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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/35436-8.txt b/35436-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9144587 --- /dev/null +++ b/35436-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10830 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent + +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: Mr. Claghorn's Daughter + +Author: Hilary Trent + +Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35436] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Mr. Claghorn's Daughter. + + BY HILARY TRENT. + + + Copyright, 1903, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company + + All Rights Reserved. + + NEW YORK: + J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + 57 ROSE STREET. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. A Philosopher and a Marchioness + +II. Two Pagans Discuss Fish, Paris and the Higher Criticism + +III. A Cousin in the Coils of the Great Serpent + +IV. The Diversions of the Claghorns + +V. How a Pagan Philosopher Entered the Service of the Church + +VI. Art, Diplomacy, Love and Other Things + +VII. A Conference of Spinsters Concerning a Runaway Damsel + +VIII. A Maiden Fair, a Modern Early Father and a Theologian + +IX. The Advantages of Treading the Borderland of Vice + +X. A Youth of Promise, a Female Politician, and a Yellow Man + +XI. The Devil Walks To and Fro in Hampton + +XII. Her Eyes Grew Limpid and Her Cheeks Flushed Red + +XIII. Whereat Cynics and Matrons May Smile Incredulous + +XIV. In the White House--A Damsel or the Devil, Which? + +XV. Sur le Pont d'Avignon on y Danse, on y Danse + +XVI. Warblings in the White House and Snares for a Soul + +XVII. The Secret of Her Heart Was Never Told by Her to Him + +XVIII. A Lover Writes a Letter + +XIX. A Kiss that Might Have Lingered on His Lips While Seeking Entrance +at the Gate of Heaven + +XX. A Dishonest Veiling of a Woman's Heart + +XXI. A Man About to Meet a Maid + +XXII. Man Walketh in a Vain Shadow + +XXIII. A Parson Treads the Primrose Path in Paris + +XXIV. To Him I will be Henceforth True in All Things + +XXV. Mrs. Joe on Clerical Bumptiousness and Mrs. Fenton's Shoulders + +XXVI. Introduces Dr. Stanley, Satan and the Prayer Meeting of Matrons + +XXVII. The Music of the Chorus of the Anguish of the Damned + +XXVIII. Cursing and Beating Her Breast, She Falls Upon the Grave + +XXIX. Dr. Stanley Discourses Concerning the Diversions of the Saints + +XXX. Startling Effect of Dr. Burley's True Meaning + +XXXI. He Clasped Her Lithe Body with a Clutch of Fury + +XXXII. A Pæan of Victory Hymned in Hell + +XXXIII. A Delectable Discussion in Which a Shakesperian Matron is Routed + +XXXIV. When Manhood is Lost Woman's Time is Come + +XXXV. A Bottle of Champagne + +XXXVI. She Cried Aloud She Was a Guilty Creature + +XXXVII. A Golden Bridge for Passage Across an Abyss of Shame + +XXXVIII. The Ruins of Her Air Castles Lay Around Her + +XXXIX. Voidable Vows of Turks (and Others) + +XL. Her Face Was the Mirror of Her Pleasant Dreams + +XLI. Her Guilty Conscience Cried, "Behold Your Handiwork" + +XLII. I Will Never Leave Him, So Help Me God! + +XLIII. Money, Heaps of Money + +XLIV. Wedding Bells + + + + +PREFACE. + + +Some readers of this novel will charge the author with the crime of +laying a sacrilegious hand upon the Ark of God; others will characterize +his work as an assault upon a windmill. + +I contend (and the fact, if it be a fact, is ample justification for +this book) that The Westminster Confession of Faith has driven many +honest souls to the gloom of unbelief, to the desperate need of a denial +of God; and that to-day a very large number of the adherents of that +Confession find it possible to maintain their faith in God only by +secret rejection of a creed they openly profess. + +Take from that Confession those Articles which give rise to the dilemma +which confronts the wife and mother of this story, and nothing is left. +The articles in question are the essential articles of the Confession. + +He who can in honesty say of The Westminster Confession of Faith: "This +is my standard: by this sign I shall conquer," he, and he only, has the +right to condemn my purpose. + +HILARY TRENT. + + + + +MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A PHILOSOPHER AND A MARCHIONESS. + + +Mr. (by preference Monsieur) Beverley Claghorn, of the Rue de la Paix, +Paris, was a personage of some note in that world in which he had lived +for many years. His slightly aquiline nose and well-pointed moustache, +his close-cropped grizzled hair, his gold-rimmed pince-nez, his hat, his +boots--his attire as a whole--successfully appealed to a refined taste. +The sapphire, encircled by tiny diamonds, which adorned his little +finger, beautiful to the common eye, was, in the eye of the connoisseur, +a rare and exquisite gem. Except as to an inch or two of stature, the +outward man of Monsieur Claghorn left nothing to be desired; while as to +his intellectual calibre, he to whom it was best known regarded it with +respect, even with admiration; his moral deportment had never occasioned +scandal; with the goods of this world he was liberally endowed. As a +philosopher (for he affected that character) he should have been a +contented man; being human, as philosophers must be, he was not. As +against the advantages indicated, Monsieur had grievances incompatible +with contentment. He was nearer sixty than forty, which was one cause of +sorrow; another was that, in spite of the effort of years, he had not in +fact become a Parisian. He had succeeded in approaching the type very +nearly; nevertheless, though his card might proclaim him "Monsieur" and +imply its owner to the Gallic manner born, the truth remained that he +was not so born. His language, by dint of effort, aided by native +talent, had become almost as easy and as idiomatic as the enunciations +of those who formed the world in which he dwelt, yet he was poignantly +aware that therein was still to be detected an echo of the twang of his +youth and of his native tongue. His surname, too, as a stumbling block +to his friends, was a source of vexation. Had he been born a Dobbins, a +mere apostrophe would have made him a d'Obbins and content. But the +uncompromising appellation of his ancestors refused to lend itself to a +fraud, though venial, and even ennobling, and thus remained a source of +repining; a gentle regret that his cognomen was not more fitting to his +environment. But as to his name received in baptism, therewith was +connected a grief so deep and a dread so great, that it was, perhaps, +the most baleful of his closeted skeletons. Fortune having so far +enabled Monsieur to hide the sorrow connected with his Christian name, +let us also leave the matter to fortune. + +To enumerate all the grievances of our philosopher would be a tedious +task, but there was one of such magnitude that it may be regarded as the +great grievance of his existence. This was Christianity. + +That earnest conviction of the truth of orthodox Christianity should +incite to propagandism is easily comprehensible. A reasonable sinner +will not complain of the believer's desire to save errant souls; indeed, +he may well be amazed that the believer engages in any other occupation. +But why the rage for proselytizing should inspire the non-believer is +less obvious. Why should the heathen rage because the zealot is deluded +by hope and his eyes deceived by the cheering illusions offered by +faith? If the rough road of the Christian wayfarer, its gloomy valleys +and dark caverns are smoothed and illumined by the cheering light of +conviction, why should the skeptic object, and beckon the fervent +pilgrim from his chosen path to that broader and more alluring road +selected by himself? Can it be that, like a boy who fears the coming +darkness, the skeptic craves companionship, suspecting hobgoblins after +sunset? + +Monsieur Claghorn was indignant that the world, as he knew it, either +professed a more or less orthodox belief in God, or cared nothing about +the matter. Both attitudes aroused his ire. + +"My dear Claghorn," urged his connexion, the Marquise de Fleury, "why +not leave these matters to Père Martin, as I do? I assure you it is +comforting," and the little matron shrugged her rather sharp +shoulder-blades and nestled more snugly in the corner of her blue-silk +sofa. + +"It is degrading to the intellect." + +"Ah! The intellect--I have none; I am all soul." + +"You--the brightest woman in Paris!" + +"Too broad, _mon ami_. Exaggeration destroys the delicate flavor of a +compliment." + +"Louise, you are in a bad humor. Evidently, you don't like your gown." + +"The gown is ravishing, as you should have seen before this. It is you, +my friend, who are angry. To what end? Angry at nothing? That is +foolish. Angry at something? Considering that that Something is God----" + +"There you have it,--fear. Women rule men through their passions; and +priests rule women through their fears." + +"_Eh bien!_ Have it so. You deny God. It is daring--splendid--but what +do you gain, what do you gain, _mon ami_?" + +"I deny your impossible God, and in so doing, I retain my self-respect." + +"A valuable possession, doubtless. Yet the fact remains that you fight +windmills, or you fight the power that loosens the hurricane. Futile +warfare!" + +Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. A woman's argument is rarely worthy the +attention of a philosopher. + +"Behold," continued the little Marquise, "behold Père Martin. He is +good; he is wise. What has he to gain? Only heaven. He sacrifices much +on earth--pleasure, dignity, power----" + +"He has more power than a king----" + +"Listen, my friend, and do not interrupt. If he has power over me and +such as I--which is what you mean--he uses it discreetly, kindly. I +enjoy life, I hope for heaven. You enjoy life, of heaven you have no +hope. Which of us is wise?" + +"You believe because you think it safer." + +"_Dame, mon ami!_ It costs nothing." + +"It is cowardly." + +"Ah, well, my friend, I am a coward. Let us discuss something less +gruesome. This charming Natalie! You will let her come to me, now that +she is to leave the barbarians?" + +"I, too, am a coward. I fear Père Martin." + +"Believe me, my friend," said the Marquise, more seriously than she had +yet spoken, "you do wrong. Women need religion. They must adore; they +must sacrifice themselves to the object of their worship. As a rule they +have a choice. They may worship God or they may worship Love. To one or +the other they will devote themselves or miss their destiny. Which is +less dangerous?" + +"There is danger everywhere," replied the philosopher, discontentedly. +"But, indeed, Louise, this matter is more serious to me, the unbeliever, +than to you, the Christian. You Latins do not comprehend the reverence +we of a different race assign to principle. I think it wrong, immoral, +to expose my daughter to an atmosphere of falsehood." + +"Monsieur, you are unjust to us Latins; and worse, you are impolite." + +"I am serious. I think Christianity the curse of mankind." + +"And you object to it. That is magnanimous." + +"Natalie has been left in total ignorance of all religion." + +"Charming--but hardly _de rigueur_ for a de Fleury." + +"She is a Claghorn." + +"An excellent thing to be; enviable indeed, my dear,--in America. But +she will be a Parisienne; we hope a de Fleury, of a house by inheritance +religious. The wife of the Marquis de Fleury must uphold the family +traditions. Do you not see, my friend, that it is thirty generations of +nobles that insist." + +Monsieur Claghorn, though in doubt as to God, believed in the +generations. He had long looked forward to the time when his daughter +should be united to the last scion of this ancient race. True, the +title was in these days purely ornamental; but, though a philosopher, he +was not of that unwise class which can see no value in adornment. He +suspected that the noble Marquis, whose coronet he craved for his +daughter, as well as his mama, the little lady to whom he was talking, +were in truth as much interested in the material as in the spiritual +attributes of the future mother of the race, but he was also aware that +there were other influences to be considered. + +"Perhaps Père Martin is even more insistent than the thirty +generations," he suggested. + +"Even so, my friend; when Père Martin insists it is my conscience that +insists." + +"After all, Louise, this discussion is premature. Adolphe is still at +St. Cyr, Natalie at school----" + +"But to-day we prepare for to-morrow. Adolphe will soon be a lieutenant, +your daughter a woman. Let her come to me. Our prayers, those of Père +Martin and mine, cannot harm her." + +"Assuredly not, still----" + +"But my good pagan, do you intend to refuse? Is it worth nothing to your +daughter to be introduced by the Marquise de Fleury?" + +It was worth so much that M. Claghorn had no intention of refusing. "And +Adolphe?" he asked. + +"Will remain at St. Cyr. Fear nothing, my friend. I shall do nothing in +that matter without consulting you." + +"You are always kind. It shall be as you wish." And then, after some +further indifferent conversation, the Marquise was by M. Claghorn handed +to her carriage for a promenade in the Bois; while the philosopher, +after that act of courtesy, left her to visit La Duchesne, a fashionable +seeress, who prophesied as to the course of stocks. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +TWO PAGANS DISCUSS FISH, PARIS AND THE HIGHER CRITICISM. + + +It was midsummer. The Marquise was in Brittany, Monsieur in Germany; or, +as Madame de Fleury patriotically expressed it, among the barbarians, he +having penetrated into barbaric wilds in order to reclaim his daughter, +whose education, for the past two years, had been progressing under +barbaric auspices. + +There is, not far from Heidelberg, and in that part of the country of +the barbarians known as the Odenwald, a quaint village called +Forellenbach; and hard by the village, which is clustered against a +steep hill-side, there dashes in cascades that foam and roar, a stream, +from the dark pools whereof are drawn trout, which, by the excellent +host of the Red-Ox are served hot, in a sauce compounded of white wine +and butter; and these things render the place forever memorable to him +who loves fish or scenery, or both. + +Monsieur Claghorn and his daughter were seated in the garden of the +Red-Ox. They had arrived at the inn in a carriage, being on their way to +Heidelberg. From Natalie's school they had journeyed by rail to Bad +Homburg; and from that resort, having despatched the girl's maid ahead +by train, they had commenced a mode of travel which Natalie secretly +hoped would not end as soon as had been originally anticipated; for the +trip thus far had been the most delightful experience of her life. + +There were reasons for this delight besides the joy derived from driving +in pleasant weather, over smooth roads, through curious villages, beside +winding rivers whose vineclad hills echoed the raftsman's song; beneath +the trees of many a forest, passing often the ruins of some grim keep, +which silently told to the girl its story of the time that, being past, +was a time of romance when life was more beautiful, more innocent, less +sordid than now. Not that Natalie knew much of the unpleasing features +of modern life, or of any life (else had her self-made pictures of other +days borne a different aspect), still the past had its attraction for +her, as it has for all that love to dream; and from her Baedeker she had +derived just enough information to form the basis of many a tender scene +that had never taken place, in days that never were or could have been. +Her dreams were not wholly of the past, but of the future as well; all +impossible and as charming as innocence and imagination could paint +them. School was behind her, her face toward France, a home fireside, +liberty and happiness for all time to come. No vision of the days in +which she had not lived could be more alluring than the visions of the +days in which she was to live, nor more delusive. + +Beverley Claghorn looking upon his daughter, perhaps, also saw a +visionary future. He loved her, of course. He respected her, too, for +had not her mother been of the ancient House of Fleury? It was no +ignoble blood which lent the damask tint to cheeks upon which he gazed +with complacent responsibility for their being. The precious fluid, +coursing beneath the fair skin, if carefully analyzed, should exhibit +corpuscles tinged with royal azure. For, was it not true that a +demoiselle of her mother's line had been, in ancient days, graciously +permitted to bear a son to a king of France, from which son a noble +House had sprung with the proud privilege of that bar sinister which +proclaimed its glory? These were facts well worthy to be the foundation +of a vision in which he saw the maid before him a wife of one of the old +noblesse; a mother of sons who would uphold the sacred cause of +Legitimacy, as their ancestors (including himself, for he was a furious +Legitimist) had done before them. It would solace the dreaded status of +grandfather. + +"What are you thinking of, Natalie?" he asked in French. + +"Of many things; principally that I am sorry he showed them to us." + +"The trout?" + +"Yes, I am so hungry." + +"They have sharpened your appetite. They are beautiful fish." + +"I'm glad they haven't spoiled it. Why, papa, they were alive! Did you +see their gills palpitate?" + +"They are very dead now." + +"And we shall eat them. It seems a pity." + +He laughed. "Grief will not prevent your enjoyment," he said; "you will +have a double luxury--of woe, and----" + +"You are ashamed of my capacity for eating, papa. It is very +unromantic." + +Papa smiled, raising his eyelids slightly. He seemed, and in fact was, a +little bored. "Haven't we had enough of this?" he asked. + +"But we haven't had any yet." + +"I don't mean trout--I only hope they won't be drowned in bad butter--I +mean of this," and he lazily stretched his arms, indicating the +Odenwald. + +She sighed. Her secret hope that the journey by carriage might be +extended further than planned was waning. "I was never so happy in my +life," she exclaimed. "I shall never forget the pine-forests, the hills, +the castles; nor the geese in the villages; nor the horrible little +cobblestones----" + +"Nor the sour wine----" + +"That is your French taste, papa. The _vin du pays_ is no better in +France. The wine is good enough, if you pay enough." + +"The Lützelsachser is drinkable, the Affenthaler even good," admitted +Monsieur, indulgent to barbaric vintage; "but think of yesterday!" + +"Think of an epicure who expected to get Affenthaler in that poor little +village! They gave you the best they had." + +"Which was very bad." He laughed good-naturedly. "I dread a similar +experience if we continue this method of travel." + +"I could travel this way forever and forever!" She sighed and extended +her arms, then clasped her hands upon her breast. It was an unaffected +gesture of youth and pleasure and enthusiasm. + +It made him smile. "Wait until you have seen Paris," he said. + +"But I have seen Paris." + +"With the eyes of a child; now you are a woman." + +"That is so," somewhat dreamily, as though this womanhood were no new +subject of reverie. "I am eighteen--but why should Paris be especially +attractive to a woman?" + +"Paris is the world." + +"And so is this." + +"This, my dear----" the remonstrance on his lips was interrupted by the +arrival of the fish. + +They were very good: "_Ravissant!_" exclaimed Natalie, who displayed a +very pitiless appreciation of them. "Not so bad," admitted papa. + +"And so I am to stay with my cousin, the Marquise," said the girl, after +the cravings of an excellent appetite had been satisfied. "Papa, even +you can find no fault with this Deidesheimer," filling her glass as she +spoke. + +"With your cousin for a time, anyhow. It is very kind of her, and for +you nothing better could be wished. She sees the best world of Paris." + +"And as I remember, is personally very nice." + +"A charming woman--with a fault. She is devout." + +"I have known some like her," observed Natalie. "There was Fräulein +Rothe, our drawing-mistress, a dear old lady, but very religious." + +"I hope none of them attempted to influence you in such matters," he +said, frowning slightly. + +"No. It was understood that you had expressly forbidden it. I was left +out of the religious classes; they called me 'The Pagan.'" + +"No harm in that," commented Monsieur rather approvingly. + +"Oh, no! It was all in good-nature. The Pagan was a favorite. But, of +course, I have had some curiosity. I have read a little of the Bible." +She made her confession shyly, as though anticipating reproach. + +"There is no objection to that," he said. "At your age you should have a +mind of your own. Use it and I have no fear as to the result. My view is +that in leaving you uninfluenced I have done my duty much more fully +than if I had early impressed upon you ideas which I think pernicious, +and which only the strongest minds can cast aside in later life. What +impression has your Bible reading left?" + +"The Jews of the Old Testament were savages, and their book is +unreadable for horrors. The Gospel narratives seem written by men of +another race. The character of Jesus is very noble. He must have lived, +for he could not have been invented by Jews. Of course, he was not God, +but I don't wonder that his followers thought so." + +"He was a Great Philosopher," answered Monsieur Claghorn with high +approval. "The incarnation of pure stoicism, realizing the ideal more +truly than even Seneca or Marcus. And what of the literary quality of +the book?" + +"The gospels are equal to the Vicar of Wakefield or Paul and Virginia. +As to the rest," she shrugged her shoulders after the French +fashion--"Revelation was written by a maniac." + +"Or a modern poet," observed the gentleman. + +Now while these latest exponents of the Higher Criticism were thus +complacently settling the literary standing of Luke and John, placing +them on as high a level as that attained by Goldsmith and St. Pierre, +the man smoking and the girl sipping wine (for the fish had been +devoured and their remains removed), two persons came into the garden. +They carried knapsacks and canes, wore heavy shoes, were dusty and +travel-stained. The elder of the pair had the clerical aspect; the youth +was simply a very handsome fellow of twenty or thereabout, somewhat +provincial in appearance. + +Beverley Claghorn glanced at the pair, and with an almost imperceptible +shrug of the shoulders, which, if it referred to the newcomers, was not +complimentary, continued to smoke without remark. The girl was more +curious. + +"They are English," she said. + +"Americans," he answered, with a faint shade of disapproval in his +tone. + +"But so are we," she remonstrated, noting the tone. + +"We can't help it," he replied, resenting one of his grievances. "You +can hardly be called one." + +"Is it disgraceful?" + +"Not at all; but I don't flaunt it." + +"But, papa, surely you are not ashamed of it?" + +"Certainly not. But it is a little tiresome. Our countrymen are so +oppressively patriotic. They demand of you that you glory in your +nativity. I don't. I am not proud of it. I shouldn't be proud of being +an Englishman, or a Frenchman, or an Italian, or----" + +"In fact, papa, you are not proud at all." + +"Natalie," proceeded the philosopher, not noticing the interruption, +"one may be well-disposed toward the country of one's birth; one may +even recognize the duty of fighting, if need be, for its institutions. +But the pretence of believing in one's country, of fulsome adoration for +imperfect institutions, is to welcome intellectual slavery, to surrender +to the base instinct of fetichism." + +"Like religion," she said, recognizing the phrase. + +"Like religion," he assented. "You will find when you are as old as I am +that I am right." + +"Yet people do believe in religion. There's Fräulein Rothe----" + +"Natalie, no reasoning being can believe what is called Christianity, +but many beings think that they believe." + +"But why don't they discover that they don't think what they think they +think?" + +"There's nothing strange in that. When they were young they were told +that they believed, and have grown up with that conviction. The same +people would scorn to accept a new and incredible story on the evidence +which is presented in favor of the Christian religion." + +The girl sighed as though the paternal wisdom was somewhat +unsatisfactory. Meantime the slight raising of Monsieur's voice had +attracted the attention of the dusty wayfarers who, in default of other +occupation, took to observing the pair. + +"She is very pretty," said the youth. + +The elder did not answer. He was intently scrutinizing Beverley +Claghorn. After a moment of hesitation he surprised his companion by +rising and approaching that person with outstretched hand. + +"I cannot be mistaken," he exclaimed in a loud, hearty voice. "This is a +Claghorn." + +"That is my name," replied the would-be Gallic owner of the appellation +in English. "I have the honor of seeing----" but even as he uttered the +words he recognized the man who was now shaking a somewhat reluctant +hand with gushing heartiness. + +"I am Jared. You remember me, of course. I see it in your eyes. And so +this is really you--Eliphalet! 'Liph, as we called you at the old Sem. +'Liph, I am as glad to see you as a mother a long-lost son." + +"And I," replied the other, "am charmed." He bore it smiling, though his +daughter looked on in wonder, and he felt that the secret of his baptism +had been heartlessly disclosed. + +"This," said Jared, "is my son, Leonard," and while the son grew red and +bowed, the clergyman looked at the girl to whom his son's bow had been +principally directed. + +"My daughter, Natalie de Fleury-Claghorn," said her father. "My dear, +this is my cousin, Professor Claghorn, whom I have not seen for many +years." + +"Not since we were students together at Hampton Theological Seminary," +added Jared, smilingly. He habitually indulged in a broad smile that +indicated satisfaction with things as he found them. It was very broad +now, as he offered his hand, saying, "And so you are 'Liph's daughter, +and your name is Natalidaflurry--that must be French. And your mother, +my dear, I hope----" + +"My wife has been dead since my daughter's birth," interrupted Monsieur, +"and I," he added, "long ago discarded my baptismal name and assumed +that of my mother." + +"Discarded the old name!" exclaimed the Reverend Jared, surprised. "Had +I been aware of that, I surely would have given it to Leonard. I +regarded it, as in some sort, the property of the elder branch. Surely, +you don't call yourself Susan?" + +"My mother's name was Susan Beverley; I assumed her family name." The +philosopher uttered the words with a suavity that did him credit. Then, +apologetically, and in deference to his cousin's evident grief: "You +see, Eliphalet was somewhat of a mouthful for Frenchmen." + +"And so the old name has fallen into disuse," murmured Jared +regretfully. "We must revive it. Leonard, upon you----" + +But Leonard had taken Natalie to look at the cascades. + +So, lighting fresh cigars, the two former fellow-students commenced a +revival of old memories. Their discourse, especially on the part of the +clergyman, contained frequent allusion to family history, which to the +reader would be both uninteresting and incomprehensible. But, since some +knowledge of that history is requisite to the due understanding of the +tale that is to be told, the respected personage indicated is now +invited to partake of that knowledge. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A COUSIN IN THE COILS OF THE GREAT SERPENT. + + +Professor and the Reverend Jared Claghorn has already intimated that the +name Eliphalet was an honored one in the family. An Eliphalet Claghorn +had been a man of mark among the Pilgrims. His eldest son had borne his +parent's name and had succeeded to the clerical vocation; an example +which he had imposed upon his own first-born, and thus became +established the custom of giving to a son of each Eliphalet the name of +his father, in the pleasing hope that he who bore the revered +appellation might be called to serve in the Lord's fold, as shepherd of +the flock; which hope had generally been realized. In due course that +Eliphalet who was destined to beget Beverley had been called, had +answered the summons, and at the birth of his only son, had, with +confident expectation of a similar call to the latter, named his name +"Eliphalet." + +In time the call was heard. The youth, fully assured that he, like the +ancestral Eliphalets, would find his field of labor in the vineyard of +God, had gone so far in acceptance of his solemn duty as to enter the +well-known Theological Seminary at Hampton, there to fit himself for the +only future he had ever contemplated. + +Then a shock had come,--a great legacy from one of two California +brothers, both long given up as dead. From the moment this fortune came +into his possession, the father of Beverley Claghorn, always a stern and +gloomy man, the product of a ruthless creed, knew no day of peace. He +craved worldly distinction--not the pleasures which beckoned his +son--with a craving which only a starved nature with powers fitting to +the world can know. On the other hand, a rigid sense of duty, perhaps, +too, the gloomy joy of martyrdom, urged him to reject a temptation which +he persuaded himself was offered by the Prince of Darkness. He remained +outwardly true to his duty, an unhappy soldier at the post assigned +him, and died as his fathers had died, in the odor of sanctity; in his +heart hankering to the last for the joys offered by the world to him who +has wealth, and to the last sternly rejecting them. + +Secretly, though with bitter self-condemnation, he had approved his +son's renunciation of the theological course. Not with his lips. It was +impossible for him, stubbornly believing, as he had always believed, +though now with the frequent doubts and fears of the new standpoint he +occupied, to openly approve the intentions displayed by the youth. Yet +he acquiesced in silence, secretly hoping to see the son, who had +commenced the study of the law, a power in the State. That he was never +to see, and it was well that he died before the renegade Eliphalet had +extinguished such hope by voluntary exile. + +Beverley's history, or at least that portion of it which he chose to +impart, was told in reply to the eager questioning of Jared. Perhaps he +was not sorry that his old fellow-student should note his air of man of +fashion and aristocrat, and he set forth the renown of the de Fleury +lineage, innocently shocking his cousin by explaining the meaning and +glory of that bar sinister, which he himself revered. + +Jared, on his part, narrated at much greater length than his auditor +sympathetically appreciated, the history of his own life. He, too, had +married brilliantly--a Morley, as he informed his cousin, and one who, +dying, had left him well endowed with this world's goods, and it may be +that it was by reason of this fact, as well as because of superior +attainments, that the speaker had developed into a teacher in that same +seminary where the two had been fellow-students. + +"Yes," he said in a tone of satisfaction, "I hold down the chair of +Biblical Theology in Hampton. You would hardly recognize the old Sem, +El--Beverley." + +"I suppose not. I shall make a flying trip there some day." + +"A flying trip! Surely you don't intend to abandon your country +forever?" + +"Not unlikely. You see, I am more of a Frenchman than anything else, and +my daughter is quite French." + +"She speaks English?" + +"Oh, as to that, as well as anybody. She has been largely educated in +England. But her relatives, I mean those that she knows, look upon her +as belonging wholly to them, and----" + +"I trust she is not a Romanist, Cousin." + +"You mean a Catholic. Make your mind easy; she is not." + +"I truly rejoice to hear it," exclaimed Jared with fervor. "But I might +have known," he added apologetically, "that a Claghorn would not suffer +the perversion of his child." Whereat Monsieur changed the topic. + +Meanwhile, the young ones of the party had gone to investigate an echo +in a glen hard by, directed thereto by the host of the Red-Ox. They were +conducted by a stolid maiden, told off for that purpose, a fact which +Monsieur Claghorn, from his place in the garden, noted with +satisfaction. + +Freed from the restraint of the presence of the philosopher, whose +raiment and bearing had inspired him with awe, Leonard's engaging +simplicity and frank manner added to the favorable impression of his +beautiful face. + +The charms of nature about them were attractive to both and it was easy +to become acquainted, with so much of interest in common. The girl's +enthusiasm, somewhat dampened by the philosopher, returned in the +presence of a sympathetic listener, and she told the tale of their +wanderings, concluding by expressing the opinion that Germany must be +the most delightful of all countries. + +"This part is fine," said Leonard. "But wait until you see the Black +Forest." + +"I hope to see it when we leave Heidelberg. Is the wine good?" + +"I don't know," was the answer. "I didn't drink any wine." + +"It must be very bad if you wouldn't drink it," she observed +despondently. "Papa scolds about the wine of the Bergstrasse, which, for +my part, I find very good. Then, at the better inns one isn't confined +to the vintage of the neighborhood." + +"Surely, you don't drink wine!" exclaimed Leonard. + +"Not drink wine! What should I do with it?" + +"It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder," he quoted +gravely, not at all priggishly. He was sincere in his confidence in +Solomon, and his surprise and sorrow were honest. + +"Wine does!" she laughed. "I never knew that before. Don't Americans +drink wine?" + +"Some do," he admitted. "Our best people do not drink. We think the +example bad." + +"_Par example!_ And how do your best people manage at dinner?" + +"With water." + +"Decidedly, I should not like dining with your best people." + +"But, Cousin Natalie--that is a very pretty name;" here he blushed +engagingly--"wine makes one drunk." + +"Certainly, if one gets drunk." + +"Then, how can you drink wine?" + +The question and the serious manner of its asking were incomprehensible +to the girl, who laughed at the incongruity of the ideas suggested by +drinking wine on the one hand, and getting drunk on the other. Then the +subject was dropped; perhaps they recognized that it was enveloped in +clouds of misunderstanding which were impenetrable. + +The glen in which dwells the echo of Forellenbach is like a roofless +cave, or a great well with a side entrance. Its floor being wet, Natalie +remained at the entrance, trusting there to hear whatever might be worth +hearing. Leonard passed into the well. + +He looked back. She stood in the light, smiling upon this new-found +cousin, who had such strange ideas as to wine, but withal, her eyes were +kindly. If either had any premonition of the future, it must have been +false or partial, or they had not faced each other smiling. He had +intended to shout aloud her pretty name and thus to test the echo; but +instinct warned him that this was hardly fitting. So, perhaps, with a +vague desire to connect her with the trial, he compromised, and the word +he shouted was "Claghorn." + +It was returned to him in various modulations from all sides. The +effect was startling, but even more so were the words that fell upon his +ear as the echoes died away: "Who are you, and what do you want?" + +The question came from above. Leonard, looking upward, saw the face of a +youth who, from the top of the cliff, was peering down. Upon the head of +this person, rakishly worn, was a blue cap, braided with silver and red +velvet. The face had penetrating eyes, rather stern, and a mouth shaded +by a dark moustache. The question was repeated, it seemed to Leonard +truculently: "What do you want?" + +The words were German, but easily understood. Leonard answered in +English: "I don't want you." + +"Then, why did you call me?" Now the words were English and the tone +awakened Leonard's resentment. "Do you suppose that every one that tries +the echo is calling you?" he asked. + +"You called me. Why?" + +Leonard labored under the disadvantage of hearing all that was said +repeated many times. It was irritating; nor was the tone of the other +pacific. It was even war-like. "I didn't address you," he said. "I do +now: Be silent!" + +The other laughed. "_Bist ein dummer Junge_, my son," he said. "I +suppose you are a student. Get your card." + +He disappeared, evidently with a view of intercepting Leonard who, +emerging from the cave, met him almost at Natalie's side. + +The newcomer was surprised to see the girl. "I beg your pardon," he +said, removing his cap; then, aside to Leonard: "I will accept your card +on another occasion, if you prefer. You are a student of Heidelberg, I +suppose?" + +"I am a student, certainly, of Hampton, in the United States. I have no +card. My name is Claghorn." + +The sternness of the newcomer gave place to astonishment. "I beg your +pardon, and your sister's," he said, glancing at Natalie. "My name +happens to be the same. Naturally, I supposed----" + +"The place seems to be alive with Claghorns," exclaimed Leonard. + +"And since you are from Hampton, I believe we are related," continued +the newcomer. "Cousins, I suppose. You can't be Professor Claghorn?" + +"I can be, and am, his son," laughed Leonard. "You are the third cousin +I have found to-day." + +By this time the two elders had joined the party. Monsieur Claghorn had +deemed it advisable, for his daughter's sake, to follow her footsteps. +The Reverend Jared, accompanying him, heard Leonard's words. "A cousin!" +he exclaimed, looking inquiringly at the stranger who made the claim, +and ready gushingly to welcome him. + +"I think so," answered the stranger, smiling. "My father was Joseph +Claghorn, of San Francisco." + +"He's your first cousin, 'Liph," exclaimed the Reverend Jared, +hesitating no longer, but grasping the unoffered hand of the son of +Joseph. Then he added in an awestruck voice, "You must be the owner of +the Great Serpent?" + +"I am in its coils," replied the young man with a half sigh. + +"Wonderful!" ejaculated Jared, and then glibly plunged into a +genealogical disquisition for the general benefit, the result of which +was that Claghorn, the son of Joseph, and in the coils of the Great +Serpent, stood demonstrated as the first cousin of Beverley, the second +of Natalie, the third of himself and the fourth of Leonard. The +professorial fluency had the good effect of creating enough hilarity to +dissipate constraint; and its cordiality embraced all present in a +circle of amity, whether they would or not. + +But there was no indication of reluctance to cousinly recognition. +Monsieur saw sufficient comedy in the situation to amuse him, nor was he +oblivious of the fascinations of the Great Serpent, which reptile was a +mine, known by repute to all present, and the source of Monsieur's +wealth, for that inheritance that had changed the course of his life had +been thence derived. The dead brother of the now dead Eliphalet had left +his share of the mine to Joseph, his partner, but had divided his +savings between Eliphalet and a sister, Achsah by name. The son of +Joseph, and owner of the Great Serpent, must be in the eyes of anybody +the acceptable person he was in the eyes of Monsieur Claghorn, the more +so as he was thoroughly presentable, being handsome, well dressed, and +with rather more of the air of a man of the world than was usual in one +of his years, which might be twenty-one. + +"We have not learned your Christian name," said Jared, after +acquaintance had been established and the youth had been duly informed +of much family history. "I hope your parents named you Eliphalet," +glancing, not without reproach, at the actual owner of that appellation. + +"They spared me that infliction," answered the newcomer, laughing, +"though they hit me pretty hard. My name is Mark"; then, perhaps noting +the faint flush upon the cheek of one of the members of the group, "I +beg pardon; I should have been more respectful of a respectable family +name, which may be borne by some one of you." + +"Nobody bears it; you are to be congratulated," observed Monsieur +firmly. The Reverend Jared looked grieved, but said nothing. + +Mark Claghorn informed his auditors--there was no escaping the +examination of the Professor--that he was a student at Heidelberg, that +his mother sojourned there with him, that she was a widow, with an +adopted daughter, a distant connexion, named Paula; and having learned +that the entire party was bound for that city he expressed the hope that +all these wandering offshoots of the Claghorn family might there meet +and become better acquainted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE DIVERSIONS OF THE CLAGHORNS. + + +A good-humored widow, fair, and if mature, not old, and with the +allurement of the possession of boundless wealth; two lovely maids; a +brace of well-disposed young men, of whom one was strikingly beautiful +and guileless, the other less comely as less innocent, yet in these +respects not deficient, and the heir of millions; finally, a genial +theologian and a philosopher, summer and Heidelberg--given these +components and it must be confessed that the impromptu reunion of the +Claghorns promised present enjoyment and gratifying memories for the +future. The various members of the clan acted as if they so believed and +were content. There were moments, indeed, when the genial Jared was +moved to bewail the absence of Miss Achsah Claghorn, as being the only +notable member of the family not present. The philosopher admitted a +youthful acquaintance with the lady in question, who was his aunt, and +echoed the Professor's eulogy, but evinced resignation. To the others, +except to Leonard, who had evidently been taught to revere Miss Achsah, +she was personally unknown, hence the loss occasioned by her absence was +by them unfelt. + +"She is greatly exercised just now," observed Jared, "by an event which +possesses interest for all of us, and which ought to especially interest +you, 'Liph." + +"Salvation for the heathen by means of moral pocket handkerchiefs?" +drawled the philosopher, secretly annoyed by the clergyman's persistent +use of his discarded Christian name. + +"_She_ says a sacrilegious scheme; nothing short of the desecration of +your namesake's grave," retorted the Professor. + +The party was grouped on the great terrace of the castle, against the +balustrade of which the clergyman leaned as he addressed his audience +with somewhat of the air of a lecturer, an aspect which was emphasized +by his use of a letter which he had drawn from his pocket, and to which +he pointed with his long forefinger. + +"You are all doubtless aware," he observed, "that Miss Achsah is the +sister of the late Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn, father of our cousin and +friend here present" (indicating Monsieur, who bowed to the speaker), +"and, as the sister of your deceased husband, Mrs. Joseph, she is your +sister-in-law." + +The lady smilingly assented to a proposition indisputable, and which +probably contained no element of novelty to her; while Jared informed +Mark and Natalie that the writer of the letter in his hand was aunt to +the youth and great-aunt to the maiden. "She is also cousin to me, and +in a further remove to Leonard," and having thus defined the status of +Miss Claghorn, he proceeded to explain that he had reminded his hearers +of the facts for the reason that the matter concerning which the lady's +letter treated was of interest to all present, "except to you, my dear," +he added sympathizingly to Paula, "you not being a Claghorn." + +"We compassionate you, Mademoiselle," observed the philosopher to the +damsel, "and I am sure," he added in a lower tone, "you are sorry for +us." To which, Paula, who did not quite understand the philosopher, +responded only with a smile and a blush. + +"Miss Achsah's letter," continued the Professor, ignoring the by-play, +and addressing Mrs. Joe, is dated two months since, and runs thus: + +"'I wrote in my last of the strange events taking place in Easthampton. +At that time there were only rumors; now there are facts to go upon. The +tract given by our ancestor to the Lord is at this moment the property +of a New York lawyer. You know that I long ago tried to buy the tomb and +was refused. The trustees assure me that it will not be desecrated, that +the purchaser promised of his own accord that the sacred dust should not +be disturbed. I told them that they might advantageously take lessons in +reverence from the lawyer, so there is a coolness between the trustees +and myself.' (I am really very sorry for that," muttered the reader +parenthetically)---- + +"As I understand," interrupted Mrs. Joe, "the land was owned by the +Seminary, and the Seminary which is now in Hampton was to have been +built upon it. Is that what my sister-in-law means by saying it was +given to the Lord?" + +"Her view is not exactly correct," replied the Professor. "I am myself +one of the trustees. Possibly, Eliphalet Claghorn hoped that the +Seminary would eventually be erected upon the land he gave toward its +foundation. Evidently his successors, the fathers of the church, +preferred Hampton to Easthampton." + +"In those days Easthampton was a busy mart of trade--they _do_ say the +slave trade," observed the philosopher. "Hampton, as a secluded village, +not liable to incursions of enslaved heathen, godless sailors or godly +traders, was better fitted for pious and scholastic meditation, and----" + +"Now the conditions are reversed," interrupted Jared; "Hampton is a +considerable city, Easthampton a quiet suburb." + +"Does Miss Achsah say what the lawyer intends to do with his purchase?" +asked Mrs. Joe. + +"No doubt he represents a concealed principal," suggested the +philosopher, "probably a rival institution--a Jesuit College." + +Jared turned pale. "You don't really suppose, 'Liph--but, no! I am sure +my co-trustees could not be taken in." + +Mrs. Joe cast a reproachful glance at the philosopher. "Miss Achsah +would surely have detected a Jesuit plot had there been one," she +observed encouragingly. "But why is she so indignant?" + +"She has long wanted to purchase the ground about the tomb," replied +Jared. "Naturally, she feels aggrieved that it will come into the hands +of a stranger. The trustees, to my knowledge, tried to retain it, with +the rest of the waste ground, and to sell only the old wharves and +houses, but the lawyer insisted; in fact, paid a high price for the +waste land which includes the grave." + +"Mysterious, if not Jesuitical," murmured Beverley; but the clergyman +affected not to hear. + +"Has Miss Achsah no knowledge of the intentions of the purchaser?" asked +the lady. + +"This is what she says," answered the Professor, consulting the letter: + +"'The trustees conceal the purpose for which the land is wanted, but I +forced the information from Hacket when I informed him that, if I so +desired, I could give the management of my affairs to young Burley. At +this, Mr. Hacket came down from his high horse and informed me in +confidence that the lawyer is to build a grand residence at the Point, +and will spend an immense amount of money. All of which is not +reassuring, if true. Although the place has been shamefully neglected, I +was always glad to know that the Tomb was there, solitary amid the +crags; only the sea-roar breaking the silence. I suppose there will be +other sounds now, not so pleasant to think about.'" + +"Well," observed Mrs. Joe, after a pause, "let us hope that Miss Achsah +will be reconciled after the lawyer's plans are more fully developed. He +seems to be willing to respect the tomb." + +"What is this tomb?" asked Natalie. + +"The Tomb of Eliphalet Claghorn, the first of your race in the New +World," explained the Professor reverently, and not without a +reproachful glance at the philosopher, who had too evidently left his +daughter in ignorance of much family history. + +"He came over in the Mayflower," observed Leonard in a low tone to +Natalie; and then, to his surprise, found it necessary to explain his +explanation, for which purpose, in company with the girl he strolled +away. + +They paused at a little distance, and leaning upon the stone balustrade, +looked down upon the town or at the plain beyond, or across the Neckar +at the hills of the Philosophenweg. Here Leonard told his foreign cousin +the story of the first Eliphalet. + +"A strange story," was her comment. + +"A noble story," he corrected. + +"All sacrifice is noble. I know a woman in extreme poverty who gave ten +francs to regild a tawdry statue of the Virgin." + +"Deplorable!" exclaimed Leonard severely. + +"Pitiful, rather. Consider what the sum was to her! The needs she +sacrificed--and for what?" + +"Sacrifice wasted, and degradingly wasted." + +"Wasted, doubtless; but why degradingly?" + +"Granted that your poor woman was sincere"--which, however, the speaker +seemed to grant but grudgingly--"the sacrifice was still degrading in +that it was made to superstition." + +She smiled. "What would my poor woman say of Grandfather Eliphalet?" + +"It's a question, you see, of the point of view," observed Mark, who had +sauntered to where they stood. + +"It's a question of truth and falsehood," retorted Leonard a little +stiffly, and not best pleased with the interruption of the tête-à-tête. + +"Do you know the truth?" + +"God is truth." + +"A truly theological elucidation," said Mark. + +"What do you say, Cousin Natalie?" asked Leonard wistfully. + +She had been gazing across the plain at the towers of Ladenburg, +gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. "Can anybody say?" she +answered. "Look at the plain," she added, stretching forth her hand, +"these battered walls, the city at our feet. How often have they been +scorched by fire and soaked in blood; and always in the cause of that +truth which so many said was false!" + +"Rather, because of the schemes of ambitious men," said Leonard. + +"The pretext was always religion. Priests always the instigators of the +wars," said Mark. + +"Priests, yes, I grant you----" + +"I include those of the Reformation. The bloodiest history of this place +is its history since the Reformation. The source of its horrors was +religion, always religion." + +"For which reason," retorted Leonard, "you would blame religion, rather +than the men who made it a cloak to ambition." + +"One asks: What is religion?" said Natalie. "Catholics say of Frederick, +who reigned here, that he was led by ambition to his fall; Protestants, +that he fell a glorious sacrifice in the cause of truth. Who shall +judge?" + +"False ideas of duty lead to perdition," said Leonard sententiously. + +"Which would seem to demonstrate that Frederick was in the wrong," +observed Mark. "That may be so, but it hardly lies in the mouth of a +student of Hampton." + +"Of course, I know that Frederick was the Protestant champion," said +Leonard, annoyed; "but----" + +"Yet he lost his cause! How can one know--how do you know the truth?" +The girl looked up with an eager expression as she asked the question. + +"I know because I feel it," he answered in a low tone. They were solemn +words to him, and as he uttered them a longing to show truth to this +fair maid arose within him. + +"And if one does not know, one cannot feel," murmured Natalie sadly. +"Catholics, Jews, Protestants, all feel and all know----" + +"That the others are all wrong," interjected Mark. + +Meanwhile, the others of the party were approaching, the Professor +expatiating to Paula anent the glories of the Claghorn race; not such +glories, as he pointed out, as those of which they saw the evidences in +the effigies of warriors and carved armorial bearings; but higher +glories, humble deeds on earth, of which the story illuminated the +celestial record. The dissertation had been commenced for the general +weal, but the widow and the philosopher had gradually dropped behind, +leaving Paula alone to derive benefit from the lessons drawn by Cousin +Jared from the Claghorn history as contrasted with that of the rulers of +the Palatinate. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +HOW A PAGAN PHILOSOPHER ENTERED THE SERVICE OF THE CHURCH. + + +"I fear you do not sympathize with Miss Achsah," observed the widow to +her companion. + +"In her solicitude for the tomb of Grandfather Eliphalet? No. Reverence +for my ancestor has diminished with age; my excellent aunt, as befits a +lady, remains ever young and romantic." + +"She ought to appreciate the lawyer's declared intention to respect the +grave." + +"Handsome of the lawyer, who, _du reste_, seems an anomaly." + +"How so?" + +"He pays an extravagant price for a dreary desert. He volunteers to keep +a stranger's tomb in repair----" + +"Suppose I were to tell you that I am the lawyer who is to build the +handsome residence." + +"I should feel honored by your confidence, and unreservedly put my trust +in your motives, because they are yours." + +"But you are not surprised?" + +"Rather deeply interested, and no less solicitous." + +"Why solicitous?" + +"Because of the incongruity you present as a resident of Easthampton. +That little town is not merely the sepulchre of Eliphalet Claghorn, but +the grave of mirth and the social graces. Can I contemplate the +possibility of your interment without sorrow?" + +The gentleman's tone had lapsed into tenderness; the lady smiled. "I +believe you have not seen the place for many years," she said. + +"Nothing has prevented my doing so except my recollection of its +attractions." + +"The ground I intend for a residence," said the lady, "has great +natural advantages. It faces the ocean, has noble trees----" + +"And crags and boulders, a most desolate spot." + +"Which a handsome house will adorn and make beautiful. We must live +somewhere. If we leave California, what better place can we choose than +the old home of my son's race, where his name has been honored for +generations? In that region he will not be a new man." + +"An old one, assuredly, if he remains there. But he will flee from the +home of his ancestors. The place is sunk in somnolence; one of those +country towns that the world has been glad to forget. Rotting wharves, a +few tumbledown warehouses, and three or four streets, shaded by trees so +big that even the white houses with their green blinds look gloomy." + +"The wharves and warehouses are mine, and are to be pulled down. I like +the shady streets and the white houses." + +"And their inmates?" The philosopher shuddered. + +"The Claghorn paragon, Miss Achsah, lives in one of them." + +"Ah, Miss Achsah! You do not know Miss Achsah; she superintended my +boyhood." + +"The result is a tribute to her excellence." + +The gentleman bowed. "She is a good woman--the personification of Roman +virtue, adorned with the graces of Calvinism--but, my dear Cousin" (the +lady was his aunt, if anything), "I put it to you. Is not personified +virtue most admirable at a distance?" + +The lady laughed. "Possibly. But I do not expect to be reduced to +virtuous society only, even if I am fortunate enough to prove acceptable +in the eyes of Miss Claghorn. Our Professor assures me that the Hampton +circle is most agreeable; and Hampton and Easthampton are practically +one." + +"And what a one!" The philosopher shrugged his shoulders in true Gallic +fashion. "Madame, Hampton is the home of theology--and such theology! It +is filled with musty professors, their musty wives and awkward and +conceited boys, in training to become awkward and conceited men. +Remember, I was one of the horde and know whereof I speak. Think +seriously, my dear Cousin, before you expose so beautiful a girl as +Mademoiselle Paula, not to speak of yourself, to such an environment." + +The lady remained unmoved, though the gentleman had pleaded eloquently. +"You are prejudiced," she answered. "Confess that there is no more +agreeable man than our Cousin Jared; and if his son is a fair specimen +of Hampton students, they must compare favorably with any others." + +"Which would not be saying much. Jared is, doubtless, a good fellow, +amenable once, but now encrusted with frightfully narrow views. As to +young Leonard, his extraordinary good looks and amiability render him +exceptional. It is really a pity that he can't be rescued," and the +speaker sighed. + +A sigh born of a sincere sentiment. Monsieur was at bottom good-natured, +and it affected him disagreeably to see unusual graces doomed to a +pulpit or a professorial chair. It was a sad waste of advantages fitted +for better things. To dedicate to Heaven charms so apt for the world, +seemed to him foolish, and to the devotee unfair. He felt as may feel a +generous beauty whose day is past, and who contemplates some blooming +maid about to enter a nunnery. "Ah! _Si la jeunesse savait_," he +murmured. + +"You will not resolve without deliberation," he pleaded, having rendered +to Leonard's fate the passing tribute of a sigh. "I dare not venture to +beg you to wait until after your winter in Paris, but----" + +"But, Monsieur, my resolve is fixed, though known only to you. Work is +already commenced. But I must request you to keep the secret from all, +including my son. I wish to surprise him." + +"Your success is certain. It would be presumptuous to further combat +your plans; especially"--with a graceful inclination--"since you disarm +me by honoring me with your confidence." + +"I have a reason for that," she said frankly. "I want your aid." + +"In self-immolation! Even in that I am at your service." + +"My purpose can be explained in a few words," she said, indicating a +chair near the balustrade, into which the philosopher gracefully sank, +after bowing the lady into one beside it. "I wish to build a grand +house. My son's importance in the world is an attribute of his wealth. +This is not a fact to flaunt, but is to be considered, and one by which +I am bound to be influenced in contemplating his future." + +"A great aid, Madame, in right conduct." + +"My son will find it a great responsibility." + +"Inheriting, as he does, your sense of duty," suggested the philosopher. + +"Precisely. Now, I have planned a career for Mark." + +There was a faint movement as of a fleeting smile behind Monsieur's +well-trimmed moustache. The sharp-eyed lady noticed it, but was not +disconcerted. + +"I recognize the possibility of my plans coming to naught," she said. +"That need not prevent my attempt to realize them. I see but one career +open to my son; he must become a statesman." + +"In Easthampton?" + +"In the United States. It is his country. Pardon me," seeing him about +to interpose. "It is not on this point I ask the aid you are willing to +accord. That refers to my contemplated operations in Easthampton. It +happens, however, that my son's future will depend, in no small measure, +upon the enterprises in question. His great need will be identification +with local interests, to which end a fixed habitation is necessary. I +wish to build a house which will attract attention. To put it bluntly, I +intend to advertise my son by means of my house." + +"You will extort the sympathetic admiration of your compatriots." + +"I shall not be as frank with them as with you. You will know that mere +display is not my object." + +"Yours merits admiration, even while it extorts regret." + +"And now you see why Easthampton is peculiarly adapted to the end in +view. No man can point to Mark Claghorn and ask, 'Who is he?' His name +was carved in that region two centuries since." + +"But you and your son are, I believe, liberal in your religious views. +The Claghorns----" + +"Have always kept the faith--with one notable exception"--the +philosopher bowed acceptance of the compliment--"but I object to being +called liberal, as you define the term; we are Catholics, that is to +say, Anglicans." + +"Humph!" muttered the philosopher dubiously. + +"And I intend," pursued the lady, "to proclaim my creed by an act which +I know is daring, but which will have the advantage of rooting my son +and his descendants in the soil of Easthampton. I intend to build, to +the memory of my husband, a High-Church chapel, a work of art that shall +be unequalled in the country." + +"Daring, indeed! Rash----" + +"Not rash; but were it so, I should still do that which I have planned. +My husband longed to return to the home of his boyhood, had fully +resolved on purchasing the Seminary tract. He shall sleep where his +ancestor sleeps." She turned her head to conceal a tear; the philosopher +turned his to conceal a smile. + +"In this pious and appropriate design, my dear Cousin," he murmured---- + +"I shall have your sympathy; I was sure of it. I want more; I want your +aid." + +In view of its wealthy source the suggestion was not alarming. The +gentleman promised it to the extent of his poor powers, intimating, +however, that connubial fidelity might conflict with maternal ambition, +a result which he deprecated as deplorable. + +Mrs. Joe had, she said, fully considered that possibility. "Suppose you +are right," she answered to the philosopher's argument, "even if Hampton +is the home of bigotry, boldness always commands sympathy. My chapel +will lend importance to a town which mourns a lost prestige. It will be +talked about from one end of the State to the other; and I intend that +the Seminary shall be my right hand, the Church--my church, my left----" + +"And both hands full!" + +She blushed. "Of course, I shall use my advantages. The Seminary is the +centre of much religious effort, which, as a Christian, I shall be glad +to aid. It is the centre of influence, which I hope to share. Under my +roof the representatives of differing creeds shall meet in harmony and +acquire mutual respect. Should it happen that my son be politically +objectionable because of my chapel--why, in such a condition of affairs +the liberalism that is always latent where bigotry flourishes would +spring to his aid, and find in him a leader." + +"Madame!" exclaimed the gentleman, "you will win." + +"I hope so," she replied, pleased at the admiration she had extorted. +"And now, you shall be told how you can aid me. Paris is an art centre; +there are to be found the people I shall need in regard to my plans +concerning the chapel. I am resolved that this shall be so noble an +edifice that the voice of detraction shall never be heard. Next winter +we shall meet in Paris. Will you, so far as may be, prepare the way for +my access to the places and people I desire to see?" + +"Assuredly. I shall enter upon the task assigned me with admiration for +your plans and sincere devotion to your interests," Thus, with his hand +upon his heart and with an inclination of true Parisian elegance, the +philosopher entered the service of Mrs. Joe, and of the Church. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ART, DIPLOMACY, LOVE AND OTHER THINGS. + + +Thus in amity dwelt the Claghorns, employing the summer days in innocent +diversion. Many were the expeditions to points of interest; to +Neckarsteinach and the Robbers' Nest, to the village of Dilsberg, +perched upon the peak which even the bold Tilly had found unconquerable +in peasant hands; to Handschuhsheim, where sleeps the last of his race, +the boy-lord slain in duel with the fierce Baron of Hirschhorn, who +himself awaits the judgment in the crypt of St. Kilian, at Heilbronn, +holding in his skeleton hand a scroll, telling how the Mother's Curse +pursued him to where he lies; to the Black Forest, now so smiling, but +which Cæsar found dark, cold and gloomy, with its later memories of +ruthless knights whose monuments are the grim ruins that crown the +vineclad hills, and with present lore of gnomes and brownies. In these +simple pleasures youth and maiden, philosopher, theologian and worldly +widow joined with the emotions befitting their years and +characteristics. To Natalie it was a time of intense delight, shared +sympathetically by Paula, but more serenely. Mark enjoyed keenly, yet +with rare smiles and with an underlying seriousness in which an observer +might have detected a trace of the trail of the Great Serpent. Leonard, +seldom absent from the side of his French cousin, delighted in the novel +scenes and the companionship, but at times was puzzled by Natalie's +capacity to live in a past that, as he pointed out, was better dead, +since in its worst aspect it had been a time of barbarism, in its best +of fanaticism. He could not understand the longing and liking for a day +when if knights were bold they were also boorish, when if damosels were +fair they were also ignorant of books, and perchance of bathtubs. He +stared in innocent wonder at Natalie's exclamation of deprecation and +Mark's harsh laugh when he pointed out such undeniable facts. To him +Hans von Handschuhsheim, lying dead upon the steps of the Church of the +Holy Ghost, his yellow locks red with blood, and the fierce Hirschhorn +wiping his blade as he turned his back upon his handiwork--to Leonard +this was a drunken brawl of three centuries since, and it grieved him to +see in Natalie a tendency to be interested in the "vulgar details of +crime." He knew that the girl lived in the gloom of irreligion (he was +not aware that she dwelt in the outer darkness of ignorance), and he +sighed as he noted one result of her unhappy lack; and he never knelt at +his bedside forgetful of the fact, or of his duty in relation thereto. + +As to the elders of the party, they enjoyed the present after the +fashion of those whose days of dreaming have passed. Cousin Jared's +broad smile of satisfaction was only absent when, in the heat of +disputation, the philosopher was especially sacrilegious or aggravating, +and even so, it was easily recalled by the tact of the widow, much of +whose time was spent in keeping the peace between the two +fellow-students of bygone years. As for the philosopher, he secretly +pined for the Boulevard, though he, too, found distraction, one favorite +amusement being to disturb the usual serenity of Paula by cynical +witticisms, totally incomprehensible to the simple maiden. + +The day of separation came at length, the first to depart being the +mature and the budding theologian. Adieux were interchanged at the +railway station, and many hopes as to future meetings were expressed, as +well as satisfaction that chance had brought about a reunion so +unexpected. No doubt these expressions were sincere, yet it is possible +that as to clergyman and philosopher, each recognized in secret that +their real adieux had been uttered years before. Under the +circumstances, and with Mrs. Joe as a new link, the old chain had +served; but at heart the two were antagonists; the chain was worn out. + +"Not altogether a bad sort, Jared," observed M. Claghorn, as he walked +from the station and by the side of Mrs. Joe along the Anlage. + +"A thoroughly good fellow." + +He smiled. It was faint praise. He said to himself complacently that +she would not characterize himself as "a good fellow," whereas, the +politician at his side, however she might have described her companion, +regarded the departed Jared as of greater value to her plans, which had +not been confided to him, than could be the philosopher in whom she had +confided. + +The two girls and Mark, following their elders, also interchanged views +concerning the travelers. The verdict as to Cousin Jared, though less +irreverently expressed, was similar to that enunciated by the widow. The +good-hearted theologian had won the regard of all. + +"And as for Leonard," observed Paula, "he is the handsomest boy I ever +saw." + +"And as amiable as beautiful," averred Natalie. + +"As well as a little--shall we say 'verdant'?" suggested Mark. But the +girls either denied the verdancy, or, if they admitted the charge in +part, maintained it was an added excellence. + +Meanwhile, the travelers contemplated one another from opposite sides of +their railway carriage, the consciousness of leaving a strange world and +re-entering their old one already making itself felt. To the elder man +the change was neither startling nor very painful, but to Leonard it was +both. He did not try to analyze his feelings, but there was a dead +weight at his heart, a sorrow heavier than the natural regret at +parting. It was long before he spoke. "I am so glad that our cousin, +Natalie, though French, is not Catholic," he said, at length. + +"I fear she is worse," was the answer. + +"What could be worse?" + +"Total unbelief," replied his father solemnly; and the weight at +Leonard's heart grew heavier. + +During the short remainder of M. Claghorn's stay at Heidelberg--already +prolonged far beyond the original intention--it was arranged that he +should select for the widow suitable quarters for her winter +establishment at Paris; and so willing was the gentleman to be of +service, that, to his great satisfaction, he received _carte blanche_ +for the purpose, and, Natalie accompanying him, departed with the +resolve that the owners of the Great Serpent should be lodged in +accordance with the just demands of that magnificent reptile, having in +view, among other aspirations, the dazzling of the House of Fleury by +the brilliance of the House of Claghorn. + +As to those other aspirations, enough to say that they were by no means +compatible with the loyalty he had professed for the pious plans of Mrs. +Joe. He had not forgotten that the noble arms of the Marquise de Fleury +were open to receive his daughter; but under existing conditions he was +willing to be coy. He remembered with satisfaction that he had not +irrevocably committed himself to a matrimonial alliance which still +possessed attractions: though in the presence of the dazzling +possibilities now offered, it behooved him to avoid precipitation. And +so reasonable was this position that he did not hesitate to disclose it +to the Marquise, simultaneously exculpating himself and assuaging the +lady's resentment by dangling before her the glittering possibilities +presented by Paula Lynford, whom he, with politic inaccuracy, described +as the actual daughter of Mrs. Claghorn, hence inferentially a +co-inheritor, with Mark, of the golden product of the Great Serpent. + +"_Tiens_, Adolphe!" exclaimed the lady to her son, after having listened +to the entrancing tale told by the philosopher, "Heaven has heard my +prayers," and she repeated the unctuous story. + +"Over a million of _dot_! It is monstrous, mama." + +"For these people a bagatelle. Their gold mine yields a thousand francs +a minute." + +"These incredible Americans!" + +"There is also a son, one Marc, about your age----" + +"Aha, I see! M. Claghorn destines Natalie----" + +"Precisely." + +The little lieutenant wagged his head. It was the tribute to a dying +love. From infancy he had been taught by his mama that in Natalie he +beheld the future mother of the de Fleurys. Since infancy he had seen +her but rarely, and on such occasions, being admonished by his mama, had +concealed his passion from its object; but thus repressed, it had +bubbled forth in other channels. He had written and declaimed sonnets; +he had shed tears to a captured photograph of Natalie in pantalettes. +The gusts of consuming passion which, in the presence of his _amis de +college_, had swept sirocco-like across his soul, had extorted the sigh +of envy and the tear of sympathy; from other friends, notably from +Celestine, Claire and Annette, these manifestations had extorted shrieks +of laughter, which, however, had moved him, not to indignation, but to +pity, for in these damsels he saw but butterflies of love, unable to +comprehend a _grande passion_. + +It was, then, not without a fitting and manly sigh that the Marquis de +Fleury surrendered the love of his youth in obedience to his mama and +the motto of his house, which was "Noblesse Oblige," and, having +procured from Natalie a photograph of Paula, he did homage before it as +to "_la belle Lanforre_" in person, besides altering an old sonnet which +had already seen service, and finding that Lynford, or as he would have +it, "Lanforre," rhymed sufficiently well with Amor. + +Meanwhile, the philosopher having diplomatically engaged the services of +the Marquise, the noble lady proceeded to perform with zeal the task +assigned her. _La belle France_, home of romance and last citadel of +chivalry, is also business-like, and its sons and daughters of whatever +rank are deft manipulators of the honest penny. In negotiating for the +luxurious apartment of a diplomat about to proceed to Spain for a +sojourn of some months, and in dealing with furnishers of all +description, from laundry to livery men, the noble lady provided herself +with pocket-money for some time to come; a seasonable relief to the +over-strained resources of the House of Fleury. + +"_Tiens_," exclaimed Adolphe to his mama, Mrs. Claghorn being already +installed in the diplomatic quarters, "this desire of Madame Zho to +inspect churches--how do you explain it?" + +"She is _dévote_. Doubtless she has sinned. She wishes to erect in her +own country an expiatory chapel." + +Which explanation, evolved from information derived from the +philosopher, aided by the speaker's fancy, elucidated the mystery +contained in the patronymic "Lanforre," borne by Paula. "_Sans doute_," +mused the Marquise, "_la mère_, being American, was _divorcée_. The +daughter is the child of the first husband." Which theory sufficed +until the later arrival of Mark, who, as being palpably older than +Paula, drove the lady to evolve another, which, fortunately, in the +interest of harmony, was not confided to "Madame Zho," but which not +only explained, but demanded the expiatory chapel. + +Mrs. Claghorn threw herself into her pious work with a zeal which +extorted the approbation of the Marquise, who, as we know, was herself a +religious woman, but which to the philosopher was less admirable, since +it interfered with deep-laid plans with which it was incompatible. He +was somewhat consoled, however, by the fact that the lady's course +facilitated an intimacy which was favorable to the realization of less +secret hopes; wherefore he vied with the Marquise in forwarding the +pious cause of the widow by surrounding that lady with an artistic host, +whereof the members received comforting orders for plans and paintings, +designs and drawings, and were refreshed by a golden shower whereof the +Marquise had her quiet but legitimate share. + +The philosopher contented himself with the post of chief adviser and +sole confidant of the beneficent lady. For, though her intention to +erect a chapel could not be concealed, the locality of the realization +of her plans remained a secret, and was, in fact, privately regarded by +Mark,--where the philosopher hoped it would remain,--as poesy hath it, +in the air. + +Meanwhile, the comparative freedom of intercourse which reigned among +the younger members of the party was approved by the Marquise as an +American custom sanctioned, under the circumstances, by heaven, as an +aid in its answer to her prayers; but the little lieutenant, like a dog +that has slipped its leash, was puzzled by an unaccustomed liberty, and +found himself unable to conduct himself gracefully in a novel role. He +knew that the joyous freedom befitting intercourse with Claire and +Celestine was not the tone for present conditions, but for similar +conditions he knew no other. If, after preliminary negotiation on the +part of his elders, he had been introduced into the presence of the +object of his love, himself clad _en frac_, and had found his adored +robed in white and carefully disposed upon a fauteuil--with the +properties thus arranged, he felt he could have borne himself worthily +as one acceptable and with honorable intentions. But thus to be allowed +to approach the object of a passion (which, he assured his mama, was now +at a white heat), to converse familiarly, surrounding ears being +inattentive and surrounding eyes uninterested; to be expected to +interchange views freely pronounced by lips such as he had supposed were +silent until unsealed by matrimony--these things puzzled and embarrassed +him. Perhaps it was fortunate that such attempts as he made to tell his +love were not understood by the object of his devotion. Paula's +understanding of French, though it had achieved plaudits and prizes at +school, did not suffice for the purpose, and the lieutenant was innocent +of any modern language other than his own, while against his frequent +efforts of an ocular character Paula's serenity was proof, though +occasionally disturbed by the manifestations of that which she supposed +was a severe nervous disorder of the eyes of her companion, and for +which she pitied him; and, as to the sonnet which he slipped into her +hand, it being beyond her construing powers, she handed it to Mrs. Joe, +who read it and laughed. + +But though she laughed at a production designed to draw tears, but for +it, she had probably paid little heed to an occurrence which about this +time attracted her attention. + +She was in the Church of St. Roch, Paula at her side, and, near at hand, +Mark and Natalie. St. Roch is an ancient and gloomy edifice, and the +lady had found no suggestions for her chapel in its sombre interior. She +turned to leave, when her attention was arrested by a tableau. Natalie's +hand rested upon Mark's shoulder, and both stood as if transfixed, and +gazing at something which Mrs. Joe could not see. + +Had it not been for the sonnet and the reflections to which it had given +rise, she would have at once admitted the palpable fact that the girl, +absorbed by that upon which she gazed, was oblivious of the touch with +which she had involuntarily arrested the steps of her companion. With +head bent forward, her faculties were enchained by that which she saw +with eyes in which wonder, compassion and wistful yearning were +combined. + +It was a young woman upon whom the girl's rapt gaze rested. She had been +kneeling at the grating of a confessional from which the priest had just +departed. A smothered cry, and the abandon with which the penitent had +thrown herself upon the stone floor of the mural chapel, had attracted +Natalie's attention, and unconsciously she had laid her hand on Mark's +shoulder to arrest steps which might disturb that which, at first +supposed to be devotion, was quickly recognized as the agony of grief. + +For a moment the observers thought the woman had fainted, so still she +lay after that smothered cry, and Natalie had taken a step forward to +lend aid, when a convulsive shudder shook the prostrate form, and then +the woman rose to her knees. Dry-eyed, her long, black hair hanging in +disorder, her white face and great, dark eyes gleaming from beneath +heavy brows and long silken lashes, she knelt, holding high a photograph +upon which she gazed, a living statue of woe. + +Mark was hardly less moved than Natalie, but more quickly remembered +that he, at least, had no business with this sorrow. As he moved, the +unconscious hand of his companion fell from his shoulder, and in the +same moment the mourner rose and her eyes met Natalie's. + +Dignified by grief, she was a majestic woman, and handsome; probably +handsomer in her disorder than under the aspect of every day. Perhaps +she instantly read the sympathy in the eyes, no less beautiful than her +own, which were turned upon her. + +"You suffer!" exclaimed Natalie involuntarily. + +"And you rejoice," replied the other, indicating Mark. + +"I have but this." She displayed the colored photograph she had held +toward heaven. A startled exclamation broke from Mark, as he looked. + +"He is dead," said the woman. "To-day was to have been our wedding day, +and he is dead." The tears welled up in the listeners' eyes; the speaker +was tearless, but the silent sympathy impelled her to go on. + +"Three months we lived together," she continued, with Gallic frankness +as to domestic details. "His father refused consent, but to-day, his +birthday, he would have been free: he is dead. His mother pities me," +the woman went on. "She has known love. She promised consolation in +confession--as if a priest could know!" + +"Yet they say that in religion," Natalie commenced timidly---- + +"There is but one religion--Love!" interrupted the other. "You will +know. He"--her glance indicated Mark--"will be your teacher." + +Mark glanced hastily at his cousin. She seemed oblivious of the woman's +words. He moved further away. After awhile Natalie slowly followed; the +woman left the church. + +"Did you notice," asked Mark, as Natalie rejoined him, "how strikingly +that portrait resembled Leonard?" + +She made no answer. Other words than his were ringing in her ears: +"There is but one religion--Love! He will be your teacher," and even +while she sorrowed for the sorrow she had witnessed, a strange thrill +passed through her--was it pain, was it joy? + +The party left the church. Natalie sought the side of Mrs. Joe, leaving +Mark to walk with Paula. The elderly lady asked her who was the person +with whom she had talked. Natalie replied that the woman's name was +Berthe Lenoir, and that she wished to be the speaker's maid, and she +narrated some part of the history that had been briefly told to her. + +"But, my dear," was the comment, "your father must make inquiry as to +her fitness." + +"That, of course," was the answer, and then she was silent. Within a +week Berthe Lenoir entered her service, a woman, who by reason of her +capacity, soon gained the general approval; and for other reasons, the +special approval of a lover of the beautiful. "Her eyes," observed the +lieutenant, "are the eyes which shape destinies." + +Meanwhile, other eyes, belonging to one who believed it in her power to +shape destinies, were watchful. Mrs. Joe had long since resolved that to +be an American statesman, Mark needed an American wife, and since she +had herself trained one for the position, she had no desire to see her +labors rendered fruitless. It had needed merely the opening of her eyes +to enable her to discern that there were other schemes worthy of her +attention, besides that one of the philosopher, of which she herself was +the object, and which, though the gentleman had supposed it hidden, had +been patent to the lady, serving to amuse while it benefited her. She +promptly averted the danger to her plans by confiding to the Marquise +her intentions with regard to Mark and Paula. The noble lady regarded +such matters as entirely controllable by parental edict, and at once +resumed negotiations with the philosopher, who, in the belief that +surrender of his hopes in regard to his daughter would tend to further +those he cherished in respect to himself, acquiesced gracefully in the +inevitable; and there being no ground for further delay, the de +Fleury-Claghorn treaty was duly ratified, to remain, however, a secret +for the present from all the juniors of the party, except from the +lieutenant, whom it was necessary to inform of the need of a +re-transference of his affections. He submitted with sorrow. The charms +of Paula had, as he confided to his mama, made an impression on his +heart which only active service could efface. As to resisting destiny, +it never entered his thoughts. Paula was for Mark, Natalie for him. +There might be consolation. "With such wealth," he suggested, "they will +surely add to her dowry." + +"Let us hope so," replied the Marquise. "Our Cousin Beverley will do +what is possible. Meanwhile, be as charming as possible to Madame Zho +and to Marc, who will have it all." + +"Such luck is iniquitous! Well, since my marriage is deferred, you will +consent that I go to Africa. Love is denied me; I must seek glory. +_Tiens, je suis Francais!_" + +Long before this, Mrs. Joe had exacted from Mark a promise to study at +the University with reasonable diligence. The promise had been kept. A +new semester was about to commence; he was anxious to take the doctoral +degree, hence it was necessary for him to return to Heidelberg. He +hardly regretted it. Of late, constraint had seemed to pervade the +intercourse which had been hitherto so unrestrained, and, above all, +Natalie had been unusually reserved. It was not without some regret that +he departed, yet on the whole content to return to _Burschenfreiheit_ +and fidelity to the creed whose chief article is disdain of +philistinism. + +Mrs. Joe was glad to see him depart before she left for America, where +the surprise intended for him was progressing. But it might take more +time to build a house than make a Doctor of Civil Law; the question was +how to prevent his premature home-coming. + +"I will keep him," said the philosopher, in answer to her confidence as +to her misgivings. "He has promised to visit me when he leaves the +University. When I get him I will hold him." + +The lady looked at the gentleman questioningly. + +"Do not doubt my good faith," he murmured. + +"And you will come with him to America," she suggested. "Perhaps you can +induce the Marquise. And the little soldier--surely, he will brave the +seas if your daughter does so!" + +"An invasion by the Gauls. Why not? I for one shall be enchanted to see +the result of your energy and taste." + +"And Natalie shall see the Tomb in which she is so deeply interested, +while you lay your homage at the feet of Miss Achsah and so fulfill a +long-neglected duty." + +"And at the feet of the chatelaine of Stormpoint. I am impatient for the +day." And it was so arranged, and the lady, declining the proffered +escort of Monsieur, left Paris for Havre, accompanied by Paula. + +"A good fellow!" she thought, as she leaned back in the coupé, applying +to the philosopher that very term which he had flattered himself she +would not apply, "but too anxious to believe that I am his cousin and +not his aunt." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A CONFERENCE OF SPINSTERS CONCERNING A RUNAWAY DAMSEL. + + +Five years have passed since the Claghorn reunion at Heidelberg. The +Professor and philosopher have journeyed to that world concerning which +one of the two claimed certain knowledge, and which the other regarded +as unknowable. Thither we cannot follow them, but since men do not live +for a day, but for all time, we shall doubtless come upon indications +that the lives of these two, the things they said and did, are forces +still. Meanwhile, we must concern ourselves with the living, and of +those with whom we have to do, no one is more noteworthy than Achsah +Claghorn. + +Miss Claghorn was, as the representative of an ancient and very +theological family, a citizen of no little note in Easthampton, the +shady and quiet suburb of the city of Hampton. Her spotless white house +was large; its grounds were, compared with those of her neighbors, +large; the trees in the grounds were very large; the box-plants were +huge of their kind. Miss Achsah herself was small, but by reason of her +manner, which was positive and uncompromising, impressive. She lived as +became her wealth and position, comfortably and without undue regard for +conventionalities. She could afford so to live and had been able to +afford it for many years; ever since she had shared with her brother, +the Reverend Eliphalet, the bounty left to them by that other and +younger brother who had died in California. On the receipt of that +bounty she had retired from her position as schoolmistress, had bought +the large, white house, and, together with Tabitha Cone, had undertaken +to live as she pleased, succeeding in so doing more satisfactorily than +is usual with those fortunate enough to be able to make similar +resolves. Perhaps this was because her desires were more easily +attainable than the desires pertaining to such conditions usually are. + +The position of Tabitha Cone was nominally one of dependence, but, with +a praiseworthy desire to rise superior to such a status, Tabitha +persistently strove to rule her benefactress, which attempts were met +with frequent rebellion. Miss Achsah was, at least intermittently, +mistress of her own house; and both ladies had a lurking consciousness +that she, Achsah, to wit, had reserves of strength which would enable +her to become so permanently, if she were to develop a serious intention +to that end. Both ladies, however, shrank from a struggle with that +possible termination, much enjoying life as they lived it, and with no +desire to terminate an invigorating and pleasing warfare. + +For the rest, Miss Claghorn permitted no slurs to be cast upon her +companion, except such as she herself chose to project. "Tabitha Cone +and I sat on the same bench at school; together we found the Lord. I +knew of no difference between us in those days; I know of none now, +except that I had a rich brother." + +"I am sure, Miss Claghorn, I quite agree with your view," observed +Paula, to whom the words were addressed. + +"Which I hope is a satisfaction to you," replied the lady, her manner +indicating complete indifference as to the fact. "If that is so, why do +you object to my consulting Tabitha Cone about this letter?" looking +over her spectacles at the pretty face. + +"I hoped that my plan would meet your views, and then such consultation +would perhaps be unnecessary, and--and----" + +"And?" echoed Miss Achsah in an uncompromising tone, and regarding her +visitor still more sharply. + +"You know, Miss Claghorn, you sent for me, and were kind enough to say +you desired my advice----" + +"Information, not advice." + +"Don't you think Tabitha Cone will derive a wrong impression if she +reads that letter?" continued the persistent Paula, "Is that quite +fair?" + +"Tabitha Cone understands English--even Ellis Winter's--he says plainly +enough that the girl is an atheist----" + +"Not that, Miss----" + +"A heathen, then--a damned soul" (Paula started palpably). "Splitting +hairs about terms don't alter the essential fact." + +"Nobody can deplore the truth more than I; but to risk its being made a +subject of gossip----" + +"Tabitha Cone is not given to tattle. She may gossip with Almighty God +about this matter. She has known Him for many years." + +Paula shuddered. To know Omnipotence in this blunt fashion grated on her +nerves. "I have humbled myself many times and sought her eternal welfare +in prayer," she said. + +"I hope your condescension may ultimately benefit her," snapped the old +lady. "I can't say I have noticed any change, certainly no change for +the better." + +"I referred to Natalie." + +"Oh, and so that is the way to pronounce the outlandish name. My nephew +Eliphalet's mother's name was Susan; my own name has been in the family +two hundred years--well, and if Ellis Winter is right, your humblings +seem to have done but little good. Perhaps those of the despised Tabitha +Cone may have more effect, even if unaccompanied with flummery----" + +"Miss Claghorn, you are not generally unjust." + +"Never. But I get tired of millinery in religion. Ah! if only you would +humble yourself--but there! I suppose you intone the prayer for your +daily bread. Pah!" + +Paula rose majestically. + +"Sit down, child; I didn't mean to offend you. (The Lord has infinite +patience and pity, and so for imbeciles, I suppose)" she said +parenthetically and in a subdued tone, which was not heard by the +visitor, who sat down, having an object in being both meek and +persistent, a fact of which Miss Claghorn was aware. It was a sore +temptation to let Paula have her wish, but, all the while she knew she +must finally resolve to do her duty. It was that knowledge which gave +acrimony to her speech. + +"Paula," she said, "I ought not to have asked you to come here about +this matter. I knew what you would desire and hoped you would be able to +persuade me; I ought to have known myself better. I must do my duty; she +must come to me." + +"But, dear Miss Claghorn----" + +"She is a Claghorn, and--dreadful as it is--a heathen as well, and alone +in the world. I must do my duty; it is not easy, I assure you." + +Paula quite believed this, and the belief did not add to her hope of +success. When Miss Claghorn desired to do things which, in the eyes of +others, were better left undone, she was apt to see her duty in such +action. It was equally true that her duty being visible, she would do +it, even if disagreeable. But the duty now before her was, for many +reasons, very disagreeable, indeed, and strictly just as she was, she +was but human, and the righteous indignation she felt for her own +vacillation fell naturally in part upon Paula. + +"At least do not let that letter prejudice you," urged Paula. "She is a +sweet girl, as good as gold." + +"Very likely. Gold is dross. Good girls do not deny their Maker." + +This was indisputable. Paula sighed. "I am very sorry we cannot have +her," was all she said. + +Miss Claghorn looked at her thoughtfully and with some inward qualms at +her own harshness. There was an opportunity to seasonably drop a word +which for some time she had been considering as ready to be dropped, and +which, if heeded, might have some consolation for the girl before her. + +"You can have her--on one condition. Come now, Paula!" + +"What is that?" asked the girl, hope in her eyes; some misgiving, too, +for there was that in Miss Claghorn's expression which aroused it. + +"Stop your shilly-shally with that little milliner-man, Arthur Cameril, +and marry him. Then Natalie can pay you a good long visit." + +This was more than a Christian ought to bear. Paula could do her duty, +too. + +"Miss Claghorn, Father Cameril has taken the vow of celibacy. The fact +is well known. I am contemplating the same. I wish you good-morning," +and so Paula majestically sailed away. + +"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Miss Achsah, as her visitor let herself out of +the front door; and then, not disturbed, but in the belief that she had +performed another disagreeable duty, she commenced the re-perusal of a +letter in her hand. Which letter was as follows: + + "Dear Miss Claghorn--Your grand-niece, Natalie, has arrived in + this country. She naturally at once communicated with me, and I + find her situation somewhat perplexing. To speak frankly, she + has run away from home. It was her father's wish that she + remain in the household of the Marquise de Fleury, and she has + lived with that lady since Mr. Claghorn's death. But it seems + that for some time past the guardian has tried to induce the + ward to marry against her inclinations. + + "I think there can be no doubt that the influences brought to + bear on your grand-niece amounted to persecution, and I am + disposed to regard her action as justified, having received + from the Marquise (who was apprised of her destination by your + niece) a letter, written in such a tone as to leave no doubt in + my mind that the statements made to me by Miss Natalie are + correct. + + "The plan of your grand-niece is to live independently in this + country. For the present this would be most imprudent. She is + very young, and though by no means inexperienced in the ways of + the world, is very foreign. She is quite resolute in her + determination, and is aware that her property, in my charge, + aside from some French possessions, is ample for her support. + Do not gather that she is not amenable to advice, or is + inclined to be obstinate. This is not the case, but she has + evidently had an unpleasant experience of guardianship, and is + quite resolved under no circumstances to permit any disposition + of herself matrimonially. This resolve is the foundation of her + intention to remain independent, an intention which no doubt + will be easily combated with her advance in knowledge of our + American customs in this regard. + + "It would be unfair, having shown you the only shadows + connected with Beverley's daughter, were I to withhold the + commendation justly due her. With such acquaintance as I had + formed with her on the occasion of my visit to France, I + gathered a good opinion of one whom, indeed, I only knew as a + child. That opinion has been strengthened by occasional + correspondence and by the personal observation of the last + fortnight. She seems to be a charming girl, remarkably + beautiful, with a mind of her own, and, doubtless, a will of + her own; nevertheless, a person that would be an acquisition in + any household. Were I blessed with a domestic circle, I should + be well content to have Miss Natalie enter it; but, as you + know, I am not so fortunate. + + "I hesitate to mention one other detail, yet feel that you + ought to be fully informed; and while I can, believe me, + appreciate the standpoint from which you will regard that which + I have to disclose, I beg you to take a charitable view of a + matter which, to one of your rooted and cherished convictions, + will be of transcendent importance. It is that your grand-niece + is in religion a free-thinker, and rejects the Christian faith. + + "To you, as the representative of the Claghorn family, a family + which for generations has upheld the standard of purest + orthodoxy, this information will come as a shock. Yet when I + assure you that Miss Natalie's views (such as they are) are + probably held rather from a sense of filial duty and affection + than from conviction, the facts will, I am sure, appeal to your + compassion, as well as to that stern sense of duty and justice + so admirably exhibited in your life. For many years I have been + aware that the late Beverley had trained his daughter in + accordance with a theory which repudiated tenets sacred in your + eyes. My only reason for never imparting the fact to you was + because the knowledge could only be a grief to one who held the + Claghorn traditions in reverence. The interest you occasionally + displayed concerning one who had chosen to be an exile was, I + believe, always satisfied as far as in my power, except as to + this one particular. I regret now that I withheld a knowledge + which circumstances have made important. I did wrong, but I + need not ask you not to connect my wrong-doing with the claims + of your grand-niece. + + "Kindly consider this letter carefully and let me hear from you + soon. Perhaps an invitation to spend a part or all of the + coming summer with you would lead to an easy solution of the + difficulties presented. Your grand-niece is at present staying + with my friend, Mrs. Leon, who will be pleased that she remain; + but I foresee that the young lady herself will object to that. + + "With regards to Miss Cone, believe me, + + "Respectfully yours, ELLIS WINTER." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A MAIDEN FAIR, A MODERN EARLY FATHER AND A THEOLOGIAN. + + +Paula emerged from the White House in an un-Christian frame of mind. The +fact might to an ordinary sinner seem pardonable, and Paula herself, +though by no means an ordinary sinner, thought so, too. "Impertinent +bigot!" In these unusually emphatic words she mentally expressed her +opinion of Achsah Claghorn. + +From several points of view Paula was not an ordinary sinner. +Externally, she was a very pleasing one, being in all things alluring to +the eye. So nicely adjusted were her physical proportions that it could +not be said that she was either tall or short, plump or meagre. A +similar neutrality characterized the tints of her skin and hair. Her +cheeks were never red, yet never pale; the much-used adjective "rosy" +would not properly describe the dainty tinge that, without beginning or +end, or line of demarcation, redeemed her face from pallor. Her nose was +neither long nor short, upturned or beak-like, and while no man could +say that it was crooked and remain a man of truth, yet would no +truth-lover say that it was straight. In all respects a negative nose, +in no respect imperfect. Her skin, ears, neck, hands, feet--all were +satisfying, yet not to be described by superlatives. Her hair was +neither chestnut nor yellow, nor quite smooth nor kinky, but in color +and adjustment restful; her eyes were nearly violet, and their brows and +lashes just sufficiently decided to excite no comment. Paula's mouth was +perhaps the only feature which, apart from the charming whole, demanded +notice, and he who noticed sorrowed, for it was a mouth inviting, yet +not offering kisses. + +It is believed that it will be admitted that outwardly Paula Lynford was +not an ordinary sinner. Nor was she such as to the inner being, if she +herself could be believed; for at this period of her existence she was +accustomed to introspection, and that habit had disclosed to her that +she was very bad, indeed, "vile," as she fondly phrased it, or in +moments of extreme exaltation, "the vilest of the vile." + +A serene consciousness of vileness was a recent growth in her bosom. +Father Cameril (so known to a very small but devoted band of +worshippers--to the world at large, the Reverend Arthur Cameril) was +fond of dwelling upon human and his own vileness, and his adorers +desired to be such as he. Nor did the Reverend Father deny them this +delight, but rather encouraged their perception of the unworthiness +indicated by the unpleasant word which had been caught from him by the +dames and damsels who rejoiced in him and in their own turpitude. Father +Cameril was, in a very limited circle, quite the rage in the vicinity. +Since his advent spiritual titillation had been discovered in candles, +attitudes, novel genuflexions and defiance of the Bishop, a wary old +gentleman, who was resolved to evade making a martyr of Father Cameril, +being, from long observation, assured that sporadic sputterings of +ultra-ritualism were apt to flicker and die if not fanned by opposition. +The good Father, meanwhile, unaware that the Bishop had resolved that no +stake should be implanted for his burning, whereby he was to be an +illumination to the Church, tasted in advance the beatitude of +martyrdom, and reveled in mysterious grief and saint-like resignation +and meekness, and while hopefully expectant, he added to his inner joys +and the eccentricity of his outward man by peculiar vesture of the +finest quality, beneath which the fond and imaginative eyes of his +followers saw, as in a vision, a hair shirt. He was known to aspire to +knee-breeches, and was hopefully suspected of considering a tonsure as a +means of grace and a sign of sanctity. His little church, St. Perpetua, +the new and beautiful edifice erected by Mrs. Joseph Claghorn, of +Stormpoint, in memory of her husband (an offence in Miss Claghorn's +Calvinistic eyes, and regarded askance by Leonard), was crowded every +Sunday at Mass, a function which was also celebrated daily at an hour +when most people were still abed; Paula always, the night watchman, +about going off duty occasionally, and three elderly ladies, blue and +shivering, in attendance. Father Cameril was Miss Claghorn's special +aversion. Tabitha Cone found in him much to admire. He was a good little +man, inordinately vain, somewhat limited in intellect, and unconscious +of wrong-doing. He prayed that the Church might be led from the path of +error in which she obstinately chose to remain, and, by canonizing Henry +VIII, display works meet for repentance; in which case he would hesitate +no longer, but return home, that is, to the maternal bosom of Rome, at +once. + +As Paula saw the good Father coming down the street, holding in his +yellow-gloved hand a bright-red little book, the redness whereof set off +the delicate tint of the glove, while its gilded edges gleamed in the +sunlight, she was more than usually conscious of the vileness which +should have been meekness, even while her anger grew hotter at the +insult offered by Miss Claghorn to the natty little man approaching, +"like an early Father," she murmured, though any resemblance between the +Reverend Arthur in kid gloves and ætat 28, and Polycarp, for instance, +was only visible to such vision as Paula's. + +"You seem disturbed," he said, as the two gloved hands met in delicate +pressure, and he uttered the usual sigh. + +"A cherished hope," she answered, her clear violet eyes bent downward, +"has been dashed." + +"We must bear the cross; let us bear it worthily. I have been pained at +not seeing you at confession, Paula. You neglect a means of lightening +the burden of the spirit." + +"My cousin objects, Father. I owe her the obedience of a daughter." + +"You owe a higher obedience"--here his voice had that tone of sternness +always sweet to the meek ears of his followers. "Nevertheless," he +added, "do not act against her wish. I will, myself, see Mrs. Claghorn. +Meanwhile, bear your burdens with resignation, always remembering the +weakness, yea, the vileness of the human heart." + +"I strive," said Paula, looking very miserable and unconsciously taking +an illustration from a heavily-laden washerwoman passing, "not to faint +by the wayside, but the load of life is heavy." + +"But there are times when the heart's vileness is forgotten, the soul +rises above its burdens and feels a foretaste of the life to come," +interrupted Father Cameril a little confusedly as to the senses of the +soul. "Try to rise to those heights." + +"I do. May I ask your special intercession for a soul in darkness? One +that I had hoped to gain." + +"Hope on and pray. I shall not forget your request. The name is----" + +"Natalie, the daughter of Mr. Beverley Claghorn. You have heard us +mention them. Mr. Claghorn is dead. Until now she has lived in France, +where she was born. I hope to see her soon at Easthampton." + +"At Stormpoint! How pleasant for you! Paula, we shall rescue this dear +child from the errors of a schismatic mother. I feel it here," and the +Reverend Arthur indicated his bosom. + +Paula recognized in the schismatic mother the Roman Catholic Church. She +felt it sinful to leave Father Cameril in ignorance of the facts. She +felt it unkind to her friend to disclose them. She could sin, if hard +pushed; she could not be unkind. She concealed the unbelief. + +"We knew them some years since in Europe," she said. "I mean Mr. +Claghorn and Natalie. She is a sweet girl; but she will visit at Miss +Claghorn's." + +The Reverend Arthur's face fell. Above all earthly things he dreaded +sinners of the type of Achsah Claghorn. "The situation will be +difficult," he murmured. "But truth will prevail," he added, more +cheerily. "Truth must prevail." + +Which assurance made the girl uncomfortable, because she knew that his +prayers and his labors would be directed against mere schism, whereas +the case required the application of every spiritual engine at command. + +So that she was not sorry that he left her, after presenting her with +the little red book and urging her to read the same. + +Stormpoint was not inaptly named. A huge crag jutting out into the sea, +whose waves, ever darting against its granite sides, rolled off with a +continuous muffled bellow of baffled rage, which, when the storm was +on, rose to a roar. A cabin had once stood on the bluff, which, +tradition asserted, had been the home of the first Eliphalet Claghorn, +whose crumbling tomb, with its long and quaint inscription, was hard by. +The Reverend Eliphalet slept quiet in death, but the howl of the storm +and the roar of the waves must have kept him awake on many a night in +life. Even the stately castle erected by Joseph Claghorn's widow often +trembled from the shock of the blast. The region about was strewn with +huge boulders, evidences of some long-past upheaval of nature, while +among the crags great trees had taken root. The landscape was majestic, +but the wind-swept soil was barren, and the place had remained a waste. +Only a fortune, such as had been derived from the Great Serpent, could +make the Point comfortable for habitation. But the task had been +accomplished, and Stormpoint was the second wonder of Easthampton, the +first being the wonderful chapel, St. Perpetua. + +Paula gloried in Stormpoint. Not for its grandeur or the money it had +cost, but because she loved the breeze and the sea and the partial +isolation. Even now, as she ascended the bluff by a side path, rugged +and steep, and commenced to smell the ocean and feel its damp upon her +cheek, the Reverend Arthur Cameril seemed less like an early Father, and +his lemon-colored kids less impressive. + +On hearing her name called and looking up, she smiled more brightly and +looked more beautiful than she had yet looked that day, though, from the +moment she had emerged from her morning bath of salt water she had been +beautiful. "Aha! Leonard, is that you?" she exclaimed. + +"Where have you been?" asked Leonard, as he reached her side. + +"At Miss Claghorn's. She sent for me." + +Leonard's eyes opened wide. "Cousin Achsah sent for you! What for?" + +"She will tell you." + +"And you won't. Well, I must wait. What have you there?" taking the +little red book from her hand. "'The Lives of the Hermits!' Oh, Paula; +you had better read the 'Lives of the Laundresses'; these were a very +dirty set." + +"Leonard! How can you? A clergyman, a professor of theology!" + +"Oh, I've no objection to them except that," he answered, "and I +wouldn't mention their favorite vanity if they had not so reveled in it +and plumed themselves upon it. Paula, Paula," he added, more seriously, +"Father Cameril gave you that." + +He was vexed, perhaps jealous of Father Cameril, though if so, he was +unconscious, ascribing his vexation to a different source. He had a +hearty contempt for the silly flummery, as he mentally described it, +practised by Father Cameril, and he hated to know that Paula was enticed +by it. She understood and was neither without enjoyment of his vexation +nor resentment that he would not express it in words. She would have +liked him to forbid the reading of the little book. It would have been a +sign of steadfastness to disobey; it might have been a greater pleasure +to obey. + +"Well, read the book, if you can stomach it," he said. "I doubt if you +will derive any benefit. I must be going. When you and Cousin Achsah +take to plotting, I must investigate. Good-bye." + +"Leonard, did you know that Natalie is in New York, that she has come to +America to live?" + +"Natalie in New York! Your news amazes me. She will come here, of +course?" + +"Not to Stormpoint," she answered regretfully. "To your cousin's, Miss +Claghorn." + +He looked his surprise. "To live there! That surely will never do." + +"Oh, Leonard, I am so glad you agree with me. I tried to persuade Miss +Claghorn to let her come to us. Think of it! Alone with those two old +women and their quarrels. That gloomy house! It's dreadful!" + +"It certainly will not do for Natalie," he observed, thoughtfully. "I +wish, Paula, my cousin had consulted me rather than you." + +"Why, Leonard! You don't suppose I did not urge all I could?" + +"That's just it. Cousin Achsah is, of her kind, a very fine specimen, +and I am her favorite and bound to respect and love her, as I do--but a +nature like hers and one like yours are antagonistic." + +"Then, since you respect and--and----" + +"And love her, you think I don't respect and love you; but you know +better, Paula." + +She blushed at the snare the echo of his words had led her into. He was +not so conscious. "As I remember Natalie," he said, "she was amiable and +nice in all points--still she and my cousin----" + +"They will be absolutely incomprehensible to each other," said Paula. +"Do try and have her consent to let Natalie come to Stormpoint." + +"I will do what I can. Has Mrs. Joe invited her?" + +"She will be only too glad as soon as she knows. But the matter has been +placed in such a light by that tiresome Mr. Winter--but there, you will +find out everything from your cousin. Do what you can." + +"I will. What happy days they were, those days in Heidelberg." + +The violet eyes were tender with reminiscence, the pretty mouth +seductive. "They were the happiest of my life," she said. + +"And of mine," echoed Leonard, as he walked off, having seen neither +mouth nor eyes, but a vision of the past. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE ADVANTAGES OF TREADING THE BORDERLAND OF VICE. + + +Among the diversions indulged in at Heidelberg, during the accidental +reunion of the Claghorns, there had been one particularly affected by +Professor and philosopher. The early education of these two had been +identical; their later training had progressed on widely diverging +lines. The Reverend Jared had continued in the path in which his +footsteps had been placed in childhood, while Beverley had wandered far. +Yet, being by inheritance as nearly alike as may be two who, descended +from a common ancestor, partake of marked ancestral traits, agreement +between them in reference to a matter wherein their views clashed was +impossible; which fact had sufficed to lend a charm to disputation. + +A favorite theme of discussion had been discovered in the serious +problems connected with the training of youth. The clergyman had a son +who embodied his theories; the philosopher was the father of a daughter +educated upon a plan of his own. Each was paternally satisfied with +results so far, and each hoped for further development equally +gratifying. + +The philosopher preached from a text which may be briefly stated in the +words of the proverb, which informs us that "Familiarity breeds +contempt." He would apply this maxim to evil and use knowledge as the +shield of youth. Whereas the Professor, relying upon the truth contained +in the adage, "Ignorance is bliss," and maintaining that modified bliss +in this world and perfect bliss in the world to come are the proper +objects of man's endeavor, logically contended that ignorance of evil, a +thing in its nature sure to breed sorrow, was to be encouraged. + +"The true way to appreciate the dangers which must inevitably beset +youth is to become familiar with them. Distance lends enchantment. That +closer inspection of vice which may be derived from acquaintance with +its borderland, wherein the feet of the novice may be taught to tread +warily, will result in indifference, if not disgust. As long as there is +ignorance there will be curiosity, which is more dangerous than +knowledge." Thus had spoken the philosopher. To which the Professor had +replied: "Yet I will not assume that you wish your daughter to tread the +borderland of vice?" + +"Certainly I do; limiting her steps to the borderland of the vices to +which she is to be exposed. I admit that a man cannot, as readily as a +woman, take cognizance of such vices. It is my misfortune and my +daughter's that her mother died at her birth; but I have endeavored to +make her superior to the glaring defects of her sex. She is not petty. +She yearns neither for bonnets nor beatitudes. Without attempting, in +the ignorance inseparable from my sex, to instruct her in detail, I have +always had in view the enlargement of her mind." + +"By educating her as a Frenchwoman!" + +"Pardon me, no. Much as I admire the French, I do not approve their +system of female education, which, by the way, resembles the course you +have pursued with your son. I do not question its frequent excellent +results, nor can I question its failures. My daughter's schooling has +been only partially French. Travel and indiscriminate reading--I have +largely relied on these." + +"I am willing to admit, Cousin, that the apparent results in those +matters which you deem of most importance ought to be gratifying. It is +no exaggeration to say that my young cousin is a charming girl. But her +life has not been lived." + +"No. Therefore, we cannot fairly speculate as to the outcome. Meanwhile, +as far as my system has reached, it is gratifying, as you confess." + +"The same can be said of mine." + +"Doubtless. But has your son's life been lived? Thus far, you have as +much reason for satisfaction as I have. I hope that you will never be +compelled to admit that innocence, based on ignorance, is a weak barrier +to oppose to the inevitable temptations which beset young men." + +"Innocence fortified by religious principle, early instilled," had been +the solemn reply. + +M. Claghorn understood the solemnity and braved the possible results of +a confession which he was willing to make rather than be further exposed +to the occasional somewhat annoying admonitory tone of his companion. + +"I am a living example of the futility of that contention," he answered. +"I do not wish to be understood as admitting that I have been unduly +addicted to vice, which would not be true; but I have tasted of +forbidden fruit. I found it unsatisfactory. I base my theory on careful +observation and some personal experience." + +Cousin Jared groaned inwardly, but made no answer. Exhortation was on +his tongue's end, but, as the philosopher had desired, he recognized its +futility. + +Indulgence in wine was one of those vices which the Reverend Jared had +found reprehensible, a practice which it grieved him to observe was +permitted by the lax views of all those Claghorns, except himself and +Leonard, who were sojourning together. It is not to be assumed that +these people indulged in unseemly intoxication. Of so untoward a result +the Professor had no fear. He objected to wine-drinking as offering an +evil example. The fact that in so doing he discredited the first miracle +of his Saviour was a difficulty easily surmounted by a nimble +theologian. + +"You are so fierce about wine that one would think you had a personal +hatred toward liquor," Beverley had said to him laughingly. + +"I have, 'Liph. Jeremiah Morley----" He said no more, remembering who +Jeremiah Morley had been. + +"It is fanaticism, Jared; absolutely incomprehensible. Your son, even +though a clergyman, must live in the world. I don't say make him +worldly, but don't let him remain in complete ignorance. He is a +handsome fellow, amiable, intelligent--really too good for a parson." + +"Which you intended to be; which your father, grandfather and +great-grandfather were." + +"Don't think I depreciate them. But your boy is hardly formed on the +Claghorn pattern. He has probably more of the Morleys. His mother must +have been a very beautiful woman, if he resembles her." + +"As good as she was beautiful," sighed the widower. "Yes, Leonard +resembles the Morleys--the best of them." + +And so the discussion had terminated. It has been recorded here to +indicate paternal views as to the education of youth. In the practice of +the views he held, Professor Claghorn had been ably seconded by an +excellent and pious wife, and had he been alive to see the result in the +young man who had just left Paula Lynford, he must assuredly have +observed the proved soundness of his theories and practice. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A YOUTH OF PROMISE, A FEMALE POLITICIAN AND A YELLOW MAN. + + +Paula watched Leonard until he disappeared. Then she sighed. Long ago +Beverley Claghorn had paid a similar tribute to the charms which +extorted the sigh. In Paula's eyes the attractions which pertained to +Leonard were lost in the sect to which he belonged. As a priest of the +Church (it was thus that she put it) he would have been externally +perfect, his physical excellence of unspeakable value to the cause of +pure truth, while his conception of the priestly role would have been +even nobler than that of Father Cameril. Leonard would have been no meek +saint, but a saint militant, and long ere this the Bishop would have +been down upon him, to the episcopal discomfiture. + +If Paula grieved that Leonard labored under the disadvantage of the +rigid practice of his denomination as to vesture and pulpit accessories, +to those by whom such disadvantages were unrecognized his personality +was no less persuasive of his fitness for noble deeds. As a rising +theologian and young teacher of the divine science, he was, to those who +watched his course, of excellent promise; destined to be a defender of +that ancient creed which of late had been often attacked by able, if +deluded, foes. To him orthodoxy looked with confidence, as to one who, +when the day of battle came, would valiantly assail the enemies without, +and confound the machinations of those within the household of faith. A +worthy successor of his father, Professor Jared Claghorn, and to be +greater, as better equipped to meet skeptical reasoning with reason +clarified by faith; to demonstrate that the eye of the philosopher is +but a feeble instrument for scrutiny of the works of God. + +He was not ignorant of the general estimate or of the hopes of his +elders, and had long been accustomed to fit himself for the position he +was destined to fill, but of these aspirations he was oblivious as he +walked slowly toward the town. He had never forgotten his father's words +as to Natalie's unbelief. They were part of the memory of her, and now +that memory was reawakened, and the words sounded again in his ears. He +was deeply stirred by the knowledge that an errant soul was about to +enter the inner circle of his life. He saw the hand of Providence in the +fact; it was for this that she had not been turned from infidelity to +error. She would not find the way to heaven by the dim rays of the +obscured light of Romanism, but by the purer light of a reformed and +vitalized religion, and to him was to be given the glory of being +heaven's instrument. He was ambitious; his eyes had long been set on +such earthly honors as come to theologians; he was prepared to welcome +the theological storm of which the forecasts were already visible to +those of clear perception, such as his own. In that impending struggle +he knew that he would bear himself worthily, yet no glory that he could +rightly anticipate therefrom seemed now so pleasing, nor awakened more +fervent hope than that just born within him, the hope of rescuing a +single soul. That glory would transcend all other, for though from men +his work might be hidden, in the eyes of God he would be a faithful and +worthy servant, and would hear from heaven the inaudible words, "Well +done." + +Exaltation such as this had long been rare with Leonard, whose mind of +late had been fascinated rather by the mysteries of doctrine than warmed +by religious fervor; and he was himself surprised that this ardent +desire for a soul should enchain him; but he was gratified. To save +souls was the ultimate object of his teaching; he was glad of this +evidence that he had not forgotten it. + +It may be that other thoughts, memories of bygone days, arose in his +mind. Perhaps he recalled the beauty that had so attracted him in the +garden of the Red Ox. There may have been some stirring of the blood of +youth, which of late had sometimes coursed tingling through his veins; +sometimes when he held Paula's hand, or noted the peachy velvet of her +cheek, the clear depths of her eyes. But, if it were so, he was +unconscious. + +Meanwhile, Paula, who in the face of Miss Claghorn's fiat, still hoped +to rescue Natalie from the impending horrors of the White House, turned +toward the mansion. Her main reliance lay in anticipating the summons of +Miss Achsah by an urgent invitation from the mistress of Stormpoint, to +which end it was essential to seek that lady without further delay. +Suddenly, as she hurried on, an exclamation of annoyance escaped her, +and her steps were arrested by the sight of an ancient and mud-encrusted +buggy which stood near that entrance to the house toward which her own +steps were tending. She recognized the equipage of Mr. Hezekiah Hacket, +and recent observation had taught her that when Mr. Hacket's carriage +stopped that way, the lady of Stormpoint was not accessible to persons +of minor distinction. + +Aside from her general disapproval of Mr. Hacket, whose buggy, beneath +its coating of mud, was yellow, and who was himself a yellow man, with +teeth, hair, eyes and skin all of that unattractive hue, and unlovely in +consequence of his pervading tint, Paula had no reason, so far as she +knew, to resent Mr. Hacket's presence, except that it interfered with +access to Mrs. Joe. Had she been aware of that which was transpiring in +that apartment of the mansion which was devoted to business of state, +she would have known that the visit of the gentleman was to have an +important bearing upon her wish to deprive Miss Achsah of the +opportunity to convert her erring grand-niece to Calvinism; which dark +design Paula, since her meeting with Father Cameril, suspected. + +Hezekiah Hacket, externally no more noteworthy than any very ordinary +man and brother, was, in fact, an important personage in that region +where Mrs. Joseph Claghorn had replanted the California branch of the +family tree, intending that it should flourish and mightily expand. The +shrewd lady of Stormpoint had quickly discovered that Mr. Hacket, the +man of business of the Seminary, as well as of everybody that required +the services of a man of business, possessed a sphere of influence +eminently worthy of cultivation by political aspirants; and in all the +region round about there was no such aspirant whose ambition soared as +high as hers. In a realm largely dominated by a theological seminary, +the existence of the political potentate called "Boss" was ignored and +the word was seldom heard; but Mr. Hacket was the thing, and, all +unconscious, the Seminary voted as its political guardian wished. Not +the Seminary only; as the investor of the funds of others, this +personage controlled the sources of power, and while deftly avoiding +concentration of the secret antagonism which he knew existed against +himself, by never exposing himself to the vengeance of the ballot, Mr. +Hacket named the candidates for office--not infrequently those of +opposing sides, so that in close elections, when a rolling wave of +reform rendered the outlook uncertain, as in those not close, he +remained the winner. Financially, he was strictly, though only legally, +honest. Politically, he was a rogue. He was a pious man, though without +a conscience and without belief. His industry was untiring. The lady of +Stormpoint disliked him, at times to the point of loathing, and she +courted him and smiled upon him. + +"I sent for you," she said, on his appearance at Stormpoint, and +offering a fair hand and an agreeable smile, both of which Mr. Hacket +pretended not to see, it being his pleasant way to rule by insolence--if +possible, by cringing if need were--"because in a few months my son will +return home." + +Mr. Hacket smoothed his yellow jaws with a freckled hand, and replied, +"Just so," while the lady, who secretly desired to shake him, smiled yet +more agreeably. + +"Before he left home the last time," she continued, seeing that her +visitor intended to remain dumb, "he had made many acquaintances. This +was in accordance with your advice. What is he to do now?" + +"Make more acquaintances." + +"That, of course. I want him to enter the next Legislature." + +Mr. Hacket had not decided that the desire expressed by the lady was his +own, but he was shrewd enough to know that, crude as her ideas might be, +and defective her knowledge of things political, she had the energy to +attain her desire in the end, if seconded by the efforts of her +candidate. He hated innovation, but he was aware that the Great Serpent +held potentialities which he must not antagonize. It was not possible +for him to be pleasing to Mrs. Joe, nor for her to be pleasing to him; +but it was prudent to seem sympathetic. He essayed it, awkwardly enough. + +"You know," he said, "your son is young and his only merit is money." + +She flushed; but she knew he could not help being insolent in the +presence of grace, comeliness and luxury, and all these were before him. +"You mean it's the merit by which he's best known. Let it serve until +others become apparent." + +"It'll go far, but some it makes mad. I have an idea your son isn't +over-warm in the matter." + +"He didn't seem so. He wasn't aware that I am serious, and I said but +little to him. Then the country was very new to him, and the people. +He'd been long in Europe; his position was difficult." She had realized +much more keenly than Mr. Hacket that Mark had only followed her urgency +in that matter of making acquaintance because he had wished to please +her. She was sure that there had been some hidden cause for indifference +other than distaste for the task she had set him, and had brooded not a +little over possibilities. But she was sanguine by nature; and since no +love-tale had come to her ears (and she had her observers and reporters) +she had concluded that, whatever the cause of his indifference, her son +would become sufficiently ardent in the furtherance of her plans, when +once they were more fully disclosed to him, and he had become aware that +his mother had set her heart upon a political career for him. At present +he probably regarded her wishes as merely a passing whim, and she knew +that he was ignorant of her consultations with Mr. Hacket. + +"Positions are apt to be difficult," observed the gentleman. "However, +it's much too soon to discuss nominations. He'll have a year before +him." + +"He must have the Seminary," she said, "when the time comes." + +"When the time comes," he echoed. He did not intend to commit himself, +but he was becoming each moment more convinced that the lady knew her +value and wished him to perceive the fact. It was equally evident that +she duly appreciated his own; was, in fact, afraid of him, a pleasing +assurance, which would have been yet more delightful if the gentleman, +simultaneously with the recognition of this truth, had not also +recognized a less agreeable fact, namely, that he was also afraid of +her; sufficiently so to make it advisable that she understand he was not +trifling with her. Such advice as he might give must seem reasonable, +and must go beyond the suggestion of making acquaintances. + +"You're working the Sem. all right," he said as graciously as he could. +"Keep it up, but don't overdo it. How's Miss Achsah feel?" + +"Friendly to Mark, I'm sure; not unfriendly to me, though----" + +"Though your church sticks in her--is hard to swallow. I'm not surprised +at that. St. Perpetual's----" + +"Is there and beyond discussion." + +"I always believe in looking over the whole field. St. Perpetual covers +a good deal of it; so does Miss Achsah, and----" + +"I had no idea that my sister-in-law is a political factor." + +"Her's is, or wants to be." + +"Well, let us conciliate Miss Achsah, if necessary. We're on fair +terms----" + +"Next time the Bishop comes here, invite her to dinner with him." + +"She'll decline." + +"What if she does? You always had the Professor, and she'll see that you +look on her as his successor." + +He rose, as if to go, but hesitated. Not because of any delicacy about +volunteering the counsel that hovered on his lips, but in doubt whether +it might not be well to permit her to injure her aspirations as much as +she could. The certainty that she was, if she cared to be, too +influential to offend him, determined him. He felt, with a sigh, that +the time might come when he might be compelled to share his power; +better that than risk losing it. + +"I was in New York this week and saw Ellis Winter," he said. "Ellis told +me that 'Liph Claghorn's daughter is in this country. He seemed to think +you might invite her here." + +"I intended to do so." + +"Don't. She's French and, I suppose, a Romanist. Winter was +close-mouthed, but I could see there was something. There's talk enough +about idolatry and St. Perpetual's. I happen to know that Miss Achsah +wants her, too, to convert her." + +"Really, Mr. Hacket----" + +"Good-bye," he said. "I've acted on the square. There's more in the +matter than you think." + +After his departure the lady of Stormpoint spent a few moments of +indulgence in silent indignation; but when Paula came and preferred the +request for that urgent invitation to Natalie, which was to circumvent +the designs of Miss Claghorn, she found the lady inclined to recognize +the claims of that person. Nevertheless, she promised to send the +invitation, and did so that afternoon. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE DEVIL WALKS TO AND FRO IN HAMPTON. + + +The ancient city of Hampton and its Theological Seminary are well known. +To the wanderer under the elms of the quaint old town there is imparted +an impression of cleanliness and a serene complacency, derived, +doubtless, from the countenances of the many who, clad in sombre vesture +and clean linen, pass and repass in the quiet streets. No man can be +long in Hampton without feeling the theological influence; unconsciously +the wayfarer adopts the prevailing manner, becomes deliberate in his +walk and grave of aspect; his moral tone acquires rigidity, his taste +severity; he inwardly rejoices if clad in fitting black and secretly +covets gold-rimmed spectacles. + +The best hotel, facing the Square, has the Hampton air, being even +severely theological in aspect. Ordinary commercial travelers prefer +"The United States," also a grave hostelry, though less austere in tone; +but some descend at "The Hampton," reverend appearing gentlemen these, +with white chokers conspicuous, and dealing in churchly wares and +theological publications. + +In this house Leonard had lived since his father's death had made the +old home desolate, being, by reason of his personal as well as his +professional attributes, a guest of note; and here there happened to him +one day a new and strange experience. + +He was breakfasting, later than his usual hour, when he became conscious +of the scrutiny of the strangest eyes he had ever seen--eyes belonging +to a woman, who, plainly clad in traveling attire, faced him from an +adjacent table where she sat, with another woman, whose back was toward +Leonard. + +The gaze, though fixed, was not in appearance intentionally bold. The +woman's eyes, dreamy, languishing, seemed to sink into his own, as +though seeking what might be in the depths they tried to penetrate. It +was as though, for them, the veil behind which man hides his inner self +was lifted, and a sense of pleasure stole over him and willingness to +surrender to this scrutiny; withal a shrinking from disclosure of that +which he instinctively felt was unknown, even to himself. It required +some effort to rise and leave the room. + +An hour later, while waiting for the time of his morning lecture, and +hardly freed as yet from the sensation resulting from his breakfast +experience, while sitting in the spacious hall of the quiet house, he +suddenly became aware of drapery, and looking up, encountered the eyes +again; not as he had been seeing them since he had escaped them, but +again bodily where they belonged, under the heavy brows of a dark-faced, +large, and rather handsome woman. + +"Pardon," she said in musical tones, and with a scarce perceptible smile +at the ruddy flush which mantled his face. "_Est ce Monsieur Claghorn?_" + +"Surely," exclaimed Leonard, "this is not----" + +"The maid of Mademoiselle Claghorn," she replied, still in French. "The +clerk indicated you as Monsieur----" + +"Certainly. Your mistress----" + +"This way, Monsieur." She led him toward the parlor, and had his ears +been keen enough, he might have heard her murmur: "_Il est adorable._" + +Natalie had been, in Leonard's eyes, a very beautiful girl, and he found +her now a very beautiful woman. She was tall, dark, slender and +indescribably graceful, as well as with the nameless manner, born with +some and never in perfection acquired, of exceeding yet not obtrusive +graciousness. Had she been born a duchess, she could not have had a +better manner; had she been born a washerwoman, it would have been as +good, for it was born, not made. The mere beauty of her face was hardly +remembered in contemplation of qualities apparent, yet not wholly +comprehensible. Ordinarily serene, if not joyous in expression, there +was an underlying sadness that seldom left it. Perhaps she still grieved +for the father she had lost; perhaps, unconsciously, she craved the love +or the religion which the Marquise had said a woman needs. + +The travelers were on their way to Easthampton, having arrived in the +night train from New York. On learning that less than an hour's drive +would bring her to the home of Miss Claghorn, Natalie declined Leonard's +escort. "I wish to see my grand-aunt alone," she explained. "She has +written a most kind invitation----" + +"Which I hope you will accept, Cousin." + +"Which I greatly desire to accept, but----" + +"If for any reason," he interrupted, "you should decide not to accept +Cousin Achsah's invitation, I know that at Stormpoint----" + +"I have letters from both Mrs. Joe and Paula; but my first duty, and my +inclination as well, take me to my father's aunt." + +Though he had at first agreed with Paula that residence with Miss Achsah +would not "do" for Natalie, he saw the fitness of her decision. She +recognized her own status as a Claghorn and appreciated the Claghorn +claim upon her. "I am glad you feel so," he said. "You will discern +Cousin Achsah's real excellence beneath an exterior which, at first +sight, may seem unpromising. She is not French, as you will soon +discover, but as for true kindness----" + +She interrupted with a laugh. "You and Mr. Winter are both eloquent in +apologizing for my grand-aunt's sort of kindness, which, it seems, +differs from the French variety." + +"We only mean she will seem to you undemonstrative. She is very +religious." + +"That does not alarm me; everybody is--except myself," and now her laugh +had a cadence of sadness. + +It touched him. He knew the task laid out for him by Providence, and he +felt that he ought to say a fitting word. But all the time he knew that +the eyes of the maid were upon him. The knowledge made him appear +somewhat constrained--he who ordinarily had an ease of manner, which was +not the least of his charms. + +"They are well at Stormpoint, of course?" questioned Natalie. "Mrs. Joe +and Paula?" + +"Perfectly. You will be charmed with their home. Mrs. Claghorn has +transformed a desert. The sea----" + +"Paula sent me some views, and better, an appreciative description. I +should think they would never wish to leave it--none of them?" She +looked inquiringly at him. + +"As to that," he laughed, "Mrs. Joe flits occasionally; and, of course, +Paula with her. But they are becoming more and more content to remain at +home. Mrs. Joe is quite a public character." + +"A chatelaine--the head of the house?" Again her eyes questioned more +insistently than her lips. + +"Quite so," was the answer. "Mark's a rover. He's in Russia." + +A sigh of relief--or regret? It was quickly checked. Leonard noticed her +pallor. "You are tired," he said. "Why not rest for an hour or two here? +If you will do so, I can myself drive you to Easthampton. Just now I +must attend to my class at the Seminary." + +But she would not wait for his escort; so he procured a conveyance, and +surmising that, under the circumstances, the maid was an embarrassment, +he suggested providing her with a book and the hospitality of his +sitting-room, and having seen his cousin depart, he conducted +Mademoiselle Berthe to his room and handed her a volume of the "Revue +des Deux Mondes," which the maid accepted graciously. + +"There," he said pleasantly, and in his best French, "you can look out +of the window or read, as you please. I hope you will not find the time +long." + +She smiled in reply. Her penetrating eyes sought that other self within +him, which leaped to the call and looked out of his eyes into hers. For +a moment only. His gaze dropped. Wondering, he found himself trembling. + +"I--I shall look in in an hour, to see if you want anything." + +"Monsieur is very good," murmured Berthe. They were not far apart; her +hand touched his. She looked downward. + +"Good-bye," he said abruptly. + +She watched him crossing the square toward the Seminary. There was a +half smile upon her lips. "He is adorable," she murmured again. "Ah! I +thought so," as Leonard, now some hundred yards away, looked back. + +When he had disappeared she lazily inspected her surroundings, noting +the various objects with faint interest. "_Son père_," she muttered as +her glance fell upon the portrait of Professor Jared Claghorn. But she +examined more minutely that of his mother. "_Belle femme_," was her +comment, and though her eyes wandered from the picture, they often +returned to it, verifying the close resemblance between it and the +occupant of the room. "Ah-h!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms, and +then letting them fall listlessly, "_Qu'il est beau_!" + +Then she tried to doze, but without much success, twitching nervously +and occasionally muttering impatiently; and, at length, she rose from +her chair and began to deliberately inspect the various objects lying on +table or mantel. Everything that was purely ornamental she scrutinized +with care, as though she would read the reason of its being where she +found it. There was a peculiar expression of veiled anger in her eyes +while thus engaged, and once the veil was momentarily lifted and anger +was visible. Nevertheless, she laughed a moment after and replaced the +object, an ivory paper cutter, where she had found it. "_T'es bête_," +she muttered. + +But soon her dark eyes flashed actual rage. She had taken a prettily +bound book of poems from the table, where it had been thrown, as if but +recently read. She turned the pages, half carelessly, yet with a sharp +eye, to see if there were any marked passages. She found one or two +such, and it would have been diverting, had there been a spectator +present, to note her perplexed attempts to read Mrs. Browning. But the +language was beyond her powers, and she was about impatiently to replace +the book when she noticed the fly-leaf, whereon in a neat, clear hand +was written the inscription, "Leonard, from Paula." She stared at these +innocent words with a glare that under no circumstances could have been +regarded as amusing. Finally, she tore the leaf from the book and flung +the book itself disdainfully from her. Then she crumpled the leaf in her +hand, threw it into the waste basket, and deliberately spat upon it. + +Which strange proceeding perhaps soothed her irritation, for she lay +back in her chair, and after breathing hard for a little while, was soon +sleeping peacefully. + +Meantime, while Mademoiselle slept the sleep of one who has spent the +night in travel, Leonard lectured, but less fluently than was usual. A +man out of sorts is not an uncommon circumstance, and though his flushed +cheeks, bright eyes, and occasional bungling speech were sufficiently +remarkable in one ordinarily engrossed with his subject, nothing was +said to further disturb his equanimity. + +The lecture over, he walked across the square, less equable in spirit +than he had been in the class-room; for there he had striven to retain +his grasp of the topic in hand; now he was under no restraint and could +surrender himself to contemplation--of what? + +Of the stirring touch of a woman's hand, of the vision of a new world, a +glimpse of which he had caught in the greedy depths of a woman's eyes. +Even now he was hurrying to see these things again, while he was angry +that they drew him back. + +He overcame the attraction, and deliberately sat down upon a bench. He +watched a little girl playing about, and might have remained watching +had not the devil, who sometimes walks to and fro and up and down in +Hampton, intervened. + +The child was suddenly struck by a ball, batted by an urchin, who, on +seeing what he had done, incontinently took to his heels. She fell, +stunned, almost at Leonard's feet. The impact of the ball had seemed +frightful, and for a moment Leonard thought she was killed. + +The hotel was across the street. He carried her thither, intending to +summon a physician, but on seeing some returning signs of animation, he +took his burden to his room and laid her on the bed. + +Berthe, her nap over, had witnessed the scene in the park. She heard +Leonard lay the child on the bed in the chamber adjoining the room in +which she sat, and was instantly by the bedside with her traveling bag, +from which she produced restoratives. She gave her whole attention to +the sufferer, while he looked on, pleased with these gentle +ministrations. + +"It may be a bad hurt," said Berthe, undoubted pity in her tone. "The +brain may be injured." + +"I will call the doctor,'" he said. + +The doctor was at hand, his room being on the same corridor. His opinion +was that no serious damage had been done. "Let her rest awhile. If she +seems unusually drowsy, let me know," with which words and a glance at +Mademoiselle, he returned to his room. + +Berthe knelt beside the child, who was growing alarmed as her +intelligence became normally acute. The Frenchwoman prattled soothingly, +and Leonard stooped to add some words of encouragement. He stroked the +child's hair, and his hand met the soft hand of Berthe and was enclosed +within it. He trembled as she drew him downward, and a sob escaped him +as his lips met hers and lingered on them in a rapturous kiss. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +HER EYES GREW LIMPID AND HER CHEEKS FLUSHED RED. + + +When the carriage, which was to convey her to Easthampton, had started, +Natalie commenced the re-perusal of Miss Claghorn's invitation, which +ran thus: + + "My Dear Grand-niece--I address you thus, for though I have + never seen you, yet you are of my kindred, and all who bear + your name must be dear to me. Your father was so in his youth, + and if, in later years, he neglected, if he did not forget, the + ties of kinship and of country, I nevertheless mourned for him, + even though sensible that all things are ordered by the Lord of + heaven and earth and that human regret is useless, and, if + unaccompanied with resignation, sinful. Mr. Winter writes me + that you are friendless. I offer that which you can justly + claim from me--my friendship and a home. As far as earthly + cares are concerned, I am willing to relieve you of those + incident to your situation. This is plainly my duty, and for + many years I have striven, with God's help, to perform with a + cheerful spirit that which I have been called upon to do. + + "It is this habit which impels me here to refer to your views + concerning man's duty toward his Maker. I do not, because + conscientiously I cannot, agree with those who profess + tolerance in these matters. There should be no tolerance of + sin. If we would worthily follow in the steps of Him who died + that we might live, we must hate the devil and his children in + the same measure that we love our Father and his children. + Whose child are you? + + "This is a solemn question. I urge you to seek its answer at + the Throne. If you will do this, my hope will be mighty. Should + you be tempted to resent my solicitude, remember that my + religion is a part of my nature, the only part meriting your + respect, and that it requires of me that which I have written, + as well as much more not set down here, but of which I hope I + shall see the fruits. Come to me as soon as possible, and be + assured of a welcome. ACHSAH CLAGHORN." + +The girl smiled, though sadly, as she read this letter. She did not +resent the fact that it was confessedly inspired solely by a sense of +duty; she rather admired the writer for the uncompromising statement; +nor was she offended at the sermon contained in the epistle, or inclined +to treat it lightly. It is not probable that the writer of the letter +believed that her exhortation would sink deeply in the heart of an +"atheist," she being probably unaware that some who know not God crave a +knowledge which they find nowhere offered. + +The drive was long, the horse sleepy, the driver willing that his steed +should doze, while his passenger paid by the hour, for which reason he +had chosen the longer road by the sea. + +She looked out upon the water with a gaze of longing, as though there +might arise from out the solitary deep a vision which would solve that +great mystery, which for Miss Claghorn and such as she, was no mystery, +but wherein most of us grope as in a fog. But, as to other yearning +eyes, so to hers no vision was vouchsafed; though had her sight been +strengthened by experience, she might have seen, symbolized in the +waters, the life of man. For, against the shore the fretful waves were +spent and lost in sand, whereof each particle was insignificant, but +which in the mass absorbed the foaming billows, as the vain aspirations +of youth absorb its futile energies. Beyond was the green water, still +tireless and vexed, and then the smoother blue, as it neared the +sky-line, undisturbed, until afar the waters lay at rest in hopeless +patience, and the heavens came down and hid the secret of what lay +beyond. + +But, if youth looked with the eyes of age, there were no youth. She was +not yet to know lessons which must be hardly learned, and it was not +that one offered by the waters that she saw as she looked out upon the +ocean. Far beyond the horizon, in a distant land, her eyes beheld the +garden of a village inn where sat a girl, prattling with her father and +commenting upon two dusty strangers, who in their turn were eyeing the +maid and her companion curiously. She saw the cave, heard Leonard shout +the name--and then Mark Claghorn stood before her--as he then had stood, +in the jaunty cap and ribbon which proclaimed him "_Bursch_"; one of +those lawless beings of whom she had heard much school-girl prattle. +Even then she had contrasted the handsomer face of the simple-minded boy +beside her with the harsher and more commanding features of this +newcomer. And her fancy wandered on through pleasant German saunterings +and Parisian scenes among the churches--to the day when Berthe Lenoir +had said that Mark would be her teacher in the lore of love; and she +knew that, in the moment of that saying, she had learned the great +lesson, never to be forgotten. + +She had cherished the secret without hope or wish that he should share +it, for she knew that so sweet a thing could live in no heart but her +own; and she had not been ashamed, but had been proud of this holy +acquisition hidden in her heart of hearts. Her eyes grew limpid and her +cheeks flushed red as she recalled how the shrine of her treasure had +been profaned by the hand of one that might have known, but had +disdained its worth. In the Church of St. Roch the three who had been +present when love was born were again alone together. Berthe was now her +maid, and Mark, his university days past, was a daily visitor at her +father's house. + +The scene was clear before her as he pointed to the maid, out of +earshot, and gazing carelessly at the worshippers. "Has she +forgotten--so soon?" he said. "Are women so?" + +She had not answered. Forgotten! Who could forget? + +"I have not forgotten. I often come here, Natalie." + +She had had no words. What was it that had so joyously welled up within +her and overflowed her eyes and closed her lips? + +"I was to be your teacher, Natalie." + +She looked into his eyes, and from her own went out the secret of her +soul into his keeping; and she had been glad, and the gloomy church had +been aglow, and as they passed out the sun shone and the heavens smiled +upon a new world; for she had never seen it thus before. + +That was the short chapter of the history of her love. There had been no +other. He had ravished her secret that he might disdain it, and next day +had said a stern good-bye, spoken as though forever. + +Yet she had dared to come here, though now the impulse was strong upon +her to turn and flee from a region where he might be met. It was but an +impulse; for either she must come among these her relatives or return to +throw herself into the arms of the vacuous hussar who loved her dowry, +or failing that, into the strife and importunity from which she had +escaped. Resentful pride, too, came to her aid, bidding her not flee +from him who had disdained her love, though even so she knew that that +which had been born within her had been so fondly cherished, had grown +so mighty, that in the heart it filled there was no room for pride to +grow with equal strength. + +She turned again to the letter in her hand. Her unbelief had never +stilled the longing to believe, and now, in the hunger of her soul, the +yearning was strong. But, she asked herself, What was belief? There was +much glib talk of faith, but what was faith? Could one have faith by +saying that one had it? Was conviction mere assertion? The letter +advised her to seek enlightenment at the Throne of God. What meaning +could the words have except that she was to crave that which she had +ever craved? Her soul had always cried aloud for knowledge of God. Could +it be that formal words, repeated kneeling, would compel heaven to give +ear? Was it thus that people experienced what they called religion? Was +it so that Miss Claghorn had found it? + +Such musings came to an end with her arrival at the White House. She had +announced her coming by letter, wherefore Tabitha Cone, recognizing the +identity of the visitor and mentally pronouncing her a "stunner," +ushered her into the gloomy parlor, and informed Miss Claghorn that +"'Liph's daughter" awaited her. + +"I decided to call in person before accepting your kind invitation," +said the visitor. + +"I learn from Ellis Winter that you need a home," replied Miss Achsah, a +little stiffly, but rather from awe of this blooming creature than from +dislike. + +"I am grateful for your offer of one; but in fairness, I thought you +should know my reasons for leaving France, and essential that you should +justify me." + +Miss Claghorn assented not ungraciously. The frank demeanor of her +visitor pleased her. "A Claghorn," was her mental comment, as Natalie +told her story more in detail than Mr. Winter had done. + +"You see," she added to her narrative of the matrimonial pursuit of the +gallant de Fleury, "he is not a man that I could like, but my +cousin----" + +"You mean this French Markweeze?" + +Natalie nodded. "She is a sweet woman, and undoubtedly believed herself +right in the matter. Then it was, doubtless, a very serious +disappointment. Lieutenant de Fleury is her son; they are comparatively +poor; I am not--and so--and so----" + +"You were quite right to run away," snapped Miss Achsah, with the +emphasis born of indignation at this attempt to coerce a Claghorn. + +"It must not be forgotten that, from her point of view, my cousin was +justified in expecting me to carry out a promise made by my father. It +was this that made her so persistent and induced her to attempt measures +that were not justifiable. To her I must seem ungrateful for much +kindness." The girl's eyes glistened with tears. In fact, this view of +her conduct, which was doubtless the view of the Marquise, affected her +deeply. She did not state, though aware of the fact, that her own income +had, during her residence with her French guardian, been mainly used to +sustain and freshen the very faded glory of the house of Fleury. + +"Well, my dear," was the comment of Miss Claghorn, "I have listened to +your story and justify your course; and now I repeat my invitation." + +Had Tabitha Cone seen the gracious manner of the speaker she would have +been as surprised as was the lady herself. But in the presence of this +beautiful face, the evident honesty of the narration of the tale she had +heard, the underlying sadness beneath the serene expression, it would +have needed a harder nature than Miss Claghorn's to be anything but +gracious. But she flushed with self-reproach when Natalie touched upon +what she had for the moment completely forgotten. + +"But," exclaimed Natalie, "I have not answered the question in your +letter. The matter of religion, I was led to believe, would be to you +most important. It is to so many; the Marquise, Père Martin, Mrs. +Leon--have all been grieved--I am an infidel." + +The coolness with which this statement was made shocked her auditor even +more than the fact. The perplexed smile upon the girl's face; the +yearning look, that seemed to recognize something wanting in her, some +faculty absent which left her without a clew to the cause of the +successive shocks emanating from her--these things, if only dimly +appreciated by Miss Claghorn, were sufficiently apparent to make her +feel as though a weight had fallen upon her heart. "Oh, my child, that +is an awful thing to say!" she exclaimed. + +The way the words were uttered showed that all the tenderness, long +hidden, of the speaker's nature was suddenly called to life. No +exhortation ever heard by Natalie had so affected her as this outburst +of a hard old woman. She seized the other's hand, murmuring, "Dear +Aunt!" She pitied, even while she envied, the victim of superstition, as +the God-fearing woman pitied the errant soul. Neither understood the +source of the other's emotion, but they met in complete sympathy. The +elder woman pressed the hand that had grasped her own, and leaning +toward her grand-niece, kissed her affectionately. What old and +long-dried springs of feeling were awakened in the withered breast as +the oldest descendant of the Puritan preacher yearned over the youngest +of the line? Who shall tell? Perhaps the barren motherhood of the +ancient spinster was stirred for once; perhaps the never-known craving +for a mother's love moved the younger one. For a time both were silent. + +"Come to me to-day, at once," whispered Miss Achsah, blushing, had she +known it, and quivering strangely. + +The heartiness of the invitation troubled the visitor, whose answer was +less gracious than a chief characteristic required. "I will come +to-day," she answered. "Let it be understood as a visit only." Then she +went out, and in the lumbering carriage was driven back to Hampton. + +Miss Claghorn watched her from the window. Gradually she was recovering +herself and secretly feeling mightily ashamed, yet pleased, too. Tabitha +came in. + +"Well?" she asked. + +"Well," echoed Miss Claghorn, acidly. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Pray," replied the lady, as she ascended the stairs. + +"Must have forgot it this morning," was Miss Cone's mental comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +WHEREAT CYNICS AND MATRONS MAY SMILE INCREDULOUS. + + +When Natalie returned, Leonard was occupying his old seat in the Square, +a different man from the man she had met in the earlier morning. He had +been shocked, grieved, even terrified, and above all ashamed; yet joy +mingled with his grief, and his consciousness of new manhood was not +without its glory; and, withal, his breast was filled with a flood of +tremulous tenderness for the woman, and a longing for her forgiveness. +His emotions were sufficiently confusing to be vexing, and he had +striven to give the matter a jaunty aspect. Young men will be young men, +even when students of divinity, and he had heard more than one tale of +kisses. He had not much liked such tales, nor the bragging and +assumption of their tellers; still, a few hours since, he would have +seen no great offense in kissing a pretty woman; but a few hours since +he had not known anything about the matter. He was sure now that the +rakes of his college days, the boasters and conquerors, had been as +ignorant as he. Otherwise they could not have told of their deeds; the +thing he had done he could tell no man. + +And so, though he had but kissed a woman, he felt that kissing a woman +was a wonderful thing; and he failed in the attempt to look upon the +matter airily, as of a little affair that would have in the future a +flavor of roguishness. It was not a matter to be treated lightly; his +grief and the stabs of conscience were too sharp for that--yet he had no +remorse. He was not minded to repeat the act; he had fled from such +repetition, and he would not repeat it; neither would he regret it. It +should be a memory, a secret for hidden shame, for hidden pride, for +grief, for joy. + +He intercepted Natalie as she descended from the carriage, and, in a +brief interview in the hotel parlor, learned of her intention to return +at once to Miss Claghorn. The carriage was waiting, there was no reason +for delaying her departure; there was nothing to do but to call the +maid, and he dispatched a servant to do that. He volunteered to see to +the immediate transmission of the luggage of the travelers to +Easthampton, and made thereof an excuse for leaving before the maid +reappeared; and when once without the hotel door, and on his way to the +station, he breathed a sigh as of one relieved of a load. + +Some days passed and Leonard had not appeared at Easthampton. One +morning he received the following note from Paula: + + "Dear Leonard--I suppose you are very busy in these last days + of the term, and we all excuse your neglect of us. I shall be + at the Hampton station on Thursday, having promised to see + Natalie's maid (who don't speak English) on the evening train + for New York. Perhaps you can meet me and return with me to + dinner. Cousin Alice hopes you will." + +He was careful not to find Paula until the train had gone, and he had +assured himself that Berthe was among the passengers. Then he appeared. + +"Why, Leonard," exclaimed Paula, "have you been ill?" The tone was full +of concern. He shrank as if he had been struck. + +"No," he said; "a little anxious--troubled." + +"Over your freckled, gawky, thickshod theologues; what a pity you're not +in the Church!" + +This kind of outburst on the part of the speaker usually made Leonard +laugh. To-night his laugh sounded hollow. "I suppose your Episcopalian +students wear kids and use face powder," he said. + +"There's no harm in kid gloves; inner vileness----" + +"Is very bad, Paula; we'll not discuss it." + +They walked across the Square, on the other side of which she had left +the carriage. She looked up to his face to seek an explanation of the +irritation discoverable in his tone; she noted that his hat was drawn +down over his eyes in a way very unusual. They walked on in silence. +"You will come with me?" she asked, when they had reached the carriage. + +"Not to-night. You are right, I am not very well; it is nothing, I will +come out this week. Has Natalie discharged her maid?" + +"Not for any fault. Mrs. Leon was very glad to get Berthe, and as +Natalie is situated----" + +"I see. I hope she is comfortable with Cousin Achsah." + +"They hit it off astonishingly well. The fact is, nobody could help +loving Natalie--I am surprised that you have not been to see her." + +"I know I have seemed negligent. I have a good excuse. Where, in New +York, does Mrs. Leon live?" + +"At the Fifth Avenue Hotel," she replied, wondering at the question. + +"Well," he said, after a pause, and treating her answer as though, like +his question, it was of no real interest. "I must not keep you here. You +don't mind going home alone?" + +"I should be glad of your company; aside from that, I don't mind." + +"Then, good-bye," touching her hand for an instant. "Make my excuses to +Mrs. Joe; I have been really very busy. Home, James." He closed the +carriage door and walked rapidly away, leaving Paula vexed, to sink back +in the soft seat and to wonder. + +He walked across the Square to the region of shops and entered a large +grocery store--at this time of day, deserted. "Could you give me a bill +for fifty dollars?" he asked of the cashier. + +"I believe I can, Professor," replied the official, drawing one from the +desk, and exchanging it for the smaller bills handed him by Leonard, who +thanked him and went out. That night he enclosed the single bill in an +envelope, and addressed it to Mademoiselle Berthe, in care of Mrs. Leon. + +As he could have told no man why he had done this, so he could not tell +himself why. Cynics and matrons may smile incredulous, but the kiss he +had given and received had wrought an upheaval in this man's soul. He +who defers his kissing until he has reached maturity has much to learn, +and if the learning comes in a sudden burst of light in still and quiet +chambers, that have until now been dark, the man may well be dazzled. + +He did not think her sordid. He hoped she would understand that he sent +her that which he believed would be of use to her. But when, a week +later, he received a little box and found within it an exquisite pin, +which he, unlearned in such matters, still knew must have cost a large +part of the sum he had sent her, he was pleased, and a thrill passed +through him. Like him, she would remember, nor in her mind would there +be any thought but one of tenderness for a day that could never come +again. It would be a fair memory that would trouble him no more, but +would remain forever fair, of her who had opened to him the portals of a +new and beautiful world. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +IN THE WHITE HOUSE, A DAMSEL OR THE DEVIL--WHICH? + + +When Paula had said to Leonard that Natalie and Miss Claghorn "hit it +off astonishingly well," she had fairly indicated the harmonious +relations prevailing at the White House, as well as the general +astonishment that the elder lady had so graciously received a religious +outcast. It was true that Miss Achsah's innate benevolence was +habitually shrouded in uncompromising orthodoxy, a tough and +non-diaphanous texture, not easily penetrable by futile concern for +souls preordained to eternal death; but Natalie was of her own blood, +one of a long line of elect; furthermore, she had not been seduced by +the blandishments of the Great Serpent, but had cast her lot, where it +truly belonged, among Claghorns; and, finally, the oldest bearer of that +name was doubtless influenced by the fact that the girl was motherless +and friendless, and that she herself, paying the penalty of +independence, was, except as to Tabitha Cone, with whom she lived in +strife, alone. + +Miss Cone also approved of the visitor. This had been originally an +accident. Like the rest of the little world interested, Tabitha had +supposed that Miss Claghorn's reception of a foreign and atheistical +daughter of Beverley Claghorn would be as ungracious as was compatible +with humanity; wherefore Tabitha had been prepared, for her part, to be +extremely affable, foreseeing, with joy, many a battle with her +benefactress wherein she would have an ally; but, taken unawares, by the +time she had grasped the unexpected situation, she had become too +sincere in her admiration to change her role. She chose, however, to +announce an estimate of Natalie's character differing from that of Miss +Claghorn. "She's a Beverley down to her shins," was Miss Cone's +verdict. + +"As much of a Beverley as you are a Claghorn," was Miss Achsah's tart +rejoinder. + +"Which, thank the Lord, I'm not. One's enough in one house. For my part, +I don't admire your strong characters." + +"So that your admiration of Natalie is all pretense. I'm not surprised." + +"She strong! Poor dove, she's Susan Beverley to the life." Which may +have been true, though dove-like Natalie was not. + +Miss Claghorn made no reply except by means of a contradictory snort. + +"Now," gravely continued the inwardly jubilant Tabitha, "I call Paula +Lynford a strong character. There's a girl that'll get what she's +after." + +Something ominous in the manner of the speaker arrested the sneer on its +way. "What do you mean?" asked Miss Achsah. + +"What do all girls want--though, to be sure, you've had no experience," +observed Tabitha (who had once contemplated marriage with a mariner, who +had escaped by drowning)--"a husband." + +Miss Claghorn laughed. "Very likely. But Paula's husband will need a +dispensation--from the Pope, I suppose--since he calls himself a +Catholic." + +Tabitha echoed the laugh, less nervously and with palpable and unholy +enjoyment. "You mean her cap's set for Father Cameril. She's been +throwing dust in your eyes. She's after a minister, sure enough, but not +that one." + +"What do you mean, Tabitha Cone?" The tone of the question usually had +the effect of cowing Tabitha, but the temptation was too strong to be +resisted. + +"I mean Leonard Claghorn." + +Miss Achsah gasped. "You slanderous creature," she exclaimed, "Leonard +will never marry a mock-papist--demure puss!" + +"Leonard'll marry to suit himself, and not his forty-fifth cousin." And +with this Tabitha escaped, leaving a rankling arrow. + +As an "atheist," Natalie was a surprise to both inmates of the White +House. Their ideas of atheistic peculiarities were probably vague, but +each had regarded the arrival of the unbeliever with dread. Tabitha had +foreboded profanity, perhaps even inebriety, depravity certainly, and +she had been quite "upset," to use her own expression, by the reality. +Miss Claghorn, with due respect for family traits, had never shared +Tabitha's worst fears, but she had anticipated a very different kind of +person from the person that Natalie actually was. She had pictured a +hard, cynical, intellectual creature, critical as to the shortcomings of +creation, full of "science," and pertly obtrusive with views. She had +feared theological discussion, and though convinced that her armory +(comprised in Dr. Hodge's "Commentary on the Confession of Faith") was +amply furnished to repel atheistic assault, yet she dreaded the onset, +having, perhaps, some distrust of her own capacity for handling her +weapons. + +But the atheist was neither scientific nor argumentative. She was so +graceful, so amiable, in short, so charming, that both old women were +quickly won; so gay that both were surprised to hear their own laughter. +Sufficiently foreign to be of continual interest, and so pleased and +entertained with her new surroundings that they would have been churlish +indeed not to accept her pleasure as flattering to themselves. + +At times, indeed, both had misgivings. The devil is abroad, and it was +conceivable that in the form of this seductive creature he had +audaciously invaded the White House for prey, such as rarely fell into +his toils; but each spinster was too sure of her own call and election +to fear the enemy of souls on her individual account, and Miss Claghorn +doubted whether even the temerity of Satan would suffice for the +hopeless attempt to capture an orthodox Claghorn; and this assurance +aided the belief that Natalie, herself of the elect race, was neither +the devil's emissary, nor in the direful peril that had been feared. She +might think herself an infidel, but her time was not yet come, that was +all. + +"I am sure she has workings of the spirit," she observed to Tabitha. +"She's not always as lighthearted as you think." + +"I don't happen to think it. A good deal of that's put on." + +"Everybody don't experience grace as early as you and I." + +"Specially not in Paris," assented Miss Cone. + +"She was surely guided of the Lord in leaving the influence of Romanism +to----" + +"'Cording to your view she hasn't escaped yet; there's St. Perpetua----" + +"She's too true a Claghorn to be led into that folly." + +"I don't know," observed Miss Cone meditatively, "that the Claghorns are +less foolish than other people. There was 'Liph, her father; 'n there's +Lettie Stanley--then your brother. St. Perpetua's his monument, you +know." + +"Joseph would never have approved St. Perpetua. If he'd been a Catholic, +it wouldn't have been an imitation." + +"His wife ought to know the kind of monument he would have liked. I've +known the Claghorns long enough to know----" + +"You've known some of 'em, to your eternal welfare, Tabitha Cone." + +"I'm not aware that the family was consulted when my election was +foreordained. You think well of 'em, and I won't deny their good +qualities--but I guess the Almighty didn't have to wait until their +creation to manage." + +"You seem very sure of election. I hope you are not to be disappointed, +but you might accept the fact with some humility." + +"Your brother, Natalie's grandfather, had a license to preach--I'm not +aware that you have--he taught me that the fact was to be accepted with +joy and gladness." + +"Joy and gladness are not inconsistent with humility." + +"I'm not denyin' your right to be joyful, but your right to preach." + +"Tabitha Cone, you'd try the patience of a saint!" + +"_If_ I had the opportunity!" And so, with whetted swords they plunged +into the fray. + +The newcomer was graciously welcomed at Stormpoint, though Paula +bewailed her selection of abode, tending, as it did, to frustrate +certain plans, which were to result in alluring Natalie to the +sheltering arms of St. Perpetua. Paula was confident of the courage of +Father Cameril, but even a brave man may hesitate to pluck a jewel from +the den of a lion, and she knew that to such a den the good Father +likened the home of Miss Claghorn. + +But Mrs. Joe approved Natalie's choice. "Miss Achsah's her blood +relation," she said. + +"What is blood? An accident. Friendship is born of sympathy," protested +Paula. + +"And since that is the basis of our friendship," observed Natalie, "you +will understand that when my grand-aunt offered me a home on the ground +of duty, I also recognized a duty." + +"A home on the ground of duty," repeated Paula, with as near an approach +to a sneer as she was capable of effecting. + +"Could she feel affection, who had never seen me? Remember, she stood in +the place of mother to my father. I fear she had reason to believe that +the fact had been forgotten." + +Mrs. Joe nodded approval. + +"Inclination would have led me to you," Natalie proceeded. "It may be, +too, that I was influenced by the hope that I might, in some degree, +brighten the life of an old woman who had outlived her near relations. I +remembered how Cousin Jared, whom we all liked so well, reverenced her. +And then, I approved her pride in the name. I, too, am a Claghorn." + +"In short," commented Mrs. Joe, "you recognized a duty, as I believed +you would, and you did right. Good will come of it," she added, "a bond +between the houses." + +Nevertheless, the lady's conscience was troubled. She was naturally +candid and hospitable, yet in respect to Natalie, she had done violence +to both attributes. In that invitation, sent in accordance with her +promise to Paula, she had been careful to recognize the prior claim of +Miss Claghorn, thus virtually indicating Natalie's proper course. It had +been hard for her to close the gates of Stormpoint upon one whom she +regarded with affection, yet Mr. Hacket's counsel had outweighed +inclination. That gentleman was, indeed, teaching some hard lessons to +the lady of Stormpoint. It was almost unbearable that this wooden and +yellow man, who secretly aroused all the antagonism of which she was +capable, should direct her domestic affairs; yet she bore it smilingly, +as was seemly in a politician, whose skin may smart, but who must grin. +For, Mr. Hacket's command was wise. To add an infidel to her household +of religious suspects would be a rash act which Hampton might not +forgive. She had no doubt that Natalie's unbelief would become known, +and if it did not, the fact that she was French would presuppose +Romanism, and excite comment. Were Stormpoint to harbor a Papist, one +concerning whom there could be no saving doubt, such as existed for its +present inmates, all her plans might be jeopardized. In the eyes of the +descendants of the Puritans, the adherents of St. Perpetua would be +convicted as followers of the scarlet woman, and if the red rag of +Romanism were flaunted in seeming defiance, Mark's incipient career of +statesmanship might meet with a serious check. + +On the other hand, there was comfort in the thought that all unpleasant +possibilities would be avoided by Natalie's sojourn with Miss Achsah. +Infidel or Romanist, in whatever light regarded, the dwellers in +Easthampton would know with approval that the competent owner of the +White House had the stray sheep in charge, and would anticipate +triumphant rescue of the endangered soul, providentially sheltered where +food of life would be daily offered. There would be also general +satisfaction that to Miss Achsah had been given a task worthy the +exercise of those energies which, in the cause of truth, she was apt to +exhibit in domestic circles not her own, to the great terror of the +members thereof. Mrs. Joe, herself, could find occasion to evince +commendation of the expected efforts of Miss Claghorn, and, while +placating that lady, could emphasize her own Protestantism. In fact, +several birds might be slain with this single stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +SUR LE PONT D'AVIGNON ON Y DANSE, ON Y DANSE. + + +It was, perhaps, because she was conscience-stricken that Mrs. Joe +essayed to make atonement to Natalie by being especially confiding with +her. We know, also, that she saw an opportunity of strengthening those +bonds between Stormpoint and the White House, which Mr. Hacket insisted +it was advisable to make as close as possible; for it became day by day +more evident that Miss Achsah had taken her new inmate into her heart of +hearts; other motives there may have been; certain it is that next to +her yellow adviser, whom she loathed with a deeper loathing each time +that she saw him anew, she opened her heart to Natalie in regard to +those cherished projects which concerned Mark. + +"I want to see him famous," she said. "It will be harder for him than +for others, because of this wretched money." + +"He has more talent than most, and, I think, sincerity," replied +Natalie, pausing on the last word. + +The elder lady looked sharply at the speaker. The two were alone +together; occasionally they could hear the strains of Paula's organ from +the distant music-room. "You saw much of him after he left the +University?" she questioned. + +"Yes, he was with us constantly for a time." The widow had a fine sense +of hearing, which she strained to the utmost to note what might be told +in the tone that remained untold by the words. She was quite aware that +Mark had been for weeks a daily visitor, if not an actual inmate, of the +household of Beverley Claghorn. She had herself arranged that it should +be so; but she had not then feared possibilities, which had engaged her +thoughts a good deal since she had heard of the rupture between the +Marquise and Natalie. The tone of the girl's voice told her nothing, and +the eyes that met her own were serene. + +"I wished Mark to remain abroad until Stormpoint was complete. I wished +to surprise him, and impress him with the fact that I am in earnest, +that this place is but a means to an end." + +"It is a beautiful and a fitting home for what he is and aspires to be." + +"It will help. What has he said to you about Stormpoint?" + +"You forget that I have not seen him since he made its acquaintance." + +"Surely he was not so neglectful as not to write!" + +"He wrote to my father. I don't recall what he said about Stormpoint." + +The eyes bent upon the girl, who looked steadily out of the window at +the sea, were keen and questioning. "Pardon me, Natalie, I hope the +breach between you and the Marquise is not irreparable," said the lady +softly. + +Natalie looked up smiling. "Indeed, I hope not. I am not angry with her, +though she is with me." + +"I can hardly be sorry that you disappointed her--I never fancied her +lieutenant--but I was surprised. I had supposed the matter settled with +your consent." + +"My dear father, it seems, did so arrange it. I quite appreciate her +standpoint and know that she has much to forgive. Naturally, she +approves of the customs of her country. Unfortunately, I was not trained +strictly _à la mode Française_." + +"The French custom as regards betrothal is repulsive; but I supposed you +were French--and----" + +"I must have inherited independent views. I might have acquiesced had I +not seen too much of Adolphe. You are not to think badly of him--only +that he is unendurable." + +"That is more damning than faint praise," laughed Mrs. Joe; "but I +understand. Well, my dear, since you decline to become a 'female +Markis,' as Mr. Weller has it, we must do as well for you as possible in +a republic that offers no nobles." + +"I am quite content with things as they are." + +"That, of course, is eminently proper; but we are all slaves of destiny +and there is one always possible to maidens. We shall select a permanent +city home as soon as I can consult Mark; meanwhile we shall not spend +our winters here; and in the winter Miss Achsah must reward our +forbearance by surrendering you to us." + +"I shall be glad to be with you and Paula sometimes; but, Mrs. Joe, you +know I am only visiting my aunt. I intend to have a home of my own." + +"That will come. Perhaps it will be with me for a time, if you can bear +with another old woman. Mark and Paula will want their own +establishment. Of course, they'll have Stormpoint." + +She had sped her bolt. If it had been needless, it was harmless; if it +had wounded, so much the more was it needed. But she felt mean--in the +proper frame to meet Mr. Hacket, who was announced, to the relief of +both. + +The distant organ notes must have been pleasing to the ear, for, after +Mrs. Joe had gone, Natalie sat long, listening and motionless; they must +have been tender, for tears glistened in her eyes. When they ceased she +rose and left the room and the house. In the grounds she found Paula, +who said, "I came out at this moment, and saw that," pointing to the +buggy; "then I knew that you would soon be here." + +They strolled to a sheltered nook of the cliffside, and thence looked +out upon the silver sea, peaceful under the summer sky. + +"One could hardly believe that it could ever be angry," said Paula, "but +you shall see it in fury; then it will be awful." + +"It is awful now." + +"Now!" exclaimed Paula. "Why, it is as serene as the sky above it." + +"But think what it hides. Listen to the moan; see the swell of its heavy +sighs." + +"Natalie, I have discovered something!" + +"Like Columbus," laughed Natalie. + +"You are like the sea to-day. The surface wavelets laugh in the glint of +the sun; but sadness is beneath. The sea hides sorrow; and you are so. +You and Mark----" + +And there she stopped. The other knew why. Paula was looking straight at +her face, and she knew that her face had suddenly told a story. + +"Does the sea remind you of Mark?" she asked in even tones, guarding her +secret in her manner of utterance. + +"Of both of you," answered Paula, who had quickly turned a somewhat +troubled gaze upon the water. "Natalie," she added, rather hurriedly, +"there is a balm for every sorrow, a sure one. _That_"--she slightly +emphasized the word--"is why I thought of you in connection with Mark. +Ah, if he were only religious!" + +"Then he would be perfect, you think." She laughed, and Paula laughed, +but the merriment seemed hollow. + +"Nobody can be perfect," said Paula, after the pause which had followed +the unmeaning mirth. She spoke in a low tone and timidly, but for that +reason all the more engagingly; "but so far as perfection can be +attained, it can only be with the aid of religion." + +It was one of the words in season, which Natalie had become accustomed +to hear from those about her, and which from this exhorter she always +liked to hear. There was an atmosphere of calm about Paula and a +serenity in her face which fascinated the unbeliever. And her +admonitions, if timidly uttered, were sincere. It was as though the +young preacher, though longing for a convert, feared to frighten the +disciple away. + +Natalie bent over and kissed the girl's cheek. "Is he unhappy? Mark, I +mean." + +"His life is evidence that he is not happy. He wanders aimlessly. Cousin +Alice built Stormpoint for him, yet he leaves it." + +"His large interests compel his wanderings." + +"He has agents who make them unnecessary. Cousin Alice needs him." + +"You would be glad to have him home?" + +Paula looked up; her sparkling eyes answered the question. There was a +pause. + +"I hope he will come," said Natalie, after awhile, "and that you will +have your wish." + +"That he will become religious? I pray for it, so it must come." + +Natalie took her hand and held it. "And you believe that religion +insures happiness?" She was willing to hold on to this topic. + +"I know it. The peace of God which passeth understanding. Do not turn +from it, Natalie." + +"I do not. I am not a scoffer. I think that I, too, could love God, only +I am densely ignorant." + +"But you can be enlightened. Father Cameril----" + +Natalie smiled. "I hardly think he would be the teacher I would choose. +I would prefer you." + +"To enlighten your ignorance! I am myself ignorant. I believe--I know no +more." This sounded prettily from pretty lips, and Paula was honest; +but, as a matter of fact, she had some theological pretensions, a truth +which she for the moment forgot. + +"How is that possible?" asked the infidel. "I could believe, if I knew." + +"We cannot understand everything." + +"No--almost nothing, therefore----" + +"We have a revelation." + +"Which reveals nothing to me. I wish it did." + +"Natalie, you demand too much. We are not permitted to know everything. +We cannot be divine." + +"And yet we can speak very positively; as if, indeed, we knew it +all--some of us. But if nobody knows, nobody can be sure." + +"I cannot argue; but I can tell you who tells me. God Himself. God +speaks to the heart." + +"Paula," cried the other, with startling earnestness, "I, too, have a +heart. Teach me how to believe, and of all the wise you will be the +wisest. Do I not know that life is barren? that the love of man cannot +fill the heart? Ah! Paula, if that can do it, teach me the love of God!" + +The tone rose almost to a cry. Paula was awed as a perception of the +truth came upon her that here was a skeptic with religious longings +greater than her own. "Natalie," she murmured, hiding her face on the +shoulder of her companion, "we are told to ask. Pray, Natalie, to the +One that knows it all." + +"And will you pray for me?" + +"I do." + +"And do you pray for Mark?" + +"Surely." + +"And you know that my prayers will be answered?" + +"I know it--in God's good time." + +"I will pray, Paula." + +They kissed one another, as though sealing a compact. No doubt Paula +breathed a petition for her who, still in darkness, craved for light. +Natalie prayed for the happiness of Mark Claghorn, and that she might +forget him and resign him to the saint whose lips she pressed. + +Then she went home. In the hall of the White House she met Tabitha. +"Come!" she exclaimed, seizing that elderly damsel about the waist. +"_Dansons_, Tabitha; hop, skip! _Sur le pont d'Avignon on y danse, on y +danse!_" and she trilled her lay and whirled the astonished spinster +around until both were breathless. + +"My sakes! Have you gone crazy?" exclaimed Tabitha. + +"Come to my senses!" replied Natalie, laughing merrily. + +"I never saw you so French before," was Tabitha's comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +WARBLINGS IN THE WHITE HOUSE AND SNARES FOR A SOUL. + + +Achsah Claghorn, for many years lonely, with maternal instincts steadily +suppressed, had found the first opportunity of a long life to gratify +cravings of which she had been until now unconscious. Coyly, even with +trembling, she sought the love of her grand-niece, being herself +astonished, as much as she astonished others, by an indulgent tenderness +seemingly foreign to her character. Grandmothers, though once severe as +mothers, are often overfond in their last maternal role, and it may be +that Miss Claghorn pleased herself by the fiction of a relationship +which, though not actually existent, had some foundation in long-past +conditions. + +"Did your father never speak of me?" she asked. + +"Often, Aunt. Especially of late years, after we had met Cousin Jared." + +"But not with much affection?" + +Natalie was somewhat at a loss. "He said you were his second mother," +was her reply. + +"Poor Susan--that was your grandmother, my dear. She was a gentle, +loving creature. I think now, though perhaps I did not at the time, that +'Liph was lonely after she died. Ours was a dull house," she continued, +after a pause. "Your grandfather lived more in heaven than on earth, +which made it gloomy for us that didn't. Saints are not comfortable to +live with, and 'Liph was often in disgrace. I hope I was never hard to a +motherless boy, but--but----" + +"I am sure you were not. My father never said so." + +"Yet he forgot me. Perhaps it was pleasanter not to remember." + +There was no reply to make. Natalie knew that her father had been so +well content to forget his relatives that, until the unexpected meeting +in Germany, her own knowledge of the Claghorns had been very vague. + +"'Liph did write me when he married, even promised to come and see me, +but he never came." + +Miss Claghorn forgot the fact that in reply to her nephew's letter she +had deplored his connection with Romanism and had urged instant +attention to the duty of converting his wife. The philosopher may have +justly enough felt that there could be but little sympathy between +himself and one whose congratulations on his nuptials were in part a +wail of regret, in part an admonitory sermon. + +"You know, Aunt, he did intend to come." + +"To see Mrs. Joe--well, no doubt he would have been glad to see me, too. +I am sorry we never met after so many years." + +Besides the tenderness displayed to Natalie alone, there were evidences +of change in the mistress of the White House, apparent to all; and while +these were properly ascribed to the new inmate, the fact that that +influence could work such wonders excited surprise. The neighbors were +astonished to behold the novel sight of perennially open parlor windows, +and thought with misgiving upon the effect of sunshine on Miss +Claghorn's furniture. At times strange sounds issued from the hitherto +silent dwelling, operatic melodies, or snatches of chansons, trilled +forth in a foreign tongue. "The tunes actually get into my legs," +observed Tabitha to a neighbor. "The sobber de mong pare'd make an elder +dance," an assertion which astonished the neighbor less than Miss Cone's +familiarity with the French language. But comment was actually stricken +dumb when both Miss Claghorn and Tabitha appeared in public with sprigs +of color in their headgear and visible here and there upon their +raiment. + +"I believe you'd bewitch Old Nick himself," observed Tabitha. + +"I have," replied Natalie. "He's promised me a shrub." + +"I don't mean Nick that brings the garden sass," and the spinster +groaned at the benighted condition of one so ignorant as to fail to +recognize a familiar appellation of the enemy of souls. "You've worked +your grand-aunt out of a horse." + +"Your voice is that of an oracle, Tab, and I, who am stupid, do not +understand." + +"She's going to give you a horse." + +"Then should you not rather say that I have worked a horse out of my +grand-aunt? which is still oracular; wherefore expound, Tab." + +"She told me herself. It's my belief she's in love with you. She'd give +you her head, if you asked." + +"She's given me her heart, which is better. And so have you; and you're +both ashamed of it. Why is that, Tabby?" + +"Well," replied Tabitha, making no denial, "you see we're not +French--thank God! When we were young we were kept down, as was the +fashion." + +"I do not like that fashion." + +"You'd like it less if you knew anything about it. It has to come out +some time; that's the reason your songs get into my legs, and----" + +"And?" questioningly, for Tabitha had paused. + +"Well, your aunt was never in love--never had the chance, 's far's I +know; but if she had, it had to be kept down--and now it comes out. +Lucky it didn't strike an elder with a raft of children and no money." + +"Much better that it has struck me than an elder--that will be a friar. +I have no children, some money and a whole heart. But this tale of a +horse?" + +"Ever since you told us about ridin' in the Bawdy Bolone she's had +Leonard on the lookout. He's found one over to Moffat's. She wants you +to look at it before she buys." + +"But----" + +"I know--you've money of your own to buy horses. That's what she's +afraid you'll say. You mustn't. She's set her heart on it." + +The horse was accepted without demur, if with some secret misgiving as +to adding a new link to the chain which was binding her to Easthampton; +and it was peculiarly grateful. Ever since that day when Natalie had +astonished Tabitha by improvising a waltz, her gaiety had been +feverish, almost extravagant, the result of a craving for physical +excitement; the desire to jump, to run, to leap, to execute for +Tabitha's delectation dances which would have made Miss Claghorn stare. +The horse in some degree filled the craving. She rode constantly, +sometimes alone, galloping wildly in secluded lanes; sometimes sedately +with Paula and an attendant; often with Leonard, an ardent equestrian, a +fact not forgotten by the donor of the horse when the gift was made. + +In the eyes of Miss Achsah, as in other eyes, Leonard embodied the +finest type of the fine race to which he belonged, combining in his +person physical graces not generally vouchsafed to these favorites of +heaven, as well as those nobler attributes with which they had been so +liberally endowed, and which rendered them worthy of the celestial +preference. It was religious to believe that these graces of person and +of manner were not given without a purpose, and aided by the same pious +deduction which usually recognizes in similar charms a snare of Satan, +Miss Claghorn beheld in this instance a device of Providence for winning +a soul. + +Besides the facilities for conversion thus utilized, Miss Achsah +discerned other grounds for hope. In the frequent lapses into +thoughtfulness, even sadness, on the part of the unbeliever, she +recognized the beginning of that spiritual agitation which was to result +in the complete submission of the erring soul to heaven; nor was she +negligent in dropping those words which, dropped in season, may afford +savory and sustaining food to a hungry spirit. Had Natalie displayed +that mental agony and tribulation which naturally accompanies the fear +of hell, and which is, therefore, a frequent preliminary terror of +conversion, Miss Claghorn would have called in her pastor, as in +physical ills she would have called in the doctor; but since Natalie +displayed nothing more than frequent thoughtfulness and melancholy, and, +as with some natures (and the lady knew it was true of the Claghorn +nature) antagonism is aroused by over-solicitude, she easily persuaded +herself that, for the present at least, the case was better in the +competent hands of Leonard, to whom she solemnly confided it. She feared +the treatment of a more experienced, yet perhaps harsher practitioner, +whose first idea would be the necessity of combating Romanism. For the +secret of Natalie's unbelief remained undisclosed, and Miss Claghorn +dreaded such disclosure as sure to bring disgrace upon the family name. +Finally, she had another reason, not the least important, for providing +Leonard with the chance of winning that soul, which she hoped would +become for him the most precious of the souls of men. