about his right ankle and his face full of +suppressed eagerness, he felt in each pocket of his waistcoat, and +produced first a knife, then a tape measure, a pincushion, a bunch of +keys, and last a large, worn copper cent. It was smooth with age, but its +almost obliterated date still showed that it had been struck the year of +Mr. Denner's birth. + +Next, he spread his pocket handkerchief smoothly upon the floor, and +then, a little stiffly, knelt upon it. He rubbed the cent upon the cuff +of his coat to make it shine, and held it up a moment in the stream of +wintry sunshine that poured through the office window and lay in a golden +square on the bare floor. + +"Heads," said Mr. Denner,--"heads shall be Miss Deborah; tails, Miss +Ruth. Oh, dear me! I wonder which?" + +As he said this, he pitched the coin with a tremulous hand, and then +leaned forward, breathlessly watching it fall, waver from side to side, +and roll slowly under the bookcase. Too much excited to rise from his +knees, he crept towards it, and, pressing his cheek against the dusty +floor, he peered under the unwieldy piece of furniture, to catch a +glimpse of his penny and learn his fate. + +At such a critical moment it was not surprising that he did not, hear +Willie Denner come into the office. The little boy stood still, surprised +at his uncle's attitude. "Have you lost something, sir?" he said, but +without waiting for an answer, he fell on his knees and looked also. + +"Oh, I see,--your lucky penny; I'll get it for you in a minute." + +And stretching out flat upon his stomach, he wriggled almost under the +bookcase, while Mr. Denner rose and furtively brushed the dust from his +knees. + +"Here it is, uncle William," Willie said, emerging from the shadow of the +bookcase; "it was clear against the wall, and 'most down in a crack." + +Mr. Denner took the penny from the child, and rubbed it nervously between +his hands. + +"I suppose," he inquired with great hesitation, "you did not chance to +observe, William, which--ah--which side was up?" + +"No, sir," answered Willie, with amazement written on his little freckled +face; "it hadn't fallen, you know, uncle; it was just leaning against the +wall. I came in to bring my Latin exercise," he went on. "I'll run back +to school now, sir." + +He was off like a flash, saying to himself in a mystified way, "I wonder +if uncle William plays heads and tails all alone in the office?" + +Mr. Denner stood holding the penny, and gazing blankly at it, unconscious +of the dust upon his cheek. + +"That did not decide it," he murmured. "I must try something else." + +For Mr. Denner had some small superstitions, and it is doubtful if he +would have questioned fate again in the same way, even if he had not been +interrupted at that moment by the rector. + +Dr. Howe came into the office beating his hands to warm them, his face +ruddy and his breath short from a walk in the cold wind. He had come to +see the lawyer about selling a bit of church land; Mr. Denner hastily +slipped his penny into his pocket, and felt his face grow hot as he +thought in what a posture the rector would have found him had he come +a few minutes sooner. + +"Bless my soul, Denner," Dr. Howe said, when, the business over, he rose +to go, "this den of yours is cold!" He stooped to shake the logs in the +small stove, hoping to start a blaze. The rector would have resented any +man's meddling with his fire, but all Mr. Denner's friends felt a sort of +responsibility for him, which he accepted as a matter of course. + +"Ah, yes," replied Mr. Denner, "it is chilly here. It had not occurred +to me, but it is chilly. Some people manage to keep their houses very +comfortable in weather like this. It is always warm at the rectory, I +notice, and at Henry Dale's, or--ah--the Misses Woodhouse's,--always +warm." + +The rector, taking up a great deal of room in the small office, was on +his knees, puffing at the fire until his face was scarlet. "Yes. I don't +believe that woman of yours half looks after your comfort, Denner. Can't +be a good housekeeper, or she would not let this stove get so choked with +ashes." + +"No," Mr. Denner acknowledged--"ah--I am inclined to agree with you, +doctor. Not perhaps a really good housekeeper. But few women are,--very +few. You do not find a woman like Miss Deborah Woodhouse often, you +know." + +"True enough," said Dr. Howe, pulling on his big fur gloves. "That +salad of hers, the other night, was something to live for. What is +that?--'plunge his fingers in the salad bowl'--'tempt the dying anchorite +to eat,'--I can't remember the lines, but that is how I feel about Miss +Deborah's salad." The rector laughed in a quick, breezy bass, beat his +hands together, and was ready to start. + +"Yes," said Mr. Denner, "just so,--quite so. But Miss Deborah is a +remarkable woman, an estimable woman. One scarcely knows which is the +more admirable, Miss Deborah or Miss Ruth. Which should you--ah--which do +you most admire?" + +The rector turned, with one hand on the door-knob, and looked at the +lawyer, with a sudden gleam in his keen eyes. "Well, I am sure I don't +know. I never thought of comparing them. They are both, as you say, +estimable ladies." + +"Oh, yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Denner hurriedly. "I only mentioned it +because--it was merely in the most general way; I--I--did not mean to +compare--oh, not at all--of course I should never discuss a lady's worth, +as it were. I spoke in confidence; I merely wondered what your opinion +might be--not"--cried Mr. Denner, bursting into a cold perspiration of +fright to see how far his embarrassment had betrayed him--"not that I +really care to know! Oh, not at all!" + +The rector flung his head back, and his rollicking laugh jarred the very +papers on Mr. Denner's desk. + +"It is just as well you don't, for I am sure I could not say. I respect +them both immensely. I have from boyhood," he added, with a droll look. + +Mr. Denner coughed nervously. + +"It is not of the slightest consequence," he explained,--"not the +slightest. I spoke thoughtlessly; ah--unadvisedly." + +"Of course, of course; I understand," cried the rector, and forbore to +add a good-natured jest at Mr. Denner's embarrassment, which was really +painful. + +But when he was well out of hearing, he could not restrain a series of +chuckles. + +"By Jove!" he cried, clapping his thigh, "Denner!--Denner and Miss +Deborah! Bless my soul,--Denner!" + +His mirth, however, did not last long; some immediate annoyances of his +own forced themselves into his mind. + +Before he went to the lawyer's office, he had had a talk with Mrs. Dale, +which had not been pleasant; then a letter from Helen had come; and now +an anxious wrinkle showed itself under his fur cap, as he walked back to +the rectory. + +He had gone over to show Mr. Dale a somewhat highly seasoned sketch in +"Bell's Life;" in the midst of their enjoyment of it, they were +interrupted by Mrs. Dale. + +"I want to speak to you about Lois, brother. Ach! how this room smells of +smoke!" she said. + +"Why, what has the child done now?" said Dr. Howe. + +"You needn't say 'What has she done now?' as though I was always finding +fault," Mrs. Dale answered, "though I do try to do my Christian duty if +I see any one making a mistake." + +"Adele," remarked the rector, with a frankness which was entirely that +of a brother, and had no bearing upon his office, "you are always ready +enough with that duty of fault-finding." Mr. Dale looked admiringly at +his brother-in-law. "Why don't you think of the duty of praise, once in +a while? Praise is a Christian grace too much neglected. Don't you think +so, Henry?" + +But Mrs. Dale answered instead: "I am ready enough to praise when there +is occasion for it, but you can't expect me to praise Lois for her +behavior to young Forsythe. Arabella says the poor youth is completely +prostrated by the blow." + +"Bah!" murmured Mr. Dale under his breath; but Dr. Howe said +impatiently,-- + +"What do you mean? What blow?" + +"Why, Lois has refused him!" cried Mrs. Dale. "What else?" + +"I didn't know she had refused him," the rector answered slowly. "Well, +the child is the best judge, after all." + +"I am glad of it," said Mr. Dale,--"I am glad of it. He was no husband +for little Lois,--no, my dear, pray let me speak,--no husband for Lois. +I have had some conversation with him, and I played euchre with him once. +He played too well for a gentleman, Archibald." + +"He beat you, did he?" said the rector. + +"That had nothing to do with it!" cried Mr. Dale. "I should have said the +same thing had I been his partner"-- + +"Fudge!" Mrs. Dale interrupted, "as though it made the slightest +difference how a man played a silly game! Don't be foolish, Henry. Lois +has made a great mistake, but I suppose there is nothing to be done, +unless young Forsythe should try again. I hope he will, and I hope she +will have more sense." + +The rector was silent. He could not deny that he was disappointed, and as +he went towards the post-office, he almost wished he had offered a word +of advice to Lois. "Still, a girl needs her mother for that sort of +thing, and, after all, perhaps it is best. For really, I should be very +dull at the rectory without her." Thus he comforted himself for what was +only a disappointment to his vanity, and was quite cheerful when he +opened Helen's letter. + +The post-office was in that part of the drug-store where the herbs were +kept, and the letters always had a faint smell of pennyroyal or wormwood +about them. The rector read his letter, leaning against the counter, +and crumpling some bay leaves between his fingers; and though he was +interrupted half a dozen times by people coming for their mail, and +stopping to gossip about the weather or the church, he gained a very +uncomfortable sense of its contents. + +"More of this talk about belief," he grumbled, as he folded the last +sheet, covered with the clear heavy writing, and struck it impatiently +across his hand before he thrust it down into his pocket. "What in the +world is John Ward thinking of to let her bother her head with such +questions?" + +"I am surprised" Helen wrote, "to see how narrowness and intolerance seem +to belong to intense belief. Some of these elders in John's church, +especially a man called Dean (the father of my Alfaretta), believe in +their horrible doctrines with all their hearts, and their absolute +conviction make them blind to any possibility of good in any creed which +does not agree with theirs. Apparently, they think they have reached the +ultimate truth, and never even look for new light. That is the strangest +thing to me. Now, for my part, I would not sign a creed to-day which I +had written myself, because one lives progressively in religion as in +everything else. But, after all, as I said to Gifford the other day, the +_form_ of belief is of so little consequence. The main thing is to have +the realization of God in one's own soul; it would be enough to have +that, I should think. But to some of us God is only another name for the +power of good,--or, one might as well say force, and that is blind and +impersonal; there is nothing comforting or tender in the thought of +force. How do you suppose the conviction of the personality of God is +reached?" + +"All nonsense," said the rector, as he went home, striking out with +his cane at the stalks of golden-rod standing stiff with frost at the +roadside. "I shall tell Gifford he ought to know better than to have +these discussions with her. Women don't understand such things; they go +off at half cock, and think themselves skeptics. All nonsense!" + +But the rector need not have felt any immediate anxiety about his niece. +As yet such questions were only a sort of intellectual exercise; the time +had not come when they should be intensely real, and she should seek for +an answer with all the force of her life, and know the anguish of despair +which comes when a soul feels itself adrift upon a sea of unbelief. They +were not of enough importance to talk of to John, even if she had not +known they would trouble him; she and Gifford had merely spoken of them +as speculations of general interest; yet all the while they were shaping +and moulding her mind for the future. + +But the letter brought a cloud on Dr. Howe's face; he wanted to forget +it, he was impatient to shake off the unpleasant remembrances it roused, +and so engaged was he in this that by the time he had reached the rectory +Mr. Denner and his perplexities were quite out of his mind, though the +lawyer's face was still tingling with mortification. + +Mr. Denner could not keep his thoughts from his puzzle. Supper-time came, +and he was still struggling to reach a conclusion. He carved the cold +mutton with more than usual precision, and ate it in anxious abstraction. +The room was chilly; draughts from the narrow windows made the lamp +flare, and the wind from under the closed door raised the carpet in +swells along the floor. He did not notice Willie, who kept his hands in +his pockets for warmth, and also because he had nothing for them to do. + +When Mr. Denner rang for Mary, the boy said with anxious politeness, +"Was--was the mutton good, sir?" + +Willie had been well brought up,--he was not to speak unless spoken to; +but under the press of hunger nature rebelled, for his uncle, in his +absorption, had forgotten to help him to anything. + +Mr. Denner carved some meat for the child, and then sat and watched him +with such gloomy eyes, that Willie was glad to finish and push his chair +back for prayers. + +The table was cleared, and then Mary put the Bible in front of Mr. +Denner, and Jay's "Morning and Evening Exercises," open at the proper +day. Two candles in massive candlesticks on either side of his book gave +an unsteady light, and when they flickered threw strange shadows on the +ceiling. The frames which held the paintings of Mr. Denner's grandparents +loomed up dark and forbidding, and Mary, who always sat with her arms +rolled in her apron and her head bowed upon her ample breast, made a +grotesque shadow, which danced and bobbed about on the door of the +pantry. Mary generally slept through prayers, while for Willie it was +a time of nervous dread. The room was so dark, and his uncle's voice so +strange and rolling, the little fellow feared to kneel down and turn his +back to the long table with its ghastly white cloth; his imagination +pictured fearful things stealing upon him from the mysterious space +beneath it, and his heart beat so he could scarcely hear the words of the +prayer. But Mr. Denner enjoyed it. Not, however, because prayer was the +expression of his soul; family prayer was merely a dignified and proper +observance. Mr. Denner would not; have omitted it any more than he would +have neglected Sunday morning service; but he was scarcely more aware of +the words than Willie or Mary were. It was the reading which gave Mr. +Denner so much pleasure. + +Perhaps the cases he had never pleaded, the dramatic force which he +secretly longed to exert, expended themselves in the sonorous chapters +of Isaiah or in the wail of Jeremiah. Indeed, the thought had more than +once occurred to Mr. Denner that the rector, who read the service with +cheerful haste, might improve in his own delivery, could he listen to the +eloquence under which Mary and little Willie sat every evening. + +To-night it was the victory of Jephtha. The reading proceeded as usual: +Mary slumbered tranquilly at her end of the room; Willie counted the +number of panes of glass in the window opposite him, and wondered what +he should do if suddenly a white face should peer in at him out of the +darkness; Mr. Denner had reached the vow that whatsoever should first +meet Jephtha,--when, with his hand extended, his eyebrows drawn together, +and his whole attitude expressing the anxiety and fear of the conqueror, +he stopped abruptly. Here was an inspiration! + +Mary woke with a start. "Is it a stroke?" she exclaimed. But Willie, with +one frightened look at the window and the long table, slipped from his +chair to kneel, thinking the reading was over. The sound of his little +copper-toed boots upon the floor aroused Mr. Denner; he frowned +portentously. "_So Jephtha passed over unto the children of Ammon_," +he read on, "_to fight against them, and the Lord delivered them into +his hands_." + +When prayers were ended, however, and he was sitting in his library +alone, he said with a subdued glee, "That is the way to do it,--the one +I see first!" And Mr. Denner went to bed with a quiet mind, and the peace +which follows the decision of a momentous question. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +The cold that winter was more persistent and severe in the mountains than +down in Ashurst. + +At Lockhaven the river had been frozen over for a month, even above the +bridge and the mills, where the current was swiftest. Long lines of +sawdust, which had been coiling and whirling in the eddies, or stretching +across the black seething water, were caught in the ice, or blown about +with the powdered snow over its surface. + +Rafts could not come down the river, so the mills had no work to do, for +the logs on hand at the beginning of the cold snap had been sawed into +long rough planks, and piled in the lumber-yards, ready to be rafted as +soon as the thaw came. The cold, still air was sweet with the fragrance +of fresh pine boards, and the ground about the mills was covered with +sawdust, so that footsteps fell as silently as though on velvet, instead +of ringing sharp against the frozen ground. + +John Ward, walking wearily home from a long visit to a sick woman, came, +as he crossed the lumber-yards, upon a group of raftsmen; they had not +heard his approach, and were talking loudly, with frequent bursts of +drunken laughter. + +It was towards evening; the sky had been threatening all day, and when +the clouds lifted suddenly in the west, blown aside like tumultuous folds +of a gray curtain, the red sun sent a flood of color across the wintry +landscape; the bare branches of the trees were touched with light, and +the pools of black, clear ice gleamed with frosty fire. John's face had +caught the radiance. + +He had come up to the men so silently that he had been standing beside +them a moment before they noticed him, and then Tom Davis, with a start +of drunken fear, tried to hide the bottle which he held. + +"Damn you, mate, you're spillin' it!" cried one of the others, making an +unsteady lunge forward to seize the bottle. + +"Let up, let up," said Tom thickly. "Don't ye see the preacher?" Though +Davis was not one of his flock, he had the same reverence for the +preacher which his congregation felt. All Lockhaven loved and feared John +Ward. + +John had not spoken, even though a little boy, building block houses on a +heap of sawdust near the men, had come up and taken his hand with a look +of confident affection. + +The man who had saved the whiskey stumbled to his feet, and leaning +against a pile of lumber stood open-mouthed, waiting for the preacher's +rebuke; but Davis hung his head, and began to fumble for a pipe in his +sagging coat pocket; with clumsy fingers, scattering the tobacco from his +little bag, he tried to fill it. + +"Tom," the preacher said, at last, "I want you to come home with me, now. +And Jim, you will give me that bottle." + +"I can't go home, preacher. I've got to buy some things. She said I was +to buy some things for the brats." + +"Have you bought them?" John asked. Tom gave a silly laugh. + +"Not yet, preacher, not yet." + +"Listen, men," John said, with sudden sternness. "You have let this child +see you on the road to hell. If he can remember this sight, it will save +his soul." + +Tom Davis shrank as the preacher said "hell." He gave a maudlin cry, and +almost whimpered, "No, sir, no, preacher, I am a-goin' to reform." John +had known what note to touch in this debased nature. Not love, nor hope, +nor shame, would move Tom Davis, but fear stung him into a semblance of +sobriety. "I'll come along wi' you," he went on, swaying back and forth, +and steadying himself with a hand on the lumber against which he had been +leaning. "This is the last time, preacher. You won't see me this way no +more." + +Here he hiccoughed, and then laughed, but remembering himself instantly, +drew his forehead into a scowl. + +The other men slunk away, for the minister had taken the bottle, and Tom +Davis was following him through the narrow passages between the great +piles of boards, towards his house. + +The boy had gone back to his block house; the pile of sawdust in the +sheltered corner was more comfortable and not more cheerless than his own +home. + +John left Davis at his door. The man looked cowed, but there was no shame +in his face, and no sense of sin. It was unpleasant to be caught by the +preacher, and he was frightened by that awful word, which it was the +constant effort of his numb, helpless brain to forget. + +John went on alone. He walked slowly, with his eyes fixed absently on the +ground, thinking. "Poor Davis," he said, "poor fellow!" The man's future +seemed quite hopeless to the preacher, and, thinking of it, he recalled +Mrs. Davis's regret that he had not spoken of hell in his sermon. + +John sighed. His grief at Helen's unbelief was growing in his silence; +yet he realized the inconsistency of his love in hiding his sorrow from +her. + +"It is robbing her, not to let her share it," he thought, "but I dare not +speak to her yet." + +More than once during the winter he had tried to show her the truth and +the beauty of various doctrines, generally that of reprobation, but she +had always evaded discussion; sometimes lightly, for it seemed such a +small matter to her, but always firmly. + +The preacher loitered, stopping to look at the river and the gaunt line +of mills against the sky. He left the path, and went down to the edge of +the white ice, so full of air bubbles, it seemed like solid snow, and +listened to the gurgle of the hurrying water underneath. + +A shed was built close to the stream, to shelter a hand fire-engine. It +had not been used for so long that the row of buckets beside it, which +were for dipping up water to fill it, were warped and cracked, their iron +bands rusty, and out of one or two the bottom had fallen. The door of the +shed creaked on its one hinge, and John looked up surprised to see how +dark it had grown, then he turned towards home. + +"Yes," he said to himself, "I must show her her danger. It will grieve +her to force an argument upon her, and I don't think she has had one +unhappy hour since we were married; but even if it were not for her own +soul's sake, I must not let my people starve for the bread of life, to +spare her. I must not be silent concerning the danger of the sinner. But +it will trouble her,--it will trouble her." + +John had dallied with temptation so long, that it had grown bold, and did +not always hide under the plea of wisdom, but openly dared him to inflict +the pain of grieving his wife upon himself. He still delayed, yet there +were moments when he knew himself a coward, and had to summon every +argument of the past to his defense. But before he reached the parsonage +door he had lapsed into such tender thoughts of Helen that he said again, +"Not quite yet; it seems to annoy her so to argue upon such things. I +must leave it until I win her to truth by the force of its own +constraining beauty. Little by little I will draw her attention to it. +And I must gradually make my sermons more emphatic." + +Helen met him at the door, and drew him into the house. "You are so +late," she said, pressing his chill fingers against her warm cheek, and +chafing them between her hands. + +He stopped to kiss her before he took his coat off, smiling at her +happiness and his own. + +"How raw and cold it is!" she said. "Come into the study; I have a +beautiful fire for you. Is it going to snow, do you think? How is your +sick woman?" + +"Better," he answered, as he followed her into the room. "Oh, Helen, it +is good to be at home. I have not seen you since noon." + +She laughed, and then insisted that he should sit still, and let her +bring his supper into the study, and eat it there by the fire. He watched +her with a delicious luxury of rest and content; for he was very tired +and very happy. + +She put a little table beside him, covered with a large napkin; and then +she brought a loaf of brown bread and some honey, with a mould of yellow +butter, and last a little covered dish of chicken. + +"I broiled that for you myself," she explained proudly; "and I did not +mean to give you coffee, but what do you think?--the whole canister of +tea has disappeared. When Alfaretta went to get it for my supper, it had +gone." + +"Oh," John said, smiling, while Helen began to pour some cream into his +coffee from a flat little silver jug, "I forgot to mention it: the fact +is, I took that tea with me this afternoon,--I thought probably they had +none in the house; and I wish you could have seen the woman's joy at the +sight of it. I cooked some for her,--she told me how," he said +deprecatingly, for Helen laughed; "and she said it was very good, too," +he added. + +But Helen refused to believe that possible. "It was politeness, John," +she cried gayly, "and because, I suppose, you presented her with my +lacquered canister." + +"I did leave it," John admitted; "I never thought of it." But he forgot +even to ask forgiveness, as she bent towards him, resting her hand on +his shoulder while she put his cup beside him. + +"The fire has flushed your cheek," he said, touching it softly, the +lover's awe shining in his eyes; with John it had never been lost in the +assured possession of the husband. Helen looked at him, smiling a little, +but she did not speak. Silence with her told sometimes more than words. + +"It has been such a long afternoon," he said. "I was glad to hurry home; +perhaps that is the reason I forgot the canister." + +"Shall I send you back for it?" She put her lips for a moment against his +hand, and then, glancing out at the night for sheer joy at the warmth and +light within, she added, "Why, what is that glow, John? It looks like +fire." + +He turned, and then pushed back his chair and went to the window. + +"It does look like fire," he said anxiously. + +Helen had followed him, and they watched together a strange light, rising +and falling, and then brightening again all along the sky. Even as they +looked the upper heavens began to pulsate and throb with faint crimson. + +"It is fire!" John exclaimed. "Let me get my coat. I must go." + +"Oh, not now," Helen said. "You must finish your supper; and you are so +tired, John!" + +But he was already at the door and reaching for his hat. + +"It must be the lumber-yards, and the river is frozen!" + +"Wait!" Helen cried. "Let me get my cloak. I will go if you do," and a +moment later the parsonage door banged behind them, and they hurried out +into the darkness. + +The street which led to the lumber-yards had been silent and deserted +when John passed through it half an hour before, but now all Lockhaven +seemed to throng it. + +The preacher and his wife could hear the snapping and crackling of flames +even before they turned the last corner and saw the blaze, which, +sweeping up into the cold air, began to mutter before it broke with a +savage roar. They caught sight of Gifford's broad shoulders in the crowd, +which stood, fascinated and appalled, watching the destruction of what to +most of them meant work and wages. + +"Oh, Giff!" Helen said when they reached his side, "why don't they do +something? Have they tried to put it out?" + +"It's no use to try now," Gifford answered. "They didn't discover it in +time. It has made such headway, that the only thing to do is to see that +it burns out, without setting fire to any of the houses. Fortunately the +wind is towards the river." + +John shook his head; he was too breathless to speak for a moment; then he +said, "Something must be done." + +"There is no use, Mr. Ward," Gifford explained. But John scarcely heard +him; his people's comfort, their morality almost,--for poverty meant +deeper sin to most of them,--was burning up in those great square piles +of planks. + +"Men," he shouted, "men, the engine! To the river! Run! run!" + +"Nothing can be done," Gifford said, as the crowd broke, following the +preacher, who was far ahead of all; but he too started, as though to join +them, and then checked himself, and went back into the deserted street, +walking up and down, a self-constituted patrol. + +Almost every man had gone to the river. Tom Davis, however, with Molly +beside him, stood lolling against a tree, sobered, indeed, by the shock +of the fire, but scarcely steady enough on his legs to run. Another, who +was a cripple, swaying to and fro on his crutches with excitement, broke +into a storm of oaths because his companion did not do the work for which +he was himself too helpless. But Tom only gazed with bleared eyes at the +fire, and tried to stand up straight. + +The little crowd of women about Helen had been silenced at first by the +tumult and glare, but now broke into wild lamentations, and entreaties +that Heaven would send the engine soon, wringing their hands, and +sobbing, and frightening the children that clung about their skirts even +more than the fire itself. + +"How did it start?" Helen said, turning to the woman next to her, who, +shivering with excitement, held a baby in her arms, who gazed at the fire +with wide, tranquil eyes, as though it had been gotten up for his +entertainment. + +"They say," answered the woman, tossing her head in the direction of Tom +Davis,--"they say him and some other fellows was in 'mong the lumber this +afternoon, drinkin', you know, and smokin'. Most likely a match dropped, +or ashes from their pipes. Drunken men ain't reasonable about them +things," she added, with the simplicity of experience. "They don't stop +to think they're burnin' up money, an' whiskey too; for Dobbs don't trust +'em, now the mill is shut down." + +"Yes," said another woman who stood by, "them men! what do they care? +You," she shouted, shaking her fist at Tom,--"you'll starve us all, will +ye? an' your poor wife, just up from her sick bed! I do' know as she'll +be much worse off, though, when he is out of work," she added, turning to +Helen--"fer every blessed copper he has goes to the saloon." + +"Yer man's as bad as me," Tom protested, stung by her taunts and the +jeers of the cripple. + +"An' who is it as leads him on?" screamed the woman. "An' if he does take +a drop sometimes, it wasn't him as was in the lumber-yard this afternoon, +a-settin' fire to the boards, an' burnin' up the food and comfort o' the +whole town!" + +Tom hurled a torrent of profanity at the woman and the cripple +collectively, and then stumbled towards the road with the crowd, for the +fire was approaching the side of the yard where they stood, and beating +them back into the village street. + +The air was filled with the appalling roar and scream of the flames; +showers of sparks were flung up against the black sky, as with a +tremendous crash the inside of one of the piles would collapse; and +still the engine did not come. + +"Hurry! hurry!" the women shouted with hoarse, terrified voices, and some +ran to the edge of the bluff and looked down at the river. + +The men were hurrying; but as they drew the long-unused engine from its +shed, an axle broke, and with stiff fingers they tried to mend it. Some +had had to run for axes to break the ice, and then they pushed and +jostled each other about the square hole they had cut, to dip up the +dark, swift water underneath; and all the while the sky behind them grew +a fiercer red, and the very ice glared with the leaping flames. At last, +pulling and pushing, they brought the little engine up the slope, and +then with a great shout dragged it into the outskirts of the yard. They +pumped furiously, and a small jet of water was played upon the nearest +pile of boards. A hissing cloud of steam almost hid the volunteer +firemen, but the flames leaped and tossed against the sky, and the sparks +were sucked up into the cold air, and whirled in sheets across the river. + +John Ward came breathlessly towards his wife. "Are you all right, Helen? +You seemed too near; come back a little further." Then, suddenly seeing +the woman beside her with the baby in her arms, he stopped, and looked +about. "Where's your boy, Mrs. Nevins?" he said. The woman glanced around +her. + +"I--I'm not just sure, preacher." + +"Have you seen him since six o'clock?" + +"No--I--I ain't," the woman answered. There was something in John's face +which terrified her, though the mere absence of her son gave her no +uneasiness. + +"Go back, Helen," he said, quickly,--"go as far as that second house, +or I shall not feel sure you are safe. Mrs. Nevins, we must look for +Charley. I am afraid--he was in the lumber-yard this afternoon"-- + +John did not wait to hear the woman's shriek; he turned and ran from +group to group, looking for the boy whom he had seen building block +houses on the pile of sawdust; but the mother, pushing her baby into +a neighbor's arms, ran up and down like a mad woman. + +"My boy!" she cried; "Charley! Charley! He's in the fire,--my boy's in +the fire!" + +Tom Davis had heard the hurried words of the preacher, and the mother's +cries roused all the manhood drink had left. He hesitated a moment, and +then pushing Molly towards the cripple whose taunts still rung in his +ears, "Take care of the brat!" he said, and pulling off his coat, which +he wrapped about his head to guard himself from the falling boards, he +stooped almost double, and with his left arm bent before his face, and +his right extended to feel his way, he ran towards the fire, and +disappeared in the blinding smoke. + +Even Mrs. Nevins was silenced for a moment of shuddering suspense; and +when she tossed her arms into the air again, and shrieked, it was because +John Ward came towards her with Charley trotting at his side. + +"You should have looked after the child," the preacher said sternly. "I +found him on the other side of the yard, near the fire-engine." + +Mrs. Nevins caught the boy in her arms in a paroxysm of rage and joy; and +then she thought of Tom. + +"Oh, preacher," she cried, "preacher! he's run in after him, Tom Davis +has!" + +"_There?_" John said, pointing to the fire. "God help him!" + +There was no human help possible. Tom had run down between two long piles +of boards, not yet in flames, but already a sheet of fire swept madly +across the open space. They could only look at each other, dumb with +their own helplessness, and wait. How long this horror of expectation +lasted no one knew, but at last, as if from the very mouth of hell, Tom +Davis came, staggering and swaying,--his singed coat still rolled about +his head, and his hands stretched blindly out. + +John Ward ran towards him, and even the cripple pressed forward to take +his hand. But with unseeing eyes he stood a moment, and then fell forward +on his face. They lifted him, and carried him back into the street, away +from the glare of light; there were plenty of kindly hands and pitying +words, for most of the crowd had gathered about him; even the men who had +brought the engine followed, for their efforts to subdue the fire were +perfectly futile. + +They laid him down on the stiff frozen grass by the roadside; but Molly +clung so tightly about his neck, that the preacher could scarcely move +her to put his hand upon Tom's heart; Helen lifted the little girl, and +laid her own wet cheek against the child's. + +The group of men and women stood awed and silent about the prostrate +form, waiting for John to raise his head from the broad, still breast; +when he lifted it, they knew all was over. + +Whether the shock of the heat and tumult, coming upon the stupor of +intoxication, and paralyzing the action of the heart, or whether a blow +from a burning plank, had killed him, no one could know. The poor sodden, +bloated body was suddenly invested with the dignity of death; and how +death had come was for a little while a secondary thought. + +"He is dead," John said. "He has died like a brave man!" + +He stood looking down at the body for some moments, and no one spoke. +Then, as there was a stir among those who stood near, and some one +whispered that Mrs. Davis must be told, the preacher looked away from +the dead man's face. + +"Poor soul," he said, "poor soul!" + +A few light flakes of snow were beginning to fall in that still, +uncertain way which heralds a storm; some touched the dead face with pure +white fingers, as though they would hide the degraded body from any eyes +less kind than God's. + +Helen, who had gone further back into the street that Molly might not +look again at her father, came to John's side. + +"I will take Molly home with me," she said; "tell Mrs. Davis where she +is." + +"Gifford is here to go with you?" John asked, with that quick tenderness +which never left him. Then he turned away to help in carrying the dead +man to his home. + +The silent procession, with its awful burden, went back through the +streets, lighted yet by the pulsing glare of the fire. John walked beside +the still figure with his head bent upon his breast. That first impulse +of human exultation in a brave deed was gone; there was a horror of pity +instead. Just before they reached Tom's home, he stopped, by a gesture, +the men who bore the body. + +"Oh, my people," he said, his hands stretched out to them, the snow +falling softly on his bared head, "God speaks to you from the lips of +this dead man. Listen to his words: the day or the hour knoweth no man; +and are you ready to face the judgment-seat of Christ? Oh, be not +deceived, be not deceived! Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also +reap." + +It was long past midnight when the knot of men about Tom Davis's door +dispersed; the excitement of the fire faded before that frank interest in +death, which such people have no hesitation in expressing. Society veils +it with decent reserve, and calls it morbid and vulgar, yet it is +ineradicably human, and circumstances alone decide whether it shall be +confessed. + +But when the preacher came out of the house, all was quiet and deserted. +The snow, driving in white sheets down the mountains, was tinged with a +faint glow, where, in a blinding mist it whirled across the yards; it had +come too late to save the lumber, but it had checked and deadened the +flames, so that the few unburned planks only smouldered slowly into +ashes. + +John had told Mrs. Davis of her loss with that wonderful gentleness which +characterized all his dealings with sorrow. He found her trying to quiet +her baby, when he went in, leaving outside in the softly falling snow +that ghastly burden which the men bore. She looked up with startled, +questioning eyes as he entered. He took the child out of her arms, and +hushed it upon his breast, and then, with one of her shaking hands held +firm in his, he told her. + +Afterwards, it seemed to her that the sorrow in his face had told her, +and that she knew his message before he spoke. + +Mrs. Davis had not broken into loud weeping when she heard her husband's +fate, and she was very calm, when John saw her again, after all had been +done which was needful for the dead; only moving nervously about, trying +to put the room into an unusual order. John could not bear to leave her; +knowing what love is, his sympathy for her grief was almost grief itself; +yet he had said all that he could say to comfort her, all that he could +of Tom's bravery in rushing into the fire, and it seemed useless to stay. +But as he rose to go, putting the child, who had fallen asleep in his +arms, down on the bed, Mrs. Davis stopped him. + +She stood straightening the sheet which covered Tom's face, creasing its +folds between her fingers, and pulling it a little on this side or that. + +"Mr. Ward," she said, "he was drunk, Tom was." + +"I know it," he answered gently. + +"He went out with some money this forenoon," she went on; "he was to buy +some things for the young ones. He didn't mean to drink; he didn't mean +to go near the saloon. I _know_ it. Mrs. Shea, she came in a bit after he +went, and she said she seen him comin' out of the saloon, drunk. But he +didn't mean it. Then you brought him home. But, bein' started, preacher, +he could not help it, an' he'd been round to Dobbs's again, 'fore he seen +the fire." + +"Yes," John said. + +Still smoothing the straight whiteness of the sheet, she said, with a +tremor in her voice:-- + +"If he didn't want to, preacher--if he didn't mean to--perhaps it wasn't +a sin? and him dying in it!" + +Her voice broke, and she knelt down and hid her face in the dead man's +breast. She did not think of him now as the man that beat her when he was +drunk, and starved the children; he was the young lover again. The dull, +brutal man and the fretful, faded woman had been boy and girl once, and +had had their little romance, like happier husbands and wives. + +John did not answer her, but a mist of tears gathered in his eyes. + +Mrs. Davis raised her head and looked at him. "Tell me, you don't think +it will be counted a sin to him, do you? You don't think he died in sin?" +she asked almost fiercely. + +"I wish I could say I did not," he answered. + +She threw her hands up over her head with a shrill cry. + +"You don't think he's lost? Say you don't, preacher,--say you don't!" + +John took her hands in his. "Try and think," he said gently, "how brave +Tom was, how nobly he faced death to save Charley. Leave the judgments +of God to God; they are not for us to think of." + +But she would not be put off in that way. Too weak to kneel, she had sunk +upon the floor, leaning still against the bed, with one thin, gaunt arm +thrown across her husband's body. + +"You think," she demanded, "that my Tom's lost because he was drunk +to-night?" + +"No," he said, "I do not think that, Mrs. Davis." + +"Is he saved?" she cried, her voice shrill with eagerness. + +John was silent. She clutched his arm with her thin fingers, and shook it +in her excitement; her pinched, terrified face was close to his. + +"He wasn't never converted,--I know that,--but would the Lord have cut +him off, sudden-like, in his sin, if He wasn't goin' to save him?" + +"We can only trust his wisdom and his goodness." + +"But you think he was cut off in his sins--you think--my Tom's lost!" + +The preacher did not speak, but the passionate pity in his eyes told her. +She put her hands up to her throat as though she were suffocating, and +her face grew ghastly. + +"Remember, God knows what is best for his children," John said. "He +sends this grief of Tom's death to you in his infinite wisdom. He loves +you,--He knows best." + +"Do you mean," asked the woman slowly, "that it was best fer Tom he +should die?" + +"I mean this sorrow may be best for you," he answered tenderly. "God +knows what you need. He sends sorrow to draw our souls nearer to Him." + +"Oh," she exclaimed, her voice broken and hoarse, "I don't want no good +fer me, if Tom has to die fer it. An' why should He love me instead o' +Tom? Oh, I don't want his love, as wouldn't give Tom another chance! He +might 'a' been converted this next revival, fer you would 'a' preached +hell,--I know you would, then. No, I don't want no good as comes that +way. Oh, preacher, you ain't going to say you think my Tom's burning in +hell this night, and me living to be made better by it? Oh, no, no, no!" +She crawled to his feet, and clasped his knees with her shaking arms. +"Say he isn't,--say he isn't!" + +But the presence of that dead man asserted the hopelessness of John's +creed; no human pity could dim his faith, and he had no words of comfort +for the distracted woman who clung to him. He could only lift her and try +to soothe her, but she did not seem to hear him until he put her baby in +her arms; at the touch of its little soft face against her drawn cheek, +she trembled violently, and then came the merciful relief of tears. She +did not ask the preacher again to say that her husband was not lost; she +had no hope that he would tell her anything but what she already knew. +"The soul that sinneth, it shall die." She tried, poor thing, to find +some comfort in the words he spoke of God's love for her; listening with +a pathetic silence which wrung his heart. + +When John left her, beating his way home through the blinding snow, his +face was as haggard as her own. He could not escape from the ultimate +conclusion of his creed,--"He that believeth not shall be damned." Yet he +loved and trusted completely. His confidence in God's justice could not +be shaken; but it was with almost a groan that he said, "O my God, my +God, justice and judgment are the habitation of thy throne; mercy and +truth shall go before thy face! But justice with mercy,--justice first!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +The snow fell all that night, but the day broke exquisitely clear upon a +white and shining world. The sky was blue and sparkling, and the keen +north wind had carved the drifts into wonderful overhanging curves, like +the curling crests of breakers. + +John Ward went early to Mrs. Davis's. The sharp agony of the night before +was over; there was even a momentary complacency at the importance of +death, for the room was full of neighbors, whose noisy sympathy drove her +despair of her husband's fate from her mind. But when she saw John, her +terror came back, and she began to be silent, and not so ready to tell +the story of the dead man's bravery to each one that entered. But with +the people who were not immediately affected, the excitement of Tom's +death could scarcely last. + +By the afternoon his widow was for the most part alone. Helen had thought +it would be so, and waited until then to go and see her. But first she +went into her kitchen, and she and Alfaretta packed a little basket with +cold meat, and sweet, snowy bread, and some jam, for the children. + +"They do say," Alfaretta said, as she tucked the corners of the napkin +under the wicker cover,--"they do say Tom Davis went straight to the bad +place, last night. He wasn't never converted, you know; but somehow, +seein' as he really thought he was going to save that Charley, seein' as +he died for him, as you might say, it don't seem like as if it was +just"--Alfaretta lowered her voice a little--"as if it was just--fair. Do +you think he went there, Mrs. Ward?" + +"I know he did not," Helen answered promptly. "I don't think about hell +quite as you do, Alfaretta. I cannot believe God punishes people +eternally; for if He is good, He could not be so cruel. Why, no human +being would be so cruel as that, and do you think we ought to believe +that men are better and kinder than God?" + +Alfaretta looked confused. "Well, but justice?" + +"Justice!" Helen said. "Would it be just if I put a little child where it +was certain to fall down, and then punish it for falling? The child did +not ask to be put there. So God puts us here, where we must sin; would it +be just to punish us eternally for his own work?" + +Alfaretta shook her head, and sighed. "Well, I don't know but yer right, +though the preacher don't say so." + +Helen did not speak for a moment, and then said quietly, "Perhaps +not,--not yet; but he will say so some day. He is so good himself, you +know, Alfaretta, he cannot bear to think every one else does not love and +serve God, too; and it seems to him as though they ought to be punished +if they don't." + +This was a very lame explanation, but it closed the discussion, and she +hurried away from the honest, searching eyes of her servant, which she +felt must see through the flimsy excuse. Her eyes burned with sudden +tears that blurred the white landscape, it hurt her to excuse her +husband's belief even to herself, and gave her a feeling of disloyalty to +him: for a moment she weakly longed to creep into the shelter of the +monstrous error in which she felt he lived, that they might be one there, +as in everything else. "Yet it does not matter," she said to herself, +smiling a little. "We love each other. We know we don't think alike on +doctrinal points, but we love each other." + +She stopped a moment at the lumber-yard. The ghastly blackness of the +ruin glared against the snow-covered hills and the dazzling blue of the +sky; here and there a puff of steam showed where the melting snow on the +cooler beams dripped on the hot embers below. Some scattered groups of +lumbermen and their forlorn wives braved the cold, and stood talking the +fire over, for, after all, it was the immediate interest; death would not +come to them for years, perhaps, but where were they going to get money +for their families during the spring? There could be no rafting down the +river until after the loggers had brought their rafts from up in the +mountains, to be sawed into planks. + +Alfaretta's father, who stood contemplating the ruins, and moralizing +when any one would stop to listen to him, had pointed this out. Mr. Dean +was a carpenter, and kept a grocery store as well, so he could pity the +lumbermen from the shelter of comparative affluence. When he saw the +preacher's wife, he came over to speak to her. + +"Well, ma'am," he said, "the dispensations of Providence is indeed +mysterious,--that the river should have been froze last night!" + +Mr. Dean had a habit of holding his mouth open a moment before he spoke, +and looking as though he felt that his listener was impatient for his +words, which were always pronounced with great deliberation. Helen had +very little patience with him, and used to answer his slowly uttered +remarks with a quickness which confused him. + +"It would be more mysterious if it were not frozen, at this time of +year," she replied, almost before he had finished speaking. She was in +haste to reach Mrs. Davis, and she had no time to hear Elder Dean's +platitudes. + +He began to open his beak-like mouth in an astonished way, when a +by-stander interrupted him: "I suppose this here sudden death in our +midst" (it was easy to fall into pious phraseology in the presence of +Elder Dean) "will be made the subject of the prayer-meeting to-night?" + +"It will," said Mr. Dean solemnly,--"it will. It is an awful example to +unbelievers. An' it is a lesson to the owners not to allow smoking in the +yards." Then, with a sharp look at Helen out of his narrow eyes, he +added, "I haven't seen you at prayer-meeting, lately, Mrs. Ward. It is a +blessed place, a blessed place: the Lord touches sinners' hearts with a +live coal from off his altar; souls have been taught to walk in the +light, in the light of God." Mr. Dean prolonged the last word in an +unctuous way, which he reserved for public prayer and admonition. + +Helen did not answer. + +But the elder was not rebuffed. "I hope we will see you soon," he said. +"A solemn season of revival is approaching. Why have you stayed away so +long, Mrs. Ward?" + +Annoyed at the impertinence of his questions, Helen's face flushed a +little. + +"I do not like the prayer-meeting," she answered quietly; but before the +elder could recover from the shock of such a statement, Mrs. Nevins had +come up to speak to him. + +"Have you seen Mrs. Davis yet, Mr. Dean?" she said. "She took on awful, +last night; the neighbors heard her. 