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE SECRET OF HER HEART WAS NEVER TO BE TOLD BY HER TO HIM. + + +"She must be warned from Father Cameril," said Miss Claghorn. + +"Do you suppose _he_ could influence her?" observed Leonard scornfully. +"I shall not forget my duty, Cousin Achsah. Meanwhile, remember that she +is a Claghorn. That means something." + +"A great deal; still, there was her father--and Lettie Stanley----" + +"I think you are rather hard on her. I believe that Mrs. Stanley is a +good woman." + +"Will goodness alone attain heaven?" + +Leonard did not answer. Mrs. Stanley's chances of heaven had no great +interest for him. + +If he seemed somewhat less solicitous than Miss Claghorn had expected it +was because already his musings were tending in a direction not +theological. "How lovely she is!" This had been his thought on his first +visit to Easthampton, while Natalie's little hand still lay in his in +welcome. He noted, as he watched her afterward, the fitful sadness of +her eyes, and longed to share her unknown sorrow. He saw the ripe red +lips and his bosom glowed, his eyes grew dreamy and his cheeks flushed +pink. He had never, so Paula averred, been as handsome as on that +evening. + +He was now a daily visitor, equally welcome at the White House or at +Stormpoint, and the relations between the two establishments were such +that a hope arose within the bosom of Mrs. Joe that she might be able to +report to Mr. Hacket that Miss Claghorn had actually dined with the +Bishop. She ventured to confide to Miss Achsah certain aspirations in +regard to Mark, and her confidence was well received and her plans +applauded. Miss Claghorn thought it fitting that Mark, who was nearer +to her in blood than Leonard, should assume in worldly affairs that +eminence which in higher matters would be Leonard's. It was plain that +when the time came such influence as she possessed would be used in +Mark's behalf, barring some untoward circumstance, which Mrs. Joe was +resolved should not occur. And to prevent it she warned Father Cameril +that his wiles were not to be practised upon Natalie. His prayers, her +own and Paula's, she informed him, must, for the present, suffice. She +was aware that Miss Claghorn had personally taken charge of a matter +which, to do Mrs. Joe justice, she regarded as of supreme importance. +But, St. Perpetua notwithstanding, her opinions were liberal. She +supposed that good people went to heaven, and she was not sternly rigid +in her definition of goodness. As to where bad people went, her ideas +were vague. She did not question Miss Claghorn's Christianity, though +she did not admire its quality, but she knew that on the first attempt +to entice Natalie by the allurements presented by St. Perpetua, the +bonds of amity now existing would be strained. She even went so far as +to assure her sister-in-law that Father Cameril should be "kept in his +place," an assurance which was accepted with the grim rejoinder that it +were well that he be so kept. + +Wherefore, it would seem that those exalted aspirations which had warmed +Leonard's bosom, when he had learned from Paula that his French cousin +was to be a resident of Easthampton, would be reawakened, and that he +would gladly attempt their realization. Alas! other, and more alluring +visions, engaged his senses. + +To say that he had loved the maid, Berthe, is only to say that which +would be true of any man of similar temperament under similar +circumstances. The kiss of those lips, over which he had so rapturously +lingered, had been his first taste of passion. It may be a sorrowful, +but it is not a surprising, fact, that it should affect him violently +and color his dreams of a sentiment hitherto unknown. He had taken a +long step in a pathway which was to lead him far, though he was as +ignorant of the fact as he was of the fact that, in this respect, his +education had commenced unfortunately. + +He was sufficiently a man of the world to be aware that the emotion in +which he had reveled could have no satisfactory result. He would no more +have considered the advisability of marrying Natalie's maid than would +the Marquis de Fleury; and as to any other possibility, such as +perchance might have occupied the mind of the noble Marquis, it never +even entered his thoughts. In his ignorance he was innocent, and had he +been less so, would still have possessed in the moral lessons of his +training a sufficient safeguard. Yet the kiss was to have its results. +Woman's lips would, to him, bear a different aspect from that of +heretofore. + +And so the days passed very happily, though Leonard's conscience often +pricked him. Natalie's soul was still in danger. + +"Cousin," he said one day--they were sitting among the trees of +Stormpoint, the girl sketching, he watching her--"Do you----?" He +stopped, blushing. + +She thought the blush very engaging as she looked up with a smile. Women +rarely looked upon the handsome, innocent face, except smilingly. "Do I +what, Leonard?" she asked. + +"Do you ever think of religion? I am a clergyman, Natalie." + +"I think a great deal of religion." Her eyes fell before his. He had +touched a secret corner of her heart, and at first she shrank; yet the +touch pleased her; not less so because of his manner which, though he +was secretly ashamed of it, was in his favor. It was not easy for him to +discuss the topic with her, to play the role of teacher and enlarge upon +a theme which was far from his thoughts. The fact lent him the grace of +embarrassment, leading her to believe that the topic was to him a sacred +one. Truly, her soul was burdened. Who more apt to aid her than this +young devotee, who had consecrated a life to that knowledge for which +she yearned? + +"You know, Natalie, as a minister----" + +"It is your duty to convert me," she interrupted, looking again upward, +and smiling. "That is what Tabitha says." + +"Perhaps Tabitha is right. I think I ought." + +"Suppose you were to try, what would you have me do?" + +What would he have her do? The man within him cried: "I would have you +love me, kiss me, pillow my head upon your breast and let me die there!" +But the man within him was audible only to him. "I would advise you to +read"--he stopped. What he had been about to say was so utterly +incongruous--to advise reading the Westminster Confession, when he +longed to call upon her to read the secrets of his soul! + +"I have read enough," she answered. "Lately I have done better"--she +hesitated; he noted the flushed cheek and downcast eyes, the tremulous +tone of her voice. She was affected, he believed, religiously. He +remembered the day on the terrace of Heidelberg, when he had so yearned +over the wandering soul, and again with his love--for he knew it was +love, and always had been--was mingled the higher aspiration to +reconcile the wayward spirit with its Maker. He would have taken her +hand, but he felt tremulously shy. "What have you done?" he asked +gently. + +Much had been told her of the sweet relief of confession to a priest. +Here was a confessor, sympathetic, she knew from his tone. Yet she had +no sins to confess (belief in which incongruity demonstrates her state +of darkness). + +"I--have prayed," she said at length, and the shy admission seemed to +create a bond between them. Another shared her confidence, and the fact +lightened her spirit. She told herself it was so, and had it been true +the future might have been brighter; but the real secret of her heart +was never to be told by her to him. She looked up, a faint sheen of +tears in her eyes, a smile upon her lips. + +"Indeed, you have done better," he answered, the eyes and the smile +summoning that inner man with a power hard to resist. "You need no +guidance from me," he said huskily. "God bless and help you, Natalie!" +He placed a trembling hand upon her head, as was seemly in a priest, +and, turning abruptly, walked away. + +"Ah!" she sighed, as she watched him. "There must be something in +religion. Fräulein Rothe was right, and my dear father was wrong." + +Thus Leonard's fears concerning Natalie's salvation were quieted. If she +prayed, it was plain that she was called, and though her ears might +still be deaf, she would hear in the appointed time. + +Had he comprehended her utter misapprehension as to orthodox tenets, he +might have been awakened to a stricter sense of duty. But this was his +first heathen, and he is hardly to be blamed that he did not recognize +the extent of her ignorance; or, in his lack of knowledge of humanity, +at all to be blamed that he failed to discern the true nature of her +religious cravings, alluring to her soul because her soul was hungry; +for God, perhaps--for who shall say that God has no part in human +love?--but not for Leonard's God. He had never been informed of the +deceased philosopher's method of training, and would, certainly, have +doubted its success had he known of it. That one could attain years of +discretion in a Christian country, lacking even an elementary knowledge +of Christian doctrine, would have been to Leonard incredible. He could +not remember the time that he had not known that in Adam's fall we all +fell, and that had there been no Atonement there would be no Salvation. +For so much, and similar doctrinal essentials, he accorded Natalie full +credit; and, since she had escaped the taint of Romanism, he felt that +no real obstacle stood in the way of her growth in grace. + +Meanwhile, Natalie had no more knowledge that, unless her name had been +from before creation inscribed upon the roll of the elect, she must, for +the glory of God, infallibly be damned, than has a Patagonian. She felt +that outside of humanity there was something on which humanity must +lean, and that it was God. Priests, sisters of charity and sweet girls +like Paula knew about God, and all these had told her that the way to +find out what they knew was to pray; and, in her outer darkness, she +prayed, her prayers the prayers of a heathen; not heard in heaven, if we +are correctly informed as to heaven's willingness to hear. Yet to her +they brought some solace. And in her petitions for enlightenment of her +ignorance, she besought happiness for others, not for Mark Claghorn +only; henceforth she included the name of Leonard. + +As for him, he was no longer haunted by troublesome recollections of +Berthe. He thought of her, it is true, and with tenderness, though with +a smile, and accusing himself of youthfulness. He was now sure that he +had never seriously loved her. It had been a _penchant_, a _petit +amour_--the Gallic flavor of the words was not altogether +ungrateful--and the experience would have its uses. These things +happened to some men; happy they who escaped them; a humdrum life was +safer. Sinning was dangerous; to weaklings, fatal; such a one would have +been burned in the ordeal of fire. He had escaped, nor had he any +intention of being again taken unawares. He did not attempt to palliate +the grave wrong of which he had been guilty; he would have resented such +palliation on the part of an apologist. In certain sins there lurks a +tinge of glory, and one has a right, accepting the blame, to appropriate +the glory. But his resolve that the one misstep should be the last, as +it had been the first of his life, was sternly made. He was strong now, +and was glad to admit that much of his strength derived its power from a +sweeter passion glowing in his bosom. His heart swelled with joy that he +could love, feeling only such misgivings as lovers must. It was a sin to +love and long for Berthe whom he wouldn't marry. To transfer to Natalie +the love he had given to Berthe, to hunger and to burn, to feed his eyes +upon the outward form, unheeding the fairer creature within, to revel in +visions and forbidden dreams--this was love, this the lesson his +carefully guarded life had prepared him to learn from wanton lips. + +Who, being in love, has not shown himself to the loved one at his best? +If he was unquiet within, he was sufficiently tranquil in manner to +avoid any startling manifestation of ardor. If there was art in the +graceful coyness of his approach, it was unconscious art. To Natalie he +appeared with more alluring gentleness, and surer fascination, than the +most practised veteran of love's battles. She had seen chivalrous +elegance so studied as to charm by its seeming unaffectedness; but the +most successful picture is not reality, and in Leonard she noted the +nature superior to art; nature softened and adorned by demeanor graced +and made tender by the inward tremors of love, as a rugged landscape is +beautified by the mellow tint of a gray day. + +Above all, though if this was known in secret it was unconfessed, was +Leonard aided by that which was to be forever hidden in the woman's +heart. There were rumors of Mark's return, rumors which agitated +Natalie, strive as she might to look forward to that return without +emotion. How could she leave the home where love had been so generously +bestowed? Mrs. Joe would no longer be ashamed that she had given her +warning--and Natalie had not been sorry to believe that the lady was +ashamed--for she would know that it had been needed. And Miss +Claghorn--how would she understand it? How Paula? Perhaps she saw, if +but dimly yet, an escape from the perplexities which inspired the +questions. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A LOVER WRITES A LETTER. + + +If a Parisian philosopher, animated by the love of that wisdom which is +deducible by philosophic methods from the study of mankind, had emerged +from his abode, on a certain summer evening, in quest of the solution of +that great riddle, Why is this thus? and, seeking an answer, had scanned +the visages of the passers upon the Boulevard, he would, perhaps, have +noticed the face and bearing of a man who strolled alone and listless; +and, it being a fine evening of early summer, at an hour when, +philosophers having dined, are ruminative, he might have fallen into +speculation, and asking himself the meaning of this man's face, would, +perhaps, have deduced discontent, becoming habitual and tending toward +cynicism; and if a philosopher of the weeping, rather than the laughing +variety, he would have mourned over the atom of humanity, beneath whose +careworn lines and shadows of dissatisfaction there lay forgotten noble +promise. And, to sum up the philosophic conclusions (for, like other +philosophers, our hypothetical lover of wisdom is growing tiresome) he, +being aware of the cause of much mundane misery, might have decided that +the man had lost money, and would have been wrong, for the man was one +whom financial loss could hardly touch. The Great Serpent might refuse +to yield for weeks, aye forever, and Mark Claghorn would have been +content. In truth, its annual product was a burden heavier than he +thought he ought, in fairness, to be called upon to bear. He liked +companionship, being naturally well disposed toward his fellows, yet, as +he said to himself, the loneliness of this evening stroll in the centre +of mirth and good fellowship had its reason in his wealth. A man such as +he, so he told himself, is forced, in the nature of things, to purchase +all the joys of life, and being purchased they had but slight attraction +for him; thus ordinarily he was solitary and somewhat given to +brooding, though wise enough to utter no complaint on a score wherein he +certainly would have found but slight sympathy. + +He strolled on, paying little heed to any, except when occasionally the +clank of a sabre or the faint jingle of a spur signified a cavalryman in +the vicinity; then he would glance at the cavalryman, and with a quickly +satisfied curiosity, pass on, listless as before. + +He entered a cafe, and calling for a "bock," lit a cigar and proceeded +to seek distraction in tobacco and beer, while looking over the pages of +the "_Vie Parisienne_," but apparently found no amusement in that very +Gallic periodical. At last he drew a letter from his pocket. "Little +Paula," he muttered, as he opened the sheet, and his tone was kindly, if +not tender. "I suppose, in the end, my mother will see the fulfilment of +the wish she thinks so carefully concealed," he muttered, and then, as +if to find encouragement to filial duty in the letter itself, he +commenced to read, and was thus engaged when he felt a hand upon his +shoulder, and heard the exclamation, "Claghorn!" He looked up and, +rising, accepted the outstretched hand of Adolphe de Fleury. + +"I was not sure whether it was you or your ghost," said Adolphe. "When +did you leave America?" + +"Over a year since," replied Mark; then, unmindful of the look of +surprise in the face of his companion, he added: "I hoped I might meet +you. I am only here for a few hours, and the opportunity to congratulate +you----" + +"To congratulate! May I ask why I am to be congratulated?" interrupted +the lieutenant. + +"Usually a newly married man; or one about to be----" + +"Claghorn, you can hardly--do you mean that you believed me married?" + +"Married, or about to be. I heard from the Marquise while at St. +Petersburg----" + +"And I have suspected you! Know, my dear fellow, though I had rather you +heard it from somebody else, that I am very far from married. I am +jilted; abandoned by our fair but cruel cousin, who has fled from my +mother's protection and taken refuge among the Yankees." + +"Do you mean that Natalie is in America?" + +"Just that, _mon cher_, and with her Berthe of the wonderful eyes." + +Mark's innocence of all knowledge of the fact stated was evident in his +face. He was astounded; at the same time a sense of joy swept across his +soul. He looked hastily at his watch; it was too late to call upon the +Marquise, unless, indeed, she had company, in which case he would not be +able to see her alone. But, looking at his watch inspired him with an +excuse to plead an appointment, which he did, and left his companion. + +The next day he called upon Madame de Fleury, and on his return to his +hotel, he wrote the following letter: + + "My Dear Cousin Natalie--Last night I arrived here direct from + St. Petersburg, being merely a bird of passage, and on my way + to London. I had expected to be there by this time, but after + meeting Adolphe de Fleury, I deferred my departure until I + could see the Marquise. Doubtless, my letters in London will + convey the information which has been imparted by her. To say + that I was surprised to hear that you had gone to America + hardly expresses my feeling; but surprise is cast into the + shade by gratification. Now that your reasons for the step you + have taken have been so freely disclosed to me by Madame de + Fleury (who insisted upon reading to me passages from your + letters), I hope you will not regard it as intrusive in me if I + express my admiration of your independence and complete + approbation of your conduct. You are in spirit a true American, + and I congratulate both you and our country upon the fact. Do + you remember the day I said 'good-bye' to you? Had you then any + inkling of the true reason for my adieu? Your father had just + informed me that since girlhood you had been the betrothed of + Adolphe de Fleury. Monsieur Claghorn at the time assured me + that had not this been the case I should have had his good + wishes in regard to the aspirations I had just laid before him. + I have never laid those aspirations before you, nor can I do so + adequately in a letter; nor at this time, when so long a period + has elapsed since I last saw you. What I have to say must be + said in person, and so unsatisfactory is this method of + addressing you on the subject that I may not send this letter. + + "But, if you receive it, understand why I write it. It seems, + perhaps, laughable--though it does not seem so to me--that I + should be haunted by a terror which darkens the new hope that + has arisen within me. You are thousands of miles away. True, it + is not easily conceivable that you may become lost to me in so + brief a residence in America, yet the idea is constantly with + me. I blame that which I then believed the honorable reticence + which I ought to maintain toward you after my interview with + your father, and having heard his assurances of intentions, + which I, of course, supposed were approved by you. Had I shown + you the least glimpse of a sentiment which it cost me much to + conceal, I might now be freed from the dread which oppresses + me. I am even tempted to send you a telegraphic message; yet I + picture you reading such a message and shrink from seeming + ridiculous in your eyes. As to this letter, I am impelled to + say as much as I have said while that which I desire to say is + plainly enough indicated. I had supposed it possible to + disclose and yet conceal it. But the letter is wiser than I + intended it to be. My most ardent hope is that within a few + days after its receipt you will listen to all that is here + omitted. + + "Faithfully, + + "MARK CLAGHORN." + +He sent the letter, unsatisfactory and feeble as he knew it to be. He +chafed at the necessity of deferring his departure for America; but the +Great Serpent was importunate, and even for love a man cannot disregard +the claims of others. Engagements connected with the mine, made long +since, must receive attention before he could leave Europe. + +But, during the intervals of business, even pending its details, he was +hourly tempted to send a dispatch and be ridiculous. But he refrained. +He sailed for America four days after sending the letter. He had not +been absurd; his dignity was saved. Who that is wise in a wise +generation listens to intuitions? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A KISS THAT MIGHT HAVE LINGERED ON HIS LIPS WHILE SEEKING ENTRANCE AT +THE GATE OF HEAVEN. + + +At the foot of the cliff whereon Mrs. Joe had erected a monument to the +Great Serpent in the form of a castle, the ocean beats in calm weather +with a sullen persistence which increases with the rising wind from +spiteful lashing into furious pounding against the unshaken crag, +accompanied by a roar of futile rage. Stormpoint affords no nook of +shelter for a distressed craft, and the rocks, submerged beneath the +vexed waters, render the coast hereabout even more dangerous than does +the sheer wall of stone which appals the mariner caught in the storm and +driven shoreward. Once around the point, the little harbor of +Easthampton offers safety, but it has happened that vessels, unable to +weather Stormpoint, have been dashed against the rocks and human beings +have been tossed about in the seething foam beneath the crags; or men +have clung to wreckage in sight of wailing wives and mothers, and of +children to be orphaned in the rush of the next black billow. + +From the rocks hereabout no lifeboat can be launched at times when +lifeboats are needed, therefore the coast-guard station is nearer the +harbor, where there is a beach upon which the waves slide upward, +spending their strength, and where even in the storm they can be ridden +by resolute men; but no boat can live among the rocks in the raging +waters beneath the cliff. And so, Mrs. Joe, with the approval of the +authorities, had built on the ledge of the cliffside (enlarged and +widened for the purpose) a house, in which were kept appliances for +casting lines athwart wrecked craft. There were plenty to ridicule the +benevolent lady, some on the score of the futility of preparing for an +improbable disaster (less than a dozen ships had been lost there in a +century; and probably not, in all that time, a hundred lives); others +because while yet another ship might be driven thither, no human effort +could then avert her doom. Mrs. Joe, notwithstanding these arguments, +carried out her intention, and waited, hoping that she would never be +justified by the event. + +One day Natalie and Leonard were in the "wreck house," as the structure +had come to be called; a high wind, constantly increasing, was blowing, +and from their position they saw all the grandeur of the ocean, rolling +in majesty toward the wall of rock, an assailing mass, seeming inspired +with malevolent intelligence and boundless strength, but, caught by the +sunken rocks, the onset would be broken, and, bellowing with rage, each +mighty billow would recede, only to be followed by another, as angry and +as awful of aspect as the last. + +It was a sight before which human passion was cowed and human pride was +humbled. As Leonard watched Natalie, silently contemplating the grandeur +of the scene, her dark hair blowing back from the smooth white brow, +beneath which eyes, as unfathomable as the ocean itself, looked +yearningly out into the storm, he had a clear perception that the +emotions he had harbored and nourished as to this woman were unworthy of +the soul in her fathomless eyes. In the presence of nature, feebly +stirred as yet, but with a promise of the mighty strength restrained, +and perhaps, too, his nobler self responding unconsciously to the purity +of the woman at his side, the grosser passion that had vexed him was +subdued; desire for the woman was lost in desire to share the woman's +heart. + +The darkening heavens sinking into the gloom of the ocean, where in the +distance the rolling masses of cloud and water seemed to meet, the +roaring wind, the waves booming on the cliff, and the boiling cauldron +of death beneath their feet--in the presence of these things words could +not utter thoughts unutterable; they stood long silent. + +"Who, then, is this, that He commandeth even the winds and the water, +and they obey Him?" Leonard heard her murmur these words. + +"Who, indeed?" he said. "How can man deny God in the face of this?" + +"In the face of anything?" + +"Or deny His Revelation? Natalie, it is true." + +"Is it true?" + +"As true as the waters or the sky--Natalie, Natalie, it is true." + +His tone trembled with a tenderness deeper than the tenderness of +passion. She looked and saw his eyes with a sheen of tears upon them; no +gleam of earthly desire looked out of them, but the yearning for a soul. +In the presence of the Majesty of God the nobler spirit had awakened and +answered to the longing of the girl to know the secret of the waves, the +rocks, the skies; the secret of herself and of the man beside her--the +eternal truth, hidden always, yet always half revealed to questioning +man. + +"Religion is very dear to you, Leonard?" + +"Dearer than all but God Himself. Dearer than riches, honors--dearer, +Natalie, than the love I bear for you." + +It was said without the usual intent of lover's vows, and so she +understood it. She made no answer. + +And then they saw a sight which made them forget all else--a +fellow-creature, driving helplessly to destruction beneath their feet. + +It was a lad, ignorant, it would seem, of the management of the frail +vessel in which he was the sole passenger. Even in the hands of an +experienced sailor the little boat, intended for smooth water only, +would have been unsafe; now, unskilfully fitted with a mast and sail, +managed by ignorant hands, and driven toward a coast that had no +shelter, the storm rising each moment, the outlook was desperate for the +voyager. + +Leonard seized a trumpet from the appliances with which the wreck-house +was furnished, and leaning far out of the window, bawled in stentorian +tones, some order, which, whether heard by the boy or not, was unheeded. +Indeed, the desperate situation seemed to have paralyzed him; he clung +to the tiller with the proverbial clutch of the drowning man, utterly +incapable of other action, if indeed other action could prevail. + +Seizing a line, Leonard ran down the stairway to a platform built +against the cliff and not many feet above the water. Natalie followed. +The wind was rising every moment, the tide running higher with each +succeeding wave, and now, as she noticed, even reaching the platform. +Leonard noticed, too. "It is not safe here," he shouted to her, for the +wind howled in their ears and the noise of the surge emulated the noise +of the wind. At the same time he pointed to the stairway, signifying +that she should return, but took no further heed of her. His one thought +was to do the thing that would save the life in peril. She did not know +what he was about to do, but watched him, ready to lend assistance, +though without taking her eyes from the boy in the boat. Thus far it had +escaped the sunken rocks, but it could not long escape the shore. The +wind had blown the sail from its fastenings and it tossed upon the +waves. Only the whirlpool formed by the sunken rocks and the sullenly +receding waters, which had but a moment before been hurled against the +cliff, stayed the wreck of the craft. It needed no experienced eye to +recognize the imminence of the peril of the boy, and the sight of the +solitary being, helpless and exposed to the rude mercy of the waves, was +pitiful. Natalie wrung her hands and prayed in French, and while the +infidel prayed the clergyman acted. + +He had intended to cast the weighted end of the line across the boat and +so give its passenger communication with the shore; even so, the case of +the lad would have been but slightly bettered, since, though fast to the +rope, to avoid being dashed against the rocks would be barely possible; +but Leonard, almost in the act of throwing, saw that his intention was +impracticable. He must wait until the boat had come a little nearer. +Natalie, with alarm that was almost horror, saw him remove his coat and +boots; she would have remonstrated, but she felt that remonstrance was +useless. He stood a waiting hero, his whole being absorbed in the task +before him. That task involved his plunging into the boiling surf, the +very abyss of death. Who can say that some premonition of the future was +not upon him, as, with uplifted head and watching eyes, he stood +statue-like awaiting the supreme moment? Who knows but he was warned +that better for him the whirlpool below than the woman at his side! + +Keenly watching the boat, his hands had still been busy, and from the +line he had fashioned a loop, which now he fitted over his head and +beneath his armpits. The other end of the line he secured to a ring in +the platform, and then, having said nothing to Natalie, but now taking +her hand in his own, and holding it tightly, he waited. + +Not long. As in a flash she saw the boat in fragments, the boy in the +water, and in the same instant Leonard plunged in. + +She seized the line, but let it have play. Leonard had reached the boy +in one stroke, had him in his very grasp, when a huge receding wave tore +them asunder, and both were lost to Natalie. + +She pulled with all her strength. She knew that the boy was drowned and +had no hope for Leonard; her hold of the rope aided in his rescue, as +she was able to prevent his being carried away; but had it not been that +the next wave swept him upon the platform, where he was instantly seized +and dragged far backward by Natalie, who herself barely escaped being +swept off, he must have been either drowned or dashed dead against the +rocks. + +For some minutes she believed him drowned. She had dragged him to a +place of comparative safety and he lay quite still with his head in her +lap. But after awhile he sighed and looked into her eyes, and at last +sat up. "The boy?" he said. + +"Gone," she sobbed. + +After some moments he arose, and feebly enough, assisted her to rise, +and they sat upon the stairway, and after awhile got into the +wreck-house. Here Leonard knew where to find restoratives, as well as a +huge blanket, in which he wrapped himself and Natalie. + +And so they sat side by side, enveloped in one covering, both quite +silent, until he said: "Natalie, I have been praying." + +"Teach me, Leonard." + +"While I live," he answered, and he turned his face and kissed her. + +It was the second time that he had kissed woman, but this was a kiss +that might have lingered on his lips while seeking entrance at the gate +of heaven. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +A DISHONEST VEILING OF A WOMAN'S HEART. + + +There was joy at Stormpoint. Before the eyes of Mrs. Joe there rose the +vision of a senate spell-bound by the resonant voice of oratory, while +in the same foreshadowing of the time to come Paula beheld Father +Cameril triumphant over the Bishop and strong in reliance upon the +stalwart arm of a soldier newly enrolled in the army of the Church +Militant. Mark had returned, and it was while gazing upon his +countenance that these seers saw their delectable visions and dreamed +their pleasant dreams. + +Upon this, the first evening of his return, the three sat together in +the library of Stormpoint, Mark submitting, with that external grace +which becomes the man placed upon a pedestal by worshipping woman, to +the adoration of his mother and of Paula; the while secretly ungrateful +and chafing because it was not possible to see Natalie before bedtime. + +They had dined cosily together, and the wanderer had been treated as the +prodigal of old, the substitute for fatted calf being the choicest +viands procurable and the rarest vintage of the Stormpoint cellar; yet +he had not enjoyed his dinner, being oppressed by vague forebodings; and +it was irksome to feign a smiling interest where could be no interest +until he had received an answer to his letter to Natalie. Naturally, he +had inquired as to the welfare of all the Claghorns of the vicinity, and +had expressed satisfaction at replies which indicated health and +prosperity among his relatives. + +"I would have asked them all to dinner," said Mrs. Joe, "but I knew that +they would understand that we would be glad to have you to ourselves +to-night. Leonard and Natalie are always considerate." + +"Leonard was always a favorite of yours," observed Mark, who did not +greatly relish this coupling of names, and who could hardly trust +himself to discuss Natalie. + +"A good young man," replied the lady. "He is almost one of us." + +Mark looked quizzically at Paula, who blushed but said nothing. The +blush was a relief to him. "He is a fine fellow," he said, heartily. "I +have always believed in Leonard, though I don't admire his profession or +his creed. But there are good men among theologians, and I'm sure he is +one of them." + +"But, my son," remonstrated Mrs. Joe, "that is not the way to talk of +clergymen." + +"Fie! mother. Would you deny that there are good men among the clergy?" + +"Mark, you know I meant something very different. We only wish Leonard +was in the Church." + +"How can he be out of it, being a Christian?" + +"There is but one Church," observed Paula gravely. + +"The Holy Catholic Church," added Mrs. Joe. + +"Which term you and Paula assume as belonging especially to your +denomination," laughed Mark. "I doubt if even your own divines would be +so arrogant. Mother, this young saint is evidently as intolerant as +ever; and she is making you like herself," and he placed his hand, +kindly enough, on the girl's shoulder. + +Her eyes filled with tears. "Mark," she said, "you may laugh at me, but +religion ought to be sacred." + +"Both you and your religion ought to be, and are," he answered, and +stooped and kissed her forehead; and, though she did not look up, for +she dared not meet his eyes, he was forgiven. + +The elder lady was surprised, but she noted Mark's action with high +approval. Of all the hopes that she had woven round her son, that one +which contemplated his marriage with Paula was supreme. She had trained +the girl for this high destiny, though, true to her instincts, she had +been as politic in this as in other objects of ambition, and neither of +the two whose fortunes she intended to shape were in her confidence. She +rightly divined that nothing would so surely incite to rebellion on the +part of Mark as an open attempt to control him in a matter of this +nature, and was wise enough to know that a disclosure of her hopes to +Paula would place the girl in a false position, whereby she must +inevitably lose that engaging simplicity which, aside from her beauty, +was her greatest charm. The lady had, as we know, been compelled by the +exigencies of policy to impart her cherished plan to more than one +individual; and after she had done so to Natalie, she had been in terror +until opportunity occurred to insure silence. + +"You see, my dear," she had explained to Natalie, "he has not actually +spoken. Paula, like any other girl so situated, knows what is coming, +but of course----" + +"Dear Mrs. Joe, I should not in any case have mentioned the matter." + +"I ought to have been more reticent, but----" + +"I am sure you did what you thought best," at which reply the lady's +color had deepened and the subject was dropped. + +Thus Mark's action rendered his mother happy, for, notwithstanding her +sanguine disposition, she had often suffered misgivings. At times, +during her son's frequent absences, her fears had risen high, and with +each return home she watched him, narrowly scrutinizing his belongings, +even going so far as to rummage among his letters, to discover if there +existed any ground for fear. Her anxieties stilled and their object once +more under the maternal eye, she was willing, since she must be, that he +be deliberate in falling in love. She knew men thoroughly, so she +believed, having known one a little, and was persuaded that the older he +grew, the more certain was Mark to appreciate that highest womanly +attribute so plainly discernible in Paula--pliancy. To man, so Mrs. Joe +believed, that was the supreme excellence in woman. And there had been +in Paula's reception of Mark's caress a certain coyness, becoming in +itself, and which had lent an air of tenderness to the little scene. +Paula had cast her eyes downward in that modest confusion proper to +maidens and inviting to men; doubtless Mark would be glad to repeat a +homage so engagingly received. + +None of these rosy inferences were shared by Paula. During Mark's last +sojourn at Stormpoint, which had been immediately after leaving France +and constant intercourse with the household of Beverley Claghorn, she +had made her own observations and drawn her own conclusions. Whatever +the reason for Mark's action, she knew it portended nothing for her, and +if she had received his fraternal kiss in some confusion, it was because +she dreaded the possibility of sorrow in store for him, a sorrow +connected with a secret confided to her within a few hours. + +"Now that you are home again, Mark," said his mother, "I want your +promise not to run away." + +"You know men, mother; if I make a promise, I shall inevitably want to +break it." + +"But you wouldn't." + +"Better not tempt the weak. Isn't that so, Paula?" + +"Better not be weak." + +"I am serious, Mark," said Mrs. Joe. "You must consider the future; you +should plan a career." + +"I have no intention of running away; certainly not to-night." + +"Nor any night, I hope." + +"You know," he said with some hesitation, "it is possible I may have to +go to California." + +"Nonsense! What is Benton paid for? I need you. We ought to select a +city home, and I want your taste, your judgment." + +"My dear mother, the city home will be yours. Why haven't you chosen one +long since?" + +"As if I would without consulting you!" + +He smiled, but forebore to remind her that he had not been consulted +with regard to Stormpoint. "Whatever is your taste is mine," he said. +"These gilded cages are for pretty birds like you and Paula; as for +me----" + +"That's nonsense. I am willing to keep your nest warm, but----" + +"If I were to consult my own taste, I would re-erect old Eliphalet's +cabin and be a hermit." + +"Mark, you actually hurt me----" + +"My dear mother, you know I'm joking. About this house, then. New York, +I suppose, is the place for good Californians." + +"It would be pleasanter; but it might be policy to remain in the State." + +He looked at her in wonder. "Why?" he asked. + +"It was merely an idea," she replied, blushing, and secretly grieved +that he did not understand. But it was no time to enter into those plans +which were the fruit of many consultations with Mr. Hacket. "It's +getting late; good-night, my dear boy. I know you'll try to please me." +She kissed him, and, with Paula, left the room. + +Left alone, he paced up and down the long room, nervously biting a cigar +which he forgot to light. He knew he would be unable to pass in sleep +the hours that must elapse before he could see Natalie. He was filled +with forebodings; the vague fears which had tempted him to send an +absurd telegraphic message to Natalie had troubled him since he had +first recognized their presence and had grown in strength with each new +day. He was unaware that presentiments and feelings "in the bones," once +supposed to be the laughable delusions of old ladies and nervous younger +ones, were now being regarded with respectful attention as a part of the +things undreamed of in Horatio's philosophy; and, taking his attitude +after the old fashion, he had reasoned with that being which man calls +"himself," and, for the edification of "himself," had shown to that +personage the childishness of indulging in vague and ungrounded fears. +But without success. Philosophers have discovered that which old ladies +always knew, that all explanations of the wherefore of these mental +vagaries are unsatisfactory as long as the vagaries persist; and while +they do, they vex the wise and foolish alike. + +His musings were disturbed by the entrance of Paula, clad in a ravishing +tea-gown, a dainty fragment of humanity. "Mark," she said, "what is the +matter?" for she had been quick to notice and had been startled by the +gloom of his face. + +"Tired, Paula," and he smiled. Somehow Paula always made him smile. + +"If I were tired, I would go to bed," she observed with a faint touch +of sarcasm. "I won't advise bed to you, for I know that you do not +credit me with much sense." + +"Yet it is plain that you have more than I, since you have indicated the +sensible course," he answered pleasantly. "That should be placing you in +high esteem, since we all think well of ourselves." + +"Forgive me," she said with real sorrow for her petulance, for which she +perhaps could have given no reason; "but I have seen that you were +troubled----" + +"And like a dear little sister you overflow with sympathy. Was there +ever anybody kinder or better than you? But the real fact is that I am +simply tired--yet not sleepy." + +"Well"--she sighed wistfully--"you will feel rested to-morrow. I came +down to give you this from Natalie," handing him a note. "I would have +waited until morning, but I----" + +"Did right, as you always do," he answered, kissing her cheek and saying +good-night, and thus dismissing her, with an evident eagerness to read +the note, not lost upon Paula, and which left her no alternative but to +leave him. + +He opened the envelope and read: + + "Dear Mark--Your letter came this morning, and I have just + learned that you will be home to-night. I cannot express to you + how glad I shall be to see you again. Before we meet in the + presence of others, I hope to see you alone. Your letter, dear + Mark, evidently delayed by being addressed in Mr. Winter's + care, has cost me some tears, both of joy and sorrow. I am + impatient to see you, for it seems to me that to you, before to + any other, except to Paula (who would have known by intuition), + I should disclose the happiness that has come to me in my + engagement to Leonard. It is but two days old, and except to + Paula, is known only to ourselves. Dear Mark, it has not been + easy to write these few lines. I wish I could express in them + how sincerely I honor and love you, and how I wish for your + happiness. I have commenced to pray, and the first time I knelt + to heaven I prayed for you; and so long as I shall continue to + pray--and I think that will be always now--I shall not forget + to beg that you be made happy. I hope you will wander no more, + but be oftener with those that love you and who need you more + than you perhaps know; and as I shall live either in Hampton or + Easthampton, and as I must ever regard you as one of my + earliest and my best friend, I hope we shall see each other + often. + + "NATALIE." + + "Oh, Mark, your happiness is at Stormpoint. No one is better, + more loving, or more lovable than she." + +The letter stunned him. He might, had he known women as well as he +(being young) believed he did--he might have read the truth in every +line. He might have seen that were he to rouse his energies and plead +his cause, he could win it, even yet. He might have heard the +unconscious cry for rescue from an engagement contracted before his +letter had reached her; he might have seen, in the pains she had taken +to tell him that such was the case, his excuse and hers for asserting +his rights against Leonard. These things were plain enough; perhaps the +writer had intended that they should be; not consciously, indeed; but +from that inner being who is part of all of us, the desperate hope of +the girl's heart had not been hidden as she wrote, nor was her pen +entirely uncontrolled by it. + +But the postscript obscured his vision. He laughed contemptuously and +thought, as men will think, "It is thus that woman estimates love. She +is sorry for me, and suggests that the consolation I may need I shall +find in Paula!" He did not recognize that in the postscript was the real +dishonesty of the letter; that it was the salve to the conscience of the +writer, believing that in the letter itself she had said too much, +whereas she had said too little for the perception of a man in the haze +of jealousy. Such gleams of truth as might otherwise have been visible +to Mark could not penetrate that dishonest veiling of the woman's +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +A MAN ABOUT TO MEET A MAID. + + +One may approach the White House by way of the High Street of +Easthampton, of which thoroughfare the dwelling in question is a +conspicuous ornament; but for such as prefer a more secluded road, a +grassy lane behind the houses affords direct access to Miss Claghorn's +garden. + +Mark chose the lane. Since, in obedience to Natalie's request, he must +see her, he hoped to find her in the garden, where there would be less +danger of interruption. + +The birds twittered in the trees, joyous in the new day; the dew +glimmered on the grass-blades; the scent of flowers from adjacent +gardens perfumed the fresh air of a perfect summer morning. On such a +morning a man about to meet a maid should have trod the earth lightly. +But Mark lingered as he walked, reluctant to hear his fate pronounced by +lips which he longed to kiss, but could never kiss; lips, therefore, it +were better not to see. Yet, since he had been summoned, he must go on; +and because of the summons there were moments when he still, if faintly, +hoped. Hope dies hard; and, notwithstanding the forebodings which had +vexed him ever since he had written the letter (for which writing he had +since cursed his folly), there had been times when hope had risen high, +and, as he even now assured himself, not without reason. If he had been +self-deceived, it had not been from the complacency of the coxcomb. +Surely she had loved him, or had been willing to love, had that been +permitted her. + +In arguing thus he was not reasoning unfairly. He had been +unintentionally deceived by the philosopher, Beverley Claghorn, who had +permitted the intercourse between his daughter and this young man, +partly from carelessness, more because he approved of a cousinly +friendship of which one of the partakers was able to gratify a noble +sentiment by an addition to the dowry of the other. It had been by +pointing out this ability that he had assuaged the misgivings of the +Marquise; at the same time so solemnly reiterating his loyalty to the +treaty with that lady, that when Mark's disclosure came it had been +impossible for him to receive it otherwise than he had done--by a +regretful rejection. He had been astounded by the avowal, for he had +noted no sighs, no posturing, no eloquent apostrophes or melting glances +from this suitor who approached him with a tale of love, having never +displayed a visible sign of the tender passion. M. Claghorn's +observation of lovers had long been confined to one variety. He forgot +that Anglo-Saxon swains are less prone to languish in public than their +brothers of Gaul. Had Adolphe de Fleury been in Paris there would have +been more frequent flowers, scented billets, rapt gazes, rolling eyes +and eloquential phrases; all offered for the general appreciation as +much as for the lady of his love. In the absence of these familiar +evidences of ardor, the philosopher was, in his own eyes, acquitted of +responsibility for the surprising fact which Mark had imparted to him. +For, how could he suspect a legitimate passion in a youth who had yet to +sow his wild oats, and one with the capacity for acquiring an unlimited +field for that delightful, if futile, and generally expensive, +husbandry? No man of Mark's years could be so wise--or so foolish. That +was, as the philosopher viewed human nature, not in such nature. The +case was different with Adolphe de Fleury, compelled by circumstances to +seize the most attractive dowry that fell in his way; and even that +gallant but impecunious soldier was, doubtless, cultivating a modest +crop as sedulously as circumstances permitted. + +Thus had Mark been the victim of a philosophic mode of thought and had +bowed to that which he had supposed would be the filial, as it had been +the paternal, decision; saying good-bye, sadly, doubtless, but without +betrayal of that which he believed would not be gladly heard, nor could +be honorably disclosed. + +The ocean lay between him and the woman that he loved before he fully +realized how much must be henceforth lacking in his life, and when +repentance was too late he repented that he had taken the philosopher's +word for a fact of which he now sometimes doubted the existence. Many +memories whispered that she, too, had loved. No word of hers had told +him this; but love is not always told in words--and then he would accuse +himself of the folly of permitting vain longings to control his +judgment. Nevertheless, when, while still at Stormpoint, he had heard of +the sudden death of Beverley Claghorn, he had resolved to do that which +before he had omitted, to appeal to Natalie herself, when, most +inopportunely, there came a letter from the Marquise to Mrs. Joe; a +letter which informed the relatives of the deceased that the death of +the father would hasten, rather than retard, the marriage of the +daughter, who had already taken up her residence with the writer of the +epistle, in accordance with the wish of her father. Not long after the +receipt of that letter Mark had started for Russia, leaving France +unvisited. + +He opened the gate which led from the lane into the garden, and +found--Tabitha. + +Who raised her hands in astonishment, then stretched them forth in +welcome: "And so you're back! For how long this time? More of a Claghorn +than ever--as grim as one of the Eliphalets." + +"No need to ask how you are," said Mark, his grimness softened by her +heartiness. "You get younger every year. How are my aunt and----" + +"And Natalie? Blooming--that's the word. You'll find things different at +the White House. We haven't had a good spat in months. Soor le ponty +Avinyon, on y donks, on y donks----" + +"_On y danse_," repeated Mark, laughing at Tabitha's French in spite of +himself. + +"Yes; even my old legs. Your aunt's are too stiff. But we young things, +that's Natalie and I, we cut our capers," and in the exuberance of her +spirits Miss Cone essayed a caper for Mark's benefit. + +"Such grace, Tabby----" + +"Is worth coming from Russia to see. I'm practising; there's to be great +doings here before long. What would you say to a wedding?" + +"Let me salute the bride?" he said, with an attempt at gaiety which, to +himself, seemed rather sickly, and suiting his action to the word. + +"Well!" ejaculated Miss Cone, adjusting her cap, "many a man's had his +ears boxed for that. However, I suppose it's in the air around here--but +you're mistaken. I'm not the bride." + +"Surely, not Aunt Achsah?" + +"As if you couldn't guess! But don't say I told you. The fact is I'm so +full of it I blabbed without thinking." + +"Then it's a secret?" + +"It won't be after to-day. Leonard told us last night. I suppose your +aunt'll tell your ma to-day." + +Mark promised to say nothing and went toward the house. Miss Claghorn +welcomed him cordially, but made no reference to the subject of +Tabitha's disclosures, though traces of her agreeable agitation were +visible. "There's Natalie, now!" she exclaimed after some minutes had +been spent in conversation sufficiently dreary to one of the two. + +The thundering of a horse's hoofs told of a wild gallop. The old lady +rushed from the house, followed by Mark, dismayed by her action and the +alarm expressed in her countenance. He reached the gate in time to +assist Natalie to dismount. + +"My dear child!" exclaimed the elder lady reproachfully. + +She was grasping Mark's hands in welcome. Her face was flushed; her dark +hair, disturbed by the pace at which she had ridden, hung low upon her +forehead; he had never seen her so beautiful--nor so happy. His face was +pale, his hands cold in hers. + +"Dear Aunt," she said, "I felt as though I must gallop; I didn't mean to +in the High Street; I couldn't hold him." + +"He was homeward bound," said Mark, turning to look at the horse, now +being led away by Miss Achsah's "man." "He's a handsome beast." + +"I have much to ask you about the Marquise," said Natalie to Mark, as +they went into the house, whereupon Miss Claghorn left them. + +The short-lived bloom of her face was gone; she was deadly pale. She +stretched her ungloved hands toward him; it might have been a gesture +of appeal. He dared not take them in his own; his longing to clasp her +to his heart was too great to risk the contact. She dropped her arms. + +"You wished to see me--to ask me----" He paused; his voice sounded stern +in his ears, but he had no power over it. + +"To--to say something. Give me a moment." + +As she turned toward the window he caught a glimpse of the sheen of +tears. A mighty impulse raised his arms as though to clasp her; then +they fell. + + "What fates impose, that man must need abide." + +She turned toward him. "I thought there was much to say. There +is--nothing." + +"Nothing for you; for me, something. It is to wish you all happiness, to +assure you of my constant--friendship." + +"And that is needless. We shall always be friends, warm friends, Mark. +Let it be so. And--there is something more. I should not have written as +I did of Paula; I had no right. But--since I am your friend, and you are +mine----" + +"We shall be. Even so, give me a little time." + +His words were accompanied by a sardonic smile. The words and the smile +silenced her. There was a pause. + +"Has the Marquise forgiven me?" she asked at length. + +"She will in time. By the way, I saw Adolphe. I hope he did not +persecute----" + +"No, no. He left that to his mama," she answered, laughing. "To Adolphe, +as a cousin, I had no objection; but----" + +"You have chosen more wisely," he said gravely. "I wish you happiness, +Natalie." He held out his hand; she took it, her own trembling. "God +bless you, Cousin." His lips brushed her cold cheek, then he was gone. + +She watched him from the window; her face was very white, her hands +tightly clenched. So she stood until he had passed from view, then she +went upstairs. In the hall she passed Tabitha, who exclaimed: "You +scared us all--yourself, too. You look like a ghost." + +"Scared?" questioned Natalie. + +"Riding like that." + +"Like that! I wished the horse had wings." + +"You'll have 'em if you don't take care, then----" + +"Then I'll fly away." The intensity of her utterance made Tabitha stare. +Natalie laughed aloud, and left her still staring. + +Alone in her room, she paced slowly back and forth, struggling with her +pride, crushing a forbidden and rejected love. So she regarded it. With +a wrung heart, Mark had respected her decision, and in the depths of her +soul she blamed him, scorning the puny passion so easily beaten. "Go to +Paula," she had written, while "Come to me," her heart had cried so +loudly that, except he were deaf, he might have heard. + +When she had written her letter to Mark she had accomplished a bitter +task only after a long and desperate struggle. She loved Leonard; she +had said this to herself over and over again, and it was true; and to +him she had given her troth freely, fully believing that for him there +would be happiness and for her content. But the lowest depths of her +soul had been stirred by the letter from Mark. There were chambers there +that Leonard had not entered, could never enter, and into which she +herself dared not look. + +Self-sacrifice is to women alluring. That which she had made had been +made, at least she so believed, with honest intention, yet, since now it +was irrevocable, it was too hideous to contemplate. She would call him +back, and on her knees---- + +Shameful thought! She was betrothed to a man she loved. Had she not +admitted it? Not to him only, but shyly this very morning to the fond +old woman to whom she owed so much, whose last days by that very +admission were brightened by a glorious sunshine never before known in a +long and gloomy life. Could she now, even if in her own eyes she could +fall so low--could she fall so low in the eyes of these women by whom +she was surrounded? In her aunt's eyes and Tabitha's? In Paula's, to +whom, in loving loyalty, she had herself confided the secret? In those +of Mrs. Joe, who had so carefully warned her from this preserve? No--to +that depth she could not descend, not even to bask in the cold and +passionless love of Mark. + +The engagement was received with universal favor. It could hardly be +otherwise, since all peculiarly interested were of that sex which dearly +loves to contemplate a captive man, the only male (Leonard, of course, +excepted) being Mark, whose attitude, being unsuspected, was ignored. +And the bridegroom was the hero of all these women: the heir of Miss +Claghorn; the one of the family to whom Tabitha was willing to ascribe +all the virtues; regarded with affectionate esteem by Mrs. Joe, and, as +to all except his denominational qualities, worshipped by Paula. As to +the question of yoking believer and unbeliever, it had certainly +occurred to all the devotees of the young theologian, but, aside from +the certainty that truth must find its triumph in the union, the more +pressing question of clothes for the approaching wedding left but little +room in pious but feminine minds for other considerations. Events had so +fallen in with Leonard's wishes that an early marriage was deemed +advisable in Natalie's interest. Mr. Ellis Winter had encountered +difficulty with regard to certain property in France belonging to her, +and her presence in Paris was essential; and it was no less desirable +that while there she be under the protection of a husband. For, aside +from other considerations, marriage was the easiest solution of the +complications which had arisen out of the guardianship of the Marquise, +which guardianship would legally terminate with Natalie's marriage. And +these things opened the way for Mark's return to Stormpoint. + +"Urgent business" in San Francisco had precluded his attendance at the +wedding. He wrote Leonard a cordial letter, and he sent to Natalie a +ruby set in small diamonds, which, Tabitha Cone confidentially imparted +to Miss Claghorn, was "mean for a billionaire," and which, even in the +eyes of the latter lady, with whom the donor was a favorite, looked +paltry. Both would have been surprised and even indignant at the man's +folly, if they had known that he had bid against a crowned head to get +the gem, employing a special agent, furnished with _carte blanche_ for +the purpose. Natalie knew better than they, but it was not of its purity +or value that she thought, as she looked at the jewel long and +steadfastly, until a mist of tears suddenly obscured her vision and +struck terror to her soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +MAN WALKETH IN A VAIN SHADOW. + + +Soon after the departure for France of the newly married pair Mark +returned from San Francisco. During his absence Mrs. Joe had not failed +to call Mr. Hacket in consultation, and the adviser had reiterated the +old counsel that the first step in a political career was "to get around +and get acquainted." In order to induce her son to continue this +preliminary course it became necessary to disclose her "policy." + +Mark, though somewhat languid in the matter, displayed no violent +reluctance to becoming a statesman. "As to the Presidency," he observed, +laughing at his mother's lofty ambition, frankly disclosed, "that is the +heaven of the politician, to be attained only by the elect." + +"Nothing's impossible, Mark." + +"There's a constitutional provision which will prevent my going in for +it for some years. Meanwhile, we can investigate and learn how +Presidents start. One ended as Justice of the Peace; I might try that as +a beginning." + +"A Justice of the Peace!" + +"Why so scornful? It's aiming high. The usual course is to begin by +carrying a banner and shouting." + +"Mark, I've set my heart on this." + +"My dear mother, blessed is the man or woman that has the wisdom to +avoid that error." + +"My son," said the lady reproachfully, "you seem without interest in +anything." + +"I am older, hence less enthusiastic, than you," he answered, smiling, +and really believing, perhaps rightly, that, notwithstanding their +relation, he felt older than she; "but advise me what to do, and I will +do it. I am not unwilling to be a statesman, only----" + +"I have told you----" + +"To get about and get acquainted. Good! I'll start at once and collar +the first voter I meet and demand his friendship." So, laughing, he left +her, and within an hour Mrs. Joe saw him ride forth from the gates of +Stormpoint. + +During his long ride he admitted the reasonableness of his mother's +ambition. Aside from the obstacle of great wealth, he was as eligible as +another for usefulness and such laurels as come to those who honorably +pursue a political career. He might smile at his mother's lofty dreams, +yet they were not impossible of attainment; whereas, his own, in so far +as they offered any allurement, were both unworthy and impossible. "A +man should do something better than bewail his fate," he muttered; +"since I cannot love elsewhere I'll be a lover of my country." + +Greatly to Mrs. Joe's satisfaction, he thenceforward diligently pursued +the preliminary requisite of getting around, in so far as that could be +accomplished by long, solitary rides throughout the region. He seldom +appeared at dinner without a gratifying account of the acquisition of a +new rustic acquaintance, while meantime, the lady of Stormpoint saw to +it that he did not remain unknown to such Hampton magnates as she could +induce to grace her dinner table, displaying, in the matter of +hospitality, a catholicity which surprised Paula and amused Mark, who, +however, was quite willing to be amused. + +Philosophers who have made the passion of love a subject of +investigation (and most philosophers have given some attention to this +branch of learning) have noticed that the violent death of an old love +is often quickly followed by the birth of a new one. A jilted man or +woman is Cupid's easiest prey. + +Mrs. Joe may, or may not, have been aware of the truth of the above +axiom, or its fitness in the case before her; but, having been fairly +successful in interesting Mark in one object of her "policy," she +resolved at this time to venture further and urge upon his attention the +claims of Paula to his love; and, to her great delight, she found him +not inattentive to the suggestion. He told his mother, truly enough, +that he had a sincere affection for Paula, and admitted that she was, as +far as was compatible with humanity, faultless; for it could hardly be a +fault in Paula that he could feel no throb in his pulse, or glow in his +bosom, when he recalled her to memory. + +"You forget," he said, "that while I might find it easy to love her" +(which he did not believe), "she might not find it easy to love me." + +"You need have no fear." She was about to add that Paula would love +anybody that loved her, but remembered in time that this might not be +regarded as a recommendation. "She is the best creature I ever +knew--almost perfect." + +"I believe she is," he assented with a sigh, which was a tribute to +Paula's perfection. "I fear she is too good for me." + +"That's a strange objection." + +"I am not so sure," he replied, as he lit a cigar, preparatory to +leaving the room. But when he was gone, Mrs. Joe felt that he would +consider the matter, and was content. + +Unconsciously to herself, and, perhaps, without the knowledge of those +by whom she was surrounded, Paula was somewhat harshly treated by +nature; and that, notwithstanding her beauty. She was the embodiment of +purity, of affection, of all the sweeter virtues, hence, regarded as +wanting in those weaknesses which are essential to the symmetry of +strength; one who lacks the everyday vices of temper, of selfishness, of +jealousy, is, in some degree, abhorrent to our sense of the fitness of +things. It is not that we envy the possessor of all the virtues--on the +contrary, total absence of vice awakens something akin to contempt--but +we are impatient of a non-combative disposition. The ideal Christian, +offering the unsmitten cheek, presents a spectacle which, on Sundays, we +characterize as sublime; the actual Christian, making such a tender, is, +on any day, an object of scorn. Even of Paula, they who knew her would +have admitted that it was possible to rouse her to resentment, possibly +to a deed of vengeance, just as the worm may be made to turn; but, then, +humanity refuses to admire worms in any attitude. + +As Mark prosecuted the study of Paula, it gradually dawned upon him +that it was interesting. From wondering whether there could be "much in +her," he attained the conviction that, whether much or little, what +there was was beyond his ken. "Paula," he asked one day, "are you as +good as you look?" + +"I don't know how good I look, Mark." + +"Saintlike." + +"Then I am not as good as I look; only I don't think I look as you say." + +"Paula, you are a mystery. That's a great thing to be, is it not?" +(Somehow, he could not help talking to Paula as if she were a child.) +"Explain the mystery." + +"Everybody is a mystery. Explain the mystery." + +"Here is an unexpected depth," he exclaimed, with some surprise. "You +have dared to raise a great question. Let us seek the solution at +Grandfather Eliphalet's tomb." + +The tomb, renovated and neatly railed by that which Miss Claghorn +secretly regarded as the sacrilegious hand of Mrs. Joe, was near the +extremity of the Point. When the weary Eliphalet had been laid there to +rest it had been further inland, but the ever-pounding ocean was +gradually having its way, day by day encroaching upon the domain of the +seemingly indestructible rocks. + +"The time will come," said Mark, as the two leaned upon the railing, +"when the sea will claim old Eliphalet's bones." + +"And the time will come when the sea will give up its dead," said Paula. + +"Perhaps," he answered gloomily; "and to what end? You will answer, in +order that the dead may be judged. I still ask, to what end?" + +"That is the mystery, Mark." + +"Not to be answered at Eliphalet's tomb, or elsewhere. Paula, did you +ever hear of Deacon Bedott?" + +"You know, Mark, there are so many deacons in Hampton----" + +"This one lived in Slabtown, if I remember right. He was a character of +fiction, neither very wise nor very entertaining; yet when Deacon Bedott +lifted up his voice and spake, he formulated one of the Great Truths +that man can know." + +"What did he say?" she asked after a pause. + +"We are all poor critters," was the answer, with a grim laugh. "Paula, I +believe it is the only truth that really does come home to a man." + +"It is from the Bible," she said simply. + +He looked up. "Do you mean to assert that the Deacon was merely quoting? +Are you going to destroy my faith in a pet philosopher; he who said all +that Plato said, or Socrates, or Seneca--or anybody?" + +"For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain," she +answered in a low tone. + +There was silence for a moment; at length Mark said: "It seems that the +Deacon was, after all, a plagiarist." + +"I think that perhaps philosophers have discovered few truths concerning +man that they might not have found in the Bible, and with less labor." + +"Paula, do you believe the Bible?" + +"Why, Mark! It is God's word." + +"And these," he said, pointing to the trees, the crags, the sea; "are +these God's word?" + +"They are His creation; in that sense His word." + +"And you and I, and these bones, crumbling a few feet below--these are +all His creation, and so His word--and we know not what they say." + +She looked at him surprised. She had often sorrowed that these things +did not engage his attention; she was surprised to note his earnestness. + +"Paula," he said, "do you know what you were made for?" + +"Made for?" + +"Leonard would tell you, 'to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever,'" he +said, "but he would also inform you that the chance of the purpose of +your creation coming to pass is slim." + +"You know I do not subscribe to Leonard's creed," she replied a little +severely. + +"The thirty-nine articles, though less explicit, imply that which +Leonard's creed has the boldness to state. Yes, Paula, that is the great +and glorious Hope offered by the Church--damnation for the great +majority." + +"Mark, I do not think I ought to discuss these questions." + +"You mean with a scoffer," he said a little bitterly. + +"I hope you are not a scoffer. I cannot judge." + +"And you decline to find out. Suppose I tell you in all honesty that I +want to know the reasons for the faith that is in you. That I want to +know them, so that I may try honestly to adopt them, if I find it +possible--I don't say easy, Paula, I say possible. Suppose I assure you +of this, as I do, will you aid me to be what you think I ought to be?" + +"Mark," she answered, "I am not competent. Such a one as you should not +come to such as I." + +"Surely you have a reason for your belief! Is it not possible to put it +into words?" + +"Oh, Mark!" She turned and looked upon him; her eyes were brimming with +tears; she placed her hand upon his arm. "I can help you; I will help +you. I can direct you to one who can solve your doubts, who can make the +truth so plain that you must see----" + +"And this One is?' he asked reverently. + +"Father Cameril." + +He burst into a loud laugh which shocked and grieved her. She left him +and went toward the house; he remained gazing at the tomb. + +And there, if he had really contemplated seeking Paula's love, he buried +the intention with Old Eliphalet. "If your eternal welfare is to your +wife a matter to be handed over to her priest, your temporal felicity +will hardly be of moment to her," he thought, as he looked at the smoke +of his cigar hanging blue in the summer air. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A PARSON TREADS THE PRIMROSE PATH IN PARIS. + + +"Bel homme!" exclaimed the Marquise de Fleury admiringly. + +"_Belle femme!_" echoed the hussar sadly. + +"Be everything that is charming, Adolphe, I conjure you. So much depends +upon Natalie's disposition." + +From which brief conversation, which took place as the speakers left the +hotel where the Leonard Claghorns were established, it may be correctly +inferred that a friendly reception had been accorded the newly married +pair by the French relatives of the bride. The noble lady, doubtless, +felt all the affection for her former ward that she had, during the +visit, so eloquently expressed, so that inclination prescribed the same +course that policy would have indicated. The Marquise was still the +custodian of property belonging to Natalie, and settlement of accounts +could be much better adjusted in a spirit of indulgent friendship than +in the cold and calculating spirit of business; and though Natalie and +her dowry were gone forever, in that distant land whence she had +returned with a husband, there were golden maids languishing for +Marquises. "These Yankees," she observed to her son, "they sell their +souls for money--the men; the women sell their bodies, and such soul as +goes with them, for titles. Are you not a Marquis, of the _ancien +regime_? It behooves us, my child, to be gracious to this wedded priest; +he may know of a _partie_." + +"I am so, mama. _Du reste_, he is _beau garçon_, and seems amiable and +amusing." + +"Cultivate him, my infant; a voyage to America may be your destiny. It +is a rich family--fabulous. There may be maids in plenty among these +Claghorns." + +The two young men, except for the pacific disposition of their +womankind, might have been inclined to regard one another askance. For, +in the person of the possessor of Natalie and her dowry the brave hussar +saw one who however innocently, was still the ravisher of his rights; +while in this being, in all the glory of fur and feather, sabretache and +jangling sword, boots and buttons, braid and golden stripes, with a +pervading tone of red and blue, Leonard beheld a startling and, at +first, unpleasing creation. But the lieutenant, admonished by his mama, +and sensible of the interests at stake, and genial by nature, thawed +almost immediately, and the boulevardier and the theologian were +friends. + +To the young Frenchman a Protestant theologian was a philosopher, rather +than a priest under vows, hence a person of liberal views and probably +of lax conduct. As toward a newly married man, and warned incessantly by +the Marquise, he recognized that etiquette required that from him no +invitation to dissipation should emanate, but that his attitude ought to +be that of willingness to pilot the stranger whithersoever he might wish +to go; occasionally pointing out that paths of pleasantness were open to +such as might choose to wander in them. And though Leonard displayed no +undue disposition to such wanderings, an intimacy resulted which was not +in fact, though seemingly, incongruous. + +"What is he like, this beautiful heretic?" asked the Marquise. + +"Like a Greek god, as you see, mama." + +"But otherwise; he is a priest, you know?" + +"And, like other priests, with an eye for a pretty woman." + +"But discreet, Adolphe? I hope he is discreet." + +"As St. Anthony! Natalie may be easy." + +"Be you equally discreet, my child. She has been most generous; and, +remember, Adolphe----" + +"Yes, mama. What am I to remember?" + +"That when a woman marries a man for his beauty, it is not love; it is +infatuation. Do not permit this Leonarr to go astray; he has +proclivities." + +The little hussar laughed. "You are sharp-eyed, mamma." + +"Had you watched him before the painting of Eve--but enough. Do nothing +to cause disquiet to Natalie." + +The little man, thus admonished, promised to carefully observe her +wishes; the more readily as he was aware how important the friendship of +Natalie was to his mama (in view of the pending adjustment of accounts). +The more he studied Leonard, the more amusing he found him. To "do" +Paris (not, indeed, to the extent of the capacity of that capital) in +company with a priest, was, in itself, a piquant experience. "It is like +demonstrating to your director how easy it is to sin," he declared; "and +_ce bon Leonarr_, he imposes no penance. _Tiens!_ These others, these +Protestants, they have it easy." + +"He does not essay to pervert," observed the Marquise in some alarm. + +"Be not uneasy. Would I be of a religion whose priests marry? Think of +the wife of my confessor knowing all my peccadillos!" + +"Forgive me. My anxiety was but momentary----" + +"Meanwhile, let me help this _pauvre garçon_, whose eyes have, since +infancy, been bandaged, to see a little bit of the world. It is +delightful to note his delight." + +"But with discretion, Adolphe." + +"Do I not assure you he is an anchorite. You have yourself observed that +he drinks no wine." + +"A penance, doubtless. Père Martin is also abstemious." + +"As to _ordinaire_. In the presence of a flask of Leoville, I have noted +a layman's thirst in _ce bon père_." + +"Do not ridicule Père Martin, my infant. _Du reste_, it is not wine that +I fear in the case of this beautiful Leonarr. Continue to be his +guardian angel, my son." + +Under this guardianship Leonard looked at Paris, enjoying his free +sojourn in a great and brilliant city with hearty, but, on the whole, +innocent fervor. The sunny skies, the genial good-humor, the eating and +drinking, the frequent music, the lights, the dapper men, the +bright-eyed women, the universal alertness--these impart a pleasant +tingle to Puritan blood; and, if the novice to these delights be young, +rosy, handsome, of exuberant health, and inclined to the pleasures +befitting such conditions, he finds Paris grateful to the taste. In +this congenial atmosphere Leonard basked in guileless rapture. A drive +in the Bois with Natalie and the Marquise, brilliant equipages dashing +by, brilliant eyes flashing as they passed, was a rare delight; a stroll +on the Boulevard was even more enjoyable, for here were more flashing +eyes and smiling faces, less fleeting, and often coquettishly inviting +an answering glance. Clothed in the results of the meditations of de +Fleury's tailor, it became Leonard's frequent habit to haunt the +Boulevards, indulging in a strut that would have astonished Hampton; and +often was he inclined to envy the Marquis that lot which had made his +abiding place among these joys. It would have been fine to be a soldier, +fine to fight and win glory; to wear boots and spurs and a clanking +sword, and to trail the same along the pavement as one to the manner +born! + +Of course, that was a day-dream, which he laughed at as easily as an +older man might have done, though less scornfully. There was no great +harm in day-dreams, however foolish. This whole existence had the +character of a pleasant dream. Had he not felt it so, he often mentally +averred, he would have accepted it more gravely. + +"But it will soon be over," he said to Natalie. "It is my first holiday +since I was a boy." + +"Enjoy it all you can. I am glad that Adolphe has been able to make your +stay pleasant." + +"Really, a very amiable little fellow. French, you know, and rather lax +in his views, I fear; but----" + +"His views will not harm you," interrupted Natalie, smiling. + +"Certainly not," he replied, a little stiffly. "It would be strange if I +could not take care of myself. Meanwhile, M. de Fleury is really of +great advantage to me in one respect." + +"And that is?" + +"I am improving wonderfully in French. That's a good thing, Natalie, a +very good thing." He was quite solemn on this point. + +"An excellent thing," she replied, somewhat surprised at the gravity +with which he treated a matter of no great importance. "I wish, Leonard, +that my affairs were concluded. I am sure you are being kept here +against your wish." + +"Whatever my wish, your affairs ought to come first. Let us be content +that, if they do drag, I can employ the time in self-improvement." + +Thus, in the praiseworthy pursuit of improvement Leonard spent much of +his time. He was by no means neglectful of his wife, whose attendance, +with the Marquise, was much in demand in official bureaus, and who +encouraged his intimacy with the lieutenant, whom she no longer found +unendurable, and whose amiable and forgiving conduct had won her heart. +"They are not rich, you know," she said. "Entertain the little man all +you can; the Marquise was very kind to me." An injunction which afforded +another reason why it was incumbent on Leonard to procure the Marquis +the distractions that he loved, in so far as purse and principle +permitted, and these were found elastic. + +Because, as he was forced to admit when arguing with the Marquis, a +reasonable elasticity is not only proper, but essential to culture. + +"_Mon bon_," observed the lieutenant, "the view you advance is narrow. +The ballet, as a favorite spectacle of the people, should be studied by +every student of morals. You, as a preacher----" + +Leonard laughed. "I'm not a preacher; I'm an instructor in a college of +divinity." + +"_Eh bien!_ The greater reason. How shall one teach the good, knowing +not the evil? _Du reste_, are they evil, _ces belles jambes_ of Coralie? +They are fine creations, of pure nature; there is no padding." + +"You will be my guest, if we go?" + +"Since you insist; also to a _petit souper, a parti carré_, with Aimée +and Louise. Coralie! _Sapristi_, no! Her maw is insatiable; the little +ones are easily pleased." + +And so Leonard studied unpadded nature, even going alone a second, and +perhaps a third time. As to the _petit souper_, it had been decorous; +and beyond the fact that Mesdemoiselles Aimée and Louise were agreeable +ladies with excellent appetites, his knowledge of these damsels did not +extend. + +Of course, there were pursuits of a different character to engage his +attention, and those which occurred under the guidance of the lieutenant +were exceptional. There were the usual sights to be seen; galleries, +monuments, churches, all to be wondered at, criticised and admired. +Leonard approved generally, though, as to the churches, their tawdry +interiors and the character of their embellishments offended his taste, +as well as his religious sentiments. If, during these distractions, he +was neglectful of the religious instruction which he knew his wife +needed, circumstances were, to some extent, at fault. He could hardly +expound doctrinal truths in a picture gallery, much less in a temple of +Roman error. And, though not without qualms, he admitted to himself that +he had little desire to discuss religion. There was, perhaps, no heinous +sin in looking at the leg-gyrations of Mademoiselle Coralie, nor was +Leonard the first wandering clergyman to embrace an offered opportunity +to study ethics from the standpoint of that rigid moralist, the Marquis +de Fleury; nevertheless, such studies had their effect in cooling +religious fervor, and fervor is essential to him who would expound +truth, with a view to compel conviction. + +Finally, as bearing on this question of the doctrinal instruction of his +wife, he doubted whether it was worth while. Knowledge of doctrine was +no adornment in women; there was Paula, whose pretensions in this regard +constituted almost her only defect. Since Natalie was probably saved, +why trouble himself and her with the exposition of mysteries which she +would be unable to comprehend, and concerning which the injunction was +laid that they be "handled with especial care." If she had heard the +call it would be effectual; if she had not been born to salvation, all +the doctrine which had been taught since the days of the fathers would +not--and here his self-communing stopped. Damnation, though inevitable, +is not an alluring subject of contemplation when it affects one's +family. + +The complications attendant on Natalie's affairs prolonged the stay in +Paris far beyond the period originally contemplated; but French method +on one side of the Atlantic, and Mr. Winter on the other, were finally +satisfied, after much passing to and fro of documents. Everybody +interested was weary, and consular clerks had come to loathe the names +of Natalie, Eugenie, Louise, Susan Beverley de Fleury Claghorn-Claghorn, +_née_ de Fleury-Claghorn. As Leonard said, to be enabled to give the +Marquise a receipt in full was a harder job than to negotiate a treaty. +But it was done at last; Natalie had been resolute and Mr. Winter had +protested in vain; the Marquise had her discharge and, relieved of many +terrors, was duly grateful. "She has been charming, truly considerate," +she observed to her son. "Alas, Adolphe; it was a great loss." + +"There are others," replied the Marquis philosophically. + +"Heaven send it so. You must no longer delay speaking seriously to this +good Leonarr, who might have influenced his wife to be the ogress +desired by the abominable Winter. Urge him to look out for a _partie_ as +soon as he arrives in America. I will speak to Natalie. I have heard her +mention two demoiselles, Achsah and Tabitha." + +"_Ciel!_ The appellations." + +"But if the bearers are rich?" + +"_Tiens!_ mama. Madame Zho and _la belle_ Paula are in London. I might +try there; it is not so far." + +"But _ce gros_ Marc is with them. Paula is for him, as you know." + +"He does not hurry himself, and truly I believe the little one would not +be averse to me." + +"Better depend upon Monsieur Leonarr." + +And as a result of his mama's advice the lieutenant did, on that +afternoon, broach the matter to Leonard, who, at first mystified, ended +by roaring with laughter when he grasped the fact that the head of the +House of de Fleury was making a provisional proposal for the hand and +fortune of either Mademoiselle Tabitha, or Mademoiselle Achsah, as +Leonard might advise. + +"_Diable!_" exclaimed the gallant youth, when Leonard had explained the +cause of his hilarity, "over seventy and rich! What a country where such +opportunities are neglected! Decidedly I must make the voyage." + +Leonard made no reply; the suggested picture of the noble Marquis as +his guest in Hampton was not precisely alluring. + +"And so there is not a single demoiselle among the Claghorns that +desires a title?" + +"Not one." + +"Alas!" sighed the Marquis. "I was too magnanimous. You know _la belle_ +Paula, of course. Listen, _mon ami_, but let your lips be sealed. _Elle +etait folle de moi!_" + +"Paula! Crazy for you! You flatter----" + +"_Parole d'honneur._ It was in her eyes, in the plaintive cadence of her +tones----" + +"But----" + +"I know--_ce polisson de Marc, toujours Marc_. Ah, the luck of this +Marc! He has a mine of gold; he will have the charming Paula. Only you, +_mon bon_, have beaten him. After all, it is for Marc and me to mingle +our tears." + +"What do you mean by that?" asked Leonard sharply. "Why are you and Mark +to mingle your tears?" + +"For the reason, _mon cher_, that we love to weep," replied the hussar, +with an odd glance at Leonard. "Adieu, I have an appointment," and he +turned abruptly down a side street, leaving Leonard astonished at his +quick retreat. + +"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, after a moment. "It's absurd!" Then he pursued +his way homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +TO HIM I WILL BE HENCEFORTH TRUE IN ALL THINGS. + + +Mrs. Joe and her train were in London, whither Mark had been summoned on +business; and ever since Madame de Fleury had become aware of the fact +she had urged the party to visit Paris. The Marquise, notwithstanding +her sex, was not devoid of curiosity, and, aside from other advantages +which might accrue to her from the presence of the lady of Stormpoint, +she was anxious that a puzzle which had not a little mystified her be +elucidated. When Mark had visited her after his chance meeting with +Adolphe in the cafe, she had divined his feeling with regard to Natalie, +and had at once jumped to the conclusion that it explained the flight of +her ward. She recalled the intimacy which had existed between the +cousins during the lifetime of the philosopher, an intimacy which she +had gravely disapproved, and concerning which she had more than once +remonstrated. She remembered, too, with vexation and a sense of injury, +that the philosopher had soothed her solicitude for the interests of her +son, by pleading the cousinly customs of Mark's country, as well as by +pointing out the benefit which might accrue to her son by an increased +dowry for his own daughter. Now all these hopes and rosy possibilities +were extinguished; Natalie had appeared on the scene with a husband who +was not Mark, and Mark and Paula were still unwed. These were all +puzzling facts out of which there might be gathered some advantage for +Adolphe. She had concealed from him the hopes which sometimes rose +within her in contemplating the present state of affairs; but she was +very anxious to know what that state portended. She had tried in vain to +extract information from Natalie, and as to Leonard, the matter required +delicate handling. Such inquiries as she had addressed to him had been +of necessity vague, and from his answers she had derived no +satisfaction. He had sometimes idly wondered what the lady was after, +but until the allusion by the Marquis to a mutual mingling of tears by +Mark and himself, Leonard had barely given the matter a thought. He +understood now what the Marquis had implied, and saw the drift of the +maternal questioning. He was annoyed, but only for a moment; he +dismissed the subject as being of equal importance with the hussar's +idea of Paula's infatuation for himself, concerning which he had no +belief whatever. + +After the lieutenant had left him, Leonard pursued his way homeward, +vaguely oppressed by a sense of gloom which he attributed to the +weather, which had become lowering. He was near the Church of St. Roch +when a shower drove him inside its portals for shelter. + +A few sightseers were wandering about the edifice; an occasional +penitent occupied a chapel with lips close to the grating, on the other +side of which was the ear of the absolver; in the body of the church a +number knelt in prayer. + +He looked at these things with curiosity, not unmingled with scorn. His +attention was attracted by a plainly dressed woman standing in a side +aisle; to his surprise, he recognized his wife. + +She did not see him as he softly approached her. A sunbeam breaking +through the clouds outside shone through a window and lit up her face, +displaying to him a new expression, a look of yearning and of love which +beautified it; a look he had never seen before; he recognized the fact +with a vague sense of pain. + +That which he saw, like that which he felt, was but momentary. She +turned, looking at him at first with an abstracted gaze, then startled, +as though waking from a dream. "Leonard!" she exclaimed in a low voice. +It sounded like fear. + +"Even so, my dear. Why are you here alone?" + +"I--I--don't know. I was tired." + +"Has this spectacle moved you so?" He pointed to the worshippers. + +"No, not that. I wish I were as good as they; I have watched them +often." + +"Often?" he repeated. He was somewhat indignant at that wish, that she, +his wife, were as good as these idolaters; but it was plain that she was +deeply moved by something, and he was very tender. "Do you come here +often?" + +"I have done so, Leonard." There was humility in her tone, there was +confession; had he known it, there was a cry for aid. + +"Natalie," he said, with some reproach for her, and feeling not a little +for himself, "I hope you are not attracted by the glitter of Romanism. +Surely you can pray in your closet!" + +"I do not pray in the churches," she said. "I did not know that my +visits to them would annoy you." + +"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "I can understand that you like to +enjoy the architectural beauties and the solemn influence. But upon me +the crucifixes, the holy water, the vestments--in short, the +frippery--these things have a less agreeable effect. They savor of gross +superstition." + +It was true that she did not pray in the churches. Something restrained +her; perhaps the very memories which had invited her to these wanderings +in dim shadows where so many vain aspirations had been breathed. +Sometimes as she would pass a chapel where knelt a penitent, confessing +to a hidden priest, a strong desire would come upon her to do as the +penitent was doing. Yet why? Even to herself she had not yet admitted +that she had aught to confess. + +They strolled slowly toward their hotel, Leonard silently reproaching +himself that he had not sooner discovered and prevented this habit of +haunting churches, a habit which might lead to lamentable results in one +easily influenced by the external pomp and circumstance of Romanism. + +However, any danger that might exist would soon be passed. Before long +they would be far beyond the subtle influences of priesthood, as well as +other subtle influences which he felt were not altogether healthful. He +sighed, a little regretfully; after all, pleasure was sweet. + +There had been some question whether they should await the possible +arrival of Mrs. Joe. The discussion of this subject had been confined to +himself and the Marquise, Natalie having displayed but a faint interest +in the matter. Only that morning Madame de Fleury had informed him that +the lady of Stormpoint had written to say that she and her party would +come to Paris for a short stay and then accompany the Leonard Claghorns +homeward. He was therefore surprised when Natalie suddenly exclaimed, +"Leonard, let us go home!" + +"Do you mean we should not wait for Mrs. Joe?" he asked. + +"Why should we? She has Paula and the maids." + +"And Mark. He counts for something," suggested Leonard, laughing. + +"Of course; and if we wait for them, the waiting will never end. The +Marquise will do all she can to keep them, and Paris is not so easily +left. I foresee more difficulty in getting away gracefully, should they +arrive while we are here, than if we go at once." + +"We can pass through London and explain," he suggested. + +"Let us go by Havre. I long to get away, and you ought to be home. I +will write to Mrs. Joe. Let us decide now." + +She was strangely insistent, even agitated. He noticed it and assumed +that she was depressed at the thought of leaving that which was her own +country, and longed to get a painful separation over. To him it was a +matter of indifference by what route they traveled, so long as Mrs. +Joe's susceptibilities were not wounded; and Natalie, assuring him that +her written explanation would prevent that misfortune, the matter was +settled. + +He kissed her as they entered their apartment; for a moment she held her +face close to his. + +That night, being alone and prostrate upon the floor of her room, where +she had sunk, humiliated and ashamed, she uttered a vow to heaven: + +"To him I will be henceforth true in all things; in thought as in deed. +Help me, heaven, to atone, by surrendering to him and in his service +every act and every thought." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +MRS. JOE ON CLERICAL BUMPTIOUSNESS AND MRS. FENTON'S SHOULDERS. + + +The family of Stormpoint remained abroad until long after Leonard and +his wife were established in the old Morley mansion in Hampton, finally +returning to America without Mark, who remained in England, ostensibly +on business connected with the Great Serpent. He had done nothing to +advance his mother's wishes with regard to Paula, assuming that the lady +had by this time recognized the futility of her hopes, and like the wise +woman he knew her to be, had become reconciled to the inevitable. She +was even wiser than he knew, and a part of her wisdom was to trust to +the future. She would admit defeat when she found herself defeated, +meanwhile acquiescing to all seeming in things as they were, placidly +listening to Paula's confidences as to that celibate sisterhood which +the damsel hoped some day to found, but which, as Mrs. Joe said to +herself, was not founded yet. + +Mark had extracted a promise both from his mother and from Paula that +their letters should contain "all the news of all the Claghorns," +meaning perhaps Mrs. Leonard Claghorn; and when the first letter came +from his mother he opened it eagerly and read: first a great deal of +political advice (at second hand from Mr. Hacket), and toward the end of +the epistle, matter of greater interest. + +"As to Leonard" (wrote the lady), "I fear marriage has not improved him. +Natalie makes the mistake of coddling him too much. Her notion of wifely +duty is extravagant. In their house a thousand things are done for +Leonard's comfort, all thought of by his wife, and her eyes follow him +about as though she were constantly on the watch to anticipate his +wants. She is very quiet in manner and seems rather to wish to echo +Leonard's opinions than to have opinions of her own; all of which has +other than a pleasing effect on Leonard. I suppose, too, that he has +arrived at an age (somewhat late in his case) in which the fact of his +own manliness is the most important fact of existence. He has not been +improved by contact with quite another world than that of Hampton, the +world of Adolphe de Fleury, in which he seems to have mingled rather +surprisingly. One would hardly recommend the allurements of Paris in +such companionship to a young theologian. You know the angels in +Paradise fell, though I do not mean to imply that Paris is paradise, or +Leonard an angel, fallen or otherwise; but his engaging innocence is +gone; perhaps it was inevitable. I am sorry to see in its place an undue +amount of the bumptiousness often affected by members of his profession. +It is quite distressing to think that he should degenerate, he who was +so beautiful to look at, so gentle, yet so strong--in short, so +naturally refined--a word, by the way, which I dislike, but it expresses +the idea. He is not so refined as he was; he is less pleasing to the +eye, there is a shadow of something in his face which I do not like--and +I do _not_ like the way with which he looks at Paula. + +"There, Mark, I have been long in coming to it--but you are not to +misunderstand me. I don't believe Leonard has a thought which could be +regarded as injurious to Natalie, but I don't think he regards feminine +beauty with the eyes one likes to see. I gave a little dinner a few +evenings since; only the Stanleys, the Fentons, Father Cameril and the +Leonard Claghorns. You remember Mrs. Fenton's style; her shoulders (very +beautiful they are--I say shoulders) too much in evidence for my taste. +Leonard hardly took his eyes off of them. Father Cameril, on the +contrary, hardly knew what to do with his to avoid seeing them, and I +don't know which of the pair made me most angry. I remember when Leonard +would have been oblivious of shoulders. + +"He is rather truculent, too, is Mr. Leonard, and fell foul of poor +Father Cameril in a manner which roused even Paula, on the subject of +the Apostolic Succession--in short, I never saw him at such a +disadvantage, and I'm afraid my indignation has carried my pen away. + +"Natalie is lovely. A little sad at times. She confided to me a secret +which no doubt accounts for her rather noticeable pensiveness. There +will be a baby in the old Morley house before the year is out." + +Mark pondered over his mother's letter often, and with more misgiving +than behooved a man interested in his neighbor only in ordinary +neighborly fashion. He did full justice to his mother's shrewd +observation, and believed that her letter was intended to convey more +than appeared on the surface, and his self-communings in reference +thereto were not cheerful. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +INTRODUCES DR. STANLEY, SATAN AND THE PRAYER MEETING OF MATRONS. + + +Mrs. Leonard Claghorn had been graciously received by the matrons of +Hampton. She was so interesting (they said), so foreign; and careful +cross-examination of those who had penetrated into the inner sanctuaries +of the Morley mansion had established the fact that there was not a +crucifix in the house. On the whole, the matrons were content. Surely, +the wife of a young professor, so thoroughly grounded in the faith as +was Leonard--though his prominence in the Seminary, in view of his +youth, might be deprecated by some--such a one could not remain +heretical, even if her religious education had been defective. How +awfully defective these excellent ladies did not know. + +On her part, Natalie had been no less gracious. "She'll be one of them +in a year," said Mrs. Joe, alluding to the matrons. "She'll be whatever +Leonard says." + +"I wish Father Cameril could talk with her," sighed Paula. + +"He lost his chance when he contradicted Leonard at my dinner." + +"She certainly is very loyal to her husband," admitted Paula. + +"Altogether too subservient," observed Mrs. Joe testily. "No woman +should permit her whole nature to be absorbed in that manner. No wonder +he's bumptious." + +"Bumptious!" + +"Conceited. Pliancy, Paula, is a virtue in a wife. I was pliant myself; +still the most devoted of wives ought to have an opinion of her own." + +"Natalie is so sweet," urged the extenuating Paula. + +"Sweet! So are you; so was I; so was Tabitha Cone to the man that gave +her that monstrous watch--but sweetness may be sickening." + +"Oh, Cousin Alice!" + +"It irritates me, because it's not Natalie's true character. She had a +mind of her own once, and a good one. Actually, she's superior to +Leonard----" + +"He's a very brilliant man, Cousin." + +"To look at, and glib; but inferior to his wife. Men generally are. Yet +she effaces herself. She overdoes her loyalty. She is playing a part!" + +"Cousin Alice!" remonstrated Paula. + +"I don't mean she's consciously a hypocrite, and you needn't flare. +She's imbibed some absurd notions of wifely duty, and is trying to carry +them out." + +An impression made upon an observer as keen as Mrs. Joe must have a +foundation. In her irritation the lady had expressed the truth. Natalie +was playing a part. + +Since the day in St. Roch when she, recalling a day long past, had lost +herself in a dream of what might have been--since then she had been +playing a part, the part of a penitent; the role she had assumed when +later, in humiliation and conscience-stricken, she had prostrated +herself before heaven, vowing the only atonement possible. + +She had seen the beginning of that change in Leonard which remained a +cause of irritation to Mrs. Joe; nor had she been ignorant of the +influences to which it was in part to be ascribed; but her conscience +had whispered that in very truth the effect of those influences was to +be attributed to herself. In her marriage an essential element had been +absent, and was wanting still. To complete that holy mystery and adorn +it with its rarer graces, to tinge its atmosphere with consecrated +incense, there must be spiritual union. If Leonard had not learned of +nobler joys than the lesser gratification that engaged his thoughts, was +it not because such joys had not been offered? + +To those religious teachings which had been deferred she now looked +forward as to the means whereby both could attain to that higher union +which she craved, and which when attained would surely soothe her +troubled spirit and aid in that atonement prescribed by her conscience +and which she had vowed, and of which the subservience disapproved by +Mrs. Joe was a minor manifestation. So, though timidly, for his +reluctance (so strange to her) was apparent, she sought to bring Leonard +to discussion of religious subjects. + +"Was Jonathan Edwards a great man?" she asked one day, and then +regretted her question, for at that passage of arms which had occurred +at Mrs. Joe's table, Father Cameril had mentioned the name, a fact +forgotten until it was recalled to her memory by the lowering brow of +Leonard. + +"A great man, indeed!" he answered; "an apostle of truth. Chattering +imbeciles like Father Cameril may tell you differently." + +"I was not thinking of Father Cameril. I read the title of your article, +'Jonathan Edwards, a Man Athirst for God.'" + +"So he was; and one who slaked his thirst at the well of knowledge. A +great and good man, Natalie, though shallow reasoners are glad to deny +the merit of the greatest of metaphysicians. The truth is they're afraid +of him." + +"Why afraid?" + +"Because his logic is inexorable, the unassailable truth he utters not +lovely to all hearers. Edwards declines to abate one jot or tittle of +God's message. It has become the fashion even among men of greater +intellect than Mr. Cameril has been endowed with to avoid Edwards, +but----" + +"I should think all would crave the truth. I would like to read him." + +"Not now," he said, kissing her. "Dr. Stanley advises steering clear of +Edwards," he continued, laughing, "though not for the usual reasons. You +must follow the fashion for awhile, Natalie." + +He knew that public opinion would expect, and in time demand, his wife's +union with the church. Had she been trained from childhood in orthodox +tenets her preparedness for the sacrament would have been presumed, and, +at some convenient season, when souls are garnered as crops are +garnered, it being assumed that they ripen like the fruits of the +earth, she would have been duly gathered to the fold with those other +members of the congregation whose time for experiencing religion had +come. But there was no presumption of early instruction in Natalie's +case. + +He would have been better pleased if his position had not required +deference to that opinion which would demand Natalie's entrance into the +doctrinal fold. If she were chosen for salvation, what difference could +it make whether she was instructed as to the Confession or not? Where +were the women that were so instructed? Nowhere. They had some phrases +and some faint recollection of Sabbath-school lessons, but as to any +real knowledge of the mysteries they professed, he knew that the laymen +of his denomination were in general as ignorant as those puppets of the +Romish priesthood who left such matters to their betters. And secretly +he regarded this as the correct system. He was not sorry that he had a +valid excuse for avoiding domestic theological discussion in the dictum +of Dr. Stanley. + +The doctor, who had been present on the occasion when Leonard had fallen +foul of Father Cameril, and who had been amused at the husband's +truculence, had also noted the anxious look of the wife. He had known +Leonard almost since boyhood and liked him; he was, for reasons of his +own, especially interested in Leonard's wife. + +Doctor Stanley's position in Hampton was not unlike that of Satan in the +world. He was endured of necessity and his services called in +requisition, because in certain straits there was no getting along +without him. "The parsons don't want to go to heaven," he would say, +"any more than the rest of us, so when they're sick they call me in, and +when they're well they smile on me; but, if I weren't a doctor, Hampton +would be too hot to hold me." All of which, if true, was because Dr. +Stanley was troubled with a theological itch of his own, and, though +calling God the "Unknowable," claimed knowledge with as much confidence +as his orthodox rivals, and with equal truculence. He was at some +disadvantage in his public onslaughts on Hamptonian strongholds, since +his followers were few; but at occasional lectures, the meagre proceeds +whereof went to sustain a Mechanics' Library, founded by the doctor for +the behoof of philosophical plumbers and carpenters, he sometimes +charged upon the foe with great gallantry, if but little effect. In his +private capacity he was genial, amiable and good-hearted, and, if hated +as an infidel, was loved as a man. As a physician, the general faith in +his skill was nearly unbounded. + +His wife, who laughed at him and loved him, was that Lettie Stanley of +whose ultimate salvation Miss Claghorn had grave doubt. She was, if +unhappily "passed by," still of the elect race, and Miss Achsah, on the +occasion of her union with the doctor, had expressed the opinion that +the Reverend Josias Claghorn, father of the unfortunate, had celebrated +the nuptials by turning in his grave. It was not known that she was, +like her husband, an absolute unbeliever, since she sometimes appeared +at public worship, and there were among the ladies of Hampton one or two +who maintained that she was a pious woman. However, it was certain that +she was heterodox, a grievous circumstance which gave great and just +cause of offense to these descendants of the original seekers after +liberty of conscience. She was active in charitable work, and though +admitted to the Shakespeare Society, was not a member of any of the +distinctly denominational organizations. She had been invited to the +"Thursday Prayer Meeting of Matrons," and had declined, flippantly, the +matrons proclaimed, and on the ground that though she was willing to be +prayed for, she did not wish to be prayed at. For the rest, she was a +handsome woman of middle age, with large, tender eyes and a cheery +disposition, tinged with a certain melancholy, which some called +cynicism. + +This lady had also noted with disapproval Leonard's manner on the +occasion of Mrs. Joe's dinner. "He's getting spoiled," she had observed +to her husband, as they left the hospitable mansion. + +"Theological manner," replied the doctor. "They can't help it. Cameril +would have been as bad, if he dared. What do you think of Leonard's +wife?" + +"A beautiful woman, who adores her husband. I wonder why her eyes are +sad?" + +"Her eyes are like yours." + +"Pshaw, Doctor; I'm an old woman----" + +"That's nonsense. She not only resembles you as to eyes, but in +disposition." + +"Of course you know all about her disposition." + +"It's my business to know. Mrs. Leonard's my patient, and her +idiosyncrasies----" + +"Are doubtless interesting, as pertaining to a handsome woman; but how +do they resemble mine?" + +"She's a religious enthusiast." + +"Well!" ejaculated the lady; "after years of observation that is your +wise conclusion. I won't say tell that to the marines, which would be +undignified, but tell it to the Hampton matrons." + +"The matrons of Hampton know nothing of religion; they're theologians." + +The lady laughed. "If she is really like I was at her age, I am sorry +for her. Had I married a man like Leonard----" + +"My dear, with your excellent taste you did much better; but I thought +Leonard was a favorite of yours." + +"I like him, but I detest his creed." + +"You don't suppose he believes it?" + +"He says he does, which is of more consequence." + +"How can any human being believe the Westminster Confession?" + +"I don't suppose any human being does. It's a question of obstinacy, +pride; a question of being caught in a trap." + +The doctor laughed. + +"You, my dear," continued the lady, "lack religious sentiment. You don't +care. _I_ cannot help being indignant when I see religion desecrated by +religionists. It may be from the same feeling that I am sorry for a +woman who adores her husband, and who must eventually find him out." + +"Find him out! My dear----" + +"I mean find out that he's not all that she has pictured. Leonard is a +very ordinary mortal." + +"But, on the whole, a very good fellow." + +"Undoubtedly, but--a theologian of Hampton. I don't think you +appreciate all that that may chance to mean to a woman you are pleased +to call a religious enthusiast--meaning, I suppose, a woman who really +craves religion." + +"You must not take a word too seriously. The fact is that Mrs. Leonard +has what may be termed an exalted temperament. One day I found her in +tears and with traces of great agitation. She had been reading a book of +ecstatic character. I hinted to Leonard that just now that sort of thing +wouldn't do----" + +"You were quite right. I remember that I suffered----" + +"I don't mean to say that the lady had been suffering; on the contrary, +I think she'd been having a good time. The book, by the way, was the +life of some Roman saint--but good times of that sort are not to be +indulged in by a lady about to have a baby." + +"What did Leonard say?" + +"Oh, he was amenable--more so than I expected. Of course, I said nothing +about the Catholic book. Leonard is like prospective fathers, easily +scared. They are much more tractable than prospective mothers; so I +scared him." + +The more easily that Leonard had been willing to be scared. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE MUSIC OF THE CHORUS OF THE ANGUISH OF THE DAMNED. + + +"Socrates," observed Miss Achsah, "is damned." + +"If _you_ say so, he must be," was the sarcastic rejoinder of Tabitha +Cone. + +Miss Claghorn, with a stern gaze at her companion, opened Hodge's +Commentary on The Confession of Faith and read: "'The heathen in mass, +with no single, definite and unquestioned example on record, are +evidently strangers to God and going down to death in an unsaved +condition.' That," she said, "settles Socrates." + +It did not settle Tabitha, whose question touched the weak spot in +Hodge's assertion. "Where'd he see the record?" she asked. + +"Tabitha," remonstrated Miss Achsah with evident sincerity, "sometimes I +doubt your election. The audacity of setting up _your_ opinion----" + +Tabitha was human and venerated print. She was a little frightened at +her own temerity, and Miss Claghorn's seriousness did not tend to +reassure her. "There's Brigston," she said weakly. + +"Yes; and there's 'Greenland's Icy Mountains,' and 'India's Coral +Strand,'" answered the lady pertinently, and closing the book and the +discussion. + +But, if closed at the White House, it raged furiously in the theological +world. Until recently the permanent abode of Socrates had been as well +known as that of Satan. No decree, whether of Roman or Protestant Pope, +had been needed to establish a fact settled to the satisfaction of all +(except, perhaps, to that of the Athenian sage) by the Eternal Decree of +Omnipotence. It was reserved for a deluded doctor of the rival Seminary +of Brigston to promulgate doubts of a self-evident truth. Such an +affront to Westminster and the immutable justice of God was not to be +borne in silence by Hampton. + +A storm of unexampled fury burst from theological clouds, and Leonard, +sniffing the odor of battle, joyously saw that his day had dawned. Into +the fray he plunged, a gallant knight armed with the sword of orthodoxy, +battling in the name of God and by the lurid light of hell, in order +that the music of the chorus of the anguish of the damned might still +arise, a dulcet melody, to heaven. + +And while the din of the holy war filled the air, Natalie welcomed a +little babe, the light of whose clear blue eyes melted her soul in +tenderness. To look into their celestial purity was to see heaven's +glory reflected in the azure depths. The deeper springs of tenderness, +closed to the rude touch of Leonard's passion, were opened, and love +undefiled gushed forth in a stream of unspeakable gladness. Her health +remained delicate, and she was long confined to the house, but, aside +from a pleasant languor, being physically at ease, she found in the care +of the infant sufficient occupation. She was glad that she could be much +alone with the boy, and held many and sweet communings with that soul +she had discovered in his eyes. She never wearied of reading the mystery +of those clear depths and, always connecting the child with heaven, in +her simple belief, imagining the newcomer as lately from that blissful +region, she built upon her fancies a system of theology which would have +startled and confounded the Hampton Matrons. And, as before, in sight of +the grandeur of God upon the waters, Leonard's lower self had been +humbled, so now, the beauty of a pure soul, all its glory set forth in +motherhood, chastened his earthly nature, and he bowed with the +reverence of simple souls to saints. + +Leonard's creed was, as is the case with creeds, a matter apart from his +life; wherefore there was nothing strange in the fact that he could +leave the presence of the two pure creatures, and retiring to his study, +damn countless souls to hell in essays of exceeding force and +brilliancy. Young as he was, all Hampton gloried in these labors whereby +Brigston was smitten and abashed. There were champions more learned, +being older; but, being older, their pens were encumbered with caution +and hampered by the knowledge that pitfalls and traps lurk in the dark +thickets of theological controversy. But Leonard had the daring of +youth. Logic was logic, and truth not for a day, but eternal. Truth led +to the Westminster Confession, which damns the great majority, Socrates +included. To quibble with the plain meaning of plain words would be to +follow the heretical Brigstonian, to deny the inspiration of Scripture, +to be a traitor to his party and his creed. If the same decree which +damned Socrates consigned the great majority of his own friends and +acquaintances to the same everlasting misery, it couldn't be helped. +And, in fact, there was no reason why Leonard should shrink from that +which thousands of men and women profess to believe, yet marry and bring +forth children doomed, the while eating dinner in content. + +Echoes of the merry war reached Natalie, but her curiosity was but +faintly stirred. She saw that Leonard avoided the topic when alone with +her, and was now content to learn nothing from her husband; seeing in +her child her best teacher in heavenly lore. Her exhibition of maternal +love extorted some disapproving comment; Mrs. Joe called it "uncanny," +Tabitha said she was a queer mother, Miss Claghorn disapprovingly +likened her adoration to Romanism--"Idolatry," she said to Tabitha. + +"Yet," replied Tabitha, "she hardly ever hugs or kisses him. She just +looks at him, and if you catch her at it she passes it off." + +"Just as you or I might if the cook were to come in while we were saying +our prayers." + +"Something 'ill happen to the child," said Tabitha ominously. + +Miss Claghorn did not dispute it; the two were so perfectly in accord as +to their sentiment in this matter that there was no chance for dispute. + +Thus, in a strange, secret relation, mother and child lived more than a +year together, and then Tabitha Cone's oracular prophecy was fulfilled. +Something happened to the child, which something was death; and Natalie +was stricken as by a thunderbolt. + +The most alarming phase of her illness was of short duration; she had +been long unconscious, and during that period they who watched her had +noticed, with something akin to awe, the heavenly peacefulness and sweet +smile of her face. From her mutterings they gathered that she roamed in +celestial regions with her boy. Dr. Stanley was evidently not favorably +impressed with these supposed visions, and as soon as it was feasible +ordered her removal to Stormpoint, where the sun shone brighter than in +the old house, and where there would be fewer reminders of her loss. + +Leonard, who had been severely stricken by the death of the child and +worn with anxiety on his wife's account, acquiesced. The complete change +of scene which the physician desired involved his absence from her side. +"Of course you'll visit her daily, if you choose," said the doctor, "but +if you are constantly together she will inevitably talk of the child and +of heaven, and we must keep her away from heaven." Natalie remonstrated, +but rather feebly. Since the birth of the child Mrs. Joe had seen less +cause to complain of undue absorption in the husband by the wife. Thus, +to keep Natalie from contemplation of heaven, Leonard returned to +contemplation of hell; for the war still raged, though with some +slackness. Leonard girded up his loins and prepared to inject the spirit +which had somewhat diminished during his own absence from the lines of +battle. + +The mistress of Stormpoint watched her new inmate keenly. "It's natural +that she should love her child, even though he's dead," she said to +Paula, "but she talks with him. I heard her." + +"Her faith is perfect," exclaimed Paula with solemn enthusiasm. "She +knows he lives forever." + +"That's all very well; but he don't live at Stormpoint." + +"She feels his presence, though she cannot see him." + +"She says she does. Of course, it's fiddlesticks; but the doctor ought +to know." + +And the doctor, being informed, agreed with Mrs. Joe that conversation +with angels was not to be encouraged. "A very little roast beef and a +great deal of fresh air," was his prescription, "A trip somewhere when +she is stronger. Meanwhile, keep bores away--Father Cameril and +Leonard." + +"I can't lock Leonard out." + +"I wish you could; he has a grievance and may be tempted to unburden his +soul to his wife." + +"I have heard of no grievance." + +"You will; the reaction has come. Yesterday they crowned him with +laurels; to-day they are damning him--of course, in parliamentary +phrase--from the president of the Seminary down to the janitor." + +"Impossible! Why, Doctor, only a few days since Dr. Burley spoke of him +in the highest terms." + +"A few days since! Ask him now. Leonard has played the frog to Burley's +ox. It was right to confute Brigston with Greek texts; they produced a +good deal of fog and little illumination. But Leonard must shove himself +in as interpreter between the heavyweights and the populace. Of course +his action was abhorrent; it is to me. There ought to be an _esprit de +corps_ in all professions. I shouldn't approve if some young medical +spark were to give away _our_ secrets." + +The physician, if flippantly, spoke the truth. Leonard had been rash, as +youth is wont to be. Wise and venerable heads had from the beginning +wagged in disapproval of his excess of zeal. To bury the Brigstonian +deep beneath the fragments of his own exploded logic was well, but it +was also well to be wary, to lay no hasty hand upon and drag forth +mysteries which could not bear the light of day. Leonard was brilliant; +but brilliancy was not caution. Theological argumentation, to be +convincing, must be obscure; mystification, rather than conviction, is +the prop of faith. + +"I'm sorry he's in trouble," observed the lady. + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Inevitable!" he exclaimed. "He's +obstinate and conceited. His last pamphlet, 'Dr. Burley's True Meaning,' +is monstrous. What right had he to give Burley away in that manner? If +Burley had wanted to state his meaning, wouldn't he have done it? +Leonard swallows the whole Westminster Confession at a gulp, and points +out that Hampton and Burley do the same thing. What maladroit +presumption! He ought to know that Hampton only bolts the morsel +because it must. Its contortions during the process of deglutition ought +to be charitably concealed. Who is Leonard that he should tear away the +veil which hides a harrowing spectacle?" + +Which burst of eloquence was not wholly intelligible to the lady, who, +however, saw the need of dragging the doctor down from his hobby. "Well, +he must not discuss these matters with his wife," she said, "if you +disapprove." + +"No. For ladies in the condition of our patient the Westminster +Confession is too lurid. Needless to say to a matron of your experience +that in the case of a bereaved young mother the brain should not be +excited, the affections over-stimulated, the fancy be allowed to rove at +will, either amid the joys of heaven or the horrors of hell." + +Wherefore Paula was instructed to avoid conversation concerning themes +celestial or infernal, and was thus deprived of a pleasure; for there +had been much loving talk between her and Natalie concerning the child, +now abiding in heavenly regions. Perhaps Natalie sorrowed a little, +noting that Paula no longer lingered over the favorite topic; if so, she +made no comment; her thoughts were her own. + +"What is true marriage?" she asked one day. + +"I--I don't know," replied Paula, taken unawares, and not sure whether +this new topic were celestial or infernal. "Celibacy, as the ideal +state----" + +"A wife vows obedience," interrupted Natalie--she had heard Paula before +on celibacy--"that's a small matter. Who wouldn't be obedient?" + +"But, suppose a husband were to require something wrong," suggested +Paula, disturbed by the fleeting vision of a wife of St. Perpetua +deprived of fish on Fridays by a wicked spouse. + +"He wouldn't be a true husband. My ideal of marriage is unity in all +things--tastes, hopes, beliefs----" + +"Belief, of course. And to the realization of that ideal a churchwoman +would lead her husband." + +"Or, if the husband were the better Christian, he would lead his wife." + +After due consideration, Paula repeated the monosyllable "if?" + +"And, if he showed no disposition to lead his wife, which might be the +case for some good reason, she ought to try and attain his standpoint. +Then she would evince that perfect sympathy which all the while the +husband may be longing for." + +"I--I suppose so," replied Paula, always dreading an approach toward +forbidden ground. + +"If a wife had wronged her husband, even without intention," Natalie +went on, after a considerable pause, "that fact would stand in the way +of complete sympathy." + +"There could be no wrong without intention--that is, no fault." + +"But still a wrong; one that the doer might find it harder to forgive +than the sufferer. If you were my wife. Paula----" + +"Say husband," said Paula, laughing, "and since you find obedience so +easy, I order you to prepare to let me drive you to the White House in +the pony-phaeton." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +CURSING AND BEATING HER BREAST, SHE FELL UPON THE GRAVE. + + +Mrs. Joe sought, and very easily obtained, Leonard's confidence in +regard to the grievance to which Dr. Stanley had alluded. Hampton had +been only too glad, so he averred, to accept his aid in overcoming +Brigston; and if that was in the way of accomplishment (and who could +deny it?) the fact was more attributable to him (Leonard) than to any +other man. "I simply popularized Dr. Burley's learned, but certainly +obscurely-written article, giving its author full credit; and now he +says I misrepresented him, and his complaint is echoed by every toady in +Hampton. The papers, even the secular papers, are actually making sport +of me." + +"But Dr. Burley can't deny what he wrote." + +Even Leonard smiled at her simplicity. "He can deny what I wrote, +although, in other words, it is exactly what he wrote. And that is +morally just as bad." + +The lady was full of sympathy; the more so as his "bumptiousness" was +gone. He had been plainly deeply wounded, yet out of consideration for +his wife, he had borne his grief in silence. In Mrs. Joe's eyes this +abnegation deserved recognition. There was a way by which he could +humiliate his enemies, and yet be of so much importance that they would +not venture to show resentment. She had, as we know, already "worked the +Seminary" in behoof of her "policy." She could work it a little more, +and help both Leonard and herself. Her donations to the library had not +heretofore been of large amounts, for she shrank from ostentation, but +she had always intended to be magnificent on some convenient occasion. +By being so through Leonard, she could avoid display and yet possess its +advantages, for the Seminary authorities would, of course, know the +source of a donation from a modestly anonymous lady, coming through the +hands of Leonard. + +So this matter was easily arranged. "And," suggested the lady, "after +you have given notice of the donation and have heaped coals on Dr. +Burley's head, go away for awhile. It will do you good, and they can +think their conduct over." + +The idea appealed to Leonard, who saw the situation dramatically; but +when Mrs. Joe proposed that he accompany herself, Paula and Natalie on a +visit to Mrs. Leon at Newport, he declined with some perturbation. "I'll +go to New York," he said. And, on the whole, Mrs. Joe thought this was +best, though she was surprised. + +She was glad when he had departed, believing that his absence would have +the effect of rousing Natalie from a condition incompatible with the +life of every day, in that it would result in wholesome longing for her +husband. And the politic lady soon saw her hope justified. Leonard had +been gone but a day when Natalie announced a desire to return to her own +house; not to remain, but to order some domestic arrangements, more +especially with the view of making Leonard's study more attractive than +it had been, even in those days of "coddling" which Mrs. Joe had once +found objectionable, but whose returning symptoms she now hailed with +approval. + +At Natalie's request she was driven past the cemetery, where she +alighted, and, bidding the coachman wait, she sought her child's grave. +Some tears came to her eyes as she laid flowers on the still fresh earth +and stood for many minutes leaning on the headstone. Her thoughts were +far away. In a room in Paris she saw a woman humbled by a consciousness +of wrong; and here, at the most sacred spot on earth, she renewed her +vow of atonement. + +She returned slowly to the carriage and was driven to the Morley +mansion, where she was welcomed with effusion by the maids. From them +she for the first time learned that her husband had often worked far +into the night, and while listening to their comments, she reproached +herself that she had left him alone. The house, with its closed +shutters, was gloomy even on this bright day; what had it been in the +long nights? + +She instructed the servants to prepare a light luncheon for her at noon +and leave it on the dining table, paying no further heed to her. She +intended, she said, to arrange her husband's books. + +But first she went upstairs. There beside her bed was the child's crib, +cheerless without its sheets and embroidery. The empty room, from which +daylight was nearly excluded chilled her. The rugs were removed and her +heels clicked sharply on the bare floor, making hollow echoes as she +walked. She overcame the oppressive sense of desolation and went about +her tasks. + +She put the child's trinkets away; the spoon which had been useless, the +cup from which he had never drunk, the gold chain given by Mrs. Joe, and +which, partaking of the nature of the Great Serpent, had been found too +heavy for agreeable wear; these were laid among her treasures. His +clothes, except the little gown he had worn when dying, were put aside +to be sent to poor women, already mothers or about to become such. +Leonard had once suggested kindly that they were too fine. "The mothers +won't think so," she had replied. + +This work finished, she closed the door of the room and walked down the +broad, old-fashioned stairway, every foot-fall echoing through the +ancient house of which she seemed to be the only occupant; and though +she knew the maids were at their tasks and within reach, the impression +affected her unpleasantly. She glanced more than once over her shoulder +as she descended the staircase and walked through the echoing hall. + +She entered the library--a large room, dedicated, at least nominally, +even in the days of Jeremiah Morley, to its present purpose, and later, +by Cousin Jared and her husband, lined from floor to ceiling with books, +a cheerful room when lighted, but now, with bare floor and closed +shutters, a gloomy vault in whose distant corners, where the shadows +were dark, the spirits of former occupants might lurk and peer at this +invader. The uncanny impressions that had been with her were deepened by +the sombre fancies awakened by the aspect of the room, in which the +confusion attendant on Leonard's labors was everywhere apparent. Books +were everywhere--on chairs, on tables, on the floor, face downward in +the shelves. + +She took up a small volume. Its evident antiquity attracted her and she +read the title-page: "Delay Not; or, A Call to the Careless," by the +Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn. Numerous names on the fly-leaves disclosed +that the book had been handed down through many Claghorns. The last name +was her husband's; preceding that his father's, to whom it had been +given, as testified by the inscription, by "E. Beverley Claghorn." E. +Beverley Claghorn, she knew, had been her own father. Turning the pages, +her attention was arrested. + +She read for hours. Sunk in a heap on the floor, forgotten by the +servants, her eyes gloated on the page written by her ancestor. No +romance had ever enchained her attention as did all this "Call to the +Careless." If the writer had so charmed the reader of his own +generation, the dead hand that had composed the pages which held this +reader spell-bound must have been guided by a brain cunning in the +author's craft. Whatever was the story, the woman lived in its terrors; +she cowered and moaned, her eyes stood out, and her face was a face +distorted by the horror of a soul in fear. But she could not leave the +story. Enthralled until the last page had been turned, she only then +looked up, and her eyes, which that morning had been bright with the +light of hope, born of the resolve to resume her duties as a wife, were +now dull with the shadow of an awful dread. + +She glanced fearfully around and tried to rise, but crouched again upon +the floor, one hand still clutching book and dust-cloth, the other held +as though to shield her from a blow. She uttered no word, but a strange, +hoarse rattle came from her throat, as though she would have prayed, had +her voice been at her command. At last she rose, half staggering, +retreating backward toward the door, as though she feared some presence, +and, not daring to turn, must face it. Thus she passed out of the room +and from the house. + +She walked, at first, with uncertain steps, then more firmly, and with +ever swifter stride. The by-streets through which she passed were quiet, +almost deserted; she was hardly noticed, though in one or two observers +a faint curiosity was aroused by the figure of the well-dressed, hatless +woman, be-aproned and clasping to her breast a dust-cloth and a book. As +for her, she noticed nothing as she hastened on. + +Without pause, with ever-increasing pace, which had now become a run, +she entered the gates of the cemetery, threading its alleys, seeing +nothing with her bodily eyes; for their horror and despair were no +reflection of the mournful yet peaceful scene in which she passed. She +came to the grave of her child. Again she crouched as she had done in +the library of her home; her despairing eyes were turned upward and her +hands raised in appeal to the serene and pitiless sky. + +Words came to her in the language of her childhood. "My God," she cried, +"Fiend that dwellest beyond the sky, have mercy. Pitiless Father, who +didst condemn thy Son for sport, whose nostrils love the scent of +burning men, whose ears find music in their agony, whose eyes gloat upon +their writhings, take me to thy hell of torment and release my child." + +And so, with frantic blasphemy, cursing God and beating her breast, she +fell forward upon the baby's grave. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +DR. STANLEY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE DIVERSIONS OF THE SAINTS. + + +At the hour agreed upon, Mrs. Joe left Stormpoint to fetch Natalie. As +the latter had done in the morning, and in order to inspect the +newly-erected headstone, she alighted from her carriage at the cemetery +and passed through various alleys, when, as she approached her +destination, she suddenly halted. + +A woman was stretched upon the grave, who, on hearing the ejaculation of +Mrs. Joe, partly raised her head, disclosing an earth-bedaubed face, and +emitting sounds not human, but rather the moans of a tortured animal. + +Mrs. Joe ran and seized her shoulder, and at the touch Natalie half +arose. Her gleaming eyes, her face distorted and soiled with +earth--these presented an appalling spectacle. + +The lady of Stormpoint could hardly have told how the task was +accomplished, but she succeeded in inducing the frantic woman to enter +the carriage, and, thus separated from the grave, she became quieter, +though never ceasing to mutter phrases which caused the listener to +shudder. Mrs. Joe was a woman of varied experience. She had heard the +oaths of mining camps when pistols and knives were out and frenzied +ruffians were athirst for blood; she would have thought no form of +profanity strange to her ears; yet she had heard no blasphemy equal to +that uttered by her companion, repeated as a weary child asleep may +repeat some hard-learned sentence impressed upon a tired brain. + +Arrived home, and Natalie in her bed, and withal lying quiet, and the +carriage dispatched at full speed for Dr. Stanley, there was time to +consider the next step. + +"Send for Father Cameril," urged Paula. + +"What is Leonard's address?" asked the lady, ignoring the suggestion. + +"Dear," said Paula, caressingly, and taking Natalie's hand, "where is +Leonard?" + +"In hell," was the answer. "I am overjoyed in hearing the howlings of +hell. My joy is increased as I gaze upon Leonard in the midst of that +sea of suffering." + +"Good Lord deliver us!" ejaculated Mrs. Joe. Paula fell upon her knees. +"Father in heaven!" she commenced. + +Natalie looked at her with languid interest "The sight of hell-torments +exalts the happiness of the saints," she said. + +At this delectable quotation from Jonathan Edwards Mrs. Joe wrung her +hands; Paula uttered a half scream and burst into tears; in the same +moment Dr. Stanley was ushered into the room. + +"A frightful shock!" was his verdict. "Absolute quiet! No tears; no +exorcisms," with a warning finger upheld for Paula. "I'll send a nurse +at once and return soon." + +By night he was again in the house, having received bulletins from the +nurse in the meanwhile. The patient was asleep; had been so for nearly +three hours. "Excellent!" he said to Mrs. Joe, finding that lady +awaiting his report in the library. "It's a fine brain, Mrs. Claghorn. +Let us hope it may prove a strong one. Can you explain further than you +could this afternoon?" + +"The keeper of the cemetery knows nothing. Her maids are here. I sent +James for them, and have kept them to be questioned by you." + +The maids only knew that Mrs. Leonard had visited the house, and had +spent the day in the library; that one of them, noting that her mistress +had neglected the luncheon that had been laid out for her, had ventured +to look into the room. "She was crouched on the floor, reading; I could +not well see her face. When I spoke she waved her hand, as though I was +not to interrupt. That was about two o'clock. I went back to the +kitchen, just putting the tea on the range so's to heat it. Then neither +Martha nor I thought anything more about her, until about five Martha +thought she heard the front door slam. We looked in the library; she +was gone. She hadn't touched the lunch." Such, relieved of some +circumlocution, was the report of the maid most glib of speech. They +were dismissed by the doctor. + +"She has done," was his comment, "that which creed-adherents usually +omit. She has read, and as a consequence is crazed." + +"Crazed as a consequence of reading!" exclaimed Mrs. Joe. + +"Mrs. Leonard has sustained a shock; there must be a cause. No external +injury is discoverable. The cause is to be found in her moral, or, if +you please, her spiritual constitution--I don't care what you call +it--among other things in strong maternal yearnings--subjective causes +these, and not sufficient to explain the seizure; there must have been +an agent. The maid found her deeply absorbed; people that read crouched +on the floor are so; therefore a book----" + +"I took this from her," exclaimed the lady, producing the Reverend +Eliphalet's "Call to the Careless." + +"Aha!" exclaimed the doctor, pouncing upon the volume and glancing at +the title-page, "here we have it; here's enough to convert a lying-in +hospital into Bedlam." + +Mrs. Joe gazed upon the fat little volume in the hand of the speaker, +with the same expression with which a novice might contemplate an +overgrown spider impaled upon the card of a collector. + +"This unctuous treatise," proceeded the doctor, who, finding his hobby +saddled, was impatient to mount, "was written by a shining light of that +family to which you and I have been graciously permitted to ally +ourselves. In this volume are recorded the ecstatic transports of one of +the most blessed of the blessed Claghorns. Our patient may have derived +her tendency to exaltation from this very rhapsodist. Here, with the +Reverend Eliphalet, we may revel in angelic joys; with him, we may, +god-like, gloat over sinners damned, and, enraptured, contemplate +Flames, Torment and Despair; here our ears may be charmed with the Roars +of Age, the Howls of Youth, the Screams of Childhood and the Wails of +Infancy; all in linked sweetness long drawn out; all in capital +letters, and all extorted by the Flames that Lick the Suffering +Damned!" + +"Doctor!" exclaimed the lady, scandalized at that which she supposed was +a burst of profanity. + +"Shocked? Well, shocking it is--in me, who refuse to believe it, but +edifying in Eliphalet. Ah! madam, the evil that men do lives after them. +Was truth ever better exemplified? Listen to this: The writer pictures +himself in heaven and looking down into hell. 'What joy to behold Truth +vindicated from all the horrid aspersions of hellish monsters!' (that's +me) 'I am overjoyed at hearing the everlasting Howlings of the Haters of +the Almighty! Oh! Sweet, sweet. My heart is satisfied!'" + +The lady attempted to interrupt, but the doctor continued to read: "The +saints in glory will see and better understand (than we do) how terrible +the sufferings of the damned are! When they have this sight it will +excite them to joyful praises,' that's a choice bit from Jonathan +Edwards. What do you think of the diversions of 'the saints in glory?'" + +"It's blasphemy!" + +"Blasphemy! Tell it not in Hampton! But listen to Jonathan again. Here +is his picture of a sinner just condemned. His parents are witnesses of +his terror and agony, and thus they righteously gloat: 'When they shall +see what manifestations of amazement will be in you at the hearing of +this dreadful sentence; when they shall behold you with a frightened and +amazed countenance, trembling and astonished, and shall hear you groan +and gnash your teeth, these things will not move them at all to pity +you, but you will see them with a holy joy in their countenances and +with songs in their mouths. When they shall see you turned away and +beginning to enter into the great furnace, and shall see how you shrink +at it, and hear how you shriek and cry out, yet they will not be at all +grieved for you; but at the same time you will hear from them renewed +praises and hallelujahs for this true and righteous judgment of God in +so dealing with you!'" + +"If," interjected the listener, "that is written there, the devil wrote +it." + +"The devil may have had a hand in the matter, but it was written by no +less a person than Jonathan Edwards, regarded, and justly, by the +Reverend Eliphalet and others, as a great man. He is also quoted here as +saying to his hearers, 'If you perish hereafter, it will be an occasion +of joy to all the godly'; one is hardly surprised that he didn't get on +with his congregation. Imagine Father Cameril making that announcement +with you and Miss Paula in the front pew." + +"Doctor, if you are not inventing----" + +"I could not. My imagination is not warmed by the flames of hell or by +celestial visions. This book is filled with similar elegant extracts." + +"I have heard enough, Doctor. Really----" + +"Permit me one or two more. We have hardly heard the author himself as +yet." + +"But to what end?" + +"You were incredulous when I asserted that a day's reading in Leonard's +library would account for the present condition of his wife. It's only +fair to allow me to justify my assertion." + +"You have read enough to drive _me_ crazy, if for one moment I believed +it." + +"Hardly. _You_ are not a recently bereaved mother; _you_ are not just +emerging from a condition consequent upon disturbance of the physical +economy which has reacted upon the mental; _you_ are not inclined to +mysticism, to see visions, to find pictures in goblets of water or in +grate fires; in short, while you have your own idiosyncrasies, they are +not of a character to render you liable to this sort of transport. But +there are organizations which, though seduced by mystic lore, can hardly +contemplate such matters without injury. The compiler of this book, the +men he quotes, the ecstatics in general--revivalists, hermits, nuns and +monks in all ages--do you believe that as a class they were well +balanced? Peering into heaven is a dangerous business." + +"The men you have quoted seem to have peered into hell." + +"That is the Puritan mode of ecstatic enjoyment. Our Catholic--I beg +your pardon, our Roman Catholic--enthusiasts, being more artistic, and +lovers of the beautiful, prefer contemplation of heaven. Unlike the +smug Puritan, they do not spare their bodies. They fast and flog, wear +hair shirts, roll in ashes and wash seldom, but their eyes are turned +upward; they urge the spirit to rejoice. Your fat and well-fed Calvinist +prefers a gloom irradiated by the flames of hell, in which he can behold +the writhing victims of God's vanity----" + +"Doctor, you are as bitter as all your brethren; you unbeliever----" + +"I don't know that I'm more of an unbeliever than you are. I'm sure if +the Reverend Eliphalet has not by this time modified his opinions, he +has no expectation of meeting you in heaven. Hear him as he warns +humanity against the devices of Satan: 'Of which,' he says, 'the traces +are visible even in the church. In these days there hath arisen a +delusive hope as to infants. Some hold, and a few dare to assert, though +with bated breath, that all infants die in the grace of God. Who saith +this? Not God, who, by His Eternal Decree, hath declared that none but +His Elect are saved. Not our Confession of Faith, formulated at +Westminster in earnest prayer and reverence for the Word. Not the +framers of that Confession, of whom I may mention Twisse, as having +specially wrote against this new-born folly, extorted by the cunning of +the Enemy of Souls by means of the bleatings of foolish mothers--search +the Scripture, reader! Nowhere shalt thou find any saved but His +Elect.'" + +"Abominable!" ejaculated the lady. + +"Poetical. 'Bleatings of foolish mothers' is quite so. And now our good +man actually drops into the poetry of the Reverend Michael Wigglesworth, +whose 'Day of Doom' he quotes at length. I will not inflict the whole +fifteen stanzas upon you; but listen to a morsel or two. This is the +Argument: The Still-born appear at the Seat of Mercy, and put in a plea +for grace that might have weight in Senegambia, but which has none in +the heaven of Eliphalet and of Hampton: + + 'Then to the bar they all drew near who died in Infancy, + And never had, or good or bad, effected personally, + But from the womb unto the tomb were straightway carried + (Or at the least, ere they transgressed), who thus began to plead.' + +"Their plea is that since Adam, the actual delinquent, has been 'set +free, and saved from his trespass,' they are on better grounds entitled +to consideration. To the finite intelligence there would seem to be some +force in the infantile argument. What says Omnipotence? + + 'I may deny you once to try, or grace to you to tender, + Though he finds Grace before my face who was the chief offender. + You sinners are, and such a share as sinners may expect, + Such you shall have, for I do save none but mine own elect; + Yet to compare your sin with their who sinned a longer time, + I do confess yours is much less, though every sin's a crime; + A crime it is, therefore in bliss you may not hope to dwell, + But unto you I shall allow THE EASIEST ROOM IN HELL.'" + +The doctor closed the book. "I submit that I have proved my contention," +he said. "Do you doubt now that Mrs. Leonard was affected by her +browsings among Leonard's books? The men who wrote the matter of which +this volume is made up were largely the founders of Hampton, men whose +names she has heard venerated as almost inspired of God." + +"Even so, how could she believe such absurdities?" + +"I do not assert that she believed. Belief in the impossible is +impossible. But have you never been deeply impressed by fiction; never +been scared by a ghost story? Have you shed tears over the sorrows of +Colonel Newcome? The few quotations you have heard cause you to shrink, +though you are well aware they are but foolish words. But if you could +_see_ the scenes herein depicted, I do not think you could bear the +prospect. I am sure _I_ should howl as lustily as any hellish monster +here referred to. Well, Mrs. Leonard being so constituted, has actually +_seen_ these horrors, and, in the central figure, has contemplated the +writhings of her child." + +"Oh, Doctor!" she spoke in a subdued tone, her eyes expressing more than +her words. + +"Even you, here in this well-lighted and cheerful room, with me, a very +material and matter-of-fact person, beside you, even you can feel a +faint reflection of the terrors in which this woman spent the day. +Alone, without food, a deserted room, a gloomy house, but lately +cheerful with the prattle of a childish voice, forever silent, but of +which the echoes still linger in the mother's ears--here's enough and +more than enough to disturb an exalted temperament, a morbid +imagination. Add this"--the doctor shook the book in his hand--"and what +need of belief, if by belief you mean the result of a reasoning process? +The ideas suggested _here took possession of her_! Belief! Pshaw! nobody +believes in this stuff; but Hampton says it believes." + +"But that's monstrous!" + +"Nothing more common than loud assertions of belief where is no belief. +That's politics, partisanship." + +"But this is religion----" + +"So-called." + +"But----" + +"The Westminster Confession is a written document. The men who composed +it knew what they wished to say, and said it so clearly that nobody can +misapprehend their meaning. Your own creed of compromises--pardon me, +compromise is always the resort of politicians who understand their +business--was wiser, or luckier; its Articles are all loopholes in +regard to this doctrine of Election----" + +"Doctor, your ignorance of my church is so palpable that I decline to +take your word concerning Hampton and the Confession of Faith. I've +never read it----" + +"Even its adherents are not so rash. It becomes a serious matter as to +one's self-respect to maintain a monstrous absurdity, after one knows +it. Nevertheless, the Westminster Confession teaches as truth all that +the Reverend Eliphalet says, or that Michael Wigglesworth grotesquely +sings. Moreover, it is annually published under the title of 'The +Constitution and Standards of the Presbyterian Church in the United +States of America'--a solemn declaration that God, before the creation +of man, damned the great majority to everlasting agony so excruciating +as to be beyond conception, and all for His own glory and pleasure." + +"Yet I know, and you ought to know, that Christianity offers salvation +to every soul through the medium of its Founder." + +"Denied _in toto_ by Westminster. According to the Confession, not even +Jesus Christ could diminish the number of the damned, fixed before the +creation of a single soul. If Mrs. Leonard's baby was born to be damned, +damned he is." + +"Now I know you are asserting what is not so. I have heard infant +damnation denied by Hampton professors." + +"And may again. I do not claim that a single human being believes the +Westminster Confession; but I do maintain that he who acknowledges that +Confession as his standard, and retains membership in that church, which +annually promulgates the same as truth, either believes an outrageous +absurdity, or says he believes it. If he is not willing to do this, he +has no right in the organization; why, only the other day Dr. Willis was +requested to get out because he declined to say he believed that which +he does not believe." + +"Doctor, I am sorry to say it, but your statements are not credible----" + +"Don't apologize. Of course they are not; but they are true. I certainly +don't blame you for doubting my word. But you shall ask Hodge; I'll lend +you his commentary. Hodge hopes as to infants, but is honest enough to +admit that in the Confession there is no ground for hope. He damns all +heathen incontinently, which includes all the babies I ever knew, though +he may have known babies that were not heathen. And, after all, why this +solicitude for babies? Why is it less monstrous to condemn to eternal +torture a being six feet long than one of three? Why, on the last +occasion I was in a church I heard these words: 'The sentiment which +sorrows over what God reveals as His will is simply maudlin. When the +Christian finds out who are in the regions of despair he will neither be +affected by their number nor by the duration of their punishment.' +That's not much better than 'bleating mothers.' And in the +meanwhile"--he concluded a tirade so rapidly uttered that his auditor +had had no opportunity to interrupt--"they are quarreling about Socrates +and tobacco, crusading against my bottle of claret, and sending +missionaries to Japan." Who "they" were he had no opportunity to +designate, for at this moment a messenger from the nurse announced that +the patient was awake. + +When the doctor and the lady entered the room, Natalie looked at them, +but betrayed no surprise. Mrs. Joe was startled by the expression of her +face, which was peaceful, even happy. "Heaven is beautiful," she said, +without other preface. "Birds and flowers and little children. Oh! the +happy little children and Lenny among them; all so happy, so rosy! Ah, I +am glad!" And even as she sighed her gladness she sank into slumber. The +doctor watched her anxiously for many minutes; then he signed to Mrs. +Joe to follow, and they softly left the room. + +"Is it death?" asked the lady, who had been frightened by his anxious +face. + +"Such visions often mean death; there's nothing certain yet, but every +hope. Go to bed, Mrs. Claghorn; I shall remain here." + +But though the lady declined to go to bed, the discussion was not +resumed. + +About four in the morning he went alone to the room, and soon returned +with a smiling face. "She is sleeping naturally," he said. "A few hours +since I feared for her reason; now I have great hope. I shall return at +eight o'clock. Let nobody go near her. Burn that thing; she must never +see it again." He pointed to the "Call to the Careless," and left the +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +STARTLING EFFECT OF "DR. BURLEY'S TRUE MEANING." + + +Leonard remained in New York, ignorant of the events which had +transpired at Stormpoint, concerning which, however, he was soon +informed by a letter written by Mrs. Joe, a letter which conveyed the +intelligence that his wife had fainted in the cemetery "as a consequence +of over-exertion," that Dr. Stanley wished the intended visit to Newport +to be made as soon as possible, that there was no need of his presence +in Easthampton, and that if he were to come there he would probably find +his wife already departed. All of which, though dictated by the +physician, had been written with misgiving, as conveying an insufficient +statement of the facts. But the doctor had been peremptory. "Keep them +apart," he had said. "The only subject on which Leonard can expatiate +just now is damnation, and of that the wife has had more than enough." + +Leonard evinced no desire to follow the Newport party. Misled by the +communication from the lady of Stormpoint, and yet more influenced by +reluctance to enter the household of Mrs. Leon, of which household he +assumed Berthe Lenoir to be still an inmate, he was willing to enjoy a +holiday which he thought he had fairly earned. Mrs. Joe, though +surprised by his acquiescence, was relieved. She was still more +surprised when her keen vision detected that Natalie was equally +relieved. "It seemed," she observed to the doctor, "to lighten her +heart." + +"Instinct," he replied, and made no further comment; but though +ordinarily very discreet as to professional matters, he mentioned the +circumstance to his wife, at the same time advancing a theory which +startled that lady. + +Freed from anxiety concerning Natalie, whose letters, though very short, +reported continuing improvement in the matter of health, Leonard +resolved, for the present at least, to forget the ingratitude of +Hampton, and to enjoy to the fullest his bachelor outing. He recalled +his strolls on Parisian Boulevards, and in fancy lived in past delights, +promenading Broadway with the old Parisian strut, though modified, and +not oblivious of the fact that here, as in Paris, were handsome eyes, +not unwilling to return the glance of one who had been likened to a +Greek god. + +Sometimes, indeed often, he lamented that his lot had not been cast in +the great world. His instincts truthfully told him that, as a man of +action, he would have presented no mean figure; there were even moments +when he wished, though he knew the futility of such a wish, that he +might never see Hampton or hear of theology again. This he knew well +enough was but the natural reaction from the strain of his recent +labors, but he toyed with the thought, half playfully, half regretfully, +as indicating one of the things that might have been. If there were any +conscience-pricks they were too feeble to be felt; he had ceased to be a +boy (so he said to himself); the boy, for instance, he had been when, on +the Heidelberg terrace, he had yearned over the erring soul of his +cousin. The religious sentiment which once had glowed so ardently in his +bosom was burned out, consumed in the heat of partisan theology; but +though he knew this, he did not know the meaning of the fact. To him it +meant that his salvation was assured, and with that conviction the great +concern of life had passed into the peace which passeth understanding. + +Just now, however, he was not giving much attention to his personal +religious attitude, as he moved among the city's throngs well-clad, rosy +and with the form and grace of an athlete and the eager eyes of +innocence and unconscious desire. In the delight of the holiday, a +delight which sometimes rose to a surprising fervor, he thought of +certain Parisian peccadillos, and more than once half resolved to renew +his acquaintance with the ballet and _belles jambes_, like unto those of +Mademoiselle Coralie, which gamboled ravishingly in the haze of memory; +but he rejected the imprudent suggestion; he might be recognized, and +Brigston would rejoice in unholy glee, if its most potent adversary--he +wondered if this fact were known to the passers-by--were discovered in a +temple of dubious recreation. Such recollections brought Paris very +vividly before his eyes, and for some reason also the memory of Berthe +and of that rapturous kiss; and perhaps at such times the handsome face +assumed the look of which Mrs. Joe had disapproved. + +The remembrance of Berthe recalled Natalie, who, as he believed, was in +the house with her former maid, and Natalie's beauty, and he was filled +with tenderness, and his soul yearned with a great longing, and had it +not been that Berthe was there he would have fled to Newport. He +recognized now a fact of which he had, in a vague way, been long +conscious, the fact that ever since the birth of the boy he and his wife +had grown somewhat apart. She had been engrossed with the child, and he +with his theological war. He regretted it, and resolved that it must not +be so in the future. Loving one another as they did, it would be easy to +grow together again. He would tell her how grievously he had been +treated by Hampton, in its envy; and on the beautiful bosom that he +loved and that was his own, would pour out his griefs and find sweetest +solace. If she would only curtail her visit! + +One day there came a letter from his wife which he opened in the eager +hope that it would announce the termination of her stay in Newport. He +was disappointed in this, and was further rendered uneasy by the tone of +constraint in which it was written, or which he imagined; for if there +were constraint, it was hard to point out just where it lay; yet he +felt, if he could not see, that the pen of the writer had been heavy in +her hand. But he was more than uneasy; he felt resentment rising within +him as he read the postscript, which was as follows: "Do you believe +that there is an eternal hell and that many are condemned? Will you +answer this as briefly as possible?" + +He studied the written words with growing annoyance. The curtness of the +question seemed to indicate that to the questioner the matter was of +minor import--trivial, in fact; if she really thought thus, then all his +recent labors had been labor in vain. Nothing had so angered him as +suggestions of this character, frequently made by a godless secular +press. One journal had, with pretended gravity, argued that since all +heathen and their progeny must be damned, extermination was more +merciful than the hopeless attempt at conversion, and at least as +practicable; another had flippantly suggested that Professor Claghorn be +required to demonstrate the utility of theological seminaries, since no +product of those institutions could, by any possibility, be instrumental +in saving a single soul--and so on. All of which he had borne with a +fair show of equanimity, but he had smarted; and now Natalie's question +seemed, at first sight, an echo of the unworthy journalistic jibes. +There might be various opinions concerning hell; it was conceivable that +the great majority preferred an attitude of incredulity as to its +inevitable destination; but, at least, it was a serious subject. + +But later readings of the letter seemed to indicate that it had been +written with a heavy heart. There was affection in it, but a tone of +gloom as well, which, though Natalie admitted that her health was +completely restored, was too apparent to permit the supposition of a +trifling postcript. The inference, then, must be that she had arrived at +a not uncommon stage of religious agitation, often preliminary to +conversion, a stage which he knew to be frequently of intense suffering +to the neophyte, though satisfactory to pious observers, who were +inclined to see in the lowest depths of misery the sure precursor of the +highest joy. He had, himself, at an unusually early age, passed through +a similar experience, and though that period of anguish was so far +behind him that he could not recall its terrors, he knew that they had +been very dreadful, and that his parents, to whom he had been as the +apple of their eye, had been correspondingly complacent. There was, in +these days, less of the agonized form of religious experience, but he +could easily understand that it might happen to Natalie, who, in +religion, was still but a babe. + +The only way to deal with the matter was the way in which it had been +treated in his own case. There must be no slurring of the truth. He +would disdain that course in private as much as he had disdained it in +public. Hampton might shrink from disclosure of eternal verity; he would +not. + +Wherefore, he sent to Natalie his pamphlet, entitled, "Dr. Burley's True +Meaning," not sorry that she should see how clearly and uncompromisingly +he could state matters which others had been willing to obscure. The +true meaning of the Confession, and, therefore, of the Bible, and, +therefore, of the learned biblical scholar whose text Leonard +illuminated, was that the majority of mankind was on the way to a hell, +eternal, and of torture inconceivable. + +The pamphlet was relentless, as was proper; but in his accompanying +letter to his wife Leonard was very tender. He showed her that there was +but one course to pursue in the face of indisputable truth, and that was +resignation to the will of heaven. Weak humanity might grieve over God's +will; such sorrow was certainly pardonable by man, but was nevertheless +rebellion; and, before complete reconciliation to God could be assumed, +must be dismissed from the heart. Leaving religion, he proceeded to tell +his wife that his longing for her was growing absolutely insupportable, +and he was much more fervid in his petition that she hasten her return +home than he had been in his doctrinal expositions. He dispatched his +letter, and returned to his former avocations, but with little spirit; +he longed for Natalie, and had no room for other than the thoughts that +accompanied his longing. In a few days he was able to start for home, +Natalie having, in a very short letter, in which she made no comment on +the one he had last written, announced her arrival in Hampton by a train +due there a few minutes later than the one from New York by which he +traveled, and when he finally alighted at the station, he was tremulous +with anticipation, and his disappointment was proportionate when the +Newport train arrived with none of the expected travelers. + +There was nothing to do but to bear a revulsion of feeling, which was +actually painful. He walked across the Square to his home, and found the +maids with everything prepared for his arrival, and with a letter from +Natalie which informed him that she would be in Hampton on the +following morning. + +He went early to bed, discontented and fretful. He slept badly, and in +the night got up and wandered restlessly about, and in his wanderings +made a discovery which might have remained unnoticed had the fancies +which vexed his repose been of a different character. + +After the birth of her child, Natalie had occupied a room separate from +her husband's, in order that the latter, whose literary labors were +exacting, should not be disturbed. In his prowling Leonard discovered +evidences that this arrangement was to be continued, and as he stood in +the gaslight considering the tokens whereby he inferred that one room +was reserved for masculine, the other for feminine occupancy, he +mentally pronounced the arrangement unsatisfactory, and experienced a +feeling of vexation amounting to resentment. + +But resentment gave way when, next morning, having seen Mrs. Joe and +Paula drive away to Stormpoint, and having followed Natalie to the room +which he had inspected the night before with dissatisfaction, he once +more held her in his arms. The light that gleamed from her eyes, the +roseate hue upon her feverish cheeks, the rich red lips upon which he +pressed his own hungrily--the beautiful reality, fairer than the fairest +vision of his hours of longing, banished every thought but one. + +He held her long in a close embrace. He was very happy, and when she had +withdrawn from his arms he sat upon the edge of the bed telling her of +his disappointment of the day before, and of his nocturnal prowlings, +and laughingly advancing his objections to the sleeping arrangements she +had ordered. Meanwhile, she said but little, being engaged in searching +for something in her trunk. At length she found whatever she had been +seeking. "Leonard," she said, "go down to the library. I must speak to +you, but not here." + +The manner and the tone puzzled him--then he remembered. He sighed +involuntarily. It was an inopportune moment to discuss conversion--but +since she was in its throes----He went downstairs; his face betrayed +vexation. + +Soon she entered the room where he awaited her, seated in a big chair. +She knelt before him, taking his hand in hers. "Leonard," she said, "I +am sorry you don't like the arrangement of the bedrooms." + +Her solemnity had led him to expect something of greater importance than +this, which was, however, decidedly a more welcome topic. "You know, +dearest," he said, with a quizzical look, "as husband and wife----" + +"Leonard! Leonard! We dare not be husband and wife." + +He stared at her in amazement. "What do you mean?" he said. + +"I mean this," she answered, producing "Dr. Burley's True Meaning." "Oh, +Leonard! How could the same man write that book and be a father?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +HE CLASPED HER LITHE BODY WITH A CLUTCH OF FURY. + + +Mrs. Joe had not obeyed Dr. Stanley's injunction, to burn the "Call to +the Careless," but had studied that delectable composition sufficiently +to compel her to exonerate the doctor from her suspicion, that he had +invented much of the matter, which he had, in fact, read from the text +before him. + +Her researches had not been without an object. It is, perhaps, +unnecessary to point out that this lady's conscience was sufficiently +elastic for ordinary purposes, even for ordinary political purposes, and +it might have with stood the assaults made upon it by her investigation, +had she been of the usual sex of politicians. She could go far in the +interests of her son, but long ago she had borne another child, whose +smile as it faded in death had ever been, at odd moments, before her, +and constantly before her during her wanderings in fields theological, +and she had but recently seen a woman crazed by contemplation of her +baby in hell. When she had learned, by means of her studies, that a +great ecclesiastical body still dooms the vast majority of those born of +woman to everlasting woe, it came upon her like a blow in the face that, +in order to see her son in the legislature, she had aided in +promulgating the diabolical creed which, in the face of nineteen +centuries of Christianity, is still waved aloft as the Standard of a +Christian Church. + +Upon the first shock of this knowledge she followed the inevitable +course of the conscience-stricken, and proceeded to argue with the +inward monitor. "Nobody believes that now," she insisted; "the actual +belief has been modified to accord with common sense. No Christian can +admit that God is a demon, and no Christian can teach impossible +falsehood." In answer to which, Conscience pointed to the title-page, +which proclaimed the Confession to be the "Standard of the Presbyterian +Church in the United States of America.'" She resolved to seek +enlightenment at the acknowledged head of human wisdom in Hampton, and +called for the purpose on the great Dr. Burley himself. Him she +encountered as he was emerging from his front door. "Does Hampton +actually uphold the Westminster Confession?" she asked. + +"Certainly, my dear madam, so does Brigston." + +"I'm not interested in Brigston. I am in Hampton." + +"And we are all glad that it is so. But, I see--I've always been afraid +of it; you are going to try and get us all over to St. Perpetua, ha! +ha!" + +"And does Hampton really believe----?" + +"Only what is true. I must be off to my lecture now; we must have it out +some other time. How's the Bishop? Fine fellow; wish we had him. +Good-bye; Mrs. Burley will be _delighted to_ see you," and the doctor +waved the lady into the house and made his escape. + +Having no desire to call upon Mrs. Burley, the lady of Stormpoint +remained in the vestibule only long enough for the gentleman to get +away; she then descended the steps and was about to enter her carriage, +when she was accosted by Dr. Stanley, who, after the usual salutations, +asked her if she had seen Leonard recently. + +"I am about to call on him now--on unpleasant business." + +"That's a pity. You'll wish you had stayed at home. I have just left +him; he's as cross as three sticks, which I suppose are crosser than the +proverbial two." + +"I suppose because the newspapers are still nagging him." + +"Perhaps; yet if you could manage a confidential talk with Mrs. Leonard, +it might be a good thing." + +"Ah! You've noticed that there's domestic trouble? I have suspected it. +Why was he willing to stay away from Newport? Why was his wife reluctant +to come home?" + +"Perhaps you can find out. Doctors can't ask indiscreet questions more +than other people." + +"And you think I can, or will?" In answer to which the physician merely +shrugged his shoulders. + +The lady drove away, her distaste for the task before her not diminished +by the encounter. She was quite sure that the physician would not have +made the allusions, which had fallen from him, unless he believed that +the domestic status in the Morley mansion was of grave significance. +Which, in fact, it was; a dark shadow loomed, ever larger, in the old +house. + +Leonard was very unhappy. Natalie's ignorance, in respect to his +longings, her utter absence of sympathy; these formed the side of the +shadow visible to him. He was irritable, at times harsh; but more deadly +in its possible results was a sullen resentment, so deep that its +ferocity and strength were unsuspected by himself. He was gazing moodily +out of the library window when Mrs. Joe's equipage stopped at the door, +and in another moment the lady was ushered in. + +"What is it?" he asked shortly. His manner was divested of its usual +graces. He looked moodily at the floor. + +"Only a matter of business. Leonard, have you informed the Hampton +people of the gift of which I spoke to you?" + +"It has been mentioned." + +"Leonard, I ought not to give it." + +"You don't mean you have met with serious losses?" he exclaimed, +impressed by her manner. + +"No, no! But my views have changed; that is, I have made discoveries. +Will it annoy you, personally, if the gift is not made?" + +"I shall regret it; but nobody will blame me, if that's what you mean." + +She was relieved. Still, it was painful to withhold a promised gift, +especially painful to deprive him just now of the credit of being her +almoner. "I wish you to take this," she said, handing him a cheque. "Let +it go to the poor of the town, the hospital, the blind asylum----" + +He took the slip of paper she held out to him. He was startled by the +amount. "Mrs. Joe----" he commenced. + +"We can arrange as to details," she interrupted. "Oblige me by taking it +now." + +He saw that she was somewhat agitated, and knew that she feared that the +withdrawal of the gift to the Seminary might have wounded him. This was +her way of curing such wounds. It would be ungracious to refuse the +cheque, yet even as he looked at it, a strange foreboding was upon him. + +He sat down saying he would prefer to give her a receipt as trustee. "As +you say, we must arrange as to details. Meanwhile, I suggest a portion +of the sum for the Missionary Fund----" + +"Not one penny of it," she answered with energy. + +"Do you object to the conversion of the heathen?" he asked surprised. + +"I do," was her emphatic answer. "Leave them alone. I suppose there are +among them some that look with hope beyond the grave. I will not be an +instrument to destroy that hope." + +He jumped at once to the conclusion that she had been reading some of +the frothy and ill-considered articles of the secular press in regard to +the Hampton-Brigston controversy, and again the suspicion arose in his +mind that Natalie was influenced by the wretched diatribes of the +newspapers. + +"I should fail in my duty as a Christian, Mrs. Joe," he said coldly, "if +I made no effort to disabuse your mind of prejudice. Your capacity to +aid a noble cause is so great----" + +"God knows," she interrupted earnestly, "I desire to use that capacity +for good. I have done grievous harm hitherto." + +"I do not understand." + +"Leonard, look at this. It is a fair statement. I know it because I have +tested every line of it in the Seminary Library. Can I give money to +bring tidings of their eternal damnation to the heathen? They are +happier without such knowledge." + +He took from her hand a cutting from a newspaper. It was an attack on +his theology: "As a mitigation of the misery which flows from the +Westminster Confession," wrote the journalist, "probation after death +has been suggested by weaklings. We know how that suggestion has been +received. In June, 1893, the General Assembly of the Church convicted +Dr. Briggs, its author, of heresy, and stigmatized sanctification after +death as 'in direct conflict with the plain teachings of the Divine +Word, and the utterances of the Standards of our Church'; a deliverance +which consigns to hell myriads of Jews, Mohammedans and honest doubters +of Christendom--all to be added to the number of heathen in hell. +Concerning these last, various computations have been made by +theologians of a mathematical turn; the American Board estimates that +five hundred millions go to hell every thirty years, or as Dr. Skinner +has it, thirty-seven thousand millions since the Christian era. Dr. +Hodge states that none escape. The last-named learned commentator on the +Confession of Faith is even hopeless as to Christian infants, concerning +whom he says, 'It is certainly revealed that none, either adult or +infant, are saved, except by special election,' and that it is not +'positively revealed that all infants are elect.'" + +The article proceeded to argue that, if all this were true (which the +writer denied), to impart the knowledge to the heathen would be cruel, +and that if it were not true, so much the less should lives and money be +spent in the dissemination of false views of God's mercy and justice. + +"Beyond the fact that the writer is thoroughly illogical, slipshod and +evidently malicious, there is no fault to be found with his statements," +observed Leonard, as he returned the cutting to the lady. + +"Leonard, my conscience will not permit me to disseminate a faith which +knows no mercy." + +He respected Mrs. Joe; he could even sympathize with her views, though, +regarding her as a child in doctrine, he did not think it worth while to +attempt to explain to her the enlightening and consolatory effect of the +"high mysteries," which are to be handled "with especial care." "Let the +matter rest awhile," he said. "I will arrange as to the hospital and for +a donation to the blind asylum. We can agree as to the distribution of +the rest of the fund later. You will not always be so hard on Hampton. +Theology is not learned in a day, Mrs. Joe, and, you will excuse me for +saying it, you have not given as much thought to the matter as some +others." + +"I am not foolish enough to pretend to a knowledge of theology. That +would be as absurd as the exhibition presented by men who pass years in +striving to reconcile eternal damnation and common justice." Having +fired this shot, the lady took her departure. + +The door had scarce closed upon her when Leonard called Natalie. An +impression, revived by his visitor and her newspaper cutting, that his +wife's attitude had its inspiration in the empty criticisms of the +press, had aroused his anger. He resolved that the present mode of +living should terminate. He had rights, God-given, as well as by the +laws of men; he would enforce them if he must. + +In their intercourse recently, Leonard had refrained from harshness, but +he had been unable to conceal a resentment, hourly growing in strength; +his manner had been hard and sullen. Without exhibiting actual +discourtesy he had shown plainly enough that he preferred to be alone, +and, except when it was inevitable, husband and wife had hardly met or +spoken together for days. + +Hence, when Natalie heard him call, a flush, born partly of +apprehension, partly of hope, suffused her cheek. She came toward him, +smiling and rosy, a vision of radiant loveliness. The pleading +tenderness of her eyes was answered by the wolfish gleam of a gaze that +arrested her steps. He seized her in his arms, clasping the lithe body +in a clutch of fury, kissing her red lips and clinging to their +sweetness with a ferocity that terrified her. In this shameful embrace +they wrestled a moment until the man's violence enfeebled himself. She +broke from him, standing before him an image of outraged modesty, +panting, indignant and bewildered. + +"Leonard!" + +He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His own +self-respect was shocked. He was humiliated, and his shame increased his +resentment. + +"What is it?" she asked, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder, and +noting that he shuddered at the touch. + +"What is it?" he repeated. For a moment a fury to strike her possessed +him. By an effort he calmed himself. + +"Natalie," he said, in a slow, measured tone, "do you regard me as your +husband?" + +"You know I do, Leonard." + +He sighed despairingly. How was he to bring a knowledge of facts to +this woman incapable of comprehending them, or what they signified for +him? + +"Natalie," he said, and now he took her hand in his, noting its cool +freshness again his own hot palm. "We cannot live thus; we are married. +We must be husband and wife." + +"You dare not create victims of hell," she whispered. + +"Natalie, you would impiously abrogate God's holy ordinance. Marriage is +enjoined by Scripture. Sin of the most heinous character is born of +neglect of this ordinance of God." + +"Leonard, Leonard," she cried, "you can have no assurance that your +children will be saved. Only the elect." + +"All, dying in infancy are elect," he answered impatiently. "That is the +universal belief of to-day." + +She grew very white as she looked at him; her eyes were big with horror. +"Do you mean," she asked hoarsely, "that we should murder our babies?" + +"Murder!" he exclaimed, amazed. + +"Since only infants are certainly saved----" + +He burst into a discordant laugh. "Natalie," he said, "as a reasoner you +would do credit to Brigston." + +"I can see no other way," she said after a pause. "My reasoning may be +defective, but you do not show me its defects. Surely you believe the +Confession and the catechisms?" + +"Every line of either," he answered defiantly and in anger. Had he not +labored night and day for a year past to demonstrate the truth of the +"Standards"? + +"Then," she answered sadly, "you have no right to become a father. +Fathers and mothers are instruments of the devil. According to your +belief, no sin can compare with the sin of bringing forth a creature so +offensive to God that it must suffer eternal punishment. You may believe +that you and I are both to dwell together in hell. If that be our fate +we must submit. But our children, Leonard! Shall we earn their hatred in +life, and watch their torments in unquenchable fires?" + +"Do you compare yourself and me, and children born of us, to the +depraved mass of humanity? Have you no assurance of God's gracious +mercy?" + +"God's gracious mercy!" she repeated. "God's gracious mercy!" + +"Natalie," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly. "You who but +a short time since had no religion, surely you will concede that I know +something of that which has been the study of my life. I tell you that +your reasoning is frantic nonsense; it would be blasphemous if it were +not for your ignorance." + +"You believe the Confession true--every line. I have studied it; I have +studied your book. Prior to that I had spent a whole day, in this very +room, reading----" + +He laughed, but as before there was no mirth in the laugh. "A whole +day," he said, "and this profound research enables you to contend with +me in a science that I have studied all my life." + +"On that day," she answered, shuddering, "the fires of hell blazed +before my eyes and I heard the wails of damned souls. In a day much may +be learned. If what I then saw be true--I do not know--you say it is; +you say hell is----" + +"And say it again," he interrupted. "If I had never known it before, I +would know it now." + +"Then, Leonard, you must justify me. Since God cannot save the +innocent----" + +"He punishes the guilty only." + +"Having himself decreed their guilt! In the face of that decree there is +no human guilt. Even marriage, that most hideous of all crimes, does not +merit endless suffering----" + +"You insist that all are damned; you rave. Nobody asserts that all are +damned." + +"'He hath chosen some to eternal life and foreordained the rest to +dishonor and wrath.' Yet if there were but a single soul to suffer; if +but one solitary creature of all the millions of men were doomed to +dwell in hell forever--the knowledge that your child, Leonard, might be +that lonely one--surely such knowledge----" + +He ground his teeth. She drew texts from the source he had declared to +be the living truth. He had no answer; there was no answer. + +"Leave me," he whispered, in a tone that evidenced his fury better than +a roar of rage. Again he hid his face in his hands. She often turned to +look at him as she slowly withdrew, but he did not raise his head. + +He wrestled fiercely with his emotions and with the problem that fate +had raised. At times rage consumed his soul, and his thoughts rioted in +brutal instigation, which even then he feared, and of which he was +ashamed. At moments he hated, at moments he loved, but hating or loving, +the seductive charms of the woman swayed before his eyes, mocking him as +the mirage mocks the fainting pilgrim. Hours passed and he remained in +the same attitude, striving to estimate the situation correctly, so that +he could evolve a remedy. He could not deny her reasoning; he would not +give up his faith. His mind, rigid from the training to which it had +been subjected, was incapable of readily admitting new theories; and his +best nourished and most vigorous attribute was involved. Whether his +integrity could be bent or not, it was certain that his vanity would not +submit. No! He would not deny his faith. He would enforce his rights. + +But not without further effort at persuasion. He made a heroic and +worthy resolve. He would be patient still, meanwhile using every gentle +measure. He would enlist Mrs. Joe in his cause. She was a matron, shrewd +and too well balanced to allow religious notions to carry her to +fanatical extremes; and she did not hold his own views, apparently not +even as to eternal punishment. Perhaps she would convince Natalie that +there was no hell. It would be a lie, but better that his wife believe a +lie than that hell reign in his house and in his bosom. + +At the dinner hour the maid handed her mistress a note. It ran thus: + + "Dear Natalie--I have decided to leave home for a little time. + I think we are better apart. If you will open your heart to + Mrs. Joe she will explain that which you and I cannot discuss. + I learn that you are in your own room, and think it better not + to disturb you. Good-bye, for a little time. It may be that I + shall not write. + + "LEONARD." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +A PÆAN OF VICTORY HYMNED IN HELL. + + +On the day following that upon which Leonard and Natalie had last met in +Leonard's study, there were two women in a room of a shabby New York +house, evidently once a worthy residence, but now sadly fallen from that +estate. + +One of the two, half dressed, with a good deal of tarnished lace +decorating such clothing as she had on, sat on the bed in an easy +attitude, careless as to the display of a handsome person. Dark, +heavy-browed, her first youth past, her haggard face was redeemed by +deep, soft eyes, that now, however, from beneath their long lashes, +looked out upon the face of the other woman with suspicious wariness. + +This one, overfed, coarse, vile to look upon, with the face of a painted +gargoyle, red and mottled, garishly dressed in a loose gown, stood with +arms akimbo, her little eyes bent wickedly upon the woman on the bed. + +"Ten days' board," croaked the fat one. "Ten days." + +"Ten weeks, for all I care," was the reply. + +The fat creature wheezed and snorted; she half lifted her great red hand +as if to administer a blow. + +"Try it," said the other, "and I'll stick this into you," holding +threateningly the blade of a pair of scissors. + +The fat one recoiled; there was enough recklessness in the eyes of the +woman with the scissors to justify the movement. "Now, now, Frenchy," +she remonstrated, "you won't be a fool. Possy bate, eh?" + +"_Pas si bête_," laughed the other grimly. "Try it and see!" + +"You know," said the rubicund one, "this ain't white, Berthe. Whose +fault is it if you've no money?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed Berthe. "You think me of your kind. I'm a lady; I was a +fool to come here." + +"Sure, you're a lady; and for that very reason ought to make a mint of +money. I'll tell you what's the matter with you, Berthe--you're a mule. +I swear," she exclaimed, suddenly conscious of wrong, "my boarders is +the bane of my life. Mules--but there, nobody'd believe what I've +borne." + +"_Malheureuse!_" sneered Berthe. + +"I tell you, missy, girls don't talk that way to me!" exclaimed the +red-gowned dame, perhaps suspecting unseemly profanity veiled in a +foreign tongue. + +"I don't want to talk any way to you. Get out," replied Berthe. + +"And the board bill?" + +"I've had nothing to eat for two days." + +"And won't have as long as you're a mule. If you have no money by this +time to-morrow, out you go, and without your trunk; so Frenchy," +concluded the woman, changing her tone to persuasion, "be reasonable. +You shall have dinner if you'll promise to go out afterward. Think it +over," and she waddled off. + +Berthe lay back upon the pillow, her long arms stretched above her head, +and thought it over. + +She had left Mrs. Leon long ago, and since then her steps had been +downward. For awhile a nursery governess, which, being amply capable, +she might have long remained had it not been for her eyes. She was not +altogether conscious of the capacity of her eyes, and was long innocent +of the knowledge of the strife and hatred they had wrought in the family +in which she served. Maltreated by an infuriated mistress, she had +avenged herself amply, living for months in luxury, and on the money and +caresses legally belonging to the other. But she had never cared for her +sinner, and he had been glad to creep back to that which he had +dishonored, not forgiven, but accepted as a hard necessity. Her luxuries +and her money were soon spent--as for the rest, it is a dark tale that +she recalls, lying there majestic, with her long arms above her black +head and her dark eyes brooding. + +The present was a problem. The move to this house was toward a deeper +degradation than any she had known, and she recoiled from its demands. +She knew its probable end, too. She was shrewd, dominant if she chose to +be; in short, no fool. She could rise to prosperity and become like the +gargoyle, but the prospect sickened her. All the inmates of the house +were to her abhorrent, but the gargoyle was a loathsome, soulless, +pitiless beast, only not a fool. The others were fools, and she knew, +feeling the sparks of humanity within her, that she must even be a fool +rather than a beast. And the end of the fool was misery, from which +there was but one escape. + +She was hungry. It was true that, except as to some slices of bread, +smuggled to her by soft-hearted ones, she had eaten nothing for two +days. She had long ago pawned her articles of jewelry. Her clothes were +in the clutch of the beast. She would have to apply to her for garments +for the street. She must surrender. + +So she asked for her clothes and her dinner. The beast was gracious, but +chary as to giving too many garments. The truth was, the beast hoped her +boarder would not return. She had the trunk--she was sick of the mule. + +Berthe wandered toward the lower part of the city. Plainly dressed, her +carriage dignified, she was not molested, nor did she cast her eyes upon +any passer-by. She walked straight on, yet not rapidly, for there was no +purpose in her walk. Useless to seek that man upon whose wife she had +avenged herself; he had been hurried off to do penance in the country; +even if he had returned, she knew nothing of his present abode. + +Mrs. Leon was a dweller in hotels, and at this season, not in town. +Besides, Mrs. Leon could not be ignorant of what had been accomplished +by the nursery governess she had herself recommended. + +She wished now, for in truth, as she walked on, terror of possible +starvation began to haunt her, that she had carried out an often +neglected impulse to write to a man she knew, and who she believed could +help her. She would have done so before this, but the man's wife was a +friend of Mrs. Leon. This recollection had prevented her addressing him. +Yet she knew he would have helped her. He was young, he was kind. Ah! he +was adorable. + +So she walked on, thinking of that adorable man, forgetting her fear of +starvation. He had kissed her, or rather, and she smiled as she +corrected herself, she had kissed him. He had been helpless. The +innocent! + +By this time she was in Fourteenth Street. A man seeing the smile upon +her lips, stood in her path and addressed her. She moved aside and +walked on; the smile had been born of a memory sweet to her. The man +looked after her, astonished at the majestic ignoring of himself. + +Suddenly the woman stopped, as if struck. Then she started, walking +quickly, and entered a brilliantly lighted resort. + + * * * * * + +Leonard had passed a sleepless night in the train. In New York he went +to a hotel which he had never before frequented. He desired to be alone. +He had left home to think, not to seek acquaintance or distraction. + +And he thought, walking the streets of the great city until he was +footsore, and the more he thought, the less capable was he of reasoning, +the more weary he grew of thought; finally, striding onward in a dream +of incoherent fancies, that were not thoughts, but impotent efforts of a +tired brain. All day long there swayed before his eyes visions inspired +by objects seen but not noted and most incongruous. The passing glance +upon a billboard, gay with motley figures, gave birth to a picture of +living damsels, languishing in postures of inviting loveliness. He saw +no stony streets, no squalid scenes, but wandered in a Moslem heaven in +whose crystal streams Naiads bathed fair round limbs or sported in +wanton frolic in silvery cascades, anon decking with lilies the roseate +beauties of their queen. He took no heed of time or place, pacing street +after street, along the wharves, seeing neither ship nor dray; in the +Hebrew crowd of the East Side, noting nothing of the soft-eyed men with +dirty beards, nor the women wearing wigs of jute, nor the children +dancing in the streets to hand-organs, nor any of the sights of that +crowded foreign city, full of strange interest. Of the things before his +eyes he saw nothing; nor could he, being entranced by raptures which had +tried the souls of saints a thousand years ago! + +At ten o'clock at night, having eaten nothing since an early and +neglected breakfast, he stood in the street, conscious that he must eat +or faint. He entered a brilliantly lighted room where there were tables, +but which was nearly empty. + +Back of the room he saw another filled with people, decked with palms +and artificial grottoes. He entered and sat down at the first unoccupied +table. + +"Bring me a sandwich," he said to the waiter, "and a drink." + +The sandwich was brought and the drink. The latter Leonard supposed was +wine. He remembered that he had scruples against wine-drinking; had, in +fact, never tasted wine. He was too tired to care much for scruples, and +besides, he was faint, and even his scruples permitted wine in case of +illness. He swallowed the liquor, which was whiskey, at one gulp, and +commenced to eat ravenously. + +He ordered another sandwich and another drink, which was brought, this +time with a carafe of water in addition. He drank greedily of the water, +reserving his liquor, and, as ravenously as before, consumed his second +sandwich. + +Then he looked about him with more interest in his surroundings than he +had known during all that day. He felt comfortable, happy in fact. He +stretched out his legs and sipped his liquor, this time noting the +strength of the beverage, which made him cough and brought the tears to +his eyes, causing a woman to smile slyly. He smiled in return, then +looked quickly away, abashed at his own temerity in thus answering the +involuntary expression of a strange lady. This, as he looked about him, +he thought must be one of those German beer-gardens he had heard about, +but in this country had never seen. Evidently the people did not bring +their children. That was well. Beer-drinking was a bad example for +children. The women looked tired, he thought, though some were very +rosy, remarkably so, and all were tawdry. The men were not a +nice-looking set, though there were exceptions. Many were not much more +than boys, and these affected brilliant, if somewhat dirty, neckwear. +There were things about this place that offended him; principally, the +tone of the men. They lolled a good deal and smoked in the women's +faces; that was German, he supposed. The women, of whom a number were +alone, were better behaved. He noticed a waiter order one to leave the +place; that was singular, especially as she had slunk in very quietly +and had seemed very humble. Suddenly the great orchestrion commenced to +squeal and bang and clash, and soon the heads of the people were +strangely bobbing, keeping time; now the strains grew soft and +plaintive; a profound sadness crept over him as he listened to what +seemed the requiem of a dying soul. He felt the tears rising in his +eyes. + +For a long time he had been eagerly watched by a woman. Berthe could not +be sure if this were indeed the man she knew. What could he be doing +here? Half hidden behind a curtain which draped a huge column, she +watched the heaving breast of the man. Suddenly, she saw his head fall +forward, smashing a tumbler, and a cry of agony broke from him. +"Natalie, Natalie!" + +It might have been the last despairing wail of the soul doomed +thenceforward to darkness, whose requiem he had heard. To the obscene +observers and the superintendent of the place it was the cry of a +drunken man, who had no business there. + +There was no hubbub. The habitués of the place comprehended that nothing +of that sort was allowed. The man was quickly hustled into the front +room by the manager. + +"Get his hat," said this personage to a waiter. "Has he paid his bill?" +he questioned as the man brought the hat. + +"Yes, except the broken glass." + +"Damn the glass!" replied the manager, who desired to get rid of the +drunkard. "Come, young fellow, steady on your pins now and be off." + +A woman slipped her arm under Leonard's. "I will take care of him," she +said. + +The manager looked at the pair as they made their way toward the street. +"Do you know her?" he asked of an employee who had witnessed the +departure. + +"She's not a regular, sure." + +"Nor he. Well, it's not our affair," and the manager returned to his +duties. + +The two wandered off, the man's unsteady steps supported tenderly by the +woman. When the sun rose, his head rested on her bosom and her lips +hovered lovingly above his own, and the hum of the waking city, borne to +his ears, may, to him, have been the distant harmony of a pæan of +victory hymned in hell. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +A DELECTABLE DISCUSSION, IN WHICH A SHAKSPERIAN MATRON IS ROUTED. + + +Natalie Claghorn had always nourished a sentiment, which with many is a +conviction, with most a hope, that man is something more than the futile +hero of a sorry comedy--not made to live merely that he may die. Hence, +religion had been a need of her being, and, though unconsciously, she +had developed a creed of her own, vague, no doubt, from the positive +standpoint, but one which excluded those essential elements of the faith +of her husband, Hell and the Devil; grim inventions these which, while +imbibing wisdom at the paternal knee, she had learned were mere memories +of ancient Oriental mythologies. This view, in so far as she had given +the matter any thought, she had supposed the view commonly held, and +universally held among the cultured. Recently, indeed, there had been a +moment in which even with her bodily eyes she had, as she had then +believed, beheld the terrors and the torments of the damned; but as many +men and women, who believe not in ghosts, have nevertheless seen these +dwellers of the shades, and yet in less receptive phases of the mind +have been able to dismiss their visitants to the shadows from which they +were evoked, so Natalie had been able to discard belief in the reality +of her vision. Nevertheless, though incredulous, he who has seen a ghost +remains impressed, and the memory of her experience naturally recurred +with her theological studies, serving to emphasize the horrible, rather +than the absurd, aspect of her acquirements. + +Her desire to know had been honest, and she imputed honesty to others; +hence, when Leonard, with pen and voice, asseverated his belief in a +creed which must render paternity impossible to any being with a +conscience, she had been confounded by the attitude he presented. She +was not aware that between her husband and herself the sources of +sympathy had always been shallow, and she was quite as ignorant of +theological frenzy as she was of the knowledge of masculine passion. She +had loved him; and she had loved Mrs. Joe, Paula, the Marquise, her maid +Berthe; in fact, she had loved, and still loved, humanity, as far as she +knew it, and it was thus that she had loved her husband, though, +doubtless, in his case, this gentle flame had burned with more intensity +than in others. + +Though grieved that Leonard had left her without saying good-bye, yet +she felt that he had acted wisely, in that he had given her time to +think without the disturbing sense of his presence in his repellant +mood. And during this period an incident occurred which aided her in +finding the only solution of the problems which vexed her. + +It was not to be expected of the Hampton matrons that they continue +their tolerant attitude, with regard to Mrs. Leonard Claghorn. Her +continued languid health after the birth of her child, the subsequent +bereavement and absence, these had afforded an excuse for neglect; but +now there was solicitude, and in a certain circle of dames, which met +every fortnight to discuss Shakspere, but whereat other subjects, as +possessing more of novelty, were occasionally considered, some rather +severe strictures were made, in reference to Professor Claghorn's +apparent inability to convert his wife--he who had so audaciously, if +not successfully, coped with Brigston. + +"Brilliancy is less effective than earnestness," opined Mrs. Waring, +wife of Professor Waring, whose forte was Hebrew, and who was noted for +great erudition, a large family and a feeble intellect. + +"In the long run, no doubt," assented Mrs. Professor Flint. "But surely, +she is not really unconverted!" + +"She certainly hides her light. There are times--I hope I am not +uncharitable--when I wonder, suppose she were a Jesuit!" + +"Awful! She's French; her mother was noble--of the old nobility--and the +old nobility are all Jesuits." + +"And a Jesuit will stick at nothing in the way of deception. It's a +terrible possibility!" + +Natalie found apologists, notably Mrs. Tremaine, who maintained that +there were no female Jesuits, and who defended the absent, partly +because she was a spirited and generous woman, partly because, at this +particular period, she experienced an unusually distinct impression of +her own importance by reason of an acknowledged claim to the admiration +of the other Shaksperians. Even Mrs. Waring, the mother of ten, was +inclined to look with indulgence, if not with envy, upon this champion, +though she whispered to Mrs. Flint that "after a half dozen, Mary +Tremaine would change her note." + +However that may be, Mrs. Tremaine's note remained on this occasion +triumphant, and she glowed with victory, and also with good intentions; +for she resolved to warn Natalie that the gossips were preparing for a +feast, "and," said the lady to herself, "it must be stopped; never allow +a tiger a taste of blood," which mental exclamation clearly indicates +the exaltation of the lady's spirit. + +In this spirit, as soon as the Shaksperian séance was over, she started +for the Morley mansion, full of excellent intentions and the proud +possessor of a secret already known to the wives of all the professors +of the Seminary, except Natalie; and which, if confided to the latter, +would indicate that friendly feeling by which she was really actuated, +and thus pave the way to the warning she wished to give. She was also +impelled by the pardonable desire to further impart the information +already widely diffused; and which, in fact, could not remain much +longer a secret, unless the complacent lady decided on complete +seclusion for some months. + +"Yes," she said, "I suppose it will be noticeable soon. Professor +Tremaine is so proud; he actually struts. He hopes for a boy." + +"Unfortunate woman!" exclaimed Natalie. "How can you smile?" + +"Dear Mrs. Claghorn, I forgot your own recent loss. Believe me, +time----" + +"But, have I understood? You hope for a baby--you a Christian wife?" + +"Why not I--a Christian wife, as you say?" was the answer of the +visitor, who was both shocked and puzzled by the expression of her +hostess. + +"I do not understand," exclaimed Natalie hopelessly; then suddenly: "How +can you dare? Have you no compassion, no fear? You can smile, believing +that an awful calamity hangs over you!" + +"Awful calamity!" echoed the bewildered visitor, perhaps a little +alarmed by the speaker's energy. + +"Is it not? Have I understood aright? Are you going to have a baby?" + +"I have said so. Why the fact should affect you so strangely is a +mystery to me." + +"Do you believe this book?" and Natalie seized the well-known volume +with its blue cover. + +"Certainly, I believe the Confession." + +"And your husband?" + +"Does he not teach it?" + +"And believing that this book is true, knowing that the furnaces of hell +are choked with sinners--knowing this, you and your husband welcome the +birth of a human being! God help me, and you, Mrs. Tremaine, forgive me, +but I cannot understand these things. Why! you believe that your baby +may be damned!" + +"How dare you say such things? My child will not be damned. Ah! You poor +woman, I see. You have brooded over your own baby's death, and have been +dwelling on horrors. I have heard of such cases. Dear Mrs. Claghorn, +dismiss such dreadful folly from your mind. Babies are not damned; +nobody has believed that for years." + +"_I_ do not fear for my child, nor for yours. But you--you cannot be +sure he will die. He may grow up--what then?" + +"Then he must take his chance," said the would-be mother, though her +face grew white. "We must all trust in God's grace." + +"But he lends His grace to his Elect only. Unless your infant was chosen +from before creation, he _must_ be damned. You say this book is true, +and yet you dare to have a child who may burn in hell! How can you +commit such wickedness?" In her energy Natalie had arisen, and now stood +before the unhappy matron in what to her seemed a threatening attitude. + +"I--I--do not comprehend," she faltered. "You have no right to speak +thus to me." + +"No right! Have I not the right of humanity, the right of a +child-bearing woman?" + +"But----" + +"I had some excuse, I did not know. But you knew--and yet you dared!" + +"I didn't," whimpered the lady. "It was the Professor--it was God's +work. You talk horribly." + +"God's work! And you lend yourself to God's work! You could have +died--anything, rather than be an instrument of wickedness in God's +hands!" + +Mrs. Tremaine breathed a great sigh of relief when she found herself +safely on the outside of the Morley mansion. She sat for awhile on a +bench in the Square, and when she had in part recovered her equanimity, +she went slowly homeward, pondering over the difficulties which present +themselves to those who try to do good in secret. + +Yet she had done good; for when Natalie beheld this matron in all the +pride and joy of approaching maternity, she saw in the spectacle a +living denial of the frightful dogma which, if believed, must have +turned the woman's triumph to despair. The orthodox lady served to +demonstrate the fact that the upholders of hell do not believe in hell; +for the conclusion to which Natalie had arrived was sound: The woman +that believes in hell dare not bear a child. + +Leonard's continuing absence afforded time for contemplation of this +discovery and its consequences; among others the gradual conviction +which subjected Leonard, with thousands of others, to the accusation of +maintaining palpable falsehood as the living truth. No other conclusion +was possible in the face of the fact that humanity can judge only by the +aid of human faculties, and that these must, perforce, pronounce eternal +punishment incompatible with justice, and preordination to everlasting +misery as impossible to a God of mercy. Her training made it difficult +for her to understand the palliation of the offense of those who +maintained the paradoxes which denied their actions. She was not aware +that the minds of such as Leonard had, from infancy, been receptacles +into which had been emptied all the follies bred from the meditations of +those who profess the mission of being interpreters of Omniscience; nor +could she fairly estimate the partisan rage which carried such men, +engaged in controversy, even beyond their convictions. She did, however, +gather some comprehension of these extenuating forces from the further +researches offered by Leonard's table, on which were strewn numerous +pamphlets referring to the late theological war. The tone of rancor +which pervaded the effusions of the religious antagonists was repellant, +but she was shrewd enough to see in so much sound and fury evidences of +weakness; and when she came to the theologian who lauded the "beautiful +faith" of that Christian father who demolished his pagan adversary with +the words, "I believe, _because_ it is impossible," she closed the book, +and thenceforth avoided further contemplation of the high mysteries of +theology. + +She could not but condemn Leonard, though she would not dwell upon the +thought. To her, as to Dr. Stanley, belief in the impossible was +impossible, and, therefore, pretense of such belief dishonest; yet, +since these pretenders were not otherwise dishonest, there must be some +ground for their attitude, which to her must remain a mystery, but which +ought to cause her to hesitate in judging. So, she would not blame +Leonard; she perceived now, that her own conduct merited reproach. She +was ignorant of her own cruelty and her own absurdity, and would have +resented those terms as applied to her attitude; but she acknowledged +with sorrow that she had not been kind, and for her unkindness she +craved forgiveness. + +Very early one morning she started to walk to the cemetery, going by way +of the shore, and glorying in the grandeur of the ocean and the breeze +that came, health-laden, from its bosom. She stood and looked upon the +broad expanse of blue, recalling the day when Leonard had plunged into +the raging waters to rescue the boy. That effort had been in vain, as to +its intended object, but had it never been made she would not be walking +here a wife. She had loved him before, but not with a love that would +have urged her to grant him the boon of kisses; but, fresh from that +brave deed he was a hero, had taken the hero's meed from her lips, and +in that act had sealed the mastery which his courage had won. She gazed +long upon the waters, listening to the surge and noting the glint of the +sun, tinting with rose the billows rolling toward her. She sighed and, +pressing her lips together, turned her back upon the waves and hurried +on. It was as though she had resolved not to see some fair vision +suggested by the rose-tint in the feathery edging of the billows. + +When she entered the beautiful cemetery the birds were chirping in the +trees, only their joyous trills breaking the silence of the city of the +dead. She sat down beside the grave of her boy. + +And here, recalling her recent thoughts and her condemnation of others +who were dishonest in their attitude toward God, she saw the need of +honesty for herself in all things. If there were facts in her life which +she had been willing to ignore, she must look them in the face and deal +with them as best she might, being honest always. If, in marrying +Leonard, she had striven to escape the longing for a love denied her, +and in so doing had cheated her husband, she must admit her fault and +resolve to make every reparation in her power. If she had chosen to +believe that she had craved religion, and in her husband had seen its +embodiment, while in truth she had craved an earthly love, and had in +marriage weakly sought refuge from her shame, she must even admit her +fault and do what might be in her power to avert its consequences. Not +in the futile attempt to deny hearing to her conscience, to murder her +reason, but in every wifely allegiance. Thus far she had wofully failed +in such allegiance. Even before the last sad breach between her husband +and herself she had allowed estrangement to come between them, and had +so exclusively devoted herself to her child that Leonard had been +secondary. It was true that she had not consciously intended this, but +she had been willing that it be so. Her consciousness of wrong warmed +her heart toward her absent husband, and filled it with longing to +reconsecrate herself to him. He would surely come to-day! As she sped +homeward she was more and more persuaded of it, and, finally, believed +that on her arrival she would find him waiting for her. As she neared +the house she trembled with expectation; she longed to clasp her arms +about his neck and falter her prayer for pardon, and assure him of her +love. There should be no shadows between them in future. She had dared +to look truth in the face, and, lo! it was no longer truth. All the +foolish, sinful longings of the past, persistent because she had refused +to recognize them, had been dissipated by the light of day. The present +moment was to live forever. Henceforth, Leonard, and only he, should +dwell in her heart of hearts. + +In her agitation she fumbled at the door-lock, then desisted, for from +the hallway she heard the firm step of a man coming to the door. Her +heart beat wildly; another moment and she would be forgiven. + +The door was suddenly opened. With a glad cry Natalie spread wide her +own, and in the same instant was clasped in the arms of Mark Claghorn. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +WHEN MANHOOD IS LOST WOMAN'S TIME IS COME. + + +In the misery of awakening to a consciousness of existing facts, Leonard +could see no possibility of extrication from the bog of degradation into +which he had fallen. With excellent intentions on the part of his +pastors and masters, he had been trained to dishonest depreciation of +his own strength, and he was now without confidence or courage. His days +had been without guile, and the unaccustomed aspect of guilt overwhelmed +him with hopeless terror. The precepts instilled from infancy thundered +direful threats, dwelling lingeringly on the curses of Omnipotence; and +in the moment of the acquirement of the dread knowledge that he had been +self-deceived, that the Grace of God had not been his, that he, like +other doomed and defrauded sinners, had mistaken those "common +operations of the spirit," that even non-elect may have, for the +effectual call addressed only to the few chosen from eternity, and which +to all others is a monstrous mockery--in the moment of this awful +revelation he felt all the suffocating horror of that which he had +taught as truth: that for the weak there is no Father, no path but the +path of evil. + +The woman looked upon the exhibition of misery thus presented with +compassion tinged with scorn, yet with bewilderment. She had never seen +a sinner like this before; but instinctively she felt that when manhood +is lost woman's time has come. + +"_Voyons, chéri_," she said, "what is it all about?" and she drew his +head to her bosom. + +He grasped at the offered sympathy as a starving man may grasp a loaf. +The picture he presented was not adorable, but there was truth in it, +if, also, some unconscious comedy; and her compassion was not without +sincerity, though his broken story was of less interest to her than the +simplicity of the narrator. She felt that she had been fashioned fit +for this man's needs; and while she soothed him, his spirits rose a +little, and he experienced a sort of satisfaction that, since he had +taken this direction, he had gone amazingly far. See, now, what Natalie +had done! + +They rescued Berthe's clothes and left the boarding-house, and were soon +quartered in a small French hotel, bathed and well dressed. The +surroundings were cheerful; the lunch table, with its bright glassware +and silver, white napery and bottle of champagne in its bucket of ice, +was inviting; the woman was gay, yet still compassionate and tender. +With the first glass of wine Leonard felt actually happy; and as he sat +opposite the well-clad woman with the great dark eyes, now languid and +inviting, now bright with challenge, and listened to the prattle, which +women of her nation can make so engaging, he, looking back upon the past +week, was enraptured by the contrast. Of such as she really was he had +no perception; he could no more estimate her character than could the +veriest college freshman, weary with knowledge of the world. Her +brightness of intellect was apparent, and there was neither coarseness +nor ignorance of amenities in her bearing. She had said to the mistress +of the boarding-house that she was a "lady," and she fitted sufficiently +the ordinary acceptation of a much-abused term. She told her story (with +the essential suppressions and variations), and he saw in her one who +had suffered from the injustice of the world. She admitted being in the +last stress of poverty, and confessed to having suffered actual hunger, +thanking him, with the first sheen of tears in her eyes, for rescuing +her clothes from the clutches of the hawk landlady. + +All these confidences, sweetened by moderate draughts of champagne--for +Berthe preached moderation, and economy as well--insensibly disposed the +man to further confidences of his own, and she listened eagerly to the +tale, of which she had heard disjointed fragments in his first outbreak +of despair. + +"It is all plain, _chéri_" was her comment. "Mademoiselle--I mean your +wife--never loved you." + +"I know that," was the gloomy answer. + +"Ah, but why not? You so beautiful a man, so good!" and she knelt beside +him and put her arms about his neck. + +"So beautiful! That is a matter of taste. So good!" he sighed, but let +his head droop on her shoulder all the same. + +"Any woman must love you," she murmured. "But one thing could hinder." + +"And that thing?" + +"That she first loved another," she whispered. + +He was silent. + +"We all knew it in France," she said. + +"The Marquise?" he asked huskily. + +"The Marquise, assuredly. Why, we ran away from her because of it." + +"Tell me all you know," he said, after awhile. + +The woman's heart fluttered; here were her tools. She could keep him, +and she would. Kneeling thus beside him, her arms about him, her body +close to his, his cheek against her own, he was hers. No woman should +take him from her. Rights? Bah! Hers were the rights of conquest, and of +the fierce demands which bade her hold what she had gained. There were +no other rights. + +"She loved him always," she murmured. "It is all told in that." Yet she +told much more; of how the Marquise had always suspected, of wanderings +in Paris with no other chaperone than herself; on which occasions, +knowing what was expected of her, and unwilling to spoil the pretty game +she watched, she had discreetly remained as much as possible in the +background. "He was generous and gave me presents--but, _ciel_! Why +shouldn't he with a gold mine?" They had especially affected churches, +and picture galleries where they could sit in secluded nooks, and where +Natalie's attendant could easily lose herself temporarily. "The Marquise +raved furiously," added the narrator, "but she would have raved more +furiously still had she known all I knew." + +"She never loved me," faltered Leonard. + +"But I loved you the moment I saw you. It was hard to have you leave me +after that kiss. Tell me it was hard for you." + +"It was hard; better had I never left you." + +"And now you never will. You have made me love you; and I,--I have made +you love me; is it not so? Is it wicked? Ah, no; it is good, it is +good." + +To him who heard the murmured words and was enveloped in the tenderness +she shed upon him; who felt her lips upon his own, and who, in the +contact, found sweet content--to him, this was a foretaste of the life +that might be, if he had the courage to embrace it. He was like some +worn and weary pilgrim in arid sands who, visioning an oasis, lies him +down by a green brookside, rests in the fresh breezes, listens to the +rippling waters, sees their sparkle and inhales the fragrance of the +flowers, and so is lulled to fatal languor, unconscious that all is a +mere mirage. + +To her he was no mere wayside victim, but in his resemblance to him +whose picture she had held toward heaven in the church, a reminder of +the happy days when first she had known love. She longed desperately to +retain him, and though she feared the dark gulf of misery in which he +had found her, with him she would have even faced it again, rather than +safety with another; so that her cajolements had the grace of sincerity, +though the parting, which he knew must come, remained constantly the +dark background of the present. It may seem that to leave the woman +required little heroism; that whatever charms she might possess for him, +that those of dignity, of worthy citizenship, of respect, of all that +even worldly men hold dear, would allure him with greater power. All of +which is reasonable, and, no doubt, such considerations do often operate +in cases where discreet sinners, having sinned in secret, quietly emerge +from the bog of evil-doing, cleanse their garments and, animated by good +resolutions, go forth among their fellows, keeping their own counsel; +but these are sinners of experience. The innocent man, like the innocent +woman, falls far when he falls; such men sacrifice present respect and +hope for the future, choosing ruin; and while there are numerous roads +to that goal, the most frequented is that one where woman roams. + +But whatever heroism may have been necessary, this man possessed it. He +turned his face resolutely from the allurements of the present, and, if +trembling, faced the future. + +"It cannot be otherwise," he said, falteringly. "I do not leave you to +return to happiness. I might find that with you. I go because both for +you and for me it is right. We may have years of life before us; let us +use them for repentance. In this lies our only hope." + +"Do you know what my life must be?" + +"One of better deeds. It is not for me," he said, sorrowfully, "to try +to win you to high thoughts. That would seem impious, and would inspire +you with just contempt for me and for those teachings I have disgraced. +But I urge you to consider these things. Seek counsel; I can give you +the means; or, if you prefer, go to a priest of your own church." + +She smiled bitterly. Knowing his own deadly depression, he could read +her thoughts; he implored her not to despair, pointing out that that +which was a solemn obligation, her temporal welfare, would be surely +fulfilled by him. "Our unholy union," he said, with sad simplicity, +"entails upon me the duty of making due provision for you. This will be +a matter for immediate attention; promise me to remain quietly here +until you hear from me." + +And so it was arranged, he giving her money for present needs. He +watched her while she packed his valise, touched by wifely attentions, +the lack of which, he told himself, had long been a grievance, of which +now he knew the cause. He looked about him, noting the embellishments +which her taste and her training had enabled her to add to the room, +even in the short period of their occupancy, and the sense of a +justifying grievance grew stronger. + +"There's room for this," she said, holding up a bottle of champagne, the +last of a series, and unused because she had insisted upon moderation. +He watched her place it in the bag. He had resolved never again to drink +wine, but he would not refuse what she gave him, denying herself. + +They said good-bye. He left her, promising soon to see her, and in his +heart solemnly resolving that they should never meet again. The lie was +but one more added to his catalogue of sins, and had been necessary. As +to that provision for her needs, he would make it generously. He could +not as yet see how details were to be arranged, but for the present +there were other things to think of. A man cannot suddenly make the +acquaintance of himself without paying some attention to the stranger. + +He remained a day longer in the city, and then, absolutely unable to +bear solitude, and with a manful struggle to avoid returning to the +beckoning comfort he had left, he started on the dreaded journey +homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE. + + +As he left the train in the early morning and crossed the Square toward +his house he was, notwithstanding a half-defiant carriage, assumed to +hide the cringing of his heart, probably the most miserable man in +Hampton. He sat down upon the bench where he had rested after his first +meeting with Berthe and, recalling that meeting, remembered how he had +striven to give a jaunty trend to his thoughts, and had tried to +persuade himself that the kissing episode was but a venial misstep, +having indeed little of dignity, but even less of sin. Behold, now, to +what it had led him!--that deed in which he had actually gloried, seeing +himself, because of it, somewhat more a man of the world than was +suspected, with experiences concerning which honor bound him to secrecy +as it did men of experience; wherefore he had despised the blabbers of +his college days, who either kissed not at all, yet boasted of such +kissing, or, displaying equal ingenuousness and greater meanness, +bragged of actual kisses. He recalled all this with real sorrow, not +unmingled with contempt for the callow youth who had sat here indulging +in boyish fancies, the wickedness whereof was surpassed only by their +shallowness. It was then, he thought, that his unconscious yet +diabolical arts upon the woman, destined to be his victim, had +commenced. Though his present misery was as great as he could bear and +his penitence sincere, nevertheless, there was an underlying +consciousness, and pride in the fact, of more than ordinary fascinating +powers, in respect of women. She had loved him from the moment she had +seen him, and had loved him to her own destruction! Though he regarded +with horror that which he believed himself to have compassed, yet the +underlying complacency was there. All these years she had been faithful +to his memory. Alas for her weakness! alas for the fate which had made +him, in respect to her, a villain! He truly repented,--was he not bowed +to the ground in humiliation and sorrow for his sin? Yet, was he wholly +responsible, he who had, in ignorance, exercised seductive powers, +possessed in ignorance? + +The inner being of this man, of noble outward form, was not cast in +heroic mould, such moulds being seldom used in the fashioning of our +neighbors; yet he was no unusual product, being the inevitable result of +various influences, for most of which he was not responsible. An +idolized child, a boy of wondrous promise as of wondrous beauty, a youth +completely filling all promises of boyhood, early called to the service +of Heaven, and so, somewhat set apart and cherished with a care +befitting a sacred vessel, to be guarded from every rude touch lest its +perfection be endangered,--thus he had been fitted for the world. Every +natural healthy instinct had been bent and distorted by the loving hands +of ignorance, while equally natural impulses had been ignored as +unwholesome weeds, which would find no place in a nature dedicated and +cultivated for Heaven. He had been esteemed as somewhat higher than +ordinary humanity, while human vices had been nourished in him so that +they bore blossoms so fair to look upon that they were as virtues. His +innate vanity had been so fostered that it had become the central +product of his moral being, permeating every thought, mingled with every +act. His most patent and engaging graces had been developed by this +vice. His frankness, his amiability, his generosity, his mental +aptitude, were all means for winning the esteem he craved, and had been +employed, in fact, to that end. They were real virtues. He was in +goodness all he seemed to be. The kindness of heart for which he was +praised and loved, even this excellence aided in the nurture of that +self-complacency which led him to ascribe the woman's undoing to his +witchery, rather than to her willingness. + +As he raised his eyes and caught sight of his home, and knew that he +must enter the house, the subtle consolation which had formed the +undercurrent of his despondency was forgotten, or, perhaps, its utter +worthlessness for the moment recognized. The whole horrible load of +regret weighed again upon him, crushing his spirit. There was no comfort +now in any phase of his reflections. He had gone forth from the home of +his innocent boyhood, as of his worthy manhood, unhappy, indeed, but +claiming and receiving the respect of all his fellows. Now, he must +creep back, so vile a creature that he dreaded to meet the eyes even of +his servants. + +As to his wife, though he had left her without good-bye, and though +there had been estrangement between them, he knew that he must meet her +face to face, and while he dreaded the meeting, still he longed for it +and longed to throw himself upon his knees before her and confess. As to +that which had estranged them, it seemed a trifle to him now. Let her +have her will; if therein there was to be punishment for him, was he not +willing to do penance all his days? As to those confidences made by +Berthe, while he believed them, he believed only what he had been told. +As to seriously thinking of actual guilt in connection with Natalie, she +was too truly estimated by him, and he too truly innocent, still, to +harbor base suspicions. But he knew that she had not loved him, and in +the dismal oppression caused by his own misdeeds this conviction created +a distinct and sharp pain, and yet it had its own alleviation. He, too, +had something to forgive, and did forgive, even now, before forgiveness +had been granted him. Yes, he would meet her face to face, and there +should be repentance between them and, as each had done wrong, so each +would do all that could be done in reparation, and if the sacrifice she +had demanded of him be still required, he would make it. + +And thus, while Natalie, in the cemetery, had seen the way to +reconciliation with her husband, and had recognized that she had wronged +him, and in that recognition had found in her heart a greater love for +him than she had known before, so he with similar thoughts, though more +confusedly and with less honesty, though not consciously dishonest, +slowly made his way toward the house. He entered by means of his +latchkey, meeting nobody, and went at once to the library. It was still +early: doubtless Natalie was in her room. He was not sorry for a +respite. + +He was faint and felt the need of refreshment. No doubt, the maids were +about, so he went toward the bell, then drew back, recognizing in his +action his dread of meeting any occupant of the house. Then he +remembered that in his valise was a small bottle of champagne. He was +not sorry, now, for Berthe's foresight, and in his heart thanked her. He +recalled how pleasantly this wine had affected him, how it had given him +courage, and how his horrible depression had vanished under its +influence. Notwithstanding his resolve to resume his old practice of +abstinence in regard to wine, he was glad that he had this chance +bottle, for he had never needed courage more than now. He wished he had +some food, for he had eaten but little for many hours; the wine would +serve until he had the courage to ask for food. + +While he was opening his bottle the front-door bell rang. The library, +its doorway hung with heavy curtains, faced the entrance to the house. +Leonard, peeping between the curtains, saw Mark Claghorn admitted and +ushered by the servant into the drawing-room. + +The sight of Mark, whom he had supposed in Europe, aroused his anger. He +hated Mark as one who had gained a love that should have been his own. +Under the circumstances he was not sorry that his presence in the house +was unknown. Mark, who was noted as an early riser, had probably ridden +over from Stormpoint on some trifling errand, and, soon after Natalie +appeared, would doubtless leave the house. + +And so he waited, thirstily quaffing the champagne and wishing he had a +biscuit. He tried not to think of the visitor in the drawing-room, but +found that effort vain, thinking of him, in fact, with fast-rising +anger, until he was on the point of seeking the man to force a quarrel +on him which should banish the intruder from the house forever. + +He was arrested in this intention by hearing Mark emerge from the +drawing-room and walk quickly to the front door. Leonard peeped through +the curtains and saw his wife, with her arms outspread, fall upon Mark's +breast, and heard her cry aloud: + +"My darling, my darling, welcome home!" and with upturned face she drew +Mark's downward, kissing his lips as she had never kissed the watcher. + +Who staggered backward, sinking into a chair, dazed as by a blow. + +Her face had been illumined, glowing with happiness. Her dancing eyes, +her outspread arms, her lips upturned, her gladness unrestrained, so +impatient in her longing that she could not wait for greater privacy +than the hall--in these he had seen a woman never seen by him before. +This was Mark's welcome home. What was his to be? + +Great tears streamed down his face; of wounded vanity, of love and trust +betrayed, of growing fury. His moods followed fast one upon another. Now +sunk in profounder depths of sorrow than any yet sounded, now raging +with frantic lust for vengeance upon the woman and her lover. + +Even while chaotic fancies whirled in his brain he could hear the murmur +of their talk, ecstatic dalliance which he would interrupt. + +Yes, he would disconcert their cooing, cover the pair with humiliation, +eject the glib intruder and bring the woman to her knees. + +But he could not move. He was chained to his chair. A horrible +fluttering of his heart made him gasp for breath, his head fell back, +his face and lips were white. The want of food, the nervous depression, +the rage and exhaustion, all intensified by the sharp and unaccustomed +fillip of the wine, had done their work. At first it was fainting, then +came slumber. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +SHE CRIED ALOUD SHE WAS A GUILTY CREATURE. + + +For a moment Mark had yielded to the rapture of the first pure pressure +of lips he had ever known. From the window he had seen Natalie advancing +toward the house, and had involuntarily gone to meet her. The sight of +her had quickened his blood, but if, for an instant, he had reveled in +the bliss of the welcome she had granted him, almost in the same instant +he recognized and regretted that he had dishonored her in accepting +caresses not intended for him. + +He drew her somewhat hastily into the drawing-room. Before he could say +a word she had recognized him. + +"Mark," she exclaimed, amazed, and then a rosy blush spread over her +face. + +"I startled you," he said. "It was absurd in me, unpardonable." + +"I thought it was----" her voice faltered. + +"Leonard, of course. Now welcome me for myself," and he took her hand +and shook it warmly, after a proper, cousinly fashion, perhaps sadly +noting the contrast, but striving to shield her embarrassment. + +He succeeded, as far as appearances went. But both were conscious of +emotion, though each strove gallantly to hide it. + +"I am so surprised," she faltered. "You must have made a remarkable +passage. Your mother did not expect you yet. In fact, Paula----" + +"I took an earlier steamer than I had originally intended, and had a +quick passage besides." + +"How glad they must have been at Stormpoint!" + +"They seemed so. I arrived last night." + +"I am sorry Leonard is not home yet. I expected him this morning. He has +been in New York." + +"So the maid told me. Of course, I should not have disturbed you at +this hour had I been aware of his absence. I rode over, and knowing that +Leonard is, like myself, an early bird, thought I would say +good-morning." + +"I am very glad you did, Mark." + +"Yet, it is always foolish to run outside of conventional grooves. The +maid told me you were gone for a walk, and so I waited." + +"Which was right. I am glad you waited." + +Plainly she was uneasy and so, feeling rather foolish, he explained that +in order to fulfil the duty of breakfasting at Stormpoint he must be +going. Her suggestion that he remain and breakfast with her was made +rather faintly. "Good-bye, Natalie," he said. "Remember me to Leonard. +Next time I shall call in proper form." + +And so he rode away, watched a little while by her, who then went to her +own now belated breakfast. She sat at the table, eating hardly at all, +seemingly lost in thought. Then she went slowly upstairs to her own +room. + +She sat down upon the bed, suddenly catching her breath, as one stifling +a sob. Then she twitched her body with an impatient shake, like a +naughty child. Then she rose quickly and began to rectify or complete +various small duties, neglected by the maid, who had arranged the +chamber while she had been out. Ornaments were to be lifted and dusted, +pillows more carefully smoothed, chairs to be moved an inch forward then +replaced. Mirrors to be wiped clear of invisible dust, but not, for some +inscrutable reason, to be looked into; in short, pretended duty must be +indulged in--a poor pretense, which died away as she sank into a chair +and, with listless hands lying in her lap, permitted thought to have its +way. + +Had she known him or not? Of course she had not known him. Not even when +(here she blushed and her lips parted slightly)----She was angry at her +impetuosity, honestly angry. It was silly, but she had no other reproach +to make to herself. It had not been her fault, coming from the sunny +street, that she had not recognized the man who had advanced so eagerly +to meet her,--the last person she could have expected to see in her own +house. It would be absurd to feel more than passing annoyance at such a +contretemps. Only a morbid conscience could find reproach for an +episode in which there was no fault, which naturally she regretted---- + +No! She did _not_ regret. Had her heart not fluttered with joy every +moment since it had happened? Was it true or was it not--she did not +know, but, alas, she wished it true--that for one brief instant, ere he +had released her, she had known him and had been happy? Happy! What a +barren word was "happy." + +Her thoughts wandered far--farther than ever before. The secret casket +in her heart, wherein heretofore they had been hidden, was opened, and +they rushed forth, to roam in regions forbidden, yet so fair that her +feeble protests were unheeded; and she smiled upon them, these bright +children of fancy, wandering with them in the paradise where Love has +made his home. She closed her eyes and strove to realize again the brief +ecstasy of an hour ago. She knew--she must have known--in whose arms she +had been enfolded. She wished it so; it must be so. Again she felt his +beating heart against her own, his arms once more about her, his breast +pressed close to hers. "Mark," she whispered, stretching forth her arms +and pouting lips as one prepares for meeting other lips---- + +The morning grew old, and she still sat thinking of many things. She +knew that she loved the man that had left her, with a love that must be +his, and his only, shared by no other. She had known it as she had that +morning stood upon the strand, seeing in the fleeting rainbows of the +spray pictures of a life that might have been, but which could never be. +She had turned her back upon the vision, well knowing why she turned +away. She had seen it again in the cemetery and had denied it, bidding +it begone forever; and she had met it on the threshold of her home, no +longer a vision, but a fact so rapturous and so mighty that she dared no +longer deny the truth. She loved him; she had always loved him. + +She sat long, dreaming her pleasant dreams, which only slowly merged +with the facts with which she was environed. Very gradually the full +import of her thoughts came home to her, but it came surely, disclosing +an abyss so evil and so deep that she was appalled, and sinking upon +her knees she cried aloud that she was a guilty creature, and prayed +fervently and long for aid to be that which she had only that morning +resolved to be, a faithful wife in thought as in deed. + +At last she went downstairs. Entering the library, she discovered her +husband. + +He still slept, the deep sleep of exhaustion. She watched him, noting +the careworn face, the disheveled dress. To her he looked like a man who +had passed through a crisis of illness, he was so changed. + +And now the regret and penitence for all the wrong she had done him +pressed upon her as a heavy weight. She was his wife, yet had driven him +from her side. She was his wife, yet had, within an hour, dreamed her +dreams of love and happiness in which he had no share. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A GOLDEN BRIDGE ACROSS AN ABYSS OF SHAME. + + +When Leonard awoke to find her bending over him, the anxiety in her eyes +looked to him like fear. He had no perception of the fact that hours had +passed since in the meeting in the hall he had seen the same eyes +dancing with the light of joy, and had heard from the drawing-room the +fond murmurs of forbidden love. In his first awakening the scene he had +witnessed and the murmurs he had heard swayed before his eyes and +sounded still in his ears. Fresh from dalliance with her lover, she +might well tremble to find her husband here! With this thought +uppermost, he staggered to his feet. + +She started back. He glared upon her with a gaze so furious that she was +in truth afraid. + +For the burden of her guilty dream weighed heavily upon her, justifying +the hatred in his eyes, a hatred born of the ascription of all his woes +to her, and while she saw abhorrence, the suffering he had endured was +no less plainly written in his haggard face, accusing her even as she +accused herself. Her sins against this man, her husband, the father of +her dead child, crushed her with the burden of the humiliation born of +them. + +"My husband!" In her self-abasement she sank upon her knees. The action +was instinctive in her of Gallic training; to Leonard, bred to less +dramatic display of emotion, it was proof of guilt far deeper than he +had until now suspected. + +"Get up," he said harshly, and taking her by the arm he led her to the +doorway, pushing her from the room and, with unconscious violence, +almost throwing her against the opposite wall. He returned to the room +and rang the bell. His rudeness had given him a sense of mastery in his +own house, and had dissipated his dread of meeting the servants. He +asked the maid if breakfast would soon be ready, and was surprised to +learn that it was long past noon. + +Ordering a meal to be prepared he went upstairs, boldly and with +something not unlike a swagger in the perception that there were sinners +as bad as he, and having bathed, being clothed in fresh garments, and +having eaten almost ravenously, he felt, he said to himself, like a new +man. + +Which indeed he was, if new thoughts make a new man. That dreadful load +of regret for his own misdeeds had been lifted from his shoulders. His +violence toward his wife had somewhat shocked himself, and while +attending to his physical needs, he had had time to regret his hasty +outbreak; and this fact led him to resolve to consider the situation +calmly and judicially. + +To know all is, if the French adage be true, to pardon all, which is +perhaps the reason why we find it easier to forgive our own sins than +those of others. We presumably know what motives actuated us in +evil-doing, and being aware of the strength of the force that drove us, +we are conscious of the fact that had the incentive to sin been less +powerful than our rectitude we would not have been guilty. In other +words, we sin because we can't help sinning, a logical and soothing +conclusion, converting our wickedness into misfortune and rendering us +objects of self-commiseration rather than of self-condemnation. + +But in that contemplation of the iniquity of others, to which +circumstances sometimes impel us, and which is always so painful, the +strength of temptation which we have not personally experienced is less +obvious, while at the same time the sense of our own rectitude is +naturally in the ascendant. And as, in such contemplation, our judgment +is inevitably swayed by our morality in its sternest mood, especially if +the crimes under consideration have wronged ourselves, our indignation +is naturally fervent. It is also true that our vision is clarified, our +memory sharpened, and we recall incidents, now corroborative of guilt, +though heretofore unremarked, or regarded as innocent. + +Leonard recalled so many of such incidents that at last nearly every +remembered act of his wife assumed a semblance of guilt. There were +those visits to churches mentioned by Berthe, the woman who truly loved +him, and who, doubtless, had minimized the truth to spare him, and the +same habit had been indulged in after marriage. It was not to pray that +she went to the churches; he remembered that she had herself said so. +No; it was to dream of the old unhallowed meetings in the hallowed +precincts. To dream! Why not to meet her lover? During much of their +sojourn in Paris, Mark had been supposed to be in London--what was a +passage between London and Paris to Mark? He remembered now that in +Natalie's bearing toward himself there had always been a vague and +undescribable something which he could not define, but which he had +felt. It was easy now to fix the date of the commencement of this +aloofness (he had found this word for it); it had been during the visit +in Paris. He recalled a thousand instances with which to torture his +mind and prove his suspicions true. The aloofness had increased; after +the birth of the child it had even been noticed by others--and then as a +blow came the conviction that the inferences she had drawn from his +belief in hell and her consequent resolve to live a celibate life were +all pretense, a ghastly role played in obedience to her lover's command. + +As this hideous thought took possession of him all semblance of judicial +summing up was put aside. He laid his head between his hands and wept +aloud in his great misery. He had loved her; she had been the light of +his life. He remembered her now (and the vision he recalled was +strangely clear and vivid) as she had stood at the entrance to the cave +where dwelt the echo of Forellenbach; she laughing a little at the +strange American boy who thought wine-drinking an evil; he standing +within the cave, half shy, half proud, and longing to wake the echoes +with the pretty name, on that day first heard by him. Yes; he had loved +her then and always, while she,--and he groaned and his hot tears fell +fast as he remembered that Berthe had said--Berthe who knew--that his +wife had never loved him! + +The thoughts that racked him were base and unworthy, but he believed +them. It may be that at the bottom of his heart he wished to believe, +even while the belief rent him with actual anguish. He needed +justification for his own sins, and true to his human nature, found it +where he could. Again, perhaps dim as yet, but only dim because he +closed his eyes, was the desire to be driven to a step which he had +hardly dared contemplate, which he had refused to contemplate when it +had been suggested to him, but toward which now he was making his way as +certainly as he who, lost in the gloom of some dark forest, makes his +way toward a rift of light. + +He took Mrs. Joe's cheque from his pocket and looked at it. He recalled +a suggestion of Berthe that they cash it and go to France together. The +suggestion had startled, yet had fascinated him. He had put it aside. +Now its fascination returned with tenfold power--to put the ocean +between him and the past; to be a denizen of that land where man can be +free; to be one of those who, being damned, refuse to accept misery in +this life as well--he had recognized it then as a picture painted by the +devil; it now assumed a worthier aspect. There would be boldness in such +a step, a certain picturesqueness as well, and a dramatic ending to the +play in which he had enacted the role of dupe. The curtain would be rung +down upon a scene not contemplated by the authors of the drama--a scene +in which he alone would retain some dignity, to the discomfiture of +those whose puppet he had been. + +No thought of financial dishonesty was in his mind. The peculiar +fascination in the cheque was the facility it afforded for complete and +sudden rupture of every tie. He could secure the maker of the cheque +against loss; that could be done at his leisure; meanwhile, there it +lay, a golden bridge for passage across an abyss of shame, beyond which +lay a region of beauty and content. + +Yet even while he mused, finding a balm for wounded pride and love +betrayed in visions, of which the central figure was the woman who had +parted from him in despair, and whose pleading eyes even now besought +him, while his own lonely heart called out to her--even now, when +despair on the one hand, and passion on the other, strove for mastery, +even now he turned from the devil's beckoning finger, resolving to be +just. + +Yes; the accused should have a hearing. He would confront his wife and +demand an explanation of that meeting in the hall. She was probably +aware that he had witnessed it, for she had crouched in fear before him +when she had unexpectedly found him in the library. If she had not known +of his presence he would inform her and warily watch her, and carefully +weigh whatever she had to offer in explanation. He would not be +deceived, but she should meet the accusation face to face, himself +accuser, judge and witness. + +He looked at his watch. It was after nine o'clock. Natalie could hardly +be in bed. He would see her now in her own room, away from the chance of +eavesdropping servants. + +He prepared to put his intention into effect and was already in the +hall, when a maid handed him a sealed note. + +He read the letter. It commenced abruptly, without address: + + "Your violence has so agitated me that it has only been after a + long struggle that I have brought myself to write you. But I + persuade myself, as indeed I must, that you were unconscious of + your harshness. I will not, therefore, offer you my forgiveness + for an offense which was unintentional. But I think it better + that we do not meet immediately. I am the more urgent in this + because I wish your spirit to be soothed and your anger against + me to be mitigated, so that you shall hear me calmly. For, I + have much to say to you--a sad confession to make which may be + even harder for you to bear than the sorrow you have already + borne. But I have hope that if you will hear it calmly you will + recognize that if I did not love you I could not open my heart + to you, as I shall do. My husband, I have not been that which I + so long to be in future, a true wife to you. But I know, for I + know your goodness of heart, that when you have heard all you + will pardon all, and that our future shall be cloudless; that + your love shall help me to be that which I have failed in + being--your faithful wife." + +No need now, having read this confession, to consider his future course. +It was fixed. He looked at his watch. The train left at midnight. He +would write the necessary answer to the letter at once. + +He wrote swiftly and without pause. His brain had never been clearer, +his heart never lighter. + +A few minutes before midnight he quietly left the house. When he had +crossed the street to the Square he looked back at the only home he had +ever known. For good or for evil he was about to leave it, never to +return the husband of the woman who watched in the dimly lighted +chamber. A sob shook him as he turned from the light toward the +darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +THE RUINS OF HER AIR-CASTLE LAY AROUND HER. + + +Father Cameril laid down the "Life of St. Dunstan" and sighed. "He was +strong, he was faithful," muttered the good Father. "Alas!" and he +sighed again. + +He took a photograph from his pocket and gazed long upon the pictured +features. "Dr. Hicks did it," he murmured. Then he replaced the +photograph and went forth, going toward the sea, until at last, by many +a devious way, he came into the grounds of Stormpoint, and there, by +Eliphalet's Tomb, he saw a woman. "'Tis fate," he muttered. The woman +turned; Father Cameril started. He was face to face with Natalie. + +He stammered awkwardly, being wholly taken by surprise, that he had +thought she was Miss Lynford; then, after some conventional references +to the weather, he escaped. Natalie watched him as he walked away, then +fell into bitter musings, in which he had no part. + +Two years had passed since Leonard's flight. With the fall of her hero, +the light of the life of Miss Claghorn had been extinguished, and +though, with grim courage, she had striven to bear the heavy hand of the +Lord, laid thus upon the House of Claghorn, the knowledge that another +of the race, the brightest and the best, was doomed, was too heavy a +burden. Other Claghorns would be born and would live their little day, +but for whom could hope be cherished after such a fall as this? She +passed from life sure of her own salvation, but with the knowledge that +the elect race was no more to be reckoned as of the favored minority. +She refused to leave any message for Leonard; since the Lord had closed +the gates of glory upon him, it was for her to close her heart. She +charged her estate with a liberal annuity for Tabitha Cone, leaving her +fortune, otherwise unincumbered, to Natalie, who, with Tabitha, +continued to reside at the White House. + +A further untoward result of the catastrophe was the derangement of the +political plans of Mrs. Joe. The use of her cheque, given to Leonard, as +trustee, his unfulfilled promise of a large donation from an anonymous +lady (who could be no other than the lady of Stormpoint), his curt +resignation sent to the Seminary authorities from New York, the +separation from his wife, her seclusion, the crushing grief of Miss +Claghorn, the perturbation of Mrs. Joe, shared by Mark--these were all +parts of a puzzle eagerly put together, and so far successfully, that +the fact of the misuse of the cheque was established, at least to the +satisfaction of the multitude. And this involved an explanation from +Mrs. Joe, and the making known of her change of mind in respect of the +donation, which again involved some reflection upon the god and the +Confession revered by the Seminary, wherefrom was emitted a spark of +resentment, not allayed by Mark's openly expressed indignation with +those who professed to discover something parlous with regard to the +change of mind of his mother, in respect to the once-intended bounty. +The upshot of all this confusion was the lassitude, not to say, disgust, +evinced by Mark for the political prospects held out by Hampton, and +Mrs. Joe's recognition of the need of acting upon the shrewd advice of +Mr. Hacket, which was to "lie low till the pot stopped boiling," a +consummation not fervently hoped for by the adviser. + +With eyes fixed upon where the sun, a fiery ball, fast sank in the +distant waters, Natalie, standing where Father Cameril had left her, +recalled the days of her girlhood and their dreams. Her life, short as +it had been as yet, had been full of trouble. Were all lives thus? Her +glance fell upon the tomb; she wondered if the man at rest these two +centuries and more had in death resolved the deep mystery of living; or +was he, in fact, not yet at rest, but wandering still in other spheres, +the toy of a destiny he could neither shape nor fathom? She recalled the +day upon which she had seen the handsome American boy in the Odenwald, +and she thought of the ruin of his life with unutterable sadness. She +remembered how she had prattled with her father as the two dusty +travelers had entered the garden, and she recalled her bright visions +of the days to come. The days were here! The crumbling ruins of her +air-castles lay about her, and in the great upheaval that had caused +their fall a life had been wrecked. She looked out upon the waters, +hearing the ceaseless moan of the surge, and remembered how the kindly +fury of the waves had striven to rescue that life from shame and +degradation. Better, ah! how much better, had Leonard never returned +from that desperate plunge, but had gone a hero to whatever lay beyond! + +She remembered the day--it was not a day to be forgotten--that she had +taken the early walk to the cemetery; and how, as she had then looked +out upon the waves, a truth that during all the days of her wedded life +had lain at the bottom of her heart, had confronted her unbidden, +demanding recognition. She had refused to see it, until in the awakening +that had come to her in the cemetery she had, with high resolve, +determined to defy it and make of it a lie--and within an hour had +forgotten her resolution, and had dreamed her dreams which had their +birth in the pressure of lips to which she had no right. On the morrow +of that darkest day of her life she had found her husband's letter to +herself, a letter whose words were burned in upon her memory: "Natalie, +in your heart you never loved me." He had added more, the justification +of the wretched confession, now defiant, now maudlin, which followed; +much of it sadly false; but she remembered it all, and the true text of +his miserable story stood out before her as though lettered in the air. +The words condemned her. It was not true, and she made a gesture as +though repelling an accusation--it was not true that in the truth of +Leonard's words lay the underlying motive of the course of life she had +resolved upon. She denied this in her thoughts with almost frantic +vehemence; yet, urgent in her wish to find palliation for her husband's +sin, and seeing with clear vision the folly of the frightful dogma which +she now knew that in very truth he could not have believed, but which, +if believed, must of her own wrong have made a virtue, she grew +confused, and could find but one utterance to express the truth--"I have +sinned." + +She drew from the bosom of her dress a letter which she had received +but a few hours before. It was from Leonard, written from New York, and +repeating that accusation which she confessed as true. In the letter the +writer expressed his surprise that he had not found, on his return to +America, that she had taken steps to rid herself of ties which must be +hateful to her. This, he claimed, was an added injury to him, since it +prevented the course which his conscience required, and which he was in +honor bound to take for the sake of one who had loved him sufficiently +to sacrifice herself for him (meaning, though Natalie was ignorant of +the fact, Mademoiselle Berthe). He had added that if, within a given +time, his wife did not avail herself of the legal right to secure her +freedom, he would, actuated by the high considerations suggested, be +compelled to take measures to satisfy his conscience and his sense of +honor. And he concluded the epistle by setting forth with sufficient +distinctness the fact, that the law would recognize the validity of the +grounds on which he would, if it became necessary, base his application +for divorce. + +Heretofore she had resented the urgency of every friend (except one who +refrained from advice) to take the step to which she saw now she would +be driven. Mark alone had been silent, and her heart had often +fluttered, knowing his reason. But she had not dwelt upon a thought upon +which she knew she must not linger; rather had she prayed that Leonard +might return, and she be enabled to carry out the resolve she had so +often made, and in which she had so often failed, to be in all things a +true wife; thus earning the forgiveness which she craved by according +that which was due from her. Perhaps she had persuaded herself that such +a course would be possible--even so--she knew that in the letter she +held in her hand, she saw not the insult to herself, not the base +attitude of its writer, but the dawning of another day, and the promise +of a happiness which hitherto she had not dared contemplate, and which +she tried hard not to contemplate now. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +VOIDABLE VOWS OF TURKS (AND OTHERS). + + +When Father Cameril had found Natalie at Eliphalet's tomb, expecting to +find Paula, he had received a greater shock than the incident would seem +to have required. + +He had said to himself it was Fate; but had found that it was not fate +that determined a step which he desired to be compelled to take. + +That vow of celibacy had been made in ignorance. He was sure, having +examined the authorities closely as to this, that a vow taken in +ignorance was not binding. Turks were in the habit of vowing enmity to +the truth, yet could a Turk do a more praiseworthy deed than break such +a vow? He had supposed that celibacy was a good things for priests. He +had been wrong. It was a very bad thing. Ought he to continue a wrong +course in deference to a vow taken under a misconception? The underlying +motive of the vow was the desire to live worthily; since life lived in +accordance therewith would be passed less worthily than in opposition to +it, the only honest course was to disregard the vow. So argued Father +Cameril, unaided by fate, and hence, compelled to fall back on logic. + +But fate was to be more propitious than he had feared. Seated on a rock +in a distant portion of the grounds, gazing out upon the setting sun, he +came upon Paula. + +He took the hand she offered and which, as had lately been the case, +lingered a little within his own. Then he sat down beside her. + +"How beautiful it is," she observed. + +"Paula," he said, "I love you. Will you be my wife?" + +"Oh!" exclaimed Paula. + +Perhaps it was not very reassuring. But it was not a refusal. Her face +was rosier than he had ever seen it. Her heart was beating wildly. + +"I wanted to be a nun," she faltered. + +"I know it," he replied; "and I----" + +"Vowed celibacy." + +"It is true," he admitted. + +And then they sat and looked at where the sun had been. + +After awhile Paula arose and said she must go to the house. + +He offered his hand. + +"May I kiss you?" he said, in a low tone, his face very pale. + +"Father Cameril!" + +He hung his head. "You despise me," he said, after awhile. "You are +right. I despise myself. It is very hard." + +"I don't despise you; and you are not to despise yourself," she +stammered. "You perplex and confuse me. You astonish me." + +"I knew I would," he answered hopelessly. "It is very natural. I wish I +had not been born." + +"I beg you not to say dreadful things, not to have dreadful thoughts," +she exclaimed. + +"But I can't help them. If you knew how awful they are sometimes. Dr. +Hicks did it, Paula." + +"Don't let us talk of it." + +"Let us think about it." + +"I couldn't." + +"Don't you love me?" + +"I love everybody. You, and everybody." + +"Yes, you are a saint. I am not. I only love you. I only think of you. +Morning, noon and night. At Mass; everywhere----" + +"Do you, really?" she interrupted. + +"I do, really." + +She looked at him curiously. It was very nice, indeed, to know that a +good man was in the habit of thinking of her so continuously. But---- + +"You should not think of me in church," she said. + +"Of course not. I wouldn't if you were my wife. As it is, you creep into +all my thoughts. You are in the prayer-book, in the Bible, in the Life +of St. Dunstan, and of St. Thomas (of Canterbury), too. You are +everywhere." + +"Oh!" said Paula again. This was love indeed. + +"But your vow?" + +"I can explain that. Vowing under a misconception is not binding. That +was the way I vowed." + +"On purpose?" she asked, horrified. + +"Oh, no. I thought I was doing right." + +"Perhaps you were," she said. "If you were, this must be wrong." + +"I have examined my own heart closely, very closely." + +"Have you been to confession?" + +"To whom can I go? The Bishop would not hear me. He is benighted----" + +"There's your friend, Father Gordon." + +"Oh, Paula, he's only twenty-three." + +"But he's a priest." + +"But _he's_ under a vow. How can he understand?" + +A rapid footstep was heard. "There's Mark!" exclaimed Paula. + +Father Cameril tripped quickly away. "You here!" exclaimed Mark, as he +came upon Paula. "Isn't it dinner time?" + +"It must be," she said, slipping her hand into the arm he offered. + +"It was Father Cameril, Mark," she said, after a pause. + +"Of course," he replied. + +"Why, of course?" she asked, with slow utterance. + +He looked down into her face a little quizzically. "Is it not of +course?" he asked. + +"I--don't--think so," she answered slowly. + +"Paula!" He stood confronting her suddenly. + +"Well, Mark?" + +He laughed, yet looked at her rather seriously. "I thought you were +going to be a nun?" + +"I am; do you object?" + +"I shall be sorry to see it. But----" + +"But what?" + +"There are other things I would regret more." + +She looked into his face. It was a quick, questioning glance, but long +enough for him to note her beauty. They went on to the house in silence, +but Paula's heart fluttered. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +HER FACE WAS THE MIRROR OF HER PLEASANT DREAMS. + + +In Hampton Cemetery there stands, and will stand for the sympathetic +admiration of future ages, an imposing monument, which apprises him who +meditates among the tombs that it was "Erected to the Memory of Jeremiah +Morley, by his Sorrowing Widow." At the date of the construction of this +expensive evidence of grief, the cost whereof had been provided by +testamentary direction--for the late Jeremiah had not been the man to +stake a testimonial to his worth upon anything less binding--the +stone-cutter, as one versed in the prevailing fashion of monumental +inscriptions, had suggested the conventional reference to the usual +"Hope of a Joyful Resurrection"; but the widow, her conscience already +strained by the legend agreed upon, had objected. Yet the inscription +which strained her conscience had the merit of truth; for the man +beneath the stone had left her sorrowing, as she had sorrowed nearly +every day since she had been pronounced his wife; but, being strictly +Hamptonian in her views, her long intimacy with the deceased had +rendered her incredulous of his joyous resurrection. + +Years before the erection of the monument, while Easthampton was still a +port known to mariners, the warehouses since pulled down by Mrs. Joe +having hardly commenced to rot, a certain Jerry Morley who, so far as he +or anybody else knew, had no legitimate right to name or existence, had +sailed from the harbor in the capacity of third mate of the barque +"Griselda," a trim vessel manned by a crew of blackguards, not one of +whom could approach the mate either in hardihood or in villainy. At that +time Mate Jerry had been scarcely more than a boy, ragged, unkempt and +fierce-eyed; when he returned, which he did by stage (for the barque had +disappeared from the ken of man), he was a smooth-shaven, portly +gentleman, hard and domineering; but strict in his walk (to all +appearance), and rich. The voice of detraction is never absolutely +silent, and though Mr. Morley possessed all the ingredients which go to +the making of a "Prominent Citizen," and played that role successfully +for many years; yet occasional whispers were heard as to mutiny, murder, +seizure of the "Griselda," and a subsequent career as a slaver; +whispers, confined mostly to the ancient mariners who smoked and basked +about the decaying docks of Easthampton, and which, in due time, were +heard no more. Mr. Morley purchased a fine residence in Hampton, was +munificent to the Seminary, married the fair daughter of a prominent +theologian, and, in short, appeared to the eyes of the world as a clean, +pompous, very wealthy and highly respected citizen and church member. +Few beside his wife knew that, in fact, he was a brute, given over to +secret vices. He had possessed a brain incapable of either excitation or +ache. Never sober, no man had ever seen him (to the observer's +knowledge) drunk. Few suspected his secret indulgence, but at the age of +sixty, liquor, aided by other sly excesses known only to himself, struck +him down, as a bullet might have done, relieving a once rarely beautiful +woman of a great load, and granting her a few years of comfort as a +set-off against many years of hidden misery. + +From this grandfather Leonard had inherited more than one unsuspected +trait, but not the iron constitution which had succumbed only after +years of abuse. Berthe still had her adorable one, but her adoration was +gone; her man had become an object of compassionate disgust. The +brilliant theologian was a sot. + +His fall had been from so great a height to so low a depth, that in his +own eyes his ruin was accomplished before his case was hopeless. He was +not hurried to his doom by late awakened appetites alone; he had hardly +abandoned his home before regret, if not repentance, became a burden too +heavy for endurance. The mournful echoes of his days of virtue, the +visions of his past of honor, were ever in his ears and before his eyes. +Remorse, the hell of sinners, was ever present; and from its constant +pangs was no relief except in plunging deeper into sin, inviting +greater horrors, and ever beckoned by them. To such miseries were added +the fear of that unending life beyond the grave; the life of torment, +which all his days he had been taught to contemplate as the doom of +souls abandoned by their Maker. The knowledge that he was one of those +"passed by" and left for the fires of hell--this knowledge hourly +increased the anguish of his spirit. Who among men shall too hardly +judge a ruined fellow-creature, abandoned by his God, who in debauchery +can find forgetfulness; or who, in the hazy mists of drunkenness alone, +can see some rays to cheer the gloom of ruin? + +They had at first gone to Paris, and there he had plunged into +dissipation with an ardor that had startled and angered his companion, +whose good sense had been revolted. True, she had shown him the way, +recognizing his need of distraction; but she had not counted on reckless +excess, and had at first welcomed the change when he showed a +disposition to concentrate his attention upon liquor alone. She was to +learn that this slavery was the most debasing of all. + +The woman had loved her victim in her own way, and for awhile she +honestly strove to raise him from the foul abyss in which he seemed +doomed to settle, but her efforts had been vain. She had long been +possessed of the common purse, and though her prudence had husbanded the +proceeds of Mrs. Joe's cheque, she saw the necessity of reasonable +economy; so she got her man to London, where he, by this time, exhausted +from dissipation, was content to live frugally, so long as his decanter +of gin was kept supplied. The woman often gazed furtively at him, and +was troubled. She commenced to consider the future. "Leonard," she said +one day, "you ought to marry me." + +He was neither startled nor repelled. "It would be the first step in the +right direction," he answered. "Perhaps then I could overcome the +craving for drink." She was touched by the hope which for one moment +gleamed in his dull eyes. It aroused an answering hope in her bosom. Ah! +If it could be! If she could become his lawful wife, an honest woman; +and he the man he had been before she had led him to ruin! The passing +vision of purer days lured both. + +A nobler desire than mere acquisitiveness was awakened in her. She knew +that probably no such marriage would be legal; it might even be +dangerous. But, it would bind him to her so that there could be no +escape. And so the matter came to be discussed between the two. Both +were aware of the possible criminality of the act, though both hoped +that Leonard's wife had procured a divorce; but, notwithstanding some +misgiving, the marriage was finally accomplished. Berthe had her own +reasons for not waiting until they could revisit America; and perhaps in +the loneliness of his wrecked life, Leonard's object was like the +woman's, to bind her to himself with hooks of steel. Perhaps it was but +the result of influence of a stronger will upon a fast decaying mind. + +Thus it had come about that the two had returned to America, and, on +their arrival, had concocted the letter to Natalie, by whom it had been +submitted to Mr. Ellis Winter. That gentleman advised that Natalie take +up her residence in New York, and he engaged to notify Leonard that his +demand for divorce would be accorded, as soon as the needful legal +requisites could be complied with. Natalie was to make her application +on the ground of abandonment, and to refuse to ask for alimony. + +And now, alone with Tabitha in a big hotel, without occupation, except +such as was afforded by recollections which could not be other than +bitter; in the gloom of the days and the miserable object of her present +existence, Natalie allowed herself to see the rays of hope illumining a +future upon which she looked, shyly, and with a sense of guilt. Yet who +would not contemplate the alluring tint of fruit as yet forbidden, but +ripening for us before our eyes? + +During this period of isolation she saw Mark once, his visit having the +ostensible excuse of business. Leonard had, by the hand of his legal +adviser, written to Mrs. Joe, suggesting that she purchase the Morley +mansion, so that out of the proceeds of the sale he could repay his +debt. While the lady would have been as well content that the debt +remain unpaid, it was believed by all who still hoped that Leonard might +be won back to respectability, that the suggestion was a good one. To +carry it into effect the consent of Natalie was, of course, necessary, +and also that the transfer be effected before the institution of divorce +proceedings. The consent was immediately given. + +"And, Mark," said Natalie, as she handed him the deed, "if you see +Leonard, say to him that I hope for his forgiveness." + +"His forgiveness!" + +"Ah, Mark! I wronged him; I ought never----" + +He knew what was on her lips, but which she could not say to him--that +she ought never to have married Leonard. He took her hand and drew her, +unresisting, toward himself; her head drooped upon his shoulder. They +stood thus, for a moment, and then he left her. Words of love remained +unspoken, but the heart of each was full of that which was unsaid. + +There was a long and dreary interval, but at length came the day when +Natalie was made free. She learned the fact in the afternoon, but +concealed it from Tabitha. That evening she was melancholy, and Tabitha +essayed in vain to cheer her; and so the next day passed. But the day +after that Tabitha noticed a change; a tremulous fluttering, some +tendency to tears, but more to smiles. And Tabitha discovered that she +was being petted. She must have a drive--and had it; special delicacies +at luncheon were ordered for her delectation, including a share of a +pint of champagne, which Tabitha averred was sinful, though she sinned +with satisfaction. A beautiful gold watch was given her to replace the +fat-faced silver bulb, precious in Miss Cone's eyes as once the property +of the long-drowned mariner, but which of late years had acquired the +eccentric characteristics of the famous time-piece of the elder Weller; +and at last when the time came to say "good-night," Tabitha must be +kissed and hugged. But the last proceeding was too much for the maiden's +discretion. "What is it?" she asked. + +"Oh, Tabby, I'm so happy." And then, ashamed, and afraid of having said +too much, Natalie escaped to her own room. + +And there read again the letter which she had received that morning, and +which she had furtively read many times during the day. She knew it by +heart, but she liked to read the words written by her lover's hand. + + "Dear Natalie--The decree is granted. The words, 'I love you' + have been on my lips so long, that they must find utterance. I + repeat them, if not with lips, yet in my heart every moment of + the day. Write or telegraph me the date of your arrival at the + White House. I would rather have a letter; in a letter you can + say that you love me. Shall it be a letter? + + "MARK." + +To this she had answered by telegraph: "I write to-night." He was in +Philadelphia, and until the evening of the following day she would be +unable to leave for home. He would receive her letter in time to get to +Stormpoint soon after her arrival in Easthampton. He desired a letter; +he should have a letter. + +Yet it was hard to write. It had been easy to whisper to herself such +phrases as "Mark, dear Mark, I love you, I love you"; but it was less +easy to set those words down on paper, though there was a joy in it, +too. The difficulty of writing them vanished when they were for her own +eye only, not to be mailed. And so she scribbled over sheet after sheet +of paper: "Mark, Dear Mark, My Love, My Own, My Lover"--such words and +many others she wrote, blushing, smiling; at times not seeing what she +wrote for the tears in her eyes. At last she roused herself from this +foolish play and wrote a proper letter. + + "Dear Mark--How good you have always been! I shall arrive home + on Saturday morning. I long to see you. Dear Mark, I love you." + +The last phrase was hurriedly written and had required resolution, but +she was happier for having written it. She sealed the letter that she +might not be tempted in the morning to substitute another. Then she went +to bed, and all the night through her face was the mirror of her +pleasant dreams. No shadow of the future was upon her as she slept +smiling. + +And awoke with the smile upon her face, and in a low voice sang while +dressing. Her toilet concluded, she took her letter from the table, +kissed it shyly, and placed it in her bosom. She would mail it as she +went downstairs. + +A knock at her door and the announcement of a visitor--a lady who had +business of importance. Natalie ordered that the lady be shown into her +sitting-room. + +On entering the sitting-room she found Berthe. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +HER GUILTY CONSCIENCE CRIED: "BEHOLD YOUR HANDIWORK." + + +Natalie saw all things through the halo of the rosy hopes that now +encompassed her. "Berthe!" she exclaimed, both hands extended in +welcome, "I thought you had gone to France. Mrs. Leon told me so--but, +how is this? You look pale and ill?" + +Pale and ill she was, but no illness would have deterred her from making +the appeal she had come to make. + +Since his return to America, Leonard had indulged in drink more +recklessly than ever, and Berthe, though conscious of the value to +herself of the divorce, had dreaded the granting of the decree. For the +prospect of being bound to this lost creature filled her with aversion. + +Conscience makes cowards of us all, and Berthe feared the man. Not that +he had shown any inclination for violence toward her, though he had long +been irritable and disposed to quarrel on slight provocation. She did +not fear his hand; it was his presence. The sodden spectacle was +becoming a weight upon her soul, an accusation beyond her strength to +bear. She had loved him, loved him even now, and her guilty conscience +cried incessantly, "Behold your handiwork!" + +On the day when Natalie had petted Tabitha, she had for the first time +lived in fear, even of his hand. Early that morning she had noticed that +his speech was tremulous and uncertain, though he drank less than usual. +He dozed constantly, often waking with a cry of terror; and then his +whole frame would tremble as he gazed with eyes of hate and horror at +herself, or at some invisible yet dreadful object near her, muttering +incoherent phrases indicating fear. Again he would doze, again awake and +the scene would be repeated. With each new seizure his action became +more violent, while the nameless horror that was upon him communicated +itself to her. At last she sent for a physician, but not until there had +been a wild outbreak. He had clutched her by the throat: "Devil!" he +shouted, "you shall not take me to hell; I am of the elect, a Claghorn! +Down, fiend!" She had cowered in fear, and he had saved her life by +fainting. + +The doctor easily diagnosed the case. Berthe's willingness to pay for +the services of two male nurses, and the fear that any disturbance might +entail a frantic outbreak and death, were the considerations that +restrained the physician from ordering the patient's removal to a +hospital. + +The convulsions of the stricken man were frightful; his shrieks, his +wailing prayers for deliverance from hell--these appalled the woman, +filling her with apprehension akin to that of the raving victim. His +calls for Natalie were most piteous, wails of anguish that pierced the +heart of the woman that had loved him, and whose moans answered his +incessant repetition of the name of one, lacking whose forgiveness he +must face the horrors of the damned. The unending utterance of the name, +never ceasing even when at last he sank into the stupor of exhaustion +and of opiates, attracted the attention of the physician, who told +Berthe that while he believed the case hopeless, possible good might be +effected by the presence of the person without whom it seemed as though +the man could not even die. + +The awful fear that he would die, his last wish ungratified, wherefore, +in her belief, his restless soul would haunt all her future days; this, +added to the pity for the man she still loved, who had rescued her from +misery, whose head had lain upon her bosom, nerved her to carry out the +resolve she had taken. She knew that no messenger could effect the +purpose; she must assume the task herself. It was not without a pang +that she determined upon a mission which, if successful, must involve +her desertion of the dying man; but, though she did not forget such +jewels as she possessed or to collect all the money that remained, her +flight was nevertheless intended as such expiation as she could make. + +She hoped, though she could not be sure, that her identity as Leonard's +companion was not known to Natalie; but she assumed that Mrs. Leon had +given information as to other misconduct, and she expected to be met +with cold disapproval, if, indeed, she were received at all. But instead +of disapproval she was encountered with outstretched hands and their +friendly pressure; and, as with this reception there came upon her the +recollection of the sweet graciousness of her former mistress, and with +it the consciousness of her requital of the kindness of past days, her +heart was like to fail. + +"I bring you a message," she gasped, "from your husband." + +"My husband!" For the moment Natalie forgot that she had no husband. +Then the recollection came upon her, and with it a premonition of evil. +She was as pale as Berthe, as she stood, looking at her visitor, +bewildered and afraid. + +"Stop!" she exclaimed, as Berthe was about to speak. "What can you know +of him you call my husband? He left me, abandoned me for a wicked woman. +He wrote me confessing his shame, but not his fault. Again he wrote, +insinuating wicked deeds of me, and threatening me. Since two days he is +no more my husband; I can receive no message." + +"He is dying!" + +The red flush which had displaced the pallor of Natalie's cheek +disappeared. Again her face grew pale; she stared at Berthe. + +"Listen," faltered the Frenchwoman. "He wronged you, yet he loved you +always, has loved you till this hour, and cannot die without your +forgiveness." + +"Take it to him----Dying! Leonard, Leonard!" She covered her face. + +"I was maid to the woman he went away with," continued Berthe, "and so I +came to know his story. The woman has been kind to him--let her pass, +then"--seeing that her listener shuddered. "The man is dying. He moans +and wails for you--for you. The woman herself begged me to come for you. +He fears" (her face grew whiter) "he fears the fires of hell, but he +will not have a priest. Only you can rescue him--your pardon--he cannot +die without it." She broke down. All else she might have borne upon her +conscience; but she could not bear that he should go unshriven. + +At the mention of the fires of hell Natalie was conquered. "Take me to +him," she said. + +"Follow me in half an hour," Berthe rose as she spoke, handing a written +address to Natalie. + +"But no time must be lost----" + +"In half an hour," repeated Berthe. "Give her--the woman--time to get +away." And then she passed out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +"I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIM, SO HELP ME GOD IN HEAVEN." + + +"Natalie." He stirred uneasily, muttering the word, which since her +coming he had not uttered; then, as she lightly pressed the hand she +held, he slept again. So she had sat for hours beside his bed. + +The physician had prepared her for the sight that had met her eyes. From +Tabitha, who was with her, he had gleaned some knowledge of the facts. +Tabitha, still ignorant of the granting of the decree, had assured him +that the visitor was the wife of Leonard Claghorn. + +"Poor woman, she will need her courage," he said. "The other one has +gone. As for the wife, if she can bear it, I would have her sit beside +him so that he can see her when he wakes." + +So there she had taken her place, beside the man whom the law had +decreed was no more to her than any other. But death mocks law. Dying, +he was so much to her that no hand but hers should smooth his pillow. + +Perhaps the nature of the disease, perhaps the deep exhaustion, had made +a great change in his appearance. The bloated aspect of his face was +gone, and even a greater beauty than the beauty of his youth and +innocence was apparent. But it was the beauty of ruin. The face was +marble, yet lined with the deep furrows of sorrow and remorse. The hair +was gray at the temples, the cheeks were hollow and the mouth was drawn. +It was Leonard, the man whose head had lain upon her bosom, the father +of her child--the same, yet oh, how changed! + +"Natalie!" + +She bent toward him. He essayed to lift her hand to his lips; she placed +it on his brow. + +"I have had a dream," he whispered, "a dreadful dream!" + +"Hush, Leonard. You must sleep." + +He feebly raised his arm and tried to draw her to him. Slowly she bent +toward him, falling on her knees beside the bed. His arm was now about +her neck; he drew her cheek to his. + +"My wife!" He uttered the words with a long-drawn sigh, of such sweet +content that in that sigh she believed he had breathed his life out. +Soon he spoke again. "Now I can sleep," he said, and freed her from his +embrace. She rose gently and stood watching him; he slept without the +stertorous breathing of before. Looking up, she saw the physician in the +doorway. He beckoned to her. She rose and quietly left the room. + +"Madam," said the doctor, "this is wonderful. That natural sleep may +portend recovery." + +"Then I can go," she said. + +The doctor looked at her gravely, not approvingly. But it was not as he +supposed; she was not hard-hearted; but the woman! Leonard had written +that his conscience and his honor demanded that he marry the woman. If +he were to live, there was no place at his bedside for her, who had once +been his wife. + +"Mrs. Claghorn," said the doctor, "your companion, Miss--ah--Miss Cone, +has informed me of the existing relations between you and your husband. +As a stranger I can give no advice, can only tell you that the woman who +has been his companion has left your husband forever." + +"Left him to die!" she exclaimed. + +"Precisely. It need not surprise you. It is barbarous; but such women +are barbarous. I shall be surprised if one who has displayed so much +magnanimity should fail now. Pardon me, Mrs. Claghorn, but your place is +by your husband's side. One woman has basely left him to die. Should you +leave him now, you repeat the act." + +The doctor silently withdrew. Natalie sank into a chair. Her mind was +confused. Her place by her husband's side! Had she then a husband? The +scenes in which she had been an actor had numbed her faculties, strained +by the long watch by the bedside she had left. A feeling of suffocation +was stealing over her; instinctively she loosened her dress at the +throat. The letter she had written to Mark fell upon the floor, and she +sat staring at it, dumb. + +It became evident that her husband, as all in the house believed him to +be, would live. Over and over again the doctor congratulated her on the +wonderful influence of her presence upon the sick man. Naturally, he was +glad to have rescued a patient from the very jaws of death; and though, +since he had learned more of her history from Tabitha Cone, he had +slight sympathy for the man, yet he believed that even under the +untoward circumstances existing, forgiveness and reconciliation was the +course which promised most for future happiness. + +"It is the best thing for her," he said to Tabitha. "She will withdraw +the divorce proceedings and forgive him. She can never be happy unless +she does." + +Tabitha, though sure that she herself would never have forgiven her +mariner under similar circumstances, which, however, she admitted were +unthinkable in that connection, agreed with the physician. + +"He will be long in getting well," said the physician; "if, indeed, he +ever recovers completely. If he has the heart of a man he must +appreciate what she has done for him; literally brought him back to +life." + +"He was a good man, once," observed Tabitha, her eyes filling. "Oh, +Doctor! The most beautiful, the sweetest; the most frank and loving +boy----" + +"And a brilliant theologian, you tell me. Well, well, Miss Cone, in my +profession we learn charity. It is astounding what an evil influence +some women can gain over men. And this one was not even beautiful." + +"The hussy!" + +"Quite so. Ah, Miss Cone, our sex must ever be on guard," and the doctor +laughed a little. He was feeling triumphant over the recovery of his +patient. + +Yet in watching that recovery his face was often very grave. Natalie was +sharp-eyed. "Is your patient getting well?" she asked. + +"He improves hourly," was the answer, but the tone was not cheerful. He +looked at Natalie anxiously. + +"Physically, yes. His mind, Doctor?" + +"His mental faculties are failing fast." + +"How long has this been going on?" He was surprised at her equable +tones. Evidently she had nerved herself for this disclosure. + +"A brave woman," he thought. + +"That is a hard question to answer." + +"Do you think it the result of drink? He had never touched liquor two +years since." + +"I should hardly ascribe it to liquor entirely. Doubtless, +over-indulgence of that nature has been a force, a great force. The +delirium in which you found him may be directly ascribed to drink." + +"If he had been greatly harassed, say two years since, having been up to +that time a good man--if then he had suddenly fallen into evil--would +you ascribe such a fall to the mental strain consequent upon the worry I +have suggested?" + +"She seeks every palliation for him," thought the doctor. "Madam, I +should say that in the case of a man, such as you have pictured, a +sudden lapse into evil courses, courses which belied his training and +previous life----" + +"Yes?" She was looking steadfastly at him. He little knew the resolve +that hung upon his words. + +"I should say he was not wholly responsible. I should attribute much to +the worry, the vexations, to which you have alluded." + +With all her firmness she shrank as from a blow. Thinking to comfort +her, he had driven a knife into her heart. + +"And now, my dear Mrs. Claghorn, since we are upon this subject--a +subject from which I admit I have shrunk--let me tender you some advice. +You have saved your husband's life; let that be your solace. It will not +be for his happiness that you sacrifice your own." + +"Go on," she said, seeing that he hesitated. + +"After awhile--not now," he said, "but after your presence is less +necessary to him, you must let me aid you to place him in an +establishment where he will have every care----" + +"An asylum?" + +The doctor nodded. + +"I will never leave him, so help me God in heaven! Never, never, Mark, +my darling, for I, and only I, brought him to this pass!" She cried +these words aloud, her hand upraised to heaven. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +MONEY, HEAPS OF MONEY. + + +Mark Claghorn, standing by the window of that room at Stormpoint which +was especially set aside as his own, but which, in its luxurious +fittings, bore rather the traces of the all-swaying hand of the mistress +of the mansion, gazed moodily out toward the tomb, speculating, perhaps, +as to the present occupation of the soul that had once been caged in the +bones that crumbled there. + +To whom entered Mrs. Joe, who silently contemplated him awhile, and +then, approaching, touched his shoulder. He turned and smiled, an act +becoming rare with him. "Mark," she said, "I am getting old." + +"You look as young as my sister might," he said. + +"That's nonsense," but she smiled, too. Barring some exaggeration, she +knew that his words were true. + +"Even so," she urged seriously, "you have wandered enough. You might +stay here for my sake." + +"Mother, I will stay here for your sake." + +"Only that, my son? You know I want more than that." + +"Yes," he said, "you want too much. Let us have it out. Believe me, your +pleasant dream of a political career for me is hopeless. Granted that I +could buy my way to high office--though I do not think so--could I ever +respect myself, or command respect? Where, then, would be the honor?" + +"I never thought of buying." + +"No, not in plain terms. But at my age, together with the fact that I am +a stranger, at least a newcomer, in this State, money would be my only +resource--perhaps a hopeless one, in any case. The rich man must learn +his lesson, which is, that wealth bars the way to honor." + +"Our senior Senator is rich." + +"I do not speak of moderately rich men. Suspicion is even directed +(unjustly, I believe) against such men. But the whole State knows that, +politically, our Senator has risen from the ranks. Perhaps he has been +compelled to buy that which is his due--who can tell? But all know that +at least he has earned the distinction he has won." + +"And could you not earn it?" + +"No. I am not merely moderately rich. I should be 'held up' by every +rogue that glories in the name of politician. If I refused to buy, and +refuse I must, I should have no chance whatever. Gold besmirches many +things. A rich man is of necessity defiled, let him keep his hands as +clean as he can." + +Mrs. Joe sighed. + +"You have not been willing to realize the facts which influence my +life," he went on. "We must look facts in the face. Political +distinction is not for me. For your sake I would try, were I not assured +that your disappointment would be inevitable. He laid his hand upon her +shoulder. He spoke very kindly. + +"Mark," she said--there were tears in her eyes--"I wish you were happy." + +"If I am content----" + +"But you are not. Oh, Mark, seek happiness. Marry." + +He smiled grimly. "I wish I could," he said. + +"Mark, you say my dream is hopeless. I surrender it. Is yours less +hopeless? You wear your life away. Is it worthy to wait for a man to +die?" + +He made no answer. + +"Dear," she said, and the word moved him deeply, for though he knew how +much he was beloved of his mother, a term of tenderness was rare from +her lips--"Dear, you know what she wrote me." + +"You showed me the letter. She gave me the same advice long ago." + +"It is the right thing to do. Paula loves you. Natalie is lost to you. +You do not know where she is; she does not intend that you shall know. +She will not marry you now, even though death were to free her from the +bonds she has assumed. She is right. Mind, Mark, I say no word of +censure. I believe in her purity as I do in Paula's--but the world will +talk. That which she has done cannot be kept secret, but her motive must +remain a secret. Had the man died----" + +"Enough!" he said sternly. "You say you believe in her as you do in +Paula. No shadow of suspicion can ever cross my mind or yours. We need +not consider the world----" + +"But, my son, she will consider it. She does consider it. Her letter to +me shows it. That letter was no easy one for a woman to write. Do you +think she would even indirectly have disclosed your secret to me, except +that she believed it necessary for your good? I do not doubt, Mark, that +she has renounced your love even to you. Is it not unworthy to----" + +"To love without hope? Perhaps it is. But since the fact is not +generally known--here, as in some other things, the sin consists in +being found out." He laughed. "You know you didn't find out; you were +told." + +"Yes; in the hope, I verily believe, that the disclosure would wound you +and so kill your love." + +"It wounded, certainly," he said bitterly. "Perhaps, if you give it +time, the wound may yet be as fatal as you wish--as she wished." He +laughed again very grimly. "Strange creatures, women," he said. "Their +self-sacrifice includes the sacrifice of every one but self." + +"That is cruel! From no possible point of view can her life be a happy +one." + +"How you quarrel about a man and cling together against a man!" he said, +smiling down upon the lady, who had no other answer than the shrug +which, when it moves feminine shoulders, implies that masculine density +is impenetrable. His smile broke into laughter. + +It aroused her secret indignation; but encouraged her, too. If he could +laugh, her case was not hopeless. + +"Mark, let us be sensible. You should marry and have children. What else +is open to you, the rich man? You have no faith in the world, none in +friendship, none in love. Consider what your life must be if, at this +age, all purer sources of feeling are dried up! In marriage you will +find them all reopened. Your family will be your world. You need +children. I need them. We are rich; yes, horribly rich. What is all this +worth to us? You are the last of a race, honorable since the tenant of +yonder grave first set foot upon this soil; honorable before that time. +Shall that race die in you? My son, that old-world notion of Family is +estimable. This country needs that it be cherished. The wealth will not +be so new in the next generation. Your sons will not be strangers in the +land of their fathers. You shall so train them that in them you shall +reap the distinction denied to you. You say I am yet young. I am not +old, and may still live to see my grandsons honored by their fellow men. +By your own confession nothing remains to you but marriage. Love is +offered you daily, by one most sweet and most lovable. Paula----" + +He stopped her by a gesture. Her unwonted energy had impressed him. She +had spoken well. "You have uttered many truths," he said, "but what you +say of Paula is not kind, nor do you know----" + +"Mark! on my honor as a woman, I believe that Paula loves you." Then she +left him. + +He remained long musing. Why should he not make his mother happy? It was +true, waiting for a man to die was a pitiful occupation. And even should +the man die there would be no hope for him. It was a year since Natalie +had hidden herself with her burden and Tabitha Cone. Hidden herself, as +he well knew, from him. She had written both him and his mother. She had +not feared to again acknowledge her love; but she had prayed him to +forget her. And she had told him that Paula loved him; she had shown him +that his duty required him to love Paula in return; finally, she had, +almost sternly, bade him cease to hope. + +Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps Paula loved him--as much as she +could love. He loved her in the same cool fashion. He was used to her. +She was very beautiful, completely amiable, kind and gentle. Not very +brilliant, yet if simple-minded, not a fool. Marriage would bring out +all there was of Paula, and that might be much more than was generally +suspected. And whatever it was it would be lovable. He knew he was +living the life of a fool. Why live that life consciously? Why not make +his mother completely happy; Paula and himself happier; as happy as they +could be? + +He turned to his desk and opened a hidden drawer therein. From this he +took a small packet of papers. "A man about to die or marry should set +his house in order," he muttered, as he spread the papers open. There +was the first letter Natalie had ever written him; a reply to his letter +of condolence concerning her father's death. He glanced over it and +slowly tore it into fragments. He did the same with the few others +written by her, all except the last he had received. This was in answer +to a letter into which he had thrown all the strength of his soul, +lowering, if not completely breaking down, the last barriers of reserve +behind which those who feel deeply hide their hearts. + +He could not complain that in her answer she had not been equally frank. +"From the innermost depths of my soul I love you, and if more can be, I +honor you still more--and because I so love and honor you I must not see +you again. I have loved you since the day I first saw you in the +Odenwald. I loved you when I became the betrothed of another. I hoped +then you would find a way to free me from the promise I had given. I +aver before Heaven that I tried with all my strength to be a faithful +wife. I loved my husband; alas! not as I know now, with a wife's love, +but I believed it. Yet--let me confess it--at the very bottom of my +heart slept my love for you, not dead as I had thought it. I have sinned +against you, against him who was my husband, against myself. We must all +suffer for my sin. You are strong. I must gather all the strength I can +for the duty that my guilt has laid upon me--to bear my fate and to make +a ruined life as endurable as unremitting care can make it. My sin was +great. Consider my expiation! I must always see before my eyes my +handiwork. + +"You love me. Do you think that ever a doubt of your love crosses my +mind? You will always love me. I know it. But, if you see me no more +that love will, in time, become a tender reminiscence--not worth a tear, +rather a smile--of pity let it be, for the lives that are wrecked. But +from this day forth let your own life present a fair ideal to be +realized. One has grown up beside you whose fate is in your hands. The +fashioning of her destiny lies with you. To be a happy wife and mother, +the lot for which nature intended her, or to live the barren life of a +religious devotee; and knowing her as I do, I know that for you, +embittered and distrustful by reason of your burden of inordinate +wealth, she is supremely fitted to make your life serene and cheerful in +return for the felicity you will bring to her. + +"Adieu, for the last time. I shall not forget you, but shall love you as +long as I live, and as warmly as I love you now. But deliberately, and +with unalterable resolve, I have chosen my lot. Nothing, not even the +hand of death, can render me fit to be more to you than the memory of +one who has lived her life." + +He slowly tore the letter into fragments as he had torn the others. +Perhaps his mouth twitched as he did so. He looked upon the little heap +of paper on his desk. "The Romance of a Rich Young Man," he muttered, +and smiled at the conceit. Then he gathered the fragments in his hand +and strewed them upon some tinder in the chimney and applied a match. +"Gone up in Smoke," he said aloud. + +"Did you speak?" asked his mother, who had entered the room. + +"I repeated the title of a novel I am going to write," he said. "I +wanted to hear how it would sound." + +"You must live a romance before you can write one, Mark." + +"True," he answered dryly. "I need experience. Where is Paula?" + +"Oh, Mark!" + +He kissed her. "Yes," he said, "I will do what I can to make you happy, +and--gain experience." + +Mrs. Joe's eyes beamed through her tears. + +"She is in the library." + +Leaving the room by the window, which opened upon a veranda, he walked +toward the library, the windows of which opened upon the same veranda. + +The library windows were divided in the centre, like doors. They were +open now, and the thick French plate reflected like a mirror. In the +open window pane he saw, as in a mirror, a portion of the interior. +Paula was there, and Paula's head nestled against the breast of Father +Cameril, and the good Father's arm encircled her while his lips pressed +hers. + +Mark stole silently away. + +He found Mrs. Joe awaiting him in the room he had left. "Be very kind to +her, mother," he said. "She will have something to tell you." + +"But you have been so quick----" + +He smiled. "I shall not be the hero of the tale. Father Cameril is the +lucky man. After all, it is better. I could not have made her happy as +she deserves to be. I am glad I was prevented from offering her----" He +hesitated. + +"Your heart," said Mrs. Joe. + +"An insult," he answered curtly, as he left the room, strolling toward +Eliphalet's tomb. + +And at Eliphalet's tomb he recognized that Natalie had been wise. Now +that it was lost to him he knew that his last long-neglected chance for +happiness was gone. Happiness! Perhaps the word meant too much, but in +Paula's companionship he could at least have found, in time, contentment +and cheerfulness, and are these not happiness, the highest happiness? +What now was left him? Money, heaps of money! It barred the way to +honorable ambition; its heavy weight lay on his heart, breeding therein +suspicion of the love or friendship of all men and women. For him life +must be a solitude. He could never lie beside a wife assured that he had +won her for himself. He knew that the deadly poison of distrust must +ever and ever more thoroughly taint his being, distorting his vision and +rendering the aspect of all things hateful. Yet how many thousand men, +whose clothes and dinners were assured them, would be glad to change +places with him! "But all I have are clothes and food," he muttered. + +"We are all poor critters!" Deacon Bedott had spoken words of wisdom. +"But the poorest of all is the Rich Man, Deacon," he said. + +And then bethought him that by this time Paula and Father Cameril would +have made their great announcement. "Little Paula!" he murmured. "Well, +she shall have joyous wedding bells, at least, and smiling faces. For +the rest let the fond Father look to it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +WEDDING BELLS. + + +The summer sun beat pitilessly upon the burnished cobble stones, driving +from the crooked street all except the geese, and even these only +languidly stretched their necks, hissing inhospitably at the heels of +the dusty wayfarer, the sole object of interest to the landlord of the +Red-Ox, who stood in the gateway of his hostelry and blinked in the +glare of the sun. "Too old for a student," he muttered, "and no +spectacles. Perhaps an artist." As the pedestrian came nearer a puzzled +gleam, half of recognition, spread over his features. The dusty traveler +stopped. "And so you are here yet!" and he slapped the broad shoulder of +the host. + +"Here yet, and hope to be for many a year to come," answered the fat +host; "and you are here, not for the first time, I dare swear; but who +you are, or when you last were here---- + +"That you can't recall. Why should you?" + +"_Ein Amerikaner!_ A _studiosus juris_, of the Pestilentia. _Ein alter +Bursch_ of ten years back! Remember? Surely, all but the name." + +"And what's in a name?" shaking the offered hand of the landlord. "Mine +is a mouthful for you--Claghorn." + +"_Herr Doktor_ Clokhorn. That's it. Not so great a mouthful after all." +He led the way into the well-remembered garden. "Many a schoppen have +you had here," he said; "and many a time sung '_Alter Burschen +Herrlichkeit_' at this very table, and many trout----" + +"Devoured," interrupted Mark. "That pastime will bear repetition. As for +singing, one loses the desire." + +"Not so," observed the fat host. "I am sixty, but I lead the Liederkranz +to-day. Wine, woman and song--you know what Luther said----" + +"I remember. But not even the Great Reformer's poetry is to be taken +too literally. We'll discuss the point later on. Now some trout, then a +pipe and a gossip." + +When the host departed to attend to the order, Mark unstrapped his +knapsack and looked about him. + +He had come thousands of miles to see this garden! He admitted the +foolish fact to himself, though even to his mother he would have denied +it. The fat host was right; he had drunk many a flask of wine in this +place, roared in many a chorus, had danced many a waltz with village +maidens on yonder platform; but of these various scenes of his student +days he had not thought until his host recalled them. They were +memories, even memories with some of that tender sadness which renders +such memories pleasant, but such as they would never have drawn him +here. + +And now that he was here, so sharp a pain was in his heart that he +recognized his folly. The wound was yet too new. He should have waited a +decade or more. Then he might have found solace in recalling her to his +mind, here where first he had seen her; he, in all the arrogant pride of +youth; she, with all the fresh beauty of a school girl. Now no effort +was needed to recall her to his memory--she was ever present. + +Nevertheless, he enjoyed his fish and his wine. "A superlative vintage," +said the host, who had had time to recall his guest more distinctly, and +who remembered that in past days _Studiosus Clokhorn_ had dispensed +money with a liberal hand. + +"And so the inn has been enlarged," said Mark, looking about him. "That +means prosperity." + +"Forellenbach is becoming a resort," replied the host. "We have parties +that remain for days. We have strangers here at this moment." + +"Ah!" was the sleepy comment. + +"Yes; three ladies. Or rather, two ladies and a maid. Mother and +daughter--English." + +"Ah!" said Mark again. + +At this point the host, rather to the relief of his guest, was called +away, and Mark adjusted himself upon the bench and dozed. A long tramp, +and perhaps the superlative vintage, had made him sleepy. + +When he awoke, sunset shadows were about him. He was vexed, having +intended to walk on to Heidelberg, which now he must do in part after +dark. However, a walk by night might be pleasanter than had been the +tramp under the sun. Before leaving he would look about. It was not +likely that he would ever again see a place which would dwell always in +his memory. + +As he neared the cave where the echo dwelt he saw the slender figure of +a woman. Her back was toward him, but the garb and mien proclaimed one, +not a permanent resident of the village. "One of mine host's guests," he +murmured, "a _gnädige Frau_ of artistic taste and economical practice." +He paused, unwilling to disturb feminine meditation. The stranger stood +at the entrance to the cave, on the spot where first he had seen the +girl who, later, had become the one woman in the world to him. There was +something in her attitude, bent head and arms hanging listless, that +interested, even moved him. She, too, looked like some lonely being, +saying a last farewell at a shrine where love had been born; and then, +as she strolled away, hidden by overhanging boughs of trees and the +slowly deepening evening shadows, he smiled at his conceit. + +He strolled on to where she had been standing, for, though he smiled +cynically at his foolishness, the spot was to him a sacred one. If +sentimental folly had brought him a thousand leagues, it might well +control a few steps more. + +As he reached the place he came face to face with another woman, whose +old but sharp eyes recognized him instantly. "Mr. Mark!" + +"Tabby!" He was so astonished that he could say no more for a moment. +Then he found words: "Was that Natalie?" + +Miss Cone, though slightly hysterical from pleasure and surprise, +explained that Natalie had just left her. "But what brings you here?" +she added. + +"Heaven or fate," was the answer. And then he was for following Natalie +at once. But Tabitha restrained him. "Let me prepare her," she urged, +and to that plea she found him willing to listen. + +Then she told him the story of their wanderings. They had brought +Leonard to Europe, principally for the voyage, which, however, had been +of no benefit. They had remained in Ireland, near Londonderry, where +they had first landed. He had never been able to move, but passed his +life in a wheeled chair. His mind had been that of an infant, though +before he died he seemed to have gleams of intelligence, and had once in +an old churchyard expressed a wish to be buried there, or so Natalie had +interpreted his babbling. And there he had slept for a year. "And so," +sobbed Tabitha, "the poor boy's weary life is over at last. God bless +him!" + +"Amen to that," said Mark. "Tabitha! It has been a grief to me, God +knows. So heavy a sorrow that I have thought I could not bear it; yet, +at this moment I can say that I am glad that Natalie forgave him and +cherished him till he died." + +Tabitha looked up. Her hard, worn old face was softened by her tears. +"Those words," she said, "will win her for you; if words can win the +heart already yours." + +At the appointed hour Tabitha led him to Natalie, who was waiting for +him. He could see the swaying of her form as she rose to greet him. He +took her in his arms. + +"My darling, my darling." He could say nothing else. Her arm had crept +upward about his neck; he held her close. + +"Why are you here?" he asked, at length, then added: "Bless God that you +are here." + +"To say good-bye to a place that has often been in my thoughts. And, +since heaven has permitted it, to say good-bye to you." + +"That you shall never say. I vow before God never to leave you. You and +I shall live our lives together, whatever your answer to the petition I +now make. Will you be my wife?" + +"Mark, I am not----" + +"Stop!" he said. "You once declared that as you loved me, so you honored +me. I now, with all solemnity, declare that you are honored as you are +loved by me. If I do not estimate the fault which you have expiated as +you do, I respect and admire the expiation. If you believe me to be a +truthful man, learn now that I approve your care of him who was your +husband. Let that suffice. And now, once more I swear that I will never +leave you. Will you be my wife?" + +"Mark, I love you." + +"Then the wedding bells shall ring, and Forellenbach shall rejoice." +Their lips met, and in the kiss they forgot the years that had passed +since last they saw Forellenbach. + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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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: Mr. Claghorn's Daughter + +Author: Hilary Trent + +Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35436] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>Mr. Claghorn's Daughter.</h1> + +<h2>BY HILARY TRENT.</h2> + + +<h3>Copyright, 1903, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company</h3> + +<h3>All Rights Reserved.</h3> + +<h3><span class="smcap">New York</span>:<br /> +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,<br /> +<span class="smcap">57 Rose Street</span>.</h3> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. A Philosopher and a Marchioness</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. Two Pagans Discuss Fish, Paris and the Higher Criticism</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. A Cousin in the Coils of the Great Serpent</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. The Diversions of the Claghorns</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. How a Pagan Philosopher Entered the Service of the Church</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. Art, Diplomacy, Love and Other Things</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. A Conference of Spinsters Concerning a Runaway Damsel</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. A Maiden Fair, a Modern Early Father and a Theologian</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. The Advantages of Treading the Borderland of Vice</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. A Youth of Promise, a Female Politician, and a Yellow Man</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. The Devil Walks To and Fro in Hampton</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. Her Eyes Grew Limpid and Her Cheeks Flushed Red</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. Whereat Cynics and Matrons May Smile Incredulous</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. In the White House—A Damsel or the Devil, Which?</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. Sur le Pont d'Avignon on y Danse, on y Danse</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. Warblings in the White House and Snares for a Soul</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. The Secret of Her Heart Was Never Told by Her to Him</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. A Lover Writes a Letter</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. A Kiss that Might Have Lingered on His Lips While Seeking Entrance +at the Gate of Heaven</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. A Dishonest Veiling of a Woman's Heart</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. A Man About to Meet a Maid</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. Man Walketh in a Vain Shadow</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. A Parson Treads the Primrose Path in Paris</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. To Him I will be Henceforth True in All Things</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. Mrs. Joe on Clerical Bumptiousness and Mrs. Fenton's Shoulders</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. Introduces Dr. Stanley, Satan and the Prayer Meeting of Matrons</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. The Music of the Chorus of the Anguish of the Damned</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. Cursing and Beating Her Breast, She Falls Upon the Grave</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. Dr. Stanley Discourses Concerning the Diversions of the Saints</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. Startling Effect of Dr. Burley's True Meaning</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. He Clasped Her Lithe Body with a Clutch of Fury</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. A Pæan of Victory Hymned in Hell</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. A Delectable Discussion in Which a Shakesperian Matron is Routed</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. When Manhood is Lost Woman's Time is Come</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. A Bottle of Champagne</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. She Cried Aloud She Was a Guilty Creature</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. A Golden Bridge for Passage Across an Abyss of Shame</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Ruins of Her Air Castles Lay Around Her</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. Voidable Vows of Turks (and Others)</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. Her Face Was the Mirror of Her Pleasant Dreams</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. Her Guilty Conscience Cried, "Behold Your Handiwork"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. I Will Never Leave Him, So Help Me God!</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. Money, Heaps of Money</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. Wedding Bells</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>Some readers of this novel will charge the author with the crime of +laying a sacrilegious hand upon the Ark of God; others will characterize +his work as an assault upon a windmill.</p> + +<p>I contend (and the fact, if it be a fact, is ample justification for +this book) that The Westminster Confession of Faith has driven many +honest souls to the gloom of unbelief, to the desperate need of a denial +of God; and that to-day a very large number of the adherents of that +Confession find it possible to maintain their faith in God only by +secret rejection of a creed they openly profess.</p> + +<p>Take from that Confession those Articles which give rise to the dilemma +which confronts the wife and mother of this story, and nothing is left. +The articles in question are the essential articles of the Confession.</p> + +<p>He who can in honesty say of The Westminster Confession of Faith: "This +is my standard: by this sign I shall conquer," he, and he only, has the +right to condemn my purpose.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Hilary Trent.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><span class="smcap">Mr. Claghorn's Daughter</span></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>A PHILOSOPHER AND A MARCHIONESS.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. (by preference Monsieur) Beverley Claghorn, of the Rue de la Paix, +Paris, was a personage of some note in that world in which he had lived +for many years. His slightly aquiline nose and well-pointed moustache, +his close-cropped grizzled hair, his gold-rimmed pince-nez, his hat, his +boots—his attire as a whole—successfully appealed to a refined taste. +The sapphire, encircled by tiny diamonds, which adorned his little +finger, beautiful to the common eye, was, in the eye of the connoisseur, +a rare and exquisite gem. Except as to an inch or two of stature, the +outward man of Monsieur Claghorn left nothing to be desired; while as to +his intellectual calibre, he to whom it was best known regarded it with +respect, even with admiration; his moral deportment had never occasioned +scandal; with the goods of this world he was liberally endowed. As a +philosopher (for he affected that character) he should have been a +contented man; being human, as philosophers must be, he was not. As +against the advantages indicated, Monsieur had grievances incompatible +with contentment. He was nearer sixty than forty, which was one cause of +sorrow; another was that, in spite of the effort of years, he had not in +fact become a Parisian. He had succeeded in approaching the type very +nearly; nevertheless, though his card might proclaim him "Monsieur" and +imply its owner to the Gallic manner born, the truth remained that he +was not so born. His language, by dint of effort, aided by native +talent, had become almost as easy and as idiomatic as the enunciations +of those who formed the world in which he dwelt, yet he was poignantly +aware that therein was still to be detected an echo of the twang of his +youth and of his native tongue. His surname, too, as a stumbling block +to his friends, was a source of vexation. Had he been born a Dobbins, a +mere apostrophe would have made him a d'Obbins and content. But the +uncompromising appellation of his ancestors refused to lend itself to a +fraud, though venial, and even ennobling, and thus remained a source of +repining; a gentle regret that his cognomen was not more fitting to his +environment. But as to his name received in baptism, therewith was +connected a grief so deep and a dread so great, that it was, perhaps, +the most baleful of his closeted skeletons. Fortune having so far +enabled Monsieur to hide the sorrow connected with his Christian name, +let us also leave the matter to fortune.</p> + +<p>To enumerate all the grievances of our philosopher would be a tedious +task, but there was one of such magnitude that it may be regarded as the +great grievance of his existence. This was Christianity.</p> + +<p>That earnest conviction of the truth of orthodox Christianity should +incite to propagandism is easily comprehensible. A reasonable sinner +will not complain of the believer's desire to save errant souls; indeed, +he may well be amazed that the believer engages in any other occupation. +But why the rage for proselytizing should inspire the non-believer is +less obvious. Why should the heathen rage because the zealot is deluded +by hope and his eyes deceived by the cheering illusions offered by +faith? If the rough road of the Christian wayfarer, its gloomy valleys +and dark caverns are smoothed and illumined by the cheering light of +conviction, why should the skeptic object, and beckon the fervent +pilgrim from his chosen path to that broader and more alluring road +selected by himself? Can it be that, like a boy who fears the coming +darkness, the skeptic craves companionship, suspecting hobgoblins after +sunset?</p> + +<p>Monsieur Claghorn was indignant that the world, as he knew it, either +professed a more or less orthodox belief in God, or cared nothing about +the matter. Both attitudes aroused his ire.</p> + +<p>"My dear Claghorn," urged his connexion, the Marquise de Fleury, "why +not leave these matters to Père Martin, as I do? I assure you it is +comforting," and the little matron shrugged her rather sharp +shoulder-blades and nestled more snugly in the corner of her blue-silk +sofa.</p> + +<p>"It is degrading to the intellect."</p> + +<p>"Ah! The intellect—I have none; I am all soul."</p> + +<p>"You—the brightest woman in Paris!"</p> + +<p>"Too broad, <i>mon ami</i>. Exaggeration destroys the delicate flavor of a +compliment."</p> + +<p>"Louise, you are in a bad humor. Evidently, you don't like your gown."</p> + +<p>"The gown is ravishing, as you should have seen before this. It is you, +my friend, who are angry. To what end? Angry at nothing? That is +foolish. Angry at something? Considering that that Something is God——"</p> + +<p>"There you have it,—fear. Women rule men through their passions; and +priests rule women through their fears."</p> + +<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> Have it so. You deny God. It is daring—splendid—but what +do you gain, what do you gain, <i>mon ami</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I deny your impossible God, and in so doing, I retain my self-respect."</p> + +<p>"A valuable possession, doubtless. Yet the fact remains that you fight +windmills, or you fight the power that loosens the hurricane. Futile +warfare!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. A woman's argument is rarely worthy the +attention of a philosopher.</p> + +<p>"Behold," continued the little Marquise, "behold Père Martin. He is +good; he is wise. What has he to gain? Only heaven. He sacrifices much +on earth—pleasure, dignity, power——"</p> + +<p>"He has more power than a king——"</p> + +<p>"Listen, my friend, and do not interrupt. If he has power over me and +such as I—which is what you mean—he uses it discreetly, kindly. I +enjoy life, I hope for heaven. You enjoy life, of heaven you have no +hope. Which of us is wise?"</p> + +<p>"You believe because you think it safer."</p> + +<p>"<i>Dame, mon ami!</i> It costs nothing."</p> + +<p>"It is cowardly."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my friend, I am a coward. Let us discuss something less +gruesome. This charming Natalie! You will let her come to me, now that +she is to leave the barbarians?"</p> + +<p>"I, too, am a coward. I fear Père Martin."</p> + +<p>"Believe me, my friend," said the Marquise, more seriously than she had +yet spoken, "you do wrong. Women need religion. They must adore; they +must sacrifice themselves to the object of their worship. As a rule they +have a choice. They may worship God or they may worship Love. To one or +the other they will devote themselves or miss their destiny. Which is +less dangerous?"</p> + +<p>"There is danger everywhere," replied the philosopher, discontentedly. +"But, indeed, Louise, this matter is more serious to me, the unbeliever, +than to you, the Christian. You Latins do not comprehend the reverence +we of a different race assign to principle. I think it wrong, immoral, +to expose my daughter to an atmosphere of falsehood."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, you are unjust to us Latins; and worse, you are impolite."</p> + +<p>"I am serious. I think Christianity the curse of mankind."</p> + +<p>"And you object to it. That is magnanimous."</p> + +<p>"Natalie has been left in total ignorance of all religion."</p> + +<p>"Charming—but hardly <i>de rigueur</i> for a de Fleury."</p> + +<p>"She is a Claghorn."</p> + +<p>"An excellent thing to be; enviable indeed, my dear,—in America. But +she will be a Parisienne; we hope a de Fleury, of a house by inheritance +religious. The wife of the Marquis de Fleury must uphold the family +traditions. Do you not see, my friend, that it is thirty generations of +nobles that insist."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Claghorn, though in doubt as to God, believed in the +generations. He had long looked forward to the time when his daughter +should be united to the last scion of this ancient race. True, the +title was in these days purely ornamental; but, though a philosopher, he +was not of that unwise class which can see no value in adornment. He +suspected that the noble Marquis, whose coronet he craved for his +daughter, as well as his mama, the little lady to whom he was talking, +were in truth as much interested in the material as in the spiritual +attributes of the future mother of the race, but he was also aware that +there were other influences to be considered.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Père Martin is even more insistent than the thirty +generations," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Even so, my friend; when Père Martin insists it is my conscience that +insists."</p> + +<p>"After all, Louise, this discussion is premature. Adolphe is still at +St. Cyr, Natalie at school——"</p> + +<p>"But to-day we prepare for to-morrow. Adolphe will soon be a lieutenant, +your daughter a woman. Let her come to me. Our prayers, those of Père +Martin and mine, cannot harm her."</p> + +<p>"Assuredly not, still——"</p> + +<p>"But my good pagan, do you intend to refuse? Is it worth nothing to your +daughter to be introduced by the Marquise de Fleury?"</p> + +<p>It was worth so much that M. Claghorn had no intention of refusing. "And +Adolphe?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Will remain at St. Cyr. Fear nothing, my friend. I shall do nothing in +that matter without consulting you."</p> + +<p>"You are always kind. It shall be as you wish." And then, after some +further indifferent conversation, the Marquise was by M. Claghorn handed +to her carriage for a promenade in the Bois; while the philosopher, +after that act of courtesy, left her to visit La Duchesne, a fashionable +seeress, who prophesied as to the course of stocks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>TWO PAGANS DISCUSS FISH, PARIS AND THE HIGHER CRITICISM.</h3> + + +<p>It was midsummer. The Marquise was in Brittany, Monsieur in Germany; or, +as Madame de Fleury patriotically expressed it, among the barbarians, he +having penetrated into barbaric wilds in order to reclaim his daughter, +whose education, for the past two years, had been progressing under +barbaric auspices.</p> + +<p>There is, not far from Heidelberg, and in that part of the country of +the barbarians known as the Odenwald, a quaint village called +Forellenbach; and hard by the village, which is clustered against a +steep hill-side, there dashes in cascades that foam and roar, a stream, +from the dark pools whereof are drawn trout, which, by the excellent +host of the Red-Ox are served hot, in a sauce compounded of white wine +and butter; and these things render the place forever memorable to him +who loves fish or scenery, or both.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Claghorn and his daughter were seated in the garden of the +Red-Ox. They had arrived at the inn in a carriage, being on their way to +Heidelberg. From Natalie's school they had journeyed by rail to Bad +Homburg; and from that resort, having despatched the girl's maid ahead +by train, they had commenced a mode of travel which Natalie secretly +hoped would not end as soon as had been originally anticipated; for the +trip thus far had been the most delightful experience of her life.</p> + +<p>There were reasons for this delight besides the joy derived from driving +in pleasant weather, over smooth roads, through curious villages, beside +winding rivers whose vineclad hills echoed the raftsman's song; beneath +the trees of many a forest, passing often the ruins of some grim keep, +which silently told to the girl its story of the time that, being past, +was a time of romance when life was more beautiful, more innocent, less +sordid than now. Not that Natalie knew much of the unpleasing features +of modern life, or of any life (else had her self-made pictures of other +days borne a different aspect), still the past had its attraction for +her, as it has for all that love to dream; and from her Baedeker she had +derived just enough information to form the basis of many a tender scene +that had never taken place, in days that never were or could have been. +Her dreams were not wholly of the past, but of the future as well; all +impossible and as charming as innocence and imagination could paint +them. School was behind her, her face toward France, a home fireside, +liberty and happiness for all time to come. No vision of the days in +which she had not lived could be more alluring than the visions of the +days in which she was to live, nor more delusive.</p> + +<p>Beverley Claghorn looking upon his daughter, perhaps, also saw a +visionary future. He loved her, of course. He respected her, too, for +had not her mother been of the ancient House of Fleury? It was no +ignoble blood which lent the damask tint to cheeks upon which he gazed +with complacent responsibility for their being. The precious fluid, +coursing beneath the fair skin, if carefully analyzed, should exhibit +corpuscles tinged with royal azure. For, was it not true that a +demoiselle of her mother's line had been, in ancient days, graciously +permitted to bear a son to a king of France, from which son a noble +House had sprung with the proud privilege of that bar sinister which +proclaimed its glory? These were facts well worthy to be the foundation +of a vision in which he saw the maid before him a wife of one of the old +noblesse; a mother of sons who would uphold the sacred cause of +Legitimacy, as their ancestors (including himself, for he was a furious +Legitimist) had done before them. It would solace the dreaded status of +grandfather.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking of, Natalie?" he asked in French.</p> + +<p>"Of many things; principally that I am sorry he showed them to us."</p> + +<p>"The trout?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am so hungry."</p> + +<p>"They have sharpened your appetite. They are beautiful fish."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad they haven't spoiled it. Why, papa, they were alive! Did you +see their gills palpitate?"</p> + +<p>"They are very dead now."</p> + +<p>"And we shall eat them. It seems a pity."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Grief will not prevent your enjoyment," he said; "you will +have a double luxury—of woe, and——"</p> + +<p>"You are ashamed of my capacity for eating, papa. It is very +unromantic."</p> + +<p>Papa smiled, raising his eyelids slightly. He seemed, and in fact was, a +little bored. "Haven't we had enough of this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"But we haven't had any yet."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean trout—I only hope they won't be drowned in bad butter—I +mean of this," and he lazily stretched his arms, indicating the +Odenwald.</p> + +<p>She sighed. Her secret hope that the journey by carriage might be +extended further than planned was waning. "I was never so happy in my +life," she exclaimed. "I shall never forget the pine-forests, the hills, +the castles; nor the geese in the villages; nor the horrible little +cobblestones——"</p> + +<p>"Nor the sour wine——"</p> + +<p>"That is your French taste, papa. The <i>vin du pays</i> is no better in +France. The wine is good enough, if you pay enough."</p> + +<p>"The Lützelsachser is drinkable, the Affenthaler even good," admitted +Monsieur, indulgent to barbaric vintage; "but think of yesterday!"</p> + +<p>"Think of an epicure who expected to get Affenthaler in that poor little +village! They gave you the best they had."</p> + +<p>"Which was very bad." He laughed good-naturedly. "I dread a similar +experience if we continue this method of travel."</p> + +<p>"I could travel this way forever and forever!" She sighed and extended +her arms, then clasped her hands upon her breast. It was an unaffected +gesture of youth and pleasure and enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>It made him smile. "Wait until you have seen Paris," he said.</p> + +<p>"But I have seen Paris."</p> + +<p>"With the eyes of a child; now you are a woman."</p> + +<p>"That is so," somewhat dreamily, as though this womanhood were no new +subject of reverie. "I am eighteen—but why should Paris be especially +attractive to a woman?"</p> + +<p>"Paris is the world."</p> + +<p>"And so is this."</p> + +<p>"This, my dear——" the remonstrance on his lips was interrupted by the +arrival of the fish.</p> + +<p>They were very good: "<i>Ravissant!</i>" exclaimed Natalie, who displayed a +very pitiless appreciation of them. "Not so bad," admitted papa.</p> + +<p>"And so I am to stay with my cousin, the Marquise," said the girl, after +the cravings of an excellent appetite had been satisfied. "Papa, even +you can find no fault with this Deidesheimer," filling her glass as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"With your cousin for a time, anyhow. It is very kind of her, and for +you nothing better could be wished. She sees the best world of Paris."</p> + +<p>"And as I remember, is personally very nice."</p> + +<p>"A charming woman—with a fault. She is devout."</p> + +<p>"I have known some like her," observed Natalie. "There was Fräulein +Rothe, our drawing-mistress, a dear old lady, but very religious."</p> + +<p>"I hope none of them attempted to influence you in such matters," he +said, frowning slightly.</p> + +<p>"No. It was understood that you had expressly forbidden it. I was left +out of the religious classes; they called me 'The Pagan.'"</p> + +<p>"No harm in that," commented Monsieur rather approvingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! It was all in good-nature. The Pagan was a favorite. But, of +course, I have had some curiosity. I have read a little of the Bible." +She made her confession shyly, as though anticipating reproach.</p> + +<p>"There is no objection to that," he said. "At your age you should have a +mind of your own. Use it and I have no fear as to the result. My view is +that in leaving you uninfluenced I have done my duty much more fully +than if I had early impressed upon you ideas which I think pernicious, +and which only the strongest minds can cast aside in later life. What +impression has your Bible reading left?"</p> + +<p>"The Jews of the Old Testament were savages, and their book is +unreadable for horrors. The Gospel narratives seem written by men of +another race. The character of Jesus is very noble. He must have lived, +for he could not have been invented by Jews. Of course, he was not God, +but I don't wonder that his followers thought so."</p> + +<p>"He was a Great Philosopher," answered Monsieur Claghorn with high +approval. "The incarnation of pure stoicism, realizing the ideal more +truly than even Seneca or Marcus. And what of the literary quality of +the book?"</p> + +<p>"The gospels are equal to the Vicar of Wakefield or Paul and Virginia. +As to the rest," she shrugged her shoulders after the French +fashion—"Revelation was written by a maniac."</p> + +<p>"Or a modern poet," observed the gentleman.</p> + +<p>Now while these latest exponents of the Higher Criticism were thus +complacently settling the literary standing of Luke and John, placing +them on as high a level as that attained by Goldsmith and St. Pierre, +the man smoking and the girl sipping wine (for the fish had been +devoured and their remains removed), two persons came into the garden. +They carried knapsacks and canes, wore heavy shoes, were dusty and +travel-stained. The elder of the pair had the clerical aspect; the youth +was simply a very handsome fellow of twenty or thereabout, somewhat +provincial in appearance.</p> + +<p>Beverley Claghorn glanced at the pair, and with an almost imperceptible +shrug of the shoulders, which, if it referred to the newcomers, was not +complimentary, continued to smoke without remark. The girl was more +curious.</p> + +<p>"They are English," she said.</p> + +<p>"Americans," he answered, with a faint shade of disapproval in his +tone.</p> + +<p>"But so are we," she remonstrated, noting the tone.</p> + +<p>"We can't help it," he replied, resenting one of his grievances. "You +can hardly be called one."</p> + +<p>"Is it disgraceful?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all; but I don't flaunt it."</p> + +<p>"But, papa, surely you are not ashamed of it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. But it is a little tiresome. Our countrymen are so +oppressively patriotic. They demand of you that you glory in your +nativity. I don't. I am not proud of it. I shouldn't be proud of being +an Englishman, or a Frenchman, or an Italian, or——"</p> + +<p>"In fact, papa, you are not proud at all."</p> + +<p>"Natalie," proceeded the philosopher, not noticing the interruption, +"one may be well-disposed toward the country of one's birth; one may +even recognize the duty of fighting, if need be, for its institutions. +But the pretence of believing in one's country, of fulsome adoration for +imperfect institutions, is to welcome intellectual slavery, to surrender +to the base instinct of fetichism."</p> + +<p>"Like religion," she said, recognizing the phrase.</p> + +<p>"Like religion," he assented. "You will find when you are as old as I am +that I am right."</p> + +<p>"Yet people do believe in religion. There's Fräulein Rothe——"</p> + +<p>"Natalie, no reasoning being can believe what is called Christianity, +but many beings think that they believe."</p> + +<p>"But why don't they discover that they don't think what they think they +think?"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing strange in that. When they were young they were told +that they believed, and have grown up with that conviction. The same +people would scorn to accept a new and incredible story on the evidence +which is presented in favor of the Christian religion."</p> + +<p>The girl sighed as though the paternal wisdom was somewhat +unsatisfactory. Meantime the slight raising of Monsieur's voice had +attracted the attention of the dusty wayfarers who, in default of other +occupation, took to observing the pair.</p> + +<p>"She is very pretty," said the youth.</p> + +<p>The elder did not answer. He was intently scrutinizing Beverley +Claghorn. After a moment of hesitation he surprised his companion by +rising and approaching that person with outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"I cannot be mistaken," he exclaimed in a loud, hearty voice. "This is a +Claghorn."</p> + +<p>"That is my name," replied the would-be Gallic owner of the appellation +in English. "I have the honor of seeing——" but even as he uttered the +words he recognized the man who was now shaking a somewhat reluctant +hand with gushing heartiness.</p> + +<p>"I am Jared. You remember me, of course. I see it in your eyes. And so +this is really you—Eliphalet! 'Liph, as we called you at the old Sem. +'Liph, I am as glad to see you as a mother a long-lost son."</p> + +<p>"And I," replied the other, "am charmed." He bore it smiling, though his +daughter looked on in wonder, and he felt that the secret of his baptism +had been heartlessly disclosed.</p> + +<p>"This," said Jared, "is my son, Leonard," and while the son grew red and +bowed, the clergyman looked at the girl to whom his son's bow had been +principally directed.</p> + +<p>"My daughter, Natalie de Fleury-Claghorn," said her father. "My dear, +this is my cousin, Professor Claghorn, whom I have not seen for many +years."</p> + +<p>"Not since we were students together at Hampton Theological Seminary," +added Jared, smilingly. He habitually indulged in a broad smile that +indicated satisfaction with things as he found them. It was very broad +now, as he offered his hand, saying, "And so you are 'Liph's daughter, +and your name is Natalidaflurry—that must be French. And your mother, +my dear, I hope——"</p> + +<p>"My wife has been dead since my daughter's birth," interrupted Monsieur, +"and I," he added, "long ago discarded my baptismal name and assumed +that of my mother."</p> + +<p>"Discarded the old name!" exclaimed the Reverend Jared, surprised. "Had +I been aware of that, I surely would have given it to Leonard. I +regarded it, as in some sort, the property of the elder branch. Surely, +you don't call yourself Susan?"</p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Susan Beverley; I assumed her family name." The +philosopher uttered the words with a suavity that did him credit. Then, +apologetically, and in deference to his cousin's evident grief: "You +see, Eliphalet was somewhat of a mouthful for Frenchmen."</p> + +<p>"And so the old name has fallen into disuse," murmured Jared +regretfully. "We must revive it. Leonard, upon you——"</p> + +<p>But Leonard had taken Natalie to look at the cascades.</p> + +<p>So, lighting fresh cigars, the two former fellow-students commenced a +revival of old memories. Their discourse, especially on the part of the +clergyman, contained frequent allusion to family history, which to the +reader would be both uninteresting and incomprehensible. But, since some +knowledge of that history is requisite to the due understanding of the +tale that is to be told, the respected personage indicated is now +invited to partake of that knowledge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>A COUSIN IN THE COILS OF THE GREAT SERPENT.</h3> + + +<p>Professor and the Reverend Jared Claghorn has already intimated that the +name Eliphalet was an honored one in the family. An Eliphalet Claghorn +had been a man of mark among the Pilgrims. His eldest son had borne his +parent's name and had succeeded to the clerical vocation; an example +which he had imposed upon his own first-born, and thus became +established the custom of giving to a son of each Eliphalet the name of +his father, in the pleasing hope that he who bore the revered +appellation might be called to serve in the Lord's fold, as shepherd of +the flock; which hope had generally been realized. In due course that +Eliphalet who was destined to beget Beverley had been called, had +answered the summons, and at the birth of his only son, had, with +confident expectation of a similar call to the latter, named his name +"Eliphalet."</p> + +<p>In time the call was heard. The youth, fully assured that he, like the +ancestral Eliphalets, would find his field of labor in the vineyard of +God, had gone so far in acceptance of his solemn duty as to enter the +well-known Theological Seminary at Hampton, there to fit himself for the +only future he had ever contemplated.</p> + +<p>Then a shock had come,—a great legacy from one of two California +brothers, both long given up as dead. From the moment this fortune came +into his possession, the father of Beverley Claghorn, always a stern and +gloomy man, the product of a ruthless creed, knew no day of peace. He +craved worldly distinction—not the pleasures which beckoned his +son—with a craving which only a starved nature with powers fitting to +the world can know. On the other hand, a rigid sense of duty, perhaps, +too, the gloomy joy of martyrdom, urged him to reject a temptation which +he persuaded himself was offered by the Prince of Darkness. He remained +outwardly true to his duty, an unhappy soldier at the post assigned +him, and died as his fathers had died, in the odor of sanctity; in his +heart hankering to the last for the joys offered by the world to him who +has wealth, and to the last sternly rejecting them.</p> + +<p>Secretly, though with bitter self-condemnation, he had approved his +son's renunciation of the theological course. Not with his lips. It was +impossible for him, stubbornly believing, as he had always believed, +though now with the frequent doubts and fears of the new standpoint he +occupied, to openly approve the intentions displayed by the youth. Yet +he acquiesced in silence, secretly hoping to see the son, who had +commenced the study of the law, a power in the State. That he was never +to see, and it was well that he died before the renegade Eliphalet had +extinguished such hope by voluntary exile.</p> + +<p>Beverley's history, or at least that portion of it which he chose to +impart, was told in reply to the eager questioning of Jared. Perhaps he +was not sorry that his old fellow-student should note his air of man of +fashion and aristocrat, and he set forth the renown of the de Fleury +lineage, innocently shocking his cousin by explaining the meaning and +glory of that bar sinister, which he himself revered.</p> + +<p>Jared, on his part, narrated at much greater length than his auditor +sympathetically appreciated, the history of his own life. He, too, had +married brilliantly—a Morley, as he informed his cousin, and one who, +dying, had left him well endowed with this world's goods, and it may be +that it was by reason of this fact, as well as because of superior +attainments, that the speaker had developed into a teacher in that same +seminary where the two had been fellow-students.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said in a tone of satisfaction, "I hold down the chair of +Biblical Theology in Hampton. You would hardly recognize the old Sem, +El—Beverley."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. I shall make a flying trip there some day."</p> + +<p>"A flying trip! Surely you don't intend to abandon your country +forever?"</p> + +<p>"Not unlikely. You see, I am more of a Frenchman than anything else, and +my daughter is quite French."</p> + +<p>"She speaks English?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that, as well as anybody. She has been largely educated in +England. But her relatives, I mean those that she knows, look upon her +as belonging wholly to them, and——"</p> + +<p>"I trust she is not a Romanist, Cousin."</p> + +<p>"You mean a Catholic. Make your mind easy; she is not."</p> + +<p>"I truly rejoice to hear it," exclaimed Jared with fervor. "But I might +have known," he added apologetically, "that a Claghorn would not suffer +the perversion of his child." Whereat Monsieur changed the topic.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the young ones of the party had gone to investigate an echo +in a glen hard by, directed thereto by the host of the Red-Ox. They were +conducted by a stolid maiden, told off for that purpose, a fact which +Monsieur Claghorn, from his place in the garden, noted with +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Freed from the restraint of the presence of the philosopher, whose +raiment and bearing had inspired him with awe, Leonard's engaging +simplicity and frank manner added to the favorable impression of his +beautiful face.</p> + +<p>The charms of nature about them were attractive to both and it was easy +to become acquainted, with so much of interest in common. The girl's +enthusiasm, somewhat dampened by the philosopher, returned in the +presence of a sympathetic listener, and she told the tale of their +wanderings, concluding by expressing the opinion that Germany must be +the most delightful of all countries.</p> + +<p>"This part is fine," said Leonard. "But wait until you see the Black +Forest."</p> + +<p>"I hope to see it when we leave Heidelberg. Is the wine good?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," was the answer. "I didn't drink any wine."</p> + +<p>"It must be very bad if you wouldn't drink it," she observed +despondently. "Papa scolds about the wine of the Bergstrasse, which, for +my part, I find very good. Then, at the better inns one isn't confined +to the vintage of the neighborhood."</p> + +<p>"Surely, you don't drink wine!" exclaimed Leonard.</p> + +<p>"Not drink wine! What should I do with it?"</p> + +<p>"It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder," he quoted +gravely, not at all priggishly. He was sincere in his confidence in +Solomon, and his surprise and sorrow were honest.</p> + +<p>"Wine does!" she laughed. "I never knew that before. Don't Americans +drink wine?"</p> + +<p>"Some do," he admitted. "Our best people do not drink. We think the +example bad."</p> + +<p>"<i>Par example!</i> And how do your best people manage at dinner?"</p> + +<p>"With water."</p> + +<p>"Decidedly, I should not like dining with your best people."</p> + +<p>"But, Cousin Natalie—that is a very pretty name;" here he blushed +engagingly—"wine makes one drunk."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, if one gets drunk."</p> + +<p>"Then, how can you drink wine?"</p> + +<p>The question and the serious manner of its asking were incomprehensible +to the girl, who laughed at the incongruity of the ideas suggested by +drinking wine on the one hand, and getting drunk on the other. Then the +subject was dropped; perhaps they recognized that it was enveloped in +clouds of misunderstanding which were impenetrable.</p> + +<p>The glen in which dwells the echo of Forellenbach is like a roofless +cave, or a great well with a side entrance. Its floor being wet, Natalie +remained at the entrance, trusting there to hear whatever might be worth +hearing. Leonard passed into the well.</p> + +<p>He looked back. She stood in the light, smiling upon this new-found +cousin, who had such strange ideas as to wine, but withal, her eyes were +kindly. If either had any premonition of the future, it must have been +false or partial, or they had not faced each other smiling. He had +intended to shout aloud her pretty name and thus to test the echo; but +instinct warned him that this was hardly fitting. So, perhaps, with a +vague desire to connect her with the trial, he compromised, and the word +he shouted was "Claghorn."</p> + +<p>It was returned to him in various modulations from all sides. The +effect was startling, but even more so were the words that fell upon his +ear as the echoes died away: "Who are you, and what do you want?"</p> + +<p>The question came from above. Leonard, looking upward, saw the face of a +youth who, from the top of the cliff, was peering down. Upon the head of +this person, rakishly worn, was a blue cap, braided with silver and red +velvet. The face had penetrating eyes, rather stern, and a mouth shaded +by a dark moustache. The question was repeated, it seemed to Leonard +truculently: "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>The words were German, but easily understood. Leonard answered in +English: "I don't want you."</p> + +<p>"Then, why did you call me?" Now the words were English and the tone +awakened Leonard's resentment. "Do you suppose that every one that tries +the echo is calling you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You called me. Why?"</p> + +<p>Leonard labored under the disadvantage of hearing all that was said +repeated many times. It was irritating; nor was the tone of the other +pacific. It was even war-like. "I didn't address you," he said. "I do +now: Be silent!"</p> + +<p>The other laughed. "<i>Bist ein dummer Junge</i>, my son," he said. "I +suppose you are a student. Get your card."</p> + +<p>He disappeared, evidently with a view of intercepting Leonard who, +emerging from the cave, met him almost at Natalie's side.</p> + +<p>The newcomer was surprised to see the girl. "I beg your pardon," he +said, removing his cap; then, aside to Leonard: "I will accept your card +on another occasion, if you prefer. You are a student of Heidelberg, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I am a student, certainly, of Hampton, in the United States. I have no +card. My name is Claghorn."</p> + +<p>The sternness of the newcomer gave place to astonishment. "I beg your +pardon, and your sister's," he said, glancing at Natalie. "My name +happens to be the same. Naturally, I supposed——"</p> + +<p>"The place seems to be alive with Claghorns," exclaimed Leonard.</p> + +<p>"And since you are from Hampton, I believe we are related," continued +the newcomer. "Cousins, I suppose. You can't be Professor Claghorn?"</p> + +<p>"I can be, and am, his son," laughed Leonard. "You are the third cousin +I have found to-day."</p> + +<p>By this time the two elders had joined the party. Monsieur Claghorn had +deemed it advisable, for his daughter's sake, to follow her footsteps. +The Reverend Jared, accompanying him, heard Leonard's words. "A cousin!" +he exclaimed, looking inquiringly at the stranger who made the claim, +and ready gushingly to welcome him.</p> + +<p>"I think so," answered the stranger, smiling. "My father was Joseph +Claghorn, of San Francisco."</p> + +<p>"He's your first cousin, 'Liph," exclaimed the Reverend Jared, +hesitating no longer, but grasping the unoffered hand of the son of +Joseph. Then he added in an awestruck voice, "You must be the owner of +the Great Serpent?"</p> + +<p>"I am in its coils," replied the young man with a half sigh.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful!" ejaculated Jared, and then glibly plunged into a +genealogical disquisition for the general benefit, the result of which +was that Claghorn, the son of Joseph, and in the coils of the Great +Serpent, stood demonstrated as the first cousin of Beverley, the second +of Natalie, the third of himself and the fourth of Leonard. The +professorial fluency had the good effect of creating enough hilarity to +dissipate constraint; and its cordiality embraced all present in a +circle of amity, whether they would or not.</p> + +<p>But there was no indication of reluctance to cousinly recognition. +Monsieur saw sufficient comedy in the situation to amuse him, nor was he +oblivious of the fascinations of the Great Serpent, which reptile was a +mine, known by repute to all present, and the source of Monsieur's +wealth, for that inheritance that had changed the course of his life had +been thence derived. The dead brother of the now dead Eliphalet had left +his share of the mine to Joseph, his partner, but had divided his +savings between Eliphalet and a sister, Achsah by name. The son of +Joseph, and owner of the Great Serpent, must be in the eyes of anybody +the acceptable person he was in the eyes of Monsieur Claghorn, the more +so as he was thoroughly presentable, being handsome, well dressed, and +with rather more of the air of a man of the world than was usual in one +of his years, which might be twenty-one.</p> + +<p>"We have not learned your Christian name," said Jared, after +acquaintance had been established and the youth had been duly informed +of much family history. "I hope your parents named you Eliphalet," +glancing, not without reproach, at the actual owner of that appellation.</p> + +<p>"They spared me that infliction," answered the newcomer, laughing, +"though they hit me pretty hard. My name is Mark"; then, perhaps noting +the faint flush upon the cheek of one of the members of the group, "I +beg pardon; I should have been more respectful of a respectable family +name, which may be borne by some one of you."</p> + +<p>"Nobody bears it; you are to be congratulated," observed Monsieur +firmly. The Reverend Jared looked grieved, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>Mark Claghorn informed his auditors—there was no escaping the +examination of the Professor—that he was a student at Heidelberg, that +his mother sojourned there with him, that she was a widow, with an +adopted daughter, a distant connexion, named Paula; and having learned +that the entire party was bound for that city he expressed the hope that +all these wandering offshoots of the Claghorn family might there meet +and become better acquainted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE DIVERSIONS OF THE CLAGHORNS.</h3> + + +<p>A good-humored widow, fair, and if mature, not old, and with the +allurement of the possession of boundless wealth; two lovely maids; a +brace of well-disposed young men, of whom one was strikingly beautiful +and guileless, the other less comely as less innocent, yet in these +respects not deficient, and the heir of millions; finally, a genial +theologian and a philosopher, summer and Heidelberg—given these +components and it must be confessed that the impromptu reunion of the +Claghorns promised present enjoyment and gratifying memories for the +future. The various members of the clan acted as if they so believed and +were content. There were moments, indeed, when the genial Jared was +moved to bewail the absence of Miss Achsah Claghorn, as being the only +notable member of the family not present. The philosopher admitted a +youthful acquaintance with the lady in question, who was his aunt, and +echoed the Professor's eulogy, but evinced resignation. To the others, +except to Leonard, who had evidently been taught to revere Miss Achsah, +she was personally unknown, hence the loss occasioned by her absence was +by them unfelt.</p> + +<p>"She is greatly exercised just now," observed Jared, "by an event which +possesses interest for all of us, and which ought to especially interest +you, 'Liph."</p> + +<p>"Salvation for the heathen by means of moral pocket handkerchiefs?" +drawled the philosopher, secretly annoyed by the clergyman's persistent +use of his discarded Christian name.</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> says a sacrilegious scheme; nothing short of the desecration of +your namesake's grave," retorted the Professor.</p> + +<p>The party was grouped on the great terrace of the castle, against the +balustrade of which the clergyman leaned as he addressed his audience +with somewhat of the air of a lecturer, an aspect which was emphasized +by his use of a letter which he had drawn from his pocket, and to which +he pointed with his long forefinger.</p> + +<p>"You are all doubtless aware," he observed, "that Miss Achsah is the +sister of the late Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn, father of our cousin and +friend here present" (indicating Monsieur, who bowed to the speaker), +"and, as the sister of your deceased husband, Mrs. Joseph, she is your +sister-in-law."</p> + +<p>The lady smilingly assented to a proposition indisputable, and which +probably contained no element of novelty to her; while Jared informed +Mark and Natalie that the writer of the letter in his hand was aunt to +the youth and great-aunt to the maiden. "She is also cousin to me, and +in a further remove to Leonard," and having thus defined the status of +Miss Claghorn, he proceeded to explain that he had reminded his hearers +of the facts for the reason that the matter concerning which the lady's +letter treated was of interest to all present, "except to you, my dear," +he added sympathizingly to Paula, "you not being a Claghorn."</p> + +<p>"We compassionate you, Mademoiselle," observed the philosopher to the +damsel, "and I am sure," he added in a lower tone, "you are sorry for +us." To which, Paula, who did not quite understand the philosopher, +responded only with a smile and a blush.</p> + +<p>"Miss Achsah's letter," continued the Professor, ignoring the by-play, +and addressing Mrs. Joe, is dated two months since, and runs thus:</p> + +<p>"'I wrote in my last of the strange events taking place in Easthampton. +At that time there were only rumors; now there are facts to go upon. The +tract given by our ancestor to the Lord is at this moment the property +of a New York lawyer. You know that I long ago tried to buy the tomb and +was refused. The trustees assure me that it will not be desecrated, that +the purchaser promised of his own accord that the sacred dust should not +be disturbed. I told them that they might advantageously take lessons in +reverence from the lawyer, so there is a coolness between the trustees +and myself.' (I am really very sorry for that," muttered the reader +parenthetically)——</p> + +<p>"As I understand," interrupted Mrs. Joe, "the land was owned by the +Seminary, and the Seminary which is now in Hampton was to have been +built upon it. Is that what my sister-in-law means by saying it was +given to the Lord?"</p> + +<p>"Her view is not exactly correct," replied the Professor. "I am myself +one of the trustees. Possibly, Eliphalet Claghorn hoped that the +Seminary would eventually be erected upon the land he gave toward its +foundation. Evidently his successors, the fathers of the church, +preferred Hampton to Easthampton."</p> + +<p>"In those days Easthampton was a busy mart of trade—they <i>do</i> say the +slave trade," observed the philosopher. "Hampton, as a secluded village, +not liable to incursions of enslaved heathen, godless sailors or godly +traders, was better fitted for pious and scholastic meditation, and——"</p> + +<p>"Now the conditions are reversed," interrupted Jared; "Hampton is a +considerable city, Easthampton a quiet suburb."</p> + +<p>"Does Miss Achsah say what the lawyer intends to do with his purchase?" +asked Mrs. Joe.</p> + +<p>"No doubt he represents a concealed principal," suggested the +philosopher, "probably a rival institution—a Jesuit College."</p> + +<p>Jared turned pale. "You don't really suppose, 'Liph—but, no! I am sure +my co-trustees could not be taken in."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe cast a reproachful glance at the philosopher. "Miss Achsah +would surely have detected a Jesuit plot had there been one," she +observed encouragingly. "But why is she so indignant?"</p> + +<p>"She has long wanted to purchase the ground about the tomb," replied +Jared. "Naturally, she feels aggrieved that it will come into the hands +of a stranger. The trustees, to my knowledge, tried to retain it, with +the rest of the waste ground, and to sell only the old wharves and +houses, but the lawyer insisted; in fact, paid a high price for the +waste land which includes the grave."</p> + +<p>"Mysterious, if not Jesuitical," murmured Beverley; but the clergyman +affected not to hear.</p> + +<p>"Has Miss Achsah no knowledge of the intentions of the purchaser?" asked +the lady.</p> + +<p>"This is what she says," answered the Professor, consulting the letter:</p> + +<p>"'The trustees conceal the purpose for which the land is wanted, but I +forced the information from Hacket when I informed him that, if I so +desired, I could give the management of my affairs to young Burley. At +this, Mr. Hacket came down from his high horse and informed me in +confidence that the lawyer is to build a grand residence at the Point, +and will spend an immense amount of money. All of which is not +reassuring, if true. Although the place has been shamefully neglected, I +was always glad to know that the Tomb was there, solitary amid the +crags; only the sea-roar breaking the silence. I suppose there will be +other sounds now, not so pleasant to think about.'"</p> + +<p>"Well," observed Mrs. Joe, after a pause, "let us hope that Miss Achsah +will be reconciled after the lawyer's plans are more fully developed. He +seems to be willing to respect the tomb."</p> + +<p>"What is this tomb?" asked Natalie.</p> + +<p>"The Tomb of Eliphalet Claghorn, the first of your race in the New +World," explained the Professor reverently, and not without a +reproachful glance at the philosopher, who had too evidently left his +daughter in ignorance of much family history.</p> + +<p>"He came over in the Mayflower," observed Leonard in a low tone to +Natalie; and then, to his surprise, found it necessary to explain his +explanation, for which purpose, in company with the girl he strolled +away.</p> + +<p>They paused at a little distance, and leaning upon the stone balustrade, +looked down upon the town or at the plain beyond, or across the Neckar +at the hills of the Philosophenweg. Here Leonard told his foreign cousin +the story of the first Eliphalet.</p> + +<p>"A strange story," was her comment.</p> + +<p>"A noble story," he corrected.</p> + +<p>"All sacrifice is noble. I know a woman in extreme poverty who gave ten +francs to regild a tawdry statue of the Virgin."</p> + +<p>"Deplorable!" exclaimed Leonard severely.</p> + +<p>"Pitiful, rather. Consider what the sum was to her! The needs she +sacrificed—and for what?"</p> + +<p>"Sacrifice wasted, and degradingly wasted."</p> + +<p>"Wasted, doubtless; but why degradingly?"</p> + +<p>"Granted that your poor woman was sincere"—which, however, the speaker +seemed to grant but grudgingly—"the sacrifice was still degrading in +that it was made to superstition."</p> + +<p>She smiled. "What would my poor woman say of Grandfather Eliphalet?"</p> + +<p>"It's a question, you see, of the point of view," observed Mark, who had +sauntered to where they stood.</p> + +<p>"It's a question of truth and falsehood," retorted Leonard a little +stiffly, and not best pleased with the interruption of the tête-à-tête.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the truth?"</p> + +<p>"God is truth."</p> + +<p>"A truly theological elucidation," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Cousin Natalie?" asked Leonard wistfully.</p> + +<p>She had been gazing across the plain at the towers of Ladenburg, +gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. "Can anybody say?" she +answered. "Look at the plain," she added, stretching forth her hand, +"these battered walls, the city at our feet. How often have they been +scorched by fire and soaked in blood; and always in the cause of that +truth which so many said was false!"</p> + +<p>"Rather, because of the schemes of ambitious men," said Leonard.</p> + +<p>"The pretext was always religion. Priests always the instigators of the +wars," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Priests, yes, I grant you——"</p> + +<p>"I include those of the Reformation. The bloodiest history of this place +is its history since the Reformation. The source of its horrors was +religion, always religion."</p> + +<p>"For which reason," retorted Leonard, "you would blame religion, rather +than the men who made it a cloak to ambition."</p> + +<p>"One asks: What is religion?" said Natalie. "Catholics say of Frederick, +who reigned here, that he was led by ambition to his fall; Protestants, +that he fell a glorious sacrifice in the cause of truth. Who shall +judge?"</p> + +<p>"False ideas of duty lead to perdition," said Leonard sententiously.</p> + +<p>"Which would seem to demonstrate that Frederick was in the wrong," +observed Mark. "That may be so, but it hardly lies in the mouth of a +student of Hampton."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know that Frederick was the Protestant champion," said +Leonard, annoyed; "but——"</p> + +<p>"Yet he lost his cause! How can one know—how do you know the truth?" +The girl looked up with an eager expression as she asked the question.</p> + +<p>"I know because I feel it," he answered in a low tone. They were solemn +words to him, and as he uttered them a longing to show truth to this +fair maid arose within him.</p> + +<p>"And if one does not know, one cannot feel," murmured Natalie sadly. +"Catholics, Jews, Protestants, all feel and all know——"</p> + +<p>"That the others are all wrong," interjected Mark.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the others of the party were approaching, the Professor +expatiating to Paula anent the glories of the Claghorn race; not such +glories, as he pointed out, as those of which they saw the evidences in +the effigies of warriors and carved armorial bearings; but higher +glories, humble deeds on earth, of which the story illuminated the +celestial record. The dissertation had been commenced for the general +weal, but the widow and the philosopher had gradually dropped behind, +leaving Paula alone to derive benefit from the lessons drawn by Cousin +Jared from the Claghorn history as contrasted with that of the rulers of +the Palatinate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>HOW A PAGAN PHILOSOPHER ENTERED THE SERVICE OF THE CHURCH.</h3> + + +<p>"I fear you do not sympathize with Miss Achsah," observed the widow to +her companion.</p> + +<p>"In her solicitude for the tomb of Grandfather Eliphalet? No. Reverence +for my ancestor has diminished with age; my excellent aunt, as befits a +lady, remains ever young and romantic."</p> + +<p>"She ought to appreciate the lawyer's declared intention to respect the +grave."</p> + +<p>"Handsome of the lawyer, who, <i>du reste</i>, seems an anomaly."</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"He pays an extravagant price for a dreary desert. He volunteers to keep +a stranger's tomb in repair——"</p> + +<p>"Suppose I were to tell you that I am the lawyer who is to build the +handsome residence."</p> + +<p>"I should feel honored by your confidence, and unreservedly put my trust +in your motives, because they are yours."</p> + +<p>"But you are not surprised?"</p> + +<p>"Rather deeply interested, and no less solicitous."</p> + +<p>"Why solicitous?"</p> + +<p>"Because of the incongruity you present as a resident of Easthampton. +That little town is not merely the sepulchre of Eliphalet Claghorn, but +the grave of mirth and the social graces. Can I contemplate the +possibility of your interment without sorrow?"</p> + +<p>The gentleman's tone had lapsed into tenderness; the lady smiled. "I +believe you have not seen the place for many years," she said.</p> + +<p>"Nothing has prevented my doing so except my recollection of its +attractions."</p> + +<p>"The ground I intend for a residence," said the lady, "has great +natural advantages. It faces the ocean, has noble trees——"</p> + +<p>"And crags and boulders, a most desolate spot."</p> + +<p>"Which a handsome house will adorn and make beautiful. We must live +somewhere. If we leave California, what better place can we choose than +the old home of my son's race, where his name has been honored for +generations? In that region he will not be a new man."</p> + +<p>"An old one, assuredly, if he remains there. But he will flee from the +home of his ancestors. The place is sunk in somnolence; one of those +country towns that the world has been glad to forget. Rotting wharves, a +few tumbledown warehouses, and three or four streets, shaded by trees so +big that even the white houses with their green blinds look gloomy."</p> + +<p>"The wharves and warehouses are mine, and are to be pulled down. I like +the shady streets and the white houses."</p> + +<p>"And their inmates?" The philosopher shuddered.</p> + +<p>"The Claghorn paragon, Miss Achsah, lives in one of them."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Miss Achsah! You do not know Miss Achsah; she superintended my +boyhood."</p> + +<p>"The result is a tribute to her excellence."</p> + +<p>The gentleman bowed. "She is a good woman—the personification of Roman +virtue, adorned with the graces of Calvinism—but, my dear Cousin" (the +lady was his aunt, if anything), "I put it to you. Is not personified +virtue most admirable at a distance?"</p> + +<p>The lady laughed. "Possibly. But I do not expect to be reduced to +virtuous society only, even if I am fortunate enough to prove acceptable +in the eyes of Miss Claghorn. Our Professor assures me that the Hampton +circle is most agreeable; and Hampton and Easthampton are practically +one."</p> + +<p>"And what a one!" The philosopher shrugged his shoulders in true Gallic +fashion. "Madame, Hampton is the home of theology—and such theology! It +is filled with musty professors, their musty wives and awkward and +conceited boys, in training to become awkward and conceited men. +Remember, I was one of the horde and know whereof I speak. Think +seriously, my dear Cousin, before you expose so beautiful a girl as +Mademoiselle Paula, not to speak of yourself, to such an environment."</p> + +<p>The lady remained unmoved, though the gentleman had pleaded eloquently. +"You are prejudiced," she answered. "Confess that there is no more +agreeable man than our Cousin Jared; and if his son is a fair specimen +of Hampton students, they must compare favorably with any others."</p> + +<p>"Which would not be saying much. Jared is, doubtless, a good fellow, +amenable once, but now encrusted with frightfully narrow views. As to +young Leonard, his extraordinary good looks and amiability render him +exceptional. It is really a pity that he can't be rescued," and the +speaker sighed.</p> + +<p>A sigh born of a sincere sentiment. Monsieur was at bottom good-natured, +and it affected him disagreeably to see unusual graces doomed to a +pulpit or a professorial chair. It was a sad waste of advantages fitted +for better things. To dedicate to Heaven charms so apt for the world, +seemed to him foolish, and to the devotee unfair. He felt as may feel a +generous beauty whose day is past, and who contemplates some blooming +maid about to enter a nunnery. "Ah! <i>Si la jeunesse savait</i>," he +murmured.</p> + +<p>"You will not resolve without deliberation," he pleaded, having rendered +to Leonard's fate the passing tribute of a sigh. "I dare not venture to +beg you to wait until after your winter in Paris, but——"</p> + +<p>"But, Monsieur, my resolve is fixed, though known only to you. Work is +already commenced. But I must request you to keep the secret from all, +including my son. I wish to surprise him."</p> + +<p>"Your success is certain. It would be presumptuous to further combat +your plans; especially"—with a graceful inclination—"since you disarm +me by honoring me with your confidence."</p> + +<p>"I have a reason for that," she said frankly. "I want your aid."</p> + +<p>"In self-immolation! Even in that I am at your service."</p> + +<p>"My purpose can be explained in a few words," she said, indicating a +chair near the balustrade, into which the philosopher gracefully sank, +after bowing the lady into one beside it. "I wish to build a grand +house. My son's importance in the world is an attribute of his wealth. +This is not a fact to flaunt, but is to be considered, and one by which +I am bound to be influenced in contemplating his future."</p> + +<p>"A great aid, Madame, in right conduct."</p> + +<p>"My son will find it a great responsibility."</p> + +<p>"Inheriting, as he does, your sense of duty," suggested the philosopher.</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Now, I have planned a career for Mark."</p> + +<p>There was a faint movement as of a fleeting smile behind Monsieur's +well-trimmed moustache. The sharp-eyed lady noticed it, but was not +disconcerted.</p> + +<p>"I recognize the possibility of my plans coming to naught," she said. +"That need not prevent my attempt to realize them. I see but one career +open to my son; he must become a statesman."</p> + +<p>"In Easthampton?"</p> + +<p>"In the United States. It is his country. Pardon me," seeing him about +to interpose. "It is not on this point I ask the aid you are willing to +accord. That refers to my contemplated operations in Easthampton. It +happens, however, that my son's future will depend, in no small measure, +upon the enterprises in question. His great need will be identification +with local interests, to which end a fixed habitation is necessary. I +wish to build a house which will attract attention. To put it bluntly, I +intend to advertise my son by means of my house."</p> + +<p>"You will extort the sympathetic admiration of your compatriots."</p> + +<p>"I shall not be as frank with them as with you. You will know that mere +display is not my object."</p> + +<p>"Yours merits admiration, even while it extorts regret."</p> + +<p>"And now you see why Easthampton is peculiarly adapted to the end in +view. No man can point to Mark Claghorn and ask, 'Who is he?' His name +was carved in that region two centuries since."</p> + +<p>"But you and your son are, I believe, liberal in your religious views. +The Claghorns——"</p> + +<p>"Have always kept the faith—with one notable exception"—the +philosopher bowed acceptance of the compliment—"but I object to being +called liberal, as you define the term; we are Catholics, that is to +say, Anglicans."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" muttered the philosopher dubiously.</p> + +<p>"And I intend," pursued the lady, "to proclaim my creed by an act which +I know is daring, but which will have the advantage of rooting my son +and his descendants in the soil of Easthampton. I intend to build, to +the memory of my husband, a High-Church chapel, a work of art that shall +be unequalled in the country."</p> + +<p>"Daring, indeed! Rash——"</p> + +<p>"Not rash; but were it so, I should still do that which I have planned. +My husband longed to return to the home of his boyhood, had fully +resolved on purchasing the Seminary tract. He shall sleep where his +ancestor sleeps." She turned her head to conceal a tear; the philosopher +turned his to conceal a smile.</p> + +<p>"In this pious and appropriate design, my dear Cousin," he murmured——</p> + +<p>"I shall have your sympathy; I was sure of it. I want more; I want your +aid."</p> + +<p>In view of its wealthy source the suggestion was not alarming. The +gentleman promised it to the extent of his poor powers, intimating, +however, that connubial fidelity might conflict with maternal ambition, +a result which he deprecated as deplorable.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe had, she said, fully considered that possibility. "Suppose you +are right," she answered to the philosopher's argument, "even if Hampton +is the home of bigotry, boldness always commands sympathy. My chapel +will lend importance to a town which mourns a lost prestige. It will be +talked about from one end of the State to the other; and I intend that +the Seminary shall be my right hand, the Church—my church, my left——"</p> + +<p>"And both hands full!"</p> + +<p>She blushed. "Of course, I shall use my advantages. The Seminary is the +centre of much religious effort, which, as a Christian, I shall be glad +to aid. It is the centre of influence, which I hope to share. Under my +roof the representatives of differing creeds shall meet in harmony and +acquire mutual respect. Should it happen that my son be politically +objectionable because of my chapel—why, in such a condition of affairs +the liberalism that is always latent where bigotry flourishes would +spring to his aid, and find in him a leader."</p> + +<p>"Madame!" exclaimed the gentleman, "you will win."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," she replied, pleased at the admiration she had extorted. +"And now, you shall be told how you can aid me. Paris is an art centre; +there are to be found the people I shall need in regard to my plans +concerning the chapel. I am resolved that this shall be so noble an +edifice that the voice of detraction shall never be heard. Next winter +we shall meet in Paris. Will you, so far as may be, prepare the way for +my access to the places and people I desire to see?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly. I shall enter upon the task assigned me with admiration for +your plans and sincere devotion to your interests," Thus, with his hand +upon his heart and with an inclination of true Parisian elegance, the +philosopher entered the service of Mrs. Joe, and of the Church.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>ART, DIPLOMACY, LOVE AND OTHER THINGS.</h3> + + +<p>Thus in amity dwelt the Claghorns, employing the summer days in innocent +diversion. Many were the expeditions to points of interest; to +Neckarsteinach and the Robbers' Nest, to the village of Dilsberg, +perched upon the peak which even the bold Tilly had found unconquerable +in peasant hands; to Handschuhsheim, where sleeps the last of his race, +the boy-lord slain in duel with the fierce Baron of Hirschhorn, who +himself awaits the judgment in the crypt of St. Kilian, at Heilbronn, +holding in his skeleton hand a scroll, telling how the Mother's Curse +pursued him to where he lies; to the Black Forest, now so smiling, but +which Cæsar found dark, cold and gloomy, with its later memories of +ruthless knights whose monuments are the grim ruins that crown the +vineclad hills, and with present lore of gnomes and brownies. In these +simple pleasures youth and maiden, philosopher, theologian and worldly +widow joined with the emotions befitting their years and +characteristics. To Natalie it was a time of intense delight, shared +sympathetically by Paula, but more serenely. Mark enjoyed keenly, yet +with rare smiles and with an underlying seriousness in which an observer +might have detected a trace of the trail of the Great Serpent. Leonard, +seldom absent from the side of his French cousin, delighted in the novel +scenes and the companionship, but at times was puzzled by Natalie's +capacity to live in a past that, as he pointed out, was better dead, +since in its worst aspect it had been a time of barbarism, in its best +of fanaticism. He could not understand the longing and liking for a day +when if knights were bold they were also boorish, when if damosels were +fair they were also ignorant of books, and perchance of bathtubs. He +stared in innocent wonder at Natalie's exclamation of deprecation and +Mark's harsh laugh when he pointed out such undeniable facts. To him +Hans von Handschuhsheim, lying dead upon the steps of the Church of the +Holy Ghost, his yellow locks red with blood, and the fierce Hirschhorn +wiping his blade as he turned his back upon his handiwork—to Leonard +this was a drunken brawl of three centuries since, and it grieved him to +see in Natalie a tendency to be interested in the "vulgar details of +crime." He knew that the girl lived in the gloom of irreligion (he was +not aware that she dwelt in the outer darkness of ignorance), and he +sighed as he noted one result of her unhappy lack; and he never knelt at +his bedside forgetful of the fact, or of his duty in relation thereto.</p> + +<p>As to the elders of the party, they enjoyed the present after the +fashion of those whose days of dreaming have passed. Cousin Jared's +broad smile of satisfaction was only absent when, in the heat of +disputation, the philosopher was especially sacrilegious or aggravating, +and even so, it was easily recalled by the tact of the widow, much of +whose time was spent in keeping the peace between the two +fellow-students of bygone years. As for the philosopher, he secretly +pined for the Boulevard, though he, too, found distraction, one favorite +amusement being to disturb the usual serenity of Paula by cynical +witticisms, totally incomprehensible to the simple maiden.</p> + +<p>The day of separation came at length, the first to depart being the +mature and the budding theologian. Adieux were interchanged at the +railway station, and many hopes as to future meetings were expressed, as +well as satisfaction that chance had brought about a reunion so +unexpected. No doubt these expressions were sincere, yet it is possible +that as to clergyman and philosopher, each recognized in secret that +their real adieux had been uttered years before. Under the +circumstances, and with Mrs. Joe as a new link, the old chain had +served; but at heart the two were antagonists; the chain was worn out.</p> + +<p>"Not altogether a bad sort, Jared," observed M. Claghorn, as he walked +from the station and by the side of Mrs. Joe along the Anlage.</p> + +<p>"A thoroughly good fellow."</p> + +<p>He smiled. It was faint praise. He said to himself complacently that +she would not characterize himself as "a good fellow," whereas, the +politician at his side, however she might have described her companion, +regarded the departed Jared as of greater value to her plans, which had +not been confided to him, than could be the philosopher in whom she had +confided.</p> + +<p>The two girls and Mark, following their elders, also interchanged views +concerning the travelers. The verdict as to Cousin Jared, though less +irreverently expressed, was similar to that enunciated by the widow. The +good-hearted theologian had won the regard of all.</p> + +<p>"And as for Leonard," observed Paula, "he is the handsomest boy I ever +saw."