'T was after twelve 'fore she was +quiet." + +"Yes, I saw her," responded the elder, shaking his head in a pompous way. +"I went to administer consolation. I'm just coming from there now. It is +an awful judgment on that man: no chance for repentance, overtook by +hell, as I told Mrs. Davis, in a moment! But the Lord must be praised for +his justice: that ought to comfort her." + +"Good heavens!" cried Helen, "you did not tell that poor woman her +husband was overtaken by hell?" + +"Ma'am," said Mr. Dean, fairly stuttering with astonishment at the +condemnation of her tone--"I--I--did." + +"Oh, shame!" Helen said, heedless of the listeners around them. "How +dared you say such a thing? How dared you libel the goodness of God? +Tom Davis is not in hell. A man who died to save another's life? Who +would want the heaven of such a God? Oh, that poor wife! How could you +have had the heart to make her think God was so cruel?" + +There was a dead silence; Elder Dean was too dumfounded to speak, and the +others, looking at Helen's eyes flashing through her tears of passionate +pain, were almost persuaded that she was right. They waited to hear more, +but she turned and hurried away, her breath quick, and a tightened +feeling in her throat. + +The elder was the first to break the spell of her words, but he opened +his lips twice before a sound came. "May the Lord forgive her! Tom Davis +not in hell? Why, where's the good of a hell at all, then?" + +Helen's heart was burning with sympathy for the sorrow which had been so +cruelly wounded. She had forgotten the reserve which respect for her +husband's opinions always enforced. "It is wicked to have said such a +thing!" she thought, as she walked rapidly along over the creaking snow. +"I will tell her it is not true,--it never could be true." + +The path through the ragged, unkempt garden in front of the tenement +house was so trodden that the snow was packed and hard. The gate swung +back with a jar and clatter, and two limp frosted hens flew shrieking out +from the shelter of the ash-heap behind it. The door was open, and Helen +could see the square of the entry, papered, where the plaster had not +been broken away, with pale green castles embowered in livid trees. On +either side was the entrance to a tenement; a sagging nail in one of the +door-posts held a coat and a singed and battered hat. Here Helen knocked. + +Mrs. Davis was in the small inner room, but came out as her visitor +entered, wiping the soapsuds from her bare arms on her dingy gingham +apron. On the other side of the room, opposite the door, was that awful +Presence, which silenced even the voices of the children. + +"I'm washing," the woman said, as she gave her hand to Helen. "It is +Tom's best shirt,--fer to-morrow." + +Helen took the hand, wrinkled and bleached with the work it had done, and +stroked it gently; she did not know what to say. This was not the grief +she had thought of,--a woman working calmly at her wash-tub, while her +husband lay dead in the next room. Helen could see the tub, with the mist +of steam about it, and the wash-board, and the bar of yellow soap. + +She followed Mrs. Davis back to her work, and sat down on a bench, out of +the way of a little stream of water which had dripped from the leaking +tub, and trickled across the floor. She asked about the children, and +said she had brought some food for them; she knew it was so hard to have +to think of housekeeping at such a time. + +But the widow scarcely listened; she stood lifting the shirt from the +water, and rubbing it gently between her hard hands, then dipping it back +into the suds again. Once she stopped, and drew the back of her wet hand +across her eyes, and once Helen heard her sigh; yet she did not speak of +her sorrow, nor of Elder Dean's cruel words. For a little while the two +women were silent. + +"Mrs. Davis," Helen said, at last, "I'm so sorry." + +It was a very simple thing to say, but it caught the woman's ear; it was +different from any of the sympathy to which, in a dull, hopeless way, she +had listened all that morning. The neighbors had sighed and groaned, and +told her it was "awful hard on her," and had pitied Tom for his terrible +death; and then Mr. Dean had come, with fearful talk of justice, and of +hell. + +A big tear rolled down her face, and dropped into the tub. "Thank you, +ma'am," she said. + +She made a pretense of turning towards the light of the one small window +to see if the shirt was quite clean; then she began to wring it out, +wrapping the twist of wet linen about her wrist. When she spoke again, +her voice was steady. + +"Elder Dean 'lows I oughtn't to be sorry; he says I'd ought to be +resigned to God's justice. He says good folks ought to be glad when +sinners go to the bad place, even if they're belonging to them. He 'lows +I'd oughtn't to be sorry." + +"I am sure you have a right to be sorry Tom is dead," Helen said,--the +woman's composure made her calm, too,--"but I do not believe he is in any +place now that need make you sorry. I do not believe what Elder Dean said +about--hell." + +Mrs. Davis looked at her, a faint surprise dawning in her tired eyes, and +shook her head. "Oh, I'm not sayin' that he ain't right. I'm not sayin' +Tom ain't in the bad place, ner that it ain't justice. I'm a Christian +woman. I was convicted and converted when I wasn't but twelve years old, +and I know my religion. Tom--he wasn't no Christian, he didn't ever +experience a change of heart: it was always like as if he was just going +to be converted, when he wasn't in drink; fer he was good in his heart, +Tom was. But he wasn't no Christian, an' I'm not sayin' he isn't lost. +I'm only sayin',"--this with a sudden passion, and knotting her tremulous +hands hard together,--"I'm only sayin' I can't love God no more! Him +havin' all the power--and then look at Tom an' me"-- + +Helen tried to speak, but Mrs. Davis would not listen. "No," she cried, +"yer the preacher's wife, but I must say it. He never give Tom a chance, +an' how am I goin' to love Him now? Tom,"--she pointed a shaking finger +at the coffin in the next room,--"born, as you might say, drinkin'. His +father died in a drunken fit, and his mother give it to her baby with her +milk. Then, what schoolin' did he get? Nothin', 'less it was his mother +lickin' him. Tom's often told me that. He hadn't no trade learned, +neither,--just rafted with men as bad as him. Is it any wonder he wasn't +converted?" + +"I know all that," Helen began to say gently, but Mrs. Davis could not +check the torrent of her despairing grief. + +"He didn't have no chance; an' he didn't ask to be born, neither. God put +him here, an' look at the way He made him live; look at this house; see +the floor, how the water runs down into that corner: it is all sagged an' +leanin'--the whole thing is rotten look at that one window, up against +the wall; not a ray of sunshine ever struck it. An' here's where God's +made us live. Six of us, now the baby's come. Children was the only thing +we was rich in, and we didn't have food enough to put in their mouths, or +decent clothes to cover 'em. Look at the people 'round us here--livin' in +this here row of tenements--drinkin', lying' swearin'. What chance had +Tom? God never give him any, but He could of, if He'd had a mind to. So +I can't love Him, Mrs. Ward,--I can't love Him; Him havin' all the power, +and yet lettin' Tom's soul go down to hell; fer Tom couldn't help it, and +him livin' so. I ain't denyin' religion, ner anything like that--I'm a +Christian woman, an' a member--but I can't love Him, so there's no use +talkin'--I can't love Him." + +She turned away and shook the shirt out, hanging it over the back of a +chair in front of the stove, to dry. Helen had followed her, and put her +arm across the thin, bent shoulders, her eyes full of tears, though the +widow's were hard and bright. + +"Oh, Mrs. Davis," she cried, "of course you could not love a God who +would never give Tom a chance and then punish him; of course you could +not love Him! But he is not punished by being sent to hell; indeed, +indeed, he is not. If God is good, He could not be so cruel as to give +a soul no chance, and then send it to hell. Don't ever think that Tom, +brave fellow, is there! Oh, believe what I say to you!" + +Mrs. Davis seemed stupefied; she looked up into those beautiful +distressed brown eyes, and her dry lips moved. + +"You don't think," she said, in a hoarse, hurried whisper--"you're not +saying--_Tom isn't in hell_?" + +"I know he is not, I know it! Justice? it would be the most frightful +injustice, because, don't you see," she went on eagerly, "it is just as +you said,--Tom had no chance; so God could not punish him eternally for +being what he had to be, born as he was, and living as he did. I don't +know anything about people's souls when they die,--I mean about going to +heaven,--but I do know this: as long as a soul lives it has a chance for +goodness, a chance to turn to God. There is no such place as hell!" + +"But--but"--the widow faltered, "he was cut off in his sins. The preacher +wouldn't say but he was lost!" Her words were a wail of despair. + +Helen groaned; she was confronted by her loyalty to John, yet the +suffering of this hopeless soul! "Listen," she said, taking Mrs. Davis's +hands in hers, and speaking slowly and tenderly, while she held the weak, +shifting eyes by her own steady look, "listen. I do not know what the +preacher would say, but it is not true that Tom is lost; it is not true +that God is cruel and wicked; it is not true that, while Tom's soul +lives, he cannot grow good." + +The rigid look in the woman's face began to disappear; her hopeless +belief was shaken, not through any argument, but by the mere force of the +intense conviction shining in Helen's eyes. + +"Oh," she said appealingly, and beginning to tremble, "are you true with +me, ma'am?" + +"I am true, indeed I am!" Helen answered, unconscious that her own tears +fell upon Mrs. Davis's hands; the woman looked at her, and suddenly her +face began to flush that painful red which comes before violent weeping. + +"If you're true, if you're right, then I can be sorry. I wouldn't let +myself be sorry while I couldn't have no hope. Oh, I can be that sorry it +turns me glad!" + +The hardness was all gone now; she broke into a storm of tears, saying +between her sobs, "Oh, I'm so glad--I'm so glad!" + +A long time the two women sat together, the widow still shaken by gusts +of weeping, yet listening hungrily to Helen's words, and sometimes even +smiling through her tears. The hardship of loss to herself and her +children was not even thought of; there was only intense relief from +horrible fear; she did not even stop to pity Tom for the pain of death; +coming out of that nightmare of hell, she could only rejoice. + +The early sunset flashed a sudden ruddy light through the window in the +front room, making a gleaming bar on the bare whitewashed wall, and +startling Helen with the lateness of the hour. + +"I must go now," she said, rising. "I will come again to-morrow." + +Mrs. Davis rose, too, lifting her tear-stained face, with its trembling +smile, towards her deliverer. "Won't you come in the other room a +minute?" she said. "I want to show you the coffin. I got the best I +could, but I didn't have no pride in it. It seems different now." + +They went in together, Mrs. Davis crying quietly. Tom's face was hidden, +and a fine instinct of possession, which came with the strange uplifting +of the moment, made his wife shrink from uncovering it. + +She stroked the varnished lid of the coffin, with her rough hands, as +tenderly as though the poor bruised body within could feel her touch. + +"How do you like it?" she asked anxiously. "I wanted to do what I could +fer Tom. I got the best I could. Mr. Ward give me some money, and I +spent it this way. I thought I wouldn't mind going hungry, afterwards. +You don't suppose,"--this with a sudden fear, as one who dreads to fall +asleep lest a terrible dream may return,--"you don't suppose I'll forget +these things you've been tellin' me, and think _that_ of Tom?" + +"No," Helen answered, "not if you just say to yourself that I told you +what Mr. Dean said was not true. Never mind if you cannot remember the +reasons I have given you,--I'll tell them all to you again; just try and +forget what the elder said." + +"I will try," she said; and then wavering a little, "but the preacher, +Mrs. Ward?" + +"The preacher," Helen answered bravely, "will think this way, too, some +day, I know." And then she made the same excuse for him which she had +given Alfaretta, with the same pang of regret. + +"Yes, ma'am," the woman said, "I see. I feel now as though I could love +God real hard 'cause He's good to Tom. But Mrs. Ward, the preacher must +be wonderful good, fer he can think God would send my Tom to hell, and +yet he can love Him! I couldn't do it." + +"Oh, he is good!" Helen cried, with a great leap of her heart. + +The wind blew the powdered snow about, as she walked home in the cold +white dusk, piling it in great drifts, or leaving a ridge of earth swept +bare and clean. The blackened lumber-yards were quite deserted in the +deepening chill which was felt as soon as the sun set; the melting snow +on the hot, charred planks had frozen into long icicles, and as she +stopped to look at the ruin one snapped, and fell with a splintering +crash. + +One of those strangely unsuggested remembrances flashed into her mind: +the gleam of a dove's white wing against the burning blue of a July sky, +the blaze of flowers in the rectory garden, and the subtle, penetrating +fragrance of mignonette. Perhaps the contrast of the intense cold and the +gathering night brought the scene before her; she sighed; if she and John +could go away from this grief and misery and sin, which they seemed +powerless to relieve, and from this hideous shadow of Calvinism! + +"After all," she thought, hurrying along towards home and John, "Mrs. +Davis is right,--it is hard to love Him. He does not give a chance to +every one; none of us can escape the inevitable past. And that is as hard +as to be punished unjustly. And there is no help for it all. Oh, where is +God?" + +Just as she left the lumber-yard district, she heard her name called, and +saw Gifford Woodhouse striding towards her. "You have been to those poor +Davises I suppose," he said, as he reached her side, and took her empty +basket from her hand. + +"Yes," she answered, sighing. "Oh, Gifford, how dreadful it all is,--the +things these people say, and really believe!" Then she told him of Elder +Dean, and a little of her talk with Mrs. Davis. Gifford listened, his +face growing very grave. + +"And that is their idea of God?" he said, as she finished. "Well, it is +mine of the devil. But I can't help feeling sorry you spoke as you did to +the elder." + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Well," he said, "to assert your opinion of the doctrine of eternal +damnation as you did, considering your position, Helen, was scarcely +wise." + +"Do you mean because I am the preacher's wife?" she remonstrated, +smiling. "I must have my convictions, if I am; and I could not listen to +such a thing in silence. You don't know John, if you think he would +object to the expression of opinion." Gifford dared not say that John +would object to the opinion itself. "But perhaps I spoke too forcibly; +I should be sorry to be unkind, even to Elder Dean." + +"Well," Gifford said doubtfully, "I only hope he may not feel called upon +to 'deal with you.'" + +They laughed, but the young man added, "After all, when you come to +think of it, Helen, there is no bigotry or narrowness which does not +spring from a truth, and nothing is truer than that sin is punished +eternally. It is only their way of making God responsible for it,--not +ourselves,--and arranging the details of fire and brimstone, which is so +monstrous. Somebody says that when the Calvinists decided on sulphur they +did not know the properties of caustic potash. But there are stages of +truth; there's no use knocking a man down because he is only on the first +step of the ladder, which you have climbed into light. I think belief in +eternal damnation is a phase in spiritual development." + +"But you don't really object to my protest?" she said. "Come, Giff, the +truth must be strong enough to be expressed." + +"I don't object to the protest," he answered slowly, "but I hope the +manner of it will not make things difficult for Mr. Ward." + +Helen laughed, in spite of her depression. "Why, Gifford," she said, "it +is not like you to be so apprehensive, and over so small a matter, too. +Mr. Dean has probably forgotten everything I said, and, except that I +mean to tell him, John would never hear a word about it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The winter was passing very quietly in Ashurst; the only really great +excitement was Helen's letter about the fire and Colonel Drayton's attack +of gout. + +Life went on as it had as far back as any one cared to remember, with the +small round of church festivals and little teas, and the Saturday evening +whist parties at the rectory. But under monotonous calm may lurk very +wearing anxiety, and this was the case in Ashurst. + +Mr. Denner endeavored, with but indifferent success, to conceal the +indecision which was still preying upon his mind. For the suggestion +gained from Jephtha had proved useless. He had, indeed, tried to act upon +it. A day or two after the thought had come to him which so interrupted +family prayers, Mr. Denner sallied forth to learn his fate. It was +surprising how particular he was about his linen that morning,--for he +went in the morning,--and he arrayed himself in his best clothes; he saw +no impropriety, considering the importance of the occasion, in putting on +his evening coat. He even wore his new hat, a thing he had not done more +than half a dozen times--at a funeral perhaps, or a fair--since he bought +it, three years before. + +It was a bright, frosty day, and the little gentleman stepped briskly +along the road towards the house of the two sisters. He felt as +light-hearted as any youth who goes a-wooing with a reasonable certainty +of a favorable answer from his beloved. He even sang a little to himself, +in a thin, sweet voice, keeping time with his stick, like a drum-major, +and dwelling faithfully on all the prolonged notes. + +"Believe me," sang Mr. Denner,-- + + "'Believe me, if all those endearing young charms + Which I gaze on so fondly to-day'"-- + +Mr. Denner's rendering of charms was very elaborate. But while he was +still lingering on the last word, disappointment overtook him. + +Coming arm in arm down the road were two small figures. Mr. Denner's +sight was not what it once was; he fumbled in the breast of his +bottle-green overcoat for his glasses, as a suspicion of the truth +dawned upon him. + +His song died upon his lips, and he turned irresolutely, as though to +fly, but it was too late; he had recognized at the same moment Miss +Deborah and Miss Ruth Woodhouse. By no possibility could he say which he +had seen first. + +He advanced to meet them, but the spring had gone from his tread and +the light from his eye; he was thrown back upon his perplexities. The +sisters, still arm in arm, made a demure little bow, and stopped to say +"Good-morning," but Mr. Denner was evidently depressed and absent-minded. + +"I wonder what's the matter with William Denner, sister?" Miss Ruth said, +when they were out of hearing. + +"Perhaps he's troubled about his housekeeping," answered Miss Deborah. +"I should think he might be, I must say. That Mary of his does keep him +looking so! And I have no doubt she is wasteful; a woman who is +economical with her needle and thread is pretty apt not to be saving in +other things." + +"What a pity he hasn't a wife!" commented Miss Ruth. "Adele Dale says +he's never been in love. She says that that affair with Gertrude Drayton +was a sort of inoculation, and he's been perfectly healthy ever since." + +"Very coarse in dear Adele to speak in that way," said Miss Deborah +sharply. "I suppose he never has gotten over Gertrude's loss. Yet, if his +sister-in-law had to die, it is a pity it wasn't a little sooner. He was +too old when she died to think of marriage." + +"But, dear Deborah, he is not quite too old even yet, if he found a +person of proper age. Not too young, and, of course, not too old." + +Miss Deborah did not reply immediately. "Well, I don't know; perhaps +not," she conceded. "I do like a man to be of an age to know his own +mind. That is why I am so surprised at Adele Dale's anxiety to bring +about a match between young Forsythe and Lois, they are neither of them +old enough to know their own minds. And it is scarcely delicate in Adele, +I must say." + +"He's a very superior young man," objected Miss Ruth. + +"Yes," Miss Deborah acknowledged; "and yet"--she hesitated a little--"I +think he has not quite the--the modesty one expects in a young person." + +"Yes, but think how he has seen the world, sister!" cried Miss Ruth. "You +cannot expect him to be just like other young people." + +"True," said Miss Deborah, nodding her head; "and yet"--it was evident +from her persistence that Miss Deborah had a grievance of some kind--"yet +he seems to have more than a proper conceit. I heard him talk about +whist, one evening at the rectory; he said something about a person,--a +Pole, I believe,--and his rules in regard to 'signaling.' I asked him if +he played," Miss Deborah continued, her hands showing a little angry +nervousness; "and he said, 'Oh, yes, I learned to play one winter in +Florida!' Learned to play in a winter, indeed! To achieve whist"--Miss +Deborah held her head very straight--"to achieve whist is the work +of a lifetime! I've no patience with a young person who says a thing like +that." + +Miss Ruth was silenced for a moment; she had no excuse to offer. + +"Adele Dale says the Forsythes are coming back in April," she said, at +last. + +"Yes, I know it," answered Miss Deborah. "I suppose it will all be +arranged then. I asked Adele if Lois was engaged to him;--she said, 'Not +formally.' But I've no doubt there's an understanding." + +Miss Deborah was so sure of this that she had even mentioned it casually +to Gifford, of course under the same seal of confidence with which it had +been told her. + +It was quite true that Dick and his mother were to return to Ashurst. +After storming out of the rectory library the night of the Misses +Woodhouse's dinner party, Dick had had a period of hatred of everything +connected with Ashurst; but that did not last more than a month, and was +followed by an imploring letter to Lois. Her answer brought the anger +back again, and then its reaction of love; this see-saw was kept up, +until his last letter had announced that he and his mother were coming +to take the house they had had before, and spend the summer. + +"We will come early," he wrote. "I cannot stay away. I have made mother +promise to open the house in April, so in a month more I shall see you. +I had an awful time to get her to come; she hates the country except in +summer, but at last she said she would. She knows why I want to come, and +she would be so happy if"--and then the letter trailed off into a wail of +disappointment and love. + +Impatient and worried, Lois threw the pages into the fire, and had a +malicious satisfaction in watching the elaborate crest curl and blacken +on the red coals. "I wish he'd stay away," she said; "he bothers me to +death. I hate him! What a silly letter!" + +It was so silly, she found herself smiling, in spite of her annoyance. +Now, to feel amusement at one's lover is almost as fatal as to be bored +by him. But poor Dick had no one to tell him this, and had poured out his +heart on paper, in spite of some difficulty in spelling, and could not +guess that he was laughed at for his pains. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were rewarded for their walk into Ashurst by a +letter from Gifford, which made them quite forget Mr. Denner's looks, and +Mrs. Dale's bad taste in being a matchmaker. + +He would be at home for one day the next week; business had called him +from Lockhaven, and on his way back he would stay a night in Ashurst. +The little ladies were flurried with happiness. Miss Deborah prepared +more dainties than even Gifford's healthy appetite could possibly +consume, and Miss Ruth hung her last painting of apple-blossoms in his +bedroom, and let her rose jar stand uncovered on his dressing-table for +two days before his arrival. When he came, they hovered about him with +small caresses and little chirps of affection, as though they would +express all the love of the months in which they had not seen him. + +Gifford had thought he would go to the rectory in the evening, and +somehow the companionship of his aunts while there had not occupied his +imagination; but it would have been cruel to leave them at home, so after +tea, having tasted every one of Miss Deborah's dishes, he begged them to +come with him to see Dr. Howe. They were glad to go anywhere if only with +him, and each took an arm, and bore him triumphantly to the rectory. + +"Bless my soul," said Dr. Howe, looking at them over his glasses, as they +came into the library, "it is good to see you again, young man! How did +you leave Helen?" He pushed his chair back from the fire, and let his +newspapers rustle to the floor, as he rose. Max came and sniffed about +Gifford's knees, and wagged his tail, hoping to be petted. Lois was the +only one whose greeting was constrained, and Gifford's gladness withered +under the indifference in her eyes. + +"She doesn't care," he thought while he was answering Dr. Howe, and +rubbing Max's ears with his left hand. "Helen may be right about +Forsythe, but she doesn't care for me, either." + +"Sit here, dear Giff," said Miss Ruth, motioning him to a chair at her +side. + +"There's a draught there, dear Ruth," cried Miss Deborah anxiously. "Come +nearer the fire, Gifford." But Gifford only smiled good-naturedly, and +leaned his elbow on the mantel, grasping his coat collar with one hand, +and listening to Dr. Howe's questions about his niece. + +"She's very well," he answered, "and the happiest woman I ever saw. Those +two people were made for each other, doctor." + +"Well, now, see here, young man," said the rector, who could not help +patronizing Gifford, "you'll disturb that happiness if you get into +religious discussions with Helen. Women don't understand that sort of +thing; young women, I mean," he added, turning to Miss Deborah, and then +suddenly looking confused. + +Gifford raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well, Helen will reason, you know; she +is not the woman to take a creed for granted." + +"She must," the rector said, with a chuckle, "if she's a Presbyterian. +She'll get into deep water if she goes to discussing predestination and +original sin, and all that sort of thing." + +"Oh," said Gifford lightly, "of course she does not discuss those things. +I don't think that sort of theological rubbish had to be swept out of her +mind before the really earnest questions of life presented themselves. +Helen is singularly free from the trammels of tradition--for a woman." + +Lois looked up, with a little toss of her head, but Gifford did not even +notice her, nor realize how closely she was following his words. + +"John Ward, though," Gifford went on, "is the most perfect Presbyterian +I can imagine. He is logical to the bitter end, which is unusual, I +fancy. I asked him his opinion concerning a certain man, a fellow named +Davis,--perhaps Helen wrote of his death--I asked Ward what he thought of +his chances for salvation; he acknowledged, sadly enough, that he thought +he was damned. He didn't use that word, I believe," the young man added, +smiling, "but it amounted to the same thing." + +There was an outcry from his auditors. "Abominable!" said Dr. Howe, +bringing his fist heavily down on the table. "I shouldn't have thought +that of Ward,--outrageous!" + +Gifford looked surprised. "What a cruel man!" Lois cried; while Miss +Deborah said suddenly,-- + +"Giff, dear, have those flannels of yours worn well?" But Gifford +apparently did not hear her. + +"Why, doctor," he remonstrated, "you misunderstand Ward. And he is not +cruel, Lois; he is the gentlest soul I ever knew. But he is logical, he +is consistent; he simply expresses Presbyterianism with utter truth, +without shrinking from its conclusions." + +"Oh, he may be consistent," the rector acknowledged, with easy transition +to good-nature, "but that doesn't alter the fact that he's a fool to +say such things. Let him believe them, if he wants to, but for Heaven's +sake let him keep silent! He can hold his tongue and yet not be a +Universalist. _Medio tutissimus ibis_, you know. It will be sure to +offend the parish, if he consigns people to the lower regions in such +a free way." + +"There is no danger of that," Gifford said; "I doubt if he could say +anything on the subject of hell too tough for the spiritual digestion of +his flock. They are as sincere in their belief as he is, though they +haven't his gentleness; in fact, they have his logic without his light; +there is very little of the refinement of religion in Lockhaven." + +"What a place to live!" Lois cried. "Doesn't Helen hate it? Of course she +would never say so to us, but she _must_! Everybody seems so dreadfully +disagreeable; and there is really no one Helen could know." + +"Why, Helen knows them all," answered Gifford in his slow way, looking +down at the girl's impulsive face. + +"Lois," said her father, "you are too emphatic in your way of speaking; +be more mild. I don't like gush." + +"Lois punctuates with exclamation points," Gifford explained +good-naturedly, meaning to take the sting out of Dr. Howe's reproof, +but hurting her instead. + +"But, bless my soul," said the rector, "what does Helen say to this sort +of talk?" + +"I don't think she says anything, at least to him;" Gifford answered. "It +is so unimportant to Helen, she is so perfectly satisfied with Ward, his +opinions are of no consequence. She did fire up, though, about Davis," +and then he told the story of Elder Dean and Helen's angry protest. + +Dr. Howe listened, first with grave disapproval, and then with positive +irritation. + +"Dean," Gifford concluded, "has taken it very much to heart; he told +me--he's a client of mine, a stupid idiot, who never reasoned a thing out +in his life--he told me that 'not to believe in eternal damnation was to +take a short cut to atheism.' He also confided to me that 'a church which +could permit such a falling from the faith was in a diseased condition.' +I don't believe that opinion has reached Ward, however. It would take +more grit than Dean possesses to dare to find fault with John Ward's wife +to her husband." + +"What folly!" cried the rector, his face flushed with annoyance. "What +possessed Helen to say such a thing! She ought to have had more sense. +Mark my words, that speech of hers will make trouble for Ward. I don't +understand how Helen could be so foolish; she was brought up just as Lois +was, yet, thank Heaven, her head isn't full of whims about reforming a +community. What in the world made her express such an opinion if she had +it, and what made her have it?" + +Dr. Howe had risen, and walked impatiently up and down the room, and now +stood in front of Gifford, with a forefinger raised to emphasize his +words. "There is something so absurd, so unpleasant, in a young woman's +meddling with things which don't belong to her, in seeing a little mind +struggle with ideas. Better a thousand times settle down to look after +her household, and cook her husband's dinner, and be a good child." + +Lois laughed nervously. "She has a cook," she said. + +"Don't be pert, Lois, for Heaven's sake," answered her father, though +Miss Deborah had added,-- + +"Gifford says dear Helen is a very good housekeeper." + +"Pray," continued the rector, "what business is it of hers what people +believe, or what she believes herself, for that matter, provided she's a +good girl, and does her duty in that station of life where it has pleased +God to put her,--as the wife of a Presbyterian minister? 'Stead of that +she tries to grapple with theological questions, and gets into hot water +with the parish. 'Pon my word, I thought better of the child! I'll write +and tell her what I think of it." (And so he did, the very next day. But +his wrath had expended itself in words, and his letter showed no more of +his indignation than the powdery ashes which fell out of it showed the +flame of the cigar he was smoking when he wrote it.) "And as for Ward +himself," the rector went on, "I don't know what to think of him. Did you +know he had given up his salary? Said 'Helen had enough for them to live +on,' and added that they had no right to any more money than was +necessary for their comfort; anything more than that belonged to the +Lord's poor. Bless my soul, the clergyman comes under that head, to my +mind. Yes, sir, he's willing to live on his wife! I declare, the fellow's +a--a--well, I don't know any word for him!" + +There was a chorus of astonishment from the ladies. + +"'Christian' would be a pretty good word," said Gifford slowly. "Isn't he +following Christ's example rather more literally than most of us?" + +"But to live on his wife!" cried Dr. Howe. + +"I don't believe," Gifford responded, smiling, "that that would distress +John Ward at all." + +"Apparently not," said the rector significantly. + +"He loves her too much," Gifford went on, "to think of himself apart from +her; don't you see? They are one; what difference does it make about the +money?" + +"Could you do it?" asked Dr. Howe. + +"Well, no," Gifford said, shrugging his shoulders; "but then, I'm not +John Ward." + +"Thank Heaven!" said the rector devoutly. + +"But it is a mistake, all the same," Gifford went on; "it is +unbusiness-like, to say nothing of being bad for his people to have the +burden of support lifted from them; it pauperizes them spiritually." + +After the relief of this outburst against John Ward, Dr. Howe felt the +inevitable irritation at his hearers. "Well, I only mention this," he +said, "because, since he is so strange, it won't do, Gifford, for you to +abet Helen in this ridiculous skepticism of hers. If Ward agreed with +her, it would be all right, but so long as he does not, it will make +trouble between them, and a woman cannot quarrel with an obstinate and +bigoted man with impunity. And you have no business to have doubts +yourself, sir." + +The two sisters were much impressed with what the rector said. "I must +really caution Giff," said Miss Deborah to Lois, "not to encourage dear +Helen in thinking about things; it's very unfeminine to think, and +Gifford is so clever, he doesn't stop to remember she's but a woman. And +he is greatly attached to her; dear me, he has never forgotten what might +have been,"--this in almost a whisper. + +Both the sisters talked of Dr. Howe's anger as they went home. + +"He's right," said Miss Deborah, who had dropped her nephew's arm, so +that she might be more cautious about the mud, and who lifted her skirt +on each side, as though she was about to make a curtsy,--"he's right: a +woman ought to think just as her husband does; it is quite wrong in dear +Helen not to, and it will bring unhappiness. Indeed, it is a lesson to +all of us," she added. + +Respect was an instinct with Gifford, and he did not stop to think that +it was a lesson by which Miss Deborah would have no opportunity to +profit. + +But he was not listening closely to the chatter of the little ladies; he +was thinking of Lois's indifference. "She even looked bored, once," he +thought; "but that does not necessarily mean that she cares for Forsythe. +I will trust her. She may never love me, but she will never care for +him." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The feeling in Lockhaven about Helen Ward's unbelief was not confined to +Elder Dean; for every one who knew Mrs. Davis knew what the preacher's +wife thought of Tom's salvation, and judged her accordingly. As for the +widow herself, the hope Helen had given her quite died out under the +fostering care of Elder Dean. She grew more bitter than ever, and refused +even to speak on the subject. + +"No, ma'am," she said wearily, when Helen went to see her after the +funeral,--"no, ma'am, 'tain't no use to talk. Elder Dean's been here, and +I know there ain't no good hopin'. Even the preacher don't say there's +any good hopin'. What you said was a comfort, ma'am, but 'twasn't true. +'Twasn't religion. It's in the Bible that there's a hell, and there's no +use sayin' there isn't; sayin' there isn't won't keep us from it, Elder +Dean says, and I guess he's about right. I'm sure I'm much obliged to +you, ma'am; but I'm a Christian woman myself, and I can't deny religion." + +There was no use arguing; custom and a smattering of logic settled her +convictions, and no reasoning could move her dreary hopelessness. + +Helen told John of it, her head resting on his breast, and comforted by +his mere presence. "I know you believe in hell," she ended, "but, oh, +John, it is so horrible!" + +He stroked her hair softly. "I am afraid, dearest," he said, "Mrs. Davis +is right. I am afraid there is no possibility of hope. The soul that +sinneth, it shall die, and shall not the Judge of all the earth do +right?" + +Helen sprang to her feet. "Oh," she cried passionately,--"that is just +it,--He does do right! Why, if I thought God capable of sending Tom to +hell, I should hate Him." John tried to speak, but she interrupted him. +"We will never talk of this again, never! Believe what you will, +dearest,--it does not matter,--but don't speak of it to me, if you +love me. I cannot bear it, John. Promise me." + +"Oh, Helen," he said, with tender reproach, "would you have me conceal my +deepest life from you? It would seem like living apart, if there were one +subject on which we dared not touch. Just let me show you the truth and +justice of all this; let me tell you how the scheme of salvation makes +the mystery of sin and punishment clear and right." + +"No," she said, the flush of pain dying out of her face, but her eyes +still shining with unshed tears,--"no, I cannot talk of it. I should be +wicked if I could believe it; it would make me wicked. Don't ever speak +to me of it, John." + +She came and put her arms around him, and kissed his forehead gently; and +then she left him to struggle with his conscience, and to ask himself +whether his delay had caused this feeling of abhorrence, or whether the +waiting had been wise and should be prolonged. + +But Helen's words to Mrs. Davis were repeated, and ran from mouth to +mouth, with the strangest additions and alterations. Mrs. Ward had said +that there was no hell, and no heaven, and no God. What wonder, then, +with such a leaven of wickedness at work in the church, Elder Dean grew +alarmed, and in the bosom of his own family expressed his opinion of Mrs. +Ward, and at prayer-meeting prayed fervently for unbelievers, even though +she was not there to profit by it. Once, while saying that the preacher's +wife was sowing tares among the wheat, he met with an astonishing rebuff. +Alfaretta dared tell her father that he ought to be ashamed of himself to +talk that way about a saint and an angel, if ever there was one. + +Mr. Dean was staggered; a female, a young female, and his daughter, to +dare to say such a thing to him! He opened his mouth several times before +he was able to speak. + +Alfaretta was at home for her evening out, and her young man was with +her, anxious for the clock to point to nine, that he might "see her +home." They had intended to leave the elder's early, and wander off for +a walk by the river, but prayers were delayed a little, and after that +Alfaretta had to listen to the good advice given every week; so Thaddeus +lost all hope of the river-walk, and only watched for nine o'clock, +when he knew she must start. But in this, too, he was doomed to +disappointment, for the outburst which so stunned the elder detained +Alfaretta until after ten, thereby causing Helen no little anxiety +about her prompt and pretty maid. + +The elder had closed his admonitions by warning his daughter not to +be listening to any teachings of the preacher's wife, for she was +a backslider, and she had fallen from grace. "In the first place," +said the elder, laying down the law with uplifted hand, "she's a +Episcopalian,--I heard her say that herself, when she first come here; +and her letter of dismissal was from a church with some Popish name,--St. +Robert or Stephen,--I don't just remember. I've seen one of those +churches. Thank the Lord, there isn't one in Lockhaven. They have candles +burnin', and a big brass cross. Rags of Popery,--they all belong to the +Scarlet Woman, I tell you! But she's a backslider even from that, fer +they have some truth; she's a child of the Evil One, with her unbelief!" + +This was more than Alfaretta could bear. "Indeed, pa," she cried, "you +don't know how good she is, or you wouldn't be sayin' that! Look how +she's slaved this winter fer the families that 'a' been in trouble, +havin' no work!" + +"'Tain't what she's done, Alfaretta," said her father solemnly; "works +without faith is of no avail. What says the Scripture? 'A man is +justified by faith' (by faith, Alfaretta!) 'without the deeds of the +law.' And what says the confession?" + +Alfaretta, by force of habit, began to stumble through the answer: "'We +cannot by our best works merit pardon of sin, or eternal life at the +hand--at the hand--of God, by reason of'"--Here her memory failed her. + +"Well," her father said impatiently, "can't you remember the rest? 'Works +done by unregenerate men are sinful, and cannot please God,' you know. +Go on." + +But Alfaretta could not go on, and the elder would not betray his own +lack of memory by attempting to quote. + +"So you see," he continued, "it isn't any use to talk of how good and +kind she is, or what she does; it is what she believes that will settle +her eternal salvation." + +But Alfaretta was unconvinced. "Well, sir," she said stubbornly, "it +don't seem to me that way, fer she's the best woman, except mother, I +ever saw. I reckon if anybody goes to heaven, she will; don't you, +Thaddeus?" + +Thaddeus was tilting back in his chair, his curly black head against the +whitewashed wall, and thus suddenly and embarrassingly appealed to--for +he was divided between a desire to win the approval of the elder and to +show his devotion to Alfaretta--he brought his chair down with a clatter +of all four legs on the floor, and looked first at the father and then at +the daughter, but did not speak. + +"Don't you, Thaddeus?" repeated Alfaretta severely, for the elder was +dumb with astonishment. + +"Well," said Thaddeus, struggling for some opinion which should please +both,--"well, I do suppose we can hope for the best; that isn't against +the catechism." + +But the elder did not notice his feeble compromise, while Alfaretta only +gave him a quick, contemptuous look, for her father, opening and shutting +his mouth slowly for a moment, began to say,-- + +"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a child that's +ungrateful for the best of teaching and sound doctrine! Many's the time," +said the elder, lifting his eyes and hands,--"many's the time I've showed +her the truth; many's the time I've explained how every other sort of +religion is all wrong, and is of its father the Devil! And I've brought +her up faithful to the catechism and the confession, yet now the child +would instruct the parent! This comes," he cried, becoming very angry, +and beating his hand so violently upon the table that the family Bible +fell with a crash to the floor, from which Thaddeus lifted it,--"this +comes from your settin' in the seat of the scornful, and bein' in the +kitchen of an unbeliever! You'll leave her; do you hear me, Alfaretta? +You'll leave her this day month. I'll perform my duty to my child's soul, +even if Brother Ward's wife has to do her own cooking. Yes, and I'll do +my duty to Brother Ward, too, though I used to think him a pious young +man. I'll tell him he has got to convert that woman's soul She's a +corrupter of youth, she's a teacher of false doctrines,--her tellin' Mrs. +Davis there wasn't any hell!--she's a--a Episcopalian, so she is! She'll +experience a change of heart, or the Session will take this matter in +hand." + +At this terrible threat, even Alfaretta was speechless, and her mother +put two shaking hands on her arm, and whispered, "Oh, Retta, I wouldn't +say no more; it makes your pa angry." + +"Yes," continued the elder violently, "that woman is the Jonah of the +church, and she's got to be dealt with; to save her soul, she's got to be +disciplined, for the sake of every one that heard her false and lying +tongue. I'll have her brought before the Session and showed the truth, +and she shall be saved. Tom Davis not in hell, indeed!" + +Mr. Dean stopped for breath. Alfaretta's courage came back with a rush. + +"Listen to me," cried the young woman, stamping her foot with excitement, +for she was as angry as the elder himself,--"listen to me! How can you +say such things about her? A saint and angel, if ever there was one. The +Lord don't send no one to hell, let alone such as her. An' any way, I'd +rather go to the bad place with her than stay with all the golden harps +and crowns in the best sort of a heaven with them as would keep her out, +so I would!" + +Here Alfaretta broke down, and began to cry. Thaddeus could not stand +that; he edged up to her, murmuring, "I wouldn't cry, Retta,--I wouldn't +cry." + +But she only gave the shoulder he touched a vicious shake, and cried +harder than ever, saying, "No--I--I bet you wouldn't--you'd never--care." + +But Alfaretta's defense changed Mr. Dean's anger at the snub he received +from the preacher's wife into real alarm for his child's spiritual +welfare. A daughter of his to say the Lord did not send souls to hell! + +"Alfaretta," he said, with solemn slowness, "you'd better get your bunnet +and go home. I'll see Mr. Ward about this; his wife's done harm enough. +You've got to leave her,--I mean it. I won't see her send my child to +hell before my very eyes." + +"Oh, pa," Alfaretta entreated, choking and sobbing, and brushing her +tears away with the back of her hand, "don't,--don't say nothin' to Mr. +Ward, nor take me away. 'Twasn't her made me say those things; it was +just my own self. Don't take me away." + +"Did she ever say anything to you about the Lord not sendin' people to +hell?" asked her father. + +"Oh," said Alfaretta, growing more and more frightened, "'tain't what she +talks about; it's her bein' so good, an'"-- + +"Did she ever," interrupted the elder, with slow emphasis, standing over +her, and shaking his stubby forefinger at her,--"did she ever say the +Lord didn't send Tom Davis to hell, to you?" + +Alfaretta cowered in her chair, and Thaddeus began to whimper for +sympathy. "I don't know," she answered desperately,--"I don't know +anything, except she's good." + +"Listen to me," said Mr. Dean, in his harsh, monotonous voice: "did Mrs. +Ward ever say anything to you about hell, or the Lord's not sendin' +people there? Answer me that." + +Then the loving little servant-maid, truthful as the blood of Scotch +ancestors and a Presbyterian training could make her, faced what she knew +would bring remorse, and, for all she could tell, unpardonable sin upon +her soul, and said boldly, "No, she never did. She never said one single +blessed word to me about hell." + +The wind seemed suddenly to leave the elder's sails, but the collapse was +only for a moment; even Alfaretta's offering of her first lie upon the +altar of her devotion to her mistress was not to save her. + +"Well," he said, opening his mouth slowly and looking about with great +dignity, "if she hasn't said it to you, she has to other people, I'll be +bound. Fer she said it to Mrs. Davis, and"--the elder inflated his chest, +and held his head high--"and me. It is my duty as elder to take notice of +it, fer her own soul's sake, and to open her husband's eyes, if he's been +too blind to see it. Yes, the Session should deal with her. Prayers ain't +no good fer such as her," he said, becoming excited. "Ain't she heard my +prayers most all winter, till she give up comin' to prayer-meetin', +preferrin' to stay outside, + + "'Where sinners meet, and awful scoffers dwell'? + +An' I've exhorted; but"--the elder raised his eyes piously to +heaven--"Paul may plant and Apollos may water, but it don't do no good." + +Alfaretta knew her father's iron will too well to attempt any further +protests. She wiped her eyes, and, while she put on a hat adorned with an +aggressive white feather, she bade the family good-night in an unsteady +voice. Thaddeus, anxious only to escape notice, sidled towards the door, +and stood waiting for her, with a deprecating look on his round face. + +In spite, however, of the elder's indignation and his really genuine +alarm about the influences which surrounded his child, he had a prudent +afterthought in the matter of her leaving the service of Mrs. Ward. It +was difficult to get anything in Lockhaven for a young woman to do, and +times were hard that year. + +"You--ah--you needn't give notice to-night, Alfaretta," he said. "I'll +speak to the preacher about it, myself. But mind you have as little to +say to her as you can, and may the Lord protect you!" + +But the elder's plans for cautioning his pastor were doomed to +disappointment. He was a prisoner with lumbago for the next fortnight, +and even the most sincere interest in some one else's spiritual welfare +cannot tempt a man out of the house when he is bent almost double with +lumbago. Nor, when John came to see him, could he begin such a +conversation as he had planned, for his neck was too stiff to allow him +to raise his head and look in Mr. Ward's face. When he recovered, he was +delayed still another week, because the preacher had gone away to General +Assembly. + +But Alfaretta was far too miserable to find in her father's command "not +to give notice to-night" any ray of comfort. She choked down her tears as +best she might, and started for the parsonage. + +Thaddeus had almost to run to keep up with her, such was her troubled and +impatient haste, and she scarcely noticed him, though he tramped through +the mud to show his contrition, instead of taking his place by her side +on the board walk. + +It is curious to see how a simple soul inflicts useless punishment upon +itself, when the person it has offended refuses to retaliate. Had +Alfaretta scolded, Thaddeus would not have walked in the mud. + +Her silence was most depressing. + +"Retta," he ventured timidly, "don't be mad with me,--now don't." + +He came a little nearer, and essayed to put an arm about her waist, a +privilege often accorded him on such an occasion. But now she flounced +away from him and said sharply, "You needn't be comin' round me, Mr. +Thaddeus Green. Anybody that thinks my Mrs. Ward isn't goin' to heaven +had just better keep off from me, fer I'm goin' with her, wherever that +is; and I suppose, if you think _that_ of me, you'd better not associate +with me." + +"I didn't say _you_ was goin'," protested Thaddeus tearfully, but she +interrupted him with asperity. + +"Don't I tell you I'm bound to go where she goes? And if you're so +fearful of souls bein' lost, I wonder you don't put all your money in the +missionary-box, instead of buying them new boots." + +Perhaps it was the thought of the new boots, but Thaddeus stepped on the +board walk, and this time, unreproved, slipped his arm about Alfaretta's +waist. + +"Oh, now Retta," he said, "I didn't mean any harm. I only didn't want the +elder thinkin' I wasn't sound, for he'd be sayin' we shouldn't keep +company, an' that's all I joined the church for last spring." + +"Well, then," said Alfaretta, willing to be reconciled if it brought any +comfort, "you do think Mrs. Ward will go to heaven?" + +"Yes," Thaddeus answered with great confidence, and added in a burst of +gallantry, "She'll have to, Retta, if she goes along with you, for you'll +go there sure!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Mrs. Forsythe did not come to Ashurst until the middle of April, and then +she came alone. Dick had been detained, she said, and would come in a +week or two. So Lois breathed freely, though she knew it was only a +respite, and made the most of her freedom to go and see his mother. + +She was very fond of the invalid, who always seemed to her, in her +glowing, rosy health, like an exquisite bit of porcelain, she was so +fine and dainty, with soft white hair curling around her gentle and +melancholy face. Mrs. Forsythe dressed in delicate grays and lavenders, +and her fingers were covered with rings, and generally held some filmy +fancy-work. Her invalidism had only given her an air of interesting +fragility, which made Lois long to put her strong young arms about her, +to shield her lest any wind might blow too roughly upon her. + +Mrs. Forsythe accepted her devotion with complacency. She had never had +this adoring tenderness from her son, who had heard her remark that she +was at the gates of death too often to live in a state of anxiety; but +to Lois her gentle resignation and heavenly anticipations were most +impressive. The girl's affection almost reconciled the elder lady to +having been made to come to Ashurst while the snow still lingered in +sheltered spots, and before the crocuses had lighted their golden censers +in her garden; for Lois went to see her every day, and though she could +not always escape without a meaning look from the invalid, or a sigh for +Dick's future, she thoroughly enjoyed her visits. It was charming to sit +in the dusk, before the dancing flames of an apple-wood fire, the air +fragrant with the hyacinths and jonquils of the window garden, and listen +to tales of Mrs. Forsythe's youth. + +Lois had never heard such stories. Mrs. Dale would have said it was not +proper for young girls to know of love affairs, and it is presumable that +the Misses Woodhouse never had any to relate; so this was Lois's first +and only chance, and she would sit, clasping her knees with her hands, +listening with wide, frank eyes, and cheeks flushed by the fire and the +tale. + +"But then, my poor health," Mrs. Forsythe ended with a sigh, one evening, +just before it was time for Lois to go; "of course it interfered very +much." + +"Why, were you ill _then_," Lois said, "when you used to dance all +night?" + +"Oh, dear me, yes," answered the other shaking her head, "I have been a +sufferer all my life, a great sufferer. Well, it cannot last much longer; +this poor body is almost worn out." + +"Oh, _don't_ say it!" Lois cried, and kissed the white soft hand with its +shining rings, in all the tenderness of her young heart. + +All this endeared the girl very much, and more than once Mrs. Forsythe +wrote of her sweetness and goodness to her son. Miss Deborah, or Miss +Ruth, or even Mrs. Dale, would have been careful in using the name of any +young woman in writing to a gentleman, but Mrs. Forsythe had not been +born in Ashurst. + +However, Dick still lingered, and Lois rejoiced, and even her +anticipation of the evil time to come, when he should arrive and end her +peaceful days, could not check her present contentment. It was almost +May, and that subtile, inexplainable joy of the springtime made it a +gladness even to be alive. Lois rambled about, hunting for the first +green spears of that great army of flowers which would soon storm the +garden, and carrying any treasure she might find to Mrs. Forsythe's +sick-room. The meadows were spongy with small springs, bubbling up under +the faintly green grass. The daffadown-dillies showed bursting yellow +buds, and the pallid, frightened-looking violets brought all their +mystery of unfolding life to the girl's happy eyes. + +One Saturday morning, while she was looking for the bunch of grape +hyacinths which came up each year, beside the stone bench, she was +especially light-hearted. Word had come from Helen that the long-promised +visit should be made the first week in June. "It can only be for a week, +you know," Helen wrote, "because I cannot be away from John longer than +that, and I must be back for our first anniversary, too." + +More than this, Mrs. Forsythe had sighed, and told her that poor dear +Dick's business seemed to detain him; it was such a shame! And perhaps he +could not get to Ashurst for a fortnight. So Lois Howe was a very happy +and contented girl, standing under the soft blue of the April sky, and +watching her flock of white pigeons wheeling and circling about the gable +of the red barn, while the little stream, which had gained a stronger +voice since the spring rains, babbled vociferously at her side. The long, +transparent stems of the flowers broke crisply between her fingers, as +she heard her name called. + +Mr. Denner, with his fishing-basket slung under one arm and his rod +across his shoulder, was regarding her through a gap in the hedge. + +"A lovely day!" said the little gentleman, his brown eyes twinkling with +a pleasant smile. + +"Indeed it is, sir," Lois answered; "and look at the flowers I've found!" + +She tipped the basket of scented grass on her arm that he might see them. +Mr. Denner had stopped to ask if Mrs. Forsythe would be present at the +whist party that night, and was rather relieved to learn that she was not +able to come; he had lost his hand the week before, because she had +arrived with the Dales. Then he inquired about her son's arrival, and +went away thinking what a simple matter a love affair was to some people. +Lois and that young man! Why, things were really arranged for them; they +had almost no responsibility in the matter; their engagement settled +itself, as it were. + +He walked abstractedly towards his house, wrestling with the old puzzle. +Nothing helped him, or threw light on his uncertainty; he was tired of +juggling with fate, and was growing desperate. + +"I wish they would settle it between themselves," he murmured, with a +wistful wrinkle on his forehead. Suddenly a thought struck him; there was +certainly one way out of his difficulties: he could ask advice. He could +lay the whole matter frankly before some dispassionate person, whose +judgment should determine his course. Why had he not thought of it +before! Mr. Denner's face brightened; he walked gayly along, and began +to hum to himself:-- + + "Oh, wert thou, love, but near me, + But near, near, near me, + How fondly wouldst thou cheer me"-- + +Here he stopped abruptly. Whom should he ask? He went carefully through +his list of friends, as he trudged along the muddy road. + +Not Dr. Howe: he did not take a serious enough view of such things; Mr. +Denner recalled that scene in his office, and his little face burned. +Then, there was Mrs. Dale: she was a woman, and of course she would know +the real merit of each of the sisters. Stay: Mrs. Dale did not always +seem in sympathy with the Misses Woodhouse; he had even heard her say +things which were not, perhaps, perfectly courteous; that the sisters had +been able to defend themselves, Mr. Denner overlooked. Colonel Drayton: +well, a man with the gout is not the confidant for a lover. He was +beginning to look depressed again, when the light came. Henry Dale! No +one could be better. + +Mr. Denner awaited the evening with impatience. He would walk home with +the Dales, he thought, and then he and Henry could talk it all over, down +in the study. + +He was glad when the cool spring night began to close, full of that +indefinable fragrance of fresh earth and growing things, and before it +was time to start he cheered himself by a little music. He went into the +dreary, unused parlor, and pulling up the green Venetian blinds, which +rattled like castanets, he pushed back the ivy-fastened shutters, and sat +down by the open window; then, with his chin resting upon his fiddle, and +one foot in its drab gaiter swinging across his knee, he played +mournfully and shrilly in the twilight, until it was time to start. + +He saw the Misses Woodhouse trotting toward the rectory, with Sarah +walking in a stately way behind them, swinging her unlighted lantern, and +cautioning them not to step in the mud. But he made no effort to join +them; it was happiness enough to contemplate the approaching solution of +his difficulties, and say to himself triumphantly, "This time to-morrow!" +and he began joyously to play, "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," +rendering carefully all the quavers in that quavering air. + +Mr. Denner's meditations made him late at the rectory, and he felt Mrs. +Dale look sternly at him; so he made haste to deal, sitting well forward +in his chair, under which he tucked his little feet, and putting down +each card with nervous care. His large cuffs almost hid his small, thin +hands, and now and then he paused to rub his thumb and forefinger +together, that the cards might not stick. + +But Mr. Denner did not play well that night; Miss Deborah looked at him +with mild reproach, and was almost angry when he answered her with an +absent smile. + +The evening seemed very long to Mr. Denner, and even when the party had +said "Good-night" Mr. Dale was slow about getting off; he put his wife +into the carriage, and then stopped to ask Dr. Howe if he had the first +edition of "Japhet in Search of a Father"? + +"In search of a father!" Mr. Denner thought, as he stood waiting by the +steps,--"how can he be interested in that?" + +At last the front door closed, and Mr. Dale and Mr. Denner walked +silently down the lane in the starlight, the lawyer's little heart +beating so with excitement, that he had a suffocated feeling, and once +or twice put his hand to his throat, as though to loosen his muffler. + +Mr. Dale, still absorbed in his first edition, took swinging strides, the +tails of his brown cloth overcoat flapping and twisting about his long, +thin legs. Mr. Denner had now and then almost to break into a trot to +keep up with him. + +Mr. Dale walked with his hands clasped behind him, and his stick under +his arm; his soft felt hat was pulled down over his eyes, so that his +keeping the path was more by chance than sight. He stopped once to pluck +a sprig from the hawthorn hedge, to put between his lips. This gave Mr. +Denner breath, and a chance to speak. + +"I think I will walk home with you, Henry," he said. "I want to have a +talk with you." + +His heart thumped as he said that; he felt he had committed himself. + +"Well, now, that's very pleasant," responded Mr. Dale. "I was just +thinking I should be alone half the way home." + +"But you would not be alone when you got there," Mr. Denner said +meditatively; "now, with me it is different." + +"Oh, quite different,--quite different." + +"Yes," proceeded the other, "I have very little companionship. I go home +and sit in my library all by myself. Sometimes, I get up and wander about +the house, with only my cigar for company." + +"I suppose," said Mr. Dale, "that you can smoke wherever you want, in +your house? I often think of your loneliness; coming and going just as +you please, quite independently." + +Mr. Denner gave him a sudden questioning look, and then appeared to +reproach himself for having misunderstood his friend. + +"Yes, just so,--just so. I knew you would appreciate it; but you can +never know from experience, Henry, how a man feels left quite to himself. +You do not think of the independence; it is the loneliness. You cannot +know that." + +"No," murmured Mr. Dale, "perhaps not, but I can imagine it." + +When they reached the iron gate of Dale house, they followed the trim +path across the lawn to the north side of the house, where it ended in +a little walk, three bricks wide, laid end to end, and so damp with +perpetual shade, they were slippery with green mould, and had tufts of +moss between them. + +Mr. Dale's study was in a sort of half basement one went down two steps +to reach the doorway, and the windows, set in thick stone walls and +almost hidden in a tangle of wistaria, were just above the level of the +path. + +The two old men entered, Mr. Dale bending his tall white head a little; +and while the lawyer unwound a long blue muffler from about his throat, +the host lighted a lamp, and, getting down on his knees, blew the dim +embers in the rusty grate into a flickering blaze. Then he pulled a +blackened crane from the jamb, and hung on it a dinted brass kettle, so +that he might add some hot water to Mr. Denner's gin and sugar, and also +make himself a cup of tea. That done, he took off his overcoat, throwing +it across the mahogany arm of the horse-hair sofa, which was piled with +books and pamphlets, and whitened here and there with ashes from his +silver pipe; then he knotted the cord of his flowered dressing-gown about +his waist, spread his red silk handkerchief over his thin locks, and, +placing his feet comfortably upon the high fender, was ready for +conversation. + +Mr. Denner, meanwhile, without waiting for the formality of an +invitation, went at once to a small corner closet, and brought out a +flat, dark bottle and an old silver cup. He poured the contents of the +bottle into the cup, added some sugar, and lastly, with a sparing hand, +the hot water, stirring it round and round with the one teaspoon which +they shared between them. + +Mr. Dale had produced a battered caddy, and soon the fumes of gin and tea +mingled amicably together. + +"If I could always have such evenings as this," Mr. Denner thought, +sipping the hot gin and water, and crossing his legs comfortably, "I +should not have to think of--something different." + +"Your wife would appreciate what I meant about loneliness," he said, +going back to what was uppermost in his mind. "A house without a mistress +at its head, Henry, is--ah--not what it should be." + +The remark needed no reply; and Mr. Dale leaned back in his leather +chair, dreamily watching the blue smoke from his slender pipe drift level +for a moment, and then, on an unfelt draught, draw up the chimney. + +Mr. Denner, resting his mug on one knee, began to stir the fire gently. +"Yes, Henry," he continued, "I feel it more and more as I grow older. I +really need--ah--brightness and comfort in my house. Yes, I need it. And +even if I were not interested, as it were, myself, I don't know but what +my duty to Willie should make me--ah--think of it." + +Mr. Dale was gazing at the fire. "Think of what?" he said. + +Mr. Denner became very much embarrassed. "Why, what I was just observing, +just speaking of,--the need of comfort--in my house--and my life, I +might say. Less loneliness for me, Henry, and, in fact, a--person--a--a +female--you understand." + +Mr. Dale looked at him. + +"In fact, as I might say, a wife, Henry." + +Mr. Dale was at last aroused; with his pipe between his lips, he clutched +the lion's-heads on the arms of his chair, and sat looking at Mr. Denner +in such horrified astonishment, that the little gentleman stumbled over +any words, simply for the relief of speaking. + +"Yes," he said, "just so, Henry, just so. I have been thinking of it +lately, perhaps for the last year; yes--I have been thinking of it." + +Mr. Dale, still looking at him, made an inarticulate noise in his throat. + +Mr. Denner's face began to show a faint dull red to his temples. +"Ah--yes--I--I have thought of it, as it were." + +"Denner," said Mr. Dale solemnly, "you're a fool." + +"If you mean my age, Henry," cried the other, his whole face a dusky +crimson, that sent the tears stinging into his little brown eyes, "I +cannot say I think your--surprise--is--ah--justified. It is not as though +there was anything unsuitable--she--they--are quite my age. And for +Willie's sake, I doubt if it is not a--a duty. And I am only sixty-one +and a half, Henry. You did not remember, perhaps, that I was so much +younger than you?" + +Mr. Dale pulled off his red handkerchief, and wiped his forehead; after +which he said quite violently, "The devil!" + +"Oh," remonstrated Mr. Denner, balancing his mug on his knee, and lifting +his hands deprecatingly, "not such words, Henry,--not such words; we are +speaking of ladies, Henry." + +Mr. Dale was silent. + +"You have no idea," the other continued, "in your comfortable house, with +a good wife, who makes you perfectly happy, how lonely a man is who lives +as I do; and I can tell you, the older he grows, the more he feels it. So +really, age is a reason for considering it." + +"I was not thinking of age," said Mr. Dale feebly. + +"Well, then," replied the other triumphantly, "age is the only objection +that could be urged. A man is happier and better for female influence; +and the dinners I have are really not--not what they should be, Henry. +That would all be changed, if I had a--ah--wife." + +"Denner," said his friend, "there are circumstances where a dinner of +herbs is more to be desired than a stalled ox, you will remember." + +"That is just how I feel," said the other eagerly, and too much +interested in his own anxieties to see Mr. Dale's point. "Mary is not +altogether amiable." + +Again Mr. Dale was silent. + +"I knew you would see the--the--desirability of it," the lawyer +continued, the flush of embarrassment fading away, "and so I decided to +ask your advice. I thought that, not only from your own--ah--heart, but +from the novels and tales you read, you would be able to advise me in any +matter of esteem." + +Mr. Dale groaned, and shook his head from side to side. + +"But, good Lord, Denner, books are one thing, life's another. You can't +live in a book, man." + +"Just so," said Mr. Denner, "just so; but I only want the benefit of your +experience in reading these tales of--ah--romance. You see, here is my +trouble, Henry,--I cannot make up my mind." + +"To do it?" cried Mr. Dale, with animation. + +But Mr. Denner interrupted him with a polite gesture. "No, I shall +certainly do it, I did not mean to mislead you. I shall certainly do it, +but I cannot make up my mind which." + +"Which?" said Mr. Dale vaguely. + +"Yes," answered the little gentleman, "which. Of course you know that +I refer to the Misses Woodhouse. You must have noticed my attentions of +late, for I have shown a great deal of attention to both; it has been +very marked. Yet, Henry, I cannot tell which (both are such estimable +persons) which I--should--ah--prefer. And knowing your experience, a +married man yourself, and your reading on such subjects,--novels are +mostly based upon esteem,--I felt sure you could advise me." + +A droll look came into Mr. Dale's face, but he did not speak. + +Feeling that he had made a clean breast of it, and that the +responsibility of choice was shifted to his friend's shoulders, the +lawyer, taking a last draught from the silver mug, and setting it down +empty on the table, leaned comfortably back in his chair to await the +decision. + +There was a long silence; once Mr. Denner broke it by saying, "Of course, +Henry, you see the importance of careful judgment," and then they were +still again. + +At last, Mr. Dale, with a long sigh, straightened up in his chair. He +lifted his white fluted china tea-cup, which had queer little chintz-like +bunches of flowers over it and a worn gilt handle, and took a pinch of +tea from the caddy; then, pouring some boiling water over it, he set it +on the hob to steep. + +"Denner," he said slowly, "which advice do you want? Whether to do it at +all, or which lady to choose?" + +"Which lady, of course," answered Mr. Denner promptly. "There can be but +one opinion as to the first question." + +"Ah," responded Mr. Dale; then, a moment afterwards, he added, "Well"-- + +Mr. Denner looked at his friend, with eyes shining with excitement. "It +is very important to me, Henry," he said, with a faltering voice. "You +will keep that in mind, I am sure. They are both so admirable, and +yet--there must be some choice. Miss Deborah's housekeeping--you know +there's no such cooking in Ashurst; and she's very economical. But then, +Miss Ruth is artistic, and"--here a fine wavering blush crept over his +little face--"she is--ah--pretty, Henry. And the money is equally +divided," he added, with a visible effort to return to practical things. + +"I know. Yes, it's very puzzling. On the whole, Denner, I do not see how +I can advise you." + +Mr. Denner seemed to suffer a collapse. + +"Why, Henry," he quavered, "you must have an opinion?" + +"No," Mr. Dale answered thoughtfully, "I cannot say that I have. Now, I +put it to you, Denner: how could I decide on the relative merits of Miss +Ruth and Miss Deborah, seeing that I have no affection, only respect, for +either of them? Affection! that ought to be your guide. Which do you have +most affection for?" + +"Why, really"--said Mr. Denner, "really"--and he stopped to think, +looking hard at the seal ring on his left hand--"I am afraid it is just +the same, if you call it affection. You see that doesn't help us." + +He had identified Mr. Dale's interest with his own anxiety, and looked +wistfully at the older man, who seemed sunk in thought and quite +forgetful of his presence. Mr. Denner put one hand to his lips and gave +a little cough. Then he said:-- + +"One would think there would be a rule about such things, some +acknowledged method; a proverb, for instance; it would simplify matters +very much." + +"True," said Mr. Dale. + +"Yes," Mr. Denner added, "you would think in such a general thing as +marriage there would be. Complications like this must constantly arise. +What if Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth had another sister? Just see how +confused a man might be. Yes, one would suppose the wisdom of experience +would take the form of an axiom. But it hasn't." + +He sighed deeply, and rose, for it was late, and the little fire had +burned out. + +Mr. Dale bent forward, with his elbows on his lean knees, and gently +knocked the ashes from his silver pipe. Then he got up, and, standing +with his back to the cold grate, and the tails of his flowered +dressing-gown under each arm in a comfortable way, he looked at the +lawyer, with his head a little on one side, as though he were about to +speak. Mr. Denner noticed it. + +"Ah, you cannot make any suggestion, Henry?" + +"Well," said Mr. Dale, "it seems to me I had a thought--a sort of a +proverb, you might say--but it slips my memory." + +Mr. Denner, with his overcoat half on, stood quite still, and trembled. + +"It is something about how to make up your mind," Mr. Dale continued, +very slowly; "let me see." + +"How to make up your mind?" cried Mr. Denner. "That's just the thing! +I'm sure, that's just the thing! And we cannot but have the greatest +confidence in proverbs. They are so eminently trustworthy. They are the +concentrated wisdom--of--of the ages, as it were. Yes, I should be quite +willing to decide the matter by a proverb." + +He looked at Mr. Dale eagerly, but this especial piece of wisdom still +eluded the older man. + +"It begins," said Mr. Dale, hesitating, and fixing his eyes upon the +ceiling,--"it begins--let me see. 'When in doubt'--ah"-- + +"What is it?" gasped Mr. Denner. "That has a familiar sound, but I cannot +seem to finish it. When in doubt, what?" + +"Well," answered his friend ruefully, "it is not quite--it does not +exactly apply. I am afraid it won't; help us out. You know the rest. It +is merely--'take the trick'!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The morning after John Ward's return from his two weeks' absence at +General Assembly, he found it hard to settle down to work. Not that there +was very much to talk about, for daily letters had told of daily doings, +but to be with Helen again was an absorbing joy. She followed him about +as he put his papers away, and he, in turn, came out into the garden to +watch her while she showed Alfaretta where to plant some flower seeds. + +"Come over here," Helen said, "and see these violets under the big elm! +I have been so in hopes they would blossom in time to welcome you. Let's +pick some for the study." + +They pushed the shining, wet leaves aside, and found the flowers, and +then John watched his wife put them in a shallow dish on his table. + +"It is weak in me to come in here," Helen said, smiling. "I know you +ought to work, yet here I sit." + +"This is Thursday," he answered, "and I wrote my sermon on the train +yesterday, so after I have copied the reports I can afford to be lazy. I +cannot bear to have you out of my sight!" He drew her brown head down on +his shoulder, and stroked her face softly. "When I'm away from you, +Helen, I seem only half alive." + +"And in three weeks I have to go to Ashurst," she said ruefully. "It is +too bad I couldn't have gone while you were at General Assembly, but it +wouldn't have been right for us both to be away from the parsonage at +once." + +"No. Well, we have the three weeks yet. Yes, I must send you away, and +get at the reports. How you brighten this room, Helen! I think it must +be the sunshine that seems caught in your hair. It gleams like bronze +oak-leaves in October." + +"Love has done wonderful things for your eyes, John," she said, smiling, +as she left him. + +She put on her heavy gloves and brought her trowel from under the front +porch, and she and the maid began to dig up the fresh, damp earth on the +sunny side of the house. + +"We'll have some sweet-peas here, Alfaretta," she said cheerily, "and I +think it would be nice to let the nasturtiums run over that log, don't +you? And you must plant these morning-glory seeds around the kitchen +windows." Suddenly she noticed that Alfaretta, instead of listening, was +gazing down the road, and her round freckled face flushing hotly. + +"He sha'n't come in," she muttered,--"he sha'n't come in!" and dropping +the hammer, and the box of tacks, and the big ball of twine, she hurried +to the gate, her rough hands clinched into two sturdy fists. + +Helen looked towards the road, and saw Mr. Dean come stiffly up to the +gate, for lumbago was not altogether a memory. Alfaretta reached it as he +did, and as she stooped to lean her elbows on its top bar she slipped the +latch inside. + +"Alfaretta," said her father pompously, "open the gate, if you please." +As he spoke, he rapped upon it with his heavy stick, and the little latch +clattered and shook. + +"Were you coming to see me, pa?" the girl asked nervously. "I--I'm busy +this morning. It's my night out, so I'll see you this evenin'." + +"Yes, I'll see you," returned Mr. Dean significantly, "but not now. I +didn't come to see you now; I'm here to see the preacher, Alfaretta. +Come, don't keep me out here in the sun," he added impatiently, shaking +the gate again. + +"I guess he's too busy to see you this morning,--he's awful busy." + +"I guess he's not too busy to see me," said the elder. + +Alfaretta's face was white now, but she still stood barring the gateway. +"Well, you can't see him, anyhow;" her voice had begun to tremble, and +Mrs. Ward, who had joined them, said, with a surprised look,-- + +"Why, what do you mean, Alfaretta? Of course Mr. Ward will see your +father. I hope your lumbago is better, Elder Dean?" + +Mr. Dean did not notice her question. "Certainly he will see me. Come, +now, open the gate; be spry." + +"You can't see him!" cried Alfaretta, bursting into tears. "I say he +won't see you, so there!" + +Her mistress looked at her in astonishment, but her father put his big +hand over the gate, and, wrenching the little latch open, strode up to +the front door of the parsonage. + +Helen and her maid looked at each other; Alfaretta's face working +convulsively to keep back the tears, and her mistress's eyes full of +disapproval. + +"Why did you say that, Alfaretta?" she said. "It was not true; you knew +Mr. Ward could see your father." Then she turned back to her planting. + +Alfaretta followed her, and, kneeling down by the border, began to grub +at the intruding blades of grass, stopping to put her hand up to her eyes +once in a while, which made her face singularly streaked and muddy. + +"What is the matter, Alfaretta?" Helen asked, at last, coldly. She did +not mean to be unkind, but she was troubled at the girl's untruthfulness. + +Alfaretta wailed. + +"Tell me," Helen said, putting her hand lightly on her shoulder. "Are you +crying because you said what was not true?" + +"'T ain't that!" sobbed Alfaretta. + +"I wish, then, you would either stop, or go into the house." Helen's +voice was stern, and Alfaretta looked at her with reproachful eyes; then +covering her face with her hands, she rocked backwards and forwards, and +wept without restraint. + +"I'm afraid--I'm afraid he's going to take me away from here!" + +"Take you away?" Helen said, surprised. "Why? Is the work too hard?" + +"No--no ma'am," Alfaretta answered, choking. + +"I'll go and see him at once," Helen said. + +"Oh, no!" Alfaretta cried, catching her mistress's skirt with grimy +hands, "don't go; 't won't do any good." + +"Don't be foolish," Helen remonstrated, smiling; "of course I must speak +to him. If your father thinks there is too much work, he must tell me, +and I will arrange it differently." + +She stooped, and took the hem of her cambric gown from between the girl's +fingers, and then went quickly into the house. + +She rapped lightly at the study door. "John, I must come in a moment, +please." + +She heard a chair pushed back, and John's footstep upon the floor. He +opened the door, and stood looking at her with strange, unseeing eyes. + +"Go away, Helen," he said hoarsely, without waiting for her to speak, for +she was dumb with astonishment at his face,--"go away, my darling." + +He put out one hand as if to push her back, and closed the door, and she +heard the bolt pushed. She stood a moment staring at the blank of the +locked door. What could it mean? Alfaretta's misery and morals were +forgotten; something troubled John,--she had no thought for anything +else. She turned away as though in a dream, and began absently to take +off her garden hat. John was in some distress. She went up-stairs to her +bedroom, and tried to keep busy with sewing until she could go to him, +but she was almost unconscious of what she did. How long, how very long, +the morning was! + + * * * * * + +John had looked up from his writing to see Mr. Dean standing in the +doorway. + +"Good-morning," he said cordially, as he rose to give his hand to his +elder. "I am glad to see you. How have things gone since I have been +away?" + +But Mr. Dean seemed to have nothing special to report, and let the +preacher tell him of General Assembly, while, embarrassed and very +uncomfortable, he sat twisting his hat round and round in his big, +rough hands. + +A bar of sunshine from the south window crept across the floor, and +touched the low dish of violets on the table, and then John's face, +making a sudden golden glint in his gentle dark eyes. + +"Mr. Ward," the elder said, at last, opening his mouth once or twice +before he began to speak, "I have a distress on my mind. I think the +Spirit of the Lord's driven me to tell you of it." + +"Are you in any trouble, my friend?" The tired look which had fallen upon +John's face as he put down his pen was gone in a moment. "I am glad, +then, I was not away any longer. I trust sickness has not come to your +family?" + +"No, sir," answered the other solemnly, "not sickness of body. What does +the Good Book say to the Christian? 'He shall give his angels charge over +thee.' No, I'm mercifully preserved from sickness; for, as for me and my +house, we serve the Lord. My lumbago was bad while you was away; but it's +better, I'm thankful to say. Sickness of the soul, Mr. Ward,--that is +what is truly awful." + +"I hope you are not feeling the power of Satan in doubts?" John said +anxiously. "Such sickness of the soul is indeed worse than any which can +come to the body." + +"No," replied the elder, "no, my feet are fixed. I know whom I have +believed. I have entered into the hidden things of God. I am not afraid +of doubt, ever. Yet what a fearful thing doubt is, Brother Ward!" + +"It is, indeed," John replied humbly. "Through the mercy of God, I have +never known its temptation. He has kept me from ever questioning truth." + +"What a terrible thing it would be," said Mr. Dean, beginning to forget +his awkwardness, "if doubt was to grow up in any heart, or in any family, +or in any church! I've sometimes wondered if, of late, you had given us +enough sound doctrine in the pulpit, sir? The milk of the Word we can get +out of the Bible for ourselves, but doctrines, they ain't to be found in +Holy Writ as they'd ought to be preached." + +John looked troubled. He knew the rebuke was merited. "I have feared +my sermons were, as you say, scarcely doctrinal enough. Yet I have +instructed you these six years in points of faith, and I felt it was +perhaps wiser to turn more to the tenderness of God as it is in Christ. +And I cannot agree with you that the doctrines are not in the Bible, Mr. +Dean." + +"Well," the elder admitted, "of course. But not so he that runs may read, +or that the wayfaring man will not err therein. There is some folks as +would take 'God is love' out of the Good Book, and forget 'Our God is a +consuming fire.'" + +John bent his head on his hand for a moment, and drove his mind back to +his old arguments for silence. Neither of the men spoke for a little +while, and then John said, still without raising his head:-- + +"Do you feel that this--neglect of mine has been of injury to any soul? +It is your duty to tell me." + +It was here that Helen's knock came, and when John had taken his seat +again he looked his accuser straight in the eyes. + +"Do you?" he said. + +"Sir," answered the elder, "I can't say. I ain't heard that it has--and +yet--I'm fearful. Yet I didn't come to reproach you for that. You have +your reasons for doing as you did, no doubt. But what I did come to do, +preacher, was to warn you that there was a creepin' evil in the church; +and we need strong doctrine now, if we ain't before. And I came the +quicker to tell you, sir, because it's fastened on my own household. Yes, +on my own child!" + +"Your own child?" John said. "You have nothing to fear for Alfaretta; she +is a very good, steady girl." + +"She's good enough and she's steady enough," returned Mr. Dean, shaking +his head; "and oh, Mr. Ward, when she joined the church, two years ago, +there wasn't anybody (joinin' on profession) better grounded in the faith +than she was. She knew her catechism through and through, and she never +asked a question or had a doubt about it in her life. But now,--now it's +different!" + +"Do you mean," John asked, "that her faith is shaken,--that she has +doubts? Such times are apt to come to very young Christians, though they +are conscious of no insincerity, and the doubts are but superficial. Has +she such doubts?" + +"She has, sir, she has," cried the elder, "and it breaks my heart to see +my child given over to the Evil One!" + +"No, no," John said tenderly; "if she is one of the elect,--and we have +reason to hope she is,--she will persevere. Remember, for your comfort, +the perseverance of the saints. But how has this come about? Is it +through any influence?" + +"Yes, sir, it is," said the elder quickly. + +"What is the especial doubt?" John asked. + +"It is her views of hell that distress me," answered the elder. John +looked absently beyond him, with eyes which saw, not Alfaretta, but +Helen. + +"That is very serious," he said slowly. + +"'T ain't natural to her," protested the elder. "She was grounded on +hell; she's been taught better. It's the influence she's been under, +preacher." + +"Surely it cannot be any one in our church," John said thoughtfully. "I +can think of too many who are weak in grace and good works, but none who +doubt the faith." + +"Yes," replied the elder, "yes, it is in our church. That's why I came to +beg you to teach sound doctrine, especially the doctrine of everlasting +punishment. I could a' dealt with Alfaretta myself, and I'll bring her +round, you can depend on that; but it is for the church I'm askin' you, +and fer that person that's unsettled Alfaretta. Convert her, save her. It +is a woman, sir, a member (by letter, Brother Ward) of our church, and +she's spreadin' nets of eternal ruin for our youth, and I came to say she +ought to be dealt with; the Session ought to take notice of it. The +elders have been speakin' of it while you was away; and we don't see +no way out of it, for her own soul's sake,--let alone other people's +souls,--than to bring her before the Session. If we can't convert her +to truth, leastways she'll be disciplined to silence." + +That subtile distinction which John Ward had made between his love and +his life was never more apparent than now. Though his elder's words +brought him the keenest consciousness of his wife's unbelief, he never +for an instant thought of her as the person whose influence in the church +was to be feared. His church and his wife were too absolutely separate +for such identification to be possible. + +"And," Mr. Dean added, his metallic voice involuntarily softening, "our +feelings, Mr. Ward, mustn't interfere with it; they mustn't make us +unkind to her soul by slightin' her best good." + +"No," John said, still absently, and scarcely listening to his +elder,--"no, of course not. But have you seen her, and talked with her, +and tried to lead her to the truth? That should be done with the +tenderest patience before anything so extreme as Sessioning." + +"We ain't," the elder answered significantly, "but I make no doubt she's +been reasoned with and prayed with." + +"Why, I have not spoken to her," John said, bewildered; "but you have not +told me who it is, yet." + +"Mr. Ward," said the other solemnly, "if you ain't spoke to her, you've +neglected your duty; and if you don't give her poor soul a chance of +salvation by bringing her to the Session, you are neglectin' your duty +still more. Your church, sir, and the everlastin' happiness of her soul +demand that this disease of unbelief should be rooted out. Yes, Brother +Ward, if the Jonah in a church was our nearest and dearest--and it don't +make no odds--the ship should be saved!" + +They both rose; a terrible look was dawning in John Ward's face, and, +seeing it, the elder's voice sunk to a hurried whisper as he spoke the +last words. + +"Who is this woman?" the preacher said hoarsely. + +"Sir--sir"--the elder cried, backing towards the door and raising his +hands in front of him, "don't look so,--don't look so, sir!" + +"Who?" demanded the other. + +"I spoke fer the sake of Alfaretta's soul, and fer the sake of them +that's heard her say them things about Tom Davis, provin' there wasn't +any punishment for sinners. Don't look so, preacher!" + +"Tell me her name!" + +"Her name--her name? Oh, you know it, sir, you know it--it's--your wife, +preacher." + +John Ward sprang at the cowering figure of the big elder, and clinched +his trembling hands on the man's shoulders, with an inarticulate cry. + +"My wife!" he said, between his teeth. "How dare you speak her name!" He +stopped, struggling for breath. + +"My duty!" gasped the elder, trying to loosen the trembling fingers--"to +her--an' you--an' the church you've starved and neglected, Brother Ward!" + +John blenched. Mr. Dean saw his advantage. "You know your vows when you +were ordained here six years ago: do you keep them? Do you feed your +people with spiritual food, or will you neglect them for your wife's +sake, and let her example send the souls in your care to endless ruin?" + +John had loosened his hold on the elder, and was leaning against the +wall, his head bowed upon his breast and his hands knotted together. A +passion of horrified grief swept across his face; he seemed unconscious +of the elder's presence. Mr. Dean looked at him, not certain what to do +or say; he had quite forgotten Alfaretta's "notice." At last the preacher +raised his head. + +"You have said enough," he said, in a low voice; "now go," and he pointed +with a shaking finger to the door. "Go!" he repeated. + +The elder hesitated, then slowly put on his hat and stumbled from the +room. John did not notice his outstretched hand, but followed him blindly +to the door, and locked it after him. + +The full blaze of sunshine flooded the room with its pitiless mirth; it +was wilting the dish of violets, and he moved it to the shaded end of the +table. + + * * * * * + +Alfaretta, peering out of her attic window, and wiping her eyes on the +corner of the dimity curtain which hid her, saw the elder walk out of the +parsonage and through the little gateway, with shame written on his +drooping shoulders and in his hurried, shambling steps. He never once +looked back. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Almost before Elder Dean had left the threshold Helen stood at the bolted +door. She turned the knob gently while she knocked. + +"John," she said anxiously,--"John, dear!" But there was no answer. + +"John!" she said again, a thread of fear in her voice. "What is the +matter? Are you ill, dearest? Please let me in!" + +Only the rustle of the wind outside and the flickering shadows across the +hall answered her. She shook the door slightly, and then listened. "John, +John!" she called again, and as she heard a long breath inside the closed +room she leaned against the wall, faint with a fright she had not +realized. She heard a slow footstep upon the floor, that stopped on the +other side of the door. + +"Helen," her husband said, in a voice she scarcely knew, "I want to be +alone. I am not ill, but I must be--undisturbed. Will you go away, +please?" + +"Let me in just one moment, darling," she pleaded, still nervously +turning the knob. "I won't disturb you, but it terrifies me to be shut +out in this way. Please let me just see you, and then I will go right +away." + +"No," he answered, "I cannot see you. I do not want to see you, Helen. +I must be alone just now." + +"You are sure you are not ill?" she insisted. + +"Quite sure." + +"Well," she said reluctantly, "I'll go, but call me just as soon as I can +come, will you?" + +"Yes," he answered, "but do not come until I do call you." + +She heard him walk back to his study table, and then silence seemed to +fall like a shadow on her heart. She was more bewildered than before. +John was in trouble, and she could not help him. Nevertheless, she did +not speak again; she was one of those unusual women who are content to +wait until the moment it is needed, to give their sympathy or tenderness. +So she went to her own room, and sat wistfully looking out at the sweet +spring day; she could not read while this anxiety filled her mind, and +her hands were idle in her lap. She did not even summon John to luncheon, +knowing he would come if he saw fit; for herself, she could not eat. It +was almost five, when she heard John push his chair back (she was sitting +on the lowest step of the staircase, which ended at the study door, +leaning her head against the frame), and again her ear caught the heavy, +long-drawn sigh. Her suspense was to end. + +She rose, her hands pressed hard together to check their trembling; she +bit her lip lest she might speak and disturb him one moment before he was +ready to hear her. + +He pushed back the bolt, and slowly opened the door and looked at her. +All the words of love and anxiety died on her lips. + +"John," she whispered,--"oh, my dear, what is it?" + +He came out, and, putting his hands on her shoulders, looked down at her +with terrible, unsmiling eyes. "Helen," he said, "I am grieved to have +distressed you so, but it had to be. I had to be alone. I am in much +trouble. No," laying his hand gently on her lips; "listen to me, dearest. +I am in great distress of soul; and just now, just for a few days, I must +bear it alone." + +Helen felt a momentary sense of relief. Distress of soul?--that meant +some spiritual anxiety, and it had not the awfulness to her which a more +tangible trouble, such as sickness, would have. + +"What is it, John? Tell me," she said, looking at him with overflowing +love, but without an understanding sympathy; it was more that feeling +which belongs to strong women, of maternal tenderness for the men they +love, quite apart from an intellectual appreciation of their trouble. + +John shook his head. "I must bear it alone, Helen. Do not ask me what it +is; I cannot tell you yet." + +"You cannot tell me? Oh, John, your sorrow belongs to me; don't shut me +out; tell me, dear, and let me help you." + +"You cannot help me," he answered wearily; "only trust me when I say it +is best for me not to tell you now; you shall know all there is to know, +later. Be patient just a few days,--until after the Sabbath. Oh, bear +with me,--I am in great sorrow, Helen; help me with silence." + +She put her arms around him, and in her caressing voice, with that deep +note in it, she said, "It shall be just as you say, darling. I won't ask +you another question, but I'm ready to hear whenever you want to tell +me." + +He looked at her with haggard eyes, but did not answer. Then she drew +him out into the fresh coolness of the garden, and tried to bring some +brightness into his face by talking of small household happenings, and +how she had missed him during his two weeks' absence, and what plans she +had for the next week. But no smile touched his white lips, or banished +the absent look in his eyes. After tea, during which his silence had not +been broken, he turned to go into his study. + +"Oh, you are not going to work to-night?" Helen cried. "Don't leave me +alone again!" + +He looked at her with sudden wistfulness. "I--I must," he said, his voice +so changed it gave her a shock of pain. "I must work on my sermon." + +"I thought you had written it," she said; "and you are so tired--do wait +until to-morrow." + +"I am not going to use the sermon I prepared," he answered. "I have +decided to preach more directly on foreign missions. You know I exchange +with Mr. Grier, of Chester, on the Sabbath; and he will preach to our +church on the attitude of Assembly towards missions. I had intended to +give a more general sermon to his people, but--I have decided otherwise." + +Helen was surprised at so long an explanation; John's sermons were +generally ignored by both, but for different reasons. She followed him +into the study, and when she had lighted his lamp he kissed her, saying +softly, "May God bless you, Helen," and then he shut her gently from the +room. + +"Don't lock the door, John," she had said. "I won't come in, but don't +lock it." Her lip almost trembled as she spoke. + +"No,--no," he said tenderly. "Oh, Helen, I have made you suffer!" + +She was quick to protect him. "No, I was only lonely; but you won't lock +it?" + +He did not, but poor Helen wandered forlornly about the darkened house, +an indefinable dread chasing away the relief which had come when her +husband spoke of spiritual trouble; she was glad, for the mere humanness +of it, to hear Thaddeus and Alfaretta talking in the kitchen. + +The next day, and the next, dragged slowly by. When John was not at his +writing-table, he was making those pastoral calls which took so much time +and strength, and which Helen always felt were unnecessary. Once, seeing +her standing leaning her forehead against the window and looking out +sadly into the rainy garden, he came up to her and took her in his arms, +holding her silently to his heart. That cheered and lightened her, and +somehow, when Sunday morning dawned, full of the freshness of the past +rain and the present wind and sunshine, she felt the gloom of the last +three days lifting a little. True, there was the unknown sorrow in her +heart, but love was there, too. She was almost happy, without knowing it. + +They were to go on horseback, for Chester was eight miles off, and the +thought of a ride in this sparkling mountain air brought a glow to her +cheek, which had been pale the last few days. They started early. The sun +seemed to tip the great green bowl of the valley, and make every leaf +shine and glisten; the road wound among the circling hills, which were +dark with sombre pines, lightened here and there by the fresh greenness +of ash or chestnuts; in some places the horse's hoofs made a velvety +sound on the fallen catkins. A brook followed their path, whispering and +chattering, or hiding away under overhanging bushes, and then laughing +sharply out into the sunshine again. The wind was fresh and fickle; +sometimes twisting the weeds and flowers at the wayside, or sending a +dash of last night's raindrops into their faces from the low branches +of the trees, and all the while making cloud shadows scud over the +fresh-ploughed fields, and up and across the blue, distant hills. + +John rested his hand on her bridle, as she stroked her horse's mane. "How +the wind has blown your hair from under your hat!" he said. + +She put her gauntleted hand up to smooth it. + +"Don't," he said, "it's so pretty; it looks like little tendrils that +have caught the sun." + +Helen laughed, and then looked at him anxiously; the sunshine brought out +the worn lines in his face. "You work too hard, dearest; it worries me." + +"I have never worked at all!" he cried, with a sudden passion of pain in +his voice. "Oh, my wasted life, Helen,--my life that has wronged and +cheated you!" + +"John!" she said, almost frightened. Yet it was characteristic that she +should think this was only a symptom of overwork and bodily weariness. +And when at last they reached the church in Chester, and John lifted her +from her saddle, the anxiety had come again, and all the joy of the +summer morning had left her face. They fastened their horses to one of +the big chestnuts which stood in a stately row in front of the little +white church, and then Helen went inside, and found a seat by one of the +open windows; she secretly pushed the long inside shutter, with its drab +slats turned down, half-way open, so that she might look out across the +burying-ground, where the high blossoming grass nodded and waved over the +sunken graves. + +John had followed her, and folded a coat over the back of the pew. He +gave her a long, yearning look, but did not speak. Then he turned, and +walked slowly up the aisle, with reverently bent head. + +At the first hymn the congregation turned and faced the choir. Helen, +with the shadows of the leaves playing across her hymn-book, leaned +against the high back of the pew behind her, and sang in a strong, sweet +voice, rejoicing in the rolling old tune of "Greenland's icy mountains." +She could see the distant line of the hills, and now and then between the +branches of the trees would come the flash and ripple of the brown river; +and through the open door, which made a frame for the leaves and sky, she +caught sight of the row of horses pounding and switching under the +chestnuts, and those backsliders outside, who found it necessary to "see +to the beasts" rather than attend their religious privileges. But there +were not very many of these, for Mr. Ward's fame as a preacher had spread +through all the villages near Lockhaven. + +Helen, watching John while he read the chapter from the Bible, thought +anxiously how tired and worn his face looked, and so thinking, and +looking out into the dancing leaves, the short prayer, and the long +prayer, and the hymn before the sermon passed, and she scarcely heard +them. Then came the rustle of preparation for listening. The men shuffled +about in their seats, and crossed their legs; the women settled their +bonnet-strings, and gave the little children a peppermint drop, and the +larger children a hymn-book to read. There were the usual rustling and +whispering in the choir, and the creaking footsteps of the one or two who +entered shamefacedly, as though they would explain that the horses had +detained them. Then the church was very still. + +John Ward rose, and spread his manuscript out upon the velvet cushion of +the white pulpit. + +"You will find my text," he said, "in the sixth chapter of Romans, the +twenty-first verse: 'The end of those things is death.'" + +It had been announced that his sermon was to be upon foreign missions, +and the people waited patiently while the preacher briefly told them what +had been accomplished by the Presbyterian Church during the last year, +and, describing its methods of work, showed what it proposed to do in the +future. + +"That's just a-tunin' up,--he'll set the heathen dancin' pretty soon; you +see!" some one whispered behind Helen; and then there was a giggle and +"hush-sh," as Mr. Ward began to say that foreign missions were inevitable +wherever the sentiment of pity found room in a human heart, because the +guilt of those in the darkness of unbelief, without God, without hope, +would certainly doom them to eternal misery; and this was a thought so +dark and awful, men could not go their way, one to his farm, and another +to his merchandise, and leave them to perish. + +The simple and unquestioning conviction with which the preacher began to +prove to his congregation that the heathen were guilty, because Adam, +their federal head and representative, had sinned, perhaps hid from them +the cruelty with which he credited the Deity. No one thought of disputing +his statement that the wrath of God rested upon all unconverted souls, +and that it would, unless they burst from their darkness into the +glorious light of revealed truth, sink them to hell. + +Some of the older Christians nodded their heads comfortably at this, and +looked keenly at the sinners of their own families, trusting that they +would be awakened to their danger by these trumpet bursts of doctrine. To +such hearers, it was unnecessary that John Ward should insist upon the +worthlessness of natural religion, begging them remember that for these +heathen, as well as for more favored souls, Christ's was the only name +given under heaven whereby men might be saved, and appealing to God's +people, as custodians of the mercies of Christ, to stretch their hands +out into the darkness to these blind, stumbling, doomed brothers. He bade +them be quick to answer that cry of "Come and help us!" and to listen for +that deeper voice beneath the wail of despair, which said, "Inasmuch as +ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done +it unto me." + +The possibility of being saved without a knowledge of Christ remained, +he said, after eighteen hundred years, a possibility illustrated by no +example; and we could only stand in the shadow of this terrible fact, +knowing that millions and millions of souls were living without the +gospel, the only source of life, and dying without hope, and pray God for +the spirit and the means to help them. + +Link by link he lengthened the chain of logic till it reached to the +deepest hell. He showed how blasphemous was the cry that men must be +saved, if for lack of opportunity they knew not Christ; that God would +not damn the soul that had had no chance to accept salvation. It had had +the chance of salvation in Adam, and had lost it, and was therefore +condemned. To the preacher this punishment of the helpless heathen seemed +only just. + +"Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" he cried, and he stopped +to suppose, for the sake of argument, that Adam had not sinned: surely no +one would have disputed the justice of receiving the blessings which his +godliness would have entailed. Then he began to prove the right of the +potter over the clay. He had forgotten his congregation; the horror of +the damnation of the heathen was lost in the fear that one soul should +perish. He saw only Helen; she was in danger, she was far from God, but +yet the price of admission to heaven could not be altered, though his +heart broke for longing that she should be saved; the requirements of the +gospel had not softened, the decrees of Omnipotence were as unchangeable +as the eternal past. + +His words, glowing with his love and grief, were only for her. The +thunders of God's justice shook his soul, while he offered her the +infinite mercy of Christ. But he did not shrink from acknowledging that +that mercy was only for those who would accept it, nor presume to dictate +to God that all sinners should be saved, forced into salvation, without +accepting his conditions. + +"What right," he said, "have we to expect that mercy should exist at all? +What madness, then, to think He will depart from the course He has laid +out for himself, and save without condition those who are justly +condemned? Yet justice is satisfied, for Christ has died. O Soul, accept +that sacrifice!" He had come to the edge of the pulpit, one pale hand +clinched upon the heavy cover of the Bible, and the other stretched +tremblingly out; his anxious, grieving eyes looked over the solemn, +upturned faces of his listeners, and sought Helen, sitting in the dusky +shadow by the open window, her face a little averted, and her firm, sweet +lips set in a line which was almost stern. + +Some of the women were crying: an exaltation purely hysterical made them +feel themselves lost sinners; they thrilled at John's voice, as though +his words touched some strained chord in their placid and virtuous lives. + +"Come," he said, "stand with me to-day under the pierced hands and +bleeding side of Infinite Mercy; look up into that face of divine +compassion and ineffable tenderness, and know that this blood-stained +cross proclaims to all the centuries death suffered for the sin of the +world,--for your sin and mine. Can you turn and go away to outer +darkness, to wander through the shadows of eternity, away from God, away +from hope, away from love? Oh, come, while still those arms are open to +you; come, before the day of grace has darkened into night; come, before +relentless Justice bars the way with a flaming sword. O Soul, Christ +waits!" + +He stood a moment, leaning forward, his hands clasped upon the big Bible, +and his face full of trembling and passionate pleading. Then he said, +with a long, indrawn breath, "Let us pray!" + +The people rose, and stood with bowed heads through the short, eager, +earnest prayer. Then the preacher gave out the hymn, and there was the +rustle of turning to face the choir. The quaint, doleful tune of Windham +wailed and sobbed through the words,-- + + "The burden of our weighty guilt + Would sink us down to flames; + And threatening vengeance rolls above, + To crush our feeble frames!" + +The choir sang with cheerful heartiness; it was a relief from the tension +of the sermon, a reaction to life, and hope, and healthy humanness after +these shadows of death. It all seemed part of a dream to Helen: the two +happy-faced girls standing in the choir, with bunches of apple-blossoms +in the belts of their fresh calico dresses, and the three young farmers +who held the green singing-books open, all singing heartily together,-- + + "'Tis boundless, 'tis amazing love, + That bears us up from hell!" + +Helen watched them with fascinated curiosity; she wondered if they could +believe what they had just heard. Surely not; or how could they know a +moment's happiness, or even live! + +After the benediction had been pronounced she walked absently down the +aisle, and went at once to her horse under the flickering shadows of the +chestnuts. Here she waited for John, one hand twisted in the gray's mane, +and with the other switching at the tall grass with her riding-whip. Only +a few of the people knew her, but these came to speak of the sermon. One +woman peered at her curiously from under her big shaker bonnet. The +stories of Mr. Ward's wife's unbelief had traveled out from Lockhaven. +"Wonderful how some folks could stand against such doctrine!" she said; +"and yet they must know it's a sin not to believe in everlasting +punishment. I believe it's a mortal sin, don't you, Mrs. Ward?" + +"No," Helen said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +They rode quite silently to the house of the minister with whom John had +exchanged, where they were to dine; after that, the preacher was to go +back to the church for the afternoon sermon. + +Mrs. Grier, a spare, anxious-looking woman, with a tight friz of hair +about her temples which were thin and shining, met them at the door. She +had hurried home to "see to things," and be ready to welcome her guests. +John she ushered at once into her husband's study, a poor little room, +with even fewer books than Mr. Ward's own, while Helen she took to the +spare chamber, where she had thoughtfully provided a cambric dress for +her, for the day had grown very warm, and the riding-habit was heavy. + +She sat down in a splint rocking-chair, and watched her guest brush out +her length of shining bronze hair, and twist it in a firm coil low on her +neck. + +"It was a good gathering," she said; "people came from a distance to +hear Mr. Ward. The folks at Lockhaven are favored to listen to such +preaching." + +"No doubt they feel favored to have Mr. Grier with them to-day," Helen +answered, courteously; but there was an absent look in her eyes, and she +did not listen closely. + +"Well, people like a change once in a while," Mrs. Grier admitted, +rocking hard. "Mr. Grier's discourse was to be on the same subject as +your husband's, foreign missions. It is one that moves the preachers, and +the people seem to like it, I notice, though I don't know that it makes +much difference in the collections. But I think they like to get all +harrowed up. You'll find there won't be such an attendance in the +afternoon. It is ways and means, then, you know. Yes, seems as if sermons +on hell made them shiver, and they enjoyed it. I've sometimes thought--I +don't know as I'm right--they get the same kind of pleasure out of it +that worldly people do out of a play. Not that I know much about such +things, I'm sure." + +Helen smiled, which rather shocked Mrs. Grier; but though the guest +scarcely listened, the little sharp babble of talk was kept up, until +they went down to dinner. + +There had been no chance for the husband and wife to speak to each other. +John looked at Helen steadily a moment, but her eyes veiled any thought. +In the midst of Mrs. Grier's chatter, she had gone into the solitude of +her own heart, and slowly and silently light was beginning to shine into +the mysterious darkness of the last few days. John's grief must have had +something to do with this terrible sermon. She felt her heart leap up +from the past anxiety like a bird from a net, and the brooding sadness +began to fade from her face. The preacher had come down from the pulpit +with a certain exhilaration, as of duty done. He was inspired to hope, +and even certainty, by the greatness of the theme. Helen should see the +truth, his silence should no longer mislead her, she should believe in +the justice of God. He had forgotten his sin of cowardice in the +onward-sweeping wave of his convictions; he seemed to yield himself up to +the grasp of truth, and lost even personal remorse in the contemplation +of its majesty. + +Mrs. Grier had four noisy children, who all spoke at once, and needed +their mother's constant care and attention, so John and Helen could at +least be silent; yet it was hard to sit through the dinner when their +hearts were impatient for each other. + +In a little breathing space at the end of the meal, when two of the +children had clambered down from their high chairs and been dismissed, +Mrs. Grier began to speak of the sermon. + +"It was a wonderful discourse, sir," she said; "seems as if nobody could +stand against such doctrine as you gave us. I could have wished, though, +you'd have told us your thoughts about infants being lost. There is a +difference of opinion between Mr. Grier and two of our elders." + +"What does Brother Grier hold?" asked the preacher. + +"Well," Mrs. Grier answered, shaking her head, "he does say they are all +saved. But the elders, they say that the confession of faith teaches that +elect infants are saved, and of course it follows that those not elect +are lost. My father, Mr. Ward, was a real old-fashioned Christian, and I +must say that was what I was taught to believe, and I hold by it. There +now, Ellen, you take your little sister and go out into the garden, like +a good girl." + +She lifted the baby down from her chair, and put her hand into that of +her elder sister. + +"Mrs. Grier," Helen said, speaking quickly, "you say you believe it, but +if you had ever lost a child, I am sure you could not." + +"I have, ma'am,"--Mrs. Grier's thin lip quivered, and her eyes reddened +a little,--"but that can't make any difference in truth; besides, we have +the blessed hope that she was an elect infant." + +It would have been cruel to press the reason for this hope, and Helen +listened instead with a breath of relief to what John was saying,--he, at +least, did not hold this horrible doctrine. + +"No, I agree with your husband," he said. "True, all children are born in +sin, and are despised and abhorred as sinners by God. Jonathan Edwards, +you know, calls them 'vipers,' which of course was a crude and cruel way +of stating the truth, that they are sinners. Yet, through the infinite +mercy, they are saved because Christ died, not of themselves; in other +words, all infants who die, are elect." + +Mrs. Grier shook her head. "I'm for holding to the catechism," she said; +and then, with a sharp, thin laugh, she added, "But you're sound on the +heathen, I must say." + +Helen shivered, and it did not escape her hostess, who turned and looked +at her with interested curiosity. She, too, had heard the Lockhaven +rumors. + +"But then," she proceeded, "I don't see how a parson can help being sound +on that, though it is surprising what people will doubt, even the things +that are plainest to other people. I've many a time heard my father say +that the proper holding of the doctrine of reprobation was necessary to +eternal life. I suppose you believe that, Mr. Ward," she added, with a +little toss of her head, "even if you don't go all the way with the +confession, about infants?" + +"Yes," John said sadly, "I must; because not to believe in reprobation is +to say that the sacrifice of the cross was a useless offering." + +"And of course," Mrs. Grier went on, an edge of sarcasm cutting into her +voice, "Mrs. Ward thinks so, too? Of course she thinks that a belief in +hell is necessary to get to heaven?" + +The preacher looked at his wife with a growing anxiety in his face. + +"No," Helen said, "I do not think so, Mrs. Grier." + +Mrs. Grier flung up her little thin hands, which looked like bird-claws. +"You _don't_!" she cried shrilly. "Well, now, I do say! And what do you +think about the heathen, then? Do you think they'll be damned?" + +"No," Helen said again. + +Mrs. Grier gave a gurgle of astonishment, and looked at Mr. Ward, but he +did not speak. + +"Well," she exclaimed, "if I didn't think the heathen would be lost, I +wouldn't see the use of the plan of salvation! Why, they've got to be!" + +"If they had to be," cried Helen, with sudden passion, "I should want to +be a heathen. I should be ashamed to be saved, if there were so many +lost." She stopped; the anguish in John's face silenced her. + +"Well," Mrs. Grier said again, really enjoying the scene, "_I'm_ +surprised; I wouldn't a' believed it!" + +She folded her hands across her waist, and looked at Mrs. Ward with keen +interest. Helen's face flushed under the contemptuous curiosity in the +woman's eyes; she turned appealingly to John. + +"Mrs. Ward does not think quite as we do, yet," he said gently; "you know +she has not been a Presbyterian as long as we have." + +He rose as he spoke, and came and stood by Helen's chair, and then walked +at her side into the parlor. + +Mrs. Grier had followed them, and heard Helen say in a low voice, "I +would rather not go to church this afternoon, dearest. May I wait for you +here?" + +"Well," she broke in, "I shouldn't suppose you would care to go, so long +as it's just about the ways and means of sending the gospel to the +heathen, and you think they're all going right to heaven, any way." + +"I do not know where they are going, Mrs. Grier," Helen said wearily; +"for all I know, there is no heaven, either. I only know that God--if +there is a God who has any personal care for us--could not be so wicked +and cruel as to punish people for what they could not help." + +"Good land!" cried Mrs. Grier, really frightened at such words, and +looking about as though she expected a judgment as immediate as the bears +which devoured the scoffing children. + +"If you would rather not go," John answered, "if you are tired, wait for +me here. I am sure Mrs. Grier will let you lie down and rest until it is +time to start for home?" + +"Oh, of course," responded Mrs. Grier, foreseeing a chance for further +investigation, for she, too, was to be at home. + +But Helen did not invite her to come into the spare room, when she went +to lie down, after John's departure for church. She wanted to be alone. +She had much to think of, much to reconcile and explain, to protect +herself from the unhappiness which John's sermon might have caused her. +She had had an unmistakable shock of pain and distress as she realized +her husband's belief, and to feel even that seemed unloving and disloyal. +To Helen's mind, if she disapproved of her husband's opinions on what to +her was an unimportant subject, her first duty was to banish the thought, +and forget that she had ever had it. She sat now by the open window, +looking out over the bright garden to the distant peaceful hills, and by +degrees the pain of it began to fade from her mind, in thoughts of John +himself, his goodness, and their love. Yes, they loved one another,--that +was enough. + +"What does it matter what his belief is?" she said. "I love him!" + +So, by and by, the content of mere existence unfolded in her heart, and +John's belief was no more to her than a dress of the mind; his character +was unchanged. There was a momentary pang that the characters of others +might be hurt by this teaching of the expediency of virtue, but she +forced the thought back. John, whose whole life was a lesson in the +beauty of holiness--John could not injure any one. The possibility that +he might be right in his creed simply never presented itself to her. + +Helen's face had relaxed into a happy smile; again the day was fair and +the wind sweet. The garden below her was fragrant with growing things and +the smell of damp earth; and while she sat, drinking in its sweetness, a +sudden burst of children's voices reached her ear, and Ellen and the two +little boys came around the corner of the house, and settled down under +the window. A group of lilacs, with feathery purple blossoms, made a +deep, cool shade, where the children sat; and near them was an old +grindstone, streaked with rust, and worn by many summers of sharpening +scythes; a tin dipper hung on the wooden frame, nearly full of last +night's rain, and with some lilac stars floating in the water. + +This was evidently a favorite playground with the children, for under the +frame of the grindstone were some corn-cob houses, and a little row of +broken bits of china, which their simple imagination transformed into +"dishes." But to-day the corn-cob houses and the dishes were untouched. + +"Now, children," Ellen said, "you sit right down, and I'll hear your +catechism." + +"Who'll hear yours?" Bobby asked discontentedly. "When we play school, +you're always teacher, and it's no fun." + +"This isn't playing school," Ellen answered, skillfully evading the first +question. "Don't you know it's wicked to play on the Sabbath? Now sit +right down." + +There was a good deal of her mother's sharpness in the way she said this, +and plucked Bobby by the strings of his pinafore, until he took an +uncomfortable seat upon an inverted flower-pot. + +Ellen opened a little yellow-covered book, and began. + +"Now answer, Jim! How many kinds of sin are there?" + +"Two," responded little Jim. + +"What are these two kinds, Bob?" + +"Original and actual," Bob answered. + +"What is original sin?" asked Ellen, raising one little forefinger to +keep Bobby quiet. This was too hard a question for Jim, and with some +stumbling Bobby succeeded in saying,-- + +"It is that sin in which I was conceived and born." + +"Now, Jim," said Ellen, "you can answer this question, 'cause it's only +one word, and begins with 'y.'" + +"No fair!" cried Bob; "that's telling." + +But Ellen proceeded to give the question: "Doth original sin wholly +defile you, and is it sufficient to send you to hell, though you had no +other sin?" + +"Yes!" roared Jim, pleased at being certainly right. + +"What are you then by nature?" Ellen went on rather carelessly, for she +was growing tired of the lesson. + +"I am an enemy to God, a child of Satan, and an heir of hell," answered +Bobby promptly. + +"What will become of the wicked?" asked the little catechist. + +Bobby yawned, and then said contemptuously, "Oh, skip that,--cast into +hell, of course." + +"You ought to answer right," Ellen said reprovingly, but she was glad to +give the last question, "What will the wicked do forever in hell?" + +"They will roar, curse, and blaspheme God," said little Jim cheerfully; +while Bobby, to show his joy that the lesson was done, leaned over on his +flower-pot, and tried to stand on his head, making all the time an +unearthly noise. + +"I'm roarin'!" he cried gayly. + +Ellen, freed from the responsibility of teaching, put the little yellow +book quickly in her pocket, and said mysteriously, "Boys, if you won't +ever tell, I'll tell you something." + +"I won't," said Jim, while Bobby responded briefly, "G'on." + +"Well, you know when the circus came,--you know the pictures on the +fences?" + +"Yes!" said the little boys together. + +"'Member the beautiful lady, ridin' on a horse, and standin' on one +foot?" + +"Yes!" the others cried, breathlessly. + +"Well," said Ellen slowly and solemnly, "when I get to be a big girl, +that's what I'm going to be. I'm tired of catechism, and church, and +those long blessings father asks, but most of catechism, so I'm going +to run away, and be a circus." + +"Father'll catch you," said Jim; but Bobby, with envious depreciation, +added,-- + +"How do you know but what circuses have catechism?" + +Ellen did not notice the lack of sympathy. "And I'm going to begin to +practice now," she said. + +Then, while her brothers watched her, deeply interested, she took off her +shoes, and in her well-darned little red stockings climbed deliberately +upon the grindstone. + +"This is my horse," she said, balancing herself, with outstretched arms, +on the stone, and making it revolve in a queer, jerky fashion by pressing +her feet on it as though it were a treadmill, "and it is bare-backed!" + +The iron handle came down with a thud, and Ellen lurched to keep from +falling; the boys unwisely broke into cheers. + +It made a pretty picture, the sunbeams sifting through the lilacs on the +little fair heads, and dancing over Ellen's white apron and rosy face; +but Mrs. Grier, who had come to the door at the noise of the cheers, did +not stop to notice it. + +"Oh, you naughty children!" she cried. "Don't you know it is wicked to +play on the Sabbath? Ellen's playing circus, do you say, Bobby? You +naughty, naughty girl! Don't you know circus people are all wicked, and +don't go to heaven when they die? I should think you'd be ashamed! Go +right up-stairs, Ellen, and go to bed; and you boys can each learn a +psalm, and you'll have no supper, either,--do you hear?" + +The children began to cry, but Mrs. Grier was firm; and when, a little +later, Helen came down-stairs, ready for her ride, the house was +strangely quiet. Mrs. Grier, really troubled at her children's +sinfulness, confided their misdeeds to Helen, and was not soothed +by the smile that flashed across her face. + +"They were such good children to study their catechism first," she +interceded, "and making a horse out of a grindstone shows an imagination +which might excuse the playing." + +But Mrs. Grier was not comforted, and only felt the more convinced of the +lost condition of Mrs. Ward's soul. The conviction of other people's sin +is sometimes a very pleasing emotion, so she bade her guest good-by with +much cordiality and even pulled the skirt of her habit straight, and gave +the gray a lump of sugar. + +Helen told John of the scene under the lilacs, as they trotted down the +lane to the highway, but his mood was too grave to see any humor in it. +Indeed, his frame of mind had changed after he left his wife for his +second sermon. The exhilaration and triumph had gone, and the reaction +had come. He brooded over his sin, and the harassed, distressed look of +the last few days settled down again on his face. But Helen had regained +her sweet serenity and content; she felt so certain that the darkness +since Thursday had been the shadow in which his sermon had been conceived +that her relief brought a joy which obscured any thought of regret that +he should hold such views. + +John's head was bent, and his hands were clasped upon his saddle-bow, +while the reins fell loosely from between his listless fingers. + +"You are so tired, John," Helen said regretfully. + +He sighed, as though rousing himself from thought. "A little, dearest," +and then his sorrowful eyes smiled. "You look so fresh and rested, Helen. +It was wise for you to lie down this afternoon." + +"Oh, but I didn't," she said quickly. "I was busy thinking." + +He looked at her eagerly. "Yes," she continued, "I think I know what has +distressed you so these last few days, dear. It is this thought of the +suffering of mankind. If you have felt that all the heathen who have died +are in hell, I don't wonder at your sorrow. It would be dreadful, and I +wish you did not think it. But we will not talk about it,--of course you +would rather not talk about it, even to me, but I understand." + +She bent forward, and smiled brightly, as she looked at him. But his face +was full of grief. + +"It was not that, Helen," he said; "it was something nearer than that. +It was remorse, because of late, for nearly a year, I have neglected my +people. I have not admonished them and warned them as I ought. And nearer +still, because I have neglected you." + +"Me!" she cried, too much astonished to say more. + +"Yes," he answered, his head bent again upon his breast, "you, my +dearest, my best beloved,--you, who are dearer than my life to me, dearer +than my happiness. I have known that you have been far from truth, that +you have not believed, and yet I--I have been silent." + +Helen looked at him, and the sudden awful thought flashed into her mind +that he did not know what he was saying, and then she said with a gasp: +"Oh, John, is that all? Have you been so unhappy just because of that? +Oh, you poor fellow!" + +She brought her horse close beside his, and laid her hand on his arm. +"Dear, what does it matter what I believe or do not believe? We love each +other. And where is your tolerance, John?" She laughed, but the look of +terrible concern in his face frightened her. + +"Ah, Helen," he said, "such tolerance as you would have me show would be +indifference." + +"Oh, John!" she said, and then began resolutely to speak of other things. + +But soon they fell into silence, Helen longing to get home and brush this +useless and foolish anxiety from her husband's heart, and he agonizing +for his sin towards her and towards his people. + +The late afternoon sunshine gilded the tender green of the fields, and +slanting deep into the darkness of the woods, touched the rough trunks of +the trees with gold. Long shadows stretched across the road, and the +fragrance which steals out with the evening dews began to come from +unseen blossoms, and early clover; and a breath of the uncertain night +wind brought hints of apple orchards or the pungent sweetness of +cherry-blossoms. They had gone more than half-way home when they drew +rein to water their horses, under a whispering pine by the roadside. The +trough, overflowing with sparkling water, was green with moss and lichen, +and was so old and soft that a bunch of ferns had found a home on its +side. The horses thrust their noses down into it, blowing and sputtering +with sheer delight in the coolness. John made a cup of a big beech leaf, +and filled it for his wife. As he handed it to her, they heard steps, and +in a moment more Mr. Grier came around the curve of the road. His horse, +too, was thirsty, and he let the reins fall on its neck while he greeted +them both with formal and ministerial dignity, saying he "wished they +might have tarried until he came home, and perhaps he could have +persuaded them to stay the night." + +The horses pounded and splashed in the pools about their feet, and were +impatient to be off, but Mr. Grier delayed. He spoke of church matters, +and General Assembly, and their respective congregations; and then, with +a little hesitation, he said:-- + +"I had almost hoped, Mrs. Ward, that you would have been in Brother +Ward's church to-day, even though Mrs. Grier had much pleasure in seeing +you under our roof. I had you in my mind in the preparation of my +sermon." + +Mr. Grier was a tall, thin man, with watery blue eyes, and a sparse sandy +beard growing like a fringe under his chin from ear to ear. He moved his +jaws nervously as he waited for her answer, and plucked at his beard with +long, lean fingers. + +Helen smiled. "Did you think I should be a large contributor to foreign +missions, Mr. Grier?" + +"No, ma'am," he answered solemnly, "I was not thinking of any benefit to +the heathen. I had somewhat to say which I felt might be for the good of +your own soul." + +Helen flushed, and flung her head back with a haughty look. "Ah,--you are +very good, I'm sure," she said, "but"-- + +Mr. Grier interrupted her, wagging his head up and down upon his breast: +"Brother Ward will forgive me for saying so, ma'am, but I had your +welfare at heart. Brother Ward, you have my prayers for your dear wife." + +"I--I thank you," John said, "but you must not feel that my wife is far +from the Lord. Have you been told that the truth is not clear to her +eyes? Yet it will be!" + +"I hope so,--I hope so," responded Mr. Grier, but with very little hope +in his voice; and then, shaking the reins, he jogged on down the shadowy +road. + +"What does he mean?" cried Helen, her voice trembling with anger, and +careless whether the retreating minister overheard her. John gave her a +long, tender look. + +"Dearest," he said, "I am sorry he should have spoken as he did, but the +prayers of a good man"-- + +"I don't want his prayers," she interrupted, bewildered; "it seems to me +simply impertinence!" + +"Helen," he said, "it cannot be impertinence to pray for a soul in +danger, as yours is, my darling. I cannot tell how he knew it, but it is +so. It is my sin which has kept you blind and hidden the truth from you, +and how can I be angry if another man joins his prayers to mine for your +eternal salvation?" + +"You say this because I do not believe in eternal punishment, John?" she +asked. + +"Yes," he answered gently, "first because of that, and then because of +all the errors of belief to which that leads." + +"It all seems so unimportant," she said, sighing; "certainly nothing +which could make me claim the prayers of a stranger. Ah, well, no doubt +he means it kindly, but don't let us speak of it any more, dearest." + +Their horses were so close, that, glancing shyly about for a moment into +the twilight, Helen laid her head against his arm, and looked tenderly +into his face. + +He started, and then put a quick arm about her to keep her from falling. +"No," he said, "no, I will not forget." It was as though he answered some +voice in his soul, and Helen looked at him in troubled wonder. + +The rest of the ride was very silent. Once, when he stopped to tighten +her saddle-girth for her, she bent his head back, and smiled down into +his eyes. He only answered her by a look, but it was enough. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Gifford Woodhouse was not quite honest with himself when he said that he +felt it was time to go back to Ashurst to make his aunts a visit. He had +been restless and absent-minded very often since that flying trip in the +early spring. In spite of his sternest reasoning, hope was beginning to +grow up in his heart again. Dick Forsythe had not come to Ashurst, and +Helen said plainly that she knew Lois was not engaged to him. So why +should not Gifford himself be on the spot? + +"Not that I would bother Lois," he argued in his own mind, "but just to +know if"--And besides, he really ought to see the two little ladies. + +He left Lockhaven a few days after John Ward had preached his sermon on +foreign missions at Chester. It was reported to have been "powerful," +and Elder Dean said he wished "our own people could have been benefited +by it." + +"I thought the heathen were expected to be benefited by such sermons," +Gifford said, twisting a cigarette between his fingers, as he leaned over +the half-door of the elder's shop, lazily watching a long white shaving +curl up under his plane. "I thought the object was a large contribution." + +The elder looked up solemnly, and opened his lips with vast deliberation. +"Lawyer Woodhouse," he said, "that's your mistake. They're fer the +purpose of instructing us that the heathen is damned, so that we will +rejoice in our own salvation, and make haste to accept it if we are +unconverted." + +He looked hard at the young man as he spoke, for every one knew Lawyer +Woodhouse did not go regularly to church, and so, presumably, was not a +Christian. + +Then Mr. Dean, while he pulled the shavings out of his plane, and threw +them on the fragrant heap at his feet, said one or two things which made +Gifford stop lounging and forget his cigarette while he listened with a +grave face. "Unbelief in the church," "the example for our youth," "the +heresy of the preacher's wife." + +This was not the first time Gifford had heard such comments, but there +was a threat in Mr. Dean's voice, though he did not put it into words, +which made the young man carry a growing anxiety about Helen away with +him. He could not forget it, even in the rejoicings of his home-coming, +and he gave guarded answers about her which were unlike his usual +frankness. + +Lois noticed it, and wondered a little, but was perhaps more annoyed than +troubled by it. + +The shyness of her welcome Gifford quite misunderstood. + +"After all," he thought, "what was the use of coming? Whatever Forsythe's +chances are, there is one thing sure,--she does not care for me. She used +to have that old friendly way, at least; but even that is gone, now. I +might have known it. I was a fool to run into the fire again. Thank +Heaven, that cad isn't here. When he comes, I'll go!" + +And so he wandered forlornly about, his hands in his pockets, and a +disconsolate look on his face which greatly distressed his aunts. +Somehow, too, the big fellow's presence for any length of time +embarrassed them. They had been so long without a man in the house, they +realized suddenly that he took up a great deal of room, and that their +small subjects of conversation could not interest him. + +"Perhaps," said Miss Ruth shrewdly, "he has found some nice girl in +Lockhaven, and misses her. What do you think, sister?" + +"It is not impossible," answered Miss Deborah; "but, dear me, sister, +if only Helen Jeffrey had not married so young! I always felt that +Providence pointed to her for dear Giff." + +"Well," said Miss Ruth, a little color creeping into her cheek, "I think +Providence does arrange such things, and as Helen seems much attached to +Mr. Ward, no doubt that was meant. It is gratifying to think such things +always are meant. I have even thought that when a person no longer very +young, even quite advanced in life, remains unmarried, it was because the +other, appointed by Heaven, died, no doubt in infancy." + +Miss Deborah sniffed. "I should be sorry to think all marriages were +planned by Providence," she said, "for it would seem that Providence +showed very poor judgment sometimes. Look at Henry Dale. I'm sure there +were--_others_, who would have made him happier, and been quite as good +housekeepers, too." + +Miss Ruth mentioned her suspicion of the "nice girl in Lockhaven" to +Lois, while Miss Deborah added that it was really no pleasure to cook for +dear Giff; he was so out of spirits he didn't seem to care for anything; +he did not even eat the whigs, and Lois knew how fond he was of whigs. +Very likely dear Ruth was right. + +This made Lois's interest in Gifford still deeper, though she said, +tossing her head with airy impatience, that she did not believe there +were any nice girls in Lockhaven; there were only working people there. +Then she thought of that talk with Gifford at the stone bench, and +recalled the promise she had made, and how she had sealed it. Her cheeks +burned till they hurt her. + +"He has forgotten it all, long ago," she said to herself; "men never +remember such things. Well, he sha'n't think I remember!" + +But how often Gifford remembered! + +One afternoon he walked over to the stone bench, and sat down on the very +same sunken step from which he had looked up into Lois's face that June +evening. He saw a bunch of violets growing just where her foot must have +rested, and what was more natural--for Gifford was still young--than that +pencil and note-book should appear, and, with a long-drawn sigh, he +should write hastily,-- + + O Violet, + Dost thou forget? + +and then stop, perhaps to sharpen his pencil, and, if the truth be told, +to cast about for a rhyme. + +Alas, that love and poetry should be checked by anything so commonplace +as syllables! Let--wet--yet,--one can fit in the sense easily when the +proper rhyme has been decided upon; and who knows but that Gifford, lying +there in the grass, with the old lichen-covered step for a desk, might +have written a sonnet or a madrigal which would have given him his +heart's desire before the moon rose! But an interruption came. + +The rector and Mr. Denner were coming back from fishing, along the road +on the other side of the hedge, and Dr. Howe turned in here to follow the +garden path home, instead of taking the longer way. Both pushed through a +gap in the hedge, and discovered Gifford lying in the grass by the stone +bench. + +"Hello!" said the rector. "Working up a case, young man?" + +Perhaps Gifford was not altogether displeased to be interrupted; the +song we might have sung is always sweetest. At all events, he very +good-naturedly put his note-book back in his pocket, and rolling over on +his stomach, his elbows crushing down the soft grass and his fists under +his chin, began to talk to the two elder men. + +"Had good luck?" + +The rector shook his head ruefully. "Denner has two trout. Fate was +against me. Any fishing about Lockhaven, Gifford? Ward do any?" + +Gifford laughed. "He only fishes for men," he said. "He devotes himself +to it day and night. Especially of late; his fear of hell-fire for other +people's souls has seemed to take great hold on him." + +"Gad!" said Dr. Howe. "He's a queer fellow." + +"He's a good fellow," Gifford answered warmly. "And as to his belief, +why, you believe in hell, don't you, doctor?" + +"Oh, bless my soul, yes," said Dr. Howe, with a laugh, and with a twinkle +in his eyes. "I must, you know, and it's well to be on the safe side, +Giff; if you believe it here, theoretically, it is to be supposed you +won't believe it there, experimentally!" He laughed again, his big, jolly +laugh. "Good-by, Denner. You took all the luck." + +Then he trudged whistling up the path, striking at the hollyhocks with +his rod, and wondering how long it would take Sally to brush the mud off +his corduroys. + +But Mr. Denner delayed. He laid his rod tenderly down on the grass, and +his fishing-basket on the stone bench beside him. Gifford's sense of +humor padded a good many of the sharp points of life; he had to look less +doleful when he saw that the lawyer had chosen Lois's seat, and even her +attitude; his little shriveled hands were clasped upon his knees, and he +was bending forward, looking at the young man as he talked. Gifford +thought of a sonnet in his left breast-pocket, beginning, "To one who sat +'neath rustling poplar-tree," and smiled. + +"Well, now," said Mr. Denner, "it is pleasant to see you at home again, +Gifford. It must be a pleasure to your aunts." + +"It is a great pleasure to me," the young man replied. "I only wish that +I could carry them back to Lockhaven with me." + +"What, both of them?" Mr. Denner asked, in an alarmed way. + +"Oh, of course," answered the other; "they couldn't be separated. Why, +you cannot think of one of them without thinking of the other!" + +Mr. Denner sighed. "Just so, just so. I have observed that." + +"But I'm afraid," Gifford went on, "they wouldn't be quite happy there. +There's no church, you know,--I mean no Episcopal Church,--and then it +isn't like Ashurst. Except Helen and Mr. Ward, there are only working +people, though, for that matter, Ward works harder than anybody else. +Yes, they would miss Ashurst too much." + +"You really think they would miss--us?" said Mr. Denner eagerly. + +"Yes," responded Gifford slowly. He was beginning to look at the bunch of +violets again, and his aunts did not seem so interesting. + +"Well, now," Mr. Denner said, "I am sure I am glad to hear you say that, +very glad. We--ah--should miss them, I assure you." + +Gifford reached out and plucked up the violets by the roots, to save them +from Mr. Denner's drab gaiter, and planted them deep in a crevice of the +steps. + +"Ah--Gifford," said the lawyer, after he had waited a reasonable time for +an answer, "a--a friend of mine is in some perplexity concerning an +attachment; he wished my advice." + +Gifford began to look interested. + +"Foreclosure?" + +"You--ah, you do not exactly catch my meaning," answered the little +gentleman nervously. "I refer--he referred to an affair of--of the +affections. Of course you are too young to really understand these +things from a--a romantic point of view, as it were, but being a lawyer, +your--a--legal training--would make you consider such a matter +intelligently, and I might like your advice." + +"Oh!" said Gifford, seeming to grasp the situation. "Yes; I had one case +of that kind in Lockhaven. Jury gave damages to my client; seems they +had been engaged twelve years when she jilted him. I detest those +breach-of-promise suits; they"-- + +Mr. Denner bounded from his seat. "My dear boy, my dear sir," he gasped, +"not at all, not at all! You do not apprehend me, Gifford. My friend is +in love, sir; he wished my advice, not legally, you understand, but in +regard to his choice!" + +"Your advice!" Gifford burst out, but instantly apologized by saying he +believed it was not usual to ask advice in such matters,--a man usually +knew. But perhaps he was mistaken. + +"Yes--I am inclined to think you are," responded Mr. Denner, with a +jauntiness which sat strangely upon his wrinkled face,--"I think you are. +Being still a very young person, Gifford, you scarcely understand the +importance of such matters, and the--ah--wisdom of seeking advice. I +believe it is always said that youth does not realize the importance of +advice. But the fact is, my friend has placed his affections upon two +ladies. They are connections, and both he represents to be estimable +persons; both, as I understand it, equally admirable. Equally, you +observe, Gifford. And he is unable to make up his mind which is the +most--I should say the more--desirable. I, unfortunately, was unable +to throw any light upon the subject." + +"Do you know the young ladies?" asked Gifford. + +"I--I may say I have met them," admitted Mr. Denner. + +"And how did you advise him?" Gifford asked, his face preternaturally +grave. + +Mr. Denner looked anxious. "That is just it. I have been unable to come +to any conclusion. I wondered if--if I spoke of their characteristics in +a general way (they are both so truly estimable) you might have an +opinion. He did think he could reach a decision, he tells me, for a +friend of his thought he knew a proverb which would throw a light upon +it." + +"Settle it by a proverb!" cried Gifford. + +"Yes," answered Mr. Denner firmly, "yes; and an excellent way it would +be, if one could find the proverb." + +The air of offended dignity in Mr. Denner's face sobered Gifford at once. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," he said; "the method was new to me, though it +is, no doubt, excellent. May I ask the proverb?" + +But the lawyer was hurt. "It is not worth while to mention it. It was +not--not suitable. It did not enable my friend to reach a decision, after +all; it was merely something in regard to whist." + +Gifford hid his face in the grass for a moment, and then he said again, +"I--I beg your pardon, Mr. Denner; it struck me as an unusual way of +settling a love affair. Your friend must have been much disappointed?" + +"He was, he was, sir," answered Mr. Denner, not knowing whether to be +angry or injured, and picking up his reel and rod with trembling hands. + +"Well, now," Gifford said, sitting up and leaning his arms upon his +knees, the laughter still glimmering in his gray eyes, "I could give you +a proverb,--unless they are twins?" + +Mr. Denner sat down again on the stone bench, and looked at him eagerly. + +"No, Gifford, they are not twins,--no. There is a good ten years between +them." + +"Then," said the young man, "what does your friend want better than 'Age +before beauty'? Let him propose to the elder." + +Mr. Denner laid his rod down upon the grass, and, rising, extended his +hand to his companion. + +"Gifford," he said, "you are an intelligent young man,--a remarkable +young man, sir. I knew it when I determined to ask your advice--for my +friend. I thank you. My--my friend thanks you, Gifford. He will act upon +this at once; he is forever indebted to you, sir." + +It was all so solemn that Gifford's gravity lasted until the little +gentleman had disappeared through the hedge, and was far down the road; +then he hid his face in the grass, and laughed aloud. + +But Mr. Denner was happy. He fairly beamed as he walked along, +repeating the proverb to himself. "Yes," he said, "nothing could be +better--nothing. How strange that it has not occurred to me before, or +that Henry should not have thought of it! 'Age before beauty!' Yes, just +so,--just so!" + +While he was meditating thus happily, he heard behind him that curious, +irregular beat which only the hoofs of a runaway horse can make, and the +whirl of flying wheels swinging from side to side. He sprang to one side +of the road, his little heart pounding with sudden fright, and looked +back to see the rectory phaeton, reeling and almost overturning, dragged +madly at the heels of the shaggy little pony. They came flying toward +him. Mr. Denner caught a glimpse, through the cloud of dust, of Lois +Howe's white face, and a shrinking figure clinging to her. A gray veil +fluttered across the face, so that Mr. Denner could not tell who it was, +but instantly it flashed through his mind, "It is one of them!" He threw +down his basket and rod, and braced himself for the shock of the +encounter with the plunging horse; his little nerves, never very firm, +were strung like steel. Somehow, in that instant of waiting, the proverb +was forgotten; he felt that fate would decide for him. "It shall be this +one!" he said aloud,--"this one!" Then the horse seemed upon him; he did +not know when he made that jump at the bridle, or felt the iron hoof +strike his breast; he had only a confused sense of seeing the gray figure +thrown out upon the ground just as he found himself falling backwards. +Then he lost consciousness. + +When he came to himself, and saw the trees and bushes dance strangely +about him for a moment, he found that he had been lifted over to the +grass at the roadside, and that Gifford Woodhouse's arm was under his +head. As his eyes grew steady, he saw that two men were holding the +trembling, steaming horse, and that a little group of people were +standing about the phaeton; but the gray figure had disappeared. +Gifford was fanning him, and pressing something to his lips with a +gentle, anxious hand. + +"Gifford," he said faintly--"ah--which?" + +"They are neither of them hurt, thank God," answered the young man +reverently, "but they owe their lives to you, Mr. Denner." + +"Yes--but"--he struggled to say--"which--which was it?" + +"He means who was it," said the rector, who had taken his place on +the other side of the injured man. "It was my daughter--God bless you, +Denner!--and Mrs. Forsythe." + +Mr. Denner groaned, and shut his eyes. "Oh, it wasn't either," he +murmured; "that's always the way!" + +"His mind is wandering," Gifford said, in a low voice. "I'm afraid this +is very serious, doctor. Do you think he can be moved now?" + +The lawyer did not try to prove his sanity; he only groaned again, but +this time it was partly from pain. They lifted him gently, and carried +him into his own house, which he had nearly reached when the runaway +overtook him. + +Both the women in the carriage had been thrown out, but Lois was able to +walk, and so far as could be ascertained Mrs. Forsythe was unhurt, save +for the shock, which sent her from one fainting fit into another until +late that night. They had carried her back to the rectory, Lois clinging +to one limp hand, and crying hysterically. + +"Oh, she will die," she sobbed, "I know she will die; and it is my fault, +it is my carelessness! You needn't say it isn't, father. I know it is! +Oh, what shall I do!" + +But there was nothing to do; and Mrs. Dale, who had been hastily +summoned,--for her reputation for nursing was even wider than Miss +Deborah's for housekeeping,--only put her to bed, "to get her out of the +way," she said, but really because she was filled with sympathy for her +niece's remorse, and felt that the forgetfulness of sleep was the only +comfort for her. + +"I'll tell you what it is, brother," she said,--she had quietly settled +herself in authority at the rectory, despite Jean's air of contemptuous +dignity--"I believe Arabella Forsythe will have a chance to die, at last. +She's been looking for it these ten years, and as soon as she stops +fainting it will be a positive satisfaction to her. I'm afraid she is +really a very sick woman." + +But no such thought did she impart to Lois, when she tucked her up in +bed, giving her a hearty kiss with her soothing draught, and bidding her +have some sense and stop crying, for Mrs. Forsythe would be all right in +the morning. But the morning brought no comfort; the doctor, who had come +from Mercer as quickly as Mrs. Dale's horses could bring him, was very +grave. + +"The shock to the nervous system," he said,--"we cannot tell what it will +do." + +Lois was so prostrated by grief at Mrs. Forsythe's condition, no one +dared tell her that Mr. Denner was the immediate anxiety. There was an +injury to the spine, and the plunging hoofs had done more harm than was +at first supposed; things looked very serious for the little gentleman. + +The lawyer had fainted when he was lifted over his gloomy threshold, +where Mary stood waiting and wringing her hands, and had struggled back +to consciousness to find himself on the big, slippery horse-hair sofa, in +his dusky library. Dr. Howe was standing at his side, looking anxiously +down at him, and a neighbor was trying to slip a pillow under his head. +Gifford had gone to help Mary bring a bed down-stairs, for the slightest +movement caused Mr. Denner pain, and they dared not lift him, even to +take him up to his bedroom. + +"What is the matter?" Mr. Denner tried to say. "I seem to be giving +trouble. Ah--pray do not mind me, doctor." + +"You were hurt, you know, Denner," said the rector, whose feet were +planted wide apart, and his hands thrust down in his pockets, and who +felt oppressed by the consciousness of his own superabundant vitality, +for the lawyer looked so small and thin, and his voice was hardly more +than a whisper. "You've been a little faint. You'll be all right soon. +But Giff's going to put a bed up in here for you, because you might find +it uncomfortable to try to get up-stairs, you know." + +Mr. Denner looked anxious at this; he wondered if Mary would not be +offended; but he was too strangely weary to talk, and his little +twinkling eyes were dim and blurred. + +Gifford and Mary had carried down the four big posts of Mr. Denner's bed, +which looked like mahogany obelisks, and began to put it together, with +many interruptions for Mary to wipe her eyes on the corner of her gingham +apron, and remark it would soon be over, and she did not know where she +would ever get such another place. Once the rector turned and sharply +bade her hold her tongue. Mr. Denner opened his eyes at that, though he +had scarcely seemed to hear her. Nor did he know why Gifford and the +rector talked so long with the doctor on the broad flat stone at the +front door, in the fragrant spring twilight. Afterwards he beckoned +Gifford to him. + +He did not quite like, he said, to leave his rod out over night; he could +go and get it in the morning, he knew, but if it wouldn't be too much +trouble, he would be obliged if Gifford would bring it in. And there were +two trout in the basket: perhaps he would be good enough to present them, +with his compliments, to the Misses Woodhouse. Gifford went for the rod, +but could not go back without an inquiry at the rectory. + +"Arabella Forsythe," said Mrs. Dale,--"well, as I told brother, I think +this is her opportunity. She really is in a bad way, Giff. Lois wasn't +hurt at all, wonderful to say; but, naturally, she's in great distress, +because she blames herself for the whole thing." + +"How so?" asked Gifford. + +"Well, of course," Mrs. Dale answered, rubbing her little red nose with +her handkerchief, and with a suspicious mist in her eyes,--"of course it +really was her fault, only we mustn't let her know we think so. You see, +she was driving. (I've always said women don't know how to drive; they're +too inconsequent.) She wasn't paying attention to her horse, and let a +rein slip. Before she could pick it up, the horse shied at a newspaper +blowing along the road. Well, you know the rest. But Lois does not know +that we think it was her carelessness." + +Gifford hesitated a moment, and then said slowly, "But wouldn't it be +better to help her face the truth of it now? There is no use to try to +escape self-reproaches that have their root in facts." + +"Nonsense!" responded Mrs. Dale sharply. "I thought you had more +sympathy!" + +Gifford had told his aunts of the accident, when he brought them the +offering of the two small fishes, and the ladies were full of distress +and anxiety, and the flutter of excited interest which would be sure to +be felt in a place like Ashurst. They had gone at once to the rectory, to +see if they could be of use, though, as Miss Deborah said to her sister, +"with Adele Dale there, of course there is nothing more to be desired." +Nevertheless, the next morning, Miss Ruth ran over with a bowl of wine +jelly from Miss Deborah, and brought back word that Mrs. Forsythe was +"still breathing;" and that the gravest apprehensions were felt for Mr. +Denner. + +Miss Deborah was waiting in the parlor to hear the news; so important an +occasion seemed to demand the dignity of the parlor, and in a high-backed +armchair, with her feet on a cricket and a fresh handkerchief in her +hand, she listened to Miss Ruth's agitated and tearful story. + +"I will make some whips for William Denner," she said promptly, as Miss +Ruth finished, "and we will take them to him this afternoon." + +"Well, but, sister," said Miss Ruth, hesitating, "do you think--we'd +better? Ought not we to let Giff take them?" + +"Why?" asked Miss Deborah. "He is able to see us, isn't he?" + +"It is not quite that," answered the younger sister nervously, taking +off her bonnet, and beginning to roll the strings tight and smooth +between her fingers, "but--he is in--his chamber, sister. Would it be +quite--proper?" + +"I think," said Miss Deborah, holding her head very straight, "we are old +enough to"-- + +"You may be," returned Miss Ruth firmly, "but I am not." + +Miss Deborah was silent for a moment; then she said, "Well, perhaps you +are right, dear Ruth; though he is certainly very ill, and didn't you say +he was in the library?" + +"Yes," said Miss Ruth, "he is very ill, but the fact of his couch being +in the library does not alter it. If anything sad should be going to +happen,--it would be different, then." + +"Of course," assented Miss Deborah. + +"You see," Miss Ruth explained, "if we saw him, and then he got well, it +would be very awkward." + +"True," said Miss Deborah. "And certainly single women cannot be too +delicate in such matters. We will send the whips by Giff. Poor, poor +William Denner! Let me see,--were you to be his partner on Saturday? Oh, +no, I recollect: it was I,--it was my turn." + +"I think not," Miss Ruth replied gently; "you played last week. I should +have played with him this time." + +"Not at all," said Miss Deborah firmly, "he was mine." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The suspense was very hard for Lois Howe to bear. + +When Mrs. Dale drove her from the sick-room for air and exercise, she +wandered restlessly about the rectory, or went to Mr. Denner's door +to beg a word of encouragement from Mary, or take a momentary comfort +from the messages he sent her that he was better, and he begged she +would not allow herself the slightest discomfort; it was really of no +consequence,--no consequence at all. + +Gifford was almost always with the little gentleman, and scarcely left +him, even to walk through the garden to the grassy street with Lois. On +Sunday, however, late in the afternoon, he went home with her; for Mr. +Dale, with whom she had come, was going to sit awhile with Mr. Denner, +and Gifford felt he could be spared. + +The hour was full of that peculiar Sunday afternoon quiet which seems to +subdue even the crickets and the birds. There was a breath of fragrance +from some fresh-cut grass, still wet from a noon thunder shower, which +had left the air crystal-clear and fresh. Their shadows stretched far +ahead along the road, where the dust was still damp, though the setting +sun poured a flood of yellow light behind them. Lois walked as though +very tired; she scarcely noticed her companion, and did not speak except +to answer his questions. + +"Isn't there any change in Mrs. Forsythe?" he asked, with anxious +sympathy. + +Lois shook her head. "No," she said. + +"Hasn't the rector gotten word to her son yet?" + +"No," Lois said again. "We telegraphed twice, but he seems to be out of +town, and nobody knows his address." + +Gifford made no comment. + +"I wish he would come!" the girl cried passionately. "It would be a +relief to have him reproach me." + +"I hope there will be no need of reproaches. I do hope his mother will +get well." + +"Oh, no, no," Lois said, "she won't! I know it." + +"Try to be more hopeful," he urged. "The doctor said there was absolutely +no injury except the shock. I believe she will get well, Lois." + +"Oh, you don't know her," Lois answered. "You don't know how frail she +is. And then there's Mr. Denner! It is the responsibility of it that +kills me, Giff! I cannot get away from it for one single minute." + +They had walked along the road where the accident had taken place, and +Lois shivered as she saw the trampled grass, though it had been her wish +that they should come this way. + +"Oh," she said, putting her hands over her eyes, "life can never look the +same to me, even if they get well!" + +"No," Gifford said, "I understand that. But it may have a new sweetness +of gratitude, Lois." + +When they came to the gap in the hedge which was the outlet for the +rectory path, Gifford held aside the twigs for her to enter. + +"Let us sit down on the stone bench a little while," he said. "This is +where poor little Mr. Denner sat that afternoon. Oh," he added in a lower +tone, "just think from what a grief he may have saved us! I feel as +though I could never be able to show him my gratitude." Then he looked at +the transplanted bunch of violets, which was fresh and flourishing, and +was silent. + +Lois sat down a little reluctantly. The memory of that June night, nearly +a year ago, flashed into her mind; she felt the color creep up to her +forehead. "Oh," she thought, "how contemptible I am to have any thought +but grief,--how shallow I am, how cruel!" + +And to punish herself for this, she rushed into speaking of her +responsibility again. + +Gifford noticed her nervousness. "She is afraid of me," he said to +himself. "She wouldn't be, if she cared." + +"You see, Gifford," she began, "I keep saying to myself every moment, +'I did it--it was my carelessness--all, all my fault.' Father tried to +comfort me, and so did Mrs. Forsythe as soon as she could speak, and Mr. +Denner has sent word that I must not give him a thought (dear Mr. +Denner!), but oh, I know!" + +Gifford looked at her pale face, with the sweet trembling lip. "It is +awfully hard for you," he said. + +"Every one said I was not to blame," she went on unsteadily, "that it +was not my fault; but, Gifford, if they die, I shall have been their +murderer!" + +She pressed her hands tight together to keep her self-control. + +"No, Lois," he answered gently, "it is not right to feel that; your will +would be to die now for either of them" ("Oh, yes, yes!" she said), "so +don't blame yourself any more than you must." + +"Than I must?" she repeated slowly, looking at him with questioning eyes. +"How do you mean? They say there is no blame, Gifford." + +He did not answer; his face was full of a grieved reluctance. + +"Why," she said, with a quick breath, "do you blame me?" + +Gifford put his strong, steady hand impulsively over hers. "I only know +how you must blame yourself," he said pitifully. "I wish I could bear the +pain of it for you." + +"Then you say it is my fault?" she asked slowly. + +"Yes, Lois," he answered, looking down at her with anxious tenderness. +"I wish I didn't have to say it, but if it is true, if you were careless, +it's best to meet it. I--I wish you would let me help you bear it." + +Lois sat up very straight, as though bracing herself against a blow. "You +are right. I knew it was all my fault; I said so. But there's no help. +Let us go home now, please." + +Gifford rose silently, and they went together between the sweet-smelling +borders, up to the rectory. "I wish I could help you," he said wistfully, +as she turned to say good-night at the foot of the steps. + +"You cannot," she answered briefly. "No one can; and there's nothing I +can do to make up for it. I cannot even die as an atonement. Oh, if I +could only die!" + +Gifford walked back, distressed and shocked; he was not old enough yet to +know that the desire of death is part of youth, and it seemed as though +he too had incurred a great responsibility. "What a brute I was to say +it!" he said to himself. "I feel as though I had struck a woman. And it +made her wish she was dead,--good heavens! How cruel I was! Yet if it was +true, it must have been right to tell her; I suppose it was my brutal +way!" + +Lois went at once to Mrs. Forsythe's bedside, eager to hear of some +improvement, but the invalid only shook her head wearily. + +"No, no better," she said; "still breathing, that's all. But you must not +grieve; it only distresses me." + +Lois knelt down, and softly kissed her hand. + +"My only trouble," Mrs. Forsythe continued, "is about my boy. Who will +take care of him when I am gone?" + +She said much more than this, and perhaps even Gifford's persistent +justice could not have sustained the conviction that he had done right to +tell Lois that the blame of the accident rested upon her, if he had known +the thoughts of a possible atonement which passed through her mind when +Mrs. Forsythe spoke thus of her son. It was not the first time since her +injury that she had told Lois of her anxiety for Dick's future, and now +the girl left her with a dazed and aching heart. + +Mrs. Dale, full of importance and authority, met her in the hall. + +"I've got some beef-tea for Arabella Forsythe," she said, balancing the +tray she carried on one hand, and lifting the white napkin with the other +to see that it was all right, "if I can only persuade her to take it. I +never saw anybody who needed so much coaxing. But there! I must not be +hard on her; she is pretty sick, I must say,--and how she does enjoy it! +I said she would. But really, Lois, if we don't have some word from that +young man soon, I don't know what we shall do, for she is certainly worse +to-night. Your father has just had a letter from somebody, saying that he +went away with some friends on a pleasure trip, and didn't leave his +address. I thought he was so anxious to get to Ashurst,--well, that +is Arabella's story. I shouldn't wonder if he didn't see his mother +alive,--that's all I've got to say!" + +She nodded her sleek head, and disappeared into the sick-room. Lois had a +sudden contraction of the heart that made her lips white. "If aunt Deely +says Mrs. Forsythe is worse, it is surely very bad." + +She stumbled blindly up-stairs; she wanted to get away from everybody, +and look this horrible fact in the face. She found her way to the garret, +whose low, wide window, full of little panes of heavy greenish glass, +looked over the tree-tops towards the western sky, still faintly yellow +with sunset light, and barred by long films of gray cloud. She knelt down +and laid her cheek against the sill, which was notched and whittled by +childish hands; for this had been a play-room once, and many a rainy +afternoon she and Helen and Gifford had spent here, masquerading in the +queer dresses and bonnets packed away in the green chests ranged against +the wall, or swinging madly in the little swing which hung from the bare +rafters, until the bunches of southernwood and sweet-marjoram and the +festoons of dried apples shook on their nails. She looked at the stars +and hearts carved on the sill, and a big "Gifford" hacked into the wood, +and she followed the letters absently with her finger. + +"He blames me," she said to herself; "he sees the truth of it. How shall +I make up for it? What can I do?" + +She stayed by the window until the clouds turned black in the west; down +in the heavy darkness of the garden the crickets began their monotonous +z-z-ing, and in the locust-trees the katydids answered each other with a +sharp, shrill cry. Then she crept down-stairs and sat outside of Mrs. +Forsythe's room, that she might hear the slightest sound, or note the +flicker of the night-lamp burning dimly on the stand at the bedside. + +Gifford, sitting in another sick-room, was suffering with her, and +blaming himself, in spite of principle. + +Mr. Denner lay in his big bed in the middle of the library. The blinds +were drawn up to the tops of the long, narrow windows, that the last +gleam of light might enter, but the room was full of shadows, save where +a taper flickered on a small table which held the medicines. + +"I think," said Mr. Denner, folding his little hands upon his breast,--"I +think, Gifford, that the doctor was not quite frank with me, to-day. I +thought it proper to ask him if my injury was at all of a serious nature, +if it might have--ah--I ought to apologize for speaking of unpleasant +things--if it might have an untoward ending. He merely remarked that all +injuries had possibilities of seriousness in them; he appeared in haste, +and anxious to get away, so I did not detain him, thinking he might have +an important case elsewhere. But it seemed as though he was not quite +frank, Gifford; as though, in fact, he evaded. I did not press it, +fearing to embarrass him, but I think he evaded." + +Gifford also evaded. "He did not say anything which seemed evasive to me, +Mr. Denner. He was busy charging me to remember your medicines, and he +stopped to say a word about your bravery, too." + +Mr. Denner shook his head deprecatingly at this, but he seemed pleased. +"Oh, not at all, it was nothing,--it was of no consequence." One of the +shutters blew softly to, and darkened the room; Gifford rose, and, +leaning from the window, fastened it back against the ivy which had +twisted about the hinge from the stained bricks of the wall. "I cannot +claim any bravery," the sick man went on. "No. It was, as it were, +accidental, Gifford." + +"Accidental?" said the young man. "How could that be? I heard the horse, +and ran down the road after the phaeton just in time to see you make that +jump, and save her." + +Mr. Denner sighed. "No," he replied, "no, it was quite by chance. +I--I was mistaken. I am glad I did not know, however, for I might have +hesitated. As it was, laboring under a misapprehension, I had no time to +be afraid." + +"I don't think I quite understand," said Gifford. + +Mr. Denner was silent. The room was so dark now, he could scarcely +see the young man's face as he stood leaning against one of the huge +bed-posts. Behind him, Mr. Denner just distinguished his big secretary, +with its pigeon-holes neatly labeled, and with papers filed in an orderly +way. No one had closed it since the afternoon that he had been carried in +and laid on the horse-hair sofa. He had given Mary the key then, and had +asked her to fetch the bottle of brandy from one of the long divisions +where it stood beside a big ledger. The little gentleman had hesitated to +give trouble in asking to have it locked again, though that it should be +open offended his ideas of privacy. Now he looked at it, and then let his +eyes rest upon the nephew of the Misses Woodhouse. + +"Gifford," he said, "would you be so obliging as to take the small brass +key from my ring,"--here he thrust his lean hand under his pillow, and +produced his bunch of keys, which jingled as he held them unsteadily +out,--"and unlock the little lower drawer in the left-hand side of my +writing-desk?" + +Gifford took the ring over to the candle, which made the shadow of his +head loom up on the opposite wall, as he bent to find the little brass +key among a dozen others of all shapes and sizes. + +"I have unlocked it, sir," he said, a moment later. + +"Take the candle, if you please," responded Mr. Denner, "and you will +see, I think, in the right-hand corner, back, under a small roll, a flat, +square parcel." + +"Yes, sir," Gifford answered, holding the candle in his left hand, and +carefully lifting the parcel. + +"Under that," proceeded Mr. Denner, "is an oval package. If you will be +good enough to hand me that, Gifford. Stay,--will you lock the drawer +first, if you please, and the desk?" + +Gifford did so, and then put the package into Mr. Denner's hands. He held +it a moment before he gently removed the soft, worn tissue paper in which +it was wrapped; his very touch was a caress. + +"I was desirous," he said, "of having this by me. It is a miniature of my +little sister, sir. She--perhaps you scarcely remember her? She died when +I was twenty. That is forty-one years ago. A long time, Gifford, a long +time to have missed her. She is the only thing of--of that nature that I +have loved--since I was twenty." + +He stopped, and held the miniature up to look at it; but the light had +faded, and the ivory only gleamed faintly. + +"I look at this every day when I am in health, and I like it by me now. +No, not the candle, I thank you, Gifford. I called for it now (how +tarnished these pearls are in the frame! If--if I should not recover, it +must be reset. Perhaps you will see to that for me, Gifford?),--I called +for it now, because I wished to say, in the event of my--demise, I should +wish this given to one of your aunts, sir." + +Gifford came out from the shadow at the foot of the bed, and took Mr. +Denner's hand. He did not speak; he had only the man's way of showing +sympathy, and one weaker than Gifford could not have resisted the piteous +longing for life in Mr. Denner's tone, and would have hastened to +reassure him. But Gifford only held his hand in a firm, gentle grasp, +and was silent. + +"I should wish one of them to have it," he continued. "I have not +provided for its welfare in my will; I had thought there was no one for +whom I had enough--enough regard, to intrust them with it. I even thought +to destroy it when I became old. Some people might wish to carry it with +them to the grave, but I could not--oh, no, not my little sister! See, +Gifford--take it to the light--not that little merry face. I should like +to think it was with your aunts. And--and there is, as it were, a certain +propriety in sending it to--her." + +Gifford took the miniature from the lawyer's hand, and, kneeling by the +candle, looked at it. The faded velvet case held only the rosy, happy +face of a little child; not very pretty, perhaps, but with eyes which +had smiled into Mr. Denner's for forty years, and Gifford held it in +reverent hands. + +"Yes," said the old man, "I would like one of them to have it." + +"I shall remember it, sir," Gifford answered, putting the case down on +the lawyer's pillow. + +The room was quite still for a few moments, and then Mr. Denner said, +"Gifford, it was quite accidental, quite by mistake, as it were, that I +stopped the horse for Mrs. Forsythe and little Lois. I--I thought, sir, +it was one of your aunts. One of your aunts, do you understand Gifford? +You know what I said to you, at the stone bench, that afternoon? I--I +alluded to myself, sir." + +Gifford was silent, almost breathless; it all came back to him,--the +warm, still afternoon, the sunshine, the faintly rustling leaves of the +big silver poplar, and Mr. Denner's friend's love story. But only the +pathos and the tenderness of it showed themselves to him now. He put his +hand up to his eyes, a moment; somehow, he felt as though this was +something too sacred for him to see. + +"I know, sir," he said; "I--I see." + +"I trust," Mr. Denner continued, in a relieved voice, "there is no +impropriety in mentioning this to you, though you are still a youth. You +have seemed older these last few days, more--ah--sedate, if I may so +express it. They--they frequently speak as though you were quite a youth, +whereas it appears to me you should be considered the head of the +family,--yes, the head of the family. And therefore it seemed to me +fitting that I should mention this to you, because I wished to request +you to dispose of the miniature. It would have been scarcely proper to do +otherwise, scarcely honorable, sir." + +"I am grateful to you for doing so," Gifford replied gently. "I beg you +will believe how entirely I appreciate the honor of your confidence." + +"Oh, not at all," said Mr. Denner, waving his hand, "not at all,--pray do +not mention it. And you will give it to one of them," he added, peering +through the dusk at the young man, "if--if it should be necessary?" + +"Yes, sir," he answered, "I will; but you did not mention which one, Mr. +Denner." + +Mr. Denner was silent; he turned his head wearily toward the faint +glimmer which showed where the window was, and Gifford heard him sigh. "I +did not mention which,--no. I had not quite decided. Perhaps you can tell +me which you think would like it best?" + +"I am sure your choice would seem of most value to them." + +Mr. Denner did not speak; he was thinking how he had hoped that leap at +the runaway horse would have decided it all. And then his mind traveled +back to the stone bench, and his talk with Gifford, and the proverb. +"Gifford," he said firmly, "give it, if you please, to Miss Deborah." + +They did not speak of it further. Gifford was already reproaching himself +for having let his patient talk too much, and Mr. Denner, his mind at +last at rest, was ready to fall asleep, the miniature clasped in his +feverish hand. + +The next day, Gifford had no good news to carry to the rectory. The +lawyer had had a bad night, and was certainly weaker, and sometimes he +seemed a little confused when he spoke. Gifford shrank from telling Lois +this, and yet he longed to see her, but she did not appear. + +She was with Mrs. Forsythe, her aunt said; and when he asked for the +invalid, Mrs. Dale shook her head. "I asked her how she felt this +morning, and she said, 'Still breathing!' But she certainly is pretty +sick, though she's one to make herself out at the point of death if she +scratches her finger. Still--I don't know. I call her a sick woman." + +Mrs. Dale could not easily resign the sense of importance which attends +the care of a very sick person, even though Arabella Forsythe's appetite +had unquestionably improved. + +"We've telegraphed again for her son," she went on, "though I must say +she does not seem to take his absence much to heart. They are the sort of +people, I think, that love each other better at a distance. Now, if I +were in her place, I'd be perfectly miserable without my children. I +don't know what to think of his not writing to her. It appears that he's +on a pleasure party of some kind, and he's not written her a line since +he started; so of course she does not know where he is." + +But to Lois Mrs. Forsythe's illness was something beside interest and +occupation. The horror of her possible death hung over the young girl, +and seemed to sap her youth and vigor. Her face was drawn and haggard, +and her pleasant gray eyes had lost their smile. Somehow Mr. Denner's +danger, which to some extent she realized, did not impress her so deeply; +perhaps because that was, in a manner, the result of his own will, and +perhaps, too, because no one quite knew how much the little gentleman +suffered and how near death he was. + +Lois had heard Gifford's voice as she went into the sick-room, and his +words of blame rung again in her ears. They emphasized Mrs. Forsythe's +despair about her son's future. She spoke to Lois as though she knew +there was no possible chance of her recovery. + +"You see, my dear," she said, in her soft, complaining voice, which +sometimes dropped to a whisper, "he has no aunts or uncles to look after +him when I am gone; no one to be good to him and help him to be good. Not +that he is wild or foolish, Lois, like some young men, but he's full of +spirit, and he needs a good home. Oh, what will he do without me. He has +no one to take care of him!" + +Lois was too crushed by misery to feel even a gleam of humor, when the +thought flashed through her mind that she might offer to take his +mother's place; but she knew enough not to express it. + +"Oh," Mrs. Forsythe continued, "if he were only married to some sweet +girl that I knew and loved how happy I should be, how content!" + +"I--I wish he were," Lois said. + +"My death will be so hard for him, and who will comfort him! I am sorry +I distress you by speaking so, but, my dear child, on your death-bed you +look facts in the face. I cannot help knowing his sorrow, and it makes me +so wretched. My boy,--my poor boy! If I could only feel easy about him! +If I thought, oh, if I could just think, you cared for him! I know I +ought not to speak of it, but--it is all I want to make me happy. I might +have had a little more of life, a few months, perhaps, if it had not been +for the accident. There, there, you mustn't be distressed; but if I could +know you cared for him, it would be worth dying for, Lois." + +"I do care for him!" Lois sobbed. "We all do!" + +Mrs. Forsythe shook her head. "You are the only one I want; if you told +me you would love him, I should be happy, so happy! Perhaps you don't +like to say it. But listen: I know all about last fall, and how you sent +the poor fellow away broken-hearted; but I couldn't stop loving you, for +all that, and I was so glad when he told me he was going to try again; +and that is what he is coming down to Ashurst for. Yes, he is coming to +ask you. You see, I know all his secrets; he tells me everything,--such +a good boy, he is. But I've told you, because I cannot die, oh, I cannot +die, unless I know how it will be for him. If you could say yes, Lois, +if you could!" + +Her voice had faltered again, and the pallor of weariness which spread +grayly over her face frightened Lois. She shivered, and wrung her hands +sharply together. + +"Oh," she said, "I would do anything in the world for you--but--but"-- + +"But this is all I want," interrupted the other eagerly. "Promise this, +and I am content to die. When he asks you--oh, my dear, my dear, promise +me to say yes!" + +Lois had hidden her face in the pillow. "It was all my fault," she was +saying to herself; "it is the only atonement I can make." + +"I will do anything you want me to," she said at last. + +Mrs. Forsythe, laid her shaking hand on the girl's bowed head. "Oh, look +at me! You give me life when you say that. Will you promise to say yes, +Lois?" + +She lifted her head, but she would not look into Mrs. Forsythe's eyes. + +"Yes," she answered, twisting her fingers nervously together. "I promise +if--if he wants me." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear!" Mrs. Forsythe said, and then, to Lois's horror, +she burst into tears. She tried to say it was joy, and Lois must not be +frightened, but the young girl fled for Mrs. Dale, and then ran up to the +garret, and locked the door. + +She went over to the western window and threw herself upon the floor, her +face hidden in her arms. + +"He made me do it," she said between her sobs; "he said it was my fault. +Well, I have made up for it now. I have atoned. I have promised." + +She was too miserable even to take the satisfaction which belongs to +youth, of observing its own wretchedness. She sobbed and cried without +consciousness of tears. At last, for very weariness and exhaustion, she +fell asleep, and was wakened by hearing Mrs. Dale rap sharply at the +door. + +"Come, Lois, come!" she cried. "What's the matter? Dick Forsythe is here. +Do have politeness enough to come down-stairs. I don't know but that his +mother is a shade better, but she has had a chance to die twice over, the +time he's been getting here!