</p> + +<p>"And as amiable as beautiful," averred Natalie.</p> + +<p>"As well as a little—shall we say 'verdant'?" suggested Mark. But the +girls either denied the verdancy, or, if they admitted the charge in +part, maintained it was an added excellence.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the travelers contemplated one another from opposite sides of +their railway carriage, the consciousness of leaving a strange world and +re-entering their old one already making itself felt. To the elder man +the change was neither startling nor very painful, but to Leonard it was +both. He did not try to analyze his feelings, but there was a dead +weight at his heart, a sorrow heavier than the natural regret at +parting. It was long before he spoke. "I am so glad that our cousin, +Natalie, though French, is not Catholic," he said, at length.</p> + +<p>"I fear she is worse," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"What could be worse?"</p> + +<p>"Total unbelief," replied his father solemnly; and the weight at +Leonard's heart grew heavier.</p> + +<p>During the short remainder of M. Claghorn's stay at Heidelberg—already +prolonged far beyond the original intention—it was arranged that he +should select for the widow suitable quarters for her winter +establishment at Paris; and so willing was the gentleman to be of +service, that, to his great satisfaction, he received <i>carte blanche</i> +for the purpose, and, Natalie accompanying him, departed with the +resolve that the owners of the Great Serpent should be lodged in +accordance with the just demands of that magnificent reptile, having in +view, among other aspirations, the dazzling of the House of Fleury by +the brilliance of the House of Claghorn.</p> + +<p>As to those other aspirations, enough to say that they were by no means +compatible with the loyalty he had professed for the pious plans of Mrs. +Joe. He had not forgotten that the noble arms of the Marquise de Fleury +were open to receive his daughter; but under existing conditions he was +willing to be coy. He remembered with satisfaction that he had not +irrevocably committed himself to a matrimonial alliance which still +possessed attractions: though in the presence of the dazzling +possibilities now offered, it behooved him to avoid precipitation. And +so reasonable was this position that he did not hesitate to disclose it +to the Marquise, simultaneously exculpating himself and assuaging the +lady's resentment by dangling before her the glittering possibilities +presented by Paula Lynford, whom he, with politic inaccuracy, described +as the actual daughter of Mrs. Claghorn, hence inferentially a +co-inheritor, with Mark, of the golden product of the Great Serpent.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>, Adolphe!" exclaimed the lady to her son, after having listened +to the entrancing tale told by the philosopher, "Heaven has heard my +prayers," and she repeated the unctuous story.</p> + +<p>"Over a million of <i>dot</i>! It is monstrous, mama."</p> + +<p>"For these people a bagatelle. Their gold mine yields a thousand francs +a minute."</p> + +<p>"These incredible Americans!"</p> + +<p>"There is also a son, one Marc, about your age——"</p> + +<p>"Aha, I see! M. Claghorn destines Natalie——"</p> + +<p>"Precisely."</p> + +<p>The little lieutenant wagged his head. It was the tribute to a dying +love. From infancy he had been taught by his mama that in Natalie he +beheld the future mother of the de Fleurys. Since infancy he had seen +her but rarely, and on such occasions, being admonished by his mama, had +concealed his passion from its object; but thus repressed, it had +bubbled forth in other channels. He had written and declaimed sonnets; +he had shed tears to a captured photograph of Natalie in pantalettes. +The gusts of consuming passion which, in the presence of his <i>amis de +college</i>, had swept sirocco-like across his soul, had extorted the sigh +of envy and the tear of sympathy; from other friends, notably from +Celestine, Claire and Annette, these manifestations had extorted shrieks +of laughter, which, however, had moved him, not to indignation, but to +pity, for in these damsels he saw but butterflies of love, unable to +comprehend a <i>grande passion</i>.</p> + +<p>It was, then, not without a fitting and manly sigh that the Marquis de +Fleury surrendered the love of his youth in obedience to his mama and +the motto of his house, which was "Noblesse Oblige," and, having +procured from Natalie a photograph of Paula, he did homage before it as +to "<i>la belle Lanforre</i>" in person, besides altering an old sonnet which +had already seen service, and finding that Lynford, or as he would have +it, "Lanforre," rhymed sufficiently well with Amor.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the philosopher having diplomatically engaged the services of +the Marquise, the noble lady proceeded to perform with zeal the task +assigned her. <i>La belle France</i>, home of romance and last citadel of +chivalry, is also business-like, and its sons and daughters of whatever +rank are deft manipulators of the honest penny. In negotiating for the +luxurious apartment of a diplomat about to proceed to Spain for a +sojourn of some months, and in dealing with furnishers of all +description, from laundry to livery men, the noble lady provided herself +with pocket-money for some time to come; a seasonable relief to the +over-strained resources of the House of Fleury.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>," exclaimed Adolphe to his mama, Mrs. Claghorn being already +installed in the diplomatic quarters, "this desire of Madame Zho to +inspect churches—how do you explain it?"</p> + +<p>"She is <i>dévote</i>. Doubtless she has sinned. She wishes to erect in her +own country an expiatory chapel."</p> + +<p>Which explanation, evolved from information derived from the +philosopher, aided by the speaker's fancy, elucidated the mystery +contained in the patronymic "Lanforre," borne by Paula. "<i>Sans doute</i>," +mused the Marquise, "<i>la mère</i>, being American, was <i>divorcée</i>. The +daughter is the child of the first husband." Which theory sufficed +until the later arrival of Mark, who, as being palpably older than +Paula, drove the lady to evolve another, which, fortunately, in the +interest of harmony, was not confided to "Madame Zho," but which not +only explained, but demanded the expiatory chapel.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Claghorn threw herself into her pious work with a zeal which +extorted the approbation of the Marquise, who, as we know, was herself a +religious woman, but which to the philosopher was less admirable, since +it interfered with deep-laid plans with which it was incompatible. He +was somewhat consoled, however, by the fact that the lady's course +facilitated an intimacy which was favorable to the realization of less +secret hopes; wherefore he vied with the Marquise in forwarding the +pious cause of the widow by surrounding that lady with an artistic host, +whereof the members received comforting orders for plans and paintings, +designs and drawings, and were refreshed by a golden shower whereof the +Marquise had her quiet but legitimate share.</p> + +<p>The philosopher contented himself with the post of chief adviser and +sole confidant of the beneficent lady. For, though her intention to +erect a chapel could not be concealed, the locality of the realization +of her plans remained a secret, and was, in fact, privately regarded by +Mark,—where the philosopher hoped it would remain,—as poesy hath it, +in the air.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the comparative freedom of intercourse which reigned among +the younger members of the party was approved by the Marquise as an +American custom sanctioned, under the circumstances, by heaven, as an +aid in its answer to her prayers; but the little lieutenant, like a dog +that has slipped its leash, was puzzled by an unaccustomed liberty, and +found himself unable to conduct himself gracefully in a novel role. He +knew that the joyous freedom befitting intercourse with Claire and +Celestine was not the tone for present conditions, but for similar +conditions he knew no other. If, after preliminary negotiation on the +part of his elders, he had been introduced into the presence of the +object of his love, himself clad <i>en frac</i>, and had found his adored +robed in white and carefully disposed upon a fauteuil—with the +properties thus arranged, he felt he could have borne himself worthily +as one acceptable and with honorable intentions. But thus to be allowed +to approach the object of a passion (which, he assured his mama, was now +at a white heat), to converse familiarly, surrounding ears being +inattentive and surrounding eyes uninterested; to be expected to +interchange views freely pronounced by lips such as he had supposed were +silent until unsealed by matrimony—these things puzzled and embarrassed +him. Perhaps it was fortunate that such attempts as he made to tell his +love were not understood by the object of his devotion. Paula's +understanding of French, though it had achieved plaudits and prizes at +school, did not suffice for the purpose, and the lieutenant was innocent +of any modern language other than his own, while against his frequent +efforts of an ocular character Paula's serenity was proof, though +occasionally disturbed by the manifestations of that which she supposed +was a severe nervous disorder of the eyes of her companion, and for +which she pitied him; and, as to the sonnet which he slipped into her +hand, it being beyond her construing powers, she handed it to Mrs. Joe, +who read it and laughed.</p> + +<p>But though she laughed at a production designed to draw tears, but for +it, she had probably paid little heed to an occurrence which about this +time attracted her attention.</p> + +<p>She was in the Church of St. Roch, Paula at her side, and, near at hand, +Mark and Natalie. St. Roch is an ancient and gloomy edifice, and the +lady had found no suggestions for her chapel in its sombre interior. She +turned to leave, when her attention was arrested by a tableau. Natalie's +hand rested upon Mark's shoulder, and both stood as if transfixed, and +gazing at something which Mrs. Joe could not see.</p> + +<p>Had it not been for the sonnet and the reflections to which it had given +rise, she would have at once admitted the palpable fact that the girl, +absorbed by that upon which she gazed, was oblivious of the touch with +which she had involuntarily arrested the steps of her companion. With +head bent forward, her faculties were enchained by that which she saw +with eyes in which wonder, compassion and wistful yearning were +combined.</p> + +<p>It was a young woman upon whom the girl's rapt gaze rested. She had been +kneeling at the grating of a confessional from which the priest had just +departed. A smothered cry, and the abandon with which the penitent had +thrown herself upon the stone floor of the mural chapel, had attracted +Natalie's attention, and unconsciously she had laid her hand on Mark's +shoulder to arrest steps which might disturb that which, at first +supposed to be devotion, was quickly recognized as the agony of grief.</p> + +<p>For a moment the observers thought the woman had fainted, so still she +lay after that smothered cry, and Natalie had taken a step forward to +lend aid, when a convulsive shudder shook the prostrate form, and then +the woman rose to her knees. Dry-eyed, her long, black hair hanging in +disorder, her white face and great, dark eyes gleaming from beneath +heavy brows and long silken lashes, she knelt, holding high a photograph +upon which she gazed, a living statue of woe.</p> + +<p>Mark was hardly less moved than Natalie, but more quickly remembered +that he, at least, had no business with this sorrow. As he moved, the +unconscious hand of his companion fell from his shoulder, and in the +same moment the mourner rose and her eyes met Natalie's.</p> + +<p>Dignified by grief, she was a majestic woman, and handsome; probably +handsomer in her disorder than under the aspect of every day. Perhaps +she instantly read the sympathy in the eyes, no less beautiful than her +own, which were turned upon her.</p> + +<p>"You suffer!" exclaimed Natalie involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"And you rejoice," replied the other, indicating Mark.</p> + +<p>"I have but this." She displayed the colored photograph she had held +toward heaven. A startled exclamation broke from Mark, as he looked.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," said the woman. "To-day was to have been our wedding day, +and he is dead." The tears welled up in the listeners' eyes; the speaker +was tearless, but the silent sympathy impelled her to go on.</p> + +<p>"Three months we lived together," she continued, with Gallic frankness +as to domestic details. "His father refused consent, but to-day, his +birthday, he would have been free: he is dead. His mother pities me," +the woman went on. "She has known love. She promised consolation in +confession—as if a priest could know!"</p> + +<p>"Yet they say that in religion," Natalie commenced timidly——</p> + +<p>"There is but one religion—Love!" interrupted the other. "You will +know. He"—her glance indicated Mark—"will be your teacher."</p> + +<p>Mark glanced hastily at his cousin. She seemed oblivious of the woman's +words. He moved further away. After awhile Natalie slowly followed; the +woman left the church.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice," asked Mark, as Natalie rejoined him, "how strikingly +that portrait resembled Leonard?"</p> + +<p>She made no answer. Other words than his were ringing in her ears: +"There is but one religion—Love! He will be your teacher," and even +while she sorrowed for the sorrow she had witnessed, a strange thrill +passed through her—was it pain, was it joy?</p> + +<p>The party left the church. Natalie sought the side of Mrs. Joe, leaving +Mark to walk with Paula. The elderly lady asked her who was the person +with whom she had talked. Natalie replied that the woman's name was +Berthe Lenoir, and that she wished to be the speaker's maid, and she +narrated some part of the history that had been briefly told to her.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," was the comment, "your father must make inquiry as to +her fitness."</p> + +<p>"That, of course," was the answer, and then she was silent. Within a +week Berthe Lenoir entered her service, a woman, who by reason of her +capacity, soon gained the general approval; and for other reasons, the +special approval of a lover of the beautiful. "Her eyes," observed the +lieutenant, "are the eyes which shape destinies."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, other eyes, belonging to one who believed it in her power to +shape destinies, were watchful. Mrs. Joe had long since resolved that to +be an American statesman, Mark needed an American wife, and since she +had herself trained one for the position, she had no desire to see her +labors rendered fruitless. It had needed merely the opening of her eyes +to enable her to discern that there were other schemes worthy of her +attention, besides that one of the philosopher, of which she herself was +the object, and which, though the gentleman had supposed it hidden, had +been patent to the lady, serving to amuse while it benefited her. She +promptly averted the danger to her plans by confiding to the Marquise +her intentions with regard to Mark and Paula. The noble lady regarded +such matters as entirely controllable by parental edict, and at once +resumed negotiations with the philosopher, who, in the belief that +surrender of his hopes in regard to his daughter would tend to further +those he cherished in respect to himself, acquiesced gracefully in the +inevitable; and there being no ground for further delay, the de +Fleury-Claghorn treaty was duly ratified, to remain, however, a secret +for the present from all the juniors of the party, except from the +lieutenant, whom it was necessary to inform of the need of a +re-transference of his affections. He submitted with sorrow. The charms +of Paula had, as he confided to his mama, made an impression on his +heart which only active service could efface. As to resisting destiny, +it never entered his thoughts. Paula was for Mark, Natalie for him. +There might be consolation. "With such wealth," he suggested, "they will +surely add to her dowry."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope so," replied the Marquise. "Our Cousin Beverley will do +what is possible. Meanwhile, be as charming as possible to Madame Zho +and to Marc, who will have it all."</p> + +<p>"Such luck is iniquitous! Well, since my marriage is deferred, you will +consent that I go to Africa. Love is denied me; I must seek glory. +<i>Tiens, je suis Francais!</i>"</p> + +<p>Long before this, Mrs. Joe had exacted from Mark a promise to study at +the University with reasonable diligence. The promise had been kept. A +new semester was about to commence; he was anxious to take the doctoral +degree, hence it was necessary for him to return to Heidelberg. He +hardly regretted it. Of late, constraint had seemed to pervade the +intercourse which had been hitherto so unrestrained, and, above all, +Natalie had been unusually reserved. It was not without some regret that +he departed, yet on the whole content to return to <i>Burschenfreiheit</i> +and fidelity to the creed whose chief article is disdain of +philistinism.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe was glad to see him depart before she left for America, where +the surprise intended for him was progressing. But it might take more +time to build a house than make a Doctor of Civil Law; the question was +how to prevent his premature home-coming.</p> + +<p>"I will keep him," said the philosopher, in answer to her confidence as +to her misgivings. "He has promised to visit me when he leaves the +University. When I get him I will hold him."</p> + +<p>The lady looked at the gentleman questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Do not doubt my good faith," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"And you will come with him to America," she suggested. "Perhaps you can +induce the Marquise. And the little soldier—surely, he will brave the +seas if your daughter does so!"</p> + +<p>"An invasion by the Gauls. Why not? I for one shall be enchanted to see +the result of your energy and taste."</p> + +<p>"And Natalie shall see the Tomb in which she is so deeply interested, +while you lay your homage at the feet of Miss Achsah and so fulfill a +long-neglected duty."</p> + +<p>"And at the feet of the chatelaine of Stormpoint. I am impatient for the +day." And it was so arranged, and the lady, declining the proffered +escort of Monsieur, left Paris for Havre, accompanied by Paula.</p> + +<p>"A good fellow!" she thought, as she leaned back in the coupé, applying +to the philosopher that very term which he had flattered himself she +would not apply, "but too anxious to believe that I am his cousin and +not his aunt."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>A CONFERENCE OF SPINSTERS CONCERNING A RUNAWAY DAMSEL.</h3> + + +<p>Five years have passed since the Claghorn reunion at Heidelberg. The +Professor and philosopher have journeyed to that world concerning which +one of the two claimed certain knowledge, and which the other regarded +as unknowable. Thither we cannot follow them, but since men do not live +for a day, but for all time, we shall doubtless come upon indications +that the lives of these two, the things they said and did, are forces +still. Meanwhile, we must concern ourselves with the living, and of +those with whom we have to do, no one is more noteworthy than Achsah +Claghorn.</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn was, as the representative of an ancient and very +theological family, a citizen of no little note in Easthampton, the +shady and quiet suburb of the city of Hampton. Her spotless white house +was large; its grounds were, compared with those of her neighbors, +large; the trees in the grounds were very large; the box-plants were +huge of their kind. Miss Achsah herself was small, but by reason of her +manner, which was positive and uncompromising, impressive. She lived as +became her wealth and position, comfortably and without undue regard for +conventionalities. She could afford so to live and had been able to +afford it for many years; ever since she had shared with her brother, +the Reverend Eliphalet, the bounty left to them by that other and +younger brother who had died in California. On the receipt of that +bounty she had retired from her position as schoolmistress, had bought +the large, white house, and, together with Tabitha Cone, had undertaken +to live as she pleased, succeeding in so doing more satisfactorily than +is usual with those fortunate enough to be able to make similar +resolves. Perhaps this was because her desires were more easily +attainable than the desires pertaining to such conditions usually are.</p> + +<p>The position of Tabitha Cone was nominally one of dependence, but, with +a praiseworthy desire to rise superior to such a status, Tabitha +persistently strove to rule her benefactress, which attempts were met +with frequent rebellion. Miss Achsah was, at least intermittently, +mistress of her own house; and both ladies had a lurking consciousness +that she, Achsah, to wit, had reserves of strength which would enable +her to become so permanently, if she were to develop a serious intention +to that end. Both ladies, however, shrank from a struggle with that +possible termination, much enjoying life as they lived it, and with no +desire to terminate an invigorating and pleasing warfare.</p> + +<p>For the rest, Miss Claghorn permitted no slurs to be cast upon her +companion, except such as she herself chose to project. "Tabitha Cone +and I sat on the same bench at school; together we found the Lord. I +knew of no difference between us in those days; I know of none now, +except that I had a rich brother."</p> + +<p>"I am sure, Miss Claghorn, I quite agree with your view," observed +Paula, to whom the words were addressed.</p> + +<p>"Which I hope is a satisfaction to you," replied the lady, her manner +indicating complete indifference as to the fact. "If that is so, why do +you object to my consulting Tabitha Cone about this letter?" looking +over her spectacles at the pretty face.</p> + +<p>"I hoped that my plan would meet your views, and then such consultation +would perhaps be unnecessary, and—and——"</p> + +<p>"And?" echoed Miss Achsah in an uncompromising tone, and regarding her +visitor still more sharply.</p> + +<p>"You know, Miss Claghorn, you sent for me, and were kind enough to say +you desired my advice——"</p> + +<p>"Information, not advice."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think Tabitha Cone will derive a wrong impression if she +reads that letter?" continued the persistent Paula, "Is that quite +fair?"</p> + +<p>"Tabitha Cone understands English—even Ellis Winter's—he says plainly +enough that the girl is an atheist——"</p> + +<p>"Not that, Miss——"</p> + +<p>"A heathen, then—a damned soul" (Paula started palpably). "Splitting +hairs about terms don't alter the essential fact."</p> + +<p>"Nobody can deplore the truth more than I; but to risk its being made a +subject of gossip——"</p> + +<p>"Tabitha Cone is not given to tattle. She may gossip with Almighty God +about this matter. She has known Him for many years."</p> + +<p>Paula shuddered. To know Omnipotence in this blunt fashion grated on her +nerves. "I have humbled myself many times and sought her eternal welfare +in prayer," she said.</p> + +<p>"I hope your condescension may ultimately benefit her," snapped the old +lady. "I can't say I have noticed any change, certainly no change for +the better."</p> + +<p>"I referred to Natalie."</p> + +<p>"Oh, and so that is the way to pronounce the outlandish name. My nephew +Eliphalet's mother's name was Susan; my own name has been in the family +two hundred years—well, and if Ellis Winter is right, your humblings +seem to have done but little good. Perhaps those of the despised Tabitha +Cone may have more effect, even if unaccompanied with flummery——"</p> + +<p>"Miss Claghorn, you are not generally unjust."</p> + +<p>"Never. But I get tired of millinery in religion. Ah! if only you would +humble yourself—but there! I suppose you intone the prayer for your +daily bread. Pah!"</p> + +<p>Paula rose majestically.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, child; I didn't mean to offend you. (The Lord has infinite +patience and pity, and so for imbeciles, I suppose)" she said +parenthetically and in a subdued tone, which was not heard by the +visitor, who sat down, having an object in being both meek and +persistent, a fact of which Miss Claghorn was aware. It was a sore +temptation to let Paula have her wish, but, all the while she knew she +must finally resolve to do her duty. It was that knowledge which gave +acrimony to her speech.</p> + +<p>"Paula," she said, "I ought not to have asked you to come here about +this matter. I knew what you would desire and hoped you would be able to +persuade me; I ought to have known myself better. I must do my duty; she +must come to me."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Miss Claghorn——"</p> + +<p>"She is a Claghorn, and—dreadful as it is—a heathen as well, and alone +in the world. I must do my duty; it is not easy, I assure you."</p> + +<p>Paula quite believed this, and the belief did not add to her hope of +success. When Miss Claghorn desired to do things which, in the eyes of +others, were better left undone, she was apt to see her duty in such +action. It was equally true that her duty being visible, she would do +it, even if disagreeable. But the duty now before her was, for many +reasons, very disagreeable, indeed, and strictly just as she was, she +was but human, and the righteous indignation she felt for her own +vacillation fell naturally in part upon Paula.</p> + +<p>"At least do not let that letter prejudice you," urged Paula. "She is a +sweet girl, as good as gold."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. Gold is dross. Good girls do not deny their Maker."</p> + +<p>This was indisputable. Paula sighed. "I am very sorry we cannot have +her," was all she said.</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn looked at her thoughtfully and with some inward qualms at +her own harshness. There was an opportunity to seasonably drop a word +which for some time she had been considering as ready to be dropped, and +which, if heeded, might have some consolation for the girl before her.</p> + +<p>"You can have her—on one condition. Come now, Paula!"</p> + +<p>"What is that?" asked the girl, hope in her eyes; some misgiving, too, +for there was that in Miss Claghorn's expression which aroused it.</p> + +<p>"Stop your shilly-shally with that little milliner-man, Arthur Cameril, +and marry him. Then Natalie can pay you a good long visit."</p> + +<p>This was more than a Christian ought to bear. Paula could do her duty, +too.</p> + +<p>"Miss Claghorn, Father Cameril has taken the vow of celibacy. The fact +is well known. I am contemplating the same. I wish you good-morning," +and so Paula majestically sailed away.</p> + +<p>"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Miss Achsah, as her visitor let herself out of +the front door; and then, not disturbed, but in the belief that she had +performed another disagreeable duty, she commenced the re-perusal of a +letter in her hand. Which letter was as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Miss Claghorn—Your grand-niece, Natalie, has arrived in +this country. She naturally at once communicated with me, and I +find her situation somewhat perplexing. To speak frankly, she +has run away from home. It was her father's wish that she +remain in the household of the Marquise de Fleury, and she has +lived with that lady since Mr. Claghorn's death. But it seems +that for some time past the guardian has tried to induce the +ward to marry against her inclinations.</p> + +<p>"I think there can be no doubt that the influences brought to +bear on your grand-niece amounted to persecution, and I am +disposed to regard her action as justified, having received +from the Marquise (who was apprised of her destination by your +niece) a letter, written in such a tone as to leave no doubt in +my mind that the statements made to me by Miss Natalie are +correct.</p> + +<p>"The plan of your grand-niece is to live independently in this +country. For the present this would be most imprudent. She is +very young, and though by no means inexperienced in the ways of +the world, is very foreign. She is quite resolute in her +determination, and is aware that her property, in my charge, +aside from some French possessions, is ample for her support. +Do not gather that she is not amenable to advice, or is +inclined to be obstinate. This is not the case, but she has +evidently had an unpleasant experience of guardianship, and is +quite resolved under no circumstances to permit any disposition +of herself matrimonially. This resolve is the foundation of her +intention to remain independent, an intention which no doubt +will be easily combated with her advance in knowledge of our +American customs in this regard.</p> + +<p>"It would be unfair, having shown you the only shadows +connected with Beverley's daughter, were I to withhold the +commendation justly due her. With such acquaintance as I had +formed with her on the occasion of my visit to France, I +gathered a good opinion of one whom, indeed, I only knew as a +child. That opinion has been strengthened by occasional +correspondence and by the personal observation of the last +fortnight. She seems to be a charming girl, remarkably +beautiful, with a mind of her own, and, doubtless, a will of +her own; nevertheless, a person that would be an acquisition in +any household. Were I blessed with a domestic circle, I should +be well content to have Miss Natalie enter it; but, as you +know, I am not so fortunate.</p> + +<p>"I hesitate to mention one other detail, yet feel that you +ought to be fully informed; and while I can, believe me, +appreciate the standpoint from which you will regard that which +I have to disclose, I beg you to take a charitable view of a +matter which, to one of your rooted and cherished convictions, +will be of transcendent importance. It is that your grand-niece +is in religion a free-thinker, and rejects the Christian faith.</p> + +<p>"To you, as the representative of the Claghorn family, a family +which for generations has upheld the standard of purest +orthodoxy, this information will come as a shock. Yet when I +assure you that Miss Natalie's views (such as they are) are +probably held rather from a sense of filial duty and affection +than from conviction, the facts will, I am sure, appeal to your +compassion, as well as to that stern sense of duty and justice +so admirably exhibited in your life. For many years I have been +aware that the late Beverley had trained his daughter in +accordance with a theory which repudiated tenets sacred in your +eyes. My only reason for never imparting the fact to you was +because the knowledge could only be a grief to one who held the +Claghorn traditions in reverence. The interest you occasionally +displayed concerning one who had chosen to be an exile was, I +believe, always satisfied as far as in my power, except as to +this one particular. I regret now that I withheld a knowledge +which circumstances have made important. I did wrong, but I +need not ask you not to connect my wrong-doing with the claims +of your grand-niece.</p> + +<p>"Kindly consider this letter carefully and let me hear from you +soon. Perhaps an invitation to spend a part or all of the +coming summer with you would lead to an easy solution of the +difficulties presented. Your grand-niece is at present staying +with my friend, Mrs. Leon, who will be pleased that she remain; +but I foresee that the young lady herself will object to that.</p> + +<p>"With regards to Miss Cone, believe me,</p> + +<p>"Respectfully yours, <span class="smcap">Ellis Winter</span>."</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>A MAIDEN FAIR, A MODERN EARLY FATHER AND A THEOLOGIAN.</h3> + + +<p>Paula emerged from the White House in an un-Christian frame of mind. The +fact might to an ordinary sinner seem pardonable, and Paula herself, +though by no means an ordinary sinner, thought so, too. "Impertinent +bigot!" In these unusually emphatic words she mentally expressed her +opinion of Achsah Claghorn.</p> + +<p>From several points of view Paula was not an ordinary sinner. +Externally, she was a very pleasing one, being in all things alluring to +the eye. So nicely adjusted were her physical proportions that it could +not be said that she was either tall or short, plump or meagre. A +similar neutrality characterized the tints of her skin and hair. Her +cheeks were never red, yet never pale; the much-used adjective "rosy" +would not properly describe the dainty tinge that, without beginning or +end, or line of demarcation, redeemed her face from pallor. Her nose was +neither long nor short, upturned or beak-like, and while no man could +say that it was crooked and remain a man of truth, yet would no +truth-lover say that it was straight. In all respects a negative nose, +in no respect imperfect. Her skin, ears, neck, hands, feet—all were +satisfying, yet not to be described by superlatives. Her hair was +neither chestnut nor yellow, nor quite smooth nor kinky, but in color +and adjustment restful; her eyes were nearly violet, and their brows and +lashes just sufficiently decided to excite no comment. Paula's mouth was +perhaps the only feature which, apart from the charming whole, demanded +notice, and he who noticed sorrowed, for it was a mouth inviting, yet +not offering kisses.</p> + +<p>It is believed that it will be admitted that outwardly Paula Lynford was +not an ordinary sinner. Nor was she such as to the inner being, if she +herself could be believed; for at this period of her existence she was +accustomed to introspection, and that habit had disclosed to her that +she was very bad, indeed, "vile," as she fondly phrased it, or in +moments of extreme exaltation, "the vilest of the vile."</p> + +<p>A serene consciousness of vileness was a recent growth in her bosom. +Father Cameril (so known to a very small but devoted band of +worshippers—to the world at large, the Reverend Arthur Cameril) was +fond of dwelling upon human and his own vileness, and his adorers +desired to be such as he. Nor did the Reverend Father deny them this +delight, but rather encouraged their perception of the unworthiness +indicated by the unpleasant word which had been caught from him by the +dames and damsels who rejoiced in him and in their own turpitude. Father +Cameril was, in a very limited circle, quite the rage in the vicinity. +Since his advent spiritual titillation had been discovered in candles, +attitudes, novel genuflexions and defiance of the Bishop, a wary old +gentleman, who was resolved to evade making a martyr of Father Cameril, +being, from long observation, assured that sporadic sputterings of +ultra-ritualism were apt to flicker and die if not fanned by opposition. +The good Father, meanwhile, unaware that the Bishop had resolved that no +stake should be implanted for his burning, whereby he was to be an +illumination to the Church, tasted in advance the beatitude of +martyrdom, and reveled in mysterious grief and saint-like resignation +and meekness, and while hopefully expectant, he added to his inner joys +and the eccentricity of his outward man by peculiar vesture of the +finest quality, beneath which the fond and imaginative eyes of his +followers saw, as in a vision, a hair shirt. He was known to aspire to +knee-breeches, and was hopefully suspected of considering a tonsure as a +means of grace and a sign of sanctity. His little church, St. Perpetua, +the new and beautiful edifice erected by Mrs. Joseph Claghorn, of +Stormpoint, in memory of her husband (an offence in Miss Claghorn's +Calvinistic eyes, and regarded askance by Leonard), was crowded every +Sunday at Mass, a function which was also celebrated daily at an hour +when most people were still abed; Paula always, the night watchman, +about going off duty occasionally, and three elderly ladies, blue and +shivering, in attendance. Father Cameril was Miss Claghorn's special +aversion. Tabitha Cone found in him much to admire. He was a good little +man, inordinately vain, somewhat limited in intellect, and unconscious +of wrong-doing. He prayed that the Church might be led from the path of +error in which she obstinately chose to remain, and, by canonizing Henry +VIII, display works meet for repentance; in which case he would hesitate +no longer, but return home, that is, to the maternal bosom of Rome, at +once.</p> + +<p>As Paula saw the good Father coming down the street, holding in his +yellow-gloved hand a bright-red little book, the redness whereof set off +the delicate tint of the glove, while its gilded edges gleamed in the +sunlight, she was more than usually conscious of the vileness which +should have been meekness, even while her anger grew hotter at the +insult offered by Miss Claghorn to the natty little man approaching, +"like an early Father," she murmured, though any resemblance between the +Reverend Arthur in kid gloves and ætat 28, and Polycarp, for instance, +was only visible to such vision as Paula's.</p> + +<p>"You seem disturbed," he said, as the two gloved hands met in delicate +pressure, and he uttered the usual sigh.</p> + +<p>"A cherished hope," she answered, her clear violet eyes bent downward, +"has been dashed."</p> + +<p>"We must bear the cross; let us bear it worthily. I have been pained at +not seeing you at confession, Paula. You neglect a means of lightening +the burden of the spirit."</p> + +<p>"My cousin objects, Father. I owe her the obedience of a daughter."</p> + +<p>"You owe a higher obedience"—here his voice had that tone of sternness +always sweet to the meek ears of his followers. "Nevertheless," he +added, "do not act against her wish. I will, myself, see Mrs. Claghorn. +Meanwhile, bear your burdens with resignation, always remembering the +weakness, yea, the vileness of the human heart."</p> + +<p>"I strive," said Paula, looking very miserable and unconsciously taking +an illustration from a heavily-laden washerwoman passing, "not to faint +by the wayside, but the load of life is heavy."</p> + +<p>"But there are times when the heart's vileness is forgotten, the soul +rises above its burdens and feels a foretaste of the life to come," +interrupted Father Cameril a little confusedly as to the senses of the +soul. "Try to rise to those heights."</p> + +<p>"I do. May I ask your special intercession for a soul in darkness? One +that I had hoped to gain."</p> + +<p>"Hope on and pray. I shall not forget your request. The name is——"</p> + +<p>"Natalie, the daughter of Mr. Beverley Claghorn. You have heard us +mention them. Mr. Claghorn is dead. Until now she has lived in France, +where she was born. I hope to see her soon at Easthampton."</p> + +<p>"At Stormpoint! How pleasant for you! Paula, we shall rescue this dear +child from the errors of a schismatic mother. I feel it here," and the +Reverend Arthur indicated his bosom.</p> + +<p>Paula recognized in the schismatic mother the Roman Catholic Church. She +felt it sinful to leave Father Cameril in ignorance of the facts. She +felt it unkind to her friend to disclose them. She could sin, if hard +pushed; she could not be unkind. She concealed the unbelief.</p> + +<p>"We knew them some years since in Europe," she said. "I mean Mr. +Claghorn and Natalie. She is a sweet girl; but she will visit at Miss +Claghorn's."</p> + +<p>The Reverend Arthur's face fell. Above all earthly things he dreaded +sinners of the type of Achsah Claghorn. "The situation will be +difficult," he murmured. "But truth will prevail," he added, more +cheerily. "Truth must prevail."</p> + +<p>Which assurance made the girl uncomfortable, because she knew that his +prayers and his labors would be directed against mere schism, whereas +the case required the application of every spiritual engine at command.</p> + +<p>So that she was not sorry that he left her, after presenting her with +the little red book and urging her to read the same.</p> + +<p>Stormpoint was not inaptly named. A huge crag jutting out into the sea, +whose waves, ever darting against its granite sides, rolled off with a +continuous muffled bellow of baffled rage, which, when the storm was +on, rose to a roar. A cabin had once stood on the bluff, which, +tradition asserted, had been the home of the first Eliphalet Claghorn, +whose crumbling tomb, with its long and quaint inscription, was hard by. +The Reverend Eliphalet slept quiet in death, but the howl of the storm +and the roar of the waves must have kept him awake on many a night in +life. Even the stately castle erected by Joseph Claghorn's widow often +trembled from the shock of the blast. The region about was strewn with +huge boulders, evidences of some long-past upheaval of nature, while +among the crags great trees had taken root. The landscape was majestic, +but the wind-swept soil was barren, and the place had remained a waste. +Only a fortune, such as had been derived from the Great Serpent, could +make the Point comfortable for habitation. But the task had been +accomplished, and Stormpoint was the second wonder of Easthampton, the +first being the wonderful chapel, St. Perpetua.</p> + +<p>Paula gloried in Stormpoint. Not for its grandeur or the money it had +cost, but because she loved the breeze and the sea and the partial +isolation. Even now, as she ascended the bluff by a side path, rugged +and steep, and commenced to smell the ocean and feel its damp upon her +cheek, the Reverend Arthur Cameril seemed less like an early Father, and +his lemon-colored kids less impressive.</p> + +<p>On hearing her name called and looking up, she smiled more brightly and +looked more beautiful than she had yet looked that day, though, from the +moment she had emerged from her morning bath of salt water she had been +beautiful. "Aha! Leonard, is that you?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" asked Leonard, as he reached her side.</p> + +<p>"At Miss Claghorn's. She sent for me."</p> + +<p>Leonard's eyes opened wide. "Cousin Achsah sent for you! What for?"</p> + +<p>"She will tell you."</p> + +<p>"And you won't. Well, I must wait. What have you there?" taking the +little red book from her hand. "'The Lives of the Hermits!' Oh, Paula; +you had better read the 'Lives of the Laundresses'; these were a very +dirty set."</p> + +<p>"Leonard! How can you? A clergyman, a professor of theology!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've no objection to them except that," he answered, "and I +wouldn't mention their favorite vanity if they had not so reveled in it +and plumed themselves upon it. Paula, Paula," he added, more seriously, +"Father Cameril gave you that."</p> + +<p>He was vexed, perhaps jealous of Father Cameril, though if so, he was +unconscious, ascribing his vexation to a different source. He had a +hearty contempt for the silly flummery, as he mentally described it, +practised by Father Cameril, and he hated to know that Paula was enticed +by it. She understood and was neither without enjoyment of his vexation +nor resentment that he would not express it in words. She would have +liked him to forbid the reading of the little book. It would have been a +sign of steadfastness to disobey; it might have been a greater pleasure +to obey.</p> + +<p>"Well, read the book, if you can stomach it," he said. "I doubt if you +will derive any benefit. I must be going. When you and Cousin Achsah +take to plotting, I must investigate. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Leonard, did you know that Natalie is in New York, that she has come to +America to live?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie in New York! Your news amazes me. She will come here, of +course?"</p> + +<p>"Not to Stormpoint," she answered regretfully. "To your cousin's, Miss +Claghorn."</p> + +<p>He looked his surprise. "To live there! That surely will never do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Leonard, I am so glad you agree with me. I tried to persuade Miss +Claghorn to let her come to us. Think of it! Alone with those two old +women and their quarrels. That gloomy house! It's dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"It certainly will not do for Natalie," he observed, thoughtfully. "I +wish, Paula, my cousin had consulted me rather than you."</p> + +<p>"Why, Leonard! You don't suppose I did not urge all I could?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it. Cousin Achsah is, of her kind, a very fine specimen, +and I am her favorite and bound to respect and love her, as I do—but a +nature like hers and one like yours are antagonistic."</p> + +<p>"Then, since you respect and—and——"</p> + +<p>"And love her, you think I don't respect and love you; but you know +better, Paula."</p> + +<p>She blushed at the snare the echo of his words had led her into. He was +not so conscious. "As I remember Natalie," he said, "she was amiable and +nice in all points—still she and my cousin——"</p> + +<p>"They will be absolutely incomprehensible to each other," said Paula. +"Do try and have her consent to let Natalie come to Stormpoint."</p> + +<p>"I will do what I can. Has Mrs. Joe invited her?"</p> + +<p>"She will be only too glad as soon as she knows. But the matter has been +placed in such a light by that tiresome Mr. Winter—but there, you will +find out everything from your cousin. Do what you can."</p> + +<p>"I will. What happy days they were, those days in Heidelberg."</p> + +<p>The violet eyes were tender with reminiscence, the pretty mouth +seductive. "They were the happiest of my life," she said.</p> + +<p>"And of mine," echoed Leonard, as he walked off, having seen neither +mouth nor eyes, but a vision of the past.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE ADVANTAGES OF TREADING THE BORDERLAND OF VICE.</h3> + + +<p>Among the diversions indulged in at Heidelberg, during the accidental +reunion of the Claghorns, there had been one particularly affected by +Professor and philosopher. The early education of these two had been +identical; their later training had progressed on widely diverging +lines. The Reverend Jared had continued in the path in which his +footsteps had been placed in childhood, while Beverley had wandered far. +Yet, being by inheritance as nearly alike as may be two who, descended +from a common ancestor, partake of marked ancestral traits, agreement +between them in reference to a matter wherein their views clashed was +impossible; which fact had sufficed to lend a charm to disputation.</p> + +<p>A favorite theme of discussion had been discovered in the serious +problems connected with the training of youth. The clergyman had a son +who embodied his theories; the philosopher was the father of a daughter +educated upon a plan of his own. Each was paternally satisfied with +results so far, and each hoped for further development equally +gratifying.</p> + +<p>The philosopher preached from a text which may be briefly stated in the +words of the proverb, which informs us that "Familiarity breeds +contempt." He would apply this maxim to evil and use knowledge as the +shield of youth. Whereas the Professor, relying upon the truth contained +in the adage, "Ignorance is bliss," and maintaining that modified bliss +in this world and perfect bliss in the world to come are the proper +objects of man's endeavor, logically contended that ignorance of evil, a +thing in its nature sure to breed sorrow, was to be encouraged.</p> + +<p>"The true way to appreciate the dangers which must inevitably beset +youth is to become familiar with them. Distance lends enchantment. That +closer inspection of vice which may be derived from acquaintance with +its borderland, wherein the feet of the novice may be taught to tread +warily, will result in indifference, if not disgust. As long as there is +ignorance there will be curiosity, which is more dangerous than +knowledge." Thus had spoken the philosopher. To which the Professor had +replied: "Yet I will not assume that you wish your daughter to tread the +borderland of vice?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do; limiting her steps to the borderland of the vices to +which she is to be exposed. I admit that a man cannot, as readily as a +woman, take cognizance of such vices. It is my misfortune and my +daughter's that her mother died at her birth; but I have endeavored to +make her superior to the glaring defects of her sex. She is not petty. +She yearns neither for bonnets nor beatitudes. Without attempting, in +the ignorance inseparable from my sex, to instruct her in detail, I have +always had in view the enlargement of her mind."</p> + +<p>"By educating her as a Frenchwoman!"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, no. Much as I admire the French, I do not approve their +system of female education, which, by the way, resembles the course you +have pursued with your son. I do not question its frequent excellent +results, nor can I question its failures. My daughter's schooling has +been only partially French. Travel and indiscriminate reading—I have +largely relied on these."</p> + +<p>"I am willing to admit, Cousin, that the apparent results in those +matters which you deem of most importance ought to be gratifying. It is +no exaggeration to say that my young cousin is a charming girl. But her +life has not been lived."</p> + +<p>"No. Therefore, we cannot fairly speculate as to the outcome. Meanwhile, +as far as my system has reached, it is gratifying, as you confess."</p> + +<p>"The same can be said of mine."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless. But has your son's life been lived? Thus far, you have as +much reason for satisfaction as I have. I hope that you will never be +compelled to admit that innocence, based on ignorance, is a weak barrier +to oppose to the inevitable temptations which beset young men."</p> + +<p>"Innocence fortified by religious principle, early instilled," had been +the solemn reply.</p> + +<p>M. Claghorn understood the solemnity and braved the possible results of +a confession which he was willing to make rather than be further exposed +to the occasional somewhat annoying admonitory tone of his companion.</p> + +<p>"I am a living example of the futility of that contention," he answered. +"I do not wish to be understood as admitting that I have been unduly +addicted to vice, which would not be true; but I have tasted of +forbidden fruit. I found it unsatisfactory. I base my theory on careful +observation and some personal experience."</p> + +<p>Cousin Jared groaned inwardly, but made no answer. Exhortation was on +his tongue's end, but, as the philosopher had desired, he recognized its +futility.</p> + +<p>Indulgence in wine was one of those vices which the Reverend Jared had +found reprehensible, a practice which it grieved him to observe was +permitted by the lax views of all those Claghorns, except himself and +Leonard, who were sojourning together. It is not to be assumed that +these people indulged in unseemly intoxication. Of so untoward a result +the Professor had no fear. He objected to wine-drinking as offering an +evil example. The fact that in so doing he discredited the first miracle +of his Saviour was a difficulty easily surmounted by a nimble +theologian.</p> + +<p>"You are so fierce about wine that one would think you had a personal +hatred toward liquor," Beverley had said to him laughingly.</p> + +<p>"I have, 'Liph. Jeremiah Morley——" He said no more, remembering who +Jeremiah Morley had been.</p> + +<p>"It is fanaticism, Jared; absolutely incomprehensible. Your son, even +though a clergyman, must live in the world. I don't say make him +worldly, but don't let him remain in complete ignorance. He is a +handsome fellow, amiable, intelligent—really too good for a parson."</p> + +<p>"Which you intended to be; which your father, grandfather and +great-grandfather were."</p> + +<p>"Don't think I depreciate them. But your boy is hardly formed on the +Claghorn pattern. He has probably more of the Morleys. His mother must +have been a very beautiful woman, if he resembles her."</p> + +<p>"As good as she was beautiful," sighed the widower. "Yes, Leonard +resembles the Morleys—the best of them."</p> + +<p>And so the discussion had terminated. It has been recorded here to +indicate paternal views as to the education of youth. In the practice of +the views he held, Professor Claghorn had been ably seconded by an +excellent and pious wife, and had he been alive to see the result in the +young man who had just left Paula Lynford, he must assuredly have +observed the proved soundness of his theories and practice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>A YOUTH OF PROMISE, A FEMALE POLITICIAN AND A YELLOW MAN.</h3> + + +<p>Paula watched Leonard until he disappeared. Then she sighed. Long ago +Beverley Claghorn had paid a similar tribute to the charms which +extorted the sigh. In Paula's eyes the attractions which pertained to +Leonard were lost in the sect to which he belonged. As a priest of the +Church (it was thus that she put it) he would have been externally +perfect, his physical excellence of unspeakable value to the cause of +pure truth, while his conception of the priestly role would have been +even nobler than that of Father Cameril. Leonard would have been no meek +saint, but a saint militant, and long ere this the Bishop would have +been down upon him, to the episcopal discomfiture.</p> + +<p>If Paula grieved that Leonard labored under the disadvantage of the +rigid practice of his denomination as to vesture and pulpit accessories, +to those by whom such disadvantages were unrecognized his personality +was no less persuasive of his fitness for noble deeds. As a rising +theologian and young teacher of the divine science, he was, to those who +watched his course, of excellent promise; destined to be a defender of +that ancient creed which of late had been often attacked by able, if +deluded, foes. To him orthodoxy looked with confidence, as to one who, +when the day of battle came, would valiantly assail the enemies without, +and confound the machinations of those within the household of faith. A +worthy successor of his father, Professor Jared Claghorn, and to be +greater, as better equipped to meet skeptical reasoning with reason +clarified by faith; to demonstrate that the eye of the philosopher is +but a feeble instrument for scrutiny of the works of God.</p> + +<p>He was not ignorant of the general estimate or of the hopes of his +elders, and had long been accustomed to fit himself for the position he +was destined to fill, but of these aspirations he was oblivious as he +walked slowly toward the town. He had never forgotten his father's words +as to Natalie's unbelief. They were part of the memory of her, and now +that memory was reawakened, and the words sounded again in his ears. He +was deeply stirred by the knowledge that an errant soul was about to +enter the inner circle of his life. He saw the hand of Providence in the +fact; it was for this that she had not been turned from infidelity to +error. She would not find the way to heaven by the dim rays of the +obscured light of Romanism, but by the purer light of a reformed and +vitalized religion, and to him was to be given the glory of being +heaven's instrument. He was ambitious; his eyes had long been set on +such earthly honors as come to theologians; he was prepared to welcome +the theological storm of which the forecasts were already visible to +those of clear perception, such as his own. In that impending struggle +he knew that he would bear himself worthily, yet no glory that he could +rightly anticipate therefrom seemed now so pleasing, nor awakened more +fervent hope than that just born within him, the hope of rescuing a +single soul. That glory would transcend all other, for though from men +his work might be hidden, in the eyes of God he would be a faithful and +worthy servant, and would hear from heaven the inaudible words, "Well +done."</p> + +<p>Exaltation such as this had long been rare with Leonard, whose mind of +late had been fascinated rather by the mysteries of doctrine than warmed +by religious fervor; and he was himself surprised that this ardent +desire for a soul should enchain him; but he was gratified. To save +souls was the ultimate object of his teaching; he was glad of this +evidence that he had not forgotten it.</p> + +<p>It may be that other thoughts, memories of bygone days, arose in his +mind. Perhaps he recalled the beauty that had so attracted him in the +garden of the Red Ox. There may have been some stirring of the blood of +youth, which of late had sometimes coursed tingling through his veins; +sometimes when he held Paula's hand, or noted the peachy velvet of her +cheek, the clear depths of her eyes. But, if it were so, he was +unconscious.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Paula, who in the face of Miss Claghorn's fiat, still hoped +to rescue Natalie from the impending horrors of the White House, turned +toward the mansion. Her main reliance lay in anticipating the summons of +Miss Achsah by an urgent invitation from the mistress of Stormpoint, to +which end it was essential to seek that lady without further delay. +Suddenly, as she hurried on, an exclamation of annoyance escaped her, +and her steps were arrested by the sight of an ancient and mud-encrusted +buggy which stood near that entrance to the house toward which her own +steps were tending. She recognized the equipage of Mr. Hezekiah Hacket, +and recent observation had taught her that when Mr. Hacket's carriage +stopped that way, the lady of Stormpoint was not accessible to persons +of minor distinction.</p> + +<p>Aside from her general disapproval of Mr. Hacket, whose buggy, beneath +its coating of mud, was yellow, and who was himself a yellow man, with +teeth, hair, eyes and skin all of that unattractive hue, and unlovely in +consequence of his pervading tint, Paula had no reason, so far as she +knew, to resent Mr. Hacket's presence, except that it interfered with +access to Mrs. Joe. Had she been aware of that which was transpiring in +that apartment of the mansion which was devoted to business of state, +she would have known that the visit of the gentleman was to have an +important bearing upon her wish to deprive Miss Achsah of the +opportunity to convert her erring grand-niece to Calvinism; which dark +design Paula, since her meeting with Father Cameril, suspected.</p> + +<p>Hezekiah Hacket, externally no more noteworthy than any very ordinary +man and brother, was, in fact, an important personage in that region +where Mrs. Joseph Claghorn had replanted the California branch of the +family tree, intending that it should flourish and mightily expand. The +shrewd lady of Stormpoint had quickly discovered that Mr. Hacket, the +man of business of the Seminary, as well as of everybody that required +the services of a man of business, possessed a sphere of influence +eminently worthy of cultivation by political aspirants; and in all the +region round about there was no such aspirant whose ambition soared as +high as hers. In a realm largely dominated by a theological seminary, +the existence of the political potentate called "Boss" was ignored and +the word was seldom heard; but Mr. Hacket was the thing, and, all +unconscious, the Seminary voted as its political guardian wished. Not +the Seminary only; as the investor of the funds of others, this +personage controlled the sources of power, and while deftly avoiding +concentration of the secret antagonism which he knew existed against +himself, by never exposing himself to the vengeance of the ballot, Mr. +Hacket named the candidates for office—not infrequently those of +opposing sides, so that in close elections, when a rolling wave of +reform rendered the outlook uncertain, as in those not close, he +remained the winner. Financially, he was strictly, though only legally, +honest. Politically, he was a rogue. He was a pious man, though without +a conscience and without belief. His industry was untiring. The lady of +Stormpoint disliked him, at times to the point of loathing, and she +courted him and smiled upon him.</p> + +<p>"I sent for you," she said, on his appearance at Stormpoint, and +offering a fair hand and an agreeable smile, both of which Mr. Hacket +pretended not to see, it being his pleasant way to rule by insolence—if +possible, by cringing if need were—"because in a few months my son will +return home."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hacket smoothed his yellow jaws with a freckled hand, and replied, +"Just so," while the lady, who secretly desired to shake him, smiled yet +more agreeably.</p> + +<p>"Before he left home the last time," she continued, seeing that her +visitor intended to remain dumb, "he had made many acquaintances. This +was in accordance with your advice. What is he to do now?"</p> + +<p>"Make more acquaintances."</p> + +<p>"That, of course. I want him to enter the next Legislature."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hacket had not decided that the desire expressed by the lady was his +own, but he was shrewd enough to know that, crude as her ideas might be, +and defective her knowledge of things political, she had the energy to +attain her desire in the end, if seconded by the efforts of her +candidate. He hated innovation, but he was aware that the Great Serpent +held potentialities which he must not antagonize. It was not possible +for him to be pleasing to Mrs. Joe, nor for her to be pleasing to him; +but it was prudent to seem sympathetic. He essayed it, awkwardly enough.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, "your son is young and his only merit is money."</p> + +<p>She flushed; but she knew he could not help being insolent in the +presence of grace, comeliness and luxury, and all these were before him. +"You mean it's the merit by which he's best known. Let it serve until +others become apparent."</p> + +<p>"It'll go far, but some it makes mad. I have an idea your son isn't +over-warm in the matter."</p> + +<p>"He didn't seem so. He wasn't aware that I am serious, and I said but +little to him. Then the country was very new to him, and the people. +He'd been long in Europe; his position was difficult." She had realized +much more keenly than Mr. Hacket that Mark had only followed her urgency +in that matter of making acquaintance because he had wished to please +her. She was sure that there had been some hidden cause for indifference +other than distaste for the task she had set him, and had brooded not a +little over possibilities. But she was sanguine by nature; and since no +love-tale had come to her ears (and she had her observers and reporters) +she had concluded that, whatever the cause of his indifference, her son +would become sufficiently ardent in the furtherance of her plans, when +once they were more fully disclosed to him, and he had become aware that +his mother had set her heart upon a political career for him. At present +he probably regarded her wishes as merely a passing whim, and she knew +that he was ignorant of her consultations with Mr. Hacket.</p> + +<p>"Positions are apt to be difficult," observed the gentleman. "However, +it's much too soon to discuss nominations. He'll have a year before +him."</p> + +<p>"He must have the Seminary," she said, "when the time comes."</p> + +<p>"When the time comes," he echoed. He did not intend to commit himself, +but he was becoming each moment more convinced that the lady knew her +value and wished him to perceive the fact. It was equally evident that +she duly appreciated his own; was, in fact, afraid of him, a pleasing +assurance, which would have been yet more delightful if the gentleman, +simultaneously with the recognition of this truth, had not also +recognized a less agreeable fact, namely, that he was also afraid of +her; sufficiently so to make it advisable that she understand he was not +trifling with her. Such advice as he might give must seem reasonable, +and must go beyond the suggestion of making acquaintances.</p> + +<p>"You're working the Sem. all right," he said as graciously as he could. +"Keep it up, but don't overdo it. How's Miss Achsah feel?"</p> + +<p>"Friendly to Mark, I'm sure; not unfriendly to me, though——"</p> + +<p>"Though your church sticks in her—is hard to swallow. I'm not surprised +at that. St. Perpetual's——"</p> + +<p>"Is there and beyond discussion."</p> + +<p>"I always believe in looking over the whole field. St. Perpetual covers +a good deal of it; so does Miss Achsah, and——"</p> + +<p>"I had no idea that my sister-in-law is a political factor."</p> + +<p>"Her's is, or wants to be."</p> + +<p>"Well, let us conciliate Miss Achsah, if necessary. We're on fair +terms——"</p> + +<p>"Next time the Bishop comes here, invite her to dinner with him."</p> + +<p>"She'll decline."</p> + +<p>"What if she does? You always had the Professor, and she'll see that you +look on her as his successor."</p> + +<p>He rose, as if to go, but hesitated. Not because of any delicacy about +volunteering the counsel that hovered on his lips, but in doubt whether +it might not be well to permit her to injure her aspirations as much as +she could. The certainty that she was, if she cared to be, too +influential to offend him, determined him. He felt, with a sigh, that +the time might come when he might be compelled to share his power; +better that than risk losing it.</p> + +<p>"I was in New York this week and saw Ellis Winter," he said. "Ellis told +me that 'Liph Claghorn's daughter is in this country. He seemed to think +you might invite her here."</p> + +<p>"I intended to do so."</p> + +<p>"Don't. She's French and, I suppose, a Romanist. Winter was +close-mouthed, but I could see there was something. There's talk enough +about idolatry and St. Perpetual's. I happen to know that Miss Achsah +wants her, too, to convert her."</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Hacket——"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," he said. "I've acted on the square. There's more in the +matter than you think."</p> + +<p>After his departure the lady of Stormpoint spent a few moments of +indulgence in silent indignation; but when Paula came and preferred the +request for that urgent invitation to Natalie, which was to circumvent +the designs of Miss Claghorn, she found the lady inclined to recognize +the claims of that person. Nevertheless, she promised to send the +invitation, and did so that afternoon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE DEVIL WALKS TO AND FRO IN HAMPTON.</h3> + + +<p>The ancient city of Hampton and its Theological Seminary are well known. +To the wanderer under the elms of the quaint old town there is imparted +an impression of cleanliness and a serene complacency, derived, +doubtless, from the countenances of the many who, clad in sombre vesture +and clean linen, pass and repass in the quiet streets. No man can be +long in Hampton without feeling the theological influence; unconsciously +the wayfarer adopts the prevailing manner, becomes deliberate in his +walk and grave of aspect; his moral tone acquires rigidity, his taste +severity; he inwardly rejoices if clad in fitting black and secretly +covets gold-rimmed spectacles.</p> + +<p>The best hotel, facing the Square, has the Hampton air, being even +severely theological in aspect. Ordinary commercial travelers prefer +"The United States," also a grave hostelry, though less austere in tone; +but some descend at "The Hampton," reverend appearing gentlemen these, +with white chokers conspicuous, and dealing in churchly wares and +theological publications.</p> + +<p>In this house Leonard had lived since his father's death had made the +old home desolate, being, by reason of his personal as well as his +professional attributes, a guest of note; and here there happened to him +one day a new and strange experience.</p> + +<p>He was breakfasting, later than his usual hour, when he became conscious +of the scrutiny of the strangest eyes he had ever seen—eyes belonging +to a woman, who, plainly clad in traveling attire, faced him from an +adjacent table where she sat, with another woman, whose back was toward +Leonard.</p> + +<p>The gaze, though fixed, was not in appearance intentionally bold. The +woman's eyes, dreamy, languishing, seemed to sink into his own, as +though seeking what might be in the depths they tried to penetrate. It +was as though, for them, the veil behind which man hides his inner self +was lifted, and a sense of pleasure stole over him and willingness to +surrender to this scrutiny; withal a shrinking from disclosure of that +which he instinctively felt was unknown, even to himself. It required +some effort to rise and leave the room.</p> + +<p>An hour later, while waiting for the time of his morning lecture, and +hardly freed as yet from the sensation resulting from his breakfast +experience, while sitting in the spacious hall of the quiet house, he +suddenly became aware of drapery, and looking up, encountered the eyes +again; not as he had been seeing them since he had escaped them, but +again bodily where they belonged, under the heavy brows of a dark-faced, +large, and rather handsome woman.</p> + +<p>"Pardon," she said in musical tones, and with a scarce perceptible smile +at the ruddy flush which mantled his face. "<i>Est ce Monsieur Claghorn?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Surely," exclaimed Leonard, "this is not——"</p> + +<p>"The maid of Mademoiselle Claghorn," she replied, still in French. "The +clerk indicated you as Monsieur——"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Your mistress——"</p> + +<p>"This way, Monsieur." She led him toward the parlor, and had his ears +been keen enough, he might have heard her murmur: "<i>Il est adorable.</i>"</p> + +<p>Natalie had been, in Leonard's eyes, a very beautiful girl, and he found +her now a very beautiful woman. She was tall, dark, slender and +indescribably graceful, as well as with the nameless manner, born with +some and never in perfection acquired, of exceeding yet not obtrusive +graciousness. Had she been born a duchess, she could not have had a +better manner; had she been born a washerwoman, it would have been as +good, for it was born, not made. The mere beauty of her face was hardly +remembered in contemplation of qualities apparent, yet not wholly +comprehensible. Ordinarily serene, if not joyous in expression, there +was an underlying sadness that seldom left it. Perhaps she still grieved +for the father she had lost; perhaps, unconsciously, she craved the love +or the religion which the Marquise had said a woman needs.</p> + +<p>The travelers were on their way to Easthampton, having arrived in the +night train from New York. On learning that less than an hour's drive +would bring her to the home of Miss Claghorn, Natalie declined Leonard's +escort. "I wish to see my grand-aunt alone," she explained. "She has +written a most kind invitation——"</p> + +<p>"Which I hope you will accept, Cousin."</p> + +<p>"Which I greatly desire to accept, but——"</p> + +<p>"If for any reason," he interrupted, "you should decide not to accept +Cousin Achsah's invitation, I know that at Stormpoint——"</p> + +<p>"I have letters from both Mrs. Joe and Paula; but my first duty, and my +inclination as well, take me to my father's aunt."</p> + +<p>Though he had at first agreed with Paula that residence with Miss Achsah +would not "do" for Natalie, he saw the fitness of her decision. She +recognized her own status as a Claghorn and appreciated the Claghorn +claim upon her. "I am glad you feel so," he said. "You will discern +Cousin Achsah's real excellence beneath an exterior which, at first +sight, may seem unpromising. She is not French, as you will soon +discover, but as for true kindness——"</p> + +<p>She interrupted with a laugh. "You and Mr. Winter are both eloquent in +apologizing for my grand-aunt's sort of kindness, which, it seems, +differs from the French variety."</p> + +<p>"We only mean she will seem to you undemonstrative. She is very +religious."</p> + +<p>"That does not alarm me; everybody is—except myself," and now her laugh +had a cadence of sadness.</p> + +<p>It touched him. He knew the task laid out for him by Providence, and he +felt that he ought to say a fitting word. But all the time he knew that +the eyes of the maid were upon him. The knowledge made him appear +somewhat constrained—he who ordinarily had an ease of manner, which was +not the least of his charms.</p> + +<p>"They are well at Stormpoint, of course?" questioned Natalie. "Mrs. Joe +and Paula?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly. You will be charmed with their home. Mrs. Claghorn has +transformed a desert. The sea——"</p> + +<p>"Paula sent me some views, and better, an appreciative description. I +should think they would never wish to leave it—none of them?" She +looked inquiringly at him.</p> + +<p>"As to that," he laughed, "Mrs. Joe flits occasionally; and, of course, +Paula with her. But they are becoming more and more content to remain at +home. Mrs. Joe is quite a public character."</p> + +<p>"A chatelaine—the head of the house?" Again her eyes questioned more +insistently than her lips.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," was the answer. "Mark's a rover. He's in Russia."</p> + +<p>A sigh of relief—or regret? It was quickly checked. Leonard noticed her +pallor. "You are tired," he said. "Why not rest for an hour or two here? +If you will do so, I can myself drive you to Easthampton. Just now I +must attend to my class at the Seminary."</p> + +<p>But she would not wait for his escort; so he procured a conveyance, and +surmising that, under the circumstances, the maid was an embarrassment, +he suggested providing her with a book and the hospitality of his +sitting-room, and having seen his cousin depart, he conducted +Mademoiselle Berthe to his room and handed her a volume of the "Revue +des Deux Mondes," which the maid accepted graciously.</p> + +<p>"There," he said pleasantly, and in his best French, "you can look out +of the window or read, as you please. I hope you will not find the time +long."</p> + +<p>She smiled in reply. Her penetrating eyes sought that other self within +him, which leaped to the call and looked out of his eyes into hers. For +a moment only. His gaze dropped. Wondering, he found himself trembling.</p> + +<p>"I—I shall look in in an hour, to see if you want anything."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is very good," murmured Berthe. They were not far apart; her +hand touched his. She looked downward.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," he said abruptly.</p> + +<p>She watched him crossing the square toward the Seminary. There was a +half smile upon her lips. "He is adorable," she murmured again. "Ah! I +thought so," as Leonard, now some hundred yards away, looked back.</p> + +<p>When he had disappeared she lazily inspected her surroundings, noting +the various objects with faint interest. "<i>Son père</i>," she muttered as +her glance fell upon the portrait of Professor Jared Claghorn. But she +examined more minutely that of his mother. "<i>Belle femme</i>," was her +comment, and though her eyes wandered from the picture, they often +returned to it, verifying the close resemblance between it and the +occupant of the room. "Ah-h!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms, and +then letting them fall listlessly, "<i>Qu'il est beau</i>!"</p> + +<p>Then she tried to doze, but without much success, twitching nervously +and occasionally muttering impatiently; and, at length, she rose from +her chair and began to deliberately inspect the various objects lying on +table or mantel. Everything that was purely ornamental she scrutinized +with care, as though she would read the reason of its being where she +found it. There was a peculiar expression of veiled anger in her eyes +while thus engaged, and once the veil was momentarily lifted and anger +was visible. Nevertheless, she laughed a moment after and replaced the +object, an ivory paper cutter, where she had found it. "<i>T'es bête</i>," +she muttered.</p> + +<p>But soon her dark eyes flashed actual rage. She had taken a prettily +bound book of poems from the table, where it had been thrown, as if but +recently read. She turned the pages, half carelessly, yet with a sharp +eye, to see if there were any marked passages. She found one or two +such, and it would have been diverting, had there been a spectator +present, to note her perplexed attempts to read Mrs. Browning. But the +language was beyond her powers, and she was about impatiently to replace +the book when she noticed the fly-leaf, whereon in a neat, clear hand +was written the inscription, "Leonard, from Paula." She stared at these +innocent words with a glare that under no circumstances could have been +regarded as amusing. Finally, she tore the leaf from the book and flung +the book itself disdainfully from her. Then she crumpled the leaf in her +hand, threw it into the waste basket, and deliberately spat upon it.</p> + +<p>Which strange proceeding perhaps soothed her irritation, for she lay +back in her chair, and after breathing hard for a little while, was soon +sleeping peacefully.</p> + +<p>Meantime, while Mademoiselle slept the sleep of one who has spent the +night in travel, Leonard lectured, but less fluently than was usual. A +man out of sorts is not an uncommon circumstance, and though his flushed +cheeks, bright eyes, and occasional bungling speech were sufficiently +remarkable in one ordinarily engrossed with his subject, nothing was +said to further disturb his equanimity.</p> + +<p>The lecture over, he walked across the square, less equable in spirit +than he had been in the class-room; for there he had striven to retain +his grasp of the topic in hand; now he was under no restraint and could +surrender himself to contemplation—of what?</p> + +<p>Of the stirring touch of a woman's hand, of the vision of a new world, a +glimpse of which he had caught in the greedy depths of a woman's eyes. +Even now he was hurrying to see these things again, while he was angry +that they drew him back.</p> + +<p>He overcame the attraction, and deliberately sat down upon a bench. He +watched a little girl playing about, and might have remained watching +had not the devil, who sometimes walks to and fro and up and down in +Hampton, intervened.</p> + +<p>The child was suddenly struck by a ball, batted by an urchin, who, on +seeing what he had done, incontinently took to his heels. She fell, +stunned, almost at Leonard's feet. The impact of the ball had seemed +frightful, and for a moment Leonard thought she was killed.</p> + +<p>The hotel was across the street. He carried her thither, intending to +summon a physician, but on seeing some returning signs of animation, he +took his burden to his room and laid her on the bed.</p> + +<p>Berthe, her nap over, had witnessed the scene in the park. She heard +Leonard lay the child on the bed in the chamber adjoining the room in +which she sat, and was instantly by the bedside with her traveling bag, +from which she produced restoratives. She gave her whole attention to +the sufferer, while he looked on, pleased with these gentle +ministrations.</p> + +<p>"It may be a bad hurt," said Berthe, undoubted pity in her tone. "The +brain may be injured."</p> + +<p>"I will call the doctor,'" he said.</p> + +<p>The doctor was at hand, his room being on the same corridor. His opinion +was that no serious damage had been done. "Let her rest awhile. If she +seems unusually drowsy, let me know," with which words and a glance at +Mademoiselle, he returned to his room.</p> + +<p>Berthe knelt beside the child, who was growing alarmed as her +intelligence became normally acute. The Frenchwoman prattled soothingly, +and Leonard stooped to add some words of encouragement. He stroked the +child's hair, and his hand met the soft hand of Berthe and was enclosed +within it. He trembled as she drew him downward, and a sob escaped him +as his lips met hers and lingered on them in a rapturous kiss.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>HER EYES GREW LIMPID AND HER CHEEKS FLUSHED RED.</h3> + + +<p>When the carriage, which was to convey her to Easthampton, had started, +Natalie commenced the re-perusal of Miss Claghorn's invitation, which +ran thus:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My Dear Grand-niece—I address you thus, for though I have +never seen you, yet you are of my kindred, and all who bear +your name must be dear to me. Your father was so in his youth, +and if, in later years, he neglected, if he did not forget, the +ties of kinship and of country, I nevertheless mourned for him, +even though sensible that all things are ordered by the Lord of +heaven and earth and that human regret is useless, and, if +unaccompanied with resignation, sinful. Mr. Winter writes me +that you are friendless. I offer that which you can justly +claim from me—my friendship and a home. As far as earthly +cares are concerned, I am willing to relieve you of those +incident to your situation. This is plainly my duty, and for +many years I have striven, with God's help, to perform with a +cheerful spirit that which I have been called upon to do.</p> + +<p>"It is this habit which impels me here to refer to your views +concerning man's duty toward his Maker. I do not, because +conscientiously I cannot, agree with those who profess +tolerance in these matters. There should be no tolerance of +sin. If we would worthily follow in the steps of Him who died +that we might live, we must hate the devil and his children in +the same measure that we love our Father and his children. +Whose child are you?</p> + +<p>"This is a solemn question. I urge you to seek its answer at +the Throne. If you will do this, my hope will be mighty. Should +you be tempted to resent my solicitude, remember that my +religion is a part of my nature, the only part meriting your +respect, and that it requires of me that which I have written, +as well as much more not set down here, but of which I hope I +shall see the fruits. Come to me as soon as possible, and be +assured of a welcome. <span class="smcap">Achsah Claghorn.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>The girl smiled, though sadly, as she read this letter. She did not +resent the fact that it was confessedly inspired solely by a sense of +duty; she rather admired the writer for the uncompromising statement; +nor was she offended at the sermon contained in the epistle, or inclined +to treat it lightly. It is not probable that the writer of the letter +believed that her exhortation would sink deeply in the heart of an +"atheist," she being probably unaware that some who know not God crave a +knowledge which they find nowhere offered.</p> + +<p>The drive was long, the horse sleepy, the driver willing that his steed +should doze, while his passenger paid by the hour, for which reason he +had chosen the longer road by the sea.</p> + +<p>She looked out upon the water with a gaze of longing, as though there +might arise from out the solitary deep a vision which would solve that +great mystery, which for Miss Claghorn and such as she, was no mystery, +but wherein most of us grope as in a fog. But, as to other yearning +eyes, so to hers no vision was vouchsafed; though had her sight been +strengthened by experience, she might have seen, symbolized in the +waters, the life of man. For, against the shore the fretful waves were +spent and lost in sand, whereof each particle was insignificant, but +which in the mass absorbed the foaming billows, as the vain aspirations +of youth absorb its futile energies. Beyond was the green water, still +tireless and vexed, and then the smoother blue, as it neared the +sky-line, undisturbed, until afar the waters lay at rest in hopeless +patience, and the heavens came down and hid the secret of what lay +beyond.</p> + +<p>But, if youth looked with the eyes of age, there were no youth. She was +not yet to know lessons which must be hardly learned, and it was not +that one offered by the waters that she saw as she looked out upon the +ocean. Far beyond the horizon, in a distant land, her eyes beheld the +garden of a village inn where sat a girl, prattling with her father and +commenting upon two dusty strangers, who in their turn were eyeing the +maid and her companion curiously. She saw the cave, heard Leonard shout +the name—and then Mark Claghorn stood before her—as he then had stood, +in the jaunty cap and ribbon which proclaimed him "<i>Bursch</i>"; one of +those lawless beings of whom she had heard much school-girl prattle. +Even then she had contrasted the handsomer face of the simple-minded boy +beside her with the harsher and more commanding features of this +newcomer. And her fancy wandered on through pleasant German saunterings +and Parisian scenes among the churches—to the day when Berthe Lenoir +had said that Mark would be her teacher in the lore of love; and she +knew that, in the moment of that saying, she had learned the great +lesson, never to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>She had cherished the secret without hope or wish that he should share +it, for she knew that so sweet a thing could live in no heart but her +own; and she had not been ashamed, but had been proud of this holy +acquisition hidden in her heart of hearts. Her eyes grew limpid and her +cheeks flushed red as she recalled how the shrine of her treasure had +been profaned by the hand of one that might have known, but had +disdained its worth. In the Church of St. Roch the three who had been +present when love was born were again alone together. Berthe was now her +maid, and Mark, his university days past, was a daily visitor at her +father's house.</p> + +<p>The scene was clear before her as he pointed to the maid, out of +earshot, and gazing carelessly at the worshippers. "Has she +forgotten—so soon?" he said. "Are women so?"</p> + +<p>She had not answered. Forgotten! Who could forget?</p> + +<p>"I have not forgotten. I often come here, Natalie."</p> + +<p>She had had no words. What was it that had so joyously welled up within +her and overflowed her eyes and closed her lips?</p> + +<p>"I was to be your teacher, Natalie."</p> + +<p>She looked into his eyes, and from her own went out the secret of her +soul into his keeping; and she had been glad, and the gloomy church had +been aglow, and as they passed out the sun shone and the heavens smiled +upon a new world; for she had never seen it thus before.</p> + +<p>That was the short chapter of the history of her love. There had been no +other. He had ravished her secret that he might disdain it, and next day +had said a stern good-bye, spoken as though forever.</p> + +<p>Yet she had dared to come here, though now the impulse was strong upon +her to turn and flee from a region where he might be met. It was but an +impulse; for either she must come among these her relatives or return to +throw herself into the arms of the vacuous hussar who loved her dowry, +or failing that, into the strife and importunity from which she had +escaped. Resentful pride, too, came to her aid, bidding her not flee +from him who had disdained her love, though even so she knew that that +which had been born within her had been so fondly cherished, had grown +so mighty, that in the heart it filled there was no room for pride to +grow with equal strength.</p> + +<p>She turned again to the letter in her hand. Her unbelief had never +stilled the longing to believe, and now, in the hunger of her soul, the +yearning was strong. But, she asked herself, What was belief? There was +much glib talk of faith, but what was faith? Could one have faith by +saying that one had it? Was conviction mere assertion? The letter +advised her to seek enlightenment at the Throne of God. What meaning +could the words have except that she was to crave that which she had +ever craved? Her soul had always cried aloud for knowledge of God. Could +it be that formal words, repeated kneeling, would compel heaven to give +ear? Was it thus that people experienced what they called religion? Was +it so that Miss Claghorn had found it?</p> + +<p>Such musings came to an end with her arrival at the White House. She had +announced her coming by letter, wherefore Tabitha Cone, recognizing the +identity of the visitor and mentally pronouncing her a "stunner," +ushered her into the gloomy parlor, and informed Miss Claghorn that +"'Liph's daughter" awaited her.</p> + +<p>"I decided to call in person before accepting your kind invitation," +said the visitor.</p> + +<p>"I learn from Ellis Winter that you need a home," replied Miss Achsah, a +little stiffly, but rather from awe of this blooming creature than from +dislike.</p> + +<p>"I am grateful for your offer of one; but in fairness, I thought you +should know my reasons for leaving France, and essential that you should +justify me."</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn assented not ungraciously. The frank demeanor of her +visitor pleased her. "A Claghorn," was her mental comment, as Natalie +told her story more in detail than Mr. Winter had done.</p> + +<p>"You see," she added to her narrative of the matrimonial pursuit of the +gallant de Fleury, "he is not a man that I could like, but my +cousin——"</p> + +<p>"You mean this French Markweeze?"</p> + +<p>Natalie nodded. "She is a sweet woman, and undoubtedly believed herself +right in the matter. Then it was, doubtless, a very serious +disappointment. Lieutenant de Fleury is her son; they are comparatively +poor; I am not—and so—and so——"</p> + +<p>"You were quite right to run away," snapped Miss Achsah, with the +emphasis born of indignation at this attempt to coerce a Claghorn.</p> + +<p>"It must not be forgotten that, from her point of view, my cousin was +justified in expecting me to carry out a promise made by my father. It +was this that made her so persistent and induced her to attempt measures +that were not justifiable. To her I must seem ungrateful for much +kindness." The girl's eyes glistened with tears. In fact, this view of +her conduct, which was doubtless the view of the Marquise, affected her +deeply. She did not state, though aware of the fact, that her own income +had, during her residence with her French guardian, been mainly used to +sustain and freshen the very faded glory of the house of Fleury.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," was the comment of Miss Claghorn, "I have listened to +your story and justify your course; and now I repeat my invitation."</p> + +<p>Had Tabitha Cone seen the gracious manner of the speaker she would have +been as surprised as was the lady herself. But in the presence of this +beautiful face, the evident honesty of the narration of the tale she had +heard, the underlying sadness beneath the serene expression, it would +have needed a harder nature than Miss Claghorn's to be anything but +gracious. But she flushed with self-reproach when Natalie touched upon +what she had for the moment completely forgotten.</p> + +<p>"But," exclaimed Natalie, "I have not answered the question in your +letter. The matter of religion, I was led to believe, would be to you +most important. It is to so many; the Marquise, Père Martin, Mrs. +Leon—have all been grieved—I am an infidel."</p> + +<p>The coolness with which this statement was made shocked her auditor even +more than the fact. The perplexed smile upon the girl's face; the +yearning look, that seemed to recognize something wanting in her, some +faculty absent which left her without a clew to the cause of the +successive shocks emanating from her—these things, if only dimly +appreciated by Miss Claghorn, were sufficiently apparent to make her +feel as though a weight had fallen upon her heart. "Oh, my child, that +is an awful thing to say!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The way the words were uttered showed that all the tenderness, long +hidden, of the speaker's nature was suddenly called to life. No +exhortation ever heard by Natalie had so affected her as this outburst +of a hard old woman. She seized the other's hand, murmuring, "Dear +Aunt!" She pitied, even while she envied, the victim of superstition, as +the God-fearing woman pitied the errant soul. Neither understood the +source of the other's emotion, but they met in complete sympathy. The +elder woman pressed the hand that had grasped her own, and leaning +toward her grand-niece, kissed her affectionately. What old and +long-dried springs of feeling were awakened in the withered breast as +the oldest descendant of the Puritan preacher yearned over the youngest +of the line? Who shall tell? Perhaps the barren motherhood of the +ancient spinster was stirred for once; perhaps the never-known craving +for a mother's love moved the younger one. For a time both were silent.</p> + +<p>"Come to me to-day, at once," whispered Miss Achsah, blushing, had she +known it, and quivering strangely.</p> + +<p>The heartiness of the invitation troubled the visitor, whose answer was +less gracious than a chief characteristic required. "I will come +to-day," she answered. "Let it be understood as a visit only." Then she +went out, and in the lumbering carriage was driven back to Hampton.</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn watched her from the window. Gradually she was recovering +herself and secretly feeling mightily ashamed, yet pleased, too. Tabitha +came in.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," echoed Miss Claghorn, acidly.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Pray," replied the lady, as she ascended the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Must have forgot it this morning," was Miss Cone's mental comment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>WHEREAT CYNICS AND MATRONS MAY SMILE INCREDULOUS.</h3> + + +<p>When Natalie returned, Leonard was occupying his old seat in the Square, +a different man from the man she had met in the earlier morning. He had +been shocked, grieved, even terrified, and above all ashamed; yet joy +mingled with his grief, and his consciousness of new manhood was not +without its glory; and, withal, his breast was filled with a flood of +tremulous tenderness for the woman, and a longing for her forgiveness. +His emotions were sufficiently confusing to be vexing, and he had +striven to give the matter a jaunty aspect. Young men will be young men, +even when students of divinity, and he had heard more than one tale of +kisses. He had not much liked such tales, nor the bragging and +assumption of their tellers; still, a few hours since, he would have +seen no great offense in kissing a pretty woman; but a few hours since +he had not known anything about the matter. He was sure now that the +rakes of his college days, the boasters and conquerors, had been as +ignorant as he. Otherwise they could not have told of their deeds; the +thing he had done he could tell no man.</p> + +<p>And so, though he had but kissed a woman, he felt that kissing a woman +was a wonderful thing; and he failed in the attempt to look upon the +matter airily, as of a little affair that would have in the future a +flavor of roguishness. It was not a matter to be treated lightly; his +grief and the stabs of conscience were too sharp for that—yet he had no +remorse. He was not minded to repeat the act; he had fled from such +repetition, and he would not repeat it; neither would he regret it. It +should be a memory, a secret for hidden shame, for hidden pride, for +grief, for joy.</p> + +<p>He intercepted Natalie as she descended from the carriage, and, in a +brief interview in the hotel parlor, learned of her intention to return +at once to Miss Claghorn. The carriage was waiting, there was no reason +for delaying her departure; there was nothing to do but to call the +maid, and he dispatched a servant to do that. He volunteered to see to +the immediate transmission of the luggage of the travelers to +Easthampton, and made thereof an excuse for leaving before the maid +reappeared; and when once without the hotel door, and on his way to the +station, he breathed a sigh as of one relieved of a load.</p> + +<p>Some days passed and Leonard had not appeared at Easthampton. One +morning he received the following note from Paula:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Leonard—I suppose you are very busy in these last days +of the term, and we all excuse your neglect of us. I shall be +at the Hampton station on Thursday, having promised to see +Natalie's maid (who don't speak English) on the evening train +for New York. Perhaps you can meet me and return with me to +dinner. Cousin Alice hopes you will."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He was careful not to find Paula until the train had gone, and he had +assured himself that Berthe was among the passengers. Then he appeared.</p> + +<p>"Why, Leonard," exclaimed Paula, "have you been ill?" The tone was full +of concern. He shrank as if he had been struck.</p> + +<p>"No," he said; "a little anxious—troubled."</p> + +<p>"Over your freckled, gawky, thickshod theologues; what a pity you're not +in the Church!"</p> + +<p>This kind of outburst on the part of the speaker usually made Leonard +laugh. To-night his laugh sounded hollow. "I suppose your Episcopalian +students wear kids and use face powder," he said.</p> + +<p>"There's no harm in kid gloves; inner vileness——"</p> + +<p>"Is very bad, Paula; we'll not discuss it."</p> + +<p>They walked across the Square, on the other side of which she had left +the carriage. She looked up to his face to seek an explanation of the +irritation discoverable in his tone; she noted that his hat was drawn +down over his eyes in a way very unusual. They walked on in silence. +"You will come with me?" she asked, when they had reached the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night. You are right, I am not very well; it is nothing, I will +come out this week. Has Natalie discharged her maid?"</p> + +<p>"Not for any fault. Mrs. Leon was very glad to get Berthe, and as +Natalie is situated——"</p> + +<p>"I see. I hope she is comfortable with Cousin Achsah."</p> + +<p>"They hit it off astonishingly well. The fact is, nobody could help +loving Natalie—I am surprised that you have not been to see her."</p> + +<p>"I know I have seemed negligent. I have a good excuse. Where, in New +York, does Mrs. Leon live?"</p> + +<p>"At the Fifth Avenue Hotel," she replied, wondering at the question.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, after a pause, and treating her answer as though, like +his question, it was of no real interest. "I must not keep you here. You +don't mind going home alone?"</p> + +<p>"I should be glad of your company; aside from that, I don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Then, good-bye," touching her hand for an instant. "Make my excuses to +Mrs. Joe; I have been really very busy. Home, James." He closed the +carriage door and walked rapidly away, leaving Paula vexed, to sink back +in the soft seat and to wonder.</p> + +<p>He walked across the Square to the region of shops and entered a large +grocery store—at this time of day, deserted. "Could you give me a bill +for fifty dollars?" he asked of the cashier.</p> + +<p>"I believe I can, Professor," replied the official, drawing one from the +desk, and exchanging it for the smaller bills handed him by Leonard, who +thanked him and went out. That night he enclosed the single bill in an +envelope, and addressed it to Mademoiselle Berthe, in care of Mrs. Leon.</p> + +<p>As he could have told no man why he had done this, so he could not tell +himself why. Cynics and matrons may smile incredulous, but the kiss he +had given and received had wrought an upheaval in this man's soul. He +who defers his kissing until he has reached maturity has much to learn, +and if the learning comes in a sudden burst of light in still and quiet +chambers, that have until now been dark, the man may well be dazzled.</p> + +<p>He did not think her sordid. He hoped she would understand that he sent +her that which he believed would be of use to her. But when, a week +later, he received a little box and found within it an exquisite pin, +which he, unlearned in such matters, still knew must have cost a large +part of the sum he had sent her, he was pleased, and a thrill passed +through him. Like him, she would remember, nor in her mind would there +be any thought but one of tenderness for a day that could never come +again. It would be a fair memory that would trouble him no more, but +would remain forever fair, of her who had opened to him the portals of a +new and beautiful world.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE WHITE HOUSE, A DAMSEL OR THE DEVIL—WHICH?</h3> + + +<p>When Paula had said to Leonard that Natalie and Miss Claghorn "hit it +off astonishingly well," she had fairly indicated the harmonious +relations prevailing at the White House, as well as the general +astonishment that the elder lady had so graciously received a religious +outcast. It was true that Miss Achsah's innate benevolence was +habitually shrouded in uncompromising orthodoxy, a tough and +non-diaphanous texture, not easily penetrable by futile concern for +souls preordained to eternal death; but Natalie was of her own blood, +one of a long line of elect; furthermore, she had not been seduced by +the blandishments of the Great Serpent, but had cast her lot, where it +truly belonged, among Claghorns; and, finally, the oldest bearer of that +name was doubtless influenced by the fact that the girl was motherless +and friendless, and that she herself, paying the penalty of +independence, was, except as to Tabitha Cone, with whom she lived in +strife, alone.</p> + +<p>Miss Cone also approved of the visitor. This had been originally an +accident. Like the rest of the little world interested, Tabitha had +supposed that Miss Claghorn's reception of a foreign and atheistical +daughter of Beverley Claghorn would be as ungracious as was compatible +with humanity; wherefore Tabitha had been prepared, for her part, to be +extremely affable, foreseeing, with joy, many a battle with her +benefactress wherein she would have an ally; but, taken unawares, by the +time she had grasped the unexpected situation, she had become too +sincere in her admiration to change her role. She chose, however, to +announce an estimate of Natalie's character differing from that of Miss +Claghorn. "She's a Beverley down to her shins," was Miss Cone's +verdict.</p> + +<p>"As much of a Beverley as you are a Claghorn," was Miss Achsah's tart +rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"Which, thank the Lord, I'm not. One's enough in one house. For my part, +I don't admire your strong characters."</p> + +<p>"So that your admiration of Natalie is all pretense. I'm not surprised."</p> + +<p>"She strong! Poor dove, she's Susan Beverley to the life." Which may +have been true, though dove-like Natalie was not.</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn made no reply except by means of a contradictory snort.</p> + +<p>"Now," gravely continued the inwardly jubilant Tabitha, "I call Paula +Lynford a strong character. There's a girl that'll get what she's +after."</p> + +<p>Something ominous in the manner of the speaker arrested the sneer on its +way. "What do you mean?" asked Miss Achsah.</p> + +<p>"What do all girls want—though, to be sure, you've had no experience," +observed Tabitha (who had once contemplated marriage with a mariner, who +had escaped by drowning)—"a husband."</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn laughed. "Very likely. But Paula's husband will need a +dispensation—from the Pope, I suppose—since he calls himself a +Catholic."</p> + +<p>Tabitha echoed the laugh, less nervously and with palpable and unholy +enjoyment. "You mean her cap's set for Father Cameril. She's been +throwing dust in your eyes. She's after a minister, sure enough, but not +that one."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Tabitha Cone?" The tone of the question usually had +the effect of cowing Tabitha, but the temptation was too strong to be +resisted.</p> + +<p>"I mean Leonard Claghorn."</p> + +<p>Miss Achsah gasped. "You slanderous creature," she exclaimed, "Leonard +will never marry a mock-papist—demure puss!"</p> + +<p>"Leonard'll marry to suit himself, and not his forty-fifth cousin." And +with this Tabitha escaped, leaving a rankling arrow.</p> + +<p>As an "atheist," Natalie was a surprise to both inmates of the White +House. Their ideas of atheistic peculiarities were probably vague, but +each had regarded the arrival of the unbeliever with dread. Tabitha had +foreboded profanity, perhaps even inebriety, depravity certainly, and +she had been quite "upset," to use her own expression, by the reality. +Miss Claghorn, with due respect for family traits, had never shared +Tabitha's worst fears, but she had anticipated a very different kind of +person from the person that Natalie actually was. She had pictured a +hard, cynical, intellectual creature, critical as to the shortcomings of +creation, full of "science," and pertly obtrusive with views. She had +feared theological discussion, and though convinced that her armory +(comprised in Dr. Hodge's "Commentary on the Confession of Faith") was +amply furnished to repel atheistic assault, yet she dreaded the onset, +having, perhaps, some distrust of her own capacity for handling her +weapons.</p> + +<p>But the atheist was neither scientific nor argumentative. She was so +graceful, so amiable, in short, so charming, that both old women were +quickly won; so gay that both were surprised to hear their own laughter. +Sufficiently foreign to be of continual interest, and so pleased and +entertained with her new surroundings that they would have been churlish +indeed not to accept her pleasure as flattering to themselves.</p> + +<p>At times, indeed, both had misgivings. The devil is abroad, and it was +conceivable that in the form of this seductive creature he had +audaciously invaded the White House for prey, such as rarely fell into +his toils; but each spinster was too sure of her own call and election +to fear the enemy of souls on her individual account, and Miss Claghorn +doubted whether even the temerity of Satan would suffice for the +hopeless attempt to capture an orthodox Claghorn; and this assurance +aided the belief that Natalie, herself of the elect race, was neither +the devil's emissary, nor in the direful peril that had been feared. She +might think herself an infidel, but her time was not yet come, that was +all.</p> + +<p>"I am sure she has workings of the spirit," she observed to Tabitha. +"She's not always as lighthearted as you think."</p> + +<p>"I don't happen to think it. A good deal of that's put on."</p> + +<p>"Everybody don't experience grace as early as you and I."</p> + +<p>"Specially not in Paris," assented Miss Cone.</p> + +<p>"She was surely guided of the Lord in leaving the influence of Romanism +to——"</p> + +<p>"'Cording to your view she hasn't escaped yet; there's St. Perpetua——"</p> + +<p>"She's too true a Claghorn to be led into that folly."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," observed Miss Cone meditatively, "that the Claghorns are +less foolish than other people. There was 'Liph, her father; 'n there's +Lettie Stanley—then your brother. St. Perpetua's his monument, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Joseph would never have approved St. Perpetua. If he'd been a Catholic, +it wouldn't have been an imitation."</p> + +<p>"His wife ought to know the kind of monument he would have liked. I've +known the Claghorns long enough to know——"</p> + +<p>"You've known some of 'em, to your eternal welfare, Tabitha Cone."</p> + +<p>"I'm not aware that the family was consulted when my election was +foreordained. You think well of 'em, and I won't deny their good +qualities—but I guess the Almighty didn't have to wait until their +creation to manage."</p> + +<p>"You seem very sure of election. I hope you are not to be disappointed, +but you might accept the fact with some humility."</p> + +<p>"Your brother, Natalie's grandfather, had a license to preach—I'm not +aware that you have—he taught me that the fact was to be accepted with +joy and gladness."</p> + +<p>"Joy and gladness are not inconsistent with humility."</p> + +<p>"I'm not denyin' your right to be joyful, but your right to preach."</p> + +<p>"Tabitha Cone, you'd try the patience of a saint!"</p> + +<p>"<i>If</i> I had the opportunity!" And so, with whetted swords they plunged +into the fray.</p> + +<p>The newcomer was graciously welcomed at Stormpoint, though Paula +bewailed her selection of abode, tending, as it did, to frustrate +certain plans, which were to result in alluring Natalie to the +sheltering arms of St. Perpetua. Paula was confident of the courage of +Father Cameril, but even a brave man may hesitate to pluck a jewel from +the den of a lion, and she knew that to such a den the good Father +likened the home of Miss Claghorn.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Joe approved Natalie's choice. "Miss Achsah's her blood +relation," she said.</p> + +<p>"What is blood? An accident. Friendship is born of sympathy," protested +Paula.</p> + +<p>"And since that is the basis of our friendship," observed Natalie, "you +will understand that when my grand-aunt offered me a home on the ground +of duty, I also recognized a duty."</p> + +<p>"A home on the ground of duty," repeated Paula, with as near an approach +to a sneer as she was capable of effecting.</p> + +<p>"Could she feel affection, who had never seen me? Remember, she stood in +the place of mother to my father. I fear she had reason to believe that +the fact had been forgotten."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe nodded approval.</p> + +<p>"Inclination would have led me to you," Natalie proceeded. "It may be, +too, that I was influenced by the hope that I might, in some degree, +brighten the life of an old woman who had outlived her near relations. I +remembered how Cousin Jared, whom we all liked so well, reverenced her. +And then, I approved her pride in the name. I, too, am a Claghorn."</p> + +<p>"In short," commented Mrs. Joe, "you recognized a duty, as I believed +you would, and you did right. Good will come of it," she added, "a bond +between the houses."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the lady's conscience was troubled. She was naturally +candid and hospitable, yet in respect to Natalie, she had done violence +to both attributes. In that invitation, sent in accordance with her +promise to Paula, she had been careful to recognize the prior claim of +Miss Claghorn, thus virtually indicating Natalie's proper course. It had +been hard for her to close the gates of Stormpoint upon one whom she +regarded with affection, yet Mr. Hacket's counsel had outweighed +inclination. That gentleman was, indeed, teaching some hard lessons to +the lady of Stormpoint. It was almost unbearable that this wooden and +yellow man, who secretly aroused all the antagonism of which she was +capable, should direct her domestic affairs; yet she bore it smilingly, +as was seemly in a politician, whose skin may smart, but who must grin. +For, Mr. Hacket's command was wise. To add an infidel to her household +of religious suspects would be a rash act which Hampton might not +forgive. She had no doubt that Natalie's unbelief would become known, +and if it did not, the fact that she was French would presuppose +Romanism, and excite comment. Were Stormpoint to harbor a Papist, one +concerning whom there could be no saving doubt, such as existed for its +present inmates, all her plans might be jeopardized. In the eyes of the +descendants of the Puritans, the adherents of St. Perpetua would be +convicted as followers of the scarlet woman, and if the red rag of +Romanism were flaunted in seeming defiance, Mark's incipient career of +statesmanship might meet with a serious check.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, there was comfort in the thought that all unpleasant +possibilities would be avoided by Natalie's sojourn with Miss Achsah. +Infidel or Romanist, in whatever light regarded, the dwellers in +Easthampton would know with approval that the competent owner of the +White House had the stray sheep in charge, and would anticipate +triumphant rescue of the endangered soul, providentially sheltered where +food of life would be daily offered. There would be also general +satisfaction that to Miss Achsah had been given a task worthy the +exercise of those energies which, in the cause of truth, she was apt to +exhibit in domestic circles not her own, to the great terror of the +members thereof. Mrs. Joe, herself, could find occasion to evince +commendation of the expected efforts of Miss Claghorn, and, while +placating that lady, could emphasize her own Protestantism. In fact, +several birds might be slain with this single stone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>SUR LE PONT D'AVIGNON ON Y DANSE, ON Y DANSE.</h3> + + +<p>It was, perhaps, because she was conscience-stricken that Mrs. Joe +essayed to make atonement to Natalie by being especially confiding with +her. We know, also, that she saw an opportunity of strengthening those +bonds between Stormpoint and the White House, which Mr. Hacket insisted +it was advisable to make as close as possible; for it became day by day +more evident that Miss Achsah had taken her new inmate into her heart of +hearts; other motives there may have been; certain it is that next to +her yellow adviser, whom she loathed with a deeper loathing each time +that she saw him anew, she opened her heart to Natalie in regard to +those cherished projects which concerned Mark.</p> + +<p>"I want to see him famous," she said. "It will be harder for him than +for others, because of this wretched money."</p> + +<p>"He has more talent than most, and, I think, sincerity," replied +Natalie, pausing on the last word.</p> + +<p>The elder lady looked sharply at the speaker. The two were alone +together; occasionally they could hear the strains of Paula's organ from +the distant music-room. "You saw much of him after he left the +University?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was with us constantly for a time." The widow had a fine sense +of hearing, which she strained to the utmost to note what might be told +in the tone that remained untold by the words. She was quite aware that +Mark had been for weeks a daily visitor, if not an actual inmate, of the +household of Beverley Claghorn. She had herself arranged that it should +be so; but she had not then feared possibilities, which had engaged her +thoughts a good deal since she had heard of the rupture between the +Marquise and Natalie. The tone of the girl's voice told her nothing, and +the eyes that met her own were serene.</p> + +<p>"I wished Mark to remain abroad until Stormpoint was complete. I wished +to surprise him, and impress him with the fact that I am in earnest, +that this place is but a means to an end."</p> + +<p>"It is a beautiful and a fitting home for what he is and aspires to be."</p> + +<p>"It will help. What has he said to you about Stormpoint?"</p> + +<p>"You forget that I have not seen him since he made its acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"Surely he was not so neglectful as not to write!"</p> + +<p>"He wrote to my father. I don't recall what he said about Stormpoint."</p> + +<p>The eyes bent upon the girl, who looked steadily out of the window at +the sea, were keen and questioning. "Pardon me, Natalie, I hope the +breach between you and the Marquise is not irreparable," said the lady +softly.</p> + +<p>Natalie looked up smiling. "Indeed, I hope not. I am not angry with her, +though she is with me."</p> + +<p>"I can hardly be sorry that you disappointed her—I never fancied her +lieutenant—but I was surprised. I had supposed the matter settled with +your consent."</p> + +<p>"My dear father, it seems, did so arrange it. I quite appreciate her +standpoint and know that she has much to forgive. Naturally, she +approves of the customs of her country. Unfortunately, I was not trained +strictly <i>à la mode Française</i>."</p> + +<p>"The French custom as regards betrothal is repulsive; but I supposed you +were French—and——"</p> + +<p>"I must have inherited independent views. I might have acquiesced had I +not seen too much of Adolphe. You are not to think badly of him—only +that he is unendurable."</p> + +<p>"That is more damning than faint praise," laughed Mrs. Joe; "but I +understand. Well, my dear, since you decline to become a 'female +Markis,' as Mr. Weller has it, we must do as well for you as possible in +a republic that offers no nobles."</p> + +<p>"I am quite content with things as they are."</p> + +<p>"That, of course, is eminently proper; but we are all slaves of destiny +and there is one always possible to maidens. We shall select a permanent +city home as soon as I can consult Mark; meanwhile we shall not spend +our winters here; and in the winter Miss Achsah must reward our +forbearance by surrendering you to us."</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to be with you and Paula sometimes; but, Mrs. Joe, you +know I am only visiting my aunt. I intend to have a home of my own."</p> + +<p>"That will come. Perhaps it will be with me for a time, if you can bear +with another old woman. Mark and Paula will want their own +establishment. Of course, they'll have Stormpoint."</p> + +<p>She had sped her bolt. If it had been needless, it was harmless; if it +had wounded, so much the more was it needed. But she felt mean—in the +proper frame to meet Mr. Hacket, who was announced, to the relief of +both.</p> + +<p>The distant organ notes must have been pleasing to the ear, for, after +Mrs. Joe had gone, Natalie sat long, listening and motionless; they must +have been tender, for tears glistened in her eyes. When they ceased she +rose and left the room and the house. In the grounds she found Paula, +who said, "I came out at this moment, and saw that," pointing to the +buggy; "then I knew that you would soon be here."</p> + +<p>They strolled to a sheltered nook of the cliffside, and thence looked +out upon the silver sea, peaceful under the summer sky.</p> + +<p>"One could hardly believe that it could ever be angry," said Paula, "but +you shall see it in fury; then it will be awful."</p> + +<p>"It is awful now."</p> + +<p>"Now!" exclaimed Paula. "Why, it is as serene as the sky above it."</p> + +<p>"But think what it hides. Listen to the moan; see the swell of its heavy +sighs."</p> + +<p>"Natalie, I have discovered something!"</p> + +<p>"Like Columbus," laughed Natalie.</p> + +<p>"You are like the sea to-day. The surface wavelets laugh in the glint of +the sun; but sadness is beneath. The sea hides sorrow; and you are so. +You and Mark——"</p> + +<p>And there she stopped. The other knew why. Paula was looking straight at +her face, and she knew that her face had suddenly told a story.</p> + +<p>"Does the sea remind you of Mark?" she asked in even tones, guarding her +secret in her manner of utterance.</p> + +<p>"Of both of you," answered Paula, who had quickly turned a somewhat +troubled gaze upon the water. "Natalie," she added, rather hurriedly, +"there is a balm for every sorrow, a sure one. <i>That</i>"—she slightly +emphasized the word—"is why I thought of you in connection with Mark. +Ah, if he were only religious!"</p> + +<p>"Then he would be perfect, you think." She laughed, and Paula laughed, +but the merriment seemed hollow.</p> + +<p>"Nobody can be perfect," said Paula, after the pause which had followed +the unmeaning mirth. She spoke in a low tone and timidly, but for that +reason all the more engagingly; "but so far as perfection can be +attained, it can only be with the aid of religion."</p> + +<p>It was one of the words in season, which Natalie had become accustomed +to hear from those about her, and which from this exhorter she always +liked to hear. There was an atmosphere of calm about Paula and a +serenity in her face which fascinated the unbeliever. And her +admonitions, if timidly uttered, were sincere. It was as though the +young preacher, though longing for a convert, feared to frighten the +disciple away.</p> + +<p>Natalie bent over and kissed the girl's cheek. "Is he unhappy? Mark, I +mean."</p> + +<p>"His life is evidence that he is not happy. He wanders aimlessly. Cousin +Alice built Stormpoint for him, yet he leaves it."</p> + +<p>"His large interests compel his wanderings."</p> + +<p>"He has agents who make them unnecessary. Cousin Alice needs him."</p> + +<p>"You would be glad to have him home?"</p> + +<p>Paula looked up; her sparkling eyes answered the question. There was a +pause.</p> + +<p>"I hope he will come," said Natalie, after awhile, "and that you will +have your wish."</p> + +<p>"That he will become religious? I pray for it, so it must come."</p> + +<p>Natalie took her hand and held it. "And you believe that religion +insures happiness?" She was willing to hold on to this topic.</p> + +<p>"I know it. The peace of God which passeth understanding. Do not turn +from it, Natalie."</p> + +<p>"I do not. I am not a scoffer. I think that I, too, could love God, only +I am densely ignorant."</p> + +<p>"But you can be enlightened. Father Cameril——"</p> + +<p>Natalie smiled. "I hardly think he would be the teacher I would choose. +I would prefer you."</p> + +<p>"To enlighten your ignorance! I am myself ignorant. I believe—I know no +more." This sounded prettily from pretty lips, and Paula was honest; +but, as a matter of fact, she had some theological pretensions, a truth +which she for the moment forgot.</p> + +<p>"How is that possible?" asked the infidel. "I could believe, if I knew."</p> + +<p>"We cannot understand everything."</p> + +<p>"No—almost nothing, therefore——"</p> + +<p>"We have a revelation."</p> + +<p>"Which reveals nothing to me. I wish it did."</p> + +<p>"Natalie, you demand too much. We are not permitted to know everything. +We cannot be divine."</p> + +<p>"And yet we can speak very positively; as if, indeed, we knew it +all—some of us. But if nobody knows, nobody can be sure."</p> + +<p>"I cannot argue; but I can tell you who tells me. God Himself. God +speaks to the heart."</p> + +<p>"Paula," cried the other, with startling earnestness, "I, too, have a +heart. Teach me how to believe, and of all the wise you will be the +wisest. Do I not know that life is barren? that the love of man cannot +fill the heart? Ah! Paula, if that can do it, teach me the love of God!"</p> + +<p>The tone rose almost to a cry. Paula was awed as a perception of the +truth came upon her that here was a skeptic with religious longings +greater than her own. "Natalie," she murmured, hiding her face on the +shoulder of her companion, "we are told to ask. Pray, Natalie, to the +One that knows it all."</p> + +<p>"And will you pray for me?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"And do you pray for Mark?"</p> + +<p>"Surely."</p> + +<p>"And you know that my prayers will be answered?"</p> + +<p>"I know it—in God's good time."</p> + +<p>"I will pray, Paula."</p> + +<p>They kissed one another, as though sealing a compact. No doubt Paula +breathed a petition for her who, still in darkness, craved for light. +Natalie prayed for the happiness of Mark Claghorn, and that she might +forget him and resign him to the saint whose lips she pressed.</p> + +<p>Then she went home. In the hall of the White House she met Tabitha. +"Come!" she exclaimed, seizing that elderly damsel about the waist. +"<i>Dansons</i>, Tabitha; hop, skip! <i>Sur le pont d'Avignon on y danse, on y +danse!</i>" and she trilled her lay and whirled the astonished spinster +around until both were breathless.</p> + +<p>"My sakes! Have you gone crazy?" exclaimed Tabitha.</p> + +<p>"Come to my senses!" replied Natalie, laughing merrily.</p> + +<p>"I never saw you so French before," was Tabitha's comment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>WARBLINGS IN THE WHITE HOUSE AND SNARES FOR A SOUL.</h3> + + +<p>Achsah Claghorn, for many years lonely, with maternal instincts steadily +suppressed, had found the first opportunity of a long life to gratify +cravings of which she had been until now unconscious. Coyly, even with +trembling, she sought the love of her grand-niece, being herself +astonished, as much as she astonished others, by an indulgent tenderness +seemingly foreign to her character. Grandmothers, though once severe as +mothers, are often overfond in their last maternal role, and it may be +that Miss Claghorn pleased herself by the fiction of a relationship +which, though not actually existent, had some foundation in long-past +conditions.</p> + +<p>"Did your father never speak of me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Often, Aunt. Especially of late years, after we had met Cousin Jared."</p> + +<p>"But not with much affection?"</p> + +<p>Natalie was somewhat at a loss. "He said you were his second mother," +was her reply.</p> + +<p>"Poor Susan—that was your grandmother, my dear. She was a gentle, +loving creature. I think now, though perhaps I did not at the time, that +'Liph was lonely after she died. Ours was a dull house," she continued, +after a pause. "Your grandfather lived more in heaven than on earth, +which made it gloomy for us that didn't. Saints are not comfortable to +live with, and 'Liph was often in disgrace. I hope I was never hard to a +motherless boy, but—but——"</p> + +<p>"I am sure you were not. My father never said so."</p> + +<p>"Yet he forgot me. Perhaps it was pleasanter not to remember."</p> + +<p>There was no reply to make. Natalie knew that her father had been so +well content to forget his relatives that, until the unexpected meeting +in Germany, her own knowledge of the Claghorns had been very vague.</p> + +<p>"'Liph did write me when he married, even promised to come and see me, +but he never came."</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn forgot the fact that in reply to her nephew's letter she +had deplored his connection with Romanism and had urged instant +attention to the duty of converting his wife. The philosopher may have +justly enough felt that there could be but little sympathy between +himself and one whose congratulations on his nuptials were in part a +wail of regret, in part an admonitory sermon.</p> + +<p>"You know, Aunt, he did intend to come."</p> + +<p>"To see Mrs. Joe—well, no doubt he would have been glad to see me, too. +I am sorry we never met after so many years."</p> + +<p>Besides the tenderness displayed to Natalie alone, there were evidences +of change in the mistress of the White House, apparent to all; and while +these were properly ascribed to the new inmate, the fact that that +influence could work such wonders excited surprise. The neighbors were +astonished to behold the novel sight of perennially open parlor windows, +and thought with misgiving upon the effect of sunshine on Miss +Claghorn's furniture. At times strange sounds issued from the hitherto +silent dwelling, operatic melodies, or snatches of chansons, trilled +forth in a foreign tongue. "The tunes actually get into my legs," +observed Tabitha to a neighbor. "The sobber de mong pare'd make an elder +dance," an assertion which astonished the neighbor less than Miss Cone's +familiarity with the French language. But comment was actually stricken +dumb when both Miss Claghorn and Tabitha appeared in public with sprigs +of color in their headgear and visible here and there upon their +raiment.</p> + +<p>"I believe you'd bewitch Old Nick himself," observed Tabitha.</p> + +<p>"I have," replied Natalie. "He's promised me a shrub."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean Nick that brings the garden sass," and the spinster +groaned at the benighted condition of one so ignorant as to fail to +recognize a familiar appellation of the enemy of souls. "You've worked +your grand-aunt out of a horse."</p> + +<p>"Your voice is that of an oracle, Tab, and I, who am stupid, do not +understand."</p> + +<p>"She's going to give you a horse."</p> + +<p>"Then should you not rather say that I have worked a horse out of my +grand-aunt? which is still oracular; wherefore expound, Tab."</p> + +<p>"She told me herself. It's my belief she's in love with you. She'd give +you her head, if you asked."</p> + +<p>"She's given me her heart, which is better. And so have you; and you're +both ashamed of it. Why is that, Tabby?"</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Tabitha, making no denial, "you see we're not +French—thank God! When we were young we were kept down, as was the +fashion."</p> + +<p>"I do not like that fashion."</p> + +<p>"You'd like it less if you knew anything about it. It has to come out +some time; that's the reason your songs get into my legs, and——"</p> + +<p>"And?" questioningly, for Tabitha had paused.</p> + +<p>"Well, your aunt was never in love—never had the chance, 's far's I +know; but if she had, it had to be kept down—and now it comes out. +Lucky it didn't strike an elder with a raft of children and no money."</p> + +<p>"Much better that it has struck me than an elder—that will be a friar. +I have no children, some money and a whole heart. But this tale of a +horse?"</p> + +<p>"Ever since you told us about ridin' in the Bawdy Bolone she's had +Leonard on the lookout. He's found one over to Moffat's. She wants you +to look at it before she buys."</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"I know—you've money of your own to buy horses. That's what she's +afraid you'll say. You mustn't. She's set her heart on it."</p> + +<p>The horse was accepted without demur, if with some secret misgiving as +to adding a new link to the chain which was binding her to Easthampton; +and it was peculiarly grateful. Ever since that day when Natalie had +astonished Tabitha by improvising a waltz, her gaiety had been +feverish, almost extravagant, the result of a craving for physical +excitement; the desire to jump, to run, to leap, to execute for +Tabitha's delectation dances which would have made Miss Claghorn stare. +The horse in some degree filled the craving. She rode constantly, +sometimes alone, galloping wildly in secluded lanes; sometimes sedately +with Paula and an attendant; often with Leonard, an ardent equestrian, a +fact not forgotten by the donor of the horse when the gift was made.</p> + +<p>In the eyes of Miss Achsah, as in other eyes, Leonard embodied the +finest type of the fine race to which he belonged, combining in his +person physical graces not generally vouchsafed to these favorites of +heaven, as well as those nobler attributes with which they had been so +liberally endowed, and which rendered them worthy of the celestial +preference. It was religious to believe that these graces of person and +of manner were not given without a purpose, and aided by the same pious +deduction which usually recognizes in similar charms a snare of Satan, +Miss Claghorn beheld in this instance a device of Providence for winning +a soul.</p> + +<p>Besides the facilities for conversion thus utilized, Miss Achsah +discerned other grounds for hope. In the frequent lapses into +thoughtfulness, even sadness, on the part of the unbeliever, she +recognized the beginning of that spiritual agitation which was to result +in the complete submission of the erring soul to heaven; nor was she +negligent in dropping those words which, dropped in season, may afford +savory and sustaining food to a hungry spirit. Had Natalie displayed +that mental agony and tribulation which naturally accompanies the fear +of hell, and which is, therefore, a frequent preliminary terror of +conversion, Miss Claghorn would have called in her pastor, as in +physical ills she would have called in the doctor; but since Natalie +displayed nothing more than frequent thoughtfulness and melancholy, and, +as with some natures (and the lady knew it was true of the Claghorn +nature) antagonism is aroused by over-solicitude, she easily persuaded +herself that, for the present at least, the case was better in the +competent hands of Leonard, to whom she solemnly confided it. She feared +the treatment of a more experienced, yet perhaps harsher practitioner, +whose first idea would be the necessity of combating Romanism. For the +secret of Natalie's unbelief remained undisclosed, and Miss Claghorn +dreaded such disclosure as sure to bring disgrace upon the family name. +Finally, she had another reason, not the least important, for providing +Leonard with the chance of winning that soul, which she hoped would +become for him the most precious of the souls of men.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE SECRET OF HER HEART WAS NEVER TO BE TOLD BY HER TO HIM.</h3> + + +<p>"She must be warned from Father Cameril," said Miss Claghorn.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose <i>he</i> could influence her?" observed Leonard scornfully. +"I shall not forget my duty, Cousin Achsah. Meanwhile, remember that she +is a Claghorn. That means something."</p> + +<p>"A great deal; still, there was her father—and Lettie Stanley——"</p> + +<p>"I think you are rather hard on her. I believe that Mrs. Stanley is a +good woman."</p> + +<p>"Will goodness alone attain heaven?"</p> + +<p>Leonard did not answer. Mrs. Stanley's chances of heaven had no great +interest for him.</p> + +<p>If he seemed somewhat less solicitous than Miss Claghorn had expected it +was because already his musings were tending in a direction not +theological. "How lovely she is!" This had been his thought on his first +visit to Easthampton, while Natalie's little hand still lay in his in +welcome. He noted, as he watched her afterward, the fitful sadness of +her eyes, and longed to share her unknown sorrow. He saw the ripe red +lips and his bosom glowed, his eyes grew dreamy and his cheeks flushed +pink. He had never, so Paula averred, been as handsome as on that +evening.</p> + +<p>He was now a daily visitor, equally welcome at the White House or at +Stormpoint, and the relations between the two establishments were such +that a hope arose within the bosom of Mrs. Joe that she might be able to +report to Mr. Hacket that Miss Claghorn had actually dined with the +Bishop. She ventured to confide to Miss Achsah certain aspirations in +regard to Mark, and her confidence was well received and her plans +applauded. Miss Claghorn thought it fitting that Mark, who was nearer +to her in blood than Leonard, should assume in worldly affairs that +eminence which in higher matters would be Leonard's. It was plain that +when the time came such influence as she possessed would be used in +Mark's behalf, barring some untoward circumstance, which Mrs. Joe was +resolved should not occur. And to prevent it she warned Father Cameril +that his wiles were not to be practised upon Natalie. His prayers, her +own and Paula's, she informed him, must, for the present, suffice. She +was aware that Miss Claghorn had personally taken charge of a matter +which, to do Mrs. Joe justice, she regarded as of supreme importance. +But, St. Perpetua notwithstanding, her opinions were liberal. She +supposed that good people went to heaven, and she was not sternly rigid +in her definition of goodness. As to where bad people went, her ideas +were vague. She did not question Miss Claghorn's Christianity, though +she did not admire its quality, but she knew that on the first attempt +to entice Natalie by the allurements presented by St. Perpetua, the +bonds of amity now existing would be strained. She even went so far as +to assure her sister-in-law that Father Cameril should be "kept in his +place," an assurance which was accepted with the grim rejoinder that it +were well that he be so kept.</p> + +<p>Wherefore, it would seem that those exalted aspirations which had warmed +Leonard's bosom, when he had learned from Paula that his French cousin +was to be a resident of Easthampton, would be reawakened, and that he +would gladly attempt their realization. Alas! other, and more alluring +visions, engaged his senses.</p> + +<p>To say that he had loved the maid, Berthe, is only to say that which +would be true of any man of similar temperament under similar +circumstances. The kiss of those lips, over which he had so rapturously +lingered, had been his first taste of passion. It may be a sorrowful, +but it is not a surprising, fact, that it should affect him violently +and color his dreams of a sentiment hitherto unknown. He had taken a +long step in a pathway which was to lead him far, though he was as +ignorant of the fact as he was of the fact that, in this respect, his +education had commenced unfortunately.</p> + +<p>He was sufficiently a man of the world to be aware that the emotion in +which he had reveled could have no satisfactory result. He would no more +have considered the advisability of marrying Natalie's maid than would +the Marquis de Fleury; and as to any other possibility, such as +perchance might have occupied the mind of the noble Marquis, it never +even entered his thoughts. In his ignorance he was innocent, and had he +been less so, would still have possessed in the moral lessons of his +training a sufficient safeguard. Yet the kiss was to have its results. +Woman's lips would, to him, bear a different aspect from that of +heretofore.</p> + +<p>And so the days passed very happily, though Leonard's conscience often +pricked him. Natalie's soul was still in danger.</p> + +<p>"Cousin," he said one day—they were sitting among the trees of +Stormpoint, the girl sketching, he watching her—"Do you——?" He +stopped, blushing.</p> + +<p>She thought the blush very engaging as she looked up with a smile. Women +rarely looked upon the handsome, innocent face, except smilingly. "Do I +what, Leonard?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever think of religion? I am a clergyman, Natalie."</p> + +<p>"I think a great deal of religion." Her eyes fell before his. He had +touched a secret corner of her heart, and at first she shrank; yet the +touch pleased her; not less so because of his manner which, though he +was secretly ashamed of it, was in his favor. It was not easy for him to +discuss the topic with her, to play the role of teacher and enlarge upon +a theme which was far from his thoughts. The fact lent him the grace of +embarrassment, leading her to believe that the topic was to him a sacred +one. Truly, her soul was burdened. Who more apt to aid her than this +young devotee, who had consecrated a life to that knowledge for which +she yearned?</p> + +<p>"You know, Natalie, as a minister——"</p> + +<p>"It is your duty to convert me," she interrupted, looking again upward, +and smiling. "That is what Tabitha says."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Tabitha is right. I think I ought."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you were to try, what would you have me do?"</p> + +<p>What would he have her do? The man within him cried: "I would have you +love me, kiss me, pillow my head upon your breast and let me die there!" +But the man within him was audible only to him. "I would advise you to +read"—he stopped. What he had been about to say was so utterly +incongruous—to advise reading the Westminster Confession, when he +longed to call upon her to read the secrets of his soul!</p> + +<p>"I have read enough," she answered. "Lately I have done better"—she +hesitated; he noted the flushed cheek and downcast eyes, the tremulous +tone of her voice. She was affected, he believed, religiously. He +remembered the day on the terrace of Heidelberg, when he had so yearned +over the wandering soul, and again with his love—for he knew it was +love, and always had been—was mingled the higher aspiration to +reconcile the wayward spirit with its Maker. He would have taken her +hand, but he felt tremulously shy. "What have you done?" he asked +gently.</p> + +<p>Much had been told her of the sweet relief of confession to a priest. +Here was a confessor, sympathetic, she knew from his tone. Yet she had +no sins to confess (belief in which incongruity demonstrates her state +of darkness).</p> + +<p>"I—have prayed," she said at length, and the shy admission seemed to +create a bond between them. Another shared her confidence, and the fact +lightened her spirit. She told herself it was so, and had it been true +the future might have been brighter; but the real secret of her heart +was never to be told by her to him. She looked up, a faint sheen of +tears in her eyes, a smile upon her lips.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you have done better," he answered, the eyes and the smile +summoning that inner man with a power hard to resist. "You need no +guidance from me," he said huskily. "God bless and help you, Natalie!" +He placed a trembling hand upon her head, as was seemly in a priest, +and, turning abruptly, walked away.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she sighed, as she watched him. "There must be something in +religion. Fräulein Rothe was right, and my dear father was wrong."</p> + +<p>Thus Leonard's fears concerning Natalie's salvation were quieted. If she +prayed, it was plain that she was called, and though her ears might +still be deaf, she would hear in the appointed time.</p> + +<p>Had he comprehended her utter misapprehension as to orthodox tenets, he +might have been awakened to a stricter sense of duty. But this was his +first heathen, and he is hardly to be blamed that he did not recognize +the extent of her ignorance; or, in his lack of knowledge of humanity, +at all to be blamed that he failed to discern the true nature of her +religious cravings, alluring to her soul because her soul was hungry; +for God, perhaps—for who shall say that God has no part in human +love?—but not for Leonard's God. He had never been informed of the +deceased philosopher's method of training, and would, certainly, have +doubted its success had he known of it. That one could attain years of +discretion in a Christian country, lacking even an elementary knowledge +of Christian doctrine, would have been to Leonard incredible. He could +not remember the time that he had not known that in Adam's fall we all +fell, and that had there been no Atonement there would be no Salvation. +For so much, and similar doctrinal essentials, he accorded Natalie full +credit; and, since she had escaped the taint of Romanism, he felt that +no real obstacle stood in the way of her growth in grace.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Natalie had no more knowledge that, unless her name had been +from before creation inscribed upon the roll of the elect, she must, for +the glory of God, infallibly be damned, than has a Patagonian. She felt +that outside of humanity there was something on which humanity must +lean, and that it was God. Priests, sisters of charity and sweet girls +like Paula knew about God, and all these had told her that the way to +find out what they knew was to pray; and, in her outer darkness, she +prayed, her prayers the prayers of a heathen; not heard in heaven, if we +are correctly informed as to heaven's willingness to hear. Yet to her +they brought some solace. And in her petitions for enlightenment of her +ignorance, she besought happiness for others, not for Mark Claghorn +only; henceforth she included the name of Leonard.</p> + +<p>As for him, he was no longer haunted by troublesome recollections of +Berthe. He thought of her, it is true, and with tenderness, though with +a smile, and accusing himself of youthfulness. He was now sure that he +had never seriously loved her. It had been a <i>penchant</i>, a <i>petit +amour</i>—the Gallic flavor of the words was not altogether +ungrateful—and the experience would have its uses. These things +happened to some men; happy they who escaped them; a humdrum life was +safer. Sinning was dangerous; to weaklings, fatal; such a one would have +been burned in the ordeal of fire. He had escaped, nor had he any +intention of being again taken unawares. He did not attempt to palliate +the grave wrong of which he had been guilty; he would have resented such +palliation on the part of an apologist. In certain sins there lurks a +tinge of glory, and one has a right, accepting the blame, to appropriate +the glory. But his resolve that the one misstep should be the last, as +it had been the first of his life, was sternly made. He was strong now, +and was glad to admit that much of his strength derived its power from a +sweeter passion glowing in his bosom. His heart swelled with joy that he +could love, feeling only such misgivings as lovers must. It was a sin to +love and long for Berthe whom he wouldn't marry. To transfer to Natalie +the love he had given to Berthe, to hunger and to burn, to feed his eyes +upon the outward form, unheeding the fairer creature within, to revel in +visions and forbidden dreams—this was love, this the lesson his +carefully guarded life had prepared him to learn from wanton lips.</p> + +<p>Who, being in love, has not shown himself to the loved one at his best? +If he was unquiet within, he was sufficiently tranquil in manner to +avoid any startling manifestation of ardor. If there was art in the +graceful coyness of his approach, it was unconscious art. To Natalie he +appeared with more alluring gentleness, and surer fascination, than the +most practised veteran of love's battles. She had seen chivalrous +elegance so studied as to charm by its seeming unaffectedness; but the +most successful picture is not reality, and in Leonard she noted the +nature superior to art; nature softened and adorned by demeanor graced +and made tender by the inward tremors of love, as a rugged landscape is +beautified by the mellow tint of a gray day.</p> + +<p>Above all, though if this was known in secret it was unconfessed, was +Leonard aided by that which was to be forever hidden in the woman's +heart. There were rumors of Mark's return, rumors which agitated +Natalie, strive as she might to look forward to that return without +emotion. How could she leave the home where love had been so generously +bestowed? Mrs. Joe would no longer be ashamed that she had given her +warning—and Natalie had not been sorry to believe that the lady was +ashamed—for she would know that it had been needed. And Miss +Claghorn—how would she understand it? How Paula? Perhaps she saw, if +but dimly yet, an escape from the perplexities which inspired the +questions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>A LOVER WRITES A LETTER.</h3> + + +<p>If a Parisian philosopher, animated by the love of that wisdom which is +deducible by philosophic methods from the study of mankind, had emerged +from his abode, on a certain summer evening, in quest of the solution of +that great riddle, Why is this thus? and, seeking an answer, had scanned +the visages of the passers upon the Boulevard, he would, perhaps, have +noticed the face and bearing of a man who strolled alone and listless; +and, it being a fine evening of early summer, at an hour when, +philosophers having dined, are ruminative, he might have fallen into +speculation, and asking himself the meaning of this man's face, would, +perhaps, have deduced discontent, becoming habitual and tending toward +cynicism; and if a philosopher of the weeping, rather than the laughing +variety, he would have mourned over the atom of humanity, beneath whose +careworn lines and shadows of dissatisfaction there lay forgotten noble +promise. And, to sum up the philosophic conclusions (for, like other +philosophers, our hypothetical lover of wisdom is growing tiresome) he, +being aware of the cause of much mundane misery, might have decided that +the man had lost money, and would have been wrong, for the man was one +whom financial loss could hardly touch. The Great Serpent might refuse +to yield for weeks, aye forever, and Mark Claghorn would have been +content. In truth, its annual product was a burden heavier than he +thought he ought, in fairness, to be called upon to bear. He liked +companionship, being naturally well disposed toward his fellows, yet, as +he said to himself, the loneliness of this evening stroll in the centre +of mirth and good fellowship had its reason in his wealth. A man such as +he, so he told himself, is forced, in the nature of things, to purchase +all the joys of life, and being purchased they had but slight attraction +for him; thus ordinarily he was solitary and somewhat given to +brooding, though wise enough to utter no complaint on a score wherein he +certainly would have found but slight sympathy.</p> + +<p>He strolled on, paying little heed to any, except when occasionally the +clank of a sabre or the faint jingle of a spur signified a cavalryman in +the vicinity; then he would glance at the cavalryman, and with a quickly +satisfied curiosity, pass on, listless as before.</p> + +<p>He entered a cafe, and calling for a "bock," lit a cigar and proceeded +to seek distraction in tobacco and beer, while looking over the pages of +the "<i>Vie Parisienne</i>," but apparently found no amusement in that very +Gallic periodical. At last he drew a letter from his pocket. "Little +Paula," he muttered, as he opened the sheet, and his tone was kindly, if +not tender. "I suppose, in the end, my mother will see the fulfilment of +the wish she thinks so carefully concealed," he muttered, and then, as +if to find encouragement to filial duty in the letter itself, he +commenced to read, and was thus engaged when he felt a hand upon his +shoulder, and heard the exclamation, "Claghorn!" He looked up and, +rising, accepted the outstretched hand of Adolphe de Fleury.</p> + +<p>"I was not sure whether it was you or your ghost," said Adolphe. "When +did you leave America?"</p> + +<p>"Over a year since," replied Mark; then, unmindful of the look of +surprise in the face of his companion, he added: "I hoped I might meet +you. I am only here for a few hours, and the opportunity to congratulate +you——"</p> + +<p>"To congratulate! May I ask why I am to be congratulated?" interrupted +the lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"Usually a newly married man; or one about to be——"</p> + +<p>"Claghorn, you can hardly—do you mean that you believed me married?"</p> + +<p>"Married, or about to be. I heard from the Marquise while at St. +Petersburg——"</p> + +<p>"And I have suspected you! Know, my dear fellow, though I had rather you +heard it from somebody else, that I am very far from married. I am +jilted; abandoned by our fair but cruel cousin, who has fled from my +mother's protection and taken refuge among the Yankees."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that Natalie is in America?"</p> + +<p>"Just that, <i>mon cher</i>, and with her Berthe of the wonderful eyes."</p> + +<p>Mark's innocence of all knowledge of the fact stated was evident in his +face. He was astounded; at the same time a sense of joy swept across his +soul. He looked hastily at his watch; it was too late to call upon the +Marquise, unless, indeed, she had company, in which case he would not be +able to see her alone. But, looking at his watch inspired him with an +excuse to plead an appointment, which he did, and left his companion.</p> + +<p>The next day he called upon Madame de Fleury, and on his return to his +hotel, he wrote the following letter:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My Dear Cousin Natalie—Last night I arrived here direct from +St. Petersburg, being merely a bird of passage, and on my way +to London. I had expected to be there by this time, but after +meeting Adolphe de Fleury, I deferred my departure until I +could see the Marquise. Doubtless, my letters in London will +convey the information which has been imparted by her. To say +that I was surprised to hear that you had gone to America +hardly expresses my feeling; but surprise is cast into the +shade by gratification. Now that your reasons for the step you +have taken have been so freely disclosed to me by Madame de +Fleury (who insisted upon reading to me passages from your +letters), I hope you will not regard it as intrusive in me if I +express my admiration of your independence and complete +approbation of your conduct. You are in spirit a true American, +and I congratulate both you and our country upon the fact. Do +you remember the day I said 'good-bye' to you? Had you then any +inkling of the true reason for my adieu? Your father had just +informed me that since girlhood you had been the betrothed of +Adolphe de Fleury. Monsieur Claghorn at the time assured me +that had not this been the case I should have had his good +wishes in regard to the aspirations I had just laid before him. +I have never laid those aspirations before you, nor can I do so +adequately in a letter; nor at this time, when so long a period +has elapsed since I last saw you. What I have to say must be +said in person, and so unsatisfactory is this method of +addressing you on the subject that I may not send this letter.</p> + +<p>"But, if you receive it, understand why I write it. It seems, +perhaps, laughable—though it does not seem so to me—that I +should be haunted by a terror which darkens the new hope that +has arisen within me. You are thousands of miles away. True, it +is not easily conceivable that you may become lost to me in so +brief a residence in America, yet the idea is constantly with +me. I blame that which I then believed the honorable reticence +which I ought to maintain toward you after my interview with +your father, and having heard his assurances of intentions, +which I, of course, supposed were approved by you. Had I shown +you the least glimpse of a sentiment which it cost me much to +conceal, I might now be freed from the dread which oppresses +me. I am even tempted to send you a telegraphic message; yet I +picture you reading such a message and shrink from seeming +ridiculous in your eyes. As to this letter, I am impelled to +say as much as I have said while that which I desire to say is +plainly enough indicated. I had supposed it possible to +disclose and yet conceal it. But the letter is wiser than I +intended it to be. My most ardent hope is that within a few +days after its receipt you will listen to all that is here +omitted.</p> + +<p>"Faithfully,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mark Claghorn.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>He sent the letter, unsatisfactory and feeble as he knew it to be. He +chafed at the necessity of deferring his departure for America; but the +Great Serpent was importunate, and even for love a man cannot disregard +the claims of others. Engagements connected with the mine, made long +since, must receive attention before he could leave Europe.</p> + +<p>But, during the intervals of business, even pending its details, he was +hourly tempted to send a dispatch and be ridiculous. But he refrained. +He sailed for America four days after sending the letter. He had not +been absurd; his dignity was saved. Who that is wise in a wise +generation listens to intuitions?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>A KISS THAT MIGHT HAVE LINGERED ON HIS LIPS WHILE SEEKING ENTRANCE AT +THE GATE OF HEAVEN.</h3> + + +<p>At the foot of the cliff whereon Mrs. Joe had erected a monument to the +Great Serpent in the form of a castle, the ocean beats in calm weather +with a sullen persistence which increases with the rising wind from +spiteful lashing into furious pounding against the unshaken crag, +accompanied by a roar of futile rage. Stormpoint affords no nook of +shelter for a distressed craft, and the rocks, submerged beneath the +vexed waters, render the coast hereabout even more dangerous than does +the sheer wall of stone which appals the mariner caught in the storm and +driven shoreward. Once around the point, the little harbor of +Easthampton offers safety, but it has happened that vessels, unable to +weather Stormpoint, have been dashed against the rocks and human beings +have been tossed about in the seething foam beneath the crags; or men +have clung to wreckage in sight of wailing wives and mothers, and of +children to be orphaned in the rush of the next black billow.</p> + +<p>From the rocks hereabout no lifeboat can be launched at times when +lifeboats are needed, therefore the coast-guard station is nearer the +harbor, where there is a beach upon which the waves slide upward, +spending their strength, and where even in the storm they can be ridden +by resolute men; but no boat can live among the rocks in the raging +waters beneath the cliff. And so, Mrs. Joe, with the approval of the +authorities, had built on the ledge of the cliffside (enlarged and +widened for the purpose) a house, in which were kept appliances for +casting lines athwart wrecked craft. There were plenty to ridicule the +benevolent lady, some on the score of the futility of preparing for an +improbable disaster (less than a dozen ships had been lost there in a +century; and probably not, in all that time, a hundred lives); others +because while yet another ship might be driven thither, no human effort +could then avert her doom. Mrs. Joe, notwithstanding these arguments, +carried out her intention, and waited, hoping that she would never be +justified by the event.</p> + +<p>One day Natalie and Leonard were in the "wreck house," as the structure +had come to be called; a high wind, constantly increasing, was blowing, +and from their position they saw all the grandeur of the ocean, rolling +in majesty toward the wall of rock, an assailing mass, seeming inspired +with malevolent intelligence and boundless strength, but, caught by the +sunken rocks, the onset would be broken, and, bellowing with rage, each +mighty billow would recede, only to be followed by another, as angry and +as awful of aspect as the last.</p> + +<p>It was a sight before which human passion was cowed and human pride was +humbled. As Leonard watched Natalie, silently contemplating the grandeur +of the scene, her dark hair blowing back from the smooth white brow, +beneath which eyes, as unfathomable as the ocean itself, looked +yearningly out into the storm, he had a clear perception that the +emotions he had harbored and nourished as to this woman were unworthy of +the soul in her fathomless eyes. In the presence of nature, feebly +stirred as yet, but with a promise of the mighty strength restrained, +and perhaps, too, his nobler self responding unconsciously to the purity +of the woman at his side, the grosser passion that had vexed him was +subdued; desire for the woman was lost in desire to share the woman's +heart.</p> + +<p>The darkening heavens sinking into the gloom of the ocean, where in the +distance the rolling masses of cloud and water seemed to meet, the +roaring wind, the waves booming on the cliff, and the boiling cauldron +of death beneath their feet—in the presence of these things words could +not utter thoughts unutterable; they stood long silent.</p> + +<p>"Who, then, is this, that He commandeth even the winds and the water, +and they obey Him?" Leonard heard her murmur these words.</p> + +<p>"Who, indeed?" he said. "How can man deny God in the face of this?"</p> + +<p>"In the face of anything?"</p> + +<p>"Or deny His Revelation? Natalie, it is true."</p> + +<p>"Is it true?"</p> + +<p>"As true as the waters or the sky—Natalie, Natalie, it is true."</p> + +<p>His tone trembled with a tenderness deeper than the tenderness of +passion. She looked and saw his eyes with a sheen of tears upon them; no +gleam of earthly desire looked out of them, but the yearning for a soul. +In the presence of the Majesty of God the nobler spirit had awakened and +answered to the longing of the girl to know the secret of the waves, the +rocks, the skies; the secret of herself and of the man beside her—the +eternal truth, hidden always, yet always half revealed to questioning +man.</p> + +<p>"Religion is very dear to you, Leonard?"</p> + +<p>"Dearer than all but God Himself. Dearer than riches, honors—dearer, +Natalie, than the love I bear for you."</p> + +<p>It was said without the usual intent of lover's vows, and so she +understood it. She made no answer.</p> + +<p>And then they saw a sight which made them forget all else—a +fellow-creature, driving helplessly to destruction beneath their feet.</p> + +<p>It was a lad, ignorant, it would seem, of the management of the frail +vessel in which he was the sole passenger. Even in the hands of an +experienced sailor the little boat, intended for smooth water only, +would have been unsafe; now, unskilfully fitted with a mast and sail, +managed by ignorant hands, and driven toward a coast that had no +shelter, the storm rising each moment, the outlook was desperate for the +voyager.</p> + +<p>Leonard seized a trumpet from the appliances with which the wreck-house +was furnished, and leaning far out of the window, bawled in stentorian +tones, some order, which, whether heard by the boy or not, was unheeded. +Indeed, the desperate situation seemed to have paralyzed him; he clung +to the tiller with the proverbial clutch of the drowning man, utterly +incapable of other action, if indeed other action could prevail.</p> + +<p>Seizing a line, Leonard ran down the stairway to a platform built +against the cliff and not many feet above the water. Natalie followed. +The wind was rising every moment, the tide running higher with each +succeeding wave, and now, as she noticed, even reaching the platform. +Leonard noticed, too. "It is not safe here," he shouted to her, for the +wind howled in their ears and the noise of the surge emulated the noise +of the wind. At the same time he pointed to the stairway, signifying +that she should return, but took no further heed of her. His one thought +was to do the thing that would save the life in peril. She did not know +what he was about to do, but watched him, ready to lend assistance, +though without taking her eyes from the boy in the boat. Thus far it had +escaped the sunken rocks, but it could not long escape the shore. The +wind had blown the sail from its fastenings and it tossed upon the +waves. Only the whirlpool formed by the sunken rocks and the sullenly +receding waters, which had but a moment before been hurled against the +cliff, stayed the wreck of the craft. It needed no experienced eye to +recognize the imminence of the peril of the boy, and the sight of the +solitary being, helpless and exposed to the rude mercy of the waves, was +pitiful. Natalie wrung her hands and prayed in French, and while the +infidel prayed the clergyman acted.</p> + +<p>He had intended to cast the weighted end of the line across the boat and +so give its passenger communication with the shore; even so, the case of +the lad would have been but slightly bettered, since, though fast to the +rope, to avoid being dashed against the rocks would be barely possible; +but Leonard, almost in the act of throwing, saw that his intention was +impracticable. He must wait until the boat had come a little nearer. +Natalie, with alarm that was almost horror, saw him remove his coat and +boots; she would have remonstrated, but she felt that remonstrance was +useless. He stood a waiting hero, his whole being absorbed in the task +before him. That task involved his plunging into the boiling surf, the +very abyss of death. Who can say that some premonition of the future was +not upon him, as, with uplifted head and watching eyes, he stood +statue-like awaiting the supreme moment? Who knows but he was warned +that better for him the whirlpool below than the woman at his side!</p> + +<p>Keenly watching the boat, his hands had still been busy, and from the +line he had fashioned a loop, which now he fitted over his head and +beneath his armpits. The other end of the line he secured to a ring in +the platform, and then, having said nothing to Natalie, but now taking +her hand in his own, and holding it tightly, he waited.</p> + +<p>Not long. As in a flash she saw the boat in fragments, the boy in the +water, and in the same instant Leonard plunged in.</p> + +<p>She seized the line, but let it have play. Leonard had reached the boy +in one stroke, had him in his very grasp, when a huge receding wave tore +them asunder, and both were lost to Natalie.</p> + +<p>She pulled with all her strength. She knew that the boy was drowned and +had no hope for Leonard; her hold of the rope aided in his rescue, as +she was able to prevent his being carried away; but had it not been that +the next wave swept him upon the platform, where he was instantly seized +and dragged far backward by Natalie, who herself barely escaped being +swept off, he must have been either drowned or dashed dead against the +rocks.</p> + +<p>For some minutes she believed him drowned. She had dragged him to a +place of comparative safety and he lay quite still with his head in her +lap. But after awhile he sighed and looked into her eyes, and at last +sat up. "The boy?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Gone," she sobbed.</p> + +<p>After some moments he arose, and feebly enough, assisted her to rise, +and they sat upon the stairway, and after awhile got into the +wreck-house. Here Leonard knew where to find restoratives, as well as a +huge blanket, in which he wrapped himself and Natalie.</p> + +<p>And so they sat side by side, enveloped in one covering, both quite +silent, until he said: "Natalie, I have been praying."</p> + +<p>"Teach me, Leonard."</p> + +<p>"While I live," he answered, and he turned his face and kissed her.</p> + +<p>It was the second time that he had kissed woman, but this was a kiss +that might have lingered on his lips while seeking entrance at the gate +of heaven.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>A DISHONEST VEILING OF A WOMAN'S HEART.</h3> + + +<p>There was joy at Stormpoint. Before the eyes of Mrs. Joe there rose the +vision of a senate spell-bound by the resonant voice of oratory, while +in the same foreshadowing of the time to come Paula beheld Father +Cameril triumphant over the Bishop and strong in reliance upon the +stalwart arm of a soldier newly enrolled in the army of the Church +Militant. Mark had returned, and it was while gazing upon his +countenance that these seers saw their delectable visions and dreamed +their pleasant dreams.</p> + +<p>Upon this, the first evening of his return, the three sat together in +the library of Stormpoint, Mark submitting, with that external grace +which becomes the man placed upon a pedestal by worshipping woman, to +the adoration of his mother and of Paula; the while secretly ungrateful +and chafing because it was not possible to see Natalie before bedtime.</p> + +<p>They had dined cosily together, and the wanderer had been treated as the +prodigal of old, the substitute for fatted calf being the choicest +viands procurable and the rarest vintage of the Stormpoint cellar; yet +he had not enjoyed his dinner, being oppressed by vague forebodings; and +it was irksome to feign a smiling interest where could be no interest +until he had received an answer to his letter to Natalie. Naturally, he +had inquired as to the welfare of all the Claghorns of the vicinity, and +had expressed satisfaction at replies which indicated health and +prosperity among his relatives.</p> + +<p>"I would have asked them all to dinner," said Mrs. Joe, "but I knew that +they would understand that we would be glad to have you to ourselves +to-night. Leonard and Natalie are always considerate."</p> + +<p>"Leonard was always a favorite of yours," observed Mark, who did not +greatly relish this coupling of names, and who could hardly trust +himself to discuss Natalie.</p> + +<p>"A good young man," replied the lady. "He is almost one of us."</p> + +<p>Mark looked quizzically at Paula, who blushed but said nothing. The +blush was a relief to him. "He is a fine fellow," he said, heartily. "I +have always believed in Leonard, though I don't admire his profession or +his creed. But there are good men among theologians, and I'm sure he is +one of them."</p> + +<p>"But, my son," remonstrated Mrs. Joe, "that is not the way to talk of +clergymen."</p> + +<p>"Fie! mother. Would you deny that there are good men among the clergy?"</p> + +<p>"Mark, you know I meant something very different. We only wish Leonard +was in the Church."</p> + +<p>"How can he be out of it, being a Christian?"</p> + +<p>"There is but one Church," observed Paula gravely.</p> + +<p>"The Holy Catholic Church," added Mrs. Joe.</p> + +<p>"Which term you and Paula assume as belonging especially to your +denomination," laughed Mark. "I doubt if even your own divines would be +so arrogant. Mother, this young saint is evidently as intolerant as +ever; and she is making you like herself," and he placed his hand, +kindly enough, on the girl's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Her eyes filled with tears. "Mark," she said, "you may laugh at me, but +religion ought to be sacred."</p> + +<p>"Both you and your religion ought to be, and are," he answered, and +stooped and kissed her forehead; and, though she did not look up, for +she dared not meet his eyes, he was forgiven.</p> + +<p>The elder lady was surprised, but she noted Mark's action with high +approval. Of all the hopes that she had woven round her son, that one +which contemplated his marriage with Paula was supreme. She had trained +the girl for this high destiny, though, true to her instincts, she had +been as politic in this as in other objects of ambition, and neither of +the two whose fortunes she intended to shape were in her confidence. She +rightly divined that nothing would so surely incite to rebellion on the +part of Mark as an open attempt to control him in a matter of this +nature, and was wise enough to know that a disclosure of her hopes to +Paula would place the girl in a false position, whereby she must +inevitably lose that engaging simplicity which, aside from her beauty, +was her greatest charm. The lady had, as we know, been compelled by the +exigencies of policy to impart her cherished plan to more than one +individual; and after she had done so to Natalie, she had been in terror +until opportunity occurred to insure silence.</p> + +<p>"You see, my dear," she had explained to Natalie, "he has not actually +spoken. Paula, like any other girl so situated, knows what is coming, +but of course——"</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Joe, I should not in any case have mentioned the matter."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have been more reticent, but——"</p> + +<p>"I am sure you did what you thought best," at which reply the lady's +color had deepened and the subject was dropped.</p> + +<p>Thus Mark's action rendered his mother happy, for, notwithstanding her +sanguine disposition, she had often suffered misgivings. At times, +during her son's frequent absences, her fears had risen high, and with +each return home she watched him, narrowly scrutinizing his belongings, +even going so far as to rummage among his letters, to discover if there +existed any ground for fear. Her anxieties stilled and their object once +more under the maternal eye, she was willing, since she must be, that he +be deliberate in falling in love. She knew men thoroughly, so she +believed, having known one a little, and was persuaded that the older he +grew, the more certain was Mark to appreciate that highest womanly +attribute so plainly discernible in Paula—pliancy. To man, so Mrs. Joe +believed, that was the supreme excellence in woman. And there had been +in Paula's reception of Mark's caress a certain coyness, becoming in +itself, and which had lent an air of tenderness to the little scene. +Paula had cast her eyes downward in that modest confusion proper to +maidens and inviting to men; doubtless Mark would be glad to repeat a +homage so engagingly received.</p> + +<p>None of these rosy inferences were shared by Paula. During Mark's last +sojourn at Stormpoint, which had been immediately after leaving France +and constant intercourse with the household of Beverley Claghorn, she +had made her own observations and drawn her own conclusions. Whatever +the reason for Mark's action, she knew it portended nothing for her, and +if she had received his fraternal kiss in some confusion, it was because +she dreaded the possibility of sorrow in store for him, a sorrow +connected with a secret confided to her within a few hours.</p> + +<p>"Now that you are home again, Mark," said his mother, "I want your +promise not to run away."</p> + +<p>"You know men, mother; if I make a promise, I shall inevitably want to +break it."</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Better not tempt the weak. Isn't that so, Paula?"</p> + +<p>"Better not be weak."</p> + +<p>"I am serious, Mark," said Mrs. Joe. "You must consider the future; you +should plan a career."</p> + +<p>"I have no intention of running away; certainly not to-night."</p> + +<p>"Nor any night, I hope."</p> + +<p>"You know," he said with some hesitation, "it is possible I may have to +go to California."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! What is Benton paid for? I need you. We ought to select a +city home, and I want your taste, your judgment."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, the city home will be yours. Why haven't you chosen one +long since?"</p> + +<p>"As if I would without consulting you!"</p> + +<p>He smiled, but forebore to remind her that he had not been consulted +with regard to Stormpoint. "Whatever is your taste is mine," he said. +"These gilded cages are for pretty birds like you and Paula; as for +me——"</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense. I am willing to keep your nest warm, but——"</p> + +<p>"If I were to consult my own taste, I would re-erect old Eliphalet's +cabin and be a hermit."</p> + +<p>"Mark, you actually hurt me——"</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, you know I'm joking. About this house, then. New York, +I suppose, is the place for good Californians."</p> + +<p>"It would be pleasanter; but it might be policy to remain in the State."</p> + +<p>He looked at her in wonder. "Why?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It was merely an idea," she replied, blushing, and secretly grieved +that he did not understand. But it was no time to enter into those plans +which were the fruit of many consultations with Mr. Hacket. "It's +getting late; good-night, my dear boy. I know you'll try to please me." +She kissed him, and, with Paula, left the room.</p> + +<p>Left alone, he paced up and down the long room, nervously biting a cigar +which he forgot to light. He knew he would be unable to pass in sleep +the hours that must elapse before he could see Natalie. He was filled +with forebodings; the vague fears which had tempted him to send an +absurd telegraphic message to Natalie had troubled him since he had +first recognized their presence and had grown in strength with each new +day. He was unaware that presentiments and feelings "in the bones," once +supposed to be the laughable delusions of old ladies and nervous younger +ones, were now being regarded with respectful attention as a part of the +things undreamed of in Horatio's philosophy; and, taking his attitude +after the old fashion, he had reasoned with that being which man calls +"himself," and, for the edification of "himself," had shown to that +personage the childishness of indulging in vague and ungrounded fears. +But without success. Philosophers have discovered that which old ladies +always knew, that all explanations of the wherefore of these mental +vagaries are unsatisfactory as long as the vagaries persist; and while +they do, they vex the wise and foolish alike.</p> + +<p>His musings were disturbed by the entrance of Paula, clad in a ravishing +tea-gown, a dainty fragment of humanity. "Mark," she said, "what is the +matter?" for she had been quick to notice and had been startled by the +gloom of his face.</p> + +<p>"Tired, Paula," and he smiled. Somehow Paula always made him smile.</p> + +<p>"If I were tired, I would go to bed," she observed with a faint touch +of sarcasm. "I won't advise bed to you, for I know that you do not +credit me with much sense."</p> + +<p>"Yet it is plain that you have more than I, since you have indicated the +sensible course," he answered pleasantly. "That should be placing you in +high esteem, since we all think well of ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," she said with real sorrow for her petulance, for which she +perhaps could have given no reason; "but I have seen that you were +troubled——"</p> + +<p>"And like a dear little sister you overflow with sympathy. Was there +ever anybody kinder or better than you? But the real fact is that I am +simply tired—yet not sleepy."</p> + +<p>"Well"—she sighed wistfully—"you will feel rested to-morrow. I came +down to give you this from Natalie," handing him a note. "I would have +waited until morning, but I——"</p> + +<p>"Did right, as you always do," he answered, kissing her cheek and saying +good-night, and thus dismissing her, with an evident eagerness to read +the note, not lost upon Paula, and which left her no alternative but to +leave him.</p> + +<p>He opened the envelope and read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Mark—Your letter came this morning, and I have just +learned that you will be home to-night. I cannot express to you +how glad I shall be to see you again. Before we meet in the +presence of others, I hope to see you alone. Your letter, dear +Mark, evidently delayed by being addressed in Mr. Winter's +care, has cost me some tears, both of joy and sorrow. I am +impatient to see you, for it seems to me that to you, before to +any other, except to Paula (who would have known by intuition), +I should disclose the happiness that has come to me in my +engagement to Leonard. It is but two days old, and except to +Paula, is known only to ourselves. Dear Mark, it has not been +easy to write these few lines. I wish I could express in them +how sincerely I honor and love you, and how I wish for your +happiness. I have commenced to pray, and the first time I knelt +to heaven I prayed for you; and so long as I shall continue to +pray—and I think that will be always now—I shall not forget +to beg that you be made happy. I hope you will wander no more, +but be oftener with those that love you and who need you more +than you perhaps know; and as I shall live either in Hampton or +Easthampton, and as I must ever regard you as one of my +earliest and my best friend, I hope we shall see each other +often.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Natalie</span>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mark, your happiness is at Stormpoint. No one is better, +more loving, or more lovable than she."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The letter stunned him. He might, had he known women as well as he +(being young) believed he did—he might have read the truth in every +line. He might have seen that were he to rouse his energies and plead +his cause, he could win it, even yet. He might have heard the +unconscious cry for rescue from an engagement contracted before his +letter had reached her; he might have seen, in the pains she had taken +to tell him that such was the case, his excuse and hers for asserting +his rights against Leonard. These things were plain enough; perhaps the +writer had intended that they should be; not consciously, indeed; but +from that inner being who is part of all of us, the desperate hope of +the girl's heart had not been hidden as she wrote, nor was her pen +entirely uncontrolled by it.</p> + +<p>But the postscript obscured his vision. He laughed contemptuously and +thought, as men will think, "It is thus that woman estimates love. She +is sorry for me, and suggests that the consolation I may need I shall +find in Paula!" He did not recognize that in the postscript was the real +dishonesty of the letter; that it was the salve to the conscience of the +writer, believing that in the letter itself she had said too much, +whereas she had said too little for the perception of a man in the haze +of jealousy. Such gleams of truth as might otherwise have been visible +to Mark could not penetrate that dishonest veiling of the woman's +heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>A MAN ABOUT TO MEET A MAID.</h3> + + +<p>One may approach the White House by way of the High Street of +Easthampton, of which thoroughfare the dwelling in question is a +conspicuous ornament; but for such as prefer a more secluded road, a +grassy lane behind the houses affords direct access to Miss Claghorn's +garden.</p> + +<p>Mark chose the lane. Since, in obedience to Natalie's request, he must +see her, he hoped to find her in the garden, where there would be less +danger of interruption.</p> + +<p>The birds twittered in the trees, joyous in the new day; the dew +glimmered on the grass-blades; the scent of flowers from adjacent +gardens perfumed the fresh air of a perfect summer morning. On such a +morning a man about to meet a maid should have trod the earth lightly. +But Mark lingered as he walked, reluctant to hear his fate pronounced by +lips which he longed to kiss, but could never kiss; lips, therefore, it +were better not to see. Yet, since he had been summoned, he must go on; +and because of the summons there were moments when he still, if faintly, +hoped. Hope dies hard; and, notwithstanding the forebodings which had +vexed him ever since he had written the letter (for which writing he had +since cursed his folly), there had been times when hope had risen high, +and, as he even now assured himself, not without reason. If he had been +self-deceived, it had not been from the complacency of the coxcomb. +Surely she had loved him, or had been willing to love, had that been +permitted her.</p> + +<p>In arguing thus he was not reasoning unfairly. He had been +unintentionally deceived by the philosopher, Beverley Claghorn, who had +permitted the intercourse between his daughter and this young man, +partly from carelessness, more because he approved of a cousinly +friendship of which one of the partakers was able to gratify a noble +sentiment by an addition to the dowry of the other. It had been by +pointing out this ability that he had assuaged the misgivings of the +Marquise; at the same time so solemnly reiterating his loyalty to the +treaty with that lady, that when Mark's disclosure came it had been +impossible for him to receive it otherwise than he had done—by a +regretful rejection. He had been astounded by the avowal, for he had +noted no sighs, no posturing, no eloquent apostrophes or melting glances +from this suitor who approached him with a tale of love, having never +displayed a visible sign of the tender passion. M. Claghorn's +observation of lovers had long been confined to one variety. He forgot +that Anglo-Saxon swains are less prone to languish in public than their +brothers of Gaul. Had Adolphe de Fleury been in Paris there would have +been more frequent flowers, scented billets, rapt gazes, rolling eyes +and eloquential phrases; all offered for the general appreciation as +much as for the lady of his love. In the absence of these familiar +evidences of ardor, the philosopher was, in his own eyes, acquitted of +responsibility for the surprising fact which Mark had imparted to him. +For, how could he suspect a legitimate passion in a youth who had yet to +sow his wild oats, and one with the capacity for acquiring an unlimited +field for that delightful, if futile, and generally expensive, +husbandry? No man of Mark's years could be so wise—or so foolish. That +was, as the philosopher viewed human nature, not in such nature. The +case was different with Adolphe de Fleury, compelled by circumstances to +seize the most attractive dowry that fell in his way; and even that +gallant but impecunious soldier was, doubtless, cultivating a modest +crop as sedulously as circumstances permitted.</p> + +<p>Thus had Mark been the victim of a philosophic mode of thought and had +bowed to that which he had supposed would be the filial, as it had been +the paternal, decision; saying good-bye, sadly, doubtless, but without +betrayal of that which he believed would not be gladly heard, nor could +be honorably disclosed.</p> + +<p>The ocean lay between him and the woman that he loved before he fully +realized how much must be henceforth lacking in his life, and when +repentance was too late he repented that he had taken the philosopher's +word for a fact of which he now sometimes doubted the existence. Many +memories whispered that she, too, had loved. No word of hers had told +him this; but love is not always told in words—and then he would accuse +himself of the folly of permitting vain longings to control his +judgment. Nevertheless, when, while still at Stormpoint, he had heard of +the sudden death of Beverley Claghorn, he had resolved to do that which +before he had omitted, to appeal to Natalie herself, when, most +inopportunely, there came a letter from the Marquise to Mrs. Joe; a +letter which informed the relatives of the deceased that the death of +the father would hasten, rather than retard, the marriage of the +daughter, who had already taken up her residence with the writer of the +epistle, in accordance with the wish of her father. Not long after the +receipt of that letter Mark had started for Russia, leaving France +unvisited.</p> + +<p>He opened the gate which led from the lane into the garden, and +found—Tabitha.</p> + +<p>Who raised her hands in astonishment, then stretched them forth in +welcome: "And so you're back! For how long this time? More of a Claghorn +than ever—as grim as one of the Eliphalets."</p> + +<p>"No need to ask how you are," said Mark, his grimness softened by her +heartiness. "You get younger every year. How are my aunt and——"</p> + +<p>"And Natalie? Blooming—that's the word. You'll find things different at +the White House. We haven't had a good spat in months. Soor le ponty +Avinyon, on y donks, on y donks——"</p> + +<p>"<i>On y danse</i>," repeated Mark, laughing at Tabitha's French in spite of +himself.</p> + +<p>"Yes; even my old legs. Your aunt's are too stiff. But we young things, +that's Natalie and I, we cut our capers," and in the exuberance of her +spirits Miss Cone essayed a caper for Mark's benefit.</p> + +<p>"Such grace, Tabby——"</p> + +<p>"Is worth coming from Russia to see. I'm practising; there's to be great +doings here before long. What would you say to a wedding?"</p> + +<p>"Let me salute the bride?" he said, with an attempt at gaiety which, to +himself, seemed rather sickly, and suiting his action to the word.</p> + +<p>"Well!" ejaculated Miss Cone, adjusting her cap, "many a man's had his +ears boxed for that. However, I suppose it's in the air around here—but +you're mistaken. I'm not the bride."</p> + +<p>"Surely, not Aunt Achsah?"</p> + +<p>"As if you couldn't guess! But don't say I told you. The fact is I'm so +full of it I blabbed without thinking."</p> + +<p>"Then it's a secret?"</p> + +<p>"It won't be after to-day. Leonard told us last night. I suppose your +aunt'll tell your ma to-day."</p> + +<p>Mark promised to say nothing and went toward the house. Miss Claghorn +welcomed him cordially, but made no reference to the subject of +Tabitha's disclosures, though traces of her agreeable agitation were +visible. "There's Natalie, now!" she exclaimed after some minutes had +been spent in conversation sufficiently dreary to one of the two.</p> + +<p>The thundering of a horse's hoofs told of a wild gallop. The old lady +rushed from the house, followed by Mark, dismayed by her action and the +alarm expressed in her countenance. He reached the gate in time to +assist Natalie to dismount.</p> + +<p>"My dear child!" exclaimed the elder lady reproachfully.</p> + +<p>She was grasping Mark's hands in welcome. Her face was flushed; her dark +hair, disturbed by the pace at which she had ridden, hung low upon her +forehead; he had never seen her so beautiful—nor so happy. His face was +pale, his hands cold in hers.</p> + +<p>"Dear Aunt," she said, "I felt as though I must gallop; I didn't mean to +in the High Street; I couldn't hold him."</p> + +<p>"He was homeward bound," said Mark, turning to look at the horse, now +being led away by Miss Achsah's "man." "He's a handsome beast."</p> + +<p>"I have much to ask you about the Marquise," said Natalie to Mark, as +they went into the house, whereupon Miss Claghorn left them.</p> + +<p>The short-lived bloom of her face was gone; she was deadly pale. She +stretched her ungloved hands toward him; it might have been a gesture +of appeal. He dared not take them in his own; his longing to clasp her +to his heart was too great to risk the contact. She dropped her arms.</p> + +<p>"You wished to see me—to ask me——" He paused; his voice sounded stern +in his ears, but he had no power over it.</p> + +<p>"To—to say something. Give me a moment."</p> + +<p>As she turned toward the window he caught a glimpse of the sheen of +tears. A mighty impulse raised his arms as though to clasp her; then +they fell.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What fates impose, that man must need abide."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She turned toward him. "I thought there was much to say. There +is—nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing for you; for me, something. It is to wish you all happiness, to +assure you of my constant—friendship."</p> + +<p>"And that is needless. We shall always be friends, warm friends, Mark. +Let it be so. And—there is something more. I should not have written as +I did of Paula; I had no right. But—since I am your friend, and you are +mine——"</p> + +<p>"We shall be. Even so, give me a little time."</p> + +<p>His words were accompanied by a sardonic smile. The words and the smile +silenced her. There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"Has the Marquise forgiven me?" she asked at length.</p> + +<p>"She will in time. By the way, I saw Adolphe. I hope he did not +persecute——"</p> + +<p>"No, no. He left that to his mama," she answered, laughing. "To Adolphe, +as a cousin, I had no objection; but——"</p> + +<p>"You have chosen more wisely," he said gravely. "I wish you happiness, +Natalie." He held out his hand; she took it, her own trembling. "God +bless you, Cousin." His lips brushed her cold cheek, then he was gone.</p> + +<p>She watched him from the window; her face was very white, her hands +tightly clenched. So she stood until he had passed from view, then she +went upstairs. In the hall she passed Tabitha, who exclaimed: "You +scared us all—yourself, too. You look like a ghost."</p> + +<p>"Scared?" questioned Natalie.</p> + +<p>"Riding like that."</p> + +<p>"Like that! I wished the horse had wings."</p> + +<p>"You'll have 'em if you don't take care, then——"</p> + +<p>"Then I'll fly away." The intensity of her utterance made Tabitha stare. +Natalie laughed aloud, and left her still staring.</p> + +<p>Alone in her room, she paced slowly back and forth, struggling with her +pride, crushing a forbidden and rejected love. So she regarded it. With +a wrung heart, Mark had respected her decision, and in the depths of her +soul she blamed him, scorning the puny passion so easily beaten. "Go to +Paula," she had written, while "Come to me," her heart had cried so +loudly that, except he were deaf, he might have heard.</p> + +<p>When she had written her letter to Mark she had accomplished a bitter +task only after a long and desperate struggle. She loved Leonard; she +had said this to herself over and over again, and it was true; and to +him she had given her troth freely, fully believing that for him there +would be happiness and for her content. But the lowest depths of her +soul had been stirred by the letter from Mark. There were chambers there +that Leonard had not entered, could never enter, and into which she +herself dared not look.</p> + +<p>Self-sacrifice is to women alluring. That which she had made had been +made, at least she so believed, with honest intention, yet, since now it +was irrevocable, it was too hideous to contemplate. She would call him +back, and on her knees——</p> + +<p>Shameful thought! She was betrothed to a man she loved. Had she not +admitted it? Not to him only, but shyly this very morning to the fond +old woman to whom she owed so much, whose last days by that very +admission were brightened by a glorious sunshine never before known in a +long and gloomy life. Could she now, even if in her own eyes she could +fall so low—could she fall so low in the eyes of these women by whom +she was surrounded? In her aunt's eyes and Tabitha's? In Paula's, to +whom, in loving loyalty, she had herself confided the secret? In those +of Mrs. Joe, who had so carefully warned her from this preserve? No—to +that depth she could not descend, not even to bask in the cold and +passionless love of Mark.</p> + +<p>The engagement was received with universal favor. It could hardly be +otherwise, since all peculiarly interested were of that sex which dearly +loves to contemplate a captive man, the only male (Leonard, of course, +excepted) being Mark, whose attitude, being unsuspected, was ignored. +And the bridegroom was the hero of all these women: the heir of Miss +Claghorn; the one of the family to whom Tabitha was willing to ascribe +all the virtues; regarded with affectionate esteem by Mrs. Joe, and, as +to all except his denominational qualities, worshipped by Paula. As to +the question of yoking believer and unbeliever, it had certainly +occurred to all the devotees of the young theologian, but, aside from +the certainty that truth must find its triumph in the union, the more +pressing question of clothes for the approaching wedding left but little +room in pious but feminine minds for other considerations. Events had so +fallen in with Leonard's wishes that an early marriage was deemed +advisable in Natalie's interest. Mr. Ellis Winter had encountered +difficulty with regard to certain property in France belonging to her, +and her presence in Paris was essential; and it was no less desirable +that while there she be under the protection of a husband. For, aside +from other considerations, marriage was the easiest solution of the +complications which had arisen out of the guardianship of the Marquise, +which guardianship would legally terminate with Natalie's marriage. And +these things opened the way for Mark's return to Stormpoint.