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +The news of the anxiety in Ashurst hurried Helen's visit. She might be of +use, she thought, and she had better go now than a week later. + +Perhaps, too, she felt the necessity of calm. She had been forced into a +tumult of discussion and argument, which at last she had begun to meet +with the silence of exhaustion. Elder Dean had come to see her, and she +had received him at first with patience, and given him her reasons for +not believing in hell. There had even been a moment when Helen fancied +that she might convince him of what was so clear and simple to her own +mind. But to each argument of hers he had but one reply,--"The Bible, +ma'am, the Word of God, instructs us" thus or thus,--and he returned +again and again with unwearied obstinacy to his own position. After a +while Helen's annoyance at the man got the better of her judgment, and +she wrote to him, saying she did not wish to argue with him again, and +must beg him not to come to the parsonage to see her. + +Mr. Grier, too, horrified at his wife's reports of what Mrs. Ward had +said, hastened to Lockhaven to reproach and admonish John for permitting +such heresy in his household; for Mr. Grier held with St. Paul that the +husband was head of the wife, even to the extent of regulating her +conscience. John was not at home, so he turned his attack upon the real +offender, assuring her that it was for her soul's sake that he thus dealt +with her. Helen had brought the interview to a sudden close by refusing +to hear further argument, and bowing Mr. Grier from the room, with a +certain steady look from under her level brows and a compression of the +lips which, greatly to his surprise when he thought it over, silenced +him. + +The talks with John could not, of course, be called painful, for they +were with him, but they were futile. + +When the last evening came before she was to leave home, Helen knew, with +a dull pain of helpless remorse, that it was a relief to go; she was glad +that she could not hear Elder Dean's voice for a fortnight, or even know, +she said with a pathetic little laugh to her husband, that she "was +destroying anybody's hope of hell, in the parish." + +"Yes," John answered, "it will be good for you to be away from it all for +a time. It is hard to think clearly, hurried by my impatient anxiety to +have you reach a certain conclusion. I realize that. But I know you will +try to reach it, dearest." + +Helen shook her head wearily. "No, I am afraid I cannot promise that. You +must not hope that I shall ever come to believe in eternal damnation. Of +course I believe that the consequences of sin are eternal; the effect +upon character must be eternal, and I should think that would be hell +enough, sometimes. But I shall never, never believe in it as you do." + +"Oh, Helen," her husband said, "I cannot cease to hope while I have power +to pray." + +Helen sighed. "I wish you could understand how useless it is, dearest, or +how it hurts me, this talk of hell. For people to be good for fear of +hell is like saying 'Honesty is the best policy;' it is degrading. And +it seems selfish to me, somehow, to think so much about one's own +salvation,--it is small, John. The scheme of salvation that the elders +talk so much about really resolves itself into a fear of hell and hope of +heaven, all for the individual soul, and isn't that selfish? But after +all, this question of eternal punishment is such a little thing, so on +the outside of the great puzzle. One goes in, and in: Why is sin, which +is its own punishment, in the world at all? What does it all mean, +anyhow? Where is God, and why does He let us suffer here, with no +certainty of a life hereafter? Why does He make love and death in the +same world? Oh, that is so cruel,--love and death together! Is He, at +all? Those are the things, it seems to me, one has to think about. But +why do I go all over it? We can't get away from it, can we?" + +"Those questions are the outgrowth of unbelief in justice," he said +eagerly; "if you only realized justice and mercy, the rest would be +clear." + +She came over to him, and, kneeling down, put her head on his knee. "Oh, +John, how can I leave you to-morrow?" + +It was true that they could not drop the subject. Hour after hour they +had sat thus, John instructing, proving, reasoning, with always the +tenderest love and patience in his voice. Helen listening with a sweet +graciousness, which kept her firm negations from making her husband +hopeless. He had showed her, that Sunday evening after the sermon on +foreign missions, what he felt had been his awful sin: he had deprived +his people of the bread of life for her sake, and, for fear of jarring +the perfect peace of their lives and giving her a moment's unhappiness, +he had shrunk from his duty to her soul. + +At first Helen had been incredulous. She could not realize that her mere +unbelief in any doctrine, especially such a doctrine as this of eternal +punishment, could be a matter of serious importance to her husband. It +needed an effort to treat his argument with respect. "What does it +matter?" she kept saying. "We love each other, so never mind what we +believe. Believe anything you want, darling. I don't care! Only love me, +John. And if my ideas offend your people, let us leave Lockhaven; or I +can keep silence, unless I should have to speak for what seems to me +truth's sake." + +And then John tried to show her how he had wronged his people and been +false to his own vows and that he dared not leave them until he had +rooted out the evil his own neglect had allowed to grow up among them, +and that her mere silence would not reach the root of the evil in her own +soul. And the importance of it! + +"Oh," he cried, once, when they had been talking until late into the +night, "is not your soul's life of importance, Helen? When I see you +going down to eternal death because I have failed in my duty to you, can +I satisfy myself by saying, We love one another? Because I love you, I +cannot be silent. Oh, I have wronged you, I have not loved you enough! +I have been content with the present happiness of my love,--my happiness! +I had no thought of yours." + +So they had gone over and over the subject, until to Helen it seemed +threadbare, and they sat now in the dusky library, with long stretches of +silence between their words. + +Alfaretta brought in the lamps. In view of Mrs. Ward's departure for +a fortnight, her father, still with an eye to wages, deferred giving +notice. "Besides," he thought, "Mrs. Ward may be convicted and converted +after she's been dealt with." + +Helen had risen, and was writing some instructions for her maid: just +what was to be cooked for the preacher, and what precautions taken for +his comfort. As she put her pen down, she turned to look at her husband. +He was sitting, leaning forward, with his head bowed upon his hand, and +his eyes covered. + +"Helen," he said, in a low, repressed voice, "once more, just once more, +let me entreat you; and then we will not speak of this before you go." + +She sighed. "Yes, dearest, say anything you want." + +There was a moment's silence, and then John rose, and stood looking down +at her. "I have such a horror of your going away. I do not understand it; +it is more than the grief and loneliness of being without you for a few +days. It is vague and indefinable, but it is terribly real. Perhaps it is +the feeling that atonement for my sin towards you is being placed out of +my reach. You will be where I cannot help you, or show you the truth. Yet +you will try to find it! I know you will. But now, just this last night, +I must once more implore you to open your heart to God's Spirit. Ah, my +Helen, I have sinned against Heaven and before you, but my punishment +will be greater than I can bear if I enter heaven without you! Heaven? My +God, it would be hell! The knowledge that my sin had kept you out--yet +even as I speak I sin." + +He was walking up and down the room, his hands knotted in front of him, +and his face filled with hopeless despair. + +"Yes, I sin even in this, for my grief is not that I have sinned against +God in my duty to his people and in forgetting Him, but that I may lose +you heaven, I may make you suffer!" + +Helen came to him, and tried to put her arms about him. "Oh, my dear," +she said, "don't you understand? I have heaven now, in your love. And for +the rest,--oh, John, be content to leave it in Hands not limited by our +poor ideas of justice. If there is a God, and He is good, He will not +send me away from you in eternity; if He is wicked and cruel, as this +theology makes Him, we do not want his heaven! We will go out into outer +darkness together." + +John shuddered. "Lay not this sin to her charge," she heard him say; "she +knows not what she says. Yet I--Oh, Helen, that same thought has come to +me. You seemed to make my heaven,--you; and I was tempted to choose you +and darkness, rather than my God. Sin, sin, sin,--I cannot get away from +it. Yet if I could only save you! But there again I distrust my motive: +not for God's glory, but for my own love's sake, I would save you. My +God, my God, be merciful to me a sinner!" + +In his excitement, he had pushed her arm from his shoulder, and stood in +tense and trembling silence, looking up, as though listening for an +answer to his prayer. + +Helen dared not speak. There is a great gulf fixed between the nearest +and dearest souls when in any spiritual anguish; even love cannot pass +it, and no human tenderness can fathom it. Helen could not enter into +this holiest of holies, where her husband's soul was prostrate before its +Maker. In the solitude of grief and remorse he was alone. + +It was this isolation from him which broke her calm. It seemed profane +even to look upon his suffering. She shrank away from him, and hid her +face in her hands. That roused him, and in a moment the old tenderness +enveloped her. + +He comforted her with silent love, until she ceased to tremble, and +looked again into his tender eyes. + +"What I wanted to say," he said, after a while, when she was leaning +quietly against his breast, "was just to tell you once more the reasons +for believing in this doctrine which so distresses you, dearest. To say, +in a word, if I could, why I lay such stress upon it, instead of some of +the other doctrines of the church. It is because I do believe that +salvation, eternal life, Helen, depends upon holding the doctrine of +reprobation in its truth and entirety. For see, beloved: deny the +eternity of punishment, and the scheme of salvation is futile. Christ +need not have died, a man need not repent, and the whole motive of the +gospel is false; revelation is denied, and we are without God and without +hope. Grant the eternity of punishment, and the beauty and order of the +moral universe burst upon us: man is a sinner, and deserves death, and +justice is satisfied; for, though mercy is offered, it is because Christ +has died. And his atonement is not cheapened by being forced upon men who +do not want it. They must accept it, or be punished." + +Helen looked up into his face with a sad wonder. "Don't you see, dear," +she said, "we cannot reason about it? You take all this from the Bible, +because you believe it is inspired. I do not believe it is. So how can we +argue? If I granted your premises, all that you say would be perfectly +logical. But I do not, John. I cannot. I am so grieved for you, dearest, +because I know how this distresses you; but I must say it. Silence can +never take the place of truth, between us." + +"Oh, it did, too long, too long!" John groaned. "Is there no hope?" and +then he began his restless walk again, Helen watching him with yearning +eyes. + +"I cannot give it up," he said at last. "There must be some way by which +the truth can be made clear to you. Perhaps the Lord will show it to me. +There is no pain too great for me to bear, to find it out; no, even the +anguish of remorse, if it brings you to God! Oh, you shall be saved! Do +the promises of the Eternal fail?" + +He came over to her, and took her hands in his. Their eyes met. This +sacrament of souls was too solemn for words or kisses. When they spoke +again it was of commonplace things. + +It was hard for her to leave the little low-browed house, the next +morning. John stopped to gather a bunch of prairie roses from the bush +which they had trained beneath the study window, and Helen fastened them +in her dress; then, just as they were ready to start, the preacher's wife +ran back to the study, and hurriedly put one of the roses from her bosom +into a vase on the writing-table, and stooped and gave a quick, furtive +kiss to the chair in which John always sat when at work on a sermon. + +They neither of them spoke as they walked to the station, and no one +spoke to them. Helen knew there were shy looks from curtained windows and +peeping from behind doors, for she was a moral curiosity in Lockhaven; +but no one interrupted them. Just before she started, John took her hand, +and held it in a nervous grasp. "Helen," he said hoarsely, "for the sake +of my eternal happiness seek for truth, seek for truth!" + +She only looked at him, with speechless love struggling through the pain +in her eyes. + +The long, slow journey to Ashurst passed like a troubled dream. It was an +effort to adjust her mind to the different life to which she was going. +Late in the afternoon, the train drew up to the depot in Mercer, and +Helen tried to push aside her absorbing thought of John's suffering, that +she might greet her uncle naturally and gladly. The rector stood on the +platform, his stick in one hand and his glasses in the other, and his +ruddy face beaming with pleasure. When he saw her, he opened his arms and +hugged her; it would have seemed to Dr. Howe that he was wanting in +affection had he reserved his demonstrations until they were alone. + +"Bless my soul," he cried, "it is good to see you again, my darling +child. We're all in such distress in Ashurst, you'll do us good. Your +husband couldn't come with you? Sorry for that; we want to see him +oftener. I suppose he was too busy with parish work,--that fire has kept +his hands full. What? There is the carriage,--Graham, here's Miss Helen +back again. Get in, my dear, get in. Now give your old uncle a kiss, and +then we can talk as much as we want." + +Helen kissed him with all her heart; a tremulous sort of happiness stole +over the background of her troubled thoughts, as a gleam of light from a +stormy sunset may flutter upon the darkness of the clouds. + +"Tell me--everything! How is Lois? How are the sick people? How is +Ashurst?" + +Dr. Howe took up a great deal of room, sitting well forward upon the +seat, with his hands clasped on his big stick, which was planted between +his knees, and he had to turn his head to see Helen when he answered her. + +"Mrs. Forsythe is better," he said; "she is certainly going to pull +through, though for the first week all that we heard was that she was +'still breathing.' But Denner is in a bad way; Denner is a very sick +man. Gifford has been with him almost all the time. I don't know what +we should have done without the boy. Lois is all right,--dreadfully +distressed, of course, about the accident; saying it is her fault, +and all that sort of thing. But she wasn't to blame; some fool left +a newspaper to blow along the road and frighten the horse. She needs +you to cheer her up." + +"Poor little Mr. Denner!" Helen exclaimed. "I'm glad Giff is with him. +Has Mr. Forsythe come?" + +"Yes," said the rector; "but they are queer people, those Forsythes. The +young man seems quite annoyed at having been summoned: he remarked to +your aunt that there was nothing the matter with his mother, and she must +be moved to her own house; there was nothing so bad for her as to have a +lot of old women fussing over her. I wish you could have seen Adele's +face! I don't think she admires him as much as she did. But his mother +was moved day before yesterday, and he has a trained nurse for her. Your +aunt Adele feels her occupation gone, and thinks Mrs. Forsythe will die +without her," the rector chuckled. "But she won't,--she'll get well." +Here he gave a heavy sigh, and said, "Poor Denner!" + +"You don't mean Mr. Denner won't get well?" Helen asked anxiously. + +"I'm afraid not," Dr. Howe answered sadly. + +They were silent for a little while, and then Helen said in a hushed +voice, "Does he know it, uncle Archie?" + +"No," said the rector explosively, "he--he doesn't!" + +Dr. Howe was evidently disturbed; he pulled up one of the carriage +windows with some violence, and a few minutes afterwards lowered it with +equal force. "No, he doesn't," he repeated. "The doctor only told me this +morning that there was no hope. Says it is a question of days. He's very +quiet; does not seem to suffer; just lies there, and is polite to people. +He was dreadfully troubled at breaking up the whist party last Saturday; +sent apologies to the other three by Gifford." Dr. Howe tugged at his +gray mustache, and looked absently out of the window. "No, I don't +believe he has an idea that he--he won't get well." The rector had a +strange shrinking from the word "death." + +"I suppose he ought to know," Helen said thoughtfully. + +"That is what the doctor said," answered the rector; "told me he might +want to settle his affairs. But bless my soul, what affairs can Denner +have? He made his will fifteen years ago, and left all he had to Sarah +Denner's boy. I don't see what he has to do." + +"But, uncle," Helen said, "mightn't he have some friends or relatives to +whom he would want to send a message,--or perhaps see? People you never +heard of?" + +"Oh, no, no," responded Dr. Howe. "I've known William Denner, man and +boy, these sixty years. He hasn't any friends I don't know about; he +could not conceal anything, you know; he is as simple and straightforward +as a child. No; Willie Denner'll have his money,--there's not too much of +it,--and that's all there is to consider." + +"But it is not only money," Helen went on slowly: "hasn't he a right to +know of eternity? Not just go out into it blindly?" + +"Perhaps so,--perhaps so," the rector admitted, hiding his evident +emotion with a flourish of his big white silk handkerchief. "You see," he +continued, steadying his cane between his knees, while he took off his +glasses and began to polish them, "the doctor wants me to tell him, +Helen." + +"I suppose so," she said sympathetically. + +"And I suppose I must," the rector went on, "but it is the hardest task +he could set me. I--I don't know how to approach it." + +"It must be very hard." + +"Of course it seems natural to the doctor that I should be the one to +tell him. I'm his pastor, and he's a member of my church--Stay! is he?" +Dr. Howe thrust out his lower lip and wrinkled his forehead, as he +thought. "Yes, oh yes, I remember. We were confirmed at the same time, +when we were boys,--old Bishop White's last confirmation. But he hasn't +been at communion since my day." + +"Why do you think that is, uncle Archie?" Helen asked. + +"Why, my dear child, how do I know?" cried the rector. "Had his own +reasons, I suppose. I never asked him. And you see, Helen, that's what +makes it so hard to go and tell Denner that--that he's got to die. +Somehow, we never touched on the serious side of life. I think that's +apt to be the case with friends in our position. We have gone fishing +together since we were out of pinafores, and we have played whist,--at +least I've watched him,--and talked politics or church business over +our pipes; but never anything like this. We were simply the best of +friends. Ah, well, Denner will leave a great vacancy in my life." + +They rode in silence for some time, and then Helen said gently, "Yes, but +uncle, dear, that is the only way you are going to help him now,--with +the old friendship. It is too late for anything else,--any religious aid, +I mean,--when a man comes to look death in the face. The getting ready +for death has gone, and it is death itself, then. And I should think it +would be only the friend's hand and the friend's eyes, just the human +sympathy, which would make it easier. I suppose all one can do is to say, +'Let my friendship go with you through it all,--all this unknown to us +both.'" + +Dr. Howe turned and looked at her sharply; the twilight had fallen, and +the carriage was very dark. "That's a heathenish thing to say, Helen, and +it is not so. The consolations of religion belong to a man in death as +much as in life; they ought not to belong more to death than to life, but +they do, sometimes. It isn't that there is not much to say to Denner. It +is the--the unusualness of it, if I can so express it. We have never +touched on such things, I tell you, old friends as we are; and it is +awkward, you understand." + +They were very quiet for the rest of the long drive. They stopped a +moment at Mr. Denner's gate; the house was dark, except for a dim light +in the library and another in the kitchen, where Mary sat poring over her +usual volume. Gifford came out to say there was no change, and opened the +carriage door to shake hands with Helen. + +"He would have prayers to-night," he said to the rector, still talking in +a hushed voice, as though the spell of the sick-room were on him out +under the stars, in the shadows of the poplar-trees. "He made Willie read +them aloud to Mary, he told me; he said it was proper to observe such +forms in a family, no matter what the conditions might be. Imagine Willie +stumbling through Chronicles, and Mary fast asleep at her end of that big +dark dining-room!" + +Gifford smiled, but the rector was too much distressed to be amused; he +shivered as they drove away. + +"Ah," he said sharply, "how I hate that slam of a carriage door! Makes me +think of but one thing. Yes, I must see him to-morrow. I must tell him +to-morrow." + +The rector settled back in his corner, his face darkening with a grieved +and troubled frown, and they did not speak until they reached the rectory +gate. As it swung heavily back against the group of white lilacs behind +it, shaking out their soft, penetrating fragrance into the night air, +some one sprang towards the carriage, and almost before it stopped stood +on the steps, and rapped with impatient joy at the window. + +It was Lois. She had thrown a filmy white scarf about her head, and had +come out to walk up and down the driveway, and listen for the sound of +wheels. She had not wanted to stay in the house, lest Mr. Forsythe might +appear. + +Lois had scarcely seen him since he arrived, though this was not because +of his devotion to his mother. He spent most of his time lounging about +the post-office, and swearing that Ashurst was the dullest, deadest place +on the face of the earth. He had not listened to Lois's self-reproaches, +and insisted that blame must not even be mentioned. He was quite in +earnest, but strangely awkward. Lois, weighed down by the consciousness +of her promise, felt it was her fault, yet dared not try to put him at +his ease, and fled, at the sound of his step, to her refuge in the +garret. She did not feel that her promise to Mrs. Forsythe meant that she +must give opportunity as well as consent. But Dick did not force his +presence upon her, and he was very uncomfortable and _distrait_ when at +the rectory. + +She need not have feared his coming again that evening. He was in the +library of his mother's house, covering many pages of heavy crested +note-paper with his big, boyish writing. Strangely enough, however, for +a young gentleman in love with Miss Lois Howe, he was addressing in terms +of ardent admiration some one called "Lizzie." + +But in the gladness of meeting Helen, Lois almost forgot him. Her arms +around her cousin's neck, and Helen's lips pressed against her wet cheek, +there was nothing left to wish for, except the recovery of the two sick +people. + +"Oh, Helen! Helen! Helen!" she cried hysterically, while Dr. Howe, +flourishing his silk handkerchief, patted them both without +discrimination, and said, "There, my dear, there, there." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +After Helen had gone, John Ward went back to the parsonage, dazed and +stupefied by the exhaustion of the moral conflict which for nearly a +month had strained every fibre of his soul. + +The house seemed dark and empty. His face brightened a moment, as he sat +wearily down at his writing-table and saw the prairie rose in the slender +vase. He leaned his head on his hand, and drew the flower towards him, +touching it with gentle fingers, as though he caressed the bloom of +Helen's cheek. Then he pushed it in front of her picture which stood +always on the same table, and thought vaguely that he would leave it +there until she put a fresh one in its place. + +And so his thoughts came heavily back to the old grief and anxiety. He +went over all the arguments he had used, and saw new points and reasons +which he had neglected to give, and he even drew his pen and paper +towards him, and began to make some notes. He would send them to her; +and, away from him, surely what he should say would have an added force. + +Yet he could not fix his mind upon his subject. He found himself heavily +conscious of the silence of the house; and by and by he rose and went +up-stairs to their bedroom, standing drearily in the centre of the floor, +and looking about at his own loneliness. He lifted a bit of lace upon her +dressing-table, and smoothed it between his fingers, noting the faint +scent of orris which it held. Again that strange, unreasonable fear of +her absence seized him, and he was glad to go out and find some pressing +occupation to forget it. + +When he started (as he had had to do of late), alone, for prayer-meeting, +his mind was dulled by its own pain of anxiety, and he went absently +through the services, saying little, and "opening" the meeting as soon as +he could. After that, he sat with head bent and arms folded, scarcely +hearing what was said. + +Just before he pronounced the benediction, however, Elder Dean rose, and, +stepping with elaborate quiet to the pulpit, handed him a note, and sat +down again, covering his face with a big horny hand, and swinging one +foot nervously. John opened the folded paper, and held it up to one of +the tall lamps beside his desk, for the writing was dim and crabbed, and +the light poor, and then read a call that the Session should meet +immediately after the prayer-meeting. No object for consideration was +named, and the paper was signed by Mr. Dean and another elder. John put +it down, and, noticing that his four elders sat together on one of the +bare settees, omitted the usual request that they should all remain. + +The little congregation gradually dispersed. Then Elder Dean arose, and, +creaking heavily down the aisle, closed and locked the front door, and +put out four of the lamps in the back of the room for economy's sake. +After that he sat down again on the settee beside the three other elders, +and the lecture-room was silent. + +John looked up, and waited for some one to speak, then, suddenly +recalling his duty of moderator, he called the Session to order, and +asked the reason for meeting. + +Mr. Johnson, who was the youngest elder in the church, shuffled his feet +under the bench, coughed slightly, and looked at his colleagues. Mr. Bent +and Mr. Smith kept their eyes upon the ground, and Mr. Dean folded and +unfolded his arms several times. + +"Brethren," said the preacher, "we have asked the blessing of God upon +the deliberations of this Session; it now remains to bring the business +before it." + +Mr. Dean poked Mr. Smith furtively, who replied in a loud whisper, "It is +your place, Brother Dean." + +The elder's face turned a dull mottled red; he felt John's surprised +eyes upon him. Under cover of blowing his nose violently, he rose, and, +shifting from one foot to the other, he glanced imploringly at his +companions. But no one spoke. + +"Brother Ward," he began at last, opening and shutting his mouth until +his upper lip looked like a hooked beak, "this Session has been called +for the consideration of--of the spiritual condition of this church. The +duties of the elders of a church are heavy, and painful--and--and--large. +But they are discharged,--they are always," said Mr. Dean, inflating his +chest, and raising one hand, "discharged! The church expects it, and the +church is not disappointed. Yet it is most terribly painful, +sometimes--most awful, and--unpleasant." + +Here Mr. Dean stopped, and coughed behind his hand. Mr. Johnson crossed +his legs, and glanced back at the door as though calculating his chances +of escape. The other two men did not look up. Elder Dean had no reason to +fear that he had not the attention of the moderator. John was watching +him with burning eyes. + +"Proceed," he said. + +"Well," he continued, "as we always perform our painful, most painful +duties, we are here to-night. We are here to-night, Mr. Moderator, to +consider the spiritual welfare of the church, and of one especial soul +connected with the church. This soul is--is far from grace; it is in a +lost condition; a stranger to God, an alien from the commonwealth of +Israel. But that is not all. No. It is--ah--spreading its own disease of +sin in the vitals of the church. It is not only going down to hell +itself, but it is dragging others along with it. It is to consider the +welfare of that soul, Brother Ward, that this Session has been convened. +It is a very difficult task which is set before us, but we are sustained +by duty,--by duty, sir! We will not have to reproach ourselves for +neglect of an immortal soul. We wish to summon"-- + +"Do you refer," said John Ward, rising, his hands clenched upon the +pulpit rail, his face rigid and his teeth set,--"do you refer to my +wife?" + +The three men on the bench started as though they had received a galvanic +shock. Elder Dean, with his lips parted, looked at his minister in +silence. + +"Answer me," said John Ward. + +"Mr. Moderator," replied the elder in a quavering voice, "if I do refer +to your wife, that is not the way it is to be considered. I refer to a +sin-sick soul. I refer to a--a cause of falling from grace, in this +church. I refer to a poor neglected sinner, who must be saved; yes, sir, +saved. If she happens to be your wife, I--I--am sorry." + +The room was very silent. The flaring lamps shone on the bare, +whitewashed walls and on the shamed faces of the four men; the shadows +in the corners pressed upon the small centre of light. One of the lamps +smoked, and Mr. Bent rose to turn it down, and a deeper gloom settled +upon the group. Mr. Johnson nervously opened a hymn-book, and began to +turn the pages. For a moment the rustle of the paper was the only sound +that broke the quiet. + +John Ward, appalled and angry, humiliated that his most sacred grief was +dragged from his heart to be gazed at and discussed by these men, was yet +silenced by his accusing conscience. + +"There is no need," he said at last, with painful slowness, and breathing +hard, "to bring this matter before the Session. As preacher of this +church, I prefer to deal with that soul according to the wisdom God gives +me. I neither ask nor desire your advice." + +Elder Dean turned to his companions, and raised his hands slightly. Mr. +Smith responded to his look by rising and saying, still gazing fixedly +upon the floor, "This ain't the way, Brother Ward, to consider this +matter. Your wisdom ain't enough, seein' that it has allowed things to +get to this pass. All we desire is to deal with Mrs. Ward for her own +good. Brother Dean speaks of the evil in the church,--ain't it our duty +to check that? It appears, sir, that, preacher of this church or not, +you've allowed her sin of unbelief to remain unreproved, and the +consequence is its spread in the church: that's what we're responsible +for; that's our duty. If you've neglected your duty, we ain't a-goin' to +neglect ours." He wagged his head emphatically, and then sat down. + +John Ward was too entirely without self-consciousness to feel the change +in the tone of these men. Their old sincerely felt admiration and awe of +their preacher was gone. The moment they became his critics, they ceased +to feel his superiority. Disapproval was power, and their freedom from +the trammels of respect made them cruel. But the outcry of John's +conscience made him deaf to smaller things. He sat bending forward, his +hands locked together, and the vein in his forehead standing out like +whip-cord; his lips were white and compressed. + +Mr. Dean got on his feet again, with much less embarrassment in his +manner. Mr. Smith's share in the responsibility was a great relief. + +"It is exactly as Brother Smith says," he said. "If it was just--just +her, we wouldn't, perhaps, meddle, though I ain't sure but what it would +be our duty. But the church,--we have got to protect it. We would wish to +summon her, and see if we can bring her to a realizing sense of her +condition before proceeding to any extreme measure. If she remained in a +hardened state, it would then be our duty to bring charges and proof. And +we should do it, bein' supported by a sense of duty--and by the grace of +God." + +Here Mr. Johnson rose, rather noisily, and Mr. Dean looked at him +impatiently. + +"He'll spoil it all," he muttered, as he sat down between Mr. Smith and +Mr. Bent. + +"I just want to say," said Mr. Johnson, in a quick, high voice, "that I'm +not in sympathy with this meeting." + +John looked at him eagerly. + +"It is my idea that these sort of things never do. The day has passed for +forcing people into believing things,--yes, sir,--and it doesn't do any +good, anyhow. Now, my advice would be, don't disturb things, don't break +up the peace. I'm for peace and quiet and a happy life, before anything +else. Just let's not say anything about it. There's nothing, brethren, +like argument for disturbing a church or a home. I know it; I'm a married +man. And I just advise you to keep quiet. Use your influence in a quiet, +easy way, but nothing else. May be it will come out all right, after +all." + +He sat down again, and Mr. Dean and Mr. Smith began to whisper to him +with evident indignation. + +But the preacher's face was full of doubt and grief. "No," he said at +last, moving his dry lips with a visible effort, "we cannot conquer sin +by hiding it or forgetting it, and I believe that this Session has the +welfare of the church sincerely at heart; but I do not believe the plan +you propose will profit either the church or the soul of whom you speak. +Her absence at present would, at all events, make it necessary to defer +any action. In the mean time, I believe that the Lord will teach me +wisdom, and will grant grace and peace to her whose welfare is the +subject of your prayers. If I reach any conclusion in the matter which +you ought to know, I will communicate with you. If there is no further +motion, this meeting is adjourned." + +The elders rose, and with the exception of Mr. Johnson, retreated in +embarrassed haste. They ducked their heads, and made a guttural noise in +their throats, as though to say good-night; but they were ashamed to +speak to him, though Mr. Bent said as he turned his back on the preacher, +"We'll--ah--pray for her." + +Mr. Johnson stopped to justify his presence, and say again, "Don't notice +it, Mr. Ward. I'd just gently like bring her round some time; keep on +prayin', an' all that, but don't force it. It will only make trouble for +you." + +John hurried away from him, stung to the quick. This, then, was his own +real attitude; this was what his plea of wisdom had meant this last year. +His own deceit loomed up before his soul, and the sky of faith grew +black. One by one, the accusations of the elders repeated themselves to +him, and he made no protest. His assenting conscience left him absolutely +defenseless. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +There was a strange unreality about Helen's wakening, the first morning +in Ashurst. + +The year in Lockhaven seemed to have made as little change as a dream. +Here she was, back in her old room. How familiar everything looked! Her +little white bed; the old cherry-wood dressing-case, with its shining +brass rings and spotless linen cover; the morning sunshine dancing with +the shadows of the leaves, and falling in a golden square upon the floor; +the curtains at the south window blowing softly to and fro in the fresh +wind, and the flutter of wings outside in the climbing roses; even the +bunch of white lilacs on the little table, apparently all just as she had +left them nearly a year ago. Lockhaven and theology were behind her, and +yet in some indefinable way she was a stranger in a strange land. + +The consciousness of a difference had come the night before, when Lois +poured out her fears and griefs to her cousin (all except her promise to +Mrs. Forsythe) as soon as they were alone. + +Lois felt no difference. Helen had been away for a long time, but she was +still the same Helen to her; strong, and true, and gentle, with perhaps a +little more gravity in her eyes, but Lois was so grave herself she did +not notice that. Whereas with Helen there was a dual life: the one, +absorbing, passionate, and intense; the other, a memory; a tender, +beautiful past, no longer a necessity. + +Helen's joys had come between her and this once dear home life, and even +while Lois was telling her of her cruel anxiety, and Helen was listening +with a face full of sympathy, her thoughts were following John on his +lonely walk back from prayer-meeting, and greeting him in the doorway of +the empty house. + +Of course the consciousness of the difference and the strangeness wore +off in a few days; perhaps if Ashurst had been its usual quiet self, it +would have lasted longer, but there was so much to do, and so little +appreciation of change in the mind of any one else, she almost forgot +to notice it herself, but only knew that all the time, under all her +sympathy with Ashurst joys and sorrows,--mostly sorrows, now,--was a +deep, still current of thought flowing towards her husband. + +Mrs. Dale had been the first one to come in, in the morning. They had +scarcely finished breakfast when they heard her decided voice in the +hall, reproving Sally for some careless sweeping. A little while ago, +Lois would have resented this as interference; but she had too many real +troubles now to take Mrs. Dale's meddling to heart. + +"Well, Helen, my dear," she said, "I'm glad to see you." Mrs. Dale turned +her cheek to her niece, under the impression that she was kissing her. +"It is high time for you to be home again. You must keep this foolish +child in order; she hardly eats or sleeps. I suppose you've sent to know +how Arabella Forsythe is to-day, Lois?" + +Lois looked anxious. "I thought she really was better last night, but she +sent word this morning there was no change." + +"Fudge!" cried Mrs. Dale. "I brought her round all right before that +nurse came. She can't have killed her in this time. The fact is, brother, +Arabella Forsythe isn't in any hurry to get well; she likes the +excitement of frightening us all to death. I declare, Helen, she made her +death-bed adieux six times over! I must say, nothing does show a person's +position in this world so well as his manner of leaving it. You won't +find poor William Denner making a fuss. He isn't Admiral Denner's +great-grandson for nothing. Yes, Arabella Forsythe has talked about her +soul, and made arrangements for her funeral, every day for a week. That's +where her father's money made in buttons crops out!" + +"But aunt Deely," Helen said, "isn't there any hope for Mr. Denner? +Ashurst wouldn't be Ashurst without Mr. Denner!" + +"No, not a bit," Mrs. Dale answered promptly. "I suppose you'll go and +see him this morning, brother, and tell him?" + +"Yes," replied Dr. Howe, sighing, "I suppose I must, but it does seem +unnecessary to disturb him." + +"He won't be disturbed," said Mrs. Dale stoutly; "he isn't that kind. +There, now," she added, as Dr. Howe took up his hat and stick and went +gloomily out into the sunshine, "I shouldn't wonder if your father left +it to Gifford to break it to him, after all. It is curious how Archibald +shrinks from it, and he a clergyman! I could do it, easily. Now, Lois, +you run along; I want to talk to Helen." + +But the rector had more strength of purpose than his sister thought. His +keen eyes blurred once or twice in his walk to the village, and his lip +almost trembled, but when he reached Mr. Denner's bedside he had a firm +hand to give his friend. The doctor had left a note for him, saying the +end was near, and he read this before he went into the sick-room. + +Mr. Denner had failed very perceptibly since the day before. He looked +strangely little in the great bed, and his brown eyes had grown large and +bright. But he greeted the rector with courteous cordiality, under which +his faint voice faltered, and almost broke. + +"How are you to-day, Denner?" his friend said, sitting down on the edge +of the bed, and taking the sick man's hand in his big warm grasp. + +"Thank you," replied Mr. Denner, with labored breath, "I am doing +nicely." + +"Has Giff been here this morning?" asked Dr. Howe. + +"Yes," the lawyer answered. "He has gone home for an hour. Mary takes +excellent care of me, and I felt I was really keeping him too much from +his aunts. For his stay is limited, you know, and I am afraid I have been +selfish in keeping him so much with me." + +"No, no," the rector said, "it is a pleasure for him to be with you; it +is a pleasure for any of us. Poor little Lois is dreadfully distressed +about you,--she longs to come and nurse you herself; and Helen,--Helen +came last night, you know,--she wants to be of some use, too." + +"Oh, well, now, dear me," remonstrated Mr. Denner feebly, "Miss Lois must +not have a moment's uneasiness about me,--not a moment's. Pray tell her I +am doing nicely; and it is really of no consequence in the world,--not +the slightest." + +Then Mr. Denner began to speak of Gifford's kindness, and how good every +one in the village had been to him; even Mary had softened wonderfully in +the last few days, though of this the sick man did not speak, for it +would seem to imply that Mary had not always been all she might be, and, +in view of her present kindness, it would have been ungracious to draw +attention to that. + +"Yes," Mr. Denner ended, folding his little hands on the counterpane, "it +is worth while to have had this indisposition (except for the trouble it +has given others) just to see how good every one is. Gifford has been +exceedingly kind and thoughtful. His gentleness--for I have been very +troublesome, doctor--has been wonderful. Like a woman's; at least so I +should imagine." + +The rector had clasped his hands upon his stick, and was looking intently +at Mr. Denner, his lower lip thrust out and his eyebrows gathered in an +absent frown. + +"William," he said suddenly, "you've seen the doctor this morning?" + +"Yes," Mr. Denner answered, "oh, yes. He is very kind about getting here +early; the nights seem quite long, and it is a relief to see him early." + +"I have not seen him to-day," said Dr. Howe slowly, "but yesterday he +made me feel very anxious about you. Yes, we were all quite anxious, +William." + +The lawyer gave a little start, and looked sharply at his old friend; +then he said, hesitating slightly, "That--ah--that was yesterday, did I +understand you to say?" + +Dr. Howe leaned forward and took one of Mr. Denner's trembling little +hands in his, which was strong and firm. "Yes," he said gently, "but, +William, my dear old friend, I am anxious still. I cannot help--I cannot +help fearing that--that"-- + +"Stay," interrupted Mr. Denner, with a visible effort at composure, +"I--I quite understand. Pray spare yourself the pain of speaking of it, +Archibald. You are very kind, but--I quite understand." + +He put his hand before his eyes a moment, and then blindly stretched it +out to his friend. The rector took it, and held it hard in his own. The +two men were silent. Mr. Denner was the first to speak. + +"It is very good in you to come and tell me, Archibald. I fear it has +discomposed you; it was very painful for you. Pray do not allow yourself +to feel the slightest annoyance; it is of no consequence, I--ah--assure +you. But since we are on the subject, perhaps you will kindly +mention--how--how soon?" + +"I hope, I trust," answered the rector huskily, "it may not be for +several days." + +"But probably," said Mr. Denner calmly, "probably--sooner?" + +Dr. Howe bowed his head. + +"Ah--just so--just so. I--I thank you, Archibald." + +Suddenly the rector drew a long breath, and straightened himself, as +though he had forgotten something. "It must come to us all, sooner or +later," he said gently, "and if we have lived well we need not dread it. +Surely you need not, of all the men I have ever known." + +"I have always endeavored," said Mr. Denner, in a voice which still +trembled a little, "to remember that I was a gentleman." + +Dr. Howe opened his lips and shut them again before he spoke. "I--I meant +that the trust in God, William, of a Christian man, which is yours, must +be your certain support now." + +The lawyer looked up, with a faint surprise dawning in his eyes. "Ah--you +are very good to say so, I'm sure," he replied courteously. + +Dr. Howe moved his hands nervously, clasping and re-clasping them upon +the head of his stick. "Yes, William," he said, after a moment's silence, +"that trust in God which leads us safely through all the dark places in +life will not fail us at the end. The rod and the staff still comfort +us." + +"Ah--yes," responded Mr. Denner. + +The rector gained confidence as he spoke. "And you must have that blessed +assurance of the love of God, William," he continued; "your life has been +so pure and good. You must see in this visitation not chastisement, but +mercy." + +Dr. Howe's hand moved slowly back to the big pocket in one of his black +coat-tails, and brought out a small, shabby prayer-book. + +"You will let me read the prayers for the sick," he continued gently, and +without waiting for a reply began to say with more feeling than Dr. Howe +often put into the reading of the service,-- + +"'Dearly beloved, know this, that Almighty God is the Lord of life and +death, and of all things to them pertaining; as'"-- + +"Archibald," said Mr. Denner faintly, "you will excuse me, but this is +not--not necessary, as it were." + +Dr. Howe looked at him blankly, the prayer-book closing in his hand. + +"I mean," Mr. Denner added, "if you will allow me to say so, the time +for--for speaking thus has passed. It is now, with me, Archibald." + +There was a wistful look in his eyes as he spoke. + +"I know," answered Dr. Howe tenderly, thinking that the Visitation of the +Sick must wait, "but God enters into now; the Eternal is our refuge, a +very present help in time of trouble." + +"Ah--yes"--said the sick man; "but I should like to approach this from +our usual--point of view, if you will be so good. I have every respect +for your office, but would it not be easier for us to speak of--of this +as we have been in the habit of speaking on all subjects, quite--in our +ordinary way, as it were? You will pardon me, Archibald, if I say +anything else seems--ah--unreal?" + +Dr. Howe rose and walked to the window. He stood there a few minutes, but +the golden June day was dim, and there was a tightening in his throat +that kept him silent. When he came back to the bedside, he stood, looking +down at the sick man, without speaking. Mr. Denner was embarrassed. + +"I did not mean to pain you," he said. + +"William," the rector answered, "have I made religion so worthless? Have +I held it so weakly that you feel that it cannot help you now?" + +"Oh, not at all," responded Mr. Denner, "not at all. I have the greatest +respect for it,--I fear I expressed myself awkwardly,--the greatest +respect; I fully appreciate its value, I might say its necessity, in the +community. But--but if you please, Archibald, since you have kindly come +to tell me of this--change, I should like to speak of it in our ordinary +way; to approach the subject as men of the world. It is in this manner, +if you will be so good, I should like to ask you a question. I think we +quite understand each other; it is unnecessary to be anything +but--natural." + +The clergyman took his place on the side of the bed, but he leaned his +head on his hand, and his eyes were hidden. "Ask me anything you will. +Yet, though I may not have lived it, William, I cannot answer you as +anything but a Christian man now." + +"Just so," said Mr. Denner politely--"ah--certainly; but, between +ourselves, doctor, putting aside this amiable and pleasing view of +the church, you understand,--speaking just as we are in the habit of +doing,--what do you suppose--what do you think--is beyond?" + +His voice had sunk to a whisper, and his eager eyes searched Dr. Howe's +face. + +"How can we tell?" answered the rector. "That it is infinitely good we +can trust; 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard'"--He stopped, for Mr. +Denner shook his head with a fine sort of impatience. + +"If you please, doctor!" + +The rector was silent. + +"I have wondered about it often," the other continued. "I have +expected--this, for some days, and I have wondered. Think how strange: in +a few days--almost a few hours, I shall know all, or--nothing! Yes, the +mystery of all the ages will be mine!" There was a thrill of triumph in +his feeble voice. "Think of that, doctor. I shall know more than the +wisest man that lives,--I! I was never a very clever person, never very +wise; and yet, here is a knowledge which shall not be too wonderful for +me, and to which I can attain." + +He held up his little thin hand, peering at the light between the +transparent fingers. "To think," he said slowly, with a puzzled smile, +"to think that this is going to be still! It has never been any power in +the world; I don't know that it has ever done any harm, yet it has +certainly never done any good; but soon it will be still. How strange, +how strange! And where shall I be? Knowing--or perhaps fallen on an +eternal sleep. How does it seem to you, doctor? That was what I wanted to +ask you; do you feel sure of anything--afterwards?" + +The rector could not escape the penetrating gaze of those strangely +bright brown eyes. He looked into them, and then wavered and turned away. + +"Do you?" said the lawyer. + +The other put his hands up to his face a moment. + +"Ah!" he answered sharply, "I don't know--I can't tell. I--I don't know, +Denner!" + +"No," replied Mr. Denner, with tranquil satisfaction, "I supposed not,--I +supposed not. But when a man gets where I am, it seems the one thing in +the world worth being sure of." + +Dr. Howe sat silently holding the lawyer's hand, and Mr. Denner seemed to +sink into pleasant thought. Once he smiled, with that puzzled, happy look +the rector had seen before, and then he closed his eyes contentedly as +though to doze. Suddenly he turned his head and looked out of the window, +across his garden, where a few old-fashioned flowers were blooming +sparsely, with much space between them for the rich, soft grass, which +seemed to hold the swinging shadows of an elm-tree in a lacy tangle. + +"'The warm precincts of the cheerful day,'" he murmured, and then his +eyes wandered about the room: the empty, blackened fireplace, where, on +a charred log and a heap of gray ashes, a single bar of sunshine had +fallen; his fiddle, lying on a heap of manuscript music; the one or two +formal portraits of the women of his family; and the large painting of +Admiral Denner in red coat and gold lace. On each one he lingered with a +loving, wondering gaze. "'The place thereof shall know it'"--he began +to say. "Ah, doctor, it is a wonderful book! How it does know the heart! +The soul sees itself there. 'As for man, his days are as grass; as a +flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and +it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more'--no more. That +is the wonder of it! How strange it is; and I had such plans for life, +now! Well, it is better thus, no doubt,--no doubt." + +After a while he touched the little oval velvet case which lay on the +table beside him, and, taking it up, looked long and earnestly at the +childish face inside the rim of blackened pearls. + +"I wonder"--he said, and then stopped, laying it down again, with a +little sigh. "Ah, well, I shall know. It is only to wait." + +He did not seem to want any answer; it was enough to ramble on, filled +with placid content, between dreams and waking, his hand held firm in +that of his old friend. Afterwards, when Gifford came in, he scarcely +noticed that the rector slipped away. It was enough to fill his mist of +dreams with gentle wonderings and a quiet expectation. Once he said +softly, "'In the hour of death, and in the day of judgment'"-- + +"'Good Lord, deliver us!'" Gifford finished gently. + +Mr. Denner opened his eyes and looked at him. "Good Lord," he said, +"ah--yes--yes--that is enough, my friend. _Good_ Lord; one leaves the +rest." + +Dr. Howe walked home with a strange look on his face. He answered his +daughter briefly, that Mr. Denner was failing, and then, going into his +library, he moved a table from in front of the door, which always stood +hospitably open, and shut and locked it. + +"What's the matter with the doctor?" asked Dick Forsythe, lounging up to +the rectory porch, his hands in his pockets and his hat on the back of +his head. "I walked behind him all the way from the village; he looked, +as though some awful thing had happened, and he walked as if he was +possessed." + +"Oh, Mr. Denner's worse," Lois answered tearfully. + +Mr. Forsythe had found her on the porch, and, in spite of her grief, she +looked nervously about for some one to save her from a _tete-a-tete_. + +Dick seemed as anxious as she. "No, I won't sit down, thank you. Mother +just wanted to know if you'd run in this afternoon a few minutes," and +any one less frightened than Lois must have seen that he wished his +mother had chosen another messenger. + +"Is she--is she pretty comfortable?" the girl said, pulling a rose to +pieces, and looking into the cool, dark hall for a third person; but +there was only Max, lying fast asleep under the slender-legged table, +which held a blue bowl full of peonies, rose, and white, and deep glowing +red. + +Dick also glanced towards the door. "Oh, yes, she'll be all right. +Ah--unfortunately, I can't stay very long in Ashurst, but she'll be all +right, I'm sure. You'll cheer her up when I'm gone, Miss Howe?" + +Lois felt herself grow white. A sudden flash of hope came into her mind, +and then fear. What did it mean? Was he going because he dared not ask +her, or would his mother tell him that he would surely succeed? Oh, her +promise! + +Her breath came quick, and Mr. Forsythe saw it, "Yes," he said, +stammering with embarrassment, "I--I fear I shall have to +go--ah--important business." + +Just then both these unhappy young people caught sight of Helen coming +serenely across the lawn. + +"There's my cousin," said Lois; "let us go and meet her." + +"Oh, yes, do!" Dick answered fervently; and presently greeted Helen with +a warmth which made her give Lois a quick, questioning look from under +her straight brows, and sent her thoughts with a flash of sympathy to +Gifford Woodhouse. + +When the young man had gone, Helen said to her cousin, "Lois, dear--?" + +But Lois only threw herself into her arms with such floods of tears Helen +could do nothing but try to calm her. + +Lois was not the only one who heard of Dick's plan of leaving Ashurst +with mingled joy and dread. Gifford knew that Mr. Forsythe was going +away, and seeing the distress in Lois's face, in these sad days, he put +it down to grief at his departure. It was easier to give himself this +pain than to reflect that Lois was trembling with anxiety about Mr. +Denner, and was still full of alarm for Mrs. Forsythe. + +"If that puppy neglects her," he thought, "if she cares for him, and if +he grieves her, I vow I'll have a word to say to him! Now why should she +cry, if it isn't because he's going away?" + +Though he was glad Ashurst would see the last of this objectionable young +man, Lois's grief turned his gladness into pain, and there was no hope +for himself in his relief at Dick's departure. Miss Deborah, with the +best intentions in the world, had made that impossible. + +The day after Dr. Howe had told Mr. Denner that he must die, Gifford had +come home for a few minutes. He had met the little ladies walking arm in +arm up and down one of the shady paths of their walled garden. Miss Ruth +still held her trowel in her hand, and her shabby gloves were stained by +the weeds she had pulled up. + +"Oh, there you are, dear Giff," she cried; "we were just looking for you. +Pray, how is Mr. Denner?" + +Gifford's serious face answered her without words, and none of the group +spoke for a moment. Then Gifford said, "It cannot last much longer. You +see, he suffers very much at night; it doesn't seem as though he could +live through another." + +"Oh, dear me," said Miss Ruth, wiping her eyes with the frankest grief, +"you don't say so!" + +"Haven't you just heard him say so, sister?" asked Miss Deborah, trying +to conceal an unsteady lip by a show of irritation. "Do pay attention." + +"I did, dear Deborah," returned Miss Ruth, "but I cannot bear to believe +it." + +"Your believing it, or not, doesn't alter the case unfortunately. Did he +like the syllabub yesterday, Gifford?" + +"He couldn't eat it," her nephew answered, "but Willie seemed to enjoy +it." + +"Poor child," cried Miss Deborah, full of sympathy, "I'm glad he had +anything to comfort him. But Gifford, do you really feel sure Mr. Denner +cannot recover?" + +"Too sure," replied the young man, with a sigh. + +"There's no doubt about it,--no doubt whatever?" Miss Ruth inquired +anxiously. + +Her nephew looked at her in surprise. "I wish there were." + +"Well, then, sister?" said Miss Ruth. + +Miss Deborah nodded and sighed. "I--I think so," she answered, and the +two sisters turned to go into the house, importance and grief on both +their faces; but Miss Deborah suddenly recollected something she wished +to say. + +"Do you know, Gifford," she said, letting Miss Ruth get a little ahead of +her, "I really think that that young Forsythe is without proper feeling; +and I am surprised at dear Lois, too. I cannot say--I am not at liberty +to say anything more, but at such a time"-- + +Gifford gave her a quick look. "What do you mean, aunt Deborah?" + +But his aunt seemed reluctant to speak, and looked after Miss Ruth, who +was walking slowly up the mossy path, flecked here and there by patches +of sunshine that fell through the flickering leaves above her. When she +was quite out of hearing, Miss Deborah said mysteriously,-- + +"Well, perhaps; I might tell you; you are not like any one else. Ruth +thinks I cannot keep a secret, but then you know your dear aunt Ruth does +not discriminate. You are quite different from the public." + +"Well, and what is it?" he said impatiently, and with a horrible +foreboding. + +"Why, it is settled," answered Miss Deborah; "it is all settled between +Lois and young Forsythe. Arabella Forsythe told Adele Dale, and Adele +Dale told me; quite privately, of course. It wasn't to be mentioned to +any one; but it was only natural to speak of it to dear Ruth and to you." + +Gifford did not wait to hear more. "I must go," he said hurriedly. "I +must get back to Mr. Denner," and he was off. + +"Oh, dear Giff!" cried Miss Deborah; taking little mincing steps as she +tried to run after him. "You won't mention it? You won't speak of it to +any one, or say I--I"-- + +"No!" he called back,--"no, of course not." + +"Not even to your aunt Ruth would be best!" But he did not hear her, and +Miss Deborah went back to the house, annoyed at Gifford, because of her +own indiscretion. + +Miss Ruth had gone to her own bedroom, and some time after Miss Deborah +had disappeared in hers, the younger sister emerged, ready to go to Mr. +Denner's. + +Miss Ruth had dressed with great care, yet with a proper sense of +fitness, considering the occasion. She wore a soft, old-fashioned lawn +with small bunches of purple flowers scattered over it, and gathered very +full about the waist. But, before the swinging mirror of her high bureau, +she thought it looked too light and bright for so sad a visit, and so +trotted up-stairs to the garret, and, standing on tiptoe by a great chest +of drawers, opened one with much care, that the brass rings might not +clatter on the oval plates under them, and disturb Miss Deborah. The +drawer was sweet with lavender and sweet clover, and, as she lifted from +its wrappings of silvered paper a fine black lace shawl, some pale, +brittle rose-leaves fell out upon the floor. That shawl, thrown about her +shoulders, subdued her dress, she thought; and the wide-brimmed black hat +of fine Neapolitan straw, tied with soft black ribbons beneath her little +round chin, completed the look of half mourning. + +Miss Deborah answered her sister's knock at her bedroom door in person. +She was not dressed to make calls, for she wore a short gown over her red +flannel petticoat, and on her feet were large and comfortable list +slippers. Miss Deborah's eyes were red, and she sniffed once, +suspiciously. + +"Why, Ruth Woodhouse!" she cried. "Have you no sense? Don't, for pity's +sake, dress as though you had gone into mourning for the man, when he's +alive. And it is very forward of you, too, for if either of us did it +(being such old friends), it should be I, for I am nearer his age." + +But Miss Ruth did not stop for discussion. "Are you not going?" she said. + +"No," Miss Deborah answered, "we'd better go to-morrow. You might just +inquire of Mary, this afternoon, but we will call to-morrow. It is more +becoming to put it off as long as possible." + +Miss Ruth had her own views, and she consented with but slight demur, and +left Miss Deborah to spend the rest of the afternoon in a big chair by +the open window, with Baxter's "Saints' Rest" upon her knee. + +When Gifford had gone back to the lawyer's house, he found the little +gentleman somewhat brighter. Mary had put a clean white counterpane on +the bed, and buttoned a fresh valance around it; and on the small table +at his side Willie had placed a big bunch of gillyflowers and lupins, +with perhaps less thought of beauty than of love. + +"Gifford," he said, "I am glad to see you. And how, if you please, +did you leave your aunt? I hope you conveyed to her my thanks for her +thoughtfulness, and my apologies for detaining you as well?" + +"Yes, sir," the young man answered, "I did. They are both rejoiced that +I can be of any service." + +Gifford had come to the side of the bed, and, slipping his strong young +arm under Mr. Denner's head, lifted him that he might take with greater +ease the medicine he held in a little slender-stemmed glass. "Ah," said +Mr. Denner, between a sigh and a groan, as Gifford laid him down again, +"how gentle you are! There is a look in your face, sometimes, of one of +your aunts, sir; not, I think, Miss Deborah. I have thought much, since +I--I knew my condition, Gifford, of my wish that your aunt Deborah should +have the miniature of my little sister. I still wish it. It is not easy +for me to decide a momentous question, but, having decided, I am apt to +be firm. Perhaps--unreasonably firm. I would not have you imagine I had, +in any way, changed my mind, as it were--yet I have recurred, +occasionally, in my thoughts, to Miss Ruth. I should not wish to seem to +slight Miss Ruth, Gifford?" + +"She could not feel it so, I know," the young man answered. + +But Mr. Denner's thoughts apparently dwelt upon it, for twice again, in +intervals of those waking dreams, or snatches of sleep, he said, quite to +himself, "It is decided; yet it would seem marked to pass over Miss +Ruth." And again he murmured, "I should not wish to slight Miss Deborah's +sister." + +Later in the afternoon he wakened, with a bright, clear look in his face. +"It occurs to me," he said, "that I have another portrait, of no value at +all compared with the miniature (and of course it is becoming that the +miniature should go to Miss Deborah), which I might give to Miss Ruth. +Because she is the sister of Miss Deborah, you understand, Gifford. +Perhaps you will be so good as to hand me the square package from that +same little drawer? Here is the key." + +Gifford brought it: it was a daguerreotype case, much worn and frayed +along the leather back, and without the little brass hooks which used to +fasten it; instead, a bit of ribbon had been tied about it to keep it +closed. Mr. Denner did not open it; he patted the faded green bow with +his little thin fingers. + +"It is a portrait of myself," he said. "It belonged to my mother. I had +it taken for her when I was but a boy; yes, I was only thirty. She tied +the ribbon; it has never been opened since." + +He put it down on the stand, by the miniature, under the gillies and +lupins. + +So it happened that when Miss Ruth Woodhouse came to inquire for him, she +had been in Mr. Denner's thoughts all the afternoon. "Not," he kept +assuring himself, "not that I have changed my mind,--not at all,--but she +is Miss Deborah's sister." + +It was after five when Mary pushed the library door open softly, and +looked in, and then beckoned mysteriously to Gifford. + +"It is your aunt; she wants to know how he is. You'd better come and tell +her." + +Mr. Denner heard her, and turned his head feebly towards the door. "Miss +Woodhouse, did you say, Mary? Which Miss Woodhouse, if you please?" + +"It's the young one," said Mary, who spoke relatively. + +"Miss Ruth?" Mr. Denner said, with an eager quaver in his voice. +"Gifford, do you think--would you have any objection, Gifford, to +permitting me to see your aunt? That is, if she would be so obliging +and kind as to step in for a moment?" + +"She will be glad to, I know," Gifford answered. "Let me go and bring +her." + +Miss Ruth was in a flutter of grief and excitement. "I'll come, of +course. I--I had rather hoped I might see him; but what will Deborah say? +Yet I can't but think it's better for him not to see two people at once." + +Mr. Denner greeted her by a feeble flourish of his hand. "Oh, dear me, +Mr. Denner," said she, half crying, in spite of Gifford's whispered +caution, "I'm so distressed to see you so ill, indeed I am." + +"Oh, not at all," responded Mr. Denner, but his voice had a strange, +far-away sound in his ears, and he tried to speak louder and more +confidently,--"not at all. You are very good to come, ma'am;" and then +he stopped to remember what it was he had wished to say. + +Miss Ruth was awed into silence, and there was a growing anxiety in +Gifford's face. + +"Ah--yes"--Mr. Denner began again, with a flash of strength in his tone, +"I wished to ask you if you would accept--accept"--he reached towards the +little table, but he could not find the leather case until Gifford put it +into his hand--"if you would be so good as to accept this; and will you +open it, if you please, Miss Ruth?" + +She did so, with trembling fingers. It was a daguerreotype of Mr. Denner; +the high neckcloth and the short-waisted, brass-buttoned coat and +waistcoat showed its age, as well as the dimness of the glass and the +fresh boyish face of the young man of thirty. + +"What--what was I speaking of, Gifford?" said Mr. Denner. + +"You gave my aunt Ruth the picture, sir." + +"Oh, yes, just so, just so. I merely wished to add that I desired to +present it to Miss Deborah's sister,--though it is of no value, not the +least value; but I should be honored by its acceptance. And perhaps you +will be good enough to--to convey the assurance of my esteem to Miss +Deborah. And Gifford--my friend Gifford is to give her the miniature of +my little sister." + +"Yes," said Miss Ruth, who was crying softly. + +"Not that I have--have changed my mind," said Mr. Denner, "but it is not +improper, I am sure, that Miss Deborah's sister should give me--if she +will be so good--her hand, that I may say good-by?" + +Miss Ruth did not quite understand, until Gifford motioned to her to lay +her little hand in that feeble one which was groping blindly towards her. + +Mr. Denner's eyes were very dim. + +"I--I am very happy," he murmured. "I thank you, Ruth;" and then, a +moment after, "If you will excuse me, I think I will rest for a few +moments." + +Still holding Miss Ruth's hand, he turned his head in a weary way towards +the light, and softly closed his eyes. + +Mr. Denner rested. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Perhaps the majesty of Death is better understood when some little soul +is swallowed up in the great Mystery than when one is taken on whom Life +has laid her bright touch, and made famous and necessary. + +Even in quiet Ashurst, Mr. Denner was, as he himself would have, said, of +no consequence, and his living was not felt in any way; yet when he was +gone, a sudden knowledge came of how much he was to them, and how great a +blank he left. So Death creates greatness. + +It was well for Lois Howe, in those first sad days, that her cousin was +with her, or the reaction from the excitement of anxiety into hopeless +grief might have been even more prostrating than it was. All the comfort +and tenderness Helen could give her in her helpless self-reproach were +hers, though she as well as Gifford never sought to make the sorrow less +by evading the truth. But Helen was troubled about her, and said to Dr. +Howe, "Lois must come to see me for a while; she does need a change very +much. I'm afraid she won't be able to go with me next week, but can't she +come as soon as she is strong enough to travel?" + +And so it was decided that she should come with Gifford, who would go +back to Lockhaven in about a fortnight. Business, which never reached Mr. +Denner in Mercer, had been offered the young lawyer, and he had been +willing to stay in Ashurst a little longer, though he had told himself he +was a fool. + +Lois looked forward to the visit with feverish anxiety. Mr. Forsythe, +perhaps to please his mother, but certainly with rather an ill grace, had +lingered in Ashurst. But he had not been very much at the rectory; +perhaps because it was not a time to make visits, or be careless and +light-hearted, while little Mr. Denner was fading out of life, and his +mother felt herself trembling on the edge of the grave. This, at least, +was what Mrs. Forsythe said to Lois more than once, with an anxious, +troubled look, which perhaps explained more than her words did. + +She had accepted very complacently Lois's protestations of joy and +gratitude that she was no longer, as she expressed it, in immediate +danger, but she did not apparently feel that that altered at all the +conditions of the promise Lois had given her, which was evidently a very +precious thing. Nor did Lois remonstrate against being held by it. She +felt she deserved any grief that came to her, and it would have been +cowardly, she thought, to shrink from what she had undertaken merely +because she had been so far mercifully spared the grief of Mrs. +Forsythe's death. And who could tell that she would live, even yet? +Certainly Mrs. Forsythe herself seemed to consider her recovery a matter +of grave doubt, and Lois's anxieties were quick to agree with her. + +So she went about with a white face and eyes from which all the careless +gayety had gone, simply bearing her life with a dull pain and in constant +fear. Gifford saw it, and misunderstood it; he thought, in view of what +Miss Deborah had told him and what he knew of Mr. Forsythe's plans, that +it was natural for Lois to look unhappy. Anxieties are very misleading; +the simple explanation of remorse for her carelessness did not come into +Gifford's mind at all. + +One afternoon,--it was the day following Mr. Denner's funeral,--Gifford +thought this all over, and tried to see what his life offered him for the +future, now that the last faint hope of winning Lois's love had died. Mr. +Denner's will had been read that morning in his dining-room, with only +Dr. Howe and Mary and Willie present, while the rain beat persistently +against the windows, and made the room so dark that Gifford had to call +for a candle, and hold the paper close to his eyes to see to read. Willie +had shivered, and looked steadfastly under the table, thinking, while his +little heart beat suffocatingly, that he was glad there were no prayers +after a will. When that was over, and Dr. Howe had carried Willie back +with him to be cheered and comforted at the rectory, Gifford had devoted +himself to disposing of such small effects as Mr. Denner had left as +personal bequests. + +They were not very many. A certain bamboo rod with silver mountings and a +tarnished silver reel, were for Dr. Howe; and there were a few books to +be sent to Mr. Dale, and six bottles of Tokay, '52, for Colonel Drayton. +There was a mourning-ring, which had been Mr. Denner's father's, for a +distant cousin, who was further comforted by a few hundred dollars, but +all the rest was for Willie. + +Gifford had felt, as he sat at Mr. Denner's writing-desk and touched some +small possessions, all the pathetic powerlessness of the dead. How Mr. +Denner had treasured his little valueless belongings! There was a pair of +silver shoe-buckles, wrapped in chamois skin, which the little gentleman +had faithfully kept bright and shining; they had belonged to his +grandfather, and Mr. Denner could remember when they had been worn, and +the knee-breeches, and the great bunch of seals at the fob. Perhaps, when +his little twinkling brown eyes looked at them, he felt again the thrill +of love and fear for the stately gentleman who had awed his boyhood. +There was a lock of faded gray hair in a yellow old envelope, on which +was written, in the lawyer's precise hand, "My mother's hair," and a date +which seemed to Gifford very far back. There were one or two relics of +the little sister: a small green morocco shoe, which had buttoned about +her ankle, and a pair of gold shoulder-straps, and a narrow pink ribbon +sash that had grown yellow on the outside fold. + +There was a pile of neatly kept diaries, with faithful accounts of the +weather, and his fishing excursions, and the whist parties; scarcely more +than this, except a brief mention of a marriage or a death. Of course +there were letters; not very many, but all neatly labeled with the +writer's name and the date of their arrival. These Gifford burned, and +the blackened ashes were in the wide fireplace, behind a jug of flowers, +on which he could hear, down the chimney, the occasional splash of a +raindrop. There was one package of letters where the name was "Gertrude;" +there were but few of these, and, had Gifford looked, he would have seen +that the last one, blistered with tears, said that her father had +forbidden further correspondence, and bade him, with the old epistolary +formality from which not even love could escape, "an eternal farewell." +But the tear-stains told more than the words, at least of Mr. Denner's +heart, if not of pretty sixteen-year-old Gertrude's. These were among the +first to be burned; yet how Mr. Denner had loved them, even though +Gertrude, running away with her dancing-master, and becoming the mother +of a family of boys, had been dead these twenty years, and the proverb +had pointed to Miss Deborah Woodhouse! + +Some papers had to be sealed, and the few pieces of silver packed, ready +to be sent to the bank in Mercer, and then Gifford had done. + +He was in the library, from which the bed had been moved, and which was +in trim and dreary order. The rain still beat fitfully upon the windows, +and the room was quite dark. Gifford had pushed the writing-desk up to +the window for the last ray of light, and now he sat there, the papers +all arranged and nothing more to do, yet a vague, tender loyalty to the +little dead gentleman keeping him. And sitting, leaning his elbows on the +almost unspotted sheet of blue blotting-paper which covered the open flap +of the desk, he fell into troubled thinking. + +"Of course," he said to himself, "she's awfully distressed about Mr. +Denner, but there's something more than that. She seems to be watching +for something all the time; expecting that fellow, beyond a doubt. And +why he is not there oftener Heaven only knows! And to think of his going +off on his confounded business at such a time, when she is in such +trouble! If only for a week, he has no right to go and leave her. His +business is to stay and comfort her. Then, when he is at the rectory, +what makes him pay her so little attention? If he wasn't a born cad, +somebody ought to thrash him for his rudeness. If Lois had a +brother!--But I suppose he does not know any better, and then Lois +loves him. Where's Helen's theory now, I wonder? Oh, I suppose she thinks +he is all right. I'd like to ask her, if I hadn't promised aunt Deborah." + +Just here, Gifford heard the garden gate close with a bang, and some one +came down the path, holding an umbrella against the pelting rain, so that +his face was hidden. But Gifford knew who it was, even before Mary, +shuffling asthmatically through the hall, opened the door to say, "Mr. +Forsythe's here to see you." + +"Ask him to come in," he said, pushing his chair back from the secretary, +and lifting the flap to lock it as he spoke. + +Dick Forsythe came in, shaking his dripping umbrella, and saying with a +good-natured laugh, "Jove! what a wet day! You need a boat to get through +the garden. Your aunt--the old one, I think it was--asked me, if I was +passing, to bring you these overshoes. She was afraid you had none, and +would take cold." + +He laughed again, as though he knew how amusing such nonsense was, and +then had a gleam of surprise at Gifford's gravity. + +"I'd gone to her house with a message from my mother," he continued; "you +know we get off to-morrow. Mother's decided to go, too, so of course +there are a good many things to do, and the old lady is so strict about +Ashurst customs I've had to go round and 'return thanks' to everybody." + +Gifford had taken the parcel from Dick's hand, and thanked him briefly. +The young man, however, seemed in no haste to go. + +"I don't know which is damper, this room or out-of-doors," he said, +seating himself in Mr. Denner's big chair,--though Gifford was +standing--and looking about in an interested way; "must have been a +gloomy house to live in. Wonder he never got married. Perhaps he couldn't +find anybody willing to stay in such a hole,--it's so confoundedly damp. +He died in here, didn't he?" This was in a lower voice. + +"Yes," Gifford answered. + +"Shouldn't think you'd stay alone," Dick went on; "it is awfully dismal. +I see he cheered himself once in a while." He pointed to a tray, which +held a varied collection of pipes and a dingy tobacco pouch of buckskin +with a border of colored porcupine quills. + +"Yes, Mr. Denner smoked," Gifford was constrained to say. + +"I think," said Dick, clapping his hand upon his breast-pocket, "I'll +have a cigar myself. It braces one up this weather." He struck a match on +the sole of his boot, forgetting it was wet, and vowing good-naturedly +that he was an ass. "No objection, I suppose?" he added, carefully biting +off the end of his cigar. + +"I should prefer," Gifford replied slowly, "that you did not smoke. There +is an impropriety about it, which surely you must appreciate." + +Dick looked at him, with the lighted match flaring bluely between his +fingers. "Lord!" he said, "how many things are improper in Ashurst! But +just as you say, of course." He put his cigar back in an elaborate case, +and blew out the match, throwing it into the fireplace, among the +flowers. "The old gentleman smoked himself, though." + +Gifford's face flushed slowly, and he spoke with even more deliberation +than usual. "Since you have decided not to smoke, you must not let me +detain you. I am very much obliged for the package." + +"You're welcome, I'm sure," Dick said. "Yes, I suppose I'd better be +getting along. Well, I'll say good-by, Mr. Woodhouse. I suppose I sha'n't +see you before I go? And Heaven knows when I'll be in Ashurst again!" + +Gifford started. "Sit down a moment," he said, waving aside Dick's hand. +"Surely you are not leaving Ashurst for any length of time?" + +"Length of time?" answered the other, laughing. "Well, I rather think so. +I expect to go abroad next month." + +A curious desire came into Gifford Woodhouse's strong hands to take this +boy by the throat, and shake him until his ceaseless smile was torn to +pieces. Instead of that, however, he folded his arms, and stood looking +down at his companion in silence. + +Dick had seated himself again, and was twirling his wet umbrella round +and round by the shiny end of one of the ribs. "Yes," he said, "this is a +long good-by to Ashurst." + +"Mr. Forsythe," said Gifford, with an edge of anger in his voice which +could not have escaped even a more indifferent ear than Dick's, "may I +ask if Dr. Howe knows of your plans?" + +Dick looked up, with a sudden ugly shadow coming across the sunny +brightness of his face. "I don't know what I've done to deserve this +concern on your part, Mr. Woodhouse; but, since you ask, I have no +objection to saying that Dr. Howe does not particularly interest himself +in my affairs. I don't know whether he's aware of my plans, and I care +less." + +He rose, and stood grasping his wet umbrella mid-ways, looking defiantly +into Gifford's face. It was singular how instantly, in some wordless way, +he appreciated that he had been blamed. + +Gifford began to speak in the slow, measured tone which showed how he was +guarding his words. "You may not care for his interest," he said, "but +you can scarcely expect that he would not notice your absence." + +"I cannot see that my movements are of so much importance to Dr. Howe," +Dick answered, "and he certainly has never taken it upon himself to +meddle in my affairs to the extent of asking me about them." + +"Nevertheless," said Gifford, with ominous gentleness, "he must +feel--surprise at your departure. That your business should take you away +at this time, Mr. Forsythe, is unfortunate." + +"I know my business, at least," cried the other loudly, his voice +trembling with anger, "and I'm capable of attending to it without +suggestions from you! I'll trouble you to speak plainly, instead of +hinting. What right have you to question my leaving Ashurst?" + +"No right," Gifford said calmly. + +"Why don't you speak out like a man?" Forsythe demanded with a burst of +rage, striking the table with his fist. "What do you mean by your damned +impudence? So you dare to question my conduct to Lois Howe, do you?--you +confounded prig!" + +"Be silent!" Gifford said between his teeth. "Gentlemen do not introduce +the name of a woman into their discussions. You forgot yourself. It is +unnecessary to pursue this subject. I have nothing more to say." + +"But I have more to say. Who gave you the right to speak to me? The lady +herself? She must be indeed distressed to choose you for a messenger." + +Gifford did not answer; for a moment the dark room was very still, except +for the beating rain and the tapping of the ivy at the south window. + +"Or perhaps," he went on, a sneer curling his handsome mouth, "you will +comfort her yourself, instead? Well, you're welcome." + +Gifford's hands clenched on the back of the chair in front of him. "Sir," +he said, "this place protects you, and you know it." + +But Dick Forsythe was beside himself with anger. He laughed insultingly. +"I'll not detain you any longer. Doubtless you will wish to go to the +rectory to-night. But I'm afraid, even though I'm obliging enough to +leave Ashurst, you will have no"--He did not finish his sentence. Gifford +Woodhouse's hand closed like a vise upon his collar. There were no words. +Dick's struggles were as useless as beating against a rock; his maddest +efforts could not shake off that relentless hand. Gifford half pushed, +half carried, him to the door, and in another moment Dick Forsythe found +himself flung like a snapping cur in the mud and rain of Mr. Denner's +garden. + +He gathered himself up, and saw Gifford standing in the doorway, as +though to offer him a chance of revenge. + +"Damn you!" he screamed, furious with passion. "I'll pay you for this! +I--I"--He choked with rage, and shook his fist at the motionless figure +on the steps. Then, trembling with impotent fury, oaths stumbling upon +his lips, he turned and rushed into the gathering darkness. + +Gifford watched him, and then the door swung shut, and he went back +to Mr. Denner's library. His breath was short, and he was tingling +with passion, but he had no glow of triumph. "I've been a fool," he +said,--"I've been a fool! I've made it worse for her. The hound!" + +But in spite of his genuine contrition, there was a subtile joy. "He does +not love her," he thought, "and she will forget him." + +Yet, as he sat there in Mr. Denner's dark library, filled with remorse +and unabated rage as well, he began to realize that he had been +meddlesome; and he was stung with a sudden sense that it was not +honorable to have pushed his questions upon Forsythe. Gifford's +relentless justice overtook him. Had he not given Forsythe the right to +insult him? Would not he have protected himself against any man's prying? +Gifford blushed hotly in the darkness. "But not to use Lois's name,--not +that! Nothing could justify the insult to her!" + +Mary came in to lock up, and started with fright at the sight of the +dark, still figure. "Lord! it's a ghost!" she cried shrilly. + +"I am here, Mary," he said wearily. "I'm going home now." + +And so he did, walking doggedly through the storm, with his head bent and +his hands in his pockets, forgetful of Miss Deborah's thoughtfulness in +the way of rubbers, and only anxious to avoid any kindly interruption +from his aunts, which their anxiety concerning damp clothes might +occasion. But he could not escape them. Miss Deborah met him at the door +with a worried face. "My dear boy!" she said, "no umbrella? Pray go to +bed directly, and let me bring you a hot drink. You will surely have a +cough to-morrow." But the little lady came back to the parlor with an +aggrieved face, for he had answered her with quiet determination not to +be fussed over. The sisters heard him walk quickly up-stairs and lock his +door. They looked at each other in astonishment. + +"He feels it very much," said Miss Ruth. + +"Yes," returned Miss Deborah; "he has been sorting the papers all the +afternoon. I must go and see Willie to-morrow." + +"Oh, I'll do that," Miss Ruth answered. "I cannot help feeling that it +is--my place." + +"Not at all," replied Miss Deborah firmly; "the miniature shows plainly +his sentiments towards me. I know he would wish me to look after Willie. +Indeed, I feel it a sacred duty." + +Miss Deborah moved her hands nervously. Mr. Denner's death was too recent +for it to be possible to speak of him without agitation. + +"Well," said Miss Ruth, "perhaps, after all, you are right, in a way. The +miniature is childish. Of course a portrait of himself has a far deeper +meaning." + +"Ruth Woodhouse," cried the other, "I'm ashamed of you! Didn't you tell +me yourself he said it was of no value? And you know how much he thought +of the little sister!" + +"But that was his modesty," said Miss Ruth eagerly. However, both ladies +parted for the night with unaltered convictions, and the younger sister, +opening the daguerreotype for one last look by her bedroom candle, +murmured to herself, "I wonder what Deborah would think if she knew he +said 'Ruth'?" + +The Forsythes went away the next morning. Perhaps it was the early start +which prevented Dick from seeing Gifford again, and finishing the so +summarily ended quarrel, or possibly it was recollection of the weight of +Gifford Woodhouse's hand. Yet he thought he had found a means of revenge. + +In spite of the rain, he had gone to the rectory. Helen was writing to +her husband, and Dr. Howe was reading. "You'll have to see him in the +parlor, Lois," her father said, looking at her over his paper, as Sally +announced Mr. Forsythe. + +"Oh, father!" she said. + +"Nonsense," replied the rector impatiently, "you know him well enough to +receive him alone. I can't be interrupted. Run along, child." + +"Will you come in, Helen, dear?" she pleaded. + +"Yes," Helen said, glancing at her with absent eyes; it was hard to leave +the intricacies of a theological argument to think of a girl's lover. +"I'll come soon." + +But in a letter to John she forgot every one else, and when Lois went +tremblingly out of the room both the rector and his niece lost themselves +in their own interests. + +"Good-evening, Miss Lois," Dick said, coming towards her with extended +hand. + +She could hardly hear her answer for her beating heart. + +"I came to say good-by," he went on, his bright blue eyes fastened +angrily upon her; but she did not see him. + +"You go to-morrow?" she faltered. + +"Yes," he answered; "but I could not leave Ashurst without--one more look +at the rectory." + +Lois did not speak. Oh, why did not Helen come? + +"A different scene this from that night after the dinner party," Dick +thought, looking at her downcast eyes and trembling hands with cruel +exultation in his face, "If I cared!" + +"How I have adored Ashurst!" he said slowly, wondering how far it would +be safe to go. "I have been very happy here. I hope I shall be still +happier, Lois?" + +Still she did not answer, but she pressed her hands hard together. Dick +looked at her critically. + +"When I come again,--oh, when I come again,--then, if you have not +forgotten me--Tell me you will not forget me, until I come again?" + +Lois shook her head. Dick had drawn her to a seat, and his eager face was +close to hers. + +"I said good-by to the rector this afternoon," he said, "but I felt I +must see you again, alone." + +Lois was silent. + +"I wonder if you know," he went on, "how often I shall think of Ashurst, +and of you?" + +He had possessed himself of her hand, which was cold and rigid, but lay +passively in his. She had turned her face away from him, and in a +stunned, helpless way was waiting for the question which seemed on his +lips. "And you know what my thoughts will be," he said meaningly. "You +make Ashurst beautiful." + +He saw the color, which had rushed to her face when he had begun to talk, +fade slowly; even her lips were white. But she never looked at him. + +"You were not always kind to me," he continued, "but when I come back"-- + +She turned with a sudden impulse toward him, her breath quick and her +lips unsteady. "Mr. Forsythe," she said, "I"-- + +But he had risen. "I suppose I must go," he said in his natural voice, +from which sentiment had fled, and left even a suggestion of alarm. +"It is late, and mother may need something,--you know she's always +needing something. We never can forget your kindness, Miss Lois. +Good-by,--good-by!" + +Though he lingered on that last word and pressed her hand, he had gone in +another moment. Lois stood breathless. She put her hands up to her head, +as though to quiet the confusion of her thoughts. What did it mean? Was +it only to let her see that he still loved her? Was he coming again? + +When Helen, remembering her duties, came into the parlor, it was +deserted, and Lois was facing her misery and fright in her own room, +while Dick Forsythe, raging homeward through the rain, was saying to +himself, "I've put an end to your prospects! She'll wait for me, if it is +six years. It is just as well she doesn't know I'm going abroad. I'll +tell mother not to mention it. Mother was right when she said I could +have her for the asking!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Helen's desire to get back to John made her decide to start on Monday, +instead of waiting until Wednesday, when the fortnight she had planned +for her visit ended. + +"I must go," she said, smiling at Dr. Howe's railings. "I cannot stay +away from home any longer. And you'll come soon, Lois, dear!" + +Even daily letters from John had not saved her from homesickness. They +were a comfort, even though they were filled with pleadings and prayers +that, for her soul's sake, she would see the error of her belief. Such +tenderness struggled through the pages of argument, Helen would lay her +cheek against them, and say softly, "I'll come home to you soon, dear." + +One of these last letters had entreated her to write immediately upon its +receipt, and answer it point by point. She did so, saying at the last, +"Now let us drop the whole subject. I will never, as long as I have +reason, believe this terrible doctrine,--never. So why need we ever speak +of it again? I know it is your fear of eternity which leads you to try to +make me believe it, but, dearest, if eternity depends on this, it is +already settled; let us just be glad together while we can, in this +beautiful time. Oh, I shall soon be home; I can think of nothing else." + +And she counted the hours until she could start. When the morning came, +with its clear June sky, and great white clouds lying dreamily behind the +hills, her face was running over with gladness, in spite of her sympathy +for Lois's grief. + +"How happy you look!" Lois said wistfully, as she sat watching Helen put +on her bonnet before the swinging mirror in its white and gold frame, on +her dressing-table. + +Helen had not known how her eyes were smiling, and she looked with quick +compunction at Lois's white face. "I shall see John so soon," she +answered contritely. "I can't help it." + +"I shall miss you awfully," Lois went on, leaning her forehead against +the edge of the bureau, and knotting the long linen fringe of the cover +with nervous little fingers. + +"But think how soon I'll have you in Lockhaven, dear; and you will be a +little stronger then, and happier, too," Helen said, brightly. + +For Lois was so worn and tired that a less active person would have +called herself ill; as it was, she was not able to bear the long ride to +Mercer and back, and Helen was to go alone, for Dr. Howe had to go out of +Ashurst a little way, to perform a marriage ceremony. + +"You'll have rain before the day is over, my dear," he said, as he put +her into the carriage, "and that will make it better traveling, no dust. +It's a shame that I should have to go in the other direction. Why +couldn't those people get married to-morrow instead of to-day, I should +like to know? Or why couldn't you stay twenty-four hours longer? Could +not stand it to be away from home another minute! Well, well, that's +right,--that's the way it should be. Hope Ward is as anxious to get you +back as you are to run off and leave us; perhaps he doesn't want you, +young lady." The rector laughed at Helen's confident look. "I don't half +like your going to Mercer by yourself," he added. + +"Oh, I shall get along very well," said Helen cheerily. "I have no doubt +there'll be a letter for me from John at the post-office, and I will get +it as we go through the village. I'll have that to read." + +"It will hardly last all the way to Lockhaven," Lois commented. + +"Oh, yes, it will," answered Helen, with a ripple of joy in her tone, +which, for pure gladness, was almost laughter. "You don't know, Lois!" + +Lois smiled drearily; she was sitting on the steps, her arms crossed +listlessly on her knees, and her eyes fixed in an absent gaze on the +garden. + +"Here's Giff," Helen continued, arranging her traveling-bag and some +books on the opposite seat of the carriage. "I shall just have time to +say good-by to him." + +"That is what I came for," Gifford said, as he took her hand a moment. +"I will bring Lois safely to you in a fortnight." + +Mrs. Dale was on the porch, and Sally and Jean stood smiling in the +doorway; so, followed by hearty good-bys and blessings, with her hands +full of flowers, and the sunshine resting on her happy face and +glinting through her brown hair, Helen drove away. + +Mr. Dale was at the post-office, and came out to hand her the letter she +expected. + +"So you're off?" he said, resting his hand on the carriage door, and +looking at her with a pleasant smile. "You've made me think of the +starling, this last week,--you remember the starling in the Bastile? +'I can't get out,' says the starling,--'I can't get out.' Well, I'm glad +you want to get out, my dear. My regards to your husband." He stood +watching the carriage whirl down the road, with a shade of envy on his +face. + +When Helen had gone, and the little group on the porch had scattered, +Lois rose to go into the house, but Gifford begged her to wait. + +"You stay too much in-doors," he remonstrated; "it has made your face a +little white. Do come into the garden awhile." + +"She does look badly," said Mrs. Dale from the top of the steps, +contemplating her niece critically. "I declare it puts me out of all +patience with her, to see her fretting in this way." + +Mrs. Dale was experiencing that curious indignation at a friend's +suffering which expends itself upon the friend; in reality her heart was +very tender towards her niece. "She misses the Forsythes," Mrs. Dale +continued. "She's been so occupied with Arabella Forsythe since the +accident, she feels as if she had nothing to do." + +There was no lack of color in Lois's face now, which did not escape +Gifford's eye. + +"Go, now, and walk with Gifford," said Mrs. Dale coaxingly, as though she +were speaking to a child. + +Lois shook her head, without looking at him. "I don't believe I will, if +you don't mind." + +But Mrs. Dale was not satisfied. "Oh, yes, you'd better go. You've +neglected the flowers dreadfully, I don't know how long it is since your +father has had any fresh roses in the library." + +"I'll get the garden scissors," Gifford pleaded; "it won't take long just +to cut some roses." + +"Well," Lois said languidly. + +Gifford went through the wide cool hall for the shears and the basket of +scented grass for the posies; he knew the rectory as well as his own +home. Mrs. Dale had followed him, and in the shadowy back hall she gave +him a significant look. + +"That's right, cheer her up. Of course she feels their going very much. +I must say, it does not show much consideration on the part of the young +man to leave her at such a time,--I don't care what the business is that +calls him away! Still, I can't say that I'm surprised. I never did like +that Dick, and I have always been afraid Lois would care for him." + +"I think it is a great misfortune," Gifford said gravely. + +"Oh, well, I don't know," demurred Mrs. Dale. "It is an excellent match; +and his carelessness now--well, it is only to be expected from a young +man who would carry his mother off from--from our care, to be looked +after by a hired nurse. He thought," said Mrs. Dale, bridling her head +and pursing up her lips, "that a lot of 'fussy old women' couldn't take +care of her. Still, it will be a good marriage for Lois. I'm bound to say +that, though I have never liked him." + +The young people did not talk much as they went down into the garden. +Lois pointed out what roses Gifford might cut, and, taking them from him, +put them into the little basket on her arm. + +"How I miss Helen!" she said at last. + +"Yes, of course," he answered, "but think how soon you'll see her in +Lockhaven;" and then he tried to make her talk of the lumber town, and +the people, and John Ward. But he had the conversation quite to himself. +At last, with a desperate desire to find something in which she would be +interested, he said, "You must miss your friends very much. I'm sorry +they are gone." + +"My friends?" + +"Yes, Mr. Forsythe--and his mother." + +"Oh, no!" she answered quickly. + +"No?" Gifford said, wondering if she were afraid he had discovered her +secret, and hastening to help her conceal it. "Oh, of course you feel +that the change will be good for Mrs. Forsythe?" + +"Oh, I hope it will!" cried Lois, fear trembling in the earnestness of +her voice. + +Gifford had stepped over the low box border to a stately bunch of +milk-white phlox. "Let's have some of this," he said, beginning to cut +the long stems close to the roots; "it always looks so well in the blue +jug." + +His back was toward her, and perhaps that gave him the courage to say, +with a suddenness that surprised himself, "Ah--does Mrs. Forsythe go +abroad with her son?" + +Even as he spoke he wondered why he had said it; certainly it was from no +interest in the sick lady. Was it because he hoped to betray Lois into +some expression of opinion concerning Mr. Forsythe's departure? He +despised himself if it were a test, but he did not stop to follow the +windings of his own motives. + +"Abroad?" Lois said, in a quick, breathless way. "Does he go abroad?" + +Gifford felt her excitement and suspense without seeing it, and he began +to clip the phlox with a recklessness which would have wrung Dr. Howe's +soul. + +"I--I believe so. I supposed you knew it." + +"How do you know it?" she demanded. + +"He told me," Gifford admitted. + +"Are you sure?" she said in a quavering voice. + +Gifford had turned, and was stepping carefully back among the plants, +sinking at every step into the soft fresh earth. He did not look at her, +as he reached the path. + +"Are you sure?" she said again. + +"Yes," he answered reluctantly, "yes, he is going; I don't know about his +mother." + +Here, to his dismay, he saw the color come and go on Lois's sad little +face, and her lip tremble, and her eyes fill, and then, dropping her +roses, she began to cry heartily. + +"Oh, Lois!" he exclaimed, aghast, and was at her side in a moment. But +she turned away, and, throwing her arm about an old locust-tree in the +path, laid her cheek against the rough bark, and hid her eyes. + +"Oh, don't cry, Lois," he besought her. "What a brute I was to have told +you in that abrupt way! Don't cry." + +"Oh, no," she said, "no, no, no! you must not say that--you--you do not +understand"-- + +"Don't," he said tenderly, "don't--Lois!" + +Lois put one hand softly on his arm, but she kept her face covered. +Gifford was greatly distressed. + +"I ought not to have told you in that way,"--Lois shook her +head,--"and--and I have no doubt he--they'll come to Ashurst and +tell you of their plans before they start." + +Lois seemed to listen. + +"Yes," Gifford continued, gaining conviction from his desire to help her, +"of course he will return." + +Lois had ceased to cry. "Do--do you think so?" + +"I'm sure of it," Gifford answered firmly; and even as he spoke, he had a +mental vision, in which he saw himself bringing Dick Forsythe back to +Ashurst, and planting him forcibly at Lois's feet. "I ought to have +considered," he went on, looking at her anxiously, "that in your +exhausted state it would be a shock to hear that your friends were going +so far away; though Europe isn't so very far, Lois. Of course they'll +come and tell you all about it before they go; probably they had their +own reasons for not doing it before they left Ashurst,--your health, +perhaps. But no doubt, no possible doubt, that Mr. Forsythe, at least, +will come back here to make any arrangements there may be about his +house, you know." + +This last was a very lame reason, and Gifford felt it, for the house had +been closed and the rent paid, and there was nothing more to do; but he +must say something to comfort her. + +Lois had quite regained her composure; even the old hopeless look had +returned. + +"I beg your pardon," she said. "I am very--foolish. I don't know why I am +so weak--I--I am still anxious about Mrs. Forsythe, you know; the long +journey for her"-- + +"Of course," he assured her. "I know how it startled you." + +She turned to go into the house, and Gifford followed her, first picking +up the neglected roses at her feet. + +"I do not know what you think of me," she said tremulously. + +"I only think you are not very strong," he answered tenderly, yet keeping +his eyes from her averted face; he felt that he had seen more than he had +a right to, already. His first thought was to protect her from herself; +she must not think she had betrayed herself, and fancy that Gifford had +guessed her engagement. He still hoped that, for the sake of their old +friendship, she would freely choose to tell him. But most of all, she +should not feel that she had shown despairing love for a man who +neglected and slighted her, and that her companion pitied her. He even +refused to let his thought turn to it. + +"You must not mind me, Lois. I quite understand--the suddenness of +hearing even the most--indifferent thing is enough to upset one when one +is so tired out with nursing, and all that. Don't mind me." + +"You are so good, Gifford," she said, with a sudden shy look from under +her wet lashes, and a little lightening of her heavy eyes. + +It was at least a joy to feel that he could comfort her, even though it +cut his own heart to do so, and the pain of it made him silent for a few +minutes. + +When they had reached the steps, Lois's face had settled into its white +apathy, which was almost despair. "I think I'll go in, Giff," she said. +"I am so tired." + +"Won't you fix the roses?" he asked. + +She shook her head. "No, I--I don't care anything about them; Sally can +do it. Just leave them on the steps." + +She gave him a wan little smile, and went into the house. Gifford stood +in the sunshine, with the roses and the white phlox, and looked after her +retreating figure. But in spite of his heartache, he would not leave the +flowers to die, so he went hunting about for something to put them in, +and finding the India china punch-bowl, with its soft blues and greens +of enamel, and twists of roses and butterflies over groups of tiny +mandarins, he brought it out, and laid his flowers in it, a little +clumsily, perhaps, and heedless that some of the stems stuck out; but +as he forgot the water, this did not so much matter. Then he carried it +into the hall, and put it down on the table under the square window, and +plodded home alone. + +The noon sunshine poured hot and bright through the little panes of +glass, and when Lois, later in the day, found the withered, drooping +roses and the hanging heads of the white phlox, she felt they were only +in keeping with all the rest of life. + +Even the sparkling day had darkened, and Dr. Howe's prophecy of rain had +been fulfilled. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +It grew quite chilly towards dusk, which gave Dr. Howe an excuse for +putting a match to the dusty pile of logs in the library fireplace. He +liked the snap and glow of the flames, and did not object to the mild, +soft heat; so he sat there long after Lois had gone wearily up-stairs to +bed, and the rectory was full of drowsy silence. + +Outside, the tree which leaned toward the house bent and swayed in the +wind, and scratched against the weather boards, while the rain came in a +quick dash against the glass, and then seemed to listen for an answer, +and waver, and retreat, and go sweeping down among the bushes in the +garden. + +The rector had not lighted his lamp; the faint, still light from two +candles in the row of silver candlesticks on the tall mantel was all he +wanted until he began to read. He was ready to do that later. A church +journal, with an account of a quarrel between a High-Church clergyman and +his Low-Church Bishop, was within reach of his hand, and the "Three +Guardsmen," in a ragged yellow cover, was astride his knee, but now he +was content to sit and think. He made a prosperous and comfortable +figure, reflected in the dim, dark mirror over the mantel, where the +candles shone back like stars in a pool at night. A white moth had found +its way into the house, and fluttered back and forth between the candles, +its little white ghost following it in the glass. The rector watched it +placidly. Even his thoughts were tranquil and comfortable, for he was +equally indifferent both to the bishop and his rebellious clergyman. +There was a cup of mulled wine simmering by the brass dogs, and the +fire sputtered and sung softly. Max, with his nose between his paws, +watched it with sleepy eyes. The little tinge of melancholy in Dr. Howe's +face did not interfere with a look of quiet satisfaction with life; +perhaps, indeed, it gave an added charm to his ruddy, handsome features. +At first he had been thinking of Mr. Denner; not of that distressing day +when he had told him of approaching death,--that was too painful for such +an hour, he meant to meet it later,--but of the sad vacancy the little +gentleman had left. + +Perhaps the consciousness of the thought from which he was hiding turned +his mind to Helen, and here all was satisfactory. There had been no +discussion, none of the theological argument that her letters had given +him cause to dread, which had made him feel a quiver in that solid rock +of custom that a long-quieted earthquake had once shaken to its centre. +He felt in a vague way that his niece was not quite so near and familiar, +and there was a subtile reserve, which did not show itself in words or +any check in the expression of her love, but which was certainly there. +Yet he did not analyze it; he did not care to realize that perhaps she +feared to speak of what was so real to her, because she knew he had no +help for her. Dr. Howe would have perfectly understood that this must +inevitably create a distance between them; but it would have been +extremely painful to have let this creep into his thoughts, just as it +would have been painful for him had she spoken of it; so he preferred to +say to himself that all was well. The child had gotten over all that +foolishness; he would have disliked to find fault with her, as he must +have done had she mentioned it; he was glad it was all forgotten. He was +glad, too, Lois was going to Lockhaven to see her. Poor little Lois! Ah, +poor Denner! Well, well, there are some very sad things in life. And he +lifted his mug of mulled wine, and drank thoughtfully, and then crossed +his legs again on the fender; and the rain beat and sobbed outside. + +He wondered if Lois's pale face had any connection with the departure of +the Forsythes. Mrs. Dale had hinted at it, though she had not dared to +quote Arabella Forsythe's triumphant secret. Then he remembered how +disappointed he had been that nothing came of that affair. But on the +whole it would have been very lonely at the rectory without Lois. It was +just as well. Dr. Howe generally found that most things were "just as +well." Indeed, he had been heard to say that, with a good digestion, any +sorrow showed itself to have been best inside three years. Perhaps he had +forgotten for the moment that he was a widower; but at all events, he +said it. + +So he blew his logs to a brighter blaze, and drank the rest of his mulled +wine, stirring it round and round for the nutmeg and spice, and said to +himself, listening to the beat of the rain as he pulled Max's silky ears, +that it was the worst June storm he remembered. Perhaps that was why he +did not hear the front door open and close with a bang against the gust +which tried to force its way into the house, blowing out the hall lights, +and sending a dash of rain into Sally's face. + +"Lord!" cried Sally, with a shrill scream, "it's Miss Helen's ghost!" + +The face she saw was ghost-like indeed. It was wet and streaming with +rain, and the dark eyes were strange and unseeing. + +"Do not tell Miss Lois I am here," the pale lips said. "Where is my +uncle? I must see him." + +Sally could only point speechlessly to the library door. Helen went +swiftly towards it. She seemed to hesitate a moment before she entered, +and then she opened it, and closed it again behind her, standing silently +in front of it. + +Dr. Howe looked up calmly, expecting to see Sally; but the sight of that +still figure, with eyes which looked at him with a curious fixedness, +sent the color from his face in one moment of actual fright. "Helen!" he +cried, springing to his feet. "Good heavens! child, what is it? What is +the matter?" + +"I have come back," she answered, uttering each word with that peculiar +slowness one notices in a very sick person, who tries to hear himself +speak. + +Dr. Howe had turned to light the lamp, but his hand shook, and Helen +absently steadied the shade until he raised the wick, and then fumbled +for his glasses, and turned to look at her. It was a relief to hear her +speak. + +"My dear," he said, his voice still tremulous, "you alarmed me terribly. +Why, how wet you are!" He had laid his hand upon her shoulder to help her +take off her wraps. "Bless my soul, child, you're drenched! Did you come +in an open carriage? But why are you here? Did you miss your train?" + +Even as he spoke, before she silently shook her head, he knew she would +have been back by noon had she missed her train. + +Max had come and sniffed suspiciously at her skirts before he recognized +her, and then he rubbed his head against her knee, and reached up to be +patted. She let her hand rest a moment on his head, and then with cold, +stiff fingers tried to help her uncle take off her cloak, and lift her +bonnet from her dripping hair. She made no effort to wipe the rain from +her face, and Dr. Howe, with his big handkerchief, tried clumsily to do +it for her. + +"What is the matter, my dear?" the rector was saying nervously. "Is +anything wrong with Mr. Ward? Have you had bad news? Tell me, my +darling; you distress me by your silence." + +Helen's throat seemed dry, and she moved her lips once or twice before +the words came. "I have come back," she answered slowly, looking with +absent eyes at Max, who was furtively licking her hand. "I have had a +letter from John. So I have come back. I am very tired." + +She looked wearily around, and swayed a little from side to side. Dr. +Howe caught her in his arms. "My dear," he said, in a frightened voice, +"my dear--you are very ill. I'll fetch Jean--I'll send for Adele!" + +Helen laid her shaking hand upon his arm. "No, no,--I am not ill. I am +only tired. I walked from Mercer, I think; I don't quite remember. Please +do not call any one, uncle." + +In spite of the wildness of her words, it was not a delirious woman who +was speaking to him, as he had thought. "Try and tell me, then, what it +all means," he said; "or stay,--first let me get you a glass of wine." + +He went shuffling along in his slippers to the dining-room, and came back +with a wineglass and the little fat decanter, with the silver collar +clinking about its neck. He filled the glass, and held it to her lips, +and then stood and looked at her as she drank, his lower lip thrust out, +and perplexity and anxiety written on every feature. + +Helen handed the glass back to him, and rose. "Thank you, uncle Archie," +she said. "I--I must go up-stairs now. I am tired." + +"But, my dear child," he remonstrated, "my dear Helen, you must tell me +what all this means, first." + +She looked at him entreatingly. "Not now,--oh, not to-night." + +"But, Helen," he said, "I can't be kept in suspense, you know." + +He tried to put his arm about her, but she pushed it a little aside and +shook her head. "I will tell you," she said, while Dr. Howe, not +understanding his repulse, stood with parted lips and frowning eyebrows, +polishing his glasses on the skirt of his dressing-gown. Helen rubbed her +hand across her forehead. + +"I am a little confused," she began, "but--there is not much to say. John +has written that I must not come back to Lockhaven. I shall never see my +husband again, uncle Archie," she added piteously. + +"Why--why--why!" cried Dr. Howe. "Bless my soul, what's all this? Mr. +Ward says my niece is not to return to her husband! Oh, come, now, come!" + +"Need we say anything more to-night?" Helen said. "I--I cannot talk." + +Nothing could have shown Dr. Howe's affection for his niece more than the +way in which he said, looking at her in silence for a moment, "My child, +you shall do just what you please. Come up-stairs now, and get to bed. It +will be a mercy if you're not laid up with a cold to-morrow. Would you +rather not see Lois? Well, then, Jean shall come and make you +comfortable." + +But Dr. Howe, shuffling over the bare stairs, and fuming to himself, +"What's all this! Nonsense, I say, perfect nonsense!" could not fail to +arouse Lois, and she called out drowsily, "Good-night, father, dear. Is +anything the matter?" + +"Nothing,--nothing!" cried the rector testily. "Go to sleep. Come, Helen, +take my arm, and let me help you." + +"Helen!" Lois exclaimed, wide awake, and springing from her bed to rush +to her cousin. "What is it?" she gasped, as she caught sight of the +group. + +"Nothing, I tell you," said the rector. "Go to bed at once; you'll take +cold." + +But Helen, seeing the distressed face, put her hands on Lois's shoulders, +and pushed her gently back into her room. "I had to come back, Lois," she +said. "I will tell you why, to-morrow. I am too tired, now. Don't speak +to me, please, dear." + +The rector had hurried down the entry to find Jean, who indeed needed no +rousing, for Sally had told her who had come. "Let me know when Miss +Helen is comfortable," he said. + +And when the old woman, awed by Helen's still, white face, told him his +niece was in bed, he came up again, holding the decanter by the throat, +and begging her to take another glass of wine. But she only turned her +head away and asked to be alone. She would not say anything more, and did +not seem to hear his assurances that it would be "all right in the +morning," and that "she must not worry." + +It was the kindest thing to her, but it was very hard for the rector to +go down to his library still in ignorance. The spell of peace had been +rudely broken, and his fire was out. He lifted Helen's bonnet, still +heavy with rain, and laid it on the cloak she had thrown across a chair, +and then stood and looked at them as though they could explain the +mystery of her return. The tall clock on the stairs struck eleven, and +outside the storm beat and complained. + +Dr. Howe was up early the next morning. He went through the silent house +before Sally had crept yawning from her room, and, throwing open the +doors at each end of the hall, let a burst of sunshine and fresh wind +into the darkness and stillness. Then he went out, and began to walk up +and down the porch as a sort of outlet to his impatience. Over and over +he said, "What can it be?" Indeed, Dr. Howe had asked himself that +question even in his dreams. "I hope there's no woman at the bottom +of it," he thought. "But no; Ward's a fool, but he is a good man." + +He stopped once, to lift a trailing vine and twist it about a support. +The rain had done great damage in the night: the locust blossoms had been +torn from the trees, and the lawn was white with them; the soft, wet +petals of the climbing roses were scattered upon the path by the side of +the house; and a long branch of honeysuckle, wrenched from its trellis, +was prone upon the porch. These small interests quieted the rector, and +he was able soon to reason himself into the belief that his niece's +return was a trifling affair, perhaps a little uncomfortable, and +certainly silly, but he would soon make it all right; so that when he saw +her coming slowly down-stairs, with Lois creeping after her, almost +afraid to speak, he was able to greet her very tranquilly. + +"Are you rested, my child? After breakfast, we'll have a good talk, and +everything shall be straightened out." + +Breakfast was a dreary affair. Helen's abstraction was too profound for +her to make even the pretense of eating. Once or twice, when Lois's voice +pierced through the clouds and reached her heart, she looked up, and +tried to reply. But they were all glad when it was over, and the rector +put his arm gently over his niece's shoulders, and drew her into the +library. + +"If any one comes, Lois," he said, "you had better just say Helen changed +her mind about going yesterday, and has come back for a few days." + +"No," interrupted Helen slowly. "You had better say what is the truth, +Lois. I have come back to Ashurst to stay." + +"Now, my dear," remonstrated the rector when they were in the library, +and he had shut the door, "that is really very unwise. These little +affairs, little misunderstandings, are soon cleared up, and they are even +forgotten by the people most interested in them. But outsiders never +forget. So it is very unwise to speak of them." + +Helen had seated herself on the other side of his writing-table, brushing +away the litter of papers and unanswered letters, so that she could lean +her elbow on it, and now she looked steadily across at him. + +"Uncle," she said, calmly "you do not know. There is no misunderstanding. +It is just what I told you last night: he thinks it best that I should +leave him indefinitely. I know that it is forever. Yes, it seems to him +best. And I am sure, feeling as he does, he is right. Yes, John is +right." + +Dr. Howe threw himself back in his revolving chair, and spun half-way +round. "Helen," he said, "this is folly; you must talk like a sensible +woman. You know you cannot leave your husband. I suppose you and Ward, +like all the rest of the world that is married, have had some falling +out; and now, being young, you think your lives are over. Nonsense! +Bless my soul, child, your aunt and I had dozens of them, and all as +silly as this, I'll be bound. But I'm sure we did not take the public +into our confidence by declaring that we would live apart. I should have +given you credit for more sense, indeed I should." + +Helen did not notice the reprimand. + +"Now tell me all about it," he continued. "You know you can trust me, and +I'll write your husband a letter which will make things clear." + +Helen shook her head wearily. "You will not understand. Nothing can be +done; it is as fixed as--death. We can neither of us alter it and be +ourselves. Oh, I have tried and tried to see some way out of it, until it +seems as if my soul were tired." + +"I did not intend to be severe, my child," the rector said, with +remorseful gentleness, "but in one way it is a more serious thing than +you realize. I don't mean this foolishness of a separation; that will all +be straightened out in a day or two. But we do not want it gossiped +about, and your being here at all, after having started home, looks +strange; and of course, if you say anything about having had a--a falling +out with Ward, it will make it ten times worse. But you haven't told me +what it is?" + +"Yes, I'll tell you," she answered, "and then perhaps you will see that +it is useless to talk about it. I must just take up the burden of life as +well as I can." + +"Go on," said the rector. + +"John has been much distressed lately," Helen began, looking down at her +hands, clasping each other until the skin was white across the knuckles, +"because I have not believed in eternal punishment. He has felt that my +eternal happiness depended upon holding such a belief." Dr. Howe looked +incredulous. "Some weeks ago, one of his elders came to him and told him +I was spreading heresy in the church, and damning my own soul and the +souls of others who might come to believe as I did,--you know I told Mrs. +Davis that her husband had not gone to hell,--and he reproached John for +neglecting me and his church too; for John, to spare me, had not preached +as he used to, on eternal punishment. It almost killed him, uncle," she +said, and her voice, which had given no hint of tears since her return, +grew unsteady. "Oh, he has suffered so! and he has felt that it was his +fault, a failure in his love, that I did not believe what he holds to be +true." + +"Heavens!" cried the rector explosively, "heresy? Is this the nineteenth +century?" + +"Since I have been away," Helen went on, without noticing the +interruption, "they have insisted that I should be sessioned,--dealt +with, they call it. John won't let me come back to that; but if that were +his only reason, we could move away from Lockhaven. He has a nobler +reason: he feels that this unbelief of mine will bring eternal misery to +my soul, and he would convert me by any means. He has tried all that he +knows (for oh, we have discussed it endlessly, uncle Archie!),--argument, +prayer, love, tenderness, and now--sorrow." + +The rector was sitting very straight in his chair, his plump hands +gripping the arms of it, and his lips compressed with anger, while he +struggled for patience to hear this preposterous story through. + +"He makes me suffer," Helen continued, "that I may be saved. And indeed I +don't see how he can do anything else. If a man believes his wife will be +damned for all eternity unless she accepts certain doctrines, I should +think he would move heaven and earth to make her accept them. And John +does believe that. In denying reprobation, I deny revelation, he says, +and also the Atonement, upon which salvation depends. So now you see +why he says I shall not come back to him until I have found the truth." + +Then Dr. Howe burst into a torrent of indignant remonstrance. A clergyman +send his wife from him because she does not believe some dogma! Were we +back in the dark ages? It was too monstrously absurd! If the idiots he +preached to forced him to do it, let him leave them; let him come to +Ashurst. The rector would build him a meeting-house, and he could preach +his abominable doctrine to anybody who was fool enough to go and hear +him. + +Dr. Howe was walking hastily up and down the room, gesticulating as he +talked. Helen's patient eyes followed him. Again and again she tried to +point out to him her husband's intense sincerity, and the necessity which +his convictions forced upon him. But the rector refused to think Mr. +Ward's attitude worthy of serious consideration. "The man is insane!" +he cried. "Send his wife away from him to force her into a certain +belief? Madness,--I tell you, madness!" + +"I cannot hear you speak so of my husband," Helen said very quietly, but +it caused Dr. Howe to conceal his wrath. + +"He'll think differently in a day or two," he said. "This nonsense won't +last." + +Then Helen, having exhausted all her arguments to show that John was +immovable, said, "Let me read you what he says himself; then you will +understand, perhaps, how real it all is to him, and how he cannot help +it." + +"Bah!" cried Dr. Howe, and certainly it was trying to have Helen attempt +to excuse such folly. "I've no patience with--There, there! I didn't +mean to lose my temper, but bless my soul, this is the worst thing I ever +knew. See here, Helen, if the man is so determined, you'll have to change +your views, or go back to your old views, I mean,--I don't know what you +do believe,--that's all there is about it." + +Helen was unfolding John's letter, and she looked up at her uncle with a +fleeting smile. "Change my views so that I can go back? Do you think that +would satisfy John? Do you think I could? Why, uncle Archie, do you +believe in eternal damnation? I know you pray to be delivered from it in +the Litany, but do you believe in it?" + +"That has nothing to do with the question, Helen," he answered, frowning, +"and of course I believe that the consequences of sin are eternal." + +"You know that is not what the prayer means," she insisted; "you have +to put your private interpretation upon it. Well, it is my private +interpretation which John thinks is sin, and sin which will receive what +it denies." + +"Well, you must believe it, then," the rector said, striking his fist on +the arm of his chair; "it is the wife's place to yield; and while I +acknowledge it is all folly, you must give in." + +"You mean," she said, "that I must say I believe it. Can I change a +belief? You know I cannot, uncle Archie. And when you hear what John +says, you will see I must be true, no matter where truth leads me." + +Helen knew every word of that letter by heart. She had read it while she +drove towards the depot, and when she dismissed the carriage it was with +a vague idea of flying to Lockhaven, and brushing all this cobweb of +unreason away, and claiming her right to take her place at her husband's +side. But as she sat in the station, waiting, every sentence of the +letter began to burn into her heart, and she slowly realized that she +could not go back. The long day passed, and the people, coming and going, +looked curiously at her; one kindly woman, seeing the agony in her white +face, came up and asked her if she were ill, and could she help her? +Helen stared at her like a person in a dream, and shook her head. Then, +in a numb sort of way, she began to understand that she must go back to +Ashurst. She did not notice that it had begun to rain, or think of a +carriage, but plodded, half blind and dazed, over the country road to her +old home, sometimes sitting down, not so much to rest as to take the +letter from its envelope again and read it. + +She looked at it now, with a sudden gasp of pain; it was as though a +dagger had been turned in a wound. It seemed too sacred to read to Dr. +Howe, but it was just to John that it should be heard, even if only +partly understood; and it was also just to her--for Helen had one of +those healthy souls which could be just to itself. With the letter had +come a clear and logical statement of the doctrine of reprobation, +together with the arguments and reasons for holding it; besides this, +there was a list of books which he meant to send her. All these she +handed to her uncle. + +"I will not read you all he writes," she said, "but even a little will +show you the hopelessness of thinking I can ever go back to him. He tells +me first of a meeting of his Session, where the elders told him they +wished to have me summoned before them, and of another visit from Mr. +Dean, of whom I spoke to you, insisting that John had been faithless in +his duty to his church and me. 'I could only listen,' he writes, 'in +assenting anguish, when he charged me with having been careless of your +spiritual life; and when he said that the sin of your unbelief had crept +from soul to soul, like an insidious and fatal disease unseen by the eyes +of the church, until spiritual death, striking first one and then +another, roused us to our danger. How can I write that word "us," as +though I arrayed myself with them against you, dearest! Yet it is not +you, but this fatal unbelief! They charged me, these elders, whose place +it is to guard the spiritual life of the church, with having preached +peace to them, when there was no peace, and leaving unspoken the words of +warning that eternal death awaits unrepented sin. They told me Davis had +died in his sin, not having had the fear of hell before his eyes to +convert his soul. And, Helen, I know it is all true! When they insisted +that you, like any other member of the church, should be brought before +the Session, that they might reason with you, and by the blessing of God +convert your soul to a saving knowledge of the truth, or at least bind +you to silence for the sake of others, I would not listen. Here I felt my +right was greater than theirs, for you are like my own soul. I told them +I would not permit it; I knew it would but drive you further from grace. +I cannot think I sinned in this, though I apparently neglect a means of +salvation for you; but I could not subject you to that,--I could not put +your soul into their hands. I distrust myself (I have need, having loved +earthly happiness more than your immortal peace, and called it wisdom), +yet I think I am right in this. God grant that the means of grace which I +choose instead, which will crucify my own heart, may, by his blessing, +save your soul. And I have faith to believe it will. The promises of God +fail not. + +"'Oh, Helen, if I loved you less! Sometimes, in these two weeks, while +this purpose has been growing up in my mind, I have shrunk back, and +cried that I could not drink of the cup, and in the depth of human +weakness I have felt, if I loved her less, I could not do what I have to +do, and so the pain would be spared. But love is too mighty for me. I +shall save you! When I think of the months since we were married, which +I have kept unruffled by a single entreaty that you would turn from +darkness into light, my eyes are blasted by the sight of my own sin; +despair and death lay hold upon me. But He has had mercy upon me. He has +shown me one way in which you shall be saved, and by his strength I am +not disobedient to the heavenly vision. Reason and argument have not +shown you the light. Joy and peace have not led you to it. There is one +other path, beloved, which I have faith to believe shall not fail. It is +sorrow. Sorrow can bring the truth home to you as no other thing will. +The relentless pressure of grief will force you to seek for light. It +will admit of no evasion; it will receive no subtilty; it will bring you +face to face with the eternal verities; it will save your soul. And what +sorrow, Helen, can come to you such as making me suffer? And is there a +pang which can tear my soul in this world like absence from my beloved? I +trample my own happiness under my feet. Too long I have been weak, too +long I have loved you with but half my nature; now I am strong. Therefore +I say, before God, for your soul's sake, you shall not see my face until +you have found the truth. This pain, which will be to me but the just +punishment for my sin, will be to you like some sharp and bitter medicine +which shall heal you of what would otherwise bring eternal death. Even as +I write I am filled with strength from God to save you. For God has shown +me the way. And it shall be soon,--I know it shall be soon. The Lord's +hand is not shortened that it cannot save. He has revealed to me the one +last way of showing you the truth, and He will lighten your eyes. Yet, +oh, my love, my wife, help me to be strong for you,--my Helen, help me in +these days or weeks of waiting. + +"'There is one mercy vouchsafed to me who am all unworthy of the least +favor: it is the knowledge of your understanding it all,--the bitter +distress, the absolute conviction, and the necessity which follows it. +You see what the temptation was to fly with you to some spot where your +unbelief could not injure any one, and there work and pray for your +salvation; leaving these souls, which my neglect of you and so of them, +has allowed to drift deep into sin. You will understand that, believing +(oh, knowing, Helen, knowing) that salvation depends upon a right +conception of truth, I have no choice but to force you by any means to +save your soul. This knowledge makes me strong. So I am set, with +strength which you yourself give me, to inflict this suffering upon you. +Take this absence and use its bitterness to sting you to search for +truth. Take its anguish to God. Pray for light, pray for the Spirit of +God. And when light comes--Oh, love, the thought of that joy seems too +great to bear except before the throne of God! I shall not write again; +you will meet this grief in the solitude of your own soul, where even I +dare not come to break the silence which may be the voice of God. Write +me any questionings, that I may help those first faint stirrings of the +Holy Spirit, but unless questionings come I shall be silent.'" + +Helen had not read all of this aloud, and there was yet more, on which +she looked a moment before she folded the letter. The closing words were +full of a human tenderness too divine and holy for any heart but her own; +a faint smile crept about her lips for a moment, as she leaned out of her +distress to rest upon her husband's love, and then she woke again to the +present. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +But the rector was not softened by John's letter; there was a curl of +contempt upon his lip which colored his words, though with Helen's quiet +eyes upon him he forced himself to speak calmly. + +"You see he expects you to return. This idea of yours, of a separation, +is nonsense. I told you so in the first place. Now the only thing to do +is to go to Lockhaven, and just say that your convictions are immovable +(if they are, though it would be wiser to make a concession, Helen), so +there is no use in experimenting in this absurd way. Absurd? Why +it is--it is"-- + +Dr. Howe's face was crimson, and he could find no epithet strong enough +to use. + +"Do you suppose I have not told John that I could not change?" Helen said +sadly, ignoring the suggestion of a concession; "and to go back, uncle +Archie,--you don't know John! He thinks I will come back,--you are right +there,--but only because he thinks this plan of his is an inspiration +from God, and will lead me to believe as he wishes. It will not, and you +know it. But John would feel that he was doubting God to let me come, if +the promise were unfulfilled. So I shall never return. Oh, must we +discuss it? It is fixed; it can never be changed. If only it could be +understood at once! There is no hope." + +Dr. Howe rose, and walked about the room a moment, breathing hard, and +swallowing once or twice, as though to choke some hot words. Then he sat +down, and began to argue. + +First, he tried to prove to Helen that there was a hell, but +unconsciously he veered to assertions that it made no difference, anyhow; +that of course the doctrine of eternal damnation was preposterous, and +that she must persuade Mr. Ward to drop the subject. He reasoned and +threatened, then he expostulated and implored, ending all with, "You must +go back, and at once." + +Helen had been silent, but when he finished she said, so absently that he +knew she had not been listening, "Shall I explain why I have come back, +or would you prefer to do it?" + +"Explain?" cried the rector. "What are you thinking of? Of course not! It +is not to be known." + +"It must be known, I think," Helen answered calmly. "I am here, and I +shall stay here, so it seems to me better to disarm gossip by telling the +truth at once." + +Dr. Howe sunk back in his chair, and looked at his niece in speechless +annoyance. + +"You had better let me tell them, uncle Archie," she said simply; "it +will be less unpleasant for you." + +Then he regained his voice: "It is not to be told, Helen. I shall not +allow it. If you have no sense, I'll take the matter into my own hands. +If people choose to gossip about your being here a few days or a +week,--it may take a week for this folly to blow over,--why, they can, +that's all. I will not--you hear me, Helen?--I will not enter into any +absurd explanations." + +Helen lifted her heavy eyes, and looked at him a moment, and then she +said, "Aunt Deely?" + +Dr. Howe suffered a sudden collapse. "Well, I--ah--well, perhaps Adele. I +suppose Adele must know it. I don't know but what her common sense may be +good for you, my dear. Yes, I'll tell Adele." + +"I should like to have Lois understand it," Helen said. + +"Well," Dr. Howe conceded, "yes--I suppose you might mention it to +Lois--because"-- + +"I don't want her to think anything wrong of John," Helen explained. + +Dr. Howe stared at her blankly, but did not burst into wrathful +exclamations; he was actually exhausted in mind and body; this +controversy had been too much for him. But that remark of Helen's ended +it. She went slowly up-stairs, clinging to the balustrade as though she +needed some support, yet she had not spoken of being tired. She passed +Lois, sitting on the window-seat which ran across the broad landing, but +did not seem to see her, and there was something in her cousin's face +which kept the young girl dumb. + +Dr. Howe did not go to Dale house until the next day; he vaguely hoped +something would turn up before his sister discovered Helen's presence at +the rectory, which would make this humiliating confession unnecessary. +But nothing happened except the arrival of a letter from John Ward to Dr. +Howe, explaining his convictions and reiterating his determination. + +Helen kept in her own room that day and the next, so Gifford Woodhouse, +who came to the rectory, did not guess her presence, since Lois had been +admonished to be silent concerning it, and no one else chanced to call. +Of course the servants knew. Dr. Howe ground his teeth as he reflected +that Sally would probably tattle the whole thing; the more so, if she +were charged not to mention it. Yet he was rather relieved, when he went +to tell his sister, to find that she knew the main fact already. + +"Helen's back again!" she cried as soon as she saw him. + +He found her in the big cool dining-room, cutting out pieces of paper for +the tops of her pots of strawberry jam, and fringing them delicately with +a little pair of shining scissors. + +"Well, Archibald," she said, looking at him over her glasses, as he +sat down at the other end of the polished table, "this is pretty hot, +isn't it? I'll have Betty bring you a sangaree; there's a fan on the +window-sill, if you want it; I never have patience to use a fan. Henry's +in his library. I declare, it is as cold as a vault in that room; but +you'd better not go down. We Howes are too rheumatic for such damp +places." + +Betty brought the sangaree, and the rector diverted himself while he put +off the evil moment of explanation, by clinking the ice against the +glass. + +"Betty was down in the village last night," Mrs. Dale was saying, "and +she saw your Sally, and she told her Helen did not get off on Monday. +What in the world does that mean? I do dislike to see the child so +changeable. I suppose she wants to wait and go with Lois, after all? But +why didn't she make up her mind before she started? And all this talk +about getting back to her husband! Oh, these young wives,--they don't +mind leaving their husbands!" + +"Yes, she's back," said the rector gloomily. + +"What do you mean?" Mrs. Dale asked quickly, for his tone did not escape +her. + +Then he told her the whole story. There was a moment's silence when he +had finished. At last Mrs. Dale said violently, "Well!" and again, +"Well!" After that she rose, and brushing the clippings of paper from her +black silk apron, she said, "We will go and talk this over in the parlor, +Archibald." + +The rector followed her, miserably. Though he had a clear conscience, in +that he had treated the ridiculous affair with the utmost severity, and +had done all he could to make Helen return to her husband, he yet +trembled as he thought how his sister would reproach him. ("Though I +can't help it!" he said to himself. "Heaven knows I used every argument +short of force. I couldn't compel a reluctant wife to return to an +unwilling husband, especially when she thinks the husband is all right.") +"You see, she approves of Ward," he groaned. + +Mrs. Dale sat down, but the rector walked nervously about, jingling some +keys in his pocket. + +"It is very distressing," he said. + +"Distressing?" cried Mrs. Dale. "It is worse than distressing. It is +disgraceful, that's what it is,--disgraceful! What will Deborah Woodhouse +say, and the Draytons? I tell you, Archibald, it must be put a stop to, +at once!" + +"That is very easy to say," began Dr. Howe. + +"It is very easy to do, if there's a grain of sense in your family. Just +send your niece"-- + +"She's your niece, too, Adele," he interrupted. + +But Mrs. Dale did not pause--"back to her husband. You ought to have +taken her yesterday morning. It is probably all over Ashurst by this +time!" + +"But you forget," objected Dr. Howe, "he won't let her come; you can't +change his views by saying Helen must go back." + +"But what does it matter to her what his views are?" said Mrs. Dale. + +"It matters to him what her views are," answered Dr. Howe despondently. +Somehow, since he had begun to talk to his sister, he had grown almost as +hopeless as Helen. + +"Then Helen must change her views," Mrs. Dale said promptly. "I have no +patience with women who set up their own Ebenezers. A woman should be in +subjection to her own husband, I say,--and so does St. Paul. In my young +days we were taught to love, honor, and obey. Helen needs to be reminded +of her duty, and I'll see that she is." + +"Well, I wish you success," said the rector grimly. + +"And I'll have it!" Mrs. Dale retorted. + +"But you don't take into consideration," Dr. Howe said, "that Helen will +not say one thing when she thinks another. How can you change a person's +belief? I have been all over it, Adele. It is perfectly useless!" + +The brother and sister looked at each other a moment silently; then Mrs. +Dale said, "Well, if you ask my advice"-- + +"I didn't; there's no use. Helen will be her own adviser, you can depend +upon that. I only just wanted you to know the facts. No outsider can +direct the affairs of a man and woman who are entirely determined." + +"I am not an outsider," returned Mrs. Dale, "though you can call yourself +one, if you choose. And I am going to give you advice, and I hope you'll +be sensible enough to take it. You have just got to go and see this Mr. +Ward, and tell him he must take Helen back; tell him we cannot have such +things in our family. A wife separated from her husband,--why, good +gracious, just think of it, Archibald!" + +"Do you suppose I haven't thought of it?" demanded the rector. + +"And Helen must go," continued Mrs. Dale, "belief or no belief." + +Her brother shook his head, and sighed. + +"I don't believe it will do any good for me to see him, but of course +I shall go to Lockhaven unless I get a favorable answer to my letter. +I wrote him yesterday. But do you imagine that any talk of our feelings +is going to move a man like Ward? His will is like iron. I saw that in +his letter to Helen. I suppose it pains him to do this. I suppose he does +suffer, in a way. But if he can contemplate her distress unmoved, do you +think anything I can urge will change him? He'll wait for her conversion, +if it takes her whole life." + +"But Helen has been confirmed," said Mrs. Dale, in a bewildered way; +"what more does he want?" + +"He wants her to be converted, I tell you," cried her brother, "and he's +bound to bring it about! He uses the illustration of giving medicine to a +sick child to insure its recovery, no matter at what cost of pain to the +child or the giver." + +"But isn't it the same thing?" persisted Mrs. Dale: +"converted--confirmed? We don't use such expressions in the Church, +but it is the same thing." + +"'Experience a change of heart,' Ward says in his letter; 'be convicted +of the sin of unbelief'!" the rector said contemptuously, and ignoring +his sister's question; "but conversion with him merely means a belief in +hell, so far as I can make out." + +"Well, of course Helen is all wrong not to believe in hell," said Mrs. +Dale promptly; "the Prayer-Book teaches it, and she must. I'll tell her +so. All you have to do is to see this Mr. Ward and tell him she will; and +just explain to him that she has been confirmed,--we don't use those +Methodistical expressions in the Church. Perhaps the sect he belongs to +does, but one always thinks of them as rather belonging to the lower +classes, you know. I suppose we ought not to expect anything else from +such a person,--who ever heard of his people? I always said the marriage +would turn out badly," she added triumphantly. "You remember, I told you +so?" + +The rector sighed. After all, Mrs. Dale did not help him. It was useless +to try to impress her with the theological side of the matter, as she +only returned with fresh vigor to the charge that it was a disgrace to +the family. So he rose to go, saying, "Well, I'll wait for Ward's letter, +and if he persists in this insanity I'll start for Lockhaven. You might +see Helen, and see what you can do." + +As Mrs. Dale began in her positive way to say how he ought to talk to +"this man," Mr. Dale came in. + +"I thought I heard your voice," he said to his brother-in-law, "and I +came up"--he looked deprecatingly at his wife--"to ask you to step down +and have a pipe. I want to speak to you about Denner's books." + +But before Dr. Howe could answer, Mrs. Dale poured forth all the +troublesome and disgraceful story of the "separated husband and wife." +Mr. Dale listened intently; once he flourished his red handkerchief +across his eyes as he blew his nose. When he did this, he scattered some +loose tobacco about, and Mrs. Dale stopped to reprimand him. "I tell +you," she ended emphatically, "it is this new-fangled talk of woman's +rights that has done all this. What need has Helen of opinions of her +own? A woman ought to be guided by her husband in everything!" + +"You see it is pretty bad, Henry," said the rector. + +"It is,--it is," said the older man, his mild eyes glistening; "but oh, +Archibald, how he loves her!" + +"Loves her?" cried the other two together. + +"Yes," continued Mr. Dale slowly; "one feels as if we ought not even to +discuss it, for we are scarcely capable of understanding it. The place +whereon we stand is holy ground." + +"Henry," said his wife, "there's no fool like an old fool. You don't +know what you are talking about." + +But when Dr. Howe, softening a little since Mr. Dale did not abuse John +Ward, said he must tell Helen that,--it would please her,--Mrs. Dale +begged him to do nothing of the sort. + +"It would be just like her to consider the whole affair a unique mode of +expressing affection. We had better try to show her it is a disgrace to +the family. Love, indeed! Well, I don't understand love like that!" + +"No," Mr. Dale responded, "no, I suppose not. But, my dear, don't you +wish you did?" + +When Dr. Howe told Helen of his plan of going to Lockhaven, she tried +to show him that it was useless; but as she saw his determination, she +ceased to oppose him. She would have spared John if she could (and she +knew how impossible it was that the rector could move her husband), yet +she felt that her family had a right to insist upon a personal +explanation, and to make an effort, however futile, to induce her husband +to take her home. In the mean time, they waited for an answer to the +rector's letter. Helen had written, but she knew no answer would come to +her. She understood too well that sweet and gentle nature, which yielded +readily in small things, and was possessed of invincible determination in +crises, to hope that John could change. Yet she had written; she had +shared her hopelessness as well as her grief with him, when she told him +how impossible it was for her to think as he did. She showed how fast and +far she had drifted into darkness and unbelief since she had left him, +yet she held out no hope that a return to him could throw any light into +those eternal shadows. "I understand it all," she had written, stopping +to comfort him even while she told him how futile was his pain and hers, +"and oh, how you must suffer, my darling, but it cannot be helped unless +you free yourself from your convictions. Perhaps that will come some +time; until then, you can only be true to yourself. But I understand it +all,--I know." + +Those days of waiting were hard to bear. The distance between her uncle +and herself had suddenly widened; and she could not see that beneath his +irritation there was really a very genuine sympathy. + +She had vaguely hoped that Lois would comfort her, for one turns +instinctively in grief to the nearest loving thing, and she knew her +cousin loved her. Yet Lois had not been able to understand, and Helen +would hear no words of sympathy which were not as much for John as for +herself. + +It was not until Thursday that she had told Lois why she had come back. +They were in their pleasant sitting-room, Lois walking restlessly about, +with such puzzled expectation on her face that its white sadness was +almost banished. Helen sat with her hands clasped loosely in her lap, and +leaning her head against the window. Below, there was the bloom and glory +of the garden, butterflies darted through the sunshine, and the air was +full of the honeyed hum of the bees. But the silence of the room seemed +only a breathless anxiety, which forbade rest of mind or body; and so +Helen had roused herself, and tried to tell her cousin what it all meant; +but even as she talked she felt Lois's unspoken condemnation of her +husband, and her voice hardened, and she continued with such apparent +indifference Lois was entirely deceived. "So you see," she ended, "I +cannot go back to Lockhaven." + +Lois, walking back and forth, as impatient as her father might have been, +listened, her eyes first filling with tears, and then flashing angrily. +She threw herself on her knees beside Helen, as she finished, and put her +arms about her cousin's waist, kissing her listless hands in a passion of +sympathy. "Oh, my dear!" she cried, her cheeks wet with tears, "how +dreadful--how horrible! Oh, Helen, darling, my poor darling!" + +Lois did not stop to consider the theological side of the matter, which +was a relief to Helen. She tried to quiet the young girl's distress, +holding her bright head against her breast, and soothing her with gentle +words. + +"If I were you," Lois said at last, "I would go back to Lockhaven; I +would _go_, if it had to be in disguise!"-- + +"Not if you loved John," Helen answered. + +"How can you bear it?" Lois whispered, looking up into the calm face with +a sort of awe which checked her tears. "It is so cruel, Helen, you cannot +forgive him." + +"There is nothing to forgive; I hoped you would understand that, Lois. +John cannot do anything else, don't you see? Why, I would not love him as +I do, if, having such convictions, he was not true to them. He must be +true before anything else." + +Lois was sitting on the floor in front of her, clasping her knees with +her arms, and rocking back and forth. "Well," she cried hotly, "I don't +understand anything about his convictions, but I tell you what it is, +Helen, I do understand how hard it is for you! And I can never forgive +him, if you can. It is all very well to think about truth, but it seems +to me he ought to think about you." + +"But don't you see," Helen explained, still vaguely hoping that Lois +would understand, "he thinks only of me? Why, Lois, it is all for me." + +Lois's face was flushed with excitement. "I don't care!" she cried, "it +is cruel--cruel--cruel!" + +Helen looked at her steadily a moment, and then she said patiently, "The +motive is what makes cruelty, Lois. And can't you see that it is only +because of his love that he does this? If he loved me less, he could not +do it." + +"Heavens!" Lois exclaimed, springing to her feet, "I wish he loved you +less, then! No, there is no use saying things like that, Helen; he is +narrow and bigoted,--he is a cruel fanatic." She did not see that Helen +had half risen from her chair, and was watching her with gleaming eyes. +"He actually prides himself on being able to make you suffer,--you read +me that yourself out of his letter. He's a bad man, and I'm glad you've +done with him"-- + +She would have said more, but Helen had followed her swiftly across the +room, and grasping her arm until the girl cried out with pain, she put +her hand over those relentless young lips. "Hush!" she cried, in a +terrible voice; "do not dare to speak so to me! If I hear such words +again, I shall leave this house. You may not be able to see my husband's +nobleness, but at least you can be silent." + +Lois pushed her hand away, and stared at her in amazement. "I didn't mean +to offend you," she stammered. "I only meant that he"-- + +"Do not speak of him!" Helen said passionately, her breath still quick, +and her face white to the lips. "I do not wish to hear what you meant! +Oh, Lois, Lois, I thought that you"--She turned away, and pressed +her hands hard on her eyes a moment; then she said, "I understand--I +know--your affection for me prompted it--but I cannot listen, Lois, if +you have such feelings about him. I will take your sympathy for granted +after this. I do not want to talk about it again." + +Lois went silently out of the room, her heart overflowing with love for +her cousin, and added rage at the man who had come between them. She +found Gifford walking about in the hall down-stairs, and, forgetful of +her father's injunction, she went quickly up to him, trembling with +excitement, and half sobbing. + +"Giff--oh, Giff--that man, that John Ward, has sent Helen back! She's +here--she can't go home!" + +Gifford was too astounded to speak. + +"Yes," Lois cried, clinging to his arm, her eyes overflowing, "he is a +wicked man--he is cruel--and she thinks I am, Giff, just because I said +he was!" + +Lois's agitation drove him into his most deliberate speech. + +"What do you mean? I do not understand." + +"Of course not! Nobody could think of anything so awful. Come into the +library, and I'll tell you. Father does not want it spoken of, Gifford, +but since you know she's here, I might as well explain." + +The room was deserted, except for Max, who was stretched on the cool +hearthstones; it was full of dusky shadows lurking in the wainscoted +corners; the outside shutters were bowed, and only two thin streaks of +sunshine traveled in from the warm sweet garden outside. Some roses in a +bowl on the table filled the air with fragrance. + +Lois hurried nervously through the story, breaking into angry grief that +John Ward should have made Helen angry at her. For she had told Gifford +how she had tried to console her cousin. + +"It makes me hate John Ward more than ever!" she said, striking her hands +passionately together. "Oh, Giff, isn't it awful?" + +"Poor fellow!" said the young man, deeply moved, "poor Ward! It is worse +for him than it is for Helen." + +"Oh, how can you say so?" she cried; "but I'm sure I hope it is!" + +"He won't weaken," Gifford went on slowly. "He will stand like a rock for +what he believes is right, and he will be more apt to believe it is right +if it nearly kills him." + +"I wish it would! And Helen, poor darling, thinks he loves her. What sort +of love does he call this?" + +"Oh, it is love," Gifford answered; "and I tell you, Lois, it is a height +of love that is ideal,--it is the measure of Ward's soul." They were both +so much in earnest, there was not the slightest self-consciousness in +this talk of love, even though Gifford added, "I never knew a man capable +of such devotion, and there are few women like Helen, who could inspire +it." + +"But, Giff," Lois said, not caring to discuss John Ward's character, "did +you suppose anybody could be so narrow? Think how bigoted he is! And +nobody believes in hell now as he does." + +"I don't know about that, Lois," Gifford responded slowly. "Lots of +people do, only they don't live up to their belief. If the people who say +they believe in hell were in dead earnest, the world would have been +converted long ago." + +"He is a wicked man!" Lois cried inconsequently. + +But Gifford shook his head. "No, he is not. And more than that, Lois, you +ought to consider that this belief of Ward's, if it is crude, is the husk +which has kept safe the germ of truth,--the consequences of sin are +eternal. There is no escape from character." + +"Oh, yes," she answered, "but that is not theology, you know: we don't +put God into that." + +"Heaven help us if we do not!" the young man said reverently. "It is +all God, Lois; perhaps not God as John Ward thinks of Him, a sort of +magnified man, for whom he has to arrange a scheme of salvation, a kind +of an apology for the Deity, but the power and the desire for good in +ourselves. That seems to me to be God. Sometimes I feel as though all +our lives were a thought of the Eternal, which would have as clear an +expression as we would let it." + +Lois had not followed his words, and said impatiently as he finished, +"Well, anyhow, he is cruel, and Helen should not have felt as she did +when I said so." + +Gifford hesitated. "She could not help it. How could she let you say it?" + +"What!" cried Lois, "you think he's not cruel?" + +"His will is not cruel," Gifford answered, "but I meant--I meant--she +couldn't let you speak as you did of John Ward, to his wife." + +Lois flung her head back. "You think I said too much?" she asked. "You +don't half sympathize with her, Gifford. I didn't think you could be so +hard." + +"I mean it was not quite kind in you," he said slowly. + +"I suppose you think it wasn't right?" + +"No, Lois, it was not right," he answered, with a troubled face. + +"Well, Gifford," she said, her voice trembling a little, "I'm sorry. But +it seems I never do do anything right. You--you see nothing but faults. +Oh, they're there!" she cried desperately. "Nobody knows that better than +I do; but I never thought any one would say that I did not love Helen"-- + +"I didn't say so, Lois," the young man interrupted eagerly; "only I felt +as though it wasn't fair for me to think you did not do just right, and +not tell you so." + +"Oh, of course," Lois said lightly, "but I don't think we are so very +friendly that I can claim such consideration. You are always finding +fault--and--and about Helen you misunderstand; we can say anything to +each other. I am afraid I exaggerated her annoyance. She knew what I +meant,--she said she did; she--she agreed with me, I've not a doubt!" + +"I always seem to blunder," Gifford said, his face stinging from the cut +about friendship. "I never seem to know how to tell the truth without +giving offense--but--but, Lois, you know I think you are the best woman +in the world." + +"You have a pretty poor idea of women, then," she responded, a lump in +her throat making her voice unsteady, "but I'm sure I don't care what you +think. I have a right to say what I want to Helen." + +She ran out of the room, for she would not let Gifford see her cry. "I +don't care what he thinks!" she said, as she fled panting into the attic, +and bolted the door as though she feared he would follow her. But then +she began to remember that he had said she was the best woman in the +world, and to her dismay she found herself smiling a little. "What a +wretch I am!" she said sternly. "Mr. Denner is dead, and Helen is in such +distress, and--and Dick Forsythe may come back! How can I be pleased at +anything?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Of course it was soon known that Helen Ward was at the rectory, but to +the Misses Woodhouse, at least, her presence was not of enough importance +to speculate or gossip about. Gifford had merely said Helen had changed +her mind about going, and would be in Ashurst a few days longer, and the +little ladies had such an absorbing interest of their own they did not +ask many questions. Miss Ruth only remarked that she wondered how she +could be satisfied to stay away from her husband so long, and Miss +Deborah replied that the young did not understand serious attachment. + +To both sisters a vague happiness had come in these last few weeks, and a +certain sense of importance. Each felt it for herself, but was unable to +realize it for the other, yet constantly encountered it with irritated +astonishment, when the desire to confide was strong. + +Once Miss Ruth, tearful with the memory of that last look from Mr. +Denner's dying eyes, tried to approach the subject delicately, but +was met with such amazing certainty on the part of Miss Deborah, and +a covert allusion to the value of the miniature, that she was silenced. +And again,--on Dr. Howe's return from Lockhaven,--Miss Deborah's +condescension in telling Miss Ruth she might accompany her to the +graveyard fell somewhat flat when she found that her sister had intended +going, and had even picked some flowers to put on Mr. Denner's grave. +However, they went together, a gentle seriousness on each face, and in +an unusual silence. Their parents were buried here, so that it was not +altogether sentiment which made them sad. + +A white, dusty road climbed the hill which overlooked the village on the +east, and on its brow, facing the sunrise, was the little group of +Ashurst's dead. + +The blossoming grass grew long and tangled here; the gray headstones +slanted a little, or had even fallen, and some of the inscriptions were +hidden by moss. The place was full of shadowy silence, only broken by the +rustle of the leaves and small bird-cries, or, from down in the valley, +the faint tinkle of a cow-bell. Cypresses stood dark against the blue +sky, swaying a little in the soft wind, and from the top of one of them +flew suddenly a brown hawk, his shadow floating from the green dusk under +the trees out over the sunny meadow below. + +The two sisters went to the graves of their father and mother first, and +laid some flowers on them, and stood a moment looking at them silently. +Their sighs were rather a reverent recognition of an old grief than real +sorrow, for it was many years ago that these two had been laid here; the +simple souls were too happy to understand the pathos of a forgotten +grief, indeed, they did not even know that they had forgotten it. + +As they turned away, Miss Ruth said in a hushed voice, "It is over +by Dr. Howe's lot, sister. You can see it under that larch." So they +went towards this one new grave, stepping softly, and stopping by some +familiar name to brush away the grass that hid the inscription, or lay +a blossom against the stone. They spoke once or twice of those who lay +there, calling them by their first names, yet with that curious lowering +of the voice which shows with what dignity death has invested what was +once familiar. + +They were silent as they laid their flowers on the fresh earth of Mr. +Denner's grave, over which the kindly grass had not yet thrown its veil; +and Miss Deborah stopped to put a single rose upon the sunken, mossy spot +where, forty years before, the little sister had been laid to rest. Both +the little ladies frankly wiped their eyes, though with no thought except +for the old friendship which had ended here. They would have turned to +go, then, but Miss Deborah laid her hand on Miss Ruth's arm. "Why, +sister," she said, "who is that by Mary Jeffrey's grave?" + +Some one was lying upon the grass, her cheek resting against the small +marble cross at the head of the grave, and one arm thrown around it. + +"It must be Helen!" answered Miss Ruth anxiously. "How imprudent!" + +They went towards the prostrate figure,--there were no divisions in the +Ashurst burying-ground,--and Miss Deborah stooped and touched her on the +shoulder, saying in a shocked voice, for Helen was shaken with sobs, +"Why, my dear child, what is the matter?" + +Helen started violently, and then sat up, brushing the tears away, and +struggling to speak calmly. "I--I did not know any one was here." + +"We were just going," Miss Ruth replied in her kind little voice, "but we +were grieved to see you troubled, my dear?" + +Miss Ruth could not help saying it in a questioning way, for, in spite +of Ashurst traditions of parental love, it could hardly be imagined that +Helen was crying for a mother she had never known. + +"You are very kind," Helen said, the tears still trembling in her eyes. +"Something did trouble me--and--and I came here." + +The sisters spoke some gentle words of this young mother, dead now for +more than twenty years, and then went softly away, full of sympathy, yet +fearing to intrude, though wondering in their kind hearts what could be +the matter. But their curiosity faded; Mr. Denner's grave was a much more +important thing than Helen's unknown grief. + +"I dare say she misses her husband?" Miss Ruth suggested. + +But Miss Deborah thought that quite improbable. "For she could go home, +you know, if that was the case." + +And here the sisters dropped the subject. + +As for Helen, she still lingered in the silent graveyard. She felt, with +the unreasoning passion of youth, that the dead gave her more comfort +than the living. Lois had scarcely dared to speak to her since that talk +in their sitting-room, and Dr. Howe's silence was like a pall over the +whole house. So she had come here to be alone, and try to fancy what her +husband and her uncle had said to each other, for Dr. Howe had refused to +enter into the details of his visit. + +His interview with her husband had only resulted in a greater bitterness +on the part of the rector. He had waited for John Ward's answer to his +letter, and its clear statement of the preacher's position, and its +assertion that his convictions were unchangeable, gave him no hope that +anything could be accomplished without a personal interview. Discussion +with a man who actually believed that this cruel and outrageous plan of +his, was appointed by God as a means to save his wife's soul, was absurd +and undignified, but it had to be. The rector sighed impatiently as he +handed her husband's letter to Helen. + +"He is lost to all sense of propriety; apparently he has no thought of +what he owes you. Well, I shall go to Lockhaven to-morrow." + +"It is all for me!" Helen said. "Oh, uncle Archie, if you would just +understand that!" + +Dr. Howe gave an explosive groan, but he only said, "Tell Lois to pack my +bag. I'll take the early train. Oh, Helen, why can't you be like other +women? Why do you have to think about beliefs? Your mother never doubted +things; why do you? Isn't it enough that older and wiser people than you +do not question the faith?" + +At the last moment he begged her to accompany him. "Together, we can +bring the man to his senses," he pleaded, and he secretly thought that +not even the hardness and heartlessness of John Ward could withstand the +sorrow in her face. But she refused to consider it. + +"Have you no message for him?" he asked. + +"No," she answered. + +"Sha'n't I tell him how you--miss him, Helen?" + +A light flashed across her face, but she said simply, "John knows," and +her uncle had to be content with that. + +Dr. Howe grew more intolerant with each mile of his journey. Every +incident touched him with a personal annoyance at the man he was going to +see. The rattling, dingy cars on the branch railroad afflicted him with +an irritated sense of being modern; the activity about the shabby station +jarred upon his remembrance of Ashurst's mellow quiet; the faces of the +men in the lumber-yards, full of aggressive good-nature, offended his +ideas of dignity and reserve. A year ago, Dr. Howe would have thought all +this very entertaining, and simple, and natural. Now, that a man who +lived in such a place, among such people, should have it in his power to +place the Howes in a conspicuous and painful position was unbearable! + +By the time he reached the parsonage, to which an officious young person +of whom he had inquired his way conducted him, he had attained a pitch of +angry excitement which drove all theological arguments out of his mind. +Alfaretta greeted him with a blank stare, and then a sudden brightening +of her face as he gave his name. + +"You're her uncle!" she cried. "How is she? and when is she comin' back? +She ain't sick?"--this with quick alarm, for Dr. Howe had not answered +her questions. + +"No, no, my good woman," he said impatiently, "certainly not. Where is +your master?" + +"The preacher's not home," the girl answered coldly. She was not used to +being called "my good woman," if she did live out. "You can wait, if you +want to;" but there, her anxiety getting the better of her resentment, +she added, "Is she comin' back soon?" + +"I'll wait," said Dr. Howe briefly, walking past her into John Ward's +study. + +"Insufferable people!" he muttered. He looked about him as he entered the +room, and the poverty of the bookshelves did not escape his keen eyes, +nor the open volume of Jonathan Edwards on the writing-table. There was +a vase beside it, which held one dried and withered rose; but it is +doubtful if the pathos of the flower which was to await Helen's return +would have softened him, even if he could have known it. He stopped and +glanced at the book, and then began to read it, holding it close to his +eyes, while, with his other hand behind him, he grasped his hat and +stick. + +He read the frequently quoted passages from Edwards, that God holds man +over hell as a man might hold a spider or some loathsome insect over the +fire, with the satisfaction one feels in detecting a proof of the vicious +nature of an enemy. "Ward is naturally cruel," he said to himself. "I've +always thought so. That speech of his about slavery showed it." + +He put down the book with an emphasis which argued ill for his opinion of +a man who could study such words, and began to pace up and down the room +like some caged animal, glancing once with a smothered exclamation at the +old leather-covered volume, which had fallen upon the floor; he even gave +it a furtive kick, as he passed. + +He was so occupied with his own thoughts, he did not see John Ward come +up the garden path and enter the parsonage, and when, a moment +afterwards, the preacher came into the room, Dr. Howe started at the +change in him. These weeks of spiritual conflict had left their mark upon +him. His eyes had a strained look which was almost terror, and his firm, +gentle lips were set in a line of silent and patient pain. Yet a certain +brightness rested upon his face, which for a moment hid its pallor. + +Through fear, and darkness, and grief, through an extraordinary +misconception and strange blindness of the soul, John Ward had come, in +his complete abnegation of himself, close to God. Since that June night, +when he met the temptation which love for his wife held out to him, he +had clung with all the passion of his life to his love for God. The whole +night, upon his knees, he besought God's mercy for Helen, and fought the +wild desire of flight the longing to take her and go away, where her +unbelief could not injure any one else, and devote his life to leading +her to light; go away from his people, whom God had committed to him, and +whom he had betrayed, leave them, stained with the sin he had permitted +to grow unchecked among them, and give his very soul to Helen, to save +her. But the temptation was conquered. When the faint, crystal brightness +of the dawn looked into his study, it saw him still kneeling, his face +hidden in his arms, but silent and at peace. God had granted his prayer, +he said to himself. He had shown him the way to save Helen. At first he +had shrunk from it, appalled, crying out, "This is death, I cannot, I +cannot!" But when, a little later, he went out into the growing glory of +the day, and, standing bareheaded, lifted his face to heaven, he said, +"I love her enough, thank God,--thank God." A holy and awful joy shone in +his eyes. "God will do it," he said, with simple conviction. "He will +save her, and my love shall be the human instrument." + +After that had come the days when John had written those imploring +letters to his wife, the last of which she had answered with such entire +decision, saying that there was no possible hope that she could ever +believe in what she called a "monstrous doctrine," and adding sorrowfully +that it was hard even to believe in God,--a personal God, and she could +be content to let doctrines go, if only that light upon the darkness of +the world could be left her. + +Then he had sent his last letter. He had written it upon his knees, his +eyes stung with terrible tears; but his hand did not falter; the letter +was sent. Then he waited for the manifestation of God in Helen's soul: +he distrusted himself and his own strength, but he never doubted God; +he never questioned that this plan for converting his wife was a direct +answer to his prayers. + +Now, when he saw Dr. Howe, he had a moment of breathless hope that her +uncle had come to tell him that Helen had found the truth. But almost +before the unreasonableness of his idea struck him, he knew from Dr. +Howe's face that the time was not yet. + +"I am glad to see you," he said, a little hurriedly; the thin hand he +extended was not quite steady. + +The rector's forehead was gathered into a heavy frown. "See here," he +answered, planting his feet wide apart, and still holding his hat and +stick behind him, "I cannot give you my hand while you are ignorant of +the spirit in which I come." + +"You come for Helen's sake," John replied. + +"Yes, sir, I do come for Helen's sake," returned Dr. Howe, "but it is +because of your conduct, because of the heartless way in which you have +treated my niece. You cannot expect me to have a friendly feeling for the +man who is cruel to her." For the moment he forgot that this was to be a +theological dispute. "Now, sir, what explanation have you to give of this +outrageous affair?" + +"Helen's soul shall be saved," John said, his voice growing firmer, but +losing none of its gentleness. + +Dr. Howe made an impatient gesture. "Helen's soul!" he cried. "Is it +possible that a sane man can seriously excuse his conduct on such a +ground? Why, it is incredible! How do you suppose the world will regard +your action?" + +"What have you or I to do with the world?" the other answered. + +"We live in it," said Dr. Howe, "and if we are wise men we will not, for +a mad whim, violate its standards of propriety. When a man turns his wife +out of his house, he must consider what meaning is attached to such an +action by the world. You blast Helen's life, sir, and her family is +necessarily involved in the same disgrace." + +John looked at him with clear, direct eyes. "I save Helen's soul, and her +family will rejoice with me when that day comes." + +"Her family," the other replied contemptuously, "are not troubled about +Helen's soul; they are quite satisfied with her spiritual condition." + +"Do they know what it is?" John asked. + +"Certainly," answered the rector, "of course. But it isn't of the +slightest consequence, anyhow. The main thing is to cover up this +unfortunate affair at once. If Helen comes back right away, I think +no one need know what has happened." + +"But there is nothing to cover up," John said simply; "there is no shame +that Helen should accept God's way of leading her to himself." + +"Lord!" exclaimed Dr. Howe, and then stopped. This would never do; if +Ward became angry, he would only grow more obstinate. + +"If you are so troubled about her unbelief," the rector said, feeling +that he was very wily, "I should think you would see the need of daily +influence. You could accomplish more if she were with you. The constant +guidance of a clergyman would be of the utmost value. I suppose you think +she is with me, but I doubt"--his lip curled a little--"if I can give her +quite the instruction you desire." + +"Oh, I had not hoped for that," John answered. "But her surroundings +will not influence Helen now. Impelled by my grief, she must search for +truth." + +Dr. Howe was too much excited to notice the reproof in John's words. +"Well, it will teach her to think; it will push her into positive +unbelief. Agnosticism!