</p> + +<p>"Urgent business" in San Francisco had precluded his attendance at the +wedding. He wrote Leonard a cordial letter, and he sent to Natalie a +ruby set in small diamonds, which, Tabitha Cone confidentially imparted +to Miss Claghorn, was "mean for a billionaire," and which, even in the +eyes of the latter lady, with whom the donor was a favorite, looked +paltry. Both would have been surprised and even indignant at the man's +folly, if they had known that he had bid against a crowned head to get +the gem, employing a special agent, furnished with <i>carte blanche</i> for +the purpose. Natalie knew better than they, but it was not of its purity +or value that she thought, as she looked at the jewel long and +steadfastly, until a mist of tears suddenly obscured her vision and +struck terror to her soul.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>MAN WALKETH IN A VAIN SHADOW.</h3> + + +<p>Soon after the departure for France of the newly married pair Mark +returned from San Francisco. During his absence Mrs. Joe had not failed +to call Mr. Hacket in consultation, and the adviser had reiterated the +old counsel that the first step in a political career was "to get around +and get acquainted." In order to induce her son to continue this +preliminary course it became necessary to disclose her "policy."</p> + +<p>Mark, though somewhat languid in the matter, displayed no violent +reluctance to becoming a statesman. "As to the Presidency," he observed, +laughing at his mother's lofty ambition, frankly disclosed, "that is the +heaven of the politician, to be attained only by the elect."</p> + +<p>"Nothing's impossible, Mark."</p> + +<p>"There's a constitutional provision which will prevent my going in for +it for some years. Meanwhile, we can investigate and learn how +Presidents start. One ended as Justice of the Peace; I might try that as +a beginning."</p> + +<p>"A Justice of the Peace!"</p> + +<p>"Why so scornful? It's aiming high. The usual course is to begin by +carrying a banner and shouting."</p> + +<p>"Mark, I've set my heart on this."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, blessed is the man or woman that has the wisdom to +avoid that error."</p> + +<p>"My son," said the lady reproachfully, "you seem without interest in +anything."</p> + +<p>"I am older, hence less enthusiastic, than you," he answered, smiling, +and really believing, perhaps rightly, that, notwithstanding their +relation, he felt older than she; "but advise me what to do, and I will +do it. I am not unwilling to be a statesman, only——"</p> + +<p>"I have told you——"</p> + +<p>"To get about and get acquainted. Good! I'll start at once and collar +the first voter I meet and demand his friendship." So, laughing, he left +her, and within an hour Mrs. Joe saw him ride forth from the gates of +Stormpoint.</p> + +<p>During his long ride he admitted the reasonableness of his mother's +ambition. Aside from the obstacle of great wealth, he was as eligible as +another for usefulness and such laurels as come to those who honorably +pursue a political career. He might smile at his mother's lofty dreams, +yet they were not impossible of attainment; whereas, his own, in so far +as they offered any allurement, were both unworthy and impossible. "A +man should do something better than bewail his fate," he muttered; +"since I cannot love elsewhere I'll be a lover of my country."</p> + +<p>Greatly to Mrs. Joe's satisfaction, he thenceforward diligently pursued +the preliminary requisite of getting around, in so far as that could be +accomplished by long, solitary rides throughout the region. He seldom +appeared at dinner without a gratifying account of the acquisition of a +new rustic acquaintance, while meantime, the lady of Stormpoint saw to +it that he did not remain unknown to such Hampton magnates as she could +induce to grace her dinner table, displaying, in the matter of +hospitality, a catholicity which surprised Paula and amused Mark, who, +however, was quite willing to be amused.</p> + +<p>Philosophers who have made the passion of love a subject of +investigation (and most philosophers have given some attention to this +branch of learning) have noticed that the violent death of an old love +is often quickly followed by the birth of a new one. A jilted man or +woman is Cupid's easiest prey.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe may, or may not, have been aware of the truth of the above +axiom, or its fitness in the case before her; but, having been fairly +successful in interesting Mark in one object of her "policy," she +resolved at this time to venture further and urge upon his attention the +claims of Paula to his love; and, to her great delight, she found him +not inattentive to the suggestion. He told his mother, truly enough, +that he had a sincere affection for Paula, and admitted that she was, as +far as was compatible with humanity, faultless; for it could hardly be a +fault in Paula that he could feel no throb in his pulse, or glow in his +bosom, when he recalled her to memory.</p> + +<p>"You forget," he said, "that while I might find it easy to love her" +(which he did not believe), "she might not find it easy to love me."</p> + +<p>"You need have no fear." She was about to add that Paula would love +anybody that loved her, but remembered in time that this might not be +regarded as a recommendation. "She is the best creature I ever +knew—almost perfect."</p> + +<p>"I believe she is," he assented with a sigh, which was a tribute to +Paula's perfection. "I fear she is too good for me."</p> + +<p>"That's a strange objection."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure," he replied, as he lit a cigar, preparatory to +leaving the room. But when he was gone, Mrs. Joe felt that he would +consider the matter, and was content.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously to herself, and, perhaps, without the knowledge of those +by whom she was surrounded, Paula was somewhat harshly treated by +nature; and that, notwithstanding her beauty. She was the embodiment of +purity, of affection, of all the sweeter virtues, hence, regarded as +wanting in those weaknesses which are essential to the symmetry of +strength; one who lacks the everyday vices of temper, of selfishness, of +jealousy, is, in some degree, abhorrent to our sense of the fitness of +things. It is not that we envy the possessor of all the virtues—on the +contrary, total absence of vice awakens something akin to contempt—but +we are impatient of a non-combative disposition. The ideal Christian, +offering the unsmitten cheek, presents a spectacle which, on Sundays, we +characterize as sublime; the actual Christian, making such a tender, is, +on any day, an object of scorn. Even of Paula, they who knew her would +have admitted that it was possible to rouse her to resentment, possibly +to a deed of vengeance, just as the worm may be made to turn; but, then, +humanity refuses to admire worms in any attitude.</p> + +<p>As Mark prosecuted the study of Paula, it gradually dawned upon him +that it was interesting. From wondering whether there could be "much in +her," he attained the conviction that, whether much or little, what +there was was beyond his ken. "Paula," he asked one day, "are you as +good as you look?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how good I look, Mark."</p> + +<p>"Saintlike."</p> + +<p>"Then I am not as good as I look; only I don't think I look as you say."</p> + +<p>"Paula, you are a mystery. That's a great thing to be, is it not?" +(Somehow, he could not help talking to Paula as if she were a child.) +"Explain the mystery."</p> + +<p>"Everybody is a mystery. Explain the mystery."</p> + +<p>"Here is an unexpected depth," he exclaimed, with some surprise. "You +have dared to raise a great question. Let us seek the solution at +Grandfather Eliphalet's tomb."</p> + +<p>The tomb, renovated and neatly railed by that which Miss Claghorn +secretly regarded as the sacrilegious hand of Mrs. Joe, was near the +extremity of the Point. When the weary Eliphalet had been laid there to +rest it had been further inland, but the ever-pounding ocean was +gradually having its way, day by day encroaching upon the domain of the +seemingly indestructible rocks.</p> + +<p>"The time will come," said Mark, as the two leaned upon the railing, +"when the sea will claim old Eliphalet's bones."</p> + +<p>"And the time will come when the sea will give up its dead," said Paula.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he answered gloomily; "and to what end? You will answer, in +order that the dead may be judged. I still ask, to what end?"</p> + +<p>"That is the mystery, Mark."</p> + +<p>"Not to be answered at Eliphalet's tomb, or elsewhere. Paula, did you +ever hear of Deacon Bedott?"</p> + +<p>"You know, Mark, there are so many deacons in Hampton——"</p> + +<p>"This one lived in Slabtown, if I remember right. He was a character of +fiction, neither very wise nor very entertaining; yet when Deacon Bedott +lifted up his voice and spake, he formulated one of the Great Truths +that man can know."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" she asked after a pause.</p> + +<p>"We are all poor critters," was the answer, with a grim laugh. "Paula, I +believe it is the only truth that really does come home to a man."</p> + +<p>"It is from the Bible," she said simply.</p> + +<p>He looked up. "Do you mean to assert that the Deacon was merely quoting? +Are you going to destroy my faith in a pet philosopher; he who said all +that Plato said, or Socrates, or Seneca—or anybody?"</p> + +<p>"For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain," she +answered in a low tone.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment; at length Mark said: "It seems that the +Deacon was, after all, a plagiarist."</p> + +<p>"I think that perhaps philosophers have discovered few truths concerning +man that they might not have found in the Bible, and with less labor."</p> + +<p>"Paula, do you believe the Bible?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mark! It is God's word."</p> + +<p>"And these," he said, pointing to the trees, the crags, the sea; "are +these God's word?"</p> + +<p>"They are His creation; in that sense His word."</p> + +<p>"And you and I, and these bones, crumbling a few feet below—these are +all His creation, and so His word—and we know not what they say."</p> + +<p>She looked at him surprised. She had often sorrowed that these things +did not engage his attention; she was surprised to note his earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Paula," he said, "do you know what you were made for?"</p> + +<p>"Made for?"</p> + +<p>"Leonard would tell you, 'to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever,'" he +said, "but he would also inform you that the chance of the purpose of +your creation coming to pass is slim."</p> + +<p>"You know I do not subscribe to Leonard's creed," she replied a little +severely.</p> + +<p>"The thirty-nine articles, though less explicit, imply that which +Leonard's creed has the boldness to state. Yes, Paula, that is the great +and glorious Hope offered by the Church—damnation for the great +majority."</p> + +<p>"Mark, I do not think I ought to discuss these questions."</p> + +<p>"You mean with a scoffer," he said a little bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not a scoffer. I cannot judge."</p> + +<p>"And you decline to find out. Suppose I tell you in all honesty that I +want to know the reasons for the faith that is in you. That I want to +know them, so that I may try honestly to adopt them, if I find it +possible—I don't say easy, Paula, I say possible. Suppose I assure you +of this, as I do, will you aid me to be what you think I ought to be?"</p> + +<p>"Mark," she answered, "I am not competent. Such a one as you should not +come to such as I."</p> + +<p>"Surely you have a reason for your belief! Is it not possible to put it +into words?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mark!" She turned and looked upon him; her eyes were brimming with +tears; she placed her hand upon his arm. "I can help you; I will help +you. I can direct you to one who can solve your doubts, who can make the +truth so plain that you must see——"</p> + +<p>"And this One is?' he asked reverently.</p> + +<p>"Father Cameril."</p> + +<p>He burst into a loud laugh which shocked and grieved her. She left him +and went toward the house; he remained gazing at the tomb.</p> + +<p>And there, if he had really contemplated seeking Paula's love, he buried +the intention with Old Eliphalet. "If your eternal welfare is to your +wife a matter to be handed over to her priest, your temporal felicity +will hardly be of moment to her," he thought, as he looked at the smoke +of his cigar hanging blue in the summer air.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>A PARSON TREADS THE PRIMROSE PATH IN PARIS.</h3> + + +<p>"Bel homme!" exclaimed the Marquise de Fleury admiringly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Belle femme!</i>" echoed the hussar sadly.</p> + +<p>"Be everything that is charming, Adolphe, I conjure you. So much depends +upon Natalie's disposition."</p> + +<p>From which brief conversation, which took place as the speakers left the +hotel where the Leonard Claghorns were established, it may be correctly +inferred that a friendly reception had been accorded the newly married +pair by the French relatives of the bride. The noble lady, doubtless, +felt all the affection for her former ward that she had, during the +visit, so eloquently expressed, so that inclination prescribed the same +course that policy would have indicated. The Marquise was still the +custodian of property belonging to Natalie, and settlement of accounts +could be much better adjusted in a spirit of indulgent friendship than +in the cold and calculating spirit of business; and though Natalie and +her dowry were gone forever, in that distant land whence she had +returned with a husband, there were golden maids languishing for +Marquises. "These Yankees," she observed to her son, "they sell their +souls for money—the men; the women sell their bodies, and such soul as +goes with them, for titles. Are you not a Marquis, of the <i>ancien +regime</i>? It behooves us, my child, to be gracious to this wedded priest; +he may know of a <i>partie</i>."</p> + +<p>"I am so, mama. <i>Du reste</i>, he is <i>beau garçon</i>, and seems amiable and +amusing."</p> + +<p>"Cultivate him, my infant; a voyage to America may be your destiny. It +is a rich family—fabulous. There may be maids in plenty among these +Claghorns."</p> + +<p>The two young men, except for the pacific disposition of their +womankind, might have been inclined to regard one another askance. For, +in the person of the possessor of Natalie and her dowry the brave hussar +saw one who however innocently, was still the ravisher of his rights; +while in this being, in all the glory of fur and feather, sabretache and +jangling sword, boots and buttons, braid and golden stripes, with a +pervading tone of red and blue, Leonard beheld a startling and, at +first, unpleasing creation. But the lieutenant, admonished by his mama, +and sensible of the interests at stake, and genial by nature, thawed +almost immediately, and the boulevardier and the theologian were +friends.</p> + +<p>To the young Frenchman a Protestant theologian was a philosopher, rather +than a priest under vows, hence a person of liberal views and probably +of lax conduct. As toward a newly married man, and warned incessantly by +the Marquise, he recognized that etiquette required that from him no +invitation to dissipation should emanate, but that his attitude ought to +be that of willingness to pilot the stranger whithersoever he might wish +to go; occasionally pointing out that paths of pleasantness were open to +such as might choose to wander in them. And though Leonard displayed no +undue disposition to such wanderings, an intimacy resulted which was not +in fact, though seemingly, incongruous.</p> + +<p>"What is he like, this beautiful heretic?" asked the Marquise.</p> + +<p>"Like a Greek god, as you see, mama."</p> + +<p>"But otherwise; he is a priest, you know?"</p> + +<p>"And, like other priests, with an eye for a pretty woman."</p> + +<p>"But discreet, Adolphe? I hope he is discreet."</p> + +<p>"As St. Anthony! Natalie may be easy."</p> + +<p>"Be you equally discreet, my child. She has been most generous; and, +remember, Adolphe——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mama. What am I to remember?"</p> + +<p>"That when a woman marries a man for his beauty, it is not love; it is +infatuation. Do not permit this Leonarr to go astray; he has +proclivities."</p> + +<p>The little hussar laughed. "You are sharp-eyed, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Had you watched him before the painting of Eve—but enough. Do nothing +to cause disquiet to Natalie."</p> + +<p>The little man, thus admonished, promised to carefully observe her +wishes; the more readily as he was aware how important the friendship of +Natalie was to his mama (in view of the pending adjustment of accounts). +The more he studied Leonard, the more amusing he found him. To "do" +Paris (not, indeed, to the extent of the capacity of that capital) in +company with a priest, was, in itself, a piquant experience. "It is like +demonstrating to your director how easy it is to sin," he declared; "and +<i>ce bon Leonarr</i>, he imposes no penance. <i>Tiens!</i> These others, these +Protestants, they have it easy."</p> + +<p>"He does not essay to pervert," observed the Marquise in some alarm.</p> + +<p>"Be not uneasy. Would I be of a religion whose priests marry? Think of +the wife of my confessor knowing all my peccadillos!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me. My anxiety was but momentary——"</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile, let me help this <i>pauvre garçon</i>, whose eyes have, since +infancy, been bandaged, to see a little bit of the world. It is +delightful to note his delight."</p> + +<p>"But with discretion, Adolphe."</p> + +<p>"Do I not assure you he is an anchorite. You have yourself observed that +he drinks no wine."</p> + +<p>"A penance, doubtless. Père Martin is also abstemious."</p> + +<p>"As to <i>ordinaire</i>. In the presence of a flask of Leoville, I have noted +a layman's thirst in <i>ce bon père</i>."</p> + +<p>"Do not ridicule Père Martin, my infant. <i>Du reste</i>, it is not wine that +I fear in the case of this beautiful Leonarr. Continue to be his +guardian angel, my son."</p> + +<p>Under this guardianship Leonard looked at Paris, enjoying his free +sojourn in a great and brilliant city with hearty, but, on the whole, +innocent fervor. The sunny skies, the genial good-humor, the eating and +drinking, the frequent music, the lights, the dapper men, the +bright-eyed women, the universal alertness—these impart a pleasant +tingle to Puritan blood; and, if the novice to these delights be young, +rosy, handsome, of exuberant health, and inclined to the pleasures +befitting such conditions, he finds Paris grateful to the taste. In +this congenial atmosphere Leonard basked in guileless rapture. A drive +in the Bois with Natalie and the Marquise, brilliant equipages dashing +by, brilliant eyes flashing as they passed, was a rare delight; a stroll +on the Boulevard was even more enjoyable, for here were more flashing +eyes and smiling faces, less fleeting, and often coquettishly inviting +an answering glance. Clothed in the results of the meditations of de +Fleury's tailor, it became Leonard's frequent habit to haunt the +Boulevards, indulging in a strut that would have astonished Hampton; and +often was he inclined to envy the Marquis that lot which had made his +abiding place among these joys. It would have been fine to be a soldier, +fine to fight and win glory; to wear boots and spurs and a clanking +sword, and to trail the same along the pavement as one to the manner +born!</p> + +<p>Of course, that was a day-dream, which he laughed at as easily as an +older man might have done, though less scornfully. There was no great +harm in day-dreams, however foolish. This whole existence had the +character of a pleasant dream. Had he not felt it so, he often mentally +averred, he would have accepted it more gravely.</p> + +<p>"But it will soon be over," he said to Natalie. "It is my first holiday +since I was a boy."</p> + +<p>"Enjoy it all you can. I am glad that Adolphe has been able to make your +stay pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Really, a very amiable little fellow. French, you know, and rather lax +in his views, I fear; but——"</p> + +<p>"His views will not harm you," interrupted Natalie, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," he replied, a little stiffly. "It would be strange if I +could not take care of myself. Meanwhile, M. de Fleury is really of +great advantage to me in one respect."</p> + +<p>"And that is?"</p> + +<p>"I am improving wonderfully in French. That's a good thing, Natalie, a +very good thing." He was quite solemn on this point.</p> + +<p>"An excellent thing," she replied, somewhat surprised at the gravity +with which he treated a matter of no great importance. "I wish, Leonard, +that my affairs were concluded. I am sure you are being kept here +against your wish."</p> + +<p>"Whatever my wish, your affairs ought to come first. Let us be content +that, if they do drag, I can employ the time in self-improvement."</p> + +<p>Thus, in the praiseworthy pursuit of improvement Leonard spent much of +his time. He was by no means neglectful of his wife, whose attendance, +with the Marquise, was much in demand in official bureaus, and who +encouraged his intimacy with the lieutenant, whom she no longer found +unendurable, and whose amiable and forgiving conduct had won her heart. +"They are not rich, you know," she said. "Entertain the little man all +you can; the Marquise was very kind to me." An injunction which afforded +another reason why it was incumbent on Leonard to procure the Marquis +the distractions that he loved, in so far as purse and principle +permitted, and these were found elastic.</p> + +<p>Because, as he was forced to admit when arguing with the Marquis, a +reasonable elasticity is not only proper, but essential to culture.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon bon</i>," observed the lieutenant, "the view you advance is narrow. +The ballet, as a favorite spectacle of the people, should be studied by +every student of morals. You, as a preacher——"</p> + +<p>Leonard laughed. "I'm not a preacher; I'm an instructor in a college of +divinity."</p> + +<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> The greater reason. How shall one teach the good, knowing +not the evil? <i>Du reste</i>, are they evil, <i>ces belles jambes</i> of Coralie? +They are fine creations, of pure nature; there is no padding."</p> + +<p>"You will be my guest, if we go?"</p> + +<p>"Since you insist; also to a <i>petit souper, a parti carré</i>, with Aimée +and Louise. Coralie! <i>Sapristi</i>, no! Her maw is insatiable; the little +ones are easily pleased."</p> + +<p>And so Leonard studied unpadded nature, even going alone a second, and +perhaps a third time. As to the <i>petit souper</i>, it had been decorous; +and beyond the fact that Mesdemoiselles Aimée and Louise were agreeable +ladies with excellent appetites, his knowledge of these damsels did not +extend.</p> + +<p>Of course, there were pursuits of a different character to engage his +attention, and those which occurred under the guidance of the lieutenant +were exceptional. There were the usual sights to be seen; galleries, +monuments, churches, all to be wondered at, criticised and admired. +Leonard approved generally, though, as to the churches, their tawdry +interiors and the character of their embellishments offended his taste, +as well as his religious sentiments. If, during these distractions, he +was neglectful of the religious instruction which he knew his wife +needed, circumstances were, to some extent, at fault. He could hardly +expound doctrinal truths in a picture gallery, much less in a temple of +Roman error. And, though not without qualms, he admitted to himself that +he had little desire to discuss religion. There was, perhaps, no heinous +sin in looking at the leg-gyrations of Mademoiselle Coralie, nor was +Leonard the first wandering clergyman to embrace an offered opportunity +to study ethics from the standpoint of that rigid moralist, the Marquis +de Fleury; nevertheless, such studies had their effect in cooling +religious fervor, and fervor is essential to him who would expound +truth, with a view to compel conviction.</p> + +<p>Finally, as bearing on this question of the doctrinal instruction of his +wife, he doubted whether it was worth while. Knowledge of doctrine was +no adornment in women; there was Paula, whose pretensions in this regard +constituted almost her only defect. Since Natalie was probably saved, +why trouble himself and her with the exposition of mysteries which she +would be unable to comprehend, and concerning which the injunction was +laid that they be "handled with especial care." If she had heard the +call it would be effectual; if she had not been born to salvation, all +the doctrine which had been taught since the days of the fathers would +not—and here his self-communing stopped. Damnation, though inevitable, +is not an alluring subject of contemplation when it affects one's +family.</p> + +<p>The complications attendant on Natalie's affairs prolonged the stay in +Paris far beyond the period originally contemplated; but French method +on one side of the Atlantic, and Mr. Winter on the other, were finally +satisfied, after much passing to and fro of documents. Everybody +interested was weary, and consular clerks had come to loathe the names +of Natalie, Eugenie, Louise, Susan Beverley de Fleury Claghorn-Claghorn, +<i>née</i> de Fleury-Claghorn. As Leonard said, to be enabled to give the +Marquise a receipt in full was a harder job than to negotiate a treaty. +But it was done at last; Natalie had been resolute and Mr. Winter had +protested in vain; the Marquise had her discharge and, relieved of many +terrors, was duly grateful. "She has been charming, truly considerate," +she observed to her son. "Alas, Adolphe; it was a great loss."</p> + +<p>"There are others," replied the Marquis philosophically.</p> + +<p>"Heaven send it so. You must no longer delay speaking seriously to this +good Leonarr, who might have influenced his wife to be the ogress +desired by the abominable Winter. Urge him to look out for a <i>partie</i> as +soon as he arrives in America. I will speak to Natalie. I have heard her +mention two demoiselles, Achsah and Tabitha."</p> + +<p>"<i>Ciel!</i> The appellations."</p> + +<p>"But if the bearers are rich?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Tiens!</i> mama. Madame Zho and <i>la belle</i> Paula are in London. I might +try there; it is not so far."</p> + +<p>"But <i>ce gros</i> Marc is with them. Paula is for him, as you know."</p> + +<p>"He does not hurry himself, and truly I believe the little one would not +be averse to me."</p> + +<p>"Better depend upon Monsieur Leonarr."</p> + +<p>And as a result of his mama's advice the lieutenant did, on that +afternoon, broach the matter to Leonard, who, at first mystified, ended +by roaring with laughter when he grasped the fact that the head of the +House of de Fleury was making a provisional proposal for the hand and +fortune of either Mademoiselle Tabitha, or Mademoiselle Achsah, as +Leonard might advise.</p> + +<p>"<i>Diable!</i>" exclaimed the gallant youth, when Leonard had explained the +cause of his hilarity, "over seventy and rich! What a country where such +opportunities are neglected! Decidedly I must make the voyage."</p> + +<p>Leonard made no reply; the suggested picture of the noble Marquis as +his guest in Hampton was not precisely alluring.</p> + +<p>"And so there is not a single demoiselle among the Claghorns that +desires a title?"</p> + +<p>"Not one."</p> + +<p>"Alas!" sighed the Marquis. "I was too magnanimous. You know <i>la belle</i> +Paula, of course. Listen, <i>mon ami</i>, but let your lips be sealed. <i>Elle +etait folle de moi!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Paula! Crazy for you! You flatter——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Parole d'honneur.</i> It was in her eyes, in the plaintive cadence of her +tones——"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"I know—<i>ce polisson de Marc, toujours Marc</i>. Ah, the luck of this +Marc! He has a mine of gold; he will have the charming Paula. Only you, +<i>mon bon</i>, have beaten him. After all, it is for Marc and me to mingle +our tears."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" asked Leonard sharply. "Why are you and Mark +to mingle your tears?"</p> + +<p>"For the reason, <i>mon cher</i>, that we love to weep," replied the hussar, +with an odd glance at Leonard. "Adieu, I have an appointment," and he +turned abruptly down a side street, leaving Leonard astonished at his +quick retreat.</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, after a moment. "It's absurd!" Then he pursued +his way homeward.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>TO HIM I WILL BE HENCEFORTH TRUE IN ALL THINGS.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Joe and her train were in London, whither Mark had been summoned on +business; and ever since Madame de Fleury had become aware of the fact +she had urged the party to visit Paris. The Marquise, notwithstanding +her sex, was not devoid of curiosity, and, aside from other advantages +which might accrue to her from the presence of the lady of Stormpoint, +she was anxious that a puzzle which had not a little mystified her be +elucidated. When Mark had visited her after his chance meeting with +Adolphe in the cafe, she had divined his feeling with regard to Natalie, +and had at once jumped to the conclusion that it explained the flight of +her ward. She recalled the intimacy which had existed between the +cousins during the lifetime of the philosopher, an intimacy which she +had gravely disapproved, and concerning which she had more than once +remonstrated. She remembered, too, with vexation and a sense of injury, +that the philosopher had soothed her solicitude for the interests of her +son, by pleading the cousinly customs of Mark's country, as well as by +pointing out the benefit which might accrue to her son by an increased +dowry for his own daughter. Now all these hopes and rosy possibilities +were extinguished; Natalie had appeared on the scene with a husband who +was not Mark, and Mark and Paula were still unwed. These were all +puzzling facts out of which there might be gathered some advantage for +Adolphe. She had concealed from him the hopes which sometimes rose +within her in contemplating the present state of affairs; but she was +very anxious to know what that state portended. She had tried in vain to +extract information from Natalie, and as to Leonard, the matter required +delicate handling. Such inquiries as she had addressed to him had been +of necessity vague, and from his answers she had derived no +satisfaction. He had sometimes idly wondered what the lady was after, +but until the allusion by the Marquis to a mutual mingling of tears by +Mark and himself, Leonard had barely given the matter a thought. He +understood now what the Marquis had implied, and saw the drift of the +maternal questioning. He was annoyed, but only for a moment; he +dismissed the subject as being of equal importance with the hussar's +idea of Paula's infatuation for himself, concerning which he had no +belief whatever.</p> + +<p>After the lieutenant had left him, Leonard pursued his way homeward, +vaguely oppressed by a sense of gloom which he attributed to the +weather, which had become lowering. He was near the Church of St. Roch +when a shower drove him inside its portals for shelter.</p> + +<p>A few sightseers were wandering about the edifice; an occasional +penitent occupied a chapel with lips close to the grating, on the other +side of which was the ear of the absolver; in the body of the church a +number knelt in prayer.</p> + +<p>He looked at these things with curiosity, not unmingled with scorn. His +attention was attracted by a plainly dressed woman standing in a side +aisle; to his surprise, he recognized his wife.</p> + +<p>She did not see him as he softly approached her. A sunbeam breaking +through the clouds outside shone through a window and lit up her face, +displaying to him a new expression, a look of yearning and of love which +beautified it; a look he had never seen before; he recognized the fact +with a vague sense of pain.</p> + +<p>That which he saw, like that which he felt, was but momentary. She +turned, looking at him at first with an abstracted gaze, then startled, +as though waking from a dream. "Leonard!" she exclaimed in a low voice. +It sounded like fear.</p> + +<p>"Even so, my dear. Why are you here alone?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—don't know. I was tired."</p> + +<p>"Has this spectacle moved you so?" He pointed to the worshippers.</p> + +<p>"No, not that. I wish I were as good as they; I have watched them +often."</p> + +<p>"Often?" he repeated. He was somewhat indignant at that wish, that she, +his wife, were as good as these idolaters; but it was plain that she was +deeply moved by something, and he was very tender. "Do you come here +often?"</p> + +<p>"I have done so, Leonard." There was humility in her tone, there was +confession; had he known it, there was a cry for aid.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," he said, with some reproach for her, and feeling not a little +for himself, "I hope you are not attracted by the glitter of Romanism. +Surely you can pray in your closet!"</p> + +<p>"I do not pray in the churches," she said. "I did not know that my +visits to them would annoy you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "I can understand that you like to +enjoy the architectural beauties and the solemn influence. But upon me +the crucifixes, the holy water, the vestments—in short, the +frippery—these things have a less agreeable effect. They savor of gross +superstition."</p> + +<p>It was true that she did not pray in the churches. Something restrained +her; perhaps the very memories which had invited her to these wanderings +in dim shadows where so many vain aspirations had been breathed. +Sometimes as she would pass a chapel where knelt a penitent, confessing +to a hidden priest, a strong desire would come upon her to do as the +penitent was doing. Yet why? Even to herself she had not yet admitted +that she had aught to confess.</p> + +<p>They strolled slowly toward their hotel, Leonard silently reproaching +himself that he had not sooner discovered and prevented this habit of +haunting churches, a habit which might lead to lamentable results in one +easily influenced by the external pomp and circumstance of Romanism.</p> + +<p>However, any danger that might exist would soon be passed. Before long +they would be far beyond the subtle influences of priesthood, as well as +other subtle influences which he felt were not altogether healthful. He +sighed, a little regretfully; after all, pleasure was sweet.</p> + +<p>There had been some question whether they should await the possible +arrival of Mrs. Joe. The discussion of this subject had been confined to +himself and the Marquise, Natalie having displayed but a faint interest +in the matter. Only that morning Madame de Fleury had informed him that +the lady of Stormpoint had written to say that she and her party would +come to Paris for a short stay and then accompany the Leonard Claghorns +homeward. He was therefore surprised when Natalie suddenly exclaimed, +"Leonard, let us go home!"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean we should not wait for Mrs. Joe?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Why should we? She has Paula and the maids."</p> + +<p>"And Mark. He counts for something," suggested Leonard, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Of course; and if we wait for them, the waiting will never end. The +Marquise will do all she can to keep them, and Paris is not so easily +left. I foresee more difficulty in getting away gracefully, should they +arrive while we are here, than if we go at once."</p> + +<p>"We can pass through London and explain," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Let us go by Havre. I long to get away, and you ought to be home. I +will write to Mrs. Joe. Let us decide now."</p> + +<p>She was strangely insistent, even agitated. He noticed it and assumed +that she was depressed at the thought of leaving that which was her own +country, and longed to get a painful separation over. To him it was a +matter of indifference by what route they traveled, so long as Mrs. +Joe's susceptibilities were not wounded; and Natalie, assuring him that +her written explanation would prevent that misfortune, the matter was +settled.</p> + +<p>He kissed her as they entered their apartment; for a moment she held her +face close to his.</p> + +<p>That night, being alone and prostrate upon the floor of her room, where +she had sunk, humiliated and ashamed, she uttered a vow to heaven:</p> + +<p>"To him I will be henceforth true in all things; in thought as in deed. +Help me, heaven, to atone, by surrendering to him and in his service +every act and every thought."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>MRS. JOE ON CLERICAL BUMPTIOUSNESS AND MRS. FENTON'S SHOULDERS.</h3> + + +<p>The family of Stormpoint remained abroad until long after Leonard and +his wife were established in the old Morley mansion in Hampton, finally +returning to America without Mark, who remained in England, ostensibly +on business connected with the Great Serpent. He had done nothing to +advance his mother's wishes with regard to Paula, assuming that the lady +had by this time recognized the futility of her hopes, and like the wise +woman he knew her to be, had become reconciled to the inevitable. She +was even wiser than he knew, and a part of her wisdom was to trust to +the future. She would admit defeat when she found herself defeated, +meanwhile acquiescing to all seeming in things as they were, placidly +listening to Paula's confidences as to that celibate sisterhood which +the damsel hoped some day to found, but which, as Mrs. Joe said to +herself, was not founded yet.</p> + +<p>Mark had extracted a promise both from his mother and from Paula that +their letters should contain "all the news of all the Claghorns," +meaning perhaps Mrs. Leonard Claghorn; and when the first letter came +from his mother he opened it eagerly and read: first a great deal of +political advice (at second hand from Mr. Hacket), and toward the end of +the epistle, matter of greater interest.</p> + +<p>"As to Leonard" (wrote the lady), "I fear marriage has not improved him. +Natalie makes the mistake of coddling him too much. Her notion of wifely +duty is extravagant. In their house a thousand things are done for +Leonard's comfort, all thought of by his wife, and her eyes follow him +about as though she were constantly on the watch to anticipate his +wants. She is very quiet in manner and seems rather to wish to echo +Leonard's opinions than to have opinions of her own; all of which has +other than a pleasing effect on Leonard. I suppose, too, that he has +arrived at an age (somewhat late in his case) in which the fact of his +own manliness is the most important fact of existence. He has not been +improved by contact with quite another world than that of Hampton, the +world of Adolphe de Fleury, in which he seems to have mingled rather +surprisingly. One would hardly recommend the allurements of Paris in +such companionship to a young theologian. You know the angels in +Paradise fell, though I do not mean to imply that Paris is paradise, or +Leonard an angel, fallen or otherwise; but his engaging innocence is +gone; perhaps it was inevitable. I am sorry to see in its place an undue +amount of the bumptiousness often affected by members of his profession. +It is quite distressing to think that he should degenerate, he who was +so beautiful to look at, so gentle, yet so strong—in short, so +naturally refined—a word, by the way, which I dislike, but it expresses +the idea. He is not so refined as he was; he is less pleasing to the +eye, there is a shadow of something in his face which I do not like—and +I do <i>not</i> like the way with which he looks at Paula.</p> + +<p>"There, Mark, I have been long in coming to it—but you are not to +misunderstand me. I don't believe Leonard has a thought which could be +regarded as injurious to Natalie, but I don't think he regards feminine +beauty with the eyes one likes to see. I gave a little dinner a few +evenings since; only the Stanleys, the Fentons, Father Cameril and the +Leonard Claghorns. You remember Mrs. Fenton's style; her shoulders (very +beautiful they are—I say shoulders) too much in evidence for my taste. +Leonard hardly took his eyes off of them. Father Cameril, on the +contrary, hardly knew what to do with his to avoid seeing them, and I +don't know which of the pair made me most angry. I remember when Leonard +would have been oblivious of shoulders.</p> + +<p>"He is rather truculent, too, is Mr. Leonard, and fell foul of poor +Father Cameril in a manner which roused even Paula, on the subject of +the Apostolic Succession—in short, I never saw him at such a +disadvantage, and I'm afraid my indignation has carried my pen away.</p> + +<p>"Natalie is lovely. A little sad at times. She confided to me a secret +which no doubt accounts for her rather noticeable pensiveness. There +will be a baby in the old Morley house before the year is out."</p> + +<p>Mark pondered over his mother's letter often, and with more misgiving +than behooved a man interested in his neighbor only in ordinary +neighborly fashion. He did full justice to his mother's shrewd +observation, and believed that her letter was intended to convey more +than appeared on the surface, and his self-communings in reference +thereto were not cheerful.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCES DR. STANLEY, SATAN AND THE PRAYER MEETING OF MATRONS.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Leonard Claghorn had been graciously received by the matrons of +Hampton. She was so interesting (they said), so foreign; and careful +cross-examination of those who had penetrated into the inner sanctuaries +of the Morley mansion had established the fact that there was not a +crucifix in the house. On the whole, the matrons were content. Surely, +the wife of a young professor, so thoroughly grounded in the faith as +was Leonard—though his prominence in the Seminary, in view of his +youth, might be deprecated by some—such a one could not remain +heretical, even if her religious education had been defective. How +awfully defective these excellent ladies did not know.</p> + +<p>On her part, Natalie had been no less gracious. "She'll be one of them +in a year," said Mrs. Joe, alluding to the matrons. "She'll be whatever +Leonard says."</p> + +<p>"I wish Father Cameril could talk with her," sighed Paula.</p> + +<p>"He lost his chance when he contradicted Leonard at my dinner."</p> + +<p>"She certainly is very loyal to her husband," admitted Paula.</p> + +<p>"Altogether too subservient," observed Mrs. Joe testily. "No woman +should permit her whole nature to be absorbed in that manner. No wonder +he's bumptious."</p> + +<p>"Bumptious!"</p> + +<p>"Conceited. Pliancy, Paula, is a virtue in a wife. I was pliant myself; +still the most devoted of wives ought to have an opinion of her own."</p> + +<p>"Natalie is so sweet," urged the extenuating Paula.</p> + +<p>"Sweet! So are you; so was I; so was Tabitha Cone to the man that gave +her that monstrous watch—but sweetness may be sickening."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cousin Alice!"</p> + +<p>"It irritates me, because it's not Natalie's true character. She had a +mind of her own once, and a good one. Actually, she's superior to +Leonard——"</p> + +<p>"He's a very brilliant man, Cousin."</p> + +<p>"To look at, and glib; but inferior to his wife. Men generally are. Yet +she effaces herself. She overdoes her loyalty. She is playing a part!"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Alice!" remonstrated Paula.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean she's consciously a hypocrite, and you needn't flare. +She's imbibed some absurd notions of wifely duty, and is trying to carry +them out."</p> + +<p>An impression made upon an observer as keen as Mrs. Joe must have a +foundation. In her irritation the lady had expressed the truth. Natalie +was playing a part.</p> + +<p>Since the day in St. Roch when she, recalling a day long past, had lost +herself in a dream of what might have been—since then she had been +playing a part, the part of a penitent; the role she had assumed when +later, in humiliation and conscience-stricken, she had prostrated +herself before heaven, vowing the only atonement possible.</p> + +<p>She had seen the beginning of that change in Leonard which remained a +cause of irritation to Mrs. Joe; nor had she been ignorant of the +influences to which it was in part to be ascribed; but her conscience +had whispered that in very truth the effect of those influences was to +be attributed to herself. In her marriage an essential element had been +absent, and was wanting still. To complete that holy mystery and adorn +it with its rarer graces, to tinge its atmosphere with consecrated +incense, there must be spiritual union. If Leonard had not learned of +nobler joys than the lesser gratification that engaged his thoughts, was +it not because such joys had not been offered?</p> + +<p>To those religious teachings which had been deferred she now looked +forward as to the means whereby both could attain to that higher union +which she craved, and which when attained would surely soothe her +troubled spirit and aid in that atonement prescribed by her conscience +and which she had vowed, and of which the subservience disapproved by +Mrs. Joe was a minor manifestation. So, though timidly, for his +reluctance (so strange to her) was apparent, she sought to bring Leonard +to discussion of religious subjects.</p> + +<p>"Was Jonathan Edwards a great man?" she asked one day, and then +regretted her question, for at that passage of arms which had occurred +at Mrs. Joe's table, Father Cameril had mentioned the name, a fact +forgotten until it was recalled to her memory by the lowering brow of +Leonard.</p> + +<p>"A great man, indeed!" he answered; "an apostle of truth. Chattering +imbeciles like Father Cameril may tell you differently."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of Father Cameril. I read the title of your article, +'Jonathan Edwards, a Man Athirst for God.'"</p> + +<p>"So he was; and one who slaked his thirst at the well of knowledge. A +great and good man, Natalie, though shallow reasoners are glad to deny +the merit of the greatest of metaphysicians. The truth is they're afraid +of him."</p> + +<p>"Why afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Because his logic is inexorable, the unassailable truth he utters not +lovely to all hearers. Edwards declines to abate one jot or tittle of +God's message. It has become the fashion even among men of greater +intellect than Mr. Cameril has been endowed with to avoid Edwards, +but——"</p> + +<p>"I should think all would crave the truth. I would like to read him."</p> + +<p>"Not now," he said, kissing her. "Dr. Stanley advises steering clear of +Edwards," he continued, laughing, "though not for the usual reasons. You +must follow the fashion for awhile, Natalie."</p> + +<p>He knew that public opinion would expect, and in time demand, his wife's +union with the church. Had she been trained from childhood in orthodox +tenets her preparedness for the sacrament would have been presumed, and, +at some convenient season, when souls are garnered as crops are +garnered, it being assumed that they ripen like the fruits of the +earth, she would have been duly gathered to the fold with those other +members of the congregation whose time for experiencing religion had +come. But there was no presumption of early instruction in Natalie's +case.</p> + +<p>He would have been better pleased if his position had not required +deference to that opinion which would demand Natalie's entrance into the +doctrinal fold. If she were chosen for salvation, what difference could +it make whether she was instructed as to the Confession or not? Where +were the women that were so instructed? Nowhere. They had some phrases +and some faint recollection of Sabbath-school lessons, but as to any +real knowledge of the mysteries they professed, he knew that the laymen +of his denomination were in general as ignorant as those puppets of the +Romish priesthood who left such matters to their betters. And secretly +he regarded this as the correct system. He was not sorry that he had a +valid excuse for avoiding domestic theological discussion in the dictum +of Dr. Stanley.</p> + +<p>The doctor, who had been present on the occasion when Leonard had fallen +foul of Father Cameril, and who had been amused at the husband's +truculence, had also noted the anxious look of the wife. He had known +Leonard almost since boyhood and liked him; he was, for reasons of his +own, especially interested in Leonard's wife.</p> + +<p>Doctor Stanley's position in Hampton was not unlike that of Satan in the +world. He was endured of necessity and his services called in +requisition, because in certain straits there was no getting along +without him. "The parsons don't want to go to heaven," he would say, +"any more than the rest of us, so when they're sick they call me in, and +when they're well they smile on me; but, if I weren't a doctor, Hampton +would be too hot to hold me." All of which, if true, was because Dr. +Stanley was troubled with a theological itch of his own, and, though +calling God the "Unknowable," claimed knowledge with as much confidence +as his orthodox rivals, and with equal truculence. He was at some +disadvantage in his public onslaughts on Hamptonian strongholds, since +his followers were few; but at occasional lectures, the meagre proceeds +whereof went to sustain a Mechanics' Library, founded by the doctor for +the behoof of philosophical plumbers and carpenters, he sometimes +charged upon the foe with great gallantry, if but little effect. In his +private capacity he was genial, amiable and good-hearted, and, if hated +as an infidel, was loved as a man. As a physician, the general faith in +his skill was nearly unbounded.</p> + +<p>His wife, who laughed at him and loved him, was that Lettie Stanley of +whose ultimate salvation Miss Claghorn had grave doubt. She was, if +unhappily "passed by," still of the elect race, and Miss Achsah, on the +occasion of her union with the doctor, had expressed the opinion that +the Reverend Josias Claghorn, father of the unfortunate, had celebrated +the nuptials by turning in his grave. It was not known that she was, +like her husband, an absolute unbeliever, since she sometimes appeared +at public worship, and there were among the ladies of Hampton one or two +who maintained that she was a pious woman. However, it was certain that +she was heterodox, a grievous circumstance which gave great and just +cause of offense to these descendants of the original seekers after +liberty of conscience. She was active in charitable work, and though +admitted to the Shakespeare Society, was not a member of any of the +distinctly denominational organizations. She had been invited to the +"Thursday Prayer Meeting of Matrons," and had declined, flippantly, the +matrons proclaimed, and on the ground that though she was willing to be +prayed for, she did not wish to be prayed at. For the rest, she was a +handsome woman of middle age, with large, tender eyes and a cheery +disposition, tinged with a certain melancholy, which some called +cynicism.</p> + +<p>This lady had also noted with disapproval Leonard's manner on the +occasion of Mrs. Joe's dinner. "He's getting spoiled," she had observed +to her husband, as they left the hospitable mansion.</p> + +<p>"Theological manner," replied the doctor. "They can't help it. Cameril +would have been as bad, if he dared. What do you think of Leonard's +wife?"</p> + +<p>"A beautiful woman, who adores her husband. I wonder why her eyes are +sad?"</p> + +<p>"Her eyes are like yours."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, Doctor; I'm an old woman——"</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense. She not only resembles you as to eyes, but in +disposition."</p> + +<p>"Of course you know all about her disposition."</p> + +<p>"It's my business to know. Mrs. Leonard's my patient, and her +idiosyncrasies——"</p> + +<p>"Are doubtless interesting, as pertaining to a handsome woman; but how +do they resemble mine?"</p> + +<p>"She's a religious enthusiast."</p> + +<p>"Well!" ejaculated the lady; "after years of observation that is your +wise conclusion. I won't say tell that to the marines, which would be +undignified, but tell it to the Hampton matrons."</p> + +<p>"The matrons of Hampton know nothing of religion; they're theologians."</p> + +<p>The lady laughed. "If she is really like I was at her age, I am sorry +for her. Had I married a man like Leonard——"</p> + +<p>"My dear, with your excellent taste you did much better; but I thought +Leonard was a favorite of yours."</p> + +<p>"I like him, but I detest his creed."</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose he believes it?"</p> + +<p>"He says he does, which is of more consequence."</p> + +<p>"How can any human being believe the Westminster Confession?"</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose any human being does. It's a question of obstinacy, +pride; a question of being caught in a trap."</p> + +<p>The doctor laughed.</p> + +<p>"You, my dear," continued the lady, "lack religious sentiment. You don't +care. <i>I</i> cannot help being indignant when I see religion desecrated by +religionists. It may be from the same feeling that I am sorry for a +woman who adores her husband, and who must eventually find him out."</p> + +<p>"Find him out! My dear——"</p> + +<p>"I mean find out that he's not all that she has pictured. Leonard is a +very ordinary mortal."</p> + +<p>"But, on the whole, a very good fellow."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly, but—a theologian of Hampton. I don't think you +appreciate all that that may chance to mean to a woman you are pleased +to call a religious enthusiast—meaning, I suppose, a woman who really +craves religion."</p> + +<p>"You must not take a word too seriously. The fact is that Mrs. Leonard +has what may be termed an exalted temperament. One day I found her in +tears and with traces of great agitation. She had been reading a book of +ecstatic character. I hinted to Leonard that just now that sort of thing +wouldn't do——"</p> + +<p>"You were quite right. I remember that I suffered——"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to say that the lady had been suffering; on the contrary, +I think she'd been having a good time. The book, by the way, was the +life of some Roman saint—but good times of that sort are not to be +indulged in by a lady about to have a baby."</p> + +<p>"What did Leonard say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he was amenable—more so than I expected. Of course, I said nothing +about the Catholic book. Leonard is like prospective fathers, easily +scared. They are much more tractable than prospective mothers; so I +scared him."</p> + +<p>The more easily that Leonard had been willing to be scared.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE MUSIC OF THE CHORUS OF THE ANGUISH OF THE DAMNED.</h3> + + +<p>"Socrates," observed Miss Achsah, "is damned."</p> + +<p>"If <i>you</i> say so, he must be," was the sarcastic rejoinder of Tabitha +Cone.</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn, with a stern gaze at her companion, opened Hodge's +Commentary on The Confession of Faith and read: "'The heathen in mass, +with no single, definite and unquestioned example on record, are +evidently strangers to God and going down to death in an unsaved +condition.' That," she said, "settles Socrates."</p> + +<p>It did not settle Tabitha, whose question touched the weak spot in +Hodge's assertion. "Where'd he see the record?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Tabitha," remonstrated Miss Achsah with evident sincerity, "sometimes I +doubt your election. The audacity of setting up <i>your</i> opinion——"</p> + +<p>Tabitha was human and venerated print. She was a little frightened at +her own temerity, and Miss Claghorn's seriousness did not tend to +reassure her. "There's Brigston," she said weakly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and there's 'Greenland's Icy Mountains,' and 'India's Coral +Strand,'" answered the lady pertinently, and closing the book and the +discussion.</p> + +<p>But, if closed at the White House, it raged furiously in the theological +world. Until recently the permanent abode of Socrates had been as well +known as that of Satan. No decree, whether of Roman or Protestant Pope, +had been needed to establish a fact settled to the satisfaction of all +(except, perhaps, to that of the Athenian sage) by the Eternal Decree of +Omnipotence. It was reserved for a deluded doctor of the rival Seminary +of Brigston to promulgate doubts of a self-evident truth. Such an +affront to Westminster and the immutable justice of God was not to be +borne in silence by Hampton.</p> + +<p>A storm of unexampled fury burst from theological clouds, and Leonard, +sniffing the odor of battle, joyously saw that his day had dawned. Into +the fray he plunged, a gallant knight armed with the sword of orthodoxy, +battling in the name of God and by the lurid light of hell, in order +that the music of the chorus of the anguish of the damned might still +arise, a dulcet melody, to heaven.</p> + +<p>And while the din of the holy war filled the air, Natalie welcomed a +little babe, the light of whose clear blue eyes melted her soul in +tenderness. To look into their celestial purity was to see heaven's +glory reflected in the azure depths. The deeper springs of tenderness, +closed to the rude touch of Leonard's passion, were opened, and love +undefiled gushed forth in a stream of unspeakable gladness. Her health +remained delicate, and she was long confined to the house, but, aside +from a pleasant languor, being physically at ease, she found in the care +of the infant sufficient occupation. She was glad that she could be much +alone with the boy, and held many and sweet communings with that soul +she had discovered in his eyes. She never wearied of reading the mystery +of those clear depths and, always connecting the child with heaven, in +her simple belief, imagining the newcomer as lately from that blissful +region, she built upon her fancies a system of theology which would have +startled and confounded the Hampton Matrons. And, as before, in sight of +the grandeur of God upon the waters, Leonard's lower self had been +humbled, so now, the beauty of a pure soul, all its glory set forth in +motherhood, chastened his earthly nature, and he bowed with the +reverence of simple souls to saints.</p> + +<p>Leonard's creed was, as is the case with creeds, a matter apart from his +life; wherefore there was nothing strange in the fact that he could +leave the presence of the two pure creatures, and retiring to his study, +damn countless souls to hell in essays of exceeding force and +brilliancy. Young as he was, all Hampton gloried in these labors whereby +Brigston was smitten and abashed. There were champions more learned, +being older; but, being older, their pens were encumbered with caution +and hampered by the knowledge that pitfalls and traps lurk in the dark +thickets of theological controversy. But Leonard had the daring of +youth. Logic was logic, and truth not for a day, but eternal. Truth led +to the Westminster Confession, which damns the great majority, Socrates +included. To quibble with the plain meaning of plain words would be to +follow the heretical Brigstonian, to deny the inspiration of Scripture, +to be a traitor to his party and his creed. If the same decree which +damned Socrates consigned the great majority of his own friends and +acquaintances to the same everlasting misery, it couldn't be helped. +And, in fact, there was no reason why Leonard should shrink from that +which thousands of men and women profess to believe, yet marry and bring +forth children doomed, the while eating dinner in content.</p> + +<p>Echoes of the merry war reached Natalie, but her curiosity was but +faintly stirred. She saw that Leonard avoided the topic when alone with +her, and was now content to learn nothing from her husband; seeing in +her child her best teacher in heavenly lore. Her exhibition of maternal +love extorted some disapproving comment; Mrs. Joe called it "uncanny," +Tabitha said she was a queer mother, Miss Claghorn disapprovingly +likened her adoration to Romanism—"Idolatry," she said to Tabitha.</p> + +<p>"Yet," replied Tabitha, "she hardly ever hugs or kisses him. She just +looks at him, and if you catch her at it she passes it off."</p> + +<p>"Just as you or I might if the cook were to come in while we were saying +our prayers."</p> + +<p>"Something 'ill happen to the child," said Tabitha ominously.</p> + +<p>Miss Claghorn did not dispute it; the two were so perfectly in accord as +to their sentiment in this matter that there was no chance for dispute.</p> + +<p>Thus, in a strange, secret relation, mother and child lived more than a +year together, and then Tabitha Cone's oracular prophecy was fulfilled. +Something happened to the child, which something was death; and Natalie +was stricken as by a thunderbolt.</p> + +<p>The most alarming phase of her illness was of short duration; she had +been long unconscious, and during that period they who watched her had +noticed, with something akin to awe, the heavenly peacefulness and sweet +smile of her face. From her mutterings they gathered that she roamed in +celestial regions with her boy. Dr. Stanley was evidently not favorably +impressed with these supposed visions, and as soon as it was feasible +ordered her removal to Stormpoint, where the sun shone brighter than in +the old house, and where there would be fewer reminders of her loss.</p> + +<p>Leonard, who had been severely stricken by the death of the child and +worn with anxiety on his wife's account, acquiesced. The complete change +of scene which the physician desired involved his absence from her side. +"Of course you'll visit her daily, if you choose," said the doctor, "but +if you are constantly together she will inevitably talk of the child and +of heaven, and we must keep her away from heaven." Natalie remonstrated, +but rather feebly. Since the birth of the child Mrs. Joe had seen less +cause to complain of undue absorption in the husband by the wife. Thus, +to keep Natalie from contemplation of heaven, Leonard returned to +contemplation of hell; for the war still raged, though with some +slackness. Leonard girded up his loins and prepared to inject the spirit +which had somewhat diminished during his own absence from the lines of +battle.</p> + +<p>The mistress of Stormpoint watched her new inmate keenly. "It's natural +that she should love her child, even though he's dead," she said to +Paula, "but she talks with him. I heard her."</p> + +<p>"Her faith is perfect," exclaimed Paula with solemn enthusiasm. "She +knows he lives forever."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well; but he don't live at Stormpoint."</p> + +<p>"She feels his presence, though she cannot see him."</p> + +<p>"She says she does. Of course, it's fiddlesticks; but the doctor ought +to know."</p> + +<p>And the doctor, being informed, agreed with Mrs. Joe that conversation +with angels was not to be encouraged. "A very little roast beef and a +great deal of fresh air," was his prescription, "A trip somewhere when +she is stronger. Meanwhile, keep bores away—Father Cameril and +Leonard."</p> + +<p>"I can't lock Leonard out."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could; he has a grievance and may be tempted to unburden his +soul to his wife."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of no grievance."</p> + +<p>"You will; the reaction has come. Yesterday they crowned him with +laurels; to-day they are damning him—of course, in parliamentary +phrase—from the president of the Seminary down to the janitor."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! Why, Doctor, only a few days since Dr. Burley spoke of him +in the highest terms."</p> + +<p>"A few days since! Ask him now. Leonard has played the frog to Burley's +ox. It was right to confute Brigston with Greek texts; they produced a +good deal of fog and little illumination. But Leonard must shove himself +in as interpreter between the heavyweights and the populace. Of course +his action was abhorrent; it is to me. There ought to be an <i>esprit de +corps</i> in all professions. I shouldn't approve if some young medical +spark were to give away <i>our</i> secrets."</p> + +<p>The physician, if flippantly, spoke the truth. Leonard had been rash, as +youth is wont to be. Wise and venerable heads had from the beginning +wagged in disapproval of his excess of zeal. To bury the Brigstonian +deep beneath the fragments of his own exploded logic was well, but it +was also well to be wary, to lay no hasty hand upon and drag forth +mysteries which could not bear the light of day. Leonard was brilliant; +but brilliancy was not caution. Theological argumentation, to be +convincing, must be obscure; mystification, rather than conviction, is +the prop of faith.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry he's in trouble," observed the lady.</p> + +<p>The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Inevitable!" he exclaimed. "He's +obstinate and conceited. His last pamphlet, 'Dr. Burley's True Meaning,' +is monstrous. What right had he to give Burley away in that manner? If +Burley had wanted to state his meaning, wouldn't he have done it? +Leonard swallows the whole Westminster Confession at a gulp, and points +out that Hampton and Burley do the same thing. What maladroit +presumption! He ought to know that Hampton only bolts the morsel +because it must. Its contortions during the process of deglutition ought +to be charitably concealed. Who is Leonard that he should tear away the +veil which hides a harrowing spectacle?"</p> + +<p>Which burst of eloquence was not wholly intelligible to the lady, who, +however, saw the need of dragging the doctor down from his hobby. "Well, +he must not discuss these matters with his wife," she said, "if you +disapprove."</p> + +<p>"No. For ladies in the condition of our patient the Westminster +Confession is too lurid. Needless to say to a matron of your experience +that in the case of a bereaved young mother the brain should not be +excited, the affections over-stimulated, the fancy be allowed to rove at +will, either amid the joys of heaven or the horrors of hell."</p> + +<p>Wherefore Paula was instructed to avoid conversation concerning themes +celestial or infernal, and was thus deprived of a pleasure; for there +had been much loving talk between her and Natalie concerning the child, +now abiding in heavenly regions. Perhaps Natalie sorrowed a little, +noting that Paula no longer lingered over the favorite topic; if so, she +made no comment; her thoughts were her own.</p> + +<p>"What is true marriage?" she asked one day.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," replied Paula, taken unawares, and not sure whether +this new topic were celestial or infernal. "Celibacy, as the ideal +state——"</p> + +<p>"A wife vows obedience," interrupted Natalie—she had heard Paula before +on celibacy—"that's a small matter. Who wouldn't be obedient?"</p> + +<p>"But, suppose a husband were to require something wrong," suggested +Paula, disturbed by the fleeting vision of a wife of St. Perpetua +deprived of fish on Fridays by a wicked spouse.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't be a true husband. My ideal of marriage is unity in all +things—tastes, hopes, beliefs——"</p> + +<p>"Belief, of course. And to the realization of that ideal a churchwoman +would lead her husband."</p> + +<p>"Or, if the husband were the better Christian, he would lead his wife."</p> + +<p>After due consideration, Paula repeated the monosyllable "if?"</p> + +<p>"And, if he showed no disposition to lead his wife, which might be the +case for some good reason, she ought to try and attain his standpoint. +Then she would evince that perfect sympathy which all the while the +husband may be longing for."</p> + +<p>"I—I suppose so," replied Paula, always dreading an approach toward +forbidden ground.</p> + +<p>"If a wife had wronged her husband, even without intention," Natalie +went on, after a considerable pause, "that fact would stand in the way +of complete sympathy."</p> + +<p>"There could be no wrong without intention—that is, no fault."</p> + +<p>"But still a wrong; one that the doer might find it harder to forgive +than the sufferer. If you were my wife. Paula——"</p> + +<p>"Say husband," said Paula, laughing, "and since you find obedience so +easy, I order you to prepare to let me drive you to the White House in +the pony-phaeton."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>CURSING AND BEATING HER BREAST, SHE FELL UPON THE GRAVE.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Joe sought, and very easily obtained, Leonard's confidence in +regard to the grievance to which Dr. Stanley had alluded. Hampton had +been only too glad, so he averred, to accept his aid in overcoming +Brigston; and if that was in the way of accomplishment (and who could +deny it?) the fact was more attributable to him (Leonard) than to any +other man. "I simply popularized Dr. Burley's learned, but certainly +obscurely-written article, giving its author full credit; and now he +says I misrepresented him, and his complaint is echoed by every toady in +Hampton. The papers, even the secular papers, are actually making sport +of me."</p> + +<p>"But Dr. Burley can't deny what he wrote."</p> + +<p>Even Leonard smiled at her simplicity. "He can deny what I wrote, +although, in other words, it is exactly what he wrote. And that is +morally just as bad."</p> + +<p>The lady was full of sympathy; the more so as his "bumptiousness" was +gone. He had been plainly deeply wounded, yet out of consideration for +his wife, he had borne his grief in silence. In Mrs. Joe's eyes this +abnegation deserved recognition. There was a way by which he could +humiliate his enemies, and yet be of so much importance that they would +not venture to show resentment. She had, as we know, already "worked the +Seminary" in behoof of her "policy." She could work it a little more, +and help both Leonard and herself. Her donations to the library had not +heretofore been of large amounts, for she shrank from ostentation, but +she had always intended to be magnificent on some convenient occasion. +By being so through Leonard, she could avoid display and yet possess its +advantages, for the Seminary authorities would, of course, know the +source of a donation from a modestly anonymous lady, coming through the +hands of Leonard.</p> + +<p>So this matter was easily arranged. "And," suggested the lady, "after +you have given notice of the donation and have heaped coals on Dr. +Burley's head, go away for awhile. It will do you good, and they can +think their conduct over."</p> + +<p>The idea appealed to Leonard, who saw the situation dramatically; but +when Mrs. Joe proposed that he accompany herself, Paula and Natalie on a +visit to Mrs. Leon at Newport, he declined with some perturbation. "I'll +go to New York," he said. And, on the whole, Mrs. Joe thought this was +best, though she was surprised.</p> + +<p>She was glad when he had departed, believing that his absence would have +the effect of rousing Natalie from a condition incompatible with the +life of every day, in that it would result in wholesome longing for her +husband. And the politic lady soon saw her hope justified. Leonard had +been gone but a day when Natalie announced a desire to return to her own +house; not to remain, but to order some domestic arrangements, more +especially with the view of making Leonard's study more attractive than +it had been, even in those days of "coddling" which Mrs. Joe had once +found objectionable, but whose returning symptoms she now hailed with +approval.</p> + +<p>At Natalie's request she was driven past the cemetery, where she +alighted, and, bidding the coachman wait, she sought her child's grave. +Some tears came to her eyes as she laid flowers on the still fresh earth +and stood for many minutes leaning on the headstone. Her thoughts were +far away. In a room in Paris she saw a woman humbled by a consciousness +of wrong; and here, at the most sacred spot on earth, she renewed her +vow of atonement.</p> + +<p>She returned slowly to the carriage and was driven to the Morley +mansion, where she was welcomed with effusion by the maids. From them +she for the first time learned that her husband had often worked far +into the night, and while listening to their comments, she reproached +herself that she had left him alone. The house, with its closed +shutters, was gloomy even on this bright day; what had it been in the +long nights?</p> + +<p>She instructed the servants to prepare a light luncheon for her at noon +and leave it on the dining table, paying no further heed to her. She +intended, she said, to arrange her husband's books.</p> + +<p>But first she went upstairs. There beside her bed was the child's crib, +cheerless without its sheets and embroidery. The empty room, from which +daylight was nearly excluded chilled her. The rugs were removed and her +heels clicked sharply on the bare floor, making hollow echoes as she +walked. She overcame the oppressive sense of desolation and went about +her tasks.</p> + +<p>She put the child's trinkets away; the spoon which had been useless, the +cup from which he had never drunk, the gold chain given by Mrs. Joe, and +which, partaking of the nature of the Great Serpent, had been found too +heavy for agreeable wear; these were laid among her treasures. His +clothes, except the little gown he had worn when dying, were put aside +to be sent to poor women, already mothers or about to become such. +Leonard had once suggested kindly that they were too fine. "The mothers +won't think so," she had replied.</p> + +<p>This work finished, she closed the door of the room and walked down the +broad, old-fashioned stairway, every foot-fall echoing through the +ancient house of which she seemed to be the only occupant; and though +she knew the maids were at their tasks and within reach, the impression +affected her unpleasantly. She glanced more than once over her shoulder +as she descended the staircase and walked through the echoing hall.</p> + +<p>She entered the library—a large room, dedicated, at least nominally, +even in the days of Jeremiah Morley, to its present purpose, and later, +by Cousin Jared and her husband, lined from floor to ceiling with books, +a cheerful room when lighted, but now, with bare floor and closed +shutters, a gloomy vault in whose distant corners, where the shadows +were dark, the spirits of former occupants might lurk and peer at this +invader. The uncanny impressions that had been with her were deepened by +the sombre fancies awakened by the aspect of the room, in which the +confusion attendant on Leonard's labors was everywhere apparent. Books +were everywhere—on chairs, on tables, on the floor, face downward in +the shelves.</p> + +<p>She took up a small volume. Its evident antiquity attracted her and she +read the title-page: "Delay Not; or, A Call to the Careless," by the +Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn. Numerous names on the fly-leaves disclosed +that the book had been handed down through many Claghorns. The last name +was her husband's; preceding that his father's, to whom it had been +given, as testified by the inscription, by "E. Beverley Claghorn." E. +Beverley Claghorn, she knew, had been her own father. Turning the pages, +her attention was arrested.</p> + +<p>She read for hours. Sunk in a heap on the floor, forgotten by the +servants, her eyes gloated on the page written by her ancestor. No +romance had ever enchained her attention as did all this "Call to the +Careless." If the writer had so charmed the reader of his own +generation, the dead hand that had composed the pages which held this +reader spell-bound must have been guided by a brain cunning in the +author's craft. Whatever was the story, the woman lived in its terrors; +she cowered and moaned, her eyes stood out, and her face was a face +distorted by the horror of a soul in fear. But she could not leave the +story. Enthralled until the last page had been turned, she only then +looked up, and her eyes, which that morning had been bright with the +light of hope, born of the resolve to resume her duties as a wife, were +now dull with the shadow of an awful dread.</p> + +<p>She glanced fearfully around and tried to rise, but crouched again upon +the floor, one hand still clutching book and dust-cloth, the other held +as though to shield her from a blow. She uttered no word, but a strange, +hoarse rattle came from her throat, as though she would have prayed, had +her voice been at her command. At last she rose, half staggering, +retreating backward toward the door, as though she feared some presence, +and, not daring to turn, must face it. Thus she passed out of the room +and from the house.</p> + +<p>She walked, at first, with uncertain steps, then more firmly, and with +ever swifter stride. The by-streets through which she passed were quiet, +almost deserted; she was hardly noticed, though in one or two observers +a faint curiosity was aroused by the figure of the well-dressed, hatless +woman, be-aproned and clasping to her breast a dust-cloth and a book. As +for her, she noticed nothing as she hastened on.</p> + +<p>Without pause, with ever-increasing pace, which had now become a run, +she entered the gates of the cemetery, threading its alleys, seeing +nothing with her bodily eyes; for their horror and despair were no +reflection of the mournful yet peaceful scene in which she passed. She +came to the grave of her child. Again she crouched as she had done in +the library of her home; her despairing eyes were turned upward and her +hands raised in appeal to the serene and pitiless sky.</p> + +<p>Words came to her in the language of her childhood. "My God," she cried, +"Fiend that dwellest beyond the sky, have mercy. Pitiless Father, who +didst condemn thy Son for sport, whose nostrils love the scent of +burning men, whose ears find music in their agony, whose eyes gloat upon +their writhings, take me to thy hell of torment and release my child."</p> + +<p>And so, with frantic blasphemy, cursing God and beating her breast, she +fell forward upon the baby's grave.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>DR. STANLEY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE DIVERSIONS OF THE SAINTS.</h3> + + +<p>At the hour agreed upon, Mrs. Joe left Stormpoint to fetch Natalie. As +the latter had done in the morning, and in order to inspect the +newly-erected headstone, she alighted from her carriage at the cemetery +and passed through various alleys, when, as she approached her +destination, she suddenly halted.</p> + +<p>A woman was stretched upon the grave, who, on hearing the ejaculation of +Mrs. Joe, partly raised her head, disclosing an earth-bedaubed face, and +emitting sounds not human, but rather the moans of a tortured animal.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe ran and seized her shoulder, and at the touch Natalie half +arose. Her gleaming eyes, her face distorted and soiled with +earth—these presented an appalling spectacle.</p> + +<p>The lady of Stormpoint could hardly have told how the task was +accomplished, but she succeeded in inducing the frantic woman to enter +the carriage, and, thus separated from the grave, she became quieter, +though never ceasing to mutter phrases which caused the listener to +shudder. Mrs. Joe was a woman of varied experience. She had heard the +oaths of mining camps when pistols and knives were out and frenzied +ruffians were athirst for blood; she would have thought no form of +profanity strange to her ears; yet she had heard no blasphemy equal to +that uttered by her companion, repeated as a weary child asleep may +repeat some hard-learned sentence impressed upon a tired brain.</p> + +<p>Arrived home, and Natalie in her bed, and withal lying quiet, and the +carriage dispatched at full speed for Dr. Stanley, there was time to +consider the next step.</p> + +<p>"Send for Father Cameril," urged Paula.</p> + +<p>"What is Leonard's address?" asked the lady, ignoring the suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Dear," said Paula, caressingly, and taking Natalie's hand, "where is +Leonard?"</p> + +<p>"In hell," was the answer. "I am overjoyed in hearing the howlings of +hell. My joy is increased as I gaze upon Leonard in the midst of that +sea of suffering."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord deliver us!" ejaculated Mrs. Joe. Paula fell upon her knees. +"Father in heaven!" she commenced.</p> + +<p>Natalie looked at her with languid interest "The sight of hell-torments +exalts the happiness of the saints," she said.</p> + +<p>At this delectable quotation from Jonathan Edwards Mrs. Joe wrung her +hands; Paula uttered a half scream and burst into tears; in the same +moment Dr. Stanley was ushered into the room.</p> + +<p>"A frightful shock!" was his verdict. "Absolute quiet! No tears; no +exorcisms," with a warning finger upheld for Paula. "I'll send a nurse +at once and return soon."</p> + +<p>By night he was again in the house, having received bulletins from the +nurse in the meanwhile. The patient was asleep; had been so for nearly +three hours. "Excellent!" he said to Mrs. Joe, finding that lady +awaiting his report in the library. "It's a fine brain, Mrs. Claghorn. +Let us hope it may prove a strong one. Can you explain further than you +could this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"The keeper of the cemetery knows nothing. Her maids are here. I sent +James for them, and have kept them to be questioned by you."</p> + +<p>The maids only knew that Mrs. Leonard had visited the house, and had +spent the day in the library; that one of them, noting that her mistress +had neglected the luncheon that had been laid out for her, had ventured +to look into the room. "She was crouched on the floor, reading; I could +not well see her face. When I spoke she waved her hand, as though I was +not to interrupt. That was about two o'clock. I went back to the +kitchen, just putting the tea on the range so's to heat it. Then neither +Martha nor I thought anything more about her, until about five Martha +thought she heard the front door slam. We looked in the library; she +was gone. She hadn't touched the lunch." Such, relieved of some +circumlocution, was the report of the maid most glib of speech. They +were dismissed by the doctor.</p> + +<p>"She has done," was his comment, "that which creed-adherents usually +omit. She has read, and as a consequence is crazed."</p> + +<p>"Crazed as a consequence of reading!" exclaimed Mrs. Joe.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Leonard has sustained a shock; there must be a cause. No external +injury is discoverable. The cause is to be found in her moral, or, if +you please, her spiritual constitution—I don't care what you call +it—among other things in strong maternal yearnings—subjective causes +these, and not sufficient to explain the seizure; there must have been +an agent. The maid found her deeply absorbed; people that read crouched +on the floor are so; therefore a book——"</p> + +<p>"I took this from her," exclaimed the lady, producing the Reverend +Eliphalet's "Call to the Careless."</p> + +<p>"Aha!" exclaimed the doctor, pouncing upon the volume and glancing at +the title-page, "here we have it; here's enough to convert a lying-in +hospital into Bedlam."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe gazed upon the fat little volume in the hand of the speaker, +with the same expression with which a novice might contemplate an +overgrown spider impaled upon the card of a collector.</p> + +<p>"This unctuous treatise," proceeded the doctor, who, finding his hobby +saddled, was impatient to mount, "was written by a shining light of that +family to which you and I have been graciously permitted to ally +ourselves. In this volume are recorded the ecstatic transports of one of +the most blessed of the blessed Claghorns. Our patient may have derived +her tendency to exaltation from this very rhapsodist. Here, with the +Reverend Eliphalet, we may revel in angelic joys; with him, we may, +god-like, gloat over sinners damned, and, enraptured, contemplate +Flames, Torment and Despair; here our ears may be charmed with the Roars +of Age, the Howls of Youth, the Screams of Childhood and the Wails of +Infancy; all in linked sweetness long drawn out; all in capital +letters, and all extorted by the Flames that Lick the Suffering +Damned!"</p> + +<p>"Doctor!" exclaimed the lady, scandalized at that which she supposed was +a burst of profanity.</p> + +<p>"Shocked? Well, shocking it is—in me, who refuse to believe it, but +edifying in Eliphalet. Ah! madam, the evil that men do lives after them. +Was truth ever better exemplified? Listen to this: The writer pictures +himself in heaven and looking down into hell. 'What joy to behold Truth +vindicated from all the horrid aspersions of hellish monsters!' (that's +me) 'I am overjoyed at hearing the everlasting Howlings of the Haters of +the Almighty! Oh! Sweet, sweet. My heart is satisfied!'"</p> + +<p>The lady attempted to interrupt, but the doctor continued to read: "The +saints in glory will see and better understand (than we do) how terrible +the sufferings of the damned are! When they have this sight it will +excite them to joyful praises,' that's a choice bit from Jonathan +Edwards. What do you think of the diversions of 'the saints in glory?'"</p> + +<p>"It's blasphemy!"</p> + +<p>"Blasphemy! Tell it not in Hampton! But listen to Jonathan again. Here +is his picture of a sinner just condemned. His parents are witnesses of +his terror and agony, and thus they righteously gloat: 'When they shall +see what manifestations of amazement will be in you at the hearing of +this dreadful sentence; when they shall behold you with a frightened and +amazed countenance, trembling and astonished, and shall hear you groan +and gnash your teeth, these things will not move them at all to pity +you, but you will see them with a holy joy in their countenances and +with songs in their mouths. When they shall see you turned away and +beginning to enter into the great furnace, and shall see how you shrink +at it, and hear how you shriek and cry out, yet they will not be at all +grieved for you; but at the same time you will hear from them renewed +praises and hallelujahs for this true and righteous judgment of God in +so dealing with you!'"</p> + +<p>"If," interjected the listener, "that is written there, the devil wrote +it."</p> + +<p>"The devil may have had a hand in the matter, but it was written by no +less a person than Jonathan Edwards, regarded, and justly, by the +Reverend Eliphalet and others, as a great man. He is also quoted here as +saying to his hearers, 'If you perish hereafter, it will be an occasion +of joy to all the godly'; one is hardly surprised that he didn't get on +with his congregation. Imagine Father Cameril making that announcement +with you and Miss Paula in the front pew."</p> + +<p>"Doctor, if you are not inventing——"</p> + +<p>"I could not. My imagination is not warmed by the flames of hell or by +celestial visions. This book is filled with similar elegant extracts."</p> + +<p>"I have heard enough, Doctor. Really——"</p> + +<p>"Permit me one or two more. We have hardly heard the author himself as +yet."</p> + +<p>"But to what end?"</p> + +<p>"You were incredulous when I asserted that a day's reading in Leonard's +library would account for the present condition of his wife. It's only +fair to allow me to justify my assertion."</p> + +<p>"You have read enough to drive <i>me</i> crazy, if for one moment I believed +it."</p> + +<p>"Hardly. <i>You</i> are not a recently bereaved mother; <i>you</i> are not just +emerging from a condition consequent upon disturbance of the physical +economy which has reacted upon the mental; <i>you</i> are not inclined to +mysticism, to see visions, to find pictures in goblets of water or in +grate fires; in short, while you have your own idiosyncrasies, they are +not of a character to render you liable to this sort of transport. But +there are organizations which, though seduced by mystic lore, can hardly +contemplate such matters without injury. The compiler of this book, the +men he quotes, the ecstatics in general—revivalists, hermits, nuns and +monks in all ages—do you believe that as a class they were well +balanced? Peering into heaven is a dangerous business."</p> + +<p>"The men you have quoted seem to have peered into hell."</p> + +<p>"That is the Puritan mode of ecstatic enjoyment. Our Catholic—I beg +your pardon, our Roman Catholic—enthusiasts, being more artistic, and +lovers of the beautiful, prefer contemplation of heaven. Unlike the +smug Puritan, they do not spare their bodies. They fast and flog, wear +hair shirts, roll in ashes and wash seldom, but their eyes are turned +upward; they urge the spirit to rejoice. Your fat and well-fed Calvinist +prefers a gloom irradiated by the flames of hell, in which he can behold +the writhing victims of God's vanity——"</p> + +<p>"Doctor, you are as bitter as all your brethren; you unbeliever——"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I'm more of an unbeliever than you are. I'm sure if +the Reverend Eliphalet has not by this time modified his opinions, he +has no expectation of meeting you in heaven. Hear him as he warns +humanity against the devices of Satan: 'Of which,' he says, 'the traces +are visible even in the church. In these days there hath arisen a +delusive hope as to infants. Some hold, and a few dare to assert, though +with bated breath, that all infants die in the grace of God. Who saith +this? Not God, who, by His Eternal Decree, hath declared that none but +His Elect are saved. Not our Confession of Faith, formulated at +Westminster in earnest prayer and reverence for the Word. Not the +framers of that Confession, of whom I may mention Twisse, as having +specially wrote against this new-born folly, extorted by the cunning of +the Enemy of Souls by means of the bleatings of foolish mothers—search +the Scripture, reader! Nowhere shalt thou find any saved but His +Elect.'"</p> + +<p>"Abominable!" ejaculated the lady.</p> + +<p>"Poetical. 'Bleatings of foolish mothers' is quite so. And now our good +man actually drops into the poetry of the Reverend Michael Wigglesworth, +whose 'Day of Doom' he quotes at length. I will not inflict the whole +fifteen stanzas upon you; but listen to a morsel or two. This is the +Argument: The Still-born appear at the Seat of Mercy, and put in a plea +for grace that might have weight in Senegambia, but which has none in +the heaven of Eliphalet and of Hampton:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Then to the bar they all drew near who died in Infancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never had, or good or bad, effected personally,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from the womb unto the tomb were straightway carried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Or at the least, ere they transgressed), who thus began to plead.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Their plea is that since Adam, the actual delinquent, has been 'set +free, and saved from his trespass,' they are on better grounds entitled +to consideration. To the finite intelligence there would seem to be some +force in the infantile argument. What says Omnipotence?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I may deny you once to try, or grace to you to tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he finds Grace before my face who was the chief offender.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You sinners are, and such a share as sinners may expect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such you shall have, for I do save none but mine own elect;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to compare your sin with their who sinned a longer time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do confess yours is much less, though every sin's a crime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crime it is, therefore in bliss you may not hope to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But unto you I shall allow THE EASIEST ROOM IN HELL.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The doctor closed the book. "I submit that I have proved my contention," +he said. "Do you doubt now that Mrs. Leonard was affected by her +browsings among Leonard's books? The men who wrote the matter of which +this volume is made up were largely the founders of Hampton, men whose +names she has heard venerated as almost inspired of God."</p> + +<p>"Even so, how could she believe such absurdities?"</p> + +<p>"I do not assert that she believed. Belief in the impossible is +impossible. But have you never been deeply impressed by fiction; never +been scared by a ghost story? Have you shed tears over the sorrows of +Colonel Newcome? The few quotations you have heard cause you to shrink, +though you are well aware they are but foolish words. But if you could +<i>see</i> the scenes herein depicted, I do not think you could bear the +prospect. I am sure <i>I</i> should howl as lustily as any hellish monster +here referred to. Well, Mrs. Leonard being so constituted, has actually +<i>seen</i> these horrors, and, in the central figure, has contemplated the +writhings of her child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Doctor!" she spoke in a subdued tone, her eyes expressing more than +her words.</p> + +<p>"Even you, here in this well-lighted and cheerful room, with me, a very +material and matter-of-fact person, beside you, even you can feel a +faint reflection of the terrors in which this woman spent the day. +Alone, without food, a deserted room, a gloomy house, but lately +cheerful with the prattle of a childish voice, forever silent, but of +which the echoes still linger in the mother's ears—here's enough and +more than enough to disturb an exalted temperament, a morbid +imagination. Add this"—the doctor shook the book in his hand—"and what +need of belief, if by belief you mean the result of a reasoning process? +The ideas suggested <i>here took possession of her</i>! Belief! Pshaw! nobody +believes in this stuff; but Hampton says it believes."</p> + +<p>"But that's monstrous!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more common than loud assertions of belief where is no belief. +That's politics, partisanship."</p> + +<p>"But this is religion——"</p> + +<p>"So-called."</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"The Westminster Confession is a written document. The men who composed +it knew what they wished to say, and said it so clearly that nobody can +misapprehend their meaning. Your own creed of compromises—pardon me, +compromise is always the resort of politicians who understand their +business—was wiser, or luckier; its Articles are all loopholes in +regard to this doctrine of Election——"</p> + +<p>"Doctor, your ignorance of my church is so palpable that I decline to +take your word concerning Hampton and the Confession of Faith. I've +never read it——"</p> + +<p>"Even its adherents are not so rash. It becomes a serious matter as to +one's self-respect to maintain a monstrous absurdity, after one knows +it. Nevertheless, the Westminster Confession teaches as truth all that +the Reverend Eliphalet says, or that Michael Wigglesworth grotesquely +sings. Moreover, it is annually published under the title of 'The +Constitution and Standards of the Presbyterian Church in the United +States of America'—a solemn declaration that God, before the creation +of man, damned the great majority to everlasting agony so excruciating +as to be beyond conception, and all for His own glory and pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Yet I know, and you ought to know, that Christianity offers salvation +to every soul through the medium of its Founder."</p> + +<p>"Denied <i>in toto</i> by Westminster. According to the Confession, not even +Jesus Christ could diminish the number of the damned, fixed before the +creation of a single soul. If Mrs. Leonard's baby was born to be damned, +damned he is."</p> + +<p>"Now I know you are asserting what is not so. I have heard infant +damnation denied by Hampton professors."</p> + +<p>"And may again. I do not claim that a single human being believes the +Westminster Confession; but I do maintain that he who acknowledges that +Confession as his standard, and retains membership in that church, which +annually promulgates the same as truth, either believes an outrageous +absurdity, or says he believes it. If he is not willing to do this, he +has no right in the organization; why, only the other day Dr. Willis was +requested to get out because he declined to say he believed that which +he does not believe."</p> + +<p>"Doctor, I am sorry to say it, but your statements are not credible——"</p> + +<p>"Don't apologize. Of course they are not; but they are true. I certainly +don't blame you for doubting my word. But you shall ask Hodge; I'll lend +you his commentary. Hodge hopes as to infants, but is honest enough to +admit that in the Confession there is no ground for hope. He damns all +heathen incontinently, which includes all the babies I ever knew, though +he may have known babies that were not heathen. And, after all, why this +solicitude for babies? Why is it less monstrous to condemn to eternal +torture a being six feet long than one of three? Why, on the last +occasion I was in a church I heard these words: 'The sentiment which +sorrows over what God reveals as His will is simply maudlin. When the +Christian finds out who are in the regions of despair he will neither be +affected by their number nor by the duration of their punishment.' +That's not much better than 'bleating mothers.' And in the +meanwhile"—he concluded a tirade so rapidly uttered that his auditor +had had no opportunity to interrupt—"they are quarreling about Socrates +and tobacco, crusading against my bottle of claret, and sending +missionaries to Japan." Who "they" were he had no opportunity to +designate, for at this moment a messenger from the nurse announced that +the patient was awake.</p> + +<p>When the doctor and the lady entered the room, Natalie looked at them, +but betrayed no surprise. Mrs. Joe was startled by the expression of her +face, which was peaceful, even happy. "Heaven is beautiful," she said, +without other preface. "Birds and flowers and little children. Oh! the +happy little children and Lenny among them; all so happy, so rosy! Ah, I +am glad!" And even as she sighed her gladness she sank into slumber. The +doctor watched her anxiously for many minutes; then he signed to Mrs. +Joe to follow, and they softly left the room.</p> + +<p>"Is it death?" asked the lady, who had been frightened by his anxious +face.</p> + +<p>"Such visions often mean death; there's nothing certain yet, but every +hope. Go to bed, Mrs. Claghorn; I shall remain here."</p> + +<p>But though the lady declined to go to bed, the discussion was not +resumed.</p> + +<p>About four in the morning he went alone to the room, and soon returned +with a smiling face. "She is sleeping naturally," he said. "A few hours +since I feared for her reason; now I have great hope. I shall return at +eight o'clock. Let nobody go near her. Burn that thing; she must never +see it again." He pointed to the "Call to the Careless," and left the +house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>STARTLING EFFECT OF "DR. BURLEY'S TRUE MEANING."</h3> + + +<p>Leonard remained in New York, ignorant of the events which had +transpired at Stormpoint, concerning which, however, he was soon +informed by a letter written by Mrs. Joe, a letter which conveyed the +intelligence that his wife had fainted in the cemetery "as a consequence +of over-exertion," that Dr. Stanley wished the intended visit to Newport +to be made as soon as possible, that there was no need of his presence +in Easthampton, and that if he were to come there he would probably find +his wife already departed. All of which, though dictated by the +physician, had been written with misgiving, as conveying an insufficient +statement of the facts. But the doctor had been peremptory. "Keep them +apart," he had said. "The only subject on which Leonard can expatiate +just now is damnation, and of that the wife has had more than enough."</p> + +<p>Leonard evinced no desire to follow the Newport party. Misled by the +communication from the lady of Stormpoint, and yet more influenced by +reluctance to enter the household of Mrs. Leon, of which household he +assumed Berthe Lenoir to be still an inmate, he was willing to enjoy a +holiday which he thought he had fairly earned. Mrs. Joe, though +surprised by his acquiescence, was relieved. She was still more +surprised when her keen vision detected that Natalie was equally +relieved. "It seemed," she observed to the doctor, "to lighten her +heart."</p> + +<p>"Instinct," he replied, and made no further comment; but though +ordinarily very discreet as to professional matters, he mentioned the +circumstance to his wife, at the same time advancing a theory which +startled that lady.</p> + +<p>Freed from anxiety concerning Natalie, whose letters, though very short, +reported continuing improvement in the matter of health, Leonard +resolved, for the present at least, to forget the ingratitude of +Hampton, and to enjoy to the fullest his bachelor outing. He recalled +his strolls on Parisian Boulevards, and in fancy lived in past delights, +promenading Broadway with the old Parisian strut, though modified, and +not oblivious of the fact that here, as in Paris, were handsome eyes, +not unwilling to return the glance of one who had been likened to a +Greek god.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, indeed often, he lamented that his lot had not been cast in +the great world. His instincts truthfully told him that, as a man of +action, he would have presented no mean figure; there were even moments +when he wished, though he knew the futility of such a wish, that he +might never see Hampton or hear of theology again. This he knew well +enough was but the natural reaction from the strain of his recent +labors, but he toyed with the thought, half playfully, half regretfully, +as indicating one of the things that might have been. If there were any +conscience-pricks they were too feeble to be felt; he had ceased to be a +boy (so he said to himself); the boy, for instance, he had been when, on +the Heidelberg terrace, he had yearned over the erring soul of his +cousin. The religious sentiment which once had glowed so ardently in his +bosom was burned out, consumed in the heat of partisan theology; but +though he knew this, he did not know the meaning of the fact. To him it +meant that his salvation was assured, and with that conviction the great +concern of life had passed into the peace which passeth understanding.</p> + +<p>Just now, however, he was not giving much attention to his personal +religious attitude, as he moved among the city's throngs well-clad, rosy +and with the form and grace of an athlete and the eager eyes of +innocence and unconscious desire. In the delight of the holiday, a +delight which sometimes rose to a surprising fervor, he thought of +certain Parisian peccadillos, and more than once half resolved to renew +his acquaintance with the ballet and <i>belles jambes</i>, like unto those of +Mademoiselle Coralie, which gamboled ravishingly in the haze of memory; +but he rejected the imprudent suggestion; he might be recognized, and +Brigston would rejoice in unholy glee, if its most potent adversary—he +wondered if this fact were known to the passers-by—were discovered in a +temple of dubious recreation. Such recollections brought Paris very +vividly before his eyes, and for some reason also the memory of Berthe +and of that rapturous kiss; and perhaps at such times the handsome face +assumed the look of which Mrs. Joe had disapproved.</p> + +<p>The remembrance of Berthe recalled Natalie, who, as he believed, was in +the house with her former maid, and Natalie's beauty, and he was filled +with tenderness, and his soul yearned with a great longing, and had it +not been that Berthe was there he would have fled to Newport. He +recognized now a fact of which he had, in a vague way, been long +conscious, the fact that ever since the birth of the boy he and his wife +had grown somewhat apart. She had been engrossed with the child, and he +with his theological war. He regretted it, and resolved that it must not +be so in the future. Loving one another as they did, it would be easy to +grow together again. He would tell her how grievously he had been +treated by Hampton, in its envy; and on the beautiful bosom that he +loved and that was his own, would pour out his griefs and find sweetest +solace. If she would only curtail her visit!</p> + +<p>One day there came a letter from his wife which he opened in the eager +hope that it would announce the termination of her stay in Newport. He +was disappointed in this, and was further rendered uneasy by the tone of +constraint in which it was written, or which he imagined; for if there +were constraint, it was hard to point out just where it lay; yet he +felt, if he could not see, that the pen of the writer had been heavy in +her hand. But he was more than uneasy; he felt resentment rising within +him as he read the postscript, which was as follows: "Do you believe +that there is an eternal hell and that many are condemned? Will you +answer this as briefly as possible?"</p> + +<p>He studied the written words with growing annoyance. The curtness of the +question seemed to indicate that to the questioner the matter was of +minor import—trivial, in fact; if she really thought thus, then all his +recent labors had been labor in vain. Nothing had so angered him as +suggestions of this character, frequently made by a godless secular +press. One journal had, with pretended gravity, argued that since all +heathen and their progeny must be damned, extermination was more +merciful than the hopeless attempt at conversion, and at least as +practicable; another had flippantly suggested that Professor Claghorn be +required to demonstrate the utility of theological seminaries, since no +product of those institutions could, by any possibility, be instrumental +in saving a single soul—and so on. All of which he had borne with a +fair show of equanimity, but he had smarted; and now Natalie's question +seemed, at first sight, an echo of the unworthy journalistic jibes. +There might be various opinions concerning hell; it was conceivable that +the great majority preferred an attitude of incredulity as to its +inevitable destination; but, at least, it was a serious subject.</p> + +<p>But later readings of the letter seemed to indicate that it had been +written with a heavy heart. There was affection in it, but a tone of +gloom as well, which, though Natalie admitted that her health was +completely restored, was too apparent to permit the supposition of a +trifling postcript. The inference, then, must be that she had arrived at +a not uncommon stage of religious agitation, often preliminary to +conversion, a stage which he knew to be frequently of intense suffering +to the neophyte, though satisfactory to pious observers, who were +inclined to see in the lowest depths of misery the sure precursor of the +highest joy. He had, himself, at an unusually early age, passed through +a similar experience, and though that period of anguish was so far +behind him that he could not recall its terrors, he knew that they had +been very dreadful, and that his parents, to whom he had been as the +apple of their eye, had been correspondingly complacent. There was, in +these days, less of the agonized form of religious experience, but he +could easily understand that it might happen to Natalie, who, in +religion, was still but a babe.</p> + +<p>The only way to deal with the matter was the way in which it had been +treated in his own case. There must be no slurring of the truth. He +would disdain that course in private as much as he had disdained it in +public. Hampton might shrink from disclosure of eternal verity; he would +not.</p> + +<p>Wherefore, he sent to Natalie his pamphlet, entitled, "Dr. Burley's True +Meaning," not sorry that she should see how clearly and uncompromisingly +he could state matters which others had been willing to obscure. The +true meaning of the Confession, and, therefore, of the Bible, and, +therefore, of the learned biblical scholar whose text Leonard +illuminated, was that the majority of mankind was on the way to a hell, +eternal, and of torture inconceivable.</p> + +<p>The pamphlet was relentless, as was proper; but in his accompanying +letter to his wife Leonard was very tender. He showed her that there was +but one course to pursue in the face of indisputable truth, and that was +resignation to the will of heaven. Weak humanity might grieve over God's +will; such sorrow was certainly pardonable by man, but was nevertheless +rebellion; and, before complete reconciliation to God could be assumed, +must be dismissed from the heart. Leaving religion, he proceeded to tell +his wife that his longing for her was growing absolutely insupportable, +and he was much more fervid in his petition that she hasten her return +home than he had been in his doctrinal expositions. He dispatched his +letter, and returned to his former avocations, but with little spirit; +he longed for Natalie, and had no room for other than the thoughts that +accompanied his longing. In a few days he was able to start for home, +Natalie having, in a very short letter, in which she made no comment on +the one he had last written, announced her arrival in Hampton by a train +due there a few minutes later than the one from New York by which he +traveled, and when he finally alighted at the station, he was tremulous +with anticipation, and his disappointment was proportionate when the +Newport train arrived with none of the expected travelers.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to do but to bear a revulsion of feeling, which was +actually painful. He walked across the Square to his home, and found the +maids with everything prepared for his arrival, and with a letter from +Natalie which informed him that she would be in Hampton on the +following morning.</p> + +<p>He went early to bed, discontented and fretful. He slept badly, and in +the night got up and wandered restlessly about, and in his wanderings +made a discovery which might have remained unnoticed had the fancies +which vexed his repose been of a different character.</p> + +<p>After the birth of her child, Natalie had occupied a room separate from +her husband's, in order that the latter, whose literary labors were +exacting, should not be disturbed. In his prowling Leonard discovered +evidences that this arrangement was to be continued, and as he stood in +the gaslight considering the tokens whereby he inferred that one room +was reserved for masculine, the other for feminine occupancy, he +mentally pronounced the arrangement unsatisfactory, and experienced a +feeling of vexation amounting to resentment.</p> + +<p>But resentment gave way when, next morning, having seen Mrs. Joe and +Paula drive away to Stormpoint, and having followed Natalie to the room +which he had inspected the night before with dissatisfaction, he once +more held her in his arms. The light that gleamed from her eyes, the +roseate hue upon her feverish cheeks, the rich red lips upon which he +pressed his own hungrily—the beautiful reality, fairer than the fairest +vision of his hours of longing, banished every thought but one.</p> + +<p>He held her long in a close embrace. He was very happy, and when she had +withdrawn from his arms he sat upon the edge of the bed telling her of +his disappointment of the day before, and of his nocturnal prowlings, +and laughingly advancing his objections to the sleeping arrangements she +had ordered. Meanwhile, she said but little, being engaged in searching +for something in her trunk. At length she found whatever she had been +seeking. "Leonard," she said, "go down to the library. I must speak to +you, but not here."</p> + +<p>The manner and the tone puzzled him—then he remembered. He sighed +involuntarily. It was an inopportune moment to discuss conversion—but +since she was in its throes——He went downstairs; his face betrayed +vexation.</p> + +<p>Soon she entered the room where he awaited her, seated in a big chair. +She knelt before him, taking his hand in hers. "Leonard," she said, "I +am sorry you don't like the arrangement of the bedrooms."</p> + +<p>Her solemnity had led him to expect something of greater importance than +this, which was, however, decidedly a more welcome topic. "You know, +dearest," he said, with a quizzical look, "as husband and wife——"</p> + +<p>"Leonard! Leonard! We dare not be husband and wife."</p> + +<p>He stared at her in amazement. "What do you mean?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I mean this," she answered, producing "Dr. Burley's True Meaning." "Oh, +Leonard! How could the same man write that book and be a father?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>HE CLASPED HER LITHE BODY WITH A CLUTCH OF FURY.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Joe had not obeyed Dr. Stanley's injunction, to burn the "Call to +the Careless," but had studied that delectable composition sufficiently +to compel her to exonerate the doctor from her suspicion, that he had +invented much of the matter, which he had, in fact, read from the text +before him.</p> + +<p>Her researches had not been without an object. It is, perhaps, +unnecessary to point out that this lady's conscience was sufficiently +elastic for ordinary purposes, even for ordinary political purposes, and +it might have with stood the assaults made upon it by her investigation, +had she been of the usual sex of politicians. She could go far in the +interests of her son, but long ago she had borne another child, whose +smile as it faded in death had ever been, at odd moments, before her, +and constantly before her during her wanderings in fields theological, +and she had but recently seen a woman crazed by contemplation of her +baby in hell. When she had learned, by means of her studies, that a +great ecclesiastical body still dooms the vast majority of those born of +woman to everlasting woe, it came upon her like a blow in the face that, +in order to see her son in the legislature, she had aided in +promulgating the diabolical creed which, in the face of nineteen +centuries of Christianity, is still waved aloft as the Standard of a +Christian Church.</p> + +<p>Upon the first shock of this knowledge she followed the inevitable +course of the conscience-stricken, and proceeded to argue with the +inward monitor. "Nobody believes that now," she insisted; "the actual +belief has been modified to accord with common sense. No Christian can +admit that God is a demon, and no Christian can teach impossible +falsehood." In answer to which, Conscience pointed to the title-page, +which proclaimed the Confession to be the "Standard of the Presbyterian +Church in the United States of America.'" She resolved to seek +enlightenment at the acknowledged head of human wisdom in Hampton, and +called for the purpose on the great Dr. Burley himself. Him she +encountered as he was emerging from his front door. "Does Hampton +actually uphold the Westminster Confession?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear madam, so does Brigston."</p> + +<p>"I'm not interested in Brigston. I am in Hampton."</p> + +<p>"And we are all glad that it is so. But, I see—I've always been afraid +of it; you are going to try and get us all over to St. Perpetua, ha! +ha!"</p> + +<p>"And does Hampton really believe——?"</p> + +<p>"Only what is true. I must be off to my lecture now; we must have it out +some other time. How's the Bishop? Fine fellow; wish we had him. +Good-bye; Mrs. Burley will be <i>delighted to</i> see you," and the doctor +waved the lady into the house and made his escape.</p> + +<p>Having no desire to call upon Mrs. Burley, the lady of Stormpoint +remained in the vestibule only long enough for the gentleman to get +away; she then descended the steps and was about to enter her carriage, +when she was accosted by Dr. Stanley, who, after the usual salutations, +asked her if she had seen Leonard recently.</p> + +<p>"I am about to call on him now—on unpleasant business."</p> + +<p>"That's a pity. You'll wish you had stayed at home. I have just left +him; he's as cross as three sticks, which I suppose are crosser than the +proverbial two."</p> + +<p>"I suppose because the newspapers are still nagging him."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; yet if you could manage a confidential talk with Mrs. Leonard, +it might be a good thing."</p> + +<p>"Ah! You've noticed that there's domestic trouble? I have suspected it. +Why was he willing to stay away from Newport? Why was his wife reluctant +to come home?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you can find out. Doctors can't ask indiscreet questions more +than other people."</p> + +<p>"And you think I can, or will?" In answer to which the physician merely +shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>The lady drove away, her distaste for the task before her not diminished +by the encounter. She was quite sure that the physician would not have +made the allusions, which had fallen from him, unless he believed that +the domestic status in the Morley mansion was of grave significance. +Which, in fact, it was; a dark shadow loomed, ever larger, in the old +house.</p> + +<p>Leonard was very unhappy. Natalie's ignorance, in respect to his +longings, her utter absence of sympathy; these formed the side of the +shadow visible to him. He was irritable, at times harsh; but more deadly +in its possible results was a sullen resentment, so deep that its +ferocity and strength were unsuspected by himself. He was gazing moodily +out of the library window when Mrs. Joe's equipage stopped at the door, +and in another moment the lady was ushered in.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked shortly. His manner was divested of its usual +graces. He looked moodily at the floor.</p> + +<p>"Only a matter of business. Leonard, have you informed the Hampton +people of the gift of which I spoke to you?"</p> + +<p>"It has been mentioned."</p> + +<p>"Leonard, I ought not to give it."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean you have met with serious losses?" he exclaimed, +impressed by her manner.</p> + +<p>"No, no! But my views have changed; that is, I have made discoveries. +Will it annoy you, personally, if the gift is not made?"</p> + +<p>"I shall regret it; but nobody will blame me, if that's what you mean."</p> + +<p>She was relieved. Still, it was painful to withhold a promised gift, +especially painful to deprive him just now of the credit of being her +almoner. "I wish you to take this," she said, handing him a cheque. "Let +it go to the poor of the town, the hospital, the blind asylum——"</p> + +<p>He took the slip of paper she held out to him. He was startled by the +amount. "Mrs. Joe——" he commenced.</p> + +<p>"We can arrange as to details," she interrupted. "Oblige me by taking it +now."</p> + +<p>He saw that she was somewhat agitated, and knew that she feared that the +withdrawal of the gift to the Seminary might have wounded him. This was +her way of curing such wounds. It would be ungracious to refuse the +cheque, yet even as he looked at it, a strange foreboding was upon him.</p> + +<p>He sat down saying he would prefer to give her a receipt as trustee. "As +you say, we must arrange as to details. Meanwhile, I suggest a portion +of the sum for the Missionary Fund——"</p> + +<p>"Not one penny of it," she answered with energy.</p> + +<p>"Do you object to the conversion of the heathen?" he asked surprised.</p> + +<p>"I do," was her emphatic answer. "Leave them alone. I suppose there are +among them some that look with hope beyond the grave. I will not be an +instrument to destroy that hope."</p> + +<p>He jumped at once to the conclusion that she had been reading some of +the frothy and ill-considered articles of the secular press in regard to +the Hampton-Brigston controversy, and again the suspicion arose in his +mind that Natalie was influenced by the wretched diatribes of the +newspapers.</p> + +<p>"I should fail in my duty as a Christian, Mrs. Joe," he said coldly, "if +I made no effort to disabuse your mind of prejudice. Your capacity to +aid a noble cause is so great——"</p> + +<p>"God knows," she interrupted earnestly, "I desire to use that capacity +for good. I have done grievous harm hitherto."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"Leonard, look at this. It is a fair statement. I know it because I have +tested every line of it in the Seminary Library. Can I give money to +bring tidings of their eternal damnation to the heathen? They are +happier without such knowledge."</p> + +<p>He took from her hand a cutting from a newspaper. It was an attack on +his theology: "As a mitigation of the misery which flows from the +Westminster Confession," wrote the journalist, "probation after death +has been suggested by weaklings. We know how that suggestion has been +received. In June, 1893, the General Assembly of the Church convicted +Dr. Briggs, its author, of heresy, and stigmatized sanctification after +death as 'in direct conflict with the plain teachings of the Divine +Word, and the utterances of the Standards of our Church'; a deliverance +which consigns to hell myriads of Jews, Mohammedans and honest doubters +of Christendom—all to be added to the number of heathen in hell. +Concerning these last, various computations have been made by +theologians of a mathematical turn; the American Board estimates that +five hundred millions go to hell every thirty years, or as Dr. Skinner +has it, thirty-seven thousand millions since the Christian era. Dr. +Hodge states that none escape. The last-named learned commentator on the +Confession of Faith is even hopeless as to Christian infants, concerning +whom he says, 'It is certainly revealed that none, either adult or +infant, are saved, except by special election,' and that it is not +'positively revealed that all infants are elect.'"</p> + +<p>The article proceeded to argue that, if all this were true (which the +writer denied), to impart the knowledge to the heathen would be cruel, +and that if it were not true, so much the less should lives and money be +spent in the dissemination of false views of God's mercy and justice.</p> + +<p>"Beyond the fact that the writer is thoroughly illogical, slipshod and +evidently malicious, there is no fault to be found with his statements," +observed Leonard, as he returned the cutting to the lady.</p> + +<p>"Leonard, my conscience will not permit me to disseminate a faith which +knows no mercy."</p> + +<p>He respected Mrs. Joe; he could even sympathize with her views, though, +regarding her as a child in doctrine, he did not think it worth while to +attempt to explain to her the enlightening and consolatory effect of the +"high mysteries," which are to be handled "with especial care." "Let the +matter rest awhile," he said. "I will arrange as to the hospital and for +a donation to the blind asylum. We can agree as to the distribution of +the rest of the fund later. You will not always be so hard on Hampton. +Theology is not learned in a day, Mrs. Joe, and, you will excuse me for +saying it, you have not given as much thought to the matter as some +others."</p> + +<p>"I am not foolish enough to pretend to a knowledge of theology. That +would be as absurd as the exhibition presented by men who pass years in +striving to reconcile eternal damnation and common justice." Having +fired this shot, the lady took her departure.</p> + +<p>The door had scarce closed upon her when Leonard called Natalie. An +impression, revived by his visitor and her newspaper cutting, that his +wife's attitude had its inspiration in the empty criticisms of the +press, had aroused his anger. He resolved that the present mode of +living should terminate. He had rights, God-given, as well as by the +laws of men; he would enforce them if he must.</p> + +<p>In their intercourse recently, Leonard had refrained from harshness, but +he had been unable to conceal a resentment, hourly growing in strength; +his manner had been hard and sullen. Without exhibiting actual +discourtesy he had shown plainly enough that he preferred to be alone, +and, except when it was inevitable, husband and wife had hardly met or +spoken together for days.</p> + +<p>Hence, when Natalie heard him call, a flush, born partly of +apprehension, partly of hope, suffused her cheek. She came toward him, +smiling and rosy, a vision of radiant loveliness. The pleading +tenderness of her eyes was answered by the wolfish gleam of a gaze that +arrested her steps. He seized her in his arms, clasping the lithe body +in a clutch of fury, kissing her red lips and clinging to their +sweetness with a ferocity that terrified her. In this shameful embrace +they wrestled a moment until the man's violence enfeebled himself. She +broke from him, standing before him an image of outraged modesty, +panting, indignant and bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Leonard!"</p> + +<p>He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His own +self-respect was shocked. He was humiliated, and his shame increased his +resentment.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder, and +noting that he shuddered at the touch.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he repeated. For a moment a fury to strike her possessed +him. By an effort he calmed himself.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," he said, in a slow, measured tone, "do you regard me as your +husband?"</p> + +<p>"You know I do, Leonard."</p> + +<p>He sighed despairingly. How was he to bring a knowledge of facts to +this woman incapable of comprehending them, or what they signified for +him?</p> + +<p>"Natalie," he said, and now he took her hand in his, noting its cool +freshness again his own hot palm. "We cannot live thus; we are married. +We must be husband and wife."</p> + +<p>"You dare not create victims of hell," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Natalie, you would impiously abrogate God's holy ordinance. Marriage is +enjoined by Scripture. Sin of the most heinous character is born of +neglect of this ordinance of God."</p> + +<p>"Leonard, Leonard," she cried, "you can have no assurance that your +children will be saved. Only the elect."</p> + +<p>"All, dying in infancy are elect," he answered impatiently. "That is the +universal belief of to-day."</p> + +<p>She grew very white as she looked at him; her eyes were big with horror. +"Do you mean," she asked hoarsely, "that we should murder our babies?"</p> + +<p>"Murder!" he exclaimed, amazed.</p> + +<p>"Since only infants are certainly saved——"</p> + +<p>He burst into a discordant laugh. "Natalie," he said, "as a reasoner you +would do credit to Brigston."</p> + +<p>"I can see no other way," she said after a pause. "My reasoning may be +defective, but you do not show me its defects. Surely you believe the +Confession and the catechisms?"</p> + +<p>"Every line of either," he answered defiantly and in anger. Had he not +labored night and day for a year past to demonstrate the truth of the +"Standards"?</p> + +<p>"Then," she answered sadly, "you have no right to become a father. +Fathers and mothers are instruments of the devil. According to your +belief, no sin can compare with the sin of bringing forth a creature so +offensive to God that it must suffer eternal punishment. You may believe +that you and I are both to dwell together in hell. If that be our fate +we must submit. But our children, Leonard! Shall we earn their hatred in +life, and watch their torments in unquenchable fires?"</p> + +<p>"Do you compare yourself and me, and children born of us, to the +depraved mass of humanity? Have you no assurance of God's gracious +mercy?"</p> + +<p>"God's gracious mercy!" she repeated. "God's gracious mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Natalie," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly. "You who but +a short time since had no religion, surely you will concede that I know +something of that which has been the study of my life. I tell you that +your reasoning is frantic nonsense; it would be blasphemous if it were +not for your ignorance."</p> + +<p>"You believe the Confession true—every line. I have studied it; I have +studied your book. Prior to that I had spent a whole day, in this very +room, reading——"</p> + +<p>He laughed, but as before there was no mirth in the laugh. "A whole +day," he said, "and this profound research enables you to contend with +me in a science that I have studied all my life."</p> + +<p>"On that day," she answered, shuddering, "the fires of hell blazed +before my eyes and I heard the wails of damned souls. In a day much may +be learned. If what I then saw be true—I do not know—you say it is; +you say hell is——"</p> + +<p>"And say it again," he interrupted. "If I had never known it before, I +would know it now."</p> + +<p>"Then, Leonard, you must justify me. Since God cannot save the +innocent——"</p> + +<p>"He punishes the guilty only."</p> + +<p>"Having himself decreed their guilt! In the face of that decree there is +no human guilt. Even marriage, that most hideous of all crimes, does not +merit endless suffering——"</p> + +<p>"You insist that all are damned; you rave. Nobody asserts that all are +damned."</p> + +<p>"'He hath chosen some to eternal life and foreordained the rest to +dishonor and wrath.' Yet if there were but a single soul to suffer; if +but one solitary creature of all the millions of men were doomed to +dwell in hell forever—the knowledge that your child, Leonard, might be +that lonely one—surely such knowledge——"</p> + +<p>He ground his teeth. She drew texts from the source he had declared to +be the living truth. He had no answer; there was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Leave me," he whispered, in a tone that evidenced his fury better than +a roar of rage. Again he hid his face in his hands. She often turned to +look at him as she slowly withdrew, but he did not raise his head.</p> + +<p>He wrestled fiercely with his emotions and with the problem that fate +had raised. At times rage consumed his soul, and his thoughts rioted in +brutal instigation, which even then he feared, and of which he was +ashamed. At moments he hated, at moments he loved, but hating or loving, +the seductive charms of the woman swayed before his eyes, mocking him as +the mirage mocks the fainting pilgrim. Hours passed and he remained in +the same attitude, striving to estimate the situation correctly, so that +he could evolve a remedy. He could not deny her reasoning; he would not +give up his faith. His mind, rigid from the training to which it had +been subjected, was incapable of readily admitting new theories; and his +best nourished and most vigorous attribute was involved. Whether his +integrity could be bent or not, it was certain that his vanity would not +submit. No! He would not deny his faith. He would enforce his rights.</p> + +<p>But not without further effort at persuasion. He made a heroic and +worthy resolve. He would be patient still, meanwhile using every gentle +measure. He would enlist Mrs. Joe in his cause. She was a matron, shrewd +and too well balanced to allow religious notions to carry her to +fanatical extremes; and she did not hold his own views, apparently not +even as to eternal punishment. Perhaps she would convince Natalie that +there was no hell. It would be a lie, but better that his wife believe a +lie than that hell reign in his house and in his bosom.</p> + +<p>At the dinner hour the maid handed her mistress a note. It ran thus:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Natalie—I have decided to leave home for a little time. +I think we are better apart. If you will open your heart to +Mrs. Joe she will explain that which you and I cannot discuss. +I learn that you are in your own room, and think it better not +to disturb you. Good-bye, for a little time. It may be that I +shall not write.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Leonard.</span>"</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>A PÆAN OF VICTORY HYMNED IN HELL.</h3> + + +<p>On the day following that upon which Leonard and Natalie had last met in +Leonard's study, there were two women in a room of a shabby New York +house, evidently once a worthy residence, but now sadly fallen from that +estate.</p> + +<p>One of the two, half dressed, with a good deal of tarnished lace +decorating such clothing as she had on, sat on the bed in an easy +attitude, careless as to the display of a handsome person. Dark, +heavy-browed, her first youth past, her haggard face was redeemed by +deep, soft eyes, that now, however, from beneath their long lashes, +looked out upon the face of the other woman with suspicious wariness.</p> + +<p>This one, overfed, coarse, vile to look upon, with the face of a painted +gargoyle, red and mottled, garishly dressed in a loose gown, stood with +arms akimbo, her little eyes bent wickedly upon the woman on the bed.</p> + +<p>"Ten days' board," croaked the fat one. "Ten days."</p> + +<p>"Ten weeks, for all I care," was the reply.</p> + +<p>The fat creature wheezed and snorted; she half lifted her great red hand +as if to administer a blow.</p> + +<p>"Try it," said the other, "and I'll stick this into you," holding +threateningly the blade of a pair of scissors.</p> + +<p>The fat one recoiled; there was enough recklessness in the eyes of the +woman with the scissors to justify the movement. "Now, now, Frenchy," +she remonstrated, "you won't be a fool. Possy bate, eh?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Pas si bête</i>," laughed the other grimly. "Try it and see!"</p> + +<p>"You know," said the rubicund one, "this ain't white, Berthe. Whose +fault is it if you've no money?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Berthe. "You think me of your kind. I'm a lady; I was a +fool to come here."</p> + +<p>"Sure, you're a lady; and for that very reason ought to make a mint of +money. I'll tell you what's the matter with you, Berthe—you're a mule. +I swear," she exclaimed, suddenly conscious of wrong, "my boarders is +the bane of my life. Mules—but there, nobody'd believe what I've +borne."</p> + +<p>"<i>Malheureuse!</i>" sneered Berthe.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, missy, girls don't talk that way to me!" exclaimed the +red-gowned dame, perhaps suspecting unseemly profanity veiled in a +foreign tongue.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to talk any way to you. Get out," replied Berthe.</p> + +<p>"And the board bill?"</p> + +<p>"I've had nothing to eat for two days."</p> + +<p>"And won't have as long as you're a mule. If you have no money by this +time to-morrow, out you go, and without your trunk; so Frenchy," +concluded the woman, changing her tone to persuasion, "be reasonable. +You shall have dinner if you'll promise to go out afterward. Think it +over," and she waddled off.</p> + +<p>Berthe lay back upon the pillow, her long arms stretched above her head, +and thought it over.</p> + +<p>She had left Mrs. Leon long ago, and since then her steps had been +downward. For awhile a nursery governess, which, being amply capable, +she might have long remained had it not been for her eyes. She was not +altogether conscious of the capacity of her eyes, and was long innocent +of the knowledge of the strife and hatred they had wrought in the family +in which she served. Maltreated by an infuriated mistress, she had +avenged herself amply, living for months in luxury, and on the money and +caresses legally belonging to the other. But she had never cared for her +sinner, and he had been glad to creep back to that which he had +dishonored, not forgiven, but accepted as a hard necessity. Her luxuries +and her money were soon spent—as for the rest, it is a dark tale that +she recalls, lying there majestic, with her long arms above her black +head and her dark eyes brooding.</p> + +<p>The present was a problem. The move to this house was toward a deeper +degradation than any she had known, and she recoiled from its demands. +She knew its probable end, too. She was shrewd, dominant if she chose to +be; in short, no fool. She could rise to prosperity and become like the +gargoyle, but the prospect sickened her. All the inmates of the house +were to her abhorrent, but the gargoyle was a loathsome, soulless, +pitiless beast, only not a fool. The others were fools, and she knew, +feeling the sparks of humanity within her, that she must even be a fool +rather than a beast. And the end of the fool was misery, from which +there was but one escape.</p> + +<p>She was hungry. It was true that, except as to some slices of bread, +smuggled to her by soft-hearted ones, she had eaten nothing for two +days. She had long ago pawned her articles of jewelry. Her clothes were +in the clutch of the beast. She would have to apply to her for garments +for the street. She must surrender.</p> + +<p>So she asked for her clothes and her dinner. The beast was gracious, but +chary as to giving too many garments. The truth was, the beast hoped her +boarder would not return. She had the trunk—she was sick of the mule.</p> + +<p>Berthe wandered toward the lower part of the city. Plainly dressed, her +carriage dignified, she was not molested, nor did she cast her eyes upon +any passer-by. She walked straight on, yet not rapidly, for there was no +purpose in her walk. Useless to seek that man upon whose wife she had +avenged herself; he had been hurried off to do penance in the country; +even if he had returned, she knew nothing of his present abode.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leon was a dweller in hotels, and at this season, not in town. +Besides, Mrs. Leon could not be ignorant of what had been accomplished +by the nursery governess she had herself recommended.</p> + +<p>She wished now, for in truth, as she walked on, terror of possible +starvation began to haunt her, that she had carried out an often +neglected impulse to write to a man she knew, and who she believed could +help her. She would have done so before this, but the man's wife was a +friend of Mrs. Leon. This recollection had prevented her addressing him. +Yet she knew he would have helped her. He was young, he was kind. Ah! he +was adorable.</p> + +<p>So she walked on, thinking of that adorable man, forgetting her fear of +starvation. He had kissed her, or rather, and she smiled as she +corrected herself, she had kissed him. He had been helpless. The +innocent!</p> + +<p>By this time she was in Fourteenth Street. A man seeing the smile upon +her lips, stood in her path and addressed her. She moved aside and +walked on; the smile had been born of a memory sweet to her. The man +looked after her, astonished at the majestic ignoring of himself.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the woman stopped, as if struck. Then she started, walking +quickly, and entered a brilliantly lighted resort.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Leonard had passed a sleepless night in the train. In New York he went +to a hotel which he had never before frequented. He desired to be alone. +He had left home to think, not to seek acquaintance or distraction.</p> + +<p>And he thought, walking the streets of the great city until he was +footsore, and the more he thought, the less capable was he of reasoning, +the more weary he grew of thought; finally, striding onward in a dream +of incoherent fancies, that were not thoughts, but impotent efforts of a +tired brain. All day long there swayed before his eyes visions inspired +by objects seen but not noted and most incongruous. The passing glance +upon a billboard, gay with motley figures, gave birth to a picture of +living damsels, languishing in postures of inviting loveliness. He saw +no stony streets, no squalid scenes, but wandered in a Moslem heaven in +whose crystal streams Naiads bathed fair round limbs or sported in +wanton frolic in silvery cascades, anon decking with lilies the roseate +beauties of their queen. He took no heed of time or place, pacing street +after street, along the wharves, seeing neither ship nor dray; in the +Hebrew crowd of the East Side, noting nothing of the soft-eyed men with +dirty beards, nor the women wearing wigs of jute, nor the children +dancing in the streets to hand-organs, nor any of the sights of that +crowded foreign city, full of strange interest. Of the things before his +eyes he saw nothing; nor could he, being entranced by raptures which had +tried the souls of saints a thousand years ago!</p> + +<p>At ten o'clock at night, having eaten nothing since an early and +neglected breakfast, he stood in the street, conscious that he must eat +or faint. He entered a brilliantly lighted room where there were tables, +but which was nearly empty.</p> + +<p>Back of the room he saw another filled with people, decked with palms +and artificial grottoes. He entered and sat down at the first unoccupied +table.</p> + +<p>"Bring me a sandwich," he said to the waiter, "and a drink."</p> + +<p>The sandwich was brought and the drink. The latter Leonard supposed was +wine. He remembered that he had scruples against wine-drinking; had, in +fact, never tasted wine. He was too tired to care much for scruples, and +besides, he was faint, and even his scruples permitted wine in case of +illness. He swallowed the liquor, which was whiskey, at one gulp, and +commenced to eat ravenously.</p> + +<p>He ordered another sandwich and another drink, which was brought, this +time with a carafe of water in addition. He drank greedily of the water, +reserving his liquor, and, as ravenously as before, consumed his second +sandwich.</p> + +<p>Then he looked about him with more interest in his surroundings than he +had known during all that day. He felt comfortable, happy in fact. He +stretched out his legs and sipped his liquor, this time noting the +strength of the beverage, which made him cough and brought the tears to +his eyes, causing a woman to smile slyly. He smiled in return, then +looked quickly away, abashed at his own temerity in thus answering the +involuntary expression of a strange lady. This, as he looked about him, +he thought must be one of those German beer-gardens he had heard about, +but in this country had never seen. Evidently the people did not bring +their children. That was well. Beer-drinking was a bad example for +children. The women looked tired, he thought, though some were very +rosy, remarkably so, and all were tawdry. The men were not a +nice-looking set, though there were exceptions. Many were not much more +than boys, and these affected brilliant, if somewhat dirty, neckwear. +There were things about this place that offended him; principally, the +tone of the men. They lolled a good deal and smoked in the women's +faces; that was German, he supposed. The women, of whom a number were +alone, were better behaved. He noticed a waiter order one to leave the +place; that was singular, especially as she had slunk in very quietly +and had seemed very humble. Suddenly the great orchestrion commenced to +squeal and bang and clash, and soon the heads of the people were +strangely bobbing, keeping time; now the strains grew soft and +plaintive; a profound sadness crept over him as he listened to what +seemed the requiem of a dying soul. He felt the tears rising in his +eyes.</p> + +<p>For a long time he had been eagerly watched by a woman. Berthe could not +be sure if this were indeed the man she knew. What could he be doing +here? Half hidden behind a curtain which draped a huge column, she +watched the heaving breast of the man. Suddenly, she saw his head fall +forward, smashing a tumbler, and a cry of agony broke from him. +"Natalie, Natalie!"</p> + +<p>It might have been the last despairing wail of the soul doomed +thenceforward to darkness, whose requiem he had heard. To the obscene +observers and the superintendent of the place it was the cry of a +drunken man, who had no business there.</p> + +<p>There was no hubbub. The habitués of the place comprehended that nothing +of that sort was allowed. The man was quickly hustled into the front +room by the manager.</p> + +<p>"Get his hat," said this personage to a waiter. "Has he paid his bill?" +he questioned as the man brought the hat.</p> + +<p>"Yes, except the broken glass."</p> + +<p>"Damn the glass!" replied the manager, who desired to get rid of the +drunkard. "Come, young fellow, steady on your pins now and be off."</p> + +<p>A woman slipped her arm under Leonard's. "I will take care of him," she +said.</p> + +<p>The manager looked at the pair as they made their way toward the street. +"Do you know her?" he asked of an employee who had witnessed the +departure.</p> + +<p>"She's not a regular, sure."</p> + +<p>"Nor he. Well, it's not our affair," and the manager returned to his +duties.</p> + +<p>The two wandered off, the man's unsteady steps supported tenderly by the +woman. When the sun rose, his head rested on her bosom and her lips +hovered lovingly above his own, and the hum of the waking city, borne to +his ears, may, to him, have been the distant harmony of a pæan of +victory hymned in hell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>A DELECTABLE DISCUSSION, IN WHICH A SHAKSPERIAN MATRON IS ROUTED.</h3> + + +<p>Natalie Claghorn had always nourished a sentiment, which with many is a +conviction, with most a hope, that man is something more than the futile +hero of a sorry comedy—not made to live merely that he may die. Hence, +religion had been a need of her being, and, though unconsciously, she +had developed a creed of her own, vague, no doubt, from the positive +standpoint, but one which excluded those essential elements of the faith +of her husband, Hell and the Devil; grim inventions these which, while +imbibing wisdom at the paternal knee, she had learned were mere memories +of ancient Oriental mythologies. This view, in so far as she had given +the matter any thought, she had supposed the view commonly held, and +universally held among the cultured. Recently, indeed, there had been a +moment in which even with her bodily eyes she had, as she had then +believed, beheld the terrors and the torments of the damned; but as many +men and women, who believe not in ghosts, have nevertheless seen these +dwellers of the shades, and yet in less receptive phases of the mind +have been able to dismiss their visitants to the shadows from which they +were evoked, so Natalie had been able to discard belief in the reality +of her vision. Nevertheless, though incredulous, he who has seen a ghost +remains impressed, and the memory of her experience naturally recurred +with her theological studies, serving to emphasize the horrible, rather +than the absurd, aspect of her acquirements.</p> + +<p>Her desire to know had been honest, and she imputed honesty to others; +hence, when Leonard, with pen and voice, asseverated his belief in a +creed which must render paternity impossible to any being with a +conscience, she had been confounded by the attitude he presented. She +was not aware that between her husband and herself the sources of +sympathy had always been shallow, and she was quite as ignorant of +theological frenzy as she was of the knowledge of masculine passion. She +had loved him; and she had loved Mrs. Joe, Paula, the Marquise, her maid +Berthe; in fact, she had loved, and still loved, humanity, as far as she +knew it, and it was thus that she had loved her husband, though, +doubtless, in his case, this gentle flame had burned with more intensity +than in others.</p> + +<p>Though grieved that Leonard had left her without saying good-bye, yet +she felt that he had acted wisely, in that he had given her time to +think without the disturbing sense of his presence in his repellant +mood. And during this period an incident occurred which aided her in +finding the only solution of the problems which vexed her.</p> + +<p>It was not to be expected of the Hampton matrons that they continue +their tolerant attitude, with regard to Mrs. Leonard Claghorn. Her +continued languid health after the birth of her child, the subsequent +bereavement and absence, these had afforded an excuse for neglect; but +now there was solicitude, and in a certain circle of dames, which met +every fortnight to discuss Shakspere, but whereat other subjects, as +possessing more of novelty, were occasionally considered, some rather +severe strictures were made, in reference to Professor Claghorn's +apparent inability to convert his wife—he who had so audaciously, if +not successfully, coped with Brigston.</p> + +<p>"Brilliancy is less effective than earnestness," opined Mrs. Waring, +wife of Professor Waring, whose forte was Hebrew, and who was noted for +great erudition, a large family and a feeble intellect.</p> + +<p>"In the long run, no doubt," assented Mrs. Professor Flint. "But surely, +she is not really unconverted!"</p> + +<p>"She certainly hides her light. There are times—I hope I am not +uncharitable—when I wonder, suppose she were a Jesuit!"</p> + +<p>"Awful! She's French; her mother was noble—of the old nobility—and the +old nobility are all Jesuits."</p> + +<p>"And a Jesuit will stick at nothing in the way of deception. It's a +terrible possibility!"</p> + +<p>Natalie found apologists, notably Mrs. Tremaine, who maintained that +there were no female Jesuits, and who defended the absent, partly +because she was a spirited and generous woman, partly because, at this +particular period, she experienced an unusually distinct impression of +her own importance by reason of an acknowledged claim to the admiration +of the other Shaksperians. Even Mrs. Waring, the mother of ten, was +inclined to look with indulgence, if not with envy, upon this champion, +though she whispered to Mrs. Flint that "after a half dozen, Mary +Tremaine would change her note."</p> + +<p>However that may be, Mrs. Tremaine's note remained on this occasion +triumphant, and she glowed with victory, and also with good intentions; +for she resolved to warn Natalie that the gossips were preparing for a +feast, "and," said the lady to herself, "it must be stopped; never allow +a tiger a taste of blood," which mental exclamation clearly indicates +the exaltation of the lady's spirit.</p> + +<p>In this spirit, as soon as the Shaksperian séance was over, she started +for the Morley mansion, full of excellent intentions and the proud +possessor of a secret already known to the wives of all the professors +of the Seminary, except Natalie; and which, if confided to the latter, +would indicate that friendly feeling by which she was really actuated, +and thus pave the way to the warning she wished to give. She was also +impelled by the pardonable desire to further impart the information +already widely diffused; and which, in fact, could not remain much +longer a secret, unless the complacent lady decided on complete +seclusion for some months.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I suppose it will be noticeable soon. Professor +Tremaine is so proud; he actually struts. He hopes for a boy."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunate woman!" exclaimed Natalie. "How can you smile?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Claghorn, I forgot your own recent loss. Believe me, +time——"</p> + +<p>"But, have I understood? You hope for a baby—you a Christian wife?"</p> + +<p>"Why not I—a Christian wife, as you say?" was the answer of the +visitor, who was both shocked and puzzled by the expression of her +hostess.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," exclaimed Natalie hopelessly; then suddenly: "How +can you dare? Have you no compassion, no fear? You can smile, believing +that an awful calamity hangs over you!"</p> + +<p>"Awful calamity!" echoed the bewildered visitor, perhaps a little +alarmed by the speaker's energy.</p> + +<p>"Is it not? Have I understood aright? Are you going to have a baby?"</p> + +<p>"I have said so. Why the fact should affect you so strangely is a +mystery to me."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe this book?" and Natalie seized the well-known volume +with its blue cover.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, I believe the Confession."</p> + +<p>"And your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Does he not teach it?"</p> + +<p>"And believing that this book is true, knowing that the furnaces of hell +are choked with sinners—knowing this, you and your husband welcome the +birth of a human being! God help me, and you, Mrs. Tremaine, forgive me, +but I cannot understand these things. Why! you believe that your baby +may be damned!"</p> + +<p>"How dare you say such things? My child will not be damned. Ah! You poor +woman, I see. You have brooded over your own baby's death, and have been +dwelling on horrors. I have heard of such cases. Dear Mrs. Claghorn, +dismiss such dreadful folly from your mind. Babies are not damned; +nobody has believed that for years."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> do not fear for my child, nor for yours. But you—you cannot be +sure he will die. He may grow up—what then?"</p> + +<p>"Then he must take his chance," said the would-be mother, though her +face grew white. "We must all trust in God's grace."</p> + +<p>"But he lends His grace to his Elect only. Unless your infant was chosen +from before creation, he <i>must</i> be damned. You say this book is true, +and yet you dare to have a child who may burn in hell! How can you +commit such wickedness?" In her energy Natalie had arisen, and now stood +before the unhappy matron in what to her seemed a threatening attitude.</p> + +<p>"I—I—do not comprehend," she faltered. "You have no right to speak +thus to me."</p> + +<p>"No right! Have I not the right of humanity, the right of a +child-bearing woman?"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"I had some excuse, I did not know. But you knew—and yet you dared!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't," whimpered the lady. "It was the Professor—it was God's +work. You talk horribly."</p> + +<p>"God's work! And you lend yourself to God's work! You could have +died—anything, rather than be an instrument of wickedness in God's +hands!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tremaine breathed a great sigh of relief when she found herself +safely on the outside of the Morley mansion. She sat for awhile on a +bench in the Square, and when she had in part recovered her equanimity, +she went slowly homeward, pondering over the difficulties which present +themselves to those who try to do good in secret.</p> + +<p>Yet she had done good; for when Natalie beheld this matron in all the +pride and joy of approaching maternity, she saw in the spectacle a +living denial of the frightful dogma which, if believed, must have +turned the woman's triumph to despair. The orthodox lady served to +demonstrate the fact that the upholders of hell do not believe in hell; +for the conclusion to which Natalie had arrived was sound: The woman +that believes in hell dare not bear a child.</p> + +<p>Leonard's continuing absence afforded time for contemplation of this +discovery and its consequences; among others the gradual conviction +which subjected Leonard, with thousands of others, to the accusation of +maintaining palpable falsehood as the living truth. No other conclusion +was possible in the face of the fact that humanity can judge only by the +aid of human faculties, and that these must, perforce, pronounce eternal +punishment incompatible with justice, and preordination to everlasting +misery as impossible to a God of mercy. Her training made it difficult +for her to understand the palliation of the offense of those who +maintained the paradoxes which denied their actions. She was not aware +that the minds of such as Leonard had, from infancy, been receptacles +into which had been emptied all the follies bred from the meditations of +those who profess the mission of being interpreters of Omniscience; nor +could she fairly estimate the partisan rage which carried such men, +engaged in controversy, even beyond their convictions. She did, however, +gather some comprehension of these extenuating forces from the further +researches offered by Leonard's table, on which were strewn numerous +pamphlets referring to the late theological war. The tone of rancor +which pervaded the effusions of the religious antagonists was repellant, +but she was shrewd enough to see in so much sound and fury evidences of +weakness; and when she came to the theologian who lauded the "beautiful +faith" of that Christian father who demolished his pagan adversary with +the words, "I believe, <i>because</i> it is impossible," she closed the book, +and thenceforth avoided further contemplation of the high mysteries of +theology.</p> + +<p>She could not but condemn Leonard, though she would not dwell upon the +thought. To her, as to Dr. Stanley, belief in the impossible was +impossible, and, therefore, pretense of such belief dishonest; yet, +since these pretenders were not otherwise dishonest, there must be some +ground for their attitude, which to her must remain a mystery, but which +ought to cause her to hesitate in judging. So, she would not blame +Leonard; she perceived now, that her own conduct merited reproach. She +was ignorant of her own cruelty and her own absurdity, and would have +resented those terms as applied to her attitude; but she acknowledged +with sorrow that she had not been kind, and for her unkindness she +craved forgiveness.</p> + +<p>Very early one morning she started to walk to the cemetery, going by way +of the shore, and glorying in the grandeur of the ocean and the breeze +that came, health-laden, from its bosom. She stood and looked upon the +broad expanse of blue, recalling the day when Leonard had plunged into +the raging waters to rescue the boy. That effort had been in vain, as to +its intended object, but had it never been made she would not be walking +here a wife. She had loved him before, but not with a love that would +have urged her to grant him the boon of kisses; but, fresh from that +brave deed he was a hero, had taken the hero's meed from her lips, and +in that act had sealed the mastery which his courage had won. She gazed +long upon the waters, listening to the surge and noting the glint of the +sun, tinting with rose the billows rolling toward her. She sighed and, +pressing her lips together, turned her back upon the waves and hurried +on. It was as though she had resolved not to see some fair vision +suggested by the rose-tint in the feathery edging of the billows.</p> + +<p>When she entered the beautiful cemetery the birds were chirping in the +trees, only their joyous trills breaking the silence of the city of the +dead. She sat down beside the grave of her boy.</p> + +<p>And here, recalling her recent thoughts and her condemnation of others +who were dishonest in their attitude toward God, she saw the need of +honesty for herself in all things. If there were facts in her life which +she had been willing to ignore, she must look them in the face and deal +with them as best she might, being honest always. If, in marrying +Leonard, she had striven to escape the longing for a love denied her, +and in so doing had cheated her husband, she must admit her fault and +resolve to make every reparation in her power. If she had chosen to +believe that she had craved religion, and in her husband had seen its +embodiment, while in truth she had craved an earthly love, and had in +marriage weakly sought refuge from her shame, she must even admit her +fault and do what might be in her power to avert its consequences. Not +in the futile attempt to deny hearing to her conscience, to murder her +reason, but in every wifely allegiance. Thus far she had wofully failed +in such allegiance. Even before the last sad breach between her husband +and herself she had allowed estrangement to come between them, and had +so exclusively devoted herself to her child that Leonard had been +secondary. It was true that she had not consciously intended this, but +she had been willing that it be so. Her consciousness of wrong warmed +her heart toward her absent husband, and filled it with longing to +reconsecrate herself to him. He would surely come to-day! As she sped +homeward she was more and more persuaded of it, and, finally, believed +that on her arrival she would find him waiting for her. As she neared +the house she trembled with expectation; she longed to clasp her arms +about his neck and falter her prayer for pardon, and assure him of her +love. There should be no shadows between them in future. She had dared +to look truth in the face, and, lo! it was no longer truth. All the +foolish, sinful longings of the past, persistent because she had refused +to recognize them, had been dissipated by the light of day. The present +moment was to live forever. Henceforth, Leonard, and only he, should +dwell in her heart of hearts.</p> + +<p>In her agitation she fumbled at the door-lock, then desisted, for from +the hallway she heard the firm step of a man coming to the door. Her +heart beat wildly; another moment and she would be forgiven.</p> + +<p>The door was suddenly opened. With a glad cry Natalie spread wide her +own, and in the same instant was clasped in the arms of Mark Claghorn.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>WHEN MANHOOD IS LOST WOMAN'S TIME IS COME.</h3> + + +<p>In the misery of awakening to a consciousness of existing facts, Leonard +could see no possibility of extrication from the bog of degradation into +which he had fallen. With excellent intentions on the part of his +pastors and masters, he had been trained to dishonest depreciation of +his own strength, and he was now without confidence or courage. His days +had been without guile, and the unaccustomed aspect of guilt overwhelmed +him with hopeless terror. The precepts instilled from infancy thundered +direful threats, dwelling lingeringly on the curses of Omnipotence; and +in the moment of the acquirement of the dread knowledge that he had been +self-deceived, that the Grace of God had not been his, that he, like +other doomed and defrauded sinners, had mistaken those "common +operations of the spirit," that even non-elect may have, for the +effectual call addressed only to the few chosen from eternity, and which +to all others is a monstrous mockery—in the moment of this awful +revelation he felt all the suffocating horror of that which he had +taught as truth: that for the weak there is no Father, no path but the +path of evil.</p> + +<p>The woman looked upon the exhibition of misery thus presented with +compassion tinged with scorn, yet with bewilderment. She had never seen +a sinner like this before; but instinctively she felt that when manhood +is lost woman's time has come.</p> + +<p>"<i>Voyons, chéri</i>," she said, "what is it all about?" and she drew his +head to her bosom.</p> + +<p>He grasped at the offered sympathy as a starving man may grasp a loaf. +The picture he presented was not adorable, but there was truth in it, +if, also, some unconscious comedy; and her compassion was not without +sincerity, though his broken story was of less interest to her than the +simplicity of the narrator. She felt that she had been fashioned fit +for this man's needs; and while she soothed him, his spirits rose a +little, and he experienced a sort of satisfaction that, since he had +taken this direction, he had gone amazingly far. See, now, what Natalie +had done!</p> + +<p>They rescued Berthe's clothes and left the boarding-house, and were soon +quartered in a small French hotel, bathed and well dressed. The +surroundings were cheerful; the lunch table, with its bright glassware +and silver, white napery and bottle of champagne in its bucket of ice, +was inviting; the woman was gay, yet still compassionate and tender. +With the first glass of wine Leonard felt actually happy; and as he sat +opposite the well-clad woman with the great dark eyes, now languid and +inviting, now bright with challenge, and listened to the prattle, which +women of her nation can make so engaging, he, looking back upon the past +week, was enraptured by the contrast. Of such as she really was he had +no perception; he could no more estimate her character than could the +veriest college freshman, weary with knowledge of the world. Her +brightness of intellect was apparent, and there was neither coarseness +nor ignorance of amenities in her bearing. She had said to the mistress +of the boarding-house that she was a "lady," and she fitted sufficiently +the ordinary acceptation of a much-abused term. She told her story (with +the essential suppressions and variations), and he saw in her one who +had suffered from the injustice of the world. She admitted being in the +last stress of poverty, and confessed to having suffered actual hunger, +thanking him, with the first sheen of tears in her eyes, for rescuing +her clothes from the clutches of the hawk landlady.</p> + +<p>All these confidences, sweetened by moderate draughts of champagne—for +Berthe preached moderation, and economy as well—insensibly disposed the +man to further confidences of his own, and she listened eagerly to the +tale, of which she had heard disjointed fragments in his first outbreak +of despair.</p> + +<p>"It is all plain, <i>chéri</i>" was her comment. "Mademoiselle—I mean your +wife—never loved you."</p> + +<p>"I know that," was the gloomy answer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, but why not? You so beautiful a man, so good!" and she knelt beside +him and put her arms about his neck.</p> + +<p>"So beautiful! That is a matter of taste. So good!" he sighed, but let +his head droop on her shoulder all the same.</p> + +<p>"Any woman must love you," she murmured. "But one thing could hinder."</p> + +<p>"And that thing?"</p> + +<p>"That she first loved another," she whispered.</p> + +<p>He was silent.</p> + +<p>"We all knew it in France," she said.</p> + +<p>"The Marquise?" he asked huskily.</p> + +<p>"The Marquise, assuredly. Why, we ran away from her because of it."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all you know," he said, after awhile.</p> + +<p>The woman's heart fluttered; here were her tools. She could keep him, +and she would. Kneeling thus beside him, her arms about him, her body +close to his, his cheek against her own, he was hers. No woman should +take him from her. Rights? Bah! Hers were the rights of conquest, and of +the fierce demands which bade her hold what she had gained. There were +no other rights.</p> + +<p>"She loved him always," she murmured. "It is all told in that." Yet she +told much more; of how the Marquise had always suspected, of wanderings +in Paris with no other chaperone than herself; on which occasions, +knowing what was expected of her, and unwilling to spoil the pretty game +she watched, she had discreetly remained as much as possible in the +background. "He was generous and gave me presents—but, <i>ciel</i>! Why +shouldn't he with a gold mine?" They had especially affected churches, +and picture galleries where they could sit in secluded nooks, and where +Natalie's attendant could easily lose herself temporarily. "The Marquise +raved furiously," added the narrator, "but she would have raved more +furiously still had she known all I knew."</p> + +<p>"She never loved me," faltered Leonard.</p> + +<p>"But I loved you the moment I saw you. It was hard to have you leave me +after that kiss. Tell me it was hard for you."</p> + +<p>"It was hard; better had I never left you."</p> + +<p>"And now you never will. You have made me love you; and I,—I have made +you love me; is it not so? Is it wicked? Ah, no; it is good, it is +good."</p> + +<p>To him who heard the murmured words and was enveloped in the tenderness +she shed upon him; who felt her lips upon his own, and who, in the +contact, found sweet content—to him, this was a foretaste of the life +that might be, if he had the courage to embrace it. He was like some +worn and weary pilgrim in arid sands who, visioning an oasis, lies him +down by a green brookside, rests in the fresh breezes, listens to the +rippling waters, sees their sparkle and inhales the fragrance of the +flowers, and so is lulled to fatal languor, unconscious that all is a +mere mirage.</p> + +<p>To her he was no mere wayside victim, but in his resemblance to him +whose picture she had held toward heaven in the church, a reminder of +the happy days when first she had known love. She longed desperately to +retain him, and though she feared the dark gulf of misery in which he +had found her, with him she would have even faced it again, rather than +safety with another; so that her cajolements had the grace of sincerity, +though the parting, which he knew must come, remained constantly the +dark background of the present. It may seem that to leave the woman +required little heroism; that whatever charms she might possess for him, +that those of dignity, of worthy citizenship, of respect, of all that +even worldly men hold dear, would allure him with greater power. All of +which is reasonable, and, no doubt, such considerations do often operate +in cases where discreet sinners, having sinned in secret, quietly emerge +from the bog of evil-doing, cleanse their garments and, animated by good +resolutions, go forth among their fellows, keeping their own counsel; +but these are sinners of experience. The innocent man, like the innocent +woman, falls far when he falls; such men sacrifice present respect and +hope for the future, choosing ruin; and while there are numerous roads +to that goal, the most frequented is that one where woman roams.</p> + +<p>But whatever heroism may have been necessary, this man possessed it. He +turned his face resolutely from the allurements of the present, and, if +trembling, faced the future.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be otherwise," he said, falteringly. "I do not leave you to +return to happiness. I might find that with you. I go because both for +you and for me it is right. We may have years of life before us; let us +use them for repentance. In this lies our only hope."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what my life must be?"</p> + +<p>"One of better deeds. It is not for me," he said, sorrowfully, "to try +to win you to high thoughts. That would seem impious, and would inspire +you with just contempt for me and for those teachings I have disgraced. +But I urge you to consider these things. Seek counsel; I can give you +the means; or, if you prefer, go to a priest of your own church."</p> + +<p>She smiled bitterly. Knowing his own deadly depression, he could read +her thoughts; he implored her not to despair, pointing out that that +which was a solemn obligation, her temporal welfare, would be surely +fulfilled by him. "Our unholy union," he said, with sad simplicity, +"entails upon me the duty of making due provision for you. This will be +a matter for immediate attention; promise me to remain quietly here +until you hear from me."</p> + +<p>And so it was arranged, he giving her money for present needs. He +watched her while she packed his valise, touched by wifely attentions, +the lack of which, he told himself, had long been a grievance, of which +now he knew the cause. He looked about him, noting the embellishments +which her taste and her training had enabled her to add to the room, +even in the short period of their occupancy, and the sense of a +justifying grievance grew stronger.</p> + +<p>"There's room for this," she said, holding up a bottle of champagne, the +last of a series, and unused because she had insisted upon moderation. +He watched her place it in the bag. He had resolved never again to drink +wine, but he would not refuse what she gave him, denying herself.</p> + +<p>They said good-bye. He left her, promising soon to see her, and in his +heart solemnly resolving that they should never meet again. The lie was +but one more added to his catalogue of sins, and had been necessary. As +to that provision for her needs, he would make it generously. He could +not as yet see how details were to be arranged, but for the present +there were other things to think of. A man cannot suddenly make the +acquaintance of himself without paying some attention to the stranger.</p> + +<p>He remained a day longer in the city, and then, absolutely unable to +bear solitude, and with a manful struggle to avoid returning to the +beckoning comfort he had left, he started on the dreaded journey +homeward.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE.</h3> + + +<p>As he left the train in the early morning and crossed the Square toward +his house he was, notwithstanding a half-defiant carriage, assumed to +hide the cringing of his heart, probably the most miserable man in +Hampton. He sat down upon the bench where he had rested after his first +meeting with Berthe and, recalling that meeting, remembered how he had +striven to give a jaunty trend to his thoughts, and had tried to +persuade himself that the kissing episode was but a venial misstep, +having indeed little of dignity, but even less of sin. Behold, now, to +what it had led him!—that deed in which he had actually gloried, seeing +himself, because of it, somewhat more a man of the world than was +suspected, with experiences concerning which honor bound him to secrecy +as it did men of experience; wherefore he had despised the blabbers of +his college days, who either kissed not at all, yet boasted of such +kissing, or, displaying equal ingenuousness and greater meanness, +bragged of actual kisses. He recalled all this with real sorrow, not +unmingled with contempt for the callow youth who had sat here indulging +in boyish fancies, the wickedness whereof was surpassed only by their +shallowness. It was then, he thought, that his unconscious yet +diabolical arts upon the woman, destined to be his victim, had +commenced. Though his present misery was as great as he could bear and +his penitence sincere, nevertheless, there was an underlying +consciousness, and pride in the fact, of more than ordinary fascinating +powers, in respect of women. She had loved him from the moment she had +seen him, and had loved him to her own destruction! Though he regarded +with horror that which he believed himself to have compassed, yet the +underlying complacency was there. All these years she had been faithful +to his memory. Alas for her weakness! alas for the fate which had made +him, in respect to her, a villain! He truly repented,—was he not bowed +to the ground in humiliation and sorrow for his sin? Yet, was he wholly +responsible, he who had, in ignorance, exercised seductive powers, +possessed in ignorance?</p> + +<p>The inner being of this man, of noble outward form, was not cast in +heroic mould, such moulds being seldom used in the fashioning of our +neighbors; yet he was no unusual product, being the inevitable result of +various influences, for most of which he was not responsible. An +idolized child, a boy of wondrous promise as of wondrous beauty, a youth +completely filling all promises of boyhood, early called to the service +of Heaven, and so, somewhat set apart and cherished with a care +befitting a sacred vessel, to be guarded from every rude touch lest its +perfection be endangered,—thus he had been fitted for the world. Every +natural healthy instinct had been bent and distorted by the loving hands +of ignorance, while equally natural impulses had been ignored as +unwholesome weeds, which would find no place in a nature dedicated and +cultivated for Heaven. He had been esteemed as somewhat higher than +ordinary humanity, while human vices had been nourished in him so that +they bore blossoms so fair to look upon that they were as virtues. His +innate vanity had been so fostered that it had become the central +product of his moral being, permeating every thought, mingled with every +act. His most patent and engaging graces had been developed by this +vice. His frankness, his amiability, his generosity, his mental +aptitude, were all means for winning the esteem he craved, and had been +employed, in fact, to that end. They were real virtues. He was in +goodness all he seemed to be. The kindness of heart for which he was +praised and loved, even this excellence aided in the nurture of that +self-complacency which led him to ascribe the woman's undoing to his +witchery, rather than to her willingness.</p> + +<p>As he raised his eyes and caught sight of his home, and knew that he +must enter the house, the subtle consolation which had formed the +undercurrent of his despondency was forgotten, or, perhaps, its utter +worthlessness for the moment recognized. The whole horrible load of +regret weighed again upon him, crushing his spirit. There was no comfort +now in any phase of his reflections. He had gone forth from the home of +his innocent boyhood, as of his worthy manhood, unhappy, indeed, but +claiming and receiving the respect of all his fellows. Now, he must +creep back, so vile a creature that he dreaded to meet the eyes even of +his servants.</p> + +<p>As to his wife, though he had left her without good-bye, and though +there had been estrangement between them, he knew that he must meet her +face to face, and while he dreaded the meeting, still he longed for it +and longed to throw himself upon his knees before her and confess. As to +that which had estranged them, it seemed a trifle to him now. Let her +have her will; if therein there was to be punishment for him, was he not +willing to do penance all his days? As to those confidences made by +Berthe, while he believed them, he believed only what he had been told. +As to seriously thinking of actual guilt in connection with Natalie, she +was too truly estimated by him, and he too truly innocent, still, to +harbor base suspicions. But he knew that she had not loved him, and in +the dismal oppression caused by his own misdeeds this conviction created +a distinct and sharp pain, and yet it had its own alleviation. He, too, +had something to forgive, and did forgive, even now, before forgiveness +had been granted him. Yes, he would meet her face to face, and there +should be repentance between them and, as each had done wrong, so each +would do all that could be done in reparation, and if the sacrifice she +had demanded of him be still required, he would make it.</p> + +<p>And thus, while Natalie, in the cemetery, had seen the way to +reconciliation with her husband, and had recognized that she had wronged +him, and in that recognition had found in her heart a greater love for +him than she had known before, so he with similar thoughts, though more +confusedly and with less honesty, though not consciously dishonest, +slowly made his way toward the house. He entered by means of his +latchkey, meeting nobody, and went at once to the library. It was still +early: doubtless Natalie was in her room. He was not sorry for a +respite.</p> + +<p>He was faint and felt the need of refreshment. No doubt, the maids were +about, so he went toward the bell, then drew back, recognizing in his +action his dread of meeting any occupant of the house. Then he +remembered that in his valise was a small bottle of champagne. He was +not sorry, now, for Berthe's foresight, and in his heart thanked her. He +recalled how pleasantly this wine had affected him, how it had given him +courage, and how his horrible depression had vanished under its +influence. Notwithstanding his resolve to resume his old practice of +abstinence in regard to wine, he was glad that he had this chance +bottle, for he had never needed courage more than now. He wished he had +some food, for he had eaten but little for many hours; the wine would +serve until he had the courage to ask for food.</p> + +<p>While he was opening his bottle the front-door bell rang. The library, +its doorway hung with heavy curtains, faced the entrance to the house. +Leonard, peeping between the curtains, saw Mark Claghorn admitted and +ushered by the servant into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>The sight of Mark, whom he had supposed in Europe, aroused his anger. He +hated Mark as one who had gained a love that should have been his own. +Under the circumstances he was not sorry that his presence in the house +was unknown. Mark, who was noted as an early riser, had probably ridden +over from Stormpoint on some trifling errand, and, soon after Natalie +appeared, would doubtless leave the house.</p> + +<p>And so he waited, thirstily quaffing the champagne and wishing he had a +biscuit. He tried not to think of the visitor in the drawing-room, but +found that effort vain, thinking of him, in fact, with fast-rising +anger, until he was on the point of seeking the man to force a quarrel +on him which should banish the intruder from the house forever.</p> + +<p>He was arrested in this intention by hearing Mark emerge from the +drawing-room and walk quickly to the front door. Leonard peeped through +the curtains and saw his wife, with her arms outspread, fall upon Mark's +breast, and heard her cry aloud:</p> + +<p>"My darling, my darling, welcome home!" and with upturned face she drew +Mark's downward, kissing his lips as she had never kissed the watcher.</p> + +<p>Who staggered backward, sinking into a chair, dazed as by a blow.</p> + +<p>Her face had been illumined, glowing with happiness. Her dancing eyes, +her outspread arms, her lips upturned, her gladness unrestrained, so +impatient in her longing that she could not wait for greater privacy +than the hall—in these he had seen a woman never seen by him before. +This was Mark's welcome home. What was his to be?</p> + +<p>Great tears streamed down his face; of wounded vanity, of love and trust +betrayed, of growing fury. His moods followed fast one upon another. Now +sunk in profounder depths of sorrow than any yet sounded, now raging +with frantic lust for vengeance upon the woman and her lover.</p> + +<p>Even while chaotic fancies whirled in his brain he could hear the murmur +of their talk, ecstatic dalliance which he would interrupt.</p> + +<p>Yes, he would disconcert their cooing, cover the pair with humiliation, +eject the glib intruder and bring the woman to her knees.</p> + +<p>But he could not move. He was chained to his chair. A horrible +fluttering of his heart made him gasp for breath, his head fell back, +his face and lips were white. The want of food, the nervous depression, +the rage and exhaustion, all intensified by the sharp and unaccustomed +fillip of the wine, had done their work. At first it was fainting, then +came slumber.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>SHE CRIED ALOUD SHE WAS A GUILTY CREATURE.</h3> + + +<p>For a moment Mark had yielded to the rapture of the first pure pressure +of lips he had ever known. From the window he had seen Natalie advancing +toward the house, and had involuntarily gone to meet her. The sight of +her had quickened his blood, but if, for an instant, he had reveled in +the bliss of the welcome she had granted him, almost in the same instant +he recognized and regretted that he had dishonored her in accepting +caresses not intended for him.</p> + +<p>He drew her somewhat hastily into the drawing-room. Before he could say +a word she had recognized him.</p> + +<p>"Mark," she exclaimed, amazed, and then a rosy blush spread over her +face.</p> + +<p>"I startled you," he said. "It was absurd in me, unpardonable."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was——" her voice faltered.</p> + +<p>"Leonard, of course. Now welcome me for myself," and he took her hand +and shook it warmly, after a proper, cousinly fashion, perhaps sadly +noting the contrast, but striving to shield her embarrassment.</p> + +<p>He succeeded, as far as appearances went. But both were conscious of +emotion, though each strove gallantly to hide it.</p> + +<p>"I am so surprised," she faltered. "You must have made a remarkable +passage. Your mother did not expect you yet. In fact, Paula——"</p> + +<p>"I took an earlier steamer than I had originally intended, and had a +quick passage besides."</p> + +<p>"How glad they must have been at Stormpoint!"</p> + +<p>"They seemed so. I arrived last night."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry Leonard is not home yet. I expected him this morning. He has +been in New York."</p> + +<p>"So the maid told me. Of course, I should not have disturbed you at +this hour had I been aware of his absence. I rode over, and knowing that +Leonard is, like myself, an early bird, thought I would say +good-morning."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad you did, Mark."</p> + +<p>"Yet, it is always foolish to run outside of conventional grooves. The +maid told me you were gone for a walk, and so I waited."</p> + +<p>"Which was right. I am glad you waited."</p> + +<p>Plainly she was uneasy and so, feeling rather foolish, he explained that +in order to fulfil the duty of breakfasting at Stormpoint he must be +going. Her suggestion that he remain and breakfast with her was made +rather faintly. "Good-bye, Natalie," he said. "Remember me to Leonard. +Next time I shall call in proper form."</p> + +<p>And so he rode away, watched a little while by her, who then went to her +own now belated breakfast. She sat at the table, eating hardly at all, +seemingly lost in thought. Then she went slowly upstairs to her own +room.</p> + +<p>She sat down upon the bed, suddenly catching her breath, as one stifling +a sob. Then she twitched her body with an impatient shake, like a +naughty child. Then she rose quickly and began to rectify or complete +various small duties, neglected by the maid, who had arranged the +chamber while she had been out. Ornaments were to be lifted and dusted, +pillows more carefully smoothed, chairs to be moved an inch forward then +replaced. Mirrors to be wiped clear of invisible dust, but not, for some +inscrutable reason, to be looked into; in short, pretended duty must be +indulged in—a poor pretense, which died away as she sank into a chair +and, with listless hands lying in her lap, permitted thought to have its +way.</p> + +<p>Had she known him or not? Of course she had not known him. Not even when +(here she blushed and her lips parted slightly)——She was angry at her +impetuosity, honestly angry. It was silly, but she had no other reproach +to make to herself. It had not been her fault, coming from the sunny +street, that she had not recognized the man who had advanced so eagerly +to meet her,—the last person she could have expected to see in her own +house. It would be absurd to feel more than passing annoyance at such a +contretemps. Only a morbid conscience could find reproach for an +episode in which there was no fault, which naturally she regretted——</p> + +<p>No! She did <i>not</i> regret. Had her heart not fluttered with joy every +moment since it had happened? Was it true or was it not—she did not +know, but, alas, she wished it true—that for one brief instant, ere he +had released her, she had known him and had been happy? Happy! What a +barren word was "happy."</p> + +<p>Her thoughts wandered far—farther than ever before. The secret casket +in her heart, wherein heretofore they had been hidden, was opened, and +they rushed forth, to roam in regions forbidden, yet so fair that her +feeble protests were unheeded; and she smiled upon them, these bright +children of fancy, wandering with them in the paradise where Love has +made his home. She closed her eyes and strove to realize again the brief +ecstasy of an hour ago. She knew—she must have known—in whose arms she +had been enfolded. She wished it so; it must be so. Again she felt his +beating heart against her own, his arms once more about her, his breast +pressed close to hers. "Mark," she whispered, stretching forth her arms +and pouting lips as one prepares for meeting other lips——</p> + +<p>The morning grew old, and she still sat thinking of many things. She +knew that she loved the man that had left her, with a love that must be +his, and his only, shared by no other. She had known it as she had that +morning stood upon the strand, seeing in the fleeting rainbows of the +spray pictures of a life that might have been, but which could never be. +She had turned her back upon the vision, well knowing why she turned +away. She had seen it again in the cemetery and had denied it, bidding +it begone forever; and she had met it on the threshold of her home, no +longer a vision, but a fact so rapturous and so mighty that she dared no +longer deny the truth. She loved him; she had always loved him.</p> + +<p>She sat long, dreaming her pleasant dreams, which only slowly merged +with the facts with which she was environed. Very gradually the full +import of her thoughts came home to her, but it came surely, disclosing +an abyss so evil and so deep that she was appalled, and sinking upon +her knees she cried aloud that she was a guilty creature, and prayed +fervently and long for aid to be that which she had only that morning +resolved to be, a faithful wife in thought as in deed.</p> + +<p>At last she went downstairs. Entering the library, she discovered her +husband.</p> + +<p>He still slept, the deep sleep of exhaustion. She watched him, noting +the careworn face, the disheveled dress. To her he looked like a man who +had passed through a crisis of illness, he was so changed.</p> + +<p>And now the regret and penitence for all the wrong she had done him +pressed upon her as a heavy weight. She was his wife, yet had driven him +from her side. She was his wife, yet had, within an hour, dreamed her +dreams of love and happiness in which he had no share.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>A GOLDEN BRIDGE ACROSS AN ABYSS OF SHAME.</h3> + + +<p>When Leonard awoke to find her bending over him, the anxiety in her eyes +looked to him like fear. He had no perception of the fact that hours had +passed since in the meeting in the hall he had seen the same eyes +dancing with the light of joy, and had heard from the drawing-room the +fond murmurs of forbidden love. In his first awakening the scene he had +witnessed and the murmurs he had heard swayed before his eyes and +sounded still in his ears. Fresh from dalliance with her lover, she +might well tremble to find her husband here! With this thought +uppermost, he staggered to his feet.</p> + +<p>She started back. He glared upon her with a gaze so furious that she was +in truth afraid.</p> + +<p>For the burden of her guilty dream weighed heavily upon her, justifying +the hatred in his eyes, a hatred born of the ascription of all his woes +to her, and while she saw abhorrence, the suffering he had endured was +no less plainly written in his haggard face, accusing her even as she +accused herself. Her sins against this man, her husband, the father of +her dead child, crushed her with the burden of the humiliation born of +them.</p> + +<p>"My husband!" In her self-abasement she sank upon her knees. The action +was instinctive in her of Gallic training; to Leonard, bred to less +dramatic display of emotion, it was proof of guilt far deeper than he +had until now suspected.</p> + +<p>"Get up," he said harshly, and taking her by the arm he led her to the +doorway, pushing her from the room and, with unconscious violence, +almost throwing her against the opposite wall. He returned to the room +and rang the bell. His rudeness had given him a sense of mastery in his +own house, and had dissipated his dread of meeting the servants. He +asked the maid if breakfast would soon be ready, and was surprised to +learn that it was long past noon.</p> + +<p>Ordering a meal to be prepared he went upstairs, boldly and with +something not unlike a swagger in the perception that there were sinners +as bad as he, and having bathed, being clothed in fresh garments, and +having eaten almost ravenously, he felt, he said to himself, like a new +man.</p> + +<p>Which indeed he was, if new thoughts make a new man. That dreadful load +of regret for his own misdeeds had been lifted from his shoulders. His +violence toward his wife had somewhat shocked himself, and while +attending to his physical needs, he had had time to regret his hasty +outbreak; and this fact led him to resolve to consider the situation +calmly and judicially.</p> + +<p>To know all is, if the French adage be true, to pardon all, which is +perhaps the reason why we find it easier to forgive our own sins than +those of others. We presumably know what motives actuated us in +evil-doing, and being aware of the strength of the force that drove us, +we are conscious of the fact that had the incentive to sin been less +powerful than our rectitude we would not have been guilty. In other +words, we sin because we can't help sinning, a logical and soothing +conclusion, converting our wickedness into misfortune and rendering us +objects of self-commiseration rather than of self-condemnation.</p> + +<p>But in that contemplation of the iniquity of others, to which +circumstances sometimes impel us, and which is always so painful, the +strength of temptation which we have not personally experienced is less +obvious, while at the same time the sense of our own rectitude is +naturally in the ascendant. And as, in such contemplation, our judgment +is inevitably swayed by our morality in its sternest mood, especially if +the crimes under consideration have wronged ourselves, our indignation +is naturally fervent. It is also true that our vision is clarified, our +memory sharpened, and we recall incidents, now corroborative of guilt, +though heretofore unremarked, or regarded as innocent.