--that's what this 'search for truth' ends in +nowadays! Come, now, be reasonable, Ward; for Heaven's sake, don't be +a--a--don't be so unwise. I advise this really in your own interests. +Why, my dear fellow, you'll convert her in half the time if she is with +you. What? And don't you see that your present attitude will only drive +her further away? You are really going against your own interests." + +"Do not play the part of the Tempter," John said gently; "it ill becomes +Christ's minister to do that. Would you have me pray for guidance, and +then refuse to follow it when it comes? God will give me the strength and +courage to make her suffer that she may be saved." + +Dr. Howe stared at him for a moment. Then he said, "I--I do not need you +to teach me my duty as Christ's minister, sir; it would be more fitting +that you should concern yourself with your duty as a husband." The vein +in his forehead was swollen with wrath. "The way in which you pride +yourself upon devising the most exquisite pain for your wife is +inhuman,--it is devilish! And you drag her family into the scandal of +it, too." + +John was silent. + +Again Dr. Howe realized that he must control himself; if he got into a +passion, there would be an end of bringing about a reconciliation. + +"You made me forget myself," he said. "I didn't mean to speak of my own +feelings. It is Helen I want to talk about." Perhaps some flash of memory +brought her face before his eyes. "Sit down," he added brusquely,--"you +look tired;" and indeed the pallor of John's face was deadly. + +The rector, in his impatience, sat on the edge of his chair, one plump +fist resting on the table, and the other hand clenched on the head of +his cane. His arguments and entreaties were equally divided, but he +resolutely checked the denunciations which trembled upon his lips. John +answered him almost tenderly; his own grief was not so absorbing that +he could be indifferent to the danger of a man who set the opinion of the +world before the solemn obligations of his profession. Carefully, and +fully, and very quietly, he explained his position in regard to his +parish; but when Dr. Howe urged that Helen might observe all proper +forms, and yet keep silence on what was, after all, a most immaterial +difference, John roused to sudden passion. Here was an old temptation. + +"God forbid!" he said. "Observe forms, and let her hope of spiritual life +die? No, no,--not that. Form without soul is dead. You must have seen +that too often." + +"Well, I'll tell you what to do," said the rector, in his eagerness +pulling his chair closer to John's, and resting his hand almost +confidentially upon his knee: "if you fear her influence in your +parish,--and of course I understand that,--why, give her a letter +to another church." + +John half smiled, but did not answer. The room had grown dark as they +talked, and now Alfaretta brought a lamp, looking curiously at the +rector, as she passed him. "Supper's ready, Mr. Ward," she said. + +"Yes," John said. "Dr. Howe, I hope"-- + +But the rector plunged again into argument. Once he stopped, and said, +"So, surely, she can return?" + +"It is impossible," John answered quietly. + +And again, "You will let me send her back?" + +And he said, "No." + +At last, wearied and baffled, Dr. Howe rose. He leaned heavily forward +on the table, his open palm resting on the volume of sermons, which +Alfaretta had lifted from the floor, and he looked steadily at John. +"Then, sir," he said slowly, "I am to understand, for my niece, that this +monstrous decision of yours is fixed and unchangeable? We cannot hope +that her love, or her youth, or your duty, or the miserable scandal of +the affair, will ever move your cruel determination?" + +John rose, too. The interview had been a terrible strain. His courage +was unshaken, but his strength was leaving him; a pathetic desire for +sympathy and understanding seized him. "I love her too much to change. +Don't you understand? But I cling to more than human strength, when I +say, I will not change." + +"Then, by Heaven," cried the rector, "neither shall she! With my consent +she shall never return to a man who reads such books as those," and he +pointed to the row of Edwards,--"a man who denies good in anything +outside his own miserable conception of religion; the very existence of +whose faith is a denunciation and execration of every one who does not +agree with him. You are firm, sir? So is she! I bid you good-day." + +He turned to the door, breathing hard through his shut teeth. John Ward +followed him, and laid his hand upon his arm. "Do not go," he said; +"there is much I would like to say; and you will spend the night here +with me? I beg that you will not go." + +"The roof which refuses to shelter my niece," answered Dr. Howe, his +voice shaking with anger, "shall not be over my head!" + +"Then," said John slowly and gently, "you must listen now to what I have +to say." + +"Must!" cried the rector. + +"Yes, for it is your duty to listen, as it is mine to speak. I dare not +hear a servant of God set the opinion of the world above a conception +of duty--no matter how strained and unnatural the duty may appear to +him--and keep silence. I cannot listen when you urge Helen's temporal +happiness, and refuse to consider her eternal welfare, and not tell you +you are wrong. You evade the truth; you seek ease in Zion. I charge you, +by the sacred name of Him whose minister you are, that you examine your +own soul." + +Dr. Howe looked at him, his face crimson with anger. "Sir," he stammered, +flinging the detaining hand from his arm,--"sir!" And then, for the first +time since Archibald Howe took orders, an oath burst from his lips; he +struck his stick madly against the table, and rushed from the room. + +Alfaretta was lying in wait for him at the garden gate, a large and +rustic bunch of flowers in her hand, which she hoped he would carry to +Helen. + +"How's Mrs. Ward?" she said, trying to detain him. "When will she be +home?" + +"Get out of my way, girl!" he cried, and, slamming the gate behind him, +he strode down the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +When Dr. Howe reached his own door, Helen was waiting for him. + +She had been sitting on the porch alone for more than an hour. She had +been very quiet; there was none of that restlessness which excitement +produced in her uncle or cousin; but when she saw Dr. Howe, she rose, and +stood trembling at the head of the steps. The rector flung himself out of +the carriage almost before it stopped. + +"I want to see you, Helen," he said. "I have something to say to you. +Come into the library." + +She followed him silently, and when he had closed the door he turned and +looked at her. "Now, my child," he began, "you must listen to what I have +to say." + +He stood with one hand on his hip, and lifted the forefinger of the other +as he spoke. "I have seen that man. I have been insulted by him. He is as +firm as the devil can make him that you shall not return to him. Now, I +have no right to interfere between husband and wife; you are entirely +free at any moment to follow any course you may wish. At the same time, +I must tell you that I shall respect you more if you do not return to +him. And I want to add one other thing: from this time, his name is +not to be spoken in my presence." + +Helen's face had grown slowly whiter. "Oh, you will not understand!" she +said hoarsely; but he interrupted her. + +"I am sorry for you, my darling. Oh, what a blow this would have been for +your mother! Poor Mary felt any family trouble so deeply. But you must be +a woman, you must bear it bravely. Yes, your marriage with this fanatic +was a terrible mistake, but we must bear it." + +Helen shook her head; she could not speak. She had not known that she had +hoped anything from her uncle's visit, but this final despair almost +over-powered her. + +"He thinks you are going to change your mind in a week or two," he went +on. "I'd say he was insane if he were not so cruel! There is too much +method in his madness. There! I cannot speak of it; let us drop the +subject. Your place in my heart is secure; I trust you will never leave +me; but on this one topic we cannot meet." Then with a sudden tenderness, +"Oh, Helen, how hard this is for you! You must try to forgive him,--I +cannot." + +"Forgive him?" she said, almost in a whisper, her beautiful eyes dilating +and her lips white. "Oh, John, how I have wronged you, if they think I +have anything to forgive!" + +Dr. Howe looked at her, and seemed to swallow a sob; then he opened his +arms, and, drawing her head down on his shoulder, "Poor child," he said, +"poor child!" + +But this softening on his part met no response from Helen. "You do not +understand John," she said, "and so--so please do not think about me." + +The rebuff sent the rector back to his own resentment. "Remember, I do +not wish to speak of him again, Helen. I have nothing more to say." + +Nor would he say more to Lois and Mrs. Dale than that John Ward was +inflexible, and he wished no further discussion upon the subject; he also +forbade any urging that Helen should return to her husband. + +"Well, but, brother, what explanation shall we give of her being here?" +asked Mrs. Dale anxiously. + +"I'm sure I don't know," he answered impatiently; "anything but the +truth." + +"Why, Archibald!" his sister cried, in a shocked tone. + +"Oh, well, you know what I mean," he said; "make some sort of an excuse. +Of course, don't say anything which is untrue, but don't tell people our +private affairs." + +"Do you think she'll ever go back to him?" Mrs. Dale inquired, looking at +him meditatively over her glasses. + +"I hope not!" he said savagely. "Now stop, Adele, stop! I will not +discuss that man!" + +"Where did she get her obstinacy?" Mrs. Dale sighed. "I suppose it was +from her father's side. And the whole affair is so ill-bred; one would +know Helen was not all a Howe. I always felt there was something lacking +in Charles Jeffrey, though poor dear Mary was so infatuated. Yes, I +remember, when that sister of his came here to visit us, I did not feel +sure, not at all sure, that the Jeffreys were really well-born people. +She used to sit up straight and uncomfortable in a carriage. I never saw +her lean back, and I always said that that girl's grandmother wasn't used +to riding in carriages! So you see, that's where Helen gets her--her bad +taste." + +"Well, don't talk about it," said Dr. Howe, walking restlessly back and +forth. + +Mrs. Dale took off her glasses, and rubbed them on the corner of her +black silk apron. "It would never have happened," she said positively, +"if they had had children. I declare, I"--and she stopped, as though +about to suggest that Helen should adopt a child at once. Mrs. Dale +usually blamed John and Helen with equal impartiality, but to-day the +fault seemed to belong entirely to her niece. She was very much puzzled +to know how she was to "make excuses" without telling an untruth. "I'll +just speak to Giff about it," she thought; "it all depends on the way +Deborah Woodhouse hears it, and Giff is really quite sensible, and can +advise me what to tell her." + +She saw him that afternoon, but, as she said afterwards in reluctant +confidence to her husband, "Giff hasn't much sense, after all. He thought +it was best to just tell the truth about it." + +"Yes?" responded Mr. Dale. "Well, I have often noticed, I am only apt to +admire the good sense of people who agree with me. Gifford doubtless has +not the advantage of feeling sure that his wishes constitute the +standards of right and wrong." + +"Nonsense," said Mrs. Dale; "I am sure I don't know what you are talking +about." + +"Well, what are you going to do?" asked her husband. + +"Oh," Mrs. Dale answered, "Gifford will tell Deborah Woodhouse the +truth (Helen wants him to), but he will do it as carefully and as mildly +as possible. And he will make her promise to keep it to herself. But +you know Deborah Woodhouse; she trickles--there is no other word for +it--everything. She couldn't keep a secret to save her life. But Helen +will have it so. Oh, dear, dear, dear! Heaven save us from willful +women!" + +Gifford broke the news to his aunts as wisely as he knew how, but he +did not hide the truth. It was not until the day before he went back +to Lockhaven that he told them; he had put it off as long as he could, +hoping, as Dr. Howe had done, that John Ward would see how useless it was +to carry out his plan. Gifford had found the sisters together. Miss Ruth +was at work in her studio, while Miss Deborah sat in the doorway, in the +shadow of the grape-vines, topping and tailing gooseberries into a big +blue bowl. She had a handful of crushed thyme in her lap, and some +pennyroyal. + +"It isn't roses," Miss Deborah remarked, "but it is better than Ruth's +turpentine. And so long as I have got to sit here (for I will sit here +while she's copying the miniature; it is a sacred charge), the pennyroyal +is stronger than the paint." + +Miss Ruth, her hands neatly gloved, was mixing her colors a little +wearily; somehow, on her canvas, the face of the little sister lost what +beauty it had ever known. + +"I can't get the eyes," Miss Ruth sighed. "I have a great mind to help +you with your preserving, sister." + +"My dear Ruth," said Miss Deborah, with much dignity, "do I try to do +your work?" + +"But you know you couldn't paint, dear Deborah," said the younger sister +eagerly. The round china-blue eyes of the little sister stared at her +maliciously. + +"Well," returned Miss Deborah, running her small hand through the +gooseberries in the bowl, "neither could you make gooseberry jelly, or +even a tart." Then seeing her nephew lounging down the flagged path to +the door of the studio, his straw hat pushed back and his hands in his +pockets, she was suddenly reminded of his packing. "I hope, Giff, dear," +she cried, "you left plenty of room in your trunk? I have a number of +articles I want you to take." + +"There's lots of room, aunt Deborah," he answered. "You know I had to put +in a bag of straw to fill up, when I came on,--I couldn't have things +rattle around." + +Miss Deborah laughed. "You need your aunt to look after you, my dear." + +"Or a wife," said Miss Ruth, looking up at him over her gleaming +spectacles. + +"Nonsense," replied her sister vigorously; "don't put such ideas into his +head, if you please. I must say such jokes are not in good taste, dear +Ruth." + +But Miss Ruth was more anxious about her light than Gifford's marriage. +"You are really so big, Giff," she complained mildly, "you darken the +whole studio, standing there in the doorway. Do pray sit down." + +Gifford obediently took his seat upon the step, and this brought his face +on a level with Miss Ruth's. + +"Oh, that is nice," the little lady said, with gentle enthusiasm. "I +shall have your eyes to look at. I have not been able to get the little +sister's eyes just to suit me." + +It made no difference to Miss Ruth that Gifford's eyes were gray and full +of trouble. "Aunt Deborah," he said abruptly, "Helen Ward is not going +back to Lockhaven for the present. Indeed, I do not know when she will +go." + +Miss Deborah forgot her gooseberries, in her surprise. "Not going back!" +she cried, while her sister said, "Is Mr. Ward coming here?" + +Then Gifford told them the story as briefly as he could, interrupted by +small cries of amazement and dismay. "Well," exclaimed Miss Deborah, her +delicate hands uplifted, "well! I never heard of such a thing! How +shocking, how ill-bred! And she is going to be at the rectory? Ruth, my +dear, you must never go there without me, do you hear? It is not proper. +A wife separated from her husband! Dear me, dear me!" + +"How can she leave him?" gasped Miss Ruth. "Married people ought to love +each other so that they could not be parted." + +"You have never been in a position to judge how they ought to love each +other," said Miss Deborah sharply. "But this is what comes of youthful +marriages, Gifford. A person should have reached years of maturity before +thinking of marriage. Such things do not happen when people are +reasonably old"-- + +"But not too old, sister," Miss Ruth interrupted, a little color creeping +into her faded cheek. + +Miss Deborah did not notice the amendment; she was anxious to hear the +practical side of the matter, and had questions to ask about Helen's +money, and whether Gifford supposed that that man would do anything for +her; but except their grave disapproval that Helen should differ from her +husband, nothing was said of theology. As they talked, the sisters grew +full of sympathy, which waxed and waned as they thought of Helen's +sorrow, or the impropriety of her action. + +"I shall make her some jelly directly," said Miss Deborah, "and put in +plenty of Madeira; the poor thing needs strength." + +"This must be the reason," Miss Ruth said,--she had put her brushes down +some time ago,--"that she was in such distress that day at her mother's +grave. Oh, how trying this is for her! Indeed, I am sure death is easier +to bear, when one--loves--than a parting like this." + +"Really, dear Ruth," returned her sister, holding her head very straight, +"you would not say that if you knew what it was to lose a--friend, by +death. At least Mr. Ward is alive, even if Helen cannot see him. Ah, dear +me! Well, I wonder how Adele Dale feels now? I should be miserable if we +had such a thing happen in our family. A husband and wife quarrel, and +separate! Shocking!" + +"But there is no quarrel, you know," Gifford protested slowly, and for +the third or fourth time. + +But Miss Deborah brushed this aside. "They are separated; it is the same +thing. In our family, an unhappy marriage was never known. Even when your +grandfather's sister married a Bellingham,--and of course everybody knows +the Bellingham temper,--and they quarreled, just three weeks to a day +after the wedding, she never thought of such a disgraceful thing as +leaving him. I have heard dear mamma say she never spoke to him again, +except when she had to ask for money; that almost killed her, she was so +proud. But she never would have lowered herself by leaving him. Yes, this +is really most improper in poor dear Helen." + +Miss Deborah's feelings vibrated, even while she was making the jelly, +and though it was finally sent, she balanced her kindness by saying to +Mrs. Dale that it did not seem just right for a young thing like Lois to +know of such a painful affair. It gave Miss Deborah so much pleasure to +say this to her old enemy that she made excuses for Helen for a whole day +afterwards. + +Late that afternoon Gifford went to say good-by at the rectory. It was +a still, hazy August day, with a hint of autumn in the air; sometimes a +yellowing leaf floated slowly down, or one would notice that the square +tower of St. Michael's could be seen, and that the ivy which covered its +south side was beginning to redden. + +Miss Helen was not at home, Jean said. She thought she'd gone up to the +graveyard,--she most always went there. + +So Gifford started in search of her. "She ought not to be alone so much," +he thought, and he wondered, with a man's dullness in such matters, why, +if she and Lois had made up after that one quarrel, they were not the +same tender friends. He met Lois at the rectory gate. She was coming from +the village, and there was a look in her face which gave him a sudden +jealous pain. She held a letter in her hand, and her eyes were running +over with happiness; her lips smiled so that they almost broke into +laughter as she spoke. + +"Something seems to make you very happy, Lois?" he said. + +"It does," she cried,--"very, very!" + +"I am glad," he said, wishing she could find it in her heart to tell him +of her joy. + +"Forsythe has come to his senses," he thought. "I suppose he has been +unusually loving, confound him!" + +The two young people parted, each a little graver than when they met. +"How he does like to be with Helen!" Lois thought, as she went on, and +Gifford sighed impatiently as he wished Forsythe were more worthy of her. + +He found Helen walking wearily home alone. "I wanted to say good-by," he +said, taking her hand in his big warm grasp, "and just tell you that I'll +look after him, you know, in any way I can. I'll see him every day, +Helen." She looked at him gratefully, but did not speak. "I wish," +Gifford continued, hesitating, "you would not take such long walks by +yourself. Why don't you let Lois come with you?" + +"She would not care to," she answered briefly. + +"Oh, I think you are wrong there," he remonstrated. "She is lonely, too." +Helen seemed to consider. "You know it has been an unhappy summer for +Lois, and if you shut her out of your sorrow"-- + +"I did not mean to be selfish," she replied, not seeing how much Gifford +spoke for her own sake, "and I do not shut her out; but so long as she +only sympathizes with me, and not with John too, I cannot let her talk to +me about it." + +"That is not quite just, Helen," he said; and afterward, Helen +acknowledged this. + +She put her hands into his, when he turned to go home, and searched his +face with sad, eager eyes. "You are going to see him,--oh, Giff, you'll +see John!" she said. + +Lois saw them talking, as they came to the rectory door, with a dull +feeling of envy. Gifford never seemed to care to talk much to her. What +was that Miss Deborah had said of his once caring for Helen? She had the +good sense to be ashamed of herself for remembering it, but a thought +which comes even into an unwilling mind cannot be driven away without +leaving its impress; the point of view is subtilely and unconsciously +changed. She was not altogether cordial to Gifford, when he said good-by +to her, which he was quick to feel. "He thinks only of Helen," she said +to herself. "I suppose he has forgotten anything he ever said to me, and +my promise, too. I'm ready enough with promises," she thought, with a +bitter little smile. But even this memory could not keep that happiness +which Gifford had seen from shining in her eyes; and when she went +up-stairs, Helen noticed it. + +Perhaps because of Gifford's gentle reproof, she roused herself to say, +as he had done, "You are very happy, Lois?" + +"Oh, I am, I am!" she cried impulsively, "Oh, Helen, I have something to +tell you." A very little sympathy in her cousin's voice brought her eager +confidence to her lips. "Oh, Helen, a letter has come!" + +"John?" she hardly breathed. For one exquisite moment, which had yet its +background that he had not been strong, Helen misunderstood her. + +"No, it's only something about me," Lois answered humbly. + +"Tell me," Helen said gently. "If anything makes you happy, you know I'll +be glad." + +Lois twisted her fingers together, with a nervous sort of joy. "I've just +heard," she said; "Mrs. Forsythe has just written to me." + +"And she is very well?" Helen asked. She had almost forgotten her +cousin's grief and anxiety about Mrs. Forsythe. It all seemed so long ago +and so unimportant. + +"No, no," Lois said, "she says she's very sick; but oh, Helen, Dick +Forsythe is engaged to be married!" + +Helen looked puzzled. "I don't understand." + +"Never mind," Lois cried joyously, "he is, and I am so happy!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +When the summer had faded into autumn, Ashurst had not yet recovered from +the social earthquake of discovering that it had the scandal of an +unhappy marriage within its decorous borders. There had been nothing +which had so shaken the foundation of things since Gertrude Drayton had +run away with her dancing-master, who, it was more than suspected, had +left a wife in France. That sensation lasted a long time, for William +Denner's face was a constant reminder of his grief; but by and by it +faded, and, as Gertrude never came back to Ashurst, people even said very +kindly things about her. + +But Helen Ward continued to live among them. + +Indeed, the excitement was so great at first that Miss Deborah did not +remember for some time to write to Gifford that Dick Forsythe was engaged +to a New York girl. "She really could scarcely blame him," she had added, +"for he could hardly be expected to keep his engagement with Lois after +this disgraceful affair in her family." + +Gifford read that part of the letter again, dizzy with happiness and +pain. "How she must suffer!" he said to himself. "The cur! Ah, she never +could have married him; she must have discovered his contemptible +nature." + +His first impulse was to hurry to Ashurst. "Not for my own sake," he +reasoned, "but just to be there. I would never show that I knew how he +had treated her. She should not have an instant's mortification in my +presence. But she might just see, without being told, that I loved her +through it all." + +He even rose, and began to study a time-table; but he frowned a little +and put it down, and went and looked out of the window a while. "Helen +would be more unhappy if she thought I were not here to look after Ward. +Yes, I must wait till he gets stronger. Perhaps next month"-- + +Then, shaking himself together, with a revulsion of common sense, "As she +is unhappy, she won't care whether I'm there or not, or may be she'd +rather I wasn't!" + +Yet, though he could not easily subdue the desire to rush to Ashurst, the +thought that Helen's sorrow would be a little greater if she could not +think of him as near her husband, helped to keep him at his post. + +But it might have been good for Helen to have had the young man's frank +and healthy understanding of her position. She was growing every day more +lonely and self-absorbed; she was losing her clear perceptions of the +values of life; she became warped, and prejudiced, and very silent. She +even fancied, with a morbid self-consciousness which would have been +impossible before, that she had never possessed the love of her uncle and +cousin, and had always been an alien. This subtile danger to her generous +nature was checked in an unexpected way. + +One afternoon, late in September, she went as usual, alone, to the +graveyard on East Hill. The blue haze lay like a ribbon through the +valley and across the hills; the air was still, and full of the pungent +fragrance of burning brush, and yellow leaves rustled about her feet. The +faded grass had been beaten down by the rain, and was matted above the +graves; here and there a frosted weed stood straight and thin against the +low soft sky; some late golden-rod blazed along the edge of the meadow +among the purple asters, and a single stalk of cardinal flowers flashed +out beside the lichen-covered wall; but all the rest of the world was a +blur of yellow and gray. Helen sat down on a stone, and listened to the +small wood sounds around her. A beech leaf, twisted like the keel of a +fantastic boat, came pattering down on the dead leaves; a bird stirred in +the pine behind her, and now and then a cricket gave a muffled chirp. + +It was here Mr. Dale found her, her head resting forlornly on her hands; +she was absently watching a gray squirrel who had ventured from his cover +in the wall, and was looking at her with curious twinkling eyes. + +"My dear," said Mr. Dale gently, "they told me at the rectory they +thought you were up here, so I came to see if you would let me walk home +with you." + +Helen started as he spoke, and the squirrel scampered away. "Did you come +for that?" she said, touched in spite of her bitter thoughts. + +Mr. Dale pushed his broad-brimmed hat back on his head, so that his face +seemed to have a black aureola around it. "Yes," he replied, regarding +her with anxious blue eyes,--"yes. I am grieved to have you so much +alone; yet I know how natural it is to desire to be alone." + +Helen did not answer. + +"I hope," he went on, hesitating, "you will not think I intrude if I +say--I came because I wanted to say that I have a great respect for your +husband, Helen." + +Helen turned sharply, as though she would have clasped his hands, and +then put her own over her face, which was quivering with sudden tears. + +Mr. Dale touched her shoulder gently. "Yes, a great respect. Love like +his inspires reverence. It is almost divine." + +Helen's assent was inaudible. + +"Not, my dear," the old man continued, "that I do not regret--yes, with +all my heart I deplore--the suffering for you both, by which his love is +proved. Yet I recognize with awe that it is love. And when one has come +so near the end of life as I have, it is much to have once seen love. We +look into the mysteries of God when we see how divine a human soul can +be. Perhaps I have no right to speak of what is so sacredly yours, yet it +is proper that you should know that the full meaning of this calamity can +be understood. It is not all grief, Helen, to be loved as you are." + +She could not speak; she clung to him in a passion of tears, and the love +and warmth she had thought she should never feel again began to stir +about her heart. + +"So you will be strong for him," Mr. Dale said gently, his wrinkled hand +stroking her soft hair. "Be patient, because we have perhaps loved you +too much to be just to him; yet your peace would teach us justice. Be +happier, my dear, that we may understand him. You see what I mean?" + +Helen did see; courage began to creep back, and her reserve melted and +broke down with a storm of tears, too long unshed. "I will try," she said +brokenly,--"oh, I will try!" She did not say what she would try to do, +but to struggle for John's sake gave her strength and purpose for all of +life. She would so live that no one could misunderstand him. + +Mr. Dale walked home with her, but he did not speak to her again of her +sorrow. The impulse had been given, and her conscience aroused; the +harder struggle of coming back to the daily life of others she must meet +alone. And she met it bravely. Little by little she tried to see the +interests and small concerns of people about her, and very gradually the +heavy atmosphere of the rectory began to lighten. Dr. Howe scarcely knew +how it was that there was a whist party in his library one Friday +evening; rather a silent one, with a few sighs from the Misses Woodhouse +and a suspicious dimness in Mr. Dale's eyes. The rector somehow slipped +into the vacant chair; he said he thought he was so old whist would not +hurt him, if they were willing to teach him. But as he swept the board +at the first deal, and criticised his partner's lead at the second, +instruction was deemed superfluous. + +By degrees, Lois and Helen came nearer together. There was no +explanation: the differences had been too subtile for words, at least on +Lois's side, and to have attempted it would have made a vague impression +harden into permanence. + +No one recognized an effort on Helen's part, and she only knew it +herself when she realized that it was a relief to be with Mr. Dale. He +understood; she could be silent with him. So she came very often to his +little basement office, and spent long mornings with him, helping him +label some books, or copying notes which he had intended "getting +into shape" these twenty years. She liked the stillness and dimness of +the small room, with its smell of leather-covered volumes, or whiff of +wood smoke from the fireplace. + +Mrs. Dale rarely disturbed them. "If Helen finds any pleasure in that +musty old room," she said, one cold January morning, "I'm sure I'm glad. +But she would be a great deal more sensible and cheerful if she'd sit up +in the parlor with me, if she didn't do anything more than play patience. +But then, Helen never was like other people." + +And so she left her niece and her husband, with a little good-natured +contempt in her eyes, and went up to her own domains. Mr. Dale was +arranging some plants on a shelf across one of the windows, and Helen was +watching him. "They generally die before the winter is out," he said, +"but perhaps with you to look after them they'll pull through." + +He was in his flowered dressing-gown, and was standing on tiptoe, +reaching up for one of the mildewed flower-pots. "These are orange +plants," he explained proudly. "I planted the seeds a month ago, and see +how they've grown." He put his glasses on and bent down to examine them, +with an absorbed look. The pot that held the six spindling shoots had +streaks of white mould down its sides, and the earth was black and hard +with the deluge of water with which Mr. Dale's anxious care usually began +the season. He began now to loosen it gently with his penknife, saying, +"I'm sure they'll flourish if you look after them." + +"I will if I'm here, uncle Henry," she replied. + +"Ah, my dear," he said, looking at her sharply, "you are not thinking of +that hospital plan again?" + +"Yes," she answered, "I cannot help it. I feel as though I must be of +some use in the world." She was standing in the stream of wintry sunshine +which flooded the narrow window, and Mr. Dale saw that some white threads +had begun to show in the bronze-brown waves of her hair. "Yes," she +continued, "it is so hard to keep still. I must do something, and be +something." + +Mr. Dale stopped digging in his flower-pots, and looked at her without +speaking for a moment; then he said, "I wonder if you will not be +something nobler by the discipline of this quiet life, Helen? And are you +not really doing something if you rouse us out of our sleepy satisfaction +with our own lives, and make us more earnest? I know that cannot be your +object, as it would defeat itself by self-consciousness, but it is true, +my dear." + +She did not speak. + +"You see," he went on, in his gentle voice, "your life cannot be negative +anywhere. You have taken a stand for a vital principle, and it must make +us better. Truth is like heat or light; its vibrations are endless, and +are endlessly felt. There is something very beautiful to me, Helen, +speaking of truth, that you and your husband, from absolutely opposite +and extreme points, have yet this force of truth in your souls. You have +both touched the principle of life,--he from one side, you from the +other. But you both feel the pulse of God in it!" + +"You know," she said gratefully, "you understand"--She stopped abruptly, +for she saw Lois coming hurriedly along the road, and when she opened the +gate she ran across the snowy lawn to Mr. Dale's office, instead of +following the path. There was something in her face which made Helen's +heart stand still. + +She could not wait for her to reach the door, but went out bareheaded to +meet her. + +Lois took her hands between her own, which were trembling. "Gifford has +sent a dispatch. I--I came to bring it to you, Helen." + +Her cousin put out her hand for the telegram. + +"I'm afraid John is ill," Lois said, the quick tears springing to her +eyes. + +"Give it to me," said Helen. + +Reluctantly Lois gave her the dispatch, but she scarcely looked at it. +"Uncle Henry," she said, for Mr. Dale had followed her, and stood in +speechless sympathy, his white hair blowing about in the keen wind, "I +will go to Mercer now. I can make the train. Will you let me have your +carriage?" + +Her voice was so firm and her manner so calm Lois was deceived. "She does +not understand how ill John is," she thought. + +But Mr. Dale knew better. "How love's horror of death sweeps away all +small things," he said, as he sat alone in his study that night,--"time, +hope, fear, even grief itself!" + +His wife did not enter into such analysis; she had been summoned, and had +seen to wraps and money and practical things, and then had gone crying +up-stairs. "Poor child," she said, "poor child! She doesn't feel it yet." + +A calamity like this Mrs. Dale could understand; she had known the sorrow +of death, and all the impatience which had stood between Helen and +herself was swept away in her pitying sympathy. + +As for Lois, Helen had not forbidden her, and she too had gone to Mercer. +Helen had not seemed even to notice her presence in the carriage, and she +dared not speak. She thought, in a vague way, that she had never known +her cousin before. Helen, with white, immovable face, sat leaning +forward, her hand on the door, her tearless eyes straining into the +distance, and a tense, breathless air of waiting about her. + +"May I go to Lockhaven with you?" Lois asked softly; but Helen did not +answer until she had repeated the question, and then she turned with the +start of one suddenly wakened, and looked at her. + +"Oh, you are here?" she said. "You were good to come, but you must not go +further than Mercer." Then she noticed that the window beside Lois was +open, and leaned forward to close it. After that, she lapsed again into +her stony silence. + +When they reached the station, it was she who bought the ticket, and then +again seemed startled to find the girl by her side. "Good-by," she said, +as Lois kissed her, but there was no change in her face, either of relief +or regret, when her cousin left her. + +How that long slow journey passed Helen never knew. She was not even +conscious of its length. When Gifford met her, she gave him one +questioning look. + +"Yes," he said tenderly, "you are in time. He would not let me send +before, Helen; and I knew you would not come unless I said, 'John sends +for you.'" + +"No," she answered. He told her, in their quick ride to the parsonage, +that this had been the third hemorrhage, and John had not rallied; but it +was not until the night before that he had known the end was inevitable +and near, and had sent for his wife. + +Oh, the strangeness of those village streets! Had she ever been away? +These months in Ashurst were a dream; here only was reality and death. + +Alfaretta could not speak as she met them at the gate, but ran by Helen's +side, and furtively kissed her hand. There was a light burning in the +study, but Helen stood at the table in the hall and took off her bonnet +and cloak. + +"I will go and tell him you are here," Gifford said, trying to detain her +as she turned to go up-stairs. + +"He knows," she said calmly, and left Gifford and the servant standing in +the entry. + +She did not even pause at the door; there seemed no need to gather +strength for the shock of that meeting; she was all strength and love. + +The room was lighted only by the fire, and the bed was in shadow. + +There were no words; those empty, dying arms were stretched out to her, +and she gathered him close to her heart. + +The house was strangely silent. Again and again Gifford crept up to the +door, but all was quite still; once he heard that soft sound which a +mother makes when she soothes her baby on her breast, and again a low +murmur, which died away as though even words were an intrusion. + +All that long winter day, Gifford, in his intense anxiety lest Helen +should not come in time, and his distress for the sorrow of this little +household, had been calmed and comforted by John's serene courage. He +knew that death was near, but there was an exultant look in his fading +eyes, and sometimes his lips moved in grateful prayer. Perhaps his +physical extremity had dulled his fears for his wife's salvation into a +conviction that his death was to be the climax of God's plans for her. He +was bewildered at the temptation of greater joy at the prospect of her +presence than gratitude that God should save her soul alive. But he never +for one moment doubted she would come to tell him she had found the +light. + +The night wore heavily on. Gifford stationed himself upon the stairs, +outside the door; the doctor came, and then went quietly down to John's +study, and found a book to while away the time. And then they waited. + +When the first faint lightening of the sky came and the chill of dawn +began to creep through the silent house, Helen came out of the closed +room. She put her hand upon Gifford's shoulder. "Go and rest," she said; +"there is no need to sit here any longer. John is dead." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +After it was all over, they begged her to go back to Ashurst. + +"You can't stay here," Lois entreated--she had come with Mr. Dale as soon +as the news of John Ward's death reached Ashurst--"you can't live among +these people, Helen." + +But Helen shook her head. "They are John's people. I cannot go yet." + +Lois thought with a shiver of the exhortations of the clergymen who had +come to the funeral to officiate. She wondered how Helen could stay where +every one had heard her sin of unbelief publicly prayed for; yet, with +her cousin's brave sad eyes upon her, she dared not give this as a reason +why Helen should leave Lockhaven. + +Mr. Dale did not urge her to return; he knew her too well. He only said +when he went away, holding her hands in his and looking at her, his +gentle old face quivering with tears, "He is all yours now, my dear; +death has given you what life could not. No matter where you are, nothing +can change the perfect possession." + +There was a swift, glad light in the eyes she lifted to his for a moment, +but she did not answer. + +At first she had been stunned and dazed; she had not realized what her +sorrow was; an artificial courage came to her in the thought that John +was free, and the terrible and merciful commonplace of packing and +putting in order, hid her from herself. + +She had stayed behind in the small brown parsonage, with only Alfaretta +for a companion, and Gifford's unspoken sympathy when he came every day +to see her. Once she answered it. + +"I am glad it is John instead of me," she said, with an uplifted look; +"the pain is not his." + +"And it is so much happier for him now," Gifford ventured to say,--"he +must see so clearly; and the old grief is lost in joy." + +"No," Helen answered wearily; "you must not say those things to me. I +cannot feel them. I am glad he has no pain,--in an eternal sleep there is +at least no pain. But I must just wait my life out, Gifford. I cannot +hope; I dare not. I could not go on living if I thought he were living +somewhere, and needing me. No, it is ended. I have had my life." + +She listened in eager and pathetic silence to every detail of John's life +since she had left him which Alfaretta or Gifford could give her. A +little later, she asked them both to write out all that they remembered +of those last days. She dared not trust the sacred memory only to her +heart, lest the obliterating years should steal it from her. And then, by +and by, she gathered up all her power of endurance, and quietly went back +to Ashurst. That last night in the little low-browed parsonage not even +Alfaretta was with her. Gifford left her on the threshold with a terrible +fear in his heart, and he came to the door again very early in the +morning; but she met him calmly, with perfect comprehension of the +anxiety in his face. + +"You need not be afraid for me," she said. "I do not dare to be a +coward." + +And then she walked to the station, without one look back at the house +where she had known her greatest joy and greatest grief. + + * * * * * + +The summer had left spring far behind, when Gifford Woodhouse came to +Ashurst. + +He could not stay in Lockhaven; the tragedy of John Ward had thrown +a shadow upon him. The people did not forget that he was Mrs. Ward's +friend, and they made no doubt, the bolder ones said, that Lawyer +Woodhouse was an infidel, too. So he decided to take an office in Mercer. +This would make it possible for him to come back to Ashurst every +Saturday, and be with his aunts until Monday. + +Perhaps he did not know it, but Lockhaven shadows seemed deeper than +they really were because Mercer was only twelve miles from Lois Howe. +Not that that could mean anything more than just the pleasure of seeing +her sometimes. Gifford told himself he had no hope. He searched her +occasional letters in vain for the faintest hint that she would be glad +to see him. "If there were the slightest chance of it," he said, with a +sigh, "of course I'd know it. She promised. I suppose she was awfully +attached to that puppy." + +However, in spite of hopelessness, he went to Mercer, and soon it became +a matter of course that he should drop in at the rectory every Sunday, +spending the evening with Helen after Dr. Howe and Lois had gone to +church. + +Helen never went. "I cannot," she said to Gifford once; "the service is +beautiful and stately, and full of pleasant associations, but it is +outside of my life. If I had ever been intensely religious, it would be +different, I suppose,--I should care for it as a sacred past; but it was +never more than pleasant. What I called my spiritual life had no reality +to me. And now, surely, I cannot go, when I have no faith at all." + +"I think you will go, some day, Helen," Gifford said thoughtfully; "the +pendulum has to swing very far away from the extreme which you have seen +before the perfect balance comes. And I think you make a mistake when you +say you have no faith. Perhaps you have no creed, but faith, it seems to +me, is not the holding of certain dogmas; it is simply openness and +readiness of heart to believe any truth which God may show." + +They were sitting on the porch at the rectory; the fragrant dusk of the +garden was beginning to melt into trembling light as the moon rose, and +the last flush of sunset faded behind the hills. Helen had a soft white +wrap over her black dress, but Gifford had thought it was cool enough to +throw a gray shawl across her feet; he himself was bareheaded, and sat on +the steps, clasping his knees with his hands. + +"Perhaps so," Helen said, "but I think I am like a person who walks along +in the dark, yet looks toward the east. I will not comfort myself with +little candles of memory or desire, and say, 'This is light!' Perhaps +light will never come to my eyes, but I will wait, for I believe there is +light somewhere." + +It was much for Helen to say this. No one had guessed what was behind her +reserve on such subjects; perhaps no one had very greatly cared. + +"Gifford!" she said suddenly. He looked up, surprised at her tone. + +"Yes, Helen?" + +"I wish," she said, "I wish you were as happy as you deserve to be." + +He knew what she meant, and would not repay her confidence by pretending +not to understand. "Well, I'm not as happy as I desire, perhaps, but no +doubt I'm as happy as I deserve." + +"No," she answered, "you are not. And oh, Gifford, there is so much +sorrow in the world, the only thing which makes life possible is love, +because that is the only thing which does not change." + +"I am afraid it can never be for me," he said, after a moment's silence, +"except the joy of giving love." + +"Why?" she asked gently. + +Gifford did not speak; he rose, and began to pace up and down in front of +the porch, crossing and recrossing the square of light which fell from +the open hall door. "I ought not to talk about it," he said at last. +"I've got it down at the very bottom of my life, a sort of foundation +stone on which to build noble things. Your words make it spring up into +a whole palace of beauty; but it is in the air,--it is in the air! You +know what I mean: it must always be giving with me; she will never care. +She never could, having loved once. And it is curious, Helen, but in a +certain paradoxical way I'm content she shouldn't. She would not be the +woman she is, if she could love twice." + +Helen smiled in the darkness. "Gifford"--she began. + +But he interrupted her, flinging his head back, in impatient despair. +"No, it cannot be, or it would have been, don't you see? Don't encourage +me, Helen; the kindest thing you can do is to kill any hope the instant +it shows its head. There was a time, I was fool enough to think--it was +just after the engagement was broken. But I soon saw from her letters +there was no chance for me." + +"But Gifford,"--Helen almost forgot to protect Lois, in her anxiety to +help him,--"you must not think that. They were never engaged." + +Gifford stood still and looked at her; then he said something in a low +voice, which she could not hear. + +"I must not say another word," she said hurriedly. "I've no right even +to speak as I did. But oh, Gifford, I could not see you lose a chance +of happiness. Life is so short, and there is so much sorrow! I even +selfishly wanted the happiness of your joy, for my own sake." + +Still Gifford did not speak; he turned sharply on his heel, and began his +restless walk. His silence was getting unbearable, when he stopped, and +said gently, "I thank you, Helen. I do not understand it all, but that's +no matter. Only, don't you see, it doesn't make any difference? If she +had been going to care, I should have known it long ago." + +This was very vague to Helen; she wondered if Lois had refused him again. +But Gifford began to talk quietly of his life in Mercer, and she did not +venture to say anything more. "After all, they must work out their own +salvation," she thought. "No one can help them, when they both know the +facts." + +She listened a little absently to Gifford, who was speaking of the lack +of any chance for advancement in Mercer. "But really," he added, "I ought +not to go too far away from my aunts, now; and I believe that the highest +development of character can come from the most commonplace necessities +of life." Helen sighed; she wondered if this commonplace of Ashurst +were her necessity? For again she was searching for her place in the +world,--the place that needed her, and was to give her the happiness of +usefulness; and she had even thought vaguely that she might find some +work in Lockhaven, among John's people, and for them. They both fell into +the silence of their own thoughts, until the rector and his daughter came +back from church, and Gifford went home. + +That next week was a thoughtful one with Gifford Woodhouse; Helen's words +had stirred those buried hopes, and it was hard to settle back into a +life of renunciation. He was strangely absent-minded in his office. One +day Willie Denner, who had come to read law, and was aspiring to be his +clerk, found him staring out of the window, with a new client's papers +lying untouched before him. After all, he thought, would it be wrong, +would it trouble Lois (he had said he should never trouble her), if he +just told her how the thought of her helped him, how she was a continual +inspiration in his life? "If I saw it bothered her, I could stop," he +argued. + +And so, reasoning with himself, he rode over from Mercer late that +Saturday night. The little ladies were, as usual, delighted to see him. +These weekly visits were charming; their nephew could be admired and +fussed over to their hearts' content, but was off again before they had +time to feel their small resources at an end. The next morning he +dutifully went to church with them. Sunday was a proud day for the Misses +Woodhouse; each took an arm of the young man, whose very size made him +imposing, and walked in a stately way to the door of St. Michael's. They +would gladly have been supported by him to their pew, but it would have +been, Miss Deborah said, really flaunting their nephew in the faces of +less fortunate families, for Ashurst could not boast of another young +man. + +Miss Ruth wore her new bonnet that day in honor of his presence. She had +taken it from the bandbox and carefully removed its wrapping of tissue +paper, looking anxiously at the clouds as she smoothed the lavender +strings and pinched the white asters on the side, before she decided that +it was safe to wear it. + +Gifford looked up the rectory lane as they drew near the church, and +Miss Deborah noticed it. "Giff, dear," she asked, "did you observe, last +Sunday, how ill poor little Lois looked?" + +"No," he said, somewhat startled. + +"Ah, yes," said Miss Ruth, nodding her head so that the white asters +trembled, "she has never really gotten over that disappointment about +young Forsythe." + +"But she was not engaged to him," responded Gifford boldly. + +"Not engaged," Miss Deborah admitted, "but she fully expected to be. +He did not treat her honorably; there is no doubt of that. But her +affections were unalterably his." + +"How do you know that?" demanded her nephew. + +"Why, my dear child," said Miss Ruth, "there is no doubt of it. Adele +Dale told dear Deborah the whole story. Of course she had it from Lois." + +"Not that it makes the slightest difference in my position," Gifford +thought, as he sat crowding down the pain of it, and looking at Lois, +sitting in the rosy light of the window of the left transept. "I am just +where I was before, and I'll tell her, if it does not seem to bother +her." + +After church, there was the usual subdued gossip about the door, and +while Gifford waited for his aunts, who had something to say to the +rector, he listened to Mrs. Dale, who said in her incisive voice, "Isn't +it too bad Helen isn't here? I should think, whether she wanted to or +not, she'd come for her husband's sake." Even the apology of death had +not made Mrs. Dale pardon John Ward. + +But Mr. Dale mildly interjected,--"She would stay away for his sake, if +she did not really want to come." + +To which Mrs. Dale responded, "Fudge!" + +Miss Deborah also spoke of her absence to Lois. "Sorry dear Helen is not +here, but of course Gifford will see her to-night. He does so enjoy his +evenings with her. Well, they are both young--and I have my thoughts!" + +So, with the utmost innocence, Miss Deborah had planted the seeds of +hopelessness and jealousy in the hearts of both these young people. +Gifford spent the rest of the long, still Sunday wandering restlessly +through the house, and changing his mind about speaking to Lois every few +minutes. Lois was very distant that evening at the rectory, so Gifford +talked mostly to Helen. There was no chance to say what he had intended, +and he made none. + +"Well," he said to himself as he went home, not caring to stay and talk +to Helen when Lois had gone to church,--"well, it is all a muddle. I +don't understand about there being no engagement, but I cannot help +remembering that she cared, though I have no business to. And she cares +yet. Oh, what a confounded idiot I am!" + +He told his aunts he was going to make an early start the next morning. +"I shall be off before you are up. I guess Sarah will give me something +to eat. And, aunt Deborah, I don't know that I can get over next week." + +The little ladies protested, but they were secretly very proud that his +business should occupy him so much. + +There was a silver mist across the hills, when Gifford led his horse out +of the barn the next morning, and the little sharp paving-stones in the +stable-yard, with thin lines of grass between them, were shining with +dew. The morning-glories about the kitchen porch had flung their rosy +horns toward the east, as though to greet the sunrise. Sarah stood under +them, surveying the young man regretfully. "Your aunts won't half like +it, Mr. Gifford," she said, "that you wouldn't eat a proper breakfast." + +But he put his foot in the stirrup, and flung himself into his saddle. He +was too much absorbed in his own concerns to reflect that Miss Deborah +would be distressed if her Scotch collops were slighted, and that was not +like Gifford. However, he was young and a man, so his grief did not +prevent him from lighting a cigarette. The reins fell on the horse's neck +as he climbed East Hill, and Gifford turned, with one hand on the bay's +broad flanks, to look down at Ashurst. The valley was still full of mist, +that flushed and trembled into gold before it disappeared at the touch of +the sun. There was a flutter of birds' wings in the bushes along the +road, and the light wind made the birch leaves flicker and dance; but +there was hardly another sound, for his horse walked deliberately in the +grass beside the road, until suddenly a dog barked. Gifford drew his rein +sharply. "That was Max!" he said, and looked about for him, even rising a +little in his stirrups, "How fond she is of the old fellow!" he thought. + +In another moment the dog ran across the road, his red coat marked with +dew; then the bushes were pushed aside, and his mistress followed him. + +"Why, Gifford!" she said. + +"Why, Lois!" he exclaimed with her, and then they looked at each other. + +The young man threw away his cigarette, and, springing from his horse, +slipped the reins over his arm, and walked beside her. + +"Are you going away?" Lois asked. "But it is so early!" + +She had her little basket in her hand, and she was holding her blue print +gown up over a white petticoat, to keep it from the wet grass. Her broad +hat was on the back of her head, and the wind had blown the curls around +her face into a sunny tangle, and made her cheeks as fresh as a wild +rose. + +"You are the early one, it seems to me," he answered, smiling. + +"I've come to get mushrooms for father," she explained. "It is best to +get them early, while the dew is on them. There are a good many around +that little old ruin further up the road, you know." + +"Yes, I know," he said. (He felt himself suddenly in a tumult of +uncertainty. "It would be no harm just to say a word," he thought. "Why +shouldn't she know--no matter if she can never care herself--that I care? +It would not trouble her. No, I am a fool to think of it,--I won't.") +"But it is so early for you to be out alone," he said. "Do you take care +of her, Max?" + +"Max is a most constant friend," Lois replied; "he never leaves me." Then +she blushed, lest Gifford should think that she had thought he was not +constant. + +But Gifford's thoughts were never so complicated. With him, it was +either, "She loves me," or, "She does not;" he never tormented himself, +after the fashion of women, by wondering what this look meant, or that +inflection, and fearing that the innermost recesses of his mind might be +guessed from a calm and indifferent face. + +"You see the old chimney?" Lois said, as they drew near the small ruin. +"Some mushrooms grow right in on the hearth." + +It was rather the suggestion of a ruin, for the walls were not standing; +only this stone chimney with the wide, blackened fireplace, and the flat +doorstones before what was once the threshold. Grass and brambles +covered the foundations; lilacs, with spikes of brown dead blossoms, grew +tall and thick around it, and roses, gone back to wild singleness, +blossomed near the steps and along a path, which was only a memory, the +grass had tangled so above it. + +Max kept his nose under Lois's hand, and the horse stumbled once over +a stone that had rolled from the broken foundation and hidden itself +beneath a dock. The mushrooms had opened their little shining brown +umbrellas, as Lois had said, on the very hearth, and she stooped down to +gather them and put them in her basket of sweet grass. From the bushes at +one side came the sudden note of a bob-white; Max pricked his ears. + +"Lois," Gifford said abruptly, still telling himself that he was a +fool,--but then, it was all so commonplace, so free from sentiment, so +public, with Max, and the horse, and the bob-white, it could not trouble +her just to--"Lois, I'd like--I'd like to tell you something, if you +don't mind." + +"What?" she said pleasantly; her basket was full, and they began to walk +back to the road again. + +Gifford stopped to let his horse crop the thick wet grass about a fallen +gate-post. He threw his arm over the bay's neck, and Lois leaned her +elbows on the other post, swinging her basket lightly while she waited +for him to speak. The mist had quite gone by this time, and the sky was a +fresh, clear blue. "Well," he began, suddenly realizing that this was a +great deal harder than he had supposed ("She'll think I'm going to +bother her with a proposal," he thought),--"well, the fact is, Lois, +there's something I want you to know. Perhaps it doesn't really interest +you, in one way; I mean, it is only a--a happiness of my own, and it +won't make any difference in our friendship, but I wanted you to know +it." + +In a moment Miss Deborah's suggestion was a certainty to Lois. She +clasped her hands tight around the handle of her grass basket; Gifford +should not see them tremble. "I'm sure I'll be glad to hear anything that +makes you happy." + +Her voice had a dull sound in her own ears. + +"Helen put it into my head to tell you," Gifford went on nervously. "I +hope you won't feel that I am not keeping my word"-- + +She held her white chin a little higher. "I don't know of any 'word,' as +you call it, that there is for you to keep, Gifford." + +"Why, that I would not trouble you, you know, Lois," he faltered. "Have +you forgotten?" + +"What!" Lois exclaimed, with a start, and a thrill in her voice. + +"But I am sure," he said hurriedly, "it won't make you unhappy just to +know that it is still an inspiration in my life, and that it always will +be, and that love, no matter if"-- + +"Oh, wait a minute, Giff!" Lois cried, her eyes shining like stars +through sudden tears, and her breath quick. "I--I--why, don't you know, +I was to--don't you remember--my promise?" + +"Lois!" he said, almost in a whisper. He dropped the bay's rein, and came +and took her hand, his own trembling. + +"I know what you were going to say," she began, her face turned away so +that he could only see the blush which had crept up to her temple, "but +I"--He waited, but she did not go on. Then he suddenly took her in his +arms and kissed her without a word; and Max, and the horse, and the +bob-white looked on with no surprise, for after all it was only part of +the morning, and the sunrise, and Nature herself. + +"And to think that it's I!" Lois said a minute afterward. + +"Why, who else could it be?" cried Gifford rapturously. + +But Lois shook her head; even in her joy she was ashamed of herself. "I +won't even remember it," she thought. + +Of course there were many explanations. Each was astonished at the other +for not having understood; but Lois's confession of her promise to Mrs. +Forsythe made all quite clear, though it left a look that was almost +stern behind the joy in Gifford's eyes. + +"You know I couldn't help it, Giff," she ended. + +But he did not speak. + +"It wasn't wrong," she said. "You see how it was,--you don't think it was +wrong?" + +"Yes, I do, Lois," he answered. + +"Oh!" she cried; and then, "But you made me!" + +"I?" he exclaimed, bewildered. + +And then she told him how his acknowledgment of her fault drove her into +a desire for atonement. "You know, you think I'm wrong pretty often," +she added shyly; and then they mutually forgave each other. + +"I suppose I did find a good deal of fault," Gifford admitted, humbly, +"but it was always because I loved you." + +"Oh!" said Lois. + +But there was so much to say they might have talked until noon, except +that, as they had neither of them breakfasted, and happiness and morning +air are the best sort of tonics, they began to think of going to the +rectory. Gifford had quite forgotten the business in Mercer which needed +him so early. + +"Father won't have mushrooms with his steak to-day," Lois commented, +looking ruefully at the little basket, which she still held in her hand. + +They stopped at the roadside, walking hand in hand like two children, and +looked back at the ruin. "It was a home once," Gifford said, "and there +was love there; and so it begins over again for us,--love, and happiness, +and all of life." + +"Oh, Giff," the girl said softly, "I don't deserve"-- + +But that, of course, he would not hear. When they came to the rectory +gate,--and never did it take so long to walk from East Hill to the +rectory,--Gifford said, "Now let's go and tell Helen; we've kept her out +of our joy too long." They met her in the cool, dusky hall, and Gifford, +taking her hand, said gently, "Be glad, too, Helen!" + +Lois had put her arms about her cousin, and without further words Helen +knew. + + * * * * * + +And so Helen Ward's duty came to her, the blessedness and helpfulness of +being needed; when Lois went to her new home, Helen would be necessary +to her uncle, and to be necessary would save her life from hardness. +There need be no thought of occupation now. When Mr. Dale heard the news, +he said his congratulations were not only for Lois and Gifford, but for +Helen, and after that for Ashurst. + + * * * * * + +A genuine Ashurst engagement was a great thing, and the friends of the +young people received it in their several ways. Dr. Howe was surprised, +but disposed to make the best of it. "This is always the way," he said, +with his big, jolly laugh: "a man brings up his girls, and then, just as +soon as they get old enough to amount to something and be a comfort to +him, some other man comes along and carries them off. What? Mind, now, +Gifford, don't you go further away than Mercer!" + +As for Mrs. Dale, she was delighted. "It is what I have always wanted; it +is the one thing I've tried to bring about; and if Lois will do as I tell +her, and be guided by a wiser head than her own, I have no doubt she will +be very reasonably happy." + +"Doesn't a woman expect to be guided by her husband?" Mr. Dale asked. + +"When he has sense enough," responded his wife significantly. + +Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were greatly pleased. "Of course they are very +young," said Miss Deborah, "but I'll have an eye to the housekeeping +until Lois gets older. Fortunately, they'll be so far away from dear +Adele, she cannot interfere much. Even with the best intentions in the +world, a girl's relations shouldn't meddle." + +"They seem very much in love, sister," said Miss Ruth thoughtfully. + +"Well, really, dear Ruth," replied her sister, "you are hardly capable of +judging of that; but you happen to be right; they are as much attached +as one can expect young people to be." + +But Miss Ruth, as she stood that night before her cherry-wood +dressing-table, its brass rings glimmering in the candle-light, opened +Mr. Denner's daguerreotype, and, looking wistfully at the youthful face +behind the misty glass, said softly to herself, "Ah, well, it's good to +be young." + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Ward, Preacher, by Margaret Deland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN WARD, PREACHER *** + +***** This file should be named 18478.txt or 18478.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/7/18478/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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