</p> + +<p>Leonard recalled so many of such incidents that at last nearly every +remembered act of his wife assumed a semblance of guilt. There were +those visits to churches mentioned by Berthe, the woman who truly loved +him, and who, doubtless, had minimized the truth to spare him, and the +same habit had been indulged in after marriage. It was not to pray that +she went to the churches; he remembered that she had herself said so. +No; it was to dream of the old unhallowed meetings in the hallowed +precincts. To dream! Why not to meet her lover? During much of their +sojourn in Paris, Mark had been supposed to be in London—what was a +passage between London and Paris to Mark? He remembered now that in +Natalie's bearing toward himself there had always been a vague and +undescribable something which he could not define, but which he had +felt. It was easy now to fix the date of the commencement of this +aloofness (he had found this word for it); it had been during the visit +in Paris. He recalled a thousand instances with which to torture his +mind and prove his suspicions true. The aloofness had increased; after +the birth of the child it had even been noticed by others—and then as a +blow came the conviction that the inferences she had drawn from his +belief in hell and her consequent resolve to live a celibate life were +all pretense, a ghastly role played in obedience to her lover's command.</p> + +<p>As this hideous thought took possession of him all semblance of judicial +summing up was put aside. He laid his head between his hands and wept +aloud in his great misery. He had loved her; she had been the light of +his life. He remembered her now (and the vision he recalled was +strangely clear and vivid) as she had stood at the entrance to the cave +where dwelt the echo of Forellenbach; she laughing a little at the +strange American boy who thought wine-drinking an evil; he standing +within the cave, half shy, half proud, and longing to wake the echoes +with the pretty name, on that day first heard by him. Yes; he had loved +her then and always, while she,—and he groaned and his hot tears fell +fast as he remembered that Berthe had said—Berthe who knew—that his +wife had never loved him!</p> + +<p>The thoughts that racked him were base and unworthy, but he believed +them. It may be that at the bottom of his heart he wished to believe, +even while the belief rent him with actual anguish. He needed +justification for his own sins, and true to his human nature, found it +where he could. Again, perhaps dim as yet, but only dim because he +closed his eyes, was the desire to be driven to a step which he had +hardly dared contemplate, which he had refused to contemplate when it +had been suggested to him, but toward which now he was making his way as +certainly as he who, lost in the gloom of some dark forest, makes his +way toward a rift of light.</p> + +<p>He took Mrs. Joe's cheque from his pocket and looked at it. He recalled +a suggestion of Berthe that they cash it and go to France together. The +suggestion had startled, yet had fascinated him. He had put it aside. +Now its fascination returned with tenfold power—to put the ocean +between him and the past; to be a denizen of that land where man can be +free; to be one of those who, being damned, refuse to accept misery in +this life as well—he had recognized it then as a picture painted by the +devil; it now assumed a worthier aspect. There would be boldness in such +a step, a certain picturesqueness as well, and a dramatic ending to the +play in which he had enacted the role of dupe. The curtain would be rung +down upon a scene not contemplated by the authors of the drama—a scene +in which he alone would retain some dignity, to the discomfiture of +those whose puppet he had been.</p> + +<p>No thought of financial dishonesty was in his mind. The peculiar +fascination in the cheque was the facility it afforded for complete and +sudden rupture of every tie. He could secure the maker of the cheque +against loss; that could be done at his leisure; meanwhile, there it +lay, a golden bridge for passage across an abyss of shame, beyond which +lay a region of beauty and content.</p> + +<p>Yet even while he mused, finding a balm for wounded pride and love +betrayed in visions, of which the central figure was the woman who had +parted from him in despair, and whose pleading eyes even now besought +him, while his own lonely heart called out to her—even now, when +despair on the one hand, and passion on the other, strove for mastery, +even now he turned from the devil's beckoning finger, resolving to be +just.</p> + +<p>Yes; the accused should have a hearing. He would confront his wife and +demand an explanation of that meeting in the hall. She was probably +aware that he had witnessed it, for she had crouched in fear before him +when she had unexpectedly found him in the library. If she had not known +of his presence he would inform her and warily watch her, and carefully +weigh whatever she had to offer in explanation. He would not be +deceived, but she should meet the accusation face to face, himself +accuser, judge and witness.</p> + +<p>He looked at his watch. It was after nine o'clock. Natalie could hardly +be in bed. He would see her now in her own room, away from the chance of +eavesdropping servants.</p> + +<p>He prepared to put his intention into effect and was already in the +hall, when a maid handed him a sealed note.</p> + +<p>He read the letter. It commenced abruptly, without address:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Your violence has so agitated me that it has only been after a +long struggle that I have brought myself to write you. But I +persuade myself, as indeed I must, that you were unconscious of +your harshness. I will not, therefore, offer you my forgiveness +for an offense which was unintentional. But I think it better +that we do not meet immediately. I am the more urgent in this +because I wish your spirit to be soothed and your anger against +me to be mitigated, so that you shall hear me calmly. For, I +have much to say to you—a sad confession to make which may be +even harder for you to bear than the sorrow you have already +borne. But I have hope that if you will hear it calmly you will +recognize that if I did not love you I could not open my heart +to you, as I shall do. My husband, I have not been that which I +so long to be in future, a true wife to you. But I know, for I +know your goodness of heart, that when you have heard all you +will pardon all, and that our future shall be cloudless; that +your love shall help me to be that which I have failed in +being—your faithful wife."</p></blockquote> + +<p>No need now, having read this confession, to consider his future course. +It was fixed. He looked at his watch. The train left at midnight. He +would write the necessary answer to the letter at once.</p> + +<p>He wrote swiftly and without pause. His brain had never been clearer, +his heart never lighter.</p> + +<p>A few minutes before midnight he quietly left the house. When he had +crossed the street to the Square he looked back at the only home he had +ever known. For good or for evil he was about to leave it, never to +return the husband of the woman who watched in the dimly lighted +chamber. A sob shook him as he turned from the light toward the +darkness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE RUINS OF HER AIR-CASTLE LAY AROUND HER.</h3> + + +<p>Father Cameril laid down the "Life of St. Dunstan" and sighed. "He was +strong, he was faithful," muttered the good Father. "Alas!" and he +sighed again.</p> + +<p>He took a photograph from his pocket and gazed long upon the pictured +features. "Dr. Hicks did it," he murmured. Then he replaced the +photograph and went forth, going toward the sea, until at last, by many +a devious way, he came into the grounds of Stormpoint, and there, by +Eliphalet's Tomb, he saw a woman. "'Tis fate," he muttered. The woman +turned; Father Cameril started. He was face to face with Natalie.</p> + +<p>He stammered awkwardly, being wholly taken by surprise, that he had +thought she was Miss Lynford; then, after some conventional references +to the weather, he escaped. Natalie watched him as he walked away, then +fell into bitter musings, in which he had no part.</p> + +<p>Two years had passed since Leonard's flight. With the fall of her hero, +the light of the life of Miss Claghorn had been extinguished, and +though, with grim courage, she had striven to bear the heavy hand of the +Lord, laid thus upon the House of Claghorn, the knowledge that another +of the race, the brightest and the best, was doomed, was too heavy a +burden. Other Claghorns would be born and would live their little day, +but for whom could hope be cherished after such a fall as this? She +passed from life sure of her own salvation, but with the knowledge that +the elect race was no more to be reckoned as of the favored minority. +She refused to leave any message for Leonard; since the Lord had closed +the gates of glory upon him, it was for her to close her heart. She +charged her estate with a liberal annuity for Tabitha Cone, leaving her +fortune, otherwise unincumbered, to Natalie, who, with Tabitha, +continued to reside at the White House.</p> + +<p>A further untoward result of the catastrophe was the derangement of the +political plans of Mrs. Joe. The use of her cheque, given to Leonard, as +trustee, his unfulfilled promise of a large donation from an anonymous +lady (who could be no other than the lady of Stormpoint), his curt +resignation sent to the Seminary authorities from New York, the +separation from his wife, her seclusion, the crushing grief of Miss +Claghorn, the perturbation of Mrs. Joe, shared by Mark—these were all +parts of a puzzle eagerly put together, and so far successfully, that +the fact of the misuse of the cheque was established, at least to the +satisfaction of the multitude. And this involved an explanation from +Mrs. Joe, and the making known of her change of mind in respect of the +donation, which again involved some reflection upon the god and the +Confession revered by the Seminary, wherefrom was emitted a spark of +resentment, not allayed by Mark's openly expressed indignation with +those who professed to discover something parlous with regard to the +change of mind of his mother, in respect to the once-intended bounty. +The upshot of all this confusion was the lassitude, not to say, disgust, +evinced by Mark for the political prospects held out by Hampton, and +Mrs. Joe's recognition of the need of acting upon the shrewd advice of +Mr. Hacket, which was to "lie low till the pot stopped boiling," a +consummation not fervently hoped for by the adviser.</p> + +<p>With eyes fixed upon where the sun, a fiery ball, fast sank in the +distant waters, Natalie, standing where Father Cameril had left her, +recalled the days of her girlhood and their dreams. Her life, short as +it had been as yet, had been full of trouble. Were all lives thus? Her +glance fell upon the tomb; she wondered if the man at rest these two +centuries and more had in death resolved the deep mystery of living; or +was he, in fact, not yet at rest, but wandering still in other spheres, +the toy of a destiny he could neither shape nor fathom? She recalled the +day upon which she had seen the handsome American boy in the Odenwald, +and she thought of the ruin of his life with unutterable sadness. She +remembered how she had prattled with her father as the two dusty +travelers had entered the garden, and she recalled her bright visions +of the days to come. The days were here! The crumbling ruins of her +air-castles lay about her, and in the great upheaval that had caused +their fall a life had been wrecked. She looked out upon the waters, +hearing the ceaseless moan of the surge, and remembered how the kindly +fury of the waves had striven to rescue that life from shame and +degradation. Better, ah! how much better, had Leonard never returned +from that desperate plunge, but had gone a hero to whatever lay beyond!</p> + +<p>She remembered the day—it was not a day to be forgotten—that she had +taken the early walk to the cemetery; and how, as she had then looked +out upon the waves, a truth that during all the days of her wedded life +had lain at the bottom of her heart, had confronted her unbidden, +demanding recognition. She had refused to see it, until in the awakening +that had come to her in the cemetery she had, with high resolve, +determined to defy it and make of it a lie—and within an hour had +forgotten her resolution, and had dreamed her dreams which had their +birth in the pressure of lips to which she had no right. On the morrow +of that darkest day of her life she had found her husband's letter to +herself, a letter whose words were burned in upon her memory: "Natalie, +in your heart you never loved me." He had added more, the justification +of the wretched confession, now defiant, now maudlin, which followed; +much of it sadly false; but she remembered it all, and the true text of +his miserable story stood out before her as though lettered in the air. +The words condemned her. It was not true, and she made a gesture as +though repelling an accusation—it was not true that in the truth of +Leonard's words lay the underlying motive of the course of life she had +resolved upon. She denied this in her thoughts with almost frantic +vehemence; yet, urgent in her wish to find palliation for her husband's +sin, and seeing with clear vision the folly of the frightful dogma which +she now knew that in very truth he could not have believed, but which, +if believed, must of her own wrong have made a virtue, she grew +confused, and could find but one utterance to express the truth—"I have +sinned."</p> + +<p>She drew from the bosom of her dress a letter which she had received +but a few hours before. It was from Leonard, written from New York, and +repeating that accusation which she confessed as true. In the letter the +writer expressed his surprise that he had not found, on his return to +America, that she had taken steps to rid herself of ties which must be +hateful to her. This, he claimed, was an added injury to him, since it +prevented the course which his conscience required, and which he was in +honor bound to take for the sake of one who had loved him sufficiently +to sacrifice herself for him (meaning, though Natalie was ignorant of +the fact, Mademoiselle Berthe). He had added that if, within a given +time, his wife did not avail herself of the legal right to secure her +freedom, he would, actuated by the high considerations suggested, be +compelled to take measures to satisfy his conscience and his sense of +honor. And he concluded the epistle by setting forth with sufficient +distinctness the fact, that the law would recognize the validity of the +grounds on which he would, if it became necessary, base his application +for divorce.</p> + +<p>Heretofore she had resented the urgency of every friend (except one who +refrained from advice) to take the step to which she saw now she would +be driven. Mark alone had been silent, and her heart had often +fluttered, knowing his reason. But she had not dwelt upon a thought upon +which she knew she must not linger; rather had she prayed that Leonard +might return, and she be enabled to carry out the resolve she had so +often made, and in which she had so often failed, to be in all things a +true wife; thus earning the forgiveness which she craved by according +that which was due from her. Perhaps she had persuaded herself that such +a course would be possible—even so—she knew that in the letter she +held in her hand, she saw not the insult to herself, not the base +attitude of its writer, but the dawning of another day, and the promise +of a happiness which hitherto she had not dared contemplate, and which +she tried hard not to contemplate now.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>VOIDABLE VOWS OF TURKS (AND OTHERS).</h3> + + +<p>When Father Cameril had found Natalie at Eliphalet's tomb, expecting to +find Paula, he had received a greater shock than the incident would seem +to have required.</p> + +<p>He had said to himself it was Fate; but had found that it was not fate +that determined a step which he desired to be compelled to take.</p> + +<p>That vow of celibacy had been made in ignorance. He was sure, having +examined the authorities closely as to this, that a vow taken in +ignorance was not binding. Turks were in the habit of vowing enmity to +the truth, yet could a Turk do a more praiseworthy deed than break such +a vow? He had supposed that celibacy was a good things for priests. He +had been wrong. It was a very bad thing. Ought he to continue a wrong +course in deference to a vow taken under a misconception? The underlying +motive of the vow was the desire to live worthily; since life lived in +accordance therewith would be passed less worthily than in opposition to +it, the only honest course was to disregard the vow. So argued Father +Cameril, unaided by fate, and hence, compelled to fall back on logic.</p> + +<p>But fate was to be more propitious than he had feared. Seated on a rock +in a distant portion of the grounds, gazing out upon the setting sun, he +came upon Paula.</p> + +<p>He took the hand she offered and which, as had lately been the case, +lingered a little within his own. Then he sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful it is," she observed.</p> + +<p>"Paula," he said, "I love you. Will you be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Paula.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was not very reassuring. But it was not a refusal. Her face +was rosier than he had ever seen it. Her heart was beating wildly.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to be a nun," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"I know it," he replied; "and I——"</p> + +<p>"Vowed celibacy."</p> + +<p>"It is true," he admitted.</p> + +<p>And then they sat and looked at where the sun had been.</p> + +<p>After awhile Paula arose and said she must go to the house.</p> + +<p>He offered his hand.</p> + +<p>"May I kiss you?" he said, in a low tone, his face very pale.</p> + +<p>"Father Cameril!"</p> + +<p>He hung his head. "You despise me," he said, after awhile. "You are +right. I despise myself. It is very hard."</p> + +<p>"I don't despise you; and you are not to despise yourself," she +stammered. "You perplex and confuse me. You astonish me."</p> + +<p>"I knew I would," he answered hopelessly. "It is very natural. I wish I +had not been born."</p> + +<p>"I beg you not to say dreadful things, not to have dreadful thoughts," +she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But I can't help them. If you knew how awful they are sometimes. Dr. +Hicks did it, Paula."</p> + +<p>"Don't let us talk of it."</p> + +<p>"Let us think about it."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"Don't you love me?"</p> + +<p>"I love everybody. You, and everybody."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are a saint. I am not. I only love you. I only think of you. +Morning, noon and night. At Mass; everywhere——"</p> + +<p>"Do you, really?" she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I do, really."</p> + +<p>She looked at him curiously. It was very nice, indeed, to know that a +good man was in the habit of thinking of her so continuously. But——</p> + +<p>"You should not think of me in church," she said.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. I wouldn't if you were my wife. As it is, you creep into +all my thoughts. You are in the prayer-book, in the Bible, in the Life +of St. Dunstan, and of St. Thomas (of Canterbury), too. You are +everywhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Paula again. This was love indeed.</p> + +<p>"But your vow?"</p> + +<p>"I can explain that. Vowing under a misconception is not binding. That +was the way I vowed."</p> + +<p>"On purpose?" she asked, horrified.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I thought I was doing right."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you were," she said. "If you were, this must be wrong."</p> + +<p>"I have examined my own heart closely, very closely."</p> + +<p>"Have you been to confession?"</p> + +<p>"To whom can I go? The Bishop would not hear me. He is benighted——"</p> + +<p>"There's your friend, Father Gordon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Paula, he's only twenty-three."</p> + +<p>"But he's a priest."</p> + +<p>"But <i>he's</i> under a vow. How can he understand?"</p> + +<p>A rapid footstep was heard. "There's Mark!" exclaimed Paula.</p> + +<p>Father Cameril tripped quickly away. "You here!" exclaimed Mark, as he +came upon Paula. "Isn't it dinner time?"</p> + +<p>"It must be," she said, slipping her hand into the arm he offered.</p> + +<p>"It was Father Cameril, Mark," she said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course?" she asked, with slow utterance.</p> + +<p>He looked down into her face a little quizzically. "Is it not of +course?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I—don't—think so," she answered slowly.</p> + +<p>"Paula!" He stood confronting her suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mark?"</p> + +<p>He laughed, yet looked at her rather seriously. "I thought you were +going to be a nun?"</p> + +<p>"I am; do you object?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be sorry to see it. But——"</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"There are other things I would regret more."</p> + +<p>She looked into his face. It was a quick, questioning glance, but long +enough for him to note her beauty. They went on to the house in silence, +but Paula's heart fluttered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<h3>HER FACE WAS THE MIRROR OF HER PLEASANT DREAMS.</h3> + + +<p>In Hampton Cemetery there stands, and will stand for the sympathetic +admiration of future ages, an imposing monument, which apprises him who +meditates among the tombs that it was "Erected to the Memory of Jeremiah +Morley, by his Sorrowing Widow." At the date of the construction of this +expensive evidence of grief, the cost whereof had been provided by +testamentary direction—for the late Jeremiah had not been the man to +stake a testimonial to his worth upon anything less binding—the +stone-cutter, as one versed in the prevailing fashion of monumental +inscriptions, had suggested the conventional reference to the usual +"Hope of a Joyful Resurrection"; but the widow, her conscience already +strained by the legend agreed upon, had objected. Yet the inscription +which strained her conscience had the merit of truth; for the man +beneath the stone had left her sorrowing, as she had sorrowed nearly +every day since she had been pronounced his wife; but, being strictly +Hamptonian in her views, her long intimacy with the deceased had +rendered her incredulous of his joyous resurrection.</p> + +<p>Years before the erection of the monument, while Easthampton was still a +port known to mariners, the warehouses since pulled down by Mrs. Joe +having hardly commenced to rot, a certain Jerry Morley who, so far as he +or anybody else knew, had no legitimate right to name or existence, had +sailed from the harbor in the capacity of third mate of the barque +"Griselda," a trim vessel manned by a crew of blackguards, not one of +whom could approach the mate either in hardihood or in villainy. At that +time Mate Jerry had been scarcely more than a boy, ragged, unkempt and +fierce-eyed; when he returned, which he did by stage (for the barque had +disappeared from the ken of man), he was a smooth-shaven, portly +gentleman, hard and domineering; but strict in his walk (to all +appearance), and rich. The voice of detraction is never absolutely +silent, and though Mr. Morley possessed all the ingredients which go to +the making of a "Prominent Citizen," and played that role successfully +for many years; yet occasional whispers were heard as to mutiny, murder, +seizure of the "Griselda," and a subsequent career as a slaver; +whispers, confined mostly to the ancient mariners who smoked and basked +about the decaying docks of Easthampton, and which, in due time, were +heard no more. Mr. Morley purchased a fine residence in Hampton, was +munificent to the Seminary, married the fair daughter of a prominent +theologian, and, in short, appeared to the eyes of the world as a clean, +pompous, very wealthy and highly respected citizen and church member. +Few beside his wife knew that, in fact, he was a brute, given over to +secret vices. He had possessed a brain incapable of either excitation or +ache. Never sober, no man had ever seen him (to the observer's +knowledge) drunk. Few suspected his secret indulgence, but at the age of +sixty, liquor, aided by other sly excesses known only to himself, struck +him down, as a bullet might have done, relieving a once rarely beautiful +woman of a great load, and granting her a few years of comfort as a +set-off against many years of hidden misery.</p> + +<p>From this grandfather Leonard had inherited more than one unsuspected +trait, but not the iron constitution which had succumbed only after +years of abuse. Berthe still had her adorable one, but her adoration was +gone; her man had become an object of compassionate disgust. The +brilliant theologian was a sot.</p> + +<p>His fall had been from so great a height to so low a depth, that in his +own eyes his ruin was accomplished before his case was hopeless. He was +not hurried to his doom by late awakened appetites alone; he had hardly +abandoned his home before regret, if not repentance, became a burden too +heavy for endurance. The mournful echoes of his days of virtue, the +visions of his past of honor, were ever in his ears and before his eyes. +Remorse, the hell of sinners, was ever present; and from its constant +pangs was no relief except in plunging deeper into sin, inviting +greater horrors, and ever beckoned by them. To such miseries were added +the fear of that unending life beyond the grave; the life of torment, +which all his days he had been taught to contemplate as the doom of +souls abandoned by their Maker. The knowledge that he was one of those +"passed by" and left for the fires of hell—this knowledge hourly +increased the anguish of his spirit. Who among men shall too hardly +judge a ruined fellow-creature, abandoned by his God, who in debauchery +can find forgetfulness; or who, in the hazy mists of drunkenness alone, +can see some rays to cheer the gloom of ruin?</p> + +<p>They had at first gone to Paris, and there he had plunged into +dissipation with an ardor that had startled and angered his companion, +whose good sense had been revolted. True, she had shown him the way, +recognizing his need of distraction; but she had not counted on reckless +excess, and had at first welcomed the change when he showed a +disposition to concentrate his attention upon liquor alone. She was to +learn that this slavery was the most debasing of all.</p> + +<p>The woman had loved her victim in her own way, and for awhile she +honestly strove to raise him from the foul abyss in which he seemed +doomed to settle, but her efforts had been vain. She had long been +possessed of the common purse, and though her prudence had husbanded the +proceeds of Mrs. Joe's cheque, she saw the necessity of reasonable +economy; so she got her man to London, where he, by this time, exhausted +from dissipation, was content to live frugally, so long as his decanter +of gin was kept supplied. The woman often gazed furtively at him, and +was troubled. She commenced to consider the future. "Leonard," she said +one day, "you ought to marry me."</p> + +<p>He was neither startled nor repelled. "It would be the first step in the +right direction," he answered. "Perhaps then I could overcome the +craving for drink." She was touched by the hope which for one moment +gleamed in his dull eyes. It aroused an answering hope in her bosom. Ah! +If it could be! If she could become his lawful wife, an honest woman; +and he the man he had been before she had led him to ruin! The passing +vision of purer days lured both.</p> + +<p>A nobler desire than mere acquisitiveness was awakened in her. She knew +that probably no such marriage would be legal; it might even be +dangerous. But, it would bind him to her so that there could be no +escape. And so the matter came to be discussed between the two. Both +were aware of the possible criminality of the act, though both hoped +that Leonard's wife had procured a divorce; but, notwithstanding some +misgiving, the marriage was finally accomplished. Berthe had her own +reasons for not waiting until they could revisit America; and perhaps in +the loneliness of his wrecked life, Leonard's object was like the +woman's, to bind her to himself with hooks of steel. Perhaps it was but +the result of influence of a stronger will upon a fast decaying mind.</p> + +<p>Thus it had come about that the two had returned to America, and, on +their arrival, had concocted the letter to Natalie, by whom it had been +submitted to Mr. Ellis Winter. That gentleman advised that Natalie take +up her residence in New York, and he engaged to notify Leonard that his +demand for divorce would be accorded, as soon as the needful legal +requisites could be complied with. Natalie was to make her application +on the ground of abandonment, and to refuse to ask for alimony.</p> + +<p>And now, alone with Tabitha in a big hotel, without occupation, except +such as was afforded by recollections which could not be other than +bitter; in the gloom of the days and the miserable object of her present +existence, Natalie allowed herself to see the rays of hope illumining a +future upon which she looked, shyly, and with a sense of guilt. Yet who +would not contemplate the alluring tint of fruit as yet forbidden, but +ripening for us before our eyes?</p> + +<p>During this period of isolation she saw Mark once, his visit having the +ostensible excuse of business. Leonard had, by the hand of his legal +adviser, written to Mrs. Joe, suggesting that she purchase the Morley +mansion, so that out of the proceeds of the sale he could repay his +debt. While the lady would have been as well content that the debt +remain unpaid, it was believed by all who still hoped that Leonard might +be won back to respectability, that the suggestion was a good one. To +carry it into effect the consent of Natalie was, of course, necessary, +and also that the transfer be effected before the institution of divorce +proceedings. The consent was immediately given.</p> + +<p>"And, Mark," said Natalie, as she handed him the deed, "if you see +Leonard, say to him that I hope for his forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"His forgiveness!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mark! I wronged him; I ought never——"</p> + +<p>He knew what was on her lips, but which she could not say to him—that +she ought never to have married Leonard. He took her hand and drew her, +unresisting, toward himself; her head drooped upon his shoulder. They +stood thus, for a moment, and then he left her. Words of love remained +unspoken, but the heart of each was full of that which was unsaid.</p> + +<p>There was a long and dreary interval, but at length came the day when +Natalie was made free. She learned the fact in the afternoon, but +concealed it from Tabitha. That evening she was melancholy, and Tabitha +essayed in vain to cheer her; and so the next day passed. But the day +after that Tabitha noticed a change; a tremulous fluttering, some +tendency to tears, but more to smiles. And Tabitha discovered that she +was being petted. She must have a drive—and had it; special delicacies +at luncheon were ordered for her delectation, including a share of a +pint of champagne, which Tabitha averred was sinful, though she sinned +with satisfaction. A beautiful gold watch was given her to replace the +fat-faced silver bulb, precious in Miss Cone's eyes as once the property +of the long-drowned mariner, but which of late years had acquired the +eccentric characteristics of the famous time-piece of the elder Weller; +and at last when the time came to say "good-night," Tabitha must be +kissed and hugged. But the last proceeding was too much for the maiden's +discretion. "What is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tabby, I'm so happy." And then, ashamed, and afraid of having said +too much, Natalie escaped to her own room.</p> + +<p>And there read again the letter which she had received that morning, and +which she had furtively read many times during the day. She knew it by +heart, but she liked to read the words written by her lover's hand.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Natalie—The decree is granted. The words, 'I love you' +have been on my lips so long, that they must find utterance. I +repeat them, if not with lips, yet in my heart every moment of +the day. Write or telegraph me the date of your arrival at the +White House. I would rather have a letter; in a letter you can +say that you love me. Shall it be a letter?</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mark.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>To this she had answered by telegraph: "I write to-night." He was in +Philadelphia, and until the evening of the following day she would be +unable to leave for home. He would receive her letter in time to get to +Stormpoint soon after her arrival in Easthampton. He desired a letter; +he should have a letter.</p> + +<p>Yet it was hard to write. It had been easy to whisper to herself such +phrases as "Mark, dear Mark, I love you, I love you"; but it was less +easy to set those words down on paper, though there was a joy in it, +too. The difficulty of writing them vanished when they were for her own +eye only, not to be mailed. And so she scribbled over sheet after sheet +of paper: "Mark, Dear Mark, My Love, My Own, My Lover"—such words and +many others she wrote, blushing, smiling; at times not seeing what she +wrote for the tears in her eyes. At last she roused herself from this +foolish play and wrote a proper letter.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Mark—How good you have always been! I shall arrive home +on Saturday morning. I long to see you. Dear Mark, I love you."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The last phrase was hurriedly written and had required resolution, but +she was happier for having written it. She sealed the letter that she +might not be tempted in the morning to substitute another. Then she went +to bed, and all the night through her face was the mirror of her +pleasant dreams. No shadow of the future was upon her as she slept +smiling.</p> + +<p>And awoke with the smile upon her face, and in a low voice sang while +dressing. Her toilet concluded, she took her letter from the table, +kissed it shyly, and placed it in her bosom. She would mail it as she +went downstairs.</p> + +<p>A knock at her door and the announcement of a visitor—a lady who had +business of importance. Natalie ordered that the lady be shown into her +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>On entering the sitting-room she found Berthe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<h3>HER GUILTY CONSCIENCE CRIED: "BEHOLD YOUR HANDIWORK."</h3> + + +<p>Natalie saw all things through the halo of the rosy hopes that now +encompassed her. "Berthe!" she exclaimed, both hands extended in +welcome, "I thought you had gone to France. Mrs. Leon told me so—but, +how is this? You look pale and ill?"</p> + +<p>Pale and ill she was, but no illness would have deterred her from making +the appeal she had come to make.</p> + +<p>Since his return to America, Leonard had indulged in drink more +recklessly than ever, and Berthe, though conscious of the value to +herself of the divorce, had dreaded the granting of the decree. For the +prospect of being bound to this lost creature filled her with aversion.</p> + +<p>Conscience makes cowards of us all, and Berthe feared the man. Not that +he had shown any inclination for violence toward her, though he had long +been irritable and disposed to quarrel on slight provocation. She did +not fear his hand; it was his presence. The sodden spectacle was +becoming a weight upon her soul, an accusation beyond her strength to +bear. She had loved him, loved him even now, and her guilty conscience +cried incessantly, "Behold your handiwork!"</p> + +<p>On the day when Natalie had petted Tabitha, she had for the first time +lived in fear, even of his hand. Early that morning she had noticed that +his speech was tremulous and uncertain, though he drank less than usual. +He dozed constantly, often waking with a cry of terror; and then his +whole frame would tremble as he gazed with eyes of hate and horror at +herself, or at some invisible yet dreadful object near her, muttering +incoherent phrases indicating fear. Again he would doze, again awake and +the scene would be repeated. With each new seizure his action became +more violent, while the nameless horror that was upon him communicated +itself to her. At last she sent for a physician, but not until there had +been a wild outbreak. He had clutched her by the throat: "Devil!" he +shouted, "you shall not take me to hell; I am of the elect, a Claghorn! +Down, fiend!" She had cowered in fear, and he had saved her life by +fainting.</p> + +<p>The doctor easily diagnosed the case. Berthe's willingness to pay for +the services of two male nurses, and the fear that any disturbance might +entail a frantic outbreak and death, were the considerations that +restrained the physician from ordering the patient's removal to a +hospital.</p> + +<p>The convulsions of the stricken man were frightful; his shrieks, his +wailing prayers for deliverance from hell—these appalled the woman, +filling her with apprehension akin to that of the raving victim. His +calls for Natalie were most piteous, wails of anguish that pierced the +heart of the woman that had loved him, and whose moans answered his +incessant repetition of the name of one, lacking whose forgiveness he +must face the horrors of the damned. The unending utterance of the name, +never ceasing even when at last he sank into the stupor of exhaustion +and of opiates, attracted the attention of the physician, who told +Berthe that while he believed the case hopeless, possible good might be +effected by the presence of the person without whom it seemed as though +the man could not even die.</p> + +<p>The awful fear that he would die, his last wish ungratified, wherefore, +in her belief, his restless soul would haunt all her future days; this, +added to the pity for the man she still loved, who had rescued her from +misery, whose head had lain upon her bosom, nerved her to carry out the +resolve she had taken. She knew that no messenger could effect the +purpose; she must assume the task herself. It was not without a pang +that she determined upon a mission which, if successful, must involve +her desertion of the dying man; but, though she did not forget such +jewels as she possessed or to collect all the money that remained, her +flight was nevertheless intended as such expiation as she could make.</p> + +<p>She hoped, though she could not be sure, that her identity as Leonard's +companion was not known to Natalie; but she assumed that Mrs. Leon had +given information as to other misconduct, and she expected to be met +with cold disapproval, if, indeed, she were received at all. But instead +of disapproval she was encountered with outstretched hands and their +friendly pressure; and, as with this reception there came upon her the +recollection of the sweet graciousness of her former mistress, and with +it the consciousness of her requital of the kindness of past days, her +heart was like to fail.</p> + +<p>"I bring you a message," she gasped, "from your husband."</p> + +<p>"My husband!" For the moment Natalie forgot that she had no husband. +Then the recollection came upon her, and with it a premonition of evil. +She was as pale as Berthe, as she stood, looking at her visitor, +bewildered and afraid.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she exclaimed, as Berthe was about to speak. "What can you know +of him you call my husband? He left me, abandoned me for a wicked woman. +He wrote me confessing his shame, but not his fault. Again he wrote, +insinuating wicked deeds of me, and threatening me. Since two days he is +no more my husband; I can receive no message."</p> + +<p>"He is dying!"</p> + +<p>The red flush which had displaced the pallor of Natalie's cheek +disappeared. Again her face grew pale; she stared at Berthe.</p> + +<p>"Listen," faltered the Frenchwoman. "He wronged you, yet he loved you +always, has loved you till this hour, and cannot die without your +forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"Take it to him——Dying! Leonard, Leonard!" She covered her face.</p> + +<p>"I was maid to the woman he went away with," continued Berthe, "and so I +came to know his story. The woman has been kind to him—let her pass, +then"—seeing that her listener shuddered. "The man is dying. He moans +and wails for you—for you. The woman herself begged me to come for you. +He fears" (her face grew whiter) "he fears the fires of hell, but he +will not have a priest. Only you can rescue him—your pardon—he cannot +die without it." She broke down. All else she might have borne upon her +conscience; but she could not bear that he should go unshriven.</p> + +<p>At the mention of the fires of hell Natalie was conquered. "Take me to +him," she said.</p> + +<p>"Follow me in half an hour," Berthe rose as she spoke, handing a written +address to Natalie.</p> + +<p>"But no time must be lost——"</p> + +<p>"In half an hour," repeated Berthe. "Give her—the woman—time to get +away." And then she passed out of the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<h3>"I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIM, SO HELP ME GOD IN HEAVEN."</h3> + + +<p>"Natalie." He stirred uneasily, muttering the word, which since her +coming he had not uttered; then, as she lightly pressed the hand she +held, he slept again. So she had sat for hours beside his bed.</p> + +<p>The physician had prepared her for the sight that had met her eyes. From +Tabitha, who was with her, he had gleaned some knowledge of the facts. +Tabitha, still ignorant of the granting of the decree, had assured him +that the visitor was the wife of Leonard Claghorn.</p> + +<p>"Poor woman, she will need her courage," he said. "The other one has +gone. As for the wife, if she can bear it, I would have her sit beside +him so that he can see her when he wakes."</p> + +<p>So there she had taken her place, beside the man whom the law had +decreed was no more to her than any other. But death mocks law. Dying, +he was so much to her that no hand but hers should smooth his pillow.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the nature of the disease, perhaps the deep exhaustion, had made +a great change in his appearance. The bloated aspect of his face was +gone, and even a greater beauty than the beauty of his youth and +innocence was apparent. But it was the beauty of ruin. The face was +marble, yet lined with the deep furrows of sorrow and remorse. The hair +was gray at the temples, the cheeks were hollow and the mouth was drawn. +It was Leonard, the man whose head had lain upon her bosom, the father +of her child—the same, yet oh, how changed!</p> + +<p>"Natalie!"</p> + +<p>She bent toward him. He essayed to lift her hand to his lips; she placed +it on his brow.</p> + +<p>"I have had a dream," he whispered, "a dreadful dream!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Leonard. You must sleep."</p> + +<p>He feebly raised his arm and tried to draw her to him. Slowly she bent +toward him, falling on her knees beside the bed. His arm was now about +her neck; he drew her cheek to his.</p> + +<p>"My wife!" He uttered the words with a long-drawn sigh, of such sweet +content that in that sigh she believed he had breathed his life out. +Soon he spoke again. "Now I can sleep," he said, and freed her from his +embrace. She rose gently and stood watching him; he slept without the +stertorous breathing of before. Looking up, she saw the physician in the +doorway. He beckoned to her. She rose and quietly left the room.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said the doctor, "this is wonderful. That natural sleep may +portend recovery."</p> + +<p>"Then I can go," she said.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at her gravely, not approvingly. But it was not as he +supposed; she was not hard-hearted; but the woman! Leonard had written +that his conscience and his honor demanded that he marry the woman. If +he were to live, there was no place at his bedside for her, who had once +been his wife.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Claghorn," said the doctor, "your companion, Miss—ah—Miss Cone, +has informed me of the existing relations between you and your husband. +As a stranger I can give no advice, can only tell you that the woman who +has been his companion has left your husband forever."</p> + +<p>"Left him to die!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Precisely. It need not surprise you. It is barbarous; but such women +are barbarous. I shall be surprised if one who has displayed so much +magnanimity should fail now. Pardon me, Mrs. Claghorn, but your place is +by your husband's side. One woman has basely left him to die. Should you +leave him now, you repeat the act."</p> + +<p>The doctor silently withdrew. Natalie sank into a chair. Her mind was +confused. Her place by her husband's side! Had she then a husband? The +scenes in which she had been an actor had numbed her faculties, strained +by the long watch by the bedside she had left. A feeling of suffocation +was stealing over her; instinctively she loosened her dress at the +throat. The letter she had written to Mark fell upon the floor, and she +sat staring at it, dumb.</p> + +<p>It became evident that her husband, as all in the house believed him to +be, would live. Over and over again the doctor congratulated her on the +wonderful influence of her presence upon the sick man. Naturally, he was +glad to have rescued a patient from the very jaws of death; and though, +since he had learned more of her history from Tabitha Cone, he had +slight sympathy for the man, yet he believed that even under the +untoward circumstances existing, forgiveness and reconciliation was the +course which promised most for future happiness.</p> + +<p>"It is the best thing for her," he said to Tabitha. "She will withdraw +the divorce proceedings and forgive him. She can never be happy unless +she does."</p> + +<p>Tabitha, though sure that she herself would never have forgiven her +mariner under similar circumstances, which, however, she admitted were +unthinkable in that connection, agreed with the physician.</p> + +<p>"He will be long in getting well," said the physician; "if, indeed, he +ever recovers completely. If he has the heart of a man he must +appreciate what she has done for him; literally brought him back to +life."</p> + +<p>"He was a good man, once," observed Tabitha, her eyes filling. "Oh, +Doctor! The most beautiful, the sweetest; the most frank and loving +boy——"</p> + +<p>"And a brilliant theologian, you tell me. Well, well, Miss Cone, in my +profession we learn charity. It is astounding what an evil influence +some women can gain over men. And this one was not even beautiful."</p> + +<p>"The hussy!"</p> + +<p>"Quite so. Ah, Miss Cone, our sex must ever be on guard," and the doctor +laughed a little. He was feeling triumphant over the recovery of his +patient.</p> + +<p>Yet in watching that recovery his face was often very grave. Natalie was +sharp-eyed. "Is your patient getting well?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He improves hourly," was the answer, but the tone was not cheerful. He +looked at Natalie anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Physically, yes. His mind, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"His mental faculties are failing fast."</p> + +<p>"How long has this been going on?" He was surprised at her equable +tones. Evidently she had nerved herself for this disclosure.</p> + +<p>"A brave woman," he thought.</p> + +<p>"That is a hard question to answer."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it the result of drink? He had never touched liquor two +years since."</p> + +<p>"I should hardly ascribe it to liquor entirely. Doubtless, +over-indulgence of that nature has been a force, a great force. The +delirium in which you found him may be directly ascribed to drink."</p> + +<p>"If he had been greatly harassed, say two years since, having been up to +that time a good man—if then he had suddenly fallen into evil—would +you ascribe such a fall to the mental strain consequent upon the worry I +have suggested?"</p> + +<p>"She seeks every palliation for him," thought the doctor. "Madam, I +should say that in the case of a man, such as you have pictured, a +sudden lapse into evil courses, courses which belied his training and +previous life——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" She was looking steadfastly at him. He little knew the resolve +that hung upon his words.</p> + +<p>"I should say he was not wholly responsible. I should attribute much to +the worry, the vexations, to which you have alluded."</p> + +<p>With all her firmness she shrank as from a blow. Thinking to comfort +her, he had driven a knife into her heart.</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear Mrs. Claghorn, since we are upon this subject—a +subject from which I admit I have shrunk—let me tender you some advice. +You have saved your husband's life; let that be your solace. It will not +be for his happiness that you sacrifice your own."</p> + +<p>"Go on," she said, seeing that he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"After awhile—not now," he said, "but after your presence is less +necessary to him, you must let me aid you to place him in an +establishment where he will have every care——"</p> + +<p>"An asylum?"</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded.</p> + +<p>"I will never leave him, so help me God in heaven! Never, never, Mark, +my darling, for I, and only I, brought him to this pass!" She cried +these words aloud, her hand upraised to heaven.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<h3>MONEY, HEAPS OF MONEY.</h3> + + +<p>Mark Claghorn, standing by the window of that room at Stormpoint which +was especially set aside as his own, but which, in its luxurious +fittings, bore rather the traces of the all-swaying hand of the mistress +of the mansion, gazed moodily out toward the tomb, speculating, perhaps, +as to the present occupation of the soul that had once been caged in the +bones that crumbled there.</p> + +<p>To whom entered Mrs. Joe, who silently contemplated him awhile, and +then, approaching, touched his shoulder. He turned and smiled, an act +becoming rare with him. "Mark," she said, "I am getting old."</p> + +<p>"You look as young as my sister might," he said.</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense," but she smiled, too. Barring some exaggeration, she +knew that his words were true.</p> + +<p>"Even so," she urged seriously, "you have wandered enough. You might +stay here for my sake."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I will stay here for your sake."</p> + +<p>"Only that, my son? You know I want more than that."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "you want too much. Let us have it out. Believe me, your +pleasant dream of a political career for me is hopeless. Granted that I +could buy my way to high office—though I do not think so—could I ever +respect myself, or command respect? Where, then, would be the honor?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of buying."</p> + +<p>"No, not in plain terms. But at my age, together with the fact that I am +a stranger, at least a newcomer, in this State, money would be my only +resource—perhaps a hopeless one, in any case. The rich man must learn +his lesson, which is, that wealth bars the way to honor."</p> + +<p>"Our senior Senator is rich."</p> + +<p>"I do not speak of moderately rich men. Suspicion is even directed +(unjustly, I believe) against such men. But the whole State knows that, +politically, our Senator has risen from the ranks. Perhaps he has been +compelled to buy that which is his due—who can tell? But all know that +at least he has earned the distinction he has won."</p> + +<p>"And could you not earn it?"</p> + +<p>"No. I am not merely moderately rich. I should be 'held up' by every +rogue that glories in the name of politician. If I refused to buy, and +refuse I must, I should have no chance whatever. Gold besmirches many +things. A rich man is of necessity defiled, let him keep his hands as +clean as he can."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe sighed.</p> + +<p>"You have not been willing to realize the facts which influence my +life," he went on. "We must look facts in the face. Political +distinction is not for me. For your sake I would try, were I not assured +that your disappointment would be inevitable. He laid his hand upon her +shoulder. He spoke very kindly.</p> + +<p>"Mark," she said—there were tears in her eyes—"I wish you were happy."</p> + +<p>"If I am content——"</p> + +<p>"But you are not. Oh, Mark, seek happiness. Marry."</p> + +<p>He smiled grimly. "I wish I could," he said.</p> + +<p>"Mark, you say my dream is hopeless. I surrender it. Is yours less +hopeless? You wear your life away. Is it worthy to wait for a man to +die?"</p> + +<p>He made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Dear," she said, and the word moved him deeply, for though he knew how +much he was beloved of his mother, a term of tenderness was rare from +her lips—"Dear, you know what she wrote me."</p> + +<p>"You showed me the letter. She gave me the same advice long ago."</p> + +<p>"It is the right thing to do. Paula loves you. Natalie is lost to you. +You do not know where she is; she does not intend that you shall know. +She will not marry you now, even though death were to free her from the +bonds she has assumed. She is right. Mind, Mark, I say no word of +censure. I believe in her purity as I do in Paula's—but the world will +talk. That which she has done cannot be kept secret, but her motive must +remain a secret. Had the man died——"</p> + +<p>"Enough!" he said sternly. "You say you believe in her as you do in +Paula. No shadow of suspicion can ever cross my mind or yours. We need +not consider the world——"</p> + +<p>"But, my son, she will consider it. She does consider it. Her letter to +me shows it. That letter was no easy one for a woman to write. Do you +think she would even indirectly have disclosed your secret to me, except +that she believed it necessary for your good? I do not doubt, Mark, that +she has renounced your love even to you. Is it not unworthy to——"</p> + +<p>"To love without hope? Perhaps it is. But since the fact is not +generally known—here, as in some other things, the sin consists in +being found out." He laughed. "You know you didn't find out; you were +told."</p> + +<p>"Yes; in the hope, I verily believe, that the disclosure would wound you +and so kill your love."</p> + +<p>"It wounded, certainly," he said bitterly. "Perhaps, if you give it +time, the wound may yet be as fatal as you wish—as she wished." He +laughed again very grimly. "Strange creatures, women," he said. "Their +self-sacrifice includes the sacrifice of every one but self."</p> + +<p>"That is cruel! From no possible point of view can her life be a happy +one."</p> + +<p>"How you quarrel about a man and cling together against a man!" he said, +smiling down upon the lady, who had no other answer than the shrug +which, when it moves feminine shoulders, implies that masculine density +is impenetrable. His smile broke into laughter.</p> + +<p>It aroused her secret indignation; but encouraged her, too. If he could +laugh, her case was not hopeless.</p> + +<p>"Mark, let us be sensible. You should marry and have children. What else +is open to you, the rich man? You have no faith in the world, none in +friendship, none in love. Consider what your life must be if, at this +age, all purer sources of feeling are dried up! In marriage you will +find them all reopened. Your family will be your world. You need +children. I need them. We are rich; yes, horribly rich. What is all this +worth to us? You are the last of a race, honorable since the tenant of +yonder grave first set foot upon this soil; honorable before that time. +Shall that race die in you? My son, that old-world notion of Family is +estimable. This country needs that it be cherished. The wealth will not +be so new in the next generation. Your sons will not be strangers in the +land of their fathers. You shall so train them that in them you shall +reap the distinction denied to you. You say I am yet young. I am not +old, and may still live to see my grandsons honored by their fellow men. +By your own confession nothing remains to you but marriage. Love is +offered you daily, by one most sweet and most lovable. Paula——"</p> + +<p>He stopped her by a gesture. Her unwonted energy had impressed him. She +had spoken well. "You have uttered many truths," he said, "but what you +say of Paula is not kind, nor do you know——"</p> + +<p>"Mark! on my honor as a woman, I believe that Paula loves you." Then she +left him.</p> + +<p>He remained long musing. Why should he not make his mother happy? It was +true, waiting for a man to die was a pitiful occupation. And even should +the man die there would be no hope for him. It was a year since Natalie +had hidden herself with her burden and Tabitha Cone. Hidden herself, as +he well knew, from him. She had written both him and his mother. She had +not feared to again acknowledge her love; but she had prayed him to +forget her. And she had told him that Paula loved him; she had shown him +that his duty required him to love Paula in return; finally, she had, +almost sternly, bade him cease to hope.</p> + +<p>Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps Paula loved him—as much as she +could love. He loved her in the same cool fashion. He was used to her. +She was very beautiful, completely amiable, kind and gentle. Not very +brilliant, yet if simple-minded, not a fool. Marriage would bring out +all there was of Paula, and that might be much more than was generally +suspected. And whatever it was it would be lovable. He knew he was +living the life of a fool. Why live that life consciously? Why not make +his mother completely happy; Paula and himself happier; as happy as they +could be?</p> + +<p>He turned to his desk and opened a hidden drawer therein. From this he +took a small packet of papers. "A man about to die or marry should set +his house in order," he muttered, as he spread the papers open. There +was the first letter Natalie had ever written him; a reply to his letter +of condolence concerning her father's death. He glanced over it and +slowly tore it into fragments. He did the same with the few others +written by her, all except the last he had received. This was in answer +to a letter into which he had thrown all the strength of his soul, +lowering, if not completely breaking down, the last barriers of reserve +behind which those who feel deeply hide their hearts.</p> + +<p>He could not complain that in her answer she had not been equally frank. +"From the innermost depths of my soul I love you, and if more can be, I +honor you still more—and because I so love and honor you I must not see +you again. I have loved you since the day I first saw you in the +Odenwald. I loved you when I became the betrothed of another. I hoped +then you would find a way to free me from the promise I had given. I +aver before Heaven that I tried with all my strength to be a faithful +wife. I loved my husband; alas! not as I know now, with a wife's love, +but I believed it. Yet—let me confess it—at the very bottom of my +heart slept my love for you, not dead as I had thought it. I have sinned +against you, against him who was my husband, against myself. We must all +suffer for my sin. You are strong. I must gather all the strength I can +for the duty that my guilt has laid upon me—to bear my fate and to make +a ruined life as endurable as unremitting care can make it. My sin was +great. Consider my expiation! I must always see before my eyes my +handiwork.</p> + +<p>"You love me. Do you think that ever a doubt of your love crosses my +mind? You will always love me. I know it. But, if you see me no more +that love will, in time, become a tender reminiscence—not worth a tear, +rather a smile—of pity let it be, for the lives that are wrecked. But +from this day forth let your own life present a fair ideal to be +realized. One has grown up beside you whose fate is in your hands. The +fashioning of her destiny lies with you. To be a happy wife and mother, +the lot for which nature intended her, or to live the barren life of a +religious devotee; and knowing her as I do, I know that for you, +embittered and distrustful by reason of your burden of inordinate +wealth, she is supremely fitted to make your life serene and cheerful in +return for the felicity you will bring to her.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, for the last time. I shall not forget you, but shall love you as +long as I live, and as warmly as I love you now. But deliberately, and +with unalterable resolve, I have chosen my lot. Nothing, not even the +hand of death, can render me fit to be more to you than the memory of +one who has lived her life."</p> + +<p>He slowly tore the letter into fragments as he had torn the others. +Perhaps his mouth twitched as he did so. He looked upon the little heap +of paper on his desk. "The Romance of a Rich Young Man," he muttered, +and smiled at the conceit. Then he gathered the fragments in his hand +and strewed them upon some tinder in the chimney and applied a match. +"Gone up in Smoke," he said aloud.</p> + +<p>"Did you speak?" asked his mother, who had entered the room.</p> + +<p>"I repeated the title of a novel I am going to write," he said. "I +wanted to hear how it would sound."</p> + +<p>"You must live a romance before you can write one, Mark."</p> + +<p>"True," he answered dryly. "I need experience. Where is Paula?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mark!"</p> + +<p>He kissed her. "Yes," he said, "I will do what I can to make you happy, +and—gain experience."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe's eyes beamed through her tears.</p> + +<p>"She is in the library."</p> + +<p>Leaving the room by the window, which opened upon a veranda, he walked +toward the library, the windows of which opened upon the same veranda.</p> + +<p>The library windows were divided in the centre, like doors. They were +open now, and the thick French plate reflected like a mirror. In the +open window pane he saw, as in a mirror, a portion of the interior. +Paula was there, and Paula's head nestled against the breast of Father +Cameril, and the good Father's arm encircled her while his lips pressed +hers.</p> + +<p>Mark stole silently away.</p> + +<p>He found Mrs. Joe awaiting him in the room he had left. "Be very kind to +her, mother," he said. "She will have something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"But you have been so quick——"</p> + +<p>He smiled. "I shall not be the hero of the tale. Father Cameril is the +lucky man. After all, it is better. I could not have made her happy as +she deserves to be. I am glad I was prevented from offering her——" He +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Your heart," said Mrs. Joe.</p> + +<p>"An insult," he answered curtly, as he left the room, strolling toward +Eliphalet's tomb.</p> + +<p>And at Eliphalet's tomb he recognized that Natalie had been wise. Now +that it was lost to him he knew that his last long-neglected chance for +happiness was gone. Happiness! Perhaps the word meant too much, but in +Paula's companionship he could at least have found, in time, contentment +and cheerfulness, and are these not happiness, the highest happiness? +What now was left him? Money, heaps of money! It barred the way to +honorable ambition; its heavy weight lay on his heart, breeding therein +suspicion of the love or friendship of all men and women. For him life +must be a solitude. He could never lie beside a wife assured that he had +won her for himself. He knew that the deadly poison of distrust must +ever and ever more thoroughly taint his being, distorting his vision and +rendering the aspect of all things hateful. Yet how many thousand men, +whose clothes and dinners were assured them, would be glad to change +places with him! "But all I have are clothes and food," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"We are all poor critters!" Deacon Bedott had spoken words of wisdom. +"But the poorest of all is the Rich Man, Deacon," he said.</p> + +<p>And then bethought him that by this time Paula and Father Cameril would +have made their great announcement. "Little Paula!" he murmured. "Well, +she shall have joyous wedding bells, at least, and smiling faces. For +the rest let the fond Father look to it!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + +<h3>WEDDING BELLS.</h3> + + +<p>The summer sun beat pitilessly upon the burnished cobble stones, driving +from the crooked street all except the geese, and even these only +languidly stretched their necks, hissing inhospitably at the heels of +the dusty wayfarer, the sole object of interest to the landlord of the +Red-Ox, who stood in the gateway of his hostelry and blinked in the +glare of the sun. "Too old for a student," he muttered, "and no +spectacles. Perhaps an artist." As the pedestrian came nearer a puzzled +gleam, half of recognition, spread over his features. The dusty traveler +stopped. "And so you are here yet!" and he slapped the broad shoulder of +the host.</p> + +<p>"Here yet, and hope to be for many a year to come," answered the fat +host; "and you are here, not for the first time, I dare swear; but who +you are, or when you last were here——</p> + +<p>"That you can't recall. Why should you?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ein Amerikaner!</i> A <i>studiosus juris</i>, of the Pestilentia. <i>Ein alter +Bursch</i> of ten years back! Remember? Surely, all but the name."</p> + +<p>"And what's in a name?" shaking the offered hand of the landlord. "Mine +is a mouthful for you—Claghorn."</p> + +<p>"<i>Herr Doktor</i> Clokhorn. That's it. Not so great a mouthful after all." +He led the way into the well-remembered garden. "Many a schoppen have +you had here," he said; "and many a time sung '<i>Alter Burschen +Herrlichkeit</i>' at this very table, and many trout——"</p> + +<p>"Devoured," interrupted Mark. "That pastime will bear repetition. As for +singing, one loses the desire."</p> + +<p>"Not so," observed the fat host. "I am sixty, but I lead the Liederkranz +to-day. Wine, woman and song—you know what Luther said——"</p> + +<p>"I remember. But not even the Great Reformer's poetry is to be taken +too literally. We'll discuss the point later on. Now some trout, then a +pipe and a gossip."</p> + +<p>When the host departed to attend to the order, Mark unstrapped his +knapsack and looked about him.</p> + +<p>He had come thousands of miles to see this garden! He admitted the +foolish fact to himself, though even to his mother he would have denied +it. The fat host was right; he had drunk many a flask of wine in this +place, roared in many a chorus, had danced many a waltz with village +maidens on yonder platform; but of these various scenes of his student +days he had not thought until his host recalled them. They were +memories, even memories with some of that tender sadness which renders +such memories pleasant, but such as they would never have drawn him +here.</p> + +<p>And now that he was here, so sharp a pain was in his heart that he +recognized his folly. The wound was yet too new. He should have waited a +decade or more. Then he might have found solace in recalling her to his +mind, here where first he had seen her; he, in all the arrogant pride of +youth; she, with all the fresh beauty of a school girl. Now no effort +was needed to recall her to his memory—she was ever present.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he enjoyed his fish and his wine. "A superlative vintage," +said the host, who had had time to recall his guest more distinctly, and +who remembered that in past days <i>Studiosus Clokhorn</i> had dispensed +money with a liberal hand.</p> + +<p>"And so the inn has been enlarged," said Mark, looking about him. "That +means prosperity."</p> + +<p>"Forellenbach is becoming a resort," replied the host. "We have parties +that remain for days. We have strangers here at this moment."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" was the sleepy comment.</p> + +<p>"Yes; three ladies. Or rather, two ladies and a maid. Mother and +daughter—English."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Mark again.</p> + +<p>At this point the host, rather to the relief of his guest, was called +away, and Mark adjusted himself upon the bench and dozed. A long tramp, +and perhaps the superlative vintage, had made him sleepy.</p> + +<p>When he awoke, sunset shadows were about him. He was vexed, having +intended to walk on to Heidelberg, which now he must do in part after +dark. However, a walk by night might be pleasanter than had been the +tramp under the sun. Before leaving he would look about. It was not +likely that he would ever again see a place which would dwell always in +his memory.</p> + +<p>As he neared the cave where the echo dwelt he saw the slender figure of +a woman. Her back was toward him, but the garb and mien proclaimed one, +not a permanent resident of the village. "One of mine host's guests," he +murmured, "a <i>gnädige Frau</i> of artistic taste and economical practice." +He paused, unwilling to disturb feminine meditation. The stranger stood +at the entrance to the cave, on the spot where first he had seen the +girl who, later, had become the one woman in the world to him. There was +something in her attitude, bent head and arms hanging listless, that +interested, even moved him. She, too, looked like some lonely being, +saying a last farewell at a shrine where love had been born; and then, +as she strolled away, hidden by overhanging boughs of trees and the +slowly deepening evening shadows, he smiled at his conceit.</p> + +<p>He strolled on to where she had been standing, for, though he smiled +cynically at his foolishness, the spot was to him a sacred one. If +sentimental folly had brought him a thousand leagues, it might well +control a few steps more.</p> + +<p>As he reached the place he came face to face with another woman, whose +old but sharp eyes recognized him instantly. "Mr. Mark!"</p> + +<p>"Tabby!" He was so astonished that he could say no more for a moment. +Then he found words: "Was that Natalie?"</p> + +<p>Miss Cone, though slightly hysterical from pleasure and surprise, +explained that Natalie had just left her. "But what brings you here?" +she added.</p> + +<p>"Heaven or fate," was the answer. And then he was for following Natalie +at once. But Tabitha restrained him. "Let me prepare her," she urged, +and to that plea she found him willing to listen.</p> + +<p>Then she told him the story of their wanderings. They had brought +Leonard to Europe, principally for the voyage, which, however, had been +of no benefit. They had remained in Ireland, near Londonderry, where +they had first landed. He had never been able to move, but passed his +life in a wheeled chair. His mind had been that of an infant, though +before he died he seemed to have gleams of intelligence, and had once in +an old churchyard expressed a wish to be buried there, or so Natalie had +interpreted his babbling. And there he had slept for a year. "And so," +sobbed Tabitha, "the poor boy's weary life is over at last. God bless +him!"</p> + +<p>"Amen to that," said Mark. "Tabitha! It has been a grief to me, God +knows. So heavy a sorrow that I have thought I could not bear it; yet, +at this moment I can say that I am glad that Natalie forgave him and +cherished him till he died."</p> + +<p>Tabitha looked up. Her hard, worn old face was softened by her tears. +"Those words," she said, "will win her for you; if words can win the +heart already yours."</p> + +<p>At the appointed hour Tabitha led him to Natalie, who was waiting for +him. He could see the swaying of her form as she rose to greet him. He +took her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"My darling, my darling." He could say nothing else. Her arm had crept +upward about his neck; he held her close.</p> + +<p>"Why are you here?" he asked, at length, then added: "Bless God that you +are here."</p> + +<p>"To say good-bye to a place that has often been in my thoughts. And, +since heaven has permitted it, to say good-bye to you."</p> + +<p>"That you shall never say. I vow before God never to leave you. You and +I shall live our lives together, whatever your answer to the petition I +now make. Will you be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Mark, I am not——"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he said. "You once declared that as you loved me, so you honored +me. I now, with all solemnity, declare that you are honored as you are +loved by me. If I do not estimate the fault which you have expiated as +you do, I respect and admire the expiation. If you believe me to be a +truthful man, learn now that I approve your care of him who was your +husband. Let that suffice. And now, once more I swear that I will never +leave you. Will you be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Mark, I love you."</p> + +<p>"Then the wedding bells shall ring, and Forellenbach shall rejoice." +Their lips met, and in the kiss they forgot the years that had passed +since last they saw Forellenbach.</p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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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: Mr. Claghorn's Daughter + +Author: Hilary Trent + +Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35436] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Mr. Claghorn's Daughter. + + BY HILARY TRENT. + + + Copyright, 1903, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company + + All Rights Reserved. + + NEW YORK: + J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + 57 ROSE STREET. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. A Philosopher and a Marchioness + +II. Two Pagans Discuss Fish, Paris and the Higher Criticism + +III. A Cousin in the Coils of the Great Serpent + +IV. The Diversions of the Claghorns + +V. How a Pagan Philosopher Entered the Service of the Church + +VI. Art, Diplomacy, Love and Other Things + +VII. A Conference of Spinsters Concerning a Runaway Damsel + +VIII. A Maiden Fair, a Modern Early Father and a Theologian + +IX. The Advantages of Treading the Borderland of Vice + +X. A Youth of Promise, a Female Politician, and a Yellow Man + +XI. The Devil Walks To and Fro in Hampton + +XII. Her Eyes Grew Limpid and Her Cheeks Flushed Red + +XIII. Whereat Cynics and Matrons May Smile Incredulous + +XIV. In the White House--A Damsel or the Devil, Which? + +XV. Sur le Pont d'Avignon on y Danse, on y Danse + +XVI. Warblings in the White House and Snares for a Soul + +XVII. The Secret of Her Heart Was Never Told by Her to Him + +XVIII. A Lover Writes a Letter + +XIX. A Kiss that Might Have Lingered on His Lips While Seeking Entrance +at the Gate of Heaven + +XX. A Dishonest Veiling of a Woman's Heart + +XXI. A Man About to Meet a Maid + +XXII. Man Walketh in a Vain Shadow + +XXIII. A Parson Treads the Primrose Path in Paris + +XXIV. To Him I will be Henceforth True in All Things + +XXV. Mrs. Joe on Clerical Bumptiousness and Mrs. Fenton's Shoulders + +XXVI. Introduces Dr. Stanley, Satan and the Prayer Meeting of Matrons + +XXVII. The Music of the Chorus of the Anguish of the Damned + +XXVIII. Cursing and Beating Her Breast, She Falls Upon the Grave + +XXIX. Dr. Stanley Discourses Concerning the Diversions of the Saints + +XXX. Startling Effect of Dr. Burley's True Meaning + +XXXI. He Clasped Her Lithe Body with a Clutch of Fury + +XXXII. A Paean of Victory Hymned in Hell + +XXXIII. A Delectable Discussion in Which a Shakesperian Matron is Routed + +XXXIV. When Manhood is Lost Woman's Time is Come + +XXXV. A Bottle of Champagne + +XXXVI. She Cried Aloud She Was a Guilty Creature + +XXXVII. A Golden Bridge for Passage Across an Abyss of Shame + +XXXVIII. The Ruins of Her Air Castles Lay Around Her + +XXXIX. Voidable Vows of Turks (and Others) + +XL. Her Face Was the Mirror of Her Pleasant Dreams + +XLI. Her Guilty Conscience Cried, "Behold Your Handiwork" + +XLII. I Will Never Leave Him, So Help Me God! + +XLIII. Money, Heaps of Money + +XLIV. Wedding Bells + + + + +PREFACE. + + +Some readers of this novel will charge the author with the crime of +laying a sacrilegious hand upon the Ark of God; others will characterize +his work as an assault upon a windmill. + +I contend (and the fact, if it be a fact, is ample justification for +this book) that The Westminster Confession of Faith has driven many +honest souls to the gloom of unbelief, to the desperate need of a denial +of God; and that to-day a very large number of the adherents of that +Confession find it possible to maintain their faith in God only by +secret rejection of a creed they openly profess. + +Take from that Confession those Articles which give rise to the dilemma +which confronts the wife and mother of this story, and nothing is left. +The articles in question are the essential articles of the Confession. + +He who can in honesty say of The Westminster Confession of Faith: "This +is my standard: by this sign I shall conquer," he, and he only, has the +right to condemn my purpose. + +HILARY TRENT. + + + + +MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A PHILOSOPHER AND A MARCHIONESS. + + +Mr. (by preference Monsieur) Beverley Claghorn, of the Rue de la Paix, +Paris, was a personage of some note in that world in which he had lived +for many years. His slightly aquiline nose and well-pointed moustache, +his close-cropped grizzled hair, his gold-rimmed pince-nez, his hat, his +boots--his attire as a whole--successfully appealed to a refined taste. +The sapphire, encircled by tiny diamonds, which adorned his little +finger, beautiful to the common eye, was, in the eye of the connoisseur, +a rare and exquisite gem. Except as to an inch or two of stature, the +outward man of Monsieur Claghorn left nothing to be desired; while as to +his intellectual calibre, he to whom it was best known regarded it with +respect, even with admiration; his moral deportment had never occasioned +scandal; with the goods of this world he was liberally endowed. As a +philosopher (for he affected that character) he should have been a +contented man; being human, as philosophers must be, he was not. As +against the advantages indicated, Monsieur had grievances incompatible +with contentment. He was nearer sixty than forty, which was one cause of +sorrow; another was that, in spite of the effort of years, he had not in +fact become a Parisian. He had succeeded in approaching the type very +nearly; nevertheless, though his card might proclaim him "Monsieur" and +imply its owner to the Gallic manner born, the truth remained that he +was not so born. His language, by dint of effort, aided by native +talent, had become almost as easy and as idiomatic as the enunciations +of those who formed the world in which he dwelt, yet he was poignantly +aware that therein was still to be detected an echo of the twang of his +youth and of his native tongue. His surname, too, as a stumbling block +to his friends, was a source of vexation. Had he been born a Dobbins, a +mere apostrophe would have made him a d'Obbins and content. But the +uncompromising appellation of his ancestors refused to lend itself to a +fraud, though venial, and even ennobling, and thus remained a source of +repining; a gentle regret that his cognomen was not more fitting to his +environment. But as to his name received in baptism, therewith was +connected a grief so deep and a dread so great, that it was, perhaps, +the most baleful of his closeted skeletons. Fortune having so far +enabled Monsieur to hide the sorrow connected with his Christian name, +let us also leave the matter to fortune. + +To enumerate all the grievances of our philosopher would be a tedious +task, but there was one of such magnitude that it may be regarded as the +great grievance of his existence. This was Christianity. + +That earnest conviction of the truth of orthodox Christianity should +incite to propagandism is easily comprehensible. A reasonable sinner +will not complain of the believer's desire to save errant souls; indeed, +he may well be amazed that the believer engages in any other occupation. +But why the rage for proselytizing should inspire the non-believer is +less obvious. Why should the heathen rage because the zealot is deluded +by hope and his eyes deceived by the cheering illusions offered by +faith? If the rough road of the Christian wayfarer, its gloomy valleys +and dark caverns are smoothed and illumined by the cheering light of +conviction, why should the skeptic object, and beckon the fervent +pilgrim from his chosen path to that broader and more alluring road +selected by himself? Can it be that, like a boy who fears the coming +darkness, the skeptic craves companionship, suspecting hobgoblins after +sunset? + +Monsieur Claghorn was indignant that the world, as he knew it, either +professed a more or less orthodox belief in God, or cared nothing about +the matter. Both attitudes aroused his ire. + +"My dear Claghorn," urged his connexion, the Marquise de Fleury, "why +not leave these matters to Pere Martin, as I do? I assure you it is +comforting," and the little matron shrugged her rather sharp +shoulder-blades and nestled more snugly in the corner of her blue-silk +sofa. + +"It is degrading to the intellect." + +"Ah! The intellect--I have none; I am all soul." + +"You--the brightest woman in Paris!" + +"Too broad, _mon ami_. Exaggeration destroys the delicate flavor of a +compliment." + +"Louise, you are in a bad humor. Evidently, you don't like your gown." + +"The gown is ravishing, as you should have seen before this. It is you, +my friend, who are angry. To what end? Angry at nothing? That is +foolish. Angry at something? Considering that that Something is God----" + +"There you have it,--fear. Women rule men through their passions; and +priests rule women through their fears." + +"_Eh bien!_ Have it so. You deny God. It is daring--splendid--but what +do you gain, what do you gain, _mon ami_?" + +"I deny your impossible God, and in so doing, I retain my self-respect." + +"A valuable possession, doubtless. Yet the fact remains that you fight +windmills, or you fight the power that loosens the hurricane. Futile +warfare!" + +Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. A woman's argument is rarely worthy the +attention of a philosopher. + +"Behold," continued the little Marquise, "behold Pere Martin. He is +good; he is wise. What has he to gain? Only heaven. He sacrifices much +on earth--pleasure, dignity, power----" + +"He has more power than a king----" + +"Listen, my friend, and do not interrupt. If he has power over me and +such as I--which is what you mean--he uses it discreetly, kindly. I +enjoy life, I hope for heaven. You enjoy life, of heaven you have no +hope. Which of us is wise?" + +"You believe because you think it safer." + +"_Dame, mon ami!_ It costs nothing." + +"It is cowardly." + +"Ah, well, my friend, I am a coward. Let us discuss something less +gruesome. This charming Natalie! You will let her come to me, now that +she is to leave the barbarians?" + +"I, too, am a coward. I fear Pere Martin." + +"Believe me, my friend," said the Marquise, more seriously than she had +yet spoken, "you do wrong. Women need religion. They must adore; they +must sacrifice themselves to the object of their worship. As a rule they +have a choice. They may worship God or they may worship Love. To one or +the other they will devote themselves or miss their destiny. Which is +less dangerous?" + +"There is danger everywhere," replied the philosopher, discontentedly. +"But, indeed, Louise, this matter is more serious to me, the unbeliever, +than to you, the Christian. You Latins do not comprehend the reverence +we of a different race assign to principle. I think it wrong, immoral, +to expose my daughter to an atmosphere of falsehood." + +"Monsieur, you are unjust to us Latins; and worse, you are impolite." + +"I am serious. I think Christianity the curse of mankind." + +"And you object to it. That is magnanimous." + +"Natalie has been left in total ignorance of all religion." + +"Charming--but hardly _de rigueur_ for a de Fleury." + +"She is a Claghorn." + +"An excellent thing to be; enviable indeed, my dear,--in America. But +she will be a Parisienne; we hope a de Fleury, of a house by inheritance +religious. The wife of the Marquis de Fleury must uphold the family +traditions. Do you not see, my friend, that it is thirty generations of +nobles that insist." + +Monsieur Claghorn, though in doubt as to God, believed in the +generations. He had long looked forward to the time when his daughter +should be united to the last scion of this ancient race. True, the +title was in these days purely ornamental; but, though a philosopher, he +was not of that unwise class which can see no value in adornment. He +suspected that the noble Marquis, whose coronet he craved for his +daughter, as well as his mama, the little lady to whom he was talking, +were in truth as much interested in the material as in the spiritual +attributes of the future mother of the race, but he was also aware that +there were other influences to be considered. + +"Perhaps Pere Martin is even more insistent than the thirty +generations," he suggested. + +"Even so, my friend; when Pere Martin insists it is my conscience that +insists." + +"After all, Louise, this discussion is premature. Adolphe is still at +St. Cyr, Natalie at school----" + +"But to-day we prepare for to-morrow. Adolphe will soon be a lieutenant, +your daughter a woman. Let her come to me. Our prayers, those of Pere +Martin and mine, cannot harm her." + +"Assuredly not, still----" + +"But my good pagan, do you intend to refuse? Is it worth nothing to your +daughter to be introduced by the Marquise de Fleury?" + +It was worth so much that M. Claghorn had no intention of refusing. "And +Adolphe?" he asked. + +"Will remain at St. Cyr. Fear nothing, my friend. I shall do nothing in +that matter without consulting you." + +"You are always kind. It shall be as you wish." And then, after some +further indifferent conversation, the Marquise was by M. Claghorn handed +to her carriage for a promenade in the Bois; while the philosopher, +after that act of courtesy, left her to visit La Duchesne, a fashionable +seeress, who prophesied as to the course of stocks. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +TWO PAGANS DISCUSS FISH, PARIS AND THE HIGHER CRITICISM. + + +It was midsummer. The Marquise was in Brittany, Monsieur in Germany; or, +as Madame de Fleury patriotically expressed it, among the barbarians, he +having penetrated into barbaric wilds in order to reclaim his daughter, +whose education, for the past two years, had been progressing under +barbaric auspices. + +There is, not far from Heidelberg, and in that part of the country of +the barbarians known as the Odenwald, a quaint village called +Forellenbach; and hard by the village, which is clustered against a +steep hill-side, there dashes in cascades that foam and roar, a stream, +from the dark pools whereof are drawn trout, which, by the excellent +host of the Red-Ox are served hot, in a sauce compounded of white wine +and butter; and these things render the place forever memorable to him +who loves fish or scenery, or both. + +Monsieur Claghorn and his daughter were seated in the garden of the +Red-Ox. They had arrived at the inn in a carriage, being on their way to +Heidelberg. From Natalie's school they had journeyed by rail to Bad +Homburg; and from that resort, having despatched the girl's maid ahead +by train, they had commenced a mode of travel which Natalie secretly +hoped would not end as soon as had been originally anticipated; for the +trip thus far had been the most delightful experience of her life. + +There were reasons for this delight besides the joy derived from driving +in pleasant weather, over smooth roads, through curious villages, beside +winding rivers whose vineclad hills echoed the raftsman's song; beneath +the trees of many a forest, passing often the ruins of some grim keep, +which silently told to the girl its story of the time that, being past, +was a time of romance when life was more beautiful, more innocent, less +sordid than now. Not that Natalie knew much of the unpleasing features +of modern life, or of any life (else had her self-made pictures of other +days borne a different aspect), still the past had its attraction for +her, as it has for all that love to dream; and from her Baedeker she had +derived just enough information to form the basis of many a tender scene +that had never taken place, in days that never were or could have been. +Her dreams were not wholly of the past, but of the future as well; all +impossible and as charming as innocence and imagination could paint +them. School was behind her, her face toward France, a home fireside, +liberty and happiness for all time to come. No vision of the days in +which she had not lived could be more alluring than the visions of the +days in which she was to live, nor more delusive. + +Beverley Claghorn looking upon his daughter, perhaps, also saw a +visionary future. He loved her, of course. He respected her, too, for +had not her mother been of the ancient House of Fleury? It was no +ignoble blood which lent the damask tint to cheeks upon which he gazed +with complacent responsibility for their being. The precious fluid, +coursing beneath the fair skin, if carefully analyzed, should exhibit +corpuscles tinged with royal azure. For, was it not true that a +demoiselle of her mother's line had been, in ancient days, graciously +permitted to bear a son to a king of France, from which son a noble +House had sprung with the proud privilege of that bar sinister which +proclaimed its glory? These were facts well worthy to be the foundation +of a vision in which he saw the maid before him a wife of one of the old +noblesse; a mother of sons who would uphold the sacred cause of +Legitimacy, as their ancestors (including himself, for he was a furious +Legitimist) had done before them. It would solace the dreaded status of +grandfather. + +"What are you thinking of, Natalie?" he asked in French. + +"Of many things; principally that I am sorry he showed them to us." + +"The trout?" + +"Yes, I am so hungry." + +"They have sharpened your appetite. They are beautiful fish." + +"I'm glad they haven't spoiled it. Why, papa, they were alive! Did you +see their gills palpitate?" + +"They are very dead now." + +"And we shall eat them. It seems a pity." + +He laughed. "Grief will not prevent your enjoyment," he said; "you will +have a double luxury--of woe, and----" + +"You are ashamed of my capacity for eating, papa. It is very +unromantic." + +Papa smiled, raising his eyelids slightly. He seemed, and in fact was, a +little bored. "Haven't we had enough of this?" he asked. + +"But we haven't had any yet." + +"I don't mean trout--I only hope they won't be drowned in bad butter--I +mean of this," and he lazily stretched his arms, indicating the +Odenwald. + +She sighed. Her secret hope that the journey by carriage might be +extended further than planned was waning. "I was never so happy in my +life," she exclaimed. "I shall never forget the pine-forests, the hills, +the castles; nor the geese in the villages; nor the horrible little +cobblestones----" + +"Nor the sour wine----" + +"That is your French taste, papa. The _vin du pays_ is no better in +France. The wine is good enough, if you pay enough." + +"The Luetzelsachser is drinkable, the Affenthaler even good," admitted +Monsieur, indulgent to barbaric vintage; "but think of yesterday!" + +"Think of an epicure who expected to get Affenthaler in that poor little +village! They gave you the best they had." + +"Which was very bad." He laughed good-naturedly. "I dread a similar +experience if we continue this method of travel." + +"I could travel this way forever and forever!" She sighed and extended +her arms, then clasped her hands upon her breast. It was an unaffected +gesture of youth and pleasure and enthusiasm. + +It made him smile. "Wait until you have seen Paris," he said. + +"But I have seen Paris." + +"With the eyes of a child; now you are a woman." + +"That is so," somewhat dreamily, as though this womanhood were no new +subject of reverie. "I am eighteen--but why should Paris be especially +attractive to a woman?" + +"Paris is the world." + +"And so is this." + +"This, my dear----" the remonstrance on his lips was interrupted by the +arrival of the fish. + +They were very good: "_Ravissant!_" exclaimed Natalie, who displayed a +very pitiless appreciation of them. "Not so bad," admitted papa. + +"And so I am to stay with my cousin, the Marquise," said the girl, after +the cravings of an excellent appetite had been satisfied. "Papa, even +you can find no fault with this Deidesheimer," filling her glass as she +spoke. + +"With your cousin for a time, anyhow. It is very kind of her, and for +you nothing better could be wished. She sees the best world of Paris." + +"And as I remember, is personally very nice." + +"A charming woman--with a fault. She is devout." + +"I have known some like her," observed Natalie. "There was Fraeulein +Rothe, our drawing-mistress, a dear old lady, but very religious." + +"I hope none of them attempted to influence you in such matters," he +said, frowning slightly. + +"No. It was understood that you had expressly forbidden it. I was left +out of the religious classes; they called me 'The Pagan.'" + +"No harm in that," commented Monsieur rather approvingly. + +"Oh, no! It was all in good-nature. The Pagan was a favorite. But, of +course, I have had some curiosity. I have read a little of the Bible." +She made her confession shyly, as though anticipating reproach. + +"There is no objection to that," he said. "At your age you should have a +mind of your own. Use it and I have no fear as to the result. My view is +that in leaving you uninfluenced I have done my duty much more fully +than if I had early impressed upon you ideas which I think pernicious, +and which only the strongest minds can cast aside in later life. What +impression has your Bible reading left?" + +"The Jews of the Old Testament were savages, and their book is +unreadable for horrors. The Gospel narratives seem written by men of +another race. The character of Jesus is very noble. He must have lived, +for he could not have been invented by Jews. Of course, he was not God, +but I don't wonder that his followers thought so." + +"He was a Great Philosopher," answered Monsieur Claghorn with high +approval. "The incarnation of pure stoicism, realizing the ideal more +truly than even Seneca or Marcus. And what of the literary quality of +the book?" + +"The gospels are equal to the Vicar of Wakefield or Paul and Virginia. +As to the rest," she shrugged her shoulders after the French +fashion--"Revelation was written by a maniac." + +"Or a modern poet," observed the gentleman. + +Now while these latest exponents of the Higher Criticism were thus +complacently settling the literary standing of Luke and John, placing +them on as high a level as that attained by Goldsmith and St. Pierre, +the man smoking and the girl sipping wine (for the fish had been +devoured and their remains removed), two persons came into the garden. +They carried knapsacks and canes, wore heavy shoes, were dusty and +travel-stained. The elder of the pair had the clerical aspect; the youth +was simply a very handsome fellow of twenty or thereabout, somewhat +provincial in appearance. + +Beverley Claghorn glanced at the pair, and with an almost imperceptible +shrug of the shoulders, which, if it referred to the newcomers, was not +complimentary, continued to smoke without remark. The girl was more +curious. + +"They are English," she said. + +"Americans," he answered, with a faint shade of disapproval in his +tone. + +"But so are we," she remonstrated, noting the tone. + +"We can't help it," he replied, resenting one of his grievances. "You +can hardly be called one." + +"Is it disgraceful?" + +"Not at all; but I don't flaunt it." + +"But, papa, surely you are not ashamed of it?" + +"Certainly not. But it is a little tiresome. Our countrymen are so +oppressively patriotic. They demand of you that you glory in your +nativity. I don't. I am not proud of it. I shouldn't be proud of being +an Englishman, or a Frenchman, or an Italian, or----" + +"In fact, papa, you are not proud at all." + +"Natalie," proceeded the philosopher, not noticing the interruption, +"one may be well-disposed toward the country of one's birth; one may +even recognize the duty of fighting, if need be, for its institutions. +But the pretence of believing in one's country, of fulsome adoration for +imperfect institutions, is to welcome intellectual slavery, to surrender +to the base instinct of fetichism." + +"Like religion," she said, recognizing the phrase. + +"Like religion," he assented. "You will find when you are as old as I am +that I am right." + +"Yet people do believe in religion. There's Fraeulein Rothe----" + +"Natalie, no reasoning being can believe what is called Christianity, +but many beings think that they believe." + +"But why don't they discover that they don't think what they think they +think?" + +"There's nothing strange in that. When they were young they were told +that they believed, and have grown up with that conviction. The same +people would scorn to accept a new and incredible story on the evidence +which is presented in favor of the Christian religion." + +The girl sighed as though the paternal wisdom was somewhat +unsatisfactory. Meantime the slight raising of Monsieur's voice had +attracted the attention of the dusty wayfarers who, in default of other +occupation, took to observing the pair. + +"She is very pretty," said the youth. + +The elder did not answer. He was intently scrutinizing Beverley +Claghorn. After a moment of hesitation he surprised his companion by +rising and approaching that person with outstretched hand. + +"I cannot be mistaken," he exclaimed in a loud, hearty voice. "This is a +Claghorn." + +"That is my name," replied the would-be Gallic owner of the appellation +in English. "I have the honor of seeing----" but even as he uttered the +words he recognized the man who was now shaking a somewhat reluctant +hand with gushing heartiness. + +"I am Jared. You remember me, of course. I see it in your eyes. And so +this is really you--Eliphalet! 'Liph, as we called you at the old Sem. +'Liph, I am as glad to see you as a mother a long-lost son." + +"And I," replied the other, "am charmed." He bore it smiling, though his +daughter looked on in wonder, and he felt that the secret of his baptism +had been heartlessly disclosed. + +"This," said Jared, "is my son, Leonard," and while the son grew red and +bowed, the clergyman looked at the girl to whom his son's bow had been +principally directed. + +"My daughter, Natalie de Fleury-Claghorn," said her father. "My dear, +this is my cousin, Professor Claghorn, whom I have not seen for many +years." + +"Not since we were students together at Hampton Theological Seminary," +added Jared, smilingly. He habitually indulged in a broad smile that +indicated satisfaction with things as he found them. It was very broad +now, as he offered his hand, saying, "And so you are 'Liph's daughter, +and your name is Natalidaflurry--that must be French. And your mother, +my dear, I hope----" + +"My wife has been dead since my daughter's birth," interrupted Monsieur, +"and I," he added, "long ago discarded my baptismal name and assumed +that of my mother." + +"Discarded the old name!" exclaimed the Reverend Jared, surprised. "Had +I been aware of that, I surely would have given it to Leonard. I +regarded it, as in some sort, the property of the elder branch. Surely, +you don't call yourself Susan?" + +"My mother's name was Susan Beverley; I assumed her family name." The +philosopher uttered the words with a suavity that did him credit. Then, +apologetically, and in deference to his cousin's evident grief: "You +see, Eliphalet was somewhat of a mouthful for Frenchmen." + +"And so the old name has fallen into disuse," murmured Jared +regretfully. "We must revive it. Leonard, upon you----" + +But Leonard had taken Natalie to look at the cascades. + +So, lighting fresh cigars, the two former fellow-students commenced a +revival of old memories. Their discourse, especially on the part of the +clergyman, contained frequent allusion to family history, which to the +reader would be both uninteresting and incomprehensible. But, since some +knowledge of that history is requisite to the due understanding of the +tale that is to be told, the respected personage indicated is now +invited to partake of that knowledge. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A COUSIN IN THE COILS OF THE GREAT SERPENT. + + +Professor and the Reverend Jared Claghorn has already intimated that the +name Eliphalet was an honored one in the family. An Eliphalet Claghorn +had been a man of mark among the Pilgrims. His eldest son had borne his +parent's name and had succeeded to the clerical vocation; an example +which he had imposed upon his own first-born, and thus became +established the custom of giving to a son of each Eliphalet the name of +his father, in the pleasing hope that he who bore the revered +appellation might be called to serve in the Lord's fold, as shepherd of +the flock; which hope had generally been realized. In due course that +Eliphalet who was destined to beget Beverley had been called, had +answered the summons, and at the birth of his only son, had, with +confident expectation of a similar call to the latter, named his name +"Eliphalet." + +In time the call was heard. The youth, fully assured that he, like the +ancestral Eliphalets, would find his field of labor in the vineyard of +God, had gone so far in acceptance of his solemn duty as to enter the +well-known Theological Seminary at Hampton, there to fit himself for the +only future he had ever contemplated. + +Then a shock had come,--a great legacy from one of two California +brothers, both long given up as dead. From the moment this fortune came +into his possession, the father of Beverley Claghorn, always a stern and +gloomy man, the product of a ruthless creed, knew no day of peace. He +craved worldly distinction--not the pleasures which beckoned his +son--with a craving which only a starved nature with powers fitting to +the world can know. On the other hand, a rigid sense of duty, perhaps, +too, the gloomy joy of martyrdom, urged him to reject a temptation which +he persuaded himself was offered by the Prince of Darkness. He remained +outwardly true to his duty, an unhappy soldier at the post assigned +him, and died as his fathers had died, in the odor of sanctity; in his +heart hankering to the last for the joys offered by the world to him who +has wealth, and to the last sternly rejecting them. + +Secretly, though with bitter self-condemnation, he had approved his +son's renunciation of the theological course. Not with his lips. It was +impossible for him, stubbornly believing, as he had always believed, +though now with the frequent doubts and fears of the new standpoint he +occupied, to openly approve the intentions displayed by the youth. Yet +he acquiesced in silence, secretly hoping to see the son, who had +commenced the study of the law, a power in the State. That he was never +to see, and it was well that he died before the renegade Eliphalet had +extinguished such hope by voluntary exile. + +Beverley's history, or at least that portion of it which he chose to +impart, was told in reply to the eager questioning of Jared. Perhaps he +was not sorry that his old fellow-student should note his air of man of +fashion and aristocrat, and he set forth the renown of the de Fleury +lineage, innocently shocking his cousin by explaining the meaning and +glory of that bar sinister, which he himself revered. + +Jared, on his part, narrated at much greater length than his auditor +sympathetically appreciated, the history of his own life. He, too, had +married brilliantly--a Morley, as he informed his cousin, and one who, +dying, had left him well endowed with this world's goods, and it may be +that it was by reason of this fact, as well as because of superior +attainments, that the speaker had developed into a teacher in that same +seminary where the two had been fellow-students. + +"Yes," he said in a tone of satisfaction, "I hold down the chair of +Biblical Theology in Hampton. You would hardly recognize the old Sem, +El--Beverley." + +"I suppose not. I shall make a flying trip there some day." + +"A flying trip! Surely you don't intend to abandon your country +forever?" + +"Not unlikely. You see, I am more of a Frenchman than anything else, and +my daughter is quite French." + +"She speaks English?" + +"Oh, as to that, as well as anybody. She has been largely educated in +England. But her relatives, I mean those that she knows, look upon her +as belonging wholly to them, and----" + +"I trust she is not a Romanist, Cousin." + +"You mean a Catholic. Make your mind easy; she is not." + +"I truly rejoice to hear it," exclaimed Jared with fervor. "But I might +have known," he added apologetically, "that a Claghorn would not suffer +the perversion of his child." Whereat Monsieur changed the topic. + +Meanwhile, the young ones of the party had gone to investigate an echo +in a glen hard by, directed thereto by the host of the Red-Ox. They were +conducted by a stolid maiden, told off for that purpose, a fact which +Monsieur Claghorn, from his place in the garden, noted with +satisfaction. + +Freed from the restraint of the presence of the philosopher, whose +raiment and bearing had inspired him with awe, Leonard's engaging +simplicity and frank manner added to the favorable impression of his +beautiful face. + +The charms of nature about them were attractive to both and it was easy +to become acquainted, with so much of interest in common. The girl's +enthusiasm, somewhat dampened by the philosopher, returned in the +presence of a sympathetic listener, and she told the tale of their +wanderings, concluding by expressing the opinion that Germany must be +the most delightful of all countries. + +"This part is fine," said Leonard. "But wait until you see the Black +Forest." + +"I hope to see it when we leave Heidelberg. Is the wine good?" + +"I don't know," was the answer. "I didn't drink any wine." + +"It must be very bad if you wouldn't drink it," she observed +despondently. "Papa scolds about the wine of the Bergstrasse, which, for +my part, I find very good. Then, at the better inns one isn't confined +to the vintage of the neighborhood." + +"Surely, you don't drink wine!" exclaimed Leonard. + +"Not drink wine! What should I do with it?" + +"It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder," he quoted +gravely, not at all priggishly. He was sincere in his confidence in +Solomon, and his surprise and sorrow were honest. + +"Wine does!" she laughed. "I never knew that before. Don't Americans +drink wine?" + +"Some do," he admitted. "Our best people do not drink. We think the +example bad." + +"_Par example!_ And how do your best people manage at dinner?" + +"With water." + +"Decidedly, I should not like dining with your best people." + +"But, Cousin Natalie--that is a very pretty name;" here he blushed +engagingly--"wine makes one drunk." + +"Certainly, if one gets drunk." + +"Then, how can you drink wine?" + +The question and the serious manner of its asking were incomprehensible +to the girl, who laughed at the incongruity of the ideas suggested by +drinking wine on the one hand, and getting drunk on the other. Then the +subject was dropped; perhaps they recognized that it was enveloped in +clouds of misunderstanding which were impenetrable. + +The glen in which dwells the echo of Forellenbach is like a roofless +cave, or a great well with a side entrance. Its floor being wet, Natalie +remained at the entrance, trusting there to hear whatever might be worth +hearing. Leonard passed into the well. + +He looked back. She stood in the light, smiling upon this new-found +cousin, who had such strange ideas as to wine, but withal, her eyes were +kindly. If either had any premonition of the future, it must have been +false or partial, or they had not faced each other smiling. He had +intended to shout aloud her pretty name and thus to test the echo; but +instinct warned him that this was hardly fitting. So, perhaps, with a +vague desire to connect her with the trial, he compromised, and the word +he shouted was "Claghorn." + +It was returned to him in various modulations from all sides. The +effect was startling, but even more so were the words that fell upon his +ear as the echoes died away: "Who are you, and what do you want?" + +The question came from above. Leonard, looking upward, saw the face of a +youth who, from the top of the cliff, was peering down. Upon the head of +this person, rakishly worn, was a blue cap, braided with silver and red +velvet. The face had penetrating eyes, rather stern, and a mouth shaded +by a dark moustache. The question was repeated, it seemed to Leonard +truculently: "What do you want?" + +The words were German, but easily understood. Leonard answered in +English: "I don't want you." + +"Then, why did you call me?" Now the words were English and the tone +awakened Leonard's resentment. "Do you suppose that every one that tries +the echo is calling you?" he asked. + +"You called me. Why?" + +Leonard labored under the disadvantage of hearing all that was said +repeated many times. It was irritating; nor was the tone of the other +pacific. It was even war-like. "I didn't address you," he said. "I do +now: Be silent!" + +The other laughed. "_Bist ein dummer Junge_, my son," he said. "I +suppose you are a student. Get your card." + +He disappeared, evidently with a view of intercepting Leonard who, +emerging from the cave, met him almost at Natalie's side. + +The newcomer was surprised to see the girl. "I beg your pardon," he +said, removing his cap; then, aside to Leonard: "I will accept your card +on another occasion, if you prefer. You are a student of Heidelberg, I +suppose?" + +"I am a student, certainly, of Hampton, in the United States. I have no +card. My name is Claghorn." + +The sternness of the newcomer gave place to astonishment. "I beg your +pardon, and your sister's," he said, glancing at Natalie. "My name +happens to be the same. Naturally, I supposed----" + +"The place seems to be alive with Claghorns," exclaimed Leonard. + +"And since you are from Hampton, I believe we are related," continued +the newcomer. "Cousins, I suppose. You can't be Professor Claghorn?" + +"I can be, and am, his son," laughed Leonard. "You are the third cousin +I have found to-day." + +By this time the two elders had joined the party. Monsieur Claghorn had +deemed it advisable, for his daughter's sake, to follow her footsteps. +The Reverend Jared, accompanying him, heard Leonard's words. "A cousin!" +he exclaimed, looking inquiringly at the stranger who made the claim, +and ready gushingly to welcome him. + +"I think so," answered the stranger, smiling. "My father was Joseph +Claghorn, of San Francisco." + +"He's your first cousin, 'Liph," exclaimed the Reverend Jared, +hesitating no longer, but grasping the unoffered hand of the son of +Joseph. Then he added in an awestruck voice, "You must be the owner of +the Great Serpent?" + +"I am in its coils," replied the young man with a half sigh. + +"Wonderful!" ejaculated Jared, and then glibly plunged into a +genealogical disquisition for the general benefit, the result of which +was that Claghorn, the son of Joseph, and in the coils of the Great +Serpent, stood demonstrated as the first cousin of Beverley, the second +of Natalie, the third of himself and the fourth of Leonard. The +professorial fluency had the good effect of creating enough hilarity to +dissipate constraint; and its cordiality embraced all present in a +circle of amity, whether they would or not. + +But there was no indication of reluctance to cousinly recognition. +Monsieur saw sufficient comedy in the situation to amuse him, nor was he +oblivious of the fascinations of the Great Serpent, which reptile was a +mine, known by repute to all present, and the source of Monsieur's +wealth, for that inheritance that had changed the course of his life had +been thence derived. The dead brother of the now dead Eliphalet had left +his share of the mine to Joseph, his partner, but had divided his +savings between Eliphalet and a sister, Achsah by name. The son of +Joseph, and owner of the Great Serpent, must be in the eyes of anybody +the acceptable person he was in the eyes of Monsieur Claghorn, the more +so as he was thoroughly presentable, being handsome, well dressed, and +with rather more of the air of a man of the world than was usual in one +of his years, which might be twenty-one. + +"We have not learned your Christian name," said Jared, after +acquaintance had been established and the youth had been duly informed +of much family history. "I hope your parents named you Eliphalet," +glancing, not without reproach, at the actual owner of that appellation. + +"They spared me that infliction," answered the newcomer, laughing, +"though they hit me pretty hard. My name is Mark"; then, perhaps noting +the faint flush upon the cheek of one of the members of the group, "I +beg pardon; I should have been more respectful of a respectable family +name, which may be borne by some one of you." + +"Nobody bears it; you are to be congratulated," observed Monsieur +firmly. The Reverend Jared looked grieved, but said nothing. + +Mark Claghorn informed his auditors--there was no escaping the +examination of the Professor--that he was a student at Heidelberg, that +his mother sojourned there with him, that she was a widow, with an +adopted daughter, a distant connexion, named Paula; and having learned +that the entire party was bound for that city he expressed the hope that +all these wandering offshoots of the Claghorn family might there meet +and become better acquainted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE DIVERSIONS OF THE CLAGHORNS. + + +A good-humored widow, fair, and if mature, not old, and with the +allurement of the possession of boundless wealth; two lovely maids; a +brace of well-disposed young men, of whom one was strikingly beautiful +and guileless, the other less comely as less innocent, yet in these +respects not deficient, and the heir of millions; finally, a genial +theologian and a philosopher, summer and Heidelberg--given these +components and it must be confessed that the impromptu reunion of the +Claghorns promised present enjoyment and gratifying memories for the +future. The various members of the clan acted as if they so believed and +were content. There were moments, indeed, when the genial Jared was +moved to bewail the absence of Miss Achsah Claghorn, as being the only +notable member of the family not present. The philosopher admitted a +youthful acquaintance with the lady in question, who was his aunt, and +echoed the Professor's eulogy, but evinced resignation. To the others, +except to Leonard, who had evidently been taught to revere Miss Achsah, +she was personally unknown, hence the loss occasioned by her absence was +by them unfelt. + +"She is greatly exercised just now," observed Jared, "by an event which +possesses interest for all of us, and which ought to especially interest +you, 'Liph." + +"Salvation for the heathen by means of moral pocket handkerchiefs?" +drawled the philosopher, secretly annoyed by the clergyman's persistent +use of his discarded Christian name. + +"_She_ says a sacrilegious scheme; nothing short of the desecration of +your namesake's grave," retorted the Professor. + +The party was grouped on the great terrace of the castle, against the +balustrade of which the clergyman leaned as he addressed his audience +with somewhat of the air of a lecturer, an aspect which was emphasized +by his use of a letter which he had drawn from his pocket, and to which +he pointed with his long forefinger. + +"You are all doubtless aware," he observed, "that Miss Achsah is the +sister of the late Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn, father of our cousin and +friend here present" (indicating Monsieur, who bowed to the speaker), +"and, as the sister of your deceased husband, Mrs. Joseph, she is your +sister-in-law." + +The lady smilingly assented to a proposition indisputable, and which +probably contained no element of novelty to her; while Jared informed +Mark and Natalie that the writer of the letter in his hand was aunt to +the youth and great-aunt to the maiden. "She is also cousin to me, and +in a further remove to Leonard," and having thus defined the status of +Miss Claghorn, he proceeded to explain that he had reminded his hearers +of the facts for the reason that the matter concerning which the lady's +letter treated was of interest to all present, "except to you, my dear," +he added sympathizingly to Paula, "you not being a Claghorn." + +"We compassionate you, Mademoiselle," observed the philosopher to the +damsel, "and I am sure," he added in a lower tone, "you are sorry for +us." To which, Paula, who did not quite understand the philosopher, +responded only with a smile and a blush. + +"Miss Achsah's letter," continued the Professor, ignoring the by-play, +and addressing Mrs. Joe, is dated two months since, and runs thus: + +"'I wrote in my last of the strange events taking place in Easthampton. +At that time there were only rumors; now there are facts to go upon. The +tract given by our ancestor to the Lord is at this moment the property +of a New York lawyer. You know that I long ago tried to buy the tomb and +was refused. The trustees assure me that it will not be desecrated, that +the purchaser promised of his own accord that the sacred dust should not +be disturbed. I told them that they might advantageously take lessons in +reverence from the lawyer, so there is a coolness between the trustees +and myself.' (I am really very sorry for that," muttered the reader +parenthetically)---- + +"As I understand," interrupted Mrs. Joe, "the land was owned by the +Seminary, and the Seminary which is now in Hampton was to have been +built upon it. Is that what my sister-in-law means by saying it was +given to the Lord?" + +"Her view is not exactly correct," replied the Professor. "I am myself +one of the trustees. Possibly, Eliphalet Claghorn hoped that the +Seminary would eventually be erected upon the land he gave toward its +foundation. Evidently his successors, the fathers of the church, +preferred Hampton to Easthampton." + +"In those days Easthampton was a busy mart of trade--they _do_ say the +slave trade," observed the philosopher. "Hampton, as a secluded village, +not liable to incursions of enslaved heathen, godless sailors or godly +traders, was better fitted for pious and scholastic meditation, and----" + +"Now the conditions are reversed," interrupted Jared; "Hampton is a +considerable city, Easthampton a quiet suburb." + +"Does Miss Achsah say what the lawyer intends to do with his purchase?" +asked Mrs. Joe. + +"No doubt he represents a concealed principal," suggested the +philosopher, "probably a rival institution--a Jesuit College." + +Jared turned pale. "You don't really suppose, 'Liph--but, no! I am sure +my co-trustees could not be taken in." + +Mrs. Joe cast a reproachful glance at the philosopher. "Miss Achsah +would surely have detected a Jesuit plot had there been one," she +observed encouragingly. "But why is she so indignant?" + +"She has long wanted to purchase the ground about the tomb," replied +Jared. "Naturally, she feels aggrieved that it will come into the hands +of a stranger. The trustees, to my knowledge, tried to retain it, with +the rest of the waste ground, and to sell only the old wharves and +houses, but the lawyer insisted; in fact, paid a high price for the +waste land which includes the grave." + +"Mysterious, if not Jesuitical," murmured Beverley; but the clergyman +affected not to hear. + +"Has Miss Achsah no knowledge of the intentions of the purchaser?" asked +the lady. + +"This is what she says," answered the Professor, consulting the letter: + +"'The trustees conceal the purpose for which the land is wanted, but I +forced the information from Hacket when I informed him that, if I so +desired, I could give the management of my affairs to young Burley. At +this, Mr. Hacket came down from his high horse and informed me in +confidence that the lawyer is to build a grand residence at the Point, +and will spend an immense amount of money. All of which is not +reassuring, if true. Although the place has been shamefully neglected, I +was always glad to know that the Tomb was there, solitary amid the +crags; only the sea-roar breaking the silence. I suppose there will be +other sounds now, not so pleasant to think about.'" + +"Well," observed Mrs. Joe, after a pause, "let us hope that Miss Achsah +will be reconciled after the lawyer's plans are more fully developed. He +seems to be willing to respect the tomb." + +"What is this tomb?" asked Natalie. + +"The Tomb of Eliphalet Claghorn, the first of your race in the New +World," explained the Professor reverently, and not without a +reproachful glance at the philosopher, who had too evidently left his +daughter in ignorance of much family history. + +"He came over in the Mayflower," observed Leonard in a low tone to +Natalie; and then, to his surprise, found it necessary to explain his +explanation, for which purpose, in company with the girl he strolled +away. + +They paused at a little distance, and leaning upon the stone balustrade, +looked down upon the town or at the plain beyond, or across the Neckar +at the hills of the Philosophenweg. Here Leonard told his foreign cousin +the story of the first Eliphalet. + +"A strange story," was her comment. + +"A noble story," he corrected. + +"All sacrifice is noble. I know a woman in extreme poverty who gave ten +francs to regild a tawdry statue of the Virgin." + +"Deplorable!" exclaimed Leonard severely. + +"Pitiful, rather. Consider what the sum was to her! The needs she +sacrificed--and for what?" + +"Sacrifice wasted, and degradingly wasted." + +"Wasted, doubtless; but why degradingly?" + +"Granted that your poor woman was sincere"--which, however, the speaker +seemed to grant but grudgingly--"the sacrifice was still degrading in +that it was made to superstition." + +She smiled. "What would my poor woman say of Grandfather Eliphalet?" + +"It's a question, you see, of the point of view," observed Mark, who had +sauntered to where they stood. + +"It's a question of truth and falsehood," retorted Leonard a little +stiffly, and not best pleased with the interruption of the tete-a-tete. + +"Do you know the truth?" + +"God is truth." + +"A truly theological elucidation," said Mark. + +"What do you say, Cousin Natalie?" asked Leonard wistfully. + +She had been gazing across the plain at the towers of Ladenburg, +gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. "Can anybody say?" she +answered. "Look at the plain," she added, stretching forth her hand, +"these battered walls, the city at our feet. How often have they been +scorched by fire and soaked in blood; and always in the cause of that +truth which so many said was false!" + +"Rather, because of the schemes of ambitious men," said Leonard. + +"The pretext was always religion. Priests always the instigators of the +wars," said Mark. + +"Priests, yes, I grant you----" + +"I include those of the Reformation. The bloodiest history of this place +is its history since the Reformation. The source of its horrors was +religion, always religion." + +"For which reason," retorted Leonard, "you would blame religion, rather +than the men who made it a cloak to ambition." + +"One asks: What is religion?" said Natalie. "Catholics say of Frederick, +who reigned here, that he was led by ambition to his fall; Protestants, +that he fell a glorious sacrifice in the cause of truth. Who shall +judge?" + +"False ideas of duty lead to perdition," said Leonard sententiously. + +"Which would seem to demonstrate that Frederick was in the wrong," +observed Mark. "That may be so, but it hardly lies in the mouth of a +student of Hampton." + +"Of course, I know that Frederick was the Protestant champion," said +Leonard, annoyed; "but----" + +"Yet he lost his cause! How can one know--how do you know the truth?" +The girl looked up with an eager expression as she asked the question. + +"I know because I feel it," he answered in a low tone. They were solemn +words to him, and as he uttered them a longing to show truth to this +fair maid arose within him. + +"And if one does not know, one cannot feel," murmured Natalie sadly. +"Catholics, Jews, Protestants, all feel and all know----" + +"That the others are all wrong," interjected Mark. + +Meanwhile, the others of the party were approaching, the Professor +expatiating to Paula anent the glories of the Claghorn race; not such +glories, as he pointed out, as those of which they saw the evidences in +the effigies of warriors and carved armorial bearings; but higher +glories, humble deeds on earth, of which the story illuminated the +celestial record. The dissertation had been commenced for the general +weal, but the widow and the philosopher had gradually dropped behind, +leaving Paula alone to derive benefit from the lessons drawn by Cousin +Jared from the Claghorn history as contrasted with that of the rulers of +the Palatinate. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +HOW A PAGAN PHILOSOPHER ENTERED THE SERVICE OF THE CHURCH. + + +"I fear you do not sympathize with Miss Achsah," observed the widow to +her companion. + +"In her solicitude for the tomb of Grandfather Eliphalet? No. Reverence +for my ancestor has diminished with age; my excellent aunt, as befits a +lady, remains ever young and romantic." + +"She ought to appreciate the lawyer's declared intention to respect the +grave." + +"Handsome of the lawyer, who, _du reste_, seems an anomaly." + +"How so?" + +"He pays an extravagant price for a dreary desert. He volunteers to keep +a stranger's tomb in repair----" + +"Suppose I were to tell you that I am the lawyer who is to build the +handsome residence." + +"I should feel honored by your confidence, and unreservedly put my trust +in your motives, because they are yours." + +"But you are not surprised?" + +"Rather deeply interested, and no less solicitous." + +"Why solicitous?" + +"Because of the incongruity you present as a resident of Easthampton. +That little town is not merely the sepulchre of Eliphalet Claghorn, but +the grave of mirth and the social graces. Can I contemplate the +possibility of your interment without sorrow?" + +The gentleman's tone had lapsed into tenderness; the lady smiled. "I +believe you have not seen the place for many years," she said. + +"Nothing has prevented my doing so except my recollection of its +attractions." + +"The ground I intend for a residence," said the lady, "has great +natural advantages. It faces the ocean, has noble trees----" + +"And crags and boulders, a most desolate spot." + +"Which a handsome house will adorn and make beautiful. We must live +somewhere. If we leave California, what better place can we choose than +the old home of my son's race, where his name has been honored for +generations? In that region he will not be a new man." + +"An old one, assuredly, if he remains there. But he will flee from the +home of his ancestors. The place is sunk in somnolence; one of those +country towns that the world has been glad to forget. Rotting wharves, a +few tumbledown warehouses, and three or four streets, shaded by trees so +big that even the white houses with their green blinds look gloomy." + +"The wharves and warehouses are mine, and are to be pulled down. I like +the shady streets and the white houses." + +"And their inmates?" The philosopher shuddered. + +"The Claghorn paragon, Miss Achsah, lives in one of them." + +"Ah, Miss Achsah! You do not know Miss Achsah; she superintended my +boyhood." + +"The result is a tribute to her excellence." + +The gentleman bowed. "She is a good woman--the personification of Roman +virtue, adorned with the graces of Calvinism--but, my dear Cousin" (the +lady was his aunt, if anything), "I put it to you. Is not personified +virtue most admirable at a distance?" + +The lady laughed. "Possibly. But I do not expect to be reduced to +virtuous society only, even if I am fortunate enough to prove acceptable +in the eyes of Miss Claghorn. Our Professor assures me that the Hampton +circle is most agreeable; and Hampton and Easthampton are practically +one." + +"And what a one!" The philosopher shrugged his shoulders in true Gallic +fashion. "Madame, Hampton is the home of theology--and such theology! It +is filled with musty professors, their musty wives and awkward and +conceited boys, in training to become awkward and conceited men. +Remember, I was one of the horde and know whereof I speak. Think +seriously, my dear Cousin, before you expose so beautiful a girl as +Mademoiselle Paula, not to speak of yourself, to such an environment." + +The lady remained unmoved, though the gentleman had pleaded eloquently. +"You are prejudiced," she answered. "Confess that there is no more +agreeable man than our Cousin Jared; and if his son is a fair specimen +of Hampton students, they must compare favorably with any others." + +"Which would not be saying much. Jared is, doubtless, a good fellow, +amenable once, but now encrusted with frightfully narrow views. As to +young Leonard, his extraordinary good looks and amiability render him +exceptional. It is really a pity that he can't be rescued," and the +speaker sighed. + +A sigh born of a sincere sentiment. Monsieur was at bottom good-natured, +and it affected him disagreeably to see unusual graces doomed to a +pulpit or a professorial chair. It was a sad waste of advantages fitted +for better things. To dedicate to Heaven charms so apt for the world, +seemed to him foolish, and to the devotee unfair. He felt as may feel a +generous beauty whose day is past, and who contemplates some blooming +maid about to enter a nunnery. "Ah! _Si la jeunesse savait_," he +murmured. + +"You will not resolve without deliberation," he pleaded, having rendered +to Leonard's fate the passing tribute of a sigh. "I dare not venture to +beg you to wait until after your winter in Paris, but----" + +"But, Monsieur, my resolve is fixed, though known only to you. Work is +already commenced. But I must request you to keep the secret from all, +including my son. I wish to surprise him." + +"Your success is certain. It would be presumptuous to further combat +your plans; especially"--with a graceful inclination--"since you disarm +me by honoring me with your confidence." + +"I have a reason for that," she said frankly. "I want your aid." + +"In self-immolation! Even in that I am at your service." + +"My purpose can be explained in a few words," she said, indicating a +chair near the balustrade, into which the philosopher gracefully sank, +after bowing the lady into one beside it. "I wish to build a grand +house. My son's importance in the world is an attribute of his wealth. +This is not a fact to flaunt, but is to be considered, and one by which +I am bound to be influenced in contemplating his future." + +"A great aid, Madame, in right conduct." + +"My son will find it a great responsibility." + +"Inheriting, as he does, your sense of duty," suggested the philosopher. + +"Precisely. Now, I have planned a career for Mark." + +There was a faint movement as of a fleeting smile behind Monsieur's +well-trimmed moustache. The sharp-eyed lady noticed it, but was not +disconcerted. + +"I recognize the possibility of my plans coming to naught," she said. +"That need not prevent my attempt to realize them. I see but one career +open to my son; he must become a statesman." + +"In Easthampton?" + +"In the United States. It is his country. Pardon me," seeing him about +to interpose. "It is not on this point I ask the aid you are willing to +accord. That refers to my contemplated operations in Easthampton. It +happens, however, that my son's future will depend, in no small measure, +upon the enterprises in question. His great need will be identification +with local interests, to which end a fixed habitation is necessary. I +wish to build a house which will attract attention. To put it bluntly, I +intend to advertise my son by means of my house." + +"You will extort the sympathetic admiration of your compatriots." + +"I shall not be as frank with them as with you. You will know that mere +display is not my object." + +"Yours merits admiration, even while it extorts regret." + +"And now you see why Easthampton is peculiarly adapted to the end in +view. No man can point to Mark Claghorn and ask, 'Who is he?' His name +was carved in that region two centuries since." + +"But you and your son are, I believe, liberal in your religious views. +The Claghorns----" + +"Have always kept the faith--with one notable exception"--the +philosopher bowed acceptance of the compliment--"but I object to being +called liberal, as you define the term; we are Catholics, that is to +say, Anglicans." + +"Humph!" muttered the philosopher dubiously. + +"And I intend," pursued the lady, "to proclaim my creed by an act which +I know is daring, but which will have the advantage of rooting my son +and his descendants in the soil of Easthampton. I intend to build, to +the memory of my husband, a High-Church chapel, a work of art that shall +be unequalled in the country." + +"Daring, indeed! Rash----" + +"Not rash; but were it so, I should still do that which I have planned. +My husband longed to return to the home of his boyhood, had fully +resolved on purchasing the Seminary tract. He shall sleep where his +ancestor sleeps." She turned her head to conceal a tear; the philosopher +turned his to conceal a smile. + +"In this pious and appropriate design, my dear Cousin," he murmured---- + +"I shall have your sympathy; I was sure of it. I want more; I want your +aid." + +In view of its wealthy source the suggestion was not alarming. The +gentleman promised it to the extent of his poor powers, intimating, +however, that connubial fidelity might conflict with maternal ambition, +a result which he deprecated as deplorable. + +Mrs. Joe had, she said, fully considered that possibility. "Suppose you +are right," she answered to the philosopher's argument, "even if Hampton +is the home of bigotry, boldness always commands sympathy. My chapel +will lend importance to a town which mourns a lost prestige. It will be +talked about from one end of the State to the other; and I intend that +the Seminary shall be my right hand, the Church--my church, my left----" + +"And both hands full!" + +She blushed. "Of course, I shall use my advantages. The Seminary is the +centre of much religious effort, which, as a Christian, I shall be glad +to aid. It is the centre of influence, which I hope to share. Under my +roof the representatives of differing creeds shall meet in harmony and +acquire mutual respect. Should it happen that my son be politically +objectionable because of my chapel--why, in such a condition of affairs +the liberalism that is always latent where bigotry flourishes would +spring to his aid, and find in him a leader." + +"Madame!" exclaimed the gentleman, "you will win." + +"I hope so," she replied, pleased at the admiration she had extorted. +"And now, you shall be told how you can aid me. Paris is an art centre; +there are to be found the people I shall need in regard to my plans +concerning the chapel. I am resolved that this shall be so noble an +edifice that the voice of detraction shall never be heard. Next winter +we shall meet in Paris. Will you, so far as may be, prepare the way for +my access to the places and people I desire to see?" + +"Assuredly. I shall enter upon the task assigned me with admiration for +your plans and sincere devotion to your interests," Thus, with his hand +upon his heart and with an inclination of true Parisian elegance, the +philosopher entered the service of Mrs. Joe, and of the Church. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ART, DIPLOMACY, LOVE AND OTHER THINGS. + + +Thus in amity dwelt the Claghorns, employing the summer days in innocent +diversion. Many were the expeditions to points of interest; to +Neckarsteinach and the Robbers' Nest, to the village of Dilsberg, +perched upon the peak which even the bold Tilly had found unconquerable +in peasant hands; to Handschuhsheim, where sleeps the last of his race, +the boy-lord slain in duel with the fierce Baron of Hirschhorn, who +himself awaits the judgment in the crypt of St. Kilian, at Heilbronn, +holding in his skeleton hand a scroll, telling how the Mother's Curse +pursued him to where he lies; to the Black Forest, now so smiling, but +which Caesar found dark, cold and gloomy, with its later memories of +ruthless knights whose monuments are the grim ruins that crown the +vineclad hills, and with present lore of gnomes and brownies. In these +simple pleasures youth and maiden, philosopher, theologian and worldly +widow joined with the emotions befitting their years and +characteristics. To Natalie it was a time of intense delight, shared +sympathetically by Paula, but more serenely. Mark enjoyed keenly, yet +with rare smiles and with an underlying seriousness in which an observer +might have detected a trace of the trail of the Great Serpent. Leonard, +seldom absent from the side of his French cousin, delighted in the novel +scenes and the companionship, but at times was puzzled by Natalie's +capacity to live in a past that, as he pointed out, was better dead, +since in its worst aspect it had been a time of barbarism, in its best +of fanaticism. He could not understand the longing and liking for a day +when if knights were bold they were also boorish, when if damosels were +fair they were also ignorant of books, and perchance of bathtubs. He +stared in innocent wonder at Natalie's exclamation of deprecation and +Mark's harsh laugh when he pointed out such undeniable facts. To him +Hans von Handschuhsheim, lying dead upon the steps of the Church of the +Holy Ghost, his yellow locks red with blood, and the fierce Hirschhorn +wiping his blade as he turned his back upon his handiwork--to Leonard +this was a drunken brawl of three centuries since, and it grieved him to +see in Natalie a tendency to be interested in the "vulgar details of +crime." He knew that the girl lived in the gloom of irreligion (he was +not aware that she dwelt in the outer darkness of ignorance), and he +sighed as he noted one result of her unhappy lack; and he never knelt at +his bedside forgetful of the fact, or of his duty in relation thereto. + +As to the elders of the party, they enjoyed the present after the +fashion of those whose days of dreaming have passed. Cousin Jared's +broad smile of satisfaction was only absent when, in the heat of +disputation, the philosopher was especially sacrilegious or aggravating, +and even so, it was easily recalled by the tact of the widow, much of +whose time was spent in keeping the peace between the two +fellow-students of bygone years. As for the philosopher, he secretly +pined for the Boulevard, though he, too, found distraction, one favorite +amusement being to disturb the usual serenity of Paula by cynical +witticisms, totally incomprehensible to the simple maiden. + +The day of separation came at length, the first to depart being the +mature and the budding theologian. Adieux were interchanged at the +railway station, and many hopes as to future meetings were expressed, as +well as satisfaction that chance had brought about a reunion so +unexpected. No doubt these expressions were sincere, yet it is possible +that as to clergyman and philosopher, each recognized in secret that +their real adieux had been uttered years before. Under the +circumstances, and with Mrs. Joe as a new link, the old chain had +served; but at heart the two were antagonists; the chain was worn out. + +"Not altogether a bad sort, Jared," observed M. Claghorn, as he walked +from the station and by the side of Mrs. Joe along the Anlage. + +"A thoroughly good fellow." + +He smiled. It was faint praise. He said to himself complacently that +she would not characterize himself as "a good fellow," whereas, the +politician at his side, however she might have described her companion, +regarded the departed Jared as of greater value to her plans, which had +not been confided to him, than could be the philosopher in whom she had +confided. + +The two girls and Mark, following their elders, also interchanged views +concerning the travelers. The verdict as to Cousin Jared, though less +irreverently expressed, was similar to that enunciated by the widow. The +good-hearted theologian had won the regard of all. + +"And as for Leonard," observed Paula, "he is the handsomest boy I ever +saw." + +"And as amiable as beautiful," averred Natalie. + +"As well as a little--shall we say 'verdant'?" suggested Mark. But the +girls either denied the verdancy, or, if they admitted the charge in +part, maintained it was an added excellence. + +Meanwhile, the travelers contemplated one another from opposite sides of +their railway carriage, the consciousness of leaving a strange world and +re-entering their old one already making itself felt. To the elder man +the change was neither startling nor very painful, but to Leonard it was +both. He did not try to analyze his feelings, but there was a dead +weight at his heart, a sorrow heavier than the natural regret at +parting. It was long before he spoke. "I am so glad that our cousin, +Natalie, though French, is not Catholic," he said, at length. + +"I fear she is worse," was the answer. + +"What could be worse?" + +"Total unbelief," replied his father solemnly; and the weight at +Leonard's heart grew heavier. + +During the short remainder of M. Claghorn's stay at Heidelberg--already +prolonged far beyond the original intention--it was arranged that he +should select for the widow suitable quarters for her winter +establishment at Paris; and so willing was the gentleman to be of +service, that, to his great satisfaction, he received _carte blanche_ +for the purpose, and, Natalie accompanying him, departed with the +resolve that the owners of the Great Serpent should be lodged in +accordance with the just demands of that magnificent reptile, having in +view, among other aspirations, the dazzling of the House of Fleury by +the brilliance of the House of Claghorn. + +As to those other aspirations, enough to say that they were by no means +compatible with the loyalty he had professed for the pious plans of Mrs. +Joe. He had not forgotten that the noble arms of the Marquise de Fleury +were open to receive his daughter; but under existing conditions he was +willing to be coy. He remembered with satisfaction that he had not +irrevocably committed himself to a matrimonial alliance which still +possessed attractions: though in the presence of the dazzling +possibilities now offered, it behooved him to avoid precipitation. And +so reasonable was this position that he did not hesitate to disclose it +to the Marquise, simultaneously exculpating himself and assuaging the +lady's resentment by dangling before her the glittering possibilities +presented by Paula Lynford, whom he, with politic inaccuracy, described +as the actual daughter of Mrs. Claghorn, hence inferentially a +co-inheritor, with Mark, of the golden product of the Great Serpent. + +"_Tiens_, Adolphe!" exclaimed the lady to her son, after having listened +to the entrancing tale told by the philosopher, "Heaven has heard my +prayers," and she repeated the unctuous story. + +"Over a million of _dot_! It is monstrous, mama." + +"For these people a bagatelle. Their gold mine yields a thousand francs +a minute." + +"These incredible Americans!" + +"There is also a son, one Marc, about your age----" + +"Aha, I see! M. Claghorn destines Natalie----" + +"Precisely." + +The little lieutenant wagged his head. It was the tribute to a dying +love. From infancy he had been taught by his mama that in Natalie he +beheld the future mother of the de Fleurys. Since infancy he had seen +her but rarely, and on such occasions, being admonished by his mama, had +concealed his passion from its object; but thus repressed, it had +bubbled forth in other channels. He had written and declaimed sonnets; +he had shed tears to a captured photograph of Natalie in pantalettes. +The gusts of consuming passion which, in the presence of his _amis de +college_, had swept sirocco-like across his soul, had extorted the sigh +of envy and the tear of sympathy; from other friends, notably from +Celestine, Claire and Annette, these manifestations had extorted shrieks +of laughter, which, however, had moved him, not to indignation, but to +pity, for in these damsels he saw but butterflies of love, unable to +comprehend a _grande passion_. + +It was, then, not without a fitting and manly sigh that the Marquis de +Fleury surrendered the love of his youth in obedience to his mama and +the motto of his house, which was "Noblesse Oblige," and, having +procured from Natalie a photograph of Paula, he did homage before it as +to "_la belle Lanforre_" in person, besides altering an old sonnet which +had already seen service, and finding that Lynford, or as he would have +it, "Lanforre," rhymed sufficiently well with Amor. + +Meanwhile, the philosopher having diplomatically engaged the services of +the Marquise, the noble lady proceeded to perform with zeal the task +assigned her. _La belle France_, home of romance and last citadel of +chivalry, is also business-like, and its sons and daughters of whatever +rank are deft manipulators of the honest penny. In negotiating for the +luxurious apartment of a diplomat about to proceed to Spain for a +sojourn of some months, and in dealing with furnishers of all +description, from laundry to livery men, the noble lady provided herself +with pocket-money for some time to come; a seasonable relief to the +over-strained resources of the House of Fleury. + +"_Tiens_," exclaimed Adolphe to his mama, Mrs. Claghorn being already +installed in the diplomatic quarters, "this desire of Madame Zho to +inspect churches--how do you explain it?" + +"She is _devote_. Doubtless she has sinned. She wishes to erect in her +own country an expiatory chapel." + +Which explanation, evolved from information derived from the +philosopher, aided by the speaker's fancy, elucidated the mystery +contained in the patronymic "Lanforre," borne by Paula. "_Sans doute_," +mused the Marquise, "_la mere_, being American, was _divorcee_. The +daughter is the child of the first husband." Which theory sufficed +until the later arrival of Mark, who, as being palpably older than +Paula, drove the lady to evolve another, which, fortunately, in the +interest of harmony, was not confided to "Madame Zho," but which not +only explained, but demanded the expiatory chapel. + +Mrs. Claghorn threw herself into her pious work with a zeal which +extorted the approbation of the Marquise, who, as we know, was herself a +religious woman, but which to the philosopher was less admirable, since +it interfered with deep-laid plans with which it was incompatible. He +was somewhat consoled, however, by the fact that the lady's course +facilitated an intimacy which was favorable to the realization of less +secret hopes; wherefore he vied with the Marquise in forwarding the +pious cause of the widow by surrounding that lady with an artistic host, +whereof the members received comforting orders for plans and paintings, +designs and drawings, and were refreshed by a golden shower whereof the +Marquise had her quiet but legitimate share. + +The philosopher contented himself with the post of chief adviser and +sole confidant of the beneficent lady. For, though her intention to +erect a chapel could not be concealed, the locality of the realization +of her plans remained a secret, and was, in fact, privately regarded by +Mark,--where the philosopher hoped it would remain,--as poesy hath it, +in the air. + +Meanwhile, the comparative freedom of intercourse which reigned among +the younger members of the party was approved by the Marquise as an +American custom sanctioned, under the circumstances, by heaven, as an +aid in its answer to her prayers; but the little lieutenant, like a dog +that has slipped its leash, was puzzled by an unaccustomed liberty, and +found himself unable to conduct himself gracefully in a novel role. He +knew that the joyous freedom befitting intercourse with Claire and +Celestine was not the tone for present conditions, but for similar +conditions he knew no other. If, after preliminary negotiation on the +part of his elders, he had been introduced into the presence of the +object of his love, himself clad _en frac_, and had found his adored +robed in white and carefully disposed upon a fauteuil--with the +properties thus arranged, he felt he could have borne himself worthily +as one acceptable and with honorable intentions. But thus to be allowed +to approach the object of a passion (which, he assured his mama, was now +at a white heat), to converse familiarly, surrounding ears being +inattentive and surrounding eyes uninterested; to be expected to +interchange views freely pronounced by lips such as he had supposed were +silent until unsealed by matrimony--these things puzzled and embarrassed +him. Perhaps it was fortunate that such attempts as he made to tell his +love were not understood by the object of his devotion. Paula's +understanding of French, though it had achieved plaudits and prizes at +school, did not suffice for the purpose, and the lieutenant was innocent +of any modern language other than his own, while against his frequent +efforts of an ocular character Paula's serenity was proof, though +occasionally disturbed by the manifestations of that which she supposed +was a severe nervous disorder of the eyes of her companion, and for +which she pitied him; and, as to the sonnet which he slipped into her +hand, it being beyond her construing powers, she handed it to Mrs. Joe, +who read it and laughed. + +But though she laughed at a production designed to draw tears, but for +it, she had probably paid little heed to an occurrence which about this +time attracted her attention. + +She was in the Church of St. Roch, Paula at her side, and, near at hand, +Mark and Natalie. St. Roch is an ancient and gloomy edifice, and the +lady had found no suggestions for her chapel in its sombre interior. She +turned to leave, when her attention was arrested by a tableau. Natalie's +hand rested upon Mark's shoulder, and both stood as if transfixed, and +gazing at something which Mrs. Joe could not see. + +Had it not been for the sonnet and the reflections to which it had given +rise, she would have at once admitted the palpable fact that the girl, +absorbed by that upon which she gazed, was oblivious of the touch with +which she had involuntarily arrested the steps of her companion. With +head bent forward, her faculties were enchained by that which she saw +with eyes in which wonder, compassion and wistful yearning were +combined. + +It was a young woman upon whom the girl's rapt gaze rested. She had been +kneeling at the grating of a confessional from which the priest had just +departed. A smothered cry, and the abandon with which the penitent had +thrown herself upon the stone floor of the mural chapel, had attracted +Natalie's attention, and unconsciously she had laid her hand on Mark's +shoulder to arrest steps which might disturb that which, at first +supposed to be devotion, was quickly recognized as the agony of grief. + +For a moment the observers thought the woman had fainted, so still she +lay after that smothered cry, and Natalie had taken a step forward to +lend aid, when a convulsive shudder shook the prostrate form, and then +the woman rose to her knees. Dry-eyed, her long, black hair hanging in +disorder, her white face and great, dark eyes gleaming from beneath +heavy brows and long silken lashes, she knelt, holding high a photograph +upon which she gazed, a living statue of woe. + +Mark was hardly less moved than Natalie, but more quickly remembered +that he, at least, had no business with this sorrow. As he moved, the +unconscious hand of his companion fell from his shoulder, and in the +same moment the mourner rose and her eyes met Natalie's. + +Dignified by grief, she was a majestic woman, and handsome; probably +handsomer in her disorder than under the aspect of every day. Perhaps +she instantly read the sympathy in the eyes, no less beautiful than her +own, which were turned upon her. + +"You suffer!" exclaimed Natalie involuntarily. + +"And you rejoice," replied the other, indicating Mark. + +"I have but this." She displayed the colored photograph she had held +toward heaven. A startled exclamation broke from Mark, as he looked. + +"He is dead," said the woman. "To-day was to have been our wedding day, +and he is dead." The tears welled up in the listeners' eyes; the speaker +was tearless, but the silent sympathy impelled her to go on. + +"Three months we lived together," she continued, with Gallic frankness +as to domestic details. "His father refused consent, but to-day, his +birthday, he would have been free: he is dead. His mother pities me," +the woman went on. "She has known love. She promised consolation in +confession--as if a priest could know!" + +"Yet they say that in religion," Natalie commenced timidly---- + +"There is but one religion--Love!" interrupted the other. "You will +know. He"--her glance indicated Mark--"will be your teacher." + +Mark glanced hastily at his cousin. She seemed oblivious of the woman's +words. He moved further away. After awhile Natalie slowly followed; the +woman left the church. + +"Did you notice," asked Mark, as Natalie rejoined him, "how strikingly +that portrait resembled Leonard?" + +She made no answer. Other words than his were ringing in her ears: +"There is but one religion--Love! He will be your teacher," and even +while she sorrowed for the sorrow she had witnessed, a strange thrill +passed through her--was it pain, was it joy? + +The party left the church. Natalie sought the side of Mrs. Joe, leaving +Mark to walk with Paula. The elderly lady asked her who was the person +with whom she had talked. Natalie replied that the woman's name was +Berthe Lenoir, and that she wished to be the speaker's maid, and she +narrated some part of the history that had been briefly told to her. + +"But, my dear," was the comment, "your father must make inquiry as to +her fitness." + +"That, of course," was the answer, and then she was silent. Within a +week Berthe Lenoir entered her service, a woman, who by reason of her +capacity, soon gained the general approval; and for other reasons, the +special approval of a lover of the beautiful. "Her eyes," observed the +lieutenant, "are the eyes which shape destinies." + +Meanwhile, other eyes, belonging to one who believed it in her power to +shape destinies, were watchful. Mrs. Joe had long since resolved that to +be an American statesman, Mark needed an American wife, and since she +had herself trained one for the position, she had no desire to see her +labors rendered fruitless. It had needed merely the opening of her eyes +to enable her to discern that there were other schemes worthy of her +attention, besides that one of the philosopher, of which she herself was +the object, and which, though the gentleman had supposed it hidden, had +been patent to the lady, serving to amuse while it benefited her. She +promptly averted the danger to her plans by confiding to the Marquise +her intentions with regard to Mark and Paula. The noble lady regarded +such matters as entirely controllable by parental edict, and at once +resumed negotiations with the philosopher, who, in the belief that +surrender of his hopes in regard to his daughter would tend to further +those he cherished in respect to himself, acquiesced gracefully in the +inevitable; and there being no ground for further delay, the de +Fleury-Claghorn treaty was duly ratified, to remain, however, a secret +for the present from all the juniors of the party, except from the +lieutenant, whom it was necessary to inform of the need of a +re-transference of his affections. He submitted with sorrow. The charms +of Paula had, as he confided to his mama, made an impression on his +heart which only active service could efface. As to resisting destiny, +it never entered his thoughts. Paula was for Mark, Natalie for him. +There might be consolation. "With such wealth," he suggested, "they will +surely add to her dowry." + +"Let us hope so," replied the Marquise. "Our Cousin Beverley will do +what is possible. Meanwhile, be as charming as possible to Madame Zho +and to Marc, who will have it all." + +"Such luck is iniquitous! Well, since my marriage is deferred, you will +consent that I go to Africa. Love is denied me; I must seek glory. +_Tiens, je suis Francais!_" + +Long before this, Mrs. Joe had exacted from Mark a promise to study at +the University with reasonable diligence. The promise had been kept. A +new semester was about to commence; he was anxious to take the doctoral +degree, hence it was necessary for him to return to Heidelberg. He +hardly regretted it. Of late, constraint had seemed to pervade the +intercourse which had been hitherto so unrestrained, and, above all, +Natalie had been unusually reserved. It was not without some regret that +he departed, yet on the whole content to return to _Burschenfreiheit_ +and fidelity to the creed whose chief article is disdain of +philistinism. + +Mrs. Joe was glad to see him depart before she left for America, where +the surprise intended for him was progressing. But it might take more +time to build a house than make a Doctor of Civil Law; the question was +how to prevent his premature home-coming. + +"I will keep him," said the philosopher, in answer to her confidence as +to her misgivings. "He has promised to visit me when he leaves the +University. When I get him I will hold him." + +The lady looked at the gentleman questioningly. + +"Do not doubt my good faith," he murmured. + +"And you will come with him to America," she suggested. "Perhaps you can +induce the Marquise. And the little soldier--surely, he will brave the +seas if your daughter does so!" + +"An invasion by the Gauls. Why not? I for one shall be enchanted to see +the result of your energy and taste." + +"And Natalie shall see the Tomb in which she is so deeply interested, +while you lay your homage at the feet of Miss Achsah and so fulfill a +long-neglected duty." + +"And at the feet of the chatelaine of Stormpoint. I am impatient for the +day." And it was so arranged, and the lady, declining the proffered +escort of Monsieur, left Paris for Havre, accompanied by Paula. + +"A good fellow!" she thought, as she leaned back in the coupe, applying +to the philosopher that very term which he had flattered himself she +would not apply, "but too anxious to believe that I am his cousin and +not his aunt." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A CONFERENCE OF SPINSTERS CONCERNING A RUNAWAY DAMSEL. + + +Five years have passed since the Claghorn reunion at Heidelberg. The +Professor and philosopher have journeyed to that world concerning which +one of the two claimed certain knowledge, and which the other regarded +as unknowable. Thither we cannot follow them, but since men do not live +for a day, but for all time, we shall doubtless come upon indications +that the lives of these two, the things they said and did, are forces +still. Meanwhile, we must concern ourselves with the living, and of +those with whom we have to do, no one is more noteworthy than Achsah +Claghorn. + +Miss Claghorn was, as the representative of an ancient and very +theological family, a citizen of no little note in Easthampton, the +shady and quiet suburb of the city of Hampton. Her spotless white house +was large; its grounds were, compared with those of her neighbors, +large; the trees in the grounds were very large; the box-plants were +huge of their kind. Miss Achsah herself was small, but by reason of her +manner, which was positive and uncompromising, impressive. She lived as +became her wealth and position, comfortably and without undue regard for +conventionalities. She could afford so to live and had been able to +afford it for many years; ever since she had shared with her brother, +the Reverend Eliphalet, the bounty left to them by that other and +younger brother who had died in California. On the receipt of that +bounty she had retired from her position as schoolmistress, had bought +the large, white house, and, together with Tabitha Cone, had undertaken +to live as she pleased, succeeding in so doing more satisfactorily than +is usual with those fortunate enough to be able to make similar +resolves. Perhaps this was because her desires were more easily +attainable than the desires pertaining to such conditions usually are. + +The position of Tabitha Cone was nominally one of dependence, but, with +a praiseworthy desire to rise superior to such a status, Tabitha +persistently strove to rule her benefactress, which attempts were met +with frequent rebellion. Miss Achsah was, at least intermittently, +mistress of her own house; and both ladies had a lurking consciousness +that she, Achsah, to wit, had reserves of strength which would enable +her to become so permanently, if she were to develop a serious intention +to that end. Both ladies, however, shrank from a struggle with that +possible termination, much enjoying life as they lived it, and with no +desire to terminate an invigorating and pleasing warfare. + +For the rest, Miss Claghorn permitted no slurs to be cast upon her +companion, except such as she herself chose to project. "Tabitha Cone +and I sat on the same bench at school; together we found the Lord. I +knew of no difference between us in those days; I know of none now, +except that I had a rich brother." + +"I am sure, Miss Claghorn, I quite agree with your view," observed +Paula, to whom the words were addressed. + +"Which I hope is a satisfaction to you," replied the lady, her manner +indicating complete indifference as to the fact. "If that is so, why do +you object to my consulting Tabitha Cone about this letter?" looking +over her spectacles at the pretty face. + +"I hoped that my plan would meet your views, and then such consultation +would perhaps be unnecessary, and--and----" + +"And?" echoed Miss Achsah in an uncompromising tone, and regarding her +visitor still more sharply. + +"You know, Miss Claghorn, you sent for me, and were kind enough to say +you desired my advice----" + +"Information, not advice." + +"Don't you think Tabitha Cone will derive a wrong impression if she +reads that letter?" continued the persistent Paula, "Is that quite +fair?" + +"Tabitha Cone understands English--even Ellis Winter's--he says plainly +enough that the girl is an atheist----" + +"Not that, Miss----" + +"A heathen, then--a damned soul" (Paula started palpably). "Splitting +hairs about terms don't alter the essential fact." + +"Nobody can deplore the truth more than I; but to risk its being made a +subject of gossip----" + +"Tabitha Cone is not given to tattle. She may gossip with Almighty God +about this matter. She has known Him for many years." + +Paula shuddered. To know Omnipotence in this blunt fashion grated on her +nerves. "I have humbled myself many times and sought her eternal welfare +in prayer," she said. + +"I hope your condescension may ultimately benefit her," snapped the old +lady. "I can't say I have noticed any change, certainly no change for +the better." + +"I referred to Natalie." + +"Oh, and so that is the way to pronounce the outlandish name. My nephew +Eliphalet's mother's name was Susan; my own name has been in the family +two hundred years--well, and if Ellis Winter is right, your humblings +seem to have done but little good. Perhaps those of the despised Tabitha +Cone may have more effect, even if unaccompanied with flummery----" + +"Miss Claghorn, you are not generally unjust." + +"Never. But I get tired of millinery in religion. Ah! if only you would +humble yourself--but there! I suppose you intone the prayer for your +daily bread. Pah!" + +Paula rose majestically. + +"Sit down, child; I didn't mean to offend you. (The Lord has infinite +patience and pity, and so for imbeciles, I suppose)" she said +parenthetically and in a subdued tone, which was not heard by the +visitor, who sat down, having an object in being both meek and +persistent, a fact of which Miss Claghorn was aware. It was a sore +temptation to let Paula have her wish, but, all the while she knew she +must finally resolve to do her duty. It was that knowledge which gave +acrimony to her speech. + +"Paula," she said, "I ought not to have asked you to come here about +this matter. I knew what you would desire and hoped you would be able to +persuade me; I ought to have known myself better. I must do my duty; she +must come to me." + +"But, dear Miss Claghorn----" + +"She is a Claghorn, and--dreadful as it is--a heathen as well, and alone +in the world. I must do my duty; it is not easy, I assure you." + +Paula quite believed this, and the belief did not add to her hope of +success. When Miss Claghorn desired to do things which, in the eyes of +others, were better left undone, she was apt to see her duty in such +action. It was equally true that her duty being visible, she would do +it, even if disagreeable. But the duty now before her was, for many +reasons, very disagreeable, indeed, and strictly just as she was, she +was but human, and the righteous indignation she felt for her own +vacillation fell naturally in part upon Paula. + +"At least do not let that letter prejudice you," urged Paula. "She is a +sweet girl, as good as gold." + +"Very likely. Gold is dross. Good girls do not deny their Maker." + +This was indisputable. Paula sighed. "I am very sorry we cannot have +her," was all she said. + +Miss Claghorn looked at her thoughtfully and with some inward qualms at +her own harshness. There was an opportunity to seasonably drop a word +which for some time she had been considering as ready to be dropped, and +which, if heeded, might have some consolation for the girl before her. + +"You can have her--on one condition. Come now, Paula!" + +"What is that?" asked the girl, hope in her eyes; some misgiving, too, +for there was that in Miss Claghorn's expression which aroused it. + +"Stop your shilly-shally with that little milliner-man, Arthur Cameril, +and marry him. Then Natalie can pay you a good long visit." + +This was more than a Christian ought to bear. Paula could do her duty, +too. + +"Miss Claghorn, Father Cameril has taken the vow of celibacy. The fact +is well known. I am contemplating the same. I wish you good-morning," +and so Paula majestically sailed away. + +"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Miss Achsah, as her visitor let herself out of +the front door; and then, not disturbed, but in the belief that she had +performed another disagreeable duty, she commenced the re-perusal of a +letter in her hand. Which letter was as follows: + + "Dear Miss Claghorn--Your grand-niece, Natalie, has arrived in + this country. She naturally at once communicated with me, and I + find her situation somewhat perplexing. To speak frankly, she + has run away from home. It was her father's wish that she + remain in the household of the Marquise de Fleury, and she has + lived with that lady since Mr. Claghorn's death. But it seems + that for some time past the guardian has tried to induce the + ward to marry against her inclinations. + + "I think there can be no doubt that the influences brought to + bear on your grand-niece amounted to persecution, and I am + disposed to regard her action as justified, having received + from the Marquise (who was apprised of her destination by your + niece) a letter, written in such a tone as to leave no doubt in + my mind that the statements made to me by Miss Natalie are + correct. + + "The plan of your grand-niece is to live independently in this + country. For the present this would be most imprudent. She is + very young, and though by no means inexperienced in the ways of + the world, is very foreign. She is quite resolute in her + determination, and is aware that her property, in my charge, + aside from some French possessions, is ample for her support. + Do not gather that she is not amenable to advice, or is + inclined to be obstinate. This is not the case, but she has + evidently had an unpleasant experience of guardianship, and is + quite resolved under no circumstances to permit any disposition + of herself matrimonially. This resolve is the foundation of her + intention to remain independent, an intention which no doubt + will be easily combated with her advance in knowledge of our + American customs in this regard. + + "It would be unfair, having shown you the only shadows + connected with Beverley's daughter, were I to withhold the + commendation justly due her. With such acquaintance as I had + formed with her on the occasion of my visit to France, I + gathered a good opinion of one whom, indeed, I only knew as a + child. That opinion has been strengthened by occasional + correspondence and by the personal observation of the last + fortnight. She seems to be a charming girl, remarkably + beautiful, with a mind of her own, and, doubtless, a will of + her own; nevertheless, a person that would be an acquisition in + any household. Were I blessed with a domestic circle, I should + be well content to have Miss Natalie enter it; but, as you + know, I am not so fortunate. + + "I hesitate to mention one other detail, yet feel that you + ought to be fully informed; and while I can, believe me, + appreciate the standpoint from which you will regard that which + I have to disclose, I beg you to take a charitable view of a + matter which, to one of your rooted and cherished convictions, + will be of transcendent importance. It is that your grand-niece + is in religion a free-thinker, and rejects the Christian faith. + + "To you, as the representative of the Claghorn family, a family + which for generations has upheld the standard of purest + orthodoxy, this information will come as a shock. Yet when I + assure you that Miss Natalie's views (such as they are) are + probably held rather from a sense of filial duty and affection + than from conviction, the facts will, I am sure, appeal to your + compassion, as well as to that stern sense of duty and justice + so admirably exhibited in your life. For many years I have been + aware that the late Beverley had trained his daughter in + accordance with a theory which repudiated tenets sacred in your + eyes. My only reason for never imparting the fact to you was + because the knowledge could only be a grief to one who held the + Claghorn traditions in reverence. The interest you occasionally + displayed concerning one who had chosen to be an exile was, I + believe, always satisfied as far as in my power, except as to + this one particular. I regret now that I withheld a knowledge + which circumstances have made important. I did wrong, but I + need not ask you not to connect my wrong-doing with the claims + of your grand-niece. + + "Kindly consider this letter carefully and let me hear from you + soon. Perhaps an invitation to spend a part or all of the + coming summer with you would lead to an easy solution of the + difficulties presented. Your grand-niece is at present staying + with my friend, Mrs. Leon, who will be pleased that she remain; + but I foresee that the young lady herself will object to that. + + "With regards to Miss Cone, believe me, + + "Respectfully yours, ELLIS WINTER." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A MAIDEN FAIR, A MODERN EARLY FATHER AND A THEOLOGIAN. + + +Paula emerged from the White House in an un-Christian frame of mind. The +fact might to an ordinary sinner seem pardonable, and Paula herself, +though by no means an ordinary sinner, thought so, too. "Impertinent +bigot!" In these unusually emphatic words she mentally expressed her +opinion of Achsah Claghorn. + +From several points of view Paula was not an ordinary sinner. +Externally, she was a very pleasing one, being in all things alluring to +the eye. So nicely adjusted were her physical proportions that it could +not be said that she was either tall or short, plump or meagre. A +similar neutrality characterized the tints of her skin and hair. Her +cheeks were never red, yet never pale; the much-used adjective "rosy" +would not properly describe the dainty tinge that, without beginning or +end, or line of demarcation, redeemed her face from pallor. Her nose was +neither long nor short, upturned or beak-like, and while no man could +say that it was crooked and remain a man of truth, yet would no +truth-lover say that it was straight. In all respects a negative nose, +in no respect imperfect. Her skin, ears, neck, hands, feet--all were +satisfying, yet not to be described by superlatives. Her hair was +neither chestnut nor yellow, nor quite smooth nor kinky, but in color +and adjustment restful; her eyes were nearly violet, and their brows and +lashes just sufficiently decided to excite no comment. Paula's mouth was +perhaps the only feature which, apart from the charming whole, demanded +notice, and he who noticed sorrowed, for it was a mouth inviting, yet +not offering kisses. + +It is believed that it will be admitted that outwardly Paula Lynford was +not an ordinary sinner. Nor was she such as to the inner being, if she +herself could be believed; for at this period of her existence she was +accustomed to introspection, and that habit had disclosed to her that +she was very bad, indeed, "vile," as she fondly phrased it, or in +moments of extreme exaltation, "the vilest of the vile." + +A serene consciousness of vileness was a recent growth in her bosom. +Father Cameril (so known to a very small but devoted band of +worshippers--to the world at large, the Reverend Arthur Cameril) was +fond of dwelling upon human and his own vileness, and his adorers +desired to be such as he. Nor did the Reverend Father deny them this +delight, but rather encouraged their perception of the unworthiness +indicated by the unpleasant word which had been caught from him by the +dames and damsels who rejoiced in him and in their own turpitude. Father +Cameril was, in a very limited circle, quite the rage in the vicinity. +Since his advent spiritual titillation had been discovered in candles, +attitudes, novel genuflexions and defiance of the Bishop, a wary old +gentleman, who was resolved to evade making a martyr of Father Cameril, +being, from long observation, assured that sporadic sputterings of +ultra-ritualism were apt to flicker and die if not fanned by opposition. +The good Father, meanwhile, unaware that the Bishop had resolved that no +stake should be implanted for his burning, whereby he was to be an +illumination to the Church, tasted in advance the beatitude of +martyrdom, and reveled in mysterious grief and saint-like resignation +and meekness, and while hopefully expectant, he added to his inner joys +and the eccentricity of his outward man by peculiar vesture of the +finest quality, beneath which the fond and imaginative eyes of his +followers saw, as in a vision, a hair shirt. He was known to aspire to +knee-breeches, and was hopefully suspected of considering a tonsure as a +means of grace and a sign of sanctity. His little church, St. Perpetua, +the new and beautiful edifice erected by Mrs. Joseph Claghorn, of +Stormpoint, in memory of her husband (an offence in Miss Claghorn's +Calvinistic eyes, and regarded askance by Leonard), was crowded every +Sunday at Mass, a function which was also celebrated daily at an hour +when most people were still abed; Paula always, the night watchman, +about going off duty occasionally, and three elderly ladies, blue and +shivering, in attendance. Father Cameril was Miss Claghorn's special +aversion. Tabitha Cone found in him much to admire. He was a good little +man, inordinately vain, somewhat limited in intellect, and unconscious +of wrong-doing. He prayed that the Church might be led from the path of +error in which she obstinately chose to remain, and, by canonizing Henry +VIII, display works meet for repentance; in which case he would hesitate +no longer, but return home, that is, to the maternal bosom of Rome, at +once. + +As Paula saw the good Father coming down the street, holding in his +yellow-gloved hand a bright-red little book, the redness whereof set off +the delicate tint of the glove, while its gilded edges gleamed in the +sunlight, she was more than usually conscious of the vileness which +should have been meekness, even while her anger grew hotter at the +insult offered by Miss Claghorn to the natty little man approaching, +"like an early Father," she murmured, though any resemblance between the +Reverend Arthur in kid gloves and aetat 28, and Polycarp, for instance, +was only visible to such vision as Paula's. + +"You seem disturbed," he said, as the two gloved hands met in delicate +pressure, and he uttered the usual sigh. + +"A cherished hope," she answered, her clear violet eyes bent downward, +"has been dashed." + +"We must bear the cross; let us bear it worthily. I have been pained at +not seeing you at confession, Paula. You neglect a means of lightening +the burden of the spirit." + +"My cousin objects, Father. I owe her the obedience of a daughter." + +"You owe a higher obedience"--here his voice had that tone of sternness +always sweet to the meek ears of his followers. "Nevertheless," he +added, "do not act against her wish. I will, myself, see Mrs. Claghorn. +Meanwhile, bear your burdens with resignation, always remembering the +weakness, yea, the vileness of the human heart." + +"I strive," said Paula, looking very miserable and unconsciously taking +an illustration from a heavily-laden washerwoman passing, "not to faint +by the wayside, but the load of life is heavy." + +"But there are times when the heart's vileness is forgotten, the soul +rises above its burdens and feels a foretaste of the life to come," +interrupted Father Cameril a little confusedly as to the senses of the +soul. "Try to rise to those heights." + +"I do. May I ask your special intercession for a soul in darkness? One +that I had hoped to gain." + +"Hope on and pray. I shall not forget your request. The name is----" + +"Natalie, the daughter of Mr. Beverley Claghorn. You have heard us +mention them. Mr. Claghorn is dead. Until now she has lived in France, +where she was born. I hope to see her soon at Easthampton." + +"At Stormpoint! How pleasant for you! Paula, we shall rescue this dear +child from the errors of a schismatic mother. I feel it here," and the +Reverend Arthur indicated his bosom. + +Paula recognized in the schismatic mother the Roman Catholic Church. She +felt it sinful to leave Father Cameril in ignorance of the facts. She +felt it unkind to her friend to disclose them. She could sin, if hard +pushed; she could not be unkind. She concealed the unbelief. + +"We knew them some years since in Europe," she said. "I mean Mr. +Claghorn and Natalie. She is a sweet girl; but she will visit at Miss +Claghorn's." + +The Reverend Arthur's face fell. Above all earthly things he dreaded +sinners of the type of Achsah Claghorn. "The situation will be +difficult," he murmured. "But truth will prevail," he added, more +cheerily. "Truth must prevail." + +Which assurance made the girl uncomfortable, because she knew that his +prayers and his labors would be directed against mere schism, whereas +the case required the application of every spiritual engine at command. + +So that she was not sorry that he left her, after presenting her with +the little red book and urging her to read the same. + +Stormpoint was not inaptly named. A huge crag jutting out into the sea, +whose waves, ever darting against its granite sides, rolled off with a +continuous muffled bellow of baffled rage, which, when the storm was +on, rose to a roar. A cabin had once stood on the bluff, which, +tradition asserted, had been the home of the first Eliphalet Claghorn, +whose crumbling tomb, with its long and quaint inscription, was hard by. +The Reverend Eliphalet slept quiet in death, but the howl of the storm +and the roar of the waves must have kept him awake on many a night in +life. Even the stately castle erected by Joseph Claghorn's widow often +trembled from the shock of the blast. The region about was strewn with +huge boulders, evidences of some long-past upheaval of nature, while +among the crags great trees had taken root. The landscape was majestic, +but the wind-swept soil was barren, and the place had remained a waste. +Only a fortune, such as had been derived from the Great Serpent, could +make the Point comfortable for habitation. But the task had been +accomplished, and Stormpoint was the second wonder of Easthampton, the +first being the wonderful chapel, St. Perpetua. + +Paula gloried in Stormpoint. Not for its grandeur or the money it had +cost, but because she loved the breeze and the sea and the partial +isolation. Even now, as she ascended the bluff by a side path, rugged +and steep, and commenced to smell the ocean and feel its damp upon her +cheek, the Reverend Arthur Cameril seemed less like an early Father, and +his lemon-colored kids less impressive. + +On hearing her name called and looking up, she smiled more brightly and +looked more beautiful than she had yet looked that day, though, from the +moment she had emerged from her morning bath of salt water she had been +beautiful. "Aha! Leonard, is that you?" she exclaimed. + +"Where have you been?" asked Leonard, as he reached her side. + +"At Miss Claghorn's. She sent for me." + +Leonard's eyes opened wide. "Cousin Achsah sent for you! What for?" + +"She will tell you." + +"And you won't. Well, I must wait. What have you there?" taking the +little red book from her hand. "'The Lives of the Hermits!' Oh, Paula; +you had better read the 'Lives of the Laundresses'; these were a very +dirty set." + +"Leonard! How can you? A clergyman, a professor of theology!" + +"Oh, I've no objection to them except that," he answered, "and I +wouldn't mention their favorite vanity if they had not so reveled in it +and plumed themselves upon it. Paula, Paula," he added, more seriously, +"Father Cameril gave you that." + +He was vexed, perhaps jealous of Father Cameril, though if so, he was +unconscious, ascribing his vexation to a different source. He had a +hearty contempt for the silly flummery, as he mentally described it, +practised by Father Cameril, and he hated to know that Paula was enticed +by it. She understood and was neither without enjoyment of his vexation +nor resentment that he would not express it in words. She would have +liked him to forbid the reading of the little book. It would have been a +sign of steadfastness to disobey; it might have been a greater pleasure +to obey. + +"Well, read the book, if you can stomach it," he said. "I doubt if you +will derive any benefit. I must be going. When you and Cousin Achsah +take to plotting, I must investigate. Good-bye." + +"Leonard, did you know that Natalie is in New York, that she has come to +America to live?" + +"Natalie in New York! Your news amazes me. She will come here, of +course?" + +"Not to Stormpoint," she answered regretfully. "To your cousin's, Miss +Claghorn." + +He looked his surprise. "To live there! That surely will never do." + +"Oh, Leonard, I am so glad you agree with me. I tried to persuade Miss +Claghorn to let her come to us. Think of it! Alone with those two old +women and their quarrels. That gloomy house! It's dreadful!" + +"It certainly will not do for Natalie," he observed, thoughtfully. "I +wish, Paula, my cousin had consulted me rather than you." + +"Why, Leonard! You don't suppose I did not urge all I could?" + +"That's just it. Cousin Achsah is, of her kind, a very fine specimen, +and I am her favorite and bound to respect and love her, as I do--but a +nature like hers and one like yours are antagonistic." + +"Then, since you respect and--and----" + +"And love her, you think I don't respect and love you; but you know +better, Paula." + +She blushed at the snare the echo of his words had led her into. He was +not so conscious. "As I remember Natalie," he said, "she was amiable and +nice in all points--still she and my cousin----" + +"They will be absolutely incomprehensible to each other," said Paula. +"Do try and have her consent to let Natalie come to Stormpoint." + +"I will do what I can. Has Mrs. Joe invited her?" + +"She will be only too glad as soon as she knows. But the matter has been +placed in such a light by that tiresome Mr. Winter--but there, you will +find out everything from your cousin. Do what you can." + +"I will. What happy days they were, those days in Heidelberg." + +The violet eyes were tender with reminiscence, the pretty mouth +seductive. "They were the happiest of my life," she said. + +"And of mine," echoed Leonard, as he walked off, having seen neither +mouth nor eyes, but a vision of the past. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE ADVANTAGES OF TREADING THE BORDERLAND OF VICE. + + +Among the diversions indulged in at Heidelberg, during the accidental +reunion of the Claghorns, there had been one particularly affected by +Professor and philosopher. The early education of these two had been +identical; their later training had progressed on widely diverging +lines. The Reverend Jared had continued in the path in which his +footsteps had been placed in childhood, while Beverley had wandered far. +Yet, being by inheritance as nearly alike as may be two who, descended +from a common ancestor, partake of marked ancestral traits, agreement +between them in reference to a matter wherein their views clashed was +impossible; which fact had sufficed to lend a charm to disputation. + +A favorite theme of discussion had been discovered in the serious +problems connected with the training of youth. The clergyman had a son +who embodied his theories; the philosopher was the father of a daughter +educated upon a plan of his own. Each was paternally satisfied with +results so far, and each hoped for further development equally +gratifying. + +The philosopher preached from a text which may be briefly stated in the +words of the proverb, which informs us that "Familiarity breeds +contempt." He would apply this maxim to evil and use knowledge as the +shield of youth. Whereas the Professor, relying upon the truth contained +in the adage, "Ignorance is bliss," and maintaining that modified bliss +in this world and perfect bliss in the world to come are the proper +objects of man's endeavor, logically contended that ignorance of evil, a +thing in its nature sure to breed sorrow, was to be encouraged. + +"The true way to appreciate the dangers which must inevitably beset +youth is to become familiar with them. Distance lends enchantment. That +closer inspection of vice which may be derived from acquaintance with +its borderland, wherein the feet of the novice may be taught to tread +warily, will result in indifference, if not disgust. As long as there is +ignorance there will be curiosity, which is more dangerous than +knowledge." Thus had spoken the philosopher. To which the Professor had +replied: "Yet I will not assume that you wish your daughter to tread the +borderland of vice?" + +"Certainly I do; limiting her steps to the borderland of the vices to +which she is to be exposed. I admit that a man cannot, as readily as a +woman, take cognizance of such vices. It is my misfortune and my +daughter's that her mother died at her birth; but I have endeavored to +make her superior to the glaring defects of her sex. She is not petty. +She yearns neither for bonnets nor beatitudes. Without attempting, in +the ignorance inseparable from my sex, to instruct her in detail, I have +always had in view the enlargement of her mind." + +"By educating her as a Frenchwoman!" + +"Pardon me, no. Much as I admire the French, I do not approve their +system of female education, which, by the way, resembles the course you +have pursued with your son. I do not question its frequent excellent +results, nor can I question its failures. My daughter's schooling has +been only partially French. Travel and indiscriminate reading--I have +largely relied on these." + +"I am willing to admit, Cousin, that the apparent results in those +matters which you deem of most importance ought to be gratifying. It is +no exaggeration to say that my young cousin is a charming girl. But her +life has not been lived." + +"No. Therefore, we cannot fairly speculate as to the outcome. Meanwhile, +as far as my system has reached, it is gratifying, as you confess." + +"The same can be said of mine." + +"Doubtless. But has your son's life been lived? Thus far, you have as +much reason for satisfaction as I have. I hope that you will never be +compelled to admit that innocence, based on ignorance, is a weak barrier +to oppose to the inevitable temptations which beset young men." + +"Innocence fortified by religious principle, early instilled," had been +the solemn reply. + +M. Claghorn understood the solemnity and braved the possible results of +a confession which he was willing to make rather than be further exposed +to the occasional somewhat annoying admonitory tone of his companion. + +"I am a living example of the futility of that contention," he answered. +"I do not wish to be understood as admitting that I have been unduly +addicted to vice, which would not be true; but I have tasted of +forbidden fruit. I found it unsatisfactory. I base my theory on careful +observation and some personal experience." + +Cousin Jared groaned inwardly, but made no answer. Exhortation was on +his tongue's end, but, as the philosopher had desired, he recognized its +futility. + +Indulgence in wine was one of those vices which the Reverend Jared had +found reprehensible, a practice which it grieved him to observe was +permitted by the lax views of all those Claghorns, except himself and +Leonard, who were sojourning together. It is not to be assumed that +these people indulged in unseemly intoxication. Of so untoward a result +the Professor had no fear. He objected to wine-drinking as offering an +evil example. The fact that in so doing he discredited the first miracle +of his Saviour was a difficulty easily surmounted by a nimble +theologian. + +"You are so fierce about wine that one would think you had a personal +hatred toward liquor," Beverley had said to him laughingly. + +"I have, 'Liph. Jeremiah Morley----" He said no more, remembering who +Jeremiah Morley had been. + +"It is fanaticism, Jared; absolutely incomprehensible. Your son, even +though a clergyman, must live in the world. I don't say make him +worldly, but don't let him remain in complete ignorance. He is a +handsome fellow, amiable, intelligent--really too good for a parson." + +"Which you intended to be; which your father, grandfather and +great-grandfather were." + +"Don't think I depreciate them. But your boy is hardly formed on the +Claghorn pattern. He has probably more of the Morleys. His mother must +have been a very beautiful woman, if he resembles her." + +"As good as she was beautiful," sighed the widower. "Yes, Leonard +resembles the Morleys--the best of them." + +And so the discussion had terminated. It has been recorded here to +indicate paternal views as to the education of youth. In the practice of +the views he held, Professor Claghorn had been ably seconded by an +excellent and pious wife, and had he been alive to see the result in the +young man who had just left Paula Lynford, he must assuredly have +observed the proved soundness of his theories and practice. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A YOUTH OF PROMISE, A FEMALE POLITICIAN AND A YELLOW MAN. + + +Paula watched Leonard until he disappeared. Then she sighed. Long ago +Beverley Claghorn had paid a similar tribute to the charms which +extorted the sigh. In Paula's eyes the attractions which pertained to +Leonard were lost in the sect to which he belonged. As a priest of the +Church (it was thus that she put it) he would have been externally +perfect, his physical excellence of unspeakable value to the cause of +pure truth, while his conception of the priestly role would have been +even nobler than that of Father Cameril. Leonard would have been no meek +saint, but a saint militant, and long ere this the Bishop would have +been down upon him, to the episcopal discomfiture. + +If Paula grieved that Leonard labored under the disadvantage of the +rigid practice of his denomination as to vesture and pulpit accessories, +to those by whom such disadvantages were unrecognized his personality +was no less persuasive of his fitness for noble deeds. As a rising +theologian and young teacher of the divine science, he was, to those who +watched his course, of excellent promise; destined to be a defender of +that ancient creed which of late had been often attacked by able, if +deluded, foes. To him orthodoxy looked with confidence, as to one who, +when the day of battle came, would valiantly assail the enemies without, +and confound the machinations of those within the household of faith. A +worthy successor of his father, Professor Jared Claghorn, and to be +greater, as better equipped to meet skeptical reasoning with reason +clarified by faith; to demonstrate that the eye of the philosopher is +but a feeble instrument for scrutiny of the works of God. + +He was not ignorant of the general estimate or of the hopes of his +elders, and had long been accustomed to fit himself for the position he +was destined to fill, but of these aspirations he was oblivious as he +walked slowly toward the town. He had never forgotten his father's words +as to Natalie's unbelief. They were part of the memory of her, and now +that memory was reawakened, and the words sounded again in his ears. He +was deeply stirred by the knowledge that an errant soul was about to +enter the inner circle of his life. He saw the hand of Providence in the +fact; it was for this that she had not been turned from infidelity to +error. She would not find the way to heaven by the dim rays of the +obscured light of Romanism, but by the purer light of a reformed and +vitalized religion, and to him was to be given the glory of being +heaven's instrument. He was ambitious; his eyes had long been set on +such earthly honors as come to theologians; he was prepared to welcome +the theological storm of which the forecasts were already visible to +those of clear perception, such as his own. In that impending struggle +he knew that he would bear himself worthily, yet no glory that he could +rightly anticipate therefrom seemed now so pleasing, nor awakened more +fervent hope than that just born within him, the hope of rescuing a +single soul. That glory would transcend all other, for though from men +his work might be hidden, in the eyes of God he would be a faithful and +worthy servant, and would hear from heaven the inaudible words, "Well +done." + +Exaltation such as this had long been rare with Leonard, whose mind of +late had been fascinated rather by the mysteries of doctrine than warmed +by religious fervor; and he was himself surprised that this ardent +desire for a soul should enchain him; but he was gratified. To save +souls was the ultimate object of his teaching; he was glad of this +evidence that he had not forgotten it. + +It may be that other thoughts, memories of bygone days, arose in his +mind. Perhaps he recalled the beauty that had so attracted him in the +garden of the Red Ox. There may have been some stirring of the blood of +youth, which of late had sometimes coursed tingling through his veins; +sometimes when he held Paula's hand, or noted the peachy velvet of her +cheek, the clear depths of her eyes. But, if it were so, he was +unconscious. + +Meanwhile, Paula, who in the face of Miss Claghorn's fiat, still hoped +to rescue Natalie from the impending horrors of the White House, turned +toward the mansion. Her main reliance lay in anticipating the summons of +Miss Achsah by an urgent invitation from the mistress of Stormpoint, to +which end it was essential to seek that lady without further delay. +Suddenly, as she hurried on, an exclamation of annoyance escaped her, +and her steps were arrested by the sight of an ancient and mud-encrusted +buggy which stood near that entrance to the house toward which her own +steps were tending. She recognized the equipage of Mr. Hezekiah Hacket, +and recent observation had taught her that when Mr. Hacket's carriage +stopped that way, the lady of Stormpoint was not accessible to persons +of minor distinction. + +Aside from her general disapproval of Mr. Hacket, whose buggy, beneath +its coating of mud, was yellow, and who was himself a yellow man, with +teeth, hair, eyes and skin all of that unattractive hue, and unlovely in +consequence of his pervading tint, Paula had no reason, so far as she +knew, to resent Mr. Hacket's presence, except that it interfered with +access to Mrs. Joe. Had she been aware of that which was transpiring in +that apartment of the mansion which was devoted to business of state, +she would have known that the visit of the gentleman was to have an +important bearing upon her wish to deprive Miss Achsah of the +opportunity to convert her erring grand-niece to Calvinism; which dark +design Paula, since her meeting with Father Cameril, suspected. + +Hezekiah Hacket, externally no more noteworthy than any very ordinary +man and brother, was, in fact, an important personage in that region +where Mrs. Joseph Claghorn had replanted the California branch of the +family tree, intending that it should flourish and mightily expand. The +shrewd lady of Stormpoint had quickly discovered that Mr. Hacket, the +man of business of the Seminary, as well as of everybody that required +the services of a man of business, possessed a sphere of influence +eminently worthy of cultivation by political aspirants; and in all the +region round about there was no such aspirant whose ambition soared as +high as hers. In a realm largely dominated by a theological seminary, +the existence of the political potentate called "Boss" was ignored and +the word was seldom heard; but Mr. Hacket was the thing, and, all +unconscious, the Seminary voted as its political guardian wished. Not +the Seminary only; as the investor of the funds of others, this +personage controlled the sources of power, and while deftly avoiding +concentration of the secret antagonism which he knew existed against +himself, by never exposing himself to the vengeance of the ballot, Mr. +Hacket named the candidates for office--not infrequently those of +opposing sides, so that in close elections, when a rolling wave of +reform rendered the outlook uncertain, as in those not close, he +remained the winner. Financially, he was strictly, though only legally, +honest. Politically, he was a rogue. He was a pious man, though without +a conscience and without belief. His industry was untiring. The lady of +Stormpoint disliked him, at times to the point of loathing, and she +courted him and smiled upon him. + +"I sent for you," she said, on his appearance at Stormpoint, and +offering a fair hand and an agreeable smile, both of which Mr. Hacket +pretended not to see, it being his pleasant way to rule by insolence--if +possible, by cringing if need were--"because in a few months my son will +return home." + +Mr. Hacket smoothed his yellow jaws with a freckled hand, and replied, +"Just so," while the lady, who secretly desired to shake him, smiled yet +more agreeably. + +"Before he left home the last time," she continued, seeing that her +visitor intended to remain dumb, "he had made many acquaintances. This +was in accordance with your advice. What is he to do now?" + +"Make more acquaintances." + +"That, of course. I want him to enter the next Legislature." + +Mr. Hacket had not decided that the desire expressed by the lady was his +own, but he was shrewd enough to know that, crude as her ideas might be, +and defective her knowledge of things political, she had the energy to +attain her desire in the end, if seconded by the efforts of her +candidate. He hated innovation, but he was aware that the Great Serpent +held potentialities which he must not antagonize. It was not possible +for him to be pleasing to Mrs. Joe, nor for her to be pleasing to him; +but it was prudent to seem sympathetic. He essayed it, awkwardly enough. + +"You know," he said, "your son is young and his only merit is money." + +She flushed; but she knew he could not help being insolent in the +presence of grace, comeliness and luxury, and all these were before him. +"You mean it's the merit by which he's best known. Let it serve until +others become apparent." + +"It'll go far, but some it makes mad. I have an idea your son isn't +over-warm in the matter." + +"He didn't seem so. He wasn't aware that I am serious, and I said but +little to him. Then the country was very new to him, and the people. +He'd been long in Europe; his position was difficult." She had realized +much more keenly than Mr. Hacket that Mark had only followed her urgency +in that matter of making acquaintance because he had wished to please +her. She was sure that there had been some hidden cause for indifference +other than distaste for the task she had set him, and had brooded not a +little over possibilities. But she was sanguine by nature; and since no +love-tale had come to her ears (and she had her observers and reporters) +she had concluded that, whatever the cause of his indifference, her son +would become sufficiently ardent in the furtherance of her plans, when +once they were more fully disclosed to him, and he had become aware that +his mother had set her heart upon a political career for him. At present +he probably regarded her wishes as merely a passing whim, and she knew +that he was ignorant of her consultations with Mr. Hacket. + +"Positions are apt to be difficult," observed the gentleman. "However, +it's much too soon to discuss nominations. He'll have a year before +him." + +"He must have the Seminary," she said, "when the time comes." + +"When the time comes," he echoed. He did not intend to commit himself, +but he was becoming each moment more convinced that the lady knew her +value and wished him to perceive the fact. It was equally evident that +she duly appreciated his own; was, in fact, afraid of him, a pleasing +assurance, which would have been yet more delightful if the gentleman, +simultaneously with the recognition of this truth, had not also +recognized a less agreeable fact, namely, that he was also afraid of +her; sufficiently so to make it advisable that she understand he was not +trifling with her. Such advice as he might give must seem reasonable, +and must go beyond the suggestion of making acquaintances. + +"You're working the Sem. all right," he said as graciously as he could. +"Keep it up, but don't overdo it. How's Miss Achsah feel?" + +"Friendly to Mark, I'm sure; not unfriendly to me, though----" + +"Though your church sticks in her--is hard to swallow. I'm not surprised +at that. St. Perpetual's----" + +"Is there and beyond discussion." + +"I always believe in looking over the whole field. St. Perpetual covers +a good deal of it; so does Miss Achsah, and----" + +"I had no idea that my sister-in-law is a political factor." + +"Her's is, or wants to be." + +"Well, let us conciliate Miss Achsah, if necessary. We're on fair +terms----" + +"Next time the Bishop comes here, invite her to dinner with him." + +"She'll decline." + +"What if she does? You always had the Professor, and she'll see that you +look on her as his successor." + +He rose, as if to go, but hesitated. Not because of any delicacy about +volunteering the counsel that hovered on his lips, but in doubt whether +it might not be well to permit her to injure her aspirations as much as +she could. The certainty that she was, if she cared to be, too +influential to offend him, determined him. He felt, with a sigh, that +the time might come when he might be compelled to share his power; +better that than risk losing it. + +"I was in New York this week and saw Ellis Winter," he said. "Ellis told +me that 'Liph Claghorn's daughter is in this country. He seemed to think +you might invite her here." + +"I intended to do so." + +"Don't. She's French and, I suppose, a Romanist. Winter was +close-mouthed, but I could see there was something. There's talk enough +about idolatry and St. Perpetual's. I happen to know that Miss Achsah +wants her, too, to convert her." + +"Really, Mr. Hacket----" + +"Good-bye," he said. "I've acted on the square. There's more in the +matter than you think." + +After his departure the lady of Stormpoint spent a few moments of +indulgence in silent indignation; but when Paula came and preferred the +request for that urgent invitation to Natalie, which was to circumvent +the designs of Miss Claghorn, she found the lady inclined to recognize +the claims of that person. Nevertheless, she promised to send the +invitation, and did so that afternoon. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE DEVIL WALKS TO AND FRO IN HAMPTON. + + +The ancient city of Hampton and its Theological Seminary are well known. +To the wanderer under the elms of the quaint old town there is imparted +an impression of cleanliness and a serene complacency, derived, +doubtless, from the countenances of the many who, clad in sombre vesture +and clean linen, pass and repass in the quiet streets. No man can be +long in Hampton without feeling the theological influence; unconsciously +the wayfarer adopts the prevailing manner, becomes deliberate in his +walk and grave of aspect; his moral tone acquires rigidity, his taste +severity; he inwardly rejoices if clad in fitting black and secretly +covets gold-rimmed spectacles. + +The best hotel, facing the Square, has the Hampton air, being even +severely theological in aspect. Ordinary commercial travelers prefer +"The United States," also a grave hostelry, though less austere in tone; +but some descend at "The Hampton," reverend appearing gentlemen these, +with white chokers conspicuous, and dealing in churchly wares and +theological publications. + +In this house Leonard had lived since his father's death had made the +old home desolate, being, by reason of his personal as well as his +professional attributes, a guest of note; and here there happened to him +one day a new and strange experience. + +He was breakfasting, later than his usual hour, when he became conscious +of the scrutiny of the strangest eyes he had ever seen--eyes belonging +to a woman, who, plainly clad in traveling attire, faced him from an +adjacent table where she sat, with another woman, whose back was toward +Leonard. + +The gaze, though fixed, was not in appearance intentionally bold. The +woman's eyes, dreamy, languishing, seemed to sink into his own, as +though seeking what might be in the depths they tried to penetrate. It +was as though, for them, the veil behind which man hides his inner self +was lifted, and a sense of pleasure stole over him and willingness to +surrender to this scrutiny; withal a shrinking from disclosure of that +which he instinctively felt was unknown, even to himself. It required +some effort to rise and leave the room. + +An hour later, while waiting for the time of his morning lecture, and +hardly freed as yet from the sensation resulting from his breakfast +experience, while sitting in the spacious hall of the quiet house, he +suddenly became aware of drapery, and looking up, encountered the eyes +again; not as he had been seeing them since he had escaped them, but +again bodily where they belonged, under the heavy brows of a dark-faced, +large, and rather handsome woman. + +"Pardon," she said in musical tones, and with a scarce perceptible smile +at the ruddy flush which mantled his face. "_Est ce Monsieur Claghorn?_" + +"Surely," exclaimed Leonard, "this is not----" + +"The maid of Mademoiselle Claghorn," she replied, still in French. "The +clerk indicated you as Monsieur----" + +"Certainly. Your mistress----" + +"This way, Monsieur." She led him toward the parlor, and had his ears +been keen enough, he might have heard her murmur: "_Il est adorable._" + +Natalie had been, in Leonard's eyes, a very beautiful girl, and he found +her now a very beautiful woman. She was tall, dark, slender and +indescribably graceful, as well as with the nameless manner, born with +some and never in perfection acquired, of exceeding yet not obtrusive +graciousness. Had she been born a duchess, she could not have had a +better manner; had she been born a washerwoman, it would have been as +good, for it was born, not made. The mere beauty of her face was hardly +remembered in contemplation of qualities apparent, yet not wholly +comprehensible. Ordinarily serene, if not joyous in expression, there +was an underlying sadness that seldom left it. Perhaps she still grieved +for the father she had lost; perhaps, unconsciously, she craved the love +or the religion which the Marquise had said a woman needs. + +The travelers were on their way to Easthampton, having arrived in the +night train from New York. On learning that less than an hour's drive +would bring her to the home of Miss Claghorn, Natalie declined Leonard's +escort. "I wish to see my grand-aunt alone," she explained. "She has +written a most kind invitation----" + +"Which I hope you will accept, Cousin." + +"Which I greatly desire to accept, but----" + +"If for any reason," he interrupted, "you should decide not to accept +Cousin Achsah's invitation, I know that at Stormpoint----" + +"I have letters from both Mrs. Joe and Paula; but my first duty, and my +inclination as well, take me to my father's aunt." + +Though he had at first agreed with Paula that residence with Miss Achsah +would not "do" for Natalie, he saw the fitness of her decision. She +recognized her own status as a Claghorn and appreciated the Claghorn +claim upon her. "I am glad you feel so," he said. "You will discern +Cousin Achsah's real excellence beneath an exterior which, at first +sight, may seem unpromising. She is not French, as you will soon +discover, but as for true kindness----" + +She interrupted with a laugh. "You and Mr. Winter are both eloquent in +apologizing for my grand-aunt's sort of kindness, which, it seems, +differs from the French variety." + +"We only mean she will seem to you undemonstrative. She is very +religious." + +"That does not alarm me; everybody is--except myself," and now her laugh +had a cadence of sadness. + +It touched him. He knew the task laid out for him by Providence, and he +felt that he ought to say a fitting word. But all the time he knew that +the eyes of the maid were upon him. The knowledge made him appear +somewhat constrained--he who ordinarily had an ease of manner, which was +not the least of his charms. + +"They are well at Stormpoint, of course?" questioned Natalie. "Mrs. Joe +and Paula?" + +"Perfectly. You will be charmed with their home. Mrs. Claghorn has +transformed a desert. The sea----" + +"Paula sent me some views, and better, an appreciative description. I +should think they would never wish to leave it--none of them?" She +looked inquiringly at him. + +"As to that," he laughed, "Mrs. Joe flits occasionally; and, of course, +Paula with her. But they are becoming more and more content to remain at +home. Mrs. Joe is quite a public character." + +"A chatelaine--the head of the house?" Again her eyes questioned more +insistently than her lips. + +"Quite so," was the answer. "Mark's a rover. He's in Russia." + +A sigh of relief--or regret? It was quickly checked. Leonard noticed her +pallor. "You are tired," he said. "Why not rest for an hour or two here? +If you will do so, I can myself drive you to Easthampton. Just now I +must attend to my class at the Seminary." + +But she would not wait for his escort; so he procured a conveyance, and +surmising that, under the circumstances, the maid was an embarrassment, +he suggested providing her with a book and the hospitality of his +sitting-room, and having seen his cousin depart, he conducted +Mademoiselle Berthe to his room and handed her a volume of the "Revue +des Deux Mondes," which the maid accepted graciously. + +"There," he said pleasantly, and in his best French, "you can look out +of the window or read, as you please. I hope you will not find the time +long." + +She smiled in reply. Her penetrating eyes sought that other self within +him, which leaped to the call and looked out of his eyes into hers. For +a moment only. His gaze dropped. Wondering, he found himself trembling. + +"I--I shall look in in an hour, to see if you want anything." + +"Monsieur is very good," murmured Berthe. They were not far apart; her +hand touched his. She looked downward. + +"Good-bye," he said abruptly. + +She watched him crossing the square toward the Seminary. There was a +half smile upon her lips. "He is adorable," she murmured again. "Ah! I +thought so," as Leonard, now some hundred yards away, looked back. + +When he had disappeared she lazily inspected her surroundings, noting +the various objects with faint interest. "_Son pere_," she muttered as +her glance fell upon the portrait of Professor Jared Claghorn. But she +examined more minutely that of his mother. "_Belle femme_," was her +comment, and though her eyes wandered from the picture, they often +returned to it, verifying the close resemblance between it and the +occupant of the room. "Ah-h!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms, and +then letting them fall listlessly, "_Qu'il est beau_!" + +Then she tried to doze, but without much success, twitching nervously +and occasionally muttering impatiently; and, at length, she rose from +her chair and began to deliberately inspect the various objects lying on +table or mantel. Everything that was purely ornamental she scrutinized +with care, as though she would read the reason of its being where she +found it. There was a peculiar expression of veiled anger in her eyes +while thus engaged, and once the veil was momentarily lifted and anger +was visible. Nevertheless, she laughed a moment after and replaced the +object, an ivory paper cutter, where she had found it. "_T'es bete_," +she muttered. + +But soon her dark eyes flashed actual rage. She had taken a prettily +bound book of poems from the table, where it had been thrown, as if but +recently read. She turned the pages, half carelessly, yet with a sharp +eye, to see if there were any marked passages. She found one or two +such, and it would have been diverting, had there been a spectator +present, to note her perplexed attempts to read Mrs. Browning. But the +language was beyond her powers, and she was about impatiently to replace +the book when she noticed the fly-leaf, whereon in a neat, clear hand +was written the inscription, "Leonard, from Paula." She stared at these +innocent words with a glare that under no circumstances could have been +regarded as amusing. Finally, she tore the leaf from the book and flung +the book itself disdainfully from her. Then she crumpled the leaf in her +hand, threw it into the waste basket, and deliberately spat upon it. + +Which strange proceeding perhaps soothed her irritation, for she lay +back in her chair, and after breathing hard for a little while, was soon +sleeping peacefully. + +Meantime, while Mademoiselle slept the sleep of one who has spent the +night in travel, Leonard lectured, but less fluently than was usual. A +man out of sorts is not an uncommon circumstance, and though his flushed +cheeks, bright eyes, and occasional bungling speech were sufficiently +remarkable in one ordinarily engrossed with his subject, nothing was +said to further disturb his equanimity. + +The lecture over, he walked across the square, less equable in spirit +than he had been in the class-room; for there he had striven to retain +his grasp of the topic in hand; now he was under no restraint and could +surrender himself to contemplation--of what? + +Of the stirring touch of a woman's hand, of the vision of a new world, a +glimpse of which he had caught in the greedy depths of a woman's eyes. +Even now he was hurrying to see these things again, while he was angry +that they drew him back. + +He overcame the attraction, and deliberately sat down upon a bench. He +watched a little girl playing about, and might have remained watching +had not the devil, who sometimes walks to and fro and up and down in +Hampton, intervened. + +The child was suddenly struck by a ball, batted by an urchin, who, on +seeing what he had done, incontinently took to his heels. She fell, +stunned, almost at Leonard's feet. The impact of the ball had seemed +frightful, and for a moment Leonard thought she was killed. + +The hotel was across the street. He carried her thither, intending to +summon a physician, but on seeing some returning signs of animation, he +took his burden to his room and laid her on the bed. + +Berthe, her nap over, had witnessed the scene in the park. She heard +Leonard lay the child on the bed in the chamber adjoining the room in +which she sat, and was instantly by the bedside with her traveling bag, +from which she produced restoratives. She gave her whole attention to +the sufferer, while he looked on, pleased with these gentle +ministrations. + +"It may be a bad hurt," said Berthe, undoubted pity in her tone. "The +brain may be injured." + +"I will call the doctor,'" he said. + +The doctor was at hand, his room being on the same corridor. His opinion +was that no serious damage had been done. "Let her rest awhile. If she +seems unusually drowsy, let me know," with which words and a glance at +Mademoiselle, he returned to his room. + +Berthe knelt beside the child, who was growing alarmed as her +intelligence became normally acute. The Frenchwoman prattled soothingly, +and Leonard stooped to add some words of encouragement. He stroked the +child's hair, and his hand met the soft hand of Berthe and was enclosed +within it. He trembled as she drew him downward, and a sob escaped him +as his lips met hers and lingered on them in a rapturous kiss. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +HER EYES GREW LIMPID AND HER CHEEKS FLUSHED RED. + + +When the carriage, which was to convey her to Easthampton, had started, +Natalie commenced the re-perusal of Miss Claghorn's invitation, which +ran thus: + + "My Dear Grand-niece--I address you thus, for though I have + never seen you, yet you are of my kindred, and all who bear + your name must be dear to me. Your father was so in his youth, + and if, in later years, he neglected, if he did not forget, the + ties of kinship and of country, I nevertheless mourned for him, + even though sensible that all things are ordered by the Lord of + heaven and earth and that human regret is useless, and, if + unaccompanied with resignation, sinful. Mr. Winter writes me + that you are friendless. I offer that which you can justly + claim from me--my friendship and a home. As far as earthly + cares are concerned, I am willing to relieve you of those + incident to your situation. This is plainly my duty, and for + many years I have striven, with God's help, to perform with a + cheerful spirit that which I have been called upon to do. + + "It is this habit which impels me here to refer to your views + concerning man's duty toward his Maker. I do not, because + conscientiously I cannot, agree with those who profess + tolerance in these matters. There should be no tolerance of + sin. If we would worthily follow in the steps of Him who died + that we might live, we must hate the devil and his children in + the same measure that we love our Father and his children. + Whose child are you? + + "This is a solemn question. I urge you to seek its answer at + the Throne. If you will do this, my hope will be mighty. Should + you be tempted to resent my solicitude, remember that my + religion is a part of my nature, the only part meriting your + respect, and that it requires of me that which I have written, + as well as much more not set down here, but of which I hope I + shall see the fruits. Come to me as soon as possible, and be + assured of a welcome. ACHSAH CLAGHORN." + +The girl smiled, though sadly, as she read this letter. She did not +resent the fact that it was confessedly inspired solely by a sense of +duty; she rather admired the writer for the uncompromising statement; +nor was she offended at the sermon contained in the epistle, or inclined +to treat it lightly. It is not probable that the writer of the letter +believed that her exhortation would sink deeply in the heart of an +"atheist," she being probably unaware that some who know not God crave a +knowledge which they find nowhere offered. + +The drive was long, the horse sleepy, the driver willing that his steed +should doze, while his passenger paid by the hour, for which reason he +had chosen the longer road by the sea. + +She looked out upon the water with a gaze of longing, as though there +might arise from out the solitary deep a vision which would solve that +great mystery, which for Miss Claghorn and such as she, was no mystery, +but wherein most of us grope as in a fog. But, as to other yearning +eyes, so to hers no vision was vouchsafed; though had her sight been +strengthened by experience, she might have seen, symbolized in the +waters, the life of man. For, against the shore the fretful waves were +spent and lost in sand, whereof each particle was insignificant, but +which in the mass absorbed the foaming billows, as the vain aspirations +of youth absorb its futile energies. Beyond was the green water, still +tireless and vexed, and then the smoother blue, as it neared the +sky-line, undisturbed, until afar the waters lay at rest in hopeless +patience, and the heavens came down and hid the secret of what lay +beyond. + +But, if youth looked with the eyes of age, there were no youth. She was +not yet to know lessons which must be hardly learned, and it was not +that one offered by the waters that she saw as she looked out upon the +ocean. Far beyond the horizon, in a distant land, her eyes beheld the +garden of a village inn where sat a girl, prattling with her father and +commenting upon two dusty strangers, who in their turn were eyeing the +maid and her companion curiously. She saw the cave, heard Leonard shout +the name--and then Mark Claghorn stood before her--as he then had stood, +in the jaunty cap and ribbon which proclaimed him "_Bursch_"; one of +those lawless beings of whom she had heard much school-girl prattle. +Even then she had contrasted the handsomer face of the simple-minded boy +beside her with the harsher and more commanding features of this +newcomer. And her fancy wandered on through pleasant German saunterings +and Parisian scenes among the churches--to the day when Berthe Lenoir +had said that Mark would be her teacher in the lore of love; and she +knew that, in the moment of that saying, she had learned the great +lesson, never to be forgotten. + +She had cherished the secret without hope or wish that he should share +it, for she knew that so sweet a thing could live in no heart but her +own; and she had not been ashamed, but had been proud of this holy +acquisition hidden in her heart of hearts. Her eyes grew limpid and her +cheeks flushed red as she recalled how the shrine of her treasure had +been profaned by the hand of one that might have known, but had +disdained its worth. In the Church of St. Roch the three who had been +present when love was born were again alone together. Berthe was now her +maid, and Mark, his university days past, was a daily visitor at her +father's house. + +The scene was clear before her as he pointed to the maid, out of +earshot, and gazing carelessly at the worshippers. "Has she +forgotten--so soon?" he said. "Are women so?" + +She had not answered. Forgotten! Who could forget? + +"I have not forgotten. I often come here, Natalie." + +She had had no words. What was it that had so joyously welled up within +her and overflowed her eyes and closed her lips? + +"I was to be your teacher, Natalie." + +She looked into his eyes, and from her own went out the secret of her +soul into his keeping; and she had been glad, and the gloomy church had +been aglow, and as they passed out the sun shone and the heavens smiled +upon a new world; for she had never seen it thus before. + +That was the short chapter of the history of her love. There had been no +other. He had ravished her secret that he might disdain it, and next day +had said a stern good-bye, spoken as though forever. + +Yet she had dared to come here, though now the impulse was strong upon +her to turn and flee from a region where he might be met. It was but an +impulse; for either she must come among these her relatives or return to +throw herself into the arms of the vacuous hussar who loved her dowry, +or failing that, into the strife and importunity from which she had +escaped. Resentful pride, too, came to her aid, bidding her not flee +from him who had disdained her love, though even so she knew that that +which had been born within her had been so fondly cherished, had grown +so mighty, that in the heart it filled there was no room for pride to +grow with equal strength. + +She turned again to the letter in her hand. Her unbelief had never +stilled the longing to believe, and now, in the hunger of her soul, the +yearning was strong. But, she asked herself, What was belief? There was +much glib talk of faith, but what was faith? Could one have faith by +saying that one had it? Was conviction mere assertion? The letter +advised her to seek enlightenment at the Throne of God. What meaning +could the words have except that she was to crave that which she had +ever craved? Her soul had always cried aloud for knowledge of God. Could +it be that formal words, repeated kneeling, would compel heaven to give +ear? Was it thus that people experienced what they called religion? Was +it so that Miss Claghorn had found it? + +Such musings came to an end with her arrival at the White House. She had +announced her coming by letter, wherefore Tabitha Cone, recognizing the +identity of the visitor and mentally pronouncing her a "stunner," +ushered her into the gloomy parlor, and informed Miss Claghorn that +"'Liph's daughter" awaited her. + +"I decided to call in person before accepting your kind invitation," +said the visitor. + +"I learn from Ellis Winter that you need a home," replied Miss Achsah, a +little stiffly, but rather from awe of this blooming creature than from +dislike. + +"I am grateful for your offer of one; but in fairness, I thought you +should know my reasons for leaving France, and essential that you should +justify me." + +Miss Claghorn assented not ungraciously. The frank demeanor of her +visitor pleased her. "A Claghorn," was her mental comment, as Natalie +told her story more in detail than Mr. Winter had done. + +"You see," she added to her narrative of the matrimonial pursuit of the +gallant de Fleury, "he is not a man that I could like, but my +cousin----" + +"You mean this French Markweeze?" + +Natalie nodded. "She is a sweet woman, and undoubtedly believed herself +right in the matter. Then it was, doubtless, a very serious +disappointment. Lieutenant de Fleury is her son; they are comparatively +poor; I am not--and so--and so----" + +"You were quite right to run away," snapped Miss Achsah, with the +emphasis born of indignation at this attempt to coerce a Claghorn. + +"It must not be forgotten that, from her point of view, my cousin was +justified in expecting me to carry out a promise made by my father. It +was this that made her so persistent and induced her to attempt measures +that were not justifiable. To her I must seem ungrateful for much +kindness." The girl's eyes glistened with tears. In fact, this view of +her conduct, which was doubtless the view of the Marquise, affected her +deeply. She did not state, though aware of the fact, that her own income +had, during her residence with her French guardian, been mainly used to +sustain and freshen the very faded glory of the house of Fleury. + +"Well, my dear," was the comment of Miss Claghorn, "I have listened to +your story and justify your course; and now I repeat my invitation." + +Had Tabitha Cone seen the gracious manner of the speaker she would have +been as surprised as was the lady herself. But in the presence of this +beautiful face, the evident honesty of the narration of the tale she had +heard, the underlying sadness beneath the serene expression, it would +have needed a harder nature than Miss Claghorn's to be anything but +gracious. But she flushed with self-reproach when Natalie touched upon +what she had for the moment completely forgotten. + +"But," exclaimed Natalie, "I have not answered the question in your +letter. The matter of religion, I was led to believe, would be to you +most important. It is to so many; the Marquise, Pere Martin, Mrs. +Leon--have all been grieved--I am an infidel." + +The coolness with which this statement was made shocked her auditor even +more than the fact. The perplexed smile upon the girl's face; the +yearning look, that seemed to recognize something wanting in her, some +faculty absent which left her without a clew to the cause of the +successive shocks emanating from her--these things, if only dimly +appreciated by Miss Claghorn, were sufficiently apparent to make her +feel as though a weight had fallen upon her heart. "Oh, my child, that +is an awful thing to say!" she exclaimed. + +The way the words were uttered showed that all the tenderness, long +hidden, of the speaker's nature was suddenly called to life. No +exhortation ever heard by Natalie had so affected her as this outburst +of a hard old woman. She seized the other's hand, murmuring, "Dear +Aunt!" She pitied, even while she envied, the victim of superstition, as +the God-fearing woman pitied the errant soul. Neither understood the +source of the other's emotion, but they met in complete sympathy. The +elder woman pressed the hand that had grasped her own, and leaning +toward her grand-niece, kissed her affectionately. What old and +long-dried springs of feeling were awakened in the withered breast as +the oldest descendant of the Puritan preacher yearned over the youngest +of the line? Who shall tell? Perhaps the barren motherhood of the +ancient spinster was stirred for once; perhaps the never-known craving +for a mother's love moved the younger one. For a time both were silent. + +"Come to me to-day, at once," whispered Miss Achsah, blushing, had she +known it, and quivering strangely. + +The heartiness of the invitation troubled the visitor, whose answer was +less gracious than a chief characteristic required. "I will come +to-day," she answered. "Let it be understood as a visit only." Then she +went out, and in the lumbering carriage was driven back to Hampton. + +Miss Claghorn watched her from the window. Gradually she was recovering +herself and secretly feeling mightily ashamed, yet pleased, too. Tabitha +came in. + +"Well?" she asked. + +"Well," echoed Miss Claghorn, acidly. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Pray," replied the lady, as she ascended the stairs. + +"Must have forgot it this morning," was Miss Cone's mental comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +WHEREAT CYNICS AND MATRONS MAY SMILE INCREDULOUS. + + +When Natalie returned, Leonard was occupying his old seat in the Square, +a different man from the man she had met in the earlier morning. He had +been shocked, grieved, even terrified, and above all ashamed; yet joy +mingled with his grief, and his consciousness of new manhood was not +without its glory; and, withal, his breast was filled with a flood of +tremulous tenderness for the woman, and a longing for her forgiveness. +His emotions were sufficiently confusing to be vexing, and he had +striven to give the matter a jaunty aspect. Young men will be young men, +even when students of divinity, and he had heard more than one tale of +kisses. He had not much liked such tales, nor the bragging and +assumption of their tellers; still, a few hours since, he would have +seen no great offense in kissing a pretty woman; but a few hours since +he had not known anything about the matter. He was sure now that the +rakes of his college days, the boasters and conquerors, had been as +ignorant as he. Otherwise they could not have told of their deeds; the +thing he had done he could tell no man. + +And so, though he had but kissed a woman, he felt that kissing a woman +was a wonderful thing; and he failed in the attempt to look upon the +matter airily, as of a little affair that would have in the future a +flavor of roguishness. It was not a matter to be treated lightly; his +grief and the stabs of conscience were too sharp for that--yet he had no +remorse. He was not minded to repeat the act; he had fled from such +repetition, and he would not repeat it; neither would he regret it. It +should be a memory, a secret for hidden shame, for hidden pride, for +grief, for joy. + +He intercepted Natalie as she descended from the carriage, and, in a +brief interview in the hotel parlor, learned of her intention to return +at once to Miss Claghorn. The carriage was waiting, there was no reason +for delaying her departure; there was nothing to do but to call the +maid, and he dispatched a servant to do that. He volunteered to see to +the immediate transmission of the luggage of the travelers to +Easthampton, and made thereof an excuse for leaving before the maid +reappeared; and when once without the hotel door, and on his way to the +station, he breathed a sigh as of one relieved of a load. + +Some days passed and Leonard had not appeared at Easthampton. One +morning he received the following note from Paula: + + "Dear Leonard--I suppose you are very busy in these last days + of the term, and we all excuse your neglect of us. I shall be + at the Hampton station on Thursday, having promised to see + Natalie's maid (who don't speak English) on the evening train + for New York. Perhaps you can meet me and return with me to + dinner. Cousin Alice hopes you will." + +He was careful not to find Paula until the train had gone, and he had +assured himself that Berthe was among the passengers. Then he appeared. + +"Why, Leonard," exclaimed Paula, "have you been ill?" The tone was full +of concern. He shrank as if he had been struck. + +"No," he said; "a little anxious--troubled." + +"Over your freckled, gawky, thickshod theologues; what a pity you're not +in the Church!" + +This kind of outburst on the part of the speaker usually made Leonard +laugh. To-night his laugh sounded hollow. "I suppose your Episcopalian +students wear kids and use face powder," he said. + +"There's no harm in kid gloves; inner vileness----" + +"Is very bad, Paula; we'll not discuss it." + +They walked across the Square, on the other side of which she had left +the carriage. She looked up to his face to seek an explanation of the +irritation discoverable in his tone; she noted that his hat was drawn +down over his eyes in a way very unusual. They walked on in silence. +"You will come with me?" she asked, when they had reached the carriage. + +"Not to-night. You are right, I am not very well; it is nothing, I will +come out this week. Has Natalie discharged her maid?" + +"Not for any fault. Mrs. Leon was very glad to get Berthe, and as +Natalie is situated----" + +"I see. I hope she is comfortable with Cousin Achsah." + +"They hit it off astonishingly well. The fact is, nobody could help +loving Natalie--I am surprised that you have not been to see her." + +"I know I have seemed negligent. I have a good excuse. Where, in New +York, does Mrs. Leon live?" + +"At the Fifth Avenue Hotel," she replied, wondering at the question. + +"Well," he said, after a pause, and treating her answer as though, like +his question, it was of no real interest. "I must not keep you here. You +don't mind going home alone?" + +"I should be glad of your company; aside from that, I don't mind." + +"Then, good-bye," touching her hand for an instant. "Make my excuses to +Mrs. Joe; I have been really very busy. Home, James." He closed the +carriage door and walked rapidly away, leaving Paula vexed, to sink back +in the soft seat and to wonder. + +He walked across the Square to the region of shops and entered a large +grocery store--at this time of day, deserted. "Could you give me a bill +for fifty dollars?" he asked of the cashier. + +"I believe I can, Professor," replied the official, drawing one from the +desk, and exchanging it for the smaller bills handed him by Leonard, who +thanked him and went out. That night he enclosed the single bill in an +envelope, and addressed it to Mademoiselle Berthe, in care of Mrs. Leon. + +As he could have told no man why he had done this, so he could not tell +himself why. Cynics and matrons may smile incredulous, but the kiss he +had given and received had wrought an upheaval in this man's soul. He +who defers his kissing until he has reached maturity has much to learn, +and if the learning comes in a sudden burst of light in still and quiet +chambers, that have until now been dark, the man may well be dazzled. + +He did not think her sordid. He hoped she would understand that he sent +her that which he believed would be of use to her. But when, a week +later, he received a little box and found within it an exquisite pin, +which he, unlearned in such matters, still knew must have cost a large +part of the sum he had sent her, he was pleased, and a thrill passed +through him. Like him, she would remember, nor in her mind would there +be any thought but one of tenderness for a day that could never come +again. It would be a fair memory that would trouble him no more, but +would remain forever fair, of her who had opened to him the portals of a +new and beautiful world. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +IN THE WHITE HOUSE, A DAMSEL OR THE DEVIL--WHICH? + + +When Paula had said to Leonard that Natalie and Miss Claghorn "hit it +off astonishingly well," she had fairly indicated the harmonious +relations prevailing at the White House, as well as the general +astonishment that the elder lady had so graciously received a religious +outcast. It was true that Miss Achsah's innate benevolence was +habitually shrouded in uncompromising orthodoxy, a tough and +non-diaphanous texture, not easily penetrable by futile concern for +souls preordained to eternal death; but Natalie was of her own blood, +one of a long line of elect; furthermore, she had not been seduced by +the blandishments of the Great Serpent, but had cast her lot, where it +truly belonged, among Claghorns; and, finally, the oldest bearer of that +name was doubtless influenced by the fact that the girl was motherless +and friendless, and that she herself, paying the penalty of +independence, was, except as to Tabitha Cone, with whom she lived in +strife, alone. + +Miss Cone also approved of the visitor. This had been originally an +accident. Like the rest of the little world interested, Tabitha had +supposed that Miss Claghorn's reception of a foreign and atheistical +daughter of Beverley Claghorn would be as ungracious as was compatible +with humanity; wherefore Tabitha had been prepared, for her part, to be +extremely affable, foreseeing, with joy, many a battle with her +benefactress wherein she would have an ally; but, taken unawares, by the +time she had grasped the unexpected situation, she had become too +sincere in her admiration to change her role. She chose, however, to +announce an estimate of Natalie's character differing from that of Miss +Claghorn. "She's a Beverley down to her shins," was Miss Cone's +verdict. + +"As much of a Beverley as you are a Claghorn," was Miss Achsah's tart +rejoinder. + +"Which, thank the Lord, I'm not. One's enough in one house. For my part, +I don't admire your strong characters." + +"So that your admiration of Natalie is all pretense. I'm not surprised." + +"She strong! Poor dove, she's Susan Beverley to the life." Which may +have been true, though dove-like Natalie was not. + +Miss Claghorn made no reply except by means of a contradictory snort. + +"Now," gravely continued the inwardly jubilant Tabitha, "I call Paula +Lynford a strong character. There's a girl that'll get what she's +after." + +Something ominous in the manner of the speaker arrested the sneer on its +way. "What do you mean?" asked Miss Achsah. + +"What do all girls want--though, to be sure, you've had no experience," +observed Tabitha (who had once contemplated marriage with a mariner, who +had escaped by drowning)--"a husband." + +Miss Claghorn laughed. "Very likely. But Paula's husband will need a +dispensation--from the Pope, I suppose--since he calls himself a +Catholic." + +Tabitha echoed the laugh, less nervously and with palpable and unholy +enjoyment. "You mean her cap's set for Father Cameril. She's been +throwing dust in your eyes. She's after a minister, sure enough, but not +that one." + +"What do you mean, Tabitha Cone?" The tone of the question usually had +the effect of cowing Tabitha, but the temptation was too strong to be +resisted. + +"I mean Leonard Claghorn." + +Miss Achsah gasped. "You slanderous creature," she exclaimed, "Leonard +will never marry a mock-papist--demure puss!" + +"Leonard'll marry to suit himself, and not his forty-fifth cousin." And +with this Tabitha escaped, leaving a rankling arrow. + +As an "atheist," Natalie was a surprise to both inmates of the White +House. Their ideas of atheistic peculiarities were probably vague, but +each had regarded the arrival of the unbeliever with dread. Tabitha had +foreboded profanity, perhaps even inebriety, depravity certainly, and +she had been quite "upset," to use her own expression, by the reality. +Miss Claghorn, with due respect for family traits, had never shared +Tabitha's worst fears, but she had anticipated a very different kind of +person from the person that Natalie actually was. She had pictured a +hard, cynical, intellectual creature, critical as to the shortcomings of +creation, full of "science," and pertly obtrusive with views. She had +feared theological discussion, and though convinced that her armory +(comprised in Dr. Hodge's "Commentary on the Confession of Faith") was +amply furnished to repel atheistic assault, yet she dreaded the onset, +having, perhaps, some distrust of her own capacity for handling her +weapons. + +But the atheist was neither scientific nor argumentative. She was so +graceful, so amiable, in short, so charming, that both old women were +quickly won; so gay that both were surprised to hear their own laughter. +Sufficiently foreign to be of continual interest, and so pleased and +entertained with her new surroundings that they would have been churlish +indeed not to accept her pleasure as flattering to themselves. + +At times, indeed, both had misgivings. The devil is abroad, and it was +conceivable that in the form of this seductive creature he had +audaciously invaded the White House for prey, such as rarely fell into +his toils; but each spinster was too sure of her own call and election +to fear the enemy of souls on her individual account, and Miss Claghorn +doubted whether even the temerity of Satan would suffice for the +hopeless attempt to capture an orthodox Claghorn; and this assurance +aided the belief that Natalie, herself of the elect race, was neither +the devil's emissary, nor in the direful peril that had been feared. She +might think herself an infidel, but her time was not yet come, that was +all. + +"I am sure she has workings of the spirit," she observed to Tabitha. +"She's not always as lighthearted as you think." + +"I don't happen to think it. A good deal of that's put on." + +"Everybody don't experience grace as early as you and I." + +"Specially not in Paris," assented Miss Cone. + +"She was surely guided of the Lord in leaving the influence of Romanism +to----" + +"'Cording to your view she hasn't escaped yet; there's St. Perpetua----" + +"She's too true a Claghorn to be led into that folly." + +"I don't know," observed Miss Cone meditatively, "that the Claghorns are +less foolish than other people. There was 'Liph, her father; 'n there's +Lettie Stanley--then your brother. St. Perpetua's his monument, you +know." + +"Joseph would never have approved St. Perpetua. If he'd been a Catholic, +it wouldn't have been an imitation." + +"His wife ought to know the kind of monument he would have liked. I've +known the Claghorns long enough to know----" + +"You've known some of 'em, to your eternal welfare, Tabitha Cone." + +"I'm not aware that the family was consulted when my election was +foreordained. You think well of 'em, and I won't deny their good +qualities--but I guess the Almighty didn't have to wait until their +creation to manage." + +"You seem very sure of election. I hope you are not to be disappointed, +but you might accept the fact with some humility." + +"Your brother, Natalie's grandfather, had a license to preach--I'm not +aware that you have--he taught me that the fact was to be accepted with +joy and gladness." + +"Joy and gladness are not inconsistent with humility." + +"I'm not denyin' your right to be joyful, but your right to preach." + +"Tabitha Cone, you'd try the patience of a saint!" + +"_If_ I had the opportunity!" And so, with whetted swords they plunged +into the fray. + +The newcomer was graciously welcomed at Stormpoint, though Paula +bewailed her selection of abode, tending, as it did, to frustrate +certain plans, which were to result in alluring Natalie to the +sheltering arms of St. Perpetua. Paula was confident of the courage of +Father Cameril, but even a brave man may hesitate to pluck a jewel from +the den of a lion, and she knew that to such a den the good Father +likened the home of Miss Claghorn. + +But Mrs. Joe approved Natalie's choice. "Miss Achsah's her blood +relation," she said. + +"What is blood? An accident. Friendship is born of sympathy," protested +Paula. + +"And since that is the basis of our friendship," observed Natalie, "you +will understand that when my grand-aunt offered me a home on the ground +of duty, I also recognized a duty." + +"A home on the ground of duty," repeated Paula, with as near an approach +to a sneer as she was capable of effecting. + +"Could she feel affection, who had never seen me? Remember, she stood in +the place of mother to my father. I fear she had reason to believe that +the fact had been forgotten." + +Mrs. Joe nodded approval. + +"Inclination would have led me to you," Natalie proceeded. "It may be, +too, that I was influenced by the hope that I might, in some degree, +brighten the life of an old woman who had outlived her near relations. I +remembered how Cousin Jared, whom we all liked so well, reverenced her. +And then, I approved her pride in the name. I, too, am a Claghorn." + +"In short," commented Mrs. Joe, "you recognized a duty, as I believed +you would, and you did right. Good will come of it," she added, "a bond +between the houses." + +Nevertheless, the lady's conscience was troubled. She was naturally +candid and hospitable, yet in respect to Natalie, she had done violence +to both attributes. In that invitation, sent in accordance with her +promise to Paula, she had been careful to recognize the prior claim of +Miss Claghorn, thus virtually indicating Natalie's proper course. It had +been hard for her to close the gates of Stormpoint upon one whom she +regarded with affection, yet Mr. Hacket's counsel had outweighed +inclination. That gentleman was, indeed, teaching some hard lessons to +the lady of Stormpoint. It was almost unbearable that this wooden and +yellow man, who secretly aroused all the antagonism of which she was +capable, should direct her domestic affairs; yet she bore it smilingly, +as was seemly in a politician, whose skin may smart, but who must grin. +For, Mr. Hacket's command was wise. To add an infidel to her household +of religious suspects would be a rash act which Hampton might not +forgive. She had no doubt that Natalie's unbelief would become known, +and if it did not, the fact that she was French would presuppose +Romanism, and excite comment. Were Stormpoint to harbor a Papist, one +concerning whom there could be no saving doubt, such as existed for its +present inmates, all her plans might be jeopardized. In the eyes of the +descendants of the Puritans, the adherents of St. Perpetua would be +convicted as followers of the scarlet woman, and if the red rag of +Romanism were flaunted in seeming defiance, Mark's incipient career of +statesmanship might meet with a serious check. + +On the other hand, there was comfort in the thought that all unpleasant +possibilities would be avoided by Natalie's sojourn with Miss Achsah. +Infidel or Romanist, in whatever light regarded, the dwellers in +Easthampton would know with approval that the competent owner of the +White House had the stray sheep in charge, and would anticipate +triumphant rescue of the endangered soul, providentially sheltered where +food of life would be daily offered. There would be also general +satisfaction that to Miss Achsah had been given a task worthy the +exercise of those energies which, in the cause of truth, she was apt to +exhibit in domestic circles not her own, to the great terror of the +members thereof. Mrs. Joe, herself, could find occasion to evince +commendation of the expected efforts of Miss Claghorn, and, while +placating that lady, could emphasize her own Protestantism. In fact, +several birds might be slain with this single stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +SUR LE PONT D'AVIGNON ON Y DANSE, ON Y DANSE. + + +It was, perhaps, because she was conscience-stricken that Mrs. Joe +essayed to make atonement to Natalie by being especially confiding with +her. We know, also, that she saw an opportunity of strengthening those +bonds between Stormpoint and the White House, which Mr. Hacket insisted +it was advisable to make as close as possible; for it became day by day +more evident that Miss Achsah had taken her new inmate into her heart of +hearts; other motives there may have been; certain it is that next to +her yellow adviser, whom she loathed with a deeper loathing each time +that she saw him anew, she opened her heart to Natalie in regard to +those cherished projects which concerned Mark. + +"I want to see him famous," she said. "It will be harder for him than +for others, because of this wretched money." + +"He has more talent than most, and, I think, sincerity," replied +Natalie, pausing on the last word. + +The elder lady looked sharply at the speaker. The two were alone +together; occasionally they could hear the strains of Paula's organ from +the distant music-room. "You saw much of him after he left the +University?" she questioned. + +"Yes, he was with us constantly for a time." The widow had a fine sense +of hearing, which she strained to the utmost to note what might be told +in the tone that remained untold by the words. She was quite aware that +Mark had been for weeks a daily visitor, if not an actual inmate, of the +household of Beverley Claghorn. She had herself arranged that it should +be so; but she had not then feared possibilities, which had engaged her +thoughts a good deal since she had heard of the rupture between the +Marquise and Natalie. The tone of the girl's voice told her nothing, and +the eyes that met her own were serene. + +"I wished Mark to remain abroad until Stormpoint was complete. I wished +to surprise him, and impress him with the fact that I am in earnest, +that this place is but a means to an end." + +"It is a beautiful and a fitting home for what he is and aspires to be." + +"It will help. What has he said to you about Stormpoint?" + +"You forget that I have not seen him since he made its acquaintance." + +"Surely he was not so neglectful as not to write!" + +"He wrote to my father. I don't recall what he said about Stormpoint." + +The eyes bent upon the girl, who looked steadily out of the window at +the sea, were keen and questioning. "Pardon me, Natalie, I hope the +breach between you and the Marquise is not irreparable," said the lady +softly. + +Natalie looked up smiling. "Indeed, I hope not. I am not angry with her, +though she is with me." + +"I can hardly be sorry that you disappointed her--I never fancied her +lieutenant--but I was surprised. I had supposed the matter settled with +your consent." + +"My dear father, it seems, did so arrange it. I quite appreciate her +standpoint and know that she has much to forgive. Naturally, she +approves of the customs of her country. Unfortunately, I was not trained +strictly _a la mode Francaise_." + +"The French custom as regards betrothal is repulsive; but I supposed you +were French--and----" + +"I must have inherited independent views. I might have acquiesced had I +not seen too much of Adolphe. You are not to think badly of him--only +that he is unendurable." + +"That is more damning than faint praise," laughed Mrs. Joe; "but I +understand. Well, my dear, since you decline to become a 'female +Markis,' as Mr. Weller has it, we must do as well for you as possible in +a republic that offers no nobles." + +"I am quite content with things as they are." + +"That, of course, is eminently proper; but we are all slaves of destiny +and there is one always possible to maidens. We shall select a permanent +city home as soon as I can consult Mark; meanwhile we shall not spend +our winters here; and in the winter Miss Achsah must reward our +forbearance by surrendering you to us." + +"I shall be glad to be with you and Paula sometimes; but, Mrs. Joe, you +know I am only visiting my aunt. I intend to have a home of my own." + +"That will come. Perhaps it will be with me for a time, if you can bear +with another old woman. Mark and Paula will want their own +establishment. Of course, they'll have Stormpoint." + +She had sped her bolt. If it had been needless, it was harmless; if it +had wounded, so much the more was it needed. But she felt mean--in the +proper frame to meet Mr. Hacket, who was announced, to the relief of +both. + +The distant organ notes must have been pleasing to the ear, for, after +Mrs. Joe had gone, Natalie sat long, listening and motionless; they must +have been tender, for tears glistened in her eyes. When they ceased she +rose and left the room and the house. In the grounds she found Paula, +who said, "I came out at this moment, and saw that," pointing to the +buggy; "then I knew that you would soon be here." + +They strolled to a sheltered nook of the cliffside, and thence looked +out upon the silver sea, peaceful under the summer sky. + +"One could hardly believe that it could ever be angry," said Paula, "but +you shall see it in fury; then it will be awful." + +"It is awful now." + +"Now!" exclaimed Paula. "Why, it is as serene as the sky above it." + +"But think what it hides. Listen to the moan; see the swell of its heavy +sighs." + +"Natalie, I have discovered something!" + +"Like Columbus," laughed Natalie. + +"You are like the sea to-day. The surface wavelets laugh in the glint of +the sun; but sadness is beneath. The sea hides sorrow; and you are so. +You and Mark----" + +And there she stopped. The other knew why. Paula was looking straight at +her face, and she knew that her face had suddenly told a story. + +"Does the sea remind you of Mark?" she asked in even tones, guarding her +secret in her manner of utterance. + +"Of both of you," answered Paula, who had quickly turned a somewhat +troubled gaze upon the water. "Natalie," she added, rather hurriedly, +"there is a balm for every sorrow, a sure one. _That_"--she slightly +emphasized the word--"is why I thought of you in connection with Mark. +Ah, if he were only religious!" + +"Then he would be perfect, you think." She laughed, and Paula laughed, +but the merriment seemed hollow. + +"Nobody can be perfect," said Paula, after the pause which had followed +the unmeaning mirth. She spoke in a low tone and timidly, but for that +reason all the more engagingly; "but so far as perfection can be +attained, it can only be with the aid of religion." + +It was one of the words in season, which Natalie had become accustomed +to hear from those about her, and which from this exhorter she always +liked to hear. There was an atmosphere of calm about Paula and a +serenity in her face which fascinated the unbeliever. And her +admonitions, if timidly uttered, were sincere. It was as though the +young preacher, though longing for a convert, feared to frighten the +disciple away. + +Natalie bent over and kissed the girl's cheek. "Is he unhappy? Mark, I +mean." + +"His life is evidence that he is not happy. He wanders aimlessly. Cousin +Alice built Stormpoint for him, yet he leaves it." + +"His large interests compel his wanderings." + +"He has agents who make them unnecessary. Cousin Alice needs him." + +"You would be glad to have him home?" + +Paula looked up; her sparkling eyes answered the question. There was a +pause. + +"I hope he will come," said Natalie, after awhile, "and that you will +have your wish." + +"That he will become religious? I pray for it, so it must come." + +Natalie took her hand and held it. "And you believe that religion +insures happiness?" She was willing to hold on to this topic. + +"I know it. The peace of God which passeth understanding. Do not turn +from it, Natalie." + +"I do not. I am not a scoffer. I think that I, too, could love God, only +I am densely ignorant." + +"But you can be enlightened. Father Cameril----" + +Natalie smiled. "I hardly think he would be the teacher I would choose. +I would prefer you." + +"To enlighten your ignorance! I am myself ignorant. I believe--I know no +more." This sounded prettily from pretty lips, and Paula was honest; +but, as a matter of fact, she had some theological pretensions, a truth +which she for the moment forgot. + +"How is that possible?" asked the infidel. "I could believe, if I knew." + +"We cannot understand everything." + +"No--almost nothing, therefore----" + +"We have a revelation." + +"Which reveals nothing to me. I wish it did." + +"Natalie, you demand too much. We are not permitted to know everything. +We cannot be divine." + +"And yet we can speak very positively; as if, indeed, we knew it +all--some of us. But if nobody knows, nobody can be sure." + +"I cannot argue; but I can tell you who tells me. God Himself. God +speaks to the heart." + +"Paula," cried the other, with startling earnestness, "I, too, have a +heart. Teach me how to believe, and of all the wise you will be the +wisest. Do I not know that life is barren? that the love of man cannot +fill the heart? Ah! Paula, if that can do it, teach me the love of God!" + +The tone rose almost to a cry. Paula was awed as a perception of the +truth came upon her that here was a skeptic with religious longings +greater than her own. "Natalie," she murmured, hiding her face on the +shoulder of her companion, "we are told to ask. Pray, Natalie, to the +One that knows it all." + +"And will you pray for me?" + +"I do." + +"And do you pray for Mark?" + +"Surely." + +"And you know that my prayers will be answered?" + +"I know it--in God's good time." + +"I will pray, Paula." + +They kissed one another, as though sealing a compact. No doubt Paula +breathed a petition for her who, still in darkness, craved for light. +Natalie prayed for the happiness of Mark Claghorn, and that she might +forget him and resign him to the saint whose lips she pressed. + +Then she went home. In the hall of the White House she met Tabitha. +"Come!" she exclaimed, seizing that elderly damsel about the waist. +"_Dansons_, Tabitha; hop, skip! _Sur le pont d'Avignon on y danse, on y +danse!_" and she trilled her lay and whirled the astonished spinster +around until both were breathless. + +"My sakes! Have you gone crazy?" exclaimed Tabitha. + +"Come to my senses!" replied Natalie, laughing merrily. + +"I never saw you so French before," was Tabitha's comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +WARBLINGS IN THE WHITE HOUSE AND SNARES FOR A SOUL. + + +Achsah Claghorn, for many years lonely, with maternal instincts steadily +suppressed, had found the first opportunity of a long life to gratify +cravings of which she had been until now unconscious. Coyly, even with +trembling, she sought the love of her grand-niece, being herself +astonished, as much as she astonished others, by an indulgent tenderness +seemingly foreign to her character. Grandmothers, though once severe as +mothers, are often overfond in their last maternal role, and it may be +that Miss Claghorn pleased herself by the fiction of a relationship +which, though not actually existent, had some foundation in long-past +conditions. + +"Did your father never speak of me?" she asked. + +"Often, Aunt. Especially of late years, after we had met Cousin Jared." + +"But not with much affection?" + +Natalie was somewhat at a loss. "He said you were his second mother," +was her reply. + +"Poor Susan--that was your grandmother, my dear. She was a gentle, +loving creature. I think now, though perhaps I did not at the time, that +'Liph was lonely after she died. Ours was a dull house," she continued, +after a pause. "Your grandfather lived more in heaven than on earth, +which made it gloomy for us that didn't. Saints are not comfortable to +live with, and 'Liph was often in disgrace. I hope I was never hard to a +motherless boy, but--but----" + +"I am sure you were not. My father never said so." + +"Yet he forgot me. Perhaps it was pleasanter not to remember." + +There was no reply to make. Natalie knew that her father had been so +well content to forget his relatives that, until the unexpected meeting +in Germany, her own knowledge of the Claghorns had been very vague. + +"'Liph did write me when he married, even promised to come and see me, +but he never came." + +Miss Claghorn forgot the fact that in reply to her nephew's letter she +had deplored his connection with Romanism and had urged instant +attention to the duty of converting his wife. The philosopher may have +justly enough felt that there could be but little sympathy between +himself and one whose congratulations on his nuptials were in part a +wail of regret, in part an admonitory sermon. + +"You know, Aunt, he did intend to come." + +"To see Mrs. Joe--well, no doubt he would have been glad to see me, too. +I am sorry we never met after so many years." + +Besides the tenderness displayed to Natalie alone, there were evidences +of change in the mistress of the White House, apparent to all; and while +these were properly ascribed to the new inmate, the fact that that +influence could work such wonders excited surprise. The neighbors were +astonished to behold the novel sight of perennially open parlor windows, +and thought with misgiving upon the effect of sunshine on Miss +Claghorn's furniture. At times strange sounds issued from the hitherto +silent dwelling, operatic melodies, or snatches of chansons, trilled +forth in a foreign tongue. "The tunes actually get into my legs," +observed Tabitha to a neighbor. "The sobber de mong pare'd make an elder +dance," an assertion which astonished the neighbor less than Miss Cone's +familiarity with the French language. But comment was actually stricken +dumb when both Miss Claghorn and Tabitha appeared in public with sprigs +of color in their headgear and visible here and there upon their +raiment. + +"I believe you'd bewitch Old Nick himself," observed Tabitha. + +"I have," replied Natalie. "He's promised me a shrub." + +"I don't mean Nick that brings the garden sass," and the spinster +groaned at the benighted condition of one so ignorant as to fail to +recognize a familiar appellation of the enemy of souls. "You've worked +your grand-aunt out of a horse." + +"Your voice is that of an oracle, Tab, and I, who am stupid, do not +understand." + +"She's going to give you a horse." + +"Then should you not rather say that I have worked a horse out of my +grand-aunt? which is still oracular; wherefore expound, Tab." + +"She told me herself. It's my belief she's in love with you. She'd give +you her head, if you asked." + +"She's given me her heart, which is better. And so have you; and you're +both ashamed of it. Why is that, Tabby?" + +"Well," replied Tabitha, making no denial, "you see we're not +French--thank God! When we were young we were kept down, as was the +fashion." + +"I do not like that fashion." + +"You'd like it less if you knew anything about it. It has to come out +some time; that's the reason your songs get into my legs, and----" + +"And?" questioningly, for Tabitha had paused. + +"Well, your aunt was never in love--never had the chance, 's far's I +know; but if she had, it had to be kept down--and now it comes out. +Lucky it didn't strike an elder with a raft of children and no money." + +"Much better that it has struck me than an elder--that will be a friar. +I have no children, some money and a whole heart. But this tale of a +horse?" + +"Ever since you told us about ridin' in the Bawdy Bolone she's had +Leonard on the lookout. He's found one over to Moffat's. She wants you +to look at it before she buys." + +"But----" + +"I know--you've money of your own to buy horses. That's what she's +afraid you'll say. You mustn't. She's set her heart on it." + +The horse was accepted without demur, if with some secret misgiving as +to adding a new link to the chain which was binding her to Easthampton; +and it was peculiarly grateful. Ever since that day when Natalie had +astonished Tabitha by improvising a waltz, her gaiety had been +feverish, almost extravagant, the result of a craving for physical +excitement; the desire to jump, to run, to leap, to execute for +Tabitha's delectation dances which would have made Miss Claghorn stare. +The horse in some degree filled the craving. She rode constantly, +sometimes alone, galloping wildly in secluded lanes; sometimes sedately +with Paula and an attendant; often with Leonard, an ardent equestrian, a +fact not forgotten by the donor of the horse when the gift was made. + +In the eyes of Miss Achsah, as in other eyes, Leonard embodied the +finest type of the fine race to which he belonged, combining in his +person physical graces not generally vouchsafed to these favorites of +heaven, as well as those nobler attributes with which they had been so +liberally endowed, and which rendered them worthy of the celestial +preference. It was religious to believe that these graces of person and +of manner were not given without a purpose, and aided by the same pious +deduction which usually recognizes in similar charms a snare of Satan, +Miss Claghorn beheld in this instance a device of Providence for winning +a soul. + +Besides the facilities for conversion thus utilized, Miss Achsah +discerned other grounds for hope. In the frequent lapses into +thoughtfulness, even sadness, on the part of the unbeliever, she +recognized the beginning of that spiritual agitation which was to result +in the complete submission of the erring soul to heaven; nor was she +negligent in dropping those words which, dropped in season, may afford +savory and sustaining food to a hungry spirit. Had Natalie displayed +that mental agony and tribulation which naturally accompanies the fear +of hell, and which is, therefore, a frequent preliminary terror of +conversion, Miss Claghorn would have called in her pastor, as in +physical ills she would have called in the doctor; but since Natalie +displayed nothing more than frequent thoughtfulness and melancholy, and, +as with some natures (and the lady knew it was true of the Claghorn +nature) antagonism is aroused by over-solicitude, she easily persuaded +herself that, for the present at least, the case was better in the +competent hands of Leonard, to whom she solemnly confided it. She feared +the treatment of a more experienced, yet perhaps harsher practitioner, +whose first idea would be the necessity of combating Romanism. For the +secret of Natalie's unbelief remained undisclosed, and Miss Claghorn +dreaded such disclosure as sure to bring disgrace upon the family name. +Finally, she had another reason, not the least important, for providing +Leonard with the chance of winning that soul, which she hoped would +become for him the most precious of the souls of men. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE SECRET OF HER HEART WAS NEVER TO BE TOLD BY HER TO HIM. + + +"She must be warned from Father Cameril," said Miss Claghorn. + +"Do you suppose _he_ could influence her?" observed Leonard scornfully. +"I shall not forget my duty, Cousin Achsah. Meanwhile, remember that she +is a Claghorn. That means something." + +"A great deal; still, there was her father--and Lettie Stanley----" + +"I think you are rather hard on her. I believe that Mrs. Stanley is a +good woman." + +"Will goodness alone attain heaven?" + +Leonard did not answer. Mrs. Stanley's chances of heaven had no great +interest for him. + +If he seemed somewhat less solicitous than Miss Claghorn had expected it +was because already his musings were tending in a direction not +theological. "How lovely she is!" This had been his thought on his first +visit to Easthampton, while Natalie's little hand still lay in his in +welcome. He noted, as he watched her afterward, the fitful sadness of +her eyes, and longed to share her unknown sorrow. He saw the ripe red +lips and his bosom glowed, his eyes grew dreamy and his cheeks flushed +pink. He had never, so Paula averred, been as handsome as on that +evening. + +He was now a daily visitor, equally welcome at the White House or at +Stormpoint, and the relations between the two establishments were such +that a hope arose within the bosom of Mrs. Joe that she might be able to +report to Mr. Hacket that Miss Claghorn had actually dined with the +Bishop. She ventured to confide to Miss Achsah certain aspirations in +regard to Mark, and her confidence was well received and her plans +applauded. Miss Claghorn thought it fitting that Mark, who was nearer +to her in blood than Leonard, should assume in worldly affairs that +eminence which in higher matters would be Leonard's. It was plain that +when the time came such influence as she possessed would be used in +Mark's behalf, barring some untoward circumstance, which Mrs. Joe was +resolved should not occur. And to prevent it she warned Father Cameril +that his wiles were not to be practised upon Natalie. His prayers, her +own and Paula's, she informed him, must, for the present, suffice. She +was aware that Miss Claghorn had personally taken charge of a matter +which, to do Mrs. Joe justice, she regarded as of supreme importance. +But, St. Perpetua notwithstanding, her opinions were liberal. She +supposed that good people went to heaven, and she was not sternly rigid +in her definition of goodness. As to where bad people went, her ideas +were vague. She did not question Miss Claghorn's Christianity, though +she did not admire its quality, but she knew that on the first attempt +to entice Natalie by the allurements presented by St. Perpetua, the +bonds of amity now existing would be strained. She even went so far as +to assure her sister-in-law that Father Cameril should be "kept in his +place," an assurance which was accepted with the grim rejoinder that it +were well that he be so kept. + +Wherefore, it would seem that those exalted aspirations which had warmed +Leonard's bosom, when he had learned from Paula that his French cousin +was to be a resident of Easthampton, would be reawakened, and that he +would gladly attempt their realization. Alas! other, and more alluring +visions, engaged his senses. + +To say that he had loved the maid, Berthe, is only to say that which +would be true of any man of similar temperament under similar +circumstances. The kiss of those lips, over which he had so rapturously +lingered, had been his first taste of passion. It may be a sorrowful, +but it is not a surprising, fact, that it should affect him violently +and color his dreams of a sentiment hitherto unknown. He had taken a +long step in a pathway which was to lead him far, though he was as +ignorant of the fact as he was of the fact that, in this respect, his +education had commenced unfortunately. + +He was sufficiently a man of the world to be aware that the emotion in +which he had reveled could have no satisfactory result. He would no more +have considered the advisability of marrying Natalie's maid than would +the Marquis de Fleury; and as to any other possibility, such as +perchance might have occupied the mind of the noble Marquis, it never +even entered his thoughts. In his ignorance he was innocent, and had he +been less so, would still have possessed in the moral lessons of his +training a sufficient safeguard. Yet the kiss was to have its results. +Woman's lips would, to him, bear a different aspect from that of +heretofore. + +And so the days passed very happily, though Leonard's conscience often +pricked him. Natalie's soul was still in danger. + +"Cousin," he said one day--they were sitting among the trees of +Stormpoint, the girl sketching, he watching her--"Do you----?" He +stopped, blushing. + +She thought the blush very engaging as she looked up with a smile. Women +rarely looked upon the handsome, innocent face, except smilingly. "Do I +what, Leonard?" she asked. + +"Do you ever think of religion? I am a clergyman, Natalie." + +"I think a great deal of religion." Her eyes fell before his. He had +touched a secret corner of her heart, and at first she shrank; yet the +touch pleased her; not less so because of his manner which, though he +was secretly ashamed of it, was in his favor. It was not easy for him to +discuss the topic with her, to play the role of teacher and enlarge upon +a theme which was far from his thoughts. The fact lent him the grace of +embarrassment, leading her to believe that the topic was to him a sacred +one. Truly, her soul was burdened. Who more apt to aid her than this +young devotee, who had consecrated a life to that knowledge for which +she yearned? + +"You know, Natalie, as a minister----" + +"It is your duty to convert me," she interrupted, looking again upward, +and smiling. "That is what Tabitha says." + +"Perhaps Tabitha is right. I think I ought." + +"Suppose you were to try, what would you have me do?" + +What would he have her do? The man within him cried: "I would have you +love me, kiss me, pillow my head upon your breast and let me die there!" +But the man within him was audible only to him. "I would advise you to +read"--he stopped. What he had been about to say was so utterly +incongruous--to advise reading the Westminster Confession, when he +longed to call upon her to read the secrets of his soul! + +"I have read enough," she answered. "Lately I have done better"--she +hesitated; he noted the flushed cheek and downcast eyes, the tremulous +tone of her voice. She was affected, he believed, religiously. He +remembered the day on the terrace of Heidelberg, when he had so yearned +over the wandering soul, and again with his love--for he knew it was +love, and always had been--was mingled the higher aspiration to +reconcile the wayward spirit with its Maker. He would have taken her +hand, but he felt tremulously shy. "What have you done?" he asked +gently. + +Much had been told her of the sweet relief of confession to a priest. +Here was a confessor, sympathetic, she knew from his tone. Yet she had +no sins to confess (belief in which incongruity demonstrates her state +of darkness). + +"I--have prayed," she said at length, and the shy admission seemed to +create a bond between them. Another shared her confidence, and the fact +lightened her spirit. She told herself it was so, and had it been true +the future might have been brighter; but the real secret of her heart +was never to be told by her to him. She looked up, a faint sheen of +tears in her eyes, a smile upon her lips. + +"Indeed, you have done better," he answered, the eyes and the smile +summoning that inner man with a power hard to resist. "You need no +guidance from me," he said huskily. "God bless and help you, Natalie!" +He placed a trembling hand upon her head, as was seemly in a priest, +and, turning abruptly, walked away. + +"Ah!" she sighed, as she watched him. "There must be something in +religion. Fraeulein Rothe was right, and my dear father was wrong." + +Thus Leonard's fears concerning Natalie's salvation were quieted. If she +prayed, it was plain that she was called, and though her ears might +still be deaf, she would hear in the appointed time. + +Had he comprehended her utter misapprehension as to orthodox tenets, he +might have been awakened to a stricter sense of duty. But this was his +first heathen, and he is hardly to be blamed that he did not recognize +the extent of her ignorance; or, in his lack of knowledge of humanity, +at all to be blamed that he failed to discern the true nature of her +religious cravings, alluring to her soul because her soul was hungry; +for God, perhaps--for who shall say that God has no part in human +love?--but not for Leonard's God. He had never been informed of the +deceased philosopher's method of training, and would, certainly, have +doubted its success had he known of it. That one could attain years of +discretion in a Christian country, lacking even an elementary knowledge +of Christian doctrine, would have been to Leonard incredible. He could +not remember the time that he had not known that in Adam's fall we all +fell, and that had there been no Atonement there would be no Salvation. +For so much, and similar doctrinal essentials, he accorded Natalie full +credit; and, since she had escaped the taint of Romanism, he felt that +no real obstacle stood in the way of her growth in grace. + +Meanwhile, Natalie had no more knowledge that, unless her name had been +from before creation inscribed upon the roll of the elect, she must, for +the glory of God, infallibly be damned, than has a Patagonian. She felt +that outside of humanity there was something on which humanity must +lean, and that it was God. Priests, sisters of charity and sweet girls +like Paula knew about God, and all these had told her that the way to +find out what they knew was to pray; and, in her outer darkness, she +prayed, her prayers the prayers of a heathen; not heard in heaven, if we +are correctly informed as to heaven's willingness to hear. Yet to her +they brought some solace. And in her petitions for enlightenment of her +ignorance, she besought happiness for others, not for Mark Claghorn +only; henceforth she included the name of Leonard. + +As for him, he was no longer haunted by troublesome recollections of +Berthe. He thought of her, it is true, and with tenderness, though with +a smile, and accusing himself of youthfulness. He was now sure that he +had never seriously loved her. It had been a _penchant_, a _petit +amour_--the Gallic flavor of the words was not altogether +ungrateful--and the experience would have its uses. These things +happened to some men; happy they who escaped them; a humdrum life was +safer. Sinning was dangerous; to weaklings, fatal; such a one would have +been burned in the ordeal of fire. He had escaped, nor had he any +intention of being again taken unawares. He did not attempt to palliate +the grave wrong of which he had been guilty; he would have resented such +palliation on the part of an apologist. In certain sins there lurks a +tinge of glory, and one has a right, accepting the blame, to appropriate +the glory. But his resolve that the one misstep should be the last, as +it had been the first of his life, was sternly made. He was strong now, +and was glad to admit that much of his strength derived its power from a +sweeter passion glowing in his bosom. His heart swelled with joy that he +could love, feeling only such misgivings as lovers must. It was a sin to +love and long for Berthe whom he wouldn't marry. To transfer to Natalie +the love he had given to Berthe, to hunger and to burn, to feed his eyes +upon the outward form, unheeding the fairer creature within, to revel in +visions and forbidden dreams--this was love, this the lesson his +carefully guarded life had prepared him to learn from wanton lips. + +Who, being in love, has not shown himself to the loved one at his best? +If he was unquiet within, he was sufficiently tranquil in manner to +avoid any startling manifestation of ardor. If there was art in the +graceful coyness of his approach, it was unconscious art. To Natalie he +appeared with more alluring gentleness, and surer fascination, than the +most practised veteran of love's battles. She had seen chivalrous +elegance so studied as to charm by its seeming unaffectedness; but the +most successful picture is not reality, and in Leonard she noted the +nature superior to art; nature softened and adorned by demeanor graced +and made tender by the inward tremors of love, as a rugged landscape is +beautified by the mellow tint of a gray day. + +Above all, though if this was known in secret it was unconfessed, was +Leonard aided by that which was to be forever hidden in the woman's +heart. There were rumors of Mark's return, rumors which agitated +Natalie, strive as she might to look forward to that return without +emotion. How could she leave the home where love had been so generously +bestowed? Mrs. Joe would no longer be ashamed that she had given her +warning--and Natalie had not been sorry to believe that the lady was +ashamed--for she would know that it had been needed. And Miss +Claghorn--how would she understand it? How Paula? Perhaps she saw, if +but dimly yet, an escape from the perplexities which inspired the +questions. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A LOVER WRITES A LETTER. + + +If a Parisian philosopher, animated by the love of that wisdom which is +deducible by philosophic methods from the study of mankind, had emerged +from his abode, on a certain summer evening, in quest of the solution of +that great riddle, Why is this thus? and, seeking an answer, had scanned +the visages of the passers upon the Boulevard, he would, perhaps, have +noticed the face and bearing of a man who strolled alone and listless; +and, it being a fine evening of early summer, at an hour when, +philosophers having dined, are ruminative, he might have fallen into +speculation, and asking himself the meaning of this man's face, would, +perhaps, have deduced discontent, becoming habitual and tending toward +cynicism; and if a philosopher of the weeping, rather than the laughing +variety, he would have mourned over the atom of humanity, beneath whose +careworn lines and shadows of dissatisfaction there lay forgotten noble +promise. And, to sum up the philosophic conclusions (for, like other +philosophers, our hypothetical lover of wisdom is growing tiresome) he, +being aware of the cause of much mundane misery, might have decided that +the man had lost money, and would have been wrong, for the man was one +whom financial loss could hardly touch. The Great Serpent might refuse +to yield for weeks, aye forever, and Mark Claghorn would have been +content. In truth, its annual product was a burden heavier than he +thought he ought, in fairness, to be called upon to bear. He liked +companionship, being naturally well disposed toward his fellows, yet, as +he said to himself, the loneliness of this evening stroll in the centre +of mirth and good fellowship had its reason in his wealth. A man such as +he, so he told himself, is forced, in the nature of things, to purchase +all the joys of life, and being purchased they had but slight attraction +for him; thus ordinarily he was solitary and somewhat given to +brooding, though wise enough to utter no complaint on a score wherein he +certainly would have found but slight sympathy. + +He strolled on, paying little heed to any, except when occasionally the +clank of a sabre or the faint jingle of a spur signified a cavalryman in +the vicinity; then he would glance at the cavalryman, and with a quickly +satisfied curiosity, pass on, listless as before. + +He entered a cafe, and calling for a "bock," lit a cigar and proceeded +to seek distraction in tobacco and beer, while looking over the pages of +the "_Vie Parisienne_," but apparently found no amusement in that very +Gallic periodical. At last he drew a letter from his pocket. "Little +Paula," he muttered, as he opened the sheet, and his tone was kindly, if +not tender. "I suppose, in the end, my mother will see the fulfilment of +the wish she thinks so carefully concealed," he muttered, and then, as +if to find encouragement to filial duty in the letter itself, he +commenced to read, and was thus engaged when he felt a hand upon his +shoulder, and heard the exclamation, "Claghorn!" He looked up and, +rising, accepted the outstretched hand of Adolphe de Fleury. + +"I was not sure whether it was you or your ghost," said Adolphe. "When +did you leave America?" + +"Over a year since," replied Mark; then, unmindful of the look of +surprise in the face of his companion, he added: "I hoped I might meet +you. I am only here for a few hours, and the opportunity to congratulate +you----" + +"To congratulate! May I ask why I am to be congratulated?" interrupted +the lieutenant. + +"Usually a newly married man; or one about to be----" + +"Claghorn, you can hardly--do you mean that you believed me married?" + +"Married, or about to be. I heard from the Marquise while at St. +Petersburg----" + +"And I have suspected you! Know, my dear fellow, though I had rather you +heard it from somebody else, that I am very far from married. I am +jilted; abandoned by our fair but cruel cousin, who has fled from my +mother's protection and taken refuge among the Yankees." + +"Do you mean that Natalie is in America?" + +"Just that, _mon cher_, and with her Berthe of the wonderful eyes." + +Mark's innocence of all knowledge of the fact stated was evident in his +face. He was astounded; at the same time a sense of joy swept across his +soul. He looked hastily at his watch; it was too late to call upon the +Marquise, unless, indeed, she had company, in which case he would not be +able to see her alone. But, looking at his watch inspired him with an +excuse to plead an appointment, which he did, and left his companion. + +The next day he called upon Madame de Fleury, and on his return to his +hotel, he wrote the following letter: + + "My Dear Cousin Natalie--Last night I arrived here direct from + St. Petersburg, being merely a bird of passage, and on my way + to London. I had expected to be there by this time, but after + meeting Adolphe de Fleury, I deferred my departure until I + could see the Marquise. Doubtless, my letters in London will + convey the information which has been imparted by her. To say + that I was surprised to hear that you had gone to America + hardly expresses my feeling; but surprise is cast into the + shade by gratification. Now that your reasons for the step you + have taken have been so freely disclosed to me by Madame de + Fleury (who insisted upon reading to me passages from your + letters), I hope you will not regard it as intrusive in me if I + express my admiration of your independence and complete + approbation of your conduct. You are in spirit a true American, + and I congratulate both you and our country upon the fact. Do + you remember the day I said 'good-bye' to you? Had you then any + inkling of the true reason for my adieu? Your father had just + informed me that since girlhood you had been the betrothed of + Adolphe de Fleury. Monsieur Claghorn at the time assured me + that had not this been the case I should have had his good + wishes in regard to the aspirations I had just laid before him. + I have never laid those aspirations before you, nor can I do so + adequately in a letter; nor at this time, when so long a period + has elapsed since I last saw you. What I have to say must be + said in person, and so unsatisfactory is this method of + addressing you on the subject that I may not send this letter. + + "But, if you receive it, understand why I write it. It seems, + perhaps, laughable--though it does not seem so to me--that I + should be haunted by a terror which darkens the new hope that + has arisen within me. You are thousands of miles away. True, it + is not easily conceivable that you may become lost to me in so + brief a residence in America, yet the idea is constantly with + me. I blame that which I then believed the honorable reticence + which I ought to maintain toward you after my interview with + your father, and having heard his assurances of intentions, + which I, of course, supposed were approved by you. Had I shown + you the least glimpse of a sentiment which it cost me much to + conceal, I might now be freed from the dread which oppresses + me. I am even tempted to send you a telegraphic message; yet I + picture you reading such a message and shrink from seeming + ridiculous in your eyes. As to this letter, I am impelled to + say as much as I have said while that which I desire to say is + plainly enough indicated. I had supposed it possible to + disclose and yet conceal it. But the letter is wiser than I + intended it to be. My most ardent hope is that within a few + days after its receipt you will listen to all that is here + omitted. + + "Faithfully, + + "MARK CLAGHORN." + +He sent the letter, unsatisfactory and feeble as he knew it to be. He +chafed at the necessity of deferring his departure for America; but the +Great Serpent was importunate, and even for love a man cannot disregard +the claims of others. Engagements connected with the mine, made long +since, must receive attention before he could leave Europe. + +But, during the intervals of business, even pending its details, he was +hourly tempted to send a dispatch and be ridiculous. But he refrained. +He sailed for America four days after sending the letter. He had not +been absurd; his dignity was saved. Who that is wise in a wise +generation listens to intuitions? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A KISS THAT MIGHT HAVE LINGERED ON HIS LIPS WHILE SEEKING ENTRANCE AT +THE GATE OF HEAVEN. + + +At the foot of the cliff whereon Mrs. Joe had erected a monument to the +Great Serpent in the form of a castle, the ocean beats in calm weather +with a sullen persistence which increases with the rising wind from +spiteful lashing into furious pounding against the unshaken crag, +accompanied by a roar of futile rage. Stormpoint affords no nook of +shelter for a distressed craft, and the rocks, submerged beneath the +vexed waters, render the coast hereabout even more dangerous than does +the sheer wall of stone which appals the mariner caught in the storm and +driven shoreward. Once around the point, the little harbor of +Easthampton offers safety, but it has happened that vessels, unable to +weather Stormpoint, have been dashed against the rocks and human beings +have been tossed about in the seething foam beneath the crags; or men +have clung to wreckage in sight of wailing wives and mothers, and of +children to be orphaned in the rush of the next black billow. + +From the rocks hereabout no lifeboat can be launched at times when +lifeboats are needed, therefore the coast-guard station is nearer the +harbor, where there is a beach upon which the waves slide upward, +spending their strength, and where even in the storm they can be ridden +by resolute men; but no boat can live among the rocks in the raging +waters beneath the cliff. And so, Mrs. Joe, with the approval of the +authorities, had built on the ledge of the cliffside (enlarged and +widened for the purpose) a house, in which were kept appliances for +casting lines athwart wrecked craft. There were plenty to ridicule the +benevolent lady, some on the score of the futility of preparing for an +improbable disaster (less than a dozen ships had been lost there in a +century; and probably not, in all that time, a hundred lives); others +because while yet another ship might be driven thither, no human effort +could then avert her doom. Mrs. Joe, notwithstanding these arguments, +carried out her intention, and waited, hoping that she would never be +justified by the event. + +One day Natalie and Leonard were in the "wreck house," as the structure +had come to be called; a high wind, constantly increasing, was blowing, +and from their position they saw all the grandeur of the ocean, rolling +in majesty toward the wall of rock, an assailing mass, seeming inspired +with malevolent intelligence and boundless strength, but, caught by the +sunken rocks, the onset would be broken, and, bellowing with rage, each +mighty billow would recede, only to be followed by another, as angry and +as awful of aspect as the last. + +It was a sight before which human passion was cowed and human pride was +humbled. As Leonard watched Natalie, silently contemplating the grandeur +of the scene, her dark hair blowing back from the smooth white brow, +beneath which eyes, as unfathomable as the ocean itself, looked +yearningly out into the storm, he had a clear perception that the +emotions he had harbored and nourished as to this woman were unworthy of +the soul in her fathomless eyes. In the presence of nature, feebly +stirred as yet, but with a promise of the mighty strength restrained, +and perhaps, too, his nobler self responding unconsciously to the purity +of the woman at his side, the grosser passion that had vexed him was +subdued; desire for the woman was lost in desire to share the woman's +heart. + +The darkening heavens sinking into the gloom of the ocean, where in the +distance the rolling masses of cloud and water seemed to meet, the +roaring wind, the waves booming on the cliff, and the boiling cauldron +of death beneath their feet--in the presence of these things words could +not utter thoughts unutterable; they stood long silent. + +"Who, then, is this, that He commandeth even the winds and the water, +and they obey Him?" Leonard heard her murmur these words. + +"Who, indeed?" he said. "How can man deny God in the face of this?" + +"In the face of anything?" + +"Or deny His Revelation? Natalie, it is true." + +"Is it true?" + +"As true as the waters or the sky--Natalie, Natalie, it is true." + +His tone trembled with a tenderness deeper than the tenderness of +passion. She looked and saw his eyes with a sheen of tears upon them; no +gleam of earthly desire looked out of them, but the yearning for a soul. +In the presence of the Majesty of God the nobler spirit had awakened and +answered to the longing of the girl to know the secret of the waves, the +rocks, the skies; the secret of herself and of the man beside her--the +eternal truth, hidden always, yet always half revealed to questioning +man. + +"Religion is very dear to you, Leonard?" + +"Dearer than all but God Himself. Dearer than riches, honors--dearer, +Natalie, than the love I bear for you." + +It was said without the usual intent of lover's vows, and so she +understood it. She made no answer. + +And then they saw a sight which made them forget all else--a +fellow-creature, driving helplessly to destruction beneath their feet. + +It was a lad, ignorant, it would seem, of the management of the frail +vessel in which he was the sole passenger. Even in the hands of an +experienced sailor the little boat, intended for smooth water only, +would have been unsafe; now, unskilfully fitted with a mast and sail, +managed by ignorant hands, and driven toward a coast that had no +shelter, the storm rising each moment, the outlook was desperate for the +voyager. + +Leonard seized a trumpet from the appliances with which the wreck-house +was furnished, and leaning far out of the window, bawled in stentorian +tones, some order, which, whether heard by the boy or not, was unheeded. +Indeed, the desperate situation seemed to have paralyzed him; he clung +to the tiller with the proverbial clutch of the drowning man, utterly +incapable of other action, if indeed other action could prevail. + +Seizing a line, Leonard ran down the stairway to a platform built +against the cliff and not many feet above the water. Natalie followed. +The wind was rising every moment, the tide running higher with each +succeeding wave, and now, as she noticed, even reaching the platform. +Leonard noticed, too. "It is not safe here," he shouted to her, for the +wind howled in their ears and the noise of the surge emulated the noise +of the wind. At the same time he pointed to the stairway, signifying +that she should return, but took no further heed of her. His one thought +was to do the thing that would save the life in peril. She did not know +what he was about to do, but watched him, ready to lend assistance, +though without taking her eyes from the boy in the boat. Thus far it had +escaped the sunken rocks, but it could not long escape the shore. The +wind had blown the sail from its fastenings and it tossed upon the +waves. Only the whirlpool formed by the sunken rocks and the sullenly +receding waters, which had but a moment before been hurled against the +cliff, stayed the wreck of the craft. It needed no experienced eye to +recognize the imminence of the peril of the boy, and the sight of the +solitary being, helpless and exposed to the rude mercy of the waves, was +pitiful. Natalie wrung her hands and prayed in French, and while the +infidel prayed the clergyman acted. + +He had intended to cast the weighted end of the line across the boat and +so give its passenger communication with the shore; even so, the case of +the lad would have been but slightly bettered, since, though fast to the +rope, to avoid being dashed against the rocks would be barely possible; +but Leonard, almost in the act of throwing, saw that his intention was +impracticable. He must wait until the boat had come a little nearer. +Natalie, with alarm that was almost horror, saw him remove his coat and +boots; she would have remonstrated, but she felt that remonstrance was +useless. He stood a waiting hero, his whole being absorbed in the task +before him. That task involved his plunging into the boiling surf, the +very abyss of death. Who can say that some premonition of the future was +not upon him, as, with uplifted head and watching eyes, he stood +statue-like awaiting the supreme moment? Who knows but he was warned +that better for him the whirlpool below than the woman at his side! + +Keenly watching the boat, his hands had still been busy, and from the +line he had fashioned a loop, which now he fitted over his head and +beneath his armpits. The other end of the line he secured to a ring in +the platform, and then, having said nothing to Natalie, but now taking +her hand in his own, and holding it tightly, he waited. + +Not long. As in a flash she saw the boat in fragments, the boy in the +water, and in the same instant Leonard plunged in. + +She seized the line, but let it have play. Leonard had reached the boy +in one stroke, had him in his very grasp, when a huge receding wave tore +them asunder, and both were lost to Natalie. + +She pulled with all her strength. She knew that the boy was drowned and +had no hope for Leonard; her hold of the rope aided in his rescue, as +she was able to prevent his being carried away; but had it not been that +the next wave swept him upon the platform, where he was instantly seized +and dragged far backward by Natalie, who herself barely escaped being +swept off, he must have been either drowned or dashed dead against the +rocks. + +For some minutes she believed him drowned. She had dragged him to a +place of comparative safety and he lay quite still with his head in her +lap. But after awhile he sighed and looked into her eyes, and at last +sat up. "The boy?" he said. + +"Gone," she sobbed. + +After some moments he arose, and feebly enough, assisted her to rise, +and they sat upon the stairway, and after awhile got into the +wreck-house. Here Leonard knew where to find restoratives, as well as a +huge blanket, in which he wrapped himself and Natalie. + +And so they sat side by side, enveloped in one covering, both quite +silent, until he said: "Natalie, I have been praying." + +"Teach me, Leonard." + +"While I live," he answered, and he turned his face and kissed her. + +It was the second time that he had kissed woman, but this was a kiss +that might have lingered on his lips while seeking entrance at the gate +of heaven. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +A DISHONEST VEILING OF A WOMAN'S HEART. + + +There was joy at Stormpoint. Before the eyes of Mrs. Joe there rose the +vision of a senate spell-bound by the resonant voice of oratory, while +in the same foreshadowing of the time to come Paula beheld Father +Cameril triumphant over the Bishop and strong in reliance upon the +stalwart arm of a soldier newly enrolled in the army of the Church +Militant. Mark had returned, and it was while gazing upon his +countenance that these seers saw their delectable visions and dreamed +their pleasant dreams. + +Upon this, the first evening of his return, the three sat together in +the library of Stormpoint, Mark submitting, with that external grace +which becomes the man placed upon a pedestal by worshipping woman, to +the adoration of his mother and of Paula; the while secretly ungrateful +and chafing because it was not possible to see Natalie before bedtime. + +They had dined cosily together, and the wanderer had been treated as the +prodigal of old, the substitute for fatted calf being the choicest +viands procurable and the rarest vintage of the Stormpoint cellar; yet +he had not enjoyed his dinner, being oppressed by vague forebodings; and +it was irksome to feign a smiling interest where could be no interest +until he had received an answer to his letter to Natalie. Naturally, he +had inquired as to the welfare of all the Claghorns of the vicinity, and +had expressed satisfaction at replies which indicated health and +prosperity among his relatives. + +"I would have asked them all to dinner," said Mrs. Joe, "but I knew that +they would understand that we would be glad to have you to ourselves +to-night. Leonard and Natalie are always considerate." + +"Leonard was always a favorite of yours," observed Mark, who did not +greatly relish this coupling of names, and who could hardly trust +himself to discuss Natalie. + +"A good young man," replied the lady. "He is almost one of us." + +Mark looked quizzically at Paula, who blushed but said nothing. The +blush was a relief to him. "He is a fine fellow," he said, heartily. "I +have always believed in Leonard, though I don't admire his profession or +his creed. But there are good men among theologians, and I'm sure he is +one of them." + +"But, my son," remonstrated Mrs. Joe, "that is not the way to talk of +clergymen." + +"Fie! mother. Would you deny that there are good men among the clergy?" + +"Mark, you know I meant something very different. We only wish Leonard +was in the Church." + +"How can he be out of it, being a Christian?" + +"There is but one Church," observed Paula gravely. + +"The Holy Catholic Church," added Mrs. Joe. + +"Which term you and Paula assume as belonging especially to your +denomination," laughed Mark. "I doubt if even your own divines would be +so arrogant. Mother, this young saint is evidently as intolerant as +ever; and she is making you like herself," and he placed his hand, +kindly enough, on the girl's shoulder. + +Her eyes filled with tears. "Mark," she said, "you may laugh at me, but +religion ought to be sacred." + +"Both you and your religion ought to be, and are," he answered, and +stooped and kissed her forehead; and, though she did not look up, for +she dared not meet his eyes, he was forgiven. + +The elder lady was surprised, but she noted Mark's action with high +approval. Of all the hopes that she had woven round her son, that one +which contemplated his marriage with Paula was supreme. She had trained +the girl for this high destiny, though, true to her instincts, she had +been as politic in this as in other objects of ambition, and neither of +the two whose fortunes she intended to shape were in her confidence. She +rightly divined that nothing would so surely incite to rebellion on the +part of Mark as an open attempt to control him in a matter of this +nature, and was wise enough to know that a disclosure of her hopes to +Paula would place the girl in a false position, whereby she must +inevitably lose that engaging simplicity which, aside from her beauty, +was her greatest charm. The lady had, as we know, been compelled by the +exigencies of policy to impart her cherished plan to more than one +individual; and after she had done so to Natalie, she had been in terror +until opportunity occurred to insure silence. + +"You see, my dear," she had explained to Natalie, "he has not actually +spoken. Paula, like any other girl so situated, knows what is coming, +but of course----" + +"Dear Mrs. Joe, I should not in any case have mentioned the matter." + +"I ought to have been more reticent, but----" + +"I am sure you did what you thought best," at which reply the lady's +color had deepened and the subject was dropped. + +Thus Mark's action rendered his mother happy, for, notwithstanding her +sanguine disposition, she had often suffered misgivings. At times, +during her son's frequent absences, her fears had risen high, and with +each return home she watched him, narrowly scrutinizing his belongings, +even going so far as to rummage among his letters, to discover if there +existed any ground for fear. Her anxieties stilled and their object once +more under the maternal eye, she was willing, since she must be, that he +be deliberate in falling in love. She knew men thoroughly, so she +believed, having known one a little, and was persuaded that the older he +grew, the more certain was Mark to appreciate that highest womanly +attribute so plainly discernible in Paula--pliancy. To man, so Mrs. Joe +believed, that was the supreme excellence in woman. And there had been +in Paula's reception of Mark's caress a certain coyness, becoming in +itself, and which had lent an air of tenderness to the little scene. +Paula had cast her eyes downward in that modest confusion proper to +maidens and inviting to men; doubtless Mark would be glad to repeat a +homage so engagingly received. + +None of these rosy inferences were shared by Paula. During Mark's last +sojourn at Stormpoint, which had been immediately after leaving France +and constant intercourse with the household of Beverley Claghorn, she +had made her own observations and drawn her own conclusions. Whatever +the reason for Mark's action, she knew it portended nothing for her, and +if she had received his fraternal kiss in some confusion, it was because +she dreaded the possibility of sorrow in store for him, a sorrow +connected with a secret confided to her within a few hours. + +"Now that you are home again, Mark," said his mother, "I want your +promise not to run away." + +"You know men, mother; if I make a promise, I shall inevitably want to +break it." + +"But you wouldn't." + +"Better not tempt the weak. Isn't that so, Paula?" + +"Better not be weak." + +"I am serious, Mark," said Mrs. Joe. "You must consider the future; you +should plan a career." + +"I have no intention of running away; certainly not to-night." + +"Nor any night, I hope." + +"You know," he said with some hesitation, "it is possible I may have to +go to California." + +"Nonsense! What is Benton paid for? I need you. We ought to select a +city home, and I want your taste, your judgment." + +"My dear mother, the city home will be yours. Why haven't you chosen one +long since?" + +"As if I would without consulting you!" + +He smiled, but forebore to remind her that he had not been consulted +with regard to Stormpoint. "Whatever is your taste is mine," he said. +"These gilded cages are for pretty birds like you and Paula; as for +me----" + +"That's nonsense. I am willing to keep your nest warm, but----" + +"If I were to consult my own taste, I would re-erect old Eliphalet's +cabin and be a hermit." + +"Mark, you actually hurt me----" + +"My dear mother, you know I'm joking. About this house, then. New York, +I suppose, is the place for good Californians." + +"It would be pleasanter; but it might be policy to remain in the State." + +He looked at her in wonder. "Why?" he asked. + +"It was merely an idea," she replied, blushing, and secretly grieved +that he did not understand. But it was no time to enter into those plans +which were the fruit of many consultations with Mr. Hacket. "It's +getting late; good-night, my dear boy. I know you'll try to please me." +She kissed him, and, with Paula, left the room. + +Left alone, he paced up and down the long room, nervously biting a cigar +which he forgot to light. He knew he would be unable to pass in sleep +the hours that must elapse before he could see Natalie. He was filled +with forebodings; the vague fears which had tempted him to send an +absurd telegraphic message to Natalie had troubled him since he had +first recognized their presence and had grown in strength with each new +day. He was unaware that presentiments and feelings "in the bones," once +supposed to be the laughable delusions of old ladies and nervous younger +ones, were now being regarded with respectful attention as a part of the +things undreamed of in Horatio's philosophy; and, taking his attitude +after the old fashion, he had reasoned with that being which man calls +"himself," and, for the edification of "himself," had shown to that +personage the childishness of indulging in vague and ungrounded fears. +But without success. Philosophers have discovered that which old ladies +always knew, that all explanations of the wherefore of these mental +vagaries are unsatisfactory as long as the vagaries persist; and while +they do, they vex the wise and foolish alike. + +His musings were disturbed by the entrance of Paula, clad in a ravishing +tea-gown, a dainty fragment of humanity. "Mark," she said, "what is the +matter?" for she had been quick to notice and had been startled by the +gloom of his face. + +"Tired, Paula," and he smiled. Somehow Paula always made him smile. + +"If I were tired, I would go to bed," she observed with a faint touch +of sarcasm. "I won't advise bed to you, for I know that you do not +credit me with much sense." + +"Yet it is plain that you have more than I, since you have indicated the +sensible course," he answered pleasantly. "That should be placing you in +high esteem, since we all think well of ourselves." + +"Forgive me," she said with real sorrow for her petulance, for which she +perhaps could have given no reason; "but I have seen that you were +troubled----" + +"And like a dear little sister you overflow with sympathy. Was there +ever anybody kinder or better than you? But the real fact is that I am +simply tired--yet not sleepy." + +"Well"--she sighed wistfully--"you will feel rested to-morrow. I came +down to give you this from Natalie," handing him a note. "I would have +waited until morning, but I----" + +"Did right, as you always do," he answered, kissing her cheek and saying +good-night, and thus dismissing her, with an evident eagerness to read +the note, not lost upon Paula, and which left her no alternative but to +leave him. + +He opened the envelope and read: + + "Dear Mark--Your letter came this morning, and I have just + learned that you will be home to-night. I cannot express to you + how glad I shall be to see you again. Before we meet in the + presence of others, I hope to see you alone. Your letter, dear + Mark, evidently delayed by being addressed in Mr. Winter's + care, has cost me some tears, both of joy and sorrow. I am + impatient to see you, for it seems to me that to you, before to + any other, except to Paula (who would have known by intuition), + I should disclose the happiness that has come to me in my + engagement to Leonard. It is but two days old, and except to + Paula, is known only to ourselves. Dear Mark, it has not been + easy to write these few lines. I wish I could express in them + how sincerely I honor and love you, and how I wish for your + happiness. I have commenced to pray, and the first time I knelt + to heaven I prayed for you; and so long as I shall continue to + pray--and I think that will be always now--I shall not forget + to beg that you be made happy. I hope you will wander no more, + but be oftener with those that love you and who need you more + than you perhaps know; and as I shall live either in Hampton or + Easthampton, and as I must ever regard you as one of my + earliest and my best friend, I hope we shall see each other + often. + + "NATALIE." + + "Oh, Mark, your happiness is at Stormpoint. No one is better, + more loving, or more lovable than she." + +The letter stunned him. He might, had he known women as well as he +(being young) believed he did--he might have read the truth in every +line. He might have seen that were he to rouse his energies and plead +his cause, he could win it, even yet. He might have heard the +unconscious cry for rescue from an engagement contracted before his +letter had reached her; he might have seen, in the pains she had taken +to tell him that such was the case, his excuse and hers for asserting +his rights against Leonard. These things were plain enough; perhaps the +writer had intended that they should be; not consciously, indeed; but +from that inner being who is part of all of us, the desperate hope of +the girl's heart had not been hidden as she wrote, nor was her pen +entirely uncontrolled by it. + +But the postscript obscured his vision. He laughed contemptuously and +thought, as men will think, "It is thus that woman estimates love. She +is sorry for me, and suggests that the consolation I may need I shall +find in Paula!" He did not recognize that in the postscript was the real +dishonesty of the letter; that it was the salve to the conscience of the +writer, believing that in the letter itself she had said too much, +whereas she had said too little for the perception of a man in the haze +of jealousy. Such gleams of truth as might otherwise have been visible +to Mark could not penetrate that dishonest veiling of the woman's +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +A MAN ABOUT TO MEET A MAID. + + +One may approach the White House by way of the High Street of +Easthampton, of which thoroughfare the dwelling in question is a +conspicuous ornament; but for such as prefer a more secluded road, a +grassy lane behind the houses affords direct access to Miss Claghorn's +garden. + +Mark chose the lane. Since, in obedience to Natalie's request, he must +see her, he hoped to find her in the garden, where there would be less +danger of interruption. + +The birds twittered in the trees, joyous in the new day; the dew +glimmered on the grass-blades; the scent of flowers from adjacent +gardens perfumed the fresh air of a perfect summer morning. On such a +morning a man about to meet a maid should have trod the earth lightly. +But Mark lingered as he walked, reluctant to hear his fate pronounced by +lips which he longed to kiss, but could never kiss; lips, therefore, it +were better not to see. Yet, since he had been summoned, he must go on; +and because of the summons there were moments when he still, if faintly, +hoped. Hope dies hard; and, notwithstanding the forebodings which had +vexed him ever since he had written the letter (for which writing he had +since cursed his folly), there had been times when hope had risen high, +and, as he even now assured himself, not without reason. If he had been +self-deceived, it had not been from the complacency of the coxcomb. +Surely she had loved him, or had been willing to love, had that been +permitted her. + +In arguing thus he was not reasoning unfairly. He had been +unintentionally deceived by the philosopher, Beverley Claghorn, who had +permitted the intercourse between his daughter and this young man, +partly from carelessness, more because he approved of a cousinly +friendship of which one of the partakers was able to gratify a noble +sentiment by an addition to the dowry of the other. It had been by +pointing out this ability that he had assuaged the misgivings of the +Marquise; at the same time so solemnly reiterating his loyalty to the +treaty with that lady, that when Mark's disclosure came it had been +impossible for him to receive it otherwise than he had done--by a +regretful rejection. He had been astounded by the avowal, for he had +noted no sighs, no posturing, no eloquent apostrophes or melting glances +from this suitor who approached him with a tale of love, having never +displayed a visible sign of the tender passion. M. Claghorn's +observation of lovers had long been confined to one variety. He forgot +that Anglo-Saxon swains are less prone to languish in public than their +brothers of Gaul. Had Adolphe de Fleury been in Paris there would have +been more frequent flowers, scented billets, rapt gazes, rolling eyes +and eloquential phrases; all offered for the general appreciation as +much as for the lady of his love. In the absence of these familiar +evidences of ardor, the philosopher was, in his own eyes, acquitted of +responsibility for the surprising fact which Mark had imparted to him. +For, how could he suspect a legitimate passion in a youth who had yet to +sow his wild oats, and one with the capacity for acquiring an unlimited +field for that delightful, if futile, and generally expensive, +husbandry? No man of Mark's years could be so wise--or so foolish. That +was, as the philosopher viewed human nature, not in such nature. The +case was different with Adolphe de Fleury, compelled by circumstances to +seize the most attractive dowry that fell in his way; and even that +gallant but impecunious soldier was, doubtless, cultivating a modest +crop as sedulously as circumstances permitted. + +Thus had Mark been the victim of a philosophic mode of thought and had +bowed to that which he had supposed would be the filial, as it had been +the paternal, decision; saying good-bye, sadly, doubtless, but without +betrayal of that which he believed would not be gladly heard, nor could +be honorably disclosed. + +The ocean lay between him and the woman that he loved before he fully +realized how much must be henceforth lacking in his life, and when +repentance was too late he repented that he had taken the philosopher's +word for a fact of which he now sometimes doubted the existence. Many +memories whispered that she, too, had loved. No word of hers had told +him this; but love is not always told in words--and then he would accuse +himself of the folly of permitting vain longings to control his +judgment. Nevertheless, when, while still at Stormpoint, he had heard of +the sudden death of Beverley Claghorn, he had resolved to do that which +before he had omitted, to appeal to Natalie herself, when, most +inopportunely, there came a letter from the Marquise to Mrs. Joe; a +letter which informed the relatives of the deceased that the death of +the father would hasten, rather than retard, the marriage of the +daughter, who had already taken up her residence with the writer of the +epistle, in accordance with the wish of her father. Not long after the +receipt of that letter Mark had started for Russia, leaving France +unvisited. + +He opened the gate which led from the lane into the garden, and +found--Tabitha. + +Who raised her hands in astonishment, then stretched them forth in +welcome: "And so you're back! For how long this time? More of a Claghorn +than ever--as grim as one of the Eliphalets." + +"No need to ask how you are," said Mark, his grimness softened by her +heartiness. "You get younger every year. How are my aunt and----" + +"And Natalie? Blooming--that's the word. You'll find things different at +the White House. We haven't had a good spat in months. Soor le ponty +Avinyon, on y donks, on y donks----" + +"_On y danse_," repeated Mark, laughing at Tabitha's French in spite of +himself. + +"Yes; even my old legs. Your aunt's are too stiff. But we young things, +that's Natalie and I, we cut our capers," and in the exuberance of her +spirits Miss Cone essayed a caper for Mark's benefit. + +"Such grace, Tabby----" + +"Is worth coming from Russia to see. I'm practising; there's to be great +doings here before long. What would you say to a wedding?" + +"Let me salute the bride?" he said, with an attempt at gaiety which, to +himself, seemed rather sickly, and suiting his action to the word. + +"Well!" ejaculated Miss Cone, adjusting her cap, "many a man's had his +ears boxed for that. However, I suppose it's in the air around here--but +you're mistaken. I'm not the bride." + +"Surely, not Aunt Achsah?" + +"As if you couldn't guess! But don't say I told you. The fact is I'm so +full of it I blabbed without thinking." + +"Then it's a secret?" + +"It won't be after to-day. Leonard told us last night. I suppose your +aunt'll tell your ma to-day." + +Mark promised to say nothing and went toward the house. Miss Claghorn +welcomed him cordially, but made no reference to the subject of +Tabitha's disclosures, though traces of her agreeable agitation were +visible. "There's Natalie, now!" she exclaimed after some minutes had +been spent in conversation sufficiently dreary to one of the two. + +The thundering of a horse's hoofs told of a wild gallop. The old lady +rushed from the house, followed by Mark, dismayed by her action and the +alarm expressed in her countenance. He reached the gate in time to +assist Natalie to dismount. + +"My dear child!" exclaimed the elder lady reproachfully. + +She was grasping Mark's hands in welcome. Her face was flushed; her dark +hair, disturbed by the pace at which she had ridden, hung low upon her +forehead; he had never seen her so beautiful--nor so happy. His face was +pale, his hands cold in hers. + +"Dear Aunt," she said, "I felt as though I must gallop; I didn't mean to +in the High Street; I couldn't hold him." + +"He was homeward bound," said Mark, turning to look at the horse, now +being led away by Miss Achsah's "man." "He's a handsome beast." + +"I have much to ask you about the Marquise," said Natalie to Mark, as +they went into the house, whereupon Miss Claghorn left them. + +The short-lived bloom of her face was gone; she was deadly pale. She +stretched her ungloved hands toward him; it might have been a gesture +of appeal. He dared not take them in his own; his longing to clasp her +to his heart was too great to risk the contact. She dropped her arms. + +"You wished to see me--to ask me----" He paused; his voice sounded stern +in his ears, but he had no power over it. + +"To--to say something. Give me a moment." + +As she turned toward the window he caught a glimpse of the sheen of +tears. A mighty impulse raised his arms as though to clasp her; then +they fell. + + "What fates impose, that man must need abide." + +She turned toward him. "I thought there was much to say. There +is--nothing." + +"Nothing for you; for me, something. It is to wish you all happiness, to +assure you of my constant--friendship." + +"And that is needless. We shall always be friends, warm friends, Mark. +Let it be so. And--there is something more. I should not have written as +I did of Paula; I had no right. But--since I am your friend, and you are +mine----" + +"We shall be. Even so, give me a little time." + +His words were accompanied by a sardonic smile. The words and the smile +silenced her. There was a pause. + +"Has the Marquise forgiven me?" she asked at length. + +"She will in time. By the way, I saw Adolphe. I hope he did not +persecute----" + +"No, no. He left that to his mama," she answered, laughing. "To Adolphe, +as a cousin, I had no objection; but----" + +"You have chosen more wisely," he said gravely. "I wish you happiness, +Natalie." He held out his hand; she took it, her own trembling. "God +bless you, Cousin." His lips brushed her cold cheek, then he was gone. + +She watched him from the window; her face was very white, her hands +tightly clenched. So she stood until he had passed from view, then she +went upstairs. In the hall she passed Tabitha, who exclaimed: "You +scared us all--yourself, too. You look like a ghost." + +"Scared?" questioned Natalie. + +"Riding like that." + +"Like that! I wished the horse had wings." + +"You'll have 'em if you don't take care, then----" + +"Then I'll fly away." The intensity of her utterance made Tabitha stare. +Natalie laughed aloud, and left her still staring. + +Alone in her room, she paced slowly back and forth, struggling with her +pride, crushing a forbidden and rejected love. So she regarded it. With +a wrung heart, Mark had respected her decision, and in the depths of her +soul she blamed him, scorning the puny passion so easily beaten. "Go to +Paula," she had written, while "Come to me," her heart had cried so +loudly that, except he were deaf, he might have heard. + +When she had written her letter to Mark she had accomplished a bitter +task only after a long and desperate struggle. She loved Leonard; she +had said this to herself over and over again, and it was true; and to +him she had given her troth freely, fully believing that for him there +would be happiness and for her content. But the lowest depths of her +soul had been stirred by the letter from Mark. There were chambers there +that Leonard had not entered, could never enter, and into which she +herself dared not look. + +Self-sacrifice is to women alluring. That which she had made had been +made, at least she so believed, with honest intention, yet, since now it +was irrevocable, it was too hideous to contemplate. She would call him +back, and on her knees---- + +Shameful thought! She was betrothed to a man she loved. Had she not +admitted it? Not to him only, but shyly this very morning to the fond +old woman to whom she owed so much, whose last days by that very +admission were brightened by a glorious sunshine never before known in a +long and gloomy life. Could she now, even if in her own eyes she could +fall so low--could she fall so low in the eyes of these women by whom +she was surrounded? In her aunt's eyes and Tabitha's? In Paula's, to +whom, in loving loyalty, she had herself confided the secret? In those +of Mrs. Joe, who had so carefully warned her from this preserve? No--to +that depth she could not descend, not even to bask in the cold and +passionless love of Mark. + +The engagement was received with universal favor. It could hardly be +otherwise, since all peculiarly interested were of that sex which dearly +loves to contemplate a captive man, the only male (Leonard, of course, +excepted) being Mark, whose attitude, being unsuspected, was ignored. +And the bridegroom was the hero of all these women: the heir of Miss +Claghorn; the one of the family to whom Tabitha was willing to ascribe +all the virtues; regarded with affectionate esteem by Mrs. Joe, and, as +to all except his denominational qualities, worshipped by Paula. As to +the question of yoking believer and unbeliever, it had certainly +occurred to all the devotees of the young theologian, but, aside from +the certainty that truth must find its triumph in the union, the more +pressing question of clothes for the approaching wedding left but little +room in pious but feminine minds for other considerations. Events had so +fallen in with Leonard's wishes that an early marriage was deemed +advisable in Natalie's interest. Mr. Ellis Winter had encountered +difficulty with regard to certain property in France belonging to her, +and her presence in Paris was essential; and it was no less desirable +that while there she be under the protection of a husband. For, aside +from other considerations, marriage was the easiest solution of the +complications which had arisen out of the guardianship of the Marquise, +which guardianship would legally terminate with Natalie's marriage. And +these things opened the way for Mark's return to Stormpoint. + +"Urgent business" in San Francisco had precluded his attendance at the +wedding. He wrote Leonard a cordial letter, and he sent to Natalie a +ruby set in small diamonds, which, Tabitha Cone confidentially imparted +to Miss Claghorn, was "mean for a billionaire," and which, even in the +eyes of the latter lady, with whom the donor was a favorite, looked +paltry. Both would have been surprised and even indignant at the man's +folly, if they had known that he had bid against a crowned head to get +the gem, employing a special agent, furnished with _carte blanche_ for +the purpose. Natalie knew better than they, but it was not of its purity +or value that she thought, as she looked at the jewel long and +steadfastly, until a mist of tears suddenly obscured her vision and +struck terror to her soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +MAN WALKETH IN A VAIN SHADOW. + + +Soon after the departure for France of the newly married pair Mark +returned from San Francisco. During his absence Mrs. Joe had not failed +to call Mr. Hacket in consultation, and the adviser had reiterated the +old counsel that the first step in a political career was "to get around +and get acquainted." In order to induce her son to continue this +preliminary course it became necessary to disclose her "policy." + +Mark, though somewhat languid in the matter, displayed no violent +reluctance to becoming a statesman. "As to the Presidency," he observed, +laughing at his mother's lofty ambition, frankly disclosed, "that is the +heaven of the politician, to be attained only by the elect." + +"Nothing's impossible, Mark." + +"There's a constitutional provision which will prevent my going in for +it for some years. Meanwhile, we can investigate and learn how +Presidents start. One ended as Justice of the Peace; I might try that as +a beginning." + +"A Justice of the Peace!" + +"Why so scornful? It's aiming high. The usual course is to begin by +carrying a banner and shouting." + +"Mark, I've set my heart on this." + +"My dear mother, blessed is the man or woman that has the wisdom to +avoid that error." + +"My son," said the lady reproachfully, "you seem without interest in +anything." + +"I am older, hence less enthusiastic, than you," he answered, smiling, +and really believing, perhaps rightly, that, notwithstanding their +relation, he felt older than she; "but advise me what to do, and I will +do it. I am not unwilling to be a statesman, only----" + +"I have told you----" + +"To get about and get acquainted. Good! I'll start at once and collar +the first voter I meet and demand his friendship." So, laughing, he left +her, and within an hour Mrs. Joe saw him ride forth from the gates of +Stormpoint. + +During his long ride he admitted the reasonableness of his mother's +ambition. Aside from the obstacle of great wealth, he was as eligible as +another for usefulness and such laurels as come to those who honorably +pursue a political career. He might smile at his mother's lofty dreams, +yet they were not impossible of attainment; whereas, his own, in so far +as they offered any allurement, were both unworthy and impossible. "A +man should do something better than bewail his fate," he muttered; +"since I cannot love elsewhere I'll be a lover of my country." + +Greatly to Mrs. Joe's satisfaction, he thenceforward diligently pursued +the preliminary requisite of getting around, in so far as that could be +accomplished by long, solitary rides throughout the region. He seldom +appeared at dinner without a gratifying account of the acquisition of a +new rustic acquaintance, while meantime, the lady of Stormpoint saw to +it that he did not remain unknown to such Hampton magnates as she could +induce to grace her dinner table, displaying, in the matter of +hospitality, a catholicity which surprised Paula and amused Mark, who, +however, was quite willing to be amused. + +Philosophers who have made the passion of love a subject of +investigation (and most philosophers have given some attention to this +branch of learning) have noticed that the violent death of an old love +is often quickly followed by the birth of a new one. A jilted man or +woman is Cupid's easiest prey. + +Mrs. Joe may, or may not, have been aware of the truth of the above +axiom, or its fitness in the case before her; but, having been fairly +successful in interesting Mark in one object of her "policy," she +resolved at this time to venture further and urge upon his attention the +claims of Paula to his love; and, to her great delight, she found him +not inattentive to the suggestion. He told his mother, truly enough, +that he had a sincere affection for Paula, and admitted that she was, as +far as was compatible with humanity, faultless; for it could hardly be a +fault in Paula that he could feel no throb in his pulse, or glow in his +bosom, when he recalled her to memory. + +"You forget," he said, "that while I might find it easy to love her" +(which he did not believe), "she might not find it easy to love me." + +"You need have no fear." She was about to add that Paula would love +anybody that loved her, but remembered in time that this might not be +regarded as a recommendation. "She is the best creature I ever +knew--almost perfect." + +"I believe she is," he assented with a sigh, which was a tribute to +Paula's perfection. "I fear she is too good for me." + +"That's a strange objection." + +"I am not so sure," he replied, as he lit a cigar, preparatory to +leaving the room. But when he was gone, Mrs. Joe felt that he would +consider the matter, and was content. + +Unconsciously to herself, and, perhaps, without the knowledge of those +by whom she was surrounded, Paula was somewhat harshly treated by +nature; and that, notwithstanding her beauty. She was the embodiment of +purity, of affection, of all the sweeter virtues, hence, regarded as +wanting in those weaknesses which are essential to the symmetry of +strength; one who lacks the everyday vices of temper, of selfishness, of +jealousy, is, in some degree, abhorrent to our sense of the fitness of +things. It is not that we envy the possessor of all the virtues--on the +contrary, total absence of vice awakens something akin to contempt--but +we are impatient of a non-combative disposition. The ideal Christian, +offering the unsmitten cheek, presents a spectacle which, on Sundays, we +characterize as sublime; the actual Christian, making such a tender, is, +on any day, an object of scorn. Even of Paula, they who knew her would +have admitted that it was possible to rouse her to resentment, possibly +to a deed of vengeance, just as the worm may be made to turn; but, then, +humanity refuses to admire worms in any attitude. + +As Mark prosecuted the study of Paula, it gradually dawned upon him +that it was interesting. From wondering whether there could be "much in +her," he attained the conviction that, whether much or little, what +there was was beyond his ken. "Paula," he asked one day, "are you as +good as you look?" + +"I don't know how good I look, Mark." + +"Saintlike." + +"Then I am not as good as I look; only I don't think I look as you say." + +"Paula, you are a mystery. That's a great thing to be, is it not?" +(Somehow, he could not help talking to Paula as if she were a child.) +"Explain the mystery." + +"Everybody is a mystery. Explain the mystery." + +"Here is an unexpected depth," he exclaimed, with some surprise. "You +have dared to raise a great question. Let us seek the solution at +Grandfather Eliphalet's tomb." + +The tomb, renovated and neatly railed by that which Miss Claghorn +secretly regarded as the sacrilegious hand of Mrs. Joe, was near the +extremity of the Point. When the weary Eliphalet had been laid there to +rest it had been further inland, but the ever-pounding ocean was +gradually having its way, day by day encroaching upon the domain of the +seemingly indestructible rocks. + +"The time will come," said Mark, as the two leaned upon the railing, +"when the sea will claim old Eliphalet's bones." + +"And the time will come when the sea will give up its dead," said Paula. + +"Perhaps," he answered gloomily; "and to what end? You will answer, in +order that the dead may be judged. I still ask, to what end?" + +"That is the mystery, Mark." + +"Not to be answered at Eliphalet's tomb, or elsewhere. Paula, did you +ever hear of Deacon Bedott?" + +"You know, Mark, there are so many deacons in Hampton----" + +"This one lived in Slabtown, if I remember right. He was a character of +fiction, neither very wise nor very entertaining; yet when Deacon Bedott +lifted up his voice and spake, he formulated one of the Great Truths +that man can know." + +"What did he say?" she asked after a pause. + +"We are all poor critters," was the answer, with a grim laugh. "Paula, I +believe it is the only truth that really does come home to a man." + +"It is from the Bible," she said simply. + +He looked up. "Do you mean to assert that the Deacon was merely quoting? +Are you going to destroy my faith in a pet philosopher; he who said all +that Plato said, or Socrates, or Seneca--or anybody?" + +"For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain," she +answered in a low tone. + +There was silence for a moment; at length Mark said: "It seems that the +Deacon was, after all, a plagiarist." + +"I think that perhaps philosophers have discovered few truths concerning +man that they might not have found in the Bible, and with less labor." + +"Paula, do you believe the Bible?" + +"Why, Mark! It is God's word." + +"And these," he said, pointing to the trees, the crags, the sea; "are +these God's word?" + +"They are His creation; in that sense His word." + +"And you and I, and these bones, crumbling a few feet below--these are +all His creation, and so His word--and we know not what they say." + +She looked at him surprised. She had often sorrowed that these things +did not engage his attention; she was surprised to note his earnestness. + +"Paula," he said, "do you know what you were made for?" + +"Made for?" + +"Leonard would tell you, 'to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever,'" he +said, "but he would also inform you that the chance of the purpose of +your creation coming to pass is slim." + +"You know I do not subscribe to Leonard's creed," she replied a little +severely. + +"The thirty-nine articles, though less explicit, imply that which +Leonard's creed has the boldness to state. Yes, Paula, that is the great +and glorious Hope offered by the Church--damnation for the great +majority." + +"Mark, I do not think I ought to discuss these questions." + +"You mean with a scoffer," he said a little bitterly. + +"I hope you are not a scoffer. I cannot judge." + +"And you decline to find out. Suppose I tell you in all honesty that I +want to know the reasons for the faith that is in you. That I want to +know them, so that I may try honestly to adopt them, if I find it +possible--I don't say easy, Paula, I say possible. Suppose I assure you +of this, as I do, will you aid me to be what you think I ought to be?" + +"Mark," she answered, "I am not competent. Such a one as you should not +come to such as I." + +"Surely you have a reason for your belief! Is it not possible to put it +into words?" + +"Oh, Mark!" She turned and looked upon him; her eyes were brimming with +tears; she placed her hand upon his arm. "I can help you; I will help +you. I can direct you to one who can solve your doubts, who can make the +truth so plain that you must see----" + +"And this One is?' he asked reverently. + +"Father Cameril." + +He burst into a loud laugh which shocked and grieved her. She left him +and went toward the house; he remained gazing at the tomb. + +And there, if he had really contemplated seeking Paula's love, he buried +the intention with Old Eliphalet. "If your eternal welfare is to your +wife a matter to be handed over to her priest, your temporal felicity +will hardly be of moment to her," he thought, as he looked at the smoke +of his cigar hanging blue in the summer air. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A PARSON TREADS THE PRIMROSE PATH IN PARIS. + + +"Bel homme!" exclaimed the Marquise de Fleury admiringly. + +"_Belle femme!_" echoed the hussar sadly. + +"Be everything that is charming, Adolphe, I conjure you. So much depends +upon Natalie's disposition." + +From which brief conversation, which took place as the speakers left the +hotel where the Leonard Claghorns were established, it may be correctly +inferred that a friendly reception had been accorded the newly married +pair by the French relatives of the bride. The noble lady, doubtless, +felt all the affection for her former ward that she had, during the +visit, so eloquently expressed, so that inclination prescribed the same +course that policy would have indicated. The Marquise was still the +custodian of property belonging to Natalie, and settlement of accounts +could be much better adjusted in a spirit of indulgent friendship than +in the cold and calculating spirit of business; and though Natalie and +her dowry were gone forever, in that distant land whence she had +returned with a husband, there were golden maids languishing for +Marquises. "These Yankees," she observed to her son, "they sell their +souls for money--the men; the women sell their bodies, and such soul as +goes with them, for titles. Are you not a Marquis, of the _ancien +regime_? It behooves us, my child, to be gracious to this wedded priest; +he may know of a _partie_." + +"I am so, mama. _Du reste_, he is _beau garcon_, and seems amiable and +amusing." + +"Cultivate him, my infant; a voyage to America may be your destiny. It +is a rich family--fabulous. There may be maids in plenty among these +Claghorns." + +The two young men, except for the pacific disposition of their +womankind, might have been inclined to regard one another askance. For, +in the person of the possessor of Natalie and her dowry the brave hussar +saw one who however innocently, was still the ravisher of his rights; +while in this being, in all the glory of fur and feather, sabretache and +jangling sword, boots and buttons, braid and golden stripes, with a +pervading tone of red and blue, Leonard beheld a startling and, at +first, unpleasing creation. But the lieutenant, admonished by his mama, +and sensible of the interests at stake, and genial by nature, thawed +almost immediately, and the boulevardier and the theologian were +friends. + +To the young Frenchman a Protestant theologian was a philosopher, rather +than a priest under vows, hence a person of liberal views and probably +of lax conduct. As toward a newly married man, and warned incessantly by +the Marquise, he recognized that etiquette required that from him no +invitation to dissipation should emanate, but that his attitude ought to +be that of willingness to pilot the stranger whithersoever he might wish +to go; occasionally pointing out that paths of pleasantness were open to +such as might choose to wander in them. And though Leonard displayed no +undue disposition to such wanderings, an intimacy resulted which was not +in fact, though seemingly, incongruous. + +"What is he like, this beautiful heretic?" asked the Marquise. + +"Like a Greek god, as you see, mama." + +"But otherwise; he is a priest, you know?" + +"And, like other priests, with an eye for a pretty woman." + +"But discreet, Adolphe? I hope he is discreet." + +"As St. Anthony! Natalie may be easy." + +"Be you equally discreet, my child. She has been most generous; and, +remember, Adolphe----" + +"Yes, mama. What am I to remember?" + +"That when a woman marries a man for his beauty, it is not love; it is +infatuation. Do not permit this Leonarr to go astray; he has +proclivities." + +The little hussar laughed. "You are sharp-eyed, mamma." + +"Had you watched him before the painting of Eve--but enough. Do nothing +to cause disquiet to Natalie." + +The little man, thus admonished, promised to carefully observe her +wishes; the more readily as he was aware how important the friendship of +Natalie was to his mama (in view of the pending adjustment of accounts). +The more he studied Leonard, the more amusing he found him. To "do" +Paris (not, indeed, to the extent of the capacity of that capital) in +company with a priest, was, in itself, a piquant experience. "It is like +demonstrating to your director how easy it is to sin," he declared; "and +_ce bon Leonarr_, he imposes no penance. _Tiens!_ These others, these +Protestants, they have it easy." + +"He does not essay to pervert," observed the Marquise in some alarm. + +"Be not uneasy. Would I be of a religion whose priests marry? Think of +the wife of my confessor knowing all my peccadillos!" + +"Forgive me. My anxiety was but momentary----" + +"Meanwhile, let me help this _pauvre garcon_, whose eyes have, since +infancy, been bandaged, to see a little bit of the world. It is +delightful to note his delight." + +"But with discretion, Adolphe." + +"Do I not assure you he is an anchorite. You have yourself observed that +he drinks no wine." + +"A penance, doubtless. Pere Martin is also abstemious." + +"As to _ordinaire_. In the presence of a flask of Leoville, I have noted +a layman's thirst in _ce bon pere_." + +"Do not ridicule Pere Martin, my infant. _Du reste_, it is not wine that +I fear in the case of this beautiful Leonarr. Continue to be his +guardian angel, my son." + +Under this guardianship Leonard looked at Paris, enjoying his free +sojourn in a great and brilliant city with hearty, but, on the whole, +innocent fervor. The sunny skies, the genial good-humor, the eating and +drinking, the frequent music, the lights, the dapper men, the +bright-eyed women, the universal alertness--these impart a pleasant +tingle to Puritan blood; and, if the novice to these delights be young, +rosy, handsome, of exuberant health, and inclined to the pleasures +befitting such conditions, he finds Paris grateful to the taste. In +this congenial atmosphere Leonard basked in guileless rapture. A drive +in the Bois with Natalie and the Marquise, brilliant equipages dashing +by, brilliant eyes flashing as they passed, was a rare delight; a stroll +on the Boulevard was even more enjoyable, for here were more flashing +eyes and smiling faces, less fleeting, and often coquettishly inviting +an answering glance. Clothed in the results of the meditations of de +Fleury's tailor, it became Leonard's frequent habit to haunt the +Boulevards, indulging in a strut that would have astonished Hampton; and +often was he inclined to envy the Marquis that lot which had made his +abiding place among these joys. It would have been fine to be a soldier, +fine to fight and win glory; to wear boots and spurs and a clanking +sword, and to trail the same along the pavement as one to the manner +born! + +Of course, that was a day-dream, which he laughed at as easily as an +older man might have done, though less scornfully. There was no great +harm in day-dreams, however foolish. This whole existence had the +character of a pleasant dream. Had he not felt it so, he often mentally +averred, he would have accepted it more gravely. + +"But it will soon be over," he said to Natalie. "It is my first holiday +since I was a boy." + +"Enjoy it all you can. I am glad that Adolphe has been able to make your +stay pleasant." + +"Really, a very amiable little fellow. French, you know, and rather lax +in his views, I fear; but----" + +"His views will not harm you," interrupted Natalie, smiling. + +"Certainly not," he replied, a little stiffly. "It would be strange if I +could not take care of myself. Meanwhile, M. de Fleury is really of +great advantage to me in one respect." + +"And that is?" + +"I am improving wonderfully in French. That's a good thing, Natalie, a +very good thing." He was quite solemn on this point. + +"An excellent thing," she replied, somewhat surprised at the gravity +with which he treated a matter of no great importance. "I wish, Leonard, +that my affairs were concluded. I am sure you are being kept here +against your wish." + +"Whatever my wish, your affairs ought to come first. Let us be content +that, if they do drag, I can employ the time in self-improvement." + +Thus, in the praiseworthy pursuit of improvement Leonard spent much of +his time. He was by no means neglectful of his wife, whose attendance, +with the Marquise, was much in demand in official bureaus, and who +encouraged his intimacy with the lieutenant, whom she no longer found +unendurable, and whose amiable and forgiving conduct had won her heart. +"They are not rich, you know," she said. "Entertain the little man all +you can; the Marquise was very kind to me." An injunction which afforded +another reason why it was incumbent on Leonard to procure the Marquis +the distractions that he loved, in so far as purse and principle +permitted, and these were found elastic. + +Because, as he was forced to admit when arguing with the Marquis, a +reasonable elasticity is not only proper, but essential to culture. + +"_Mon bon_," observed the lieutenant, "the view you advance is narrow. +The ballet, as a favorite spectacle of the people, should be studied by +every student of morals. You, as a preacher----" + +Leonard laughed. "I'm not a preacher; I'm an instructor in a college of +divinity." + +"_Eh bien!_ The greater reason. How shall one teach the good, knowing +not the evil? _Du reste_, are they evil, _ces belles jambes_ of Coralie? +They are fine creations, of pure nature; there is no padding." + +"You will be my guest, if we go?" + +"Since you insist; also to a _petit souper, a parti carre_, with Aimee +and Louise. Coralie! _Sapristi_, no! Her maw is insatiable; the little +ones are easily pleased." + +And so Leonard studied unpadded nature, even going alone a second, and +perhaps a third time. As to the _petit souper_, it had been decorous; +and beyond the fact that Mesdemoiselles Aimee and Louise were agreeable +ladies with excellent appetites, his knowledge of these damsels did not +extend. + +Of course, there were pursuits of a different character to engage his +attention, and those which occurred under the guidance of the lieutenant +were exceptional. There were the usual sights to be seen; galleries, +monuments, churches, all to be wondered at, criticised and admired. +Leonard approved generally, though, as to the churches, their tawdry +interiors and the character of their embellishments offended his taste, +as well as his religious sentiments. If, during these distractions, he +was neglectful of the religious instruction which he knew his wife +needed, circumstances were, to some extent, at fault. He could hardly +expound doctrinal truths in a picture gallery, much less in a temple of +Roman error. And, though not without qualms, he admitted to himself that +he had little desire to discuss religion. There was, perhaps, no heinous +sin in looking at the leg-gyrations of Mademoiselle Coralie, nor was +Leonard the first wandering clergyman to embrace an offered opportunity +to study ethics from the standpoint of that rigid moralist, the Marquis +de Fleury; nevertheless, such studies had their effect in cooling +religious fervor, and fervor is essential to him who would expound +truth, with a view to compel conviction. + +Finally, as bearing on this question of the doctrinal instruction of his +wife, he doubted whether it was worth while. Knowledge of doctrine was +no adornment in women; there was Paula, whose pretensions in this regard +constituted almost her only defect. Since Natalie was probably saved, +why trouble himself and her with the exposition of mysteries which she +would be unable to comprehend, and concerning which the injunction was +laid that they be "handled with especial care." If she had heard the +call it would be effectual; if she had not been born to salvation, all +the doctrine which had been taught since the days of the fathers would +not--and here his self-communing stopped. Damnation, though inevitable, +is not an alluring subject of contemplation when it affects one's +family. + +The complications attendant on Natalie's affairs prolonged the stay in +Paris far beyond the period originally contemplated; but French method +on one side of the Atlantic, and Mr. Winter on the other, were finally +satisfied, after much passing to and fro of documents. Everybody +interested was weary, and consular clerks had come to loathe the names +of Natalie, Eugenie, Louise, Susan Beverley de Fleury Claghorn-Claghorn, +_nee_ de Fleury-Claghorn. As Leonard said, to be enabled to give the +Marquise a receipt in full was a harder job than to negotiate a treaty. +But it was done at last; Natalie had been resolute and Mr. Winter had +protested in vain; the Marquise had her discharge and, relieved of many +terrors, was duly grateful. "She has been charming, truly considerate," +she observed to her son. "Alas, Adolphe; it was a great loss." + +"There are others," replied the Marquis philosophically. + +"Heaven send it so. You must no longer delay speaking seriously to this +good Leonarr, who might have influenced his wife to be the ogress +desired by the abominable Winter. Urge him to look out for a _partie_ as +soon as he arrives in America. I will speak to Natalie. I have heard her +mention two demoiselles, Achsah and Tabitha." + +"_Ciel!_ The appellations." + +"But if the bearers are rich?" + +"_Tiens!_ mama. Madame Zho and _la belle_ Paula are in London. I might +try there; it is not so far." + +"But _ce gros_ Marc is with them. Paula is for him, as you know." + +"He does not hurry himself, and truly I believe the little one would not +be averse to me." + +"Better depend upon Monsieur Leonarr." + +And as a result of his mama's advice the lieutenant did, on that +afternoon, broach the matter to Leonard, who, at first mystified, ended +by roaring with laughter when he grasped the fact that the head of the +House of de Fleury was making a provisional proposal for the hand and +fortune of either Mademoiselle Tabitha, or Mademoiselle Achsah, as +Leonard might advise. + +"_Diable!_" exclaimed the gallant youth, when Leonard had explained the +cause of his hilarity, "over seventy and rich! What a country where such +opportunities are neglected! Decidedly I must make the voyage." + +Leonard made no reply; the suggested picture of the noble Marquis as +his guest in Hampton was not precisely alluring. + +"And so there is not a single demoiselle among the Claghorns that +desires a title?" + +"Not one." + +"Alas!" sighed the Marquis. "I was too magnanimous. You know _la belle_ +Paula, of course. Listen, _mon ami_, but let your lips be sealed. _Elle +etait folle de moi!_" + +"Paula! Crazy for you! You flatter----" + +"_Parole d'honneur._ It was in her eyes, in the plaintive cadence of her +tones----" + +"But----" + +"I know--_ce polisson de Marc, toujours Marc_. Ah, the luck of this +Marc! He has a mine of gold; he will have the charming Paula. Only you, +_mon bon_, have beaten him. After all, it is for Marc and me to mingle +our tears." + +"What do you mean by that?" asked Leonard sharply. "Why are you and Mark +to mingle your tears?" + +"For the reason, _mon cher_, that we love to weep," replied the hussar, +with an odd glance at Leonard. "Adieu, I have an appointment," and he +turned abruptly down a side street, leaving Leonard astonished at his +quick retreat. + +"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, after a moment. "It's absurd!" Then he pursued +his way homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +TO HIM I WILL BE HENCEFORTH TRUE IN ALL THINGS. + + +Mrs. Joe and her train were in London, whither Mark had been summoned on +business; and ever since Madame de Fleury had become aware of the fact +she had urged the party to visit Paris. The Marquise, notwithstanding +her sex, was not devoid of curiosity, and, aside from other advantages +which might accrue to her from the presence of the lady of Stormpoint, +she was anxious that a puzzle which had not a little mystified her be +elucidated. When Mark had visited her after his chance meeting with +Adolphe in the cafe, she had divined his feeling with regard to Natalie, +and had at once jumped to the conclusion that it explained the flight of +her ward. She recalled the intimacy which had existed between the +cousins during the lifetime of the philosopher, an intimacy which she +had gravely disapproved, and concerning which she had more than once +remonstrated. She remembered, too, with vexation and a sense of injury, +that the philosopher had soothed her solicitude for the interests of her +son, by pleading the cousinly customs of Mark's country, as well as by +pointing out the benefit which might accrue to her son by an increased +dowry for his own daughter. Now all these hopes and rosy possibilities +were extinguished; Natalie had appeared on the scene with a husband who +was not Mark, and Mark and Paula were still unwed. These were all +puzzling facts out of which there might be gathered some advantage for +Adolphe. She had concealed from him the hopes which sometimes rose +within her in contemplating the present state of affairs; but she was +very anxious to know what that state portended. She had tried in vain to +extract information from Natalie, and as to Leonard, the matter required +delicate handling. Such inquiries as she had addressed to him had been +of necessity vague, and from his answers she had derived no +satisfaction. He had sometimes idly wondered what the lady was after, +but until the allusion by the Marquis to a mutual mingling of tears by +Mark and himself, Leonard had barely given the matter a thought. He +understood now what the Marquis had implied, and saw the drift of the +maternal questioning. He was annoyed, but only for a moment; he +dismissed the subject as being of equal importance with the hussar's +idea of Paula's infatuation for himself, concerning which he had no +belief whatever. + +After the lieutenant had left him, Leonard pursued his way homeward, +vaguely oppressed by a sense of gloom which he attributed to the +weather, which had become lowering. He was near the Church of St. Roch +when a shower drove him inside its portals for shelter. + +A few sightseers were wandering about the edifice; an occasional +penitent occupied a chapel with lips close to the grating, on the other +side of which was the ear of the absolver; in the body of the church a +number knelt in prayer. + +He looked at these things with curiosity, not unmingled with scorn. His +attention was attracted by a plainly dressed woman standing in a side +aisle; to his surprise, he recognized his wife. + +She did not see him as he softly approached her. A sunbeam breaking +through the clouds outside shone through a window and lit up her face, +displaying to him a new expression, a look of yearning and of love which +beautified it; a look he had never seen before; he recognized the fact +with a vague sense of pain. + +That which he saw, like that which he felt, was but momentary. She +turned, looking at him at first with an abstracted gaze, then startled, +as though waking from a dream. "Leonard!" she exclaimed in a low voice. +It sounded like fear. + +"Even so, my dear. Why are you here alone?" + +"I--I--don't know. I was tired." + +"Has this spectacle moved you so?" He pointed to the worshippers. + +"No, not that. I wish I were as good as they; I have watched them +often." + +"Often?" he repeated. He was somewhat indignant at that wish, that she, +his wife, were as good as these idolaters; but it was plain that she was +deeply moved by something, and he was very tender. "Do you come here +often?" + +"I have done so, Leonard." There was humility in her tone, there was +confession; had he known it, there was a cry for aid. + +"Natalie," he said, with some reproach for her, and feeling not a little +for himself, "I hope you are not attracted by the glitter of Romanism. +Surely you can pray in your closet!" + +"I do not pray in the churches," she said. "I did not know that my +visits to them would annoy you." + +"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "I can understand that you like to +enjoy the architectural beauties and the solemn influence. But upon me +the crucifixes, the holy water, the vestments--in short, the +frippery--these things have a less agreeable effect. They savor of gross +superstition." + +It was true that she did not pray in the churches. Something restrained +her; perhaps the very memories which had invited her to these wanderings +in dim shadows where so many vain aspirations had been breathed. +Sometimes as she would pass a chapel where knelt a penitent, confessing +to a hidden priest, a strong desire would come upon her to do as the +penitent was doing. Yet why? Even to herself she had not yet admitted +that she had aught to confess. + +They strolled slowly toward their hotel, Leonard silently reproaching +himself that he had not sooner discovered and prevented this habit of +haunting churches, a habit which might lead to lamentable results in one +easily influenced by the external pomp and circumstance of Romanism. + +However, any danger that might exist would soon be passed. Before long +they would be far beyond the subtle influences of priesthood, as well as +other subtle influences which he felt were not altogether healthful. He +sighed, a little regretfully; after all, pleasure was sweet. + +There had been some question whether they should await the possible +arrival of Mrs. Joe. The discussion of this subject had been confined to +himself and the Marquise, Natalie having displayed but a faint interest +in the matter. Only that morning Madame de Fleury had informed him that +the lady of Stormpoint had written to say that she and her party would +come to Paris for a short stay and then accompany the Leonard Claghorns +homeward. He was therefore surprised when Natalie suddenly exclaimed, +"Leonard, let us go home!" + +"Do you mean we should not wait for Mrs. Joe?" he asked. + +"Why should we? She has Paula and the maids." + +"And Mark. He counts for something," suggested Leonard, laughing. + +"Of course; and if we wait for them, the waiting will never end. The +Marquise will do all she can to keep them, and Paris is not so easily +left. I foresee more difficulty in getting away gracefully, should they +arrive while we are here, than if we go at once." + +"We can pass through London and explain," he suggested. + +"Let us go by Havre. I long to get away, and you ought to be home. I +will write to Mrs. Joe. Let us decide now." + +She was strangely insistent, even agitated. He noticed it and assumed +that she was depressed at the thought of leaving that which was her own +country, and longed to get a painful separation over. To him it was a +matter of indifference by what route they traveled, so long as Mrs. +Joe's susceptibilities were not wounded; and Natalie, assuring him that +her written explanation would prevent that misfortune, the matter was +settled. + +He kissed her as they entered their apartment; for a moment she held her +face close to his. + +That night, being alone and prostrate upon the floor of her room, where +she had sunk, humiliated and ashamed, she uttered a vow to heaven: + +"To him I will be henceforth true in all things; in thought as in deed. +Help me, heaven, to atone, by surrendering to him and in his service +every act and every thought." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +MRS. JOE ON CLERICAL BUMPTIOUSNESS AND MRS. FENTON'S SHOULDERS. + + +The family of Stormpoint remained abroad until long after Leonard and +his wife were established in the old Morley mansion in Hampton, finally +returning to America without Mark, who remained in England, ostensibly +on business connected with the Great Serpent. He had done nothing to +advance his mother's wishes with regard to Paula, assuming that the lady +had by this time recognized the futility of her hopes, and like the wise +woman he knew her to be, had become reconciled to the inevitable. She +was even wiser than he knew, and a part of her wisdom was to trust to +the future. She would admit defeat when she found herself defeated, +meanwhile acquiescing to all seeming in things as they were, placidly +listening to Paula's confidences as to that celibate sisterhood which +the damsel hoped some day to found, but which, as Mrs. Joe said to +herself, was not founded yet. + +Mark had extracted a promise both from his mother and from Paula that +their letters should contain "all the news of all the Claghorns," +meaning perhaps Mrs. Leonard Claghorn; and when the first letter came +from his mother he opened it eagerly and read: first a great deal of +political advice (at second hand from Mr. Hacket), and toward the end of +the epistle, matter of greater interest. + +"As to Leonard" (wrote the lady), "I fear marriage has not improved him. +Natalie makes the mistake of coddling him too much. Her notion of wifely +duty is extravagant. In their house a thousand things are done for +Leonard's comfort, all thought of by his wife, and her eyes follow him +about as though she were constantly on the watch to anticipate his +wants. She is very quiet in manner and seems rather to wish to echo +Leonard's opinions than to have opinions of her own; all of which has +other than a pleasing effect on Leonard. I suppose, too, that he has +arrived at an age (somewhat late in his case) in which the fact of his +own manliness is the most important fact of existence. He has not been +improved by contact with quite another world than that of Hampton, the +world of Adolphe de Fleury, in which he seems to have mingled rather +surprisingly. One would hardly recommend the allurements of Paris in +such companionship to a young theologian. You know the angels in +Paradise fell, though I do not mean to imply that Paris is paradise, or +Leonard an angel, fallen or otherwise; but his engaging innocence is +gone; perhaps it was inevitable. I am sorry to see in its place an undue +amount of the bumptiousness often affected by members of his profession. +It is quite distressing to think that he should degenerate, he who was +so beautiful to look at, so gentle, yet so strong--in short, so +naturally refined--a word, by the way, which I dislike, but it expresses +the idea. He is not so refined as he was; he is less pleasing to the +eye, there is a shadow of something in his face which I do not like--and +I do _not_ like the way with which he looks at Paula. + +"There, Mark, I have been long in coming to it--but you are not to +misunderstand me. I don't believe Leonard has a thought which could be +regarded as injurious to Natalie, but I don't think he regards feminine +beauty with the eyes one likes to see. I gave a little dinner a few +evenings since; only the Stanleys, the Fentons, Father Cameril and the +Leonard Claghorns. You remember Mrs. Fenton's style; her shoulders (very +beautiful they are--I say shoulders) too much in evidence for my taste. +Leonard hardly took his eyes off of them. Father Cameril, on the +contrary, hardly knew what to do with his to avoid seeing them, and I +don't know which of the pair made me most angry. I remember when Leonard +would have been oblivious of shoulders. + +"He is rather truculent, too, is Mr. Leonard, and fell foul of poor +Father Cameril in a manner which roused even Paula, on the subject of +the Apostolic Succession--in short, I never saw him at such a +disadvantage, and I'm afraid my indignation has carried my pen away. + +"Natalie is lovely. A little sad at times. She confided to me a secret +which no doubt accounts for her rather noticeable pensiveness. There +will be a baby in the old Morley house before the year is out." + +Mark pondered over his mother's letter often, and with more misgiving +than behooved a man interested in his neighbor only in ordinary +neighborly fashion. He did full justice to his mother's shrewd +observation, and believed that her letter was intended to convey more +than appeared on the surface, and his self-communings in reference +thereto were not cheerful. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +INTRODUCES DR. STANLEY, SATAN AND THE PRAYER MEETING OF MATRONS. + + +Mrs. Leonard Claghorn had been graciously received by the matrons of +Hampton. She was so interesting (they said), so foreign; and careful +cross-examination of those who had penetrated into the inner sanctuaries +of the Morley mansion had established the fact that there was not a +crucifix in the house. On the whole, the matrons were content. Surely, +the wife of a young professor, so thoroughly grounded in the faith as +was Leonard--though his prominence in the Seminary, in view of his +youth, might be deprecated by some--such a one could not remain +heretical, even if her religious education had been defective. How +awfully defective these excellent ladies did not know. + +On her part, Natalie had been no less gracious. "She'll be one of them +in a year," said Mrs. Joe, alluding to the matrons. "She'll be whatever +Leonard says." + +"I wish Father Cameril could talk with her," sighed Paula. + +"He lost his chance when he contradicted Leonard at my dinner." + +"She certainly is very loyal to her husband," admitted Paula. + +"Altogether too subservient," observed Mrs. Joe testily. "No woman +should permit her whole nature to be absorbed in that manner. No wonder +he's bumptious." + +"Bumptious!" + +"Conceited. Pliancy, Paula, is a virtue in a wife. I was pliant myself; +still the most devoted of wives ought to have an opinion of her own." + +"Natalie is so sweet," urged the extenuating Paula. + +"Sweet! So are you; so was I; so was Tabitha Cone to the man that gave +her that monstrous watch--but sweetness may be sickening." + +"Oh, Cousin Alice!" + +"It irritates me, because it's not Natalie's true character. She had a +mind of her own once, and a good one. Actually, she's superior to +Leonard----" + +"He's a very brilliant man, Cousin." + +"To look at, and glib; but inferior to his wife. Men generally are. Yet +she effaces herself. She overdoes her loyalty. She is playing a part!" + +"Cousin Alice!" remonstrated Paula. + +"I don't mean she's consciously a hypocrite, and you needn't flare. +She's imbibed some absurd notions of wifely duty, and is trying to carry +them out." + +An impression made upon an observer as keen as Mrs. Joe must have a +foundation. In her irritation the lady had expressed the truth. Natalie +was playing a part. + +Since the day in St. Roch when she, recalling a day long past, had lost +herself in a dream of what might have been--since then she had been +playing a part, the part of a penitent; the role she had assumed when +later, in humiliation and conscience-stricken, she had prostrated +herself before heaven, vowing the only atonement possible. + +She had seen the beginning of that change in Leonard which remained a +cause of irritation to Mrs. Joe; nor had she been ignorant of the +influences to which it was in part to be ascribed; but her conscience +had whispered that in very truth the effect of those influences was to +be attributed to herself. In her marriage an essential element had been +absent, and was wanting still. To complete that holy mystery and adorn +it with its rarer graces, to tinge its atmosphere with consecrated +incense, there must be spiritual union. If Leonard had not learned of +nobler joys than the lesser gratification that engaged his thoughts, was +it not because such joys had not been offered? + +To those religious teachings which had been deferred she now looked +forward as to the means whereby both could attain to that higher union +which she craved, and which when attained would surely soothe her +troubled spirit and aid in that atonement prescribed by her conscience +and which she had vowed, and of which the subservience disapproved by +Mrs. Joe was a minor manifestation. So, though timidly, for his +reluctance (so strange to her) was apparent, she sought to bring Leonard +to discussion of religious subjects. + +"Was Jonathan Edwards a great man?" she asked one day, and then +regretted her question, for at that passage of arms which had occurred +at Mrs. Joe's table, Father Cameril had mentioned the name, a fact +forgotten until it was recalled to her memory by the lowering brow of +Leonard. + +"A great man, indeed!" he answered; "an apostle of truth. Chattering +imbeciles like Father Cameril may tell you differently." + +"I was not thinking of Father Cameril. I read the title of your article, +'Jonathan Edwards, a Man Athirst for God.'" + +"So he was; and one who slaked his thirst at the well of knowledge. A +great and good man, Natalie, though shallow reasoners are glad to deny +the merit of the greatest of metaphysicians. The truth is they're afraid +of him." + +"Why afraid?" + +"Because his logic is inexorable, the unassailable truth he utters not +lovely to all hearers. Edwards declines to abate one jot or tittle of +God's message. It has become the fashion even among men of greater +intellect than Mr. Cameril has been endowed with to avoid Edwards, +but----" + +"I should think all would crave the truth. I would like to read him." + +"Not now," he said, kissing her. "Dr. Stanley advises steering clear of +Edwards," he continued, laughing, "though not for the usual reasons. You +must follow the fashion for awhile, Natalie." + +He knew that public opinion would expect, and in time demand, his wife's +union with the church. Had she been trained from childhood in orthodox +tenets her preparedness for the sacrament would have been presumed, and, +at some convenient season, when souls are garnered as crops are +garnered, it being assumed that they ripen like the fruits of the +earth, she would have been duly gathered to the fold with those other +members of the congregation whose time for experiencing religion had +come. But there was no presumption of early instruction in Natalie's +case. + +He would have been better pleased if his position had not required +deference to that opinion which would demand Natalie's entrance into the +doctrinal fold. If she were chosen for salvation, what difference could +it make whether she was instructed as to the Confession or not? Where +were the women that were so instructed? Nowhere. They had some phrases +and some faint recollection of Sabbath-school lessons, but as to any +real knowledge of the mysteries they professed, he knew that the laymen +of his denomination were in general as ignorant as those puppets of the +Romish priesthood who left such matters to their betters. And secretly +he regarded this as the correct system. He was not sorry that he had a +valid excuse for avoiding domestic theological discussion in the dictum +of Dr. Stanley. + +The doctor, who had been present on the occasion when Leonard had fallen +foul of Father Cameril, and who had been amused at the husband's +truculence, had also noted the anxious look of the wife. He had known +Leonard almost since boyhood and liked him; he was, for reasons of his +own, especially interested in Leonard's wife. + +Doctor Stanley's position in Hampton was not unlike that of Satan in the +world. He was endured of necessity and his services called in +requisition, because in certain straits there was no getting along +without him. "The parsons don't want to go to heaven," he would say, +"any more than the rest of us, so when they're sick they call me in, and +when they're well they smile on me; but, if I weren't a doctor, Hampton +would be too hot to hold me." All of which, if true, was because Dr. +Stanley was troubled with a theological itch of his own, and, though +calling God the "Unknowable," claimed knowledge with as much confidence +as his orthodox rivals, and with equal truculence. He was at some +disadvantage in his public onslaughts on Hamptonian strongholds, since +his followers were few; but at occasional lectures, the meagre proceeds +whereof went to sustain a Mechanics' Library, founded by the doctor for +the behoof of philosophical plumbers and carpenters, he sometimes +charged upon the foe with great gallantry, if but little effect. In his +private capacity he was genial, amiable and good-hearted, and, if hated +as an infidel, was loved as a man. As a physician, the general faith in +his skill was nearly unbounded. + +His wife, who laughed at him and loved him, was that Lettie Stanley of +whose ultimate salvation Miss Claghorn had grave doubt. She was, if +unhappily "passed by," still of the elect race, and Miss Achsah, on the +occasion of her union with the doctor, had expressed the opinion that +the Reverend Josias Claghorn, father of the unfortunate, had celebrated +the nuptials by turning in his grave. It was not known that she was, +like her husband, an absolute unbeliever, since she sometimes appeared +at public worship, and there were among the ladies of Hampton one or two +who maintained that she was a pious woman. However, it was certain that +she was heterodox, a grievous circumstance which gave great and just +cause of offense to these descendants of the original seekers after +liberty of conscience. She was active in charitable work, and though +admitted to the Shakespeare Society, was not a member of any of the +distinctly denominational organizations. She had been invited to the +"Thursday Prayer Meeting of Matrons," and had declined, flippantly, the +matrons proclaimed, and on the ground that though she was willing to be +prayed for, she did not wish to be prayed at. For the rest, she was a +handsome woman of middle age, with large, tender eyes and a cheery +disposition, tinged with a certain melancholy, which some called +cynicism. + +This lady had also noted with disapproval Leonard's manner on the +occasion of Mrs. Joe's dinner. "He's getting spoiled," she had observed +to her husband, as they left the hospitable mansion. + +"Theological manner," replied the doctor. "They can't help it. Cameril +would have been as bad, if he dared. What do you think of Leonard's +wife?" + +"A beautiful woman, who adores her husband. I wonder why her eyes are +sad?" + +"Her eyes are like yours." + +"Pshaw, Doctor; I'm an old woman----" + +"That's nonsense. She not only resembles you as to eyes, but in +disposition." + +"Of course you know all about her disposition." + +"It's my business to know. Mrs. Leonard's my patient, and her +idiosyncrasies----" + +"Are doubtless interesting, as pertaining to a handsome woman; but how +do they resemble mine?" + +"She's a religious enthusiast." + +"Well!" ejaculated the lady; "after years of observation that is your +wise conclusion. I won't say tell that to the marines, which would be +undignified, but tell it to the Hampton matrons." + +"The matrons of Hampton know nothing of religion; they're theologians." + +The lady laughed. "If she is really like I was at her age, I am sorry +for her. Had I married a man like Leonard----" + +"My dear, with your excellent taste you did much better; but I thought +Leonard was a favorite of yours." + +"I like him, but I detest his creed." + +"You don't suppose he believes it?" + +"He says he does, which is of more consequence." + +"How can any human being believe the Westminster Confession?" + +"I don't suppose any human being does. It's a question of obstinacy, +pride; a question of being caught in a trap." + +The doctor laughed. + +"You, my dear," continued the lady, "lack religious sentiment. You don't +care. _I_ cannot help being indignant when I see religion desecrated by +religionists. It may be from the same feeling that I am sorry for a +woman who adores her husband, and who must eventually find him out." + +"Find him out! My dear----" + +"I mean find out that he's not all that she has pictured. Leonard is a +very ordinary mortal." + +"But, on the whole, a very good fellow." + +"Undoubtedly, but--a theologian of Hampton. I don't think you +appreciate all that that may chance to mean to a woman you are pleased +to call a religious enthusiast--meaning, I suppose, a woman who really +craves religion." + +"You must not take a word too seriously. The fact is that Mrs. Leonard +has what may be termed an exalted temperament. One day I found her in +tears and with traces of great agitation. She had been reading a book of +ecstatic character. I hinted to Leonard that just now that sort of thing +wouldn't do----" + +"You were quite right. I remember that I suffered----" + +"I don't mean to say that the lady had been suffering; on the contrary, +I think she'd been having a good time. The book, by the way, was the +life of some Roman saint--but good times of that sort are not to be +indulged in by a lady about to have a baby." + +"What did Leonard say?" + +"Oh, he was amenable--more so than I expected. Of course, I said nothing +about the Catholic book. Leonard is like prospective fathers, easily +scared. They are much more tractable than prospective mothers; so I +scared him." + +The more easily that Leonard had been willing to be scared. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE MUSIC OF THE CHORUS OF THE ANGUISH OF THE DAMNED. + + +"Socrates," observed Miss Achsah, "is damned." + +"If _you_ say so, he must be," was the sarcastic rejoinder of Tabitha +Cone. + +Miss Claghorn, with a stern gaze at her companion, opened Hodge's +Commentary on The Confession of Faith and read: "'The heathen in mass, +with no single, definite and unquestioned example on record, are +evidently strangers to God and going down to death in an unsaved +condition.' That," she said, "settles Socrates." + +It did not settle Tabitha, whose question touched the weak spot in +Hodge's assertion. "Where'd he see the record?" she asked. + +"Tabitha," remonstrated Miss Achsah with evident sincerity, "sometimes I +doubt your election. The audacity of setting up _your_ opinion----" + +Tabitha was human and venerated print. She was a little frightened at +her own temerity, and Miss Claghorn's seriousness did not tend to +reassure her. "There's Brigston," she said weakly. + +"Yes; and there's 'Greenland's Icy Mountains,' and 'India's Coral +Strand,'" answered the lady pertinently, and closing the book and the +discussion. + +But, if closed at the White House, it raged furiously in the theological +world. Until recently the permanent abode of Socrates had been as well +known as that of Satan. No decree, whether of Roman or Protestant Pope, +had been needed to establish a fact settled to the satisfaction of all +(except, perhaps, to that of the Athenian sage) by the Eternal Decree of +Omnipotence. It was reserved for a deluded doctor of the rival Seminary +of Brigston to promulgate doubts of a self-evident truth. Such an +affront to Westminster and the immutable justice of God was not to be +borne in silence by Hampton. + +A storm of unexampled fury burst from theological clouds, and Leonard, +sniffing the odor of battle, joyously saw that his day had dawned. Into +the fray he plunged, a gallant knight armed with the sword of orthodoxy, +battling in the name of God and by the lurid light of hell, in order +that the music of the chorus of the anguish of the damned might still +arise, a dulcet melody, to heaven. + +And while the din of the holy war filled the air, Natalie welcomed a +little babe, the light of whose clear blue eyes melted her soul in +tenderness. To look into their celestial purity was to see heaven's +glory reflected in the azure depths. The deeper springs of tenderness, +closed to the rude touch of Leonard's passion, were opened, and love +undefiled gushed forth in a stream of unspeakable gladness. Her health +remained delicate, and she was long confined to the house, but, aside +from a pleasant languor, being physically at ease, she found in the care +of the infant sufficient occupation. She was glad that she could be much +alone with the boy, and held many and sweet communings with that soul +she had discovered in his eyes. She never wearied of reading the mystery +of those clear depths and, always connecting the child with heaven, in +her simple belief, imagining the newcomer as lately from that blissful +region, she built upon her fancies a system of theology which would have +startled and confounded the Hampton Matrons. And, as before, in sight of +the grandeur of God upon the waters, Leonard's lower self had been +humbled, so now, the beauty of a pure soul, all its glory set forth in +motherhood, chastened his earthly nature, and he bowed with the +reverence of simple souls to saints. + +Leonard's creed was, as is the case with creeds, a matter apart from his +life; wherefore there was nothing strange in the fact that he could +leave the presence of the two pure creatures, and retiring to his study, +damn countless souls to hell in essays of exceeding force and +brilliancy. Young as he was, all Hampton gloried in these labors whereby +Brigston was smitten and abashed. There were champions more learned, +being older; but, being older, their pens were encumbered with caution +and hampered by the knowledge that pitfalls and traps lurk in the dark +thickets of theological controversy. But Leonard had the daring of +youth. Logic was logic, and truth not for a day, but eternal. Truth led +to the Westminster Confession, which damns the great majority, Socrates +included. To quibble with the plain meaning of plain words would be to +follow the heretical Brigstonian, to deny the inspiration of Scripture, +to be a traitor to his party and his creed. If the same decree which +damned Socrates consigned the great majority of his own friends and +acquaintances to the same everlasting misery, it couldn't be helped. +And, in fact, there was no reason why Leonard should shrink from that +which thousands of men and women profess to believe, yet marry and bring +forth children doomed, the while eating dinner in content. + +Echoes of the merry war reached Natalie, but her curiosity was but +faintly stirred. She saw that Leonard avoided the topic when alone with +her, and was now content to learn nothing from her husband; seeing in +her child her best teacher in heavenly lore. Her exhibition of maternal +love extorted some disapproving comment; Mrs. Joe called it "uncanny," +Tabitha said she was a queer mother, Miss Claghorn disapprovingly +likened her adoration to Romanism--"Idolatry," she said to Tabitha. + +"Yet," replied Tabitha, "she hardly ever hugs or kisses him. She just +looks at him, and if you catch her at it she passes it off." + +"Just as you or I might if the cook were to come in while we were saying +our prayers." + +"Something 'ill happen to the child," said Tabitha ominously. + +Miss Claghorn did not dispute it; the two were so perfectly in accord as +to their sentiment in this matter that there was no chance for dispute. + +Thus, in a strange, secret relation, mother and child lived more than a +year together, and then Tabitha Cone's oracular prophecy was fulfilled. +Something happened to the child, which something was death; and Natalie +was stricken as by a thunderbolt. + +The most alarming phase of her illness was of short duration; she had +been long unconscious, and during that period they who watched her had +noticed, with something akin to awe, the heavenly peacefulness and sweet +smile of her face. From her mutterings they gathered that she roamed in +celestial regions with her boy. Dr. Stanley was evidently not favorably +impressed with these supposed visions, and as soon as it was feasible +ordered her removal to Stormpoint, where the sun shone brighter than in +the old house, and where there would be fewer reminders of her loss. + +Leonard, who had been severely stricken by the death of the child and +worn with anxiety on his wife's account, acquiesced. The complete change +of scene which the physician desired involved his absence from her side. +"Of course you'll visit her daily, if you choose," said the doctor, "but +if you are constantly together she will inevitably talk of the child and +of heaven, and we must keep her away from heaven." Natalie remonstrated, +but rather feebly. Since the birth of the child Mrs. Joe had seen less +cause to complain of undue absorption in the husband by the wife. Thus, +to keep Natalie from contemplation of heaven, Leonard returned to +contemplation of hell; for the war still raged, though with some +slackness. Leonard girded up his loins and prepared to inject the spirit +which had somewhat diminished during his own absence from the lines of +battle. + +The mistress of Stormpoint watched her new inmate keenly. "It's natural +that she should love her child, even though he's dead," she said to +Paula, "but she talks with him. I heard her." + +"Her faith is perfect," exclaimed Paula with solemn enthusiasm. "She +knows he lives forever." + +"That's all very well; but he don't live at Stormpoint." + +"She feels his presence, though she cannot see him." + +"She says she does. Of course, it's fiddlesticks; but the doctor ought +to know." + +And the doctor, being informed, agreed with Mrs. Joe that conversation +with angels was not to be encouraged. "A very little roast beef and a +great deal of fresh air," was his prescription, "A trip somewhere when +she is stronger. Meanwhile, keep bores away--Father Cameril and +Leonard." + +"I can't lock Leonard out." + +"I wish you could; he has a grievance and may be tempted to unburden his +soul to his wife." + +"I have heard of no grievance." + +"You will; the reaction has come. Yesterday they crowned him with +laurels; to-day they are damning him--of course, in parliamentary +phrase--from the president of the Seminary down to the janitor." + +"Impossible! Why, Doctor, only a few days since Dr. Burley spoke of him +in the highest terms." + +"A few days since! Ask him now. Leonard has played the frog to Burley's +ox. It was right to confute Brigston with Greek texts; they produced a +good deal of fog and little illumination. But Leonard must shove himself +in as interpreter between the heavyweights and the populace. Of course +his action was abhorrent; it is to me. There ought to be an _esprit de +corps_ in all professions. I shouldn't approve if some young medical +spark were to give away _our_ secrets." + +The physician, if flippantly, spoke the truth. Leonard had been rash, as +youth is wont to be. Wise and venerable heads had from the beginning +wagged in disapproval of his excess of zeal. To bury the Brigstonian +deep beneath the fragments of his own exploded logic was well, but it +was also well to be wary, to lay no hasty hand upon and drag forth +mysteries which could not bear the light of day. Leonard was brilliant; +but brilliancy was not caution. Theological argumentation, to be +convincing, must be obscure; mystification, rather than conviction, is +the prop of faith. + +"I'm sorry he's in trouble," observed the lady. + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Inevitable!" he exclaimed. "He's +obstinate and conceited. His last pamphlet, 'Dr. Burley's True Meaning,' +is monstrous. What right had he to give Burley away in that manner? If +Burley had wanted to state his meaning, wouldn't he have done it? +Leonard swallows the whole Westminster Confession at a gulp, and points +out that Hampton and Burley do the same thing. What maladroit +presumption! He ought to know that Hampton only bolts the morsel +because it must. Its contortions during the process of deglutition ought +to be charitably concealed. Who is Leonard that he should tear away the +veil which hides a harrowing spectacle?" + +Which burst of eloquence was not wholly intelligible to the lady, who, +however, saw the need of dragging the doctor down from his hobby. "Well, +he must not discuss these matters with his wife," she said, "if you +disapprove." + +"No. For ladies in the condition of our patient the Westminster +Confession is too lurid. Needless to say to a matron of your experience +that in the case of a bereaved young mother the brain should not be +excited, the affections over-stimulated, the fancy be allowed to rove at +will, either amid the joys of heaven or the horrors of hell." + +Wherefore Paula was instructed to avoid conversation concerning themes +celestial or infernal, and was thus deprived of a pleasure; for there +had been much loving talk between her and Natalie concerning the child, +now abiding in heavenly regions. Perhaps Natalie sorrowed a little, +noting that Paula no longer lingered over the favorite topic; if so, she +made no comment; her thoughts were her own. + +"What is true marriage?" she asked one day. + +"I--I don't know," replied Paula, taken unawares, and not sure whether +this new topic were celestial or infernal. "Celibacy, as the ideal +state----" + +"A wife vows obedience," interrupted Natalie--she had heard Paula before +on celibacy--"that's a small matter. Who wouldn't be obedient?" + +"But, suppose a husband were to require something wrong," suggested +Paula, disturbed by the fleeting vision of a wife of St. Perpetua +deprived of fish on Fridays by a wicked spouse. + +"He wouldn't be a true husband. My ideal of marriage is unity in all +things--tastes, hopes, beliefs----" + +"Belief, of course. And to the realization of that ideal a churchwoman +would lead her husband." + +"Or, if the husband were the better Christian, he would lead his wife." + +After due consideration, Paula repeated the monosyllable "if?" + +"And, if he showed no disposition to lead his wife, which might be the +case for some good reason, she ought to try and attain his standpoint. +Then she would evince that perfect sympathy which all the while the +husband may be longing for." + +"I--I suppose so," replied Paula, always dreading an approach toward +forbidden ground. + +"If a wife had wronged her husband, even without intention," Natalie +went on, after a considerable pause, "that fact would stand in the way +of complete sympathy." + +"There could be no wrong without intention--that is, no fault." + +"But still a wrong; one that the doer might find it harder to forgive +than the sufferer. If you were my wife. Paula----" + +"Say husband," said Paula, laughing, "and since you find obedience so +easy, I order you to prepare to let me drive you to the White House in +the pony-phaeton." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +CURSING AND BEATING HER BREAST, SHE FELL UPON THE GRAVE. + + +Mrs. Joe sought, and very easily obtained, Leonard's confidence in +regard to the grievance to which Dr. Stanley had alluded. Hampton had +been only too glad, so he averred, to accept his aid in overcoming +Brigston; and if that was in the way of accomplishment (and who could +deny it?) the fact was more attributable to him (Leonard) than to any +other man. "I simply popularized Dr. Burley's learned, but certainly +obscurely-written article, giving its author full credit; and now he +says I misrepresented him, and his complaint is echoed by every toady in +Hampton. The papers, even the secular papers, are actually making sport +of me." + +"But Dr. Burley can't deny what he wrote." + +Even Leonard smiled at her simplicity. "He can deny what I wrote, +although, in other words, it is exactly what he wrote. And that is +morally just as bad." + +The lady was full of sympathy; the more so as his "bumptiousness" was +gone. He had been plainly deeply wounded, yet out of consideration for +his wife, he had borne his grief in silence. In Mrs. Joe's eyes this +abnegation deserved recognition. There was a way by which he could +humiliate his enemies, and yet be of so much importance that they would +not venture to show resentment. She had, as we know, already "worked the +Seminary" in behoof of her "policy." She could work it a little more, +and help both Leonard and herself. Her donations to the library had not +heretofore been of large amounts, for she shrank from ostentation, but +she had always intended to be magnificent on some convenient occasion. +By being so through Leonard, she could avoid display and yet possess its +advantages, for the Seminary authorities would, of course, know the +source of a donation from a modestly anonymous lady, coming through the +hands of Leonard. + +So this matter was easily arranged. "And," suggested the lady, "after +you have given notice of the donation and have heaped coals on Dr. +Burley's head, go away for awhile. It will do you good, and they can +think their conduct over." + +The idea appealed to Leonard, who saw the situation dramatically; but +when Mrs. Joe proposed that he accompany herself, Paula and Natalie on a +visit to Mrs. Leon at Newport, he declined with some perturbation. "I'll +go to New York," he said. And, on the whole, Mrs. Joe thought this was +best, though she was surprised. + +She was glad when he had departed, believing that his absence would have +the effect of rousing Natalie from a condition incompatible with the +life of every day, in that it would result in wholesome longing for her +husband. And the politic lady soon saw her hope justified. Leonard had +been gone but a day when Natalie announced a desire to return to her own +house; not to remain, but to order some domestic arrangements, more +especially with the view of making Leonard's study more attractive than +it had been, even in those days of "coddling" which Mrs. Joe had once +found objectionable, but whose returning symptoms she now hailed with +approval. + +At Natalie's request she was driven past the cemetery, where she +alighted, and, bidding the coachman wait, she sought her child's grave. +Some tears came to her eyes as she laid flowers on the still fresh earth +and stood for many minutes leaning on the headstone. Her thoughts were +far away. In a room in Paris she saw a woman humbled by a consciousness +of wrong; and here, at the most sacred spot on earth, she renewed her +vow of atonement. + +She returned slowly to the carriage and was driven to the Morley +mansion, where she was welcomed with effusion by the maids. From them +she for the first time learned that her husband had often worked far +into the night, and while listening to their comments, she reproached +herself that she had left him alone. The house, with its closed +shutters, was gloomy even on this bright day; what had it been in the +long nights? + +She instructed the servants to prepare a light luncheon for her at noon +and leave it on the dining table, paying no further heed to her. She +intended, she said, to arrange her husband's books. + +But first she went upstairs. There beside her bed was the child's crib, +cheerless without its sheets and embroidery. The empty room, from which +daylight was nearly excluded chilled her. The rugs were removed and her +heels clicked sharply on the bare floor, making hollow echoes as she +walked. She overcame the oppressive sense of desolation and went about +her tasks. + +She put the child's trinkets away; the spoon which had been useless, the +cup from which he had never drunk, the gold chain given by Mrs. Joe, and +which, partaking of the nature of the Great Serpent, had been found too +heavy for agreeable wear; these were laid among her treasures. His +clothes, except the little gown he had worn when dying, were put aside +to be sent to poor women, already mothers or about to become such. +Leonard had once suggested kindly that they were too fine. "The mothers +won't think so," she had replied. + +This work finished, she closed the door of the room and walked down the +broad, old-fashioned stairway, every foot-fall echoing through the +ancient house of which she seemed to be the only occupant; and though +she knew the maids were at their tasks and within reach, the impression +affected her unpleasantly. She glanced more than once over her shoulder +as she descended the staircase and walked through the echoing hall. + +She entered the library--a large room, dedicated, at least nominally, +even in the days of Jeremiah Morley, to its present purpose, and later, +by Cousin Jared and her husband, lined from floor to ceiling with books, +a cheerful room when lighted, but now, with bare floor and closed +shutters, a gloomy vault in whose distant corners, where the shadows +were dark, the spirits of former occupants might lurk and peer at this +invader. The uncanny impressions that had been with her were deepened by +the sombre fancies awakened by the aspect of the room, in which the +confusion attendant on Leonard's labors was everywhere apparent. Books +were everywhere--on chairs, on tables, on the floor, face downward in +the shelves. + +She took up a small volume. Its evident antiquity attracted her and she +read the title-page: "Delay Not; or, A Call to the Careless," by the +Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn. Numerous names on the fly-leaves disclosed +that the book had been handed down through many Claghorns. The last name +was her husband's; preceding that his father's, to whom it had been +given, as testified by the inscription, by "E. Beverley Claghorn." E. +Beverley Claghorn, she knew, had been her own father. Turning the pages, +her attention was arrested. + +She read for hours. Sunk in a heap on the floor, forgotten by the +servants, her eyes gloated on the page written by her ancestor. No +romance had ever enchained her attention as did all this "Call to the +Careless." If the writer had so charmed the reader of his own +generation, the dead hand that had composed the pages which held this +reader spell-bound must have been guided by a brain cunning in the +author's craft. Whatever was the story, the woman lived in its terrors; +she cowered and moaned, her eyes stood out, and her face was a face +distorted by the horror of a soul in fear. But she could not leave the +story. Enthralled until the last page had been turned, she only then +looked up, and her eyes, which that morning had been bright with the +light of hope, born of the resolve to resume her duties as a wife, were +now dull with the shadow of an awful dread. + +She glanced fearfully around and tried to rise, but crouched again upon +the floor, one hand still clutching book and dust-cloth, the other held +as though to shield her from a blow. She uttered no word, but a strange, +hoarse rattle came from her throat, as though she would have prayed, had +her voice been at her command. At last she rose, half staggering, +retreating backward toward the door, as though she feared some presence, +and, not daring to turn, must face it. Thus she passed out of the room +and from the house. + +She walked, at first, with uncertain steps, then more firmly, and with +ever swifter stride. The by-streets through which she passed were quiet, +almost deserted; she was hardly noticed, though in one or two observers +a faint curiosity was aroused by the figure of the well-dressed, hatless +woman, be-aproned and clasping to her breast a dust-cloth and a book. As +for her, she noticed nothing as she hastened on. + +Without pause, with ever-increasing pace, which had now become a run, +she entered the gates of the cemetery, threading its alleys, seeing +nothing with her bodily eyes; for their horror and despair were no +reflection of the mournful yet peaceful scene in which she passed. She +came to the grave of her child. Again she crouched as she had done in +the library of her home; her despairing eyes were turned upward and her +hands raised in appeal to the serene and pitiless sky. + +Words came to her in the language of her childhood. "My God," she cried, +"Fiend that dwellest beyond the sky, have mercy. Pitiless Father, who +didst condemn thy Son for sport, whose nostrils love the scent of +burning men, whose ears find music in their agony, whose eyes gloat upon +their writhings, take me to thy hell of torment and release my child." + +And so, with frantic blasphemy, cursing God and beating her breast, she +fell forward upon the baby's grave. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +DR. STANLEY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE DIVERSIONS OF THE SAINTS. + + +At the hour agreed upon, Mrs. Joe left Stormpoint to fetch Natalie. As +the latter had done in the morning, and in order to inspect the +newly-erected headstone, she alighted from her carriage at the cemetery +and passed through various alleys, when, as she approached her +destination, she suddenly halted. + +A woman was stretched upon the grave, who, on hearing the ejaculation of +Mrs. Joe, partly raised her head, disclosing an earth-bedaubed face, and +emitting sounds not human, but rather the moans of a tortured animal. + +Mrs. Joe ran and seized her shoulder, and at the touch Natalie half +arose. Her gleaming eyes, her face distorted and soiled with +earth--these presented an appalling spectacle. + +The lady of Stormpoint could hardly have told how the task was +accomplished, but she succeeded in inducing the frantic woman to enter +the carriage, and, thus separated from the grave, she became quieter, +though never ceasing to mutter phrases which caused the listener to +shudder. Mrs. Joe was a woman of varied experience. She had heard the +oaths of mining camps when pistols and knives were out and frenzied +ruffians were athirst for blood; she would have thought no form of +profanity strange to her ears; yet she had heard no blasphemy equal to +that uttered by her companion, repeated as a weary child asleep may +repeat some hard-learned sentence impressed upon a tired brain. + +Arrived home, and Natalie in her bed, and withal lying quiet, and the +carriage dispatched at full speed for Dr. Stanley, there was time to +consider the next step. + +"Send for Father Cameril," urged Paula. + +"What is Leonard's address?" asked the lady, ignoring the suggestion. + +"Dear," said Paula, caressingly, and taking Natalie's hand, "where is +Leonard?" + +"In hell," was the answer. "I am overjoyed in hearing the howlings of +hell. My joy is increased as I gaze upon Leonard in the midst of that +sea of suffering." + +"Good Lord deliver us!" ejaculated Mrs. Joe. Paula fell upon her knees. +"Father in heaven!" she commenced. + +Natalie looked at her with languid interest "The sight of hell-torments +exalts the happiness of the saints," she said. + +At this delectable quotation from Jonathan Edwards Mrs. Joe wrung her +hands; Paula uttered a half scream and burst into tears; in the same +moment Dr. Stanley was ushered into the room. + +"A frightful shock!" was his verdict. "Absolute quiet! No tears; no +exorcisms," with a warning finger upheld for Paula. "I'll send a nurse +at once and return soon." + +By night he was again in the house, having received bulletins from the +nurse in the meanwhile. The patient was asleep; had been so for nearly +three hours. "Excellent!" he said to Mrs. Joe, finding that lady +awaiting his report in the library. "It's a fine brain, Mrs. Claghorn. +Let us hope it may prove a strong one. Can you explain further than you +could this afternoon?" + +"The keeper of the cemetery knows nothing. Her maids are here. I sent +James for them, and have kept them to be questioned by you." + +The maids only knew that Mrs. Leonard had visited the house, and had +spent the day in the library; that one of them, noting that her mistress +had neglected the luncheon that had been laid out for her, had ventured +to look into the room. "She was crouched on the floor, reading; I could +not well see her face. When I spoke she waved her hand, as though I was +not to interrupt. That was about two o'clock. I went back to the +kitchen, just putting the tea on the range so's to heat it. Then neither +Martha nor I thought anything more about her, until about five Martha +thought she heard the front door slam. We looked in the library; she +was gone. She hadn't touched the lunch." Such, relieved of some +circumlocution, was the report of the maid most glib of speech. They +were dismissed by the doctor. + +"She has done," was his comment, "that which creed-adherents usually +omit. She has read, and as a consequence is crazed." + +"Crazed as a consequence of reading!" exclaimed Mrs. Joe. + +"Mrs. Leonard has sustained a shock; there must be a cause. No external +injury is discoverable. The cause is to be found in her moral, or, if +you please, her spiritual constitution--I don't care what you call +it--among other things in strong maternal yearnings--subjective causes +these, and not sufficient to explain the seizure; there must have been +an agent. The maid found her deeply absorbed; people that read crouched +on the floor are so; therefore a book----" + +"I took this from her," exclaimed the lady, producing the Reverend +Eliphalet's "Call to the Careless." + +"Aha!" exclaimed the doctor, pouncing upon the volume and glancing at +the title-page, "here we have it; here's enough to convert a lying-in +hospital into Bedlam." + +Mrs. Joe gazed upon the fat little volume in the hand of the speaker, +with the same expression with which a novice might contemplate an +overgrown spider impaled upon the card of a collector. + +"This unctuous treatise," proceeded the doctor, who, finding his hobby +saddled, was impatient to mount, "was written by a shining light of that +family to which you and I have been graciously permitted to ally +ourselves. In this volume are recorded the ecstatic transports of one of +the most blessed of the blessed Claghorns. Our patient may have derived +her tendency to exaltation from this very rhapsodist. Here, with the +Reverend Eliphalet, we may revel in angelic joys; with him, we may, +god-like, gloat over sinners damned, and, enraptured, contemplate +Flames, Torment and Despair; here our ears may be charmed with the Roars +of Age, the Howls of Youth, the Screams of Childhood and the Wails of +Infancy; all in linked sweetness long drawn out; all in capital +letters, and all extorted by the Flames that Lick the Suffering +Damned!" + +"Doctor!" exclaimed the lady, scandalized at that which she supposed was +a burst of profanity. + +"Shocked? Well, shocking it is--in me, who refuse to believe it, but +edifying in Eliphalet. Ah! madam, the evil that men do lives after them. +Was truth ever better exemplified? Listen to this: The writer pictures +himself in heaven and looking down into hell. 'What joy to behold Truth +vindicated from all the horrid aspersions of hellish monsters!' (that's +me) 'I am overjoyed at hearing the everlasting Howlings of the Haters of +the Almighty! Oh! Sweet, sweet. My heart is satisfied!'" + +The lady attempted to interrupt, but the doctor continued to read: "The +saints in glory will see and better understand (than we do) how terrible +the sufferings of the damned are! When they have this sight it will +excite them to joyful praises,' that's a choice bit from Jonathan +Edwards. What do you think of the diversions of 'the saints in glory?'" + +"It's blasphemy!" + +"Blasphemy! Tell it not in Hampton! But listen to Jonathan again. Here +is his picture of a sinner just condemned. His parents are witnesses of +his terror and agony, and thus they righteously gloat: 'When they shall +see what manifestations of amazement will be in you at the hearing of +this dreadful sentence; when they shall behold you with a frightened and +amazed countenance, trembling and astonished, and shall hear you groan +and gnash your teeth, these things will not move them at all to pity +you, but you will see them with a holy joy in their countenances and +with songs in their mouths. When they shall see you turned away and +beginning to enter into the great furnace, and shall see how you shrink +at it, and hear how you shriek and cry out, yet they will not be at all +grieved for you; but at the same time you will hear from them renewed +praises and hallelujahs for this true and righteous judgment of God in +so dealing with you!'" + +"If," interjected the listener, "that is written there, the devil wrote +it." + +"The devil may have had a hand in the matter, but it was written by no +less a person than Jonathan Edwards, regarded, and justly, by the +Reverend Eliphalet and others, as a great man. He is also quoted here as +saying to his hearers, 'If you perish hereafter, it will be an occasion +of joy to all the godly'; one is hardly surprised that he didn't get on +with his congregation. Imagine Father Cameril making that announcement +with you and Miss Paula in the front pew." + +"Doctor, if you are not inventing----" + +"I could not. My imagination is not warmed by the flames of hell or by +celestial visions. This book is filled with similar elegant extracts." + +"I have heard enough, Doctor. Really----" + +"Permit me one or two more. We have hardly heard the author himself as +yet." + +"But to what end?" + +"You were incredulous when I asserted that a day's reading in Leonard's +library would account for the present condition of his wife. It's only +fair to allow me to justify my assertion." + +"You have read enough to drive _me_ crazy, if for one moment I believed +it." + +"Hardly. _You_ are not a recently bereaved mother; _you_ are not just +emerging from a condition consequent upon disturbance of the physical +economy which has reacted upon the mental; _you_ are not inclined to +mysticism, to see visions, to find pictures in goblets of water or in +grate fires; in short, while you have your own idiosyncrasies, they are +not of a character to render you liable to this sort of transport. But +there are organizations which, though seduced by mystic lore, can hardly +contemplate such matters without injury. The compiler of this book, the +men he quotes, the ecstatics in general--revivalists, hermits, nuns and +monks in all ages--do you believe that as a class they were well +balanced? Peering into heaven is a dangerous business." + +"The men you have quoted seem to have peered into hell." + +"That is the Puritan mode of ecstatic enjoyment. Our Catholic--I beg +your pardon, our Roman Catholic--enthusiasts, being more artistic, and +lovers of the beautiful, prefer contemplation of heaven. Unlike the +smug Puritan, they do not spare their bodies. They fast and flog, wear +hair shirts, roll in ashes and wash seldom, but their eyes are turned +upward; they urge the spirit to rejoice. Your fat and well-fed Calvinist +prefers a gloom irradiated by the flames of hell, in which he can behold +the writhing victims of God's vanity----" + +"Doctor, you are as bitter as all your brethren; you unbeliever----" + +"I don't know that I'm more of an unbeliever than you are. I'm sure if +the Reverend Eliphalet has not by this time modified his opinions, he +has no expectation of meeting you in heaven. Hear him as he warns +humanity against the devices of Satan: 'Of which,' he says, 'the traces +are visible even in the church. In these days there hath arisen a +delusive hope as to infants. Some hold, and a few dare to assert, though +with bated breath, that all infants die in the grace of God. Who saith +this? Not God, who, by His Eternal Decree, hath declared that none but +His Elect are saved. Not our Confession of Faith, formulated at +Westminster in earnest prayer and reverence for the Word. Not the +framers of that Confession, of whom I may mention Twisse, as having +specially wrote against this new-born folly, extorted by the cunning of +the Enemy of Souls by means of the bleatings of foolish mothers--search +the Scripture, reader! Nowhere shalt thou find any saved but His +Elect.'" + +"Abominable!" ejaculated the lady. + +"Poetical. 'Bleatings of foolish mothers' is quite so. And now our good +man actually drops into the poetry of the Reverend Michael Wigglesworth, +whose 'Day of Doom' he quotes at length. I will not inflict the whole +fifteen stanzas upon you; but listen to a morsel or two. This is the +Argument: The Still-born appear at the Seat of Mercy, and put in a plea +for grace that might have weight in Senegambia, but which has none in +the heaven of Eliphalet and of Hampton: + + 'Then to the bar they all drew near who died in Infancy, + And never had, or good or bad, effected personally, + But from the womb unto the tomb were straightway carried + (Or at the least, ere they transgressed), who thus began to plead.' + +"Their plea is that since Adam, the actual delinquent, has been 'set +free, and saved from his trespass,' they are on better grounds entitled +to consideration. To the finite intelligence there would seem to be some +force in the infantile argument. What says Omnipotence? + + 'I may deny you once to try, or grace to you to tender, + Though he finds Grace before my face who was the chief offender. + You sinners are, and such a share as sinners may expect, + Such you shall have, for I do save none but mine own elect; + Yet to compare your sin with their who sinned a longer time, + I do confess yours is much less, though every sin's a crime; + A crime it is, therefore in bliss you may not hope to dwell, + But unto you I shall allow THE EASIEST ROOM IN HELL.'" + +The doctor closed the book. "I submit that I have proved my contention," +he said. "Do you doubt now that Mrs. Leonard was affected by her +browsings among Leonard's books? The men who wrote the matter of which +this volume is made up were largely the founders of Hampton, men whose +names she has heard venerated as almost inspired of God." + +"Even so, how could she believe such absurdities?" + +"I do not assert that she believed. Belief in the impossible is +impossible. But have you never been deeply impressed by fiction; never +been scared by a ghost story? Have you shed tears over the sorrows of +Colonel Newcome? The few quotations you have heard cause you to shrink, +though you are well aware they are but foolish words. But if you could +_see_ the scenes herein depicted, I do not think you could bear the +prospect. I am sure _I_ should howl as lustily as any hellish monster +here referred to. Well, Mrs. Leonard being so constituted, has actually +_seen_ these horrors, and, in the central figure, has contemplated the +writhings of her child." + +"Oh, Doctor!" she spoke in a subdued tone, her eyes expressing more than +her words. + +"Even you, here in this well-lighted and cheerful room, with me, a very +material and matter-of-fact person, beside you, even you can feel a +faint reflection of the terrors in which this woman spent the day. +Alone, without food, a deserted room, a gloomy house, but lately +cheerful with the prattle of a childish voice, forever silent, but of +which the echoes still linger in the mother's ears--here's enough and +more than enough to disturb an exalted temperament, a morbid +imagination. Add this"--the doctor shook the book in his hand--"and what +need of belief, if by belief you mean the result of a reasoning process? +The ideas suggested _here took possession of her_! Belief! Pshaw! nobody +believes in this stuff; but Hampton says it believes." + +"But that's monstrous!" + +"Nothing more common than loud assertions of belief where is no belief. +That's politics, partisanship." + +"But this is religion----" + +"So-called." + +"But----" + +"The Westminster Confession is a written document. The men who composed +it knew what they wished to say, and said it so clearly that nobody can +misapprehend their meaning. Your own creed of compromises--pardon me, +compromise is always the resort of politicians who understand their +business--was wiser, or luckier; its Articles are all loopholes in +regard to this doctrine of Election----" + +"Doctor, your ignorance of my church is so palpable that I decline to +take your word concerning Hampton and the Confession of Faith. I've +never read it----" + +"Even its adherents are not so rash. It becomes a serious matter as to +one's self-respect to maintain a monstrous absurdity, after one knows +it. Nevertheless, the Westminster Confession teaches as truth all that +the Reverend Eliphalet says, or that Michael Wigglesworth grotesquely +sings. Moreover, it is annually published under the title of 'The +Constitution and Standards of the Presbyterian Church in the United +States of America'--a solemn declaration that God, before the creation +of man, damned the great majority to everlasting agony so excruciating +as to be beyond conception, and all for His own glory and pleasure." + +"Yet I know, and you ought to know, that Christianity offers salvation +to every soul through the medium of its Founder." + +"Denied _in toto_ by Westminster. According to the Confession, not even +Jesus Christ could diminish the number of the damned, fixed before the +creation of a single soul. If Mrs. Leonard's baby was born to be damned, +damned he is." + +"Now I know you are asserting what is not so. I have heard infant +damnation denied by Hampton professors." + +"And may again. I do not claim that a single human being believes the +Westminster Confession; but I do maintain that he who acknowledges that +Confession as his standard, and retains membership in that church, which +annually promulgates the same as truth, either believes an outrageous +absurdity, or says he believes it. If he is not willing to do this, he +has no right in the organization; why, only the other day Dr. Willis was +requested to get out because he declined to say he believed that which +he does not believe." + +"Doctor, I am sorry to say it, but your statements are not credible----" + +"Don't apologize. Of course they are not; but they are true. I certainly +don't blame you for doubting my word. But you shall ask Hodge; I'll lend +you his commentary. Hodge hopes as to infants, but is honest enough to +admit that in the Confession there is no ground for hope. He damns all +heathen incontinently, which includes all the babies I ever knew, though +he may have known babies that were not heathen. And, after all, why this +solicitude for babies? Why is it less monstrous to condemn to eternal +torture a being six feet long than one of three? Why, on the last +occasion I was in a church I heard these words: 'The sentiment which +sorrows over what God reveals as His will is simply maudlin. When the +Christian finds out who are in the regions of despair he will neither be +affected by their number nor by the duration of their punishment.' +That's not much better than 'bleating mothers.' And in the +meanwhile"--he concluded a tirade so rapidly uttered that his auditor +had had no opportunity to interrupt--"they are quarreling about Socrates +and tobacco, crusading against my bottle of claret, and sending +missionaries to Japan." Who "they" were he had no opportunity to +designate, for at this moment a messenger from the nurse announced that +the patient was awake. + +When the doctor and the lady entered the room, Natalie looked at them, +but betrayed no surprise. Mrs. Joe was startled by the expression of her +face, which was peaceful, even happy. "Heaven is beautiful," she said, +without other preface. "Birds and flowers and little children. Oh! the +happy little children and Lenny among them; all so happy, so rosy! Ah, I +am glad!" And even as she sighed her gladness she sank into slumber. The +doctor watched her anxiously for many minutes; then he signed to Mrs. +Joe to follow, and they softly left the room. + +"Is it death?" asked the lady, who had been frightened by his anxious +face. + +"Such visions often mean death; there's nothing certain yet, but every +hope. Go to bed, Mrs. Claghorn; I shall remain here." + +But though the lady declined to go to bed, the discussion was not +resumed. + +About four in the morning he went alone to the room, and soon returned +with a smiling face. "She is sleeping naturally," he said. "A few hours +since I feared for her reason; now I have great hope. I shall return at +eight o'clock. Let nobody go near her. Burn that thing; she must never +see it again." He pointed to the "Call to the Careless," and left the +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +STARTLING EFFECT OF "DR. BURLEY'S TRUE MEANING." + + +Leonard remained in New York, ignorant of the events which had +transpired at Stormpoint, concerning which, however, he was soon +informed by a letter written by Mrs. Joe, a letter which conveyed the +intelligence that his wife had fainted in the cemetery "as a consequence +of over-exertion," that Dr. Stanley wished the intended visit to Newport +to be made as soon as possible, that there was no need of his presence +in Easthampton, and that if he were to come there he would probably find +his wife already departed. All of which, though dictated by the +physician, had been written with misgiving, as conveying an insufficient +statement of the facts. But the doctor had been peremptory. "Keep them +apart," he had said. "The only subject on which Leonard can expatiate +just now is damnation, and of that the wife has had more than enough." + +Leonard evinced no desire to follow the Newport party. Misled by the +communication from the lady of Stormpoint, and yet more influenced by +reluctance to enter the household of Mrs. Leon, of which household he +assumed Berthe Lenoir to be still an inmate, he was willing to enjoy a +holiday which he thought he had fairly earned. Mrs. Joe, though +surprised by his acquiescence, was relieved. She was still more +surprised when her keen vision detected that Natalie was equally +relieved. "It seemed," she observed to the doctor, "to lighten her +heart." + +"Instinct," he replied, and made no further comment; but though +ordinarily very discreet as to professional matters, he mentioned the +circumstance to his wife, at the same time advancing a theory which +startled that lady. + +Freed from anxiety concerning Natalie, whose letters, though very short, +reported continuing improvement in the matter of health, Leonard +resolved, for the present at least, to forget the ingratitude of +Hampton, and to enjoy to the fullest his bachelor outing. He recalled +his strolls on Parisian Boulevards, and in fancy lived in past delights, +promenading Broadway with the old Parisian strut, though modified, and +not oblivious of the fact that here, as in Paris, were handsome eyes, +not unwilling to return the glance of one who had been likened to a +Greek god. + +Sometimes, indeed often, he lamented that his lot had not been cast in +the great world. His instincts truthfully told him that, as a man of +action, he would have presented no mean figure; there were even moments +when he wished, though he knew the futility of such a wish, that he +might never see Hampton or hear of theology again. This he knew well +enough was but the natural reaction from the strain of his recent +labors, but he toyed with the thought, half playfully, half regretfully, +as indicating one of the things that might have been. If there were any +conscience-pricks they were too feeble to be felt; he had ceased to be a +boy (so he said to himself); the boy, for instance, he had been when, on +the Heidelberg terrace, he had yearned over the erring soul of his +cousin. The religious sentiment which once had glowed so ardently in his +bosom was burned out, consumed in the heat of partisan theology; but +though he knew this, he did not know the meaning of the fact. To him it +meant that his salvation was assured, and with that conviction the great +concern of life had passed into the peace which passeth understanding. + +Just now, however, he was not giving much attention to his personal +religious attitude, as he moved among the city's throngs well-clad, rosy +and with the form and grace of an athlete and the eager eyes of +innocence and unconscious desire. In the delight of the holiday, a +delight which sometimes rose to a surprising fervor, he thought of +certain Parisian peccadillos, and more than once half resolved to renew +his acquaintance with the ballet and _belles jambes_, like unto those of +Mademoiselle Coralie, which gamboled ravishingly in the haze of memory; +but he rejected the imprudent suggestion; he might be recognized, and +Brigston would rejoice in unholy glee, if its most potent adversary--he +wondered if this fact were known to the passers-by--were discovered in a +temple of dubious recreation. Such recollections brought Paris very +vividly before his eyes, and for some reason also the memory of Berthe +and of that rapturous kiss; and perhaps at such times the handsome face +assumed the look of which Mrs. Joe had disapproved. + +The remembrance of Berthe recalled Natalie, who, as he believed, was in +the house with her former maid, and Natalie's beauty, and he was filled +with tenderness, and his soul yearned with a great longing, and had it +not been that Berthe was there he would have fled to Newport. He +recognized now a fact of which he had, in a vague way, been long +conscious, the fact that ever since the birth of the boy he and his wife +had grown somewhat apart. She had been engrossed with the child, and he +with his theological war. He regretted it, and resolved that it must not +be so in the future. Loving one another as they did, it would be easy to +grow together again. He would tell her how grievously he had been +treated by Hampton, in its envy; and on the beautiful bosom that he +loved and that was his own, would pour out his griefs and find sweetest +solace. If she would only curtail her visit! + +One day there came a letter from his wife which he opened in the eager +hope that it would announce the termination of her stay in Newport. He +was disappointed in this, and was further rendered uneasy by the tone of +constraint in which it was written, or which he imagined; for if there +were constraint, it was hard to point out just where it lay; yet he +felt, if he could not see, that the pen of the writer had been heavy in +her hand. But he was more than uneasy; he felt resentment rising within +him as he read the postscript, which was as follows: "Do you believe +that there is an eternal hell and that many are condemned? Will you +answer this as briefly as possible?" + +He studied the written words with growing annoyance. The curtness of the +question seemed to indicate that to the questioner the matter was of +minor import--trivial, in fact; if she really thought thus, then all his +recent labors had been labor in vain. Nothing had so angered him as +suggestions of this character, frequently made by a godless secular +press. One journal had, with pretended gravity, argued that since all +heathen and their progeny must be damned, extermination was more +merciful than the hopeless attempt at conversion, and at least as +practicable; another had flippantly suggested that Professor Claghorn be +required to demonstrate the utility of theological seminaries, since no +product of those institutions could, by any possibility, be instrumental +in saving a single soul--and so on. All of which he had borne with a +fair show of equanimity, but he had smarted; and now Natalie's question +seemed, at first sight, an echo of the unworthy journalistic jibes. +There might be various opinions concerning hell; it was conceivable that +the great majority preferred an attitude of incredulity as to its +inevitable destination; but, at least, it was a serious subject. + +But later readings of the letter seemed to indicate that it had been +written with a heavy heart. There was affection in it, but a tone of +gloom as well, which, though Natalie admitted that her health was +completely restored, was too apparent to permit the supposition of a +trifling postcript. The inference, then, must be that she had arrived at +a not uncommon stage of religious agitation, often preliminary to +conversion, a stage which he knew to be frequently of intense suffering +to the neophyte, though satisfactory to pious observers, who were +inclined to see in the lowest depths of misery the sure precursor of the +highest joy. He had, himself, at an unusually early age, passed through +a similar experience, and though that period of anguish was so far +behind him that he could not recall its terrors, he knew that they had +been very dreadful, and that his parents, to whom he had been as the +apple of their eye, had been correspondingly complacent. There was, in +these days, less of the agonized form of religious experience, but he +could easily understand that it might happen to Natalie, who, in +religion, was still but a babe. + +The only way to deal with the matter was the way in which it had been +treated in his own case. There must be no slurring of the truth. He +would disdain that course in private as much as he had disdained it in +public. Hampton might shrink from disclosure of eternal verity; he would +not. + +Wherefore, he sent to Natalie his pamphlet, entitled, "Dr. Burley's True +Meaning," not sorry that she should see how clearly and uncompromisingly +he could state matters which others had been willing to obscure. The +true meaning of the Confession, and, therefore, of the Bible, and, +therefore, of the learned biblical scholar whose text Leonard +illuminated, was that the majority of mankind was on the way to a hell, +eternal, and of torture inconceivable. + +The pamphlet was relentless, as was proper; but in his accompanying +letter to his wife Leonard was very tender. He showed her that there was +but one course to pursue in the face of indisputable truth, and that was +resignation to the will of heaven. Weak humanity might grieve over God's +will; such sorrow was certainly pardonable by man, but was nevertheless +rebellion; and, before complete reconciliation to God could be assumed, +must be dismissed from the heart. Leaving religion, he proceeded to tell +his wife that his longing for her was growing absolutely insupportable, +and he was much more fervid in his petition that she hasten her return +home than he had been in his doctrinal expositions. He dispatched his +letter, and returned to his former avocations, but with little spirit; +he longed for Natalie, and had no room for other than the thoughts that +accompanied his longing. In a few days he was able to start for home, +Natalie having, in a very short letter, in which she made no comment on +the one he had last written, announced her arrival in Hampton by a train +due there a few minutes later than the one from New York by which he +traveled, and when he finally alighted at the station, he was tremulous +with anticipation, and his disappointment was proportionate when the +Newport train arrived with none of the expected travelers. + +There was nothing to do but to bear a revulsion of feeling, which was +actually painful. He walked across the Square to his home, and found the +maids with everything prepared for his arrival, and with a letter from +Natalie which informed him that she would be in Hampton on the +following morning. + +He went early to bed, discontented and fretful. He slept badly, and in +the night got up and wandered restlessly about, and in his wanderings +made a discovery which might have remained unnoticed had the fancies +which vexed his repose been of a different character. + +After the birth of her child, Natalie had occupied a room separate from +her husband's, in order that the latter, whose literary labors were +exacting, should not be disturbed. In his prowling Leonard discovered +evidences that this arrangement was to be continued, and as he stood in +the gaslight considering the tokens whereby he inferred that one room +was reserved for masculine, the other for feminine occupancy, he +mentally pronounced the arrangement unsatisfactory, and experienced a +feeling of vexation amounting to resentment. + +But resentment gave way when, next morning, having seen Mrs. Joe and +Paula drive away to Stormpoint, and having followed Natalie to the room +which he had inspected the night before with dissatisfaction, he once +more held her in his arms. The light that gleamed from her eyes, the +roseate hue upon her feverish cheeks, the rich red lips upon which he +pressed his own hungrily--the beautiful reality, fairer than the fairest +vision of his hours of longing, banished every thought but one. + +He held her long in a close embrace. He was very happy, and when she had +withdrawn from his arms he sat upon the edge of the bed telling her of +his disappointment of the day before, and of his nocturnal prowlings, +and laughingly advancing his objections to the sleeping arrangements she +had ordered. Meanwhile, she said but little, being engaged in searching +for something in her trunk. At length she found whatever she had been +seeking. "Leonard," she said, "go down to the library. I must speak to +you, but not here." + +The manner and the tone puzzled him--then he remembered. He sighed +involuntarily. It was an inopportune moment to discuss conversion--but +since she was in its throes----He went downstairs; his face betrayed +vexation. + +Soon she entered the room where he awaited her, seated in a big chair. +She knelt before him, taking his hand in hers. "Leonard," she said, "I +am sorry you don't like the arrangement of the bedrooms." + +Her solemnity had led him to expect something of greater importance than +this, which was, however, decidedly a more welcome topic. "You know, +dearest," he said, with a quizzical look, "as husband and wife----" + +"Leonard! Leonard! We dare not be husband and wife." + +He stared at her in amazement. "What do you mean?" he said. + +"I mean this," she answered, producing "Dr. Burley's True Meaning." "Oh, +Leonard! How could the same man write that book and be a father?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +HE CLASPED HER LITHE BODY WITH A CLUTCH OF FURY. + + +Mrs. Joe had not obeyed Dr. Stanley's injunction, to burn the "Call to +the Careless," but had studied that delectable composition sufficiently +to compel her to exonerate the doctor from her suspicion, that he had +invented much of the matter, which he had, in fact, read from the text +before him. + +Her researches had not been without an object. It is, perhaps, +unnecessary to point out that this lady's conscience was sufficiently +elastic for ordinary purposes, even for ordinary political purposes, and +it might have with stood the assaults made upon it by her investigation, +had she been of the usual sex of politicians. She could go far in the +interests of her son, but long ago she had borne another child, whose +smile as it faded in death had ever been, at odd moments, before her, +and constantly before her during her wanderings in fields theological, +and she had but recently seen a woman crazed by contemplation of her +baby in hell. When she had learned, by means of her studies, that a +great ecclesiastical body still dooms the vast majority of those born of +woman to everlasting woe, it came upon her like a blow in the face that, +in order to see her son in the legislature, she had aided in +promulgating the diabolical creed which, in the face of nineteen +centuries of Christianity, is still waved aloft as the Standard of a +Christian Church. + +Upon the first shock of this knowledge she followed the inevitable +course of the conscience-stricken, and proceeded to argue with the +inward monitor. "Nobody believes that now," she insisted; "the actual +belief has been modified to accord with common sense. No Christian can +admit that God is a demon, and no Christian can teach impossible +falsehood." In answer to which, Conscience pointed to the title-page, +which proclaimed the Confession to be the "Standard of the Presbyterian +Church in the United States of America.'" She resolved to seek +enlightenment at the acknowledged head of human wisdom in Hampton, and +called for the purpose on the great Dr. Burley himself. Him she +encountered as he was emerging from his front door. "Does Hampton +actually uphold the Westminster Confession?" she asked. + +"Certainly, my dear madam, so does Brigston." + +"I'm not interested in Brigston. I am in Hampton." + +"And we are all glad that it is so. But, I see--I've always been afraid +of it; you are going to try and get us all over to St. Perpetua, ha! +ha!" + +"And does Hampton really believe----?" + +"Only what is true. I must be off to my lecture now; we must have it out +some other time. How's the Bishop? Fine fellow; wish we had him. +Good-bye; Mrs. Burley will be _delighted to_ see you," and the doctor +waved the lady into the house and made his escape. + +Having no desire to call upon Mrs. Burley, the lady of Stormpoint +remained in the vestibule only long enough for the gentleman to get +away; she then descended the steps and was about to enter her carriage, +when she was accosted by Dr. Stanley, who, after the usual salutations, +asked her if she had seen Leonard recently. + +"I am about to call on him now--on unpleasant business." + +"That's a pity. You'll wish you had stayed at home. I have just left +him; he's as cross as three sticks, which I suppose are crosser than the +proverbial two." + +"I suppose because the newspapers are still nagging him." + +"Perhaps; yet if you could manage a confidential talk with Mrs. Leonard, +it might be a good thing." + +"Ah! You've noticed that there's domestic trouble? I have suspected it. +Why was he willing to stay away from Newport? Why was his wife reluctant +to come home?" + +"Perhaps you can find out. Doctors can't ask indiscreet questions more +than other people." + +"And you think I can, or will?" In answer to which the physician merely +shrugged his shoulders. + +The lady drove away, her distaste for the task before her not diminished +by the encounter. She was quite sure that the physician would not have +made the allusions, which had fallen from him, unless he believed that +the domestic status in the Morley mansion was of grave significance. +Which, in fact, it was; a dark shadow loomed, ever larger, in the old +house. + +Leonard was very unhappy. Natalie's ignorance, in respect to his +longings, her utter absence of sympathy; these formed the side of the +shadow visible to him. He was irritable, at times harsh; but more deadly +in its possible results was a sullen resentment, so deep that its +ferocity and strength were unsuspected by himself. He was gazing moodily +out of the library window when Mrs. Joe's equipage stopped at the door, +and in another moment the lady was ushered in. + +"What is it?" he asked shortly. His manner was divested of its usual +graces. He looked moodily at the floor. + +"Only a matter of business. Leonard, have you informed the Hampton +people of the gift of which I spoke to you?" + +"It has been mentioned." + +"Leonard, I ought not to give it." + +"You don't mean you have met with serious losses?" he exclaimed, +impressed by her manner. + +"No, no! But my views have changed; that is, I have made discoveries. +Will it annoy you, personally, if the gift is not made?" + +"I shall regret it; but nobody will blame me, if that's what you mean." + +She was relieved. Still, it was painful to withhold a promised gift, +especially painful to deprive him just now of the credit of being her +almoner. "I wish you to take this," she said, handing him a cheque. "Let +it go to the poor of the town, the hospital, the blind asylum----" + +He took the slip of paper she held out to him. He was startled by the +amount. "Mrs. Joe----" he commenced. + +"We can arrange as to details," she interrupted. "Oblige me by taking it +now." + +He saw that she was somewhat agitated, and knew that she feared that the +withdrawal of the gift to the Seminary might have wounded him. This was +her way of curing such wounds. It would be ungracious to refuse the +cheque, yet even as he looked at it, a strange foreboding was upon him. + +He sat down saying he would prefer to give her a receipt as trustee. "As +you say, we must arrange as to details. Meanwhile, I suggest a portion +of the sum for the Missionary Fund----" + +"Not one penny of it," she answered with energy. + +"Do you object to the conversion of the heathen?" he asked surprised. + +"I do," was her emphatic answer. "Leave them alone. I suppose there are +among them some that look with hope beyond the grave. I will not be an +instrument to destroy that hope." + +He jumped at once to the conclusion that she had been reading some of +the frothy and ill-considered articles of the secular press in regard to +the Hampton-Brigston controversy, and again the suspicion arose in his +mind that Natalie was influenced by the wretched diatribes of the +newspapers. + +"I should fail in my duty as a Christian, Mrs. Joe," he said coldly, "if +I made no effort to disabuse your mind of prejudice. Your capacity to +aid a noble cause is so great----" + +"God knows," she interrupted earnestly, "I desire to use that capacity +for good. I have done grievous harm hitherto." + +"I do not understand." + +"Leonard, look at this. It is a fair statement. I know it because I have +tested every line of it in the Seminary Library. Can I give money to +bring tidings of their eternal damnation to the heathen? They are +happier without such knowledge." + +He took from her hand a cutting from a newspaper. It was an attack on +his theology: "As a mitigation of the misery which flows from the +Westminster Confession," wrote the journalist, "probation after death +has been suggested by weaklings. We know how that suggestion has been +received. In June, 1893, the General Assembly of the Church convicted +Dr. Briggs, its author, of heresy, and stigmatized sanctification after +death as 'in direct conflict with the plain teachings of the Divine +Word, and the utterances of the Standards of our Church'; a deliverance +which consigns to hell myriads of Jews, Mohammedans and honest doubters +of Christendom--all to be added to the number of heathen in hell. +Concerning these last, various computations have been made by +theologians of a mathematical turn; the American Board estimates that +five hundred millions go to hell every thirty years, or as Dr. Skinner +has it, thirty-seven thousand millions since the Christian era. Dr. +Hodge states that none escape. The last-named learned commentator on the +Confession of Faith is even hopeless as to Christian infants, concerning +whom he says, 'It is certainly revealed that none, either adult or +infant, are saved, except by special election,' and that it is not +'positively revealed that all infants are elect.'" + +The article proceeded to argue that, if all this were true (which the +writer denied), to impart the knowledge to the heathen would be cruel, +and that if it were not true, so much the less should lives and money be +spent in the dissemination of false views of God's mercy and justice. + +"Beyond the fact that the writer is thoroughly illogical, slipshod and +evidently malicious, there is no fault to be found with his statements," +observed Leonard, as he returned the cutting to the lady. + +"Leonard, my conscience will not permit me to disseminate a faith which +knows no mercy." + +He respected Mrs. Joe; he could even sympathize with her views, though, +regarding her as a child in doctrine, he did not think it worth while to +attempt to explain to her the enlightening and consolatory effect of the +"high mysteries," which are to be handled "with especial care." "Let the +matter rest awhile," he said. "I will arrange as to the hospital and for +a donation to the blind asylum. We can agree as to the distribution of +the rest of the fund later. You will not always be so hard on Hampton. +Theology is not learned in a day, Mrs. Joe, and, you will excuse me for +saying it, you have not given as much thought to the matter as some +others." + +"I am not foolish enough to pretend to a knowledge of theology. That +would be as absurd as the exhibition presented by men who pass years in +striving to reconcile eternal damnation and common justice." Having +fired this shot, the lady took her departure. + +The door had scarce closed upon her when Leonard called Natalie. An +impression, revived by his visitor and her newspaper cutting, that his +wife's attitude had its inspiration in the empty criticisms of the +press, had aroused his anger. He resolved that the present mode of +living should terminate. He had rights, God-given, as well as by the +laws of men; he would enforce them if he must. + +In their intercourse recently, Leonard had refrained from harshness, but +he had been unable to conceal a resentment, hourly growing in strength; +his manner had been hard and sullen. Without exhibiting actual +discourtesy he had shown plainly enough that he preferred to be alone, +and, except when it was inevitable, husband and wife had hardly met or +spoken together for days. + +Hence, when Natalie heard him call, a flush, born partly of +apprehension, partly of hope, suffused her cheek. She came toward him, +smiling and rosy, a vision of radiant loveliness. The pleading +tenderness of her eyes was answered by the wolfish gleam of a gaze that +arrested her steps. He seized her in his arms, clasping the lithe body +in a clutch of fury, kissing her red lips and clinging to their +sweetness with a ferocity that terrified her. In this shameful embrace +they wrestled a moment until the man's violence enfeebled himself. She +broke from him, standing before him an image of outraged modesty, +panting, indignant and bewildered. + +"Leonard!" + +He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His own +self-respect was shocked. He was humiliated, and his shame increased his +resentment. + +"What is it?" she asked, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder, and +noting that he shuddered at the touch. + +"What is it?" he repeated. For a moment a fury to strike her possessed +him. By an effort he calmed himself. + +"Natalie," he said, in a slow, measured tone, "do you regard me as your +husband?" + +"You know I do, Leonard." + +He sighed despairingly. How was he to bring a knowledge of facts to +this woman incapable of comprehending them, or what they signified for +him? + +"Natalie," he said, and now he took her hand in his, noting its cool +freshness again his own hot palm. "We cannot live thus; we are married. +We must be husband and wife." + +"You dare not create victims of hell," she whispered. + +"Natalie, you would impiously abrogate God's holy ordinance. Marriage is +enjoined by Scripture. Sin of the most heinous character is born of +neglect of this ordinance of God." + +"Leonard, Leonard," she cried, "you can have no assurance that your +children will be saved. Only the elect." + +"All, dying in infancy are elect," he answered impatiently. "That is the +universal belief of to-day." + +She grew very white as she looked at him; her eyes were big with horror. +"Do you mean," she asked hoarsely, "that we should murder our babies?" + +"Murder!" he exclaimed, amazed. + +"Since only infants are certainly saved----" + +He burst into a discordant laugh. "Natalie," he said, "as a reasoner you +would do credit to Brigston." + +"I can see no other way," she said after a pause. "My reasoning may be +defective, but you do not show me its defects. Surely you believe the +Confession and the catechisms?" + +"Every line of either," he answered defiantly and in anger. Had he not +labored night and day for a year past to demonstrate the truth of the +"Standards"? + +"Then," she answered sadly, "you have no right to become a father. +Fathers and mothers are instruments of the devil. According to your +belief, no sin can compare with the sin of bringing forth a creature so +offensive to God that it must suffer eternal punishment. You may believe +that you and I are both to dwell together in hell. If that be our fate +we must submit. But our children, Leonard! Shall we earn their hatred in +life, and watch their torments in unquenchable fires?" + +"Do you compare yourself and me, and children born of us, to the +depraved mass of humanity? Have you no assurance of God's gracious +mercy?" + +"God's gracious mercy!" she repeated. "God's gracious mercy!" + +"Natalie," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly. "You who but +a short time since had no religion, surely you will concede that I know +something of that which has been the study of my life. I tell you that +your reasoning is frantic nonsense; it would be blasphemous if it were +not for your ignorance." + +"You believe the Confession true--every line. I have studied it; I have +studied your book. Prior to that I had spent a whole day, in this very +room, reading----" + +He laughed, but as before there was no mirth in the laugh. "A whole +day," he said, "and this profound research enables you to contend with +me in a science that I have studied all my life." + +"On that day," she answered, shuddering, "the fires of hell blazed +before my eyes and I heard the wails of damned souls. In a day much may +be learned. If what I then saw be true--I do not know--you say it is; +you say hell is----" + +"And say it again," he interrupted. "If I had never known it before, I +would know it now." + +"Then, Leonard, you must justify me. Since God cannot save the +innocent----" + +"He punishes the guilty only." + +"Having himself decreed their guilt! In the face of that decree there is +no human guilt. Even marriage, that most hideous of all crimes, does not +merit endless suffering----" + +"You insist that all are damned; you rave. Nobody asserts that all are +damned." + +"'He hath chosen some to eternal life and foreordained the rest to +dishonor and wrath.' Yet if there were but a single soul to suffer; if +but one solitary creature of all the millions of men were doomed to +dwell in hell forever--the knowledge that your child, Leonard, might be +that lonely one--surely such knowledge----" + +He ground his teeth. She drew texts from the source he had declared to +be the living truth. He had no answer; there was no answer. + +"Leave me," he whispered, in a tone that evidenced his fury better than +a roar of rage. Again he hid his face in his hands. She often turned to +look at him as she slowly withdrew, but he did not raise his head. + +He wrestled fiercely with his emotions and with the problem that fate +had raised. At times rage consumed his soul, and his thoughts rioted in +brutal instigation, which even then he feared, and of which he was +ashamed. At moments he hated, at moments he loved, but hating or loving, +the seductive charms of the woman swayed before his eyes, mocking him as +the mirage mocks the fainting pilgrim. Hours passed and he remained in +the same attitude, striving to estimate the situation correctly, so that +he could evolve a remedy. He could not deny her reasoning; he would not +give up his faith. His mind, rigid from the training to which it had +been subjected, was incapable of readily admitting new theories; and his +best nourished and most vigorous attribute was involved. Whether his +integrity could be bent or not, it was certain that his vanity would not +submit. No! He would not deny his faith. He would enforce his rights. + +But not without further effort at persuasion. He made a heroic and +worthy resolve. He would be patient still, meanwhile using every gentle +measure. He would enlist Mrs. Joe in his cause. She was a matron, shrewd +and too well balanced to allow religious notions to carry her to +fanatical extremes; and she did not hold his own views, apparently not +even as to eternal punishment. Perhaps she would convince Natalie that +there was no hell. It would be a lie, but better that his wife believe a +lie than that hell reign in his house and in his bosom. + +At the dinner hour the maid handed her mistress a note. It ran thus: + + "Dear Natalie--I have decided to leave home for a little time. + I think we are better apart. If you will open your heart to + Mrs. Joe she will explain that which you and I cannot discuss. + I learn that you are in your own room, and think it better not + to disturb you. Good-bye, for a little time. It may be that I + shall not write. + + "LEONARD." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +A PAEAN OF VICTORY HYMNED IN HELL. + + +On the day following that upon which Leonard and Natalie had last met in +Leonard's study, there were two women in a room of a shabby New York +house, evidently once a worthy residence, but now sadly fallen from that +estate. + +One of the two, half dressed, with a good deal of tarnished lace +decorating such clothing as she had on, sat on the bed in an easy +attitude, careless as to the display of a handsome person. Dark, +heavy-browed, her first youth past, her haggard face was redeemed by +deep, soft eyes, that now, however, from beneath their long lashes, +looked out upon the face of the other woman with suspicious wariness. + +This one, overfed, coarse, vile to look upon, with the face of a painted +gargoyle, red and mottled, garishly dressed in a loose gown, stood with +arms akimbo, her little eyes bent wickedly upon the woman on the bed. + +"Ten days' board," croaked the fat one. "Ten days." + +"Ten weeks, for all I care," was the reply. + +The fat creature wheezed and snorted; she half lifted her great red hand +as if to administer a blow. + +"Try it," said the other, "and I'll stick this into you," holding +threateningly the blade of a pair of scissors. + +The fat one recoiled; there was enough recklessness in the eyes of the +woman with the scissors to justify the movement. "Now, now, Frenchy," +she remonstrated, "you won't be a fool. Possy bate, eh?" + +"_Pas si bete_," laughed the other grimly. "Try it and see!" + +"You know," said the rubicund one, "this ain't white, Berthe. Whose +fault is it if you've no money?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed Berthe. "You think me of your kind. I'm a lady; I was a +fool to come here." + +"Sure, you're a lady; and for that very reason ought to make a mint of +money. I'll tell you what's the matter with you, Berthe--you're a mule. +I swear," she exclaimed, suddenly conscious of wrong, "my boarders is +the bane of my life. Mules--but there, nobody'd believe what I've +borne." + +"_Malheureuse!_" sneered Berthe. + +"I tell you, missy, girls don't talk that way to me!" exclaimed the +red-gowned dame, perhaps suspecting unseemly profanity veiled in a +foreign tongue. + +"I don't want to talk any way to you. Get out," replied Berthe. + +"And the board bill?" + +"I've had nothing to eat for two days." + +"And won't have as long as you're a mule. If you have no money by this +time to-morrow, out you go, and without your trunk; so Frenchy," +concluded the woman, changing her tone to persuasion, "be reasonable. +You shall have dinner if you'll promise to go out afterward. Think it +over," and she waddled off. + +Berthe lay back upon the pillow, her long arms stretched above her head, +and thought it over. + +She had left Mrs. Leon long ago, and since then her steps had been +downward. For awhile a nursery governess, which, being amply capable, +she might have long remained had it not been for her eyes. She was not +altogether conscious of the capacity of her eyes, and was long innocent +of the knowledge of the strife and hatred they had wrought in the family +in which she served. Maltreated by an infuriated mistress, she had +avenged herself amply, living for months in luxury, and on the money and +caresses legally belonging to the other. But she had never cared for her +sinner, and he had been glad to creep back to that which he had +dishonored, not forgiven, but accepted as a hard necessity. Her luxuries +and her money were soon spent--as for the rest, it is a dark tale that +she recalls, lying there majestic, with her long arms above her black +head and her dark eyes brooding. + +The present was a problem. The move to this house was toward a deeper +degradation than any she had known, and she recoiled from its demands. +She knew its probable end, too. She was shrewd, dominant if she chose to +be; in short, no fool. She could rise to prosperity and become like the +gargoyle, but the prospect sickened her. All the inmates of the house +were to her abhorrent, but the gargoyle was a loathsome, soulless, +pitiless beast, only not a fool. The others were fools, and she knew, +feeling the sparks of humanity within her, that she must even be a fool +rather than a beast. And the end of the fool was misery, from which +there was but one escape. + +She was hungry. It was true that, except as to some slices of bread, +smuggled to her by soft-hearted ones, she had eaten nothing for two +days. She had long ago pawned her articles of jewelry. Her clothes were +in the clutch of the beast. She would have to apply to her for garments +for the street. She must surrender. + +So she asked for her clothes and her dinner. The beast was gracious, but +chary as to giving too many garments. The truth was, the beast hoped her +boarder would not return. She had the trunk--she was sick of the mule. + +Berthe wandered toward the lower part of the city. Plainly dressed, her +carriage dignified, she was not molested, nor did she cast her eyes upon +any passer-by. She walked straight on, yet not rapidly, for there was no +purpose in her walk. Useless to seek that man upon whose wife she had +avenged herself; he had been hurried off to do penance in the country; +even if he had returned, she knew nothing of his present abode. + +Mrs. Leon was a dweller in hotels, and at this season, not in town. +Besides, Mrs. Leon could not be ignorant of what had been accomplished +by the nursery governess she had herself recommended. + +She wished now, for in truth, as she walked on, terror of possible +starvation began to haunt her, that she had carried out an often +neglected impulse to write to a man she knew, and who she believed could +help her. She would have done so before this, but the man's wife was a +friend of Mrs. Leon. This recollection had prevented her addressing him. +Yet she knew he would have helped her. He was young, he was kind. Ah! he +was adorable. + +So she walked on, thinking of that adorable man, forgetting her fear of +starvation. He had kissed her, or rather, and she smiled as she +corrected herself, she had kissed him. He had been helpless. The +innocent! + +By this time she was in Fourteenth Street. A man seeing the smile upon +her lips, stood in her path and addressed her. She moved aside and +walked on; the smile had been born of a memory sweet to her. The man +looked after her, astonished at the majestic ignoring of himself. + +Suddenly the woman stopped, as if struck. Then she started, walking +quickly, and entered a brilliantly lighted resort. + + * * * * * + +Leonard had passed a sleepless night in the train. In New York he went +to a hotel which he had never before frequented. He desired to be alone. +He had left home to think, not to seek acquaintance or distraction. + +And he thought, walking the streets of the great city until he was +footsore, and the more he thought, the less capable was he of reasoning, +the more weary he grew of thought; finally, striding onward in a dream +of incoherent fancies, that were not thoughts, but impotent efforts of a +tired brain. All day long there swayed before his eyes visions inspired +by objects seen but not noted and most incongruous. The passing glance +upon a billboard, gay with motley figures, gave birth to a picture of +living damsels, languishing in postures of inviting loveliness. He saw +no stony streets, no squalid scenes, but wandered in a Moslem heaven in +whose crystal streams Naiads bathed fair round limbs or sported in +wanton frolic in silvery cascades, anon decking with lilies the roseate +beauties of their queen. He took no heed of time or place, pacing street +after street, along the wharves, seeing neither ship nor dray; in the +Hebrew crowd of the East Side, noting nothing of the soft-eyed men with +dirty beards, nor the women wearing wigs of jute, nor the children +dancing in the streets to hand-organs, nor any of the sights of that +crowded foreign city, full of strange interest. Of the things before his +eyes he saw nothing; nor could he, being entranced by raptures which had +tried the souls of saints a thousand years ago! + +At ten o'clock at night, having eaten nothing since an early and +neglected breakfast, he stood in the street, conscious that he must eat +or faint. He entered a brilliantly lighted room where there were tables, +but which was nearly empty. + +Back of the room he saw another filled with people, decked with palms +and artificial grottoes. He entered and sat down at the first unoccupied +table. + +"Bring me a sandwich," he said to the waiter, "and a drink." + +The sandwich was brought and the drink. The latter Leonard supposed was +wine. He remembered that he had scruples against wine-drinking; had, in +fact, never tasted wine. He was too tired to care much for scruples, and +besides, he was faint, and even his scruples permitted wine in case of +illness. He swallowed the liquor, which was whiskey, at one gulp, and +commenced to eat ravenously. + +He ordered another sandwich and another drink, which was brought, this +time with a carafe of water in addition. He drank greedily of the water, +reserving his liquor, and, as ravenously as before, consumed his second +sandwich. + +Then he looked about him with more interest in his surroundings than he +had known during all that day. He felt comfortable, happy in fact. He +stretched out his legs and sipped his liquor, this time noting the +strength of the beverage, which made him cough and brought the tears to +his eyes, causing a woman to smile slyly. He smiled in return, then +looked quickly away, abashed at his own temerity in thus answering the +involuntary expression of a strange lady. This, as he looked about him, +he thought must be one of those German beer-gardens he had heard about, +but in this country had never seen. Evidently the people did not bring +their children. That was well. Beer-drinking was a bad example for +children. The women looked tired, he thought, though some were very +rosy, remarkably so, and all were tawdry. The men were not a +nice-looking set, though there were exceptions. Many were not much more +than boys, and these affected brilliant, if somewhat dirty, neckwear. +There were things about this place that offended him; principally, the +tone of the men. They lolled a good deal and smoked in the women's +faces; that was German, he supposed. The women, of whom a number were +alone, were better behaved. He noticed a waiter order one to leave the +place; that was singular, especially as she had slunk in very quietly +and had seemed very humble. Suddenly the great orchestrion commenced to +squeal and bang and clash, and soon the heads of the people were +strangely bobbing, keeping time; now the strains grew soft and +plaintive; a profound sadness crept over him as he listened to what +seemed the requiem of a dying soul. He felt the tears rising in his +eyes. + +For a long time he had been eagerly watched by a woman. Berthe could not +be sure if this were indeed the man she knew. What could he be doing +here? Half hidden behind a curtain which draped a huge column, she +watched the heaving breast of the man. Suddenly, she saw his head fall +forward, smashing a tumbler, and a cry of agony broke from him. +"Natalie, Natalie!" + +It might have been the last despairing wail of the soul doomed +thenceforward to darkness, whose requiem he had heard. To the obscene +observers and the superintendent of the place it was the cry of a +drunken man, who had no business there. + +There was no hubbub. The habitues of the place comprehended that nothing +of that sort was allowed. The man was quickly hustled into the front +room by the manager. + +"Get his hat," said this personage to a waiter. "Has he paid his bill?" +he questioned as the man brought the hat. + +"Yes, except the broken glass." + +"Damn the glass!" replied the manager, who desired to get rid of the +drunkard. "Come, young fellow, steady on your pins now and be off." + +A woman slipped her arm under Leonard's. "I will take care of him," she +said. + +The manager looked at the pair as they made their way toward the street. +"Do you know her?" he asked of an employee who had witnessed the +departure. + +"She's not a regular, sure." + +"Nor he. Well, it's not our affair," and the manager returned to his +duties. + +The two wandered off, the man's unsteady steps supported tenderly by the +woman. When the sun rose, his head rested on her bosom and her lips +hovered lovingly above his own, and the hum of the waking city, borne to +his ears, may, to him, have been the distant harmony of a paean of +victory hymned in hell. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +A DELECTABLE DISCUSSION, IN WHICH A SHAKSPERIAN MATRON IS ROUTED. + + +Natalie Claghorn had always nourished a sentiment, which with many is a +conviction, with most a hope, that man is something more than the futile +hero of a sorry comedy--not made to live merely that he may die. Hence, +religion had been a need of her being, and, though unconsciously, she +had developed a creed of her own, vague, no doubt, from the positive +standpoint, but one which excluded those essential elements of the faith +of her husband, Hell and the Devil; grim inventions these which, while +imbibing wisdom at the paternal knee, she had learned were mere memories +of ancient Oriental mythologies. This view, in so far as she had given +the matter any thought, she had supposed the view commonly held, and +universally held among the cultured. Recently, indeed, there had been a +moment in which even with her bodily eyes she had, as she had then +believed, beheld the terrors and the torments of the damned; but as many +men and women, who believe not in ghosts, have nevertheless seen these +dwellers of the shades, and yet in less receptive phases of the mind +have been able to dismiss their visitants to the shadows from which they +were evoked, so Natalie had been able to discard belief in the reality +of her vision. Nevertheless, though incredulous, he who has seen a ghost +remains impressed, and the memory of her experience naturally recurred +with her theological studies, serving to emphasize the horrible, rather +than the absurd, aspect of her acquirements. + +Her desire to know had been honest, and she imputed honesty to others; +hence, when Leonard, with pen and voice, asseverated his belief in a +creed which must render paternity impossible to any being with a +conscience, she had been confounded by the attitude he presented. She +was not aware that between her husband and herself the sources of +sympathy had always been shallow, and she was quite as ignorant of +theological frenzy as she was of the knowledge of masculine passion. She +had loved him; and she had loved Mrs. Joe, Paula, the Marquise, her maid +Berthe; in fact, she had loved, and still loved, humanity, as far as she +knew it, and it was thus that she had loved her husband, though, +doubtless, in his case, this gentle flame had burned with more intensity +than in others. + +Though grieved that Leonard had left her without saying good-bye, yet +she felt that he had acted wisely, in that he had given her time to +think without the disturbing sense of his presence in his repellant +mood. And during this period an incident occurred which aided her in +finding the only solution of the problems which vexed her. + +It was not to be expected of the Hampton matrons that they continue +their tolerant attitude, with regard to Mrs. Leonard Claghorn. Her +continued languid health after the birth of her child, the subsequent +bereavement and absence, these had afforded an excuse for neglect; but +now there was solicitude, and in a certain circle of dames, which met +every fortnight to discuss Shakspere, but whereat other subjects, as +possessing more of novelty, were occasionally considered, some rather +severe strictures were made, in reference to Professor Claghorn's +apparent inability to convert his wife--he who had so audaciously, if +not successfully, coped with Brigston. + +"Brilliancy is less effective than earnestness," opined Mrs. Waring, +wife of Professor Waring, whose forte was Hebrew, and who was noted for +great erudition, a large family and a feeble intellect. + +"In the long run, no doubt," assented Mrs. Professor Flint. "But surely, +she is not really unconverted!" + +"She certainly hides her light. There are times--I hope I am not +uncharitable--when I wonder, suppose she were a Jesuit!" + +"Awful! She's French; her mother was noble--of the old nobility--and the +old nobility are all Jesuits." + +"And a Jesuit will stick at nothing in the way of deception. It's a +terrible possibility!" + +Natalie found apologists, notably Mrs. Tremaine, who maintained that +there were no female Jesuits, and who defended the absent, partly +because she was a spirited and generous woman, partly because, at this +particular period, she experienced an unusually distinct impression of +her own importance by reason of an acknowledged claim to the admiration +of the other Shaksperians. Even Mrs. Waring, the mother of ten, was +inclined to look with indulgence, if not with envy, upon this champion, +though she whispered to Mrs. Flint that "after a half dozen, Mary +Tremaine would change her note." + +However that may be, Mrs. Tremaine's note remained on this occasion +triumphant, and she glowed with victory, and also with good intentions; +for she resolved to warn Natalie that the gossips were preparing for a +feast, "and," said the lady to herself, "it must be stopped; never allow +a tiger a taste of blood," which mental exclamation clearly indicates +the exaltation of the lady's spirit. + +In this spirit, as soon as the Shaksperian seance was over, she started +for the Morley mansion, full of excellent intentions and the proud +possessor of a secret already known to the wives of all the professors +of the Seminary, except Natalie; and which, if confided to the latter, +would indicate that friendly feeling by which she was really actuated, +and thus pave the way to the warning she wished to give. She was also +impelled by the pardonable desire to further impart the information +already widely diffused; and which, in fact, could not remain much +longer a secret, unless the complacent lady decided on complete +seclusion for some months. + +"Yes," she said, "I suppose it will be noticeable soon. Professor +Tremaine is so proud; he actually struts. He hopes for a boy." + +"Unfortunate woman!" exclaimed Natalie. "How can you smile?" + +"Dear Mrs. Claghorn, I forgot your own recent loss. Believe me, +time----" + +"But, have I understood? You hope for a baby--you a Christian wife?" + +"Why not I--a Christian wife, as you say?" was the answer of the +visitor, who was both shocked and puzzled by the expression of her +hostess. + +"I do not understand," exclaimed Natalie hopelessly; then suddenly: "How +can you dare? Have you no compassion, no fear? You can smile, believing +that an awful calamity hangs over you!" + +"Awful calamity!" echoed the bewildered visitor, perhaps a little +alarmed by the speaker's energy. + +"Is it not? Have I understood aright? Are you going to have a baby?" + +"I have said so. Why the fact should affect you so strangely is a +mystery to me." + +"Do you believe this book?" and Natalie seized the well-known volume +with its blue cover. + +"Certainly, I believe the Confession." + +"And your husband?" + +"Does he not teach it?" + +"And believing that this book is true, knowing that the furnaces of hell +are choked with sinners--knowing this, you and your husband welcome the +birth of a human being! God help me, and you, Mrs. Tremaine, forgive me, +but I cannot understand these things. Why! you believe that your baby +may be damned!" + +"How dare you say such things? My child will not be damned. Ah! You poor +woman, I see. You have brooded over your own baby's death, and have been +dwelling on horrors. I have heard of such cases. Dear Mrs. Claghorn, +dismiss such dreadful folly from your mind. Babies are not damned; +nobody has believed that for years." + +"_I_ do not fear for my child, nor for yours. But you--you cannot be +sure he will die. He may grow up--what then?" + +"Then he must take his chance," said the would-be mother, though her +face grew white. "We must all trust in God's grace." + +"But he lends His grace to his Elect only. Unless your infant was chosen +from before creation, he _must_ be damned. You say this book is true, +and yet you dare to have a child who may burn in hell! How can you +commit such wickedness?" In her energy Natalie had arisen, and now stood +before the unhappy matron in what to her seemed a threatening attitude. + +"I--I--do not comprehend," she faltered. "You have no right to speak +thus to me." + +"No right! Have I not the right of humanity, the right of a +child-bearing woman?" + +"But----" + +"I had some excuse, I did not know. But you knew--and yet you dared!" + +"I didn't," whimpered the lady. "It was the Professor--it was God's +work. You talk horribly." + +"God's work! And you lend yourself to God's work! You could have +died--anything, rather than be an instrument of wickedness in God's +hands!" + +Mrs. Tremaine breathed a great sigh of relief when she found herself +safely on the outside of the Morley mansion. She sat for awhile on a +bench in the Square, and when she had in part recovered her equanimity, +she went slowly homeward, pondering over the difficulties which present +themselves to those who try to do good in secret. + +Yet she had done good; for when Natalie beheld this matron in all the +pride and joy of approaching maternity, she saw in the spectacle a +living denial of the frightful dogma which, if believed, must have +turned the woman's triumph to despair. The orthodox lady served to +demonstrate the fact that the upholders of hell do not believe in hell; +for the conclusion to which Natalie had arrived was sound: The woman +that believes in hell dare not bear a child. + +Leonard's continuing absence afforded time for contemplation of this +discovery and its consequences; among others the gradual conviction +which subjected Leonard, with thousands of others, to the accusation of +maintaining palpable falsehood as the living truth. No other conclusion +was possible in the face of the fact that humanity can judge only by the +aid of human faculties, and that these must, perforce, pronounce eternal +punishment incompatible with justice, and preordination to everlasting +misery as impossible to a God of mercy. Her training made it difficult +for her to understand the palliation of the offense of those who +maintained the paradoxes which denied their actions. She was not aware +that the minds of such as Leonard had, from infancy, been receptacles +into which had been emptied all the follies bred from the meditations of +those who profess the mission of being interpreters of Omniscience; nor +could she fairly estimate the partisan rage which carried such men, +engaged in controversy, even beyond their convictions. She did, however, +gather some comprehension of these extenuating forces from the further +researches offered by Leonard's table, on which were strewn numerous +pamphlets referring to the late theological war. The tone of rancor +which pervaded the effusions of the religious antagonists was repellant, +but she was shrewd enough to see in so much sound and fury evidences of +weakness; and when she came to the theologian who lauded the "beautiful +faith" of that Christian father who demolished his pagan adversary with +the words, "I believe, _because_ it is impossible," she closed the book, +and thenceforth avoided further contemplation of the high mysteries of +theology. + +She could not but condemn Leonard, though she would not dwell upon the +thought. To her, as to Dr. Stanley, belief in the impossible was +impossible, and, therefore, pretense of such belief dishonest; yet, +since these pretenders were not otherwise dishonest, there must be some +ground for their attitude, which to her must remain a mystery, but which +ought to cause her to hesitate in judging. So, she would not blame +Leonard; she perceived now, that her own conduct merited reproach. She +was ignorant of her own cruelty and her own absurdity, and would have +resented those terms as applied to her attitude; but she acknowledged +with sorrow that she had not been kind, and for her unkindness she +craved forgiveness. + +Very early one morning she started to walk to the cemetery, going by way +of the shore, and glorying in the grandeur of the ocean and the breeze +that came, health-laden, from its bosom. She stood and looked upon the +broad expanse of blue, recalling the day when Leonard had plunged into +the raging waters to rescue the boy. That effort had been in vain, as to +its intended object, but had it never been made she would not be walking +here a wife. She had loved him before, but not with a love that would +have urged her to grant him the boon of kisses; but, fresh from that +brave deed he was a hero, had taken the hero's meed from her lips, and +in that act had sealed the mastery which his courage had won. She gazed +long upon the waters, listening to the surge and noting the glint of the +sun, tinting with rose the billows rolling toward her. She sighed and, +pressing her lips together, turned her back upon the waves and hurried +on. It was as though she had resolved not to see some fair vision +suggested by the rose-tint in the feathery edging of the billows. + +When she entered the beautiful cemetery the birds were chirping in the +trees, only their joyous trills breaking the silence of the city of the +dead. She sat down beside the grave of her boy. + +And here, recalling her recent thoughts and her condemnation of others +who were dishonest in their attitude toward God, she saw the need of +honesty for herself in all things. If there were facts in her life which +she had been willing to ignore, she must look them in the face and deal +with them as best she might, being honest always. If, in marrying +Leonard, she had striven to escape the longing for a love denied her, +and in so doing had cheated her husband, she must admit her fault and +resolve to make every reparation in her power. If she had chosen to +believe that she had craved religion, and in her husband had seen its +embodiment, while in truth she had craved an earthly love, and had in +marriage weakly sought refuge from her shame, she must even admit her +fault and do what might be in her power to avert its consequences. Not +in the futile attempt to deny hearing to her conscience, to murder her +reason, but in every wifely allegiance. Thus far she had wofully failed +in such allegiance. Even before the last sad breach between her husband +and herself she had allowed estrangement to come between them, and had +so exclusively devoted herself to her child that Leonard had been +secondary. It was true that she had not consciously intended this, but +she had been willing that it be so. Her consciousness of wrong warmed +her heart toward her absent husband, and filled it with longing to +reconsecrate herself to him. He would surely come to-day! As she sped +homeward she was more and more persuaded of it, and, finally, believed +that on her arrival she would find him waiting for her. As she neared +the house she trembled with expectation; she longed to clasp her arms +about his neck and falter her prayer for pardon, and assure him of her +love. There should be no shadows between them in future. She had dared +to look truth in the face, and, lo! it was no longer truth. All the +foolish, sinful longings of the past, persistent because she had refused +to recognize them, had been dissipated by the light of day. The present +moment was to live forever. Henceforth, Leonard, and only he, should +dwell in her heart of hearts. + +In her agitation she fumbled at the door-lock, then desisted, for from +the hallway she heard the firm step of a man coming to the door. Her +heart beat wildly; another moment and she would be forgiven. + +The door was suddenly opened. With a glad cry Natalie spread wide her +own, and in the same instant was clasped in the arms of Mark Claghorn. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +WHEN MANHOOD IS LOST WOMAN'S TIME IS COME. + + +In the misery of awakening to a consciousness of existing facts, Leonard +could see no possibility of extrication from the bog of degradation into +which he had fallen. With excellent intentions on the part of his +pastors and masters, he had been trained to dishonest depreciation of +his own strength, and he was now without confidence or courage. His days +had been without guile, and the unaccustomed aspect of guilt overwhelmed +him with hopeless terror. The precepts instilled from infancy thundered +direful threats, dwelling lingeringly on the curses of Omnipotence; and +in the moment of the acquirement of the dread knowledge that he had been +self-deceived, that the Grace of God had not been his, that he, like +other doomed and defrauded sinners, had mistaken those "common +operations of the spirit," that even non-elect may have, for the +effectual call addressed only to the few chosen from eternity, and which +to all others is a monstrous mockery--in the moment of this awful +revelation he felt all the suffocating horror of that which he had +taught as truth: that for the weak there is no Father, no path but the +path of evil. + +The woman looked upon the exhibition of misery thus presented with +compassion tinged with scorn, yet with bewilderment. She had never seen +a sinner like this before; but instinctively she felt that when manhood +is lost woman's time has come. + +"_Voyons, cheri_," she said, "what is it all about?" and she drew his +head to her bosom. + +He grasped at the offered sympathy as a starving man may grasp a loaf. +The picture he presented was not adorable, but there was truth in it, +if, also, some unconscious comedy; and her compassion was not without +sincerity, though his broken story was of less interest to her than the +simplicity of the narrator. She felt that she had been fashioned fit +for this man's needs; and while she soothed him, his spirits rose a +little, and he experienced a sort of satisfaction that, since he had +taken this direction, he had gone amazingly far. See, now, what Natalie +had done! + +They rescued Berthe's clothes and left the boarding-house, and were soon +quartered in a small French hotel, bathed and well dressed. The +surroundings were cheerful; the lunch table, with its bright glassware +and silver, white napery and bottle of champagne in its bucket of ice, +was inviting; the woman was gay, yet still compassionate and tender. +With the first glass of wine Leonard felt actually happy; and as he sat +opposite the well-clad woman with the great dark eyes, now languid and +inviting, now bright with challenge, and listened to the prattle, which +women of her nation can make so engaging, he, looking back upon the past +week, was enraptured by the contrast. Of such as she really was he had +no perception; he could no more estimate her character than could the +veriest college freshman, weary with knowledge of the world. Her +brightness of intellect was apparent, and there was neither coarseness +nor ignorance of amenities in her bearing. She had said to the mistress +of the boarding-house that she was a "lady," and she fitted sufficiently +the ordinary acceptation of a much-abused term. She told her story (with +the essential suppressions and variations), and he saw in her one who +had suffered from the injustice of the world. She admitted being in the +last stress of poverty, and confessed to having suffered actual hunger, +thanking him, with the first sheen of tears in her eyes, for rescuing +her clothes from the clutches of the hawk landlady. + +All these confidences, sweetened by moderate draughts of champagne--for +Berthe preached moderation, and economy as well--insensibly disposed the +man to further confidences of his own, and she listened eagerly to the +tale, of which she had heard disjointed fragments in his first outbreak +of despair. + +"It is all plain, _cheri_" was her comment. "Mademoiselle--I mean your +wife--never loved you." + +"I know that," was the gloomy answer. + +"Ah, but why not? You so beautiful a man, so good!" and she knelt beside +him and put her arms about his neck. + +"So beautiful! That is a matter of taste. So good!" he sighed, but let +his head droop on her shoulder all the same. + +"Any woman must love you," she murmured. "But one thing could hinder." + +"And that thing?" + +"That she first loved another," she whispered. + +He was silent. + +"We all knew it in France," she said. + +"The Marquise?" he asked huskily. + +"The Marquise, assuredly. Why, we ran away from her because of it." + +"Tell me all you know," he said, after awhile. + +The woman's heart fluttered; here were her tools. She could keep him, +and she would. Kneeling thus beside him, her arms about him, her body +close to his, his cheek against her own, he was hers. No woman should +take him from her. Rights? Bah! Hers were the rights of conquest, and of +the fierce demands which bade her hold what she had gained. There were +no other rights. + +"She loved him always," she murmured. "It is all told in that." Yet she +told much more; of how the Marquise had always suspected, of wanderings +in Paris with no other chaperone than herself; on which occasions, +knowing what was expected of her, and unwilling to spoil the pretty game +she watched, she had discreetly remained as much as possible in the +background. "He was generous and gave me presents--but, _ciel_! Why +shouldn't he with a gold mine?" They had especially affected churches, +and picture galleries where they could sit in secluded nooks, and where +Natalie's attendant could easily lose herself temporarily. "The Marquise +raved furiously," added the narrator, "but she would have raved more +furiously still had she known all I knew." + +"She never loved me," faltered Leonard. + +"But I loved you the moment I saw you. It was hard to have you leave me +after that kiss. Tell me it was hard for you." + +"It was hard; better had I never left you." + +"And now you never will. You have made me love you; and I,--I have made +you love me; is it not so? Is it wicked? Ah, no; it is good, it is +good." + +To him who heard the murmured words and was enveloped in the tenderness +she shed upon him; who felt her lips upon his own, and who, in the +contact, found sweet content--to him, this was a foretaste of the life +that might be, if he had the courage to embrace it. He was like some +worn and weary pilgrim in arid sands who, visioning an oasis, lies him +down by a green brookside, rests in the fresh breezes, listens to the +rippling waters, sees their sparkle and inhales the fragrance of the +flowers, and so is lulled to fatal languor, unconscious that all is a +mere mirage. + +To her he was no mere wayside victim, but in his resemblance to him +whose picture she had held toward heaven in the church, a reminder of +the happy days when first she had known love. She longed desperately to +retain him, and though she feared the dark gulf of misery in which he +had found her, with him she would have even faced it again, rather than +safety with another; so that her cajolements had the grace of sincerity, +though the parting, which he knew must come, remained constantly the +dark background of the present. It may seem that to leave the woman +required little heroism; that whatever charms she might possess for him, +that those of dignity, of worthy citizenship, of respect, of all that +even worldly men hold dear, would allure him with greater power. All of +which is reasonable, and, no doubt, such considerations do often operate +in cases where discreet sinners, having sinned in secret, quietly emerge +from the bog of evil-doing, cleanse their garments and, animated by good +resolutions, go forth among their fellows, keeping their own counsel; +but these are sinners of experience. The innocent man, like the innocent +woman, falls far when he falls; such men sacrifice present respect and +hope for the future, choosing ruin; and while there are numerous roads +to that goal, the most frequented is that one where woman roams. + +But whatever heroism may have been necessary, this man possessed it. He +turned his face resolutely from the allurements of the present, and, if +trembling, faced the future. + +"It cannot be otherwise," he said, falteringly. "I do not leave you to +return to happiness. I might find that with you. I go because both for +you and for me it is right. We may have years of life before us; let us +use them for repentance. In this lies our only hope." + +"Do you know what my life must be?" + +"One of better deeds. It is not for me," he said, sorrowfully, "to try +to win you to high thoughts. That would seem impious, and would inspire +you with just contempt for me and for those teachings I have disgraced. +But I urge you to consider these things. Seek counsel; I can give you +the means; or, if you prefer, go to a priest of your own church." + +She smiled bitterly. Knowing his own deadly depression, he could read +her thoughts; he implored her not to despair, pointing out that that +which was a solemn obligation, her temporal welfare, would be surely +fulfilled by him. "Our unholy union," he said, with sad simplicity, +"entails upon me the duty of making due provision for you. This will be +a matter for immediate attention; promise me to remain quietly here +until you hear from me." + +And so it was arranged, he giving her money for present needs. He +watched her while she packed his valise, touched by wifely attentions, +the lack of which, he told himself, had long been a grievance, of which +now he knew the cause. He looked about him, noting the embellishments +which her taste and her training had enabled her to add to the room, +even in the short period of their occupancy, and the sense of a +justifying grievance grew stronger. + +"There's room for this," she said, holding up a bottle of champagne, the +last of a series, and unused because she had insisted upon moderation. +He watched her place it in the bag. He had resolved never again to drink +wine, but he would not refuse what she gave him, denying herself. + +They said good-bye. He left her, promising soon to see her, and in his +heart solemnly resolving that they should never meet again. The lie was +but one more added to his catalogue of sins, and had been necessary. As +to that provision for her needs, he would make it generously. He could +not as yet see how details were to be arranged, but for the present +there were other things to think of. A man cannot suddenly make the +acquaintance of himself without paying some attention to the stranger. + +He remained a day longer in the city, and then, absolutely unable to +bear solitude, and with a manful struggle to avoid returning to the +beckoning comfort he had left, he started on the dreaded journey +homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE. + + +As he left the train in the early morning and crossed the Square toward +his house he was, notwithstanding a half-defiant carriage, assumed to +hide the cringing of his heart, probably the most miserable man in +Hampton. He sat down upon the bench where he had rested after his first +meeting with Berthe and, recalling that meeting, remembered how he had +striven to give a jaunty trend to his thoughts, and had tried to +persuade himself that the kissing episode was but a venial misstep, +having indeed little of dignity, but even less of sin. Behold, now, to +what it had led him!--that deed in which he had actually gloried, seeing +himself, because of it, somewhat more a man of the world than was +suspected, with experiences concerning which honor bound him to secrecy +as it did men of experience; wherefore he had despised the blabbers of +his college days, who either kissed not at all, yet boasted of such +kissing, or, displaying equal ingenuousness and greater meanness, +bragged of actual kisses. He recalled all this with real sorrow, not +unmingled with contempt for the callow youth who had sat here indulging +in boyish fancies, the wickedness whereof was surpassed only by their +shallowness. It was then, he thought, that his unconscious yet +diabolical arts upon the woman, destined to be his victim, had +commenced. Though his present misery was as great as he could bear and +his penitence sincere, nevertheless, there was an underlying +consciousness, and pride in the fact, of more than ordinary fascinating +powers, in respect of women. She had loved him from the moment she had +seen him, and had loved him to her own destruction! Though he regarded +with horror that which he believed himself to have compassed, yet the +underlying complacency was there. All these years she had been faithful +to his memory. Alas for her weakness! alas for the fate which had made +him, in respect to her, a villain! He truly repented,--was he not bowed +to the ground in humiliation and sorrow for his sin? Yet, was he wholly +responsible, he who had, in ignorance, exercised seductive powers, +possessed in ignorance? + +The inner being of this man, of noble outward form, was not cast in +heroic mould, such moulds being seldom used in the fashioning of our +neighbors; yet he was no unusual product, being the inevitable result of +various influences, for most of which he was not responsible. An +idolized child, a boy of wondrous promise as of wondrous beauty, a youth +completely filling all promises of boyhood, early called to the service +of Heaven, and so, somewhat set apart and cherished with a care +befitting a sacred vessel, to be guarded from every rude touch lest its +perfection be endangered,--thus he had been fitted for the world. Every +natural healthy instinct had been bent and distorted by the loving hands +of ignorance, while equally natural impulses had been ignored as +unwholesome weeds, which would find no place in a nature dedicated and +cultivated for Heaven. He had been esteemed as somewhat higher than +ordinary humanity, while human vices had been nourished in him so that +they bore blossoms so fair to look upon that they were as virtues. His +innate vanity had been so fostered that it had become the central +product of his moral being, permeating every thought, mingled with every +act. His most patent and engaging graces had been developed by this +vice. His frankness, his amiability, his generosity, his mental +aptitude, were all means for winning the esteem he craved, and had been +employed, in fact, to that end. They were real virtues. He was in +goodness all he seemed to be. The kindness of heart for which he was +praised and loved, even this excellence aided in the nurture of that +self-complacency which led him to ascribe the woman's undoing to his +witchery, rather than to her willingness. + +As he raised his eyes and caught sight of his home, and knew that he +must enter the house, the subtle consolation which had formed the +undercurrent of his despondency was forgotten, or, perhaps, its utter +worthlessness for the moment recognized. The whole horrible load of +regret weighed again upon him, crushing his spirit. There was no comfort +now in any phase of his reflections. He had gone forth from the home of +his innocent boyhood, as of his worthy manhood, unhappy, indeed, but +claiming and receiving the respect of all his fellows. Now, he must +creep back, so vile a creature that he dreaded to meet the eyes even of +his servants. + +As to his wife, though he had left her without good-bye, and though +there had been estrangement between them, he knew that he must meet her +face to face, and while he dreaded the meeting, still he longed for it +and longed to throw himself upon his knees before her and confess. As to +that which had estranged them, it seemed a trifle to him now. Let her +have her will; if therein there was to be punishment for him, was he not +willing to do penance all his days? As to those confidences made by +Berthe, while he believed them, he believed only what he had been told. +As to seriously thinking of actual guilt in connection with Natalie, she +was too truly estimated by him, and he too truly innocent, still, to +harbor base suspicions. But he knew that she had not loved him, and in +the dismal oppression caused by his own misdeeds this conviction created +a distinct and sharp pain, and yet it had its own alleviation. He, too, +had something to forgive, and did forgive, even now, before forgiveness +had been granted him. Yes, he would meet her face to face, and there +should be repentance between them and, as each had done wrong, so each +would do all that could be done in reparation, and if the sacrifice she +had demanded of him be still required, he would make it. + +And thus, while Natalie, in the cemetery, had seen the way to +reconciliation with her husband, and had recognized that she had wronged +him, and in that recognition had found in her heart a greater love for +him than she had known before, so he with similar thoughts, though more +confusedly and with less honesty, though not consciously dishonest, +slowly made his way toward the house. He entered by means of his +latchkey, meeting nobody, and went at once to the library. It was still +early: doubtless Natalie was in her room. He was not sorry for a +respite. + +He was faint and felt the need of refreshment. No doubt, the maids were +about, so he went toward the bell, then drew back, recognizing in his +action his dread of meeting any occupant of the house. Then he +remembered that in his valise was a small bottle of champagne. He was +not sorry, now, for Berthe's foresight, and in his heart thanked her. He +recalled how pleasantly this wine had affected him, how it had given him +courage, and how his horrible depression had vanished under its +influence. Notwithstanding his resolve to resume his old practice of +abstinence in regard to wine, he was glad that he had this chance +bottle, for he had never needed courage more than now. He wished he had +some food, for he had eaten but little for many hours; the wine would +serve until he had the courage to ask for food. + +While he was opening his bottle the front-door bell rang. The library, +its doorway hung with heavy curtains, faced the entrance to the house. +Leonard, peeping between the curtains, saw Mark Claghorn admitted and +ushered by the servant into the drawing-room. + +The sight of Mark, whom he had supposed in Europe, aroused his anger. He +hated Mark as one who had gained a love that should have been his own. +Under the circumstances he was not sorry that his presence in the house +was unknown. Mark, who was noted as an early riser, had probably ridden +over from Stormpoint on some trifling errand, and, soon after Natalie +appeared, would doubtless leave the house. + +And so he waited, thirstily quaffing the champagne and wishing he had a +biscuit. He tried not to think of the visitor in the drawing-room, but +found that effort vain, thinking of him, in fact, with fast-rising +anger, until he was on the point of seeking the man to force a quarrel +on him which should banish the intruder from the house forever. + +He was arrested in this intention by hearing Mark emerge from the +drawing-room and walk quickly to the front door. Leonard peeped through +the curtains and saw his wife, with her arms outspread, fall upon Mark's +breast, and heard her cry aloud: + +"My darling, my darling, welcome home!" and with upturned face she drew +Mark's downward, kissing his lips as she had never kissed the watcher. + +Who staggered backward, sinking into a chair, dazed as by a blow. + +Her face had been illumined, glowing with happiness. Her dancing eyes, +her outspread arms, her lips upturned, her gladness unrestrained, so +impatient in her longing that she could not wait for greater privacy +than the hall--in these he had seen a woman never seen by him before. +This was Mark's welcome home. What was his to be? + +Great tears streamed down his face; of wounded vanity, of love and trust +betrayed, of growing fury. His moods followed fast one upon another. Now +sunk in profounder depths of sorrow than any yet sounded, now raging +with frantic lust for vengeance upon the woman and her lover. + +Even while chaotic fancies whirled in his brain he could hear the murmur +of their talk, ecstatic dalliance which he would interrupt. + +Yes, he would disconcert their cooing, cover the pair with humiliation, +eject the glib intruder and bring the woman to her knees. + +But he could not move. He was chained to his chair. A horrible +fluttering of his heart made him gasp for breath, his head fell back, +his face and lips were white. The want of food, the nervous depression, +the rage and exhaustion, all intensified by the sharp and unaccustomed +fillip of the wine, had done their work. At first it was fainting, then +came slumber. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +SHE CRIED ALOUD SHE WAS A GUILTY CREATURE. + + +For a moment Mark had yielded to the rapture of the first pure pressure +of lips he had ever known. From the window he had seen Natalie advancing +toward the house, and had involuntarily gone to meet her. The sight of +her had quickened his blood, but if, for an instant, he had reveled in +the bliss of the welcome she had granted him, almost in the same instant +he recognized and regretted that he had dishonored her in accepting +caresses not intended for him. + +He drew her somewhat hastily into the drawing-room. Before he could say +a word she had recognized him. + +"Mark," she exclaimed, amazed, and then a rosy blush spread over her +face. + +"I startled you," he said. "It was absurd in me, unpardonable." + +"I thought it was----" her voice faltered. + +"Leonard, of course. Now welcome me for myself," and he took her hand +and shook it warmly, after a proper, cousinly fashion, perhaps sadly +noting the contrast, but striving to shield her embarrassment. + +He succeeded, as far as appearances went. But both were conscious of +emotion, though each strove gallantly to hide it. + +"I am so surprised," she faltered. "You must have made a remarkable +passage. Your mother did not expect you yet. In fact, Paula----" + +"I took an earlier steamer than I had originally intended, and had a +quick passage besides." + +"How glad they must have been at Stormpoint!" + +"They seemed so. I arrived last night." + +"I am sorry Leonard is not home yet. I expected him this morning. He has +been in New York." + +"So the maid told me. Of course, I should not have disturbed you at +this hour had I been aware of his absence. I rode over, and knowing that +Leonard is, like myself, an early bird, thought I would say +good-morning." + +"I am very glad you did, Mark." + +"Yet, it is always foolish to run outside of conventional grooves. The +maid told me you were gone for a walk, and so I waited." + +"Which was right. I am glad you waited." + +Plainly she was uneasy and so, feeling rather foolish, he explained that +in order to fulfil the duty of breakfasting at Stormpoint he must be +going. Her suggestion that he remain and breakfast with her was made +rather faintly. "Good-bye, Natalie," he said. "Remember me to Leonard. +Next time I shall call in proper form." + +And so he rode away, watched a little while by her, who then went to her +own now belated breakfast. She sat at the table, eating hardly at all, +seemingly lost in thought. Then she went slowly upstairs to her own +room. + +She sat down upon the bed, suddenly catching her breath, as one stifling +a sob. Then she twitched her body with an impatient shake, like a +naughty child. Then she rose quickly and began to rectify or complete +various small duties, neglected by the maid, who had arranged the +chamber while she had been out. Ornaments were to be lifted and dusted, +pillows more carefully smoothed, chairs to be moved an inch forward then +replaced. Mirrors to be wiped clear of invisible dust, but not, for some +inscrutable reason, to be looked into; in short, pretended duty must be +indulged in--a poor pretense, which died away as she sank into a chair +and, with listless hands lying in her lap, permitted thought to have its +way. + +Had she known him or not? Of course she had not known him. Not even when +(here she blushed and her lips parted slightly)----She was angry at her +impetuosity, honestly angry. It was silly, but she had no other reproach +to make to herself. It had not been her fault, coming from the sunny +street, that she had not recognized the man who had advanced so eagerly +to meet her,--the last person she could have expected to see in her own +house. It would be absurd to feel more than passing annoyance at such a +contretemps. Only a morbid conscience could find reproach for an +episode in which there was no fault, which naturally she regretted---- + +No! She did _not_ regret. Had her heart not fluttered with joy every +moment since it had happened? Was it true or was it not--she did not +know, but, alas, she wished it true--that for one brief instant, ere he +had released her, she had known him and had been happy? Happy! What a +barren word was "happy." + +Her thoughts wandered far--farther than ever before. The secret casket +in her heart, wherein heretofore they had been hidden, was opened, and +they rushed forth, to roam in regions forbidden, yet so fair that her +feeble protests were unheeded; and she smiled upon them, these bright +children of fancy, wandering with them in the paradise where Love has +made his home. She closed her eyes and strove to realize again the brief +ecstasy of an hour ago. She knew--she must have known--in whose arms she +had been enfolded. She wished it so; it must be so. Again she felt his +beating heart against her own, his arms once more about her, his breast +pressed close to hers. "Mark," she whispered, stretching forth her arms +and pouting lips as one prepares for meeting other lips---- + +The morning grew old, and she still sat thinking of many things. She +knew that she loved the man that had left her, with a love that must be +his, and his only, shared by no other. She had known it as she had that +morning stood upon the strand, seeing in the fleeting rainbows of the +spray pictures of a life that might have been, but which could never be. +She had turned her back upon the vision, well knowing why she turned +away. She had seen it again in the cemetery and had denied it, bidding +it begone forever; and she had met it on the threshold of her home, no +longer a vision, but a fact so rapturous and so mighty that she dared no +longer deny the truth. She loved him; she had always loved him. + +She sat long, dreaming her pleasant dreams, which only slowly merged +with the facts with which she was environed. Very gradually the full +import of her thoughts came home to her, but it came surely, disclosing +an abyss so evil and so deep that she was appalled, and sinking upon +her knees she cried aloud that she was a guilty creature, and prayed +fervently and long for aid to be that which she had only that morning +resolved to be, a faithful wife in thought as in deed. + +At last she went downstairs. Entering the library, she discovered her +husband. + +He still slept, the deep sleep of exhaustion. She watched him, noting +the careworn face, the disheveled dress. To her he looked like a man who +had passed through a crisis of illness, he was so changed. + +And now the regret and penitence for all the wrong she had done him +pressed upon her as a heavy weight. She was his wife, yet had driven him +from her side. She was his wife, yet had, within an hour, dreamed her +dreams of love and happiness in which he had no share. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A GOLDEN BRIDGE ACROSS AN ABYSS OF SHAME. + + +When Leonard awoke to find her bending over him, the anxiety in her eyes +looked to him like fear. He had no perception of the fact that hours had +passed since in the meeting in the hall he had seen the same eyes +dancing with the light of joy, and had heard from the drawing-room the +fond murmurs of forbidden love. In his first awakening the scene he had +witnessed and the murmurs he had heard swayed before his eyes and +sounded still in his ears. Fresh from dalliance with her lover, she +might well tremble to find her husband here! With this thought +uppermost, he staggered to his feet. + +She started back. He glared upon her with a gaze so furious that she was +in truth afraid. + +For the burden of her guilty dream weighed heavily upon her, justifying +the hatred in his eyes, a hatred born of the ascription of all his woes +to her, and while she saw abhorrence, the suffering he had endured was +no less plainly written in his haggard face, accusing her even as she +accused herself. Her sins against this man, her husband, the father of +her dead child, crushed her with the burden of the humiliation born of +them. + +"My husband!" In her self-abasement she sank upon her knees. The action +was instinctive in her of Gallic training; to Leonard, bred to less +dramatic display of emotion, it was proof of guilt far deeper than he +had until now suspected. + +"Get up," he said harshly, and taking her by the arm he led her to the +doorway, pushing her from the room and, with unconscious violence, +almost throwing her against the opposite wall. He returned to the room +and rang the bell. His rudeness had given him a sense of mastery in his +own house, and had dissipated his dread of meeting the servants. He +asked the maid if breakfast would soon be ready, and was surprised to +learn that it was long past noon. + +Ordering a meal to be prepared he went upstairs, boldly and with +something not unlike a swagger in the perception that there were sinners +as bad as he, and having bathed, being clothed in fresh garments, and +having eaten almost ravenously, he felt, he said to himself, like a new +man. + +Which indeed he was, if new thoughts make a new man. That dreadful load +of regret for his own misdeeds had been lifted from his shoulders. His +violence toward his wife had somewhat shocked himself, and while +attending to his physical needs, he had had time to regret his hasty +outbreak; and this fact led him to resolve to consider the situation +calmly and judicially. + +To know all is, if the French adage be true, to pardon all, which is +perhaps the reason why we find it easier to forgive our own sins than +those of others. We presumably know what motives actuated us in +evil-doing, and being aware of the strength of the force that drove us, +we are conscious of the fact that had the incentive to sin been less +powerful than our rectitude we would not have been guilty. In other +words, we sin because we can't help sinning, a logical and soothing +conclusion, converting our wickedness into misfortune and rendering us +objects of self-commiseration rather than of self-condemnation. + +But in that contemplation of the iniquity of others, to which +circumstances sometimes impel us, and which is always so painful, the +strength of temptation which we have not personally experienced is less +obvious, while at the same time the sense of our own rectitude is +naturally in the ascendant. And as, in such contemplation, our judgment +is inevitably swayed by our morality in its sternest mood, especially if +the crimes under consideration have wronged ourselves, our indignation +is naturally fervent. It is also true that our vision is clarified, our +memory sharpened, and we recall incidents, now corroborative of guilt, +though heretofore unremarked, or regarded as innocent. + +Leonard recalled so many of such incidents that at last nearly every +remembered act of his wife assumed a semblance of guilt. There were +those visits to churches mentioned by Berthe, the woman who truly loved +him, and who, doubtless, had minimized the truth to spare him, and the +same habit had been indulged in after marriage. It was not to pray that +she went to the churches; he remembered that she had herself said so. +No; it was to dream of the old unhallowed meetings in the hallowed +precincts. To dream! Why not to meet her lover? During much of their +sojourn in Paris, Mark had been supposed to be in London--what was a +passage between London and Paris to Mark? He remembered now that in +Natalie's bearing toward himself there had always been a vague and +undescribable something which he could not define, but which he had +felt. It was easy now to fix the date of the commencement of this +aloofness (he had found this word for it); it had been during the visit +in Paris. He recalled a thousand instances with which to torture his +mind and prove his suspicions true. The aloofness had increased; after +the birth of the child it had even been noticed by others--and then as a +blow came the conviction that the inferences she had drawn from his +belief in hell and her consequent resolve to live a celibate life were +all pretense, a ghastly role played in obedience to her lover's command. + +As this hideous thought took possession of him all semblance of judicial +summing up was put aside. He laid his head between his hands and wept +aloud in his great misery. He had loved her; she had been the light of +his life. He remembered her now (and the vision he recalled was +strangely clear and vivid) as she had stood at the entrance to the cave +where dwelt the echo of Forellenbach; she laughing a little at the +strange American boy who thought wine-drinking an evil; he standing +within the cave, half shy, half proud, and longing to wake the echoes +with the pretty name, on that day first heard by him. Yes; he had loved +her then and always, while she,--and he groaned and his hot tears fell +fast as he remembered that Berthe had said--Berthe who knew--that his +wife had never loved him! + +The thoughts that racked him were base and unworthy, but he believed +them. It may be that at the bottom of his heart he wished to believe, +even while the belief rent him with actual anguish. He needed +justification for his own sins, and true to his human nature, found it +where he could. Again, perhaps dim as yet, but only dim because he +closed his eyes, was the desire to be driven to a step which he had +hardly dared contemplate, which he had refused to contemplate when it +had been suggested to him, but toward which now he was making his way as +certainly as he who, lost in the gloom of some dark forest, makes his +way toward a rift of light. + +He took Mrs. Joe's cheque from his pocket and looked at it. He recalled +a suggestion of Berthe that they cash it and go to France together. The +suggestion had startled, yet had fascinated him. He had put it aside. +Now its fascination returned with tenfold power--to put the ocean +between him and the past; to be a denizen of that land where man can be +free; to be one of those who, being damned, refuse to accept misery in +this life as well--he had recognized it then as a picture painted by the +devil; it now assumed a worthier aspect. There would be boldness in such +a step, a certain picturesqueness as well, and a dramatic ending to the +play in which he had enacted the role of dupe. The curtain would be rung +down upon a scene not contemplated by the authors of the drama--a scene +in which he alone would retain some dignity, to the discomfiture of +those whose puppet he had been. + +No thought of financial dishonesty was in his mind. The peculiar +fascination in the cheque was the facility it afforded for complete and +sudden rupture of every tie. He could secure the maker of the cheque +against loss; that could be done at his leisure; meanwhile, there it +lay, a golden bridge for passage across an abyss of shame, beyond which +lay a region of beauty and content. + +Yet even while he mused, finding a balm for wounded pride and love +betrayed in visions, of which the central figure was the woman who had +parted from him in despair, and whose pleading eyes even now besought +him, while his own lonely heart called out to her--even now, when +despair on the one hand, and passion on the other, strove for mastery, +even now he turned from the devil's beckoning finger, resolving to be +just. + +Yes; the accused should have a hearing. He would confront his wife and +demand an explanation of that meeting in the hall. She was probably +aware that he had witnessed it, for she had crouched in fear before him +when she had unexpectedly found him in the library. If she had not known +of his presence he would inform her and warily watch her, and carefully +weigh whatever she had to offer in explanation. He would not be +deceived, but she should meet the accusation face to face, himself +accuser, judge and witness. + +He looked at his watch. It was after nine o'clock. Natalie could hardly +be in bed. He would see her now in her own room, away from the chance of +eavesdropping servants. + +He prepared to put his intention into effect and was already in the +hall, when a maid handed him a sealed note. + +He read the letter. It commenced abruptly, without address: + + "Your violence has so agitated me that it has only been after a + long struggle that I have brought myself to write you. But I + persuade myself, as indeed I must, that you were unconscious of + your harshness. I will not, therefore, offer you my forgiveness + for an offense which was unintentional. But I think it better + that we do not meet immediately. I am the more urgent in this + because I wish your spirit to be soothed and your anger against + me to be mitigated, so that you shall hear me calmly. For, I + have much to say to you--a sad confession to make which may be + even harder for you to bear than the sorrow you have already + borne. But I have hope that if you will hear it calmly you will + recognize that if I did not love you I could not open my heart + to you, as I shall do. My husband, I have not been that which I + so long to be in future, a true wife to you. But I know, for I + know your goodness of heart, that when you have heard all you + will pardon all, and that our future shall be cloudless; that + your love shall help me to be that which I have failed in + being--your faithful wife." + +No need now, having read this confession, to consider his future course. +It was fixed. He looked at his watch. The train left at midnight. He +would write the necessary answer to the letter at once. + +He wrote swiftly and without pause. His brain had never been clearer, +his heart never lighter. + +A few minutes before midnight he quietly left the house. When he had +crossed the street to the Square he looked back at the only home he had +ever known. For good or for evil he was about to leave it, never to +return the husband of the woman who watched in the dimly lighted +chamber. A sob shook him as he turned from the light toward the +darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +THE RUINS OF HER AIR-CASTLE LAY AROUND HER. + + +Father Cameril laid down the "Life of St. Dunstan" and sighed. "He was +strong, he was faithful," muttered the good Father. "Alas!" and he +sighed again. + +He took a photograph from his pocket and gazed long upon the pictured +features. "Dr. Hicks did it," he murmured. Then he replaced the +photograph and went forth, going toward the sea, until at last, by many +a devious way, he came into the grounds of Stormpoint, and there, by +Eliphalet's Tomb, he saw a woman. "'Tis fate," he muttered. The woman +turned; Father Cameril started. He was face to face with Natalie. + +He stammered awkwardly, being wholly taken by surprise, that he had +thought she was Miss Lynford; then, after some conventional references +to the weather, he escaped. Natalie watched him as he walked away, then +fell into bitter musings, in which he had no part. + +Two years had passed since Leonard's flight. With the fall of her hero, +the light of the life of Miss Claghorn had been extinguished, and +though, with grim courage, she had striven to bear the heavy hand of the +Lord, laid thus upon the House of Claghorn, the knowledge that another +of the race, the brightest and the best, was doomed, was too heavy a +burden. Other Claghorns would be born and would live their little day, +but for whom could hope be cherished after such a fall as this? She +passed from life sure of her own salvation, but with the knowledge that +the elect race was no more to be reckoned as of the favored minority. +She refused to leave any message for Leonard; since the Lord had closed +the gates of glory upon him, it was for her to close her heart. She +charged her estate with a liberal annuity for Tabitha Cone, leaving her +fortune, otherwise unincumbered, to Natalie, who, with Tabitha, +continued to reside at the White House. + +A further untoward result of the catastrophe was the derangement of the +political plans of Mrs. Joe. The use of her cheque, given to Leonard, as +trustee, his unfulfilled promise of a large donation from an anonymous +lady (who could be no other than the lady of Stormpoint), his curt +resignation sent to the Seminary authorities from New York, the +separation from his wife, her seclusion, the crushing grief of Miss +Claghorn, the perturbation of Mrs. Joe, shared by Mark--these were all +parts of a puzzle eagerly put together, and so far successfully, that +the fact of the misuse of the cheque was established, at least to the +satisfaction of the multitude. And this involved an explanation from +Mrs. Joe, and the making known of her change of mind in respect of the +donation, which again involved some reflection upon the god and the +Confession revered by the Seminary, wherefrom was emitted a spark of +resentment, not allayed by Mark's openly expressed indignation with +those who professed to discover something parlous with regard to the +change of mind of his mother, in respect to the once-intended bounty. +The upshot of all this confusion was the lassitude, not to say, disgust, +evinced by Mark for the political prospects held out by Hampton, and +Mrs. Joe's recognition of the need of acting upon the shrewd advice of +Mr. Hacket, which was to "lie low till the pot stopped boiling," a +consummation not fervently hoped for by the adviser. + +With eyes fixed upon where the sun, a fiery ball, fast sank in the +distant waters, Natalie, standing where Father Cameril had left her, +recalled the days of her girlhood and their dreams. Her life, short as +it had been as yet, had been full of trouble. Were all lives thus? Her +glance fell upon the tomb; she wondered if the man at rest these two +centuries and more had in death resolved the deep mystery of living; or +was he, in fact, not yet at rest, but wandering still in other spheres, +the toy of a destiny he could neither shape nor fathom? She recalled the +day upon which she had seen the handsome American boy in the Odenwald, +and she thought of the ruin of his life with unutterable sadness. She +remembered how she had prattled with her father as the two dusty +travelers had entered the garden, and she recalled her bright visions +of the days to come. The days were here! The crumbling ruins of her +air-castles lay about her, and in the great upheaval that had caused +their fall a life had been wrecked. She looked out upon the waters, +hearing the ceaseless moan of the surge, and remembered how the kindly +fury of the waves had striven to rescue that life from shame and +degradation. Better, ah! how much better, had Leonard never returned +from that desperate plunge, but had gone a hero to whatever lay beyond! + +She remembered the day--it was not a day to be forgotten--that she had +taken the early walk to the cemetery; and how, as she had then looked +out upon the waves, a truth that during all the days of her wedded life +had lain at the bottom of her heart, had confronted her unbidden, +demanding recognition. She had refused to see it, until in the awakening +that had come to her in the cemetery she had, with high resolve, +determined to defy it and make of it a lie--and within an hour had +forgotten her resolution, and had dreamed her dreams which had their +birth in the pressure of lips to which she had no right. On the morrow +of that darkest day of her life she had found her husband's letter to +herself, a letter whose words were burned in upon her memory: "Natalie, +in your heart you never loved me." He had added more, the justification +of the wretched confession, now defiant, now maudlin, which followed; +much of it sadly false; but she remembered it all, and the true text of +his miserable story stood out before her as though lettered in the air. +The words condemned her. It was not true, and she made a gesture as +though repelling an accusation--it was not true that in the truth of +Leonard's words lay the underlying motive of the course of life she had +resolved upon. She denied this in her thoughts with almost frantic +vehemence; yet, urgent in her wish to find palliation for her husband's +sin, and seeing with clear vision the folly of the frightful dogma which +she now knew that in very truth he could not have believed, but which, +if believed, must of her own wrong have made a virtue, she grew +confused, and could find but one utterance to express the truth--"I have +sinned." + +She drew from the bosom of her dress a letter which she had received +but a few hours before. It was from Leonard, written from New York, and +repeating that accusation which she confessed as true. In the letter the +writer expressed his surprise that he had not found, on his return to +America, that she had taken steps to rid herself of ties which must be +hateful to her. This, he claimed, was an added injury to him, since it +prevented the course which his conscience required, and which he was in +honor bound to take for the sake of one who had loved him sufficiently +to sacrifice herself for him (meaning, though Natalie was ignorant of +the fact, Mademoiselle Berthe). He had added that if, within a given +time, his wife did not avail herself of the legal right to secure her +freedom, he would, actuated by the high considerations suggested, be +compelled to take measures to satisfy his conscience and his sense of +honor. And he concluded the epistle by setting forth with sufficient +distinctness the fact, that the law would recognize the validity of the +grounds on which he would, if it became necessary, base his application +for divorce. + +Heretofore she had resented the urgency of every friend (except one who +refrained from advice) to take the step to which she saw now she would +be driven. Mark alone had been silent, and her heart had often +fluttered, knowing his reason. But she had not dwelt upon a thought upon +which she knew she must not linger; rather had she prayed that Leonard +might return, and she be enabled to carry out the resolve she had so +often made, and in which she had so often failed, to be in all things a +true wife; thus earning the forgiveness which she craved by according +that which was due from her. Perhaps she had persuaded herself that such +a course would be possible--even so--she knew that in the letter she +held in her hand, she saw not the insult to herself, not the base +attitude of its writer, but the dawning of another day, and the promise +of a happiness which hitherto she had not dared contemplate, and which +she tried hard not to contemplate now. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +VOIDABLE VOWS OF TURKS (AND OTHERS). + + +When Father Cameril had found Natalie at Eliphalet's tomb, expecting to +find Paula, he had received a greater shock than the incident would seem +to have required. + +He had said to himself it was Fate; but had found that it was not fate +that determined a step which he desired to be compelled to take. + +That vow of celibacy had been made in ignorance. He was sure, having +examined the authorities closely as to this, that a vow taken in +ignorance was not binding. Turks were in the habit of vowing enmity to +the truth, yet could a Turk do a more praiseworthy deed than break such +a vow? He had supposed that celibacy was a good things for priests. He +had been wrong. It was a very bad thing. Ought he to continue a wrong +course in deference to a vow taken under a misconception? The underlying +motive of the vow was the desire to live worthily; since life lived in +accordance therewith would be passed less worthily than in opposition to +it, the only honest course was to disregard the vow. So argued Father +Cameril, unaided by fate, and hence, compelled to fall back on logic. + +But fate was to be more propitious than he had feared. Seated on a rock +in a distant portion of the grounds, gazing out upon the setting sun, he +came upon Paula. + +He took the hand she offered and which, as had lately been the case, +lingered a little within his own. Then he sat down beside her. + +"How beautiful it is," she observed. + +"Paula," he said, "I love you. Will you be my wife?" + +"Oh!" exclaimed Paula. + +Perhaps it was not very reassuring. But it was not a refusal. Her face +was rosier than he had ever seen it. Her heart was beating wildly. + +"I wanted to be a nun," she faltered. + +"I know it," he replied; "and I----" + +"Vowed celibacy." + +"It is true," he admitted. + +And then they sat and looked at where the sun had been. + +After awhile Paula arose and said she must go to the house. + +He offered his hand. + +"May I kiss you?" he said, in a low tone, his face very pale. + +"Father Cameril!" + +He hung his head. "You despise me," he said, after awhile. "You are +right. I despise myself. It is very hard." + +"I don't despise you; and you are not to despise yourself," she +stammered. "You perplex and confuse me. You astonish me." + +"I knew I would," he answered hopelessly. "It is very natural. I wish I +had not been born." + +"I beg you not to say dreadful things, not to have dreadful thoughts," +she exclaimed. + +"But I can't help them. If you knew how awful they are sometimes. Dr. +Hicks did it, Paula." + +"Don't let us talk of it." + +"Let us think about it." + +"I couldn't." + +"Don't you love me?" + +"I love everybody. You, and everybody." + +"Yes, you are a saint. I am not. I only love you. I only think of you. +Morning, noon and night. At Mass; everywhere----" + +"Do you, really?" she interrupted. + +"I do, really." + +She looked at him curiously. It was very nice, indeed, to know that a +good man was in the habit of thinking of her so continuously. But---- + +"You should not think of me in church," she said. + +"Of course not. I wouldn't if you were my wife. As it is, you creep into +all my thoughts. You are in the prayer-book, in the Bible, in the Life +of St. Dunstan, and of St. Thomas (of Canterbury), too. You are +everywhere." + +"Oh!" said Paula again. This was love indeed. + +"But your vow?" + +"I can explain that. Vowing under a misconception is not binding. That +was the way I vowed." + +"On purpose?" she asked, horrified. + +"Oh, no. I thought I was doing right." + +"Perhaps you were," she said. "If you were, this must be wrong." + +"I have examined my own heart closely, very closely." + +"Have you been to confession?" + +"To whom can I go? The Bishop would not hear me. He is benighted----" + +"There's your friend, Father Gordon." + +"Oh, Paula, he's only twenty-three." + +"But he's a priest." + +"But _he's_ under a vow. How can he understand?" + +A rapid footstep was heard. "There's Mark!" exclaimed Paula. + +Father Cameril tripped quickly away. "You here!" exclaimed Mark, as he +came upon Paula. "Isn't it dinner time?" + +"It must be," she said, slipping her hand into the arm he offered. + +"It was Father Cameril, Mark," she said, after a pause. + +"Of course," he replied. + +"Why, of course?" she asked, with slow utterance. + +He looked down into her face a little quizzically. "Is it not of +course?" he asked. + +"I--don't--think so," she answered slowly. + +"Paula!" He stood confronting her suddenly. + +"Well, Mark?" + +He laughed, yet looked at her rather seriously. "I thought you were +going to be a nun?" + +"I am; do you object?" + +"I shall be sorry to see it. But----" + +"But what?" + +"There are other things I would regret more." + +She looked into his face. It was a quick, questioning glance, but long +enough for him to note her beauty. They went on to the house in silence, +but Paula's heart fluttered. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +HER FACE WAS THE MIRROR OF HER PLEASANT DREAMS. + + +In Hampton Cemetery there stands, and will stand for the sympathetic +admiration of future ages, an imposing monument, which apprises him who +meditates among the tombs that it was "Erected to the Memory of Jeremiah +Morley, by his Sorrowing Widow." At the date of the construction of this +expensive evidence of grief, the cost whereof had been provided by +testamentary direction--for the late Jeremiah had not been the man to +stake a testimonial to his worth upon anything less binding--the +stone-cutter, as one versed in the prevailing fashion of monumental +inscriptions, had suggested the conventional reference to the usual +"Hope of a Joyful Resurrection"; but the widow, her conscience already +strained by the legend agreed upon, had objected. Yet the inscription +which strained her conscience had the merit of truth; for the man +beneath the stone had left her sorrowing, as she had sorrowed nearly +every day since she had been pronounced his wife; but, being strictly +Hamptonian in her views, her long intimacy with the deceased had +rendered her incredulous of his joyous resurrection. + +Years before the erection of the monument, while Easthampton was still a +port known to mariners, the warehouses since pulled down by Mrs. Joe +having hardly commenced to rot, a certain Jerry Morley who, so far as he +or anybody else knew, had no legitimate right to name or existence, had +sailed from the harbor in the capacity of third mate of the barque +"Griselda," a trim vessel manned by a crew of blackguards, not one of +whom could approach the mate either in hardihood or in villainy. At that +time Mate Jerry had been scarcely more than a boy, ragged, unkempt and +fierce-eyed; when he returned, which he did by stage (for the barque had +disappeared from the ken of man), he was a smooth-shaven, portly +gentleman, hard and domineering; but strict in his walk (to all +appearance), and rich. The voice of detraction is never absolutely +silent, and though Mr. Morley possessed all the ingredients which go to +the making of a "Prominent Citizen," and played that role successfully +for many years; yet occasional whispers were heard as to mutiny, murder, +seizure of the "Griselda," and a subsequent career as a slaver; +whispers, confined mostly to the ancient mariners who smoked and basked +about the decaying docks of Easthampton, and which, in due time, were +heard no more. Mr. Morley purchased a fine residence in Hampton, was +munificent to the Seminary, married the fair daughter of a prominent +theologian, and, in short, appeared to the eyes of the world as a clean, +pompous, very wealthy and highly respected citizen and church member. +Few beside his wife knew that, in fact, he was a brute, given over to +secret vices. He had possessed a brain incapable of either excitation or +ache. Never sober, no man had ever seen him (to the observer's +knowledge) drunk. Few suspected his secret indulgence, but at the age of +sixty, liquor, aided by other sly excesses known only to himself, struck +him down, as a bullet might have done, relieving a once rarely beautiful +woman of a great load, and granting her a few years of comfort as a +set-off against many years of hidden misery. + +From this grandfather Leonard had inherited more than one unsuspected +trait, but not the iron constitution which had succumbed only after +years of abuse. Berthe still had her adorable one, but her adoration was +gone; her man had become an object of compassionate disgust. The +brilliant theologian was a sot. + +His fall had been from so great a height to so low a depth, that in his +own eyes his ruin was accomplished before his case was hopeless. He was +not hurried to his doom by late awakened appetites alone; he had hardly +abandoned his home before regret, if not repentance, became a burden too +heavy for endurance. The mournful echoes of his days of virtue, the +visions of his past of honor, were ever in his ears and before his eyes. +Remorse, the hell of sinners, was ever present; and from its constant +pangs was no relief except in plunging deeper into sin, inviting +greater horrors, and ever beckoned by them. To such miseries were added +the fear of that unending life beyond the grave; the life of torment, +which all his days he had been taught to contemplate as the doom of +souls abandoned by their Maker. The knowledge that he was one of those +"passed by" and left for the fires of hell--this knowledge hourly +increased the anguish of his spirit. Who among men shall too hardly +judge a ruined fellow-creature, abandoned by his God, who in debauchery +can find forgetfulness; or who, in the hazy mists of drunkenness alone, +can see some rays to cheer the gloom of ruin? + +They had at first gone to Paris, and there he had plunged into +dissipation with an ardor that had startled and angered his companion, +whose good sense had been revolted. True, she had shown him the way, +recognizing his need of distraction; but she had not counted on reckless +excess, and had at first welcomed the change when he showed a +disposition to concentrate his attention upon liquor alone. She was to +learn that this slavery was the most debasing of all. + +The woman had loved her victim in her own way, and for awhile she +honestly strove to raise him from the foul abyss in which he seemed +doomed to settle, but her efforts had been vain. She had long been +possessed of the common purse, and though her prudence had husbanded the +proceeds of Mrs. Joe's cheque, she saw the necessity of reasonable +economy; so she got her man to London, where he, by this time, exhausted +from dissipation, was content to live frugally, so long as his decanter +of gin was kept supplied. The woman often gazed furtively at him, and +was troubled. She commenced to consider the future. "Leonard," she said +one day, "you ought to marry me." + +He was neither startled nor repelled. "It would be the first step in the +right direction," he answered. "Perhaps then I could overcome the +craving for drink." She was touched by the hope which for one moment +gleamed in his dull eyes. It aroused an answering hope in her bosom. Ah! +If it could be! If she could become his lawful wife, an honest woman; +and he the man he had been before she had led him to ruin! The passing +vision of purer days lured both. + +A nobler desire than mere acquisitiveness was awakened in her. She knew +that probably no such marriage would be legal; it might even be +dangerous. But, it would bind him to her so that there could be no +escape. And so the matter came to be discussed between the two. Both +were aware of the possible criminality of the act, though both hoped +that Leonard's wife had procured a divorce; but, notwithstanding some +misgiving, the marriage was finally accomplished. Berthe had her own +reasons for not waiting until they could revisit America; and perhaps in +the loneliness of his wrecked life, Leonard's object was like the +woman's, to bind her to himself with hooks of steel. Perhaps it was but +the result of influence of a stronger will upon a fast decaying mind. + +Thus it had come about that the two had returned to America, and, on +their arrival, had concocted the letter to Natalie, by whom it had been +submitted to Mr. Ellis Winter. That gentleman advised that Natalie take +up her residence in New York, and he engaged to notify Leonard that his +demand for divorce would be accorded, as soon as the needful legal +requisites could be complied with. Natalie was to make her application +on the ground of abandonment, and to refuse to ask for alimony. + +And now, alone with Tabitha in a big hotel, without occupation, except +such as was afforded by recollections which could not be other than +bitter; in the gloom of the days and the miserable object of her present +existence, Natalie allowed herself to see the rays of hope illumining a +future upon which she looked, shyly, and with a sense of guilt. Yet who +would not contemplate the alluring tint of fruit as yet forbidden, but +ripening for us before our eyes? + +During this period of isolation she saw Mark once, his visit having the +ostensible excuse of business. Leonard had, by the hand of his legal +adviser, written to Mrs. Joe, suggesting that she purchase the Morley +mansion, so that out of the proceeds of the sale he could repay his +debt. While the lady would have been as well content that the debt +remain unpaid, it was believed by all who still hoped that Leonard might +be won back to respectability, that the suggestion was a good one. To +carry it into effect the consent of Natalie was, of course, necessary, +and also that the transfer be effected before the institution of divorce +proceedings. The consent was immediately given. + +"And, Mark," said Natalie, as she handed him the deed, "if you see +Leonard, say to him that I hope for his forgiveness." + +"His forgiveness!" + +"Ah, Mark! I wronged him; I ought never----" + +He knew what was on her lips, but which she could not say to him--that +she ought never to have married Leonard. He took her hand and drew her, +unresisting, toward himself; her head drooped upon his shoulder. They +stood thus, for a moment, and then he left her. Words of love remained +unspoken, but the heart of each was full of that which was unsaid. + +There was a long and dreary interval, but at length came the day when +Natalie was made free. She learned the fact in the afternoon, but +concealed it from Tabitha. That evening she was melancholy, and Tabitha +essayed in vain to cheer her; and so the next day passed. But the day +after that Tabitha noticed a change; a tremulous fluttering, some +tendency to tears, but more to smiles. And Tabitha discovered that she +was being petted. She must have a drive--and had it; special delicacies +at luncheon were ordered for her delectation, including a share of a +pint of champagne, which Tabitha averred was sinful, though she sinned +with satisfaction. A beautiful gold watch was given her to replace the +fat-faced silver bulb, precious in Miss Cone's eyes as once the property +of the long-drowned mariner, but which of late years had acquired the +eccentric characteristics of the famous time-piece of the elder Weller; +and at last when the time came to say "good-night," Tabitha must be +kissed and hugged. But the last proceeding was too much for the maiden's +discretion. "What is it?" she asked. + +"Oh, Tabby, I'm so happy." And then, ashamed, and afraid of having said +too much, Natalie escaped to her own room. + +And there read again the letter which she had received that morning, and +which she had furtively read many times during the day. She knew it by +heart, but she liked to read the words written by her lover's hand. + + "Dear Natalie--The decree is granted. The words, 'I love you' + have been on my lips so long, that they must find utterance. I + repeat them, if not with lips, yet in my heart every moment of + the day. Write or telegraph me the date of your arrival at the + White House. I would rather have a letter; in a letter you can + say that you love me. Shall it be a letter? + + "MARK." + +To this she had answered by telegraph: "I write to-night." He was in +Philadelphia, and until the evening of the following day she would be +unable to leave for home. He would receive her letter in time to get to +Stormpoint soon after her arrival in Easthampton. He desired a letter; +he should have a letter. + +Yet it was hard to write. It had been easy to whisper to herself such +phrases as "Mark, dear Mark, I love you, I love you"; but it was less +easy to set those words down on paper, though there was a joy in it, +too. The difficulty of writing them vanished when they were for her own +eye only, not to be mailed. And so she scribbled over sheet after sheet +of paper: "Mark, Dear Mark, My Love, My Own, My Lover"--such words and +many others she wrote, blushing, smiling; at times not seeing what she +wrote for the tears in her eyes. At last she roused herself from this +foolish play and wrote a proper letter. + + "Dear Mark--How good you have always been! I shall arrive home + on Saturday morning. I long to see you. Dear Mark, I love you." + +The last phrase was hurriedly written and had required resolution, but +she was happier for having written it. She sealed the letter that she +might not be tempted in the morning to substitute another. Then she went +to bed, and all the night through her face was the mirror of her +pleasant dreams. No shadow of the future was upon her as she slept +smiling. + +And awoke with the smile upon her face, and in a low voice sang while +dressing. Her toilet concluded, she took her letter from the table, +kissed it shyly, and placed it in her bosom. She would mail it as she +went downstairs. + +A knock at her door and the announcement of a visitor--a lady who had +business of importance. Natalie ordered that the lady be shown into her +sitting-room. + +On entering the sitting-room she found Berthe. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +HER GUILTY CONSCIENCE CRIED: "BEHOLD YOUR HANDIWORK." + + +Natalie saw all things through the halo of the rosy hopes that now +encompassed her. "Berthe!" she exclaimed, both hands extended in +welcome, "I thought you had gone to France. Mrs. Leon told me so--but, +how is this? You look pale and ill?" + +Pale and ill she was, but no illness would have deterred her from making +the appeal she had come to make. + +Since his return to America, Leonard had indulged in drink more +recklessly than ever, and Berthe, though conscious of the value to +herself of the divorce, had dreaded the granting of the decree. For the +prospect of being bound to this lost creature filled her with aversion. + +Conscience makes cowards of us all, and Berthe feared the man. Not that +he had shown any inclination for violence toward her, though he had long +been irritable and disposed to quarrel on slight provocation. She did +not fear his hand; it was his presence. The sodden spectacle was +becoming a weight upon her soul, an accusation beyond her strength to +bear. She had loved him, loved him even now, and her guilty conscience +cried incessantly, "Behold your handiwork!" + +On the day when Natalie had petted Tabitha, she had for the first time +lived in fear, even of his hand. Early that morning she had noticed that +his speech was tremulous and uncertain, though he drank less than usual. +He dozed constantly, often waking with a cry of terror; and then his +whole frame would tremble as he gazed with eyes of hate and horror at +herself, or at some invisible yet dreadful object near her, muttering +incoherent phrases indicating fear. Again he would doze, again awake and +the scene would be repeated. With each new seizure his action became +more violent, while the nameless horror that was upon him communicated +itself to her. At last she sent for a physician, but not until there had +been a wild outbreak. He had clutched her by the throat: "Devil!" he +shouted, "you shall not take me to hell; I am of the elect, a Claghorn! +Down, fiend!" She had cowered in fear, and he had saved her life by +fainting. + +The doctor easily diagnosed the case. Berthe's willingness to pay for +the services of two male nurses, and the fear that any disturbance might +entail a frantic outbreak and death, were the considerations that +restrained the physician from ordering the patient's removal to a +hospital. + +The convulsions of the stricken man were frightful; his shrieks, his +wailing prayers for deliverance from hell--these appalled the woman, +filling her with apprehension akin to that of the raving victim. His +calls for Natalie were most piteous, wails of anguish that pierced the +heart of the woman that had loved him, and whose moans answered his +incessant repetition of the name of one, lacking whose forgiveness he +must face the horrors of the damned. The unending utterance of the name, +never ceasing even when at last he sank into the stupor of exhaustion +and of opiates, attracted the attention of the physician, who told +Berthe that while he believed the case hopeless, possible good might be +effected by the presence of the person without whom it seemed as though +the man could not even die. + +The awful fear that he would die, his last wish ungratified, wherefore, +in her belief, his restless soul would haunt all her future days; this, +added to the pity for the man she still loved, who had rescued her from +misery, whose head had lain upon her bosom, nerved her to carry out the +resolve she had taken. She knew that no messenger could effect the +purpose; she must assume the task herself. It was not without a pang +that she determined upon a mission which, if successful, must involve +her desertion of the dying man; but, though she did not forget such +jewels as she possessed or to collect all the money that remained, her +flight was nevertheless intended as such expiation as she could make. + +She hoped, though she could not be sure, that her identity as Leonard's +companion was not known to Natalie; but she assumed that Mrs. Leon had +given information as to other misconduct, and she expected to be met +with cold disapproval, if, indeed, she were received at all. But instead +of disapproval she was encountered with outstretched hands and their +friendly pressure; and, as with this reception there came upon her the +recollection of the sweet graciousness of her former mistress, and with +it the consciousness of her requital of the kindness of past days, her +heart was like to fail. + +"I bring you a message," she gasped, "from your husband." + +"My husband!" For the moment Natalie forgot that she had no husband. +Then the recollection came upon her, and with it a premonition of evil. +She was as pale as Berthe, as she stood, looking at her visitor, +bewildered and afraid. + +"Stop!" she exclaimed, as Berthe was about to speak. "What can you know +of him you call my husband? He left me, abandoned me for a wicked woman. +He wrote me confessing his shame, but not his fault. Again he wrote, +insinuating wicked deeds of me, and threatening me. Since two days he is +no more my husband; I can receive no message." + +"He is dying!" + +The red flush which had displaced the pallor of Natalie's cheek +disappeared. Again her face grew pale; she stared at Berthe. + +"Listen," faltered the Frenchwoman. "He wronged you, yet he loved you +always, has loved you till this hour, and cannot die without your +forgiveness." + +"Take it to him----Dying! Leonard, Leonard!" She covered her face. + +"I was maid to the woman he went away with," continued Berthe, "and so I +came to know his story. The woman has been kind to him--let her pass, +then"--seeing that her listener shuddered. "The man is dying. He moans +and wails for you--for you. The woman herself begged me to come for you. +He fears" (her face grew whiter) "he fears the fires of hell, but he +will not have a priest. Only you can rescue him--your pardon--he cannot +die without it." She broke down. All else she might have borne upon her +conscience; but she could not bear that he should go unshriven. + +At the mention of the fires of hell Natalie was conquered. "Take me to +him," she said. + +"Follow me in half an hour," Berthe rose as she spoke, handing a written +address to Natalie. + +"But no time must be lost----" + +"In half an hour," repeated Berthe. "Give her--the woman--time to get +away." And then she passed out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +"I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIM, SO HELP ME GOD IN HEAVEN." + + +"Natalie." He stirred uneasily, muttering the word, which since her +coming he had not uttered; then, as she lightly pressed the hand she +held, he slept again. So she had sat for hours beside his bed. + +The physician had prepared her for the sight that had met her eyes. From +Tabitha, who was with her, he had gleaned some knowledge of the facts. +Tabitha, still ignorant of the granting of the decree, had assured him +that the visitor was the wife of Leonard Claghorn. + +"Poor woman, she will need her courage," he said. "The other one has +gone. As for the wife, if she can bear it, I would have her sit beside +him so that he can see her when he wakes." + +So there she had taken her place, beside the man whom the law had +decreed was no more to her than any other. But death mocks law. Dying, +he was so much to her that no hand but hers should smooth his pillow. + +Perhaps the nature of the disease, perhaps the deep exhaustion, had made +a great change in his appearance. The bloated aspect of his face was +gone, and even a greater beauty than the beauty of his youth and +innocence was apparent. But it was the beauty of ruin. The face was +marble, yet lined with the deep furrows of sorrow and remorse. The hair +was gray at the temples, the cheeks were hollow and the mouth was drawn. +It was Leonard, the man whose head had lain upon her bosom, the father +of her child--the same, yet oh, how changed! + +"Natalie!" + +She bent toward him. He essayed to lift her hand to his lips; she placed +it on his brow. + +"I have had a dream," he whispered, "a dreadful dream!" + +"Hush, Leonard. You must sleep." + +He feebly raised his arm and tried to draw her to him. Slowly she bent +toward him, falling on her knees beside the bed. His arm was now about +her neck; he drew her cheek to his. + +"My wife!" He uttered the words with a long-drawn sigh, of such sweet +content that in that sigh she believed he had breathed his life out. +Soon he spoke again. "Now I can sleep," he said, and freed her from his +embrace. She rose gently and stood watching him; he slept without the +stertorous breathing of before. Looking up, she saw the physician in the +doorway. He beckoned to her. She rose and quietly left the room. + +"Madam," said the doctor, "this is wonderful. That natural sleep may +portend recovery." + +"Then I can go," she said. + +The doctor looked at her gravely, not approvingly. But it was not as he +supposed; she was not hard-hearted; but the woman! Leonard had written +that his conscience and his honor demanded that he marry the woman. If +he were to live, there was no place at his bedside for her, who had once +been his wife. + +"Mrs. Claghorn," said the doctor, "your companion, Miss--ah--Miss Cone, +has informed me of the existing relations between you and your husband. +As a stranger I can give no advice, can only tell you that the woman who +has been his companion has left your husband forever." + +"Left him to die!" she exclaimed. + +"Precisely. It need not surprise you. It is barbarous; but such women +are barbarous. I shall be surprised if one who has displayed so much +magnanimity should fail now. Pardon me, Mrs. Claghorn, but your place is +by your husband's side. One woman has basely left him to die. Should you +leave him now, you repeat the act." + +The doctor silently withdrew. Natalie sank into a chair. Her mind was +confused. Her place by her husband's side! Had she then a husband? The +scenes in which she had been an actor had numbed her faculties, strained +by the long watch by the bedside she had left. A feeling of suffocation +was stealing over her; instinctively she loosened her dress at the +throat. The letter she had written to Mark fell upon the floor, and she +sat staring at it, dumb. + +It became evident that her husband, as all in the house believed him to +be, would live. Over and over again the doctor congratulated her on the +wonderful influence of her presence upon the sick man. Naturally, he was +glad to have rescued a patient from the very jaws of death; and though, +since he had learned more of her history from Tabitha Cone, he had +slight sympathy for the man, yet he believed that even under the +untoward circumstances existing, forgiveness and reconciliation was the +course which promised most for future happiness. + +"It is the best thing for her," he said to Tabitha. "She will withdraw +the divorce proceedings and forgive him. She can never be happy unless +she does." + +Tabitha, though sure that she herself would never have forgiven her +mariner under similar circumstances, which, however, she admitted were +unthinkable in that connection, agreed with the physician. + +"He will be long in getting well," said the physician; "if, indeed, he +ever recovers completely. If he has the heart of a man he must +appreciate what she has done for him; literally brought him back to +life." + +"He was a good man, once," observed Tabitha, her eyes filling. "Oh, +Doctor! The most beautiful, the sweetest; the most frank and loving +boy----" + +"And a brilliant theologian, you tell me. Well, well, Miss Cone, in my +profession we learn charity. It is astounding what an evil influence +some women can gain over men. And this one was not even beautiful." + +"The hussy!" + +"Quite so. Ah, Miss Cone, our sex must ever be on guard," and the doctor +laughed a little. He was feeling triumphant over the recovery of his +patient. + +Yet in watching that recovery his face was often very grave. Natalie was +sharp-eyed. "Is your patient getting well?" she asked. + +"He improves hourly," was the answer, but the tone was not cheerful. He +looked at Natalie anxiously. + +"Physically, yes. His mind, Doctor?" + +"His mental faculties are failing fast." + +"How long has this been going on?" He was surprised at her equable +tones. Evidently she had nerved herself for this disclosure. + +"A brave woman," he thought. + +"That is a hard question to answer." + +"Do you think it the result of drink? He had never touched liquor two +years since." + +"I should hardly ascribe it to liquor entirely. Doubtless, +over-indulgence of that nature has been a force, a great force. The +delirium in which you found him may be directly ascribed to drink." + +"If he had been greatly harassed, say two years since, having been up to +that time a good man--if then he had suddenly fallen into evil--would +you ascribe such a fall to the mental strain consequent upon the worry I +have suggested?" + +"She seeks every palliation for him," thought the doctor. "Madam, I +should say that in the case of a man, such as you have pictured, a +sudden lapse into evil courses, courses which belied his training and +previous life----" + +"Yes?" She was looking steadfastly at him. He little knew the resolve +that hung upon his words. + +"I should say he was not wholly responsible. I should attribute much to +the worry, the vexations, to which you have alluded." + +With all her firmness she shrank as from a blow. Thinking to comfort +her, he had driven a knife into her heart. + +"And now, my dear Mrs. Claghorn, since we are upon this subject--a +subject from which I admit I have shrunk--let me tender you some advice. +You have saved your husband's life; let that be your solace. It will not +be for his happiness that you sacrifice your own." + +"Go on," she said, seeing that he hesitated. + +"After awhile--not now," he said, "but after your presence is less +necessary to him, you must let me aid you to place him in an +establishment where he will have every care----" + +"An asylum?" + +The doctor nodded. + +"I will never leave him, so help me God in heaven! Never, never, Mark, +my darling, for I, and only I, brought him to this pass!" She cried +these words aloud, her hand upraised to heaven. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +MONEY, HEAPS OF MONEY. + + +Mark Claghorn, standing by the window of that room at Stormpoint which +was especially set aside as his own, but which, in its luxurious +fittings, bore rather the traces of the all-swaying hand of the mistress +of the mansion, gazed moodily out toward the tomb, speculating, perhaps, +as to the present occupation of the soul that had once been caged in the +bones that crumbled there. + +To whom entered Mrs. Joe, who silently contemplated him awhile, and +then, approaching, touched his shoulder. He turned and smiled, an act +becoming rare with him. "Mark," she said, "I am getting old." + +"You look as young as my sister might," he said. + +"That's nonsense," but she smiled, too. Barring some exaggeration, she +knew that his words were true. + +"Even so," she urged seriously, "you have wandered enough. You might +stay here for my sake." + +"Mother, I will stay here for your sake." + +"Only that, my son? You know I want more than that." + +"Yes," he said, "you want too much. Let us have it out. Believe me, your +pleasant dream of a political career for me is hopeless. Granted that I +could buy my way to high office--though I do not think so--could I ever +respect myself, or command respect? Where, then, would be the honor?" + +"I never thought of buying." + +"No, not in plain terms. But at my age, together with the fact that I am +a stranger, at least a newcomer, in this State, money would be my only +resource--perhaps a hopeless one, in any case. The rich man must learn +his lesson, which is, that wealth bars the way to honor." + +"Our senior Senator is rich." + +"I do not speak of moderately rich men. Suspicion is even directed +(unjustly, I believe) against such men. But the whole State knows that, +politically, our Senator has risen from the ranks. Perhaps he has been +compelled to buy that which is his due--who can tell? But all know that +at least he has earned the distinction he has won." + +"And could you not earn it?" + +"No. I am not merely moderately rich. I should be 'held up' by every +rogue that glories in the name of politician. If I refused to buy, and +refuse I must, I should have no chance whatever. Gold besmirches many +things. A rich man is of necessity defiled, let him keep his hands as +clean as he can." + +Mrs. Joe sighed. + +"You have not been willing to realize the facts which influence my +life," he went on. "We must look facts in the face. Political +distinction is not for me. For your sake I would try, were I not assured +that your disappointment would be inevitable. He laid his hand upon her +shoulder. He spoke very kindly. + +"Mark," she said--there were tears in her eyes--"I wish you were happy." + +"If I am content----" + +"But you are not. Oh, Mark, seek happiness. Marry." + +He smiled grimly. "I wish I could," he said. + +"Mark, you say my dream is hopeless. I surrender it. Is yours less +hopeless? You wear your life away. Is it worthy to wait for a man to +die?" + +He made no answer. + +"Dear," she said, and the word moved him deeply, for though he knew how +much he was beloved of his mother, a term of tenderness was rare from +her lips--"Dear, you know what she wrote me." + +"You showed me the letter. She gave me the same advice long ago." + +"It is the right thing to do. Paula loves you. Natalie is lost to you. +You do not know where she is; she does not intend that you shall know. +She will not marry you now, even though death were to free her from the +bonds she has assumed. She is right. Mind, Mark, I say no word of +censure. I believe in her purity as I do in Paula's--but the world will +talk. That which she has done cannot be kept secret, but her motive must +remain a secret. Had the man died----" + +"Enough!" he said sternly. "You say you believe in her as you do in +Paula. No shadow of suspicion can ever cross my mind or yours. We need +not consider the world----" + +"But, my son, she will consider it. She does consider it. Her letter to +me shows it. That letter was no easy one for a woman to write. Do you +think she would even indirectly have disclosed your secret to me, except +that she believed it necessary for your good? I do not doubt, Mark, that +she has renounced your love even to you. Is it not unworthy to----" + +"To love without hope? Perhaps it is. But since the fact is not +generally known--here, as in some other things, the sin consists in +being found out." He laughed. "You know you didn't find out; you were +told." + +"Yes; in the hope, I verily believe, that the disclosure would wound you +and so kill your love." + +"It wounded, certainly," he said bitterly. "Perhaps, if you give it +time, the wound may yet be as fatal as you wish--as she wished." He +laughed again very grimly. "Strange creatures, women," he said. "Their +self-sacrifice includes the sacrifice of every one but self." + +"That is cruel! From no possible point of view can her life be a happy +one." + +"How you quarrel about a man and cling together against a man!" he said, +smiling down upon the lady, who had no other answer than the shrug +which, when it moves feminine shoulders, implies that masculine density +is impenetrable. His smile broke into laughter. + +It aroused her secret indignation; but encouraged her, too. If he could +laugh, her case was not hopeless. + +"Mark, let us be sensible. You should marry and have children. What else +is open to you, the rich man? You have no faith in the world, none in +friendship, none in love. Consider what your life must be if, at this +age, all purer sources of feeling are dried up! In marriage you will +find them all reopened. Your family will be your world. You need +children. I need them. We are rich; yes, horribly rich. What is all this +worth to us? You are the last of a race, honorable since the tenant of +yonder grave first set foot upon this soil; honorable before that time. +Shall that race die in you? My son, that old-world notion of Family is +estimable. This country needs that it be cherished. The wealth will not +be so new in the next generation. Your sons will not be strangers in the +land of their fathers. You shall so train them that in them you shall +reap the distinction denied to you. You say I am yet young. I am not +old, and may still live to see my grandsons honored by their fellow men. +By your own confession nothing remains to you but marriage. Love is +offered you daily, by one most sweet and most lovable. Paula----" + +He stopped her by a gesture. Her unwonted energy had impressed him. She +had spoken well. "You have uttered many truths," he said, "but what you +say of Paula is not kind, nor do you know----" + +"Mark! on my honor as a woman, I believe that Paula loves you." Then she +left him. + +He remained long musing. Why should he not make his mother happy? It was +true, waiting for a man to die was a pitiful occupation. And even should +the man die there would be no hope for him. It was a year since Natalie +had hidden herself with her burden and Tabitha Cone. Hidden herself, as +he well knew, from him. She had written both him and his mother. She had +not feared to again acknowledge her love; but she had prayed him to +forget her. And she had told him that Paula loved him; she had shown him +that his duty required him to love Paula in return; finally, she had, +almost sternly, bade him cease to hope. + +Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps Paula loved him--as much as she +could love. He loved her in the same cool fashion. He was used to her. +She was very beautiful, completely amiable, kind and gentle. Not very +brilliant, yet if simple-minded, not a fool. Marriage would bring out +all there was of Paula, and that might be much more than was generally +suspected. And whatever it was it would be lovable. He knew he was +living the life of a fool. Why live that life consciously? Why not make +his mother completely happy; Paula and himself happier; as happy as they +could be? + +He turned to his desk and opened a hidden drawer therein. From this he +took a small packet of papers. "A man about to die or marry should set +his house in order," he muttered, as he spread the papers open. There +was the first letter Natalie had ever written him; a reply to his letter +of condolence concerning her father's death. He glanced over it and +slowly tore it into fragments. He did the same with the few others +written by her, all except the last he had received. This was in answer +to a letter into which he had thrown all the strength of his soul, +lowering, if not completely breaking down, the last barriers of reserve +behind which those who feel deeply hide their hearts. + +He could not complain that in her answer she had not been equally frank. +"From the innermost depths of my soul I love you, and if more can be, I +honor you still more--and because I so love and honor you I must not see +you again. I have loved you since the day I first saw you in the +Odenwald. I loved you when I became the betrothed of another. I hoped +then you would find a way to free me from the promise I had given. I +aver before Heaven that I tried with all my strength to be a faithful +wife. I loved my husband; alas! not as I know now, with a wife's love, +but I believed it. Yet--let me confess it--at the very bottom of my +heart slept my love for you, not dead as I had thought it. I have sinned +against you, against him who was my husband, against myself. We must all +suffer for my sin. You are strong. I must gather all the strength I can +for the duty that my guilt has laid upon me--to bear my fate and to make +a ruined life as endurable as unremitting care can make it. My sin was +great. Consider my expiation! I must always see before my eyes my +handiwork. + +"You love me. Do you think that ever a doubt of your love crosses my +mind? You will always love me. I know it. But, if you see me no more +that love will, in time, become a tender reminiscence--not worth a tear, +rather a smile--of pity let it be, for the lives that are wrecked. But +from this day forth let your own life present a fair ideal to be +realized. One has grown up beside you whose fate is in your hands. The +fashioning of her destiny lies with you. To be a happy wife and mother, +the lot for which nature intended her, or to live the barren life of a +religious devotee; and knowing her as I do, I know that for you, +embittered and distrustful by reason of your burden of inordinate +wealth, she is supremely fitted to make your life serene and cheerful in +return for the felicity you will bring to her. + +"Adieu, for the last time. I shall not forget you, but shall love you as +long as I live, and as warmly as I love you now. But deliberately, and +with unalterable resolve, I have chosen my lot. Nothing, not even the +hand of death, can render me fit to be more to you than the memory of +one who has lived her life." + +He slowly tore the letter into fragments as he had torn the others. +Perhaps his mouth twitched as he did so. He looked upon the little heap +of paper on his desk. "The Romance of a Rich Young Man," he muttered, +and smiled at the conceit. Then he gathered the fragments in his hand +and strewed them upon some tinder in the chimney and applied a match. +"Gone up in Smoke," he said aloud. + +"Did you speak?" asked his mother, who had entered the room. + +"I repeated the title of a novel I am going to write," he said. "I +wanted to hear how it would sound." + +"You must live a romance before you can write one, Mark." + +"True," he answered dryly. "I need experience. Where is Paula?" + +"Oh, Mark!" + +He kissed her. "Yes," he said, "I will do what I can to make you happy, +and--gain experience." + +Mrs. Joe's eyes beamed through her tears. + +"She is in the library." + +Leaving the room by the window, which opened upon a veranda, he walked +toward the library, the windows of which opened upon the same veranda. + +The library windows were divided in the centre, like doors. They were +open now, and the thick French plate reflected like a mirror. In the +open window pane he saw, as in a mirror, a portion of the interior. +Paula was there, and Paula's head nestled against the breast of Father +Cameril, and the good Father's arm encircled her while his lips pressed +hers. + +Mark stole silently away. + +He found Mrs. Joe awaiting him in the room he had left. "Be very kind to +her, mother," he said. "She will have something to tell you." + +"But you have been so quick----" + +He smiled. "I shall not be the hero of the tale. Father Cameril is the +lucky man. After all, it is better. I could not have made her happy as +she deserves to be. I am glad I was prevented from offering her----" He +hesitated. + +"Your heart," said Mrs. Joe. + +"An insult," he answered curtly, as he left the room, strolling toward +Eliphalet's tomb. + +And at Eliphalet's tomb he recognized that Natalie had been wise. Now +that it was lost to him he knew that his last long-neglected chance for +happiness was gone. Happiness! Perhaps the word meant too much, but in +Paula's companionship he could at least have found, in time, contentment +and cheerfulness, and are these not happiness, the highest happiness? +What now was left him? Money, heaps of money! It barred the way to +honorable ambition; its heavy weight lay on his heart, breeding therein +suspicion of the love or friendship of all men and women. For him life +must be a solitude. He could never lie beside a wife assured that he had +won her for himself. He knew that the deadly poison of distrust must +ever and ever more thoroughly taint his being, distorting his vision and +rendering the aspect of all things hateful. Yet how many thousand men, +whose clothes and dinners were assured them, would be glad to change +places with him! "But all I have are clothes and food," he muttered. + +"We are all poor critters!" Deacon Bedott had spoken words of wisdom. +"But the poorest of all is the Rich Man, Deacon," he said. + +And then bethought him that by this time Paula and Father Cameril would +have made their great announcement. "Little Paula!" he murmured. "Well, +she shall have joyous wedding bells, at least, and smiling faces. For +the rest let the fond Father look to it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +WEDDING BELLS. + + +The summer sun beat pitilessly upon the burnished cobble stones, driving +from the crooked street all except the geese, and even these only +languidly stretched their necks, hissing inhospitably at the heels of +the dusty wayfarer, the sole object of interest to the landlord of the +Red-Ox, who stood in the gateway of his hostelry and blinked in the +glare of the sun. "Too old for a student," he muttered, "and no +spectacles. Perhaps an artist." As the pedestrian came nearer a puzzled +gleam, half of recognition, spread over his features. The dusty traveler +stopped. "And so you are here yet!" and he slapped the broad shoulder of +the host. + +"Here yet, and hope to be for many a year to come," answered the fat +host; "and you are here, not for the first time, I dare swear; but who +you are, or when you last were here---- + +"That you can't recall. Why should you?" + +"_Ein Amerikaner!_ A _studiosus juris_, of the Pestilentia. _Ein alter +Bursch_ of ten years back! Remember? Surely, all but the name." + +"And what's in a name?" shaking the offered hand of the landlord. "Mine +is a mouthful for you--Claghorn." + +"_Herr Doktor_ Clokhorn. That's it. Not so great a mouthful after all." +He led the way into the well-remembered garden. "Many a schoppen have +you had here," he said; "and many a time sung '_Alter Burschen +Herrlichkeit_' at this very table, and many trout----" + +"Devoured," interrupted Mark. "That pastime will bear repetition. As for +singing, one loses the desire." + +"Not so," observed the fat host. "I am sixty, but I lead the Liederkranz +to-day. Wine, woman and song--you know what Luther said----" + +"I remember. But not even the Great Reformer's poetry is to be taken +too literally. We'll discuss the point later on. Now some trout, then a +pipe and a gossip." + +When the host departed to attend to the order, Mark unstrapped his +knapsack and looked about him. + +He had come thousands of miles to see this garden! He admitted the +foolish fact to himself, though even to his mother he would have denied +it. The fat host was right; he had drunk many a flask of wine in this +place, roared in many a chorus, had danced many a waltz with village +maidens on yonder platform; but of these various scenes of his student +days he had not thought until his host recalled them. They were +memories, even memories with some of that tender sadness which renders +such memories pleasant, but such as they would never have drawn him +here. + +And now that he was here, so sharp a pain was in his heart that he +recognized his folly. The wound was yet too new. He should have waited a +decade or more. Then he might have found solace in recalling her to his +mind, here where first he had seen her; he, in all the arrogant pride of +youth; she, with all the fresh beauty of a school girl. Now no effort +was needed to recall her to his memory--she was ever present. + +Nevertheless, he enjoyed his fish and his wine. "A superlative vintage," +said the host, who had had time to recall his guest more distinctly, and +who remembered that in past days _Studiosus Clokhorn_ had dispensed +money with a liberal hand. + +"And so the inn has been enlarged," said Mark, looking about him. "That +means prosperity." + +"Forellenbach is becoming a resort," replied the host. "We have parties +that remain for days. We have strangers here at this moment." + +"Ah!" was the sleepy comment. + +"Yes; three ladies. Or rather, two ladies and a maid. Mother and +daughter--English." + +"Ah!" said Mark again. + +At this point the host, rather to the relief of his guest, was called +away, and Mark adjusted himself upon the bench and dozed. A long tramp, +and perhaps the superlative vintage, had made him sleepy. + +When he awoke, sunset shadows were about him. He was vexed, having +intended to walk on to Heidelberg, which now he must do in part after +dark. However, a walk by night might be pleasanter than had been the +tramp under the sun. Before leaving he would look about. It was not +likely that he would ever again see a place which would dwell always in +his memory. + +As he neared the cave where the echo dwelt he saw the slender figure of +a woman. Her back was toward him, but the garb and mien proclaimed one, +not a permanent resident of the village. "One of mine host's guests," he +murmured, "a _gnaedige Frau_ of artistic taste and economical practice." +He paused, unwilling to disturb feminine meditation. The stranger stood +at the entrance to the cave, on the spot where first he had seen the +girl who, later, had become the one woman in the world to him. There was +something in her attitude, bent head and arms hanging listless, that +interested, even moved him. She, too, looked like some lonely being, +saying a last farewell at a shrine where love had been born; and then, +as she strolled away, hidden by overhanging boughs of trees and the +slowly deepening evening shadows, he smiled at his conceit. + +He strolled on to where she had been standing, for, though he smiled +cynically at his foolishness, the spot was to him a sacred one. If +sentimental folly had brought him a thousand leagues, it might well +control a few steps more. + +As he reached the place he came face to face with another woman, whose +old but sharp eyes recognized him instantly. "Mr. Mark!" + +"Tabby!" He was so astonished that he could say no more for a moment. +Then he found words: "Was that Natalie?" + +Miss Cone, though slightly hysterical from pleasure and surprise, +explained that Natalie had just left her. "But what brings you here?" +she added. + +"Heaven or fate," was the answer. And then he was for following Natalie +at once. But Tabitha restrained him. "Let me prepare her," she urged, +and to that plea she found him willing to listen. + +Then she told him the story of their wanderings. They had brought +Leonard to Europe, principally for the voyage, which, however, had been +of no benefit. They had remained in Ireland, near Londonderry, where +they had first landed. He had never been able to move, but passed his +life in a wheeled chair. His mind had been that of an infant, though +before he died he seemed to have gleams of intelligence, and had once in +an old churchyard expressed a wish to be buried there, or so Natalie had +interpreted his babbling. And there he had slept for a year. "And so," +sobbed Tabitha, "the poor boy's weary life is over at last. God bless +him!" + +"Amen to that," said Mark. "Tabitha! It has been a grief to me, God +knows. So heavy a sorrow that I have thought I could not bear it; yet, +at this moment I can say that I am glad that Natalie forgave him and +cherished him till he died." + +Tabitha looked up. Her hard, worn old face was softened by her tears. +"Those words," she said, "will win her for you; if words can win the +heart already yours." + +At the appointed hour Tabitha led him to Natalie, who was waiting for +him. He could see the swaying of her form as she rose to greet him. He +took her in his arms. + +"My darling, my darling." He could say nothing else. Her arm had crept +upward about his neck; he held her close. + +"Why are you here?" he asked, at length, then added: "Bless God that you +are here." + +"To say good-bye to a place that has often been in my thoughts. And, +since heaven has permitted it, to say good-bye to you." + +"That you shall never say. I vow before God never to leave you. You and +I shall live our lives together, whatever your answer to the petition I +now make. Will you be my wife?" + +"Mark, I am not----" + +"Stop!" he said. "You once declared that as you loved me, so you honored +me. I now, with all solemnity, declare that you are honored as you are +loved by me. If I do not estimate the fault which you have expiated as +you do, I respect and admire the expiation. If you believe me to be a +truthful man, learn now that I approve your care of him who was your +husband. Let that suffice. And now, once more I swear that I will never +leave you. Will you be my wife?" + +"Mark, I love you." + +"Then the wedding bells shall ring, and Forellenbach shall rejoice." +Their lips met, and in the kiss they forgot the years that had passed +since last they saw Forellenbach. + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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